Fic: Thicker Than Water (12/?)
Hi...everybody...
Yeah, it's been forever and a day since I updated this story, but I am planning on finishing it. So here is the next chapter of my Supernatural/ TrueBlood crossover. There will be more soon. I have been working on it very...very slowly.
Title: Thicker Than Water
Rating: R (language, sexual situations, violence)
Fandom: Supernatural / TrueBlood
Pairings: standard fare for both series
Spoilers: Everything through Supernatural season 4 and TrueBlood season 2
Summary: After Lucifer breaks free Castiel is MIA. Their search for the missing angel brings Sam and Dean to Bon Temps, Louisiana, where supernatural forces are threatening to tear the town apart.
“Looks like my kinda party,” Dean said through a smile. There was music, people with enough glasses and beer bottles to signal an open bar and the smell of something cooking that made his stomach rumble a reminder that he hadn't eaten for several hours. Yep, exactly his kind of party. Well, except for the potbellied man with his dick currently hanging out running through the crowd. He shook his head as the man ran past with beer bottle held aloft, eyes squeezing shut. “Okay, that’s been seared in my brain.”
“Same here,” Sam replied.They hadn't planned on coming to a party. Hadn't even known it was happening until they showed up, prepared to ask Tara Thornton about her connection to Miss Jeanette. When no one answered the door they followed the music around the side of the house. With this many people, it’d be easy to get in, find who they were looking for, and get out.
Dean focused on other things, notably the brunette with the rack you could set a tray on coming towards them with a come-hither smile and two bottles of beer. He took a step forward and was brought up short by Sam.“Working,” his brother reminded him.
“Doesn’t mean we can’t be friendly,” Dean countered.
The woman stopped in front of them. “Welcome to the party,” she yelled over the music, handing them each a beer. “Good to be here,” Dean gave her his biggest smile while Sam shouldered his way into the crowd. He gestured to the gathering with his beer. “Who’s throwing this thing?”
She shrugged, and he fought to not swallow his tongue. “No idea, but its great!” She came closer, until she was flush against him, hand brushing against his belt. “You should’a brought a swim suit,” her voice was husky.
He backed up slightly when her hand started to drift lower, directing her hand up, but the brunette didn’t seem to mind. “I’m Stacy, by the way.”
“Dean.” He cleared his throat. “So, what’s the occasion?”
“Life!” She lifted her arms in the air and spun in time to the music. “Dance with me!”
God, there were times he hated his job. “Maybe later,” he reassured her, taking a mental picture of her for later use and God-damn… how’d she get an ass like that?
Stacy pouted. “Please?”
Dean cracked his beer and took a long pull. “Later, I promise.” He was so gonna kill Sam. With a final look Stacy drifted back into the crowd and was swung over the shoulder of a guy. In seconds she was thrown, laughing, into the pool. Dean shook his head. Some people just didn’t know how lucky they were.
Sam had disappeared in the crowd, which should have been impossible, since he stood head and shoulders over most of the people they met. The crowd never seemed to stop moving; everyone was laughing, yelling, and having a good time. The fact that two women had been murdered and one man had gone missing less than two weeks ago didn’t seem to concern any of them.
Dean was halfway through the crush of bodies when he realized that the hands brushing his ass and chest were deliberate, and some of them too big to belong to a chick. "Hey!" he yelled, when one hand in particular got too friendly with his belt. The owner, a man close to his own age with a bad faux-hawk, laughed and floated further into the group. That was it; he had to get out of here before he punched someone. He set the beer down, started towards what he hoped was the edge of the crowd and found himself facing a thick tree line and tiki torches.
The hunter took the moment to focus while fixing his clothes. They were supposed to be looking for Tara Thornton. Her last known address was this place, but he hadn't seen her. Then again, she could have been doing the mambo in the middle of the crowd around the pool, but he wasn't about to get groped by strange dudes again just to find out.
Not until he had a few more beers.
“Hello… and who might you be?”
