I go by Angel here on the interwebs and spend my time writing fan fiction for the show that’s not natural. Loving "Kaleo" but wondering how exactly to pronounce it. Why is getting money for college so hard? Request away, ask me random questions, anything you wish! MASTER LIST
This blog is dead. Has been for almost two years, but I’m terrible at actually officially ending things (and doing things in general).
Don’t worry, the blog will stay up, and all of the writing will stay up, but I won’t be updating it or using it anymore. I will always have a special place for Supernatural, but about two years back it was replaced by The Elder Scrolls games. I haven’t seen like the last two seasons even.
That said, I AM starting a new account so I can have a fresh start with this semi-recent obsession. If ya’ll are into TES, you can find me over at @definitely-lore-friendly. There’s nothing there because I made it like ten minutes ago, but that’ll change. (If that link doesn’t work let me know, I’ll be on here enough to check messages).
Presently, my plans are to have that new blog be the hub of all thing TES-related, and eventually I want to make a few side-blogs for some OC roleplay with some characters I have made for those games. I would LIKE to do art stuff related to TES and my characters, but I have weird standards and we’re not there yet.
For now, feel free to hit me up with questions, rants, random musings (on the new blog), and maybe I’ll do a poll about which character I should start RPing with first once I get some traction. I love Skyrim, binged Oblivion, have plans to play Morrowind (and have watched a play-through), and am currently spending way too much time playing The Elder Scrolls Online. I also know more lore than is probably healthy and can read and write Daedric.
Y’all have been fantastic, thanks for the likes, follows, reblogs, fic suggestions, feedback, and general awesomeness.
So, I know it’s been like a year since you’ve seen or heard anything from me, but I’d like to ask you guys for a favor.
I need help finding somebody. A dog, not one I own, but one I had hoped to own and came so close to owning.
She’s a basset hound named Daisy Mae/May (the shelter and the website had different spellings) and she was being fostered through a shelter in Fenton, Michigan. She has a scar on her right ear, she’s four years old, her favorite toy is a stuffed lamb called Lambchop, and I think she came from Kentucky. My mom and I went out to visit her on Friday, May 17, 2019 and set it up with the foster to come back on Sunday to formally adopt her (my mom had a wedding rehearsal to attend and the actual wedding the next day, so we didn’t have enough time for the adoption interview Friday)
Through a series of disappointing events/decisions, she ended up going to an adoption event at the Detroit Zoo in Detroit, Michigan on Saturday, May 18 and got adopted there. It’s not really anybody’s fault in particular, just a lack of communication it sounds like.
I’m hoping you guys might be able to help me find out who adopted her.
I’m not looking to take Daisy May away from them or make anybody feel bad about anything that’s happened, but part of what’s hurting so bad about this is not knowing where she ended up. That’s all I want to know. Knowing where she is and that whoever got her really loves her I think will help me feel a little better.
We lost my dog of nine years last year to cancer. When I met Daisy May, it really felt like she filled a hole I thought had healed over at least a little. It sounds cliché and cheesy, I know. But I really connected to her. I felt whole again. Within ten minutes of meeting her, I knew I loved her and wanted her more than anything in the world. There was no hesitation, no feeling like I wouldn’t care about her as much as I care about our other dog.
When I found out she’d been adopted by someone else, I went home and locked myself in my room to cry, and then did the same thing again later after failing to take my mind off it. I actually went to my mom because I needed to be held - I never ask for that. Not even a night’s sleep has dulled the pain very much. I still can’t thing about anything else. Last night I told God I’d give up Skyrim and that he could cancel The Elder Scrolls series if it meant things could be changed (and I LOVE the Elder Scrolls like I used to love Supernatural).
To be honest, my hopes aren’t super high for this, but I’m still going to try and would appreciate any assistance you guys could give. Reblogging, asking your Michigan friends, anything. Like I said, I am not out to take her away or make anyone hurt, I’m just looking for some peace of mind.
Do you still write for the littlest Winchester? I looooove them so much♥️ i can’t even tell you how many times i’ve read each of them bc i lost count of that lol. Just wanted to say a thank you for that:) They really bring me joy in my life♥️
Awww, I’m so happy they bring you joy! I guess I’ve been on a sort of indefinite hiatus. I picked up playing Skyrim almost a year ago and kind of…stopped watching…but I have been meaning to catch up. When I get going again I’ll be sure to write another Littlest Winchester!
So I know it’s been radio silence from me for forever but I thought you should all know there’s a cute guy in my painting class who kinda looks like Jared Padalecki.
Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel
Warning: None
Word Count: 1,296
Summary: After his confrontation with Kerubiel, Castiel realizes how much danger the fledgling is in and returns to the brothers to warn them.
Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six
Story
Having been inflicted by one of very few weapons that threaten an angel, the wound in Castiel’s shoulder stubbornly refuses to close, seeps blood and Grace, and soaks up the energy required to heal his other, minor wounds. The pain of it is sharp, the arm prickly and numb, the throbbing deep and reverberating down his spine, but he can’t tell if it pierced through his back. Coddling his injured left shoulder and feeling the sting of his brother’s other blows, he teleports out of the alley and back the Winchesters’ motel. His aim is off, and he lands just outside their room. When Dean opens the door, Cass’ strength reaches its end, and he’s half dragged into the room by the older brother.
“What happened, Cass?” Dean demands to know, letting his friend rest on the floor.
Cass sits forward, bracing his weight on his good arm and breathing hard. “They found me. They know I’m hiding her.” He winces when Dean presses a rag against his wound.
“Who’s ‘they’?”
“Angels. They want to kill her. And me.”
“Well, they ain’t gettin’ in here. The whole damn room’s warded against fifty shades of evil.”
“You have to go. You have to get her away from here. Take her someplace hidden.”
“There’s no place close by.”
