#CASS SAW THE NAME REALITY TV AND THOUGHT IT WAS A GOOD PLACE TO PICK UP SOCIAL SKILLS TO INTERACT WITH OTHERS… TO THE DISMAY OF BABS | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

noladyme · 3 years

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Skip To My Lou, My Darling - Chapter 5, Bloody Demons I

Disclaimer: I posted this story a few days ago, hating it, and regretting it the minute it was up. I re-wrote it, and hope you’ll like it.

The road so far…

Waitress. School teacher. Bartender. Hunter. Lulu has come a long way since she first met the Winchesters, including the father, John. Having left behind the occult for a life of peace, she was ripped out of it, when – once again – the Winchesters came in to her life. Realizing she is in the life now – for good – she also made a decision for herself. To live that life without the only man she has ever truly cared for. Both to keep him and his brother safe from leviathans, angels and demons; but also, because she doesn’t trust that her feelings for Dean are true – and not part of some higher plan set up by celestial powers.

Our story continues in season 8

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added) @edonaspanca @wonderlandfandomkingdom

You’d be surprised how much info you can get in a library. This statement might seem ridiculous, because – of course – a library holds all the knowledge in the world. But there’s more than what you can find in books. There’s peoplewatching.

If you look at what people check out, you’ll learn a lot about them. That middle aged woman checking out a book on auto repairs – her car broke down, and he husband usually takes care of those kinds of things; but now he’s left her for a younger woman. The teenage boy with the masses of comic books in his arms – odds are there is at least one My Little Pony comic among them, that he’s too embarrassed to buy at a store; so he goes to the library to get it, hiding it among comics about big breasted women and superheroes. The woman sitting alone at a table with a massive paper cup of black coffee; surrounded by books on local history and papers and notes on the occult – if you came into the library on that specific day; that was me. And I was hunting a ghost.

I’d spent more than a year salting and burning my way across the states; avoiding any real fights, and sticking to the easier and more obvious cases, where all I needed was to open a grave, and take care of the bones. Managing to convince my ex, Pete – who was still reeling from the traumatic temporary memory loss he’d suffered, after being kidnapped by leviathans – to send my belongings to my friends in San Francisco; I was now free to disappear for good. No strings attached; save for the occasional call to Raul – letting him know I was alive, and still serving beer in Alaska. In reality, I was in Hartford, near Sioux Falls, South Dakota; having just picked up a box of old papers stood in the basement of a good acquaintance.

“How was your visit with the good sheriff?”, a female voice asked me. I jumped in my seat; having been deeply invested in a piece of paper scribbled over with rantings of what seemed like a madman – who’s every tenth word was balls. “Jesus Christ, Tamara”, I hissed. “You scared the crap out of me!”. My friend sat down across from me, and took the paper from my hand. “Bobby Singer… I still can’t believe what happened to him”, Tamara said sadly.

I rested my elbow on the table, and took a sip from my coffee. “When did you last see him?”, I asked. Tamara’s face was ghosted with sadness, before she met my eyes. “Years ago. Back when Isaac…”. She didn’t finish the sentence. “You never told me what happened to him”, I said. “I mean, you don’t have to…”. She smiled slightly. “It’s all right”, she said. “Demons. We were working on taking out a whole group of them, when… he didn’t make it”. She sighed. “Bobby was there; along with some younger lads… Sam and Dean Winchester. Heard of them?”.

It had been a long time since I’d heard those names. Even Jody didn’t mention them to me, when I checked in with her – as she’d insisted I do weekly, after that one time I called her from the ER, telling her about a tulpa in Minnesota; that I needed her to have the brothers check out. I’d had no idea what to do with it; and had ended up with a nasty gash down my ribs. She’d told me she hadn’t been in touch with them for months, and didn’t know how to reach them at the moment. I’d thanked her, but when she heard the sadness in my voice, she’d insisted on picking me up, and I’d spent a few days on her couch; eating lasagna and watching daytime tv. I’d been too afraid to decline, when she used her mom-voice on me.

I swallowed hard. “You worked with them?”, I muttered. “Only that once”, Tamara said. “Why, you know them?”. The corner of my lip twitched. “I saw that!”, Tamara gasped. “What?”, I croaked. “Which one…?”, she whispered. “Sam… he’s got that tall broody thing going”. She smirked at me as I looked away. “Oh… Dean… Sure you didn’t catch anything?”. “Tammy!”, I hissed. “Don’t you Tammy me!”, she retorted. “That car… is it to compensate; or does he not need that…?”. I met her eyes, and gave her a crooked smile. She grinned widely at me. I shook my head. “I have work to do”, I muttered.

Forcing myself to ignore the memory of Dean and his car – and Dean in his car; with me on his lap – I returned to the 1950 death of a young woman, who had ever since been seen, once a year, walking over a bridge near a lover’s lane. Tamara sighed. “I need to get to Kansas”. “That vampire nest?”, I asked, taking another large sip of my coffee. She nodded. “You sure you don’t want to join me? Girls trip?”, she asked. “You have all the help you need up there; and I never took down a vamp before. I’d just get in the way”, I answered. “But thank you for the ride here”, I added.

She stood up. “You, my friend, need a car!”. “Yeah… Digging up old graves and reading weird books doesn’t exactly pay well”, I muttered. The last car I’d had, had broken down three months earlier. She looked at me with worried eyes. “You can’t keep hitch-hiking across the country, love”, she said. “Bloody dangerous, that is”. “I’ll be fine. Really”, I smiled. I stood up, and hugged my friend goodbye; and promised to call if anything came up, she needed to help out with.

I took a bus back to my motel, and settled in for the night; with a beer and some day-old pizza. My burner-phone buzzed; and recognizing the number, I picked up. “Hey, Jody”, I said. “Did I forget something at your place?”. “Hey, sweetie. Uhm…”. “What? Jody…”, I demanded. “I just had a visit from a weird guy in a flasher-coat… he was looking for you”, she said. Castiel, I thought to myself – my heart leaping from my chest. “What did he… Did he hurt you?”, I asked; by instinct reaching for the angel sword. “No… But he wanted to know where you were”. She sighed. “Look, I don’t mind being your switchboard receptionist; god knows, things around here can get downright dull. But this guy…”. I chewed my lip. “I’m sorry, Jody… Did you tell him where I was?”, I asked. She scoffed. “You won’t even tell me yourself. How could I?”.

I sighed; unsure whether it was in relief, or something else. “You know, I’m aware you’re close by… I could just check all motels in a 40-mile radius for check-ins by classic rock superstars…”, Jody said, a smile in her voice. “Going full cop on me?”, I grinned. “I don’t use those anymore… too obvious”. “Burlesque names then?”, she said. “You caught me…”, I replied. As it was, I was checked in as Justinia Timberlake; going with boybands – for reasons I didn’t want to admit to myself. “Thanks, ma’…”. “Well, that makes me feel old… Anyway, he said he’d be back later tonight. Needed to find you. Do you want to be found by him?”.

I took a deep breath, pondering the question. No, I didn’t want to be found by the person who’d let leviathans loose on the world; causing me to be almost eaten by one 18 months ago. Yes, I wanted to see my friend; to know he was ok. He hadn’t hurt Jody to get to me, so maybe he was good Cass again. I sighed. “When he comes, tell him… Tell him I’ll be in the shower at the Motel 6 in Hartford. Room 13”. I’d know when he arrived if I could trust him. “That sounds… Ok, I’ll tell him. Be careful, Lulu”. “I will. Bye, Jody”. I hung up; and began preparations.

---

Bobby’s journal had helped me out quite a bit in the last year, helping me keep under the radar by pointing out which motels were off the beaten path; and which monsters to stay clear of. Even after it seemed the leviathans had disappeared, I still kept well away from anyone and everything that might put me in contact with angels and demons – and the Winchesters for that matter.

Another thing it had taught me was the sigil I was currently writing on the wall; while still wincing in pain from the gash in my palm I’d cut to draw blood. All my belongings were in my backpack – which I was wearing – and my sword was in my hand. I was ready to repel a crazy angel; and to skip town quickly. I took a deep breath, and readied myself.

After what seemed like forever – just standing next to a bloody scribbling on a wall – I felt a gush of wind; and Castiel stood in front of me. He was covering his eyes with one hand, and holding out a towel with the other. The sight brought joyous tears to my eyes.

“Cass…”, I breathed. The angel carefully parted the fingers over his eyes – and satisfied that I was indeed dressed – he dropped the towel, and smiled at me. “Lulu. It is good to see you”. I dropped my sword, and leapt over to embrace my friend. Castiel reacted as he’d always done when I showed him affection; by tensing up, and gently patting my head. He smelled like old librarian mixed with fresh air, and – for some reason – musk and gunpowder. He’d been with them.

I let go of him, and stepped back. “What happened? Are you ok?”, I asked. The angel smiled amiably. “Yes. I am… myself again”, he said. “I have to apologize for our last meeting. I was… different”. I gave him a crooked smile. “I wish I could say it was water under the bridge, but you did kind of bad-touch me”, I said. “Not sexually, I mean… but still”. Cass chuckled. It was a strange – almost human – reaction. “Yes, I carved words into your bones. It is also why I haven’t been able to find you”.

