Butterflies and Hurricanes




Life settled into an easy routine.

Sam, who had always preferred the behind the scenes aspects of hunting, was happy to loose the reigns to fieldwork, in place of sequestering himself in Bobby’s library to research whatever information the teams or other hunters might need.

Deanna, when she wasn’t beating away angels who wanted to wait on her hand and foot, occasionally headed a small team consisting of Emma and two of her sisters to the most difficult or interesting hunts. The huntress fell into the role of general, easily keeping her troops under control. Mostly she occupied herself by doting on her children and fixing up collector cars.

When not observing Deanna’s hunting style, the three Amazons were put in charge of their own teams of three (two Amazons, one angel or human) with which to hunt. The girls were, unsurprisingly, very good at it.

Atropos, with her god given attention to detail, earned her keep by organizing the various teams of Amazons and angels to various hunts across the globe. The fate could be usually found at Deanna’s elbow, listing various household and hunting related tasks needed to keep their operation running.

Castiel, bless his wings, still spent a large portion of time working in the courts of heaven. However, he had impressed upon his lawyers the need to spend time with his mortal family on earth, and had much more flexible hours.

Jim was a much calmer baby than his sister, and spent the majority of his time sleeping. Occasionally Cas would take his son for a day trip to heaven, where he would snooze against his father’s wings while the lawyers squabbled.

Mary, going on three years old, seemed to take perverse pleasure in causing her babysitters heart attacks. For instance, while her parents were away at work, the toddler thought it a great idea to teleport herself on another whirlwind adventure.

Emma, nearly blind with panic, didn’t know where she had gone for hours. The Amazon was just resigning herself to being sliced and smote, when Mary popped back just outside of the house’s wards, holding the hand of a smarmy Cajun vampire named Benny.

The nephilim refused to let Benny out of her sight, until Deanna returned home.

The huntress took one look at how well her daughter was behaving, took the vampire aside, and threatened him within an inch of his un-life. The duo then spent a long weekend in Louisiana, returning with a trunk full of bloody machetes and matching grins.

At that point, Castiel swooped down to glower at the vampire. What was said between them, neither would ever admit. The two never really saw eye to eye. Deanna just counted it as a win when no blood was spilt when they were in a room together.

Mary was delighted at her new babysitter.

Deanna was investigating a hunt in Michigan, where some people running around dressed as medieval knights were being cursed by some strange tree shaped mark.

There, the huntress discovered her love of role playing, and a fiery redheaded girl named Charlie.

Not only did the computer programmer take the knowledge of the supernatural well, but she also solved the case and almost got to bang a fairy.

Deanna was ready to adopt her on the spot.

When Henry Winchester tumbled through a wardrobe in time, it was to find a crib in the room’s corner, and a silver blade poised at his throat along with a shotgun.

“Who are you?” the short haired woman demanded, one hand on the trigger, the other holding a little girl behind her legs.

“He is your grandfather, Henry Winchester,” responded the dark haired man, who was no less intimidating with a baby cradled in his sword free arm, before Henry could even open his mouth. “It appears he arrived here using some kind of time travel spell.”

The hunter threw her hands up into the air. “I would appreciate it if once, just once, some disaster didn’t rear its head in the middle of our family vacation!”

The closet began glowing, signaling something else coming through.

Henry’s eyes widened. “Quick, we have to run! Abaddon is coming!”


“Abaddon is a knight of hell. Her powers are considerable, but no demon can make it past my warding,” Castiel said.

Deanna rubbed her temples. “Right, zap us back home. We’ll muster the troops and make a call upstairs to deal with this.”

“Wait, what?” But before Henry could ask what was going on, the angel had already swept the family away.

“He’s not supposed to be alive,” Atropos said accusingly over the spine of her day planner, which had replaced the leather book for scheduling purposes.

“We’re trying to make sure he stays that way,” Deanna said gruffly, tugging her grandfather’s arm. “At least for now.”

The fate huffed. “Crowley called. He wants to thank you for releasing his number one competator for the throne of hell.”

The hunter chuckled. “Remind me to send him a gift basket.”

“I’ll have Castiel bless the wine.”

Henry rounded on the angel nostrils flaring. “You’ve put my granddaughter in a family way TWICE, and you haven’t even MARRIED her?”

Castiel looked confused, brows furrowed as the Winchester patriarch loomed into his personal space. “I don’t understand what that reference...”

“It means that you’ve sullied her honor, and don’t even have the gumption to put a ring on her finger and fix it!” He growled. “It’s still living in sin, even if you are an angel!”

The seraph’s frown turned thoughtful. “I don’t understand. Are the rings involved in some kind of purification ritual?”

The elder man’s fury banked slightly, as he reminded himself that he was talking to a genderless creature who until recently didn’t have a concept of taste, let alone human social norms. He crossed his arms and took a preparatory deep breath.

“Right. When a guy and a gal fancy each other and start stepping out, they can get jacketed. Then if they’re still real gone for each other...”

Deanna buried her face in her palms, cheeks flaring red hot against her skin. She peeked between her fingers, but the shining rock twinkling innocently before her was still there.

“Cas,” she choked. “You really don’t have to do this.”

The angel, balanced inhumanly still on his knee, one stiff arm holding a ring still held aloft, shook his head. “Your grandfather assured me that a marriage ritual is necessary for you to regain your honor. He also promised to ‘total me’ if we weren’t ‘circled’ by the end of the week.”

The huntress sighed, pressing the heel of her palms into her eyes. “You didn’t dishonor me, geeze. This isn’t the stone age. I don’t need a ring to know you love me.”

“Yes,” Castiel agreed. “But I would like to give you one, so that every one else knows that I love you as well. You are worthy of admiration, Marisa Deanna Winchester, and I would not have you looked down upon by the ignorant due to my presence.”

If anything, the woman’s face flushed brighter. “....Cas,” she said weakly, “You don’t say stuff like that out loud.”

She took the ring, silver, and jammed in onto her left hand.

Castiel rose, and pressed his cool forehead against his fiancé’s. “I inscribed several wards into the band,” he said lowly, holding her calloused hands between his. “They should be as effective as the ones on your ribs, should you ever become injured and they fail.”

“You are such a nerd,” Deanna mumbled, tilting her head to kiss him.

Bobby, as it turned out, was a certified Catholic priest.

“To make holy water,” he grumbled.

He officiated the ceremony without needing to be asked.

Of course, since Castiel did not exist with his vessel being already married, and Deanna being declared a deceased wanted felon, the wedding was not legal.

That didn’t stop the host of heaven, several bars full of hunters, a few packs of monsters, and an Irish Puca from attending the ceremony.

