Author: astrothsknot

Fandom: SPN/Buffy

Series: Imitating Angels AU

Rating: pg13, gen

Characters: Dean/Faith, Sam, John, Lily (OFC)

Disclaimer: I don’t own a TV show. Nor a tie-in book

A/N Spoilers for the novel Go Ask Malice and In My Time of Dying. It helps if you’ve read 10.16.2005. Beta by pheebs1. Faith has something to tell Dean in the aftermath of the truck smash.

Nov 1 2006

Rabbit, rabbit.

First chance I’ve had to update these last few days. I love Halloween! Candy, costumes and puking kids. Hell, yeah!

We went out trick or treating. Duncan was real happy - going out with Ricky in his little dinosaur suit, it was the cutest fucking thing I have ever seen. We cleared out the candy like cops in a donut shop sale. You can’t just give to one and not the other. He swears he got more candy than last year and he’s certain it’ll be because Ricky was there. Everyone just fucking dissolved when they saw him. Great big puddles of goo.

Lily’s not speaking to me because I let Duncan eat all his chocolate and candy and now he’s throwing up everywhere. Seriously, though, I thought Dan’s wife was going to blow up or something, “OMIGOD!!! HE LOOKS ADORABLE!! OH I GOTTA TAKE A PICTURE!” and Ricky of course, just loved it. All that attention and hugs and everyone cooing and fussing over him.

Big shit-eating grin all over his little face and a little bar of chocolate in each hand. I bet he’s gonna have chocolate in places where there’s not even places.

We got back in about 9 and he was dead beat. So I just put him to bed in his little suit - he’s totally in love with it. I’ll upload the photos tomorrow, he went apeshit when I tried to get it off him to change his diaper.

Duncan went as Harry Potter - he’s the only kid going as Harry who can actually do magic. He bet his candy against some other kid who he thinks is a total asshole that he could make the broom fly. I think he threw it, but he swears he didn’t. Of course I get the asshole kid’s bitch-ass mom demanding I make Duncan hand back his candy. She wasn’t happy when I told her to fuck off and treat it as an object lesson. He shouldn’t bet anything he doesn’t want to lose.

So, yeah, no wonder Duncan’s puking like a champ.

Nov 2 2006

Duncan is still puking. Doesn’t stop him eating more fucking candy. I guess he’s making room for it.

Dean called, just to check I was OK and to make sure that I had the cabin salted and warded. I know he’s being cautious since it’s only a year since Sam’s girlfriend was killed, but the Yellow-Eyed Demon’s not the worst thing I’ve had after my ass.

I’m still breathing.

Nov 4 2006

It’s an ordinary night - that’s always how these things start, right? I can’t…take any of this in.

Sam just called and said that they’ve been in a car crash. A truck t-boned them or something. He’s alright, but Dean and John are in a bad way. They’ll make it, he’s sure they will, but maybe I should come and bring Ricky.

He’s never said I should bring the baby before. Not even when Dean got electrocuted. The first I heard about that was about that was when they were on their way to some faith healer.

So it must be bad. Fuck.

I gotta get ready and pack up some stuff. Right. So stuff for the hospital and the diaper bag and oh shit…

***

Longest fucking car ride of my life.

***

Sam just called. John’s awake and mobile, so that’s something, but Dean’s still out and it doesn’t look good. He didn’t say anything but I’m not dumb. Stupid bastard’s gone and really fucked himself up this time…

I asked what they’d been hunting - it must have been big for them all to have teamed up, because I thought John was off trying to draw the demon away from them. John as a Momma Bird or something…I just had this image in my head of John dressed like Big Bird. I need some fucking sleep. Or a drink.

Sam started to tell me, but the coverage went out on my cell. We can put men on the moon and we can’t get universal cell coverage. Maybe those moon landings were fake. We can’t get coverage now, how the fuck did we get moon pictures forty years ago?

Nearly there, thank God.

***

Lily went to sort out a room after dropping me off at the hospital. She offered to take Ricky but I want him with me. I just need him here and it’s not just because Sam told me to bring him. He’s real and solid and none of this seems like that.

I missed Sam when we got here and the nurse directed me to Dean’s room. I told her I was Dean’s girlfriend and they just nodded and sent me to his room. My slayer-sense or whatever you want to call it was setting off alarms all through my body, but I’m in a fucking hospital, with all sorts of spooks and dead people. No fucking wonder I want to claw my skin off.

John was sitting with Dean. Jesus Christ, he was in such a bad way. He was on a ventilator and his face had this huge cut on it. I just started crying. Real bone deep sobs. I haven’t cried like that since I had that fight with Angel before I went to jail.

All I could feel was this panic, like what if this is it? He’s really gone?

And then John said - and this is really fucking weird - “You’ll get your chance to tell him.”

He wasn’t even looking at me, he was looking at Dean and yeah, how can you not look at Dean? He’s a fucking mess on the bed. I know I came back from worse, but I’m a Slayer for Chissakes! Dean’s a normal guy. Normal guys die all the time.

And then I swear to God that I heard Dean, half-pissed and half laughing in my ear, “All those fucking hunts and it’s a truck that puts me out? That’s just embarrassing.”

I told this to John and he just laughs and says, “Yeah, that sounds like Dean.” Then he got all serious and asked if he could hold Ricky. He looked so sad as he sat with him, like he was trying to record the moment. He told Ricky some story about Dean eating all the Christmas decorations off the tree when he was three. Real happy tale, he ended up in the ER cos not all the decs were chocolate.

John shot me a pointed look while he’s telling the story and I just nodded. “Thought so.”

He played with Ricky for maybe a half-hour before passing him back to me. “Life’s too short, Faith.” Then he got up to go and put his hand on my shoulder before saying, “Mary would have liked you.”

***

Sat with Sam and I got the story out of him. I was right - they were hunting something big - the yellow eyed demon who killed Mary. It possessed John and it all went to shit from there. There was some shit about a magic gun.

A magic gun.  Jesus Christ. No wonder they got their asses kicked. This other guy who Dean and John know somehow - sounds like Giles - says something big’s brewing. There’s always some fucking apocalypse in the offing. Been there, done that, got the fucking t-shirt.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” I yelled at Sam. Ricky jumped and started crying, which just made everything a million times better. “I’ve been through a fucking apocalypse! What the hell do you think happened to Sunnydale? We had an asston of slayers and we still only just made it out. How the shit did you expect to take on a demon with a magic fucking gun?”

“Well, it was better that than sitting with our thumbs up our asses!” He snarled back. Ricky started screaming, real upset. “All my fucking life’s been about that son of a bitch. Why shouldn’t we get the drop on it for once?”

“That works if you know what you’re doing. Look at what happens when you don’t.” Lily came in about then. “Want me to take Ricky? The nurses station‘s not happy about the noise.”

“Shit! I’m sorry Faith. I didn’t mean to upset him,” Sam sighs. “I’m just…so…”

I just shrugged and handed Ricky to Lily and he screamed even worse, reaching out for me. I was watching Dean, I was really hoping it was going to be like my soaps when the family arguing pulls them out of the coma. But nothing.

“If your father had let me teach you about real magical theory and practice, you wouldn’t be in this mess,” Lily said and it’s the closest I’ve ever seen a decent guy like Sam come to slapping a woman.

“Lily, just fuck off. Be somewhere else,” he actually stood up so hard he knocked the chair over and did that towering over her thing. I swear his knuckles were white, he was clenching his fists so tight. She stood her ground for a moment, but then the nurse came in and threatened to get security and throw us all out if we couldn’t keep the noise down.

Lily left then, taking Ricky with her. Sam paced the room for a bit, before pulling out his father’s journal and sitting down to read it. I could hear Ricky wailing “Momma! Wan Momma! “ all the way down the stairs. I felt like such a cunt for not taking him back to the motel, but I wanted to stay with Dean. I didn’t know how much longer I would have with him.

“Where’s John? You’d have thought he’d be here.” I said. “We could use the help.”

“You’d think so.” Sam said as he flipped back and forth through their journal. “But I guess he’s got his own plans.”

“How can you get by with just that little book?”

“We’ve managed fine so far. Besides there’s always libraries and the internet. Fair enough, they’re not the kind of libraries you’re used to with all the spells and stuff.” He paused for a moment. “Make our lives easier, I guess if we could get that kind of stuff.”

Then it’s like a light bulb went off in his head, because he sat bolt upright, before taking a list out his pocket. “Do you recognise anything on this list?”

It was just a standard list for a multi-purpose summoning ritual and I said that. “I’ve never seen this stuff in anything in a public library, only in books that the Council or other occult people have.”

“That’s what I thought. I bet that fucking bitch gave it to him.” He’s got that look like he wants to kill her again.

“Hey, asshole, you’ve said yourself, John knew a shitload of people who knew this stuff. Besides, John’s a fucking adult. If he wants to summon a demon, that’s his problem. Don’t blame Lily because your father’s a prick.” I stood up and got my jacket. “I’m going for a walk or something. I’ll see you in a while. Anyway, it‘s not like John‘s an amateur, is it?”

He muttered something and then went back to his research.

***

I guess I just wandered around the hospital for few hours. Mostly I was trying to stop that feeling where my skin wants to crawl off my body. It’s usually only like that when there’s something big around. It was so painful I just had to get out of there. I went to the chapel and luckily it was empty and it wasn’t so bad there. I called Lily to ask how Ricky was and he’d fallen asleep in the car and was fine.

She asked how Dean was, so I told her there was no change. I didn’t bring up Sam, you didn’t need to be psychic to know that she was still pretty pissed off at him. I asked her to come over after breakfast with Ricky.

