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klove0511 · 5 years

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Milestones and Misunderstandings

SPN Rare Ship CC: Round 24 | @klove0511 vs. @andromytta, @rareshipcreationschallenge

Prompt: Clone-a-Willie kit

Ship: Sam/Cass

Rating: T

Word Count: 2711

Tags/Warnings: mildly homophobic!Mary, protective!Dean, oblivious!Dean, Sam has self-worth issues, fluff, Season 14

Summary: There is something different about Sam and Cass. The lingering stares, the intimate touches. The careful whispers and secret smiles. Dean knew it. He was going to get to the bottom of it, one way or another.

AO3 Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17606804

Shoutouts to my awesome betas bananamilkunnie (aka @sweetteamultifandom) and @revwinchester! Thank you both for checking this over for me.

Milestones and Misunderstandings

It started innocently. Dean was observant, when he wanted to be, and even he was hard-pressed to ignore how much closer Sam and Cass seemed these days. More than once he’d caught Cass slipping food to Sam in the library or taking lore books from him and ushering him to bed. It stung, a little, that Cass had taken on Dean’s role as big brother in his absence, but Dean couldn’t be too upset. Someone had to watch out for Sam, and Dean had asked Cass to do it, once upon a time. Still, the soft looks between them spoke of something more. Dean considered it his big brother duty to get to the bottom of it and commence teasing as necessary.

Sam was, predictably, in the library with a pile of books in front of him.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean said, pulling out a chair across from his brother.

Sam blinked at him. “Hey.” He frowned. “What’s going on?”

Dean did his best to sound casual. No need to scare Sammy off. “Nothing. I’ve, uh, just noticed you and Cass have been spending a lot of time together lately.”

“I suppose. He’s been staying close to the bunker for Jack. Well, that and there isn’t any angel business keeping him away for once. We’ve been taking advantage of the time.” Sam frowned. “It’s not too obvious, right? I know everyone from Apocalypse World has accepted Cass, but still. After everything angels have done to them I don’t know how they’d feel if they knew.”

Dean felt rather suddenly like he was all left feet and the conversation had somehow run away from him. “If they knew what? That you and Cass are friends? I think they know, Sam.”

Sam glowered, clearly communicating that he thought Dean was being an idiot on purpose. “No. Obviously I mean,” he waved vaguely, “the extratime we’ve been spending together.”

“What the hell are you—oh.” Suddenly it clicked. “You mean you and Cass are—” Dean also made a vague gesture that he hoped Sam could interpret. Teasing Sam over a crush was one thing, but he was completely unprepared for the possibility that Sam and Cass were already an item, and he couldn’t quite find the words he needed to articulate that.

“Well, yeah. Why do you look surprised? It’s not exactly news.” Sam was frowning hard enough that his worry line had appeared between his eyes.

Dean was struggling to find his footing here. Sam thought he knew. He implied that it wasn’t a new thing. “I don’t—How long?” He hoped that hadn’t sounded too much like an accusation.

“Years.”

“Years?” he choked.

“Yeah. It started after you left that last time. After—after Kevin.”

He remembered that particular black spot in their history too well. Cass had gone back to the bunker with Sam to finish healing the damage from the Trials. He’d thought that was all there was to it. “You’ve been hiding this for five years?

Sam’s face hardened instantly. “I wasn’t hiding anything, Dean. I thought you knew.”

“How the hell was I supposed to know? You never said anything. And you two sure don’t act like a couple. I mean you barely even touch each other.” He was flailing around at this point, but he didn’t care. He’d thought things were better than this between them. It should not have taken him five years to figure out that his little brother was in a serious relationship with his best friend.

“Just because not everyone is into PDA like y—”

“No, Sam. I’m not talking about making out in the halls or whatever, though that would have clued me in real fast. I mean touch—casual touch. Pats on the back or, or holding hands or something.” Dean could hear the frustration in his own voice and grimaced internally. This was not how this was supposed to go, but he had a nagging feeling that something was off about this relationship. He needed to get to the bottom of it.

Sam sighed. “It doesn’t matter what it looks like to you, Dean. We touch plenty when no one is watching. Even if we didn’t, I wouldn’t care. I mean—he’s an angel. After everything I’ve— The fact that he even gives me the time of day feels like a miracle.”

There it was. All Dean could hear was that Sam thought he wasn’t good enough, wasn��t worth Castiel’s time. It didn’t matter at all that he knew Sam had struggled with his self-worth over the years, that Dean himself had contributed to those issues as much as anyone. If Cass wasn’t making Sam happy then they needed to have a chat. Dean felt the fury brewing as he stormed out of the library. Time to have a conversation with Cass.

Dean ultimately found Cass in the storeroom, doing who knew what with the spell ingredients. “We need to talk,” he growled.

Cass looked up. “Sam said you were upset. What happened?”

“You’re sleeping with my brother!” he accused, finger pointed menacingly as he moved into Cass’s personal space.

Cass tilted his head. “I don’t understand. You know I don’t sl—”

“Sex, Cass. You’re having sex with Sam.”

Castiel straightened and took on a look that was deadly serious. “This bothers you. Why?”

“He’s my brother!”

Cass narrowed his eyes. “And?” When Dean didn’t have words to further clarify the issue with Cass’s eyes blazing at him, he continued. “He is a grown man. I was unaware we needed your permission.”

This conversation was also rapidly spinning out of his control. “It’s not about permission. It’s—Sam has a history with relationships.”

Castiel nodded. “You are referring to Jessica.”

Dean froze at how casually Cass dropped her name. Sam didn’t talk about her, ever. Except he very obviously had with his angel.

Cass continued, “I like to think I am doing rather well. I have come back to life nearly as many times as you.”

Dean frowned. That wasn’t the issue. Or rather, it was only part of the issue. “He thought I already knew. About the two of you. Despite the fact that you act nothing like a couple. And Sam apparently thinks it’s a fucking miracle you want to even talk to him. What the hell kind of relationship do you have?”

Cass’s expression darkened. “One in which I respect Sam’s boundaries. As for his opinion of himself, you think I don’t know? That I am not acutely aware of how little I deserve his affection after everything angels—after everything I have done to him?” He shrugged helplessly. “I cannot convince him.”

That was a surprise. He hadn’t expected Castiel to understand, to want to fix it as much as he did. But if he knew, if he wanted to change things—yeah, Dean could work with this. He remembered what Sam had said about the beginnings of their relationship and did some mental math. “So, tell me, what have you got planned for your anniversary?”

Cass’s confused head tilt told him everything he needed to know.

Hours later, Sam and Cass were alone in their room, snuggled on the bed with a Netflix documentary droning in the background. Sam played with the label on his beer bottle while Cass gently carded his fingers through Sam’s hair.

“I just don’t understand why he’s so upset about this,” Sam said. He looked up at Cass. “I really thought he knew.”

“I know. I believed Dean was more concerned about why you did not tell him of our relationship.” Cass let his voice drop even deeper.

Sam sighed heavily. “I didn’t tell him because I was sure he’d figured it out! That’s all!”

Cass’s pace never wavered. No matter how upset Sam became, he maintained his slow, methodical petting, knowing it would help calm Sam. “I believe you. You know how Dean worries. He has not forgotten what I did to your wall.”

Sam stiffened, then pulled himself out of Castiel’s reach. Cass felt his stomach drop in fear. It was a most unpleasant sensation. “Cass, that was years ago. Ancient history.”

Cass spoke softly. “I nearly killed you.” He wouldn’t hide from this. They had never discussed it, not really, and it was past time to do so.

“You saved me.” Sam shook his head. “You—you took on my memories to save my life.”

Cass kept his gaze neutral. “I was simply fixing my greatest mistake. I do not deserve your admiration or gratitude for that. I should never have hurt you, Sam.”

Sam stared at him. The frankness in his gaze was starting to make Castiel uncomfortable, and he thought he understood a little of what Dean had been telling him for years. Finally, he spoke. “You never forgave yourself for that.” His tone was full of wonder and understanding. “Does Dean know?”

Cass nodded. “We discussed many things today. He also enlightened me on the importance of celebrating the beginning of a relationship.”

Sam squinted while he tried to parse that into plain English. “What? The beg—Oh. You mean anniversaries?”

“Apparently they are most important in increments of five.” Cass reached out to pull Sam back into his embrace. Sam went easily and settled against Cass’s chest. “I’m surprised you never mentioned it.”

Sam shrugged. “Dates like that—birthdays, anniversaries—most of them carry bad memories for me. Besides, there’s always been so much going on that it didn’t seem that important, not like other things.”

Cass let his curiosity into his tone. “Other things?”

“You know. All the things we do when we’re actually together. Like this.”

“And intercourse.”

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, that too.” He twisted so he could catch Castiel’s lips.

Cass growled and pulled him tighter. Discussing their anniversary could wait.

Dean was drinking whiskey in the kitchen when Mary got home. He didn’t say anything, just raised his glass in acknowledgement.

“Hey. How are you?”

He assumed he looked like crap. Or maybe she just assumed the worst since he was drinking alone. “Fine. Just found out Sam is dating.”

Mary’s eyes widened. “Does he sleep at all? I didn’t think he’d have the time to find someone.”

Dean laughed brightly. It felt good after fighting with Sam all day. “Honestly? No, I don’t think he sleeps. But it’s Cass, so it’s not like he had to find time to go out to bars.”

Mary sank into the seat opposite Dean. “Sam is dating Cass?”

“You didn’t know either. That—actually does make me feel better.” He took a big swallow of his whiskey and winced at the burn. He lifted the bottle to refill his glass and offered it to her.

She waved it off. “I didn’t know Sam was like that.” Her voice was small.

He was a little drunk, so he wasn’t quite following her thread of the conversation. “Yeah, apparently they have been together for five years. Anniversary is tomorrow. I’m helping Cass plan something, but I have no idea what to get them as a gift.”

“It doesn’t bother you?” she asked.

“Sammy and Cass? Nah. I mean, I’m still kind of pissed that they never freaking said anything for five years, but that’s about it. Sam could do way worse. Has. Dude seriously has a thing for monsters though.”

“Do I want to know?” she said.

He shook his head and took a drink. “You really don’t. I mean, I liked Madison too. We didn’t find out she was a werewolf until later. But Ruby. That one was—” He rolled his eyes. “Anyway. Why, does it bother you?” There wasn’t any accusation in his tone, but his senses were starting to wake up. Like he might have to defend Sam.

She gave him a tight smile. “Things are so different these days. I forget sometimes. But he’s my son, and I will always love him. You’re right, he could do much worse than Castiel.”

Dean hesitated, weighing her words, then nodded. “Help me think of a gift for them?” He grinned at her, and she smiled warmly back.

Sam entered the dark kitchen and was startled when he realized it was occupied. Castiel was waiting by the table, trench coat conspicuously missing. On the table were some of the plain white candles they kept for spells, arranged in a cluster and lit. The lights were off, leaving the room lit by a soft glow. Something that smelled heavenly was served on the table. Sam knew what this looked like, but he couldn’t quite believe it.

“Cass, what is this?” His voice was softer than he expected.

Castiel smiled broadly. “Happy anniversary, Sam.”

“You cooked?” Sam asked.

“Dean cooked. He planned all of this. I merely agreed to let him do it.” Cass tugged on one of Sam’s hands, pulling him closer. “I thought it was time you had some good memories associated with our anniversary.”

“Thank you.” Sam smiled and brushed his lips against Cass’s.

Dinner was amazing, which wasn’t all that surprising since Dean had cooked it. What was more surprising was that Sam realized this was the first proper date they’d had in the whole five years they’d been together. “This was really nice, Cass,” he said.

Cass grinned. “Yes, it was. Dean also informed me that we have the entire bunker to ourselves for the night, and that after dinner I should take you in the library.”

Sam nearly choked on his bite of cheesecake at Castiel’s phrasing, though he was pretty sure the angel hadn’t meant it that way. “The whole bunker? Where is everyone?”

“Hunting, mostly, I believe. Dean and Mary have acquired motel rooms for the night. Jack is with them. And Dean has instructed everyone to check in with them instead of you until tomorrow.”

Just then, Sam’s phone buzzed in his pocket. His eyes widened as he scrambled for his phone. It had been silent all evening and he hadn’t even noticed. This was why he’d never made a big deal out of going on dates or celebrating anniversaries. He could barely handle turning his brain off long enough to get laid. Longer than that and someone was liable to get hurt. He pulled his cell out as he felt Castiel’s hands cover his.

“Everyone is safe, Sam. Dean is taking care of your hunters. You have the night off. Please, can we enjoy it?”

Sam took a deep breath. “Yeah. We can. But I did get a message. Can I?” The earnestness and love he saw in Cass’s eyes were almost painful. He didn’t deserve it.

Cass nodded agreement, and he checked his phone. One message from Dean, confirming everyone had made their check-ins. Everything was fine. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

After a moment, Cass took his hand and led him toward the library. Sam was about to say something, when he spotted a package sitting on one of the tables. He automatically reached for the note laying on top of it. He was expecting it to be from Dean, given the lengths to which his brother had apparently gone to give them a nice anniversary. Sure enough, Dean’s neat handwriting fill the sheet.

Sorry I was such a jerk earlier. It’s not everyday my little brother celebrates a milestone like this, especially with the lives we lead. I know things have been pretty rough the last couple years, and Mom helped me realize you’ve probably spent more time apart than you have together. Knowing our luck, that’s probably going to continue. Hopefully this makes future separations easier. –Dean

“Wow. This looks weirdly sincere,” Sam said, turning to hand the note to Cass.

Castiel hummed and wrapped Sam in a hug. “I believe Dean mentioned something about taking you in the library. Can it be time for that now?”

Sam chuckled and opened the gift, determined to tease Cass just a little longer. When he finally got a good look at the package, he froze.

Cass piped up from over his shoulder. “I do not understand. What is a Clone-a-Willy kit?”

Sam privately thought he was going to kill Dean. Then again, it had been an amazing night so far. Maybe he would let Dean off the hook, just this once.

#spnrareshipcc #spn #fic #sastiel #sam/cas

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ladylilithprime · 6 years

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The Essence of Outsiderness

SPN Rare Ship CC: Round 22 | @ladylilithprime vs. @deadly-kitten-kay

Prompt: The Wolf Man

Ship: CaSaMichael

Word Count: 2276

Tags/Warnings: werewolf!Castiel, witch!Sam, misunderstandings, Michael is kind of a dick, but he doesn't mean to be

Summary: Michael Gottschild considered himself to be a rational man. Everything fantastical had a logical, rational explanation. He wasn't counting on some of those explanations being quite so fantastical, though....

