Jacob leaves the scene of the crime. From the rooftop, the man himself watches. "You should've believed Jacob... now I will hunt you down.". He walks the alleys, he knows Jack is following him. "I know you're there Jack... the master of terror is afraid to show himself, is he?." He can feel him lurking through the shadowsâa predator watching him from the dark. "Stop hiding, you bastard," he hisses, fingers tightening around the handle of his blade.
Still, no footsteps echo backâno sign of life within the darkâsave for the faint sound of something breathing in the distance. Jack turns into a crowded alley with people dancing. He, guts a random person, everyone watches in horror or runs away. "Come on you monster! Let's be done with this!." he exclaims, running from the crowd and down another alley.
Jacob tears down the alley like a man possessedâhis cloak whipping around him like a storm. "You want me to see you?!". His voice echoes through the brick and mortar, challenging the night. "Come out of your damn shadows!"
Jack drags the dead corpse of his latest victim. "Stop!." Jacob shouts, making his presence known, "You want me, Jack? Come and kill me!."
This breaks out into a knife fight between the two. Jacob's blade flashes in the night, his eyes narrowed to slits, lips peeled back in a grim snarl. Jack mirrors himâa twisted, grinning parodyâdagger in his hand instead of a hidden blade. He's fastâfaster than Jacob remembers⌠and stronger too, with an uncanny speed in his strikes that makes Jacob stumble. Something's different. Something's... changed.
"How's Katherine?." Jack asks, "Maybe I should pay her a visit.â
"You stay the hell away from my wife," Jacob growls, voice lowâdeadlyâas he blocks another slash. Jack is able to overpower him, being much faster and stronger than him. Jacob drops a smoke bomb, blinding Jack and fleeing the scene. He ducks into shadows like a fox running from a hunter, disappearing into the night. Jack roars like a wounded bear and gives chase. But Jacob's already vanished. "Damnit!"
He gets on a wagon and flees down the road. Leaving Jack in the alley. Jack stands in the alley. Alone. Fuming. He grips his knife tight, knuckles turning whiteâand whispers to the empty air. "Next time."
In Crawley, the boys are asleep in the room. Katherine is in the library of Westhouse Manor. She looks through the books on the shelves. Unable to sleep, knowing her husband is out there, miles away in London hunting a dangerous man. The house is quiet. Soft moonlight seeps in through the windows, dancing across old books and worn furniture. And sitting by the old oak bookshelf, Katherine is a ghost, lost in shadow and memory.
She reads through a variety of books, mostly of the Brotherhood of Assassins.She sighs, and closes the book. She looks down at the floor, then she notices something, one of the boards on the floor is different from all the others. She presses her foot against it and it wobbles in place. She pushes against the board with her foot, the edge shifting aside with a soft creak. She glances aroundâchecking that the boys are still asleep. Then, she carefully pulls the board away. She finds a wooden box. It's locked. She is able to get it off, and opens it. She finds a small metal dagger.
The blade is cold in her handâsmall, but sharp. Not an ordinary knife. Etched along the hilt: a symbol sheâs seen before. An Assassinâs mark. But beneath itâfaint, almost hiddenâa second engraving.
âFor Katherine. When the truth returns.â Her breath catches. Jacob knew?
Did he leave this for her⌠or was it meant to be found only now?. And then she sees itâthe metal isnât just steel. Itâs laced with something darker⌠something older.
A hunterâs blade. A demon-killing blade. Forged by Winchester hands. "Oh GodâŚ"* she whispers. "He knew what I was all along.", There is no recorded history of Winchesters living in Crawley. The Winchesters have been around when England was Anglo-Saxon. When vikings invaded. They started in Winchester, England then relocated to Nottingham in the 15th to 16th century. He knew, and he still loved her.
She sits there, holding the dagger close. She can almost feel him holding herâhis warmth, his strength... his presence. And for one moment, in the stillness... she feels less alone in the dark. Katherine puts the dagger back in the box. Knowing that Jacob knew of her family all along.
She gently lays the box back underneath the floorboards, carefully shifting the old wood back into place. Then, she walks over to the desk⌠and takes a seat at the writing table. A moment later, she dips a quill pen into the inkwell, and begins to write. She begins to write to Jacob. She writes to him of Westhouse, the boys, and of the old books she found. Of the memories of the past, and the dagger that brought it all back. As if he was sitting beside her, she tells him everything.
In London, Jacob makes it back to their home. Grabbing papers and books from his desk. "Going somewhere Jacob?." Jack asks, he somehow made it to his home.
"Jack... you're sick." Jacob tells him. Jack looks over at the mantle behind Jacob, and sees a portrait of Katherine and their sons when they were toddlers. "Sick?" he tilts his head, a hollow smile spreading like cracks in stone. "No, I'm not sick.". His eyes lock onto the portraitâKatherineâs gentle gaze, the boys tucked close to her. He steps forward, slow and deliberate. "I've evolved.".
He tensesâbooks forgotten in his armsâas Jack lifts a gloved hand⌠almost touching the glass over Katherineâs face. "Such a pretty family you've made," he murmurs. "So warm. So... human.". Then his voice dropsâvenomous. "It will make breaking them so much more satisfying.â. He moves fastâhe always doesâbut this time? This time itâs personal. "You touch her," he growls, blade sliding from beneath his coat, "and Iâll bury you deeper than Hell ever could."
This causes another knife fight to break out between the two. He fights like a man possessed, his blade slashing through the air like lightning. Anger makes him quick and ruthless, every swing aimed to gut Jack. But this time, Jack is faster. Stronger. With a strength thatâs almost inhuman, he bats Jacob back like heâs flicking off a fly. He hits the floor hardâbooks flyingâstaring up into Jackâs eerie eyes. "Jack... we can fix you." He mutters, his voice pleading.
"Fix me? I am the solution!." He says, knife clenched in his hand, before swiping it down.
Back in Crawley, Katherine is still unable to sleep. She paces the library, restless as the boys sleep down the hall. The house is so quietâtoo quiet. The silence presses against her heart like a vice. She walks to the bookshelf and gently slides the secret panel asideâunable to resist the urge to take the dagger into her hands once more. She holds it gently, the light of the moon playing over the silver blade like a pale fire.
She stares at the dagger for whatever feels like hours. Samuel gets out of bed, feeling restless. He can't get that book out of his head. The idea of blood magic, black magic and white magic caught his eye. His mother's ancestors used to perform it. He tiptoes quietly toward the library door, careful not to wake James. He walks down the dark hallway in the moonlight, footsteps echoing like ghost steps. The library door is open, and he sees his mother inside. Sitting with a knife in her hand and a letter on the desk.
"Mother?." He asks softly to not startle her. Katherine looks up, startled at first. But relaxes when she sees itâs Samuel, not an enemy. "Couldn't sleep?" she asks, gently laying the dagger on the desk. He pushes the door open and steps inside. He shakes his head. "No." He approaches the table where she's at, "I couldn't stop thinking about that book you showed us earlier. What's blood magic? Or the magic your ancestors used to do?.â
Her expression changes at thatâa shadow across her face. But she takes a deep breath to compose herself. "Blood magic⌠is an ancient magic thatâs been lost for centuries. There are few records of it left."
"Itâs⌠not something to be taken lightly," she explains, choosing her words carefully.â "The spells are⌠very powerful. Very dangerous. And the cost? Itâs high."
"Did your ancestors ever do it?." He asks. That question seems to catch her by surprise⌠but she answers anyway.
"Some of them did. They used blood magic for different reasons. Some for protection. Some for vengeance.". She touches the dagger, eyes focused on the silver blade in the moonlight. "Others for power." The word is a whisper. "Is... our family... powerful?." He asks.
"Our family has a special legacy," she says carefully, choosing her words. "Our ancestors weren't weak." She looks at him, studying his face. She can read him like a book. "Why do you ask?"
He sighs, "I want to know more about our family... your side." She considers him for a moment. And then gestures to the seat across the desk. "Sit down if you want an honest answer."
"There was... another thing I saw in the book." He says, as he sits across from her, "Dreamers. Are they... like psychics?.". She sighs, "Dreamers are similar to psychics, yes, but they are also very different. Mary-Ann Winchester was one, she was the daughter of Gwendalyn Winchester."
He leans in, listening intently. There's so much he doesn't knowâso much he wants to know. "And she was... psychic?" he asks. "Like a witch?". She smiles faintly. "Similar, but not the same. You see, Dreamers... they can see things before they happen. They have powerful dreams that show them visions of the future."
"She spoke in riddles about the future." She adds. Samuel furrows his brow at that. "So⌠she made predictions?"
"No," she answers, shaking her head. "Not exactly. Mary-Ann's visions were more⌠like glimpses of something that could be. She saw possible futuresâoutcomes of the present. It was a rare gift. And a hard one to live with."
"Did anyone else have these abilities?." He asks.
"Not that I know of." She tells him, "It's a rare, and dangerous gift."
He nods, his brow still furrowed in thought. The more he hears, the more questions he has. "Dangerous? How?" he asks. "What's dangerous about seeing the future?"
"The outcomes." She tells him, "Many would think you're insane. Knowing the future. Knowing your future would drive you mad. Knowing you wouldn't be able to stop or change it... it wouldn't make a difference.â A silence falls between themâsoft, heavy. The fire in the library flickers low, casting long shadows like ghosts against the bookshelves.
"Imagine," Katherine says quietly, *"waking up from a dream that shows your own death⌠or the death of someone you love. And no matter what you doâhow fast you run, how hard you fightâit still happens.". She touches her temple lightly, as if remembering something distant.
"Thatâs what broke Mary-Ann in the end. Not demons or monsters. Her own mind.â, Samuel is quiet nowâheavy with understandingâand she sees it in his eyes: this truth wasnât just about ancestors long gone. It was a warning.
A silence falls between themâsoft, heavy. The fire in the library flickers low, casting long shadows like ghosts against the bookshelves. "Imagine," Katherine says quietly, "waking up from a dream that shows your own death⌠or the death of someone you love. And no matter what you doâhow fast you run, how hard you fightâit still happens."
She touches her temple lightly, as if remembering something distant. "Thatâs what broke Mary-Ann in the end. Not demons or monsters. Her own mind.â Samuel is quiet nowâheavy with understandingâand she sees it in his eyes this truth wasnât just about ancestors long gone.
It was a warning. "How do you know if you have these abilities?." He asks, "Do you have them?.â She doesnât hesitate, her slender fingers tracing the edge of the table, feeling the old wood beneath her touch. "No." she says quietly, *"I do not have them. ButâŚthey're more a curse than a blessing. Not always something you want to see."*
Samuel shakes his head, "Why?." She leans across the desk, her gaze even sharper now.*
"Because one would refuse to let a dream come true. If fate tries to show me my own death, I turn the page." Her eyes glint like fire in the dying light. "I defy what I cannot change, because change is the only true freedom. And it is my choice, my power, to do what I want with my future. Never let someoneâ or somethingâtell you otherwise."
He sits there, thinking about her words. He nods, "Okay.". He stands up from his chair, and is about to leave the library. "Can we go to Nottingham one day?." He asks before leaving the room. "To see where the Winchesters began?" She smiles faintly, warmth breaking through the shadows in her eyes. "Yes⌠one day. When the time is right."
She watches him at the doorâher son, so much older now in spirit than his years.
"Sleep well, Samuel," she adds softly. "And donât dream too deeply tonight."*
The words linger like a whisper on wind⌠half warning, half prayer. A few weeks have passed. Katherine hasn't heard from Jacob. Her worry starts to build. She sits at the window of Westhouse Manor, wrapped in a shawl, her fingers tapping absently against the glass. The sun has long since dipped below the hills, and Crawley lies quiet beneath a bruised twilight sky.
Sheâs re-read Jacobâs last letterâfolded and refolded so many times the paper is beginning to tear. It said only: âThe storm nears its end. Iâll return when it breaks.â But that was over ten days ago. No word since.
"Jacob," she whispers into the dark, "where are you?". And for the first time in weeks⌠she reaches beneath her pillow. Fingers close around cold metal. The dagger waitsâreadyâlike it knows whatâs coming.
Weeks turn into months. Unbeknownst to Katherine. Jacob's sister, Evie is brought to London via Inspector Abberline. Jacob had gone missing. She traveled from India to England.
Winterâs cold grips London hard when Evie arrives. Fog clings stubbornly to the cobbled streets like a blanket. Carriages rumble past in the dark, hooves echoing in the cold night like ghostly hoofbeats. It's an eerie city at the best of timesâbut tonight⌠It feels like a graveyard. An endless graveyard.
When Evie steps down from the carriage, she sees a familiar face waiting for her. "Miss Frye." Inspector Abberline greets her. She nods a greeting in return. Her face is drawn, weary.
"Inspector," she says, a small ghost of a smile in her eyes, "I trust you have news?". Abberline takes off his hat, eyes flickering over her face. "Not quite the reunion I'd hoped to have," he replies. "Though not entirely unexpected."
"Its the Ripper." He tells her, "I haven't heard from Jacob in weeks. I just hope Jack didn't get to him.â. His words bring a shadow to Evie's face. "No one has?"
Abberline shakes his head. "Not a word. It's like he just vanished.". A long silence fills the airâstrained, heavy. They both know what Jacob's sudden silence means. "You might have to ask around Whitechapel." He tells her, "Jack has been killing assassins disguised as prostitutes to stop him, but to no avail."
He sighs, "You might have to ask around the brothels. Since Jack lingers around them, and Jacob had been helping some of them get to safety.". Evie's expression hardensâjaw tightening beneath her veil, her grip firming on the handle of her parasol. Not just a fashion piece. Not here. Not now. "Then that's exactly what I'll do,"* she says coolly, voice like steel wrapped in silk.
"If Jack hides among the shadows of Whitechapel, preying on the vulnerable... then Iâll walk through every brothel door, alleyway and safehouse Jacob built.". She turns to face Abberline fully. "And if my brother still breathesâif heâs out thereâI will find him."
"And if he doesnât..." Her voice drops lowâdeadly calm. "Then I will finish what he started."
The wind howls through the square as Evie steps forward into Londonâs dark heart⌠a ghost in mourning black, returning not for vengeanceâbut justice. "I must get back to work." Abberline tells her. "Thank you, Inspector." She replies.
Evie goes about her business. She meets up with Nellie, one of Jacob's acquaintances. She mentions that he had a home in Whitechapel, but doesn't tell her that it's the same house he shares with Katherine and their sons. When Evie investigates the home. Finding blood on the floor, papers all over the floors. She sees the photo on the mantle of her and their boys.
The house is silentâtoo silent. She steps inside, her breath shallow as she takes in the chaos. Blood stains darken the floorboards near the hearth, smeared like someone tried to clean it and failed. Papers litter the roomâmaps of London, Assassin records, sketches of rooftopsâall scattered as if torn from Jacobâs hands mid-thought.
Then her eyes catch it: the portrait on the mantle. Katherineâher long black hair cascading over her shouldersâis seated with two young boys curled beside her. James and Samuel. The same Frye sharpness in their eyes⌠but something else too. Something older. Winchester blood runs strong in them.
