The fanfic reader’s lament.

#mood

EXCERPT - Chapters Eight & Nine: The Chapel Incident (Parts 3 & 4)

Super (ha, see what I did there?) huge thanks to @carryonmycobaltangel for her feedback & encouragement, she rocks my face off.

Crowley pulled himself out of his thoughts, as she'd apparently had enough of Dean's bold attitude and stepped almost into his personal space. She was eyeing him a bit sternly. Taking advantage of her re-positioning, Sam moved closer to Dean, not wanting his brother to take on the full measure of whatever came next.

Again, a handful of impatient words - a question.

Why will you not speak to me?

Dean and Sam waited on Crowley to translate, watching his brow furrow as he concentrated.

Crowley, head still bowed, thought he'd venture out onto a proverbial limb, try to take Dean's suggestion, interspersing a bit of English with the Enochian. After he spoke to her, he opted to go further out on that limb. Raising his gaze to Dean and Sam, he relayed the exchange.

"She seems to be confused as to why you two can't understand her. I - well, hopefully - said: They do want to answer. They are unable. They have no knowledge of these words."

The demon just barely cut his eyes over to her; he was relieved to see her head had tilted, her gaze now hitting somewhere on the floor, thinking.

Then, looking to Crowley, she spoke not a sentence but separate words - and oddly, in Latin. They came out haltingly, like she was mentally looking them up one by one in a translation dictionary.

EXCERPT - Chapter Seven: The Chapel Incident (Part Two)

CROWLEY'S LAIR 6:37 P.M.

"But, sir, if you would just allow me to-"

"No, sir, NO!  Our information is clear: the angels already have it-"

"That is not the case, I believe if we act quickly-"

"You think just because there was that one time-"

"Sir, they are trying to be far too cautious, and we cannot afford-"

Crowley closed his eyes, propping an elbow on one arm of his shabby chair-turned-throne, rubbing his temples with one hand.  The opposite hand's fingers were rapping against the chair's other arm.

Rap.

Rap.

Rrrrrap.

None of the dozen or so demons arguing in front of him were paying him any mind.  They were his current top-of-the-listers when it came to subjects of strategy and technology, his brainy bunch, and they were bickering like children fighting over a toy.  Not a one had managed to utter a complete sentence in almost half an hour.  And Crowley was rapidly losing his patience.

EXCERPT - Chapter Six: The Chapel Incident (Part One)

Castiel had always loved languages, and though it was wise of angels, being watchers over humankind, to know them all, some of his kin opted to concentrate more on other studies. But he loved the sounds humans made, how some words sounded completely different depending on whose mouth they left, how much tone and expression and accents mattered. Things sounded so brash in his native tongue; he much preferred earth's dialects. He'd not mastered communication, this he knew, and it had become a habit of his to mull over words in his mind while he did other things. After finishing preparation of the injections, Castiel had busied himself organizing the rest of the medical supplies to his liking, and two particular words were turning over in his mind: wonder and wander. Words with similar sounds and different meanings weren't unique to English, though in this case, for him, they were two sides of the same coin. He felt like he was wandering, all the while wondering how it was Jane had escaped his watch. Before the mission to rescue Dean from hell, Castiel and the other soldiers who'd joined him were all briefed on the Winchester family, though more distant relatives like the Campbell cousins, or even those as near as their grandparents, were merely footnotes. The focus was on Dean and Sam, their pivotal role in what was to come, and after Dean's retrieval, Castiel had received a promotion of sorts: he was to be the primary watcher of the children of John and Mary. He was to push them when they needed pushing, guide them when they needed guiding, but above all he was to be neutral. They had to make their own decisions. They had to find their own paths. To say the angel had overstepped his bounds and become attached would have been the understatement of the century. He would sacrifice himself for them without hesitation - and had. And Castiel would have done the same for their sister. He should have been briefed on her, been able to review her birth, her life, her existence. Jane had been completely hidden from angelic radar, her heavenly records wiped, the knowledge of her being taken from her loved ones, and Castiel was, quite frankly, stumped. Confounded. Gobsmacked. The Germans probably had a better word for this; he'd have to check. 

EXCERPT - Chapter Five: A History of Violence

Getting a little harder to excerpt now without blowing up the plot, so here’s just a cute little snippet from the most recent chapter.  Carry on- Nash.

The Winchesters had stopped for gas, Dean taking the opportunity to tape up the window again. After they were all settled and Sam had returned to his usual front seat position, they hopped back on the interstate. They were about thirty minutes out from the bunker when Jane spoke.

"Hey guys?"

"What's up?"

"Y'all grabbed a bunch of stuff, this is great," she began.

"But?" asked Dean.

"But, um, there's not a spare toothbrush at your place, is there?"

Dean glanced at Sam, who shrugged.

"We'll figure something out," Dean said.

