Leap Year Day Post
I fully intended to have a story finished or something to post on this day, but real life attacked and I'm behind with just about everything. So, with that in mind, instead of a full fic, for this Leap Year Day, I'm posting snippets of things I'm working on that I plan to finish soon - and to tide all you wonderful readers of mine over until my posting date for the Gabriel Big Bang.
Warnings:Mpreg, underage, language in at least one but not all fics.
Rating:R - just for safety's sake
August. It didn't matter where you were in the country, Sam figured August had to be the most miserable month ever, even worse than February, which in some areas could be moderately decent. August was just all around cruel. It was hot and airless, and even here in Palo Alto, where you'd think there would be a nice Pacific breeze, it was steamy and just walking to the mailbox could make you sweat bullets. He groaned and fell back on his bed. Today was the one year anniversary of him leaving the hunting world. If it wasn't so damn humid, he might feel like celebrating. An entire year of being normal - and neither dad or Dean had come along and wrecked it for him. Then again, Dean had gotten out of hunting too, a few weeks after he did. That was what he surmised - Pastor Jim had called him last September to see if he'd heard from Dean. Sam hadn't and wasn't too concerned at the time. Whatever had been making those people vanish in Nebraska had stopped, so obviously Dean took care of it and moved on. He could see it clearly in his mind. Dean wanted out. Dean had the Impala. He'd sell most of the guns in the trunk, keeping things like the sawed off, a pistol or two, and a few knives. The rest he'd sell, get a good wad of cash and settle down somewhere - or keep up the drifter gig, something. He'd keep the Impala, of course. His brother would sooner chop off his own legs than sell that damn car.
Sam checked in with Pastor Jim around once a month. He was never going to hunt again, that was for certain, but he still wanted to at least get word to someone he was doing all right. It'd taken him a few months to realize that if Dean had gone normal, then they could try and at least have a weekend together every now and then. Holidays, family shit that he'd been wanting for years and well, with dad being the asshole he was, they never got. Thanksgiving dinner shouldn't come from a cardboard box and tray or a bucket of Kentucky Fried. Last year he's scored an invite to his roommate Brady's home. For Christmas, Sam had holed up with a bunch of international students in one of the fraternity houses and had a buffet of multi-traditional holiday fare. A really cute girl from Romania had made some incredible potato pancakes that, if she'd not already had a boyfriend, Sam would have proposed marriage for. Not that the Italian girl's pasta hadn't been worthy of such admiration either. In short? It'd been the best Christmas ever and Sam was hoping for a repeat this December. He was going to try his hand at making actual dressing for the event and not just Stove Top. The phone ringing brought Sam back to reality and he picked it up without looking at the caller ID and answered it.
“Hello?”
“Sam? Sam is that you?”
Sam nearly hung up on his father. “I'm not coming back, dad. I don't want to go into this...”
“Your brother is missing.”
“He's not missing, dad. He took off. He's off being normal and hurray for him. Now just let me get back to living my own...”
“He's not off being normal, Samuel Eric, something took him.”
“You're drunk.” Sam hung up the phone and dropped it on the floor. “Dean doesn't get caught, asshole.” When the phone started to ring again, he flat out ignored it.
**
Orrick was starting to think that the tradition of consorts not sharing a bedroom with their spouses was a pretty dumb one. He knew that Dean was comfortable where he was and had never brought it up, but then again, making a rosebush grow from a rock was easier than getting Dean to admit something was wrong. As it was, Orrick spent more nights sleeping next to Dean than he did in his own bed. He listened to the snow spattering against the glass of the doors across the room, sighing softly. It'd been almost a year in the human realm since Dean came to live here, the year spring came early. He brushed a lock of hair behind Dean's ear, cuddling closer to him, one hand resting on his love's very pregnant belly, feeling the slight movement of their child under his palm. He'd already explained plenty of how things were with fey pregnancy and whatnot to Dean, taking the initiative rather than delaying things and having the poor man find out the hard way, like he had with the wings. He was brought out of his musings when there was a very sharp kick, sharper than any he'd felt in previous times and Dean woke up, groaning.
“That... can't be right.” Dean hacked once. “What...”
Orrick helped him sit up, rubbing the area between his shoulders. “I think it's time.”
“Oh...oh...” He let out a pained noise. “Knew there was something I forgot to ask about...”
“What was that?”
“Pain drugs for this -” He bent over, holding his stomach. “Oh shit... shit this hurts -”
“You think you can walk?” Orrick said just as thunder echoed against the window. “Shit.”
“What? Rain?”
“Heavy snowfall.” He shook his head. “We won't be able to get out of the house, not in this weather.”
“Fuck.” Dean felt tears prick the corners of his eyes. “I - how...”
“We can do this, okay?” Orrick took Dean's face in his hands. “I need to know if you can walk.”
“Think so.” With the fey's help, Dean managed to get to his feet and was able to walk a few steps, the pain abating as he became a little more mobile.
“I don't think we're going to have to wait long.” Orrick kept his arm around the man's waist as they walked the width of the room. “I believe you are right in our daughter having bad timing.”
“Do you know how to deliver a baby?” Dean knew it was a lousy time to be asking such a question, but really, what else could he do?
“It's not that complicated Dean, not when there's minimal risk involved.” He guided Dean to a chair and had him sit. “You think you can stay here for a few minutes while I get some things we're going to need?”
