Robert E. Howard was the author behind Conan the Barbarian and wrote several short stories and novellas for magazines such as Weird Tales.  The Solomon Kane stories were written between 1929 to 1931 and they often took place in Africa. Now, Howard’s portrayal of the African people Kane meets is, frankly, racist. They are often described as unintelligent savage brutes. It’s horrible and I suspect Howard never sat foot in Africa himself.

But aside from Howard’s narrow-minded view of the African people the stories does have some quality to it, though it is hard to pinpoint what it is. They often lack an overall plot but Howard’s strength  is his language – the way he describes the landscape Solomon Kane traverses… It’s quite beautifully written.

Not surprising Solomon Kane has been turned into a movie, with the amazing James Purfoy as Kane. And man, he brings the character to life! The movie has the same eerie quality and beauty that the stories have and it gives a more indeepth look at Kane and his past. I adore it :) It made  me re-read the old  Solomon Kane stories and it has inspired me to try and write one myself.

If you haven’t seen the Solomon Kane movie then DO IT!!! :)

Blessings & Moonpies!

Alice In Wonderland by Lewis Carroll was, and still is, one of my absolute favorite books.  And a great source of inspiration. There is an almost mystical dark air in the book that keeps facinating both artist and writers. If you haven’t yet read Alice In Wonderland DO IT! :) 

The art is based on concept images from the game Alice – Madness Returns.

Set after the end of Season 2. Dean and Sam goes after a creature that kills and feeds on young women. But, as Sam discovers, things get a bit more complicated than that when he finds himself attracted to one of the would be victims.

“The church?” Sam repeated.

“Yes… why?” she asked with curiosity.

“Oh nothing”, Sam breathed, giving her a warm smile. It always seemed weird things happened when churches came into the picture, he thought to himself.

He sifted onto the road wondering where Dean was as he put the little care through the paces. He didn’t like being separated long as of late… not since… He shook his head.

“What’s bothering you Sam?” Stormy asked. “You seem so preoccupied.”

He squeezed her hand with a smile. “Nothing really Stormy, just been a long night is all.” He sidestepped her question carefully, no way was he even going there.

It wasn’t long before the road began curving and a large building came into looming clarity.

“Is this it? This where you live?” He asked as he pulled into the deserted church drive. Something was beginning to buzz at the base of his skull and he felt something wasn’t quiet right.

“My uncle is the priest”, she said then laughed at his stunned face.

They got out of the car and looked up at the church. Sam seemed reluctant to move any closer to it.

“I thought you said you were catholic”, he said.

“I am”, Stormy said. “Most people around here are. Mansion was founded by Welsh immigrants at the beginning of the 19th century…” Her voice trailed off. They had reached the gates that lead into the graveyard that surrounded the church.

The tingling feeling that things were amiss grew stronger and Sam stopped, forcing Stormy to stop with him.

“What’s wrong”, she whispered. She could sense it too; a thickness in the air. The mist whirled around them.

“We should get back into the car”, Sam started to say but he never got to finish the sentence. In front of his eyes Stormy grew impossibly pale. She turned to him, her eyes large and frightened.

“Help…” she managed. “Can’t… breathe…” Her hand flew up to her throat and squeezed the dainty silver cross as if hoping God would save her. But God wasn’t there, only Sam Winchester.

“Stormy!” He caught her just as her eyes rolled back in the skull until only a sliver of the iris was seen. Lowering her gently to the ground he looked around wild eyed, but saw nothing.

The thickness in the air increased and took on an oiliness that made him gag.

“Get back!” He managed, showing his hand into his pocket, pulling out the Walter. The gun looked sinister in his hand. It was loaded with silver and salt.

At his feet Stormy’s body shook in convulsions.

Not knowing what else to do, Sam once again dug through the pocket of his jacket and retrieved his cell. He automatically clicked the speed dial.

Dean answered at once. “Sam where are you?”

“At the church”, Sam said. “Dean, I need-”

“Are you with Stormy?” Dean cut him off before he could finish the sentence.

“Yeah. She-”

“Get away from her right now, Sam! She’s the Fideal!”

This made Sam blink, but then he shook his head as if to clear it. “No, Dean, that’s not possible. She is wearing a silver cross. She needs help, Dean. Something is attacking her.”

“I’m on my way.”

Sam clicked him off, not bothering with goodbyes. The girl lay still now… so so very still.

“Stormy?” Sam kneeled by her said, hesitated then pressed his fingers against her throat trying to find a pulse. There was none. “No!” he almost screamed, frantically trying to make sure her airways were cleared.

Suddenly her eyes flew open, and there was nothing of the sweet girl in their tomoultus depths.

“Boy…” She whispered, and her voice was the swell of the sea. The she… itscreamed, hands flying up to tear at the cross and the silver chain. Through the screams the thing inside Stormy’s body hissed:”Tell my wretched sister that we are tied together with the same bond!”

Then Stormy’s body slumped back onto the ground. The thickness in the air disappeared and the mist stopped whirling.

Sam bent over the still body, trying to decide whether she lived or had died when all of a sudden she arched her back, sucking in air in deep gasping mouthfuls.

Sam jerked back, gun aimed at her, but when she tried to speak he lowered it and returned to her side. There was nothing of the Fideal in her voice now, nothing of it in the blue eyes that looked up at him filled with fear and confusion.

“S-sam…?”

“I’m here”, he said, cupping her cheeks with his hands. “Just try and breath slowly.”

“What… happened?” She managed. “I… it was as if I… died… I could see myself lying on the ground… What happened, Sam?”

“Ah hell, Stormy… I mean I don’t know how to say this…” Her wide eyes made him want to lie, but it would be wrong. He stroked her cheek gently trying to calm her.

“Uh, have you ever been able to see ghosts or talk to them… you know any of that stuff?” Sam asked candidly. “Those with a connection are easier fare for the spirit world”, he said gently.