Deanna wore a white suit, given to her free of rent by a wedding store owner she had saved from a cursed dress. Charlie thought it looked cute, and it even had enough room under the coat to hide a knife.

Castiel was persuaded to change his trench coat and Sunday best for an outfit of sweeping pale blue and gold robes, which looked vaguely Roman in origin. When Sam asked why he chose to wear that, the seraph cited how the clothing best represented how angels of his rank were perceived by humans when they still walked the earth. Also, his siblings insisted.

The bachelorette party was awesome. Deanna couldn’t remember much after the six successive strip clubs, but Charlie had pictures and subsequently enough blackmail to last through the next millennia.

When the hunter asked her brother how Cas’s bachelor party went, Sam pressed a hand to his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“He left my corps in the middle of the bar for five hours when Balthazar insisted we take a pit stop in heaven for some ambrosia. We had to break into the morgue, which is really awkward when I was basically a ghost, and I was still drunk the whole time. Worst out of body experience ever.”

The evening of the wedding was partly cloudy with the taste of thunder in the air. Atropos had put her considerable planning skills to the test to schedule everything perfectly, even going so far as to ward the invitations against unwanted gate-crashers.

So, in the middle of a perfectly circular grove of trees, flattened years before by an angel dragging one soul from perdition, Bobby walked Deanna down the aisle.

Benny waved at her under a parasol from the Winchester half of the audience, which consisted mostly of hunters and monsters trying not to kill each other.

The other half of the clearing overflowed with the hosts of heaven, in various states of spiritual and physical form. All mortal guests tried not to watch that side too closely, as it stretched much further than the realms of possible reality and twisted into a few more dimensions than eyes were meant to comprehend.

Mary, dressed in a fluffy turquoise dress, pulled her little brother down the carpet in a wagon, scattering flower petals as she went.

At the alter, Bobby kissed his adopted daughter on the cheek, before taking his place as the priest.

Behind Deanna, Sam and Charlie stood as her maids of honor, while Balthazar stood behind Cas as his best man.

The hunter could not remember a word of the ceremony, right up until Bobby finally slammed the bible shut.

“Well, kiss, ya idjits.”

Deanna smothered her laugh against her husband’s mouth. She could feel him smiling too.

They went on a world tour for their honeymoon.

Of course, it was slightly more involved than a normal tour, what with the supernatural powers of heaven at their disposal.

They took a boat under the Eiffel Tower in 1910 when the Seine River flooded its banks, and slew some kind of sea serpent. They also found a little cafe, and watched a giant flea monster sing on stage with a woman dressed as an angel.

Next they flew to the Antarctic for extreme skiing, before skipping off to the moons of Jupiter to make snowmen.

While watching a gladiator fight against sharks in the colosseum of ancient Rome, a red headed woman wearing sensible shoes and a leather jacket sat beside the couple. The stranger offered them a striped bag.


Deanna blinked. The woman smiled. The hunter smiled back and took a handful of salty confections. “Sure!”

“I’m Amy Pond,” the scarlet haired woman said. “And that’s Rory.” She indicated the centurion in the ring battling on the artificial seas.

“I’m Deanna, and this is my husband Cas.” The hunter still got a thrill whenever she said that.

Amy considered the couple. “So, what brings two obviously twenty-first century people here?”


“Through time and space?”

Deanna raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

Amy shrugged, corners of her mouth twitching. “Can’t say I haven’t thought of it myself.”

Below, Rory punched out a shark.

“He’s got nice form,” Deanna complimented.

“I have better sword work,” Castiel grumbled at her side.

The hunter kidded him on the cheek. “And don’t I know it.”

Amy laughed. “We were thinking about catching lunch in Florence in a few thousand years. Why don’t you join us?”

Deanna grinned. “Sure, why not?”

So, after Rory fought his way through the arena gambit, Amy led the supernatural couple out of the colosseum to what appeared to be a bright blue telephone box.

“This is your time machine?” the hunter asked. Castiel laid a hand on the booth, brows furrowed in contemplative awe.

“Well, not ours per say. More like we’re hitching a ride from a friend.” Amy pushed open the door.

“Huh, it’s bigger on the inside.” Deanna nodded appreciatively.

“Oh, hello! Who’s this?” An odd man in a bow tie appeared from behind the console, hair disheveled and clutching a spatula and a metallic green blinking device, vaguely shaped like a screwdriver.

“You are the Doctor,” Castiel rumbled.

“Why yes I am! Have we met?”

“My garrison was once charged with watching your movements on earth.”

“Really? How did that work out for you?” The Doctor grinned, ducking back down with his tools.

The soldier shrugged. “As well as can be expected.”

“So is Cas a time traveler?” Amy stage whispered to Deanna.

“No, he’s an angel.”

An almighty smash resounded through the phone booth, as the Doctor dropped his spatula. “What? Angel? Where?” Sonic screwdriver flashed green as it swept around the room.

Deanna pointed at Castiel. “Uh, right here?”

The Doctor scrutinized the trench coated figure. “No, he’s a thought form of energy powering the neurons of an empty body. How are you doing that, by the way?”

Blue eyes narrowed. “I am a wavelength of celestial intent, and this is a vessel.”


After that memorable introduction, the couples traveled to Florence to eat olives while watching Michelangelo drip paint into his eyes. There was also some kind of space monster eating people’s memories. However, between the seraph, Roman legionnaire, police officer, and hunter, the bad guy didn’t stand much of a chance.

“Look me up if you’re ever anywhere near 2012,” Deanna said, bumping shoulders with Amy. “We’ll clean out a vampire nest. It will be awesome!”

The ginger grinned. “Sounds like a plan!”

Rory and Castiel exchanged a long suffering glance.

Deanna fixed Krissy Chambers with a full powered disappointed parent stare. “Look, you munchkins call us if you ever get into trouble. We’ve got a system down here, with angels and Amazons on call for backup.”

She held out a card.

Krissy raised an eyebrow. “You have business cards?”

The hunter rolled her eyes. “Atropos printed them up.”

“Uh hu.” The younger woman took the card. “Looks legit.”

Deanna grinned. “That’s because we are. We’re like the Men In Black, but better.”


“Yeah. We’ve got teams of hunters, teams of researchers, a batcave, and a supernatural help line.”

The teen whistled. “Break out the decoder rings, and I might just have to sign up.”

Metatron leaned across the cafe table. “The spell requires the heart of a Nephilim-”

Unfortunately, the scribe of god didn’t get the chance to speak further, as Castiel rammed his sword through the angel’s throat.

He quickly snapped the corps away before the waitress returned with the bill for his waffles.

Said waitress breathed out a sigh of relief when the angelic diner left, unaware of the metaphorical bullet and literal knife she had just dodged.

