Author Topic: Time's The Charm  (Read 1637 times)

Becky Winchester

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Time's The Charm
« on: February 19, 2017, 07:46:20 AM »
[size=9]29th November, 2013[/size]

Snow on the ground, Thanksgiving in the air, Christmas just around the corner. The lives of the various branches of the Winchester family had settled into something approaching normal, enjoying a kind of peace they had been sorely lacking for quite some time. Events of a world-ending nature were at an all-time low, and even the demon activity had calmed down somewhat. Of course, that didn't mean there were no demons or monsters to deal with. Daily life threw up enough examples to keep the hunters interested outside their domesticity, and for Sam, in particular, it was a necessary diversion.

In the wake of the attacks that had stripped Becky of her father and temporarily of her sanity, he had made good on his promise to her grandfather to begin teaching her how to look after herself in the rough and ready world of the hunt. Months of patient theory had come down to this moment ... her first hunt. Something had been inflicting nightmares on small children in Sioux Falls; something relatively harmless, but if left unchecked, it could become more serious.

Between them, they had worked out that it had to be a monster, and eventually had come to the decision that it was a liquid shifter - a monster that could change its form at will, but was essentially a gelatinous being and thus relatively easy to handle. It was, of course, hiding in the sewers, and Sam had been hard pressed to keep Becky from charging down there without any prep at all. His insistence, however, meant that now they had a weapon - simple cooking oil, of all things, to separate the thing's molecules - and with the weather turning colder, now was the perfect time to go hunting.

Armed with her spray can, Becky squelched along dark tunnels with Sam, thrilled by the sense of safety and danger that came with her first voluntary adventure. "Ugh ... what did I step in?"

"Try not to think about it," Sam advised, knowing there were all kinds of things in the tunnels that she'd be better off not knowing about, and whatever she'd stepped in was just one of them. He didn't much want to think about them either, especially the rats. He'd almost rather have to face a half dozen demons than a couple of rats, but rats weren't what they were after today. With a flashlight in one hand and a spray can of oil in the other, Sam led the way through the tunnel in search of their prey. Though the monster they were hunting should have been fairly easy prey, Sam knew one could never be too careful as even the smallest mistake could be lethal.

"You know," she murmured, trying to keep her voice from echoing ahead of them, "you are far too comfortable down here. Is this a kink I should know about?" She flashed him an adrenaline-fueled grin in the light from the torch, just on the edge of hysterical excitement. It was one thing to read about these things; quite another thing to actively hunt them. The Men of Letters would not know what to do with her when Sam was through, and she loved it.

"Comfortable?" Sam echoed dubiously. "Hardly. The sewer is the last place I'd like to be, but these things like dark places, and you don't get much darker than this. And we should try to be quiet. We don't want this thing to know we're coming," he added, for good measure.

"It's made of goo, how does it have ears?" she asked, but she obediently shut her mouth after that. Not that doing so helped in the slightest. Barely a moment after she'd closed her mouth, a mass of said goo swarmed up the tunnel toward them, rising up in a wave that clearly intended to envelop the pair entirely. Becky, true to form, yelped and dropped her can, ducking and covering her face with her arms.

Sam might have explained that the thing didn't need to have ears, that it only needed to sense the vibration of their voices and footsteps and movement, but before he had a chance to do that, it seemed the thing had already found them.

"Becky! Light a match!" Sam shouted, as he stepped in front of her, not only to shield her from the thing, but to coat it with oil. The trick would be getting out of the way in time so that they didn't get trapped by the fireball that was likely to be caused by the flame.

Cowering behind him, Becky looked up, cringing just at the thought of being covered with that ... stuff ... heading in their direction. "Match, right," she muttered, digging into her pocket for the matches. "It's moving really fast, Sam!" And growing bigger, it seemed, the gelatinous mass expanding to fill the width of the tunnel as it accelerated toward them.

"Throw the match and run!" he shouted, emptying his can of oil and hoping it was enough. There was no time now to try and find the one she'd dropped. He was practically pushing her backwards already, in a hurry to get the hell out of there before they were covered in goop and oil and ended up going up on flames themselves.

The flame stuttered into life in her hands, flicked toward the oily disintegrating mass of whatever the hell that was. She stumbled in the ankle-deep water as Sam urged her back, pausing only long enough to see the oil ignite before letting out a loud squeal and ... attempting to outrun a fireball.

"Go, go, go!" he shouted, giving her a push in the opposite direction, just as the oil ignited with a loud whooshing sound and he felt the heat of the flames behind them. "Turn right!" he called, remembering a side passage they'd passed on their way in and hoping they could use it to take cover from the fireball that was inevitably headed their way.

She almost missed the turning, her fingertips catching the edge of the wall with just enough force to swing her off her straight line and sharply to the right. She ran straight into the painfully solid chill of a ladder - this wasn't a passage, it was an access-way, and there was only just enough room for the both of them in it with nothing peeking out to tempt the flames hard on their heels.

Sam ducked around the corner right on Becky's heels and pressed his body against hers to shield her from any flames that might manage to reach them there. The heat was almost unbearable, but there wasn't enough time to outrun the fireball; they just had to hope it burned itself out before it reached them.

