rcngades

[rcngades]

peace of mind | team free will

wcywcrd​:

sam swallowed, eyes running over the information listed in the article jo had pointed out. she was right, as she often was: this was probably the work of a banshee, and that meant eileen was almost definitely close behind it.

“is eileen some sort of banshee slayer?” sparrow asked, stirring a borderline alarming amount of sugar into her coffee before searching through the small ceramic dish at the center of the table for the french vanilla creamers. ava plucked a few from another dish and passed them over to sparrow without needing to ask, earning her a beaming smile from her friend. 

“sort of, actually. a banshee killed eileen’s parents. she’s an expert at hunting them,” sam said quietly, tearing his eyes away from the article. he looked up, clearing his throat, and nodded. “jo’s right, this is how we find eileen.”

“how did you…? oh,” sparrow’s cheeks turned pink and she spilled some cream into her coffee. “your vision, right?” she asked, keeping her voice quiet as she spoke; of course, visions were the least insane thing they were talking about, all things considered; anyone who overheard about banshees was just as likely to be freaked out as if they heard them talking about psychic visions, or pretty much anything else that they tended to discuss.

“yeah,” sam cleared his throat again, busying himself with scanning the menu and trying not to give away how fast his heart was beating. he caught a glimpse of castiel looking at him with a confused expression, eyebrows knit together and lips tugging downward, but nevertheless, sam was relieved when the angel didn’t bring up whatever he was picking up on, seeming to also gather that sam wouldn’t want him to do that.

“but why would people think she couldn’t…hunt a banshee?” becky asked, voice dropping to a whisper as she hit the last three words of her sentence.

“because unfortunately, jo is right; a lot of hunters are old, conservative, white, and male, and not only is eileen none of those things, but she’s also deaf. she’s an amazing person and an amazing hunter, but people can be pretty ableist,” sam said, anger tinging his voice as he thought of the fact that hunters— and anyone else— might judge someone based on their physical abilities, his anger growing even more at the thought of anyone doing that to eileen. not that she couldn’t take care of herself; honestly, she could probably take care of anyone who messed with her faster and better than sam could.

“wouldn’t that make her like…amazing at hunting banshees?” becky asked, clearly confused. sam smiled at her.

“yeah, actually. she’s the best there is.”

“so we find the banshee, and we find eileen…oh my gosh,” becky’s eyes widened, and she sat up straighter in her seat, suddenly barely containing her excitement. “does this mean we get to go on a hunt?!”

jo chanced a glance up at sam and offered an apologetic smile. her eyes trailed over to ava beside her. she tilted to the side, lightly bumping her shoulder against the psychic’s and sent her a look that gently asked, are you okay? jo still struggled to cope with what she���d learned of their future; she couldn’t imagine how it was for sam and ava, to have seen it, to have lived through and died in it. the constant reminders couldn’t be easy, either.

sipping from her coffee, anna searched the angel hive-mind for any clues on eileen leahy. she didn’t often do this omniscience thing; it felt invasive, even if no one knew she was doing it. more than that, however, it was a headache to dip into the constant chatter of the angels. even now, pressure started to build behind her eyelids at the undying level of monotonous voices reporting on one thing or another. at least it was easy to slip in and out undetected.

“she’s at a retirement home,” anna said, when she finally found the information. “that’s where the deaths happened, right?”

jo looked back down to the newspaper and nodded. she didn’t question how anna knew that. in fact, she’d stopped asking questions once they officially introduced angels into their daily lives. “dean, i need a pen.”

dean scoffed. “you say that like i just carry pens around, joanna beth.”

“call me that again and see what happens. give me the damn pen.”

dean reached into his pocket and gave her the damn pen. he watched as she scrawled the retirement center’s address onto the palm of her hand. he looked at becky and claire, and felt something warm and fond grow to prominence in his chest. “congratulations, ladies,” he announced, “you’re going on your first hunt.”

“realistically, there’s no need for all of us to go on the hunt,” pam pointed out. “if anything, it’ll be a lot harder to come up with a cover story for an entire group lurking around a retirement home. some of us need to stay behind.”

“i’ll be part of that team,” anna offered. she knew the girls wanted to go, so she wasn’t going to get in the way of that. “i can stay at whatever motel we choose and figure out where we go from here.”

“and we can have a back-up team,” claire suggested. “you know, just in case eileen gives team A the slip.”

“we’re trying to convince her, not kidnap her,” jo pointed out.

“is there a difference?” claire joked.

[rcngades]

peace of mind | team free will

wcywcrd​:

sam laughed, head falling back against the seat at dean’s accusation. “consider this payback for the prank war of ‘98,” he said, still grinning. “all this time, i’ve been biding my time for this very moment.”