“Then drive all night if you must. Please go, Dean.” Cass fixes his best friend with a look as imploring as the one from the day he asked the brothers to keep the fledgling as their ward. It works. Dean shakes his head, quickly ties the rag around Cass’ shoulder, and begins gathering his things. In the next seconds, Sam hands him the baby so that he can mimic his brother.
Nestled in the crook of the angel’s right arm, the oblivious five-month-old stares at him and at the motion of her caretakers with her big blue eyes, kicks at the lapel of his trench coat, and sucks on her yellow pacifier. Soon she should begin babbling, and then in a flash she’ll be talking and asking an endless number of questions. All she has to do is survive being hunted. As he does each time he sees the fledgling, Cass wonders how anyone could want to harm this tiny, beautiful, perfect creature. Unlike everyone around her, she’s innocent, perhaps the only one among them deserving of peace and happiness. Cass loves her with an intensity he’s never had for anyone else.
When Dean tries to get him on his feet, he pulls away and tries to hand over the baby. “Leave me here. I’ll hold them off if they come this way.”
“I ain’t leavin’ you here. You’re coming with us.”
“They might be following me.”
“If they find us, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Let’s go.”
Cass is, honestly, feeling drowsy, sore, and a little shaky, but he holds on tight to the baby and follows the Winchesters out to their car. Once he’s settled in the backseat, weariness overtakes him. Dean starts the car, and as he succumbs to sleep, he’s aware of Sam taking the fledgling and strapping her into her car seat. Her curious burbling is the last thing he hears. Sometime later he awakens to find that his minor wounds have healed and that the scenery has changed: to the right is a forest, to the left is a guardrail and, beyond it and a ways down, the edge of a small lake.
“Why have we stopped?” he asks.
Dean replies, “We’ve got company.”
* * * * *
Hands gripping the wheel of the idling Impala, Dean stares out the front window at the four figures blocking the two-lane highway. They stand in an even line, but the tallest – a man so masculine it’s almost cliché – is without a doubt their leader. Behind them, the late afternoon sun dips towards the horizon and stretches their shadows all the way to the front fender. The group moves toward the car once it’s made a full stop.
“Sam, get the kid,” Dean orders. He reaches underneath the seat for the silver dagger he keeps there – not very effective against an angel but better than nothing – and braces for the impending fight. This nameless baby who’s been riding in his car and puking on his shirts has burrowed her way into his heart, and nothing and no one will ever take her from him. No longer does he wish for Castiel to find another home; that’s what he wants to give her.
The angels reach the car, each one opening a door and reaching for whichever man is closest. Dean lets himself be pulled outside by the drill sergeant one in khakis and a wife beater before he starts slashing. He manages to get a few good strikes in before the angel gets reoriented. Then it’s a downhill battle. Dean twists and ducks, kicks and jabs, but the angel would be a rock even if he relied on the strength, skill, and dexterity of his vessel alone. In a move that catches Dean off guard, his knife hand is twisted until he’s forced to drop the dagger, his arms are pinned to his back, and the edge of an angel blade is pressed against his neck. From this precarious perspective, he can see that Cass is holding his own against a pair of black angels, but Sam has been cornered with the infant and the demon blade with a blade pointed at his neck by a hilariously petite Japanese woman.
“Hold off, Castiel,” shouts his captor, “or the Winchesters will have their throats slit.”
Castiel backs away from his opponents who, surprisingly, don’t take advantage of his retreat but rather take two steps back towards their leader. In the lull that follows, the baby’s fussing mingles with the breeze off the lake.
“End this madness, Kerubiel.”
“You are in no position to argue, brother. Give yourself and the child over to us, and we’ll allow these two to walk free.”
“The child has done nothing wrong. Take me and leave her be.”
“If you continue to bargain, I will slit this mudmonkey’s throat come after you myself while he bleeds out. Take the fledgling from the tall one there and bring her to me.”
“Don’t do it, Cass,” Dean says, stopping when the blade is pressed more persuasively against his Adam’s apple.
Castiel studies the scene around him, left arm held a bit stiffly, then sags and turns to Kerubiel. “If I come quietly with the baby,” he starts despairingly, “you’ll let Sam and Dean go free?”
“You have my word.”
Slowly, Cass walks over to Sam and reaches around the woman for the five-month-old. Confused and sickeningly worried, Dean is helpless to watch his friend take the baby from Sam – who can’t resist much with a knife point under his jaw – and carry her back to Kerubiel.
“Cass, no.”
“Let them go,” Cass demands. “Once they’re free, you can have us both.”
Kerubiel nods and releases Dean who tries to read his friend as he stumbles away. “Nuriel, Nithael, Mebehiah, back to me.”
Even when Kerubiel lifts the fussing infant from his arms, Castiel does nothing to turn the tides. When Dean defensively moves to intervene, the tiny woman blocks his path and stares him down. Sam joins him in watching the exchange, both of them at a loss for everything.
“You’re cute for an abomination,” Kerubiel says to the fledgling. Then to Cass, “Will you come quietly, or should I have you bound?”
“I’ll come quietly, but I have just one question.”
“What?”
Cass casts a quick, sly look over his shoulder at the brothers, and then a grin spreads across the angel’s face. “Do you even know me, bitch?”
Hey guys does anybody know about a women who either has a blog or a book (not sure which) about living/eating on a very low budget? I heard about her forever ago - apparently she was very poor but managed to get by on what little she had (particularly with meal plans and eating healthy), and then wrote it someplace so other people could use that information. I can’t remember for the life of me.
Anybody who can help me with installing/using a mod for Skyrim SE on PC?
I’ve gotten one to work just fine before, but I’m having trouble with a couple others I’d like to play. Any help/explanations you guys can offer would be greatly appreciated.
DETAILED DESCRIPTION OF ISSUE:
So I’m having pretty much the same issue with two mods: Interesting NPC’s and Beyond Skyrim: Bruma. Nexus mod manager doesn’t work for me, so I’m trying to install them manually. I got the download, made sure I met the requirements, and moved the files into the data folder inside the Skyrim folder (I know this is how to install mods - I did this with Legacy of the Dragonborn and that one works exactly how it should).
