Or; the one where you take God down a peg but not in the way tumblr is probably thinking
Or; in which, Chuck is a mediocre lay, you’re having a existential crisis, Lucifer, Gabriel, Dean, and Crowley are having the best day of their lives, “shut the fuck up Michael”, Rowena had never been prouder, Sam is trying to mediate, Castiel is confused, and everyone needs therapy.
Or; this is the dumbest thing the author has ever wrote I'm so sorry
You want to squeeze your eyes shut and pray. But to whom? God? He’s standing right there- the entire reason you’re frozen in your chair with your jaw hanging open and dread pooling in your stomach. Maybe Lucifer? Michael? Any angel willing to listen? Though honestly, they’d probably just smite you on the spot. At least then you wouldn’t have to process the fact that Chuck is God.
Chuck. The so called “prophet of the Lord” you’ve been babysitting since the Winchesters dragged him into your lives. You want to demand answers.
Why didn’t he tell you? Why did he write those damn books? Why is Earth such a mess? Why did he design the female orgasm like some kind of puzzle- theoretically possible but requiring instructions and probably an Allen wrench? And most importantly: why do dogs only live ten to fifteen years, they should live forever you absolute bastard?
But what actually comes out is a strangled: “You’re God?? Since when??”
“Since the beginning of time.” Chuck- fucking Chuck- says solemnly.
And then your mouth moves without your permission: “But we fucked!”
Every head in the room snaps toward you- archangels, demons, angels, Rowena, the Winchesters- all staring.
Oops.
You didn’t mean to say that out loud.
Sam’s eyebrows climb so high they nearly vanish into his hairline. Dean’s face cycles through approximately seven different expressions before settling on what can only be described as ‘Christmas morning but also horrified.’ Castiel just looks confused, which, honestly, tracks.
“I’m sorry,” Dean says slowly, pointing between you and Chuck like he’s trying to do math. “What?”
Your face burns hot enough to summon hellfire. “It was years ago. Before- before I knew he was- ” You gesture wildly at Chuck, who has the audacity to look sheepish. “I thought he was just some guy! Some sad, dorky guy who needed a win!”
“‘Just some guy,’” Rowena repeats, absolutely glowing with delight. “Oh, darling. You bedded the Almighty.”
“I didn’t know!” Your voice is climbing toward hysteria. “It wasn’t even- we were both drunk and it was one time! One incredibly mediocre, forgettable time that I’m now going to remember forever because apparently I banged the CEO of the universe!”
“Mediocre?” Chuck looks genuinely offended.
“Oh, I’m sorry, is your ego bruised? You’re God! You created the entire universe, you created nebulas and black holes and the platypus, but you couldn’t find the- ” You stop yourself, looking around the room. “You know what? Not the point. The point is- ”
But you can’t finish because your brain is actively short circuiting. Your hands are shaking. Everything is shaking. You might be having a stroke. Can you have a stroke from existential dread?
“Oh my God,” you breathe, then immediately make a sound like a dying cat. “I can’t- I can’t even use that phrase anymore! It’s ruined! Do you know how often people say ‘oh my God’? It’s like, a linguistic staple! And now every single time I’m going to think about- ” You make a series of increasingly frantic hand gestures that don’t clarify anything.
“Perhaps we could refocus on the more pressing matter of the apocalypse- ” Michael attempts in his most authoritative voice.
“Shut up, Michael!” you snap, and the archangel actually recoils like you’ve slapped him. “I’m having an existential crisis here! A crisis! Do you know what that means? It means my entire understanding of reality is currently doing the Macarena in my brain!”
“The what?” Castiel asks.
“It’s a dance, Cas, stay with me!” You whirl on Chuck, and you can feel yourself spiraling like a helicopter with a broken blade. “I’ve been- I’ve been praying! I prayed before hunting trips! I prayed when Dean died- sorry Dean- ”
“It’s cool, happens a lot,” Dean mutters.
“- I prayed when Sam was soulless, I prayed last Tuesday about finding my car keys- ”
“Did you find the keys?” Castiel asks earnestly.
“That's not the point, Cas!” You’re pacing now, hands pulling at your hair like you’re trying to manually reboot your brain. “This whole time- were you just up there, what, laughing? Taking notes? Did you hear me drunkenly pray rant about my credit card debt? My period cramps? That extremely detailed fantasy I had about- ” You stop abruptly, face flaming. “Oh no.”
Dean perks up like a dog hearing a treat bag. “About what?”
“Nothing. Nobody. Definitely not the guy who played Thor. Or Captain America. Or both of them. Together. With me. Moving on!” You’re gesturing so wildly you nearly hit Castiel in the face. “This is- I can’t-Chuck is God. Chuck. Dorky, pathetic, cheese-puff-eating, robe-wearing at 3pm Chuck who cried when his laptop died!”
“I didn’t cry- ” Chuck protests weakly.
“You absolutely cried! Like a baby! Like a small Victorian child! I was there! I bought you Ben and Jerry’s and let you ugly cry into my shoulder for twenty minutes about your manuscript!” You point at him accusingly. “I felt sorry for you! I gave you a pep talk! I slept with you because you looked like a sad puppy and it seemed like a nice thing to do, like donating to charity or letting someone merge in traffic!”
Multiple beings in the room snort loudly.
“Wait, what?” Sam looks like he’s been slapped with a fish.
“It was a charity lay,” you announce to the room at large, too far gone to care about anything anymore, including your dignity, which has left the building and is currently heading to Canada. “I took pity on him! It was an act of compassion! Like Habitat for Humanity but with orgasms! Except there weren’t any orgasms, so really it was just Habitat for Humanity!”
“Oh my God,” Sam whispers, looking like he needs to sit down.
“See?!” you shriek, pointing at Sam. “You just said it too! It’s unavoidable! It’s a linguistic trap!”
“This is the best day of my life,” Crowley announces, looking like he might actually cry from joy. “I want to frame this moment. I want to paint it on a ceiling like the Sistine Chapel.”
“I’m so glad my psychological breakdown is entertainment for you, Crowley!”
“Deeply entertaining,” he confirms, wiping an imaginary tear. “Please continue. Don’t let us stop you.”
Rowena is practically vibrating with glee. “Darling, I haven’t been this entertained since I watched the Titanic sink.”
“You watched the Titanic sink?!”
“I may have been on it. Briefly. Before the iceberg. But we’re getting off topic- ”
“Off topic?! Off topic?!” Your voice cracks. “The topic is that I had pity sex with the creator of the universe! I slept with God because I felt bad for him! That’s like- that’s like- ” You struggle for a comparison. “That’s like giving Gandhi a hand job because he seemed stressed!”
“That’s a terrible analogy,” Sam says weakly.
"I'm in a crisis, Sam! My analogies are suffering!"
Dean is actively crying with laughter now, bent over, making sounds like a broken accordion.
You spin toward the archangels, who are all watching with varying degrees of discomfort and fascination. “Did you know?!” you demand, pointing at each of them in turn. “When you were all having your daddy issues and fighting about the apocalypse, did you know your father was down here writing supernatural fanfiction and having sad, mediocre one night stands with hunters?!”
Lucifer’s face splits into the biggest grin you’ve ever seen. “Oh, this is magnificent. This is better than the Fall. This is better than everything.”
“Of course you’d think so,” Michael says icily, but even he’s watching with something that looks suspiciously like vindication in his eyes. Like he’s been waiting for someone to take God down a peg for millennia.
Gabriel looks more alive than he’s been since they dragged him back from death. He’s practically glowing. “Dad. Dad. You absolute disaster. You walking catastrophe. You- ” He’s laughing too hard to continue.
“Gabriel- ” Chuck starts, face red.
“No, no, please!” Gabriel waves his hand, wiping tears from his eyes. “Don’t let me interrupt! This is the best thing that’s happened in eons! Do you know how boring eternity is? And now this! It’s like Christmas!”
