Just some plain old Sylus whump for today's @whumptober prompt. Hope you all enjoy.
Prompts Used: Intubation, ICU, Choking
Fandom: Love and Deepspace
Character: Sylus
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A routine hunt in the N109 Zone leaves Sylus hospitalized, leaving Ariadne to realize he isn’t entirely invincible.
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Stranglehold
I raised my gun, shooting off a volley at the roaring Wanderer, nearly losing my footing as the thing smashed a giant fist into the ground.
“My bullets don’t seem to be doing anything!” I shouted at Sylus.
“It has a modified Protocore,” he said cracking his knuckles with a grim look. “They’re not so easily stopped. Look out!”
He snatched me to one side with his Evol as a lump of concrete crashed against the side the building I’d been standing in front of.
“Let’s lead it to a more open area,” Sylus suggested, urging me forward as we ran down the street.
I’d been visiting the N109 Zone when news of a modified Wanderer rampaging through the city had reached us. I’d insisted on going with Sylus to see to it, but as soon as I realized my normal weapons wouldn’t do much good, I began to feel frustrated. Even Sylus was having difficulty with it.
“I called Luke and Kieran to bring better weapons, but this thing has already caused enough damage,” Sylus growled. We could hear it smashing things behind us. At least we had managed to lead it away from the more populated areas.
We ended up in a shipping yard that seemed to be mostly abandoned. I glanced around, looking for the best place to make a stand.
There was a caw overhead, and I glanced up to see Mephisto.
“Come on,” Sylus called to me.
We skirted the Wanderer’s reach and ran toward the Twins who were already unloading several long boxes from the back of the car.
“We got what you asked for, Boss!” Kieran called.
“Good,” Sylus said, throwing one of the boxes on the hood of the car and flipping it open, expertly assembling the rifle inside. “You two watch the perimeter and make sure this thing doesn’t escape.”
Luke and Kieran saluted and grabbed their own weapons, running off.
To my surprise, Sylus tossed the gun to me. “Take this and find yourself a good vantage point. I’ll go distract it.”
“Tell me you’re not going to try to fight this thing with your fists,” I demanded, staring at him incredulously.
Sylus only grinned. “Aim well, sweetie.”
I stared at him as he teleported away with a burst of black and red smoke. Swearing silently to myself, I ran over to a place where I could see the Wanderer, placing the gun across some crates and crouching to look through the sight.
Sylus flicked in behind the thing, using his Evol to corral the Wanderer. It roared in fury and I gritted my teeth. I didn’t have a good aim on the glowing Protocore in its chest and I knew that was the easiest way to stop it in one go and keep it from going into a rampage.
Sylus wrapped his Evol around it, pulling the Wanderer in the right direction, but it did not seem to be happy about it. It swiped at Sylus, causing him to dodge out of the way in a roll, coming back up to throw a blast at it.
The Protocore in the thing’s chest was in sight and I aimed, finger on the trigger, the butt of the rifle braced against my shoulder.
That was when it moved, lashing out quicker than I thought it capable. It went directly for Sylus’s throat, giant hand clenching around Sylus’s neck as it slammed him into the ground.
“Sylus!” I shouted, hearing the strangled sound from him, stomach flipping as he hit the ground with bone-shattering force.
The Wanderer then picked him back up, holding him aloft as it throttled him. Sylus’s hands were around the thing’s wrist, his Evol digging into it, before it squeezed even harder and his hands slid to his sides, limp.
I took my shot. The modified bullet hit the Protocore dead center, and it shattered, instantly shutting down and exploding into mist.
Sylus dropped to the ground in a crumpled heap, still.
“Sylus!” I screamed as I pushed my legs into action, rushing over to him.
I dropped to my knees, rolling him onto his back, cupping his cheek.
Sylus’s face was pale, his lips tinted blue, specked with flecks of crimson. But what was worse were the red and purple marks around his throat in the shape of the Wanderer’s hand.
“Oh god, Sylus, can you hear me?” I pleaded, cradling his head in my lap.
His chest hitched, breath whistling. His hand came up, shakily wandering until it latched onto my jacket.
Luke and Kieran ran over with Mephisto circling above.
“What happened?” Luke demanded, both of them looked shocked and terrified.
“We need to get him to a hospital now; are they any reputable ones in the N109 Zone? He’s barely breathing!”
Fifteen minutes later we screeched to a stop outside the emergency room entrance of the nearest hospital. I hoped it would be safe enough, but frankly we didn’t have a choice right now. I couldn’t even tell if Sylus was breathing. As long as we could get him stable, I could ask for him to be transferred to Akso but until then, we had to make do.
Luckily Luke and Kieran were intimidating enough for the staff to jump to it, loading Sylus onto a gurney and wheeling him away.
“I’m going with him,” I told the twins.
They nodded, looking lost as I left them in the waiting room and hurried back.