AO3 Link: Read Here

#spnrareshipcc #casamichael #supernatural fic #sam winchester #archangel michael #castiel #the wolf man

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draftingtides · 6 years

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It Ain’t Freddy Krueger

SPN Rare Ship CC: Round 22 | otrera-kicks-ass vs. @truthfulnomad

Prompt: Freddy Krueger

Ship: Sam/Mick (Sammick)

Word Count: 2272

Summary: Sam and Dean take Mick on a case. It has an unexpected outcome.

Notes: Thanks to the mods of @rareshipcreationschallenge for allowing me an extension!

AO3

There was exactly one thing Sam disliked about the Impala, and it was the fact that it had lap belts instead of regular seatbelts. Every single time Mick rode in the car with them on the way to the bunker or the Men of Letters' base, the lap belt let him lean forward until his chin was practically on Sam's shoulder as they listened to a podcast or Mick read lore books over Sam's shoulder. Mick's breath tickled the edge of Sam's collar and his hair, leaving goosebumps and a tingly sensation in its wake.

It was very distracting.

"So, uh," Sam stuttered, trying to keep his mind off how close Mick was, "this looks like a baku."

"The hell is that?" said Dean.

"It's a Japanese chimera-type creature. It kills people in their dreams," said Mick.

"Like Freddy Krueger?"

"Not quite," said Sam. "It doesn't kill people in their dreams, it kills people by stealing their dreams. Apparently, it's pretty common in Japan for children to ask a baku to take away their nightmares, but if you summon it too many times, it starts taking all of your dreams. And without dreams, people can't get a deep enough sleep, which leads to sleep deprivation and eventually death.”

"But none of the vics in the article died from sleep deprivation. They all killed themselves."

"Baku can steal metaphorical dreams, too," said Mick. "And without dreams... there isn't much to live for."

Dean scoffed, like he usually did after Mick spoke. "Yeah? What're your dreams, Harry Potter?"

Sam couldn't see him, but he could imagine Mick's lips tightening as he bit back a rude response.

"They're similar to most people's, I would imagine. To be happy."

"Real textbook answer," Dean remarked.

"Dean," Sam said quietly.

"Yeah, yeah." He pressed harder on the gas. "We're almost there. Say something if you see a motel."

Sam frowned. "Hey, I know cash is kinda,low right now, but are you sure you want to stay in a motel? With, ah..." He tilted his head subtly in Mick's direction.

"Hell no, Sam, we are not changing our whole lifestyle for the Queen of England over here. He'll just have to deal with it. See how real hunters live."

"I'll manage, Sam," said Mick. "It can't be too bad."

Sam chewed on his lower lip and refrained from saying anything else.

Dean pulled into the parking lot and got out of the car to book rooms. Sam got out to stretch and leaned against the car to wait for Dean. He was back in a few minutes and tossed Sam a key.

“You're in room twelve.”

“You got us separate rooms?”

“You're sharing with him,” Dean jerked his thumb at Mick. “I'm getting some company after this is over, and I'm not gonna let either of you complain about it.”

Sam rolled his eyes.

“Hey, I deserve it for putting up with him.”

Sam tapped on the window of the Impala. Mick looked up. Sam gestured for him to get out.

“I’m gonna be in room fourteen. I’m thinking we get some takeout, do a little research on this Freddy Krueger thing, then go to sleep and interview the vics’ families tomorrow?”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Sam said as Mick got out of the car.

They went their separate ways to their respective rooms.

“Okay, I know this isn’t exactly what you’re used to,” Sam told Mick, “so don’t take off your shoes, don’t sleep on the covers - actually, maybe just don’t touch the covers at all - and, uh, if you see any weird stains don’t think about where they came from.”

“Right,” said Mick, looking a little queasy.

The room was small, like most motel rooms. One of the beds was so close to the door that they could barely get into the room. There was a small, old, staticky television on a table directly across from the other bed. The carpet was a hideous electric green.

Sam took the duvets off both of the beds and put them on the floor in the corner, then dropped his stuff on the bed closest to the door. Mick did the same with the bed by the television and began to unpack. All the clothes Mick was taking out of his duffel bag were suits.

“Hey, did you bring any casual clothes?” Sam asked.

Mick raised his eyebrows. “This is casual.”

Sam bit back a laugh. “You ever try to fight in a suit?”

Mick shook his head.

“It’s not exactly easy. It’s fine, we can pick you up a few outfits or something tonight. Come on.”

They went over to Dean’s room and Sam knocked on the door. Dean opened it.

“Hey, can I borrow the keys to the Impala? Mick needs some clothes.”

“What?”

“He only brought suits.”

Dean snorted. “Smooth. No way am I letting you drive my baby if I have a choice, though. I’ll drive and we can get some food on the way back.”

They all got back in the car. Dean turned the key in the ignition and pulled out of the motel parking lot.

“Either of you know if there’s a Goodwill nearby?”

“Dean, don’t make him get clothes from a thrift shop. He’s already had enough culture shock.”

“No way in hell are gonna go to, like, J. Crew or LOFT or somewhere to spend a million dollars on hunting clothes,” Dean growled.

“We don’t have to go somewhere high-end, just, like - I don’t know, Target.”

Dean rolled his eyes like going to Target was the worst store imaginable. “Fine.”

When they arrived at Target, Dean stomped through the store to the men’s section with Sam and Mick hurrying to keep up. Dean grabbed a bunch of flannels and some t-shirts off the racks and shoved the bundle at Mick. “Try these on, see if any of them fit.”

Mick took the clothes. “Where are the fitting rooms?”

Dean jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Back of the store.”

Sam and Dean hung around the outside of the dressing rooms while they waited for Mick to try on the shirts. Dean tapped his foot impatiently and checked his watch every five seconds.

“Well?”

Sam turned around. Mick was standing behind him with his arms spread out, like have at it, then. His shirt was buffalo plaid and buttoned up all the way to the neck. “How do I look?” he prompted.

“Uh, good,” said Sam, who couldn’t help but notice the way the flannel accentuated his narrow hips. “Like a hunter.”

Dean snorted. “He’s got a long way to go.”

Sam ignored him. “Will other shirts fit under it? It gets cold at night sometimes, so hunters tend to layer up.”

“I dunno. Give me a sec.”

He disappeared into the fitting room and came back out a minute later, looking the same as before.

“Did it fit?”

Mick nodded and tugged at the collar a bit. “But I must say, it’s quite warm with all these layers.”

Sam stifled a laugh. “Mick… are you… wearing another shirt under that one right now?”

“Yes, why?”

“You should unbutton the flannel, it’ll be a lot more comfortable.”

Sam stepped forward and unbuttoned the top few buttons without thinking. Mick stilled, and Sam realised that it was probably weird to help someone unbutton their shirt unless they - well. It would be weird to keep unbuttoning. Would it be weirder to stop? Sam kept going, feeling the heat of Mick’s body as he did so, until he’d unbuttoned every button and revealed the white t-shirt underneath the flannel.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and took a couple steps back.

Mick seemed as thrown as Sam was. “Thanks,” he said, his face redder than usual.

“No problem,” said Sam.

“Hey, Harry Potter, do they fit or not?”

Sam rolled his eyes as Mick answered. “They fit.”

“Cool. Hurry up and change back so we can by them and get out of here.”

“He still needs some jeans,” Sam reminded him.

Dean snorted. “Wanna help him unbutton those, too?”

“Dean!”

Mick went oddly quiet, his fist balling in the bottom of the flannel.

“Ignore him, he’s just being a dick,” Sam muttered. “Come on, let’s go find you some pants.”

Mick ended up choosing some yoga pants over jeans because he liked how flexible they were - and they were flexible indeed. They moulded to his lower half the way Dean’s memory foam mattress moulded to his body. Every time Sam thought about it, he face heated up and he got tingly all over.

The baku leaped forward, its claws outstretched, ready to scratch Mick’s face off. Sam barrelled into it from the side, knocking in over. It bared its teeth at him and screeched horrifically,

“Sam!” Dean shouted. “You help Mick, I’ll keep it away!” He began herding it out the door.

“Dean! Wait!” But Dean ignored him and chased it out of the room, so Sam scrambled over to Mick. Tears streamed down his face as he clutched at his bloody leg.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Sam mumbled, opening the first aid kit, “you’re gonna be fine, hang on, just give me a minute.” Sam pressed a dressing to the cut. “Can you hold this here for me?”

Mick nodded.

Sam began applying the roller bandages. “Do you feel any different? Lightheaded, dizzy, nauseous?”

“Um,” said Mick, “dizzy. Tired.”

“Okay,” said Sam. He tied off the bandages and leaned back on his heels. “Can I look at your pupils for a second?”

Mick nodded, so Sam leaned forward and examined them. “They’re not enlarged, so I don’t think you’re going into shock yet, but you will soon if we don’t close that wound.”

“Sammy!”

Sam looked up sharply. “Dean!”

Dean entered the room, grinning broadly, both he and his angel blade covered in blood. “I got him!”

“By yourself? Do you even know how dangerous that is?”

Dean shrugged. “It worked, didn’t it?”

By the time Sam finished the last of Mick’s stitches, Dean had showered and left to go to a bar.

Sam stands up and stretches leisurely. “You want to get dinner?” Vaguely, he thinks of taking Mick somewhere not too expensive but classier than Dominos.

“How about some takeout?”

“Sounds good.” Mick shouldn’t be going anywhere with his new stitches, anyway.

They order Chinese from a place down the street and ate on their beds, chatting about lore and the case and other trivial topics. When they’re done, Sam takes Mick’s trash for him so he doesn’t have to get up and gets them both beers.

Mick turns on the television and they channel surf for a while before landing on some conspiracy theory show. It was an awkward angle to watch from Sam’s bed, but he was tired and didn’t really care.

Mick patted the bit of mattress next to him. "Come over here. You'll get a crick in your neck."

Sam obeyed silently, heart beating faster as he got closer to Mick.

They clinked beer bottles. "Cheers to a successful hunt."

"Cheers," said Sam.

It wasn't long before he was pleasantly buzzed. The room was warm, the television dimly lit the room, and Mick was slowly leaning on his shoulder. Sam wasn't sure if it was because he was tired or because of... other reasons, but Sam wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He put his arm around Mick's shoulders and pulled him in closer. Mick went willingly, settling in closer to Sam's body.

The television faded into the background as Sam watched Mick's chest rise and fall. Its rhythm was slow and steady, like Sam's, but probably not because Mick was drunk. Sam didn't even know if he could get drunk, based on that time Mick slept over at the bunker. He had gotten at least a little tipsy, though, with pink spots on his cheeks and lips wet from alcohol. Mick's lips were really pretty when he was drinking. Sam shifted them so he could see if Mick's lips were that pretty right now.

"Sam?"

Sam realised he was staring, but he didn't think to stop. Something somewhere in his brain connected, and he asked, "Can I kiss you?"

Mick looked up at him and Sam was half a second away from retracting his question when Mick said, "Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes."

Sam leaned over and just kind of... smushed his lips against Mick's. They weren't so much kissing as feeling each other's skin and breath. Sam brought his left hand up to cup Mick's cheek and turn his face to get a better angle. It was chaste and sweet, like teenagers kissing for the first time. Except they were adults and drunk instead of teenagers.

Mick pulled him down to reach him easier until Sam was laying flat on his back with Mick leaning over him. They separated slightly in order to breath and took a moment to just look at each other.

Sam absently stroked his thumb over Mick's cheekbone. “Y’know… you're really cute. And smart.”

Mick thumped his forehead onto Sam's chest and giggled the most un-Mick-like giggle ever. It was adorable.

“So…” Sam absentmindedly rested his hand on the back of Mick’s head. “Do you… like me?”

Mick sighed. “Probably.”

“Probably?”

“I’m not good at people,” he confessed. “Or feelings.”

“Does that mean we’re not going to do this again?”

Mick was silent.

Sam’s heart sank. He nodded, a lump in his throat. “Okay.”

“I didn’t say no.”

Sam tilted his head to look at his eyes. Mick met his eyes and smiled. Sam smiled back.

#otrerawrites #sammick #spnrareshipcc #truthfulnomad #mick davies #sam winchester #idk for certain #but i think if you view this directly from my blog #it ignores the read more and shows the whole post #so ill tag this #long post #also idk who fredy krueger is i had to look him up #so i used it more as inspiration than as the main idea

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hannah-deserved-better · 6 years

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Thanksgiving in Ireland

SPN Rare-pair round 23 @hannah-deserved-better vs. @tobythewise

Prompt: French Silk Pie

Ship: Sam/Eileen

Word Count: 1080

Warnings: Mild smut

Summery: Sam and Eileen enjoy cooking together as they anticipate Dean's arrival in their home in Ireland. Of course, cooking together is bound to result in someone's face in a pillow later on.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15539439/chapters/39244920

Eileen walked into her small cottage kitchen with her arms full of grocery bags. Setting the bags on the counter, she started unloading each item, thinking about what she would need. She sensed another presence in the room and wasn’t at all surprised when a pair of strong arms suddenly snaked across her slightly swollen belly, pulling her into a tight embrace.

“Hello, Sam,” she said as she turned around in his arms and came face to face with his gleaming hazel eyes, long locks, and pleasant smile. “Did you get the flour?”

“Of course,” Sam replied, kissing her on the mouth as she settled into his arms. “I got a little extra, just in case. Are you sure we have everything we need?”

“Don’t worry,” Eileen replied with a smile. She raised her hands to sign as she spoke, happy when Sam followed her cue. He’d gotten pretty good at sign language throughout their relationship, and she had even taught him a few hunters lingo signs. “Our first Thanksgiving in Ireland is going to be perfect. When does Dean’s flight come in, by the way?”

“In a few hours,” Sam replied. “I hope the traffic into Limerick won’t be too bad. It’s not like Thanksgiving is a big thing around here.”

“No,” Eileen confirmed. “But it will be in our house.” Eileen smiled as Sam’s eyes traveled down to her belly, lingering on the small bulge only slightly visible through her sweater. “Does he know about this?” she gestured to her belly.

“No,” Sam admitted. “I’ve been figuring out how to tell him. I don’t know how he’ll take it. Dean’s always been wary of the whole family thing considering the life we had growing up. And you know, there’s the hunting.”

“Well there have been hunters who have raised families,” Eileen pointed out, signing pointedly before turning to look through her groceries. Sure this baby had been a surprise, neither of them had been planning for it, and Dean was already disgruntled at them for getting a place in Ireland and forcing him to face the dreaded airport to see them. Eileen is surprised he hadn’t tried to drive the impala across the Atlantic ocean.