He helped her sit up as she stared at him like he was crazy. “What are you getting at Sam?” Her voice going breathless again as she looked at him like she never seen him before, “I mean it was like I left my body… No! No!” She waved her hands for a frantic moment. “Something pushed me out…” Her hand flew to her mouth in utter disbelief.
“What was it Sam? Why do I believe you know what it was? You even started up before it…” She looked shocked, pulling away from Sam.

“No, Stormy… No it wasn’t me”, Sam started softly, lamely as she managed to scramble to her feet.

“My God, there is something wrong with you isn’t there?” She was getting hysterical as Sam stood slowly, moving towards her like one would a frightened animal.

“Stay away! Just stay away!” She screeched, clutching the tiny cross like it was some kind of a lifeline.

“Stormy, please… please…” Sam held out his hand. “It’s not me …” He trailed as she turned and fled towards the warm lights of a small house behind the church.

Sam ripped angry fingers through his hair, shaking his fists angrily in the air. “God damn it!” He hissed.

Turning he found himself looking at a breathless Dean.

“Don’t, Dean.” He rasped angrily. “Don’t tell me it wouldn’t have worked anyway… Don’t tell me I’ll get over it. Don’t…” He turned away from his brother to swipe angry tears form his face. Tears he did not want Dean to see. Did not think he understood.

“Sammy…” Dean said, following a few steps behind as his gangly little brother stalked away. “Talk to me, Sammy.”

But Sam only shook his head, refusing to even look at his brother. Dean quickened his steps, reached up and grabbed Sam by the collar of his jacket.

“Dammit, Sam!

Anger welled up inside of the youngest of the Winchester boys. Anger for the unfairness of his legacy, for his mother’s death and Jenny’s. For his father, who had chosen a life of vengeance. For the sheer panic in Stormy’s eyes when she thought he had been the one who attacked her.

He turned around, hands curled into fists and in blind rage he swung at his brother. And hit. The sensation of his fist connecting with flesh gave him an awful feeling of satisfaction.

Then a strong arm wrapped itself around his neck, quick sure feet kicked his legs away from under him and he ended up on the ground, unable to move, held down by Dean.

“That’s enough!” There was no mistaking the commanding tone in his brother’s voice. “Tell me what happened.”

“Oh, so now you want to talk…” Sam managed to drawl. Dean pushed the knee he held pressed down on Sam’s back a little harder and was rewarded with a groan of pain.

“Tell me what happened to the girl.”

Sam relaxed somewhat. “The Fideal attacked her. It pushed her spirit out of her body and tried to possess it… but it couldn’t stay because of the silver.”

“So…” Dean thought out loud. “Silver canharm it.” He released his grip on his brother and flipped nimbly to his feet. “Get up, Sammy. We have to go back to the motel and check out what dad wrote about this thing.”

Sam scrambled to his feet more slowly. “I have to go to her, Dean. I have to try to explain-”

“She wont listen to you.” Dean’s voice was soft and compassionate. “I’m sorry, Sammy.”

“Uncle!” Stormy screamed, tears streaming down her face as she ran down the hallway to his study.

Father Thomas stepped out, opened his arm to his niece as she flung herself towards him. “Stormy, my dear child! What’s happened?”

“Oh, it was awful!” She sobbed, burying her face at the crook of his neck, breathing in the calming and familiar smells of his aftershave, tobacco and coffee. “Someone… some thingattacked me! I couldn’t breath!”

“Oh, sweet heart”, Thomas said, cupping her face between his hands so that he could look her in the eyes. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

Stormy did so, slowly calming down. The tears subsided and she gazed up at her uncle, waiting for him to speak.

Finally he did, “I don’t think it was the boy who did this to you. Tell me, Stormy, and tell me the truth. Have you had any more dreams about the man with the yellow eyes?”

Stormy shook her head.

“Are you sure?” Father Thomas prompted.

The girl nodded. “I have had dreams… strange dreams, but not about him.”

“Okay, that’s good.” Thomas pressed a kiss on his niece’s forehead. “Wash up and get to straight into bed. I’m sure you will feel much better in the morning.”

Stormy nodded again and stepped out of her uncle’s embrace. She was halfway up the stairs when he called after her, “Don’t forget to say your prayers.”

“I won’t”, Stormy replied then continued up to the second floor.

Father Thomas returned to his study. He locked the door behind him.

Sam got into the tiny cars driver seat silently after Deans last remark. He stared straight ahead as Dean got in. His older brother looking at him grimly.

“Sammy_” Dean started

“Haven’t you ever loved anyone and just wanted to be with them without having it become complicated because of this life Dad forced us to live, Dean?” Sam asked the question with a painful longing all too familiar to Dean.

“Yeah sure, Sammy, but unlike you I didn’t have any choice… None.” Dean said quietly now staring out the window too.

“What the hell does that mean?” Sam ground out, turning greying eyes to his brother.

Dean slumped into the seat returning the look with steely green eyes of his own. “It means I got no timeout. It means I spent my growing years watching out for you… it means I didn’t have a life, only what Dad had me do every day, Sammy.” His words were soft yet hard as steal.

“I didn’t ask for our life, Dean.”

“Neither did I. But this is what it is and there’s no going back now.” Dean held his gaze.

Sam’s jaw clenched as they looked at each other. “You love this life and don’t deny it.”

“It’s all I know, Sammy …” he said more softly. “And now that dads gone it’s pay back time, so how about losing the tears and lets kick some ass?” His words felt like electric jolts to Sam’s senses as something dark and angry shone out of his brother’s eyes.

“Sure, Dean.” Sam’s voice went hoarse as he fired up the tiny motor driving back down the foggy road. They hadn’t gone far when a herd of bleating sheep flooded the deserted road.

Sam road the brake stopping before nailing one of the terrified critters. “What’s got them…” They exchanged glances killing the motor they pulled guns moving out and around the miniature stampede.

“You do realize these guns wont work on a poltergeist”, Sam breathed close to Dean’s side.

