Consequences Part 5: Prize Fight

March 11, 2017Aebli Leave a comment

Part 5: Prizefight (Finale)

The Reader (Y/N) is threatened as Dean goes on to fight at finals. With Sam in the hospital, does Raphael have any more plans up his sleeve?

Characters: Boxer!Dean x Reader, Sam, Castiel, Bobby, Uriel, Raphael, Michael (Sorta), Claire and Jo, Crowley and friends

Warnings: Boxing violence, threats, slight cannon divergence

Word Count: 4700

Notes: I am describing Michael Mulligan more towards the way the archangel is depicted in art. Adam would not be in the same weight division as Dean, and I couldn’t find a good way to explain otherwise. Either way, I liked giving Michael Adam’s last name. Please enjoy and please like/comment/reblog. As always, my requests are open, and I’m going to need some as this series comes to a close. Bring me your obscure characters and receive a fic in any style (fluff, smut, angst) you like.

Bobby peaked his head out of the room. “Dean, he coming too.”

For a split second, Dean held back. Then he stepped forward, Y/N at his side.

Sam’s face was swollen from the repeated blows. His neck was in a brace. With the pillows wrapped around him, he looked smaller. No mean feat. Cas and Bobby stood to one side of the room, looking between the brothers. Y/N could feel Dean’s grip tighten, so she squeezed back. He blinked and looked down at their hands. He ran his thumb over her knuckles as he put on a smile.

“Heya, Sammy,’ he said softly.

Sam opened his eyes, which were thankfully not swollen shut.

“Hey, Dean. Y/N.” He tried to sit up further in the bed but Dean rushed forward to push him back down.

“You don’t need to move at all.”

Sam grunted in agreement. “How’d the after party go with Raphael?”

“I’m supposed to lose. Mulligan is one of theirs too.”

Bobby groaned. “Michael Mulligan?” He growled as Dean nodded. “I was afraid of that. Raphael’s got the northern canvas so tight I couldn’t get any information about the head of the ring. Style-wise, he’s good. He took out the Prince of Darkness in the south to win semifinals.”

“The finals aren’t for another week,” Sam said. “You’ll have plenty of time to…”

“To what, Sam? I’m supposed to lose.”

Sam looked at Dean with his nose wrinkled in confusion. Then he looked at Y/N, who focused her attention on the floor. “Oh.”

“And if it’s not Y/N, they’re going to come by the hospital for a visit. I can’t win.”

The hospital room swelled with silence as everyone tried to come up with a solution. No matter which way they turned it, an answer did not present itself.

All through the week, Cas left the Winchesters, Y/N, and Bobby at the hospital while he went back to the ring. His former injuries kept him from competing, but he still had his hearing. He talked to boxers from before the reign of Raphael, people who were still allies, but none of them knew any more information about Michael. He knew who he had to talk to, but it wasn’t going to be easy.

Uriel watched Balthazar like a hawk.

His only chance was to find him outside the ring. It was a weekend, and Balthazar wasn’t due to show for another hour, so Cas found a quiet corner and watched the others train. Even with a match that night, the guys were trying to keep loose. A while later, Cas knit his brow in confusion as a visitor came in followed closely by the boss’s satellite himself. Cas guessed the big man was Michael. He was broad shouldered and narrow waisted, strong but hard to hit. His knuckles were thick from breaking repeatedly, something Cas could see on several of the better boxers in the ring. He knew Michael was good, and Cas had never even seen him fight. If Uriel was with him, then Balthazar was without his traditional guard.

He left for Balthazar’s usual back entrance and waited outside. He grinned as the referee quickly rounded the corner and bumped into him.

“Castiel! Um, I’m going to be late for… something. Excuse me.” He tried to shoulder his way past, but Cas blocked his path.

“That something wouldn’t happen to be a meeting with Raphael’s northern progeny, would it?”

Balthazar was taken aback. He started to form an excuse but sighed instead. “What happened to this city, Cas?”

“Men with too much power and not enough chin took hold. What’s Raphael’s play?”

“You know I couldn’t tell you that, even if I did know.” Again, Balthazar tried to step by, and again Cas kept him from taking another step.

“Would you tell me if you knew? We used to be ring brothers.”

“I know that, but Raphael is different. I know I can trust you, but he’s got so many guys scared or in his pocket that I can’t trust my own shadow. If you make me late, I won’t even have that.”

Cas kept him from opening the door, drawing out a frustrated groan. “A hint. A guess. What do you think is going to be the plan?”

Balthazar sighed, kicking himself for not using another door. “I don’t think Dean is going to make it out of this fight. What nobody knows about the Prince of Darkness is that he’s tied up in his own hospital, practically in a coma. Michael fights for himself as much as he does for Raphael. If he knows Dean is public enemy number one, and that he’s going to get paid to make it look good… Dean better hope he’s got life insurance.” Balthazar took the moment of Cas’s shock to make his way inside, leaving Cas with a brain full of dark, swirling thoughts. Then he was off like a shot, only to lose consciousness as something hit him in the back of the head.

It was getting close to when Dean was supposed to show up to the ring, and they still had not heard from Cas. The final match was to be in the center of town, “neutral ground” between the rings. And it was in the middle for ease of fan access, meaning more money.

“Where is he? I told him hanging around the canvas all week wasn’t a good idea.” Dean was leaned against the wall, but Sam was counting down to when he would start pacing.

Y/N saw the look and stood to keep him from starting. “Maybe he’s found something out. You know we could use the information, and good information takes time. If you don’t think he’ll make it back in time…”

“No. If Castiel doesn’t show up, you are going to stay here with Sam.”

“Like hell, I am.” She poked him in the chest, smirking as he raised an eyebrow. “No more polite doormat, remember? And that goes for speaking to you too.”

“The plan is to not let them catch us together.” He took her hand from its position on his chest and held it in his, noting its delicateness. His voice fell, borderline to a breaking point. “I’m not going to let them force you to watch the match from the office. And I don’t trust Uriel not to…” Dean glanced at Sam, who nodded in agreement.

“I’ve convinced one of the nurses to bring in a radio,” Sam said. “You won’t miss a second of the match, and afterwards Bobby is going to sneak in some drink from his prohibition days,” he added with a grin.

Dean looked down at her, his eyes begging her to stay. She shook her head, punching out as much air from his chest as a blow from Cole.

“I am not staying here. Now, Dean Winchester, are you going to let me ride with you, or are you going to call me a cab?”

He sighed and walked over to the phone, dialing the number. “Hello, I would like to call a cab to Southern Indiana State Hospital.” He looked at Y/N one last time as the receiver asked how many passengers.

“Just two.”

Black faded into a bright white before fading once again into black. Castiel continued to blink slowly, bringing the world into focus. He found himself laying under the stars in the back alley. He launched to his feet instantly regretting moving too fast. He steadied himself against the wall while thinking over what Balthazar told him. As soon as he could see straight, he made his way to the street and hailed a cab.

“So, are we undercover, or…?” Jo whispered to Y/N. She took the bag of popcorn from the vendor and passed it to Claire.

“No. Dean didn’t want to leave me alone. He’s so sure the opposition will do anything to get to him, even if we haven’t been seeing each other long.” It wasn’t the whole truth, but it was enough when coupled with free tickets to the fight.

“Do you think we could continue to get tickets even if he loses? Ouch.” Claire rubbed her shoulder where Jo smacked it. Y/N grinned. The world could be ending and these two would never change.

From the corner of her eye, Y/N spotted a ruffled top of black hair towering over everyone else. “Castiel!” She waved at him till he located her, but took as step back as he stormed over to her.

“Y/N, where’s Dean?” He gripped her arms tight and pulled her to one side of the crowd. “Why are you alone?”

“He’s in his locker room getting ready. And I’m not alone, I’m with my roommates. Castiel, this is Jo and Claire.” She nodded to the girls as they caught up.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he rushed out. “We’ve got to get to Dean.”

“Why, what did you… hey girls?” Y/N turned to Jo and Claire as Cas let go of her. “Go ahead and claim our seats. They’re assigned for the night, but people might try to fight the system.”

“What about… sticking to you?” Claire asked, looking leerily at Castiel, who mirrored her expression.

“I’m with Cas. You had to hear some of that, he’s a friend of Dean’s. And he’s a boxer, so I’ll be well defended.” She laughed when they didn’t budge. “Just go.” Y/N waited till they were halfway to their seats before continuing. “Okay, so what did you hear?’

“Balthazar thinks Dean’s not going to make it out of the fight alive.”

“Balthazar Smith? The referee?”

“Yeah. He’s usually under Uriel’s thumb, but he’s been getting squirrely lately. He doesn’t like how the matches have turned in this last season.”

Y/N hummed in thought. Mostly to herself than to Cas she asked, “would he be squirrely enough to…?”

“No.”

“What?” She brought her attention back up to Cas. “I didn’t even finish my thought.”

“Dean told me about that face. He said you promised him…”

“I did. But he claimed nobody would talk. If Balthazar would talk, maybe he could inspire the rest of the guys too. Do you know which ones would be willing?”

Cas pursed his lips. “I can name several, but a greased palm could take this plan out before it got started.”

“And you? If you could help make sure no other boxers get hurt because of Raphael, would you do it?” Y/N watch his face as it contorted between ‘yes’ and ‘hell no.’ She grinned as he slid into a hesitant ‘yes.’ “Good. Now, where’s a phone?”

The door swung open as Bobby was helping Dean into his colors, John’s fighting coat. Uriel floated in. His smug mug made Dean want to punch it. Then again, it could be not smug and Dean would still want to punch it.

“So, tonight’s the night you retire. I’m sorry to see you go, Winchester.”

“I’m sure you are.” Dean turned to let Bobby check his gloves, counting the seconds till he would leave.

“Aren’t you going to ask what the script is? For old time’s sake.”

Dean groaned through gritted teeth. “What’s the script?”

“I’m going to miss that. And I’m going to miss seeing you bloodied in the ring. The fifth, Winchester. And stick to it this time. We’ve got all your aces.” He left before Dean could give a retort.

Bobby let go of his gloves and snapped in front of Dean’s eyes. “What did you decide?”

“Sam says I should fight to win. Y/N says I should fight to win. But I have this stone in my stomach telling me I should follow the plan one last time and maybe nobody gets hurt.” He paused for a moment, letting his next question float around a bit, hoping Bobby would answer it before he could ask.

Bobby knew that look. He’d seen it when John asked him to help him start the ring. He never could turn down a Winchester.

“Balls. I think you should fight to win too.” He stopped a grinning Dean from saying anything. “But don’t let that make you sloppy. Michael’s a hard hitter. Block your stomach and guard your face. You’re buying the first round tonight if you let him cut open your eye again.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright. They should call soon, so show me your shadow punches.”

Y/N slapped the side of the receiver. “Please, it’s urgent. I need to speak to the Captain.” Cas looked at her through the door to the phone box. She waved away his worried glance.

