Supernatural, Twilight 1. Don't Bring Me Down

**Title:** The Wedding Crashers

**Author:** Das Mervin and Mrs. Hyde

**Fandom:** Twilight/Supernatural

**Rating:** R for language, themes, violence, and sexual innuendo

**Summary:** After two years on her own, and two more as a hunter with Sam and Dean Winchester, Leah thought she'd escaped her old life at La Push. But when she's called home to attend Jacob and Renesmee's wedding, she brings a little company, and the stage is set for her old and new lives to collide.

**Author's Note:** Okay, so, this fic was kind of spawned from the story Hyde and I wrote earlier titled "Philosophy", so it's kind of the prologue to this fic in its own way. You are strongly advised to read that one before you read this one, as not only do we directly reference it several times throughout this story, but it also is the beginning of our little crossover crackship of Leah/Castiel. As was the case with "Philosophy", in terms of "Supernatural" canon, the same rules apply here—this is after the current SPN canon. Everything previous applies, but seeing as season six is only halfway through, we don't know how anything's gonna turn out. As such? Just assume everything worked out just peachy and to everyone's satisfaction and Sam and Dean went hunting into the sunset on a beautiful black metal steed and Cas comes out to play every now and again. We good? We're good.

**Spoilers:** Spoilers for _Twilight_, _New Moon_, _Eclipse_, _Breaking Dawn_, and all six seasons of "Supernatural."

**Disclaimer: "Supernatural" is the property of Kripke Enterprises and Warner Bros. Television. The Twilight Saga is the property of Stephenie Meyer and Little, Brown and Co. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from this work.**

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Chapter 1 – Don't Bring Me Down

Sometimes Leah thought she wasted too much time playing with her cell phone.

It was just that the novelty hadn't quite worn off yet; back home, money was tight and the only cell phone she'd had was a ratty, out-of-date model that only carried the most basic of functions. By the time she'd set out on her own, she was so sick of everyone on or around the reservation that she'd seen no need to update, having neither the time nor the money to waste on stuff like that between vamp hunts.

But now that she was no longer always on her own (and that her new comrades-in-arms were quite experienced con men), she was getting used to the finer things in life—and one of those was a new, reliable cell phone so she could keep in touch with them when on the hunt. However, there was still quite a lot of time between said hunts, and now that she was no longer spending it foraging for food and sleeping in caves, she had time to burn—and she burned a lot of it messing with her new phone.

Oh, there were definitely moments when it paid off—like when they were packing up to leave one afternoon and she couldn't find her phone, so Sam had called her so she could locate it by the ring. The expression on his face when the chorus of "Sympathy for the Devil" started blaring out from the pile of used towels on the floor was totally worth all the time she'd spent choosing and programming it in. Just as it had been totally worth it when Dean had not paid attention when scrolling through his phonebook and called her accidentally over dinner and had been treated to a tinny little rendition of "Dude Looks Like a Lady" in his honor. Really, though, probably the best had been their faces that time they'd both been dunked during a fight with a water wraith, rendering their phones out of commission, and so Castiel had called her, as heralded by "I'm Too Sexy," much to her companions' indignation.

Really, though, those had just been relatively few instances of payoff after who knew how many hours she'd spent customizing and personalizing her phone, and more than once she'd thought that since her jokes were now spent, she should just say "screw it" and set everyone to her default "Hungry Like the Wolf" and leave it be.

But then, there would be a moment like this one, when her phone suddenly burst into buzzing life with the chorus of "Don't Bring Me Down," and even as her stomach dropped into her feet, she was grateful enough for the warning that she considered every wasted second as time well-spent.

She groaned and dropped her forehead onto the table, feeling the phone vibrating through the wood and into her skull. She looked up to find Sam and Dean staring inquiringly at her from their lunch; she just shook her head at them before wearily picking up the phone and, after briefly contemplating hitting "ignore," took the call.

"Hello?" she said resignedly.

"Hey, Leah."

It was Jacob. Only he could manage that perfect mix of smugness and belligerence; what she wouldn't give to get fully out from under his Alpha thumb. "Nice of you to answer on the first call this time," he said derisively.

"I only answer when I have opposable thumbs," Leah answered testily, and before he could start up again, added, "What is it?"

There was a slight pause, and Leah could practically _hear_ that patronizing eyeroll of his that he seemed to reserve especially for her, like he was some kind of wise old graybeard dealing with a wayward child. "I called to tell you that I asked Nessie to marry me six months ago."

There was yet another reason Leah loved her cell phone—her striking out on her own had provided the added advantage of discovering that yes, if she did put enough distance between her and them, telepathy was eventually rendered impossible, and so now telephone was the only way she could talk to her pack. And this way, she could have all the nauseated thoughts and pull all the disgusted expressions she wanted, and no one would be the wiser. "Well, I admit, that is a bit of surprise," she said after a moment, keeping her voice light. "I thought you had probably married her already, and that I'd just been out of the loop."

"Well, _I_ wanted to a couple of years ago, but she wanted to wait," Jacob said, dwelling on what was apparently his displeasure with the delay, and so was oblivious as usual to any ill-will Leah bore him (which was a lot). "But, anyway, the wedding is in two weeks, and Nessie wants you there."

Leah blinked for a moment, and then leaned her face into her hand as his words sank in. "Any particular reason _why_?" she asked, her voice tight to mask the horror she felt at the idea.

The boys on her end had clued in immediately that there was no joy in Mudville and were looking at her with a sort of curious concern. Jacob, of course, didn't notice her weary tone. "Well," he said pompously, "Ness wants an outdoor wedding—but more importantly, she doesn't want all of her vampire family to have to hide what they are, so we're keeping the guest list exclusive—the pack, other vampires, and the only humans who can come are the ones in the know."

Leah wondered if Jacob knew how patronizing he sounded—how much like a _Cullen_ he sounded.

"Anyway," he was blathering on, "that cut down the guest list by quite a lot—none of her human friends from school will be able to make it, so she wants to make sure that as much family as possible will be there, to round out the guest list and keep everything even."

"Okay—so what's that got to do with me? I'm not related to her," she said through her clenched jaw.

"Maybe not by blood, but you've apparently forgotten you are Bella's stepsister, and so you're technically Nessie's aunt," Jacob said sharply back.

It took everything in her power to not reply that yes, she _had_ forgotten, had been much happier for it, and did not appreciate being reminded that not only did her mother remarry less than a year after her father had died, but also that she was now technically part of the _Cullen_ family tree.

"Not only that, but you are part of the pack, Leah—and my cousin," Jacob said, the warning obvious in his words, although their tone made it clear that he took about as much pleasure in that connection as she did. "You are part of both of our families, so I'm calling to _tell_ you to come."

A tiny hiss escaped her as she felt a sudden constriction in her mind, as if an iron band had been tightened around her brain. There was nothing she hated more in this world than _that_, than the feel of that horrible Alpha command; no distance could keep it from stripping her of her free will just to suit the whims of an irresponsible, overgrown _child_ who styled himself as her pack leader—and there was _nothing_ she could do about it.

But that's what she got for playing dumb—she knew better by now that if she lay low and kept her true thoughts to herself, he'd leave her alone. So, rather than telling him exactly what he could do with his "invitation," she forced her voice into an admittedly brittle semblance of pleasure and said, "Well, then—tell Renesmee—" she bounced her eyebrows at the bewildered looks she got from the brothers across the table, "—that I'll be there."

"You can tell her yourself," Jacob said, his tone back to normal. "She wants to talk to you."

"Oh, okay, great," she said flatly, confident that in his supreme indifference towards her, the nuances of her tone would be lost on Jacob. She heard the rustle of the phone changing hands, which gave her time to steel herself.

"Hi, Lee-lee." Leah raised her eyes skyward and prayed for patience (or perhaps just a quick death) in the face of the eternally haughty and self-satisfied voice that was suddenly on the phone, made all the worse by her use of that nickname. "Are you coming?"

Well, she certainly didn't waste any time. "Yes, Renesmee," Leah said, leaning her head tiredly on her hand. "I'm coming."

"Oh, _good_! Everyone will be _so_ glad to hear it. I mean, you haven't been home in _how_ long now?"

_Not long enough._ "About four years."

"See?" she responded smugly. "And what better reason to return, right? _Every_one gathered together again for _my_ wedding!"

_Ah, yes—the truth comes out—_that_ being the part of the arrangement that you actually care about._ "Yes, how true," Leah said, forcing her jaw to unlock in order to mouth the inane platitudes that would keep Renesmee happy. "Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry—I'm just so _excited_! Planning a wedding just takes so much effort—it's so much work to get everything just _perfect_," she droned. "I wanted to inform you that the dress code is going to be black tie, so you really need to hurry and come up here now so we can buy you an appropriate dress and—"

_No. Absolutely not._ "Ah—thank you," Leah interrupted firmly, "but I can take care of my own dress myself."

"Don't be ridiculous," came the immediate and breezy dismissal. "Aunt Alice wants there to be a theme to both sides, so the juxtaposition will be just so stunning, and we've been getting our clothes from this brilliant and exclusive designer in France. We're booking a spa day and hair and makeup appointments for all the women, too, which _you'll_ need, and I'm getting jewelry for all the attendants and—"

Leah drew in a calming breath. "_Thank you_, but I'm afraid I can't make it," she said as decisively as she dared; Renesmee never took kindly to being told "no." "I really appreciate it," she (falsely) assured her, "but I'm in the middle of something right now and really won't be able to make it up there so soon, and I don't want to disrupt your plans for everyone else."

Leah could tell from the stony silence on the other end of the line that the brat was pouting—but better a pout than a tantrum, as she had learned from bitter experience. Still, pout or no, it was a small victory when the sulky voice on the other end of the line finally said, "Well, fine, then—but I still say it would be simpler if you just let us buy it; that way you'd fit in for a change and you wouldn't have some cheap off-the-rack thing that—"

"Just tell me what I should look for," Leah ground out through her clenched teeth, "and I promise that I'll have something _appropriate_."

Renesmee was off immediately. "Well, all _my_ family's look is going to be _avant garde_, so I thought it would be a wonderful complement if all the pack and such were wearing something of a more traditional style. I was thinking some really bright and bold colors, maybe even with beading, so you would have a superbly _tribal_ feel going on when next to us. Really, it would make such a fabulous contrast between all you people and my family, and Mommy and I both agree that it will make a fantastic background for me and Jacob standing together in the middle. Mommy said it will really bring everyone together and unite both groups like no one else can and—"

Dimly, Leah heard the cracking sounds of her fingers digging gouges out of the wood beneath her hands, and the shouts of surprise of her roommates, but she paid little attention to it; she was focused entirely on keeping her temper and not losing control of her form in the middle of the motel room and ruining her favorite blouse in the process.

"Got it," she forced out, risking the brat's wrath in stopping the monologue for the safety of her clothes. "Traditional. Bold colors."

"And don't just get some ugly sack of a dress," Renesmee commanded. "Try to look feminine for a change, Lee-lee. Really, I know it's hard, what with that whole 'tomboy' persona you have going, but this is _my_ wedding and I want everything to be perfect, so wear something decent." Leah heard her give a huffy little sigh before she continued. "I still say you should just finish whatever it is you're fooling around with and come up here, though. That way Aunt Alice and I can just take care of everything for you and make sure you look properly—"

"When is the wedding?" Leah's shaking had subsided, but she could still feel the cords in her neck straining beneath her flesh, and she knew her mouth was twisted in a snarl.

She heard another angry huff on the other end, and Leah held her breath, lest the spawn go running to Jacob—but she finally just sharply answered, "June 17th. The ceremony starts at eleven—so everyone must get here by at least ten. However, _you_ should be earlier."

"All right." Leah took several calming breaths through her nose. "June 17th, ideally before ten." She swallowed and closed her eyes briefly, and then asked, "And it's at your parents' house, right?"

Renesmee snorted once with patronizing laughter. "Oh, don't be ridiculous, Lee-lee. That is not what I wanted. That may have been satisfactory for my mom, but I wanted something a bit more dramatic, and really, Mommy and Daddy were both insisting on something bigger for me. Jacob, too. We're going to set up a pavilion on the beach out at La Push, with a dance floor and everything—"

"Wait a minute—La Push?" Leah interrupted sharply, her shock overriding her normal restraint when speaking to Jacob's little squeeze. "You're having the wedding at _La Push_?"

"Well, yes! Can you think of anywhere better? It will be _perfect_. Jacob is probably more excited than I am, because we're going to get married on his ancestral land. It's so _symbolic_ of our marriage, don't you think?"

"And just who is coming to this wedding?" Leah demanded.

"Well, _everyone_, of course," Renesmee answered, as though it were obvious. "All the Quileutes who know about the wolves and vampires can come, and all _my_ family of course. Alice insisted that we put out the word to all of our vampire friends who came to join us way back when I was just born—you know, when the Volturi came down and they all fought to protect me—and I've told anyone who might actually have a date to bring that _they're_ more than welcome to come too, even humans so long as they're informed. That way, I'll have a full party, and—"

"At _La Push_?"

There was a small silence, and then, "_Yes_, Leah—at La Push. It's Jacob's home, and, well, really, where else could we go that not only has a suitable backdrop but where all my family doesn't have to worry about being seen? Alice is even predicting a sunny day." Renesmee's voice was filled with sugary patience, as if she was speaking to an exceptionally slow child.

Leah didn't have time for that, nor time to marvel that even the goddamn _weather_ bent over backwards to please that little monster. "Renesmee—I'm sorry, but vampires are expressly forbidden from going to La Push by the treaty—there's no way—"

Renesmee laughed, her condescending little chuckle like a fork in Leah's ear. "Oh, is that what had you worried? Jacob had it changed."

"…_What?_"

Leah just sat still in shock as Renesmee blithely went on. "I wanted my wedding on the beach and at La Push, so Jacob had the treaty changed for me and my family. Now we can go wherever we wish. He said it was an early wedding present—I think it's so romantic and sweet the way he does anything and everything to make me happy."

Leah had no words. None. She didn't hear anything else of what Renesmee babbled on about after that—not that she noticed, of course; the spawn didn't want input, she just wanted to listen to herself talk. Leah was finally snapped out of her trance when she said, "Well, I'm afraid I need to run, Lee-lee. I have far too much to do. I really can't be wasting so much time talking to you. Anyway—June 17th, be on the beach by ten at the latest. Jacob says so too," she added, her tone insinuating. "We'll see you then—bye!" And she hung up.

Leah just sat there, frozen, her jaw hanging open, her phone stuck to her ear by her unmoving hand.

La Push. Vampires at _La Push_. The treaty—the werewolves, her home, her tribe's whole history, what the werewolves stood for, what had ruined her _life_—and Jacob "had it changed." All for that insufferable little _brat_.

"Ah—I take it that wasn't Led Zeppelin calling to tell you that the band's getting back together," Dean said, breaking the silence.

Leah swallowed the bile that had risen in her throat. "No. No, they are not," she said in clipped tones, closing her phone and setting it down and then folding her hands neatly in front of her. She stared at her laced fingers for a moment, and then looked up. "I have to go home," she said.

"What—back to the Quileute reservation?" Sam asked. At her nod, the brothers exchanged glances. "What's going on?"

Leah licked her lips. "My pack leader is getting married, and they want me there," she said quietly.

Dean grimaced in sympathy. "Aw, man—you have to go back and put on your monkey suit and get your cheeks pinched by your Great Aunt Enid?"

Leah tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. "I wish it was that simple." She closed her eyes and bowed her head for a moment. "I really, _really_ don't want to go back there," she said, looking up.

Sam's sympathy was a bit less playful. "Hey, we understand. Dealing with your family—they can twist you up like nobody else can," he said kindly. "But they're still family, so they still come first."

Now she did smile, but she knew it was bitter. "Thanks, guys. But with all due respect, that's _your_ family. You don't know _my_ family." She looked away, swallowing the snarl that tried to escape her as she added, "And you really don't know the _bride's_ family."

The bride's family. The _Cullens_. Those filthy, self-righteous bloodsuckers were going to be waltzing all over her home—and her so-called family was just going to _let_ them. That old, buried coal of resentment surfaced, and that thought fanned it into a flame. "I left La Push because I couldn't stay there with them—I couldn't _live_ like that—and I thought that I'd finally put all that behind me. And now," she bit out, "I have to go back for a _wedding_."

She looked up, and there were Sam and Dean, and even thought they didn't know much about her life before, they were looking at her with more genuine feeling than she had ever gotten from any of her so-called family back home.

Her _family_—they didn't know the meaning of the word. She was there just for their convenience, and their convenience was to treat her like shit. They didn't care about her, not even enough to hate her; if they'd hated her, they'd have thrown her out and told her never to come back. But she was not so fortunate to have their hate, only their unreasoning contempt. She was merely their designated whipping boy, and it was just because she wouldn't—_couldn't_—fight back.

And suddenly, as she looked into the strong, open faces of her friends, she knew what she was going to do.

"And you two are coming with me."

Their compassion quickly gave way to alarm. "Hey, now, Leah—you're hot and you get naked all the time and everything, but we don't do weddings," Dean was quick to say.

"And why not? When was the last wedding you went to?" she shot back.

He opened his mouth, but closed it again quickly and looked off with pursed lips. She eyed Sam, who screwed up his mouth and shrugged his shoulders. "Come on, guys. When have I ever asked anything of you?" she said. "I don't want to—" She paused, inhaling a breath through her nose before continuing. "I _can't_ go back there alone. Not after all this time, and right into all of them together like that. I _need_ you guys to come with me. _Please._"

Part of her felt badly about it, but like any knight errant, these two were quite susceptible to damsels in distress. She wasn't faking her upset—but she wasn't bothering to hide it, either.

And, true to form, she could see their defenses crumple. They weren't happy about it, but in the exasperated looks they gave each other, she could see their acquiescence. She broke into a wide smile. "Thank you," she said, and it was sincere, and she couldn't help but stand up and reach across the table to seize Dean in a hug and drop a kiss on his cheek before doing the same to his brother.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean said dismissively, shrugging her off. "But you are _so_ gonna owe me for this one," he said, whipping out his index finger at her and poking it in her face.

She grinned. "Next stop we have with a kitchen, I'll make you a chocolate cream pie," she said sweetly.

He blinked at her, and then nodded approvingly. "I was gonna suggest that you bring me a beer and massage my feet while I watch the game, but that works."

She snorted at him, but the relief that was coursing through her was quite real. "And you, Sam?" she asked, near giddy at the thought of not having to face the pack alone. "You want me to make you a big plate of tofu and organic bean sprouts?"

As a fellow red meat eater, Dean laughed appreciatively, while Sam simpered wryly back at her but then answered, "Thanks, but no. _My_ price is that at our next stop, _you_ get to share a bed with Dean—I get mine all to myself."

Dean looked incredulously at him. "Sammy, what is wrong with you?" he demanded, his expression torn between outrage and disgust. "You're getting payback from the hot chick that involves changed sleeping arrangements, and you tell her that she has to share a bed with your _brother_?"

"Yeah—should I be offended, or just be trying to set you up with that cute little gay guy I met back in Nashville?" Leah asked, one eyebrow raised.

"God—it's like I'm not even related to you," Dean said, shaking his head.

Sam raised his hands. "Dude, Dean—you like to _cuddle_, and you _drool_. And _you_ snore," he added to Leah. "You two are welcome to each other."

"I do _not_ snore!" she exclaimed in outrage over Dean's own vehement denials of any such sleeping habits.

Sam just crossed his arms and smirked. "Hey, you two believe what you want. But I'm the one getting a decent night's sleep out of the deal."

Leah pulled a face at him; Dean just shot him the finger before turning to her and asking, "So, what's the plan, then?"

She sighed, her jovial mood fleeing her once again, and raked her hand through her hair; it was getting long enough to be in the way, and she'd have to cut it soon. "It's up in La Push. That's way out on the tip of the Olympic Peninsula in Washington."

"Cool—that's actually one of the few temperate rain forests in the world," Sam said. "I hear the scenery is fantastic."

"What the hell does that even mean," Dean wanted to know, irritated, "and how the hell do you know that?"

Sam just rolled his eyes. "It means it's a genuine rainforest, but it's not tropical—they still have seasons. And I know because I read things other than _Busty Asian Beauties_."

Leah rubbed her arms, ignoring the snark-fest starting up around her; she was getting uncomfortable just at the thought of going back home, but she reminded herself that she'd have company.

Company who valued her for herself—and who weren't fettered by the mental chains that kept her at bay.

"Yeah," she said, cutting into the catfight. "It is pretty up there, and so's the beach, near where I lived. Popular with surfers—and cliff divers," she added sourly, remembering. "That's where the wedding will be. It's in about two weeks, June 17th, and we'll need to be there in the morning." She eyed them both. "This is a wedding, guys, and it'll be the works, I can tell you: formal dress, full ceremony, champagne, dancing, receiving line—_the works._"

Dean looked pained; Sam just gave her a _look_ and said, "What, you think we can't shape up and play nice for a day?"

"Guys—I'm serious," she said. "This is the wedding of my pack leader. And the bride's family?" she went on. "Those guys are seriously white collar, and they are very, _very_ into outward appearances and first impressions."

Sam and Dean weren't even bothering to pay attention to her lecture anymore; they were just rolling their eyes at each other and smirking at her.

"This is important to me, guys," she said, standing up and leaning over the table, ignoring Dean as he peeked down her shirt, like he always did. "I've asked you to come, and you agreed, so now you have to play ball." She looked them both dead in the eye. "I want you two to be on your absolute _worst_ behavior."

They both froze mid-sneer and did literal double takes. They looked at each other, then at her unsmiling face, and then at each other again.

"Did you just say _worst_?" Dean finally asked her, as if he couldn't quite believe what he'd heard.

"Yes," she answered, standing up straight and crossing her arms over her chest. "I did. I left that place because I couldn't stand those people—I couldn't stand being treated like something they scraped off their shoes just because I happened to be a woman intruding on their little sausage fest. And now, I want to piss them off so bad that I never, _ever_ get another summons home from those sell-out, sexist sons of bitches again."

Now she smiled at their disbelieving faces, and added, "And if I get to stick it to their smug, self-righteous asshole friends _and_ ruin that spoiled, rich-bitch little brat and her pedo boyfriend's wedding in the process, well, so much the better."

She leaned down on the table and bared her teeth in a feral grin. "I want to _crash_ this party."

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Author's Note:

Now that the chapter's over, I just wanted to list the songs we mentioned in the fic—or rather, the artists that go along with the titles.

**1)** ELO – "Don't Bring Me Down," which provides both the chapter title and soundtrack, as well as Leah's ringtone

**2)** Rolling Stones – "Sympathy for the Devil"

**3)** Aerosmith – "Dude Looks Like a Lady"

**4)** Right Said Fred – "I'm Too Sexy"

**5)** Duran Duran – "Hungry Like the Wolf"


	2. Sharp Dressed Man

**Author's Note:** Chapter title and soundtrack is from ZZ Top this time, "Sharp Dressed Man." Enjoy.

**Spoilers:** Spoilers for _Twilight_, _New Moon_, _Eclipse_, _Breaking Dawn_, and all six seasons of "Supernatural."

**Disclaimer: "Supernatural" is the property of Kripke Enterprises and Warner Bros. Television. The Twilight Saga is the property of Stephenie Meyer and Little, Brown and Co. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from this work.**

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**Chapter 2 – Sharp Dressed Man**

Leah carefully released the curling iron from the little tendril of hair hanging by her left ear, and then stood back to scrutinize the final result with a critical eye. She smiled in pleasure at the image looking back out of the mirror.

_And all without an appointment at the hairdresser's._

Moving carefully so as not to disturb her flawlessly-smooth French twist, she unplugged the iron and reached for the hairspray, shellacking her hair into motionless perfection. She was bound and determined that, just as the brat decreed, everything about her appearance would be _perfect_. She wasn't going to let them get to her. They didn't matter—because today, there would actually be people in _her_ corner.

The boys hadn't been too keen on the idea—not with her first wild plan, anyway (and really, she didn't blame them). Well, Dean had been intrigued with the general idea of crashing a wedding, at the very least. But they were not particularly interested in crashing the wedding of a _werewolf_.

"No, guys," Leah had been quick to reassure them. "You've seen me: we're not like the ones you've hunted. We don't hurt people. We're not even really werewolves—we're some kind of shape-shifter, is all. We can still think and everything in animal form, and we don't eat human flesh—they won't hurt you."

"Well, maybe they won't hurt us if we just show up, but what if we start screwing around?" Sam had asked pointedly. "We've seen you in action, Leah; you're faster and stronger than most things we've seen before. And that's in your _human_ form—when you wolf out on us, you're even tougher. I don't like the idea of stirring up a whole pack of them."

"I'll be there to look out for you," she said insistently, aware that a whine was creeping into her voice but unable to stop it. "You don't understand, guys—I _can't_ do anything to piss them off. I _literally can't_. My alpha's got me in a mental headlock and can make me do whatever he says. I need you guys to do it for me."

They didn't look convinced. In retrospect, her attempt to placate them by saying that, "Seriously—they'll all be on their best behavior in front of the vampires," probably wasn't the best way to go.

"_Vampires?_ You want us to walk into a nest of werewolves _and_ vampires?" Dean demanded incredulously.

She backpedaled furiously, but by then it was too late. "No—they're not like those fangs we've hunted before. These are something else. They're not so animalistic—I don't think, anyway—and they're all so pretentious that they'll all be on good behavior too just to show each other up—and I know the brat won't let anyone mess up her wedding by eating somebody—"

She'd stopped then. She'd known that the plan was a bad one, and that they were right. "No," she conceded heavily. "You're right. I just—I really don't want to go back there—'cause I really hate those people. I just wish I could _get_ them—just once—to make up for how they treated me for years…but I can't ask you to do that." She turned away, gripping her elbows. "I can't even ask you to go—you're right about that, too. They're a bunch of douchebags at best, and at worst—well, as I understand it, there will be quite a few vampires there who _don't_ abstain from eating people the way the bride's family does."

She had sighed unhappily, and it had been quiet for a moment before Dean had spoken. "Well—look. If you're really sure that they're gonna be playing nice for the little wedding…we can still go. We'll just think of it as—as monster reconnaissance," he suggested. "I mean, these people-eating things? Those are clearly monsters, and from what you've said, they're like nothing we've seen before, so…" He shrugged. "We'll just go scope things out and take it as a chance to see how to kill 'em."

Leah had only given a humorless laugh. "That's just it—you can't. They're a bunch of arrogant assholes, but some part of it is understandable, at least. The only thing I've ever seen that can kill one of them is either another vampire or a wolf like me." She shook her head. "It'd be walking into a deathtrap—and there's only one of me. I don't think I could defend you both if someone took it into their heads to try something."

She honestly hadn't been trying to throw down a gauntlet—but of course, that's how they took it. "Leah," Sam had said in a deliberately patronizing voice. "We've faced down all the armies of both Hell _and_ Heaven—I think we can handle a few jerkass mutant vampires with delusions of grandeur."

"And anyway—walking into deathtraps is one of our specialties," Dean added cheekily.

"I don't know, guys," Leah had protested, only later reflecting on the oddity of them so rapidly switching positions in this argument. "If anything happened to you because you came along just to protect my 'delicate sensibilities'—it's just not worth it."

Dean was looking at her with a steady, slightly smug expression by this point; when she was finished, he raised his eyebrows. "Well—okay. So, you say that there is only one of you to look out for two of us. I get that. But what about if we took along a little extra life insurance, you know, someone else who could keep an eye out for us? Say, someone who I'd be willing to bet money could kill one of these things—and maybe even all of 'em at once."

He looked over at Sam, bouncing his brows with a self-satisfied smile, and they turned together back to Leah.

She honestly couldn't believe she'd never thought of it before. She supposed she'd grown so used to hearing both her pack and the vampires themselves talk about how great and invincible they were that some part of her had just started believing it.

Well. Even if they really were that great, between her own adventures and hearing about the ones the Winchesters had had, she now knew that there was always something greater.

An involuntary smile crawled across her face as she rummaged through her makeup bag. She couldn't wait to see how those sparkling jerkwads fared against an _angel_.

Castiel had been a little confused by the situation, but really, that was to be expected. The wedding, Leah's dysfunctional relationships, and the idea that they were deliberately going into a nest of monsters but were not going to kill them—that made no sense to him. However, the fact that it was a nest of _supercharged_ monsters and that they all—Leah included—very well might need some heavy-weight protection was clear enough. He'd agreed to come after not too much talk. Leah had been betting he would—it was more than obvious that he preferred to join them on their little adventures rather than sitting around playing his harp or whatever he did when he was upstairs. They'd arranged to meet up in Seattle in two weeks, as soon as they'd cleared out the den of skinwalkers they'd flushed out in the Georgia woods.

Leah leaned forward to apply her eyeliner; it was morning, but with the outfit she had, a darker look would work better. Not to mention that the idiot hellspawn had them all in evening dress at her morning wedding, but Leah doubted she'd know any better either way.

Once the job down in Dalton was finished, they'd taken off. The drive across the entire US had been long and tedious, even with all the stops to check out things like the World's Largest Ketchup Bottle outside of St. Louis. Leah had known better than to suggest that they just get Cas to zap them up there—there was not a chance in hell Dean would leave his car behind. She'd ridden around with the boys a few times when she'd met up with them on jobs, but never on a trip this long before. They should be glad she hadn't been the one driving—just a few hours of their seemingly endless bickering and she'd have turned the car around and taken them straight home in no time at all.

Leah had broken up their little spats from time to time with information about just what they were going to be walking into. She'd told them bits about the sorts of vampires and werewolves she was familiar with before, but then had been the first time she'd given them a complete run-down of what they were, how they worked, and all the ways they were different from the low-end fangs that she'd taken up hunting once she'd discovered them.

But that didn't take too long in the end, and they'd had a good three days of driving to fill with conversation. It was inevitable that they'd started asking other things—about who these people were, what they were like, and why she so badly didn't want to go back.

She didn't like to talk about it. Since joining their little team, she'd only ever spoken to Cas about it before, and then only briefly; all she'd ever really told the brothers was that she'd left because she disagreed with the others about her responsibility as a defender of humanity. Now, though, she'd reluctantly given them the general gist that, for whatever reason, she'd been singled out as the pack pariah and was treated accordingly.

She'd managed to deflect their interest from their behavior towards her by telling them about what they should expect at the wedding.

"_Ten?_ Are you _shitting_ me?"

"Nope," she'd said, taking a certain amount of sadistic glee in Dean's appalled reaction to that tidbit of information. "Hey—consider yourselves lucky—the only reason the bride is that old is because she wanted to wait. If the groom had _his_ way, they'd have been married when she was seven."

"That isn't even _legal_—never mind the fact that it's just _wrong_," Sam had said firmly; Dean was apparently still locked up.

Leah shrugged, leaning over the back of the front seats. "Hey—she looks legal, and she apparently wants it, so it's gonna happen. Believe me—in this family, whatever Baby wants, Baby gets. That's just the way it is."

"It's _sick_, is what it is—what the hell, man?" Dean finally managed.

She snorted. "Well, the bride aged faster than your average human—no idea why, given that she's half-vampire. I'd have thought she'd age slower. She was pretty much full-grown by the time she was seven—and no one seemed to question her mental maturity, just because she could read early and stuff." She shrugged and blew a breath out through her nose before she added, "But, either way, it doesn't really matter. Jacob—that's my pack leader, by the way—had decided he was gonna marry her the day she was born."

"…_What?_"

It always cracked her up when they accidentally spoke in unison. "You heard me," she said; she hadn't thought about it in so long that she'd actually managed to suppress her own revulsion to the whole situation, but seeing it through the eyes of her new friends was reawakening the horror.

"Jesus—I thought if we went to this vampire-werewolf confab, we'd get Kate Beckinsale in leather—not Humbert and Delores!"

Leah chuckled humorlessly. "It's called 'imprinting.' Apparently after we change, the males of my kind of wolves develop this fixation on someone as their 'perfect mate' or something. That's what happened to me, you know—only from the other end," she found herself saying. "I was engaged a guy in my tribe, but when he turned wolf, he decided he liked my cousin better and dropped me like a hot potato."

The words were bitter, and she hadn't meant to say them; she turned to look out the window when she saw the disbelieving sympathy in Sam's face when he glanced back at her and the shocked pity in Dean's eyes in the rearview mirror. "She turned him down, though," she said to the window with false lightness, "at least until he tore her face off for it. Now they're married and working on their sixth kid, last I heard."

There was a long, tense silence. "And I thought our family was screwed up," Sam said at last.

Leah had only snorted, and then changed the subject to the vampires. Having met angels and demons (and herself, for that matter), the boys had no trouble accepting their supercharged abilities—although they definitely didn't like the idea of all those extra things so many of them could do.

"I really don't think they're gonna screw with you like that," Leah told them. "These vampires—they're not what you're used to. They're not living on the outskirts, foraging for food. They're pretty much entrenched where they are, living the good life right in amongst the humans." She scowled down at the upholstery. "What they _really_ are is a bunch of self-righteous pricks—there's no way to sugarcoat that. They aren't going to eat you, but I can promise you that they'll treat you like crap. They have egos on 'em the size of the Brooklyn Bridge and their heads so far up their own asses that they don't even consider humans people, far as I can tell. They've certainly made it more than clear that they consider me and my kind nothing but animals."

"Wait—but your pack leader is _marrying_ one of them?"

"Ridiculous, isn't it?" she agreed. She shook her head. "I've given up trying to understand any of them—and frankly, I don't want to. They can just live out their smug, pompous lives doing nothing but spending money and looking down on everyone else—I want no part of it. Me? I help people—and I don't care what they think of me."

She just kept telling herself that. Through their third day of travel, she found that she had less to say and just ended up borrowing Sam's iPod to drown out the squabbling from the front. She'd curled up on the back seat to watch the scenery flash by until they had finally arrived in Seattle, taking out a motel room on the west side of the city—the one they were in now.

Leah flicked her mascara brush over her lashes and then examined her handiwork. She had very nice eyelashes, she decided, turning her head from side to side to gauge the effect. She was going light on the makeup today—she wasn't about to show up with the stuff troweled on like her "makeup appointment" with the spawn and her coterie no doubt would have left her—they all seemed to have this sick attitude that if you weren't a vampire, then obviously the only way you could come close to their perfection was through artificial means. Well, she may not be a sparkling blow-up doll, she thought with no little ferocity, but she wasn't chopped liver, either. With her hair up, her eyes defined, and some shimmer on her lips, she looked pretty damn good. And her outfit was just going to top things off.

They'd hit Seattle two days before the wedding—plenty long enough to get settled into a motel and then go find some clothes. The boys had it easy—they could just nip down and find a tux rental place (a task that was admittedly complicated a bit by the presence of Castiel, who had no idea what to do, nor even why they were doing it). Leah, on the other hand, had seen to their clothes before absconding with a couple of their illegal credit cards and hitting the bridal shops in the mall on her own.

So, yes, her dress was off the rack, and at $200 on sale it was dirt cheap by the uppity Cullens' standards, but screw them—it was _fine_. It was a long, slinky red sheath that hugged her body tightly and made the most of her relatively limited curves while highlighting her wolf-imparted muscle tone. It was strapless and showed off her shoulders and her collarbones, and she liked it. It was even red, just like the brat wanted, not to mention classic and "traditional" in the cut—but she'd be damned if she was getting any beadwork. _Why not just go the whole hog and ask me to wear fringe and moccasins and feathers in my hair, you little bitch_, she thought angrily. She'd instead rounded out her look with a pair of new, strappy black T-buckle stilettos, and so now she felt ready to take on anything.

In the spirit of sexy rebellion, she'd detoured through Victoria's Secret on her way through the mall. She'd found a lovely black satin ensemble consisting of a tiny pair of panties and a gorgeous basque—which was _beaded_, she'd discovered to her vicious delight. She was almost sorry that she was skipping pantyhose—she'd have felt deliciously naughty showing up at the prim and perfect Cullens' wearing those underwear along with a garter belt and silk stockings. Ah, well—as the philosopher Jagger once said, you can't always get what you want.

She was wearing her underwear and shoes now as she put the finishing touches on her face. Her dress was hanging on the back of the door, still in its wrapper; she'd wondered if it would have been worth it to leave it out in the room, just for the satisfaction of being able to waltz out of the bathroom to put it on as she was now, just to see the looks on the boys' faces. Becoming a wolf had pretty much stripped her of all modesty, and it wasn't as if they hadn't seen her naked before when she transformed. However, they hadn't seen her all dolled up before, and she knew that despite what _some_ people thought, less was more; she knew that being covered as she was was way sexier than just being naked.

But, no—she unwrapped the dress and shimmied into it in the bathroom, not even taking the opportunity to go out and try and rattle Cas by asking him to zip her up. She smoothed the satiny fabric over her hips, her mouth curling in unconscious pleasure at the feel of the material against her skin. She was more comfortable in her jeans and a tee and sneakers, but she couldn't deny the little thrill of feminine satisfaction she felt at getting dressed up.

Her smile widened as she turned and picked up the velvety box sitting innocuously on the edge of the sink. There was an element of feminine pleasure there, too—but she was well aware that it was mostly vindictive spite that warmed the cockles of her heart when she contemplated its contents.

Dean and Sam had dropped her off right in the heart of downtown to go shopping; she could tell by their exchanged looks that they were turning her loose in the more fashionable district, which meant they'd picked up from her comments on the Cullens that she'd need (and want) something on the nicer end of things. They had the good grace not to say anything, and as un-subtle as it may have been, she appreciated the thought. Overall, she'd been a pretty cheap date, but had been wandering through the streets toward their planned rendezvous point with her plastic-covered dress slung over her shoulder when it happened.

She really hadn't been paying much attention to her surroundings as she walked down Pine, but the glittering display in the large glass windows that fronted the store had been impossible to miss. She'd stopped, and realized that she was standing in front of Tiffany's. And there, nestled in white satin in the main display case, was a necklace and earring set, subtle and sophisticated, of rubies and diamonds in gold—perfect for her dress.

She'd left in a hurry. That was ridiculous, she told herself. There was no way she'd manage to pull off that purchase on her fraudulent credit card. She needed jewelry with her neckline, yes, but she'd make do with whatever was quick and easy and she could rustle up at a Wal-Mart or something—or she would just go without. There was simply no way she could get anything like that. Her sharp wolf eyes had spotted the price—cool at a quarter million. She supposed she could break in—their security measures were nothing to one of her size and strength and speed—but it wouldn't exactly be inconspicuous.

No. It was childish, anyway, not to mention petty, to want to show up wearing something that would merit the Cullen Stamp of Approval. She didn't need to prove herself. She would _not_ lower herself to their level…although the looks on their faces would be _so_ worth it—

A honk had jolted her out of her reverie, and she looked up at the low rumble of the Impala's engine as it slid up to the curb. She flashed a smile at the passengers and went around the back, rapping on the trunk lid so that she could put her purchases inside when Dean popped it open. Then she slid into the back seat—next to Cas.

Castiel. The angel.

She'd given up. She'd told him it was stupid and childish and ridiculous and that she was outright using him to do something wrong—but could he please, please, _please_ zap in there later tonight and yoink that jewelry for her? She promised to give it back!

"Give it back?" Dean demanded. "Are you kidding? Do you have any idea what we could sell that for?"

"Maybe a tenth of what it was worth—if we were lucky," Sam answered pragmatically. "More likely we'd just get arrested for trying to fence stolen property."

"Exactly," Leah said firmly. "And anyway, I'm not going to ask him to _steal_ for me—especially not for something so stupid. I just…I just want to _borrow_ it. I just want…" She'd trailed off, unwilling to say what she just wanted, but her friends seem to know all the same.

"Well, then, what do you say, Cas?" Dean queried after a moment, looking in the rearview mirror at Cas's concerned face. "The lady needs to look the part for this shindig. Gonna help out the damsel in distress?"

Leah eased open the plush case, and she couldn't help but grin. The blood-red stones shone darkly up at her, the fire of the diamonds that surrounded each one playing over her face. She gently lifted the collar of stones from the case and fastened it 'round her neck; it was cool against her flesh, and came to rest just at the hollow of her throat. The earrings were next, and then she stepped back and took in the finished product, and she smiled.

It was, in a word, _perfect_.

She took a deep breath, and then turned and swung open the bathroom door—but she stopped short at the sight that greeted her, and she couldn't help the lazy, catlike grin that spread over her face.

Three sets of black-jacketed shoulders greeted her: one broad, one lean, and one wiry. Her eyes wandered involuntarily downward to check out the view from below, and she was not disappointed.

Dean was fussing, of course. "Man, I hate wearing these things," he groused, tugging at his collar. "And you remember what happened the last time we had to get dressed up like this."

Sam had zero sympathy. "Yeah, I do—I spent the whole evening as cougar bait," he said flatly.

Dean stopped, looked over at his brother with a contemplative air, and then in a distinctly amused voice said, "You're right—I guess the evening wasn't a total loss."

Cas seemed to notice no difference in his wardrobe, simply standing still to the side, as usual. Leah gave them all one last once-over, a small, visceral thrill running through her belly at the thought of having such fine escorts (and all to herself, no less), before she flicked off the bathroom light and cleared her throat, announcing her presence.

Years before, back when she was still human, Leah had been aware of the fact that she was pretty. She wasn't arrogant about it, but she wasn't falsely modest, either. She'd had her share of male attention, and had enjoyed primping and dressing up. But her years as a wolf had more or less beaten that out of her—years spent in the minds of men who couldn't stand her, who ignored her, who she was forced to be naked in front of and yet who wrote her off as somehow unworthy had a way of making her forget that she was attractive.

But now, as they all three turned, and she felt the caress of their eyes upon her, she suddenly remembered, and she fought to keep the smile from her face. She looked up at Sam and Dean's appreciative looks and said with false nervousness, "Okay, guys—tell me honestly."

She did a slow turn where she stood, showing them the full three-sixty before she went ahead and smiled, and she asked with mock seriousness, "Would you do me?"

A sleazy grin stretched Dean's mouth, and he said roughly, "Oh, hell, yeah."

She smirked back at him before looking to Sam, who gave her another obvious once-over and then said, "I think I'm gonna have to go with a yes on that, too."

She beamed, and then turned to Cas. He was watching the proceedings impassively, and it seemed to take him a moment to realize that he was expected to provide an answer—but it was obvious that he didn't even understand that there was a question.

Dean looked torn between amusement and disgust. "I don't think we need to ask him—we all know he would," he said.

Cas's brows knitted. "Would what?"

Sam snorted, and Leah rolled her eyes. "Let me rephrase that for you," she said, putting her hands on her hips with a saucy look. "Cas, would you have sex with me?"

He looked startled, blinking at her with a wide-eyed expression. He cut his eyes over to the Winchesters, who were watching him with raised eyebrows, and then back to Leah with no little trepidation. He licked his lips, hesitated, and then uncertainly asked, "Now?"

"No—later," Leah answered briskly over the revolted laughter of the other two. "Well!" she said brightly, turning to them. "I think that means we're pretty much ready. Oh—one thing," she added, crossing the room to where the boys' clothes were spread out over the beds. The rough fabric of the trench coat was easily identifiable, and she snatched it up. "This is a must," she said firmly, draping it over Cas's shoulders and coaxing his arms into the sleeves. "You're not you without it."

Then she scooped up her red wrap and her little black clutch, took a deep, fortifying breath, and turned to face them. "Let's roll."

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Author's Note:

Leah's line about the philosopher Jagger is obviously a reference to the Rolling Stones, but the line itself is actually from an episode of "House." In either case, it was too perfect to not use in the fic. 


	3. Indian Love Call

**Author's Note:** This chapter…requires some explanation.

This chapter kicks off our POV switches—specifically, it's a short little thing from Jacob's POV. It's mostly done to show how almost everyone at this shindig is going to be viewing our intrepid hunters, because we figured that would be useful for the narrative as a comparison between the characters/canons. However, Mrs. Hyde and I are some of the most serious canon sticklers you will ever see in your lives—whatever the canon in question is, whether we like it or not, we stick to it _no matter what_. So, when we decided to write from Jacob's POV, I suggested we not only do it in first person, but…try to do it in Meyer's style. I don't mean an exaggerated, over-the-top version, either—you know, the one that most people use when writing _Twilight_ parodies, with cloyinly purple prose and the word "chagrin" in every other sentence. I mean the real deal—that we should try to write _just like her_.

As such, you are going to notice a serious, _serious_ style change here and it's not necessarily going to be a good one. In my opinion, it's probably the worst thing I've ever written in my life. But it has a purpose, so I may as well let it serve it. Any typos, mistakes, or instances of general bad writing that you find are entirely intentional, but I apologize for them all the same.

The song in the title and the soundtrack for this one is "Indian Love Call" by Slim Whitman.

**Spoilers:** Spoilers for _Twilight_, _New Moon_, _Eclipse_, _Breaking Dawn_, and all six seasons of "Supernatural."

**Disclaimer: "Supernatural" is the property of Kripke Enterprises and Warner Bros. Television. The Twilight Saga is the property of Stephenie Meyer and Little, Brown and Co. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from this work.**

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**Chapter 3 - Indian Love Call**

The sun was shining bright, a few picture-perfect white clouds the only things marring the clear blue sky. There was a very light breeze, but it wasn't strong enough to cause problems at the party. Alice's predictions about how the weather would be today had turned out to be 100% true—and it was very lucky for her they had. Her powers were unreliable enough as it was; I wasn't going to let her screw up Nessie's wedding day.

I glanced up the long, decorated walkway that served as a well-marked trail all the way to the pavilion where I would soon be getting married to the most beautiful, most important person on the face of the earth.

My stomach twisted a little nervously, but I knew a lot of it was anticipation—even though all of this was ultimately for Ness, some small part of it was for me. She was going to be my wife. We were going to be together.

I'd agreed immediately to wait, of course, even though I'd wanted to three years ago. But she hadn't been ready—she had wanted to go through a year or two of high school, and to just travel around. I admit, going around the world with her had been a lot of fun, but I ultimately just wanted to settle down with her.

A new thrill ran down my spine—because I _was_ finally getting to settle down with her. In a few short hours, she'd be my wife. We already had a house ready for us to move into after the honeymoon, nearby the rest of the Cullens; Nessie couldn't stand to be away from her family for very long. We'd spend the day with the guests and her family, and then off for a month, taking a circuitous route to our final destination in Athens, the Royal Villa at Grand Resort Lagonissi. Nessie had insisted, saying she didn't want to spend her honeymoon in the same spot her parents did—said it would feel weird, and to be perfectly honest, I agreed. She'd decided on the Royal Villa when she had discovered how exclusive it was—it was perfect for the privacy we both wanted on the trip. Edward—that felt weird, too, knowing he was now going to be my father-in-law—had already promised to foot the entire bill, insisting that money was no problem.