‘I got that covered”, Dean mumbled stopping Sam in his tracks as bleating white bodies shuffled past them.

“What are you not telling me, Dean?” Sam demanded already edgy and nerve raw as the sheep grew more anxious, milling across their path.

Father Thomas smiled as he lit the black candles laid forth over a small table.

He did the incantation bringing a hot fetid wind across the room, the candles flickering, the soft white hair at his brow ruffling.

“It is almost time”, he murmured lifting the Athame, calling the Demon that was his familiar.

“The virgin sacrifice is yours when ready, my lord.” He smiled as the wind settled and a familiar presence filled the room.

He felt pain, sudden pain as he was struck to the floor.

“She is a virgin no more, you have failed me in this“, a deep terrible voice filled his head to aching.

“That can’t be!” Thomas spat falling to bended knee. “How could she have… who?”

“Her life is still of value. She is still one of the chosen and one of the others is near, so very near. Things have changed and this is what you will do…”

Set after the end of Season 2. Dean and Sam goes after a creature that kills and feeds on young women. But, as Sam discovers, things get a bit more complicated than that when he finds himself attracted to one of the would be victims.

Dean stood in the shower, eyes closed, smiling. Even through the sound of the water running he could hear the gasps and the moans and the giggles. It were good sounds. After everything Sam had been through… it was the best sounds he had heard in a long time.

“Lucky bastard”, Dean mumbled still smiling.

But as the minutes dragged on he grew impatient. Did Sam really think he was going to spend the entire night in the ugly bathroom while he enjoyed himself in bed?

Enough was enough, Dean decided. Besides he was starting to get wrinkle-toes and wrinkle-fingers. He turned the shower off, making as much noise as he could stepping out of it and wrapping a towel around the waist. He cleared his throat loudly, counted to three, hoping the kids would at least have the sense to crawl under the covers, or something.

Then he opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom.

“Stormy…” Sam breathed heatedly against her throat. Gasping when she went all bold clenching the hardness bulging at his crotch, pleased at the harsh moan catching in Sam’s throat. “Maybe we better slow down”, He gasped. Already both her breasts were revealed in all their pink tipped glory. Half dressed they swarmed over the bed. Nibbling tickling growing more brazen as fingers became bolder across warming flesh.

“Oh Sam… It never felt this right when boys tried to touch me before… I just couldn’t let them… but you…” Stormy whispered, her eyes as wild as her name. Sam was over her, gazing down at her flashing storm eyes, her lips pinked and swollen from their bruising kisses. “It just feels right…” She whispered huskily slipping the velvet dress over her head to toss to the floor.

“Oh god, Stormy”, he whispered as she pushed her fingers into the wealth of his falling curls dragging his face, his body onto hers. Her fingers undid his pants, her toes tugging down the pant legs freeing him into those curious trembling fingers.

Her eyes going wide she gasped as her fingers felt the hard long length of him.

“We can stop”, Sam managed to whisper, his control on the edge.

“No..no” She moaned as her fingers explored him. “I’m tired of waiting… tired of not knowing… and it’s with you Sam…” She held him all too close to her inner thigh and he felt the heat there so close… so tantalising close…

“Stormy”, he whispered again, taking her mouth as her thighs opened allowing him entrance. He took her suddenly, one hard smooth stroke and she screamed in pain filled pleasure just as Dean came into the room.

“Ahhh shit! Sorry!” Dean yelped. His fingers clenching the damp towel clinging to his lean strong hips.

Sam’s breath exploded from his throat in a sort of strangled cry as he saw his brother standing by the door, a smirk on his lips. Stormy had scrambled for cover under the blanket, one arm sneaking out to snatch the dress that lay on the floor.

“Sorry”, Dean said unable to contain his glee.

“No you’re not”, Sam managed. He felt Stormy wriggling as she pulled on her dress. It was torture.

“Did I… interrupt something?” And yes, there it was that sardonic lift of eyebrow, that mischievous sparkle in the green eyes that told Sam that Dean knew exactly what he had interrupted.

He just sighed and pushed himself up in a more comfortable position.

Stormy stuck the tip of her nose over the covers, eyeing Dean with big blue eyes, still sparkling with the aftermaths of the desire that had driven her into Sam’s arms.

“Hey there”, Dean said, smiling at the red roses that adorned her cheeks. “Eh… I was just going to, you know, get dressed and then get some food. Is there a burger joint or something that’s still opened?” He asked the girl.

“There’s a Micky D’s a couple of blocks from here”, Stormy said, her voice dampened by the fact that half her face was still hidden beneath the covers.

“Gotcha’”, Dean blinked at her. He managed to pull on a pare of jeans without loosing the towel, that he trew over a chair. Pulled on a t-shirt grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. “Can I get you crazy kids anything?”

They both shook their heads.

“See you in a couple of minutes then”, he said putting a hand on the doorknob.

“Be careful”, Sam said before he disappeared through the door.

Dean turned and gave him a smile. “I always am, little brother.”

He closed the door behind him, locked it and then stood there for a moment listening to the explosion of giggling coming from the other side.

As he moved across the parking lot, not even glancing at the ugly little car. The alcohol level in his blood was still way to high. Instead he continued down the street in the direction Stormy had nodded.

The fog was still thick as wool, giving an eerie dirtiness to the light coming from the street lamps. Once again he got that feeling, that spidery tingle down his spine, as if the entire town were haunted. And perhaps that wasn’t far from the truth, he thought, remembering the Fideal. Remembering Marissa.

Her body had disappeared. Why?

Dean shoved his hands deep into his pockets and continued towards the golden arches that burned like a Lighting house in the distance.

Bobby had said it was a poltergeist, and here he had met a Fideal. It didn’t make sense. Unless the poltergeist activity had nothing at all to do with the killings or the sea creature.

Even though he was deep in thought, Dean’s attention to his surroundings did not waver. He was like a soldier, always moving through enemy-territory.