"JacobâŚ" Evie whispers. Her fingers hover over the frameânot touching it yetâas realization crashes down like thunder. He didnât just fall in love. He built a lifeâone he never told anyone about. And now? Someone has shattered it. A quiet rage begins to burn behind Evieâs eyesâthe kind only a sisterâs heart can carry.
"Iâll find you," she vows into the stillness, "alive or deadâyou wonât vanish on me."
Outside, London weeps under cold winter rain... and somewhere deep within its bonesâthe Ripper smiles. She looks around more and finds letters in a drawer. All from a woman named Katherine. "Wait... is Katherine the woman in the photo?." She asks herself. "Is... Jacob married? He never mentioned it.â she kneels by the drawer, fingers tracing the name at the top of the letterâKatherine. She opens it. Jacobâs handwriting dances across the page, warm in a way sheâs never seen beforeâsofter, full of quiet love.
"My dearest Katherine, London grows colder, but my heart stays warm thinking of you and our boys. I hope we reunite soon. The storm ends here."
"Our boys?". Her breath catches. "He has children." A beat. Then another.
And Evieâraised on secrets, silence and dutyâfeels something unexpected: betrayal⌠but beneath it? Wonder. Jacobâthe reckless brother who mocked planning and dismissed family ties⌠built a home? A wife? Sons?
"All this timeâŚ" she murmurs, âand he never said a word." Not to her. Not to Henry. Not to anyone. She closes her eyesâand sees not just an Assassin in danger⌠But a husband. A father. And someone worth saving.
In the dark, eerie building of Lambeth asylum.
Jack had kept Jacob locked up in the cold dark basement. Keeping him for what felt like years.
A scar across his left eye. The place is being run by the dangerous patients and inmates. The air is thick with damp and rot. Rats skitter across cracked stone floors. Chains hang from the wallsâsome still bearing fragments of cloth, bone⌠and blood.
Jacob sits slumped in the far corner, wrists bound by rusted cuffs bolted into the wall. His coat is torn, face gaunt beneath the scar now etched across his left eyeâa brutal reminder of Jackâs first âgift.â. He doesnât speak. Not anymore. Not after months of whispers in the dark. Of Jack standing just beyond the barsâsmiling like a brother shouldâwith eyes that gleam like broken glass.
"They donât come for you, do they?" Jack had whispered only days before, "Not Evie⌠not Abberline⌠not even your precious Katherine."
"Youâve been erased.". But Jacob knows better. He feels itâdeep in his bones. Sheâd never stop. Katherine would burn London to ash if she knew where he was. And so he waitsâin silenceâin darknessâ One eye blind⌠But one is still sharp enough⌠To see vengeance coming when it knocks.
Characters: Jacob Frye. Katherine Winchester (OC). Nathaniel Winchester (OC). Wendy Winchester (OC). Theodore Winchester (OC). Philip Winchester (OC). Oliver Winchester (OC). Charles Winchester (OC). Francine Winchester (OC)
Word count: 5.6k
Warnings: Another flashback chapter. Winchester dinner party.
Previous chapters: [Previous chapter]
[August 1869]
Katherine is 2 months pregnant, due in the spring of 1870. She gets a letter from her mother, inviting her and Jacob to dinner at Winchester manor. "I don't know." Jacob says, his voice unsure "Your father doesn't like me."
She laughs softly, folding the letter away carefully. "Darling, my father doesn't like anyone. He still thinks I would've been better off married to some proper high-society lord instead of an Assassin. But he'd never try anything in front of Mother. It'll be fine.". She looks at him, meeting his eyes with a reassuring smile. "And besides, I'd like you to come with me. I want to tell my parents about the baby.â
Jacob nods, looking down at her baby bump. He places his hand over it, "Okay... we can go." He says reluctantly. Katherine gives him a soft smile, covering his hand with hers. She can feel the hesitation in his voice, the tension in his body. She knows how uncomfortable he is around her parents and the other nobles, but she also knows he'll go along with it for her. For their baby. "I promise it won't be that bad. JustâŚ" She hesitates, biting her lip. "Just try to be on your best behavior. Please?â
"I'm always on my best behavior." He says, giving her his cocky grin
She can't help the slight laugh that escapes her at the comment. She lifts her hand, poking his chest playfully. "No witty comments. No sarcastic quips. Just act like the charming, polite gentleman I know you can be.â
"I will do my best!." He says in a cheeky tone, while doing a cross gesture to his chest, "I promise.". She laughs again, shaking her head at him fondly. "You're a menace, you know that? I don't think I believe that for a second.". She gives him a teasing look, the edge of a challenge in her eyes. "Can you even keep yourself from making a comment the entire dinner?â
He shrugs, he smirks "I don't know."
"What do you think little one?." He asks her baby bump, "Do you think daddy can keep his thoughts to himself at dinner?."
Katherine smiles at the sight of him talking to her baby bump. He doesn't show it often, but he's actually quite sweet with her, talking to their child without any trace of his usual cocky charm. She runs a hand over the slight curve of her stomach, her expression almost wistful as she replies.
"I suppose we'll have to see, won't we? Maybe they'll have my sense of decorumâŚâ
Jacob chuckles, and then kisses the slight baby bump. "Any names?." He asks.
"For a boy... I was thinking of Samuel, James... for a girl." She pauses for a second, "I've always loved Gwendalyn."
Jacob considers the names for a moment, mulling them over in his mind. He likes them. They're classic, strong names, but there's a warmth in the way Katherine says the name Gwendalynâa certain wistfulness and adoration in her voice. He can't help but notice that it feels almost⌠familiar. "Gwendalyn, hm? Where'd you get that name from, love?â. Katherine smiles, "Its a strong Winchester name.... from hundreds of years ago... Gwendalyn Winchester was a fierce fighter during the 'Rising of the North' in 1569 my great great great great great great great great great great grandmother."
Jacob raises a brow, his gaze fixed on her. He'd always known the Winchesters were an old, powerful family, but her genealogy still surprises him. She never seems to run out of ancestors that are famous, powerful, or just damn impressive in general. He shakes his head in slight disbelief and just laughs.
"Damn, your family's just a never-ending list of heroes and legends, isn't it? I feel like I keep learning new stuff about your ancestry every day with you.â
She smiles at him, cupping his cheek, "And maybe Gwendalyn Frye will be a fierce assassin.â
Jacob laughs, but he leans into her touch, the warmth from her palm on his face making his expression soften. He covers her hand with his own, his thumb tracing the skin of her wrist almost absentmindedly. There's a hint of concern in his voice as he replies, the humor in his tone not quite able to mask the worry there.
"Let's maybe not wish for that, love. I'd rather our girl have a life less... well, less bloody.â
She chuckles, "Live a life of luxury? Wealth? Similar to my upbringing."
He snorts, giving her a quick grin. He knows exactly what her life was likeâa childhood of wealth, luxury, and pampering. A life of propriety and decorum, a life where the only worries she had were getting her needlework right or choosing the proper dress for a dinner ball.
"Maybe not quite that." *he replies, his voice dry.* "I'm damn sure you had a more comfortable childhood than I did.â
"A life of being pampered. Told how to sit like a lady and use a fork at dinner." She says sarcastically, "While you were being trained to be an assassin and getting into trouble.â. He snorts, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a smirk. He can picture her as a little high-society girl, with her proper manners and her perfect table etiquette. "Yeah, my idea of a good childhood was running through dirt and running from the local constables." *He grins down at her, the edge of a challenge in his gaze. "I'm sure I had ten times as much fun as you did when we were kids. You probably never even got a bruise.â
Katherine laughs, she knows he's right. She was expected to be a lady with manners, unlike her brothers. She was expected to give kindness, polite and to be a lady who wore the fanciest and most beautiful dresses to show off her high society status. Jacob can almost picture the scene, a young girl in a pretty dress surrounded by other wealthy high society girlsâall of them trying to act proper and lady-like.
He chuckles, shaking his head. He reaches out, twirling a strand of her soft hair between his fingers. "You probably even had to have your own personal etiquette teacher.â
"Her name was Agatha and she was a sweet lady." She tells him, laughing, "And don't forget, you have to be a high society gentleman for a few hours... think you can handle it?."
He groans dramatically, slumping back with a pained expression. "Agatha? Sounds like a woman who'd whack me with her parasol if I slouched at the table. A few hours of stiff collars, small talk, and silverware I donât know how to use?". He smirks, leaning in close to nuzzle her neck. "For you? Iâll endure it. But after dinner⌠youâll have to reward me for my good behavior.â
She gives him a look, her eyes narrowing, she has a feeling he's gonna want something for his good behavior if he's able to endure her high society family dinner. "What do you want?." She asks.
"Oh? Like what? Sex?." She asks, she knows he's gonna want it, if not then something else. What? She doesn't know.
Jacob's smirk becomes even cockier, if that's even possible. Of course, his first choice is going to be... that. "That would be a nice start, love. But there are other things. You're a smart girl, sweetheart. You'll figure it out."
He leans in, his lips soft against the sensitive skin of her neck. He murmurs the words, his voice low and rough with desire for her, his hand coming up to toy with one of the buttons on her dress. She stops him, "Well... you have to be on your best behavior, if you wanna get between my legs." She teases him.
He curses under his breath, his smirk shifting into a low growl. He's trying to be patientâto play along and follow the rules. But he can feel his body starting to respond to her words. He can feel the low, almost primal desire stirring in his blood.
"You're going to drive me damn insane, love." He says, his voice ragged as he pulls back from her neck, staring down at her with darkened eyes.
"With the dress I'm gonna wear at dinner, you're gonna want to push me into my old bedroom for some alone time." She tells him, "But... I'm sure you can handle yourself."
His eyes darken further, his thoughts immediately going to dirty places at the image of her in some fancy dress. His hand tightens, almost reflexively, around her hip. Damn it, this is going to kill him. He's already having a hard time holding back his desire for her.
"You think I'll be able to control myself, huh?" He says, his voice a low growl, barely concealing the desperation in his tone.
"And it's not gonna be a blue dress." She tells him, "I have a few that'll drive you crazy."
She smirks, she knows how to drive Jacob crazy.
Jacob groans, running a hand through his hair in almost frustrated arousal. He can practically see it in his mindâher in one of her fancy dresses, looking every bit the prim and proper high society lady. He's sure she'll look gorgeous. He wants her so damn badly it's driving him insane.
"You're doing this on purpose, you know." He growls, his body pressing against hers instinctively, the desire pooling in the pit of his lower abdomen.
"Go get dressed." She tells, she leans in and kisses him. "You won't see the dress until we get to the manor."
He pulls back from the kiss with a low, frustrated growl, his fingers tightening on her waist for just a second before he forces himself to let go. He shoots her a lookâhalf heat, half warning.
"Tease," he mutters under his breath as he stands, giving her one last smoldering glance over his shoulder.
"But when we're alone tonight? You'll be singing a different tune." With that, he strides off toward their room to change into something painfully properâalready counting the minutes until dinner ends and she's finally back in his arms. Katherine has some dresses already picked out. Dresses she had hidden away for an event like this. She has a long red velvet dress with lacy sleeves. A little off the shoulder. She goes through all of her dresses and finds one that will drive Jacob crazy. A long green silk dress with long lacy sleeves. Low cut, some cleavage showing. Off the shoulder. No modesty whatsoever. It hardly shows off her baby bump.
She has the perfect jewelry that'll go with the dress. Her hair is styled loose to show off her long jet black hair and styled a braid into it. She put on a long black coat to cover the dress so Jacob doesn't see it until they get to the manor. He tries to be the perfect gentleman the entire drive to the manor... but it's a damn near impossible task. He can barely keep his gazeâor his handsâoff of her. He knows she's hiding something underneath that coat she's wearing and his imagination is going wild, picturing her dressed up like a proper lady, making his blood run hot. He wants to rip that coat off her right here in the damn carriage. He knows he's in for a very, very long night.
They get to Winchester manor and are meted with some of the help.
Maids, servants and butlers that Katherine grew up with. They get into the manor. "Miss Katherine, may I take your coat." The Lady servant asks. "Of course." She responds with a smile, she unbuttons her coat, and gives it to her. Jacob sees the dress she's wearing. His breath catches the moment the coat slides off.
His sharp inhale is almost inaudible, but his entire body tensesâthe way his fingers flex at his sides, the sudden stillness in his stance. The green silk clings to her like moonlight on water, the off-the-shoulder drape baring just enough of her collarbone to be sinful. The deep cut teases a shadow of cleavage, elegant and daring all at once. Her hairâlong black waves threaded with a delicate braidâframes her face like a portrait of temptation. He doesnât blink. Doesnât move. Every bit of discipline he's mustered since that morning shatters in an instant.
"Bloody hell..." *he mutters under his breath, low and rough.* "You're going to kill me before dinner even starts."
He is frozen, seeing her in such a dress.
She takes his hand guiding him towards the dining room area. "Come on love.". Jacob follows her almost dazedly, his eyes still roaming over her. He can barely pay attention to where they're going, too focused on the way the dress hugs the curve of her hip, the way the silk clings to her waist, the long, exposed stretch of her neck. He wants to touch herâto press her into the nearest wall.
".... You're trying to drive me mad, aren't you?" He murmurs to her. She chuckles, she knows exactly what she's doing. Jacob shoots her a dark lookâhalf warning, half desire. He's supposed to be on his best behavior. He's supposed to be polite and courteous, not desperate and aroused. But it's almost impossible to control himself with her like thisâwith her dress clinging to every curve and her hair framing her face in a way that makes him want to tangle his hands into it... He swallows, forcing himself to look at anything other than her.
"You're a damn tease," *he mutters under his breath.*
Katherine can't help but smirk. She knows he has to be on his best behavior if he wants a little piece of her when they get back home.
He knows it too, and he hates it. He wants nothing more than to haul her off to some out-of-the-way corner to take the edge off. Instead, he's stuck playing the part of the proper gentleman, forced to endure what promises to be a painfully boring evening for the promise of a little private time with her later.
"You're playing with fire, sweetheart," *he murmurs, his voice gruff.* "I'm barely holding on here."
"Don't worry love... give it another few hours, if you're on your best behavior and I'll let you tear this dress off me." She teases.
She adjusts the dress, pulling it down to show a little more of her cleavage.
"Christ," he growls, stepping closer and grabbing her wristâgently but with a clear edge of desperation. "Keep playing games, and I won't wait until we get home. That dress wonât be the only thing getting torn." He leans in, lips grazing her ear.
"Behave⌠or Iâll forget all about being a good boy."
Katherine looks over at him, "Playing games of your own now?."
"You started it, love," he murmurs, eyes dark and unrelenting as they lock onto hers. "Now Iâm just playing by your rules. And if you keep looking at me like thatâlike youâre daring me to misbehaveâIâll win this game before dessert is served."
He gives her a slow, dangerous smirkâthe kind that promises chaos wrapped in charm. "Careful. You might get exactly what youâre tempting me with."