“See?!” You gesture at Gabriel frantically. “Even your son thinks you’re a hot mess! Your own creation is laughing at you!”
“To be fair,” Lucifer interjects, “we’re always laughing at him. This is just particularly good material.”
“Lucifer,” Michael hisses.
“What? I’m the devil, Mikey. Being honest about Dad’s failures is kind of my whole thing.” Lucifer turns to you with genuine appreciation. “By the way, I’m really enjoying your work here. Very thorough. Really hitting all the important points.”
“Thanks, Satan,” you say reflexively, then stop. “Oh God- fuck! See? I did it again! I can’t escape it!”
You swing back to Chuck, and your voice is getting higher and higher like a tea kettle approaching critical mass. “What was your plan here?! Just never mention it? Hope I’d forget? ‘Oh hey, remember that time we had awkward, unmemorable sex where you finished in approximately thirty seconds? Surprise, I’m the Almighty Creator! Plot twist!’”
“It wasn’t thirty seconds- ” Chuck protests.
“It really was though,” you cut him off mercilessly. “I’ve had coughs that lasted longer. I’ve had hiccups with more staying power!”
Dean makes a sound like a dying whale. He’s on the floor now. Actually on the floor.
“I’ve had more satisfying experiences at the DMV,” you continue, on a roll now. “At least there I got a new license out of it. What did I get from you? Disappointment and now, apparently eternal spiritual trauma!”
“Okay, that’s just hurtful- ” Chuck tries.
“Hurtful?! Hurtful?!” You’re pretty sure you’re having an out-of-body experience. “You want to talk about hurtful? Let’s talk about how you created everything! Every monster, every demon, every horror we’ve faced! You made a world where children die, where good people suffer, where I’ve burned so many bodies I can’t even smell barbecue anymore without having flashbacks!”
“Oh, that’s a mood,” Dean manages from the floor.
“You could have made things good!” you continue, voice cracking. “You could have made a world where puppies live forever and cancer doesn’t exist and my student loans weren’t the GDP of a small nation! But you didn’t! You made this!” You gesture around wildly. “You made a world that’s approximately seventy percent suffering, twenty percent confusion, and ten percent convenience store coffee!”
“And then,” you continue, voice shaking, “you came down here, pretended to be human, let me make you soup when you had writer’s block- I made you soup, Chuck! Homemade soup! Do you know how long that takes?!”
“I appreciated the soup- ” Chuck tries.
“And you had mediocre sex with me because- why?! Boredom?! A joke?! An experiment?! ‘Let’s see what happens when God rawdogs a mortal’?!”
“Jesus Christ,” Sam says, looking faint.
“Oh, don’t bring Chuck's brother into this!” you snap.
“He’s not my- ” Chuck starts, then stops. “Actually, you know what, this isn’t the time.”
Gabriel is wheezing. Actually wheezing. “Oh my Dad- oh my me?- this is incredible. She said rawdog. She said God rawdogs mortals. I’m deceased. I’m dying. I’m already dead but I’m dying again.”
“Were there others?!” you demand suddenly, a new horrifying thought occurring. “Is this your thing?! Do you just go around having disappointing one night stands with mortals?! Am I part of a pattern?! Oh God- ” You make a strangled sound. “- is there like a support group? ‘Hi, I’m Karen, I slept with God in 1987 and he never called’?!”
“There are no others!” Chuck looks genuinely panicked now.
“How is that supposed to make me feel better?! That just means I was specifically chosen for a bad time!”
“It wasn’t supposed to be bad- ”
“Well it was, Chuck! It was bad! It was so bad that I literally forgot about it until just now! That’s how bad it was! You were so forgettable that you got filed away in my brain under ‘mediocre experiences, don’t repeat’!” You’re pacing in aggressive circles now, like a very angry shark. “I’ve had better experiences at the dentist! At least there I got a free toothbrush!”
“I can’t believe we’re discussing Father’s sexual performance,” Michael says, looking like he’s been stabbed.
“Oh, we’re discussing it,” you confirm. “We’re discussing it thoroughly. Because you know what? I deserve to discuss it! I deserve to process this! I slept with God and it was mid!”
“Mid,” Lucifer repeats, delighted. “Oh, that’s going in the quote book.”
“What quote book?” Castiel asks.
“The one I’m starting right now specifically for this conversation.”
You turn back to Chuck, and you’re crying now, but they’re angry tears, the kind that make you want to flip a table. “You want to know what the worst part is? It’s not even the sex! The sex was whatever! Forgettable! Fine! I’ve had worse! There was this guy in Tulsa who- actually, no, not relevant!” You shake your head violently. “The worst part is that I liked you! Dorky, awkward, kind of pathetic you! I thought you were sweet! I thought you were genuine! I made you soup and gave you pep talks and slept with you because you seemed like a nice guy having a hard time!”
“I was having a hard time- ” Chuck protests.
"You're God! You make the times! You make the hard! You're the reason times are hard!" You’re pretty sure you’re not making sense anymore but you’re too far gone to care. “You don’t get to have a sad boy moment when you created sadness!”
“That’s actually a really good point,” Sam says.
“Thank you, Sam!”
“But none of it was fake,” Chuck says desperately, stepping closer. You step back so fast you nearly trip over Castiel. “That’s what you don’t understand- ”
“What I don’t understand?! What I don't understand?!” Your voice reaches a pitch that probably only dogs can hear. “I understand plenty! I understand that I’ve been praying to someone who’s seen me naked! I understand that every time I said ‘God help me’ I was technically talking to a guy who couldn’t find the clitoris with a map and a GPS!”
The room explodes.
Dean is making sounds that aren’t human anymore. He might be having a medical emergency.
Gabriel has fallen off his chair. Just fully collapsed.
Crowley is crying. Actual tears. “I can die happy now. This is it. This is the peak.”
“Father,” Lucifer says with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen, “she said you can’t find the clitoris. The human said you, the Creator, the All-Knowing, can’t find the clitoris.”
“I know what she said!” Chuck looks like he wants the ground to swallow him.
“With a map and a GPS!” Gabriel shrieks from the floor. “She specified! She said with a MAP AND A GPS!”
“Can someone explain what a clitoris is?” Castiel asks innocently.
“Not now, Cas!” at least five people shout in unison.
“Do you know what this means?!” You’re still going, too far into the spiral to stop now. “Every time I’ve gotten myself off- which is frequently- I’ve been doing it better than the Creator of the universe!”
“Oh my God, make it stop,” Sam begs, head in his hands.
“It’s not stopping!” Dean wheezes. “This is the greatest thing I’ve ever witnessed! This is better than- than- I can’t even think of something better!”
“You designed childbirth to be agonizing but you couldn’t figure out basic foreplay?!” you continue, on an absolute tear now. “You created the G-spot and then apparently forgot where you put it! That’s like building a house and forgetting where the bathroom is!”
“I think she’s broken,” Rowena observes, but she looks delighted.
“Thoroughly,” Crowley agrees.
Michael looks like he’s aged a thousand years in the last five minutes. “Can we please- ”
“NO!” you interrupt. “No, Michael, we cannot ‘please’! Nothing is ‘please’ right now! Everything is the opposite of ‘please’! Everything is ‘oh God no’ and I CAN’T EVEN SAY THAT ANYMORE WITHOUT THINKING ABOUT THIS!”
You whirl on Chuck one more time, and you’re pretty sure you’re having a full breakdown now. “You know what the really messed up part is? I’m not even heartbroken! I didn’t love you! I barely even liked you! You were just there and seemed sad and I was between hunts and thought ‘why not, might as well’! It was like deciding to watch a mediocre movie because nothing else was on!”
“A mediocre movie,” Chuck repeats weakly.