Meanwhile, Castiel put the bunker on lockdown, and refused to give Deanna a straight answer as he cuddled his family in the master bedroom.

The woman sighed, resigning herself to a day of over protective grooming and hugs as she flicked on the TV. It was about time for another movie marathon anyway.



“Abaddon has killed one of our teams.”

Deanna’s face turned stony. “Who?”

Atropos glanced at her notes. “Squirrel Squad, consisting of Sarah, Emily, and Ambriel.”

The hunter closed her eyes, breathing carefully. “What happened?”

“They discovered the one of the demon’s factories which was stealing and corrupting human souls. They never checked back in, although Ambriel’s scream could be heard on angel radio.”

“Has anyone told the others yet?”

Atropos shook her head. “It wasn’t relevant.”

“Of course it’s relevant!” Deanna snapped, eyes burning. “I don’t care how they ran things in heaven, but down here, we’re family! And if you can’t see that, you’ve got no place in it!”

The fate bowed her head, chastised. “The other angels will already know. Should I tell the girls?”

“No, I’ll do it,” the taller woman snapped. “You make sure that all our teams in the field know to steer clear of Abaddon. I don’t want this happening again.”

“Yes ma’am.” Atropos closed her book and vanished.

Deanna, meanwhile, gathered up the four remaining Amazons, and whatever angels she knew were friendly with those who had died.

“If any of you, any of you, ever need to talk, my door’s always open.” She met the eye of each crying girl and stoic celestial being, radiating empathetic comfort.

Later Sarah and Emily’s shared room was cleared of furniture, save for two swords hanging on the walls and a plethora of pictures taped beside them. A photograph of Ambriel’s vessel soon joined the small shrine, as well as a crayon drawn picture of the sun.

The angels would sometimes sit in the room, contemplating how their sibling’s passing effected the humans so. Soon tiny tokens, like feathers, dried flowers, and seemingly benign pieces of litter made their way into the room.

When asked, Remiel smiled softly, rubbing the striped river stone between his fingers. “It reminds me of one of my fallen siblings. We do not mourn the same way as mortals, but there is some attraction to your rituals.”

Atropos looked at her planner. “The king of hell called again. He wants to discuss a possible alliance for dealing with Abaddon.”

Deanna groaned. “Do I have to?”

The fate tilted her head. “The remaining knight of hell has been causing much destruction and damage. Our teams have been overrun trying to handle it. He could have useful information and resources.”

“Enemy of my enemy,” she sighed. “Awesome.”

The principality of America smiled like a viper. “I’m here representing the parties of Marissa Winchester and the angel Castiel.” She pulled out a scroll of paper. “Now, we would like to review section twelve of the contract before we sign it.”

Crowley grimaced.

Emma had injured her shoulder hunting a rugarou, and was stuck manning the phones in an empty bunker for the week it took to heal.

Naturally, she wasn’t going to suffer alone.

“Hey Charlie, guess whose got the bunker to themselves for three days, while everyone else is out on a hunt? What to have a slumber party?”

“Boy, do I!”

An hours later, the two young women giggled together over the internal wires of an ancient computer system, located in the Men of Letter’s basement.

“So, do you guys have an actually have a name for your secret organization?” Charlie asked, elbow deep in the ancient computer.

Emma shrugged. “We’ve been calling ourselves the Associates of Letters. You know, since most of us are women, and the Men of Letters just doesn’t really fit.”

“That is so cool. Do you have secret decoder rings or something?”

The Amazon chuckled. “No, but I’ve got extra popcorn. Be back in a minute.” Emma stood, tripped over a stray wire, and fell hard into a shelf.

“Oh my gosh! Are you ok?” Charlie shot to her feet.

“I’m fine,” she waved off.

Neither girl noticed the dark green bottle tip over, spilling a noxious liquid.

What followed was a wild chase through the bunker, reminiscent of the Blair Witch Project. Luckily, Charlie’s new totally not platonic crush Dorothy, knew a few tricks to help keep the trio alive.

Emma only really began to fear for her life when the bunker door opened unexpectedly.

“Deanna!” the young woman yelled. “You’re home early!”

The hunter raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, it turned out to be an easy haunting. I brought you some get well pie.” Her eyes narrowed at the flustered expressions on her charge’s face. “Emma, what’s going on?”

“We accidentally released the Wicked Witch from a glass bottle,” Charlie panted, running into the room with Dorothy at her heels.

Deanna pinched the bridge of her nose. “The Wicked Witch of the West is loose in my house, and no one thought to call me?”

Emma shuffled her feet. “Charlie and I were going to clean it up before you got home.”

“Right.” Deanna sighed. “You’re just lucky Cas took the kids to work with him today, otherwise you would be in so much more trouble.”

“We’re really sorry!”

The huntress waved her off. “Atropos, call up the garrison’s radio, let everyone not on a critical hunt know about the situation and to get back here. I need at least four angels.”

The fate fluttered into existence at Deanna’s side. “I would recommend Remiel and Raziel. They’ve got the best experience with beings of the fairy realms.”

“Right, let’s go save Oz.”

“This is The Colonel, he’s going to be staying with us from now on.”

“Puppy!” Mary squealed, hugging the German shepherd around the neck.

A smile tugged the corners of Deanna’s mouth. “Now, we gotta take special care of him. He’s very good dog; helped me solve a case and beat the monsters and everything.”

One morning, Deanna got a call from an old friend.

She stared contemplatively at the phone for a few minutes, before telling Atropos to clear her schedule for a week, grabbing her brother, and hopping in the Impala.

“Simple hunt, just you and me.” Sam chuckled, leaning against the passenger door. “We haven’t done this in a while.”


They pulled up in front of a worn building with faded writing on the sign.

Deanna laughed. “Man this place hasn’t changed.”

“Wait, so this is where you were for these months that you disappeared? But you’re a girl.”

Deanna nodded, eyes fixed on the boys home. “It’s not like anyone knew that when I was growing up.”

A light of understanding bloomed in Sam’s eyes. “Oh right! Why did you dress like a boy back then, anyway?”

She shrugged, opening the Impala door. “It’s not important.”

The hunters approached the shabby house and knocked on the door. It was opened by a late middle aged man with brown hair and a mustache. He blinked at the strangers at his door.

Deanna grinned. “Hey Sonny!”

“Dean!” The man’s face lit up as he embraced the woman in a hug.

“Good to see you too man!”

“Look at you!” Sonny said pulling back. “A respectable member of society, and is that a ring?”

Deanna showed off the silver band around her finger. “Yep! The kids are at work with their daddy.”

“You should have invited me to the wedding!”