I fell asleep after that and woke up with a weird pain in my neck and a weird dream where the Mayor was sitting with me in the church. “He seems like a nice boy and you have been sweet on each other for years.”

“I wouldn’t have thought you’d have liked him.”

“He’s not what I would have chosen for my special girl, but he loves you. And you love him and he treats you and little Ricky well. Sometimes you can’t ask for more than that.” He looked up at the flickering lights. “You should go and tell him now, before he finds out what John’s gone and done. It won’t mean the same to him when he finds out.” He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “You make sure that gorgeous little tyke of yours drinks his milk. These early years are important for the teeth and bones.”

I woke up knowing I had to get to Dean now! So I bolted along that corridor to hear Sam yelling for help. Dean had come around!

As far as I can gather it was some kind of miracle and Sam’s dancing about all happy but I just felt really fucking terrified for Dean. Doesn’t fucking help that John’s nowhere to be found. I can’t talk to Dean because he was away for the next hour and a half getting this scanned and that x-rayed and when he came back Sam and the doc’s with him and I needed to say it to him in private.

Then I get a call from Lily, she’s got Ricky downstairs and can I come and get him, because if she sees Sam, she’ll knock him into next week. She didn’t laugh when I said I’d pay to see that. I got Ricky from her and told her about Dean, she just said, give him my best, but she wasn’t coming up. She’d maybe see him when his guard dog was gone.

I got up there with Ricky and all hell’s breaking loose. John’s collapsed and they were working on him, but it made no difference - he was gone.

John fucking Winchester’s gone.

I…he must have known, when he was playing with Ricky what he was going to do.

He must have. It’s the only thing he could have meant when he said I’d get my chance to tell him.

***

With one thing and another it was the evening before I could get in to see Dean - they were keeping him in another night, just to be sure. Sam had gone to the motel to sleep.

So I took Ricky with me to see him. He was just staring out the window. “Dean? I can go if you don’t feel up to it.”

He turned around and saw Ricky and he smiles, really smiles. It was lovely to see something break through the closed look on his face. “Hey, Champ, you come to see me?”

“You can hold him, if you want,” I said.

Dean had his arms out for him and thank God, Ricky went straight to him. He’s fascinated by Dean’s stitches on his forehead and laughed when Dean kept going, “ouch!”

“Daddy all sore?” Ricky said and Dean just stared me in shock. He’d got this look in his eyes like I betrayed him somehow and he can’t cope with this on top of everything else.

“Really?” he breathed and he sounded…fuck, I don’t know. Not good, anyway.

I just nodded. Dean said nothing, just hugged Ricky close. “I gotta tell Dad…”

Then he remembered and he’d got that look in his eyes again.

“John knew, if it helps,” I heard myself say. It’s stupid, even as I’m saying it, but hey, John told me himself, life was too short. I gotta get this bit out before anything else happens. “Dean, I want us to be together, Life’s too short to fuck around.”

Dean closed his eyes and held out his other arm to me and hugged me close, so close that I thought he was going to bust my ribs. I climbed onto the bed and I’m laying in it with him. He was murmuring something like, “Why today? All this time, so why today?” but when I asked him, he denied it.

I don’t know how long we stayed like that, but I think we must have eventually fallen asleep. I don’t know if we’ll make it, but you gotta try, right?

Author: astrothsknot

Fandom: SPN

Rating; PG13, Gen

Characters: Sam, Goddess and an brief OFC

Disclaimer: I don’t own a TV show. Includes two Clive Barker quotes

A/N Companion piece to Thrice-Raised Man. Just how did Sam get Dean out of Hell? pheebs1 beta’d

The ritual’s complete and for a moment, nothing happens. The smoke curls upward and the flame dies, the afterimage burned into his eyes as he looks at the wall.

He blinks. The afterimage should have cleared by now, but it’s still there, a white spot on the wall that grows larger. It fills the room with a soft white light. He’s dimly aware that he can’t hear anything from outside the room, or indeed, within it. Not the clock, not the steady breath of the girl in the bed.

It’s a tunnel, in the wall and leading off into the distance. A woman in white clothing walks down it, almost gliding. Sam scrambles to his feet.

Her voice is musical, filled with laughter, as if these are trifles for her and she’s only come for her own amusement. Not so far from the truth for something this Ancient.

You called me. I came, Sam, she says as she walks around the room as if she’s viewing it for purchase. She picks up the girl’s oddments here and there.

“You know me?” Sam doesn’t move. An odd calm fills him, the same feeling he always gets when he realises that this moment, this time out of time will be pivotal to the rest of his life. One way or another.

We all do. We admire your attempts to subvert your destiny, while your actions draw you ever closer to it. She’s still stalking the room. It’s dark, only lit by street lamps through the drapes, but he can see her clearly enough.

“I can’t open the Gates.”

Nor shall you. She puts down the ugly doll she’s holding and looks directly at him. It does not suit our purpose.

“I can’t open the Gates without you! I can’t get him back without you!” Sam hisses, Heaven knows why, no one can hear him in this space between tick and tock. He resists the urge to grab hold of her and shake her till she sees how much he needs this, needs his brother back beside him.

And if you could? Would you march into Hell for him? She comes to stand in front of him. There’s no mocking or scorn in her voice. She is merely stating the facts as she sees them. Committing once again the sin that laid you so low?

Sam takes a deep breath. “I’m not giving up. If you can’t help me, I’ll find someone who will.”

Every man is his own Mephistopheles. I’m no different. She’s begun to pace around him and Sam feels the skin on his back crawl.

“What? Ask. Ask and it’s yours. Just…” His voice trails off and he fights the urge to turn around with her. She’d knife him for the fun of it.

The point of Temptation is that the goods be worth the price. Her voice is close to his ear, he can feel the air she doesn’t have to breathe skimming his shoulder.

“My so-?”

Soul? What use do I have for souls? Souls are for the living. There’s disdain and …pity in her voice.

“Then what? I’ve nothing else to offer.” Sam turns his head enough to catch sight of her.

There will come a time when I shall ask something of you.

“I’ll do it,” he says, instantly and without any thought.

It will be done. The Thief gave you a name. She will do the rest. She tugs briefly on the amulet that Dean used to wear. This or the ring?

Sam unties the thong and drops it into her waiting hand. “When will I know that he’s free?”

Find the one Thief spoke of. She’s already passed from the room to the tunnel.

Sam yells after her, pounding the wall with his fist. “How will I know he’s free? Tell me, Goddammit!”

He rages at the wall, even as the spot diminishes and the clock begins to measure time one more and the woman in the bed wakes.

“What’s wrong?” She asks, groggily, a little afraid suddenly of the guy she’s brought home, that the air of danger she found so sexy might actually be real. She pulls the covers around her as she shrinks back against the headboard.

Sam ignores her as he gathers up his clothes. She doesn’t ask again, but breathes a sigh of relief when she hears the door lock behind him and the roar of the black car as it drives away.

Author: astrothsknot

Fandom: SPN

Rating: PG13 for disturbing themes, Gen

Characters: Sam, OFC

Disclaimer: I don’t own a TV show.

A/N How Sam might get Dean out of Hell

Countess Marie inspects the bones from where she sits. They’re clean, reddish stains indicating where muscles once clung. Her face is impassive in the jarring electric light.

He stands opposite her, the bones between them. “Can you do it?”

She gets up and walks around them. He does not step back, withdraw from her space. Her skirts brush his jeans, filthy with the soil that he’s dug through and his t-shirt is rank with the sweat of his labours. “Not afraid of hard work. You come straight from the graveyard?”

“Yes.” His voice sounds hoarse, like it hasn’t been used for a while.

“You get right to the point.”

“I don’t have time for anything else.” Countess Marie can feel the frustration and anger under his unreadable countenance. It’s an aura that stands out like armour from his body.

Worse; she can hear the hope.

“Pandora was cruel. She didn’t let hope get away,” says the Countess. “I can do it.”

He relaxes, a little. He stands upright, almost militarily so, but he doesn’t seem as tall as she’s heard. “How’d you hear ‘bout me? Just curious.”

“Bela Talbot.”

“Before or after she died?”

“Before. We burned your rabbit’s foot and she shot me.”

Countess Marie nods. “The body complete?”

“Dean’s all there.” That slight release that came with the news she’d do it has gone. The armour has returned. “What’s the price?”“A favour.”

“What do you want me to do?” No hesitation. Countess Marie knows that whatever she asks, at this moment, he will do.

“Not now. In the future.” She looks at the bones before her. “What I bring back, won’t be who left. He’ll have seen horrors.”

“I can live that. Bring him back.”

“You might be able to live with it, but can he?” She looks him straight in the eye and he doesn’t flinch. “How many times has he been raised?”

“What?”

“Brought back from the brink.”

“Twice. Reapers, both times. What do you need?”

The Countess nods like it’s something important, before rapping on the floor with her heel. The shifter walks into the room, terrified and not really managing to hide it. There’s something like awe on its face when it sees the bones.

“The Thrice-Raised Man,” it whispers, dropping to its knees.

“I’ve brought everything I need,” she tells Sam, as she takes a knife from her bag and slits the shifter’s throat.

Author: astrothsknot

Fandom: Buffy/SPN

Series: Imitating Angels

Characters: Sam, Lily (OFC), Dean and Faith

Rating: PG, Gen

Disclaimer: I don’t own a TV show.