It wasn’t as if they lived in Ireland permanently. They still spend half the year in the states, living out of the bunker, but when Eileen received news that her grandfather’s farm outside her hometown was for sale, there was no way she wasn’t going to jump on the chance.

“I have a good way of easing Dean into the idea of us living here,” Sam signed when she turned back to look at him as she busied herself with pulling out the appropriate pots and pans. “By making sure this Thanksgiving is incredible. Especially the pie part.”

“Well, let's see,” Eileen went over all the dishes in her head. “We have the goose in the oven already.” She smirked as Sam inhaled the aroma wafting out from the oven. Sam thought it would be funny to mess with Dean by adding small touches of Ireland to the Thanksgiving feast Dean was no doubt expecting. A goose instead of a turkey. Blood sausage. Roasted Brussel sprouts and parsnips.

“What about the pies?” Sam asked with concern. “That’s pretty important. We can’t skimp on the pies.”

Eileen only rolled her eyes at that, though she gave him an amused smirk. “How does French silk pie sound?” she asked. “Satin silk pie to be exact.”

Sam gave her a blank stare which told her he’d never heard of this particular pie before. She smiled as she lined up all the ingredients for him. “Its like chocolate pudding pie but a little more complex. It’s made with dark chocolate. Think he’d like that?”

“Dean likes anything pie related,” Sam replied as Eileen pulled up the recipe on her phone and handed it to him and watching him get to work on mixing the ingredients together. Eileen watched him fondly for a while. She enjoyed cooking together with Sam. The two planned their meals together, and Eileen enjoyed introducing him to the dishes of Europe that he wasn’t used to in the states.

She could hardly anticipate what came next. Or she probably should have, this ritual of cooking together usually involved some after cooking romance, but not long after the final touches were made on Thanksgiving dinner, Eileen found herself with her face buried in a pillow, moaning and whimpering in pleasure as Sam ground into her from behind.

He gripped her hips hard as she rocked back and forth with a desperate ferocity that she was sure would cause sparks if that were possible. Shouting out a few curse words as she was overcome with the tantalizing pleasure as she felt him grip her hips, squeezing them hard as he brought her to climax one more time before releasing as well.

“Oh shit, Sam…” Eileen gasped as she rolled onto her back, panting for air, her naked body heaving and glistening with the heat of passion. Sam only responded with a chuckle as he leaned forward and kissed her belly, pressing a hand to her skin as he gazed across her flushed body at her.

“I should get ready to head to the airport,” he suggested as he pressed a kiss into her skin. “Will you two be fine while I’m gone?”

“We’ll try to manage,” Eileen responded, squirming a little as a lock of Sam’s hair tickled her sensitive skin.

Eileen watched the love of her life get dressed and head out the bedroom door. She heard the front door close moments later. Not bothering to get dressed just yet, she meandered out of the bedroom, goosebumps erupting on her skin as she moved through the house, flipping on the heater as she passed the thermostat.

She came into the kitchen, smiling at the feast they had put together. Of course, there was still plenty to do, and Sam would be back before it was completed, but Eileen had to admire the french silk pie sitting on the counter, waiting eagerly for Dean to arrive. She checked the turkey before heading back to the room to change, making sure to wear something baggy to hide her belly. She didn’t want it to be the first thing Dean noticed when he got there.

Eileen Leahy was eager to show the Winchesters how the Irish celebrated the holidays.

#spnrareshipcc #Sam/Eileen #tobythewise #french silk pie #thanksgiving #round23

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andromytta · 6 years

Text

Claire’s Nightmare

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16467038

SPN Rare Ship CC: Round 22 | andromytta vs. @otrera-kicks-ass

Prompt: Freddy Krueger

Ship: Claire Novak/Kevin Tran

Word Count: 10,200

Tags/Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Blood and Gore, Canon Typical Violence, Major Character Injury

Summary: Claire Novak goes to Hastings, Nebraska to investigate what she believes to be a werewolf pack eating it's way through Hastings' teenagers. What she finds is so much different than she expected, and her case leads her to an old house on Elm Street. The question is, is Claire Novak hunting Freddy Krueger, or is Freddy Krueger hunting Claire Novak?

Author’s Note: Special thanks to my beta, @vampamber, who I think is the only person who knows the Nightmare franchise better than me, and to @l8nit-l0vr for the fabulous aesthetic!

Claire Novak pulled her red Subaru next to the ramshackle house at 1428 Elm Street in Hastings, Nebraska. She chose this case because kids her age were being slaughtered by something unknown. It didn’t hurt that it was only a couple of hours from the Men of Letters bunker, and she could spend the night with Kevin Tran if she wanted to. But that was neither here nor there. She had a monster to kill, and she had a pretty good idea of what it was. Or, she thought she had when she first caught wind of the bodies piling up in Hastings.

The official report stated exsanguination due to sharp force trauma as the cause of death. The police thought they were looking for a serial killer with a penchant for knives. When Claire saw the crime scene photos, and the slash marks all over the bodies, slash marks that looked like claws, Claire was sure the murderer (or murderers) was a pack of werewolves. Her specialty.

Her first stop was at the coroners’, to get a good look at the bodies and confirm what she already knew. Jody was always telling her not to jump to conclusions, so she needed to be one hundred percent sure these deaths were the work of werewolves. So, she expected to find missing hearts to go with exsanguinated bodies. What she found was nothing like what she was expecting.

“As you can see, the hearts are still there. Mangled to all hell, but still there,” the coroner explained matter-of-factly. “In fact, I don’t think this is a case for Animal Control at all, young lady. You see these cuts?” The doctor gestured to the newest body on the slab with her lollipop. “These were most definitely made by blades, not claws. That means the police are right and this is some human whack job, not wild animals.”

“Do the police have any clues?” Claire asked, hoping the coroner wouldn’t just dismiss her out right.

The coroner gave her a once over, as if trying to figure out what she was up to. She shrugged and answered her question. “That’s the weird thing. There were no prints and no DNA. Not a single shred of evidence was left behind. Either this serial killer is just that good…or something else is at work here.” The coroner threw her a wink before adding, “But that’s not really our jobs, is it?”

“No, of course not,” Claire agreed hurriedly. “Thank you for your time. Guess I’ll be going. Nothing for Animal Control here.” She left quickly.

Thus, her real investigation started. She had no idea what she was up against, but had traced all of the victims’ movements to this one dilapidated house. She thought it looked vaguely familiar, like something in the back of her mind nagging at her, but whatever it was, she couldn’t grasp it. Claire shook off that feeling, as well as the chills that were suddenly lodged in her spine and decided to investigate.

Claire made her way to the door and pulled out her lock picking set. Before she could even begin to pick the lock, the door suddenly swung open. Claire looked around her, expecting a breeze to be the culprit, but all of the surrounding trees were still. She shrugged and walked into the house anyway. As soon as she crossed the threshold, the door slammed shut behind her. “Well, that’s not creepy. At all,” she said to no one.

Steeling herself with a deep breath, Claire looked around. It was quite evident that taggers had their fun, as the walls were covered in graffiti of all sorts, in all shades of the rainbow. She took her digital camera out of her bag and started taking pictures of it, as she was well aware any manner of occult symbols could be hidden among the curse words and dick pics all over the walls.

Claire thoroughly explored the first floor. In what used to be the living room, she found where the dead kids had clearly been using the place as a make out den. There were sleeping bags and used condoms scattered about. “Gross.” After that, she made her way into the kitchen. The wall paper was peeling and torn, the appliances looked like they had seen better days, but other than that, there was nothing of significance. One thing she didn’t find was blood, but she wasn’t expecting to, since all the victims had died in their own beds. Finding nothing on the first floor, she made her way to the second floor.

As she climbed the stairs, her foot fell through the rotting boards about halfway up. Determined, she wouldn’t be stopped. Claire continued her trek, her foot sinking into each stair on the staircase. She made it upstairs, unscathed, and explored it one room at a time. At first, she didn’t find anything that different than what she found downstairs; a home that had been abandoned by its owners and left as-is. The master bedroom was just that, a master bedroom. It had fallen into disuse and decay, but there was nothing sinister about it. It was the same in the bathroom and one of the other bedrooms. That all changed when she reached the bedroom at the end of the hall.

She opened the door, and the room was covered in blood spatter. The spatter was clearly several decades old, but it was crystal clear that this room had once been a crime scene. Swallowing her initial shock, Claire entered the room, caution be damned. She slowly made her way around the room, taking in everything. Other than the blood, it looked like a normal teenaged girl’s room. There were pictures on the walls, and the brass bed was covered in soft blue bedding that looked like it might have been a floral pattern before it was blood covered. The nightstands matched the dresser. She noticed the pill bottles almost immediately. There was an almost full bottle of what appeared to be sleeping pills, prescribed to Nancy Thompson. Next to that was a nearly empty bottle of over the counter No Doz. “Whoa, this poor girl had issues,” Claire breathed to herself. That’s when an epiphany struck. It had to be a vengeful spirit, most likely Nancy Thompson. Her next move was clearly to look into Nancy’s life and see what she could find out.

Claire carefully made her way back down the stairs, avoiding the holes left when her feet were sucked into the stairs. She made it to the front door without further incident, blinking into the sunlight once she was outside. When her eyes finally adjusted, she looked across the street to where she heard chanting coming from. There she saw three girls dressed in white dresses from another century jumping rope. “Three, four, better lock your door. Five, six, grab your crucifix.” They were jumping in time to the rhythm of their rhyme. Claire would be lying if she said she wasn’t mildly freaked out. She quickly got into her car and drove away without looking back.

Claire spent the rest of the day in the library finding out anything and everything she could about Nancy Thompson, so that it was well after dark by the time she made it back to her motel room with her to-go greasy diner food. She could practically hear the lectures from Jody, Kevin, and Castiel as she dug into the gooey burger and crispy fries. As she ate, she went over everything she had learned about Nancy so far. Nancy Thompson was killed when she was just eighteen years old, a promising high school senior. Claire managed to get her hands on the autopsy photos (and if she had to flirt with the perky brunette coroner and take her out for a drink, well it was all just part of the job, right?) What she found should have surprised her more than it had. Nancy’s wounds were exactly like the ones on the recent victims. Claire also discovered that all of Nancy’s friends had fallen victim to the same serial killer. It turned out, authorities were working on the theory that the killer from 1984 was back. They couldn’t account for the fact that that killer would have to be 54 years old, at the youngest, assuming he started killing when he was 20. Considering the sophistication of the crimes, that seemed unlikely to Claire. There was also the niggling in the back of her mind that if the current kills weren’t done by Nancy’s vengeful spirit, then there was something else killing kids, and it was most likely the same thing that killed kids 34 years ago.

All those thoughts continued to swirl in Claire’s head as she took a shower, and swirled still as she fell into a fitful sleep. This case was already all consuming, and if she wasn’t already so exhausted, she might take a moment to be worried about that. As it was, she even forgot to check in with Jody or Kevin or anybody to let them know she was alright. Claire tossed and turned in bed for hours.

***

Claire walked up the immaculate sidewalk that was flanked on either side by a perfectly manicured lawn. The gray house and blue door were in pristine condition. She opened the door and walked into the brightly lit foyer. She followed the voices into the dining room just to the left. When she entered the room, her parents stood up from where they were having dinner.

“Claire! We thought you weren’t coming home for spring break! I thought you were road tripping with Alex and Patience.” Amelia Novak said as she wrapped her daughter in a big hug.

“I just decided to come home. I missed you guys.” Claire said with a shrug as she sat down at the table.

“Well, that’s great. We’re always glad to have you home,” Jimmy said. “How’s school going?”

“It’s good. It’s real good.” Claire said, beaming at her parents. “Changing my major to criminal justice was the best thing I ever did. My new advisor, Jody, I mean, Professor Mills, is fantastic.”

“That’s wonderful, Sweetie!” Amelia said as she passed the pot roast over to her daughter. “Tell us all about it.”

“Not so fast, girls,” Jimmy chastised them. “We need to say grace first. Then Claire can tell us everything over dinner.”

The said grace, and as they started to tuck into their food, Claire began an epic tale about how great her classes were, how awesome her friends were, and how totally in touch her advisor was. She was about to tell her parents about how she and Alex took Patience out for her birthday when all of a sudden, out of nowhere, everything came to a screeching halt.

A man appeared behind Amelia and slashed her chest open with his claws. He gave the same treatment to Jimmy shortly after. But wait, it wasn’t claws. It was a glove, with knives for fingers. The man looked at Claire from under his dirty fedora. He pointed a knived finger at her. “I’m coming for you next, Blondie.” His burned and scarred face twisted up into a sinister grin. “One, two, Freddy’s coming for YOU!” He laughed maniacally.

Claire startled awake, the man’s evil laugh and the rhyme stuck in her head. She couldn’t shake the image of her parents being slaughtered in front of her. She grabbed the waste basket next to her bed and vomited into it. Tears were streaming down her face, but she didn’t give in to the sobbing that wanted to wrack her entire body. “No way, dude. I’m coming for you!” She packed up her belongings and left the motel, dropping her key card into the express check out box on her way out. She made it the 66 miles to the Men of Letters bunker in less than an hour.

***

It was still the middle of the night, everyone at the bunker was likely still asleep. Claire was still shook up and couldn’t get her key to work. She started pounding on the door, hoping someone would hear her. Kevin and Charlie sometimes stayed up late playing video games, and Castiel didn’t sleep. Dean barely slept. Surely someone would hear her and let her in. She needed to get in. She could still hear the burned man laughing behind her. “Come on, guys! Let me in! Let me in!”

Charlie Bradbury opened the door, her curly red hair in disarray. She took in the sight of Claire on the other side of the door, shaking, tears streaking her face. She barely got the words “What the” out of her mouth before Claire stumbled in, almost falling into the other girl’s arms. Charlie wrapped her in a big hug, and finally, Claire let the tears go and started crying for real. Charlie led her down the stairs and into the library where she and Kevin had an epic game of Mario Kart going on. Charlie said, “I think this belongs to you,” and handed Claire over to her boyfriend.

Kevin sat Claire down on the sofa. “Babe, what happened? What’s going on?”

Claire took a deep breath and told them all about the bodies that brought her to Hastings in the first place, and what she found once she got there. She told them about the house and what she found in the bedroom at the end of the hall. Finally, she said, “At first I thought it was the vengeful spirit of that Nancy Thompson girl, but then I had this dream, and oh God, it was awful. My parents were there, and then this man…or this monster…with burns and scars all over his skin and wearing this dirty red and green sweater…he-he came up behind them and slashed them to death with this…this weird glove-thing. And he said I was next. What was that rhyme? Oh, yeah. ‘One, two, Freddy’s coming for you….” She trailed off, and Kevin and Claire were just looking at her. “What? What? Why are you looking at me like I have two heads?”

