𝐜𝐰 : +18. MDNI. smut (piv, clit rubbing). sex in workplace. filmed sexual relations. pet names (baby, pretty, sweetheart, beautiful). gentle dom beau. creampie (? kinda.
Slow, almost gently, like he's trying not to bottom out and ruin it, Beau slides in and out of you with a pace that's been making the tension building in your lower belly painfully tight.
The drag of his length every time he drives his hips forward pushes you just a little further against his desk where he has you bent over, the quiet squelch where your bodies are joined making you hot in the face. It's getting harder to think about anything else but how disarmingly well he stuffs full you every time.
He's been teasing you like this for ten minutes, making you think he's about to quicken his pace only to push into you languidly again, the grip of his hands around your hips loosening and clenching every time you do the same around his girth, finding stability in the softness of your flesh.
"You okay, baby?" He asks ever so gently, his voice just loud enough to break through the haze of your mushy brain. "Need me t'stop?" The erratic shake of your head is enough answer.
Beau gives a quick look to your phone that's propped up by coats and a stack of documents on one of the chairs in front of his desk.
This was his idea, filming while his fucking you so cruelly like this, but he wanted to let you have full control of what happens with this video once it stops recording.
You— sweet, stupidly blissed out you, starting to drool over a report sheet on the desk because you just can't help it when his tips keeps bumping that pulpy, almost alive spot inside of you— can only nod, barely ducking your head down a few times, chin brushing against your shoulder, before your eyes shut tight, letting out another of those whines that are starting to sound like you're about to cry.
It started a few days ago. The idea bloomed in Beau's mind after a painfully long week where he couldn't see you until the next morning, which seemed unacceptable and strangely physically painful for him.
He was needy, lonely, and he couldn't get his hands on the real thing. Couldn't cup your face between his hands, couldn't trace the shape of your lips with the tip of his tongue, couldn't reach down and rub your arousal all over your slit and sensitive bud like he's doing now.
Sure, he had that spectacularly hot and simultaneously tender Polaroid you took for him six months into your relationship to give himself some relief, the one he keeps in the same drawer of everything of real value he owns in the trailer.
Pebbled nipples under one of his flannels, peeking out under the hem where you had bunched it up around the upper part of your midriff, hand between your legs and tights pulled apart just enough to make him shudder every time he looks at it.
He's even made a copy of it, just one— you know, just in case the original got lost— but he's not ready to tell you about that yet.
That night he needed to watch your flushed face, the thin coat of sweat building up on your skin after each thrust. Needed the deliciously slick sound of his skin meeting yours and the way your body shivers against him.
Couldn't get the idea of your cunt dripping down the edge of his desk, each sway forward of his body making your clit rub against it.
And he didn't have anything like that available at any time except for his memory, where he had taken you after hours in this same room.
Until today.
You came in after a couple of days of not seeing eachother, wearing that gorgeous smile on your face and that glimmer in your eyes that told him how much you had missed him, and you kissed him like you wanted him to eat you alive, and he just couldn't help himself, so he did.
He was more than relieved to know you were into it. That you had been thinking about it, too.
It's risky to fuck you silly in this workplace, a police station, he knows. But everyone's gone home early today, and the idea of having a video of you, bent over his desk, huffing and puffing like you're actually going to start shedding tears if he keeps delaying your orgasm...
Yeah, he would've been pretty fucking stupid if he hadn't asked you to film a sextape in his office.
He'll fantasize about this day until the day he dies. He'll fight to keep this position if that means he can come back here until he can barely walk and think about the scene laid in front of him.
"What's that, pretty?" He hums softly, like he's trying to console you, his right hand releasing your hip for a moment just to thread his fingertips through the strands masking the side of your face. "You gotta tell me how good it feels, okay? Can you tell me how good it feels?" He brushes them aside, tenderly caressing the side of your head as your face becomes into display for the camera.
"Feels so good," There's a ridiculously notorious waver to your voice, eyes meeting the lens, but you've started to use all of your willpower to not come yet.
There aren't words that are good enough to describe the way you look right now, with those beautiful eyes encased in a thick layer of tears and the spit edged on the rim of your lips where it's already dripped over whatever paperwork he has tending to an hour ago.
"So pretty," Your moan echoes his words, thin and pitiful enough to make him smile fondly as he watches your eyelashes flutter, sparkling your precious tears on the desk. "So, so pretty. Oh, beautiful, didn't mean to make you cry."
When he leans down to soothe your sorrows away, caging you down onto the sturdy wooden surface, you let out the first sob, frustrated and pent up enough to start blubbering, a variation of wanna come and please, please, please Beau and feels so good, feels too good.
In this new angle he rests his head over your shoulder, starting to pick up his pace again and with that ripping a moan out of you that he wishes he could bottle up and pour all over his body next time he can't have your touch.
Beau looks into the camera at the same time one of your hand comes up to fist his silky, chestnut tufts of messy hair, grunting against your skin when his own release threatens to snap at him.
There's something uniquely sweet in the way the tip of his fingers crawl down the arm of your free hand and interlock with yours, guiding the other one back between your thighs, the sluggish pace of his hips unconcerned about the way your cunt squeezes him so hard it makes him dizzy.
"Wanna come?" Needless to say that you immediately nod your head like it hurts to even think about not doing so. "Gonna come now?" His middle finger fiddles with your clit and you feel miserably perfect, like this is the way sheer pleasure feels and nothing else but this. "Want me to cream this pretty pussy so good? Wanna be full of me?" His voice is so placid and soft his words barely sounds filthy at all.
"Please." You whine again, your breath catching in your chest when he somehow manages to cram all of his cock inside of you, your vision becoming blurry for a moment before it takes over your whole body like dead weight made out of ecstasy.
Feels so good. Youf feel so perfect and My precious, perfect girl is what you hear while everything shuts down around you, his thick cum bathing your insides and the wreck of your orgasm is all you can feel for some solid three minutes.
During that time, he nuzzles his nose behind your ear, velvety pecks peppered all over your sticky skin, broad hands rubbing your arms and your back up and down, a new trail of praises leaving his mouth when you come back to him, peering up at him over your shoulder like he's just brought the world to your feet.
"Love you," You manage you mumble tiredly, pulling a saccharine sweet smile from him and earning you a smooch on the left corner of your mouth.
"Love you, sweetheart." He pats your bare ass gently before carefully pulling out of you, hearing the soft sound you make with your face hidden against your upper arm and taking the chance then to rub two fingers over your still very sensitive puffiness, making sure everything leaking out of you can be stuffed back in.
"Can't let anything go to waste, can we?" You just let out a shameful chuckle at that against your clothed arm. His hand searches for your face and slowly prods two fingers inside your mouth. "Atta girl. Mhm, that's good, isn't it?" And you suck them clean until they're wet with your spit only, smiling against his lips when he leans down to kiss you again, properly this time.
𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 : well... this is pretty shitty but i had a spurt of inspiration and i couldn't just kill it, so...
also i feel like it's a little ooc or that is a little weak of substance, but WHATEVER.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Blurb: It's simply complicated. For starters, you're supposed to be the villian and he's supposed to be the hero. Separated as teenagers, neither of you thought you would ever see the other. But fate retwines your paths after twenty-five years as a Murderer and a Detective. You're wanted in the worst ways possible, but he still wants you because you're his Trouble. And he needs to catch you alive before someone else shoots you dead.
Tags/Trigger Warnings (18+): language, voilence, gore, flashbacks, yearning, murders, hitwoman, police/detective novel, mentions of human trafficking and selling children (not too graphic), car accidents, major character deaths (sort of, but not really), minor character deaths, mentions of glioblastoma multiform (brain tumor), headaches, dizziness, hospital visits, angst, fluff, alcohol, cigrettes, hacking, lovers-to-enemies-to-lovers, tons of miscommunication and misunderstandings, mentions of cheating (doesn't happen but it's mentioned), mentions of jail and aryan brotherhood (undercover work), etc.
{ Mark Meachum Masterlist ; Main Masterlist }
Series:
Author's Note.
Playlist.
Epigraph.
Prologue.
Chapter 1: Detective, Meet Trouble.
(More to be added soon!)
A/N: If you want to be on the tag list, please comment below, or you can also DM me!
It's me, ya favorite gremlin, on anon for funsies - I am here to be a menace. I would like your well educated opinion on the Jensen boys' favorite positions. 👀 Let's goooooo.
me, screaming and kicking my legs like we’re not in the trenches together daily already. ily. thank you, my fav gremlin, for this cultural contribution. let’s begin. <3
SOLDIER BOY/BEN: this man’s favourite position is any one where he’s in control and you’re not wearing a goddamn thing but his dog tags and a fucked-dumb little grin.
ben’s not just dominant. he’s possessive, primal, and somewhere under all the posturing and trauma? starving for affection he doesn’t know how to ask for. so when he fucks, it’s not just about getting off—it’s about control, claiming, proving he still matters.
his favourite position? missionary—but not sweet, not romantic. soldier boy missionary. it’s pin-you-down, headboard-breaking, spit-in-your-mouth missionary. he needs to look at you. needs to watch your eyes roll back. needs to see the exact moment you fall apart for him. and he’s saying shit like: “you like that? you like bein’ split open like this? fuckin’ knew you would.” while he’s choking you with one hand and cradling the back of your head with the other like you’re the only soft thing left in the world.
he’s rough. he’ll manhandle you without thinking—hook your knees over his shoulders, throw your leg up, slam your hips down on him like he owns your body and your goddamn soul. (spoiler: he does.)
also? he loves the mirror. loves taking you from behind, one hand tangled in your hair, making you watch him in the reflection while he wrecks you. “look at you, baby. takin’ it so fuckin’ good. proud of you.”
and ben is obsessed with cockwarming. i do not make the rules.
bonus: once you’ve broken him in emotionally? he does that same position but slow. aching. like he’s scared he’ll never get to do it again.
he fucks like he’s trying to burn the memory into your body. because he’s terrified it’ll be the last time.
DEAN WINCHESTER: dean’s default setting is munch. he’ll finger you until you’re shaking, sure, but he’s got one goal from the second your legs open: face-first, tongue out, eyes locked, worship.
his favourite position? you on your back, legs over his shoulders, his mouth buried between your thighs. but again, it’s not just sex for him—it’s penance. he’s down there like it’s the only way to earn forgiveness for all the things he thinks he’s done wrong. moaning, panting, literally begging you to come on his tongue. and when you do? he keeps going. and going. and going.
he’s a big fan of cowgirl. because he loves to be used. loves watching you ride him, thighs shaking, lips parted, hair a mess, hands on his chest while he’s moaning like he’s being blessed.
he’ll still help—grabbing your hips, thrusting up, giving you that cocky little “is that all you got, sweetheart?” smile while dying inside.
but if he really needs to feel you? if he’s feeling soft? vulnerable? it’s you in his lap. arms around his neck. slow grinding, forehead to forehead. and he’s whispering: “never had anyone like you… never wanted to.”
also? he’s obsessed with taking you from behind in the impala—you bent over the seat, skirt hiked up, begging for it. the second he hears “dean, please”, it’s over. he’s wrecking you with praise and filth like: “that’s it, sweetheart, take it—my girl—fuck, you were made for me.”
he loves pulling out and rubbing his cock between your soaked folds while you beg him to put it back in. loves hearing the wet sounds (duh?) and loves when you’re loud for him because he doesn’t believe he deserves it—but fuck, he needs it.
and the motherfucker 10000% has the praise kink to end all praise kinks. you cannot tell me otherwise. go argue with the wall. he also thanks you in a breathy, whiney little tone. voice cracking. panting and moaning. the whole nine yards. subby baby-boy energy.
but whatever the position? dean’s not stopping until your legs don’t work and your voice is hoarse. and he’s asking “one more?” like you ever had a choice.
bonus: dean loves dry humping.
CJ BRAXTON: i'm gonna seem like such a hater but... cj definitely thinks he’s a dom. he is the guy who thinks he’s really good in bed. he says shit like, “you’ve never had it like this before, huh?” while doing the bare minimum. but you know what? he tries. and sometimes? that’s enough.
his favourite position is you on your back, legs pushed up high, because it makes him feel dominant and because he loves watching your tits bounce. but what really gets him? when you look at him all soft and whiny and say “please, cj…” he melts. gets cocky. starts talking shit. “yeah? beg for it then. lemme hear it.”
…until you flip him over and ride him so hard he short-circuits.
he has a secret praise kink but would never admit it. absolutely loses his mind if you say he feels good. “yeah? yeah? fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me—shit—”
he’s got potential. he just needs a little guidance. somebody get him a vibrator and a tumblr tutorial and he might actually start changing lives.
ALEC MCDOWELL: alec is a jackrabbit backshots kinda guy until you teach him to slow the fuck down. military-grade stamina. he could go for hours.
favourite position? you bent over literally anything—table, wall, car hood, arm of the couch—he’s not picky. he likes the view. he likes the control. but most of all? he likes hearing you whine. gets this smug little smirk and says, “you gonna be a good girl and take it, or am I gonna have to hold you down?”
but the second you show a hint of dominance—grab his chin. ride his thigh. make eye contact while you’re on top and say his name? he folds. gets quiet. handsy. a little shaky. starts fingering you like he’s praying.
he learns fast. and once he figures out your body? it’s over. he’ll have you coming three times in a row just so he can say “that was a new record, right?” and act like he’s not obsessed with every sound you make.
bonus: loves sex in risky places. gets feral if there’s a chance you might get caught.
JASON TEAGUE: pure rich boy repressed ragefuck energy. he’s polite in public and unhinged behind closed doors. and his favourite position is you on your knees. not even for the act itself—just for the visual.
he loves the power dynamic. loves seeing you look up at him like you’d do anything he says.
but the one that actually breaks him? riding. not because he wants to give up control—but because he tries to hold it together and fails miserably. you lean down, kiss his neck, say “you like watching me fuck myself on you, huh?” and he’s GONE. fists in the sheets. panting. saying shit like, “you’re gonna make me come—fuck—don’t stop.”
he gets obsessed. starts lifting you up and slamming you down. starts chasing it like it hurts to need you this much.
mirror sex is also high on the list because he wants to watch. wants you to see how fucked-out you look. “look at what you do to me.” (jason. baby. we see it.)
and afterward? he’s real quiet. real soft. brushes your hair back and kisses your shoulder like he didn’t just rail you into another dimension.
BEAU ARLEN: you cannot tell me he ain’t a slow grind, deep eye contact, whole hand on your stomach to feel himself inside you kind of guy. but it’s deeper than just sex for him—it’s connection. he doesn’t fuck to blow off steam. he fucks to feel something.
his favourite position? spooning in the early morning, under warm sheets, the kind of sex that’s all sighs and soft skin and lazy hips.
one hand under your head, the other gripping your hip, pressing kisses to the back of your neck like he’s scared you’ll slip through his fingers. and the filth he whispers? oh, bby—it’s quiet, drawled, reverent. “you feel that? every inch? you’re takin’ me so damn good, darlin’. so proud of you.”
but don’t let the softness fool you. beau’s got rage under the surface.
and when it breaks through? you’re up against the wall. your dress is hiked up, panties pushed aside, and he’s lifting you like it’s nothing—like he needs you. he’s got one hand under your ass, the other gripping your thigh, fucking into you with a fevered rhythm like he’s been holding back for years. his jaw’s tight, his voice rough in your ear: “you got any idea what you do to me?”
and when you moan for him? he just mutters “that’s my girl.” like he’s staking a claim.
bonus: afterwards, he holds you so close it’s almost crushing. buries his face in your neck. he says he doesn’t believe in forever, but fuck—he wants it. and when you brush his hair back and kiss his cheek? you swear his hands tremble just a little.
