SPN: It's in Your Eyes, Where the Shadows Lie - Chapter 3
Title: It's in Your Eyes, Where the Shadows Lie
Beta: verucasalt123
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Genre: It's a Terrible Life AU verse, Horror, Drama, Dark themes, Angst
Pairings: Jimmy/Dean, Castiel/Dean, mentions of Dean/'Dr.Sexy' and Dean/OMCs
Spoilers: For the AU verse in episode 4.17; none for canon
Warnings: PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE READING! Language, stalking, gore, sex, d/s themes, sex between minors (under 13, not descriptive), major character death Dean, cannibalism, necrophilia, twincest, incest, pedophilia, patricide, non-con, dub-con, suicide, mental illness (Dissociative Identity Disorder), hallucinations
Word Count: 17 000 (in total)
Summary: Jimmy Novak has been working as Dean Smith's secretary for the last two years. After two years of crushing on his employer, Jimmy and Dean finally go out on a date. However, unknown to Dean, Castiel has also taken an interest in him and Dean's stalker will stop at nothing until he gets what he wants.
A/N: Written as part of the dc-dystopia Challenge. All submissions have dark themes so I strongly suggest that you READ THE WARNINGS before reading my fic. The appearances of pedophilia and sex between minors has been intentionally kept non-descriptive in adherence to LiveJournal's Terms of Service. If even one of the warning themes disturbs you, I highly recommend you don't read this.
Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | Epilogue | Art Masterpost
The cool, evening breeze rustled the leaves, the night otherwise silent in the posh, upper-scale suburban neighborhood. Castiel stood hidden from view among the bushes, blending into the shadows as he watched Dean work out on the second floor of his home. Castiel knew that room, an old study that Dean had converted into a moderately-sized rec room, after moving his desk and books to a room on the first floor. The lighting on the first floor was better and Castiel knew, from the number of times he had disarmed the alarm system and snuck around Dean’s house, that Dean preferred having his study closer to the kitchen since it made moving materials from one room to the other, as he often cluttered his dining room table with notes and graphs, easier. Dean liked to work well into the night, usually through his late dinners.
His patterns had changed recently, however. Dean now exercised at night instead of just the mornings as part of the new diet he was testing out. He no longer drank skim milk and had switched to rice milk, as Castiel had noted from explorations of Dean’s trash. Dean seemed to have given up dairy products entirely in favor of alternatives, even having switched from probiotic yogurt to probiotic soygurt.
Castiel remained stoic, the breeze ruffling his already messy, dark hair. He continued to watch as Dean jogged on the treadmill, the light sheen of sweat staining an old, fitted wife beater Dean often used when he exercised. He was probably listening to Metallica or AC/DC, preferring the heavier rock beats when he pushed his body to its limits over the Easy Listening he reserved for the evenings he stayed up late to prepare for meetings and presentations (Bob Dylan and Tony Bennett being among his favorites).
“He has an appointment with Jimmy this Friday,” Castiel said, his lips twitching in what could have almost been a frown.
Lucifer stood on the sidewalk in front of the line of bushes Castiel hid in, clutching a red rose and twirling it in his hand out of boredom. “…and?”
“I find this disconcerting.”
Lucifer scoffed. “I hate to break it to you, Cassie, but Dean’s had a hard-on for Jimmy since he hired the hairless ape.”
“As I am aware,” Castiel retorted, irritation in his voice. The dark look he received from Lucifer, however, pacified the jealousy that flared inside of him. With more control, he added, “I wish I could go to him now.”
But as Castiel made to step out of the bushes, Lucifer raised his hand, stopping Castiel in his tracks. “All in good time, brother. Patience. Wait for Dean to come to you.”
“I have been waiting.”
“And you will soon be rewarded,” Lucifer reminded him, pausing a moment to also glance up at Dean. Dean had now finished his workout and was taking a long, slow drink from his water bottle. “He is the Righteous Man. But he must give himself to you willingly. And he will.”
