Madame Mervin, Hammer of Sues (das_mervin) wrote,
Madame Mervin, Hammer of Sues
das_mervin

TWC: Chapter 7 - High Crimes and Misdemeanors

Title: The Wedding Crashers (7/12)
Author: Das Mervin and Mrs. Hyde
Betas: gehayi and kermit_thefrog
Fandom: Twilight/Supernatural
Rating: R for language, themes, violence, and sexual innuendo
Word Count: 8,285
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: 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.” And I do feel a need to say that, even if you aren’t interested in our soundtrack all that much? You really need to give this a listen, or at least look up the lyrics. This song is pretty much the goddamn Twilight anthem, I am so not kidding.
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 7HIGH 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, unsurprisingly, 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.

“Goddamn,” 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.” In true Meyer fashion, Bella and her lovely daughter took it totally out of context (and college-boy Sammy spotted it, hence his disgust). The basic meaning of the poem is, “Beauty and infatuation with it is shallow and will fade, so marry the unique but not hot chick, because she is a good and virtuous person and will be a good and faithful wife.” 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.

“Love built on beauty, soon as beauty, dies.” Well, because the vampires are immortal and eternally beautiful, that means their love will never die, right?!

God, I hate Meyer-logic. And again, Hyde wishes to say that all of the ideas for the wedding in there? Were mine. (Well, she picked the poem, but I totally intended them to do a reading from something.) So don’t blame her if you puked.

Oh, and just in case you assumed I just made the titles of those movies up…

Fat Guy Goes Nutzoid
The Ghost in the Invisible Bikini

…I didn’t.

And just on a completely silly note, this is what is now in the guestbook.



Yes, it is Enochian. You read it from right to left. *grin*

ETA 2/08/2011: We inspired some fanart!


Castiel -hearts- Bee by *sylvacoer on deviantART

Ah, the beautiful friendship of an angel and his bee. Thank you so much, sylvacoer! We are forever in your debt!

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Tags: fanfic, fic: the wedding crashers, public post, ship: leah/castiel, twilight series
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