Dean nodded, holding onto his stomach and taking a few deep breaths. “Pain.. isn't so bad right now.” He glanced up at Orrick. “Still not as bad as the time I got that compound fracture...”
Orrick gave him a swift kiss on the top of the head. “Be back before you know it. Just stay put.” He glanced at Dean's belly. “Both of you.”
Seasons of the Gods - Winter
Jeneva, resident of the town of Abadel wasn't a fool. Despite the best efforts of the men of her village who tried to keep women weak and subservient, she knew the town was going to be in serious trouble. She'd hated the fact that on her wedding day, she'd not gotten to say good-bye to her sister, her best friend, her almost perfect double - Jensen, she had felt something was wrong. It grew even worse when she moved into her husband's home and discovered a pair of maiden-boots, the ones that were supposed to be on her sister's feet, being worn by her new sister in law, she knew there was going to be trouble. Particularly since she'd been forbidden to speak of it. Everyone knew that the bridegroom of a twin sister was to send the younger twin to the woods with a new pair of sturdy boots, no matter what the season and a cloak. If Jensen had been sent into the wilderness barefoot, then odds were, there was no cloak either. Her husband had sent her twin to her death, Jeneva was sure of it. She hadn't even wanted to marry Kristoph in the first place. Her and Jensen's parents, however, were old, and she had to marry in the vain hope she could give birth to a child within a year so her sister could also marry.
She pulled her hood tighter around her head as she bent into the wind, heading away from her parents home and towards her in-laws. She wanted her sister back, wanted her home - Jeneva couldn't very well accuse her husband of murder - everyone in Abadel was convinced that Jensen was safely tucked away in the maiden-place. She was a bride of almost four months and, despite her husband's over-enthusiastic and rapidly growing aggressive bedding, she was not with child. Kristoph kept asking her why she was resisting his seed. Like she could control it. She was convinced, however, that his lack of kindness to her sister, for failing to provide as he properly should, had been frowned upon by the gods and for that, they were being punished.
Jeneva stepped into her father-in-law's home, shaking her cloak free of snow, already ready for the onslaught she knew was coming.
“What a time you have been, daughter.” The man frowned, leaning on his cane. “What has delayed you so long?”
“The weather is taking a turn for the worse.” She hung up her wraps and removed her boots, slipping her feet into her house shoes. “I was heading into the wind, rather than having it at my back.”
“It is not good for you to be out in the cold.” Kristoph came into the room and Jeneva had to restrain herself as he came over and kissed her on the cheek. “I worry for you in this weather.”
“I am fine.” She pressed her forehead against his collarbone in the common reply of the women of her village to their husbands. “I will go and help with dinner.” It was a weak attempt at escape - her mother-in-law barely let her cook anything.
“Home at last.” The woman said in a reproachful tone. “I don't think you should be visiting your parents so often, Jeneva. It is not proper.” She merely flicked her eyes towards a pile of vegetables and the girl went to them, picking up a knife to slice them.
“It's once a week, that is all.” She kept her focus on the blade of the knife as she cut up the turnips. “I do not see the impropriety in that. Although - I think winter has become more severe.”
“What makes you say that?” The woman pursed her lips over the soup pot. “Or did you believe that fool Oliver when he was screaming we were all invoking the wrath of the gods?”
“It just - it doesn't feel the way winter normally feels outside - the wind sounds different, or something.”
“Nonsense.” She took the cut up vegetables from her and dumped them into the cook pot. “We knew winter was coming early when it snowed the night of you and Kristoph's wedding - perhaps this is the start of a lull - those are always more savage than the weather that comes before it.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “Today was the first calm day since the solstice, without the sun to calm the weather, you can't expect for it not to be cold.”
It was on the tip of Jeneva's tongue to ask what the sun had anything to do with it, as there were regularly sunny days in the winter that were horrifically cold as well as rainy days in the summer that were so hot, she wished one could walk around in nothing but underclothes. Instead, she took up the loaf of bread that she had baked yesterday and began to slice it. Something bad was coming - she knew it.
Untitled J3 Fic
It was always the same after a trip to see either of their families. Jared and Jeff would come home, talking about the things their nieces or nephews were doing, how big they were getting and how happy their families seemed. The conversation would taper off into that uncomfortable silence that both of them would be reluctant to break, and when it did, it was never on the subject that had caused it. Jeff glanced over at Jared, who, even though his eyes were closed, was still awake. “You're thinking about it again, aren't you?”
Jared sighed. “Force of habit, sorry.” He turned over and tucked his pillow under his chin. “Stupid childhood illness.”
Jeff leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Well, to be fair to your parents, when your child is two, you don't think about them becoming parents themselves.” He pulled him into a hug.
“Just wish we could have kids, Jeff.” Jared nuzzled against him.
“Well...” Jeff hated to admit he'd been thinking about how much he wanted a child, a child of his own and not adopted, for a while and while Jared could likely father a child, owing to a fever in his toddler-hood, was unable of carrying a baby like other betas. “What would you think of adding another member to our family?” He rubbed the man's back in slow circles. “Not another beta, of course... but what do you think about us getting a bride?”
Jared opened his eyes, half-smiling. “A girl?”