Problem is, after I enable them and the game reloads my files, it crashes and will not launch again. It brings up the first menu, but when I hit play, it closes and the game never starts.
Now, if I go back into the data files and delete the BSA files (and leave the ESM files), the game will launch just fine and I can play. NPC’s adds it’s new locations and characters, and Bruma adds the gates/guards to Cyrodiil and I can even pick the lock and enter Bruma itself. Here’s where another issue happens.
With NPC’s, I can have conversations with the new characters, voice acting comes through, they walk around and such, but I do not get quests (there should be quite a few of them who give quests), and the ones who can become followers will say something like “Lead on, then” but never actually follow me. They don’t even mention if the problem is me having a follower already.
With Bruma, the guards and the gate to Cyrodiil are added, and when I walk up to it the Legate who lets you in greets me as he’s supposed to, but there is no voice acting, and there is no way to progress the dialogue after the first option (saying you want to enter Cyrodiil). I don’t believe there was music either, and this mod adds three hours of custom music. I did pick the lock once and enter Bruma that way, and everything on the other side of the gate was discoverable (again, no dialogue, not even the random “huh” or “need something?” from passersby).
I want to say it has something to do with those BSA files, but I don’t know what as they work fine with Legacy of the Dragonborn and even the diverse dragons mod I got from Bethesda.net, and I have seen playthroughs of Bruma or with NPC’s installed that work just fine. If you guys have any insight as to what might be causing this issue, I would greatly appreciate the help.
Turns out the problem was just that I didn’t download the Special Edition version of the mod. Goes for Interesting NPC’s too but I’m not seeing an SE version there. So this was all my fault. But now we know.
I would love to see more of The Fledgling. Do you have any plans to continue it?
Yeeeaaahhh…I’ve got like three written parts and an ending I’m about done with that SHOULD HAVE been posted by now, but apparently if I miss one scheduled posting it throws me off for months. So yeah, I’ll get around to it eventually…or maybe just keep playing Skyrim till my eyes fall out…
Anybody who can help me with installing/using a mod for Skyrim SE on PC?
I’ve gotten one to work just fine before, but I’m having trouble with a couple others I’d like to play. Any help/explanations you guys can offer would be greatly appreciated.
DETAILED DESCRIPTION OF ISSUE:
So I’m having pretty much the same issue with two mods: Interesting NPC’s and Beyond Skyrim: Bruma. Nexus mod manager doesn’t work for me, so I’m trying to install them manually. I got the download, made sure I met the requirements, and moved the files into the data folder inside the Skyrim folder (I know this is how to install mods - I did this with Legacy of the Dragonborn and that one works exactly how it should).
Problem is, after I enable them and the game reloads my files, it crashes and will not launch again. It brings up the first menu, but when I hit play, it closes and the game never starts.
Now, if I go back into the data files and delete the BSA files (and leave the ESM files), the game will launch just fine and I can play. NPC’s adds it’s new locations and characters, and Bruma adds the gates/guards to Cyrodiil and I can even pick the lock and enter Bruma itself. Here’s where another issue happens.
With NPC’s, I can have conversations with the new characters, voice acting comes through, they walk around and such, but I do not get quests (there should be quite a few of them who give quests), and the ones who can become followers will say something like “Lead on, then” but never actually follow me. They don’t even mention if the problem is me having a follower already.
With Bruma, the guards and the gate to Cyrodiil are added, and when I walk up to it the Legate who lets you in greets me as he’s supposed to, but there is no voice acting, and there is no way to progress the dialogue after the first option (saying you want to enter Cyrodiil). I don’t believe there was music either, and this mod adds three hours of custom music. I did pick the lock once and enter Bruma that way, and everything on the other side of the gate was discoverable (again, no dialogue, not even the random “huh” or “need something?” from passersby).
I want to say it has something to do with those BSA files, but I don’t know what as they work fine with Legacy of the Dragonborn and even the diverse dragons mod I got from Bethesda.net, and I have seen playthroughs of Bruma or with NPC’s installed that work just fine. If you guys have any insight as to what might be causing this issue, I would greatly appreciate the help.
Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel
Warning: None
Word Count: 1,399
Summary: Dean confronts Castiel about what the next steps are for the fledgling, and things come to a head with Kerubiel and the other radicals.
Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five
Story
Dean is pulled from an interesting though not unfamiliar dream by Castiel shaking his shoulder. He startles, but when he realizes it’s only his friend, he groans and turns back over. The baby kept him and Sam up all night.
“Sup, Cass?” he mumbles.
“I got your message. Were you serious?”
“Which message?”
“The angel. Did Sam really see an angel?”
Noticing the panic is Castiel’s voice, Dean sluggishly sits up. “What’s going on with you?”
“Answer the question.”
“Yeah, Cass. Sam saw an angel on a walk in the park. Don’t worry. It’s fine.”
But Cass worries. Cass stumbles as he backs up, and mouth forms a thin line. Casting a glance at the fledgling asleep in her dingy bassinet, he starts pacing. He looks out the window and rubs his neck. Dean sighs and wakes up his brother.
“Please tell Cass we handled the angel situation.”
“It’s fine, Cass,” Sam confirms through a yawn. “We skipped town and drove for ten hours. This whole room is warded. The kid is fine.”
“That was three days ago. Why are you just now showing up?”
Castiel checks the window again. “I’ve been . . . working. I needed to stay away so I won’t draw attention. There are rumors now.”
“About the fledgling?”
“Yes. A group of pre-creation radicals thinks she’s real.”
“That’s never – what are you doing? Don’t wake her up.”
Dean watches his friend scoop the infant from the bassinet, watches him hesitate with his hand over her heart, watches him shut his eyes and lower that hand. Then he hears the baby scream at his touch, sees her thrash and squirm. He and Sam are up in a flash, fully awake now, but Castiel thrusts the fledgling into Dean’s arms before a word can be said, drops her like a bad habit and recoils.