“what happened in the prank war of ‘98?” becky asked, giggling. sam stared out the windshield, adopting a glazed, mock-horrified expression. 

“we don’t speak of it,” he said at long last, sending becky into another fit of giggles. it was a welcome change of pace from the thoughts racing through his mind about what would happen when he saw eileen again; when he met eileen for the first time. ( just when he thought he was getting better at separating truth from fiction, the vision from reality, he seemed to lose his footing all over again. )

“of course i’m team taylor!” becky gasped. “i’m as big of a fan of taylor’s as i am of everyone here! i mean, the only way this could get better is if taylor was here, too! hey, do you think taylor ever read the supernatural books and wrote songs about you guys? because i think she did!”

“which songs?” sam asked, catching a glimpse of claire and becky laughing in the backseat. they looked so much more like their ages when they laughed, especially claire; her defensive scowl faded away, and she looked like a kid, goofing off with her siblings and friends, having fun. 

“a place in this world, the outside, cold as you, tied together with a smile, mary’s song— i mean! fearless, change…” becky listed, ticking the tracks off on her fingers as she did as though simply saying the titles illustrated her point.

“okay, so becky is staunchly team taylor. cas?”

“i haven’t heard a kansas song,” castiel said in response to claire’s question and sam’s echo. “but i like taylor swift’s songs. and i agree with becky that there appear to be echoes of your lives in her music. at the very least, i suppose that is one of the interesting things about writing— songwriting, poetry, fiction; a line may be specific to the author’s own lived experience, but a particularly touching, well-written line might be taken by the audience and applied to their own lives, if they have experienced a similar emotion. whether or not she has any knowledge of any of you, anyone who has felt a similar emotion towards you might, for example, apply a connection between her lyrics and their feelings.”

“cas, i’m obsessed with you,” becky said happily. “and i also feel like we need to have, like, the perfect song playing when we get to lebanon, so someone’s gotta pick!”

“dean?” sam looked at his brother expectantly, his serious expression cracking under the laughter he was holding in before breaking into a wide smile. “okay, okay, i’m taking mercy on you. let’s play a kansas song while we drive into town, so cas can hear one, okay?”

“where are we going once we get there?” becky asked.

“we’re looking for eileen leahy,” sam said; if his throat tightened up a little when he said her name, he didn’t let it show. “i’m not sure what her exact address is right now, but if we ask around, we should be able to find her.”

“eileen leahy,” claire echoed, testing the name on her tongue. with all of the people that they were meeting these days, she wondered what made eileen special enough for them to track her down. everyone seemed to have something that made them worth picking up. except for claire herself, who’d all but forced her way onto the trip. she absentmindedly ran her thumb down the hilt of the pocket knife dean had gifted her not long ago, and tried not to let her thoughts spiral.

she was here. for better or for worse, she was here, and it was far too late to go around second-guessing that choice now.

they made it to lebanon in what felt like just minutes. if conversation happened on the drive, claire missed it, still caught in the rut of wondering if she was imposing. she didn’t really register anything until they were climbing out of the car, parked in front of—

“another diner?” she squinted up at the tacky sign, then down to dean. “is this really how you get all of your information? you just eat?”

“that’s good sleuthing,” anna said, walking past them and right into the diner. claire laughed and followed after the angel. dean held the door open for everyone to walk in, letting it slowly close behind him. as they slid into the table that anna had picked, the angel perused her menu with only half of her attention. “who are we looking for?”

“eileen leahy,” dean said, moderating his voice so as to not be overheard by any of the patrons in the diner. there weren’t many, but there were still a few too many for him to be raising his voice.

jo’s head shot up as she looked between them. “we’re looking for eileen?”

pam played with a sugar packet, smoothing her thumb over the tiny lumps as she raised her brows at jo. “you know her?”

“personally, no. but i’ve heard of her. and i know how to...” she half-stood from her seat to look by the door. “let me out, i need to see something.” when dean and pam stood to let her out, she made quick work of heading to the clerk working the podium at the door. she put on her prettiest smile as she made conversation, and the man responded in kind, pointing to something outside. she threw her team a look, then walked outside. less than a minute later, she returned to the table with a newspaper and reclaimed her seat with a sigh. “i know how to find her.”

claire furrowed her brows. “she’s going to be in the newspaper? what, is she a politician or something?”

“nope,” jo said, popping the ‘p’ as she opened the newspaper. “she’s a hunter. but she takes very specific cases. i remember her coming to the roadhouse a few years back. she took care of this problem that had a lot of hunters stumped, but she didn’t look satisfied at all. i thought it was weird, considering she was pretty quick about it, and no one thought she could do it in the first place.”