“Yes.” Jeff kept rubbing Jared's back. “A girl... someone young, pretty... and willing, of course.” Most girls entered their heats between the ages of twelve and fifteen and it was rare for her to not be married by the time her heats regularly came. He could remember when his own sisters had been taken out of school at the ages of eleven to be home-schooled, like all girls were, unless their parents put them on suppressants. Doctors were just now learning how bad those suppressants were to a woman's fertility - and the practice of men marrying young girls was common.
“That sounds...” He nuzzled against the man. “We'd have to find just the right sort of bride for us, Jeff. Someone we both like... someone who'd be a perfect fit for both of us.” Truth be told, Jared had been thinking of the exact same thing, but admitting to your alpha that you wanted to bring a female into your marriage well, how do you bring that up? He had four parents and Jeff had five - so really, it was surprising it'd taken them this long to come to this conclusion. Then again, with work and school and all the other chaos of the last six years, it was probably a better assessment to say that they hadn't been ready.
“Of course.” Jeff hugged Jared, closing his eyes and smiling. “No one too young... she should at least be fourteen.” His own mother had been sixteen when he was born.
“Fourteen sounds good.” Jared thought for a moment. “A good sense of humor...or at least, will laugh the first few times at a corny joke she's heard before.”
“Wants children.”
“That's a given.” He snuggled closer to his husband. “How many kids?”
Jeff chuckled. “I think we better find our bride first Jay, then ask her how many kids she wants.”
“Sounds perfect.”
*
Jared didn't honestly expect the perfect candidate to show up immediately. These were the sort of things that took time. He was therefore properly shocked two days later, when he almost literally walked right into her. He'd been doing the grocery shopping for the week when a girl with blond hair almost to her waist had caught his attention. Maybe it'd been the hair, maybe it'd been the green eyes, or the freckles, or something he couldn't put his finger on, but he'd done his best to be covert about watching her as he feigned interest in the pasta sauces in front of him while the girl was looking over cans of soup. She was wearing jeans that he could tell were being held up by a belt and a sweatshirt that was at least two sizes to big for her. The clothes covered up her figure fairly well and at first Jared was worried he might be making eyes at a married girl, but then he noticed her unadorned left hand.
“Um, excuse me.” The girl was talking to him.
“Yes?” Jared pushed his cart closer to her and smiled. “Can I help you?”
“Would you please?” The girl had a smile that could melt lead. “Could you hand me a can of cream of celery? It's... just out of my reach.”
“Sure.” Jared reached up and pulled the can out of the rack. “Just need one can?”
“Yes, thank you.”She took the can from him.
“You're welcome.” Jared was about to speak again when a small boy of about seven ran up and grasped the girl's hand. “Come on, Jensen... dad's waiting at the checkout.”
“Coming, Alex... coming...” She glanced back at Jared before letting her little brother tug her along out of the isle.
Requiem for Snow - Chapter 23
Michael stood outside of the Lutheran church in Blue Earth, sighing. He'd put Heather so far back in her own mind that it'd be impossible for her to remember any of what was about to transpire. Many of the believers of the Whore were already streaming towards the doors. Some of their souls already reeked of sulfur and damnation, others were merely tainted. If he did not act now,when the sun went down tonight, these followers would pour into the streets, armed with whatever weapons they could lay their hands on; guns, knives, gardening tools and slay the people who had yet to fall under the Whore's spell. This had to be stopped now. The guilty would be punished. The slightly guilty would have the fear of his Father put into them. They would be left to rebuild and to remember the wrath that would be visited upon them this day.
He waited until the church doors shut and then started up the walk. The path was full of salt mixed with sand that crunched under Heather's boots. He entered the church with no problems and stood outside the doors that led to the sanctuary, listening.
“The angels have spoken to me again. They want us to purge the town of the people keeping us from attaining paradise.” The Whore was speaking in such dulcet and calming tones, it was little wonder so many had fallen under her spell. She started listing names and Michael heard gasps through the congregation. “Those that do not stand with us will be purged!” There was a shout followed by a heavy thud. Michael had heard enough.
The doors of the sanctuary blasted open and he stepped into the threshold. “Liar!”
To her credit, the Whore only missed a beat when she realized who had walked into her group of followers. “There she is! There is the one who has brought the demons!” The Whore pointed at Heather. “Kill her!”
Gunfire echoed through the church, knocking Michael flat only from having to deflect so many bullets at once. He had been planning on sparing some of the people in this congregation, but now... A person stood next to him, nudged Heather's prone form with his foot.
“I think she's dead.”
Michael opened his eyes and caught the man by the ankle, rising to an almost kneeling position as fire began spreading through the man's veins and he started to smolder. The doors which had been thrown open slammed shut under Michael's power, holding the followers in. He closed his eyes, bowed his head and kept his concentration. Pure, holy light suddenly filled the church as Michael spread his wings, filling the small space. He heard screams, glass shattering and in the corner of his awareness, heard a reaper comforting the nine innocent souls she had gathered to her. As he opened his eyes and lowered his wings, he saw the Whore crouched down on the front of the altar, glowering at him.
“Ha! You think you can defeat me in that child's body?” She stood up, swaying on her feet. “You're in a shoddy, weak little vessel, Michael. You're no...”
Michael pulled the cedar stake from Heather's inner coat pocket and shoved it straight into the woman's chest. “Actually, I am.” He pushed the spear deeper into the Whore's stomach and let her body fall. He watched her spasm as she died and he then raised his head to see the pastor of the church lying unconscious on the floor. He walked over to the man and set a hand on his back. “Wake.”