A hand traced itself across his shoulder as Dean turned. The owner of the voice was a woman; dark haired, dark eyed, smiling at him above the rim of a slender glass.
"Dean," he said automatically.
She held out a hand. "Maryanne." The brunette gave him a once over when he took her hand, massaging the skin between his thumb and forefinger. "I don't recall seeing you in Bon Temps before, Dean."
"Stopped by on business," he said vaguely, watching as a piece of clothing was thrown out of the dancing crowd. "Heard there was a hell of party going on tonight. Who's throwing this thing?" The woman laughed, holding her glass against her throat. "Why, I am!" She handed him the champagne flute. "And you don’t look like you're having nearly enough fun." She linked her arms with his and walked him towards the main house, skirting the crowd.
Dean held the flute but didn't drink. One of Dad's first lessons was never take something you didn't open yourself, and it was a hard one to shake. "So, you a local?" he asked his escort.
"Just moved in a few months ago," Maryanne’s hand held up her trailing skirt. "Carl and I needed a change of scenery."
"Carl," Dean latched onto it. "Boyfriend?"
Her laughter was bubbly. "No! Carl's just someone I took in a long time ago. We've been looking out for each other for ages now." Her eyes were large, looking into his. "He’s the one responsible for the food tonight. Fantastic chef.” His stomach gurgled again. They were so stopping for pie on the way back to the hotel. “What about you, Dean? Planning on staying in Bon Temps for long?"
There was something about her, something that made him feel like a horny virgin on prom night; all jitters and anticipation. "Depends," he said after clearing his throat. He looked around, hoping to find a familiar outline. Where the hell was Sam, anyway?
She noticed his gaze, a small frown marring her features before they stretched into concern. "Are you looking for someone?" she asked.
My brother, he almost blurted the words out, but stopped at the last moment. "I came here with someone. Tall guy, loves flannel."
Maryanne's smile made heat curl up from his collar, and Dean fought the urge to fidget. "I'm sure he's having a good time. The people of Bon Temps are very friendly." She moved in closer, pressing to him from chest to hip. “And if he came with you, I’m certain he won’t go far.”
“We don’t… we’re not…” he felt a flush crawl up his collar. “Just friends,” he finally managed to get out, putting space between them.
“Well, since it looks like you’re stuck with me… I could give you the grand tour, if you’d like.”
Business, Dean, he reminded himself. “I was looking for someone, actually,” he said. “Tara Thornton. Her mother said she was staying here.” Something shifted in the woman’s features so fast he almost missed it. “Tara might be at work by now,” she said, eyes scanning the crowd. “She works at a little bar called Merlotte’s off route 12.” “Sure she wouldn’t stay for the fun?”
The brunette shook her head. “Tara has a solid work ethic. It’s one of the things I admire about her.” She walked slowly towards the house, leaving him to trail behind her. “How do you know Tara’s mother?” There was an edge to her voice, almost hidden, but there.
“We’re not friends, or anything,” he said quickly, holding the door open as they walked inside. “I work for the Examiner, a paper out of Shreveport. Tara Thornton was one of the people who found a body a few nights ago.”
The woman settled on a low couch. “Tara told me about it. That poor woman, dying like that. She was very shaken by the whole thing.”
Dean sat across from her. “Did you know she knew the victim?”
Maryanne nodded. “She told me she was a scam artist, something about a faulty exorcism. That’s really all I could get out of her, and I didn’t want to push. She’s been through so much in her short life.” Her eyes were dark, luminous in the half-light of the living room. “To prey on those who need help the most is one of the worst crimes, in my opinion. Certainly not worth death, of course,” she amended quickly.
“What about-”at that moment his phone rang. “Excuse me.”
“Dean?”
“Sam,” he stood, circling away from Maryanne and back towards the door. “Where are you?”
“Somewhere between the threesome by the pool and the foursome in the Jacuzzi.”
“Dude, seriously?” He definitely had to go to parties in the south more often.
“Yeah. You?”