I gave another unnecessary glance up the walkway, my sharp eyes looking for any imperfection, anything that needed correcting, anything that might spoil this day in the slightest for my Renesmee. I looked back the opposite direction, where the walkway curved around a massive piece of driftwood and out of sight, searching for the same thing. Of course there was nothing.

_Yet._

I felt my brows pull together as an automatic scowl marred my features, a result of my being rather forcefully reminded of just why I was out here. It wasn't just to enjoy a few more minutes before I put on a tux and got all fancy (but it was ultimately worth it, because I was doing it for Ness)—I was here to greet a guest.

A very _unpleasant_ guest.

I still wasn't sure why Nessie wanted Leah here. I couldn't think of anyone who really _did_ want her to show back up for the wedding—Bella certainly hadn't been eager to see her stepsister again, and none of the pack members thought she really needed to come to the wedding, not even Seth. I guess Nessie's love of large crowds had superseded her dislike for Leah. That, and her unending generosity—even after the way Leah treated her, she was still kind enough and generous enough to invite her to her wedding and spend money on her and make her feel welcome. I couldn't help but smile slightly—Nessie had always been one to smile in the face of adversity. Right from the moment she was born.

I knew Leah wouldn't come, though, unless _told_ to—before she'd left, she was overly-fond of making Nessie mad, being deliberately contradictory, refusing to do anything Nessie wanted. My poor girl had come running to me more than once, upset and nearly crying, because of something Leah had done. I thought it was horrible, the way Leah resented her. There had been a time where I was sure Leah had gotten over her fits of jealousy that she was prone to. Apparently not. Who knew what she'd do once she saw this wedding; just another reminder of something she'd never have. And whose fault was that, I wondered.

And that was why I was here—waiting impatiently for her to finally show up. Even though I'd made sure she wouldn't have a chance to throw Renesmee's gesture back in her face just out of spite, by ordering her to come to the wedding, I'd called her repeatedly over the past two weeks, trying to pin down exactly when she planned on arriving. Nessie had fortunately had the foresight to remember that Leah didn't exactly have a car. Running to the wedding in whatever dress she managed to find would dirty it up. Yeah, that was something she'd probably do just to get out of the wedding, or even just to call attention to herself. I'd finally managed to make her promise to show up at nine—that'd give her plenty of time to get cleaned up by the rest of the girls. Alice had been particularly insistent that she get there early. She didn't need her vision to know that she would be wise to ignore Leah's petulant demands that she get her own dress. They still had her measurements from when Leah had been a bridesmaid at Sam and Emily's wedding. So now they had a dress on hand for her. We all knew there was no way Leah would find a dress that would go well with the wedding. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd even seen her in make-up. Not to mention she wouldn't have a single bit of jewelry to wear.

I was not going to allow her to ruin my girl's wedding just by looking like her usual ragged self.

I glanced back down at my watch—it was only a few minutes until nine, and she still wasn't here. She was really trying my patience—I was irritated enough, having to spend an entire twenty-four hours without seeing Renesmee. She'd wanted to go by the old "can't see the bride for twenty-four hours" routine, for good luck. I'd agreed, of course, but that didn't make it any easier.

I comforted myself trying to imagine just what she'd look like, walking down the aisle. Stupid endeavor, though. I knew my imagination couldn't possible come up with anything that would could possibly compare to what she'd really look like all dressed up in her wedding dress. For seven years she spent every day becoming more and more beautiful, but it hadn't stopped there—she was truly a miracle that way. I didn't know what kind of dress she would be wearing today; all I knew was that Alice was putting even more effort into this one than she had for even Bella's. And rightfully so.

I wanted to get back and get ready myself—even if Leah would probably only be passable at the party, _I_ at least was going to be just what Nessie wanted.

As I turned on my heel to pace the opposite direction for the four-hundred-and-eleventh time, I suddenly froze. Almost every hair on my body suddenly stood on end as the air seemed to…_charge_ for a second, all of it seeming to bend and push outward from some point nearby. My ears heard a strange noise—a weird rustling sound that I swore was almost like _wings_ flapping. But it was impossible—the sound was too huge, too deep, and there was something else with it, some strange _hum_ that both felt and sounded like pure, raw electricity. A strong breeze ruffled my hair, and I cringed as the smell of—I swore it was _ozone_—got up my nose.

And then it was gone. All of it, as quickly as it had come. It had barely lasted more than a second, but it left me shaken and rattled (and almost _itchy_) and glancing wildly around for whatever had caused it.

That's when I heard footsteps—four sets, coming around the driftwood tree on the walkway. I stared, my ears now catching the faint thud of three heartbeats, and then…four people came around the corner.

I blinked. It took me a few seconds to realize that one of them was Leah. She was wearing a deep red strapless dress that hugged her figure, no wrinkles visible in the smooth fabric. She had a tiny black purse in one hand, and the red wrap that was on her elbows fluttered slightly in the breeze. The heels of her black T-buckle shoes clicked methodically up the path, and the gemstones around her neck and dangling from her ears glinted in the sunlight. But her surprisingly decent (and feminine) appearance couldn't hold my attention for long—not when I saw the three men she had with her.

Two of them weren't worth a second glance. Humans, both kind of tall, dressed in tuxes and obviously here for the wedding. The taller of the two had longer hair that was a little shaggy. Both of them were looking at me with a bit of a wary expression, even though the shorter one had a fading grin, each of them with one of Leah's arms through the crooks of their elbows.

It was the third man that caught my attention after I'd given him the first perfunctory glance. He was easily the shortest one present—Leah's heels apparently gave her a few inches over him—and he wore a beige trench coat over his tux. He wasn't touching any of them, and was keeping one step behind the other three, and he was staring right at me—actually, it was more like _through_ me. His bright blue eyes burned with an unblinking intensity that was unsettling. But even that wasn't the part that had me uncomfortable.

Three heartbeats. Four people.

As they drew closer, I could tell—that man had no heartbeat.

I didn't say anything, keeping my eyes on Leah—I didn't want to look at that guy anymore, even though he still hadn't stopped staring at me. Leah finally came to a halt five feet away from me, her companions stopping with her.

My hair stood on end again, that weird electric feeling in the air—barely there this time, but still there, as if I were standing next to a power line. Just a low vibration that was a hum just a little too deep for me to really _hear_, but so deep that I could _feel_ it, almost right down to my bones. The breeze wafted their scents over me—Leah's familiar wolfish scent, somewhat masked by some cheap perfume, and the smell of two humans—wait, was that _sulfur_ I smelled? And the guy in the coat—did he even _have_ a smell?

"Well," Leah said suddenly, nearly startling me. "We have a welcoming committee. Hello, Jacob."

That snapped me back to attention. I cleared my throat, straightening up to my full height (which was taller than all of them) and regarding all four of them. I gestured at her companions. "What is up with this?" I asked, wanting to know just why she had brought three people with her.

Leah glanced at them all. "They're my dates," she said, shrugging. "Renesmee said people could bring them."

I raised an eyebrow. "Your dates," I repeated flatly. "All three of them?"

Leah nodded. "Yes. I converted to Mormonism while I was away. These are my wives," she said blandly.

"_Wives?_"

"Yeah," said the one to her right, with the shorter hair and the smug smile. "I'm Mrs. Dean Clearwater," he began, and then he pointed to the tallest with the long hair and the weird smell. "That's my brother, Mrs. Sam Clearwater." He pointed to the last one, with the trench coat, who was standing unnaturally still—as still as a vampire. "That's Cas."

I pursed my lips. "Leah, Nessie didn't exactly expect you to bring a date, much less _dates_, and considering they are—"

"Human, yes," Leah interrupted. "But Renesmee didn't even ask if I _had_ a date. I assumed it was allowed, because she said other people could bring people if they wanted to. Plus, they're all three in on the secret. They know exactly what to expect."

I glared at her. "What—you just _told_ them? You know that's not allowed. How did you do that?"

"She didn't exactly _tell_ us, but she saved us when we were in a tight spot," Sam suddenly said. "And we've known about vampires for a while. Much longer than we've known her, at any rate."

"Basically, we already know it's gonna look like we just got thrown back into a seventies dance club," Dean added. "So no worries."

His almost mocking demeanor vaguely confused me—I'd never met a human who knew the truth that acted this way around my kind, or talked about vampires like that. I wasn't really sure he understood just what he was going to be hanging around with—Leah must have underplayed them to make herself look better.

Speaking of, Leah sighed, and the sound brought me back to her. "They're just good friends of mine, Jacob, it's really no—"

I cut her off. "You still should've told us they were coming. Bringing one friend is one thing, but three? Especially when Ness expected you to come alone."

Leah was giving me that insolent look she always did when she knew she was in trouble, but she thankfully stayed quiet.

I cleared my throat, turning to her friends. "I'm Jacob Black—you said your name was Dean?" I said, holding out my hand to the shorter one of the brothers.

"Yeah—Dean Winchester," he replied, taking my hand with obvious wariness, but giving it a firm handshake for a human.

I turned to his brother. "Then you're _Sam_ Winchester?" I asked with a raised eyebrow as he too gripped my hand with surprising firmness—and surprisingly high temperature. He nodded an affirmative.

I glanced briefly at Leah, knowing she wouldn't miss the pointed look. She didn't disappoint, and her eyes narrowed. I turned to her third companion, mostly to make it clear I wasn't interested in any comments from her, almost holding out my hand but deciding against it.

"And you are Cas…?" I trailed off, waiting for a last name. When he didn't offer anything but a small nod, I felt the need to prompt him. "Cas what?"

His head tilted very slightly. "Castiel."

His voice was low and gravelly, like he was just recovering from a sore throat. I'd never heard of a name like Castiel—at least, not for a human. There would be plenty of weird names at the wedding today, but so many of them went to vampires. And that wasn't all he had in common with them—it wasn't possible, but I heard no heartbeat, heard no breathing, and I was positive that he hadn't blinked once this whole time. The only things moving on him were his coat and his hair, ruffled slightly in the breeze on the beach. But he _wasn't_ a vampire. That was impossible—he _looked_ human, and there was no sickly-sweet smell. I still couldn't get over that there was _no_ smell.

I could only hold his gaze for a few seconds longer as his piercing sapphire eyes felt like they were boring into my skull. I turned away, straightening and focusing solely on Leah. She spoke before I could.

"Jacob, I have to ask," she began somewhat delicately, but she wasn't fooling me—I could still hear that tone that meant she was gonna bring something up she knew she shouldn't. "These guys are my friends, but they _are_ humans—there isn't going to be a risk of someone thinking they're part of the catering, right?"

I rolled my eyes. "Leah, you seriously think we'd overlook something like that? There is no chance of that—we gave very clear instructions. All the vampires have already eaten, so nobody will be hungry. Your friends'll be fine."

I didn't miss the way Leah's jaw clenched—it was impossible, what with the way her teeth were grinding. The Winchesters were staring hard at me, and I recognized that look—it was close to the one Leah gave me when she first found out about the vampires who came down to protect Renesmee ten years ago.

I ignored it—as much as they bragged that they knew all about the vampires and werewolves, they very clearly didn't. I instead decided to change the subject and finally get to the main point of this meeting.

"Well," I began, gesturing to her outfit. "You look all right."

"Thank you," she said flatly.

"We bought a dress for you anyway, though—we didn't think you'd have one," I continued.

"I _did_ say I'd find something appropriate," she sighed.

"You be sure and find Alice anyway," I said, letting a little authority seep into my voice. "You know Ness wanted everyone to match—Alice knows more about fashion and matching than you ever will. You should have plenty of time to change and clean up just in case."

I saw Leah's chin jut a little, and there was no way I was gonna tolerate that—not today.

I crossed my arms across my chest. "Leah, this is Nessie's big day. She doesn't want anything going wrong," I growled.

"I have no intention—" she began, that huffy whine that she'd never gotten rid of seeping into her voice.

I cut across her. "Oh, I know you don't. That's just it—sometimes, I don't think you intentionally do what you do. Can't help your personality."

Leah's eyes tightened angrily, but she said absolutely nothing. The Winchesters stared incredulously at the scenario unfolding before them, their gaze switching between me and Leah rapidly.

I resisted snorting with laughter—which was partly because Castiel was observing the whole thing with an expression that was making me edgy.

"Look," I said. "You know why I came down here to meet you—you didn't exactly leave us on good terms. I let you go, but now that you are back, I expect you to at least fake the most pleasant expressions you can manage. Don't you dare say anything to my Nessie to upset her. After all the crap you put her through while you were here, you'd better appreciate her inviting you back and trying to make you feel like part of the family again." I wasn't using the Alpha order, but my tone made it clear that I was not afraid to do it.

Leah stared at some point behind me in the sand, her head ducked a little. She finally raised her eyes to meet mine, her face a smooth mask.

"I understand, Jacob," she murmured, and then went back to looking at the ground.

I nodded briefly, pleased that it hadn't taken any time at all to make her remember her place and reign in that insufferable attitude. I was afraid that four years away from the pack would make her get uppity again.

"Okay. You guys go on—I've gotta get ready. Remember to sign the guest book, and you remember to see Alice," I ordered.

Leah just nodded, her eyes still on the sand, only looking back up when they started walking away. Sam and Dean gave me one last amazed look before moving with her. Castiel lingered for a small second, regarding me steadily and silently, and as he stared not at me but through me, eyes hard as the gemstones they resembled, that weird electric vibe seemed to _pulse_, and I instinctively cringed back—

And then he turned and walked that single pace behind the other three, his trench coat flaring slightly in the breeze. The low thrum faded, and then I was alone, just watching them stride up the walkway silently.

Once they disappeared around the turn, I shook myself and began trotting to where I'd be getting ready with Seth and Quil—Quil being my best man. I put them out of my mind—I didn't know exactly what was up with that guy, but I really didn't have a lot of time to worry about it. I thought back on the conversation that had gone down, but more importantly that I was getting even closer to finally marrying my Ness, and that thought cheered me bit, and soon I had put Leah's trench-coated friend out of my mind.

Everything had gone well. I was positive I'd have no trouble from Leah now. And her guests—her _dates_, if that was really what they were—it was more than obvious that Leah had been lording over them while she was away from the pack.

I smirked. Judging from their expressions, they were rather surprised that she had been made to submit to someone. Well, hopefully that would teach them to realize that there was always someone—or _something_—more powerful down the line.

**

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Author's Note:

For anybody who noticed it…yes, "reign in that insufferable attitude" was intentional. Meyer makes that error in pretty much every single one of her novels, so I figured, you know. Realism. 


	4. The Stroke

**Author's Note:** Okay, now we're back on an even keel. But not quite time to get back to Leah's POV. Figured we needed to get everybody's perspective for this to work. (Except Castiel's, because his opinion is strictly, "This makes no sense, these things are abominations and monsters, and I'm going to stand over here and be holy.") So—time for a look at what Sam thinks of all this! Chapter title and soundtrack is from the Billy Squier song "The Stroke."

**Spoilers:** Spoilers for _Twilight_, _New Moon_, _Eclipse_, _Breaking Dawn_, and all six seasons of "Supernatural."

**Disclaimer: "Supernatural" is the property of Kripke Enterprises and Warner Bros. Television. The Twilight Saga is the property of Stephenie Meyer and Little, Brown and Co. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from this work.**

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**Chapter 4 – The Stroke**

As they made their way up the beach to where they'd been directed, Sam found himself oddly reminded of his and Dean's…well, their pissing contests. Any time one showed an aptitude for something, the other would automatically counter with his own superiority in some other aspect of whatever they were discussing. Over the years, they'd tended to find that in just about anything they fought over, in the end the skills of one complemented the other. While Dean could throw a knife farther, Sam was more accurate. On the other hand, while Sam was a quicker draw with a gun, Dean tended to be the better shot. Sam was definitely the superior when it came to research and computer work, but Dean aced him every time when it came down to hands-on mechanical skills.

However, there was _no_ contest when it came to enduring uncomfortable silences—Dean had never been able to stand them, and Sam could tell just by the way he kept coughing and glancing at Leah that he was near his breaking point.

To be fair, just because Sam was faring _better_ in the silence didn't mean he was faring _well_.

Leah had told them plenty of horror stories about her family, and Sam had thought he'd been prepared for what they were walking into. Not only that, but he supposed, in the back of his mind, he'd been assuming that most of what Leah had said was so outrageous that there was simply no way it wasn't exaggerated. Not that he blamed her for it; no one could drive you crazy like family.

But now, after just one encounter with one person, he was already starting to wonder if maybe she hadn't actually _toned it down_ when she was telling them what to expect. Either way, he was dreading what was waiting for them at the end of the walkway.

Dean coughed again, and Sam wasn't surprised when he spoke shortly afterwards. "So, uh—that's your pack leader?" he asked. "Your, ah, alpha?"

Leah was looking at the ground, holding her elbows tightly. "Yeah," she said quietly. She looked up and gave him a wan smile. "Natural born leader, isn't he?" she quipped, but without her usual acid.

Sam flicked his eyes over her head to meet Dean's; from his expression, it was obvious that he didn't know what to make of this meek version of Leah, either. "Natural born jerk," Sam tossed out in hopes of getting more of a response, but all he got was another one of those tiny smiles that flitted across her face and was gone as soon as it had appeared.

Sam could see she didn't want talk to about him. That didn't stop Dean, though. "So was he, you know—" he waved his hands vaguely, "doing that mind-control order thing?"

Leah wouldn't meet their eyes. "No—but he was threatening it. I could tell."

They didn't speak any more; the only sounds were the breaking of the waves on the rocky shore and the click of their dress shoes on the artificial pathway of white gravel that had been laid down along the beach, further marked out with small gardenia trees festooned with white ribbons in white pots, and lined with long swaths of white tulle twined with ropes of twinkling white lights. Sam didn't want to know how much time and money had gone into it—was still going into it, actually, as getting electricity all the way out here couldn't have been cheap.

They wound their way down over the unnaturally pristine path through rough and wild terrain. Leah had definitely been toning it down when talking about the scenery out here at her old home. Behind them stretched an enormous expanse of impossibly green jungle, covering the low, rolling hills that led down towards the ocean. To the west, the blue of the Pacific pounded against the beach, cresting high to crash against the massive towers of jagged rock that jutted up from the water. It felt wild and untamed out here, and Anglo-centric though it might have been, Sam couldn't help feeling as if he were some explorer or mountain man seeing the American wilderness for the first time.

Leah would probably punch him for espousing such a view, seeing as her tribe had been settled here for probably close to 4,000 years. Well—two days ago she might have punched him. Now Sam had the unpleasant feeling that she wouldn't do anything at all.

The path wound down alongside an enormous toppled tree, the bark stripped with time and the wood worn smooth and salty by the sea. It was taller than them even on its side. Sam couldn't help but be impressed by its size and by the shapes of the twisted and knotted tangle of roots at its base as they walked around it.

But as it happened, the tree was the only thing blocking their view of the rest of the beach, and as they rounded the base, they all stopped dead at the sight of what awaited them.

It was…_white_. Huge and frilly and flowery and _white_. An enormous, eye-blindingly white pavilion stood garishly out against the darker, more natural tones of the surrounding beach. Its tented top rose up in an arc reminiscent of a circus big top, and it was dripping fringe and tassels and frothing with swags and poofs and rosettes of white tulle and white ribbon. Beneath it were rows and rows of white chairs, draped with more white swags and white ribbons, a long white aisle leading between them to a white-draped altar that was near buried in white flower arrangements, and all around the back and sides were white pots and urns holding rigidly manicured topiaries, bursting with white flowers and fluttering with white ribbon. Round tables swathed in white linens and topped with white centerpieces were clustered together to form a seating area, and an actual white baby grand piano stood off to one side. Strings of white lights wrapped the elaborate supporting posts, flickered in the flowered bushes, lined the walks and the perimeters, and even twinkled obnoxiously from the surrounding rocks and driftwood, as if trying to disguise their natural appearance.

Against the wild, rugged backdrop of the shore, the artful and over-the-top arrangement stuck out like a sore thumb.

"My God," said Dean with a sort of horrified wonder.

Sam struggled for the appropriate metaphor, finally settling on, "It's like…Circus Barbie meets the KKK."

"What do you know about Circus Barbie?" Dean asked after a moment; Sam just gave him a withering look as Leah snickered.

"Well, really, it has the same look as just about every other party they've ever thrown…but I have to say that they have actually managed to outdo themselves this time," Leah said wearily. Sam looked disbelievingly at her, still trying to imagine the sort of people who would think this affront to the eyes was _tasteful_.

Leah rather nervously tugged her little wrap around her arms, but then straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. "Well—here we go, guys. You with us back there, Cas?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Of course," came the low reply.

"Well—you keep an eye out. I know nobody will try anything, but watch out for these guys all the same," she said, gesturing at Sam and Dean. "You know they like to get into trouble."

Castiel nodded in serious agreement. Dean looked stung by their complicity. "Hey—don't you worry about us—we can take care of ourselves," he insisted.

Leah just rolled her eyes before threading her arms through their elbows, setting her jaw, and striding forward.

As they resumed their trek, Dean couldn't seem to stop boggling over the whole exhibition. "You say they always do stuff like this?" he asked.

Leah shrugged with forced nonchalance. "Yeah. The bride's parents' wedding was like this, and all ten of Renesmee's birthdays, and all their high school graduations…" she trailed off with a sigh.

Dean stared at her, and then shook his head wildly. "So, is Liberace their decorator, or what?" he demanded.

A ghost of a smile crossed Leah's face. "No—just Alice." Sam spotted a tiny, defiant sparkle in her eye. "She prides herself on her fashion sense."

Dean snorted rudely and made a few more muttered comments on the gayness of the whole setup before falling silent as they approached the perimeter.

Sam was torn; he knew he was walking right down into a den of vampires and werewolves…but it was hard to stay tense and focused in the face of the ridiculous tableau sprawled out on the acre of Astroturf before them. Dean was right: this didn't feel like a hunt—this just felt like the World's Tackiest Garden Party. He did his best to keep his eyes on the crowds milling around the pavilion and not on the searingly-white decor; it wasn't long before he began to pick out the monsters among them.

It wasn't long after _that_ he realized that it would be easier to pick out the ones who _weren't_ the monsters—pretty much just the women, children, and elderly members of Leah's tribe looked to be the only humans. The towering, bulky Native American men stalking about in tuxedoes had to be the other werewolves in Leah's pack; they had fluid, prowling gaits that marked them as nonhuman. And, of course, there were the others—all the pale, languid guests slithering in among the Quileutes: the vampires.

When they were a dozen or so yards out, there was a sudden happy shout of "_Leah!_" and a dark, skinny shape detached from the crowd and hurtled in their direction.

"Claire!" Leah called, and Sam was vaguely relieved to hear a genuine note of happiness in her voice, the first all morning. Leah let go of their arms to run forward and scoop up the gangly girl who threw herself into her arms.

"Oh, thank _God_ you're here!" the girl cried. "I'm about to go _crazy_—I'll _never_ forgive you for leaving me here with these people!"

Leah laughed, setting her back down at her feet and grabbing her shoulders to hold her at arm's length. "Look at you!" she exclaimed. "Oh my God, I can't get over how tall you are!"

The girl—Claire, apparently, Leah's niece and the only person Sam had ever heard her correspond with regularly—beamed at her. "And I love your dress!" Leah was saying.

Claire did a little twirl to show off her gray sweater dress with the belt of silver stars, before giving an exaggerated roll of her eyes. "My parents were trying to dress me in this _hideous_ pink thing, all lace and bows and crap," she said, crossing her arms and huffing in the way that only a young teen can. "They treat me like I'm _six_."

Leah chuckled. "I think that's what parents are supposed to do, hon,"

"But I'm nearly _thirteen_," she groused. "I'm not asking to be treated like an adult—but at least treat me my _age_." She ground her teeth. "Can you believe Nessie wanted me to be the flower girl? At twelve?" Her tone suggested that there was no greater insult. "I couldn't be a bridesmaid, of course, 'cause only _vampires_ get to do that," she said disgustedly. Then she grinned nastily. "Nessie totally tried to bully me into it, but I said no—and I'm older than she is and I told her so, so she can just stop treating me like her cute little sister." She looked suddenly morose. "You don't treat me like a little kid, but _you_ ran off."

"Can you blame me?" Leah asked dryly.

Claire gave a very unladylike snort and said, "No. If I could, I'd leave too." She grimaced, and her expression lost some of its preteen drama to be replaced by something harder. "'Cause if I'm not being treated like I'm six, certain people keep trying to treat me like I'm eighteen."

Leah's face twitched, and her jaw tightened. Claire scowled up at her. "Yeah—Mom and Dad wanted me to dress up like Miss Pretty Princess, but when I said no, Quil offered to take me out to get something," she said darkly. "So—that meant now my choices were to dress up as a Disney character or a slut."

Sam blinked, startled by the turn of the conversation and the disquietingly adult way Claire had spoken. He glanced at Dean with raised eyebrows; he was looking unpleasantly shocked himself. Claire looked sober for a moment more, but then her face brightened a little, albeit sardonically. "Well, I wasn't about to do that, so I just made him give me his money and took care of it on my own—I told him I didn't want him around while I shopped, and you know I can make him do anything I say." She looked grimly satisfied at the thought. There was an uncomfortable silence, and then her face lost that too-old expression and settled back down into a much more age-appropriate pout. "But that doesn't change the fact that I had to come to this stupid wedding at all," she grumbled. "My Guild and I were ready to take on the Lich King campaign today, but we had to put it on hold for _this_."

Leah seemed to relax, and smiled at her. "Yeah, I know what you mean—I'd rather be off campaigning too. But, hey," she went on. "My guild is here with me, at least." She turned, her hand on Claire's shoulder as she guided her back to where they were standing.

"Guys," she said, pushing her forward, "this is my niece—well, cousin, really, but close enough—Claire Young. Claire, these are my dates. Sam," she said first, and he smiled at her and held out his hand; she grinned and took it, her grip firm.

"Dean," Leah went on, turning towards him.

Dean grinned smarmily down at Claire, saying, "Hi, there," and Sam was amused to see a blush stain her cheeks; she shook his hand, but didn't meet his gaze quite as boldly as she had Sam's. When Leah directed her over to Cas, who just nodded to her, Sam glanced over at his brother and raised his eyebrows in Claire's direction. Dean gave him a half-mocking, half-smug smile back.

"Are these the guys you've been hanging out with?" Claire was asking Leah, her eyes darting back to Dean.

"Yeah—we've been working on and off together for about the past two years." Leah smirked. "They're all right for palefaces."

"Watch it, there, Squaw," Dean said warningly. "Anyone who listens to Duran Duran has no business judging me."

Claire giggled, and Leah grinned—but the smiles on their faces vanished as if they'd never been there when they heard a voice from behind them call, "Claire?"

"Oh, boy," Claire muttered under her breath. "Here comes Uncle Creepy."

Sam was on point immediately—because the tall, broad-shouldered man headed toward them moved with the same coiled, prowling grace as Leah. He supposed that he'd been hunting monsters long enough that anything non-human set off his radar, whether it was a killer or no. Leah had assured him that her kind of werewolves weren't, but Sam wasn't about to let his guard down around this one—particularly when there was, in fact, something predatory about the way this one was eyeing them.

Claire's face had gone tight, mostly with annoyance, but something else, too, and she spun on her heel. "What, Uncle Quil?" she demanded, her hands on her skinny hips.

"There you are—I was looking all over for you!" the man exclaimed.

Claire rolled her eyes hugely. "Well, where would I have gone, exactly?" she asked pointedly.

The man's face took on a wounded puppy look that was frankly rather disgusting. "I couldn't find you," he said, his voice anxious.

"Obviously not, since here you are—what do you want?" Claire's words were impatient and blatantly rude, but the man didn't seem to notice. He was just smiling rather fatuously down at her, and brought his hands up to rest on her shoulders.

"Nothing—I just wanted to see you," he said sappily, and Sam felt as much as saw Dean tense when the man dropped his hands but ran them over the girl's arms as he did so.

Claire twisted away, and when she turned back to them, she rolled her eyes in disgust. Sam could only trade a bewildered and frankly disquieted look with his brother.

The man, Quil, or whatever, finally managed to tear his eyes away from Claire, and he looked up—and he twitched. His shoulders went taut, and as he un-subtly maneuvered Claire backwards and moved himself to stand between her and them, Sam saw that his eyes were fixed on Castiel.

"Hello, Quil," said Leah abruptly, breaking the tension. Quil seemed to jump again, blinked, and then looked towards her.

"Oh. It's you," he said rudely, ignoring Sam and Dean. "What are you doing here?"

Leah's smile was brittle. "Ask the bride—she invited me."

Claire's face peeped around his tuxedoed arm, obviously annoyed, and she began to roughly push at Quil from behind; he didn't budge. "Move, will you—let me around!" she demanded, beating on him with her fists. At her words, he shifted to the side to let her by. "Quil's the best man—it makes _sense_, after all," she said sourly. She turned to give Quil a defiant look. "And I'm glad Leah is here—we haven't seen her in years."

"Yeah, well," said Quil, glaring at Leah, "just so long as she doesn't start causing trouble again." He flicked his eyes over the rest of them; Sam glared back, but he wasn't acknowledged. "Why did you bring so many people?" he wanted to know, talking to Leah as if she were alone. "I doubt Nessie invited all of them." He turned to Cas. "Who are you?" he demanded belligerently.

Sam couldn't believe this. Who was this asshole, anyway? And where did he get off acting like this? Dean was already puffing up like an angry cat, and Sam could tell he was about to let his mouth run away with him. He grabbed Dean's arm, shaking his head slightly when Dean looked angrily in his direction.

Quil was pushing out his chest at Cas, who remained impassive. Luckily, Leah answered his loud question, and it was clear from her tone that she was trying to diffuse the situation. "These are my friends, Quil, and I brought them here as my dates," she said firmly. "Guys, this Quil Ateara," she said, voice flat. "That's Cas," she gestured, "And this is Dean, and Sam."

Quil followed her hands, but he did a double take at Sam's introduction. "Sam?" he repeated in disbelief, looking him up and down like a piece of beef in a way that made Sam want to break his nose. "Your date is named _Sam_?" He gave a rough bark of laughter.

Leah looked as though she'd been slapped in the face…but she said nothing more than a terse, "It's not like that, Quil—that has nothing to do with it."

Quil didn't look convinced, but in one of those oddly mature moments of hers, Claire jumped in and said forcefully, "Quil, I'm thirsty—come with me and get me a glass of punch."

As if Claire's words had flipped a switch, Quil's face went immediately soppy. "And then you have to go find Jacob," she was saying, with cloyingly false sweetness, "'cause you don't want to let him down on his big day!"

Quil swallowed her sugary act hook, line, and sinker. "Right," he said happily, taking her arm to wrap it around his elbow. "Come on, then," he said, and began to lead her off without so much as a word to the rest of them.

Claire cast an apologetic look over her shoulder and waved to them as she was led off (or rather, as she led _him_ off), and called back, "It was nice meeting you guys, Sam, Cas—and Dean," she finished with a giggle.

"Yeah—nice meeting you too, Claire," Dean answered, managing to smile at her despite her company.

Sam bristled, his fists clenching, as he saw Quil pause for the briefest moment and level a decidedly poisonous look at his brother. Then Claire gave his arm a sharp tug, and he was all smiles for her again, and they disappeared into the crowd, leaving a stunned silence in their wake.

"Okay—what the hell was that?" Sam finally asked.

"Just one of my pack members," Leah said quietly.

"No—Leah," Dean said, holding up his hands, "I'm sorry, but that was not 'just' anything. _What in the hell was that?_"

A light bulb suddenly went on in Sam's head. "Leah," he asked, "was that—was that one of those 'imprinting' things?"

Leah nodded, her mouth a thin line. "She was two," she said tightly. "And he hasn't left her alone since." She smiled, and it had zero humor in it. "See, Quil's been keeping himself from aging past sixteen. I'm guessing he's pretty excited—he's only got three years left."

Dean's face spoke more eloquently than he ever could have with words. Sam himself felt vaguely nauseous. The only one who didn't look revolted was Cas, but Sam figured he probably didn't have a very good handle on the situation.

Leah's eyes suddenly snapped forward. "Speak of the devil," she said, her voice hard. "Here comes another happily imprinted couple."

Sam was briefly relieved, because when he looked up, the pair coming towards them were both adults, and clearly had been for some time.

His relief didn't last long. It was another wolf. Sam was not used to having to look up at other people, but this was the second man he'd seen since they'd arrived who towered over him. He looked a bit older than the other two he'd met, and seemed a bit more relaxed. The woman with him, another Native American, had the soft look of approaching middle age hastened along by bearing lots of children, as evidenced by the gaggle surrounding her and the very large belly poking out of her shapeless turquoise dress. However, her most striking feature was the twisted mass of scars on her face; she looked like she'd lost a round to a Wendigo.

She didn't seem to notice; she was grinning happily as she waddled forward, holding out her arms as a prelude to an embrace. Leah took a few steps forward to meet it, gingerly hugging her in return. Sam marveled that the woman didn't seem to notice that Leah's smile was more of a grimace.

"Oh, Leah, it's so good to have you home!" she was bubbling happily. "You really need to visit us more often—we miss you so!"

"I'm sure you do." Leah's voice was dry, but totally lost on the newcomers.

"Nice to see you again, Leah," the man next to her rumbled carelessly.

"Likewise," Leah answered, her tone sardonic.

The scarred woman was herding her brood forward. "Kids, come say hello to Aunt Leah!" she said in a singsong voice.

The kids were hanging back, and Leah gave them a pitying look before saying, "Emily, I doubt they remember me. In fact," she said, pointing to the two littlest ones, "I've never even met those."

Emily laughed a little, and then turned her attention to the rest of them; Sam and Dean both had pleasant expressions plastered on their faces, readying themselves for some new ridiculousness. "Well, who are these?" she chirped brightly.

Leah turned towards them, closing her eyes for a moment, before turning back to the woman—Emily. "These are my friends. They all agreed to come with me." Her face was a little pinched as she said, "Guys, this is my cousin Emily and her husband, Sam Uley. This is Cas," she said, her voice betraying her weariness with repeating the same introductions over and over.

Emily smiled warmly and held out her hand. Cas just stared at it for a long enough moment for things to start getting awkward, until Dean nudged him and he finally took it. Emily pretended not to notice, but was chivvied along rather quickly by her husband, who was eyeing Cas with a distrustful look. He thrust out his hand somewhat forcefully, and this time Cas didn't need to be prompted, allowing his skinny fingers to be engulfed by the man's huge brown grip. But that shake didn't last long, as he released him as quickly as possible, almost taking a step back and flexing his fingers as if he'd just been electrically shocked.

The huge man eyed him; Castiel just stared benignly back, but before the tension became too uncomfortable, Dean jumped in, saying, "He's not from around here."

Sam could see Emily opening her mouth, and he suspected she was about to ask where he _was_ from. That might have been a problem as, knowing Cas, he'd tell her. Luckily, Leah had come to the same conclusion and quickly redirected their attention by introducing, "Dean Winchester."

Dean gave them his usual 100-watt grin as he shook their hands, but Leah looked as though she was bracing herself as she said evenly, "And this is his brother Sam."

Sam Uley's face went abruptly stony—but Emily's eyes popped, and she covered her mouth, but not before a tiny gasp escaped her. She quickly dropped it, and rearranged her face into a plastically pleasant smile as she reached out to shake his hand—but this time it was Sam who almost caused the awkward pause, as he suddenly connected the dots.

"_I was engaged a guy in my tribe, but when he turned wolf, he decided he liked my cousin better and dropped me like a hot potato…She turned him down, though, at least until he tore her face off for it."_

…_No._ They _weren't_. They _wouldn't_.

But they were. Sam could only watch in utter disbelief as Leah made forced small talk all while Emily continued to glance meaningfully between himself and her cousin, while her husband was quite obviously ignoring what he perceived to be an elephant in the room. Everything fell into place—the pointed looks, the mocking words of Jacob and Quil, Leah's tight expression when she introduced him—and Sam found it all making horrible, _infuriating_ sense.

Sam snapped back to attention when he heard Leah say with forced brightness, "Oh—there's my mom. Excuse me, Emily, Sam—I should go say hi."

"Oh—of course," Emily answered with equally false cheer. "She's missed you."

Leah nodded tightly, and after a quick glance towards the three of them, she headed off towards an older Native American woman, Emily watching her worriedly as she went.

After she left, Emily tossed an almost anxious look at all of them—Sam in particular, to his irritation—before saying, "Well, it was nice meeting you boys. Make yourselves at home." And then, taking her husband's arm and shooing her children along with her, she headed back into the milling crowd, throwing one last uneasy glance at over her shoulder at Sam as she left.

"Man, what is with these people?" Dean asked when they seemed out of earshot. "You'd think Leah had the plague!"

Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Dean," he said slowly. "Didn't you know who that was?"

His brother looked confused, as usual, until Sam prompted, "Don't you remember what Leah told us? About her ex-fiancé who married her cousin?"

Dean blinked, and Sam saw understanding in his eyes. "Oh—_that_ was them?"

"Yeah. Emily—and _Sam_," he said forcefully.

Dean's jaw dropped. "…No," he said. "They all—they were—they think _she_—and _you_—"

"Yeah. They do," Sam replied grimly.

Dean's jaw worked for a moment, before he finally managed to say, "Those _assholes_!"

Sam could only agree. "I mean—not only is that a seriously douchey thing to do," Dean was going on, "but can't they give her credit for having better taste than that? Well, maybe not," he amended before Sam could reply, and Sam followed his gaze to see him eyeing Cas, who stared back uncomprehendingly.

Sam snorted, still vaguely uncomfortable any time he thought about how they'd walked in to find Leah fondling their angel, and simply said, "Well—let's go meet the folks," and headed towards where he could see Leah standing, Dean and Cas trailing in his wake.

Leah was standing next to an older woman to whom she bore a striking resemblance. As Sam neared, he could hear that she was in mid-conversation, saying, "Mom, I really haven't had time for that. I have new friends and things to do, and I keep busy."

The woman, her mother apparently, pursed her lips and said, "I just don't like the idea of you running all over the place by yourself."

Leah looked up at the sound of their approaching footsteps, and she seemed vaguely relieved to see them. "Well," she said to her mother, "You shouldn't worry. I haven't been alone—I've been running with these guys quite a bit."

Sam did his best to smile at Leah's mom as they all drew to a halt and fell in line to be introduced. This one, he could tell, was refreshingly human. Leah introduced her as her mother Sue, and she seemed vaguely surprised to see the three of them. "They all…know?" she asked Leah, her brow furrowed.

"Yes—they all know," Leah reassured her. "And I didn't tell them—they've known about stuff like this for a while. It's how we met."

"Oh," said Sue as Leah pulled her forward.

"This is Cas, Dean, and Sam," she said, and Sam was appalled to see Sue's back suddenly straighten and her eyebrows lift at the sound of his name.

Her own _mother_, and when she coolly held out her hand to shake, Sam couldn't help but very firmly say, "We're her _friends_."

"Yeah," said Dean, in his best "charm the ladies" voice. "We've been traveling off and on together for nearly two years—Leah's good company."

It didn't seem to reassure her. Her face just went rather stony as she said, "Really," and then looked pointedly at Leah and asked, "All four of you?"

Leah closed her eyes, and in a much more Leah-like voice than she'd used with the other wolves, just said, "Mother—_don't_." She took a deep breath through her nose, and then asked, "Where's Charlie?"

Sue pursed her lips, but didn't get to say anything as a gruff but cheerful voice came from behind her, saying, "Right here, hon!"

Leah's face broke another real smile at the sight of the middle-aged fellow approaching them. He had a glass of punch in one hand and a beer in the other, and despite looking ill-at-ease in his tuxedo, seemed genuinely glad to see her.

Leah waited for him to foist his punch off on Sue before giving him a hug. "Hi, Charlie," she said.

"Hey, Leah!" he answered, patting her back gingerly before pulling away. "You look great, sweetie."

"You too," she said happily. "I'm diggin' that mustache."

"You like it?" he asked, bristling his lip at her. "Bella doesn't, but Sue does, and so does nearly everybody else, so I told her she was outvoted."

Leah turned back towards Sam and the others and said, "This is my stepdad, Charlie Swan—he's the chief of police, so don't try anything," she added mock-warningly.

He stepped forward with a smile, and Sam braced himself, but Chief Swan had no untoward reaction to his name as they were introduced, just smiling and shaking their hands, and after he'd met them all, he leaned forward and said, "You know, guys, just between you and me—I'm real glad to see someone else who's normal around here."

Dean laughed. "I hear that," he said. "I think we're pretty much outnumbered."

Charlie shook his head in agreement, his eyes flicking over towards the clusters people moving around beside the pavilion—and Sam did a double-take as one of the small knots of pale-skinned people moved into the sunlight and burst into…_sparkles_.

Well. There was yet another thing that Leah had apparently underplayed.

Dean squinted incredulously. "Damn—we should have brought sunglasses."

Charlie laughed, sounding vaguely surprised by his comment, and then leaned forward and surreptitiously opened his jacket—to reveal the pair of aviators tucked in the inside pocket.

Dean barked in approving laughter. "Oh—my man, Chief," he chuckled.

"Drop the 'Chief'—I'm not on duty," he said genially in reply. "Charlie is fine. So," he went on, leaning back, "how'd you guys fall into this?"

"Ah, well—we'd run into some…not entirely human things before. First time we've seen this disco nightmare before, though," Dean answered with a wry twist to his mouth.

Charlie chuckled with grim good humor. "Yeah—it was pretty weird when my own daughter started doing it."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Oh?" he asked, and couldn't help but exchange a look with Dean—that set off all of his hunter alarms.

"Yep," said Charlie, and he didn't sound at all pleased about it. "She got married, vanished for a month, and then showed up all glitzed out and made over—and with a kid." He moved his gaze over all the whiteness around him with a rather dubious expression, and added, "That's my granddaughter. She's, uh—she's getting married today."

"Ah," said Dean, and thankfully didn't say anything else.

Charlie was looking somewhat uncomfortable now, and Dean, in a moment of uncharacteristic sensitivity, asked, "Where'd you get the beer? I could use one of those right about now."

Charlie looked relieved at the change of subject, and opened his mouth to reply, when a high soprano voice cut across him, and Leah literally winced when it said, "_Finally!_ There you are, Leah—I've been looking everywhere for you!"

They all turned, and squinted at the sight of the small, sparkling thing bounding towards them. She was tiny, even with the ridiculously high stiletto heels that she was wearing. Her very slight stature and china doll face were rendered somewhat disturbing by the fact that she was wearing a much-too-revealing gold gown that would have looked cheap on someone who _didn't_ look fifteen. On this little creature, it just gave the impression of a little girl playing dress up in Mommy's clothes. Well—provided that Mommy was a hooker, anyway.

She was still talking, and loudly, informing Leah that, "I _know_ Jacob told you to come see me, now I don't know if I'm going to have enough time to get you ready, and—"

She suddenly stopped short, mid-sentence, and took one quick step back, her eyes widening as she looked at Cas. She seemed unable to speak, and from the look of her, Sam guessed that was not a normal occurrence for her. Sam narrowed his eyes slightly; Leah had mentioned in the past that while she wouldn't have known Castiel was an angel, her senses were that much more acute than a human's, to the point that she could feel _something_ odd about him—something more than a little uncomfortable. Leah had gotten used to it, but she had nearly jumped right out of her skin the first time Cas had appeared in her presence—she'd said later that she'd thought she was about to be struck by lightning.

Considering that Leah had also mentioned that vampire senses were heightened even beyond her own, Sam could only imagine what this one must have felt to stop her dead in her tracks (and really, the more he thought about it, the more he liked it).

Leah took advantage of the vampire's distraction to say tiredly, "Yes, Alice, I know—but I wanted to see my mom first. I promise I was on my way."

Sam had a feeling that she was lying through her canines, and under other circumstances might have laughingly called her out on it. But not now—and he didn't have the chance anyway, because the little vampire—Alice—shook herself and then was off.

"You could have done that afterwards—she'd still be here," she complained. "Now I don't know if I'll have enough time to get you ready!"

"Well," said Leah, sounding vaguely exasperated, "as you can see, I am already ready, so—"

"_That's_ a matter of opinion—unprofessional opinion, I might add," Alice cut across her, and her disconcerting yellow eyes traversed Leah's form appraisingly before she made a rather exaggerated show of displeasure. "_That_ is most assuredly _not_ a designer dress—that's off the rack, and it couldn't have cost more than six hundred dollars. And those shoes! Where did you get those—Shoe Carnival?" Alice shook her head, huffing in annoyance. "Leah, what _are_ we going to do with you? Your hair is okay, I suppose, but you may need more makeup—you don't have the face for so little like Bella did. So come on—I want to show you the dress we got you!"

Sam had no idea how Alice could be unaware of that muscle twitching along Leah's jaw (unless she was just deliberately ignoring it), but he sure wasn't as she turned to the three of them and said in a very tight voice, "Guys, I gotta go, but I'll be back—"

"Come _on_, Leah!" Alice interrupted yet again, that impatient whine still very much present in her bossy voice. "We don't have time for that! They know you'll be back, let's _go_!"

And then she seized Leah's hand and began to tug. Leah managed to call over her shoulder, "Cas, keep an eye out!" before she allowed herself to be dragged off through the crowd and out of sight.

It was Charlie who spoke first. "I thought she looked nice," he said, sounding vaguely bewildered.

"I don't understand what difference the price of her clothes makes," Cas said, his eyebrows knitted.

Sam hadn't quite recovered enough to speak, and he could tell from Dean's expression that he hadn't either. But, true to form, Dean shook it off first in remembering the previous promise of beer. "So," he said, pretending _that_ hadn't just happened, "were you gonna say something about a beer?"

Charlie brushed off his own discomfort and smiled. "I sure was—right over there," he said, pointing towards a long (and, surprise surprise, white) table where there were platters of food laid out. On one end was a champagne fountain, tiers of precariously stacked champagne glasses, a huge bowl of punch, and at the farthest end was a white-draped stand from which protruded a series of taps.

Dean turned towards Sam. "Well, what do you say—hit the buffet table?" And in a slight undertone he added, "And the booze?"

Sam nodded. "I second that motion." They turned to see Cas scanning the crowd, apparently keeping an eye out as he was told.

"Cas, I'm guessing you're not hungry," Dean said.

"Of course not," came the obvious reply.

Dean just rolled his eyes and said, "Well, then, why don't you just cruise Sunset Boulevard here and make sure nobody tries anything."