Pastor Gideon had fainted right after the doors slammed open. “What... happened?”
“I am afraid the Devil attempted to take this town from the inside out.” Michael took a deep breath. “I know that not all of your congregation was here this day. The time has come for you to bring the stray sheep back to the flock.”
The man blinked at him, confused. “I don't understand...”
Michael tilted his head to the side, regarding the man. “You have known for some time that what has been spoken in this house has been false and damaging. Now is the time to repair what can be and rebuild from the ashes.” With a flutter of wings, he left.
Pastor Gideon rose to his feet, looking over the charred remains of the sanctuary and the bodies lying scattered on the floor and pews. The only visible damage to all of them was the fact that their eyes had been burned clean out of their skulls. He swallowed and look at the thing he'd suspected wasn't his daughter Leah for a the past few weeks. The creature that looks like her is lying dead on the floor, a jagged stake of wood embedded in her chest. How was Blue Earth to rebuild from this? How were they to go on? He heard the fumble of the catch on the doors and watched as several members of his church stumbled inside, silenced by the sight that greeted them. Cold wind blew in from the shattered windows, giving the room an out of place scent of snow and clean winter air.
“What's happened, Pastor Gideon?” A ruddy faced man seemed to be the only one who could find his voice of the group of seven at the back of the church.
The pastor came down the steps of the altar, still taking in the massacre in the room before answering. “A judgment.” He tore his eyes away from the body of the false prophet masquerading as his little girl. Wherever his Leah was, it would be a fair assessment that she was no longer alive. “It is time we went back to the correct path.”
Untitled Girl!Dean/Gabriel Fic
Gabriel knew how fragile the relationship he and Deanna was. They had only had sex once - and that had been several weeks ago. He wasn't going to be the one to bring it up - most nights all the young woman wanted was for him to hold her until she fell asleep - and really? If that's all they ever did? He would be grateful. It was October and over the last few months, he had seen the change that came over her. The gaunt look was gone and she regained some, but not all of her muscle. They had left the house a few times, but never for very long. There were a few too many people causing trouble in the next town over for his liking - and well, he felt it was safer to take Deanna with him than to leave her here, despite all the wards and protective measures.
He was about to get up from the bed when the young woman's hand grasped onto his shirt, snuggling closer to him. He set an arm around her, closing his eyes. “And here I thought you were asleep.”
“Not too sleepy.” She let go of his shirt. “Sorry...”
“Don't be.” He moved so he was lying down on the bed, holding her again. “You can be such a snuggle-puss.”
“That a problem?”
“No.” Gabriel rubbed the small of her back. “You feel like getting out of the house for a while?”
“Now?” She gave him a confused look.
“No, not now... tomorrow, or in a few days.”
“Where were you thinking of going?” She settled down against him.
“Next town - need to - well...”
“I see.” Deanna slowly smiled. “What, you want me to play the supposedly investigating FBI agent?”
The archangel let a grin spread across his face. “Double agent?”
“That could be... fun.” She sighed. “You're not going to kill anyone, are you?”
“Only the guy who's getting away with beating his kids.” Gabriel felt her stiffen. “I might let you help with him.”
“I'll hand you the knives.” Her voice was soft - a sure sign to the angel of how pissed she was.
“Who said anything about knives? I was thinking more along the line of... vegetable peelers.”
*
Deanna straightened her shoulders as she checked herself in the highly polished sheen of the Impala, adjusting the fitted jacket she was wearing. “Just have to keep my head in the game and act like I don't know Gabriel.” She took a deep breath, turned from the car and headed up the stairs of the building of the high school, her heels clicking against the pavement. She kept her tone even as she came to the front desk and flashed her FBI badge at the secretary. “Agent Morrison, I spoke to you on the phone?”
The gray haired woman adjusted her glasses and smiled at her. “Yes.” She started to sort through some files. “One moment please.”
“Take your time, ma'am.” Deanna rested her arm on the counter, watching out of the corner of her eye as Gabriel came past her, pushing a janitorial cart. He gave her the tiniest of nods as he did and had she not been looking at him, would have missed the wink he gave her.
“Yes, here we are... Coach McPhee's file...” The secretary brought Deanna back to reality and she turned to look at the woman again. She looked almost like she was fighting an internal battle. As she handed the folder to her, the secretary set her hand on her wrist. “I know one shouldn't speak ill of the dead, but that man...” She made a face. “Was a complete pig.”
Deanna arched an eyebrow. “Is that in the normal way or something worse?”
The woman's eyes glinted. “Worse. I'm actually....” She suddenly looked abashed and sat back down. “But the circumstances...” She frowned. “Odd... the animal control people didn't hurt the tiger, did they?”
“No ma'am.” Deanna managed a weak look. “They sedated him and got him back into his cage. They're keeping him under observation, but he is, for the most part, unharmed.” She sighed. “And as he's an endangered species, they can't terminate him. Not to mention the animal rights groups are all over this already.”
“Is that your headache?”
“Thankfully not.” She indicated the file. “This is my copy, correct?”
“Yes.” She smiled. “Any questions, you have the number.”
“Thank you.” Deanna tucked the file into her briefcase and left.