Before Katherine could say anything, she is greeted by her mother, Wendy. "Katherine! Its lovely for you to show.". He smoothly shifts from dangerously charming lover to proper gentleman in a heartbeatâstepping back just enough to give her space, straightening his jacket with a practiced ease. He offers Wendy a polite, if slightly roguish, smile.
"Wendy, always a pleasure." His voice is warm, respectful... but Katherine can hear the low thrum of impatience underneath.
He leans in just slightly toward her as Wendy turns to greet someone else, murmuring against her ear. "Saved by your mother. Lucky for you... but this game's not over.". Katherine chuckles, "We have a long night ahead." She teases. Jacob grins wolfishly at her words. Despite the frustration, he can't help the rush of heat that goes straight to his gut at the mental image her words conjured. The sight of her in her beautiful evening dress, the promise of a long night... damn it, being good is going to be torture. He glances over in her mother's direction, making sure she's not paying too close attention as he leans in again. "You have no idea, love. Don't forget, I always play to win."
She chuckles in response. A throat clears behind them, they look back and see Nathaniel, Katherine's father.*
"Katherine." He says in his deep, calm stoic voice.
"Father." She responds back. Jacob straightens as Nathaniel approaches, his expression and body language instantly shifting from easy confidence to something far more respectful. He's always intimidated by the elder Winchester, but now his gaze is practically reverentâalmost submissiveâas he takes a slight step back, putting a slight distance between himself and Katherine.
He knows the rules. No touching, no familiarity. Not with her family. And definitely not with Nathaniel. "Sir." He nods. "Pleasure to see you again."
Jacob knows Nathaniel doesn't like him, even at their wedding he showed up towards the end to give him his blessing to marry Katherine.
She knows how her father is. She knows he wanted her to marry Crawford Starrick or any one of his associates.
Nathaniel gives him a curt nod, his gaze cool and assessing. Despite the fact that Jacob has been married to his daughter for over a year now, he still doesn't fully approve of their union. He's too low classâtoo common. He's not the type of man Nathaniel would have ever picked for his precious daughter. "I see you're still... keeping my daughter entertained," he says to Jacob, the words both a question and a comment.
Katherine chimes in, "He treats me well... better than any other man would."
Something in Nathaniel's expression hardens at the comment. He shoots his daughter a sharp look. "I'm sure he does," *he responds, his tone still cool. His gaze flicks back to Jacob, eyes sharp and assessing.
"There are many men in London who would've been more suited for you. Who could have provided a much⌠smoother life."
"And none of them would've truly loved me." She tells him, "Starrick didn't even love me. He saw you as a pawn...-."
"Katherine." He says sternly, "I've made-.". Before he could finish his sentence, Wendy interrupts him. "Nathaniel," Wendy says firmly, stepping smoothly between them, her voice warm but laced with quiet authority. "Our guests are arriving. Shall we not start the evening with old debates?". She gives Katherine a soft smileâjust enough to ease the tensionâthen turns to Jacob, offering him a small nod of reassurance.
"Jacob, darling, you're looking quite dashing tonight. Try not to let my husband intimidate you.". He smirks at thatârelieved and grateful all at onceâbut keeps his mouth shut. He knows when to stay quiet. Still, he lets his hand brush against Katherine's for just a second. The game isn't over. It's only just begun. Wendy and Nathaniel move on to their other guests.
She sighs in relief, "Guess my father still isn't over me marrying you.". He snorts, his hand coming to rest at her hip with almost protective affection. "He's never going to be over it, love. The man's too set in his ways."
He grins, giving her hip a slight squeeze. "You know I don't care about his opinion of me, anyway. I've given up on trying to win that battle. He's never going to like me."
They get seated for dinner. Katherine and Jacob are seated next to each other. Her brother Theodore and his wife Elizabeth are seated across from them. Nathaniel is seated at the head of the table. Wendy next to him on his right.
Philip, Katherine's 2nd eldest brother, who is also an alcoholic, is seated next to Jacob on his left. Oliver, her 3rd eldest brother is seated next to Katherine to her right. Charles, the youngest of her and her siblings is next to Theodore. Jacob takes his seat beside her with practiced ease, but the moment Philip slumps into the chair on his other sideâsmelling faintly of gin and bad decisionsâhis jaw tightens.
Across the table, Theodore eyes him with polite skepticism, while Oliver gives Katherine a warm smile. Charles is too busy sneaking bread rolls into his napkin to care about anything. Under the table, Jacobâs hand finds Katherineâs thighâjust a light brush at first, then a slow squeeze.
âRemind me to stay sober,â *he murmurs low enough only she can hear,* âsince someone clearly didnât.â. He glances at Philip with narrowed eyes before flashing her a wicked half-smile.
âThough I doubt your father would mind if I got just as drunk⌠might make this tolerable.â
Katherine gives his a slight side eye as he squeezes her thigh. She knows he feels out of place with her family. "You know I can't be drinking... for obvious reasons." She says in a hush tone, hinting at her pregnancy only for him to hear. Jacobâs hand stills on her thigh, his smirk softening into something warmerâmore private. He leans in just enough so his breath brushes her ear, voice low and rough with promise. âNot for me either, then. Youâre not the only one who wants to keep this night from going up in flames.â
He pulls back slightly, meeting her eyes as the corner of his mouth liftsâno longer teasing, but full of quiet understanding. âIâll behave⌠for you. But donât think that means Iâm not counting every second until weâre alone.â. As the small chitchat commences, the dining room door opens. Its Katherine's grandmother, Francine. The one who convinced Nathaniel to 'stop being a bloody idiot' and attend hers and Jacob's wedding enters the dining room.
"Apologies for my tardiness." She says out loud, "Bloody constables have streets blocked for the Prime Minister.". She takes a seat next to Elizabeth. "Nathaniel, you have Scotland Yard in your back pocket, tell them they donât need to block off the streets every time the Prime Minister wants to take a shit in a pub."
Her comment makes Charles laugh, as well as Katherine. Nathaniel shifts in his seat, "Mother, so glad you could join us for dinner."
Jacob tries to hide a smile at Francine's remarkâthe old woman is as blunt and charming as ever, and he can't help but like her. But he keeps any comments to himself. It won't do any good to endear the family matriarch. He takes a sip of the wine in front of him, trying to hide his grimace. He's never liked wineâno matter how expensive it is. He turns, catching the hint of a smirk on Katherine's face and he can't help but give her a knowing look.
This is going to be a long night. "So, why are we gathered here Nathaniel?." Francine asks, taking a sip of her wine, "What is new in the world of politics, and aristocracy?.â
She was never one of politicians, aristocrats and high society families, despite marrying into one.
Jacob takes another sip of the wine, listening as Nathaniel launches into a long- winded speech about the current affairs of London and England as a whole. He's only paying half attention the entire time, his mind and gaze too distracted by the beautiful woman sitting beside him.
His hand is back on her thigh, his thumb rubbing slow circles into her fleshâalmost absentminded, almost innocent. But his touch is warm. Intimate. Almost a whispered promise of what's to come later. As Nathaniel and his mother exchange words, the butlers and servants bring the food to the table. Settling it in front of everyone.
Rich, high society people may be the worst, but they do have fantastic food.
Jacob leans back, watching the elegant display of food with a slightly hungry expression. He's never seen anything quite like it. The fine china, the silver cutlery, the perfectly laid out place settings. And the food. Damn, the food. Everything looks amazing from the duck to the potatoes to the wine. He knows better than to ask what half of it is. The names all sound strange in his mouth anyway.
The only thing that has his stomach growling more than the food is the woman sitting next to him in that damn beautiful green dress. As they're eating, Francine turns her attention to Jacob and Katherine. "How long has it been since you two have been married?." She asks, "A year? 10 months?."
"A year." Katherine answers.
"Any thoughts for children?." She asks, curiosity in her voice. "Any great grandchildren for me that are gonna be Winchester-Frye?."
Nathaniel shoots a side eye at his mother. For a split second, Jacob's hand on Katherine's thigh goes still. But he catches himself, and his hand resumes its circular motionâunfazed. He can't help the small, confident smirk that flickers across his face. He's always had a sort of cocky arrogance about him, and he knows he's not afraid of a little question like that from the matriarch. Hell, he's proud of the fact that they're expecting.
"Actually⌠we are expecting.". The sound of utensils dropping onto the plates. The silence is so loud, everyone looks at them.
"Yes, Jacob and I are expecting." Katherine tells them, her hand on her belly.
All eyes are on them as the announcement settles over the table. Nathaniel's gaze is sharp and disapproving, his jaw tightening as the news sinks in. Philip is just staring, mouth slightly open, eyes wide. Meanwhile, Francine is nearly vibrating with barely contained joy, her wrinkled face breaking into a wide smile. She's clearly the most excited.
"A great grandchild. Wonderful news.". Jacob can't help the sense of pride and satisfaction that floods through him as she confirms it. He wants to put a possessive arm around her. Pull her close against him and make it clear that she and this baby are his. But he restrains himself, if only barely. He's not going to cause a scene here. Not in front of the whole family.
He does, however, shoot a smug look at Nathanielâjust because he knows it will annoy the older man knowing his little girl had sex with this low status commoner.
Jacob's subtle smirk doesn't go unnoticedânot by Nathaniel, and not by Francine. She has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing out loud at the expression on her son's face. It's no secret that Nathaniel hasn't approved of the marriage since the start. This has to be killing him. From his side of the table, Philip's eyes are still wide. "You're⌠really expecting a child." He seems stunned. "That's⌠unexpected."
"What do you mean?." Katherine asks. Philip shifts in his seat, still looking completely uncomfortable. He glances briefly at Nathaniel, who looks as if he's about to explodeâhis face is as red as a tomato and he's gripping his glass of wine so hard his knuckles are white.
"Well⌠I just⌠you've only been married for a year." *He glances quickly at her somewhat flat stomach.* "And you're⌠expecting."
"I'm a few months pregnant." She tells him, her tone defensive. Jacob's hand on her thigh tightens slightlyâprotective, possessive. He doesnât bother hiding the low hum of satisfaction in his throat as he finally speaks up, voice smooth as aged whiskey.
âFew months in, and already the best thing thatâs ever happened to me.â He turns his head just enough to meet Philipâs gaze, unflinching. âUnless youâve got a problem with that?â
The challenge hangs in the airâlight, almost playful on the surface, but underneath? Pure steel. He wonât let anyone make her feel small about this. Not her brother. Not even her father.
Across from them, Francine takes another slow sip of wineâeyes sparkling like sheâs watching a particularly satisfying play reach its climax.
Theodore clears his throat, "I apologize for my drunken brothers behavior.... he's not the brightest one of us.". Philip shoots his older brother a glare.
"Thats why he drinks." He adds. Oliver chuckles under his breath at that. Charles just grins.
Across the table, Francine is still fighting back laughter, enjoying this little back and forth more than she should. She knows exactly what Philip is like⌠it's just entertaining to see him so riled up for no reason. Not to mention, she likes watching the young couple at Jacob and Katherine handle themselves. They're definitely not intimidatedâwhich she can appreciate.
And then there's Nathaniel. He looks like a boiling kettle on the verge of blowing. "Okay." Nathaniel says under his breath, "This conversation is going nowhere."
"And where should this conversation be heading to?." Francine asks.
That gets a snort of laughter from across the table. Oliver quickly covers it with a cough before anyone notices. Philip is still sulking, but he at least has the sense to keep his mouth shut for now. Nathaniel shoots a glare at his mother. "It's just⌠an unexpected change. A child so early is⌠it's not proper." *His tone is clipped and disapproving. He sounds like he's still trying to wrap his head around the entire thing.*
"It was no different when we got married and had Theodore." Wendy chimes in. "Would you say the same thing if Katherine married that Starrick man?."
Francine chuckles at the ideal of her granddaughter marrying that man.
Nathaniel bristles even more at the thought, his eyes narrowing. Jacob smirks at the expressionâhe can't help enjoying the man's obvious distress. He knows it's probably a bad idea to be making the family patriarch angry⌠but he's enjoying every second of this. "That man was in the aristocracy. A fine noble." *He responds crisply.* "This man is... a street rat."
"And that 'street rat' is a better match for Katherine than Crawford Starrick would ever." Francine tells him, her tone defensive for her granddaughter and her husband.
Her attention to Nathaniel, "I knew men like him. Your father was exactly like him, then he met me and I made his ass come back to reality."
That definitely shuts Nathaniel up. Oliver stifles a laugh into his drink while Charles just straight-up grins. Even Philip looks a little more amused now. But it's Jacob who looks the happiestâhis hand slipping back to her thigh to give it a soft, knowing squeeze. Jacob knows exactly what the feisty old matriarch is doing⌠and he loves her for it.
Francine sits back in her seat, satisfied, watching as Nathaniel scowls at his wine glass. The rest of dinner goes on silently. Everyone is focusing on the food in front of them.
Jacob eats in relative silence, his mood still light as he takes a moment to relish the fact that he and Katherine have managed to ruffle the family patriarch's feathers, even as everyone else seems a bit unnerved by the tension. His hand stays on her thigh under the table, his thumb rubbing slow, almost idle circles into her flesh, his gaze flickering over her every so often to take in the sight of her in that damn dress.
Dinner finishes, and out comes dessert. *Jacob leans back with a smirk as the dessert is brought outâsomething rich and decadent, no doubt. He glances at Katherine, his fingers still tracing idle circles on her thigh beneath the table.*
âDessertâs sweet,â *he murmurs low enough for only her to hear,* âbut not half as sweet as you.â He winksâcheeky, unrepentantâand finally lets his hand rise to rest lightly on the back of her chair, a quiet claim in plain sight. Let them all stare. Heâs not hiding anything tonight.
Katherine can't help but laugh at his comment. "You're too much." She says softly.
Jacob grins wider at her reaction, his hand shifting from the back of her chair to her bare shoulder. He knows the family is watching themâprobably disapproving of the casual display of affection⌠and he doesn't care. The touch is intimate, possessive. Almost as if marking her as his own in front of the whole room.
"Too much?" he says with a smirk.* "You love it."
She knows her family is divided on her marriage to Jacob. Her father and Philip are definitely on the same side of disapproving the marriage. While Wendy, Francine, Theodore and his wife Elizabeth, Charles and Oliver are on the same side approving of their marriage.
His hand on her shoulder is warm, his fingers playing with a loose strand of her jet-black hair. He knows exactly what she's thinkingâcan practically feel the weight of her family's divided opinions in the air.
"Let them disapprove," he murmurs against her ear, voice rough and low.* "They don't get to write our story.". He pulls back just enough to meet her eyes, his smirk softening into something quieterâsomething real. "You chose me. That's all that matters." Katherine smiles at him. Not caring if her family stares. She loves Jacob, and is happy to be carrying his child.
Jacob returns her smile, his expression soft and warm. She looks beautifulâalmost radiant in the low light of the dining hall, that green dress like a second skin on her figure. And her eyes... damn, those eyes. They just look even darker than usual tonight. He wants to pull her into his lap and kiss her senseless in front of the entire table. Make a statement about exactly whom she belongs toâbut he manages to restrain himself, barely.
