Winchester's Winter

Winchester’s Winter

Flora_Winters

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural and I’m not making any money here either.

Summary: Two very handsome brothers face off with faeries, goblins, and the haunting affections of a spooky, yet alluring young man. They had thought ghosts, demons, werewolves, and vampires were naughty little spooks that go hump in the night. Now, a pissed off Goddess wants to punish an entire town for daring to desecrate one of her favorite groves in order to put up a Wal-Mart. Will all the apples at the Farmer’s Market cause everyone to pull a Snow White? There is a reason why it is called the Old Religion. Heads will roll and the blood will flow. Language, MM, OC, Violence, WIP

Prologue

Fire and water, earth and sky
Mysteries surrounds us, legends never die
They live for the moment, lost in time, I can hear them call
They’re locked within the crystal ball

--Blackmore’s Night (Locked Within the Crystal Ball)

The young man’s name was Winter and he looked and acted anything but. His skin color was the exact shade of a tree’s smooth, brown trunk and his eyes were greener than Alban Eiler grass. His curly hair was shoulder length and the brilliant color of Beltane sunshine.

He was kind of short for his years and his body was wispier than a tree nymph’s. He had a pixie’s face, with elfin eyes that hinted of a mischievous and rather frightening intelligence. Girls thought him too pretty and all the real boys just didn’t like him and that was all right with him. People sucked. In fact, people sucked a whole lot. He often prayed that they would all choke when they swallowed.

His new world was amidst fragrant apple blossoms, sweet smelling honeysuckle, aromatic night-blooming jasmine, and rain-drawing hydrangeas. His house was surrounded by what many would soon call a witch’s garden. His mom was a goddess in her own right and she was the handmaiden to an even more ancient, even more powerful Goddess. Her name was older than air, earth, and sea. His mother’s name, she had been called Cerridwen back in the day.

“Winter,” his mother called to him from the sitting room. “You have another box in here!”

He put his last book down on the tall, wooden bookshelf. It was the one of many on druids and the primordial practice of human and animal sacrifice. Ah, how he missed the good old days when men and women lined up to have their throats slit upon the stone altars.

He walked by a tall and imposing statue of Anubis and petted the Jackal God of Death on top of his fierce head. The sitting room looked like a temple parlor that would make any whore in the timeless temples of Babylon take a second and third look with awe on their painted faces.

It was his box all right. It was the one he had filled with all his comics, anime, and manga. He would devour whole worlds if he had somehow lost it. The box contained a faerie prince’s ransom.

His mother was dressed like some priestess that had gotten lost and turned about in the mists which forever hid Avalon from this decaying world. She had the appearance of a very beautiful woman of thirty-five. She was fair skinned and raven haired. She wore a henna crescent moon on her smooth brow. The woman was terrified of needles, so a tattoo was out of the question, but when a ritual called for blood, she could slice open a finger with a blade without flinching. She was an odd one, but he loved her anyway.

“I’m going to bless the house,” she told him, pulling out a bundle of sage as if from thin air. “The last thing we need is for those fools to find us again.”

She softly begun to blow on the end of the bundle and it began to smoke and glow red. He loved the smell of sage. It was so strong and purifying. Naughty spirits and negative entities couldn’t stand the powerful herb.

His mother began to chant in the old tongue. Her voice was like a flute dancing across silver harp strings. It was beautiful and musical.

The pale blue smoke floated through the air, taking the shapes of dancing sprites. They fluttered and flew to all corners of the house. A soft jingle of golden bells filled his ears, making him and his mother smile.

“I am Cerridwen,” his mother spoke in English for his benefit. “I am the blessed Keeper and divine Mistress of the Cauldron. None shall enter this house unless invited by blood and blood alone.”

His mother poked the tip of her index finger with her ancient dagger, smearing her blood upon the lips of the primordial Goddess in which she had been born from. Jeweled eyes opened and the scent of a thousand moonflowers filled the room. He could no longer smell the sage at all.

The Goddess was here now and in this very place. His mother fell to her knees before her own mother. The statue suddenly looked too big for the room. It looked too big for the house.

My children, a melodious voice cooed. It was like the kiss of rain upon parched lips.

The sapphire eyes closed and the statue was a statue once more. His mother was practically glowing as she got to her feet. She looked just like one of her old photos. She looked ten years younger. Her skin glowed with youthful vitality and her dark hair was lustrous.

