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— Sonya Karp, The Golden Lily (via zoeyrps)
Wynter looked up from the inventory list she’d been pouring over for most of the afternoon, offering the not-so-little-anymore fledgling. “Of course you can, sweetheart, you know I’m always here to listen.” she replied, ducking beneath the counter for a moment to pull a pair of black cherry sodas from the tiny fridge, offering one to David.
"Thank Dad," the archangel mutters. "I dunno what I would do if that little guy got hurt." Sighing, he agrees, "I’ll be there for dinner. What’s my little bro think on the subject of the little brat Davie decked?"
That sentiment would never not be funny to the bookseller, not that she would allow herself to laugh at it for fear of pissing off an Archangel turned Trickster, not to mention her husband and his other kin.
"Wonderful, I’ll set you a place. As for Balthazar, he’s in the same boat I’m in, at least as far as I can tell. He and his mother need to be taken down several pegs. Heaven help me, I never actually thought I’d be saying that about someone…Hell, never thought I’d be recruiting an Archangel into this sort of thing, either. What has my life come to, Gabriel?" she asked with a soft chuckle. "Anyway, come over whenever you’d like. Dinner will be ready in half an hour or so, though I’m sure David would love to hang out with you before hand."
She was ready. “Are you sure? It’s only been forty five years since you went to pack.” Dean was willing to give her all of the time that she needed. That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to be teased. “I can wait another twenty, if you need it.” A smile lit up his amused expression. Winchester was proud of himself; for being so downright adorable. “I’ll get your bags. Baby is downstairs.” Reaching into his pocket, he snatched the keys up and tossed them her way. “Warm her up?” That’s when he knew that she was special. Wyn might not have noticed, but Dean didn’t hand those keys to anyone, not without a damn good reason.
After collecting the luggage, he toted her things down to the impala and loaded up. He wasn’t going to miss the area, he wasn’t going to miss Sam, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to miss work. This time was for him and Wyn. They needed it. Plus, he wanted to know what she looked like underneath him. The man had his motives.
Eventually, Dean took his place behind the wheel. Maybe he crushed on Wyn, but it wasn’t enough to actually let her drive. As they pulled away from her place, he turned the radio on; Cheap Trick playing low. “Sorry about not flying you or taking the train. We haven’t really talked about it, but I drive or I don’t go.” His shoulder came up into a careless shrug. While he rambled, his eyes stayed on the road. “Figured you’d say no anyway.” There was that slight grin again. “Had I counted on a yes then things would’ve been different.” Glancing her way, he added, “Next time.”
"Oh, I don’t know. I’m sure I could find another twenty years of packing if I really tried. I may need more shoes, or maybe I should go through and color coordinate all of my clothes with nail polishes to bring with me." she mused, trying so hard to keep a straight face. She was failing, she knew she was, lips quivering and turning up at the corners as her smile broke through. That smile was replaced by a look of shock, however, as Dean fished out the keys to the Impala parked out on the street, tossing them in her direction. Thank all the powers that be that she managed to catch those damn keys, as lord only knew how Dean would handle it if they were dropped. The bookseller knew just how important that car was to Dean, how he treasured and cherished it and how it wasn’t just anyone that he allowed into the driver’s seat.
"O-Oh….Yeah, sure thing." she managed to reply, offering the hunter a nod. Wow…Wynter picked herself up, grabbed her purse and headed down to the street, easily sliding into the shining black chariot that was standing by to whisk the pair away to a glorious, not to mention long overdue, vacation. The key slid easily into the ignition, the well maintained engine roaring to life as she turned it. Wynter loved that sound, the way the engine purred. Only the Impala sounded like that, no other engine ever came close….Maybe that was why she was so fond of the roar of it, because she knew that with that sound came a particular hunter that had managed to capture her attention and her heart.
The young bookseller smiled at the thought, reflecting for a moment or so before carefully crawling into the passenger seat, knowing Dean would want to drive. She’d offer to take over later, of course, give him a chance to nap or what have you. After all, it was going to be one hell of a long drive from Louisiana to Massachusetts.