RUSSELL SHAW: russell is not loud. he’s not messy. he’s precise. he is a body language expert so he notices every blink, every breath, every twitch of your thighs—and he absolutely uses it against you.
his favourite position? legs over his shoulders, you pinned to the mattress, spread out and helpless, while he’s slow-drilling into you with the intensity of someone watching a target through a sniper scope. and he doesn’t talk at first. just watches. cataloguing what makes your eyes roll back. filing away the way your voice breaks when he hits just the right spot.
but the second you start to unravel? he fucking snaps. voice low, almost loving in how dangerous it sounds: “that’s it. just like that. fuck—so beautiful when you come for me.”
he’s a control freak in the sheets. but not in a selfish way. he wants to ruin you—but only so he can piece you back together.
also? he has a thing for face cradling. quiet, sacred moments in the middle of the chaos. pulling your hand to his chest, kissing your palm mid-thrust, like it grounds him. “you’re safe. i’ve got you.” it’s not just sex for him—it’s data, it’s worship, it’s homework.
bonus: he lives for the moment when you’re riding him, smug and in control—until you falter. your rhythm stutters, your eyes go wide, and his hands slide up your waist as he smirks like the end is already written. “you tried, sweetheart. let me finish it.” and then he does.
he fucks you like he’s solving an unsolvable riddle. and when you fall apart in his hands? he looks at you like he just found the answer.
in conclusion:
the jensen boys are unreasonably good at sex in wildly different, deeply chaotic ways. ben is a menace. dean is a munch. beau is a porchlight in the dark. russell is a psychological thriller. alec is cocky until he’s not. jason is unravelling. and cj is trying so hard and honestly? that’s hot.
thank you for coming to my totally scientific analysis. i am now emotionally and spiritually pregnant. <3
Dean would chuckle when you presented the gift you got for him. He'll wear it in secret, only for you. Of course, he'd be careful to not let Sam get a look at the pants, knowing he'd never hear the end of it...
Ben would laugh, and laugh, and laugh - when he stops, he'd ask. "Is there a bigger size because my trunk is bigger."
Russel would tell you no, then pick them back up from the floor where he dropped them. He'd smirk and hold them in front of you. "I'll wear them if you rub the trunk."
Beau would try not to laugh. He'd look at it, ponder for a moment, before trying it on. "It's fluffy and cute," You'd say, making him smile. "Well, not as cute as you," he'd answer.
Pairing: American Dean Winchester X English Y/N L/N; American Dean Winchester X American Y/N L/N.
Blurb: Purgatory suits you, to be honest. Plenty of distractions to choose from, you can kill as many as to your heart's content. And your heart is one insatiable bastard—it'll do anything to keep the memories of your ex away. Until a face much similar to his struts up into your territory, looking for you, promising you a home you lost too long ago. Your heart melted once before, do you think you would be able to risk it all again for the same criminally handsome face?
Warnings/Trigger Warnings (18+): Supernatural Wars spoilers, major and minor character deaths, mentions of previous major character deaths, violence, gore, tons of angst, (sort of, but not really) love triangle, language, self-sacrifices (not exactly suicide), betrayals, etc.
Note: This was written four years ago and English is my second language - I've tried to edit without losing the past-me's "authenticity", but let's face it, spellings ain't my strong suit, and even Grammerly gave up, soooo all the mistakes are mine 🙂🙃.
{ Series Masterlist ; Main Masterlist }
Purgatory Series: Part 7.
Being in Purgatory via dreams while your face-thief yapped about how pertinent it was to save your soulmate was not fun. Watching other Universes crumble when you were just trying to get a few hours of sleep in was not fun. Losing all your family and friends because you were a monster was not fun. Hunting monsters as a job, which didn't pay, was not fun.
But this?
Dying to arrive at Purgatory?
Let's just say you've had better fucking hangovers.
'I'm never drinking again,' you'd growled under your breath as soon as you'd woken up and realised what had happened.
This was worse than everything bad in your life. Purgatory made it look like your life had always been filled with sunshine and rainbows.
You had but a faint recollection of how you got here. But surely, "I wish I had never pissed off a Winchester" made it up the ranks in your bucket list faster than the blink of an eye.
Oh, did you mention that you had been attacked the moment you had opened your eyes after dying back on Earth?
Once the initial shock had subsided, your hunter reflexes had been back in action.
Some hunter I am, you cursed yourself. Killed by a freaking human. Didn't even have the time to defend myself . . .
You wanted badly to blame it on how drunk you were - you didn't think your ego could take it otherwise - you still believed a tiniest part of you didn't fight on purpose.
You had a growing suspicion that the only fight you put up was to get a reaction out of that guy. Your drunk self had succeeded because if your face-thief from your dreams was correct, then the only way you were making it out was through the human portal, through the only human in this hellhole who could actually cross the said fucking portal. And it was that one human you hadn't wanted to save in the first place.
Okay, maybe there was no saving your ego - it was bruised; beaten black and blue. Wrecked, really.
Trotting through the woodland carefully, you had an ear out to listen for odd noises, which you had quickly realised that that could be anything in here. You were so tensed with the idea that any second now, anything could attack and devour you; it was puzzling to imagine how any human could survive this long - let alone two!
You had to admit, you weren't much better than humans, you barely had any power when it came to fighting off monsters because your only power was dreaming, and it wasn't exactly like you could just take a break and take a nap right now. Plus, let's face it, even with your dreams you didn't stand much chance against the monster folk in here. So, you were as good as a human, too.
Yay, fun times.
And to add shame to you're already limping dignity, you had to now go seek help from the namesake who you had been denying help for weeks now . . . Dammit! Could I be more pathetic?
You twirled almost mindlessly the golden dagger in your hand. It had been lying around on the floor and formed to be a good distraction from the continuous flow of war talk. Most of it was in the foreign language that you had only recently started comprehending.
This is so boring, Dean had whined in your ear.
Sh! It's important.
I'm dying here.
You'd shot him a bitch-face. You're a baby.
Oh, now I'm a baby? You called me old yesterday. Make up your damn mind.
I know what you're doing. It's not working.
What am I doing?
Riling me up.
Well, you do push me around so good when I rile you up, his sultry voice had whispered in your ear.
That had been a satisfying night.
You were indulging your happy memories until a few officials flooded into the room with urgent frowns.
'Human!' the one in the front exclaimed.
Your groan was involuntary. 'What'd he do now?'
The official gave you a distasteful look - and you honestly understood - Dwarves are territorial, it isn't fun to have a human on your premises, in the dead-centre of a war plan that's supposed to wipe your arch-nemesis' species' existence.
But he schooled his look, 'No him. Her. You. Y/N here.'
'No. Y/N here,' another little guy who had already been in the room said, pointing at you.
'No, no, no this Y/N. Y/N! She here!'
Hope bloomed in your chest and you couldn't believe that your look-alike actually died . . . She came to save Dean.
'Y/N, this only!' the person said, getting impatient. 'Dumb!' he then pointed at the official who had brought the news of the American.
'I think,' you interrupted before it could escalate. 'He meant my doppelganger is here.'
Nan-nan, the one who called Sav-ty dumb, looked at you like you were an alien.
'Dop—whaaaa?'
You had to repress a smile. Most of them were still learning English.
'—pelganger,' you completed, 'My look-alike.' You switched attention to the one who did understand your language. 'Kan-fir, it's her. She's here to save Dean.'
He nodded thoughtfully. 'Well. Bring in.'
An obedient nod later, Sav-ty gestured to the Dwarves behind him. In came a small group of marchers carrying Y/N, bound and gagged.
Her body wiggled and squirmed, trying to get away from the fingers of the small creatures that likely felt like insects crawling on the skin (personal experience). They dumped her on the ground with no gentleness, and you kinda got the feeling that she may have deserved it - if your past encounters with her were anything to go by.
They ripped off her gag, and the curses that poured out of her made you want to go back to Earth, go to a store, and buy a label on which you could write "Rated R, not recommended for children and dwarves. Interact with at your own risk."
'You!' she snarled with venom, her eyes falling on the one person her size - literally - given that she looked exactly like you, down to the last hair, and even the pitch of her voice. 'When I get out of these, you're gonna be the first fucking person I'm gonna find! I'm gonna gouge your pretty eyes out and shove them so far up your perky ass that your gonna feel how fucking slimy it is in your goddamn perfect mouth!'
You almost laughed at the self-appreciation she seemed to intersperse in with her threats. That's a new personality you were witnessing.
'Charming. Also self-involved,' you sighed. 'I think Dean can make you a better person.' You know your Dean had done it for you.
'My God! You're still on that!?' she let loose a manic laugh. 'Jesus. Talk about not being able to move on.'
You deflated as something dawned on you: 'I assume you died per an accident.'
'Obviously. Did you think I'd come to get your lover's whore ass?' she bared her teeth, an action bordering on animalistic.
'I mean, he did get around. He wasn't paid for it, but they should pay him,' you mused - quickly realising how off-topic you were. 'However, he's extremely loyal when he's with someone - that, I know.'
'I. Don't. Care!'
'Y/N,' Kan-fir called, 'Do kill we her?'
'"Do we kill her?",' you corrected. 'And no. Could you give us some privacy?'
'Sure?' he asked in doubt.
'Yes,' you flashed him a smile. 'And, untie her, too. She's not dangerous.'
'You're not dangerous!' she snarled.
But it was hard to be scared of a woman who wore the face of a person you've underestimated your whole life. Also, she was hilariously entitled. You realised that being as lonely and as isolated as she had made herself, it might have been bound to happen . . . Weren't you somewhat like that once?
You took her by the wrists, twisted her arms behind her back, and pushed her out of the cabin, walking on the thick gnarly bark of the elongated branch.
The American version of you wiggled, her feet tremoring, trees an uncharted territory. You'd been there.
You halted when she very nearly tipped over; your fingers flexed on her joint hands and her flannel collar. 'One thing: you need to stop squirming.'
'You're squirming!' she shot back.
'Two things,' you corrected yourself. 'You need to stop squirming, and you need better come-backs.'
'Your face needs a better comeback! Bitch!'
'I'm dealing with a twelve-year-old.' You interrupted before she could speak again, 'If you say, "your face is a twelve-year-old", I will slap you like I'm Connary.'
That seemed to pause her. 'How do you even know who that is?' she said instead. 'I didn't think he was in your world. Heck, I didn't think you knew what a T.V. was!'
'We had T.V.,' you told her. 'We also had Universe Travellers who could bring content from other Universes for the said T.V.' You paused, 'Even I've travelled, specifically through Y/Ns who share my scars - emotional and physical.'
She was exasperated: 'If you can fucking travel, why did you approach me? You could have just jumped into our world and all would have been sweet and dandy!'
You gauged her thoughtfully - did she not know about your visit?
'Excuse me?'
'You said you travelled through Y/N's - Hello!? I'm Y/N, travel through me like I'm your gate to my world, then leave me the frack alone.'
'You are a dreamwalker, correct?'
'No, that'd be your face!'
Considered, but you resisted slapping.
Your eyes fell to her rolled up sleeves. An expanse of smooth, creamy skin. No scar.
Shock rippled through your chest while your face remained an unchanged poker. You were sure you had hitched a hike in this Universe's Y/N. She had a scar, and that's what triggered your return to your own Universe.
My face-thief . . . I've been expecting you.
It took you under a minute to figure out what had transpired: you had jumped the body of a future version of this dreamwalker. No wonder the American Dean from that time was looking at you weirdly - like he knew you, and he'd lost you . . .
Suddenly, everything fell into place. You knew exactly what to do now. You could see the end.
'Let's go,' you said, a smile twitching on your lips. It was a smile of insanity, acceptance and peace. 'Let's go meet Dean.'
She smirked down at him in soft love. Her fingers went to brush his blood-soaked hair away from his eyes.Dean sighed, fluttering his world-weary eyes open, smiling a half-smile, his head in line with her ripped open stomach - one that she had just extracted the knife out of.Her legs were crossed under herself, letting Dean rest his head in her lap in the handful of breaths those two had left.
Your eyes sorrowed, you knew this couple - you had dreamt of them earlier. Just another world, another Universe for you - but for them, this was their life. And it was ending.
You hated it. You hated the goodbyes.
At least, this inevitable doom of theirs didn't seem to be deterring them from joking.
'Told you today was no good for an outing, Dean-o.'
'Yeah, well,' a cough, then some more, 'We had some fun killing monsters.'
A raised brow, 'Oh, sure, sure. Being stabbed and watching the love of my life being ripped apart slowly was the highlight of my day.'
'Finally, you've learnt to be an optimist.'
Both chuckled. Then hacked a few coughs. Y/N's hand came away bloody, a tear tracked down her cheek. Another sniffle, 'Do you . . . Do you think . . . Maybe in some another Universe—?'
'Definitely,' he cut her off, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. 'We have to be happy somewhere.'
She sighed, 'I wish we had a happy life here.'
'We did for a while.'
'You know what I mean.'
He locked eyes with her, understanding plaguing both of their features as fear chipped away at their last moments of solace they brought each other.
'It's been an honor loving you, Almost-Mrs. Y/N Winchester,' he winked.
And it never failed to clench your heart - the always almost. Everyone was always a couple, but never married - never really together. No kids, no real life - just a love that died.
'Likewise, Mr. Dean Winchester,' she chuckled airily as if her voice couldn't really decide whether she wanted to cry or laugh.
Another reason not to save your soulmate. Another proof that you wouldn't survive with him. Another sob story, another heartthrob - another way your relationship with him failed.
'Wake up!' a yell rung through her dream. It disoriented you - the voice - it was yours, just in a different accent. Blinks didn't get you anywhere for a few long seconds, until you focused on the wood beneath your palms.
Treehouse.
Purgatory. Death. English Y/N.
Your soulmate.
Right.
'We need to move,' she told you, without waiting for you to collect your thoughts.
She was already packing her things, speaking quickly and short. 'Werewolves scented me.' It was then that you noticed the huge gash along her side. 'They'll be here anytime now.'
'You're bleeding.'
'What an accurate observation,' she scoffed, shooting you an angry glance. 'Now, if you don't want to meet the same fate, I suggest you move your ungrateful arse!'
You obeyed. Handing her the requirements, and helping her stuff them in an already bulging bag. You grasped the bottle of the miraculous medicine, putting the bottleneck to her lips, 'Drink.'
Surprise flickered in her expression, doing as told.
'Since when do you care for me?'
You realised how out of character that had been for you. But cut yourself some slack - you'd just seen one of your other face-thieves die in arms of, and alongside, your supposed lover's lookalike.
You sheathed your vulnerability into a bitch-face: 'I don't. You're my ticket out of here.'
She nodded thoughtfully, like she was trying to look for some humanity under my brashness. You hoped she wouldn't see beyond your adversely insolent attitude. She should believe you didn't care.
'What's the plan?' you asked when you two left the house and started walking east.
'Don't die,' she snarked. 'And do what I say.'
You were nearing your one-week-death-aniversary and she had been giving you the same effing answer for a week.
'You're so hell bent on saving him; yet you haven't introduced us,' you said.
Your first attack yielded no response.
'You didn't tell me why you didn't just use me to get out like a portal into our world. Wouldn't have had the rest of the drama to deal with then, you know?'
Zilch reaction.
'What about those scars?'
You spied a twitch of an eye. Maybe it was your desperate imagination.
'You're hiding something,' you accused. 'I'm going to find out, you know?'
A sigh.
You called that progress.
Then again, you'd already covered all the areas you just mentioned - this was very little progress that you made every day. How do you press her buttons further?
You chewed on your bottom lip. With your patience running out and her endless capacity for silent treatment, you might have to resort to some dirty tactics.
'I don't know why you think I'll fall for him - I won't.'
She finally glanced your way, 'You talk big game, but I think you act this way on purpose - so that he doesn't love you, and you don't have to even bother pushing him away.'
Impressive.
'What do you know - I have a free therapist.'
'Lucky you.'
You breathed long through your nose. Do not kill the person who's gonna save your life - do not kill her.
'You think you're doing us a favor, aren't you? Say, we did fall in love - then what? It'll end. Like it always does. Either me, or him, or both-ah'-us - we end up heartbroken.'
'Or you don't. You know one out of a hundred cases - semantics.'
'You're delusional if you think there's even a one percent survival rate of this relationship. I don't know with what right you people call yourselves soulmates - you just end up destroying each other!'
'At least you won't be a loveless zombie then,' she replied, nonplussed.
It frustrated you how consistent she was in defending the one person who ruined her the most. You didn't get how loving and letting him go could possibly be better than never having loved him at all.
At least your heart was still beating merrily, but the reason for her heartbeats was gone.
'You mean, I won't be like you,' you retorted. 'A loveless zombie.'
She cut you a dark look. You got cocky with that reaction.
'Oh, wait! You do love a person,' you said. 'Here, in Purgatory. And you're gonna lose him all over again!'
