Now, the world can be an unfair place at times

DCBB 15 MASTERPOST - "You're Not in Kansas Anymore, Dean Winchester."

bunnymaccool — Thu, 26 Nov 2015 04:27:24 GMT

Title: You're Not in Kansas Anymore, Dean Winchester
Author: bunnymaccool
Artist: Anjika-Flan
Art link: Art Masterpost
Fandom/Genre: Supernatural - drama/humor/romance
Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel, Sam/Gabriel (side pairing)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 21,860
Warnings: Mild Violence, Harsh vocabulary, Blood, Discussion of suicide (minor), Barely-there discussion of miscarriage, Brief dealing with teenage pregnancy, Bottom Dean, Established Relationship

Authors Notes: This story is the fifth and FINAL in a series that started with my very first DCBB in 2011 ... you can begin this tale here ------> Are You There, Dean Winchester? It's Me ... God.

BIG thank you to my Beta columbinepurples!! Also to my DCBB artist Anjika-Flan, who did an amazing job!! Lastly of course, thank you to the fabulous Mods at deancasbigbang for putting this party on. You ROCK!! <3

Summary: (Canon up to Season 6 - alternate timeline to date.) Chuck has handed over the mantel of God to Dean Winchester. He has the power, the angels, he's not quite ready for the throne yet, thanks... and he's got Cas. He isn't doing too bad at the job, but it's getting a little overwhelming. He's having memories of people that he doesn't remember ever meeting. He's beginning to lose himself to the power that he wields. He might even be accidentally causing his loved ones to drift away from him. It sucks.

Castiel thinks that he's losing Dean. He starts to doubt his place at his side. So perhaps he does something very foolish... but certainly he can trust the Scribe ... the Word of God?

~*~Posted at AO3 HERE!~*~

DCBB 14 MASTERPOST - "What's in the Box, Dean Winchester? What's in the Box!?"

bunnymaccool — Thu, 27 Nov 2014 14:25:07 GMT

Title: Box, Dean Winchester? What's in the Box?
Author: bunnymaccool
Artist: whit_merule
Art link: Art Masterpost
Fandom/Genre: Supernatural - drama/humor/romance
Pairing(s): Dean/Castiel, Sam/Gabriel (side pairing)
Rating: R
Word Count: 25,200
Warnings: fighting, Mild Violence, Harsh vocabulary, Discussions of Religions, Switching POV's, Large cast of characters.

Authors Notes: This story is the fourth in a series from the previous three year's DCBB's ... that you can find here ------> Are You There, Dean Winchester? It's Me ... God. and here Dean Winchester's Home for Wayward Angels and here Death Comes for Mr. Winchester. (Or just, perhaps, for a really excellent slice of pie.) You can probably still read this years without the previous years... I think.

BIG thank you to my ALWAYS AMAZING Beta mainegirlwrites!! Also to my DCBB artist whit_merule, who was fabulously fun to work with! Lastly of course, thank you to the fabulous Mods at deancasbigbang for putting this party on. You ROCK!! <3

Summary: (Canon up to Season 6 - alternate timeline to date.) There are some things Dean Winchester knows for sure about his current life. He loves his angel and his brother and his family of choice. (Even though Balthazar's a snooty little douche-nugget. The Grim Reaper is a flighty friend, at best. And Gabriel is about to drive everyone up the wall with his obsession for getting into Sam's pants.)

There are some things Dean Winchester knows for sure about his future. He will always have Cas and his brother at his side, even in the afterlife. He'll one day have the world of humanity and a whole host of angel dickbags under his charge. And he's apparently destined for Celestial Greatness. (Trademark. Copyright. Yay. Thanks for that, Chuck. Please note the deadpan sarcastic delivery.)

And then... there are some things that Dean Winchester doesn't have a flippin' clue about. Why is Crowley suddenly so willing to be buddy-buddy with him? How many wings can one man realistically have? Where the hell is Adam? Who the frick is Abaddon? And what's in the GODDAMN BOX!?! ........ maybe he should have left that last one alone.

~*~Posted at AO3 HERE!~*~

MPREG XMAS XCHANGE - "Brussel Sprouts Don't Grow in Trees.... Do They?"

bunnymaccool — Thu, 26 Dec 2013 02:02:10 GMT

Title: "Brussel Sprouts Don't Grow in Trees.... Do They?"
Pairing: J2
Rating: R
Warnings: discussion of past instance of NON-CON, character refers to another character as "hot wheelchair guy"... but only in his head. I don't feel that this is disrespectful, personally, but a word of warning just in case.

Notes: Written for the mpreg_xmas_xchg 2013 ... for 2people2 (Hi!! :) I couldn't decide which of your prompts I wanted to work with, so I figured... what if I took as MANY different things from the prompts as I could and SMASHED THEM ALL TOGETHER!! XD Anywho... I hope you like! Happy Holidays!!)

Summary: His car won't start. He's heavily pregnant. And it's raining. All in all, he's having a pretty crap day. Then his foot gets rolled over by the most gorgeous man on the block, and surprisingly ... that makes it all better.

The engine gave one last sputtering attempt to catch before it died a slow, wheezing death. The young man behind the wheel cursed, quite creatively, before smacking the dash and eyeing the heavy downpour of rain outside the car. He slipped a hand down to sweep across the swell of his belly.

“Well, Sprout… looks like we don’t have a choice.”

With a heavy sigh he maneuvered himself out of the car and back into the thunderstorm that had been raging all day. He trudged slowly and carefully to the back door of the bar where he had exited moments before, but unfortunately the handle didn’t give when he tried to open it.

“Dammit… Sam didn’t leave already did she?”

He pounded a few times and hollered as loudly as he could, but most of the noise was drowned out by the storm, and if she’d already gone upstairs there wasn’t a hope in hell she would hear him.

“Fuck!”

With a soft kick to the door, he turned back towards the car and eyed the old clunker. It was raining too heavily to even attempt to pop the hood and get her going, so he just sighed and turned to walk up the alley towards the main street. He pocketed the keys but didn’t bother going back to lock the door. Let someone try and steal the piece of shit. It would probably be a benefit for him in the end. Maybe he could get a little insurance money.

He rubbed his swollen belly and groaned at the pinch in his lower back. Being seven months pregnant sucked. He really kind of hated it. The swollen ankles and aches and pains … the bladder a size of a pea. Having been born a carrier he had known all of this was a possibility, of course, but that asshole walking into the bar one night with a faulty condom sort of sealed the deal. If he ever saw that son of a bitch again…

“Not that any of this is your fault, Sprout. Course not. Just mine for being so desperate for a lay.”

After a couple near slips on the various detritus scattered about the alley, he breathed a soft sigh of relief when he turned the corner onto the sidewalk. It was short lived.

“Oh, shit!”

The rain was thick and made it difficult to see, but it didn’t keep him from hearing the mumbled swear right before a wheel rolled over his left foot. He yelped in shock more than pain and was already twisting sideways when he realized he was falling. There was barely a moment to fret about the safety of his heavy belly before strong arms were suddenly around him and diverting his plummet to the ground. Instead he landed on his rump in a very firm lap, legs hooked over the armrest of a high quality, manual wheelchair.

For several seconds there was only the sound of the rain around them, before he turned to face the stranger he was currently sprawled across. Long, dark hair slicked back from the water, gorgeous eyes, sweet dimples, shoulders the width of a brick shit-house. (Holy fuck … it was hot wheelchair guy.) He could only blink in shock as the other man chuckled at the deer-in-headlights expression that was surely gracing his face.

Hot wheelchair guy worked at the physical rehab office across the street and around the corner from the bar. He had never once spoken to, or even made eye contact with hot wheelchair guy in the year and a half since he first saw him roll by. He did, however, have some very lovely spank bank material based on a single viewing of hot wheelchair guy in a white tank top that one time. That was a good day.

“Are you alright?”

Being ripped out of a fantasy by the object of said fantasy was kind of….weird. He could only nod and quirk his lips into a small grin.

“Yeah, no harm no foul. It’s raining sheets and I’m a stumbling whale at this point, anyway.”

Hot wheelchair guy laughed before he leaned sideways to run his fingers across the toes of the sneaker he had rolled over.

“Nothing broken? Any residual pain?”

A knot the size of a tennis ball wedged in his throat as he watched hot wheelchair guy’s absolutely monstrous hand roam over his shoe before it came up to settle on his shin. He stuttered through his response, pretty sure he sounded like a fool.

“Nah… it’s… I’m fine.”

Another sparkling smile and fuck….he was so gone on this dude. A year plus of ogling from the shadows really did the man no justice.

“Well, Fine… what in the hell are you doing out here in the rain?”

He snorted in response before waving a flippant hand in the direction of his car.

“P.O.S. car won’t start. Was about to-WHOA!”

The wheelchair had started moving before he could even finish indicating the vehicle in the back of the alley. On instinct his arms shot around hot wheelchair guy’s neck and a startled squeak passed his lips. The man beneath him chuckled warmly as he sped up to shoot across the mouth of the alley and up the ramp of the sidewalk on the other side.

“What… where are you going?”

He didn’t receive an answer, but it became clear enough when they swung to the right and under the awning for the 24-hour diner that was never empty and always inviting. Before hot wheelchair guy could even reach for the door it was swinging open and fabulous Marie, his favorite server, was gasping in shock at the sight of them.

“Jensen! What on earth are you doing out in this weather, boy!? You can’t be catching sick with that baby so close to coming! Are you mad? This better not be your fault, Jared. I know you think you’re indestructible, but Jen needs to be watching out for himself right now. I want to get a chance to meet that little bundle.”

By the time her tirade had ended, Jensen realized that they were deep in the diner already being toweled off vigorously by Marie and Frank, the line cook. He also officially knew hot wheelchair guy’s name. Jared. It suited him. (Well, to be fair, just about anything would suit him. Jesus.)

Marie suddenly paused with both hands scrubbing Jensen’s hair dry with a clean dishtowel.

“Come to think it… I’ve never seen you boys here together before.”

Hot wheelch-… Jared grinned and good-naturedly swung his long hair around to spray them all with the cast off. Frank smacked him with a towel, but they were both smiling.

“Nah… never met Jensen, here, before. Almost ran over him outside. Said his car won’t start.”

Frank grunted and turned away to head back the kitchen.

“Told you to get rid of that pile a junk ages ago, Jen. It won’t be safe for the babe anyway.”

Jensen sighed and rolled his shoulders. This would be the… what… fifteenth? Sixteenth time they had this conversation? He scooted to the left, suddenly conscious that he was still seated in Jared’s lap, and rolled awkwardly to his feet.

“Well, Frank, as soon as you want to loan me a couple grand to-”
“-get a new one. Yadda yadda yadda. You say that every time when you know perfectly well you wouldn’t accept it even if I did.”

The gruff mountain of a man disappeared behind a swinging door and Marie tutted at Jensen as she gathered the wet towels.

“If you asked sincerely, darlin’, he’d give it to you in a heartbeat.”

Jensen shook his head and let his gaze slip to the floor. Charity and handouts he just couldn’t do. He got himself into this situation, he was going to deal with the consequences. Even as a kid he had never been comfortable owing something to another person. Several of the businesses on the block were already planning a baby shower that he wasn’t really thrilled about. Not that they’d listen to him. With his boss Samantha leading the charge it was no use.

(He was pretty sure that she’d already rounded up a mob with pitchforks and torches to go after the asshole sperm donor before the man had suddenly skipped town.)

Marie sighed and shoed him over to the … huh… handicap booth at the end of the row. He squeezed himself gingerly into the seat while Jared rolled up to the empty side of the table and flipped the lock on his wheels. There was a large grin on his face that had Jensen flushing with embarrassment, having it directed towards him.

“Sooooo… Marie and Frank know you pretty well, huh?”

Jensen shrugged and reached over to grab a sugar packet to fiddle with. Jared dropped his elbows onto the table and plopped his chin into his hands like an over-eager kid.

“And yet I’ve never seen you around. You must work close by, though… unless you just like parking your car in dark alleys.”

Jensen snorted and nodded his head toward the direction of the bar.

“I bartend at The Roadhouse.”

To his credit, Jared barely even reacted to the statement, and his eyes only flicked down to Jensen’s swollen belly for a split second.

“That’s cool, man. I work at Morgan rehab around the corner. So why have I never seen you before?”

He could feel his face fighting a blush and only shrugged in response. Across the table, Jared’s gaze tracked Jensen’s left hand for a couple moments… and a flock of butterflies sprang to life in his gut. (Was Jared actually checking for a ring? No. Couldn’t be. No man in his right mind would be looking to hook up with a seventh month pregnant beached whale. Right?) Jensen pulled his hands quickly under the table. Jared bent forward across the way and fought to catch Jensen’s eye.

“So when are you due? Can I ask that without being too nosey?”

Two cups of steaming hot chocolate were suddenly plopped down on the table between them and Marie chuckled warmly.

“December 25th! Jen’s aiming to give us all a Christmas present, aren’t you, sugar?”

Jensen shrugged as he slowly pulled the cocoa towards him. Jared did the same to his own mug, pursing his lips to blow gently across the surface of the liquid. The flush crept right back up Jensen’s cheeks as he watched the man across from him take a cautious sip. Marie gave a sudden, soft little gasp and he whipped his gaze back to her. The older woman was looking between them with a curious, appraising look. Soft smile gracing her face.

(Oh, God.)

Marie reached out to tug gently on Jared’s hair and gave Jensen a small smirk.

(Please, God… save him from meddling females. As if his boss wasn’t enough. )

“So Jared, if you’ve never met Jen before… you must not be invited to the baby shower yet! I’ll ask Sam to send one over to Morgan’s. I’m sure Jeff would like to come as well. Small town, we gotta take care of our own, you know? Poor Jen’s doing this all by himself. We’re going to make sure he’s got everything he needs.”

He’d really, really like to tape Marie’s mouth shut about now… except… the way Jared’s eyes lit up a little bit when she insinuated that Jensen was single. That was … nice.

“I’ll have Frank make you up some nice grilled cheese and tomato soup. You boys get warmed up.”

She patted Jared on the head once before sauntering way. Jensen figured, to hell with it, and started speaking.

“So okay. I’m not sure how you haven’t heard the story yet, but you will eventually so I might as well tell you myself. About seven months ago this real douche-bag come into the bar. But, you know, he was a nice-looking douche-bag and I was lonely… so.”

He shrugged and lifted his face to meet Jared’s eyes. There was absolutely no judgment there, and some of the tension bled out from Jensen’s shoulders.

“Anyway, after my shift I went to his hotel with him. One thing led to another… and then the condom tore. I asked him to stop, told him I was a carrier… then he just. Changed. Personality-wise, I mean. Kept right on going, but started calling me a slut and a whore. Freak of nature. That sort of shit. Smacked me around a couple times until I was too dazed to fight him off. After … he went to the bathroom to clean up, and I took off.”

He was so lost in the memory of it that it took him several seconds to realize that Jared had reached over to softly take his hands, and that Marie’s long fingers were carding through his damp hair. Soup and sandwiches were on the table, but his throat was too clogged with emotion to consider eating. Marie sniffed once before speaking up.

“Sam was ready to kill him, soon as she saw you. Me and Frank already had the perfect place to hide the body.”

Jensen chuckled wetly and bent forward to drop his gaze, but Marie reached down to softly grasp his chin and pull his face back up.

“Nothing to be ashamed of, sweetheart. You did absolutely nothing wrong.”

Jared nodded his head in agreement and Jensen pursed his lips, fighting a shy smile. His attention caught and held on Jared’s fingers clutching his hands gently, thumbs sweeping across his knuckles in a soothing gesture. Jensen cleared his throat and nodded.

“I know. And now I’ve got Sprout, so … it’ll be fine.”

Jared chuckled.

“Sprout?”

Marie snorted and pulled back from the table, waving her hands toward their cooling soup and sandwiches.

“Sprout is what Jen’s been calling the babe. Didn’t want to know the sex. Doesn’t want to pick a name ahead of time.”

She clucked in disapproval before sauntering back towards the kitchen and Jensen shrugged his shoulders, but made sure he didn’t bring attention to his hands. He wasn’t ready for Jared to release them yet, and the other man seemed to have forgotten he’d captured them. Jensen licked his lips to wet them a little.

“I want to be surprised.”

He grinned.

“Sprout was already a surprise enough to begin with. Figured I let them get me again with the gender. And I don’t want to name him or her before I look into their eyes, you know? It’s a hell of a lot to saddle a kid with. I want to make sure it fits.”

If Jared smiled any wider his dimples would probably find a way to connect. Jensen blushed at the attention.

“I think that’s awesome, Jensen. And I think you’re amazingly strong for going through what you did, and to have kept the attitude you have. It’s impressive.”

Jensen scrunched his face up in a little grimace. Before he could speak, though, Jared continued.

“Trust me, man. I know a lot about wanting to give up after life gives you a trial. For a while, I really wanted to. I was in every sport you can imagine. Basketball. Football. Track. Then my Senior year my best buddy was drinking, picked me up in his car to go to a party… and that’s the last thing I remember before the hospital. I haven’t walked since. Lost my buddy to the crash. Lost my scholarships and girlfriend to the recovery. Lost my will to live for a long time after.”

Jensen pulled his bottom lip into his mouth to chew on it nervously as he tightened the grip he had on Jared’s fingers.

“So, what changed?”

Jared smiled and rolled a shoulder casually.

“Dunno, really. One day I just woke up and decided that I had spent enough time feeling sorry for myself and it was time to do something about it. I’d had an awesome relationship with my physical therapist, and I decided to just … go that direction. Help out the people going through the same thing I did. Make a difference. And honestly, I’ve never been happier. I mean, don’t get me wrong… I miss being able to walk and run, but I think this was the path I was meant to go down. I think I’m a better person this way.”

Jensen finally pulled his hands out of Jared’s and brought them to his swollen belly. He rubbed small circles into the stretched skin self-consciously.

“That’s… that’s awesome, Jared. It really is… but I don’t think it’s the same thing for me. I just… did something stupid and now I’m living with the consequences. You had your life almost ripped away, and you fought to get it back. I was reckless, got drunk and had anonymous sex with a stranger. It isn’t … it’s just not the same.”

Two massive hands were suddenly cradling the sides of his belly, long arms stretched behind them across the table. Jensen blinked in shock at the sudden change. Stilled in his seat as he steadily met and held Jared’s gaze.

“It is the same, Jensen. You could have let this change you, could have let this convince you that your life was over. Sunk into depression or self-hatred. You didn’t, did you?”

Jensen shook his head, just slightly, and Jared grinned.

“I could tell. You’re strong. And you’re going to be just fine. And Sprout is gonna be a great kid. And maybe one day he or she is going to discover the cure for cancer, or end world hunger, or write the most beautiful song the world has ever heard. Or maybe just become a paramedic and save the life of another person who will do those things. Then you’ll know that this was the path that you were meant to tread. To have this potential little rock star and raise them to be the best person they can be. So they can follow your footsteps and pay it forward. It’s beautiful. Don’t you think?”

There were tears burning in his eyes when Jensen sniffled and turned to look out the window. A smile was fighting to bloom on his lips and he actually felt lighter than he had in ages. In the reflection of the glass he realized he could make out Marie and Frank watching them from the kitchen, broad smiles across their faces. In his belly, Sprout suddenly moved and ran an elbow or a knee right across the skin under Jared’s hands. The other man sucked in a quick breath before he expelled it in a warm laugh.

“Oh man… that’s wicked.”

Jensen chuckled at the look of awe on Jared’s face.

“I think Sprout likes your voice.”

Jared lifted his gaze back to Jensen’s and winked.

“I think I like Sprout’s everything. Especially his Dad.”

Jensen snorted in response, but it was with humor not derision.

“You don’t even know Sprout’s Dad.”

He could feel the flush start up again in his neck, heading quickly towards his cheeks, as Jared’s eyes sparkled with amusement and he drew his hands away to sit back in his wheelchair.

“Maybe not … but I’d like to.”

Marie and Frank high-fived somewhere in the back, sharp sound of it echoing in the diner, and Jensen just smiled before he turned back to watch the rain drenching the world outside the window.

THE END!
MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

DCBB - Death Comes for Mr. Winchester - CHAPTER 4

bunnymaccool — Sun, 13 Oct 2013 04:47:49 GMT

CHAPTER FOUR

The complete lack of noise is what woke him this time. When Dean managed to wrench his tired eyes open, it was to be greeted once again by an unnaturally dark room. He flicked his gaze to the alarm clock and it was just a shadowed square shape on the table.

“Fuck.”

He pulled himself up slowly and cautiously. With a quick glance back over his shoulder he confirmed that if Castiel was in the room, he couldn’t see him. Dean flicked on a pair of jeans and a soft black t-shirt before stepping quietly towards the door to the bedroom.

“Cas. If you can hear me… it’s happening again.”

Dean concentrated as hard as he could to try and detect some sort of response from the angel, but there was nothing. No sound. No movement. No touch. He had to have faith that Cas was there beside him.

“Wake the others, if you can hear me, get everyone up and mobilized.”

Stepping as quietly and stealthily as possible, Dean made his way out into the hallway just like last time. However today he didn’t waste time stopping, just move immediately to the spiral staircase and took a deep breath before he began his decent. Same as the previous time, the cabin was washed out in deep shadows and deafening silence. Dean growled under his breath and rolled his shoulders a couple times to loosen up. He jerked his hand out palm up and began to form his tiny sun, the instant feeling of déjà-vu doing nothing but pissing him off at the unoriginality of it all. He tossed the little ball of light up into the air above his head so that he was free to keep his hands clear.

The ex-hunter shifted from foot to foot for a couple moments, hoping he had given Cas enough time to gather everyone together. Not that he could really tell if they were there at all, he was just hoping like hell that they were.

“Okay. Okay. Right. Why put it off for any longer, huh?”

He took a deep breath and opened the door slowly to step out onto the porch. There were shuffles of sound all around the yard and he could make out the zombie-like movements of the reapers inching closer and closer to the cabin. Dean sighed and wiggled his fingers nervously. He needed a weapon if the reapers attacked, but he didn’t want to damage them too much, his new corndog buddy might not appreciate that. Finally he conjured up a heavy metal baseball bat into his hand and gripped the handle tight enough to hear the leather strain. He took that final step off the porch so that his feet hit the hard packed dirt of the yard and his toes dug into the earth.

“Come on, guys. Your big scary daddy misses you and wants you to come home. Promptly, please.”

The reapers all took another step forward and Dean sighed.

“Well, I tried.”

“Indeed you did, sweat pea.”

Dean could feel his lips pull up in a snarl at the voice coming from the shadows in front of him. Crowley, decked out in his typical solid black suit, stepped into the circle of light created by Dean’s miniature sun. The demon was twirling the angel blade in his hand like a baton and looking smugger than was even usual for him. Dean grunted.

“What’s the haps, demon-douche? Are we really doing this again? You’ve never seemed the type to repeat yourself.”

Crowley grinned wide and wolfish and he shrugged a shoulder and twirled the blade.

“True enough. But see … it’s more interesting this time… because you can see me, and they can see me, and they can see you, but you can’t see them. It’s all a bit like a game of Marco Polo, but with slightly more bloodshed and mayhem, don’t you think?”

Dean made sure to appear as nonchalant as possible when he shrugged indifferently.

“Never was big on it. So what’s with the sudden attention, little man? You’d left us alone, we’d left you alone… I figured we had all gotten back to minding our own business. Then you had to kidnap the reapers from the horseman of Death. Which takes some serious balls, might I add. To what? Sit here and have a tea party? Why are you bothering with us?”

The demon clucked his tongue and turned to saunter around Dean in a slow circle.

“Well, to be quite honest with you, it was getting a little boring down below. All that screaming and maiming and torturing. Nothing but work, work, work for days on end. So when a very reliable source informed me that dear old Daddy was tied up indefinitely with a somewhat delicate situation and that the Heavenly Host was being left unsupervised… I figured, why not? Let’s stir up a little fun.”

“So you stole the scythe from the Grim Reaper? That’s a little bit of fun to you?”

Crowley cackled gleefully.

“Of course it is! I knew I had to do something a little over the top to impress my dear Moose and Squirrel! Especially now that our precious little Squirrel has leveled up and gained himself his very own Huey, Dewy and Louie angel squad. No mediocre little scheme for my boys, no, no, no. I hope you approve.”

Dean snorted and twirled the bat in his hand a couple times purely for dramatic effect.

“Not really. So where did you appropriate the angel blade from?”

The demon sighed and twisted his lips into a mocking pout.

“Sad little creature, really. His vessel was a squeaky voiced teenager working at some sort of wiener hut atrocity. I did him a favor really, I think.”

Something deep inside of Dean’s chest screamed and howled in agony. Crowley was mocking the murder of an angel. An angel that would have someday been under Dean’s protection. Dean’s fold. His flock. He growled deep in his throat and with a burst of light and power, his two sets of wings flared to life from his shoulder blades and spread out wide and threatening. Crowley practically howled with glee.

“So I wasn’t imagining it last time! Look at you, Squirrel! A budding little wee godling near bursting at the seams to take up the job, eh?”

Dean snarled and took a step towards the demon.

“Ah, ah, ah … let’s not be hasty, darling. I have you outnumbered and outgunned, remember?”

He wiggled the angel blade in Dean’s direction, but the ex-hunter didn’t even spare it a glance. He took another step forward.

“Stop being a chicken shit and let me see my friends, Crowley.”

The demon tapped the tip of the blade softly against his own chin and glance up into the sky as if deep in thought.

“How about … no?”

When the last word was uttered, the twenty or so reapers closest to them suddenly sprang to life and charged at Dean. He cursed under his breath and spun away reflexively. By pure accident alone, one of his white wings smashed into a reaper and it went flying off in the other direction. As the reapers would close in he would strike at them with either a wing or his handy dandy baseball bat and they would be pushed back. He flapped all four wings as hard as he could manage, spilling power into the force of them, and a great gust of wind sent a dozen reapers tumbling away into the dirt. Dean whooped. Wings. Officially best thing ever.

Crowley was frowning at the display and gripped tightly to the blade in his hand. A reaper snuck up on Dean’s side and was just about to grab hold of an arm, when it was suddenly pushed away with force. Dean strongly suspected Castiel. Somehow his angels were able to see the reapers once again. A quick glance around the yard revealed handfuls of them fighting against invisible foes. He could almost sense Crowley’s displeasure at the turn of the tide. Dean spun on his heel and hollered into the visibly odd battle.

“All mine! Hit the dirt!”

He dropped the bat and immediately reached both hands high into the air. He gripped his fingers into tight fists and pulled down with as much force as he could muster. Lightening cracked across the sky and lit up the yard. Tendrils of it struck the earth around him, bouncing off cars and punching into as many reapers as he could manage to hit, sending them rocketing away, slightly charred. Dean laughed and turned just in time to catch Crowley lunging at him with the angel blade.

Every instinct inside of Dean knew, just knew, that Cas was stepping between them to take the hit himself. So Dean used a powerful swipe of one great, white wing and could feel it connect with something warm and tangible just as he felt the slick metal of the blade pierce straight into his gut. He grunted at the impact and looked down to take in the blade up to the hilt fully entrenched in his belly. Dean took one staggered step back before raising his eyes to meet Crowley’s gaze.

The demon was smirking like the cat that caught the canary. He lifted his free hand to snap his fingers delicately and suddenly the oppressive fake darkness looming over the salvage yard dissipated and the previous silence was filled with the screams of Dean’s name. He glanced to the left and found Castiel sprawled across the ground, still in the heap he must have been in when Dean’s wing knocked him there. The angel’s eyes were wide and rapidly spilling over with tears, his full bottom lip was quivering but it seemed that his voice had temporarily left him.

Dean flicked a quick glance towards the rest of the yard for the rest of his family. Sam was being held against the skeleton of a car by a massive reaper, screaming his lungs out and trying to reach Dean. Bobby was tucked in the crevice between two wrecks protecting Jodi. The older man’s face was void of color and his shocked gaze was locked onto the blade in Dean’s stomach. Jodi had her hand in front of her mouth and tears were already streaming down her dusty cheeks. Her hair was a mess. Dean wanted to grin at her, but he couldn’t force his lips to move.

Balthazar had dropped to his knees in the middle of the battle, mouth hung open in shock and his face frozen in a sort of aghast form of horror. (It was nice to know he cared, really.) Gabriel was ripping the reaper away from Sam, but forcing the younger Winchester to stay with him, eyeing Crowley with a wise level of mistrust. Dean’s observations of the group only took mere seconds, but it was long enough for everyone in the clearing to realize that something was off. That Dean wasn’t reacting in the way one should when a sharp metal instrument was currently plunged into their flesh. (Also the lack of bing bang boom, cue flashy light show and dramatic imprint of wings that usually followed one of these sort of deaths.)

He slowly turned back to face Crowley, who had tilted his head slightly to the side and was eyeing the blade in his hand with a curious sort of novelty. Dean smirked.

“Sorry, Hot-n-Bothered … ‘fraid that’s not going to work out so well for you.”

Castiel huffed a stunned breath of relief and Crowley’s grin kicked up a notch.

“Not to worry, my lovely … I always bring a backup plan.”

The King of Hell’s previously empty hand flicked at his side and Dean only had a second to catch sight of Death’s scythe before the wicked looking hook was plunging into his back, gouging into his spinal column. Dean squeaked in surprise when the white hot pain hit him. He could hear Sammy and Cas screaming but he was concentrating too hard on the scythe sunken deep into his flesh. Crowley was smirking at him and despite the pain and horror of the possibility that this might be a really, really bad thing, Dean could only think about the blade and Death’s need to have it returned to him.

He ground his teeth harshly together, ignored the agony, ignored the battle erupting to life once again around him and reached back to grasp the handle of the scythe. With a swift turn he dislodged the demon’s hand from the weapon and simultaneously the angel blade slid out from his belly with a wet, squelching sound. Crowley was still grinning like a madman when Dean staggered back a couple paces. His wings flickered and disappeared with the sudden drop of power.

“Oh dear, you don’t look so good little godling. Perhaps you weren’t expecting my surprise?”

Dean snarled and yanked the scythe from his back in a swift painful motion. Instantly his legs went out from underneath him and he crashed to his knees on the hard packed dirt. Crowley was still smiling maniacally and opened his mouth to probably spew some more taunting bullshit, when Cas slammed into him and they went rolling on the ground. The demon’s hold on the angel blade loosened and Dean reached out with his power to knock the stolen weapon right out of the King of Hell’s hand. It skittered across the earth until it knocked against Sam’s boot and the younger Winchester stooped to snap it up even as he was running towards Dean.

Castiel was howling with anger as he pummeled Crowley’s face with his fists, but Dean was sinking slowly backwards and couldn’t follow the fight as well as he would like. Two warm hands were suddenly gripping his shoulders and he raised his eyes to meet Gabriel’s concerned ones. The archangel had such a serious look on his face that Dean almost didn’t recognize him.

“You have the scythe. The reapers have stopped listening to Crowley. Call Death. Call Death right now!”

Warm blood was trickling down his back and there was a dull roar in his ears. He tried to sit up a little straighter, but a whimper of pain burst from him before he could bite it back. Sam was suddenly behind him, crowded in close and allowing Dean to use his massive bulk to lean against. Dean smiled at his little brother and attempted to wiggle his eyebrows playfully, but Sam was too busy sniffling and snotting to pay attention. (Sammy was not an attractive crier.)

“Call Death, Dean! Now!”

The elder Winchester tried to shrug, but just sunk further into his brother’s chest. Sam’s massive hands were pressing against the wound on Dean’s back, but the pain was kind of numbing out. This was probably not a good thing, but oh well.

“Don’t know how, Sammy.”

Gabriel snorted an unpleasant noise, but he had dropped to his knees in front of Dean and was holding the human’s face with gentle hands, so Dean figured he was just concerned. Aw, Gabe likes me. He really, really likes me. Dean flicked his gaze over to the sounds of the ongoing scuffle and realized Balthazar was assisting Cas in trying to give Crowley the beat down of his annoying life. The demon was snarling and spitting and fighting dirty… but he was also alone against two angels and losing. Teach the bastard to not be so overconfident with the big guns he brings to battle. Sometimes the small little backup plan is what saves the fucking day.

Oops, Gabriel was still talking.

“He had to give you some way of calling him! That bastard is always planning ten steps ahead. Think, Dean!”

OH.

“Th-the ring.”

He pulled up his hand weakly, scythe still held tight in his fingers and eyed the ring Death had given him. He wasn’t really sure how he knew what to do, but when he tapped the metal band against the weapon twice a deep hush of noise fell over the scrap yard. The ominous darkness began creeping back over them like a dense of fog. Balthazar made a frustrated noise and when Dean turned his attention back to the angels, he found that Crowley was gone and Cas surging to his feet to rush over.

“Dean!”

Cas skid to a stop on his knees and brought one hand up to cup Dean’s face gingerly. The other hand slid around the human’s waist to help Sam put pressure on the gaping wound of Dean’s back. Tears were tracking through the dust on the angel’s cheeks, but before Cas could say any more a deafening clap of thunder startled them all. Bobby swore from a couple feet away and Dean turned to watch in stunned silence as hundreds upon hundreds of reapers began to flicker into life all around them.

“Dean!”

Oh, now … that’s a familiar voice he hasn’t heard in a long while. Sure enough, Tessa was pushing her way through the swarm of reapers towards them. Dean grinned, but it was weak. He was beginning to feel really fucking tired and sleepy and he was pretty sure he couldn’t feel his legs any more. Damn.

“Hey, Tess. Fancy meeting you here.”

The reaper shook her head sadly at him before crouching down next to Gabriel and laying a gentle hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Oh, Dean. Look what you’ve done to yourself.”

The elder Winchester just snorted in response and gave an appropriate ‘eh, whatcha gonnna do’ motion with his shoulders and face. She smiled softly at him in return before craning her neck to peer behind her. Sure enough, the reapers were parting like the fucking red sea… and Death himself was slowly meandering towards them tapping his cane along the ground as he moved.

“Well now. This has certainly been an eventful evening, hasn’t it?”

Dean tried to respond, but his final reserve of energy failed him and his head lolled back onto Sam’s tense shoulder. His eyes slipped closed and he fought to open them, but exhaustion had settled over him, heavy as a leaden cape. Death made a ‘tsking’ sound as he shuffled closer.

“Come now. It isn’t the time for a catnap.”

Sammy’s chest rumbled beneath Dean as he finally spoke up.

“Sir, he … Crowley stabbed him in the back with the scythe. He’s… he’s dying.”

The younger Winchester’s voice cracked over the last couple words and Dean would’ve loved to give him a reassuring pat of bro-love, but the world was starting to sort of slip away around him and Cas was repeatedly patting his cheek and begging him to open his eyes.

“Let’s not be so dramatic, shall we?”

The horseman really was kind of an asshole, but Dean sorta of liked him anyway.

Sam sucked in a sharp breath at the same time Dean felt a cold hand slowly remove the scythe from his grasp.

“I am very grateful to you, Dean, for retrieving this for me. I apologize for the unwitting assistance my children provided to that bumbling buffoon’s meddling with your family.”

Those icy fingers were back meddling with Dean’s hand, and he was just about to drift off into the dark nothingness when they clutched at the ring on his finger and a burst of power spread sharply and quickly through his nerves. Dean’s eyes flew open in shock and he gasped as he felt the wounds in his back and belly carefully knit themselves closed.

“I gave my word to you that you would not die during this frivolous escapade, and I do always keep my word, Dean. Death does not give false assurances.”

A hush had fallen over the yard and Dean closed his eyes tightly once more to pull energy from the world around him. He sucked it straight into his body from the ground, the air, the people he loved standing so close beside him. After a moment he felt so light that his body began to lift up without any instruction or assistance on his part. He felt his wings reappear and arch straight up into the sky as he took a deep, calming breath. Dean felt good. He felt great. Amazing even. Powerful enough to raze a mountain range into dust and dance in the ensuing cloud of debris.

“There now. Are we feeling better?”

When the elder Winchester opened his eyes once more to the world, the horseman of Death was standing before him with a somewhat smug tilt of a smile on his lips. Dean returned it with a smirk of his own before he flicked his wrist and conjured a corndog from the fair into his palm. He offered it to the reaper.

“Repayment for the favor.”

Death grinned with delight before snapping the fried treat straight out of Dean’s fingers and promptly beginning to nibble. Dean could only smile as he turned to take in the state of the yard surrounding them. The reapers were slowly beginning to disappear, one by one, without so much as a howdy-do, but Dean supposed there was a backlog of death that had been put on hold for the crisis of the week. Tessa was still standing sentinel beside the horseman with a self-satisfied smirk on her face.

“So I’m assuming you’ve re-established your control and are ushering your little soldiers back to where they belong?”

Death tipped his head in response to Dean’s words as he finished up the breaded meat on a stick and flicked the remaining trash into nothingness.

“Indeed. We shall be making plans to keep this from happening again.”

“Do you know what’s going on with God? I haven’t been able to contact him, and Crowley was making allusions to there being something big on the horizon. Some sort of delicate issue that was taking up Chuck’s full concentration.”

The horseman made a thoughtful noise before turning his gaze to the sky.

“I have not heard anything, but I shall let you know if I do. Until then, we must be going. There is much that must be set right now that the little rat has been sent back to pout in his hidey-hole.”

With a tap of his cane, Death and Tessa vanished in a flurry of motion and the oppressive shadows faded from the salvage yard, leaving a bright moonlit sky to wash out everything in muted blues and grays. Dean glanced around for his little sun, but apparently it had been snuffed out like he almost had been. When he swiveled around to the group of people waiting for him, he only had a second to gasp before Castiel was kissing him delicately on the lips. When the angel pulled back his eyes were clear of worry for the first time in days and his mouth had a soft tilt of a smile daring to break through.

“I would greatly appreciate having a boring week every now and then, Dean.”

Dean cackled as he wrapped his arms tightly around Castiel’s neck and hugged him close.

“Nah, babe, come on … where’s the fun in that?”

The angel only snorted and stepped out of Dean’s arms as Sam came up to hug his elder brother as well.

“You feeling okay?”

Dean nodded.

“Peachy. All boo-boos officially gone and the residual pain barely warrants a flinch.”

Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“We still have no idea what’s going on with Chuck, though, and I don’t like it.”

Gabriel stepped forward and snagged one of Sam’s belt loops with his finger.

“Don’t worry, sugarcakes … we’ll figure it out soon enough, and we’ll deal with it like we always do. Like the badasses we are.”

Sam groaned and turned to start walking back towards the cabin, Gabriel dutifully following close on his heels.

“Don’t call me sugarcakes.”

“No problem, honeybear.”

“Not that either.”

“You betcha, prime rib.”

“Gabriel.”

“Yes, my sparkly moose of affection and sexy times?”

“Oh my God! Stop!”

The two finally made it up the porch and into the house, thankfully taking their conversation with them. Bobby grunted in relief before reaching over to hug Dean tightly and pat him a couple times on the back. Dean’s wings trembled with the desire to wrap around the older man and hold him close, but Bobby was already stepping away to gather Jodi to him and stumble tiredly back to their end of the yard. Balthazar had already fucked off to do whatever he needed to do in order to go back to pretending he didn’t give a shit about any of them.

Not to worry… Dean would harass him later. He’d seen the tears threatening to spill over in the snarky bastard’s eyes. There would be no escape for him. (Cue Dean’s maniacal laughter … internally, of course.)

Cas stepped up to him again and Dean smiled. He pulled the angel into a tight embrace and enveloped them both under a canopy of his wings. Cas tucked his face into the curve of Dean’s neck and the tension poured off of his shoulders like a waterfall.

“Sorry if I scared you again, Cas. I guess I do that a lot, huh?”

The angel hummed and kissed at the hinge of Dean’s jaw.

“I have come to accept it as an inevitability. You are very important to the future of the world, Dean, and creatures like Crowley will never ease up on you. It will never be easy for us, and as much as I wish that you could just be the center of my world not the world’s, I cannot be that selfish. You are amazing and beautiful and perfect, and I would not change a thing that has happened to us.”

Dean chewed on his bottom lip for a moment as he ran his hands up and down his angel’s back.

“I love you, Cas, you know. A whole hell of a lot. And I’m sorry that I sometimes do the wrong thing, or say the wrong thing, but I’m still learning all this relationship shit, too. And I’m not perfect. I will never be perfect. I’m always gonna fuck things up and have to beg you to forgive me, but I’ll never give up on us and I’ll never stop believing in you. So just … keeping sticking with me, and I’ll love you for the rest of eternity, okay?”

Castiel grinned against the skin of Dean’s neck.

“I’m pretty sure that won’t be a problem, Dean.”

Dean kissed the angel on the temple before pulling his wings back and storing them away for now.

“Come on, I think I’m going to sleep for about thirty years right now, and then in the morning I’m going to annoy the ever loving shit out of Sam and threaten Gabe with castration. Then we’ll see about finding a way to help Chuck with whatever he needs.”

He took Castiel’s hand and threaded their fingers together as they began to walk towards the cabin. Cas sighed deeply as he wiggled his fingers to rub absently at the ring on Dean’s finger. The one that matched his own.

“I think I like this plan.”

~*~ THE END ~*~

MASTERPOST

DCBB - Death Comes for Mr. Winchester - CHAPTER 3

bunnymaccool — Sun, 13 Oct 2013 04:46:40 GMT

CHAPTER THREE

The early morning sun was just beginning to filter into their room when Dean and Cas finally made it to bed. Cas was methodically taking off and folding his clothes as Dean just flicked his own off with a burst of power before he collapsed on the bed in just his briefs. He snuggled deep into his pillow before he released a heavy sigh of exhaustion.

“So Chuck is just gone? No one knows where he is?”

Castiel made a soft sound of acknowledgement before he climbed into bed and straddled Dean’s waist, lowering himself until he was seated on Dean’s ass. The ex-hunter was just about to inquire on possible sexy times when the angel’s hands began to massage deep into his shoulder blades and neck.

“Oh… fuck.”