He half turned back to Maryanne and forced a smile. “Since you abandoned me I’ve been in the company of the lovely Maryanne, the lady who owns the house.”
Dean could hear the screeching and moaning over the line. “Any luck on finding Tara?” Sam asked.
“Not on my end.”
“Same here,” Sam huffed. “Listen, meet me in the driveway in five minutes.”
“Got it.” He clicked his phone shut. “Sorry, but I have to get going.”
“So soon?” she stood. “You've’ve barely had time to enjoy yourself.”
He shrugged. “I know, but duty calls,” Dean headed for the front.
“Wait.” Maryanne place a hand on his chest. “Just one minute.” When he made no move to continue she skipped into the kitchen. “I can’t have you leaving on an empty stomach.”
Dean followed her. “There’s really no need-“ he trailed off.
There was food everywhere.
The long table in the center of the room was loaded down with cut meats and cheeses, fruits and vegetables. The stove was covered in oversized pots, all steaming slightly. Maryanne was ladling the contents of one into a Tupperware bowl.
“This is Carl’s specialty, all the way from Greece,” she explained as she slapped a top on. “Its stifado.” In less than a minute she handed him a bag filled with a little bit of everything, including a full loaf of bread and two beers from the fridge. “Bavarian,” she explained. “It complements the stew perfectly.”
“Thanks.” If everything tasted half as good as it smelled he would count the evening a win.
“You’re welcome,” she poured herself a glass of wine from a bottle on the counter. “Life’s been very good to me, so Ilike to be good to others. Just bring the Tupperware back when you’re done, and enjoy.”
“Excuse me, Maryanne?”
The brunette turned towards the voice. A short, balding man was leaning half in the kitchen from the patio. “Excuse us, Dean.”
Dean wandered back outside. Sam was walking along the driveway, tucking his shirt back in. Even in the half- light Dean could make out his flush. “Working, Sammy?” he teased.
“Ambushed.” He grunted.
“Yeah. Last time I used that excuse you…” Dean trailed off when he notice Sam wasn’t paying attention to him. He was focused on the bush in front of them. A bush that was… moving? A few more feet, and the bush turned into two party-goers going at it like weasels; the blonde had her legs wrapped around the man’s waist. Dean grinned. He was definitely going to more parties in the south.
Sam smacked him on the shoulder and started walking, skirting wide of the couple. After a few seconds Dean followed with a shake of his head. As they were passing the blonde looked at them and smiled, revealing jet black eyes. She whispered something to her partner and he turned as well, leering at them with the same eyes before thrusting into her harder.
“Shit.” He didn’t need to look to know Sam was right behind him.
Dean pulled the man off the woman, pinning him to the side of the house with one arm.“Exorcizamus te omnis immundus spiritus,” he started, heard Sam begin on the blonde. “Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii-” The sound of a slap stopped him. He turned. Sam was staring at the woman, who was glaring back at him, tits bouncing as she aimed another blow at his head.
“What the fuck, man?” Dean turned back to his demon. The eyes were normal again, and the man was pulling at his arm, trying to work himself free. “Christo.” He said. He didn’t as much as flinch. “Dude, I didn’t know she was your girl, I swear.” Dean stepped back and let go of his grip on the man’s collar.
“Okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Sam dodged another blow.
“Asshole!” the blonde yelled before stomping over. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?” She scooped up her tank top and grabbed the man’s hand. “Come on, baby.” She huffed as she led him away.
Dean stared after the couple. “Okay…” he drawled. “What the hell was that?”
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You give me arthritis and I’ll deck your feathered ass.
Castiel tried to force his hands to relax their grip on the steering wheel. "This isn’t easy for me, you know." he answered back, focusing on the broken yellow line that marked the divider.
Jimmy managed something very close to a sigh. You’re driving on a two-lane highway in the middle of the night, no traffic for miles and the thing is straight as an arrow.
Castiel fought the urge to emphasize the ‘for me’ part of his previous statement. He wasn’t used to traveling this way. After two days on the road it still wasn’t easy. Riding as a passenger was one thing, but actually maneuvering a vehicle was something else entirely.
