Important: This is the 4th last fic of the year! I’ll be taking the last half of December and first half of January off from posting. I’ll be back January 17th, 2025 with the first story of the new year!
Written: 24.10.31
Words: 533
General, C2C (ish)
Crowley sighed into his hand as he watched the demon before him go on and on…
And on.
It was never ending trivial management bullshit!
This demon wants to eat this many babies, but this demon stole from his supply, the Hellhounds are restless with only 4 runs a day, crossroad deals took a dip this month… who gives a fuck?
Sure, clawing his way to the top was exciting. New baddies to beat, demons to win over, cunning double-crossing plans to enact, but now? Now he just sat on the throne, listening to all of Hell’s ‘problems’. And then he’d fix them.
Last night started out like any other: hitting a bar to blow off some steam, chatting up the redhead – nothing out of the ordinary. At least, not until she mentioned something about ‘living a little’ and ordering a round of Jell-O shots.
And then another.
And another.
And another.
Dean didn’t know what the hell the bar used – it tasted like straight gasoline mixed with that obviously fake strawberry flavour – but he got buzzed fast and reached hammered not too long after.
The rest of the night was a nauseating blurry flash of laughs, spilled drinks, a shared cab ride and then some R rated fun.
The blonde had awoke to a dark room, his pants dangling off the ceiling fan and his companion was nowhere in sight. The perfect time to sneak out without having to have that awkward morning-after talk.
The elevator bumped then, causing a new wave of nausea to hit the blonde, oh no… He caught himself with one hand against the wall and instinctively leaned over, don’t barf in the elevator…don’t barf in the elevator…
He barely heard the ding of the doors opening over the sound of his dry-heave.
Ugh.
“Um,” A man’s voice got his watery eyes off the floor. The short man looked as dishevelled as he felt, and flashed a fake polite smile, “Maybe I’ll wait for the next one.”
“No, no,” Dean straightened up and cleared his throat, moving to stand closer to the wall, “I’m not gonna puke.”
The stranger gave him a once over before hesitantly stepping into the car, “You’re lucky I’m too hungover for more stairs.”
Dean chuckled and backed up as the guy leaned over to hit the button, “Rough night?”
“Fun night. The guy I was with…”
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The plan was simple: dig up the body, salt and burn the bones, and then everyone’s’ home in time to watch Doctor Sexy. That was it. A hunt so easy they could’ve done it in their sleep. A milk run.
Dean should’ve known it wasn’t going to be that simple. When were the simple ones ever actually simple? He was suspicious of it ever since they got wind of the hunt a week ago. For one thing, they found all the information about it almost too easily – as if someone was spoon-feeding it to them. And when they got to the abandoned house on the edge of the town? You could practically cut the sense of dread that hung in the air with a knife.
Yep, it was a hunt that had all the markings of going so completely, horribly wrong, and yet… they went anyway. “It’ll be fine,”Sam had stated for the millionth time, “how often have we done a salt and burn? It’ll be five minutes, tops. Probably won’t even have to turn off the car.”
Oh boy, how wrong that was.
That’s how Dean found himself here, tied to a post in the aforementioned abandoned house, monster setting up for whatever crazy ritual it was gearing up for a few feet in front of him, and Sam…
Well to be honest, he wasn’t entirely sure where his brother was. But he wasn’t tied up next to him, and that couldn’t have been a good sign.
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Okay, Winchester, keep it together. Dean hurried around the motel room, ripping the newspaper clippings and thumb tacks off the wall. He shoved them into a large garbage bag as he flicked his eyes up to the clock on the wall, damn it.
Lydia was going to be there with the twins any second and the place was not rid of all hunting materials yet. Dean sped up his cleaning of the walls, kicking his duffle of weapons under the bed as he passed.
After that disaster of a picnic last summer he was sure they were never going to let him see the kids again. He had no idea how, but Cas had managed to convince Lydia – and the rest of Child Services – to give him another chance. So he’d been re-granted supervised visitation.
Lydia made it abundantly clear that this was the very last chance he was going to get. If he fucked it up, they would take the kids away – from both him and Cas – some bullshit about Cas enabling his detrimental effect on them – so Dean had been on his absolute best behaviour. No hunting stories, no weapons, hell, he even got Taylor to stop calling chocolate covered peanuts ‘bullets’. Albeit temporarily.
He was not going to blow this.
He had finally managed to work his way back up to this hopefully being the last supervised visit. If all went well today, he’d be allowed to see the kids without a chaperone. He had the place all ready two days ago – everything that could be considered hunting paraphernalia had been expertly hidden and stashed in the secret compartment of the trunk.