He lowered his head to the Goddess and smiled. His life was filled with such wonders. He pitied all the closed and narrow minded fools of the world. They would never know such bliss as he and his family did. Like King Arthur’s Camelot, the human world was slowly falling into ruin, too. Greed for wealth, jealousy of other’s power, and the fear of change was stunting and killing everything.

But, he cared not for fools and follies. If need be, he would simply part the morning mists in the garden one day and step between the worlds. The Morrigan and her legions of crows would feast upon the corpses and the ruins of people until a new cycle began again.

The doorbell suddenly rang and snapped out of his thoughts. His mom was too high right now and it was un-telling what his aunt was doing in her bedroom. So, he quickly went to answer the door for the second time that day.

“If it’s those goddamn Jehova Witnesses again!” His aunt, his mom’s twin sister shouted from down the long hallway. “Let Lyrin eat them this time, Snowflake!”

Lyrin was a phouka. A phouka was a water horse. He lived in the pond, which was located in the backyard. He simply adored the taste of human flesh.

He opened the door, seeing two men in black suits and dark sunglasses. One was just slightly taller and leaner than the other. “Hello.” He said, smiling disarmingly. Why were the Men in Black here? Did a UFO fly over?

“Hi, I’m Dean…Widow,” the shorter one said. “And this is my partner, Sam…Spinster.” They both towered over him.

“Okay,” Winter blinked. “Yeah?”

Apparently this poor young man has never been wed and this other unfortunate soul must have lost his wife to something tragic. Now they were both gay for each other. Aw…

“We’re both officers,” the one called Sam said, holding up a shiny badge. He must really polish it a lot. “And we were both chasing after a dangerous suspect, but we lost him near here. We think he lives on this block. Is your mom or dad in? Perhaps you might know him.”

There was a sudden, loud scream and a bloody splash from around the house. Both men took off running around the corner.

Winter just stood there, doing his best to keep from snorting. Lyrin didn’t like bad people. He has been in the family for years and years and years and years…

“What the bloody hell is going on out there?” Aunt Moganna yelled. “You know I was joking right? Or did that damn demon horse eat another nosy neighbor?”

His mother tittered. “Ah, Mo, you shouldn’t speak so vulgarly.” She looked at him. “I’ll get the troll dust. We can’t have cops thinking we have a shark or something in the swimming pond.”

Winter would have laughed, but quickly chased after the cops. They were both studs. He would have to keep the horsy from eating them, too. Apparently the flesh of handsome men just tasted better, or so the faerie horse bragged.

“Someone get me out of here!” A loud voice shrieked bloody murder. “I can’t swim and something has hold of my ankle!”

Winter could hear Lyrin chuckle in his mind.

Just a little nibble, Frosty?

He told him a very stern no.

You bitches starve me, he whined.

You just ate!

Yeah, but that was four hours ago.

Winter sighed.

I will feed you again later and take you for a walk.

You promise?

Have I ever lied to you?

Well…there was that one time.

Oh, do shut up! You had it coming and you know it!

The horse laughed.

“Hey!” Winter yelled, coming upon Widow and Spinster standing near the edge of the pond. “Get that idiot out of there before he pollutes the delicate ecosystem! Do you know how expensive those fish are?”

Widow turned around, taking off his glasses. Winter was automatically in lust. The smell of spring filled his delicate nostrils.

“Can’t we just let him drown?” He smiled, looking so boyish and adorable.

“Dean,” Spinster snarled. “Get him out.”

“Yes!” The flailing fool yelled, making lots of noise and bubbles with his mouth. “Get me the fuck out of here! Who the fuck puts a pond on the other side of a fence?”

Winter just looked at the guy. Was he for real? He looked at Spinster. “Does he really want me to answer that?”

He smiled, too.

“Oh, goodness gracious,” a woman’s voice came from behind. He turned to see his mom walk out onto the back patio. She was now dressed like some Arabian djinn. “And here I thought this was going to be such a peaceful neighborhood.”

“We have this, Ma’am,” Spinster called over his shoulder.

Winter lowered his head and gave a slow shake. He just didn’t call his mother the “M” word.

“Ma’am?” His mom asked, gliding down the stone steps with the wind flowing through her raven locks. “Do I look so old, young man?”

“Will you hold still?” Dead yelled from the pool. “If you don’t, I’ll let your sorry ass drown.”

Oh, Winter liked him. He liked him a lot. He was not only handsome, he was brutal.