I have other challenges that I've not started - I picked up a ton of prompts recently and I need to get them done in the order I took them, but I'm debating forgoing the Dean/Castiel Big Bang this year to get things done.
Warnings:Mpreg, underage, language in at least one but not all fics.
Rating:R - just for safety's sake
August. It didn't matter where you were in the country, Sam figured August had to be the most miserable month ever, even worse than February, which in some areas could be moderately decent. August was just all around cruel. It was hot and airless, and even here in Palo Alto, where you'd think there would be a nice Pacific breeze, it was steamy and just walking to the mailbox could make you sweat bullets. He groaned and fell back on his bed. Today was the one year anniversary of him leaving the hunting world. If it wasn't so damn humid, he might feel like celebrating. An entire year of being normal - and neither dad or Dean had come along and wrecked it for him. Then again, Dean had gotten out of hunting too, a few weeks after he did. That was what he surmised - Pastor Jim had called him last September to see if he'd heard from Dean. Sam hadn't and wasn't too concerned at the time. Whatever had been making those people vanish in Nebraska had stopped, so obviously Dean took care of it and moved on. He could see it clearly in his mind. Dean wanted out. Dean had the Impala. He'd sell most of the guns in the trunk, keeping things like the sawed off, a pistol or two, and a few knives. The rest he'd sell, get a good wad of cash and settle down somewhere - or keep up the drifter gig, something. He'd keep the Impala, of course. His brother would sooner chop off his own legs than sell that damn car.
Sam checked in with Pastor Jim around once a month. He was never going to hunt again, that was for certain, but he still wanted to at least get word to someone he was doing all right. It'd taken him a few months to realize that if Dean had gone normal, then they could try and at least have a weekend together every now and then. Holidays, family shit that he'd been wanting for years and well, with dad being the asshole he was, they never got. Thanksgiving dinner shouldn't come from a cardboard box and tray or a bucket of Kentucky Fried. Last year he's scored an invite to his roommate Brady's home. For Christmas, Sam had holed up with a bunch of international students in one of the fraternity houses and had a buffet of multi-traditional holiday fare. A really cute girl from Romania had made some incredible potato pancakes that, if she'd not already had a boyfriend, Sam would have proposed marriage for. Not that the Italian girl's pasta hadn't been worthy of such admiration either. In short? It'd been the best Christmas ever and Sam was hoping for a repeat this December. He was going to try his hand at making actual dressing for the event and not just Stove Top. The phone ringing brought Sam back to reality and he picked it up without looking at the caller ID and answered it.
“Hello?”
“Sam? Sam is that you?”
Sam nearly hung up on his father. “I'm not coming back, dad. I don't want to go into this...”
“Your brother is missing.”
“He's not missing, dad. He took off. He's off being normal and hurray for him. Now just let me get back to living my own...”
“He's not off being normal, Samuel Eric, something took him.”
“You're drunk.” Sam hung up the phone and dropped it on the floor. “Dean doesn't get caught, asshole.” When the phone started to ring again, he flat out ignored it.
**
Orrick was starting to think that the tradition of consorts not sharing a bedroom with their spouses was a pretty dumb one. He knew that Dean was comfortable where he was and had never brought it up, but then again, making a rosebush grow from a rock was easier than getting Dean to admit something was wrong. As it was, Orrick spent more nights sleeping next to Dean than he did in his own bed. He listened to the snow spattering against the glass of the doors across the room, sighing softly. It'd been almost a year in the human realm since Dean came to live here, the year spring came early. He brushed a lock of hair behind Dean's ear, cuddling closer to him, one hand resting on his love's very pregnant belly, feeling the slight movement of their child under his palm. He'd already explained plenty of how things were with fey pregnancy and whatnot to Dean, taking the initiative rather than delaying things and having the poor man find out the hard way, like he had with the wings. He was brought out of his musings when there was a very sharp kick, sharper than any he'd felt in previous times and Dean woke up, groaning.
“That... can't be right.” Dean hacked once. “What...”
Orrick helped him sit up, rubbing the area between his shoulders. “I think it's time.”
“Oh...oh...” He let out a pained noise. “Knew there was something I forgot to ask about...”
“What was that?”
“Pain drugs for this -” He bent over, holding his stomach. “Oh shit... shit this hurts -”
“You think you can walk?” Orrick said just as thunder echoed against the window. “Shit.”
“What? Rain?”
“Heavy snowfall.” He shook his head. “We won't be able to get out of the house, not in this weather.”
“Fuck.” Dean felt tears prick the corners of his eyes. “I - how...”
“We can do this, okay?” Orrick took Dean's face in his hands. “I need to know if you can walk.”
“Think so.” With the fey's help, Dean managed to get to his feet and was able to walk a few steps, the pain abating as he became a little more mobile.
“I don't think we're going to have to wait long.” Orrick kept his arm around the man's waist as they walked the width of the room. “I believe you are right in our daughter having bad timing.”
“Do you know how to deliver a baby?” Dean knew it was a lousy time to be asking such a question, but really, what else could he do?
“It's not that complicated Dean, not when there's minimal risk involved.” He guided Dean to a chair and had him sit. “You think you can stay here for a few minutes while I get some things we're going to need?”
Dean nodded, holding onto his stomach and taking a few deep breaths. “Pain.. isn't so bad right now.” He glanced up at Orrick. “Still not as bad as the time I got that compound fracture...”