And then a Wendigo popped up.
Dean thought he’d have plenty of time to find it and light the bastard up before the visit, but unfortunately, because it was still January, this one was mostly still hibernating, which was making him hard to track. Every time Dean got close enough to even sniff a trail, it’d go cold.
The knock at the door made the hunter jump, “Uh, just a second!” He quickly shoved the garbage bag under the bed next to the duffle and gave the room one more once over as he made his way over to the door. He nodded to himself before taking in a deep breath as he opened it, “Hi guys!”
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“Ah,” Dean let out a content sigh as he watched the flames on the pyre in front of them flicker against the dark sky.
Sam snorted and shook his head, “Only you could be happy watching a body burn.”
“Pfft, please,” The blonde waved a dismissive hand before making the short trip over to the car, opening the backseat door, “how could you not be happy knowing there’s one less Wendigo running around?”
“I still think it’s weird you built a pyre for it.”
“Oh, sure,” Dean rolled his eyes as he leaned forward, digging the cooler off the floor, “next time I’ll just let the forest catch on fire.”
Dean sidled up to the bar, sliding his arm onto the wood as he plopped himself down on the closest stool, “Can I get a beer?”
The bartender raised her eyebrows but nodded at the request. After spinning around to grab a whiskey bottle, she placed two shot glasses in front of the blonde. At his questioning look, she gave a half-shrug, “You look like you needed something stronger.”
He let out a small chuckle at that and reached for the first shot, “You may be right about that.”
He tossed it back, hissing as he swallowed before turning the glass upside down. She pushed the second glass forward before placing the bottle down, resting her one hand on the bar, “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“You gonna tell me what’s got you so…” She let her voice trail off as she gave him a purposeful once over.
Dean shook his head as he reached for the second shot, “You wouldn’t believe me.”
She raised an eyebrow at that before flipping the first glass over to refill, “I doubt it. I’ve seen some crap that would make most people run screaming.”
“Yeah, well I’m not most people.”
“No?” The corner of her mouth turned up as she slid the freshly filled shot glass back over, “Tell you what. I’ll keep refilling your shots – for free – if you tell me what’s got you so bummed.”
Dean caught the glass, finally giving the redhead a once over, before his signature thousand-watt smile lit up his features, “Deal.”
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This is the 3rd and final fic in the 3-part mini series for this year.
“Sam!” Dean fired off a rock-salt round as he booked it as fast as he could to the entrance of the graveyard backward, “anytime now!”
The youngest Winchester suppressed his eye roll as he struck yet another match, huffing in annoyance as it didn’t light, “None of these matches are lighting!”
The blonde’s eyes moved between the large group of ghosts that were quickly surrounding him and his brother, who was somehow still standing over the grave they dug up, “Use the lighter!”
“I didn’t bring one!”
“You didn’t bring one?” Dean fired off another shot, bringing confused eyes to the brunette, “You’re joking, right?”
The giant tossed up his hands in exasperation before throwing another unlit match into the grave, “Just hold on! I can get this!”
“Yeah,” Dean was quickly being cornered into one side of the fence, gun dangerously low, “that might not be an option.”
Sam groaned as he struck the last match in the box, tossing the useless stick into the grave before grabbing his gun, “Fine! Let’s go.”
Dean did his best to hold back his eye roll as his brother sprinted toward him. He cleared as much of the ghost group between them as he could before his ammo ran out. Luckily, the giant wasn’t totally useless and cleared enough of the rest of them to allow the blonde to make a break for the entrance.
The giant was close on his heels, firing off shot after shot as the brother’s raced toward the car. As the car came into view, Dean felt himself relax slightly, we’re gonna make it!
“Shit,” The curse and the click of an empty gun from behind him dashed the eldest’s hopes almost as soon as they’d come on, of course.
They were maybe three feet from the car when they had to pull out the to-go salt packets Dean had grabbed from the diner earlier that day, thank God for that distracted waitress.
Sam’s leg was bouncing as the blonde struggled to rip one of the packs open, ghost hoard closing back in, “Is there even enough in there to make a difference?”
Dean groaned, bringing a pack up to his teeth, “It’s gonna have to be.”
He tossed some packets at the giant just as he managed to rip the corner of the one in his mouth, aha! He tossed the packet toward one of the closer ghosts, face falling as the packet hit the ground, no salt spilling out.
Dean let out an annoyed groan as they continued backing toward the car, “Is anything gonna go right today?”