Cas nodded once, very seriously, and then strolled off into the crowd—which parted before him like the Red Sea.

Charlie watched him go, his eyebrows raised with interest, particularly at the way that everyone non-human was looking at him with mingled surprise and alarm as he passed. He turned back to Dean. "Who was that guy, again?" he asked.

"Ah—that's Cas. A friend of ours," Dean said, smiling ingratiatingly.

"And…what does he do, exactly?"

There was a brief pause; Dean looked at Sam, and Sam looked back, and Sam quickly said, "Bible study," just as Dean blurted out, "Sunday school."

Chief Swan looked neither convinced nor impressed, and Dean added, "He's a very religious man. So—Sammy—beer?" he asked brightly. "Nice to meet you, there, Chief!" he said as he grabbed Sam's arm and started dragging him away.

"Yeah—you too, boys," Charlie answered dryly as they made their escape.

Dean kept tugging Sam through the crowds towards the food, both of them involuntarily looking over their shoulders, not just to see if the police chief was still watching them, but because of all the eyes they felt boring into their backs as they passed by the non-human contingent of the wedding guests.

Weaving their ways past all the round tables and through the cloying scent of too many flowers, they at last made it to the food. Dean scooped up one of the chilling glasses from the white trough of ice near the taps, and after briefly trying to make out their unpronounceable foreign names, picked one at random and filled up with what turned out to be an impressively dark lager.

"Beer?" he asked, with the air of one offering painkillers.

Sam shook his head, instead gingerly plucking one of the champagne coupes stacked to the right and dipping it into the lighted fountain of flowing champagne, an action which made Dean roll his eyes.

After a fortifying drink on both their parts, they turned to skim the crowds. Sam was quite displeased to see several of the clearly vampiric guests watching them none-too-subtly. Leah had assured them that all the vamps would be on good behavior here, but that didn't make him feel any better.

"Man," said Dean. "I think Leah may have actually underplayed it when she was telling us about these people."

Sam couldn't help the single, unamused laugh that escaped him. "Ya think?"

"This is—this is unbelievable," Dean was going on, shaking his head as if words were simply inadequate. Actually, they weren't, and Sam had more than a few that he thought were quite appropriate; most of them consisted of four letters. But they'd discovered early on just how insane Leah's hearing was, and now they were surrounded by people who they knew could hear just as well. So by mutual agreement, they planned to do their best to say as little as possible while still making themselves understood to each other, just to keep anyone here from finding out too much about them by eavesdropping.

Dean, however, badly wanted to say something, and was struggling with his natural inclination to let whatever he was thinking just fall out of his mouth. "I mean—this—these people, they—" He stopped, and stomped over in the direction of the food, leaving Sam to trail behind him, only to nearly run into him as he whipped around and pointed indignantly to the first plate he encountered. "There—that. That is exactly what I mean. Just what in the hell _is_ that?"

Sam looked, and snorted. "It's escargot."

Dean blinked, and this his chin jutted outward. "I repeat—what in the hell is that?"

"They're snails, Dean," Sam answered with deliberately patronizing patience.

Dean's jaw briefly dropped, and then face twisted in disgust. "Oh, God—_snails?_" he moaned, revolted. "That's not food—that's just a cruel joke!"

Sam smirked. "Actually, they're not that bad," he informed him, and he speared one of them with a shiny gold toothpick from the pot in the middle of the platter and popped it in his mouth.

It was not just "not bad"; it was damn tasty. But if you went by Dean's expression, Sam had just eaten a dog turd.

"Aw, Jesus, Sammy!" he exclaimed, horrified.

"What?" Sam said defensively.

"You just ate a _slug_, that's what!" He flapped his hands for emphasis.

Sam was amused; he'd never in his life seen his brother turn down anything that was edible (not to mention a few things that weren't). "Huh. And here I thought you'd eat anything," he remarked.

Dean bristled. "I draw the line at _bugs_!"

Sam couldn't help but chuckle at him as he whipped around and looked accusingly at the rest of the artfully arranged dishes that weighed down the table. "There's nothing else made of bugs on here, is there?" he demanded, a touch of panic in his voice.

"It doesn't look like it," Sam answered placatingly, skimming over the series of ornate little embossed placards that labeled the dishes. He reflected with a certain level of amazement that even the custom-made cards seemed patronizing in fulfilling their function; granted, the pretentious and outrageous dishes in question needed identification for anyone who wasn't a professional epicure.

Dean, whose discerning palate was limited to cheeseburgers and pie, was making his displeasure known at the French and otherwise excessively gourmet names beside the dishes. He passed over the "Mousse de Saumon Fumé" and the "Apricot Chambord Brie en Croute," glared at the "Alsatian Flammenküche," and looked positively offended by the "Pate de Foie Gras with Truffles in Aspic."

He finally condescended to eat a venison and goat cheese tostado (and Sam narrowly prevented him from grabbing it with his fingers, directing him instead to one of the gold-rimmed plates and tiny forks), which he rather grumpily announced was pretty damn good.

While Dean chewed noisily on a "Deep-fried Crab Ball with Jicama-Pepper Panache" (from which he'd scraped off the panache), Sam turned and looked out at the crowds and asked, "So—do we—ah—mingle?"

Dean swallowed and said, "Good idea. Recon, and all." He looked contemplatively at the buffet for a moment before turning back to him. "Tell you what—I'll watch the food." He bunted Sam's shoulder with his own. "You go get 'em, Sammy."

Sam gave Dean a withering look, which went ignored (as usual), before sighing and leaving him to his pheasant and cheese polenta.

Sam made sure he knew where Castiel was before he went diving right into the midst of a bunch of monsters; he spotted him roosting under an obnoxious white trellis archway dripping with climbing white hydrangeas, and being given a wide berth by most of the partygoers.

Reassured as to the presence of his backup, Sam took a deep breath and plunged into the fray.

* * *

**Author's Note:** All the food we mentioned is indeed real. "Great Chefs" is a regular fount of high-class and expensive food. Well, all except the venison and goat cheese tostado. That's from Episode 812 "The Incredibly Strange Creatures Who Stopped Living and Became Mixed-Up Zombies" from Mystery Science Theater 3000. Sound tasty? Call Ortega! He'll cater for cheap!

Oh, and seeing as the movie's version of Charlie is a hundred times more awesome than the one in the books—which is impressive, because the canon Charlie has some pretty nice moments of awesome—we had to find a way to make sure that the good Charlie was somehow here. Hence the 'stache. TEAM MUSTACHE DAD!


	5. Death on Two Legs

**Author's Note:** The party has split up, and the mingling is about to begin. Let's see what shenanigans Sam Winchester gets up to when he's by himself, hmm? Chapter title and soundtrack is from the Queen song "Death on Two Legs."

**Spoilers:** Spoilers for _Twilight_, _New Moon_, _Eclipse_, _Breaking Dawn_, and all six seasons of "Supernatural."

**Disclaimer: "Supernatural" is the property of Kripke Enterprises and Warner Bros. Television. The Twilight Saga is the property of Stephenie Meyer and Little, Brown and Co. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from this work.**

* * *

**Chapter 5 – Death on Two Legs**

Sam merged into the crowd of predominately non-human guests, wary and watching for any untoward moves on their parts. He did manage it much more easily than Cas had, he noticed; no one shied away from _him_. Actually, it seemed to be the opposite; he did not miss the curious and unsettlingly interested glances often tossed his way—always from the vampires.

He didn't like it. He deliberately avoided catching anyone's eye when they looked his way; he wasn't interested in talking with any of them. He wended his way between the small clusters of guests as if he had a destination in mind, all while surreptitiously sweeping his eyes from side to side and listening as closely as possible to any and all passing conversations. He did his best to catch names so he could match faces with the ones that Leah had told them about, the ones who could do anything extra, like electric shocks or hallucinations. He heard someone call out the name Kachiri, and made note of the tall vamp that answered, he heard someone else muttering about Amun, saw a vamp named Makenna introduce herself to another named Randall, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he overheard someone ask if _Alistair_ was going to be here (he was not, and Sam was not sorry to hear it).

When he heard someone ask for a Maggie, however, he started at the sound of the high, childish voice that answered, "Coming, Siobhan!" He was utterly appalled to see a little girl who couldn't be more than ten go bounding gracefully over to a group of vamps who were talking pleasantly with what could only be a couple of wolves.

His mouth compressed into a thin line, his stomach rolling as he suppressed the desire to grab the cutlery and start beheading. _Changing kids—what the hell?_ he thought angrily to himself, turning away. But that didn't make things any better, because in the opposite direction from that disgusting vampire child he spotted Sam and Emily Uley some distance away. They were talking animatedly to a few other Native Americans, and it was impossible for Sam to miss the way Emily glanced up and pointed deliberately at himself.

He resisted the urge to go over there and tell them to just shut up about Leah, instead making a sharp left, but abruptly came to a stop when he nearly crashed right into a pair of pale-blond, glittering people that had all but materialized right in front of him.

"Oh—sorry," he said as their eyes fixed upon him. They looked at him, and he looked back, and his fingers tightened reflexively around his champagne glass.

Leah had told them that with these fangless vamps, there was actually an easy way to tell which ones only ate animals and those that didn't care to bother with such formalities. While that little one they'd seen before, Alice, had had bright, eye-catching golden eyes, he'd pushed aside his natural inclination to loathe anything with yellow eyes and instead had taken some solace in reminding himself that the color indicated a "safe" vampire. However, the two vampires before him had deep burgundy irises, a dead giveaway to just what their preferred cuisine was.

His wariness only increased when he saw the way their nostrils flared as they stared up at him.

"It's quite all right," the woman said carelessly, giving him what was clearly meant to be a disarming smile that was anything but. "You wouldn't have bumped us. It is we who should apologize." She gestured at the crowd, smiling fondly. "So many of us gathered, and no need to be secretive—I'm afraid I rather forgot that not everybody here is like us."

"I don't believe I've ever seen you before," the man suddenly chimed in, his voice eerily similar to the woman's. "I know all of the other humans' connections to our kind—but not yours. What, exactly, brings you into our company?"

Sam managed a brittle smile as he took a fortifying sip of his drink. "Leah Clearwater—I came with her," he replied as politely as possible.

"Leah Clearwater—is that one of those werewolves?" the woman asked, sounding not remotely interested as she continued to stare intently at Sam. "It was so generous for the Cullens to invite them all. What did you say your name was?"

Sam resisted the urge to tell her sharply that he _didn't_ say, instead only offering, "Sam Winchester."

The man tilted his head at him for a moment, before slowly extending his hand to shake. Sam was loath to touch this thing, but after reflecting that he probably looked as silly as Cas always did when he just stood there like a stump in the face of someone's attempt at social interaction, he reluctantly took it. The man's hand was freezing cold and unnaturally smooth and hard; Sam let go of it quickly, particularly after he felt the guy nearly _stroking_ his hand as he held it. "I am Peter—this is my mate Charlotte. We are very old friends of Jasper Cullen's. Have you met him yet?"

"I haven't had the pleasure," Sam said formally.

"Oh, you _must_ meet him as soon as you possibly can—all of the Cullens, really, they are truly the most wonderful people. So many of us are nomadic and have no homes or money, and they so generously provided us all with a wardrobe for the wedding," Charlotte said, smoothing her hand over the dark gray satin of her dress, and then she laughed brightly. "Alice probably would have given us quite an earful for merely stealing something from a store."

Peter laughed at her little joke as well; Sam managed a forced chuckle as he imagined increasingly ridiculous ways to extricate himself from these creatures and their pretentious conversation. They lapsed into a silence that was not at all pleasant for him, in no small part because Peter and Charlotte were still staring at him. He was casting around for something safe to say when Peter took a deep breath through his nose, and Sam tensed when Charlotte leaned towards him, doing the same.

He realized exactly what they were doing one second before Peter spoke again, seeming to anticipate Sam's narrowed eyes. "I'm sorry, but I truly can't help myself. It's your scent," he explained as though it were obvious.

Sam blinked, unable to think of a single thing to say in response to that. It didn't seem to bother either of them; Charlotte simply nodded in agreement to Peter's words. "Yes—it's so strange. It _would_ be delightful, but there is something there…it overpowers what I do believe would be a truly amazing aroma," she added.

Sam could not believe what he was hearing. They were talking about him like they were window-shopping for a particularly juicy steak and they were saying it _to his face_. And what was worse, Charlotte had spoken in such a way that it was clear she considered this to be a serious compliment. Sam didn't think this could get any more outrageous—but then Peter spoke again.

"I can't see how it could be possible, but you smell of…" He stroked his chin with one finger, breathing in deeply and closing his eyes for a moment before snapping them open and saying decisively, "_Brimstone._ That's what it is—do you agree, Charlotte?"

Sam's jaw spasmed involuntarily and he brought his glass up and drained what was left in one swig. Before Charlotte could add her two cents, he said, "I'm sorry—out of champagne." He wiggled his empty glass for emphasis, not caring how affected he was. "I could use a refill. Nice to meet you," he finished in clipped tones, and then he turned his back on them and stalked back in the direction of the buffet table.

Sam had already been told that he would taste delicious. He'd even been told that he _did_ taste delicious. But _that_…expecting him to be _flattered and appreciative_ of their commentary on how tasty he was? And bringing up the sulfur stink, well, that was just icing on the cake, wasn't it? _Yeah, thanks for the reminder_, he snarled to himself, glancing over his shoulder to glare at the crowd in general. He saw more of the vampires on his way to the food, and they were still looking at him, and now he knew exactly why they were and he hated it. Angry and still feeling all those red eyes on his back, his own eyes sought out the tan trench coat still parked underneath the trellis, just to be sure.

He reached the table and, not caring that it was uncouth, just stuck his used glass right into the fountain again and immediately took another swallow after he'd filled it. He did, at least, resist the urge to just down the whole thing in one go and get a third. Restlessly, he glanced up the length of the table and noticed that Dean was no longer present. He looked out in the crowd, searching for his familiar form. Sam's first personal experience with one of these vampires had only reinforced his misgivings over Leah's reassurances that they would be on "good behavior," and Sam knew his brother far too well to suppose that Dean would be anything but loudly outraged if he was approached by a vampire about smelling yummy.

As he fruitlessly scanned the crowds for his brother, he saw two dark-skinned people walking towards him, and their intent looks left little doubt that they were coming right for him. He stuffed his free hand in his pocket and sipped his drink, waiting by the table until they arrived.

Despite being a bit rangier than the other wolves Sam had seen thus far, this man was still obviously one of them. He was just about Sam's height, easily able to look him straight in the eye (a novelty for Sam, and one that, given the circumstances, he was not enjoying). The woman with him was obviously anything but—short, plain, and a bit dumpy, in sharp contrast to the unnaturally large and chiseled wolf next to her. She was wearing a shapeless, heavily embroidered red dress that did nothing for her figure, and she was smiling hugely as she approached—so hugely, in fact, that it was immediately obvious it was fake.

"Hello!" the woman said brightly, a vaguely maternal note to her voice that immediately set Sam's teeth on edge. "I'm Kim Woodbridge, and this is my husband Jared—we thought we should come and introduce ourselves to the newcomer!"

Sam politely shook their hands. "Sam Winchester," was all he said in response.

If this Jared person smiled any wider, he was going to crack his face, Sam observed. "Yeah," he said, his tone as stilted as any bad B-movie actor. "We heard you came in with Leah."

Sam gave them a small, tight smile. "Yeah—and I'm sure the report has been greatly exaggerated," he said mildly.

Kim gave a high, mostly genuine laugh, before hedging, "Is Leah around? I didn't see her get here."

"Well, she was shanghaied by a vampire a little while ago—one named Alice," he answered. "I don't know where she took her. She was talking about getting her ready for the wedding, but Leah was—"

Jared cut off his words with a condescending chuckle. "Oh, yeah—Jacob mentioned something about that. Alice pretty much provided the wardrobe for everyone here, since she's so good at picking out just the right thing for everybody. Of course, my Kim would look good in a burlap sack," he said, both his face and his voice going suddenly syrupy as he looked at his wife, who looked back at him with an equally sticky expression.

Sam had to bite his tongue to keep from remarking that that was lucky, since Alice in her infinite fashion wisdom had pretty much dressed her in exactly that, embroidery or no, but he just smiled politely while noting that it was pretty easy to tell which of the wolves had done that sick "imprinting" thing and once again internally toasting free will.

Jared eventually stopped making eyes at Kim (good thing, too—Sam might have lost his escargot if they had kept it up much longer) and shook himself before giving a short bark of laughter. "Man—I can't even remember _ever_ seeing Leah actually look like a girl." He rolled his eyes. "Probably a good idea to have Alice take care of her."

"Leah did just fine on her own," Sam answered coldly.

Jared gave him a look of obvious skepticism. "Seriously? How? Well," he snorted, not waiting for an answer, "I suppose she could fake it with enough time and effort—and money," he added. "What, she have a job now, or something?"

Sam barely managed to snap himself out his disbelieving silence after this pronouncement to respond to the question. "Well, we all kind of pooled our resources," he said tersely. "Our jobs don't always pay well, but we get by."

"Oh—Leah hasn't ever mentioned any jobs," Jared remarked idly. Sam imagined him with a bucket hat and a fishing pole. "Is that how you guys met? Working on the same shift or something?"

As if taking a cue, Kim jumped in with a bright, "Yes, what has Leah been up to for the past—what is it—four years?" She shook her head with a sigh. "She's just so distant and anti-social that she never tells anyone anything."

_I can't imagine why._ "Oh, we just work security jobs here and there," he said, his voice only slightly stiff. "Leah is pretty much made for it, after all," he said, forcing a smile. "And we like working with her—she's good to have around."

"Well, just so long as she doesn't do anything to give herself away," Jared said pompously. He then eyed Sam. "How did you people find out about us, anyway?"

Sam was growing tired of telling the same watered-down story over and over again, but he gamely replied, "Well, we'd gotten ourselves into a bit of trouble with a vampire—and Leah jumped in and saved us."

The actual story was a bit more involved than that. He and Dean had been on the trail of what looked to be a lone vampire moving through Kentucky. They'd been closing in on it one rainy evening when they'd been approached by a damp (but still hot) young woman who casually dropped that she couldn't help but overhear their conversation and felt that she had to tell them that they were in over their heads and that the vampire problem was under control.

A bit stunned, they'd wanted more information, but all she would say was that they were walking into a much bigger mess than they thought they were, and that they should just go on their merry ways and let the professionals handle things. Dean had bristled immediately (and, in all honesty, Sam had too), and after smiling and nodding and sending her on her way, they went right back to business.

As it happened, she had been half-right. They may have been professionals, but it wasn't just one vampire they were tracking. They'd followed the trail to an old barn outside of town—and had walked right into a _nest_ of the damn things. Turned out they'd been deliberately feeding far away from their meeting place, just to throw people off of their true numbers—and it had worked.

Sam and Dean had been gearing up to go down fighting when they heard someone whistling outside, and suddenly a dark, familiar face popped around the door and timidly asked if she was interrupting anything. She'd allowed herself to be manhandled in by the ringleader, doing a credible job of playing the distressed female—right up to the point that she tore his head off with her bare hands, and then just _exploded_ into a wolf the size of a cart horse and proceeded to lay waste to the entire den.

When there wasn't a single vampire left, the enormous beast had transformed back into the girl from the bar—naked, covered in blood, and hopping mad. She'd torn them both a new one for going ahead after she'd told them not to; it was only the fact that she's just saved their lives that kept them from plugging her on the spot, as she clearly wasn't human. But since she had, and since she tersely explained that she didn't kill humans, only vampires, they'd let her go.

Since she _did_ hunt vampires, it wasn't too surprising that they ran into her again when de-sanguinated bodies started showing up in Arkansas a few months later, and again down the line, and it wasn't long before they were regularly meeting up, both on and off duty.

But, in the course of their travels, they'd discovered that Leah was _exclusively_ a vampire hunter; she had almost no knowledge of the supernatural beyond that. They'd educated her on their meetings and road trips, but, by mutual agreement, they had no desire to do the same for the rest of her pack—or the vampires.

So as far as Jared here was concerned, Leah has saved them from one of these sparkling fangless freaks, not a real vampire, and he looked quite surprised by such a notion. "She did?" he asked.

Vaguely irritated by the implication that she'd leave them to die, Sam said, "Well, yeah—why wouldn't she?"

Kim giggled and seemed to think it was a placating action. "Oh, no, he didn't mean it like that. It's just that—she saved you _by herself_?"

Sam's face was stony. "Yes," he said, a bit forcefully. "By herself."

"Huh," said Jared, very obviously astonished. "Wow. Who would've thought?"

"_I_ would have," Sam said firmly. "I've seen her in action—and she's very good." Seeing that Jared was giving him a patronizing look, he quickly resumed the previous line of conversation. "So—anyway. After we met, we kept in touch, being the sort of the same line of work," he said. "She calls us, we call her, that kind of thing." He very deliberately ignored the obvious exchange of significant looks between the two standing in front of him and kept pleasantly nattering on, saying, "We were actually working a job when she got the call about the wedding—that's how we heard about it, and then she just decided to invite us when she found out guests could come."

He almost groaned aloud when Kim visibly pounced on his last sentence. "So, did she tell you anything about—" she waved her hand around to encompass the whole wedding party, "—all this before you decided to come?"

"Ah, well—some," Sam answered vaguely. "She told us a bit more on the way up here, though—just to prepare us for…everything."

Jared grunted. "Well, I can't say I'm surprised." He looked away, seeming vaguely uncomfortable as he rubbed the back of his neck, before sighing and asking, "She tell you anything about her life _before_ she joined the pack?"

Sam stiffened. "Only a little," he answered neutrally. "Why?"

Kim fidgeted a little, tugging at her sleeves. "Well…" She stilled and looked up with the air of one doing an unpleasant but necessary duty. "We know that you've met Sam Uley—Emily's husband."

Sam's teeth clenched together, but she just went on, oblivious to his rising anger. "Leah was—well, she was engaged to him, back before." She licked her lips. "And Leah—I'm not saying that we don't feel sorry for her—because we do!" she hastened to assure him. "It's just that she has a bit of a hard time…letting go."

Jared huffed loudly. "Understatement of the century," he grumbled, and then looked earnestly at Sam. "Look—I'm not one for beating around the bush, so I'm just gonna tell you because you have a right to know: Leah outright _refused_ to move on after Sam broke up with her. _And_ she was horrible about the whole thing. It wasn't Sam's fault at all—and it wasn't Emily's, either—but the way she acted, you'd think they ganged up on her and planned the whole thing just to get at her personally." He scowled, muttering mostly to himself, "She's just so _selfish_."

He looked back up, and continued. "I know it doesn't sound so good, when you just say it like that, but the thing is, Sam _imprinted_ on Emily. And that means, well, there are no other options. Emily was the One for him. He couldn't help it, and it's not like he _chose_ to do it—it was just fate. But no." Jared's face went into full eye-rolling drama, which looked ridiculous on a man his age. "Once she got into the pack, we all just had to hear all about it: how hung up on him she was, how she just refused to let go, how we were just all so _mean_ for telling her to get over herself—"

Sam cut him off. "I don't see how this has anything to do with me," he bit out.

Kim chewed on her lip, and said with insulting gentleness, "Sam—we're not trying to be rude, but you just don't understand. We know Leah—Jared and the other boys even more than any of us, since they're her pack."

"I just want to make sure everything is out on the table," Jared jumped in, his voice arrogant even in his attempts at sympathy. "Just so you know everything before you get too far with her—if you haven't already—"

Sam had had enough. "Look," he said loudly, cutting him off and ignoring his obvious indignation. "I don't know what you think you know, or what you've been told, but Leah and I are just friends. We aren't dating, and we never will be."

"That's my point," Jared said, frustrated with Sam's refusal to see things his way. "Maybe you don't, but I can guarantee it—she is just hanging around you because she's trying to get at _her_ Sam again—and we'll just have to watch while she makes a fool of herself and just hurts Sam because she won't let it go." He shook his head. "I don't know if she's latched onto you as some sick substitute for him, or maybe she's just using you in some childish scheme to try and make him jealous, but I promise you, one way or another she's just going to try to start something with you."

Sam's jaw was nearly on the floor by the end of this speech. He couldn't _believe_ this douchebag! He had the gall to say that he "knew" Leah, and then turned right around and tried to make her out like some kind of bunny-boiling hellbitch?

All thoughts of secrecy or danger went right out the window as Sam furiously opened his mouth to tell him just what he could do with his false show of concern, when Kim, who had been watching them nervously, quickly leapt into the conversation before Sam could get a word out. "Oh, Jared," she was saying worriedly, "I think Caleb and Hannah are getting into the chocolate fountain again—come help me get them before they get handprints all over the linens. Sam," she said, turning to him with liquid brown eyes and laying a motherly hand on his arm. "It was very nice meeting you—and please, _please_ remember what we said?"

"Oh, don't worry. I will," Sam said, his voice flinty.

"Trust us," Jared said, thumping him much too hard on the back. "It's like I said—we know her. And we know the kind of crap she likes to pull."

"We just don't want Leah to hurt anyone else," Kim said gently, and then gave him a tremulous smile before leading Jared away.

Sam could do absolutely nothing but stare as the happily helpful couple walked off, weaving through the knots of guests and the round white tables until they got to the desserts. They stood on another long white table on one side of the dance floor. It was dominated by a _massive_ white wedding cake, but on either side it was flanked by plates of other sweets and two elaborate gold fountains of chocolate fondue. Jared and Kim were scolding two small dark-haired children and pulling them away from the chocolate.

Sam finally snapped out of his flabbergasted stupor when he at last spotted his brother. As it happened, he too was getting into the chocolate. Dean had obviously decided that the tiny gold picks they had provided for dipping were inadequate for his needs. He had somehow acquired a full-length skewer on which he'd speared three strawberries, six marshmallows, and a whole banana. Sam watched, bemused, as Dean jammed it rather grumpily into the flowing chocolate before slapping the whole dripping mess onto a plate and stalking off to find a corner to mantle over his kill in peace.

Shaking his head at—well, at _everything_, Sam topped off his glass and walked back into the crowd, now taking pains to avoid looking at any of the pale and sparkling vampires—he was not interested in anything _they_ had to say. That didn't mean that he was in any bigger hurry to talk to any of these wolves, either, if all they were going to do was trash Leah.

Unfortunately, he couldn't help but look up when he saw someone waving him over; Sam Uley and Emily were standing close together, and he'd met their eyes before he could pretend not to see them. He'd had a bit of time to calm down after his one-sided meeting with that bastard Jared and his little woman, so, with an internal growl, he steeled himself and walked in their direction, determined to be as polite as possible in the face of whatever provocation they had to offer.

Emily's smile was as fixed and bright as it had been before, and Sam already knew they were going to piss him off. "Sam—we saw you walking around, and, well, you looked just so left out that we thought we should talk." Her eyes crinkled. "We know everybody else here, but you're the newcomer—we'd hate for you to feel unwelcome."

"Yes, that would be a tragedy," Sam said.

Sam Uley was standing far closer than necessary to his wife—and far too close to _him_, Sam noticed. His heavy black brows were furrowed, but Sam planted his feet and tried not to jut his chin out in a very Dean-like manner. "I hope you're enjoying yourself," Uley said in a tone that was entirely at odds at his words.

Sam bounced his eyebrows and hid in his champagne glass to avoid having to reply.

"We didn't really have a chance to talk much when you first arrived," Uley said when it became clear that Sam wasn't going to answer. "I was curious—how did you meet Leah, exactly?"

Sam couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "Do you want to know how I met Leah, or how I found out about all of this?" he asked dryly.

Uley scowled, but quickly hid it with a false chuckle. "Well, I didn't want to be so direct—but yes," he said. Then his scowl was back in force. "You do know that it is forbidden for our kind to tell anyone of our secret," he said, leaning even closer, his eyes intense.

Sam was not impressed. "Yeah, we did know it, actually—but it didn't really matter, because my brother and I have known about supernatural creatures like yourselves all our lives. And Leah didn't just 'tell' us anything—she didn't have a choice," he said firmly. "My brother and I were about to be killed by a vampire, and Leah did her duty—she saved us. It's not like she wanted us to find out," he added, "but when she did that…exploding wolf routine of hers…" He trailed off with a shrug.

Uley's face was clearly (and insultingly) surprised on Leah's behalf. "Alone?" His eyes narrowed in displeasure. "That was extremely dangerous—and risky. I thought she'd learned better to try and take on more than she can handle."

Sam glared at him. "She handled it fine."

Uley gave a rude snort. "Well, Sam," he said, looking down rather contemptuously at him (Sam had never before been so aware of his own power to look so loftily superior), "_you_ might be impressed by what you've seen, but the truth is that Leah is actually the smallest wolf in the pack. She continually overestimates her own strength. She's had a disastrous turn with a vampire before because of it—you all were very, very lucky." He glared off to the side as if Leah was there. "At the very least, she should have told us about this—and about you."

Sam didn't bother reeling in his chin this time as Uley loomed heavily over him, just glared back. Emily, who had been quietly but nervously watching them, laid a hand on her husband's arm. "Yes," she said cheerfully, as if there wasn't a staring contest going on, "that is what I want to know—what my cousin has been doing with herself for so long! She just never calls us, and when she does, she never tells us what she's up to."

These two may have worked in concert, but it was on par with the sixth grade orchestra. Sam was not fooled in the slightest by her cardboard smile. "We just work on and off together," he said evenly. "Me and my brother, we take odd jobs here and there, and she sometimes joins us."

"Where do you live?" she asked.

"We're from Kansas."

"All of you?" Uley's words were abrupt, and when Sam looked towards him, he found that his eyes were not on him—but rather on the skinny, trench-coated form still standing under the trellis.

Cas was, as always, standing perfectly motionless. His chin was tilted slightly upwards, his eyes fixed on some point in the sky. It was quite likely he was talking to somebody upstairs; it always creeped Sam out when he did that. He was also circumscribed by a nearly ten-foot diameter circle that was entirely empty of people; the perimeter was so stark that it was clearly unnatural.

Sam resisted the urge to smirk. "He's not," he said, sipping from his glass. Forestalling any further questions, he simply said, "He's from back east." Which wasn't entirely a lie—the vessel he was wearing was.

Sam could tell that Uley wasn't going to let it go, but thankfully Emily inserted herself into the conversation again. "So…" She looked vaguely uncomfortable. "Leah has been…living with you? For how long?"

Sam ground his teeth but forced his jaw to unlock to answer—but they weren't listening anymore. Uley's face had gone suddenly closed, and he wrapped a proprietary arm around his wife and was drawing her un-subtly closer and away from Sam—or rather from the glittering group that was approaching him.

Sam tensed—more vampires. As they drew closer, he relaxed minutely when he saw that all five of them had the yellow eyes that marked them as non-man-eaters—but only minutely. He couldn't ever fully relax around monsters of any kind—particularly not monsters who were looking at him so hungrily.

The men were in the omnipresent tuxedoes, while all the women were near eye-blinding, in that their dresses left so much skin bare that the glitter was intolerable. Sam could only think that they were dressed like the school sluts at the senior prom; but if it was their intent to draw eyes to their exposed midriffs and plunging décolletages, the incessant sparkling was having rather the opposite effect.

The eager faces of the two in front gave Sam pause; their features were clearly Hispanic, but their stiff, unnaturally pale skin gave the unsettling impression that they'd been whitewashed—or simply plastered over.

"Good morning, Sam, Emily," the dark-haired woman said, her eyes never leaving Sam. "So nice to see you again—particularly here, with all that treaty unpleasantness sorted out." Her words were thick with a Spanish accent that struck Sam as somewhat affected.

"Carmen," Uley answered coolly

The man, through whose arm the first woman's arm was threaded, was watching Sam with a near manic gleam in his unnaturally golden eye. "It's simply so wonderful," he said, "all of us, gathered again like this." His gaze somehow became even more fixed, and Sam felt all his previous tension and even more come rushing back. "And with new faces as well!"

Uley ignored the obvious hint for an introduction. "Yes, I agree," he said brusquely. "If you'll excuse us?" And with that he gripped his wife by the arm and all but wheeled her in the opposite direction.

Ten yellow eyes fixed on Sam immediately after they left. _Oh, great, now I'm left alone with these freaks._ He pasted on a genial expression that he was sure wouldn't have fooled a coma patient, but the five in front of him didn't seem to notice.

The one in front, the one who looked like he was about to start sniffing him, said, "I don't believe I know who you are—are you bride side or wolf side?"

Sam didn't like this. He didn't like this at all. His fist tightening around his glass, he answered, "I came with Leah Clearwater."

The blonde in dark blue—the one in a halter-topped dress that was so skimpy it was all but a bra with a skirt—leaned forward as if to show off what little cleavage she had and raked her eyes over him in a way that he was all-too-familiar with. "Interesting—her taste in men has improved a little bit." She ran her tongue over her abnormally white teeth.

Sam couldn't help the _frisson_ of tension that ran up his back. The man in front seemed to notice the way he was bristling, and said, "Oh, dear. Where are our manners—forgive us."

_Hard to lose what you never had, you blinged-out bitches._ Sam, of course, kept his mouth shut against his natural inclination, settling for shooting one more poisonous glare at the bimbo in blue and then turning back towards their apparent front man.

"I am Eleazar," he was saying, smiling ingratiatingly. "And this is my wife, Carmen."

"_Me encantan_," she said, tossing out a blinding smile.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "_Y tú_," he said evenly, earning him both an offensively surprised look and an even bigger smile from Carmen.

The other woman, who hadn't spoken yet but who was clinging just as tightly to the other man as Carmen was to Eleazar, pushed herself forward. "I'm Kate," she said, and then patted the man's arm. "This is my husband, Garrett." She looked up at him with a soppy expression. "We met through the Cullens—they're such wonderful people."

Garrett was giving her an equally disgusting look. _Do all of these people have to dribble all over each other in public?_ Sam thought with an inward grimace as he held out his hand.

He once again had to endure the unpleasant sensation of having his hand shaken by ice sculptures—which was made even worse when that last one refused to let go, her hard fingers running over his hand in a mockery of a caress as she said, "And I'm Tanya." She gave him what was clearly meant to be a come-hither look. "I missed the bouquet in Bella's wedding—here's to hoping I catch it this time, eh?"

Sam pried her fingers off of his. "Oh, certainly," he scoffed.

"And you are?" Eleazar prompted.

"Uh, Sam—Sam Winchester," he said, wanting nothing more than to be away from these people.

Tanya smiled at him; the expression did not reassure him. "You must be feeling like a fish out of water," she said. Her eyes traveled over him again. "I hope that everyone's making you feel…welcome."

_Lady, don't make me get the hose._ Sam had been bitten, and hard, by screwing around with non-human chicks before—he wasn't about to start that up again.

Before he could think of an appropriately discouraging reply, Eleazar thrust himself forward again. "You came with Leah, you said?" he asked eagerly.

Sam stared at him. "Yeah," he said slowly. "Me, my brother, and a friend of ours. She invited us."

Carmen cast a fond look at the proceedings all around. "It's very good that _querida_ Renesmee has this many guests—she would've been so upset to have only a small crowd."

"Yeah—that would have been really terrible," Sam said tightly, involuntarily leaning away from Eleazar, who was practically breathing down his neck.

Amazingly, he actually seemed to notice that he was making Sam uncomfortable (not to mention angry), and he backed off a little. "Forgive me," he said, rocking back on his heels. "It's just that I simply had to come meet you because—well, you see, with our kind, sometimes we have extra abilities—"

"I know," Sam said tersely, not wanting to hear the lecture. "Leah told me. One of you can read minds, someone can read the future, someone else can shock people—"

Kate laughed. "Guilty as charged!" she chirped, waggling her fingers and giggling at her own pun as the others with her laughed obligingly at her brilliance.

Sam could only manage the weakest, fakest chuckle he'd ever heard; he'd never been so offended by a pun in his life.

He didn't know if he should be thankful for having so little time to dwell on it, because immediately after the laughter died, Eleazar was speaking again. "I've been watching you since you got here, you know," he said, his face unsmiling, his eyes intent.

Sam blinked. "How comforting."

Eleazar just chuckled patronizingly. "Don't worry—I won't eat you," he said as if reassuring a small child that there was no monster in the closet.

Sam, who knew damn well that there _was_ a monster in the closet, just replied with a flat, "Thank you."

"Well—not unless you ask nicely," Tanya purred from the side.

"_No_," Sam said icily.

"We all choose to abstain from eating humans," Kate informed him.

"How very noble," Sam sneered.

Garrett puffed up his chest. "It is not a matter of being noble," he said loftily. "We just do it because it's the right thing to do."

The conversation was obviously much too far from where Eleazar wanted it to be, and he wanted it to be back on Sam. "Yes, yes," he said dismissively, "but you see—we've all been interested in you. For a while, we couldn't understand why we could smell sulfur in the air—imagine our surprise when we realized that it came from you!"

Sam's back went ramrod straight, but they didn't seem to notice. Kate was blathering on now about how, "Humans tend to have unique scents, but I confess, I have never smelled one that was _brimstone_—"

Sam, nearly snarling now, cut her off by saying, "I've already had that pointed out, thank you very much."

Eleazar was oblivious, focused only on telling Sam whatever it was that he wanted to say. "Except that it is not your scent that has me baffled—it's just _you_."

Sam's fist was gripping his glass so tightly that he was afraid he was going to break it. "I have an extra ability, you see," Eleazar was saying. "I can sense other vampires' abilities and can tell exactly what they are. In the case of humans, I can strongly sense a potential for an extra gift—and if that potential is strong enough, and if I concentrate very much on them, I can almost tell what it will be should they be fortunate enough to become one of us."

"Once Eleazar got a good look at you, Sam," Carmen added, "he couldn't stop talking about you." She shook her head. "To be honest? I cannot believe it myself. _Es increíble._"

For the first time, Sam saw one of these vampires start fidgeting; Eleazar was nearly bouncing where he stood like he was about to wet himself. "It's almost as if you don't merely have potential—but that you _already have the abilities_! As if you were already one of us! And yes," he said, pausing for drama, "_abilities._" He stared at Sam with something like awe. "A vampire with multiple powers—it's unheard of! But a human with potential so strong I can sense it just as if you were one of us? Impossible—and yet here you are!"

Sam's voice was stony. "Fascinating."

In his excitement Eleazar was oblivious to Sam's ill-will. "It is!" he agreed animatedly. "And the abilities you have! You have no equal that I have seen—would have no equal as a vampire! Not even Bella has an ability as strong and impressive as the ones you possess—and even she could not block you!" His eyes went sharp and focused, and he stared at Sam as if staring through him, and it was all he could do not to punch him in the face. "I can sense…mind-reading, telekinesis, mental manipulation…" He stared harder, his face taking on a look of awe…and greed. "Illusions, mind control…_visions of the future_—"

Sam's jaw was so tight it was painful. "I get the picture," he ground out.

Eleazar looked startled by his tone. He blinked at him for a moment, as though confused, and then said, "Please—I do hope you're not offended by this. It's just so amazing," he said, gushing again. "I don't even know how it is _possible_! You are truly a very fortunate human, Sam."

"Yeah, I'm just the luckiest man on the planet," he said scathingly. _My parents murdered, my life destroyed, and me a demonic freak, a pawn in a plan to destroy the world—yeah, I just win at life, don't I?_ "If you'll excuse me…"

"Mind if I join you?" It was Tanya—again—and she was grinning at him like a cat with a canary.

"_Yes._" He hadn't meant to say it, but in a moment of social grace rivaling his brother, he just blurted it out. He'd had enough.

He was sorry immediately afterwards—not because he cared what this bitch thought, but because it was stupid to antagonize the monsters. His eyes searched for Cas; he was right where they left him, and he was watching him closely. His shoulders eased slightly.

Tanya was, infuriatingly, still smirking at him. Apparently, she couldn't take a hint. "All right, then," she leered at him. "I'll just wait." She dropped a coy wink. "See you around, Sammy."

Sam's voice was glacial. "It's _Sam_."

She just chuckled, amused. "_Sam_, then." One pale, glittering hand shot out and skated along his arm before he could jerk away. But jerk away he did, and he spun on his heel and stalked in the opposite direction. He had to get away from those sorry sons of bitches before he did something he would regret.


	6. Paper Sun

**Author's Note:** This is the last Sam chapter. Enjoy. Chapter title/soundtrack is from the Def Leppard song "Paper Sun."

**Disclaimer: "Supernatural" is the property of Kripke Enterprises and Warner Bros. Television. The Twilight Saga is the property of Stephenie Meyer and Little, Brown and Co. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from this work.**

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**Chapter 6 – Paper Sun**

Sam stalked furiously amidst the throngs of wedding guests. He didn't know how much more of this he could take: obnoxious, interfering werewolves or self-satisfied vampires who wanted to take a bite out of him. He forcefully tipped back his glass of champagne, and nearly swore aloud when he realized it was empty again. He was coming to the conclusion that the only safe way to avoid talking to anybody would be to just stare at the ground, looking like an idiot be damned. He glanced back up at the buffet table, where the champagne glistened invitingly, and against his better judgment he started wending in that direction. Unfortunately, as he walked he couldn't help but overhear the conversations going on in the little clusters of partygoers scattered between himself and the solace of the alcohol.

He grimaced and moved away from the two vampires discussing how wonderful this whole hideous setup was, only to find himself within earshot of two more who were doing nothing but talk about how the bride just was the most amazing and unique person on the planet. He picked up his pace, hurrying by the group blathering on about the Cullens and what generous people they were, and nearly vomited into a nearby flowerpot when they starting marveling over how their style and class only seemed to increase with each passing year. It was only by sheer force of will that he didn't hurl his champagne glass at the back of Eleazar's head when he saw him again; he had accumulated a circle of vampires as his audience and was doing _nothing_ but rant and rave about the sulfur-smelling human with the amazing potential.

Sam eyed Castiel, sitting quietly and calmly in his nice, safe little monster-free zone, and was seriously contemplating joining him just to get away from all of this unmitigated _bullshit_. But he didn't, instead steeling himself once again and weaving through all these pretentious dickwads to get somewhere out of the way, trying (and failing) not to hear the snippets of talk all around him.

"Yes, they bought this dress for me—Ambroise Lemaître, a new designer from Paris, and not cheap—"

"—the way they have everything arranged, it is truly amazing. I can tell the humans have never seen anything like it—"

"—saw Bella before she had to go help her daughter with her dress. The diamonds she has on are truly stunning—"

"—and Leah was pretending like she didn't know what I was talking about. It was a complete joke."

Sam stopped dead. He recognized the voice—and the tone—and he couldn't help but listen in, turning and focusing on the small group of Native Americans, two of whom he already knew: Jared and Kim.

It was Jared who had spoken, and the big beefy man next to him who was obviously another wolf gave a scornful laugh. The woman clinging to his arm pursed her lips. "It's not funny, Paul," she scolded and then turned to Kim, saying, "Kim—didn't you say _he_ didn't know at all?"

Kim nodded energetically. "He obviously didn't even know about Sam and Emily until today," she said, clearly relishing sharing these juicy tidbits of information. "And he only found out about them when they were introduced! I can't imagine what Sam must've gone through—our Sam. But that Winchester boy, he's insists that he's been keeping himself and Leah as 'just friends'," she explained, sounding skeptical.

Jared took up the train of conversation, and the disdain dripping from his voice set Sam's to grinding his teeth. "Wonder how long _that_ will last. I saw Leah when she first came in before Alice took her off—she was hanging all over him."

Sam could only boggle at the hypocrisy as the other woman, the one who was all but _attached_ to the man she was with, frowned. "But wasn't she also holding his brother's arm?"

The man, Paul, sneered, "I guess she figures if she can't have another Sam, she'll just make do with the brother or something."

"Then who's the other weirdo she came in with? Plan C?" Jared chimed in. All four of them looked behind them, scowling in unison at Cas. As if feeling their eyes on him (which he probably did), his head slowly turned in their direction—and they all hurriedly looked away.

Kim cleared her throat in the ensuing pause. "Well…she has been living with them for two years now, so you might be more right than we think," she said reluctantly.

The other woman seemed to do a double-take. "Are you serious, Kim? _All three of them?_"

Kim nodded. "That's what Emily told me, anyway," she replied. "Leah got all defensive when she brought it up, and you know how she is when you call attention to what she's doing when she knows it's wrong. _And_ they're also the ones that bought her clothes for her, so it must be more serious than the Winchesters think." She shook her head sadly. "Poor Sam—_our_ Sam, I mean. It's just…he's so tired of this, and Leah can't see how much it hurts him when she does things like this. Why does he put up with it?"

"Sam never stepped on her hard enough when he was her Alpha," Jared growled. "He was way too lenient with her—and still is."

Paul started back up. "I told him to talk with Jacob about it, he's the only one who can keep her in line, but he—"

Kim suddenly coughed very loudly, drawing all attention to herself so that they could see that she was staring nervously right at Sam; she'd finally noticed him, standing to the side and glaring daggers at the lot of them. They all turned, spotting him instantly. For a single moment, they all just looked at each other, Sam making a very nice list of all the ways he would dearly love to kick all of their asses (including the women, chivalry could just go to hell), and then they very deliberately turned away, moving a bit closer to one another, closing ranks and resuming their conversation in whispers as if he wasn't even there.

Sam just stared at them for a moment, then looked down into his empty champagne glass. _Screw it_, he thought firmly, turning on his heel and all but stomping in the direction of the buffet table. He'd intended to stop at two—drinking too much in a den of monsters was idiotic, he needed to stay sharp—but there was no way he was going to make it through this without a third glass (and maybe even a fourth, if he could get away with it).

He was nearly there when, as he walked by one of the louder bunches, one of the men there ducked out of the group with a sudden step backwards and walked right into Sam's path. He barely managed to dodge, and the person in question glanced up at him in surprise.

This one wasn't exactly a man; he had the tall, muscular build that identified him as a wolf, but his face was clearly marked with the vestiges of teenage youth, and he was much shorter and lankier than all the others he'd seen. His eyebrows lifted in surprise at the sight of Sam eyeing him from above.

"Oh—sorry 'bout that! What's your name?" he asked without preamble, his voice eager and energetic.

"Sam Winchester," he replied coldly, not bothering to put on any semblance of politesse.

"I'm Seth!" the kid said back. "What're you doing here—somebody bring you?"

"Leah Clearwater invited me," Sam repeated wearily, flicking a brief but longing look at the bubbling fountain of sweet booze just a few yards away.

"Leah?" Seth said, his incredulity snapping Sam's attention back to him, and he braced himself for some new fresh hell. "She's my sister!"

Sam blinked for a moment at Seth, and then nodded, holding out his hand, saying "Oh, yeah—Leah mentioned you a few times."

