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Somehow Supernatural

Chapter 2: It's All Starting to Feel Real

Tags: poc!oc, gn!oc, teen!oc, panic attack, heavy cursing, Dean always needs his own warning, self-deprecating thoughts, mentions of anxiety, Cas not taking a hint, Deanstiel (or whatever the fuck Dean and Cas's ship name is), general chaos

Summary: The Winchesters and Cas have a meeting about Casey. It doesn't go too well, and Casey realizes what shit their stuck in.

Words: 2,675

I kinda felt like I was gonna vomit. Not because I needed to vomit, but because my tum-tum was doing flips and turns like a fucking rollercoaster due to my crippling anxiety. Usually, I would do little exercises that helped me regulate like my mom taught me, but that just reminded me that I was in a different universe where I might not be able to see my mom - or anyone I knew in real life - ever again. These consistent, little thoughts did not help my already upside-down stomach.

I was sitting in the bunker, in the room with the table that has the big map of the world. I liked to call this room the “meeting room” when I watched the show because… they met people in the meeting room. Come on, it was like the foyer of the bunker so everyone had to pass through it to fight and argue and shiz.

Anyway, I was sitting in the meeting room surrounded by men that I never thought I’d ever meet in person. Maybe the reason for my anxious tum was because of the “omg-smexy-men-are-staring-at-me” effect. If so… give me an anxiety stomach ache every day.

Dean sat straight across from me at the map table. Even though he wasn’t in pouncing position anymore, he was still on guard; which, I mean, valid. All that shit he’s gone through definitely made him a tough cookie. 

Castiel was standing right behind Dean’s chair like a guardian angel. I mean, literally right behind. He was basically breathing down the hunter's neck. Maybe he liked the smell.

And Sam.

Oh. Sammy. Boy!

He had his ass sat directly on the table and was staring at me in wonder. Sam’s hair was hanging in his face at an angle that was just… perfect. It was also the perfect length, not short enough to make him look like he was 15 and not long enough where he looked crusty. Did I mention that he looked fucking perfect? Honestly, if I didn’t know any better I would’ve thought Sam was the angel.

No offense, Cas.

All three attractive men were gathered around the meeting table to discuss me. Me! I was kinda feeling myself and basking in the attention that I was getting from multiple hot men before I realized something a bit alarming.

Dean, Castiel, and Sam… were deciding what to do with me. I wouldn’t put it past Dean if he decided to kill me or abandon me in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. He doesn’t seem like the type to have a father instinct for just some random teen.

…or maybe whoever’s body I’m occupying is important to him.

“Y’all gonna talk or just stare?” I asked. Yes, during my whole internal monologue full of ogling men and withering away from anxiety, not a single person talked. They gave each other looks, but they didn’t utter a word. 

Someone finally decided to speak up after realizing how weird they were being.

“So…” Sam started. He had his hand thoughtfully under his chin. I thought I might mention it because it almost took me out, “You just appeared out of nowhere?”

“I mean, I guess so. I’m just as confused as you guys are,” I spin in my chair, “Honestly, I thought I was just having one of my regularly scheduled psychedelic dreams but then, I woke up with Dean in my face.”

“A dream?” Castiel asked.

“Yeah, dude, a dream. I was basically floating in this void and then I started hearing someone telling me to wake up and then… Dean’s face.” I took another twirl in my chair. 

The guys looked like they were trying to solve a puzzle. They had their thinking caps on full blast, you should have seen their faces. 

“Did you try the usual holy water, sliver, cross stuff?” Sam turned to Dean in question.

“Yeah,” Dean replied.

I get trying to make sure I’m not a bad type of baddie, but he could have used his non-dominant hand so it wouldn’t be as hard cause damn. That shit really hurt.

“They didn’t try to attack you?” Sam continued.

“No.”

“Then, I think we should be good for now. We can let them stay here since they seem discombobulated,” Bless you, Sam. You’re the greatest of all these fuckers.

“But if they try anything, they're out,” Cas nodded along with Dean’s words. The angel barely even looked like he was listening to what Dean was actually saying, “And if we figure out you were lying about who you are, I will find a way to send you to hell. Trust me.” 

Go shit on a brick, Dean. And you too Cas, agreeing with Dean like a lost puppy. 

“Okay…” I muttered. I didn’t really like the idea of dying, especially if it was in someone else’s body, but what could I have done? Said no? Been kicked to the curb? I’m not really worth anything to them so-

…wait.

“You never told me, whose body is this?” 

All of a sudden, it got a little awkward. Sam’s cheeks were pink and Dean was avoiding my eyes. Even Cas looked a little weird.

“Well-” Dean started.

“We-” 

“Sam found the kid on a hunt and couldn’t help but save them. They almost died, but Sammy got Cas to heal them,” Dean blurted. Sam’s face turned a dark red now that the truth was out to the masses.

“W-well you cared about them enough to train them!” Sam retorted. Now it was Dean’s turn for a red face. 

“You brought them stacks of books!”

“You made them your big bacon breakfast…three times! I can barely get you to cook for me!”

“You eat salad. I’m not making a fucking salad for a meal!” 

“It’s good for your body! Your body will rot away from all the red meat you eat!”

“At least I’m not eating rabbits' food!”

“You know,” Cas finally piped up, “The kid was bound to die.”

Silence. Damn, dude. That was a bit harsh, wasn’t it? From what I heard just now, the Winchester brothers really liked this kid. It kind of makes me feel bad for pushing them from their own body, but… what was Cas saying?

“They were meant to die the night of the hunt. Right on the floor of their living room where you found them. It was their fate. It was a miracle I was able to heal them and it was almost impossible for them to survive a month like they did,” Sam and Dean were getting pissed. Castiel - bless his heart - didn’t seem to notice, “They were never supposed to have formed relations with you two because you weren’t supposed to meet them while they were still alive.”

Poor Cas and his sucky communication skills. Now due to his harsh words, the angel’s collar was being winkled by Dean’s man hands. Castiel didn’t look alarmed at all. I wasn’t sure if it was because Dean was a mere human or because the majority of the Supernatural fandom was right about these two.

“Shut up,” Dean seethed. Sam was hovering behind Dean either waiting his turn to get a lick in or making sure Dean didn’t take it too far. I was now feeling really bad because this was all making a bit of sense. I finally understood why Castiel didn’t seem fazed by my sudden appearance, why he’s been saying all this shit about how this person should be dead already.

Speaking of Castiel, he was just letting Dean choke him up against the table. I knew he didn’t really need my help in the situation, but I was starting to feel a little awkward just sitting there. It’s way different seeing these men fight when they’re on screen and I’m in a whole other world looking like a mole rat on my couch. 

With courage that I didn’t know I had, I muttered, “Guys… I need to take a shit. Real bad.”

Three pairs of eyes turned to look at me in… surprise? Disgust? Both? It didn’t really matter what they thought of my statement, all that mattered was Castiel’s insensitive words were forgotten. For now.