He didn’t think the Fideal would come after him, it was targeting women after all. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t other baddies around.

As he turned around a corner he got a waft of that almost sickening oceanic smell again, and found that he had made his way to the canal.

Arched bridges connected the streets the canal cut through. On the low brick wall that was suppose to protect people from falling into the dark water something was scribbled in red. There was just enough light coming from a street lamp for him to read the graffiti as he walked past it:

PENNYWISE LIVES.

Dean chuckled. Someone in this town sure had a morbid sense of humour. He could recall the killer clown known as Pennywise in the Stephen King novel ‘It’. And there was a couple of similarities between the fiction and the murders here in Mansion, like the fact that the bodies had had bite wounds…

“I told you my brother was a jerk”, Sam managed once he had recovered from the attack of the giggles. He was still aching with unspent need, a throbbing ache that made the jeans he had pulled back up feel uncomfortably tight.

They sat there quiet, looking deep into each others eyes for a moment, then Sam said softly: “The moment has passed, hasn’t it?”

Stormy looked down and nodded. “I’m sorry.”

But Sam put a finger under her chin, tilting her head up so that their eyes met again. “You have nothing to apologise for. Did I… did I hurt you when…” His voice trailed off.

Stormy blushed. “A little”, she admitted. “But it felt wonderful at the same time.” She grinned. “You’re right, your brother is a jerk.”

Sam grinned back at her, then leaned in and gave her a deep kiss, full of promise. “Maybe there will come another moment for us.”

“I hope so”, the girl said a little breathlessly.

Sam rose and pulled on his shirt. “Come on”, he said, offering her his hand and pulling her up onto her feet. “I better take you home.”

“Can’t I stay?” Stormy asked, snuggling close to him as he helped her with her green coat.

“I’d love to have you there in my bed all night”, Sam said. “But my jerk of a brother will be back in a couple of minutes.”

Stormy smiled at this. “Yeah…” She took his hand, entwining their fingers in that natural way of hers as they stepped out, locking the door behind them.

As they walked towards the car Stormy asked: “How long will you stay here in Mansion.”

“I dont know”, Sam said. “It depends on the…” He silenced.

“On the what?” Stormy asked. “Or is that part of the things you don’t want to talk about?”

“In away”, Sam replied, feeling a little uncomfortable, not wanting to have to lie to this girl and at the same time wanting to protect her from the truth of the life he was leading. He finally settled for some sort of middle-ground between the two. “Dean and I are looking for someone.”

They had reached the car and Sam opened the door to the passenger’s side. Stormy took her seat. “I see”, she said, looking up at him.

Sam moved around to the other side of the car and slipped in behind the wheel. “Where to”, he asked.

“Just follow Castle Rock Lane until you come to the church.” She smiled at him. “You can’t miss it.”

Deans senses came alive as he felt eyes on him, whirling he pulled his 7m from the back of his waistband, moving slowly in a tight circle.

“Come out, come out, where-ever you are”, he chided softly, his eyes darting across shadow and shrubbery. His gun eye level.

“You don’t need the gun… Dean”, came an all too familiar voice. He turned back to the bridge watching as Marissa moved in silent grace from under its eaves.

She was perfect again, no blood, no wounds, a different dress how-ever of Crimson silk moving with every curve of her body.

“No”, Dean said setting his jaw, gun amied at her head. “You died. Christ! You died on top of me.”

“I cannot die”, She whispered in a musical voice taking another step closer.

“Stop”, Dean said, his gun cocking meant business. “Or I’ll shoot and I’ll make damn sure that you stay dead, you undead bitch. What the hell are you anyway? Some sort of goul or something?” His eyes widened. “The Fideal!”

“Perhaps”, she said her fingers grazing over the rocky bridge edge. “Perhaps I am cursed to live and die over and over and over…”

“Just what the hell does that mean?” he demanded keeping a safe distance between them.

She gazed at the lettering on the bridge. “They are not entirely wrong in this”, her Gold -Green eyes shining as she looked back at him. “But it is not me you need fear.”

“I’m not afraid of you”, Dean said with a quirk of his head, loosening his ever tightening shoulders.

“Good then…” She drawled softly. “If you kill the Fideal you will set me free. It is because of me she now kills the females because I will not die as I should have.”

“Stop talking like someone out of a damn theatre play!” Dean felt like his head was going to implode trying to understand her.

“She… the Fideal… is my sister. We were born of the sea as twins.”

“Sorry, honey I don’t see the likeness”, he drawled, gun still high.

“Of course not …this body is not my own as hers is”

Dean’s eyes widened. “I kissed you!” He scathed as if a sudden bad taste were in his mouth.

She laughed softly. “I can keep this body living as long as I inhabit it, no matter how often she tries to kill me Dean.” Her face was suddenly sad, weary, tired.

“No offence but why would you want to give that up after all if you look like…”

“Listen to me Dean!” she barked cutting him off. “It doesn’t belong to me, don’t you see?”

Dean’s eyes widened as he began to understand. “The Poltergeist.”

“Yes Dean, she roams the fields of her fathers land. Kills his sheep with fear because no one knows what happened to her. I have her body, my soul is trapped now, just as hers has no place to go as long as her body lives.”

“But no one recognizes you …or her, whatever”, Dean said with a shake of his head.

“Because she was only twelve at the time of her disappearance… I took her body, changed it, made it mine. That was over 2 decades ago… and God, how humans forget…” her head dropped, her voice faded. “Look in the library archives and you will find her picture after her disappearance.”

“I could just kill her body and burn it.” He said mirthfully, gun becoming more pointed.

“It wont do you any good as long as I’m part of it, Dean!” She was suddenly agitated. “You have to kill the Fideal, my sister to free us both!”

“Why the hell is she… it killing girls here now?” he demanded of her insane story.