Orrick gave him a swift kiss on the top of the head. “Be back before you know it. Just stay put.” He glanced at Dean's belly. “Both of you.”
Seasons of the Gods - Winter
Jeneva, resident of the town of Abadel wasn't a fool. Despite the best efforts of the men of her village who tried to keep women weak and subservient, she knew the town was going to be in serious trouble. She'd hated the fact that on her wedding day, she'd not gotten to say good-bye to her sister, her best friend, her almost perfect double - Jensen, she had felt something was wrong. It grew even worse when she moved into her husband's home and discovered a pair of maiden-boots, the ones that were supposed to be on her sister's feet, being worn by her new sister in law, she knew there was going to be trouble. Particularly since she'd been forbidden to speak of it. Everyone knew that the bridegroom of a twin sister was to send the younger twin to the woods with a new pair of sturdy boots, no matter what the season and a cloak. If Jensen had been sent into the wilderness barefoot, then odds were, there was no cloak either. Her husband had sent her twin to her death, Jeneva was sure of it. She hadn't even wanted to marry Kristoph in the first place. Her and Jensen's parents, however, were old, and she had to marry in the vain hope she could give birth to a child within a year so her sister could also marry.
She pulled her hood tighter around her head as she bent into the wind, heading away from her parents home and towards her in-laws. She wanted her sister back, wanted her home - Jeneva couldn't very well accuse her husband of murder - everyone in Abadel was convinced that Jensen was safely tucked away in the maiden-place. She was a bride of almost four months and, despite her husband's over-enthusiastic and rapidly growing aggressive bedding, she was not with child. Kristoph kept asking her why she was resisting his seed. Like she could control it. She was convinced, however, that his lack of kindness to her sister, for failing to provide as he properly should, had been frowned upon by the gods and for that, they were being punished.
Jeneva stepped into her father-in-law's home, shaking her cloak free of snow, already ready for the onslaught she knew was coming.
“What a time you have been, daughter.” The man frowned, leaning on his cane. “What has delayed you so long?”
“The weather is taking a turn for the worse.” She hung up her wraps and removed her boots, slipping her feet into her house shoes. “I was heading into the wind, rather than having it at my back.”
“It is not good for you to be out in the cold.” Kristoph came into the room and Jeneva had to restrain herself as he came over and kissed her on the cheek. “I worry for you in this weather.”
“I am fine.” She pressed her forehead against his collarbone in the common reply of the women of her village to their husbands. “I will go and help with dinner.” It was a weak attempt at escape - her mother-in-law barely let her cook anything.
“Home at last.” The woman said in a reproachful tone. “I don't think you should be visiting your parents so often, Jeneva. It is not proper.” She merely flicked her eyes towards a pile of vegetables and the girl went to them, picking up a knife to slice them.
“It's once a week, that is all.” She kept her focus on the blade of the knife as she cut up the turnips. “I do not see the impropriety in that. Although - I think winter has become more severe.”
“What makes you say that?” The woman pursed her lips over the soup pot. “Or did you believe that fool Oliver when he was screaming we were all invoking the wrath of the gods?”
“It just - it doesn't feel the way winter normally feels outside - the wind sounds different, or something.”
“Nonsense.” She took the cut up vegetables from her and dumped them into the cook pot. “We knew winter was coming early when it snowed the night of you and Kristoph's wedding - perhaps this is the start of a lull - those are always more savage than the weather that comes before it.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “Today was the first calm day since the solstice, without the sun to calm the weather, you can't expect for it not to be cold.”
It was on the tip of Jeneva's tongue to ask what the sun had anything to do with it, as there were regularly sunny days in the winter that were horrifically cold as well as rainy days in the summer that were so hot, she wished one could walk around in nothing but underclothes. Instead, she took up the loaf of bread that she had baked yesterday and began to slice it. Something bad was coming - she knew it.
Untitled J3 Fic
It was always the same after a trip to see either of their families. Jared and Jeff would come home, talking about the things their nieces or nephews were doing, how big they were getting and how happy their families seemed. The conversation would taper off into that uncomfortable silence that both of them would be reluctant to break, and when it did, it was never on the subject that had caused it. Jeff glanced over at Jared, who, even though his eyes were closed, was still awake. “You're thinking about it again, aren't you?”
Jared sighed. “Force of habit, sorry.” He turned over and tucked his pillow under his chin. “Stupid childhood illness.”
Jeff leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Well, to be fair to your parents, when your child is two, you don't think about them becoming parents themselves.” He pulled him into a hug.
“Just wish we could have kids, Jeff.” Jared nuzzled against him.
“Well...” Jeff hated to admit he'd been thinking about how much he wanted a child, a child of his own and not adopted, for a while and while Jared could likely father a child, owing to a fever in his toddler-hood, was unable of carrying a baby like other betas. “What would you think of adding another member to our family?” He rubbed the man's back in slow circles. “Not another beta, of course... but what do you think about us getting a bride?”
Jared opened his eyes, half-smiling. “A girl?”
“Yes.” Jeff kept rubbing Jared's back. “A girl... someone young, pretty... and willing, of course.” Most girls entered their heats between the ages of twelve and fifteen and it was rare for her to not be married by the time her heats regularly came. He could remember when his own sisters had been taken out of school at the ages of eleven to be home-schooled, like all girls were, unless their parents put them on suppressants. Doctors were just now learning how bad those suppressants were to a woman's fertility - and the practice of men marrying young girls was common.