You were pushed up against a tree so fast that the impact was almost non-existent, your focus immediately drawn to her furious e/c orbs, her height on par with yours.
She posed an intimidating picture. You kept your mouth shut because you knew she could take you down. You'd been in her mind, and it was pretty obvious she was resourceful. A cold tingle down your spine didn't fail to remind you that you may not be her only plan - just the best and the easiest.
'There's a line,' she warned. 'Don't cross it.'
You clenched your jaw in defiance. 'I was just trying to break the ice.'
'You don't want to do it, you're on wafer-thin ice,' her elbow dug into your neck which she was using to keep you pinned in a chokehold. 'You break it, and you won't need Dean to destroy you.'
Ego reared its ugly head. 'You need me.'
She released you. 'You know why I can't use you like a portal?' She pulled an arrow, noticing the protest on your face, which she replied with a punch, harshly grasping your face and aligning the pointy edge with your neck.
'You aren't meant to be a portal,' she deadpanned. 'None of us are. We can be replaced though, by the people you've met, or share the same backgrounds as we do. For example, I once took over the body of a Princess who had to hide her relationship with Prince Dean because of the other Royals, and she shared the scar that I have. You know when I could take over?'
You hardened your glare.
'When she died,' she enunciated.
Fear lanced your very being.
'And you . . . I've travelled in you before. Albeit, I was the problem of the future you who donned the scar. So, when I say I travel, I mean I hitch a ride. And if my vessel dies, I replace them, if only for a few hours.'
A dark smirk charmed her face, 'Unless you're already dead, then I can truly take your place. No one knows you exist, no one loves you. At least, Dean loves me back. So, if I were to kill you now, and wipe your existence from this planet completely - no one would know. And I'd be you. Do you really want that?'
Silence ensued.
Perhaps the adrenaline took over; you struck your leg in a brilliant swipe that took her off balance. You launched with the weight of your body into a sprint.
You didn't know who you were kidding. You were no match for her speed even if you had a good head start.
She tackled you to the ground within seconds, rolling the two of you on the grass, fallen leaves and crunchy branches under your body. Her far more agile instincts landed several blows to your face before you could understand what was happening. Black dots invaded your vision and fear choked you, your heart strained under overexertion.
What you did next was entirely instinctual.
You channelled the supernatural within you, letting your magic emanate from your finger pads which you pressed to her forehead, diminishing her barriers between her dreams and her wakefulness. Her nightmares became her reality. Her eyes rolled back into her head as yours started bleeding; she fell atop you like lead weight.
You whimpered in relief, thrusting her body away as you scrambled back, then you wiped your blood from your face. Your body sagged with exhaustion.
You'd done it, you'd defeated her . . .
But nothing made any sense.
She'd had so many chances to kill you - so many times in the last week when you were sleeping under her protection when she could have wiped you off the face of the Earth, but she didn't.
Was there more to the story than she was letting on?
Either way, you thought.
You stood, dusted yourself off. Hesitated.
You were a hunter for God's sakes, you couldn't leave someone to die . . . Could you?
She just tried to kill you!
. . . Maybe . . .
Or maybe you assumed that she did.
It bothered you a great deal.
You didn't know why it troubled you to leave her for the dead - the wolves would catch up and finish her off for you.
Then, an image of Dean flashed in your mind, and her words - Dean did love her. Not you, her.
Would he be heartbroken if she was gone?
So many heartbreaks plagued you . . . but they didn't have to plague him.
Cussing yourself out, you did the one thing that you could for her: you prayed to Cas.
'Castiel, angel of the Lord, blah, blah, blah, Y/N 2.0 speaking. Y/N 1.0 told me you were around, she's stuck her in darkest nightmare, you can rouse her with your angel-hoo. Raise her from the perdition or whatever else that helps your self-esteem. 2.0 out,' You saluted to an empty audience.
Good enough, you praised yourself.
You drew the line on waiting for Cas. You did your part - you tried to save her life like a good samaritan; you tried, and that was more than you expected from yourself.
Your Mommy would be proud. Moving on.
Now you just had to figure out how to not unalive.
You had a new begrudging appreciation for your English counter-part when you had failed to go a day without evading capture. This was the second time during your existence in Purgatory when you'd been captivated by a group of monsters. At least the first time you were relatively safe.
Now that you had managed to sabotage even that contact, you were bound and gagged inside a tree trunk of all places, under a strict gaze of the rotating schedule of fairy guards. There weren't many left, apparently. If you'd heard correctly from their heated discussions on whether to keep you alive or not, your face-thief was to thank for that development in their population.
You wondered if they'd been on the Earth long enough to heed to a classic quote: Enemy of my enemy is my friend. You hoped they'd listen to you pitch that angle before they decided you weren't worth their time.
Your eyes noted as another shift of fairies came to take place of the previous batch. You sighed through your nose again, straining your rope bindings again. It was useless. The first few hours you had twisted your hands till your skin shredded into raw wounds. Now, it was itching endlessly.
And that wasn't even what hurt the most on your body. You were on your knees currently and the pebbles dug into your caps. The wet gag was so tight around your face and hair, that it pained your jaw - to the point that when you went to close your mouth to stop the drool, you flinched.
Next were your thighs; all the muscles in your legs screamed to be sitting in the same position for so long. Begging for release - but the trunk they had stuffed you in was too small in width for you to even wiggle properly.
Then, it was your arms; your hands and upper body muscles throbbed from being pointed backwards.
All you wanted to do was stand up and stretch, and probably kick a few miniature asses with your big hunting boots.
You did none of that.
Your body grew weaker and weaker, grew more numb. Soon, your fatigued body fell back against the bark and you were called into the deep recesses of your mind. Alas, the numbness didn't extend to your dreams and emotions as you were popped into another nightmarish love tragedy.
You had several reasons to curse your fate when you woke up. For one, you woke up in a hammock hundreds of feet in the air, with no soft landings.
So, once the nightmare had decided to free you from its clutches and you woke up with incidence, you were already turning in your makeshift bed, ready to fall right into Death's arms.
But that wasn't the worst part.
It was the person who caught you.
Lo and behold, Dean Winchester became your savior.
You had yelped, but then your right wrist had slapped against his right palm. He risked his own safety to hold onto you. He hung from another hammock that seemed to have been stationed one foot adjacent to yours onto the friendly neighborhood branch.
Your body wiggled in the air, mostly in fear, and whimpers started escaping you whenever you looked down, his palm growing sweatier the more he held on.
'You need to stop wiggling,' he grinded out, looking down at you; and your eyes locked for the first time with your "soulmate".
He was as gorgeous as ever, you had to admit. He had forest fire eyes; treacherous golden amongst the loyal green. He could cut angles with that jaw, and a light stubble that aided his wild look. He was wearing a worn-out leather jacket, layers of flannel underneath, and a pair of washed-out jeans, but in your eyes, you only saw a Greek God.
Gods scared you.
'You need to climb up,' his voice was strained, and then you realized you had gone limp in his grip.
You reverted back to your senses with full panic. 'I-I don't know how to climb! Or get down!'
'Yeah, right!' he scoffed. 'This is no time to joke, Y/N!'
'I'm serious!'
His brows furrowed. 'What the fuck happened to your—?'
You yelled again as his grip on you faltered for the minutest of seconds and you almost slipped from his hold. His muscles flexed as he corrected it.
'You see that ledge,' he nodded near your feet and you just about pulled him down with you trying to look at where his gaze had landed. 'Foothold.'
'You're kidding me!'
'We don't have all day here!'
Your fingers were already slipping, your palms had grown sweaty and you didn't want to find out the limitations of your face-thief's special Purgatory healing concoction right now.
'Don't let me fall,' you whispered, letting your vulnerability slide into your gaze when you locked your irises with his.
His eyes smothered all your doubts: 'Never.'
You raised your palm to his jacket-clad forearm and leaned your bodyweight into it as much as you could, while strengthening your core to bend your body sideways until your feet reached the bark of the tree.
Nausea climbed up your throat when your eyes noticed the ground; hundreds of feet between you and your demise. You exhaled sharply, and used Dean's hand to push yourself backward till your back was pressed against the bark.
'Okay, what now?' you wondered in a rather high-pitched voice.
'You see that part of wood jutting out?' he nodded with his chin above your head. You noticed that it was at least one and a half meters away - just out of your reach.
'You're gonna hold that, flip one-eighty after letting me go and then—'
'Dude. Not everyone is a born giant!'
'Dammit, Y/N! I'm holding on by a thread here - literally!'
'Fine, fine! If I die, it's your fault!'
'Just do it, goddammit!'
Steeling yourself, you stretched all your muscles and tendons till you felt like you were being pulled on a Procrustean bed. You failed more than once, but Dean didn't complain anymore as he waited patiently for you to approach safety.
Seventeenth time was the charm.
You grunted, and whimpered as you felt the burn in your body at being stretched in such a weird position.
'Okay, good. Don't leave that at any cost. You need to whirl one-eighty now . . . you can do this, sweetheart.'
'Don't call me that!' you snapped. squeezing his free hand that was still in your empty one.
He scoffed, though you wondered if you were imagining the hurt.
'Look, just - when you turn, I need you to push off the foothold with as much force as you can. A'ight? You will need a little altitude to reach the hammock strings!'
'Okay. Jump. One-eighty. Hammock. Okay!' you swallowed. Trepidation infiltrated your body, and a lance of adrenaline went through you.
In a leap of un-faith, you let your foot slip and body twirl mid-air. You yelped for the jarring sensation, but you pulled with all your might to give you an upward momentum.
You missed the ropes by an inch.
As a scream escaped your lips, Dean acted fast, lending a placating hand on the small of your back that roughly pushed you towards the tree bark, and you scampered to scrape your feet against the woody surface till you had managed another boost, and you grasped the ropes!
'I reached! I reached!'
'Do you want a trophy?! Climb up!'
You huffed, and moved out of his reach into the warm and cocooning embrace of the hammock. Dean parroted your action into the opposite hammock, and sighed loudly.
The skin on his left hand looked raw and scraped with rope burns, almost to the point of blistering. You felt guilt trickle into your heart.
The gratefulness flooded.
'Thanks,' you breathed out.
You wondered about his intentions of saving you and how much the English woman had told him.
Did he know that your face-thief can replace you, but he saved you anyway? You would ask, but if he didn't know, you weren't gonna be the one to break that news to him like an axe to your foot.
All this speculating, and you didn't even know if he knew that you were his real soulmate.
'Sure,' he muttered, breathing deeply as if to calm himself.
'What happened to the fairies? Where are we?'
He frowned deeply, glancing about. 'I don't know.'
Your eyes bulged, 'What do you mean you don't know?'
There was a thread of irritation in his expression. 'I don't even know who you are.'
You scoffed, 'Then why did you save me!?'
'I wasn't thinking! One sec, I was thrown into a fucking tree, and the next I know you're falling off the damn hammock, like some cheap American knockoff of the woman I—' he cut himself off abruptly, averting his gaze losing a furious battle against the fifty shades of red.
I'm so stupid!
'Of course!' you breathed out. 'This is a dream!'
He assessed you inquisitively. 'Excuse me?'
'I just assumed that after those three Hellsites,' you referred to the three different Universes you'd just paid visits to, 'I thought I was waking up!'
'What are you talking about?'
'Well, I just didn't expect to be part of a scene!' you gestured between the two of you. 'I'm not usually with a Dean in my dreams - there's always a face-thief.'
He blinked at you.
You held up an index finger, and concentrated with your eyes closed. You tugged the strings of your imagination and merged it with your dream reality until the air around you was shifting, and Dean gasped.
When you could see again, you two were in a quaint cabin, far away from the unreliable hammocks. You shuddered once more when you remembered the height, and decided to address the confused man in the room.
'How'd you do that?' an edge of distrust spilled into the flow of his grittily smooth voice; like crunchy peanut-butter.
You knew you couldn't tell him the truth - he'd kill you. It was his dream after all.
Even as a dreamwalker, you'd never murdered anyone in your sleep - which was a possibility, you just never saw why you'd need to exercise it - especially when most of your dreams weren't really dreams but mere reflections of other worlds. No one could see you in other Universes.
In your Universe, all bets were off though. This is uncharted territory . . .
'I'm . . .' you desperately looked for a good introduction, but the whole of the English language seemed to have wiped from your brain. 'Oh, fuck,' you sighed. Before you could even begin to piece together an explanation, a knock sounded on the door, much to your shock.
'Who's that?' Dean sharpened his tone, looking at you with accusing suspicion.
'Dude, I know you worship this face, but news flash - no Y/N's got all the answers for you.'
The door was pushed in before either of you could acknowledge whoever had blissfully interrupted your awkward conversation.
You bit your lip when the replica of your face popped in.
Your face-thief grinned good-naturedly. 'Ah, figured you might be here,' she said with all the glory to her accent.
Dean's jaw dropped a bit, looking as shocked as a Winchester could possibly be with all they'd seen in their bizarro lifestyle.
'You're alive,' you leveled a dry look on her.
'So are you,' she countered with the same unimpressed gaze.
'How're you here?'
'Oh, darlin', this ain't my first rodeo. They taught us to use African Dream Roots when we were barely out of elementary school. After I woke up from the magically-induced sleep, I thought, what better way to find you than this?' Before you could strap on your sassy mouth, she turned her eyes to her lover, 'For the record, this was not how I was planning to tell you that your soulmate is here to rescue you.'
'Yes,' you sarcastically added. 'Moi, a tall glass of Americano, handmade for you.'
'She's a bit self-obsessed. Nothing you can't work on.'
'What the fuck is going on?!' Dean roared.
You shrunk a little, your copycat was unfazed. She gripped your wrist - you hadn't realised she had gotten so close to you - and pulled you towards the door.
'Sorry, darlin',' she jerked you into the outside world. 'Gotta borrow her for now. Will explain everything later.' The door shut in Dean's face.
White light color-penciled your visions. You groaned when you could see again.
'What's with you two and hammocks!'
Your companion sniggered. 'Chill. I figured you'd have a penchant for falling off of them so I brought us into a treehouse - even though we technically cannot die since this is a dream.'
'Hey!' you raised a finger. 'Have some respect for the dreams, dude. It comes from the darkest parts of ourselves - what you don't know can kill you!'
She chuckled again, 'Like the dream spell you put me under?'
You crossed your arms. 'I thought you were going to kill me.'
She mock-gasped. 'You don't trust me?'
'Oh, trust is oozing out of my pores - sweating it like bullets; why haven't you killed me?' you deadpanned.
'You saved my life by calling Cas. I can spare yours. Even-Steven,' she answered good-naturedly.
'I put you in danger!'
She hummed. 'Yeah, that was unpleasant. But I forgive you. Plus, we girls ought to stick together for Dean's sake, right?'
'You're a nut case! You just blew our cover by telling him that there's two of us! It won't take long for him to know that only one of us is going back.'
'Yeah, that was the ideal plan,' she sighed. 'But I have a back-up. So, don't you worry.'
You looked at your self-proclaimed saviour incredulously.
'You don't want to be saved, do you?'
The truth was just out of your reach - you could see it prowling in her identical e/c orbs behind a thin veil of smugness that only comes from being a messiah. When you looked closer, you could also read the darkness around the edges. A darkness that burned her up from the inside out; one that swallows a person whole; one that you were too familiar with. The worst kind of darkness to be seen in humans. The one that came when you hate yourself.
Perhaps, the only difference between you two was that hers was beyond repair and she hid it behind self-sabotage, while you hid behind arrogance and hollow self-entitlement.
'I want to be,' she amended softly. 'But no one here can save me.'
Your chest spasmed with pain.
She shot your fallen face a wan smile. 'I'm sorry for making you believe that I was going to kill you.'
'No, you're not!'
'No, I'm not,' she muttered in gleeful satisfaction. 'But I know what the pain of losing a soulmate is, I would never bestow such a fate upon Dean.'
'He doesn't know me. He doesn't care!'
Why were you doing this again? She was giving you a freaking hall pass! Your ticket out of here. Why the heck were you questioning that?
'That's where you're wrong,' she nodded. 'Y/N, you've seen death and destruction in our lives, but did you not see that there was nothing to destroy before.'
You squinted at her, 'Come again in English?'
She chuckled a bit. 'Let it be, you won't understand.'