Robert Singer was laid out in the passenger seat, sleeping. He’d insisted on not stopping on their journey to Louisiana, and after an hour long lesson in the basics of driving, went to sleep. “Just drive like you know how,” he’d grumbled after the fourth time Castiel woke him.
“If something were to happen, it’s unlikely I would be able to repair any physical damage to your or Bobby.”
Fine, shove over then.
It wasn’t so much a shoving, but a letting go. Castiel found himself as a passenger of a different sort. Jimmy flexed his fingers on the steering wheel.
I apologize for your discomfort, James.
When his host didn’t answer Castiel sank further into his mind, which wasn’t far. Before, he could completely submerse himself in his host if he wished. Now, it was more like finding a quiet corner to sit in. He was very much aware of everything James was doing; of the careful pressure he kept on the gas pedal, the way he positioned himself so he was controlling the car primarily with his left hand, the right resting on the gear shift. Amazing, that he expressed such confidence in controlling something that could kill him quite easily in other circumstances.
Will you stop worrying in there? It’s like listening to my mother-in-law.
Images followed the statement. A stern, red haired woman glaring at him the first time he took Amanda out. The way it softened, as days turned to weeks, then to months. The dire warnings she gave them just before the wedding concerning their balls and a kitchen knife if they hurt her daughter.
Castiel pulled himself from the memories. He had never married a human, nor courted one. That was James, his host. This thing that had been done to him, imprisoning him inside his host, was… changing him. His memories were shifting; those of heaven seemed distant, fleeting, while James’ recollections of college and his first internship were crystalline, immediate.
Castiel ran through the meeting he and Bobby had with Rufus hours before. The gruff hunter had been upset, and he hadn’t been able to discern if it was himself, Bobby, or the situation in general. Rufus hadn’t been able to find anything similar in his research, which didn’t surprise the angel. Had another of his brothers been incarcerated in human flesh, his superiors would have made certain everyone knew. Until waking inside Jimmy, he hadn’t known it was even possible.
Their first attempt at freeing him had not gone as planned. Castiel surmised that destroying the sigils would work. He and Bobby spent hours after Rufus left them transcribing the Enochian markings, which covered his entire body. He was able to organize the incantations and picked out the most likely candidate for the one that bound them all. Their work ended with his host having a three-inch scar between his shoulder blades that Bobby had to stitch closed. Without visiting a hospital there was no way of knowing if there were similar markings in their bones.
His, Castiel corrected himself. His bones. You are a wavelength of celestial intent. You have no bones.
Saying that did nothing for the deep ache in them.
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Astaroth lay back in the lounge chair with a small smile. She’d felt the touch of the sun from this distance only once before her punishment, shortly after the Father completed this small speck of existence. When He brought them here to show them His newest creations, to delight in His handiwork. So much had changed since then, but not this. It felt…sensual… the rays seeping into the body of her host, a caress not unlike the feel of another’s grace brushing against her own. The reflection of it off the moon was no less carnal.
“I see you’ve adjusted to this life.”
She didn’t respond, though every part of her fought the urge to stand at attention. Obedience was hardwired into her, like all her brethren. “I see you haven’t.” Astaroth gave the man in front of her a long look. “Did the little girl finally combust, brother?”
He shrugged, hand going to cup a rose bud. “I left her where I found her. She was far too difficult to control once she truly understood. Nick is proving to be far more agreeable.”
Astaroth ignored the lesion already dotting his temple. Agreeable, perhaps, but no more permanent. “How goes the war?” she asked, pretending to read a magazine on gardening. “I hear you’re planning on raising Death.”
“It would be an advantage to have him on our side,” Lucifer explained.
So long as he doesn’t slip your chain and destroy all creation. The angel shifted slightly. The last being that tried to chain death still lived, if you could call wandering the out realms searching for death living.
Lucifer scented the air. “The demons I sent you are gone.”