Cas huffed but didn’t pause in his movements.

“The wings are new to your body. I could tell that your shoulders were tense and stiff.”

Dean mumbled into the pillow.

“Keep that up and my shoulders won’t be thing only things that end up stiff.”

The angel sighed with resigned affection before digging his fingers deep into a stubborn muscle. A startled grunt punched out of Dean, but was closely followed with a relieved sigh.

“Seriously, Cas… you fell out of the awesome tree and hit every branch on the way down.”

They remained quiet for several minutes, until Dean’s body was officially a pile of goo on the mattress. Cas tilted himself sideways into a graceful fall to land beside Dean. The angel leaned forward to kiss softly along the human’s bare shoulder a couple times before he finally settled himself into his preferred sleeping position. His voice was a hushed whisper in the room.

“Balthazar and Gabriel confirmed it. No one in Heaven has seen our Father in several days. Apparently Joshua was mum on the subject and no one seemed overly concerned. Gabriel said the Heavenly Hosts were well on their way to being perfectly in order once again. Raphael and several others had been properly chastised and were on their best behavior.”

“It doesn’t sit well with you, though, does it?”

Cas shook his head just slightly before he brought his hand up to trace along the shell of Dean’s ear.

“It does not. I searched Earth as well as I could to see if I could find a trace of him, but there was nothing. If he hadn’t mentioned to you that he had something important to deal with … I might have been less concerned. But I just don’t like this.”

Dean nodded and shivered at the sensation of fingertips across his skin.

“What do the wonder twins think?”

The angel smirked, just slightly.

“They agree with me. Especially with the information Death provided to you, this cannot be a coincidence. For Father to disappear just as we discover that Crowley is planning something … epic.”

“Good use of the word, Cas.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

Dean drifted off to sleep with the ghost-light touches of Castiel’s fingertips trailing along his skin. Considering it had been about six in the morning by the time he’d actually fallen asleep, it was quite understandable that he woke up completely disoriented about what time, or even which day it was. The room was dark around him, and Cas was no longer in bed. Dean yawned and stretched before pulling himself up to a seated position in the middle of the mattress. He turned to the bedside table for help with the time, but the alarm clock was dark.

“Dammit. Did we lose electricity?”

He flicked his hand towards the light switch by the door to flip it on, but when it clicked nothing happened.

“How could we lose electricity to a house that’s powered by God’s will? Cas?”

The cabin was completely silent and still around him. Dean slowly stood from the bed and flicked his clothes back onto his body. He entered the hallway without making a sound and froze for a moment just to listen. There was absolutely no noise at all and the entire cabin was dark. He double-timed it to Sam’s door which was slightly ajar, so he willed it to open without making a sound. The room was empty and shadowed. Not a single one of his brother’s electronics showed even a glimmer of life.

“Sammy?”

His whispered voice bounced back at him from the vacant room.

“Oh… I’m not liking this. Not liking this at all.”

When he moved back into the hallway, Dean paused between the doors of Gabe’s and Balthazar’s rooms, but he could feel that the angels weren’t inside. They seemed just a barren of life as Sam’s. He tip-toed toward the staircase and glanced down into what he could make out of the living room below. Nothing seemed out of place, save for the deep shadows and utter silence. If there was one thing that could be said about the Alimony cabin… it was never quiet.

Dean padded down the spiral staircase with as much stealth as the wrought-iron would allow. As soon as he was able, he ducked down to peer into the large open living area and kitchen. There was no one on the first floor either. When he reached the last step he eyed the kitchen. No electricity there either, it seemed. He skirted along the wall until he reached the fridge and carefully pulled it open. The air inside was still cold, as if the power was running, but the light didn’t come on and the absence of the static hum of the compressor made the silence of the kitchen that much more eerie.

He closed the door and turned to face the living room. The windows appeared almost an opaque black. He couldn’t make out Bobby’s house or any of the lights he always had running around the perimeter of the scrap yard. Taking a deep breath, Dean trotted toward the front door. When he quietly stepped out onto the front porch, it was only to be greeted with more inky blackness obscuring everything around him from view. He could just barely make out the shapes of the cars in the yard and the dirt paths that weaved around the whole place like a maze.

“Dammit.”

He scooted forward cautiously into the yard for a couple feet before an idea struck him. Bringing his right hand out before him, Dean imagined growing a tiny ball of light in his palm. It manifested ever so slowly, but eventually there was a tiny sun floating above the center of his palm. Dean grinned in triumph as he raised his head to take in the somewhat illuminated yard around him.

“HOLY FUCK!”

Reapers. There were fucking reapers everywhere. Between each nook and cranny created by the cars. Dozens and dozens of them standing there in their black suits with their gaunt faces. Just staring at him. Dean spun in a full turn on his heel, only to find more of them blocking his way back to the cabin.

“Shit!”

As one, all the reapers took a single step closer to him. Dean pulled his power to manifest his wings, arching them out high behind him. He tossed the little sun up in the air so that it was hovering just above his head.

“Okay! Okay! Let’s everyone stay calm here! I know you guys don’t really want to be doing this! I had a little chat with your Daddy, and he really wants everyone to run along home now. Ignore whatever verbal diarrhea Crowley is yammering into your ears.”

“Dean. You wound me.”

The current Ruler of Hell stepped from behind a beefy reaper, an angel blade in his hand glinting in the flickering light. Crowley raised his arm as if to throw the blade, but Dean flung himself backwards and demanded his power to take him far away. Take me to the horseman, wherever he is. The world shifted around him, and he felt dizzy and lightheaded before slamming into something flimsy.

The bright sun in the sky nearly blinded him, and he instantly brought his wings around his body to shield himself. He pulled one of the white wings out of the way to peek around it. People milled about him everywhere, weaving in and around brightly colored tents as far as the eye could see.

“What… the hell?”

A paper crinkled under his toes and he raised his foot to peer down at it. It was a flyer. For the Texas State Fair … 1982.

“No fucking way.”

“Dean?”

His head whipped up to meet the slightly wide eyes of Death himself. The human’s wings drooped in relief. The horseman was eyeing him curiously, all the while holding something fried and undistinguishable in his hand. It looked like a shapeless ball of dough on a stick … nevertheless…

“It actually worked. I came right to you.”

Death tilted his head a fraction before nibbling daintily on the suspicious (maybe) piece of food.

“But how did you arrive here? This is the past.”

Dean shrugged.

“No idea, man. All I know is that I woke up in Reaperville, population: holy shit, and Crowley was about to shish-ka-bob me. So I demanded my power to bring me to you, no matter where you were… and here we are.”

The horseman hummed thoughtfully under his breath before he turned to walk away. Dean tucked his wings in close and followed quickly after the older man.

“If you traveled through time that effortlessly, your powers are manifesting very rapidly indeed.”

Dean grimaced when he accidentally stepped into a cooling spill of melted ice cream with his bare foot. He flicked the mess away with a small burst of power, but didn’t call for his shoes. It almost physically pained him to wear anything on his feet now. If he couldn’t feel the power of the earth beneath him he felt disconnected and itchy.

Death finished off whatever hideous blob of food had been on the stick, and without turning to look, flung the little piece of wood straight into a trash can. He continued to meander along, and it took Dean a moment to realize they were right in the heart of the food vendors at the fair. No fucking wonder.

“Oh! We really must try one of the corndogs! They are quite famous for them here!”

Dean followed him helplessly as they navigated to the most crowded stand in the area. The horseman just strode right up to the vendor, ignoring the line, and plucked two corndogs directly out of his hand. The man didn’t even seem to notice, kept conversing with the person at the front of the queue.

“Would you like mustard?”

The ex-hunter just nodded and took the corndog when it was offered to him. Death was already munching away.

“Mmm… these are delightful.”

They moved through the crowd to find an empty bench and sit down.

“So would you like to tell me why you sought me out, Dean?”

Downing the last bite of his food before flicking the stick into non-existence, Dean grunted and stretched out his wings. His shoulders were beginning to cramp for holding them so tightly against his body.

“I laid down for a nap, and when I woke up the world was a supernatural kind of dark and every living thing had apparently disappeared. When I walked outside there were fucking reapers everywhere. I tried to reason with them, but they didn’t even acknowledge me. Then Crowley showed up and I just kind of … flung myself away, and ended up here.”

A thoughtful sound accompanied the end of his story, and the horseman flicked his empty corndog stick into a trashcan about fifty yards away. Dean blinked.

“Nice one.”

Death smirked.

“Thank you, Dean. I’m going to assume then, that the sniveling malcontent holds more power over them than I had at first considered. The reapers were most likely altering your reality so that you could only see what Crowley wished you to. Your family was probably right there alongside you, attempting to gain your attention, but you were unable to communicate or see them. The angels, Crowley, nor the reapers would be able to follow you here, however. You are safe for now.”

The younger man nodded and fluttered his wings out behind him.

“So this is the assmunch’s big plan then? Get your kiddos to warp the world around me and stake me through the heart with an angel blade?”

Death tilted his head and shifted his gaze to meet Dean’s.

“He had an angel blade with him? Then the fool is even more obtuse as I had first reasoned.”

“Why is that?”

The horseman snorted as he moved to stand.

“Because you cannot be killed with an angel blade. You are not an angel. Yes, the feathery additions may make it seem so, but they are more a materialization of your increasing power. There is nothing of the Heavenly Hosts inside you as of yet.”

Death smirked just slightly.

“Or perhaps I should rephrase that.”

Dean blanched.

“Please tell me the Grim Reaper did not just make a sex joke. Please.”

The older man huffed a soft laugh.

“That was not a joke, Dean. That was an insinuation. If I had wished to tell a joke, I may have said something like ‘Your eyes are heavenly. Do you have a little angel in you? Would you like one?’”

Head dropping back to face the sky, Dean groaned in anguish.

“Please stop. Oh my God, I feel so skeevy right now.”

The horseman chuckled and turned away.

“Oh! A Frito pie! Yes, I’d very much like one of those, I think.”

Dean groaned again in mental agony, but quickly trotted after the other man.

~*~

“So what do you think I should do about Crowley?”

They were wondering through the other venues of the fair, finally having moved away from the food. Even though the horseman was still nibbling on something heavily fried and stuck on a stick. Dean was eyeing a vendor selling some pretty awesome stainless steel rings. He absently rubbed his thumb across the spot where his ring used to rest on his finger. Cas had tried to give it back to him, but he refused it. He liked how it looked on the angel, and it was a claiming of a sorts, in Dean’s mind.

“Well, if his big play is actually the angel blade, don’t concern yourself. In fact, I would almost suggest you let him stab you with it. The look on his face when it doesn’t work would likely be priceless.”

Dean grunted and stepped closer to the ring vendor. There was a heavy band of steel that looked almost identical to his old one and his fingers twitched.

“But what if you’re wrong and it does work? Then I’m dead and what did that accomplish?”

The horseman snorted delicately, but his eyes tracked Dean’s gaze to the ring. He raised his hand, palm up, and with a tap of his cane the ring appeared in his hand. Dean eyed it suspiciously for a second before turning back to the vendor’s stand. The ring he had been eyeing still rested against the velvet blanket on the table. He arched an eyebrow and Death returned it with a smirk. He closed his fist firmly around the metal and a burst of power and light startled Dean for a brief second.

When it was done, the horseman opened his hand again and indicated with the arch of an eyebrow that Dean should take the band. Plucking it up quickly, Dean eyed the metal. There was a new etching of words on the inside that hadn’t been present in the original. He squinted to read them.

“Mors Vincit Omnia. Death conquers all. Really? You really just did that?”

The reaper smiled smugly.

“It can also be translated as ‘Death Always Wins’. I prefer that one, don’t you?”

Dean huffed a small laugh.

“So what am I supposed to do with it?”

Death turned and began to walk away.

“It is a ring. I would presume you were to wear it. Since you seem to be so concerned with Crowley killing you, this is my guarantee to you that he will not. The angel blade cannot kill you to begin with, but since you seem set on ignoring my view on that matter, this will assure that it cannot, even miraculously, do so. I’m putting a brand of protection on your life, Dean. I do hope you appreciate the significance of it.”

The human nodded and eyed the words on the metal for another moment, before he slipped it on his finger. He flexed his hand a couple times and grinned. Didn’t feel so naked without it anymore, and now he and Cas had a matching set. He snorted. Holy shit he was turning into one cheesy-ass mother fucker.

“I think it’s time we get you home. I’m sure your family is beside themselves with worry.”

They wandered slowly over to the giant cowboy statue that was the mascot of the fair. Big Tex waved at them repetitively from above. Dean arched his wings out behind him and ruffled them as if preparing for flight. Death tossed away his remaining stick from his last snack and leaned forward with both hands resting on his cane.

“Do you wish to attempt the journey yourself? Or would you like me to do it?”

Dean spread his wings as far as they could go and eyed them with interest.

“I think I’d like to try myself. Never gonna learn if I can’t do it on my own. Baby steps.”

Death hummed.

“Indeed. Infant deities. Always entertaining.”

Dean snorted and spread his feet, crouched just a little, as if he planned to jump straight up into the air. The horseman sighed.

“I shall go first. Just follow the trail I leave and you will see what you need to do.”

Dean nodded in response and closed his eyes to concentrate on the power and presence of the horseman. He felt the spark of energy distribution a second before the other flickered away into the ether. Taking a deep breath, he commanded his wings to follow and launched himself into nothingness. His usual method of transport was to imagine a line of string between where he was and where he wanted to be. It seemed to work well in this situation, too. He just imagined the string tied around the ankle of the horseman.

After a scant few seconds his world shuddered to a stop and he released the breath he had been holding. When he slowly opened his eyes, Dean found himself standing in the middle of his own living room. Death was perched on his preferred barstool looking as composed as ever. The cabin, though, was still empty of life.

“Well done, Dean.”

Concentrating on the method Cas had taught him, he managed to release the manifestation of his wings with a sigh.

“So we’re back, but where is everyone?”

Death made a dismissive motion with his face and glanced at the refrigerator in the kitchen.

“Likely off scouring the world for you.”

Dean released a puff of air before he moved over to open the fridge. There were a couple high-end distillery beers that Sammy preferred on the top shelf, so he snagged them and offered one to the horseman. Death gave a curious little smirk of a smile before nodding his head. Dean flicked the caps into non-existence and handed the bottle over before settling himself down on a stool. The reaper took a swig and made a pleased hum at the taste before speaking again.

“Call your ducklings home, Dean.”

The ex-hunter rolled his eyes once before doing just that. A short spike of a demanded return, and not even a breath later the living room was filled with people…or three angels, a little brother, and a grouchy old codger to be more precise. Four of the five released sighs of relief, but Cas just stormed up to Dean and smashed their faces together in a desperate kiss. Dean damn near dropped his bottle, but Death apparently plucked it out of his fingers and placed it on the counter top. The weight of Cas’ body was pressing him painfully back into the island but Dean didn’t really care. When his angel got like this Dean just submitted and enjoyed the ride.

Castiel finally pulled away with a soft sigh and rested his forehead against the human’s.

“You weren’t anywhere. You were just gone … again.”

Dean grimaced slightly before reaching up to card his fingers through the angel’s perpetual sex hair.

“Sorry, babe-,”

Balthazar made a gagging sound.

“-but I wasn’t where… I was when. Texas, 1982, to be precise.”

Cas gave him a patented confused head tilt, but Sam stepped up to take the barstool next to Dean’s.

“You traveled through time, Dean?”

He could only nod at his brother’s questioning gaze. Castiel was so warm and close, and he hadn’t moved away an inch. Dean released a relieved sigh and closed his eyes.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened from your point of view, and then I’ll fill in the blanks?”

Dean opened his eyes to glance at the horseman, but he was gone. So were both bottles of beer. Thieving bastard. In fact, the others hadn’t reacted to seeing the reaper at all. Huh. Sneaky, too.

Sam shifted on the stool.

“Cas said you woke up from a nap and wouldn’t respond when he tried to talk to you. You kept muttering about the electricity being out, but it wasn’t. Then you were sneaking around the house trying to be quiet and looking for something. You opened the door to my room and I asked if anything was wrong, but you reacted like I wasn’t even there. We followed you downstairs and Balthazar and Gabe tried to speak to you as well, but you couldn’t hear them either. Then you went outside, made a little ball of light in your hand and promptly freaked the fuck out. You started talking to someone we couldn’t see, then you were just gone.”

Gabe stepped forward and slung an arm around Sam’s shoulders.

“Couldn’t find you anywhere, boss. Never thought to look anywhen.”

Dean grunted in acknowledgement and Castiel finally stepped back to give him some room.

“Yeah, okay, so … I woke up from the nap and the house was dark and empty. Everything was off and I couldn’t sense you guys anywhere. I went outside and could barely see, so I conjured up the little sun and found myself surrounded by reapers.”

Sam tensed and Castiel gripped Dean by the wrist.

“What happened, Dean?”

The elder Winchester shrugged a shoulder and shook his head.

“I tried to talk to them. Tell them Death wanted them to come home, but it was like they were completely vacant behind the eyes. Then Crowley showed up.”

All three angels bristled and Bobby finally decided to speak up, hunkered down on the barstool Death had previously been residing in.

“That bastard was here? With all of us standing around? And we didn’t see him or sense him?”

Sam snapped his fingers and motioned at Gabriel with his head.

“Yeah! And shouldn’t the angels have been able to see the reapers?”

Dean shrugged again.

“I don’t know what to tell you, man. Death said that the reapers could alter my reality to make me see what they wanted me to see. Maybe with all of them together, and Crowley with his hands on the scythe, maybe they could mask it from you somehow. Anyway, Crowley came at me and I just flung myself away. Demanded my power take me to Death, and the next thing I knew I was at the Texas State Fair, thirty-one years ago.”

Sam chewed on his bottom lip.

“Because the horseman of Death was at the Texas State Fair.”

Dean laughed.

“Of course he was, Sam. Do you know how many fried foods they have at the place?”

Bobby snorted and scratched at his beard absently.

“So whadja learn, hanging out with your BFF, apocalypse horseman numero uno?”

“Besides the fact that the amount of fried food the man can put away is completely disproportionate to his size? Pretty much that Crowley has more control over the reapers than we’d previously thought, and that the corndogs from 1982 are really fucking delicious. Man, we didn’t know how good we had it before the whole kibosh on using honest-to-God grease was heaped upon us.”

Sam groaned and rolled his eyes in an epic bitchface.

“We were going crazy trying to find you, and you were eating? For hours?”

Dean smiled apologetically.

“Sorry, Sammy, but I was kinda stuck there? And I was hungry?”

His younger brother growled something with the potential to be mentally scarring, before he hopped off the barstool and started making his way to the staircase.

“Well, I’m done for the night. I’m heading to bed.”

Gabriel perked up and bounced along behind him for a second, before Sam turned and practically snarled at the angel.

“No. You’re not coming.”

The archangel pouted like a kid being pulled out of a candy store as Sam stomped his way up the stairs. Dean grinned. He knew something was going on there. Poor, poor delusional Sammy. His playing so hard to get was practically just chumming the waters for that particular angel. Gabriel turned back to look at Dean and smirked before flickering away. There was a pause of silence for the length of a couple breaths before Sam’s voice screeched from upstairs.

“GABRIEL!!”

Dean’s snicker was interrupted by a deep yawn. Balthazar had already wandered off to who knows where, and Bobby slapped a hand down on Dean’s shoulder for a good old manly squeeze goodnight. Dean watched the older man walk out of the cabin before turning back to face Cas. There was a Sammy-level of epic bitch-face coming from the angel and Dean swallowed so harshly that his throat clicked.

“Cas?”

The angel was glaring at Dean’s hand, so the ex-hunter followed his gaze down and … oh. The ring. Right. Castiel crossed his arms over his chest before raising his eyes to meet Dean’s and, rather impressively for a dude still learning to act human, arched a cynical eyebrow.

“What is that, Dean?”

Dean smiled softly and rubbed across the cool surface of the metal with his thumb. It felt so much better to have something back on his finger again.

“It’s a ring, Cas. I saw one at the fair that reminded me of the one I gave you. So Death kind of … created one for me. Of course he had to personalize it in a completely ridiculous, not really that funny sort of way. But he’s kind of odd like that.”

Castiel’s scowl deepened.

“A horseman of the apocalypse … the most notorious horseman of the four … made a ring. For you. And you accepted it?”

Dean blinked. He was obviously missing something here.

“Well … yeah? I wanted it because it looks just like my old one … and I figured … now we have matching ones? Kinda like …,”

His voice tapered off and he made a nonsensical motion with his hand, unsure of exactly how he wanted to end that sentence. For his part, Castiel had dropped his arms and his eyes were wide with surprise and something else Dean couldn’t quite place. Excitement, maybe? Hope? Dean licked his lips in a bout of sudden nerves. The angel’s gaze locked onto Dean’s mouth and a familiar flutter started up in his belly. He’s pretty sure if he had a tail it would be attempting to wag right off his ass at the moment. Dean traced his lips again slowly and Cas’ eyes went dark with desire. With a wicked grin Dean transported himself up to their room.

Castiel was right behind him, but when he reached for Dean, the human flickered away from him to the other side of the room. Cas blinked once before he turned to stalk toward him again. Dean pulled his own shirt off over his head quickly, and just when Cas reached out to grab him he flicked away again to the opposite corner of their bedroom. His lover whipped around to glare at him and began to viciously tug his clothes off and toss them towards the hamper. Dean grinned. Cas was always super careful with his clothes, but apparently a little teasing overrode that habit. Dean was tugging off his pants when the angel almost reached him again, and when he flickered away he left them behind.

“Dean!”

He chuckled as he watched Cas shuck off his pants and briefs in one go. Not surprisingly, the angel’s cock was already half mast and raring to go. Dean licked his bottom lip once before pulling it between his teeth and biting down. Castiel fucking growled as he stalked toward him and Dean shivered in response. He started to pull down his boxer briefs and flick away again, but Cas put on an unnatural burst of speed and gripped him around the waist to slam him up against the wall. Dean gasped and rolled his hips subconsciously. The angel’s mouth immediately latched on to his neck and began to suck and bite down the length of it.

Dean arched his back and tilted his head up towards the ceiling to give him more access. His arms had wound themselves around Cas’ shoulders, and the angel’s hands left his waist to slide under Dean’s briefs where he grabbed both globes of the human’s ass tightly. Dean made a hungry noise in the back of his throat. No matter how many times they did this together, it never got old or boring or repetitive. In fact, it seemed like the more times they had sex, the more Dean was fucking desperate for it. He groaned as one of Cas’ long fingers trailed down the cleft of his ass and ghosted over his hole.

“C-Cas…,”

The angel grunted against his neck before moving up to bite softly at Dean’s jaw. That finger was circling and twirling around him now, before it finally pushed against him softly. A firm pressure that was offering so much more. Dean whimpered and rotated his hips to ask for that more. With a rustle of feathers he suddenly found himself face down on the bed and sans underwear. Cas’ finger continued to tease at him even as the angel reached over to the bed stand to snag their bottle of lube. Dean spreads his legs so that Cas could settle back between them and shoved his arms under the pillow to grip the bed frame.

He sucked in a breath when cold lube suddenly dripped down between his cheeks and over Cas’ finger. That single digit took turns spreading the lube around thoroughly and pressing inside of him. Dean could only manage to groan and shake as one finger became two, and then three. He was panting into the pillow when Cas finally pulled them out completely and gripped Dean’s hips to pull him up onto his knees. Dean whined a little (fuck you, he’d dare you not to do it in the same situation) when he could make out the sound of Castiel slicking up his cock.

As usual, the first push made him tense up a little, but Cas was becoming an old pro at this and immediately began to soothe him with soft little coos of noise and a warm hand rubbing at the small of his back. When he finally felt himself begin to relax, Cas pushed in the rest of the way and Dean couldn’t help but keen at the stretch. The angel bent forward to place a kiss between the blades of his shoulders. He pulled out almost to the tip before thrusting gently back inside. Dean shifted his hips to improve the angle and sighed happily when it did.

“Dean … I would … I wish…,”

The human turned his head enough to see the flushed face of his lover behind him, soft pants of air escaping them both with every slap of hips.

“What… what do you want, Cas?”

Castiel groaned and closed his eyes as his fingers dug into the meat of Dean’s thighs.

“I … your wings. Can I see them?”

Dean smiled softly and patted Cas gently on the side.

“Pull out and lay down.”

The angel did so almost too eagerly, although he was sure not to hurt Dean when he removed himself. Dean pushed up into a kneel while Cas stretched out in the center of the mattress. With a deep breath, he pulled the power he needed to manifest them, and then his wings burst out behind him, both pairs arching high up towards the ceiling. Castiel gasped with delight and Dean just grinned smugly down at his lover before straddling the angel’s hips and reaching beneath to guide Cas’ cock back inside.

When his ass settled against Cas’ pelvis and he was fully seated, Dean released a shuddering sigh at the sensation of being filled once more. Castiel pulled his knees up so that he could plant his feet on the bed and Dean hummed happily as he began to swivel his hips in little figure eights. Cas groaned once, harsh and sounding almost pained, before thrusting upwards. Dean’s wings fluttered at the sensation and Cas’ gaze locked on to them. Pulling himself up until the angel’s cock was only barely inside of him, Dean pulled the pair of black wings forward and around his body until he could run the feathers along Castiel’s sides.

The angel mewled at the contact and then increased his speed to thrust up in earnest. Dean left the wings where they were and cried out at the pace Cas was setting.

“Fuck! Fuck! Cas!”

Each frantic push would punch a soft grunt straight out of Dean. The room was filled with the mingled sound of slapping flesh, rustling feathers and whispered little ‘ungh, ungh, ungh’ noises that Dean couldn’t stop if he even wanted to try. Cas was hitting his prostate with about every third drive and Dean’s own dick was damn near purple and leaking like a fountain. He left it alone. He had yet to come completely untouched before, but tonight’s sex was probably good enough to do it and he wanted to try. His balls were already starting to draw up tight.

One of the black wings stretched up far enough to brush delicately at Castiel’s face and the angel opened his mouth to lick at the feathers. Dean groaned at the sight before closing his eyes and dropping his head backwards. He was getting fucking close to shattering apart into a million pieces. Surging up with his trembling thigh muscles he started to slam himself down to meet each of Cas’ thrusts upwards. The angel cried out in shock, but didn’t slow his pace at all.

His orgasm caught him a little by surprise. Everything was feeling too much and too good and then his entire body was clenching up and he was rolling forward and coming all over Castiel’s stomach. White was bursting behind his eyelids and he could feel his hole clamping the angel’s cock like a vise. Cas sucked in a breath and gasped it out with Dean’s name upon his lips, then there was the odd little pressure of come being released inside his channel and Dean shivered.

Cas lost control of his legs and his feet slipped along the sheets until his limbs were splayed out straight on the bed again. Dean remained seated where he was. He knew it would take a couple minutes for the angel’s dick to completely soften, and he was never really eager to lose that fullness inside of him. Cas was panting to catch his breath and running his fingertips up and down Dean’s still twitching thighs. The ex-hunter reached his hands up high over his head for nice long stretch, arching his back and staring up at the ceiling. He flapped both sets of wings a couple times, reveling in the gentle gusts of breeze they created, before stretching them both up and out with a groan. When he glanced back down, Cas was just staring at him in awe.

“What’s up, Cas?”

The angel smiled softly, eyes trailing over Dean’s face and back towards his wings.

“You are so beautiful, Dean.”

The human flushed and dropped his gaze to the mess on Cas’ belly. He flicked his wrist and the come vanished.

“Nah. You’re the pretty one, babe.”

The dick in his ass had finally gone soft, so Dean sighed and slowly pulled himself off. He grimaced a little at the trickle that immediately followed it, but with a small burst of power, that was quickly cleaned up as well. He shifted sideways so he could lay flat on his belly beside his lover. His wings lowered until they were covering them both like blankets and Cas grinned at them warmly.

“I think you underestimate just how lovely you are, Dean.”

The human snorted and wrapped an arm tightly around Cas’ chest. He tucked his face into the curve of the angel’s neck and kissed the warm skin there. Sleep was coming up fast, so he closed his eyes and concentrated on the sensation of fingers combing through his feathers. He mumbled softly right before he drifted off.

“Love you, Cas.”

The hands in his wings paused for a brief second.

“And I love you, Dean. Very much.”

Dean sighed in contentment before he finally drifted off.

CHAPTER FOUR

DCBB - Death Comes for Mr. Winchester - CHAPTER 2

bunnymaccool — Sun, 13 Oct 2013 04:45:51 GMT

CHAPTER TWO

It took several hours, a bit of screaming, a LOT of cursing and a smack or two from Bobby before Dean managed to make the two sets of wings de-materialize from his back. He was grouchy and sweated by the time they achieved success, and honestly a bit worried at his other two angel’s continued absence. Whenever they had popped up top previously, they never stayed long, just enough for reconnaissance. This time they had been gone for the entire ordeal of Dean tucking away his new appendages and still hadn’t returned.

“I don’t like it.”

Castiel sighed as he pulled out a new set of sheets from their closet.

“You are connected to them, Dean. If something had happened… you would feel it.”

Dean shifted out of the angel’s way so that he could make the bed with their thirteenth set of sheets. (They stocked a surplus of them at this point.) This set was a pale orange color, and Dean was pretty sure that was Cas punishing him for vaporizing the last set.

“Yeah, I got that … but I still don’t like it. Gabriel’s not even responding when I poke him, and he loves to poke me back. Viciously.”

Cas hummed softly under his breath as he retrieved the down comforter and spread it across the foot of the bed.

“He may just be concentrating on whatever has happened.”

Dean growled and kicked at the pillows stacked on the floor.

“Dammit. It just pisses me off that I can’t send you up there to sort it out.”

The angel froze in the middle of reaching for one of the pillows and Dean cursed under his breath. Castiel hated when he was reminded about his banishment from Heaven. Even if he was happy with his life on earth. Even if he was in love with Dean. He didn’t like to think about being shut out of his home. Dean quickly crossed the room to wrap his arms around the slighter man.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

Castiel sighed and pushed himself gently out of Dean’s embrace.

“You did not have to bring up what I was already thinking of.”

“Cas-,”

“I think I would like to go for a walk, Dean.”

“Yeah, sure, babe wherever you-,”

“Alone, please, Dean.”

The ex-hunter blinked, a little stunned at first, but nodded to show his angel that he understood. Cas turned abruptly and walked out the door, leaving his human to just stare at his retreating back. Dean flopped backwards onto the mattress and sighed at the ceiling. Great. Just great. What a fanfuckingtastic day he was having.

There was a soft knock at the door and a lift of his head revealed Sam leaning in the doorway.

“You okay, Dean?”

The elder brother snorted before allowing his head to drop back onto the bed.

“Just peachy, Sammy. You?”

Sam moved further into the room until he was standing close enough to cast Dean in his massive shadow. His arms were crossed over his chest and the look on his face was hitting bitch level.

“I’m worried about you.”

Dean snorted but Sam continued as if he hadn’t.

“You’ve got these power surges happening, you nearly had a breakdown over the wings this afternoon, and now Cas just walked out of here looking like he was sucking on a lemon.”

“Maybe he was.”

“Dean!”

The younger man sighed again before sitting on the edge of the bed near Dean’s knees.

“There’s a lot going on. And it’s scary and crazy and maybe… just a little too big for you to handle by yourself like you always do. Talk to us. Talk to me or Cas or Bobby. Stop bottling this shit all up inside. Jesus, Dean! You have wings! And the power to move things, change things … you’re going to be the replacement for God. God! Sometimes I just don’t know what to think about all this. Sometimes I just get lost inside my head with it. So I can’t imagine what it’s like for you.”

Dean rolled over on his side facing away from his brother, hoping that would end the conversation. No such luck.

“It’s just … you’re so quiet lately. Not that you were ever particularly verbose, but this is different. You don’t talk to me anymore. You keep saying you’re fine, but I have a lifetime of experience telling me how empty that word is when it comes to your well-being. I don’t know what’s going on inside that stupid, thick skull of yours. Are you okay with all of this? Are you really, really okay with this?”

Dean grunted before he flipped back over to stare at his younger brother.

“Does it really matter, Sam? I don’t get a choice in this. Haven’t since the very beginning. So it’s more about figuring out how to work with the hand I’ve been dealt, rather than painting our fingernails and bonding over Hagen Daas.”

Sam snorted before twisting his body to lie down beside his brother.

“You always take too much onto yourself. You’re not alone here. Even if you didn’t have me and the others… you have Cas. I mean, he’s like your … life partner, or whatever, right? Do you even talk about this with him? How you’re changing? What the future holds for both of you?”

Dean pursed his lips and refused to meet his brother’s gaze.

“Or are you just focusing on your physical relationship and leaving Castiel just as in the dark as I am?”

“What do you expect me to say, Sam? I don’t do share and care. That’s just not in my makeup. I can’t tell you how I’m feeling about everything if I haven’t even sorted it out in my own head, now can I? I’m just trying to do the best that I can, day by day, for everyone that depends on me. And for everything that will depend on me in the future.”

The younger Winchester sighed softly before he slowly lifted himself off the mattress.

“That’s just my point, Dean. You’re always talking about doing right for everyone else … but who do you depend on? Who do you lean on when you need a break?”

Before Dean could even formulate a response to the question, Sam had already left the room.

~*~

Cas didn’t come back that night. Neither did Gabriel or Balthazar. Dean spent a restless evening tossing and turning in the fucking orange sheets before he gave up at four a.m. and trudged his way down towards the kitchen. The cabin was silent and dark as he grabbed himself a beer from the fridge and popped off the cap without even touching it. He took two deep pulls of the drink before he settled himself on a barstool and rubbed a hand down his face in exhaustion.

“These fried pickle chips really are divine.”

“FUCK!”

Dean sprang backwards off the stool, sending his beer bottle spinning across the kitchen island to die a miserable, explosive death on the floor. Almost as an unconscious instinct, his wings had instantly manifested themselves to fling wide and help keep his balance. When he finally stumbled to a stop a couple feet away (heart beating like a maniac inside his chest), he could only glare at the figure calmly seated at the barstool that had been next to his.

Death. Fucking Death was sitting at his kitchen counter. Impeccably dressed as always and picking little bits of fried food out of a grease-stained paper bag. The (frankly) intimidating manifestation of the heebie-jeebies just arched a critical eyebrow at Dean’s flailing before picking up a take away cup and sucking down what appeared to be a vanilla milkshake.

“I do so love the new accessories, Dean. Very becoming.”

That damn voice, like silk over gravel, always with the condescendingly creepy tone that was somehow both sweet librarian and uncle bad touch. Dean could feel his wings quivering with nerves but he couldn’t still them.

“Jesus Christ! What the hell are you doing here?”

The slender horseman plopped another fried pickle into his mouth and chewed almost delicately for a moment before he responded.

“Given your current situation, you might wish to refrain from certain urbane uses of the language. After all… he is family now, isn’t he?”

Dean could only blink a couple times in response. He willed his brain not to go off on a tangent with the topic. Seriously… would Jesus be his family now? Whoa. Heady shit. Instead, he concentrated on slowly maneuvering himself back onto a barstool on the other end of the island. His wings were still arched out in tense lines behind him, but he knew that trying to find the concentration to will them away at this point would be … well … pointless. He flicked his wrist and the mess on the floor disappeared, and a new beer sprung to life in his empty hand. Death smirked at him.

“Impressive. Enjoying our parlor tricks I see.”

The hunter could only shrug as he gulped down several pulls of his drink. When he was finished, Dean wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and licked his lips.

“So… early morning visit from Death. Always a rejuvenating way to start your day. To what do I owe the pleasure? Social visit? Shall we play some bridge?”

The horseman heaved a very put-upon sigh before he discarded his bag of fried food on the counter.

“As delightful as that suggestion may seem, I’m afraid that I am here on a matter of business.”

Dean snorted as he placed his bottle back on the island.

“Business? With me? Not looking to take a little vacay, are you? Not sure I’m up to playing Death this week.”

The older man shifted on the barstool to face him fully, normal deadpan expression still eerily present.

“Again, lovely suggestion, but I’m afraid that wouldn’t be possible anymore even if you were being sincere.”

“Oh, really? Why’s that? I figured I’d be even more qualified at this point.”

He gestured vaguely to the four massive wings sprouting from his back. Death made a deep grunting noise of annoyance in the back of his throat that probably meant something along the lines of ‘stupid monkeys why can I not smite you all, woe is me’ … but Dean may have been projecting. Possibly.

“Hardly. Considering your recent promotion lays more in the realm of Giver of Life, rather than Angel of Death.”

Dean hummed under his breath as he scratched at his stubbly chin.

“Huh. Guess that makes sense.”

The horseman almost rolled his eyes, Dean could tell, but instead chose to stand and walk idly towards the living room of the cabin. A little hesitant, Dean stood to follow, commanding his wings to tuck in close to his back. They miraculously agreed.

“Something has been taken from me. Something that I have only recently had returned. The resulting mess that this action will no doubt set in motion has me a bit … put out.”

The human snorted.

“Who would be stupid enough to piss off Death?”

Slowly cutting his eyes towards Dean, the older man raised a single skeptical eyebrow. Oh… right. Dean smirked and shrugged a shoulder.

“Point. So barring yours truly… who was it this time?”

“A mutual acquaintance we unfortunately share. One that fancies himself the King of Hell at the moment.”

Dean groaned.

“Crowley? Son of a bitch. What did he do now?”

The horseman ran his thin, spindly fingers along the back of the leather couch as he wandered over towards the massive stone fireplace in the corner. With a tap of his ever-present cane, a fire roared to life even though there weren’t actually any logs inside the pit at the moment. A satisfied smirk appeared on the horseman’s face before he elegantly settled himself into one of the large seats just before the fireplace. He gestured to the matching chair facing him with his cane and Dean shuffled over to plop down inside it.

“The annoyingly bombastic imbecile has stolen my scythe.”

“The one I gave you back in Chicago?”

Death pursed his lips.

“Indeed. I had left it in what I had considered a safe place, but apparently the sticky-fingered pilferer managed to snatch it up whilst I wasn’t aware. I sent my reapers out to find him and retrieve it for me, but the braggart must have used it to influence them in some way. They are no longer responding to my command.”

Dean’s spine shot ram-rod straight. His wings attempted to flare out wide in shock, but they were trapped in the confines of the chair and just beat against his back instead.

“Wait. The reapers aren’t obeying … Death. All of them?”

The horseman reached over with his cane to rap the tip of it against Dean’s knee.

“Yes, all of them. Even your little friend Tessa. Do try to pay attention, Dean. I’m not here conversing with you merely to listen to the sound of my own voice.”

Dean barely managed to stop himself from sticking his tongue out at the Angel of Death. Barely.

“Why would Crowley want the reapers? What can he gain from controlling them?”

Death sighed and settled back further in his chair.

“Admittedly, this is the question I am currently asking myself as well. The only theory I could possibly come up with… was that he plans to use them against you somehow.”

This time his wings startled so much that they popped out from behind him and shot forward towards the other man. All they managed to accomplish was nearly smothering Dean in feathers. He had to physically push them out of the way with his hands in order to stare at Death through them.

“Me? What the hell? Why?”

The horseman was twirling his cane with disinterest in his hands as he answered.

“I assume because you would not back down to him as he demanded of you.”

“You … you know about that?”

Never in a million years had the eldest Winchester could have imagined he would have the horrific pleasure of witnessing the Grand Grim Reaper … scoff. It was, dare he say, almost enough to qualify as a giggle.

“Dean, the entirety of Heaven and Hell know what you did. The Heavenly Host and their supporters speak of you in hushed whispers as if you were a superhero in some sort of graphic novel-,”

“Awesome!”

“-those that err on the side of Crowley are after your pretty little head. They believe, reasonably so, that bringing your skull on a spike to him would ingratiate and embolden themselves to the current ruler of Hell.”

“Well damn. That kind of puts a damper on the hero worship bit.”

Death scoffed. Again. Surreal.

“Indeed.”

“So he’s going to try and sick your reapers on me? What’s he after?”

“I’m assuming that he is trying to kill you, of course. Or perhaps take out enough of your precious family to weaken your resolve. Anything is possible with his contemptible little mind.”

Dean shifted in his seat and pushed one of the black wings down into his lap to pick at the feathers absently.

“Is he strong enough to sway them to his side? Is it going to work?”

The horseman twitched just a little in his chair.

“I am unsure. I highly doubt that the leech is strong enough to control them outright. At most I believe they may be out there, wandering aimlessly, with no intent or purpose. There is a possibility that some of the younger of my flock may be weak enough to be persuaded. This is why I’m here.”

The human could only nod in response as he tugged on a slightly bent errant feather. After a final pull, the feather was plucked out of the wing and Dean studied the blue sheen of it in the firelight.

“What will they do if he manages to persuade them? Try to reap us? Kill us?”

Death hummed thoughtfully at the question, but his eyes were tracking the feather clasped between Dean’s fingers.

“Reapers cannot kill those not already scheduled for death. They are, however, a formidable force to be reckoned with. They never tire nor feel pain. You cannot catch them or exorcise them from a body, as you can with demons. If I were to guess… I believe Crowley may use them as a front line of attack, as it were. To wear you down enough that his horde can slip in behind and finish the job. I believe you’ve angered him. Crowley thought he knew you, from the time when you worked together. He thought he understood you enough to be able to play your fears. Force you to dance to his tune. Clearly you have risen above his expectations of you, and are forcing his hand. I would tread very lightly.”

Dean grunted in agreement as he slouched back into his chair. He moved to flick the loose feather into the fire, when the horseman abruptly raised a hand to stop him.

“Wait. My I have that?”

Frozen in place, Dean arched a single eyebrow at the other man.

“You want … the feather?”

Death merely nodded before turning his hand so the palm faced upward.

“Please. If I may?”

Dean’s eyes narrowed.

“Why?”

The horseman pursed his lips in thought, but his gaze did not leave the feather.