“Ah, well,” the hunter rubbed the back of her head. “Cas’s family can be a bit much for normal people to handle. Anyway, you said you had a case here?”

“There has been a high demon activity concentrated around this area, but not in it.” Atropos said. “Also, a local hunter was killed, and the contents of her store safe raided. We’ve also found some evidence of a specialized tracking spell being used.”

Deanna nodded. “Right, have the teams handle fallout in the civilian areas. Can we send an angel squad to check out the epicenter?”

“No, it’s warded.”

“Guess I’ll just have to do it the old fashioned way.”

The huntress was just pulling up in front of a white picket fence house, when she heard a shuffle in the Impala’s back seat. She signed and turned off the car.

“Baby girl, you know you’re not supposed to follow mommy when she goes to work,” Deanna chastised. “No you fly home right this minute, young lady.”

Mary pulled herself out rom her hiding space in the footwell, and pouted in the back seat of the Impala. “No.”

The hunter’s eyes narrowed. “Mary!”

“No!” the toddler screamed again. She pulled open the Impala’s door and leapt out of the car, rushing towards the house.

“Mary!” Deanna yelled again, terror creeping into the edges of her voice. She fumbled out of her seatbelt, but the bundle of black curls had already rounded the corner. “Baby girl, you are in so much trouble,” the huntress swore, creeping towards the house.

A figure in a bee suit intercepted her.

“Why are you here?” it said, voice musical and menacing.

“My daughter just ran into your house,” the mother said. “An I would really appreciate it if I could get her before something shatters.”

The figure took off the bee net hat, revealing a startlingly blue eyed man with long grey hair. “I didn’t think you would bring your daughter into such a dangerous place as this, Mrs. Winchester.”

Deanna was immediately on guard, hand clenching around the gun on her belt. “Who are you?”

The man began walking towards the house. “My name is Cain.”

“Cain?” the hunter said, following cautiously.

“Yes.” The duo crossed into the house. Deanna breathed out a sign of relief when she saw Mary thoroughly examining the knick-nacks and furniture in the living room. “Would you like some tea before we get down to business?”

The woman started. “Sure.”

Cain nodded and went to the kitchen.

Deanna sat carefully on the patterned couch, eyeing her daughter’s slow approach to the beehive. “The angels said that my family is descended from Cain and Able,” she said, still watching Mary.

The older man returned carrying a tray. He placed it on the coffee table and sat across from her. “Really.”

Her eyes ticked to the side. “That’s what they told me, anyway. But I have a healthy distrust of celestial wavelengths of intent.”

Cain leaned back against the cushions, eyes closed as he breathed. “After what occurred between my brother and myself, I did not have the right to know what happened to my nieces and daughters.” His blue gaze opened to rest half ponderously on her. “Heaven was invested in my bloodline, so they would have the most accurate records.”

“Ma!” Mary squealed, fingers and face pressed against the glass. “Look! Daddy’s bugs!” She then broke down into a garbled mess of excited Enochian, still gesticulating fervently.

“They’re called bees in English, baby girl,” Deanna hummed, face lighting as she turned to her daughter. “They go buzz.”

“Bees, buzz buzz!” Mary echoed, green eyes still captivated. She skipped to her mothers side, and clambered onto Deanna’s knees. “Ma, can we keep these bees? I like honey.”

The woman’s gaze slid upwards to Cain, who had been watching the exchange with a curious look pulling the corners of his eyes. “They’re not ours, baby girl. We would have to ask Mr. Cain.”

Mary turned around to face the opposite couch, spirit retreating under a shell of sudden shyness. She clutched at her mother’s pants, staring up with widening eyes. Her lips turned down, before she hurled herself at her mother, burying her face in Deanna’s shoulder.

“His face is scary,” the girl wept.

Deanna glanced at Cain, a befuddled frown spreading across her face, even as she rubbed soothing circles across her daughter’s back.

“She is the angel’s child,” the demon said softly.

“She is my child,” the hunter growled in return.

Cain tilted his head. “That means she can see me past the veil.”

“Oh. OH.” Deanna’s grip tightened in realization. Her attention focused on the shaking figure in her arms. “Sh, sh, it’s all right.”

“He’s all covered in red,” the nephilim whispered. “And his eyes can’t cry any more, because of the scars they made down his cheeks.”

“I assume I’m the first demon she’s encountered,” Cain said gently, watching the exchange.

Deanna nodded over the bundle in her arms. “Sh, sh, baby girl. Do you want me to call Daddy, so he can explain all this to you? I’m afraid Mommy’s a bit out of her depth...”

“Your angel won’t be able to find you here. My house is warded.”

Green eyes ticked to meet pale blue. “Awesome,” she sighed, gathering her daughter into her arms as she stood. “Well, thank you for the tea. I have to get this little one home.”

The demon blinked. “That’s it? I assumed you were here about Abaddon.”

“We were just trying to find out why your house seemed to be a blank spot for demonic activity. There’s been signs all around, except here, but I guess that’s due to your warding. You might want to look out incase she’s looking for you.”

At that moment, a loud shout rang through the house.

“Speak of the devil,” Cain commented, blandly stirring his tea.

Deanna swore and looked out the window at the two trucks full of black eyed beings crowding the driveway.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” she chanted grip becoming white around her daughter’s shivering form. She checked her phone with her free hand and swore again. “Of course there’s no signal.”

Cain watched as the mother rocked her child, trying to calm the sympathetic whimpers. “Why not just fight them?” he asked. “That knife can certainly handle an average demon, and I’ve heard rumors of your skill.”

“Not anywhere near my baby,” she snarled. “Those demon bastards aren’t even allowed to look at a single hair on her head!”

The father of murder raised an eyebrow.

Deanna huffed. “You’re ok. You gave me tea, and Mary likes your house.”

A complicated litany of emotions rolled across Cain’s face, betraying the storm thundering inside his tattered soul. Setting down his teacup, he held out a hand.

“I can get you two out, and your car.”

Green eyes shone with gratitude. “Really? What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he shook his head. “Your company has been...diverting.”

Deanna took his calloused hand, and felt a warm pressure of translocating air as she and her daughter were moved several miles down the road from where they started.

The hunter set the little girl down as she checked over the Impala.

Cain felt a tug on his sleeve and looked down. Mary Winchester looked up at him, green eyes peaking out behind her wild black hair. She searched the demon’s face with an intensity bordering on angelic. “I’m sorry I called you scary.”

“That’s all right.” A small smile tickled the corner of his mouth. “I do look scary don’t I?”

“Yeah.” The tiny girl nodded emphatically, wild hair thrown into even more disarray. “Can I come back and look at your bees?”

The demon made a move as if to smooth the strands of hair from the little girl’s face, but stuffed his hands in his coat pockets instead. “If you have your mother’s permission.”