She squeaked against his chest, squeezing her eyes shut as he crowded her into that small space, both hoping like hell this was not as crazy an idea as it seemed. With a roar, the fireball they had created whooshed toward them ... and sputtered out, the barest brush of flame licking the ladder at Sam's back but no further. The silence that followed was heavy, the darkness somehow darker than usual. Eventually, Becky blinked, peering over Sam's shoulder. "Is that it?"

Sam's eyes, too, were squeezed shut, and he found himself muttering a prayer to any deity that wanted to listen. He knew it was going to be a close call, but he felt the heat at his back and knew it had been almost too close. Hopefully, her grandfather would never find out just how close or they'd both get a lecture. "I think so," he replied, remaining where he was a moment longer and listening for any hint one way or the other in the main part of the tunnel.

"I think we made the sewer smell worse," she murmured, reluctantly releasing her grip on his shirt as she fished for the flashlight. They really should make sure their quarry was actually dead and gone before getting out of the acrid miasma they had created.

"Sorry," he told her. Burnt sewage never did smell very good, but neither did burnt oil or whatever that thing was they had just melted. "Stay here. I'll see if it's ... gone," he said, flicking his flashlight back on and prying himself slowly away from her to take a wary glance around the corner.
[color=indigo:9e1cb544fb][size=9:9e1cb544fb][i:9e1cb544fb][b:9e1cb544fb]The more real things get, the more like myths they become.[/b:9e1cb544fb][/i:9e1cb544fb][/size:9e1cb544fb][/color:9e1cb544fb]

Becky Winchester

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Re: Time's The Charm
« Reply #1 on: February 19, 2017, 07:47:08 AM »
There was no sign of the gelatinous mass either advancing or retreating; instead, the ankle-deep water now bore a charred layer of slime atop it, all that was left of the unfortunate shifter that had chosen to prey on this particular town. Never one to obey when she thought she was missing something, Becky leaned around Sam to peer down the tunnel as well. "Oh god ... I think I'm going to be sick," she complained, holding her nose against the smell.

Sam said nothing regarding the smell, though it was enough to turn his stomach, too. "Up the ladder," he instructed, choosing the quickest way out of the muck and the stench of charred slime and sewage. He was doing his best to hold back a gag, wanting nothing but a deep gulp of fresh air.

Still holding her nose, Becky drew in a deep breath and abruptly stopped breathing, both hands reaching for the rungs as she scampered up the ladder as quickly as she could. The manhole was heavy above her, but she was determined, and thankfully it wasn't in the middle of a busy street. Crawling out, she sprawled on the snowy sidewalk, gulping in huge lungfuls of clean air. "Your dad never said it would smell that bad!"

Unfortunately for Sam, by the time he clambered out behind Becky, his stomach heaved and retched up both his breakfast and lunch, which probably didn't do much to calm her roiling stomach. Thankfully, they'd been prepared for the mess by dressing in the same kind of garb any proper sewer worker might wear, so it was just a matter of hosing themselves down or just discarding the stuff.

Amazingly, Becky didn't vomit, though that could have been through sheer force of will rather than anything else. It was her first hunt, after all. She didn't want to make a complete fool of herself, especially after she'd chickened out down there in the first place. She rolled onto her knees, stroking her hand against his back as he emptied his stomach. "Aren't you supposed to be the experienced one here?" she teased gently, kissing his temple.

He heaved again, but without anything really left to heave up, it was nothing but a reflex. He took a few deep gulps of breath and wiped his face off with some clean snow before even daring to answer her question. "Never ran into anything like that before," he explained, with a scowl. "That was disgusting!"

She snickered at his declaration. "I think your dad sent us after that thing on purpose," she decided. "Figured I'd give up on the practical side if I got all sick and stinky first time around." She was unlikely to ever be as good a hunter as any of the Winchesters, but Becky was too stubborn to give up at the first hurdle.

"I'm the one that got sick," Sam replied with another scowl that was partly embarrassment and partly annoyance. "I just love wading in s*** and puking my guts out. And we don't even get paid." That was probably the worst part about hunting - it was the most thankless job in the world, without pay or benefits or even a "Thank you" most of the time, but someone had to do it.

They were lucky in one respect, however; her father's estate had proved to be far more abundant than either of his daughters had any idea of. Even split equally down the middle, with taxes and all taken out, Becky and Sam didn't so much have a nest egg as they had an entire colony of nests to support themselves with. They wouldn't need to worry about that side of things at all. There was one thing missing, though - something they hadn't really tried to discuss since that first morning after the Furies had left her mind. "So ... this would be a bad time to ask you to ask me to marry you again, huh?"

Sam couldn't help but chuckle at that, though the subject of her question wasn't really a laughing matter. "You want me to propose while I'm covered in s*** and just puked my guts out?" he asked, chuckling again. It was about the least romantic moment he could think of.

She grinned, her eyes sparkling. Despite the gunk clinging to them both, it felt good to get back to basics with her personality after their little adventure underground. "Well, at least you could be pretty sure I'm not only in it for your looks."

"You want to kiss this mouth?" he asked, a teasing smirk lighting his face a little too reminiscent of his father's. He'd just left the contents of his stomach on the snowy sidewalk. He thought he should probably suck on a breath mint first or something.

"Who said anything about kissing your mouth?" she smirked, kissing the end of his nose just because he'd brought it up. "C'mon, let's do something about the stink." Climbing to her feet, she reached for his hand to pull him up with her.