“A piece of The Chosen, freely given, would be a powerful object to possess. A key that would open many doors, as it were. In the right company it would signify that the beholder was entrusted by The Chosen with something of his own and should be respected and obeyed as if the words were spoken by God himself. In the wrong company … it would signify my allegiance to you and very likely anger Crowley fiercely.”

Dean’s gaze flicked down to the blue-black feather held between his thumb and forefinger.

“You would give your allegiance … to me?”

Death sighed and wiggled his fingers with impatience.

“I do admit that often I find you to be an irritating mouth-breather, but for the most part you are a highly entertaining creature in the tedium that is my existence. I would not have come here to warn you of the impending attack by Crowley had I not already swayed myself further to your side of the fence. I know God, Dean … and you sir, are no God. But you have the potential to be.”

The ex-hunter was stunned for a moment by the horseman’s words before he slowly leaned forward to place the feather in Death’s outstretched hand. The older man’s eyes widened a fraction at the first touch against his skin and a tiny smile stretched across his thin lips.

“How enchanting.”

Dean coughed.

“Do you … want a white one, too? Matching set, or whatever?”

For a split second the Angel of Death had a look on his face that could have rivaled a pre-pubescent girl at a Justin Bieber concert, but it was gone in a flash. Dean could only chuckle in response, but made sure not to meet the horseman’s gaze after doing so. He pulled down one of his white wings and began to idly ruffle through them, trying to find one that was damaged enough to warrant plucking it out. Death leaned forward in his chair, supported by his cane, and helpfully (yeah, right) tried to point out feathers that might suffice.

This was how Dean’s three angels found them twenty minutes later.

“That one there would be lovely.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that one! You keep trying to find the best ones. I think you’re missing the point.”

“Ooh! What about this one? I like this one.”

“That one is completely perfect and healthy! The whole point of grooming out feathers is to find the ones that are damaged and need to be removed.”

Gabriel cleared his throat and mumbled a confused ‘um, boss?’ but Dean only swished his hand at him with irritation and continued his conversation with the horseman.

“This one is so pretty, though.”

Dean growled in exasperation before he reached down to grasp the feather and plucked it out.

“Oh my God, fine! Have the pretty one! Happy?”

The horseman actually grinned as he snatched the feather from Dean’s hand.

“Yes. Very much so.”

Castiel stepped forward cautiously.

“Dean?”

Death stopped twirling the white feather for a moment as he slowly turned to take in the three new additions to their fireside chat.

“Oh, do look … your three stooges have arrived at last.”

That seemed to smack a little reality back into Dean and he hopped instantly to his feet, fought off a tangle of wings, and then stomped a couple paces towards Castiel.

“Where the hell have you been? All of you!? I’ve been worried shitless!”

Balthazar snorted delicately as Gabriel crossed his arms tightly over his chest.

“Really? Seems more like you’ve been having a tea party with the Grim Reaper.”

Dean rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to speak, but said reaper slowly stood from his chair and tapped his cane on the floor once. The fire immediately went out in the fireplace.

“Do learn to hold your tongue, Gabriel. It was a favor to your Father that allowed you to return to life. I would have no issue reneging on the deal should you piss me off.”

The archangel blustered visibly, but remained quiet. Death turned once again to Dean as he gently tucked the two feathers in his hand into his suit pocket.

“As always, this has been lovely. I hope you take my warning to heart, and do let me know if you find out anything regarding my particular … predicament.”

Dean nodded, but before his head even stopped moving, the horseman was gone. Castiel instantly descended on him, grabbing him roughly by the shoulders and squeezing tightly.

“Are you alright? Why was he here?”

Balthazar tutted as he turned towards the kitchen to snag his ever present bottle of wine.

“More importantly, Cassie dear, what the hell was he talking about? What warning and what predicament?”

Gabriel nodded and shadowed Dean as he pushed away from Cas to head towards the fridge himself. Another beer would be in order for this.

“I’ll tell you everything he said, but first you need to tell me where you’ve been, and Cas … please help me put these damn wings away again.”

CHAPTER THREE

DCBB - Death Comes for Mr. Winchester - CHAPTER 1

bunnymaccool — Sun, 13 Oct 2013 04:44:41 GMT

CHAPTER ONE

Dean grumbled under his breath as he struggled to untangle himself from the sheets wrapped tightly around his legs. Fighting with bedding so early in the morning before coffee and bacon had never been his forte. After, honestly, way too many minutes of hazy half-asleep flailing… he growled and flicked his wrist sharply. Power surged through his veins and the (not so innocent) linen vaporized into dust around him.

He surged to his feet and stomped out of the room into the hallway. The house was eerily quiet and it bugged him, but Sam and the Angel Squad ™ were off currently investigating some werewolf activity in a small town in California. When he reached the landing of the spiral staircase, he eyed its twisting metal of vicious doom for a second before shrugging. Fuck it.

In an instant he’d transported himself down into the kitchen. Heh. Godly powers were totally his bitch.

There was a brief second when he materialized where he could have sworn he’d heard the faintest flutter of wings, but when he spread out his senses… no angels were nearby. Dean pursed his lips.

“Huh.”

He took his time concentrating on the fridge, trying to decide if he wanted to actually bother with fixing anything himself or attempt to use his power to pull it from somewhere else. It was still something he hadn’t quite gotten the hang of yet. (Much to Gabriel’s amusement.) The first try had resulted in a fairly disturbing explosion of ground beef across every surface of the kitchen. (It was really better not to ask.) Finally, Dean sighed and reached out to pull open the door of the fridge. The heavy tread of Bobby’s work boots gave him pause.

“Jodi’s just finished up breakfast if you’re hankering for food.”

Dean grinned and whipped around to face the older man standing in the doorway of the cabin.

“Oh, bless her.”

Bobby rolled his eyes and motioned for Dean to follow him. The younger man smirked before flickering out of existence, to reappear inside the kitchen of Bobby’s home. Jodi screeched and flung a spatula at his face, but Dean just cackled and froze its progress in mid-air. The sheriff glared at him before returning to plating up eggs and bacon.

“You keep doing that and one day you’re liable to end up with a bullet lodged in a very uncomfortable place.”

Dean gave her his most winning smile before turning his attention to the table. With very little effort, he made the chairs pull themselves out and the silverware place itself delicately on the marred wood of the surface. There was a deep sigh from Bobby as he entered the room.

“This crap’s never gonna get old for you, is it?”

The younger man shrugged his shoulders as he settled into a chair.

“Nope.”

Bobby grunted as he plopped himself down opposite.

“You don’t think it’s an abuse of power to mess around with furniture and dining utensils?”

Dean snorted.

“Gotta practice somehow, you old coot, and I don’t hear you complaining when I’m helping you clean up the yard.”

The older hunter just shook his head, and the three dug into their meal in relative silence. After devouring the food and planting a smacking kiss on Jodi’s cheek in thanks, Dean meandered out the door and towards the back of the yard. There was a forgotten area of Singer Salvage that housed the skeletons of cars so rusted and degraded they couldn’t really be used for much anymore. Dean had been methodically crushing them to particles over the past month in order to clear up some space.

Jodi had decided that some cleaning and re-organizing was in order, and she had Bobby so domesticated that he’d happily agreed. Dean used every opportunity to tell the man how whipped he was, but in truth… it was really nice to see the guy so happy and content.

When he reached the section that had been cleaned up the previous day, Dean settled into a wide stance and dug his toes into the ground. The power from the earth that surrounded him pulsed up through his legs and he grinned. Slowly and methodically he pulled one old wreckage after the other before him, and crunched, squished and compressed them until there was nothing left but particles dancing in the sunlight.

After about an hour, there was a flutter of wings and a displacement of air before the warmth of another body settled against his back. He couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face.

“Hey, Cas. Anything interesting on the west coast?”

The angel grunted a non-committal noise before nuzzling his nose behind Dean’s ear and kissing at the sun-warmed skin of his neck.

“Nothing pressing. The matter does not seem to require outside involvement.”

Dean hummed under his breath and relaxed back into the angel, allowing Cas to hold his full weight as he continued to concentrate on destroying rusted metal and cracked leather. For his part, Castiel just carried on kissing along Dean’s neck and wrapped his arms tightly around his middle. Dean tilted his head to allow better access, but didn’t break his focus from the task at hand.

Since their original bout of sexy times, Dean had discovered two fundamental truths about his nerdy accountant angel. First… de-virginizing Cas had made the sexy bastard horny as hell all…the… time. Not that Dean minded that very much. And second… Cas really, really liked to be in charge of their physical relationship. And Dean minded that even less.

A chorus of wings and a couple very put-upon sighs interrupted the peaceful moment before it could stray into anything a little more risqué. Gabriel’s voice was a high-pitched falsetto that sent spikes of annoyance straight down to Dean’s toes.

“Can Mommy and Daddy please keep it G rated outside of boudoir? My sensitive capabilities cannot handle such a display.”

Cas gave a disgruntled gust of breath against Dean’s neck before taking a step back. He moved to stand by his brother angels, who only smirked at him in response. Balthazar cleared his throat softly before he begun to pick at his fingernails in what he most likely presumed was elegant indifference.

“Shall we report our findings, mon Capitan?”

Dean waved a dismissive hand in their general direction.

“Nah. Cas said no big … so … no big.”

Balthazar snorted once before disappearing in a flurry of disdain. Gabriel remained a minute more to cackle at his brother’s exit, before patting Castiel on the shoulder and buggering off to parts unknown. Dean didn’t pay much mind to where they headed, they always came back around when he needed them, and he knew they were keeping out of trouble for the most part. (As long as he ignored Balthazar’s sexual … proclivities, and Gabriel’s tendency to find some poor schmuck to annoy the hell out of when he was bored.)

Good kids… really.

“Where’s Sammy?”

Cas shrugged awkwardly (he was still learning that particular gesture) and made a vague motion towards their cabin.

“He said something about refusing to miss one more episode of a television program to … ‘play angel-sitter for a pair of millennia old man-children who exist purely to make his life a living Hell.’”

Dean smirked.

“I take it you were quoting there.”

Cas grunted in affirmation and Dean’s smirk morphed into a genuine smile.

“Sammy always did take his stories very seriously.”

The angel hummed under his breath before moving forward to press against the length of Dean’s body once again.

“I missed you, Dean.”

The ex-hunter laughed softly, and then gasped when teeth began to delicately nibble on the lobe of his ear.

“You’ve been gone for less than a day, Cas.”

Gentle kitten-licks began to trace the shell of Dean’s ear as a warm hand worked its way beneath his shirt to rest low on his belly.

“I always miss you when I am away, Dean.”

When the angel behind him followed that statement with a grind of his hips against Dean’s ass … he gave up on work for the time being.

“Fuck it. Bedroom. Now.”

Castiel’s grin was nearly blinding and he transported them in an instant.

~*~

Dean drifted back into consciousness to the soft press of lips along his shoulder blades. Cas was still sprawled across his back, a heavy comforting weight, in practically the same position they had dozed off in. Fingertips trailed his naked side and caused the ex-hunter to snort out a giggle. The angel above him responded with a content hum.

“Did you vaporize the sheets again this morning, Dean?”

Drat. Caught.

“Maybe?”

Castiel only huffed in a fond sort of amusement before resting his cheek firmly against the human’s back.

“This is the twelfth set.”

Dean grunted before he burrowed his face further into the pillow. There was a pleasant burn and ache of emptiness in his ass that always left him feeling a bit unsettled. As if Cas had given him part of himself, only to rip it back out again. As much as he enjoyed their rampant sex life… that hollow feeling usually left him a tad morose. (Not that he would ever fucking tell anybody about that, Christ… what an epic fucking chick flick moment that would be. He was not Kate Hudson, dammit.)

“Then tell them to stop holding me ransom.”

The angel didn’t respond, only pulled his body up and away, leaving Dean feeling cold and slightly weightless. When he finally managed to roll himself over onto his back, Cas was returning (gloriously naked) from their en-suite bathroom with a damp cloth in his hands. (The en-suite had been demanded as necessary from their housemates after one too many embarrassing encounters involving exposed junk and unprotected eyes.) Dean smirked when the angel kneeled on the bed, and hooked his legs immediately around Cas’ hips. The one point that his angel never seemed to bend on, was that he would clean Dean up after every single bout of sex. As if it was a mandatory step in the rules of nookie.

Step 1: Open bottom thoroughly. (see addendum: Lube, and lots of it!)
Step 2: Fuck bottom thoroughly.
Step 3: Clean bottom thoroughly.

Dean was pretty sure Cas had a bullet list somewhere. At least. At most there was a PowerPoint presentation that Sammy possibly had a hand in creating, and therefore Dean did. Not. Want. To. Know.

A warm swipe of cloth against a very sensitive spot had Dean sucking in a breath. Cas paused to shift his gaze to the human’s. The furrow of his eyebrows softened and his electric blue eyes warmed almost instantly. In his head Dean was smacking his face against a proverbial wall for describing the angel’s eyes as electric… but low in his belly there was a spreading flutter of fucking feelings that were making a valiant effort to swim the moat around his chest. Dean beat them back with a NOPE of epic defiance.

He loved Cas. He knew he did, and Cas knew it, too. But Dean Winchester was just not meant to be a gooey love bug of affections and emotion. He wasn’t sure if he had it in him. Sammy was the exception. But then … wasn’t Sammy always the exception?

Cas finished and pulled away to toss the dirty rag into the hamper and procure a couple clean pairs of sweatpants from the basket of folded laundry. After pulling a soft gray pair on himself, the angel tugged Dean’s favorite black sweats up onto his legs and pulled the ex-hunter’s feet through. Dean raised his hips off the bed obligingly, and allowed his angel to work the waistband up into place. Only then did Cas settle along Dean’s side and plant a warm kiss over his heart.

“Do you need to finish working in the yard?”

Dean sighed and reached up to fiddle with Cas’ sex hair.

“Yeah. Promised Bobby.”

Cas nodded before rising from the bed once again to go in search of an orange t-shirt. His favorite new color of the week was Mango. (Dean wanted to shoot himself in the face.) With one last full body stretch to appreciate that recently fucked feeling, he hefted himself off the mattress and to his feet. A simple flick of the wrist, and a white tank appeared in his hands. Castiel sighed.

“It would not hurt you to do some things for yourself, Dean.”

The younger man laughed sharply as he tugged on the shirt.

“Cas, I have been doing everything for myself since I was four years old. Allow me some fucking indulgence.”

With those words, he transported himself out of the room and back to his corner of the salvage yard. He didn’t want to start an argument about it, even though he knew instinctively, it was on the horizon. Too many people had been bringing it up, lately. Bobby, Sam, Cas … even Gabriel and Balthazar had made a couple off hand comments about ‘laying low’ or ‘keeping his cool’.

He loved them all, but seriously, fuck that shit. Chuck had told him to his face that Dean was the future of Heaven. Everything known and unknown would be in his hands one day, so damned if he wasn’t going to be prepared. He had to be strong. He had to be perfect. He had to be able to account for any variable. Any unseen threat to the world around him. He had to be ready.

The moment his feet touched down in the soft dirt of the yard, that barely there tinkling of feathers was back… and then his shoulder blades exploded in pain. He hit the ground face first and screamed into the packed earth. It felt like fire was spreading through his bones, trickling heat and horror under his skin with a blinding pressure. He could feel his angels and his family gathering around him, but couldn’t hear them over the roaring in his ears and the screams being ripped from his throat.

He twisted and writhed on the ground, knocked away any hand that tried to touch him. Ignored every voice that was calling his name to the all encompassing agony spreading through his veins. A power build up began to pulse inside of him. Doubling and tripling and quadrupling until he opened his eyes and all he could see was the blinding white light of his own grace. Desperate to relieve the pressure he reached his arm towards where he knew the stack of cars he’d been set to demolish reposed in mountains of rust. He slammed his fingers closed into a fist and a dozen vehicles vaporized into dust.

Opening his fingers and repeating the process again and again, hundreds of cars vanished into nothing under the onslaught of his power bleed. Seconds, minutes, hours later the pain and pressure began to fizzle out and with one final explosion of vehicular murder, Dean flopped to the ground, spent. When the white noise in his ears finally died down, all he could hear were his own harsh, panted breaths. The yard was virtually silent around him. It took a couple moments for him to realize that his back felt wet and cold when it had no reason to be.

He finally opened his eyes … and nearly swallowed his tongue. Giant glaciers of ice hovered above him and cast the area in muted blue shadows. It took a second to register before he slowly turned his head to the side and was face to face with … snow. Blankets and blankets of it…as far as he could see.

What. The fuck.

Dean pushed himself gingerly into a seated position and gaped at the landscape around him. He had no idea where the hell he was. The blinding whites and blues of snow and ice that surrounded him damn near looked… picturesque. (He had a fleeting thought about dancing penguins and Hugh Jackman before the cold finally set in.)

“Shit!”

The ex-hunter hopped to his feet and promptly did a three-hundred and sixty degree spin. Where was he? The fucking Arctic Circle? There was nothing to see for miles that wasn’t some version of accumulated frozen water. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself and danced from foot to foot awkwardly.

Cold. Cold. Fucking cold.

Reaching with his senses as far as he could manage, he only barely felt the presence of his angels flicking frantically around the globe trying to find him. He sent out the strongest pulse he could muster, and almost instantly, three beings popped into existence directly in front of him.

“DEAN!”

Castiel launched himself at him with desperation. Hands groping, grabbing and grasping at every bit he could reach. Balthazar and Gabriel were hunched over and panting as if they’d just finished Heaven’s longest globe-trekking marathon.

“Bloody hell, you ass! How the fuck did you end up here!?”

Dean shook his head in confusion.

“I dunno. I was in the yard and then … I … wasn‘t.”

Gabriel groaned and stretched his back a little over-zealously.

“No shit, boss. One minute you were atomizing the salvage yard and the next you were gone.”

Dean nodded and tried to rub some warmth into his arms around Cas’ bad-touch flailing. His angel finally stilled enough to firmly clasp Dean’s face between his hands and plant a chaste kiss on his lips.

“Are you alright? Are you injured?”

The ex-hunter shook his head, in so much as he could snagged in the iron fists of his terrified-angel-life-partner.

“I’m good. I’m fine. Didn’t come here on purpose. Was just trying to bleed off a big ass power build up … didn’t expect to wake up on the set of Happy Feet.”

Cas tilted his head, obviously missing the reference, but quickly seemed to realize now might not be the best time to get into pop culture.

“We need to get you home. Sam and Bobby were in great distress.”

“Yeah I be-,”

The next instant he was standing in the middle of their living room and two voices were screaming his name. Castiel barely had time to get out of the way before Sam slammed into him and commenced round two of bad-touch flailing. Dean sighed and reached up to tug on his little brother’s ear.

“M’okay, Sammy. Don’t know what happened… but I’m alright.”

Sam’s laugh was pitched a little high and hysterical.

“Dean, first you were screaming like bloody murder, then you were glowing and pulverizing cars, and then you were just gone. I’m not sure alright covers it.”

The elder brother shrugged his shoulders before shuffling over to collapse onto one of the giant leather couches.

“Yeah, I dunno Sammy. Near as I can explain, it was kinda like a power surge. Just came at me all at once. I’m used to the small increments of power siphoning in, but this was more like being water-boarded with it.”

Castiel was suddenly crowded up into his space on the couch.

“What do you mean power siphoning in? You haven’t told me about this.”

The human blinked his eyes in confusion a couple times at his angel.

“I’m pretty sure I did, Cas.”

Sam shook his head in denial before plopping down on the arm of the couch.

“No, I’m pretty sure you didn’t, Dean. I think we would have remembered a conversation about your power increasing exponentially.”

Dean furrowed his brows in honest bewilderment.

“I told y’all that Chuck had assigned me as his replacement. You were all right there.”

Cas’ head did its famous ‘please explain’ tilt and Dean groaned.

“I’m taking over for God, guys, hellooooo? You‘ve known about this for months.”

Gabriel suddenly snapped his fingers and pointed in Dean’s direction.

“Daddy-o is slowly transferring his power unto you. For when you take over. He’s … well and truly retiring.”

Dean allowed his head to fall back against the cushions of the couch. Finally someone around here was paying attention to the shit that had been spewing out of Dean’s mouth for ages. Every time they questioned him using the grace too frequently, or too garishly. Every time he tried to explain that he needed the practice. What the fuck did they think was going on? Give Gabriel a cookie.

In fact.

With a careless flick of Dean’s wrist, a giant chocolate chip cookie appeared in Gabriel’s hands. The elder angel smirked deviously at him for a second, before he began devouring the confection. Dean himself was stunned stupid for a moment on the fact that it actually worked this time. Go him. He rules.

“How does it make you feel?”

Dean blinked and turned to meet Castiel’s worried gaze.

“Feel?”

Cas nodded. Dean blinked again.

“Summoning a cookie?”

Gabriel snorted around a mouthful of crumbs while Cas did his best impersonation of Sammy bitchface # 12. Sam himself may have possibly face-palmed at Dean’s side, but screw them, he’d just successfully summoned an actual whole cookie… and it was awesome. Maybe he would try pie next. Hmmm.

“The power transfer… how are you … handling it?”

Dean aborted the thoughts of pie (piiiiiiiiieeee…) and pursed his lips with a shrug.

“It’s not so bad. Like I said, it’s been slow, barely noticeable. Today’s bitch slap was a first time deal. I didn’t get any warning. All I know is that I was transporting myself out to the yard and when I landed I thought I heard wings … then there was nothing but pain.”

Gabriel perked up from behind his cookie.

“You thought you heard the sound of wings?”

A strange glace was shared between the archangel and Balthazar that made Dean a little nervous.

“Yeeeeeah … but none of you were around, right?”

Balthazar harrumphed under his breath before taking a step towards the couch.

“Can you build up your power right now? Increase it… but keep it contained?”

The ex-hunter squinted his eyes at the angel before nodding. Balthazar gave a flourish of a hand motion to get on with it, so Dean closed his eyes and focused on pulling power from the world around him and inside him. It built and built in his system until his nerves felt as tight as guitar strings. When he opened his eyes the world was washed in the white glow of his grace. Balthazar and Gabriel were crowded up close to him with wide eyes. The taller angel’s lips were moving, but Dean heard the words more inside his head, than with his ears.

“Can you feel a funny little pull between your shoulder blades? Like something wants to be set free?”

Dean concentrated on picking apart each feeling currently coursing through his body, and there was indeed a strange little tug on his upper back. He nodded at Balthazar, and damned if the angel’s eyes didn’t sort of twinkle with something neighboring on glee.

“Release that pull. Let it do what it wants to do.”

It seemed kind of stupid and simple, but Dean figured… what the hell. So he snipped that tiny tugging sensation… and immediately power burst from his back. It was all focused on his shoulder blades, but this time there was no pain. Only the sensation of something massive and bright surging out from his body. The angels around him all gasped and jumped back, but the humans looked completely confused. Dean blinked and rolled his shoulders. A heavy weight responded to the movement, and a rustling of feathers filled the room. Curious, he glanced over his right shoulder.

“HOLY SHIT!”

When he jerked and spun sideways, the two massive wings he could see spun with him and knocked Castiel right off of the couch. Dean jumped to his feet and glanced over his left shoulder. There were two more massive wings spread out straight from his back. Just as with the other side, the upper most wing was a bright, pearlescent white… while the bottom wing was a shimmering blue-black.

“WHAT THE FUCK!?”

He spun in a quick circle, as if he could get a better look at them, but it only resulted in Balthazar and Gabriel being flicked across the room. Dean yelped and turned back the other way, where the unfortunate Cas was caught broad-sided and flung right over the couch. Curiously, Sam and Bobby were unaffected. The wings just seemed to pass right through them. Dean screeched out a (very manly) noise when some of the feathers came to a halt and appeared to be cutting straight through Sam’s head.

Dean jumped back and twisted, felt the wings spread open wide behind him … just in time to catch Balthazar in the face and send him crashing to the floor.

“Oh, bloody hell!”

Something gently tried to snag one of the bottom wings and the electric shock of sensation sang through him. Dean flung himself sideways, which apparently ripped him out of the hold Cas was attempting to gain on him, and simultaneously sent one of the giant white wings slamming into Gabriel’s gut.

“Dammit, Deano!”

“I’m sorry!”

He spun himself around again. He was feeling dizzy, and out of sorts, and way too fucking claustrophobic at the moment. Not to mention, you know, he apparently had two giant fuck-off sets of wings on his back!

“Dean! Please calm down!”

He turned quickly to face Sam, but the wings moved with him and knocked Cas’ feet right out from under him.

“Cas! I’m sorry!”

When he turned to help Cas, the wings shifted the opposite way and smacked straight back into Balthazar and Gabriel. When he turned to check on them, the wings swept Cas right back to the floor again. A steady thrum of panic was welling in his chest, and for the first time in months, Dean felt like he was falling off an unsteady ledge.

“Dammit!”
“You bloody sod!”
“Dean, please-”
“WOULD YOU STOP MOVING YOU DAMN IDJIT!”

Dean immediately froze, and all four wings dropped dejectedly towards the floor. He was panting harsh breaths through his mouth and could feel his hands shaking with nerves. In response to his mood, the wings were trembling behind him. Soft tinkling of noise as the feathers brushed against each other. He was too unsteady on his feet, so allowed himself to sink to his knees. When he finally glanced up, the three angels were in complete disarray, with hair and clothes askew. Bent over and wide-eyed and … covered in black and white down.

A hysterical giggle erupted out of Dean’s throat before he could stop it. He could only imagine the state he himself must be in. It must have been pretty worrying, because the next second Castiel was crashing to his knees before Dean and gathering him close in his arms. Dean instantly responded by burrowing his face into his lover’s neck and wrapping his own arms tightly around the angel. Cas was making soothing, soft sounds into his hair while Dean tried to get a hold of himself.

“It’s okay, Dean. It’s okay. They are just wings. Only wings. They are a part of you. We should have been expecting this, I apologize… I just didn’t think.”

He could feel himself shaking in the angel’s embrace, but couldn’t force his own body to still. Sam was frantically trying to get someone to explain what just happened, and Gabriel was trying to comply, but Dean was tuning out the conversation. Only wincing when he heard his brother screech out the word ‘WINGS!?’ shortly before collapsing back on the couch. The weight on his back shifted just before the room grew darker and Cas gasped softly. When Dean slit his eyes open he could understand why. He had apparently, unconsciously, brought his wings up around them, folding them over and around their kneeling bodies. The room had disappeared behind a wall of feathers. Just he and Cas remained.

Huh. It’s like a wing teepee.

He snorted softly at his own thought before sniffing once and pulling back from Castiel. The angel’s gaze was intense and worried when it locked with Dean’s.

“Are you alright?”

Dean nodded his answer before bringing his hands up to softly tug at his own hair.

“Fuck, Cas. Wings? Seriously?”

Castiel squinted his eyes slightly and pursed his lips in thought.

“With your power manifesting and steadily growing, as you said, I suppose we really should have expected this to happen sooner. The stronger you become… the more heavenly attributes are likely to appear.”

Dean sighed as he allowed his forehead to thunk down onto the angel’s shoulder.

“Please tell me my junk’s not gonna disappear.”

For his part, Cas grunted softly in his usual attempt at a chuckle. A warm hand came to rest at the back of Dean’s neck as the angel placed a gentle kiss to the side of the ex-hunter’s head.

“You are still human. I highly doubt that would happen… but if it did, I would definitely be taking it up with the Father.”

Dean snorted.

“Like my junk where it is, Cas?”

Castiel smiled, lips still pressed into Dean’s skin.

“I very much do.”

The elder Winchester snorted before leaning back and away. He had to concentrate fully on forcing his wings out of their tented position and behind him. The sight he was greeted with was pretty fucking comical. Sam, Bobby, Gabriel and Balthazar were all seated on one couch, staring wide-eyed at them. Well, Sam and Bobby more wide-eyed than the angels, but that was probably because Gabe appeared to be touching them both on the temple with his fingers so the lowly humans could see Dean’s new angelic show-stoppers. Dean heaved a heavy sigh before giving his brother a small smile.

“What do you think, Sammy? Are they my color?”

The younger man blinked a couple times before he seemed to shake himself out of a stupor.

“Jesus, Dean … wings? Really?”

Dean flung out his arms dramatically, and the wings copied the action without his permission.

“I know right? That’s what I said!”

Sam sighed before he leaned back to rub at his temples.

“I’m assuming manifestation of power? A big pulse all at once needed some form of outlet… so … wings.”

Gabriel grinned and scooted closer to Sam on the couch.

“Got it in one. Who’s the smartest Winchester? Who is, precious?”

When the baby-talk started, Sam visibly flinched back and shot the angel the strangest look of consideration that Dean had ever seen cross his little brother’s face. It made him pause and think for a second. It also made him consider the last several weeks. Gabe had been getting progressively clingier with Sam. Following him around and bugging him incessantly. Like a fly on shit.

At first Dean had just figured the shorter angel had enjoyed pissing off the human previously known as Lucifer’s meat suit … but now… if he didn’t know better… Dean would swear it looked an awful lot like pigtail pulling. He smirked.

“Huh.”

Sam’s gaze swiveled to meet his, but Dean only grinned at his questioning look. Let the little brother figure it out for himself. Having an angel after a piece of your tail was definitely an interesting experience. Who was Dean to spoil the fun for Sam? If he could get away with it, he might have cackled maniacally at the thought. Instead, he just swished a dismissive hand in Sam’s direction and slowly maneuvered himself to his feet. Cas had to help him balance a little, what with the massive weight now attached to his shoulders, but they stood up fairly gracefully.

“And what does the almighty Chuck have to say about this power bleed?”

Dean turned to face Bobby. He shrugged his shoulders and the wings copied the motion again. He turned to eye them suspiciously for a second before answering.

“Nothing. I haven’t spoken with him in weeks.”

Balthazar perked up.

“Weeks? I thought you were having regular checkups?”

The elder Winchester nodded.

“We were, but then he said something important had come up that he had to deal with and I haven’t heard from him since.”

Gabriel finished batting his eyelashes at Sam, much to the younger man’s relief, and finally clued back in to the conversation.

“He didn’t say what it was?”

Dean shook his head and Gabe hopped to his feet.

“So he says something big is going on, disappears, and then you have a random power surge that you almost couldn’t handle? That couldn’t be a coincidence.”

Balthazar sighed dramatically before sharing a glance with the arch-angel.

“Permission to storm the castle, sire?”

Dean nodded but the two elder angels were already gone. Castiel was fidgeting in front of him when Dean finally turned his attention back to him. The angel’s gaze kept flicking to Dean’s wings and back, and unless he was mistaken, there was a faint blush of pink across the other man’s cheeks. Huh. Apparently wing kink was a check for his angelic life partner. Saving that bit of information for later. Yup.

“Cas? Am I stuck like this? Or can I get them to go away?”

Castiel blinked at him for a second before nodding.

“Yes. They can be stored away when necessary. I can teach you.”

CHAPTER TWO

DCBB - Death Comes for Mr. Winchester. - MASTERPOST

bunnymaccool — Sun, 13 Oct 2013 04:40:40 GMT

Title: Death Comes for Mr. Winchester. (Or just, perhaps, for a really excellent slice of pie.)
Author: bunnymaccool
Artist: weekendship
Art link: Art Masterpost
Fandom/Genre: Supernatural / Season 6 AU - drama,humor,romance
Pairing(s): Dean/Cas, Sam/Gabriel pre-slash
Rating: NC-17 - for language and sexual situations
Word Count: 20,200
Warnings: fighting, violence, sex, a little angst, a snippet of wing!kink

Authors Notes: This story is the third in a series from the previous two year's DCBB's ... that you can find here ------> Are You There, Dean Winchester? It's Me ... God. and here Dean Winchester's Home for Wayward Angels You can probably still read this years without the previous two years... I think.

BIG thank you to my ALWAYS AMAZING Beta mainegirlwrites!! Also to my DCBB artist weekendship, whose art is just absolutely STUNNING!!! Lastly of course, thank you to the fabulous Mods at deancasbigbang for putting this party on. You ROCK!! <3

Summary: SEASON 6 AU - Dean was pretty used to weird shit happening to him by now. Really, after you've been used as a weapon for God, saved the world, died, come back and then been told by the Almighty himself that the future of Heaven is in your hands ... what can really surprise you anymore? Okay, so ... maybe the two massive sets of wings he's recently acquired shocked him a bit. And early morning visits from the horseman of Death can be a tad off-putting. He really didn't foresee the Gabriel lusting after Sammy issue before it smacked him in the face, either. Then of course, Crowley suddenly being able to control Death's reapers kinda sucks, as does his perpetual boner for trying to snuff Dean from existence. So yeah. Basically he's pretty screwed. Although visiting the Texas State Fair was fun. (Even if it was in 1982. And he was with Death.) But hey, the corn-dogs were freaking delicious, so ... bonus!!!

CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR

~*~Also posted at AO3 HERE!~*~

I made a thing .... for reasons.... >:3

bunnymaccool — Thu, 25 Jul 2013 04:17:34 GMT

Signed up for TWO Big Bangs this summer!!! 8D ...... is excited

bunnymaccool — Sun, 02 Jun 2013 01:57:21 GMT

The Teen Wolf Big Bang dedicated solely to the pairing of Derek/Stiles!

Writer and Artist Sign-up begins June 1.

Don't miss out on the fun! Join and/or watch sterek_big_bang today!

TEEN WOLF - MPREG BIG BANG - A Legend of a Lonely Boy - Master Post

bunnymaccool — Sat, 23 Feb 2013 02:28:14 GMT

Title: A Legend of a Lonely Boy
Artist: qafmaniac
Artwork Masterpost: HERE!!!
Fandom: TEEN WOLF
Word Count: 43,000
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, minor Peter Hale/Derek Hale (non-con)
Warnings sexual context, brief non-con of an incestuous nature, strong language, character death (minor)
Summary: (Season 2 AU beginning with 2x09 - no Alpha pack) - Peter Hale managed to climb his way back up from death only long enough to do one, terrible, horrible thing. It was enough to accomplish his goal. To leave a legacy. Two months after killing his uncle for the second time, Derek is feeling sick and weak, heavy in his own body. What Deaton is telling him should be impossible... but...

There is a werewolf legend. About unmated alpha who desperately desired to have heirs, so he studied the moon and the stars in such great depth that he discovered a secret. On the night of the full moon, when the stars aligned just so … he could plant his pups into whatever body he desired. Regardless of species, regardless of gender. The alpha wolf inside him was so strong it would create a womb of it’s own inside it’s partner, to bear the pups.

The danger is this ... werewolves are not meant to carry pups alone. They need someone to guide them, love them, protect them during this time of vulnerability. A partner. A mate. But Derek Hale has none of these things. He has no one. He cannot trust another werewolf. He cannot trust his own pack. If he and his pup are going to survive, he may just have to follow the ridiculous suggestion Deaton puts forth. The completely annoying, loud-mouthed, pain in his ass suggestion that makes Derek want to rip someone's throat out. With his teeth.

PART ONE ~ PART TWO ~ PART THREE ~ PART FOUR ~ PART FIVE ~ PART SIX

~*~ AO3 link is HERE!!~*~

AUTHOR'S NOTES Written for the mpregbigbang and also my VERY FIRST TEEN WOLF FIC!!! 8D I had a LOVELY time! Thank you SO much to my cheerleader kay_cricketed, my fabulous artist qafmaniac (PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE go check out her awesome artwork in the link above!!!) and my lovely beta mirror_mirrin!!! You are all wonderful, gorgeous human beings!!! <3

Hi y'all!

bunnymaccool — Thu, 17 Jan 2013 03:31:20 GMT

Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeah... I know I don't really do much posting besides fics here any more. >_>;;; So I'm pretty sure nobody really reads these little babies any more... but I wanted to talk anyway. XD

First off, I'm currently writing my first ever TEEN WOLF story for the mpregbigbang right now. Meh hehehehe... >8D I have a weakness for mpreg. I can't help it. And there aren't enough preggie Derek stories for my needs... so I decided to write one. Forgive me. LOL

Second... while I'm furiously trying to get the above BB done on time... my brain has decided to inform me that it wishes to write a Teen Wolf/Supernatural zombie apocalypse crossover. WTF muse? Where did THIS come from? O_o? Would it be doable? Would people even WANT to read it? WHY? B-b-b-but then I could write Dean and Stiles snarking at each other! <3 And Derek being super!stoic while crazy!Cas pokes him with a stick! <3 <3 And maybe Sam being freaked out by Peter's creepy!flirting! <3 <3 <3

OH THE POSSIBILITIES!!! 8D 8D 8D

Bad muse... bad...

Must
To
Finish
Mpreg
First...

DCBB - Dean Winchester's Home for Wayward Angels - CHAPTER 4

bunnymaccool — Sun, 11 Nov 2012 23:25:48 GMT

CHAPTER FOUR

It continued that way for the next three days. The angels would go out and stop an attack on one town, and the next thing they knew, there would be a new attack with new demons closer to the salvage yard than the last had been. In each town the demons would heckle his angels about their Godling and demand to see him. Sam would sneak through where he could and try to catch snippets of conversation here and there, but it wasn’t really providing anything substantial.

No one had questioned him about Crowley again, but Dean could sense Castiel’s disappointment with him. He would come to bed and manage to stay half a meter away from Dean at all times. Then he would be gone before Dean even woke up in the morning. He could tell everyone was upset with him, even Bobby after Sam had gone and tattled to him. It was starting to wear him down.

The most recent demon attack was only thirty miles away from the yard. It had been significantly more vicious right from the onset, and even Bobby and Sheriff Mills had gone to help out, calling in as many hunters as they could muster. So Dean was sitting on his front porch. Alone. Feeling the epic battle rage not that far away. For him. Because of him.

He was on his fifth beer.

He was pissed off.

An oily grease-slick prodded at him from the opposite direction of the battle and he froze, lip of the bottle hovering near his mouth. That was Crowley, he would bet money on it. It wasn’t a battle, or an army. It was a jaunty little ‘yoo-hoo I’m over here’. Dean took another swallow of his beer and tried to ignore it, but then the prod was back again. This time with an echo of ‘are you too cowardly to come by yourself’ mixed in.

Dean dropped the half full bottle to the ground and spat in disgust. So this was the plan all along. Keep all of his allies busy, and then poke his pride until Dean ventured out of safety by himself to meet with the demon. And fuck it if it wasn’t working. He was so frustrated and pissed off by the last several days; it would be nice to finally find out just what the hell the bastard wanted, anyway.

He stood up and stomped his way into this house and up to his bedroom. He had been lounging in sweats and a tank top, but he quickly traded them out for some jeans and a faded black t-shirt. Sam had taken Ruby’s old knife, and Dean didn’t really have anything else to kill a demon with, so he shrugged and figured he would go unarmed. Why the Hell not? He’d protected himself from Crowley before. When he reached for his boots in the corner, Dean paused. He found himself staring at the spot next to them were Castiel always left his hideous orange sneakers. Taking a deep breath, Dean stood without retrieving his shoes. He had taken to going around barefoot most days now. Feeling the power of the earth snake up through his toes to remind him it was there.

Right.

The not-so-friendly prod of demon stank hit him again when he exited the house and stood in the middle of the salvage yard. He ignored it in favor of sending a little pulse of power to his angels. A silent question on the state of things. Balthazar slapped him away in irritation, but confirmed that he was fine. Gabriel poked him right back with glee and showed him a flash of the arch-angel protecting Bobby and Mills. Castiel ignored him until Dean poked a little harder. His angel sent back the acknowledgement that he was fine, but busy at the moment keeping Sam from getting himself killed. Dean sent a light little ‘welcome to my world’ back, but wasn’t answered.

Finally, Dean disengaged from his angels and turned back to the grease-stain that was Crowley. He could tell the demon wasn’t too far, maybe ten miles away. Dean took a deep breath and concentrated. If he could do all these other things, there was nothing to say he could zip over there instantly like the angels. He had done it once before, when he had followed Balthazar’s path back to the cabin after Chuck had remade him.

Focusing on the nasty sensation that was Crowley, Dean closed his eyes and imagined himself following the line that lead him towards the demon.

“Well, well, well … someone’s learning some new tricks, aren’t they?”

Dean opened his eyes quickly and found himself at a broken down crossroads, asphalt long ago washed away and no standing buildings for miles. Crowley stood in the middle with his hands clasped behind his back and a smug grin on his face.

“Hello, darling.”

Dean took a step to the side and tried not to grimace as the gravel bit into his bare feet.

“So what’s all this about, Crowley? Why all the attacks? What are you even trying to accomplish here?”

The demon smirked.

“Accomplish? Sweetheart, you wound me … I just wanted you to come out and play for a bit … but you kept ignoring me. Breaks a girl’s heart.”

Dean laughed without humor before folding his arms over his chest.

“Play? Why would I want to play with you?”

Crowley tsked dramatically and moved to start circling Dean, who reacted by turning in place to keep the demon within his sights at all times.

“Come now, my love. To prepare for our bright future, of course. A warm up act, if you will … for the new King of Hell and the soon to be new King of Heaven.”

Dean’s arms fell away limply in shock. Crowley cackled at him.

“Don’t tell me you never guessed what was going on here, Dean. You didn’t honestly think that Daddy Dearest would just give you powers and angels and let you run free forever, did you?”

Suddenly a barrage of rocks flung themselves from the ground towards Dean’s face. Instantly, Dean swiped his left arm to the side and the rocks seemed to ricochet off nothing and fall in the opposite direction.

“You’re fucking with me, Crowley, and I don’t appreciate it.”

A tree limb nearby snapped from its branch and launched itself towards Dean’s chest like a spear. Dean gripped his hands into fists and the branch exploded into sawdust and drifted away on the breeze.

“I’m deadly serious, pumpkin. The Creator left Heaven ages ago, with no intention to return … and yet suddenly he shows back up again to set everything back to rights? It’s fairly obvious what he’s doing.”

A gale of wind burst forth from nowhere and tried to knock Dean off of his feet. With a flick of his head it turned to a gentle puff and dissipated.

“What what would that be?”