“Because I led her here by accident, she followed somehow over time this far from sea …and now she is a vengeance with a never ending hunger.” Marissa stepped forward, rays of dusky moonlight glinting off her face. Dean watched her eyes change into oceanic colours as if the very sea was within them. “We were worshiped as Goddess once, our beauty then is no more, it has died with our legend Dean. We belong here…no more.”

She held out her hand, laying on her palm was an object. “Take it Dean as it is the only thing that will kill her and set us both free.”

Lowering the gun he took a few careful steps closer, looking at what she held. A tiny dagger made of mother of pearl, simple with the swirling colours of the rainbow glinting across it.

“This is it? This will take down that…that ..” He could see pain in her eyes for what he was about to say changing then mid –sentence “Fideal?”

“Do not be deceived, hunter”, her voice was changing becoming prismatic touching all around him. “It may look small but it is powerful enough to slay a goddess of the sea.”

Dean reached out cautiously taking the delicate; near sliver of a knife. It was incredibly sharp as he found when it nicked his palm.

“Have a care, hunter”, she mused in a most beautiful tone.

Dean looked from the dagger to her, a crooked smile lighting his face. “You say you were more beautiful than even this?” his eyes taking in the lovely form she was of.

“At one time… over 5,000 of your years ago, Dean… yes.”

She stepped back then a smile on her face. “Why do you think I took this form when I did ? Arrogance, beauty and pride can ruin even a Goddess Dean.”

“Wait!” He said tucking the tiny dagger in his pants as she turned to leave. “How will we free the girl after your gone?”

She turned, her face flashing something dark and evil making him take a swift step back. “Her body will be as it was, before I took it, on edge of her fathers land.”

“Oh great”, he mumbled for the wide clarification.

“And Dean.”

He looked up but could no longer see her.´

“It is possible she could take another form…as well”

Dean stood in silence for a moment his eyes going wide. Sam, he had to find Sam!

Set after the end of Season 2. Dean and Sam goes after a creature that kills and feeds on young women. But, as Sam discovers, things get a bit more complicated than that when he finds himself attracted to one of the would be victims.

“Well Ill be damned”, Sheriff Miller breathed as he bent over the spot Marissa’s had died. “Where the hell did she go?” He looked around nervously, his fingers smoothing over the well worn hilt of his 45.

Willard was playing out an Ace Ventura, gun out, moving left to right in exaggerated motions, scanning the dense shrubbery close by.

“Just what was I dragged out of bed for?” Came the irritated voice of the bony doctor, shoving his spectacles higher across his thin nose as he lifted Deans bloody and mangled shirt into the air.

Miller scratched his head. “I am sorry, Doc. But I swear that there is a body.”

The doctor nodded sadly. “Another dead girl? Who?”

“Someone named Marissa. No one from town.”

“Do you think the monster grabbed her?” Willard asked, his eyes widening with youthful enthusiasm.

Miller sighed. “There is no monster.” Keeping up the masquerade was important. If people found out that he thought the killer to be some sort of beast taken right out of a horror movie they would think him insane. “But, yes Willard. The killer might have taken the body.” He got an idea. “Why don’t you look for clues, dust for fingerprints and try to find DNA-” Before he even had time to finish the sentence Willard had run back to their car to get his beloved CSI-kit out of the trunk.

The doctor shook his bald head. “He is a great kid that one, dumb as an oxen, but great. So, what are you going to do about this… what did you say again?”

“Fideal.” Miller shrugged. “I think I’ll let the Winchesters handle it as long as they are discreet.”

The Doc glanced at the two figures in the car. “They’re just boys, Henry.”

“So where we when we crawled through the jungles of ‘Nam, Doc.”

“True.” The two men shared a glance. Then the Doc threw the cigarette he had smoked on the ground and placed a foot on it, extinguishing it.

“If they should need medical intention, God forbid, take them to me. To my house, not the clinic.”

Millard nodded. “I better get them back to the motel before the meeting at the town hall is over. Be careful, Doc.”

The short man smiled, showing a shadow of the young man he had once been. “I always am, Sarge.”

The copper haired girl opened the door allowing Sam to step out of the car.

“No handles on the inside”, he said, thankful for the darkness that hid his shame of the lame comment.

Stormy smiled at him. Before she could say anything Dean too climbed out of the car, nearly toppling his brother over.

“This is my brother”, Sam said. Why, oh why do the lamest things fall out of my mouth? He thought desperately.

“So this is Jason Bates, the psycho killer from outer space”, Stormy said with a grin, eyeing the blood that spattered Dean’s face and chest. “Nice outfit.”

Dean ignored her for the moment in favour of glaring at his gangly younger brother. “You blew our cover?” He hissed out of the corner of his mouth.

“It was a stupid cover, Dean”, Sam replied. “She figured out the names Jason and Freddy Bates weren’t real ones.” He turned to Stormy again. “You have to forgive Dean. He is a jerk at times, he just can’t help it.”

“Older brothers are suppose to be jerks”, Stormy said with a shrug. “I think it’s the law.” They smiled at each other, eyes locked.

“Shheesh” Dean rolled his eyes, suddenly annoyed with the doe eyed pair, dragging dirty fingers over his short cropped hair.

“Winchester”, came a low worried voice behind him as an infatuated Sam and Stormy whispered to each other.

Dean turned to face the sheriff noticing deputy Willard fidgeting at his back. “What’s going down Miller?” He asked eyeing the doc struggling to shove his over large bag back into the car.

“Christ sakes, Willard help the doc already!” Miller near bellowed, sending the heavy set man running for the doc’s car. “Your girl is gone…” Miller said soberly having turned back to Dean. He spat a stream of tobacco juice across the dusty pavement.

“The Fideal?” Dean asked his fingers lingering on a strained point at the back of his neck. He felt cold all the sudden.

“Possibly”, The Sheriff handed him his coat and held up his blood stained shirt in a plastic bag. “Mind if we run samples on the blood?”

