FIC: In His Deceit - 1/8
Title: In His Deceit
Author: Miss 'Drea
Artist: pixymisa
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Dean/OFC, Dean/Sam, brief Sam/Trickster
Beta: selecasharp and blackcathollow
Word Count: 22100/20000
Warnings: Genderbending, angst, some show-level amount of gore
Summary: When the perfect woman shows up during Dean's latest hunt, he spends more time trying to catch her attention than he does solving the hunt. She hunts with him even though she has no idea what she's doing and he's all over that; he likes teaching. Everything is perfect. Except for when it isn't. She vanishes without a trace and then Dad goes missing right after. Dean thinks they're linked. (He has no idea.)
Disclaimer: Not mine, not even a little bit. Title is from the Rune's poem.
Notes: Special thanks to selecasharp for coming up with my title, and for the beta and everything else. And to pixymisa, without whom I would have scrapped the story and dropped out of the entire bigbang out of writer's block frustration. Thanks, hon. <3 Mostly though, thank you for the dance.
| Prologue | 1 | Interlude I | 2 | Interlude II | 3 | Interlude III | Epilogue |
| Notes & Soundtrack | Art Post (coming soon!)|
| Prologue |
NOW
Dean kisses her gently, craning his head to meet hers where it's pillowed on his upper arm. She smiles sleepily, curling into the warmth of Dean's side. "What's on for tomorrow?" she murmurs, pressing her own kiss to the skin of his shoulder.
"Figure we'll wake up late," he says, running a hand along her side in a light caress. "Sleep in a little."
She rolls her eyes. She's heard that before, but Dean's always up by seven at the latest. "Uh huh," she tells him skeptically. "And in English that means?"
"By sleep," he concedes, "I clearly mean 'have lots of sex'." He looks indignant when she laughs, but she kisses away the expression easily enough. "I thought maybe we could check out California."
Tucking her head under Dean's chin, she asks, "What's in California?"
"My brother," Dean says shortly. "Remember him?"
Her smile fades. "I remember him. You said you weren't ever going to go see him. What changed?"
"I have." Dean pulls her closer and kisses her on the top of the head. "Go to sleep, I'll wake you up with breakfast."
She snorts and rolls away, curled up onto her side. "And by breakfast you mean, 'and have lots of sex', of course."
He grins and turns over onto his stomach. "Of course."
"Love you," she murmurs in the darkness. His hand finds hers under the covers and squeezes once. She squeezes back; he has trouble with words but she knows how he feels.
As Dean's breathing deepens into sleep and his hand becomes slack around hers, she finally allows herself to think of Sam. She wonders what he would be doing right now, in California, in his perfect life as a law student.
She wonders how Dean is going to feel when he gets to Stanford and finds out that Sam never made it to college, and that he's now missing. She wonders how he'll feel when he finds out the truth. In the beginning, not being able to tell Dean everything just about killed her; now she's relieved she never had a choice.
"I am Sam," she whispers. It's okay as long as no one hears.
She lets Dean's hand go so she can roll closer to the edge of the bed and lets his breathing lull her to sleep. Her mind eased, she finally lets darkness take her.
Only to open her eyes to a room she's never been in before. It's not that strange - she's been visited by the Trickster many times before in her sleep - but it's never felt this real.
She's still tired too, which is annoying, and she huffs out an exasperated breath. "Loki," she warns. "I don't want to play games."
Loki's voice filters through the room. "You never do, Gigantor."
"You really can't call me that anymore. I'm barely taller than you, Short Time." It's an old joke now, after four years. "You planning on coming out anytime soon?"
The Trickster's laughter fills the room, but something sounds a little off. "Not yet. I want to look at you."
She rolls her eyes. "Look away, but make it fast, okay? I'm tired." She splays her arms out and spins in a mocking circle, eyes searching the dark corners of the room.
"So," the Trickster says, melting out of the shadows of an apartment she has never seen before in her life, "when did you start thinking you really were Jacqui?" She's had a lot of conversations with him over the last four years, and he's always sounded perpetually amused - most likely at her expense - but now he sounds a little... sad.
"Three years ago," she answers honestly. "It... It was easier." She finally turns to face him, her lower lip bitten and raw. "Is this it? The end of the game?"
He nods, amber eyes tired. "For what it's worth, Sam... it wasn't supposed to end like this." He takes a step towards her, wincing when she flinches. "You, uh, may want to take your clothes off."