“That sounds...” He nuzzled against the man. “We'd have to find just the right sort of bride for us, Jeff. Someone we both like... someone who'd be a perfect fit for both of us.” Truth be told, Jared had been thinking of the exact same thing, but admitting to your alpha that you wanted to bring a female into your marriage well, how do you bring that up? He had four parents and Jeff had five - so really, it was surprising it'd taken them this long to come to this conclusion. Then again, with work and school and all the other chaos of the last six years, it was probably a better assessment to say that they hadn't been ready.
“Of course.” Jeff hugged Jared, closing his eyes and smiling. “No one too young... she should at least be fourteen.” His own mother had been sixteen when he was born.
“Fourteen sounds good.” Jared thought for a moment. “A good sense of humor...or at least, will laugh the first few times at a corny joke she's heard before.”
“Wants children.”
“That's a given.” He snuggled closer to his husband. “How many kids?”
Jeff chuckled. “I think we better find our bride first Jay, then ask her how many kids she wants.”
“Sounds perfect.”
*
Jared didn't honestly expect the perfect candidate to show up immediately. These were the sort of things that took time. He was therefore properly shocked two days later, when he almost literally walked right into her. He'd been doing the grocery shopping for the week when a girl with blond hair almost to her waist had caught his attention. Maybe it'd been the hair, maybe it'd been the green eyes, or the freckles, or something he couldn't put his finger on, but he'd done his best to be covert about watching her as he feigned interest in the pasta sauces in front of him while the girl was looking over cans of soup. She was wearing jeans that he could tell were being held up by a belt and a sweatshirt that was at least two sizes to big for her. The clothes covered up her figure fairly well and at first Jared was worried he might be making eyes at a married girl, but then he noticed her unadorned left hand.
“Um, excuse me.” The girl was talking to him.
“Yes?” Jared pushed his cart closer to her and smiled. “Can I help you?”
“Would you please?” The girl had a smile that could melt lead. “Could you hand me a can of cream of celery? It's... just out of my reach.”
“Sure.” Jared reached up and pulled the can out of the rack. “Just need one can?”
“Yes, thank you.”She took the can from him.
“You're welcome.” Jared was about to speak again when a small boy of about seven ran up and grasped the girl's hand. “Come on, Jensen... dad's waiting at the checkout.”
“Coming, Alex... coming...” She glanced back at Jared before letting her little brother tug her along out of the isle.
Requiem for Snow - Chapter 23
Michael stood outside of the Lutheran church in Blue Earth, sighing. He'd put Heather so far back in her own mind that it'd be impossible for her to remember any of what was about to transpire. Many of the believers of the Whore were already streaming towards the doors. Some of their souls already reeked of sulfur and damnation, others were merely tainted. If he did not act now,when the sun went down tonight, these followers would pour into the streets, armed with whatever weapons they could lay their hands on; guns, knives, gardening tools and slay the people who had yet to fall under the Whore's spell. This had to be stopped now. The guilty would be punished. The slightly guilty would have the fear of his Father put into them. They would be left to rebuild and to remember the wrath that would be visited upon them this day.
He waited until the church doors shut and then started up the walk. The path was full of salt mixed with sand that crunched under Heather's boots. He entered the church with no problems and stood outside the doors that led to the sanctuary, listening.
“The angels have spoken to me again. They want us to purge the town of the people keeping us from attaining paradise.” The Whore was speaking in such dulcet and calming tones, it was little wonder so many had fallen under her spell. She started listing names and Michael heard gasps through the congregation. “Those that do not stand with us will be purged!” There was a shout followed by a heavy thud. Michael had heard enough.
The doors of the sanctuary blasted open and he stepped into the threshold. “Liar!”
To her credit, the Whore only missed a beat when she realized who had walked into her group of followers. “There she is! There is the one who has brought the demons!” The Whore pointed at Heather. “Kill her!”
Gunfire echoed through the church, knocking Michael flat only from having to deflect so many bullets at once. He had been planning on sparing some of the people in this congregation, but now... A person stood next to him, nudged Heather's prone form with his foot.
“I think she's dead.”
Michael opened his eyes and caught the man by the ankle, rising to an almost kneeling position as fire began spreading through the man's veins and he started to smolder. The doors which had been thrown open slammed shut under Michael's power, holding the followers in. He closed his eyes, bowed his head and kept his concentration. Pure, holy light suddenly filled the church as Michael spread his wings, filling the small space. He heard screams, glass shattering and in the corner of his awareness, heard a reaper comforting the nine innocent souls she had gathered to her. As he opened his eyes and lowered his wings, he saw the Whore crouched down on the front of the altar, glowering at him.
“Ha! You think you can defeat me in that child's body?” She stood up, swaying on her feet. “You're in a shoddy, weak little vessel, Michael. You're no...”
Michael pulled the cedar stake from Heather's inner coat pocket and shoved it straight into the woman's chest. “Actually, I am.” He pushed the spear deeper into the Whore's stomach and let her body fall. He watched her spasm as she died and he then raised his head to see the pastor of the church lying unconscious on the floor. He walked over to the man and set a hand on his back. “Wake.”