Fingers combing through his hair, Sam sighed, “Come on then,” he said, walking off. He expected me to follow him and I did. To the best of my ability. He’s got long fucking legs, so he’s got even longer fucking strides. I had to practically run and I’m of average height!

Sam finally stopped at the door to the bathroom. I didn’t actually have to shit, but I figured I could use this opportunity of aloneness to recoup, realign, and do all things zen. 

Closing the door to the bathroom, I let out a breath that I didn’t realize I was holding. Today was one of the weirdest days of my life. I wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad weird yet, but it was weird. I never thought I would travel to a different universe. I never thought I would ever meet the Winchesters. I never thought I would get to walk with my own two feet - mostly - through the bunker that I’ve adored for years. 

What the hell brought me here? I wasn’t really complaining, but I still have to wonder. Was this planned? Was this person’s body kept alive for me to go in it? Do I have to save this world somehow? Am I connected to something here? Was this fate like Castiel mentioned?

I sat on the toilet seat feeling pretty lost. I wasn’t sure why it was so bright in the fucking bathroom, but it was bothering me so I slammed my face onto my lap. It was dark and warm and what I really needed at the moment. 

I know, a really sharp change in my emotions, but that’s just how it be sometimes. Perhaps being alone right now wasn’t the best decision. Usually, being alone worked, but now it felt like there were 20-pound weights on my shoulders, and it was getting kind of hard to breathe. It was also really hot, so I started squirming on the toilet seat like that was gonna cool me off.  I don’t know what I thinking because that’s not how heat works.

Then, I thought I could sit on the floor and continue my deep ponder about how the fuck I got into this situation, but I finally realized I was having a panic attack and didn’t really want to move. I found that if I moved, I would black out or it would be 10 times worse, but who knows, maybe this body works differently.

So, I moved to the floor. The floor was nice and cool, but then I started thinking about spiders because I was on the floor in an underground bathroom and spiders here really made sense. I wanted to get back on the toilet, but my body didn’t wanna listen. So now, I was a lump of a human on the bathroom floor that was probably shivering, but I couldn’t really feel my body anymore.

I wonder why when my body’s panicking my thoughts are calmer than when my body’s not panicking. It doesn’t really make sense. Like, none of my thoughts were screaming at me or telling me to do stupid shit. They were just calmly saying stuff like ‘you should get up’ or ‘there might be spiders here’ or ‘your probably gonna die, but take your time’. 

Yeah, the calm thoughts were definitely worst.

Now I recognized the feeling of tears falling down my face and I felt pretty pathetic. I mean, what the fuck was I crying for? Nothing was wrong. They hadn’t killed me yet. I’d always wanted to travel to another world, but I guess my body couldn’t take it. Wait! This wasn’t even my fucking body!

“So goddamn pathetic,” I wheezed. My right cheek was pressed against the floor and when I talked I could feel the tears smearing all over the place and it gave me the ick, but I couldn’t stop myself from crying. 

I love to mention the fact that I have a superiority complex, but I never talk about the opposite of that. My dandy ‘you’re a fucking loser and will never do anything in your life’ complex. It always sneaks up on me at the worst times, like when I’m supposed to be enjoying myself in another universe for crying out loud, and makes me feel more worthless than - fucking - everything. It makes me wanna crawl into a hole and never come back out.

Feeling worthless and having a panic attack simultaneously isn’t the best. It means not only can you not breathe, but you also don’t feel like trying. So, I laid on the floor of the bathroom and didn’t do any of the breathing exercises that my therapist taught me. I just waited to black out.

“Hey, kid, you doing okay in there?” Sam’s voice sounded so far away. I could barely hear it. My lungs were starting to hurt from lack of air, so I curled my aching body into a pathetic little ball.

Pathetic.

“Did you hear me?” Sam sounded. I didn’t move a muscle. I wasn’t surprised when I heard his footsteps getting farther from the door. Of course, he would abandon me. Even I would abandon myself. I was so damn pathetic that I didn’t deserve to be cared for.

Bang!

“Kid! What the hell?” Sam’s voice was now closer. Was it odd that I could smell him? Was I really that desperate for someone that I was imagining things?

So fucking pathetic.

Strong arms lifted me off the floor. I was now pushed against a firm chest and not cold tiles. I don’t think I was imagining this, but I wasn’t gonna get my hopes up. I couldn’t see much because of the tears, so I just snuggled deeper into Sam’s flannel.

More footsteps approached. More voices.

“What the hell happened?”

“They were in the bathroom and I heard sobbing, but they wouldn’t answer the door.”

“Are they hurt?” 

“No, I think they’re having a panic attack.”

“A what?”

“A panic attack, Dean. I’m just gonna get them to lay down somewhere other than the floor.”

“The floor? Did they pass out?”

Sam brushed my hair back to see my face, “Maybe. They’re awake now.”

When we got to the couch, Sam put me down and crouched in front of me. He was looking into my eyes while I was trying to look at his. 

“Breathe with me,” Sam whispered gently. 

I tried to do what he said, but my lungs were burning. Every breath I tried to take would come out shaky or devolve into a sob. Sam slowly took my hands, giving me a chance to pull away, and continued breathing with me. It took a while, but soon I was breathing steadily and my crying had stopped.

“You okay?” Sam asked.

I nodded.

“You want some water?” 

I nodded again.

“Dean?” Sam turned to his brother that was standing behind him, “Mind getting them some water?”

Before Dean could move Castiel appeared with a glass of water in hand. I hadn’t even noticed he had left. The angel handed me the glass and while I gulped it down, he stayed hovered over me. He looked really worried, but I wasn’t sure why.

“Does this happen a lot?” Sam questioned. His hand was still holding one of mine. It was comforting.

“Yeah,” I croaked, “No big deal.”

“Is there something wrong with them?” The shorter brother asked.

“Nah, I’m just kinda sensitive,” I huffed, “Kind of hoped I wouldn’t have to deal with that in this body.”

“Sorry you have to,” said Sam, “I know how it feels.”

Well, well, well. One of my personal headcannons was true. 

I gave Sam a smile and finally let go of his hand. I didn’t really wanna talk about this anymore.

“So, you guys got anything to eat?”

I used my own experience with panic attacks to write the scene in this chapter, so if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.

AN: loved this chapter sm. I really like the tone of this fanfiction and I'm gonna try to keep it like this so when it gets dark... well- it doesn't get too depressing.

Hope you enjoyed!

Somehow Supernatural

Tags: teen!oc, gn!oc, poc!oc, Dean being Dean, weird dreams, CROWLEY, demon dogs, Dean being scared of said demon dogs

Summary: Casey goes to bed, has weird dreams, and gets to meet the King of Hell.