I took off my backpack, and got out the small first aid kit I had in it. Castiel frowned. “I’m sorry, but I can’t heal you. I need to save my strength”. I shrugged. “It’s fine. I’ve been taking care of my own wounds for over a year”. “Yes, that is what others have told us…”. My breath hitched, and I tried to seem indifferent. “Us?”, I croaked; and began running a bandage around my hand. “Yes”, Cass nodded. “Me, Sam… and Dean. We’ve been looking for you for a few weeks. We need… your book. Bobby Singer’s book”. Just the book. Of course, it was just that. “We are working on… something”. I let out a scoffing laugh. “Well call me not surprised”, I said.

Cass stepped towards me. “So… you’ll give me the book?”. I narrowed my eyes at him. “No”. “No?”, Cass retorted with a confused look at me. “That’s right”, I smiled. “It’s mine”. “But… we need it”.

I took a deep breath; and made a decision. “Where the book goes, I go… So, I’ll go with you”. Castiel’s eyes lit up. “You will? That’s… good. I think”, he smiled. “I can take you right away”. He stepped towards me. “Wait, stop!”, I said. Cass halted. “Where?”. “Lawrence, Kansas. It’s a safe place, don’t worry”, the angel smiled.

I looked down at my feet. I was wearing my boots; that was good. I packed up my backpack, and put it on my back. I picked up the box of Bobby’s old papers; but Cass took them from me, so I wouldn’t have to carry them. “Ok… let’s go”, I croaked.

Castiel lifted an arm, and walked towards me; putting his hand on my shoulder.

---

We were standing by a large mound with what looked like an old factory building seemingly growing out of it. My legs felt like jelly, and Cass grabbed my arm to steady me. “We’re here”, he said. “Where’s here?”, I asked breathily. “I’ll show you”, Cass smiled. We walked up a small road, and passed a black car I recognized from my past – and my dreams and nightmares. Cass led me to a metal door sprouting from the mound. “It’s inside”, he muttered, and opened the screeching door for me.

I stepped inside and was met by a dark spiral staircase leading downwards. Castiel walked ahead of me; which I was thankful for, as I didn’t trust my own legs, and would rather be caught by him, than fall and break my neck. Suddenly a warm light hit me, and I stepped out on a balcony overlooking a large room outfitted with a large table made out as a map. The scent of library hit me, and I understood why Castiel had smelled the way he did when I hugged him. The large room was warm and inviting; but also looked very official, with it’s filing cabinets, and papers on the table.

Castiel walked ahead of me down another flight of stairs, and put the box of papers on the mapped table. “I’m back!”, he called out. “About time!”, a voice that sent shivers down my spine growled. “Please tell us you got something. At least dinner”. “I’m afraid I didn’t have the time to get food for you”, Cass said, and walked towards a large archway leading to another room further inside the bunker – as I decided this place was. “Dude, I gave you 20 bucks for burgers!”.

I considered turning around and leaving. I screamed at myself internally to just haul ass up the stairs, and never come back. But I couldn’t.

Castiel stood in the archway, and looked up at me. “I brought the journal… And a guest”. “You shouldn’t bring people here”, I heard Sam’s voice. My heart pounded, as I heard footsteps across hardwood floor; and then my 6’4 friend stood in the archway with the angel; looking the direction he was. His jaw instantly dropped, and his eyes sparkled.

“I want my 20 bucks back, dude”, Dean said as he joined the other two. “I could eat a…”. He looked up. “Lou…”. Castiel frowned. “You can’t eat…”. “Shut up”, Dean croaked, stepping down the few stairs into the large concrete floored room.

I took a gasping breath; having to remind myself to breathe at all. “Hi…”, I rasped. Dean seemed unsure what to say. “Hey…?”. I began descending the stairs into the room; taking care to hit every step just so, so I wouldn’t trip. Before I hit the last step; Dean took four long strides towards me – and threw his arms around me – holding me tight against him. I put my arms around his neck, and he lifted me down the last steps. Musk, gunpowder, whiskey – Dean. My warm, constantly five o’clock shadowed, strong; yet so fragile, Dean.

I had to tear myself from him; taking short breaths, and trying desperately not to inhale him even further. It was agony. His eyes where as deep and soulful as ever, and the corner of his lip lifted; giving him an expression I couldn’t define as whether being relief, joy or pain – or maybe all three at once.

“Lulu?”, Sam croaked from behind me. I turned around, and threw myself into his arms, earning a spin in the air, as he lifted me. “Hi, Sammy”, I breathed. He squeezed me tightly. “Air!”, I gasped. “Sorry”, Sam chuckled, and put me down; before stroking my cheek.

All four of us stood for a moment, before Castiel cleared his throat. “Well, Lulu is here now. She has the book”, he said. “We can get on with our work”. “Just give us a moment here, Cass”, Sam said. “How are you, Lulu? We’ve been looking for you”. ”You shouldn’t have”, I muttered. “I know, you made that pretty clear last time we heard from you. But…”, Sam began. “We need Bobby’s book”, Dean said; having stepped up next to me. Right, the book.

I raised a brow at him. “My book. And you can’t have it”, I said. Dean frowned. “But… we need it”, he said. “So do I”, I retorted. He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Why does it feel like we’ve had this conversation before?”. “Because we did, agent Osbourne”, I chuckled. “Right”, he smiled.

Sam – who apparently just needed a bucket of popcorn for the entertainment he was getting from our conversation – stifled a smile. “Lulu, we’re working on something pretty big here”, he said. “What?”, I asked. “Saving humanity”, Dean said. “Again?”, I sighed. Sam let out a soft laugh. “Wouldn’t be us if it wasn’t, right?”.

I walked up the stairs into the other room, which walls were covered in filing cabinets and books. “What is this place?”, I asked, in awe. Sam followed me into the room. “This is The Men of Letter’s bunker”. “Who are they?”. “Us… now”, Dean shrugged. “We’re kind of like a secret society”. His smugness was tangent of embarrassing. “Look, we’ll fill you in on whatever you want…”, Sam began. Dean cleared his throat, and suddenly looked at his brother with hard eyes.

I rolled my eyes. “This again…”, I muttered. Dean frowned. “What?”. “We need to keep you safe. Keep your head low. Stay here. Go there”, I imitated his growling. “I don’t sound like that!”, Dean growled; proving my impersonation had been right on. He frowned at me, looking cute as a button doing so. I sent him a pouting smile. “Whatever. We need the book”. “And I told you. You can’t have it. I need it”. “For what?”, he grunted. “For jobs”, I replied.

Dean pursed his lips, and blew out a deep breath; clearly trying to control himself. “So you have been… doing jobs…”. “Of course I have”, I said. “What else am I supposed to do? Officially, I think I’m probably dead. There aren’t a lot of teaching gigs out there for dead chicks, who hit the road with fugitives”. He stepped over to me, and grabbed my hand. “And what’s this?”, he asked, pointing at the bandage on it. “A precaution”, I said. “Against me”, Castiel said. “Lulu was right to be careful. Last time she saw me…”. He looked down in remembrance; clearly still ashamed of his former actions.

Dean unwrapped my hand. “Sam, this needs stitches”, he grunted. I tore my hand from his grasp. “I’m fine”, I muttered. “You’re not fine, Lulu. You’re bleeding. Just let us fix you up”. I shook my head in surrender. “There’s a needle and some floss in my bag”, I said, and took of my backpack. “We have actual medical supplies now”, Sam smiled, and disappeared through a door.

Castiel slipped away as well, leaving me and Dean alone in the large room. I sat down at one of the large tables. Dean sat on the edge of the table. “So, hunting?”, he muttered. “How’s that treating you?”. “Well enough”, I said. He clenched his jaw. “Huh… How do you take down a werewolf?”, he asked. “Silver bullet”, I said. “Vampire?”, he continued, raising a brow at me. “Decapitation or fire”. “Shojo?”.

I let out a frustrated breath. “I have no idea, Dean. Never met one”, I said. “Never met a werewolf or a vampire either”. “Good, you’re not ready for any of that”, he said. “You shouldn’t even be here right now”. “It’s not safe”, I imitated him again. “Stop”, he grunted. “You have no idea how to be a hunter. Or what you’re getting yourself mixed up in by coming back here with Cass”. I clenched my jaw. “You’re right on one of those two accounts”, I said. “No, I don’t know what you’re working on, and it’s probably much to dangerous for me. But yes – I do know how to hunt. At least partly. And I’m learning as I go. Isn’t that what everybody does?”. He scoffed, and shook his head with a sarcastic smile. “In over your head, sugar”. “Screw you, Dean”, I growled.