Pastor Gideon had fainted right after the doors slammed open. “What... happened?”
“I am afraid the Devil attempted to take this town from the inside out.” Michael took a deep breath. “I know that not all of your congregation was here this day. The time has come for you to bring the stray sheep back to the flock.”
The man blinked at him, confused. “I don't understand...”
Michael tilted his head to the side, regarding the man. “You have known for some time that what has been spoken in this house has been false and damaging. Now is the time to repair what can be and rebuild from the ashes.” With a flutter of wings, he left.
Pastor Gideon rose to his feet, looking over the charred remains of the sanctuary and the bodies lying scattered on the floor and pews. The only visible damage to all of them was the fact that their eyes had been burned clean out of their skulls. He swallowed and look at the thing he'd suspected wasn't his daughter Leah for a the past few weeks. The creature that looks like her is lying dead on the floor, a jagged stake of wood embedded in her chest. How was Blue Earth to rebuild from this? How were they to go on? He heard the fumble of the catch on the doors and watched as several members of his church stumbled inside, silenced by the sight that greeted them. Cold wind blew in from the shattered windows, giving the room an out of place scent of snow and clean winter air.
“What's happened, Pastor Gideon?” A ruddy faced man seemed to be the only one who could find his voice of the group of seven at the back of the church.
The pastor came down the steps of the altar, still taking in the massacre in the room before answering. “A judgment.” He tore his eyes away from the body of the false prophet masquerading as his little girl. Wherever his Leah was, it would be a fair assessment that she was no longer alive. “It is time we went back to the correct path.”
Untitled Girl!Dean/Gabriel Fic
Gabriel knew how fragile the relationship he and Deanna was. They had only had sex once - and that had been several weeks ago. He wasn't going to be the one to bring it up - most nights all the young woman wanted was for him to hold her until she fell asleep - and really? If that's all they ever did? He would be grateful. It was October and over the last few months, he had seen the change that came over her. The gaunt look was gone and she regained some, but not all of her muscle. They had left the house a few times, but never for very long. There were a few too many people causing trouble in the next town over for his liking - and well, he felt it was safer to take Deanna with him than to leave her here, despite all the wards and protective measures.
He was about to get up from the bed when the young woman's hand grasped onto his shirt, snuggling closer to him. He set an arm around her, closing his eyes. “And here I thought you were asleep.”
“Not too sleepy.” She let go of his shirt. “Sorry...”
“Don't be.” He moved so he was lying down on the bed, holding her again. “You can be such a snuggle-puss.”
“That a problem?”
“No.” Gabriel rubbed the small of her back. “You feel like getting out of the house for a while?”
“Now?” She gave him a confused look.
“No, not now... tomorrow, or in a few days.”
“Where were you thinking of going?” She settled down against him.
“Next town - need to - well...”
“I see.” Deanna slowly smiled. “What, you want me to play the supposedly investigating FBI agent?”
The archangel let a grin spread across his face. “Double agent?”
“That could be... fun.” She sighed. “You're not going to kill anyone, are you?”
“Only the guy who's getting away with beating his kids.” Gabriel felt her stiffen. “I might let you help with him.”
“I'll hand you the knives.” Her voice was soft - a sure sign to the angel of how pissed she was.
“Who said anything about knives? I was thinking more along the line of... vegetable peelers.”
*
Deanna straightened her shoulders as she checked herself in the highly polished sheen of the Impala, adjusting the fitted jacket she was wearing. “Just have to keep my head in the game and act like I don't know Gabriel.” She took a deep breath, turned from the car and headed up the stairs of the building of the high school, her heels clicking against the pavement. She kept her tone even as she came to the front desk and flashed her FBI badge at the secretary. “Agent Morrison, I spoke to you on the phone?”
The gray haired woman adjusted her glasses and smiled at her. “Yes.” She started to sort through some files. “One moment please.”
“Take your time, ma'am.” Deanna rested her arm on the counter, watching out of the corner of her eye as Gabriel came past her, pushing a janitorial cart. He gave her the tiniest of nods as he did and had she not been looking at him, would have missed the wink he gave her.
“Yes, here we are... Coach McPhee's file...” The secretary brought Deanna back to reality and she turned to look at the woman again. She looked almost like she was fighting an internal battle. As she handed the folder to her, the secretary set her hand on her wrist. “I know one shouldn't speak ill of the dead, but that man...” She made a face. “Was a complete pig.”
Deanna arched an eyebrow. “Is that in the normal way or something worse?”
The woman's eyes glinted. “Worse. I'm actually....” She suddenly looked abashed and sat back down. “But the circumstances...” She frowned. “Odd... the animal control people didn't hurt the tiger, did they?”
“No ma'am.” Deanna managed a weak look. “They sedated him and got him back into his cage. They're keeping him under observation, but he is, for the most part, unharmed.” She sighed. “And as he's an endangered species, they can't terminate him. Not to mention the animal rights groups are all over this already.”
“Is that your headache?”
“Thankfully not.” She indicated the file. “This is my copy, correct?”
“Yes.” She smiled. “Any questions, you have the number.”
“Thank you.” Deanna tucked the file into her briefcase and left.
I have other challenges that I've not started - I picked up a ton of prompts recently and I need to get them done in the order I took them, but I'm debating forgoing the Dean/Castiel Big Bang this year to get things done.