Katherine sees him staring at her, longer than he usually does. She chuckles, "What is it?."
"You," he says simply, voice rough but warm. "Just thinking how you managed to steal the most dangerous man in London and then go and make him... domestic."
His thumb brushes her jaw, calloused but tender. "Should've seen me before you, loveâchaos in boots. Now?" He smirks, "Iâm building a bloody empire just so our kid has the best of everything.". A beat. Then quieterâonly for her. "Worth every damn rule I broke to get you.". As they're sharing their moment, from across the table, Nathaniel gives them a side eye, Wendy gives him a glare, he sees his wife give him the look. No words were exchanged between them, but that look tells him a million things.
Jacob catches the look and gives a subtle, insolent smirk in Nathaniel's direction, keeping his hand on Katherine's shoulder and his body language as close to her as he can. It's one last small act of disrespect, one more challenge sent in the patriarch's direction - a wordless reminder that he's not going anywhere. He might not be the aristocrat Nathaniel would have picked for his precious little girl, but she's his. And everyone in that room damn well knows it.
He leans in to kiss Katherine on the lips, in a way taunting Nathaniel. He wants to react but Wendy shuts him down with her glare. Jacob smirks against Katherine's lips, relishing in the fact that he's getting exactly the reaction he wanted. He keeps the kiss briefâhe's not here to be a complete assâbut the message is clear. She's his. And all his smug arrogance is on full display as he pulls back, keeping his hand on her shoulder. Across the table, Nathaniel is practically burning a hole in them with his stare, jaw tense and white-knuckled around the stem of his wine glass. Katherine is oblivious to her father glaring at them, she's focused on her dessert and Jacob. He watches her for a momentâher quiet enjoyment of the dessert, the way her lips part just slightly as she takes another bite. Heâs captivated. Not by the food, but by her. He leans in again, this time to whisper against her ear, voice low and warm with amusement.
âYou taste better than any of this fancy sugar.â
His fingers trail lightly down her arm before settling at her waistâpossessive, tender. Let Nathaniel glare all he wants. Jacobâs not hiding a damn thing. Her cheeks flush red, "You're too much." She chuckles softly, wiping her mouth with a napkin. Jacob grins at the sight of her flushed cheeks, the color rising in them making him feel a little cocky. He reaches forward, swiping off a tiny speck of icing left behind on her bottom lip with his thumb.
He brings it to his mouth, licking it off with a satisfied humâall the while still watching her through his lashes.
"No such thing," he murmurs, voice rough but warm. He gives her hip a small squeeze, a possessive little reminder in a room full of disapproving eyes. She leans in close, and whispers, enough for him to hear, "I have to admit, you behaved, surprisingly good this evening. So, I guess I have to reward you when we get home." Jacob's eyebrows go up as she leans in close, her voice soft in his earâalmost a caress. His hand on her hip tightens instinctively, his heart picking up speed at the thought of her reward. His eyes drop down to her lips as he replies in a low-rough voice.
"Is that so? And how exactly do you plan on 'rewarding' me for all my... good behavior?"
"Whatever you want." She whispers. A smirk on her face, indicating that his reward will take place in the bedroom. Jacob feels his breath catch in his throat at the thought, heat coiling in his gut at the promise in her words. His gaze flits across her face, taking in that wicked little smirk on her lips, the mischief in her eyes... she's a damn tease. Always has been. He lets out a low growlâso low it's almost a vibrationâhis hand tightening on her hip again.
"Careful, sweetheart." *he murmurs, voice gravelly and rough. "I might just ask for something that'll exhaust you tonight.â. The dinner party wraps up after dessert. Everyone grabs their coats. Katherine says her goodbyes to her parents and brothers. Jacob lingers by the carriage, waiting for her.
Jacob leans against the carriage, one boot propped behind him, hands tucked into his coat pocketsâcool, composed, but his eyes betray it all. Theyâre dark with want as he watches her say her goodbyes. When Katherine finally steps toward him in her long black coat and that soft flush still on her cheeksâhe pushes off the carriage with a slow smirk. âReady to go home?â he asks, voice low and warmâbut laced with meaning. He doesnât offer his arm. No. Instead, he steps close as she passes by and brushes his hand down the length of hers before taking it possessively in his own. Let every last Winchester see exactly who she belongs to now.
Characters: Jacob Frye. Katherine Winchester (OC). Samuel Frye (OC). James Frye (OC). Nellie. Frederick Abberline.
Word count: 1.8k
Warnings: mentions of death.
Previous chapters: [previous chapter]
The Ripper has killed another female assassin in disguise as a prostitute to stop him. Overpowering her.
Jacob's breath stills as he crouches beside the bodyâher hidden blade partially drawn, her knuckles bruised from fighting to the end. She wasnât just any Assassin. She was one of hisâtrained in the shadows, sent to track Jack not as a killer⌠but as family.
And now sheâs broken in an alley like trash. "Damn it!" He slams his fist into the wet cobblestones, blood mixing with rain under his fingers. This isnât war. This is desecration. The Ripper didnât just kill her. He made a message out of her.
Abberline steps back, shaken. "He knew she was coming." Jacob rises slowly, voice lowâdangerousâas he stares into the fog where no answer waits:
"He knows us. Our movements⌠our hearts."
"...Because I taught him both." The words written in thick red on the cracked stuccoâa warning from Jack the Ripper himself to the man staring at it.
A message sharp and cruel. "No one is safe from my wrath." Jacob stands, rain rolling off his cloak, face a stone mask.*
"Neither are you.â he whispers back. And with a last glance at his fallen apprentice. Jacob disappears into the fog.
Weeks have passed. Jacob and Katherine wrote to each other everyday for those several weeks. Every murder much more gruesome than the last.
The letters between themâtucked inside coat pockets, pressed between old books, read by candlelightâcarry the weight of unsaid fears. His handwriting grows sharper with each letter, ink blotted with rain or blood, she never knows which, his words clipped but still laced with love. âAnother night. Another shadow. Iâm still standing.â
Katherine writes back in her careful scriptâthe boys safe, Westhouse quiet, the necklace never off her skin, âCome home to us. Thatâs all I ask.â
Each morning brings a new horror in the papers. Each evening finds her burning those pages before James can see themâbefore he starts asking questions she doesnât want him chasing. But Samuel notices anyway.
"Fatherâs hunting something," he says one night. "Not just a man⌠something worse.". Katherine doesnât answer.
She only holds Jacobâs last letter tighterâand prays the next post brings hope instead of ash. Katherine curses under her breath. There's a lot he doesn't know about her, or her family.
She curses her father for not training her how to hunt like her brothers, like all Winchesters do. Hunting monsters. Jack the Ripper is no different from a demon.
She stands by the window at Westhouse Manor, the letter in her hand trembling slightlyânot from fear, but fury. Not at Jacob. Never at him. But at her father. In the years of "thatâs not for girls" and "youâll stay safe inside."
âJack isnât just a man," she whispers into the dark. "Heâs a beast wearing skinâjust like every demon my family has ever hunted."
Her fingers tighten around the edge of the letter. Jacob doesnât know she can track horrors too. That she once found a revenant beneath an old church in Nottingham with nothing but salt, steel, and prayer.
That she buried its heart herself before her weddingâbecause some truths are kept quiet⌠until theyâre needed. "Youâre not fighting this alone, my love," she murmurs to the wind, eyes hardening like flint.
"And if you won't let me stand beside you..."
"Then Iâll walk through hell to reach you anyway."
The books she's written were not just fictional horror. They were real. On the surface, her father was just a politician, a businessman, but underneath, he was a trained hunter who has slain demons and monsters, but he lost himself in the world of being a politician. Same as her brothers, her grandfather, and his father and so on.
Her stories of monsters and darkness⌠never just fables told around the fireplace to scare young children. They were lessons in strength, resilience, and the monsters that hide in the quiet dark. Monsters she knew better than anyone, because her grandfather trained her to hunt them. But he never told her he was training her for more than that.
She closes her eyes, remembering words her grandfather used to say. "The scariest monsters are the ones hidden under human skin."
She wants to tell her boys the truth. They're old enough to know. Katherine stands in the quiet parlor of Westhouse Manor, firelight flickering across the walls like restless spirits. Samuel sits with a book in handâsome old tome on philosophyâwhile James sharpens a pocketknife with that familiar, restless energy.
She takes a breath. Deep. Steady. "Boys,"* she says, voice low but firm, âThere's something I need you to understand.". They look up. James stills his blade. Samuel closes his book.
âThe stories Iâve written⌠They're not just fiction. And your grandfather? He wasnât just a politician. He was a hunter."
A beat passesâone charged with silence and weight.
"Like me.". The two boys look at their mother confused. She can see the confusion on their faces.
"My family. The Winchesters, are hunters" She tells them, "Not... hunting animals, but... monsters. Demons, ghosts, vampires. There are monsters... real monsters out there. Real evil.â
Samuel and James sit very still in their seats, eyes wide like children hearing a ghost story by the fireâwhich isnât entirely false, in a way. "Like the ones in your stories?"
Katherine lets out a low, humorless laughâsomething bitter and sad. "My stories are childâs play. The nightmares in the dark are tame compared to them. Because monsters donât just exist in the dark, they walk among us. Wear human faces. Blend in."
Meanwhile back in London. Jacob confronts Mr. Weaversbrook about him publishing the Ripper's letters. As he tells him to stop publishing them. Nelly, a prostitute and an acquaintance of Jacob, approaches him about the Ripper committing yet another murder that night.
"Jacob, thank God I found you... the Ripper, he's done it again." She tells him, her voice weak and shaky.
They leave to the scene of the murders. Two more women dead in the alley in one night. The alley reeks of blood and bile, the cobbles slick underfoot as Jacob steps over the thresholdâNelly trailing behind, face pale beneath her shawl.
Two bodies. Close together. One barely more than a girl. Throats slit with surgical precisionâone clean cut, one⌠not so clean.
A message in blood on the wall, âYOU CANâT SAVE THEM ALL.â. His fists clench at his sides.
"No," he mutters, voice rough like gravel, "but Iâll save those left."
He kneels beside the older womanâthe jagged wound across her chest marks her as different from the others. Not just a killing⌠but an inspection.
"He was looking for something.â Nelly whispers. "Or someone."
A Hidden Blade is tucked beneath her skirtsâstained, but familiar. One of his apprentices. And she didnât fall in battle. She was taken apart like a broken clock. Jacob rises slowly, face shadowed under his hat.
âJack.âhe says into the dark,"You want me to see you? Then show yourself. Because this ends now."
Meanwhile back in Crawley.
"Mother what are you talking about?." Samuel asks. "Are you saying monsters are real?."
She pulls in a slow breath. "Iâm saying," she says carefully, "That the monsters you read about in stories are only a fraction of what walks in this world. There are things that go bump in the night. That arenât just nightmares. And they arenât just creatures. They can wear human faces. Speak. Live and work among peopleâeven be your friendsâand no one would ever know."
Samuel and James listen in silence. "Theyâre all around us.â she says softly. âHidden. Waiting.". The twin boys stare at their mother. Not sure if she's going insane or she's telling the truth.
She sighs, she goes into one of her bags, and pulls out a book. Not one of her books, but an ancient book that her ancestors wrote about monsters hunting that dates back to the 14th century.
Both boys sit up straighter when they see the leather-bound book in her handsâthe pages yellowed and stained with age. This book looks... different.
âThis book," she says, holding it out for them to see, "Is a record of things from our familyâs past. Things that most people donât believe in."
She holds it out for them to touch, and Samuel carefully takes it first. James, always bolder, leans in closer beside him. The book itself is history. Not just hunting monsters and demons. It also contains magic. Blood magic. Black magic. White magic. Witchcraft. Rituals that the Winchesters had been doing for centuries.
Samuel carefully turns the yellowing pages with both hands, staring down at the strange writing and pictures within. Even James leans inâcuriosity winning over the disbelief in his eyes. "My family⌠my ancestors⌠theyâve been fighting these things for centuries.â Katherine says softly. "Since before there was an England."
Samuel looks up at her, face paler now. "Monsters are real," he says. "And weâre supposed to fight them?". Katherine doesn't know what to say to his question.
"I... I was never allowed to hunt... my father never let me." She tells them, "It was considered a man's job to hunt.... although my brother Theodore did teach me behind our father's back.". Samuel looks at her sharply, a silent question in his eyes. Even James glances up from the book, watching her with something like understanding.
"Why did he never let you hunt?". Katherineâs voice is lowâalmost a whisper. "My father thought it was too dangerous. He thought it wasn't a job for a woman."
"Does father know about this?." James asks.
She shakes her head, "I... I don't think he'll understand.". James shuts the book with a soft thud, eyes sharp like flintâso much like Jacob it stings.
"He hunts men who kill for power. You hunt things that kill because theyâre evil by nature."
A beat. Then, quieter. "Heâd understand more than you think.". Samuel looks between them both, thoughtful. "If Jack is more than just a man⌠if heâs become something twisted⌠then maybe youâre the one who sees this clearest.â
She touches the lapis necklace at her throatâJacobâs gift, her vowâand feels the weight of years of silence break. Maybe they werenât meant to carry this truth alone. She looks down and smiles faintly. Knowing her sons are more Winchester than Frye.
She looks at themâreally looksâand sees it clear as daylight. The fire in Jamesâ eyes isnât just Jacobâs recklessness. Itâs Winchester furyâhoned by blood and salt and generations of standing against the dark. And Samuelâs quiet strength? That watchful stillness? Thatâs the old hunterâs heart. The kind that doesnât flinch when the world shows its teeth.
"No," she whispers, smiling faintly, âYou're not more Winchester than Frye."
She cups both their facesâone hand for each sonâand meets their eyes. "Youâre both. And that⌠is why youâll never have to choose between fire and faith."
Outside, the wind stirs through Crawley like a breath from the past. Somewhere far off⌠Jacob fights shadows in London. But here, under this roof, a new kind of legacy begins to rise.
Characters: Katherine Winchester (OC). George Westhouse. Samuel Frye (OC). James Frye (OC). Jacob Frye. Frederick Abberline (brief appearance). Jack the Ripper (mentioned)
Word count: 2.6kÂ
Warnings: None
Previous chapters: [Masterlist]Â
Katherine and her sons are on the train heading to Crawley. Meanwhile, Jacob returns home. Their home is nearly empty without Katherine's scent or their boys bickering.Â
The house feels oddly quiet now that it's just himâthe absence of the boys' bickering, Katherine's gentle sighs and laughs when they're being especially bad, the soft sound of her humming as she washes the dishes. An almost eerie quietness that doesn't do anything but make him ache. Jacob hates it, hates it to the point that he actually considers heading to the local pub, if only to fill the silence.
He drops into an armchair, burying his head in his hands, fingers threading through his hair. He lets out a weary sigh. He knows what he has to do. Stop the Ripper. With Katherine and their twins on their way to Crawley, he knows they're safe.