Seth nearly shook his arm out of its socket. "Funny—she never mentioned you," he said curiously.

"I can't imagine why," Sam said flatly.

"Neither can I!" Seth burbled, Sam's tone quite as lost on him as it seemed to be on every one of these asshats. His face-splitting grin still in place, he asked, "You having a good time?"

Sam opened his mouth to answer, but Seth didn't seem to really want one, instead talking right over him while gesturing to the crowd. "Man, I bet you _never_ guessed that Leah would have relatives like _this_!"

"Believe me," Sam said in all seriousness, "there is no possible way I could have even _imagined_ it."

"I don't get it!" Seth went on as if he hadn't heard Sam. "Leah ran off and left all this behind? I mean, Jacob's the best Alpha anyone could ask for! Doesn't hover, pretty lenient on orders, always sticks up for what's right—and he's best friends with all the Cullens! All that crap about how we're supposed to be vampires' mortal enemies is so stupid, but Jacob doesn't let all that prejudice get in his way! I mean, why would we want to be enemies with these people? Edward is really one of the coolest guys I know—he let me drive his Aston Martin once! Bet you didn't even know you could buy those in this country, eh?"

"I—"

"Jake's already promised that when he's married, he'll buy me a Corvette ZR1 for being his groomsman! Can you believe that? I know he and Nessie wanted to give all the bridesmaids and groomsmen presents, since it's tradition and all, but neither of them really wanted to do just the normal stuff—I mean, why should they? It's not like money will a problem once he's part of the family!"

"Well, that's—"

"Man, I don't know why Leah wanted to come up here so late and miss out on all the girls doing their stuff—I heard what all the girls got from Nessie, the dresses and makeup and stuff. Leah could probably use some of what they did, anyway. Ugh, I'm sorry—I gotta go, Jake sent me out to find the bridal party. I have to find his dad and Charlie. See you later, and have a good time! Feel free to ask for anything—nothing's too much for these guys!"

And then he was gone, leaving Sam with his mouth hanging open and his brain still trying to process what had just happened.

_What the hell?_ He'd never heard so much ass-kissing in such a short amount of time in his life—although he guessed the kid managed by taking as few breaths between praises as possible. Not to mention that he was _literally squeeing_ over these vampire scum (the only time he'd ever seen another grown man even approach this level of indignity was when he'd surprised Dean with tickets to a Def Leppard concert). But worst of all was that in that entire monologue, he hadn't asked about his sister even _once_, despite the fact that he hadn't seen her in four years.

Sam quickly resumed his journey to the champagne, privately vowing that if one more of these sorry bastards sidelined him he was going to forego any attempt at manners and pretend they didn't exist.

Fortunately, he made it to his destination with no problems (finally), detouring around yet another wolf standing by the beer and jamming his glass into the champagne fountain with much more force than was necessary before downing half of it in one gulp. He filled up again, doing his best to keep his angry muttering to a minimum. As he glanced down the table at the food, his stomach beginning to insist that maybe he make himself a plate, a voice spoke up to his right.

"Hey—are you one of the guys who came in with Leah?"

Sam snapped his head around, his eyes narrowed and his mouth tight. It was that same wolf he'd passed on his way. He was just a little taller than Sam was, and he blinked in surprise at the venomous expression on Sam's face. "Yeah," Sam replied belligerently, unable to keep himself from crossing his arms tightly over his chest, bracing for a confrontation.

The guy glanced away for a moment. "Are you Dean?" he asked hesitantly.

"No—I'm Sam," he said, unable to keep the challenge from his voice, daring this dick to just try and say something about it.

This one, however, had no reaction to his name, for good or ill—he just looked very unsure. "Uh—I'm Embry Call," he mumbled, holding out his hand tentatively. "I'm part of Leah's pack?"

Sam shook Embry's hand once, although he felt a bit of the tightness ease from his shoulders. He tried to rearrange his face into something pleasant, as it was obvious that Embry was casting about for something to say, and was somewhat confused by Sam's outright aggression.

"Um…so, how's Leah been?" he finally managed. "She doing all right?"

Sam felt his eyebrows raise; this was the first person since Chief Swan who has spoken about Leah in a tone of genuine interest. "She's fine," he said, still slightly wary.

"I wanted to catch up with her before the actual wedding started," Embry continued, sounding a bit more at ease as he kept talking. "But I never saw her—you know where she is?"

"Some vamp named Alice took her off somewhere," Sam replied.

Embry snorted, but there wasn't a great deal of humor in it. "That explains it. I didn't think Jake was serious when he told Alice she'd have to get Leah decent for the wedding," he said dryly.

Sam's instinctive anger flared immediately. "She _is_ decent. She told him she'd take care of it, and she _did_," he growled.

Embry glanced up, looking a bit surprised but meeting his gaze more firmly this time, and then shrugged as he looked off again. "I'm sure she did. I mean, she's not an idiot and can take care of herself. But…" He gestured at the crowd. "Well, not only do most of the people here like to nitpick, but they _really_ like to nitpick at Leah."

Sam stared in silence at Embry for a moment, noting the almost uncomfortable expression on his face as he regarded the rest of the guests, pensively sipping at his beer. He relaxed a little more, and finally said, "Yeah, I'd gotten that general impression." Embry snorted again, and Sam looked hard at him; he was looking back at him attentively, his face open, and after a moment of thought Sam went on. "I just can't figure out _why_. I've been hanging out with Leah for two years—she's nothing like what these people make her out to be."

Embry shifted awkwardly. "Well…it's kinda complicated," he began, scratching his neck.

"Don't say it has to do with that imprinting crap," Sam said warningly.

Embry blew a breath out through his mouth, ruffling the fringe of hair above his forehead. "It kind of does, but not nearly as much as everyone makes it out to be," he said. "Back when Leah first joined the pack, she…wasn't exactly the most pleasant person to be around. I'm not saying some of us didn't deserve the nasty stuff she would sometimes say," he said hastily, "but _man_…she has one of the worst tempers I've ever seen, and she gets _mean_ when she gets mad," he explained.

Sam couldn't help but bounce his eyebrows and nod in agreement—he'd been on the receiving end of Leah's temper before. Embry wasn't lying. Leah was the type to let her anger simmer, to tenaciously hold on to her grudges and just seethe until she exploded—and when she did, she went straight for the throat. "So, while we never really made any efforts to make her welcome," Embry was going on, and Sam could hear the clear note of regret in his tone, "she didn't make any efforts to try and _be_ welcome, either. It was just a mess."

"Okay—so it _was_," Sam said. "But she's not like that anymore."

"No," Embry conceded. "She's not—I swear, that yoga class she took up was some kind of miracle. She signed up, and a few sessions later, it was like she went Zen—well, as compared to how she was before. I kinda started hanging out with her after that." Embry chuckled a little. "Really, I think we did both kinda ended up thrown together just because there was no one else for us to hang out _with_. Pretty much everybody else refused to have anything to do with her, even her own brother, and, well…" Embry's mouth twisted wryly. "When you're the only guy in the pack who not only doesn't have a girlfriend but hasn't imprinted yet?" He shrugged. "You kind of get left out."

"But—they're still holding on to whatever she did in the past? To the point that they're just making stuff up about her, just so long as it's bad?" Sam had to ask, incredulous. "I mean, the crap I've heard some people saying about her…" He trailed off, shaking his head.

Embry sighed. "Yeah, I heard some of it, too." He looked back at Sam, clearly uncomfortable. "And, uh—I just wanna say I'm sorry about…all that. I, uh, know what they're saying about you and her." He held up a placating hand. "Believe me, I know it's not true—she got over that a long time ago, and trust me when I say she burned the bridge, too." His mouth twisted. "I really don't know why everybody seems to have forgotten that fight she and Sam had a few months after she ditched his pack and joined up with Jacob—they had it out, and that was that. At least for her."

"Sounds to me like it's them who won't let it go," Sam said dryly, though he was grateful to hear Embry's words.

Embry just nodded in wry agreement, and they lapsed into silence again, this one not unpleasant. It was Embry who broke it with a friendly attempt at small talk. "So, uh—you came in with your brother, Dean?"

"Yeah," Sam replied. "He's probably off eating something somewhere." He furrowed his brows a little and scanned the crowd. "I haven't seen him for a bit, though."

"Just between you and me, from what I've seen and heard, I don't think he's having fun, either," Embry remarked quietly, a small smile on his face. Then, he said offhandedly, "And the other guy you came in with? Who is that guy?"

Sam deliberately kept his gaze on the crowd. "That's just Cas. He's a friend."

Embry gave Sam a slightly skeptical look. "Well, I gotta say—Leah has picked up a very interesting friend," he said, and took a drink of his beer.

Sam looked back at Embry; he clearly didn't believe Sam's casual act, but he could tell that he wasn't going to outright ask about it, so Sam just shrugged with studied nonchalance and said, "Actually, he's a total stiff. Good guy, though. He'll drink you under the table, too."

Embry laughed, but didn't press the subject any further, for which Sam was thankful. Sam checked his watch, and then huffed a little. "Speaking of Cas, I think I'd better gather my forces—it's ten-fifteen. I have a feeling they're going to start rounding us up for the wedding soon."

Embry nodded and held out his hand. "Nice meeting you, Sam," he said, and he sounded like he meant it. "And if I don't see her before they get started, tell Leah I said hi and to come find me afterwards—we really need to plan a day where we can play some Halo."

"I'll tell her," Sam said, smiling as he gave Embry a much friendlier handshake this time, and then made a beeline for Cas, walking quickly so no one in the crowd would try to talk to him.

Cas was still standing beneath his trellis, the only change being that he now had an empty beer glass in one hand. "Hey, Cas," Sam said with a sigh, happy to be in a vampire-free zone.

"Sam," Cas answered with a nod.

Sam glanced around at the obvious empty space surrounding them. "Have you been…_avoided_ like this this whole time?" he asked.

"Yes," he answered. "I make the werewolves uncomfortable, and I gather that the vampires find it physically painful to be too close to me."

"Good," Sam said viciously. He tilted his head to regard him. "They've been asking me about you—I think they know that you're…different."

Cas nodded. "From what I've gleaned from the minds here, none of the wolves or vampires believe I'm human." He looked passively out over the crowd. "The rest of the humans are taking cues from them and staying away as well—except for the police chief. He brought me a beer," he said, indicating the glass in his hand.

Sam's stomach swooped a little. "Ah—the police chief?" he asked. "What—what did he want?"

"He just said hello. He seemed to think it was odd that I was by myself." His brows knitted briefly. "He wanted to know about my study of the Bible."

Sam closed his eyes. "And…what did you say?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"I told him that I don't need to study it—I know the Word of God in its entirety."

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. It could have been worse, but really, by now you'd think they'd know better than to leave the angel by himself. "Well," he said, "I guess we should find Dean."

"Here he comes now," Cas said, and Sam turned around to look. "I don't think he's very happy."

That was an understatement. Dean was storming across the Astroturf, his face black and his fists clenched. He stomped right up to Sam and before he could say a word, Dean snarled, "Goddammit, the next one of these sparkling dickheads starts going on about my 'outrageous flavor' is getting a salad fork in the eye!"

Sam blinked. "Your…what?" he asked, nonplussed.

"_I_ didn't say it," Dean growled. "But _every one_ of these mincing homos I run into, they start _gushing_ about my 'delectable aroma' and how 'they've never smelled anything like it,' and 'that to taste your blood would be so _amazing_'—my _God_!" He was roaring now, waving his arms like a windmill. "Who _says_ stuff like that?"

"Dean," said Sam, who was marveling over how even his voice was and that not a single squeak of laughter had escaped him, "lower your voice."

"Why should I?" he demanded. "They can hear me anyway."

They could, too, and Sam avoided all the red and yellow eyes that were turning toward them as Dean ranted. "And I hope they do!" he fumed.

"Dean," Sam said again in his best calming voice, "you need to calm down. They were bugging me too."

"Oh, really?" he shot back angrily. "They 'bugged you too.' You mean, they all wanted to _eat_ you? _Every single one_ of them?"

Sam's jaw dropped briefly, but he closed it and then conceded, "Well, no, but—"

Dean wasn't done. "And if they didn't just want to eat me," he seethed, "then they were telling me that, oh, they would love to _change_ me, I would make such an amazing and powerful vampire, that my chances were very good, and that it would 'only hurt for a moment'!" His face worked in wordless outrage before he gawped with sudden, horrified comprehension. "Sam—I just got propositioned by a _dude_!"

Sam blinked rapidly, but he couldn't help it—he laughed.

"Oh, you think this is funny, do you?" Dean snarled.

"Well, considering how _un_-funny this day has been so far, yeah," Sam chortled back at him.

Dean was muttering under his breath. "They would _not_ leave me alone! Everywhere I went, there was another one, just lying in wait like a spider, all wanting to turn me into one of them or just eat me—or do me," he groused. "Some chick tried to get me to sneak off behind the driftwood with her—as if I want to screw a bloodsucking Frigidaire," he sneered.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Ah—was that Tanya? The blonde in blue?"

Dean gave him a sideways look. "Yeah—why?"

He smirked. "Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but you're not special in that regard."

Dean stared at him, and then scowled horribly at his smug grin. "Yeah, well—did you get told that you would be much better to be suited to being a vampire, because as a human you were nothing but wasted potential?" he wanted to know.

Sam sobered at that. "Not exactly," he replied. He looked around for Eleazar's dark head, and looked quickly away again when he saw him staring avariciously in their direction. "I was told that I already had gifts like a vampire—and that I smelled of sulfur," he said tartly.

Dean stared, and then his mouth dropped open in outrage. "Those _sons_ of—"

"_Dean_," Sam cut him off before he could build up a good head of steam. "You are really attracting attention."

He subsided into impotent fuming, casting dark looks at the vampires around him. "Okay, so—fine," he said after a moment. "I can see why they'd all be into _you_—but why the hell are all coming on to _me_?"

Surprisingly, it was Castiel who chimed in. "Perhaps it is because you are Michael's True Vessel," he suggested.

They both turned to look at him in surprise. "What?" Dean asked blankly.

Cas replied matter-of-factly. "You are the most unique and powerful vessel on the planet, Dean—and that power is in your blood. Even Sam could not contain Lucifer without drinking—" He stopped, confused, as Sam and Dean both started frantically waving at him to censor himself. "…what he…had to drink," he said hesitantly, and then straightened and continued as they relaxed. "But you could have carried Michael unaided and with no ill effects—maybe the vampires are sensitive to the strength of your blood."

Dean stared at him, and then thrust his chin out. "Yeah, well—I said no to that dick—and I'm saying no to these too! Ow!" he hollered as Sam stomped hard on his foot. He opened his mouth to angrily demand what the hell he was doing, but Sam gestured meaningfully to the surrounding crowd—many of whom were now giving them very dirty looks.

Dean glared defiantly back at them, but quieted down all the same. Reassured that he wasn't going to start anything, Sam asked him, "So—did any of the wolves talk to you?"

Dean's face, which had been smoothing out, dropped back into an angry glower. "No—because all the stupid vampires were too busy sniffing my ass!"

"Well—I did," Sam said grimly. "Did you know that Leah is a raging slut who is sleeping with all three of us just to get revenge on her old boyfriend?"

Dean's mouth fell open. Sam went on. "Oh—and that she also picked us up specifically because my name is Sam and she's using me as some sort of sick proxy? I mean, she's that much of a bitch, after all."

His brother was speechless, a rare occurrence. Cas, however, was not. "I haven't slept with her," he said, bewildered.

That snapped Dean out of it. "Cas," he said, closing his eyes, "you're not helping."

Cas still looked vaguely worried. Dean just shook his head. "Are you serious about that?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm serious," Sam said tiredly. "I was actually pulled aside by some of them so they could, you know, warn me off of her—but only because they were worried about her old boyfriend."

Dean took a deep breath. "I absolutely cannot believe these people," he said slowly. "I admit it—I thought Leah might have been exaggerating a little…but this…" He looked all around them. "Things like this should not exist!" he said, almost desperately.

"No—no, they shouldn't," Sam agreed fervently.

"Yeah—but they do."

Sam whirled around in surprise, and Dean did the same. It was Leah. She looked drawn and tired—but otherwise no different than she had when she'd left them. "Dean," she said, rubbing her temple, "please tell me you have some aspirin?"

He did; she took three of them gratefully and swallowed them dry. "Well, I escaped," she announced, smiling weakly. "You boys okay?"

Sam glanced at Dean, who just said, "Yeah—we're fine. You?"

"They, ah, don't seem to have made you over," Sam observed.

Leah shook her head wearily. "Not for lack of trying," she sighed. "Alice had this stunning orange muumuu complete with beaded fringe that she wanted to dress me in."

Dean looked indignant. "Why the hell would they want to do that?" he demanded. "You're hot!"

"I guess they don't agree," she said dryly. "That, or they just want me to look like all the rest of the redskins."

Sam felt his eyebrows draw together angrily, and Dean made a noise of disgust. Leah gave a small smile and said, "But I finally got rid of her by telling her that the dress was a gift from you guys and that I didn't want to be ungrateful."

"Damn straight," said Dean stoutly, although Sam could only sigh internally; he knew how that remark had been misinterpreted further down the line.

Leah leaned her forehead into her hand but then let it drop, trailing down over her neck—and she suddenly smiled with a little of her familiar mischief as her fingers brushed over her necklace. "There was one good thing that came out of it, though," she said. She smiled, and it was not at all benign. "Bella did comment on my necklace—she said it was just amazing what they could do with costume jewelry these days."

Sam nearly choked in disbelieving laughter. Dean, however, looked indignant. "What, you mean we—" he stopped abruptly, and then dropped to a whisper. "You mean we had him swipe that thing for nothing?" he hissed.

Leah smiled beatifically. "No, Dean," she said. "It was so, _so_ worth it." Then she sighed, her brief burst of defiance spent. "Really, I think the only reason I got away was because it was time for people to start gathering for the ceremony—look."

They did, and sure enough, while they had been speaking, the milling crowds had been slowly migrating towards the seats lined beneath the awning.

"Oh, goodie," Dean said, positively brimming with enthusiasm.

Leah bounced her eyebrows in agreement, but then stiffened. "Don't look now," she said out of one corner of her mouth. "but here come the proud parents of the bride."

Sam looked, and he looked again. There they were, walking towards them—the proud _seventeen-year-old_ parents. He didn't care how old they really were—it still looked awful, like the June Issue of Trailer Park Weddings. The woman—no, _girl_, he insisted to himself—was wearing yet another gown straight off the rack of J.C. Penney Hookerwear, and the diamonds around her neck were so tacky and ostentatious that they couldn't be anything but real. The languid, haughty boy behind her was hovering closely over her shoulder, his eyes darting from side to side as they drew close—until they came to rest on Cas.

Both of them came to an abrupt halt just as that Alice vampire had, rocking back on their heels as their eyes widened and they stared almost slack-jawed at Castiel, who gazed very seriously back. However, the boy—who could only be one Edward Cullen, Sam realized, who Leah had told them all about—was looking almost _angrily_ at Cas, glaring at him as if the angel had just told him his mother had an unwholesome affinity for donkeys. It took Sam a moment, but he suddenly put two and two together and could not help the small, smug smirk that twisted his mouth.

Of course—Edward Cullen. Leah had told them plenty of horror stories about _that_ pompous asshole—including the fact that he had what was considered a fairly impressive ability in the vampire community. He and Dean had not been at all keen about being in the same place as a vampire that could read minds without any apparent effort—it had nearly been the deal-breaker against them coming at all. But before they'd let Leah down, Dean had decided to ask Cas if he could take care of that particular problem. And luckily, Cas had said that he could. Best Sam could figure from the strange explanation he'd given, he was essentially filling the air with the brainwave equivalent of static interference, effectively shutting down any telepath within a ten-mile radius of where he stood.

Judging by the way that Edward was attempting to hate Castiel to death, he'd just figured out the source of his radio silence.

Once again, Leah directed conversation away from Cas by speaking first. "Hello again, Bella," she said, bringing their attention to her. Well, Bella's attention, anyway—Edward was still giving Cas the most ridiculously pissy glower he'd ever seen, while Cas just stared back, that omnipresent crease between his brows deepening slightly.

"Oh—yes, hello, Leah," Bella managed, shaking herself but still looking a bit twitchy. "So lovely to have you back for the wedding." Her smile was everything artificial and insincere. "Are these the friends you mentioned?"

"Yes," Leah said, and began gesturing to each of them as she had several times before. "This is Dean and Sam Winchester, and this is Cas."

Sam could only stare as Bella stepped forward, shaking out her perfectly-coiffed hair, and grabbing Edward's hand and pulling him to stand close. As she drew their linked hands upwards and forward to rest affectedly against his chest, Sam realized that she was making a very deliberate show of their wedding rings, hers a cheese-grater-like abomination of silver and diamonds and his just a plain band.

"I'm Bella Cullen, and this is my husband Edward," she said as charmingly as possible, thrusting out her chest, and one of her legs calculatedly poking out of the way-too-high slit in her dress. "We're Renesmee's parents."

Sam flicked his eyes over to Dean, who was watching the two literally _strike a pose_ in front of them with abject disbelief. Their little moment was ruined when Bella's artful smile wilted slightly in the face of their silence. Shortly afterwards, Edward suddenly spoke, still staring at Cas. "Cas what, exactly?" he asked, trying to sound polite but mostly just sounding pushy.

Leah answered before Cas did this time. "Castiel," she said bluntly. "He's not from around here."

Edward finally looked away from Cas, mostly to give Leah a contemptuous look down his angular nose. He took a breath to speak, and then Sam heard his brother audibly _growl_ when the vampire's eyes went wide and his focus was abruptly on Dean, Castiel all but forgotten. Sam glanced over to see Dean drag his hand over his face, rubbing his chin furiously and turning away when Bella had the exact same dramatic reaction as her husband.

"My word—Dean, I can scarcely believe it, but—" Edward gasped, trying to articulate himself. "You must be quite the center of attention at this party," he finally said, still sounding stunned, but now also vaguely amused.

"Oh, yeah, I'm an all-around popular guy!" Dean snarled furiously.

"Your smell even tempts _me_!" Bella exclaimed, as if that were something unheard of.

"The only human I've ever smelled who was more mouth-watering than you was my wife when she was human, and that was because she was my singer: her blood called to me more strongly than any other," Edward elaborated further.

Dean looked like he was about to throw a genuine tantrum as he glared ferociously at them both. "Well, I'm so glad my eau de cheeseburger is going over so well with you people. I bought it just for this monster mash!" he exclaimed, a note of angry hysteria creeping into his voice.

Sam was afraid his brother was going to start screaming—or worse, just try to punch one of them in the face—when they both just laughed pompously at him. "Cheeseburger? You don't smell like a cheeseburger," Bella chuckled as she waved her hand dismissively. "You smell—" She leaned forward, inhaling deeply, and Sam was alarmed to see Dean's hand—the one clutching the cocktail fork—twitch menacingly. Dean gave him a petulant scowl when Sam gently took it away from him, but only briefly, keeping his eyes trained on the vampire leaning in so close, and his jaw clenched when Bella started talking again.

"I smell…jasmine, yes, there is very clearly some jasmine in there. And honey! _Clover_ honey," she breathed orgasmically, her eyes closed in rapture.

Edward was openly sniffing at him now, too. "Not just that—there is laurel and sandalwood, too. And a hint of ocean breeze," he added decisively.

"And something else, Edward, I can't really put my finger on it…it's so indistinct, but it is there…" She opened her eyes and turned to Edward. "You're better at this than me, can you tell what it is?" she asked.

Edward took one last huff, his eyes closed in contemplation, and then he opened them again. "Morning dew," he smirked, giving Bella a triumphant look.

She laughed. "It's not fair, you have almost a century more experience than me." She turned back, as if suddenly remembering they were still standing there. "It truly is amazing, Dean. Such a wonderful scent—doesn't that indicate strong potential?" she said eagerly to her husband, again forgetting the rest of them.

"Yes," Edward said, nodding wisely.

"Maybe he's like me," she continued. "_I_ was pretty much born to be a vampire, after all," she said, turning back to Dean. "You know, you might _almost_ be as powerful as me, if you were one of us." She finally seemed to remember why she had come over to them in the first place. "Well, anyway, it's almost time for the ceremony to begin—if you all would not mind finding seats? And you will need to be on the wolf side, please, since you came with Leah." She tossed them all a dazzling smile, gave Dean one long, last sniff, and then the two of them flounced off, going over to round up any other stray guests they could find, with Edward throwing one more petulant, suspicious look over his shoulder at Cas.

Nobody said anything. Sam still couldn't quite believe what had just transpired, and was torn between outraged disbelief and the urge to just burst out laughing. He could tell Leah was in the same predicament, while Dean just had that stunned, blank look he'd had since Bella had first said the word "jasmine."

Sam finally felt that he had himself under control so that he could speak without laughing. "Morning—"

"_Shut up!_" Dean barked. "I do not—I do _not_ smell like that. _Any_ of that!"

"No," Leah said mildly. "You smell like Calvin Klein." She leaned forward to affectionately pat Dean's butt. "I suppose it covers your natural floral scent."

"You can just go hump a tree," he grumbled, crossing his arms furiously and glaring accusingly at the world at large.

Leah chuckled, but quickly sobered, threading her arms through theirs again (having to use a little force to make Dean unfold his). She stared unhappily at the seating area, the rows of white chairs slowly filling up with humans and wolves and vampires.

"Come on, guys," she sighed. "Let's go."


	7. High Crimes and Misdemeanors

**Author's Note:** Well, we have bid farewell to Sam's head. Now we get to jump into his brother's! Chapter title and soundtrack is from the Styx song "High Crimes and Misdemeanors."

**Spoilers:** Spoilers for _Twilight_, _New Moon_, _Eclipse_, _Breaking Dawn_, and all six seasons of "Supernatural."

**Disclaimer: "Supernatural" is the property of Kripke Enterprises and Warner Bros. Television. The Twilight Saga is the property of Stephenie Meyer and Little, Brown and Co. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from this work.**

* * *

**Chapter 7 – High Crimes and Misdemeanors**

About three things Dean was absolutely positive. First, these people were douchebags. Second, there was a part of him, and he didn't know how potent that part might be, that was about to commit hari-kari. And third, this was unconditionally and irrevocably the worst party he had ever been to in his _life_.

He was pretty pissed off at Sam for taking his fork—not because he wanted to use it on these pricks any more, but because when the vampire chick at that _stupid_ white piano started playing the freaking Romeo and Juliet love theme, he wanted to jam it into his own ear.

He shifted uncomfortably in his stiff chair, deliberately ignoring every last one of the red-eyed stares he was getting and folding his arms tightly around himself. He didn't want to be this close to the aisle, but Sam and Cas had gone to sit before he had, and since Dean had naturally wanted Leah to sit safely between them, that left the seat unfortunately closer to the vampires for him. Well, he did have to grudgingly admit that keeping Cas as far away from the leeches as possible was probably smart. It was made easier by sitting "wolf side" as that Cullen bitch had put it. Then again, either way, he didn't have to worry about being too close to anyone with Cas around; the entire row in front of them and half of the next one up were completely empty.

When they had first started toward the seating area (Dean dragging his feet the whole way), Leah had reminded them to sign the guestbook. Dean had wanted to skip it, afraid that all the good seats (i.e., the ones in the back) would be taken, but he'd been more than a little disturbed when Leah had just wearily insisted they had to because her Most High Alpha had told her to. Before he could reply and tell her that Jerkoff could just go sit on a cactus, Sam had firmly said that they would sign it, leading them all towards the white book sitting on the white podium near the white curtains at the back of the white tent.

Dean was appalled to see that even a friggin' _notebook_ could be smug in its knowledge that it was better than you, and that stupid gold and ivory thing they had by it was the most ridiculous excuse for a pen he'd ever seen. He'd irritably slashed his name onto the delicate little page (dear God, the pussy paper was _rose-scented_), receiving a reprimand from Sam when he'd not only splattered more ink than was necessary on his signature, but also nearly put a hole through it—well, they should've used _paper_, not _Kleenex_, dammit! After Cas had signed last (and all three of them had insisted he sign it in Enochian), Dean had all but dragged them to the foofy chairs, ready to forcibly eject someone if they couldn't get a seat in the back.

Surprisingly—or really, _un_surprisingly, considering this bunch, the front had filled up first and the back was still completely empty. They'd filed in one by one into the last row, booting Cas all the way to the last chair on the end so Dean could still put as much distance between himself and all the blood-sucking freaks as he could—which was still not enough, as far as he was concerned. However, he thought as he glanced briefly down at the kid sitting next to him, he supposed it could be worse, because at least he had a bit of a blocker.

Dean had once again had to tamp down the urge to charge forward and pistol-whip that _disgusting_ wolf Quil when he'd spotted the sicko practically on his knees begging Leah's poor little niece Claire to sit up front so he could be near her. She'd thrown an impressively silent fit, telling him in no uncertain terms what she thought of _that_ seating arrangement, and then stomped down the aisle away from him, leaving Quil to stand up there and pout. But his pout had quickly turned into a dangerous glare, because Claire had stopped mid-step when she saw Dean and, with fiery defiance, had plonked herself in the empty seat right next to him in the very back row, her jaw set and her expression rebellious. Dean couldn't help it—he'd given her an approving nod and an encouraging thumbs up. She'd grinned and blushed a little, poking her chin out at Quil once more before he stalked off to do whatever duties a best man had to do.

And now, here they were, all five of them in a row, watching as the bridal party started making their grand entrance through the white curtains that had been drawn over the back of the pavilion.

In came the bridesmaids and groomsmen, two by two. The first couple was a hot blonde who looked mercifully legal, walking on the arm of what was clearly a wolf, even though he looked pretty young. _He_ looked like he was having trouble containing his excitement; Dean thought that if he didn't chill out, he was going to start panting. The chick, however, didn't look all that amused with the goings-on as she clutched the small bouquet of white and pale yellow flowers. She wore the same revealing gold dress as Alice had been wearing, the frilly skirts fluttering as she moved, the slit in the front exposing her pasty white skin from her navel all the way up to between her boobs (why did all the vampires insist on cutting holes in their dresses?). Said dress still looked pretty ridiculous on her, seeing as how legal or no, she still only looked at most nineteen. But then Alice made her way in, and that just looked disturbing, because she only looked _fourteen_.

His second look at Alice in her Sluts R' Us gear wasn't any better than the first, particularly because she was clinging to the arm of the best man—who was none other than good old Quil. Dean didn't think that particular sight could get any worse. Then he found out just how wrong he could be when Quil started smiling stupidly at Claire over Alice's tiny head as he passed their row. His eyes went hard, though, when they flickered up to Dean, giving him the stink-eye. Dean responded in kind until Quil turned his eyes forward. His steps hadn't faltered even as he turned, staying fluid and deliberate the whole way. Alice, on the other hand, looked like she was trying to _dance_ down the aisle. Dean wondered if she knew how stupid she looked.

A ring bearer and flower girl came in shortly after, and Dean nearly horfed when he saw it was that kid vampire named Maggie he'd met earlier, and she was wearing the _exact_ same dress as the bridesmaids were, slits and all, only in miniature. _Jesus Christ, is everyone here a pedophile?_ he thought in revulsion, watching as the ten-year-old threw the white rose petals in her white basket down behind her on the white aisle with ridiculous (white) precision.

The attendants were assembled in their appropriate spots in the front when Dean turned to wait for the bride to walk through with a certain measure of apprehension. He was perplexed when she didn't. Instead, Bella Cullen came marching in, her movements so precise and mechanical that it took a swan-dive right into the Uncanny Valley. Her nose was in the air and her chest was thrown out—probably to best call attention to those rocks around her neck. Every time she took a step, almost her entire leg would snake out of that slit in her skirt, and she was just overflowing with self-satisfied pride. Dean resisted the urge to stick his foot out and trip her as she strutted by.

He considered leaning around Leah and asking Sam if the mother of the bride often walked in alone with a bouquet in a wedding, but decided against it because the music was swelling and the curtains rasped as they were drawn farther apart. He twisted in his seat; the legendary Renesmee Cullen herself was coming, and considering all that he'd heard about her, he wasn't about to miss this.

The music finally crested and then the (teenaged) bride walked in, tightly clutching her (teenaged) father's arm. Edward looked just as douchey as he did thirty minutes ago, which was no surprise. But Dean barely noticed him, because of the mass of white walking beside him.

The skirt was so…_fluffy_. Layer upon layer upon layer of white erupted outward from her waist down like an exploded Twinkie. Apparently, that was where most of the material for the gown went, because in their zeal to let the world know that yes, they _could_ fit an entire VW bug under there, whoever designed it seemed to have forgotten to put anything _above_ her waist. The top was nothing but an elaborate piece of netting and lace that twinkled with tiny gemstones, exposing most of her torso to anyone who cared to look. Her neck, shoulders, and chest were dripping with a massive diamond necklace that really was more or less a diamond _shawl_. A diamond-studded veil covered her face, held in place by an actual diamond tiara straight out of Disneyland, and her hair was in an elaborate style of shiny brown curls that flowed all the way down to her ass, and her lace-gloved arms disappeared up to the elbow into a giant wad of white flowers.

_And she's only ten_, his brain suddenly reminded him as she flowed past, and he stared in mute horror at all that underage flesh that was exposed to the world. He hadn't thought it possible, but his horror only increased when he looked up and saw that the groom was all but salivating, and looked like he was about to dash down the aisle and hump her leg as his blushing baby bride slowly made her way up to him.

Dean now regretted eating that last stuffed pepper on top of those garlic cookies after scarfing all that bacon pizza "flaming cooch" or whatever it was. Because he was gonna throw up.

Dean turned away, wanting to look anywhere but at…at _that_. He glanced down the line; Leah's face was like a stone, her lips pursed together and her eyes fixed forward. Sam's face was completely blank, and Dean could tell he had absolutely nothing. Cas, however, wasn't even looking at the bride—he was staring intently at the flowers attached to the side of the chair in front of him; upon further inspection, Dean realized that his attention was absorbed by the bee buzzing lazily over the giant blossoms. That lucky bastard.

As the bride walked down the aisle at an agonizing pace, Dean almost wished they were still out there mingling with the guests—_almost_. But even watching this obscene parade was better than being propositioned and sniffed and groped and all but _licked_—although it was a pretty close race. He looked out at the rest of the crowd, staring in disbelief at their rapturous faces as they watched her finally step onto the raised platform where Jacob was waiting. Edward followed, and Dean blinked when the kid went from supercilious to super-_fabulous_ as he abruptly started sparkling up a storm, throwing tiny rainbows all over the place like the little fairy he was. For a moment, he wondered what the hell was going on, because Leah had told him that only happened when sunlight shone on these faggy things—but then, as Edward stepped away after making a big show of placing his daughter's lace-wrapped hand into her soon-to-be husband's and the rainbow pageant vanished again, Dean realized that there was a strategically-cut hole in the fabric above, letting the sun shine down on the happy couple. Renesbait didn't sparkle—but the diamonds all over her dress did, and all that skin she had hanging out seemed to glow like a parody of heavenly light.

What the hell kind of candy-ass moron thought up shit like this?

Dean raised his eyes skyward as he tried to process this new horror, listening as the music drew to a close. He turned back to the ceremony in time to see some guy who looked like a mannequin step up to the altar, smiling soppily at the couple before him—that had to be the good doctor, Carlisle Cullen. Leah had mentioned him, saying he would probably direct the ceremony, since he'd apparently been a priest three hundred years ago.

The last note in the song hung for a moment over the silent masses, and then the woman at the piano rose gracefully and pranced over to sit on the first row on the bloodsucker side next to Bella and Edward. Once she had settled, Carlisle gave a beatific grin to everyone and, even though he didn't have a Bible, started the ceremony.

"Dearly beloved, vampires and wolves," he began, "we are gathered here today in the face of this company, to join together Renesmee Carlie Cullen—" Dean gagged, covered it with a laugh, and then covered _that_ with a cough, "—and Jacob Black in holy matrimony; which is an honorable and solemn estate and therefore is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently and soberly."

Dean looked around at the decorations and the flowers and the bridesmaid dresses and the bride's gown. _And you can stand there and say that with a straight face?_

Speaking of sober, he really wished he wasn't right now. But with that thought, he suddenly became aware of the comforting weight of the hip flask that he'd snuck in his coat pocket; he felt better already. Best not to dip into it yet, though—Leah had said the ceremony might be a little longer than the usual.

Carlisle paused, gazing out over the audience and then taking both Renesbait's and Jacob's hands in his own and held them together. "This marriage—this union—is more than just a simple ceremony," he said. "This is more than a union of two people—this is a union of two _peoples_. For over a thousand years, werewolves and vampires have been mortal enemies. It seemed it was our destiny to spend eternity killing each other. However, eighty years ago, the first step was taken to prove that it was not fate that we be enemies, but _allies_."

Dean heaved a very audible sigh, but was beyond caring as he tried to settle in more comfortably. Leah had been right—this _was_ going to take a while.

"The first treaty was not an alliance, but merely an agreement," Carlisle was droning on. "Nevertheless it was the first time the wolves did not kill a Cold One on sight, instead permitting me and my family to live nearby. Our relationship was tense, but at least it was nonviolent. And so it lasted for over seventy years, our species both walking the thin line between peace and war." Pretty much the entire assembly took their cue from Carlisle when he beamed at his fluttering granddaughter, and their indulgent smiles made Dean want to throw up. Again.

"At first, so many wanted to destroy you, Renesmee—we didn't know what you would bring. Everyone thought you would bring death and destruction. The odds really were not stacked in your favor, had it not been for two remarkable people. First, you were saved by a mother's love, surely the most pure and righteous of all loves. But when even that proved not enough, one wolf stood up for what was right." Carlisle nodded to Jacob, who hadn't looked away from Renesbait once that Dean had seen. "He defended and protected you from those who wanted you dead, uniting with us in a way never seen before." He looked again at Renesbait, chuckling a little. "You take so much after your mother that way."

Dean grimaced, looking away and wishing he could plug his ears just to block out the disgusting coos and titters from everyone at how oh-so-sweet that was. His gaze fell upon Leah, who was ramrod straight, and, judging from her expression, trying her very hardest to light Carlisle on fire with her brain. Dean furrowed his brow for a moment, and then looked back up at Carlisle, who was (of course) still talking.

"Jacob, you went against everyone for Renesmee, standing alone, even though you weren't sure why. But we know now—it was because even before she was born, you somehow _knew_ that you were destined to help end centuries of prejudice, destined to unify your people, and destined to fall in love with the woman who made all of that possible."

_Woman my ass_, Dean thought viciously.

"And now, here we stand, ten years later. So much has happened since then—all of the wolves stood by so many vampires to fight against evil and drive back the forces of darkness, all for _you_, Renesmee. The treaty has now been rewritten not to exclude, but to _include_. So you see, this marriage is not just a marriage, a ceremony done to confirm your love—not that you needed one. Your love for one another has never wavered, and never been anything but of the highest order, since the day you were born."

Carlisle gave a brilliant smile and his next words were spoken as if he expected some kind of heavenly fanfare to start up. "This is going to go down in our history as the day a single woman helped push aside old prejudice and usher in a new era of unity."

Dean could only stare as the audience _got to their feet_ and started _applauding_ that load of horseshit, watching as Renesbait and Jacob made eyes at each other and as the vampires nodded smugly at the lycanthropic side of the room. Nobody in their back row, however, even bothered to get up, much less to clap—Dean was still rather in shock from what he'd just heard. Sam's eyebrows had been migrating northward for the whole speech, and by now they had decided to rent the space right below his hairline. Leah was giving the vampires a fiery glare, the one that Dean knew well by this point—she was two steps away from an explosion. Dean glanced over at Claire, who was just scowling in irritation. A look down at the end of their row revealed that Cas was still motionless, watching the entire affair with that angelic seriousness that always just made him look confused.

Dean didn't care that a few sidelong glances were being tossed their way, nor did he care that Carlisle looked briefly displeased that the entire room hadn't given him a standing ovation. He was still trying to figure out why the hell _that_ had just happened. This was a wedding—why, exactly, did we have to pause for a one-sided history lesson? Besides, he'd already gotten the whole story from Leah, about just what had really happened when Renesbait had been born, and the supposed "fight against evil"—and so he knew exactly why she looked like she wanted to stalk right up there and tell the famous Dr. Cullen the definition of "curb stomp," complete with free demonstration.

Once everyone had settled down again, Carlisle, with that same plastic smile on his face, _finally_ moved on. "Into this estate these two persons present come now to be joined," he said. "If any one can show just cause why they may not be lawfully joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace."

Even as the obvious reply popped into his mind, Dean barely managed to swallow his shout of indignation when Sam reached behind Leah and smacked him on the back of the head. Not that it helped—several people still wound up turning around to see what the noise was. Dean glared at all of them before doing the same to Sam, who was just staring forward with a tiny smirk. Well, he supposed at least Leah's expression was less murderous as a result. Dean huffed and faced forward again.

Carlisle turned expectantly to Bella and Edward. "Who gives this woman to be married to this man?" he asked.

The two teens rose, Bella clinging to Edward's arm as they walked forward and turned the platform into a disco vomit nightmare again.

"We do, her mother and I," Edward said, his voice brimming with self-importance. He looked at Jacob, who finally tore his eyes away from his preteen bride's to acknowledge his new in-laws.

"I called you my son ten years ago, Jacob. Now it will be official. You had best take good care of my beloved only daughter," he continued, his face proud and voice protective.

_Well, not so protective that you won't give your daughter away to a diddler_, Dean sneered internally.

Then Bella stepped up to the plate, and Dean nearly groaned aloud when he realized _she_ was going to start talking now. _Jesus Christ, just shut up and get married already!_

"Renesmee," Bella started, her voice a weird parody of choking up, "my baby girl, getting married already."

_Oh, so we're just gonna hang a lampshade on this, are we?_ Dean glanced down at his watch, bouncing his leg in his impatience. Holy shit—it'd been twenty minutes since this started? It felt more like an hour.

Renesbait was smiling happily at her mother, who was clutching her hands to her breast like a B-movie actress. "From the very beginning, I knew you were worth protecting, worth _saving_. The locket I gave you so many years ago—I still mean what it says. You _are_ worth more than my own life. I would sacrifice myself any number of times for you. I would face down more than just the Volturi—I did that without a thought because _you_ are what matters. Carlisle put it best—you were destined to live because you were destined for _this_, to find a way to bring two peoples blah in unity blah blah my sacrifice blah blah blah—"

Dean wasn't listening. Oh, Bella was still talking, but the only way she could possibly reclaim his interest now was if she suddenly started reciting lines from "Dr. Sexy, M.D." while riding a unicycle and balancing an egg on a spoon.

He couldn't believe this. Carlisle had been half-right—this was most definitely _not_ a wedding. What it _was_ was a bunch of narcissistic monsters getting together and having a nice little community jack-off to their own egos. Yes, white _was_ the most appropriate color to have splashed everywhere, wasn't it?

He glanced down their row; Leah's eyes were shut and she appeared to be taking deep breaths through her nose. Sam's head was minutely shaking as he stared uncomprehendingly at the still-babbling Bella—still babbling about herself, that is, talking about how wonderful she was. Cas, however, was listening very intently, though Dean had no idea why—or _how_. Of course, this was the same guy who sat through and attempted to find meaning in _Fat Guy Goes Nutzoid_ and _The Ghost in the Invisible Bikini_; upon further consideration, Dean figured that Cas just enjoyed pain. He'd have to remember to tell the angel to take some time to visit Mistress Natasha, Our Lady of the Electric Sander or something. That, and warn Leah.

Dean continued to listen with half an ear, ready to just try and settle in and take a nap, until Bella's next words snapped him right back to attention.

"You are _living proof_ that we did everything right. If I hadn't chosen Edward and had instead chosen Jacob, and if he'd not chosen to let me go, we would never have gotten here. All of our destinies came true because we made the right choices," she gushed, all while Edward simpered smugly next to her.

Dean's jaw dropped. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sam's mouth fall open too. Bella was still talking, but Dean knew that now this time, neither he nor his brother were hearing a word of it. In unison, they turned and stared incredulously at one another. Then they both looked at Leah, who was looking less angry now and more or less just…weary of all these shenanigans. She was clearly not going to offer any explanation to what they'd just heard.

Oh, she had told them plenty about what to expect. She'd told them the general story of how the wolves came to be, how the treaty between the Cullens and her pack was formed, how Renesbait was born (and Dean had seen some weird shit in his life, but he'd _never_ heard of anyone having a pregnancy reminiscent of _Species II_). But she'd neglected to mention _this_.

Dean just boggled—Jacob and Bella were an _item_ before all this? _And now the sicko wolf was marrying her daughter?_ He supposed that must've been Jacob's imprinting logic—couldn't have Bella, so he'd just make do and bone her daughter instead! Has to have her somehow, right? And the way Bella was talking—she was _fine_ with this? In fact, she seemed _pleased_, happy that Jacob wasn't left with blue balls, happy that he could make do with a stand-in for her!

_What the fuck _is_ this?_

Bella's sick, digit-dousing speech was finally coming to a close, and she seemed unable to help herself and rushed forward to carefully hug her daughter. Renesbait hugged her back, and then lovingly brushed her mother's cheek with her dainty hand. For a moment, Dean almost thought they were about to start something that would liven up this party (and honestly would not be too much of a surprise, considering how Bella's whole spiel was done strictly to strum both their banjos), but then Dean remembered what Leah had told them about Renesbait's speshul ability.

He was suddenly grateful that Renesbait could do that—God knew what brainless idiocy he would've had to listen to from _her_ if she'd spoken.

Now that the bride had been officially given away, Carlisle started up more traditional wedding speech, with all that crap about the lawfully wedded wife and matrimony and love, honor, and comfort and forsaking all others (oh, they were forsaken, all right). The only thing Dean really heard was the fact that they'd changed the classic line "as long as you both shall live" to "for all eternity." Dean had been unable to hold in the tiny snort that escaped him, and as such had had to ignore several members of the congregation once again swiveling around to look at him, faintly irritated this time.

Jacob then did the same thing, with the same changed line, and then Dean nearly threw up his hands in disbelief when Edward suddenly got up and turned to face the gathered masses. _Not again! Not _another_ speech!_

It turned out to not be a speech. It was worse.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Edward said, "I must now make my small contribution to the wedding of my dearest daughter and her chosen mate. Their love is _so_ inspirational—so it is unsurprising that it inspired me to compose a song, devoted to this destined romance." And then he sashayed over to that white piano, sat his scrawny ass down, and started playing a song as banal and bland as a Kenny G. tune.

