I've not paid much attention to SPN fic until recently, which is how I managed to overlook zannes until the last few days. I had bookmarked a link to her "Pagan Gods" series, which taunted me with the premise that when Dean and Sam killed the winter gods in "A Very Supernatural Christmas", they in turn became the gods of spring. And the latest parts of the series are a crossover with Firefly. How can that not entice? So I read it, and there's a lot of good there, and with the whole mythology of the series worked out, the Wincest kind of works. I'm looking forward to the next bits of the Firefly arc. But that's not why I'm posting and reccing.

You see, zannes has her fic nice and organized here, so I went to investigate. There's a lot of fun to be had by reading a lot of her stories, but what I really want to rec is her John/Illyria series.

Yes, that's right. John Winchester and Illyria/Fred from Angel.

John is her latest Qwa-Hazon, after Wesley's death and a sojourn in Hell, bound to Illyria more or less for eternity. And it's done with all the humor and accuracy of characterization that seems to be in the rest of her fic.

I haven't even finished reading all the different stories in the series and I want to rec it. The voices are perfect. Here's the passage that got me laughing so hard I knew I had to rec it:



“Things seem very cozy ‘tween you two,” Ellen suggested quietly, finding it easier to get information out of the former Old One than she had thought.

“He is my Qua’Hazon. His role is to serve me,” Illyria said with a lizard-like blink, as if that explained everything.

“So,” Ellen began drolly, “just like you’re married then.” She casually swiped at the counter with the dishrag, asking pointedly, “What other things is your…Qwuan-Hizzen responsible for?”

“Qua’Hazon,” Illyria repeated, as if to a dim-witted underling. “My Qua’Hazon is most high amongst my servants. He has the honor of bathing me after battle and keeping my weapons ready for combat. When I once again rule this world, he shall serve at my right hand and have a harem of attendants to aid him.” Illyria cast an assessing eye on Ellen behind the bar. “You are not too old for pleasure. He may have you, if he wishes.”

Ellen’s jaw dropped and she stared in mute amazement at the Demon-God sitting so innocently before her, as if she hadn’t just suggested Ellen serve as John Winchester’s fuck-buddy – like that was even a possibility. Hell would not only have to freeze over, but Bobby would have to dance the Waltz of the Flowers in a purple tutu before that even entered the scope of maybe.

Illyria ignored her, swiveling her head to study John across the way, admiring the play of muscles under her Guide’s shirt as it tightened across his shoulders – a servant was a reflection of its master and John functioned as an adequate representation of Illyria’s prowess.

“But you are too old for breeding purposes,” Illyria continued on blandly. “The rest of his court must be far younger. I am told you have a daughter. Your stock seems strong so she may be considered.”

“Now wait a damn minute…” Ellen began, looking ready to crawl over the bar to get her hands on the Demon-King taking up stool space when John suddenly appeared, tugging the stool with Illyria still on it out of Ellen’s reach.

“What did you do, Illyria?” John asked calmly, rubbing his hand on the small of her back to keep her still. He kept Ellen in his sights out of the corner of his eye, making sure she wasn’t reaching for a weapon or readying a punch.

“I merely extended an offer for her and her offspring to join your harem,” Illyria told him, amusement flashing over her still features. “I do not think she finds the offer to mate with you very enticing.”

If it were still possible for him to have a heart attack, John was certain he would be having one now. As it was, he was praying for a brain aneurysm to take him away before Ellen got her hands on him. John slipped between Illyria’s parted knees to stand face-to-face with her, completely ignoring Ellen in his frustration with his pet pain-in-his-ass. He didn’t know whether to give in to his urge to throttle her or just to collapse in humiliation - both were high on his list for some point later today. The intimacy of their positioning didn’t escape Ellen’s notice and she didn’t know whether to laugh or to spray them with a hose.

Dear Lord, John Winchester was fucked.

“God-dammit, Illyria,” John pleaded angrily, his face reddening. “Stop trying to breed me!”

“You cannot seem to manage on your own,” Illyria interjected with a nearly smug expression on her still face.

“I hope Bobby got this introductory offer or I might just sue for sexual discrimination,” Ellen said, biting her lower lip to keep from laughing at John’s appalled expression. “Does this offer come with a dental plan?”


Go. Read. Laugh.