When the nurses tried to stop me, I folded my arms and prominently displayed the gun on my hip. “I’m staying.”
They didn’t argue. I knew enough about the N109 at this point to know intimidation and steel were the only way to get respect.
My steel admittedly faltered as I watched them work on Sylus though. I’d never seen him this vulnerable before. It made a sick pit in my stomach.
When they finally finished, they moved him to a bed in the ICU area, elevated at the head to ease his breathing. I instantly pulled a seat over to sit with him. His breathing was too mechanical, thanks to the tube shoved down his throat that was currently breathing for him—until the swelling went down and he regained consciousness, the doctor told me.
The twins came back to see him, bringing me some food and coffee, and saying that they would go back to the base and make sure things were handled while Sylus was laid up. They left Mephisto with me to fetch things if needed and the mechanical crow cooed forlornly as he looked at Sylus, settling on the bed at his hip.
I petted Mephisto then held Sylus’s hand, rubbing my thumb over his bruised knuckles. The bruising around his throat only looked worse now and it made my own throat ache.
I had to admit to myself that I was still in a state of shock. I wasn’t used to injuries sticking to Sylus. But considering his usual reluctance to let anything near his throat, I knew it must be a genuinely vulnerable area to him—perhaps the only one.
I eventually dozed off during my vigil, still holding his hand. I didn’t wake up until I felt him jerk beside me right before he started choking.
I jumped up, Mephisto cawing in warning as the alarms on all the machines blared.
Sylus’s eyes fluttered, darting from side to side in panic as the doctors rushed into the room.
I stepped aside to let them help him, but as the doctor approached, Sylus’s Evol wrapped around the man’s throat, choking him.
“Sylus!” I cried, quickly stepping in and grabbing his hand. “It’s okay, he’ll help you. Let him go.”
Sylus’s Evol dissipated and the doctor coughed, staggering back, before I grabbed his arm.
“Help him!” I snapped, dragging him back toward the bed.
The doctor shook slightly but he obeyed. I soothed Sylus, rubbing his arm as the doctor slowly drew the tube out of his throat. Sylus’s chest hitched and his breath wheezed but he was able to breathe on his own.
“Thank you,” I told the doctor.
The doctor nodded, then mumbled something about being back in a minute before retreating, rubbing his throat.
Sylus’s hand tugged on mine and he opened his mouth, only to wince and squeeze my hand tighter.
“Don’t try to talk,” I said quickly, sitting on the side of the bed. “Don’t strain your throat right now.”
He swallowed hard, the action obviously painful and pushed my hand to the bed before tapping a finger on my palm.
“Morse code?” I asked.
Sylus nodded and began tapping out a message.
Where?
“A hospital in the N109 Zone,” I told him. “Not my first choice, but we had to get you help.”
His eyes narrowed. Get me out, he tapped.
“Sylus, I’m not taking you out of here until I know you’re okay,” I said firmly.
He tried to sit up, but I pushed him back. “Please, Sylus. At least let the doctor look at you and give you your prescriptions.”
Sylus glowered, but I glowered back and he rolled his eyes. He set his finger in my hand again. Call him. But tell him if he tries anything I’ll choke him.
“I think he knows that,” I muttered, but got up to go fetch the doctor.
The man came back in reluctantly.
“I need to know if he’s good to leave,” I said.
“It’s not advisable,” the doctor said blandly. “But as long as he’s in no immediate danger, I can give you care instructions.”
He seemed eager enough to be rid of Sylus but I was going to make sure he did his job. “Just do what you would normally do.”
The doctor reluctantly went to gather what he would need, then returned, snapping on gloves as he prepared an endoscopy.
“Open your mouth,” he said.
Sylus glowered, but I took his hand, squeezing gently. “Just do as he says and we can leave sooner.”
Sylus pinned the doctor with his crimson gaze before doing as he asked.
I could feel Sylus’s discomfort in how tight he clutched my hand and, I rubbed his knuckles soothingly. The doctor studied the feed from the camera and finished in record time.
“There’s still quite a bit of swelling, but his airway seems to be clear,” The doctor said. “I’ll prescribe some anti-inflammatory medicine as well as an antibiotic. Just give me a second and I’ll bring them to you.”
As soon as he left, I reached out to stroke Sylus’s hair. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
His eyes softened slightly and he reached up to take my wrist, pulling my hand to his lips.
A nurse came in within a few minutes, handing me a prescription bag and a sheet.
“Care instructions and dosage,” she told me, eyeing Sylus warily.
I nodded, and helped Sylus remove the monitors stuck to him. The machines blared and the nurse hurried to turn them off as I helped Sylus out of the bed and let him lean on me.
Mephisto had gone to Luke and Kieran so by the time we got to the front, they already had the car waiting.
“Glad to see you back on your feet, Boss,” the twins said sincerely.
Sylus slumped in the back beside me, tilting his head back at a better angle to breathe.
He was surprisingly docile once we got back to the base. I helped him into his pajamas and tucked him into bed, making sure to prop him up with copious amounts of pillows to ease his breathing as I read the instructions.
“Let me get you some warm water so you can take your medicine.”
Sylus rolled his eyes and I realized quickly that just because he couldn’t talk didn’t mean he was any less annoyed at the situation.
When I came back with the water, he took the pills and swallowed them painfully, with obvious difficulty. His hand came up to touch his throat, brow furrowing.
“It looks pretty bad,” I told him, sitting on the bed next to him.
Sylus took my hand and tapped I’ll heal soon into my palm.
I looked down at the covers I’d placed over his lap, a churching still in my stomach as I remembered seeing Sylus lying there, barely breathing.
Sylus squeezed my fingers tightly. What’s wrong?
“It just scared me,” I admitted, shaking my head. “Seeing you hurt like that.”
Sylus smiled slightly. Not invincible, sweetie.
“I know,” I muttered. “It’s just a rare occurrence.”
He took my chin and tilted my face toward him. He didn’t need to use morse code this time for me to know what he wanted. I leaned in to kiss him, cuddling up against his side.
“Just please be more careful. And maybe don’t use yourself as bait next time.”
Sylus wheezed a soft huff and took my hand again. For you, I will be more careful. But if I am unable to I know that I have you to nurse me back to health.
“I promise to always be there.”
I settled down, hand and cheek pressed to his chest, monitoring his breathing myself. I knew I couldn’t protect him always, but I would always settle for putting him back together in the end.
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Tag list: @musicalcellojelly @scullysfraser @packer-chu @kestrelwings-blog @lumi-s-garlic @melpomenelamusa @delulu44uu (if anyone wants to be added or taken off the tag list, see link at top of post)
Day 1
Cruel / Beauty
@daily-writing-challenge
Story Theme Song
The Thundering Cloud Serpent stretched across Vaelsnipe’s chest shoulder to shoulder and collarbones in a storm-born arc of ink. Its coils broke through thunderclouds that curled into the designs of both his tattooed sleeves, weaving past runes and beast-shaped memories. But this serpent wasn’t just a symbol to the hunter. It was the mark of a reckoning, a moment of transformation burned into flesh.
It had happened in Pandaria, deep in the jade-slick wilds where mist hung low and the air pulsed with ancient power. The contract was simple on paper: eliminate a void-twisted pterrordax nesting near a forgotten temple on the side of the mountain. Dangerous, but nothing Vael hadn’t done before. He wasn’t alone either, he had taken the job alongside a mercenary band he’d ridden and bled with more than once. He’d trusted them in the cautious, measured way he allowed anyone in. Enough to share campfires, to sleep without his back to a wall and to watch his six.
But when they reached the cliffs near the nest, something shifted. The silence between them sharpened and too few eyes scanned the brush. Too many had stayed on him. He didn’t sense the betrayal until the knife was already in his side. Spell-tipped and poisoned. It was supposed to be fast, clean and efficient.
They didn’t shout and there were no curses nor demands. Just cold calculation, the quiet trade of a man’s life for coin without looking back. He staggered back, breath caught in his throat and ribs flaring with agony as the toxin surged through his veins. Their faces blurred in the rising mist, the last thing he saw before his knees hit the moss-heavy earth. They faces were not of hatred nor guil, just a cold hard indifference that hurt more than the blade that had left its mark.
And then came the shriek echoing through the craigs. The pterrordax had awoken.
Vaelsnipe crawled, dragging himself toward cover, toward elevation and anything that wasn’t the blood-wet soil. His mind throbbed between pulses of poison and betrayal. Every breath tasted like ash. But he didn’t die there. He wouldn’t.
He patched the wound with fire-scorched leather, crushed bitter herbs between his teeth to slow the venom. He built traps with trembling fingers and loaded his rifle with specialty rounds while the skies darkened above. Thunder rolled in the distance like a warning but he was past warnings now.
The pterrordax hunted him through jungle and crag for hours. Each swoop of its shadow was a new trial. Vael struck when it got close bleeding, half-delirious, rage his only clarity. It wasn’t just survival anymore. It was something personal. The creature had become the avatar of every betrayal he’d ever suffered. And when it dove through the rain, when its talons snapped against the stone he clung to, he didn’t retreat. He roared back.
Lightning cracked the sky. In its flash, his silhouette stood alone on the cliff’s edge ragged, bloodied, but unbroken. The beast in the clouds had met its kin in flesh. When the beast finally fell, tumbling into the valley below in a twisted ruin of void-ridden wings and shattered bone, Vael remained standing. Just barely.
A reclusive pandaren healer found Vaelsnipe collapsed near a temple ruin, the pterrordax’s black blood still staining his clothes. They treated the poison and mended his wounds. But even then as the fever broke, the old Vaelsnipe didn’t return.
When he healed enough to walk, he didn’t go home and didn’t send word. He didn’t have a home or anyone to even send word too as Tycil was gone so he vanished into shadow, ghosting through forests and outposts, gathering rumors like blood scent on the wind. The mercenaries had scattered as cowards often did. But none of them were beyond his reach.
He hunted them the way they had once hunted beasts: patient, silent, relentless. One he found in a gambling den, still wearing the ring Vael had once helped him win in a duel. Another was gutting fish in a coastal village, pretending to live a small life. One hid behind mercenary contracts of his own, clinging to a new crew who never knew what kind of man he’d once sold. Vaelsnipe ended them all quickly and precisely.
He didn’t taunt them, nor give them the chance to explain themselves. Each kill was clean, but never cold. There was feeling in it like an artistry honed not from hatred, but from understanding. There was a cruel beauty in how he moved through it: like lightning itself, striking once, never twice. His blade was the silence before the thunder. His rifle, the storm’s roar with no prayers and no mercy. Just the weight of a promise fulfilled.
This wasn’t justice nor revenge.
Just the quiet and precise finality of retribution, Reclamation.
He wasn’t taking their lives so much as reclaiming the pieces of his own they had stolen. And as he walked away from each corpse, he felt no lighter, only more defined.
There was no lesson in the kills, no justice, grand lesson nor peace. From that day forward, he stopped looking for people to stand beside him. Instead, he learned to be the storm. To carve his own thunder across the sky as he was alone. To be the serpent rising and the storm he would never again outrun because now, it answered to him.
Warnings: Hunt gone wrong, mentions of Violence, Talk of death, strong language.
Summary: You go solo on a seemingly easy Vampire hunt though you are quick to realise its not as easy as you first thought.
Word Count: 1.3K
Masterlist:
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You knew you should have asked for help on this hunt, but of course you were too stubborn for your own good. Currently you were on what you thought would be an easy Vampire hunt, but quickly turned sour once you realised this wasn't just 1 or 2 vampires it was a whole nest with close to 15 vampires. Wayyy more than you could handle on your own. Sam had checked in with you 5 minutes before you set out to where you had tracked them down and you assured him that you could handle yourself, how wrong you were.
Sam loved and trusted you so you knew that you wouldn't receive any ‘do you need any help’ texts as he knew just how capable you were, but this was when you told him it was just 1 or 2 Vampires.
You were currently huddled in the back corners of the house that the nest was occupying. You entered through the back door of the house taking the extra precaution to make sure that you weren't heard which definitely paid off when you witnessed 6 vampires stroll past you into another room. That was when you realised just how bad you fucked up as you had to quickly duck through the open basement door to which the vampires you had just avoided blocked the way you came in.
You had two options at this point; option one which was to be stubborn and continue with the hunt which would most likely end up with you dead, which wasn’t a very enticing option, so option two it is; swallow your pride and call Sam.
You pulled your phone out and silently prayed that he would answer quickly as you could hear more and more footsteps getting way too close to your location for your comfort.
One ring, two ring, three rings, you prayed and prayed that you wouldn't be stuck in this situation any longer, the feeling of dread that you would be stuck for the whole nest of Vampires to find made your blood run cold. Luckily for you Sam picked up.
“Hey sweetheart, how is the hunt going?” Sam asked flipping through lore research, “umm Sam, i need your help, i fucked up” the fear in your voice not escaping his eared making alarm bells go off in his head. You never call for help, let alone sounding as scared as you did. “Ok me and Dean are on the way don’t worry, what’s going on?” you could hear the roar of the impala in the background along with the worried sound of Dean also asking what was going on. “The nest turned out to be wayyy bigger than I thought Sam, there are close to 15 Vampires here, I'm hiding in the basement, I don't know if i'll make it out of this one Sam” You have never been so scared on a hunt, let alone admitting that it might be your last one. “Don't say that love, were on our way, were so close” just as he said that you heard movement outside the basement door and not just from 1 person.
As you heard the footsteps get closer you decided the best thing to do was huddle behind the stairs and hope to god that none of them spotted you. You turned your phone sound off all the way. Unknown to you Sam and dean were painstakingly begging you to answer them until they realised you couldn't talk so they remained silent listening and making sure they didn't hear any distress on your end.
You swore you could hear your own heartbeat beating out of your chest at how anxious you were in this moment. You watched painfully as multiple sets of feet came slowly stalking down the stairs and filling the basement. Your hope of not getting spotted was quickly dwindling as multiple vampires filled the basement. “Who do we have down here” One loud voice boomed down the stairs, just that sentence alone filled you with dread. They knew you were here.
“Looks like a hunter picked the wrong nest to hunt” I heard from my right, just before I was roughly grabbed and shoved up the stairs, my arms being twisted painfully behind my back eliciting a scream which was enough to let both Sam and Dean know you had been found.
Both Sam and Dean heard your scream just as they had pulled up to the Vampire infested house. You had never been captured before so Sam in this moment was filled up with as much fear as one man could have. He feared that you would be lying dead inside the house and that your last moments would have been filled with terror and fear, something he had feared would happen after he experienced Jessica die.
Sam and Dead had raced up the steps to the house machetes in hand ready to kill whatever they had to in order to get you back, what they weren't prepared for however was to come face to face with 7 or so Vampires and for you to be weakly on your knees holding your definitely broken arm with multiple bite marks littering your neck from where the Vampires fed on you. You were weak and deadly pale, but alive. There were close to 15 Vampires here in the beginning but through the discovery of Sam Winchester's girlfriend being in the house many fled knowing that Sam and Dean weren't far behind.
You weakly kneeled there waiting for the next Vampire to take their turn feeding from you when you heard the front door burst open, splintering and sending wood all over the floor in front of you. “Let her go!!” You knew that voice, it was the voice you love and the voice you were praying you would hear this whole hunt. “And what if we don't?” the Vampire holding you on your knees stated “you don’t have a choice, you're all gonna lose your heads anyway” you heard Dean say while admiring the freshly sharpened machete in his hand. Not long after Dean stated that both he and Sam started swinging. You were too weak to hold your head up at this point and with the fighting the Vampire holding you let your body drop to the floor in order to avoid the blade of Dean’s machete.
While you weakly lied there you held your arm close to your body and tried to keep your eyes open. Though you were weak you managed to lift your head up to see the last vampire's head roll making the last of your fear vanish. Moments later you felt someone lift your body up into their lap and hold your face in their hands. In that second you realised just how cold you had become turning your body more into theirs in order to relish in their body heat.
“Baby?” “please open your eyes love, please” you knew that voice, of course you did, it was the man you loved. You painstakingly opened your eyes with as much energy as you could muster in that moment looking straight into Sam’s eyes letting him know that you were still alive and here with them. They hadn't lost you.
“Thank you for saving me Sammy” you whispered thankful to know that you were now safe, hurt, but alive. “You don’t have to thank me love, let's go home, what do you say?” Sam had never felt such relief in his life.
Sam then continued to pick you up and carry you out to the Impala where Dean was waiting to drive everyone back to the bunker. “Thank you too Dean” you announced once you were gently laid down in the back with your head in Sam’s lap “no problem darling, glad you're ok. Couldn't bear it if you left me to deal with Sam alone” he joked, eliciting a laugh from you and an eye roll from sam. You snuggled into Sam on the way back thankful to have such great people you can trust.
AN: Hey guys! I know that I disappeared for a bit, but I promise that I'm still alive and kicking!
I've just been really consumed by the SoapGhost fics that I've been writing/planning for ao3 and that made it hard for me to find time to write for Tumblr in between irl things when all of my free time seemed to be dedicated to COD. But I finally decided to just sit down and work on one of my numerous WIP's which led to me cranking this bad boy out! Hope you like it!
Word Count: 2,118
You moved your hands out of your jacket pocket, revealing your well-loved wallet that you’d had for years, and pulled the card with your current alias printed onto it out of its assigned slot in a practiced motion.
You tapped the chip against the screen of the card reader in order to pay for the obscenely greasy food that you’d ordered for yourself and Dean –who you had left fast asleep in your shared motel room– watching with a keen eye as the payment processed and then was accepted with a little innocuous green check mark, the receipt printing with a soft whir.
You startled a little as a phone suddenly began to ring, the tune echoing loudly in the store, and it took you an embarrassing amount of time to realize that it was actually your cell that was going off, your free hand –which wasn’t currently juggling both your card and wallet– darted down to the back pocket of your jeans in order to collect the device with a sheepish smile.
You swiped your thumb across the screen and answered the phone without looking at the caller ID, quickly wedging the device between your ear and shoulder in order to take the receipt that the bored looking cashier was impatiently holding out toward you with your newly freed hand.
“Hey, where the hell did you run off to?” Dean was already talking before you could even manage to get a greeting out, his voice rough in a way that it only was immediately after waking up, which told you that he most likely called after rousing from sleep and noticing that you were no longer in the motel with him.
“Just figured that I’d treat your lazy ass to some breakfast since you didn’t look like you were getting up anytime soon.” You said as you took the long strip of paper from the cashier with a small nod of thanks before stepping off to the side in order to make way for the next customer to step forward and be assisted, folding up the receipt and carelessly cramming it into your wallet before shoving it back into your jeans.
You had wanted to let Dean sleep in for once since it was technically your fault that you were both up so late last night, the two of you having been all wound up after running around all day asking anyone and everyone about the suspicious deaths that had been happening around town only to come up with fuck all, so you and Dean had decided to dispel all that pent up energy and frustration by testing Dean’s so-called ‘endless stamina’ that he constantly bragged about.
Needless to say, you had put him through the wringer and managed to come out the other side a little less worse for wear than Dean had.
You settled in with your phone now comfortably resting against the side of your head as you waited for your order to be called, and you bit your lip in an attempt to repress the love-sick smile that wanted to overtake your neutral expression when you heard the telltale shift of blankets over the line.
You could see Dean carelessly sprawl his limbs out across the bed in your mind's eye, your fingers twitching with the urge to brush your fingers through his –no doubt– adorable bedhead, the impulse always bubbling up without fail when you saw his hair sticking up at all sorts of odd angles.
“Rough night?” You asked, your voice practically dripping with faux-concern as you idly watched the people milling about the pop fountain, and Dean let loose a distinctly unattractive snort that had a smug grin spreading across your lips, your salacious smile earning you a dirty look from a woman who had just finished filling a large cup with cola that you unfortunately just so happened to make eye contact with.
“You’d know.” Dean groused, the sound of him moving about restlessly nearly drowning out his petulant response as he heaved himself upright with a groan that had him sounding like he was an old man rather than a spry twenty-six year old, and you winced in sympathy.
As hunters, your line of work was unforgiving and you yourself were subject to the various aches and pains that came from such a physically demanding job on more than one occasion.
“You order yet?” Dean asked suddenly and you blinked rapidly, his voice abruptly pulling you from the aimless staring that you’d been unknowingly doing as you recalled how stiff and sore you were when you woke up this morning. Though, if you were being honest with yourself, that was definitely a byproduct of last night's rigorous activities rather than having to fight for your life against some bloodthirsty creature or another for once, which was admittedly a nice change of pace.
“Yup. Got you a bacon breakfast burrito, hash browns, and a slice of cherry pie.” You replied with a wide grin, a bark of laughter erupting from your chest and startling the few people standing near you when Dean let out a truly sinful moan of appreciation.
“I love you so fucking much.” Dean declared, the mattress springs creaking as he pushed to his feet and walked across the small room before clicking on a lightswitch, his voice taking on a distinct echo as he entered the borderline claustrophobic motel bathroom.
“I know.” You said smugly before suddenly remembering the woman that you had run into on your way to the restaurant, causing you to be out longer than you’d originally intended, which was the whole reason why you were back with breakfast before Dean woke up.
“Also, while I was out, I happened to run into a friend of the ex-wife of the last victim and I may have found a lead on this case.” You stated after briefly glancing around and taking a couple of steps back in order to make sure that no one would be overhearing your conversation.
The most that you’d been able to get out of the shell-shocked woman when you and Dean had went to interrogate her the previous day was that her ex-husband had broken into the house while she was home alone and, after saying some shit that made no sense at all whatsoever, had dropped dead right there in the dining room before she could even process what had happened.
And that wasn’t even the weirdest thing that had happened, the person before that had slumped over dead in a church confessional booth after saying about three words to the priest and the one before that had just randomly collapsed to the ground in the middle of a crosswalk after angrily yelling at a reckless driver that had almost ran her over.
“Alright, hit me.” Dean said, sounding much more awake now but, before you could say a word, one of the employees called out your order number over the general chatter of the restaurant. You snapped to attention, muttering a quick warning to Dean that the food was done and you were gonna go grab it, before moving forward and maneuvering your way through the small crowd that had accumulated between you and the front desk.
You took the grease-stained brown paper bag with a grateful smile and a polite nod before turning on your heel in order to make your way over to the exit. You shamelessly used your foot to bully the door open –since your hands were full– before stepping outside and squinting when the sun made your eyes ache, unused to the intense brightness after having spent so much time under the fluorescent lights that they had installed indoors.
“As I was saying, apparently there’s an old legend–” You began as you trotted over to the nearby sidewalk in order to begin the long walk back to the motel, only to be almost immediately interrupted by Dean.
“There always is.” Dean muttered to himself through a muffled yawn, but you expertly ignored him –a talent that had been born from being around the older Winchester for several years– and continued on as if he had never even uttered a word.
“–that a witch used to terrorize the area way back when this place used to be just a tiny trading town and, considering that there is definitely some kind of curse involved here, I figured that a witch –if not the very same witch from the story– is most likely our culprit rather than a cursed object, like we initially suspected.” You continued explaining your findings, lifting a hand to wave at the driver of a pick up that had slowed to a stop and motioned to the street in front of them, allowing you to quickly jog across the crosswalk.
“Fucking witches man.” Dean growled, the deep sound sending the wrong kind of signals to your brain and making your core heat up in anticipation as images of last night came to the forefront of your mind, an overwhelming sense of smug satisfaction blooming in your chest when you recalled the plethora of possessive marks that you’d shamelessly left all over his body.
The deafening blare of a car horn unceremoniously yanked you from your internal musings and you gave Dean a noncommital hum as your gaze scanned over the street in an effort to find the origin of the noise, pausing your search and freezing mid step when you noticed a man and a woman standing stock still on the other side of the busy road, both of them just staring at you as passersby gave them a wide berth.
“Hello? You still there?” You heard Dean’s voice as he called out over the phone, but your attention was firmly locked onto the pair on the opposite sidewalk who were very openly watching you with an intensity that made your gut churn, your eyes widening when you made the mistake of making eye contact with the woman and she shot you a mean grin.
“Uh, yeah. It’s just– There’s a man and a woman staring at me… and I have a feeling that they’re not coming over here for a friendly chat.” You relayed warily as the two finally moved, the woman taking the lead as they stepped off the curb and began making their way across the road toward you.
And, no sooner than the words had left your mouth, you heard the telltale sound of Dean grabbing his keys and jacket before the rhythmic thump of rapid footsteps and the heavy slam of a door signaled his rushed exit from the motel room, the relative silence of the room being replaced by the whistle of the wind and general bustle of the city as Dean climbed into the Impala.
“Don’t hang up and don’t move, I’m coming to you.” Dean snapped furiously –though you didn’t take his harsh tone to heart since you knew that he was just worried– and you winced when you heard the deafening squeal of tires on asphalt from Dean’s end of the line, the commotion promptly being followed by a flurry of irritated honking as he drove like a mad man.
“The not moving thing probably won’t be an option, but you can access my location from your own phone and use that to track my movements. I’ll keep the call connected if I can.” You said quickly before acting as if you dropped the call and stashing your cell into the right pocket of your jacket moments before the woman came to a halt about a foot away from you, her companion not too far behind.
“Hello. You’ll have to forgive my rudeness, it’s been awhile since I’ve come across a hunter. Especially one who is brave or stupid enough to travel with someone as infamous and recognizable as a Winchester.” The woman –who you assumed was in charge– greeted with faux-remorse, and you swallowed nervously as her red lips stretched into a wide smile that showed off too many teeth to be strictly friendly.
You scrambled for something to focus on as you began to panic at the realization that the mystery woman –who you strongly suspected was the very witch that you’d been looking for– not only knew who you were but also why you were there, your brain stupidly choosing to latch onto the fact that the pair were going to cause you to be delayed even longer, which meant that it was becoming more than likely that your food was going to be stone cold by the time you made it back to the motel.
If you managed to come out of the confrontation alive, that is.
I am stoked to finally post about this now that the creators have been revealed. This fic was my contribution to the @spnsummergen event in 2024.
It was writtin response to a prompt by @sakarrie-creates whose request was a writer's dream with the broadness of it, this was the prompt:
You can read it here on AO3: Welcome to Canada
Fic Summary:
Sam and Dean follow the lead of an old friend of Bobby's into the Canadian wilderness of Golden Ears Park where three hunters have been found ripped to shreds their throats bitten out, while possible bear attacks, the local park ranger and part-time hunter Roger Marsh doesn't think so. The brothers help him investigate an incident that quickly turns out to be very much their kind of problem.
Pairing: Sam & Dean
Please mind the tags despite gen rating of this fic it has an explicit warning for violence, below GIFs from the Baby episode are rather accurate for how the boys fare in this fic.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Supernatural (TV 2005)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: John Winchester/Sam Winchester
Characters: Sam Winchester, John Winchester
Additional Tags: Established John Winchester/Sam Winchester, Hunt Gone Wrong, John Driving The Hell Out Of The Impala, Dean's Gonna Be Pissed, Sam Winchester Has a Plan, John Winchester Not Being an Asshole, swear to god, There's A Serious Story In Here, Non-Explicit, Very fond memories
Summary:
Sam and John were out hunting werewolves, but they quickly found themselves outnumbered and fleeing for their lives. Caught up in a blizzard, Sam comes up with a plan on the fly to save the day. And reap the rewards.
A lot can happen in a day. A hunt leaves Dean broken, bleeding and clinging to life. In the days that follow, he finds his typical life of mundane monster-hunting turned on its head, as he is trailed by blue lights and radio static. To make matters worse he worries he might be becoming the very thing he's spent his life hunting.
Castiel is an angel with a mission. He needs to keep Dean alive, a task which is more difficult than he had anticipated. To rub salt in the wound, he might be falling from grace. Angels aren't meant to have human emotions but he is beginning to want things.
Prompt from my lovely beta, Chelsy: Cat Dean cockblocking Sam all the time. The bunker would probably be destroyed from the chase that would ensue after he had disrupted them for the 5th time that day alone - to which I added that Gabriel would be the one to get pissed, because Sam is a softy for cat Dean.
This ensued.
Read below or on AO3: Cat-block!
It's hard to say who has it worse when it comes to the cat curse; Dean for being stuck as a feline until they find a cure, or Gabriel for not being able to get laid. Every time he and Sam get remotely close to anything sexual, even just making out, there's cat Dean.
Every. Damn. Time.
He's like a sneaky cat-ninja cockblock.
Take now, for instance.
Gabriel brought Sam into their room in the bunker. It's late, and Sam was giving him that needy look he gets when he wants to be fucked. Knowing he was on the clock because of the fucking cat, Gabriel laid his boyfriend out and hurried to undress him.
Just as Gabriel was wrapping his lips around Sam's cock - like, literally the second he did - there was frantic scratching at the door, accompanied by very sharp, whiney meows.
So now Gabriel is laying in the bed in his boxers, glaring at cat Dean who is curled up on Sam's chest as they both sleep peacefully. It's bad enough the cat is cockblocking him 24/7, but now he's taking over Gabriel's bed too? This is war. Plain and simple.
Gabriel is determined to win.
----
When Gabriel wakes up in the morning, he finds their room to be cat free. He grins as he ducks under the covers intending to wake his boyfriend up with a blowjob. Gabriel is so fucking horny at this point, he doesn’t even care if Sam doesn’t return the favor. It’s been too long since he’s had Sam in his mouth. Hell, it’s been too long since he’s had Sam period.
Then - boop!
“What the-”
Boop!
“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” Gabriel growls, turning his head to find cat Dean beneath the blankets with them. He lifts an angry paw and boops! Gabriel on the shoulder again. The damn cat must have been sleeping under here all along.
“Go away!” Gabriel tries to shoo the cat with his hand, but Dean bites him. Bites him! “You little shit!”
Gabriel yanks the blankets off them to give the cat a proper glare. Just as Gabriel is about to grab Dean and toss him to the floor - gently, he’s not an asshole… well, he is, but not that kind of asshole - Sam is sitting up and smiling at the two of them. “Mornin’ guys!”
Cat Dean pounces on Sam, making him laugh when all Gabriel wants to do is scream.
“Good morning, Dean,” Sam says in a stupid baby voice, cooing as he scratches between the cat’s little orange ears. “How are you this morning? How’s my handsome kitty?”
“He’ll kill you when he’s a human again for talking to him like that.”
Sam rolls his eyes. “He won’t remember. The little guy is oblivious.”
“Oblivious my ass,” Gabriel mumbles under his breath, knowing for a fact this little cockblock is fully aware of his situation, taking full advantage to make Gabriel’s life hell.
“What was that, babe?”
“Said I was just bein’ a sass. Sorry.”
“That’s okay. We still love you.” Sam squishes Dean’s face against his cheek, nuzzling him. With a side-eye to Gabe that’s clearly taunting, Dean licks Sam’s face and purrs. “We still love him, hey buddy? Yeah. We love our Gabriel.”
Gabriel grits his teeth and shoots the fucking cat a final glare before rolling out of bed and declaring he’s going to cook some breakfast. What he’d really like to do is cook the damn cat, but since that’s still his future brother-in-law - and he’s already decided he’s not the kind of asshole to hurt cute little furry animals - Gabriel just makes pancakes.
He pours every ounce of hate into those pancakes.
Unfortunately, Dean seems to still enjoy the pieces Sam shares with him.
----
Gabriel survives four more cockblocks that day before finally snapping. And when he says snapping, he means snapping. Sam is lucky the bunker is warded against angels, making his powers substantially weaker, or that fur covered little shit would have gotten himself smited. That doesn’t mean Gabriel goes easy on the cat. He chases that thing around the entire bunker, knocking over chairs and flipping tables, crashing through doors, and throwing whatever he can get his hands on in the direction of the feline version of his pain in the ass brother-in-law. Lamps shatter on the floor. Books fall off of shelves. A milkshake splashes against a wall. Sam gets trampled.
By the time the chase is over, the bunker is destroyed, and Dean has climbed onto the very top of the tallest bookcase. He’s scrunched up against the wall, hair standing straight up, as he repeatedly hisses at Gabriel.
Panting, Gabriel stabs a finger toward the cat and shoots daggers at his boyfriend. “If he’s still a cat by morning, I’m going to kill him. Do you understand? Kill. Him.”
“Okay, okay, calm down!” Sam puts his hands up and gives his boyfriend a careful look. “Just calm down!”
“I am calm!” Gabriel yells. The cat hisses, and Gabriel immediately snaps his head to the side. “You shut up!”
“Gabe, he can’t understand you.”
“Ooo - ho - ho, yes he can. Yes he can, Samuel. Don’t take his side.”
“Gabe-”
“Tomorrow! I’m serious.” Gabriel grabs his phone and keys from the counter and heads toward the door. “Tomorrow!”
----
Sam drives seven hours to where Rowena is currently staying since she refused to come his way because she - in her words - has a pretty lad in her bed she’s not quite finished with. Thankfully, when Sam arrives, Rowena is dressed, and the door to what he’s assuming is her bedroom is closed. A spellbook is laid out on her table as well as a silver bowl and a few jars full of strange-looking ingredients.
It takes three minutes, the whole thing surprisingly anti-climatic if Sam is being honest. One second Dean is a cat, the next he’s human. Giving Sam a shit-eating grin that makes Sam groan.
