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timed to Christmas

It was Angua's third Christmas, and the Vimes family's recent disappearance only made it more imperative, in her opinion, to have a party to be thankful for those who were still here, to remember those who had left, and those who had never been here at all. Christmas was a time for family and being together, which was why those beloved were gathered, the smell of freshly cooked and baked food filling the (somewhat over-decorated) hut.

It was her favorite time of the year, something she'd not thought of during Hogswatch, and she could only hope everyone else enjoyed themselves as well.

[mailbox]

Angua promises not to bite the mailman.

Jun. 22nd, 2010

Angua had promised Dean plenty of sex when they got home. Which they did, eventually. A mile and five aborted attempts later, and Angua had finally wrangled Dean inside their hut.

"That is one powerful brownie," she said, closing the door behind them.
Angua was heading back from patrol, Gavin padding along behind her. "Such a lazy beast, you," she muttered, ignoring the heat on the back of her neck. Surely her poor excuse for a wolf could do the same. Maintain a little dignity.

He muttered something in return, and she rolled her eyes, mouth opening to reply when she saw Dean up ahead. He was red-faced and sweaty, eyes bugged in a strange way. Her eyebrows drew down along with the corners of her mouth. "Dean?" she called.

Gavin's ears perked and he finally stopped dragging his feet, hurrying over to Dean to see what all that smelly fear was about.

Post-Valentine's Day!

Dean and Roger had both come home a little drunk last night. Angua had forced water and Tylenol down their throats for their own good, and because Roger had come into their part of the hut instead of his own with seemingly no intention of leaving, she put them both to bed.

After she'd done away with their shoes and pants, Dean pulled her down to join them. Well, it was better than sleeping on the couch, and it wasn't like it was the first time they'd all shared a bed.

So it wouldn't have been an issue, really, except that in the morning Roger's bony knee was digging into her back. She let out a grunt and shoved at it. "Roger," she scolded, and turned, meeting his newly opened eyes with her own.

Oh.

Oh my. No, it wasn't an issue at all...
Angua got up early to bake, but Dean was still sleeping by the time she came back into the bedroom. Smiling to herself, Angua set the fresh cherry crumble pie on the small dresser next to the bed so that it would be the first thing he smelled upon waking. She shrugged out of her clothes and tunneled under the covers to climb on top of him.

"Dean," she said in a light, sing-song voice, "old man? It's your birthday." She kissed his jaw. "Time to wake up..."

Oct. 18th, 2009

takes place after this


Angua watched Dean come in and get Jess, disappearing right back out the door without so much as a word to her or Roger or O-Ren. Something was definitely wrong, and Angua stood as if to follow him, but never ended up going out that door.

When Dean came back in he looked as pale as the first time, his face a careful mask, one that she knew and immediately set off warning signs. She was about to tell Roger and O-Ren to leave, even if it was their house too, when Dean walked past all of them, into the bedroom.

"Well, shit," she said under her breath. Roger and O-Ren looked as concerned as she did, and she frowned at them before following Dean into the room.

"Dean?" she asked, closing the door behind her. "What's going on?"

homeplot

Angua came back into Dean's room after doing her best to feed water to Roger and O-Ren, and frowned when she saw Castiel in his usual chair, arms braced on his legs and head tipped down. Probably praying.

"Castiel," she started to say, trying to keep her voice even, "shouldn't you go eat?"

Castiel looked up slowly, blue eyes large and miserable. It wasn't that Castiel was a bad person. Angua liked him enough. He obviously cared an awful lot for Dean, and though he still seemed to have a lot to learn about people, she knew he meant well.

"I'm not hungry," Castiel said, almost like a petulant child, and Angua sighed. She couldn't even suggest he go take care of Mimi, because he'd brought the dog with him. She was asleep next to Black Dog on the floor at the end of Dean's bed.

"Be that as it may," Angua continued, jaw clenched, "I need to sleep."

Castiel just stared at her.

"Which means you need to leave!" she burst. She didn't mean to, really, but she was reaching the end of her rope and she was tired of having Castiel underfoot, gazing at Dean like Dean was his entire world. Like Dean was dead and would never recover.

Castiel stood, but his eyes narrowed. "Dean is my charge," he said, his voice coming out in a deep rumble.

"Not anymore. Look, whatever was going on with you two back home, it's not happening here. You don't have to protect Dean from demons because there aren't any. This isn't something you or God can save him from."

Angua felt bad for a moment at the stricken look that flashed across Castiel's face, but then he was crossing the room and fixing her with the most intense glare she'd ever been subjected to. She gave it right back, refusing to submit to him.

"Did you see the handprint on Dean's shoulder when you were in our world?" he asked, looming and more intimidating than Angua would care to admit. "It was mine. I saved him from Hell. He is my charge, no matter where he is."

"Dean is mine," Angua growled, taking a step closer. She knew she couldn't keep this staring contest up for long. Black Dog told her Dean had been in Hell, how he had screamed for Sam and Bobby and his father. She'd tried to put it out of her mind, and now all she could feel was devastation mixed with relief. She wanted to hold onto the thought that Dean had been saved, if there was a Dean still in his world, he was alive.

Castiel looked pained. "I am not trying to take him from you, I just...want to be near him."

"Fine. Fine, but not tonight. I need to be alone, don't you understand?" she said, fighting back tears.

"No," Castiel answered, and his head hung a little, but he walked out the door, throwing her one last look over his shoulder before she heard his steps cross the living room and leave the hut. Angua gently closed the bedroom door, and returned to the bed. She sat down on the edge, just looking for a long moment before climbing in. She curled herself around Dean, and if she cried at least there was no one there to see it.
Angua woke slowly, and it was like the first day on the island, that loss of self leaving her feeling strange and wrong. That return to the feeling of being human startled her and she sat up. She was greeted with the now-familiar sights of her and Dean's bedroom.

Dean was sprawled out next to her on his stomach. Their clothes from his world were gone. Around them were signs that others had been there, and though she felt oddly weak, she was okay.

Angua breathed a sigh of relief. She missed her old self, at times, but she liked it better here. It would take a lot for her to admit it to anyone else, but she liked being human. Mostly, she knew, because of Dean, but she wasn't going to go announcing that.

So what was the past two days, some sort of crazily realistic shared dream? Or had she been the only one actually experiencing it? Maybe Dean hadn't been there at all, she'd just made them up in her head.

She looked back over at Dean, reluctant to wake him. At least when they had been in his world, if he had actually been there too, there was a chance of finding Sam. Here Sam would still be gone with nothing to be done about it.

Jul. 18th, 2009

Angua tried to focus on other things. Things that weren't Dean, and how wrecked Dean was feeling, and how wrecked he was going to feel, because their search? Wasn't uncovering anything.

The problem was, they were doing a whole lot of walking and looking, but not a whole lot of talking. There was too much time to think, and her mind went back to Dean as he cut to the right without bothering to say a word, like he didn't care if they were there or not.

Losing Sam would be like losing a part of himself, she suspected. It reminded her of Carrot, how Ankh-Morpork had carved itself a place in his heart, impenetrable, how he had helped shape the city into what it was. Dean's love for his brother was extremely strong, it was a part of him. Sam was a part of him, and they were who they were in large part because of each other.

She had long suspected she couldn't compete with Ankh-Morpork, so how was she going to make this better?

"Dean," Angua said, moving to his side. She held the canteen out. "Drink some. You're going to get dehydrated."