#nash200

A feeling of nausea rolls through me, my stomach quivering as it threatens to heave up its contents.

“Well,” Dean says, gratefully gently, “Good morning, starshine.”

“No,” I grunt, cutting him off and making him chuckle.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m dying. I don’t ever want to drink again.”

“Aww, come on. Can’t be that bad.”

“Shut up.” I whine. Completely pathetic.

“Hey. Don’t pass out on me again.”

I wave him off as he chuckles to himself again, and once I swallow the nausea back down, I resettle myself to pass back out. I’m just finding the sweet spot when I feel the car swerve then start to shake and rattle, the loud thundering from beneath us jolting me upright as I cling to the dashboard.

“Ohmygod!”

Dean turns the wheel, pulling the Impala away from the rumble strip along the side of the highway. “You gotta wake up, we’re almost in Hays.”

“Ugh, again?” I look at him, my face scrunched up in pain. “Can’t we just go home so I can die in peace?”

He purses his lips, at least pretending to think it over. “No can do. I’ve got a date with a plate of bacon and a sweet, sweet woman.”

“Dean, it’s unhealthy.”

“Look, leave the bacon alone-”

“No, not the bacon - Patsy. Because you - prolapsed rectum that you are - are infatuated with her, whose cobwebby old snooch, by the way, I can smell from here.”

“Pshh,” he shook his head at me, “You sound jealous.”

“You. Wish.”

Twenty minutes later, Dean pulls off the highway and into a lot overgrown with weeds and rogue patches of grass. The restaurant lacks a sign out front, and if it weren’t for the huge, dingy windows, no one would have known people were inside. Dean quickly hops out, waiting as I force myself from the car, every bit of me protesting as I go.

He pulls open the creaking screen door, following as I walk through first, and lets it slam shut behind him. The short, leather-skinned waitress pushes through the kitchen door, mouth curved into a wrinkled frown.

“There’s my special lady!” Dean shouts from behind me, making me cringe. I glance to my left, noticing a group of college kids looking like they’re still going from the night before, and on the other side, a few other stragglers who seem just as confused as I am as to why they are there.

“Well hey Dean, Y/n. Go on, sit down, you’re blockin’ the breeze,” she says, shooing us away from the entrance and the swiveling fan that pulls in nothing but dry, hot air from outside.

Dean shoves me into a booth, just settling in as she places down two waters, condensation already dripping down the sides of the slim glasses.

“Didn’t expect to see you so soon. You keep up with all these visits and you’re gonna make my husband jealous,” she croaks. Her sandpaper voice, perfected by about 80 years of smoking at least 2 packs a day sends my skin crawling with irritation.

“Which husband is that - number four or number five?” I ask, rubbing my head on my palm.

She tilts a hip, setting her hand on it. “Four. And if I have my way, Dean will be my lucky number five,” she responds matter-of-factly.

“Ohhh, Patsy, I’m yours. Just as long as you vow to make me that pie of yours.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” she scolds him. “You’re gonna be my trophy husband. Can’t let you go and get all plump on pies.”

“More like consolation prize,” I mutter.

“Please honey, this boy is arm candy and you know it,” she emphasizes with a bony finger pointed at me. Dean sits up a bit straighter, pleased to be so blatantly objectified as I roll my eyes, regretting it immediately as the movement strains my eye muscles.

“So what am I in this whole situation?”

Patsy eyes me up and down for a moment, clumpy mascara chunks sticking together as she lazily blinks.

“I’ll let you be his mistress. I’m sure he’s got the stamina for it, and Lord knows you ain’t got the brains to lock him down before someone else does.”

I bark out a laugh, setting off a fresh wave of pain in my head. “More like I’m too smart for that.”

She gives me a pointed look, droopy eyelids hanging down despite the eyebrow she’s raised.

“What? I am,” I insist.

“Right, because you walked into ‘Stripper’s Discount Warehouse’ and said, ‘Help me showcase my intellect.’”

I drop my mouth open, amusement and shock hitting me in equal measure. Dean slams a hand down onto the table, making the silverware rattle as he tries to contain his laughter.

“Patsy, go easy on her, she’s had a rough night.” He gestures at me and I glance down at myself, assessing whether or not I look as awful as I feel. I’m still wearing my ‘bait’ outfit that helped me blend in with the rowdy, drunk crowd from the night before. It’s more than a little off-kilter; I wipe under my eyes, pulling away the residue of eye makeup.

“Well, Dean, if that’s how you leave the ladies the morning after, I might have to reconsider our relationship.”

“Please, Patsy, you know I’d treat you like a queen.” He grabs her hand, holding it tenderly.

“And I’d never let you out of bed to see the outside world again.” She winks. “Now, let’s get some food in y’all before Y/n here goes green.”

Dean smiles and shakes his head in awe. “I love you.”

She pats his shoulder condescendingly as she walks away humming ‘Looking for Love,’ refilling a few coffee mugs and jotting down an order for the cook waiting at the griddle.

“So, fill me in on last night. I’m guessing the bloodsuckers didn’t give you too much trouble?” I ask, sipping the water and letting my fingers trail along the condensation.

“Nah, it was pretty easy to get the location of the nest. However, you...at last call, that’s a whole other story.”

“Yikes.” It’s as much of an apology as I can give at the moment, but he accepts it. I dig an ice cube from the glass and pop it into my mouth, “Next time, I’m dangling you for bait.”

“What? I don’t get an encore?” He smirks.

“An encore of what?” I ask with a tilt of my head. Desperate for the pain to go away so I can focus on remembering what happened.

His smirk spreads into a wide smile, his eyes shining with mischief. How he looks so good while I feel so terrible just makes me more frustrated and ready to backhand him. A flash of red and green zooms past before I hear it plunked onto the table, drawing my attention away from our staring contest.

“Quit makin’ eyes at my man and drink up,” Patsy interrupts.

I turn to her, getting a stern look in reply as she nods at the table. A short glass of thick, red tomato juice with a huge celery stalk sticking out of it rests before me, which I stare at suspiciously.

“Hair of the dog, hun. It’ll perk you right up.”

My stomach rolls and Dean laughs at the gurgle.

“Oh, well, I hope that’s got some whiskey, and some tequila, and let’s see -  does rum sound right to you?”

“I'll be...ugh….bathroom,” I mumble and gesture as I scramble out of the booth, tripping on anything and everything on my way. A watery belch escapes from my stomach, burning on the way up.

“Gross,” I whisper at myself, trying to ignore the giggling from the table of college kids that got an earful.

The bathroom smells like piss, and wet dog, and more piss - not helping my uneasy stomach, but at this point I'm sure puking would make me feel worse. I hover over the seat, weakly tugging at the fabric at my hips to pull it down, until the urge becomes too much and I shove them down, letting out an ahhh of relief, followed swiftly by a confused, “What the -?”

After taking a moment to wipe some cool water over my face and clean up the smudged makeup and drool marks, I do my best to walk back without wobbly legs, barely making it before collapsing back into the booth, sliding across the vinyl to unflattering noises, grateful to have to put little to no effort into sitting.

“Dean?”

“Yup?” he asks, popping the ‘p’ harder than necessary. His bottom lip is stiff and trembling as he tries to hold onto a straight face.

“Whose underwear am I wearing?”

Before I get two words out he's folding over in laughter.

“Fucking tequila,” I spit, angry at drunk me, and more angry at Dean for enjoying it so much.

He's trying to form words between laughter, but only gets out snippets that don't make any sense. “The band...and these paper hats...he had beef jerky...and you...and you…” He gives up as I stare at him flatly, not following a damn bit of it but certain I had violated at least a few local ordinances by his reaction.

“And what did you do that whole time?”

He digs his phone from his pocket, wiggling it in his palm. “Surveillance.” He winks.

My head hurts more. My brain rattles in my skull with every hard beat of my heart, the blood struggling to pump through my dehydrated body. I close my eyes and wrap my hands around the glass of tomato juice, hoping what's in there is enough to provide relief until we get back to the bunker. If Dean’s this thrilled, I must have done something good, but it's all blank, hours lost to a haze of alcohol and loads of blackmail. God Damn it.

“For I am a sinner in the hands of an angry God.” I attempt to sound repentant.

“Prayers won't help you with this one.”

I open my eyes, staring at the cocktail in my hands and the absurd celery stalk standing in it like it's a Magic 8 Ball, ready to provide me with an answer as I continue my prayer. “Bloody Mary, full of vodka, blessed are you among cocktails. Pray for me in the hour of my death, which I hope is soon. Amen.”