The certainty in Lucifer’s voice settled the doubt that Castiel felt and put him at ease. His shoulders relaxed and he looked up into Lucifer’s eyes. “Forgive my impatience. I am…not assessing the situation with the same clarity of mind as you, brother.”
Lucifer seemed pleased by this.
He tossed the rose somewhere behind him and began walking away from Castiel, blending well into the shadows of the sidewalk even in his pristine, white suit. “In the meantime, I suggest you toss out your coat. Wouldn’t want to draw any attention to yourself, would you?”
Castiel followed in step behind him, glancing down at the sleeves of the tan trench coat. The blood stains had been difficult to remove and were mostly gone, save for the splatter on the inside of the left arm. Maybe Lucifer did have a point…
*
It was Friday morning and like every morning, Jimmy woke up at 6 am sharp. The first thing he did was jog around the few blocks surrounding his apartment, coming back in at a quarter to 7 to slip into the shower. Next came a quick breakfast: 12 grain whole wheat organic toast slice, lightly coated in margarine, and a few slices of apple with herbal tea that Dean had recommended. After a few days of attempting to ease off the caffeine, Jimmy was solely missing his daily hit but the blend of herbs with a dash of honey was proving a tasty alternative.
It was nearly 7:30 when Jimmy was about to head out the door, eyes then falling on the neglected bottle of prescribed anxiety pills sitting on his dining room table. He had become less and less reliant on them over these last few years and neglected most of what his psychiatrist prescribed to him. These days, he questioned whether he really needed to take them at all.
I’ll be late for work!
With time pressing, his decision was made and he quickly bound out of the apartment to the elevator. He didn’t live far from the financial district, only 3 subway stops south of where his apartment was located in the heart of city, and even if he left as late as 7:40, he usually managed to make it just shy of 8 am for his shift.
As he entered the lobby, he paused to pick up his mail and continued on his way to work. It wasn’t until he was already aboard the crowded subway train that he began rifling through his mail, most of them bills that he shoved back into his leather messenger bag to toss out later.
His eyes paused on a white envelope with no return address on it. His own address was also absent, the only thing written on the envelope his name in cursive:
Jimmy
Frowning, he opened the envelope. It was absent of anything, save for a photograph. Pulling out the photograph, the hairs on the back of Jimmy’s neck stood on end as he stared at a picture of Dean Smith, most likely taken recently. Dean was in a cafe, his head bent over to review some notes, and clad in his usual work attire. He seemed unaware that a photo was being taken of him.
Jimmy turned the photograph over in his hand and his blood ran cold when he read the ominous words written on the back.
He’s MINE.
*
“So…big date tonight?”
Jimmy jumped in his seat, dropping the notes he had been clutching in his hand. The glare he shot at Gabriel, who was now casually leaning against his desk, a vision of this season’s Prada meets Versace (Jimmy has been eying that Prada shirt for more than a week now at Bloomingdales but fears his bank account can’t take another hit this month), and grinning cheekily at the secretary. Making a show of bending down to retrieve all the notes in his irritation, with no help from Gabriel, Jimmy set them neatly in a pile on the corner of his desk.
“Who says I have a ‘big date’ tonight?”
“A little birdie told him.”
Jimmy was two seconds away from banging his head on his desk as Crowley McLeod, Ruby’s boss and an overseer of the Human Resources department, appeared beside Gabriel, perfectly tailored black suit and Italian leather shoes making him easily Sandover’s best dressed. Accompanied with a fine, Scottish accent, Crowley was all image and charm though Ruby often complained his temper and cut throat attitude got him his position in the company.
“I don’t even want to know how you found out…” Jimmy groaned.
“It’s quite simple, really,” Crowley started, “All paths on the grapevine lead to one place: me.”
“What he’s saying is Dean mentioned it to his buddy Brant in management, who mentioned it to his on-and-off again girlfriend Dana in IT, who then told a very jealous Lisa Braeden in Human Resources, who then complained to everyone in Human Resources about all the good ones being gay, which then spread to Crowley who then told moi,” Gabriel said, smirking. “And what a long path it is, this vine of grapes.”
“…is jumping off buildings still in style?” Jimmy complained.