He stays like that for a while, fingers tangled in his hair, fingers digging into his scalp. He doesn't cry. He's never been the type... but damn, does he feel like crying right now. His family is split in two now and he can't seem to catch a damn break.
Finally, he stands, scrubbing his hands over his face, taking a deep breath to collect himself. No. He can't wallow in self pity right now. He's got to track down the Ripper, no matter the cost.
Meanwhile, Katherine and their twin sons are on the train to Crawley, the boys are asleep in their seats. She looks out the window, mindlessly playing with the necklace she's wearing. The same silver necklace with lapis lazuli detail that Jacob gifted her on their one year wedding anniversary.
She watches the countryside rush by through the window, the rhythm of the train almost lulling her into a sort of trance as she reaches up, fingers playing with the familiar weight of the necklace resting against her chest. Jacob's gift, given to her on their first wedding anniversary. The Lapis lazuli always makes her think of him. And for a moment, she closes her eyes, letting the cool stone against her skin and the memories it carries with it comfort her.
He gifted her the necklace when they went to Westhouse manor. It would be great to see George again. He can meet their boys, and he'll be judged by them being exactly like Jacob... especially James.
She he smiles faintly at the memoryâWesthouse Manor bathed in golden autumn light, Jacob pressing the silver chain into her palm with that rare, unguarded look in his eyes. "For my love." heâd said, all bravado softened by something tender.
  Now, her thumb traces the lapis lazuli stone as she glances at their sleeping boysâJames sprawled like a tiny conqueror across two seats, Samuel curled into himself like heâs trying to hide from the world. One fire. One shadow.
"Youâll meet George soon.â she whispers to them. "And when you do⌠may God help us all if you inherit your fatherâs mouth."
A soft laugh escapes herâwarm despite everything. She turns her attention back to the windows and the rushing countryside. It's almost calming. Relaxing. The monotony of trees and fields, passing farmhouses and villages. The gentle sway of the train.
The ache in her chest seems to ease just a bit, the quiet rhythm of the train like a balm to the loneliness in her heart. She closes her eyes... and lets herself drift.
The train from London to Crawley wasn't too bad. It took a little over an hour. London to Nottingham would've been longer, nearly 2 hours, maybe longer.*Â
Katherine wakes up from her nap. Samuel and James are slouched in their seats, still asleep. Like typical teenage boys.Â
Her sons look so peaceful when they're asleep, all traces of mischief and trouble erased from their faces. She watches them for a moment, an affectionate little smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she takes in their sleeping faces. She can still see traces of the babies they used to beâespecially James. Samuel has his serious, thoughtful side, just like her. But James⌠he's all Jacob in every way. Stubborn, reckless, wild⌠a force of nature. She can only wonder what life would be like for him as he gets older.
Both boys have dark colored hair, brown-greenish eyes. Samuel has some slight freckles on his face, similar to her. James has some slight scarring on his face from all the mischief he got into as a kid.Â
She knows James is gonna be exactly like his father when he gets older. Causing trouble, she wouldn't be surprised if he wanted to be an assassin. She often wonders what it would be like if one of the baby girls, she had miscarried or lost all those years ago, would've survived.
For some reason, she almost always imagines that they would've been like Samuelâcalm, thoughtful, quiet. That they would've inherited more of hers and her motherâs personalities, rather than Jacob's rowdy, careless nature. She has no real way of knowing, of course⌠but a part of her still wonders. A part of her still mourns, even if she's come to accept the loss.
She tears her gaze away from the boys before they can see her looking. No. No point in wondering about things that can never be.
The train starts to slow down. Arriving at the Crawley train station. Katherine looks out the window and sees an old man sitting on a bench with his hood up, could be George.
Her eyes went straight to the old man sitting on the bench outside the station, hood pulled up over his face and a hat pulled low over his eyes. She knows immediatelyâsomehow in her bones, she knowsâthat it's George. That distinctive way of slouching into the bench, the tilt of his head⌠she knows it too well.* Â
She nudges her sons awake, keeping her voice soft."Boys, wake up⌠we're here."
James grumbles something unintelligible and swats at her hand like a feral cat; Samuel just groans and pulls his hat over his eyes.
"Boys, wake up." She says again.Â
Samuel sits up with a sleepy grumble, rubbing his tired eyes. James just slouches into his seat with a huff, looking like a toddler being told to take a bath. She resists the urge to laugh at his obvious irritation. If anyone ever wanted to know what Jacob looked like when he was a sulky teenager⌠this. James is the picture perfect example.
 "Come on. Up," she says, tone gentle but firm.* "Time to go.â
Samuel grabs his jacket and bag. James stays there for a few seconds before getting up and grabbing his belongings.
Katherine shakes her head, holding back a smile. Her boys may be almost men now, but at their core, they're still children to her. She takes their bags and starts down the aisle, heading toward the exit. The twins follow after her, still bleary from sleep.
They step off the train, Katherine sees the man with his hood up, still seated at the bench. She knows for sure it's George.
James sees the man, and wakes up completely now. Suspicious now. Samuel is still half asleep.
"George Westhouse?." Katherine asks the man.Â
The man looks up, a familiar gleam in his eyes as they fix on her and the boys, smiles coming across his wrinkled face.
"Katherine." He says, his voice a warm, low rumble. He pushes himself up from the bench, his gaze roving over the twin boys. "And these must be your lads."Â
 He looks them over, eyes lingering on James for the briefest, almost thoughtful moment.
"The Frye twins." He says, with a chuckle, "Looking exactly like your father."Â
James perks up at that, a cocky grin spreading across his faceâtoo familiar, too much like Jacob for Katherineâs comfort. Samuel just blinks, adjusting his hat and looking slightly embarrassed by the attention.
  "All trouble and charm," George adds with a knowing smirk, stepping forward to clasp Katherineâs hand warmly. "Youâve done well raising them⌠especially this one."
His eyes flick to James againâsharp, assessing. Like he already sees the storm brewing beneath that boyâs skin. She squeezes his hand back, soft smile in placeâbut her heart gives a quiet thud of worry.*Â Â
Too much like Jacob⌠for his own good. They move along to the carriage.Â
"George, how have you been?." Katherine asks.Â
He climbs into the carriage with a grunt, settling in with a sigh as the driver sets them in motion.*Â
âOld," he says simply, pulling back his hood to reveal streaks of silver in his dark hair and deeper lines on his face than Katherine remembers. "But breathing. Thatâs something."
He turns to her, eyes warm but weightedâolder now, wiser. "And you? London hasnât been kind lately⌠especially not to families."
His gaze flicks to the boys againâbrief, carefulâbefore meeting her eyes. "Bringing them here was wise. Jacob may be fire⌠but even fire needs shelter from the storm."
Katherine smiles, "He's dealing with the issues in London."Â
"The Ripper." He says, "I've heard." She shifts in her seat, "It was best for us to come here."Â
George nods slowly, his expression darkening just a touch at the name. He doesnât pressâknows better than to dig where pain livesâbut the weight of it settles between them like smoke in the carriage.
"Jacob always did walk through fire," he murmurs, leaning back. "But heâs not walking alone this time. Heâs got you. And now⌠them.". He tilts his head toward the boysâJames already staring out the window with restless energy, Samuel quietly watching Katherine like he sees every unspoken worry she carries.
"The world keeps turning," George says softly. "And sometimes⌠we have to get our children far from its sharpest edges before it cuts them too deep."
Katherine looks down at her handsâstill clasping Jacobâs necklaceâand says nothing. But inside, she whispers a quiet prayer.
For safety. For homecoming. For fire to return whole from the storm. "We Conquer. We Endure." She says in a whisper, while looking at her necklace.Â
"What's that?." He asks.Â
"Its the words for my house." She tells him, "It's been a saying in my family for centuries.â
George smiles faintly, a spark of understanding in his eyes. "âWe conquer, we endure'...". He echoes the words, tasting them on his tongue. "A good phrase. And how fitting for a family like yours."
He eyes the necklace in her hand, the lapis lazuli stone glinting like something rare in the warm lamplight. "A family heirloom?"
"It was a gift... Jacob gave it to me on our one year wedding anniversary." She tells him, "When we came over here and you didn't believe him when he told you I'm his wife."Â
George laughs, remembering that memory fondly. "I thought he was pulling my chain!"* George laughs, shaking his head. "Jacob? Married? To a Winchester no less? I told him straightâ'You're either drunk or delirious, boy.'"
He mimics his younger self with perfect gruffness, then softens into a genuine smile as he looks at Katherine nowâolder, wiser, but still that fierce fire in her eyes.
"But you walked in behind him... all grace and glare in that black dress... and I knew. Damn right I knew."
His voice drops slightly. "He wasn't boasting. He was proud.". A beat passesâone filled with the rhythm of hooves on stone and the whisper of wind through treesâand then George adds quietly. "Love like yours changes a man. Even one as reckless as Jacob Frye."
"20 years." She says with a smile, "I hope our love changed him."Â
The boys sat quietly in their seats. James looked out the window. Samuel fell asleep with his head against the window. "Twenty years,"* George muses, voice soft with wonder. *"Longer than most survive in our world⌠let alone thrive."
He glances at the sleeping Samuel, then to Jamesâstill alert, always watchingâand something knowing flickers in his gaze.
"You didnât just change him, Katherine. You gave him roots. A reason to come back from the fire⌠instead of losing himself in it."
Outside, the countryside darkens as they near Westhouse Manorâits silhouette rising like a shadow against the twilight. And beneath her fingers, the lapis lazuli stone stays warm.
Like a promise. Like a vow. "We conquer. We endure." They continued towards Westhouse Manor. The carriage pulls up to the front of the house. It hasn't changed a bit.Â
"Is this where my father became an assassin?." James asks.Â
George smiles faintly, looking up with a nostalgic glint in his eyes. "This is it. Westhouse Manor. Old family estate⌠older than you children by a long shot." He glances over at Samuel, and lets out a small chuckle when he notices the boyâs half-lidded eyes. Sleepy like his father.
"Looks like someone is more exhausted than he'd care to admit." Katherine smiles quietly. Her sons never change.
"We woke up early. He is the more well behaved one." She tells George, "He takes after me."Â
"I see.â George chuckles. "And the other one?" He glances at Jamesâalready hopping out of the carriage, restless as ever.
"Reminds me a bit of Jacob at that age. Too curious for his own damn good."*
"He's exactly like Jacob." She tells him.Â
They get out of the carriage and make their way to the house. George laughs softly, shaking his head. He can already imagine the trouble James will get into as he gets older.
"Jacob always has been restless." He glances once more at Jamesâalready poking at the trees surrounding the estate, like a cat testing new territory. "But that fire burns like yours."
They walk up the gravel path. George opens the door for them, the old hinges of Westhouse Manor creaking as they step inside.
Katherine gets memories from when her and Jacob came to the manor. The foyer is dimly lit with just a few gas lamps, the shadows dancing softly against the worn stone walls. The air in the manor has a familiar scentâaged wood and dust, with the faintest whiff of tobacco and whiskey. Something inside Katherine stirsâmemories creeping in the edges of her consciousness like old friends. This home isn't hers, but somehow⌠it feels just as familiar as if it was. She can hear the voices, the memories when her and Jacob came to the manor.Â
"Follow me." His voice is a quiet murmur. âClose your eyes.â
"Alright." She responds, closing her eyes. Taking her to the room where he gifted her the necklace she's wearing.Â
George watches as a strange, soft smile touches Katherineâs faceâthe look of a woman returning to a moment only she still sees. The boys are distracted by the old manor, running up the stairs to explore the floors above but... sheâs still in the past. He takes a step closer, voice almost as soft as the shadows in the manor. "Remembering something, are we?."
"It's like... stepping into the past." She tells him.Â
George glances around, taking in the old house himself. There are memories in these old stones, in the wood paneling of the walls, in the fabric of the old curtains⌠memories this home has gathered for generations.Â
"Itâs seen its fair share of days," he says quietly. "But a house forgets nothing. It holds fast to its past like a whisper, if you listen closely enough."
While the boys are exploring the manor, Katherine takes in the memories.Â
Meanwhile in London, the Ripper has committed another murder in broad daylight. Jacob continues to track him down. The fog clings thick to the cobbled streets of Whitechapel, stained crimson near an alleyway where another body liesâsilenced by madness and steel. A single white feather, marked with blood, rests upon the victimâs chest. A signature. A mockery. He stands at the edge of it allâcloak drawn tight, face shadowed beneath his hatâas Abberline curses under his breath beside him. âBloody hell.â
"Heâs taunting you,"* the inspector mutters to Jacob.
He doesnât answer. His jaw is clenched so tight it aches. Because he knows. This was never about fear in the streets. It was always about vengeance dressed as chaos⌠and a pupil turned nightmare.
Characters: Jacob Frye. Katherine Winchester (OC). Samuel Frye (OC). James Frye (OC). Evie Frye (mentioned). Henry Green (mentioned)
Word count: 3.5k
Warnings: Some slight tension between Jacob and Katherine
Previous chapters: Chapter 11. Chapter 12.
Jacob eventually falls asleep, his wife in his arms.
The sound of birds outside wakes him up, the sun rising from behind the buildings. Katherine is still asleep in his arms.
He can hear shuffling coming from the boys room.
He blinks his eyes open, the dawn coming through the curtains telling him it's nearly morning. He glances down at his sleeping wife in his arms, still asleep, before turning his gaze toward the door. The sound of the boys in the next room brings him back to reality.
He sighs heavily, slowly untangling himself from her arms, careful not to wake her. He sits up in bed, running a hand through his hair to try and fix his disheveled appearance. For a moment, he just sits there, watching the rise and fall of her chest in sleep.
After a few minutes, he stands up, changing into his clothes before going to his son's room.
As he stands in the doorway, he sees his sons already awake and getting dressed. They both glance up at him as he enters, their eyes flicking to his mussed-up hair and slightly disheveled appearance. There's no missing the fact that he's spent the night awake, and the boys share a slightly wary look between them. They know what those signs meanâtheir parents have been "busy." But they wisely keep their thoughts to themselves.
James finishes packing his bag.
"Morning father." Samuel says as he enters the room.
Jacob leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, trying to look composed despite the tired warmth still clinging to his bones. He gives a small nod to Samuel.
"Morning, son." His voice is low, rough from sleepâand other things. James zips up his bag with a little too much enthusiasm, pointedly not making eye contact.
"Sleep well⌠boys?" Jacob asks dryly. The sarcasm is lightâteasingâbut thereâs a glint in his eye that says he knows full well they didnât.
"Sorta." Samuel replies.
James tries to not make eye contact. Still upset that him, Samuel and their mother have to leave London and go to Crawley.
Also from hearing his parents getting *'busy'* during the night.
He glances between the two boysâtheir averted eyes, the slightly tight-lipped expressions, the hint of tension in their shouldersâand it's clear they're less than thrilled about the move to Crawley. But there's more to their mood this morning. They seem particularly uncomfortable⌠and it doesn't take long for him to figure out why.
He clears his mouth, fighting back a smirk as he raises a single eyebrow at them. "Something on your mind, boys? You two look a little⌠uncomfortable this morning.â
The two boys exchange looks for a moment.