A giant boulder jumped into the air from the side of the road and dove straight for Dean’s head. Without a single movement, he stopped it in midair and let it hang ominously above them.

“Why … he’s preparing the school for a new principal, of course.”

Without warning, a dozen demons sprang up from nowhere to circle them at the edges of the crossroads.

“And so … I am here to establish our relationship right away. The light and the dark. It’s Yin and Yang, Dean darling … but I just wanted to make sure you understood something.”

Dean flung the boulder at two of the demons standing by and grinned when they yelped and dove for cover.

“Well, get it over with, then.”

Crowley smiled wide and deep as he took a step back.

“That I will not bow down to you. You will let me do my business and you will stay out of my hair. I wouldn’t want to destroy daddy’s pet project before you ever get the chance to claim your throne.”

Dean laughed.

“You want me to leave you alone? Fat chance, you dick, you just insured yourself that I will do everything I can to make your life fucking miserable.”

Crowley continued to step away, as a dozen more demons appeared and slowly began to walk towards Dean.

“Such a shame then, love … guess we’ll just have to kill you now. I will so miss our little get-togethers.”

The two closest demons to Dean launched themselves at him. He feinted to the left, punched the first one hard in the gut, and brought his hand up to smack his palm dead center on the other’s forehead. Trusting his powers to know what to do, he was rewarded with a brilliant flash of white as the demon was exorcised and the vessel fell unconscious to the ground. With a roar of anger, the rest of the demons attacked.

He was holding his own pretty well. They kept crowding him in, and he would take a punch or kick here and there, but he was still managing to exorcise two for every three that attacked him. Dozens and dozens kept appearing from thin air, and all the while Crowley was sitting nonchalantly on top of the boulder that Dean had thrown before. It was a fucking demon swarm, and Dean wondered if that meant the attack on the town had been called off.

Trying to keep his concentration on the battle at hand, Dean sent a pulse off to his angels. He could sense that they were still occupied with the demons in the town, but it seemed to be winding down. There was a spike of adrenalin from all three, and he guessed they could sense the gathering storm of demons nearby to where they thought Dean was safe in the salvage yard.

A particularly large demon got a hard crack of a punch right into Dean’s ribs and he cried out in pain. He could feel his power build in response to the stimuli and let it explode out in a giant sweep of white light. The demons were flung back all around him and skidded outward to the edges of the crossroads. Dean gasped and dropped down to his knees.

There was a frantic call from his angels in his mind, Cas’ the most anxious. They couldn’t find him. Crowley must have blocked the crossroads from their sight, and they had returned to the house to find Dean gone. The demons around him began to pick themselves back up and gather round. There had to be near a hundred now, not even counting the ones he had already taken care of. In the moment of calm Dean tried to transport himself back to the yard … but he was stuck. Crowley appeared to have taken care of that, too.

Dean growled deep in his throat and struggled up to his feet. Cas was frantically pawing at his mind, so Dean responded with a simple ‘love you, love you, love you, Cas’ which seemed to set the angel even more to fits.

Ah well… if I manage to get out of this, I’ll make it up to him.

Crowley cleared his throat and the demons all froze.

“Last chance, Dean, sweetheart. You just have to concede.”

Dean spit some blood onto the ground and sneered at the pompous asshole.

“Fuck you, Crowley.”

The King of Hell shrugged and sighed dramatically.

“Oh well… I tried. Kill him. Make it … messy.”

The demons surged forward again and Dean centered himself. As his body moved from years of ingrained reflexes, his mind was tumbling at a thousand miles per hour. He had to think. He had to think. His angels couldn’t get to him, and he couldn’t leave. Surely, if Chuck was really preparing him to take over … the little shit would have come to rescue him already, wouldn’t he? Unless.

Unless he knew that Dean had the power to do it himself.

He gritted his teeth as one of the demons got a lucky hit to the side of his head. He could feel the skin split and begin to bleed down his face. Well… that just pissed him off. Dean raised one foot off the ground, and calling to whatever source his power emanated from, he stomped it down hard in the middle of the crossroads. There was a resounding BOOM as the ground around him rippled out like water, sending demons flying everywhere and knocking a stunned Crowley off his perch.

Dean opened his mouth to scream out in anger, but instead a deafening roar split the air with enough force to bend back the trees at the edges of the road. Several demons screeched in pain and covered their ears before evacuating their vessels in a blast of black smoke. Crowley blinked at him once before he smirked and vanished into the night.

There were still dozens of demons around him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt his angels get a lock on him from the burst of power. He felt them arrive with Sam and Bobby in tow. But he was still so angry that he couldn’t stop. Dean swiped his arm towards the demons before him and a shockwave of power knocked them all down, black clouds of smoke filling the sky as more and more attempted to escape.

He screamed his rage again and watched as the force of it blew the demons straight out of their vessels. Bright sparks of electricity were flickering around his face, but he wasn’t sure where they were coming from. Demons were escaping left and right, but Dean was staring at the asshole who had punched him in the gut earlier. It was a giant fuck of a man with skin as pale as a corpse. Dean stalked right up to the demon and smacked his palm straight onto his face. In an explosion of white light the demon was dead, and suddenly the area around him was completely silent.

Dean was taking in huge gulps of air as he spun in a circle to look at all the poor bastards scattered about the crossroads. When he turned towards the edge of the woods, he was almost surprised to find Cas and the others standing there. He had forgotten about their arrival. Five pairs of wide eyes stared at him as he took a step towards them, but then his knees buckled and he went down.

“DEAN!”

Sam skidded to a stop before him and dropped instantly to his knees. Dean released a weary sigh as his little brother’s large hands frantically searched him for injuries. Bobby followed closely behind, but the three angels were still standing at the edge of the road, looking uncomfortable.

He felt completely drained. The power was receding from his body, and little black dots were starting to float across his vision.

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Stay with me, Dean! Come on! Stay-”

But everything faded to black as he slipped forward into his brother’s arms.

~*~

There was a mumbled conversation going on around him when Dean started to flirt with consciousness. He could recognize the comfort of his own bed, and the snuffling sound of Sammy snoring right next to him. The voices of his angels were further away in the room, but he could still make out what they were saying.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Cas! You saw that as well as we did. You KNOW what that was!”

“Agreed. That was a halo, Castiel. That was a halo of the Chosen.”

“It’s not possible. Father just returned.”

“Yeah, well … apparently Daddy isn’t planning on staying.”

“He promised Dean a long life here. He promised him peace.”

“Yeah, and Pops always keeps his promises, doesn’t he, Cas?”

“There’s nothing to say he won’t have a long life here, brother. A long life for Dean would be a mere blink for our Father. There’s nothing to say he won’t keep his promise.”

“Yeah, except that he obviously didn’t tell Dean-o about the giant target now painted on his back.”

“That’s why we’re here, though, isn’t it? Take make sure he survives to claim the throne? Obviously that’s what the Father wants from us.”

“And when Dean dies? He’ll be unattainable to me. The King of Heaven cannot consort with an angel from the garrison.”

Silence answered Cas’ question and Dean felt his heart stutter and clench. Pulling from a reserve hidden deep, he sent a demand Heavenward for Chuck to meet. When he opened his eyes the room was whited-out and the smaller man was seated Indian-style in the middle of the bed. He looked guilty.

“Hi, Dean.”

Dean sat up slowly and crossed his arms.

“The truth.”

Chuck sighed and began to fiddle with the frayed edges of his house coat.

“The truth. Alright … I suppose you do deserve it. Nice job with those demons by the way.”

Dean clenched his jaw and Chuck gave him a small smile.

“The truth is … I didn’t want to come back. I never did … but it had gotten so out of control… I had to do something. When I came up with the idea of using you as the Hand of God I figured it would be a fitting way to honor you and everything you and your brother had done for me. No human had ever been chosen before, you see, so that meant your name would be written in the annuals of Heaven as something to respect and revere.

Then… when I sat there re-making you with my Grace and lamenting the fact that I had to come back to Heaven and take it all over again … I thought, But I don’t have to actually stay there. I could set everything to rights and create a clean start for someone new. Then of course came the question of who I could bequeath it to… one of the angels? That couldn’t work. You see what happened to them when I left them in charge.

So it would have to be a human. But what human did I know that not only understood how corrupted the Heavenly Host had become, but had already garnered the loyalty of three of my most stubborn children?”

Dean shifted anxiously on the white bed.

“Chuck-,”

“What human did I know that had an unfailing loyalty to his friends and family? Who was kind and just, but had enough street smarts to see past people’s bullshit. A human with a wicked sense of humor and playfulness on one hand… but a world weary soul that understood pain and suffering on the other. One that would sacrifice his own soul for his little brother. Or go up against angels… ANGELS… because he knew that what they were doing was wrong.

My goodness, I thought … I have the perfect candidate right here beneath my fingertips. And you are, Dean. You’re perfect to take my place. The Heavenly Host doesn’t need old school anymore. It needs someone to change them from their old ways and acclimate them to how the world really is now. Look at Castiel. It’s a perfect example. You are what they need. Not me.”

Having God praise so many things about your person tends to make a man a little uncomfortable.

“What about what-”

“Don’t worry about what your boys were saying.”

Chuck scooted closer and rested his hands on Dean’s shoulders.

“I wouldn’t separate you from each other. The power of your bond has saved the world… it would be a travesty, and very cruel of me, to destroy that. Castiel, along with Balthazar and Gabriel, will be your arch-angel. You're second in command. No one would dare speak against you if you … consorted with him.”

Dean released a soft chuckle before turning his gaze away from Chuck’s.

“What about… you know… I mean… in the Bible it was pretty frowned upon to want to sodomize an angel.”

He could feel his cheeks flushing as he spoke, more so when Chuck burst into laughter.

“Old school, Dean. I told you. That was old school. Time for some new ideas to be passed around.”

Dean grinned.

“Can I change the Bible to Adam and Steve?”

Chuck roared with laughter and slapped him on the shoulder.

“As fun as that would be … no. But I’m sure you’ll figure out something to do that would be just as good.”

Sensing the conversation drawing to a close, Dean sobered.

“How long do I have?”

Hopping to his feet, Chuck waved a dismissive hand at him.

“Decades yet… decades. Don’t worry about it for a while. I promise that I’ll give you a heads up, okay? And for the record… I was always planning to tell you… I just didn’t know when would be the best time.”

Dean moved off the bed to stand beside Chuck and shrugged.

“Crowley made you play your hand too soon.”

Chuck nodded.

“Yeah. Slimy little bastard. He’ll give you trouble, but I have every confidence in you and your ability to take care of him. If it gets too desperate… I’ll be there.”

Color slowly began to sink back into the world as Chuck dissolved in front of Dean’s eyes.

“Bye, Dean.”

“See ya, Chuck.”

When the world faded back into focus, Dean was standing in his room surrounded by everyone. Even Jodie was there. He blinked a couple times at the absolutely stunned face of Sam right in front of him. His brother sat there like a guppy-mouth for a few seconds before he finally got out his big boy words.

“Did … did you just say Chuck?”

Dean’s eyes widened. Whaddaya know… he DID. Usually Chuck wouldn’t let the name past his lips, even if he tried to say it out loud. Only in the white space could he address him by that handle. Looks like all current events considered… the Big Man had lightened up on his rules. Dean smirked at Sam.

“I do believe I did… didn’t I?”

Sam gaped. Bobby gaped. Castiel (as much as he could) gaped. Then Sammy screeched again.

“CHUCK? CHUCK SHURLEY?? CHUCK SHURLEY WAS GOD??? BUT HE WAS RIGHT THERE THE WHOLE TIME! WHY DIDN’T HE STOP IT? WHY DIDN’T HE-OW!”

Sam had clutched his side suddenly and Dean cackled.

“Feel like someone just jabbed you in the ribs?”

Sam’s eyes were super wide when he nodded. Dean patted him consolingly on the arm.

“Sammy… meet Chuck… again.”

He turned to face Castiel and allowed himself to just fall into the angel. Cas’ arms immediately came up to circle his waist and hug him close.

“It’s gonna be alright, Cas. It’s all gonna be okay. Promise.”

Dean could feel the angel nod against him, and he burrowed closer into that warmth.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaand it’s time for us to go. Come on, kiddos! Now that Mommy’s feeling better … Mommy and Daddy need their special happy fun times!”

As Gabriel ushered humans and angel out of the room and shut the door, Dean giggled a little deliriously into Castiel’s shoulder.

“Do you want to have happy fun times, Cas?”

The arms encircling him clenched slightly.

“I always wish to have happy fun times with you, Dean.”

Dean sighed and pulled away to stare into his angel’s gaze.

“Are you upset with me, Cas?”

The look in the angel’s eyes softened and a small smile graced his lips.

“No, Dean. I was never upset. I was just … afraid.”

“Afraid of me?”

Cas shook his head slowly.

“No. Afraid that … that if you were what Gabriel thought you were… I would not be enough for you.”

Dean reached down to grasp Castiel’s hand and tugged him towards the bed. They sat down next to each other on the edge and Dean took a deep calming breath.

“I am what Gabriel thought. I am. Chuck wants me to take over as the King of Heaven once my time on earth is done.”

The angel’s mouth dropped silently open and his gaze darted up to the empty space above the crown of Dean’s head.

“So … it was the mark of the Chosen.”

Dean pursed his lips, but fought the urge to look up above him.

“What did you see, Cas?”

Cas returned his gaze to Dean’s, eyes wide with disbelief.

“It was a halo, Dean. When you released all that power … a halo made of fire and lightening. All the Heavenly Hosts know of it. That it will appear upon the crown of God’s successor … but … there has never been a successor. Until … now.”

Dean shrugged and smirked a tiny fraction.

“What can I say, Cas? I just keep getting more and more bad-ass.”

Castiel laughed outright and it was a beautiful sound to Dean’s ears.

“That would be very presumptuous of you, Dean.”

Dean slowly stood and stripped off his shirt.

“Naw. What would be presumptuous of me would be to strip bare so you could fuck me into the mattress.”

The angel’s pupils blew wide at the words, and he was quickly on his feet as well. He stripped off his precious clothes with little care and flung them across the room. Dean laughed when Cas finished before him and started tugging at Dean’s pants to help him along. When they were both naked, Dean crawled onto the bed first, leaving his ass to Cas’ gaze as he fumbled in the drawer looking for lube.

The mattress shifted behind him a second before Castiel’s hands came to rest on his lower back, and then gently trail down across his cheeks and upper thighs. Dean hitched in a breath as he grabbed the tube he’d been looking for and then twisted around to lay on his back with Cas hovering over him. The angel slotted his body between Dean’s legs and carefully came to a rest on top of him, their hardening cocks pressing together deliciously.

Dean gulped a quick breath before spreading his legs further apart and pulling them up so that his knees were in the air and his feet were planted on the bed. It caused Cas’s weight to sink even further down onto him, and Dean groaned. This was nice. This was very, very nice. Even though they were both heavily aroused at that point, their lips met slowly without any frantic rush.

Cas licked into Dean’s mouth as he ran his hands down the angel’s back to trail along the curves of his ass. He groaned in pleasure when Cas left his mouth to nibble along his jaw and neck.

“Did the … did the gay sex book explain what you needed to do?”

Castiel hummed a positive response, but refused to remove his lips from Dean’s skin. He licked a trail down the man’s chest, passing over one nipple then the other, before dipping his tongue into Dean’s belly button. He drifted over to Dean’s hip and sucked a hickey into the cut of it. Dean could only watch him with labored breaths. This was all Cas’ call. The virgin angel apparently knew a hell of a lot more about gay sex than Dean did, and right now he didn’t even care that he had gained the knowledge on Sam’s computer or with Bobby’s reading material.

Finally, Castiel’s lips brushed the head of Dean’s cock lovingly, and then sucked him down like a pro. Dean tried not arch off the bed and choke the angel, but it had been a hell of a long time since he’d gotten any good head. He fisted his hands in the duvet beneath him, his fingers clutching the fabric with abandon. When Cas began to bob up and down Dean groaned loud and long, hoping the others had gone over to Bobby’s. Or at least turned some loud music on.

A warm hand brushed over his before rescuing the lube from his clench of death. Dean panted as he stared at the ceiling. If he looked down at Cas right now, this would be over far too quickly. There was a snap of a lid, and all too soon a slick, wet finger had found his hole and was rubbing softly over it. Dean fucking mewled at the sensation. Castiel responded with an answering growl the vibrated along Dean’s dick and almost had his eyes rolling back in his head. It did, in fact, make him completely miss the first press of a slick finger inside of him. Castiel had apparently learned the most important rule of gay sex. That even Dean knew. The more lube, the better. He could feel the sloppy mess of it coating his cheeks and dribbling down the crack of his ass … but it didn’t bother him in the slightest.

The finger pushed in further and Dean sucked in a sharp breath. It didn’t hurt, not really … not yet … but it felt like an intrusion. Something that wasn’t supposed to be there. Castiel released his cock and whispered soft supportive words against Dean’s inner thigh.

“Try to stay relaxed. Bear down on it instead of fight it. That is supposed to be very important.”

Dean couldn’t even find words to speak… so he just nodded and tried to follow Cas’ instruction. The finger finally slid in all the way to the knuckle, and Dean could feel the web of Castiel’s hand running along his rim as Cas turned his finger around inside of Dean. By this time a cold sweat had broken out on Dean’s skin, but he was starting to get the idea how this might feel good. Hell… men had been doing it for as long as they’d known what their dicks were for, right? Millions of gay dudes couldn’t be wrong.

“Another finger?”

Again, he couldn’t speak, so answered with a nod. Cas pulled out his one finger, to slide back in with two. Dean grunted at the new burn. Definitely weirder than the single finger, but if he was going to take a dick up there sometime this century… better to just get used to it quick. He forced himself to stay relaxed and bear down on the fingers. He’d been ripped apart by a fucking hellhound and been flayed alive on the rack. This was nothing.

“You are so good, Dean. You are so beautiful. I have been imagining what you would look like … like this. It has surpassed my every expectation.”

Okay, so Castiel didn’t really get the concept of dirty talk … but with the deep timbre of his voice and the husky flow of his words… he could read the fucking ingredients off a can of soup and Dean would probably come in his pants.

And then Castiel apparently located Mr. Prostate because electricity shot through Dean and he cried out and arched his back off the bed.

“Oh… I am so glad I found that.”

Dean couldn’t help but chuckle at the wonder in the angel’s voice.

“Fuck, Cas … I love you so much.”

He was answered with a sucking kiss on the crease of his leg and hip. Without warning a third finger pressed in with the other two, and Cas began to twist them inside of Dean. He could feel his rim stretching to accommodate and suddenly, Dean didn’t want fingers anymore.

“Cas… Cas… come on. I’m good.”

The angel lifted his head from the critical study of his progress. Dean chanced the glance down to meet his gaze, and fuck. Cas looked fucking amazing planted between his legs like that, pupils blown wide and a healthy flush of desire on his cheeks.

“I think you need more prep, Dean. You’ve never done this before, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

Dean shook his head and rotated his hips so that Cas’ fingers slipped further inside of him.

“I don’t care. I can’t wait any longer. Fuck, Cas. I need you.”

The angel nodded, looking a little shell-shocked, but pulled his fingers free. Dean whined at the loss of that connection, but Cas was shifting up to his knees and coating his cock with lube.

“Your first time… it is supposed to be easier on your belly.”

Dean shook his head and lifted his legs to wrap them loosely around Castiel’s hips.

“No. I want to see you.”

Looking a little unsure, Cas reached up to snag a pillow and carefully wedged it beneath Dean’s hips. Then he paused and ran a hand softly down the center of Dean’s chest to rest on against his heart.

“Are you sure?”

Dean smirked.

“Helluva time to ask, Cas.”

The angel grinned, and then pulled back his hand to guide himself to Dean’s lubed hole. The first blunt pressure of the head made Dean choke in a breath, but he forced himself to keep from clenching up, and inch by inch Castiel slid home. The pressure was intense and the burn on his rim watered his eyes. He breathed heavily through his nose as he waited for the initial pain of it to pass. Above him, Cas had clenched his eyes closed and his mouth had dropped open. Beads of sweat were forming on his brow, some already trekking down his face.

“Oh … OH, Dean… this is…”

Dean took a deep breath and tightened his legs around Cas’ hips.

“Move a little, Cas … not too much, yet.”

The angel nodded and pulled back a fraction before pressing in again. Dean sucked in some air and angled his hips a little higher.

“Try it again.”

This time he pulled out a couple inches before pushing back inside. The new angle brushed right over Dean’s prostrate and he gasped in a loud breath.

“Right there. Right there.”

Pulling out the same amount, this time Cas snapped his hips and thrust in with more force. Dean keened a high pitch noise and grasped Castiel’s forearms in a vice grip.

“OH FUCK!”

Castiel growled his agreement before setting up a steady pace of pull-snap-pull-snap and Dean could feel every inch of him. His own forgotten cock had lagged a little during the initial penetration, but now it was happily streaking his own belly with pre-come and damn near purple at the head. Cas shifted so he nearly bent Dean in half in order to press a hard kiss to his lips. Dean whimpered when Cas pulled away and started to fuck in even harder.

He couldn’t stop the sounds escaping his mouth. Dean had always been noisy during sex, but this was fucking ridiculous. Between his keening and mewling, and Cas’ growls it probably sounded like a couple wild animals fucking the shit out of each other in the room. A warm hand gripped Dean’s cock and he opened his eyes to meet Cas’. They didn’t break away from each others’ gaze, stayed laser locked on the pleasure and love flashing across the distance between them. Cas stroked Dean’s cock once, then twice … and Dean was done.

He arched dramatically off the bed and cried out his release, marking his own stomach and the back of Castiel’s hand in thick, white ropes. Aftershocks of the orgasm continued to spark through him as Cas concentrated on fucking into Dean as desperately as he could. Then the angel froze above him and gasped. The cock in Dean’s ass swelled and pulsed, come slicking the way even more as Cas continued to roll his hips slowly.

His angel looked completely fucked out. He was gorgeous. Dean decided that Cas should stay that way as much as possible.

When Cas’ hips stilled Dean allowed his legs to fall loosely around him. He could feel Cas slowly softening inside of him, but the angel made no move to pull out. Instead he was running his hands all over Dean’s body in awe. Dean grinned at him. It was entirely possible that he might have blown a couple of his angel’s fuses.

“I … I really liked that. A lot.”

Dean cackled softly. Sleep was sneaking up behind him.

“That … would be the understatement of the century, Cas.”

The angel tilted his head in confusion, but kept quiet. He finally slipped free of Dean’s body, and Dean sighed a little at the loss. That was a pretty fucking amazing way of connecting with someone you loved… inviting them into your body. He understood a little more now why women were more cautious with their lovers. If Cas hadn’t been so attentive and loving … that could have been a horrible experience.

Dean gave a full body stretch once Cas moved off the bed. His ass pulled a little uncomfortably, and his lower back twinged, but hell if it wasn’t worth it. He hadn’t paid attention to where Cas had gone, but the angel suddenly reappeared with a wet washcloth.

“Did you … just go out to the bathroom to get a washcloth?”

Castiel titled his head at him again.

“Yes? It is customary for the top to clean up the bottom. I wouldn’t want you to fall asleep dirty and uncomfortable.”

Dean blinked at him.

“The bathroom is downstairs.”

Cas nodded.

“Yes?”

Dean flung a swishy hand signal at him.

“You’re naked.”

Cas nodded.

“Yes?”

Dean sighed.

“Well … was anyone down there?”

Cas nodded.

“Yes? They were having dinner.”

Dean groaned and rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillow. Castiel took this as a go ahead for clean up, and started to gently swipe the warm cloth across his butt and thighs. Dean grumbled into the pillow.

“Did they see you?”

Cas cleaned himself up quickly and then tossed the cloth to the floor.

“Not at first, but I wanted to make sure that Sam and Bobby knew you weren’t hurt and that we both enjoyed ourselves, and that I was taking care of you properly.”

Dean groaned louder into the pillow.

“Oh god.”

Castiel laid down snug against Dean’s side and planted a soft kiss to his shoulder.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Dean flipped his head to stare into Cas’ earnest eyes and found himself smiling contentedly.

“Nah, Cas. It’s fine. You did perfect.”

The blinding smile he received in return was enough to make Dean forget about all the ribbing he would likely be getting for days to come. It would all be fine. Besides, he was the fucking Chosen … he could just electrocute them in the ass. He leaned over to place a quick kiss on his angel’s lips.

“Love you, Cas.”

Castiel smiled as he snuggled down into Dean’s body and mouthed along his shoulder.

“I love you, Dean.”

Just before Dean slipped away into unconsciousness, Cas spoke against his skin one more time. The warm breath of his words against bare skin felt almost as intimate as the act they had just shared.

“Dean … you said once… that I would need a last name… and I told you that I would think about it and let you know.”

Dean hummed a mixed sound of agreement and acknowledgement. Castiel paused for a moment before continuing.

“Can I … can I have yours?”

There was a beat of saturated silence that blanketed the room before Dean finally opened his eyes and met his angel’s steady gaze. Cas looked willful and determined… if a little unsure. Arm feeling almost too relaxed to work properly, Dean slowly brought his hand to the angel’s face and let his thumb drift slowly across Cas’ bottom lip.

“Damn straight, you can.”

Castiel’s resulting grin was blinding.

From downstairs Gabriel’s voice tumbled into the room.

“NIGHT, MOM! NIGHT, DAD! TRY TO KEEP THE ORGASMIC SCREAMING DOWN TO A MINIMUM LEVEL NEXT TIME!”

Dean closed his eyes and could see the arch-angel snickering in the kitchen, about to take a sip from a can of overly-sugared soda pop. Dean sent a little push of power towards him and the can of soda exploded all over Gabriel. Dean pulled back quickly before the angel could retaliate.

“YOU BASTARD!”

Cas huffed a laugh against his shoulder as Dean drifted off to sleep.

Yeah … this life was gonna be alright.

~*~ FIN ~*~
MASTERPOST

DCBB - Dean Winchester's Home for Wayward Angels - CHAPTER 3

bunnymaccool — Sun, 11 Nov 2012 23:23:35 GMT

CHAPTER THREE

~*~

That night, after they had moved their meager belongings, and Balthazar conceded that he may possibly spend some time in the cabin, Dean sank down into the soft mattress and sighed in contentment. He hadn’t gone into the other angel’s rooms … he didn’t want to pry, but Balthazar’s must have been pretty impressive for him to acquiesce to spending some time with the family. He was too terrified to see what was in Gabriel’s room, especially after hearing the arch-angel cackling with mad glee for half an hour that afternoon. Dean, wisely, stayed away.

Sam’s room was geeky computer researcher boy paradise. There were shelves and shelves of books, with some workout equipment thrown in, a computer monitor that was clearly compensating for something, and apparently a very impressive laptop. Sam had gotten all googly-eyed and drooly as he muttered about processing speeds and bus-something-or-others … which Dean had just tuned out and wondered if he could sneak in to watch porn on that crazy awesome screen.

Bobby and Sheriff Mills had seemed way too happy to see them go, even if it was only across the salvage yard. Dean figured they probably wanted to get their freak on. Hard to have happy-fun-times with your two pseudo sons and their pet angels in the next room, he supposed. Cas had been pretty quiet all day long, but Dean had caught him eyeing the credit card on the bedside table, and imagined his angel was fantasizing about all the orange shirts out there just waiting for him to claim them.

He snuggled down into the fluffy pillows and groaned in satisfaction.

“This bed is the awesomest thing to ever awesome, Cas.”

The angel made a soft chuffing sound that almost approximated a laugh.

“I’m serious, Cas. I love this bed. I wish to marry this bed. I will have this beds little downy babies.”

That earned an outright chuckle from the angel.

“You have an unhealthy obsession with matrimony to furniture, Dean.”

Dean grinned into the pillow and settled down for sleep. There was one thing he could say with certainty about Chuck … the man knew how to pick a good mattress. The bed dipped beside him as Cas pulled up close to his side, tucking in close and resting his head against Dean’s shoulder.

“Will you be happy here in this house, Dean? With me?”

Rolling to his side in order to face Castiel, Dean grinned.

“Of course I will, Cas. Will you?”

The angel nodded.

“You make me very happy, Dean.”

Cas hummed a pleased little sound before scooting forward to plaster himself up and down Dean’s full length. Chests, bellies, thighs … all pressed tightly together. A little hitch started in Dean’s breath as he leaned forward and offered up his mouth to Castiel. The angel accepted the offer gladly, sucking and licking at Dean’s lips with a calm patience that Dean wasn’t feeling. At all.

He could feel their stomachs and chests matching each other breath for breath, and then something decidedly … harder… rocking into him further down. It sparked all manner of sensations straight to his crotch, and little Dean decided to come say hello to little Cas. The angel groaned harshly as he thrust his tongue deeply into Dean’s waiting mouth.

Dean matched the thrusts of Cas’ tongue with the thrusts of his hips, rubbing their erections together through the thin material of their briefs. Castiel’s hands snaked down Dean’s flanks and suddenly reached around to tightly grab the globes of Dean’s ass. Cas growled low in his throat and Dean keened in response, flinging one of his legs over Cas’ to pull their bodies even closer together.

Soon, they weren’t even kissing … it was more like they were panting into each other’s open mouths as Dean sped up the thrusts of his hips and Cas used his grip on Dean’s ass to pull him through each one. The crazy sexy noises that kept falling from the angel’s lips had Dean answering him with soft whimpers and moans. Finally, Cas shifted one of his hands from Dean’s ass and trailed it down until it was skimming across their covered dicks and cupping Dean’s balls through his shorts.

Dean came like a fucking rocket. From the muffled noises he could make out… Cas followed soon after. The rocking of their hips slowed as their gasping breathes continued to move their bellies in sync. Castiel pulled back to stare into Dean’s eyes, a completely mind-blown look on his face. Dean laughed breathlessly.

“First orgasm, Cas?”

The angel nodded, then brought up a hand to trace his index finger along the edges of Dean’s swollen lips.

“Worth it?”

The blue eyes widened a fraction as Castiel nodded again in response. His finger continued to trace over Dean’s features reverently. Post-orgasm sleepiness hit Dean like a freight train and his eyes began to droop closed. Cas’ fingers brushed over them once they did before he gathered Dean close to him and settled down for sleep.

Cas’ whispered ‘I love you’ banished any thoughts of getting up to clean off. Dean would just deal with the sticky aftermath in the morning. Right now… nothing could move him.

~*~

The next sunrise found Sam and Dean sitting at their new breakfast bar nursing black coffees and silently watching as Gabriel attempted to fry some eggs. It was fairly entertaining to watch. Dean had never known that eggs could become quite that color of burnt.

“Soooo….did you have a good time last night?”

Dean’s gaze snapped up to stare at Sam in disbelief.

“Are we really going to talk about this?”

He shot a glance over to Gabriel, but the angel was too focused on a new pair of eggs. They didn’t look much better than the last pair. Sam sighed and brushed his long bangs out of his face.

“I just want you and Cas to be happy. He was worried that you didn’t want him.”

Dean groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“Sam… like I already told Cas … I do want him, I do … it’s just…”

His little brother’s face was beet red, but he was still trudging through the horrifying conversation.

“Just what?”

Dean rubbed at his face with both hands before pressing his fingers into his closed eyes and groaning.

“It’s just… bad things happen to people who want to fuck angels, right? Look at the Bible.”

Sam laughed with nervous discomfort, flicking a glance to the oblivious Gabriel … who was now trying to smack-talk the eggs into submission.

“Well… okay … so … so maybe you should … I mean … instead of … you could …”

The elder Winchester smirked evilly.

“Why, Sammy … are you trying to advise me to be the catcher and not the pitcher?”

Sam’s face went outright purple as he sputtered.

“Well, it would-that way-OH MY GOD WHY ARE YOU MAKING ME HAVE THIS CONVERSATION?”

The recognizable splat of a delicate egg meeting hard floor made them both turn towards Gabriel. The angel arched an eyebrow at them in curiosity, but then snapped his fingers to clean the mess and turned back to attempt set number three.

Dean chuckled darkly and pointed an accusing finger at his little brother.

“You started it, bitch.”

Sam muttered a ‘jerk’ under his breath before he spun back around to watch Gabriel.

Eventually Gabriel cursed and snapped his fingers, road kill eggs disappearing in a flash to be replaced by a massive spread of choices from a local fast food chain.

“Bon Appetite!”

Sam snorted, but tucked quickly into the food anyway. As Dean made to grab one of the greasy breakfast sandwiches … something gave him pause. There was a sick feeling deep in his gut, as if he swallowed a lead ball and it was rolling around his intestines. Something was very, very wrong … and he didn’t like it. His empty hand dropped to the countertop as he concentrated on the sensation. Gabriel gave him a critical look before rounding the corner to step up beside Dean.

“What’s wrong? What do you feel?”

Sam’s breakfast slapped down onto the table as he spun to face Dean, but he remained silent and waiting for his brother to answer the arch-angel. Dean shook his head as he furrowed his eyebrows. He knew something was off, he just couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It was a dark and oily-slick sensation, not unlike Crowley’s, but obviously different. Someone was suffering, though … someone was in pain.

“Gabe.”

The arch-angel gripped Dean roughly on the shoulder and shook him, just slightly.

“Just lead me there, and I’ll take care of it.”

Dean nodded and tried to imagine painting a line between himself and the distinct feeling of darkness. After a few seconds Gabriel nodded in return and disappeared in a flash. There were approximately two seconds of silence in the room before he snapped back into existence with a grim expression on his face.

“About twenty demons attacking a fairly small town … not too far from here. I can take them by myself … what do you want me to do?”

Dean grimaced … but he really had no choice in the matter.

“Take them out … try and save the vessels if you can.”

Gabriel smirked at him.

“Meat grind the demons, safety wrap the sock puppets. Gotcha!”

And then he was gone again. Dean felt the stirrings of a massive headache and rubbed absently against his temples with not-so-steady fingers. The warm touch of his brother’s hand against his shoulder startled him somewhat. Dean had honestly forgotten that Sam was still there, his voice deep and filled with concern.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Dean?”

The elder Winchester nodded and attempted to smile up at his brother with as much encouragement that he could offer.

“It’s not so big a deal, Sammy. The big cheese had warned me when I was remade with his Grace that there was every chance I would feel or see or sense things differently than before. That’s what’s been going on … I’m just adjusting to the changes. Okay?”

Sam nodded and went back to eat his breakfast. Five minutes later Gabriel popped back into existence with a shit-eating smile on his face and his clothes covered in a mixture of foul-smelling sulfur and iron-rich blood.

“There’s more of them now … it’s a great ball of laughs, but could you possibly call the cavalry and get me some help, please?”

Then he was instantly gone.

Dean chuckled darkly and sent a little ‘pull’ of a request to Balthazar and Cas … who were off doing god-knows-what. Without even thinking, he ‘pushed’ them towards Gabriel’s location with hopefully clear instructions to assist, and not to string up their brother like a wee angel piñata and swing him from the trees. It was only a handful of seconds before he could sense his three angels reuniting at the town under siege. The pulses of their power as they exorcised the demons sent shivers up his spine.

It was all getting to be a bit much. How the hell was he supposed to live like this? In charge of three otherworldly creatures that could snap him like a twig if they really wanted to, with the King of Hell on his radar for some unknown reason, and God stopping by for house calls in his boxers and housecoat. For fuck’s sake… his life used to be pretty simple. Kill bad things, listen to Dad, protect Sammy. Where had that gone?

Somewhere with yellow-eyed demons, and Dad’s sacrifice and Sam being the meat suit for Lucifer himself. Angels were real, Cain and Abel were apparently their ancestors, and Dean possessed some of the powers usually reserved for the All-Mighty.

Seriously.

What.

The.

Fuck.

He started to giggle just barely under his breath. Then he glanced up at Sam’s stunned and worried face, and the giggles burst into peals of laughter that put stitches in his sides and made it hard to breathe.

Dean Winchester…this is your life. I mean… holy shit. Literally. HOLY shit.

There were tears streaming down his face by the time he felt the angels arrive back into the cabin. No one spoke, it was pretty clear they were worried about his sanity, but then … so was he. Castiel’s warm hands slowly moved to grip his shaking shoulders, and then with a flutter of wings, they were in their bedroom and Dean was collapsing onto the mattress. He rolled over to jam his face into the pillow and howled with manic laughter.

Cas silently lay down next to him and plastered himself to Dean’s side, his long fingers traced soothing patterns along Dean’s heaving back. Eventually, Dean panicked himself out and the breakdown subsided. He sniffed into the pillow, but refused to turn and meet Cas’ gaze. He’s made a fool of himself and Sam was probably worried sick.

“Do you feel a little better now?”

The angels whispered words were close enough that the puffs of air released with them washed over the back of Dean’s neck. He shook his head in denial and Cas sighed.

“Father has asked too much of you. I wish it wasn’t so … but I am happy to be able to stay by your side. So I cannot be too judgmental of his choices.”

Dean finally turned his head on the pillow so that he could meet Cas’ solemn blue gaze.

“I just wish I knew what he wanted from me. Why would he give me three angels? What does that mean?”

Cas pursed his lips, and then reached up to trail his fingertips along Dean’s jaw and up into his hair.

“He must have told you something of his plans?”

Dean sniffed again. His eyes threatened to flutter closed as Cas’s fingers began to trace the swirls of his ear and then trek down the curve of his neck.

“He just said to do with you what I wanted. To find a purpose. Go back into hunting things, I guess. But it’s a little much for me, Cas. I’m just a stupid high-school drop out with a glaring lack of self preservation. I’m not really worth anything.”

The angel’s fingers stilled for a moment before he moved his hand to place it in the middle of Dean’s back, directly over where his heart would be on the other side of his spine.

“To me and Sam and Bobby … you are worth everything.”

Dean slid his gaze away in embarrassment.

“And Balthazar and Gabriel? What do I have to offer them?”

Cas tutted a little under his breath.

“Balthazar will almost always be in it for himself. This is no different. It was either go back to the Heavenly Hosts and be forced to constantly prove himself worthy of existence, or come to you. Who already knows his faults and accepts him, even with them. You won’t judge him or ask him to do anything that you would not do yourself. He knows this… and I think it has earned you his begrudging respect. So he will be loyal, and he will find purpose in whatever you wish him to do.”

Dean considered his words for a moment, and had to admit the truth of them. Balthazar had helped them previously, even when he hadn’t really wanted to.

“And Gabriel?”

Cas smiled softly.

“I think Gabriel is just very happy to be alive again. He has always been fonder of Earth than of Heaven, and I think the choice wasn’t even really a choice for him. Be stuck in Heaven and forced to make amends for his desertion … or be stuck down here and be bound to answer to you. I am sure he didn’t even think about it. He seemed pretty fond of you and your brother anyway.”

Dean snorted.

“FOND? He killed me, like … a hundred times! And mentally scarred Sam for life, I think.”

The angel smiled again before slowly rolling over onto his back.

“What is it you call that … pigtail pulling? If he didn’t like you, he would not have even bothered to make himself known to you. In his own way he was trying to help you out. Teach you a lesson. Gabriel’s just never been particularly good with subtly.”

Laughing, Dean rolled over to mirror Castiel’s position on his back, side by side in the middle of the massive bed.

“That’s called an understatement, Cas.”

The angel nodded solemnly, but his eyes were sparkling with humor.

“Have you ever thought about how powerful a statement you are, Dean?”

He furrowed his eyebrows at the angel in confusion.

“I don’t get what you’re saying. A statement?”

Cas nodded, but held Dean’s gaze steady.

“Think of what you are, Dean. You were just a boy who became a hunter… and then you shook the very foundations of Heaven and Hell itself. You sacrificed yourself for your brother and were sent to be tortured and broken in the pit, but you rose again. You have stopped the Apocalypse, bested Death more times than I really care to count, and helped to send Lucifer himself back into his cage. You have faced off against the Four Horsemen, tangled with the Mother of all Evil, and were trusted enough by the Creator to become the Hand of God.”

Dean shrugged a shoulder and fought his blush.

“When you say that … it sounds so impressive.”

Castiel sucked in a sharp breath and then quickly spun himself until he was lying partially over Dean, chest to chest, and was gripping the human’s head between his elegant hands.

“You ARE impressive, Dean! Do you not realize that your determination and character, alone, converted three of God’s angels to your side? We chose you … over our own Beloved Father. You! This event is unheard of. It will be written about for millennia… and your accomplishments will be sung of in praise forever. Please never doubt how amazing you are. Please never doubt that you are worth all of this. That you are worth everything.”

He could do nothing but just stare into the angel’s eyes and nod slightly. Having someone like Cas commend him so emotionally made him nervous. Dean licked at his lips at his discomfort of being praised. Castiel’s gaze instantly shot down to follow the motion, and the charged energy of the atmosphere shifted.

“You are amazing, Dean. Everything about you is … stunning.”

And then Cas’ lips were crashing to his, and Dean gasped in shocked delight. He wrapped his arms around the angel’s waist as he was kissed to within an inch of his life. Castiel was humming little pleasurable sounds into their joined mouths even as his tongue battled with Dean’s. He arched his back wantonly to feel the press of the angel’s weight against him, reveling in the friction it created. Wrenching his mouth away, Dean pressed his head back until his throat was exposed to Cas. The angel immediately bent to mouth at his jugular, sucking little marks into the skin.

From nowhere the dark, oily sense of demons lanced through Dean’s nerves and he froze. Cas stilled above him and was just opening his mouth to speak when there was a polite knock on the bedroom door.

“Mom? Dad? Hope you’ve got your pants on, kiddos… cuz it’s going down again.”

There was a tenseness laced with the humor of Gabriel’s words and Dean sighed as the frantic desire that had been rolling through his system abated. Cas had already rolled up and off the bed by the time Dean sat up.

“Didn’t you guys take care of the demons in the town?”

The words were not accusatory, more confused, and Castiel responded with a nod.

“Yes. We sent them all back to Hell … this must be something new.”

Dean sighed heavily as he lifted himself from the bed and made his way to the door. Gabriel stood on the other side impatiently, shifting from foot to foot, but still managed to leer a little when Dean opened the door.