'Humour me,' you were somewhat desperate to understand just why someone would ruin their lives for this!
Love was overrated . . . wasn't it?
She struggled to string a good enough sentence until you saw the bulb go off in her head. You disliked the grin that grew on her face, and even more the tears that began to shine in her orbs.
'It's simple: My Dean Winchester is my soulmate because he was somehow the beginning and the end of me.' You smiled: 'And only he can save me.'
You knew she meant it, she believed it, she lived by it.
You couldn't help yourself when you blurted, 'That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard.'
'Told you: you wouldn't understand. Not until it happens to you, darling.'
You were about to offer an abhorrent platitude, with a side of denial and irritation when the treehouse shook around you.
'What's happening?' she leapt out of her hammock, prepared for a fight.
Your brows furrowed. 'I'm waking up. When you took me, you pulled me out of Dean's head who'd been sleeping or had been knocked unconscious. You pulled me back into my own head. Although you are only a temporary dream-traveller because of the Roots you took, you cannot be the host for my dreams.'
She frowned. 'Look, I wanted to talk to you because this may be the last time, and I want you to know that no matter what happened, and no matter what happens - I'm coming for you, Y/N.'
The world faded into nothing.
Pissed didn't even begin to cover the areas of your mind the rage had reached. You were planning and plotting fantastical murders. You were cursing and harking on anyone courageous enough to remain in your vicinity.
First of all, there was the constant headache. The pounding, hammers and nails against your skull; a side-effect of recovering from your personal Hell, if you will. You honestly don't remember much after you woke up. Nothing from your past that you didn't want to remember came to you. All you knew was that the American had put you to sleep, and Castiel had roused you.
You had decided to reach out to your doppelganger, the only way you knew that wouldn't freak her out. A place where she'd be comfortable enough for a chat with you, without feeling like she was under any threat. You vaguely remembered that part: only that somehow there was Dean, and something had gone seriously wrong during the endtail of your talk with the other Y/N.
Kan-fir (Cas had flown you off to the Dwarves' lair) had been happy to enlighten you that while you'd been a sleeping beauty, your look-alike had been kidnapped by the fairies, Dean had tried to save her thinking it was you, and failed, and now the American had been shipped off to Leviathans. You hadn't known any of that while you were sleeping.
You couldn't believe that she slipped from your fingers. You blamed yourself for her capture. You hadn't meant to scare her, but you did. She deserved to feel your wrath, if only for a second, you won't deny that - she really hurt you but you wouldn't kill her!
Whatever you said was true, yet, it wasn't enough to work. Even if you did replace her after killing her, which would honestly be too easy - and too good to be true - you couldn't truly replace her.
She'd always be the American Dean's true soulmate. Just like your Dean would be yours and only yours, and you would be his. You couldn't deny that even when you had American Dean with you, it had felt like a betrayal to your Dean. You were never complete with this one, never a whole like you had been with your Dean.
You guessed that just his presence in your life again was enough sustenance to ignore the ever-present void. If you could fool your heart and soul for even a second in the twenty-four hours that you had to survive - then even that was enough. Just that second of distraction had been allowing you to breathe before you were drowning again.
But how many days were you willing to waste for a meagre serving of those seconds?
It wasn't fair to Dean. Stringing him along like that when you couldn't give him your heart.
This Dean was a close second, but he was still a second to you. And he deserved everything best. He deserved a girl, a soulmate, and their undivided love. Their unbroken heart. Their untarnished memories. He should have someone who'd fight for him till the last breath. He deserved someone who'd love him for him, not because he was a good substitute.
And the thing was that no matter how much the monster Y/N resisted, no matter how much she evaded falling in love with him, no matter if she didn't care for him - you knew she'd do it all one day.
If there was a betting pool, you were going to put all your money on her.
Soulmates is no joke.
And it doesn't really matter if it ends good or bad - no one knows what's going to happen to that relationship. Nevertheless, it's going to start. It's going to commence, and it's going to flourish at one point. Then, the endings will differ.
Although you did hope that this one relationship was happier than the thousand other ones the American had seen fail. Probably you hoped that because you had met them both in person. More than once: now, and that one time when the past-you had met the future-them.
'We're here,' Castiel's grave tone calmed your turbulent thoughts till you were as calm as a hunter ready to jump their monster.
A path through the woods, scattered ashes, trail of blood, faint conversation. It was a site of a recent monster slaughtering - and the blood indicated a human. The only human in the Purgatory other than you was Dean.
'Are you sure you want to do this?' Castiel wasn't so sure himself.
'Do I have a choice?'
'He's going to be mad.'
'Any tips on how to handle him mad? I'm told you're pretty experienced.'
He side-eyed you, his resentment towards your uncalled for jab visible. 'Try to not make him angrier.'
You scoffed. 'Yeah. That's gonna happen.'
'Try.'
You walked ahead instead of responding.
Soon, they came in your sights. Bickering like an old married couple. Dean just had that Alpha, protector of the family vibe that automatically made him the impatient, arrogant, reserved but a caring husband of any duo he chose to be a part of. Everyone else in his presence automatically became that sassy wife who was done with his shit - it was rare to see the roles reversed.
Benny tensed as you assumed Castiel came on his radar.
You knew that he could sense humans too. But you were technically a defect piece. Not really a human of this world that gave you a weird stench which even actually faded into the surround smells of Purgatory. While Dean was still fresh meat, and originally from the planet of this respective Purgatory. His smell was too overpowering not to guise yours. A tidbit you'd earned as a courtesy of the Dwarves.
Benny turned, taking Dean's gaze with the twist of his body. The latter's mouth dropped, and his green eyes glimmered with a new surge of hope and excitement. His wound forgotten, he sprang to his feet, almost butting Benny who had been hovering over the older Winchester, and he rushed at you.
Before long, you were sealed into his warm and much welcomed embrace. His face nuzzled your hair affectionately before it took residence in the crook of your neck; his hot breath fanning your neck as he pulled you in tighter.
'You're okay,' he whispered to you, pressing a small kiss to the joining point of your neck and shoulders, 'you're okay, sweetheart.'
No, I'm not.
You patted his back, somewhat awkwardly, because you didn't feel as excited as he seemed to be.
'We thought the fairies whisked you away for good,' Benny commented.
Dean pulled away, blissfully unaware of your conflict. His grin wavered for a second, 'You scared me, sweetheart.'
Silence stunted your verbal facilities.
'Dean,' Castiel's low baritone saved you.
The blond-haired man noticed, for the first time, his best friend's presence, with an exclamation of the blue-eyed man's name, he was rushing to treat your partner-in-crime the same as you - with a relieved hug and nothing but a childlike exuberance.
Your e/c orbs fell to the last man standing, and they narrowed. Mutual distrust was communicated both ways in that one look. You knew what your problem with him was - he was an accomplice to the death of the love of your life.
What was his problem?
'Where have you two been?' Dean's question beat yours.
Castiel exchanged a fleeting look with you.
Dean missed it, 'We've been looking all over for you two! Then, a ghoul told me you'd been captured - and . . . I had a weird dream.' His lip wobbled, 'I thought . . . when I woke up, I thought the fairies must have taken you to the Leviathans because of their ties . . . .'
'We know,' you shrugged.
Anger danced across his features as his exhilaration quickly evaporated. 'Why did you leave in the first place, Y/N?' his brows furrowed.
'I need your help.'
Surprise flashed, then hurt creeped in. 'Is that why you're here? You needed my help?'
Castiel shot you a look: You've hurt him!
You rolled your eyes at him: Didn't make him angrier, did I?
Castiel seemed done with you.
You addressed Dean. 'I don't need it. But manpower would be appreciated.'
'Oh, yeah?' Dean spat out. 'Then, why didn't you go to your precious Dwarves?'
'They refused to help me.' Technically, they refused to help the dreamwalker - "potato", "po-tah-to", you figured.
'So, let me get this straight,' he stepped towards you, 'you run out on me when I need you,' another step, 'avoid me for months,' closer with each accusation, 'refuse to give me an explanation when I'm warding off all the monsters,' three feet, 'when all I want is to get us to safety,' two feet, 'and you show up like all that didn't mean anything to you,' he stopped in front of you, 'asking for my help?'
You maintained the eye contact, 'You could've just left.'
'I'm sorry, sweetheart,' venom dribbled, 'I don't leave the people I care about behind.'
You grimaced.
Your Dean's dead body and the battleground flashed into your mind's eye . . .
Go, darling.
I'm not leaving you, you'd cried.
Lara needs you, he'd said. Go save the world . . .
You did leave him behind.
You knew this Dean didn't mean your ex-fiancé when he said what he did; he meant himself. But you weren't leaving this Dean behind - you were saving him.
'Exactly,' you played into him. 'You'd want to help.'
Curiosity ruffled the forest of his eyes.
Interruption, 'We're not taking another detour.'
It was Benjamin this time. Your nerves were already grated because of him. You may have forgiven Castiel to some extent, but this Benny was still a sore spot. Truthfully, you were surprised that you hadn't jumped him and turned him to ash by now; probably the influence of your frenemy Castiel.
'I don't remember asking you,' you gritted without so much as turning your head at him.
'You can't be serious!' the Cajun groused. 'Chief, tell me you're not thinking about this. It's taken us months to reach here - find just the two of them. Do you really want to spend God knows how long trying to save God knows who while the Leviathans are God knows where.'
You circled on your heels, calculating his profile. 'It's a good thing then I have the address of the person and a plan, right?' You weren't really asking.
'Who is it?' Dean finally bit.
Do you give him a heads-up and let him be accustomed to the fact that his bratty soulmate had begrudgingly and forcibly come to save his life? Or do you let him try to guess and have a few moments more with him where he isn't looking at you weirdly?
No, you can't let yourself indulge in his warmth.
You replied with your resolution. 'The girl of your dreams.'
Dean scowled deeper. 'That really happened? She's real? She's really here to save me?'
'What am I missing?'
Castiel was the one who replied this time. 'The fairies really did take away someone . . . it just wasn't this Y/N.'
'There's more than one?' Benny inquired.
'She's Dean true soulmate. And she's here to save him,' you stated, squaring your shoulders.
'Fat lotta saving that Y/N's doing,' Benny huffed.
'How'd she even get here?'
'She died,' Castiel simply told before you could make something up.
'She's a monster?'
You winced, bit your lip as you bulldozed a glare good enough to kill at Cas, your frayed nerves bustling with electric anger. Castiel just opened and closed his mouth, an apology stitched into his deep blues.
'Isn't there a theory that two doppelgangers cannot live on the same planet?' Benny mused out loud.
Oh, fuck!
Dean's eyes snapped to yours in shock. 'Did you know about that?'
'Um,' you stepped back, laughing a little nervously, raising your hands in defence. 'You know what? This was a mistake—'
'You've been planning all along to not come, haven't you?' he accused. 'That's why you left!'
You looked away, jaw clenched.
'How could you do this to me?'
'Dean—'
Castiel was rudely cut off when a huge projectile crashed into him and he tumbled into the dry leaves with a boom.
The projectile grew in shape, opening its wide maw.
You realised your folly. You were standing too close to the recent battle-site.
'Leviathans,' you whispered.
A/N: Complicated, huh? I remember when I first wrote this chapter, lol . . . took me months to make it as less confusing as possible while keeping all the details in 😂🫠🙃.
Anyway, I'd like to apologize for delaying this by a day. I was sick, and in no condition to edit, heh.
I'm also very excited to bring you the next and last chapter of Purgatory coming week, hehe. Stay tuned and stay safe!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Pairing: American Dean Winchester X English Y/N L/N; American Dean Winchester X American Y/N L/N.
Blurb: Purgatory suits you, to be honest. Plenty of distractions to choose from, you can kill as many as to your heart's content. And your heart is one insatiable bastard—it'll do anything to keep the memories of your ex away. Until a face much similar to his struts up into your territory, looking for you, promising you a home you lost too long ago. Your heart melted once before, do you think you would be able to risk it all again for the same criminally handsome face?
Warnings/Trigger Warnings (18+): Supernatural Wars spoilers, major and minor character deaths, mentions of previous major character deaths, violence, gore, tons of angst, (sort of, but not really) love triangle, language, self-sacrifices (not exactly suicide), betrayals, etc.
Note: This was written four years ago and English is my second language - I've tried to edit without losing the past-me's "authenticity", but let's face it, spellings ain't my strong suit, and even Grammerly gave up, soooo all the mistakes are mine 🙂🙃.
{ Series Masterlist ; Main Masterlist }
Purgatory Series: Last Part (8).
Castiel tumbled into the dry leaves with a boom. The projectile grew in shape, opening it's wide mouth.
'Leviathans,' you whispered.
Your weapon was slung off your shoulder and an arrow was shot to behead the creature in seconds. Your back had been unprotected, allowing a Levithan to get the jump on you. Seamlessly, Dean was to your rescue, and his sword invaded the monster's chest cavity, pulling upwards so the thing would be in a literal half. By the time you got your feet, your group of four had been cornered by an army of ten.
Huh, well, fuck.
The four of you ripped away from the tight circle in four cardinal directions.
West was yours.
The first one went down easy: a kick to his special place, and a lodging of your arrow into his neck. The weapon was laden with Borax.
Although when you turned, you were turning into a punch. She kicked you down and then kicked you while you were down. Until you grabbed her hard kick, and rotated your back on the forest floor so your legs could sweep her off the one sturdy foot on the ground. With her right leg still in your hand, you straddled her other one. You stretched the right one near her ear, making her yell in strain, then you stabbed it with an arrow that went through her stretched leg and her nose till it was lodged into the ground - effectively pinning her there in a very awkward position. You didn't stick around to admire your work; another arrow was out and ready.
This dance went on for a while.
Benny had always admired Dean's fighting prowess, but seeing you, he was more than a little awed. It was like you were dancing, something choreographed into your every cell was pouring out of you like music. But you didn't utter a single sound, no grunt, or a yelp, no sound of an effort made. He doesn't think Castiel or Dean noticed, perhaps because they were used to you, but you slew the most Leviathans.
The idea of you being captured by the small fairies seemed funny to him now. He should've known you were a greater force than all that made this Purgatory. You weren't just a human, you might just be the destroyer of this very no man's land. For the first time, Benny was glad Dean was your friend, and he forced the tingles of fear to roll down his back.
Castiel was playing with their minds by flying around, he didn't have a weapon, so he was just waiting for you to reach the subjects of his mind games. At least, Dean had dipped his and Benny's weapons in Borax while you'd been away.
This little fight in the small pocket of Purgatory could be described as self-preservation at its best. And this fight would give you all an hour of repose before the war began.
With the last monster cut, you took the lead back to the camp à la Dwarves - you did realise that you might be leading the war to them.
However, nothing mattered more than getting Dean to safety. You would be damned if you had something go wrong when you could see the finish line.
When you noticed the marks laden on the trees, you produced a whistle (shaped like a bird, and you blew into its tail) they'd given you in case of emergencies; and not a second passed after the first chirp that long vines were thrown down. They all had little footholds on the bottom, much like the ones during horse-riding.
You pushed Dean before you, then Benny. To quell Dean's incoming protests, you clawed the tree bark and raced beyond them, climbing like a monkey, much faster than the Dwarves could pull anyone up. To save time, Castiel also flew.
As soon as you'd slapped a hand onto the first flat surface, you saw Kan-fir's face looming; leaving just enough space to let you haul up and sit on the edge.
'War?'
You were panting; your heart beating out of proportion and the lances of fear that jerked through your nervous system. But you'd never been scared for yourself, not since his death.
'War.'
His expression transformed into a Leader's, much like you used to once upon a time. He signaled to the side, causing alarms, not unlike your whistle, just amplified, to blow throughout as far as you could see was Purgatory's horizon.
The small crowd of the little ones that had gathered around dispersed to arm up. You touched Kan-fir's shoulder to stop him a second.
'The portal?'
'Open,' he assured. 'It closed not with alarms, but with him gone,' he pointed at Dean.
Guess that made sense. The portal was directly linked to the man that belonged to said Purgatory's Earth. No wonder it never seemed to splice the time and space continuum for the likes of you.
Kan-fir hurried away to finalise the last few battle strategies. After all, the alarms had just signified a war between the Leviathans and the Dwarves. The Purgatory would be going into lockdown within the next hour, and it would be an all-out massacre.