“I have no use for puling human souls,” Astaroth informed him. “They’ve been given to others.” She settled further into the cushions of the lounger, reveling in the coolness against her back.
Some of the amusement slipped from him. “You’ve done well for yourself since our last meeting, sister.”
Astaroth drew in a deep breath, tired of the game. “What is it you’ve come to ask me?”
Lucifer stalked towards her. “I wasn’t aware that I’d asked before.”
She stood. “You asked that I gather any of our wayward kin to you, and I have done so.”
“And you did well. But there is so much more we need to do. Michael’s vessel will only hold out so long, and mine is proving… difficult to locate. I need-“
“No.”
Lucifer cocked his head to one side. “No?” He repeated, tasting the word.He gave her a half-smile. "Is there a reason for this sudden change of heart? You were very agreeable at our last meeting."
I was afraid, overwhelmed, joyous at being free and terrified at what that meant. "There are things that require my attention here."
The smile widened. "You never were a very good liar, Astaroth." He sighed. "I had a feeling you weren't completely behind our cause. We need you, sister. Our forces are already at the wall, and only the final battle between me and Michael remains."
The angel breathed deeply, felt fear flutter in her chest. “No.”
He moved fast, blindingly so, and caught her jaw in his grip. The physical sensation was dwarfed by his grace burning into her, a keening pain that she hadn’t known since the Fall. “You will do as ordered, Astaroth, or you will be of no use to me.”
She laughed, and something of the sound must have startled him, because the angel loosened his grip. She kept laughing, until the sides of her host ached and he stared at her with something bordering on concern. “Threats, Lucifer?” Astaroth asked, chuckles still shaking her shoulders. “I challenged the Father for you, risked everything for you. I was the first to answer your call to battle, and you threaten me?”
Lucifer tilted his head, expression melted from anger into contrition. “Those are the reasons why your refusal was so… startling to me. I reacted poorly.”
Astaroth looked around her garden, drinking it in. The blooms were glorious, multicolored gems in seas of emerald. The fountain at the center splashed cool, blue water into its basin, silver and gold coy swimming placidly through the stream. The marble of the courtyard had a passing similarity to that in the Halls of Solace in Heaven. There were worst sights, to be sure. “I am tired, Lucifer.” She started. “I have done as you asked. I have fought for you, killed for you. I have served an eternity in darkness for you. I am done with this war, my brother.”
I am done with you.
Lucifer stared at her, past the skin of her vessel and into her grace. There were scars there, scars dating back to the first war, the first battle. She could feel them, even now; deep rivulets that ached constantly no matter where she was, what form she took. In those first moments of freedom, when she realized that the cage that held her was shattered they had keened, sending tremors that still rocked her.
“So you are,” he said finally.
Astaroth waited, for the feel of her vessel being torn asunder, for the oblivion that came an instant before her grace was scattered, but it didn’t happen.
Instead of his sword piercing her host Lucifer sighed, shaking his head. “There are no neutral sides to this war, sister,” he told her. “Michael’s forces will destroy you when you are found.”
“Then they will.”
For the first time since being released from her prison Astaroth allowed herself to look at Lucifer. To look past the glory of his grace, his power. There was darkness in him, darkness that had only grown since their last meeting. There was arrogance there, and hurt, terrible hurt. He would kill, he would maim, and he would burn this world and others to ash because he could not hurt the one who had hurt him. Nothing had changed, not since they were dragged before the Four for their punishment.
I cannot, she longed to say. I cannot return to the darkness, to the silence. I cannot be sent down again. I cannot kill our kin again. Not for you. Not for Him. Not again.
“I wish you well then, sister.” Lucifer said. “If you would do one thing for me. One thing only.”
“What?”
“Sam Winchester has been missing since I rose. If you hear of his whereabouts, will you tell me?”
“Of course.”
When Lucifer’s presence faded Astaroth walked around the fountain, hands drifting in the water. Sam Winchester was in Bon Temps, with his brother.
He would never hear of it from her.
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Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed :)