seen from Bulgaria
seen from United States
seen from Maldives
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Yemen
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Mexico
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from China
seen from Hong Kong SAR China
seen from United States
OH GOSH ALSO I FORGOT TO SAY:
Are we not gonna talk about the casual watching Season 1 of Game of Thrones between Sam, Dean, and Charlie?? Like I haven't watched Game of Thrones, I know nothing about it, but it just. Feels like a new enough show that this episode feels like it really solidified the fact that I'm not in early Supernatural anymore. They're watching Game of Thrones.
LEFT A MARK - CHAPTER 9
PAIRING : dean winchester x original female character
STORY SUMMARY : in series masterlist
CHAPTER WARNINGS : age-gap. angst. angry dean. implied death. strong language.
A/N : obviously i changed a few things for the character insert so bear with me. hopefully y’all don’t hate it too much. thanks for reading 💜
Maricela’s POV
Dean had taken Kevin to a motel in Branson for a few days while Sam and I stayed at the bunker. After everything that’s happened these past few weeks, Dean and I decided to take a little break ourselves. Sam—of course—had questions that I didn’t know how to answer. Pretending that Dean never told me anything seemed to cease his inquiries—to me, at least. I knew he was waiting for his brother to get home to fill in the blanks. So, after attempting and failing to get more demon names from Crowley, I try and distract Sam.
“Saaammmm!” I whine as I walk toward the Winchester.
He sits on one of the chairs in front of the Map Table, documents from the Men of Letters scattered before him.
“Hmm?” He hums, eyes scanning over the records before scribbling on a notepad.
I wrap my arms around his neck from behind and nuzzle my face against his. “Take a break—watch a movie with me.”
He taps my forearm gently, replying, “I can’t. I have to find a way to help Cas.”
“Trust me, I want nothing more than Cas to be here, but we can’t help him if we burn ourselves out. Let’s just take a little break.” My arms falter from their position before straightening my posture. I lean against the table, finishing my persuasion. “It’ll still be here in a couple of hours—I’ll even let you pick the movie.”
He puts his pen down, then swivels his chair to face me entirely. His lips purse as he ponders my proposition. With my head tilted to the side, my brows slightly pinched, and pleading eyes peeking through my lashes, a tiny frown ties my puppy dog look together. Despite his dithering, I knew he couldn’t say no to me. With a heavy sigh, he throws his hands up in defeat.
Sam stands from his seat and mutters, “Fine.”
“Yay!” I cheer, already walking towards the kitchen. “I’ll grab the snacks while you get the movie ready.”
Heading straight towards the shelves, which held all nonperishable foods, I reach for the snacks only Sam and I would consume. I grab the Jiffy Pop popcorn and bring it to the stove. Just as I was about to ignite the burner, the door to the bunker slammed closed. The men’s voices carry into the kitchen. My heart flutters at the return of the eldest brother. Self-consciously, I tuck my curtain bangs behind my ears and straighten my clothing.
A light blush rushes to my cheeks, embarrassed about getting this flustered over a man. I wait a few moments, allowing the pinkness a chance to fade. Once the flush subsides, I focus on why I came into the kitchen in the first place. Deciding not to cook the kernels, I leave the gathered food on the island and walk toward the War Room. Dean stood with his arms crossed, listening to his younger brother.
They look underneath the table before Sam says, “You’re never gonna believe what we found.”
“You showing him the computer?” I ask and get a nod from the younger Winchester.
I follow behind the boys as Sam leads us to the new room we found earlier. He opens the door and flips the light switch, revealing a humongous machine in the middle of the room. It had at least a hundred buttons that lined the board.
“Voilà.”
“This is a computer?” asks Dean.
“Yeah—or it was in 1951 when it was installed.” We circle to the back of the machine as Sam raises his finger like Velma would often do when talking, continuing our discovery. “Now, here’s the crazy thing. It’s not plugged into anything. I mean, I have no idea what’s making this thing work.”
Dean runs his hand along the side of the metal, stopping to say, “It’s warm here.”
Sam puts his hand where his brother implies, feeling the heat for himself. Dean uses his fingers to open the panel to the computer’s back but lucks out. I inspect the shelves of miscellaneous items and find a flathead screwdriver, then hand it to Dean. He takes it and turns around, jamming the tool into the back of the computer. The metal creaks, refusing to open, but he jimmies harder. Suddenly, the panel clatters to the floor, and he stumbles into the wall and shelves behind him.
“Got it.” He clears his throat, trying to play it cool.
With the back now open, we squat to see inside. Sam retrieves a flashlight from his rear pocket to illuminate the machine. However, the guts weren’t like any computer I've seen. And judging from their responses, they haven't either.
“Huh.” Sam breathes.
‘Well, that looks simple. Does it come with a manual?”
“Nothing in the archives, and I obviously couldn’t find anything like it online, not to mention I’m pretty sure that the Men of Letters doesn’t exactly have I.T. support anymore, either.”
“I think I know somebody who could help us,” I mention, standing up to fetch my phone. “Come on.”
Wordlessly, the boys follow me out of room 28.
Charlie walks into the bunker along with Sam. He holds her duffle bag as they walk down the steps like the gentleman he is. Dean and I call our hello’s before getting out of our chairs. She waves and meets us at the bottom of the stairs.
“Thanks for coming,” Dean says, hugging her before me.
“Not a problem, especially since I got fired last week,” Charlie admits.
“Hey, what?” Sam questions after setting her bag on the Map Table. “What happened?”
“Turns out the company I work for was outsourcing to child labor, so I took a big WikiLeak all over that. And, yeah. It’s cool, though. It’s given me more time to focus on my hobbies...” Charlie trails off, watching Dean closely. My eyes go wide, knowing what she was going to reveal. I subtly shake my head, trying to prevent her from enduring the same judgment I went through. Ignoring me, she continues, “Like LARPing, Macrame, and hunting.”
“Excuse me?” Dean's voice lowers in a dad-like tone. His hands rest on his hips as he peers down at the red-head.
Her arms quickly rise in defense, trying to calm Dean’s growing anger. “Okay. It was just a couple little cases. I took down a teenage vampire and a ghost...which sounds like a Y.A. novel if you say it out loud.”
“Charlie, how’d it go?” Sam inquires.
“It was, uh...” She glances at Dean, his mouth hung agape in disbelief. Her gaze shifts to me, frowning momentarily before darting to Sam. “It was intense. I had a close friend helping in case anything went sideways. As you can see, I’m fine. But I kind of wish hunting was more...magical, you know?”
“Close friend—who?” Dean inquires urgently, ignoring her last sentence.
I shake my head, hoping my pleading eyes will make her keep my identity a secret. Charlie stares at me, hesitating to answer. Dean follows her eyes and sees my plea before I have a chance to mask it. Fuck. His eyes grew wider before narrowing in anger.
“You knew about this and didn’t tell us? Worse—you took her hunting?”
“I didn’t take her hunting; She wanted to go herself. So, I offered to assist.”
Dean’s eyes roll at my response. “You should’ve changed her mind!”
“I didn’t need to do shit. She’s a grown-ass woman, Dean! She can make decisions for herself. If she wants to hunt, that’s her prerogative.”
“She can get herself killed, and the last person who should be teaching her to hunt is you!”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I ask defensively.
“It means you can hardly keep yourself alive.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
“Is it? ‘Cause it’s getting real old having to constantly worry every hunt if that one will be your last. I have enough crap on my plate, and making sure you don’t get killed isn’t something I signed up for. God, it’s exhausting. You’re the last person I would ever want on my mind.”
Silence fills the room once his honesty leaves his sharp tongue. His words hit me like a punch to the gut, leaving me breathless. Was it as bad as it sounded, or was the pain I was feeling heightened by my love for him? His face didn’t seem to carry any remorse. Instead, he loomed over me, his annoyance palpable as he peered down with a towering stance.
“Sorry, I’ve been such an inconvenience for you. Maybe next time I'll die, so you don't have to worry anymore.” My words dripped with disgust as I desperately tried to mask the hurt I felt.
I don’t waste another moment in the War Room and in his presence. Ignoring Sam’s calls, I storm into the corridor. Anger replaces my pain the closer I get to my room. How dare he say those things. I’m a great hunter! I’ve been hunting for years; I knew what I was doing. I never took on something I couldn't handle by myself.
In a rage, I slam my door closed. I’m a damn good hunter! I assure myself. Every single one has been close to death, so why was I any different? He goes in guns blazing, too! He doesn’t have any regard for his life, and he’s made that known on many occasions.
Knowing that my thoughts would only aggregate me further, I grab my wireless headphones from my desk. With the light off, I stumble to my bed and get comfortable as I turn on the set playlist for times like this. I close my eyes, allowing myself to get lost in the music and not my fist in Dean’s face. As each song played, I felt my anger subside a little more. I can’t be sure how much time has passed, but the frustration rushes back once my headphones get yanked off.
“What the hell?” I yell at the figures towering over me.
“We’ve got a problem.”
Sam, Dean, and I scavenge the halls after they explain what was going on. Dorothy and the Wicked Witch are real, and just so happen to be in the bunker. We wander to the dungeon, instantly greeted with Crowley’s whistle rendition of ‘Somewhere Over The Rainbow.’ The men stroll closer to the King of Hell as I follow behind.
“Wow, if it isn’t the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, and Dorothy. Well—not the real one, anyway. As for your other new houseguest—so misunderstood.” The demon joked, yet no one but him found it amusing. “Either of you saw ‘Wicked?’”
“What did she say to you?” Sam demands.
“Something along the lines of...” Crowley trails off before hissing.
“All right, well, I’m gonna go get some holy oil and a lighter, dick bag.” Dean chimes in, turning to fetch the items, but stops once the demon starts speaking.
“I know what she’s looking for.”
“What does she want?” I ask.
“I’d be happy to tell you as soon as I get to stretch my legs.”
The younger Winchester nods toward the prisoner, agreeing. With annoyance, Dean moves to fill the King of Hell’s request. Sam and I aim our guns in case Crowley tries to pull anything. With one hand, Dean grabs the key out of his pocket to unlock the lock around the metal collar, while the other hand holds the demon blade to the demon’s throat as a warning. Dean backs away as the soulless monster happily pries the collar off, chains clattering when he drops it to the table.
“Oh.” He chuckles, standing from his seat.
“What does the witch want?” Sam questions.
“Give me a mo. I still need to air myself out.” Crowley pushes.
With my gun already raised, I shoot a round into the demon’s chest. He looks down at it, physically unfazed. “I think you’re aired out enough.”
“Rude.” He murmurs before picking up the crumbled-up paper from the table to reveal the word: key.
“Key? What key?” Sam presses.
“I haven’t the foggiest. Had to send her off on a merry chase before she could melt me.” The King of Hell flashes his pearly whites before revealing, “Told her you boys kept the keys in the kitchen. You do have a kitchen in this crap hole, don’t you?”
We look at one another before racing to the destination. Once in the kitchen, it was clear it had been ransacked. There wasn’t one surface that was left untouched. I groan, knowing I had to clean it later.
“Damn it, I just cleaned in here.” Dean sighs in disappointment.
“Really?” Sam rhetorically asks in sarcasm.
Walking down the steps, the Dick of the Day states the obvious, “Looks like we got a witch here.”
Someone walks into the other door to the kitchen, and we quickly draw our weapons only to see Charlie and the Dorothy.
“Sorry. We raided your gun range.” Charlie extended her arm for us to see what was in her hand. “Made us some poppy bullets. They won’t kill the witch, but they will stun the crap out of her.”
Dean picks up the casing, examining the bullets. “That’s my girl.” He murmurs, his eyes lingering on her before seeking a glance at me as his attention shifts to his handgun.
If it weren’t for the fight we had earlier, I would’ve been jealous that he’d never complimented me like that once before. Instead, the ‘jealousy’ turns into more anger. What was it that made him act differently towards me? I wonder.
“There was only enough for five bullets, so...make each shot count.”
We load the bullets into our magazines as Dorothy speaks, ‘Now we just have to find her before she finds whatever the hell she’s looking for.”
“She’s looking for a key.” I clarify.
“How do you know?” Charlie inquires.
“Little birdie told us,” Sam responds. “Ring any bells, Dorothy?”
“Unfortunately,” She replies with dismay. “It’s the key to Oz. There are magical ways into Oz—tornado, eye of a hurricane, whirlpool—but this key will turn any locked door into a portal to Oz. Insert key, twist, and presto, you're in Oz.”
“How did the Men of Letters get the key?” I question.
“I have no idea, but if she finds it, she’ll go back and finish what she started. She’ll destroy all that is good in Oz. She’s got armies of witches, flying monkeys. Many will die.”
“What’s this key look like?” Dean interjects.
Dorothy pulls out a journal from the inside of her jacket. We huddle around her as she quickly flips through the beige pages. Finally, she finds the one with information regarding the sought-after key. The top read ‘KEEP SAFE’ and was written with three exclamation marks. A sketch of the key took up half the page but was perfectly detailed to identify when searching for it.
“I’ve seen that key.” The oldest Winchester confesses. “Found it when I was doing inventory.”
“Where is it now?”
“My room. We got to get to that key. All right, Maricela, Charlie, and I will go look in my room.” He turns to Sam and finishes, “Why don’t you guys buy us some time?”
“I’ll go with Sam,” I speak dryly, not wanting to be around Dean any longer than I had to. His deep voice utters an ‘I don’t think so,’ to which I roll my eyes. “Oh, right. You don’t think I can handle myself, so I can’t leave your side.”
Without waiting for a comeback, I try storming to his room, but before I can leave the kitchen, his hand grabs my arm, pulling me back. I turn around and snatch my limb back, my eyes narrowing at his touch, daring him to do it again. Sam and Dorothy had left the room, leaving us three. Ignoring my glare, the Winchester’s gaze shifts between Charlie and me as he speaks.
“Safest place in this joint is the dungeon.”
“You have a dungeon in this place?” She inquiries, giving me déjà vu. “Of course you do.”
“So maybe you two should...” Dean trails off, implying we run from the danger.
Before I speak up, Charlie says, “We are not hiding, especially in a dungeon. Wicked witch, a key, a quest?” She playfully punches his shoulder—had it been me, it would’ve been rougher and somewhere else. With glee, she declares, “Let’s do this.”
She pivots and heads towards Dean’s room. I turn on my heel and ignore his calls as I walk with Charlie. After giving up, he assigns us corners of his room to scavenge. I rifled through his desk drawers and a box of files he handed me.
“You keep your porn meticulously organized, but not—” Charlie starts to criticize before Dean interrupts.
“Don’t judge me.” He rifles through a wooden crate before calling out, “Ah! Yahtzee.”
Charlie and I face the man who found what we were searching for. Suddenly, she gasps, calling out his name as she stares at the witch behind him. He turns around, and the witch snatches the key from his hand. She backhands his face, knocking him on the bed behind him before he bounces off with a grunt and rolls into the wall. The Wicked Witch pockets the key in her black cloak before raising her right hand towards the Winchester. The power began to gather in her hand, emitting a green glow.
Panicking, I shout, “No!”
Without a second thought, I jump in front of Dean. As I intended, my body shields his, absorbing the blast instead. And in the blink of an eye, I’m in the middle of the woods, the sun high in the sky, as I point a gun at the beer bottles set up ahead.
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you're telling me sam & dean are literally friends of dorothy
the fact they brought charlie back FOR THE DORTHY EPISODE will never cese to make me happy. like this is my queer coding show of course they brought back they gays for the queer history episode and of COURSE it started out with sam worried about cas and of COURSE dean had an extra conflict in which charlie who is essentially his little sister FUCKING DIES and he brings her back
THEY FUCKING KNEW WHAT THEY WERE DOINGGGGGGG
Sam Winchester + Eye Colors
red, orange, gold, yellow, green, blue, silver, white, black
15x5, 7x17, 13x9, 4x6, 9x4, 9x8, 8x15, 14x14, 2x14
LEFT A MARK - CHAPTER 10
PAIRING : dean winchester x original female character
STORY SUMMARY : in series masterlist
CHAPTER WARNINGS : age-gap. angst. fluff. sam and dean possessed. death. strong language.
A/N : obviously i changed a few things for the character insert so bear with me. hopefully y’all don’t hate it too much. thanks for reading 💜
Maricela’s POV
The bright golden rays of the sun filter through the lush foliage of the trees, creating a mesmerizing pattern of light and shadow on the forest floor. In the distance, birds sang sweet songs while squirrels chattered and scampered from branch to branch. A light breeze rustles the leaves above, and the gentle yet powerful swishing sound calms my nerves. Various glass bottles lined the fallen tree trunk a couple yards away. With my arm raised, aimed at the first bottle in the row, I stare down the sight and pull the trigger.
The gunshot echoes throughout the woods, and the birds within its range flee in fear. The recoil had caught me off guard with its powerful jerk, causing me to flinch and miss my target. I grumble, embarrassed that my audience witnessed my mistake. Sure, I was relatively new to shooting, but the boys had made it look so easy. I begin to aim again, but Dean's words stop me.
“I told you she isn’t ready to hunt. She can’t even shoot.”
My neck turns, and I make eye contact with Sam. He nods once, wearing an enigmatic smile. I draw back to the bottles before me, a sly smirk slowly forming. My right eye closes as I stare down the gun’s sight, aligning the front sight with the rear one and ensuring it’s correctly centered before squeezing the trigger. The glass shatters as the bullet hits the center. Already in the weaver stance, my upper body turns to the next bottle to land the shot. Each glass shatters as the bullet flies through the target with ease. My arms fall once there’s none left.
I turn to the boys, eager to see their reactions. The younger Winchester had been teaching me to shoot for the last week. I wasn’t the best shot when I started, though I wasn’t horrible either. Sure, I was pretending to be terrible, but seeing the surprise on Dean’s countenance made it all worthwhile. Sam’s grin was prominent. Pranking his older brother had entertained him. My lips form a cocky smile.
“Okay, so she knows how to shoot. Big whoop.” He mutters to Sam before asking, “How about a moving target? The stuff we fight don’t usually stand still.”
Dean grabs a beer bottle from the pack sitting on a tree stump near Baby. He begins to pull it from the carrier, and before he can bring it close to his body, I raise my weapon and aim precisely before clipping the bottom of the glass. The alcohol spills on the forest floor and the glass along with it. Their eyes widen as they gaze at the bottle stem Dean holds. The Winchesters gapped, stunned I did such a thing.
“Does that answer your question?” I ask rhetorically.
“You’re insane! You could’ve shot me!” Dean exclaims.
“If I wanted to shoot you, you’d be dead.”
“Oh, that's comforting.”
“C’mon, Deano, don’t be such a baby.” He rolls his eyes, unamused by my teasing. My thumb slides the safety on as I march toward Dean. I toss him my gun and grab a new beer.
I walk towards the spot I had stood in earlier and outstretch my arm, bottle in hand. “What’re doing?”
“Go ahead. Shoot.”
“What? I’m not going to do that.”
“Why? ‘Cause it’s a waste of beer?”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“But nothing. Just shoot the damn beer bottle so we can be even.” He shakes his head in protest. “C’mon, Dean. You might not trust me, but I trust you. I know you won’t miss, just like I didn’t.”
“No, I’m not gonna shot—”
“Fine!” I mumble under my breath, yet loud enough for him to hear, “Pussy.”
He quickly raises the gun and squeezes the trigger. The glass shatters and the echo of the gunshot fills the woods. I’d be laughing if it hadn’t scared me a little. I drop the last reminisce of the bottle, breaking once it hits the ground.
“There, even Steven. Now,” I stroll towards my car and pop the trunk. “Since we’re all on the same page, I thought it would be fun if we played a little game.”
The boy’s brows draw in confusion, yet curiosity beckons them over. They peer over my shoulder and into the trunk. Three face masks, three jumpsuits, three air-tanked guns, and enough ammunition to last several rounds: the great game of Paintball. A smile was plastered on my face, eager to play. I glance at the Winchesters, and they appear amused.
“Well,” I grab the first gun and toss it to Dean. “What are you guys waiting for?”
A grin grows on his handsome countenance as he looks at the gun and then at his little brother. Sam’s crooked smile responds to the glint in Dean’s eyes. And so, they began to grab the necessary equipment for the competition. This was going to be fun. And it was. Once we had suited up, it was every man for himself. We ducked and dodged. We hid behind trees, stumps, brushes—whatever we could find. Laughter and screams filled the corner of the forest we occupied. It was like we were children again, having the time of our lives without a care in the world.
Not a single boiler suit was left untouched. Each of us had gotten the other at least five times, and man, oh, man, the force of a paintball hurt like a son of a bitch. Without a doubt, there would be bruises later. It was a great but temporary way to commemorate this memory. I place my gun over a fallen tree trunk, staring down the sight as I aim at Dean. If I get this shot, I win the game. A smirk quickly forms as I squeeze the trigger. The paintball flies in the air and—
I gasp awake, quickly sitting up as my heart beats a hundred times a minute. “I win.”
“Mari?” Dean says just above a whisper as he places his hand on my shoulder.
Slightly disoriented, I gaze at the familiar man beside the bed. Worry and freight were prominent in his demeanor. “Yeah?”
Relief washes over his face, a smile threatening to appear, but he suppresses it. “I told you to stay in the dungeon.”
I chuckle, “That sounds pretty kinky.”
“Dean?” Sam groans.
“Sammy?”
“What the hell just happened?” He asks, getting up from the floor.
“The witch—the witch was about to put a whammy on me, and, uh,” Dean straightens, staring down at me with a grateful smile. “Mari jumped in front.”
The memories came rushing back, right until the moment when the green bolts stunned me. I should be dead. I was dead...No, how—how am I alive? It doesn’t make any sense. Wait...Ezekiel. Did Dean ask to bring me back, or did Zeke offer freely? I massage my temples, attempting to rub the grogginess away.
His smile falters when he continues, “She got zapped, then the witch got the drop on you.”
“Then why aren’t we dead?”
I hold my breath as I wait for his answer.
“That’s a good question.” He plays it off, voice surprisingly mellow. “I, uh, I clipped her with a—with a poppy bullet. She got the key. I think she’s gone.”
Heavy footsteps come from the corridor before Dorothy and Charlie stop at the doorway. “No. She’s wounded.”
“We should still have some time.” Charlie delivers the good news. “She could still be in the air vents.”
“She’s right,” I fling my legs over the edge of the bed, trying desperately to ignore the dizziness. “We—we have to—get her—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Dean’s hand wraps around my arm, his hold delicate yet firm as he ushers me back onto his mattress.
“Just go. We’ll catch up.” Dorothy insists.
“My gun’s over there,” I point toward the desk. “There’s one bullet in it.”
Dean grabs it and looks back at me. His gaze lingers, concern in his eyes, before leaving with Sam. Charlie sits beside me while Dorothy kneels before me, asking if I was okay. Part of me wanted to share my Heaven, but it was best not to mention I died. The last thing I needed was for them to question how I came back from the dead. No one else needed to know of Sam’s possession.
The hope of keeping my death a secret doesn’t last long when Dorothy asks, “So, what was your Heaven like?”
I gulp before trying to play dumb. “W-what? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Maricela, you died. Don’t worry about it, though. You’re not a real hunter until you’ve died and come back again.” She answers as she stands.
“What makes you think I died?”
“Heaven—it’s your dream life. And if you were zapped by the Wicked Witch,” She snaps her fingers, adding emphasis. “Instant death. I would know. She killed me, too.”
“I don’t know about a dream life. Favorite memory, sure.” I mumble under my breath.
“Okay. Let’s rewind here a bit. When did you die?” Charlie asks Dorothy.
“In Oz.” She begins to pace the room as she speaks. “My father was obsessed with his work as a Man Of Letters, and then I was born...and nothing changed. He would keep his work a secret, but I was such a curious kid. I was always looking for trouble, looking for the next big adventure.”
Charlie smiles, adding, “I know the feeling.”
“I stowed away on one of his cases, wound up in the Emerald City, accidentally got left behind. It was terrifying.”
“Wow, sounds like your parents didn’t whoop you enough.” The words had slipped out before I could realize I said it out loud. Charlie elbows my arm. “Oh, shit, sorry.”
“Well, what happened?” My red-headed friend inquires.
“I met up with these three freedom fighters, and they thought I was this child of destiny chosen to kill the Wicked Witch. They protected me, and then the witch turned them into—”
“A scarecrow, a tin man, and a lion?” I ask.
Dorothy nods. “And then she hunted me down and killed me.”
“Yeah, that never made it to the books.” Charlie chuckles awkwardly.
“Sometimes real life is darker than fiction.”
Charlie gapped at the woman before her. Then she asks, “And what about the books?”
Dorothy scoffs. “Revisionist history.” She looks into the hallway, continuing, “That’s my father’s way of trying to undo what had happened to me. But I knew the truth.”
My sluggishness had worn off, so I stood beside Charlie. She had her arms crossed as she had listened to her new friend. The redhead nods toward the brunette, motioning for us to walk over. I follow behind, and we enter the hall.
“When the witch came to our world, I became a hunter, and my father wrote those silly books.”
“Don’t you get it?” Charlie halts, causing us to do the same. “The books aren’t silly. They’re guidebooks filled with clues he left for you. Haggerty pored through each one, and his research led him to uncover the poppies, so maybe there’s something else from the books we can use, preferably something with a pointy end.”
She began to walk away as Dorothy called, “You are a genius. Come on. We’ve got to get to the garage.”
“There’s a garage in this place?!” Charlie shouts. “Oh, boy.”
We run after Dorothy as she leads the way. Shortly, we arrive before a set of stairs. The brunette turns on the power switch, lighting up the entire garage. It was huge. Classic cars lined one side, while vintage motorcycles lined the other.
Dorothy pumps her fist. “Yes. I knew those Boy Scouts would keep it for me.”
She hurriedly walks toward her bike, an Indian Junior Scout. She opens her saddle bag and pulls out a tin-head.
“Is that...?” Charlie trails off, not daring to say his name.
“Yeah.” Dorothy turns it back to herself, frowning. “He didn’t make it.”
“Ooh.”
She sets it down and digs further into the bag. “Please be here. Please be here. Yes!”
“The ruby slippers,” I utter as Dorothy hands a heel to Charlie.
“I don’t believe it.” She laughs as she examines one of the most famous memorabilia known to the 21st century. “Did you really walk down a brick road in these?”
“No. I never actually wore them. Seemed kind of tacky wearing a dead woman’s shoes. Plus, I’m no good in heels, you know?”
Charlie nods in understanding as I inquire, “I don’t suppose we could just wish her away?”
“Sorry. Another thing the books got wrong. But, like the poppies, these have magic from Oz—sharp magic.”
“Oh. Death by shoe?” Charlie says with intrigue.
We chuckle, feeling giddy that we had a way to kill the Wicked Witch.
“There you are.” A deep and gruff voice calls from behind us.
We turned around, and Sam and Dean stood motionless.
“Was that your Batman voice?” The redhead jokes. Their eyes glow a familiar green while emitting a growl. “That’s definitely not your Batman voice.”
We begin to walk backward, refusing to take our eyes off the boys as they slowly stroll toward us.
“It’s her. She possessed the both of them,” states Dorothy.
“I missed you, my pretty,” Sam spoke.
Through Dean, she says, “Killing you a second time will be just as sweet as the first.”
“Guys, I know you’re in there.” Charlie tries appealing to their humanity. “Dean, you can’t let the witch do this. If she opens the door, she’s going to destroy Oz.”
Dean grabs Charlie’s arms, and she screams in fear before he slams her back into a glass window. “I have no intention of escaping to Oz.”
Sam finishes, speaking directly to her old foe. “I’m going to bring my armies here.”
Dorothy swings the heel at him, but he quickly ducks and tackles her instead. I stand between them, frozen. Who should I help first? Or should I run off and find the witch?
“Don’t worry. You and your friend will join Dorothy right after you two watch her die.” Dean tells the woman in front of him.
“God, I hope you’ll be able to reproduce after this,” I murmur before kicking between his legs. He groans loudly, his body going stiff before dropping to the floor. “Charlie, run!”
Sam looks over at us, and Dorothy uses the distraction to grab the wooden staff beside her. Just as the younger Winchester turns his attention back to the girl he pinned, she jabs the makeshift weapon into his face. She knocks him off of her, and he falls back with a grunt. Dorothy grabs the heel before I offer my hand. She uses it to pull herself up and then spots Charlie.
“Go. We’ll buy you some time.” She shouts as she throws the slipper.
She catches it and runs down the stairs to save the day. The two men recover and slowly stand. Sam stares at Dorothy as Dean stares at me. The brunette holds up the staff, eager to use her combat skills.
“All right. Let’s see what you pencil necks are made of.”
Sam charges toward her, and she strikes. His large hand grabs the weapon and thrusts it in her face, instantly drawing blood beside her mouth. He snatches it back and snaps the wooden staff in half before tossing it to where she found it. Dean picks me up in one swift motion and flings toward Dorothy, knocking us both down. We quickly stand, facing the men.
“All right, let’s do this the old-fashioned way.” She puts up her dukes, preparing to fight her opponent. Knowing we didn’t stand a chance but refused to go down without a fight, I mirror her stance.
“My body cannot hurt you.” The witch talks through Sam as Dean pulls a knife and walks towards me, finishing with, “But theirs can.”
Dorothy throws a punch at Sam, and I throw one at Dean. He dodges it by grabbing my arm and spinning me around. My back presses against his chest and he quickly wraps his arm around my torso, holding me tight. I was face to face with Dorothy; Sam had overpowered her like his brother did me. My captor brings his blade towards my neck, the steel taunting my throat. I gulp deeply, fear running through my body. Luckily, it doesn’t last long. Sam’s eyes flash green. He blinks a few times then lets go of Dorothy. Dean pulls the knife away and his hold loosens.
In his normal voice, Sam asks, “What the hell just happened?”
“Charlie.” Dorothy and I say in unison.
Dean turns me around to face him. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I sigh in relief. “Now, let’s go find our girl.”
We sprint out of the garage, the boys ahead of us. We check each corridor we pass until we enter the War Room. Sam waves his gun around as a precaution before we look up to the balcony where Charlie stands. The Wicked Witch was nowhere to be seen. The redhead waves the key the witch stole in triumph.
“Ding-dong, bitches.”
Dean rolls his eyes, angry she faced the witch alone. It was obvious that part of his annoyance was from her accomplishment since it didn’t help his argument about her hunting. Sam smiles, proud of his friend and amused his brother had been wrong. I’m just as proud as Sam, knowing Charlie had what it took to be a great hunter.
We meet back in the garage. Sam, Charlie, and I jog up the stairs while the other two wait near the large garage door. Dean had moved Baby in, parking her right in the center.
“Baby looks good in here, huh?” Dean asks as he approaches us.
Sam chuckles, “Not bad.”
“Dean...” Charlie nods, gesturing for him to follow her away from the rest of the group.
I follow behind Sam towards the brunette. “Dorothy, I, uh—” He stares down at the book he holds. “I found something in the archives. Pretty sure it belongs to you.”
He holds it up for her to see: it was a first edition ‘The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.’
She gladly accepts it, petting the hardcover. “You have no idea how odd it is having a series of books written about you.”
You snicker, knowing Sam could relate to that feeling all too well.
He tries to repress a grin as he answers, “Actually, I-I do know, uh, and it is definitely weird. But you know what? End of the day, it’s our story, so we get to write it.”
Dorothy walks toward Dean and Charlie as we follow. "Not bad for a bunch of librarians.” The elder Winchester chuckles before she asks, “You mind keeping an eye on my bike for me?"
With his arms crossed, he responds, “Yeah, yeah, as long as you don’t mind me taking it for a spin once in a while.”
Dorothy pretends to think about it before replying, “Deal. Thank you for everything. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a rebellion to finish.” She turns toward Charlie, inquiring, “So, you coming or what?”
Her eyes widen, stunned by the question. “What? With you? To Oz.”
“Yeah. You said you were looking for adventure. Well, here it is, red. Come help me find my damn dog.”