He wrinkled his nose at the kiss, but only because they both stunk. "Becky, do you really want me to ask you again?" he asked, as she pulled him up after her. This wasn't the most romantic of settings, but it sure would be memorable. It wasn't the first time he was asking her, but the last time he'd asked, the timing hadn't been right. "Maybe I should make you ask me this time," he teased.

"Maybe you should," she agreed fondly, happy to tease and be teased. "But if I do it, you know it'll either be an inappropriate surprise, or a really formal date night. Your choice - covered in sewage in the street, or strangled by a tux?"

"Hmm, maybe I should take the sewage," he replied with a grin, though unlike his father, he was not averse to wearing a suit. Without another word, he went down on one knee, both of her hands in his. "Rebecca Hoffman, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" he asked, drawing a few strange looks from passersby. It wasn't everyday someone proposed in the middle of the sidewalk, and even less often that they were covered in sewer sludge.

The last time he had asked, she had not given him an answer, refusing to muddy her promise with the confusion of grief she had been struggling with at that point in time. But six months on, she had finally been allowed to grieve naturally, finding her own way to come to terms with the loss, and Sam had been no small part of that recovery. She might only be nineteen, but she knew there would be no one else like him. "Not sure it's an honor, so much as a life sentence," she smiled down at him. "But yeah. Yeah, I'll marry you."

Sam leaned closer, dropping his voice to a whisper. "I saw someone propose that way in a movie," he confessed, chuckling a little at what she'd said. "A life sentence. I like that, but we're not being forced." He smiled at her reply though, relieved she was finally ready to say yes. They were both young, yes, but they'd been through more in their short lives than most people experienced in an entire lifetime. "I love you, Becky," he said, his voice quiet, his expression softening, just before applause broke out from the onlookers around them.

"I love you too," she promised him, leaning down to touch her forehead to his where he knelt in front of her, her cheeks lighting up in a blush at the realization that they had an audience. "But not enough to kiss your sicky mouth while I smell like everyone else's crap."

Sam didn't blush, but he was suddenly all too aware of the fact that they'd drawn an audience. "Come on. Let's get out of here," he told her, taking her hand and leading her away from the crowd, resisting the urge to wave and take a bow. They'd left the car a short distance away, near where they'd entered the sewers from the shelter of an alley.

Laughing, Becky avoided the curious eyes watching them as she skipped along in his wake, trying to keep up in gunky waders that seemed to be pulling the smell with them in some kind of invisible net. "You car is gonna smell so bad," she warned him, not sure his stomach could take being trapped inside with that smell.
[color=indigo:9e1cb544fb][size=9:9e1cb544fb][i:9e1cb544fb][b:9e1cb544fb]The more real things get, the more like myths they become.[/b:9e1cb544fb][/i:9e1cb544fb][/size:9e1cb544fb][/color:9e1cb544fb]

Becky Winchester

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Re: Time's The Charm
« Reply #2 on: February 19, 2017, 07:47:43 AM »
"Nah, I packed a change of clothes in the trunk," Sam assured her. It wasn't his first day at the rodeo, so to speak, after all, and if anything, he'd come prepared. It might not have been a good idea to have eaten that big breakfast though, but no one was perfect.

"Nudity in the street too? I'm getting all the treats today, aren't I?" One thing he could say about his girl ... despite everything she'd been exposed to, pretty much nothing dampened Becky's personality. She was going to be teasing him for decades, regardless of how appropriate her teases were at any given time.

"I meant your coat and boots!" he told her, chuckling a little at her misunderstanding or at his own mistake in the way he'd phrased it. As for her teasing, it was what made Becky who she was, and he didn't mind a bit. "I'd say a hot bath is in order, wouldn't you?" he asked, as they doubled-back to where he'd parked the car.

"You know me, I never say no to bath-time nookie," she countered cheerfully. Yes, she was stinky; yes, she had foul gunk clinging to her rubber boots and the waterproof mac Sam had insisted she wear; but on the plus side, she had just killed her first monster, without anyone getting hurt, and she had just said yes to the question that had been hanging over their heads for months now. All in all, she felt she had a right to be disgustingly cheerful.

And she had practically been thrown up on for the second time in their relationship, but who was counting? "You did good, Beck," he praised her, even if she had panicked when the thing had gotten close. "Are you sure this is something you'd like to try again?" In spite of his praise, it had been a close call - almost too close - and he knew better than anyone how dangerous hunting could be.

"Hmm, let me think," she mused impishly. "Go hunting for the other half of the key to Atlantis with only one real hunt under my belt, or do it knowing that I'm not going to squeal and try to hide every time something looks at me. Tough decision." She grinned at him, nudging his elbow with her own. "I'm safe with you, I know I am. I just kinda want you to be safe with me, too."

"Is that what all this is about?" Sam asked, turning to face her just as they reached the car. He'd thought she wanted him to teach her to hunt so that they could be partners, like his parents were, or had it been all about Atlantis all along?

She hesitated, her smile dying in the face of the accusation in his voice. "You know it isn't," she told him. "I've never lied to you, Sam, how could you possibly think I would start now? If I don't learn how to do the practical stuff, I'm going to be locked up in that bunker the second they fully initiate me, and you know it. Call me crazy, but I'd rather spend my life with you, doing real things, rather than be a glorified secretary to a couple of old men who think they know everything because they read it in a book."