“A mediocre movie that I forgot I watched!” you clarify. “That’s how forgettable you were! You were background noise! You were elevator music! You were- you were- ” You struggle for the right comparison. “You were the human equivalent of plain oatmeal!”
“Plain oatmeal,” Lucifer repeats reverently. “God is plain oatmeal.”
“Sexually,” Gabriel adds helpfully, still on the floor. “Sexually plain oatmeal.”
“But now?” you continue, voice breaking. “Now I have to live with the knowledge that I had mediocre sex with GOD! That’s going to be in my head forever! Every time I pray- if I ever even pray again- I’m going to remember! Every time someone mentions God, I’m going to have flashbacks! I’m going to be in the middle of a hunt and someone’s going to say ‘God willing’ and I’m going to have a PTSD episode!”
“That does sound difficult,” Castiel says sympathetically.
“Thank you, Cas. You’re the only valid one here.”
“I don’t know what that means but you’re welcome.”
You point at Chuck with a shaking finger. “You’ve ruined everything! You’ve ruined God! You’ve ruined prayer! You’ve ruined the concept of divinity! You’ve ruined the phrase ‘Oh God’ during sex forever because now I’ll just think about YOU and your thirty seconds of shame!”
“It was longer than thirty seconds!” Chuck finally snaps.
"Was it though, Chuck Shurley? Was it!?
“Oh, she’s using the full name,” Gabriel observes. “That’s never good.”
“How long do you think it was?!” you demand. “Give me a number! A specific number!”
Chuck opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again.
“That’s what I thought!” you announce triumphantly. “You don’t even know! The creator of time itself doesn’t know how long he lasted! That’s how forgettable it was for both of us!”
“I’m going to need so much therapy,” Sam says to no one in particular.
“You and me both, buddy,” you agree. “Except how do I even explain this to a therapist?! ‘Yeah, doc, so I had a one night stand with the Almighty Creator and it turns out he’s responsible for all human suffering and also bad at sex. I’m having some feelings about it.’”
“That’s very succinct,” Rowena says. “I think you’re handling this well.”
"I'm handling this terribly! I'm having a breakdown! This is what a breakdown looks like!"
“Yes, but you’re doing it with panache,” she counters.
“Are you seriously complimenting my breakdown form right now?!”
“Someone should!”
You turn back to Chuck, and you’re so tired suddenly. Exhausted beyond measure. “I need to leave,” you announce. “I need to process this literally anywhere that isn’t here. Anywhere. A dumpster. A volcano. The bottom of the ocean. All of those sound better than here right now.”
“We still need to discuss the apocalypse- ” Michael starts.
“Michael,” you say, very calmly, very slowly. “If you don’t shut up right now, I’m going to fuck Chuck again and make you my step-son. Do you want that because I'll do it. I'll fucking do it because I’m in the mood to make everyone uncomfortable now.”
Michael closes his mouth so fast his teeth click.
“That’s what I thought.” You grab your jacket. “You all, angels, demons, God, whatever; you all figure it out. I’m going to go get extremely drunk and try not to think about the fact that I’ve seen the Creator of the Universe naked. Which is hard, by the way, because now it’s all I can think about! Thanks for that! Thanks for the eternal mental image!”
“It wasn’t that bad- ” Chuck tries one more time.
You stop at the door. Turn around slowly. Look him dead in the eye.
“Chuck,” you say, very seriously. “I’ve seen a lot of things in my life. Monsters. Demons. The actual Devil. And I can honestly say that you, naked, awkwardly fumbling with a condom for three minutes, is somehow in the top ten most disturbing things I’ve witnessed.”
The room goes silent.
Then Dean absolutely loses it. He’s crying. He might be having a seizure.
"Is she saying the condom took longer than the-" Gabriel shrieks.
“Okay, I’m leaving now!” you announce. “Good luck with your apocalypse! Hope you all die! Except you, Cas, you’re fine!”
“Thank you!” Cas calls after you.
You walk out, slamming the door behind you, leaving God and his supremely dysfunctional family behind.
Behind you, you hear:
“Well,” Dean manages between gasping laughs. “That was…”
“Incredible,” Lucifer finishes. “That was incredible. I’m going to remember this for the rest of eternity.”
“Father,” Gabriel says, still on the floor. “You have got to work on your stamina. And your map reading skills.”
“GABRIEL!”
“Also your condom application technique- ”
“I'm going to smite you!”
“Get in line! Everyone wants to smite me! At least I didn’t disappoint anyone sexually!”
You keep walking, head spinning, reality crumbling around the edges.
You slept with God.
God was bad in bed.
God took three minutes to put on a condom.
God created everything, including the hunting life that’s slowly killing you.
God can’t find the clitoris even though he literally designed it.
You need a drink. Several drinks. Maybe an entire distillery.
And therapy. So much therapy.
“This is fine,” you mutter to yourself, flagging down a cab. “This is totally fine. Just another Tuesday. Just found out God is bad at sex. Normal day. Regular, normal day.”
The cab driver gives you a concerned look in the rearview mirror.
You gasped against Stu's lips before you jerked away. Hand raising to smack him for doing that ahile you were vulnerable and angry and-
He grabbed your wrist before you could slap him. You glared and went to use the other hand before he grabbed that one too. Stu gave you a flirty, coy little grin at having both your wrist in his large hands as a frustrated growl of annoyance ripped from your throat. Face hot and head thumping as you nudged him in the gut with your knee.
“Ugh!-” He gasped. Air momentarily knocked out of him as you barely nudged his stitched up abdomen. You shot up and rushed to the door; Your own hurt body be damned.
You were fucking humiliated! Of course he made this a joke, of course he just liked seeing you riled up, he was the most confusing impulsive god forsaken freak you ever met other than the other asshole in the living room.
“No, wait!” He quickly rushed and blocked the door in a panic. Grimacing with the movement. “Don't.”
You glared, “Move, Stu! I wanted to talk; not you look for an opportunity.”
“Sweetcheeks, please.” He begged.
“No! Damn it, Stu. I'm done. Ya know what? Think whatever you want. If you want to believe I was madly in love or I hated you or I lied or me and Billy are a thing; think whatever! I'm tired of the insults and manipulation-”
“YN!” He pleaded as he flushed himself against the press board door. Still banged up from earlier and from the last few days. “Don't go…Please don't go. I'm sorry, okay? I don't think you're easy, I don't think you're a bitch, I don't think you hate me I-” His voice wavered.
You held your glare as he stared at you and continued his plight. “I'm hurt, okay? I'm just saying shit and I know I suck. I know I'm an asshole and a user and a pervert and a freak. I know it, I do, I know it.” His baby blue eyes bore into you in a rare act of vulnerability as you stared apprehensively back at him. “I use fucking-” His voice caught in his throat as he shook his head, “- Jokes and shit to cover up knowing no one wants me unless I'm the clown.”
You sighed at the dull ache in your chest; the damned feeling.
“Please.” You huffed softly. “You were so popular in school, you had girls into you, you had rich parents that let you get away with murder… Literally. You're rich now with models and acting jobs. Karma definitely does not exist because you have it all.”
His face screwed up and he furiously shook his head the more you spoke. Watery blue his eyes stared at you as he sucked in a breath, “No…No, it's all bullshit. I lie all the time. I just make it seem like I got it all…Sometimes I do, sometimes I'm a sad pathetic guy sitting at home by himself.”
“Join the club.” You couldn't resist saying. I mean, damn. Did everyone think because you paraded around by your old publicist like a circus act that your life was grande? You were so SICK of everyone using you or patronizing you or dismissing you in favor of their own hurt.
You were about to shove past him before he dropped to his knees. You looked embarrassed, unsure and tense as you told him, “Stu, c'mon…Get up. You're gonna mess up your stitches.”
