Tales of Intrigue

Art by LettieBoBettie

This is pre-season 6, because I haven’t seen all of it.  After Cas loses most of his powers.

~*~

It all ended with an ass-hole, piece-of-shit demon who thought he could best Dean Winchester.  They had drugged him and poofed him out into the middle of a freezing graveyard somewhere in the mid-west, judging by the alarmingly frigid temperature.  They tied him up to a grave stone and Dean could have burned his way out of the ropes he was so pissed.

“When I get out of this, you sons of bitches, I’m going to eat you for BREAKFAST!” he hollered, it had no effect on the demons, but it did make him feel a little better.  ”What do you want with me anyway?”  They’d pretty much left him alone since Michael had claimed his body for his own private Let’s Destroy Earth tour.

The demon reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone.  Dean’s brow furrowed, trying to keep up.  Who the fuck were they calling?  ”My brother’s not stupid enough to fall for this.”

“Shut up,” came the reply.  ”I’m not calling your brother.”

Cas?  Bobby?  One of those two, it had to be.  ”Neither are Cas or Bobby.  They’ll know it’s a trap,” he said, pulling on the ropes, and wished he was wearing his jacket.  The demon walked away from him and Dean saw red.  ”Don’t you walk away from me!  Come back here!”

Cas DID arrive, and he looked a little woozy for it, but at least no passing out or bloody nose this time.  ”CAS!  CAS!  It’s a TRAP!”  But the demons were all ready upon him and he didn’t have the might nor the faith to withstand them the way he should have.  He wasn’t a push-over by anyone standards, but the demons were vicious and fast. Too fast.

Dean stood and pulled the ropes with him up the slick marble.  The monument he was tied to was too high to get his hands off of, but it gave him enough slack to get the jack-knife out of his pocket and get to work cutting the rope.  He needn’t have bothered, because Castiel had fought them off.  His nose was a little purple, but he gave Dean a smile.

“I’m not so weak yet that 3 lower demons can best me,” he said tipping his head a little to look at Dean’s tied hands.

“Well?  Don’t just stand there!  Untie me!  And how was I supposed to know?  Seems to me, one day soon you’ll wake up and be…” he stopped, realizing too late that he’d been saying something stupid and insensitive…AGAIN.  ”Sorry.”

“No no, you can say it.  Human, I know,” the angel said, moving around behind to untie the rope.  He had just gotten Dean’s hands free when there was a terrible pain through his back and chest.  He gave a little grunt of surprise and looked down to see a sword sticking through his chest.  How… archaic.

“You don’t have to say it like it’s a ba…CAS!”  Dean turned to look at his friend and startled blue eyes met terrified green.  ”SHIT!”  He kicked the demon off of Cas with a fury.  The demon fell and pulled the sword with him.  Castiel fell to the ground in a heap, not graceful or beautiful like a falling angel should have been.  No fire or falling stars.  Just Cas, the tombstone and the moon.

Dean wrenched the sword from the demon’s grip and stabbed the demon in the face with it.  Then everything was quiet, except for Castiel’s gasping for air.  ”Fuck!”  Dean swore and fell to his knees.  ”C’mon Cas,” he said, his hands shaking with fear.  It couldn’t end this way.  He pulled the angel off his side and into his own lap.  ”Christ…” there was so much blood.  Too much blood.  Blood coming from Castiel’s mouth, his nose…his chest.  Dear GOD, his chest.  Dean pressed a hand to the wound and Castiel arched a little in pain.

“Dean!  Dean…don’t,” the deep voice was even deeper, rough with pain, choked with blood.

“Why don’t you heal?!”  Dean asked, rocking him a little.  ”C’mon.  3 demons, easy, remember?”  He didn’t buy his own con.  This was bad.  Cas was dying, fast, and Dean…he was helpless.

“I may have…overestimated my…chances,” Castiel told him honestly.  ”Dean?”