“That was very moving.” I look up, surprised to see Patsy there with a tray of food and a smirk on her face. She sets the food on the table in front of us, moving things as she pleases to make room.

“It was something,” Dean laughs, shaking his head back and forth, staring at his phone screen.

“I'm too hungover for this.” With a groan and all the speed I can muster, I reach across the table, barely snatching the phone from his hand before he can react and dropping it right into the thick, red juice sending it splattering across the table.

I pick up the glass and hand it to Patsy. She takes it gingerly between her fingers, eyebrows lifted in disbelief.

“Patsy, dear sweet angel that you are, can I please get another? There's something in this one.”

“Waste of vodka,” she grumbles, walking back into the kitchen.

Dean has his head resting on his fist, a bored look in his face instead of the angry one I expected. “Feel better, sweetheart?”

“Maybe.” I narrow my eyes at him. “Why?”

“Sammy’s got everything backed up. The cloud, ya know,” he waves a hand in the air, “Now all you did was piss off Patsy.”

“Whatever, she knows you're an ass.”

“Blue ribbon ass.” He takes another bite, talking through his food. “Don’t forget, I’m a prize.”

“You sure are honey,” Patsy croons at him. “But darlin’, you mistreat this girl right here and I don’t care how sweet that ass is, I will beat it up and down main street.”

Patsy sets another drink down in front of me, sending a nod of solidarity my way as she sets Dean’s napkin-wrapped phone in front of him. I finally take a sip, only slightly gagging as I push more alcohol into my system.

“Careful, Patsy, I might like it,” he calls over his shoulder as she walks away.

“So would I,” she hollers as she pushes through the kitchen door.

“Could you be any louder?” I whine, grasping my head in my hands, wanting nothing more than to sink down into the seat and go to sleep again. “Next time you’re the bait.”

“You just wanna see me in a skimpy outfit.”

“I’m gonna puke.”

“So, the case,” his picks up, muffled by a mouthful of food, “There’s good news and bad news.”

“Lord, take me now.” I pinch my nose in frustration.

“Okay, ignoring that. So, good news, the plan worked and we drew out the nest.”

“How could there be bad news?”

“We still gotta take them out.”

“Excuse me? H-how? I mean. Why?” I watch as he shoves more food into his mouth, ignoring me.

“Yeah, so it looks like we’re still on clean up, Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”

“Oh, I liked that show,” Patsy chimes in, breaking the tension as she fills up Dean’s half-empty coffee mug. “And, ya know, I like them Twilight vampires, too.” She walks away, not adding anything further to the conversation.

Dean’s face curls in displeasure, his voice dropping low, “Oh, Patsy. No.”

“Patsy, yes.” I smile sleepily. “You know, opposites attract. I can see why you like coming here so much.”

“Shut up.” He wipes his hands and face.

“So,” I gulp down more of the cocktail, “Where are they?”

He stares down at the egg residue on his plate, swirling it with the tines of his fork. “They’re, uhhh, West. Just over the Colorado border.”

I squint. “Dean. That’s where we just came from.”

He glances up at me, lips pinched shut as he chews. His eyes wide with a fake look of surprise.

“God damn it, Dean!” He freezes and I lower my voice. “You mean to tell me you just dragged my hungover ass two hours away from our hunt for some breakfast.”

“Not just breakfast,” he insists, shaking his head. “Patsy.”

“You’re seriously obsessed. Are we sure she isn’t a siren or a witch...or mayyybe some kind of rogue leviathan hybrid -”

“Please don’t ruin this for me, Y/n.”

“What if she’s got the whole town under a spell, and we’re screwed because she’d dumbed us down with food…”

“Please stop,” Dean begs, eyeballing the skillet in front of him.

“Oh no no no. Just imagine, we’ve got her cornered, torching this godforsaken place, but we’re too dumbed down to move, and like, a big sweaty fireman carries you out of the burning building and you think - Yeah, okay, he’s gonna give me mouth-to-mouth - but instead he just starts choking the shit out of you, and the last sensation that you feel before you die is he’s squeezing your throat so hard that a big wet blob of drool drips off his teeth, and just - flurp - falls right onto your popped-out eyeball.” I finish describing the scene with my hands clenched around the air.

Dean stares at me blankly, chewing uneasily on the food in his mouth. “That was cruel.”

“What was cruel? Something wrong, hun?” Patsy stops, nodding at Dean’s unfinished plate.

He gives her a skeptical up-down. “No, no, just gotta, you know, hit the road again.”

“Love ‘em and leave ‘em. Typical.” She shakes her head as she slaps down the bill. “Til next time, darlin’.”

He watches her shuffle away, eyes shifting between the waitress and me. He leans in, whispering, “You don’t really think? I mean, it’s Patsy.”

“Seriously. Grossly. Infatuated.” I shake my head in disbelief, “If we check her out and she’s clean, I won’t come between you again, I promise. Now let’s get back out there and you can tell me about what happened to my underwear before this vodka wears off.”

Tags y’all:

“Where is he?!” Dean repeated, his voice rising with intensity.

The conductor pointed shakily at the ceiling. The three of you looked up in unison to an open hatch to the roof of the train, the cold wind shaking it violently from side to side.

“Oh, great,” you muttered, bringing your gun down. “When did we enter a western movie?”

Dean grinned and chuckled before turning to you and Sam. “Ok, I’m going up. You two stay here in case he makes it past me.”

“Woah, woah, woah!” you said, grabbing Dean’s hand to stop him. “Hold on a second, John Wayne. You’re can’t go up there. It’s way too dangerous. You’ll get yourself killed.”

He squeezed your hand and gave you a reassuring smile. “Y/N, relax, I’ll be fine. And, we can’t just let the demon get away. Besides,” he added with a self-assured grin, “I’ve always wanted to fight on top of a moving train.”

You rolled your eyes at him and turned to Sam. “Help me out here?”

Sam shrugged apologetically before addressing Dean. “I’ll loop around to the front of the train to see if I can block him in.” He moved to leave, but paused to look back at Dean. “Be careful.”

Dean nodded. You, on the other hand, let out an exasperated sigh as Sam turned and ran back through the door behind you. “I forgot I was a single parent!”

Dean gave your hand another squeeze, drawing your attention to him. “I’ll be ok, Y/N. You don’t need to worry,” he said with a gentle smile. “Now, come on, we’re wasting time. I’m going up. You can stay here if you don’t like it.”

“Wait,” you cried, stopping Dean again. You took a deep breath. “I’m coming with you.”

Dean shot you a satisfied grin and pulled out the demon killing knife. “Let’s go gank ourselves a demon.”

You couldn’t help but smile too, as you followed Dean up the ladder to the roof of the train, bracing yourself when the cold gust of wind hit you the minute your head cleared the hatch.

“You sure this is a good idea?” you asked, as Dean helped you out onto the roof. “Have you always wanted to die in a dramatic fall from a train?”

Dean laughed. “We’ve faced worse. This isn’t nearly as bad as the time we fought that ghost on the edge of the Grand Canyon.”

“Mmhmm….” You muttered, only half listening. Your eyes scanned the roof, zeroing in on the demon, who was two cars down. “Dean! There!”

Dean gripped the knife and moved in front of you. You tightened your hold on your gun and took another deep breath. You knew the gun wouldn’t kill the demon, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.

“Hey!” Dean yelled, drawing the demon’s attention. “Fighting on top of the train? Really? Isn’t that a little over the top, even for you guys?”

The demon let out a guttural growl and raced towards the two of you. You raised your gun over Dean’s shoulder and fired off three rapid rounds, hitting the demon square in the chest. He stumbled, but kept moving, the bullets barely slowing him down.

“Fantastic,” you muttered. Dean quickly moved forward with his knife raised, stopping the demon before it could reach you. But, before he could strike, a gust of wind blew him off-balance. He corrected quickly, but not quickly enough. As he stood back up, the demon knocked the knife right out of his hand. He grabbed it before Dean could and hit him over the head with it, knocking him out cold.

“Dean!” You rushed forward, tackling the demon as he raised the knife over Dean’s unconscious body.

The knife knocked out of his hand and skidded across the roof. You struggled with the demon, both of you trying to reach it. You could feel the train shuddering under you, the wind blowing against you, as you fought for your life.

“Y/N!” You heard Sam yell from close by. He must have found a way onto the roof.

“The knife, Sam. The knife!”

He rushed towards it, but, before he could grab it, the demon threw you off of him and right into Sam, knocking you both down. You laid there, dazed, expecting the demon to come and finish the two of you off, when you heard a loud shout. “Hey!”