“I can’t just let you through ma’am. We have…”

“Oh, just put her through,” an accented voice said in the background. “Line two if you can manage it.” There was a buzz and a click before she heard the voice again. “Captain Crowley of Chicago PD. What can I do for you today miss…?”

“Y/N. You have to stop the match at LaMotta Arena tonight.”

“And why would I do that? Maybe I’ve got some money riding on one of them myself.”

The statement made her stop cold. She pushed through the idea that Uriel had gotten to him. “Because I know you would love a chance for some good publicity. I’ve got songbirds for you, Captain. Good ones. Break up the fight tonight and you’ll have a massive shot at something bigger than you’ve ever caught before.” A little Hollywood, maybe, but it was worth a shot. Y/N waited with baited breath as the line remained silent for a hot minute.

“Do you have a songbird nearby that I can talk to?”

She held the mouthpiece to her shoulder and exhaled. She motioned for Cas to come into the phone box. She handed him the phone and shut the door, taking her turn to stand guard. He came out a few minutes later looking pale and relieved at the same time.

“He’ll do it. He’s rounding up a squad and he’ll be here by the fifth round. He can’t make it any sooner.” Cas chuckled. “Considering the speed of the force in other incidents, this will be like lightning.”

As they walked to the seats, Y/N asked, “how do we get the news to Dean?” They looked up as the doormen gave the five-minute warning.

“We don’t. If this goes south, it will look better on the Uriel side if he doesn’t know. I’ll find a way to signal Bobby.”

Y/N shook her head to silence Jo and Claire’s questions as they found their seats. The buzz was quieting down before the announcer stepped towards the ring. Dean and Michael were still in their tunnels, awaiting the call.

“Remember what I said, keep your face blocked, and jab him before he can jab you.”

“You said that already. Any more times and I’ll hear it in my sleep. Ow.” Dean flinched as Bobby smacked him up the backside of his head.

“Don’t get smart. I was there when you were brought into the world, I don’t want to be here when they take you out. Don’t let it be tonight, Dean.”

They both looked towards the ring, glowing outside the comforting dark of the tunnel. The announcer was calling out the usual pleasantries and requesting that nobody smoked.

“Bobby?”

“Yeah.”

“No matter what happens, thank you for all you’ve done for me and Sam.”

Bobby nodded and patted Dean on the back. Then they walked out into the lights as Dean’s name was called.

“In this corner is Dean ‘Raisin’ Cain’ Winchester! Weighing one hundred and seventy-five pounds and wearing the black shorts with the white stripe. He wears his father’s, John Winchester, colors tonight as he makes his way to the ring.”

Y/N craned her neck to see him, but there were too many people. Even as he made his way under the ropes, people had their arms in the air cheering for them.

“In the other corner is our other semi-finalist for tonight, Michael “Feather Feet” Mulligan. Weighing one hundred seventy-two and a half pounds and wearing the white shorts with black stripes. He wears the red and gold colors on his way to the ring.”

Y/n could see him plain. He was like Cas described to her earlier. He didn’t bounce or shadow-box his way to the ring, just walked. Marched to it. Like this was the battle that he intended to win the war with. Y/N sent up a prayer to anyone who was listening that Dean could hold him off till Captain Crowley and the squad arrived.

Deana and Bobby met Michael and his trainer in the middle of the canvas.

Balthazar swallowed a throat-full of air and asked for a fair fight. He had them bump gloves, then sent them to their corners. The match hadn’t even started yet and he was already sweating. He jumped as the opening bell rang.

Dean bounced out to meet Michael. They jabbed out at each other, testing the range of their opponent. Michael landed the first hit, glancing off the side of Dean’s head. He followed with a quick series of one-twos to Dean’s ribs before Dean could catch him in a clinch. Michael continued to reach up to land blows to his head, which Dean returned till Balthazar separated them with difficulty.

Dean saw his opening as Michael reached in for his face. It glanced off his cheek, allowing Dean to dig in close and land several blows to Michael’s torso before ending with a sweeping uppercut. Michael staggered back. He nodded with a mouth-guard smile.

Y/N sat on the edge of her seat in silence as the crowd around her screamed for their favorite. She kept her eyes on Dean as he circled Michael, bobbing and looking for a way in. She cringed as Michael swooped in to get Dean in a clinch. He thundered hits into Dean’s ribs until Balthazar separated them again.

“Come on Dean,” she whispered. Dean’s reaching blows kept being warded off by Michael’s glove. He stayed just out of reach, circling to Dean’s outside.

The crowd spun behind Michael and Dean watched his gloves for the next blow. Dean reached out as Michael did, giving a glove to the face as he received one. Then he zoomed into Michael’s chest, firing them as fast as he could till the bell rang.

He backed away to meet Bobby.

“That was good. Keep wearing him down. Try to aim lower, more to the stomach.”

Dean nodded as he took his mouth guard back, standing with the bell.

Sam pumped a fist into the air as the commentator relayed the fight.

“The pace is fast as ever, and the fight is even-Steven. Raisin’ Cain trying to drive those hard jabs into the body and face. Mulligan trying to get in murderous body blows of his own.”

He listened to the exchange of hits wired down to him. It sounded like rain on a tin roof, but Sam knew from experience how hard those drops could be. He flinched at a particularly heavy one, only to happily crow as the commentator kicked back in, laughing as a frowning nurse walked by.

“Winchester landing a seriously solid blow to Mulligan, doubling him over. Mulligan retreating to catch his breath. He’s still got that smile, though, enjoying the match. If he turns it one like he did in his last bout, Winchester will have to pick up his step. Otherwise, Winchester’s got this in the bag.”

It was too easy. Dean kept his distance when he could. Michael was encroaching on his space, making himself easy to hit, while at the same time limiting Dean’s ability to pull back for a harder hit. Dean bounced back as Michael round housed a blow into his ear. Dean shook his head through the ringing. He looked over Michael’s shoulder at Bobby to see if the ringing was outside or inside his head. He bit down harder on his guard when Bobby stayed on the floor.

Michael chased Dean to the ropes, cinching him again and hammering blows into Dean’s torso. Dean kept his abs tight, minimalizing the impact. But he took a second to take his breath back as Balthazar pulled Michael away. The bell rang, ending round three.

Bobby continued his flow of advice, but Dean barely heard it. He kept his gaze level as Michael stared at him from his own corner.

As they came out for the next round Dean could feel a shift in the air. Michael twisted his hips, putting his other foot in front. Michael advanced towards Dean quickly, too fast for Dean to retreat. He pulled back then released a hard uppercut into Dean’s chin.

Dean fell back into the ropes. The lights above him swam in circles. He could see a blurred Balthazar racing forward to stop Michael, but the blows to his upper chest hit first. The lights gave way to the canvas rushing up to meet him. He gasped for air, though his lungs burned and sent magma towards his heart. He landed on his gloves and knees, shuddering with the fall. He realized he made a mistake as he looked up, taking Michael’s jab to his face, sending him collapsing onto his shoulder. The world was ringing and glowing and moving like molasses, but Dean fought to climb up the ropes.

Y/N sat down as Dean wobbled to his feet. She could feel three concerned faces to either side of her but kept her gaze on Dean. He stumbled out into the center, pulling up his gloves as Michael attacked him again. She clenched her hands in her lap as Dean sent out weak jabs.

The police will be here soon. The police will be here soon. Please, God, let the police be here soon.

Dean felt Bobby catch him as the bell rang, ending the fourth round. He spat out the guard into Bobby’s hand.

“This guy is incredible,” he slurred, sputtering bloody spittle into the bucket. “It’s gonna be a hell of six more rounds.” He grinned sideways at Bobby, who didn’t fully grin back. He gave Dean back his guard and pulled his gloves over his face. Bobby pushed Dean to his feet as the bell rang. If he wanted to end with any shred of dignity, he would dive this round.

To hell with dignity. Time to clip those Feather Feet.

Dean brought his gloves together to catch Michael’s jabs. He shot out one, landing it to Michael’s crown. Michael rushed in, cinching Dean’s arms to his side and towering over him. He backed off before the ref could intervene, but circled back around. He was able to keep an arm loose as Michael trapped him again. He jabbed at Michael’s upper ribs, but it made his arm shudder to hit him. He was forced back into a corner, his shoulder blades dug into the iron pins. His breath was coming out in pants. Dean could feel Michael grinning at the labored rise and fall of his chest, too punch-happy to see it himself.

Michael let Balthazar push him back and waited for Dean in the middle. He shared a look with Balthazar. Dean wasn’t going to make it out in one piece even if he did fall now, the exchange proved it.

Dean took a breath, then launched himself at Michael. He didn’t keep his hands up as Michael pummeled his face. He didn’t let the blows make him retreat. He didn’t reach to hit back. He just forced his way into the center of the ring and stared Michael down.

“Oh no.” Cas moaned.

“What? What does that mean?” Y/N asked, tugging on his sleeve.

“Please Dean, don’t,” was all she could get out of him.

Dean buckled as Michael rained down hits to his back. He shouldered his way into Michael’s chest, forcing him backwards. He didn’t stop till Michael’s arms flew back as his spine collided with the opposite corner pins. Dean pulled back, then sent in as many punches as he could into Michael’s stomach till Balthazar pushed him away.

Michael roared through his guard and chased after him. He was hunched over, but that didn’t stop him from repeatedly sending his glove into Dean’s face. Dean squared his stance, refusing to give any ground even as his head snapped back with each hit. Michael started using both gloves, the other going into Dean’s chest cavity. His torso rippled with pain till his heart’s thumping turning into one long throb. With a deep breath that burned through him harsher than cheap whiskey, Dean swung. Michael spun and fell.

He turned and walked away a few steps as Balthazar swooped in to count. Dean dropped into the canvas as the bell rang, ending round five and the match. He found Y/N’s face as he fell, missing the swarm of police officers that rushed in through every door and tunnel.

His vision bounced and faded to black as pandemonium erupted around the arena.

Raphael stood by his window drinking his hardest Scotch as someone knocked on his door.

“Enter,” he said, watching the police round up his officials and gamble men. Dean stayed where he fell, unswarmed as people tried to avoid being handcuffed. Michael rolled out of the ring and got caught by a tunnel.

“Raphael, it’s been too long.”

He turned and watched Crowley step into his office. “Evening, Captain. Have I not been paying you enough?”

Crowley shook his head. “Not on your payroll. Not one copper.”

“Shame. Would you like to be?”

He thought for a second, eyeing the liquor stand next to a silent Uriel. “No.” He helped himself to some ice and a drink as two sub-officers walked in. “Cuff ‘em tight, boys. They’re slippery.” His revolver was in Uriel’s chest before he could surge forward.

Y/N fought her way to the ring, sliding under the ropes to get to Dean. Bobby was fighting his through the cops, trying to explain whose trainer he was. Dean’s face was pale despite the beating, and his lips were purple.

“No. Don’t do this to me. Dean Winchester, you wake up right now or… or… or I’m going to slap you.”