Chapter Three: Yummy Food and Weird Shit

I will never deny that I was a foodie. I mean, if you saw me when I devour anything put in front of me, you wouldn’t even have to ask. I love everything about food. Sometimes I mix stuff together that other people think is weird like when I dip my waffles and pancakes in orange juice. I used to be the kid in elementary school who would mix everyone’s leftover lunches together and actually go through with eating it.

One thing I learned from all my years of eating is that post-panic attack meals are the best. After crying half my weight in water and depriving my brain of oxygen, food just hits different. Plus, Dean brought back chicken nuggets.

“Slow down, you’ll choke,” Dean said as he reached his hand to take my nuggies away. I obviously wasn’t gonna just let him do that so, I smacked the shit out of his hand. I didn’t think I put that much power into it but when I heard the smack echo, I knew.

“Mmfh,” I was trying to apologize before he kicked me out on my ass, but my mouth was full of about 4 chicken nuggets. Dean glared at me and went back to eating his double bacon cheeseburger.

Sam had come to sit down across from Dean and me after he had finished preparing his salad. Dean asked if his brother wanted anything from the restaurant, but Sam insisted on eating salad. I love salad as much as anyone, but when someone offers to buy you fast food, you fucking take it. Salad be damned.

Castiel was seated next to Sam opposite of me. He didn’t need to eat, so he was just reading the menu that had come with the fast food. Occasionally, he would look up from his reading to glance at me. It didn’t look threatening, but it did look like he had something to say.

“So,” I had finally swallowed down the colossal amount of chicken I stuffed down my face, “When are we going to go on a hunt?”

“We?” Dean quirked his eyebrow at me.

“Yes, we, Dean. I might as well since I’m here. What else am I supposed to do?”

Dean crumbled up the empty wrapper of his meal, “Nothing.”

“Sam?” I turned to the younger Winchester. He had been really nice to me. He wouldn’t agree with Dean.

“I agree with Dean.”

Well fuck.

So, basically, I was in this new universe and I couldn’t do jack shit but sit underground. That was so unfair! They should at least take me once, but from their faces, it didn’t look like they were gonna change their minds.

What did they even have to do in the bunker? I know they have alcohol. Too much alcohol, in fact, but even if I was of age, I’m not really interested. They also have a library full of hunter books. I know that sounds cool and I shouldn’t be complaining, but who would want to read books about these cool ass monsters if you could see them in person? Not me, that’s for sure.

“They should go on a hunt,” Castiel stated, not taking his eyes off his menu. How was that so interesting to him?

…wait.

“Did you just say I could go?!” I squealed.

“Did you just say they could go?!” The brothers yelled in unison.

“They can go with me,” Castiel said finally putting his menu down, “They won’t be harmed.”

I ran over to the other side of the table to tackle Castiel in a hug because I was so happy. Fried nerves be damned. He kind of froze for a second before awkwardly patting my back. Sam and Dean were still trying to get the angel to not bring me, but he didn’t budge.

“Who would watch them if we’re all gone? They’re a child, they need protection.”

Dean scoffed at that like it wasn’t kind of true before he stood from the table and stalked off. Presumably to his room. Sam shook his head in disbelief before he retired as well. 

Soon, Castiel and I were the only ones left at the table. I was still eating my fries and Castiel was staring at me. It would have been creepy if it had been anyone besides him, but he had this innocence about him that didn’t make him all that scary. Even though he was the only one here with powers strong enough to do God-knows-what, he didn’t make me feel frightened at all.

“Casey,” I perked up, “you should get some sleep. It’s late.”

I wasn’t sure how late it was because we were underground and I never asked, but now that Castiel brought up the subject of sleep, it made me yawn. I didn’t even register I was tired. It felt like it’d been so long since I last slept. I wasn’t sure if that was because of my eventful day or because it really had been that long.

I got up from the table and waved Castiel goodnight. I was halfway down the hallway before I realized that I didn’t know where I was going to sleep. No one had given me a room or anything. 

I wonder where my body was staying before I got here.

Not wanting to bother anyone, I slinked over to the couch I had sat on earlier and laid down. The couch had a blanket that was thick enough and a couple of pillows that weren’t too uncomfortable.

The thing that made me so uneasy was the fact that it was out in the open. The couch sat against one of the walls of the library. I never did well with new sleeping spaces, but when those sleeping spaces were so big and dark that you weren’t sure what was hiding in there… I did not like it. Plus, I couldn’t watch YouTube before bed. 

I’m not sure how, but I eventually went to sleep. I ended up in another void. This time I couldn’t see all my thoughts as words. This time I could see my mom. She was in the kitchen chopping vegetables. There was nothing on the stove and there was nothing in front of her to put the vegetables in. The only thing on the entire counter was the chopping board and the single carrot she was chopping. I wanted to know what she was doing and I tried to ask, but my mouth wouldn’t move. She looked me right in my eyes before she disappeared.

Next, I saw my dad. He was in the garage sitting on his motorcycle. The engine wasn’t running and the garage wasn’t even open, but my dad had all his gear on like he was gonna take off at any second. He wasn’t wearing his helmet though. I was standing in the doorway that lead from the house to the garage. My dad was facing in the other direction. He looked frozen in time. I couldn’t even see his body shift from breathing. It was like he was paused. I tried to walk up to him to tap him on the shoulder, but - again - I couldn’t move. My dad finally turned his face to me. Blood dripped from his mouth. Then, he disappeared too.

I saw my older brother out on the front porch. He was sitting in the gray chair that was facing me yet, I couldn’t see his face. His neck… his neck somehow had his head on backward. His fingers still typed at the computer on his lap even though he couldn’t see it. I didn’t try to move this time, but my brother did. One of his hands lifted off of the keyboard to point at something behind me. Then, he disappeared.

My little brother was next. He was in the basement playing on his gaming setup. Well, at least he was sitting at his gaming setup. His arms were at his sides and he was staring at a blank screen. I was standing directly behind him. I wanted to run. I didn’t want to see this creepy shit anymore, but I was stuck in place. I had to watch my little brother melt into a pile of flesh in his chair.

I didn’t like this dream. No matter how hard I tried to wake up, I couldn’t. I was stuck. Stuck watching some creepy version of my family from afar. I wished that I could hear Dean’s voice again. I wished he would wake me up by shaking my arms like he did before, but his voice never came. No one ever came. This wasn’t me feeling like a failure that didn’t deserve to be saved. I wanted to be saved. I needed to be saved.