A/N For Gigglingkat - what were John, Lily, Faith, Dean and Sam doing two weeks before the pilot? John’s isn’t here - he’s getting a whole month to himself in a separate fic. Dean/Faith beta by azephirin

Sam

Fire

Sam shocks awake and it takes him a minute to realise it’s way-overcooked bacon and toast that’s wafting through the apartment and into his dream. He’d laugh at it, safe in the morning light, but the bright sun has chased the mares away. He’s left with only the impression of the dream. The substance has flown.

“Sam! Breakfast!”

Jess kisses him as he sits at the table. She tastes slightly sour with morning breath and coffee, but Sam doesn’t care. He’s not much better himself. She sets very crispy bacon and black toast down in front of him.

“C’mon, honey, you can’t work out on an empty stomach.” She always looks amused when she cooks, like she’s daring him to eat it.

“That’ll be one good thing about staying here, if I get good LSATs,” Sam says as he reluctantly forks up some toast, smothering it in the egg that’s so undercooked he’s sure a fluffy yellow chick is cheeping around the small kitchen. “I’ll still be on the track team. I won’t have to start from the bottom somewhere else. I won‘t have to find another job, either.”

“Like that would happen. I still think you should get a passport. You could make the Olympic selections if you got some international experience.” Jess turns to go and get coffee when she walks in front of the window, backlit by the sunlight streaming through it.

It halos around her, like she’s aflame and it makes him catch his breath for a moment. She’s beautiful, almost unearthly in that instance as the sound of wing beats swish through the air.

“What is it, Sam? You look like…I dunno, weird.” Jess moves and the moment is lost as the swans fly past the window to the river.

Sam shakes his head, dispelling the image and the feeling of unease that’s crept in. “I guess I’m just nervous about the LSATs, Law School and this championship coming up. If I do international meets then I’m going to have to get another job to fund them and try and work out something with school.”

“But Sam, think about it. Beijing. You’ll never get that chance again.” Jess pours Sam some coffee. He blows on it to hide his little smirk.

He’s got something better than Beijing up his sleeve. Sam saw it in a jeweller’s a month ago when he was running his tri-weekly 10K. He’s been putting something away on it each week and he’s hoping to have it paid for by her birthday in three months’ time.

Yeah, Jess is miles better than Beijing.

Lily

“I can’t see it against those rocks,” says Lily, scanning the side of the hill. “I can see a couple of wolves from the Glory Hill pack, though.”

“See the limp on that big male?” Joe Straydeer, her boss, points at the injured wolf. “I can’t see teeth marks.”

“Maybe he fell or the phantom ibex got him. You want to get a team out here?”

“Nah, cause more harm than good if we got the vet to check him. We’ll see how it goes; maybe get a team out here.” Joe lowers his binoculars, takes his bearings for where they’re supposed to be headed. “I’m telling you, there’s an ibex around here.”

Lily hefts her backpack up onto her shoulders, grimacing at the flare of pain in her hip. “I want some of what you’re smoking.”

“You don’t need anything to smoke. I’ve seen what the doc’s got you on. Get sharing.” Joe heads off over a steep rise, setting a fair pace.

“Fuck off, I need all the help I can get.” It’s an effort and she’s leaning very heavily on her poles, but Lily keeps up with him. “I’ve got a fucking Scary Sleepover this weekend. 20 hyper, spoiled kids and their asshole parents.”

“Terrible shame about that environmental conference in Berkeley. You’ll be freezing your ass off with the hope of the future and I’ll be sunning myself with the lovely ladies of San Francisco.”

“It’s at Stanford, dickhead and just make sure they are ladies.” Lily checks her map. “That rock fall should be a mile over there.”

They walk on in silence for a while, mainly because Lily’s in more pain than she’d like to admit.

“You scared the living shit out the parents last weekend.” Joe says eventually. “This ridge goes over the path.”

“Yeah, but it‘ll be loose from the landslide. And how high were my ratings? They love me.” She snorts. “I give good camp fire.”

“Yeah, you do know how to tell a tale. Maybe if you didn’t you’d be going to Stanford and I’d be telling kids about ghost towns and prospectors.” Joe looks at her for a moment. “Just don’t tell them about Hook-hand Jack again.”

“That’s my best tale!”

“I got a complaint from a parent yesterday. Says she’s been seeing ole Jack in every mirror in the house.” Joe stumbles on the snowy path.

“Damn, more’s fallen than we thought. I think we’ll have to close this trail off and get an engineering team in come spring.” Lily takes some photos of the ruined hillside. “It’s not my fault her kid’s impressionable. They’re warned it’s a Scary Sleepover and not for nervy bastards.”

“No, she’s been seeing Jack. Not the kid. What the hell‘s that then?” Joe’s pointing triumphantly at a tan, stocky goat on the other side of the path.

“It’ll be a goat or deer or someth-oh.” They’re close enough to see the huge curled horns sprouting from its head as the ibex regards them with mild curiosity, before sauntering off into the snowy trees.

Dean and Faith

“Christ! I’m coming! Keep it down!”

The hammering on the door doesn’t stop even as Faith’s opening it. She’s trying hard not to smile as Dean’s standing there, fucking huge teddy bear and a doggie bag from some diner in his arms. The snow’s blowing around him and into the cabin, but neither makes any move for a moment.

“Hey,” he says, shyly, as if he’s unsure of the reception he’s going to get. He’s shivering, even through the army jacket he’s wearing.

“Hey,” she replies, pulling the blanket closer around her, like she’s protecting herself from…something.

“I’m getting cold, Faith. Can I come in?” Dean falsettos as the bear.

“I guess,” she says, trying to sound uninterested, as if guys showing up in the Asscrack of Nowhere in the middle of the night is a regular thing. Actually, around here, it pretty much is. She moves back to let him in the hall. Dean gives an involuntary shiver as he comes into the warmth, nearly the dropping the bear and the food as he tries to pass them to her.

“Boots off,” she says automatically, even as he’s already doing it. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Dean can hear plates clacking and buttons being pressed on the microwave as Faith reheats the food. “How long will it be?” he calls softly. He’s looking down the hall towards one of the closed doors, with the teddy bear poster on it. Dean takes a quiet, careful step towards it, then another…

“About five minutes,” she replies, appearing in the kitchen door. “Come into the living room.”

Dean follows her into the room with its roaring fire, taking in the new toys and the pile of cardboard, wrapping paper and envelopes next to the fire, the cards proclaiming Happy 1^st Birthday and Now You Are One! “He did well?”

“Yeah, he did OK.” Faith picks up the Jennifer Cruise novel she’s been reading, carefully putting the marker in. She’s tense, like she’s waiting for him to start up That Argument again.

Dean simply nods, makes a show of looking at the cards that cover the furniture. For some reason, one in particular catches his eye and he picks it up, recognising the plain writing and the sparse Happy Birthday without a signature.

The microwave pings and Faith goes to get the food. Dean searches through the pile of envelopes until he finds one that matches the handwriting on the card. It’s postmarked Jericho. There’s a terse note as well, telling Faith to watch her and Ricky’s asses as November 2nd is coming up. Oh, and there’s a thousand bucks in the belly of the rabbit. It’s written in Latin, so it’s not likely that a casual reader would understand and make off with the money.

Dean tosses them on the fire just as Faith comes back through with the plates and cutlery. She’s seen him do it, but says nothing, just hands him his plate with a half smile. “Sit down, you’re making the place look untidy,” she says, trying for casual, but it comes out as choked. Faith’s not the best actress, can’t help but wear her heart on her sleeve.

Dean’s not much better, but he’s got more practice at putting up a front. But Christ, it’s hard with Faith and she’s the one person it shouldn’t be hard with. She’s the one person who actually gets him and this gulf between them is killing him.

“So, what have you been up to?” Dean asks as he sits. He chooses the same sofa as Faith does, but up the other end. He‘s still shocked she let him in, especially after what he‘d said to her the last time he‘d seen her. “Tell me about Ricky’s birthday.”

“Ha, dude, you should have seen it! He gets all this shit and what’s he doing but playing with the paper!” Faith’s face lights up as she speaks, all the tension just falling away from her. “He kept picking it up and scrunching it and laughing his ass off when we made a ball outta one really big piece. We were throwing it up in the air yelling BADOING! and he was killing himself.”

She pauses while she forks up more of the food Dean’s brought. “I don’t know how I’ve got room for this. I ate so much cake and candy today.”

“I love a girl with an appetite,” smiles Dean.

“Hey, life’s too short to spend it miserable,” she mumbles through the food in her mouth. “Got to the point where we’d just yell Badoing! every so often and he’d start giggling. You know that giggle? Right from the stomach.”

“Yeah, I know that giggle.” Dean leans back in to the comfortable sofa. “Sam’s favourite word was crocodile. He was laughing so much once that he fell off a table in a diner and banged his face. Took a chunk out his nose.”

“That explains a lot,” snorts Faith, before saying carefully, “We videoed some of it. You want to see it?”

“Sure,” Dean replies, equally carefully. The laptop is on a low table between the room’s two couches, right next to Dean. He sets it on his lap, clicking on the files Faith tells him to. A dark haired, green eyed baby boy reaches up in his crib to the camera, big grin on his face at seeing his Momma, as she coos Happy Birthday, Ricky! Wanna see your presents?

Faith scoots closer to Dean until she’s pressed right against him. Her body relaxes into his as she points out who gave Ricky what and silly little things he’s doing. She glances up to Dean as she talks, smiles crinkling her eyes every so often.

It’s hard to believe that this adoring mother is his Faith.

No, he corrects himself. Not his Faith. Most definitely not his Faith. And certainly not his Ricky. Ricky was her baby and everyone else could go shit in a hat.