She let out a shuddering breath as he continued to do nothing. With a screech, she slapped him across the face, instantly bringing her hands to cover her sob.

“I take it I didn’t win if you’re hitting me,” Dean mumbled with his eyes still closed.

Y/N fell over his chest, crying with an irritated smile. “Don’t you ever fall like that again.”

Dean leaned up with a groan. “Does that mean there’ll be a next time?” His eyes glowed like candle-light through a bottle, mischievous. “You’re not ordering me to stop boxing?”

She sighed. “Hell, no. It’s who you are. Besides, my roommates want free tickets for the rest of their lives. Can’t keep up unless I’m dating a boxer.”

They shared a grin before Y/N helped him over to the edge. They sat and watched the chaos around them. On other sides of the apron, Jo and Claire cheered the police, and Bobby and Castiel laughed.

“I’m sorry you won’t get the belt,” Y/N said. “They’ll probably have a whole ‘nother season to figure this out, won’t they?”

“I don’t need a belt,” Dean said, kissing the top of her head.

“I wouldn’t be so sure that you lost it,” Crowley butted in, fighting with a handcuffed, gagged, and fuming Uriel. “The way that several of the witnesses have been singing, you’ve been fighting for real for the whole season. If that story keeps floating around, you might get the belt by default. Congratulations, Winchester.” He nodded at Dean and winked at Y/N, then disappeared into the crowd.

They laughed and Dean wrapped his arm around Y/N’s shoulder.

“Are we still celebrating with Bobby’s booze and Sam?”

“Yeah. He’s gonna be frosted he missed all this.”

It took an hour or so, but they finally made it to the hospital where Sam was, indeed, incredibly angry that he missed the chaos. They had him calmed down to irritated within a few drinks.

Masterlist

Consequences Part 4: Rabbit Punch

February 24, 2017Aebli Leave a comment

Uriel and Raphael make sure that Dean pays for his insubordination… with Sam’s bout.

Characters: Reader (Y/N), Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, Uriel, Raphael, Cas, Virgil

Warnings: Boxing Violence, gun mention, blood mention, hospitalization

Word Count: 3200 (Sorry. Worth it.)

Note: Sorry this got out a little later than usual. If you can believe it, even this isn’t the climax to everything. Let me know how you like it by commenting, reblogging, and liking my fic. I hope you guys enjoy it!

Dean was buttoning up his shirt when Sam burst in.

“Jeez, Sam, can’t you…”

“Uriel’s goons are coming down the hallway.”

Dean and Bobby shared a glance. “Bobby, take Sam and get to the ring; don’t let him out of your sight. They won’t hurt him before, they might try afterward. Sam, watch Bobby’s back while he watches yours and get out of here. They don’t need to see you warning me.”

Sam nodded and waited for Bobby by the door, keeping an eye on the hall.

Bobby clapped Dean on the shoulder, “Be careful, boy. Get out to the crowd if you can.” He and Sam left.

Dean finished his tie. He wasn’t going to rush. Maybe a little. He grabbed his hat and coat and almost made it to the arena entrance before they caught up to him, one running up behind him and two blocking his path.

“Come on, Winchester,” the back one said, poking something hard into Dean’s spine.

“I hope that’s a gun you’re packing back there,” Dean grumbled.

“No,” one of the front guys said pulling out his own pistol, “he’s just happy to see you.”

From her seat on the second row, Y/N twiddled her thumbs and bounced her knee waiting for Dean. He’d won, like what was agreed. Dean wondered on their way over if Cole was going to fight for real to go to the finals himself.

“You’re making me nervous, Y/N,” Cas chuckled.

“Oops. Why isn’t he back yet?”

“It takes a while to shift into civilian clothes. There’s a lot of cleaning to get the ring stench off.”

She sighed. “I’ll appreciate it… when he gets here.” She didn’t stop twiddling and bouncing.

Uriel pulled Dean into Raphael’s office, pistol whipping him to the floor. “You’re done breaking contract, Winchester.”

Dean rubbed his jaw and stood to his feet. “You said the win was mine, that Cole would take a dive. If anyone’s broken their word, it’s you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Dean,” Raphael growled from his desk, “you have been nothing but disrespectful. Uriel told me what happened this morning. Yes, you took your win fair and square, but you can’t leave the ring without paying your dues. Since Cole didn’t finish taking it out of your hide, our visitor is going to take it out of Sam’s.”

Uriel had the gun pinned to Dean’s ribs before he could launch forward. “You want me to pay? Then let Cole finish it out back. Sam stopped being part of the deal…ugh.” Uriel jabbed the muzzle further into Dean’s side.

“Just shuddup and watch. We’ve even got a perfect seat for you.” He shoved Dean towards a bar stool set up by the window. Dean looked down over the crowd and into the ring. Bobby was double checking Sam’s gloves. Dean took a split second to find Y/N and Cas, letting out a relieved breath to see her safe. Uriel forced Dean to sit down, then laughed, “enjoy the fight.”

The final people rushed to their seats as the announcer stepped into the ring.

“Ladies and gentlemen, our stadium’s trumpeter will play our National Anthem.”

Everyone in the stadium stood. Dean shot a look at Uriel as he stood too, but he didn’t turn his attention to the flag. He was too busy boring a hole into Castiel’s head, hoping that somehow he could get his attention.

As the Anthem finished with applause and whistles, Castiel looked up towards the office, growling to see Uriel backlit, and hovering over Dean’s shoulder in the window. He caught Bobby’s eye and directed him towards Dean, then turned to Y/N. “I don’t know how much of this you know, but Dean’s not going to sit with us.” He nodded up to the office, making Y/N gasp. Cas barely caught her in time to help her into her seat as her knees buckled. “They won’t kill him, he’s got to attend finals. They can still make money off him, but be ready to run just in case.”

The announcer spoke into the mic, “the officials appointed by the State Athletic Commission are: the attending physician attending at the ringside, Dr. J.D. Houston, the timer at the bell, Bill Stapleton, counting after knockdown, Bill Doty, the judges, Mike McAddams, and Captain A.R. Dowdy, and the referee, Balthazar Smith. The contestants: 10 rounds at 158 from Kansas, wearing white trunks with a black tracer, and weighing 183, Sam Winchester, the defending Cruiserweight Champion. And his opponent,” the announcer pulled a card out of his pocket and began to read, “from St. Louis, Missouri, weighing 182 and one-half, and wearing black and red trunks, Virgil Akins. Referee Balthazar Smith will now give the contestants their instructions.”

Balthazar stepped to the middle and ushered Sam and Virgil forward. He looked anxiously between them. He laid out the rules like he always did, but somehow the words “I want a clean fight” meant more. “Now go to your opposite corners, and at the bell come out fighting.”

The bell rang and the radio reporter in front of Y/N and Cas launched into action. “This is the opening round, and this is the chance of the spectators, as well as the fighters, to study style. This is a brilliant audience on hand, half of Chicago must be crowded into the space, and the other half listening at home. Movie stars, politicians, and of course the fans all squeezed into the hall here. They’re all watching Virgil Akins use his unique jumping-jack style. Referee Smith cautions him for a kidney punch Akins lands on “Law Breaker” Winchester. He shows no fear of Winchester; in fact, he’s bullying him around the ring to say ‘I’m the boss in here.’ They are matched nearly pound for pound, and looking like one of the greatest fights this ring as ever seen.”

Sam was taller than Akins, giving the smaller man plenty of space to hit him. Y/N couldn’t help but see how the smaller man used it. She could feel Cas’s nervousness, and she could see Dean watching them from the office.

“Akins landing punches like he’s the boss and he knows it. Winchester biding his time, learning his opponent. Beautiful long left by Akin. But he’s doing the most damage while in Winchester’s clinches. Winchester digging for the body, trying to lower that guard as he towers over Akins who carries his gloves high. Protects his chin well. Glancing right off the cheekbone of Sam Winchester. There might be blood early, folks.”

Dean tensed as Sam staggered back, stunned. He kept the smile to himself as his brother then dove back in. Every second he was watching Sam, he was hyper aware of the firearm in his back.

“Winchester digging with light left jabs. Akins using an up and down elevator style, now each pushing leather gloves into each other’s faces in the clinch. Beautiful right and a left hook, making Winchester coming back on his heels then; that was a stiff punch. Those thumps are the punches in close that Winchester had a great deal of trouble smothering. A champion, Winchester, but up against a very unorthodox boxer. And that’s the bell ending the first round.”

They sat in their opposite corners. Sam showed Bobby his mouth. It wasn’t gushing yet, but Bobby and Cas knew it could become a problem. Cas explained how it could possibly even choke him around the mouth guard if it got too bad.

Y/N watched Virgil sit in his corner and noticed him glance up to the office behind Sam. Virgil shrugged at something his coach said and stood up, sending up a quick prayer as the next bell rang.

“Akins relaxed in his corner, whether it’s phycological warfare or not, we don’t know. But he’s acting like this is just another outing. He doesn’t have a care in the world. He’s crossed himself as the gong sounds and comes out ready for round two. Winchester has suffered some cuts inside his mouth. He keeps circling clockwise around Akins’s best punch and his stiffest hand. The one that does the most damage is the left as Winchester staggers back again. Winchester is angry now, nearly puffing smoke like a bull ready to charge. Winchester, maneuvering to land his combination punches, steps back but Akins moves in swiftly. Gives him no chance to take a step.

“Come on, Sam,” Dean mumbled. “I know we’ve worked on this.”

Uriel chuckled behind him.

“Winchester bends down in the same kind of a bob as Akins. But Winchester is mostly fighting standing up while Akins bobs up and down as a very difficult target. Akins is a natural middleweight, but he’s gained some heavy muscle to fight at the cruiserweight level. Winchester reaches out and lands on Akins’s face, snapping his head back! The crowd cheers for Winchester!

“Akins grins through his mouth guard, clearly enjoying himself. Winchester disinclined to fight too much in the clinches. Referee Smith keeps cautioning against the whipping punch over Winchester’s shoulder. A blow to the neck is a strong reason for disqualification and for being disbarred from boxing altogether. Winchester has very little success blocking that. Both men are now trying to out-feint each other. Winchester keeps reaching down for Akins, who backs away out of reach of the taller boxer. Akins uppercuts, but misses him by a mile. And that bell is round two.

Y/N kept her focus on Virgil. Something about him seemed off. She watched him as he shot a look towards Balthazar, who nodded back.

“Cas, something’s wrong.”

The bell rang over her worries, preventing her from sending any kind of warning to Sam.

“And here we go, round three, still at the start of this match but it’s been hot. Winchester has held his own against the bouncing Akins, and Akins is not being kept down due to the height difference. Akins is out maneuvering him at every turn. Of course, what he has is a good punch in either hand and a lot of strength in those clinches. Akins really pounds Winchester with that left hook; you can see Winchester’s back jarring from the blow.”

