I ATEN'T DEAD

Unlike Sir Terry P (le sob), I am still alive and kicking. Ohai!

Unfortunately, the ongoing adventures in the Jimiverse have been seriously compromised by a couple of factors: Firstly, I have been assailed by The Unpleasantly Solid Parsnip Of Mundane Reality, and have been having to spend all my time in Real Life, which is just ghastly. Secondly, the plot bunny pen is completely empty, with nothing but cobwebs and the occasional dust tumbleweed blowing through it – I never thought I'd miss the little bastards, but the place is kind of lonely without 'em. And Lastly, Jackie-Joy, the last plot bunny out of the pen, who is supposed to be dictating this story, has been the most reticent, most infuriating, most aggravating, most elusive diva of a plot bunny that ever sank its teeth into my ankle. Srsly, getting this story out of her has been like pulling teeth. From a crocodile. But hopefully, this document will turn into a whole chapter, and if the little… wretch can just get up a bit of momentum, we might get this story going again.


Chapter Eight

A game of football had broken out amongst the younger crowd as Dean and Aphrodite strolled arm-in-arm through the grounds of the guest house. When he spotted them, RJ's face broke into a beaming smile, and he left the tussle to lope over to them.

"Mom!" he let out a joyful cry, leaning down to grab Aphrodite in a hug, "Mom!"

"Hello, Roverto," she said in a doting voice.

"Ohhh, it's so great to see you!" he enthused, finally letting her go.

"Well, you didn't think I'd miss your wedding, surely," she cocked an eyebrow at him. "Oh, you've grown, even since your graduation!" She eyed both Winchesters. "You're taller than your father."

"Been that since I was sixteen," grinned RJ smugly.

"You get it from your grandfather," Aphrodite smiled. "After all, your Pappou Uranus was a Titan."

"I can still knock you on your ass, mister," growled Dean.

"He's bossy," complained RJ. "And short."

"Remember what Ronnie says about bein' short," Dean intoned ominously, "She makes up for it by bein' nastier, sneaker, and more brutal."

"You're grubby is what you are, look at you," Aphrodite's tone became slightly chiding," "You look like you've been rolling in the dirt, the way you did when you were just six months old, oh, you were such a grubby baby..."

"Uh, technically, he has been rolling in the dirt," Dean pointed out as she fished a handkerchief from her sleeve and began to wipe at his face.

"Mooooom!" wailed RJ with all the horror of any man who's being treated like a kid by his mother in front of his peer group, no matter how tall he may be.

"She's your mother, RJ," Dean grinned at his son's discomfort, "It's her job, just say 'Yes Mom'."

"Go back to your game," Aphrodite instructed her son, "We will have plenty of opportunity to speak later. You have done a wonderful job raising him," she said to Dean with a smile, watching RJ rejoin the game.

"Well, he's been an awesome kid," Dean shrugged. "When he hasn't been scaring the crap outta me, anyway."

"I look forward to meeting his betrothed," murmured Aphrodite. "She must be a most unusual woman to have attracted Roverto's suit."

"Oh, yeah, she's, uh, she's unusual," agreed Dean.

Aphrodite laughed. "Oh, I know that she is a daughter of Lycaon, a werewolf. But none of us can help how we're born. Does she take after her father, Andrew? He seems sweet."

"The hairy marshmallow, yeah, luckily for her, Sabine takes after her Dad," Dean confirmed. "If she'd taken after her Mom, poor kid would probably still be in therapy. Psychological therapy, or possibly hormone therapy, hard to say."

"Ah, my fellow mother-in-law," Aphrodite chuckled, "I also look forward to meeting her."

"Have a milk bone or something on hand, in case she's in a cranky mood," suggested Dean. "Well, crankier. Seriously, she shouldn't be allowed out in public on social occasions, not without a muzzle to make sure she doesn't bite any other guests..."

"She seems to be conducting herself in a civil enough fashion," observed Aphrodite. Dean turned to follow her line of sight.

Ronnie was walking along, a beaming smile on her face, between two tall, muscular men of around her own age – one looked like he could punch out a steer, the other looked like he could eat one in a single sitting – as they argued back and forth over her head.

"All that smell and all that noise, it's just not natural, Heph."

"Well, of course it's not natural – it's a mechanical contrivance. So is a chariot, Ares. It's just a logical extension of a chariot."

"At least with a chariot I can see the horsepower. How can something with no horses have horsepower?"

"Ah, well, Sam Winchester explained this to me, it's an historical description of power output, since when humanity began to develop these so-called 'engines', the existing source of draft power was the horse, and so…"

"Pay no attention to this limping idiot, good matron, he was dropped on his head. Quite a long way. All the way from Mount Olympus, in fact. Let us find something to drink, and I will tell you about the last battle I inspired."