Even though she’s slid against him so easy and it feels right, like that’s just where she should be. He chances a quick look at Faith and finds she’s out for the count, wrapped up in the blanket.

Dean quickly emails the footage of Ricky to himself before turning the computer off and setting it aside. Faith’s head drops onto his lap and she snuggles into him. Like they’re a real couple.

He carefully pulls out his wallet, taking a letter from it. The letter has the address of a clinic in Seattle.

Dear Mr Curran,

Dean looks at the letter for a long time as Faith sleeps on his lap. He wishes that he was still talking to Sam; he would have been able to figure this out. But that horse has long since bolted.

That’s the deal breaker for Dean. If he starts up the argument again, he’ll be tossed out of Faith’s life and this time, she might not let him back. Who knows? Her denial of his paternity and their way fucked up relationship might be the only thing that’s kept them alive so far. John wouldn’t have been warning them about November 2^nd without good reason.

Dean gives the letter on last look before he scrunches it up and tosses it on the fire. If that’s the price he has to pay for being part of their lives, he’ll pay it and happily. Until the day comes when Faith decides that life’s too short to spend it apart.

And if she never does, then this will be enough.

It has to be.

Author: astrothsknot

Fandom: Buffy/Supernatural

Rating: NC17

Pairing: Dean/Faith

Disclaimer: I don’t own a TV show.

Dean’s made it to 30. Faith spoils her man. <lj-user=“pheebs1”> welcome home present. Even though she had to beta it. Now, woman, more Petrafic!

“Jesus, Faith! This place…you didn’t have to,” Dean gasps when he pulls up the Impala in front of the hotel steps.

“Sure I did,” she replies, grinning at Dean’s face. He looks like he’s catching flies. A uniformed valet rushes to open Faith’s door and another waits to open the trunk for their bags. She smiles as she gives the man her hand, getting out the car like she’s a lady.

Dean eyes the guy suspiciously as he holds out his hand for the keys.

“Is this all Sir requires moving to his room?” Asks the valet, there’s an emphasis in his voice. He’s accidentally knocked the weapons shelf open.

Faith destroys her lady-like demeanour by doubling over in hysterics at Dean’s face paling when he realises what the guy means. “N-no, the bags you see are fine. Be careful with my baby.” His voice becomes gruffer as he recovers himself. “One scratch on her…”

“Sir, we’ll treat her like the Queen that she is. She’ll be perfectly safe and so will any valuables left in her.” Dean reluctantly passes the keys to the valet.

“You can tell it’s a real up market hotel,” he says to Faith as they go to check in.

“The staff are really polite without being superior,” she agrees. “Reservation for Wilkins.”

“I could walk in there dragging a corpse, drenched in blood and the worst they’d say to me is to enquire how much plastic I’ll require for my victim‘s disposal.” Dean’s stuffing his face with the mints in saucers on the counter, winking at the girl behind the desk.

“If sir’s hobbies include homicide, the night desk will be happy to assist you,” she says, straight faced. “If sir prefers other pursuits, I’ve a brochure of theatre, cinema and the arts.”

“Thanks, but we’re fine for tonight,” Faith replies, making to walk away. “C’mon, we’ll get changed and go get something to eat.”

“Yeah, ok,” mumbles Dean through another mouthful of mints as he follows her. They don’t get far before he runs back to the counter, smiles at the girl and runs off with a full saucer of the sweets.

“Fuck knows how Sam’s not killed you yet,” snorts Faith.

***

The band’s on a break so Dean’s using the gap in the music to go to the bar. It’s really busy tonight as the band playing are building up quite a rep. People are getting jostled and the doormen are quick to help settle any fraying tempers.

Faith watches him, not jealous, merely observing as he flirts with the bar girl and she with him. Notes Dean’s easy smile, the eyes undressing her as they speak. He’s leaning over the bar, playing with the bottle that she’s put in front of him, invitation in every line of his body. She sees his lips move as he speaks to the girl, endearments, innuendo, it doesn’t matter. The words don’t matter, it’s the way his lips shape the sounds that count.

If she really wanted to hear, she could. It wouldn’t take much to tune out the rest of the bar, home in on the voice she knows in all its guises.

The bar girl says something outrageous that has Dean blushing and bobbing his head a little, eyes crinkling at the corners. He’ll have laugh lines, eventually. He leans further over the bar, his shoulders forming a little enclosure around himself and the girl, blotting the rest of the world out.

Dean changes position slightly, resting one foot behind the other. He’s dressed much the same as the other guys in here tonight, jeans, t-shirt, shirt, boots, but he wears it better. It’s funny, you can’t really see his body under his clothes, just impressions where sleeves wrap around biceps or drape across his back. Even his ass is hidden under the long shirt.

Doesn’t matter, Faith knows it’s there. It’s like a secret that only she knows about.

The bar tender has put another beer down in front of Dean and she’s writing on a napkin. Dean takes a moment to turn round to Faith and wink.

Faith’s never jealous. She never needs to be.

The band’s got a bluesy vibe to them, all long summer days and smoky, boozy nights. Faith’s really here for Dean, she prefers something that she can dance to and blues isn’t really her thing. But the band’s not that bad and it’s worth every cent of the cover price for Dean’s birthday. He’d seen them when he was working a job and hadn’t shut up about them so, here they are.

Thirty. Fuck, neither of them thought they’d see it.

Faith can’t see Dean; he’s pressed up against her back with his arms around her waist and her shoulders, swaying them both gently in time to the music. Even through his tank and his shirt, she’s aware of the outlines of his body, knows it’s wide enough to shield her from view. Faith cranes her neck a little to see the bartender glaring at her. She gives a contented sigh that draws a kiss from Dean as she settles back against him.

***

It’s late when they get back to the hotel, too pleasantly tipsy to notice the cold or the marks they’re leaving on the cream hotel carpet.

“Hey, tickets wasn‘t all I got you” says Faith, pulling a slim package out from their duffle bags. “I know it looks like Ricky’s had a go at wrapping it.”

“Something else? Killer, you’ve already…” His voice trails off. “It’s not sexy lingerie, is it? Cos, I was hoping you’d be in that.”

“Lingerie? Wouldn’t suit you. Take your damn present; it’s taken me six months to find it.”

Dean takes the proffered parcel, opening it carefully. It’s a CD of rarities by Muddy Waters.

“I was going to get you the cassette tape, but I figured that this way you can put it on your phone.” Faith smiles up at him and tosses her hair back, squaring her shoulders. “Or make your own cassette for the car.”

“It’s perfect.” Dean cups her face and kisses her gently. “Today’s been perfect. Only thing that could make it better is you in that corset and nothing else.”

“Soon fix that.” Faith’s hands go to her waistband.

“No.” Dean’s hands over hers stop her. “Not like that. Put the CD on. I want to dance.”

“You want me to strip for you?” Faith murmurs against his lips. She twists her hands in his so that their fingers are intertwined, hands held like they’re about to start dancing.

“Not this time.” Dean replies, dropping one of her hands to put the CD on the player. He turns back to Faith as the music slinks out of the speakers. It hugs the floor and the dark corners of the room, like it’s something dangerous.

She moves into him as his arms slide around her waist, pulling her close to him. “Dance with me,” Dean murmurs into her hair. His voice is throaty after the smoke of the bar and it makes her breath stutter. They sway gently together at first as they find their rhythm, hips swivelling, as they begin to catch the riffs, bodies dipping in time to the music as it soaks through their skin.

Faith’s hands are free to run over Dean’s shirt, tracing the muscles underneath. She smiles a little as he shivers when she hits the overly sensitive skin of his stomach. Her hand slides up to the nape of his neck and plays with the hair there. He’s growing it out slightly and it’s soft around her fingers.

“Stop fucking teasing, Faith,” he growls a little. She knows he’s impatient, wants her to touch him fully. He’s been hard since they began dancing. Tough shit, she thinks. He’ll just have to wait.

She grinds into his hips as he tightens his grip on her waist. “Different story when you’re makin’ me beg,” and her other hand drops to his ass, squeezing the hard muscle there.

“Yeah, but I’m the guy,” he says, Texas accent coming to the fore. “I’m supposed to drive you wild,” and the smirk on is lips is positively wicked. “Why else do chicks have pleasure buttons?”

“So we can test out the batteries on our vibrators.” Faith begins kissing up Dean’s throat and snorts as she feels him try to control his reaction. She glances at him as she sucks his lower lip briefly, seeing the crinkle around his eyes even as she feels his dick twitch through two layers of denim.

She kisses down the other side, moving out to his collarbone, swivelling her hips against his. Dean’s tense, but still keeping hold of himself as she writhes her body against his like he’s the pole and she’s the dancer.

Dean breathes deep and it stutters out of him as she traces her hands over his ass. One of his hands leaves her waist and he pulls out his wallet. One handed, he flips it open and pulls out ten bucks, stuffing the paper down Faith’s bra. “You getting undressed anytime soon?”

“Magic fingers and I’m still dressed?” Faith tuts as she drops to her knees in front Dean. She runs her hands slow and firm down the back of his legs. “Besides Sweet Lips, it’s your birthday. Now shut up and let me work.”

“If you’re sure,” grins Dean.

Faith stabs a fingertip into a pressure point in his thigh and his leg nearly goes from under him. “Oh fuck…” His dick’s got harder against his thigh and he’s tightening his fingers in her hair. She bites gently along its length as she keeps kneading the backs of his legs; rocking into her too-tight jeans, trying to get the seam just right against her clit before it burns a hole right through the fabric.