He hugged your waist, careful of your own stitches as he looked up at you. Blue eyes twinkling in the lamp's lighting. “I can't! Please, my life is shit without you. I can't stand the idea of you with anyone but me. Fuck, I'm willing to share even with fuckface if I have to…YN, I have to be involved! I have to have you. I gotta be near you, I gotta-” His voice was raw with emotion as he gripped you tighter.
You faltered as he bombarded you. This felt like manipulation in itself and by God it was sadly working as a sinking happened with your weary heart.
His face screwed up like a sad child as tears leaked down his eyes. No longer a murderer at this moment. That was him. He had so many sides. So many curves. So many masks. You knew he was probably just crying for himself and yet you felt pity. Hell, didn't everyone cry for themselves? You cried for Randy but also poor you. You cried for Dewey not believing you because it wasn't fair to you…Maybe this was Stockholm syndrome? Maybe you were as sick as them? Maybe they finally broke you? But you ran a hand through Stu's dark blonde hair, almost a light brown as it darkened with age. He whimpered and cried against you.
“I'm sick of being last. I'm sick of it.” He sobbed. Hiccuping his words. “I-I want someone to fucking love me!…No one ever picks me." He whimpered as he sniffled. "I'm always last. Always second best to Billy. To everyone. Just the comedy in the background…Even you picked him over me.” He sobbed heavily against you more than you ever heard and it tore at you. The real problem right there. A deep sense of pain that he was never you or anyone else's first choice.
“Hey…Hey, Stu. Stu, c'mon.” You ran a comforting hand through his hair. “I didn't pick Billy over you. I didn't pick anyone. I've been trying to tell you all night, I just found Billy's note days ago and confronted him on the porch tonight and…”
“But you had a moment! You go to him because you're scared of me.” He gave in a low voice, sniffing hard and wiping his tears against Billy's shirt you wore as he kneeled. Just insult to injury right in front of him. “Plleasse…Please Yn…Please let me love you the only way I know how. Please, I don't know how to be good. I don't know how to love. I don't-” He faltered with a cry in his throat.
You frowned deeply. “Stu…”
“YN.” He gazed up at you with teary blue eyes. “I love you. I've always loved you in the only way I know how…Teach me. Please please please don't abandon me. Don't leave me again. I can't take it! I don't want that Hollywood shit or those whores or money; I just want you…You're all I want. You're all I've ever wanted. You're all I fucking have!” He pleaded on his knees with pitiful cries.
You stared down at him, wavering on your feet. Light headed. Sick to your stomach. Throat dry. “Stu…Oh Stu.” You sighed out.
“D-Do you love me?” His lower lip trembled as he gazed up at you. Genuine emotion from what you could see. He was always a hurricane. Happy was elation and anger was rage and sadness was devastation and he flipped through them so easily.
You faltered. What do you do? He really had you cornered here. Your face contorted in your own misery and anguish as a lump formed in your throat. “I…” You gritted your teeth and forced it out. Not much left to lose now. “I do. And yet I resent you. I can't let you in. I can't let you close and you make it so hard…That's why I went no contact. Because I'd let you in if you were near me. I can't have you hurting me and breaking my heart over and over.” You softly whispered trying not to cry.
“I won't!” His eyes lit up and he eagerly nodded through his tears, “I deserve your resentment, I suck! I'm shit! I fucked up your life and I deserve it! I-I do... I'll make up for it.”
“Stu-” You sighed out heavily especially considering how he acted tonight.
“No, I swear. I promise. Give me a chance, give me one damn chance. Please, YN!” He grasped his long arms around your thighs to hug you to him. “I'll be whatever you need just don't shut me out again. I'll change! Please!”
“You have tried but…Stu, I don't know if you can.”
“Then I'll change more; YN PLEASE!” He begged like a dying man. “Please I love you, I love you please-” He babbled.
You just broke. You couldn't fight this anymore. You might go to prison or die or be alone forever. You had no one. Why fight this anymore?
Yes, he was wrong. He was sick. He killed Tatum and Sidney and tried killing you. He was a monster…And yet the more you let him in, the less monstrous he seemed. When does a monster not become a monster? When you fall in love with them...
He seemed more like an immature child throwing tantrums and begging for love and attention and no one hears him than anything. He felt like a creature that doesn't know how to love yet wants to. You've been so lonely…So fucking lonely. Even before all this, you knew how he felt. Dewey and Randy and your family barely made time for you when you spent years trying for them; so fuck it. What more was there to lose?
“...Okay.” You sighed heavily. “I won't shut you out. I won't do that to you again unless you give me a reason. You're already off on a shitty start tonight.” You warned while dabbing your eyes.
He looked up at you and to your disgusted amusement had tears and snot on his face on your damn shirt. “You mean it?” His voice was so high pitched and strained for him.
You gave a reluctant smirk, “Yeah, don't make me regret it, okay? I missed the Stu that came over for spaghetti at my house years ago, not the asshole I talked to on the phone days ago or the guy I saw tonight.”
He looked at you in reverence. “He's gone. I promise.”
You knew that wasn't the case but you sighed and smiled as he forced himself up and to stand you helping him after the injuries he sustained against Jill and Charlie. “Can you stay?”
“Nooo, I shouldn't.”
“No, I insist. You shouldn't sleep on a couch with springs coming out of it. You deserve a memory foam mattress not that bums couch.” He wiped his eyes and you got him a tissue off the nightstand. He blew his nose loudly and joked, “Tissues on the nightstand? Yeah we know what these are for.”
You couldn't help the smirk. The warmth in your chest at not fighting. At being able to slowly lower your well constructed walls. “Stu, people sneeze in the middle of the night, ya know.”
"Pft." Stu huffed. You cringed slightly at him using the tissue to pick his nose and get any runniness out. “Yeah well, he's a miserable guy in his 30's. He's blowing his load, not snot.”
You groaned softly but smiled reluctantly as he rubbed his nose and sniffled at how hard he had sobbed.
“Ugh. That was pretty unmanly of me.” He grimaced.
“Nah.”
“Don't lie to me. It's patronizing. You still have my snot and tears on your shirt…His shirt.” He grumbled the last part.
“Stu, don't start.” You chided but looked down and…Ew. He groaned standing up painfully and got a fresh tissue to rub his wet face fluids off the edge of your nightshirt.
“Yeah yeah.” He grumbled while cleaning it. He gazed back up at you. “Sorry but…”
You sighed softly and wryly smiled, “It's fine. I think we all have been through Hell. Just chalk it up as...Stress.”
“C'mon.” He urged you to the bed.
Despite your best efforts…That bed looked so nice compared to the old smelly couch. He grasped your hand with the gentleness of a Dove rather than a predator. Easing you both to the bed as you grimaced in pain at moving.
“Shit, sorry.” He mumbled as you winced and both of you accidentally got face to face. "My face good?"
You smirked, "Yeah, you're good."
He gazed at you and you at him. His eyes were puffy and hooded as they flickered to your lips before leaning forward. You almost shoved away but damn you were tired. You were emotionally and physically tired and his lips touching yours just…
You relaxed as he kissed you and you couldn't resist it. Years and years of stubborn resistance became silly at this point. You hummed softly and kissed him back.
This was so different than in that garage at his party in 1996…He deepened the kiss and grabbed you. Urgent and hot and desperate and demanding as you faltered. Memories of your first kiss coming back and seeing Tatum's body-
“Ow!” You hissed at him gripping you too tight and too close where your stitches were.
You glared at his smug grin against your face. “Mm, can't you just take it like a good- Ow!” He yelped at you poking his stitches and he grabbed your hand for him to let go with a glare of his own. “Allrriighhtt. Damn.”
You both stared, trying to catch your breath before you firmly told him. “I need time.”
“You've had 15 years.” He reminded you in mild annoyance as he settled back on the pillow.
“Yeah, well…” You frowned and averted your gaze. “I need more.”