Y/N turned with a shout into Cas’s shoulder as Sam was knocked into the ropes. She peaked out and whispered, “come on Sam. Hold him off.”

“Winchester still in the fight, but a little feeble with that right, shoulder hurt. Akins paying no attention to Winchester’s cut mouth or shoulder pains. He has his man really studied. Akins swings in with a right lead just as Winchester was feigning with his shoulder. Winchester steadies himself on Akins’s shoulders, rolling them into the ropes. The ref separates them, but no rest. As soon as Winchester steps back to ready himself, boom, Akins moves right in on him. Winchester needs a little bit of a moment to prepare an attack, and that’s when Akins takes the moment, breaking his opponent’s flow. Winchester over stretches his stance, cinching Akins’s arms where he can, but Akin reaches up to beat him around the head. He almost hits the ref that time. Akin seems to back just out of punching range, then Boom, shoot in.”

Dean laughed as Sam’s glove made contact with Virgil’s waist, sending him jerking upwards from the force. “This guy is definably yours.”

“What makes you say that, Winchester?”

“All cheap shots and no gut. Sound familiar, Uriel?”

Uriel replied with a low growl and tightened his grip on the pistol.

Y/N was not listening to the reporter anymore but heard it all as background noise.

“Akins is remarkably hitting powerfully with each hand, favoring neither the right or left. Winchester sets himself to move around and hit with a hard right only. Now he’s moving in retreat. He hasn’t had a hard shot at Akins’s head other than one or two times so far, and it looks like Akins is going to keep it that way. And of course, Akins is not cut up or marked in any way. He keeps back just enough to make Winchester overreach, then leaps in, giving him a little pat in the ribs. Getting in the closing minutes now of the round. There’s a champion in that ring, only time will tell which man it is. Winchester still pounding away, right down to the last second. His face is bleeding, and he looks groggy already, but he’s still rapping away at the body. Oh! And down goes Referee Balthazar Smith!”

The audience and judges leapt to their feet as Balthazar went over the ropes and apron. Everyone’s view of the boxers was obscured by the person in front of them, and the front row people were craning to see Balthazar. Virgil took the moment of distraction to hit Sam in the back of the neck, then upper-cutting him to explain the fall.

Sam fell to the canvas with a thud. The counting ref swooped in and made it to ten and could have made it to thirty before Sam even groaned, but there was too much pandemonium to get him off the canvas. There’s was a deliriously happy crowd circling Virgil’s corner, already celebrating the win.

Bobby jumped into the ring and pushed everybody back as the announcer lifted Virgil’s arm high. The crowd’s cheers died down as the doctor followed him in, cracking Sam’s eyes open. The doctor shook his head and motioned for the cot to haul Sam to the hospital.

“Well that was some fighting, wasn’t it Dean?” Raphael said, relaxed in his office chair.

Dean was fuming. He stood, even as Uriel pressed the pistol to his temple. “You won’t shoot me. All those witnesses down there? And how are you going to explain why the semi-finalist is dead, no matter which way you throw it?”

Raphael nodded and motioned for Uriel to lower his gun. Uriel sneered and twisted it. “Uriel. Put it away,” Raphael commanded. When it was out of sight, Raphael poured himself another shot of bourbon. “Even with what’s unfortunately happened to Sam, you are still owed a congratulation. You’re going to the Amateur Finals, well done.”

“What’s your play, Raphael?”

“Michael Mulligan. Smart kid. Young in the face, I admit. But he’s got a fighting wisdom about him. Beat our darkest prodigal to meet you.”

“Do you ‘not own’ this one too?” Dean mocked.

Uriel piped up, “you are correct. Not even the heat knows we control that canvas, and we are going to keep it that way.”

Raphael down the last of his drink then walked to tower over Dean. “You are going to lose one last time, then retire. Make it look good and you can leave with a shred of dignity.” His voice dropped, sending an uneasy shiver down Dean’s spine. “You will throw it, Dean, or I will personally pay a visit to Sam and your girl to prove my point.” He grinned. “Now go see your brother, I think he’ll want to be seeing you.” Raphael turned away like nothing happened. Uriel stepped out of the way begrudgingly.

Dean was off like a shot.

Y/N considered her stomach to be a strong one, but when she finally caught up with Sam at the hospital, she almost fainted dead away.

“How is he?” Dean croaked, catching her as she swayed on her feet.

“Dean, you’re alright.” She embraced him, shivering against him. She met his gaze, holding his face in her hands. “He’s really beaten up, Dean. The doctor hasn’t said how bad yet.” Y/N felt her heart shudder in her chest as he closed his eyes in defeat.

“This is all my fault.”

“No, it isn’t.” Y/N surprised herself with how strong her voices sounded but kept going. “It’s not your fault. Or Sam’s fault, or anyone who is held under your bosses’ thumb. They are the ones deciding who lives and who dies. You have fought against their power and they are doing everything they can to crush you. They are afraid of you, Dean. You can’t stop now.”

“Y/N,” Dean choked, “they’ve threatened to come after you next if I don’t do what they say. I can’t keep doing this if you are at risk. I thought Sam would be able to hold his own, but they stooped lower than I ever thought possible. I can’t let them take a jab at you.”

Dean moved to walk away, but Y/N grabbed his vest.

“Don’t you walk away from me, Winchester. You need all the friends you can get right now.” She poked him in the chest, flicking it into his nose when he looked down at her. “Do you think they’ll leave me alone because you broke up with me? They may be a lot of things, but they are not stupid. I am safest with you, and Castiel, and Bobby, and Sam.” Y/N sighed and wrapped his arms around her before wrapping her arms around his waist. “You are strong with a support system. Sam knew what he was walking into, and you need people to watch your back. Don’t push us away.”

Dean chuffed and squeezed her closer. “How did you learn me so good, so quick?”

Y/N laughed into Dean’s chest. “Cas ratted on you. He’s worried you’ll do what you always do when trouble comes.”

“That jerk.” Dean rubbed his hand up and down her back. He kissed the top of her head, whispering into her hair, “thank you.”

The doctor stepped out of Sam’s room. “Mr. Winchester?”

“Yes, sir.” Dean let go of Y/N, but held onto her hand, focusing on not crushing her delicate fingers with his stress.

“Sam is going to pull through.” He gave Dean and Y/N a moment to let out a sigh of relief before continuing. “We’ll need to keep him her for a while, and we won’t know the full damage till some of tonight’s boxing wounds heal, but I really think he’s going to be alright. If I could confide in you, though,” he looked passingly at Y/N. Dean nodded for him to go on. “It is of my personal, and professional opinion that this man’s injuries were not caused by an upper cutting punch. If you have anyone you can trust, I have enough evidence to prosecute his opponent.”

Dean thought for a second. “Thank you, doctor. I’ll keep that in mind and in my pocket. Thank you.” The pair watched the doctor as he left.

“You’re going to try, right?” Y/N asked.

“No. Not yet. It’s enough for Virgil, not for the top level.” Dean looked at her, taking in how her focus listed to one side. “No. Y/N you can’t go to the police. Not yet. You promised.”

“And your boss promised you’d win with no ramifications too,” she snarked. “Fine. I won’t go. But the second we have something I’m the voice. You guys are too close. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Bobby peaked his head out of the room. “Dean, he coming too.”

For a split second, Dean held back. Then he stepped forward, Y/N at his side.

Part 5: Prizefight

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Consequences: Part 3 – Undercard

February 10, 2017Aebli Leave a comment

Y/N’s past hunts her down, and she finds out some of Dean’s secrets as well. Dean has to choose whether to fall or to fight.

Characters: Reader (Y/N), Boss Mr. Shurley, former ex, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Uriel, Cole Trenton, Raphael, Virgil, Castiel

Warnings: Boxing violence, abuse mention

Word Count: 3500+

Notes: I’m sorry I couldn’t finish the series in time for the Supernatural Fic Apocalypse, but I hope you like it and will look for it in the next few weeks. Tag lists, requests, and feedback comments are open. Enjoy!

Part 1: Ringside Part 2: Caution

Y/N aligned her pens and pencils for the day. It didn’t wasn’t much, but being a secretary paid the bills well enough. She pulled the weekend cover off the typewriter and ran her fingers over the keys. One day she would buy one for herself; then she could create magic.

Mr. Chuck Shurley waved at her as he entered his office. He hung his hat on the doorknob, a sign he didn’t want to be disturbed, and Y/N heard the door click as he locked it. She assumed it meant he had several submissions to look over. Being the boss of a small publication company meant he had final say over what they published. Y/N hoped that being secretary would help her out when she wrote her first piece.

Y/N, deep in thought over that dream, didn’t pay much attention to the suited man who walked up to her desk, hat in hand.

“Excuse me miss, does Y/N Y/L/N work here?”

His voice made her blood run cold. Y/N looked up and almost screamed. He was smartly dressed, but she knew what lived underneath. She reached for the button that would call security, but…

“Please don’t. I’m in, I’m out, I’m gone. Just hear me out.”

Her heart thundered in her chest as her finger hovered over her salvation. He walked around and took that hand in his. Y/N gasped in defeat. Maybe she could scream?

“When you left… I thought I would die. I got drunk every night till my mind cleared. It’s all my fault; I hurt you. I shouldn’t have.” He sank to one knee, “can you… will you forgive me?” The crouch pulled back his coat to reveal a vest holster. Words died on her lips. He chuckled nervously, “say something. Anything.” He let go of her hand to pull his jacket over the holster.

She took her chance. And pushed the security button. Mr. Shurley yanked his door open as your ex stood and pulled back his hand. Mr. Shurley saw you flinch and pushed him out of the way. She leapt to her feet and stood behind Mr. Shurley. ‘He’s got a gun,” She whispered as the guards ran in. They took him by the arms and led him out.

“I’m sorry, Y/N! Bitch! I said I was sorry!” His crying and cursing faded away, leaving Y/N shivering against the wall.

When Mr. Shurley turned, she burst into tears. “I’m sorry, sir. I thought I was far enough away. I didn’t mean to put anyone in danger. I…”

“It’s alright, Y/N. Is there anyone you can call to take you home? Preferably a man?”

“No… yes.”

“Hey, Winchester, some girl’s calling for you.”

Dean nearly ran to the training gym’s receiver, grinning through the whistling from the other guys. “Y/N. What I can I do for you?”

His face fell as he heard her broken voice on the other line. “Dean, can you come get me from work?”

“What’s wrong? I can be there in…”

“Winchester!” Uriel called out, motioning him to come to the ring.

Dean cursed under his breath. “I can send my brother. You know Sam, right? Will he be an okay second till I can get there?” Dean waited with baited breath till she answered.

“Yes.”

“I’ll send him your way and come as soon as I can get away. I promise.” Dean got her work and home address and sent Sam with a cab. He walked to the ring and said to Uriel, “say it quick. I’ve gotta leave.”

“Don’t rush me; We’ve got important matters to discuss.”