The two started talking at once, as if in sync.

“1428 Elm Street?” Kevin asked.

“Nancy Thompson?” Charlie chimed in.

“One, two, Freddy’s coming for you. Three four, better lock your door. Five, six, grab your crucifix.” They sing songed the rhyme in unison, and that’s when it hit Claire.

“That’s what those girls were singing!” She exclaimed.

“What girls?” Kevin asked.

“These girls were playing jump rope in the yard across the street. They were singing that rhyme while they were jumping.”

“Where they wearing white lace dresses?” Charlie asked.

“Yes, yes they were!” Claire practically shouted. “Do you know what’s going on here?”

“You mean you don’t know?” Kevin asked in a placating voice.

“If I knew, I’d be kicking its ass, not here talking to you nerds!” She snapped back.

“It’s A Nightmare on Elm Street,” Charlie tried to calmly explain.

When Claire stared at them with a blank look, Kevin filled in the blanks. “It’s a classic horror film where this guy, Freddy Krueger, haunts people in their dreams and kills them. Nancy Thompson was a character in the movie, she was his arch nemesis. But he didn’t kill her.”

“Well, not until the third movie,” Charlie pointed out. “But by then, she was an adult.”

“Um, yeah, I’ve never heard of it. Why watch horror movies when I live in them?” Claire asked without humor. “And if this is a horror movie monster, how is he killing in the real world, and how is there detailed information about the death of Nancy Thompson on the internet?”

Charlie picked up her laptop off the coffee table, quickly hit several keys, and then turned it around to show Claire. “See, nothing about a teenager with that name being murdered in 1984. Lots of stuff about her being a character in the films and a bunch of Facebook profiles for people with her name. All of whom appear to still be alive and kicking.”

“Ok, ok, ok!” Claire said more loudly than strictly necessary. “So how the heck is this movie monster guy killing kids in Hastings, Nebraska? And how did I find all of that stuff? The coroner even had crime scene photos.”

Kevin and Charlie looked at each other and said, “Tulpa” at practically the same time.

“Could you guys stop doing that? It’s freaking me out more than I already am!”

“Sorry,” they said contritely. Claire leveled them with a death glare.

The sat in silence for a beat before Kevin spoke up. “You said there was graffiti all over the house and you took pictures, right? Let’s put it on Charlie’s computer and look at it. It’s likely someone painted a tulpa in that house. Someone who recognized the address and is messing with forces they do not understand.”

“Fine.” Claire dug her camera out of her backpack and handed it over to Charlie.

Kevin looked over at Claire as Charlie downloaded the photos to her laptop. “Babe, you look exhausted. Why don’t you go get some sleep?”

“No, no I can’t. I shouldn’t. Not yet. Not until we know how to kill this thought form or whatever he is.”

“Why don’t you two go to bed? No, Claire, you don’t have to sleep, just lie there and rest. Kevin, you go with her and keep her company. I’m going to look at these pictures and see if I can come up with anything.” Charlie said, and her voice brooked no room for argument.

“Good idea. Let’s go.” Kevin pulled Claire up off the couch and practically dragged her to his room.

Kevin tucked Claire into bed, curled up next to her, and Claire fell into a blissfully dreamless sleep. Possibly for the last time.

***

When Claire and Kevin finally emerged from his room, where they actually were just sleeping, it was to the smell of bacon and eggs and waffles. Dean, Charlie, and Sam were in the kitchen waiting for them. “It’s about time you two love birds made an appearance. Claire, there’s bacon, eggs, waffles, and some other stuff. Kevin, you can join Sam on the vegan side of the kitchen and leave the real food to the real men,” Dean greeted them as he was putting the final touches on breakfast.

“Dean, it’s you and Charlie and Claire. If any side of the room is the ‘real men,’ it’s us,” Sam protested with bitch face #9.

“Hey, just because we have lady parts instead of man bits does not make us any less real men,” Charlie quipped. “Just because you’re three times the size of me doesn’t make you more of a man!” She stuck her tongue out at the gargantuan Winchester.

Sam literally had no comeback for the feisty red head.

“Anyway,” Dean said as he sat down at the table. “Charlie filled us in on what’s been going on in Hastings. Is it really Freddy Krueger?”

“We think so,” Kevin said. “From what Claire described, it would be really strange if it wasn’t.”

Charlie chimed in, “But that doesn’t seem logical, since I couldn’t find a tulpa amongst the graffiti in the house. In fact, there were no occult symbols whatsoever.”

“Well, Cas should be back from Hastings in a little while. We’ll see if he can sense anything demon-y going on,” Dean said.

“You sent him by himself?” Claire exclaimed. “He’s not at full strength! What if Freddy comes for him?”

“Cas still doesn’t need sleep. It seems unlikely he’ll get attacked,” Dean explained. “He’s actually the least vulnerable.”

As if on cue, Castiel came into the bunker and joined them in the kitchen. “I didn’t sense anything demonic, or any vengeful spirits at the house,” he said without preamble. “But there is a very evil presence there, one I can’t identify. And Charlie is right, there is no tulpa symbol or anything else remotely occult painted anywhere in or on that house.”

“Hello to you, too, Cas.” Dean said with a grin.

“Hello.” Cas replied sarcastically to Dean. “Claire, I’m glad you are safe.” He added sincerely.

Dean turned his attention back to Claire. “You know, you really should have come to us first, especially working a case so close to home.”

“I thought I was dealing with a pack of werewolves. I think I know my way around them by now.” Claire replied with a growl.

“Yeah, and if it was just a pack of werewolves, you still could have used our help.” Dean stated.

“I’m not a kid anymore! I can take care of myself!”

“If you two are fighting with each other, then you’re not fighting the monster,” Cas said with exasperation.

“Sorry, Cas,” Dean said.

“Yeah, sorry,” Claire added.

“Ok, so what exactly are we dealing with here?” Sam asked, desperate to get the conversation back on task.

“Well, if there’s no tulpa or other occult symbolism, we need to figure out how Freddy is coming to life,” Charlie said.

“We could just burn the house down, be done with it,” Dean suggested.

“No! We can’t do that!” Claire exclaimed. “That house is in a neighborhood, with other people’s homes around it. We can’t risk burning down the other houses.”

“Also, there’s no guarantee it would even work,” Kevin pointed out. “Since it’s not a tulpa, we need to figure out what it is before we burn or destroy anything.”

Claire looked at her boyfriend like he hung the moon. “Babe, you are so smart.”

“Hey, there’s folks eating here!” Dean interrupted before the moment could get too mushy.

Claire took Kevin’s hand across the table and looked pointedly at Dean. “We don’t care.”

“Aw! Young love!” Charlie exclaimed.

“Ok, you guys are even kinda grossing me out,” Sam said. “Can we get back to the case?”

“I actually do have an idea about that,” Kevin started. “In the original movie, Nancy pulled Freddy out of her dream and into the real world, and there she was able to defeat him. Maybe Claire can pull him out of her dream.”

“Yeah, but he only let her think he defeated him. Remember, he created that dream where Nancy’s mom stopped drinking and all her friends came back to life. We knew he wasn’t dead because of Glen’s car.” Charlie pointed out.

Claire watched them, her head swinging back and forth between them. “What are you nerds talking about?”

“At the end of the movie, Nancy thought she defeated Krueger, and asked him to bring back her friends. But really, they were still dead. When Glen put up the rag top on his convertible, it was the colors of Freddy’s sweater, so the audience knew he wasn’t dead and it was all a trick.” Charlie explained.

“Ok, but that’s a movie and this is real. And I’m sure we know a lot more tricks than Nancy did. I can still bring him out of my dream and we can find a way to kill him, on our turf.” Claire said.

“Not if he’s a thought form,” Sam added.

“Yeah, how do you kill a thought?” Dean asked, unhelpfully.

“We have to figure out what’s giving it its energy,” Kevin suggested. “We may still need to bring him out of Claire’s dreams though, even if we do find its energy source. Hell, we may just have to do that to find the energy source.”

“What do you mean?” Claire asked.

“Like magic finds like. If we bring him out of your dream, he might lead us to whatever it is.”

“No, we can’t do that,” Claire said, suddenly discouraged. “We can’t risk bringing him into the real world. Think of how much more damage he can do on this side of the dreamscape. It’s bad enough what he’s doing now. And maybe, since he’s focused on me, we can keep him like that until we can kill him. Keep him coming after me so he doesn’t go after anyone else.”

“I don’t like it,” Dean said.

“You think I do? It’s my nightmare. But it’s the only way. Those kids in Hastings can’t hold their own with him. I can.” Claire had a determined set to her features, one Dean recognized, from the mirror. He knew there was no arguing with her.

“Fine, but I’m coming with you.” Dean said.

“You can’t,” Sam said. “We’re out of African dream root.”

“Then find some more!” Dean exclaimed.

“I actually have some on order from the herbalist in Topeka, but it’s on backorder, like, everywhere.” Sam stated. Dean leveled a look at his younger brother. “But I’ll call the guy and tell him to make it a priority.”

“Ok!” Claire said as she stood up and cleared her plate. “I’m going back to the murder house.”

“What? Why?” Kevin asked. He already did not like this idea.

“It’s where this guy’s energy is the strongest, right?” Claire looked at Cas for confirmation.

“Yes, but it’s evil energy, Claire. Very evil,” Cas said.

Claire rolled her eyes. “Obviously. But if I’m going to keep him focused on me, and away from innocent high school students, I need to be where he can find me.”

“But you’re going now? It’s not like you’re going to sleep now.” Kevin protested.

“I know, but I need to get his attention.” Claire shrugged, “and maybe I can find whatever it is that’s fueling him.”

“I’m going with you.” Kevin said.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Claire smiled at him.

***

Charlie insisted on going with them, insisting she just had to see the Elm Street House, so a couple of hours later, they were pulling into the driveway.

“Holy mother of Chuck! This really does look like the house! It’s the same address and everything!” Charlie exclaimed as she got out of the car and practically bounced up to the ramshackle house. “I mean, clearly it’s seen better days, but it could be the same house. Which is weird, since that house is in California.”

“Yes, but Freddy Krueger did say that every town has an Elm Street,” Kevin added unhelpfully.

“You’re right,” Charlie agreed.

“Could you two nerds stop fangirling over this creepy ass house and help me find a way to stop this bastard?” Claire said, slamming her car door and stomping up to the house.

As soon as they were through the door, Charlie took a look around and with a definitive nod declared, “Yeah, this place is disgusting. We are not staying here. We’ll spend time looking around to see what we can see, but then we’re going back to own beds at the bunker.”

“Fine, let’s get on with it,” Claire griped, stomping around the first floor.

As they explored the house, Kevin and Charlie decided to take more detailed pictures to see if they missed anything. Claire looked around the living room and kitchen again, but didn’t find anything different than before.

“There’s nothing new down here. Let’s go upstairs,” Claire said after circling the first floor for the fifth time.

“Ok, come on,” Kevin agreed while Charlie continued taking pictures. “Charles, we’re going up stairs!”

When they started climbing the stairs, Claire kept looking down, clearly confused. “Babe, what’s wrong?” Kevin asked.

“It’s the stairs,” Claire said.

“Yeah, what about them? They look like normal stairs.”

Claire looked at Kevin like he was the one going crazy. “Exactly. When I was here yesterday, my foot fell through the stairs, all of them from about half way up.”

“That’s like what happened to Nancy in the movie!” Charlie exclaimed behind them, causing at least one of them to scream like a little girl. It was Kevin.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! You scared the shit out of us!” Claire chastised her.

“Sorry, my dudes. But I was not about to be left alone down there.” Charlie shuddered at the thought.

“Fine, let’s get on with it then,” Claire said in an annoyed whisper.

“Why are we whispering?” Kevin asked.

“Shhh!” Claire and Charlie said to him.

They went from room to room, each one empty save for cob webs and dust bunnies. There wasn’t even the dilapidated furniture Claire saw on her last visit. “This is so weird. These rooms were furnished, I swear,” Claire whispered in awe. “What the fuck is even going on?”

“I don’t know,” Kevin whispered back as he took her hand. “But we’ll figure it out.”

Finally, they made their way to the room at the end of the hall, Nancy’s room. Claire gasped and slowly entered the room, dropping Kevin’s hand in the process. She walked slowly around it, touching things. Everything was still there, Nancy’s furniture, her posters, even the blood spatter. The pill bottles were still on the nightstand. “Do you guys see this? Charlie, take pictures.”

Kevin walked in behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Claire, Sweetie, there’s nothing here. This room is as empty as all the rest.”

“He’s right,” Charlie agreed. “There’s nothing for me to take pictures of, except blank walls and empty space.”

“No, you’re wrong! How come you can’t see it? Look, this is her bed, Nancy’s bed!” She pointed at the bed. “See her pictures on the walls? Her furniture? And the worst part, her blood. It’s everywhere.”

Kevin took her hand again. “Well, let’s just say it’s something you can see but we can’t. Charlie, take pictures. Maybe something will be picked up on camera that we don’t see.”

“Good idea,” the red head agreed.

“So, you guys don’t think I’m crazy?” Claire asked softly.

“Of course not. We’ve all seen stranger things than a room that only one person can see.” Kevin said.

“Ok, good. Well, let’s get out of here and head back to the bunker. I should probably go to sleep soon.” Claire said. “Oh, wait,” she stopped before heading out the door and grabbed something only she could see off of the nonexistent nightstand and shoved it into the pockets of her leather jacket. “Now we can go.” She nodded and headed for the stairs.

As soon as she stepped out into the sunshine, Claire heard it. “One, two, Freddy’s coming for you. Three, four, better lock your door. Five, six, grab your crucifix. Seven, eight, better stay up late…” And there they were, right across the street, just like before. She also heard Kevin and Charlie whispering behind her.

“You see that, right?” Kevin said.

“Definitely,” Charlie replied, pulling out her camera and taking pictures.

Claire turned to look at them, her blonde hair whipping around with her. “You see those creepy girls too, right?”

“Yep,” Charlie said, popping the “p” as she continued to snap photos.

“Yeah,” Kevin said, his voice trailing off as he reached for Claire’s hair. “Um, Babe, your braid…it’s white.”

“What?” Claire asked as she grabbed her hair from his hand. Sure enough, her “Viking warrior” braid she always had during a hunt had gone from blonde to white instantly. “Let me guess, the same thing happened to Nancy?”