I got of my chair; almost making it topple over from the force of my movement. “I have been working jobs all over for a long time now”, I hissed. “I’ve been playing it safe, yes; but what I’ve been doing, matters!”. Dean rolled his eyes. “Lou, you’re…”, he began. “A newbie. Unskilled, untrained; and with a desperate need for better equipment than the .45 you gave me 18 months ago”. I drew my lips back in a sneer. “But I’m not an idiot, and I don’t want to die. I’m not gonna throw myself at monsters I know nothing about, and can’t take down. But I have to learn to survive in this job, and I’m learning by working”. He shook his head. “You have no idea what you’re talking about”. “Then tell me!”, I yelled.

Dean suddenly laughed. The gesture made me want to smack him across the face, but my hand still hurt from the cut. I snatched Bobby’s journal from my bag, and held it up. “You want this?”, I snarled. “Then you treat me with a little more respect for what I’ve been doing the last year!”. I grabbed my bag, and stormed towards the stairs. “Lou!”, Dean called after me. “Go to Hell…! Again!”, I yelled over my shoulder.

I heard him run after me, and he grabbed my arm. “I’m sorry”, he said. “Really…”. I turned around to face him. “I don’t need your permission to do something I’m actually kind of good at”, I said. “You don’t know…”. “You’re right. I don’t”, Dean said earnestly. “So, tell me… please. Maybe I… we can help”. I calmed my breathing. “Let go of my arm”, I croaked. He instantly stepped back.

Sam returned with a box. “We’re out of disinfectant”, he said. “Whiskey it is”, I muttered. “Please tell me you have that”.

---

Soon after, we were seated at the big table; as Sam was carefully stitching up my hand. “So, Ohio… ow! Bloody hell, Sam!”, I hissed, as he poked the needle through my skin. “New curse words, Lou”, Dean chuckled. “And fancy English ones as well”. I smiled. “Yeah, speaking of Ohio… ow”, I continued. “A crazy nurse had been killing patients in the 40’s; and the hospital was closing down – pissing her off something fierce… ow”. “Sorry”, Sam muttered, and pulled at the surgical thread. Dean poured me another drink. “Go on”, he said.

“She was suddenly nabbing pretty much every and any patient she could”, I said; before taking a sip of the whiskey. “I was looking up where they’d buried her after her execution, but it turned out she’d been cremated”. “What did you do?”, Sam asked. He made a final stitch. “Remind me to smack you across the face, when this heals up”, I muttered. “That hurt!”. He chuckled at me, and began wrapping up my hand in a clean bandage. “I found out from an old picture that she had a locket around her neck; which they took from her before she died. It was displayed at a museum in Dayton; and when I tracked it down, I met another hunter”. I looked up at Dean. “Tamara”.

Dean looked stunned. “Tamara? As in British Tamara?”. “Yeah”, I smiled. “She’d gotten there before me; and like me, suspected a strand of hair might be stuck in the locket. I distracted the security guy long enough for her to nab it”. “How?”, he frowned. I looked at him innocently, biting my lip. He looked at me exasperatedly. “You didn’t… Please tell me you didn’t…”. I rolled my eyes. “Sleep with him? No. I just flirted with him a little”. Dean swallowed hard. “You do that all the time”, Sam grinned. “That’s totally different!”, Dean growled.

Sam shook his head. “Then what?”, he asked. “Salt and burn”, I smiled. “Which is pretty much all I’ve been doing. I haven’t been taking on anything hardcore. Yet”. “Really?”, Dean asked warily. I grimaced. “Well… about 9 months ago I came across a tulpa. I thought it was just your every day ghost, and I was just checking out the house; when it attacked me. Salt didn’t work, or iron…”. Dean suddenly looked tense. “What did it do to you?”, he growled. I lifted my t-shirt slightly; exposing a mostly white scar down my ribs. Dean reached over the table, and made to touch it, but I dropped the fabric, and sat back in my chair; finishing my drink in one go. “I had no idea what to do about it, but Bobby wrote something about you guys taking one out some years back; so I called Jody”.

“I asked the sheriff to help me find Lulu”, Cass said, having reappeared with a bag of Mexican food. “I have… taquitos. And jalapeño poppers”, he added, with a soft smile in my direction. “Ranch?”, I asked. The angel nodded. “I love you!”. Castiel cleared his throat. “I have warm emotions towards you as well”, he said.

“So, you called Jody. Why?”, Sam asked; packing up the medical kit. “To get her to have you take care of it. But she said she couldn’t get in touch with you”. Dean scratched his chin. “Yeah, Cass and I were in Purgatory, and Sam hit a dog…”, he muttered. I shook my head. “Nothing’s ever easy with you guys, is it…”.

I opened the bag Castiel had put on the table, and dived for my poppers. “Yum. Extra cheese”, I hummed. I noticed Dean’s eyes warming almost endearingly; but when I licked my finger for a stray dollop of dressing, his gaze suddenly darkened into something else. He parted his lips, and his eyes fastened on my mouth. My breath hitched, and I shook myself – quickly wiping my mouth with a napkin. “I’m gonna go grab the beer”, Dean grunted; and left the room as quickly as he could.

“So, what are you working on?”, my voice broke. “We found a tablet”, Sam said. “The word of God”. My eyes widened. “The actual word of God?”, I breathed. “What?”. “We’re going to use it to seal Hell. For good”. I nodded. “That sounds like an awesome idea!”, I smiled. “How can I help?”.

“You can’t”, Dean grunted, returning with three beers, and a bottle of seltzer for Cass. “This isn’t on you”. “But you need my book”, I said. “And you’re not getting that without my say so”. He tilted his head, and gave me his trademark smirk, sending electric jolts straight to my core. “We could always take it from you”. With bated breath, I put my sword on the table; keeping my hand on the hilt. “I’d like to see you try”, I croaked. “All right, you know…”. Dean clenched his fists, before rolling up his sleeves. I stood up. “We gonna dance now?”, I said; trying for menacing – and failing miserably. “Let me just get my NSYNC-album”, he snarled.

“Ok, guys! Stop!”, Sam called out. “Lulu, Dean’s right. This is a pretty dangerous operation we’ve got going on here. You shouldn’t get involved”.

I clenched my jaw, and took a deep breath to calm myself. “Tell you what… I’ll go back to my own work; and you three can figure out how to save the world without Bobby’s journal”, I said; beginning to put my jacket back on. “When you decide to stop acting like dicks, and let me in on why you’re trying to mess up my job, by taking away my research…”. “It’s Bobby’s research”, Dean snarled. “That he left for me!”, I yelled. “And it has my additions”. I went to grab my bag, when Dean snatched the journal from it, before I could reach it. He held it over his head, as he had my sword, years ago. “Don’t do this…”, I hissed. “I watched plenty of roller derby games, sweetheart. I know your moves”.

His smug smile lit a fire in me, like none other I had never felt before. I ran at him, throwing my shoulder against his chest, making him stumble backwards, and knock over a chair. The journal fell from his hand, and slid across the floor; and I threw myself after it. Dean grabbed my ankle; and I fell to the floor, on my stomach. I tried to kick myself free from his grasp – and reached the book; clutching it to my chest under me. Dean straddled me – his strong legs keeping me in place – and he twisted my body around by my shoulders. We wrestled for the books, and when Dean grabbed my wrists – forcing them over my head – I finally had to let go. He looked at me with hard eyes. “Take it”, he growled; still holding me in place. “Dean…!”, Sam yelled; running over to us. “Take it, Sam!”, his brother roared. Sam took the book from the floor, and looked at me with sad eyes. “I’m sorry, Lulu”, he muttered.

Dean stayed on top of me – holding me down. His weight on me made my body scream for his touch; at the same time as I wanted him to let me go, and to never touch me again. He looked enraged; but then a thought seemed to cross his mind – one that made him realize what he was doing. He let go of my wrists, and I pushed at his chest hard; making him get off me. Castiel came over, and helped me to my feet.

I stormed out of the room, and down a hallway of doors with numbers on them. Once I found number 13, I opened the door, and stepped inside; slamming it shut behind me.

I took deep breaths – fighting tears and hiccupping sobs. Looking around the room, I tried to focus on what I was seeing, to distract myself. Damn self-help books, I thought to myself. Please help me now. Five things I could see. A bed, a desk, a chair, a book on 1920’s psychiatry, and a dresser. Four things I could touch. I stood up. The floor, the wall, the comforter on the bed, and the gun in the back of my jeans. Three things I could hear. The clock ticking over the door, the drips from the faucet on the sink, and my own footsteps. Two things I could smell. Gunpowder and musk. Dammit. One thing I could taste. The whiskey I’d had earlier.

With one final breath, I felt my heart settle – before it sprang up in my throat again, when the door knocked. “Lou…? Can I come in?”. I stood with my back to the door, not answering. “I know you’re in there. Table 13; always table 13, right?”.

Dean opened the door, and stepped inside, closing it behind him.

“I’m sorry, baby… I didn’t mean…”, he began. “I still… It hurts… even being in the same room as you”, I croaked, and a tear fell down my cheek, as I turned around – making Dean’s face fall into a pained expression. “I keep trying to get over you… Hunting, drinking… sex”. He winced at the last word. “I tried it all, Dean, but it never works”. “I know…”, he breathed. He might as well have added an I feel the same – his eyes gave away the words. “Why doesn’t it work?”, I whimpered.