“ ‘Kay,” she said, seriously, before tucking herself into the back seat of the car.

Deanna perused the map. “So we know Abaddon is stationed here with her main supporters. If we set up a perimeter ward, we can send in a strike team to finish her off.”

“The scouting teams believe that she’s warded the building against angels and other forms of detection.”

“Do we know where?”


“Right, then have Gadreel make up a crash course in ward breaking to show the girls. Do we have any other hunters we can call for this?”

Atropos checked her book. “Garth might be willing to leave his pack for a few days to help, but his wife is expecting, so we can’t be sure. Jody Mills is out; she’s busy with the adoption papers for the vampire girl. Krissy and her team are on reserve still, then there are the freelance hunters we’ve contacted throughout the country.”

“Call them up and ask if they want a piece of this.”

While one angel was unequipped to kill a knight of hell, it turned out a garrison stabbing in unison had a much better chance. After the mortal strike team disabled the base’s warding, Cas, leading the heavenly army, swooped in to finish the job.

Unfortunately, Crowley got away.

Deanna still chalked the operation up as a win.

“Amazons are an interesting case; their powers come through the worship of their goddess. Without the proper rituals performed, their progeny will revert to being humans. There’s and interesting case study of the children of Hypolita and her human consort-”

“So our kids will be human?” interrupted Emma.

Henry nodded enthusiastically. “Should you still be capable of having them, then most definitely.”

“Should?” The girl paled.

The man of letters, thoroughly seeped in research mode, didn’t notice his audience’s distress. “An Amazon’s reproductive system is heavily tied in ritual. What happens when those rituals are no longer performed hasn’t been studied very thoroughly in recent years.” He looked up from the scroll, and blinked. “Are you all right?”

Emma’s face was a twisted mask of gut wrenching sorrow. “Dee!” She cried, running away before Henry could try to comfort her.

Later, four young woman with tear stained eyes cuddled on the large memory foam mattress in their den-mother’s room.

Deanna, sitting in the middle of the weeping puddle, carted her fingers through her girls’s hair, humming Metallica under her breath.




“I found him in a storm drain,” Emma said, holding the skinny boy close to her side. “Can I keep him?”

Deanna sighed, and sent Atropos to fetch the shivering kid a blanket. When the child was thoroughly cocooned in flannel and eating a bowel of soup, the hunter took her adopted daughter aside.

“Emma, this isn’t a good life for a little kid.”

“Why? I grew up fine, and Mary and Jim are the happiest kids I’ve ever seen.”

“You guys are special circumstances,” the hunter tried to argue.

“Yeah, well so’s Ben!”

Deanna frowned. “Just because you found him after a hunt doesn’t mean that-”

“He said he was some kind of science experiment for the military before he escaped a few years ago.” The Amazon’s eyes flashed with red highlights. “They kept him in a box his whole life, just because they want some perfect little soldiers.”

“Emma, calm down,” Deanna laid a hand on the woman’s shoulder, her stomach twisting into furious knots at the tale. “I know this is running close to the heart for you, but you need to stay calm, for Ben.”

The young woman took a few steadying breaths. After a moment, her eyes returned to a more human appearance.

“Good girl.” Deanna patted her shoulder. “Now, it’s been a long night for everyone. I’ll set up a cot in your room for Ben, and we can talk more in the morning. All right?”

Emma nodded, giving the hunter a quick hug before she left the room.

“Is she the Blue Lady?” the child whispered, wide green eyes following the hunter’s retreating back.

“Who?” Emma said, gathering him into her arms.

“The Blue Lady. She helps you and makes sure you don’t get sent to the basement with the ‘nomalies.”

The Amazon bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, grip tightening around the little body. “I suppose she’s like the Blue Lady,” she said carefully. “Deanna saved me when I was about your size. It’s what she does; killing things helping people.” She chuckled. “The family business.”

“Hey, where’s Emma?” Sam said, looking around the bunker, which was significantly less crowded than usual.

Deanna shrugged. “She took the other Amazons to break up an immoral military organization creating child soldiers.”

“Oh right.” He looked at his sister oddly. “And you didn’t want a part of that at all?”

She looked up from the table, unimpressed. “I trust Emma to handle it. She’s a big girl now.”

“Uh hu. And the angels are gone because...?”

“They needed to stretch their wings before they got flabby, so I sent them to Wyoming.”

“Where Emma and the girls are staging their operation.”

The hunter threw a pen at him. “Shut up bitch.”

“This place is more secure than the bunker,” Amy reported, eyes monster red to better see in the dark. The Amazons couldn’t risk turning on any lights during their stakeout of the Manticore facility, lest their prey catch onto their surveillance. “The only weak point we could find was the back field, and that’s only when they let the kids out to train. We wouldn’t be able to save more than a squad.”

“That’s no good, we need to be able to get them all in one go,” Carol said, frowning. “Kayleigh broke onto their server and found protocols to blow the barracks if any of the children escape, or if the facility is compromised. That corroborates with what we learned interviewing Ben.”

Their leader looked green. “That’s sick.”

The monsters exchanged a look. “Emma, I think we’re in over our heads,” Kayleigh, ever the voice of reason, said. “Maybe we should call Deanna.”



“I said no,” Emma growled, instincts itching under her skin. “These children are ours to save. We are warriors, and if we dare to call ourselves mothers by the end of this, we have to take full responsibility all the way. Deanna has enough on her plate managing the rest of the Letters. This is our trial to overcome, to prove that we have what it takes to be what she was to us.”

“Well we cant storm this fortress with just the four of us!”

“Perhaps we may be of assistance?” a new voice chimed in.

As one the four Amazons spun, claws out, and eyes flashing red.

An angel, wearing a mousy brunette in overalls waved back at them.

“Raziel, what are you doing here?” Emma said, as she and her sisters relaxed at the familiar face.

The woman smiled. “Domina sent us in case you required help.”

“Don’t let Deanna hear you call her that,” Carol sniggered.

Raziel ignored the comment. “My garrison is at your disposal for the duration of this mission,” she said to Emma.

The blonde refrained from expressing the relief flooding through her breast. “Awesome. Now, we’ve got the blueprints of the building, but we don’t know how many kids they’ve got stashed in there....”


Mary stared at the intruder in her favorite library chair with all the unsettling weight a daughter of the angel of Thursday would muster.

He stared back, unnerved.

“I’m part angel,” she shot out.

“I’m part cat,” he replied in kind.

“I got wings and six pairs of eyes.”

“I got... the ability to run really fast.”

Mary smiled. “I like you. We should be friends!”

He tilted his head in confusion. “What?”