Dean shook his head as he shrugged into his coat. Stepping closer to the Sheriff he did a nervous nose scratch as he said in low tones. “You think you can trust us like you trusted our father?”

“Tell me what I need to know, boy”, Miller replied spitting another stream of juice.

‘We’re wanted by the FBI”, Dean said frankly. “Not because we did anything wrong…”

“…was only percieved that way.” The sheriff finished for him, nodding in understanding .”Tell ya what Winchester, I figure I already owe your father one and two. If you boys stop this thing, you’ll always be safe in my jurisdiction.” He winked at Dean’s thin smile.

“I got your back, son” Miller said warmly as Dean turned to find Sam. He nodded at the man over his shoulder turning to find Stormy held close to Sam’s lean form. Both smiling as he grinned at Sam who ignored his wink.

“How about a ride back to the hotel” He said all affable and sweet.

Sam looked at Stormy hesitating as he took her delicate hand in his. “Um would you care to ..”

“I’d love to go”, she smiled beautifully before he could finish.

“Great!” Sam grinned as they made their way to the pumpkin patch car.

“This is your car?” She snickered.

“It’s his”, both men said at the same time, pointing at each other.

“It’s adorable.” She laughed managing to squeeze in past the bags in the tiny back seat.

Sam gave Dean a look as they drove out onto the road.

“Oh be careful for the sheep on the road”, Stormy said pressing into the two front seats to see Sam better.

Dean laughed sharply, earning a scathing look from Sam. “Yea, Sam watch out for those sheep!”

Sam jerked into another gear giving everyone a little whiplash. Dean sneered and Stormy giggled.

They pulled into the gloomy parking lot with Dean hoping out without a backward glance, heading for a blissful shower.

Sam felt awkward having this pretty young girl in front of a hotel… Christ,what was he thinking!

“Umm, want to come in?” he asked, lamness pounding in his skull.

“Sure”, Stormy said, unafraid as she smiled at him.

“Umm, yea I think we got some soft drinks in there…” He thumbed at the door nervously.

She laughed softly. “OK… Don’t worry Sam, I won’t bite.”

“Oh! I wasn’t worried about that… I thought maybe you were thinking I would.” He felt heat and colour rising high across his cheeks.

She shook her copper clad head gently standing on tiptoes to give him a kiss. Sam felt a warm jolt of heat of a different kind raze his stomach as he wrapped his arms around her, picking her off her feet and kissing her deeply. It was wonderful.

Setting her down carefully, he caught the motel curtain swinging shut from the corner of his eye. “Brother…” he mumbled taking her hand and taking her inside the mundane room.

Dean was just closing the door to the bathroom.

Sam sat on one of the beds after finding a couple cans of coke, cracking the first one to hand her as she sat beside him.

“So Sam, tell me more about you and your brother?”

Sam sputtered over a mouthful of his coke. Let’s see, we are what’s left of a dysfunctional family, our parents killed by demons. Hunters by trade, we kill vampires, demons, werewolves… lots of blood and gore, blah, blah blah…

“Sam?” She asked more softly, her eyes meeting his in that wild colt roll.

“It’s… it’s complicated”, he finally said, taking another mouthful of coke, trying to wash away the bitter feeling of having been cheated out of a normal life.

“It’s okay”, Stormy said, wrapping her fingers around his hand. “Really it is.”

“Tell me something about yourself?” Sam asked, looking into her sweet blue eyes that seemed to hide secret depths.

Stormy smiled a little, a blush colouring her cheeks. “There is not much to tell. I was born here in Mansion, I’ve lived here all my life. When I was twelve my uncle took me to Disneyland and I fell in love with Prince Charming and wanted to move into the pink castle. I’m just a small town girl.”

“What about your parents?” Sam asked.

Stormy looked away, shaking her head.

“Hey”, Sam said softly, gazing on the graceful curve of her neck, the delicate shell-like lines of her ear. “It’s okay”, he said mimicking her words.

She turned her head and met his brown eyes that seamed to hold so many more nuances than just brown; she could see the grey of storm clouds in them, the dark swell of a night time sea.

“Do you want to kiss me again?” She asked, looking shy all of a sudden, her fingers playing with the silver cross that hung around her neck on a dainty little chain.

“Yes” Sam said softly his hands already pulling her into his embrace. He felt in his heart they shared something of life’s cruel jokes as she tilted her face up to his. Her slender fingers slipping from the cross..

Taking her mouth tenderly with his, she opened up like a sweet flower taking him in as her own tongue vied his for desire.

His hands slid along her ribs, long fingers kneading them as he tightened his hold on her pulling her onto his lap. “Is this alright?” He whispered against her lips, her eyes drowning pools of color warmed with pleasure.

“Yes”, she murmured, her fingers finding thick soft curls at his neck, entwining them and tugging softly.

Sam bit back a moan as heat filled him to the core, his fingers sliding across her stomach moving up to the pert line of her breasts. Slipping over the soft material of her dress, teasing them until he felt her back arch.

Stormy felt his rising desire against the tight fabric of his jeans pressing against her, she found herself wiggling across his lap, driving another stifled moan from his lips. It felt obvious he was by no means… small.

Sam felt her heart pounding like a caged bird against his hand. “H-Have you ever done this before, Stormy?” He asked softly against the delicate counch of her ear. He wasn’t sure were this was leading, but he felt such urgent need, such desire to delve into her warm sweet body…something he had not done since his girlfriend died that horrible death in their room back at College.

“No…” She whispered. Her fingers came up to touch the cross again. “I’m Catholic.”

“I see”, Sam breathed.

“I’m sorry if I disappoint you”, the girl whispered. Sam had to smile at this.

“Disappoint me? That’s silly, Stormy.” He bent down planting a kiss on her forehead. “There is other things we could do without going there…” He emphasised his word by gently grinding their bodies together. “If you want to.”

Instead of saying anything she claimed his mouth, eyes closed and arms wrapping themselves around his neck. Her tongue darted out to explore, to play.