Slowly her fingers rise to unbutton her black shirt, shrugging off the leather vest and blouse at the same time. Her fingers are slow and stupid when she unhooks the silk bra, even though she's had four years to perfect the motion. The dark blue jeans go next, and she toes off the heeled boots easily. When she stands before him, totally naked, he reaches out with one hand. "Wait," she says, voice trembling. "Why can't we leave it like this?"
"Oh, Sam," the Trickster says. "Dean needs his brother, now." Two of his fingers touch her on the center of her forehead and suddenly she's looking down at him. And she's not a she anymore.
*
Sam feels uncomfortable in his own skin for the first time in his life. He's too tall, his shoulders too broad, and everything aches in a way that it hasn't since he stopped growing. "Now what?" he asks, hollowly.
"Now you go back to the life you would have had if I hadn't come along. Don't worry, everything is all set. Close your eyes, Gigantor." The Trickster pulls him in close and when Sam opens his eyes again, he's lying in a bed with a blonde asleep beside him.
Her name is Jess, and they're supposed to be in love.
Sam aches for Jacqui. And Jacqui, the one still alive in his head, aches for Dean.
It takes almost five days for Dean to show up at the apartment, five days that has Sam plagued with nightmares about this girl, this Jessica, burning on the ceiling of their apartment. He thinks it's symbolic, the death of his old life, and says nothing to her.
He kisses her when she leans in, holds her at night cradled in his too-large embrace. He misses being the little spoon. And when Dean shows up in the middle of the night, Sam hurts to kiss him. He doesn't, barely. He makes his excuses to Jess, mumbling about his interview, and rushes off to find his father with his brother.
Dean's a little subdued, a little more quiet than Sam remembers, and when Sam finally asks what's wrong, Dean says, "After we find Dad, do you think... do you think you could stick around and help me find someone else?"
Sam affects a confused face, which is much easier said than done. "Yeah, sure, man. Who?"
"Just... a girl."
Sam's mostly expecting the answer, but doesn't expect Dean to reach into his wallet and pull out a battered, creased photo of Jacqui. It's one Sam doesn't remember being taken; she's curled up in the front seat of the Impala and clearly sleeping. Sam wants to say 'She's pretty' or something else equally as lame, but seeing the look in Dean's eyes makes his mouth move before his brain can stop him.
"Dean," he says, staring down at the picture of the girl he wishes he still was. "I have something to tell you."
Author: Miss 'Drea
Artist: pixymisa
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Dean/OFC, Dean/Sam, brief Sam/Trickster
Beta: selecasharp and blackcathollow
Word Count: 22100/20000
Warnings: Genderbending, angst, some show-level amount of gore
Summary: When the perfect woman shows up during Dean's latest hunt, he spends more time trying to catch her attention than he does solving the hunt. She hunts with him even though she has no idea what she's doing and he's all over that; he likes teaching. Everything is perfect. Except for when it isn't. She vanishes without a trace and then Dad goes missing right after. Dean thinks they're linked. (He has no idea.)
Disclaimer: Not mine, not even a little bit. Title is from the Rune's poem.
Notes: Special thanks to selecasharp for coming up with my title, and for the beta and everything else. And to pixymisa, without whom I would have scrapped the story and dropped out of the entire bigbang out of writer's block frustration. Thanks, hon. <3 Mostly though, thank you for the dance.
| Prologue | 1 | Interlude I | 2 | Interlude II | 3 | Interlude III | Epilogue |
| Notes & Soundtrack | Art Post (coming soon!)|
| Prologue |
NOW
Dean kisses her gently, craning his head to meet hers where it's pillowed on his upper arm. She smiles sleepily, curling into the warmth of Dean's side. "What's on for tomorrow?" she murmurs, pressing her own kiss to the skin of his shoulder.
"Figure we'll wake up late," he says, running a hand along her side in a light caress. "Sleep in a little."
She rolls her eyes. She's heard that before, but Dean's always up by seven at the latest. "Uh huh," she tells him skeptically. "And in English that means?"
"By sleep," he concedes, "I clearly mean 'have lots of sex'." He looks indignant when she laughs, but she kisses away the expression easily enough. "I thought maybe we could check out California."
Tucking her head under Dean's chin, she asks, "What's in California?"
"My brother," Dean says shortly. "Remember him?"
Her smile fades. "I remember him. You said you weren't ever going to go see him. What changed?"
"I have." Dean pulls her closer and kisses her on the top of the head. "Go to sleep, I'll wake you up with breakfast."
She snorts and rolls away, curled up onto her side. "And by breakfast you mean, 'and have lots of sex', of course."