That was it. Dean didn't care anymore about waiting. He was obviously in Hell again, where minutes were like hours, so he knew there was no _point_ to waiting. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his flask, unscrewing the silver haven and taking a fortifying swig of whiskey. After pulling a face at the disapproving vampire across the aisle, he offered it to Leah. She smiled a little, but declined. Sam, however, gladly took it and took a much bigger drink than Dean felt he deserved. He snatched it back, scowling at him, and took another shot.

He was about to put the cap back on when he noticed Claire was staring curiously at him. She blushed a little when he noticed her, but didn't look away. After a moment's contemplation, he raised his eyebrows and stealthily offered her the flask. Her eyes widened a little, but their defiant gleam sparked again and she took it from him. She hesitated for a moment after raising it to her nose, but then tipped it back for a tiny sip.

Claire's eyes popped and she choked a little, but he saw her steel herself and swallow it before coughing quietly into her hand, her eyes squinched shut. Dean watched her as he took back the flask, mildly alarmed, but she got her coughing under control in remarkably short time and then looked back up as if for approval, despite sniffing a little. Dean raised his eyebrows, making a circle with his forefinger and thumb to make sure she was okay. When she nodded, looking rather pleased with herself, he gave her a grin and another thumbs up. She held up her fist in reply, and he obligingly bumped it with his own. She bounced a little in her seat, looking cheerful, but when she turned forward again her face immediately dropped into a fierce scowl. Dean followed her gaze, briefly confused—until he saw Uncle Pervert glaring at them both, looking like he wanted nothing more than to come over and try and use Dean's head as a volleyball.

He'd like to see him try. Between Leah, the trick he had up his own sleeve, and the divine nerd sitting a few seats away, Quil didn't stand a chance, and so he just mimicked Claire's look, making it quite clear that both of them were of the opinion that Quil needed to find himself a pile of sand and a hammer and get to pounding.

While Edward banged away at the upright, Dean took some time to glance around at how the rest of the freaks were enjoying the show. The front row of vamps were all laughably entranced by the song, especially the one who'd played the opening march—she looked like she was having one off right there. Alice looked full of herself for no reason whatsoever, but the blonde bridesmaid mostly just looked sour. Nice to see he wasn't alone, even if it was a vamp. Most everyone else, though, was just looking wowed by Edward's song; clearly, by their twisted monster-logic, this was a work of art.

Dean had heard more energetic and emotional songs in elevators. In fact, this thing was so dull and bland it had actually shot right _past_ inoffensiveness and looped back around to become positively insulting.

Dean glanced down at his watch—Jesus, how long would this go on? He'd been playing for six minutes! Now he was _really_ pissed at Sam—that bitch had made him leave his headphones at home, so he had to listen to this instead of some Sabbath or something. But he couldn't take this any more, so he just decided to start counting the tassels in the fringe hanging off the side of the pavilion.

He was finished with one side and halfway through with the next when Edward finally finished his "tribute." That was way too many tassels to play through, in Dean's opinion. When the little queermo hit the final note, Dean rolled his eyes as he watched the idiot bow his head and pretty much _pose_ at the piano—Dean half expected the moron to pull out a candelabra and say how much he wished his brother George was here. Once again, the place erupted in applause, though thankfully they stayed seated this time. Dean wasn't too stunned to applaud this time—he simply _refused_ to put his hands together and celebrate that shitphony. He would _not_.

Edward minced back to his place, and Dean rolled his eyes _again_ when Bella got up to face the audience. _Would they _ever_ shut up?_

"Before the vow exchange, Renesmee asked that I recite a passage from one of her favorite poems. I couldn't agree more—it is so encompassing of her love for Jacob and vice versa, and a love that anybody here who has ever truly loved can relate to," she gushed. "This is a selection from John Donne's Elegy II, 'The Anagram'."

And then she took a breath and started reciting something about musicians and beauty and love and holy _crap_, he didn't care. Sam, however, looked confused for a moment before that look of dawning comprehension Dean knew well overtook him. By the time Bella was finished, talking about how women were like fair angels (and there went Cas, boggling again and clearly not getting it), Sam was rubbing his forehead in clear disgust. Dean vaguely wondered what his problem was, but had no sympathy: that's what he got for actually paying attention to this stuff.

When Bella was finished, she went to sit beside Edward again. The wedding restarted. "The time has come to recite the wedding vows, to pledge yourselves to one another before God," Carlisle intoned.

_Dude_, Dean thought viciously, _if God were really watching this shitfest, He would step in and put a stop to it—and we're talking about the same deadbeat who didn't do squat when His own kids jumpstarted the friggin' Apocalypse!_

Carlisle was gazing expectantly at Jacob, not telling him to repeat after him or anything like that, which lead Dean to only one awful and, of course, correct assumption.

Yes, they had written their own vows.

"My dearest Nessie," Jacob burbled, "I, Jacob Black, vow to forever stand by you, honor you, and love you, as I have since the day you were born—"

And with that, Dean was out again. He glanced over at Sam, who wore a look of abject horror, while Leah just looked vaguely nauseated. Cas was looking mildly interested, as he usually did, but Dean sincerely doubted he really understood a bit of what was spewing out of Jacob's mouth right now, so Dean just looked to the other side.

Claire was obviously unhappy, and not just in the bored sense. A quick look up to the front told him why—Quil was staring at her _again_ while Jacob recited his vows about how he would forever worship the ground Renesbait walked on and how he'd waited so long for her, and Dean wasn't sure if the sick feeling in his stomach was disgust or boiling rage at the drippy but _expectant_ way that Quil was looking at who he clearly felt was his intended.

It didn't get any better when Jacob finished his vows, because then Renesbait started talking. This was really the first time he'd ever heard her speak, and after her opening sentence consisted of, "I, Renesmee Carlie Cullen, take you, Jacob Black, to be my destined and devoted husband, secure in the knowledge that you will be always my constant guardian," he now wished he'd never had that pleasure. While Dean knew about eye-strain, what he was just now discovering was eye-_muscle_-strain. He swore he'd rolled his eyes so hard and so many times that he'd pulled something in his head.

Dean eyed Claire again, and then began digging around in his jacket for a pen. He smiled benignly at her when she looked at him with a curious expression, and then finally fished out the plain blue ballpoint that was tucked in the same pocket as his gun. He stared very seriously at Claire, and, ignoring Renesbait—who was still gushing about what a wonderful wife she was going to be—pretended to jam the tip of the pen in his ear, crossing his eyes and sticking out his tongue.

He smirked when Claire covered her mouth quickly to muffle her giggles, pleased to have been able to lighten her mood. Then he grinned widely when she responded in kind, wrapping her long hair around her neck and pretending to hang herself. Stifling their snickers, they looked up to find themselves once again the object of even more disapproving stares, and they both just glared defiantly back at all the little bitches—including Quil, of course. Did that guy _ever_ take his creepy eyes off of Claire?

The vows were coming to a close, thank God, with Renesbait repeating something along the same lines as Jacob had, that they'd have all eternity to be together. Well, they'd obviously already fulfilled _that_ vow, because they'd been here for-fucking-ever! _Well_, Dean thought grumpily, _at least the ceremony's gonna end now—_

He really needed to learn to stop saying stuff like that. Because now Bella and Edward got up _again_ and announced that they were going to play a duet.

Fuck.

Dean took a much bigger swallow of whiskey than he had originally intended, but he was past caring. Bella and Edward started playing, and while it wasn't the same song, it was the same _bland_. Dean glanced thoughtfully down at his pen, and then he uncapped it and shook back his sleeve a little, exposing the entire back of his hand. Claire watched inquiringly as he drew a grid on his hand and then, with a quick grin at her, drew an "X" in one of the corners and offered her the pen. Understanding sparked in her eyes, and she took the pen from him, tilting her head and mulling over the grid for a moment before she drew an "O" in another corner.

Claire proved to be smarter than his brother, playing Dean to a draw in the first round. He nodded in approval, and once more when Claire raised her own hand and drew another grid. This time, she made the first move and then thrust his pen back at him with a challenging smirk.

A little spit and a well-timed napkin from Leah's purse later, and Dean was scrubbing the back of his hand, mock-glaring at Claire—that kid was way too clever for her own good, picking up his method of attack after just two games, the little punk. Sam had always been too dumb to figure that out when he was her age. Well, Dean wasn't about to be beaten at tic-tac-toe by a twelve-year-old gamer girl, so once he had cleaned his hand off, he laid out yet another game on his wiped canvas and they went at it again.

By the end of the stupid song (which was, incidentally, _sixteen_ games later), he decided that she was a worthy opponent, and that he had better retire while he still had a shred of dignity left. He'd have to teach her to play poker; then she'd be sorry.

Dean huffily wiped their last game away as the round of applause came to a close and Ken Doll Carlisle took back over once Edward and Bella had prissed back to their seats. He took Renesbait and Jacob's hands again as that brunette chick silently went over to the piano—surely that meant they were preparing to play the closing song. It _had_ to mean that!

"Quil?" Carlisle prompted. "The rings, please."

Quil jumped to attention immediately, taking the (white, white, _white_, goddammit) pillow from the little kid next to him, plucking two rings from it and handing them to Carlisle.

Jesus Christ—even from the back he could see Renesbait's ring. It had to be the most hideous, gaudy, _ugly_ piece of trash he'd ever seen. It looked like something he'd get if he stuck a quarter in the cheapest claw machine in town! What _was_ that thing? Hell, it looked like it was eating her finger! _Fashion by Lady Gaga_, he supposed irritably.

He paid no attention to any of the "with this ring I thee wed" crap. He only started paying attention when Carlisle gave a face-cracking smile and everyone seemed to hold their breath—surely it was about to end. It _had_ to. Please?

Carlisle started up. "May this couple be prepared to continue to give, be able to forgive, and experience more and more joy with each passing day, with each passing year, with each passing century," he said serenely. "Jacob and Renesmee are now beginning their timeless married life together. We know that they will have loving assistance from their family, the constant support of friends, and an eternal life with good health and everlasting love. In so much as Jacob and Renesmee have consented to live forever together in wedlock, and have witnessed the same before this company, having given and pledged their troth, each to the other, and having declared same by the giving and receiving of a ring, I pronounce that they are husband and wife."

_Yeah, yeah, he pledges to forever be the Robert DeNiro to your Jodie Foster_, Dean sneered inwardly. _Can we get on with it, please?_

"You may now seal the promises you have made each other with a kiss," Carlisle said adoringly. And after Jacob had lifted her veil, Renesbait threw her arms around his neck, somehow keeping that bouquet from flying apart, and Dean wanted to heave as he had to watch Jacob smooch and slobber on and all but _fondle_ a ten-freaking-year-old girl. _Oh, but officer, she looked eighteen, and she told me she was legal!_ Dean wanted to go for the flask, but it was too close to the end. He could wait it out. He _would_ wait it out.

Once they were finished petting each other, they broke apart (Dean resisted the sick urge to check and see if Jacob had a boner) and turned to face the crowd.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" Carlisle announced proudly. "I present to you the loving couple, Mr. and Mrs. Cullen-Black!"

The chick at the piano immediately went to town, but right before Jacob and Renesbait started down the aisle, a—no. No, no, _no_. This wasn't happening.

But it was. A beautiful little shower of white rose petals came pouring out of that strategically-placed hole over their heads, fluttering all around the happy couple like dead moths.

Dean just stared, shaking his head in numb disbelief. Was someone perhaps manning the white doves outside? He looked to one side, catching Sam's eye, and there were no words. None. Dean glanced at Leah, and wondered if maybe he should poke her—she seemed to be going through a bit of a blue screen of death. Dean looked to the other side, and saw that Claire was just wrinkling her nose and rolling her eyes in disgust.

But now, the newlyweds were dashing down the aisle, though Dean had no idea how Renesbait was running in that dress. Showers of rice rained down from the aisles; Dean contemplated picking up the little white net bag tied with white ribbon and filled with white rice fastened to the back of the white chair in front of him and just nailing Jerkoff right in the eye. Once the happy couple had gone by, the bridal party followed, and Quil did not give Claire that soppy smile this time; he instead saved his gaze for Dean, staring blackly at him almost the entire walk down the aisle. Dean returned it with interest, and if that bastard didn't stop giving him that silent "_mine_" look, he was going to shoot him in the junk.

The music was kept mercifully short, and once the entire bridal party had left, it was time for the guests to file out. Dean stretched his arms over his head before rubbing his hands across his face, moaning in agony.

"God_damn_," he muttered through his fingers.

Sam had his eyes closed, shaking his head and obviously casting about for words. "That was…" he began, rubbing his temple.

"It was odd," Cas said in all seriousness. Dean and Sam glanced down at him as he stared contemplatively into nothing.

"'Odd' is _not_ the word I was looking for," Sam said delicately.

"It was _shit_." Dean and Sam both looked over in surprise to find that the whole event had been so neatly and completely summarized by Claire.

"Claire Young!"

She cringed at the sudden sound of a scolding voice, and Dean looked up to see two people who could only be her parents advancing, looking more than a little angry. "Don't you ever say that again, young lady!" said her mother sharply.

"Sorry, Mom," she muttered.

"And what were you doing sitting back here?" she was continuing. "You were supposed to sit up front with us!"

"I didn't want to," Claire retorted, and Dean did not miss the pointed look she gave her parents.

There was a brief but heavy pause. "Denise, it's all right," her father suddenly chimed in, and then looked over at the rest of them. "Leah, it's good to see you," he said, and he at least sounded sincere about it.

"Nice to see you too, Frank," Leah replied, managing to inject a little life into her voice. "And you too, Denise."

"Are these your guests?" Mrs. Young asked, gesturing to Dean and everyone else.

"Yeah," Leah said, pointing to each of them. "Dean and Sam Winchester, and Cas."

"Very nice to meet you," Mrs. Young said, glancing down the aisle and out at the crowd. "Claire, you need to come with us now—it's time to get in the receiving line."

"I wanna stay with Leah and her friends!" Claire whined.

"Claire," her mother said warningly.

Claire gave a very sulky, very teenaged sigh and grumpily rose to her feet. "_Fine_," she huffed. She turned back to the rest of them. "I'll see you later, Leah—and I had fun playing with you, Dean."

"Believe me," Dean said seriously, "if it hadn't been for you, I wouldn't have made it out of here alive."

Claire giggled and grinned, her cheeks a little red, and then she allowed herself to be carted away by her parents, only dragging her feet a little.

By then all the guests had cleared out, and they were the only ones still seated. Leah sighed and rose to her feet as Carlisle and the piano player—who had to be his wife, judging by how she was sticking to him like a sand burr—came strolling down the aisle, looking very self-satisfied.

"Hello, Leah," Carlisle said, all politeness.

"Carlisle, Esme," she nodded.

"I hope you enjoyed the ceremony," the chick—Esme, apparently—said, looking pointedly at Dean as they neared.

"It was everything I imagined and more," Leah said, and Dean was very impressed that her tone was only a little flat.

"I'm so glad," Esme simpered, her voice a study in maternal passivity.

"They will be very happy together," Carlisle said confidently. "Some people are just meant to be."

"Just like Edward and Bella," Esme gushed. "Oh, our family is so fortunate—all of us are matches made in Heaven."

Dean's grin was so fake there was no way he was fooling them, but it quickly turned into an expression of almost panicked dread when he heard Cas start talking. "Their hearts are not marked—" he started.

"Have you met my friends?" Leah suddenly said very loudly, cutting across his dialogue even as Dean turned around to try and shut the idiot up. Dean gave her a nod of gratitude before glaring at Cas, who looked confused (as usual).

Carlisle and Esme spared one last somewhat affronted glance at Cas before turning back to Leah. "No, but I have certainly heard all about them," Carlisle said, and his voice was not exactly approving. "You must be Dean Winchester."

Dean's mood was bad enough already. He didn't bother trying to smile, and didn't offer his hand. "Yeah, I'm Dean," he said stiffly.

"All of our friends are talking about you—and I can understand why," Esme said, her tone making it clear that Dean should be pleased about this. _Jump up my ass_, he growled to himself.

Esme beamed at him for a moment, and then looked at the other two. "And you are Sam, his brother?"

"Yeah," Sam replied, his voice clipped.

"And you are Castiel," Carlisle finished, giving Cas a curious look. Cas nodded once. "Jacob told me your full name. You are named after the angel of Thursday, I see," he went on wisely.

Cas stared steadily back, his brow creased a little. "No."

"No, not the angel, because he was named after his grandfather!" Dean said quickly. "He comes from a weird family; his dad is really into bizarre names like that."

"There is nothing bizarre about the names of angels," Carlisle informed them loftily before giving them an indulgent smile. "I'm afraid we must join the rest of the party. After you." He stepped back, gesturing.

Dean resignedly walked out and into the aisle, the others falling in line behind him. As Cas moved forward, Dean couldn't help but smirk when Carlisle and Esme both gave tiny gasps and recoiled as Cas passed by them without a second glance. _Way to rattle 'em, there, Cas_, Dean thought with no little satisfaction.

But it didn't last, because as he lead the way back out into the sunshine and to the end of the receiving line, and when he saw all the vamps watching him and all the wolves watching Sam, he knew that it was only halftime.

_Cas_, he thought wearily, _if you have a merciful bone in your skinny body, you'll just smite me now._

* * *

**Author's Note:** For anyone curious, the excerpt that Bella read was from John Donne's "The Anagram." Here's the passage they picked.

_If we might put the letters but one way,_

_In the lean dearth of words, what could we say?_

_When by the Gamut some Musicians make_

_A perfect song, others will undertake,_

_By the same Gamut changed, to equal it._

_Things simply good can never be unfit._

_She's fair as any, if all be like her,_

_And if none be, then she is singular._

_All love is wonder; if we justly do_

_Account her wonderful, why not lovely too?_

_Love built on beauty, soon as beauty, dies;_

_Choose this face, changed by no deformities._

_Women are all like angels; the fair be_

_Like those which fell to worse; but such as thee,_

_Like to good angels, nothing can impair._

Bella rather misinterpreted the meaning of the poem, hence Sam's facepalming. But Bella likes to misinterpret the classics, considering she was under the impression _Romeo and Juliet_ was a love story and never really went into how both of the protagonists of _Wuthering Heights_, supposedly one of her favorites, were cruel and unusual to each other and their romance was _not_ something to aspire to or something you want to compare your own romances to.

Also, for anybody interested, go check out my profile after this chapter; I provide a link to what the guestbook looked like after our four protagonists signed it. Not only that, but somebody liked a scene from this chapter so much they drew fanart of it! Check out both links if you like; thanks again for the lovely picture, Sylvacoer!

Oh, and just in case you assumed I just made the titles of those movies up, just look them up on IMDB. They're real.


	8. Snakeskin Cowboys

**Author's Note:** The chapter title and soundtrack is taken from the Ted Nugent song "Snakeskin Cowboys."

**Spoilers:** Spoilers for _Twilight_, _New Moon_, _Eclipse_, _Breaking Dawn_, and all six seasons of "Supernatural."

**Disclaimer: "Supernatural" is the property of Kripke Enterprises and Warner Bros. Television. The Twilight Saga is the property of Stephenie Meyer and Little, Brown and Co. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from this work.**

* * *

**Chapter 8 – Snakeskin Cowboys**

Their group wound up at the end of the receiving line; Carlisle and Esme, being family, got to cut up front. Dean had mixed feelings about his spot in line. On the one hand, he had no qualms about putting off the unpleasant prospect of actually _meeting_ Renesmee Carlie Cullen-Black for as long as possible. On the other hand, not only was the line inching along at an escargot's pace, but it was nowhere near the buffet table. Dean felt that was a serious flaw in this arrangement, in no small part because all of that prissy food he'd eaten had about as much substance as Chinese; tasted great, but he was already hungry again. He glanced longingly at the table, and he could see those spicy crab balls, and they were _mocking_ him, dammit, so close and yet so far.

He snapped his head forward when he heard a voice call out, "Hey, Leah!" and immediately tensed when a tall, rangy guy who could only be a wolf came loping over, grinning merrily.

However, he relaxed when Leah just smiled and threw an arm around his shoulders. "Hey, Embry," she returned warmly. Embry released her from his half-embrace, and bounced his eyebrows appreciatively at her figure.

"Man, you look hot," he said. "Nice dress."

Leah laughed. "Thanks." She lightly punched his shoulder. "Turns out you clean up pretty nice, too."

Embry snorted. "I'd rather be in shorts. These suits are itchy and uncomfortable." He glanced over at Sam. "Hey again, Sam," he said, holding out his hand.

Sam accepted it. "Hi, Embry."

Embry then turned to Dean, giving him a half-smile. "_You_ must be Dean. I'm Embry Call, Leah's packmate and arch nemesis on Xbox Live."

Leah rolled her eyes as Dean shook hands with the guy. "Try 'whipping boy'," she taunted.

"Oh, not for long," Embry said warningly. "I've been playing online with Claire lately since you haven't been around—I am now learning from a master."

"_That_ I buy," Dean threw in. "She just kicked my ass at tic-tac-toe."

They all laughed. "Well, I tremble in fear," Leah giggled. She then spotted Embry giving sidelong looks at Cas as he laughed, and so she tugged him forward a little. "Embry, this is Cas, Cas, Embry."

"Heard of you, too," Embry said, extending his hand, though a tad hesitantly. Cas took it, and while he held on for longer than a second, it was still brief, and Embry wiggled his hand a little when he was done. "Reckon everyone's whispering about you almost as much as him." He jerked his head in Dean's direction. "Not that I can tell what the big deal is about," he said, turning to Dean with a glint in his eye. "All I smell is your aftershave." Then he smirked a little. "If you want, though, I could talk about how it's the best aftershave in the world."

"You do that and I'll neuter you, Wolfman," Dean growled, and he was only half-joking.

Embry snickered, but held up his hands. "Sorry, sorry—just trying to lighten the mood." He smiled at Dean again before turning to Leah. "Anyway, I came over 'cause I was wondering if you got an Xbox or a Playstation yet—I've got all my new headset equipment and everything, so I can play at long-distance now."

"No, I haven't gotten anything like that," Leah sighed. "My job—the hours are pretty funky, and a lot of the times, I'm just damn tired afterwards. Plus, money is still a bit tight, and I don't have a permanent home or anywhere to set it up." She smiled. "But I'll see what I can do—I do miss trashing you."

"Hey, you don't beat me that bad," Embry protested. "Besides, just because you beat me at first-person shooters doesn't mean you win at all video games. When's the last time you won a puzzle game against me?"

"Look, the fact that you whipped my ass at Bejeweled hardly counts—are there headshots in Bejeweled? I don't think so. So the game is clearly invalid," she said loftily.

"Gonna have go to with her on that one, Embry," Dean said.

"Man, you both just dissed _Bejeweled_," Sam suddenly interjected, sounding betrayed. "You are no longer my brother," he said ponderously to Dean, "and that twenty bucks I gave you is now officially an IOU," he said, pointing at Leah.

"Try and get it from me," she mocked. "You and Embry can go play your sissy puzzle games. Dean and I will play what really matters—_Call of Duty_ and _Doom_."

"Damn straight," Dean said firmly, despite never having played either in his life, and high-fived Leah.

Embry just rolled his eyes, as did Sam. "So," Embry continued, "just what are these jobs that keep you from doing fine and wholesome things like killing zombies?"

Dean looked away, unable to keep from smirking. Leah kept her voice light as she and Embry idly chit-chatted about this and that, keeping their business vague as always. While they caught up, Dean peered down the line to see how much further they had to go. He was dismayed to see that the person who had been talking with Renesbait when Embry came up to them was still there. Maybe he'd misunderstood the point of a receiving line—he thought it was for people to come up, kiss the bride's ass _once_, and then move on and let the next person go. He hadn't been aware that it was apparently not ass-kissing but just straight-up _blowjobs_. _Holy crap, second time I've been dragged off by fairies to service their overlord._

Dean felt no need to interrupt Leah's conversation with Embry until he heard him mention that the reason he only played games online with Claire is because he hardly ever _saw_ the girl anymore, seeing as she never left her room these days except to go to school. At that point, he couldn't keep quiet. Turning around and keeping his voice low (even though he knew it was pointless), he asked, "Dude, what is up with that?"

Embry glanced over at him, his expression uneasy. "Claire won't play the games with Quil, so he…doesn't like her to play with anyone, I guess," he answered carefully.

Dean grimaced. "Do you have _any_ idea how sick that is?"

"I—I'm not in a real good position to say anything on it," Embry said uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.

"You don't need a _position_—" Dean began hotly.

"Dean," Leah said quietly, silencing him. She shook her head, her eyes closed. She opened them when she turned to Embry again. "It's okay, Embry. I understand—same boat, and all."

Dean folded his arms, glaring at the back of Quil's head far ahead of them in line—and right behind the Youngs, of course, so he could best sit there and pet Claire, the freak.

Dean suddenly heard a voice calling Embry's name. Embry looked up, then gave a lopsided smile to their group. "That's my mom—she's probably up next at bat and didn't want to wish the happy couple congratulations without me," he said wryly. He gave Leah another manly half-hug, and then shook Dean and Sam's hands. "Nice to see you again, and nice meeting you guys." He seemed to steel himself, but then stuck out his hand again for Cas. "Nice to meet you too," he said firmly. Cas shook his hand once, and then Embry left, zipping up the line all the way to the front with his mother.

Dean turned to face Leah again, who seemed a little more cheerful. "Well—nice to see someone friendly for a change," he said.

Leah snorted. "Embry's nice. We started hanging out about a year after I joined the pack." Her mouth twisted a little. "Mostly out of sheer loneliness. Apparently, imprinting isn't as rare as everyone liked to make it out to be, and since he was just about the only other one who didn't, nobody really had any time for him anymore. And nobody _ever_ had any time for me, so we just kinda got thrown together." She frowned. "He always was the least…_vocal_ when it came to me being in the pack, I guess," she continued, sounding a little guilty. "Once we both apologized for all the nasty stuff we said to and about each other, we just sorta bonded over bad movies and _Quake_."

They lapsed into silence, the line inching forward. It had actually gotten worse, because while the line might not have been alongside the food, it _was_ right by the cake, which was no longer flanked by the chocolate fountains and fruit. So here Dean was right next to a regular gold mine of sugar and he couldn't eat it.

Well, maybe gold mine wasn't a proper description. More like the Mount Doom of Sugar. The cake was a giant, elaborate, five-tier, four-foot-tall thing with smaller tiers descending all down the sides, and Dean was so surprised he nearly fainted when it turned out to be entirely white. White icing, white columns, white ribbon, white sugar-flowers, white topper—did all the other colors personally insult these people, that why they refused to invite them? Dean badly wanted to reach over and get a finger-full of icing, and not just because he was hungry, but he knew Leah would smack him before he got within six inches of it. His stomach growled restlessly at him as they moved forward again and he now was stuck next to the groom's cake, a two-tier chocolate cake covered in perfectly molded chocolate leaves.

Dean glanced furtively back at Leah, who had her back to him as she talked with Cas (were they seriously talking about video games again? Would she _ever_ get tired of trying to explain it to him?). Once he deemed it safe, he reached out and quickly snatched one of the leaves from the cake and stuffed it in his mouth. It was delicious, of course, and turned out to be a mistake, because it just made him hungrier. He looked once more back at the buffet table—he wanted some more of that meat Jell-O.

"Oh boy," he heard Leah mutter. "Here comes my brother."

Dean looked up to see that kid who'd walked down the aisle with the blonde vamp coming towards them. Well, this had to be Seth, then—and Dean did not miss how he'd looked far more excited participating in the wedding than he did at the prospect of talking to his sister.

"Hey, Leah," he said, not sounding all that interested. "Mom said I should come over and say hi."

"I'm so glad to see you, too," Leah returned snidely. She raised her hand to introduce them to Seth, but he didn't wait around for that. Instead, he just focused on Sam, his arms crossed.

"So—you Leah's new boyfriend?" he demanded bluntly.

Dean's jaw dropped a little, while Sam's just clenched in anger.

"_No_," Leah cut in sharply, and a little loudly. "He is _not_ my boyfriend. I don't _have_ a boyfriend."

Dean couldn't help the thought—_Right, because angels don't count._ He wondered briefly if you even _could_ date an angel, but he didn't have time to contemplate it, because Seth was talking again.

"So, uh—what've you been doing?" Oh, and he sounded _so_ interested, too.

"Odd security jobs and living in caves," Leah tersely replied. "And you?"

Seth's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Well, I certainly haven't been living in _caves_!"

And then he was off, talking about how Jacob was the best Alpha in the world and Edward Cullen was the best vampire in the world and how he got to use his wolf status as an excuse to not go to school anymore and how he'd been hanging out with all of the Cullens and how they were so generous with their cars and money and how Edward made him Renesmee's godfather and how much fun he had with that and wasn't this all awesome and all the neat and high-class stuff he got to do now that he was best friends with the Cullens and Jacob was so awesome because he lets them do whatever they want because that is surely a good sign of an Alpha and he didn't seem to notice that Dean's eyes were glazing over, because this rambling, repetitive, dick-sucking monologue was making his brain try to crawl out of his ear.

"—and Jacob says that now that he's part of the family he can buy houses for _all_ of us, so Jennie and I will have an _awesome_ house when we finally settle down and get married! I mean, he is even buying me a car! I always knew he'd be a great Alpha, nobody believed me when I said he would be. Who are your other two friends, anyway?"

Dean blinked rather stupidly, almost missing the fact that he'd suddenly been brought into the conversation. Leah seemed to do the same thing, shaking herself and then waving a tired hand at Dean. "This is Dean, Sam's brother."

Dean just nodded—he had no desire to shake Seth's hand.

"And this is Cas," Leah added.

Seth eyed him, as all of the monsters here did when they got too close. "So what's your deal?" he asked suspiciously.

Dean tensed.

"I…have no deal," Cas replied, sounding a little confused.

"No, I mean—" Seth crossed his arms. "What _are_ you?"

Dean gave a sidelong glance down the line—it was more than obvious that all of the monsters in earshot had heard Seth ask _that_ question and were most eager to hear the answer. A few were even blatantly staring as they hoped to hear the mystery revealed.

Cas just looked at Seth, his brow furrowing slightly. "I am…" he looked at Leah, and then back at Seth, "…her date," he finished, looking over to Dean as if for approval.

He sighed with relief—good, their little talk they had earlier had stuck. Knowing Cas, Dean had been half-afraid that the angel would have some kind of crisis of conscience about lying when someone asked what in the hell he was and would accidentally just blurt it out.

Seth looked like he was about to demand an explanation. Fortunately, Leah sensed this too and quickly said, "Well, it was nice seeing you, Seth."

Seth glommed onto that quickly as a way of escaping, his clear desire to be away from Leah winning out over his curiosity as to what her friend was. "Yeah, you too," he said carelessly, and then dashed off to go find a table.

Dean watched him go in disgust, and contemplated giving Leah a manly and reassuring clap on the shoulder. He ultimately decided against it, because Seth had spent so much time talking that the line had moved forward so that they were now standing by the wedding gifts, and the ones placed in a prominent position in the front distracted him nicely from what had just happened.

Each gift was clearly labeled, so you could tell exactly who had given it. The edges of the table were filled with a smattering of nice but entirely useless gifts; he didn't think he saw one single appliance among the lot of them, just a bunch of decorations and jewelry and figurines—in other words, a bunch of crap. However, they weren't given a lot of attention. The focus was clearly supposed to be on the center—on the gifts from the _vampires_.

Well, granny and gramps had certainly been generous—there was a key with a fancy bow wrapped around it right next to a framed picture of a two-story house with a perfectly manicured lawn and flowers and trees and chirping birds all around it. It was so quaint Dean wanted to heave. Beside that, though, was _daddy's_ gift, yet another key wrapped in a bow. The picture beside it was of a butt-ugly car, but Dean knew exactly what kind it was, so looks were not important. That was a Bugatti Veyron, and in Dean's humble opinion, it could kiss his ass—it was _nothing_ compared to his baby. While there was plenty of jewelry around the table, nothing was so grand as the two displays in the center—one was from Mommy Dearest, a gaudy and glittering display of tiny sapphires and diamonds in silver draped beneath a gold, engraved placard that read, "More than my own life." Jesus, was that her catchphrase or something? The necklace next to it, however, was much simpler but much tackier, with five smooth and _massive_ emeralds on it with a note that was signed "Aro of the Volturi."

_Oh, what the _fuck_?_ Dean thought furiously to himself. Leah had told them about Aro and the Volturi—that guy and his little club tried to _kill_ the Cullens ten years ago! And here they were accepting gifts from the bastard? Oh, guess we only hate them unless they send friggin' _jewels_.

Shaking his head in disgust, he saw that Alice and some guy named Jasper had given them both an all-expenses-paid trip to a Paris fashion show to pick out an all-new and custom-designed wardrobe, as well as a note that she should consider those as part of her life now, promising that she'd get all the fashionable clothes she needed for the rest of her life, i.e., eternity. Judging by what these people thought was fashionable, Renesbait was basically in for an eternity of looking like an expensive hooker. Some people named Emmett and Rosalie had given them a massive and no doubt expensive set of electronics. TV, radio, sound system, the whole works. And finally, being used as a backdrop for the whole shmear, was a painting framed in gold, apparently from "The Denalis," whoever they were.

Didn't anybody think to just give them a blender or something?

Dean turned around to find Sam staring rather intently at the painting, his expression one of combined recognition and disbelief. Leah was completely ignoring the gifts, just staring straight ahead, her arms folded with the air of someone who was used to this. The idea that someone would have seen shit like this often enough to be _used to it_ was one of the worst ideas he'd ever had.

The line was moving quicker now—he guessed it was because all of the vampires had shoved their way to the front of the line, leaving the werewolves and humans to bring up the rear, the dicks. Well, he wasn't complaining—the sooner they got through the line, the sooner he could eat. They eventually left the gifts behind and, after Leah slid her arm through Cas's and held him firmly at her side, were standing in front of the first members of the wedding party.

Dean was not sorry to see Charlie again. "Hey, Chief!" he said, wringing his fingers. "Good to see you again, and, uh—congrats on…all this."

Charlie seemed to know exactly what he meant, but he kept his commentary to, "Yeah—ran a bit long, though, don't you think?"

"Just a little," Sam said mildly.

"And Cas, good to see you're still standing—should ease up on the booze, son," he said, giving Cas a friendly but somewhat stern smile; Cas just looked back at him, a bit blankly. Charlie turned back at Dean, who felt that his smile had gone a little frozen. "I brought this boy a beer, and he tosses it back all in one gulp, never even taking a breath," he told them.

"He's got a high tolerance," Leah threw in. She smiled, leaning against Cas a little. "How many shots did you do in a row back at that bar in Mississippi? You know, when we won three grand off that bunch of rednecks?"

"Twenty-seven," Cas answered.

Charlie's eyes popped. "Good night, son, why aren't you dead?" he gawped.

"Like she said," Dean quickly said across Cas, who he just knew was about to either explain _why_ he could take it or that he already _had_ been dead—twice, "high tolerance."

Charlie clearly wasn't buying it, but he didn't press the issue because his wife was stepping up.

"Congratulations to you too, Mrs. Swan," Sam said politely; Dean just nodded in agreement and said nothing—he remembered their last conversation with this old battleaxe.

Sue thanked them before turning to Leah. "You really should've sat up with us, Leah—spend time with family."

"Well, these three wanted to sit in the back," Leah explained patiently.

"An hour away from them wouldn't have hurt," Sue said, and Dean saw Leah's jaw tighten, as did her arm through Cas's even as Sue flicked her eyes to Sam.

"Hey, blame us," Dean suddenly said, and Sue's attention snapped to him. "We wouldn't stop begging her to not abandon us to the wolves." He gave her his most charming grin.

Sue just pursed her lips for a moment, but then gave a small, chilly smile as Leah shunted them further down the line. Next up was a big guy in a wheelchair.

"Hello, Billy," Leah said politely. "Congratulations on your new daughter-in-law."

"Oh, hi, Leah," Billy said, looking up at her. "Didn't know you were here."

She gave a thin smile. "Jacob invited me."

"Nice of him," Billy said breezily. "These your guests?"

Leah nodded and introduced all three of them to the groom's father. Dean and Sam just offered up the same bland congratulations they'd been giving while Cas said nothing at all, and then they moved down the line again to meet the parents of the bride for a second time.

Once again, Edward got that pinched, pissy look when confronted with their crew, but Dean noticed that now his wife had a similar expression as they came to stand in front of them. "Hello again, Leah, gentlemen," Edward said stiffly. His eyes narrowed, and he seemed to be trying to make himself look even taller as he stared down at Dean. "I hope you enjoyed the ceremony?"

Ah. Dean couldn't help it—he smirked. "It was wonderful," he said, and then, as with most wisecracks that were dangerous to his health, "I just _loved_ the songs!" fell right out of his mouth before he could stop it.

Bella and Edward were clearly not pleased by the lack of deference from a plebe like himself, the bitches. He just jutted his chin at them as Sam managed his generic congratulations and compliments (which were so scripted Dean wondered just how stupid these people were that they were falling for it). Leah did the same, and then Edward and Bella glared stonily at Cas—who was staring out at the rest of the guests at the moment and paying zero attention to them.

"And what did _you_ think of everything, Castiel?" Edward said pompously, almost challengingly.

Cas didn't tear his gaze away from whatever he was looking at. "I have no opinion on the mating rituals of—"

"He thought it was great," Sam blurted.

"He loved the flowers," Dean added. And then he reached out and yanked Cas forward and away from Bella and Edward, inadvertently dragging Leah with him.

"Dude, you've gotta stop that or friggin' learn how to lie!" Dean hissed as Cas looked confusedly at him.

"Oh, shut up, Dean," Leah groused. Dean opened his mouth to protest, but then Sam stepped on his foot, his expression pulled into a pleasant smile. Dean stared for a moment, and then realized just what was going on. He faced forward again, and then, steeling himself, led the way to meet the newlyweds.

Renesbait's skirts seemed to have lost a few layers, so she no longer resembled a Sno Ball. However, seeing her up close was so much worse than just seeing her at a distance. While she wasn't nearly as plastic and rigid as the vamps, she was definitely the most vapid and self-satisfied of the bunch. Her rosy cheeks, wide eyes, perfect hair, and deep red, pouty lips gave her the look of a beautiful and young china doll, all pretty and ready for Jacob to play with. She was beaming at anyone who would look at her, clinging to Jacob's side as she waited patiently for everyone to come up and pay their respects. She turned away from the people she was thanking for their compliments, and her big, dewy brown eyes settled on Dean.

"Oh! I don't remember inviting you," she said with ersatz surprise.

"He's with me, Renesmee," Leah said, disengaging her arm from Cas's and angling so she was in front of them. "These are my friends, the ones I was telling you about." Dean saw her force herself to smile. "Congratulations, Renesmee."

"Oh, thank you so much, Lee-lee!" she tittered, leaning on Jacob, who was grinning like an idiot but somehow managing to give a stern glare to Leah at the same time.

She didn't miss it, taking a breath and adding, "Your dress is nice."

"Thank you," Renesbait simpered. "I still say you should've worn the one we bought you—it was so nice! Orange really would suit you—and then you would have matched all the rest of the Quileute women!"

"I know, and I really did—_do_ appreciate it," Leah insisted. "But like I said, my dress was a gift from these guys."

"Oh, yes, your friends—it's so wonderful you managed find some, Leah, and it was so nice of you to bring them as your dates! Did they help choose the dress as well?"

Leah's smile was a bit strained, but she somehow kept it plastered on her face. "No, they just bought it."

Renesmee brushed off the answer, turning to face them. "Just from the talk I've heard about you three I'll bet I can name you. You must be Dean Winchester," she said smugly.

"Uh, yeah," Dean said, keeping his eyes firmly on her face and away from the acres of exposed flesh below her neck.

"I can tell—my sense of smell isn't as good as a real vampire's, but you are positively _delicious_."

Dean bristled, glaring at her and beyond caring that Jacob gave him a threatening look for it. "So everybody tells me," he growled.

His tone just bounced off her empty skull. "It's because you are," she said simply, and then turned to his brother. "So you are his brother, Sam Winchester, and then you must be Castiel, who everyone is calling Cas!" She giggled as if she thought she was clever.

"It was really nice of you to let us attend," Sam lied through his teeth.

Renesbait fluttered. "Oh, I love big gatherings—you were surprise guests, I admit, and not the most conventional, given the company here, but you are very welcome."

Renesbait stopped talking, just smiling brightly at them, but nobody else was talking, either. After two seconds of this, Dean suddenly realized that she was waiting for them to compliment her again. _Well, shit._ Dean glanced over at Sam, who was looking back at the gifts—that seemed as good a place as any to start. "You, ah, have an impressive haul there," he said.

"It's nothing," Renesbait said airily.

"I wouldn't say that," Sam threw in while Dean just stared incredulously at the silver-spooned skank. "That's an impressive piece of artwork." Sam was obviously hedging. "It, uh—it looks like one of the Dutch Masters."

Renesbait brainlessly giggled again while Jacob chuckled condescendingly. "Well, it makes sense that it would be—because it's an original Rembrandt. Tanya's family gave that to us. They've had it in their family for quite a long time."

Sam's jaw dropped. "You—that's a lost _Rembrandt_?" he stuttered.

"Oh yes," Renesbait went on, looking quite pleased with Sam's reaction. Dean, however, knew his brother, and knew that particular look of stunned disbelief was not one of "Ooh, aah, I'm so impressed with the fruity painting."

Sam seemed to be collecting himself. "And…you have it…just…_sitting_ out here—sitting outside—on the _beach_?" he said slowly.

Jacob answered him, his tone affronted. "Of course we do," he said. "What, did you expect us to not show what everyone got us? That's a nice picture."

Sam stared blankly at him for a moment. "Well—all right, then," he said, sounding almost dazed.

"Um, on the subject of presents," Leah suddenly chimed in, and Dean saw that Jacob was giving her another severe look, "I, ah, I'm sorry I didn't get you anything—"

Renesbait just laughed—_again._ "Oh, Leah, don't worry about it—I understand. You wouldn't really know what to get me anyway, and besides, what do you get the girl who pretty much already has everything?" She glanced lovingly down at the set of keys and the deed on the table. "Anyway, truth be told, it's like I said—the gifts are nice, but ultimately just little pleasures. So long as I have my Jacob, I'll be perfectly happy!" The smug, condescending smile she gave was clearly supposed to be taken as one of understanding and generosity. "So you don't need to worry about not being able to afford anything."

Dean was truly amazed. He'd thought the only woman he'd ever want to pull back and punch in the mouth was Bela Talbot.

"Well, I hope you all enjoyed the ceremony," Jacob said, and Dean saw he was staring at Leah…_expectantly_. Dean raised an eyebrow. Was he…_prompting_—

"Yes," Leah said automatically. "It was just perfect for you two."

"I didn't even know about the rose petals," Renesmee gushed. "Jacob says that was his idea—who says men don't have good ideas when it comes to wedding plans! Oh, Jacob, that really was perfect—it really was just like _heaven_, wasn't it?"

Dean was too stunned by this speech to see the oncoming disaster—Sam and Dean had sucked up, but Cas had not, and so that last remark had been deliberately addressed to him.

Cas's brows knitted. "No, it was nothing like Heaven," he said seriously.

And _that_ spurred Dean forward and out of his stupor. _Dammit, Cas!_ "Ah! Yeah, uh—sorry!" Renesbait's sudden shocked and displeased look landed on him. "He, uh—he takes things _way_ too literally—bit of a fundie—English isn't his first language, either, you know—and he has _no_ social skills, never even been to a birthday party—"

"Congratulations again, Renesmee, Jacob," Leah said loudly, and both she and Sam hustled Cas away from the now scowling couple. Well, even though they'd been unable to completely dodge that bullet, Dean was grateful—at least Cas had managed to get them out of the receiving line.

They found a table that was toward the back and away from everyone else, even though it did have a bit of a disadvantage—it was nowhere near the food. Dean drummed his fingers on the back of his chair, and then didn't bother sitting down, instead excusing himself to go grab another plate before they cut the cake, because he had every intention of hitting that, and _hard_. He ignored all of the looks he was now getting used to from the vamps, heading straight for the buffet.

He was piling some shrimp onto his plate when an unpleasantly silky voice behind him said, "Oh, hello again, Dean."

He congratulated himself on not jumping—whatever else he thought about these vamps, they were good at sneaking up on people. He dropped one last shrimp on his plate and looked behind him, giving the vamp a death glare and a half. "Hello again, _Randall_," he spat. "And _goodbye_ again, Randall."

"There's no need to be so rude," Randall said airily, following him as he went down the line of food. "I was hoping to catch you alone—we had such a bad first meeting. I wanted to apologize—your scent just caught me rather off guard, is all."

"Well, whoop-de-damn-do," Dean growled, tossing some crab balls onto his plate before scooping up a generous helping of meat Jell-O. Randall was way too close—they were _always_ too close—but he knew there was nothing he could say or do to get the douchenozzle away from him, and he just _knew_ the guy was sitting there huffing him like glue. "Congratulations, you apologized. Now what the hell do you want?"

Randall was not put off. "I…just wanted to talk," he said calmly. "I was wondering where you and your brother were from."

"Kansas," Dean spat.

"Oh? Does your family still live there?"

Dean ground his teeth together, leveling a searing glare at the leech. "I don't have much by way of family, not that it's any of your business."

"I'm terribly sorry," he said, not a bit sincere. "So…it is just you and your brother, then." He tapped his chin with one long finger, giving Dean a look that made his skin crawl. "Do you always travel with the wolf and…that other fellow?"

Dean closed his eyes, taking a deep breath through his nose. "Dude," he ground out, opening his eyes again, "go stick your nose up somebody else's ass, 'cause it ain't gettin' me off." And with that, he stomped off, unable to tell if the guy was following him or not, but more than ready to tell Cas to send the bastard packing if he did.

When Dean flumped back into his seat, he was glad to see that the sorry little ass-magnet hadn't followed him, though Cas was watching the vamp with narrowed eyes.

"What'd he want?" Sam asked.

"Same thing all the other freaks want," Dean growled in reply. He picked up the tiny gay fork he was being forced to eat with and dug in, the mostly-decent taste of the food almost making up for how stuck-up it was as he shoved a tiny cheese and onion pie into his mouth.

"Thought you drew the line at bugs," Sam said, pointing at the nasty black pile of slime on the side of his plate.

"I do," Dean replied, swallowing and then going for a crab ball. "I didn't bring it for me." He picked up one of the extra napkins he'd grabbed and gingerly pushed the gross thing onto it with the end his fork, and then shoved the whole mess at Cas. "Here—eat this."