Dean quickly tries to dissuade her. “You have no idea what’s in Oz. I mean, t-there’s flying monkeys, armies of witches. There’s all kinds of danger.”
“Promise?” Charlie lights up.
Dean’s caught off guard, not expecting her to consider the cons as pros. She pulls him into an embrace, giving him her answer. The hug doesn’t last long, just enough to say ‘See you later.’ When she pulls away, she turns to me. I give her a small smile. The moment was bitter-sweet. Of course, I didn’t want my friend to leave, but this was the adventure she’d been waiting for.
She ushers me into her arms, and I happily accept. “Go kick some ass.”
“You know it.”
I pull away and step back, allowing Sam to get his turn.
“If you need anything, just, uh,” He pulls her into his embrace, concluding with, “Tap your heels together three times, okay?”
They pull away before she answers. “Me? What about you crazy kids? You gonna be all right without me?” Sam smiles as he glances at Dean, who shrugs dramatically. “Take care of yourselves.”
Charlie glances at each of us, taking us in until the next time she sees us, whenever that may be. We nodded, telling her to do the same and that it was okay for her to go. She and Dorothy turn and walk a few steps to the garage doors. The brunette pulls out the key to Oz and slides it into the keyhole, unlocking the doors before them. With a heavy push, the doors open, revealing the land of Oz. The girls cross over, and Sam, Dean, and I stride closer, our mouths agape.
Holy shit, I thought. I can’t freaking believe it. It was real. Out of everything we’ve seen, Oz is real. And it was beautiful. The sun was high in the sky, illuminating the captivating realm. The yellow brick road paved the way through the land towards the Emerald City, surrounded by grassy mountains. The Palace of Oz stood in the heart of the city. It glimmered and shined, even from so far away.
Charlie glances back, the biggest smile gracing her face. Dorothy salutes us, and Sam salutes back. Our amazement was more than words could describe. We watch as she and Dorothy begin their path on the yellow brick road. The garage doors close behind them, but curiosity makes the boys push them back open. But the realm was gone, along with our dear friend. We sigh, seeing the tunnel that leads out of the bunker instead.
“Think she’ll be back?” Dean inquires.
“Of course. There’s no place like home.” Sam answers.
No place like home. The words echo in my brain. I couldn’t remember the last time I was in Wisconsin. Maybe six or seven months ago. Suddenly, I become very homesick.
Quietly, I make my way back to my room. I grab my duffle bag and set it on my mattress. After heading straight to my dresser, I pull it open and stuff a week’s worth of outfits into the bag. I dart around the room, collecting everything I need. Once I finish, I begin mentally checking off items. A knock on the door draws my attention.
“Come in,” I call.
The door opens, and Dean walks in. “Hey, I just wanted to—” His eyes glance at my weekend bag. “A-are you leaving?”
“Uh, yeah, I am.”
“Mari, you can’t be serious,” He strolls into my room and towards me. “Look, I know I was stupid. I shouldn’t’ve said what I said. I was just pissed, and even though I know it’s not an excuse, I don’t think you should leave because of it.”
“Dean—”
“No, Mari. Just listen.” He closes the distance between us quickly. “I don’t deserve you. I treated you like shit, and you—you threw yourself in front of me anyway, knowing you were gonna die. And for that, I’ll be forever thankful.”
I shrug as if it was no big deal as my gaze wanders from his beautiful eyes, but really, I was trying to keep the tears at bay.
“I’ve taken you for granted, and I, uh, I wanted to say I’m sorry.” His large hand brushes my side bang behind my ear, capturing my attention. Dean’s face is so close, I can feel his breath as he begs, “Please, don’t leave.”
“I...” My breath gets caught in my throat. He’s dangerously close. So close I can reach up and kiss him. I wait for him to make the first move, but when he doesn’t, my doubt prevails. “I’ll be back. I promise.”
His gaze lingers a little while longer before he pulls me into an embrace. I melt into his arms, letting the anger drift away. His fingers comb through my hair while his other hand rubs soothing circles against my back. With every strength in my body, I hold the tears in. The urge to cry passes and I couldn’t be more grateful. Our hug lasts longer than any other one we’ve exchanged and, in some way, it was healing.
“So, where you headed?”
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen my family. Figured I’d go visit for a week. No place like home, right?”
“Don’t forget this is your home too. No matter how many arguments we might get into, you belong here, with us. Only if you want to.”
I chuckle but reassure him. “I want to.”
“Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
The last few words remind me of my Heaven, and I couldn’t be happier to have spent it with the Winchesters.
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Here i was, hoping Charlie would lighten the mood and she dies (admittedly temporarily but still).
Charlie and Dean are my fave
Also, Dean really needs to get better at lying....