You looked up and saw Dean standing behind the demon, holding your gun. “Dean, I already tried that! Shooting him didn’t work!”

“I know,” Dean grumbled. “I’m not gonna shoot him.” He reeled back his arm and sent the gun flying through the air, right at the demon. It hit him square in the head, knocking him off balance and right over the edge of the train.

“HA!” Dean yelled, throwing his hands into the air. “Take that, you demonic meathead!”

You let out a sigh of relief and sat up weakly, taking Sam’s outstretched hand to help you stand up. “Great job, Dean, but next time, you throw a gun off a train, use your own gun, ok?”

“I’m sorry, what’s that?” he said cockily, holding his hand up to his ear. “I can’t hear you over the sound of my deafening awesomeness.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you grumbled, pushing past Dean to the train opening. “You owe me a gun, bigshot.”

As you walked away, you could hear Sam and Dean’s laughter behind you, and you smiled. One thing was for sure: hunting with the Winchesters was never boring.

If there is anything that you need to know about Sam and Dean Winchester, it’s that they can hold their liquor. Being a hunter, it kind of comes with the territory, but being a Winchester generally ups the alcohol tolerance automatically. Between that and the years of abuse their livers had sustained, it took quite a bit to knock the brothers out of commission. Although Y/N was younger and smaller, her tolerance was also surprisingly high, and she often gave the boys a run for their money. These facts may not seem too important to this story except that in this particular instance, all three of our intrepid hunters had let their guards down a little too much and had proceeded to indulge in the happy hour specials with a little more vigor than was necessary. By the time this story begins, both Winchesters, Y/N, and even Cas had all made decisions that would turn a simple night out into a night that the bar patrons would talk about for years to come.

Dean threw back his seventh shot of whiskey for the night, the burn of it sliding down his throat not even registering anymore. He slammed the glass down on the bar and signalled the bartender to bring him another. “I’m telling you, Sam, being single is the best. I can do whatever I want.”

Y/N looked over at Dean and rolled her eyes, “I’m literally standing right next to you, Dean. Right. Next. To. You.”

Sam leaned over and kissed the top of her head, “He’s just jealous because he doesn’t have someone who is as amazing as you, babe.”

Dean groaned, “See? That right there. Babe? Really?” Dean mimicked a whip cracking and grabbed the shot the bartender had slid down the bar to him.

Y/N smacked Dean in the arm, “He’s not whipped. I mean, not in that sense anyway.” Y/N winked, and Dean grimaced at the image that had unwillingly sprung into his mind.

“You guys are disgusting.” Sam leaned down and kissed Y/N, a little more passionately than he normally would in public due to the alcohol rushing his system, and Dean grimaced. “Why are you the way that you are? Seriously?”

Sam looked at Dean and grinned, “Because I have sex with actual women! My girlfriend’s not equal parts the internet, a tube of Kentucky jelly, self-loathing, and a sock.”

Dean glared at Sam, then turned his attention towards the main part of the bar, “Whatever, man, chicks dig self-loathing.” His eyes wandered over the crowd and stopped when he got to Cas sitting at a table in the corner, a large man with a huge beard sitting opposite of him, and a long lineup of shots in front of both of them. “What...the hell is happening over there?” Sam shrugged, but immediately grabbed Y/N’s hand and dragged her towards where the angel was staring down, what appeared to be, a Hell’s Angel reject. Dean stumbled after them and swiped a beer that a waitress was carrying past him on a tray, offering a quick wink when she frowned at him. Dean slid into the booth next to Cas and slung an arm around his best friend’s shoulder, “Whatcha doin’, Cas?” he hiccuped.

Cas glanced at Dean out of the corner of his eye, then back at the guy in front of him, “This man said that he could drink more than I could, Dean, and I do not think that that is the case.”

Dean snorted, “Aw, come on Cas, you know-” Dean stopped suddenly as Sam smacked the back of his head, and Dean glared up at Sam, “What the hell-”

“Why don’t we put some money on that, boys?” Y/N said slyly, throwing a wink at Dean, “Say….$100? Does that sound good to you….?” She looked at the biker.

“Name’s Taser Face,” he growled. Dean snorted, then tried to recover by coughing when Y/N glared at him.

“Taser Face, does that sound like a fair bet?”

He gave Y/N what appeared to be a grin, although it was hard to tell between the missing teeth and large moustache that was currently obscuring half his face. “Make it $500, sweet tits, and we got ourselves a deal.” Sam let out a quiet growl at the ‘sweet tits’ comment, and Y/N put her hand against his chest and shook her head, then smiled back at Taser Face.

“Sounds like a deal. Now, why don’t you two shake on it?”

Cas held out his hand and tilted his head as the biker took it, “Are you trying to hurt my hand? Your grip seems much tighter than it should be for a common handshake.” Taser Face jerked his hand away and grunted in response, and Dean had to suppress another laugh.

Y/N looked at the shots that were lined up in front of the two men and propped a hand on her hip, her eyebrows furrowed, “We’re gonna need more shots.”

 Ten minutes later, the surface of the table had practically disappeared under the rows of shots that Y/N and Sam had procured from the amused bartender. Taser Face was looking at the ridiculous amount of alcohol with a look of trepidation, although this time it was hard to tell where he was looking because of the eyepatch that hid his left eye, and Y/N winked at Sam. At least she thought she had. If you'd asked anyone watching the scene as it unfolded, they would have told you that she was looking slightly past him and had slowly blinked with both eyes. Y/N was not quite the sly drunk she thought she was, and not all the shots they had gotten from the bartender had made it to the table.

“Okay, boys,” Y/N slurred,“there are very few rules. First, you must completely finish the shot and flip the glass upside down. Second, you cannot throw up, that's an automatic forfeit. Last man standing wins the $500. Do you have any questions?” Both men shook their heads, Cas’s eyes never leaving Taser Face.

“Alright, Cas, you start. Go!” And so it began. Cas would take a shot, Taser Face would take one, and back to Cas. This went on for several minutes, and when there seemed to be no sign of either man slowing down, Dean sighed.

Sam looked over at him, his eyes narrowed as he tried to focus on his brother. Y/N had not been the only one to sneak a couple of extra shots, if we are going to be honest. “What’s your problem?” he managed to spit out, despite the fact he'd already begun to lose interest in Dean’s answer before he'd even finished his question.

“We know how this is going to end, and I'm bored.” He stood suddenly and glanced past the crowd that had gathered around their booth to witness the spectacle. Dean grinned as he caught sight of a tall, black-haired woman standing near the pool tables. “Now, that does not seem boring.” Dean clapped Cas on the back as he pushed his way out of the booth, “Good luck, buddy.”

Cas gave Dean a concerned look, “Luck does not have anything to do with this, Dean. I am an angel of the Lord.”

Dean chuckled, “Right. Sam, make sure he-” he stopped mid-sentence when he noticed that both Sam and Y/N had moved away from the table and were up against the wall, preoccupied with what looked like an attempt to eat the other one’s face. Dean grimaced, “Gross.” He shook his head as if to clear the image from his mind, ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tame it, then half stumbled, half sauntered over to the raven haired beauty leaning against the wall. “Hello, sweetheart.” He raised an eyebrow at her and she smiled politely.

“Hi.”

Dean leaned against the pool table, smiling widely at his newest prospect. “I'm Dean.”

She crossed her arms, “I'm not interested.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, “You don't even know what I wanted.”

She smirked, “You want what every other asshole in this bar wants. And the answer is no.”

Dean threw his hands up as if he were offended, “Listen, I just wanted to play some pool and my brother over there,” he nodded his head in the direction of Sam and Y/N, to which the girl made a disgusted face, “is too busy playing tonsil hockey to oblige. You looked bored, so I thought I'd ask.”

She quirked her eyebrows in disbelief, “So you weren't coming over here to try to use some sort of bullshit ‘I'm in touch with my feelings and broken’ pickup line to get in my pants?”

Dean shrugged, “Baby, I was emotionally shattered - which turns out be kind of a panty dropper...but no, in this particular instance I was not going to use my broken, somewhat abusive childhood to convince you to have dirty, stranger sex in the bathroom.” She started to crack a smile, and Dean decided that pushing it a little further might be a good idea. “Unless that's what you want to do…”

The girl playfully smacked him on the arm and grabbed a pool cue, “You're an idiot. Rack them up. And my name is Elli.”

