“Crows don’t take from you,” Dean said. “They give your soul wings.”

“My eye was caught by movement from behind the automaton. Just a flicker, but my heart clenched with surprise and fear, and I tapped Dean on the arm, pointing. “Something’s over there.”He followed my finger, and we both saw the flicker of red on the unbroken gray brick of the foundry walls.“Son of a bitch,” Dean growled, jamming his hand in his pocket and pulling out his switchblade. “Hey!” he bellowed at the moving shadow. “Hey, you!”“Dean …,” I started, thinking that perhaps shouting at the figure wasn’t the best idea.“I see you!” Dean shouted. “No point in hiding.”“Dean, we don’t know what it is,” I whispered, worried that if he made a move, whoever or whatever lurked beyond the automaton would take it badly. Dean shook his head.“Relax, princess. It’s a kid.” He advanced on the shadow. “Aren’t you?”“Up yours, mister!” the shadow shouted back. I pressed a hand over my mouth, both to stifle a laugh and from relief. To find another person in this wasteland was ten times more unexpected than finding a creature like the nightjars and ghouls that populated Lovecraft’s underground.“Say,” Dean drawled, brows drawing together. “I know you, kid.”“I know your mother!” the kid retorted. “And she has some disappointing things to say about you.”

“Dean flashed me a smile that promised rule-breaking and breathlessness.”

“You can't give up on me. If you give up, then I'm going to break into a million pieces.I'm here. I'll give you everything I've got.”

“Didn't know she was spoken for.""You do now", Jack snarled. "And the next time you try to pass off your bloody Fae nectar on a human, I'll shove your little horned head up your arse and hold it there until you stop twitching.”

“Do you know who I am, you sodding barn animal?" he hissed. The publican gurgled. "I'm Jack fucking Winter." Jack said, releasing him with a push that rattled clean glasses on the bar back.”

“Sometimes, there was no getting over it. Sometimes, you lived with the empty place inside of you until you imploded on it, loss as singularity, or until the empty place expanded and hollowed out the rest of you so thoroughly you became the walking dead, a ghost in your own life.”