“I engraved her ribs,” he murmurs. “She’s safer this way.”
With her head on his shoulder, Dean rocks the fledgling and pats her back. “You’re okay, sweetheart. I know it hurts.”
After a minute, the baby settles into gentle whispers and hiccups, and Dean sits beside Castiel who has been wringing his hands. Now they match, the brothers and the fledgling: same carvings, same angel responsible.
“What’s up with you, buddy?” Dean asks.
“Nothing, I just . . .” Castiel gazes at the dozing infant. “I can’t even protect her without hurting her.”
“Cass, she’s over it. Tomorrow morning, she won’t remember it. And like you said, she’s safer.”
“I don’t want to hurt her.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong, but we should talk. Give me your hand.”
When Cass doesn’t move, Dean grabs his hand and brings up to rest atop the baby’s shoulders. There are two small bumps between her shoulder blades. He only noticed them yesterday, they don’t cause her discomfort, and he only has one guess what they might be.
“Any idea what those are?”
Touching lightly, Cass traces the bumps with his fingertips. “Her wings, I guess. She wasn’t born with them. Maybe this is the start of them.”
“You think they’ll come in at some point?”
“Yes.”
Dean nods. “What’re Sam and I supposed to do when that happens?”
“I suppose I would come back and help.”
“What about all the other stuff? I assume she’s got Grace, so she’ll have to learn what that is and how to use it. She’ll want to know about her kind, and somebody’s gotta teach her how to use her wings when they do come in. Cass, Sam and I can’t teach her how to be an angel.”
“I know that.”
“There’s two options. One, you stick around, permanently, and help raise her.”
“I can’t do that. It’s too dangerous.”
“Two, you find her a better home like you said you would almost three weeks ago.”
“I know. I’m . . . I’m working on it.” Cass stands. “I’ll call you.”
“Cass, hold up.”
But Castiel is gone.
* * * * *
For a while, Castiel strikes out on his own. He counts the days as two weeks turns into three and then four, ducks calls from Sam and Dean, and avoids his own kind by taking solo assignments. The solitude, though refreshing, makes it harder to keep his mind distracted. It goes back to the fledgling, what to do with her. At the same time, there’s less opportunity to say something that would endanger her.
On week five, Cass takes a personal day and takes to the forgotten slums of the urban United States. Wandering the alleys, he gives miracles to the poor, the sick, the homeless. In one afternoon, he’s healed and fed those who let him come near. It feels good to be healing and bringing comfort. For once, he knows what to do. The man in this last alley is blind, and when Castiel restores his sight, he gets to his feet, thanks his savior profusely, stumbles out into the sunlight he hasn’t seen in decades.
“That man there,” he says to the stranger at the end of the alley, “does miracles.”
Castiel straightens and faces the stranger. “What are you doing here, Kerubiel?”
“I came to check on you. We were all a little worried about this isolation kick you’re on, but here you are performing miracles.” Kerubiel glances over his shoulder at where the homeless man made his exit. “That was always your problem, Castiel. Too much heart.”
“If you’re here to make fun of me, I’ll be on my way.”
“Oh, no.” Kerubiel stops Castiel by placing a hand on his shoulder. “I also came so we could have a little talk.”
“About what?”
“The fledgling. The abomination.”
Rolling his eyes, Castiel shrugs off his brother’s hand. “There’s no fledgling. You’re wasting your time.”
“I beg to differ. In fact, I think you can help me more than anyone else.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because I know it’s yours.”
On the outside, Cass holds his brother’s stare and tries to keep his face emotionless, but his stomach drops. Has someone been spying on him? On the Winchesters?
“Nuriel saw one of your beloved Winchesters a few weeks back. She told me they have an infant with them. Why would that be?”
“They must have found it on a hunt. There’s no fledgling. She doesn’t exist.”
“She?” Kerubiel lifts an eyebrow. “It seems she does exist. You’re hidden her well, brother. Engraved her ribs? Warded the whole building?”
“Get out of my way.”
Castiel pushes past Kerubiel, but he doesn’t make it two steps before he’s pulled back and thrown to the ground. Two sets of arms drag him up – Nuriel and Nithael – and pin him against the wall while Mebehiah hovers nearby. Kerubiel stands in front of Castiel, arms crossed and chin up.
“You and Haniel go on a mission somewhere in West Africa. You come back, she disappears for a year, and then she comes back and commits suicide. Meanwhile, Sam and Dean have acquired an infant. It’s not hard to notice the truth.”
“There’s no fledgling.” The denial earns him a blow to the mouth, and he spits blood.
“Let me make this clear. There is a fledgling, you are the father, and you will tell me where she is.”
“Or what?”
Drawing his angel blade, Kerubiel waves it tauntingly. “Or I’ll kill you slowly. Where’s the fledgling?”
There’s no point in denying anymore, so Cass says, “Bite me.”
His brother strikes him again, this time in the stomach, and he gasps and his legs wobble. “I said tell me!”
“And I said . . . bite me.”
The blade plunges into his shoulder and cries out as his spine convulses in pain. Still, he reveals no information. Nothing Kerubiel could do will make him give up the infant’s whereabouts. He keeps his mouth shut blow after blow. After a time, Nithael and Nuriel are ordered to drop him, and when they do, he sinks to his knees, gasping for breath. Kerubiel pounces and pins him beneath one knee.
“I’m feeling generous today,” he hisses. “I’m going to kill you no matter what, but I’ll give you a second chance to be helpful. Take a day, then tell me where you’ve hidden the fledgling. If you don’t, I will make sure your last moments are spent in agony.”
He rises and tucks his blade away. “One day, Castiel.”
Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel
Warning: None
Word Count: 1,135
Summary: A hitch in the Winchesters’ aim to keep the baby angel protected puts them on the run, and Castiel has a run-in with Kerubiel and his followers.
Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four
Story
Sam enters the motel room much too rushed for Dean’s liking. It’s not the way he moves that Dean doesn’t like, but rather how he has the fledgling clutched to his shoulder and nearly smothered by his jacket. Now, Dean doesn’t claim to know much about parenting, but he’s pretty sure you’re not supposed to hold a baby like that. He’s handed the fledgling quickly, however, and his discomfort is alleviated.
“Have you heard from Cass yet?” asks Sam.
“Not a word. Same thing as every day for the past two weeks.” Dean nestles the infant in his lap and lets her dig her feet into his stomach. “Did you scare him off? Hm? Two days with you, and he runs away. What’re you hiding, huh?”
Waving her arms, the fledgling blows a razzberry. She makes Dean smile. Lately, she’s been developing at an astonishing rate. Only yesterday, it seems, her eyes were barely open, and now she’s wide-eyed and substantially more aware of her surroundings. If she had a name, she might recognize it by now. Sam and Dean have tried out a few names, but nothing seemed to fit. They gave up and decided that they don’t have the authority to name an angel. That job should go to Castiel if it goes to anyone.
Now Cass . . . there’s a walking conundrum. While his infant kin has been doing some growing, the angel has been entirely absent. He’s uncharacteristically quiet about the whole affair and hasn’t brought up finding her a permanent home since leaving her with them. From Dean’s perspective, it’s like his friend is ashamed, and to a degree he understands why. If Sam had a kid knowing it would be in danger of execution its whole life, Dean would be ashamed of him too. He would do what could be done to protect the child as Cass has done, but shame and anger would be with him forever. Yes, Dean understands Castiel, but when he looks at the baby, at her deep blue eyes and head of recently grown dark fuzz, he can’t shake the feeling that there’s information he’s missing.
“Dean!” barks Sam.
“Huh?” Dean looks up. “Why are you packing your stuff?”
Sam rolls his eyes. “I just told you. We need to leave town.”
“What? Why? We just got here. What’d you do this time?”
“Someone saw me and the baby in the park.”
“Well, it is a park.”
“Pretty sure it was an angel, Dean. Call Cass and let him know we’re leaving.”
“He won’t answer.”
“Then leave a message. Just do it quickly because we have to go.”
* * * * *
There are no less than thirty-six missed calls in Castiel’s inbox. A little less than one third of these calls are from Sam, and the rest are from Dean. Many of them have voicemails attached, and the angel has listened to a few.
“Cass? Hey, um, she won’t eat. Keeps whining every time I give her the bottle. Don’t know if something’s wrong. Call me back.”
“Cass” —this one had screaming in the background— “she’s so loud, I can’t find her pacifier – wait, never mind. It’s good. Call me back.”
“Cass? Could use a little help. Sam’s out for a run, and I ran out of diapers. Oh my God, there’s so much poop. Help me, Cass.”
“Cass? It’s me. How many times a day do babies spit up? Don’t know if this is normal or if we need a different formula. She puked all over my last clean shirt. Call me back.”
“Cass, it’s been more than a week. You’re supposed to be helping, remember? You can’t vanish like this. If there’s something wrong, tell us. Call me back.”
In Castiel’s opinion, Dean is acting like a helpless parent, and, well he is one, but he’s overreacting. As far as Cass is concerned, the fledgling’s needs are the same as any human baby’s with the added bonus of never getting sick. Maybe she can be injured at this young age, but she should become invulnerable with time. Really, the Winchesters needn’t worry about her physical health.
Meanwhile, the angel has immersed himself in Heaven’s inner workings. With so much still broken, there’s more than enough to keep him busy. He purposefully stays close to Kerubiel and the others while trying to not attract their attention. Harut is with him for many of his jobs, so it’s inevitable that she picks up on his pattern.
“Why do they concern you so much?” she finally asks him.
“They intend to kill, Harut.”
“There’s nothing to kill. There’s no fledgling. Castiel, our sister may have committed suicide, but there is no fledgling.”
“I have seen worse acts committed for false beliefs.”
Actually, it doesn’t surprise him when Kerubiel, his followers with him, corner him and Harut in a young forest. The leader of this band folds his arms and squares his shoulders. He and Castiel are evenly matched in strength and power, but Kerubiel has always needed to be bigger than anyone else, and his six-foot-six vessel – a well-trained army soldier with a buzz of dark hair – provides that illusion. Mebehiah, Nithael, and Nuriel, two male vessels of African descent and one female of Japanese, respectively, spread out in a half circle like obedient dogs.
“I hear you’ve been following us, brother,” Kerubiel says. “You think we mean harm.”
“Let us pass, Kerubiel. You have no quarrel with us.”
“I don’t appreciate being the subject of such whispers. We do not intend to murder our kin.”
“Then what are your intentions?”
“We mean to serve justice. A sacred law has been broken, and punishment must be given. We would kill only to make things right.”
“You mean to hunt down an innocent angel and an infant and slaughter them both. Broken laws or not, in what world is that not murder?” As he speaks, Castiel draws slowly closer to his taller brother until he is mere inches away, close enough to stare him down in an attempt to assert dominance.
“But you believe there is no infant, do you not?” Kerubiel replies calmly. “There is no reason to defend something that doesn’t exist.”
“What happens when your search fails? Will you falsely accuse one of our brothers and kill them to avoid looking the fool? I for one will not allow you to bring harm to any of us. Take your followers and leave the matter alone.”
Kerubiel narrows his eyes, saying slowly, “Do you have something to hide, brother?” Then he snaps his fingers, and all four angels vanish.
Castiel relaxes, shoulders sagging, and glances back at his sister. Harut is watching him with a mix of awe and fear.
Shaking her head, she mutters, “Sometimes I question your sanity, Castiel.”
Looking for show/movie suggestions. I’m on a vampire kick right now (the classic, gothic variety and not the wussy Twilight crap) but can’t find a lot of things to watch. So far I’ve seen Interview with a Vampire, Being Human, and What We Do in the Shadows. Any suggestions?
Also I’d take suggestions for things that are like The Office, P&R, Community, and B-99.