“W-what?”  he cradled Cas’s head in his hands.  This was stupid.  It was wrong and stupid and pissing him off.  ”If you say somethin’ corny, I’m gonna…”

His snide remark was cut off by Castiel arching in his arms as the pain shot through him.  ”Dean…” he said again, licking his lips, trying to rid them of blood enough to speak.  ”I’m afraid,” he looked at Dean with his perfect blue eyes, watching him for an answer.

“What’re you afraid of, Cas?”  He had to ask, didn’t he?

“If…I’m not human…and I’m not…an angel…what happens to me when I die?”  He asked, his brow pinched with pain, words were coming harder, but this was important.  He had to know.  ”I…I don’t have a soul.  Will…I…just stop being?”  His eyes welled and spilled over.  ”Dean…I don’t want to…I don’t…”

Castiel died, mid-breath, and Dean was left with his body.  He hugged him close, resting his temple on Cas’s forehead as he cried quietly.  ”Of course you won’t, Cas,” he said, too late, of course.  Always too late.  ”You’ll be fine.  I’ll find you.  I’ll get you back.  You hold on…wherever you are,” he said, and hoped it wasn’t just him lying to himself.  ”I’ll get you back.”

By: http://sonsofthesea.tumblr.com/

The Power Of Silence

—

It was the first time that Loki actually winced away from Thor when he motioned at him, the first time that a punch was met with more then a glare and a shove back.  Thor wasn’t even entirely sure how he was going to handle it… And unfortunately he didn’t get much time to think about it before Loki was gone.  The larger of the brothers gave a bit of a curse, stomping his foot and looking around the room.  His brother had just vanished, using his magics no doubt to slip away while he wasn’t paying complete attention.

Thor growled faintly now, smacking the empty plate off of the table first, testing to see if it made him feel better before he shoved more off as well.  He was angry at himself, angry that he hadn’t noticed the changes, that he hadn’t noticed Loki standing farther away from him every day, that he hadn’t seen the smaller mans weary look whenever he moved quickly or lifted his hands.

His playful punching and shoving had gotten strong enough that he was hurting the most important person in his life.  With a shout the whole table followed next before anyone even dared to come into the room.  His chest was rising and falling rapidly, turning on his heel at the sound of feet.  He was praying for it to be Loki, so he could explain. maybe even apologize, but no, the only person to walk in was Fandral.

“You should not be here, Fandral, You know my temper.”  He says this shortly, walking over to the man he so often spared and quarreled with, pleased that he did not shrink away or run.

That was only Loki.

His demeanor must have changed at that thought, because Fandral reached out and carefully pat the still growing man on the shoulder, offering a strange half smile.  “I know how to fight you Thor.  but that’s not what you need right now.   Right now I’d suggest a wo—”  Thor’s hand lifted to push slightly at the man for the comment, shaking his head.  “I’ll not bed a woman in this angered state.  Only you would result to that.”

Fandral shrugged off the statement, deciding to take it as a compliment that he’d had so many women that it was normal now for him to constantly mention it.   He rather liked it actually.  “I imagine your anger lies with Loki then, Thor?”

As Soon as Fandral mentioned his brothers name Thor was paying attention again, stepping right up to him and cocking his head slightly to the side.  “How would you know?  Have you seen him?  Where has he gone?   Tell me, Fandral!”  He asked these questions in rather rapid succession, getting a bit louder near the end before finally ending with a shout.  This made the popular warrior blink, more then a little confused by the situation, but entirely happy to wait to ask about it once it was over.  This was not something he wanted to be in the middle of.   In fact, he could think of few things he’d like to be between less.

“I saw him running to the stables, though I don’t think in his state he’d go there.  But you know your brother better then I…”   Fandral gave a half interested shrug, not really wanting to let on that he did occasionally worry for the liesmith.  Occasionally, only when he had nothing better to do.  He opened his mouth to say something else, but was met with an empty space where Thor had been before.  “Is this something that this family does?  Leave?  In the middle of a conversation?”   Sure, he was talking to himself, but at least no one was around to hear him.