Speak of the devil. Dean joined her in the cab, flicking on the radio before pulling away from the curb. Good bye, normal, every day life. Hello vacation! “There you are. I thought you might have decided I’d forgotten something and decided to take another fifteen years to pack it for me.” she teased, shooting the hunter a grin.
Wait…He was apologizing? “Why in god’s name are you apologizing?” she asked, quirking a brow. “Flying is dreadful and a train isn’t much better. Besides, it’s more fun to be on the road.” she added, shrugging. Of course, driving also meant that it was just the two of them, no one else around to muck up their good time.
She chuckled softly. “Why did you think I would say no, Dean?” she asked, genuinely curious. He’d come in and offered to take her away for lord only knew how long, why the hell would she say no to that? Sure, things could get a little rocky between them, but that usually had to do with the stress of a case or something else along those lines. When it was just them, left to their own devices and without any case looming over them, they were actually pretty good together, what with the laughing and joking.
I’m confused, and I don’t like it
Either you want to be with me, or you dont
Either you love me, or you don’t
I have feelings; you have feelings
and neither are toys to be played with
❝Yes, I want to be with you, more than anything.❞
She appeared out of nowhere. Just like this weird ass place, he mused. Come on, man. Dean was beyond tired; far too exhausted to notice anything out of the ordinary. Everything appeared to be on the up and up. “One of them mom and pop kind of businesses? Where they offer service whenever they damn well please?” He put on a friendly smile for the stranger; forced yet pleasant. She was talking; a lot. He may not have cared for chatty Cathy females but this one was nice to look at. His eyes followed her as she moved. “Usually I don’t mind waiting. Tonight I can barely stand.”
And why was he this worn out? And why hadn’t he pulled over to nap? Right as he started to ask himself these questions, an old man emerged from the back room. Unlike the woman, Dean didn’t give this guy as much as a smirk. He talks a lot too. Christ, just give me a room. “Yeah, buddy, I want a room. I’ve been driving since New Mexico. A room with a bed is all I need. I don’t need a fridge, an air conditioner, a safe, or a table. Only a bed with maybe a sheet that doesn’t have piss on it, and a pillow to sweeten the deal.”
The old man was staring. Dean glanced back at the female. “Right.” Again he ordered everything he wanted; this time speaking louder. Sullenly, the old bastard shoved a black book his way. Not giving a rat’s ass for grandpa’s attitude, Winchester immediately signed in. “You guys got any fun juice around here?” Unfortunately he looked up in time to meet the guy’s soured expression. “You know: alcohol, liquor, beer….” Must be uptight Christians. “Sorry, Albert.”
Quick as he could, he finished scribbling and waited for the key. Once it was his, he turned away from the odd duck who continued to stare him down like he was a criminal. “I’m not gonna steal anything,” he said abruptly, guessing that’s what the fool looks were over.
When their eyes met, he gave the girl a look that spoke volumes. Dean wanted to strangle the old fuck. He wanted a drink more. “Thanks for the help.” Continuing to watch her, he opened the door. “I’ll see you around.” Wishful thinking.
Stepping outside, he came to the conclusion that this Dixie Motel was actually the Bates judging from the looks of it. “Swear I’ve seen this place in a horror film,” he muttered under his breath. Room number 666; written on the key. “Nice.” There were like ten rooms from the looks of it. However, a few more steps and there was room number 666 in the middle. “Fuck this place.” The vibe made him rapidly become uncomfortable. Plus, “Who the hell uses real keys anymore?”
There really wasn’t a good way to respond to the whole ‘mom and pop’ thing, at least, not without giving away what the hell the place was. He didn’t look like he was ready for the truth yet, so she’d keep her mouth shut. So instead, she offered a simple ‘mhm’ for confirmation, along with another smile. He certainly did look like he was barely able to keep himself upright, the poor dear. That was probably what caused the whole thing, landed him in this state to begin with…What a way to go.
To be fair, Wynter had told him he would need to speak up, the elderly attendant only catching bits of what the irritable hunter had to say. “Prune Juice?” Al repeated, not quite catching the whole ‘fun juice’ thing.