“Same town?”

Gabriel shook his head as he turned to lead them down the hallway to the first floor.

“Nope. Different one. Closer to us, though … so that’s probably not good.”

“Did the demons say anything to you before?”

He could feel Castiel tense behind him, but obviously Gabriel had no such qualms about reporting anything and everything to Dean.

“They kept asking where our Godling was, but that was it.”

As they reached the bottom of the spiral staircase Sam jumped up from where he had been seated next to Balthazar, going over something on his laptop.

“Dean! This town is twenty miles closer to us than the last. Balthazar was able to sense it as soon as the demons arrived. He said they’re getting stronger.”

“I believe that my actual words were ‘Hell is starting to send out the bigger guns’.”

Dean grunted as he plopped down on one of the barstools.

“So they’re getting closer. I’m going to assume, with our string of luck, that means they’re heading right for us. Or trying to lure us out to fight.”

Sam nodded as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“I think we would all be in agreement there. What do you think we should do?”

Dean blinked at his brother a couple times in disbelief. Sam was always one to immediately make his opinion known, and for even him to defer to Dean’s control was disconcerting. He needed an equal in this. He needed his little brother to stand up to him and deflect his careless responses with more calculated ones.

“What do you think we should do, Sam?”

His little brother gave him an oddly dissecting look before he dropped his hands to brace on his hips.

“I would get the angels to strengthen our sigils and borders around the salvage yard, and then go out to the new town… see if they can help the people. I’d like to go, too. Try and do a little reconnaissance and figure out what the demons are after.”

Dean stood and clapped his hands together once, loudly.

“Awesome! Sounds like a plan, let’s get going-”

“NO!”

The echo of four voices speaking in unison reverberated off the walls and froze Dean in shock.

“What do you mean NO? I’m going too!”

Sam shook his head as Gabriel pushed Dean back into the barstool.

“Sorry, little amigo … but you’re staying here.”

Dean slapped the smaller angel’s hands away and stood back up.

“Bullshit! If Sam’s going, then so am I.”

Balthazar clucked in annoyance as he pretended to dust lint off his dark gray shirt.

“Sorry, darling, but no. All the demons in the last town would do was taunt us about you and ask where you were.”

Sam stepped forward.

“That means they’re trying to lure you out for some reason, Dean. Going into that town is exactly what they want.”

Even if he had to admit the legitimacy of Sam’s words, it still rankled.

“So I’m just supposed to send my little brother and my … my angels out there, instead? What if that’s the plan, huh? Snag one of you to force my hand and meet with Crowley again?”

Right after he said the words, Dean realized his mistake. He hadn’t told any of them about the conversation with the new King of Hell. Castiel was instantly whipping Dean around by his shoulders and glaring at him with a sparking ferocity. The other three were just staring at him in shock.

“What do you mean again, Dean? When did you meet with him before?”

Dean glanced down at his feet and refused to answer. Castiel suddenly sucked in a sharp breath.

“That night… the other night when we thought we felt something, but you said it was nothing. Crowley was here, wasn’t he?”

Dean remained silent, even knowing that would show the truth behind the accusation. Sam practically screeched right next to him.

“He was HERE? Dean! You spoke to him ALONE? What were you thinking?”

Finally, he lost his composure and shoved away from them all.

“Nothing happened! He was just talking shit and being his usual jackass self! Now don’t you think you should get going? The sigils need to be strengthened, and there’s a town to save.”

With those words, Dean stalked out of the house and made his way to Bobby’s. If he was going to be left behind like a sheltered child, then he was going to do it in good company and a little alcohol. Bobby didn’t say a word as Dean slammed down into the chair next to him and reached for his ever-present flask. He could feel the angels check on the sigils and then depart, most likely with Sam in tow, and he scowled.

“That’s a mighty pissy look for a grown man.”

Dean grunted and took another deep swallow of whiskey, letting it burn down his throat.

“There was another attack. They’ve gone off with Sam and I’m supposed to stay here on my tuffet and crochet doilies.”

Bobby snickered as he leaned back in his chair.

“Can’t really blame them, can you? Especially Sam and Cas … they just got you back, after all.”

Dean shrugged a shoulder but didn’t respond to the older man’s words.

“They’re protecting you. It’s their job.”

Now that brought forth a response.

“Who says it’s their job? I can protect myself.”

The other hunter sighed and rubbed a hand down his whiskered face.

“Look, son … I ain’t no idjit. There’s more going on with you right now than you’re wanting to share, and I get that. Hell… I appreciate the fact that the cracks in my ceiling keep disappearing, and the paint on the walls keeps getting brighter, I do. If nothing else, Jodie loves you for it. But you got to realize… it ain’t normal. You’re in charge of angels and on speaking terms with God, and you can physically change the things around you. You aren’t normal anymore, Dean. You’re special.”

Dean sneered, but Bobby just continued.

“Your BFF God has assigned those angels to protect you. And to some extent, me and Sam and everyone you care about. That means he has big plans for you, and he doesn’t want you to do something stupid like getting blown up before those plans come to fruition.”

Kicking his feet up on the desk, Dean took another pull from the flask.

“I’ve had Gods and Demons have ‘plans’ for me before. They never seemed to have my best interests in mind.”

Bobby grunted and reached for the flask, swiping it out of Dean’s grasp.

“Are you sure? You’re still here, ain’t ya?”

Conceding the point, Dean dropped his head backwards to stare at the ceiling. Immediately upon his observation, the cracks and water stains began to seal and disappear. Dean sighed as Bobby chuckled.

“If you ever feel like going out to the garage… it could use a good scrub down.”

Dean rolled his eyes.

CHAPTER FOUR

DCBB - Dean Winchester's Home for Wayward Angels - CHAPTER 2

bunnymaccool — Sun, 11 Nov 2012 23:20:22 GMT

CHAPTER TWO

A couple hours and a dozen cheap beers later, Dean was feeling more up for human (and angel) company. He had a pleasant buzz going as he slowly trudged his way towards the house. Halfway there … something gave him pause.

There was an odd sensation at the edges of his consciousness. Something dark and oily, like a grease stain on the periphery of his mind. It was steadily growing closer to his position, and Dean cursed himself for being unarmed and alone. Just because the war in Heaven was over didn’t mean there weren’t all manner of evil things out for a little Winchester blood.

“Hello, cupcake.”

You’ve got to be kidding me. Is it seriously ‘Come Annoy Dean Winchester Day’?

He knew that smarmy accent, and sure enough, when Dean turned around he was met with a very familiar smirk.

“Crowley. What the fuck are you doing here?”

The current ruler of Hell pursed his lips in a mocking pout as he sidled up closer to Dean.

“Aw, darling … one would think you weren’t happy to see me.”

Dean sneered but kept himself loose and calm.

“Yeah, well your assumptions would be correct, you limey bastard.”

The demon tutted softly under his breath and slowly began to walk in a circular pattern around Dean’s position. He seemed to be alone, but you could never tell with the crafty little shit.

“Now, Dean … you’re being so rude. Here I’ve come just to check up on my favorite little meat sack, and you’re resorting to calling names. That isn’t very polite.”

The closer Crowley came, the more that grease slick sensation made shivers trample down Dean’s spine. If nothing else, hopefully that suggested that he would be able to sense demons from now one. Unless it was just Crowley that was setting his spider-sense tingling.

“Check up on me? What the hell are you talking about?”

Crowley hummed softly as he turned to gaze heavenward.

“All sorts of nasty rumors floating about, darling. Mostly of your untimely demise … but I can see those must have been greatly exaggerated.”

Well then, that explained it. Crowley was there for answers. The play of powers and the return of Chuck had likely sent ripples and shockwaves through the supernatural community, but unless Crowley had a direct line to Heaven, he didn’t have a clue about what had actually taken place. Or how it might affect him. So Crowley was clearly here for reconnaissance. He wanted to see where he still stood in the grand scheme of things.

“Well, obviously … I’m standing right here, aren’t I?”

There was an odd glint of understanding in the demon’s eyes that gave Dean pause. For all he knew it could very well be glaringly apparent to Crowley that Dean was made of different stuffs since they last time they had crossed paths. If he was able to sense the power thrumming through the demon’s vessel, there was nothing to say that Crowley couldn’t feel God’s Grace woven into every fiber of his being.

“Quite right. There you are.”

In the next instant, there was a rusted hunk of a car door rocketing towards Dean’s face. Power immediately sang through his veins and the world white-washed a little, just at the edges. The projectile froze in mid-air inches from Dean’s nose, hovering for several seconds before it dropped to the ground. Crowley cackled in hard-edged glee.

“Oh there you are, gorgeous! I was beginning to wonder!”

Dean fought as hard as he could to keep himself steady and unfazed on the outside, but inside he was quaking in his boots. The power he could feel sparking across his body and jack-rabbiting through his muscles was heady. It was much more than he could comprehend or know what to do with. Maybe he understood Sam’s fear a little now, too. If this was what he could do now … fuck knows what he did when he wasn’t in control … back before the end.

“What do you want, Crowley?”

The world was still a little white at the perimeter, but for the first time since all the crazy shit began, Dean truly felt like he was in charge of it. In command.

Crowley smirked.

“Nothing, beautiful. Nothing at all … for now.”

Then the demon was gone. Dean could feel the darkness of him moving away quickly, and as he did the whiteness faded from his vision. He huffed a deep breath in relief, then turned his palms up and stared at his hands with more than a little bit of trepidation. This was more than Chuck was letting on. This wasn’t just sensing things a little differently. This wasn’t just something to get used to and not worry about.

This was … this was big.

“Dean?”

He glanced up to watch Castiel approach slowly. He was wearing a new pair of his jeans and one of the orange shirts (apricot, Dean’s memory annoyingly provided) but his feet were bare. There was a wariness in Cas’ gaze that Dean had never experienced before. Dean abruptly dropped his hands to his sides and turned to meet the angel head on.

“What’s up, Cas?”

The angel stopped a couple feet out of reaching distance, then pointedly glanced down to stare at the hunk of metal that Crowley had lobbed at Dean.

“Did something happen just now? There was a spike of power nearby. We were concerned.”

Dean dropped his arms and rubbed his palms absently against the rough denim of his jeans.

“Nah … nothing to be concerned about, Cas. Just another little conversation. Promise.”

The angel looked skeptical, but apparently didn’t feel like pushing for the truth at the moment.

“Are you … coming back inside? Balthazar has been cooking. I would say that I found this more than mildly disturbing, but the meal actually appears quite delicious. If I were to strictly judge by the smell.”

Dean cackled and clapped a friendly arm around the angel’s shoulder to steer them on towards the house.

“Awesome. Let’s see what the new little wifey cooked up for us, eh?”

A genuine smile broke free on Cas’ normally stoic face.

“It would be, perhaps, unwise for Balthazar to hear you refer to him as such.”

Laughing out loud, Dean knocked his head softly against Cas’ in a congenial manner as they began to shuffle towards the front porch.

“Nonsense. This is my angel harem, I’ll call him what I want.”

“Dean-”

“OH! Maybe I can get him to call me Daddy!”

“Dean-”

“That would be awesome, wouldn’t it, Cas?”

“Dean-”

“Ooooo… hey, Cas … will you call me Daddy?”

“Dean-”

“Come on, Cas… say Daddy… say Dad-dy, Cas.”

“De-”

“WILL YOU RIDICULOUS HEATHENS PLEASE SHUT UP AND COME SET THE TABLE!”

Cas flushed a pretty pink across his cheeks as Dean burst out laughing and slammed open the screen door to the front room. All in all it had seemed to serve as a pretty good deflection from the argument earlier, and the questions that would have popped up regarding the power surge from Crowley’s visit. Plus Balthazar had a distinct twitch to his left eye that indicated he had heard at least a portion of the “daddy” conversation.

That counted as a win in Dean’s book.

“Coming, sister-wife!”

The resulting spatula-shaped bruise on his temple was totally worth it.

~*~

Dinner had been a pretty decent affair. Dean couldn’t even begin to pronounce whatever the hell it was the Balthazar had made, but it tasted damn good. The prickly bastard had stayed just long enough to eat his portion, then with a begrudgingly given ‘call me when you need me’, had flickered off to wherever he was spending time these days. Dean had slipped away to shower and then gone straight on to bed. Maybe an hour after his well-time escape from having to do dishes found him laying down in bed and contemplating the cracks in the ceiling.

Cas was still downstairs with Sam and Bobby doing who knows what, so unfortunately Dean was left alone with his thoughts. Like Crowley saying he didn’t want anything ‘yet’. Like how Dean was now responsible for two powerful ex-angels of the Lord. Like the way that massive power had sprung to the surface instantly to keep him from getting a face full of car. Which meant it wasn’t buried too deep.

As he focused so intently on the ceiling with his racing thoughts, he eventually noticed that the cracks were slowly beginning to mend themselves under his absent scrutiny. After mere moments, the rough surface was completely intact. Even the water stain in the corner by the window had disappeared. A pulse of irritation ran through Dean’s brain, but quickly dispersed.

“This is getting fucking ridiculous.”

“Dean?”

Cas’ was poking his head nervously around the corner of the door. Dean waved him into the room. When the angel turned the corner it became blaringly obvious that he was lugging all the shopping bags filled with his new wardrobe into the room.

“Where should I put these, Dean?”

Dean made a flicking motion towards the chest of drawers in the corner of the room.

“Take up however much space you want. I don’t think I have much in there right now.”

The angel nodded and grinned. He began to methodically pull out one piece of clothing at a time and tuck them perfectly into the two bottom drawers. When he was done, he reverently placed his neon orange sneakers next to Dean’s boots on the floor. He eyed the empty bags for a moment before titling his head just a fraction. The bags and shoebox evaporated into nothing. Dean snorted.

“Handy. Instant recycling?”

Cas pursed his lips and shrugged a single shoulder. The human mannerisms he was continuing to pick up made Dean want to use words like ‘adorable’ … and then subsequently stab out his own eyes for thinking so. The angel tugged off his jeans, folding them neatly before dumping them in the clothes hamper, then crawled into bed in his fucking apricot t-shirt and dark gray boxer briefs.

Dean grinned when Cas stretched out beside him, tucking his arm around Dean’s middle and resting his head on Dean’s shoulder. It was a moment of intimacy that would have probably freaked Dean the hell out just a couple weeks ago, but now there was this bone deep connection to the angel that he just couldn’t deny. Even if they hadn’t made out again like desperate teenagers the connection was alive and well.

It was just … Dean really didn’t know what to do next. He understood the logistic of it, of course. Hell, he’d been practically a sex god since the tender age of fourteen. But this was all … different. He wasn’t sure what Cas was expecting from him, if anything, and would it even be something Dean would be able to provide? He had never been the steady relationship type.

Just Lisa … and look how quickly he had fled from that when Sammy came calling.

“You are thinking too much.”

Dean snorted and turned to meet a set of blazing blue eyes only inches from his own.

“Most people would say I don’t think enough.”

Cas smiled softly and thumped Dean’s stomach lightly with his fingers.

“Then they do not know the real you.”

With those words spoken, the angel closed his eyes and settled in for a night of rest. Dean continued to stare at him for several more moments, a little stunned.

“Huh.”

He finally turned his eyes back towards the ceiling and willed himself to sleep.

~*~

Cas woke up screaming like the hounds of Hell were ripping him to ribbons and Dean nearly had a heart attack. There wasn’t really enough time to process exactly what was going on before Cas was grasping at him desperately and keening low in his throat. The angel’s long fingers were skimming frantically over Dean’s face and down his neck and torso.

“Cas? CAS!”

Finally some semblance of reason sparked to life in the familiar blue eyes, and the angel’s breath grew steady and calm. Dean pushed a hand through Cas’ hair to cradle the back of his neck.

“What happened, Cas? Bad dream?”

The angel nodded but broke his gaze away to stare down at his hands, now lying lifelessly in his lap.

“Have you never had a bad dream before, Cas?”

There was a gentle head shake and a small grimace given in response.

“What did you see? Do you remember?”

Cas took a deep breath before speaking.

“You were being tortured, and I couldn’t- … I was helpless to stop it.”

Dean nodded in understanding and pulled Cas close, so that their foreheads were resting against each other.

“It was just a bad dream, Cas. It wasn’t real.”

The angel gripped him tightly, slightly sweaty fingertips slipping across Dean’s back to find purchase.

“It felt very real.”

Smiling softly and trying his best to be reassuring, Dean whispered, lips almost brushing against Castiel’s as he spoke.

“Yeah, sometimes they really do … but I’m right here, and I’m okay.”

Cas pulled away slightly and his gaze flicked down to Dean’s mouth. They hadn’t kissed since that moment on the floor of the cabin, and Dean was suddenly very conscious of that fact. Without thinking, he licked his lips, chewing the lower one just slightly for a want of something to do. Castiel’s eyes widened a fraction and that was all the warning Dean had before the angel practically launched himself at him.

Their lips slammed together and Cas took instantly to biting and suckling at Dean’s mouth. The ferocity of the kiss had Dean gasping, and the angel took advantage of his shock to delve his tongue inside, hot and deep. Cas pushed him backwards with his weight, and Dean allowed himself to fall back on the bed, his angel’s warm body splayed across him and pressing him into the mattress. For as long as Dean had been having sexual relations, he had always considered himself the aggressor. The one in charge. Whether it was because this was his first time with another man, or just because it was Cas … he found himself handing over control to the angel.

Cas shifted so that one leg slipped between Dean’s, and then his thigh was suddenly pressing deliciously against Dean’s crotch. Dean broke away from the kiss to gasp loudly and throw his head back, exposing his neck to Cas. The angel growled low in his throat before latching his mouth over the offered skin, nibbling and sucking bruises across its expanse, all the while rubbing his thigh maddeningly across Dean’s erection.

“Fuck… Cas … fuck … when did you … how …”

Complete sentences just weren’t happening. Not when Dean felt like his brain might be dribbling out of his ears. The sparks of pleasure lightening up and down his spine were unlike anything he could remember experiencing before. It honestly made him feel like all the sex he’d had before was just sex, and this was something else. Cas mumbled against Dean’s lips as he stretched up to kiss him again.

“I’ve been … researching…”

If he had been able to catch his breath, Dean would have chuckled.

“Researching?”

Cas hummed delightedly as he mouthed softly along Dean’s jaw.

“Yes. Sam showed me some very helpful websites on the internet-”

Thoughts of his little brother showing Cas what was probably, essentially gay porn made Dean’s heart stutter in embarrassment. But that wasn’t the worst of it. Oh no.

“-and Bobby suggested some literature. ‘Homosexual Intercourse for the Intellectually Challenged,’ I think?”

Horror warred with libido … and horror won. Dean froze and pushed against Castiel’s shoulders.

“You’ve been… you’ve been talking to Sam and Bobby? About sex with me?”

The angel seemed put out at being pushed away for a moment, before he realized that Dean was honestly horrified at the thought.

“I am sorry… should I not have?”

Dean screeched and levered himself to a seated position.

“NO!!”

Cas appeared honestly contrite, and Dean’s erection was definitely done for the night.

“No… Jesus, Cas! That’s … I mean … if you have questions, you can ask me, okay? Come straight to me and we’ll figure it out, okay?”

Castiel shrugged and flopped sideways on the bed, refusing to meet Dean’s gaze.

“I just didn’t understand. Nothing has happened since we left the cabin, and I thought perhaps you had changed your mind. That you didn’t want me … that way … anymore.”

Dean slumped forward until he could push Castiel onto his back, then he carefully laid his head down on the angel’s chest and wrapped his arms tightly around Cas’ middle. The angel cautiously raised his hand to thread his fingers through Dean’s short hair.

“I do still want you that way, Cas. Hell, we’ve been sleeping in the same bed for weeks. I just … I’m not good at this kind of thing, and I’ve never been with another man before, so I’m just taking my time a bit. Alright?”

He could feel the other man nod beneath him.

“I understand, Dean. We will wait until you are ready.”

Dean sighed against the fabric of Castiel’s shirt. The arousal and adrenaline that had been singing through his veins were both dissipating, and his eyes felt heavy with sleep.

“I do love you, Cas.”

The chest beneath him hummed with a happy purr as the fingers carding through his hair moved to gently swipe across Dean’s bottom lip.

“I love you, too, Dean.”

The hunter drifted off to sleep content with the steady thump of the angel’s heartbeat in his ear.

~*~

The next morning was oddly silent in the house. Everyone was seated at the table, but no one was really talking, Bobby and Sam were going out of their way to keep from meeting Dean’s eyes. Served them right, too. Let them be a little mortified now in the harsh light of morning. They probably thought sex had happened last night and were trying not to visualize it. Dean had the sudden urge to walk around like he had a sore ass and take the uncomfortable tension up a notch.

Just for shits and giggles.

Dean got a backwash of gingersnap cookies just before the sound of wings fluttered to life in the dining room.

“Good morning, lovelies!”

And that was just what he needed to ratchet up the bizarre day he was already having. Perfect.

“So, look, duckies … I have news…”

Something new slipped into the back of Dean’s throat. Super sweet and syrupy. Like rock candy and lollipops and cream soda. Just before the sound of wings repeated in the room, Dean dropped his head into hands and groaned.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“BABIES!!! I’VE MISSED YOU!!”

Sam spewed coffee across the table, Castiel shot to his feet, and Bobby sighed as he slipped some whiskey into his mug while Sheriff Mills was distracted by the newcomer. Dean raised his head, and sure enough … same little loud-mouthed shit with his bright eyes and trickster smirk.

“Gabriel.”

The arch-angel, who had been in the middle of hugging the life out of a horrified Sam, turned to Dean and grinned sincerely.

“Dean-o!! Sweetcheeks! Honey bear! Jesus Junior! It’s good to see you, you bastardy ball of angst!”

The smaller man wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck and squeezed before planting a noisy kiss on the crown of his head. Then he was quickly distracted by Castiel, who seemed completely perplexed on the events of the morning. He didn’t even move as Gabriel hugged him close.

“Cas! Little bro! Look at you! You’ve said ‘no’ to tan! I knew you had it in you!”

“Gabriel? I … you are back?”

A pounding headache was slowly creeping into Dean’s skull that magnified with each voice that joined in the chorus of chaos echoing off the walls.

“You bet your sweet ass, I am!”
“I was asked to escort him here. He’s here. Please tell me I can go now.”
“God brought you back with the rest? When he fixed everything?”
“Or maybe it’s not your sweet ass… I’ve heard its Dean’s ass now.”
“But why are you here?”
“I’m gonna need a bigger house.”
“I beg of you, can I please leave? He gives me hives.”
“Bobby… what the hell is going on?”
“Fuck you, Balty! I’m adorable!”
“No seriously, why the hell are you here?”
“Why would it be Dean’s ass and not my own?”

That was it.

“SHUT UP!” *KA-CRACK*

A deafening thunderclap shook the house, rattling the windows and silencing everyone instantly. Well, almost everyone.

“Sorry, boss.”

“Can it, Gabriel.”

When Dean rose slowly from the chair and turned to face the room’s occupants, he was met with several expressions of utter shock… and a little fear, with the exception of Balthazar and Gabriel. It would figure that if Chuck had assigned them to Dean directly, they were already aware that he still had power at his disposal. He had managed to keep it under wraps from everyone else.

Sam swallowed.

“Dean-”

Dean held up a hand and his brother fell silent. Slowly crossing his arms over his chest, Dean tipped his head back until he could stare at the ceiling above him.

“We need to talk.”

The world whited out instantly around him, and there was Chuck sitting on the kitchen counter and swinging his legs.

“Hi, Dean!”

Dean sighed as his shoulders slumped.

“Seriously, Chuck? Gabriel? What the fuck am I supposed to do with an arch-angel turned trickster turned arch-angel?”

Chuck shrugged his shoulders and fiddled with the hem of his housecoat.

“Gabriel was so used to Earth, I knew he wouldn’t be happy with the Heavenly Host. Not to mention YOU were the one who managed to bring him back around and do what was right. He sacrificed himself for you … so I figured … he was kind of already yours anyway.”

The phrase about the weight of the world being put on your shoulders suddenly seemed very apt.

“Chuck …”

“Just think of all the good you’ll accomplish! You have three powerful angels at your disposal. All yours. Do you want any more? I can get you Uriel … or Ananiel, maybe?”

“OH, HELL NO-”

“Oooooh… you’re right. That would be kinda awkward now, wouldn’t it?”

“Chuck…”

The All-Father hummed in response. Dean glanced down at his own feet for a moment, surprised that they were bare and he was dressed in all white, like when he awoke from his moment of martyrdom.

“Did you happen to see what happened with Crowley?”

Something dark flashed across Chuck’s face for the briefest of seconds, but then he was all grins again.

“Don’t worry about Crowley.”

Dean nodded and watched as Chuck hopped down from the counter and the white began to bleed out of the room.

“Wait! I’m looking after three of your most dysfunctional kids… I want some alimony!”

Chuck laughed.

“Really, Dean?”

Stomping his foot like a toddler, Dean huffed.

“Do you realize how much candy Gabriel eats? And we don’t have any more rooms in the house, we’re already imposing on Bobby as it is, Cas has gone fashion diva on me … and I can’t really get money by nefarious purposes anymore, right? So what the heck am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to provide?”

The smile he received in response to his words was warm and wide. Chuck reached out to rest a hand on Dean’s shoulder, giving it a small squeeze.

“Alright. I’ll help you out a bit. I’m so proud of you, Dean. You’re going to be just perfect.”

Dean blinked at the phrasing, but the white around him was already beginning to fade.

“Perfect for what, Chuck?”

Everything melted away quickly until he found himself standing in Bobby’s silent kitchen.

“Perfect for WHAT, you sneaky sonuvabitch!?”

Someone cleared their throat behind him, and Dean turned to find the swarm of people and angels just as he had left them. Gabriel was grinning so wide and bright it was amazing he hadn’t popped a blood vessel. Dean glared at him.

“What, Gabriel?”

“Did you just call our Father a sneaky son of a bitch… to his face?”

Dean shrugged one shoulder and the angel squealed in response.

“This is going to be so awesome! What are we gonna do first, boss? Come on, come on … give me an assignment!”

Before he could say anything in response, Sam slapped on epic bitchface #92 and stepped right up into Dean’s business.

“Uh… personal space, Sam?”

And fuck…epic flashback… with all that had changed, that was kinda hilarious right there.

“Dean. I deserve an explanation.”

Shrugging nonchalantly and side-stepping Mount Sam, Dean chugged down the rest of his coffee and spun on his heel to leave the kitchen.

“What kind of explanation, Sammy? Gabriel’s part of the family now. Woo-hoo! Look at us! We’re the official Brady Bunch of the Heavenly Host. He’s not the youngest, but personally I think that Gabe would look the most adorable with the curls.”

“HEY!”

Dean was honestly shocked when his arm was grabbed painfully and he was flung around to face a very pissed off looking little brother.

“Don’t make a joke of this, Dean, God dammit! You know exactly what I am talking about! There was a clap of fucking thunder that shook the house when you yelled! What. Is. Going. On.”

Dean rubbed his free hand wearily down his face.

“Nothing, Sam. It’s nothing. I promise.”

Sam looked like he wasn’t buying it one iota, but released Dean’s arm anyway.

“I know this is stupid to ask, because you never have before … but you would tell me if something was wrong, right Dean? You would tell me… because you promised me in that damn cabin that you would never leave me again. You promised.”

Sam’s eyes were a little glassy and wounded. It felt like a punch to Dean’s gut. He reached up slowly to grasp the back of Sam’s neck, and then brought his little brother down until they knocked foreheads.

“I’m not leaving you again, Sam. Never. I swear.”

Sam nodded and sniffed, but didn’t speak.

“Hey guys? Guys? Guys?”

Dean sighed and moved away from his brother.

“What, Gabriel?”

The smaller angel shrugged and pointed to the kitchen window.

“Just thought you might like to know that there’s a house in the backyard.”

Everyone in the kitchen save for Gabriel whipped around to stare out the window. Just visible was the corner of a building that hadn’t been there five minutes previously. The screen door slammed behind him as Dean sprinted out into the salvage yard and skidded to a stop. He could hear everyone else follow him out, but his main focus was on the rustic, two-story log cabin that was somehow squeezed between the towers of cars and scraps.

“What … the… hell…”

A movement caught his eye, and there, swinging slowly above the entrance to a wraparound porch was a wooden sign with the word ‘Alimony’ carved into the surface. A shocked laugh wrenched its way from Dean’s throat.

“Oh, you snarky bastard.”

He trotted in double-time over to the cabin and cautiously stepped up onto the porch. It was absolutely gorgeous. Something he had tucked away in his thoughts ages ago that he would like to have, but knew his lifestyle would never permit. Thick logs of cedar made up the walls of the cabin, stained a rich, beautiful rust color. The trim around the windows and the door were an aged hunter green, and four wooden rocking chairs were lined up on either side.

Hesitantly, Dean opened the front door and stepped inside. It looked like something straight out of a catalogue. Living room, dining room and kitchen in one big open floor plan with the same cedar walls and floor as the exterior. The furniture was all supple chocolate leather or distressed wood, with a giant stone fireplace in the corner. The kitchen had gleaming stainless steel appliances and honey quartz countertops that glowed with the butter rich light from the hanging lamps above the island bar.

There was a low, appreciative whistle from behind him before Gabriel’s voice spoke up.

“Man, oh, man. Pretty swanky. If you got this… I guess Dad got the car and the dogs, huh?”

Dean rolled his eyes but stepped further into the house towards the wrought iron spiral staircase in the back corner. He took the stairs slowly, one by one, to appreciate the amazing scrolling iron work that decorated them. When the second floor came into view he had to chuckle. There was just a short hallway with four doors. Each one bearing a carved wooden sign that matched the one hanging on the porch. Gabriel, Balthazar, Sam … Dean & Castiel.

Gabriel whooped loudly from behind him and took off towards his door.

“ME FIRST! ME FIRST!”

Balthazar snorted elegantly as he sauntered over toward his own door.

“I’m sure you understand that I’m not actually going to stay here. I feel as if I should don some track pants and begin planning for the arrival of the comet.”

Against his better judgment (never wise to admit to Balthazar that you might actually find him humorous) Dean chuckled at the statement as he continued to walk towards the door at the far end of the hallway marked Dean & Castiel. Subtle, apparently Chuck was not. He could have at least given Cas his own room for appearances sake. He slowly turned the handle and swung open the door.

A giant king size, rustic oak four poster bed sat dead center in the room. It was piled high with crisp white linens and a thick duvet. Matching oak side tables framed either side, with matching desks separated on the opposite wall. There were two intricately carved, massive oak wardrobes book-ending a long chest of drawers with two mirrors hanging on the wall above it. A large picture window faced east, and was opened to allow a subtle breeze to ripple the white floor length curtains in waves.

Dean was honestly … flabbergasted. He walked towards the right side of the bed (his usual side) and saw something gleaming on the side table. It was a Platinum credit card with his name on it, and a lime green post-it note that read, ‘to provide for the kids’ in a messy scrawl. Just then Sam squealed the equivalent of ‘OMG’ like a big girl from the vicinity of his room … and Dean lost it.

He collapsed on his new, ridiculously comfortable, bed in a fit of giggles and didn’t stop until his sides were screaming in pain.

CHAPTER THREE

DCBB - Dean Winchester's Home for Wayward Angels - CHAPTER 1

bunnymaccool — Sun, 11 Nov 2012 23:10:05 GMT

CHAPTER ONE

The war in Heaven was over and the world was right again. As right as it could be, anyway, considering there were still all manner of monsters and assholes scurrying free across its surface. The All Mighty Father had finally shown his face and cleaned up his mess. Of course, his version of cleaning had been using Dean Winchester as the mighty Swiffer of destruction in Heaven, but hey … it all ended up okay, right?

Chuck … (and fuck if Dean was EVER going to get used to thinking of the scrawny ex-prophet as GOD) … had restored order with the Heavenly Hosts, revived all the fallen from the Civil War, and even recreated Dean himself. Using his own all-powerful grace, no less. Things weren’t all coming up roses, though. Castiel had been banished to Earth as Dean’s personal angel army of one, and it had affected the man more than he would probably ever willingly acknowledge.

Upon his return to earth, to the little cabin holding two thirds of his remaining family and after the impromptu make-out session with Cas on the floor … Dean had promptly passed out. His new body was still adjusting to its creation, and he just hadn’t been physically capable of staying conscious. According to Sam, Dean had slept for three days straight, but Castiel’s utter calm about the short catatonia had kept the younger Winchester from freaking out too much.

All Dean remembered were the epic dreams he’d had. Dreams about Heaven and Hell and the creation of them both. He saw galaxies come into existence and stars vaporize into ashes. He watched a sun go super-nova and witnessed the first sparks of life develop on earth. Chuck appeared in a different visage (one eerily close to Vincent Price) … and Dean observed him as he created his angels, banished Lucifer, and then disappeared from Heaven entirely.

When Dean finally woke, his head was so full to bursting of images and thoughts that he hadn’t spoken to Sam or Cas for at least another day. There was too much information to compute, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Chuck was trying to tell him something … or if it was all just residual from being created with God’s Grace. He was conscious enough to function and move around, but his mind was quite literally … elsewhere.

Finally, he slam-dunked back into full awareness when they pulled up outside the house of Singer Salvage and Bobby and hugged him tightly to his chest … and then smacked him hard upside the head.

“OW!! What the hell, Bobby!?”

The older man growled under his breath as he turned to stalk back towards the house.

“Don’t you give me that, boy … you know exactly what that was for! Sending that poncey prick of an angel to tell me goodbye! I shoulda smacked you with a frying pan!”

Things in la cabesa de Dean Winchester seemed to reboot and fade back into normal after that. Bobby had fired up the grill and laid out a spread fit for a king, with the help of Sheriff Jodie Mills (and ho-boy Dean really hadn’t seen THAT one coming). There had been copious amounts of alcohol and grilled meat to devour between them as Sammy laid the whole sordid tale out for Bobby. For his own part, Dean had just listened with half an ear as he’d stuffed his face, because hello… suddenly ravenously hungry.

Cas was a steady presence at his side. The grounded angel wasn’t saying much … he was mostly just there… always within reaching distance. Every once in a while, he would cast his gaze heavenward and his eyes would take on a haunted glaze. Dean would end up reaching over to pat the angel on his shoulder or thigh gently, and then Cas would turn those stunning blues back at him and smile just the tinniest bit. When bedtime finally rolled around, Cas dutifully followed Dean upstairs towards the bedroom that had always been reserved for the elder Winchester brother. Bobby’s eyebrows damn near hit his hat line, and Dean wondered if Sam had left out that tasty little tidbit from the tale.

“Headin’ to bed, son?” What the hell is going on?

Dean smiled.

“Yup.” Figure it out for yourself, old timer.

Castiel bowed his head slightly in deference towards the older man before stepping through the doorway into Dean’s room. Dean chuckled softly at the look on Bobby’s face before whispering a quiet goodnight and shutting the door behind himself and his angel.

His angel. Heh.

Cas was standing in the middle of the moonlit room looking completely lost. Dean smiled as innocently as he could manage and then started to shuck his road-worn clothes off onto the floor. When he was just down to his faded black boxer briefs, he flopped face first onto the bed and huffed out a weary breath.

“It’s fucking good to be home.”

The angel shuffled his feet for a few seconds and Dean grinned into his pillow.

“Dean? What should … what should I do?”

The hunter groaned and reached around to scratch a pesky itch on the back of his thigh.

“Bedtime, Cas. That means you go to bed.”

Complete silence filled the room for several moments, and Dean had never been good at ignoring his curiosity. He turned his head and laughed softly at the look of consternation on the angel’s face.

“Cas. Take off your clothes. Get into bed. Sleep.”

He was answered with a jerky nod, and then the familiar tan jacket was slipping off those deceptively slim shoulders. Cas carefully removed each item of clothing until he was down to a thin white undershirt and a pair of plaid cotton boxers. Dean couldn’t help the grin that split his face as Cas looked down at his underdressed state.

“I have never removed the materials of this vessel before.”

Lifting his arm just enough to pat the bed beside him, Dean totally did not giggle. Seriously. Shut up.

“Well get used to it, pal … no angel of mine is going to be seen day in and day out wearing the same nerdy accountant wear.”

Cas shot him a mild glare, but carefully padded over to the bed and crawled onto the ancient mattress.

“I have never had reason to change clothing before. It suits me fine.”

Dean scooted a little more towards the wall and the angel slowly spread himself down into a resting pose. He copied Dean’s position exactly, as if he wasn’t sure how else to lie down to go to sleep.

“Well, it doesn’t suit me. We’re going to get you some new clothes. Something less Jimmy Novak and more Castiel- … huh. Guess we’re going to have to get you a last name, aren’t we?”

The angel ran his fingers down the seam of the pillow case.

“If I have to have one … can I choose it myself?”

Dean grinned.

“Of course you can. Do you have something in mind?”

Cas shook his head slightly.

“Not yet. I will let you know.”

It was quiet after that. The echoes of the crickets outside were working hard to lull Dean into sleep. He let his eyes drift closed and enjoyed hum of the air conditioner, and the cool breeze of it across his back. There was a mild warmth from the closeness of Castiel’s body and the hair at his nape stirred a little with the angel’s deep breaths. All in all … it was a pretty perfect way to fall asleep.

~*~

Something stirred him to wakefulness just as the morning sun was beginning to glow red against his eyelids. A soft tickle of a touch was moving slowly down his back and up along his ribcage. Fingertips. They spread across his shoulders and slid down to cup his elbow for a brief second, before backtracking to skate across the knobs of his spine.

Cas.

Dean slowly blinked his eyes open. Castiel was sitting, Indian style, next to him on the bed and observing the movements of his own fingers intently. There was a level of reverence in his gaze that was humbling. Like the planes of Dean’s back were the most amazing thing he could ever imagine.

“Your scars are all gone.”

He didn’t startle at the sudden words, hunter thank you very much, but a puff of surprised air did escape Dean’s lips. There wasn’t anything he could really think of to say in response to that comment, so he kept his silence and just observed Cas observing him. The angel’s fingertips skimmed down his arm to take hold of Dean’s hand, weaving their fingers together and gripping tight before finally turning to meet Dean’s gaze.

“What are we to do now?”

A yawn broke free, unbidden, and Dean slowly pushed himself up to mirror Cas’ position without breaking the contact of their hands. Since the day of his return, and subsequent almost-but-not-quite dry humping on the floor (which Balthazar had helpfully recorded - fucking bastard) neither man nor angel had initiated any further contact. Dean figured now that his imminent demise wasn’t so imminent … they were both a little unsure of what the next step should be.

“Don’t know … what do you wanna do, Cas?”

“I-”

*KNOCK*KNOCK*KNOCK*

The door rattled in its frame with the force of the pounding.

“WAKE UP YOU LAZY JERK!”

Little brothers … gotta love ‘em.

“SHUT UP, BITCH!”

Sam’s chuckle drifted in from the hallway, followed closely by the stomping footfalls of his epically giant feet. There was a soft murmur of voices further down the hall. Apparently, Sam had been designated to come raze them from sleep. Probably because Bobby was likely still a little freaked out about Dean and Cas sharing the room. When he turned back to said angel, Cas had a small smile ticking into existence. Dean tugged his hand from Cas’ grip and scrambled off the bed.

“Come on, short and stubby … there’s probably breakfast a’cookin’ and I am famished.”

The signature Castiel head tilt popped to the left as the angel stood from the bed.

“I’m neither short … nor stubby. You and your brother are just very … large.”

Dean cackled as he scrounged up a clean shirt to throw on.

“That’s what she said.”

Head tilt. To the right this time.

“I do not understand that reference.”

Dean snagged the angel’s arm and pulled him toward the door.

“Some other time, Cas. Right now … bacon.”

Breakfast was a happy, laid back affair. There were a couple odd looks at Castiel’s state of undress, but Dean didn’t acknowledge it, and Cas was too busy poking at the scrambled eggs to even notice. Once bellies were full and plates were cleared away, Dean smacked Sam hard on the arm and announced that they had business to take care of today.

“What business, Dean? We just got here.”

“Shopping. Epic shopping.”

Bobby huffed out a snorted laugh.

“I didn’t realize that shopping could be considered business … or epic.”

Sherriff Mills mumbled something under her breath about clearance sales and mace … but all the men folk wisely chose to ignore her. Dean tugged on Cas’ shirt to get him heading towards the bedroom and a more publicly acceptable outfit.

“It is when you’re playing with your own personal Dress-Em-Up Angel.”

Sam’s face split into a grin.

“We’re shopping for Cas?”

Dean smacked his lips as he started up the stairs.

“Damn straight, we are. Winchester angels are going to buck the suit-wearing-accountants trend. I deem it so.”

The younger Winchester laughed again.

“You deem it so? Jesus, Dean!”

“That’s a bit redundant there, innit, Sammy?”

Sam stayed silent this time as Dean and Cas ascended (Ha!) the staircase.

~*~

Two hours later and Dean was in Hell.

Again.

Hell this time being the local mall, and his tormenter of choice … Sam Winchester. Let it never be said that Hell is not other people. Especially family members. Family members reliving some sort of childhood Ken and Barbie dress up fantasy. In all honesty, Dean had just figured they hop down to the local thrift store… buy a couple outfits and head home in time to catch a game on the tube.

He did not figure that he would find himself trudging behind Heidi and Tim (yes he watches Project Runway… shudup … Tim Gunn is fucking awesome) trolling through preppy-ass clothes stores and lugging around four shopping bags. The worst fucking part wasn’t even the shopping … it was the clothes. Apparently Cas had a thing for bright colors. Mangos and corals and … tangerines. (And why the fuck did there need to be so many names for fucking orange, man? Orange is orange. Cantaloupe? Are you even serious?)