He lost his inflated ego and sighed. Nestling a bit closer and pulling the blanket over you both with a groan at using his arms.
“Alright…Alright, I'll give you time baby.” He whispered as he kissed your forehead and laid back down while gazing at you.
Your face felt hot. It was so uncharacteristically soft of Stu and yet not really. He was very openly affectionate, not stifled like Billy. He was just selfish, rude, pig headed, arrogant, immature, sadistic. Yet...
You almost didn't trust closing your eyes. Pillow fortresses between you both the last time you slept together in the same bed…But god your head hurt, your eyes were heavy, you ached. So tired you just closed your eyes as his fingers gently ran up and down your arm. Observing you.
‘Maybe he's just as bewildered as I am?’ You wondered before sleep took you.
‐------------------------------------
You woke up in the middle of the night feeling unwell. Staring right at Stu in bed as you realized you actually did let your guard down enough to sleep…You still couldn't believe it. You both kissed.
But behind the kiss you told yourself you tried to get out of; was the emotional connection to a fucking murderer…You actually still had something for him. After all the horrible evil shit he's done and everything he's put you through. Unbelievable.
You wanted to hate yourself after everything you let him do. The way you let him manipulate you like that. Yet, you didn't have the energy. You felt worn down, exhausted, hopeless. Like you were lost in the dark and the only ones with lanterns were Billy and Stu. How messed up. They could be soaked in blood and poking you with a knife in that darkness, and yet, they had metaphorical lanterns. They were the only things you truly had left. You were just so…So tired. So damn tired of hiding and wanting connection and never truly having it out of fear of the consequences. And so, this one time, it seemed you let your guard down and finally let Stu in.
…Furthermore, your head was frigging killing you.
You just need to sneak out to catch a breath. You needed fresh air to think. About what? You didn't know. But seeing Stu's sleeping face beside you felt too intimate right now. You slowly crept out of Billy's bed, the old mattress creaking with your movements. Stu stirred and you stiffened a bit. Your sore body pounding and heavy as you waited to see what he might do. You watched him resettle in bed, dozing back to slumber and you tiptoed out of there. Barely shutting the cheap door and shuffling slowly across the shag carpet. You went down the hall, past the open living room and to the front door-
“Where do you think you're going?”
You paused hearing his voice. Sighing to yourself because of course he was up.
“Just getting fresh air.” You said not even looking at him.
“Yeah? Not leaving are you?” He mumbled sitting in that chair and with a grunt of pain to stand.
You looked over your shoulder at the blunt question, “...No.”
“You better not.” He warned as he stood. “There's no way you're leaving me here with that nut job. You can't just fuck a crazy killer that's been obsessed with you since High School then leave thinking he won't go apeshit.”
You scoffed with narrowed eyes. “I did not.” You grumbled not nearly as vehemently as you normally would be.
He held up a hand, “Ah ah. I don't care.” But he did eye you for a moment. “...Did he force you or hurt you or anything? Not that I care just trying to figure shit out is all.” He asked quietly, averting his eyes. “Lots of commotion. I was waiting for you to scream or something and me have to save your ass, as usual.” He shrugged looking away with a grumpy expression.
“No…Besides, I'd fight him the way I did you both at Windsor. Stuff of yours would've gotten broken and I could handle myself.” You reluctantly mumbled with a wry smile knowing you were blowing smoke.
Billy smirked whether at your false bravado or the sick memory of kissing you and almost taking advantage of you backstage at college; it was unclear.
Regardless, he simply lost the wavering smirk and nodded, “Alright. Just don't go running off. I mean it, I will drag you back here kicking and screaming.”
You huffed softly while turning to look at him fully, “Why? Scared I'd go to the cops?” You couldn't help jeering.
“That.” He got a bit closer. “And it's just…Not what you should do. We aren't hurting you and whether we like it or not we need to stick close to avoid cops. I gotta keep you alive to possibly kill you one day.”
There was silence before you mumbled, “Is that the only reason? That goal of yours?”
“Don't be such a freak.” Billy scoffed, “Yeah? The Hell you think I'd miss you or something? Please.”
You rolled your eyes at how damn defensive he got but stayed quiet as he continued.
“- But Stu would definitely go ballistic if you left and I mean after everything I'd hoped you wouldn't abandon me with him in that state.” He shrugged looking away.
“Oh no worries, I won't abandon the guy that's wanting to off me one day.” You sarcastically quipped. You watched him. The air still awkward after the fight and letter reveal but released air through your nostrils you didn't know you were holding in. “Jesus, stop bugging out on me. I'm not leaving. Just need fresh air…” You hugged yourself. “I'm cold. Hoping outside will be warmer, I guess.”
Billy blinked and looked at you. “Cold? You don't look it…In fact, you look like shit. Like you ran a marathon or something. How hard did you ride him in my bed?”
“Shut up and bite me.” You grumbled with an eyeroll. “I told you we didn't. I just don't feel good…Like, at all.” You stiffened as he felt your face out of nowhere.
You stared in wide eyed shock and despite yourself you seemed to memorize his hand. The slight roughness and his more masculine hand on your soft face compared to when you were teenagers. You dare say you relished it. Almost closing your eyes and untensing at his touch…God, how lonely have you gotten?
His brows furrowed, “Damn woman, you're burning up... Get to the couch.” He guided you; not taking no for an answer.
“Hey, what-”
“Shut up.” He ordered in a rushed mumble. Sitting you down and lifting your shirt. You went to fight him, taken aback but stopped the knee jerk reaction as you remembered your stitches, the soreness a stark reminder. His reaction alone made any protest die in your throat as he turned on a lamp then shot up cursing, “Son of a-”
“W-What?” You asked. A feeling of trepidation at his reaction creeping into you.
“Shit. You have an infection. Bad... God damn it!” He cursed, rushing around the best his injured leg and torso could let him.
Your eyes widened. With a pained groan you got up to stagger to the bathroom while he was busy rummaging for things. Your heart felt like it was pounding out of your chest and lungs felt a bit more labored than usual. Maybe it was just a placebo to Billy's reaction?
But that hopeful thought died. You gasped as you looked in the mirror at your whole torso, significantly darker and redder than the rest of your body. “OH MY GOD!”
This was bad. You swore you already had body aches and chills but somehow seeing that magnified it. You felt sicker than ever before.
Billy was rushing about looking through cabinets and cussing, “Damn it.” He hissed as he went to his room and pounded on his bedroom door. “Stu, get up!”
You didn't stop him. Unsure what to do…You could die within a day like this. Maybe sooner.
————————————
Stu and Billy sat around you as you shivered and held a blanket to yourself. Almost spacing out and dissociating.
“...This is so bad, man.” Stu mumbled with his elbows on his knees the best he could with his injuries.
“Yeah it is. Sepsis is setting in.” Billy ran a hand over his head.
You had been watching Stu and he looked clammy too if you were being honest. Billy was the only one that seemed more tired than anything.
“What are we gonna do? She'll die!” Stu urged.
“I don't know.” Billy's leg shook as he tried to think.
Stu demanded, “Do we rob a damn pharmacy?! Do we find a fucking drug dealer? What the hell do we do?-”
“I don't know, damn it!” Billy snapped back. Grabbing at his now short dark hair as Stu seemed to have definitely got over his bitterness earlier.
Stu looked at you, almost doting on you with a worried look. “Sweetcheeks, why did you wait? You should've said something right away!”
“I didn't, I took…The pills um…I took the pills like I was supposed to…Didn't feel this sick.” Even forming thoughts to words was hard. You should have told him ‘I would have but someone was being dramatic and fist fighting’ but you were too tired to even do that.
Billy shook his head with a tense expression. “She's gonna fucking die.”
“No shit, dick!” Stu smacked the coffee table.