The litany of filth Dean’s murmuring above her isn’t helping her cool the fire any. It’s almost as bad as if he’d a rough finger rubbing there, the way it hits her sending shivers down her spine. Scratch that…shivers over her whole fucking skin. She’s desperate to get him on that bed or against that wall and feel all of him against her, up tight against her skin, all big and wanting…

And it’s in that damn cowboy accent…“Faith…yeah, there…Faith…”

The way he says her name in bed - never an endearment, not baby or sweetheart or honey - always Faith, like she’s a whole person, complete in herself, always hits her right in her stomach. She’s all she’s got to offer.

She stops nipping his dick and takes hold of his belt in her teeth, pulling it free of the buckle. Dean moves to help her and tries to smile when she bats his hands away. He settles for pulling off his shirt, “Just movin’…things along here,” he says, voice stuttering. From the look on his face, he nearly lost it for a moment.

Faith leans back to pull the pin free of the leather and that’s when her seam catches right…hhnnn…she’s so gone that it just explodes, fingers cutting into Dean’s hips as she comes with that stupid high - pitched noise she hates making, but he seems to love. Dimly, through the heat racing over her skin she feels Dean kneel in front of her, one hand in her hair, the other sliding between her legs, pressing the seam right into her, up into her oversensitive clit.

Faith yelps and tries to stay his hand, but her limbs feel like jello. They won’t fucking move right. Dean presses harder and it’s almost hurting, but her hips have a life of their own as her head drops onto his shoulder and his voice growls in her ear. “C’mon Faith…grind down, down on my hand, you wanna feel that again, right Faith? Let’s feel you move, you’re gonna come, Faith. Not gonna let you touch me again till you come harder.”

“Birthday…” She manages to whisper, but Dean shushes her as she’s doing what he’s commanding her to do. “Then give me what I want, let’s feel you move, feel you come. Do it, Faith. Come for me.”

This time it’s harder, blotting out everything but Dean as she grips his wrist so hard she’s doesn’t know how she doesn’t break it. She’s got no control as her vision shorts out and her body spasms against his. Just as well she’s already down, cos there’s no way she’s standing any time soon as the waves flood over her and her heart pounds in her ears.

Shit, she’s floating. She’s got to be. Another tight wave hits right through and Faith gives out that moaning sigh as she slumps against him. She can feel Dean brushing the hair from her face and he’s looking at her like he does sometimes, when he thinks she’s not looking. Like she’s a statue in a church or something.

He takes his hand away from her jeans and pulls her up over his lap. He moves slightly and it catches her painful clit, making her sob, for fuck’s sake. Dean grins slightly as he holds her close, grinding his hips up into her. It’s an effort for him, she can tell, because his jaw’s set, with a muscle working in it. It must be terrible, watching her come and he’s got to wait. Because he’s the boss, cos he’s got a dick.

Yeah, right.

It takes Faith a superhuman effort to push strength into her crumpled limbs and find her voice between Dean’s hard, desperate kisses. He’s trying too hard, she thinks as his tongue rubs the roof of her mouth, before sliding under her tongue. He can’t settle in one place and work on it. He breaks off every so often, kisses over her face and throat as his hands work her back. There’s a shake in them, she’d stake her life on it.

Jesus God, he’s working her back up. She’s not coming again until she’s undressed, she’s decided. It’s supposed to be his birthday, not hers. Somehow she takes her weight back on her knees, taking some of the pressure off her poor, besieged little clit. Her hands work open the rest of his belt and his fly, fumbling so much she’s surprised she actually does get his dick out his boxers without breaking it.

Things are connecting up again over her body as Dean’s kisses get even harder, raw, messy desperation behind them. Faith’s hand strokes his dick, once, twice and then he’s shooting between them, slicking their movements. He grunts into her mouth, biting her tongue hard enough to draw blood. Neither really notice.

It’s Dean’s turn to slump against her, panting hard. “So…think you’ll…new…batteries in…your vibrator?”

“Rechargeables,” Faith giggles. “You’re…all crashed out…rechargeables don‘t crash out on a girl.”

“I got more in me yet,” Dean smiles into her ear, voice rumbling through her body. “Get on that bed, woman!”

Faith gives a brief laugh, before admitting, “I don’t think I can get up. I can’t get my legs to work.”

“Means I’m doing my job then,” he replies as he gets to his feet, before bending down and picking her up. She wraps her legs around his waist and kisses him slowly and sensuously as he carries them to the bed. Dean lays her down gently, covering her as they kiss. They haul off their clothes quickly, resenting anything that keeps them apart. He hesitates a moment when it comes to Faith’s corset, taking a moment to drink her in as she lies in his arms. “Off,” he murmurs, fumbling with the hooks and eyes. “I need to feel all of you.”

It takes them longer than it should, because they’re still pretty drunk and they won’t stop kissing or giggling or swearing. Faith sits up, trying to unhook it from behind her with Dean reaching round, but she’s in his lap and she’s pressed up tight to him and he’s breathing and cursing against her neck. She squirms against him, feeling Dean’s breath catch and quicken as the lace scratches over his skin. Faith can’t get enough of him and there’s suddenly just this aching space between her legs that needs him there because there’s just some things that hands on skin and breasts bound in lace can’t match.

Faith didn’t think she’d be ready to go again this soon, Slayer or not, but it’s Dean, around her and against her and they were always something special, one of the great ones. That last orgasm’s kicked her into some weird plateau where she’s ramped up and desperate to be fucked, but not sure she could take coming again from her clit.

She tries to guide his hands there and press his fingers up into her, but he always pulls away at the last minute, skimming his hands back up her body and over the lace as his tongue swirls along her collarbone. Oh, my fucking God…no human should be able to get someone that worked up with just his mouth and his hands. Even that beautiful, dirty, mouth licking lightly over her jaw, sucking her lips till they feel too swollen for their skin. They’re throbbing like a second heartbeat, in time to her empty cunt. Faith drops a hand down, pushing her fingers deep inside, scrabbling for the place that makes her sob-sigh.

Her own fingers feel wrong, just don’t cut it and she’d plead for his rough fingers teasing her, but her pride stops her tongue; even when her skin wants to crawl off her bones, it’s so fucking sensitive to his touch. And Dean won’t let up touching her.

“Christ, Dean how many hands have you got?” Faith doesn’t realise she’s spoken until Dean pulls his head back slightly, watching her with that damn statue-in-church look as she gasps and grinds down on his lap, onto his half-hard dick. His hands don’t settle anywhere, constantly tracing patterns as they travel over her back and ass, making her squirm against him. He’s not even touching her tits, but they’re heavy and swollen as they crush into Dean’s chest as she writhes.

There’s something else behind that look in Dean’s eyes as Faith moves against him, something dark, speculating, and predatory. She’s seen it before, when they’re hunting and it trips all her switches as it hits the hunter inside her. God knows how she does it, but there’s purpose behind the way she’s grinding down onto his cock.

The way Dean has them sitting, he’s forced her legs apart, holding her cunt open as she moves, soaking wet along his spent dick. Except he’s not spent now as each stroke and slide of her pussy along his cock gets him harder. He’s not fully erect yet, but he’s on his way and Faith’s desperate now to get off this fucking plateau.

She grinds down on him, slipping her inner lips along his length as he gets firmer. Dean could help, by holding her ass down so she could get more pressure where it’s needed, but he seems to settle for doing what he was already doing, all restless hands and sucking mouth.

Christ, he’s driving her nuts and it’s not helping that every now and then her clit hits off his dick, making her jump and squeak with the shock of it. She almost thanks God that she never really came with many other guys and demons because she really doesn’t need it common knowledge that the Dark Slayer squeaks when she comes.

She feels it slightly after Dean does, that he’s hard enough again; ready to fuck her through the mattress. Dean makes a small motion, like he’s trying to push her down on the bed, but Faith resists. “It’s your birthday,” she murmurs when he glances at her. “Let me do this.”

Dean smiles as he kisses her like he’s been doing. “Not broke, don’t fix it?”

“Something….ohhh!” Dean flexes his hips, just a little, but just enough to nudge at the opening of her cunt and hell yeah! if that’s just what her throbbing pussy’s been begging for.

“Dance for me,” Dean says and it’s only then that Faith realises that the CD is still playing. She’d been aware of it, but it had got lost in all the sensations shorting out her brain. Maybe they’ve been moving to Muddy’s beat all along.

Faith begins to gyrate slowly, more like a belly dancer than a stripper. She’s careful to keep the head of his prick inside her as she circles her hips for a minute, first one way, and then the other.

Dean holds her close, like he’s reluctant to lie back and watch her, losing that contact with her. “I want to look at you,” Faith says, voice cracking, but she really, really wants to be able to dip down over that sculpted torso and drop kisses on it as she glides up to his mouth.

He slowly lies down and Faith feels cold and lost as he moves away from her. She covers by dropping her pelvis slightly, more driving into her as Dean jerks up, hands convulsing sharply into her hipbones. “Shit, Faith…” he breathes as she recovers the motion, moving into a body wave that juts her breasts out as her hair brushes his fingers before her hips push his dick deeper inside of her. She moves as slowly, dragging out this first entry into her for as long as she can.

Dean tries, she knows he tried simply because she asked him to, but he sits up as she gyrates against him. His hands are resting where the movements of her body are greatest, as she switches from a body roll to a figure eight when Dean’s finally all the way into her. The shift draws a grunt from Dean as Faith shimmies up and down his dick, using the verses and choruses to time her movements. Faith smiles against Dean’s mouth when her hip bumps make his kisses pause, even though he’s bitten her lip again.