“Save me!” A voice echoed through my head that I’d never heard before. I never heard this voice before, but I felt linked to them somehow. I wanted to reach out and save them like I wanted someone to save me. For the first time since my dream started, my body moved. I reached my hand out for this voice. I swear I felt them reach back.

~~~

“Fuck!” I woke up sitting straight up on the couch I fell asleep on. My hand was outstretched like I was reaching for… something? Someone. Who was I reaching for? 

My blanket and pillows had fallen to the floor which wasn’t a surprise to me. Even when I wasn’t having creepy ass weird ass dreams, I was still a wild sleeper. What the fuck was that dream about anyway? I liked to believe that all dreams mean something, but I didn’t understand that one. Or maybe I was too scared to want to understand it. I’d come back to it later.

Right now, I was more concerned with the man sitting in the library. He looked concerningly like the King of Hell.

“Hello… new child,” Crowley said in his british accent. He was casually sipping on some of Sam and Dean’s alcohol stash. I felt underdressed even though I was wearing the same shit since I got here. It wasn’t half bad, but I kinda wanted to meet Crowley looking like myself. Or at least with my own dressing style and not this cringe shit. He was one of my favorite characters after all.

“How long have you been there?” I asked, slowly placing my feet flat on the floor. 

“Not that long,” he shrugged.

I got up and walked toward him. I know he’s the King of Hell and all that jazz, but I really wanted to shake his hand. He didn’t look like he wanted to hurt me. He actually looked kind of curious.

I offered him my hand, “I’m Casey. Nice to meet the King of Hell face to face.”

Crowly smirked and shook my hand, “You know who I am and you think it’s nice to meet me. I’m surprised the Winchesters haven’t told you-”

“Get away from him!” Sam shouted as he practically slid into the room. It seemed like he rushed in here so fast he forgot to put a shirt on. He was only wearing his blue-patterned pajama pants. I looked at him with a ‘what the fuck’ face before turning back to Crowley. I know Sam was trying to look after me and shit, but he was not gonna make me walk away from the motherfucking King of Hell.

“I have so many questions if you don’t mind,” I told Crowley as I sat next to him. Sam let out a sound of protest, “What do the demon dogs look like? I know the whole thing is not seeing them, but I’ve always been curious. Also, what’s your favorite task to do as the King of Hell? Do you enjoy torture or do you only do it because you have to? Are other demons dumb cause how do they get killed by Sam and Dean so easily? Do you have wings-”

“You have to give me time to answer, you know,” I snapped my mouth closed, “For your first question… I could bring the demon dogs here if you’d like.”

“Yes!” I squealed.

“No!” yelled Sam.

Crowley brought out the summoning whistle from his jacket pocket. Sam looked like he was about to pass out, but he somehow managed to stay upright. I sorta forgot that Sam had trauma from the demon dogs. They killed his brother in what? Season 3?

I didn’t think Crowley was actually gonna go through with it, but he blew the whistle. I guess if the dogs don’t have orders to kill anyone, they won’t… hopefully.

“How can you tell when they’re here-”

I was cut off but something warm and wet wiping up my face. I let out a yelp of surprise before I realized it was most likely the dogs. I cautiously reached my arms out to feel for its body. My hands connected with soft fur. The dog or dogs - I felt multiple tongues licking at my face - were pretty big by the feel of it. Maybe the size of a pony? They were muscly as hell though.

“How many did you call?” I asked Crowley.

“Just one. They have multiple heads. You can ask Dean about that.” 

Sam gave the demon a glare for his assholish comment before he spoke up, “Why the hell are you here, Crowley?”

“Well,” Crowley looked back at me. I bet it looked like I was petting air, “I came here to see them.”

Sam was confused. I was confused. Why the hell did the King of Hell have business with me? Even though I had no idea what Crowley wanted with me and whether or not I was in danger, I kept petting the demon dog. I didn’t know when I was gonna have the opportunity to do this again.

“You’re not taking them,” Sam said, pulling an angel knife from his ass.

“I’m not taking them. Calm down, moose,” Crowley finally stood up from his chair, “I just wish to talk with them.”

“I don’t see why not,” I pipped in.

“He’s the fricken King of Hell!” Sam yelled like ruling the underworld was a crime.

“And?” I replied.

“And you're not talking to him!”

“Well, last time I checked, you weren’t the fucking boss of me, dude.” I stood up from petting the demon dog and gave Sam a glare. I was getting fed up with Sam telling me what to do. First, he told me he didn’t want me going on hunts, and now this? I hadn’t even known him for a full 24 hours!

“You’re a child, Casey! No!” 

“I’m not your fucking child, Sam, so buzz the fuck off!”

The demon dog started barking really loud after I said that. The air stilled. Crowley was smirking throughout Sam and I’s whole argument, but now his face was filled with genuine surprise. Sam looked scarily angry.

“You lied,” Sam stated. The angel knife that was once pointed at Crowley was now pointed at me, “You are some kind of monster.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I said, breathless. Fear shot up my spine.

“Your eyes… they turned red.”

AN: Crowley's one of my favorite characters and in later chapters sometimes he just comes back for not reason other than I like him. I know I do shit on Dean, but like, I still like him. He's just not my favorite out of the trio. And yes, superpowered OC. Gotta love it.

Somehow Supernatural

Chapter 4: Something New in the New

Summary: Casey gets threatened with death, but gets to leave with Crowley, so it's fine.

Tags: teen!oc, gn!oc, superpowered!oc, Winchesters being assholes, Castiel being the voice of reason, Dean pissing himself, demon dogs, crying

Sam told me to sit down on the couch and not move. Of course, I didn’t move. He was shoving a fucking angel blade in my face. He looked so angry, and his anger didn’t simmer when he saw my scared shitless face. It didn’t even simmer when Dean and Castiel came into the room.

“They're a monster, Dean,” Sam told his brother right as he entered the room. Dean didn’t look angry. He just looked disappointed.

The older brother sighed, “Guess I really do have to kill them.”

“No!” Castiel and Crowley yelled out.

I would have protested too, but I was so fucking scared. It’s no fun being on the bad side of the Winchesters. For the first time since this whole thing started, I really just wanted to go home. The only thing that was scary back at home was grades. No one was trying to kill me there.

“What do you mean no?” Sam’s head snapped to Castiel, “This is what we agreed on.”

“You can’t kill them,” Castiel moved so his body was blocking mine, “I won’t let you.”

“Neither will I, by the way,” Crowley stepped up next to Cas, “They’re special. They're not just some low-level demon that I’ll allow you to kill off.”

“So, they’re a demon?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know,” Crowly responded honestly.

Well, that was really reassuring. The fucking King of Hell couldn’t figure out what I was, the Winchester brothers wanted to kill me, and I was freaking out. It was too fucking early for the shit.

“They are not a demon,” Castiel finally decided to say something, “They are not a monster. They are, however, something very powerful-”

“More of a reason to kill them!”

“Do not interrupt me, Dean,” Dean looked taken aback, but stayed quiet, “They may be powerful, but they don’t know how to use this power. They are as harmful as a paper cut. They are also a child. You will not kill someone that is innocent just because they have powers that they weren’t aware of.”