"How long are we... gonna be in Crawley?." Samuel asks. James fiddles with the zipper on his bag as he asks the question.
He studies them both for a moment, the faintest hint of a smirk on his face as he sees how uncomfortable they are. He knows full well what's making them so jittery this morning, and he lets them squirm for a moment longer, just to be a little bit extra. Finally, he answers the question, tone nonchalant, bordering on sarcastic. "Not long, hopefully. Just a few months.â
While they're talking, Katherine wakes up. She gets dressed, and hears Jacob, and their sons talking.
The sound of muffled voices drifts down the hall as Katherine buttons her blouse, her fingers lingering on the fabric. She pauses by the bedroom door, listeningâJacobâs low tone, the boysâ quiet unease. A soft smile tugs at her lips. She knows that tone. The one he uses when heâs trying to be stern but canât hide his affection.
She steps out quietly, hair still loose and wild from sleep and last nightâs passion. Her presence cuts through the tension like sunlight through fog. "Donât give them such a hard time, Jacob."
Her voice is warm, chidingâbut there's a teasing glint in her eye as she meets his gaze. "Now come here⌠before I make you regret that last night was your goodbye.â
The boys groan, a reminder that they can hear their parents and their late night activities. "You know these walls are very thin." James tells them.
Jacob shoots them a sharp, warning glance, his lips twitching despite himself. They might be his sons, but he's not about to discuss his nighttime activities with them. "Watch yourself, boy."
His tone is mock-stern, the warning light. He knows full well she has him wrapped around her little finger. But he can't keep up the act when he turns to her, a playful smirk spreading across his face. "Careful, love. Don't threaten me with a good time.â
They both leave the boys in their room, while they go back to their space.
Katherine gives him a kiss, it's much more passionate than any kiss she gave him last night or any kiss throughout their marriage.
He responds to her kiss in an instant, his hand coming up to cup her face as he deepens it. His other arm wraps around her waist, pulling her close against him. It's a fierce, possessive kiss, like he's trying to commit every second to memory.
When they finally pull back, he rests his forehead against hers, eyes closed, breath quick, trying to ground himself. "Keep kissing me like that, woman, and we'll give our sons a real reason to complain.â
"Well, we're gonna be separated for some time." She tells him, "And I want to be able to remember your lips."
His expression softens, the playful glint in his eye giving way to something deeperâsomething raw and quiet. He traces her lip with his thumb, studying her face like he's mapping every detail into memory.
"Then let me make sure you don't forget."
He kisses her againâslower this time, but no less intense. A promise wrapped in tenderness. When they part, he presses one last small kiss to the corner of her mouth and whispers. "I'll see you soon. I'm not letting Crawley keep you from me for long.â
"Stop the Ripper soon, so the boys and I can come home sooner." She tells him.
A hint of a smirk comes back to Jacob's face, a subtle determination in his eyes. He doesn't need much convincing; he's already made the Ripper's death a personal priority. But his wife's words only firm that resolve even more. His fingers brush her cheek in a possessive gesture, voice a low growlâequal parts promise and vow.
"I'll gut the bastard in a week. Mark my words.â
Katherine gives him a gentle smile, she looks past him, looking over at the wall and sees a photo of him, his twin sister Evie and her husband Henry in front of the temple of Kali in India with a young boy assassin, they called Jack the Lad.
Katherineâs gaze lingers on the photoâsun-bleached and slightly crooked on the wall. Jacob follows her eyes, his expression softening as he sees it too. The past stares back at them: Evie poised and calm, Henry with his quiet dignity, young Jack the Lad grinning like trouble already ran in his blood.
He steps closer to her, voice low nowâalmost reverent.
"Seems like a lifetime ago. Back when we still thought saving one lost soul was enough."
He pauses, jaw tightening just slightly.
"But look what he became⌠and I didnât see it coming."
His hand finds hers. "This time? Iâll finish it right. For you. For our boys.â
Her jaw clenched as she continued to stare at the photo. "I never did forgive you." She says, "It was a difficult time."
The photo was from 15 years ago, the last time he and Evie spoke.
Katherine was pregnant with Samuel and James.
Their relationship was a bit rocky at the time. She was pregnant, and Jacob had left for India.
He goes very still. The air in the room shiftsâlightness gone, replaced by something heavier, older. He doesnât look at her, keeps his eyes on the photo a moment longer before turning to face her fully.
"I know," he says simplyâno deflection, no sarcasm. Just quiet acceptance. "And youâve every right not to."
He takes a breath, uncharacteristically measured now.
"I was chasing ghostsâJack back then was still one of us⌠and I thought I could help him like a Father tried to help others. But youâŚ" His voice drops. "You were alone. Pregnant with twins no less. And I wasn't there."
He reaches for her hand again, but slower this timeâas if he knows she might pull away. "Leaving for India was my duty as mentor⌠but staying away when you needed me? That was my failure."
She finally looks at him, "I know it was your duty as a mentor, I know it wouldn't be safe for a pregnant woman to be around assassins."
She takes a deep breath, "It wasn't your fault Jack went rogue as he got older... I always knew something was off about him... I didn't say anything because he was just a lost boy.â
His shoulders relaxâjust slightlyâas her words sink in. He hadnât realized how much heâd been bracing for her anger until now. Her understanding hits him like a blade to the gut, not with pain, but with guilt and relief tangled together.
"He was just a lost boy," he murmurs, voice rough, âAnd I failed him. Just like I failed you." He steps closer, cupping her face in his hands, eyes searching hers.
"But listen to me nowâthis wonât happen again. Iâm not running off blind this time. I know what matters most." A faint smirk tries to form. "Even if it means coming back sooner than planned⌠because God knows youâve spoiled me for other women."
Katherine gives a small laughâa real oneâand Jacob exhales like heâs finally allowed himself to breathe. She holds his hands as he cups her face, her eyes gentle. "I love you."
A soft expression takes over Jacob's face, any trace of tension slowly fading from his shoulders. He traces the line of her jawline, his smile gentler than he normally allows himself. Her words settle himâanchor him to ground he thought he forgot how to walk on. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low rumble.
"I love you too, you maddening woman." He presses a gentle kiss to her forehead, and another one to her lips just afterâtender and slow, like an apology and a vow combined.
"Are we leaving soon?!." James asks from kitchen.
He pulls away to look at his sons, trying (and failing) to maintain his usual air of seriousness in front of them. He gives a nod toward the door.
"You boys go load up the carriage. We'll be there in a moment. And rememberâdon't give your mother trouble." With a final nod, James and Samuel dart back to their room to get their bags, leaving Jacob and his wife alone again.
Katherine chuckles, "Give me a few minutes to get dressed, pack up, and I'll be down."
Jacob gives her a little mock-salute, the corner of his mouth tugging into a smirk as she heads to get dressed. "Yes, ma'am."
He leans up against the doorframe, trying his best not to just let himself get distracted again by the idea of pulling her back into bed and just staying there.
She changes into a long blue dress. She always wore her family's house color.
Blue was her color.
Once she was dressed she packed her bags. Clothes, jewelry, shoes, other essential items.
Ready to go on a train to Crawley.
He doesn't bother to hide the way his gaze hungrily runs over her body. His eyes trace the lines of her form, taking in the gentle fabric of the dress, the way her hands work as she packs her things. She looks every inch the Lady she'd been raised to be, elegant and composed⌠but he knows the passion that lies beneath the polished surface. That knowledge is enough to make his breath catch in his chest⌠and to make him feel like he's been away from his wife way too damn long.
The boys finished putting their baggage in the carriage, before settling in.
She steps out of the townhouse, two suitcase in hand. To Jacob, nothing about her has changed, she was and will always be beautiful in his eyes.
He takes her bags from her without a word, heading for the carriage. His gaze flicks over her. No matter how many years pass, she still takes his breath away. She's more than just beautiful⌠she's home. He lifts her bags onto the carriage, placing them carefully with their sons' things. He takes a deep breath, steadying himself, then turns to face her.
"Ready?â He asks.
"Ready." She responds. She takes a seat up front with him. Jacob takes control of the reins. On their way to the Whitechapel train station.
He keeps his eyes on the road as the carriage pulls away, his hands steady on the reins. He feels the weight of her beside him, just the slightest brush of their arms a potent reminder of what he's going to miss. In all their years of marriage, there's never been much time spent apart. It feels like a wrongness, a loss of balance, every instinct in his body itching at being torn from her side. He lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, trying to focus on the road.
She breaks the silence, "Where will we go?" She asks, "When we get to Crawley."
He pauses for a moment, "George Westhouse... I wrote to him... a week ago. He will be waiting for you when you get there."
He is quiet for a moment, nodding as he keeps his eyes on the road. He'd already thought it through in detail. He always had plans, contingencies, backup plans. But this time⌠everything left him. He knew he'd be restless without her. Still, he was trying his damn hardest to not just let her see he was barely holding himself together.
"George will keep you safe. He knows the terrain. And... he'll be happy to see you. You two always did get along.â
She chuckles, "I met him once.... when we went to Crawley for our 1 year wedding anniversary."
His lips twitch into the ghost of a smirk, that familiar nostalgic feeling settling on him. His gaze flicks over to her for a moment, and there's a glint of something in his eyes that's part memory, part desire.
"I remember that trip. We were staying at that little bed and breakfast, not far from George's manor⌠it was a beautiful place. But we had other plans."
His voice drops, teasing. "If I recall, we didn't get out of that room much.â
She laughs, her face turning red. "I do remember him questioning how I could be with a rebellious man like you." She teases. "How the daughter of a well known aristocrat can fall in love with an unruly, rebellious assassin."
Jacob lets out a snort, a grin breaking through the stoicism. He can practically hear George's voice in his headâold fashioned, polite, almost mockingâtrying to understand how a 'proper woman' could handle someone as unruly as he is.
"And he thought you were far too soft for me. A gentle soul that I'd drag off the cliff in my recklessness.â
Katherine laughs, "He couldn't wrap his mind around the idea."
He gives a small smirk, the tension in his shoulders slowly lessening. He glances at her, the corner of his mouth still twitching with the tiniest smile. God, he'll miss her laugh... the sound of her voice⌠the feel of her in his arms at night.
"And what did you tell him, love? How does a proper lady explain falling for someone like me?â
She looks at him, "I told him the truth. I refused to marry into politics and whoever my father had arranged for me."
His smile widens, even more of the tension in his shoulders fading at the thought of itâher turning her back on high society just to end up with him. His hand tightens on the reins a bit, but in a possessive way. Not out of frustration or anything like it.
"The perfect answer. I know how you always hated those damn snobby idiots at the fancy parties your father dragged you to.â
"Don't remind me." She chuckles.
They sat in silence for a few minutes before they arranged at the Whitechapel train station. The boys immediately got out of the carriage, and grabbed their baggage.
A pang of tension shoots through Jacob as he watches the boys, his jaw clenching a bit. Every muscle in his body is coiled tight, a silent warning to the world that he's barely holding himself together. But he pushes it downâhe's trying to enjoy this final moment with his wife before it's torn away. He jumps out of the carriage and moves to her side, standing too close to be normal. The boys start to walk toward the platform in the distance, a safe distance from them, giving them a moment alone.
Katherine watches as the boys walk towards the platform to where their train is set to arrive.
"So, this is it." She says, her voice soft.
His expression goes even more stoic as she says the words, his heart aching like someone's twisting a blade in it. It's taking every ounce of his training to keep himself from showing how the thought of being apart from her is tearing him apart.
"For a little while."
His voice is low, like he's trying to reassure himself more than her. He takes her hands in hisâa silent gesture of love.
She looks over at their boys, then back to him. She rests her forehead against his forehead, "I love you.". Jacob closes his eyes as her skin touches his, his hands holding hers tighter. He's fighting every damn urge in his body to just pull her closer, to wrap her in his arms and refuse to let go.
"I love you too. So bloody much, it sometimes feels like it'll be the death of me.â
She leans in and kisses him, they're like that for nearly 2 minutes before the sound of a train whistle signals its arrival to the station.
"Write to me." She tells him.
He pulls back reluctantly when the train whistle sounds, his jaw clenching again. He nods, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat as he forces back the wave of emotions threatening to knock him off his feet. He's trying and failing to keep all of his feelings under control. It's like trying to stop a damn flood.
"Every damn day. And you have to write to me, too."
"I will." She tells him.
Their sons call out to Katherine as the train approaches.
He tries to hold onto his composure as the boys start to board the trainâand as her hands start to slip out of his. Every fiber of him is screaming at him to stop this from happening, to find another way. But he knows there's no other way. At least, no other safe way. He just has to trust that George can protect her.
"I... I'm going to miss you, wife. More than words can say.â
"I'll miss you too husband." She responds.
She grabs her bag, and proceeds to walk towards the train. Samuel and James stop at the train door, waiting for her to board.
Jacob's chest heaves, his heart aching at the sight of her walking away. He's never been as good at hiding his emotions as she is. God damn it, he's falling apart already. He takes a few deep breaths to try and control himself, to keep himself from doing something stupid like grabbing her and throwing her over his shoulder and taking her back home. He's trying to remind himself why this is necessary, why she needs to go to Crawley.
As soon as Katherine boards the train. The twins get off and run towards their father, giving him a tight embrace.
She sees this from the train, and she immediately tears up.
His arms go around his sons without question, hugging them tightly to his body. It's a mixture of love and desperationâhe's holding onto his kids as if he's never going to see them again. His eyes flicker up to the window for a fraction of a second, catching sight of his wife wiping tears away. He has to bite back the pain burning in his chest, willing himself not to break. His wife and sons need him to be strong.
"Go on." He tells his sons, "You miss your train."
They run back to the train. He waves Katherine and their sons goodbye.
Jacob watches them take their seats through the window, every part of him screaming to stop them from leaving. He forces himself to stay put, to keep a brave face. When the train starts to pull out of the station, his hands ball into fists, his jaw clenching so hard it hurts.
It's only when the train is out of sight and the station is quiet that he lets out the breath he was holding, his whole body tensed like a bowstring about to snap.
Characters: Jacob Frye. Katherine Winchester (OC). Samuel Frye (OC). James Frye (OC)
Word count: 2.4k
Warnings: None
Previous chapters: [Chapter 9] [Chapter 8]
Authors note: A new chapter every Friday until i finish the series.
They both fall asleep. Their home settled throughout the night. The lit candle died out slowly into the wax before being put out.
The night becomes silent. No more sounds come from the house, aside from the steady breathing from the sleeping family. Jacob sleeps fitfully; it's a habit he's had for years. But tonight is worse. His dreams are plagued with thoughts of the Ripper, and his worry about his family weighs heavy on him, even in sleep. In the back of his mind, he can't push the thought away. Tomorrow, he has to tell his sons that they'll all be leaving for Crawley.
Jacob twitched in his sleep, nightmares about Jack somehow getting to his family.
Gutting Katherine, leaving his sons motherless, or worse. A nightmare he doesn't want happening.