She jumps every time her clit bumps Dean’s pubic bone. Having him inside’s getting off that fucking plateau and back climbing again as she feels her pussy catching back alight - not that it was ever out, but someone’s turned that heat up from burning to molten.

Faith’s lost track of time, even judging by the songs, but she thinks she’s managed to get round the album twice. She pulls her head away to drink Dean in when he’s this far gone and on a day neither thought they’d see, no matter what deals they made or powers they entreated. He’s got that church look again and it’s making her lose her rhythm. She can’t keep up the deliberate movements much longer.

Dean picks her up, hands under her ass and somehow gets them both up against the wall at the top of the bed as Faith once again wraps her legs around his waist. It’s either fate or sheer talent that he gets them there without slipping out of her. A roll of his hips to get her in all the right places - including her still-sensitive clit - and Dean begins hammering into her, that damn look on his face all the while. His breath’s hot on her face as their gasps get louder and faster as they move closer to coming together.

They can’t take their eyes from each other and there’s nothing there that isn’t pure Faith and Dean, with all the jokes and games and competition washed away by the feel of their bodies together.

Muddy’s forgotten now as that molten wave crashes through her, over her skin. Dean’s all she can hear and feel and see as she cries out his name; that’s all it takes for him to explode deep inside her. He comes so hard, he knocks her head off the wall.

They sit there, wrapped up tight in each other as the pulses fade away. Their breath comes in great, shuddering gasps, like they’ve fought the mother of all battles. Faith pulls away first, not enough to really make a difference, just enough so she can run a hand over his face and through his hair, like she’s checking him for injury, not really believing they’ve made it.

Dean kisses her palm as it passes her lips. “We’re here,” he says, waiting for her to complete the bond.

“And that’s enough.”

“Can we get our presents when we go in, Sam?” Duncan asks, all excited to be getting so much when it isn’t even his birthday.

“I wanna pay on the PayDation first!” Yells Ricky, bouncing around the seat of the truck as Sam sorts himself out.

“It’s warm out, right? I just need a t-shirt,” Sam mutters to no one in particular before checking his teeth and his breath. He takes off his overshirt. “Sure you can have your stuff now. That’s what it was bought for.”

They rush into the house yelling about who’s doing what first as Sam walks into the kitchen. The yelling’s got louder, if anything.

“I hate kids,” Sam grins ruefully as he sits down at the table, straddling the chair as he does so. He leans forward so Lily can see his biceps bulge against his sleeves. “They are so mercenary.”

She bites her lip as she sets down a cup of coffee in front of him. “It’s your own bloody fault. You should never give in to blackmail. Especially not from a nearly four year old.”

“I wouldn’t have to, if someone would just let me come clean about why I’m sleeping in Lily’s bed,” Sam complains, but he’s laughing with that wide, genuinely pleased smile he gets when he’s really happy.

“She’s cold? That was the best you could think of?” Lily snorts derisively, but she’s looking at Sam like a dieter on a hamburger.

“It was short notice and it wasn’t that much better when you told him you were hot and that’s why you’re sleeping naked.” Sam gets up and for no reason other than he can, he bends down to get the tub of cookies out the lower unit.

Well, that and the fact that he knows damn fine his ass is tight in the denim and when he turns round they’ll have slid to show his hips and the start of the arrow that points to heaven as Lily calls it when she’s running her tongue along the muscles.

“Well, he caught me on the hop.” Yep, she’s horny. It’s only been two weeks, but he knows that look and that voice.

“We wouldn’t be on the hop if you’d just come clean about us,” Sam sighs dramatically, glancing into the next room. “You’ve made a liar of me.”

“Aw, protecting my honour? Don’t worry, I don’t have any.” She slides into his arms like she’s meant to be there.

“I’m glad you said it, not me,” he chuckles as he leans down to kiss her. It’s quick and playful. His expression changes briefly and there’s concern under the laughter. “You ok now?”

She nods. “Lie in did me good. Take out must have been dodgy.”

“Funny how the rest of us were ok.” Sam’s not convinced. “Must just be one of those things.”

“Must be,” Lily agrees as she cocks her head in the direction of the living room. A car game drones from the TV. “They seem busy through there.”

“They do, don’t they?” Sam’s wicked grin is back as he sits Lily on the table and starts pulling down her pants.

Kathleen stands under the water when she’s finished showering.

What the hell have I done?

She could lose her job over this. I need to get out of here

She comes out the shower, ready to make excuses, ready to flee.

But Dean’s made them both coffee and there’s some kind of sandwich from the diner over the way. She can see their wrappings in the trash.

“Thought you might be hungry before you go running out into the night,” Dean smiles, but there’s an edge in it. Like he’s hurt, but expecting it.

She feels shitty, because she knows that tone. Used to feel like it herself when Mark used to treat her like that when he was cheating on his wife.

No one should be made to feel like a whore.

“Thanks,” says Kathleen, pulling out a chair at the dinette. “I’m starving.”

“Hey you earned it,” Dean’s relaxed now. “Anyone you wanna call? Daughters, maybe?”

“I’ll call Anna, tell her I’ll be home in a little while.”

Dean nods, not pressing the issue.

“But there’s no rush.” Kathleen sips her coffee. “I think, tomorrow night, I’ll leave her money for pizza. I like pepperoni.”

She catches Dean’s eye.

“I’ll have some waiting.” He grins and it’s like sunshine

Author: astrothsknot

Fandom: SPN

Rating: PG, Gen

Characters: Sam and his daughter

Disclaimer: Some of this is mine. Some of this isn’t.

When she is eight, Jess Scott stands over the injured body of a wolverine while her Daddy takes out a hunting rifle out from the trunk.

She listens to its laboured, wet breathing and kneels down, reaching for it. Comfort it, because it’s hurt and cute and she’s a child.

It happens too fast for her - the beast snapping for her reaching hand, the pain of slamming against the hood. Her head’s snapped back and she’s hit it off the truck. She bursts into tears - she’s only eight.

Daddy’s gentle voice rumbles through his chest and she feels it more than hears it as strong fingers check the goose-egg at the back of her head. The same strong fingers slip under her chin and force her to meet Daddy’s blue-green eyes.

She’s too young to know what’s in them, as he tells her, in his deep, gentle voice that reads her stories from books that smell weird and in writing they don’t do at school, what she’s going to do. Daddy crouches down, hand huge on the side of her face and explains it to her - not like Mommy, who’d have towered over her, snapped at her and would have grounded her not doing as she was told fast enough.

Being Weak, Mommy calls it in a voice that makes plants wither, at least Jess thinks it does. She hates it when Mommy speaks like that to her.She remembers it, twenty years and a world away, gun in hand, silver bullet chambered, when she’s standing on a vampire who’s pleading for his life, he didn’t ask for this, he can’t help it, he can’t feed on animal blood, his Daddy never took him hunting or bought him a train set.

It’s always something.

Daddy snapping back the bolt on the rifle, handing it to her and waiting. She’s knows what she’s supposed to do, it’s not the first time she’s shot a gun. But it was an accident, they didn’t mean to run over the wolverine, shouldn’t they get him to a vet, like Bobby had when Cheney had been run over?

Honey, if there’s a heaven for the merciful, we won’t be in it.She knows what he means now

Author: Astrothsknot

Fandom: Supernatural/Buffy

Series: Imitating Angels AU

Rating: NC17 for sex and language and sex on a period

Pairings: Dean/Faith, Sam/Lily (OFC)

A/N Sam and Dean make a drunken bet about who can make their girlfriends scream first in bed. For weesta’s birthday. Beta by the lovely missyjack

 “I don’ care what an’one says,” slurs Dean, pointing at the porn flick playing on the TV. “That shit ain’t normal. But her films were mas..master…works of art.”

“And you’d know this from your s-stensive research?” Sam giggles as he falls off the bed. He passes the bottle of Southern Comfort over to Dean as he tries dialling again. “They’ve taken t’phone off the hook. An’ I’m jus’ getting’ voicemail. Can’t even have phone’sex. You hid the key, right?”

“I swall’ed. We’re not goin’ be doing an’thing stupid an’time soon and it’ll be worned off by then.” Dean drinks some more. “I pleasured the ladies of this fine country for - Christ… how does she do that?” Dean has a hefty swig. “I fucked a lotta chicks and none’ve ‘em could do that. I’d’ve foun’ ‘er if…yeah, I’d’ve foun’ ‘er.

“I don wanna know how y’ate t’ key. Ever. Fucking succubuses. An‘ their possessed vibrators. Why‘re we watchin‘ porn? Never wan‘ to see porn again. Ever.” Sam stares at the TV. “How many’s she got in there now? I-I’m loshing…wossit called?”

“What’s what called? An‘ innit succubi?”

“When you add shtuff up? W’your fingers.” Sam waves his fingers, then looks at them for a moment. “Mine’s not working anymo‘. Dean, my fing’s are broken. No…I got extra ones. They‘re too new t‘work.”

“That’ll be it. You’d never’d fucked the porn stars anyway, even if we din’t have women an’ you’d have made sure I never’ve…‘ve fucked them either.” Dean waves the bottle round as he makes his point. “Cockblocker.”

“I coun’t get laid if you were around, cos they only came on to me to get to you.” Sam nods, reaching for the bottle. “So’s it your own fault.”

They’re interrupted just then by overly loud screaming from the TV.

“Wow,” says Dean. “There’s no way a human could do that.”

“My fingers ‘re still not workin’,” says Sam. “An’way. You’re easy to get into the sack, slut. But I bet I’m better.”