And this is where the night could have, and probably should have, gone differently. However, Cas was occupied with Taser Face, who at this point was mumbling about bikers having the most fun with hairy women, Sam and Y/N were occupied with each other (much more than they should have in a public area), and Dean was too occupied by Elli to notice his surroundings. If he had been paying attention, he would have seen the man at the opposite pool table watch as Dean flirted with Elli, his eyes becoming narrower the closer Dean got to her. He also would have noticed that the man was slowly but surely moving closer to the pair as Dean shifted to stand behind Elli so he could show her the proper way to handle a pool cue. Dean was about to find out the hard way that if you're a hunter, especially one as well known as a Winchester, there's probably no such thing as a nice night out.

Dean felt a sharp tap on his shoulder, and he rolled his eyes as he shifted away from the offending finger. “I'm busy, if you can't tell.” The finger returned, and he offered Elli a sweet smile before turning to face whoever it was that interrupted his so far successful pool lesson. “Listen, bozo, I don't know who you are-” he trailed off as he looked up (this guy gave Sam a run for his money in the height department, which is another reason it seemed impossible that Dean had not noticed this behemoth earlier) and swallowed thickly. “Oh, hey, how's it going-”

It seemed Dean was destined to not finish any of his sentences this evening because the large man grabbed him by the collar and nearly lifted him off the floor. “Winchester,” he growled.

Dean grabbed at the man’s arms and looked around for someone to help him out, “I'm not sure who you are, but I think there's been a mistake, buddy.” The man smiled, and a set of sharp fangs slid down over his already disgusting, yellow teeth. Dean groaned, “Son of a bitch.”

“There's not been a mistake. You Winchesters aren't exactly invisible, and I see that you're not trying too hard to blend in tonight.”

Dean nodded, “You're absolutely right, we haven't tried all that hard, HAVE WE SAM??” He shouted the last part and hoped that his brother could hear him over the music and talking, not to mention the distraction Y/N was being.

The vampire smirked, “Looks like little brother is kinda busy.” His fist connected with Dean’s jaw and he went flying into one of the other pool tables, balls clattering everywhere.

“Seriously, man?!” One of the guys playing pool complained as he grabbed Dean, who was still trying to recover from being thrown across the room, and shoved him back toward Elli and the mystery vampire. Dean struggled to his feet and wiped blood from the corner of his mouth.

“I don't even know who you are!” Dean spat, disappointed that his night had turned into yet another hunt. At least he didn't have to track this one down.

“I don't see where it matters, but the name is Mareck. Trust me, our kind don't need a specific reason to come for you. You’ve done enough.” He swung at Dean again, but Dean was ready and ducked this time. Mareck’s fist plowed straight into the man standing behind Dean, who then turned around and punched Mareck. Dean backed up and looked for an easy way out, but was soon grabbed by the original pool player who'd had his game ruined when Dean had crashed into their table.

“You made me lose $500, you son of a bitch!” Before Dean could protest, the man punched Dean in the stomach and shoved him towards the middle of the bar. Dean hurried to his feet but soon had to deck someone else that came out of nowhere at him.

“What the hell?!” He looked around and saw that Cas and Taser Face were still going shot for shot, although it appeared that Taser was a little worse for wear. Dean stumbled to their booth, “Cas, a little help here, man!”

Cas looked at Dean, his eyes wide, “I feel something. A slight tingle in my fingers. I think it's affecting me, Dean.”

 Dean rolled his eyes, “Dammit, Cas, come on-ahhh!” Mareck had found Dean and grabbed him by the collar. Dean managed to sweep his leg out and catch one of Mareck’s ankles and the vampire fell, albeit partially on top of Dean. “SAM! SAMMY, GET OVER HERE!” Dean wiggled out from under his assailant and made it halfway to where Sam and Y/N were still going at it before someone grabbed his arm.

“Listen, I am DONE….Elli, what are you-” Before he could finish his sentence, Elli punched him in the face, and he stumbled back a step. “What the hell?” He put a hand to his throbbing nose, and when he pulled it back it was covered in blood, “What was that for?” Elli smiled and revealed her own set of fangs, and Dean groaned, “Of course you are. Normally, I don't hit women, but I think I can make an exception for you.” Just as he lunged for her, Y/N appeared out of nowhere and gave Elli an uppercut that was so hard, she flew backwards and landed on one of the tables. Dean looked at her with wide eyes.

“You're welcome.”

“What-”

“Someone grabbed Sam, and when I looked over I saw that bitch coming after you, and Sam can take care of himself so here I am!” She swayed slightly and smiled at Dean.

“Now hold on a second-”

Y/N grabbed a chair, “Duck, Dean!” As soon as he dropped, Y/N swung the chair and nailed Mareck in the face. “You take care of him, I’ll get the girl!” Before Dean could stop her, Y/N was gone, rushing at Elli before she had a chance to get back up from the table. Dean turned to go after Mareck, but he was gone. As Dean surveyed the bar, he realized that the entire place was in chaos. Chairs were being thrown, people were being tossed into tables, the bartender had given up and was sitting on the bar watching the chaos. The sound of shattering glass caught Dean’s attention, and he looked over to see Sam, his chest heaving as he tightly gripped a broken beer bottle and stood over an unconscious man. He looked at Dean and shrugged, completely oblivious to what had been happening for the past five minutes.

“Sam! Vampires!”

“What??”

“Vamp-ires!” Dean enunciated more clearly.

Sam nodded and looked around, “Where’s Y/N?” Dean waved vaguely in the direction she’d gone in and moved closer to Sam.

“We’ve got to get them out of here. Got any ideas?”

Sam waved his broken beer bottle, “This is the only weapon I have on me. I wasn’t really expecting a bar brawl with vampires.”

Dean grabbed a bottle off a nearby table and smashed it on the corner, making a twin to Sam’s.

“What's this guy look like, anyway?”

Dean pointed over Sam’s shoulder, “Like that!” Sam swung around with the beer bottle, but Mareck was faster and grabbed Sam’s wrist before he could sink the bottle into Mareck’s neck.

“Sam!” Dean managed to get in behind Mareck and jammed his shard of glass deep into his throat, grimacing as the hot blood sprayed across his face. Mareck screamed, and his grip on Sam loosened. By the time Mareck swung around and managed to get Dean off of him, Sam grabbed him by the hair and began sawing into his neck with his broken bottle. Finally, with a loud and sickening pop, Sam separated Mareck’s head from his shoulders. Dean tried to catch his breath as Sam looked at him, Mareck’s head hanging from his fist.

“You okay?”

Dean nodded and wiped away blood that had dripped down his face, “Yea, you?” Sam nodded, then snapped his head around when they heard a scream of triumph from behind them. Dean immediately began to laugh when he caught sight of Y/N standing in the middle of the crowd, Elli’s hair clenched tightly in a blood soaked fist as she waved the head in the air and grinned at Sam and Dean. “Sam, marry that girl.”

Dean looked over when he felt someone standing next to him. Cas, though still upright and the obvious winner of the shot contest (Taser was laying in the floor, snoring loudly), was swaying slightly, and Dean could tell that Cas had begun to feel it. Angel of the Lord or not.

“Dean, I believe I won. The man with the beard has quit responding and is currently sleeping. He is not going to feel well tomorrow.”

Dean clapped him on the shoulder, “Nicely done, buddy.” Finally, Dean realized how quiet the bar had become. The brawl had paused, and everyone in the bar had turned their attention to the three blood soaked hunters, two of which were still holding severed heads. “We…uhhh….we should probably go.” Sam nodded in agreement and hurried over to Y/N so that he could usher her outside. Dean and Cas quickly followed behind them as Dean sheepishly waved at people as they left. “Hey, sorry about the mess...ummm...here's some money to take care of that.” He tossed the money Cas had just won on the bar and quickly exited the building.

“We need to go!” Dean threw himself into the driver’s seat and turned the key, but paused before putting it into drive.

“Dean, what are you waiting for? They're gonna call the cops, we just beheaded people! In a bar full of people!”

Dean sighed, “I realize this, but I also see like...three of the road right now. Any of you fit to drive home?” Y/N giggled and fell over onto Sam, who immediately began making out with her. Dean looked in the rearview and grimaced, “Can you not?”

Cas lit up and looked at Dean with raised eyebrows, “I can get us home. Hang on everyone.” Cas placed his fingers on the dashboard, and before anyone could ask what had happened the car dropped with a thud in the middle of the bunker’s library. Sam and Y/N looked up in surprise and Dean glared at Cas.

“Really? The library? Does this look like where the car goes?”

Cas looked at the dashboard, then to his fingers, then back at Dean, “The alcohol must have affected me more than I thought.”