Request: Hey I love the littlest winchester series and I was wondering if you could do an uncle sam story where dean and cas are out working a case and sams on babysitting duty and his niece wants to go camping with her uncle and it's really fluffy where she gets scared and crawls into sams sleeping bag maybe have her ask sam how much he loves her somewhere in there? Thanks I love your work!
Story
When Dean is away, Sam is the one in charge of his four-year-old niece. She behaves in a more difficult way for him simply because he’s not Daddy, but she loves him and they get along just fine. Dean dotes too much and prefers to be the fun parent, but somehow it works and the little girl has grown into a respectful, well-mannered toddler and not an insufferable devil child. Still, it leaves Sam to be the stricter of the two. He does find, on this third day of Dean’s absence, a fun activity to do together.
“Whaddya say we go camping?” he asks.
His question is met with enthusiasm. They promptly make a run to the store for a pack of hotdogs and s’more supplies, but beyond that Sam can’t think about preparations normally. He starts a fire with materials from around the bunker and the lighter he keeps in his pocket, builds a tent with a tarp and some string, and sharpens two sticks with his pocketknife. His niece just thinks it’s so cool that he knows how to do all this stuff.
By the light of the setting sun, they roast hot dogs in the flames and marshmallows over the coals. Night falls right around the time they run inside to wash off the last sticky marshmallow bits, and Sam lets the little girl douse the fire before announcing that it’s time for bed. He prepares for resistance, but the idea of sleeping outside is so thrilling that the dread of bedtime is completely forgotten. The open-ended tent allows for a clear view of the night sky through the trees. Lulled by the sound of the wind in the trees, Sam drifts off easily, but it feels like only minute before his niece taps him on the shoulder.
“I’m scared,” she says.
“Do you want to go inside?”
The toddler shakes her head. “Can I sleep with you?”
“You mean in my sleeping bag? Yeah, if you can fit.”
It doesn’t surprise him when she manages to fit. Still, even her skinny little body makes the sleeping bag a tight fit. She tucks her head under his chin and absently fiddles with his shirt collar. Breathing with more effort now, Sam tries to fall asleep again, but the four-year-old isn’t done with him.
“Uncle Sammy?”
“Hmm.”
“How much do you love me?”
“Just a little bit less than your dad does.”
“Why do you love me less than Daddy?”
“Because it’s impossible for anyone to love you as much as your dad does.” He puts one arm out of the sleeping bag to make more room. “You should go to sleep or you’re gonna be really tired tomorrow.”
By some miracle, the little girl is done asking questions and falls asleep on top of her uncle. Sam finally gets some sleep, but misfortune comes in threes, and he’s greeted by a raindrop in the eye sometime in the early morning. The sound of rain pattering on the tarp stirs him to action. Getting out of the sleeping bag require waking his niece, but all she does is yawn and lay her head on his shoulder when he picks her up. The second he opens the door to the bunker, the clouds release rain in sheets. He breathes a sigh of relief, drops the sleeping bags on the landing, and carries the toddler to her room. She’s back to sleep in seconds, and so is Sam once he finds his own room.
Maybe four hours later, Dean gets back. The sound of the bunker door creaking shut wakes him up – again – but his excited niece running down the hall and greeting her father in a voice way too perky for the morning guarantees that he won’t be getting more rest anytime soon. He lies in bed as long as he can, thinking that he shouldn’t have given her sugar just before bedtime.
I can handle that Constantine was cancelled after one season but I can’t handle how they left it I mean “the Brujeria work for me” come on I need more don’t leave me hanging on that
Also I have problems with the way Being Human ended
I got into my dream school for this fall semester and I was lucky enough to get a lot of financial aid. However, I don’t get a payout until closer to school and I need to have my security deposit paid before then 😥
I have been getting as many hours as possible at work but it hasn’t been enough. I need about $900 in the next few weeks and my next check should be about $300 so ~$600 is my goal. I’m hoping some people here could help?
It would be really appreciated and if you’re comfortable giving out your address I would be happy send everyone very pretty personalized thank you cards!!
He died quietly in the night. He hadn’t been suffering much – or so he said – and aside from the progressive weakness, bouts of pain, and a bit of blood when he coughed, it didn’t look like he was, but he never looked as peaceful as he did the morning you found him. You and Sam both knew it was coming, but it still stunned you when it actually happened. The world got very quiet and has stayed that way, but nobody cried. Dean wouldn’t have wanted that. Per hunter tradition, you burned the body in a place away from any other people. Others attended, a handful of hunters who had worked with and respected Dean, and the ceremony is silent and muddied by rain. The ride home is silent save for the sound of the windshield wipers holding the water at bay, and Sam sits behind the wheel this time, this time and from now on.
Traffic is slow going in the downpour, and when you finally break off to the road that will take you home, mud impedes your progress. Bobby gave you one of his cabins when Dean got sick. It’s small, but it’s quiet and pretty much in the middle of nowhere. If Dean was going to refuse treatment, Bobby said, then he at least deserved peace during his final months. You like to think he had it. Parked outside the cabin, you sit with Sam for a long while listening to the rain. These last few days have been hard on him, you know, and now that everything is finally over, it’ll be hard to be in the cabin.
After a few minutes of looking out the window, you say, “I’m pregnant.”
Sam doesn’t react beyond a brief glance. “You wanna get married?”
“Yeah, alright.”
Another minute goes by before you brave the rain and the emptiness of the cabin and rush for the door. Tree cover provides some protection, but you still enter with your black dress damp and water dripping from your hair. A rumble of thunder shakes the house as the door closes. Sam stands behind you with his hands on your shoulders, and then he presses a kiss to your neck. The sofa is draped with the afghan Dean always had on his lap, and beyond the living room is his bedroom that he barely occupied but still contains his belongings. It hits you that you’ll never buy him pie again, never listen to his bitching about how nothing good is on TV anymore and then walk in on him watching soap operas an hour later.
“God,” you sigh. “Everything sucks right now.”