“How’d you figure? Minute ago you were whining that you never got laid. Gimme the bottle, s‘my turn.”

“Quality, dear brother, not quantity.”

“You soun’ed…almost sober,” says Dean, admiringly.

“I did, din’t I?” Sam says proudly. “I’m goin’ bathroom…”

Dean waits for a moment, before hammering on the door. “Hey, Sammy! Wanna put mon’y where your mouth is?”

There’s a pause before Sam answers. “I’m lis’nin’.”

“You think you’re such hot…s’hot shit an all, lets have lil’bet. Shit, Sam, ‘r’ you pissin’ for ‘Lympics?”

“Wass the bet, Dean?”

“I bet…I bet tha’ I’m better in sack than you.” Dean tries to take a pull from the bottle, but it’s empty. “It’s all gone…Why’s the Scotch aw’ways gone?”

“How you gonna prove that?” Sam asks as he opens the door. “We’re gon’ have to see which one screams first an’ that’ll…ll”

It’s lost as Sam rushes back into the bathroom to throw up.

***

“Christ, are they calling us again?” Groans Faith, as the muffled trilling of the phone comes from the kitchen units. Ricky settles into her on the sofa as they watch Deadliest Catch. He‘s eating some disgustingly bright candy. “How many boxes is it in?”

“It’s in the box with the washing powder,” replies Lily, taking her cell from underneath the sofa cushions and checking the voicemail for a minute. “Some of this is probably quite erotic, if it wasn‘t in Gibberish.”

Faith turns up the sound on the TV. “Fucking succubi. Should have let us do it. Sig or Edgar?”

“Edgar, definitely. Oh! Bet that hurt.” Lily winces as Edgar Hansen gets knocked over by a swinging crab pot. “Poor Norman gets no love.”

“Momma?” Asks a small voice.

“What, sweetie?” Asks Faith, absently. Sig’s on. How’s she expected to concentrate when Sig’s on? “Eat your candy before Daddy gets back and eats it all.”

“Wass a mucking muccubi?”

***

It’s two days before the brothers turn up, still a little worse for wear and more than a little anxious

“Christ, it’s alive,” says Faith as Dean lurches a little through the door.

“Can’t you answer a phone? We’ve been shitting ourselves all the way over here,” Dean snaps, relief coming out as annoyance.

“Hi, Killer, how are you and the kids? Oh, we’re fine.” Faith opens a unit and pulls out some Tylenol and Pepto-Bismol for him. “We’ve lost the phones. Ricky buried them in the woods. He had a little funeral and everything.”

“And you fucking let him?” Dean takes the medicines from her.

“Dude, we were trying to watch Deadliest Catch.” Faith turns round to watch him, arms crossed. She’s got that smile on her face again, the one that makes like everything is one huge joke. Often seen when she’s about to kill something.

“And Sig Hansen is more important than my peace of mind?” Dean’s never sure if that smile makes him want to kill her or kiss her.

“Your peace of mind can go shit in the woods. Mine is way more important, ‘specially when you’re hopped up and horny on succubus juice.” She tilts her head up to him as he moves closer. “I got nothing against phone sex, but you could’ve had the real thing. Jesus, Dean! You ain’t getting any from me till you’ve showered!”

She ducks under Dean’s arm, wrinkling her nose as his cell starts ringing.

“We’ve been driving for two fucking days straight because someone can’t answer a goddamned phone! What?” He demands irritably of the fuckwit on the other end of the line.

“Dean? Could you come and pick up your brother? He’s frightening the tourists.” Lily’s got this deadpan delivery. Sometimes Dean’s jealous of it.

“How come he’s my brother rather than your husband at times like this?” Dean sighs wearily.

“Because right now? My boss has a shotgun on him.”

***

“So, this bet? Still on or what?” Dean says over the pool table at Weesta’s Bar. He hits the red hard and it thunks down into the pocket. The white comes to settle behind a triangle of reds. “I think you’re snookered.”

Sam considers for a moment, before smacking the cue ball hard into the cushion, enough to ricochet it off the opposite cushion, twice, gently kissing one of the yellow balls scattered around the table. “I’m up for it.”

Weesta brings over another two beers. “Whatever you boys are planning, it’d better not involve my bar again. It took a week to get that damned genii out my whiskey bottles.”

“Aw, come on, Weesta, it was funny seeing Earl Ray go through the week with asses ears.” Dean grins. She gives a half-smile back as she trots off to wipe some tables. “So, Sammy? Getting our good ladies to express themselves in the throes of passion?”

“Swallowed a dictionary?” Sam swigs some of his beer. “First to get a scream inside a week scores.”

“And you say I’ve a got a way with words.” Dean holds out his hand.

Sam shakes it firmly. “Done.”

***

“We gotta have some kind of rule, though,” says Dean as Sam’s truck pulls up outside the cabin. “Otherwise, how we supposed to know who’s won?”

“I’m not watching you screw Faith,” Sam replies firmly. “How about - if it’s loud enough to be heard in the other rooms, it counts?”

“I can live with that,” nods Dean. He leans across and picks up the mail package from the trucks’ back seat. “They’ve been on T-shirt Hell again?”

“Mine’s got herself that fairground clown one. Says it’s so she can get some sleep,” Sam says in disgust.

Faith’s got the curtains drawn back in the living room window, casting a soft glow over the mud. “Yep, they’re definitely planning something. Can’t you come over here and read their lips or that mind trick you got going with Sam or something?”

Lily turns over a page in the book she’s reading. “No. Not since I came across the lesbian three-way in his head with that chick from the Pussycat Dolls tryouts. I thought you had super hearing, anyway.”

“Lesbian three-way? Huh and I always thought Sam was so quiet.” She drops the curtain and races to the kitchen. “I’ll get it out of him.”

“Get what outta who?” Dean asks as the brothers come in. Faith’s sitting on the table, swinging her legs.

“How much you really love me.” Faith’s playful smile is back as she catches Dean’s belt loops as he tries to pass her.

Dean laughs, it‘s an old game. “You’re hungry? Can’t I get my boots off first?”

“No. I‘m fading away to nothing here.”

“Let me see what’s in the fridge.” Dean unpeels Faith’s legs reluctantly. They‘re bare, she‘s only wearing panties and one of his t-shirts. “Can’t have my Killer starving.”

“I think there’s some ground beef,” says Faith, peering over his shoulder as Dean investigates the fridge. She’s tight against him and he can feel her tits through the material, rubbing his back.

He pulls it out and kisses her as he turns around, holding the beef as he tastes her. It’s full, deep and he’s hungry for more than supper, before Faith breaks away. Dean hands the meat to her, before going to the units for the rest of the ingredients. “Spaghetti bolognese or chilli?”

“Chilli.” Faith goes to pull a pot down from the rack and manages to bring another two crashing down behind her.

Dean just rolls his eyes before picking Faith up by the hips and placing her on the counter next to the cooker. “I’ll cook, and be sexy. You sit there and stroke my ego.”

“Just your ego?” She says with that wicked grin.

“While I’m cooking, yes!” Dean says firmly, leaning in for a kiss. Faith’s mouth is warm and inviting. He wonders for a moment if there isn’t some succubus venom still running round his system as his tongue slips against hers. He breaks off as the beef begins to spit in the pan, stirring it round as it starts to brown. “Peppers.”

“Shall I get the tortillas?” Faith asks as she jumps lithely down from the counter, handing him the frozen peppers. They spit and steam as they meet the hot pan.

“Yeah. Can I trust you with a can opener?” Faith, smacks his ass, hard. “Hey, not while I‘m cooking!”

“Cheeky bastard. I can take out a squirrel’s eye from fifty feet. I think I can open a can of tomatoes.”

“Faith, you can’t even get a pot down without killing them. Now, tomatoes ple…you’re not funny.” Dean’s words falter as his woman slips both hands around the front of him, pressing right up close behind him. She’s even grinding her hips into his ass. He swallows as she holds the tin of tomatoes over the sizzling pan, opening the can slowly, pouring it in carefully and gently, in time to the movement of her hips.

Dean tries to ignore her as her hands move up under his t-shirt, running over the ridges of his stomach. He can’t help the shiver that runs all through him as Faith palms his nipples. He tries to concentrate on stirring the chilli, making sure the beef and the sauce are mixing together, coating each other…

…but the pungent smells are heady and Faith’s pulling his t-shirt over his head and suddenly he’s painfully aware that’s it’s been ten days since they’ve been together and when Faith starts on his belt buckle, that’s it. Dean drops the spoon and pushes her back against the fridge, hands in her hair, on her tits, roving all over her body. She’s like heat where she’s pressed against him, burning where her body’s tight to his, as if she’s searing his flesh.

Molten where Faith’s hands skim over his back, her legs twined around his, as she rocks against the thigh he’s got between hers. It doesn’t take Dean a second to haul off the t-shirt she’s wearing. He makes a muffled cry into her shoulder as her hand finds its way down to his balls as his jeans pool around his ankles.

Well, Faith didn’t give him the chance to take his boots off.

She plays with his nuts, massaging them around her palm, as Dean bites and mouths his way around the sharp angles of her collarbone. Faith makes that weird high pitched noise that does when she’s really turned on and he’d grin if his mouth wasn’t sucking on her tits. He’s rolling it round as he sucks it full, lips clamped tight like it’s giving out whiskey or something.