“Can we talk about how Dean tried to have sex with a vampire?” Sam giggled from the backseat, causing Dean to change his glare from Cas to the younger Winchester.

“Eat a buffet of dicks. Both of you.” Dean climbed out of the car and began to stomp off to his room.

Cas climbed out to go after him, “Did you want me to move the car after I ate the bag of dicks or just wait until tomorrow?” Dean stopped mid stride as if he was going to respond, shook his head, and kept walking. “Sam, what should I do? I don't normally eat…”

Sam climbed out of the backseat with Y/N in tow and smiled, “He didn't mean...I honestly don't know what you think he meant, but that's not it. Just...leave it until tomorrow, okay?” They disappeared down the hall, which left Cas alone with the car. He looked around for a moment, then casually made his way towards the kitchen.

“I don't know why they would have a bag of Halichoeres bivittatus* here, but if Dean suggests for me to eat it, I will certainly try.”

Forever Tags!!! @trexrambling @pinknerdpanda @wheresthekillswitch @hiimaprofessionalfangirl  @emptywithout @escabell @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes  @deanssweetheart23 @emilywritesaboutdean @canadianjelly @super-not-naturall @charliebradbury1104 @rosie-winchester

Dean lets out a loud laugh but it goes unnoticed by the bustling crowd made up of probably every type of evil you’ve ever faced. “Come on, the fun’s in the back.” The fun being an exclusive poker game where money isn’t what’s at stake. You follow Dean as he casually leads the way, weaving through the patrons.

You pointedly ignore the sheet of wood hanging over the bar, with its sick version of a menu written out in thick, black marker, but you can’t escape the snippets of conversations that reach you. Some are gory retellings and others are mundane everyday chatter and it’s the latter that disturbs you the most. The third thing about the supernatural and the lives they have: They don’t get to keep them, you decide.

 It’s an embarrassingly short amount of time later that you find your hands chained to the ceiling of a stone room. A few yards away, Dean is shackled to the wall, low enough that he’s sitting down. Lucky bastard, you think as your calves strain to keep you on your toes and your weight off the tendons in your shoulders.

The room glows white with moonlight spilling in from the skylight overhead, drawing a pattern in shadows over the floor. You realise that you’re no longer in the speakeasy. Possibly nowhere near it and that the odds of Sam swooping in for an assist are slim.

Okay, so maybe, your plan to blend in wasn’t the best despite what you and Dean announced you were bringing to table. Maybe it was a bit of a joke.

“Hey, Dean,” you half whisper.

Dean grunts.

“Two hunters walk into a bar and-”

A figure steps into the circle of light. Female, dark haired, skin wrinkled and rippling as a result of having been scorched. The discoloration is cut off by a high black turtleneck. She’s wearing gloves, and boots that go up over her black jeans. The only accessory she’s sporting is a glass eye that matches her good one.

“Who wants their ass beat first?” She asks pleasantly. “And before you decide, keep in mind that I’m gradually going to get more tired, but also gradually more Berserker.”

Dean says, “Sign me up.”

“He can go first. I like my chicks a little crazy,” you shrug awkwardly.

“Besides,” Dean frowns, looking terribly sad for a moment. “I hate being picked last. Gym class was a tough time for me.”

The woman rolls her good eye and stalks over to you.

“Woah! Hey!” You shuffle back as much as you can manage on the tip of your toes. “Did we not just agree that he gets the pleasure of the first round?”

“Y’know, seeing how willing you are to get me injured is real heartwarming.”

You send Dean a look that is equal parts sheepish and grudging.

“The two of you came to the game with the Lazarus Pearl as bargaining chips,” the woman starts. “I know this. I also know they’re in your person.” She looks at you as she finishes, one beady eye focused on yours, the other just slightly off to the side.

“You evil do-ers gotta start doin’ more research. I’m the one with all the pockets.”

“I’ve done the research.” Her eye glints in amusement as it remains trained on you. “The Pearl is kept in the mind. No need for pockets. I’ve researched you too, Mr. Winchester. I know all about your history. From the daddy issues, to the mommy issues, to the people issues. The insecurity that, miraculously, hasn’t crippled you quite yet, but that happy coincidence might be because of your hero complex. And don’t get me started on this life of excess and sin. Girls, booze, deception. Still, the risks you take are calculated and walking into the back room of that quaint dive you know you were to be top of the hitlist and that made the Pearl safest with her.” She nods to you as though she hasn’t been staring you down this whole time. “Dean may be a vain, selfish, lying, and quite possibly alcoholic man-whore, but gambling is one vice he doesn’t have.”

You scoff, making sure your breath hits face, purposefully riling her up. These things that go bump in the night like to talk and talk and pretend they comprehend who people are at their core, but these things stick to the shadows and they have no real understanding of what’s in the light, no matter what day job they keep. The arrogance pisses you off.

“Dean is not selfish.”

“Yeah! Hey! That’s the only thing you want to object to. Everything she said and that’s-”

“Sorry.” You give Dean as apologising a look as you can muster.

“Cute,” the woman says. “In any case, if he’s got it, it’s torturing you that’ll get him to fess up.”

“I don’t know about that,” Dean says contemplatively. “You think so?”

“Yes, because you,” She swivels towards Dean but stays- thankfully- close to you. “Prolapsed rectum that you are - are infatuated with her, whose cobwebby old snooch, by the way, I can smell from here.”

“Hey!”

“I’m really not that fond of her.”

“Hey!”

The woman cackles, turning towards you and bending forward enough that you think you might be able to do the job. But then she’s leaning back again, out of reach again.

It has to be you who does it. It was going to be Dean back when you thought you’d be not-tied-up and playing poker. His hands are stronger- you cringe at the realisation of what you’ll have to use, now. With Dean sitting, hands shackled behind him, he wouldn’t be able to get close and that’s why you’ve both silently agreed to have the woman approach you with the very tactful use of reverse psychology (or what might just be dumb luck).

“Look,” the woman says. “Hurting you isn’t high on my priority list.” She pulls out a gun you recognise the make and model of- which doesn’t help you in any way. “I’d really rather not. It’s boring. What is a priority is the Pearl. You give it to me and I leave you and the Winchester alone.”

You purse your lips like you’re considering it.

She pulls the safety back and the click doesn’t exactly scare you but you don’t feel particularly good about how the situation is escalating. “You don’t know what I’ve been through, to get this close to the Pearl.”

You let out an unintentional laugh at the sheer irony of her words and it earns you a bullet in the thigh.

“Motherfucker!”

You grind your teeth and shut your eyes as the pain flares, hearing Dean shout your name and the sound of his chains in a distant sort of way: the echos of his words and of the clanking more so than the sounds themselves. You’ve been shot enough times that you can tell, the bullet has hit bone.

“But here’s an idea of what I’ll do.” She fires another shot, same leg but lower, cringingly near your knee but it goes through only flesh, coming out the other side bloodied.

“I have it, it’s with me!” Dean shouts, kneeling as close to you as he can with his arms bound.

The woman- Ignacia, her name is. You know because she’s been your mark for weeks.- glares sharply at Dean. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Fine,” you spit. “You can have it.”

Ignacia focuses on you again, stepping closer. “Give it to me.”

You sigh dramatically. “It’s not on me.”

Her hand shoots out and grabs the back of your neck, pulling you closer and pulling on the cuffs binding your wrists. “I’ve read the prophecy, girl. The Pearl is in the mind of all who keep it. I may not know how you came across it in the first place but I know it is locked in your brain.”

“You’re wrong. You’re paraphrasing.”

“What?”

“You must have been young when you first heard it, huh? It must have been decades ago. Somewhere along the way, you decided that what you thought it meant is what it said. That’s not how it works.”

“What are you going on about?” Ignacia scowls, tugging your hair back and the prickle of pain is almost a welcome distraction from the throbbing in your leg.

“All this time…” you continue. “And you never figured it out. I guess that makes sense, the Beholder keeps it safest that way, not knowing. Or maybe they did tell you, but you died at least once since so you don’t get to remember.”

“I have never died.” Ignacia, looking frazzled, raises her weapon again, aims for your shoulder this time. Huh, so the whole coming back to life thing isn’t as normal for not-Winchesters. Funny how easy it is to forget that. Still, Ignacia must remember at least a little about the time she died.

You hear Dean say your name warningly.

“I can tell you,” you say. “How you died. It wasn’t pretty. No no no no- I mean it. One of the grosser deaths I’ve come across. Like, a big, sweaty fireman carries you out of a burning building and you think- Yeah, okay, he’s gonna give me mouth-to-mouth - but instead he just starts choking the shit out of you, and the last sensation that you feel before you die- and you do die- is he’s squeezing your throat so hard that a big wet blob of drool drips off his teeth, and just- flurp- falls right onto your popped-out eyeball. That level of gross.”