Thor ran fast, he ran swiftly, heading straight to the stables only to stop midway there, a shock of green catching his eye down a smaller hallway, turning back to get a proper look as he watched his brother turn another corner.  He knew where he was going now.  An old room they used to frequent as children, filled with boxes and books removed from the library for repairs.  It always used to be a quiet spot for them to hide until Heimdal told their father.

He wanted to run.  Needed to run right in there and explain himself, but he didn’t want to scare Loki anymore then he already had today.  So Thor, for once, truly gathered himself and walked, clenching and relaxing his hands at his side several times before he reached the room.  There was a split second of hesitation before he pulled open the door and slipped inside, making sure to shut it behind him so that at least if Loki tried to run again, it would be a bit more difficult. 

“You ran from me, Brother.   You used magics on me and you ran.”  Great way to start the conversation Thor, so slick.  He shook his head faintly, moving over to the figure currently sat on a wooden box in the middle of the room, waiting for him to turn, for him to do anything before he reached out to touch.

“Had I tried to simply walk away you would have stopped me.  I’d had my fill of supper and was hoping to get a little study in.”  Lies, always, but he wasn’t exactly sure if he wanted his brother to know yet that he had stopped growing, that he’d stopped getting stronger.  He didn’t really want Thor or anyone in the castle to know that he wasn’t going to be the same as the other prince.

They both had secrets, and neither of them would really want to say it without some serious provocation.  “You could have just told me, Loki.”  He says this a bit snappier then he intended to, the response in much the same tone, though Loki always seemed to get a bit of a growl in when he started to anger.  “You would not have listened.  You never do!  You would laugh, smack me in the back, then drag me off to watch you and Fandral fight, or worse, to fight with one of you two.”  The smaller princes shoulders pinched back as he said this, finally turning to look at the other man, forcing himself to his feet and standing as tall as he could.  He was shorter then Thor now, and his shoulders were much thinner. 

It seemed like they’d changed almost over night.

Loki swallowed hard, and Thor could see the light tremble in his lips, he wanted to shout back about how it was a warriors thing to do, to get stronger, but he pressed his lips together, both hands reaching out slowly to just touch his brother, right hand moving to caress his cheek as the other brushed a lock of hair behind his ear.  “I love you more then anyone, Brother.  You know I would never hurt you.   Not on purpose.”  As he said this the light tremble of Loki’s lips worsened, those thin brows pinching up and together.

Thor decided here and now that he hated it when Loki looked like this, that he was no longer going to let his little brother be this sad or frightened, let alone because of him. “You know this, Loki.  I do not know my own strength.”  Thor offered the smallest of smiles no, letting his thumb tun along the quivering upper lip, traveling along his angled cheek bones, stopping only when Loki’s own hands came up to take hold of his wrist.

Nothing needed to be said, he didn’t need to comment on how they would carry on, or how it would change.  Thor knew now that he was getting to be too rough.  Thor knew that he would need to watch his strength with the magic user.

Nothing needed to be said.

—

Written by: Vote-H-Saxon

A little Relaxation.

—

If Loki had to pick his favorite thing about the Bifrost, it would be the ability to get away from anything, for him to run and hide himself for at least a few hours.  It was the ability to see a world so entirely different then his home.  Tonight was no different, he’d been in an argument with Thor’s friends, he’d been called a cheat, and a liar and all sorts of things he never was fond of hearing. 

He had so many choices as well.   He could go to Vanaheim… The place of water and Shenanigans.  Perhaps the realm of Alfheim would not be for him, Nor Midgar, not today at least.  Jotunheim was forbidden.  And the rest of the lower realms were not for entertainment, nor enjoyment.

He would go to Vanaheim.  He would relax, he would take his time to unwind before he wound up returning quips with Fandral and Lady Sif. 

