**Supernatural does not belong to me, nor do any of it's characters** So before I forget I have an author's note that is completely pointless except to express to you two things 1. A guest review asked about the other project I'd mentioned a while back, it's not a fanfic but what's becoming a novel at this point, if it ever turns into anything I'll let you all know what it's called. and B. I do in fact know the monstrous wolf in Norse mythology is Fenrir not Fenris, it's a common misconception that apparently the Supernatural writers fell into during season 9, or perhaps they had their own reasons for using the s instead of the r, but since I'm basing this story on the first 11 seasons of cannon I'm using the name Fenris, not Fenrir- again, pointless, just had to get that out.
Okay, who's bored? Cuz I've got some more plot pushing info here for you and a small surprise at the end... Enjoy.
Morgan stayed in her room a little while, collecting herself and letting the initial burn in her bottom subside into a throbbing soreness as she poured through the familiar spell books she'd hidden in the bottom dresser drawers. She'd laid on her stomach and coaxed them to her bed by simply crooking a finger, her puffy eyes smiling a bit at the simple action she'd missed being able perform. A rapid knocking on her door stole her attention from the books and Morgan threw a blanket over her underwear covered behind just as Claire slipped in the room.
"Are you okay?" her friend asked sympathetically.
"Yeah," Morgan shrugged, "sore."
"He's such a-"
"Claire," she said firmly, carefully moving to a sitting position, "I screwed up, it's over, please just drop it."
"Whatever," the blonde tossed her hair, "Are you comin' out or y'gotta stay in here?"
"Yeah, I'll come out," Morgan nodded, sliding off her bed tenderly and grabbing her sweatpants from the top of her dresser, mindful to keep her bottom turned away from her friend as she slipped them on, "Hey, uh, I gotta tell y'somethin', or, uh, did Sam 'r Dean tell you already?"
"They haven't told me shit," Claire tossed her hands up in frustration, "What happened?"
"A lot," Morgan scoffed lightly, "but, uh, so this witch who wanted t'meet me, well, uh, she wanted t'do more than meet me."
"Okay, Yoda, get to the point," her friend crossed her arms and leaned to one side in boredom.
Morgan smirked and snapped two fingers together, a purple ember igniting between them, the flame growing as she opened her hand. Claire's eyes widened and her jaw fell slack, choking on a breath.
"What? How? Morgan, this is amazing!" she exclaimed, jumping a little in excitement.
Morgan excitedly recanted their trip to the Waldorf Astoria, including the saleswoman who though Sam and Dean were her dads, which Claire found immensely amusing. She insisted on seeing the bok Gungnir and Odin's own spell and symbol made of his blood, tracing the red markings with her finger, absolutely mesmerized.
"So she just died, like right after?" Claire finally broke her trance and looked at her friend.
Morgan nodded sadly, "Crowley said something about her magic being the only thing keeping her alive that long."
"You saw Crowley again?" Claire inclined her head.
"Yeah," Morgan scoffed, "he dropped in after, well, a lot happened, I'll let Sam 'n Dean tell you the rest, it's, uh, well they know more about what happened anyway."
"A'right, can we go out there 'n get them talkin' then?" Claire handed the bok Gungnir back to Morgan after closing it carefully.
"Yeah, uh," she glanced warily at Claire, "Do I look like I've been bawlin'?"
"Naw, y'r'good," her friend assured her with a small grin.
They walked together into the library, Sam and Bryan were standing at a table, bent over a large map, both turned as the girls trudged up the stairs.
"Hey," Bryan grinned at Morgan, but the flicker of his gaze and subdued tone told her he knew why she was walking stiffly and felt heat rise to her cheeks.
"Hey, kiddo," Sam's small smile was encouraging.
"I was just tellin' y'r'brother about what Claire 'n I've been doin'," Bryan gestured to the map on the table.
Sam gave a conceding smirk and head nod, "It's good work."
Morgan smiled at the proud look on Bryan's face, noticing Claire looked equally gratified by Sam's assessment. Dean's heavy footsteps echoed in the large space just moments before he emerged from the hallway, jogging up the stairs to join them.