He stepped towards me, but I held up my hands to stop him. “Don’t… please”. I balled my fists up – forcing my body to stay in place, and not walk into his arms. “You can use my book. You have 48 hours, then I want it back”. Dean nodded solemnly. I closed my eyes. “After that, I’m gone. For good”. I crunched up my brows, and opened my eyes again, looking at Dean with as much determination I could muster. “You don’t look for me, don’t ask for me – pretend I’m a stranger if you hear my name”. Dean’s lips parted, but I continued before he could speak. “I’m done. I can’t… see you. It hurts to much”.

Dean’s eyes watered. “Lou, please… don’t do this”, he breathed. “Don’t throw me away like this”. “I’m sorry”, I rasped. “This isn’t real. If they hadn’t planned it, we would have never gone beyond that first kiss; you know it as well as I do”. He shook his head, and a tear escaped his eye. “I lo…”. “You don’t”, I said. “You think you do; but it’s only because I was made for you. I have to be my own. And I can’t, if you keep popping up in my life”.

Dean closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. When he looked at me again, I saw complete defeat in his gaze. I’d just broken his heart. “Ok. If that’s what you want”, he whispered, a tear escaping his eye. I wanted to say It’s not. I want you. I want us. But I needed a clean break, and I believed Dean needed that as well. “48 hours. Give me back the book, and you’ll never have to see me again. It’s better this way. For both of us”. Dean nodded. “You can stay in here, if it’s easier than being around me”, he muttered; eyes on the floor. “I’ll stay away”. “Thank you”, I croaked.

He left the room, and I closed the door behind him.

---

I stayed in the room for hours, curled up on the bed. At one point, there was a knock at the door; and when I opened, there stood a tray outside, with food and a bottle of seltzer. I sent a warm thought to Cass, and took the tray inside; eating my meal in peace. There was no entertainment in the room – save for the outdated book on psychiatry – and after finishing my meal, I was going stir crazy.

I tried to catch a little sleep, but couldn’t rest properly; and decided to leave the room. Avoiding going in to the library, I snuck down the hall; and examined my surroundings. I found a large kitchen, outfitted to serve a large amount of people. The fridge was filled with leftover fast food and beer; making it clear that the Winchesters had yet to become all the way domesticated. Down a smaller hallway was a large storage room, with things I was quite sure I shouldn’t be touching. I left the room as quickly as I had entered.

Passing another few numbered doors, I went past number 21. The door was slightly ajar, and inside, Sam was bent over Bobby’s journal, seemingly enraptured by what he was reading. He looked up, and met my eyes – sending me a crooked smile – before I hurried away, to avoid conversation. He didn’t follow.

I found what looked like an old-fashioned gym; and my eyes widened in glee. Here, I felt at home. The punching bags and boxing gloves reminded me of my sessions with Raul. I took off my boots, and grabbed a pair of gloves that seemed to fit my hands – turning my attention to one of the bags.

Punch, punch, kick. This I knew. All my frustrations – the pent-up emotions – I let travel through my arms and legs; as I attacked the bag. “You’re angry”, Cass said; having appeared in the doorway. “I’m… no”, I said. “You’re distraught”, the angel tried. “Something like that. I’m sad. Frustrated…”. I punched hard at the bag. “Tired”.

Muscle pain was building up in my shoulders, and I took off the gloves; dropping them on the floor next to me. “I thought you would be happy to see your friends”, Castiel said. I was thinking of a good way to explain my emotions to him. “I can’t… be happy. Not now”. “Why?”, Cass asked. I chuckled. “Talking to you is like talking to Rain Man”, I said. Castiel grinned. “I’ve seen that movie now. Uh oh, fart…”, he chuckled. “But I would like to understand”.

I punched the bag hard with my stitched-up hand; wincing from the pain. I held it up for Castiel to see. “This – pain – I can feel it. It’s real”, I said. “Impact… physical reaction… It makes sense”. “And happiness doesn’t?”, Cass asked. “No, because I can’t trust it… it’s not real”. Castiel looked like he was pondering my words. “But your physical interactions with Dean… those make sense, don’t they?”. I groaned. “Me and Dean… Is… was, more than physical”. “Yes I know”, the angel said. “You have feelings for each other”. “But they’re not real”, I explained. “Why not?”. “You should know”, I scoffed. “Angel…”.

Castiel seemed even more confused. “I’m not following”, he said. I shook my head. “I… just can’t do this anymore”, I breathed. I put my boots back on. “I’m going back to my room. You have about 40 hours left with my book”. I left the room and the angel behind.

I was feeling sweaty, and decided to search for a shower. The many hallways were confusing; and I finally caved, and decided to ask Sam for help. Arriving back at room 21, the door was closed, and when I knocked there was no answer. I opened the door to see if he was inside, but all I found was a made bed, and some clothes over a chair. I walked back towards the kitchen, and bumped in to Dean; who was leaving the room with a mug of coffee in his hand.

“Sorry”, I muttered, as I noticed his coffee having spilt slightly over the floor. “I’ll clean that up”. “Don’t worry about it”, he said quietly. “I got it…”. “Ok”, I nodded. “I just…”. He looked at me hopefully. “I was looking for a shower”. Dean nodded. “Down the hall, to the left by my… by room 11”, he said. “Thank you”, I whispered; and scurried off.

Finally finding the showers, I got undressed, and turned on the water. The water pressure and temperature were amazing; just like everything else in the bunker. So far, everything I had seen here was perfect. There were clean rooms, a well-stocked library, access to training equipment and weapons, and my friends were here. And Dean. I could stay here, and be happy. But it wouldn’t be real.

As I let the water drip over my naked body, I leaned against the wall. I began questioning my choice to continue hunting. I’d have never started in the life, if I hadn’t met the Winchesters – if angels hadn’t put me in their path. Maybe angels had sent the maren after me to begin with. Maybe I should quit.

The thought was comforting and terrifying all at once. I’d have to start over – again. Be a teacher or tend bars; that was all I knew, other than what I had been doing the last year. And I loved hunting, I helped people; even if I never let anyone know why their houses stopped having flickering lights; or why hospitals stopped losing patients who had only minor injuries. I stayed quiet about what I did; didn’t need the glory.

Turning off the water, I realized I hadn’t brought clean clothes into the bathroom; and wrapped myself in a large towel – slipping quietly down the hall to avoid meeting anyone. I passed room 11, and heard voices from inside.

“She doesn’t really want to be here, Cass”, Dean muttered. “Why? I don’t understand. You two…”, Castiel began. “Because it’s not real!”, Dean growled. “Your… ass-butt brothers made her specifically for me. It’s not real, it’s forced on me… and her”. “Dean…”. “Find some way to break this bond we have. It’s not fair to her…”, Dean said. “I can’t do that…”, Cass said quietly. “Why?”, Dean roared. There was no answer. “Cass… just get out”. The door began opening, as if someone was pulling at the knob, and I ran for room 13; closing and locking the door behind me.

Good. He was on the same page as me. And maybe there was a way to break our bond; and make me free of these feelings. Maybe Cass just didn’t know how to, and I just had to find another angel – or whatever – to help.

My phone rang – distracting me from my thoughts. “Yeah?”, I answered it. “Lulu. It’s Tamara”, my friend said. “Hey, Tammy. What’s up?”. “I need your help. My partner didn’t show up; and this nest isn’t a one-woman job”. I sighed. “Tammy…”. “I know, I know; but I really need you on this one. Think of it as a learning experience”. I frowned. It would be a good way to learn, I agreed – and I trusted Tamara knew what she was doing. On top of that, I needed to be as far away from Dean as I could. “Give me the address…”.

After Tamara had let me know where to meet her, I got dressed quickly, and put on my jacket. Almost running through the library, I saw Sam now bent over a strange looking rock, by the mapped table. “I’m going out. I’ll be back for my book”, I muttered, and went to get my backpack, when I realized it was missing. “I packed up a bag”, Sam said. “It’s got some better equipment for you; if you’re gonna keep up hunting”. I looked over my shoulder at him. “Thanks”, I muttered. “Welcome”, he said.

He handed me a canvas backpack, with a little more weight than my own. I opened it, and saw bullets and a large knife, and a machete in a leather sheath. “Silver ammo, iron knife; and there’s a zippo in the side pocket”. “Weres, witches and vampires. Got it”, I said; and put on the bag. Sam frowned. “Where are you going?”. “Just… out. Meeting a friend”, I said. “Do you have a car I can use until I get back?” He threw me a set of car keys. “There’s a Dodge parked a little way down the road. Take it. And uhm… my number. Just in case”. He scribbled down a number on a piece of paper, and came over to hand it to me. I smiled warmly, and pocketed the keys and the note. “How long will you be gone?”, Sam muttered. “As long as it takes. That’s how the job is, right?”, I shrugged. Sam’s face dropped. “What job?”, he demanded. I sighed. “Don’t worry. Your care-package here will keep me safe”, I smiled. “I’ll be back before you know it. Maybe you’ll even have a few extra hours with my book”. “Lulu… what job?”. I got on my toes, and kissed his cheek. “Bye, Sammy”. I ran up the stairs, and exited the bunker.