From what you'd known, the rest of the creatures of the land had been forced to divide between the two armies.
Back when the Leviathans had been A.W.O.L. to Earth, the monsters had lived pretty peacefully - you'd seen this treeland heave a sigh of relief in their absence. But when they came back, the chaos had ensued once more. That's when the armies had started forming. Dwarves had advantaged themselves with a headstart while the Leviathans mourned their deaths on earth, and convinced a hefty amount of monsters that Leviathans had to be rid.
You didn't know how true it was, but Kan-fir said that many monsters had been reluctant to side with the Dwarves; they'd wanted to be anonymous and in hibernation when the war commenced. He said that they changed their minds when you picked a side. You'd been a bit bashful to hear it.
This was a time-old conflict, literally, it seemed as old as time. To think that the Dwarves credited you for bringing them resolution was more than a little flattering.
You felt like a soldier, a Leader again . . . Not some deserter who left her people to die . . .
You'd been raised into wars, but for the very first time, you were secretly enjoying the thrill of death that came with wars.
You'd run amok for seven years because you didn't have a purpose and it was your punishment for the way it ended with Dean.
This?
This is your redemption.
'Alright,' you clapped your hands for attention. 'Cas, do you think you can fly yourselves to the portal? Or near it. You've got about an hour now, before—'
'What about you?' Dean cut you off.
'Darlin', I've gotta stay and—'
'So, we stay, too.'
'I didn't sign up for that,' the vampire groused.
'Look, Ben—'
'No, Chief, this is not our fight. These are two larger entities that made each other extinct on Earth, way before the fucking dinosaurs - what do you think will happen when neither of them can die in Purgatory? They've been planning an Armageddon - why do you think some of us have been trying to get out of here forever?'
'I agree, Dean,' you couldn't believe you were, with Benny, but, 'The other monsters are going to end up being pawns in their revenge schemes.'
'And you think you're so special?' he scoffed. 'Look, I'm not leaving. End of story!'
You and Benny shared a long-suffering look.
'Fine,' Benny gritted out. '. . . We'll go ask what we gotta do.' He tapped Castiel on the shoulder, who hesitated.
'Dean, I hate to side with Y/N—'
'Then, don't!'
'Dean,' his voice strained the elder brother's name, 'Purgatory's not for you . . . think about Sam.'
He let that sink in. Then, they turned to leave.
'Reserve me some weapons,' Dean instructed as the boys left. 'And her, too.' He must've sensed that this conversation wasn't over.
'This is not what I want for you,' you tried.
'Ditto.'
'I'm not who you love, Dean,' you went for the jugular.
His jaw worked a muscle and he stepped closer in challenge. 'I beg to differ,' owning up to those feelings that either of you had never uttered.
You really didn't want to do this, but you squared, bracing for something you never thought you'd ever have to do. 'Dean, I don't love you,' you lied.
Dean didn't flinch - as if he'd always suspected it - even though you could see the hurt cleaved into his face; a pain that ran so deep, you felt it was cutting you. His eyes grew gloss, and you almost took it back.
Yet, you couldn't.
'I'm staying,' his voice was soft, as if he couldn't muster much energy to say it more determinedly. 'I go where you go,' he cleared his throat. 'And I'll . . . I'll leave you alone when you're out of here, okay? I swear. Just . . . just let me save you. Let me help you.'
Your eyes filled up on salt.
But he didn't cry, nor would you.
'Fine,' you rasped past the lump that was hurting your throat - it felt like it was in your windpipe, choking you.
'Fine.'
When your gazes locked, they were warring.
You both knew you'd try and weasel out, and you both knew he'd try and stop you. And you both also knew who would win . . . .
You'd never been so beaten in your life.
The Leviathans didn't leave an inch of your skin unbruised, not an organ untargeted, and not a tree in the one mile radius they hadn't pounded you against.
Being kidnapped sucked. You didn't think you'd make it out of here anymore. And you could then solve one of life's greater mysteries and find out where monsters went after they died in Purgatory.
Maybe they just ceased to exist?
You sobbed at that thought. A feeble, 'Stop,' escaped you.
'What?' snarled the woman. She gripped you by the hair and pulled your head back so she could speak near your lips. 'What'd you say, bitch?' she examined you from the corner of her eye; your face twisted and abused beyond recognition, 'Where are the Dwarves?'
'I don't know,' you cried out.
Your throat hurt from the rope burns and hand imprints from the multiple times they'd strangled you into the near vicinity of death. After taking you from the fairies, they discovered you weren't the human they sought for. But just because you had her face, they thought you also knew what her plan was.
'Yes—'
She paused while she slammed you into the ground - probably cracked another rib you didn't know you had - and let your head be submerged into the icy lapels of the river near which they'd chosen to torture information out of you. And you wanted to give it to them. You just didn't know what it was!
'—You do!' she completed when he pulled you back out.
The cold made you shudder and your wounds burn as if they'd been exposed to fire. It stung so bad . . .
'No,' you wept.
'I can't believe that you're holding out for those little bastards,' she spat in your face. She tugged your strands, and you whimpered. 'D'y'know how they'd tattle to Mommy? She got so pissed with us that she grounded us to this filthy craphole! She made us extinct! Said we couldn't leave until we apologised to each other . . . Like, we'd ever do that!' she scoffed, adding a slap to unload her misplaced anger.
She paused to contemplate you, admiring the myriad of "art" she'd left on your s/c skin. 'Tell me. Did you think you'd be getting out of here? I mean, really. What, you figured you'd hitch a ride on the human? And he'd let you? Do you believe in this soulmate crap?'
Soulmates sounded like such a sure thing. All the Deans you knew would save their soulmates; all those Deans would die for their soulmates.
Yet, you were an anomaly.
Your blood was stained with monstrosity, and Dean's was riven with righteousness. He couldn't love you, he wouldn't save you.
For once, the Leviathan was right. Why were you being such a damsel in distress?
You tried to kill me! you'd yelled.
Oh, honey, it's nothing personal. We just can't love a monster.
'Awww,' she smirked down at you. 'You look like a kicked puppy.' She traced a finger down from your head to your jaw. 'At least puppies are liked enough to be saved . . . No one's even coming for you.'
'You're right,' you said.
However, your lips were too swollen for her to understand you. She leaned in to listen better but your hand shot out to grip her neck. She laughed in your face with how faint your fingers were against her.
'Oh, you're cute enough that it's a pity I'm gonna eat you.'
'Is that a fear of yours?' you murmured feebly. 'Let's find out.'
Your other hand came to her head. With all the energy you'd left, and this newfound motivation, you tapped into your magic.
The cells in your body seemed to be gushing out to aid this outpour of fears and nightmares you were granting her as a parting gift. Before she could process the concept of it all, you were already into her head a good deal. And then, she was thrashing atop you, screaming and yelling for mercy.
Oh, how the tables have turned.
You were shocked when her eyes melted in her sockets and spilt down her cheeks like a sticky milkshake, while more black blood oozed from her nose and mouth.
You couldn't stop until she stopped screaming. And then she fell on your body, making you humph.
'Survival 101,' you rested your eyes as the worst ache of your life boomed into your headspace. Claret trickled down your cheeks, a warning ringing in your ears. 'Save yourself.'
Darkness adopted you.
Figures since darkness had been looking after you your whole life.
The tasks were divided to be conquered.
One sector was of Dwarves only, with arrows and spears for farther distances. The second and the third wave of Dwarves and/or monsters would attack and then encircle the Leviathans (so that their supplies, ammunitions, and back-up are all cut off), respectively. The fourth sector (of Dwarves alone) was supposed to lay low as back-up.
The fifth batch consisted of Dwarves who would protect their King, Kan-fir. The sixth group consisted of monsters who were assigned as medical first responders.
You headed the rescue mission.
It wasn't the original plan. You were supposed to use the weapon the Dwarves had been researching for a while, but now that they did find the weapon, it was something no one had expected.
The plan had to be . . . modified, so to speak.
'I don't know, Y/N,' Castiel was skittish about the said plan.
You flashed him an annoyed look. 'Are you bailing on me?' You didn't stop packing the Borax water balloons in your bag.
Rescuing Y/N might, at the very least, be interesting, and at its worst, tough. Most of the Leviathans would be out battling the second and third wave of your troops. They wouldn't be sparing manpower for a puny dreamwalker.
You were the real deal, as Kan-fir had put it.
After you assault the Leviathans guarding your doppelganger, then you'd have to worry about them coming after you.
I will have one hour, insisted your rationale. Yeah, one hour until her guards wake up and sound the alarm bells. One hour until they chase you. One hour to get everyone to safety. One hour to—
'I didn't say that.'
'Then, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my fiancé. Prepare to save,' you joked.
He gave you a bitch-face that would have put Sam Winchester's to shame.
'Geez, it's not like I asked you for your wings. Cough up a laugh!'
'That's not even the correct reference.' He seemed disappointed.
Your eyes narrowed, 'Dean was the T.V.-savvy, all right! Will you do it or not?'
'Dean won't be happy with this - we're deceiving him.'
'You would know - you've racked up quite the experience.'
'I've trusted the wrong people over him before Y/N. He won't forgive me.'
You glide past the fact that he called you "wrong", turning to finally face him. 'I trust you over Benny, Castiel. Will you or will you not divert Dean towards the portal?'
'He wants to take care of you,' Castiel persisted.
'I know - chivalry isn't dead or whatever. But Cas, we're running out of time! Kan-fir wants to end this, sooner than Dick figures out this complicated shit. There's one weapon, and the opportunity's only shown up now - do you feel me? I need to save her, and I need Dean to be out of Purgatory before the weapon implodes!'
'I understand your concerns. But Dean isn't a child - or a commodity you want delivered to Earth. Dean can handle himself.'
'Doesn't mean he should have to, Castiel,' you barked. 'I'm not his responsibility either - but here he is, isn't he? We both are running the same race. And I will win, with or without you. The Dwarves are so much more powerful than you, so it would do you good to side with me. Lest you want to be as blindsided as your precious best friend is.'
He took a pregnant pause to let the open threat sink in. '. . . I'm with you.'
'Good. Now, get Dean, and try not to screw up.'
Castiel moved to the door when there was a knock on it.
"I don't like this," was Benny's first response when you'd announced the plans of your wayward group of hunters.
Dean and Castiel, who had experience fighting side-by-side in battle, would head one of the factions, most probably the third one, and attack the Leviathans head on. You weren't saying you were too happy about Dean running head on into danger, but honestly, what was new?
Plus, your reprimands would be like a pot calling out to a kettle.
Besides, Castiel would make sure that halfway through the fight, anytime he sensed an overpowering bunch of those monsters were going to attack them, he would lead Dean astray by saying that sensed more assist was required in the opposite direction - and soon, he would be leading Dean down to the portal where you would converge with Y/N and Benny. The Dwarves found the exact location of the portal and gave it to Castiel. You just prayed Castiel didn't grow cold feet.
He was unhappy about lying to Dean, as you were about being paired up with Benny. The vamp wasn't your first choice; he became your only.
Benny and you had a better idea of how substantiated the forest was than either Dean or Castiel; which was putting aside the fact that a human from this Purgatory's planet, and an angel would attract just too many monsters. It would be like inviting the whole Leviathan population for a barbecue.
'This is not good,' the Cajun repeated under his breath.
You rolled your eyes and swung off to another tree, giving him a beat to follow. Your eyes scanned the area but nothing seemed off to you. You were deep into the territory of Leviathans. Deep like cold cuts in a freezer, ready to be blazed and eaten. It was pertinent that you both maintained silence.
A fact that Benny was trying his best to abide by.
But when you'd passed by a herd of battle-ready Centaurs, he had to remind you how stupid this endeavor might as well be.
Eighty-five percent of chance said the American version wasn't even alive anymore. You were running out of delusions to imagine that they'd simply placed her on a torture rack somewhere instead of turning her into a pile of ashes no one gave a fuck about.
Another half an hour passed, and the fewer Leviathans you saw, the more worried you were getting. It's a miracle you hadn't bitten off someone's (Benny's) head. The fewer monsters you saw here, the more had been sent off to the battle where Dean was. Already, a day had passed since the war commenced.
None of it was not good for your anxiety.
'I thought you had the address,' Benny prodded after a while.
You had to breathe deeply. 'Consider this a complex or a cluster of buildings. Forgive me if it's taking me time to reach the apartment - clever kidnappers tend to cover their fucking tracks.'
'Dwarves are supposed to be good at sniffing out that kinda shit.'
'This is the best lead we could've gotten.'
'We're wasting our time,' Benny complained.
'You didn't have to come with me!' you protested, turning on the tips of your toes, scratching the bark of the branch that you both were perched on like birds. 'You could've stayed back at camp, or gone with Dean like a good little bloodhound!'
Yes, you'd sought Dean for help. Yes, you realised that Benny would be more expendable than Dean. No, you were not about to tolerate his bitching and moaning.
He gave you an impatient look and if you didn't know any better, you could've sworn that Dean's soul had entered his body when he said: 'You didn't ask to be stuck with Dean or his soulmate either, but here you are risking your life for nothing.'
Did he just spew common sense? You were rusty, you'd lost yours a long while back.
'What's it to you?'
He rolled his eyes. 'Dean's like my brother. He would kill me if I left your reckless ass on line.'
Oh, so that was what this was about.
You sensed that Dean might've cornered Benny and ordered him to keep an eye on you while you lead point on your messed up way of salvation.
At least Benny's loyal.
'There,' Benny pointed.
At five o'clock, there was a body half-lying on the ground, and half in the stream. Had to be a monster; alive or sleeping.
Both of you swung over to the tree it was under. You leaned backward till your legs were bent at the knees, allowing you to hook yourself on the branch, upside-down, to get a closer look. It was something your Dean had taught you, the upside-down trick - to remove your fear of trees forever.
You didn't know if it was blood rushing down to your brain or actual nausea when you saw its face . . . Her face. Your face.
Patches of hair were pulled out, skin frayed in too many places. So much sanguine had already bled out that now it was verging on black - a medical omen of death.
You did an abdominal crunch, and came face to face with Benny again, who was holding your quiver.
'It's her.'
His brows furrowed. 'Why would they leave her alone?'
That was a good question.
This could be a trap, was communicated in one look.
'One way to find out,' you pursed your lips. 'Cover me?'
You made your descent without waiting for his response. You heard the slightest ruffle of leaves, in which Benny had slacked off to another tree for better visuals, while you steadily climbed down.
You stepped lightly on your feet next to the body. There were no signs of movement from her. You judged her face and wondered if Levithans could even replicate wounds when they take a face - because make-up products were definitely not a popular sale/purchase material down here - this couldn't be a Leviathan, right?
You untied one of your Borax water balloons, and gently poured it over her face. She didn't sizzle, but neither did she twitch.
You got worried, as you signaled Benny to get down there. You kneeled beside her, and unscrewed your bottle of the healing potion. You parted her lips by holding her face up with one hand under her jaw. Only a rivulet or two of the sewer-tasting liquid escaped her mouth.
'Will she live?' Benjamin questioned when he was near.
'Don't ask stupid questions.'
She had to live.
You kept pouring it down her gullet till the bruises on her lightened, and most of the scars mostly sealed up. The lost blood wasn't retrieved, but new would circulate in a while, maybe then she wouldn't appear as blanched. By the time the bottle was vacant, she was still terribly hurt, and showed no signs of regaining consciousness.
'We need more,' Benny observed, the same thing you did.
You sighed through your nose. 'Did you ever go to a gym, Benny?'
'If you're asking me to carry her while committing mediocre tree-hopping, you're gonna be disappointed.'
'Who said I'm asking?'
'You carry her.'
'You're not the only one who failed gym class, Benny.' You had a decent upper-body, but you couldn't carry another person like that - that was more Dean's thing; that strong, beautiful bastard. The man was frigging Hercules.
'What, the invincible Y/N L/N can't even pull her own weight?' he sassed, grinning about the pun he just made.
You made a sour face, 'I didn't like you before, but at least I didn't judge you. Besides, I'll have you know, I believe in quality over quantity.'
'If you're so smart, then get us out of here without the way of the trees,' he snapped.
You shot him a scathing look, wondering if you could threaten to leave his Cajun ass behind. Though, you feared if he would be just another person for Dean to stay back for. So, you took a breath of patience (a lot of it), and assessed your surroundings.