"No, I guess not. I just ..." He sighed, frowning a little as he turned to pop the trunk so they could at least ditch the smelly rubbers and raincoats. "You know, my Dad watched my Mom die. There was nothing he could do. He had no choice but to leave her behind. I want us to be partners like they are, but I don't know what I'd do if I ever have to face a choice like that."

Becky bit her lip, lowering her eyes as she frowned. "Do .. do you want me to go to the bunker?" she asked quietly, desperately hoping that this was not what he wanted for her life. "I don't think I can handle being in the safest place on Earth, and having to watch you walk away whenever you have something else to do. But if that's what you want, then ..." She shrugged, turning away as she undid the buttons on her mac.

"No, of course not. I want you to do whatever you want to do, and I promised I'd help you find the key. I'm just ..." There was that sigh again, even as he turned her to face him and tilted her chin up to face him. "I love you, Becky. I just don't want to lose you. That's all."

Turned back to him, she shook her head. "Sam, I already came close to dying," she reminded him, her eyes dark with remembered pain. "I survived it, because of you. If it was you standing where I am now, would you really agree to never hunting again and just waving me off every time something dangerous came up?"

"No, I didn't say you couldn't hunt. I just need to sort it out in my head," he told her, though he thought he'd already done that. Her panic in the sewers clearly showed him she still had a lot to learn, and he wasn't sure he wanted to risk her life teaching her, and yet, this was something every hunter had to go through. It wasn't a trial by fire exactly, but even the slightest mistake could prove fatal.

"I've been sheltered and protected from all of this all my life," she said quietly, doubt filling her voice. "If I hadn't been ... if I'd known how to protect myself, maybe ..." She trailed off, her frown deepening as she shucked out of her waterproof mac. The words didn't need to be spoken for them to hang in the air. Maybe my dad wouldn't have died.

She didn't have to tell him what she was thinking for him to know, and suddenly he was pulling her toward him, inwardly hating himself for raining on her parade and reminding her of the dangers inherent in their chosen profession, as well as her father's death. Every hunter had to face the matter of their own mortality, as well as that of those they loved, sooner or later. "I'm sorry, Becky," he told her quietly. "I'm an idiot."

"No, you're not." She offered him a small smile, bundling up the mac with the ick on the inside to stuff it into the trunk. Turning, she perched on the edge of the bumper, working on changing her boots. "You're the best person I've ever known. And I know I'm not up to much. I know I'm just this bookish weirdo with an unhealthy obsession that everyone seems to think needs protecting, but ... protecting me just hurts more. I might feel safe, but I don't feel trusted. I trust you with my life, Sam. But I can't expect you to do the same for me, not when I can't even protect myself."

"I do trust you, Becky," he insisted, frowning worriedly at her, more angry at himself than anything else. All she needed was a little confidence and a lot more training. She wasn't born to it the way he'd been, after all. "If you really want to do this, then you'll learn, just like I did." Okay, maybe not just like he had, but the world was a different place now than it had been when he was growing up and learning to hunt. "I do want to protect you. I'm not gonna apologize for that. That's what people do who love each other."

"I didn't mean ..." She shook her head, letting out a harsh sigh. "I just ... if you're watching my back, who's watching yours? Protecting me isn't just about keeping me out of harm's way. It's about keeping you safe, too, and I know how you feel about hunting. The only way to protect you is to learn all this stuff so I can be there. I promise, I won't flake ever again."

"You didn't flake," he insisted, though in a way, she sort of had. He sighed and took a seat beside her on the bumper. "Have I ever told you about my first hunt?" he asked, as he, too, went about shucking his rubbers and switching to hiking boots.

"No," she said, a spark of curiosity lighting up her eyes as she tilted her head to look up at him. That, at least, was better than the sad frown she had been wearing for a while. "You don't really talk much about your past at all, not since that first date we had."

He shrugged his shoulders, an almost pensive look on his face. "It's all tied up with Hope and my parents and ... I don't like to think about it much." Partly because his parents had died in that past and partly because he was still missing his sister and his kid brother, too, for that matter. "It was a Rugaru. You know what that is?" he asked, as he laced up his boots.

"Uh ..." Becky frowned, searching through that impressive memory of book smarts for the answer. "Monster that eats humans and only finds out when it gets hungry?" she asked, not entirely sure she had that right. Right or wrong, she was pretty sure Sam would make sure she knew.
[color=indigo:9e1cb544fb][size=9:9e1cb544fb][i:9e1cb544fb][b:9e1cb544fb]The more real things get, the more like myths they become.[/b:9e1cb544fb][/i:9e1cb544fb][/size:9e1cb544fb][/color:9e1cb544fb]

Becky Winchester

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Re: Time's The Charm
« Reply #3 on: February 19, 2017, 07:48:15 AM »
"Something like that, yeah. Anyhow, Dad took me out on my first hunt when I was twelve. Mom thought I was too young, but he insisted the sooner I learned how to take care of myself, the better. Dad was six the first time he shot a gun. Can you imagine? Six!"

She snorted with laughter, finding it only too easy to imagine Dean doing something like that. "At least he waited until you hit double figures," she pointed out in amusement. "What happened?"