“Well, she is! No fucking fish or horse antibiotics or even human pills are gonna help her now that's in her bloodstream like that.” He leaned against the wall clutching his face.
“Then give her all of what we have. Damn it, screw me, man! Just give them so we aren't dumping her in a ditch like this. She was supposed to die by OUR hands; not infection!”
You gave him a side eye but stayed quiet.
Billy groaned, “Are you listening? It's in her blood. Pills are not gonna work and she'll probably just puke them up.”
Stu looked at you as you shuddered at how cold you were. “...She's gotta go to an ER. She has to. Get an IV or whatever. She's not dying like this. Not right now.”
“And they'll nab her.” Billy gave helplessly as he smacked his head lightly trying to think. “They'll arrest her and hunt for us.”
“Then screw it!” Stu was sweating and looking tense. “I'll turn myself in. Screw it.”
That snapped you out of it a bit. “What?” You hoarsely mumbled, “N-No. No you're not…”
“You're gonna die.” Stu glared down at you as he hissed it out. “You're gonna fucking die if you don't get to a hospital soon. If I turn myself in and just claim I kidnapped you and-”
“No.” You protested. in a strained, tired voice. Even breathing feels labored. “You're not-”
Stu looked eye level with you as you sat. “I made sure you survived all this time despite everything. You aren't dying from something as stupid as sepsis.”
Billy groaned, “Shut up! Just think for a second and don't be so damn impulsive-”
“WE DON'T HAVE SECONDS!” Stu yelled.
As if on cue, you felt something coming up and quickly leaned over to the wastebasket beside the couch. Gagging and groaning in pain as you puked.
“Oh great. She just upchucked all the medication.” Billy grunted and rolled his lips in thought, “If we get her to a hospital and get out…Like a tiny one…One with low security.”
“And will they have what she needs?” Stu urged as he helped steady you.
“I don't know, why are you acting like I'm God here!? I don't fucking know, Stu!-”
“It's almost sunrise, so we need to figure something out!”
Amidst their arguing…The phone rang.
Everyone stopped to look down at your phone…An unknown caller at 5am?
“Don't answer it.” Billy was going to snatch it.
You groaned and sat up more, wiping your mouth. “Wait, maybe…Maybe we should?” You panted out. “What do I gotta lose? I wanna know.”
Billy sighed heavily and pinched his nose bridge. “YN, the fever is getting to you. You're not making sense.”
Stu of all people answered, “Yo, whose this?”
You and Billy stared at him. His eyes widened before narrowing at whatever was said on the other line. He put it on speaker phone and replied, “Yeah…She's here.”
“Good. You're lucky I had a spare of these…Don't you dare name drop or I will hang up and go after the Riley's or maybe those tiny Meek brats so vulnerable and unattended by the grieving widow, hm?”
Ghostface. Not just any Ghostface. Jill. You wanted to know how she got another modulator into what you presumed was still the hospital. Did Dewey ignorantly retrieve a bag or something from her house with it in it?
You narrowed your eyes, holding the blanket close to yourself. “...What do you want? How did you-” You demanded.
“I remember the number? Trust me, I would remember your number YN. Even having to punch it into someone else's cell.” They continued after a pause. “I've been debating this all night. Decided to give you a wake up call before anyone is aware. I wanna make a deal with you. Come back to Woodsboro and we forget this ever happened.”
Billy scoffed, “You think we're idiots?”
“Yes.” The voice bluntly gave. “But more than that; you're desperate. Nowhere to go, running out of places to hide, probably hurting really bad too…Everyone knows YN's face, how long can you hide YN?”
You sobered knowing she was right. Even without infection setting in…Couldn't go home, visit family, travel, go anywhere without people recognizing you. People found you during your court trial over a decade ago let alone now with your face on billboards.
“And besides, you're probably wishing you were in a plush hospital bed right about now hm?”
“Must be nice.” Stu retorted.
“Shut up.” The voice warned. “I'm cutting you a deal but any name dropping or information of locations even over the phone and you can kiss it goodbye. Quickly. Make a choice.”
You were having a hard time concentrating as Billy told her, “Alright, name it.”
“YN comes home to Woodsboro. Tell them Charlie was involved and the two unknowns that Police won't find…That's it.”
Your eyes narrowed. “So, you want me to not disclose the real killer, huh? Forget it. You killed my friend and now you want a deal?”
Stu stopped you from hanging up by grabbing your wrist. “Hey, quit.” He for once was the level headed one in your feverish state. He talked louder, “So, that's it?” He asked the caller. “Just say the only killers were Charlie and two unknowns they'll never find?”
“Yeah. Maybe I'm one of them and calling you right now? Couldn't really tell in all the chaos, could you? It happened so fast. I bet the other survivor couldn't either.” She kept up the act like it wasn't her.
You soured. She was asking you to help her get away with murder.
“She'll do it.” Stu stated firmly.
“Stu-” You protested.
Billy said nothing but didn't seem against it either.
“Hurry. Get here before noon and tell the ‘truth’.”
Billy finally chimed in, “And how did she get out of the hospital? What's your answer to that?”
“It was obvious she was kidnapped, moron. I wonder if she ever even saw their faces?”
This was crazy. She wanted you to go to the lion's den that was Woodsboro and testify nothing but lies and pray none of you got any severe consequences for such a risky action?
“Fine. She'll be there.” Billy agreed and hung up the phone for you.
“How dare you?” You tiredly glared, “I am not-”
“You are.” Billy ordered in a cold no bullshit tone. “This gets us off police radar if you give a false description that matches Jill's.”
“I can't…Damn it…She killed-”
“And you'll be next, idiot!” Stu exclaimed with clear worry on his face. “You're dying and you won't do this because of fucking Randy!? I will drop your ass off at Woodsboro hospital myself at this point!”
“You two are nuts!...It won't work.” You grumbled while your teeth chattered.
Stu's blue eyes narrowed in determination. “Do it or I'll turn myself in.”
“You can't be serious.”
“I am! Sweetcheeks, you have a severe case of sepsis and every goddamn minute counts!” He looked at Billy and told him. “Get us some clothes and your keys.”
Usually Billy gave the orders but it seemed after your kiss; Stu's crush on you magnified and he wasn't letting his obsession with you die. No way, no how.
Billy sighed and walked to the hallway throwing an arm up, “Screw it. It's our best shot.”
You gaped and raised your voice the best you could, “Stop it! I'm not!”
Stu grabbed your arms painfully and shook you, “Shut the hell up. You are!” He practically spat in your face. “You know what? We aren't arguing.” The 6’4 guy just hauled you up to your feet and dragged you as Billy got his keys and some spare clothes.
You protested the whole way trying to grab the door and Billy just effortlessly plucked your fingers free in your feverish weak state. Stu helped you down the stairs the best he could before shoving you in the van's back seat while you groaned in pain. Trembling at the night air hitting you while your face felt hot as hell.
“We're taking back roads so police don't possibly pull us over.” Billy informed closing his door. “If they do? You know the drill.”
“Yeah, I got it.” Stu gave, getting in the passenger side.
“What the hell? Stop.” You weakly ordered not having a say in YOU possibly going to prison too if caught and convicted was infuriating!
Billy turned to glare at you while starting the vehicle. “This gets us free for good. No more hunting for Tim and James if you change our description and say it was two different guys. Billy and Stu stay dead. Tim and James don't look like us. Our new identities are safe. You get treatment, we might get treatment if we get worse in a different hospital, you get away and we get away and all you have to do is say fuck your dumbass moral code.”
Stu added as Billy put the van in reverse, “You think you're being selfish to Randy? The dead guy?” You winced at how callous he was as he continued, “You're being selfish to us, YN. We've done you wrong but we also did right, so ya know what? This is something you can do to clear this and be even.”
Your mind in your feverish state was reeling. Too much at one time.“But…Fingerprints at the scene and…Descriptions?”