* * * * *
Everything about the wedding is simple. Plain white dress, a simple rose bouquet, a rental priest, a few chairs for the same half-dozen people who came to the funeral, and that’s about it. You set it up in the backyard of your cabin and use one of the two bedrooms to get dressed. Minutes before the ceremony takes place, Bobby comes in. He volunteered to walk you down the aisle, and he’s doubling as Sam’s best man. After assuring him that you’ll be all set in a few minutes, he leaves and closes the door.
“You look nice,” says another voice.
Whirling around, you come face to face with Dean. “You can’t scare me like that, Dean!”
“Sorry, I can’t quite control the coming and going thing, yet.” He looks down at himself like he’ll find some sort of switch that’ll answer all his problems. “You nervous?”
“About the wedding?” You shrug. “Not really. You really think I look good?”
“Compared to the usual dingy flannel and jeans, yeah. I still don’t understand how my brother got you to fall in love with him.”
“I’m gullible.”
Dean laughs. He first appeared about a week ago and scared you so bad you dropped the dish of mac and cheese you were making for dinner. The first encounter only lasted a few seconds, and you thought you were seeing things, but when he reappeared a few hours later, you knew what you were dealing with. Every now and then he pops up, never when Sam is around, and you’ve convinced him to not say anything to his brother about this . . . situation. Sam’s been through enough without having to say goodbye to Dean again.
With a sigh, you sit down on the bed, and Dean sits beside you. “Any luck figuring out why I’m still here?” he asks.
“Nothing yet. We burned your body, all your clothes, even that damn blanket you loved so much.”
“Have you gone through Sam’s things? He might still be holding onto that necklace he gave me when we were kids.”
“I’ve gone through everything. That didn’t feel morally right, so you know. It can’t be the car – you show up too far away from it – and I don’t think you have unfinished business. I honest to God have no idea why you’re still here.”
“Well, we’ll figure it out. We’ll find whatever it is, and then I can get out of your hair. But right now, you’ve got other things to worry about. Just think, (y/n). In ten minutes, you’re gonna be a Winchester.”
“I’m aware.”
“And seven months from now, you and my little brother are gonna be parents.”
“I’m aware.”
“Just do me one favor. Don’t name the kid after me. Give him his own name. I don’t want you thinking about the past when you look at the future.”
“I think that’s the deepest thing you’ve ever said to me. Alright, we’ll come up with something original.” You glance at the clock on the wall. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a wedding to get to. You gonna watch?”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
* * * * *
After the first week, you understand that babies have their own schedule. They’re like clockwork. It’s just that their schedule is on a two-hour rotation and it sucks all the energy out of those who are supposed to take care of them. By the time you feed, change, and otherwise satisfy a newborn, there’s a very small window of time for you to get in any self-care. Little Hannah has you walking around feeling like a zombie, but you love her to pieces. Sam has been very present the whole week, and both of you are so absorbed with caring for your daughter that you no longer have time to think about the other person who should be here.
On this night, Hannah goes to sleep easily, and you follow quickly. Sometime later, perhaps an hour, she wakes you with her fussing. Drowsily, you shuffle down the hall to her nursery, scoop her out of her crib, sit in the rocking chair, and put her to your breast without a second thought. Her little body is warm against your skin, her weight a pleasant feeling, and you lean back and close your eyes.
“Don’t go falling asleep.”
You jump a little, disturbing your daughter, but she’s quick to readjust and goes right back to business. “Haven’t seen you in a while,” you say with a yawn.
Dean shrugs. “With all of the running around you’ve been doing the last couple weeks, I figured I’d just be in the way.”
“I’ve got a million things stressing me out, what’s one more?”
“I’m sure I could figure out some way to make your life more difficult.”
“Careful. I’m so tired I might just be stupid enough to exorcise you.”
Dean rolls his eyes. Hannah makes a quiet, contented noise in the back of her throat. He steps around to the side of your chair and crouches down to have a closer look at her. Your breath fogs in the sudden chill he adds to the air, but the baby doesn’t fuss.
“She looks like you,” he says.
“She doesn’t look like anybody yet.”
“She will in a year or two.”
He stays by your side until Hannah dozes off in your arms. Carefully, you stand up and walk her back over to her crib. She yawns, stretches her arms out to the sides, and drifts deeper into dreamland. For a moment you watch her sleep and long for the time when you could be as peaceful as this, and Dean lingers by the doorway.
“I know why you’re stuck here,” you say.
Dean perks up, taking a step towards you. “Really?”
“I think so.” You pause, hesitating. “Do you remember that case you told me about, the one where one sister died, but she was stuck as a ghost because she donated a kidney to the other?”
“Vaguely. What are you getting at?”
“I know it’s not quite the same thing, but . . . I asked the doctor to do a blood test on Hannah.”
“Why would you . . .” Dean’s voice trails off, and then he goes what passes for white as a ghost. “Hannah? No, that was one time. The odds of that are one in, what, a million?”
“Blood doesn’t lie, Dean.”
He bites his lip and sweeps the room with his eyes. “Does Sam know?”
“You think I told him about the time I slept with his dying brother while we were dating?”
“Are you going to tell him?”
“Why would I do that? For the first time since you got sick, he’s happy. He’s got me, he’s got a daughter-”
“No, he doesn’t. I have a daughter. You can’t hide that forever. It’ll come out, it’s how these things work.”
You shake your head. “Just . . . leave this alone. Sam’s happy.”
“Let me get this straight. Hannah exists because you cheated on my brother once, I’m dead but stuck here because of her, I can’t tell Sam I’m here, and he doesn’t know he’s not Hannah’s father.”
“That about sums it up.”
“What happens when I go bad? You know it happens. Kind of inevitable. And Sam’s bound to catch me before then. Do you have any plan?”
“I’ll figure it out, okay? It’s gonna be fine.”
A rustling in the hallway, startles you both, and Dean immediately vanishes. Just in time, too, because Sam comes shuffling around the corner and peers into the nursery. “You okay? I heard somebody talking.”