Wynter was there, thankfully. “No, Al. Not Prune Juice.” she corrected, speaking up so he could hear her. “But yeah, there’s a bar in the restaurant. They’ve already closed up for the night, though.” she explained, grabbing one of the dusty pamphlets from the desk, offering it to Dean.
She understood that look and certainly understood his aggravation, given the fact that she’d been in his shoes about a year or so earlier. Wynter returned his glance with an apologetic smile, shrugging a little. Al was old, what could she say? “Yeah, be seeing you.” she replied. It was inevitable that they’d run into each other again, seeing as it was basically impossible to leave…
The young woman watched Dean go, only collecting her book from her seat. “You didn’t tell him.” she commented idly, glancing back at Al, the old man tucking the check-in book back onto the shelf.
"Yeah, well y’didn’t exactly offer anyt’in up either, sassafrass." the old man replied, giving her a pointed look.
Wynter shook her head, glancing back out the office window. “No…He needs to rest before that bombshell is dropped on him.” she breathed, shaking her head. Something told her that the man wasn’t going to take her news very well when she did finally tell him… “Anyway, have a good one, Al.” she added, slipping out of the office.
Brr…Another chilly one. Not that she should be surprised, really. The weather never changed in this place. It was always a balmy, sunny, seventy-seven degrees during the day, down into the sixties at night. One of the older guests swore that it actually hit eighty one day, but Wynter wasn’t sure she believed him…Who would have guessed that she’d actually miss thunder storms, cold or hot fronts, hail even, especially when she’d spent so much time previously wishing for perfect days like the ones she’d had for the past year.
Ah well…Wynter shuffled back to her room, number 671, nose deep in her paper back once more. She was going to have to barter for some new reading material at some point. As much as she loved Dean Koontz, she could only read her tattered copy of ‘Odd Thomas’ so many times before she was able to recite the book from memory…
The young woman paused when she heard the man from earlier once more, pale eyes glancing up. “Oh, you know, those mom and pop places.” she replied, marking her spot in her book. “Believe me, though, you aren’t the only one who thinks this place is creepy as hell. It’s not so bad when the sun’s out, but after sunset? No sir, no thank you.” she added, chuckling.
Best to be polite, seeing as they were going to be seeing a lot of each other from here on in. “Don’t think I caught your name, by the by. I’m Wynter.”
"Very welcome, dear," he says warmly, stirring the veg and potatoes into the stew. "D’you want to make some biscuits to go with the stew or should we just have a bit of the bread?" He’s worried, but he hides it for now, wondering how best he can keep his dear human safe.
"Let’s use the bread. Not sure if I’m in the mood for baking right now." she confessed. "Besides, best to use it up before it goes stale." she added, cleaning her cutting board.
Wyn selected her bread knife and cut several slices of thick, freshly baked bread from the loaf, setting them out on a plate. To be quite honest, she was lucky she didn’t lose any fingers, given the fact that she wasn’t really watching her fingers whilst cutting, her thoughts wandering, fixated on her Weatherly problem.
The naughtier, the better. Bonus points for being off Anon!
As they climbed, Parker tucked the item back into her bag; she didn’t really intend to steal it any more, the guy she was working for hadn’t paid her nearly enough to make this worth it, but it would at least give her something to bargain with. From the looks of it, she didn’t have much chance of getting out of here without that.
"You’re not some…I don’t know, creepy killer or something, are you?" Parker asked, perching hesitantly on a chair. It wouldn’t be the strangest thing to happen that day…
"If I was a creepy killer, you’d be dead already." Wynter explained, dosing out tea into her little mesh infusers. What? It was the truth, plain and simple, no use in sugar coating it now.
"No, I’m more the type that would rather talk things over with a cup of tea. Lemon, sugar, honey?" she asked, getting a tray together. Wynter was aware that the item had been slipped back into the thief’s bag, that was what happened when you had a ghost for a security system, you knew when shit was happening.
[text to: Wynter] When you said you wanted to hunt down Nessie, I didn’t think you meant it like that.