Stu added, “Yeah yeah, our fingerprints are in the system. Mainly Billy from the false arrest in 96 but we'll deal with that somehow. After all, I got a fake ID and can get another one…We'll still have to lay low but this throws cops off our tail a bit if we need to get treated at a hospital a few cities over and get out as soon as possible.”
“But Dewey!-”
“Fuck Dewey!” Billy sneered as he drove down a rural backroad. “Dewey didn't listen to you at all. Man looked close to shooting you too if it meant shooting me. He didn't care if you had to flee with no treatment. In fact, I'm sure he ordered a manhunt for you and in his bullshit idea of getting medical treatment behind bars.”
You vaguely realized you kinda had the same view of them in 1996…Was that wrong? Was it right? Your brain feels foggy at the moment to decide.
Stu added, “Whatever him and Gale say? Deny that shit, man. Jill and you agreeing as the survivors that were there are the only things anyone needs. Let's just pray there's no trial from the naysayers.”
“We avoided our faces to hospital cameras and nurses will probably give multiple descriptions of the chaos that night.” Billy huffed, “Should've killed the one bitch we stole the keys from. Damn.”
Stu nodded, “Yeah, just glad Dewey was slow as fuck and didn't handcuff us before we woke up. We were two victims that escaped the same night YN did and even as the killers the cops are hunting; if she gives a false description it buys everyone time.”
“No shit.” Billy looked at you in the dark backseat with his mirror. “It's this or die of infection, YN. Your choice.” Billy gave his fingers clenching and unclenching the wheel tensely.
This was happening…This was actually happening. “But…People saw? What if…I mean what if they describe you both?”
“Change our look and lay low if this doesn't work.” Billy gave.
“Done it before. I think I might do a Slim Shady look. You know, bleach blonde and buzzed?...No?” Stu asked and Billy shook his head. “Well fine then. I'll figure it out.”
“But your movies?” You mumbled tiredly curled up in a shaky painful ball in that blanket in the backseat. “Scooby doo?...Oh no…People are gonna know you.” You felt light headed the more the hour went by.
Billy sided eyed Stu. “What?” He asked the man in the passenger seat. “What's she talking about?”
“Man, she's really out of it huh? Scooby doo? Of all things, why say that? Whew, she is not in her right mind.” He nervously chuckled.
“The movie when you played Shag-”
“YN, you're really burning up girl!” He made a show of turning around to feel your head. “You're delirious!”
Billy continued side eyeing Stu but said nothing.
You knew Stu played Shaggy in a movie, right? You and Dewey, no, Randy that's right…Yeah you watched it…With the kids…
Stu snapped his fingers as your eyes wanted to close, “Ah ah. Try and stay up for now. We're getting there, Sweetcheeks. Just hang on.”
—————————————
That morning the still active Sheriff of Woodsboro got a call and he shot up out of bed and had been wrung tight ever since. Dewey was floored. Absolutely outraged, a very rare emotion for him.
Even more so with his wife trying to stop him.
“Would you calm down!?”
“YN!” He stammered, too upset to form sentences. “She arrived at the hospital this morning! I gotta get there in case she runs.”
Gale pushed him back with annoyance, “You aren't doing that and she's so sick . Where is she running? Huh?”
“I don't know! I don't understand why she came back.” He exclaimed frantically “And you!” He accused her with a pointed finger. “You visited Jill behind my back? Why would you do that!? AND went into our evidence room at the precinct for the case I specifically told you not to be involved in!”
“Because she's guilty, Dewey!” Gale yelled in frustration, hands clawing the air as they argued. “She is the killer and I need YN to cooperate and tell us everything she knows so we can get Jill locked up and do actual justice. If that means her ass too, so be it. Two birds, one stone. But we can't go in there hot headed.”
“Justice is Billy and Stu locked up! Not a teen we have no proof of! Not even…” He yelled but faltered at your name while walking to their kitchen. They rarely argued because Dewey usually backed down. But not this time. Not over this.
“There's plenty of proof!” Gale followed him. “If you did your job-”
He glared at her. That definitely hit an ugly sore spot in him.
“You know what I mean, damn it! You signed off this case because you just gave up and in a few days you're retired. With how you're acting now, you are getting too personal with this case and you're blinded so that's probably for the best…I guess! I don't know anymore!…And where do you come off yelling at me? YOU'RE the one that hid photos of YN and those two from me not just for a whole decade but this recent incident too!”
“Because I know how you are. I know how much you love a new headline, how obsessed you were with the case, and I knew how much you secretly didn't like YN and only liked her for me. You would use it against her without any proof.” He bluntly gave.
“OH! And you won't? I was right too, now wasn't I?” She urged mockingly.
Dewey scoffed and to Gale's surprise; went to the kitchen. Once there, he got out the Whiskey they had in the bottom cabinet collecting dust from no use.
Dewey replied, “That's the answer, huh? Gale was right and Dewey is a giant moron. How dare Dewey be upset that YN lied. How dare Dewey be torn over her involvement. How dare Dewey try to protect liars all these years. We just…Accept it! Billy and Stu got away, YN could go to any hospital and she came here after I gave her ample warning, justice isn't served, people died in vain including our friend…And all you can do is think of a good story to spin about a teen girl-” He humorlessly laughed, rubbing his face with a wry smile.
Gale eyed him, “And is that the answer? Drinking at 10 in the morning?”
“Gale. Please.” He sighed out rubbing his face as he took a swig.
Gale glared, “How about you get up and instead of being upset YN is back you question her and Jill and see who's lying!?”
“Why bother? Billy Loomis and Stu Macher are out there and YN knows it and she won't admit it and there's no way to prove it…Randy's killers got away. Sidney's killers got away. Tatum's…”
He went to read a magazine and Gale jerked it away, “So you're just gonna sit like a bump on a log and scratch your ass and act numb now? You were demanding to go out that door 5 minutes ago!”
He almost pouted, “Yeah well, that was before my wife didn't support me. No one else will believe me either and the one person that should have my back in this can only care about a story.” He took a swig with a bitter tone to his voice.
“You know what? Fine!” Gale groaned in irritation and got her purse, “Seriously, just sit there and drink and feel sorry for Tatum and yourself instead of actually solving what you can at the moment and do something to put this killer away THEN those two pieces of shit!”
He glared and gripped the bottle tighter at Tatum's name being dropped as Gale slammed the front door. He wanted to rush out and argue with her, he wanted to send a nasty text to her at the very least but…He just sighed in defeat.
A pang in his heart because deep down inside he was relieved you were okay yet he was devastated and hurt and angry that you came back and that those two were nowhere to be found. According to Judy you were just dropped off alone feverish and not making sense at the hospital and the hospital couldn't disclose information or go against HIPAA without a warrant or subpoena which they did not have right this moment with no court case in the works but may have to get… Most of all, Jill had suddenly changed her tune that you attacked her by accident thinking it was them…Suddenly, she was happy you were back and swore you didn't attack her on purpose according to Judy?? And she just accidentally got in the crosshairs of you and those two? It was a direct lie that contradicted what he and Gale saw. You had protected Billy and wanted Jill to be shot! Jill…She's lying?
Why would she lie? Why did her story change?...Was Gale right?
Dewey clutched his head with a pitiful whine. He had cried so much his eyes were puffy from crying and lack of sleep the last 2 days. And he felt…Numb. Helpless. He didn't want to see you again because it hurt too much.
————————————
You woke up that evening much more aware while hooked up to an IV dripping, a hospital gown, new bandages. It took a moment to even remember where you were and when you did you laid back with a groan. God no.
“Oh... Woke up, dying star?”
You jolted despite your wounds at Jill of all fucking people in the corner of the room. Her face still injured but healing.