"A'right," the oldest Winchester landed hard on the floor of the library, "What're Nancy Drew 'n Encyclopedia Brown so excited about?"
"Might be surprised," Sam mumbled, moving from the table so Dean could approach the map.
"So, they hit the West coast first," Bryan moved his finger along part of the map, "all the way to the mountains, right?" Dean gave a short nod and the young man continued, "Then they flushed the East coast, all of Florida, but now they've gone North again and have started moving South through the Mid-West from the information you've gotten lately," Dean gave Claire a quick sideways glare before returning his attention to Bryan's explanation, "They're sweeping the edges first so it's harder to run and I'd bet my life their meeting point is gonna be near New Orleans."
"How d'ya figure that?" Dean challenged.
"Because the Alpha Vampire lives there," the young man said simply.
"What?" Dean scoffed harshly, "How'd'ya know that? Better yet, explain how Sam 'n I met him in North Dakota a few years ago."
"I'm sure he's got a few places all over," Bryan reasoned, "but he prefers New Orleans, 'n I know 'cause my Granpa told me."
It was quiet for a moment after his proclamation, Dean looked to his brother who shrugged with a smirk.
"The pattern makes sense," Sam told him.
"Okay," Dean shook his head, "but if Daniel had the colt, why didn't he just kill the Alpha?"
"They tried," Bryan's tone was hard and low, "it was the last hunt my Dad 'n him ever went on together, I don't know exactly what happened, he didn't tell me much, I was really young, but it wasn't successful, one'a my Dad's buddy died 'n he never spoke to my Granpa again. But before they left, my Granpa told me about the Alpha, said he couldn't resist the sin of New Orleans 'n always found his way back there, 'n he showed me the Colt, been in my family since eighteen-sixty-one, nearly killed my Dad when he found out Granpa died 'n couldn't find it, figured the vamps who got him stole it."
"They did," Dean nodded, reaching inside his jacket and pulling out the antique pistol, "changed a few hands since then though."
Bryan's eyes could not have gotten larger as he stared in awe at the gun in Dean's hand, his face paled and he leaned against the table when his knees were too weak to support his weight.
"How did you?" was all the young man could manage to force passed his lips.
"Had help," Dean's comment made Morgan's freshly punished backside throb again.
"Can I?" Bryan pointed a nervous finger at the pistol and Dean instinctually held it closer a moment, but with a conceding look at the young man he set it in his hands, the corner of his mouth tugging up a bit at Bryan's amazed look as he carefully examined the Colt, a barely audible whisper escaped his lips, "Hey, beautiful."
"Hey, Bryan," Sam dragged the young man's attention from the pistol and nodded at his shirt, "y'r'bleedin' again, man."
"Yeah," he glanced down at the spot of blood growing on the side of his t-shirt and grudgingly handed Dean the Colt back, "this one's bein' a bitch, won't stay stitched."
"You not restin' couldn't have anything t'do with that," Dean remarked, slipping the gun in his jacket again.
"I'm fine," Bryan shrugged and smirked at Claire, "Last time? I swear."
"Yeah," Claire jerked her head towards the stairs, but stopped after her first step and turned to Morgan, "Wait, why don't you just do it?"
Morgan had widened her eyes at her friend, silently urging her to shut up, but it was too late and Claire had already made the suggestion, Bryan's confused expression was alone in the room.
"Do what?" he asked, looking at Morgan.
"Crap," Claire muttered and grimaced at the young witch, "he doesn't know."
"He didn't," she agreed quietly and took a deep breath, setting her eyes on the handsome young man staring at her with a furrowed brow.
"Didn't know what?" Bryan asked again.
"I'm a witch," Morgan admitted, feeling the weight lift from her chest, but braced herself for the response.
"You were a witch," his eyes narrowed, still trying to understand.
"I got my powers back," her hands were shaking a bit at her sides, but forced the words out, "or new ones, either way."
It was silent for several moments as Bryan's expression went from confusion to surprise and finally found a neutral position before he nodded, "Okay."
"Okay?" the Winchesters asked together with a tone of anticipation.
"Okay, can y'help me out here then?" he grinned a little at Morgan, his smile widened when she brightened at his words.