“You’re telling me they didn’t know!” It was Sam this time that yelled.

Castiel stayed calm, “No, they didn’t know. Look how scared they are.”

The angel moved over slightly so the brothers could get a good look at me. I don’t remember when it happened, but tears were now on my face. I was trying to make myself as small as possible as if that would keep me safe, and, again, I had no idea what was going on. They could probably see it in my eyes.

Castiel was now fully back in front of me and I was grateful. Not to sound like a broken record, but I was so fucking scared. I looked over to Crowley and saw he was already looking at me. If I wasn’t hallucinating, it looked like the demon felt bad.

“...so we’re not going to kill them,” Castiel was still talking, “We can take them somewhere else, but we’re not killing them.”

I heard huffs of agreement before Castiel moved from in front of me. I saw Sam and it looked like he felt pretty guilty for almost shanking me. He couldn’t meet my eyes. Dean just stared at me like he was expecting me to do something bad any second.

Crowley didn’t move from his spot in front of me. I didn’t mind, but I think others had something to say about it.

“Why are you still standing there?” Dean asked. His eyes were accusatory.

“The dog is in front of me,” Crowley stated casually.

“What dog? There’s no dog, Crowley.”

“Oh, squirrel,” the demon smirked, “It’s a demon dog,” Dean took a huge step back and almost tripped on his own feet, “You of all people should know that they’re invisible.”

“Why…” Dean's face looked as white as a sheet, “Why is there a demon dog in the bunker?”

“Casey asked.”

Dean’s eyes snapped to me. Really? Did Crowley really have to throw me under the bus like that? Right after they agreed not to kill me? Dean looked too scared to be mad, but he still tried. 

“I was curious,” I mumbled.

“J-just get it out of here!” Dean squeaked.

I frowned. One of those big frowns that looks cartoonish.

“Crowley?” I started.

“Yes, child?”

“Could you please make Steven leave?”

“Steven?” Crowley lifted his eyebrow in amusement.

“Yes, Steven. Steven the demon dog. The right-hand man of the King of Hell himself,” I snorted and then started laughing hysterically. I started laughing so hard that more tears ran down my cheeks. Not because of fear this time, but because I named a fucking real-life demon dog Steven.

“Casey is in shock,” Castiel stated.

“Yeah…” Sam muttered guiltily. 

Crowley took out his whistle after staring at me like I was crazy and blew. I felt fur brush across my ankles before the demon said that the demon dog was gone. 

“Now,” Crowley said, “I think it would be best if I took them.”

Sam and Dean looked like they were about to protest, but Crowley gave them the ‘talk to the hand’.

“From what I saw, you can’t keep them safe. If anything, you two idiots would be the ones to kill them, and I will not let that happen. So,” Crowley wiped nonexistent lint from his suit jacket, “They should come with me.”

“Cas?” the old brother asked the angel.

“For now,” Castiel took a breath, “I agree with Crowley.”

“Great! Now go get your stuff, child.” Crowley waved his hand in the general direction of the bedrooms. The thing is, I’d never been to my room before. Remember? I slept on the fucking couch.

“I, um, don’t know where my room is,” I twiddled my thumbs.

“Right, these pigs made you sleep on the couch,” the King of Hell sneered.

“We didn’t-”

“I found them asleep on the couch. You made them sleep on the couch,” Crowley snapped.

“I will lead you to your room. You can get your clothes,” Castiel offered.

There was no chance in hell that I was gonna get more clothes like the ones I had on. I would rather sever my fingers with a plastic knife before wearing these rags. Seriously, who picked these abominations?

“If clothes are all I need to get from there… I think I’m good,” the angel tilted his head in confusion, “The clothes probably look like shit or they’re flannel. I’m not wearing either of those. I have pride.”

Sam and Dean looked offended, but I didn’t really care.

“Crowley can get me clothes that don’t make me wanna wash my eyes with bleach,” I turned to the demon in question, “Right?”

He sighed, “I can.”

“Great! Then, I’m ready to go!”

“Alright, child. Out the door then.”

“You drove?” I was surprised. I thought he was gonna teleport me out of here or I was gonna find out that he had wings. Plus, I had cars in my own world. Riding in one now is so fucking lame when there’s supernatural shit that can help you travel.

Crowley scoffed, “Of course not.”

Crowley and I were at the top of the stairs when I decided to acknowledge the men - and angel - I was leaving behind. I wasn’t very fond of Sam or Dean right now, but Castiel probably saved my ass today. He saw something in me that made him want to spare me. Something that he didn’t see in whoever occupied this body before.

I turned and smiled, “Thanks, Castiel. Hope to see you soon.”

The last thing I saw before the door closed was Dean and Sam looking like guilty little fuckers. They were enough dumb to think that after voting to kill me that they were gonna get a goodbye. 

AN: We're getting to the good part.

Guys! I wrote a story based on my track coach being immortal because if you've met him... he most definitely is. Really proud of it so I'm posting it on here.

The Immortal Investigation

Or 3 times she suspects he's immortal and 1 time she finds out.

Tags: oc!character, teen!character, female!oc, detective work, middle schooler detective work, gay ppl (happy pride ya'll), neurodivergent MC, an immortal

Words: 3,383

Mr. Dahms always made Ira’s skin prickle. It's not that he was untoward or malicious… he just seemed out of place. When he was standing in the hallway greeting kids as they walked past, he looked odd. When he was talking to the other teachers, he looked stiff. Ira used to assume that he was only awkward - until she had him for 8th grade history. 

In class, Mr. Dahms was in his element. He was lively, loud, and walked around the room with enthusiasm as he taught about the French Revolution and the Emancipation Proclamation. He talked about history as if he was there when it happened. As if he witnessed it. 

Ira didn’t have a problem with Mr. Dahms. She had a problem with letting things go. This was one of the many instances where she couldn’t shake her suspicions. She couldn’t stop the constant wandering every time she walked into his class. She couldn’t stop thinking this man was older than he let on. Ira swore Mr. Dahms was immortal, but she couldn’t prove it. 

So she did what she did best - she dug.

Observation #1

Subject has been seen coughing up unknown substances.

Ira didn’t want to be too obvious during this monitoring period. After all, if he caught on and he happened to be an average human with the average lifespan (which she doubted), he would take it the wrong way. Writing notes about your teacher that have absolutely nothing to do with the class would get her suspended. Well, she thought it would. 

She wasn’t all that familiar with the discipline process at her school.

For complete privacy, Ira wrote all her notes in the back of a nondescript, spiral notebook. She believed that because she started writing at the back of the notebook, no one would find her super, secretive data. 

All that being said, she was jotting things down like she usually did before class officially started. Ira was seated at the back of the classroom with her arms in the common “don’t cheat off of me” standard when she heard a cough. She thought nothing of it until it happened again… and again, and once more. 