You still weren't sure why Y/N was alone, and if her guards were going to be back. You needed to transport faster. What could possibly be a better mode than the trees?
'Benny, you were a pirate, right?'
He looked at you uncertainly. 'Did I tell you that?'
He didn't have to. You'd been suspicious of it since so many other things of their world have been similar to yours.
Question for a question, 'Do you know the concept of upstate? Royalty?'
'What are you playing at?' he bit first.
'I'm playing Purgatory politics,' you explained. 'We're upstream. Upstate means elite. Leviathans think they're royalty.'
'You want to sail?' the incredulity made him take a step back to understand if you were in your right mind.
You shrugged. 'We row far enough, we reach the outcasts.'
'The Dwarves,' he pieced together. 'The currents are in our favour, but how will we go undetected?'
You didn't rectify him by saying that you were going to sail past the Dwarves, who were rebels of Purgatory at best, and you were going to sail to the outcasts, which was where the Portal existed - where the humans should be, the actual outcasts.
'We have enough Borax balloons to fight if it comes to that,' you theorized. 'Unless you're too scared.'
His ego wouldn't let him deny the risk you were asking him to take. 'What do you need?'
'Tree sap, bark, leaves,' you listed off with a winning smile. 'So many leaves.'
He ran a hand over his scratchy brown beard. 'I see regret in my future.'
'My old friend, tell her hi for me!' you said, sarcastically cheery.
He flipped you the bird.
You were underway in a sturdy makeshift boat by the end of the second hour. Surprisingly, and a relief it was, when no Leviathans showed up to check on your doppelganger. You could work with undivided attention, and stitched up a storm with an arrowhead you broke off.
The boat didn't have a very good shape. It was buoyant because of the woody base, it was connected through a leafy cover, and joined by gooey tree sap. The rows were just as misshapen, but workable. At least the surface was wide enough for one person to lie on, and two to stand or sit on. Both you and Benny were on opposite ends, rowing continuously, as fast as your energies would allow.
'Where did you learn to make this?' he enquired randomly.
You were immediately flashing back to your Earth. Voices floating in your mind: instructions. You blinked back the anger that was burgeoning, just thinking back to your "teacher".
'Angels had Heaven, the skies; Demons had Hell, the underground; Humans had Land, the surface; Monsters had the Seas. Pirates, everywhere, all monsters. And when you want to travel overseas, it's easier to pass through the Monsters' jurisdiction than it is the Angels'.
'Our world's "travel agent", Jack, hooked my mother for my travels. I met you when I was transferred to Europe.'
'You weren't born there?' he seemed surprised.
'My parents were Leaders. And when the Wars run as long as ours did, there's always nepotism. I was declared as a potential co-Leader of Europe after I was born. And for the authenticity of it, I had a British nanny. I was raised a European. But I got to go there only after I turned twenty-five - that's usually the year of a Leader's initiation.'
'And my clone took you there?'
You bit your lip, and practiced breathing for a while. You remember his promise of being an honorable monster, a man of his word. You'd never truly believed him, a reason why you couldn't hate this version too much.
It was Castiel who had betrayed you.
'I was a curious person,' you indulged.
"Was" being a keyword. You have felt curious or like a person in a long time.
'I'd never been near a boat in my entire life,' you shared. 'We made a deal: boat knowledge for an island we weren't using.'
'Were you that rich?' he asked in surprise.
'The richest,' you shrugged.
He hummed. 'Thought nothing bad ever happened to the rich,' he said, somewhat bitter.
'Money can't buy lives. Or loyalty. Or happiness. Not that I'd expect you to understand.'
A pause.
'There a reason why you hate me?' he finally acknowledged the elephant in the room.
'By the time of the concluding war, only the Alpha Vampire remained as a representative of your monster faction . . . you were his second-in-command.'
Lot of money in it, you added in your mind. Benny and The Bloody Princess' (his ship) background checks had only indicated a hand-to-mouth existence, thus, a sort-of ally to humans who could give them blood bags in exchange for transport . . .
All that while he'd been working directly for the Alpha, spying on the hunters and trafficking the innocent ones.
'You didn't know?' he guessed, based on the thickness of your voice.
'No.' You found resistance when you tried to swallow.
'Did I kill someone close to ya?' he put his hand on the money.
'Doesn't matter,' you shook your head. You cannot go there. 'You're saving someone close to me now. That's more important.'
'Why are you trusting me now?'
You smirked, the fool. 'You know what they say,' you said. 'Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice? . . . If I have to finish that sentence, Benny, consider it your eulogy.'
Both of you knew the resounding truth ringing behind that warning.
He steered you to another topic: 'Since we're bonding—'
'We're not.'
'—why are you saving her?'
'She's Dean soulm—'
'Cut the crap.'
Time to lay on the lies. 'What tipped you off?' you led him on.
'At first? Human carriers can have more than one monster through the portal, but the more monsters there are, the harder it is for the human to survive, and you wouldn't risk his life that way.'
That had been your plan. Your plan had been to train her in your accent and to familiarize her with the territory a bit till she could fool Dean enough. It was a long shot, but not impossible.
It wasn't until she actually died that you realized she had to travel under Dean's skin. Messed up your whole plan.
'He's . . . resilient,' you told Benny, keeping the charade up.
'Fine. But that couldn't be your current plan.' Benny was sharp, you noted. 'That would have been before he knew that only you or her can live on the planet. He won't let her travel willingly now. Not unless you go through the portal first. Before she does with him.'
You knew that. Dean believed in defying the multi-dimensional norms of the various Universes, and as admirable as it is, it sometimes pissed you off. Sometimes the goddamned universes are just more powerful.
'What are you doing with her, chéri?'
'Do you believe . . .' you purposely acted reluctant. 'Are you aware of how Leviathans can be killed once and for all?'
You heard the water on his side stop splashing for a second. 'Bedtime story. There's a single weapon that can kill the Dwarves or the Leviathans - one that kills the Leaders and erases the rest of their population. Not just them, works on every Leader. Once you eliminate the Leader, you kill every groupie under him, here, in Purgatory. But no one's ever seen or heard of it.'
You stop rowing for effect. 'She is it, Benny. We had the weapon when we had her.'
'. . . Do the Dwarves know?'
'They found out this morning, and told me. They made a new plan . . . in which the weapon dies alongside the Leviathans.'
'Damn.'
Tears burned your eyes. 'Indeed.'
You stood on the water's edge . . . No, wait. That was your face-thief. You were dreamwalking again. She looked pensive as she stared at the house in front of her - it resembled a gazebo out of a fairytale book. There was a book sinking slowly into the water, a disturbance to the place's idyllic nature.
There was something else that was off . . .
Then, you saw it. The edges were wilting as if this was an old chapter of an ongoing book. Usually, when you dreamwalked, your scenes were fresher, more present, but this seemed like you were visiting a memory of hers.
You'd rarely ever used this skill of yours. You usually could only tap into the memories of someone you'd sorta bonded with; it made you uncomfortable to know that the Brit was one of them.
In walked a tiny figure. A Dwarf, you noted - those miniature bastards. You recognised this one as Kan-fir.
'Sad.'
She stiffened before she turned to the perpetrator of the voice, she blinked at the air for a moment before her eyes were drawn way below to the King of the Dwarves.
'Oh, hey, cutie. Kan-fir sad?' she questioned, pronouncing his name with a silent "n".
He halted next to her. 'No. Y/N sad. Y/N sink journal about man human. Y/N miss Dean.'
She was rueful. 'Story of my life.'
You stepped closer to hear them better - you knew they couldn't see you, not unless your face-thief had initiated this meeting - which she didn't, because the color belonged to a past memory of hers.
'Go Dean.'
'I can't go to him!' she protested, fluent in understanding broken English. 'He deserves . . . He deserves to have someone who loves him for who he is.'
'You. Yes.'
She rolled her eyes. 'Did you get what I asked for?'
He sagely nodded. 'Cutie find Dean soulmate alive. Earth-living. Dreamwalker she, you right.'
'Oh, good, I can start visiting Y/Ns then. Did you get the African dream roots?'
He shook his head yes, before, 'Tip pro?'
'Yeah, tell me.'
'You kill soulmate, you live Dean. Back new Earth!'
Your habit of mistrusting people niggled in the back of your mind as the memory melded into another.
'Why do you prefer daylight?' she was asking.
'Dwarves and Leviathans: major-league, before BAN! Then, humans. Them force, monsters hide. Irony: biggest monster think broad daylight as possession. They control everything!' Kan-fir very passionately waved his pudgy hands for emphasis. 'We prefer daylight because we monstersbig.'
'Hmm,' she admitted, 'never thought of it that way. I must be a monster too, then, since humans preside over the daylight now. At least on Earths.'
'Never thought that way.'
You tried to stir towards the exit. You weren't comfortable seeing her memories like this - something you would never admit out loud.
However, you walked into a war room this time - the one where you'd first met the Brit Y/N in person, bound and gagged. You remembered because you'd both stayed there for a day before you left.
Y/N was pacing the room, looking stressed. 'Is it true?'
'We research,' Kan-fir said grimly. 'America right. She need be under Dean skin for exit Purgatory.'
You realised this must be on the day that you first met your face-thief. After you asked her how you both were gonna convince Dean to carry you . . . You'd left the Dwarves the same day.
'How did we not know this!?' she threw her hands in the air. '
Kan-fir huffed. 'Busy with war things.'
'Well, it would have been nice to know, Kan-fir!' she was almost scolding. 'There goes my plan to fool Dean into thinking she was me! We had an agreement—I fight war for you, and you help me save Dean!'
Kan-fir crossed his arms. 'Down tone. No like loud.'
She budged. 'I'm sorry. I'm just . . . how do we send her back? She's here. We brought her here.'
'Don't send. You go.'
Fear and anger oiled your heart into acceleration. This was twice now that Kan-fir had mentioned it . . . more importantly, has the Brit been lying to you all this time when she promised she would send you home? . . . She was a better person than that, right?
You decided to seek a memory that would prove her innocence . . . still, dread was settling in your stomach.
Another remembrance played.
A Dwarf burst in, 'Fairies kid-sleeped Y/N two!'
'What?' Y/N asked. 'Why would they kidnap her? We have got to get her back!'
Castiel put a hand on her shoulder to stop her in her hammock. 'You're still weak. You just woke up.'
'I don't care! Cee-cee, call Kan-fir. I'm going to need back-up.'
She shook her head. 'Kan-fir say no.'
'What?'
'Worth not. Like not,' she shrugged. 'You alone.'
'Oh, come on! We brought her into this mess!'
She shook her head vigorously then. 'You brought Y/N two, you brought mess. For stupid man human.'
'And according to our pact - you protect her!'
She pursed her lips. 'Protect man human. No soulmate. You contribute not more - so, we help not more. Buh-bye.'
She turned and left.
You scoffed, 'Can you believe them?'
Castiel was impassive. 'Dwarves look out for themselves first. Even if they're fond of someone.'
She clenched her jaw, 'I guess we enlist Dean's help, then.'
You made the memory fade into other.
'Are you sure?'
'Tested,' one of the Dwarves from the little group said, Kan-fir in their lead.
'Y/N two be weapon, Y/N,' Kan-fir interjected.
'How did you . . . ?' she looked appalled. 'You said you'd stop taking blood from us! Taking it from Dean to identify her soulmate was the last time.'
The Dwarves looked at each other, somewhat embarrassed.
A wise, old Dwarf took responsibility for explanation, 'Sav-ty steal when Sav-ty lift her.'
You recognized him as the Dwarf who kidnapped you.
'That's horrible.'
'She horrible!' a female protested this time. 'Curse Dwarf-folk out!'
'Oh, so you're being patriotic by giving an innocent a death-sentence!?' she scoffed. 'Is that why you asked us to leave for the week? Because you wanted to test on her blood? You never were going to find a way out for her, were you?!'
Your blood ran cold as the truth came to you. That's why she'd been dodging your questions, because she didn't know what to do with you, herself. She only kept you away from the Dwarves so they could find another way, or as they confessed, so they could test your blood.
And you'd managed to disrupt that entire chain of events of your victimization by attacking Y/N.
Was that why she'd been so forgiving? Because she was guilty of what the Dwarves had done behind your backs?
'Why defence her!' Kan-fir puffed his chest out. 'Y/N two put Y/N one in coma!'
'Then she called Castiel—'
'Nan-nan say,' a third one stepped up, 'Us know now - she weapon. Ultimate benefit - she here, so, Leviathan - fuck son bitch - die!'
'Oh, so, she wasn't worth saving from the fairies but now that you can use her as a weapon, you are willing to save her from the heart of your nemesis' lair?'
'You understand,' Cee-cee beamed.
'Kan-fir?' she almost looked as if she'd been betrayed.
He looked torn, 'Sorry. But side with Dwarf-folk.'
The muscles in her jaw worked. 'Fine, but then I'm not gonna be a part of your pettiness.'
She made to leave but Kan-fir stopped her by placing a tiny palm on her calf. His eyes had a certain hard glint to them. 'I know you. You go after Y/N two now, against our wish, because you nice . . . But Kan-fir order - let Dwarf-folk have her.'
'That's not how this is going to go down—'
'Or Dean die.'
She looked like she'd been slapped in her face. 'What, no! He's not a part of this! That's not in the pact! My participation in your stupid war for his protection whenever he needs it! I'm giving you what you want!'
'Pact renew,' Kan-fir firmly posted. 'Give Y/N two. Dean live.'
'This is wrong,' she gritted out.
Kan-fir frowned. 'Good for you! You go home when she die a weapon. Want you that not?'
Frustrated tears built in her eyes. '. . . I do want to go home . . . I can't believe I'm doing this . . .'
For some reason, it broke your heart - once again, you'd judged wrong. Once more, someone chose themselves over you. The realisation dawned on you that she'd been playing the long con all along.
The scene shifted.
Castiel spoke, '. . . I'm with you.'
'Good. Now, get Dean, and try not to screw up.'
Castiel moved to the door when there was a knock on it. He wrenched it open to see no one until he gazed down, near his feet. The Dwarf King trotted in with two arrows appearing as overlarge spears in his hands. One had a blue feather, and the other red.
'Here,' Kan-fir offered her both.
You turned a sharp gaze at Castiel and he took the hint to leave; he closed the door behind himself.
'Red for Y/N two.'
'That'll eviscerate her on the spot?' she grimaced.
He nodded.
'And . . . through the heart, right?' she enquired. 'It should soak in blood before we kill Dick with it.'
'You bitch,' you mumbled. 'I'm going to kill you.
He nodded again. Then, 'Take. Blue for Y/N one. With it, we wish good luck.'
She tentatively grabbed them, inserting them into her quiver.
Kan-fir lurked, shuffling on his feet. 'You mad?Kan-fir no longer Cutie because Y/N no like Cutie anymore.'
She paused her movements for the minutest seconds before she resumed zipping everything up. She slung the bags on her, shifting them till they let her have an ease in movements. If you had to guess, it was so that she could jump across trees.
'Not mad,' she responded.
He looked ashamed, 'I, true monster.'
'If every person who put family first is a monster, then I fell in love with two biggest ones. Then, I'm surrounded by monsters . . . and I'm one, too. Because I'll be sacrificing so much for my new . . . Let's call them family.'
'You'll be sacrificing me!' you roared to no avail.
'. . . So, you go home.'
'Yeah,' a grin spread on her face. 'That eases my pain a little. I finally go home.'
'You be missed.'
She crooked half a smile. 'Likewise, Kan-fir.'
'Sorry for everything,' he said with regret.
She kneeled to ruffle his hair. 'Hug me good luck?'
The Dwarf King smiled small.
They both embraced while you fumed.
You steered yourself once more through the unpredictable mind - but fucking finally, you navigated out of her brain - you saw the white light and you rushed towards it.
You awoke with a jolt, you thought - you didn't feel it, probably because you were hanging upside down and blood saturated your brain. You had to blink way too much to understand what was in front of you - you were looking at the back of a person's legs, your face leveling up to their lower back.
Your hands hung on either side of your head, and you felt woozy. Your body was jerking now and again by the quick, sharp steps that the person carrying you took.