“Yeah, I know. Do what you say and everything will be peaches. I got that.” Dean stepped to walk away, but Uriel grabbed him by the collar. He spun him around to the row of seats surrounding the practice ring.

“Have a seat. There’s more to it.” He leaned against the apron, towering over seated Dean. “Raphael seems to be under the impression that you will follow orders better in the future if we give you this win.”

“Fantastic. Can I go now?”

“No. Cole, on the other hand, wants to beat you fair and square. While I am inclined to agree with him, there is a bit of a time constraint considering your fight is the undercard to Sam’s. So he’ll go down quick enough.”

“Great. I’ll be seeing you…” Dean tried to stand, but Uriel forced him back into the chair. Dean snarled, arms tensed and ready to share a few blows. From the corners of his eyes, he saw the other fighters in the gym look away.

Uriel chuckled and patted Dean’s shoulder. “Don’t think we don’t know where you’re running off to. We saw that sweet little miss you ran to the night this all went sideways. Your Sophie[1] can wait a few minutes. If you don’t think so, I can talk on the way over and explain personally why you’re late.”

“She doesn’t know anything. She doesn’t need to know.” Dean pushed Uriel’s hand off his shoulder, “and I am not just going to sit here while you threaten her. I’ll do your bidding, for Sam, but you’ll leave her out of this.” He turned and stalked away, grabbing his leather jacket off the hook next to the door.

“If you walk out that door now, Winchester, your career here or in any other boxing circle is finished.”

Dean looked over his shoulder at Uriel’s fuming face. “Then I guess after Cole’s rematch I’m done.” He slammed the door behind him.

Uriel punched the corner of the ring, making the rope post splinter around the edge. He scanned around, then found him. “Trenton! Get over here; we need to talk.”

“Thank you for bringing me home,” Y/N said from the couch. Jo and Claire were out at their own jobs, so Sam had taken it upon himself to make coffee. He brought her a cup, which she nearly dropped from her shaking hands. He took it back and sat it on the end table before sitting next to her.

“You’re going to be alright. Dean’s not going to let that creep anywhere near you. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s hunting down that bast-… the guy right now.” He glanced at his watch again, wondering what Uriel was holding him for.

“Why do you look worried?” Y/N asked with a nervous chuckle. “My ex is the one in danger.”

Sam shook his watch back under his sleeve. “Nothing. The boss was talking to him, and it didn’t look good.” Sam coughed, “not that you need to think about it too much. Probably a pep talk that couldn’t happen any later.” He handed her back the coffee mug, relieved it didn’t shake as much.

Y/N was thinking too hard for her hands to shake. Connections broke past her terrifying memories. “Are the fights rigged?” she blurted out.

Sam almost fell off the couch. “What? Why would you think that?”

“The guy at the dinner. He said the fights were faked.” Y/N nibbled her bottom lip. She handed the forgotten coffee back to Sam. In the contest, Dean was almost counted out, then he looked at her. She remembered the way his eyes gleamed, she thought in defiance of defeat. Maybe there was more to it. “Was he supposed to lose the fight I met him at?” She looked up at Sam when he didn’t answer. He tried to stand up, but she placed her hand on his thigh, freezing him in place. “Tell me the truth. Is it rigged?”

The front door clicked shut as Dean walked in. “Is what rigged?” He glanced at Sam, who was staring into the coffee mug. “You told her?” Dean shouted.

“I didn’t say anything!”

Y/N stood and walked over to Dean. At first, he looked down at her in shock, then glanced away before grabbing the door knob to leave.

“No. You’re not going anywhere till you tell me what’s going on.”

“Y/N…”

“Is this what you couldn’t tell me at the dinner?”

Dean met her gaze. His eyes darted between hers. With a sigh, he took off his hat and coat. “This is going to take a while.”

Y/N had no idea there was such thing as a family business in boxing. When their Dad died, the ring they owned would have gone under had it not been for Raphael. But he changed things. Everything. The easy thing about bribing the boys was he could always threaten to hurt the other if they stepped out of line.

“That’s why I don’t want to get you involved. I didn’t want to put you in danger.”

“I’m already in danger! But I would much rather have you on my side than have to battle anyone alone.”

Dean growled, “did they threaten you already? Is that why you called me?” He stood up and paced around the room. “That son of a… I’m going to rip his throat out.”

“No. It was my ex.”

Dean stopped. “The one you told me about?”

She nodded and told him about her morning. She couldn’t say his name. It withered and evaporated before it could reach her lips, frightened to summon the ghost into reality. Then the rest of her story spilled out. She told it like it was a common thing. Small town, no chance of escape. He was the better of the prospects. But the local bar made good money off men like him. The town rebuilt the police station next to it for easy access, it was so popular with guys quick to their fists. Y/N wasn’t sure how many people took the fights home with them. They’d been engaged. He almost lived in her parent’s house, but just short of paying rent. Their attic always seemed to smell of cheap whiskey. She left after just one episode, penniless and only possessing the clothes on her back, refusing to live in a place where denying to buy him a refill made him… she didn’t, couldn’t finish.

“I’m gonna rip his throat out too.”

“Please don’t do that. He’s just a leech of a bum who happens to own a handgun. You’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

Dean sighed and sat back down. “Sounds like equal Jonah swallowers to me.” He sat in silence for a moment. “So that’s where your ‘don’t be a polite doormat’ worldview comes from. I wish I had your strength to fight my demons.”

“You do,” Sam said. “I’ve seen how you’ve undermined them for years. You’ve got the chin to fight them.” He spoke over Dean’s protests, “don’t worry about me. They won’t touch me before the fight, and afterwards, I’ll be with you and Bobby. Then we can both leave.”

“What about during the fight?” Y/N asked. “Does Raphael control him too?”

“No, my opponent is from the other side of town. Virgil-something. Bobby did a little digging to check that, said all he found out was the guy had weapons for fists.”

Dean sniggered, “wait till he meets your armory.” He was smiling again. He wrapped Y/N’s fingers in his own and kissed her hand. “Do you think we can do this?”

“Yes. But why don’t we call the cops?”

“They probably already know,” Sam snorted. “They’ve got as much of a hold on the underworld as Raphael has in the local boxing. Besides, we’d go to jail and get stuck with Uriel’s cronies.”

“We wouldn’t last the night,” Dean mumbled. “You can’t go to the heat, Y/N. They’d nab us all, whether we’ve been blackmailed or not. Promise me you won’t go to the police.”

“I promise.”

Sam checked his watch. “We’d better get going if we want to be on time for call.”

“I’m just the undercard, so I’m going to stay a minute and come over with Y/N.” Dean looked at her, “if that’s alright?”

“Yes. It won’t take me but a minute to get ready.” Y/N stood and walked Sam to the door. When he was gone, Dean was there to kiss her. At first it surprised her, but the way his lips matched hers tilt for tilt, they felt like puzzle pieces completing one another. She gasped when Dean broke away suddenly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“Dean, it’s okay.” Y/N tried not to blush, but her breath wasn’t coming out right. It staggered and spun till she could gather her thoughts. “Does that make this next evening date number two?” she asked with a giggle.

Dean grinned, “hell yes.”

When they got to the ring, it was already packed. Dean introduced her to Castiel, close friends since before and after his last big fight with Bartholomew. “He’s your bodyguard till I get back.”

“Fine,” Y/N huffed, “but give Trenton an extra uppercut from me, okay?” Dean chuckled and kissed her cheek before leaving. There were a few small fights, Y/N realized she was sitting behind the same radio host as before, then the arena went silent as Dean and Cole walked to the ring. The announcer did his thing and jazzed up Sam’s top billing fight to follow. The crowd roared as the first bell rang.

“Winchester starts this first round, as he does every round, with a series of jabs,” the radio man said. “Trenton sets a pattern too. Weaving, crouching, trying to get under. The third man in the ring is our referee Balthazar Smith. The opponents stay in the middle, spinning the center to stay focused and close. They’re going at it now. Trenton is jabbing quick, but Winchester gives him a few solid blows to the head. And that’s the bell, ladies and gentlemen. Round one is at a close.”

Y/N and Castiel cheered with the rest of the crowd. Trenton had a few fans, but Dean had several more. Y/N watched the judges almost as much as she watched the fight and liked how they nodded when Dean landed a hit. The bell rang to start the next round.

“They start up again, moving faster at one another. Much different than the slow build of last round. Already you can sense what a perfect match this is. These two men are masters at their trade, but only one will move… and Winchester lands a blow to Trenton’s stomach! Trenton staggers back but launches himself at Winchester. He gets in a few hits… but now Winchester gives him the one-two. Winchester’s got the speed in him tonight. Trenton is stunned. Winchester stinging in those jabs, Trenton trying to get in close with those wicked hooks. The referee has to separate them as the bell rings.”

Dean was looking ragged by round eight. Cole wasn’t falling like Uriel had said. From their corners, Dean shot Cole a look. Cole nodded back, confirming Dean’s thoughts. Dean nodded at Bobby, who was fixing his eyebrow, still open from their first bout. Dean sighed and stood as the bell rang.

“Rolling into round nine, the audience feels like they’re ready for an explosion. They meet quick. Both men dishing it out and still staying in there, though a quick series of hits could make the bout. Oh! Did you hear that thump? That was a Winchester glove colliding with Trenton’s ribs. Winchester still has that patch over his eye, but he’s still forcing the fight, although just a little bit slower. And Trenton watching like a hawk, always looking for that split second of an opening, always eager to unload his combinations.”

Y/N flinched with each hit. They were harder now and audible above the din of the audience. Even Castiel’s brow was knit with worry.

“Trenton upper cutting Winchester, sending him to retreat along the ropes. Trenton lands one to Winchester’s face. That can’t feel good on his patch. Winchester pulls him close, cinching Trenton’s arms. But they’re still able to reach up to hit him in the back of the head. They are separated with much struggle from the ref. Trenton chases Winchester around the ring, jabbing an upper cutting. Winchester blocks his face and sends out jabs that land on Trenton.”

“Round eleven, thirty minutes of actual fighting have gone by. Neither man has really taken over, but this could be the fiercest of them all. They’re starting out close and hard, ladies and gentlemen, and it doesn’t look like they’re going to let up. Winchester twists under Trenton’s punch, then pulls up to land on Trenton’s face. Winchester uppercuts, but misses him by a mile. Trenton pulls in close, one-two into Winchester’s chest with a little bit of elbow into his cheek. Ref and judges on the wrong side of the ring to see it. Now you can hear the audience as Winchester starts raining down on Trenton. This is what they’ve been waiting for. Trenton fights back, but the blows keep coming. Trenton gets Winchester on the ropes, thirty seconds left in the round. He uses them to land body blows, but Winchester pushes him back, cinching Trenton’s arms again. They’re both haymaking as the bell rings.”