Finally, she looked up in concern for the poor individual that was hacking up a lung. Ira’s eyes widened when she saw it was, in fact, Mr. Dahms bent over the trash can holding his chest in both hands. From her angle, she could see that something dark and slimy was slowly slipping out of his mouth. She itched to jump out of her seat to get a closer look at what was going on before remembering she was trying to be discreet. Instead, she decided to wait for Mr. Dahms to finish his “Cocomelon Coughs” before she would casually go to the front of the class to “get a tissue”.

It took Mr. Dahms 64 seconds for his hacking to cease. It took him three seconds to stand up straight and face the handful of 13 year olds that were whispering to each other for the whole duration of his episode. 

Mr. Dahms said, “I guess I brought something back from overseas.”

When, Ira thought, had Mr. Dahms gone overseas? He couldn’t have gone during Spring Break. Because of snow days, her school’s Spring Break had been more of a “Spring Breeze.” It would have been impractical for Mr. Dahms to take a plane to another country on Thursday and be back by the following Monday. 

She deemed it impossible.

Ira’s peers were back on their phones soon after Mr. Dahms gave his flimsy excuse. No one suspected anything but her. She was the only one really paying attention. What did Mr. Dahms cough up, and where did it come from? 

 The tapping of her foot was the only thing keeping Ira sane. Class had now started, but it hadn’t been long enough for her to get a tissue without appearing shady. Plus, she had to set up the process of “getting  a tissue” which included “getting the sniffles.” Ira was very serious about this part because if someone asked her why she needed a tissue, her plan would be ruined. 

It took two minutes and seven seconds to finish the “getting a tissue” process. Mr. Dahms had not moved, and none of her classmates had moved, but when Ira went to thow her lightly used Kleenex in the trash, the dark, slimy substance was no longer there.

Subject’s bodily fluids look to have super absorbent abilities. More  tests are required.

Substance = living dead Bubonic Plague (???)

Observation #2

Subject maintains homeostasis with only two hours of sleep.

Ira didn’t like the idea of using this bit of evidence. She didn’t think that hearing about Mr. Dahms being up in the demon hours was sound enough to be put into her notes… until she noticed that it was common knowledge. To everyone. Everyone but her.

After Ira got over the fact that she was so out of the loop even the teacher’s children looked at her weird, she started interviewing people. She knew that asking Mr. Dahms if he needed any sleep to stay sane was not going to blow over well. That was a breach of privacy.

Surely she would get suspended for it.

Ira knew that only secondary sources were obtainable to her, but how obtainable was still in question. As observant as she was, Ira had never observed any techniques to acquire friends. She tried it when she was in 5th grade. The little girl she befriended, Dynasti, didn’t take well to her constant statements about how her outfits never quite matched.

All that being said, Ira was nervous how the student population would react to her asking questions. She didn’t want to be stuffed into a locker (even if she could easily get out. Just because she could pick a lock from the inside didn’t mean she wanted to).

Recording #1 - James Apricot (7th grade athlete)

Ira: You… the basketball team. You’re on it - am I correct?

James: Yeah, I am. That’s actually where I’m going right now-

Ira: This won’t take long. Plus, this is much more important than your trivial game.

[Recording ends] 

James Apricot did not take kindly to the insult of his beloved ball game. Ira had tried to chase him down, but as much as she hated to admit it, James was extremely fast. No wonder he was on both the varsity basketball team as well as the varsity track and field team.

Ira learned two things from this recording, 1) Insulting sports teams would lead to the premature end of an interview and 2) James would have been the perfect interviewee because Mr. Dahms coaches the track team and is the assistant coach for the basketball team.

Recording #2 - Athena McCorvey (8th grade cheerleader)

Ira: You cheer for both the basketball team and the football team, am I correct?

Athena: Yep. Head cheerleader for both.

Ira: Um… good for you? 

[Ira coughs]

Ira: Have you interacted with Mr. Dahms during your extracurriculars?

Athena: Uh… yeah, but he’s not my coach, he coaches the guys. Why? Are you thinking about trying out?

[Athena snickers]

Ira: Goodness no. I find the idea of a sport where women are to dance and look sexy only so men can do better at their sport, well, repulsing.

Athena: I get where you’re coming from, but I don’t cheer for that reason. I cheer so I’ll feel pretty.

Ira: You're kidding! You must know that you are one of the most physically attractive and emotionally attractive people in this school, right? Why would you find comfort in these judgmental oafs thinking you’re pretty when they hardly know the definition of the word?

[Recording ends]

Ira learned many things from her interview with Athena. Firstly, Ira should have befriended Athena rather than Dynasti all those years ago. Athena didn’t take offense to Ira’s blunt observations like most people and instead added onto them with something equally as insightful. Secondly, for the sake of the investigation, this interview wasn’t at all necessary. Athena knew of Mr. Dahms, but only in passing. There was nothing the cheerleader knew that Ira hadn’t already analyzed.

And lastly, the recording with Athena was, just like James’, prematurely stopped. This was because Athena had kissed Ira and Ira didn’t feel as if that would have been appropriate for her professional recording. It will be documented, however, that Ira was invited to Athena’s exclusive birthday party on the Wednesday coming. 

Recording #3 - Nathan Tiddle (6th grade track runner)

Ira: Mr. Dahms is your direct coach, am I correct?

Nathan: Yep. Why are you asking? Is his birthday coming up or something? Do I need to get him-

Ira: No, no, no. This isn’t about his birthday. This is about Mr. Dahms’ circadian rhythms.

Nathan: His what?

Ira: His sleep schedule, Nathan. What do you know about it?

Nathan: I know he comes to school at 4 in the morning to set up the track the way he wants it. 

Ira: How do you know this?

Nathan: It’s common knowledge on the track team. Coach Dahms also tells us about it everyday at the beginning and end of practice. I don’t know if he’s trying to guilt-trip us into running faster cause if that’s what he’s trying to do, it’s working.

Ira: Is Mr. Dahms irritable or moody when he cleans the track at 4 in the morning?

Nathan: No. He does it everyday and everyday he always acts the same. Cheerful, nice, and - you know - he’s a coach, so he’s gonna be a [redacted].

Ira: Do you know how much he sleeps each night specifically?

James: 1 to 2 hours.

Nathan: Hey, this was my interview!

James: Shut it, little baby. 

James: Coach Dahms only sleeps 1 to 2 hours each night. Even on weekends. He’s always calling the school or being at the school at ungodly hours because he has nothing else to do and he’s never tired. Ever.

Nathan: …I could have said that.

Ira: Thank you for your input, Nathan. And James.

Nathan: Not a problem! This detective thing you’ve got going on is so cool!

[Nathan walks over to his friends]

Ira: James, I am sorry if I insulted your sport earlier today.

James: No biggie. 

[James gives Ira a “noogie”]

[Recording ends]

This was the most informative interview yet. Ira confirmed not only that Mr. Dahms functions on 1 to 2 hours of sleep, but he is never tired. No one has seen him yawn or rub his eyes. No one has ever seen him sleep. It would have been amazing if Ira could get an interview with Mr. Dahms’ wife, but even Ira knew that would be extremely difficult. As well as creepy. Yes, the creepy part was the first thing that crossed her mind.