“Yeah,” Kevin said. “When she brought Freddy’s hat out of her dream, her hair suddenly had a silver streak in it.”

“Whoa, wait,” Claire said as she pulled the two bottles from her pockets. “Look.”

Kevin stared at the bottles Claire held out in her hands, and Charlie grabbed them. “Oh my gosh! This is a prescription for Benzodiazipine, for Nancy Thompson, from May of 1984. This other one is No Doz that expired in the eighties. This is what you found in her room?”

“Yeah.” Was all Claire said.

“A prescription for a fictional character from an empty room in an abandoned house. What the hell have we gotten ourselves into?” Kevin asked.

“I have no idea, but we have to stop it,” Claire said, taking a shaky breath and heading towards her car.

Charlie put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You will. Freddy is always defeated by a young woman.”

“Yeah, but he always comes back,” Kevin added, unhelpfully.

“Well, I’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen this time,” Claire said with determination.

***

Back at the bunker, Kevin and Charlie dug into the research, trying to figure out what was tying Freddy Krueger to the real world. Their laptops clacking away like dueling pianos of data compiling. Claire paced around the library, rattling the pill bottles she hadn’t been able to let go of since they left the murder house.

“Hey, Babe, can you sit down, you’re kinda making me anxious over here,” Kevin said after about thirty minutes.

Claire scowled at him. “No, no I can’t sit down. The only way I can get to Freddy is in my dreams. In order to dream, I need to sleep. In order to sleep, I need to get rid of this excessive energy. So no, I cannot sit down.”

Dean appeared as if on cue. “Come on, Kiddo, there are more productive ways to burn off excess energy. Let’s let the nerds do their thing.” He led her out of the library and down the hall. “So, what will it be? Shooting range or punching bag?”

“Punching bag,” Claire said. “I would really enjoy hitting something right now.”

“Good idea. Let’s go.” Dean took her down to the ancient bunker’s somehow perfectly equipped gym.

Claire was just getting her rhythm going on the heavy bag, hitting and kicking it for all she was worth, while Dean was cheering her on from the chair in the corner. “Great job, Kiddo. Kick its ass!” When Kevin came running in.

“We think we found something. We might know what he’s tied to! What’s tying Freddy to the real world!” Kevin said, clearly out of breath.

The interruption startled Claire out of her rhythm, and when she suddenly stopped her attack on the bag, it swung over and popped her hip causing her to stumble and nearly fall.

“Smooth move, Rocky,” Dean chuckled from the corner, earning a glare from Claire. Dean turned quickly away from her and instead asked Kevin, “What did you find out?”

“So get this, and I can’t believe Charlie and I didn’t figure this out before, but after they filmed the third movie, the original prop glove, you know, the one with razor fingers, well, it disappeared,” Kevin said in one breath. “Anyway, we think that glove is somewhere in that house, and the combination of that, along with all the psychic energy from everyone who is a fan of the films, well, it combined into one pretty powerful thought form that suddenly seems to have a taste for pretty blondes.”

“Well, that was a creepy way of putting it,” Claire said.

“She’s not wrong,” Dean added. “Are you sure it’s not you?” He chuckled.

“What? No!” Kevin protested, levelling his own glare on Dean.

Dean looked appropriately frightened. “Geez, did she teach you that?”

Kevin grinned and shrugged. “Maybe.”

***

That night Kevin and Claire were getting ready for bed. Claire was going to sleep while Kevin kept guard, which he was none too happy about. “Babe, are you sure you don’t want me to go in with you? Sam got a hold of the African dream root. I can be there for you.”

“No, no way,” Claire insisted. “If he kills you in my dream, you die in real life. I can’t risk that. I can’t lose you.” She said that last sentence almost to herself. “Besides, I need you here, awake, in case the shit hits the fan so you can wake me up. And no matter what, don’t let me sleep for more than an hour, ok?”

“Ok, yeah, fine, got it,” Kevin said, and if he pouted a little, well, no one commented on it.

***

Claire walked up the immaculate sidewalk that was flanked on either side by a perfectly manicured lawn. The gray house and blue door were in pristine condition. She opened the door and walked into the brightly lit foyer. She followed the voices into the dining room just to the left. When she entered the room, her parents stood up from where they were having dinner.

Except, it wasn’t Jimmy and Amelia Novak having dinner at the dining room table. Dean Winchester stood up and smirked at Castiel, who was at the head of the table. “Aw, look, Cas, our little girl is home from college. They grow up so fast!”

“Dean, what are you guys doing in my dream?”

“Well, I used some of that African dream root, and Cas, well, angels can dream walk and he insisted I not go in alone.”

“God, Dean, are you really this stupid? You know if he kills you here you die for real, right?” Claire shouted. “This is my fight!”

Dean came around the table and steered Claire to sit down. “Yes, but it’s a fight you don’t have to do alone. Besides, do you know how many creepy creepers have tried to kill me? It never sticks. I’m Dean Fucking Winchester.”

Freddy Krueger always had a sense for the dramatic, and this time was no exception. As if on cue, he appeared and gripped Dean’s face in his non-gloved hand. “And I’m Freddy Fucking Krueger, and what I kill, stays dead.” He turned his gaze on Claire. “I can take everything you love.” He reached his knived hand up and drove it towards Dean’s chest.

“NO!!!!!!!!” Claire shouted as Castiel reached across like the angel he was and caught Freddy by the wrist.

“Wait your turn, pretty boy, you’re next,” Freddy said as he wrenched his wrist out of Castiel’s iron grip.

“You can’t kill me. I’m an angel, you ass.” Castiel retorted as he reclaimed his grip on Freddy’s wrist and punched him in the face.

Freddy stretched his burned face into a wicked grin. “I can if these are angel blades.” Before their eyes, his razor blades suddenly became smooth, silvery angel blades.

Dean, who utilized the distraction to free himself from Freddy’s grip, asked in a small voice, “How-how did you know about those?”

“I’m in her head,” Freddy pointed at Claire. “Whatever Blondie knows, I know.”

“Fuck this shit! I will not let you hurt them!” Claire shouted, standing up and kicking the chair out from under her. She grabbed his wrist just below where Cas maintained hold on it. “I will find a way to stop you, and I’m sure this is the key!” With a burst of dream-induced strength, Claire pulled Freddy’s wrist free from Cas and slammed his glove into his face.

With a jump, Claire found herself back in bed. “What, what happened?”

“You told me to wake you in an hour,” Kevin explained. “You were tossing and turning pretty badly.”

“Oh my God! Dean and Cas! I need to make sure they’re ok.” She jumped out of bed and ran down the hall to Dean’s room and flung the door open. Dean was sitting up in his bed, Cas in the chair next to him with his hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“We’re ok, we’re both ok,” Dean assured her.

“Don’t you ever do that again!” Claire said, rushing into the room and giving them both a hug. “Please, don’t make me watch him hurt you.”

“Claire, you don’t have to do this alone. We can hold our own, you know.” Dean tried to reassure her.

“But that’s just it. I do have to do this alone. He chose me for a reason, and now I’m going to stop him.”

“Claire, you’re not being smart about this,” Cas added. “Let us help you.”

“That’s just it, you can’t help me. All you’ll do is distract me. Next time, I have to go in alone. But I won’t go without a plan, I promise,” Claire pleaded with them.

“So, what, you’re just not going to sleep again until you have plan?” Dean did not like where this was going.

“If that’s what I have to do, then that’s what I have to do.” Claire said with a shrug.

Dean realized there was no arguing with her, so instead he asked, “How can we help?”

“I’m not sure right now. I guess just let me and Kevin and Charlie do our jobs and find out where that glove is. Then, I can kill him.” Claire said, hoping they would drop it for now.

***

Claire, Kevin, and Charlie spent the better part of the week at 1428 Elm Street searching for the glove. They cleaned it up and set up a temporary command center. Kevin and Charlie would take turns going back to the bunker to sleep, with Castiel watching over them, just in case. (Angels didn’t need to sleep, so he was the best candidate for the job.) Meanwhile, Claire, who refused to sleep until she was ready to face Krueger again, was eating No Doz like it was candy.

“You know, you could be drinking these delicious cherry flavored energy drinks instead of popping those little pills,” Charlie said, wiggling a blue bottle in front of her.

“Easier to pop pills,” Claire said absently. She looked up briefly. “Does your bottle say ‘Bawls’?”

Charlie nodded then said, “At least tell me you’re not taking those expired ones you found in the dream room.”

“No, I bought these yesterday,” Claire said without looking up from the book she was flipping through. “They worked for Nancy, so they should work for me.”

“Guys, we’ve been all through this place with a fine toothed comb and we haven’t found a damn thing!” Kevin exclaimed suddenly, slamming his laptop down on the table. He was looking over the pictures Charlie had taken for the umpteenth millionth time.

His outburst seemed to knock Claire out of her stupor. She rounded the table to his side of it and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “We’ll figure it out, we have to. You’re exhausted. It’s your turn to go back to the bunker, why don’t you get some rest.” She kissed the top of his head just as Charlie’s phone rang.

“Elm Street Command Center, Queen of Moons speaking,” Charlie said, setting her phone on the table. “You’re on speaker, Bunker Control 1.”

“You’re on speaker too, Charlie,” Sam said from the other device.

“Hey, why is he Bunker Control 1?” Dean griped in the background.

Claire rolled her eyes, even though Dean couldn’t see her. “Hey guys. You got something?”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Sam made me watch the Freddy movies…”

“No, Dean made us watch. He’s the horror movie buff. Why would I willingly watch a horror movie when we live in one?” Sam interjected.

“That’s what I said!” Claire agreed.

“Anyway,” Dean spoke up again, “did you guys ever check the basement? Remember, in the first movie, Nancy’s mom kept the glove in the furnace in the basement.”

Kevin, Charlie, and Dean all started talking over each other as they were discussing the finer points of the films before Claire and Sam’s sharp whistles brought them back on task. “There’s just one problem with that,” Claire said. “This house doesn’t have a basement.”

“Yes it does,” Sam said. “I looked at the blueprints once Dean made his observation.”

“But we’ve been all over this place and never found basement stairs,” Kevin said.

“Of course we didn’t!” Claire exclaimed. “It’s another one of his tricks. Like Nancy’s room. He makes us see what he wants us to see. To mess with us.”

“Sam, email me those blueprints?” Charlie asked. “Claire and I will find it and we will find that glove. Kevin is on his way back to the bunker. It’s his turn to sleep.”

“Already sent, my queen,” Sam said. “Good luck. Talk to you guys later.”

“Later dudes,” Claire said before pressing “end call” on Charlie’s phone.

“I’m not going back to the bunker. I’m staying here to help you guys look for the basement and find the glove,” Kevin stated, trying to stifle a yawn and failing.

Claire shoved the car keys in his hand. “No, nope, no way. You are going back to the bunker and you’re going to get some rest. We’ve got this under control.”

“You’re one to talk,” Kevin griped as he let Claire lead him out to the car. “You haven’t slept in, like, a week.”

“Yeah, but I’m a hunter and we don’t need sleep. You’re a nerd. You do. Go home.” Claire gave him a quick kiss on the lips before pushing him into the car and watching him drive away.

“Welcome back!” Charlie chirped from her spot where she appeared to be hugging the wall. “While you were saying goodbye and good night to your looovah, I was looking over those blueprints that Sam sent. The basement should be behind this wall,” she stepped away and dropped her arms. “But all I can find is, well, wall.”

Claire strode purposefully up to said wall. “So, I guess the question now is, did this wall come from actual, physical renovation of the house, or is it a wall the same way Nancy’s room is filled with furniture and blood?”

“I’m going with door number two. I researched the history of this house, and it has never had a permit issued for renovation. I know, I know. It’s possible the owners didn’t apply for a permit, but a psychic wall just seems much more likely. And way cooler, if you ask me.”

“This Krueger creep does like to mess with our heads, that’s for sure,” Claire said as soon as Charlie paused for breath. “So, psychic wall it is. How do we get past it?”

“I don’t think we get past it so much as you get past it.” Charlie replied.

“So what do I do?”

Charlie shrugged. “I dunno. I guess just focus on it and concentrate really hard and think ‘basement door’?”

“Oh, that’s helpful,” Claire said sardonically, but did what Charlie suggested anyway and put her hands on the wall and thought “door.” It must have worked, because before long, Claire found herself turning a doorknob and the creaky door opened, its rusted hinges protesting loudly.

“You did it!” Charlie said slapping her arm jovially. She led the way down the stairs, turning on her industrial flashlight. “You know, it’s weird,” Charlie said as they started down the rickety steps.

“What’s weird?”

“Kevin and I have practically lived at this house for the past few days, and Krueger hasn’t come after us yet.” Charlie explained.

“Yeah, and your point? This is a good thing.”

“Nothing, it’s just weird. Not his M.O., you know? Freddy likes to kill the protagonist’s friends and leave her all alone and scared. So, it’s weird.” Charlie shrugged as they came face to face with the furnace. “Oh, look, here we are!”

Claire reached a tentative hand towards the furnace, illogically expecting it to come blazing to life under her touch.

“You’re supposed to open it, not pet it,” Charlie helpfully supplied.

“I know that!” Claire snapped and turned the handle to open the furnace. Nothing happened. “Dammit! It’s stuck.”

“Ok, so go let’s get the crowbar and jack this sucker open!”

Claire looked at the furnace, then to Charlie, then back again for several beats before saying anything. “I can’t. It’s in the car…that Kevin drove back to the bunker.”

“Well, shit,” Charlie said. “But this is a basement, surely there is something in here we can use to pry the door open. Start looking.”

Claire nodded and headed to one side of the room while Charlie took the other. As they looked, Charlie resumed their previous conversation. “So, why do you think we’ve been spared thus far?”

“Huh?” Claire asked as she rummaged through a shelf.

“From Freddy.”

“Oh, that’s a good question. Maybe it’s because he knows it will only piss me off more? Or maybe it’s like that one where that girl had to bring the other kids into her dream for him to find them.”

“You’ve been doing your homework,” Charlie said proudly.

“Yeah, well, when you’re hunting a monster, you study all the lore you can. Best lore on Freddy Krueger? The Nightmare on Elm Street movies. Also, gave me something to do since I’m currently not sleeping.”

“Good point,” Charlie agreed. “Ok, so why hasn’t he gone after Dean or Cas again? They were in your dream.”

“Well, Cas is an angel and therefore doesn’t need to sleep, and Dean…well, where do you think I keep getting the No Doz? He’s not sleeping either.”