The images that plague his sleep are horrid. Jack the Ripper, stalking the city of London like a hunter, and his target is his family. He sees them dead, brutally murdered at the hands of the Ripper. Katherine, Samuel, and James... dead and lifeless, and the worst part is, he's too late to save them... His head tosses on the pillow, a low moan escapes his throat. His eyes clenched shut.
Jacob's eyes shoot open. He sits up in bed, sweating heavily. His hands shaking, breathing heavily.
He looks over at Katherine who is asleep.
He glances at her, watching her sleep. She looks so peaceful and beautiful, but he feels like there's a weight in his chest. The nightmare is still fresh in his mind. He runs a trembling hand through his messy, sweat-soaked hair. His heart is hammering in his chest, and he's desperate to calm his ragged breathing. All he can see are the images from his nightmare.... His family... dead.
He doesn't sleep for the rest of the night. Every little sound puts him on edge. He sits there in the dark as she slept.
He tries to sleep, to close his eyes and get some rest, but he can't. The image from his nightmare keep plaguing him. He tries to focus on the sound of her steady breathing, to slow his own breathing, but to no avail. His heart is hammering in his chest like a drum. He doesn't even dare to try and sleep again. He just sits in the dark, his mind racing, his heart throbbing. His thoughts are a mess, and his emotions feel like a tangled mess.
The sun started to slowly rise up. Katherine turned in her sleep, now facing Jacob.
He can't help but look at her face, her expression soft and calm in her sleep. His gaze travels over her, taking in the sight of her in the soft light from the sunrise. She looks so peaceful, so beautiful, and here he is.
Sitting in the dark, his emotions a tangled mess, his mind a jumble of thoughts and images, his heart hammering in his chest. He's a sorry sight... and yet... she's still there, sleeping next to him. His breath hitches in his throat.
He sat there staring at his wife as the sun continued to rise.
For him, the night has felt like an eternity. He can't get the images from his nightmare out of his mind, the image of his family dead, and his heart is still drumming in his chest. But as he sits there, watching her sleep, he finds that the sight of her is a soothing balm to the storm that is raging through him.
She's a beacon in the dark. And as he sits here in the early morning light, he can't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, there is a chance that he can save his family.
Jacob continued to sit there. The sun is already up. It was after 7am now.
He can hear footsteps down the hall. Samuel and James are awake now.
He can hear the sound of footsteps in the hallway, his sons are awake. They're probably getting dressed now, and soon, they'll be coming down for breakfast. He can't help but feel a pang in his heart. He's not ready to tell them the news. He takes a deep breath, trying to push back the fear... and the image of them dead. He runs a shaking hand through his hair, trying to make his hair look less disheveled.
He doesn't realize Katherine is now awake and can see the distress in his eyes.
He's too caught up in his thoughts to even notice that she's awake. He's still sitting in the same position from last night. His shoulders slumped, his hair is disheveled, and he even feels like the bags under his eyes are more pronounced. He feels exhausted, both mentally and physically.
He's tired, he couldn't sleep at all last night, and it shows. His face is pale, and he's a mess... and he feels like his emotions are out of control.
She gently puts her hand over his hand.
He's taken by surprise when he feels her hand over his. He looks down at their hands, but he doesn't move his hand away. The feeling of her touch is familiar and soothing, but at the same time, it's making him feel even more guilt.
He takes a shaky breath, and he looks up at her, their eyes locking. The look in his eyes is clear; he's a mess and he feels like he's barely holding himself together.
Katherine sits up. Her hand, still resting on his. She leans in and rests her head on his shoulder as if she's conforming him.
He feels her lean against him, her head against his shoulder, and he instinctively wraps an arm around her. He pulls her closer to him, savoring the feel of her body against his. Despite the chaos inside, he finds comfort in her presence. The warmth of her skin, the familiar scent of her hair. It's just her, and at this moment... She feels like his anchor, the one thing keeping him grounded.
"You okay love?." She asks him.
He can't bring himself to lie to her, even though he wants to. His mouth opens to say something, to try and assure her that he's fine, but his words fail him. The images from his nightmare are still fresh in his mind, and he can still feel the way his heart was hammering in his chest. He takes a deep breath, his arm tightening around her as he tries to steady his breathing.
His voice is rough and hoarse when he finally speaks. "I'm fine... just didn't sleep wellâŚâ.
She knows he's lying. He looks exhausted. He knows he's stressing about Jack the Ripper, and the safety of her and their sons.
"I'll go make the tea." She says before getting up from the bed.
He doesn't argue with her. He knows better than to argue. He knows she knows he's lying. He's never been a good liar. She's always been able to see through him. He watches her get up and walk away. Part of him wants to pull her back, to hold her in his arms, to let her comfort and assure him. But he doesn't do that. He just lets her go... And part of him feels like he's lost without her.
But he knows, they have to tell their sons about the situation.
Them leaving to Crawley, and he stays behind in London.
He knows they'll have to tell the boys, and he's dreading it. He doesn't want to see the looks on their faces. They're both so young, and they'll probably put up a fight about leaving. He can already picture the disappointment and worry in their eyes. He can already hear the protests, the arguments. They're like him, stubborn and willful. They won't go quietly, and he knows they'll hate the idea of him staying in London by himself.
Katherine prepares the tea while the boys eat their breakfast of bread and eggs.
Jacob pulled himself out of bed. Trying to figure out what he was gonna tell their sons.
He enters the kitchen, and he can already see them both, Samuel and James, eating their breakfast. He can see the carefree way they're acting, how they look so normal and happy. His heart twists at the thought of the news he has to give them. He takes a deep breath and enters the room, taking a seat at the table with them. He gives them a forced smile, hoping he looks somewhat normal, and not exhausted and worn down.
Katherine looks back at him, they both know they have to tell them the news.
He nods, acknowledging the unspoken agreement between them. They have to tell them, there's no getting around it. He takes a deep breath and turns his attention to his sons. The boys are both oblivious of the conversation to come.
They're just eating their breakfast, chatting and laughing, completely unaware of what's about to happen. His heart twists again, seeing them like this, he doesn't want to tell them, but he knows he has to.
Katherine starts the conversation. "Boys, how'd you sleep?."
"Good." They respond in unison.
James turns to Jacob, "Father, did you find that Ripper man?.â
Jacob is caught off guard by the question, and he can feel the weight of it land on his shoulders. He knows the question is innocent enough, his son is just curious, but the truth is that he didn't get any sleep, and he hasn't made any progress.
But he doesn't want to tell him that, so he just plasters on a strained smile. "Not yet, my boy. It's a difficult case.â
Samuel can see the stress in his father's eyes, he takes after his mother more, being able to read people's emotions.
James, on the other hand, is a lot more out spoken, stubborn and takes after his father.
His gaze shifts to Samuel. He knows the young boy can see past his act. He's always known that Samuel had that ability. He takes after his mother, and he has a bit more of that emotional intelligence. But James is the opposite. His son is more like him. Outspoken, bold, and stubborn. He can sense a fight coming, he can already see it in the young boy's expression.
Katherine shoots James a motherly glare as if she's telling him to stop.
Jacob almost chuckles at the expression on James' face. The boy looks slightly chastised by his mother's glare, and he immediately quiets down. He knows better than to argue with his mother. But he can see the question forming in the boy's eyes, the protest building. He knows his son is going to fight it, he's going to protest the news, and he braces himself for it.
"Boys, your father and I were talking last night. The situation with the Whitechapel killer." She tells them. "Its getting intense, and a lot more dangerous."
Katherine leads the conversation, hoping for Jacob to jump in.
He takes a deep breath, knowing that it's his time to take over in the conversation. This is it, he has to be the one to tell them. He leans forward on the table, his hands clasped in front of him, his heart hammering in his chest. This is the moment he's dreaded since he decided they have to leave. He looks them both in the eye, taking another deep breath.
The two boys look over at their father. Concern and worry in their eyes.
He holds their gaze, he can see the concern and worry in their eyes, and he knows they can see the guilt in his. It's killing him, seeing the way they're looking at him, the way they're feeling. But he has to be honest with them. He has to tell them the truth. He takes another deep breath, bracing himself.
"The situation in Whitechapel is getting worse, and the situation isn't safe anymore... and we need you both to go somewhere safe.â
"W-what?." Samuel says softly. "Where are we going?."
Jacob's heart twists at the sound of Samuel's soft voice. The boy already looks afraid and worried. He can see the way his son is looking at him, and it makes it so much harder. "You and your brother will be going to Crawley. It's safer outside of the city. You'll both be safe there.â
"I will be going with you too." Katherine adds, "Its not safe for me either."
James looks down at his plate, looking like he wants to protest, to fight back, but he knows better than to question his parents, especially his father.
Jacob can see that James wants to protest, it's obvious. He wants to say something, he wants to argue with it. But he's keeping his mouth shut, which is a surprise, since the boy has such a stubborn and defiant nature. But he can see the tension in his son, the way the boy is clenching his jaw and his hands are clenched into fists. "This isn't up for debate. It's too dangerous for all of us to stay. The two of you need to go.â
"I don't want to." James mutters softly.
"James, this isn't a question." Katherine tells him, "You and your brother will be safer outside of London. I'll be going with you too."
James slams a fist on the table, his words coming out in a sharp and angry tone. âI said I don't want to go. I don't want to leave you here, Father."
Jacob's heart twists at the sound of James' angry tone. He can see the angry and defiant look on the boy's face, and he's reminded of himself so much.
Katherine looks over at Jacob.
He sighs softly, trying to keep himself calm. He knows where this conversation is going. His son has always been so stubborn, so willful, so headstrong. He's so much like him, always fighting back, and it's a headache. He looks at James, his voice firm and steady. âStop that. You're going, end of story. This isn't up for a debate or a discussion, boy. You'll do as your mother and I say.â
Samuel, the eldest son, shoots a glare at his younger brother. "Yes, sir." James mutters.
Jacob nods, acknowledging his son's response. The boy still looks like he wants to argue, but he's keeping his mouth shut at the moment. He knows his father would give him a tongue lashing if he dared to protest again. Samuel, on the other hand, looks relieved with the agreement. He's the older and more sensible of the two boys, more like their mother.
"When are we leaving?." Samuel asks.
"Tomorrow morning. We'll head out at first light." Jacob answers, his voice strained. He's trying to sound firm and matter-of-fact about it, but the thought of them leaving is like a knife in his heart. He can feel the pain twisting in him.
Characters: Jacob Frye. Katherine Winchester (OC).
Word count: 4.4k
Warnings: Attempted kidnapping. Some slight derogatory insults. Another flashback chapter. Fight club Jacob
Previous chapters: [Chapter 7]
Flash back to 5 years earlier, when Jacob and Katherine had begun their relationship. One of their dates was Jacob taking her to a fight club to watch him. This was the first time he had taken her to one of these.
He'd invited her out to one of the underground fights that he always went to, and god, he was already loving the night just for the fact that she said yes. He'd been so nervous to ask her, thinking she'd think it was too brutal for her, but to his relief, she'd said yes almost instantly. And hell, seeing her sitting there, watching him fight, watching her get that look of intense focus on her face, it was making him love her more than he already did.
She's a lady of high class and of high society. She normally would view this as barbaric, brutal, and too violent. She felt out of place.
He could tell she was out of her element, that this was a completely different atmosphere from the high society she was used to. He knew she'd usually find it barbaric and violent, but that's not what he was focused on. He was focused on the way her eyes tracked his every move, on the expression on her face as she watched him. He could almost see the thoughts going through her head as she watched the fight, and it made something in his damn chest swell.
She sat there in the crowd, in some dumpy old pit somewhere in Whitechapel borough.
She was nervous, being there, and for Jacob's wellbeing. Knowing she would have to patch him up if he got hurt.
He could tell that she was nervous, that she was worried. He could see it in her eyes, in the way she was watching the fight. And he knew damn well she was thinking about the fact that she'd probably have to patch him up if he got too hurt. And that realization made him both feel bad for making her worry, and love her even more for being so damn worried about him.
He was next up for his match. He usually goes about 4 rounds in the ring.
It was him against 3 other men.
She could see that in his expression, the determination and focus in his eyes. This was just another night for him, fighting and winning at the fight clubs he went to all the time. For her, though, it was the first time seeing him fight. And she'd been nervous enough about this already, and now the fact that he was fighting against three other men, it made her anxiety spike.
To her surprise, he managed to take all 3 of them, seeing his brute-like strength.
It was honestly a damn impressive sight, watching him take on all three of them and come out completely unscathed. By the time it was all over, he was standing in the center of the ring, not a single scratch on him, the other three men either unconscious or groaning and bruised on the ground. And the victory, the satisfaction and the accomplishment in his eyes as he looked over at her, god, it made her breath catch in her chest.
He went on to do 3 more rounds against 3-4 other men.
Making nearly ÂŁ2500 at the end of it.
She watched him fight every single round, and every single time he came out completely unscathed. His strength and his skill, it impressed her like hell. And by the end, when he came out standing with a fat load of cash on him, it just made the respect and admiration she had for him grow even more. He made his way over to her, all sweaty and slightly breathless, but with a victorious look in his eyes. He stopped right in front of her, grinning.
Katherine had this weird, strange feeling in her stomach as if him fighting, with no shirt on was a turn-on for her. She couldn't even explain it.
He could see the way her eyes roamed over him, the way her gaze took in the sight of him shirtless and sweating right in front of her. And god, it made the victory and high of the night and the adrenaline from the fights just get bigger. He had noticed her gazes on him like that all night, had felt it, and it made that spark of satisfaction and damn ego in his chest grow. He smirked down at her.
âSee somethin' ya like, princess?.â He teases her.
She snaps out of her trance, clearing her throat, "Are... are you alright?.â A low huff of laughter escapes his chest at her words and the way she clears her throat, the way she tries to hide the fact that she was clearly checking him out. He nods slightly.
âNot even a single scratch on me, sweetheart.â He wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her close.
The second his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close to his side, the one arm he had around her hips holding her flush against him, a feeling of possessive, satisfied pride filled his chest. It was a possessive gesture, a clear sign that he's got his girl, and he's not letting her go. He spoke, his voice low and warm in her ear. âYou've been staring at me all night, princess.â
She feels her cheeks flush, "Am I not allowed to?." She chuckles.
God, seeing that blush spread across her cheeks, hearing that chuckle from her, it makes that possessive feeling grow even more in his chest. When she asks if she's allowed to, it makes that goddamn ego and spark of male pride in his chest go a little more. He lets out his own low chuckle, his voice low to match, keeping her close to his side and holding her hip a little tighter.*
âNever said you weren't, princess. Just noticed you've been staring a lot.â He has her all worked up, and he knows it.
He can practically see the way she's getting all worked up and flustered, and god, it only makes that possessive part of him grow even stronger. He's got her all flustered and blushing, and she's pressed up against his side and right where he wants her. It's making the ego in his chest grow, and his voice stays low and almost teasing as he speaks next to her ear.
âCan't keep your eyes off me, can ya, princess?.â
She wraps one of her arms around him.
"You know it." She purrs, teasing him back.