On top of more evidence for Mr. Dahms being immortal, Ira learned that James did not, in fact, want to shove her in a locker then go on to high five his friends. James thought Ira was “chill”. Ira found it comforting that James would be one of the people gathering for Athena’s birthday celebration.

Nathan was annoying, but after some intelligently placed redirectioning, he was telling Ira all she needed to know. Ira wasn’t the happiest when he used foul language in her tape but censoring his colorful adjective wasn’t the worst part of her day. Plus, Nathan was, as James put it, a baby. Ira would let his loose lips go unpunished. This time. Ira had already warned him what would happen if expletives were used in her recording again.

Subject continues to have peak cognitive function with minimal sleep.

Athletes are nicer than they seem.

Athena likes penguins. *added to personal journal

Dahms has a continuous positive attitude. Is this because living longer makes you focus on the better things in life?

Observation #3

Subject taught my mother. And my grandmother.

The weekend had come, so Ira had decided to take 2 deserved days off from the Immortal Investigation. Ira believed strongly in caring for one’s mental health. She concluded it was because her mother did psych evaluations for the local fire and police departments. Many of the people who worked at those two places would have been better off if they took time to reflect on themselves.

Ira was in the middle of doing a deep clean for the lower level of her house when she found something quite interesting. For some reason, she’d never seen it before and Ira is the one and only cleaner of the Montgomery household.

She had found her grandmother’s highschool yearbook. To be honest, it almost made Ira tear up. Her grandmother had passed away just 3 years ago due to surgery complications. Her mother’s mom was where Ira got most of her detective-like qualities. When she was younger, she swore her grandmother worked for the CIA because of how attentive and observant she was. Her grandmother blamed it on motherhood which was a shame because Ira didn’t plan on ever having kids. She found people very confusing. Why would she add another person - that can’t talk - to the equation?

Ira was flipping through the pages looking for her grandmother’s maiden name when she caught a glimpse of a familiar face. She almost dropped the book in shock. The face was in the teachers section of the yearbook in between Mr. Daes and Ms. Didyoung. The face wore a white, fluffy beard and circular glasses. The face… was Mr. Dahms.

It wasn’t possible. How did her history teacher look the exact same as he did now than he did a good 60 years ago? Just how long had Mr. Dahms been teaching? 

Adding onto the fact the Mr. Dahms had also taught her mother, this only confirmed Ira’s suspicions. Mr. Dahms was most definitely an immortal. He didn’t seem to age, he didn’t sleep, and he was a carrier to an identifiable amount of diseases. She knew what she had to do.

It was time to confront him.

Observation period has ended.

Confirmation of results will commence.

Conclusion

Ira sat in the back of her history class with an irremovable smile on her face. When the bell rang, her classmates would file out, but she would stay. She would stay and confront this immortal being. She would show him all the observations she collected thus far, and he would be speechless. He would be caught.

But what did Ira want to do after Mr. Dahms admitted to being immortal? She had no knowledge of him hurting anyone. If anything, he was using the fact that he was immortal to better society. He was teaching children, for goodness sake! As much as outing Mr. Dahms would be a trivial activity, Ira yearned to do it. This was her first real investigation that had actually gone somewhere. She had to see it through.

Plus, Athena was waiting for updates. Ira had gotten into the habit of texting the cheerleader and Athena would actually respond to her. It was great. Athena made sure Ira understood any of the pop culture references she made, and lended a listening ear to Ira’s scientific queries.

Ring!

It was finally time. Ira was shaking in excitement as she waited for her classmates to shuffle out the room. She gathered her super, secret notebook and walked to the front of the classroom were Mr. Dahms seemed to be waiting for her.

“Miss Montgomery! What can I do for you?”

Ira took a calming breath, “I have been observing you, Mr. Dahms and the notes I have made show some interesting results. Here.” Ira handed Mr. Dahms her notebook.

Subject has been seen coughing up unknown substances.

Subject’s bodily fluids look to have super absorbent abilities. More  tests are required.

Substance = living dead Bubonic Plague (???)

Subject maintains homeostasis with only two hours of sleep.

Subject continues to have peak cognitive function with minimal sleep.

Dahms has a continuous positive attitude. Is this because living longer makes you focus on the better things in life?

Subject taught my mother. And my grandmother.

Observation period has ended.

Confirmation of results will commence.

Mr. Dahms read through the pages, his eyes widening with each line read. Ira couldn’t get rid of the smug smile on her face. She had got him.

“As you can see, my observations have led to one conclusion,” Ira straightened he blouse, “You, Mr. Dahms, are an immortal being.”

Ira didn’t think Mr. Dahms would burst out laughing. This was not how this was supposed to go.

Mr. Dahms eventually got himself under control, “Ira, you are an observant little girl, I’ll admit, but you only see what you want to see. This whole “Immortal Investigation” was under my control from the beginning.”

“N-no, that can’t be true-”

“It is, dear. I gave you this wild goose chase that you would find extremely interesting so you would get out of your own head. So that you would go and talk to other people your age. I just wanted you to make friends.”

“Mr. Dahms-” Ira was cut off once again.

“And you did, right? Athena says hi to you in the hallway and the track team can’t stop talking about you. You won, Ira, but not in the way you might have wanted to.”

Ira was speechless. This was not how this was supposed to go. Mr. Dahms was supposed to be speechless. Ira was supposed to feel victorious, but all she felt was the bittersweet end to a botched investigation. Maybe he was right. Maybe she only saw what she wanted to see.

“There’s no need to be upset. Your persistence was admirable.”

“Yes, but I was wrong,” Ira hung her head in shame.

“Everyone’s wrong once in a while. Learn from it. Chin up, detective.”

No. It didn’t matter what Mr. Dahms said. Ira was wrong. She was wrong and now she was extremely upset. She was so sure of herself that she’d dragged other people into her investigation and now they would know of her failure. This was horrible.

She skipped watching cheer practice that day. Ira went home with her head still hung. 

He wiped sweat off of his brow and steadied his breathing. Mr. Dahms sat at his desk in shock at what had just happened. Ira Montgomery had figured it out all by herself. The only other person who had even come close to figuring out what he was was… Ira’s grandmother. Mary Ann didn’t have enough evidence to support her claim, so she gave up.

Ira… he hadn’t even suspected her. She was quiet and didn’t have many friends. She did what she was supposed to do and never asked for any extra help. She was practically invisible to him. Not even the track team had spoken a peep about her interviewing his athletes. 

He was blindsighted.

Mr. Dahms was lucky he had plenty of experience thinking on his feet or he would have fumbled right in her trap.

It wasn’t like his life would be in danger if people found out he was immortal. It just wasn’t something he told people. Well, besides his wives. He didn’t think it was fair for them to be left in the dark about something like that. They were partners after all.