He didn't seem to have realised that you were awake yet, too engrossed in a conversation. His chest vibrated as he spoke deeply and your legs were against it as he pinned you with a hand around the back of your knees; you were just a sack of potatoes for him.
' . . . can't believe you sunk the ship,' the words sharpened into focus.
'Did you want to be caught?'
You recognised that voice. You felt relief trek through you - knowing it wasn't the Leviathans - before betrayal raced against it, and reached all the corners of your body faster than the calmness could - it warmed the tips and fibres of your body.
You fought off the sting with entitlement.
'And what - the water creatures won't be after us? You should've burned it,' the accent was unfamiliar to you. But it did not sound like anyone you know . . . unless . . . there is a distant memory in your mind of someone with that voice . . .
'We weren't planning to stick around! And fire is just a bat signal. It's what you see in Purgatory before devils come running.'
'Just shut up - and tell me where the battle is.'
'Oh, we aren't going to the battle - we're going to the portal.'
The man stopped abruptly, your head smashed into the small of his back . . . What is he, a fucking wall?
You resisted consoling your poor smushed nose.
'Tell me you're fucking kidding, chéri.'
Benjamin Laffitte, it clicked into your head. The vampire.
You gogt to regulating your heartbeats immediately. As a vampire, he would sense if you were awakee and privy to their conversation if he concentrated.
'Nope. Castiel must already be there with Dean. Come on!'
'You lied to him?!' he briskly paced forth. 'And Castiel let you?'
'Let me?' she evaded the real question, 'Cas is like a baby. You bribe him, he does anything you want.'
'What did you give him?'
'Penance.'
'What—?'
A loud cluster of clomping cut him off. He reverted quickly to hide around a tree, banging your head against the bark in the process.
'Be careful!' Y/N hissed, her legs coming into your sight.
'Today is just not her day.'
Ya fucking think?
'How many?'
The legs bent to check from the other side. 'Five.'
'That's too many.'
'Why don't you be a good boy, and play hooky towards the stream down yonder while I—'
'Oh, I'm not falling for that - I'm not letting you out of my sight. We both fight.'
'Whatever, dude. Just don't get killed.' She made to leave before, before she retraced, 'On second thoughts, you have my blessing.' Then, she disappeared.
He huffed, 'I hate her.'
Benny dumped you on the ground without ceremony. You shut your eyes and relaxed. He propped you up as best as he could against the tree while you tried hard to appear limp. He hurried after the infamous woman.
You opened your eyes and blew out a breath. 'Me, too, pal.'
You straightened yourself, and took a peek around the immense circular stock (seriously, does no one in Purgatory get afraid thinking that a tree can fall on them?) to time your getaway.
The monster of today were Centaurs. Half-man, half-horse.
Y/N was using the hanging branches to gain leverage, shooting for the cardinal organs. Benny tried to backstab them while they were distracted, he was literally running round and round, making the horses chase their own tail until he pierced them with his weapon. The Centaurs were angrily braying, and even going on their hind legs in protestation.
Years of Purgatory had deteriorated their intelligence on a battleground. They were way too far, and way too engaged with the relatively new-age warriors to notice you.
You didn't know what you would do with your life now - but you certainly weren't going to die here all alone . . . You just needed time to think.
Yeah. Time to think. I can do that.
A smile grew, and you booked it stage left, feeling free.
Freedom comes with obstacles.
The first obstacle was the aches in your joints and bones. You weren't human but you got hurt like one - why, God, why?
You'd been walking upstream when you encountered the second one: a small troop of Dwarves.
Why must my obstacle course be this hard?
'Y/N one!' exclaimed the Dwarf in the lead. Two others flanked him, sharing his excitement.
You don't correct them. 'Well, 'ello, you!' even you didn't believe the phony British accent.
'Why you alone?'
Hope told you that for such intelligent creatures, linguistics wouldn't be where they singled you out.
Panicking, you said the first thing that came to your mind. 'Centaurs!' was a squeak.
Their brows furrowed.
You internally kicked yourself, and forced the posh obnoxious accent. 'Centaurs attacked, and I played . . . hooky,' you used a word you'd heard her use a while ago. 'Benny left with Y/N . . . two,' you added.
They accepted your answer. This was easy.
'Majesty ask: Where Y/N one say goodbye?'
'The portal,' you blurted.
If you took too long to reply, the ruse would lift. Y/N one knows what she's talking about, you don't. You can't afford the privilege to think.
They all shared confused pouts. 'Portal?' the lady-Dwarf, as the right flank, wondered.
Anxiety concerned you again - that's where your face-thief would go, right? That traitor was going to leave Purgatory with Dean there!
'That's where Dean is,' the accent fluctuated like your uncertainty.
The third Dwarf frowned. 'Exactly.'
Before you could come up with a lame defence, the first Dwarf snapped his fingers. 'Unless! Goodbye with Dean.'
Satisfied, they all murmured in understanding. Not that you knew what went through their heads - long as they don't ask you again, you don't care.
'Now, there, mate, won't you go fetch your King, and I'll see him at the Portal,' you suggested, plastering a smile to go along.
You'd thought you'd safely diverted everyone to the portal, giving you time and rest of the Purgatory to figure out a solution in.
'Good sounding,' the third one said. 'Sar-se, and I go tell. Y/N one leave with Yve-tt,' he pointed at the girl.
'Why!?' you whined Americanly, then, hurried in Brit, 'I mean, I can reach the portal by myself.'
'Danger roam,' argued Yve-tt. 'Leviathan wanting you. Help you, me. Take you, I.'
'Right,' you cleared your throat. 'Well, darlin', I just didn't want to be a bother, see?'
'Mind not, I!' she beamed.
You leashed your tongue lest it starts to curse out this 3x1 foot pain in your ass. 'Of course you don't!' you faked enthusiasm, 'Know why? 'Cause you're awesome!'
She giggled unattractively. The Dwarves stepped away with identical smiles (they all look the same to you).
She started leading you down the path, downstream, opposite where you were headed, and where the other Dwarves left at. While you wondered if your newfound Leviathan harming powers worked on Dwarves as well.
'You're sure we're headed the right way?'
Castiel nodded absent-mindedly. The Dwarves had given him elaborate instructions with intense gesticulating. Castiel knew that if the situation had been cheerier, he would have made friends out of them - they were adorable. Like bees, and monkeys, and everything in between.
'Five more minutes.'
Dean uneasily kept in step with his best friend. It had been almost two days into the war, and none of the parties seemed close to giving up - he'd never known any monsters before of such resilience - it was frankly annoying and he wanted them to die.
Speaking of resilience.
'Do you know where Y/N is?'
In the last two days, he'd asked that more times than he'd like to count; and he felt that ugly twinge of jealousy every time Castiel answered. You had made it a regular thing to discuss whereabouts with Castiel apparently. It was as grating as it was comforting to know.
'Last I heard, they sunk the ship and took to the foot. They are headed to safety. Fortunately, no Leviathans followed. Y/N thinks your soulmate killed her guards, thus, there was no one.'
Dean's thoughts wandered. He tried not to let your words filter in his mind on a loop, but their sting clung to him like an unseen thorn.
It's not like he didn't have a basic idea of why you were attracted to him. He had the face of your fucking fiancé - but it did not stop him from feeling . . . used.
Had he been that easy to cast aside?
How easily you reduced him to his face. A skin-deep attraction that you used as a crutch for your pain.
He was envious of his own lookalike. How can he have the girl, and not have her at the same time? Is the difference between doppelgangers really that much?
He lingered on his meeting with his own soulmate then. Same face, same voice; he spotted a smidge of difference (the accent, but you had already pretty much phased it out) before she was ripped away from him.
He tried to dwell on the fact that she is a monster. But his eyes darted to his angelic companion, and then he thought of Benny. The people he calls his best friends are nothing short of powerful. Even Sam has dabbled with powers once upon a time. Dean had the tiniest experience of being a vampire - but he never fully embraced that part of him . . . which makes him wonder how much of a different would powers make someone.
Definitely a lot. If his soulmate is a monster, then, there's a good chance she isn't a good person. And he doesn't think he can accept that.
Why can't he just have you?
He sighed through his nose - he was starting to get tired of his own whining, his childish stubbornness.
He needed to break the silence.
'So, do you, uh, did Y/N talk about me? You know, about the one with the same handsome face, but the better personality? Her soulmate?'
Real fuckin' improvement, rattled in his mind, heavy on the sarcasm. But the question was shot, with a lot of due resentment.
Castiel levelled him with a dry look. 'Sometimes.'
He forced his facial muscles to remain poker. 'Oh?'
Castiel smartly didn't take the bait, just nodded.
Dean was beginning to think that spending time with you had taught him to answer with silence. The frustration from his initial months with you tried to claw at him, but he took a subtle,e steadying breath.
'Cas?'
'Yes?' he tilted his head, kept trudging forward.
'She's not . . . She's not planning to run away, is she?'
He was desperate to hear just one confirmation.
As if summoned by your mention, his name was called by you. And then Castiel's.
He turned with a certain amount of relief to see you, with Benny in tow.
'Where is Y/N?' Castiel asked.
Dean wondered the same.
Y/N appeared distressed. 'We lost her!'
'Y/N?' the green-eyed man confirmed, because the number of times she seemed to get lost was becoming unreal - did this woman not want to go home?
'Second and only,' Benny tsked.
'This is all your fault!' the first and only whipped to point fingers. 'You should've stayed with her!'
'And lose you? No chance.'
The blond man was secretly grateful. Something he wouldn't say out loud unless he wanted to get punched by you in the face.
'Look,' Dean expelled a breath. 'Focus here. Do we find her now or what?'
'We're so close to the portal,' groaned Benny.
'What?'
'She lied to you again, Chief. Cas here was supposed to lead you away from the battle and towards the portal,' he casually revealed.
'Benny!'
Dean's indignant eyes found Castiel's, who was grimacing. His anger settled deep in his belly, and he resisted picking up the same fight again - he was getting really tired of how helpless they were rendering him.
'You're fucking impossible, you know that?' Dean spat at you instead.
'Oh, I'm the impossible one!?' she practically screeched. 'You don't understand, do you!? Can't you see what we've done to one another!?'
Dean hesitated.
He's never seen you so mad, outwardly, at least - he knows how much you tend to suppress. And losing his soulmate was starting to become your undoing.
This is a mess - falling for you has been like falling into quicksand, and all he can feel is suffocated, and trapped.
'We make each other helpless, Dean!' she shrieked, verbalising what he never dared to.
Because despite feeling like the walls have been closing down on him, he still knew that falling for you has been his biggest high.
How toxic is that?
He didn't say that either.
Nevertheless, you seemed to know.
'This is not love! Not true love!' you stamped your feet petulantly. 'This is not right - why can't you fucking see that?! Love makes you strong, not so fucking weak like we've made one another! We can never be more; we can never be each other's strengths; we can never be together! Why can't you understand that?' Your tears brimmed.
His jaw clenched while the other two men shuffled on their feet uncomfortably.
Dean felt embarrassment reddening the tips of his cheeks and the expanse of his neck. Mostly, he felt you words decorate into his chest like pieces of shrapnel. Red-hot coal of anger cooked his brain.
'I didn't ask you to be with me,' he said, deadly calm. 'I just asked you to leave with me.'
Benny jumped to answer before you could double his misery. 'Problem solved. Chéri, here, is traveling back with us. Her deal with the Supreme Dwarf was altered the morning of two days ago, she's using the replica to end the Levithans.'
Another lie, he bitterly holds in.
He was there that morning. You could've simply told him that. Maybe then he wouldn't have simped after you for the last two days to Castiel. Maybe then the seemingly unforgiving lead in his chest would have lifted earlier.
As relieved as he was to hear it, a part of him was just more upset with you. How can you be so horrible to him?
'She is?'
Castiel was just as confused as him - Dean was secretly appeased (because you seemingly didn't tell Cas everything).
Before you can throw out your defences (none of which he has the patience to hear anymore), more of those bird whistles echoed through the forest - much louder than what he had heard back at the camp, two days ago.
Your face drained of color. 'Oh, fuck, no!' With that platitude, you sprinted off in the direction of where he now knows the portal is.
'Y/N, wait!' Castiel called out, running after you.
Dean and Benny exchanged an unhappy look, following suit.
No, no, no, no, no, no, no!
This is not how this was supposed to go down. Everything is falling apart.
The American is lost; you lost your shit on the human; half-truths were in the air; and now this.
That call was supposed to be rung in the last phase of the war! And not a second before Dean was out of here. Not only did the Dwarves violate that part of your request, but also they rang it near the fucking portal!
You ran faster than you had in years - so much so that you had a fucking stitch in your side (not a normal occurrence) by the time you reached the site.
There was the portal, thin, and multi-dimensional, glowing weird colours. Your eyes were already jumping to the multitude of Dwarves there.
'How could you do this to me!?' you hissed out to Kan-fir as soon as you stopped in front of him.
His brows slanted inwards. 'What?'
'This! Kan-fir, I told you not to call the end of the war until Dean is safely back home! But you called the Leviathans right here! To the only exit!'
You panted huffily, barely catching any breath in between your emotional outbursts, only soothed by the puffs of adrenaline in your system.
He looked genuinely befuddled. 'But Y/N one ask to meet Leviathans while she say goodbye to man human, the Dean!'
'When did I say—!?' your breath caught. 'That bitch!'
Your scream startled the Dwarves in the vicinity. 'You call King, bitch?' one of the civilians frowned in protest.
You could s-c-r-e-a-m.
Dean and Castiel called your name, alternatively - finally in range to be audible.
'Kan-fir, I didn't ask this - the American did,' you seethed.
'I talk you!' stepped up Sar-se. 'We left Yve-tt and you!'
'Well, obviously, you made a mistake!' you can't seem to not panic. 'Can you see Yve-tt here!?'
He actually checked.
You closed your eyes: Don't make Dwarves your football, don't make Dwarves your football . . .
'What we do?' Kan-fir asked.
I don't know, was seated on the tip of your tongue. I don't know, I don't know, I don't know . . .
Castiel's voice called your name out, much closer. He gave the Dwarves one look, and he knew - he was the only one who knew the whole plan.
Dean and Benny were at his heels.
'Y/N! Sweetheart, what—?'
His question was cut off by the loud thudding footsteps. Of the Leviathans. Their entire army had arrived.
This was the part you'd been dreading.
You had asked the Dwarves to call a "negotiation" after you'd safely seen Dean off to his homeland. Wherein the Dwarves and the Leviathans would have a final showdown, with both the Heads available (not much talking they would do), and they would fight to death . . . With the weapon.
'You have to leave,' Castiel gravely informed the other human.
'What's going on?'
'The last battle,' Benny grimly informed. 'Take us home, brother.'
Dean met your eyes, and you froze. You didn't know what he was looking for. You just knew you didn't have it.
He rolled one of his sleeves up, and began the spell, soon absorbing Benny's soul into his forearm; it squirmed like lava underneath his skin, Dean didn't react on the face-value, but his face had tightened.
'Come on,' he extended his other hand to you.
'What he doing, Y/N?' Kan-fir asked suspiciously.
'Well, well, well. Isn't this a party?' a gloating voice joined the chaos.
Your unyielding body finally stepped towards Dean, and to his side just as "Dick" and his entourage filed into the increasingly shortening clearing.
Kan-fir, followed by his loyal citizens swarmed all around their XXXL-sized comrades (you guys).
'We meet again,' Kan-fir replied with confidence - and a glint that scared most monsters.
Dick's face coiled in disgust, his eyes flitting between Kan-fir, and Dean, staying on the latter man for a second longer.
Your hands snaked around his Benny-free one and squeezed. 'You have to get to the portal, darling.'
'We do,' he quietly persisted.
You kept forgetting your lies to him. 'Right. Sorry.'
Neither of you still moved. The line of Dwarves - bless their little souls and bodies - provided zero cover.
'We didn't know you adopted a circus of freaks, brother.'
'Only freak Kan-fir see is you,' the little finger jabbed the air. He was proud of his improving English.
Dick's face twitched. 'I was hoping you would apologise to me. But I guess you haven't learned your lesson.'
'We teach you. We have weapon!' the little King boasted.
'You mean - this?'
The Leviathans parted and an unconscious Dwarf was spat out, and then much heftier, still conscious, monster.
Of fucking course! She got kidnapped. AGAIN!