"The problem with hunting is that no matter how well you plan or how much research you do, things never seem to go the way you think they will. You have to be prepared for every possible outcome, and always be one step ahead of the monster, but that's easier said than done. It was supposed to be an easy hunt. Piece of cake, my Dad said. Rugarus are generally solitary monsters, but they're hard as hell to kill. Fire will do it, but that's about it, unless you have an angel blade or something like that. The other problem is that they look mostly human, so it's hard to differentiate them from normal humans unless you get close and if you get too close, it's going to eat you," Sam explained, stifling a shudder at the thought of that.

"Sam, your dad's idea of an easy hunt is visiting the underworld for a little sight-seeing," Becky pointed out with a wry smile. "I think I can see where this is going." She leaned against him, shoulder to shoulder. "Kinda wanna hear the story from you, though."

He shrugged again at the memory which, on rare occasions, still woke him in the middle of the night. "I don't blame my Dad really. He needed me to know how to take care of myself and my sister, but I'm not sure I would have picked a Rugaru for my first hunt. Anyway, long story short, Dad baited the thing, while I waited nearby with a blowtorch to take the thing out, but when it got close, I froze up. It wasn't that I couldn't do it; I was just so terrified I froze. Dad shot it with the Colt, and that was that. Told me he was proud of me, but I didn't do a damned thing, but stand there like an idiot. I never froze up again after that, but I always made sure I was prepared."

"You stood face to face with something that wanted to eat you," she pointed out. "At twelve, I couldn't even hold a conversation with a boy, much less look him in the eye. I'd say you're winning on the capable stakes here."

"Not the point," Sam said. "The point is, Dad knew I'd react that way. He even expected it. It was sort of a trial by fire, I guess. My first initiation into the world of hunting. It was a lesson, just like today was a lesson." He chuckled momentarily at another memory. "My Mom wouldn't talk to him for a month after that, no matter how many times he apologized."

"Really?" Becky blinked, surprised by that. "Your mom loves yelling at your dad. She was seriously so pissed with him, she didn't even speak?" The sheer awe on her face suggested that she hadn't considered just how much of a lioness Jo Winchester could be when it came to her cubs.

"Oh, she yelled at him, and then she wouldn't speak to him. It made conversations kind of awkward. It was Aunt Ellen that finally got her to talk to him. She made him promise never to take me on a hunt again, until I was old enough to drive, but ..." He shrugged again, remembering how things had gone south, even after they'd defeated Hades. "Dad had to make Mom breakfast in bed for a year after that. And not just a bowl of cereal either."

Becky's hand curled into his, knowing he still struggled with the strange juxtaposition of having lost his parents young and yet having them right here with him now, only a few years older than he was. "Is that where the pancakes tradition started?" she asked with a curious smile. Watching Dean and Sam making pancakes together was an education, after all.

The mention of that tradition brought a smile to his face almost as much as the fact that her hand had found its way into his. "No, that started a lot earlier. I can't remember when really. It seems like Dad and I have been making pancakes together as long as I can remember." He had a faraway look in his eyes for a moment and thoughtful frown on his face. He was no longer part of that tradition anymore as it had since fallen to Bertie.

"I'd offer to let you teach me, but I'm really not an early riser," she chuckled, carefully smoothing past what could have been a painful moment. "Unless you want to install a stove, like, right next to the bed so I can learn how to flip without getting up."

"Maybe someday I'll carry on the tradition with a son of our own," he told her, with a soft smile, reaching over to brush his fingers against her cheek. He might have kissed her if his mouth didn't still taste like what he'd retched up.

"Or a daughter," she countered, her smile softening as she tilted her cheek into his touch. This might have been the closest they'd come, thus far, to an honest-to-goodness fight, and yet here they were, smiling like idiots at each other while sitting virtually in the trunk of his car on a public street. "You promised me a bath."

"Or a daughter," he echoed, confirming her wish. Or perhaps, if they were very lucky, at least one of each, but before that dream could come true, they needed to get married, and though Sam often felt old before his time, Becky was only nineteen. "I did, didn't I?" he asked, curling his fingers between hers, a soft smile on his face. Whatever they'd argued or nearly argued about seemed forgotten, and it was just as well. The last thing he wanted was for her to be angry with him.

"Mhmm," she nodded slowly, a warm smile spreading over her face as they lingered together. It was an utterly ridiculous place to be having a soft moment together, made worse by the fact that he really needed to wash his mouth out. "So ... your dad isn't going to kill me for taking your married virginity or anything, is he?"

"My Dad?" Sam echoed, laughing. "No. It's my Mom you have to worry about," he told her, tweaking the end of her nose before moving to his feet and pulling her up with him. "Come on. Let it not be said I don't keep my promises," he told her, regarding the bath.

"Your mom loves me, she says I'm the best thing that ever happened to you." Jo had also given Becky a few tips on how to handle the infamous Winchester temperament, which was probably why Sam's girl spent so much of her time forcing him to see the funny side. "Although ... maybe you should tell Ellen that she shouldn't be trying to find out if I have a good blow job," she added mildly, rising to her feet to toss her mucky boots into the trunk with everything else.