Cas said they reminded him of the sunrise … so he kept zeroing in on every damn orange-ish fabric that popped up in a store. Eventually, Sam had talked him down to just buying some simple, soft v-neck tees in the colors that he liked the best. So, basically … six shades of orange, a deep purple, a bright-ass grass green and randomly… black. Next, they snagged him a couple pairs of jeans (the fake-distressed stone-washed kind that gave Dean hives) … and pair of gunmetal gray cargo pants that … actually looked pretty freakin’ hot.

Then they’d walked by that damn emo-goth-shit store that lingered in every mall, and Cas had caught a glimpse of a black trench coat hanging in the back. He’d nearly swooned. Then he wouldn’t leave without it … and Sammy made a good point that at least it wasn’t tan. They’d almost made it out of the store when Cas spotted a pair of bright orange Converse high-tops and love was in the fucking air.

Dean dropped down into a hard plastic booth in the food court with a heavy sigh and watched his dysfunctional twins wander off in search of sustenance. They had managed to find Cas some underwear and socks and undershirts he liked, and then picked him up some flannels for layering. (Thank Christ they didn’t come in orange.) So much for having his angel looking badass … best case scenario Cas was going to appear like an extra that had stepped out of It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!

The hunter sighed again and dropped his head back to stare idly at the dying potted ivy hanging in a basket above his head. Leaves brittle and brown, the poor thing looked like it hadn’t been watered in weeks. Dean felt a kinship to the plant. He would wither and die, too, if he was stuck in this bastion of capitalism and teenage wank day after day.

As he concentrated on the ivy, it actually took Dean a second to realize the plant was looking … better. The leaves were filling out and morphing into a healthy, bright green. Vines curled up with new strength to wind around the chain that dangling the basket from the ceiling. One even dropped low to barely brush against the crown of Dean’s head. In a matter of mere seconds, the obviously dead flora had revitalized to the most lush, beautiful ivy in the building.

Holy shit. What the hell had he just done?

He was still staring at the ivy when Sam and Cas dropped into the booth across from him. Dean dropped his gaze instantly to the food being laid out on the table and decided not to mention the plant. Later, as they were leaving the food court, he snatched a quick glance at the ivy … only to find that one hanging vine swaying softly as if waving goodbye. He snapped his eyes away and nearly tore out of the mall to the car.

The drive back to Bobby’s was full of Sam’s random chatter and Cas extolling on the color melon, but all Dean could hear were Chuck’s words. “There will be differences, though. You’ll see. You’ll feel things differently, see things differently, and do things you couldn’t before.” Add that to the funky God (as played by Vincent Price) dreams the week before … and Dean could fully admit he might be heading to a bit of a freak out.

The freak out hit full steam ahead when they walked into the front room of Bobby’ house.

“Hello, darlings!”

Dean instantly felt his lower right eyelid begin to twitch. Bobby and Sherriff Mills were standing an appropriately safe distance away from the kitchen as Balthazar hovered near the ancient stove, stirring some tea. Castiel’s face flushed red instantly, the poor angel probably remembering the exact circumstances of his last meeting with this particular brother.

Thankfully, it was hard to shock Sammy quiet for more than a couple seconds.

“Balthazar? What are you doing here? I thought you were heading back to … to wherever you usually hide?”

The elder angel sniffed elegantly and rolled his eyes once before taking a small sip of tea.

“Yes, well … that had been the plan. Unfortunately… I have been … shall we say, reassigned?”

Proverbial cat apparently releasing his tongue at last, Cas stepped forward with a customary head tilt.

“Reassigned? But you had left the Heavenly Host … I do not understand.”

Balthazar sighed and shrugged his shoulders dramatically.

“Unfortunately, now that Dearest Daddy is back upstairs whipping everyone into shape, I am no longer allowed to be a free agent. Apparently I need to “learn that discipline and loyalty are things to be admired” and prove to him that my existence is worthwhile. Or some bollocks like that.”

Dean suddenly had a very bad feeling about this. Oh … HELL NO, Chuck … you did NOT do this.

“So he sent you to me.”

All eyes turned quickly to Dean upon his grumbled statement. With the exception of Balthazar, most of the corresponding emotions flickering through those gazes were terror and please-anything-but-that. The elder angel, however … seemed sadistically thrilled.

“That’s right, pumpkin! You now have an angel army of two. Aren’t you delighted?”

Bobby’s muttered curse of ‘I’m going to need a bigger house’ could barely be heard over Sam’s loud groaning and Castiel’s bags of clothes falling from his suddenly lax hands. Dean sighed heavily as the room exploded into rapid fire comments and arguments. Sam demanded an explanation. Castiel demanded proof. Mills demanded everyone move the hell out … and Bobby just demanded some whiskey.

Dean slipped away, abandoning the noise of the house all together to jet out the front door and wander down the path through the piles of rusted-out cars. There was a solemn quiet to be found in the salvage yard that always calmed him and made him feel at home. He had been running through these broken and busted machines for as long as he could remember. Sometimes with Sammy chasing close behind, and sometimes alone. Pretending he was Batman stalking through the towering skyscrapers of Gotham City.

“I’m sorry about this.”

Dean whirled instantly, startled to find the junk yard completely washed out in white … and Chuck smiling sheepishly a few feet away. The outfit was the same as the last meeting, but there was a heavy weariness to the set of his eyes that wasn’t present before. Dean cleared his throat and slowly crossed his arms over his chest.

“Not going as easily as you’d hoped, Chuck?”

The smaller man sighed dramatically and shook his head.

“They’re just so …”

“Ridiculous? Psychotic? Poorly dressed?”

“… exhausting, which was totally the reason I left in the first place. You would think after a couple millennia of existence they would lighten up just a little, wouldn’t you?”

Dean shrugged nonchalantly.

“I wouldn’t know. I’m still trying to get my noggin’ around the fact that I apparently now have TWO ‘My Little Angels’ in my toy box.”

Chuck smirked, just a little, and gave back a shrug with a shrug.

“I couldn’t figure out what to do with him. The Host wouldn’t accept him back into their folds because of his desertion … and I figured … he had already proved himself to be willing to help you Winchesters. So…”

Said Winchester brought his hands up to rub across his eyes and then down his face.

“Fine. Yeah. Okay. We’ll make it work. He did help me out.”

The Almighty ex-Prophet cum Lord grinned brightly. Before he could say anything further… Dean figured he should hedge his bets and go for it.

“Chuck … you said … um, that I would be different. Being made from your Grace. How… how different?”

The smaller man side-stepped around Dean with the pretense of eyeing one of the white-washed stacks of junked cars.

“I told you there would be side-effects, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but-”

“It’s nothing to worry about. You’ll get used to it.”

Something was off. Something just wasn’t sitting right in Dean’s gut. But what was he supposed to do? Call out GOD for lying to his face? That would probably end with a smiting. Maybe herpes. Or worse… castration. He wasn’t risking it.

“Fine. That’s great, Chuck. But look, in the meantime, what exactly am I supposed to be doing with my angel army of two, huh? Synchronized diving? Competitive curling? What’s our damn purpose?”

The deity took a couple shuffling steps backward and wiggled his fingers at Dean.

“Their purpose is whatever you make it to be-”

Dean snorted.

“-maybe get them into the family business? Saving people? Hunting things?”

With those last words, Chuck disappeared and the white-washed world slowly began to fade back into living color. It took him several seconds to realize that he was being shaken roughly by the shoulders, and that Sam was saying his name.

“DEAN! DEAN!”

Finally the colors of the world righted themselves, and Dean was startled to find everyone that had previously been in the house, arguing, now surrounding him in the salvage yard looking … panicked. He stepped back out of Sam’s tight grip and blinked his suddenly burning, dry eyes several times.

“For fucks sake, Sam… WHAT?”

A slightly hysterical giggle burst out of Sam.

“WHAT? What do you mean ‘WHAT’? You weren’t responding to our words at all… and your eyes had gone white … just like…just like before.”

Ah. Okay. Dean could see how that would freak his little brother out some. They had all be under the impression that Dean was completely normal again, after he had been remade. He hadn’t told them about Chuck’s warning, that he might still be able to do things or sense things. Admitting that right away would have been more trouble than it was worth. Sam would have been fretting constantly and who knows what kind of reaction Cas would have. Dean cleared his throat and shrugged his shoulders.

“Sorry about that, Sammy … but it’s not like before. I was just having a little pow-wow with the big cheese, that’s all.”

Barring Balthazar, all the eyes upon him widened in comical surprise. Bobby had to choke out his words in a strangled grunt.

“You were talking to GOD? HERE!?”

Dean shrugged again before turning back towards the house in an attempt to escape the inevitable questions about what had just happened.

“Yeah. He stopped by. Apologized for unloading his unwanted stray on me-”

“I BEG your pardon!”

“-and then he went on his merry way. Nothing much to tell here, guys. It’s no big deal.”

A massive hand gripped his shoulder and stopped Dean in his tracks. Inwardly he cursed the day that Sam had surpassed him and size and strength. It just wasn’t fair to have a little brother that was so much larger than him. Fucking genetics.

“Dean-,”

He knocked Sam’s hand away with a little more force than was strictly necessary, but the constant hovering and questions were starting to really wear on Dean’s nerves. He had a hell of a lot of shit on his plate right now and being treated like he was fragile just rubbed his fur the wrong fucking way. No one spoke up again or tried to stop him as he stalked away towards one of the back garages. There was a comfy rocking chair and a mini-fridge full of beer with his name on it.

CHAPTER TWO

DCBB - Dean Winchester's Home for Wayward Angels - MASTERPOST

bunnymaccool — Sun, 11 Nov 2012 22:45:32 GMT

Title: Dean Winchester's Home for Wayward Angels
Author: bunnymaccool
Artist: leyna55
Art link: Art Masterpost
Fandom/Genre: Supernatural / Season 6 AU - drama,humor,romance
Pairing(s): Dean/Cas
Rating: NC-17 - for language and sexual situations
Word Count: 20,500
Warnings: Bad language. Sexy times. Bottom Dean.

Authors Notes: This story is a sequel to my DCBB from last year.. that you can find here ------> Are You There, Dean Winchester? It's Me ... God. You can probably still read this years without last years... it should be somewhat self-explanatory... hopefully.

BIG thank you to my fanTABulous Beta mainegirlwrites!! Also to my DCBB artist leyna55, whose art is just absolutely BREATHTAKING!!! Lastly of course, thank you to the fabulous Mods at deancasbigbang for putting this party on. You ROCK!! <3

Summary: The war in Heaven was over and the world was right again. As right as it could be, anyway, considering there were still all manner of monsters and assholes scurrying free across its surface. The All Mighty Father had finally shown his face and cleaned up his mess. Of course, his version of cleaning had been using Dean Winchester as the mighty Swiffer of destruction in Heaven, but hey … it all ended up okay, right?

Only now... Dean finds himself with a houseful of angels that are apparently his, a burgeoning relationship that he as NO IDEA what to do with, and Crowley sneaking about in the shadows. Oh... did he mention that he can somehow heal plants on accident and maybe fix the cracks in plaster by staring at them? Yeah, well... there's that.

CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR

~*~Also posted at AO3 HERE!~*~

~*~PDF is HERE~*~

~*~ If you're not a member of 4shared, just send me an email to:
bunnymaccool at yahoo dot com
and I'll email the PDF to you! :) ~*~

DCBB from last year

bunnymaccool — Fri, 07 Sep 2012 03:56:09 GMT

This is pretty cool y'all ... my DCBB from last year was sited in this blog about why the author ships Dean/Cas. It made me feel all warm and squishy.

right here ... she was very nice

And also... you guys... TEEN WOLF!!! ZOMG!! I AM OBSESSED!!! SO MANY PRETTIES!!! *____*
AND SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO SO SLASHY!!! 8D 8D 8D. (Derek/Stiles pwns me right now!)

DEAN CAS BIG BANG # 2 <3 <3

bunnymaccool — Mon, 20 Aug 2012 00:39:17 GMT

ZOMFG YOU GUYS!!!! THE ARTIST WHO CLAIMED MY DCBB!!! I WAS FLABBERGASTED! I AM SO FUCKING EXCITED RIGHT NOW... I CAN'T EVEN...

*HAPPY DANCE*

"Even a Man Who is Pure in Heart" - CHAPTER SIX

bunnymaccool — Sun, 17 Jun 2012 19:49:43 GMT

The sun was high in the sky by the time Jensen awoke in the morning. Something seemed off, though, and after a couple moments of drowsy stupidity … he realized he was in his own room. He hadn’t greeted the morning in his own room since he’d come here. Always finding himself in Jared’s. He rolled slowly onto his back and tested his wounded arm. There was a slight pull of still-healing skin, but the pain from the night before was all but gone.

A deep ache had settled into his bones again, stronger than the day before, and it took several attempts to pull himself up off the bed. He staggered into the bathroom and immediately started up a hot shower. When he stripped of his sweats and underwear, he also gently unwound the gauze on his arm. There were angry red marks were four teeth had broken his skin, but the skin itself was closed. He marveled at it for only a second before stepping under the spray of the shower.

He took his time rubbing off the grime and blood from the early hours, and then rested his forehead on the tile and allowed the hot water to sluice down his sore back. Fuck. Jared had warned him that his first shift wouldn’t be easy, but if he already felt this shitty when his body was just preparing for it … he was seriously not looking forward to tonight.

“Jensen?”

Jared’s voice was muffled outside the door of the bathroom. Jensen turned off the taps.

“Yeah?”

He pulled back the shower curtain and stepped out into the bathroom … just as Jared opened the door and stepped in. They both slammed to a stop. Jared was fully dressed in his jeans and white t-shirt, barefoot as usual, hair and face neatly groomed and ready for the day. Jensen was naked as the day he was born, wet hair plastered to his forehead and rivulets of water still tracking down his body. Jared swallowed so loud that Jensen could hear the man’s throat click. His hazel eyes were blown wide as they followed the droplets of water on their southward journey.

Jensen couldn’t move, and he honestly couldn’t tell if it was because he was embarrassed … or just waiting to see what Jared would do. Jared’s scent spiked strong and steady into the room and Jensen recognized it for what it was. Arousal. Licking his lips slowly, Jensen took a step forward. The movement seemed to break Jared from his trance and the other man scurried out of the bathroom quick as his feet could carry him.

“Sorry! I’ll just wait out here!”

Jensen sighed and turned to bang his head softly against the wall. What. The Hell. Seriously. Jensen understood that he was new to the whole werewolf thing… and even newer to the gay thing, but shouldn’t something be happening by now? He woke up every morning in the other man’s bed. He followed him around like a lovelorn teenager. He knew the attraction was reciprocated. Jared was the fucking poster boy for LUST when Jensen would catch him giving him the once over. He just didn’t get it.

Throwing a towel around his hips, but leaving himself dripping wet, Jensen sauntered out into the bedroom. Jared’s eyes flew wide again when he saw him, but he quickly cleared his throat and regained his composure.

“How are you feeling?”

Jensen rummaged through his saddle bag and pulled out a clean pair of black boxer briefs. He worked them on underneath his towel, then whipped it off to dry his hair.

“Tired. Sore. Arm’s okay, though.”

He turned back around and smirked when Jared quickly shot his gaze up to meet Jensen’s from where he had been staring … much lower. The towel was unceremoniously tossed into the bathroom. Moving back to his bags, Jensen pulled out his favorite pair of dark gray lounge pants that slung precariously low on his hips, and a plain white tank. Slipping them on quickly, he quirked an eyebrow at Jared, waiting for him to speak. Jared finally smiled, but it was a little strained.

“Big Jim’s here. He wants to talk to you … do you think you can? Without… you know… attacking him?”

Jensen shrugged his shoulders and moved towards the door to his room.

“Guess we’ll find out.”

He sauntered out into the hallway and made his way down the staircase. His bones might ache and his arm might be twinging … but fuck … he felt … strong. Powerful. Defiant. Unbeatable. For a man who had spent the last two years trying to disappear into anonymity and shadows, right now he had the urge to stroll into the middle of the room and shout, “Here I am, mother fuckers! You want a piece of this?”

It might have been the fact that tonight was the full moon. It might have been the fact that last night he had defended his pack against another Alpha. It might have been the fact that he now had a fucking pack to begin with. He couldn’t be sure what was giving him this strange new burst of confidence… but it felt good. There was a strained tension radiating from the living room that spiked when he strode in. His pack was there, along with Jim and a police officer. He didn’t need to scent them, he’d done so in the hallway. The officer’s eyes widened upon seeing him, and he glanced nervously between Jensen and Jim.

For his part, Jim just watched him enter the room with a small knowing smile on his face. And nothing happened. There was no overwhelming need to attack or defend or run away as there had been the first time. In fact … he didn’t feel threatened by the other Alpha at all. Jim stepped up to him and offered his hand to shake. Jensen accepted it readily and the whole room seemed to relax.

“Damn, boy … you’re going to be something else, aren’t you?”

Jensen tilted his head in a silent question, but Jim just smiled and introduced the police officer.

“This is Detective Cohen. Your pack has already filled him in on what happened last night. Is there anything that you want to add to the report? Things like this go straight to the American Werewolf Council, so any little detail might be relevant.”

For his own part, Jensen didn’t even react when Jim referred to the others as his pack. Officer Cohen did seem a bit startled, however. Jensen wondered briefly what the protocol was for a small pack existing inside of a larger one.

“Yeah, I do actually. The Alpha that attacked us last night was the one who bit me a month ago.”

There was a collective gasp in the room, and Jared stepped up to grasp Jensen’s shoulder tightly.

“Are you sure?”

Jensen nodded but kept his focus on Jim.

“Not likely to forget, am I? It was him. And he’s been hanging around here ever since I arrived. I scented him the first day, and a couple times since then, but didn’t know who it was until last night. There’s something else, too … he seemed familiar somehow… but I just can’t place it.”

Jim nodded and Cohen scribbled something down on a notepad.

“Tonight is your first full moon. Keep your pack close to you. Stay near the house. I’ll have the Police patrolling the borders and the woods, and place an alert on the town. Everyone needs to know that there’s an intruder who attacked a resident Alpha.”

A few more pleasantries were exchanged and then Jim and the officer headed back into town. As soon as they were out of sight, Jensen turned on his heels and stomped barefoot out the back door and into the garden. Jared called his name and the pack bustled after him. His feet met the cool grass of the yard and he breathed in deeply as he made his way over to the battleground from the night before. That copper tang was still there, but diluted with time. Jensen sniffed the air and could follow the direction his attacker escaped to. He’d only made it a couple yards before Jared was in front of him halting his movements.

“Jensen. No.”

Jensen growled low in his throat, but Jared held steady.

“I want to find him. I want to rip his limbs off his body and tear out his jugular with my teeth.”

Jared brought his large hands up and framed Jensen’s face with them ever so gently.

“I know. I know, Jen. But you’re not thinking clearly. The full moon is fucking with your head, it happens to all of us. Makes us more aggressive, more territorial. Just wait. Just wait until after we get you through tonight. I promise we’ll find him, okay?”

Jensen pushed forward, trying to side-step Jared, but the other man stopped him. He growled dangerously deep in warning, but Jared responded with a snarl and growl of his own, and Jensen’s wolf reminded him that this was his Alpha. His mate. So he backed down. He whipped out of Jared’s hold and stormed back into the house, pissed off that Jared only chose to act like his mate when it was in his own fucking best interest.

Breakfast that morning was strained to say the least, and Jensen wasn’t really that hungry to begin with. He felt progressively worse as the day rolled on, and afternoon found him lazing in his bed, basking in the cool breeze coming in the window and trying in vain to get comfortable. Everything hurt. His bones. His nerves. His skin. Every once in a while it would feel like his body was trying to shift, trying to change. Sharp spikes of pain would zing through him and he would whimper softly through it. Each time he would curse Jared for not being there, not helping him through this. He hadn’t seen nor scented the man all day, so he obviously had left the premises.

His hearing had become so sharp that he could make out members of his pack moving around downstairs. He could scent Chris, Steve and Danneel … but the rest were gone. He vaguely remembered Misha saying something about patrolling the area with the others, but he had been in the midst of fighting back a wave of nausea and couldn’t really remember clearly.

He must have drifted off for a time, because the next thing Jensen was aware of his room had darkened with the colors of a fading sunset and there was a dark figure standing just inside his window.

“Jared?”

Just as the words had left his mouth, Jensen was assaulted by the sour scent of his attacker. Fuck! He tried to vault to his feet, but found himself weak as a kitten and slammed bodily to the floor. The approach of his first shift had left him feeble and powerless.

“Not quite, I’m afraid. I really didn’t want to do it this way, but you left me no choice.”

The voice was familiar but Jensen just felt so, so tired and he couldn’t even concentrate. There was an odd chemical smell close to his mouth and nose, and he hadn’t even registered the man drawing closer until the cloth was placed over his face. He had no choice but to breathe in, and his already drained body quickly turned to jelly.

He didn’t lose consciousness, could feel himself being picked up and hefted over a broad shoulder … he just was unable to do anything about it. They crawled out through the window, and his captor crept silently along the roof until he hopped down into an area of the yard that was blind to the house. Jensen could hear his pack inside. He could hear his mate’s deep rumbled voice speaking with someone, tight with concern. Jared. God, Jared!

They moved silently towards the tree line, and Jensen could tell that his patrol had just recently been through the area … so they wouldn’t be back by for a good fifteen minutes. Which meant that his captor had been watching them all and waiting for the exact right moment to act. Just as they made it into the shadows of the woods, and panicked howl echoed into the night air. Jensen could tell it was Chris. He must have been doing his own independent patrol … thank God.

The man beneath him cursed softly and took off in a steady run. Jensen gasped as the motion repeatedly jabbed a solid shoulder deep into his gut. There was a clearing up head, and upside down as his vision was, Jensen could still make out the large black SUV they were quickly heading towards. Fuck, shit, fuck! He had to do something! And soon! Give the others a chance to track them down.

Gathering up every bit of strength he could muster, Jensen craned his neck and bit as deeply into the man’s side as he could. Felt the skin break even under the dark t-shirt. His captor yelped and Jensen found himself somersaulting through the air and landing in the damp grass only feet from the vehicle.

“Goddammit! You are a stubborn son of a bitch, aren’t you?”

The man before him turned around, and Jensen knew that dark hair, that beard, that face. Mother fucker.

“Professor Morgan?”

Morgan snarled in warning and stomped toward him, but Jensen could feel the chemical fading away and scrambled back several paces. He was still trying to fit the pieces together in his mind.

“You? You’re a werewolf? You bit me? Why?”

A deep growl reverberated from the older man’s large chest and he surged forward and wrapped a strong hand around Jensen’s ankle.

“Do you know I went into that damn coffee shop every single morning? Every day I ordered something and tried to get your attention, tried to get you to talk to me, and you wouldn’t even give me the time of day.”

Jensen felt his eyes widen impossibly large at the confession, then Morgan was moving. Dragging Jensen back towards the car by his ankle along the slippery grass. He kept talking as if Jensen wasn’t even there.

“Did everything I could think of and couldn’t even get you to look at me. Asked around about you, found out you were that cold and aloof with everyone. But I knew what I wanted. Knew how fucking glorious you would be as a wolf. How strong and beautiful. Then I overheard your coworkers convince you to go camping with them. Figured I would just have to take what I wanted.”

Rage bubbled up inside Jensen and colored his voice.

“So you broke pack law and bit me without permission?”

Morgan burst into laughter and Jensen took the opportunity to kick at the man’s wrist and free himself from his grip. He struggled to his feet.

“Pack law!? I’m an Alpha! Pack law shouldn’t apply to me! Now get in the damn car. Don‘t make me force you to submit to me.”

Jensen growled low and deep.

“I’m not going to submit to you, asshole. I have a mate. I belong to him!”

Morgan’s smile faded and he stepped closer.

“A mate? Some stupid lowly Beta that hasn’t even claimed you yet? That’s not a mate, Jensen, that’s a joke.”

Jensen couldn’t stop himself from reacting. He howled his rage at the insult to his mate and charged the older man. Morgan caught him on the shoulders and slammed him into the side of the SUV. Jensen snarled and snapped his jaws, arms gripping Morgan’s biceps and sinking his blunt nails into the skin as far as they could go. Morgan pulled him forward and them slammed him against the unforgiving metal of the car again. This time Jensen’s skull rebounded of the hard surface and he saw stars for a moment.

“It’s a joke, Jensen! And it’s an insult to me! I sired you for myself! You’re MINE!”

Jensen blinked his eyes a couple times to resettle his vision. Peripherally, he noticed that the sky had darkened to a midnight blue and the stars were beginning to sparkle in the heavens. The full moon would be up in minutes.

“I belong to Jared. I don’t care what you say.”

Morgan snarled in warning, but Jensen continued to speak.

“The moon is almost up, Morgan. What the hell were you planning on doing? Driving as far as you could before we both wolfed out and crashed the car?”

The older man laughed loud and long, and in the process startled the shit out of Jensen.

“You dumb, naïve boy. I’m a Blue Moon werewolf … and so are you. I couldn’t believe my luck when you decided to go camping that particular weekend.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, sweetheart … that we are not subjugated to the whims of the lunar cycle like the rest of our kin. We aren’t forced to shift into that half man, half wolf monstrosity at a full moon unless we want to. Unless we chose.”

There were so many questions still thrumming through Jensen’s brain, but no matter what Morgan said … he could feel his body reacting to the call of the moon … to the shift. But maybe … maybe it was because he wanted to shift for the first time. Maybe, despite the warnings of pain and agony, he was looking forward to it. Finally being able to be a part of his pack. An equal to Jared. A real werewolf.

“Why did you send me here? If you wanted me for yourself … why give me that card?”

Morgan blinked at the abrupt change of topic.

“You surprised the hell out of me, showing up to my office. I wasn’t prepared to confront you yet. Claim you yet. And there are members of the werewolf council at my University, the nosey bastards. I couldn’t take the chance.”

“So you wanted me to head to this secluded town… snatch me up along the way when no one would notice. Not a single person would even realize I was gone.”

Morgan smiled.

“See, sweetheart? I knew you were smart.”

Jensen snarled at the words, but then something in the sky caught his gaze. The full moon was rising. A spark of electricity shot through him and he couldn’t look away from the glowing orb. His gums tingled and his knees shook and something deep inside him wanted to howl into the chilled air. Morgan snatched his jaw with a strong grip and turned Jensen’s face back towards him.

“No. I forbid you to shift tonight. We have to-,”

Dozens of deep howls split the silence of the night, some extremely close by. One in particular sounded full of rage. Morgan cursed under his breath and tried to manhandle Jensen into the car. He pushed and shoved back at the larger man, fighting every inch of the way. Suddenly a low, deadly growl sounded from only yards away, and the struggling men froze.

When Jensen turned his head toward the noise, his jaw dropped. A large werewolf was stalking towards them on two long legs. It was tawny furred and well muscled, with a wolf face that looked like it would normally be sweet and playful, if not for the anger currently contorting the features.

Jared.

Jensen just knew it was Jared. And the sweet scent that wafted toward him proved he was right.

There were a handful of other hulking shapes slowly making their way into the clearing, and he finally breathed a small sigh of relief. His pack had come for him. In his moment of distraction, Morgan managed to shove Jensen into the SUV and slam the door behind him. Before Jensen could even reach for the door to fight his way back out, the older man started to shift into the massive black werewolf that had attacked Jensen all those weeks ago. Staring at him now… Jensen realized just how large Morgan was. Bigger than Jared. Bigger than all the members of his pack. They were going to be hard pressed to defeat him.

Then he noticed something else. The moon was high in the sky and all his pack-mates had shifted. But he hadn’t. Morgan was right. There was a sudden yelp and the vehicle shook. A golden werewolf that had to be Chad went sailing over the hood. His pack needed him. They needed their Alpha.

Jensen lay back on this seat of the SUV and raised his gaze to the sunroof. The moon was just beginning to peek through the opening of the glass. He focused on it and felt that spark travel through his body once more. He demanded the wolf inside to change. Shift. Save the pack. Pain flared to life deep in his bones as he felt them start to pop and lengthen. He bit his lip to keep from crying out, but tears leaked from his eyes. His body was growing and contorting and blazing fire across his nerves. Every single piece of fur that sprang from his skin felt like a needle piercing his flesh, and each bone on his face cracked and morphed outward to lengthen his skull.

The pain was excruciating, and it took him several moments of panting deep lungful of air to even realize that it was done. He had shifted. Jensen opened his eyes and glanced down at his body. It was unrecognizable. Most of his fur was so white that it glowed in the moonlight. Except for his legs and arms which were a warm copper color. He blinked his eyes and twitched his nose, which was now a massive snout protruding from his face. His snout appeared to be the same copper color, but he almost had to cross his eyes to see it.

A pained yelp broke through his shocked stupor, and he remembered that his pack needed him. He pushed on the sunroof with his clawed hands and the glass gave easily to his strength. Clambering up through the tiny hole clued him in on just how massive his body now was. He felt gigantic and heavy and thick with muscle. Finally he hopped to the roof of the car and the vehicle shook slightly under his weight.

The scene before him was chaos. More werewolves were here besides just his pack now, and several of them were already laid out on the grass. In the middle of the fray, the massive black hulk of Morgan was clawing and biting and ripping through people with little effort. It only seemed to take one good solid blow for him to send someone flying. The only one he couldn’t seem to shake off was Jared.

Jared, who was covered in superficial wounds and bleeding heavily from a cut above his eyes. Jensen’s nostrils flared wide at the scent of his mate’s blood.

And he saw red.

The sound that exploded from him was more of a roaring bellow of a male lion than the howl of a wolf, but it was filled with fury and loud enough to rattle the windows of the car he was perched upon. The battle in the clearing ground to an instant halt, all eyes turned quickly upon him, but he only met the silver ones that had haunted him in his nightmares. Jensen roared again and hopped off the SUV to land on the ground with a loud thud. His and Jim’s packs began to slowly back away from Morgan. All except for Jared, who only stepped back a couple of paces.

Morgan answered him with a low growl, and they slowly began to pace circles around each other. Jensen realized with a start that, while Morgan appeared so much larger than all the other werewolves, he and Jensen were about the same size. Jensen snarled and snapped his jaws.

Leave.

Morgan responded in kind.

Make me.

Jensen launched himself at the other werewolf. They collided with a painful jolt in the air and landed with a roll onto the ground. It was a frenzy of claws and kicks and bites as they rolled and tumbled across the grass. Morgan landed a deep gash across Jensen’s belly, and he reciprocated by ripping down Morgan’s side with his claws. The sounds were inhuman, as well they should be, and accompanied by several excited yips and howls from the packs around them.

Morgan unleashed a vicious kick that sent Jensen flying several meters across the ground. He clawed into the earth to stop his momentum and crouched on all fours to growl at the black werewolf before him. Morgan snapped his jaws and puffed up his chest in an impressive display of dominance … and just like that, Jensen understood. The older man wasn’t going to stop, wasn’t going to stay away, until he’d gotten what he’d wanted. He would continue to return and hurt the pack and cause disruption until he claimed Jensen for his own.

The gash across his belly was bleeding steadily, but his strength was still at its peak. Regardless of both these facts … the fight just sort of … went out of Jensen. He sat back on his haunches and relaxed his snarl. The clearing went silent around them. Morgan copied his actions and they stared at each other intently. Jensen wanted to flick his eyes toward Jared, but he didn’t trust what Morgan might do in those few seconds of distraction.

Jensen absolutely did not want to go with Morgan. He had no desire to become the arrogant Alpha’s bitch. But … if Morgan kept coming back … he could eventually kill someone. Maybe even one of Jensen’s pack. Or Jared. And it would be all Jensen’s fault.

Fuck.

If Jared had just claimed Jensen like Morgan suggested… maybe none of this would have happened. But then… maybe Jensen was supposed to initiate the claiming somehow… and he didn’t do it, because he didn’t realize he was supposed to.

There was a shimmer of movement before him, and suddenly Morgan was standing in the field in his human form. Naked and bloody, but with a smirk on his lips.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you? Coming with me and ending all this? I promise I won’t hurt anyone else if you submit to me.”

A large tawny form shot between them, facing Morgan and growling low and threatening. Jensen watched Jared’s display and felt torn. Despite all his previous sexual leanings being to the female side of the spectrum … Jensen had actually been looking forward to see what a relationship with the other man might be like. But if it cost Jared his life … Jensen just couldn’t survive that. Not after everything he had already lost.

It took some effort, and a fair amount of hurt, but Jensen managed to shift back to his human form. He gasped when he was finished and clamped a hand to the wound on his belly that now seemed worse in comparison to his larger body. He calmly walked around Jared so that he could stand before Morgan again.

“What would it take for me to convince you that I don’t want you. Even if you managed to take me with you I would fight tooth and nail before I submitted to you. You would have to kill me. Then what would all of this had been worth?”

Jared snarled and stepped up behind Jensen until he could feel the heat emanating off the werewolf’s massive body. Morgan’s eyes flashed with fire and he sneered.

“You. Belong. To. ME!”

Jensen pulled his upper lip back in defiance and heard Jared growling thunderously behind him.

“You don’t own me. You never did. You broke pack law when you bit me without my permission. You destroyed the life that I had. Maybe if you had told me the truth in your office. Maybe if you had comforted me and assuaged my fears. Maybe then I would have been yours. But instead you sent me here… and I really have to thank you for that, because I found my pack. I found my mate.”

Morgan howled with anger and pointed an accusing finger at Jared.

“That ridiculous Beta is not your mate! He’s a simpleton fool that hasn’t even claimed you yet! He probably doesn’t even know how!”

Before Jensen could even formulate a response, the body behind him was moving. Massive clawed hands gripped his upper thighs, and when Jensen looked down Jared’s impressive jaws were opening wide and then clamping down around Jensen’s hip. The two front incisors were dangerously close to Jensen’s groin, and the back two were poking right into the meat of his ass. Jared’s golden eyes were pleading with Jensen to give his approval. With only a vague idea what was happening, Jensen nodded and instantly those jaws tightened and Jared’s teeth punctured his skin.

Jensen cried out as something close to pain, close to pleasure raced through his system. He could feel rivulets of blood escaping from the wounds, and Jared’s scalding tongue as he lapped them up greedily. All the wolves around them howled with delight save one, the sound he made was much closer to blind rage. Before their eyes Morgan began to shift again, and Jensen raced to catch up. He felt a little lethargic with all the pleasure/pain still hiccupping through his nerves, but he managed to finish his shift mere seconds after Morgan.

Morgan lunged towards Jared, but Jensen intercepted easily. He sank his teeth into Morgan’s shoulder and knocked them both away from his mate. Snarling and growling, Morgan drove his claws deep into Jensen’s belly once again, and Jensen had to release the flesh in his bite to yelp in pain. When Morgan turned to crow his victory Jensen lunged forward and sank his teeth into the solid neck before him. Teeth on either side of the jugular vein and jaws clamped tight.

The werewolf beneath him froze and Jensen growled a low warning. Thick blood was leaking between his teeth, but he didn’t dare break the hold. Morgan shifted once and tried to struggle free, but Jensen slammed him back into the ground and held firm. He wanted to scream ‘give it up! Give it up! I won!’, but settled for a deeper warning growl.

A shot suddenly rang out in the clearing, echoing off the woods and ceasing all movement and noise.

“I think that’s damn near enough of that.”

Jensen couldn’t see who it was walking up to them, but he knew the voice and the scent. Big Jim. The wolf in human form lowered his rifle and pursed his lips in distaste at Morgan.

“Thought you were the only Blue Moon wolf round these parts, boy? Tough luck. So let me tell you how this goes. Jensen won this fight, fair and square. He’s also been claimed good and proper … like he should have been done days ago.”

There was a faint whimper nearby that must have been Jared.

“So now, you’re going to get in your big fancy car and high-tail it outta town. And when I report all of this to the council, you better hope they’re pretty damn forgiving … or you better be so far away that they never find you. Got it? Let him go, Jensen.”

Jim raised his shotgun to level it at Morgan, and Jensen relaxed his jaws and moved away. There was a shimmer of movement and Morgan had shifted back to a man. He glared at Jim, then at Jensen before taking off to his car and pealing away. Jensen watched the red taillights of the SUV disappear into the night, hopefully forever.

“You okay, son?”

Jim caught Jensen’s gaze for a moment, and then pointedly slipped his eyes downward. When he followed the other man’s attention, Jensen was surprised to see the amount of red staining his white fur. He only managed a weak whine before his legs gave out beneath him and he collapsed to the ground. Jared was there in the next second, licking excessively at the wounds on his belly. Jensen gave a pained whimper with each swipe.

“Stay shifted, son. It will help with the healing.”

Everything was a flurry of movement after that. Werewolves were lumbering off in every direction, some with the assistance of a pack-mate. Jensen’s own pack all curled around him to keep him warm as Jared continued to clean the wound. Jim approached one final time and kicked Jared lightly on his flank.

“Make sure you finish the claiming as soon as he’s recovered. I don’t want to have to deal with this shit all over again.”

Jared grunted in affirmation, and the older man disappeared. Jensen closed his eyes and drifted off in a haze. He felt worn out, beat up, mangled and mauled … but all in all … pretty awesome. He had beaten his enemy, been claimed by his mate, and would hopefully survive to tell the tale. Jared’s tongue dug in deep to the largest slice on Jensen’s belly and he keened low in pain. The pack around him shifted at his distress and nuzzled into his fur, and feeling safe at last … Jensen passed out.

When he woke the sun was cresting over the treetops and he and Jared were alone. Jensen still in his werewolf form and Jared back to his human one. The other man was running his fingers thru Jensen’s fur and working at the tangles. Jensen chuffed at him. Hazel eyes instantly swung to meet his gaze and a hesitant smile warmed the handsome face. Jensen’s heart sped up a little at the sight… and he was so fucking gone for this man it was ridiculous.

“Hey. The wounds pretty much closed. Feel any better?”

Jensen flexed his abdominals and only met a slightly tender resistance. He rolled to his side and sat up on his haunches, stared down at the gigantic furred hands that now belonged to him. He felt pretty content actually. There was an odd twitch at his rear accompanied by a soft swishing sound. He turned his head and was stunned to find a large copper tail wagging in the grass. He blinked at it a moment.

“You’re beautiful, you know?”

He turned back to Jared and was pleased to find a healthy blush staining the man’s cheeks. Jensen tilted his head in confusion and Jared chuckled.

“I mean the cream and copper coat? I’ve never seen anything like it. Your ears are tipped with it and your eyes are even copper, like a bright new penny. Most werewolves have gold or silver eyes. It’s pretty awesome. Figures you would be just as pretty as a wolf as you are when you’re human.”

Jensen chuffed a little in embarrassment and glanced away.

“Try to shift down to a wolf. Human’s still not a good idea yet, and I damn sure can’t carry you like this.”

It was getting easier to demand his body to change, so it didn’t take very long for Jensen to feel himself shrinking down to a smaller size. He stood a little unsteady on his four legs, but turned in a slow circle a couple times to get the feel of this new form. Jared laughed beside him.

“Figures you’re still huge.”

Jensen wanted to laugh with his mate, but had to settle for his tail swishing back and forth.

“Come on, let’s see how far you can walk.”

The trek back to the house was slow going. He still felt a little weak and off-kilter, but when Jared had tried to pick him up Jensen had snapped lightly at his fingers. He didn’t want his pack to see their Alpha being carried in like a wounded mongrel. Jared had growled in warning but acquiesced. When they entered the back garden Chris and Steve, in wolf form, bounded up to them. They quickly flattened their ears and dropped their heads low in deference, but Jensen yipped at them happily and they took off like streaks toward the back door.

When they made it to the living room, the whole pack was waiting for their arrival in human form. After each bowed their deference to his position, the girls started to coo about how pretty he was and the men started to recount the highlights of the battle. They each looked all bit bruised and tired … but all were perfectly healthy. Jensen’s heart felt light with his ability to protect his family.

Family.

It struck him like a physical blow.

After so long without … he once again had a family. Jensen wasn’t sure if wolves could weep, but he suddenly felt weighted down with his emotions. He turned from the room and moved towards the stairs, nails clicking echoed sounds off the hardwood floor. He could feel Jared’s presence at his back like a steady heartbeat. The stairs were an annoyance, but when he finally made it to his room, there was his wonderful soft bed just waiting for him. He hopped onto the mattress and turned to face Jared.

“It should be okay to shift now … but let me run you a bath first okay?”

Jensen chuffed softly and eyed Jared’s naked backside as he moved into the bathroom. He supposed he was going to have to get used with exhibitionism in a house full of werewolves. No one seemed to even think about the fact that they walked around naked half the time. Jensen figured it was probably a good thing that he had a decent enough body, then.

“Okay.”

Steam was starting to billow from the door to the bathroom as Jared stepped out. Jensen closed his eyes and requested his body to shift back to human. He felt his bones and sinews stretch and realign and his fur recede, and then he collapsed breathless back on the mattress.

“Damn… that feels so jacked up.”

Jared chuckled and came to stand beside him.

“Can you walk?”

Jensen nodded and gingerly pulled himself to a standing position. Jared had to assist him a little across the floor and into the tub, but it was totally worth it when he sank down into the hot water. He sighed happily and reclined back. Jared reached up to snag Jensen’s bar of soap and lathered it between his hands. Without even asking permission he began to scrub across Jensen’s skin, sluicing off the dirt and blood with the hot water. Jensen couldn’t even bring himself to be embarrassed, just closed his eyes and marveled at the feel of those large hands.

Once he was scrubbed to pink and his hair was washed, Jared helped to pull him from the tub and set about drying him off tenderly. By the time they made it back to his bed Jensen was so sleepy he was stumbling. Jared rolled him under the covers and then tucked him in against the chill from the open window.

“I’m going to clean up. You hungry?”

Jensen mumbled a negative response and slipped off into dreamland. Distantly he listened as Jared left the room and to the sounds of life as his pack tried to regain normalcy. He must have dozed for a bit because Jared was seated on the bed watching him the next time Jensen opened his eyes. He smiled and it was returned just as warmly. Untangling himself from the covers, Jensen scooted up to lean back against the headboard.

“Everything okay?”