“Sorry, love, but that is a bit 20th century,” Crowley replied. “The kids these days off themselves with pills and acoustic douchebag music.”
“Why do all the women think the only good men are gay?” As Gabriel said this, two women walked by, deep in conversation. “Hey ladies, I’ll have you know the Gabe train is in full operation, ready to give you the best ride of your life: first one’s on me.”
They both glared at him as he winked, earning Gabriel a laugh from both Crowley and Jimmy.
“Losing your touch there, mate.”
“Women don’t know a good thing when they see it.”
Wallowing in his mock sorrow, Gabriel popped a Jolly Rancher in his mouth.
Jimmy sighed. “I need to find a new job…maybe some place where my personal life doesn’t make the front page of the in office Inquirer.”
“I heard some secretarial positions have opened up at Wallace and Palmer’s,” Gabriel offered helpfully.
“I’ve got connections there, though I hear the Communications department is one giant frat party; piss poor management and sluggish workers, nothing ever gets done,” Crowley said. “Oh, and avoid going to Balthazar Flynn: bloke’s always shagging his secretaries, male or female, and wife’s got her panties in a bunch over the affairs. He’s going through a messy divorce right now and is a bit off the rails with his coke habit.”
“…how is it you know everyone in this city?”
“I make connections with everyone worth knowing. Comes in handy.”
“The bottom line: no one’s personal life is safe from Crowley,” Jimmy said.
“The bird finally gets it.” Pausing, Crowley glanced down at his watch. “Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I have a date with a bottle of scotch in my office. Let Smith know I’d like to reschedule our 2 o’clock to 3 next Tuesday.”
Jimmy jotted down the message on his notepad, brows furrowing. He looked over Dean’s schedule and began shaking his head. “Not sure Mr. Smith will be able to do that. He’s got a full day on Tuesday.”
Irritation seeped into Crowley’s voice. “Then make it Wednesday.”
“Is 1:30 okay?”
“Perfect, love. If Smith throws a hissy fit, he knows where to find me.”
Jimmy finished jotting down the message.
“Bugger me, it’s only half past,” Crowley groaned. “Bloody day’s never gonna end. I’ll be seeking that drink now.”
Crowley waved and made his retreat, his usual swagger taking him over to the elevators to one of the upper floors. Once he was out of earshot, Gabriel continued chatting up Jimmy to kill time.
“So, boss not in today?”
Jimmy was updating Dean’s schedule on the computer, nodding while his eyes were glued to the screen and his fingers flew over the keyboard. “Meeting with upper management. Mr. Adler is introducing Dean to the CEO of Sandover and Bridge today.”
Gabriel whistled. “Damn, Smith’s playing with the big leagues now. Methinks a promotion be in the making.”
“I’m keeping my fingers crossed,” Jimmy responded, shy smile on his lips. “He works so hard; he deserves it.”
“Aww…you’re so cute when you gush over your man.” Gabriel reached over the desk to pinch Jimmy’s cheek, Jimmy dipping his head out of the way and swatting Gabriel’s hand. Gabriel chuckled. “Guess tonight you two will be celebrating more than the start of a budding relationship, huh? Give it to him good in the bedroom, Jim. Make me proud.”
Jimmy’s cheeks flared, his unfortunately pale skin unable to disguise the heat that spread across his face. “…shouldn’t you be working, Gabriel?”
“Always ruining my fun.”
Jimmy ignored Gabriel’s mock pout.
“Alright, bro, I’ll leave you to your work. Try not to have too much fun without me.”
As Gabriel made to leave, Jimmy’s eyes caught sight of the letter poking out of the back pocket on his ‘man purse’ (as Dean often jokingly refers to it as) nestled underneath his desk. A cold tingle crawled down Jimmy’s spine, that familiar sense of dread gripping his lungs so tightly, he momentarily felt as if he couldn’t breathe.
Glancing up at Gabriel’s retreating form, Jimmy called out, “Hey, Gabriel?”
Gabriel paused. “Yeah, Jim?”