Cas looked down at the slug, contemplating it like he did shots of whiskey, and Dean smirked when the angel just obediently picked it up with his fingers and ate it whole.

"That really a smart thing to do?" Leah asked wryly. "If he decides he likes it, he may eat 'em all."

"And good riddance to 'em, get rid of that sick crap," Dean declared. "So whether he loves it or hates it, I win."

Cas chewed slowly and swallowed. Tilting his head to one side, looking thoughtful, he almost ruined Dean's enjoyment by saying, "Strange texture," and God, he was gonna puke. But then Cas simply wiped his greasy fingers on the tablecloth (good boy) and said, "But I enjoyed the cheeseburgers more."

Leah and Sam chuckled, and then Sam reached across the table for Dean's plate. Dean protested loudly when Sam snagged one of his spicy fish-chips. "Hey! I didn't say you could have that!"

"Oh, get off it, Dean," Sam said, rolling his eyes and popping it in his mouth. "You have plenty to spare."

"No, I don't!" Dean retorted. "This is comfort food, dammit, and I need all of that I can get!"

"Stop being such a whiner," Sam returned snippily.

Dean was about to reply when Renesbait's voice sliced through the air and right into his brain. "Everyone, it's time for the bouquet toss!" she squealed. "But the rules are going to be a little different! Would all eligible ladies come forward, please?"

Dean heard Leah audibly sigh, and then she uncrossed her legs and rose.

"Oh, you're not seriously gonna do that," Dean muttered as she passed.

She looked at him, and then up to where Dean saw Jerkoff standing, and he was watching her with crossed arms and heavy brows. Leah turned back and just shrugged before walking forward with the small handful of women and girls that had gathered. Leah went straight over to stand by Claire, who hugged her when she saw her.

"Now," Renesbait began prissily, "considering that _some_ of us here have a bit of an unfair advantage, we won't have any diving or fighting for my bouquet." She smiled widely. "So, will everyone just spread apart, find a good place to stand, and whoever the bouquet lands closest to wins!" She made a shooing gesture with her free hand, and everyone spaced themselves evenly as per her instructions.

Once everyone was assembled, she turned her back on the masses, counted to three, and then hurled that ridiculously huge pile of flowers high into the air. It arced beautifully and as it began to descend, Dean knew exactly where it was headed moments before it all but landed right on Leah's head.

There was a pause so uncomfortable that it nearly made him sweat, but then everyone broke into stilted applause and cheers. Renesbait twirled around, and Dean half-expected a tantrum at the lackluster response. However, she surprised him by clapping her hands tightly together and laughing. "Oh, Leah! You got it! That's _wonderful_! Maybe love is just around the corner for you after all!" She turned her bright eyes to Jacob. "Maybe even an imprint!"

Dean swore he could hear the delicate stems of the flowers crunching even from where he was sitting. Leah's hands were buried deep in the bouquet as she stiffly thanked everyone for their congratulations before walking back to their table—well, it was less of a walk and more of a stalk. Dean could tell she was resisting the urge to throw the bouquet on the floor, but instead set it down very deliberately beside her chair and folded her hands tightly in front of her. Sam patted her arm reassuringly, and Dean generously offered her a stuffed pepper, which she ate.

Garter toss was up next—Renesbait beckoned Jacob in what was probably supposed to be a sexy way, but because of the slight age discrepancy was just gross. It got worse when she hiked up her skirts to show off her fishnet-clad legs, and then Jacob went prospecting, all but climbing under there to grab it off her thigh. Once he'd removed it, all of the bachelors were called up to the front. Dean and Sam took one look at each other and then resolutely remained in their seats. There was no way in hell anyone was gonna make them get up and play along.

Jacob didn't care enough except to give them a tiny frown, then proceeded with the toss. Up it went, down it came—a foot away from Quil. This time the cheers were honest, and Dean viciously stabbed his lobster tail when that fucking pervert twirled it on his finger as he walked back to the table where the Youngs were sitting, plopping himself right next to Claire and giving her a hug. Claire looked miserable and angry, while her parents were obviously disapproving but could clearly do nothing about it.

That was it—he knew this was a recon mission, and he knew they were mostly supposed to be scouting the red-eyed vamps to be taken care of later, but Quil was officially at the top of Dean's list of things-to-be-obliterated-off-the-face-of-the-earth.

Dean finished his plate just as they announced it was time to cut the cake—good timing on his part, then. The happy couple sliced the large bottom tier together, and while Jacob daintily fed his wife a tiny piece, she did not return the favor and instead thought it would be funny to just shove it in his face. Dean didn't really care about the cake-smearing itself; he cared more that Renesbait didn't get it right in the kisser, too. Sam just looked vaguely disgusted, while Leah once again looked resigned like she had seen it all before. Now that was starting to freak him out—just how much crap _was_ she used to from these people?

Once it was announced that everyone could come up and serve themselves, Dean was up like a shot—no way he was gonna wait around and let everyone else take the best pieces. He was first in line this time, snatching up a plate and seizing the fancy gold knife and server nearby. He hacked a large slab of white cake and threw it onto his plate, and then moved on to the tastier-looking groom's cake.

"Fond of cake?"

Dean glanced up at the sound of Jacob's voice, thick with disapproval. Dean thrust his chin out at him. "Actually, I'm a pie man," he responded coolly.

"Then why do you need all the cake?" Jacob said immediately, and the dickcheese actually had the nerve to look triumphant.

Dean gave him a flippant smile. "'Cause it's there," he replied lightly, and then marched back to his table with his massive pile of cake and frosting.

He grudgingly allowed Leah and Sam to dip into his cake, but point-blank refused to offer any to Cas. He just knew that the angel would go coo-coo for cocoa-puffs at the slightest taste of chocolate, and Dean wasn't interesting in sharing with the guy who had no idea what restraint was.

The cake was damn good, of course, even though it had way too much of that pasty sugary crap over the frosting. It didn't take him long to finish it, given that Leah and Sam were helping him eat it.

"Mm—you know, I really haven't eaten much at all today," Leah said, contemplating the buffet. "Think I'll go make myself a plate."

"You got the right idea—mind if I join you?" Sam added, getting up with her.

"Grab me something while you're up there," Dean ordered.

"I'll get you a _beer_," Sam said firmly, and then walked off before he could protest.

"Hmph." Dean tossed his fork and napkin onto his empty plates, pushing them away from him and towards the center. He was tempted to get up and grab some more food just to spite Sam, but decided against it when he saw Cas was doing that Angelic Surveillance thing again.

"So," Dean started, "we all know it's nothing like Heaven, but what do you really think of all this crap?"

Cas was still staring out at the crowd. "I don't like the vampires," he said quietly.

"Buddy, you're not the only one," Dean groused.

"They aren't fond of me, either," he added, finally turning to face him. "Particularly Edward Cullen. He seems to be aware that I am…" He paused, and he was obviously trying to think up some subtle way to put whatever he was gonna say. "…interfering with his…reception."

Dean smirked. "Ah—so he knows you're the disturbance in his Force. Awesome."

Cas looked back out over the crowd. "His mate seems to be the exception among the vampires, in that she is strangely hostile towards you." Dean raised his eyebrows. "Bella Cullen seems resentful of the attention you are receiving from the others of her kind," Cas continued.

Dean blinked. "Well, if it makes her feel any better, _I'm_ resentful of the attention I'm getting from her kind!" he snarled.

Leah and Sam came back shortly after that, Sam setting the promised beer in front of him, and Dean was disgusted to see his brother had brought some escargot, too. He was only eating it to gross him out, Dean just knew it, and was now trying to get Leah in on the fun, goading her into tasting it.

"Sorry, Sam—I think Dean has the right idea there," Leah said, declining the offer.

"After what you told me you eat while you're wolfed out?" Sam said incredulously.

"Just because I do eat it when I'm a wolf doesn't mean I like it," Leah replied, her voice dry.

Dean nodded approvingly and raised his glass to her, glad to have a shade of the Leah he knew back—he was sick of the demure, meek, "abuse me, please" Leah he'd been introduced to since arriving at this three-ring circus of pain.

He had polished off his beer and was contemplating another when the start of the dancing was announced. _Great_, he thought grumpily, _now I have to wait to get a refill._ The newlyweds had pranced out to the center of the floor after announcing their song, and Dean gagged when a whiny piece of modern pop-crap started playing, and Jacob and Renesbait started doing some ridiculous dance that looked like it came out of some kind of period drama set a hundred years ago. Dean really didn't care much about the dance—but, good _God_, that music should be salted and burned, and preferably with all of the jackasses who seemed to think it was _good_. Was there not a _single person here_ who had any taste?

Dean waited impatiently for the song to end, hoping that maybe the next one would be better. It wasn't, of course, though he did recognize the band this time. He watched as people got up to dance—nearly all vampires—and they began twirling all over the place. These people were idiots—why the hell were they dancing _waltzes_ to friggin' _Muse_? The only thing that made the shitfest bearable was the fact that Quil had tried to coax Claire out on the dance floor and had been soundly (and loudly) rebuffed.

He shook his head, reaching across the table and stealing a swig of Leah's beer. As he leaned back into his chair, he saw the very unwelcome sight of Emily Uley walking across the floor and over to their table.

"Hello, Leah," Emily said breathily, and then, without asking, just grabbed a chair from a neighboring table and made herself at home. "Isn't this a lovely arrangement?"

"Oh, yes, it's marvelous," Leah replied tiredly.

Dean leaned his head into his hand, looking away from Emily and trying to tune out her voice, and as he looked to the side, he saw her husband slinking around through the crowds and circling their table like some kind of creeping shark. _Well, isn't _that_ just normal and healthy. Stalk your wife! Fun times_, he thought.

Emily was still babbling. "And you caught the bouquet!" she exclaimed. "Congratulations on that!"

"I didn't exactly _catch_ it," Leah said.

"Oh, nonsense, you caught it and that's that," Emily said with a wave of her hand. "Do you have anyone _special_ in mind?"

Leah's gaze went hard. "No," she said flatly.

Emily ignored the rather hostile expressions she was getting from three members of the table. "Well, you should have _someone_," she started. "I mean, you've been alone for far too long—a good man would be the best thing for you! And you could stop running off so much—you could settle down back in La Push, and be with your family."

"My job doesn't really allow me the luxury of meeting many guys, Emily," Leah explained, and in a much politer fashion than Dean thought Emily deserved.

"Then why not find a new job?" Emily hedged. "Move away from the old and get something new!"

Dean was about to open his mouth and ask just how the hell moving _back_ to La Push somehow constituted _new_, when up walked Leah's mother. Leah took one look at her mother's face, glanced back at Emily, and then turned with a decidedly brittle smile to face Dean, Sam, and Cas.

"Why don't you boys go mingle?" she said through clenched teeth. "I think I'm gonna catch up with my mom and cousin. Have a little girl-time."

Sam was looking vaguely alarmed, but got up anyway. "Uh, okay—just, uh—call us if you need anything, right?" he said.

"I will," Leah replied, turning back to her relatives.

Sam gave her shoulder a quick squeeze, and Dean decided it was very fortunate he hadn't had time to get a new beer; otherwise, he would've dumped it on those two bitches' heads for the pointed looks they gave Leah for that simple, reassuring motion.

The three of them cruised off, Dean leading the way in the direction of the buffet table.

"That can't be good," Sam muttered, glancing back over his shoulder at the three women.

"What do they care, anyway?" Dean retorted. "I mean, they act like they can have it both ways, totally dumping on her one minute and then acting all concerned the next."

"Pfft—I wouldn't call that _concern_," Sam said nastily. "I'd call it—"

He stopped, and Dean looked up to see that Sam had gone quiet and wary, staring behind Dean. Dean turned around—and came face-to-face with a pair of vampires.

Dean recognized one of them immediately—it was Alice, and she was looking a tiny bit irritated. The one who had Sam's attention, however, was the guy she had been dancing with.

The blond was staring right at him, his eyes wide and dark, and he wasn't bothering to hide the fact that he was sniffing the air around him. His hands were clenched into fists, and his gaze was distinctly predatory as he leaned forward and was almost preparing to crouch, as if to spring.

Dean knew exactly what that turd was doing. "Snap out of it, you dick!" he barked.

The guy blinked, and his lip curled a little. He was about to speak when he abruptly shut his mouth; Cas had just taken a step forward to stand right beside Dean, and Dean sincerely hoped Cas was giving him a nice dose of angelic shock therapy.

"Don't get so mad," Alice scolded him. "He sometimes has trouble around particularly potent humans."

"That is not my problem," Dean growled.

Alice pursed her lips, but then decided to change the subject. "This is Jasper, my husband. Jasper, these are the humans Leah brought with her—and the ones who apparently bought that dress for her." She rolled her eyes a little. "Dean and Sam Winchester and Castiel."

"Pleasure to meet you," Jasper said, his eyes still trained on Dean.

"Ah, so you've finally met him!"

Dean nearly groaned. Two more vampires had just appeared out of nowhere, coming up from behind Jasper. "Jasper, do introduce us," the female of the two purred.

"Dean Winchester," Jasper said, and Dean firmly crossed his arms to make it clear he was _not_ shaking hands.

"I'm Peter, and this is Charlotte. We're Jasper's oldest friends," the dude said, looking just as, well, as _hungry_ as Jasper did as he stared at him with eyes that were, despite being dark, clearly red.

"He has nice taste in friends," Sam said coldly.

"Thank you," Charlotte said offhandedly, not even looking at Sam. "Jasper, everyone is talking about him—"

"Yes, I know—I was wondering what it was all about. Now that I'm next to him, I _know_ what it's all about. He smells ten times more delicious than Bella did as a human," Jasper said.

Peter nodded, and continued as if Dean wasn't standing a foot away from time. "I must say, your family's cautionary words about eating before we came were certainly well-placed. I doubt anybody here could have possibly resisted him had we not—"

Peter's mouth snapped shut and his eyes widened. The other three did the same, and then stepped back, looking shocked and almost…scared. Dean furrowed his brow, his confusion warring with his fury at what that _monster_ had just said—and then he looked to his right.

Cas hadn't moved, but he knew that look—Cas had just whipped out the Angry Eyes, the ones he usually reserved for when he was dealing with demons and other abominations, as he put it. Dean turned back to the vamps, and was viciously pleased when Peter and Charlotte excused themselves rather hastily with a mumbled "nice to meet you," retreating back into the crowds, Cas glaring at them the whole time.

A very awkward silence followed, until Alice decided to break it. "So—do any of you boys plan on dancing?" she asked, her voice a little higher than before.

"Not really," Sam said as Dean shook his head.

"Well, feel free to change your minds!" Alice trilled. "There are plenty of spare humans." She looked up at Jasper, who was _still_ staring at Dean, and Dean stared fiercely back. She gave a laugh. "I'd better get my husband away from you—come on, Jasper, let's dance again. We don't want to ruin Nessie's big day with an accident."

Dean's jaw dropped. Alice and Jasper skipped away, melting back into the dancing masses before he could think of anything to say.

It had to have been ten seconds after they'd gone when Dean finally regained his voice. "Well, _fuck you_!" he spluttered furiously. He barely noticed the startled looks he received and the way the talk around him seemed to die down.

"Dean, they can hear you," Sam hushed him, even though he looked just as mad.

"_Let 'em_, the bastards!" Dean shouted back, and now the startled looks were turning into offended glares. "Oh, I'm _so sorry_ my special-sauce blood is just so tempting that it might cause someone to _eat me_—but, oh, don't be sorry I'll be _dead_, just be sorry I'll have put _Renesbait_ out! _Dammit!_"

"I promise you that no vampire will kill you," Cas spoke up, his voice quiet.

"You're damn right they won't, the twinkle-twats!" Dean shrieked, almost hysterical. "Sonofa_bitch_!"

"Dean! Look, I'm just as mad about this—" Sam started.

"Hell no, you aren't!"

"_Shut up, Dean!_" Sam hissed. "Just—calm down, okay? Don't give them any _more_ reasons to wanna kill you!"

Dean glared at his brother, who was in turn glowering out at the sparkling crowd. Dean didn't care about any of the nasty looks they were getting, and was in fact contemplating just giving them all the finger. But he didn't, instead deciding that there was only one thing that could _possibly_ improve this situation.

"Come on—I want more food," he muttered.

"For Christ's sake, Dean, don't you think you've eaten enough?" Sam sighed.

He decided right then that Sam, at least, deserved to be flipped off, and did so. "No, I don't," Dean retorted. "I'm going."

"Fine," Sam said, shaking his head. "Watch your back," he added warningly.

"Have him watch it for me," Dean groused, jerking his thumb at Cas, and then he stomped off in the direction of the buffet, his only hope of surviving this waking nightmare with his sanity intact.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Have two little disclaimers to throw out there. One, Dean's wording when feeding Castiel the escargot is actually a tiny homage to _Sealab 2021_, specifically the episode "Stimutacs." Two, for anyone who is curious, the song the happy couple danced to was "Someone to Die For" by Jimmy Gnecco.


	9. Eat the Rich

**Author's Note:** The chapter title and soundtrack is taken from the Aerosmith song "Eat the Rich."

**Spoilers:** Spoilers for _Twilight_, _New Moon_, _Eclipse_, _Breaking Dawn_, and all six seasons of "Supernatural."

**Disclaimer: "Supernatural" is the property of Kripke Enterprises and Warner Bros. Television. The Twilight Saga is the property of Stephenie Meyer and Little, Brown and Co. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from this work.**

* * *

**Chapter 9 – Eat the Rich**

While Dean had every intention of getting more food, it actually wasn't because he was all that hungry—the cake had been considerably more filling than all the appetizers. The real reason he wanted to eat more was so that he could _drink_ more. This bullshit was utterly intolerable, and only the solace of alcohol was going to get him through it.

He savagely grabbed a plate and then made an executive decision to ignore the forks and just started popping random items onto his plate with his fingers, muttering the whole way.

"Bloodsucking bastards tell me one more time I smell delicious, I'm gonna start swingin'—nasty bitches. Keep your stinkin' comments—and your _hands_—to _yourselves_!" He turned around, glaring at the crowd as he stomped towards the beer. "'Accident' my ass, acting like it's _my_ fault you think I smell good, blaming it on _me_ if you murder me—what, is my skirt too short, too? Was I _asking_ for it?" He slammed his plate down on the table and then jammed his glass under the tap to fill up again, not caring that he was pouring a light beer over the remnants of a dark, keeping up his steady stream of angry complaints. "You can all go douche with a Roman candle, every last one of you. 'Most delectable aroma you've ever smelled'—I'm not _bacon_, you dicks!"

His head jerked up when a great, booming laugh sounded nearby. He didn't bother trying to look polite or contrite when he saw it was a vamp, and he didn't even care that this guy was _massive_, bigger than even most of the wolves present. He was grinning merrily in the face of Dean's obvious hostility, still sniggering.

"_Bacon_," he repeated, chuckling. "That's fantastic."

Dean glared daggers at the chucklehead, and then snatched up a fork and stabbed it viciously in his direction. "You listen to me, you sparkly snot-nosed shithead," he snarled, "if you start going on about how I smell—"

The vampire raised his hands. "Dude, dude—chill. I don't swing that way," he said placatingly.

Dean stared, his itty-bitty fork still raised in warning, the vampire still smiling carelessly. Dean finally stuck his fork on his plate. "Well, all right, then," he said grumpily, about to walk back to Cas and Sam.

"Hey, stick around for a bit," the vampire said quickly, closing the distance between them. "I'm Emmett Cullen," he added.

Dean was immediately on point, and not just because this guy was frickin' huge. _Oh, great—a _Cullen_, isn't this just wonderful?_ "Dean Winchester," he said tersely, and blinked when Emmett did not hold out his hand, but instead raised his fist.

"Awesome," he rumbled when Dean warily bumped his knuckles with his own. "You're one of the dudes who came in with Leah, right?" At Dean's sharp nod, he sighed and said, "I would ask how she's doing, but I already know." He grimaced, looking the direction of Leah's table; her head was bent low and her mother and cousin were leaning close and were speaking urgently to her; Leah's fists were clenched where they rested on the tabletop. "Hope she's been having a better time with you guys than she is here."

"Uh—I like to think so," Dean said slowly, not quite sure what to make of this.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm glad she got out—but pardon me if I feel sorry for myself about it now and again. Things have been so damn _boring_ since she left," Emmett complained. "She was my football buddy—we'd always get together and watch the game on weekends when she was free. She was awesome to have around, _really_ got into it. Nobody screams obscenities like Leah." He tossed a grin at Dean.

Dean could only raise his eyebrows and nod in agreement. "Yeah, you have a point there," he conceded, having seen her in action himself.

"After she left, though, I didn't have anybody who'd watch sports with me. Rose certainly won't—that's my wife, by the way," Emmett said, pointing out into the crowd. "She's the hot blonde you totally wish you could have sex with."

Dean followed Emmett's finger to see he was referring to the blonde bridesmaid, and vampire or no, he did have to admit she was pretty hot.

"Anyway," Emmett was going on, "Rose hates sports, and Alice does nothing but shop. Carlisle and Esme certainly don't watch TV, and Jasper is a total stiff—and do _not_ get me started on Edward." Emmett leaned close to him, which Dean didn't like, but all he did was whisper conspiratorially, "I thought _Wardo_ would lighten up after he got married—you know, after he started getting laid on a regular basis—but no, all it did was drive that pole _further_ up his ass."

In spite of himself, Dean laughed. Emmett nodded knowingly, pulling back. "So now it's just me, watchin' the game all by my lonesome. It sucks."

"Well, you're one of about two people who missed her when she left," Dean said, rapidly becoming disgruntled again.

Emmett's mouth twisted. "Yeah. I know." He huffed and glared out at the crowd. "I really don't get why. She's great company! She'd come over, have a beer or twelve, knows some _awesome_ dirty jokes, and she's way sexy. I never had any complaints. Have no clue why everybody hates her. Well, I understand why Rose hates her," Emmett corrected himself. "It's never a good idea to stick two smokin' hot alpha bitches in the same room together," he said sagely. "Fur is bound to fly—and did it ever."

Dean snorted, but then darkly replied, "I think that if Leah had any alpha bitch status with these people, she wouldn't be so frickin' miserable right now."

Emmett's good humor faltered momentarily. "Point," he conceded.

The silence they lapsed into wasn't necessarily comfortable, but Emmett broke it easily enough. "So, I take it you are not having the grandest time, what with everyone here apparently treating you like Dean a l'Orange."

Dean bristled immediately. "I swear to God—Leah warned me about a lot of crap that was gonna go down at this Dracula convention, but she never said _anything_ about _that_. It isn't just creepy, it's driving me batshit insane! I haven't met a single one of you things that doesn't tell me how much they wanna eat me!" he snarled.

Emmett shrugged. "You do smell pretty 'piquant,' as my sister-in-law would say." He rolled his eyes. "But I gotta agree—that's a pretty dick move, to just come up and tell you all about it. I mean, I never told Bella that she smelled tasty when she was human."

Dean set his plate down, crossing his arms in irritation. "I think 'dick move' doesn't really encompass what telling someone to their face how much you wanna _kill_ them is." He took a drink of his beer.

"Well, to be fair, it worked on Bella," Emmett commented dryly, and snorted at Dean's revolted expression.

Dean stared down into his beer glass, and then gave Emmett a sidelong look; he was leaning against the side of the taps, sardonically observing all the prancing and preening going on around him. Figuring that it couldn't hurt, Dean said idly, "But if you want the truth, it isn't just the death threats that have ruined my day."

He was pleased to see that Emmett understood right away—and what's more, he clearly agreed with him. Emmett rolled his eyes, crossing his beefy arms. "Hoo, boy. Dean, consider yourself lucky. You're only having to look at the end product." Dean furrowed his brows at him, so Emmett grimly clarified, "_I_ had to be there for the planning and preparation." He glanced over at his niece. "She's somethin' else, isn't she?" Dean only made a half-hearted effort to keep his snort in this time, but Emmett just echoed it. "If you can believe it, this was actually gonna be a whole lot _worse_. Ness wanted to accommodate _everyone_—she originally wanted there to be an extra set of taps next to the beer. You know—everyone could have a nice, warm glass of O, A, B—and even AB for those who like rare cuisine."

Emmett gave a wry shrug to Dean's sickened gape. "We talked her out of it." He then waved a hand at all the decorations. "But this—no dice on going easy there, because she's always been into stuff like this. And I know you met her—and that's pretty much how she's been her whole life. It was kinda cute—when she was _little_."

Dean glared out at all the white before him. "There is no age in the world where _this_ could be considered cute," he informed the vampire.

Emmett chuckled. "Yeah—I think Rose learned that too late." He looked out across the crowds and made a kissy face at his wife; her sour expression cracked for the first time since Dean had seen her when she simpered back at him. "For a while there, Ness could do no wrong in my wife's eyes," he said, rocking back on his heels. "I can't blame her for Ness…turning out the way she did—not really. I mean, she did spoil her something awful, don't get me wrong, but so did everyone else. It's just that everyone else _kept_ spoiling her; Rose stopped after about two years—and you know, I don't think Nessie has ever forgiven her for it."

He once again leaned down near Dean. "Truth be told, I think some good is gonna come out of all this. Rose likes to do this whole wedding thing once every few years herself—you know, have a big wedding where we renew our vows, make everybody do as she says, be the center of attention." Emmett smirked. "I was never all that into it, but you gotta keep the women happy, know how it is?" He winked. "But, I think now that she's on the receiving end of it…she doesn't think it's so hot anymore."

Dean looked out at Rose. She was no longer smiling; instead, she looked mostly annoyed as she watched Jacob and Renesbait talk very loudly about the gifts (i.e., their price) that they'd received from the Cullens. "Yeah, she doesn't exactly look like she's having the time of her life," Dean replied.

"Oh, she isn't," Emmett said matter-of-factly. "We almost had a genuine catfight a week or two ago. Nessie was bossin' Rose around, and Rose doesn't take too kindly to her HBIC position being usurped—by Bella _or_ her kid—and she was this close to telling Nessie in no uncertain terms what she could do with her generous offer to be her bridesmaid." Emmett rolled his eyes. "But, you saw the ceremony, so I'm sure you can guess how that turned out."

Dean pulled a face. "Why the hell didn't she just walk out? I would have."

Emmett huffed irritably, ruffling the fringe on his forehead. "She had more than a few tantrums thrown at her, that's why—and I ain't just talkin' about Ness." He looked disgusted. "Wardo was all over Rose, telling her she wasn't about to mess up his daughter's big day, so she'd just better do what she was told. Had a good mind to deck him for that, but the runt can hear you coming a mile away. Knew it was no use. And then _Bella_ went off on her, and I don't hit girls, so I couldn't hammer her, either—and then Nessie brought up the rear. By that point it was pretty much join or die."

"Well," Dean said carefully after a brief pause, "if it would make you feel any better…I'm pretty sure you could go punch 'Wardo' right now—I don't think his little mind-reading powers are up to snuff today. If they were," he added, "he'd've probably torn my head off a dozen times if he could hear what _I've_ been thinkin'."

"Yeah, I've been wondering about that," Emmett remarked. "Wardo's been PMSing all morning, ever since he came flying out of the prep tent going off on how his mind-reading got shut down. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?" he asked, raising one eyebrow as he looked down at Dean.

Dean just smirked as he took a drink of his beer. "Not a damn thing."

Emmett laughed, looking back out at the crowd, and Dean could tell he was staring at Cas. "So who is that little guy, anyway?"

"Just a friend," Dean said mildly, and then, just 'cause, added, "Leah has the hots for him."

Emmett gave a bark of surprised laughter. "Seriously?" he asked, bemused, and at Dean's nod, grinned. "Well—that's sure going against her type." He leered down at Dean and nudged him with his elbow. "I once thought about trying to get her in on a threesome with Rose and me." At Dean's approving look, he shrugged with resigned disappointment. "But, given that those two have nearly come to blows before, I figured that I wouldn't make it out of there alive if I got caught between them. That is, if they didn't rip my balls off just for suggesting the idea," he added.

Dean snorted, and after a silence that was almost friendly, Emmett asked, "What have you guys been doing with her, anyway?"

"Odd jobs here and there—she doesn't travel with us all the time. It's mostly just me and my brother, Sam. We meet her sometimes, though, have a few laughs, work a few jobs, then go our separate ways—rinse, lather, repeat."

"She's really doin' all right out there, then, huh?"

Dean considered. "I think so, yeah—right up until she got dragged back to this hellhole, anyway," he said, scowling suddenly.

Emmett sighed, but didn't speak. Dean turned around to refill his beer halfway, and then, spotting his forgotten plate, picked it up and dug in.

Emmett was watching him interestedly; the hairs on the back of Dean's neck prickled at being examined so closely by a vampire, especially after today, but Emmett only asked, "That stuff any good?"

Dean nodded, seeing as his mouth was full of meat Jell-O again (who knew that could be so damn good?).

"Just curious," Emmett said. "I didn't even know what half the stuff was, honestly. I was fourteen in the big Crash of '29, see," he went on, "and then got turned in '35—not a lot of time or opportunity to enjoy 'the finer things in life' before I went vamp."

"That bites," Dean said before he thought about it, but Emmett seemed to get a kick out of it.

"Exactly," he agreed. He looked contemplatively at the beer. "I was changed before I turned twenty-one, too, and my momma was totally on board with Prohibition—so I never even had a chance to have a beer."

Dean nearly choked on his food. "God_damn_—you never hung out in a bar or had a shot of whiskey, or—or—" He flapped his hands a little. "—or did a keg stand or got hammered with your buddies?" Dean gawped at Emmett's wry headshake. "That's just _wrong_!"

Emmett laughed, and briefly clapped a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Hey, it ain't as bad as it seems. And while I never had a beer or a few drinks with buddies, there was one time where I snuck some of my uncle's moonshine."

Dean raised his eyebrows appreciatively. "How'd that turn out?"

"I went blind for three days," Emmett replied cheerily. "It was awesome. Would've gotten away with it if that hadn't happened—the whippin' Momma gave me when she realized what I'd done was enough to keep me from going back for more."

They both laughed and then Emmett continued, "But seriously—you can't really miss what you never knew, eh? Anyway, it's a bit late for regrets, I think—so I just make the best of it. I'm living comfortably, I don't hurt people, and I've got my music and my car and my hot wife." His expression took on a dreamy quality. "Just the two of us, out on the highway, cranking the Deep Purple…"

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Lemme guess: 'Highway Star'?"

Emmett's eyes snapped open and he nodded, obviously pleased. "Hey, a man after my own heart! Damn skippy it's 'Highway Star.' But I'll probably be getting back into the Charleston soon." He grinned at Dean's bewildered look. "Rose bought me an old Model-T for Christmas last year. We used to have one when I was growing up—that's where I learned cars. Man, it looked like crap, but it was made of iron in all ways, lemme tell you." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "She and I have been restoring it over the past few months."

Dean blinked. "_She_ has?"

Emmett grinned, looking smug. "Doesn't look like a grease monkey, does she? Lemme assure you—she is. She _loves_ her cars."

"What's she got?" Dean asked, admittedly intrigued.

Emmett ducked his head, now looking sheepish. "Well…Rose and I kinda come from different planets. I was a dirt-poor farmer, but she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth, so she's…got a bit of a hang-up with new and shiny stuff. She prefers modern cars—but after she buys 'em, she mods 'em up herself." Emmett tapped his own chest with his finger. "Me? I like _classics_. How about you?"

Dean did not bother trying to contain his self-satisfaction when he answered. "I got a '67 Impala."

Emmett's eyes went wide. "You son of a bitch," he said flatly. "No shit?"

"No shit," Dean replied. "And she is a beauty, lemme tell you."

"Man," Emmett breathed, sounding awed. "I'd _love_ to get my hands under her hood—that is a _machine_."

Dean pointed a threatening finger at him. "Hey—no ugly talk about my best girl, you—she's not loose."

Emmett laughed, and then said, "You really gotta show her to me after this party's over."

Dean decided to have the conversation take a little detour, mostly to avoid the fact that they didn't exactly travel here by conventional means. "Don't mind me asking, why don't you just get one of your own? I mean," he gestured vaguely all around them, "it's not like money's a problem for you guys."

Emmett frowned. "No, money isn't the problem. Everyone else is the problem. Wanna know what everyone _else_ goes for?" Dean nodded with no little trepidation, and Emmett started ticking off his fingers. "You saw the photo of _Ness's_ new car—the rest of my family likes Porsche, Ferrari, Mercedes, Rolls-Royce, Lamborghini, and Aston Martin. Wardo also has a soft spot for Volvos. The fact of the matter is that our garage is a little full right now," he finished mildly, and then threw back his head and laughed at Dean's utterly horrified expression.

"Your garage is full of plastic foreign crap, dude," Dean declared.

Emmett looked mock-affronted. "Are you daring to question my brother's taste?" he said pompously. "He is very much into cars, and he _knows_ what is good, thank you very much, as he very often told me when I mentioned I wanted to get a 1970 Ford Mustang a few years ago."

"Your _brother_ couldn't tell a gopher hole from his own ass," Dean blurted out.

Emmett cracked up, and then pounded Dean on the back good-naturedly. "My sentiments exactly. 'Course, because he whined that there wasn't room in the garage, I didn't buy it, 'cause there is no living with Wardo if he doesn't get his way. Couple months later, he had Ness's very first car where I wanted to put the 'Stang. It was a ZR1 Corvette convertible, in case you were wondering."

"I wasn't," Dean said sourly.

"Rose pretty much went behind everyone's backs with the Model-T," Emmett continued. "Had to, really; none of them like the classics, and outright refuse to let me buy any. You know they have the nerve to say they aren't safe?"

Dean gawped. "They'll slander the classics and then turn around and buy _Mercedes_?" he spluttered. "Those shitty cars routinely get ranked as some of the most _unreliable_ pieces of crap out there!"

"Well, not all of them," Emmett shrugged, but then he smirked. "Just the ones Carlisle tends to buy."

Dean didn't grin back, just asked incredulously, "_Why?_ Why the hell would he buy unreliable car after unreliable car instead of something with _integrity_? And _class_, dammit," he added grumpily.

"Well, you already answered your own question earlier, dude," Emmett shrugged. "Because money ain't a problem—and everyone else in my family has pretty much gone beyond 'money ain't a problem' and straight into 'spend as much as you can because you can.' Reason Carlisle and everyone else buys those kinds of cars is _because_ they're expensive, and I guess they figure that the more they cost, the better they are."

"I've already seen that attitude," Dean groused. "Alice tried to rip off Leah's clothes because they weren't _expensive_ enough."

Emmett grimaced. "I actually think my sister Alice is under the impression that her excessive spending on clothes is _cute_," he muttered. "I put up with it for a few decades before I told her to stay out of my closet. She pouted for three years."

He looked thoughtfully out at the crowd. "I suppose that's why this whole setup is probably one of the more…extreme cases I've seen when it comes to my family throwing money around. We all started out human, and while pretty much _everyone_ in my family except myself had money growing up, they weren't insanely rich like this—because, you know, they didn't have insider trading tips." He glanced down at Dean. "Don't tell anybody that. Anyway—they're all pretty ridiculous with their spending, but this is Ness's wedding—and she grew up with all that dough. She's never been denied a damn thing in her whole life, never once thought about where the money is coming from, and always believes that there will be buckets more."

He ran a hand through his hair. "Guess the best way to put it is she's never really lived in _reality_."

"No," Dean said firmly, "the best way to put it is that she needs a good kick in the pants, and needs to be told that the goddamn world doesn't revolve around her."

The snort in response was not entirely humorous. "I approve of the sentiment, but I have to ask: how do you get that through to someone who for her entire life has not only been told that the world _does_ revolve around her, but has also had two or three demonstrations that could be used as proof?" Emmett gave a half-smile. "Little bit hopeless."

"You want to know what is hopeless?" a voice suddenly purred nearby. They both glanced up to see it was Rose, sauntering forward with a hand on her hip. She slid her arms around Emmett's neck. "You are, dear."

"Oh? Why is that? Tell Dean why I'm hopeless," he grinned back.

"Because you said I'd rip your balls off if you suggested we have a threesome with Leah Clearwater," she replied. "Silly man—you act like I don't own them already."

"I'm terribly sorry, Rosey-Posey," he simpered ridiculously. "You'll have to remind me of it later."

"I have every intention of doing so," she murmured, and then released him and turned to Dean, looking him over. "I understand you are not fond of my niece."

Dean eyed her, unsure. "Uh…not especially," he said, and then, because he didn't know what else to do (and because, since she hadn't sniffed him once, he was more inclined to think a little better of her than the others), extended his hand. "Dean Winchester."

She raised an eyebrow for a moment, regarding him haughtily, but eventually she took it, her freezing grip dainty as she answered, "Rosalie Cullen." She eyed him. "I also understand you find this event not to your tastes, Dean Winchester," she continued. Dean smiled dryly and shook his head. "Then I believe that we'll get along tolerably well," she finished, giving him a speculative smirk as she released his hand. She turned to Emmett again. "You had best watch what you say, darling," she said, her bored tone taking any sting out of her words. "Our dearest niece does not like what she is hearing from you."

"Eh, she hasn't liked anything I say for years," Emmett shrugged.

"True enough. But, while I think a bit of dissention would do everybody a world of good, she does not, and she is in charge—as dearest Bella and Edward were kind enough to remind me," she said, looking displeased.

"Oh, don't feel bad, honey," Emmett said, and the sudden sugary-sweet quality of his voice was damn near disturbing. "You know you'll always be in charge of me, right?"

"Of course I do," she replied, her voice just as gooey, and then she wrapped herself around him again, and Dean was treated to a much more interesting floorshow as they made out.

He voyeured for a bit, but when he finished his beer, he set the glass down on the table and cleared his throat.

Emmett resurfaced briefly.

"I'm out, dude. Nice meeting you, Emmett, Rose," Dean said, nodding and giving them both a thumbs up.

Emmett beamed. "Same to you, buddy—remember, I wanna see the car."

"Yeah, I'll remember," Dean replied, and then excused himself from the vampire petting session.

He looked out across the dance floor, peeking through the gaps in the crowd for Sam and Cas. He found them easily enough—just had to look for the vamp-free zone. They were over on the opposite side of the party, standing near the cake. That was a nice place to be; Dean figured he'd finish off the event with a little more chocolate before calling it quits. He looked one more time at Rose and Emmett, who were clearly going for some kind of record (despite—or perhaps because of—the disapproving looks they were getting from passing members of their family), and then started to make his way around the dance floor.

He had barely taken three steps when he saw Leah again. His eyes narrowed; her face was buried in her arms, and while all three of the women had their backs to him, he could tell by the way the other two were leaning in that they were speaking rapidly and intensely.

Doing his best slink, he maneuvered between the tables and silently made his way over to them, keeping firmly out of sight, until he came to rest behind a nearby potted plant about ten feet away.

Sue was talking when he got within earshot. "And this is exactly why I didn't want you to leave, Leah, because I was afraid you might do something like this," she lectured.

"I haven't done _anything_," Leah answered, and even though her voice was muffled, Dean was alarmed to hear the note of desperation in it.

"Leah, stop it," Emily pleaded. "You keep saying how you've moved on and gotten over it—how can you even _say_ that? You and…Sam were high school sweethearts, engaged to be married, and you just flippantly say you _got over it_? That fight you had after our wedding—"

"_Don't_," Leah snarled, her head snapping up. "Don't try and use _that_ as proof that I'm still hung up on your goddamn husband, Emily—"

"We don't have to try," Sue said sharply. "Listen to yourself, Leah! Anyone so much as brings that up and you immediately go on the defensive."

"Or maybe I'm just tired of everyone acting like that was somehow _my_ fault!" Leah snarled right back.

"We're not pinning blame," Emily said gently. "I'm just saying…that wasn't a 'we're through' fight, and I know it. Just because you had a little explosion at him…" Emily put a hesitant hand on Leah's shoulder, and Dean could tell by the way she tensed that she wanted nothing more than to slap it away. "Leah, it's _all right_ to still be…to still love him, but this is not the answer."

"I don't love Sam Uley anymore," Leah growled through her teeth. "I came to terms with the fact that we were over _years_ ago."

"I suppose that's why you suddenly bring a date named Sam to the wedding where you knew Sam Uley would be," Sue replied tersely.

"Do I even need to point out that 'Sam' is a very common name? It's not _my_ fault his parents named him that—"

"Why have we never heard of this person before?" Sue went on. "You never told anyone you were dating, never told anyone you even were traveling with other people until today. Surely you aren't pretending you don't know what that looks like."

"No, I'm not pretending," Leah hissed. "I just don't _care_."

"Well, you should!" Sue suddenly burst out. "You disappear for four years and come back hanging all over _three men_! This is why I didn't want you to leave, Leah, because I was afraid you'd—you'd start going to cheap bars and picking up—"

Sue didn't get to finish. Leah jerked away as if she'd been slapped, standing up so fast she sent her chair skittering backwards across the floor with a loud scraping sound. Dean stared, stunned and angry, when the other two stood up as well.

"Leah," Emily implored, "please, I'm sorry—Sue, don't lose your temper, it isn't helping. Leah, we're just trying to help—we _know_ you, Leah, we're you're _family_—"

"No," Leah said, her voice trembling. "If you knew me, you wouldn't be saying this—you wouldn't be _doing_ this. You don't know me at _all_." She whipped around, and Dean moved forward into view.

"Hey, Leah—are you—"

Leah met his eyes, and he was shocked and appalled to see something he had never seen before in the two years he'd known her: her eyes wet and glistening with tears, her face crumpling even as he watched. "Not now, Dean," she whispered, and then she flew past him, her hand over her mouth as she rushed off and out of sight.

Dean watched her go, gaping, and then slowly turned back to face the two women still standing in front of him, and they were staring at him with angry suspicion bordering on accusation.

Fury exploded in his midsection, and he clenched his fists. "Oh, I'm sorry—was I interrupting something?" he growled.

Up their noses went, and they didn't bother saying anything to him, just walking off together to probably go shake their heads and talk about how stubborn that clingy slut Leah Clearwater was.

Those sorry _bitches_.

He took a page out of Leah's book, glaring hard at their backs and being disappointed when they didn't burst into flames. After they disappeared into the crowd, he started his trek again, this time with much more purpose; Sam would just _love_ to hear this particular story.

"Dean!"

Dean nearly stopped short at the sound of his name, but then just clenched his teeth. "No, no, _no_," he snarled to himself, picking up his pace and storming in the direction of his brother and Cas—and then jumping back with a startled shout of, "_Shit!_" when the four vamps just _appeared_ all around him, blocking his path to freedom.

"Dean, please, I just want to talk," Amun begged, reaching out to grab his shoulder.

"Don't you touch me!" Dean growled, jerking away. "What is _with_ you people? You all have grabby hands!" And it was true—this was the _third_ time some vamp had tried to reach out and grope him.

"I hardly think a simple gesture to stop you from leaving—" Kebi began, looking offended.

"No, that is _exactly_ what is wrong with it," Dean said angrily. That blonde skank had been petting him all over before the wedding—and then there had been _Randall_, of course. Dean hadn't even seen or heard him coming; one minute, he'd been eating his marshmallow, minding his own business, and the next, freezing cold hands wrapped around his arms from behind. He didn't like thinking about it—he had a nasty feeling that his yell of surprised indignation and the attention it had drawn were the only reasons that Randall had let go.

And now _this_.

"Fine, I apologize," Amun grumbled dismissively, his intent red eyes never leaving Dean. "Now, I wanted to know if you had reconsidered—"

"What part of 'no' don't you people _get_?" Dean flapped.

"Dean, please—you don't seem to understand what I am offering," he countered patiently.

"Believe me, I understand better than you could possibly know. _Leave me the hell alone!_"

"Please calm down," Kebi begged, and then looked imploringly at Benjamin.

The tall, careless-looking vampire just rolled his eyes down at Dean, which just pissed him off even worse, but spoke up. "Look, it's like this," he said, like he was talking to a stupid kid, "some people are just…meant for greater things, I guess. That's why Amun changed me, after all." He grinned, looking oh-so-proud of himself. "I had potential like you do. I was a bit mad at first, but once I realize all that I had gained? Everything I lost was _nothing_ compared to this." His arrogant smile was undoubtedly supposed to be reassuring. "Really, some people are just born to be vampires, but even then they aren't always lucky enough to have a chance to be who they are meant to be, instead just living out their short human lifespan without doing anything great." He looked down at Dean, and his patronizing face was just begging for a fist. "I really don't think you want to spend the few decades you have left trapped in that weak form, Dean. Trust me on this; I know what I'm talking about."

Dean swelled with anger. "Yeah? Well, you can take all that and cram it up your ass," he shot back.

"Now, really!" Tia said, looking affronted. Dean just sneered at her and tried to go around—but no matter what he did, they just moved to stand in front of him. Dean's jaw clenched; now he was becoming pretty concerned as well as infuriated. "You are being deliberately obtuse—" she started again.

"Don't you call _me_ 'obtuse,' you frigid bitch," he snapped at her.

He couldn't help but jump; Benjamin was suddenly in front of him, his angry growls rumbling through the air between them. "Don't you _dare_ insult my mate!" he spat. "Especially when she is the one in the right."

Dean didn't move, just glared at him. "You dicks haven't been right about _anything_ since you agreed to let Asshat Amun give you his little love bite," he said flatly. "Just because you're a soulless monster who was glad to throw away his humanity so he can be a sparkly murdering freak doesn't mean the rest of us are."

"You listen to me, _human_," Amun suddenly hissed, his voice low as got up in Dean's business. "I am making you an offer that many humans would do _anything_ to have, and you are throwing my generosity back in my face!"

"Oh, yeah—an offer to become your little stooge, just like Captain Planet there. Real generous," Dean sneered.

"How _dare_ you speak to me like that—" Benjamin began furiously.

"Pretty easy—even though I'm just a pathetic human and not one of you glittering homos," Dean cut across him.

Amun bared his teeth, but Dean didn't back down. "I have been asking _nicely_ that you to join us, Dean. I have been patient and I have been excessively kind, even in the face of your ignorant belligerence." He loomed in closer. "Perhaps instead I should simply _take_ what I want, and _force_ you to see that I am right," he snarled.

Dean's spine stiffened, and he was never more aware of the comforting weight of the gleaming angelic blade up his right sleeve, the weapon that Leah had insisted both he and his brother carry. Amun had triumph in his greedy face, and Dean set his jaw. "Well. I will tell you this, asshole," he said in a low voice. "You say I have all kinds of potential to be a super-powerful vampire?" He stared right back into those red eyes. "You change me, and the first thing I'll do is annihilate every last one of you motherfuckers."

Amun pulled back, hissing.