Jared nodded and shifted closer. His pupils were blown dark and wide and he was staring at something low on Jensen’s newly bared hip. Hip. Oh! Jensen glanced down and was greeted to the sight of two silvery scars where Jared had left his claiming bite. He lifted his fingers to run the tips across the marks gently. Jared sucked in a breath.

“Are you … are you mad?”

Jensen tilted his head slightly at the nervous words.

“Mad? Jared, I’m not mad. You were driving me crazy with all the mixed signals. I thought you didn’t want me. That you wished you’d never-”

“Fuck no! Jensen! No! I want you! God, I’ve wanted you since I first saw you! I just figured I was taking advantage of the situation. That you didn’t realize what was going on and would hate me for it later.”

He looked so ashamed that Jensen rolled his eyes and chuckled softly.

“Don’t we make a pair, then, huh?”

Jared shook his head and shifted on the bed.

“I’m not good enough for you. You’re an Alpha and I’m-”

“Jared, seriously … shut up and come here.”

The younger man slid cautiously across the bed until he was seated beside Jensen, his knees touching Jensen’s upper thigh. Once again his gaze had fallen down to the claiming mark on Jensen’s hip, so Jensen reached forward to snatch Jared’s hand and lay it across the bared surface.

“You can touch it, Jared. It’s yours.”

Long fingers skated softly over the smooth scar and Jared sucked his bottom lip into his mouth to chew. He slowly moved the touch towards the longer scar that split Jensen’s belly and traced along the edge of it. Jensen hummed in delight at the touch. When their gazes met again, Jared’s eyes were blazing gold, and unbeknownst to him, Jensen’s were a fiery copper.

He wasn’t really certain who moved first, only that finally … finally soft lips were crushed to his and a hot tongue was licking at the seam, begging for entrance. Jensen opened his mouth eagerly and granted passage to the nimble muscle. It laved against the surface of his mouth, and then moved to tangle with his own tongue. Jared suddenly growled deep in his throat and grabbed Jensen by the hips, yanking him down to a prone position on the bed. Jensen gasped through the kiss at the movement, but didn’t protest.

Then Jared was blanketed over him, weight pressing Jensen down into the mattress and this was definitely different from being with a woman. Jared pulled back enough to nip at Jensen’s lips, still rumbling out low growls that sent shivers down to Jensen’s toes. He arched his neck to offer it to his mate, and Jared nibbled down the length of it, sucking a deep bruise into the curve of his shoulder.

“Jared.”

God, his voice was already fucked out. Jared snarled and then snatched the covers off Jensen leaving him bare. Jensen tried to not be too embarrassed by his own rock hard cock, or Jared’s when the other man nearly ripped off his own clothes. Jared was nipping and nibbling all the way down Jensen’s flushed chest and all he could do was writhe against the mattress. When that gloriously hot mouth sucked Jensen’s straining erection down deep without any preamble, Jensen’s back arched right of the mattress and he cried out his pleasure.

“Ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck…”

Jared laughed around his full mouth before he pulled off with a lewd ‘pop’. Then, with pretty relative ease, he suddenly flipped Jensen bodily until he was on his belly, legs on either side of Jared’s kneeling form, and ass apparently up for the offering. He breathed deep as he could and commanded himself to stay relaxed. Everything would be better if he stayed relaxed, he was sure of it. Jared leaned forward to fit his human mouth over the same hip graced with the claiming mark and bit down hard. Jensen gasped and clawed at the sheets beneath him.

He was so focused on those teeth that he didn’t even notice the slick finger probing at his hole until it had already slipped inside. It burned some, but mostly just felt very, very strange. He tried desperately not to think of the significantly larger appendage that was going to be pressed inside soon enough, and concentrated on the licking and sucking Jared was treating his hip to. Another finger slid inside and the burn intensified. Jensen gasped and Jared’s large hand started rubbing soothing circles on his lower back.

“Shh, shh…. It’s okay.”

The fingers pushed deeper then crooked inside him and rubbed over his prostate sending fireworks of pleasure all along his spine and straight to his dick. Jensen moaned and bit the pillow beneath him, arching his back towards the ceiling, and giggling a little when Jared cursed.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous like this. Fuck.”

A third finger pressed inside and that burn and stretch were getting a little addicting. They rubbed his inner walls and tripped over his sweet spot, and Jensen was so hard he could probably pound nails through a two-by-four. Jared was gnawing on the hipbone opposite the bite mark when Jensen had decided he’d just had enough.

“Jared. Come on. Now. ‘m ready.”

Those lovely fingers slipped away and the slick sound of Jared coating his cock echoed in the silent room. Jensen pulled his knees up under him and lifted his ass in the air. His mate swore a blue streak before grasping Jensen’s sore hips and lining the blunt head of his dick up to Jensen’s stretched hole. The pressure of the first push had Jensen keening softly, but Jared soothed him through most of the burn and before he knew it they were flush against each other with Jared buried balls deep inside.

Jensen whimpered at the fullness and the pull on his rim, but it felt good. It felt really good. Then Jared started to move and that blew ‘good’ out of the water. The push and pull friction of Jared’s cock rubbed his prostate in all sorts of nice ways and the slap of skin on skin jerked his balls and dick with instant gratification. Jared’s speed and the force of his thrusts increased and Jensen realized he was mewling loudly and trying to shove back and impale himself harder.

Jesus, fuck … he never knew it could be like this. Jared was growling and biting at Jensen’s shoulder blades and his orgasm just hit him out of nowhere. Jensen wailed his release high and loud, and there was no way anyone in the house missed that. Not that he really cared. Jared was snapping his hips with abandon as Jensen collapsed on the bed. He was pushed forward several inches with the power of Jared’s thrusts but it was only a couple moments before there was a hot pulse of release inside his channel and Jared was groaning and shaking above him.

They collapsed sideways, still sticky and sweaty, with Jared’s slowly softening cock still tucked up deep inside Jensen. They panted roughly together trying to catch their breaths and Jared wound his arms tight around Jensen’s middle. He nuzzled his neck and Jensen sighed with satisfaction. Jared chuckled.

“Not bad?”

Jensen laughed softly.

“Not bad? That was … awesome.”

He could feel Jared’s smile where it pressed against his skin.

“We’re officially a mated pair, you know. Like … married.”

Jensen yawned and turned onto his back, grimacing a little when Jared’s softened cock slipped out. He pressed himself up and down the length of his mate and burrowed his face into Jared’s long neck. His asshole felt tender and swollen, but there was the phantom feeling of Jared still inside him that he thought he could get really used to.

“Married, huh?”

“Yup.”

“That’s cool.”

Jared’s face broke into a wide, dimpled grin and Jensen could only smile softly in return. Two years ago a tornado had taken everything away from him. All that mattered to him, and made him feel whole were lost in less than ten minutes. Four weeks ago an egotistical Alpha bastard who was only concerned with a pretty face cost Jensen everything he had tried to rebuild with his life.

One week ago that same asshole had chased him straight into the arms of Jared Padalecki, who had given Jensen back everything that had been missing in his life since that F5 hit his home town. It wasn’t normal, and it damn sure wasn’t going to be perfect, but this time he was going to grasp it tight with both hands and never let it slip through his fingers again.

And gay sex wasn’t so bad, either. Who knew?

"Even a Man Who is Pure in Heart" - CHAPTER FIVE

bunnymaccool — Sun, 17 Jun 2012 19:48:14 GMT

The next couple of days created a sort of routine. By the time Jensen would head down stairs to scrounge up something for breakfast, most everybody else in the house would be gone. So he would curl up in one of the over-stuffed armchairs in the living room and poor over the reading material Misha had supplied him. Werewolf communities didn’t have much written history or recorded information. It was too risky. The wrong person could find it and tell the world about them. Misha had lectured him for a moment that it was imperative he not leave the material behind anywhere. It was a very surreal Beetlejuice type moment. Jensen had giggled and Misha had rolled his eyes.

Misha explained that while there were no “official” books of history, there were several that werewolves had sneakily published as occult myths and legends books that contained a lot of factual information. So Jensen was soaking it all in and trying to learn as much as possible about his new life.

A couple times a day, he would ignore Jared’s warning and patrol the perimeter of the house. He knew it was probably a bad idea, but couldn’t handle doing nothing all day. He’d never been so unproductive in his life … and it was driving the wolf nuts. He wouldn’t go further than the wrap around porch, though. Once or twice into the back garden to watch the butterflies drift around. Then he would head back inside and continue to go stir-crazy.

Around three or four in the afternoon, people started to drift home. One by one, usually beginning with Chad and ending with Jared and Danneel arriving around six. Then chores would be divvied up. (None of which they would allow Jensen to do.) And dinner would be made. (Not that they would let Jensen help.) When everyone sat down for the meal, no one would eat until Jensen started, and no one would leave until he was done. Then the household would go their separate ways to enjoy the evening watching television, reading, drinking, or who knows what … only to reconvene right before bedtime. Where the next day would be planned and no on would leave until Jensen gave the okay.

He felt like he was living in some kind of bizarre movie. For most of his life he had just been another one of the Ackles. A son, brother, friend and lover. Then he had become a ghost. Drifting through a life that he could barely stand, seemingly unnoticed by everyone around him. Now, he had a house full of people that were beginning to look at him as if he’d hung the moon in the sky. Just because he’d apparently been chomped on by the werewolf equivalent of Superman.

The only odd one out was Jared. Jared didn’t cater or cower to him. (Not that the other’s cowered, mind you… figure of speech and all that.) The exact opposite seemed to be true with Jared. Jensen found himself looking to the other man for approval, for a smile, a grin, a pat on the back. He knew that he was following Jared around like a little lost puppy half of the time, but he absolutely couldn’t stop himself. The man would step inside the door after a long day at work, and Jensen would have to violently suppress the desire to bound over to him and wag his proverbial tail.

Every night Jensen would go to sleep in his own room, his own bed, and every morning he would wake up wound around Jared and clinging like an octopus. For his part, Jared never said anything about it, and Jensen was kind of eternally grateful for that. Although he was curious as hell at the behavior. He just couldn’t bring himself to ask the man in question about it. So he asked Chris.

“It’s a wolf thing, man.”

They were circling their way around the house during their three AM perimeter check that had become a nightly ritual. This time, however, Jensen had asked Chris to shift back to human so that they could talk. He was studiously keeping his eyes above waist level, because Chris was … hello naked.

“What do you mean?”

The shorter man shrugged a shoulder and stopped to watch that same damn ginger cat scurry out from the back porch and take off into the night.

“Well … wolves take pack relationships pretty seriously, you know? And even though we aren’t technically the same, there are similarities. Even though you didn’t really understand what you were doing at the time, you submitted to him and basically told your wolf that Jared was your mate.”

Jensen tripped over his own feet and nearly swallowed his tongue.

“MATE!? What the hell? Just because I was submissive?”

Chris laughed low and warm.

“Naw, son … you two came in the house that afternoon reeking of attraction. If that hadn’t been there already you probably wouldn’t have submitted at all. What you did instead was pretty much tell your wolf that you were the Alpha bitch to Jared’s Alpha male.”

Jensen sputtered and subconsciously crossed his arms over his chest.

“But Jared’s not even an Alpha.”

The smaller man chuckled again and shook his head.

“To us? No … to you? Yes. It’s an all around pretty bizarre situation … but hell … werewolf town. You really gonna be surprised at anything anymore?”

He chewed his bottom lip absently for another moment before stopping to face Chris directly.

“But … mate? Man… that just sounds…”

Chris nodded his understanding and turned his gaze out towards the twinkling lights of the town.

“I know it sounds kinda corny, but its … like … you know how humans like to talk about soul mates? Even though it’s really more about perception and personal beliefs? With werewolves … mates are sort of the same thing. A romanticized ideal. Real wolves in the wild have mates, and often times they do actually mate for life. To us, it’s more like a romance novel. Teenage werewolves swooning at the idea of finding their ‘one true mate’ or some shit, and adults understanding that it’s just a game of chance. You work hard at just finding someone that compliments you and loves you … but in the back of your mind there’s that idea. The mate. The soul mate. The one person you were destined to be with. So we use that term to describe a pairing that seems like … more. Something driven more by instincts then brains. Something like what happened between you and Jared.”

Jensen felt his jaw drop and his eyes widen as he had listened to Chris’ words. Not only because it was probably the most he had ever heard the man utter at one time, but also because it instantly reminded him of his mother. His mom had always said that ‘everything happens for a reason’ and that you would never really understand that reason until you were already smack-dab in the middle of it. She believed in soul mates and destiny and meant to be. If she had been here at this moment and heard Chris’ words, she would have immediately told Jensen that he had meant to be bitten by that Alpha werewolf. That he had been destined to come to Tilbury Falls. Destined to find Jared.

He giggled a little hysterically. It was all a bit much.

Out of nowhere the tabby cat came streaking out of the woods, puffed up and hissing like a mad thing. It dove under the house and Chris and Jensen only had a brief second to ponder at it before that sour tang of copper assaulted Jensen’s nose and something large and black burst from the tree line and headed straight for them.

“FUCK! RUN!”

Chris was shifting instantly beside him when Jensen realized the thing charging him was a massive black wolf … with gleaming silver eyes. He froze for a second and Chris nipped at his knee. They were no where near a door to the house and everyone was asleep. Jensen turned on his heel and took off towards the unlocked back door. He could hear Chris on his heels in wolf form, and he was making loud calls of alarm towards the house. Jensen risked a glance over his shoulder and the black wolf was barreling down on them. They would never make it to the door.

Suddenly Chris spun around and stood his ground, hackles raised and growling. Jensen skidded to a stop. He knew logically that he would be no match for a wolf that size, but he also knew instinctively that he was responsible for Chris’ safety and he couldn’t leave him alone. Lights were popping on all over the house which meant they would have backup soon.

The black wolf slammed straight into Chris and the smaller animal yelped once, but then proceeded to bite and claw with abandon. Jensen took a spare second to glance frantically around the yard for some sort of weapon, and apparently that was all it took for the black wolf to dislodge Chris and send him flying. The next thing Jensen knew, he was being knocked to the ground by a solid wall of furry muscle … and then those familiar silver eyes were glaring at him only inches from his own.

There was no doubt in his mind that this was the Alpha that had bitten him. The beast growled low in warning, as if trying to force Jensen to submit to it. His own lips split into a snarl and a low rumbled growl rose from deep in his chest. He wasn’t submitting to this son of a bitch! He had a mate! He had an Alpha! The wolf seemed taken aback for a moment, and then a blind rage filled those silver eyes and a spike of fear lanced down Jensen’s spine.

Its growl was angry and combative, and Jensen responded in kind. He was prone on the ground with the monster hovering over him, but he wasn’t ball-less god dammit! He was an Alpha, too! The back door slammed open and wolves of all colors piled into the back yard. There was a large, tawny one in the lead with glowing gold eyes and a massive stature. It wasn’t as big as the wolf pinning Jensen down, but it was still significantly larger than the rest. It had to be Jared.

Jensen could tell the instant the big black scented Jared and realized exactly who and what he was. The massive animal snarled in rage and shifted to charge. Not even considering his own safety, Jensen gripped the front legs of the wolf above him, preventing it’s movement. Those silver eyes swung back his way and Jensen growled through his grit teeth.

“You don’t touch him!”

In the next instant, the sharp teeth that had been precariously close to his face before were puncturing deep into his upper arm. Jensen howled in pain and brought his hands up to pull at the jaws clamped on his shoulder. He could hear the echoed howls of rage from his pack in the yard around them. The giant tawny wolf had reached them and had sunk it’s own teeth into the attackers flank. Several others had surrounded them and were snapping their jaws at the large Alpha.

Jensen felt the jaws biting his shoulder start to loosen and slip away and a spike of adrenaline shot through his system. If the wolf released him, it would be free to attack the others. So he ignored the pain and released the jaws in his hands to fist his fingers around a solid, furred neck and hold the head in place. The wolf snarled in frustration and bit down harder in retaliation. Jensen couldn’t help the cry that escaped him and it seemed to send a ripple of fury through his friends. They increased their efforts and latched on where they could. Finally, Jensen brought up his knee to slam into the wolf’s underbelly. He could feel the ribs creak through the fur. He repeated the movement and the wolf pinning him keened slightly.

“If you leave now … we won’t kill you.”

He wasn’t really sure where his bravado had come from, he only knew that he wanted his attacker gone … and all of his pack safe. Jensen almost didn’t recognize his own voice, for that matter, it was a mixture of words and snarls and growls. The nameless Alpha heard, and apparently understood, because with one massive shake of his body Jensen’s pack was sent flying and the jaws were releasing his shoulder. As quickly as he had come, the wolf took off into the night leaving them all stunned for a moment.

Jensen didn’t move from the ground, still panting from exertion as he heard his pack shift back to human around him. And then he realized he had been referring to his housemates as HIS PACK in his head … and his wolf had been determined not to see a single one of them injured in this. And holy FUCK … he really was an Alpha werewolf.

“JENSEN!”

The stars blinking at him merrily from above were blocked out by Jared’s head and shoulders as the man knelt over him. Silhouetted shapes of the other others began to move closer and Jensen allowed his eyes to fall shut, because … again… hello… all naked. Apparently this was the wrong thing to do, because Jared screamed his name again and frantically gripped Jensen’s face between his hands. Jensen opened his eyes to worried hazel ones.

“Oh thank God! Stay awake! You have to stay awake! Stay with me okay? Please stay with me?”

Jensen lifted the hand of his good arm and tangled his fingers in Jared’s hair. He fought to smile at Jared, but was pretty sure all that came out was a pained grimace. Now that the fight was over, his bitten arm was on fire.

“Jared. It’s just a bite. I’m not dying, promise.”

Jared nodded and then started chewing on his own bottom lip in worry. Jensen shifted to sit up and gasped as the pain sent lightening through his nerves. He could tell that his arm was mauled pretty badly, but he just wasn’t ready to look at it yet. He leaned heavily on Jared until the man got the idea and gingerly helped him to his feet. He wobbled a bit, but when he was steady enough Jensen glanced around the yard.

Steve was supporting Chris, who appeared a little bruised, but no worse for the wear. The girls were all standing together with nervous looks on their pretty faces. Misha was eying the tree line as if he didn’t really trust it was over. And Chad was standing behind Jared staring straight at Jensen with a shit-eating grin on his face. As soon as Jensen met his gaze, Chad whooped out loud.

“That was fucking awesome, man! Dude! We’re going to be the most bad-assed of packs ever! Our Alpha beat another Alpha before he could even shift! We’re gonna be legen-fucking-dary!”

Jared tensed against Jensen and everyone else froze. Maybe it was taboo to call yourselves a pack before the Alpha gave the permission, but it wasn’t as if Jensen cared. He had already termed them that in his own mind anyway. He realized that everyone was waiting for his reaction to the words, so he slowly reached forward and scratched Chad behind the ear like you would a puppy. Chad looked mortified, Jensen chuckled, and the rest of the pack let out a collective breath. Jared grabbed Jensen’s good arm and wound it around his own neck to support him.

“Chad. Get the first aid kit up to Jensen’s room, please? And-”

“Duuuude… you know the sight of blood makes me sick, right? Can’t Mish-”

Jensen snapped loudly, adding a growl to his tone.

“Chad. Kit. Now.”

The blonde took off like a jack-rabbit muttering a quick ‘yes, Alpha’ under his breath. Jensen turned to the rest of them. If there’s one thing he had noticed about this group of people, was that not a single one of them seemed inclined to step up and take charge when the situation demanded it.

“Steve, get Chris to room. Figure out if he needs medical attention.”

“Yes, Alpha.”

“Danneel, whoever we need to contact. The police, Jim … whatever.”

“Yes, Alpha.”

“Misha, girls … shift and patrol the perimeter until the authorities arrive.”

“Yes, Alpha!”

Jensen watched people and wolves scatter and thought … maybe this is why packs still need Alphas. He turned to Jared, and the other man was staring at him aghast … with the strangest look on his face. Jensen quirked an eyebrow and Jared shrugged off his stupor and blushed. He turned his gaze to his feet and began to maneuver them slowly towards the house. Jensen had never seen the man appear so shy before.

“Jared? What?”

The taller werewolf shook his head and laughed deprecatingly at himself for a second.

“At the risk of getting my head snapped off … um … it’s just that … that was really hot.”

Jensen’s face instantly flamed up to match Jared’s and they walked the rest of the distance to his room in silence. Chad was waiting for them with a bowl of warm water, clean towels and the first aid kit. They helped Jensen cut away his ruined shirt, and then lay prone on a towel-covered bed. Jared cleaned the wound slowly, having to carefully pull out little bits of fabric from the ruined shirt.

“The good thing is, since tomorrow night is the full moon, you’ll heal a lot faster. Most of the wound should be gone before you shift. I hope so at least … it’s going to be hard enough on you the first time.”

Jensen hummed a response, but his energy was draining quickly. He had been tired all day, a strange sort of ache deep in his bones, and now after the fight and subsequent victory … he just wanted to sleep.

“Go ahead. Get some rest. We’ll be okay.”

Jared’s voice was warm and pleasant in his ear. Jensen was out before he could even formulate a reply.

"Even a Man Who is Pure in Heart" - CHAPTER FOUR

bunnymaccool — Sun, 17 Jun 2012 19:46:58 GMT

Jensen awoke on something heavily cushioned and warm. His jacket, leathers and boots were gone, and he could feel the cool waft of a breeze from a window nearby. Whispered voices washed over him from not too far away. He recognized one as Jared.

“I just don’t think I should have done that.”

“Dude, it was fucking awesome!”

“No, it really wasn’t.”

There was a heavy sense of unease in Jared’s voice and it made Jensen’s stomach clench painfully. Obviously the conversation had something to do with him. Probably the other man was regretting ever allowing Jensen to come here. Probably wishing he’d let that SUV just grab him and be done with it.

“Why wasn’t it awesome, man? You slammed down an Alpha! You actually made an Alpha submit to you! It was kinda so beyond hot that it made me question my straightness for like… two seconds!”

“For fuck’s sake, Chad, will you listen to me? It wasn’t acceptable … it’s just not … done!”

Chad. So this was the golden wolf he had first met in the woods. The heavy sense of sarcasm that Jensen had gathered from the beast actually translated pretty perfectly to the voice and words he was hearing now.

“Jay, man … neither is attacking some poor shmuck and biting them against their will, or attacking another Alpha inside his own territory … but this unlucky bastard is just breaking all sorts of taboos, isn’t he? What’s the big deal?”

“I don’t know. I’m used to helping runaway strays, or helping loners adjust to the pack. This is so beyond my level of expertise it’s not even funny.”

“Well … you better make it your expertise pretty quick there, bud. Because this dude is going to be counting on you for his survival. And like Big Jim said, he submitted to you … that makes him all yours. Good, bad or indifferent.”

“I know.”

“Doesn’t hurt that he’s smoking hot, eh you perv?”

A loud smack resounded in the air, and Chad howled with laughter before drifting further away. The soft tread of Jared’s bare feet slowly moved closer to Jensen’s position. He concentrated hard on keeping up the ruse of sleep, even when the surface he was laying on dipped as Jared sat down beside him. The other man sighed heavily and Jensen had an instant dislike for the despondent noise. The new instincts that were at war with his human sensibilities demanded that he do something to cheer the man beside him up. The warmth and scent that was pooling off Jared had his insides all twisted up in knots. Jensen had no idea what his own wolf was telling him to do, so he simply gave up and allowed those instincts to take control.

Immediately, his body rolled over to practically curl around Jared’s hip and thigh. His nose ended up smashed against a denim clad knee, but he continued to feign sleep and breathed in deeply. That wonderful, wonderful scent shot waves of delight down his spine. His brain was tingling on a high from its nearness. Doing happy little dances and singing ‘Mine! All mine!’ in a high falsetto voice.

And yeah… he really wasn’t ready to think about any of those things right now.

“What am I going to do with you, Jensen?”

The words were spoken so softly, that if Jensen hadn’t already been awake, he would have slept soundly right through them. A warm hand was suddenly smoothing over his scalp, bristling his hair back away from his face. It was eerily similar to when Jim had been petting him before. He shifted under the pleasant sensation, and then slowly blinked his eyes open.

Jared was leaning partially over him with a small smile gracing his lips. Jensen met his gaze steadily and had the strangest urge to beat a nonexistent tail against the mattress in contentment. Contentment was an emotion had hadn’t felt in such a long time, that it honestly took him several moments to recognize it for what it was.

“How are you feeling?”

The other man’s voice was still soft and whispered in the semi-darkness of what appeared to be a bedroom. Jensen’s human brain chose that moment to point out the intimacy of the moment, along with the fact that he currently had his head pillowed on a man’s knee, who was stroking his scalp gently, and they were alone … on a bed. His wolf brain squealed with glee and kicked the human one to the curb.

Odd how he was starting to differentiate between the two. Perhaps he was actually going insane. Would have been a long time coming, tell the truth.

“Jensen?”

He had forgotten that Jared asked him a question. He pursed his lips in thought, and didn’t even allow himself to be disturbed that he liked how Jared’s gaze instantly shifted to his mouth.

“Um … I think I’m okay.”

Jared’s eyes flicked back up to meet his and he smiled.

“That’s good. Do you remember what happened?”

Jensen started to nod his head, then realized he was basically just rubbing his cheek on Jared’s knee with the motion.

“I remember everything until I passed out. I just couldn’t … control … it … the … the wolf.”

Jared hummed a pleasant tone of understanding.

“It will get easier. I promise. Once you learn that you and the wolf are actually one and the same.”

Jensen snuffled quietly and closed his eyes. He was lost in the strength and security of Jared’s presence.

“Can you tell me what exactly happened? Why did I react like that? I remember what everyone was saying around me … but I still don’t understand. What did Jim mean when he said Alpha?”

The hand in his hair stilled for a couple seconds before it continued its stroking motions.

“Well … you know how wolves have Alphas, Betas and Omegas, right? Werewolves used to be the same, back when we were closer to our origins. The last several generations, though, Alphas have all but disappeared.”

“Why?”

“Not sure really. The most accepted theory is that we really don’t need them any more. With modern times and beliefs, werewolves have managed to fade into the background of the worldwide culture. We’re fictional characters. Legends. Myths. We really don’t need Alphas to lead us and protect us anymore. Modern werewolves don’t even differentiate between Betas and Omegas any longer. We’re just all werewolves.”

“Then why are Alphas still such a big deal?”

Jared hummed under his breath and shifted so that his hand moved lower to rub up and down Jensen’s spine. He arched into the touch unconsciously.

“Just because of their rarity, really. And they still are the strongest of us. We respect them and admire them because it’s ingrained into us … and they are usually very deserving of that respect. Usually, they will be the Mayor of the community, or an equivalently important role. Jim’s the Mayor here in Tilbury. He’s also the oldest wolf in residence.”

That caused Jensen to open his eyes. Jared’s gaze was tracking his hand as it moved across Jensen’s back.

“Why is that?”

The larger man chewed his lower lip for a moment, and Jensen watched with interest as his gaze moved down Jensen’s back to ogle his ass.

“Jared?”

Hazel eyes snapped back to his, and a slight blush spread across those tanned cheeks.

“Um … see … Tilbury is different from other werewolf towns. The founding Mayor wanted it to be a place for wolves without a pack to find a home. Anyone and everyone is welcome, as long as they follow the rules. Basic pack rules. Most of the town is populated by runaways and outcasts. We make our own home here. It’s a good place for a second chance.”

Jensen chuckled darkly.

“How about a third one?”

Jared titled his head to the side and frowned. His long fingers came up to trace along the wrinkles at the corner of Jensen’s eyes.

“You used to laugh and smile a lot. You don’t any more?”

“No.”

“What’s your story, Jensen? Will you tell me?”

It took a lot of effort, but Jensen pulled away from Jared and pushed himself up to a sitting position in the middle of the bed.

“What’s going on here? Between us? Why do I feel like I’m supposed to do anything you ask of me? I don’t even know you.”

Jared didn’t call him on his obvious change of subject. Instead he pulled himself up further onto the bed and scooted closer to Jensen, their knees ended up touching denim to denim.

“You said yourself … you lost control. Someone needed to get you to calm down.”

“And to do that … Jim told you to put me in my place.”

It was phrased as a statement, but it was clearly a question. Jared licked his lips and dropped his gaze to his own hands, folded in his lap.

“It’s kinda like … when you see adult dogs correct their puppies. Make them understand that enough is enough, they aren’t in charge. They aren’t the biggest on the block. Your wolf is still young. It wouldn’t have worked if you had been a full-fledged Alpha and I had tried to do that. You probably would have ripped me apart.”

Jensen swallowed harshly.

“Okay… okay … I get that … but instead you made me submit to you, right? So what does that mean?”

Jared looked decidedly uncomfortable and flushed. Suddenly he seemed to have an issue with meeting Jensen’s gaze. He chuckled nervously before speaking.

“It … uh … it’s kind of like … I made myself your Alpha. Even though I’m not one … technically.”

“Made yourself my Alpha…”

He felt his eyes go wide as a realization slammed home into his brain. A slightly hysterical giggle burst from Jensen’s lips.

“Jared… Jared… did you make me your bitch?”

A deep crimson blush plumed across the other man’s face and Jensen burst into laughter. He fell backwards on the bed and roared in hysterics. Tears rolled down his face and his stomach clenched with spasms, but Jensen just couldn’t stop laughing. Because, seriously … his life. His fucked up life.

Out of nowhere and deep growl of irritation echoed through the room and Jensen froze. His new instincts screamed ‘Show your belly! Show your belly!’ so he rolled onto his back and went boneless. There was a thunderous scowl on Jared’s face, but the light of humor in his eyes, and Jensen sneered good-naturedly.

“Oh, fuck you!”

Jared threw back his head and laughed out loud. The long line of his neck caught Jensen’s gaze … and he really needed to spend some time thinking about his sexuality, because damn. He couldn’t be sure if it was the newly submissive wolf’s reaction, or his alone, but the attraction was there and it was new and scary. Jared rolled gracefully off the bed and onto his feet.

“Come on … let’s go get you some food.”

Jensen copied his movement but paused when he was standing before the other man. He had obviously noted Jared’s size the instant he’d hopped out of his truck, but that was just peripherally … and absent observation. Now, thinking about it … and being confronted with the broad shoulders and massive chest straining behind the man’s shirt, brought whole new ideas to Jensen’s imagination. Somewhere along the lines of ’he could totally pick me up and slam me into a wall’ … and that shouldn’t really be as potentially hot as his libido was finding it.

He was so lost in his own newly discovered big gay ponderings, that he didn’t even realize Jared had called his name twice. Then a quick, sharp growl split the air and Jensen all but fucking snapped to attention. Jared was looking at him oddly, so he just shrugged his shoulders indifferently and sucked his bottom lip into his mouth to chew. Jared turned and moved towards the door. Jensen followed without even thinking about it … like he was bound by an invisible leash.

They made their way down a beautiful wooden staircase, and Jensen could hear conversations taking place nearby. Jared sent a worried glance over his shoulder as they neared the same dining room Jensen had previously lost his shit in … but he was feeling calm and under control. He could still smell all the wolves in the vicinity, but Jared’s scent blanketed everything and brought that feeling of security with it.

For the second time that day, all sound and movement halted when they stepped into the room. This time, however, Jensen felt none of the panic and fear as the first and could actually look around the table at the people seated there. Four men and three women. All ridiculously attractive. And no Jim to be seen. Jensen flared his nostrils wide and breathed them all in. It was a very pleasant mixture of scents. The seven werewolves in the room copied his action and all scented him right back.

Jared cleared his throat, but the focus of the room remained on Jensen.

“Okay, well … guys… this is Jensen. Jensen, that’s Chris, Steve, Danneel, Misha, Sandy, Genevieve and Chad.”

Jensen followed along as Jared named the people seated at the table. Chris was leather and soap guy from earlier, and Misha was wisteria and snow. Steve had long, sun-bleached hair and an open friendly face. He smelled like mesquite wood and wheat. Danneel was a curvy red-head with a steely gaze and the scent of honey and lime. Sandy and Genevieve were both petite, delicate looking brunettes with pretty smiles and laughter in their eyes. Sandy was warm sugar and honeysuckle. Genevieve was peppermint and tilled earth.

“What’s up, Bieber-fever!”

And then there was Chad. The familiar peppery smell, laced now with lemon and ginger, that Jensen had first been greeted with upon entering pack land. The human version had short blonde hair and exotically slanted eyes. He was seated closest to where Jensen was standing, and reached out a hand to smack Jensen on the upper arm in greeting.

Jensen snarled and twisted away from the movement, snapping his teeth only centimeters from Chad’s fingers. He hadn’t even realized he was going to react to the motion, but he had released the wolf to follow its instincts.

“Whoa, dude! What’s your problem?”

There were a couple snorts and scoffs around the table, but Danneel was the one who spoke up, voice thick with annoyance.

“Don’t be a moron, Chad. He didn’t submit to you … you can’t go around smacking an Alpha, for fuck’s sake. Even a new one.”

Chad rolled his eyes and slouched back into his seat.

“Whatever, man.”

A new, faint scent breezed by on the air and Jensen lifted his nose slightly. It didn’t smell like any of the wolves around in the house. It wasn’t even Jim for that matter, who had scented of fresh tomatoes and warm bourbon. This new smell had a sour tang like rusted metal or copper. It had wafted through one of the open windows, and Jensen turned toward the portal for a better inhale. He had an immediate dislike for the scent and it sent a chill down his spine. He must have made a noise of discontentment, because the room silenced again and Jared turned toward him.

“Jensen?”

Jensen took a step closer to the window.

“Did you smell that?”

Jared stepped closer to the window, and Chris hopped up from his seat at the table to join them. He could tell the two other men were trying to scent whatever it was Jensen was smelling, but they didn’t seem to catch it. It was fading on the wind, too. As if someone had been standing outside, but was now gone. Chris stuck his whole head out the window and breathed deep.

“What did it smell like?”

Jensen shrugged his shoulders and tried to catch it again, but the smell had dissipated.

“Dunno… something sour and sharp. I didn’t like it.”

Chris made a non-committal noise and returned to his place at the table. Jared placed a hand gently on Jensen’s shoulder and pulled his attention away from the window.

“You hungry?”

Jensen nodded and followed Jared’s lead to pull up a chair to the table. He seated himself to Jared’s right and was a little surprised when a plate piled high with meatloaf, mashed potatoes and green beans suddenly appeared. He blinked and turned to face Sandy, who had deposited the meal before him. There was an eager and hopeful look on her face, and it took him a moment to realize she was waiting for his approval. He nodded and told her thank you and she appeared to nearly burst apart with joy.

Jared cleared his throat, and when Jensen turned toward the other man he realized no one at the table was eating. They were all staring at him. Jared pointedly glanced down to Jensen’s plate and raised an eyebrow. Slightly confused by it all, Jensen snatched up his fork and shoveled a load of mashed potatoes into his mouth. Instantly the table broke into motion, everyone devouring the food set before them. His stomach rumbled a reminder of its desire at the first bite, and soon Jensen was joining them gleefully.

Dinner passed quickly and fairly silently. Afterwards, Chris and Steve moved out to the porch to sit on some rockers and sip at some beer. Jared followed them soon after, and Jensen trailed right behind him. They sat a little apart from the others, sharing a swing and staring out at the star-scattered night sky. Jensen took a long pull at his beer, and then licked the taste off his lips.

“Why wouldn’t they eat?”

Jared didn’t turn towards him when he spoke, just continued to gaze out into the darkness.

“Instinctively ingrained into them. No one eats before the Alpha.”

Jensen’s brows shot up towards his hairline.

“But … you said yourself… I’m just a puppy. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing or why… why would they do that?”

Jared shook his head slightly, and his hair shifted with the movement.

“Doesn’t matter. An Alpha is an Alpha. And when other wolves are around an Alpha, we just can‘t help it. They’re going to look to you for certain things as long as you stay here. Hell, Sandy’s probably going to be a nightmare to live with since she was the first to garner your approval.”

The larger man chuckled and resumed sipping on his beer. Jensen returned to gaze to the stars and considered the entire situation. It was all pretty surreal … but after the other things that had befallen him in his lifetime … it didn’t seem too large a change to adjust to. He was a werewolf now. Well okay then. He was apparently going to be a powerful and influential one. Well, sure. He had somehow managed to tie himself to the man next to him. Why the heck not?

He leaned back further into his seat, and then kicked out with his legs to send the swing sailing backwards. Jared sputtered and laughed into his beer, and Jensen felt something settle tightly inside his chest. So be it.

The evening ended with a group discussion of schedules for the following day. Chris and Steve ran a mechanic shop and a used car dealership in town. Misha taught at the school. Genevieve and Sandy owned the only clothing retail shop in the town, and Danneel served at the City Hall. Chad referred to himself as a Renaissance man, but Danneel quickly corrected him with a sharp ‘lazy unemployed leech’. Jared worked for City Hall, as well, running events and several city services. He promised Jensen that they would find somewhere for him to work as soon as he made it past the full moon in four days.

Once everyone was done making small talk and electing chores for the next day, a silence fell over the crowded living room. Jensen had been concentrating on the room furnishings, and not really paying attention to the gathering until Jared nudged him with his elbow. Again all eyes were on him, but this time he couldn’t figure out exactly what they wanted. Next to him, Jared cleared his throat.

“Time for bed, Jensen?”

Jensen nodded distractedly and everyone scattered. Seriously. Fucking surreal. Jared lingered until they were alone.

“I’ll show you to your room, okay?”

They trudged up the stairs and Jensen was shocked to realize how completely exhausted he suddenly was. Jared herded him into a small bedroom with a large bed, a small dresser, and his saddle bags and backpack piled on the floor. His jacket, leathers and boots were stacked nicely on an ornate rocking chair in the corner. The room was a soft powder blue and had a large picture window facing the front yard. There was a tiny attached bathroom tucked into the corner which was basically a toilet, sink and minuscule shower.

Jensen flopped face first down on the bed and was pleasantly surprised at its softness. He was already drifting off into dreamland when he heard Jared ‘tsk’ and felt a tug at his pants leg.

“Don’t sleep in your clothes, man. Get comfortable.”

He groaned and rolled onto his back with a Herculean effort. With a little difficulty he popped the button of his jeans and started to shimmy out of them. Jared chuckled from the foot of the bed and tugged at the pants to help with the effort. Finally, they slid off and then Jared’s warm hands were slipping off Jensen socks as well. Jensen’s eyes had slipped closed midway through, and he couldn’t really muster the effort to open them again. Jared patted his foot softly.

“If you need anything, I’m right across the hall, okay?”

Jensen grunted in affirmative, but was already so close to sleep that the words barely registered. He was asleep before Jared even flicked off the light and shut the door. He hadn’t slept well in the weeks since his attack, always on edge and waiting for the other shoe to drop. Now, here, in this house and surrounded by these people … he felt the safest he had in ages. He slept the sleep of the contented dead.

For about three hours.

He wasn’t sure what woke him up, just that something was off and he needed to discover what it was. Jensen rubbed the sleep from his eyes quickly before he silently slipped from the bed and edged his way over to the open window. He could see the front garden, softly illuminated by the porch light. There was a slight breeze and he took a deep breath. He got the odd mix of smells from the town, carried into the house on the wind, and the stronger scents of those that lived here.

That bitter copper tang was there again, but further away. Not as close to the house as it had been before. Still, there was this itching need to head outside, and Jensen allowed it to carry him to the window. Likely, it was the factor that he hadn’t fully shaken off the dredges of sleep that he didn’t even think about the fact that he crawled out a second story window barefoot and hopped the fifteen feet to the ground effortlessly.

His toes curled into the dewy grass as he stretched his arms up over his head. Taking another deep whiff of the air brought the pleasant mixture of leather and soap that indicated Chris was nearby. Jensen stopped fighting the yawn that had been knocking and allowed his mouth to stretch wide with it, cracking his jaw. Sure enough, a couple seconds later a chocolate brown wolf padded up to him out of nowhere and settled by his side.

“Hey, Chris.”

The wolf chuffed at him and Jensen rolled the tension out of his neck for a moment. He had the sudden urge to walk the perimeter of the house, so he let himself go with it. Chris followed dutifully behind, golden eyes constantly shifting to observe their surroundings. At one point the wolf let out a low growl and an orange tabby cat shot out from under the steps to take off into the woods. Jensen chuckled.

“What kind of masochistic fucking cat lives in a werewolf town?”

Chris made an odd noise that closely resembled a laugh, and without even thinking about it, Jensen reached down and patted the wolf on the head. As soon as he’d done it, he worried that Chris might snap his fingers off, but the wolf simply trotted ahead of him back towards the front door. Once they were back inside, Chris disappeared into the darkness of the house and Jensen quietly made his way up the stairs.

He stopped outside the door to his bedroom. The warm cinnamon and nutmeg scent of Jared was lingering in the space between their rooms. When Jensen finally stepped inside his own bedroom, the other man was pacing back and forth before the open window. Immediately upon his entrance, Jared had whipped towards him, and then sagged with relief.

“Jesus, fuck … thank God. What in hell were you doing outside?”

Jensen shrugged a shoulder and slowly moved towards his bed.

“Checking the perimeter with Chris … I think.”

“You think?”

Jensen chuckled and flopped belly first onto his mattress.

“Yeah. I’m kinda just letting instinct rule right now. And it wanted to go outside.”

Jared sighed and rubbed at his face with both hands. For the first time Jensen realized the taller man was wearing nothing but a worn gray pair of sleep pants that were so low slung they barely covered his dignity. The planes and dips of Jared’s quite impressive musculature stood out in stark relief in the muted light of the room. Jensen was aware enough of himself and his own mind to admit he found the other man stunning. Now, he wasn’t sure if that was because of the submission … or if the submission just amplified it.

“Jensen… please… try and stay in the house at night.”

“Why? Is it not safe?”

Jared sighed again, this time taking a step towards the doorway.