“If there’s…if you know someone…someone who you think wants to hurt somebody you care about, what would you do?”
Chapter 4
Beta: verucasalt123
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Genre: It's a Terrible Life AU verse, Horror, Drama, Dark themes, Angst
Pairings: Jimmy/Dean, Castiel/Dean, mentions of Dean/'Dr.Sexy' and Dean/OMCs
Spoilers: For the AU verse in episode 4.17; none for canon
Warnings: PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE READING! Language, stalking, gore, sex, d/s themes, sex between minors (under 13, not descriptive), major character death Dean, cannibalism, necrophilia, twincest, incest, pedophilia, patricide, non-con, dub-con, suicide, mental illness (Dissociative Identity Disorder), hallucinations
Word Count: 17 000 (in total)
Summary: Jimmy Novak has been working as Dean Smith's secretary for the last two years. After two years of crushing on his employer, Jimmy and Dean finally go out on a date. However, unknown to Dean, Castiel has also taken an interest in him and Dean's stalker will stop at nothing until he gets what he wants.
A/N: Written as part of the dc-dystopia Challenge. All submissions have dark themes so I strongly suggest that you READ THE WARNINGS before reading my fic. The appearances of pedophilia and sex between minors has been intentionally kept non-descriptive in adherence to LiveJournal's Terms of Service. If even one of the warning themes disturbs you, I highly recommend you don't read this.
Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | Epilogue | Art Masterpost
The cool, evening breeze rustled the leaves, the night otherwise silent in the posh, upper-scale suburban neighborhood. Castiel stood hidden from view among the bushes, blending into the shadows as he watched Dean work out on the second floor of his home. Castiel knew that room, an old study that Dean had converted into a moderately-sized rec room, after moving his desk and books to a room on the first floor. The lighting on the first floor was better and Castiel knew, from the number of times he had disarmed the alarm system and snuck around Dean’s house, that Dean preferred having his study closer to the kitchen since it made moving materials from one room to the other, as he often cluttered his dining room table with notes and graphs, easier. Dean liked to work well into the night, usually through his late dinners.
His patterns had changed recently, however. Dean now exercised at night instead of just the mornings as part of the new diet he was testing out. He no longer drank skim milk and had switched to rice milk, as Castiel had noted from explorations of Dean’s trash. Dean seemed to have given up dairy products entirely in favor of alternatives, even having switched from probiotic yogurt to probiotic soygurt.
Castiel remained stoic, the breeze ruffling his already messy, dark hair. He continued to watch as Dean jogged on the treadmill, the light sheen of sweat staining an old, fitted wife beater Dean often used when he exercised. He was probably listening to Metallica or AC/DC, preferring the heavier rock beats when he pushed his body to its limits over the Easy Listening he reserved for the evenings he stayed up late to prepare for meetings and presentations (Bob Dylan and Tony Bennett being among his favorites).
“He has an appointment with Jimmy this Friday,” Castiel said, his lips twitching in what could have almost been a frown.
Lucifer stood on the sidewalk in front of the line of bushes Castiel hid in, clutching a red rose and twirling it in his hand out of boredom. “…and?”
“I find this disconcerting.”
Lucifer scoffed. “I hate to break it to you, Cassie, but Dean’s had a hard-on for Jimmy since he hired the hairless ape.”
“As I am aware,” Castiel retorted, irritation in his voice. The dark look he received from Lucifer, however, pacified the jealousy that flared inside of him. With more control, he added, “I wish I could go to him now.”
But as Castiel made to step out of the bushes, Lucifer raised his hand, stopping Castiel in his tracks. “All in good time, brother. Patience. Wait for Dean to come to you.”
“I have been waiting.”
“And you will soon be rewarded,” Lucifer reminded him, pausing a moment to also glance up at Dean. Dean had now finished his workout and was taking a long, slow drink from his water bottle. “He is the Righteous Man. But he must give himself to you willingly. And he will.”
The certainty in Lucifer’s voice settled the doubt that Castiel felt and put him at ease. His shoulders relaxed and he looked up into Lucifer’s eyes. “Forgive my impatience. I am…not assessing the situation with the same clarity of mind as you, brother.”