Sam got his packets open, pouring the salt out into his hand before attempting to throw it. A few grains flew off his hand, most sticking to the sweat in his palm. He let out an annoyed huff and wiped it onto his pants, flicking his eyes over to his brother, “Now what?”
“We run for it.”
“Seriously?”
“Uh, yeah,” He took a chance to look back at the car before turning back to the growing angry ghosts, “the car’s close enough, we should make it.”
Sam snorted, “Should?”
The brother’s exchanged a look before turning around and booking it as fast as their legs would carry them toward their home on wheels.
Dean reached the car first, nearly sliding off balance as he tugged the passenger seat door open. He jumped through, sliding himself across the bench seat to the driver’s side of the car, just as Sam came jumping in after him.
The blonde wasted no time shoving the key into the ignition, car roaring to life. Sam barely got the door closed before he was tossed into the dashboard with the force of them peeling out of the graveyard.
They got a few miles down the road before either brother let out a breath of relief.
Dean ran a hand through his hair as he attempted to calm his heartbeat, “Told you we’d make it.”
Sam let out a humourless chuckle at that, “Yeah, right.” His brows furrowed in confusion as his brother turned left down the road, “Uh, dude where are you going? Grandview’s the other way.”
Dean flicked his eyes over to his brother, “And why would we go back to Grandview?”
“Because we left Melinda standing in a- watch out!”
The hunter cut himself off as a blinding white light opened up in the road ahead of them.
“Shit!” Dean stomped on the brakes as they went sailing into it, sound of squealing tires filling the air.
The light subsided just in time for the boys to watch themselves crash into an expensive looking table as the car came to a stop. The brother’s exchanged a look as they took in their new surroundings. It looked as though they were in some sort of workshop.
“Uh…” Dean flicked his eyes to the roof of the car, “Cas? This isn’t the bunker’s garage.”
“I don’t think this was Cas.” Sam’s brows were furrowed as he took in the room, “This place does look familiar, though…”
“I’ve never seen it.” Dean turned the car off, sitting back in his seat, “Should we be fighting or…?”
Sam shook his head, “I don’t think so.”
“Sam!” Dean scrubbed a hand down his face as his brother got out of the car, sorry Melinda. He climbed out of the car a moment later, taking in the knocked over table, shattered computer screen and various shards of glass, wide glass panel walls to the left, and a man who seemed to be sleeping on the lone couch, his back facing them.
Dean bumped his brother’s arm, nodding toward him, “How the hell did he sleep through that?”
Sam turned to the couch and shrugged, “Maybe he’s dead?”
“Great,” The blonde rolled his eyes, moving a few steps further into the workshop, “That’s just what we need, more dead people.”
He shook his head as his eyes roamed over the rest of the space. He couldn’t help but let out a loud whistle as his eyes landed on a long row of classic cars lined against the opposite wall, “Damn, how did I miss that?”
“Dean.”
The blonde waved off his brother’s warning tone, “Relax, Sammy, I’m just looking.”
“Uh-huh.” Sam didn’t feel convinced, but shifted his focus from his brother to the man on the couch, anyway. He walked a few steps closer, craning his neck in a failed attempt to see the man’s face. “Do you think I should-”
A loud alarm started blaring then, effectively cutting off the end of the giant’s sentence.
He jumped at the sudden noise, eyes quickly locating his brother, who was two feet away from one of the red cars, guilt all over his face, “What the hell did you touch?”
The blonde held his hands up in mock surrender as security gates started lowering over all the windows and doors, “Nothing, I swear!”
“Well clearly you did something!” Sam rolled his eyes, waving for the blonde to join him back over by the car, “You’re such a child!”
This is the 2nd fic of a semi-connected 3 fic crossover mini series. The first fic of this series is Rainbow Road
“What’d he say?”
Melinda jumped at the sudden voice beside her. She turned to her passenger seat, somewhat calming as she saw it was the ghost. She rolled her eyes and hopped out of her car, “If you didn’t disappear, you could’ve heard.”
“I didn’t mean to,” The ghost appeared on her porch, “I wanted to see him, but I-” the ghost flickered where he stood. His brows furrowed as he looked down to his flickering form, “I don’t understand.”
“It’s alright,” Melinda made her way toward the porch, stopping when she reached the steps. She gave the ghost a once over – now he was appearing clearly, and not covered head to toe in mud, she saw he was no more than sixteen, had dirty blonde hair, and was easily taller than Jim. She couldn’t help the stab her heart felt at his fallen face. “It can take time to learn how to appear.”
“I’m not ready,” The ghost shook his head, bringing scared eyes up from the ground to her face.