"Happy to," her cheeks hurt from the huge smile that wouldn't waiver in her elation, glancing at her brothers, she was met with two approving head nods.
"Have a seat kid," Sam gestured to the arm chair and gave Morgan an encouraging wink.
Bryan slowly lifted his shirt, showing a firm torso riddled in stitched gashes, the longest on his side was trickling blood from the middle, scoffing at the damage with dark humor, "Might be easier if I don't."
"Need anything, Morgan?" Dean asked.
"Naw, I know it," she assured him, having performed the spell several times on Castiel the day before.
"Have at it," Bryan gave her a nervous grin, slipping his shirt off his head, Morgan heard Dean make a strange sound in the back of his throat, but turned her attention to the bleeding cut running down the young man's ribs.
She tried to give him a reassuring smile, stepping closer and placing her hand so close to the cut she could feel the heat of his skin, then closed her eyes and let the words fall out like a familiar song she'd finally gotten to hear again, "Suo in cute sana ex vulnere."
Bryan's face briefly scrunched in the anticipation of pain, but relaxed and he looked down as she moved her hand from the unblemished skin, running his fingers over the area that had just been mangled in blood and amateur stitches.
"Holy," he exclaimed in shock, still rubbing his side, "that's, that's incredible! Any chance, you could, uh," she nodded happily, extending her hand to the next stitched cut and repeating the process until his chest and stomach were as flawless as they always had been, a few times she let her fingers linger on his warm skin when Sam and Dean were distracted in conversation.
"Good as new," Claire punched Bryan gently in the arm.
"Thanks," he stared at Morgan and she wanted nothing more in that moment than for him to kiss her, unfortunately her brothers were still part of the audience.
"Great," Dean scoffed lightly, "Go put a shirt on Hercules."
Bryan chuckled and nodded at him, descending the stairs at a near jog, clearly pain free as he made his way out of the room. Morgan watched his back muscles as he rolled his shoulders and sighed, feeling a jab in her side, however she jerked her head at Claire, seeing both brothers staring at her, Sam with a little amusement, Dean with absolutely none.
"So, uh, big break in the vampire case, huh?" she turned to her friend for help in the awkward moment.
"Oh, no," Claire shook her head adamantly, "it's y'r'guy's turn t'talk. Where was Castiel? How'd you get him back from these super demons? What the hell is this gun Bryan nearly just had a heart-attack over? Just, just, what happened?"
"Well I'm gonna need a drink," Dean chuckled.
"Me too," Sam agreed, turning towards the stairs, but stopping and smirking at his sister before taking the two cold beers from mid-air, the caps popping off with a soft hiss and deposited themselves in the trash bin, "Okay, I may've missed that a little."
Dean flipped a chair around, straddling it as he began telling Claire about their trip to Chicago. The blonde patiently listened as he began with Sophie at the Waldorf, but Morgan saw her sit straighter when he got to the warehouse. She too, listened with intent as he described going around the back after determining the Princes were fighting each other closer to the front of the building. The plan was to sneak Castiel out, if they could, which is why Sam had hung back, in case they needed a sneak attack, which was unfortunately foiled by Ramiel finding the tallest Winchester behind the support beam and dragging him into the standstill.
"Turns out we had a real surprise, though," Dean turned to Morgan with a smirk, "Flew the gun from that douchebag's hand while he's tryin' t'channel Jesse James, didn't even see it comin' 'n bam! Right between the eyes."
"No way!" Claire exclaimed to the young witch, "Morgan, that's incredible!"
"Sure sound proud'a me f'r'a guy who just busted my ass f'r'that little move," she scoffed lightly.
"Oh, you know why you got y'r'ass busted," Dean shook his head with a laugh, pointing his beer at Claire, "Don't start, y'don't know."
"Wasn't plannin' on it," the blonde scoffed, "I don't need y'bustin' my ass."
"Look at you learnin'," Dean smiled and sipped his beer as Claire rolled her eyes at him, but couldn't help a small grin.
"So you killed Ramiel," Claire confirmed, bringing the conversation back to the point, "Asmodeous took off? Do we think he's gonna rejoin Dagon?"