He grins and turns over onto his stomach. "Of course."
"Love you," she murmurs in the darkness. His hand finds hers under the covers and squeezes once. She squeezes back; he has trouble with words but she knows how he feels.
As Dean's breathing deepens into sleep and his hand becomes slack around hers, she finally allows herself to think of Sam. She wonders what he would be doing right now, in California, in his perfect life as a law student.
She wonders how Dean is going to feel when he gets to Stanford and finds out that Sam never made it to college, and that he's now missing. She wonders how he'll feel when he finds out the truth. In the beginning, not being able to tell Dean everything just about killed her; now she's relieved she never had a choice.
"I am Sam," she whispers. It's okay as long as no one hears.
She lets Dean's hand go so she can roll closer to the edge of the bed and lets his breathing lull her to sleep. Her mind eased, she finally lets darkness take her.
Only to open her eyes to a room she's never been in before. It's not that strange - she's been visited by the Trickster many times before in her sleep - but it's never felt this real.
She's still tired too, which is annoying, and she huffs out an exasperated breath. "Loki," she warns. "I don't want to play games."
Loki's voice filters through the room. "You never do, Gigantor."
"You really can't call me that anymore. I'm barely taller than you, Short Time." It's an old joke now, after four years. "You planning on coming out anytime soon?"
The Trickster's laughter fills the room, but something sounds a little off. "Not yet. I want to look at you."
She rolls her eyes. "Look away, but make it fast, okay? I'm tired." She splays her arms out and spins in a mocking circle, eyes searching the dark corners of the room.
"So," the Trickster says, melting out of the shadows of an apartment she has never seen before in her life, "when did you start thinking you really were Jacqui?" She's had a lot of conversations with him over the last four years, and he's always sounded perpetually amused - most likely at her expense - but now he sounds a little... sad.
"Three years ago," she answers honestly. "It... It was easier." She finally turns to face him, her lower lip bitten and raw. "Is this it? The end of the game?"
He nods, amber eyes tired. "For what it's worth, Sam... it wasn't supposed to end like this." He takes a step towards her, wincing when she flinches. "You, uh, may want to take your clothes off."
Slowly her fingers rise to unbutton her black shirt, shrugging off the leather vest and blouse at the same time. Her fingers are slow and stupid when she unhooks the silk bra, even though she's had four years to perfect the motion. The dark blue jeans go next, and she toes off the heeled boots easily. When she stands before him, totally naked, he reaches out with one hand. "Wait," she says, voice trembling. "Why can't we leave it like this?"
"Oh, Sam," the Trickster says. "Dean needs his brother, now." Two of his fingers touch her on the center of her forehead and suddenly she's looking down at him. And she's not a she anymore.
*
Sam feels uncomfortable in his own skin for the first time in his life. He's too tall, his shoulders too broad, and everything aches in a way that it hasn't since he stopped growing. "Now what?" he asks, hollowly.
"Now you go back to the life you would have had if I hadn't come along. Don't worry, everything is all set. Close your eyes, Gigantor." The Trickster pulls him in close and when Sam opens his eyes again, he's lying in a bed with a blonde asleep beside him.
Her name is Jess, and they're supposed to be in love.
Sam aches for Jacqui. And Jacqui, the one still alive in his head, aches for Dean.
It takes almost five days for Dean to show up at the apartment, five days that has Sam plagued with nightmares about this girl, this Jessica, burning on the ceiling of their apartment. He thinks it's symbolic, the death of his old life, and says nothing to her.
He kisses her when she leans in, holds her at night cradled in his too-large embrace. He misses being the little spoon. And when Dean shows up in the middle of the night, Sam hurts to kiss him. He doesn't, barely. He makes his excuses to Jess, mumbling about his interview, and rushes off to find his father with his brother.
Dean's a little subdued, a little more quiet than Sam remembers, and when Sam finally asks what's wrong, Dean says, "After we find Dad, do you think... do you think you could stick around and help me find someone else?"
Sam affects a confused face, which is much easier said than done. "Yeah, sure, man. Who?"
"Just... a girl."
Sam's mostly expecting the answer, but doesn't expect Dean to reach into his wallet and pull out a battered, creased photo of Jacqui. It's one Sam doesn't remember being taken; she's curled up in the front seat of the Impala and clearly sleeping. Sam wants to say 'She's pretty' or something else equally as lame, but seeing the look in Dean's eyes makes his mouth move before his brain can stop him.
"Dean," he says, staring down at the picture of the girl he wishes he still was. "I have something to tell you."