I found my “new” car half a mile down the road. It was rusty and sad looking; and fit my state of mind perfectly at the moment. I got settled in the driver’s seat, after having set the Dodge up the way I wanted it. Surprisingly, the engine started without trouble; and I turned on the radio. Dean must have driven the car before, because a tape began playing Girls Girls Girls. I was smiling sadly to myself, as I drove the car out on the road at the bottom of the mound.

---

#dean winchester fic #dean winchester x oc #dean winchester #dean x oc #sam winchester #supernatural #supernatural fic

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kootenaygoon · 5 years

Photo

So,

At first, I was nervous about tackling news stories.

I knew the stakes from my summers at the Whitehorse Star, had seen how small fuck-ups could have large consequences. Telling someone else’s story is a huge privilege, a power you have over them, and it can be intoxicating. But if you do it wrong, you will hear about it. I preferred the lighter elements of the job, like taking pictures at the Pride Parade or typing up an exhaustive feature on the Capitol Theatre’s production of Chicago. I was a hype machine, excitedly Photoshopping my images and then sprawling back in my desk chair with the newly printed paper’s pages flung open to reveal my handiwork. I floated through the summer of 2014 high on the experience of it all, letting myself fall in love with each new artist I interviewed.

Some people believed the proliferation of artists in the Nelson area was thanks to the town being situated on a bed of magical quartz, but I figured it was more a case of kindreds being attracted to one another. People were looking for a life less ordinary, far from the city. Most locals had some sort of regular job and then spent the remainder of their time investing in creative endeavours, whether that meant painting a mural, starting a food truck or playing in an 80s cover band called Val Kilmer and the New Coke. I started learning the names of local authors, meeting up with poet Tom Wayman and short story writer Myler Wilkenson. I wrote a feature about a photographer named Ryan Oakley who had crowd-funded a book called Humans of Nelson, based on the viral hit Humans of New York. It featured daily portraits of people he met during his lunch breaks, along with a pithy quote that captured their essence. One young singer named Anilah had just landed her Enya-esque tracks on some TV show, a spoken word poet named Magpie Ulysses was releasing a chapbook and a popular saxophonist named Clinton Swanson was playing relentless gigs around town. I giddily funnelled their stories on to Facebook and Twitter, where I obsessively watched the engagement numbers climb. Within a month or two our web presence had exploded, and pretty soon Calvin was bragging that we had the best social media numbers in the Kootenays.

But every now and then, things got dark. The first heavy story that landed on my desk involved a quartet of teenagers who had gone missing the day before I arrived in town. It was eventually discovered that they’d commandeered a canoe and gone adventuring right into a windstorm on Slocan Lake—a body of water so enormous it almost looks like the ocean in places. Authorities were able to recover the canoe pretty quickly, and found a young girl near death. Though they rushed her to medical services, she died in the hospital. There was no trace of the others, three dudes ranging in age from late teens to early twenties. The grief was heavy in the community, and right away I felt it settle in my chest — a clenched fist of empathy. I interviewed the RCMP as they conducted a large-scale search, checking in each day to hear if there was anything to report. At one point it looked like they were going to call it off, but then the families hired a husband-wife duo from the U.S. who had a submersible specially designed for these sorts of retrievals. Within a few days they’d located the boys, down in the darkness, and dragged them back up into the light. I shuddered when I thought of how they must’ve looked after that long underwater, after being cradled to the surface with a claw. The people I interviewed talked about the closure that brought to the families, and I quoted various people silver lining it, but it was the sort of tragedy that was so random it felt cruel on a cosmic level. Like a deity reaching down from heaven to smudge out a few people with his thumb.

“We cannot presume what happened. Our best speculation is misadventure. It wasn’t a very big canoe,” RCMP officer Darryl Little told me.

“It was more of a swift water canoe than a lake canoe. There wasn’t much space below the gunnels and we figure the wind came up and that was it.”

During those weeks I kept running into people who knew the kids, and saw the impact plain on their heartbroken faces. One woman burst into tears while I was renewing my car insurance. I decided to interview the school district psychologist, Dr. Todd Kettner, to get his insights into the community’s grief process. We met at Lakeside Park and shot a video of him sitting on a park bench, calling out the provincial government and Premier Christy Clark. They had docked his pay during the teacher’s strike, right while he was in the midst of putting in overtime to coordinate a critical incident crisis management plan for the Slocan community. He was the only psychologist for the district, which according to him was chronically under-funded. For him it wasn’t about the dollars they took off his cheque, it was the overall neglect rural schools were receiving that really set him off. In an online open letter that went viral around the province he laid out some of the routine cases he was dealing with from day to day, underlining the ways the community was failing to support students with mental health issues.

“I was awakened Sunday morning by a phone call informing me that a student at one of the 21 schools I’m responsible for was on life support in ICU after an accidental drug overdose,” he wrote.

“Monday morning, while continuing to support the staff at the school where the hospitalized student learns, a dedicated and caring school administrator and I were informed that we were needed at another school to help the staff there prepare to gently inform their students that their classmates’ parent had been killed in a tragic accident.”

Kettner was eventually reimbursed for his pay cut, but didn’t see any change at an institutional level. At the end of the day he was still doing his job the best way he could in seemingly impossible circumstances. In the newsroom Tamara filled me in on the realities of SD8, and the issues were deeply systemic. The whole system was cash-starved because the undeclared income of the cannabis industry meant that, on paper, it was the poorest district in the province. The local high school was past capacity, there were multiple elementary schools that should have been demolished years ago, and sitting through board meetings meant hearing about financial snafus of the highest order.

“Those school board meetings, Will? Worst part of my job, easy. You wouldn’t believe how boring they are. All the ‘motion to accept this’ and ‘motion to accept that’. Makes me want to blow my brains out,” she said.

“The key is, you have to get to know the trustees, the superintendent. Once you have them as a connection, they can pretty much talk you through anything.”

“You think the strike will last much longer?”

“Shit, I don’t know. Those teachers are pissed, and they’re not going to back down.”

Around this time I came to an instinctive conclusion about the type of reporter I wanted to be: not aloof, or unfeeling, but the type that engages to an almost scary degree. If I was going to write a story, I wanted to understand it on a far deeper level than I needed for the paper, I wanted to be the guy in town that was the ultimate expert on that topic — right down to its human nuances.

The story commanding my most fervid attention was the trial of Andrew Stevenson, the bank robber that Cass had told me about. Calvin, Tamara and I spent a good half an hour scouring through Facebook trying to find a photo of him and his co-accused, Krista Kalmikoff, so we could have something to illustrate Greg’s stories about the court hearings. We were unsuccessful. The guy was being charged with seven robberies over the course of about six months, of both banks and pharmacies. The NPD had identified addiction as the driving force behind the crimes, and had been able to predict the exact day of his last robbery: April 25, 2014. In my free time I interrogated anyone who knew anything about what happened, picking up scraps of information here and there. A drunk woman at a party described seeing him come careening out of the bank’s parking lot on a bike, cutting in front of city hall and hurtling down towards the lake as cops sprinted after him. I wanted, so badly, to know what this guy looked like. Calvin sent me down to the court to get a shot of him walking in handcuffed—a goon shot—but then it turned out he was appearing by video link. Foiled!

As I got to know the NPD cops, attending one of their award ceremonies, I met a soft-spoken sergeant named Nate Holt. He had thickly muscled arms, a neatly trimmed blond beard and spiky hair that was nearly white. Not only was he holding an award for bravery, he was also one of the guys who was at the bridge that day, with Andrew Stevenson's stolen money raining down from the tree like confetti. I pictured the bank robber squirming on the rocks, trying to crawl away, while they descended on him like blue wraiths. The thing about Nate was you could feel the toll his work took on him, and you could see it in the way he carried himself. He was piggy-backing a lot of sadness. One suicidal dude came at him with a butcher knife and Nate didn’t even pull his gun. No, he got close enough to tackle him in a bear-hug, wrestle the knife out of his grip and save both of their lives. Sometimes I thought about those two men, rolling on the Baker Street sidewalk in that guy’s blood, while shocked residents looked on. I couldn’t believe that someone could have an experience like that and return to work the next day. But that’s exactly what he did.

Before Paisley moved into our new place, Muppet and I got a few days of lackadaisical meandering. I took her to Kaslo May Days with me, slaloming along the highway up Kootenay Lake in a state of giddy bliss, thinking yes I think I made the right decision while I gazed out at the water. I spotted a weird gargoyle sculpture on top of a house on Front Street, and wondered to myself what the deal was there. I spent a lot of time wandering through parks with my camera, approaching strangers and asking to take their photos. Cass would later jokingly call these spreads “All the people Will met at the park the other day”. Eventually I decided I had to see this bridge Andrew Stevenson jumped off, so I got on the highway out to Castlegar and went looking for it. We turned off the highway and followed a switch-back down to the Columbia River, just a few kilometres up from a massive hydroelectric dam. I parked at one end of the bridge and walked Muppet out across the dusty concrete to the middle so we could see the spot it happened. It was a clear, sunny afternoon, and I eventually identified the small cedar he’d attempted to jump into. Below was nothing but a rocky slope to the river, twenty feet further on. This was where it all ended for him, after evading the cops six times. Maybe it was the new pot I was smoking, or maybe it was something else, but I was feeling an electric need to understand this story. I’d been struggling for years on a novel that wasn’t coming along, partially because I was finding it difficult to invent new parts of the narrative, but here was a true fucking story that I could actually throw my weight into. I stood there for a long time, while cars rocketed by in the distance and wind hurtled through the canyon. The air smelled delicious.