“I’m sorry for the mistake, Miss,” Spinster quickly said. “Are you this young man’s sister by chance? Is your mother home?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “She’s out…buying apples for the pie we’re having tonight.”

Winter rolled his eyes. She was so not flirting with one of his two future husbands.

“Get that piece of dog shit out of my pond!” A loud voice shrieked like a wailing banshee. “Who the hell are you people and why the hell are you here?” Auntie Mo stormed off the wooden deck as if from a castle window, black robe and white hair billowing like wings. “And why are you two humoring all this bullshit?”

“Calm down, Mother,” Winter’s mother snickered. “Can’t you see that these two handsome men are capturing a wanted man?”

Aunt Moganna blinked, putting both hands on her hips. “Excuse me, Morgan?”

“Wow,” Spinster said. “It’s like looking in a mirror.”

“Tell me about it,” Winter deadpanned.

“Come on!” Dean yelled, dragging the guy to the edge of the pond, giving him a good kick in the ribs as he climbed to his feet. “I’ll pop your ass full of lead if you so much as even look like you’re about to run again.”

“Would you two care to tell us why you were chasing this man?” Morgan asked.

Winter jumped back when his aunt dosed them all with troll dust. All three men fell to the ground as if dead.

“Who gives a shit?” She said. “Just send them away.”

His mother suddenly pouted and then hissed. “You could have at least waited until I got one of their phone numbers.”

“Um, no,” Winter said, kneeling down beside Dean. He looked so cute when asleep. “I want them.”

Both women just looked down at him. “You want them?” They asked in unison. It was a twin thing.

He suddenly blushed and pointed at the pool. “I blame Lyrin. He made me homo!”

There was a sudden splash and the head of a handsome and magnificent white horse broke the surface. “Don’t you dare blame your gayness on me, you little whelp. If anybody made you gay, blame that fairy your mama boned.” His coat was white as snow and his flowing mane was shimmering like mother of pearl.

“He was a fairy, huh?” The goddess snorted.

“I want the cops,” Winter told them. “You can eat the other guy, Lyrin.”

The water horse glided like a fish through the water. “He’s skinny and has too many clothes on.”

“You’re just picky,” Moganna snapped. “And a lazy ass at that.”

“Shrew,” Lyrin hissed, showing rows of razor sharp fangs.

“Okay,” Winter said, bringing their attentions back to him. “I will spirit these three back to wherever it is they’re staying.”

“Okay,” his mom said. “And I’ll go bake us that nice apple pie.”

“I used to eat newborn babies every full moon,” Lyrin whined. “You bitches are starving me.”

“Hey,” Winter smirked. “I offered.” He pointed at the criminal.

“I have standards!” Lyrin snapped. “And you had better keep your promise, Frosty!” The horse dove with a large splash.

Winter concentrated on all three men and then he closed his eyes. When he opened them, he was in what appeared to be a hotel room. The beds were unmade, dirty clothes were on the floor, and the room smelled of stale coffee.

“Okay,” he said, nodding his head, looking at the three guys on the floor. “I guess you’re both not gay after all.”

His smirk could have frozen mercury and melted Pluto. He pointed at the unconscious convict and the fool was bound in rope and gagged with one of the two cop’s dirty underwear. He tossed both men onto the twin bed not by the covered window, loomed over their sleeping forms, and cocked his head to the side like a serpent getting ready to strike with aphrodisiac fangs. He entered both their sleeping minds and began to play a little game of seduction.

He quickly replaced the big breasted twins in Dean’s hot tub and the dark headed tutor in Sam’s classroom with a stunning vision of himself. He giggled as both men whimpered under his wicked fingers. Their desire for him was body temperature and creamy. It was too bad it was only in their dream worlds. If they had been awake, he would have made them both scream his name until they died from multiple orgasms.

He vanished the moment they both came awake. They looked about their room, pushed away from each other, saw the guy they had been chasing all tied up and wiggling about, and they scratched their heads in confusion. Both of them.

Winter liked the taste of Dean Winchester better. He wanted to fill a yummy doughnut with the mortal’s tasty cream and bite down.

His mommy and auntie both just looked at him and shook their heads. He wasn’t allowed to watch HBO anymore.

“That shit has corrupted your mind,” Aunt Mo said over high tea. They were both on the roof. She inched closer, looking this way and that. “So,” she whispered. “Which one was bigger?”

Winter snickered, shook his head, and hopped down. She cursed after him, and he blew her a kiss. He had a horsy to feed and play with.

To Be Continued…

R&R!