"Wait, wait… She deep fried… butter?" Murphy had no interest in cooking shows to be honest. He was only vaguely aware of who Paula Dean even was - and he wasn’t even entirely certain he was thinking of the right woman. Wasn’t there another one? Been arrested or some shit because of fraud? That wasn’t the important detail of the conversation, and Murphy was doing his best just to have a normal one - even if it was about a topic he knew little about. Still, he was able to smile and laugh with the woman, and that was actually much easier than he thought it would’ve been. Wynter was decidedly very excellent company.
With a small nod of thanks as the waitress had set down their drinks, Murphy immediately reached for his glass to have a sip from it, before glancing back towards Wynter. A small chuff at her assessment, which may or maynot’ve been true. It took a certain kind of person to really get along with his Ma. She was a good woman, of course, but between her brashness and tendency to have that classic Irish temper… she certainly wasn’t everyone’s easy shot of whiskey to handle. Still, not wanting the conversation to waver, Murphy offered her a lopsided sort of smile, “Does she? Yer Aunt have t’e favoring o’ threatenin’ wit’ a fry pan or rollin’ pin too?”
"That was my reaction too, when I heard that. Apparently she mixed it with cream cheese or some shit like that, but the woman still deep fried butter. It takes a special kind of person to deep fry butter, let me tell you." she chuckled, shaking her head. "Some of those chefs, man, I just don’t know what is going on in their heads." the young woman added, shrugging.
"Frying pans and rolling pins? No. Not so much. She’d threaten to take away my books, leave me out in the middle of nowhere so the pixies could take me away…I knew she wasn’t serious, but when you’re a little kid, you believe that shit." she mused. No. She knew Desdemona would never do anything like that to her, not after all she’d gone through to get custody of Wynter, to get the young woman away from her mother’s brother, to get her to the States.
At the mention of her abilities Oberon froze for a fraction of a second before he continued to move through the underbrush. “The dead? Humans, you mean? You can speak to dead humans?” He needed clarification…just to be certain. “That sounds like a gift that could be both very useful and incredibly troublesome,” he murmured, still considering the potential of her words. “Do you always hunt alone? It seems like the kind of job that would be better if there were two.”
The young woman glanced over at him, shrugging. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve only ever dealt with human spirits. I’m not sure if there is a way to contact non-human spirits….” the necromancer mused. “I’ve just never tried it.” she added.
Wynter nodded a bit at his comment. He had no idea…”It really is. There are things that I’ve never wanted to see, things that scare the shit out of me.” she confessed, thinking back to the various spirits she’d seen, the way they’d died. It made her sick to her stomach to remember some of them.
Thankfully, Oberon managed to shake her from that train of thought before she could actually wander any further down that thought path. “Hm? Oh….usually, yeah. Sometimes I’ll go with someone else, lend a hand with their hunt, maybe ask for help with mine. I just find it easier to go out on my own….Don’t have to worry about anyone getting hurt.”
"Ah, don’t hold me to it. ‘s just a suggestion,” he murmured, eliciting a soft groan at the sudden affection showered upon the sensitive skin of his neck. But it was a good suggestion at that, and the look of sheer aghast upon the white witch’s face was priceless enough. ‘Twas a decision bound to be made with consequence, sure enough. The parting from his sister in search of a relationship of all things was bound to end with the hunter sporting a purple bruise somewhere upon his skin.
But the fact of the matter may be that, however distracted or scattered his train of thought may be, who was he to remain idle by while she suffered under the weight of worry that plagued her thoughts with the concept of whether or not he would return home, let alone in one piece? “It, ah, was somethin’ I kept thinking about while I was gone.”
"I think it’s a wonderful suggestion, Hansel." she murmured between kisses, her smile only spreading. The idea of settling down with the man she loved, that she would do anything for…It would be spectacular.
Wynter hummed softly as he confessed that he’d been putting thought into the idea whilst off on his last hunt. If she was to be honest with herself, she’d thought about about it too…She just couldn’t bring herself to say anything about it, mostly because she was afraid of his reaction. If he hadn’t been keen on the idea, if he wasn’t ready, lord only knew what the suggestion would have done to their relationship.
"I love you…" the bookseller murmured. "And I’d love to have a place with you."