I stood there drinking a Slurpee while Muppet panted happily.

The Kootenay Goon

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queen-archeron · 7 years

Text

Wildest Dreams // Part 2

Summary: Nesta has finally gotten the chance to get away from her small hometown of Prythian, and move to the big city of New York. She knows it won’t be easy to adjust to this new, independent life of hers, especially with an overprotective boyfriend constantly stressing her out. Cassian has lived in the city for a little less than a year, along with the rest of his Inner Circle of friends, and life couldn’t be better. When Nesta moves into the apartment next door though, many things change.

Tags: @highladyfxyre @fiery-feyre @justasimplereader @my-life-is-a-drama-book @eternally-reading @rhysand-and-rowan @the-bookish-soul @emdig2001 @reinakatarina @wolffrising @ifinallygavein @blxckbeak @watermelonwiggle17 @live-the-fangirl-life @disneyaddict27 @yourejustassaneasiam3 @rebelangel36 @joepesci-isfine @photofeesh @little-eidolon @escapingtheconstrictingboxes @highladyoferilea

(Let me know if you’d like to be tagged!)

Part 1

Words: 2,815

Cassian woke to his phone buzzing uncontrollably next to him, the faint sound filling the silent apartment. Groaning, he lifted his head and felt around for the phone under the pillows on the couch, his eyes barely open. When he found it, he saw Rhysand’s name on the screen and swiped to answer, leaning back to close his eyes again.

“Hello?” Cassian grumbled, his voice rough with sleep.

“Cass, are you still sleeping? It’s 12 o’clock,” Rhys chuckled, and Cassian furrowed his brows, pulling his phone away from his ear to check the time. Sure enough, it read 12:00, and his eyes widened in realization of how long he’d slept in.

“I don’t know what happened,” he said as he stood from the couch and headed towards the kitchen. “I was so exhausted when I got home last night that I fell asleep on the couch.”

He was answered with another chuckle, and Cassian opened the fridge to grab some milk, then opened the cupboard to grab cereal and a bowl.

“Do you still want to go to the gym today? Me and Az are heading out in ten minutes.”

Cassian glanced at the clock that hung above the TV in the living room and shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

He poured some cereal into the bowl, followed by milk, then walked over to a barstool that was placed on one side of the counter.

“I’ll text you when we’re there.” Rhysand replied, and Cassian ran a hand through his hair as they said goodbye and ended the call.

He ate his cereal in silence, browsing his phone for anything interesting and, as usual, found nothing. When he had finished eating, he placed everything in the sink and walked toward his bedroom down the hall to get dressed.

Cassian felt like he was entering a dark abyss, because all the blinds were closed and he could barely see in front of him. He tripped over a few pairs of shoes, and probably kicked half of his clothes across the room by the time he made it to the floor to ceiling windows, grabbing the string to pull the blinds up.

He sighed when he saw the cloudy sky, just like every other day this week. Of course, New York was always cold in November, but he always felt lazy when it was cloudy or rainy, making everyone stuck inside all day. Cassian hated being cooped up in his apartment during snow or thunder storms, especially since he had nothing to do.

Walking over to his drawers, he grabbed the first gym clothes he could find and quickly changed, just as his phone buzzed. Rhysand’s name crossed the screen along with a text to let him know they arrived.

He picked up his gym bag and headed through his apartment, taking his keys and walking out into the hallway. As he locked his door, he could faintly smell bacon coming from the new neighbor’s room, and his mouth watered. He decided that after he got home from the gym and showered, he would finally introduce himself to the mysterious person who apparently liked bacon. At least they would have something in common.

He entered the elevator and leaned against the back wall as it slowly descended fifteen stories. A ding sounded and the doors opened to reveal the lobby, with Rhys and Az waiting by the windows facing the busy street.

“Ready to go?” Rhys asked with a grin, both he and Azriel wide awake.

Cassian, however, wanted to sleep. Forever. He wasn’t normally so out of it, especially with his brothers, but lately he had just felt…lonely. Sure, there were millions of people in the city for him to meet, but he was getting sick of going out late to parties, and hooking up with girls he barely knew just for fun.

He wanted one girl. He wanted someone to be happy with other than the same friends he’d had for years now. At this point, he was starting to think it would never happen, that he should just give up hope.

“Cass…” Azriel started, looking concerned. He gave Rhys a quick look and then returned his gaze to Cassian.

“Oh, sorry I was spacing out. Let’s go,” Cassian muttered, trying his best to smile brightly at them. He knew they didn’t buy it, but he also knew they wouldn’t push it. They knew when the right time was to bring up certain things, and now wasn’t the time.

The gym was only two blocks away, which meant they didn’t need to walk far, thankfully. When they stepped outside, the cool winter air met them, and Cassian shivered, regretting not wearing a coat.

“How’s Feyre been,” Azriel asked, directed to Rhys who was puffing warm air into his palms.

“Amazing,” he grinned. “I know we’ve only been going out for a few weeks now, but…I think she’s the one.”

Azriel smiled and nudged his friend in the ribs playfully, while Cassian beamed.

“I’m happy that you’re happy, Rhys. You deserve it.” Cassian’s words were quiet compared to the loud street next to them. The sound of squeaking breaks filled the air, but Rhys nodded in understanding, a large grin on his face.

“I want you guys to meet her. Maybe this weekend?”

Azriel nodded right away, and Cassian chuckled. “I’ll be interested to see who’s been stealing you from us.”

Rhys rolled his eyes and laughed, promising that it would be worth it.

As they made their way towards the gym, Cassian sighed to himself, looking around as if somehow, he could find that missing person he was looking for. Just like every other time, he made no progress.

Nesta groaned as she stretched out on her bed, then reached down and pulled the sheets tighter around her, shielding her from the cold air. The smell of bacon filled the apartment, and she knew Thomas was awake already, as usual.

Last night, she had almost ended it. Every night they shared a bed, he would ask her if she was ready to have sex. Ready to give up a part of herself to him, to give him even more control over her than he already had. Every night, she said no, and even if he would yell and get frustrated, she didn’t care, because he was not the one to share that with, and never would be.

“Nesta!”

Thomas practically screamed, and she jumped out of bed, fixing her nightgown quickly and rushing through the large apartment into the kitchen.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, frantically looking around to find what caused the panic. Everything seemed to be fine. There was some reality show playing on the TV, and all the blinds were opened to reveal another cloudy day.

Thomas only shrugged, smirking a little, and turned back to the stove, flipping the bacon over in the pan. “You sleep too long is all.”

She glanced at the time and her eyes widened. 1:00. She had been awake much earlier, at around eight, but the moment she heard Thomas get up, she closed her eyes and pretended to sleep. She didn’t want to spend her whole week with him, especially in her new apartment. She must have fallen back asleep, determined to avoid him for the day. She wasn’t a child.

“I didn’t realize how late it was, sorry…”

“It’s fine, love. Just sit down and eat. I got a call from work and something popped up so I’m going to have to go back to Prythian in about thirty minutes.” He shoved some bacon into his mouth as he turned away from the stove, placing the pan on the counter.

Darn, she thought. What a tragedy.

“What as that?”

Suddenly, everything froze, and Nesta snapped her head up to look at him, realizing she had said the words out loud.

“I, uh…I said what a tragedy. It must be something bad if you have to go back so soon.” She tried to ignore the sick feeling she got whenever she was in situations like this…with him. Thomas only stared at her for a moment, and the only sound in the room was the sizzle of bacon and the ticking clock.

“I agree,” he murmured, keeping an eye on her as he tossed two pieces of bacon onto her plate.

For the next ten minutes, they were both silent, just picking at their food and ignoring each other. Thomas knew he had control, and always tried reminding her. She hated it, but if she ended things with him, he could ruin her family’s lives. His father was in charge of her father’s work, and even if she didn’t care so much about him, she did care about Elain and Feyre.

“Okay, I’m going to get packed. I’ll leave in ten minutes.” He announced, watching her pick at her food some more.

He stood from his chair and grabbed her hand, hard, staring at her with a raised brow. “Did you hear me?”

Nesta narrowed her eyes but nodded, even as she imagined how satisfying it would be to slap his face with a brick.

“Good.” He released her roughly and headed toward her room to grab his belongings.

Nesta let out a deep breath, watching the clock as if it would disappear the minute she looked away. Time seemed to be going by slowly, and she just sat at the barstool waiting. Waiting for him to come out and then leave.