“Round number twelve, and again those opening jabs by Winchester. “Raisin’ Cain” just a little bit slower, but he’s shaking off that battering he took in the previous rounds. Trenton, weaving, crouching, always aggressive. He’s loaded with confidence after that last round. But Winchester is showing his dynamite. One, two, three jabs to Trenton, snapping his head back with each. Winchester’s stance spread out as Trenton backs away from another combination. If you can hear that static, ladies and gentlemen, that’s the full audience spurring on their favorite. Trenton tries to bob down, but Winchester’s uppercut is waiting for him. Even with the patching, Winchester’s red is flowing; I can smell the iron from here.”

Dean’s lips looked more swollen than they were stretched over his mouth guard, but his hurt eye was starting to close. His left arm hung lower, giving him less protection.

“Here we go for the final round. Through it all Trenton and Winchester have dueled like champions. With just three minutes left, Trenton is still the aggressor. Winchester, who’s probably thinking he’s never had it rougher, is gamely hanging on, mouth open, jabbing all the time and tying Trenton up in the clinches. Winchester dances Trenton over to the ropes, his restraints looking more like support as Trenton leans on him. It’s been a rough night for him too. They back away from each other before the ref has to separate them. Their arms reach out at the same time, while they receive a punch like the one their dishing out. Trenton keeps trying to bob below Winchester’s hits but keeps finding uppercuts before being beaten down by roundhouses. Thirty seconds to go. Winchester cinches Trenton, but Trenton keeps catching him in the ribs. There’s the bell, and the big fight is over. Both Cole Trenton and Dean Winchester deserve tremendous credit. But now it’s up to the judges appointed by the Chicago City Commission. Here’s announcer Johnny Addie with their decision.”

The announcer stepped into the center, dragging the mic chord behind him. He flipped through the judges’ cards, then pulled the mic to his mouth.

“Judge Aidie Idella scores it nine five one even, Trenton. Referee Al Burr scores it nine two six, Winchester.”

The crowd booed. Y/N couldn’t tell if it was for or against Dean.

“The other judge, Bill Wrecked, scores it eight six one even, the winner and official semi-finalist of the Light Heavyweight of Chicago, Dean Winchester.” The announcer lifted Dean’s arm above his head as the crowd cheered. The announcer marked the place and time for the final match, then led Dean out of the ring. He and Bobby went to the back to change out so he could watch Sam’s fight.

Uriel got up from his seat in the third row behind the judges and motioned for the ref to follow him. They ended up in Raphael’s office, where he was entertaining a visitor with the best view of the ring, and his aged drinks.

Raphael didn’t turn from the window but addressed the men as they entered. “Uriel, you haven’t met him yet, but this is Virgil Akins. He’s put on a lot of weight to fight Sam tonight, make sure it’s memorable to all the right people. And Balthazar,” he turned and faced him, “don’t screw this up with a bad call.”

“Yes, sir.”

Balthazar Smith kept a strong face, but Uriel smiled to see him wipe his hands on his pants. Uriel led him and Virgil out into the hallway, cornering them to one side. He shook Virgil’s hand.

“Dean Winchester has already said he’s finished. We’ll invite him nicely to the box to watch his brother’s fight, then you can have him. He’ll think it’s a real fight, so hold nothing back. You know how to end it. Balthazar, when Virgil uses his rabbit punch, make sure you’re looking the other way, and do something to make sure the judges are looking away too.”

“But sir, those punches can kill.”

“I know. There’s no way Dean did this without talking to his brother, so Sam’s in on it. Don’t worry too much about it. Virgil’s got it handled. Understand?”

Balthazar moved to give a retort but swallowed it. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now get out there before anyone misses you. Soon the Winchesters will be finished.”

[1] Sophie: 50’s slang for “girlfriend”

Part 4: Rabbit Punch

Tag list:

@sassy-losechester, @mysteriouslyme81, @theriumking, @kittenofdoomage, @supernatural-jackles, @bringmesomepie56, @jpadjackles, @ilostmyshoe-79

Consequences: Part 2 – Caution

January 27, 2017Aebli Leave a comment

Y/N meets Dean for a date after his semi-finals win, after some convincing. Dean is warned about what happens to those who fight the plan.

Characters: Y/N, Jo, Claire, Dean, Bobby, Uriel, Raphael

Warnings: threats of violence, past relationship abuse trigger (separate from the first warning)

Word Count: 2500-ish

Note: This one wrote a lot quicker than the last installment, which you can read here: Part 1 – Ringside. Please let me know how you like, or why not, and any guesses as to how it’s gonna go. If you like my style, my requests are open! Be on the look-out for a few coming out soon. Now, enjoy…

“You have to go!” Claire looked at Y/N, incredulous that her roommate didn’t want to show up to her date. “He’s going to the semi-finals… he’s hot! Why don’t you want to go?”

“It was an off-hand promise,” Y/N groaned, sinking onto the couch. “I didn’t know he was a… the boxer. I thought he was just some guy trying to get a date. Then in the hype from the fight, we set a place and time. I’m thinking clearly now.”

“No, you’re not,” Jo said. She hung a series of dresses on the door. “You’re panicking like every girl does before a date.”

“But you know what happened the last time I did something like this…”

“This is a different guy.” “A new start,” they said, overlapping one another.

Y/N looked back a forth between Jo and Claire. They were going to make her go, even if it meant they had to drag her there. A new start. “Fine, I’ll go.” She stopped their triumphant grins by pointing at the dresses. “I don’t know why you brought all those out; the one I wore to the fight will be fine.”

“Oh sweetie,” Jo said, dragging Y/N to her feet, “you are going to look perfect for tonight.”

“Trust us, looking pretty isn’t for the guy. It’s a real self-boost and since you’ll be wearing one of mine or Jo’s dresses, you won’t have to worry about ruining an outfit with bad memories… ouch!” Claire rubbed her arm where Jo slapped it.

Y/N laughed as they chattered plans between them, then waited for her input. They were good friends. Y/N wouldn’t have anybody else looking at her, waiting to hear her ‘okay’. If this did go sideways, they would know how to help her through it.

“Alright then. Let’s get going.”

All three of them squealed as Jo and Claire started to dress her for the night.

The summons was almost as ominous as Dean thought it would be: a quick call with a single command. He attempted to walk quietly through the arena, but his steps continued to echo through the dark space. Raphael’s office provided the only light, shining from one corner of the rafters except for two dark forms moving on the inside. Bobby was waiting for him at the door with a heavy pat on the back but didn’t enter with him.

“Winchester,” Uriel sounded surprised to see him, “sit down.” Dean sat in the only available chair, which was situated in the middle of the room. Uriel started to pour a drink with his back turned to Dean. Dean knew it wasn’t for him. Uriel took it instead to Raphael, who was leaning against the windows in the far corner.

“You know why you’re here?” Raphael asked, wafting the glass under his nose. Dean could smell the aged brandy from his chair.

“Are you the principle now?” Dean snarked.

“No. I’m your boss.” Uriel sipped the drink slowly, keeping his voice low and dangerous. “And when I tell you to lose, you lose. Not that KO from last night.”

Dean shifted in the chair. He’d never met Raphael in person before, but he didn’t like it.

“We lost money last night, Winchester,” Uriel chimed in. “I want to take it out of your hide, but Raphael’s got a better plan.” Uriel poured himself a shot of whiskey and downed it quick, snarling through the burn.

“Cole gets a rematch.”

“What? You son of a ” Dean tried to stand, but Uriel pushed him back down and kept his hand clamped over Dean’s shoulder.

“A rematch. I’m leaving it up to Cole to figure out the particulars of why he wants one, but it’s also your second chance. If you follow orders like a good little soldier till then, I might let you keep your win. Otherwise, I’m going to tell some of the more obedient players to give your brother a visit.”

“Leave Sam out of it.”

“Can’t do that, Winchester.” Uriel squeezed Dean’s shoulder harder, then left to sit on the edge of Raphael’s desk. “When one of the team messes up, it ripples through the whole operation.” Uriel stood to his feet under Raphael’s glare.

“What’s it gonna be, Dean? You can win either way if you play along.”

Dean gripped the arms of the chair, almost wishing he could hear them splinter if he squeezed hard enough. But he relaxed his gaze and loosened his grip. “What’s the script?”

“We’ll tell you when it’s time.” Raphael nodded to Uriel, who grabbed Dean by the arm and pushed him towards the door. Dean had his hand on the knob when Raphael laughed. “See, following orders isn’t too hard.”

Dean turned to growl but kept moving instead. When Bobby wasn’t outside, he left the door open, relishing in Uriel’s harsh curse.

She knew she was early, but every minute felt like an eternity. The table for two by the jukebox was empty, reserved with her name on a tented piece of paper. She laid it flat at first, but now she was fiddling with it till it was shredded. Again, she checked the clock on the wall. He wasn’t late, yet, but damn did it feel like it. Did he have the same idea to skip out? He couldn’t, or the table wouldn’t be reserved. Right?

“Did he stand you up, doll?” A well-dressed man sat in the other chair, looking very much out of place. His grin was not unpleasant, but it was too big. Too bright. “What’s your handle? I’m Richard.”

“None of your business. I’m waiting for someone.”

“And he’s late. His loss.”

“Actually, he’s still got a while. I’m early. Your miss.” Y/N turned to face away from him, hoping he’d take the hint. Instead, he reached across the table and took her hands in his, gripping them tightly so she couldn’t get away.

“But a lovely girl like you shouldn’t be waiting alone, and not without a second opinion.”

“The lady said to get lost. Sorry, I’m late.” Dean yanked the man to his feet. Richard straightened his jacket as they stared each other down.

“Actually, you’re right on time.”

Richard twisted his head, “Dean ‘Raisin Cain’ Winchester. Out of the kennel for the throw last night?”

“Shut your mouth, before I kick it wide open.”

Richard chuckled, “what? You don’t want your girl knowing it’s all planned to a tee? A scam. A fake.”

“You want to see how real it is? Take a step out back and I’ll show you.” Dean and Richard grabbed each other by the lapels at the same time, but Y/N jumped to her feet and pushed them apart. She pulled Dean to her side of the table and wrapped her arms around his waist, positioned to defending and being defended by Dean.

“I’m not interested in seeing him bloody you, sir. I’m not interested in you at all. So get moving.” Her heart hammered in her throat as Richard grunted and walked out.

“If you squeeze any tighter, darlin’, I’m gonna get bumped down to a middleweight.”

Y/N let go of his waist, “sorry. I just ruined my chance, didn’t I?”

“Not at all. That was wonderful,” Dean laughed. “Just remind me if I get too big for my gloves that you could KO me in a heartbeat.” He helped her into his chair before hanging up his coat and hat and joining her. “Does that always work?”

“It didn’t at the fight, thankfully. It comes from a promise I made to myself.”

“And what was that?”

Y/N grinned, “stop being a polite doormat.”

Dean gave her a thumbs up and sighed. They sat in silence till Dean asked, “Hey! This is a date, isn’t it? Do you want dessert first or last?”