His mind was made up, he smiled faintly to himself at the decision before he cleaned up his current distraction, setting aside the books and standing, a hand running along the thick leather outfit.  He was rather excited actually to be out of the thick clothing, always favoring the cold a little more then the heat.  He was thinking on this as he readied his horse, happily saddling up and riding swiftly along the bifrost, distracted enough at the idea of relaxation he didn’t quite notice the horse following behind him. 

“Heimdall.  Is it possible for me to travel to Vanaheim?”  He says this softly, trying to get used to telling the truth to this man, having learned by now that any little trick or game he had would fail with the gate keeper.  “You know why I want to get away.  Am I allowed?” 

There was a pause before Heimdall even turned his gaze towards the younger prince, regarding him slowly in an up and down manner before heaving a heavy sigh.  “I will allow it… But know this.  No matter your state, I will gather you in an hour… Time there is slower than here, do not start a war.”  The keepers voice was deep, unsettling and yet soothing to him.  It seemed to just confuse him.

Loki gave a simple nod, dismounting in one swift and rather graceful movement, patting the horse gently on her neck before leading her around.  He trusted she would return back, she knew the way… After all, he’d done this many times. 

With smooth steps and a smile flicking over his lips, Loki moved past the larger man, waiting patiently for he Bifrost to open for him, to be sucked through the rainbow road and deposited somewhere he hoped to be more welcoming then his cold room.

And he was right, smiling wide when he found himself deposited in a large plane, a patch of forest to his right and a small river leading past him.  It was gorgeous, fertile, and all he could dream of.  Loki took two steps towards the forest before the Bifrost opened behind him again, jumping back with wide eyes as his brother was deposited right behind him.  “Thor.   Really, I’m not going to do anything I just wante—.”  He was cut off by a strong arm looping around his shoulders and dragging him in close.  “Brother!  Next time you come to Vanaheim, Take me with!”

The younger of the brothers sighed heavily, squirming for about a moment before just giving in, and leaning against him, breathing simply to keep himself from getting angry at his brother.  “I wanted to come to relax, Thor.”  He couldn’t keep himself from sounding irritated, turning his head to look up at he egotistical man.   

“We will, Loki. We’ll bathe, we’ll eat and we’ll relax.”

Written By : Vote-H-Saxon

Will continue after work If this is well received.  <3

Tale of Two Hats

—

You ask any Pyro worth their weight in lighter fluid, and they’ll say that they aren’t wearing a mask, that it’s just their face.  They’d tell you that it’s never off because that would be strange, that it would be uncomfortable for them and most any of their teammates.  So the Masks stayed on. 

Now, you ask any other Pyro, where they get their hats, and they will proudly start to ramble about it, most of the time, you wouldn’t get an answer you can understand due to the Mask deal mentioned above, but if you watch their hands as they talk, you can understand perfectly what they were talking about.  For instance, one red Pyro began to motion sneaking with one hand, the other trying to act like a door. 

From this, we can get that he sneaked into a room.  As he continued to explain it would become easier to see how it all went down.  Late at night, this Pyro sneaked into the Engineers room and grabbed one of his gloves, why he felt the need to, we will probably never know,  but he stretched the glove over his head and he wore it proudly.

Another Pyro would explain that he stole his from a fireman, many years ago, and that he really just found it funny to wear when he set things on fire. 

For one reason or another, Pryos don’t usually interact, they spend their time working, or fine tuning their weapon, but they two Pyros seemed to take an instant liking to each other, standing, babbling, understanding every word the other fire maniac said.  This probably would have been a perfectly happy friendship, were it not for the Scout who walked by, shouted some sort of gay slur, before shoving the gloved Pyro towards the other.

Their masks met with a solid clunk.  There was a pause as they both straightened out, kicked at the dust at their feet.  Several seconds went by with naught a sound spare the Scout’s cackles.

And then silence.  The Pyro with the Fire mans hat shifted, before motioning over his shoulder, towards the barracks.  With an enthusiastic nod, the gloved Pyro took the others arm, trotting off back to the main building.

—

Written By : Vote-H-Saxon