Thomas always seemed to be getting calls from “work” asking him to get home quickly. She knew it wasn’t normal, but like everything he did, she didn’t question it. She wanted to stay as far from him as possible.

She stood from her chair and walked into the living room to grab a pair of leggings that was thrown on the couch, then an old sweatshirt.

Ten minutes finally went by, and he made his way out to the kitchen with his duffle bag hanging off his shoulder. “Alright, walk me out?”

Nesta groaned internally, but smiled and took his hand in hers, interlacing their fingers. She walked him out the door and down the silent hall, and when they reached the elevator, Thomas looked around warily, his face showing nothing but rage.

“Thomas-“

“I’m going to say this once, Nesta.” He started, his voice low as the elevator opened. He pulled her into the empty space and when the doors closed he grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to face him.

“If I find out that you’re hanging out with other guys, I will kill them.” She knew he was exaggerating, trying to make his threat seem as bad as possible. But something about his eyes told her this was more than a joke, and she gulped.

“Okay,” her voice was quiet as she spoke, and the elevator stopped on the bottom floor.

Thomas took her hand in his again, pulling her into the lobby and then out the door, onto the city street. The cold air made her shiver, but she tried to ignore it as she faced her boyfriend, giving him a soft smile.

“I’ll miss you,” he murmured, and she nodded.

“I’ll miss you, too.”

He leaned down and kissed her gently, holding her against him as she took in his warmth. He pulled away quickly, right as a black car pulled up to the front of the building.

“See you later,” was all he said as he got inside, slamming the door behind him. She didn’t stop to think about what later meant.

She watched the car slowly pull forward, into the traffic and didn’t wave.

The street wasn’t as busy as she thought it would be, probably because it was lunch time and no one wanted to be in the cold air for too long. Nesta just stood there for a moment, some weight lifting from her shoulders when the car turned the corner, out of sight.

Running her hand through her hair, she quickly turned around to walk back inside, only to bump into someone, nearly falling over until two hands grabbed her waist to steady her.

She pulled back, eyes widened and ready to snap at whoever it was, but she was cut short. His hazel eyes were scanning her body, as if looking for an injury, and when she felt his hands tighten slightly, she quickly removed herself from his grasp, narrowing her eyes.

“Sorry about that, I didn’t see you,” he murmured, still looking her over.

His voice sent a chill down her spine, but she only nodded sharply. “It’s fine. No worries.”

She gave him one last glance before heading inside, feeling his stare as she made her way through the lobby and reached the elevator just as it was about to close. She pressed the fifteenth floor button and leaned back against the wall, enjoying some peace and quiet at last…

Until the guy she ran into walked into the elevator and the doors closed behind him.

Beautiful. That was the only word that came into Cassian’s mind as he made his way to the other side of the elevator, aware that she wasn’t in the mood to be bothered. She had pressed the fifteenth floor, and he was sure he had never seen her before. Maybe she was visiting a friend.

If that was true, he hoped she visited more often.

He was glad he had chosen to shower off before he left the gym, or else the smell of sweat would be taking up the air, possibly killing her.

Silence filled the empty space around them, and he tried not to stare at her too much. ‘Tried’ being the key word. Her eyes were pinned to the floor, and she looked irritated, so he quickly cleared his throat, filling the silence.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you or any-“

“I said it was fine.”

Cassian rose a brow at the attitude, but didn’t push it any further. Instead, he leaned his head back against the wall, tapping his foot on the ground as the elevator rose up.

“Stop that please,” she muttered, glaring at him out of the corner of her eye. It took him a minute to realize she meant his foot tapping.

“Oh, uh, sorry.”

She just shook her head, watching the numbers as they got higher.

Cassian thought he would go crazy if he didn’t learn something about her, this new goddess that was going to his floor. The silence was killing him, and she avoided his eye contact every time she lifted her head to look around.

“My name is Cassian,” he announced, giving her a smirk, which she rolled her eyes at.

Stubborn, he thought.

“And you are?” He continued, still giving her a smirk because he now knew it bothered her.

She finally met his eyes as she said, “Nesta.”

Nesta. He nodded and glanced up to see the number change from fourteen to fifteen, after what felt like years.

As the doors opened, Nesta slid into the hallway without so much as a goodbye, heading the same way he did.

She turned the first corner and began walking slower, and he knew she could hear his footsteps from behind. The floor was quiet, save for the distant sound of traffic outside. She slowed down at the door next to his, and he realized that Rhys was right about his neighbor. She was a supermodel, or at least could be one.

“Are you following me?” She suddenly snapped, leaning back against her door. She looked at him with narrowed eyes, and stood her ground as he walked closer to her.

“This is my apartment,” he grinned, pointing to his own door next to hers. “Are you the new neighbor, then?”

She glared at him again and shifted uncomfortably, turning to grab the door handle. “I guess so,” she mumbled, taking her keys out of her sweatshirt pocket and shoving them into the key hole, failing to get it unlocked.

Cassian watched her with an amused expression and rose a brow. “Need some-“

“No. I got it.” She said, clearly frustrated, but he found it all quite entertaining.

She took the key out and put it in upside down this time, as if that might work somehow, and Cassian immediately knew this was her first time in the city.

He stepped forward, holding out his hand with an open palm, and smiled in satisfaction when she handed the key to him. In less than three seconds, he had the door unlocked, swinging it open slightly as he handed the key back to her.

“You’re welcome, Nesta.” He teased, and she pursed her lips as she walked inside, peaking at him from the gap in the door.

“Goodbye.”

Cassian entered his own apartment, and as soon as he shut the door, he smiled to himself like a flustered middle schooler, but he didn’t care one bit.

#queen-archeron fic #wildest dreams #nessian #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron

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searchingff-blog · 6 years

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Chapter 6: Slipping

“You’re going to stop trying to get me pregnant too.” Cassi giggled as soft kisses were being placed on her plump behind.

It was early in the morning and the couple just finished making love. Well for her it was more like sex, but for Saint he was connecting with her physically and mentally. She had a way with her body that no other female he came in contact with had. To make matters worse Cassi knew what she was doing. When it was just the two of them she made him feel godly, and like what he had between his legs was magic, black magic that sent secret messages to her brain. It was all apart of the game she played, and he had no idea about it.

“I can’t help it. The pussy be soooo gewd a nigga be forgetting I’m hitting it raw.�� He chuckled, taking an open palm to her ass.

“When I put that ass on child support you better be singing the same tune.” She laughed, letting him roll her over on her back and sliding between her legs.

“You trying to get me pregnant now and I don’t have a ring on this finger.” She raised her hand, and moved her ring finger back and forth. “How I know it’s real?”

“I don’t take care of you? I don’t treat you like a queen?” His face was more serious than his voice.

Cassi laid there quiet.

“Aight then. Better stop playing with me girl.” Her silence was the only answer he needed. They both knew what he did for her, and the pedestal she sat comfortably on. Saint leaned down, and pecked her lips. “I’m hungry.”

“You want your favorite?” She caressed his face.

“You already know I do.”

They connected lips once more, and then he rolled on his side of the bed.

Cassi slid off the bed, and grabbed her robe out of the closet. She walked out the room, and headed down the hall to the kitchen to whip up loaded french toast, eggs, and hot sausage.

TEN MINUTES LATER

The aroma from the kitchen was traveling into the room, and only made Saint hungrier. He knew that the food had to be nearly finished by now, but was going to stay in bed until she called him. It was still early, and nothing entertaining was on TV besides reruns that he didn’t feel like watching, so the TV ended up on some random movie. His undivided attention was on the movie until the bed started vibrating. At first he thought it was his phone, but when he found the rose gold IPhone he saw that it wasn’t his.

Zeus 😄: Good morning beautiful

Zeus 😄: You miss me?

“What the fuck?” He whispered to himself.

Saint could feel his blood boiling. He knew the two of them were friends, but to text her that early in the morning as if Cassi was his girl infuriated him. The angel on his shoulder was telling him to calm down, but he couldn’t. He jumped out of bed, and glided down the hall.

“Good morning beautiful, you miss me?” His face emotionless.

“It hasn’t been that long.” She chuckled, facing the opposite direction.

“Nah, I ain’t the one missing you. It’s this nigga Zeus texting sweet shit in the fucking morning.”

The moment his name collided with her eardrum she was cursing herself out in her head. How could she be stupid enough to leave her phone in the bed? She needed to gain her composure quick.

“First calm down, and second I’m sure he meant to send that to someone else.” She turned the stove off and faced him.

“Fuck all that shit he know who he texting. Open your phone, and let me see the thread.” He offered the phone towards her.

“I’m not doing that. You don’t trust me? Really Saint?” Playing the victim was her go to plan, because what was inside that thread he wasn’t going to be able to handle.

“Open the damn phone and i’ll tell you.” He stared her down.

Most of the time it was hard for him to put his foot down with her, but he knew how Zeus operated from what Azure went through.

“You can tell me now because i’m not doing that shit.”

Cassi not opening her phone was making him more suspicious.