The nephilim tugged insistently at the older boy’s hand. “Come on. Your Emma’s baby now, so that makes us cousins.”

“I was going through the old case notes, and we might have actually tangled with Manticore before.”


Kayleigh nodded. “Around 2009 Garth had a run in with what he thought was a group of ghouls, but turned out to be some eugenic obsessed terrorists. He stopped them from setting off a bomb, and left a tip to the police.”

“We sure these are the same guys?” Emma said.

Her sister nodded. “They killed a little kid. From the description, sounds like one of Ben’s friends.”

The amazon’s eyes flashed red. “Those monsters!”

“Excuse me? Ma’am?”

Deanna looked up from her table of maps and smiled at the small pre-teen standing beside her. “Yeah kid?”

Ben carefully didn’t meet her eyes, lips pressed nervously together. “Where’s Miss Emma?”

“Your Momma’s out rescuing the rest of your brothers and sisters.”

“Who?” Ben said.

Deanna ran a hand over his stubbly head, where blonde hair was growing in. “Emma. She takes care of you, and Cas knows she loves you. That makes her your mother.”

“Leader, we’ve got a problem,” Carol said.

Emma looked up from the facility blueprints, marked up with sticky notes. “What?”

“Kayleigh found a file on the conditioning they put the kids through. Even if we rescue them, they won’t want to come with us. They’re programmed to want to go back to Manticore, and we don’t look military enough to order them around. It would be like if a man tried to take us away from our den-mother when we were still growing.”

The blonde Amazon swore.

“Abner!” Emma called. Immediately a kindly faced man with dark hair fluttered to her side, holding a clipboard and pen. “Who do we have, who is discreet, that I can send to do a full psych profile on the people in there?”

The angel communicated telepathically with his siblings. “Chamuel is the most accomplished in dream walking.”

“Really?” The young commander’s mind whirled with the new possibilities this presented. “Set up a meeting with her in the morning. I need to discuss whether she would be willing to communicate to the children what will happen. If they are expecting the raid and know who we are, they might be more willing to come with us.”

Abner made a note. “Right away.”

Sam frowned at the children. “You know, Ben looks an awful lot like Mary. They could be siblings.”

Deanna shrugged. “It’s probably coincidence.”

Her brother looked over at the map spread out on the table. “What are you doing anyway? Is that a case?”

“Road trip,” she said, tracing a backroad between the Grand Canyon and the everglade.

“To Orlando?” His voice wobbled with laughter.

“Cas has been watching too much daytime TV again, and wants to take the family on vacation,” Deanna grinned fondly. “Dweeb somehow got us tickets for Disneyworld, then Charlie’s taking us to Comi-con. She called up one of her cos-player friends, so the babies have both got these adorable little wing outfits. She even made a hat with Cas’s four heads!”

Sam carefully covered his twitching mouth. “And you?”

“Sexy nurse, duh.”

The angel tilted her head. “Some of the beings in there would make suitable vessels. I may be able to contact some of my non-corporeal siblings who wish to spend time on earth.”

Emma’s lips pressed together. “Those kids in there won’t have a concept of saying no when someone gives them an order. That’s not consent.”

“We would gain valuable eyes inside the facility, as well as assuring the children that the plan is real, and not simply a figment of their minds.”

The young woman clenched her fist in conflict, but nodded resolutely. “Fine. Do it.”

Remiel was walking through the bunker. Normally the angel would simply fly to his next location, however he had just spent a few moments in the Memorial (as the bunker’s inhabitants had begun to call the growing shrine of pictures to the fallen) and wished for a few moments of human contemplation.

His steps stopped when he heard violent thumps and whimpers just down the hall. Rounding the corner, the angel say the bunker’s newest inhabitant seizing violently, his head banging against the plaster wall.

Remiel quickly reached for the boy, using his grace to calm his body’s rebellion and temporarily fix the chemical imbalance causing his distress.

“Are you well?” he asked, when Ben’s shivers stopped.

“Please don’t tell anyone I have the shakes,” the boy wept. “They’ll find out I’m defective and send me away.”

The angel frowned in confusion. “As I understand it, it is normal for humans to suffer from health problems. Deanna would not allow you to be cast away for such a reason.”

“But I’m not normal,” Ben said, breath coming fast. “I’m a transgenic. I’m not a person, I’m a soldier. Persons don’t have barcodes on the back of their necks!”

Remiel’s brows furrowed. “What does a body ornamentation have to do with whether you are a person?”

“It means I’m property.” The boy’s voice was muffled by his hands pressed against his face.

The angel tilted his head thoughtfully. Like a viper, his hand shout out to cover the back of child’s neck. Ben didn’t have enough time to do more than look up with tear stained eyes, before the hand was gone.

Remiel contemplated his palm, before tilting it to show the boy. Branded into the skin was the trangenic’s serial number and bars. Ben’s hands shot to the back of his neck, fingers searching.

“I took it from you. So now you’re as much of a person as your soul says you are. You are free now too.” He closed his hand into a fist, and when he opened it, the brand was gone in a flash of heavenly grace.

Fresh tears spilt down the child’s face. “It’s gone?”

The angel nodded.

Ben threw himself at the celestial being’s waist, squeezing him so tightly that a human’s bones would have broken.

“Thank you, sir.” The boy’s voice shook.

Remiel slowly wrapped his limbs around the tiny clinging body. The hungry look which occasionally crossed his features seemed to now be fulfilled.

“I was a soldier too, you know,” he said softly.

Ben pulled back and wiped his cheeks, trying to regain his composure.

“Really sir?”

“Yes. We were discouraged from expressing aspects of humanity by our superiors. I did not know how to exist in any other manner, until Deanna found me.”

“The Blue Lady,” Ben whispered reverently.

The angel tilted his head. “She dislikes titles, though she holds many. Righteous Man, Mater, General, Domina- she only allows us to call her Deanna, though by my people’s ways that is not all there is to her name.”

“She helps everyone, doesn’t she.”

“Of course, that is her way. ‘Saving people, hunting monsters. The family business.’ ”

“She helped me when I was in Manticore,” the transgenic mumbled into the angel’s shoulder. “When Ava got shot, and they told us not to cry.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Ben hiccuping, and Remiel rubbing circles on his back, in a motion he had seen other humans do to soothe children.

“Would you like to see where we remember those who have left us?” the angel asked.

A tiny head nodded, still pressed against his vessel’s collarbone.

Remiel led the small boy to the memorial, which had grown exponentially since its initial creation weeks ago. Newspaper clippings of victims of supernatural attacks, those too late to be saved on a case, had plastered one corner by the door, but the angel took his companion to the most colorful collection.