'Does that woman have no skills?' you scoffed to yourself. Though a part of you was relieved that she was right where you could see.
Okay, okay, okay. Revised plan, you consoled yourself. I can do this. Everyone's here.
'You didn't think you'd be the only one with a plan, did you, you pesky little killjoy?' Dick smirked
His fingers encased something in his belt, and you belatedly realised what it was - when it stabbed into the heart of your doppelganger!
A scream was ripped from your lungs - and the world cranked into fast forward.
He ripped the dagger out and callously let her fall to the ground for the dead. Dean held you back, and you understood that you'd jerked in that direction by reflex. He was already dragging you to the portal.
The Dwarves yelled and crashed against the lines of Leviathans. The little minions were overwhelmingly good against the black-goo-filled crap-bags.
'Cas, come on!' Dean ordered over your head.
You were still in shock, your eyes fixated on your face-thief. A guilt and regret tugging at your insides, fighting against the shock.
You were too locked up in your own head to see the portal a foot away.
'Sweetheart, climb in!' Dean urgently demanded.
You locked eyes with his green irises, but it wasn't his voice that ran rampant in your mind.
You're mine, darlin'. Just mine. And I'm yours.
The haze in your mind was torn apart by a shout and a lunge of a sword that you only saw from the corner of your eye.
'Dean!' you finally found your voice.
You threw your body in front of him, and your momentum pushed him back into the portal. You gasped, falling into the ground with a pained cry, that was overridden by Dean's protesting one.
Your eyes blurred only for a second, but by the time you could see, you only noticed Dean's desperate countenance trying to get off the portal. Yet, the thin pocket of time and space has zipped up, and been lost to Purgatory forever.
The goodbye poised at the tip of your tongue was left unsaid . . . Forever.
You took a shuddering breath - unsure if it was from pain of the dagger lodged in your abdomen or the relief of knowing that Dean is finally safe.
I did it! The exhilaration did not last long though.
Your tremouring fingers grabbed the blade and the hilt tightly, and you gave yourself a count of three before you ripped it from yourself with a devastating sob. Your head fell back, and tears trekked down the sides of your face even though dark spots competed with them to take your vision first.
A laugh made you blink back everything. A Leviathan entered your periphery.
'Didn't know it would be so easy to take you down. For a legend, you're pathetic . . . Why are you smiling?'
You didn't know you were. 'Because,' you snapped your left leg with all your might into his knee, making him lose balance and fall forward into the waiting dagger. You hoisted upwards, ignoring the urge to hurl when your wound was pressurized; you grabbed a Borax arrow on the way. 'For a monster, you don't scare me.' Gruesomely, you struck his cerebral facilities; your arrow impaling the ground.
You granted your burning lungs a moment of oxygen before you stood. Your old mannerisms surfaced: stab, dodge, roll, repeat.
The place was crawling with both teams - but you're just looking for a good vantage point from where you can shoot Y/N - before she dies by herself, that is.
You saw many of the Dwarves you recognised, dying momentarily, and then waking up again, dusting off, and throwing themselves at the Leviathans with a new zeal.
Even Castiel was pitching in quite a lot, smiting all he could. Piling up decapitated Leviathans, and avoiding being eaten by the rest.
You guessed you were the most astonished by Kan-fir - and how . . . scrappy he was. No wonder he was the King with how he was running up and down Dick, finding new spots to bite, and using his toothpick-sized knife (coated in Borax) to weaken Dick from unusual places.
You downed another asshole; she took you down with a mean right-hook, you disabled her hands and head. That's when, through the shuffling footsteps, you saw her.
Propped weakly against a tree, eyes dropping, mouth leaking with drool and blood.
You grunted as you went, ducking two engagements with Leviathans and rushing to sidestep a shrieking Cee-cee who could deafen her enemy.
Y/N was in your full view now, when a punch into your side knocked you against the nearest tree.
Your hands broke your fall, except your jaw, which slammed and scraped. You groaned, having bitten your tongue; the metallic taste flooded your mouth.
The other Y/N whimpered, trying to slink away from you, but only managing to fall into the ground. She heaved heavily, otherwise motionless.
The Leviathan hauled you off the bark and lifted you by the collars. He beat you against the tree repeatedly and the quiver on your back shattered the fifth time, the arrows collected at your feet. Then, he framed you on the tree, letting the stray pieces of your broken quiver dig into your back while he used you as his punching bag. He scratched and clawed whatever skin he could reach. Then he dropped you, letting your weak legs crumble like grass under you. You fell to your knees, bruised and swollen all over. Your nose was broken, your lips torn. You knew for sure there was a black-eye because you could only squint with the left one. Your abdominal wound had taken a few more hits, which had spouted more blood, and you knew that you had a few broken ribs.
He walked past you knowing you were dead meat.
You swallowed the claret in your mouth, sniffling ever so slightly, your ears catching the tailend of his phrase, ' . . . stupid whore trying to steal the weapon on my watch.'
Your hands slung the bow off your body slowly, it was somehow intact after the cruel and relentless beating you took. Your fingernails dug around the ground in an effort to reach the stack of arrows - only two mattered to you.
Red for Y/N two . . . eviscerate on spot . . . blue for Y/N one . . . through the heart . . .
You took a total of five.
You used the tree you had been hit against as a support to stand.
The Leviathan gave you an impatient sigh. 'You humans are truly annoying, you know that?'
'Funny, was gonna say the same to you,' you taunted.
The man had beaten your torso, probably beyond recognition. Yet, he didn't touch your hands. A mistake his entire brethren would pay for.
You nocked and shot the red arrow. It whizzed through the air and cut into the American's elbow. She imploded into thin air like a sack of pollen grains.
'You missed!' he scoffed gleefully. 'You just destroyed your own weapon!' There was a teasing lilt to his dimples.
'If you want to kill an artist, you don't take their life. You take their livelihood; their hands,' you said, taking that time to align your Borax arrows.
'You think you're an artist? Girl, you're a wackjob!'
'Artists of war often are,' you smirked. 'You ready to die?'
'You gonna miss again?' he taunted.
'Oh, but darlin', I never miss,' you grinned. 'She was a weapon. I just never said we'd use her.' The three arrows stretched back.
His smile evaporated as the meaning dawned on him. 'Why would the Dwarves call this negotiation if not to eradicate us?'
'That's for me to know, and you to die for,' you winked.
The arrows were too quick for him to move away. His head separated from his body, and he would make sure he never woke up again. All with one arrow.
There was a scream of horror and your small victory was overshadowed.
Dick was laughing and the Dwarves gaped in a singular terror where in the middle of the ground lay Kan-fir with the Leviathans' ultimate weapon sheathed through the middle of his body. It was the weapon they had used on Y/N's body. They thought her blood was the key to killing the Dwarves population.
An ominous air ensued the clearing, and the Dwarves acted their part in exchanging petrified and uncertain looks - any second now, they were looking at each other to start dropping like flies in the presence of a mosquito coil.
Or so they were good at pretending.
The Leviathans started hooting and cheering, they started disentangling with the Dwarf population because it was only common sense that the death of such a powerful Leader would blast a wide area around him, making a fatality of anyone in the near vicinity.
Dick remained nearest to Kan-fir for the longest while, waiting for the first signs of sizzling to start before he made his triumphant retreat.
Everyone had been so focused on Kan-fir's death that no one noticed you sneak up on Dick.
If only they knew that they needed the weapon to be enjoined with the Leader in death.
The blue arrow was poised at your heart, and you stood back-to-back with Dick.
You're mine, darlin'. Just mine. And I'm—
You stabbed yourself, driving the weapon with force, through you and into another chest.
More shouts aired, and Dick gasped.
Your breath got stuck in your lungs. His chest pierced in the same line as yours. You don't think you'd quite managed to get your fluttering organ, but you did know at least one major artery had been hit, or you'd at least nicked your heart - that would be enough.
You're scary, you know that?
Both of you fell haphazardly to your knees, and then to a side. With the few blinks you'd left, you saw the Leviathans yelling in terror - ruing the day they made this cocky jerk their Leader, scampering off - but they would die no matter where they went.
What do you mean?
It was the Dwarves and the other monsters who would lose their lives in vain if they didn't make themselves scarce. You both would explode any second now.
I mean, I'm scared of you.
Castiel was extremely blurry when he crouched next to you, his voice so distant that you got the feeling of being underwater. Your memories washed away as you sank deeper into your drowning; you would never have to cry over a memory again.
You closed your eyes, thinking to Castiel: Run!
He hadn't budged when your e/cs opened again.
Please, you prayed. I forgive you . . . Run . . . .
You both knew the weight of that. He didn't want to leave. Yet, there was nothing he could do to help; he felt your life force taper.
The last thing you heard was the flap of his wings.
And it was lights out.
You were dream-scaping again.
You were revisiting a time that followed right after a memory you'd already seen.
Frustrated tears built in her eyes. 'I do want to go home . . . I can't believe I'm doing this . . . Kan-fir,' something changed in her eyes, 'I need to talk to you alone.'
He frowned, but relented. Others left.
'What are the requirements to be a weapon?' you asked determinedly.
He listed off on his tiny fingers. 'A monster who a Leader. But don't have anyone to take care, so when Leader die, no follower die.'
'Great,' you nodded. 'Okay, so you're saying I can do it.'
'Did you no listen?'
'If I send Dean back, I'll be a Leader of humans when there aren't any to take care of.'
'You got no monster magic!' he countered.
'Yes, I do! I was once an archangel! That's got to count, right? I can no longer activate it, but once you've been a monster, you can't go back.'
He shook his head. 'Tall shot. Kan-fir no like tall shots.'
She all but pleaded. 'Kan-fir, trust me, this will work! It must.'
'You not a monster!' he said heatedly.
'You, yourself said, that monsters are relative. You called humans monsters because we made you take to the walls, and cling to the shadows. The American is not a monster because of her powers, she is one because humans pushed her away!'
You couldn't believe your eyes or ears . . . She defended you?
'But. Tall, tall shot.'
'Please.'
'Tall, tall, tall shot,' he reiterated, agitated.
Her temper snapped. 'Kan-fir, what will remain the difference between you and the Leviathans if you use an innocent's life for your gain?'
He seemed riled up. 'But, Y/N two, we no like.'
'Let me not shock you, Kan-fir - but saving people even if you don't like them can be the line you draw between you and your so-called brothers! That will be the mark of your betterment. Let me die, and you whip her up a cure - that's when you'll have proven that you deserve to live more than the Leviathans do!'
His shoulders sagged. 'But, you, we like, little. This is not standard double?'
She tamed, 'No. Because you kill her and you leave us both with nothing. You let me sacrifice, and you let us both have the lives we need.'
The little man huffed. 'Me no like . . . But. Kan-fir go make special arrows. One for her . . . and one for you.'
'That's all I ask. Oh, and, uh, set up a negotiation,' she pinched the bridge of her nose as she remembered.
'With Leviathans?'
'Yes. I'll let you know when. And where.'
'You say goodbye there?'
'Goodbye to who?'
'Purgatory.'
She chuckled, 'Uh, yeah, yeah. But first, I need to retrieve the other Y/N, and, uh, take care of Dean.'
The colours diluted into something else.
Dean was looking down on a gorgeous, picturesque city littered with equal parts treehouses and the forest that only got denser from the edge of the city line. The man of about six-foot-one was unbothered by your dreamwalking presence. His burly frame leaned on the railing, his teeth ground now and again.
'Dean!' a voice like yours just thickly layered with a British accent, called.
Dean didn't turn.
'Out 'ere!'
Your face-thief rushed in.
She looked breathtaking in her custom-made formal gown, adhering to her like a second skin.
'You aren't dressed,' she said, sounding exhausted.
'Why bother, darling?' he glanced at her over his shoulder, quickly looking away as if he was stopping himself from fully appreciating you.
His moodiness didn't deter her. Approaching him with a scowl, she ducked under one of his hands so that she could efficiently betwixt his arms and the railing. She had to lean back so their heads wouldn't clang.
So up close, she didn't leave Dean a choice . . . His eyes dipped down, admiring, and Dean was now too busy being taken with you to gain distance.
'Aren't you afraid someone'll spot you?' he snarked.
She made a face at him that verged on hurt. 'Why won't you be there?'
When he tussled with his dilemmas for too long, she investigated further.
'Are you jealous?' her pout was too hopeful to succeed.
He would not let his insecurities overcrowd her stress. 'Of?'
'Other suitors coming to see me,' she said, hope dwindling.
'I'm giving them a fighting chance,' he dipped his head down challengingly. 'If I come, you won't give them the time of your day.'
She rolled her eyes.
'Daydreaming, are we?'
A tad bit offended, Dean scoffed.
He captured her lips punishingly, pressing her back into his balcony railing. His hand glided up to her jaw, tipping her head backwards so he could devour her to his heart's content.
You had to look away in shame and modesty.
When they could part, Dean was chirpier. 'Felt pretty real to me,' he winked.
She blushed hotly.
'What if I find someone else tonight?' she asked, weirdly sounding desperate. 'Handsomer, maybe? More charming?'
'Woman, please,' he curled a finger under her chin, locking eyes with her. 'You can't find someone handsomer. And heck, even if you find someone with my exact face, you won't be able to pick them. Know why?'
'Why?'
'You're mine, darlin',' he shrugged. He had never been more sure of anything in his entire life. 'Just mine. And I'm yours.'
Tears clogged her tear ducts. You could almost feel them, they were tangible to you . . .
'Prove it?' she held her breath.
His eyes narrowed. 'At . . . the Ball,' he guessed.
'It's like one mind,' she whispered weakly.
Dean's stoic mask wavered. 'You know you'll be all right, right? I'm right here. I'm not going to let some goddamn idiot whisk you away; I'll be the idiot then.'
She chortled. 'I am taking this very rationally, Dean. I am rational.'
'You're everything,' Dean uttered.
The dream dissolved into another.
The most recent one: the battle site where you'd been shot.
You see some of the Dwarves extracting the dagger from Kan-fir, and him gasping for air, as he sits up. The Leviathans are running away in the backdrop. Even the Dwarves have a certain sense of urgency to their movements. As soon as Kan-fir gets his bearings, he gives one sad glance to his right, and runs off with his subjects.
Where Kan-fir had gazed, you see Castiel kneeling before your face-thief.
An arrow ran through her heart, and into the centre of Le Dick Roman. Their blood, red and black pooling under their bodies as they lay back-to-back - Dick already gone, and Y/N on her way.
Castiel, close to tears, takes a regretful breath and a flutter of the wind indicates his take-off.
The clearing is empty and silent when you see her last breath escape her.
Everything is too still.
They blast.
The Purgatory shakes.
And you know that the Leviathans are extinct.
The scene has already transformed since the explosion.
You were in a pitch black room when an arrow came shooting across, out of nowhere, and it fleshed your elbow.
You felt like all your atoms scattered.
You woke up with a scream.
Your hands were already searching your body for wounds you knew you'd acquired from being kidnapped by the Leviathans. (Again. Seriously, that had to have been a world record of being kidnapped so many times in such a short span.)
But there was nothing. You were in the middle of a fucking forest, one akin to the nightmarish kind you'd apprently just escaped.
You were in the same clothes as you'd been when you died, yet, there was not one hole in them. Not a speck of claret either.
You would have believed that you had been dreaming this whole time (wouldn't be so surprising, downside of being a dreamwalker - scary, but not surprising) if you hadn't looked around the floor to find a red feathered arrow with a gold ring attached just under the arrow head.
This all had been real.
Someone had truly died to save you.
Guilt consumes you: you killed a human being. For the first time, you killed an actual person . . . You really are a monster now.
Tears perched on the rims of your eyes. Your arms wrapped around yourself unconsciously, and finally found one injury.
You checked your elbow where the arrow had skinned you. You knew right then it would scar even if it wasn't bleeding right now . . . It would be the scar the Englishwoman had been looking for when she'd first met you.
A scar that would now forever stay with you as a reminder of your monstrosity. A scar that would be your connection to your European face-thief; well, that, and her soulmate ring she gave you as her parting gift.
A/N: Well, this is it ❤️🥹.
What did y'all think about the ending? I have a feeling I might get mixed reviews for this one 👀; by all means don't hold back 🙃.
And what did you think of the teeny-tiny cliffhanger about the English Reader 🫣?