Ignacia gets right up in your face and this close you think hers might have been pretty once. Before the flames ate it up. “Enough of this.”

“The prophecy doesn’t say the Pearl is in the mind. It says it’s kept in the head.”

It’s a herculean effort, but you manage to hoist yourself up and wrap your good leg around her, keeping her from escaping you. The gun goes off another three times and you think you get shot once, though you can’t tell where. Feels like a graze, with your adrenaline pumping like it is.

You lead with your mouth, teeth bared, and latch onto her eye socket as best you can. The good eye. The eye saved by the flurp. The one thing that wasn't swallowed by flames that night. The eye that has an energy embedded into it powerful enough to rival that of the eight billion souls on Earth.

Ignacia struggles to get away and you feel her hands burn against your skin- she wasn’t as inactive a witch as you had thought- but you latch on and before long you’re spitting the eyeball Dean’s way and hoisting yourself even higher with a pained shriek. You use both legs this time, as you choke the woman with thighs around her necks. She digs fingers into bullet holes- huh, so she got you in the hip too- but eventually her struggles cease, her hands slacken and her body follows suit. You let it drop to the ground and slump in your cuffs with a grunt.

“You fucking bit her eye out!” Dean screeches after a lull of silence.

You take a moment to assess your injuries, dazed as you are. You’re bleeding but you’ve got at least a few minutes. “Next time, remind me to get shot in the head.” It’d be less painful.

“Tell you what,” Dean suggests. “Next time, I’ll shoot you myself if it means I don’t have to watch you do that.”

You laugh a little, lids feeling too heavy to be kept open now.

“Hey, stay with me. Just ‘cause I don’t like where your mouth’s been today don’t mean I don’t want it revisiting some places.”

You wheeze and hope it sounds like a laugh too.

“Sam’ll find us soon. Any minute now.”

When did Dean become the hopeful one? You make a sharp sound and Dean hears the question.

“When we first started going out, I may have… injected a tracking device into your body.”

“You’re psychotic.”

“You bit her good eye out.”

You ignore him and say, “Werewolves are only werewolves once a month. Maybe they stand in the sun the rest of the time, Dean.” The words are mumbled but Dean makes them out. More than that, he gets it.

“She was a witch,” he reassures you. “With a ticking time bomb in her face and less than stellar track record, dropping bodies all over the place and ours were next.”

You nod a little dumbly, not pointing out that he’s conveniently skipped the part about how Ignacia never chose this. Never wanted the Eye. Never wanted her life to become one giant irony, where she spent its entirety searching for the thing she’s had all along. Never wanted to be a pawn in this big, twisted, cosmic game.

Dean watches you pass out. He isn’t too worried. Sam really should be moments away with Cas in tow and you’re losing blood but not fast enough that your death is imminent.

Dean sighs and slumps against the wall, rolling the eyeball between his fingers, layers peeling back to reveal a pearl inside. It glows, inside out, but only when he’s really looking for it. He grins, he might give you shit more often than not but damn if you don’t know how to get a job done. He laughs to himself, at his luck.

“Goddamn psychopath,” he says fondly, glancing at you for a moment before tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. That’s wherefrom I’m peering into the lives of these characters. Dean’s green eyes, in turn, peer into my soul, because that’s what Dean’s green eyes do. He says, “Hope you liked it, Nash,” and then, just because Dean is a bit of a shithead, he winks and adds, “Sweetheart.”

Boopboop:  @hannahindie @escabell @trexrambling @impandagrl @klaineaholic

You rubbed your throbbing head. Maybe volunteering to accompany Gabriel on his trip to the boys had been a mistake. They had after all done nothing but bicker and threaten to kill you both.

“-nd why should we trust you?” The shorter of the two brothers growled out.

You had missed what set off this latest round of questions. Honestly maybe leaving him dead would've been better. Death by firefighter isn't that bad of a way to go.

You closed your eyes, and let out a sigh as they continued to bicker. Only to open them moments later as someone smacked the back of your head. The terrified look Gabe sported told you it hadn't been him.

“What about you sweetheart? Why should we trust you?”

You raised your eyebrow as you hastily tried to remember his name, before giving up. You had a migraine and he was not worth that effort.

“You shouldn't trust me if you're my enemy, However, we are working towards a common goal.” You paused for a moment as the big one scoffed.

“However, you two are quickly getting on my bad side. Actually you big one, you should know-”

“Know what? That it's obvious you just tag along to be in the way?”

Gabriel's eyes widened, the boys would soon learn why an archangel feared you if they kept pushing. Instead, you let a grin spread across your face, eyes hardening.

“You should know, that the mystery spot was partially my idea.” Your voice was sickly sweet.

“Well to be more accurate Gigantor the firefighter death was my idea. And hoo boy was that funny.” a chuckle escaped, as his eyes first widened in horror then hardened and filled with rage.

“And don’t just think you were wandering around looking for Gabe without our knowledge, oh no I was there. I was making it more difficult for you.”

You knew you struck a cord as his jaw started twitching. You stood and made your way towards Gabe, at this point your head was throbbing.

“Well, sugar I don’t think they'll trust us now..” Gabriel muttered You glanced at where he was looking, the boys were in a heated discussion, voices steadily growing louder.

“You know what Darlin I have a migraine I truly don’t give a damn.”

He rolled his eyes and lifted his hand to ‘cure’ your migraine, of course, his cures usually resulted in you turning into odd colors and or breaking out into random songs.

However, the sudden shouting from the boys, about whether to trust you or not, stopped him. His hand dropped back to his side almost as if he was admitting defeat, defeat of what you had no clue.

“THEY KILLED YOU, DEAN!” Gigantor screeched

The other one, Dean now that you knew, reeled back as if shocked. Then squared up and leapt back into the ring.

“I DON'T GIVE A DAMN SAM THEY COULD FUCKING HELP RIGHT NOW!”

Interesting Gigantors name was Sam, yeah you weren't ever going to use that. Normally you'd take great pleasure in the in fighting you had caused, but at the moment it was stopping you from getting rid of your headache. As the bickering continued along the same thread you grew increasingly frustrated.

“Just imagine it Sammy, we could win against the devil” Dean sharply snapped out.

Sam’s face contorted in frustration, then he vehemently shot back.

“Oh yea I can imagi-”

“OH HOW ABOUT BOTH OF YOU IMAGINE SHUTTING UP!”

They both abruptly stopped, Gabe was staring at you shocked. Normally you kept your temper quite well.

“Some of us have headaches and only came along to offer assistance. Now if you can't get over the fact we killed AND brought back your brother multiple times then sayonara jackasses.”

You grabbed Gabe's hand and let out a gruff ‘let's go’

You smirked as Gabe simultaneously healed your headache and left. You’d probably end up helping them out anyway. Although they could show some appreciation.  

Still a handful of entries outstanding but wanted to go on & share the goodies accumulated thus far...

* ~ * Newest On Top * ~ *

.

TO HELL WITH NORMAL  -  @impalaimagining Their lives have never been “normal” but this is a different sort of creature to tackle - see how it pans out for you & the guys.

THE PRICE YOU PAY  -  @kittenofdoomage  Heavy angst, smut, unrequited love, death, boozing, humor, hope - this one’s got something for everyone. 

.

WATCH A MAN STRUGGLE  -  @littlegreenplasticsoldier It finally happened: the Winchester contingent of Team Free Will meet up with Team Archer in a furiously crazy, off-the-rails case for the ages.

THE KLUTZ CURSE  -  @idreamofhazel Have we finally discovered the reason behind Dean's innate ability to touch-and-break most anything within his reach?

JUST TAPE THEM UP  -  @itswitchcraft-not-googlemaps Oh, well-played. I do believe you have managed to make Dean blush.

CRAPULOUS  -  @butiaintgonnaloveem A tale of a hangover, a vampire stake-out that went awry, and mysterious underwear await.

SYMPATHY BONER  -  @pinknerdpanda He was trying to be sympathetic, really, he was.

DAMN THE FAIRYTALES  -  @withstarryeyes Demon!Dean learns this ain’t no storybook.

TAINTED LOVE  -  @jalove-wecallhimdean The classic story of a stripper and her hunter.

DEMON ON A TRAIN  -  @amanda-teaches A longtime wish of Dean's comes true.