“What the fuck you got to hide? Something obviously with this gay ass smiley emoji next to his name. You got me fucked up Cassi.” He placed the phone down on the counter.

Saint wanted to trust her, but something wasn’t sitting right with him. If it was nothing he had no problem apologizing once she proved to him that it wasn’t nothing. Instead she let his suspicions heighten.

“The food is done asshole.” She rolled her eyes, turning back around to make plates.

“I lost my appetite. Go feed it to the nigga that misses your ass.” He made his way back to the to the room.

“Are you serious right now?”

Her response was the bedroom door being slammed. Cassie dropped the spoonful of eggs and picked up her phone.

Cass 👅: Why the fuck would you text me that. Saint seen that shit, and now he’s pissed. Thanks a lot asshole.

After she sent that text she erased the thread, and blocked his number. There was too much evidence in those messages. The bedroom door opened back up, and Saint came around the corner fully dressed.

“Where you going?” She questioned, looking him over.

“To go get something to eat. I need some fresh air.” He grabbed his keys off the coffee table.

“Bye.” She said carefree. Arguing with him this early in the morning wasn’t on her agenda

As much as he wanted what she cooked he needed to teach her a lesson. Hopefully she was going to get it.

——————————–

It was around two in the afternoon when Hazel pulled up to Razor Cutz, the barbershop Zeus worked at, with food and a couple things she needed to get off her chest. Zeus was like her brother, so when she needed somebody to talk to about Roman she went to him for advice. He was an unbiased and neutral ear that would tell her if she was wrong in the situation. However, Azure was her blood sister and what happened to her the other night at the club was unacceptable. Things, women, baby mommas, hoes needed to be put in place and he was the one who needed to do it.

“Hey yall.” She waved and smiled at the other barbers in the shop. “Not you tho. We got some shit that needs to be handled and addressed.” She pointed at Zeus.

“What this clown do now?” One of the barbers joked.

“Mane, shut ya ass up.” Zeus laughed, motioning for her to come to the back with him.

The two walked to the back of the barbershop, and he closed the door behind them. He knew what she was coming to chew him out about, and even though he handled it already he was going to take it like a man.

“Curry goat, rice and peas?” He took the bag of food.

“Yeah, my momma still be looking out for you.” She rolled her eyes.

“She a saint forreal.” He opened the container, and let the aroma fill his nostrils up.

After everything that had happened between Zeus and Azure, her mom still made sure he was taken care of. They’d been together so long he had become apart of the family.

“You know who’s not a saint, Azure. You need to get your baby mother in check because shit like that can’t happen again. It won’t happen again.” Her voice was stern, and the emotion her face portrayed was severe.

“You’re right, and that’s why I took care of it already. AZ won’t have to worry about her anymore.” He said reassuringly.

“Good, because come time for my dinner I don’t need any drama to pour out onto the table.”

“What’s this big dinner for again?” He asked before stuffing his face.

“It’s a surprise.”

In reality the dinner was put in place to be the night they revealed that they were pregnant. Hazel wanted to cancel it after the miscarriage, but Roman suggested they still did it to have a good time. It took a minute for her to agree, but she finally did. Now they were using the dinner as the time to reveal the new house. She prayed and hoped that they were on good terms that day. Things had been chaotic in their household, and she wasn’t sure how they were going to recover after this. Marriages weren’t easy and they took some fighting to stay afloat, but this seemed like it was either going to make or break them.

“Also, Azure will be there and she already said she doesn’t want no parts of you, so don’t go thinking you’re going to weasel your way back in, because it ain’t happening. Your baby mom’s fucked that up for you.” That was one of the reasons why she invited the both of them, and her plan had already failed.

“I wasn’t going to mess with her regardless. I’m just going to apologize, and keep it pushing.” He lied, knowing he planned on seeing if she’d do dinner or a movie with him.

“Nope, I’ll let her know because you stay doing other shit.” She chuckled, reaching in her black leather MK bag for her phone.

A couple weeks back Hazel started to get these weird text messages regarding her husband. The first time she didn’t pay it any mind, because she just thought somebody was playing on her phone. It didn’t become a pressing matter for her until they started sending pictures of him. She couldn’t wrap her mind around the riddle, or figure out the encoded message behind it.

“Look at this.” She pulled up a message, and handed him the phone.

Unknown Number: Is your husband as ride or die as you think? You might want to question him about some of the company he keeps.

Zeus furrowed his brows at the message. He had no idea what the person could have been talking about.

“What you think they talkin about?”

“That he’s cheating. What else could it be?”

Zeus laughed, and shook his head. “Women always go straight for cheating. Trust me, that man loves you and he aint fucking no other bitch.”

“I don’t know, we been at odds for a minute now.”

“About what?” He looked at her with confusion. They seemed to have the perfect relationship.

“Family stuff.” She thought about bringing him in on the miscarriage information, but didn’t want to deal with those emotions again. Everything about the situation she was still healing from, and each time she brought it up she broke down.

“Ohhh, mane you talkin like it’s deep shit that y'all can’t get passed. You two will work it out.”

Zeus always congratulated Roman on being able to stick with one woman, and be faithful to her. He wanted that for himself, but the one he wanted didn’t want anything to do with him. When he was with Azure he had it good. She was everything that he ever wanted in a women, but he let temptation shatter it, and didn’t realize it until after jail. Jail turned him into a new man, and he wasn’t going to give up on her just yet. He had a couple things up his sleeve.

“I hope you’re right, but you good?” She asked, standing up. Hazel had some work errands to run.

“Yeah, go handle your business sis.” He assured her she was good to go.

“Alright, stay outta trouble.” She walked by him, and patted his shoulder.

“Ya know I’m a feign for it.” He laughed, finishing off the rest of the food.

———————————

Cassi’s day had been horrible, and it was all because a man got comfortable. Zeus was a good lay, but it seemed like he let that cloud his judgement this morning. She hadn’t been able to reach Saint all day, and that was something she wasn’t used to. Usually he would throw a fit, and come home, or call her within thirty minutes. This wasn’t like him, and it made her feel uneasy. All she wanted to do was tear a hole into the side of Zeus’ face with her words of fury.

She drove into the city just for him. Knowing him he was the last person in the shop, so interrupting his business wasn’t going to be a factor. When she pulled up she sat out front to make sure nobody else was inside. Everything looked good, so she exited the car with anger plastered on her face.

“Nigga are you dumb, or just fucking stupid?” She walked into the shop with no positive introduction.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He looked at her, taken back by her approach.

“You know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about. Why text me some shit like that knowing damn well I have a man? You’re a pro at cheating and being a fucking side nigga so you should know the damn rules.” She wasn’t aware of how furious she actually was.

“Hold the fuck up. Don’t bring your thot ass up in here talking crazy at me, because your dumb ass was sloppy with your shit.” He was irritated.

“Thot? Who the fu-”

“You bitch, fuck else I’m talking to and go ahead and say some more reckless shit so I can hurt your feelings some more.” He stared down at her with the intent of doing so already. “You can play this shit with that scrub, but dont bring your ass in here talking to me out the side of ya neck like I won’t violate.”

“Fuck you Zeus.” She was surprised by what he was saying.

“Your hoe ass already did that. How you fix your lips to talk about anybody being a pro cheater? Your whole relationship is a fucking cheat. That nigga was the first to wife you up instead of passing you along to the next, and you too dumb to realize it, so niggas like me come and catch a nut because the pussy is decent, and the head is good. You fucked around, and let him see the message that’s on your ass. You forget the shit I did for your ass?” He paused to stare her down to let the question sink in.

“Yeah…” He voice was as tiny as a mouse.

“Yeah! I killed for your ass, and fucked up my life and didn’t snitch on you. So if I want to text you, call you, hell even pull up and tell you to bring ya ass outside I can do that. Because wasn’t nobody else gonna handle that nigga after he put you in the hospital, and almost killed ya ass.”

Cassi was the reason Juan was dead. She was dating him, and sleeping with Zeus at the same time. When she ended up in the hospital, face rearranged, in a coma, somebody had to do something and he stepped up to the plate. When she finally woke up she set him up, and instead of meeting her he met the end of Zeus’ barrel. That wasn’t his main chick, but he had a soft spot for her. There were multiple times he regretted doing what he did, but right now was the icing on the cake and it showed him that she didn’t appreciate what he did for her.

“Take ya ass the fuck home.” He waved her off, and went back to cleaning up the shop.

Cassi was shocked at the verbal abuse she received. Her body was numb and she couldnt move until he told her so. On her way out the door tears streamed down her face. She hadn’t felt this low in a long time, and didn’t think she could ever feel this way again. Her hand was shaking as she tried to place the key in the ignition. Finally, she started the car and sped off almost hitting a car coming from behind her.

The car wasn’t the only thing she missed. The man in all black who heard their entire conversation was missed as well. He’d been following her for some days now.

“Yeah, Lena I think you might have to pick up his old girl.”

#dave east #dave east ff #dave east fanfic #chris brown #chris brown ff #chris brown fanfic #blac chyna #aaliyahjay #ff #fanfic #urban ff #urban fanfic #chapter6

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