Dean heard a low rumbling to his left, and now Benjamin was getting up in his face again, and Dean tensed his hand, ready to flick his wrist and send the blade right into his waiting fingers. "You have the _nerve_ to threaten me, you pathetic lump of flesh? I'm not particularly interested in changing you, and right now I'm infinitely more inclined to just—"

"Is there a problem here?"

All five of them froze, turning in unison to see that Renesbait and Jacob were standing right next to them, their faces pinched and superior. And Dean was not calmed in the slightest when he saw that both of the bastards were looking at _him_.

"No," Amun said, keeping his voice controlled. "Just a slight misunderstanding."

Dean couldn't help it. "Oh, yeah, just a tiny little disagreement involving death threats," he spat.

"Yes, I heard them," Renesbait said sharply, and Dean could only blink at the way her eyes narrowed at _him_.

"All that talk really doesn't make for a good party, you know," Jacob suddenly threw in, his disapproving voice eerily reminiscent of good ol' _Wardo_.

Dean just stared at them. "Well, I couldn't agree more," he said finally, his voice deliberately light. "I mean, they certainly ruined _my_ day."

"Then perhaps you should keep your mouth shut if you can't be pleasant," Renesbait all but ordered him.

Dean gaped, and then started to furiously reply, but she spoke over him again. "I think you should probably go back to your brother and friend and leave the rest of the guests alone," she said imperiously.

"Oh, you think so, do you?" Dean simpered, recovering his voice. "Well, I'll just get right on that, because God knows we must all do what _Renesmee Carlie Cullen-Black_ hath decreed." He clicked his heels and shot his arm straight into the air. "Sayonara, freakshow!"

He ignored the outraged glares he was getting from the entire crew—most of all from Renesbait and her bitch husband—and stormed away. Going around the crowds was now officially way too long. He just plowed straight through them all, towards where his brother had been standing, glaring right back at anyone who even thought about giving him the stinkeye.

It was quicker—but it wasn't _better_, because now he could hear all of them talking.

"—had the nerve to _threaten_ Benjamin. What a presumptuous little fool. Does he honestly think he could stand a chance against any one of us—"

"—not so sure he _deserves_ to be changed. You saw how he was behaving—he is rude and uncouth. Becoming a vampire would be an improvement, certainly, but not even that would teach him _manners_—"

"—both of them, really. Little wonder that they came with Leah, of course she'd find friends just as horrid as she is—"

"—so tired of everyone going on and on about them. Why does everybody think they are so special? Aro said _I_ was the one who had the greatest potential he'd ever seen. I mean, they're impressive and all, but they're not _that_ great, and vampires can't have multiple abilities anyway, so—"

"—they both said no, but really, I doubt that will last. Not only do I love a good chase, but I have a feeling they were just being contrary. And anyway, I have no intentions of being turned down by _those_ two humans—"

"I've spoken with both of you, Sam. You are so much more intelligent than your brother—_please_ tell me you too are not going to be stupid and refuse to see that you were meant for something better than just a paltry human life. Show more _sense_ than Dean! I can sense his potential, yes, but it is not nearly as distinct as yours—you are meant for this more than he is, surely!"

That was Eleazar.

And that was _it_.

Dean poked the cocksucker hard in the back. The vampire turned, not at all surprised to see him there, only affronted that Dean dared to interrupt him, he and his wife giving him identical disdainful glares.

"Get away from my brother," Dean said flatly.

Eleazar sneered. "I don't believe I was talking to you."

"Fine, then I'll say it—get the hell away from his brother," Sam said bluntly.

The vamp looked frustrated. "I don't _understand_ you two—why are you so—"

"These boys have asked you twice to leave. Don't make me ask you as well."

Eleazar's eyes widened and he shut up, both of them flinching back. There was Cas, staring up at him with a very serious glare; Dean knew from personal experience it was never good to be on the receiving end of it.

The leech took the hint and left, taking his demure little wife with him and slithering back to the rest of his group. Dean stared stonily at them until they were gone, and then turned back to Sam. "Why'd you leave Cas?" he asked him. "You had a nice electric fence to keep the dogs out."

"I was coming to get you," Sam replied hotly. "I saw that those pricks caught you—it looked serious."

"Oh, it was," Dean said. "They were _very_ serious about killing me—or maybe just taking me out back and raping some vampire into me—until _Renesbait_ came over. I really need to learn my place, don't you know?"

Sam's jaw tightened. "Sons of bitches."

"Sons of bitches," Dean repeated in agreement.

Sam ran a hand through his hair. "You know, I think we've seen enough. I say we ditch, if anything just for our own damn safety. Where's Leah?" he asked.

Dean's hands flexed and he crossed his arms. "I think she's probably in the bathroom," he said simply. "Because remember how Mommy and Cousin Emily came over to talk? They talked—and made Leah _cry_."

Sam's brows shot up. "Are you _serious_?"

Dean nodded grimly. "Oh, yeah. Told her to her face that she needs to stop clinging to the past, and that's why they didn't want her to go off on her own—because without them, she's nothing but a whore who sleeps around with anyone, and brought us here strictly to try and get at her fucking ex. She _really_ needs her _family_ to make sure she stays in line."

Sam looked like he wanted to punch something. Dean glared out at the crowd—out at all the vampires and wolves, who were still throwing nasty looks their way, still probably muttering about _his_ rude behavior.

He'd been insulted. He'd been groped. He'd been mocked. He'd been threatened. He'd been treated like dirt. He'd watched everyone here throw insult after insult at Leah until she cried. He'd watched them stroke their own egos and lord over everyone here with their oh-so-superior attitudes. He'd watched them flaunt their money and act like because they had it, they were better than him. He'd watched them mingle with murdering monsters and then treat _him_ like the freak. He'd been told he was just a worthless human—that he was _nothing_. He'd just watched one of them try to make a _deal_ with his little brother.

And now, he'd had enough.

"Sam," Dean whispered. "I don't think we should leave just yet."

"_Why?_" Sam asked, incredulous.

"Because we haven't been on good behavior," he muttered back. He stared hard at Sam. "And we _promised_ Leah we'd be on our _best_ behavior, didn't we?"

Sam's brow furrowed for a moment, but then his eyes widened. "Ah."

"I don't like going back on my promises," he continued, looking back out at the monsters. "So I think we should do right by Leah now, Sammy."

He could see Sam's resolve strengthen, that familiar upward-twist of his mouth giving him a naughty-little-kid look. "I couldn't agree more."

Dean gave him a dark smile in return before looking to their wingman. "Cas, you ready to pull double-duty?"

"Double-duty?" he repeated, looking confused.

"Keep a _real_ close eye," Dean clarified, rolling his eyes. "We're about to go…mingle with the masses, and I'm sure you know they're pretty pissed off right now."

Cas nodded. "They are not at all happy with you two, no."

"Well, make sure they don't try anything—but just make sure you don't step in unless we give you the high-sign, unless it's _absolutely_ necessary. I mean, brink-of-destruction kind of thing. You got it?"

He nodded again. "I have it."

Dean snorted. "Okay," he said, his voice low even though he knew it was pointless. "Take the right, Sammy. I'll go left—we circle around, meet at the buffet."

"Roger that," Sam said, and took off, his stride long but lazy. Dean went soon after, giving everyone a wide berth but still keeping them all in his sights.

_Well, here we go_, he thought to himself, feeling a little fizzle of excitement in his belly for the first time since he'd arrived here. _Time to crash this party._

* * *

**Author's Note:** Calling Edward Cullen "Wardo" is not our invention. That is from LJ's oxymoronassoc's hilarious creation "Growing Up Cullen."


	10. Bonfire

**Author's Note:** Well, time to lead into our climax, with a final POV shift back to our original narrator Leah. The chapter title and soundtrack is the Warrant song "Bonfire."

**Spoilers:** Spoilers for _Twilight_, _New Moon_, _Eclipse_, _Breaking Dawn_, and all six seasons of "Supernatural."

**Disclaimer: "Supernatural" is the property of Kripke Enterprises and Warner Bros. Television. The Twilight Saga is the property of Stephenie Meyer and Little, Brown and Co. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from this work.**

* * *

**Chapter 10 – Bonfire**

Leah leaned heavily on the white marble sink, staring into the unseeing black eye of the drain. Her breathing had finally stopped hitching, and after a moment she looked up at her face in the mirror.

It was blotchy and red, of course—she'd never been a pretty crier. At least her makeup hadn't run. She straightened up and turned to retrieve some tissue from the stall. You'd never guess this was just a port-o-potty. Paneled with wood on the outside and with real fixtures, running water, and cloth hand towels inside, it looked like the bathroom in a four star hotel.

_Typical_, she thought tiredly as she dabbed carefully at her eyes, blotting away the remnants of her tears.

She'd thought that she was ready for this. She really had. She had her friends, and her new life, and she'd thought she'd put this all behind her. But as she stared at herself in the mirror, all she saw was that same angry, confused, and outcast girl she'd been from the beginning. She shouldn't let it hurt her—but it did. Her mouth trembled and she looked away, fighting off another crying jag.

She knew she should've known, should have expected the kinds of petty insults she'd get from her pack, but she hadn't, and it had knocked the wind out of her when they'd all started sneering at her and talking about her behind her back, just like they always had. And Emily—she should have known there, too. It had been nearly ten years, but Emily just refused to believe that Leah had gotten over Sam and just continued to pick at her, trying her hardest to open a wound long scarred over—all in the name of being _helpful_.

But when her own _mother_ had started making the same accusations…it was too much.

So, here she was, just like before, just stupid, useless Leah running off to cry by herself.

She should have known that any invitation home would end like this. Only it would never end—she was always going to be unwanted Leah, at the beck and call of these people who wanted her around only to use her for their own amusement. It would never end, not as long as she was a wolf…and maybe even beyond that. She was trapped. It didn't matter that she'd left. Didn't matter that she was helping people, saving lives, and living her own. In the end, it would always come back to this.

She blew her nose noisily and wiped her eyes one last time. After pressing a cool, wetted towel to her cheeks, she re-applied a little mascara and lip gloss and then stood straight. Well—no matter what else they might do to her, she'd be damned if she was going to let them see that they'd made her cry.

Affecting a look of calm that she in no way felt, she left the little bathroom tucked away behind the pavilion and went out to rejoin the party. She held her chin up and refused to meet the eyes of anyone, human, wolf, or vampire. All she wanted to do was sit down somewhere by herself and wait for this hellacious day to end.

She didn't go back to the same table, instead finding an empty one even further away, and tucked herself out of sight behind the huge centerpiece of peonies and lilies surrounded by glass bowls of white candles. Surely it would only be another hour or two, and then she could find Sam and Dean and Cas, and they could take her away from all of this—at least for now.

She was sitting quietly, numb to all the babble of talk flowing over her, when she heard it.

An enormous belch echoed across the party.

All talk stopped. Leah looked up, startled, just in time to hear Dean remark loudly, "Hoo, boy—that sure tasted better going down!"

Her mouth fell open as he and Sam both laughed uproariously at his wit. _Jesus, Dean!_ She looked around, uncomfortable. From the pursed mouths and disapproving looks from everyone else, their sentiments were obvious. But…somehow the boys didn't seem to notice. They had drawn literally every eye from the assembled guests, but were just carrying on loudly as if nothing had happened.

"Yeah," Dean was saying, "I mean, when I saw the names of all this crap, I didn't think I was going to get to eat anything all day."

"Tell me about it," Sam replied, his voice rich with disgust. "'Petites Caisses au Fromage?' What kind of jumped up, show-off name is that? It's artichokes in cheese—you don't have to try to make yourself look intelligent and everyone else feel dumb by labeling it in French—unless maybe that's the only way they can feel smart."

Leah's eyes were growing wider and wider. _What are they _doing_?_ she could only wonder, bewildered and uneasy.

"Actually, the stupid names nearly put me off some of it," Dean said in a confidential tone that was at odds with his volume. "I mean, would you want to eat a flaming cooch? Sounds like something you'd get diagnosed with down at the VD clinic."

Sam snickered in return. A low murmur of talk was starting up, and Leah could hear it was all about Sam and Dean—and her. She looked furtively around, shifting nervously in her seat. This was bad. This was _very_ bad. What the hell were they _thinking_?

"Half this stuff I can't even tell what it is—escargot?" Dean pronounced it like it was spelled as he stabbed something and held it aloft. "Looks like boiled dog's left nut." Leah saw him steel himself and then pop it in his mouth. "What is it?" he asked, chewing loudly and with his mouth open.

Sam's smirk was obvious. "It's a sea slug."

Dean froze—and then went into a series of elaborate convulsions, hacking and choking so loudly and obviously that it could only be staged, and then very deliberately spit out the gob of half-chewed snail…in a dark and obvious streak right down the side of the pristine white tablecloth.

"Oh, gross!" he was bellowing. "Sammy—get me something to drink! I think I'm gonna puke!"

Sam skittered down to snatch a champagne glass and fill it up and then rush it back to Dean, who flapped theatrically once more before taking a huge swig, with which he started _gargling_ and then spat it out on the ground before downing the rest. Then he grimaced. "Champagne? What, do I look as gay as everybody else here?"

Sam gave a bark of laughter. "_That_ would be impossible."

Dean grinned, and then they both sauntered down to the end of the table toward the drinks, brushing by all the appalled partygoers as if they weren't there, until they got to the beer. Dean pulled out a glass and filled it up, immediately downing an impressive gulp before belching again. "That's the ticket," he said in satisfaction.

Sam was grinning near maniacally, and as he turned to his brother, he said, "Hey, look, Dean—Jenga!"

Leah could only watch in horror as he turned and reached for a champagne glass from the _bottom_ of the elaborate stack.

She realized too late that he was serious, and by then she had no time. She wasn't fast enough—she went dashing forward, nearly throwing her seat to the ground behind her and tearing through and around the tables and knots of guests, but was too late. She arrived right by them just in time to watch the entire left forward corner of the tower of glasses go crashing to the ground, even as both the brothers just howled with laughter.

There were shouts of shock, of dismay and outrage, but Sam looked supremely unperturbed. "Oops," he said lightly, still chuckling. "My bad." He tossed a disarming grin to the crowds. "Sorry, guys," he said easily. "I'm just a useless, clumsy human, after all." Then, after winking once at Leah, he casually turned and filled up the glass he'd taken and took a drink.

He made a face after he'd swallowed. "Dude, who the hell had the idea for the fountain? And with these stupid coupe glasses, too?" He was speaking much too loudly; everyone could hear him, and he paid no attention to Leah's increasingly agitated gestures for him to shut up. "It's making this champagne lose all the carbonation—these flat glasses were meant for sweet champagne. Putting this dry champagne in here has pretty much ruined it." He smiled at her with patronizing sweetness and spoke in a stage-whisper. "I guess it's okay, though—it's a pretty common mistake, particularly when people are just throwing around money to impress but don't actually know what they're talking about."

Leah could only gawp as he raised his glass and toasted the affronted crowds, most of whom were nastily muttering that someone like him wouldn't know anything about champagne, before he turned back to his brother.

Dean had polished off his beer and, after letting loose with another loud burp and just chucking his glass over his shoulder where it rolled under the table, looked around and announced, "Man, I need to take a leak—where's the head around here?"

Sam pointed back behind them towards the bathrooms, but Dean just gave them a one quick look and said, "Pfft. That's too far—I'm about to piss myself. Excuse me."

He sauntered off towards the large marble urn holding a manicured and beribboned hydrangea by the corner of the tent. Turning his back to the crowd, he very deliberately situated himself, and even as Leah thought that no, he wouldn't, he _couldn't_, she heard the distinct sound of his zipper going down and…oh, God, he was peeing in the bushes.

This was too much. Her face horribly, _horribly_ red as everyone stared at her, she dashed over to the bush. "Dean," she hissed, keeping her eyes firmly on his face, "what in the hell are you _doing_?"

Dean flicked an unconcerned look in her direction and then gestured downward. "What does it look like I'm doing—having tea with the Queen?"

"Dean," she snarled, "_what in the hell are you doing?_"

Dean calmly shook off and zipped up, and then turned to her with that shit-eating grin that she'd learned meant trouble. "Leah," he said sweetly. "Don't you remember how you told us to behave when we first agreed to come to this monster jamboree?"

Leah blinked uncomprehendingly—and then she suddenly remembered. "Dean, no!" she whispered frantically. "You can't—bad idea, remember? Werewolves and vampires? _Bad idea!_"

Dean snorted. "Relax, babe—I've seen enough. You were right the first time—we'll be fine," he said dryly, gesturing to the crowds. "And just in case, we have Cas, remember?" He beamed at the angel, who was still standing aside being obviously avoided, as he had been all day. She jerked her head back when Dean patted her cheek as if she were a child. "Now," he said, "why don't you just sit back and relax, and let Uncle Dean and Uncle Sam take care of everything?"

And with one last sly smile, he moseyed back over to the buffet table, utterly indifferent to the scowls and glares and otherwise appalled looks he was getting, and started stuffing mushrooms into his mouth until he looked like a chipmunk, and then turned around and grinned, open-mouthed, at every single person who was staring at him.

Well and truly panicking now, Leah could only try to chase down Sam. She found him, horror of horrors, talking to Jasper and Alice Cullen, and as she approached, her stomach dropped like a stone when she heard what he was saying.

"Good God—what idiot designed this white nightmare?" His voice carried far too well for it to be anything less than intentional, and his tone was brimming with disgust. "There are other colors you know—what, was the goal to make everything as white and bloodless as all you creeps? Or maybe just to make all the Native Americans look _less_ white so they remember their place?"

"Weddings are _classically_ white," Alice snarled, "And _I_ designed this wedding, and I think that I've had more experience with fashion than you could _ever_ have!"

Sam snorted rudely. "Oh, yeah?" he asked mockingly. "Where'd you learn—the Nathan Bedford Forrest School of Design?"

"There's no such school," Alice informed him derisively. "And I've studied design in Paris and watched the rise and fall of all the great modern designers."

Sam stared at her, and then simply said, "You're an idiot."

Alice hissed furiously at him, which Sam ignored, but he couldn't ignore Jasper as he pushed forward. "Don't you speak to my wife that way, you vulgar human!" he snarled.

Sam was supremely indifferent. "Free country," he told Jasper. "Seriously, though," he went on down at Alice as if they hadn't been interrupted, "are you so dumb that you don't even get the point of an outdoor wedding? It's supposed to blend in, to take advantage of the natural scenery—not try to hide it." He tossed a disdainful glance around him. "This big white zit of a setup looks about as tacky and artificial as an aluminum Christmas tree in the middle of Redwood National Forest."

Leah reached them then, and she grabbed his shoulder and jerked him around before Alice could angrily respond. "Sam, _no_!" she begged desperately as Jasper watched them both with murder in his eyes as he pulled Alice protectively toward him. "_Don't do this!_"

"Ah—sorry, Leah," Sam said with mock regret. "Sometimes a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do." And throwing a very obvious glance back at Jasper, he added, "And since there aren't any real men here, I think Dean and I will be just fine." He smiled, all charm, and asked, "I mean, what's the worst that could happen?" And he threw up his hands in an exaggerated shrug—which threw the remaining champagne in his glass up in the air…and right down Alice's back.

Leah clapped her hands over her mouth as Alice screeched, leaping in the air and turning with fiery eyes to Sam. "You ruined my dress, you jerk!" she howled.

Sam made an indifferent noise. "Trust me—I'm doing you a favor," he said scornfully. "You look like a two-dollar whore in that dress, and I should know."

Alice shrieked with outrage, and Jasper shoved his nose right up in Sam's face and growled dangerously, "I should kill you for that!"

Sam's face twisted in disgust and he leaned back and waved his hand under Jasper's nose. "Dude—get a breath mint! What'd you last eat, roadkill?"

Jasper's lip twisted, baring his teeth, and Leah tensed for a disaster, but he only said threateningly, "You speak to my wife again, and the next thing I eat will be _you_."

Sam laughed right in his face. "As if," he sneered contemptuously. "You doucherockets like pretending you're better than everyone else way too much to break your little diet."

Jasper gave a wordless snarl of rage, but just charged off and away, dragging a furious Alice with him and deliberately slamming into Sam as he went. Sam just snorted, righting himself as he rubbed the spot on his shoulder that would probably have a bruise in a few hours, and said, "Classy." Then he smirked, waggled his eyebrows at Leah, and swaggered past her and right back in among the outraged clusters of guests.

Her hands flew up to the side of her head, pressing against her temples. She'd said she'd wanted this, but seeing it happen here, like this, all she felt was dread, that something horrible was going to happen, that she had dragged her boys—her best friends—to their deaths. She looked around with something near fear—but then her heart leapt when she saw the still figure standing beneath a trellis and surveying the party with a watchful eye.

She dashed toward Castiel, murmuring, "Excuse me," as she brushed past the guests, ignoring indignant glares and accusing whispers as she went. She skittered right up next to him, gripping his elbow tightly and leaning in close to his ear. "Cas," she whispered, her voice dropping to near sub-sonic levels that only a werewolf or vampire could hear, and then only at close range. "Can you hear me like this?"

"Of course." He spoke in normal tones, and he looked at her with concern creasing his forehead.

"Cas—the boys have started screwing around. I—I told them that I hated everyone here so much that I'd want them to trash the party, but I didn't really think it would work and I took it back and told them they shouldn't—but they're doing it anyway, and people are really starting to get pissed off." She looked earnestly into his blue eyes. "_Please_ watch out for the boys—they might make someone mad enough that they'll try to hurt them."

She winced, and Cas turned briefly at the sound of Dean's outraged voice loudly proclaiming, "Goddammit, stop following me around, you ass-spelunker! How does your beard there feel about you trying to pick up other men, huh?" followed by an infuriated exclamation that Leah identified as Carmen.

"And you too, you fuming slut!" Dean bellowed, still at full-blast. "You think I wanna stick my dick in a meat locker?" The outraged screech that this insult provoked could only come from Tanya.

Leah bit her lip, trying to hold back a burst of laughter that she knew held a measure of hysteria, as Cas turned to face her again. His blue gaze was calm, and he said evenly, "Of course I will—I came here to watch over all of you."

Not to be outdone by his brother, Sam had started up from the opposite side of the party. "My God!" he shouted. "You told him no, and then he tore your face off, and _that_ made you change your mind? What, did you apologize for making him hit you?"

Leah closed her eyes; he could only be talking to Emily, and sure enough, she heard her cousin burst into tears immediately after.

She blew out a breath and whispered urgently, "Cas, I can take care of myself—but if someone gets it into their heads to try something, I don't think the boys will stand a chance. Whatever happens, you take care of them first—don't worry about me."

He looked at her, his face serious. "Of course I'll tend to them first, but I won't abandon you."

She managed a shaky smile, squeezing his arm in gratitude…but then it dissolved into dread when she saw Sam—Sam _Uley_—storming in her direction. He faltered for a moment when he saw Cas—when he _felt_ Cas, no doubt—but then his face hardened and he closed the remaining distance and seized Leah's arm in a punishing grip.

"I know you heard that," he snarled. "_What have you been telling them?_"

Leah tried to pull her arm away; his fingers were like steel. "I just told them that we used to be engaged and then we broke up when you imprinted," she hissed.

Sam's fingers tightened enough to bruise, and he shook her where she stood. "Then where did they hear those _lies_?" he demanded furiously.

"Let go of me—" she started angrily, but he cut across her with a dangerous rumble in his throat.

"_You tell me what you told them!_" he commanded, and he yanked her arm, and she yelped as she suddenly felt like a rope in a tug-o-war—but she didn't move.

They both blinked at each other, and then turned—to find Cas staring hard at Sam, one of his slim white hands gripping Leah's elbow with a gentleness that belied the implacable strength that held her steady against Sam's insistent jerking.

Sam stared at him, incredulous, and then, at a loss at what else to do, dropped Leah's arm. She drew back, pulling unconsciously closer to the angel, staring at Sam defiantly as she rubbed her arm, the bruised finger marks already fading.

Sam looked rattled, but then straightened with angry bravado and loomed over her, leaning down close to her face and growling, "You get your 'friends' under control, Leah."

She set her jaw. "I can't make them do anything," she returned heatedly.

Sam's lip curled, and in a low, threatening voice said, "Well, if you won't, then _I_ will."

"No. You won't." The sudden words, spoken in that same level but unyielding tone, drew both their eyes once again in surprise to Cas. His expression was unchanged, but flecks like storm clouds raced across his eyes as his gaze fixed upon Sam.

Sam's surprise quickly gave way to a derisive scowl, and he pushed forward, trying to use his bulk to intimidate the much smaller man as he said, "This is none of your business, you—"

"Yes, it is." His low voice cut across Sam's bluster like a hot knife through butter. "If you hurt Sam or Dean Winchester, I will kill you."

Both Leah and Sam's jaws dropped. Leah knew intellectually that Cas was a serious badass under that nerdy exterior, but it never failed to startle her when he actually _showed_ it.

Sam, however, didn't know that, and after his brief burst of surprise at being so threatened by the tiny angel, immediately swelled where he stood and advanced on him, sneering, "Oh, you will, will—"

And then he froze, his eyes widening, and every hair on Leah's body stood on end and her breath was snatched away and she could only cringe back as something seemed to _flex_, and, as she clapped her hands over her ears as her head was filled with a piercing, supersonic squeal that drowned out the many sudden cries of shock and pain, the very air around them seemed to _burn_.

And then it was over. Cas hadn't moved, his expression was the same, and he only replied simply, "Yes."

Dead silence had fallen over the entire party. Leah blinked and then flicked her gaze to the side; dozens of wide, shocked eyes, those of every single non-human guest, were staring in their direction.

And then Sam—Sam Winchester—took it upon himself to break the tension by cutting a loud fart.

Everyone jumped at the sudden sound even as Dean gave a shout of laughter and said, "Oh, man—the Toxic Avenger strikes again! Go for your gas masks!"

"You're just jealous, Dean!" Sam hollered back, and Leah could only press her fingers over her mouth to muffle the fit of giggles that seized her.

Sam Uley was just standing, gaping, and he looked much smaller somehow—diminished. His jaw worked for a moment, and then he just turned on his heel and was away, clearly trying for a furious march, but somehow looking much more like a slink.

Leah squeezed her eyes tightly shut, looking away as she covered her mouth and tried to get what she was knew was a fit of hysterics under control. She finally stilled her hitching shoulders and took a deep breath, dropping her head to rest on Cas's shoulder until she could look up. She met his eyes, which were turned toward her with a look of mild concern but nothing else, as if he hadn't just emasculated her ex-boyfriend. She couldn't help but smile. "Cas," she said, "you're awesome."

His brows knitted, as if he wasn't quite sure how to respond, but after a minute he gave her a cautious, "Thank you."

She giggled, just a little, and then remarked, "I guess that's that, then." She flicked her eyes over the crowd; they may have been angry with the Winchesters before, but now they looked…scared. They were taking great pains not to so much as _look_ at the brothers, instead casting many nervous glances in their direction; or rather, in Cas's direction. Cas hadn't bothered to hide his words; they'd all heard him, and anyone who might have tried to hurt the brothers definitely _felt_ him. The knot of fear in her stomach had loosened, and even though Leah couldn't help the strange jumpiness that made her quiver, as if she was getting away with something she knew she shouldn't, she was at least sure that now none of those sorry bloodsucking sons of bitches would try to hurt her boys.

She looked back at Cas, and then whispered so no one else could hear, "I guess you can just keep at it—just keep an eye on everyone, but I think you…well, I think you put the fear of God in them. I guess I'll just go…sit down and watch the boys."

She smiled at him as he nodded, and after this horrible, _horrible_ day, it felt like the first real smile she'd managed in years. Unable to help herself, she leaned forward to peck his cheek. That familiar heated look flared immediately in his eyes when she did so, as it had just about every time she touched him for more than three seconds in the past few months since their little aborted tryst on the motel couch—he sure knew how to make a girl feel wanted, she reflected with an internal girlish giggle. "Later," she reminded him firmly, softening her words with a sly grin. "Right now, you're on duty, Featherbutt—as you were."

Cas stared at her, his eyes clearing, and then his face took on his usual serious demeanor and he nodded. He turned away, going back to watching the crowds as they in turn watched Sam and Dean. Leah recognized a dismissal when she saw one. Still, she uncertainly stood where she was for a moment, watching with something like slowly mounting glee as Sam and Dean stood at opposite ends of the buffet table and threw food at each other while trying to catch it in their mouths (and strategically missing whenever it would make the biggest mess), before quietly sneaking off to a far corner to sit down at an empty table.

The majority of the death glares the boys had been getting seemed to have shifted to her, she found as she slipped through the crowds. Well, since the boys were off limits now (and she couldn't help a small, nasty smirk at the thought), she seemed to be the new scapegoat for their behavior—and that was fine by her. Their contempt for her was nothing new, and _she_ was not defenseless.

She sat down and reflexively tried to make herself as small as possible, keeping her head down to hide the helpless smiles that her boys kept dragging out of her. But how could she keep from smiling? She had to bite her lip when she overheard a snotty-voiced Bella start lecturing the Winchesters—because who else would be dumb enough to approach them after Cas said hands off? She was telling them that they were acting like churls (seriously? Who the hell said crap like that? She must have picked it up from her prick husband) and that they needed to behave themselves for her dearest daughter's wedding.

It was Dean, of course, who mockingly answered—he never did take well to being told what to do. "Or what?" he wanted to know. "You'll flounce at us? Shake your finger? Tell us how much better you are than us? Or maybe you'll just attack us with your all-powerful extra-special super vampire ability—oh, wait. That's right." He smirked at her. "Your little powers don't actually _do_ anything."

Leah covered her mouth as Bella sputtered. "What—I have one of the most powerful abilities ever seen in a vampire!" Leah was amazed that Bella didn't stamp her foot as she said it.

"You do?" Sam shot back. "Can you make my head explode? Can you force me to shut up? Can you strangle me with your mind if you find my lack of faith disturbing?" His voice rose louder and louder as he spoke. "Can your powers even do anything to me _at all_?"

"I saved nearly _every vampire here_ from the Volturi! I stymied the most powerful and largest vampire coven in the world _single-handedly_!" she shouted back at him.

Sam was not impressed. "Oh, so basically your power is to hide behind your smoke screen and live cowardly ever after without ever actually doing any fighting or facing any danger at all," he surmised. "That's really great, Bella. I made a great and brave sacrifice like that too the other day—I stayed in bed."

Bella went storming off in the other direction just as Leah dropped her head to the table, shaking with silent laughter.

It finally tapered off, and she took several deep breaths, resting her head against the white tablecloth, when a voice suddenly spoke to her.

"Hello, Leah."

Her spine stiffened, and she looked up.

It was Rosalie Cullen. Her glittering face was smooth and nearly expressionless except for a tiny smirk playing around her mouth, that rich-bitch smile she always had that pissed Leah off so bad.

Emmett was with her, her arm looped through his, and he smiled down at her and rumbled, "Hey, Leah," before looking off back up at the buffet table.

He was watching Sam and Dean just as everyone else was, but as he ducked his head when Dean yelled, "Gawd—do we have to listen to this emo rock crap all day?" Leah saw him grinning.

And he wasn't the only one; Rosalie actually seemed to be smiling a little wider herself, and she gave Emmett an indulgent little pat on the arm and said, "All right, Emmett—you can go play with your new friend now. I'll just stay here and…catch up with Leah."

Leah barely had time to react to that unwelcome statement before Emmett was off like a shot. He made a beeline for Dean, and Leah couldn't help but tense—until she saw him holler Dean's name and hold up his clenched fist which, after a moment of surprise, Dean pounded with his own, throwing his arm around his shoulders and introducing him to his brother.

"You certainly have…interesting friends," Rosalie suddenly said, her voice loaded with what she left unsaid as she idly inspected her gold-lacquered nails.

Leah bristled immediately. "They're great friends," she said stoutly. "Some of the best I've ever had."

Rosalie raised one sculpted blonde eyebrow, her lip twisting in an expression that quite clearly said she expected no less of her…but then, to Leah's surprise, said, "Well, Emmett certainly seems to like them…which I suppose makes them acceptable in my book." She tossed a glittering and perfectly fake smile in Leah's direction. "Mind if I join you?"

Leah did mind; all the lilies and peonies in the world weren't enough to drown out the stink of a bloodsucker, and short of Bella herself, this was probably the last one of the Cullens she wanted to talk to at any time. But Jacob was Leah's Alpha, and Rosalie was a Cullen, and deference to them was nearly as automatic as breathing. So Leah just nodded once, and then looked determinedly ahead as Rosalie sat easily down right next to her, fussing and arranging her gown and smoothing her hair before finally facing Leah.

"So—what do you think of our little party?" she asked, all brightness.

"Words fail me," Leah answered tightly.

Rosalie gave a fluttering little giggle. "Oh, no, Leah, surely you can do better than that," she simpered. "One might get the idea that you aren't enjoying yourself."

Leah glared at her, and while her smile never faltered, Rosalie's voice suddenly dropped to a whisper that even Leah had to strain to hear at this close range. "Because God knows I'm not."

Leah could only stare. Rosalie looked away, casting a rather pinched expression out over the crowd. "I always liked having my special days with Emmett, renewing our vows, and incidentally getting to try out different wedding plans and designs…but this…" her face twisted, and she turned sharply back to Leah. "Do you get the feeling that this is less about a wedding and more about showing off?"

She couldn't help it; Leah's voice was low, but she snapped back all the same, "What—don't like sharing your spotlight?"

Rosalie's eyes narrowed, but then a lazy smile quirked one corner of her mouth. "Call it what you like," she said airily. "But the fact remains that I'm not having any more fun than you are—and that frankly, I think your little pets have the right idea."

"They're not my pets!" she said hotly, but her anger fizzled out as soon as she registered what Rosalie had just said, to which Leah could only reply rather stupidly, "Wait—what?"

Rosalie sneered at her. "You always were such a scintillating conversationalist, Leah—but then, I forget that you generally have to use small words and a great deal of repetition in order for dogs to finally understand you."

Leah's lip curled. "Is that how Bella and Renesmee trained you to be their bitch?" she asked sweetly.

Rosalie's face went ugly in a heartbeat, and they glared at each other, their bodies taut—until they both jumped at a sudden cracking sound. The looked over in surprise—to see that Emmett had ripped one of the kegs out of the beer taps, hoisting it aloft to the shouts of encouragement from Dean and Sam.

Rosalie and Leah could only watch as Emmett, grinning like a loon, set it down right on the edge of the dance floor, and then Dean bent over it—and then Emmett and Sam were hoisting him up by his ankles, hooting and hollering as Dean began to chug.

Leah pursed her lips to keep from laughing out loud—in no small part because she knew the Winchesters were safe, because they had a vampire with them—a _Cullen_, no less—so of course the other vampires might look disapproving, but they'd never dream of attacking them.

When she flicked her eyes up, she was surprised to see Rosalie smirking slightly too. Her eyes hardened a little when she caught Leah's own, but then her expression turned speculative. "Leah," she said, her voice still too low for the others to hear. "Let's not beat about the bush—I don't like you, and I am well aware that you don't like me."

"Understatement," Leah answered sardonically, and Rose just gave her that nasty, bitchy smirk again.

"Agreed," she said. "But—I think we can also agree that we hate…this," she said, gesturing about with a sour face, "even more than each other." Her golden eyes glinted dangerously. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend, after all." She was nearly purring. "So—what would you say to putting our differences aside and teaming up in the name of causing a little…mischief?"

* * *

Leah felt jittery, nervous, like a ball of snakes was writhing in her middle as she skirted the dance floor, which was still in use by a few remaining vampire couples. She could hardly believe she was doing this.

She slipped around the back and slid up in front of the computer on the podium that was tastefully hidden among the hydrangea bushes and gardenia trees that made up the background and perimeter of the dance floor. A bundle of wires ran from it to all the white-draped speakers that surrounded the main floor and were scattered around the edges of the party area.

Looking around her, helplessly apprehensive, she minimized the playlist and checked the desktop. It was Emmett who had set up the sound system, all with his own equipment, and just as Rosalie had said, on the desktop were a series of music folders—and she went straight to Emmett's.

"What do you think you're doing?"

She'd heard him coming, of course—she'd _smelled_ him coming, actually. But even if she hadn't, she'd have known Edward Cullen's pompous, nasally drawl anywhere. She straightened, turning to face him where he stood behind her, his face pinched, his arms crossed tightly across his skinny chest.

"I'm just looking for a song to play—what you have is…nice, but it's not quite to everyone's taste," she said, habit keeping her polite and deferent.

Edward's sneer made it quite clear what he thought of people who had different tastes in music than he did. "This isn't about _them_," he said derisively. "This is Renesmee's wedding, and this is the music that she and her mother and I chose for it."

Leah swallowed the reply she wanted to give, simply saying, "Well, I just thought that maybe playing something that my guests liked might keep them from getting bored—they're not used to parties like this," she added.

"Obviously," he said scornfully. "You never should have brought such uncouth, classless boors here in the first place, Leah."

She glared at him, but only momentarily before smoothing her face back out. "Well, I thought it would have been rude not to. But, since they're here, Rosalie suggested that maybe Emmett might have some music they'd like better, and so maybe they could dance…and get away from the food table," she added sincerely.

Edward's eyes had narrowed, but Leah's jaw had clenched slightly at the way he'd seemed to unbend a little when she said that it was _Rosalie's_ idea—because that apparently made it okay, somehow. He flicked a disdainful gaze over to where Dean, still flushed from all the beer he'd just downed, was loudly decrying how unfortunate it was that Emmett had been cut down in his prime and had never been able to really live before he got turned into a sparkling mannequin, and Sam was chiming that it was a shame, since now he was stuck with all the bourgeoisie dicks who were obsessed with trying to show how much better they were than everyone when they were really just a bunch of shallow hypocrites. Edward turned back to her with a look of contempt. "I suppose there is something obnoxious and low-brow enough there to suit _them_," he said. "Fine, then—just get them away from the food and in line. They're offending all the guests—_and_ they've insulted my wife."

_Isn't that just a crying shame?_ She relished the fact that she didn't have to keep her thoughts as subservient and guarded as her words, even as all she said in reply was "Yes, Edward," and even gave him a forced, "Thank you."

He nodded pompously and then crossed the dance floor to Bella, who gave Leah a half-offended, half-sulky look.

The song had finally come to an end, and all the couples posed dramatically before sweeping off, some sneering at her as they left with half-muttered comments about her bad taste in, well, everything. Leah ignored them and stopped the wedding playlist.

"What've you got for us, Leah?" came the playful question from the sidelines. She looked up to see Dean waving to her from the edge of the floor, standing next to Sam where she'd told them to wait after her little tête-à-tête with Rosalie. "Something with balls, I hope?"

Scrolling quickly through Emmett's music, she felt a grin cross her face. "Oh, yeah," she said, tossing him a wink, and she hit enter.

The party ground to a sudden, surprised halt as the loud, blaring notes of the opening riff of Warrant's "Bonfire" came blasting from the speakers. Dean hooted in approval. "Oh, hell yes!" he crowed, punching the air. "No more of that pussy rock!"

"Yeah—rock _about_ pussy, instead," Sam leered, and they both laughed uproariously.

Everyone was staring at her as she stood alone on the dance floor, her red dress standing out against all the white like blood on snow. She saw their looks of dislike, of contempt, of disgust, from human, wolf, and vampire alike, and she stared back.

_Fuck this._

And she grinned, and as the drum line picked up, she felt it in her bones, and her hips began to sway.

Dean gave a whoop of admiration, and she smiled at him, long and lazy, and called, "Well—come on, then Dean." She beckoned. "Come on over here and work that ass for me."

He gave a bark of laughter, high-fived his brother, and then shimmied his way right across the floor to grab her waist. "Now this is what I'm talking about," he informed her as they started to dance.

They were staring, and they were whispering, all around the floor, and she could hear them, and she hated them. But this is what they were determined to see in her—so that was exactly what she would give them.

"So—you back in business?" Dean asked. She looked back at him, and the sympathy in his eyes made it all-to-clear what he meant, and she set her jaw.

"Well—no matter what, they aren't going to change what they think of me," she told him, "so I might as well just give them what they expect."

She was smiling as she said it, and her voice was rebellious, but she knew Dean could see the lingering hurt in her eyes—but then he just grinned back. "Damn right," he said, and pulled her close and swept her around and back in a sexy dip and just planted one on her.

Leah almost laughed, but she wasn't about to pass up this opportunity and gave as good as she got, taking a sick pleasure in the way that everyone was talking about how she was a whore and a skank with no modesty or class, focusing instead on Dean's mouth and Sam's holler of approval.

Dean broke it off straightened them up, and when she opened her eyes to see his smarmy grin up to eleven, she could only smile and say, "Now I remember why I keep you around." And, with one quick glance to the side to make sure they were all still looking, dropped her hand to grab his ass.

He laughed, and then he started to move, working his hips up against hers, and she held him close by his butt, her other hand on his broad shoulders.

A wild sort of madness seemed to have filled her—she was going to make a spectacle of herself, and she _wanted_ to do it—she wanted all those vampire sons of bitches and all the bastards in her pack to see her, and she _wanted_ them to think that she was trashy, that she was cheap, that she was loose, that she was nothing but a bitter harpy, that this was all just confirmation of everything they'd ever thought about her—because they were _wrong_, and _she knew it_.

And so when she turned around to grind her butt right in Dean's crotch, as he wrapped his arms low around her waist and hips and gyrated right back at her, she called his brother over. "Come on, Sam—I want me a Winchester on rye!"

Sam laughed, tossed his half-full glass on the table next to him and staining the cloth with champagne, and then barreled right over, thrusting his own hips up against hers and freak-dancing right along with the two of them.

They weren't even bothering to whisper out in the crowd now; they were outright talking about her, and she could hear it all, every word they said. She heard them saying it was disgusting. She heard them saying it was tasteless. She heard them saying how this was nothing but a flagrant display on her part and a bid for attention. And she could only laugh.

Dean gave a sudden bellow of, "_Yeah!_" and she looked over to see him cheering Emmett as he led Rosalie out onto the floor and started dancing as well, and no more of those stupid waltzes, either—they were getting it on every bit as wild as Leah and her boys were.

All three of them laughed as Emmett flashed a thumbs up from where his hands were around Rosalie's hips, and then Dean suddenly said, "Whoops—sorry to break up our little party, guys, but I think I see another cutie who badly needs a partner."

Leah watched him go, mildly curious, but then saw all the tight-lipped looks of disapproval she was getting, and turned back to Sam. "All right, now," she said slyly, "you'd better just give me some sugar too."

Sam grinned, and then firmly grabbed her by her ass and yanked her forward into a searing kiss. She heard her mother hissing furiously that she knew it, and heard her anger because clearly, Leah had been lying this whole time about the boys, and so she hiked up her leg and wrapped it around his hip just to drive it home.

They finally broke apart, grinning fit to split at each other—just in time for Leah to see Dean leading a giggling Claire out onto the dance floor.

"Go get 'em, Claire!" Sam called, and Claire was still giggling as Dean coaxed her to start dancing in time with the music.

"Just be sure to give him back when you're done!" Leah said with a smirk, and Dean waggled his eyebrows back at them as he twirled Claire around.

Laughing, Leah turned—and caught Rosalie's gleaming eye.

"All right, Sam," she murmured. "Hi ho away we go."

And she started moving them along the floor, still dancing, and Rosalie was too, taking Emmett with her, and at just the same moment when they reached the center, they backed right into each other.

Rosalie swung around—her eyes were bright, her head high and tossing, but the fury in her voice was entirely believable as she spat, "Why don't you watch where you're going, you werewolf _bitch_!"

The party guests went suddenly silent, dozens of wide eyes just staring at what was unfolding on the dance floor. Leah let go of Sam, whirling around to face her. "Fuck you, you bloodsucking _slut_!" she snarled.

She pushed Sam out of the way as Emmett backed off, looking torn between stifled amusement and honest worry, and she stuck her jaw out and steeled herself as she saw Rosalie raise her hand.

_Crack!_ Leah staggered against the force of the blow, her head ringing from where Rosalie had slapped her. Ignoring all the _oohs!_ from the crowd, she jerked her eyes up—and in Rosalie's smug look, she saw that, planned or no, she hadn't pulled that punch at all.

Well—two could play at that game. Rosalie was jutting out her chin, just daring Leah to say anything about it, to ruin their little charade.

It was a perfect target.

Leah hauled back and socked her right in the jaw.

Rosalie went flying back into Emmett, and although she straightened herself quickly, her face was shocked—until she caught Leah's smug smile. Ignoring Emmett's half-hearted pleas for them to settle down, she answered it with a bloodthirsty grin of her own that said she knew exactly what the score was.

Leah had only enough time to marvel that vampires were such showmen that Rosalie had actually timed things just right so that their little staged catfight would occur during the song's guitar solo before the vampire charged.

The next few moments were a flurry of shrieks and curses and fists and feet as she and Rosalie grappled together. Despite their care not to ruin dresses or jewelry or hair or makeup, they both managed get more than their shares of blows in, and Leah knew they were entirely deliberate; neither one was about to pass up the chance to give the other what she thought she had coming.

It ended, though, when they swerved too close to the wide-eyed, slack-jawed Claire (and the equally wide-eyed, slack-jawed Dean), and Leah was distracted for the tiniest moment in steering them to the side, which gave Rosalie the opportunity she needed to hook her foot around Leah's ankles. She might have saved herself had not Rosalie all but leapt down with her.

She landed with a _whoof_, all of Rosalie's stony vampire weight on top of her as she held her down with her thighs and grabbed her arms and pinned her wrists above her head.

Leah snarled with hate that was only half-feigned, and then Rosalie leaned down, her eyes wild, and Leah's own went wide when for a moment she thought that Rosalie was taking this all _very_ seriously now and she might have a real fight on her hands—when she suddenly smiled.

"Watch this," Rosalie whispered with a quick smirk up at Emmett—and then she kissed her.

Leah froze in shock at the feel of her hard, icy lips, her eyes popping wide as she felt the press of her tongue—but at the sound of the twin cheers from the Winchesters and Emmett's roar of approval, which drowned out the shocked gasps of the guests, Leah just shrugged internally.

_In for a penny_, she figured, and then forcing down her disgust at the sour-sweet taste of vampire venom, she thrust her tongue forward and proceeded to make out with Rosalie for all she was worth.

Sam and Dean were howling, catcalling, and Dean bayed like a wolf, and they weren't he only ones; she could hear Embry and some of the younger male guests hooting along with them, and Emmett bellowed, "_I love you, Rose!_" and Leah could feel her smiling against her mouth at the sound of the clicking shutters of three camera phones.

Rosalie pulled back, a distinctly feline grin on her face, and then she leapt to her feet and pulled Leah with her before wrapping her arms around her, pulling her close, and starting to dance.