“We really gotta get this guy. Not sleeping is not healthy, and I do not want to see my people die from lack of rest,” Charlie said with determination. That’s when she found it. “Ah ha! Crowbar acquired! Let’s bust that sucker open.”

“Excellent! Gimme!” Claire unceremoniously grabbed the crowbar from Charlie and went right to work on the stubborn furnace door. “Open says me!” She exclaimed as it popped open for her. She reached inside and nearly jumped as her hand closed around a cloth wrapped object. It practically buzzed in her hand. “Charlie, I think this is it.” She pulled it out carefully and unwrapped it with reverence. What was revealed was the exact prize they were looking for. Claire held the leather glove carefully, trying not to cut herself with the blades that were where the fingers should be. As she removed it from the cloth, the buzzing got stronger. “Charlie, do you feel that?”

“Feel what?” She snatched the glove out of Claire’s hand. “I don’t feel anything.”

“You can’t feel the power coming off of it?”

“No. You can?” Charlie looked in awe when Claire nodded. “That means this must be it. And that you are meant to find it, and use it.”

“What?” Claire squeaked. “What for?”

“To kill Freddy, obviously. Once and for all.”

The girls made their way back upstairs to their command center to start strategizing about what to do next. Before they even had a chance to start planning, Claire’s cell phone rang, followed closely by Charlie’s. When Claire saw who was calling her, her knees immediately went out from under her, and her breath left her body in a whoosh.

“Castiel, what’s wrong?”

“It’s Kevin, I’m afraid—“

Claire cut him off. “Oh God. He’s dead, isn’t he?”

“Claire, calm down. It’s just a coma.”

“Just a coma???? That’s even worse!”

Castiel sighed into the phone, sounding tired, even though that shouldn’t have been possible. “How is that worse?”

“I don’t know, but it’s just as bad!” Claire swallowed against a sob that barely escaped her throat. Taking a deep breath she finally asked, “What happened?”

“He was sleeping soundly, and suddenly he started thrashing around. I tried to wake him up, and I thought I succeeded, but then he suddenly went still. His body is whole and unharmed, aside from the coma. I could dream walk again, see if I can pull him out.”

“NO! Don’t you dare, Castiel. Freddy knows how to kill you. I won’t risk losing you both. It’s up to me, I have to save him. It’s what he wants, he wants me.” Claire said with determination. “Well, he’s going to get me.” She hung up her phone and clutched the glove to her chest.

Claire turned to Charlie who was just hanging up her phone. “Kevin is in a coma. Freddy’s got him. I have to go in and rescue him!”

“I know,” Charlie said. “That was Dean on the phone. He’s on his way to come get us. He made me promise not to let you do anything stupid before he gets here. He’s taking us back to the bunker and we can figure out where to go from there.”

“No way, Charlie! Who knows what Freddy is doing to him right now! Kevin may not have time for us to sit around the table contemplating our navels. I need to go after him now!”

“And just how do you propose to do that? You’ve been eating No Doz like candy. It’s not like you can fall asleep without some help.” Charlie gave her a smug look.

“You’re right!” Claire said, reaching into her coat pocket and pulling out Nancy Thompson’s Benzodiazipine and shaking it in the other girl’s face. “And look, I’ve got Nancy’s little helper right here.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow at her. “Those won’t work.”

“Yeah, they will.”

“Dude, those aren’t even real. Even if they were, they’re like, 34 years old. You’ll be lucky if they don’t make you puke your guts out.”

“Of course they’ll work,” Claire said, as if in a daze. “He left them for me. He wants me to use them.”

“Who?”

“Fred Krueger.”

“Well, that’s even more reason to not use them,” Charlie tried to reason with her, tried to kill time until Dean came to get them. She reached for the pills, but Claire snatched them away and held them close.

Claire came out of her daze and said with resolve, “I’m going after him, Charlie. There’s nothing you can do to stop me, so you should just help me.”

“Help you, how?”

“Watch over me. Wake me up if it looks like I need it. Don’t let him take both of us.”

“There’s no way I can talk you out of this, is there?”

“Nope,” Claire said with a swish of blonde hair.

“Ok then, I’ll keep an eye on you. But if Dean kills me, I’m coming back to haunt you.”

“You know, other people might find that funny, but hunters, not so much,” Claire said with a weak smile.

“Duly noted.” Charlie returned her smile with a matching one.

Claire poured a handful of pills into her hand and popped them into her mouth. Charlie handed her a water bottle to wash them down. Claire hopped onto the coffee table they were using as a desk, slipped on the razor tipped glove, laid down, and closed her eyes.

***

Claire walked up the immaculate sidewalk that was flanked on either side by a perfectly manicured lawn. The gray house and blue door were in pristine condition. She opened the door and walked into the brightly lit foyer. The light flickered and sparked out, and suddenly Claire was no longer in her brightly lit childhood home in Pontiac, Illinois. She was now in the dilapidated house at 1428 Elm Street, in Hastings, Nebraska (or any other Elm Street in America.) When she looked down, she was no longer dressed like “Biker Barbie.” Instead, she was dressed eerily like Nancy Thompson, in soft pink cotton pajamas with flowers embroidered on the lapels. Luckily, she was still wearing her best weapon, Freddy Krueger’s original glove.

As Claire took in her surroundings, she realized this wasn’t the Elm Street house she had grown used to. The furnishings were still there, for one thing. And they were oddly familiar. After just a few moments, she realized that not only was she in Nancy Thompson’s clothes, she was in Nancy Thompson’s house. “Really, dude? Could you be any less creative?” She said under her breath as she started to explore.

She found nothing on the first floor, but that’s what she kind of expected. There was really only one room in the house where Kevin was likely to be. Claire sighed and steeled herself as she made her way to the stairs. By now, she thought she knew what to expect. Freddy enjoyed messing with her. He did it at the other house, and this one would be no different. She gingerly stepped on the first stair. It was solid, but she carefully continued her ascent. Sure enough, by the time she got to the fourth stair, her foot sunk right in. What was freaking her out more than the sinking steps was the fact that she was not being chased, that she appeared to be totally alone in the house.

“Get it together, Novak,” she chided herself. She ran the rest of the way up the stairs, her foot sinking each time it hit carpet. She raced to the room at the end of the hall and flung the door open.

“So good of you to finally join us!” Freddy cackled. He was standing in front of the bed, holding Kevin off of the ground by his throat. His feet were kicking, seeking the ground, and he was barely breathing. The boy did not look good.

“Ok, so you caught a boy. Good for you. Why don’t you just toss him back? It’s me you really want.” Claire wasn’t sure if taunting an evil thought form was the best idea, but begging him to let Kevin go was absolutely not an option. Claire Novak didn’t beg. Ever.

Freddy looked over at Kevin and snarled, tightening his grip on the boy’s neck. He turned back to Claire. “Sorry, babe. I don’t participate in ‘catch and release’!” He started to squeeze harder when Claire dropped to a crouch and knocked him off of his feet with a sweeping kick. Startled by the unexpected attack, Freddy dropped Kevin, who managed to roll under the bed. Freddy looked up at Claire with a glare. “Who the hell do you think you are?” He rose to his feet without effort. “You really think you can stop me? Me?” He flexed his glove and advanced on her.

Having regained Freddy’s sole focus back on her, Claire flexed her own glove. “Gee, I have one of those too.” She spun around and sprinted out of the room, daring Freddy to take chase. He took the bait and followed her down the hall. Claire ran down the stairs, managing to avoid the foot sucking places, and before long found herself in the downstairs master bedroom. She took in her surroundings and suddenly had a plan. She got herself into position and waited for a mad man to find her.

The door swung open, hitting the wall with a resounding bang. “Freddy’s home!” He looked around the room, searching for the girl, when suddenly Claire swung around the post at the foot of the four poster bed, kicking Freddy square in the chest, causing him to stumble backwards. He regained his composure easily enough. Freddy laughed. “It will take more than that, little girl.”

“I know,” Claire said from where she had landed in a crouch on the floor. She reached up with the glove and grabbed and twisted, the blades causing her to fully castrate the man, bile oozing out, all over Claire and the floor.

Freddy howled and reeled in pain. He landed on his back on the floor. Claire straddled his midsection, pinning him to the floor. She thrusted her glove into his chest and ripped out his heart. She held the black, beating organ above his head. “I kill monsters, that’s who the hell I am!” She squeezed and crushed the heart between her hands as Freddy faded from existence.

***

Claire awoke with a start next to Kevin in his bed, where he was still sleeping peacefully. “How did I get here?” Before anyone could answer, she looked at Kevin, then to Cas. “How is he? Is he..?”

“He’s fine,” Castiel smiled. “He came out of the coma shortly before you woke up. He’s sleeping now and appears to be having pleasant dreams.”

“Thank God.” Claire breathed a relieved sigh. “But seriously, how did I get here?”

“I brought you here,” Dean answered from her side of the bed. “I told Charlie not to let you do anything stupid, but you did it anyway. She’s now in time out washing the cars in the garage.” He looked down at Claire’s hands, where she was still wearing the glove and holding the remains of Freddy’s dark heart. “Can we burn that now, please?”

“Fuck, yes!” Claire said, removing the glove and placing into the bowl that Dean somehow had ready.

Kevin chose that moment to stretch into wakefulness. He looked over at Claire. “Is it over?”

“Yeah, it’s over,” she said, kissing him on the lips.

“I knew you’d beat him.” He said, kissing her back.

Dean made a motion at Cas. “Um, we should probably leave them alone for a bit.” He then looked briefly to them. “Yo, the ceremonial burning of the bad guy’s stuff commences in five minutes, with or without you.”

Claire waved them off, barely acknowledging them as she continued kissing her now safe boyfriend.

***

Several days later, Claire was just waking up in her room in Sioux Falls. She was taking a much needed break from the bunker and hunting. She needed time with her surrogate mother and sisters. As she stretched, she felt something odd under her pillow. Reaching under her pillow, she pulled out the last thing she expected, a leather glove with razors where the fingers should be. She screamed and tossed the glove across the room. In the quiet that followed, she heard a dark chuckle and a low voice chanting:

Nine, ten, never sleep again!

#spnrareshipcc #Claire Novak/Kevin Tran #otrera-kicks-ass #freddy krueger #aesthetic by l8nit-l0vr #Charlie Bradbury #supernatural #SPN #men of letters bunker

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moondrunklove · 6 years

Text

Tequila

SPN Rare Ship CC: Round 19 | @tobiasreallylikeschicken vs. @samsbeecharmer

Prompt: State Fair

Ship: Sam Winchester x Jessica Moore

Word Count: 742

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, drinking, marijuana

Summary: Sam wants to get drunk but the only thing in the bunker is tequila, which comes with a flood of memories.

AO3 Link

The bottle of tequila on the bar cart had never been opened. It was the only liquor in the bunker, as Bobby had polished off the last of their bourbon the night before, and Sam couldn’t bring himself to open it. So he stared at it, picking at the label with his thumb.

She had insisted on taking a road trip and how could he say no to her? It didn’t matter that he had travelled the entire country by car a million times with his dad and brother, she made it all brand new. And every look he stole at her made him more certain he wanted to be with her forever. Her bare feet hung out the open window as she sang along to old country. It was somewhere around Colorado that they stopped. Jess had seen a billboard advertising the state fair and begged, prodded and pleaded until he agreed to pull off at the exit.

It was a hot day. He remembered that. Sweat pooled in the small of his back, soaking through his t-shirt. Jess, of course, looked perfect. She skipped ahead of him, barely able to contain herself.

“It’s been years,” she’d said. “I haven’t been to a fair in years. Please, Sam?”

He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he’d never been because John didn’t allow frivolity in any way, shape or form. If there wasn’t a practical application, why bother? He’d come close once when Dean and a date had taken him to one of those pitiful parking lot carnivals. He still had the ticket stub in a box he kept under their bed.

Before he knew it they had ridden every ride (he’d thrown up once), eaten funnel cake and now he was handing Jessica the giant, stuffed penguin he’d spent almost thirty bucks trying to win for her.

She was thrilled and as they were leaving, she announced that she’d already named him and that Reginald would be taking up residence in their apartment. Sam chuckled. Jessica was so beautiful and full of life. She didn’t know about werewolves or ghouls or anything that went bump in the night and he was never going to tell her.

She turned and flashed a blinding smile at him. “I think we have a bottle of tequila in here,” she said as she stuffed Reginald unceremoniously into the back seat. She dug around, her cute, denim-covered ass up in the air as she searched. Sam felt his pants get a little tighter. He shifted uncomfortably.

She popped back out, proud as punch, holding a bottle of Jose Cuervo. “Found it.”

Sam grinned at her. There was an idea forming and if he could pull it off, it would be pretty epic.

“I think I know a place we can go. Get in.”

Two hours later, in the dark after midnight, the two of them were laying on the hood of Jessica’s car, drinking tequila and smoking a joint Jess had stashed in her dash. They were parked up high, just outside the Red Rocks Amphitheatre, although they were technically still trespassing.

“I can’t believe we snuck into Red Rocks and there isn’t even anyone performing here.” She elbowed him playfully.

“Wait.” Sam said with a smile. He got up and turned on the radio.

Honky Tonk Woman by the Rolling Stones floated from the speakers. Sam turned them up and hopped back onto the hood.

“I love this song!” Jessica exclaimed, sliding off of the hood without spilling a drop.

She landed and as soon as her feet hit the ground, she was dancing. Thumb over the bottle to prevent any spillage, she twirled and moved her hips and danced like no one was watching. She’d stop occasionally to take a swig or a pull on the joint.

Sam was mesmerized. She wasn’t wearing much, just a pair of ragged shorts and her mom’s old sorority pledge shirt. Her blonde curls were wild in the moonlight. She had no inhibitions, she was bold, she was a force of nature and Sam couldn’t be more in love with her if he tried. She was so different from him and that gave him a fierce amount of joy, that she hadn’t been tarnished by monsters.

In his short nineteen years of life, he’d never been happier.

God, he missed her.

He put the bottle back on the cart. He still wasn’t ready. Maybe next time...

#spnrareshipcc #round 20 #sam winchester x jessica moore #sam x jess #tobiasreallylikeschicken #tequila #marijuana #fluff #love #young sam

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firefly124 · 6 years

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Catching Some Sun

@SPN RARE SHIP CC | ROUND#20: Fun in the Sun @firefly124 vs. @brieflymaximumprincess Prompt: Sunscreen Summary: A relaxing day at the beach is just what they need. Ship: Dreamhunter (Claire/Kaia) Word Count: 412 Tags/Warnings: mentions of past injury/scarring A/N: Thanks to @profound-boning for beta-reading! AO3 link

“You know, I’m not the only one who needs sunscreen,” Claire said. She turned to look over her shoulder and give Kaia a little smirk. “I might burn easier, but you need protection too.”