"More war stories, Ares? I'm sure that as fellow worker of metal, she'd rather hear about my latest project, the next generation of atom-powered mechanical mice."

"Nyaaaaaarg," went Ronnie.

"Ah, Dean Winchester," Hephaestus caught sight of them and strode over to grasp Dean's forearm in greeting, "Well met. I note the care with which you have maintained your beautiful conveyance."

"Dean Winchester," Ares nodded solemnly, "I have heard of you. A man after my own heart – keep your weapons sharp, and your enemies in sight."

"Always," Dean beamed, smiling pointedly at Ronnie, who snarled back.

"I congratulate you on the impending marriage of Roverto," Hephaestus went on, "You must be very proud of him. I look forward to meeting his betrothed."

"If she is at all like her mother," Ares smiled down at Ronnie, "I am sure she will be a most worthy woman."

"But now, good matron," Hephaestus took Ronnie's arm again, "Let us find refreshment, and perhaps you could tell us of your own craft – I understand you have wrought a weapon capable of killing demons?"

"Perhaps it would be more interesting to hear of the last demon you killed with it," Ares countered as the odd trio headed off in the direction of booze.

"They were insistent about attending the occasion," Aphrodite explained, "They became very fond of Roverto when he was very small. He loved to watch Heph in the workshop, or play at combat with Ares, and both his uncles indulged him so."

"He's never quite grown out of either of those things," Dean told her, chuckling to himself. "I can't believe it, my boy's gettin' married. I mean, gettin' married. I look at him, and some days, all I see is that three year old kid who falls over and scrapes his knee and needs me to kiss it better."

"Don't complain to me," chuckled Aphrodite, "I have twenty, and have been worrying about them for thousands of years!"

"When did he go and grow up like this? He's got his own life, now, he's gonna have his own family, and I all I can worry about is how am I supposed to keep him safe now…"

"Time is such a fickle thing for mortals," Aphrodite laughed at his musings. "But I think Roverto is well and truly ready to stand on his own two feet. He is grown into a fine man, like his father," she put a hand on his arm. "An honourable man. A handsome man."

"Well, yeah, it does run in the family," grinned Dean, the Killer Smile unattenuated by age, "And it's nothin' to do with Grandpa Uranus."

"It seems that the mother of the bride is acquainting herself with those two," Aphrodite nodded after Hephaestus and Ares, who were apparently having the workings of a beer keg explained to them by Ronnie, "So perhaps you can introduce us properly later, after we get… re-acquainted."

"Reacquainted?" Dean cranked The Killer Smile up a notch. "Is that what they're callin' it these days?"

"Indeed." She began to steer him towards the guest house. "This building is most carefully restored. Is the interior redecorated, also?"

"Oh, totally," Dean nodded, "You should see some of the furniture, and Sam says that some of the wallpaper in the rooms is period. It's got sea shells on it in mine," he added helpfully.

"I should very much like to see this wallpaper," she told him with a smile.

"The ceiling mouldings are pretty intricate too," he suggested.

"Then by all means, acquaint me with the décor of your room," she instructed, taking his arm.

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"Well, that's something you don't see every day," commented Sam, watching Hephaestus with the beer keg.

"Uh-huh," Andrew nodded. "If I kept a diary, today would definitely be one to write about. 'After lunch, saw Greek God do keg stand'. Now I've seen everything."

"Yeah." Sam cocked his head thoughtfully. "Admittedly, when doin' a keg stand, it's more usual to upend yourself over the keg, not hoist the keg over yourself and upend it…"

"Whatever floats your boat," shrugged Andrew, "As long as he doesn't crush the… oh."

"Well, they got plenty more," Sam observed pragmatically, "We're talkin' college graduates and Hunters, here."

They heard the other god, Ares, growl at Hephaestus, calling him a clumsy fool, before performing a graceful handstand onto another keg. He then produced a knife and, balancing on one hand, plunged it into the top of the container, then drank from the geyser of beer erupting from it.

"Okay, so, yeah," Andrew conceded, "But generally, you're supposed to use the outlet."

"Well, he's a god of war," Sam noted, "So maybe stabbing things just seems like the right way to go about achieving your goal."

"I wonder if that's why he seems to be getting along with Ronnie so well," mused Andrew, "They do have a philosophy in common."

"What, 'Might Is Right'?" asked Sam.

"Well, I was actually thinking,' If in doubt, stab it, then drink beer'," replied Andrew.

"Dean could relate to that," decided Sam, "It's no wonder they drive each other nuts, they're too much alike."

"Well, as of tomorrow, they're gonna be officially family," Andrew observed. "And you know what they say about family. Can't live with 'em…"

"…Can't murder 'em and get away with it," sighed Sam, as Andrew nodded. "Although it might be nice if the wrestling matches were a little more discreet. And infrequent." He looked around. "Where is Dean, anyway?"