Soon they were both moaning softly, gasping with pleasure as fingers travelled over silken skin, taught muscles and soft curves.

As I hope you have discovered the Faery Court strives to be a source of inspiration for all lovers of erotic fantasy and urban fairytales. It is also the online home of writer Alterra von Feures and myself. Both Alterra and I are struggling, as so many others, to combine our day to day lives with our passion for writing. 

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We are deeply grateful for all support and promises to use the funds recieved to create more and write more high quality erotica.

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Sharma Wild

As is our tradition we greet the change of the season with a new theme – this one inspired by the classical arts.

Blessings & Love
Sharma

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Blessings & Love
Sharma Wild

Set after the end of Season 2. Dean and Sam goes after a creature that kills and feeds on young women. But, as Sam discovers, things get a bit more complicated than that when he finds himself attracted to one of the would be victims.

The alley behind the Goat’s Head looked like any other alley behind any other bar. Dean had seen a lot of them.

He buried his fingers in Marissa’s luxurious hair and closed his eyes focusing on the sensation of her lips against his of her hands struggling with the buttons of his shirt. Finally she simply ripped it apart, sending the buttons flying.

“You feel so good”, she mumbled, running her fingers over his chest, raking her nails across his nipples causing him to shiver.

The fog was still thick, still enveloping them. And now it had a tangy, salty smell.

“Strange”, Dean mumbled.

“What?” Marissa asked, smiling at him.

“I think I can smell the sea.”

She laughed. “You think you can smell the sea at a time like this? Honey…” She whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him close. “I think you think too much…” She claimed his mouth again, savagely nibbling at his lower lip.

A moan escaped Dean’s lips as he returned the favour, slipping his tongue deep into the wealth of her soft mouth. The scent of sea almost cloying now as his fingers roved over her firm high set breasts.
He pulled his head back, some deep set sense banging an alarm across the nape of his neck, hairs catching attention as he pulled Marissa way from his face.

“What on earth is the matter with y-”

Her voice grinding into a low grunt as something slammed into her from behind Knocking Dean off balance, tripping over backwards he fell with the full weight of Marissa coming down on top of him. Her mouth going slack, blood poured from her lips onto his face and throat as he struggled to get out from under her… freezing still as a creature came into focus above them. An apparition become to real flesh and bone as it leered down at him with huge clawed hands, mouth filled with jagged teeth. The smell of ocean becoming a rank rotting fish odour. Its eyes glowing an eerie green.

His mind struggled with the concept of what it was as it began moving closer leaning over the woman’s body as if deciding where to bite first.

Fideal. It came to him in a rush as the female appearing creature laid teeth to the back of Marissa’s body. He had heard once long ago his father fought such a creature of ocean legend.

Dean listened in a sickened state as flesh was ripped from bone.

No!” He screamed, shoving Marissa quivering body off his. Flinging salt that had broke open in his pocket at the foul stringy haired being. It hissed but seemed unaffected by the salt. Its lips snarling as it wafted back into shadow, unwilling to fight the male of Dean’s species …

He sucked in a huge breath, looking down at Marissa torn body. “Jesus, this is just friggin great!” Turning fast as headlights caught up his face in the bright glow. His blood spattered face and chest a neon call sign.

~*~
“Mary Mother of Jesus, what the hell is going on back here!” Sheriff Miller spit out past the wad of beechnut chewing tobacco packed in his cheek. His plump hand reaching for the shotgun as Dean slipped through the back door into the Goats Head Bar. Willard loaded for bear as they hit the brakes and leaped from the police car, lights flashing vivid colours over the dead girl’s body.

Sam gazed into Stormy’s soft sweet eyes as they slow danced to Nazareth’s ‘Love Hurts’. Their bodies swaying gently together.

“I can’t believe how sweet you are” he said, feeling lame for the sappy words.
She only smiled happily tightening her arms around his waist.

The sudden scream broke through his revelry like a chainsaw against his head.
He turned letting go of the girl as Dean shirtless and spattered in blood, shot across the bar-room. The bubble gum chewing bar-girl letting go another shocked screech for the trail of blood he left along the way.

“Oh shit Dean!” Sam grabbed his brother by the arms. “Are you hurt?” Gasping in relief as the shaken man shook his head furiously.

“I’m fine. But we gotta go. Now, Sam!”

Sam needed no more prodding, this was a scenario that had happened once to often to them as they scattered for the front door. Sam gave the delicate girl a lopsided grin. “Was nice meeting you, Stormy”, He called out feeling lamer than ever as he put the footwork to the floor.

“Stop right there you murdering bastards!” The good deputy Willard called out with mighty authority, rasing the shot gun chest level just as the Winchester boys got to the front door. Sheriff Miller stood next to the younger man, completely blocking the way with his bulky frame, his own shotgun too aimed at the escaping strangers.

“Look sir”, Sam started, but the click when Willard cocked the rifle silenced him. Dean’s hands were already in the air and his younger brother followed his example.

“Oh my god!” The waitress shrieked. “Is it them? Are they the monsters that killed Laura and the others?”

“Shut up, Beth!” Sheriff Millard snapped without letting his attention waver from the Winchester boys even for a second.

Suddenly Stormy came up to stand beside the Sheriff. “No…” She said, her eyes lingering on Sam’s face before she turned to the Sheriff, putting a small hand on his arm. “It can’t be them. They just got here. You would have seen them in town had they been here earlier. It’s not them, Sheriff.”

The man relaxed somewhat, not really lowering his shotgun but at least he wasn’t pointing directly at Dean’s head anymore.

“I think you two boys better come down to the station with me”, he said. “Give a statement and then… we’ll see.”

“Thanks”, Sam said, realising his bent up breath.

Stormy just smiled at him.

As the Sheriff herded them out the door, Sam glanced over his shoulder. He could still vividly recall the feeling of the girl’s lips against his, the way her petite body felt in his arms as they danced. He wanted to grab a last glimpse of her, something to remember.