Faith pushes Dean back, not letting any balls drop as he hobbles backwards towards the big pine table in the corner. Dean lies back on cool wood, shivering as his skin’s slightly chilled while Faith climbs on top of him. He’s a little light headed from all the smell and heat in the kitchen. There’s something forming in the back of his mind, but Faith’s pussy chases it all away as she sinks down onto him. She’s leaning right over him, hair falling over his face and Dean’s kissing her like there’s no tomorrow, hand in her hair, the other gripping her thigh, bruising the solid muscle.

Faith’s rolling her hips, tight, smooth along his cock and Dean’s always shocked by how good she feels around him and how much he’s missed this. It’s almost worth going away for. There’s nothing playful about Faith now, just rawness and passion and need and Dean and it’s all mixing with the spices and heat and…

“Jesus Christ! Faith, get off! The pan’s on fire!” Dean rolls her off and tries to get to the flaming pan of chilli, forgetting that his feet are hobbled. It’s too much for Faith and she screams with laughter.

“Faith, open the fucking door!” He yells as he waddles urgently to the door.

She collects herself enough to open it. “You’re still hard! Ah-hahaaa! It‘s like a little wobbling soldier! Heeheehee-hahahah! You‘ve got a Weeble for a dick!”

Dean can’t help it, flaming pan and all. He looks down and promptly trips out the back door with a yell. Someone up there really doesn’t like Dean tonight, because the commotion has brought Sam and Lily running in. They look between Faith hyperventilating on the floor and Dean lying ass up in the dirt.

“D’you want to count that one?” Sam asks, in all seriousness.

***

“This isn’t fair, Faith. You should be the one up here scrubbing.” Sam waggles the cloth at her mock accusingly.

“Aren’t I lucky you’re such a gentleman,” Faith giggles back. “Now get back up there.”

“Enjoying the view?” Lily passes Faith some popcorn as she comes back from the living room loaded with shade cards and juggling the phone. “Just get another tub of Spring Apple White then.”

“What the hell colour is that?” Dean demands tinnily from the phone.

She waves a booklet of paint at Faith, who taps a few colours. “It’s a really light, greeny-white. Sort of like the light part of a green apple.”

“The assistant’s just shown me seven different colours that look like that.”

“Well, just tell the bloody assistant you want Spring Apple White.” Lily pauses as Faith holds her finger over another shade of light green. “Pick up some Pacific Wave for the woodwork. Hang on, put back the Spring Apple colour. I want Mint Whisper for the walls.”

“So you want Mint Whisper and Pacific Wave? Final answer? Don’t want to phone a friend?” Dean asks sarcastically.

“No, wait. Ocean Ripple for the woodwork and I’ll do one wall in Irish Linen. Put back one of the Mint Whisper tubs,” Lily says as she glances at Faith, who nods before going back to watching Sam‘s ass. “And don’t forget, you owe me a new pan.”

“Irish Linen isn’t even green!” Protests Dean, exasperated. “Why the hell are you even decorating now?”

“My kitchen looks like there’s been a fire in it,” Lily says, pointedly. “Oh, wait. There was.”

“Irish Linen, Mint Whisper and Ocean Ripple, right?” Dean says something to the assistant that they can’t catch. “Do we have painting stuff?”

“I’ll go check,” says Lily, sending another appreciative gaze at Sam’s busily scrubbing form. She bites her lip. Their perving isn’t lost on Sam, who winks at Faith before announcing loudly, “Damn, it’s hot in here!” and stripping down to his bare torso.

“C’mon, Sammy! It’s really hot in here. Get it all off.” Faith catcalls, reaching into her pocket for her wallet and pulling out ten bucks.

Sam throws his shirt at her and laughs as Lily comes back in. She pauses for a moment and swallows. It takes her a moment to speak and when she does, her voice is shaky. “Get dressed, Sam. You’re scaring the birds. Ooh, popcorn”

Sam just smiles to himself and carries on washing down the walls, well aware that Lily’s turned on something awful. He starts to contort himself into positions that show off his physique, work his muscles. It’s almost like her eyes are burning a hole in his back.

Faith’s noticed and she’s not above a bit of teasing herself. “Hey, Sam, there’s a bit you missed all the way over there.”

“Above the window?” Sam stretches over to reach, twisting a little. He can feel the muscles in his back shift, biceps lengthening and shortening as he scrubs the wall slowly, sensuously. “Back here?”

He casts a quick glance over to Lily, squirming in her chair, as if Sam’s touching all the right places, hands on her back and not the wall. She catches him watching and goes an adorable shade of pink. Then she actually shakes herself before snapping, “Get scrubbing!”

***

“Dean says he’ll start with the primer tomorrow after work,” says Sam as he pours the dirty water down the drain. “It’ll take at least a couple of hours.”

Lily’s looking round the kitchen and nods. “Looks cleaner already.”

“Did I miss anywhere?” Sam asks, voice doing that bass-and-barbed-wire thing that usually has her weak at the knees. Lily doesn’t even look at him. Considering he’s been priming her all afternoon, she should have had him on the kitchen table already. The cooker’s off, so they’re safe.

He leans against the sink, watching her. “What’s wrong?”

“Period’s started,” Lily replies, glumly. “And I was looking forward to having my wicked way with you.”

Sam strokes her cheek, sliding his hand around the back of her head, before pulling her closer to him. “So?”

“You know I hate the mess and -” Sam leans down and kisses her. He feels her hands settle on his chest and it’s almost submissive. He kisses her a little more forcefully before pulling back, leaning his forehead to hers. “Sheets’ll wash and so will we.”

Sam starts walking her backwards, kissing along her cheeks, down her throat to her shoulders. His hands start running along her back, as if they’ve got a life of their own.

“Don’t walk me into a wall,” Lily jokes.

“I won’t,” whispers Sam as he begins to drop gentle bites on her collar bone and the muscles of her shoulders. It’s one of her triggers and right away draws out a strangled cry. Any louder and it would have won him the bet. He smiles a little as they reach their bedroom, falling on their bed.

It doesn’t take them long to get undressed, Sam stops her as she’s about to take off her panties. “Wait,” he murmurs, turning Lily round, feeling her breath hitch under his hands as he guides her to where he wants her, spread and open over his lap. The backs of gentle fingers ghost down to her clit, circling lightly and she jumps against the pressure, gasp loud enough to echo around the room briefly.

He moves his hands in long sweeps over her hips and inner thighs, enjoying the way she grinds down on his dick. “I’m gonna lie you down, bring you off like I’ve seen you do yourself,” he rumbles in her ear. Lily puts one of her hands over his and guides them up her leg to her pussy, flat against her thigh. Sam carefully lays them down on their sides, facing the mirrored wardrobe, so they’re spooning, his cheek resting atop hers. Lily tugs on his hand slightly; it doesn’t take Sam long to get the to and fro motion of hips and hands rubbing against her clit.

He starts off watching her in the mirror, seeing the familiar expressions sweep over her face. But the closer she comes, the more he wants to see it live, propping himself up over her body slightly, watching the flush start to creep over her breasts. He pulls his hand free just before she comes, wanting to keep her on that edge. He turns her back over to him, tearing her panties off and throwing them in the trash. Sam wastes no time in entering her. She’s tight, but it’s an easy slide, despite Sam’s size and he’s glad of that, because he doesn’t want to spend any more time on foreplay. Lily’s legs are entwined with his as she meets his thrusts and she’s making that broken cry as she writhes against him. Sam‘s lips don‘t muffle the sound, they’re busy mouthing her pulse point.

“I always forget that your skin’s really sensitive when you’re on,” he murmurs in her ear and he rolls slightly so that Lily’s back and ass are lifted off the mattress. Not much, but enough for him to slide a hand where it needs to go. Sam can’t thrust in this position, but he doesn’t need to. His hands and her skin are going to do it all for him.

He runs an experimental hand over her waist, chuckling when Lily jumps and gasps. “Shit, Sammy!”

“Where next?” He trails his fingers down her ribcage and across the small of her back, before moving the flat of his hand up her spine and resting it in the back of her neck. She twists and jerks against him and it’s a new sensation for his dick, the random movements of her hips. The look on her face is utterly desperate and he’s not sure he’s ever seen her this turned on.

Her broken sighs get louder as his fingers spiral down to her ass and over her thigh. It’s become a challenge for Sam to bring her off without touching the obvious areas. He stays away from her breasts, her cunt, just relying on his cock deep inside her and his hand teasing along the crease of her ass.

Sam doesn’t kiss her much; he’s too busy watching her face, the way Lily’s hair’s spread out over the pillow, veiling her face. It’s fucking glorious and it’s only matched by her expression when she comes. It rockets through her body, to judge by the way she tenses and nearly pulls his hair out.

He gives Lily a few minutes to come down, enjoying the tremors running along the length of his dick, before he turns them over, so she’s back under him again. This time it’s Sam’s show, as he pounds into her, strong and hard, kissing her the same way. Any noise they’re making is lost between them and it’s not too long before Sam comes as hard as she did.

They lie there, gently kissing as the danger in the touch goes, Sam staying on top, keeping Lily trapped there, until she grimaces. “Sam, I’m sticky and I bet the bed’s a mess.”

Sam gives her a final kiss as he slides out of her. “You start the shower, I’ll sort the bed and join you in a minute.”

Lily starts giggling when Sam stands up and he looks down. “We look like an episode of CSI,” he grins. “Shower.”

He gathers up the sheets, when Lily really starts laughing. “Oh, God, Sam. Your ass! There‘s two perfect bloody handprints on your ass!”

Sam’s deep bass laugh can be heard all the way along the hall to the laundry basket.

“Keep it down!” Yells Dean from the living room. “We’re trying to watch TV in here!”