“Of course it is. It’s just … you don’t have the ability to shift yet, so you couldn’t protect yourself against another werewolf right now. Plus, we still don’t know what the hell that car chasing you was all about. So, if you could just … keep to the house? For just a couple more days?”

Jensen sighed and nodded his affirmative. He watched the broad expanse of Jared’s back as the man moved across the room and out the door, as whispered ‘good night’ following him. Jensen burrowed his head into the soft pillows of his bed and tried to relax once again. There were just so many changes in his life to take into account. And, sort of hysterically, the werewolf thing seemed to be the least crazy at the moment. He chuckled at the thought and allowed himself to drift into slumber.

When he woke in the morning he was curled around Jared in a room that … wasn’t his. Pale green walls were painted with spots of warm yellow sunshine, and the sounds of morning birds drifted in through the window. His face was smashed into Jared’s hip, and his arms and legs were twined around one of Jared’s ridiculously long ones. He stared at the bare skin before him for a couple moments, blinking in confusion, until he shifted to glance up at the other man.

Who was wide awake and eyeing him with a fair amount of humor in his eyes and a smile fighting to break free on his mouth. Jensen blinked at him.

“Comfortable?”

He could feel his face flush with embarrassment and licked his dry lips.

“Um … how did I get here?”

Jared chuckled.

“You tell me. You were there when I woke up.”

Jensen slowly untangled himself from the other man and scooted off the bed.

“Last thing I remember was you walking out of my room.”

Jared ‘hmmed’ and rolled gracefully to his feet. He reached his arms up to the ceiling and arched his back with a happy moan of someone who had just achieved stretching nirvana. Jensen’s human brain informed him that many straight men could look at another man and find him attractive. It didn’t have to actually mean anything. Jensen’s wolf brain kind of just wanted to hump his leg. And the wolf brain was winning.

Jensen high-tailed it out of the room and straight into a cold shower.

"Even a Man Who is Pure in Heart" - CHAPTER THREE

bunnymaccool — Sun, 17 Jun 2012 19:44:56 GMT

The first thing that struck him as they neared the town was the virtual tsunami of scents that wafted through the car. Jensen felt like his nose and brain were shifting into overdrive just to catalog and separate the different smells. The peppery scent from the woods was still there, but there were so many others mixed in. He didn’t even realize that he’d leaned his head out the window to catch a deeper inhale until Jared chuckled at him.

“It’s a little overwhelming, isn’t it?”

Jensen grunted in affirmation before he flared his nostrils and breathed deeply once more. The town of Tilbury Falls itself seemed fairly small. There seemed to be maybe only a dozen blocks of buildings that made up downtown, all centered around a gorgeous gothic town hall that was at least a hundred years old. The streets directly around it were lined with old brownstone brick stores with dates in the 1800’s all marked in their gables.

His mom would have called the town ‘quaint’. In the five minutes since they passed the city limits he’d seen a dozen antique shops and just as many café’s. There weren’t as many people as he would have imaged on the streets, but when they did pass one or two … he scented them and realized he could immediately tell if they were wolves or humans.

“Most of the humans here have no idea what kind of town they’re in. They’re usually tourists stopping through for the shops or food. Any human that takes up residence usually knows what they’re getting into. We try and discourage those that don’t.”

Jensen finally pulled his head back inside the car.

“Less chance of something bad happening?”

Jared’s gaze flicked over to him for a brief second.

“More like less chance of us being exposed.”

Jensen nodded and slouched down further into his seat. The longer they drove through town, the more he noticed gazes turning his way. He could make out people scenting him from all the way across the street.

“So … everyone smells different, huh?”

The other man chuckled warmly.

“Yeah … it’s kind of like your wolf thumbprint. How you can tell who’s who and were they’ve been.”

Jensen nodded and licked his dry lips.

“So, they can all smell me? Smell that I’m a stranger?”

Jared cleared his throat and turned the truck out of the downtown area, heading towards the west of town.

“Yeah.”

“That’s why you didn’t want me to come into town on my own?”

“Yeah. I mean … it’s not like the old days, when a lone wolf would have been killed on the spot or something. We’re actually civilized now, you know. No matter what popular entertainment likes to tell you. It’s just better when there’s already a member of the pack present. Less apprehension that way.”

He would be a liar if he didn’t admit that Jared so flippantly speaking about someone being murdered didn’t send a pit of cold fear straight down into his gut, but Jensen still found himself trusting him. He just hoped it was the right call to make, and that he wasn’t being deluded by the absolutely delicious smell of the man. And speaking of his scent, Jensen was desperately curious about something.

“Hey, Jared?”

There was a quick flick of eye movement at this question, but Jared’s gaze never really left the road before them.

“Yeah?”

Jensen pursed his lips in thought for a moment, then figured ‘fuck it’ and just outright asked.

“What do I smell like?”

Jared actually sputtered and blushed a little, which was highly amusing.

“Uh … we … we don’t actually usually ask other people that.”

Not the answer Jensen was expecting.

“Why not?”

There was still a heated flush to Jared’s face, and he refused to meet Jensen’s eyes.

“It’s just … I don’t know … it’s just not done.”

Jensen shrugged his shoulders absently and leaned back against the headrest.

“Hmm… well … you smell like cinnamon and nutmeg. Makes me think of my Gran’s spice cake recipe. It’s nice.”

There was silence in the cab of the truck for several moments. The buildings of the town had given way to woods, with the occasional house thrown in. Jensen closed his eyes and briefly contemplated his Grandmother. He’d lost her long before the tornado. She’d been the last grandparent he’d had, and quite honestly … his favorite.

She’d always called him her ‘little jewel’ because she had loved his green eyes so much. He lost count of the times she would sit him down and tell him that he was destined to be something special. Something wonderful. He wondered what she would have thought about his life now. What he was going to become in a weeks time. A monster.

“You know how grass smells fresh and clean after a spring shower? Like mother nature has just washed away the grime of the world … and there’s this crisp, sweet new start to it all?”

Jared’s soft rumble had broken Jensen from his musing, but he considered the man’s words a moment before he spoke.

“Yeah?”

Eyes glued resolutely to the road before them, Jared smiled … just a little.

“That’s how you smell.”

Heat immediately flushed across Jensen’s face, and he knew without even looking in the side mirror that he was blushing something fierce. It suddenly seemed like way too intimate a conversation to be having with a virtual stranger. He watched, though, as Jared’s nostrils flared slightly … as if he was taking in more of Jensen’s scent. Without even thinking about it consciously, Jensen reciprocated in kind. Grabbing a deep inhale of that warm, spiced scent that tickled his gums and sent a pleasant curl of something straight down to his belly.

They didn’t really speak again until the truck rumbled up an old dirt road that ended in front of a giant two-story Victorian home, painted a bright sunny yellow. Jared killed the engine and then shifted to face Jensen.

“Here we are. Home sweet home.”

Jensen eyed the house as he slowly opened the door and hopped out of the cab. The trim was white with splashes of electric purple accenting some of the more ornate decorations. The double doors at the entrance were purple as well. A large porch wrapped around the entire lower level of the house and there were hanging baskets filled with flowers just about everywhere a hook could be attached. It was … nice.

“The flowers are all the girls doing … I have a black thumb, seriously.”

They shuffled around the back of the truck to let down the tailgate. Jared hopped up into the bed and they slowly worked the motorcycle back out of the truck.

“Girls?”

Jared nodded and grunted as they finally got Jensen’s old girl back on terra firma.

“Yeah… the pack jokingly calls this the Frat house … but we refer to it as the singles bar.”

A soft laugh caused Jared’s broad shoulders to shake just slightly and Jensen swore he could feel an accompanying shiver all the way to his toes. He wasn’t sure what the hell was happening here between himself and this giant of a man … but he wasn’t going to argue. Couldn’t really … he didn’t have anything else going for him at the moment.

“Basically, it’s just a giant house filled with unmated wolves.”

The wording brought Jensen up short just as he was reaching into the bed to snag his backpack.

“Unmated?”

Jared coughed and shrugged his shoulders.

“Unattached, really. Mated and unmated are just really old concepts that don’t seem to be able to disappear from our vernacular.”

Jensen nodded and turned his attention to the house. His nerves were starting to reek havoc on his stomach. He could scent at least half a dozen werewolves inside, a strange mixture of spice and fruit and flowers that made his internal organs twist a little. A huge, warm hand suddenly patted softly between his shoulder blades.

“Come on … it’s going to be alright, I promise.”

With a quick nod to cover his nerves, Jensen silently trudged after Jared up the path and stepped to the front door. When the neon purple door was pushed open, a wave of sound washed over them. There was a large group of people laughing and carrying on somewhere inside, and the waft of grilled meat that accompanied the noise made Jensen’s empty belly gurgle.

Jared laughed.

“Let’s get you something to eat, huh?”

When they crossed the threshold of what appeared to be the formal dining room, everything went silent. Dozens of eyes were instantly on him and nostrils were flaring wide to breathe him in. The barrage of scents was heady and overpowering to his senses. It was suddenly too overwhelming … too much. His bag hit the ground with a loud thunk and Jensen could feel his upper lip curling in a snarl, gums burning with a need to do something he hadn’t figured out yet.

Two of the men seated at the table jumped to their feet and the motion had him skittering backwards until his back slammed into a wall. There was a low, deep growl echoing across the room and it took him several seconds to realize that it was emanating from him. It’s like his brain was shutting down it’s ability to focus. All he could think was ‘cornered, cornered, cornered, out numbered’.

“Jensen! JENSEN!”

His gaze snapped to Jared for a brief second, and in his distraction, one of the others stepped closer. The man was short, but solid, with dark hair that fell about his shoulders. He smelled like leather and soap.

“Jared… what the fuck, man? Thought you said the kid was a newbie?”

Jensen’s jaws ached from being clenched so tightly, and he tried to follow the conversation between the two men, but his brain felt like it was trudging through molasses.

“He is! Only three weeks old!”

The shorter man stepped forward a little more and Jensen braced his feet apart in a wide stance. He wasn’t even sure what he was doing anymore … his body seemed to be reacting all on it’s own.

“Well he’s got a hell of a lot of mojo working for just a pup.”

A different man surged gracefully up from his seat at the table and slowly walked forward. Dark haired with piercing blue eyes, but a light scent of wisteria and snow … it was a calming smell and Jensen liked it immediately. Not as much as Jared’s, though.

“Three weeks ago? At the full moon?”

Jared nodded in Jensen’s peripheral vision and the blue eyed man tilted his head in thought. Jensen had the sudden urge to edge towards Jared and keep this other wolf away from him. Somewhere in his rational brain, he screamed at himself to stop acting like this. To get control of himself. The new animal inside of him completely ignored his requests.

“Wasn’t that a blue moon? Last month?”

Blue eyes’ voice was soft and soothing and Jensen appreciated its subtle timber.

“Yeah, I think so… does that matter?”

“Not sure … never met someone bitten on a blue moon before.”

The shorter man with the long hair took a step closer to Jensen and he felt his shoulders drop in preparation to lunge.

“Fuck, son … calm the hell down.”

Jensen snarled at him, and the other man paused his movement. Without taking his eyes off Jensen, he directed his words to Jared.

“Didn’t y’all just come through town? Helluva lot more wolves on the streets than there are in this house.”

Jared took a cautious step closer to Jensen and spoke in a hushed voice.

“Yeah. He was fine. Jensen? Jensen, can you look at me, please?”

His request went ignored. Jensen felt too twitchy and on edge to comply to the other man’s words … no matter how much he may have liked him.

“Well he’s reacting to something, dammit!”

A new, gruff voice joined the conversation.

“I think that may be my doing.”

An older man stepped out of the side door that led to the kitchen. He was in jeans and a faded flannel shirt with slicked back hair and a beard more gray than auburn. White hot rage suddenly slammed through Jensen’s nerves and an ungodly noise reverberated from his chest. Even his vision seemed to go a little red around the edges.

“Jim! What’s going on?”

Jensen didn’t even register Jared’s voice, he was too focused on the newcomer. His skin itched like it was begging to be peeled off and he leveled his body to prepare for an attack.

“Got yourself an Alpha there, Padalecki … that’s the problem.”

There were several gasps around the room and more people jumped to their feet. Beside Jensen, Jared froze.

“An Alpha? How is that even-”

Three things happened almost simultaneously. First, a younger blonde male burst through the door exclaiming his greeting, which in turn set Jensen into motion. Second, the older man, Jim, yelled at Jared to ‘put him down’. And finally, just as Jensen was surging towards the cause of his irritation, a massive hand grabbed him roughly at the back of the neck and slammed him bodily to the floor.

Chaos erupted all around them.

“Fuck!”
“Keep him down!”
“Dude! What’s up with the Justin Beiber look-a-like?”
“Shut up, Chad!”
“What do I do? What do I do?”

The hand that gripped the back of his neck had Jensen’s face smashed against the floor. When he started to get his hands beneath him and push up, Jared’s full weight dropped down onto him, bony knees digging in to Jensen’s upper arms. Jensen snarled and spat and tried to turn his head enough to snap at Jared’s arm. Everything inside of him was screaming DANGER!DANGER! And telling him that being held down this way only led to death. He couldn’t quiet the voice of instinct inside him. Couldn’t bend it to his rational will. For a brief moment … he considered himself lost.

“EVERYBODY SHUT THE HELL UP!”

The power behind the voice and the words themselves brought everything to a halt in the room like some kind of hilarious cartoon freeze frame. There was a shift of movement and a strangled grunt proceeding two knees appearing in Jensen’s direct line of sight. The older wolf, Jim, had knelt down by Jensen’s head. Jensen growled and struggled at the man’s nearness. Everything telling him it was bad. The voice that poured into the silent room was oddly soft and kind, in contrast.

“Put him in his place, Jared.”

“But I-,”

“You brought him here … he’s your responsibility … now … Put. Him. In. His. Place.”

Jensen snapped his teeth loudly at the words, but the next second the fingers at his neck pinched cruelly, almost like a bite, and a deep growl resonated from the large man pinning him to the ground. Jensen tried to fling his weight backwards and free himself, but that damn giant hand slammed him to the floor again and the responding growl was down-right hostile. Jared was pushing all his weight onto him now, and sparks of pain were flaring to life in Jensen’s joints and spine.

Then, just as instantly as the animal instinct inside him had flared to life … it relented. A high pitched whine keened from Jensen’s throat and his body collapsed beneath the larger man holding him down. Jared released a deep sigh of relief, and Jensen had the strangest urge to expose his belly to the man. The word submission rang out in his head, and against his will, tears began to form in his eyes.

He was no better than a fucking dog. The way he had acted … like a mindless, stupid animal. His family would have been shocked and disgusted. A painful sob wrenched from his throat, and it took him several seconds before he realized he was chanting ’just kill me… please just kill me’ in a broken whisper. Jared sucked in a sharp breath above him.

A weathered and callused hand stroked softly across his head. Jensen’s hair was soaked with sweat, and he could feel it sticking to his forehead … but Jim didn’t seem to notice. Simply continued his soothing petting motion and speaking calmly to the room.

“Don’t hold this against him. Don’t blame him. Whoever did this … whoever changed him … was very powerful. Likely an Alpha themselves. Maybe trying to create their heir … or even the ideal mate. Seems there was a lot of power bleed into the bite … and on a blue moon, to boot. That always makes things a little crazy.”

The sound of shuffling reached his addled mind, and Jensen realized that nearly all of the occupants in the room had copied Jim’s example and settled on the floor around him. He could even feel a decidedly female hand rubbing circles on his calf, trying to soothe him. Jared’s weight was a heavy presence on his back, but the man had backed up a little and it wasn’t as much uncomfortable anymore as it was … a security.

“Been a long time since I’ve met an Alpha that wasn’t natural born. It’s a rarity. His wolf is new … untested … but with a heap of power to back it up. A puppy with the strength of an adult … and no upbringing to learn how to tame it. This is going to be hard on you, kid … this isn’t an easy life you’ve been forced into.”

Jensen’s voice was rough and broken … his throat felt like sandpaper. He wanted to scream, but could only manage a whisper.

“Used to it.”

Jim grunted an affirmative response. The older man’s hand moved down to cup Jensen’s jaw lightly.

“Most of you wouldn’t know, because you’re all natural born … but a changed wolf … the animal that appears … it’s usually a direct reflection of the strongest personality traits of the human it was before. I’d say you’ve had a pretty rough life, kid … and I doubt you would disagree with me.”

A strangled sound of distress bubbled up from Jensen’s throat against his will. He clamped his eyes closed, and tried to ignore the tears he could feel leaving tracks down his face. The large hand that had been gripping the back of his neck loosened and moved to rest between his shoulder blades. This day had just become the icing on the fucked up cake that was his life in a nutshell. For the hundredth time in the last two years, Jensen wished the tornado would have taken him as well.

He was done. He was just so completely done.

Jensen welcomed the retreat of adrenaline with open arms, allowing it to drag his body down into exhaustion so that he could slip away into blackness.

"Even a Man Who is Pure in Heart" - CHAPTER TWO

bunnymaccool — Sun, 17 Jun 2012 19:43:30 GMT

Sitting alone surrounded by nothing but trees gave a person way too much time to think. Contemplating what has become of your life after being scared shitless that someone was trying to kill you … not fun. On the plus side, if there was one, the woods around him were absolutely beautiful. Deep green hues and lush, thick grass that was damn near soft to the touch.

Jensen had curled up in a particularly dense section of it and tugged his backpack off to use as a makeshift pillow. The first thing he had noticed after his heartbeat had regained its normal rhythm, had been the unusual smell that surrounded the area. It was a spicy, sort of peppery, scent that made his nose tingle. He’d never smelled something the like of it before, and oddly enough … it was making his gums itch.

The sunlight was dappling the ground around him with sparkles of warm yellows and he could make out all sorts of particles and flotsam drifting through the rays. He had just managed to calm himself down from the car chase and settle in to wait for Jared … when there was a sound of shifting foliage in the distance.

Not wanting to make any sudden movements, Jensen slowly drifted his gaze towards the sound, and was startled to find a pair of golden eyes watching him from between the trees. Not even twenty yards away a large dusty gold wolf was standing in a copse of smaller saplings just observing him. Jensen swallowed so hard his throat clicked. Jared’s warning about not going into town alone was echoing in his brain, but he found himself frozen in place. The peppery scent was stronger now … and he wondered if that was the olfactory mark of a werewolf.

The wolf took a couple steps closer before sitting on it’s haunches and tilting it’s massive head to the side in a questioning manner. Jensen licked his lips, but didn’t dare move. If anything, he figured, he was prone on the ground and not threatening … so that should be good, right? Unless there were a couple other wolves out there ready to pounce on him and rip out his spleen. Fuck.

“I’m … I’m just …”

He hadn’t even realized he was going to speak until the words were already leaving him. The wolf straightened it’s head and perked up its ears as if to say ‘go on, I’m listening.’ Jensen absently scratched his belly but didn’t move to rise.

“I’m sorry if I’m trespassing … I’m waiting to meet someone … do you … do you know him? Jared?”

For a second Jensen’s inner voice felt the need to remind him that he was talking to a fucking wolf. There was a chance that the creature before him was nothing beyond that … an animal … that might just be wanting to eat his face off. It might not be a werewolf at all … after all … it looked nothing like the thing that had attacked him three weeks ago.

When he mentioned the name Jared, however … swear to fucking Christ if the wolf didn’t huff out an annoyed noise and roll it’s goddamn eyes. Jensen pulled himself up to a sitting position and met the wolf’s gaze head on.

“Jesus Christ … you really are… Jesus Christ.”

He reached his hands up to rub wearily at his face and chuckled under his breath.

“I can’t believe this is fucking happening to me.”

There was a shuffle of noise, and when he opened his eyes once more the wolf was sitting only five feet away from him.

“Fuck!”

The wolf made a chuffing noise that sounded almost like a laugh when Jensen had startled. It regarded him with interest, and just like the thing that had attacked him, there was an indeterminate amount of intellect glowing from the golden eyes. It would be obvious to anyone who happened across this animal that it was in no way a normal wolf.

“Are you … I mean … did I do something wrong? Am I in trouble?”

An annoyed chuff was the only response he received, before the wolf was turning it’s head sharply to the right and perking up it’s ears. Jensen followed the animal’s gaze, but didn’t see anything. After a few seconds the hum of an engine echoed through the trees. It didn’t take long for a beat up red pickup to come into view.

“Is that Jared?”

There was another chuff in affirmative, and Jensen slowly pulled himself up to his feet. He could make out a rather large silhouette behind the wheel. When the truck pulled up to a stop not far from his bike another wave of scent washed over him. This time it was less peppery, and more a warm spice … like cinnamon or nutmeg. For some reason it sent a shiver down Jensen’s spine.

The door of the vehicle creaked open, and a freaking giant of a man hopped out. He had to have at least a couple inches on Jensen, extremely broad shoulders, and legs that practically went up to his neck. Shaggy brown hair fell partially into his eyes, and a large smile was causing deep dimples to appear on his cheeks.

“Jensen?”

At the sound of his name, Jensen actually startled a little. He hadn’t realized he had been gaping at the other man. There was just something magnetic about this stranger before him, and the smell … God … he just smelled so fucking GOOD. Jensen’s gums tingled again and he found himself taking a deep inhale through his nose, could feel his nostrils flaring to intake more of that scent.

Jared skittered to a stop and his eyebrows nearly hit his hairline. He seemed to shuffle about cautiously for a moment, but Jensen could see him scenting the air around them as well. For a brief second it almost appeared as though the other man’s eyes glimmered with a golden sheen, but it faded quickly.

The wolf between them suddenly let out an undignified snort of a noise that Jensen could have sworn sounded like an annoyed huff of disbelief. It made Jared jump a little, however, and turn his attention to the massive animal.

“Thanks, Chad … I’ll see you later at the house, okay?”

‘Chad’ yipped a noise of agreement and then quickly took off into the trees. Jared returned his gaze towards Jensen and smiled warmly. The hint of whatever was there previously had vanished. He rubbed the palms of his hands roughly across the denim of jeans in a sort of nervous gesture.

“I … uh … I think I maybe understand the werewolf stalker issue a little better now.”

A single eyebrow rose upwards on Jensen’s face, and Jared stammered on.

“I mean … you’re very … you’re … well …”

There was a flippant hand movement that indicated Jensen from head to toe, and he glanced down at himself in confusion. Threadbare white t-shirt. Black leather riding jacket. Soft-worn jeans covered by his leathers. Beat up pair of Doc Martens he’d had since he was seventeen. Nothing extraordinary.

“I’m what?”

Jared chuckled softly under his breath. Somewhere close by there was a very Lupine snort of amusement and Jared was blushing faintly across his tanned skin.

Oh. OH… well… okay … well … OH!

For his entire life Jensen had considered himself as hetero-normal as he could possibly be. He’d never given the briefest of thoughts about being attracted to another man, but surprisingly … the idea that Jared might find him attractive didn’t really bother him that much. His entire fucking life had been ripped out from under him violently … twice. Another man cruising him was so fucking LOW on his totem pole of worries that it didn’t even register a feeling of discomfort. Life was too short.

Jared cleared his throat and stepped forward, offering up his … Jesus… massive hand.

“Anyway … official introductions? I’m obviously Jared … Padalecki.”

Jensen rolled his shoulders a bit before reaching up to take the other man’s hand and shake it firmly.

“Jensen Ackles. Thanks for … you know…”

The taller man nodded and squeezed his hand once before releasing it.

“Yeah… yeah man, don’t mention it. Welcome to Tilbury Pack land. You wanna put the bike in the back of my truck and we’ll get outta here?”

Jensen nodded and stepped forward to help Jared heft his old girl up into the truck bed. It wasn’t until after they had already completed the maneuver, that he realized it shouldn’t have been as easy as it had for two men to lift a full size motorcycle. Jensen froze and stared down at his own hands in disbelief. Apparently Jared noticed the action.

“It’s getting closer to your first full moon.”

The soft tone of his voice made Jensen raise his eyes to meet the other man’s. He didn’t even have to speak, Jared continued to explain on his own.

“The last week before your first shift is when all the changes start to happen. Better hearing, better eyesight, increased strength. The ability to scent things.”

These last words were accompanied by a faint blush across the taller man’s cheeks. Jensen cleared his throat and glanced off into the distance.

“Guess that explains why I couldn’t wear my contacts anymore. Seemed like one minute they were fine… and the next I could see better without them. Figured it was a werewolf thing.”

Jared nodded in silent agreement before shifting around to open his driver side door and slip into the beat up interior of the truck. Jensen walked around the bed of the vehicle to hop into the other side. While he was clicking the safety belt into place, he considered something else.

“Will … will I be able to do that … what Chad did? Be a wolf?”

Jared grinned as he fired up the engine.

“Yeah … sure will. After your first full moon. You’ll see. It’s like a whole new world.”

Jensen snorted as the other man shifted the truck into gear and began to turn back the way he had come.

“Thanks, Aladdin.”

Without warning, Jared laughed loud and free into the warm cab. He reached over and smacked Jensen hard across the shoulder. The easy affection of the gesture made something cold and forgotten clench deep in Jensen’s belly.

“Shut up, princess.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

And with that … they headed into the town of Tilbury Falls.

"Even a Man Who is Pure in Heart" - CHAPTER ONE

bunnymaccool — Sun, 17 Jun 2012 19:41:17 GMT

He stared at the wooden and glass paneled door before him and shifted from foot to foot for a couple more moments. The was his last chance. It was not-so-surprisingly difficult to round up any information on honest-to-God-real-life werewolves in this glorious age of technology and Google. And if he was forced to view even one more picture of that Taylor Lautner kid shirtless he was going to put a silver bullet in his own brain and consider it a day.

Absently scratching at the scar that was still slightly raised from the skin he read the engraved plate next to the door for the fifteenth time in the last five minutes.

Prof. J.D. Morgan - Head of Anthropology & Mythology

Jensen rubbed a hand wearily down his face. The man behind this door was supposed to be the go-to guy at the university for all manner of myths and legends. Apparently he had some kind of fixation on it. At least, that’s what all students he’d asked at the coffee shop had said. He was also Jensen’s final hope for any kind of real information … and his time was running out. The silver bullet idea was appealing more and more.

Finally, he worked up the last of his courage and reached forward to knock hesitantly on the door.

“Come in!”

The voice was warm and rough and it tickled in Jensen’s ears pleasantly. Cautiously opening the door, he was greeted by an attractive older man sitting behind a desk strewn with books and papers. Salt and pepper hair, full beard and a welcoming smile. Jensen returned the smile with a fairly wane one of his own. An odd mixture of old books, aged leather and the sweet/sour smell of cigars teased his nose.

“Hello, son, how can I help you?”

Jensen cleared his throat and clasped his hands loosely behind his back.

“I was wondering if I could ask you questions … about a certain legend … or … creature, really. If you don’t mind, sir.”

The older man grinned again and motioned for Jensen to sit in the worn, leather visitors chair facing his messy desk.

“Of course. I do so love to gossip about my field. Are you in one of my classes?”

Jensen swallowed thickly, making his throat click audibly, as he scooted quickly into the offered chair.

“N-no, sir. I’m not a student here. Can’t afford it.”

The warm smile on Morgan’s face dimmed just a fraction as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well that’s a shame. What can I do you for?”

Jensen chuckled a little nervously under his breath before he spoke again.

“I was wondering what you knew about … werewolves?”

There was a flash of something he couldn’t define in Professor Morgan’s gaze. It made Jensen tense a little in his chair.

“Are you curious about the European mythology? Or more the-”

“If you please, sir … um … do you know anything about … the … the real thing?”

Morgan froze in his chair. His gaze seemed to sharpen as he looked Jensen up and down … then caught on the scar barely peeking out from beneath his gray Henley. Morgan chewed on his bottom lip for a second, clearly deep in thought, before he finally lifted his gaze to meet Jensen’s once more.

“You in trouble, son? How old is that bite?”

A wave of relief warred with a tsunami of nausea in Jensen’s gut and he slouched down into his chair.

“Two weeks.”

Morgan ‘hmmed’ under his breath, then suddenly shifted to pull out one of the drawers of his desk and rifle through some papers inside.

“They don’t socialize much … and they don’t take kindly to strangers … but I’ve heard of a guy. He’s one of the good ones.”

Jensen had trouble swallowing around the lump in his throat.

“There are good ones and bad ones?”

Morgan chuckled deep in his chest.

“They’re just people, kid. Like the rest of us.”

Jensen shuddered as the memory of the monster that had attacked him bubbled to the surface.

“With all due respect … that thing didn’t look like any person I know.”

The other man paused to glance at him for a second, then finally tugged a business card out from the stack of papers jammed into his desk drawer. He quickly handed it over and then stood from his chair.

“Be that as it may … Jared can help you. Just … be polite and honest with him. Now … I really must insist that you move along. I’m not supposed to share this knowledge as it is … and if any of the local pack finds out you came to me… well. I’d rather you just pretend you never came here.”

Jensen stood slowly and it felt like he left his stomach somewhere on the seat beneath him.

“There’s a … pack? Around here?”

Morgan made shooing motions with his hands and not-so-gently ushered Jensen out of his office.

“Off you go, kiddo … and good luck!”

There wasn’t even a chance for Jensen to respond before the door was slamming shut behind him. He leaned back against it for a moment to gather his wits about him once more. Too much information in too short of a time span … but at least he had something to go on. He glanced down at the small card gripped in his hand.

Jared Padalecki
“Even a Man Who is Pure in Heart”

There was nothing else on the card, save for a phone number scrawled on the back. It had a Washington area code, but that didn’t mean it was anywhere nearby. Jensen licked his lips in a nervous gesture before stuffing the card into the back pocket of his jeans and hurrying home to his tiny apartment.

Two days later the card continued to sit … staring at him … on the kitchen counter beside the phone. Jensen knew he really needed to man up and grown a pair, because his own personal time bomb was ticking down pretty quickly … but the idea of talking to a werewolf. On the phone. It was nearly more than he could take.

Finally, late on a Friday evening, he snatched up the card and dialed before he could second guess himself. It only rang twice before the call connected and a honey-rich voice came over the line.

“Hello?”

For a moment, Jensen considered hanging up … but he remembered that he was not, in fact, a teenage girl and it was time to start acting that way.

“Um … Hi … is this, Jared?”

Werewolf. Werewolf. Werewolf. Was on repeat inside Jensen’s brain. Banging at the walls of his internal filter and begging to be screamed out loud for the world to hear.

“Speaking. Can I help you?”

Jensen collapsed onto his beat up, thrift store couch and allowed his body to list bonelessly to the side.

“God, I really, really hope so.”

There was a weighted silence from the other end of the connection for a couple seconds.

“Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi… you’re my only hope?”

Jensen burst out laughing without even meaning to. He couldn’t even remember the last time laughter had so freely leaked out from within his chest … but it had been over two years ago, to be sure. The answering chuckle on the other line was sincere and friendly, and he hoped to God that he wasn’t about to be classified as a mad-man.

“Yeah … yeah … pretty much … but Chewbacca may be more appropriate in this situation.”

He expected the amusement from the man on the phone to die off at his remark, but he was rewarded with another warm chuckle instead.

“Probably apt.”

Jensen picked at a string on his threadbare jeans, but for some reason his voice had left him now. He just waited for Jared to respond on the other end of the line.

“So … what’s the matter then?”

Steeling himself with the reminder that it was all or nothing, he only had a week and a half left until the next full moon, Jensen chose his words carefully.

“I was bitten. A little over two weeks ago. I don’t know what to do.”

Jared ‘hmmed’ thoughtfully over the line.

“Willingly? Or not?”

Jensen choked on the next inhale of air into his lungs.

“People get bitten WILLINGLY!?!”

The deep voice clucked in some odd form of disapproval.

“I’ll take that as a no, then. Which is … actually not a good thing.”

Nerves began gnawing their way up Jensen’s spine as he considered the applications of those words. Thought of himself Hulk-ing out into a giant, furry rage monster and shivered straight down to his toes.

“Wh-why is that?”

The other man (werewolf!) was now clearly moving around whatever building he was currently in. There was the sound of muted footsteps and the shuffling of paper.

“Well … because unwilling bites are forbidden. Pack law.”

Goosebumps were trekking their way down Jensen’s flesh now.

“Pack law?”

Jared hummed in agreement and there was a soft ‘snickt’ of noise over the line.

“Look … where are you? How far are you from Tilbury Falls?”

Jensen considered the route, considered the area. Tilbury Falls was a tiny town of less than a thousand people that backed right up to thick woods. He’d never ventured there himself, but had heard stories from locals about the nut jobs that inhabited the place.

“Maybe … maybe two hours away? Give or take?”

Jared made a soft noise of approval.

“Awesome. How soon can you be here?”

Jensen licked his lips and glanced around his apartment.

“I’d have to ask for time off from my boss and-”

“Quit the job.”

There was a handful of seconds wherein he had the urge to sputter indignantly and tell the other man to go fuck himself … but the mental image of his own personal time-clock of disaster tick-tocking away kept him from doing so.

“Why?”

Jared clucked in disapproval.

“Look … I don’t know your name…”

“Jensen.”

“Right, look, Jensen … you don’t have a lot of time here. And you damn sure are not going to have any control … or even a fucking clue what to do. So, you either pack your shit up and get over here ASAP … or I have to report you to the pack. You … won’t like that choice, I promise you.”

There were tears tapping at the back of his eyes, politely asking permission to be freed, but Jensen ignored them stoutly. He thought about his job. Which provided him with a paycheck, but he didn’t really like. He thought about his apartment. Which gave him a roof over his head, but he secretly hated coming home to. Running his fingers lightly across the scar at his shoulder he considered Jared’s words.

Jensen wasn’t stupid by any means. If unwilling bites were not allowed, that meant he was a dangerous loose end, and if Jared said he wouldn’t like the other option … he believed him.

“Okay … yeah … okay.”

His voice broke a little in the middle and silence greeted him from the other line for several seconds. When Jared spoke again, the soothing warmth had returned and Jensen clung to it like a lifeline.

“Jensen … it’s gonna be okay. I promise. It’s gonna be fine.”

A startled laugh broke free before he could stop it.

“Sure. I’ll um … it’ll take me a couple days to sort it all out.”

Jared breathed deeply across the connection.

“Call me when you’re about twenty miles out of town. Under no circumstances do you come into Tilbury by yourself. Got me?”

Jensen made a quick sound of understanding and then snapped his phone closed. For the second time in his life he was about to lose everything. His only consolation was that the stuff he had now… he really didn’t give a shit about.

Two days later, and for the second time in his life, Jensen disappeared like smoke in the wind. He dropped the key for his apartment off to the landlady. (It was pay by month anyway.) Turned in his apron at work. (They didn’t seem to be too bothered.) And donated almost everything he owned to the local Salvation Army. (Most of the furniture had been purchased from there anyway.) He even went as far as emptying out his meager checking account and closing it with the bank. (Being untraceable would probably be a good idea when you’re about to turn into a werewolf, after all.)

His one splurge was a Bluetooth earpiece that he could fit under his helmet and listen to radio on the road. Thirty minutes into the drive, with everything he owned in his saddle bags and backpack, Jensen called Jared. The phone only rang once this time.

“Jensen?”

The voice was just as warm and stable as he’d remembered it.

“Yeah. I’m on the road. About an hour and a half out.”

He could make out the sound of Jared walking barefoot on some kind of hard floor and that gave him pause. There hadn’t really been much of a chance to talk with anyone across a phone line since he was bitten, but Jensen was pretty sure that he’d never been able to make out the sounds of soft footfalls before.

“Does your hearing get affected? You know … when you’re turned?”

Jared laughed full out and Jensen found himself appreciating the sound. Not something that had been directed towards him in a long while.

“Geez, man … abrupt subject change much? Yes it does … why do you ask?”

Jensen considered playing off a bullshit answer, but the truth of the matter was … he really needed to trust Jared. And trust was a two way street. So he would be as open and forthcoming as he possible could.

“I just realized … I could hear you walking barefoot on a hard floor … and I couldn’t remember ever being able to do that with anyone before.”

The other man hummed softly under his breath.

“There’s going to be a lot of changes you’re going to have to get used to, Jensen. Some a lot more difficult to handle than just being able to hear better over the phone line … but yeah. I can tell that you’re on a bike, obviously, but I can also hear the nylon of your backpack shifting against your shoulders and the creak of your leathers as you shift around.”

Jensen blew out a calming breath, but Jared kept speaking, his voice seeming to echo inside the helmet.

“Did you tell anyone where you were going?”

An old pang of remorse and loss jabbed him in the side.

“No one to tell.”

Silence filled the line for several beats.

“No family? No friends?”

Jensen beat down the twist of pain that was blossoming in his chest.

“Nope.”

“No coworkers that might worry where you’ve gone?”

“Nope.”

“Seriously? No one? No one is going to wonder what the hell has happened to you?”

He grit his teeth slightly at the disbelief in Jared’s tone.

“I said no, didn’t I?”

Jared’s voice was a little breathless when he next spoke.

“Wow… that actually explains a lot … you’re perfect.”

The bike swerved for a second under lax fingers before Jensen swore and regained control.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, man?”

“No! No! No! Hear me out! I … I didn’t mean it to sound like that…”

Jensen released a slow, controlled breath but didn’t speak up, waited for Jared to continue instead. A bit of movement in his periphery caused him to glance down to his side mirror, and there was a black SUV pretty far back on the road behind him. It was the first vehicle he’d seen in a while.

“… it’s just I had been thinking over your situation. How it just doesn’t really happen anymore. And when you said you don’t have any friends or family … it all clicked.”

The SUV was gaining ground, little by little, and something was making Jensen’s proverbial hackles rise … so he increased his own speed.

“What clicked?”

“Well … no one will look for you if you disappear, right? You’re alone with no real connections.”

“Yeah, so?”

“…………… so I don’t think this was an accidental run in, Jensen.”

A cold pit of fear dropped low in his belly and his gaze immediately shot to his mirror, where the reflection of the SUV was closing in again. Oblivious to Jensen’s situation, Jared kept talking over the line.

“I think someone has been watching you. Following you. Waiting for the right opportunity … and when you were alone … they took it.”

He could now tell the make and model of the vehicle bearing down on him. The windows were tinted too black to see inside.

“Shit.”

“Yeah, man … I think you had your own personal werewolf stalker … who apparently decided he was done with watching and waiting.”

The massive car behind him pulled right up on his ass … front bumper nearly scraping the fender of Jensen’s bike. He ripped back the accelerator as far as it would go and prayed the old girl would stay together for him.

“Jensen? Was that a car? Jensen?”

The SUV gunned it as well and started to pull up again.

“FUCK!”

“JENSEN!? What’s going on!?”

Behind his own panic, and the worry in Jared’s voice, Jensen could hear the other man scrambling around and fumbling with a set of keys. Then a door slammed and a car started up before Jared spoke again.

“I’m on my way! What’s going on? Where are you?”

The SUV was nearing him again and Jensen swore. No way this was a good situation. No way. He supposed there was always a chance that whoever was in the car was out to help him … but something in his gut was telling him ‘not fucking likely’ … and he decided to go with that.

“There’s a truck. I think it’s … it’s after me.”

Jared swore this time and Jensen could hear him step on the gas. The SUV closed to his side suddenly swerved over into Jensen’s lane.

“MOTHER FUCKER!”

“What!? What!?”

“He’s trying to run me off the damn road!”

“Shit!”

Jensen found himself frantically peering to the road ahead, trying to find some sort of escape route. For the most part the two lane highway was empty fields of nothing. Some thick with trees. Others barren except for the tall stalks of bright green grass. Finally in the distance a smudge of brown angled away from the paved lanes and disappeared into woods.

“Feeder road! Taking it!”

Without so much as a thought to where the dirt track could lead him, Jensen veered off sharply the moment it appeared. He heard the SUV’s breaks squealing on the blacktop behind him, but didn’t let off the throttle, kicking up clouds of dust as he tore down the road.

“Where there any signs? Numbers? Names?”

He had almost forgotten that Jared was on the other end of the phone line.

“Don’t think so … there was an abandoned gas station about a mile back.”

“Okay! Okay! I know where you are! You’re almost to pack land! That’s good!”

Jensen took the chance to flick his gaze behind him. He couldn’t see much beyond the dust and dirt he was kicking up … but there was a distant rumble of tires on gravel.

“They’re still coming!”

Jared cursed, and Jensen could make out the sound of tires squealing around a corner through the line.

“Just a couple miles! There will be a really old rock wall covered with vines. The road you’re on will pass right through it, and then you’re on pack land. If they follow you after that … then we have a problem.”

“Got it.”

Jensen gunned the throttle again and desperately sought out some sort of wall in the distance. The roar of the other vehicle seemed to get louder behind him, but he didn’t dare turn around and check, and his side mirrors only reflected back his dust cloud. Finally a dark shape began to form on the horizon. At the speed he was going it shot up pretty fast, and he flew through the small opening carved into the decrepit wall. The woods around him seemed to instantly get heavier and the shadows more pronounced.

“I’m across.”

“Are they following?”

The road beneath his tires turned into rich, moist dirt and the cloud of dust dissipated behind him. Taking the chance, Jensen cut his speed back and swiveled his head to glance behind him. The SUV was stopped. Right at the line of the wall. The clenching fear in his gut relented by a fraction.

“No.”

There was a weary sigh in his ear and it sounded like Jared may have rubbed his hand down his face.

“Thank God. Get into the tree line where they can’t see you anymore and then stop. Wait for me there. I should be less than an hour. Don’t move unless they come after you, alright? I gotta make some calls.”

The idea of losing the connection to Jared spooked him just a bit, but Jensen made an affirmative sound and the line disconnected. He slowed his pace as he breached the tree line and followed the dirt road just a few dozen meters in before coming to a stop. Turning off the engine to the Harley caused the pounding in his ears to become even more pronounced.

There was the distant rumble of an engine, and Jensen hopped off the bike and jogged towards the tree line until he could make out the wall in the distance. The SUV had turned around and was driving away. Stumbling back towards all his earthly belongings, Jensen’s knees gave out and he collapsed to the ground.