How he became immortal was unclear. He was born during the days of horse and buggy, diseases, and slavery. He was relatively normal. Nothing happened to him that would have said otherwise, but when the time came where his family started dying and he didn’t… he began to grow suspicious. 

Mr. Dahms could catch illnesses, but he wouldn’t be affected by them. He would simply be a carrier, just like Ira had hypothesized. Sometimes he would cough them up, but that wasn’t a common occurrence. No, he didn’t need that much sleep. This phenomenon only started happening after he reached the age of 150. He didn’t know why.

Mr. Dahms thought maybe it was time to move on from this town. 2 people suspecting him in under 100 years? It made him uncomfortable. But, then again, it could be fine. He preferred to experience as little change as possible.

He’d wait another 200 years.

Somehow Supernatural

Chapter 5: Witch Women Run The World

Summary: Casey meets Rowena.

Tags: oc!character, teen!oc, superpowered!oc, gn!oc, pretty witch, mother/son relationship (between Crowley and Rowena)

A/N: This chapter is pretty short cause I can't drag things out for the life of me. I'm working on it, I swear.

Crowley wasn’t lying. He didn’t drive here, someone else drove him. I mean, if I was the ruler of Hell, I wouldn’t drive myself around either… but as the ruler of a badass realm, couldn’t he have gotten something cooler than a car? 

I would usually just ask, but I decided against it. He may have been nice to me so far, but I don’t wanna piss him off. He’s still a demon and could most definitely beat my ass. I am not up for that smoke.

“So… where are we going?” I was sat in the left-side seat in the back of Crowley’s car. Crowley was sitting right next to me.

“I don’t know if you can handle Hell yet,” I sat up straighter in my seat, “So we’re going somewhere that I own, but it’s on Earth.”

I was kinda disappointed that he thought I couldn’t handle Hell. I had seen his throne room plenty of times while watching the show. I had even seen the dungeons. Being there in real life couldn’t be that different. Plus, I wanted to see Rowena. She hung out in Hell by the time Sam and Dean lived in the bunker, right?

“Um…” I started. I wanted to ask the King of Hell about his mother, but I wasn’t sure how he’d react. I mean, they didn’t have the best track record.

“Spit it out, child,” Crowley commented nonchalantly.

“I - um… am I gonna get to meet Rowena?”

Crowley’s head snapped to mine, “How do you know my mother?” He asked suspiciously.

“Well,” Again, I didn’t feel like it was the safest option to tell people about how they were in a show that I binged so, I responded with, “I’m just a big fan of hers.”

Crowley didn’t look fully convinced, but he let it drop. I was glad. I’m not all that good with confrontation, so I probably would have let the truth spill if he kept pestering me.

We didn’t talk for the rest of the ride. I just stared out of the window and sometimes took a look in the rearview mirror to see whoever was driving. Obviously, it was a demon. I’m assuming he was low-ranked. Every time we locked eyes, he would make his eyes turn black. I don’t know if he thought he was scary or what. It was kind of embarrassing on his part.

It had been about an hour car ride before we finally came to a stop. I was itching to get out. The excitement of riding in the same car as the ruler of Hell had worn off by the 25-minute mark. I never liked riding in cars much because, in my original body, I was pretty tall so it was always uncomfortable. In the body I had now, I could stretch out and stuff but, my ass was so fucking boney. I couldn’t feel it and it was starting to be really uncomfy.

So, yeah, I’m glad we finally made it to our destination.

Which was a… warehouse? Really, Crowley? So original. It was pretty big and it didn't look that run down. There were a few people - sorry demons - walking around. Not sure what they were doing, but they looked busy.

“Child,” Crowley called back to me. I was looking around like a kid in a candy store, so I didn’t notice that Crowley had walked halfway to the warehouse doors.

I ran to keep up.

Running hurt my knees which hurt my heart. How could this body not allow me to run without any pain? I loved running. Running was my thing. The only sport my parents put me in that I actually liked. I was good at it. 

Welp, at least I had magic or some shit.

Two demons opened the door for Crowley and me. I felt like I was the King of Hell. 

I looked around the expansive interior of the building. It didn’t look like a warehouse at all. It looked like a crappy ballroom… which was a compliment. The floors were splintery wood, the walls were a tan color, the windows were draped with red floor-to-ceiling curtains, and there was a throne. The throne sat a couple of steps up from the rest of the room, and it looked like it was already occupied.

I turned to see Crowley’s face. He looked mildly annoyed.

“Mother, get out of my chair,” he huffed.

At his words, a short redhead stood from the throne. She was wearing a flowing emerald green dress that had intricate patterns sewn in made of jewels. Her fire-red hair was in a half-up-half-down hairstyle which did wonders for her jawline. She looked magical, and she was.

“Holy fucking shit on a brick,” I mouthed breathlessly. 

“Such a foul mouth for such a small little thing,” Rowena chuckled at me.

Not being able to stop myself I said, “Says you.”

I clamped my mouth shut thinking I messed up big time and that I was gonna die from a painful hex, but the witch just smiled. 

“Such a fierce soul,” She placed her hand on her hip, “I like it.”

Oh my god. Oh my god! Oh my god! Rowena, the most beautiful and most powerful witch in existence, just said she liked me. Me! I am most definitely moving up in the world.

“Mother, this child has powers,” Crowley gestured to me like I was on display, “They have the potential to be as strong as you. They just need a teacher.”

Crowley wants his mother to teach me? 

“I’m assuming you want me to teach them?” Rowena asks with a raised eyebrow.

It didn’t seem like she was too on board with the idea. I know in the show she usually does things only if they benefit her, and making another person who is just as strong as her doesn’t really seem like a benefit. I mean, I know that I would never ever ever try to attack someone like Rowena, but she just met me. She’ll probably say no.

“Hmm, I don’t see why not.”

I started jumping around like I was on an invisible pogo stick. Or like a frog. I wasn’t really trying to imitate anything; I was just excited. I can’t believe I would be getting trained by Rowena to hone my magic skills. Magic skills. I never thought I would have magic, but here I am. Having magic. Jumping around in one of Crowley’s hideouts. 

…embarrassing myself in front of the most powerful witch in the world.

I stopped jumping, “Thank you for the opportunity, ma’am.”

“Ma’am?” Rowena put a hand to her chest, “I’m not that old-”

“Yes, you are,” mumbled Crowley.

“Shut your mouth, boy.” From the glare that Rowena was giving him, Crowley shut up quick, “As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, you can just call me Rowena.”

I gave the witch a smile, “Okay, Rowena.”

With that, Rowena turned to her son, “Are we heading to Hell now?”

“That’s not a good idea Mother-”

“They can handle it just fine. Right?”

I wasn’t sure what I could handle. I didn’t know if I was gonna die from shock or melt to ash, but one thing is for sure: I was gonna take the risk. Who doesn’t want to get a trailer of the place they’re going to go when they die?

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I announced. I started to steel myself for what was to come.

“...alright,” Crowley finally conceded.

With a snap of his fingers, we were off.

A/N: TO HELL! Nothing bad will happen... right??