CLEAN-UP CREW  -  @senselesssamii The best friends are the ones who help you clean up the bodies.

OH WHAT A NIGHT  -  @roxy-davenport The King of Hell's had a long day - but does he have a long night?

CASE OF CRAZIES  -  @fandommaniacx Get your machete ready, 'cause the reader ain’t jackin’ around.

OF THE BEHOLDER  -  @fanforfanatic Life's like poker - so look ‘em right in the eye, don’t blink, and hope Dean doesn’t fold too early.

THE KIELBASA TRILOGY  -  @uselessace Mystery Spot. Gabriel. Snark. Game on.

THIS IS WHY WE CAN'T HAVE NICE THINGS  -  @hannahindie Dean’s picked a happy hour - with the hope of a happy ending - that doesn’t quite go as expected.

SHEETS  -  @klaineaholic Proficiency in snark, sarcasm & sass may just be the most important skills to have when hunting with the Winchesters.

.

SOON.....

@kayteonline

@wideawakeandwriting

@wrenwritesometimes

@impandagrl

I haven’t personally seen this used in a challenge [at least in my circle]. It is so full of potential, from snark to sexy times to knock-your-socks-off shock. Even if you aren’t familiar with the source, the prompts are so very tasty, I can’t imagine each & every writer won’t find at least ONE to gobble up.

*** 120 Prompts!  So just one writer apiece ***     ---> YOU KNOW WHAT?? SCREW IT!  Send me THREE!!!!

But! There’s a challenging bonus at the bottom [#121] with NO LIMIT TO THE AMOUNT OF PEOPLE WHO WANT TO TRY IT! 

I’d recommend just a “scene” versus an entire fic, or tack it on to your actual entry in a weird prologue or epilogue, something of that ilk. It’s nuts. I’m not overselling the nuttiness, here. Weave some magic. EXAMPLE

Full guidelines at the bottom.

THE ONES THAT TOTALLY COULDA BEEN IN AN SPN EPISODE:

1. "Team Live Badass"? That's the best you could come up with?

2. Oh, I thought we were laughing at the dead people we set on fire. @wrenwritesometimes

3. AHHHH! The dust! It's like being shot in the eyes by a glitter gun!

4. Oh, you don't look like a whore... an idiot, maybe? Or both! Yes!      A whore-diot!  @jalove-wecallhimdean

5. --- What is this herpes business?     --- Bad joke... and a false alarm. @itswitchcraft-not-googlemaps

6. Wanna try yanking on the pipe?

7. You ass, for the love of all that's green, take me and the rabbit to the lettuce store!   @wrenwritesometimes

8. Eat a buffet of dicks.  @hannahindie 

9. --- And now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go kill some evil clowns.     --- [long awkward pause]      --- Do you have an erection?

10. You're just gonna leave him with a grenade stuck up his ass? 

11. It would be rude not to eat her pie, which I assume is not only hot, but also moist... although hopefully not flaky. 

12. Nothing can make up for almost killing me over a briefcase of what I can only assume is either plutonium or a human soul.

13. Oh don't worry. He may be a vain, selfish, lying, and quite possibly alcoholic man-whore, but gambling is one vice he doesn't have.  @fanforfanatic

14. I want it on record that I think this is a terrible plan.  

15. They say the devil's in the details... and silk pajamas.

SNARK-A-PALOOZA:

16. All I've had today is, like, six gummy bears and some scotch.  @wrenwritesometimes

17. For I am a sinner in the hands of an angry God. Bloody Mary, full of vodka, blessed are you among cocktails. Pray for me now and at the hour of my death, which I hope is soon. Amen. @butiaintgonnaloveem

18. --- Every single time we come here, we have to help you get rid of a dead body.       --- Well, you've only been here twice.  @senselesssamii 

19. Swear to god, you people make me want to pump nerve gas through the vents.  @impalaimagining

20. Why is your instinctive response to run toward explosions?  @impandagrl

21. On second thought, I very much prefer to be taken alive. Just let me clear the ol' browser history aaaand...

22. Is it murder if they were my own clones? I'm seriously asking.  @littlegreenplasticsoldier

23. I've always wanted to fight on top of a moving train. @amanda-teaches

24. I've never seen an ocelot! You guys, look at its little spots! Look at its tufted ears!

25. If this doesn't work, we just paid a hundred bucks for liquid fart.

26. Oh my god - I'm gonna die in a toilet stall, just like the gypsy woman said!

27. I swear, if you throw that computer on the floor one more time, you’ll wake up in a mental ward with total amnesia under someone else’s name!  @idreamofhazel

28. You just killed, like, ten pirates.

29. -- Grilled cheese.       -- What?       -- Grill me a cheese.       -- I'm not grilling you a cheese.   ME!

30. The Russians turned me into the unholy abomination of metal fused with flesh that now stands before you.

31. --- I swear, if anyone saw me in this awful van...       --- How could they, with this illegal-ass window tint? Dude, this van is like, rolling probable cause.

32. Not really the explosive climax I thought it was gonna be.

33. There's a zoo here?

34. What in the name of pre-paid venereal disease do you think you're doing?!

35. Are you not rampaging? I thought you were rampaging.  ---> AVAILABLE AGAIN!!!!

36. Hundred people surveyed, number one answer's still on the board: Name the douchebag who's in charge!  @roxy-davenport

37. Why would you think it's okay to share that?

38. You do realize there's a finite supply of Vaseline in the universe.

39. --- So then it's settled. We're a-go on Operation... what should we call it?       --- Dick Sledge.

40.  I saved her life! Go ask that dick I set on fire!

41. You want me to take a baby to a murder?  @impalaimagining

42. You do realize you're in huge trouble - and now I have to spend my first Friday off in forever devising some bizarre punishment for you?  ---> AVAILABLE AGAIN!

43. Have you no sense of decency? That bathroom’s like a… a war crime.

44. Hey, you awake? ‘Cause this is about to get weird. @klaineaholic

45. That's disgusting - if I wanted to look at your bare feet, I'd sneak in and do it while you were asleep.

46. Better pill up - you're assisting with the surgery.

47. --- Frickin' head's poundin', I'm sweatin' booze and my mouth's killin' me!       --- You're the one who stuffed four pool balls in it. 

48. Holy shit, you geeks are badass.   @uselessace

49. You're ruining your life, you idiot! And making it hard to drop a deuce.

50. Right, because you walked into Strippers’ Discount Warehouse and said, “Help me showcase my intellect".   @butiaintgonnaloveem

51. I've had good results with Ether.

52. Hey, will you choke me a little bit?  @littlegreenplasticsoldier

53. That stolen lemur bit one of your prostitutes right in the face and she says she can't go to the hospital because she's, quote, "tripping balls”.

54. --- Jeez, you're still taping bum fights?!       --- No, now I'm into something... darker.

55. That is my foot in your face - smell the embarrassment.

56. Oh! And, uh, by the way, try not to be unconscious for too long - it's super bad for you.  @withstarryeyes

57. Both of you imagine shutting up!   @uselessace

58. Idiots doing idiot things, because they’re idiots.

59.  --- Please tell me that's a smoke grenade.        --- Okay... it's not, though.  ----> AVAILABLE AGAIN!!!!!  :)

60. Sorry - I was picturing Whore Island.  @kayteonline

61. Somebody smells like they ate the ass-end out of a northbound cow.

62. I don't know... sometimes I think I'd like to adopt a little baby... so I could abandon it at a mall.

63. Well, he died doing what he loved - getting shot. @withstarryeyes 

64. Baby, I was emotionally shattered - which turns out to be kind of a panty-dropper.  @hannahindie

65. Now what am I going to spread on my toast? Your tears?

66. Sorry, that’s just a, uh, sympathy boner. @pinknerdpanda

67. Holy shit! Yogurt is amazing! Why have I never tried yogurt?!   @littlegreenplasticsoldier

68. Seriously, call Kenny Loggins - 'cause you're in the DANGER ZONE.  @kayteonline

69. I’m afraid the lemur got into the pudding cups.

70. I'm sorry, are you addressing me? Because your authority is not recognized in Fort Kickass.  @kittenofdoomage

71. Does internet porn know you're cheating on it?  @klaineaholic

72. No, it's too dirty - it's full of whatever alligators shit out, which I can only assume is people.

73. Oh my god! What shade is that? Crack whore red?!

74. Man, if I don't get some spaghetti and meatballs, I may literally die.

75. You used-panty vending sons of bitches!

76. Thank you both for all that you did do which, again, was nothing. @pinknerdpanda

77.  Damn, dog! That’s inappropes! 

78. If a single one of these has left the building, I will personally sew you into a canvas bag full of rats and throw that bag into the river.  @littlegreenplasticsoldier

79. Who do I have to murder around here to get this damn thing to make some ice?  ----> AVAILABLE AGAIN!!!!  :)

80. I'm sorry, what's that? I can't hear you over the sound of my deafening awesomeness.  @amanda-teaches

81. Don’t try to body-shame me, dog tits.

82. Is it just me, or does it smell like finger?

83. Ahahaha, man, you never rent a mule - ya lease that surly bastard.

84. When we first started going out, I may have... injected a tracking device into your body.  @fanforfanatic

85. And I don't want another one of your sullen whores using my medicine cabinet like a Pez dispenser.

86. Because I've been lying in scorpion piss for two hours in the sun-blasted shit-hole which is Texas, waiting for a stupid truck.

