Sons of Lawrence #15
Summary: Sons of Anarchy meets Supernatural. In this AU, the Winchesters run the most notorious biker gang in Lawrence. They traffic illegal drugs, weapons, and anything else that makes them money and keeps them on top.
Miss the beginning?
Characters in this chapter: Dean Winchester, John Winchester, Crowley, Jo Harvelle, Meg Masters, Patrick, Jodi Mills, Mary Winchester, James Novak, Sam Winchester
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader
Word Count: 2,764
Warnings: Attempted murder, blood and injury, conspiracy, language, casual use of illegal drugs, angst, fluff, medical jargon.
Author’s Note: This series isn’t going to be light and fluffy. It will include explicit language, explicit sexual content, casual use of illegal drugs, explicit canon typical violence. GIF credit [x][x] Other GIF from Google.
Crowley knew from the moment Jo left his office that he was going to frame her for the murder of John Winchester. He just had to make sure to execute his plan perfectly. Since Jo had gotten her perky ass kicked out of COLT, Crowley didn’t want to act too soon. He wanted the Winchesters -and guest- to start to feel safe, as if all of their problems had disappeared with the death of Gadreel.
Only one other person knew the entirety of Crowley’s plan; Patrick. He was tall, dark, deathly handsome, and had a thick accent that made all the ladies -and a few of the men- swoon. Patrick flirted shamelessly with the petite blonde, told her about his rough childhood in Cyprus and the UK, even played the sympathy card by telling her how his parents died when he was a teenager. Jo was eating out of his hand and Crowley knew Patrick wouldn’t let him down.
Several days later, Crowley decided it was time. Patrick and Jo were going at it like rabbits and everyone except John had just pulled away on their bikes. He sat back for several long moments, making sure the sounds of the loud bikes had drifted away before Crowley pushed off the stolen bike that was sitting just out of view. Dark leather gloves were pulled on as he strode up the driveway, disappearing silently into the house just as a car drove past.
With a cup in his hand and his nose buried in the newspaper, John walked into the kitchen; only stopping because Crowley cleared his throat.
“Hello, John,” Crowley rasped, pulling a loosely-wrapped bundle from his pocket.