“Mary drew this sun for my brother Ambriel. She perceived his true form to be that of plasma, similar to that contained within Sol.” Remiel pointed to a river stone, attached to the wall by string run through a nail. “My sibling Dumah never took a vessel, but they held fondness for the weathering patterns of earth. This stone reminds me of our time together.”

“Zack liked to hide under rocks,” Ben said, clutching the angel’s hand as he stared at the memorial. “And Max had dark brown hair, like wood.”

“Would you like to put something up for them?”

The little boy hunched down in his shoulders. “What would I put, sir?”

“Anything, so long as it has meaning.”

Ben bit his lip. The fingers not wrapped around Remiel’s arm crept to the back of his head. The taller being smiled in understanding.

Laying his hand against the wall, a flash of grace ignited against the paint. When the angel drew his hand away, a familiar serial number and coded bar was left behind.

Fresh tears ran down the little boy’s cheeks.

Remiel let the child bask in the freedom to expression emotions, till his young soul was worn out. He then led him to the bunker’s kitchen, and got him a drink.

“I have been experimenting with the varied beverages humans refer to as tea,” the angel said at the child’s questioning stare. “I have been informed of the biological calming properties of some, which can be advantageous in times of psychological stress.”

The boy sniffed the mug curiously, pink tongue peaking between his lips to test the warm liquid.

Remiel sat across from him, savoring the dance of molecules on his vessels tongue as he drank.

“S’good,” Ben purred, nose practically inside the cup.

“I’m rather fond of catnip too.” The angel smiled.

The transgenic known only to himself as Mole had led a horrible existence. Of course, compared to some of his siblings, he was pretty lucky. However, in a place where ‘lucky’ meant seeing tomorrow, without seeing your insides on a slab, his life was pretty horrible.

He supposed it was only natural that his mind finally broke under all the stress.

“You are not mad,” the voice in his head insisted, in a soft tone of voice the transgenic had never encountered. It sent pleasant shivers down his scales and calmed his heartbeat, making him want to listen forever.

“You are not mad,” the voice insisted again. “You are chosen.”

“For what?” Mole mumbled tiredly.

“To help save your siblings from this place.”

That made the transgenic sit up. “What do I have to do?”

“Say yes.”

The Mole agreed without another conscious thought. The next thing he knew, warm desert breezes wrapped around him, rocking his mind into a soothing slumber.

“Be at peace,” the voice whispered, “And I shall sing thee to thy rest.”

The lizard-man’s eyes opened, flaring holy blue in their depths.

“I have gained the trust of the transgenics in the location known as the basement,” Sariel said, lizard eyes blinking in the dim starlight. “Those who are capable will follow me when the time comes. Those whose minds or bodies were beyond repair I have escorted to heaven.”

Emma closed her eyes for a momentary prayer to the fallen victims of this horrible facility. She looked back up at the angel’s scaly face. “You did the right thing. They suffered enough in that abhorrent place.”

The angel inclined his head. “Several of my siblings have also taken vessels similar in characteristics to my own. Five of the guards and a janitor have also consented. We are ready to assist however we can.”

“Awesome.” The Amazon took a breath, shoulders set in the taught line of leadership. “Have three of your team report to Carol. She’s working with Raziel on planting explosives for the facility’s demolition. Those with more human appearances should go to Amy, who’s organizing the evacuation plan.”

Sariel nodded, and vanished in a flutter of wings.

“They put cat bits into my DNA,” Ben mumbled into his milk. “The X5’s were the first to look so normal.”

Remiel tilted his head. “Humans put much stock into physical appearances. I don’t understand it.”

“That’s because you look so normal too!” the boy blurted. His face paled the instant the sound waves left his lips.

The angel frowned. “This isn’t my true form,” he said patting his chest. “This is a vessel. My real form would burn out a human’s eyes, or at the very least drive them to madness.”

“What? Why?” Ben’s eyes were wide. “What do you look like?”

Remiel hummed, drawing out the child’s interest in a teasing interaction he had seen between Deanna and her children. “The closest approximation I can guess that a human can perceive would be...” He tapped a thumb to his lips.

“Yeah?” The boy leaned forwards expectantly.

“Two of my heads are wolves, neither of which exist on earth any more. Structurally my wings are more like a bat’s, though the feathers are somewhere between octarine and what the inside of a daffodil sounds like. I have many more limbs than you would expect, but fewer than what you’re thinking, and my configuration does not lend itself well to bipedalism.”

The milk sat completely forgotten in Ben’s hand. “Really sir?”

The angel nodded, nudging the glass closer to his charge. “Yes.”

“I am capable of driving an automobile,” Gadreel assured cooly.

“Yeah, well these dozen buses are going to be full of confused para-military pre-teens.” Emma kneaded her forehead with a fist. “Abner, has Samandriel found a place to house the kids yet? We can’t take them back to the bunker all at once.”

The angel consulted his notepad. “He secured an abandoned property called Camp Chippewa in Montana. The cabins have been repaired, and he has acquired sustenance and clothing to accommodate the evacuees.”

“Right,” the Amazon took a deep breath. “Operation Echidna will commence at midnight.”

The operation went off without a major hitch.

The transgenics, guided by weeks of dreaming and promises of structure without the inhuman treatment of Manticore, discreetly gathered in their bunkers, while the assorted angels flew them out in units to waiting buses just outside of the facility.

Some had to be carefully retrieved from the medical and psych wings. Those poor souls were immediately taken to the surprisingly well equipped field hospital at Camp Chippewa.

When the last innocent was loaded up and driving away, Emma grinned at her sisters. She waved a detonator box invitingly in her hand. “Who wants to do the honors?”

Weeks later, after something of a routine was established for the rescued transgenics to feel comfortable with a marginal amount of autonomy, Emma returned to he bunker to fetch her son.

After being smothered in hugs by her adoptive mother and uncle, she found Ben in the kitchen, drinking what smelt like tea with an angel wearing a young brown haired man.

When he saw her, the little soldier jumped to his feet and saluted smartly. The Amazon felt a warm spark flood her heart, and enveloped him in a hug.

“Hey there kitten, sorry I was gone so long. Who’s your friend?”

“His name is Remiel. He’s been looking after me,” Ben said, snuggling into her shoulder.

Emma considered the angel. “Has he.”

“Ben is an exceptional child,” Remiel said, muscles on his back stretching.

The Amazon hummed thoughtfully, cheek pressed against her son’s fuzzy head.

“Ben, this is your twin,” Emma said gently, laying a hand on the sleeping boy’s forehead. Immediately his terrors calmed. “He was in cognitive reconditioning when we found him, and can’t wake up yet.”

The transgenic looked apprehensively at the mirror of his own face. “Ma’am,” he said, voice forcibly steady. “Are you going to keep him instead of me?”