“I know,” Kaia replied. She squirted another dollop into her hand and spread it across Claire’s back, sending sparks along Claire’s nerves everywhere her fingers touched. “I’m just being thorough.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

“Shut up.” Kaia laughed. “Fine, your turn.”

“Thank you.”

They switched places on the blanket they’d spread out on the sand, Kaia looking out over the lake and Claire kneeling behind her. The sun warmed Claire’s shoulder and arm where they peeked out from the safety of the umbrella as Claire squeezed some of the sunscreen into her own hand and some into Kaia’s. Not that she’d mind putting it everywhere, but they were getting enough looks from people who needed their noses rearranged as it was.

Claire was careful to spread the lotion gently over the scars that were visible on Kaia’s shoulder blades before they disappeared below the one-piece suit she wore. Someday she hoped that either the scars would fade enough or Kaia would feel confident enough to wear a bikini, and not just so Claire could spend longer doing this.

Twice, she almost suggested going back to Donna’s cottage. Twice she bit the words back. This was the first time Kaia had been willing to be outdoors in a bathing suit at all since Claire had known her. There would be plenty of time to get it off her later.

Instead, Claire kissed her shoulder and whispered, “There. All done.”

“Okay.” Kaia pushed to her feet. “Last one in the water is a rotten egg!”

Claire stood with her jaw hanging open for a second before chasing her past the little kids building sand castles, past the guys who’d leered at them earlier, and into the cool water. Kaia greeted her with a splash and a grin. The twinkle in her eyes outshone the sun and made Claire’s heart skip a beat.

“Oh, you’re in for it now!”

“First you’ve gotta catch me,” Kaia said before turning to swim away. She kicked more water back at Claire, though it only splashed her a little this time.

“Gladly,” Claire murmured to herself with a smile as she watched Kaia slice through the water, sun glinting off her hair and skin. “Gladly.”

#spnrareshipcc #dreamhunter #claire/kaia #brieflymaximumprincess

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tobythewise · 5 years

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Lessons Learned

SPN Rare Ship CC: Round 24 | @tobythewise vs. @rarquette

Prompt: Naughty Coupon Book

Ship: Dean/Cas/Jimmy

Tags/Warnings: Mature, Established Relationship, Twincest, Implied Sexual Content, Frottage

Summary: Jimmy was hoping for sexy coupons, Dean gives him a lesson in helping out around the house, and Cas just sits back and laughs.

LINK

#spnrareshipcc #deancasjimmy #rarquette #mature #tobywrites #fanfic

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lotrspnfangirl · 6 years

Photo

@SPN RARE PAIR CC | ROUND#: 18 Scoobydoo @lotrspnfangirl vs. @firefly124 Prompt: Ruh-Roh, Sastiel

Dean: The kid’s cartoon is more honest than you two. Sammy: Shut up, Dean!

((This.... Guys, I can’t even. I DIED making this. I was stumped for what I was going to come up with and then, well, this happened. ))

#spnrareshipcc #firefly124 #sastiel #graphics challenges #my graphics #scoobynatural #whateven #i dont know

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deadlykittenkaywriting · 6 years

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Campfire love story

SPN Rare Ship CC: Round 20 | @deadly-kitten-kay vs. @waywarddream

Prompt: Camping

Ship: Mean (Meg/Dean)

Word Count: 556

Tags/Warnings: No archive warnings, Meg 2.0, campfires, bounty hunter!dean, fluff, sixteen candles reference.

Summary: Dean takes Meg to the annual camp out for the first time where the way they met is revealed.

AO3 Link

The campfire crackled and popped. The light casting an ombre of colors from yellow to orange upon the surrounding tents. The sounds of laughter, soft voices and the music of the crickets is the night's soundtrack as the woodsy smoke scent fills the air.

Meg lays back against her date's chest to gaze upon the stars. A navy blue almost inky black sky is littered with bits of white stars. She watches as a shooting star race across the sky and closes her eyes, taking the opportunity to make a wish.

The warmth of soft lips touched her temple and she smiles leaning into the kiss.

“Did you make a wish, Dean?” she asked.

He chuckled. “Nah, I'll leave that to you.”

Meg smiled and hummed when his arms tightened around her.

“Dean! You never told us how you and Meg met.” One of the girls around the fire called out.

“Yeah, Dean, give us the story. You've never brought a girl to the annual camp out.” Another one added.

Meg moved to look at Dean, the amusement clear in his eyes. “Truth?” he asked her softly. She nodded curiously as to what their response would be.

“She was a contract. Skipped bail and I got the pleasure of hunting her down.”

Meg snickered at the gasps and laughs that came from the fire. “He's not kidding,” she added. “I had skipped not only bail but didn't show up for my probation meeting.”

“She was a tough case too. Would disappear like a puff a smoke if I wasn't careful.”

“Do you blame me?” Meg laughed. “I didn't want to be caught!”

“But I got her,” Dean said with a fond smile on his face as he looked down at her.

“You caught me,” Meg smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw.

Thinking back, even then, Meg had known it was a big mistake skipping out on her responsibilities like she had. And she really wasn't proud of herself when the bowlegged man with stunning green eyes had chased her down. But as she had sat in the back of his Impala, her hands cuffed behind her, listening to him sing-a-long to the complete Led Zeppelin anthology she wondered what his life was like. Why would he become a bounty hunter? What did his wife or girlfriend think of his career choice? She even caught herself having a little fantasy when they had to stop for the night and he cuffed her to the bed beside him.

She hadn't expected to see him again when he handed her over to custody. But twelve months later when she was released and asked for a cab she was told there was no point as she had a ride waiting.

It was cheesy, honestly, to see Dean standing there in the parking lot, leaning against his sleek black car. A modern day Jake Ryan. And even to this day, Meg gives him a hard time for his chick flick moment.

The vibration of Dean's laugh jolted through Meg, bringing her back to the present where a few of Dean's friends had stepped away from the campfire to come sit by them.

The rest of the night was met with stories around the campfire, s'mores, drunken sing-a-longs, and for Meg and Dean, passionate love-making in their tent.

#spnrareshipcc #meg/dean #waywarddream #Rated teen and up #fan fiction #also on ao3 #my writing #and on wattpad

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draftingtides · 6 years

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Jukebox in the Corner

SPN Rare Ship CC: Round 19 | otrera-kicks-ass vs. @mariaghost

Prompt: Black Dog

Ship: Sam/Gabriel/Rowena

Word Count: 326

Warnings: N/A

Summary: Sam, Gabriel, and Rowena dance in a diner.

AO3

This, right here, this was heaven. Sitting in a diner booth with Cas, Gabe, and Rowena, sipping chocolate shakes, while Dean messed around with the jukebox in the corner.

Gabriel’s eyes lit up as the jukebox started playing Led Zeppelin’s Black Dog. “Hey, Sammy, dance with me!”

“No way.”

Gabriel pouted. “You’re so boring.” He grabbed Rowena’s hand and dragged her out of the booth toward a small dance floor near the jukebox. “C’mon, dollface, dance with me!”

Rowena rolled her eyes and pretended to be reluctant about it, but Sam could tell by the shine in her eyes that she was having fun.

Gabriel was, without a doubt, the worst dancer Sam had ever met. He didn’t dance to the beat of the song, and he stepped on Rowena’s feet. He was enjoying himself, though. At one point, he dipped Rowena, and the diner’s few customers laughed and clapped.

Dean slid back into the booth, next to Cas. “God, you’re so gross.”

Sam turned his head away from Gabe and Rowena to look at him. “Huh?”

Dean gestured vaguely at Sam’s face. “You’re all lovesick and shit. You look like a puppy.”

Sam flushed. “Shut up, jerk.”

“Go dance with your fuckbuddies, bitch.”

“They’re my partners, not my fuckbuddies,” Sam said, but got up to join them nevertheless.

All I ask for all I pray/Steady rollin' woman gon' come my way, sang the jukebox.

Gabriel let go of Rowena and hip-checked Sam. “Whaddaya say, Sammy? You a steady rollin’ woman?”

Sam grinned and pecked him on the lips. “I’d say so.”

Gabriel smiled at Rowena over his shoulder. “Looks like we’re in luck, babe.”

Rowena kissed Sam’s cheek. “Indeed we are.”

They danced until the end of that song and all through the next one, too.

This, right here, this was heaven. Dancing in a diner with Gabriel and Rowena, Cas and Dean watching and sipping shakes, while a jukebox played in the corner.

#spnrareshipcc #sabrena #mariaghost #otrerawrites #sabriel #samwena

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hannah-deserved-better · 5 years

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Castiel’s Happiness

SPN Rare ship CC: round 24 @hannah-deserved-better Vs. @rarquette

Prompt: Massage oils

Ship: Castiel and Hannah

Word count: 1633

Tags: Medium smut

Summary: Hannah and Castiel explore what happiness can truly feel like.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15539439/chapters/41555777

“Are you feeling better now?” Castiel asked as Hannah relaxed in the bathtub, the steam coming off the water she was submerged in. She opened her eyes, tilting her head slightly to look at him. She nodded.

“Yes,” she said softly. He smiled feeling relieved. Having to carry her in after she’d fallen into a frozen lake, and hurrying to warm her had him shaken. But everything would be okay now. He moved to stand up, but she reached out a hand to stop him. “Where are you going?” she asked.

“I thought you would want privacy in here,” he replied. He blushed slightly at the fact that he had had to undress her because she had been too cold to do anything except shiver. Now she was lying naked in a tub in front of him and with the danger past, he was now more aware of that fact than before.

“I’d like you to stay,” she insisted, gazing up at him with wide soulful eyes. “If… that’s considered appropriate.”

Castiel shrugged as he settled down on the carpet beside the bathtub. “Well I’m not sure how appropriate it is,” he admitted. “But I often find myself baffled by the things humans find appropriate and the things that they don’t.”

“Humans are strange, frail things,” Hannah commented as she held her arms out in front of her, looking them over as her skin glistened with moisture. “The sensations my vessel’s body gave me when I fell into the lake, how quickly I began to lose control of my own motor functions. And now, the hot water feels soothing.”

“Does it?” Castiel glanced at her. He watched as she seemed to observe the motions of her own body as if exploring all of its functions for the first time. “I suppose I felt the same when I first took a human vessel.”

Her eyes roamed over the surface of the water and fell on a basket of bath supplies resting on the far edge of the tub. “What are those?” she wanted to know, glancing at Castiel for an explanation.

He grabbed the basket and sorted through it. “I believe they are meant to enhance the bathing experience,” he explained as he examined each bottle. “Many of these liquids and creams have a pleasing scent to them.” He pulled one out that he found particularly curious. “This one is a massage oil; it is rubbed into your skin to promote relaxation and tranquility. It is scented with roses and vanilla.” He handed the bottle to her, and she popped the lid, sniffing it curiously.

“I like this aroma,” she said, handing it back to him. “How do I use it?”

“Here, let me show you,” Castiel offered. He perched himself on the edge of the tub and slipped a hand into the water to grab her leg, gently guiding it out so that her foot rested on his lap. She watched him intently as he poured some of the oil onto his hand and began massaging her foot.

She let out a sigh as she leaned back, closing her eyes. The look of pure bliss on her face encouraged Castiel as he massaged her foot deeply, rubbing every inch of it with both hands.

“I like this,” she murmured softly as she breathed out, savoring the feeling. “This feeling…”

Castiel found himself caught up in the motion, the feeling of her leg in his lap, holding her like this, it was a very new feeling for him too. For a moment, the room seemed to fade away, and he focused solely on the way her skin felt, the soft scent of the oil, the sounds of the water splashing gently whenever she moved.

Lost in the moment, Castiel closed his eyes, pressing a kiss to the top of her foot. The action prompted an immediate reaction from Hannah and when she withdrew her leg from his lap, he glanced at her, worried he had upset her, but instead, she sat up, the water sloshing as she moved closer to him until she was sitting in front of him, her skin wet as she met his gaze, her eyes big and sensual.

“I think I would like to explore these… sensations further,” she said, her voice low and alluring. He didn’t say anything at first, just stared at her face, committing every molecule to memory as he brushed a strand of wet hair from her eyes, the movement prompting her to lean into him further.

He pressed his lips to hers softly, tenderly as he held a hand to her face. The feeling of electricity through his body as their lips met had him hypnotized. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the kiss.

He pushed away from her if only to hold her face in both of his hands and stared intensely into her eyes as the feelings circulated through his body. He felt hot, turbulent, the look of desire in her eyes beckoning him. “Do you want this?” he asked her, it was necessary to him that she understood and accepted where this would lead. She nodded without hesitation.

“I’ve never… had these sensations before,” she said softly. “And… I think…” she seemed to consider her answer. “I think I love you, Castiel.”

“You think?” he asked in a teasing tone before kissing her again, deeper, with a passion he never knew he possessed. She matched his intensity, her breath on his mouth causing ripples of electricity through him.

After a moment, he got to his feet. “Dry off and come join me,” he insisted. “I have an idea.” She nodded, her eyes following him with curiosity as he stood and hurried out of the bathroom.

The main room of their little cabin was cozy. There was a fireplace and a large queen sized bed, and while the wind howled outside and the snow piled up in the windows, the temperature inside was warm and pleasant. Castiel got to work, placing the candles in strategic places before dimming the lights and getting undressed. He put on his blue bathrobe, and he set his phone to emit pleasant piano music. Everything seemed perfect.

Of course, he had a little help by consulting ‘the google,’ but he was sure he had paid attention to every detail. He made sure the crackling of the roaring fire in the fireplace added to the warmth and light of the room.

When Hannah finally emerged from the bathroom, she was wrapped in a towel and holding the bottle of massage oils. “Could we use more of this?” she asked before noticing the soft ambiance around her.

“Yes,” he said as she moved over to him. Meeting her gaze, he pulled her against him, taking her into his arms and kissing her. She seemed to melt in his arms, her muscles instantly relaxing as the towel fell from her body.

Hoisting her onto the bed, he went to work with the massage oil. He made it a point to massage every inch of her body, rubbing and massaging with body hands from her feet to her legs and up and down her back and torso, taking extra care not to miss the more sensitive regions.

The sighs and soft whimpers that told him she was enjoying everything he did encouraged him, and when he eased himself under the blankets, she suddenly held up a hand for him to stop.

“Wait,” she said before sitting up and gently pressing her palms to his chest, prompting him to lay back, the back of his head sinking into the pillows as he propped himself to a slight incline. Then she eased herself onto him.