To be fair, Sam wasn't a carbon copy of his father, nor was he exactly like the late uncle he'd been named for. He was a little of both with some of his mother mixed in for good measure, but mostly he was himself, and while his father might have found that comment uproariously funny, Sam's jaw dropped as he gaped at her in disbelief. "Please tell me you're kidding," he said, turning a deep shade of red.

Becky's grin was gleeful as she took in his expression. "She demonstrated," she told him without mercy. "With a banana. Down in one. I was shocked."

"Okay, that's enough! I don't want to hear anymore!" he said, clapping his hands over his ears as he started toward the driver's seat, letting her slam the trunk closed.

Laughing, she did just that, circling the car toward the passenger door opposite him. He really did have no idea how easy he was to tease, although - to be fair - she hadn't made that last part up at all. She just hadn't mentioned that both she and Jo had then choked on their own bananas and had to be rescued by Bobby, who'd taken one look at the fruit and his wife, and spanked Ellen for being a tease herself. And Sam still thought sometimes that Becky might not be comfortable with his family. They felt more like family than her own ever had.
[color=indigo:9e1cb544fb][size=9:9e1cb544fb][i:9e1cb544fb][b:9e1cb544fb]The more real things get, the more like myths they become.[/b:9e1cb544fb][/i:9e1cb544fb][/size:9e1cb544fb][/color:9e1cb544fb]

Becky Winchester

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Re: Time's The Charm
« Reply #4 on: February 19, 2017, 07:48:45 AM »
The problem wasn't so much that his Aunt Ellen was teaching his girlfriend - no, fiancee - how to give him a blowjob, so much as the fact that his body was reacting to that suggestion in a way that was going to become painful before long if he didn't do something about it. And so, he got into the car and got the engine going and trying not to think about what Becky had just told him.

She bounced into the passenger seat beside him, making herself comfortable as he turned the engine over. "Sure you've got enough blood to power your brain for driving?" she asked him innocently. "Between your pants and your cheeks, I'm surprised there's any left in your brain for powering the more important bits." She grinned wickedly at him, reaching over to tuck his hair back from his brow.

"I can drive in my sleep," he retorted, though he wasn't angry - just a little sexually frustrated. Well, those were both things he had in common with his father, it seemed. "You owe me, by the way," he pointed out, looking over at her a moment before glancing over his shoulder to back the car out of the alley onto the road.

"What do I owe you?" she asked, still in that innocent tone. It was always so much fun to coax Sam into being embarrassingly blunt, and she was hoping this was one of those times. He blushed even more than she did when she got going.

"You owe me for taking you out on a hunt and for saving your ass from that ... thing ... which really needs a name. What should we call it? Jell-o Monster? The Blob?  Any ideas?" Yes, he was purposely changing the subject for reasons that might be obvious if one were observant.

"One or two, yeah," she grinned sweetly. "Only I don't need a banana to show off when I've got you around." He might have been trying to change the subject, but he hadn't changed it far enough. She could always drag it right back around to where it had been unless he made a clean break.

"You don't need to show off at all," Sam pointed out. In fact, he'd prefer it if she didn't. Unlike his father, who might like to brag about his sexual exploits, Sam preferred to keep that sort of thing private, especially between himself and Becky.

"I'm hardly gonna undo you and play in public," she laughed, stroking her fingertips into his hair as he drove. "I know I tease like a maniac, but it's a big step between teasing and actually doing it, you know."

"I'm not gonna complain if you want to give it a try, but, uh ... a banana?" he asked, glancing her way skeptically a moment. He wasn't sure he wanted to compare his boys to a banana and he sure as hell didn't want to think about her practicing with one.

She snorted with laughter. "It's not a comment on you," she promised. "The whole banana thing is all about innocently proving you can eat it in one go without chewing. For reference? I can't, but I will never chew on you."

"Okay, enough! Can we change the subject, please?" he asked, his jeans feeling a little too snug again suddenly. It wasn't the thought of her with a banana but something else, and it was making it difficult to concentrate on driving.

"Hmm, okay." She smiled, taking pity on him finally. "Leah wants us to go over to theirs for dinner sometime this week," she said, successfully changing the subject at his request. After all, the prospect of dinner with her big sister wasn't likely to make his pants problem worse.

"Do we have to?" he asked, with an almost boyish pout. He didn't have anything against her sister, except for the fact that it was always hard explaining what he did for a living. He was far more relaxed with his own family, but he couldn't expect her to ignore hers in favor of his all the time.

"Yes, we do," she nodded, laughing at his pout. "Dude, if I have to sit through dinners where you and Dean and Bobby are comparing past kills, you have to sit through Leah and Frank talking about furniture and babies. Besides, this time you'll be able to completely derail her by mentioning that we're engaged, too."

"She's just going to remind us how young we are and how we shouldn't let ourselves get tied down," he replied, though so far she hadn't disapproved of him, as far as he knew. About the only things he and Frank had in common was the fact that their significant others were sisters.

"Yeah, and coming from the woman who got engaged to her husband at sixteen, that's just a puff of air," Becky reminded him fondly. "She's just worried about me. I kinda went from loner to girlfriend in nought-to-sixty when you came along."

"There's no rush, you know, Beck," he reminded her, just in case she was nervous about the idea of getting married before she turned twenty. He was the one who was in a hurry, knowing life for hunters could be a little short-lived, but he didn't want to think about that right now either.