“Yeah.” You give him a smile. “I was just talking to Hannah.”
“She gonna stay asleep this time?”
“Probably not.”
“Well, let’s take an hour while we’ve got it.” Sam kisses your temple and takes you by the hand.
As you follow him back to your own room, you glance back over your shoulder. Dean is no doubt still there – he can’t ever be too far from Hannah. Silently, you plead with him to keep quiet now and forever. It’ll all turn out okay. You will keep the truth safe – you have to.
Characters: Castiel, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester
Warning: None
Word Count: 1,098
Summary: Back in Heaven, Castiel asks a friend about the death of the angel and learns that the fledgling is in more danger than he thought.
Part One - Part Two - Part Three
Story
Nowhere does a rumor spread faster than in Heaven. Castiel has barely been gone for two days, but when he returns, the cause of death of the angel has been subjected to various opinions. He first approaches his sister Harut who is trustworthy enough and knowledgeable. She’s one of the few beings he would trust with a light secret, and he has confided in her some of those thoughts that would be frowned upon in most circles. When he inquires about the recent death, Harut is incredulous.
“You didn’t feel it?” she asks.
“No, I felt it, but I know nothing of the circumstances. There are whispers it was . . .” Cass hesitates as the next word has a bitter taste. “Suicide.”
“It couldn’t have been anything else if you ask me.”
“Why not?”
“They found her in the middle of a demon hideout. Chances are she walked in deliberately. She was supposed to wait for backup, and now the demons are in the wind. If it wasn’t suicide, then she was crazy, stupid, or both.”
“She?”
“You need to be more involved, Castiel. It was Haniel.”
Castiel’s entire body locks up and seems to burst into flame. His heart pounds, veins throb in his skull, and he can feel the blood drain from his face. It can’t have been Haniel. He spoke to her not a week ago.
“You okay?” Harut’s worried voice brings him out of his head.
“Haniel . . .”
“Were you especially close?”
“Why would Haniel commit suicide?”
“No one knows if that’s what happened.”
“What do they think?”
Harut sighs. “There are a few theories. One is that she was coerced into doing it or threatened somehow. That’s the most popular and believable explanation. Kerubiel, though . . . Remember Kerubiel?”
“Yes.”
After the fall a few years back, there had been unimaginable chaos. God was AWOL and doubted to return, and Michael and every other official secondary authority was dead or inaccessible. Order somehow built itself up out of the mess, manifesting in the form of bands of angels headed by bold and confident individuals. Violent altercations were common within and between these bands, even those who preached peace as the only solution. Heaven eventually reopened, and when it did, most of those bands broke apart. Those that tried to hold on to this system were shunned until they conformed, and they all did in the end. Kerubiel’s group was the exception.
Of all the bands, Kerubial and his followers were the most radical. Their views regressed by hundreds of thousands of years, and they adopted the celestial rules from when angels were the only creatures inhabiting the universe. After Heaven’s reopening, they’d been reduced to only four members – Kerubiel, Mebehiah, Nithael, and Nuriel – but remained strong, declaring themselves the enforcers of the old, “true” rules. No one really knew what to do about them, but because all they could really do was make some noise when accusing someone of violating a rule, the other angels silently and unanimously simply decided to stay out of their way.
“He was up on his soapbox again yesterday,” Harut continues. “It was funny in an embarrassing way. He thinks there’s a fledgling.”
“A fledgling?”
“If you buy into his claim, Haniel had a fledgling and killed herself out of shame. It was, and I quote, “the only correct action she could take”. He and his followers have sworn to resolve the matter.”
“What do they mean by that?”
“I assume they intend to hunt down the fledgling and the father and punish them. I suggest we all walk the other way until they cool down.”
“They’re insane. Neither one deserves death. The fledgling had no say in its creation.”
“You don’t actually believe this, do you?”
Castiel shakes his head, shakes off his incensed anger so that he might lie better. “It’s just that the law against intercourse is so old. It should be rewritten along with many of the other ancient laws.”
“Have you met Kerubiel? Those are the laws he worships. Take my advice: keep your mouth shut unless you want to attract his attention. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”
* * * * *
Hardly two weeks have gone by since Castiel convinced the Winchesters to take in the fledgling. He left them with the knowledge that she’d be killed if her existence were found out, but that was mostly a scare tactic. If he’s being honest, Cass doesn’t quite know what would happen, but he could hazard a guess. The majority of his brothers and sisters have abandoned many of the old laws, and some would be open-minded and accepting of a fledgling, but they’re all prone to support the loud one, by not intervening if not by rallying behind them. Kerubiel would kill her for sure, but any of them who believe that the creation of a fledgling is too out of line is no safer.
While she gazes up at him from her crib with her big blue eyes and sputters a contented spit bubble, Castiel feels sorry for her. She is no less deserving of life and love than any human child. He’s returned one more time this night, heart hurting still from the loss of his sister, to check on the baby. He needed to see for himself that the three-month-old is safe and that the Winchesters’ minds are still intact. Sprawled across their respective beds, they appear to be fine and enjoying a few hours of sleep while their charge doesn’t want for anything.
“If I leave for a while, will you behave?” Castiel asks the fledgling. “I must distance myself from you for your protection, but you’ll be alright. Sam and Dean will keep you safe. They’ll let no harm come to you, little one.”
The baby coos and smiles a toothless smile, rosy cheeks matching the pale pink onesie Dean has buttoned her into. With every breath she takes, she exudes the life force of an angel. Grace burns behind her eyes and courses through her tiny, delicate veins, and Cass can feel it in the hand he cups to her cheek. She’s the purest thing he’s ever seen – absolutely beautiful. The only thing more precious than a human soul is a life such as this one.
Reluctantly, the angel takes his hand back. In the corner of the room he lingers, watching over the others until the fledgling succumbs to sleep, and then he’s gone, vanished as a quick as a breeze, and no one knows he was ever here.