Her words, her damn teasing, the sound of her purr, and the way her arm wraps around him. It all makes the possessiveness in his chest go even stronger, and his own smirk appears on his face. He keeps her pulled close against his side, keeping his own arm tight around her hips, not wanting to let her out of his grip for even a second.
Jacob chuckles, âYou're a damn tease, you know that?.â
One of the other fighters who lost against him confronts him. "Oi! You fuckin' cheated." He would've been content to keep holding her flush against his side, the possessive pride in his chest still going strong. But then the guy calls out and confronts him, and suddenly, the mood changes. The guy is clearly angry, frustrated, and bitter over his loss, and he accuses him of cheating. Jacob glances over at him, rolling his eyes.
âOh, come off it. Can't handle losing, huh?.â
"I'll come over there and knock your block off!." He yells.
He looks over at Katherine, "Hey sweetheart, why don't you come over here and be with a real man, and not some cheating wanker."
Katherine looks at the man in disgust.
The second the guy insults him and calls him a cheater, Jacob's patience instantly dwindles. But then, the guy turns his focus onto her, telling her to go be with "a real man", and it makes something in his chest flare. He instinctively tightens his grip on her hips, not wanting her to go anywhere near that idiot. âHey, keep your damn eyes and mouth off my girl, dickhead.â
"What are you gonna do about it?." He threatens, then he goes back to eyeballing Katherine. "She looks like a screamer."
The way that guy is looking at her, checking her out and eyeing her up like a damn piece of meat, and the comment he makes about her. It's all making that possessiveness and anger in his chest flare, the idea of someone else looking at her like that and talking about her like that. His fingers tighten even more on her hip, the other hand clenching into a fist at his side.
âI'm gonna kick your arse, that's what I'm gonna do.â
"C'mon prince charming." He taunts Jacob, "I'll kick your ass and steal your girl! Or... maybe I'll have my fun with her and toss her ass into the Thames."
Every word that comes out of that guy's mouth makes the anger in Jacob's chest reach a new goddamn level. Because not only is this loser accusing him of cheating and insulting him, but now he's talking about wanting to touch Katherine and toss her into the damn Thames like she's just some sort of object?.
He can feel the possessive, protective part of him start to take over, practically roaring in his chest not to let this guy get anywhere near her. âYou lay one damn hand on her, and I'll rip your arm off.â
Katherine tries to calm him down, "Ignore him."
She tries to pull him away, but the man keeps running his damn mouth. No matter how much she tries to pull him away, Jacob's whole damn body is tense and rigid. His eyes stay glued to the guy because there's no way in hell he's just going to ignore what he said, the way he's been looking at her. And hearing the guy keep talking, he's only getting more pissed. His words come out through gritted teeth.
âCan't exactly ignore him when he's running his damn mouth, princess.â
She cups his cheek, making him look at her. "C'mon, let's go home." She tells him.
"Come over here sweetheart and sit on my lap." The man taunts, "I'll make sure you're taken care of."
Katherine rolls her eyes, "Oh shut up, you goddamn pig!."
"Oh, she's a feisty one." He laughs, "It'll be fun breaking you in on my cock." That comment makes Jacob snap, lunges at him with a hard fist to the jaw.
Seeing the look on her face, seeing her pleading with him to ignore the guy and just go home, it almost makes him give in. But then the guy opens his damn mouth again, making that comment to her. And the image that pops into his head, the thought of her with that prick, of him putting his hands on her. It's all too much, and in that moment, he snaps.
He's lunging at the guy, and then his fist is colliding right with his jaw. A fight breaks out between Jacob and the man. Katherine is pushed around in the crowd of people as they try to intervene.
The fighting that breaks out is chaotic and intense, the two of them throwing punches and going at it. It puts the entire crowd into a frenzy. And in the midst of it, in all the chaos, Jacob completely loses sight of her. He can't see her in the crowd, and that realization makes his stomach drop.
He beat the guy to a bloody pulp, and he loses track of Katherine. He looks around frantically, searching for his girl.
Once the guy is bruised and bleeding and lying unconscious on the ground, Jacob's eyes scan the crowd, looking for any sign of her. But there's so many people, and all the chaos and the adrenaline in his chest from the fight. He can't see her anywhere, and the realization she's lost in the crowd only makes the panic in his chest worsen. âGoddammit, princess, where are you?.â
He hears a scream coming from outside the building. "Jacob! Help!."
The second he hears her scream, hears his name being called, his head jerks in the direction of the sound. And when he sees her outside, he's instantly moving. He's pushing through the crowd, practically racing out the door to get to her.
âKat?!.â He runs outside, pushing his way through the crowd. He finds her getting dragged away by a couple of Blighters.
"Let go of me, you bastards!." She shouts. They both laugh, "She's a feisty one, ain't she?." one of them says. "Pin her down, I'll get her skirt off." the other says.
"No! Jacob!." She shouts, trying to fight them off.
He's sprinting forward as fast as he can, adrenaline making his pace faster than before. The sight of her being dragged away, struggling to fight them off, and hearing them talk about her like she's just a damn object to be used and toyed with. It's all making him see red in his damn vision. âGet your damn hands off her!.â
One of them loosens his grip on her, startled by Jacob's sudden presence.
She reaches for one of their knives, stabbing one of the Blighters in the throat, and he falls back. She does the same with the other, and he falls on top of her. This would be the first time she has killed someone.
Watching her stab with the knife, getting the upper hand for a second is making the panic in his chest lessen just a tiny bit, the hope of her getting away from them growing. But she's still pinned by one of the bastards, the man's body on top of her and trying to fight to overpower her.
She kicks the dead Blighter off of her. A few strains of blood on her dress,
Seeing that she's off him and free, he makes a beeline for her, wrapping an arm around her waist and bringing her flush against him. The relief in his chest at finding her safe, still here and alive, it's like a weight lifted. His hold on her is tight, and he's practically cradling her against him as he stares at her, taking in the sight of her and making sure she's unharmed.
She wraps her arms around him. Knowing he was worried that she might've gotten kidnapped or worse.
He can feel the way she wraps her arms around him, the way she hugs him back. And he's embracing her, hugging her tight against him, so damn grateful she's okay, that she wasn't taken or worse. He speaks, his voice low and tight. âAre you alright? Did they hurt you?.â
She shakes her head, "I'm fine. No, they didn't."
Hearing that makes the relief course even deeper in his chest, the feeling of her in his arms making him almost not want to let go right now. He hugs her even closer, speaking up again, the words quiet and low. âGoddammit. I thought I lost you.â
They go to leave, he changes back into his usual assassin attire, and as they're leaving, the man that was making explicit comments to Katherine steps out of the building. His face was all bloody and bruised up, stumbling as he walked. She sees him, and looks up at Jacob, knowing he did that to him. He sees the man too, and he isn't at all sorry about the damage he did to the guy. If anything, he's satisfied. Seeing him bloodied and bruised makes him feel a little better. In fact, he even stands a little taller and pulls her closer, making a possessive gesture and holding her against him.*
They walk to their carriage. He keeps his arm wrapped around her, protectively guiding her to the carriage. Even when they reach it, he keeps her close to him, not wanting to let her go just yet. Once inside, he sits next to her, keeping her pressed close by the side of him, his arm still wrapped around her.
Later that night, they're fast asleep in their bed. Katherine wakes up to use the loo. Jacob is still asleep.
She does her business and goes back to the bedroom. She sees his hidden blade gauntlet on the nightstand. She looks back towards their bed, and he's still asleep. She grabs it and puts it on.
He is fast asleep, not noticing the fact that she got up to go to the bathroom, nor that she grabbed his gauntlet. With the quiet of the night, he remains asleep, still deep in undisturbed slumber, unaware of the fact that she's got it on.
She does the wrist flick movement, and the blade pops out. She does the same thing, and the blade goes back in.
The blade moves in and out, the familiar flicking sound in the otherwise silent room. Her eyes are on the gauntlet, fascinated, and she does it again, the blade flicking out and back, again and again, a small smile on her face.
She is distracted by the gauntlet, playing with it.
Jacob tosses in his sleep, "Mhm.. Kat." He mumbles in his sleep, his hand slides across the bed towards Katherine's side, he feels an empty spot, his eyes open.
"Katherine?." He mutters softly. He gets up, and immediately he hears the sound of the blade from his gauntlet. He walks towards the next room, and sees her playing with his gauntlet. She giggles softly to herself.
His eyes land on her, and he recognizes his gauntlet on her arm. He just stops in the doorway for a second, taking in the sight of her and the way she grins as she plays with the blade, and she doesn't even realize he's watching her.
She continues to play with his gauntlet. Not realizing he's standing behind her, watching her play his weapon. He crosses his arms and leans against the door frame, watching her with a small, amused smirk on his face.
âYa know, I don't think that gauntlet was meant to be used as a toy, princess.â
She is startled, she hides the gauntlet behind her back as she turns to face him. "I wasn't playing with anything." She says innocently.
He snorts and raises an eyebrow, his eyes flickering to the gauntlet hiding behind her back.
âDon't lie to me princess, I know exactly what you were doing with that gauntlet.
He pushes himself off the door frame and walks closer to her, eyes fixed on her.
Katherine chuckles nervously, "I wasn't doing anything with the gauntlet."
She tries to take it off while hiding it behind her back.
He keeps approaching her, his gaze still focused on her. His expression and the way he walks towards her is almost predatory, like he's closing in on his prey. He can tell she's nervous, and he knows exactly how to toy with her when she's that way.
âOh, come on princess, lying to me is never a good idea.â He stops directly in front of her, close enough to feel her breath hit his face and to feel the slight tension in her body.
"No I'm not." She says innocently, still struggling to get it off.
She tries to distract him, kissing him on the lips, but he knows better than to fall for her distraction
"Princess, we both know that won't work."
She looks up at him with innocent eyes, all while trying to get the gauntlet off her arm.
He can't help but chuckle when she tries to distract him with a kiss. She's adorable, trying to get out of trouble and pretend she wasn't doing something she wasn't supposed to. And her damn innocent puppy dog eyes just make him want to laugh and tease her the more. His smirk becomes even more pronounced, amused by her stubbornness and her efforts to pretend.
âThat old trick isn't goin' to work on me this time, princess. I know what you were doin'.â
He gently grabs her arm from behind her back. Seeing his gauntlet on her arm.
"Oh? Howâd that get on my arm?." She asks innocently.
He can't help but laugh at her question and her attempt to act innocent. The fact that she's actually acting like it somehow magically ended up on her arm and that he somehow wouldn't notice it is too damn cute, and it makes him want to tease her more.
âPrincess, you really think I'm going to buy that you just don't know how it got on your arm, huh? *He lightly taps her nose.â
Katherine gives him her innocent, sweet eyes. "I don't know how it got on my arm." She giggles.
Oh, he knows he shouldn't buy it, that he shouldn't be falling for this. But somehow, the way she looks at him, with those big, adorable, wide eyes and her sweet damn smile, it's making him want to cave. But, still, he has to be a little teasing.
âPrincess, I'm not that gullible.â He chuckles, still holding her arm, his other hand going to touch her cheek.â He takes the gauntlet off her arm, tossing it on the nightstand.
He tosses the gauntlet onto the nightstand. He's still got a tight hold of her wrist, keeping her close as he leans down to her level, his voice low but still playful.
âCome on, princess. It was literally on your arm. You can't expect me to just buy your little "I don't know how that got there" act.â
"Well, maybe... just maybe... I wanted to try it on." She admits.
He hears the confession, and there's the hint of a pleased smirk on his face, his eyebrows raising. Hearing her admit it so quickly is satisfying, and it makes that possessive part of him swell in his chest.
âOh really? And why's that, princess?.â
She shrugs, "Do I need one?." She bites her lip.
He shakes his head, a soft chuckle escaping his chest, and he steps even closer. The feeling of her, his little princess, standing right in front of him and trying to act innocent and stubborn, it's still too goddamn cute, and now she's biting her lip, his hand on her hip again, his fingers gripping her hip a little tighter, and he feels damn possessive, wanting her against his body, wanting to push her back onto the bed. âYou don't. But I'd still like to hear one.â
"I... was curious.â
His smirk widens, and he pulls her even closer, their bodies almost pressed together now. His fingers dig into her hip, and he can feel how close she is to him. And her confession, it's feeding that possessive, masculine part of him even more, and he can't help but tease her just* *a little more. His voice is quiet and low, almost a growl.
âCurious, hm? Curious about what exactly, princess?.â
Katherine can feel his body tense up. Feeling his possessiveness grow more and more. God, she loves it when he gets like this. It's so arousing, especially when he calls her 'princess'. "Curious about how it works.â
He can see it on her, how much she likes it when he gets like this. How much her breathing increases and how the way she's pressed up against him tightens just a little, and he knows she loves it when he calls her "princess" and he leans down to get right next to her ear.
âCurious how it works, huh? *He runs his other hand down her side. His hold onto her hip tight and possessive.â
"Mhm, just curious.â she purrs.
He can feel the way her voice is quiet and almost soft, and god, she's still trying to stay innocent and stubborn, even when she's so clearly pressed up against him, her body close and practically in his grip. He chuckles softly, and he's getting even more turned on. He's got her right where he wants her, and she doesn't even realize it. His voice is low and teasing, the hand on her hip moving up her side. âJust curious, huh?.â
Katherine raises an eyebrow, and smirks "Why else would I try it on?."
He can see the smirk on her face and the way she raises and eyebrow, and he's got her right where he wants her, and the way she tries to act stubborn and sweet, but it's so damn cute. His hand moves to the back of her neck, and he leans in even closer, practically towering over her.
âAnd you didn't think to ask me before you tried it on?.â
"Well, you were asleep." She says this as if she wasn't asleep either.
He's right up in her personal space now, his hand on her neck and the other pressed against her back, holding her tight against him. And he snorts and lifts an eyebrow, a knowing smirk on his face. âOh really? So you were awake this whole time?.â
"I woke up to use the loo, then I saw your gauntlet and I was curious, so i tried it on." She wraps her arms around his neck.
He feels her arms wrap around his neck, and he smirks, a possessive edge to the look on his face as she pulls herself a little closer, her body close to his. Hearing her explanation makes him chuckle, the sound low in his chest.
Jacob chuckles, âWell, I suppose that's a good excuse, princess.â
"It is... and I assume you're gonna have to punish me now?." She teases.
He can tell she's teasing, and the way she says it, all damn innocent and all while being completely against him, he has to let out another quiet chuckle. His hand runs up her back, pulling her close against him. And her question just makes his inner possessive even more. âPunish you, huh?.â He smirks âYou want that?.â
"Well... I was touching something that wasn't mine, and I'm yours, and you're allowed to touch me." She says hoping he knows where she's going with this.
His smirk becomes even more pronounced, her words and the obvious meaning behind them feeding the possessive and possessive desire in his chest.
âYou're mine, huh? Well, that's true, I do get to touch you. I get to touch whatever I want, don't I princess?.â She loves it when he gets this way. All possessive and protective. It's such a turn-on to her. She wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him back towards their bedroom, leading him towards the bed.
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