Leah looked out at the guests, at the salivating younger wolves, the stiff and disapproving faces of the rest of the Cullens—and right in the middle of them was Edward, looking utterly appalled—and she just laughed. She turned around to grind her butt against Rosalie and waved flirtatiously at him, starting a little but then just laughing harder at the way his eyes bulged when Rosalie reached around her to grab her tits.

The crowds that counted went wild, and when Leah looked over her shoulder, she saw Rosalie smirking at Emmett, who was charging over to get in line to grind behind Rosalie, shouting hotly, "We are gonna have _so_ much sex when this is all through!" And then tossing a naughty little wink at Leah, added, "And you are so invited!"

Leah laughed, and as a grinning Dean tucked away his cell phone and tugged Claire back into the dance, she called Sam over to complete their little bunch.

They were all laughing; Leah couldn't remember the last time she'd had this much fun, with all six of them in the middle of the floor, rocking out, pumping their fists and shouting along with the chorus, and when the music ended, Emmett seized his wife for a passionate kiss, and they all cheered and clapped and whistled. Leah dropped her hands to grab handfuls of both her boys' asses, and then Claire, flushed and happy and laughing, jumped up and threw her arms around Dean's neck and dropped a quick kiss on his cheek.

And in the silence after the music, their happy mood vanished at the sudden sound of a roar of fury from the crowd. The guests cried out in surprise, and people were moving to the side, getting out of the way, and a table was overturned as it was thrown to the side by the charging bull barreling towards the dance floor.

It was Quil.

Claire's eyes went wide—went _fearful_—and Leah moved as fast as she could to stand between the howling, spitting Quil and his quarry, saying, "Hold on, Quil—"

But he just ducked around her, tore his arm from her grip with wild, mindless wrath, snarling curses and shrieking, "_You keep your hands off her!_" and then he seized Dean and _threw_ him through the air.

"Dean!" Sam's cry cut through the shocked sounds of the crowd even as their faces betrayed their eagerness to see the punishment they felt was long overdue. Dean landed with a painful shout against the music stand, knocking over two speakers and one of the bushes behind them. Sam was off like a shot, rushing for his brother even as Castiel came gliding up along the edge of the crowd and ran to where Dean was struggling to stand.

Leah turned, and Quil was still coming; his eyes were insane, his fists clenched and his muscles bulging as his body shook with fighting the change, and he was advancing, going for Dean again, oblivious to Claire's pleas for him to stop.

"Dammit, Quil, _stop_!" Leah yelled, stepping in front of him, pushing him back, but he didn't hear her; he was out of his mind, and when she tried to _force_ him to stop, he turned on her in blind rage and swung wildly for her face.

But Leah didn't just rely on brute strength any more— now she knew how to _fight_.

She planted her four-inch spiked heel right in Quil's balls.

His eyes bulged almost comically, and then he folded like a house of cards, doubling over with an anguished wail to cradle his injured parts, and while he was still down for the count, Leah grabbed him by the hair and, with a satisfying _crunch_, broke his nose on her knee.

She threw him away from her, and even as he forced himself to stand, his eyes watering with pain and blood streaming from his nose, he started forward again, and without a thought she pulled back her arm and rammed her fist into his solar plexus with all her might.

He went flying—right into the wedding cake.

Leah clapped her hands over her mouth, watching in horror as he crushed the five tiers when he landed, the table crumpling beneath his weight, and the rest of the cake toppling down on top of him in a mess of crumbs and white frosting.

And a sudden shriek of rage rent the air.

"_You!_"

Renesmee, a nightmare in white satin, was charging forward. Her long, windblown curls were writhing around her face like snakes, and, with her lips drawn back over her teeth, her hands like claws as she pointed at Leah, and her eyes wild and rolling in her head, she looked deranged.

"_You!_" she screeched again. "_You ruined my wedding! My perfect wedding!_"

And then Jacob was there, his face burning with hate, and Renesmee turned to him. "She _ruined_ it, Jacob!" she howled, pointing at Leah as she stamped her feet. "She brought her filthy human friends just to ruin _my wedding_! She did it all _on purpose_! You _punish_ her, Jacob!" she screamed. "_You make her pay!_"


	11. If You Want Blood

**Author's Note:** Chapter title and soundtrack is from the AC/DC song "If You Want Blood."

**Disclaimer: "Supernatural" is the property of Kripke Enterprises and Warner Bros. Television. The Twilight Saga is the property of Stephenie Meyer and Little, Brown and Co. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from this work.**

* * *

**Chapter 11 – If You Want Blood**

Leah was frozen as Jacob charged forward, and she raised her hands in front of her, panic and fear boiling up from her gut. "Jacob—wait—I didn't—"

But she knew it was hopeless—Jacob had been issued an _order_ from Renesmee, and she might as well have been his Alpha. His eyes were all hate and fire, and then he was on her, his hands grabbing her upper arms so tight she felt her bones creaking in protest.

"You didn't _what_, Leah?" he roared in her face, shaking her until her teeth rattled. "Didn't _mean_ to ruin _everything, just like you always do?_"

"Jacob, _please_!" she cried, trying to twist out of his grip, but the force of his Alpha's will was too much, and he _wanted_ her to sit still and take it, and so she did. "I swear, it was an acci—"

She was abruptly silenced by Jacob's hand—she yelped in pain when he slapped her as hard as he could, her head snapping to the side as she tasted blood. "_You call this an accident?_" he bellowed, and then he hit her again, so hard she felt her skin split before knitting itself closed.

Leah heard Emmett protesting, but she knew his word was futile against Renesmee's even before she heard Carlisle sanctimoniously tell him that this was pack business and they had no right to interfere. She heard Charlie snarling, yelling that this was wrong and that _someone_ had to stop Jacob, and if nobody else would, he would, but then she heard her _mother_ stopping him, because there was nothing they could do, and she hated herself when furious, _miserable_ tears started welling up in her eyes again and she was helpless to stop them.

"You come here, bring them, and screw _everything_ up!" Jacob screamed in her face.

"I try to make you feel welcome and _this_ is how you repay me?" Renesmee's shrieks joined Jacob's enraged snarls, and Leah felt sick because she knew, she _knew_ that Renesmee was egging him on, driving him forward, and that iron band in her brain tightened as Jacob pulled back again, only this time his hand wasn't open, but closed.

She had less than a second to brace herself. Jacob's fist smashed into her face, and though she hadn't wanted to, she couldn't help it—she screamed as she both heard and _felt_ her jaw break, and then he hurled her to the ground with a howl of fury.

"Jacob!" Leah dimly heard Embry's pleading voice through the ringing in her ears and the agony of her bones struggling to repair themselves. "Jacob, _stop_, leave her alone! You can't do this—"

"_Stay back, Embry, you sit down and stay out of this!_" Jacob's voice reverberated through her head, as it did through every other wolf's, and Embry gasped as his arms flopped loosely to his sides and he fell to his knees, limp and powerless.

Leah coughed, spitting blood on the ground even as Jacob advanced again, and his hand suddenly knotted in her hair, jerking her head up. "I should've done this _years_ ago, you ungrateful _bitch_!" he bellowed. He dropped roughly to his knees and she didn't see it coming this time, his fist slamming into her face with no warning. Pain bloomed white-hot where it connected, crushing her cheekbone and eye socket, and she could do nothing but wail in agony when he shook her again, and she couldn't understand what he was screaming at her because Renesmee was screaming too, and his fist was coming up again, and all she could do was raise her arm up to shield her face, knowing it would do no good because she was helpless before him and _nobody_ was going to help her, they were all just going to _watch_ as he beat her, because she _deserved_ it—

_SMACK._

Leah's hoarse panting was the only sound for a brief second. When she finally realized that the next blow wasn't coming, she hesitantly lowered her hand and looked up, cracking open her one good eye.

Castiel stood above them, his face a mask of cold fury. His pale fingers were wrapped tight around Jacob's bulging wrist, and Jacob was staring incredulously up at him, stunned that not only had he had the nerve to interfere, but that he'd managed to stop his hand in the first place.

Jacob released Leah's hair, and she fell backwards as he staggered to his feet, his fury overtaking his shock as he tried to jerk his arm free. But once again he could only stare, thunderstruck, when he realized that he _couldn't_.

"That is _enough_." Cas's voice was implacable.

"Cas," she rasped, forcing herself to speak even though every movement of her mouth was torture as her broken body tried to repair itself. She pushed herself up into a rough sitting position, swaying drunkenly, and through the watery vision of her healing eye saw movement beyond the rest of the crowd. Dread filled her when she realized Quil had finally managed to fight his way free from the ruined table, and even through the smears of cake she could see that his eyes were zeroed in behind her—on Dean.

"Cas," she repeated, her voice so quiet she knew only he would hear her, trying her best to keep her jaw still as it mended. "Don't—the boys—Quil—"

Jacob gave yet another mighty tug, and this time Cas let go, sending him staggering backwards. He glared fiercely at the angel, straightening his back and puffing out his chest with foolish triumph, his hands balled into fists as Renesmee clung to his arm. Cas stepped backwards, his gaze flicking between Jacob and Quil as he crossed the floor to the Winchesters. He gave Leah one last concerned, questioning look, to which she mouthed "_Go!_" through her still-broken teeth, and then he finally moved to stand in front of Dean and Sam.

Quil stopped short when he saw Cas, instead changing course and moving to back Jacob up along with Sam and Paul. Leah looked up at them, and could see that Jacob had shaken off his surprise at Cas's intervention and was regaining his momentum; she could see in the smug set of his face and the hint of a swagger in his walk as he advanced that he somehow thought he had won their showdown, that he had forced Castiel into a retreat. Between his pompous confidence in his victory and the fact that he was now backed up by three other wolves, he turned his attention back to her, helpless on the floor before him.

"Hoping to get your friends to distract me?" Jacob sneered. "Typical—but it's not gonna work this time."

"You stupid _dog_," Renesmee suddenly hissed, stepping forward. "I tried to make you feel welcome—I've always been nice to you, and you've _always_ thrown it back in my face! You're such a selfish, horrible person!"

The rest of the pack was coming forward now—Embry was panting on the sidelines, still on his knees, and Leah could see the anguish in his eyes, but he couldn't move. All the other still active wolves were joining Jacob: Jared, Sam, Paul—and Seth, even her brother joined them as they closed ranks upon her, the crushing weight of their condemnation like a load of lead on her chest.

"_This_ is why you've never been welcome!" Jacob flung at her. "Because _you_ won't change and _grow the hell up_!"

Her face was healed, and she looked up and opened her mouth to say something, anything—

"_You shut up, you filthy slut!_" he snarled, and Leah's throat suddenly closed, her muscles seizing, and she didn't say anything—_couldn't_ say anything against the implacable order that reverberated through her mind with his words. "Nobody's interested in any of the crap _you_ have to say!"

Her eyes watered at the agony of the squeezing in her skull, and her head dropped against the weight of his combined anger and outrage.

"I didn't want you here!" Jacob suddenly roared. "_Nobody_ wanted you here, but Nessie—she felt bad because you'd been gone for years and figured maybe you'd had a chance to wake up and should come back and be with your family again. And _this_ is how you react to kindness—by bringing _them_—" he flung an accusing hand towards Sam and Dean, "—and _deliberately_ ruining what was supposed to be one of the best days of her life!"

"_I_ invited you _personally_," Renesmee spat out, both echoing him and _goading_ him with her furious words. "I bought you a dress and jewelry, I let you come to my wedding even though you've _always_ hated me!"

Jacob's fists were clenching restlessly, his muscles straining against the fabric of his tuxedo, and Leah could see him tensing as if to move—to _swing_. "This was all about Nessie, and you couldn't stand it—so you brought _them_ so you could make it all about _you_!" he roared. Renesmee's face was still furious, but Leah could see the triumph in her eyes. "Will you _ever_ learn to think of _anyone_ besides _yourself_?" And he raised his arm, and Renesmee's eyes were alight, but Leah couldn't move—he wouldn't _let_ her move—and he was coming forward to strike—

But then he jerked back in surprise; with a flash of sunlight on silver, there was Sam—Sam Winchester, and gripped tightly in his hand was a wickedly-gleaming blade pointing dangerously at Jacob. "Don't you _touch_ her, you son of a bitch!" he bit out, his knuckles white on the hilt.

Jacob had taken a step back in surprise, but then his face twisted in anger and contempt. "Or what, you'll stab me?" he mocked. "Yeah, I'd love to see you do that."

And then Dean was standing next to her too, his shoulders back and his eye steely. "You aren't the only one, you dickless piece of shit," he said, his voice rough and full of hate.

_No—Sam, Dean—no—he'll only hurt you—he'll only kill you—leave—save yourselves!_ But she didn't say any of those things, because her mouth and her throat and her lungs wouldn't work. A helpless wheeze was all that escaped her as she weakly shook her head—all her own will could manage around the collar of her Alpha.

Jacob growled low in his throat. "I really don't _care_ what you want—and trust me, I'll be dealing with you after I'm done with _her_." And Leah knew he would, could see it and feel it in his mind, knew that he was going to punish them like _Nessie_ wanted. And then his burning eye was back on her, and she flinched helplessly. "You always whined about how we never _included_ you, about how we never _wanted_ you—well, why _would_ we?" he hissed. "Did you ever think to maybe ask yourself that? You're ungrateful, you're whiny, you do nothing but complain how _we're_ the mean ones, you insult everyone constantly—Sam's _lucky_ he imprinted on Emily, because otherwise he would've been stuck with _you_!"

His words echoed through her skull—_bitch, filth, selfish, ungrateful_—he thought she was all those things, and she was _nothing_, he hated her, _all_ the wolves hated her, and why shouldn't they, because she _was_ all those things, they knew it, and of course they were right, she was nothing, and his mind pressed in and crowded inside of her head and she crumpled, on her hands and knees before them all, and Renesmee was shouting, and Sam and Dean were shouting but she couldn't hear them, couldn't hear anything but Jacob's endless booming voice and words and mind and she was a _bitch_ and a _slut_ and an ungrateful _dog_—

"You never bothered to try to be a part of Sam's pack, so you just barged in and made yourself at home in mine! _I_ didn't want you, either! _Nobody_ wants you!" Jacob roared. "You aren't welcome and _you never will be_!

"_You're no part of my pack—of _any_ pack!_"

And a white-hot lance of pain shot through her brain, and Leah screamed, her hands clutching and futilely clawing at her temples as if trying to rip away whatever was hurting her, and the iron bands were wrapping tight, tight, _tighter_ around her skull and with a thump she barely felt she collapsed on the ground, twisting helplessly against the pain, and her head was going to burst like a grape and this was the end, she was _dying_, and she dimly thought that she always knew they would be the end of her—

And then, with an almost audible _snap_, it was over.

…No. It wasn't over. It was _gone_.

She didn't move. Somewhere in the background, she was aware that Jacob was still ranting, that Sam and Dean were nearby, frantically talking to her, their hands on her arms and shoulders and back, but she didn't hear it, didn't feel it, didn't see it, no, she was concentrating on what was inside her head right now—or rather, what _wasn't_.

She couldn't hear him. She couldn't feel him, couldn't sense him—there was no one else in her head but _Leah_.

She was alone.

Jacob was gone.

Her pack was _gone_.

She blinked, her eyes focusing on Sam and Dean hovering over her, and she moved, pushing herself shakily to her knees, and then just sitting and staring at her hands.

Jacob was screaming at her, that she was a disgrace, that she was useless, that she was _worthless_, that she only lived to destroy everything, and he was _furious_…but she didn't feel it. The unyielding grip on her brain was just…_gone_.

"Now, you stay on your knees where you belong, you worthless _bitch_, and you apologize to Nessie and then to everyone else here for what you've done!" Jacob roared.

"…_No._"

Silence. The word had come out as barely more than a whisper…but she'd _said_ it.

She looked up. Jacob was staring at her blankly, his mouth gaping…and then it twisted in outrage and he bellowed, "_What did you say to me?_" and his face was hard and focused and she knew that look, knew that he was ordering her to do it, to bend her to his will…_but she felt nothing._

"No." Her voice shook with disbelief when she said it, and so she steadied herself and said again, "_No._" And she looked at him, met his incredulous stare, and she grasped Sam and Dean's hands, and slowly, shakily, she rose to her feet and, standing tall, she looked Jacob straight in the eye and said, "I said _no_."

"You—you can't say no!" he shouted. "I am your Alpha! I _order_ you to obey, do you hear me! _I order you!_"

"_No._" Her vision blurred, and she dashed away the hot tears that threatened, and her mouth was stretching in a helpless, disbelieving smile as she told him, "_You can't make me._"

And…he couldn't. There was no Alpha command, no leash, no pack, no Jacob, none of the thoughts and voices and feelings that had filled her head for the past ten years—just _Leah_, and that complete, wonderful silence in her head and the heady rush of glorious, _glorious_ freedom.

"I'm not going to stay on my knees." She bit out every word, focused only on Jacob's gaping, spasming face. "I'm not going to apologize to your little _bitch_," she said, her lip curling into a snarl as her voice rose. "And I'm not going to do anything you tell me to do _ever again_!"

"_You have to!_" Jacob was screaming now, his face an ugly shade of maroon, flecks of spit flying from his lips. "_I am your Alpha!_"

"…You _were_ her Alpha."

Leah looked sharply to the right, to see Sam staring at Jacob with a look of smug contempt. "You were—until you just said you weren't." Jacob blinked stupidly at him, even as Leah felt a dawning realization that left her near giddy. "You fucking idiot," Sam sneered. "Don't you even know what you just did? You were throwing a temper tantrum, and in the middle of your drama-queen shitfit, you said she wasn't part of your pack any more." He smiled. "You just set her _free_."

Jacob stared, his jaw slack, but when a sound that was half-sob, half-laugh escaped her, his features warped into a rictus of rage. "_Fine!_" he roared, near foaming at the mouth. "It's no less than you _deserve_, you stupid _whore_!"

And then with another roar of fury he ran at her, charged her, charged them all faster than a human could see, his fists swinging wildly as he screamed, "_I don't need Alpha orders to give you what—_"

He didn't get to finish his sentence. As he charged, his fist swung down, and faster than she could think, Leah acted.

With a wet _crack_ that was music to her ears, Leah punched him dead in the face.

Everything seemed in slow-motion; she felt the crunch of his breaking jaw beneath her knuckles, saw his eyes bulge with shock and then pain, and saw his arms pinwheel wildly as he flew backwards, crashing into Jared and Quil and Paul and then landing in a heap on the floor.

Leah could only stand, shaking, staring at her hand as if she could barely believe it was a part of her body, as Jacob furiously flailed and scrambled on the floor, the other wolves gawping at her even as they tried to help him to his feet.

Sam and Dean were looking stunned too, having only just managed to catch up with what their eyes had been unable to see, when Sam suddenly let out a bark of surprised laughter. "Hit him again!" he said, impressed.

"_Stop!_" Renesmee's shriek pierced the air like an ice pick. Leah's eyes jerked upwards in surprise as an apparition in billowing white skirts suddenly flung herself between Leah and Jacob, who was finally on his feet. "How _dare_ you hit him!" she screeched. "You—"

Leah blinked once—and then belted her in the mouth too.

Renesmee went down with a tiny squeal, staggering backwards and landing on her butt in a froth of white satin. For a fraction of a second, she just stared silently up at Leah, her mouth hanging open and her brown eyes wide with shock.

And then she burst into tears.

The uproar was immediate. Jacob scrambled across the floor to his dearest darling who was shrieking like a firebell, crouching over her protectively even as all of the Cullens (save Rose and Emmett, who were just standing by looking positively gleeful) rushed to Renesmee's side to try and soothe her wails—which were spiraling rapidly into _obviously_ affected now, she was laying it on so thick. The wolves were all snarling, angry that Leah had dared harm an imprint…

…and Leah's vicious pleasure faltered when she realized the vampires were closing in and surrounding them now, because this was no longer just werewolf business.

"You despicable _animal_!" Edward suddenly snarled, leaping to his feet and with a fiery glare. "You struck my _daughter_!"

Dean spoke before Leah could. "Oh, shut up—consider it ten years'-worth of spankings that you were too pussy to give her, _Wardo_," he sneered.

"How—how _dare_ you—how _dare you_!" Bella was just shrieking the words over and over again.

In spite of her growing dread in the face of the increasing anger of the vampires, Leah just turned to Bella and shouted, "I _dared_ because I _can_!"

"You won't be able to do _anything ever again_ when we're through with you!" Jacob bellowed, starting forward again.

She gritted her teeth and went into a half-crouch, ready to take him—ready to take them _all_. Even if they were going to swarm her, it didn't matter—she wasn't going to go down without a fight this time because she didn't _have_ to. She would change and tear into them for all she was worth, and she would die fighting—but she was _not_ going to let them hurt her friends.

But Sam and Dean weren't behind her anymore—they were in front, both with their angelic blades drawn.

"You stay back or we'll kill every last one of you shit-sucking freaks," Dean growled even as Leah felt Cas drawing closer, coming to stand directly behind them.

Her worry was pushed aside by anger when the vampires and werewolves alike just _laughed_ at Dean's threat, and she stepped forward to stand between—_beside_ her boys even as the vampires drew closer.

"You'll kill _us_?" Edward was sneering.

"Perhaps all that talk of being a powerful potential has gone to your head, you idiot," Bella hissed, helping Renesmee to her feet. "You're only worth anything if you _are_ a vampire. It means _nothing_ when you're just a _human_."

"You talk a big line while you're sitting behind all your big friends," Sam said scornfully, "but you sure aren't in any hurry to come up here and _do_ anything."

Bella bared her teeth, but she wasn't the one who answered.

Leah saw it; Jacob had seemed about to move, but then Benjamin darted forward out of the crowd, his coven close behind him. With a nasty, anticipatory grin, Jacob fell back, putting his arms around the still-snuffling Renesmee as Benjamin came to stand before her friends, moving more quickly than the human eye could see. To Sam and Dean, the arrogant leech had simply appeared in front of them; they jumped a little, but didn't back down even as he smirked at them both.

"I see that you are just as foolish as your brother," Benjamin said carelessly to Sam. "You don't seem to realize how misplaced your confidence is."

"Well, it does take one to know one, doesn't it, bitch?" Dean shot right back.

Benjamin just sneered. "Very well, _human_. I promised before travelling here that I would keep my appetite in check—but my patience with you is at an end. I thought it would be rude to eat the Cullens' guests—but now I see I'll be doing them a _favor_."

"Oh, you wanna eat something, fuckface?" Dean demanded, and then lewdly grabbed his crotch. "Eat _this_!"

Benjamin's lip curled, and Leah could see the cruel anticipation filling his eyes. "Oh, you will be eaten, Dean, and in your entirety," he purred. "Now all that remains is to decide how to do it: eat Sam and make you watch, or simply kill you first for being such an insufferable little upstart."

The hairs on the back of Leah's neck rose (and she wasn't entirely sure if it was due to her own anxiety or because Cas was behind her); Benjamin had just pissed Dean and Sam off royally.

"If you do _anything_ to my brother—" Sam spat.

Dean cut him off. "Don't bother, Sammy—that'll give them the impression that we're _scared_."

Benjamin's eyebrow raised, and Leah saw all of the others grinning nastily—_eagerly_—at the tableau. "You don't even have the good sense to—"

"To what?" Dean shot back. "To be all scared that you're gonna crush us, see us driven before you, hear the lamentations of our women, yadda yadda? Well, we're _not_. You know why, you arrogant jackass?" he asked scathingly. "'Cause we've both faced down shit a lot meaner and nastier and _bigger_ than you. _You_ aren't the top of the food chain, you douchebag."

Leah was keeping a close watch on Benjamin, but even so she could see out of the corner of her eye that the vampires were all looking just as scornful as he was.

"Something in the world more powerful than us?" he scoffed.

"Damn straight—and they were all a bunch of dicks, too."

"That is funny, Dean, I must say," Benjamin said derisively. "Well, I'll indulge you—I may as well let you live in your little fantasy world for the remainder of your short, pointless life. Just what _did_ you do when you faced down this supposed fearsome beast?"

Dean's gaze was defiant and furious as he stared back into the red eyes that bored into him with savage intensity, and he simply replied, "I shanked his sorry ass—like this."

And with one sharp motion, Dean thrust the blade forward while everyone watched, and they were already starting to laugh as Benjamin didn't even bother dodging—_and the knife went in._

There was a strange, grinding _crunch_ as the angelic blade found its mark and sank up to the hilt in his chest with a burst of blue sparks, and at the sound, everyone went still with shock—but Benjamin most of all.

There was a split second where Leah could see in his face that he realized he'd just been stabbed…and then he just froze. No…he _solidified_. Her wolf ears could hear the minute crackling sounds spreading across his body, and his skin was going dull, lifeless, the sparkle fading and turning gray, but he didn't move, just stood perfectly still like a statue, his arms spread wide, his face fixed in that expression of near comical surprise, only he was _cracking_, she could hear it, radiating outward from where the blade protruded from his chest.

"Benjamin?" His female sounded confused, anxious, but he didn't answer. He didn't move. Only when Dean, his jaw clenched with triumph, yanked the sword free from his chest, did he totter for a moment…and then, almost in slow-motion, he toppled backwards onto the hard floor beneath him, and with a hideous crash, simply smashed into a thousand pieces.

The stunned, horrified silence that followed was suddenly broken by a shriek of "_Benjamin!_" and two other shouts of "_No!_" as the rest of the Egyptian coven came dashing towards his body, running so fast that Sam and Dean jumped when to their eyes they suddenly seemed to just appear in front of them. They crouched on the ground at their feet, scrabbling furiously at the pieces of the shattered corpse, licking them as if trying to use their venom as glue to reassemble a broken piece of pottery. But even as they frantically scraped and scrambled, Tia shrieking like a banshee the whole while, and the crowds behind them crying out with dismay, the pieces were just crumbling, his clothes deflating obscenely as the chunks of vampire simply disintegrated into so much dull gray dust.

And when the gray powder was all that was left, blowing across the floor in the breeze, Amun and Kebi just stared down at it in mute horror…but then Tia's voice rose in an earsplitting wail. "_Benjamin!_" she yowled. "He—he's _dead_! No! _Benjamin!_"

But then her face twisted into a snarl, and she whirled, her eyes burning and mad with hate as she looked at Dean, who was near redolent with smugness, and she leapt into a crouch and howled, "You _killed_ my mate, you filthy _human_! _You murderer!_"

It was too fast for Dean to see, but Leah could, saw the way she crouched low, her teeth bared, and she sprang, and Leah moved to leap between them, to save him, when suddenly electricity seemed to crackle through the air and she gasped and froze where she stood…just in time to see something she never even thought was possible: a vampire clumsily falling flat on the ground. Tia was sprawled on the floor, her jaw slack with shock, blocked before she had ever even touched Dean. But it was not Leah who had stopped her.

It was Castiel.

He had moved, faster than the humans could see, and faster than werewolves or vampires could see; he had simply _appeared_ between Tia and Dean before the vampire even knew what had happened. She had run right into him, headfirst, and the angel's tiny frame hadn't budged. She just bounced right off him, and had fallen square on her ass.

She gawped up at him; Cas just stared down at her, his face hard, and to someone who didn't know him well, his expression had barely changed. But Leah did know him, and could see that it had, and the cold anger that was radiating from his impossibly blue eyes made her shiver in spite of herself.

Tia stared up at him, as did everyone else—until her face suddenly came alive with rage and she screeched in fury and threw herself at Cas.

The angel didn't move. He simply held out his hand over her, and Leah felt the air suddenly charge—and Tia burst into flames.

Even as her pain-filled howls rent the air, Leah could hear the terrified gasps and screams from the crowd—from the _vampires_ in the crowd—as they watched Tia burn, her shrieks dwindling to nothing, the air filling with thick, oily purple smoke, all while Cas just stood over her without saying a word.

It didn't take long; vampires burned like tinder, and soon there was nothing but ash strewn across the pristine dance floor, to mingle with the dusty remnants of her mate.

Amun and Kebi were staring up at Cas with a mix of shock and fear, and then they scrabbled wildly and gracelessly away from him, running to hide amongst the now horrified crowds of onlookers.

Leah looked at Sam, who was slowly starting to smile, and then at Dean, who was already grinning hugely, and all three of them moved to stand next to Cas, who regarded all the angry, terrified vampires and wolves looking back at him with his own cold and pitiless fury.

"You—you _killed_ them!" came a sudden, disbelieving shriek from one of the Amazons.

"You _murdered_ them!" Jasper bellowed in outrage.

Cas narrowed his eyes. "I defended my friends from that creature's attempts to harm them; that is not murder," he said evenly, his voice low and tight with barely-contained wrath. "Murder is the forty-seven defenseless humans with lives and loved ones that were killed and drained of blood by the sixteen vampires that you invited here."

Leah felt Sam and Dean tense even as she did herself, in the sudden, heavy silence that followed Cas's words.

"That—_that_ wasn't murder!" Jasper shouted, and god_dammit_ but Leah wanted to smash his face in for that.

Cas skewered Jasper with his gaze, and he seemed to shrink where he stood. "Even if it wasn't, then what would you call it if the vampires Randall, Charles, Makenna, Zafrina, Senna, and Kachiri had succeeded in their plans to stalk, kill, and eat my friend Dean Winchester after he left the wedding?" he asked, his voice flinty.

"_What?_"

Leah could find no humor in the fact that she _and_ the brothers spoke in unison this time.

Jasper's mouth was hanging open, working, but no words were coming out, and when Sam started forward, his angelic blade clenched in his white-knuckled fist, Alice cowered behind him even as he looked about to run.

"I should stake every last one of you murdering bastards!" Sam snarled.

"On what grounds?"

It was Bella. She was starting forward, her fists clenched and her face alight with righteous anger, and even as she spoke to Sam, Leah saw she was staring hard at Cas. "What right do _any_ of you have to hurt _any_ of us? You call it murder—do you call it murder when you kill a cow for a steak, or a pig for a ham sandwich? Is it murder to eat eggs for breakfast?"

"Are you seriously calling me a _pork chop_, you dizzy bitch?" Dean demanded in outrage.

"I'm calling it the natural order of things," Bella sneered, her nose going up in the air. "You look down at my kind simply for _surviving_. We are all _vampires_, and just because my family makes the choice and sacrifice to not drink human blood, that doesn't mean we're going to force everyone else to do the same! This lifestyle is not for all vampires—it is difficult and near-impossible for some! It's not _murder_ when they eat humans, you useless clod, it's the _food chain_, and if you really had such a problem with it, you wouldn't have gorged yourself at the buffet table."

Both Sam and Dean looked like they were about to explode, but Bella was still going—Leah knew she was impossible to shut up when she was building up a good head of steam. As she turned away from her in disgust, her gaze roved over all the indignant vampires who were nodding in agreement with her tirade, and the wolves who, despite looking uncomfortable, were saying nothing—but then her stomach clenched when there, on the outskirts, she spotted Charlie Swan…and he was looking at his daughter as though he'd never seen her before.

"Murder—how can you even apply your stupid human laws and standards to _us_?" Bella continued to rant. "_We're_ not human! Barely any of you even know we _exist_! It doesn't matter that we started as humans—we _aren't_ human anymore, we aren't part of your little _society_, and we are outside and above your man-made _law_! You have a stupid 'one-size-fits-all' model for morality! You have _no right_ to judge us, and _no right_ to kill us!"

"I have _every_ right."

Bella quavered when Castiel spoke again, but she remained stupidly defiant even in the face of his icy disdain.

"You are _not_ above humans," he continued, and Leah could tell he was getting angry again, "and you are most certainly not above God's will. Humans are God's most beloved creations—you are nothing but soulless abominations who threw away His most precious gift to you."

"If humans were so special," Bella replied arrogantly, "then why did God make them so weak and slow and clumsy and fragile and _flawed_?"

It seemed impossible that the motionless angel's spine could go rigid, and yet it did just that, and Leah saw the flare of that same cold fire in his eyes, felt the crackle of energy that seemed to ripple over his skin. She surreptitiously stepped a few inches away from him.

"I'm tired of you telling me that humans are better—I left my humanity behind a long time ago, and now I am _this_—a powerful vampire, beautiful and immortal, and I have the ability to protect all of my friends and family from things like _you_," Bella declared, stepping forward with her arms spread dramatically. "You may have caught us off guard once, but not anymore." Her eyes flicked to Sam, and she gave him a triumphant smirk as she gestured to all the vampires and wolves, who slowly began to rally behind her. "You said my power was worthless—well, see how worthless it is now, you—"

Cas had had enough. He raised his arm, two fingers extended, and flicked his wrist.

Bella's victory speech was cut short with an abrupt and painful yell, and she flew backwards as if she'd been jerked offstage by a cane. She collided with Edward with a stony _thud_, and they both went down gracelessly on the floor.

Cas glared out at the assembled monsters, who were once again frozen in shock, and Leah cringed back and shied away from him again when the air once more _sizzled_, radiating outward from where he stood in a wave of burning sound and invisible power and once again sending the vampires and wolves flinching away with cries of pain.

"You've said enough," Cas growled.

Bella just gaped for a moment from where she was sprawled on the ground, her eyes wide and her mouth working uselessly, and then she scrambled to her feet to cling to Edward. "What—what _are_ you?" she shrieked, terrified.

Castiel stood motionless as he looked out at the crowds, his eyes fathomless and remote.

"I'm an Angel of the Lord."

Silence. Then, a few nervous titters, hushed murmurs of incredulity, and finally Edward spoke aloud. "You—you're no angel!" he said loudly, his pompous tone not hiding the tremor in his voice.

"It's—that's _impossible_!" Carlisle's voice was hoarse with disbelief.

"Tell the truth!" Edward demanded shakily. "_What are you?_"

"Dude," Dean said scornfully, "he just full-on smote that bitch, and you're gonna stand there and tell me he's not an angel?"

Cas looked at Dean with furrowed brows. "I didn't smite her, Dean," he said earnestly. "I just set her on fire—"

Dean cut him off. "Shut up, Cas—you're ruining the moment."

Cas shut up. Dean, though, kept talking. "Well, you believe whatever you want to, but _I_ can promise you that he is an angel—wings and everything. And these—" he hefted the blade in his hand, "are angelic swords, guaranteed to kill angels, demons, and everything in between. So," he said, twirling it in his hand like a baton and grinning out at the crowds as they flinched back at the sudden motion, "if any of you dickwads care to debate the issue, come on up. I'm sure Cas here will be happy to give you another free demonstration."

Nobody moved. Leah couldn't help but sneer nastily out at the huddled vampires, all doing their best to hide behind each other.

Sam gave a rude snort. "Don't bother, Dean," he sneered. "These cowards only fight when they're sure they'll win."

"Well, you know me—I'll fight in any situation," Dean answered, and then his grin took on a feral quality. "But I do admit that I like it best when I know I'll win. I think maybe you're right. Maybe we should just toast all of these freaks right here and now—starting with Quil," he said, his voice suddenly hard, and he leveled a fulminating glare at the still cake-covered Quil, who was standing in a knot of frightened werewolves and looked torn between wanting to charge and wanting to run.

"No!" The all jumped in surprise—and turned to see a determined-looking Claire fighting her way free of her mother to stand at the front of the crowd.

"Claire?" Leah asked.

Dean looked bewildered. "You want us to let _Uncle Creepy_ live? After everything he's done to you?" he asked in disbelief.

"The werewolves protect their tribe," Claire said firmly. "Even Quil…and he's never hurt me. I don't want him imprinted on me—but I don't want him dead, either. And the Cullens…" She looked at them rather distastefully, but went on, saying, "Well, they don't hurt anyone. They're creeps, but they don't try to kill people—they don't really deserve to die for being snobs."

Leah blinked down at her—they all did—and Claire's resolute little face broke into a small smile. "I think they should get _The Princess Bride_ ending," she said, a tiny twinkle in her eye. "A long life alone with their cowardice."

Sam gave a hoot of laughter, and Leah couldn't help but giggle. Dean saluted Claire with his sword, smiling and nodding in approval, and said, "Okay, Claire—'to the pain' it is."

"You hear that, douchebags?" Sam called. "The little _flawed_ human here just saved all of your sorry asses—_with_ her humanity. She showed you more mercy than you would have shown us—and certainly more than you deserve."

"Especially you, _Quil_," Dean growled. "I won't kill you, 'cause Claire asked nicely, but from here on out, you keep your filthy paws off her, you hear me?" And then he was grinning nastily. "And now you know that there are angels watching over you—and if any of us hear that you so much as lay a finger on her, he'll smite your pedo ass."

Quil's face was twitching, twisting, but Claire was looking at Dean with something near adoration. "Thank you, Dean," she breathed, and then rounded on Quil with an expression of vindictive delight. "You hear that, Quil? You stop running off my guy friends, you stay out of my house, and I'm _not_ going to marry you!"

"Damn right she's not!" Dean shouted over Quil's pathetic wail. "And as for all the rest of you sorry bitches?" he said, rounding on the crowds, who shrank back as he brandished his sword at them. "Me and my brother here? We're _hunters_—all we do is hunt down and kill inhuman pieces of shit like you."

"So all you red-eyed murderers?" Sam said. "We're giving you a freebie now, 'cause we were just here for the wedding. And anyway, with Cas here we're on the Divine side of things, so we'll forgive you this time." His flippant tone turned steely. "But now we know what you are, who you are, _where_ you are, and most importantly—we know how to kill you." He bared his teeth in a grin. "You _all_ are next on our list."

Dean smirked. "So, you can adopt the all-you-can-eat wildlife diet like your friends here, or you'd better pray that you never meet up with us again—'cause it'll be the last thing you ever see."

And then he turned his back on them all, looking at Leah, then Sam and Cas. "Come on, guys—let's blow."

"Yeah—I think we're done here," Sam replied. "Come on, Cas."

As they turned, facing the crowd, Leah saw them all: She saw the angry, disbelieving, and utterly terrified vampires. She saw the wolves, looking small and useless and cowed. She saw Jacob, and he was with Renesmee and the rest of the Cullens, grouped together in a bitter, humiliated huddle.

And over to the side, she saw Embry—he was standing now, and he was frightened too, but he was on his feet and when he met Leah's eyes, he gave her a small, wistful smile. He had his hand on Claire's shoulder, and she was beaming and gave Leah a big thumbs-up. And standing next to them was Charlie; she thought she saw tears in his eyes, but he managed a shaky smile. And even Emmett and Rose were there, jumpy and nervous, but Emmett saluted her all the same.

But they were the exception; the rest of them were nothing bunch of filthy hypocrites and murderers who did nothing but put others down to make themselves look better…and she couldn't resist one last parting shot, because she didn't give a rat's ass what they thought about her, and if she had her way, she'd never lay eyes on any of them again—because now she was _free_.

"You know, you were right about one thing—about me," she called, and when she saw she had their attention, she smiled. "We four?" she said, gesturing to her friends—her _real_ family. "We're gonna have so much sex when we get back home."

"Hell, yeah!" Dean beamed at her, and Sam laughed, and then she winked at the rather alarmed Cas before threading her arm through his elbow, and then with a sudden whoosh of feathers, they were gone.

* * *

**Author's Note:** And here we are, finished yet not finished, because there is an Epilogue to be had! I uploaded it at the same time I did the final chapter, so be sure and check it out.

Minor note—Bella's monologue about vampirism and morality may seem to some like a bit of an exaggeration of her canon behavior or me stretching her views on the subject. I assure you, it is not. If you go to the Twilight Lexicon and find the "Personal Correspondence #12" link, you will find a very long discussion from Stephenie Meyer herself wherein she lays out exactly why vampires are above and beyond human laws and morals and why humans are nothing but cattle to most vampires, but adds that they really aren't all that wrong for believing it because they are that much better than us, after all.

So no, I was not exaggerating. And the reason that infuriated Castiel so much is because Meyer has a very unfortunate habit of almost straight-up quoting a certain "Supernatural" character quite a bit in her novels—with all of her anti-human comments, she routinely espouses the views of none other than Lucifer, who Castiel is not all that fond of.


	12. Epilogue: Bad Reputation

**Author's Note:** Well, here's the end—a little epilogue to tie things up. We hope you've enjoyed our cracky little crossover and our cracky little ship. The title and the soundtrack for this segment is "Bad Reputation" by Joan Jett.

**Spoilers:** Spoilers for _Twilight_, _New Moon_, _Eclipse_, _Breaking Dawn_, and all six seasons of "Supernatural."

**Disclaimer: "Supernatural" is the property of Kripke Enterprises and Warner Bros. Television. The Twilight Saga is the property of Stephenie Meyer and Little, Brown and Co. No copyright infringement is intended, and no profit is being made from this work.**

* * *

**Epilogue: Bad Reputation**

Dean sighed and flopped down into the chair by the window. Sam approached him with two beers in his hand, still frosty from the fridge, and Dean took one gratefully. His brother joined him, and after twisting the tops off, Dean said, "Well, here's to Leah—now an official member of Team Free Will."

Sam bounced his eyebrows in agreement as they clinked the necks of their bottles together and each took a long drink.

It was just the two of them in their room; only their years of sharing such a setup could make it as comfortable as it was. After Cas had popped them back to their motel on the outskirts of the city, Leah had seized them both in back-breaking hugs and planted appropriately wolfish—excited, wet, and tongue-y—kisses on the two of them. Then, flushed and happy and nearly tearful with relief and joy, she had said that she was going to splurge a little with her first fake credit card and get her own room for the evening. She said the boys could both have their own beds, and she was going to take the opportunity for a nice, long, girly night for herself, in celebration of her newly-won freedom.

They'd sent her off with a pair of heartfelt smiles (and a pat on the ass from Dean), and after thanking Cas for his help, they'd gone inside to crash out after a long and eventful day. It was barely 4:00 in the afternoon, but it felt like the wee hours of the morning, what with how tired they were. All they had wanted was to do was get out of their itchy tuxedoes and back into their jeans, and then just chill.

Dean closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the cushions of his chair. Sam chewed thoughtfully on his lip for a while before he said, "You do know, Dean, that we're probably gonna have those supercharged vamps on our tail now. I mean, since they know we can kill 'em, they're gonna be out for our heads."

Dean gave a small, dry chuckle without opening his eyes. "Yeah—but I think the fact that we _can_ kill 'em will make 'em think twice about tangling with us. I mean, you saw them, Sammy," he said, looking up at last. "They were all about attacking us when they thought we didn't stand a chance, but once they figured out that we did, they weren't so hot on the idea."

Sam gave a rude snort. "So, they're both dicks _and_ pussies." He took another drink before musing, "Still, though—between the angelic blades we've been collecting in the trunk over the past few years, and now Leah, free to do what she wants—and Cas, of course—I think we're pretty well protected and ready for whatever comes after us."

Dean smirked. "And they're not the worst things that have come after us before, anyway. I wouldn't worry. We'll handle it, like we always do."

He dropped his head back again—but then opened one eye and slowly sat up, looking to the side with a raised eyebrow.

Having been living out of motels for practically their entire lives, they knew everything that went on in them, all the rules and quirks and idiosyncrasies of sharing space with strangers. And so when they heard the steady, rhythmic thumping against the wall adjoining the neighboring suite, they knew exactly what was going on.

"Heh." Dean smirked over at his brother.

Sam generally preferred to ignore whatever they might hear in their motel rooms, but with his voyeuristic brother, that was impossible. "Little early, isn't it?" he asked, rolling his eyes.

Dean shrugged. "Hey, man, Afternoon Delight." He lay his head back down, cradling his beer between his thighs—before raising his hands to start _conducting_ to the sounds reverberating through their wall.

Sam couldn't help the laugh that escaped him, even as he winced. "Dude—how would you like knowing that someone was doing that while you were gettin' busy?"

"Well, I'd like to think I was doing a better job of it than them over there," Dean retorted. "They're hardly making any noise at all."

As if he'd summoned it, through the wall came a long, low, feminine moan, and Dean made a satisfied noise. "Atta boy," he said, raising his beer to the wall.

Sam just shook his head. "So," he said after a moment, studiously pretending not to hear the ever-more vigorous thumping and squeaking from next door, "are we just gonna go about our business and wait for these new vamps to come for us?"

Dean shrugged. "Don't see why I should bust my ass on open warfare. We'll hunt, like we always do, and we'll take whatever comes at us between gigs. We run across one of them, we'll call Leah."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "I know she'll want a chance to get her teeth into one of them, even more than before, now that she can do whatever she wants and doesn't have to take their crap anymore."

"Bastards," Dean declared. "They have it coming." Then he raised his eyebrows at the sound of the escalating cries on the other side of the wall. "And they're not the only ones," he said, grinning.

Sam was not smiling; he could only stare at the wall, his mouth agape. "Ah—Dean—I—I think that's _Leah_."

The smile slid off Dean's face. "…What?"

Now they were both listening, only it wasn't funny at all anymore, and when the next shout came, they clearly heard it, a low, guttural and _familiar_ alto.

"That isn't her," Dean said firmly.

"I'm pretty sure it is, Dean," Sam answered.

"Come on, man—no way!" Dean was shaking his head. "Give her some credit—we barely got back half an hour ago! What—you think right after we came in here she ran out and picked up some dude off the street?"

The realization struck them both at the same time, right as the thumping against the wall began to take on a frenzied pace, and they could only stare at each other with slowly dawning horror.

"No…"

"She _wouldn't_…would she?" Dean sounded desperate to hear a contradiction.

Sam shook his head, whether in uncertainty or denial he didn't know, but it didn't matter, because at that very moment, they heard through the wall what was unmistakably Leah's voice cry out, "_Hallelujah!_"—and then every single light in their room exploded.

They leapt out of their seats as showers of sparks rained down on them, and they stared at each other for a split second, before Dean suddenly gave a shout of disgust and began batting wildly at his clothes where the sparks had fallen.

"Aw, _Jesus_, Sam—we just got spooged by an angel!"

* * *

**Author's Note:** And…scene.

Man, I am sad to see it done, but happy to have it posted and finished at the same time. You all know how it is. First off, a TON of thank yous—thank you to our two betas for not only being spectacularly thorough editors, but also for being an awesome test audience. Thank you for putting up with our fussing and our questions and doing it all with (what I hope was) a smile on your face.

I, Das Mervin, want to thank Mrs. Hyde for indulging me and letting me run wild with my crackship—while I had the idea, _she_ was a huge part of writing this, so I'm glad you were nice and very happy that you had as much fun as I did with this project.

And finally, a huge thank you to everyone who commented and reviewed. Your words are what keep us inspired and keep us writing and keep us going. You have our sincerest gratitude.


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Supernatural, Twilight, Friendship, Humor