"Last I saw, he was headed for the guest house with Aphrodite," shrugged Andrew.

"Oh, crap," groaned Sam, "Thank fuck I'm sharing a room with Kelly, he's gonna have a whole new repertoire of beautiful natural acts he's gonna want to tell me about all the way back to South Dakota."

"Wouldn't he tell you Chicks I Have Banged stories all the way back anyway?" queried Andrew.

"Well, yeah," Sam conceded, "But, seriously, the Living Sex God is now si-"

"You let your age slow you down?" chuckled Andrew. "I know I don't. You and Kelly do nothing but hold hands these days?" Sam let out a squawk, and stared at him. "Didn't sound like it to me, last night…"

"What the hell were you doin' listening?" demanded Sam, coming perilously close to pulling a Bitchface™ at Andrew, "Your room is at the other end of the corridor! Have you seriously got nothing better to do than roam the halls after dark, listening at people's doors?"

"Nope," grinned Andrew. "Werewolf hearing, dude. The eyesight might be going, but the nose and the ears are working just fine. And seriously, you stank of it this morning, like an Alpha in mating season…"

"Gaaaaah!" yelped Sam. "What's gotten into you? You're… you're…"

"Family, as of tomorrow," Andrew smiled serenely. "Can't live with 'em…"

"Can spike their beer with silver nitrate," growled Sam, heading for the kegs. "Ronnie? Ronnie! Do something! I think your pair-bond has contracted an acute case of Dean!"

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After lunch, Dean was headed back to his room when he bumped into Ronnie, who wrinkled her nose at him.

"You are disgusting," she hissed, "You stink of sex!"

"Well, I had to work up an appetite," Dean announced airily, "And I can't think of a better way to do that than with a beautiful woman, and beautiful natural acts…"

"You might've had a shower afterwards," grumbled Ronnie.

"We did," protested Dean.

"Well, you might've stayed under the water for a bit longer after you finished rutting!" Ronnie shot back. "With a goddess, no less!"

"Huh, and who are you to talk?" sniffed Dean disdainfully, "When you've been trailin' around with two gods, count 'em, two, with your tongue hangin' out like you were a puppy trailin' after the butcher's truck…"

"I've been entertaining members of RJ's family!" snarled Ronnie, "They are both respectable and interesting men, and I have had some very stimulating conversations with both of them!"

"Well, don't get your panties in a bunch just because I've been gettin' stimulated with his family too," Dean shot back, "And not in some three-way extramarital fling, either."

"Not that sort of stimulation, you idiot!" she growled, "I was in fact talking to Heph about…"

"Oh, he's 'Heph' now, is he?" smiled Dean coldly, "Does he call you 'Ronron'? Or just 'good matron'?"

"We were talking," Ronnie emphasised the word, "About some ideas he's had to deal with electronic coupling…"

"Aha, so you're planning to get stimulated with him over the internet!" Dean inferred triumphantly. "Do they have wifi in Olympus?"

"I said, electronic coupling!" Ronnie's tone was icy. "It refers to the transfer of energy from one medium to… no, forget it, you've got such a one track mind, there's no point trying to explain it to you."

"And does Andrew know about the stimulation you've been getting?" asked Dean snidely.

"Of course," Ronnie's smile turned vicious, "He was right there, talking to Ares. Swapping war stories, of course. Then talking to Aphrodite. Well, when I say 'talking', he was mostly staring at his hands and mumbling, but I think he was getting actual words out by the time I left. So apparently, you're not as uniquely fascinating as you think," she added nastily. "After all, even the Living Sex God has to run out of steam eventually, you're not getting any younger…"

"Don't say it," growled Dean dangerously.

"You've beaten the odds for a Hunter, but Father Time is still stalking you…"

"Don't say it," Dean's tone would've warned off anybody else.

"…And just once, just this once, it might be nice if you could act your age…"

"Don't say it!"

"…And recognise that you are no longer a horny twentysomething screwing his way back and forth across the country…"

"Don't say it!"

"For fuck's sake, Winchester, act your age, you're si-"

"AAAAAAAAARGH!"

Dean yodelled in outrage at Ronnie as her fangs descended.

"Bitch!"

"Mongrel!"

They were so intent on each other that, if they hadn't been Hunters of such long standing, they might not have noticed the sudden drop in the temperature around them…

It was Dean who got just a momentary glimpse of the woman in a floral dress glaring at them, then he grabbed Ronnie and pushed her to the floor a split second before the heavy decorative urn shot through the air at high speed.


Well, that escalated quickly. What the hell is Jackie-Joy up to? Send reviews to feed to the little wretch, and we'll see if we can find out!