Castiel was met with those big cerulean eyes again as she peered down into his gaze, her hair spilling out around them. He held her to him, his hands resting gently on the base of her shoulder blades as she slowly settled into him.

The angel had never felt these sorts of sensations before. They went far beyond the physical as he held Hannah’s body to him, the motions of her hips and thighs moving against his in a slow, rhythmic motion, he found himself transfixed on her eyes and hers on his. The sweet scent of rose and vanilla on her skin, the look of passionate desire and pleasure in those blue orbs, the soft gasps and moans falling from her lips, the movement of her body against his, it suddenly occurred to him that this could be his happiness.

“Hannah…” he murmured as he gave over complete control to her. She only responded by letting out a surprised groan as he felt her clench down around him. Quickly, he flipped her over, pressing himself deep into her body as she sunk into the pillow, her eyes fluttering shut.

“Castiel…” she breathed, a breath hitched in her throat as she whimpered, savoring the release of pleasure. The look of bliss on her face was enough to drive him to release as he pressed his face against the softness of her shoulder and breast. For a moment, they both seemed to phase out of time and space, the intensity of the release of pleasure clouding through their minds.

When the feeling had finally dissipated, and Castiel held Hannah tightly in his arms, needing to feel her close, he realized he had truly found his happiness. This angel woman- one of the few of his own kind that ever showed him kindness- was now his lover.

“I love you,” he said as he pressed a kiss to her head. “Forever.”

#spnrareshipcc #Castiel/Hannah #rarquette #massage oils #angel fic

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andromytta · 6 years

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All Your Life

SPN Rare Ship CC: Round 23 | andromytta vs. @ladylilithprime

Prompt: Apple Pie

Ship: Claire Novak/Kevin Tran

Word Count: 2441

Tags/Warnings:

Nerd Claire

Punk Kevin

Family Drama

Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags

SPN Rare Ships Creation Challenge

Thanksgiving Dinner

Apple Pie

Demisexual Claire Novak

Summary: Claire finally brings Kevin home for family dinner. But it can't just be any family dinner, no, it has to be Thanksgiving dinner. With her ENTIRE FAMILY present. Oh, and her dads still hate him....

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16651645 (Part 3 of the Never Let You Go series)

Kevin lounged on Krissy’s bed watching Claire pack for her Thanksgiving trip home. He had offered to help her multiple times, and each time she responded with “You’ll just do it wrong.” So, he resigned himself to thumbing through magazines on her roommate’s unmade bed, skimming the articles and sex tips and sniffing every perfume ad. It was Wednesday, and Claire had just finished her last class before Fall Break.

“You’ll be back here on Monday, right?” he asked.

“Mmhmm…”

“And your folks live less than an hour away, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Then why do you need so many bags?” Kevin asked with a chuckle. So far, Claire had three bags packed and was working on her fourth.

“Well, this one has all my books,” she said as she pointed to the oversized wheeled backpack. “This one has my computer and my camera equipment.” That one was a medium sized hard case with wheels, plastered with stickers. “These other two are for my clothes and, you know, girlie products.”

“Wait, so you’re on vacation and you’re still going to be doing homework?”

“Well, duh.”

“Ok, ok,” Kevin said with a chuckle. “You do you. But you know,” Kevin said brightly, “try to relax a little.”

“Oh yeah, like that’s even possible.” Claire said, rolling her eyes. “What about you? Can you relax? Are you even ready to meet my family tomorrow? I mean, like, my whole family?”

“Yeah, Babe. I’m actually fine. I mean, I already know your grandmother and your aunts, and they love me. So what do I have to worry about?”

Claire rolled her eyes again. “Oh, I don’t know. Only that my dads basically hate you already, and if Jack doesn’t like you, well, then all bets are off. I mean, if my twin can’t stand you , then there’s not anything I can do about it. And then there’s Alex. She hates everyone.” Claire started pacing and her voice got faster and higher pitched the more she talked.

Kevin grabbed her forearms and stopped her pacing in the middle of the room. “Shhh. Chill out. It will be ok. Your siblings will love me. I mean, I am pretty awesome. And I have no doubt Ellen will make sure your dads remain civil during Thanksgiving dinner.”

Claire actually laughed at that. “That’s true. My gramma can be pretty scary when she wants to be.”

About an hour later, Kevin was dropping Claire off in front of her parents’ house. “You and Krissy and Joss will be here on time, tomorrow, right? Don’t be late.”

“I know, I know. High noon. Sharp.” Kevin said with fond exasperation. They had been over this dozens of times already. “Our watches are synchronized and I have my super secret decoder ring.”

“And bring your guitar,” Claire continued. Kevin wasn’t sure if she heard his snark in the midst of her panicking. “Jack will want to play. Dad won’t let him touch his ever since he got jelly on it…” she trailed off, though still mumbling to herself as she pulled her luggage out of the backseat.

“Yes, Claire, I know. Now go, see your family. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Kevin kissed her on the cheek before leaving her, and her bags, in the driveway. Hey, he offered to help, but she’d steadfastly refused.

Claire wrestled her bags to the front door and was just trying to dig her key out of her purse when the door flung open. Jack was standing there with a huge smile on his face.

“Claire! You’re home!” He engulfed her in a big hug, grabbed her bags, and ushered her inside. “Alex! Dads! Claire is home!” He didn’t really need to shout, because they were all gathered in the living room already.

Alex looked up from where she was lounging on the couch. “Hi.” She returned to her phone after that affectionate greeting.

“You’ve been out of class for three hours. What took you so long?” Castiel asked. “I hope you brought your midterm project with you.”

“Geez, Cas. You’re on vacation. Can’t you give ‘Professor Novak’ the day off?” Dean said, smoothing his hand down his husband’s arm and grabbing his elbow, giving him a gentle shake before greeting Claire with a hug. “Welcome home, Kiddo.”

“Hi, Dad.” Claire returned the hug affectionately, their previous fighting long but forgotten.

“Ok, now go upstairs and get cleaned up. We have pies to make.”

“Awesome. Is Gramma coming over tonight?”

“Yeah,” Dean answered. “She’s coming over tonight to help with the cooking. Cas is picking up Sam and Jess and Gabe and Kali at the airport tonight, so Jess and Gabe will also be here to help. Jess said she’sreally excited to learn Mom’s stuffing recipe. Then Grampa, Jo and Charlie will be here tomorrow. I’m assuming your new ‘friend’ will be here then?”

Claire nodded, hearing the finger quotes in her dad’s voice.

“And I assume your therapist is coming too?”

Claire rolled her eyes. “Da-ad. Krissy is not my therapist. But yes, she’s coming and bringing her girlfriend too, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

A couple of hours later, Claire was pressing pie crust into her fifth pie tin, covered in flour up to her elbows, when the door opened and Ellen Harvelle-Singer walked in. “Gramma!” Claire exclaimed, running to give the woman a big, flour coated hug.

“Hey, baby,” Ellen said, smoothing Claire’s wild blond hair.

Dean came out of the kitchen just behind his daughter. “Hey Mom,” he said, wrapping both women in a hug.

Ellen looked at Claire. “Well, didja tell him?”

“Tell me what?” Dean asked.

“Guess not.” Ellen said. Changing the subject, she asked, “So where’s my dreamy son-in-law and my other two grandbabies?”

“Cas and Jack went to pick up the rest of the family at the airport, and Alex is up in her room. She cut herself peeling apples for Claire, and wouldn’t let me help her. She insisted on waiting until you got here. Apparently, you fix cuts better than me,” Dean pouted at his mother.

“Well, then, let me go take care of that,” Ellen said before turning pointedly to Claire.

“While I’m gone, you tell him, got it?” No one defied the matriarch of the family for very long.

“Yes, ma’am,” Claire gulped, and she sheepishly made her way back to the kitchen and forced herself to concentrate extra hard on her pie crust. Dean just stood in front of her with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Well?” he said with a lifted eyebrow.

Never looking up from her pie crust, she said in a single rushed breath, “So, you know that band that played at the Roadhouse, the punk band that did a cover of ‘Stairway to Heaven’ that you hated, and you really don’t like how Gramma hired him as the music manager there, even though he’s really good and the bar’s profits are up, but you just generally really hate that guy for no actual reason?”

Dean stared at his kid for a long moment before simply barking, “Yeah.”

Claire finally looked up from her pie, her blue eyes locking with Dean’s green. “Well, that’s Kevin. My Kevin.”

“Wha-What?” Dean spluttered. “But-but you said he was in band not A band.”

“No, I said he was in a band. And I was ready to bring him home for dinner, until Aunt Jo told me what you said!” Claire stashed her last pie crust in the freezer, slamming the door to emphasize her point.

Dean dropped heavily into a chair at the kitchen table. Now, Claire’s actions made sense. They’d been fighting for months over this very issue. And it was all his fault. He scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck, feeling chagrined. “So, that’s why you haven’t been home for family dinner?”

“Well…..yeah,” Claire said as she started removing the peeled apples from the cinnamon and ginger infused water they were resting in. That was her secret, why she made her family’s signature apple pie better than Dean, and even better than Ellen. She began chopping as she was talking. “I mean, it’s not exactly encouraging to bring your boyfriend home to meet the parents, when you already know the parents hate him.”

“Oh, come on, Claire! You know that’s not what I meant. Just because I hate the way he performed, doesn’t mean I hate him. I don’t even know him.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not exactly the poster boy for easy going paternal figures, particularly if it comes to your beloved Led Zeppelin. Who I still think are overrated anyway.” Claire said sassily as she continued to chop.

“Like you’re any different. Just let someone butcher a Beatles’ song,” Dean retorted lamely. He had a note of pride in his voice he couldn’t conceal.

Claire shrugged, a small smile tugging at her mouth “Well, I am your daughter.”

Dean got up from the kitchen table and moved to one of the bar stools in front of the counter where Claire was chopping. “So, tell me about him. Clearly there must be more to him than the butchering of perfectly good classic rock.”

Claire’s soft smile widened just slightly. “Well, his rendition of ‘Blackbird’ is the best I’ve ever heard.”

Dean looked mildly surprised. “That’s saying a lot.”

“Dad, he’s enormously talented. Just because you’re too old to get his style of music doesn’t make it bad.”

“Your face is old.”

Claire raised an eyebrow at him. “Nice comeback, there, Pops. If my face is old, what does that make your face?”

“Shut up,” Dean retorted with a smile of his own. “So, go on, tell me more.”

“You literally just told me to shut up.”

“You know what I mean.”

Claire stuck her tongue out at him, but continued talking. “Kevin is really great. He plays six instruments.” Dean made a “huh” face at that. “He has a degree in music theory from Princeton. Did you know that because of his help, the Roadhouse has become one of the top college bars in the city?”

“Please, your grams and Jo could have done that.”

“No, Dad. Kevin is the one who hooked them up with the up and coming bands in the area. There’s more to music than just cover bands for mullet rock, you know.”

“Hey, I like those bands. And they don’t all have mullets.”

“Yes, but you’re not a twenty something college student with miles of disposable income,” Claire said cheekily. “Your bands still play there; just other bands play there too. Gramma put him in charge of this summer’s Battle of the Bands. It will be epic.”

“You know, I don’t know how I feel about my kid sister meeting your boyfriend before me.”

“Hey, it’s not like that was planned. They didn’t even know we were dating when they hired him. It was only after he and Jo got to talking and that’s how she found out. Then she called me and told me what you said about him.” Claire dropped her eyes back to the cutting board. She’d been making this pie for so many years that the chopping came naturally to her and she hardly had to watch what she was doing, but she found she couldn’t look into her dad’s eyes anymore.

Dean reached across the count and stilled her hands. “Hey, hey, Claire-bear, I’m sorry I said that. Well, I’m sorry I said it like that. If I had known he was important to you…well, I was drunk so I probably still would have said it.”

“Wow, Dad, you suck at apologizing.” Claire smiled weakly.

“Well, I’m sorry, but your boyfriend’s music does suck.” She glared at him. “To me,” he added. “But I won’t let that affect my judgement of him as a person. But if he turns out to be an asshole and he hurts you, I’ll just beat him up extra hard.”

“He’s got a black belt in three martial arts, Dad, I doubt you could take him.”

Dean took her hands and looked her in the eye. “Seriously, though, Claire, what kind of guy is he? He’s not pressuring you into anything, right?” That was a problem in her last relationship. Her ex-girlfriend’s addictive personality lead to her wanting to do things that Claire was uncomfortable with.

“Dad, he’s a really, really great guy. He knows and respects my limits, sometimes even better than I do.” Claire blushed and ducked her head down. “He, well, um, Kevin, he might be the one, Dad.” Dean’s eyes lit up with happiness. But before he could say anything, Claire added, “But don’t you dare start planning a wedding. We are nowhere near that yet!” His face fell comically fast.

Just then, Ellen and Alex emerged from upstairs. “Well, I got her all patched up, and she’s graciously decided to socialize with the rest of her family,” Ellen said as they came into the kitchen.

“Well, I wouldn’t say I decided so much as she’s making me,” Alex grumped. Ellen smacked the back of her head. “Ow!”

“Hey, it’s not like we’re asking you help with cooking in any way. Just keep us company. It’s not like you see me or your sister every day,” Ellen scolded her.

“Yeah, please don’t help us cook,” Claire teased as she tossed her apples into the skillet. She then turned to her grandmother. “Before you ask, yes, I told him.”

Ellen turned to Dean, “And you’ll be on your best behavior and give this boy a chance, right, son?”

“Yeah, Mom. He sounds like a good kid,” Dean said.

“Hey, he really is a good kid. Even your pop likes him, despite his weird hair.” Ellen said.

“Well, if Dad likes him, then I guess he must be ok.” Dean agreed. Bobby Singer pretty much hated everyone who wasn’t family, and sometimes he didn’t like them much either.

They didn’t have a chance to discuss it further, because just then the front door swung open and the rest of the family came piling in. Gabriel and Jessica were already arguing over who cooked what better, Cas and Kali were having a heated discussion about politics, and Sam was telling Jack something no one but them could hear, Jack hanging on his favorite uncle’s every word.

The Winchester-Novak-Harvelle-Singer Thanksgiving was certainly going to be interesting this year. But there was at least one thing Claire could definitely count on: Every single one of her apple pies would be devoured before the end of the day. The rest, as usual, would be a toss-up with her large and unpredictable family.

Poor Kevin.

#spn rare ship cc #spnrareshipcc #ladylilithprime #Claire Novak/Kevin Tran #apple pie #thanksgiving dinner #dad dean

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