"Sam ..." Just the way she said his name was evidence enough that she was not worried about getting married. "I wouldn't have said yes if I wasn't ready," she pointed out. "I've already kept you waiting for an answer for six months. You know me. I think about everything, from every angle, and I drive myself nuts with it. If I wasn't absolutely sure I was ready to be a Winchester, there's no way I'd have said yes."

He almost breathed a sigh of relief to hear that. Though he might not say it enough, he loved Becky with every fiber of his being and couldn't wait to make her his wife. It was almost a moot point, since they were already living together, but he wanted to make it official. There was only one problem he could foresee, and it was one she was probably well aware of. "You realize becoming a Winchester puts a target on your back," he said, with a sidelong glance at her and that worried frown of his.

"There's already a target on my back," she shrugged, shaking her head. "The second I took charge of the necklace, I knew what I was doing. As soon as the right people find out that the key still exists, and that I have part of it, they'll come for me. Another reason why being a Winchester is a good thing."

"Maybe we should resolve that sooner rather than later," Sam said, though a mystery of that magnitude wasn't going to be easy to solve. He hadn't the foggiest idea where to start, but it figured it was probably by hitting the books.

"I'd rather know where Atlantis is first, rather than be wandering around with a complete key in my hand for however long that takes," she mused. "I think I'm close, but I could still be miles off where I need to be." And she hadn't thought it was a good idea to take a trip to Santorini when they'd been staying in Ares' home in Greece.

"We could go there for a honeymoon," Sam suggested with a casual shrug of his shoulders. She was the brains and he was the brawn, but so far, the arrangement was working well for them. If they went to Santorini for a honeymoon, it might look a little less suspicious than just taking a random trip there for no reason at all.

"You'd be okay with that?" she asked in surprise. She knew how much the normal side of life meant to him - a honeymoon seemed to be more normal than supernatural. "I mean, it's not like I plan on opening the damned door the second I find it, I just ... there's got to be a reason why the key's been protected for millenia. Not even the whole God and the angels thing knew about it."
[color=indigo:9e1cb544fb][size=9:9e1cb544fb][i:9e1cb544fb][b:9e1cb544fb]The more real things get, the more like myths they become.[/b:9e1cb544fb][/i:9e1cb544fb][/size:9e1cb544fb][/color:9e1cb544fb]

Becky Winchester

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Re: Time's The Charm
« Reply #5 on: February 19, 2017, 07:49:23 AM »
"Why wouldn't I be okay with it? It's a perfect cover, and if we get into any trouble, Ares and Ayden are close by. Besides, it's got sand and surf and isolation enough for us to enjoy ourselves, but you know as well as I do, that if we're too idle, we're both going to get bored," he reasoned.

She giggled softly. "You know me way too well," she admitted. "And besides, there's nothing to say that we'd have to spend the whole time on Santorini. We could hop over to Crete, too."

"If you like," he replied agreeably. He really didn't mind what they did, so long as she was happy. "So, I guess we need to set a date and start planning a wedding," he added with a grin, as he turned down the street that led to their house.

"I guess we do," she smiled back at him. "Sure you can handle being surrounded by bridal magazines for a while?" Not that she would ever go completely insane with the need for a fairytale wedding, but there were some things Becky was not prepared to go without.

"So long as you don't make me wear anything that makes me look silly," he replied. "Does this mean we need to pick a bridal party?" he asked, uncertainly. He'd never taken part in a wedding really, other than crashing his parents' wedding to save their lives, and wasn't sure what exactly was expected of him.

"A little one," she admitted. "I mean, we're not so abundantly blessed with friends and family that we're gonna have a huge wedding anyway, but a best man and a maid of honor is probably a good start."

"Best man," Sam mused aloud as he pulled the car into the gravel drive that led to the small house they were renting with hopes of buying sometime in the near future. His father wasn't really Best Man material, as he was already Father of the Groom, and Bobby was a little too old for the role. Who else was there? Ares, maybe?

"There's Joey, at the store," she pointed out. Sam nominally worked at her uncle's computer store, but given that her family knew what he did with his time, he was more of a well-paid part-time consultant than anything.

"Uh, no ... We're co-workers, not friends," Sam pointed out. While he might invite the guy to the wedding, he didn't feel close enough to him to ask him to be his Best Man. "What about you? Are you gonna ask Leah to be your whatever it's called?"

"I, uh ..." Becky laughed, shaking her head. "I love my sister, but she and I both know that she would try and take over out of love. So no, not Leah. Would Ayden stand up with me, do you think? She's probably my closest friend."

Sam smiled as he realized she was following his train of thought without even knowing it. "Yeah, I think she would, but if you ask Ayden, I'm asking Ares." He laughed at the thought of that. "He's gonna fill out a tux a lot better than I will."

"No one compares with you, and besides, if Leah is drooling over Ares, you can hide from her," she snickered affectionately. "We should make sure that your friend, you know the Jewish one ... Rupert? He should get an invitation."

"Frank and Ayden might have a problem with Leah drooling over Ares," Sam pointed out with a chuckle. "Rupert?" he echoed, furrowing his brows. He didn't have many friends and most of those he did have were either people he'd met at the computer shop or were Men of Letters or other hunters. "How big is this wedding going to be?" The fact was he didn't know anyone named Rupert.