Emma looked at him askant. “Of course not! Oh, kitten, come here.” She reached over to wrap her son in her arms. “Neither of you will replace the other! I fell in love with the both of you the minute I found you. You’re both my boys.”

Ben pressed his face into the Amazon’s collar bone, breath evening as he inhaled her familiar scent of salt, steel, and predator.

The Men of Letters’s bunker, while capable of comfortably holding a small family of seven and uncomfortably being able to house six more Amazon teenagers, it was not equipped to also house a small army of even smaller genetically altered child soldiers, nor their older animalistic looking precursors.

Luckily, Deanna literally had legions of angels begging to be at her beck and call. After Atropos heard the problem, she immediately scheduled for everyone to be out of the bunker for a week.

When Deanna and her entourage returned, it was to find two new underground floors full of bedrooms. Half were painted a soft blue, and the other a cheery yellow.

She revoked the angel’s access to daytime TV and Martha Stuart after that.


Balthazar rolled his eyes. “Look, if you want to explain this whole humanity thing to a bunch of beings with no concept of it, then I’m your angel.”

“No.” Deanna chanted.

“Love, Atropos and Abner both called me individually to help, especially after my stirling work with those cupids in Mexico.”

“They formed a sex cult in the Andes!” the hunter yelled.

“Yeah, but no one suspected them of being more than human, did they?”

The hunter’s teeth ground together audibly. “No.”

“Look, Deanna.” Balthazar’s normally jovial countenance turned serious. “Despite what you thin, it’s not your choice; it’s Emma’s. Those are her people that she saved, and she asked me for my help.”

Emma kissed the tops of the twin’s heads. Ben grinned happily, while Alec flailed away, flushing scarlet in embarrassment. The Amazon laughed, snagging the pre-teen in a one armed hug, which devolved into a cat-pile when Ben tackled his brother down too.

Castiel held his wife close.

“Our little girls are all grown up,” she sighed into his tan coat.

“Mortals have a tendency to change the most in the moments you look away.”

“Cas,” she sniffed, punching him in the shoulder. “You don’t say things like that aloud.”




Emma turned Camp Chippewa into a satellite base for the increasing collection of hunters, angels, and monsters brought under the flag of hunting down evil. Remiel respectfully asked to accompany her. She gave him a long, long, look, before saying yes.

Most of the transgenics, used to a sparse military lifestyle and uncomfortable around ‘normal’ civilians, went with Emma too, eager to put their skills to the test against the various creatures which went bump in the night. A few, mostly those with less than human appearances, stayed behind at the bunker. They were endlessly fascinated with Deanna’s entourage of angels, who took great delight in describing their true forms to the transgenics, in as much as a human could perceive them.

Atropos and Abner coordinated to increase the hunting organization’s response time to threats. They even approached Deanna with plans to set up another safe house in Arizona to more thoroughly handle threats in the southwest.

The general gave their plan the green light without looking too hard at what she was signing, too preoccupied with the calls pouring in from the various Vatican, Canadian, and European supernatural organizations, who wanted to re-establish contacts in the States, after the last major organization went radio silent in the 1950s.

Sam was giddy to play ambassador, having finally given his role as head researcher fully over to Henry in exchange for slightly more time on the field. Deanna still had yet to let her brother live down finally growing sick of researching.

Castiel contented himself with looking after his children. Jim had begun to express a prodigious talent for smiting, much the same way his sister had translocation. Occasionally, the seraph would fly back to heaven for a case, but these trips were becoming less common as the long line of trials dwindled.

Bobby was the same as ever, if a bit more grizzled and grey around the ears. He had yet to accept Deanna’s invitations to live at the bunker, citing his need for privacy. That never stopped the groups of hunters and angels from crowding at his door.

The angel Sariel discovered a passion for scavenger hunts, and could usually be found in the junk yard with a laundry list of spell components and books the old hunter required. The lizard-man would flit across the globe, sometimes on the wing, sometimes using more mundane methods of travel. Rumors of scaled chameleon aliens increased exponentially. Last anyone heard of him, he had met up with some friend of the Doctor, and left on a short vacation to expand his cultural horizons.

At the height of Balthazar’s business’s popularity, the angel grew bored. He gave the host his two week’s notice, told them not to send him any more jobs on human-heaven interaction lessons, and went off to join the Cupids in South America.

Mary and Jim grew up into fine nephilim, well adjusted and loved in ways neither of their parents ever experienced, but never failed to deliver. Mary considered attending school in a different universe, just so the host of angels who dogged her family’s step would stop being so helpful all the time. She’s stuck between Hogwarts and a place called Ouran. Ben is determined to keep her out of trouble wherever she ends up.

Heaven continued on its new path of trial by jury, and everyone was all the happier for it. Even Raphael didn’t mind too much, after the nihilist found a liking for earth thanks to the miraculously hedonistic cult, and their ambrosia distilled brews.

The Colonel just thinks all the bipedal beings around him are silly.

Thus the round-world turned.





1950’s slang

circled: married
jacketed: going steady
real gone: in love
stepping out: going out

(I’ve read so much Captain America fic with the old timey word smithing)

There are always stories about Dean accidentally marrying Cas, due to strange angelic traditions. I’ve always wanted to see a story where Cas accidentally marries Dean, because lord knows he doesn’t understand humans.

So, no Leviathans means no God tablets, means no Kevin. :(

One year between S7 to S8 puts Mary at 3yrs old.

By the end of S8 she is 4 yrs old. Her brother is ~2.

Mentions of Monster in Paris and Dr. Who.


Why does no one ever seem to remember that Cain is Dean’s infinitely great grandfather? It’s legit cannon.

So....without the Mark of Cain angst, the next chapter kind of ran away with itself and turned into a crossover with Dark Angel.

S9.5 AU

Who saw that Dark Angel crossover coming? Certainly not me! I was browsing my favorite tags list, and then Emma was like, “Hey, monster kids! I call dibs!”

So...yeah. Amazons raising transgenics.

Camp Chippewa is a reference to the summer camp Wednesday Addams and Pugsley were sent to in Addams Family Values. Another awesome movie you should see. :)

Echidna was the mother of Chimera in greek mythology.


Mary is a month past 4yrs old by the end of S9. Jim is about 2yrs old. Imagine him learning the word No, while having ‘prodigous smiting talents.’ That’s gonna be fun.
Continue Reading Next Chapter

About Us

Inkitt is the world’s first reader-powered publisher, providing a platform to discover hidden talents and turn them into globally successful authors. Write captivating stories, read enchanting novels, and we’ll publish the books our readers love most on our sister app, GALATEA and other formats.