Lucifer seemed pleased by this.
He tossed the rose somewhere behind him and began walking away from Castiel, blending well into the shadows of the sidewalk even in his pristine, white suit. “In the meantime, I suggest you toss out your coat. Wouldn’t want to draw any attention to yourself, would you?”
Castiel followed in step behind him, glancing down at the sleeves of the tan trench coat. The blood stains had been difficult to remove and were mostly gone, save for the splatter on the inside of the left arm. Maybe Lucifer did have a point…
*
It was Friday morning and like every morning, Jimmy woke up at 6 am sharp. The first thing he did was jog around the few blocks surrounding his apartment, coming back in at a quarter to 7 to slip into the shower. Next came a quick breakfast: 12 grain whole wheat organic toast slice, lightly coated in margarine, and a few slices of apple with herbal tea that Dean had recommended. After a few days of attempting to ease off the caffeine, Jimmy was solely missing his daily hit but the blend of herbs with a dash of honey was proving a tasty alternative.
It was nearly 7:30 when Jimmy was about to head out the door, eyes then falling on the neglected bottle of prescribed anxiety pills sitting on his dining room table. He had become less and less reliant on them over these last few years and neglected most of what his psychiatrist prescribed to him. These days, he questioned whether he really needed to take them at all.
I’ll be late for work!
With time pressing, his decision was made and he quickly bound out of the apartment to the elevator. He didn’t live far from the financial district, only 3 subway stops south of where his apartment was located in the heart of city, and even if he left as late as 7:40, he usually managed to make it just shy of 8 am for his shift.
As he entered the lobby, he paused to pick up his mail and continued on his way to work. It wasn’t until he was already aboard the crowded subway train that he began rifling through his mail, most of them bills that he shoved back into his leather messenger bag to toss out later.
His eyes paused on a white envelope with no return address on it. His own address was also absent, the only thing written on the envelope his name in cursive:
Jimmy
Frowning, he opened the envelope. It was absent of anything, save for a photograph. Pulling out the photograph, the hairs on the back of Jimmy’s neck stood on end as he stared at a picture of Dean Smith, most likely taken recently. Dean was in a cafe, his head bent over to review some notes, and clad in his usual work attire. He seemed unaware that a photo was being taken of him.
Jimmy turned the photograph over in his hand and his blood ran cold when he read the ominous words written on the back.
He’s MINE.
*
“So…big date tonight?”
Jimmy jumped in his seat, dropping the notes he had been clutching in his hand. The glare he shot at Gabriel, who was now casually leaning against his desk, a vision of this season’s Prada meets Versace (Jimmy has been eying that Prada shirt for more than a week now at Bloomingdales but fears his bank account can’t take another hit this month), and grinning cheekily at the secretary. Making a show of bending down to retrieve all the notes in his irritation, with no help from Gabriel, Jimmy set them neatly in a pile on the corner of his desk.
“Who says I have a ‘big date’ tonight?”
“A little birdie told him.”
Jimmy was two seconds away from banging his head on his desk as Crowley McLeod, Ruby’s boss and an overseer of the Human Resources department, appeared beside Gabriel, perfectly tailored black suit and Italian leather shoes making him easily Sandover’s best dressed. Accompanied with a fine, Scottish accent, Crowley was all image and charm though Ruby often complained his temper and cut throat attitude got him his position in the company.
“I don’t even want to know how you found out…” Jimmy groaned.
“It’s quite simple, really,” Crowley started, “All paths on the grapevine lead to one place: me.”
“What he’s saying is Dean mentioned it to his buddy Brant in management, who mentioned it to his on-and-off again girlfriend Dana in IT, who then told a very jealous Lisa Braeden in Human Resources, who then complained to everyone in Human Resources about all the good ones being gay, which then spread to Crowley who then told moi,” Gabriel said, smirking. “And what a long path it is, this vine of grapes.”
“…is jumping off buildings still in style?” Jimmy complained.