“Please?” Y/N thought back to some of the phrases Jo and Claire had taught her. Was this one of them?

“This place has the best pie in Illinois. Sometimes I eat it first so I don’t run out of room, but if that’s too strange we can wait.”

“No, that sounds perfect.”

“Alright, blueberry or cherry?”

He was a comical sight. Y/N could tell he wanted to wolf it down while it was hot, but he ate slowly to stay neat. In the meantime, she learned more about him, and he learned more about her. Just the basics. The dinner slowly emptied out till there was only the cook and the bar. By the time they ordered and their main meal came out (burgers with a slice of pineapple!) they were joking like old friends, but she could tell he was holding something back.

“Just spit it out, Dean.” She giggled as he looked around confused after having taken a huge bite of his burger. “Not the food, the question you’ve been holding back on.”

Dean nodded and swallowed, but thought about it for a minute longer before trying to throw it into the air. “So, I get the moving away from home and the freedom and the roommates. But why Chicago? You sound too high-class to be living on this dark side of town.”

It took her by surprise, deeper than the rest of the questions. She took a breath and tried the usual brush-off. “Chicago was less expensive than New York, so here I am.”

“No, it’s more than that. I’ve seen… I’ve had that face before. What are you running away from?”

She nearly choked on her drink. But his eyes were attentive and deep. And don’t get lost Y/N, or he’s going to think you’re crazy. “It’s not a what. It was a who.” She shrank back into her chair, questioning if she was really going to tell him. He reached out for her hand, and she gave it to him. The warmth and the small squeeze spurred her on. “Honestly I didn’t want to go to the fight. I thought I’d had my fill of seeing punches thrown.” The next words died in her throat, refusing to leave.

“I know the feeling.”

Y/N looked up at him, surprised. He nodded and looked away, but didn’t add any more. He didn’t have too. He gave her hand another squeeze then stood in front of the juke. Dean had paid enough to keep it going all night, but he switched over what was playing to one of Sinatra’s new albums. Come Fly With Me began to spin, crackling to life as trumpets started the tune. He pushed as few of the tables out of the way before pulling Y/N to her feet. He started swaying slow but picked up the pace as the music hopped.

By the time Moonlight in Vermont rotated in, Y/N was as close to him as she could be with their clothes still on. He led the way, turning her and swaying while humming along. But she couldn’t help but feel the questions bouncing around in his head as his back stiffened and he swayed out of time.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re stiff.” She smiled into his tie as his steps faltered, making a note to thank Jo. “You’re not swaying to the music as you were,” she continued. “Something in your thoughts is blocking your steps. Do you want to talk about it?”

Dean considered it. But she was too new, freshly escaped from other problems. She didn’t need his. Her voice broke through his wonderings.

“Say what you can. Your heart will follow.”

Dean spilled in one breath, “what would you do if… have you ever… I mean… ugh. I’m not very good at this.” Dean stopped swaying. Y/N placed her hands on his chest. They were so small and delicate. He couldn’t break her. “I’m sorry; I can’t.”

“That’s alright. But you still need to talk to someone. Somebody you trust.” Y/N ran her fingers under his tie, searching for anything comforting. “I talk to Jo and Claire about anything I’m not sure about. And I’m just a phone call away.”

Dean perked up. “Are you offering to give me your number?”

Y/N blushed. “Yes. But be warned, it’s a party line. It’s probably worse than getting spied on by the police.”

“Hey, mine is too. Same boat.”

“Miss?” the bartender interrupted the moment, and Y/N realized she was again pressed up against Dean.

“Yes,” she said, stepping back.

“There’s a call for you. A young lady named Jo?”

“Oh.” Y/N looked at the clock. It was half an hour later than when she’d said she be home. She ran over and took the receiver. “Jo?”

“How are you still there? We figured you’d be home or elsewhere by now.” Y/N heard Claire giggle in the background.

“Sorry. We were, um,” Y/N turned to face away from Dean, “we were dancing to Sinatra.” She heard him snort and start to gather their things.

“Alright. Will we be seeing you tonight?” Now they were both giggling.

“No. I just didn’t realize how late it was. I’ll be home shortly.” She ignored their teasing and hung up. The waiter waved away her coins with a smile and continued to clean up the bar. “It seems I am late for curfew.”

“I’ll call you a cab.” He nodded to the waiter, who nodded back and dialed. “And before we get interrupted again, what’s the number?” She laughed and wrote it on a napkin before sliding it into his coat pocket. He wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and led her to the door. They stood in the window until the cab honked. Dean handed the cabbie his cash, despite Y/N arguing that she could pay her own way.

“What about you?” she asked, leaning out the window.

“I walked here; I’ll walk back.” He chuckled at her worried face. “I’m Dean ‘Raisin Cain’ Winchester. I’ll be fine. And I might take your advice. So, thanks for that.” The driver started up his motor. “And Y/N, thanks for coming out.”

“Thanks for asking me.” She blushed and peaked at the driver. “I hope we can do it again soon.”

“I’ll call you.” He waved after her as the cab pulled away. His apartment could have been a block away or fifty. He didn’t care; every step felt like it was on air. As for Uriel and Raphael… well, he pushed them out of his mind. They could wait till daylight. Their damned plans weren’t going to bring him down now.

Y/N sprawled out on her bed still in her roommates’ date dress. Jo and Claire were whispering like giddy snakes in the living room, waiting for her to regale them with everything. But first Y/N wanted to remember the way he felt pressed against her, the way he smelled, his smile.

What couldn’t he tell her?

She sighed the question away. When he was ready, he’d say something. And maybe, if her luck held out, she could tell him things too. Things she hadn’t even told Jo or Claire.

Part 3: Undercard

Tags: @kittenofdoomage @supernatural-jackles @theriumking @ilostmyshoe-79 @dean-imagine-reblogs @itskilling-me @idontknow-canyou @cookie-dough-lova

Consequences – Part 1: Ringside

January 13, 2017Aebli Leave a comment

Y/N gets dragged to a boxing match by her friends where she meets Dean “Raisin’ Cain” Winchester. When asked out on a date, she says she’ll only go if he wins. Which is a serious problem.

Pairing: Boxer!Dean x Reader

Warnings: violence in the form of boxing

Word Count: 3100+

Note: I’m not a boxing expert, but I have watched a lot of fights from the greats to make this series. Find any Sugar Ray Robinson fight on YouTube and use it for background music if you’d like. I certainly used some to get in the zone. Feel free to leave comments on how you like or dislike it (with reasons why you dislike it) and guess where the story is going.

The den didn’t look like much from the outside. The brick was chipping on the corners and several of the windows were boarded up. If there hadn’t been a line of patrons waiting at the door, Y/N would have thought it was abandoned.

She looked at her ticket stub again. Admit One: Winter Chicago Amateur Semi-Finals.

“Why are we here?” she asked Jo, her roommate.

“Because Claire got tickets from her friend who works concessions. She’s already inside and said to meet at the seats on the second row.” Jo spun, flaring her skirt and drawing the eye of several men standing around them.

“I feel overdressed.” Y/N looked down at her little black dress, wincing at the grand amount of tulle under the skirt. In reality, it was only a notch above what she wore around town, but she would have preferred to save this dress for a Sunday. “It’s just going to be a bunch of sweaty guys beating each other up. We could watch that any night at your mom’s bar.”

“Y/N,” Jo sighed, “try to enjoy this. The guys fighting tonight are going to look a lot better than the ones at the bar.” Jo leaned close and whispered, “and they’ll be wearing considerably less clothing.”

“Jo!”

A quick cheer resounded from the front of the line as the doors opened. Light poured out into the street, followed quickly by lively music. Barely twenty people had walked through the doors when the bet collectors were yelling the stats. Y/N and Jo showed their ticket to the bouncer and were nearly drowned in the rush to get in. They were separated, but Y/N walked over to a less populated part of the arena to catch her breath.

“You alright, sweetheart?” a voiced asked.

She turned and found herself face to chest with a man in a suit. Taking a step away, she looked up into the greenest eyes she’d ever seen. He watched her with concern, but something about him made him feel dangerous. Like he could easily overpower her in more ways than one.

“Yes. Thank you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get to my seat.” She turned to walk away.

“You might want to wait a few more minutes till the crowd dies down or you’ll get swamped again.” Y/N stopped to listen. It was still crowded. “And I would take a moment to breathe. Once you’re sitting down, it’s probably not going to smell good.”

“Wonderful,” she muttered under her breath. But she stayed all the same. If the smell of sweaty men could reach her up here, then it was going to be unbearable down there.

“I’m Dean. What’s your name?” he asked, holding out a hand. She shook it with her fingertips.

“Y/N. Pleased to meet you.” She turned to watch people find their seat, reminded of the movements of ants.

“Have you ever been to a fight before?” Dean asked.

“Are you writing a book?”

He raised his hands in defense. “Just wanted to get to know you, sweetheart.”

Y/N snickered, “I hope you don’t think you’ll get anything out of it.”

“Well now that you mention it…” Y/N turned to gape at him. He was serious. If he wasn’t so big she would have thought his boyish movements would have been cute. She almost missed his question while watching his tongue dart out to wet his lips. “Did you hear me?”

“Please?”

“What are your plans after the fight?”

“As far as I can see, nothing with you.” Y/N turned to walk away, she could handle the second-row problems better than this.

“Come on, princess. Being one of the boxers should get me somewhere.”

Y/N took a deep breath. He was big enough to be a boxer but didn’t seem to fully fit the type. Not to mention he wasn’t dressed for a fight.

“I’ll tell you what. You win your fight tonight and I might meet you after the prizefight. Otherwise, forget it.”

Y/N walked away from his grinning face and into the pit. Jo and Claire didn’t have time to ask questions as the first opponents arrived at the ring. Y/N was ready to forget Dean.

“Dean! Where’ve you been, boy?” Bobby Singer grabbed Dean by the lapels and tugged him into the prep room. “You need to get dressed before Uriel gets here.” They froze as someone knocked on the door. “Balls.”

Bobby opened the door for Uriel. Dean hated his sneering face, but he was second in command for the match-fixing ring.

“Take a dive in the fifth, Winchester, and stay there. Feel free to do what you want till then as long as it doesn’t keep Cole from taking you out.”

“That’s not what we agreed, Uriel,” Bobby snarled, “Dean’s supposed to go to the big prize match in March.”

“He will. We had to add a week into the schedule so a special guest could meet you there. You’ll get a rematch next week, and then you’ll be on your way as planned.” Uriel laughed, a sound everyone found akin to nails on a chalkboard.

“You’d better not screw me. Not like you did to Cas with Bartholomew.” Dean stayed back, but his fists were tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

“Yeah, wasn’t that a bite? He made the distance till the tenth, though.” Uriel chuckled.

“It was torture,” Bobby spat.

Uriel stepped forward till he loomed over Bobby. “I wouldn’t focus on the past if I were you. Those who look back too much tend to get lost in the future.” He nodded at Dean and walked out, shouting over his shoulder, “the fifth, Winchester.”