Stormy stood in the same spot as before, accentuated by the old spotlights that lit up the patch of open floor that served as dance floor. Her copper coloured hair was set aflame by the light and the simple grey dressed looked like the mysterious shroud of some long lost Goddess.

“What are you smiling about?” Dean demanded when they were sitting side by side in the back of the police car.

“I hade a good time tonight”, Sam said.

“Yeah, that’s great. I’m so happy for you”, Dean drawled.

“No yapping back there!” The Sheriff commanded, eyeing them in the rear-view mirror.

“Sorry, Sheriff”, Dean said.

When the man didn’t start the engine the brothers shared a glance.

“Is something wrong?” Sam asked.

The sheriff looked up again to meet the young man’s imploring eyes in the mirror. “No, no…” he said. “It’s just that… I have to call the Doc to get down here, to take care of the body. Are you related to the woman?” He asked Dean.

“No. I just met her. I thought she lived here in town.”

Miller shook her head. “I’ve never seen her before in my life.”

“She said her name was Marissa”, Dean said slowly, stunned and unable to hide it. “I never thought to ask for a last name. She showed us the way to the motel when we arrived here a couple of hours ago.”

“I am sorry”, Miller said, a little softer. “I got a good look of her face and I can swear on a stack of bibles that I’ve never seen her before. Did you perhaps see the killer?” He asked, there was a hesitation in the burly man’s voice that made Dean share another glance with his brother.

“You know what it is your hunting”, Dean said, it was a statement and not a question.

The Sheriff turned in his seat so that he could face the two young men in the back of his car. “I know it isn’t human.”

Dean’s face looked haggard in the pale light spilling from the bright blue juice-mixers on top of the car. The splatter of blood across his face looked black, sinister. “It’s called Fideal”, he said. “A sort of sea creature.”

“Sea?” The Sheriff asked. “But we’re miles from the sea here.”

Dean shrugged. “I know what I saw.”

“Fideal…” The Sheriff mumbled, rubbing his forehead. He suddenly seemed very tired. “What else do you know about it? And how come you know about the existence of such creatures at all?”

Dean turned to his younger brother. “It’s your turn to do the explaining, Sammy.”

“We’re Hunters”, Sam said. “We hunt down and kill things like this Fideal, and ghosts and…”

“Demons, shape-shifters, vampires”, Dean filled in.

Sheriff Miller just nodded. “Hunters you say…”

Dean shifted a little in his seat. “I’m guessing we’re not the first ones you met.”

“Why would you think that?”

“People usually say things like ‘Ghosts and demons don’t exist. You must be crazy’.”

Miller smiled a little. “Not much get passed you, does it, son?”

“Not much”, Dean agreed.

“But you’re right”, Miller continued. “I met a hunter when I was still working as a Depute back in Derry. It’s… oh, fifteen, sixteen years ago. There was something attacking the children. At first we thought it was a paedophile, using some sort of drug that put the children in a coma… But how wrong we where…” He shook his head, his eyes growing distant as he thought back to the horrific events.

“What was it?” Sam asked in that soft voice of his.

The Sheriff turned to him. “A sort of demon, never found out what it was called. This man helped us. Damn”, he chuckled. “He came rolling into town in this big black car like some hero out of an old western. John Winchester was his name-”

“Dad?” Sam exclaimed. Dean gave a low whistle.

“Talk about coincidence”, he said.

Sheriff Miller regarded them with new interest. “John Winchester is your father?”

“Yeah”, Dean said. “I mean… he was.”

“He died a little over a week ago.” Sam could feel the now familiar pain of loss and grief tearing at his heart again.

“I’m sorry to hear that, boys”, Miller said. “Your dad, he was a very special man. A good man.” Before they could respond a white car drove in to the parking lot. “Here is the Doc now”, Miller said. “I’ll just talk to him for a minute and then I’ll take you boys back to the motel.”

“I thought we were going to be interrogated down at the station”, Dean said.

Miller smiled. “I don’t think that will be necessary now. Not unless you absolutely want me to.”

“Nah”, Dean replied with a small grin. “I can survive one evening without having been thrown in jail.”

“Alright then.” Miller stepped out of the car to talk to the tiny little man that was trying to coax a large doctor’s bag out the passenger seat of his car.

“So…” Dean asked with feign disinterest. “What’s her name, Sammy?”

“Who… what?” Sam mumbled his eyes on the Doctor as the bent figure headed toward the back of the bar followed by a babbling Deputy Willard. The Sheriff waving him off to explain what the boys had disclosed.

“Sam”, Dean said, his gaze steady as Sam turned his head to finally look at him, really look at him. Fear and pain had his usually grey brown eyes a solid dark grey.

“You scared the shit out of me Dean…” He mumbled with tight control on his emotions. “I-I dont think I could liv- I mean handle it if anything happened to you.” His brow was knotted his lips tight as he stared back into his brothers eyes.

“Sammy…” Dean murmured, squeezing the young mans shoulder. “I’m not going to die… at least no quicker than you.” That charming gleam jewelling his gold flecked eyes as he gave Sam a shake.

Sam shook his head but managed to come down another notch from overload land, taking a deep breath the scent of dried blood was not a great odour wafting off Dean.

“What did you see of this thing, Dean?” He asked as his eyes roved over the blood flecked skin of his upper torso.

“Well she wasn’t my type, too many fangs and talons. Plus she doesn’t like men.” He grinned, dealing with it the only way he knew how. “Talk about ruining a good time… that bitch!”

Sam had to laugh then.

“Oh and she didn’t seem bothered by salt in the least”, he added as an after thought.

“Great one of our best weapons… useless”, Sam added. Dean was smiling at him still.

‘What!” He burst out.

“You didn’t answer my question and she’s walking over here right now.” Dean couldn’t have been happier for the way Sam’s face lit up as he caught sight of copper red hair floating in the breeze.