“I-I know this must be hard.” She shifted where she stood, taking a small step closer, “I can go back tomorrow. You can come with me, and maybe we can-”
“No!” The ghost’s outburst made her jump. His eyes turned angry, and he took a charged step toward her, “I’m not ready! I’m not-”
Bang!
Melinda screamed and ducked as she heard a gunshot. Staying crouched, she looked around wildly, seeing two men running toward her with shotguns. Oh my God! She hurried up her porch steps, shaking hands trying to unlock her door.
“Hey!”
She got the door unlocked just as they reached her porch. She slid inside the door, slamming it closed behind her, locking it before she ran up her stairs, speed-dialling Jim.
“Hey, Mel, I was just about to call you. Turns out Tom wasn’t actually sick, so I’m-”
“Jim!” Melinda couldn’t help the tears that sprang to her eyes as she booked it into their bedroom, pulling the closet door closed.
“What happened?”
“I-I was…” She sniffed loudly, forcing herself to take a deep breath so she could get the words out, “T-they… they tried to shoot me!”
“I’m ten minutes away.” Even through the phone, she could hear the sound of Jim’s truck speed up, “Get somewhere safe and hide.”
“I-I’m in our closet.” She could hear loud banging floating up the stairs, “I think they’re trying to break in.”
“Okay, good. Stay in the closet and call the police.”
“No!” Melinda swiped with her free hand at the tears running down her face, “D-don’t hang up.”
“Mel-”
“Jim, please.” She lowered her voice as she heard the front door bang open, “Oh my God.”
“Mel? What is it? What happened?”
“You can’t stay here.”
“Oh!” Melinda turned around in the small space, breath quickening as she was nose to nose with the ghost, “What are you talking about?”
“You’re not safe here.” The ghost opened the closet doors, stepping out into the room, “You need to run.”
“Mel?”
Melinda took a cautious step out of the closet, “Run where?”
“No, Mel, stay in the closet. I’m almost there.”
The ghost pointed to the bedroom window. She took a cautious step toward it, slightly lowering the phone from her ear as her eyes drifted to the open bedroom door.
She turned back to the ghost, shaking her head as the sounds of the men stomping through the first floor floated up, “You want me to jump?”
“Better hurry.”
The creak of someone standing on the bottom step was all the incentive Melinda needed. She dropped the phone and rushed to the window, undoing the latch, before pushing it open.
It swung out, cool night air blowing in as her eyes searched the side of the house for something she could climb down on. She suddenly felt stupid for making sure Jim put the ladder back in the garage after he finished cleaning out the gutters yesterday.
She shook her head, turning back to the ghost, “I-I won’t make it.”
“There you are!”
The voice from the doorway made her jump, eyes widening with fright as she spotted a tall man in plaid pointing a shotgun at her. Her chin trembled as she raised her hands, “P-please, don’t-”
Bang!
Another shot rang out, making her duck behind the bed. She did a quick pat down of herself, eyebrows furrowing as she realized she wasn’t hit. She brought her eyes off herself and noticed the ghost had disappeared.
She heard more footsteps, stopping in her doorway, “You get it?”
“Yep.”
“Good. Maybe he’ll stay gone until we figure out where he’s buried.”
Dean took a long sip from his beer, eyes on the kids. He choked on it as he spotted Taylor’s swimsuit. He coughed, pulling the beverage away from his mouth, “W-what the hell is she wearing?”
“Her bathing suit.”
The blonde scoffed, pointing an accusatory finger at his little girl – who was definitely too young to be wearing a two-piece, “That is not her bathing suit!”
“Dean-”
“Where the hell did she get that?” He whistled, waving his daughter over, “That better not of been a present.”
“Relax, Dean.”
“Relax? Relax?” The blonde let out an incredulous chuckle, “My baby girl is wearing a bikini!”
“It’s not a-”
“How can you be so calm about this?” Dean shook his head just as Taylor came up to him. He cleared his throat, softening his voice, “Hey, Sweetheart. You having fun?”
“Yeah!”
“Good, good.” The blonde rubbed a hand on his chin, giving her a once over, she might as well be naked! “So, uh… w-where’d you get that?”
“Get what?”
Dean let out a nervous chuckle, gesturing to her bathing suit, “That… thing.”
“My bathing suit?” Taylor’s face lit up as the blonde nodded, “Dad got it for me!” She did a little twirl, tiny pink skirt flying up as she did so, “Isn’t it pretty, Daddy?”
Dean swallowed hard, “Y-yeah, it’s…” He turned bewildered eyes to his husband, “You bought that for her?”