Jane's eyes narrowed. "Toothbrushes aren't a figuring-out sort of thing. Unless you have a toothbrush-maker stashed somewhere?"

EXCERPT - Chapter Four: The Winding Warren

Dean and Sam hadn't made much progress into their return home. They'd stopped for burgers not long after leaving Jane's, actually going in and sitting down, and were still picking at leftover fries in the car as they talked. Dean was driving leisurely and Sam didn't mind spending the extra time with him as they were getting along better than they had been in recent past. Despite their mutual concern for Jane, the brothers were in a much-needed space of contentment. "Ann and Nancy are rock goddesses, it's not even a debate," Dean was saying. Sam took a sip from his drink. "Okay, then, that's the one." He set his cup in the holder, then pulled out his phone. "She didn't call, did she?" asked Dean. "No, I'm going to see if I can find anyone still selling cassettes," Sam replied, unable to resist the tiny dig on Dean. They had decided to get some new music for the car to surprise Jane next time she rode with them. Just then, the radio began to cut in and out. "What the..." Sam said under his breath. The screen on his phone flickered and the browser shut down, followed by the phone turning off completely. Both brothers then noticed the street light they'd been slowly coasting up to as it turned yellow now flashed to green, then back to yellow then to red, then began to flicker on all colors erratically. Icicles went up Dean's spine.

EXCERPT - Chapter Three: Three Can Keep a Secret

LEBANON, KANSAS MEN OF LETTERS BUNKER "Just... you're still... you gotta stick your butt out more." Sam's face registered more than a little confusion hearing this as he got out of the car. As seemed par for the course, Sam had won errand duty again. It was the weekend, finally - after the week he and Dean had, they were both looking forward to Jane visiting. Beyond just their typical hunting drama, it had been tense ever since the weekend prior. They'd not discussed Castiel - who'd been largely absent for the most part - or Crowley, just stuck to the details of the case at hand. Then as the weekend crept closer, talk of their plans began to happen and they started to speak with a little more ease. They'd even gone on a shopping run together the night before. By the time Sam had picked up Jane and brought her back to the bunker early Saturday afternoon, he and Dean had fallen into their old, comfortable rhythm. Mostly for her sake, it seemed, though each privately hoped it would somehow linger after she'd gone. Sam had just pulled around the side and parked on the edge of the large open area, between the unkempt rows of wheat and the building, rather than bother with a trek via the garage. Now he walked over to the beach chairs and a long-forgotten round coffee table they'd brought out from one of the storage rooms. Sam was happy the weather hadn't turned too cold to be outdoors, and they had managed to assemble a nice little spread of food. Plopping down a bag of sodas and bottled water, he noted the steaks Dean had marinating overnight were on the grill. Dean and Jane were off to the side, Dean with glove and ball, Jane not too far in front of him with a bat, positioning and then re-positioning herself into an awkward stance. "Is this better?" "Now quit hitting like a girl." Jane straightened up and raised an eyebrow. "Then you stop throwing like one."

EXCERPT - Chapter One/Two: Of Letters

LEBANON, KANSAS MEN OF LETTERS BUNKER FRIDAY EVENING It was twelve minutes to the top of the hour, the closing out of an ordinary afternoon at the bunker. Sam was pretending to work on research when he was really just watching a clock that was slow all morning, then seemed to tick away faster and faster. The way Sam tells it, he somehow knew the rest of the day was likely to be a disaster when Dean couldn't find his keys. "You're sure," Dean shouted out to his brother from somewhere down the hallway, his tone not implying a question but more of an accusation. "Yes," Sam replied, just as testy. He glanced at the time again. Ten 'til. Dean should have left fifteen minutes earlier, to go on a brief overnight just a few counties over. There had been a vague news report about something-or-other, and Sam had successfully convinced him it was worth investigating. And, he'd also successfully faked a stomach bug so Dean wouldn't want Sam anywhere near, much less in his car, much less for two hours. "Okay, got 'em," Dean announced, striding into the room. Sam let out the tiniest sigh of relief. "Oh," Dean snapped his fingers, remembering something. "Should I grab more shotgun shells? Do you know what's left in the trunk?" "Yeah, may want to," Sam agreed. Good. Dean would leave through the garage, so he could pass the ammo storage on the way out. Perfect. They would miss each other totally. "I'm out. Cas is gonna meet me there. I'll call when we get to the motel," Dean said. Sam nodded and Dean headed off. Which was fortuitous, because at that moment, the text Sam had been waiting for came through: We're parked & walking to the door now. They were early. 

Here we go

The story behind the story is linked above in “WHY”.  We’ll get the excerpts up for the first four chapters soon.  It took millennia to get this set up.  Because I’m an old.  [Not that old... oldish... meh]  Life currently beckons, so for now, head to “MORE” if you want to jump right in via FF.net or Wattpad.

Carry on - Nash