They stood in silence, both seething. But it was the life they were in, one that they more or less chose. Sometimes they joked that God himself couldn’t stop them from deciding who lived and who died. They saved that for nights even darker than this.

“One of these days someone’s going to feed him a knuckle sandwich,” Dean growled.

Bobby nodded in agreement. “But it’s not gonna be you. And it’s not gonna be tonight. You’ve got too much riding on your family for you to rebel. It’d take the whole house of players to end this.”

“Or getting caught,” Dean mumbled.

“Bite your tongue boy! If they get caught, we get caught. And then all their attack dogs will get stuck in the same cage as us. We wouldn’t last the night.” Bobby sighed. Dean looked at him from the corner of his eyes. He was getting old, and the stress of the maintaining the fixes was taking its toll. Bobby shook himself with a grunt. “You need to change quick if you want to catch Sam before his fight.”

Dean shed his jackets while Bobby hunted out the shorts and gloves. He’d signed on to do whatever Uriel told him, but the image of the pretty girl from earlier mixed with the shame of being a fixed boxer made him question how tonight was really going to turn out.

Y/N jumped as the bell rang, ending the match. The ref announced the scores, awarding the win to the tall man with long hair. She halfway wondered how he could see his opponent.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer started, “these ring officials have been appointed by the Illinois State Boxing Commission.” He rattled off several names, she couldn’t remember if they were different from the match before, but they did look a little grimmer. “This is the feature presentation of the light heavyweight not exceeding 175 pounds. From Fort Benning, Georgia, wearing the black trunks with the white stripe and weighing 170 pounds: Cole “Avenger” Trenton.”

A quick cheer rang through the arena. The announcer waited for it to die down before continuing.

“And from Lawrence, Kansas, wearing the white trunks with the black stripes and weighing 175 pounds: Dean “Raisin’ Cain” Winchester.”

Y/N nearly fell out of her seat. It was the man she’d met earlier. And he was the title fight! She covered her face with her hands as Dean looked around the crowd before finding her. He smiled and winked, making her blush. She hoped he was too far away to see it.

“And ladies and gentlemen here is referee Balthazar Smith with instructions for both contestants. And ladies and gentlemen, no smoking, please.”

The referee stepped up to the mike and waited for Dean and Cole to meet. Their coaches stayed close, massaging their shoulders, and probably holding them back based on the daggers they were shooting. “You boys received your instruction from the Illinois Boxing Commission. I want a clean break at all times; careful of your kidney punches and your rabbit punches. In case of a knock-down, I want you to go to your furthest corner and stay there ‘til I tell you to come out fighting. Also, in case of a knock-down, you must take an eight-count. It that understood?” Dean a Cole nodded. “Shake hands and come out fighting.”

The boxers separated and went to their respective corners. Their managers took their robes and gave them mouth guards. The row in front of the girls was filled with men from the press. Y/N had been listening to the man directly in front of her all night as he announced the fight for a small radio program. He kept using terms she didn’t always recognize, but sometimes he’d clarify for visiting listeners. She hoped Dean wouldn’t get hurt.

Bobby held Dean back as he bounced and shadow boxed. “I know you don’t want to, but do what Uriel says. Next week you’ll get the rematch, and then we’ll be onto the big time.” Dean nodded and danced towards the center as the bell rang.

“Ladies and gentlemen, that was the opening bell for this scheduled ten rounder, and Raisin’ Cain Winchester, who won the championship last year, is on his way to defend his title against a younger opponent in the semi-finals. Cole the Avenger is fighting in memory of his father, who died due to boxing injuries.”

He labeled several punches and moves as the men started to swing at one another. “Trenton, who is very effective inside, very good at body punching, and Winchester who is obviously good at long range… with that snappy left jab… and the right cross.”

Dean cinched Cole’s arms to his sides, preventing further body punches. Already they were both sweating, and Dean’s grip was slipping. The referee came over and broke them apart. They separated, but Cole chased Dean into a retreat. Dean fired out a jab, which Cole returned. They traded punches, uppercuts, and several different types of blows that Y/N had learned that night.

“That right hand to Winchester was just a trifle short. If Winchester keeps dancing around the ring like he is, he might tire before he can knock some wind out of Trenton. But there can be no doubt that both men came here tonight to fight. A short minute remaining in round one.”

To Y/N, the minute felt like ten as the men quickly exchanged blows faster than the reporter could call them. Cole landed a solid punch to Dean’s face, making him stagger back into the ropes.

“A little trickle from Winchester. Trenton is scoring repeatedly!”

The bell sounded as Dean pushed off. They ignored one another and went to their corners.

“And round one is over! Raisin’ Cain Winchester taking about as much punishment as I’ve ever seen him take in round one except for last year when Castiel Novak nearly punched him out of the ring. Winchester came back to win that fight. Novak fought and lost to Bartholomew in his next bout in a nearly murderous display. Winchester has had a total of 130 bouts, losing seven, two draws, and one technical knock-out trying to win the middleweight championship when he first started.”

The reporter continued to pass along Dean’s stats and Y/N couldn’t help but be slightly impressed. He was actually a good fighter. But she wasn’t sure she wanted to date a boxer. Not yet. There were still nine rounds to go to see if he could hold up his end of the bargain.

Rounds two, three, and four came and went with similar displays of prowess. Dean’s cut on his brow kept bleeding into his eye. Bobby kept patching it up and cleaning it the best that he could. Y/N learned that he had been a boxer back in the day, but an unsportsmanlike hit to his spine kept him out for several years. When he came back, he stuck to training others and found the Winchesters: Dean and Sam. He was a coach for both of them. Y/N wondered how his heart stayed in his chest on nights when they both fought.

“Trenton talking to Winchester constantly. And the eye of Dean Winchester is starting to smear a bit. Right on the right eyebrow.”

Cole swung out, catching Dean in the ribs, making him double over.

“Probably the best blow of the fight! Avenger Trenton overhand right swinging below to catch Winchester in the ribs.”

Dean swung wildly, missing Cole completely as he ducked. Dean backed away and tried to wipe the blood out of his eye, but missed seeing Cole’s left hook. He dropped like a stone, his head bouncing painfully against the canvas.

The world slowed down to single heartbeats. Patrons leaped to their feet like rocks in molasses. Bobby shook his head, refusing to watch. Y/N looked for his eyes, begging whoever would hear her to see the brilliant green instead of the blood over his closed lids. She gasped as they fluttered.

He found hers as well, latching onto them like a ship to a lighthouse during a storm.

The referee started to count.

One.

Two.

Three.

“To hell with this,” Dean mumbled.

Four.

He reached for a rope, using it to pull himself up. But knees don’t count. He knew he had to get to his feet.

Five.

Cole shouted at him, “stay down! Or you’ll be worse than done, Winchester.”

Six.

Dean managed to get one leg under him, but it wobbled too much to support him.

Seven.

Dean pulled again, straining against his bruised ribs to stand on his feet.

The crowd roared with delight.

“Dean Winchester was not down for the count yet, ladies and gentlemen! We’ve still got a match as long as he’s got any fight left in him.”

The bell rang, ending the fifth round. Cole looked pale and a little green around the gills. Dean nodded to him, taking the blame for the manager storm that was going to hit later.

They met again, but Cole let Dean do all the hitting, feigning exhaustion. Dean knew Cole’s fighting and his style. Cole was tired, especially now that Dean wasn’t pulling his punches.

“A slowly tiring Winchester, but Trenton slows as well. Not punching cleanly going into this round, missing. Winchester’s left hook was low, giving him a warning from ref Balthazar.”

Dean gave Cole four quick jabs to the torso, sending him stumbling into the ropes amid a chorus of cheers. He followed with three more to the head and face.

“Come on Dean! You’ve got ‘im!” Y/N screamed.

“Four clean blows into Trenton, and then three more. Winchester was hurting Trenton. He’s hurting him now. Jabs to the ribs and the face. Now a bolo. Trenton is round housing, missing Raisin’ Cain Winchester by a mile. Trenton’s left eye is swollen. Closing gradually. Damn! Pardon my language, ladies and gentlemen, Dean Winchester has spun Trenton around. He’s still standing, but blocking drunk. Ref Balthazar separates them again as Trenton leans on Winchester. Half a minute to go in the sixth round. Winchester set him up with those body blows, damaged his nose. He has Trenton on his feet asleep, holding on. The audience is standing and cheering.”

Dean kept jabbing. Cole wasn’t fighting back and he was a fellow pawn, but Dean was punching red. All those times when he had a win in the bag and Uriel told him to fall, or every time they promised him the prize fight, like tonight, but then took it away. He could hold himself up. They could take their schemes and schedules with them to hell.

“Trenton punching drunk as the bell rings, ending round six. The ringside doctor checking him out. If he doesn’t respond to the bell, the fight will be over. No! He’s up and ready to go. This is round seven, ladies and gentlemen. And Winchester is not holding back, not with the end so close.”

Y/N notices a flurry of movement to one side of the ring. The doctor is waving his arms till a large man nods. The bell rings, but Dean keeps going.

“Winchester doesn’t hear the bell. Ref Balthazar has to break them apart. But it’s too late! Down goes Trenton. The ref counts… and Dean Winchester has won by a knockout, ladies and gentlemen. For six rounds, Trenton gave better than he took. Then Winchester unleashed all of his best guns for the last round. Our score cards showing that Winchester was ahead sixty-three points to fifty-seven.”

The ref pulled Dean towards the middle as Cole’s coach and attendees pulled Cole’s body off the canvas. The announcer stepped on stage and grabbed the mic. “Attention ladies and gentlemen, the winner by knockout, in two minutes and fifteen seconds of the seventh round, and the defending winner of the Winter Chicago Amateur Semi-finals is Dean “Raisin’ Cain” Winchester. He will face his last opponent to defend his title for another year once dates have been determined.”

He raised Dean’s arm above their heads. Y/N joined the rest of the crowd with a standing applause and cheering.

“See! You enjoyed yourself.” Jo yelled above the din.

“Yeah. I guess I did. Thanks, Claire, for the tickets.”

Claire continued cheering, stopping for a split second to gasp out, “he’s coming this way.”

Y/N looked back at the ring to see Dean pushing his way through the managers. Aiming to meet him halfway, she headed to the chaos surrounding the canvas.

Bobby was shaking Dean. “What were you thinking?”

“Nothing,” Uriel’s voice said, breaking into the circle. “He wasn’t thinking at all.”

Dean stopped his struggle to face Uriel. “You want to duke it out here?” he challenged.

Uriel shook his head with a smirk. “No. But we will discuss this Winchester. Enjoy the light… while it lasts. And get that brow checked out; we wouldn’t want it to turn into something serious.”

Dean broke away, surging through the crowd. He bumped into the person he wanted to see most.

“Heya, sweetheart. You got plans?”

“I’m open to suggestions.”

Part 2: Caution