“Sorry, love, but that is a bit 20th century,” Crowley replied. “The kids these days off themselves with pills and acoustic douchebag music.”
“Why do all the women think the only good men are gay?” As Gabriel said this, two women walked by, deep in conversation. “Hey ladies, I’ll have you know the Gabe train is in full operation, ready to give you the best ride of your life: first one’s on me.”
They both glared at him as he winked, earning Gabriel a laugh from both Crowley and Jimmy.
“Losing your touch there, mate.”
“Women don’t know a good thing when they see it.”
Wallowing in his mock sorrow, Gabriel popped a Jolly Rancher in his mouth.
Jimmy sighed. “I need to find a new job…maybe some place where my personal life doesn’t make the front page of the in office Inquirer.”
“I heard some secretarial positions have opened up at Wallace and Palmer’s,” Gabriel offered helpfully.
“I’ve got connections there, though I hear the Communications department is one giant frat party; piss poor management and sluggish workers, nothing ever gets done,” Crowley said. “Oh, and avoid going to Balthazar Flynn: bloke’s always shagging his secretaries, male or female, and wife’s got her panties in a bunch over the affairs. He’s going through a messy divorce right now and is a bit off the rails with his coke habit.”
“…how is it you know everyone in this city?”
“I make connections with everyone worth knowing. Comes in handy.”
“The bottom line: no one’s personal life is safe from Crowley,” Jimmy said.
“The bird finally gets it.” Pausing, Crowley glanced down at his watch. “Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I have a date with a bottle of scotch in my office. Let Smith know I’d like to reschedule our 2 o’clock to 3 next Tuesday.”
Jimmy jotted down the message on his notepad, brows furrowing. He looked over Dean’s schedule and began shaking his head. “Not sure Mr. Smith will be able to do that. He’s got a full day on Tuesday.”
Irritation seeped into Crowley’s voice. “Then make it Wednesday.”
“Is 1:30 okay?”
“Perfect, love. If Smith throws a hissy fit, he knows where to find me.”
Jimmy finished jotting down the message.
“Bugger me, it’s only half past,” Crowley groaned. “Bloody day’s never gonna end. I’ll be seeking that drink now.”
Crowley waved and made his retreat, his usual swagger taking him over to the elevators to one of the upper floors. Once he was out of earshot, Gabriel continued chatting up Jimmy to kill time.
“So, boss not in today?”
Jimmy was updating Dean’s schedule on the computer, nodding while his eyes were glued to the screen and his fingers flew over the keyboard. “Meeting with upper management. Mr. Adler is introducing Dean to the CEO of Sandover and Bridge today.”
Gabriel whistled. “Damn, Smith’s playing with the big leagues now. Methinks a promotion be in the making.”
“I’m keeping my fingers crossed,” Jimmy responded, shy smile on his lips. “He works so hard; he deserves it.”
“Aww…you’re so cute when you gush over your man.” Gabriel reached over the desk to pinch Jimmy’s cheek, Jimmy dipping his head out of the way and swatting Gabriel’s hand. Gabriel chuckled. “Guess tonight you two will be celebrating more than the start of a budding relationship, huh? Give it to him good in the bedroom, Jim. Make me proud.”
Jimmy’s cheeks flared, his unfortunately pale skin unable to disguise the heat that spread across his face. “…shouldn’t you be working, Gabriel?”
“Always ruining my fun.”
Jimmy ignored Gabriel’s mock pout.
“Alright, bro, I’ll leave you to your work. Try not to have too much fun without me.”
As Gabriel made to leave, Jimmy’s eyes caught sight of the letter poking out of the back pocket on his ‘man purse’ (as Dean often jokingly refers to it as) nestled underneath his desk. A cold tingle crawled down Jimmy’s spine, that familiar sense of dread gripping his lungs so tightly, he momentarily felt as if he couldn’t breathe.
Glancing up at Gabriel’s retreating form, Jimmy called out, “Hey, Gabriel?”
Gabriel paused. “Yeah, Jim?”
“If there’s…if you know someone…someone who you think wants to hurt somebody you care about, what would you do?”
Chapter 4