87. If I cared about what you do on the weekend, I'd stick a shotgun in my mouth and pull the trigger with my toes.  ME!

88. Punk-ass bitches!  ----> AVAILABLE AGAIN!!!! :)

89. And instead of doing my job, I was here - half-drunk and having amazing sex.

90. Well, no wonder this all went tits-up.

91. Right? And I know it sounds crazy, but I like them as much as cocaine!

92. Next time, remind me to get shot in the head.  ME!

93. You were the one yapping your head off about my damn teacup pig!

94. Who wants their ass beat first? And before you decide, keep in mind that I'm gradually going to get more tired, but also gradually more Berserker.

95. So you're not planning to blindfold me and hide me in a bomb shelter with limited oxygen and send my family cryptic notes about how to find me in a race against time for my life?

DEFINITELY CLASSY:

96. Who are you supposed to be, Topper Bottoms? Stern yet sensual skipper of the U.S.S. Rough Service?

97. You better pray to god it wasn't you who hit me. Because whoever it was hits like a little bitch of a girl, who was born with some kind of bitch of a birth defect, so that instead of a fist, she just has this tiny bitch of a nubbin.

98. I don't care! Having said that, would you please come into this dirty toilet stall and have sex with me?

99. Because you - prolapsed rectum that you are - are infatuated with her, whose cobwebby old snooch, by the way, I can smell from here!   @butiaintgonnaloveem

100. --- The thought of me dying gives you an erection?         --- Just half of one - the other half would have missed you. @kayteonline

101. I swear to god, you could drown a toddler in my panties right now. ME!

102. Stop - my penis can only get so erect. ME!

103. Can you not rub your dick in my mother's pantyhose, please?

104. --- Oh my god! You killed a hooker!          --- Call girl! She was a----          --- No, when they're dead, they're just hookers!

105. Vincent Van Go-fuck-yourself. 

106. Okay, we're off to get our scrotums waxed!  

107. --- Well, maybe you're lame!         --- Maybe you should shut your dick holster.

108. You’re a large-diameter dickhole.

109. First, see if he wants a beej...

110.  Water? Oh, never touched the stuff. Fish fuck in it. @kayteonline

111. --- Oh god, it tastes worse than it smells!         --- Man, if I had a nickel for every time I heard a guy say that. 

112. Who, me?! No! No, I've been up here the whole time, having some phone sex! Just jackin' it, on the telephone.  @fandommaniacx

113. I am literally wet with jealousy. @klaineaholic

114. Why does this chair have no seat... and WHAT IS IN HIS ASS?!  And unless it was the creepy-old-people-bondage-sex police, why would anyone break in here and shoot him?!

115. Because I have sex with actual women! My girlfriend's not equal parts the internet, a tube of Kentucky jelly, self-loathing, and a sock.  @hannahindie

116. And what part of your job, exactly, is groping my ass?  @wideawakeandwriting

117. --- Maybe you should've thought about that before you blew it!         --- I blew jack shit!         --- Name-dropper.

118. After this, I am going to go home, watch NCIS, and masturbate until my fingers bleed.   @itswitchcraft-not-googlemaps

119. --- Was that before or after you got caught fondling a teenager?        --- Well, obviously before - after, it was all French Armed Forces and dick stitches.

120. You can't put a price on good pussy.   @wideawakeandwriting

AND IF YOU ARE UP TO THE CHALLENGE:

121.   No no no no - Like, a big, sweaty fireman carries you out of a burning building, lays you on the sidewalk and you think – Yeah, okay, he's gonna give me mouth-to-mouth – but instead he just starts choking the shit out of you, and the last sensation that you feel before you die is he’s squeezing your throat so hard that a big wet blob of drool drips off his teeth, and just –  flurp – falls right onto your popped-out eyeball.

Bravery incarnate(s):  @kittenofdoomage  @fanforfanatic   @uselessace   @butiaintgonnaloveem

1. Supernatural only, please-and-thank-you [adjacent is fine, too - such as having O.C.s carry the bulk of the dialogue weight because we’re seeing the story through their eyes while, say, being hunters working with S & D or Jody & Donna or whatever your heart desires]

2. Pick your faves & any back-ups [and if you’re gonna take a run at #121] ---> shoot ‘em to me at DEAR NASH & I’ll hit you back with a confirmation 

3. Write & post your thing ---> don’t forget to tag me somewhere & use this in your first handful of tags: #Nash200

4. Have it in between June 11th - June 17th [about 6 weeks from original posting]  ---> TAKE TIL JULY!  SOUND GOOD????  ;)

5. Definitely Do: the “theme” you are most comfortable with / feel you write the best / have the most fun on - these prompts lend themselves to snark and/or sexy times, but lord knows y’all angst-devotees will find a way [that’s fine, too!]

6. Hard Pass: dom/sub; “kinks”; alpha/beta/omega; Wincest/any incest; real person fic [no Jensen/Jared/Misha/etc.]

7. Length can be anywhere from haiku to vignette to... well, keep it around the max length that you’d want to read if it were your challenge, ‘k? And don’t you dare spend more than a weekend on it - if it becomes laborious for you, holler at me, we’ll find you another prompt or you can drop out, no worries.

PS:  If you wanna stick Archer characters into the mix? Bring. It. On.

PPS: Walls of text & bulk of text not behind “read more” = An Unhappy Nash + An Unhappy Dash

P3S: And because it’s my party, if Dean is in your story and he calls someone “Sweetheart” ? If it isn’t in a jerk-face, patronizing manner, I’m gonna foam at the mouth

Your eyes popped open, sleep evading you as a plan formulated in your mind. You even had the perfect person, well angel, to help you pull it off. He even had a plan that could easily be worked to involve yours. As a vicious smile spread across your face you climbed out of bed and got dressed. It was time to make a call.

***

“Ok so let me get this straight man, you want me to kill him with a firefighter?” Gabriels asked confusedly.

“No, well sorta? Would it help if I described it as if it was happening to you?”

He sighed but nodded nonetheless.

Your eyes went to a point over his head as you started imagining what you wanted to happen.

“Ok so imagine this, you are in a building and it’s on fire. Right?”

He cautiously nodded.

“Ok so then a firefighter comes and saves you, but then chokes you to death.”

Gabriel’s face screamed confusion, he nodded along anyway.

“Then right as you die a blob hits your eye!” You finished excitedly

“So you want him to be choked to death by a firefighter and as he dies the person spits on him?” His voice was laced with confusion, not comprehending the inherent genius of your plan.

You shook your head no and made a disgruntled noise, honestly couldn’t he just read your mind and get the picture? After a moments thought the proverbial lightbulb above your head dinged.

“ No no no no - Like, a big, sweaty fireman carries you out of a burning building, lays you on the sidewalk and you think – Yeah, okay, he’s gonna give me mouth-to-mouth – but instead he just starts choking the shit out of you, and the last sensation that you feel before you die is he’s squeezing your throat so hard that a big wet blob of drool drips off his teeth, and just – flurp  – falls right onto your popped-out eyeball”  you finally said voice full of malice.

You honestly sounded like you were seconds away from maniacal laughter. At this point if he didn’t get it you’d just tell him to forget it. Luckily for him his eyes lit up with comprehension, his smile matching yours.

“Now that’s something I can do.”

***

Watching Sam try and fight against the other firefighters as Dean was choked to death brought massive amounts of amusement to you. You turned and high-fived Gabriel as Dean’s eye popped out and a glob of spit landed on it.

“Now that had to be traumatic enough to drive the point home.” He determinedly said.

“If it wasn’t I bet he really regrets investigating the ‘mystery spot’.” you chuckled out.

Tag List: @trollhunter94 @wayward-mirage @seenashwrite