“Reellaaxxx. I know you're scared from the other night but you're safe! I came here as soon as I heard you made it back.” She dipped down and whispered in your ear, “You're so goddamn lucky cops are right outside monitoring us…Or I'd finish what I started by choking you till your eyes pop.”
You sneered, “What-”
“Shut up and listen. I don't have time.” She hissed low for only you to hear. “Our stories have to line up in this last ditch effort…Charlie and those two did all the killings. Repeat it.” You stubbornly faltered, feeling rage just with her near you. You gasped as she pressed on your wound lightly. “Repeat it, bitch. No one is gonna believe your story without mine.”
“...Charlie and…” You hesitated.
“I will go out there and tell them it was you. Then kill Dewey and Gale and Karla and maybe even those brats too and blame it on those idiots; now say it!” She growled out low in your ear; only you two could possibly hear.
You swallowed and scowled, stomach turning at the words leaving her mouth. “Charlie…And…Those two men were the killers.”
“You don't know them. If you were dumb enough to text-”
“We called that night.” You reluctantly gave in. “My mechanic and an unknown I can just label as a friend of a friend I never named. At worst they were…Booty Calls or drug dealers or something.” You gave with resignation and tiredness with such a severe infection.
She grinned, “Oh not completely stupid then. Okay, we don't know them…Repeat-”
“We don't know them.” You closed your eyes and gritted your teeth at your arm practically being twisted. “Dewey has a picture of us at a motel though.”
“Who cares? It's that wash up that failed everyone versus you. Play stupid and say that you didn't say because they were quick fucks and you felt ashamed or some shit. Now hurry up. They were working with Charlie.”
“They were working with Charlie. Two men. Don't know them.” You forced out through gritted teeth.
“They attacked us in the ICU following me when I went to visit to finish us both off. You attacked me thinking it was them.”
You sneered but forced yourself to repeat it.
“They kidnapped you as a hostage but got scared and dropped you off when they thought the cops were getting a hold of them. One has dark hair, a hooked nose, blue eyes and the tall one has reddish hair, a tooth gap and…A tattoo on his right shoulder. Yeah a dragon...They blindfolded you most of the time so you couldn't see.” She made up the lie on the spot like a natural.
You tried to keep up repeating what was important. Hooked nose…Blue eyes…Red hair…Tattoo of dragon on right shoulder.
“You and I tried to fight for each other. Dewey and Gale are liars.”
You were silent and she pressed on your torso. You couldn't even call for help or she'd twist the story to make herself the victim, something the media already spun. “They're liars!...Damn you.” You rushed out in a hiss of pain.
“But bitch, the limelight is mine. You better watch your ass after this because-”
Jill jerked away as a nurse came in and she put on the sweet act hugging you, “Oh God, I was so worried! We all were…” She whispered, “I'm so glad you're safe…Right now.”
You didn't hug her back. Feeling disgusted, enraged, guilty, in physical pain, ill. You almost wanted to just say screw the plan and go to prison for a few years for hiding criminals if it meant she was locked up for life. But then you thought of Billy and Stu…Goddamn it, since when were you attached to those killers?!
Jill pulled away pretending to wipe an imaginary tear from her eye as the nurse smiled. All you could do was replay the information over and over in your head. Anxious, sick with sepsis and eager to just be done with all of this for good. Jill left with the nurse while eyeing you…
This was Hell.
—————————
Gale leaned against the wall as Dewey paced the hospital hall, having decided to force himself to go with her. His leg injury gave him a bit of trouble. Gale WANTED to tell him it was the liquor and lack of sleep or lack of a good diet making it mess up again but kept it to herself.
Judy came out and sighed, “Sheriff, she didn't see two men there. Charlie stabbed her in the backyard while YN went to go find Jill and that's all she knows.”
“Damn it.” Dewey groaned, rubbing his face.
Judy, ever the ass kisser in Gale's eyes, told her retiring superior. Judy's eyes wide and trying to be helpful as she assured, “I was shot by one! I believe you even…Though I'm confused how it could be who you say, Sir?”
“Billy Loomis and Stu Macher!-”
Gale shhed him aggressively and shooed him away from Judy as Judy reluctantly let her. Once Judy was out of ear shot, thankfully getting a report from another Deputy. Gale hissed at Dewey, “Are you insane? Shut up! No one is going to take you seriously or this case if you go voicing those names aloud.”
“Yeah, well it's a fact.” He grumbled. “I'm just glad we got Kirby to a hospital that no one knows she's at but her folks.”
“Because of Jill.” Gale voiced.
Dewey rolled his lips and corrected, “After what happened to Jill… She needs protection.” He pointed to the room and Gale rolled her eyes at her husband.
The ex-journalist debated interviewing the stabbed teen but…No. Her story hasn't changed not even once. Charlie acted stabbed, then replicated Steven Oarth, she went to go help him, he faked it and stabbed her. No names or others she saw. She was clueless and a dead end. She didn't even seem to hint at Jill or YN being Ghostface.
Gale mumbled, “Fact or not, you can't have a damn manhunt for two killers that on record are reported dead.”
“Bodies were never found, the door kicked from the inside, footprints, tire tracks, Tim and James matching-”
She replied, “They'll tell you the house was too destroyed for bodies and yes even bones, door burst open from heat, footprints were from chasing people, tire tracks could've been anyone, Tim and James was only described by YN. Tim vaguely by Randy, ya know, two traumatized teens. One was previously medicated for PTSD induced hallucinations. Oh, and two Detectives that are now dead from 13 years ago that the court could argue had just a vague sight of these men and were feeding into teen hysteria.”
“And us!” Dewey exclaimed in exasperation and desperation. “Why are you acting like you didn't claim to see them at Windsor!? You were on stage and swore to me; your story never changed. We saw them and heard them and talked to them the other night. It was them!”
Gale scoffed, “And who's gonna believe us!? I've been down this road, Dewey! A reporter that lost a case over this years ago and her husband… Who…” She faltered.
“...Say it.” He demanded. Dewey's downturned brown eyes stared at her. “Just say it. Failed. He failed. So much so that he's retiring.”
“More like, they'll try saying…Look, I'm not saying it but I know they will that…He never got over ‘96 and the death of his sister and her friend weighed on him enough that now he's seeing Ghost like YN did-” Gale sighed with an eye roll and followed after him as he stalked off amidst her sentence. “Dewey!”
“Let's just get to YN and Jill.” He mumbled as they both made their way to the car.
AHHH, it finally happened! The Stu kiss! And Jill is still alive, which makes me so happy because killing her off was one of the dumbest decisions ever 🙄 Love everything about this chapter ❤️
This entire episode with them was just one of the most intense and hottest scenes I’ve ever watched. And props to Kassie Depaiva and Roger Howarth for proving that older couples can be hot too, it doesn’t always have to teens and twenty-somethings!
I couldn’t resist using this scene. I love this speech of Todd’s and, even though he has a few that I also love, this one sticks out because it’s one of the few time he actually tells Blair how he feels about her in the earlier years.
I just think this scene sums up TnB perfectly. A little bit too wild and a little bit too free. I love how Blair says they tame each other and love each other no matter what because that’s just very true to their relationship. I think this is Blair at her most honest, she’s not talking to another person with their own thoughts and opinions on her and Todd’s relationship, she doesn’t know that Todd’s behind her, she’s just expressing herself.
I debated between using Dorian for this one or yesterday’s but ultimately I don’t really consider Dorian a TnB enemy because she does love Blair even if hates Todd however I do consider her a third party solely because of how many times she inserts herself into their relationship.
Ah, Max Holden. I had to use Max for this prompt. I just feel like Max is the only enemy that actually gives Todd and Blair a run for their money and even gets the upper hand on them sometimes.
Ah, the scheme that started it all. It’s not a TnB scheme, Todd was decidedly not involved in this scheme but without this scheme we wouldn’t have TnB at all.