"Shockingly," Sam began, "that's not our biggest concern, Dagon's already got plenty'a help."
"What'd'ya mean?" Claire looked at Sam and then Dean and finally Morgan.
"Have you ever heard of Ragnarok?" Dean asked.
"The Norse Mythology apocalypse?" she inclined her head as the brother's nodded, Morgan was surprised Claire was immediately familiar, but remembered her friend had immersed herself in lore, mythology and hunting for the last few years.
"There are a few groups of werewolves that worship Fenris," Dean explained, "the wolf-god thing-"
"Not a god, but go on," Claire nodded.
"Whatever, he was," Dean waved his beer with disinterest, "these werewolves call themselves the Maw of Fenris, 'n their whole goal is human annihilation, a world full'a monsters, purgatory on earth."
"Werewolves are more concerning than a Prince of Hell?" Claire shook her head at them, "How?"
"Because they're organized," Dean narrowed his eyes, "Their leader, Phelan, says he's a descendant of Fenris, from the secondhand threats we've bein' hearin' he's made, one of the final steps to initiating Ragnarok is Fenris devouring the god Odin."
"Okay," Claire was sitting on the edge of her chair, "but I'm guessing they're already dead."
"Odin is," Sam confirmed and Morgan inclined her head at him, "Lucifer."
"Of course," she rolled her eyes.
"So, who's this Phelan punk plannin' on eatin' then?" Claire asked and followed Sam and Dean's gazes to her friend leaning against the table next to her, "Oh, shit."
"Yeah," the Winchesters agreed together.
Dean's ringing phone broke the silence that followed and he jumped from his seat to pull the device from his pocket, swiping the screen before he held it to his ear, "Hey, Garth. – Huh, yeah I guess it is. – Maybe, I don't know, wasn't around during construction. Are y'on y'r'way 'r what? – Okaaay? What'd'ya – Garth, that's great man! I didn't know that! – Yeah, we've all been a little busy. So y'r'all comin'? – No, no, that's fine, I understand, no worries. – We'll see ya."
"What's goin' on with Garth?" Sam asked when Dean shoved his phone back in his pocket.
"Bess's cousins are definitely involved with Phelan," Dean confirmed, "they're using the join or die recruiting plan to gain followers, Garth, Bess 'n Channing are on their way here."
"Channing?" Sam inclined his head.
"Their son," Dean's grin looked a little proud, "just turned two Garth said."
"Wow," Sam's eyebrows raised in surprise.
"Yeah," Dean nodded.
"Who's Garth?" Claire interjected.
"He's an old hunting buddy," Sam told her, "got turned by a wolf a few years ago, but he manages, truthfully, if anybody could it's Garth."
"Right?" Dean scoffed lightly, "Zen Master Marmaduke."
"A werewolf is coming here?" Claire stared at both brothers.
"And his werewolf wife 'n I'm assuming the kid may've picked up the trait," Dean's tone was full of amusement at Claire's shocked expression.
"Seriously, guys?" she urged, glancing at Morgan, who simply shrugged.
"Actually, we should prob'ly warn you about one thing," Sam smirked at Dean and they both chuckled.
"What?" Claire sounded nervous.
"He's a hugger," Dean grinned.
Morgan left Claire, Bryan and Sam alone in the library a while later, making her way to the bathroom a little slowly, her bottom still pulsing with dull pain. Dean had abandoned the group about half an hour earlier to make them a late dinner, but when she passed the kitchen he wasn't there, nor did any food seem to be being prepared. His bedroom door was shut and, just before her knuckles hit the wood, a soft, but very distinctive moan reached her ears.
"Holyyy shhhhhhhit," yep, that was definitely the woman who, until recently, had been her chemistry teacher, "Mmmmmm," followed by what sounded like a happy yelp, "Yesssss."
Morgan had retracted her fist the moment she heard the first pleasurable groan, her eyes wide at the Men of Letters symbol on his door, wanting to rush down the hallway, but her feet were stuck to the floor.
"Oh, you liked that, huh?" her brother's deep voice broke her trance and Jenny's squealing giggle faded as Morgan silently bolted down the hall to the library.
Well that happened...
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