"We don't have so many friends that it'll be huge," she reminded him fondly. "Family and a few friends, we can handle. I'd rather not have random people I've never met before just show up to a day that's supposed to be about us."

"Oh, wait ..." He chuckled as he realized who she was talking about when she mentioned Rupert. "You mean Rufus! Why didn't you just say so?" It wasn't like the car was bugged or anyone was there to overhear them, at least as far as they knew.

"Because I only met the guy once," she laughed, glad he'd worked out who she was talking about. Hopefully Rufus Turner would never find out that she had mis-remembered him as a Rupert; she didn't think he'd be the kind of person to let that go.

It would be funny as hell to tell him she'd forgotten his name, but it was doubtful Sam would do that unless he was inebriated. Then, all bets were off. "Rufus will definitely be invited. He's Uncle Bobby's best friend!" Sam explained, that being reason enough. He had no doubt she'd get better acquainted with Rufus in the future, but he hoped it would be for the right reasons and not because they were in a bind. He shut the engine off and pulled the keys from the ignition, before turning to look at her again. "So, hot bath and then ... Who do you want to tell first?"

"Your parents." That was a no-brainer, as far as she was concerned. Leah would find out when they went to dinner, and it would be better to do that in person. But Dean and Jo were the ones who deserved to know first. Even if Sam didn't realize it, a lot of their concern around him came from the fear that he might somehow manage to self-sabotage whatever happiness came his way. It was a family trait.

"You sure?" he asked, wondering if she didn't want to tell her grandfather first. Hopefully, he approved of him anyway, even if her association with him had gotten her father killed, or so Sam believed.

"I'm sure," she nodded confidently. "Your parents, then Grampa. Oh, and I guess since we're telling Grampa, we should get him to put Henry on the phone, too. I really can't see Grampa holding it to himself when he's only got one other person there to celebrate with."

Sam frowned a little at the mention of Henry - another missing piece of the puzzle that was the Winchester family. "Do you think he'd come to the wedding? Grampa ... Henry, I mean?" he asked, knowing the man better in the future that was Sam's past than in the present that was now.

"You know him better than I do," she said thoughtfully. "But I don't see why he wouldn't. He'd get to meet his whole family again, after thinking he was all alone for so long. Seriously, can you imagine him not being happy with you and Bertie around him?"

"Everyone's happy to be around Bertie," Sam pointed out, and why not? He was just a kid, untainted by the darkness around him. Ironically, that kid had been him once upon a time, but Sam didn't want to dwell on that too much. "I'd like him to be there," Sam said, deciding that for himself without hesitation.

"So he'll be there," Becky nodded firmly. "And if he ums and ahs about it, we'll sic Grampa on him. No one says no to Ephraim Hoffman. You might have noticed that." She flashed him a warm grin. As much as she loved her grandfather, he was definitively the head of her family, and no one crossed him if they could help it. Henry Winchester might be his elder, but they were too close for Ephraim not to use that against him if he had to.
[color=indigo:9e1cb544fb][size=9:9e1cb544fb][i:9e1cb544fb][b:9e1cb544fb]The more real things get, the more like myths they become.[/b:9e1cb544fb][/i:9e1cb544fb][/size:9e1cb544fb][/color:9e1cb544fb]

Becky Winchester

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Re: Time's The Charm
« Reply #6 on: February 19, 2017, 07:49:41 AM »
Sam chuckled again. "Okay, so we've got the Best Man and Matron of Honor, and we know who we're inviting. Now, we just need a date. What time of year would you like to visit Santorini?" he asked, figuring they'd just plan the wedding around the honeymoon, rather than the other way around.

"I have no idea," she laughed, touching her cheek to his shoulder affectionately. "That's the first thing we do, work out when we wanna go there. After that, everything else is easy. Right?" She flashed him a teasing smile, leaning over to kiss his cheek. "I really want to kiss you properly, so you need to find the mouthwash."

He smiled at her statement, his mouth still tasting a little too much like stale coffee and sour milk. "Yes, ma'am," he said, daring to at least touch a kiss to her forehead before turning to push the door open. Despite their almost first argument, he was glad she had finally agreed to be his wife and that they were at least in the planning stages of getting married.

"Question ... are we washing or ditching the sewage rubbers in the back?" she asked, turning to push her own way out of the passenger-side door. "The sooner the smell is gone, the better for me."

"Ditching," he replied without hesitation again. There wasn't much point in washing them when they were easily enough replaced. "I'll do that while you get the bath ready. Sound like a deal?" he asked, over the roof of the car.

Closing the door, she leaned against the car, sharing her smile with him. "Sounds like a good deal," she agreed, wiggling a finger in his direction. "Mouthwash." Ducking into the back seat for a moment, she rescued her bag, slinging it over a shoulder before heading for their front door, digging her keys out of her pocket.

"Yes, ma'am!" he replied, tossing her a mock salute and grinning from ear to ear. He was feeling happy and relieved, now that their first hunt was over and they'd both come out of it without so much as a scratch. Papa Winchester would be proud.
[color=indigo:9e1cb544fb][size=9:9e1cb544fb][i:9e1cb544fb][b:9e1cb544fb]The more real things get, the more like myths they become.[/b:9e1cb544fb][/i:9e1cb544fb][/size:9e1cb544fb][/color:9e1cb544fb]