“why not?”

“because most of the hunters that pass through the bar are old conservative white men, and eileen is none of those things,” jo said. “and sh—i knew it.” if she had more to say on the subject, it was dismissed in favor of her folding the newspaper in a way that highlighted one specific section. she placed it in the middle of the table, letting everyone else read over it.

“two local suicides,” dean summarized. “what about it? you think there’s something supernatural doing this?”

“i’m almost positive there is. if eileen’s here, then this—” she tapped the newspaper. “—is probably the work of a banshee. we find the banshee, we find eileen.”

[rcngades]

peace of mind | team free will

wcywcrd​:

becky leaned against the window in the backseat of the impala, humming quietly along to forever and always while fighting the urge to fully sing along. she and sam had stopped into the library in dodge city and, armed with blank cassette tapes and a copy of the fearless cd, carefully recorded the album onto a tape with the help of a rented boom box. ( sam had swiped a piece of mail in order to get a library card; almost abashedly admitting to becky that he used to do that all the time when he was a kid. becky had thought about it while they had set up the boom box to record the cd onto the cassette in one of the library study rooms; libraries were pretty awesome for sitting in and doing research, and anyone could do that, but if you wanted to take a book home, you’d need a library card. she’d had a lot of questions about how sam and dean had done stuff like that when they were little, or about how they had signed up for school and everything without a permanent address, but she had bitten her tongue; as fascinated as she was by every single aspect of their lives, she could tell there were some things that they probably didn’t want ot talk about. ) the cassette had been a surprise for dean— and, okay, for becky too— so they could listen to the album more easily in the impala. 

twisting around a little, becky looked for the other cars that the rest of the group was traveling in. they weren’t far behind. becky wished they could all fit in the same car, but that was really impossible; she, claire, and cas were already in the backseat, and with sam in the passengers seat and dean driving, they were pretty much packed.

“it’s cool to be in kansas,” becky said, watching the scenery go by. she was fighting the urge to ask stuff about when sam and dean were kids again, but she couldn’t help but imagine what it must have been like for them when they were little, being from around here. “hey, should we pause taylor swift and listen to kansas, since we’re in kansas and all?”

sam laughed, looking over his seat at becky. “now that is a question that’s going to make dean crazy. what do you think, dean? kansas or taylor?” he glanced over at his brother, still grinning. it was no secret dean was a big fan of taylor swift, and he wasn’t denying it, but he was also a big classic rock fan. in fact, until recently, classic rock was all sam could ever remember dean listening to. 

castiel tilted his head, as though equally interested in learning dean’s decision, though his gaze was absent from the good-natured teasing expression sam wore.

truthfully, sam was grateful for the distraction; the closer they got to lebanon, the more his stomach twisted into anxious knots and the more his hands shook at the idea of seeing eileen again— no, meeting eileen. for the first time. whatever he thought he knew or remembered about her— and whatever his heart was telling him he felt for her— they were total strangers to eileen. every time it had been difficult, but sam had a feeling this time it would be hardest for him to remind himself that someone they were meeting wouldn’t have any clue as to who they were, who he was.

dean looked scandalized at the question, and claire couldn’t help but laugh at the expression he sent his brother. “you expect me,” he repeated, voice low and betrayed, “to choose between kansas and taylor? what do you got against me, huh, sammy? what, did i not hug you enough when you were a kid? did i not show you enough humanity? because that—what you just asked me? there was nothing human about that. unprovoked!”

claire rolled her eyes fondly as dean ranted without ever answering the question, though she had a feeling he did it on purpose. dean often overreacted to simple things, bringing laughs out of those around him. she liked it about him, even if she’d never say it. he made what they were doing feel less scary; less like the world was really ending, and more like a really long road trip. “you can just say taylor,” she taunted. “no one’s going to judge you.”

“i never said that,” he said. “and i can feel you judging me, judgy!”

dean cut another glare at his brother, playful and heatless as it was. he knew sam far too well to not pick up on his anxiety when it came to meeting this eileen chick. dean didn’t know anything about her, outside of where she was, but something about her had sam all fidgety. dean didn’t press for answers; it wasn’t his place to drag any truths out of his brother, especially not in front of others. dean just hoped that if something was wrong, sam would say so, instead of letting it simmer and stew.

“i’m team taylor,” claire decided, drawing dean’s attention back to the conversation.

“you’ve never heard a kansas song,” dean accused, though he had a feeling it was true. every time he tried to play his rock cassettes, she conveniently found her way into another car. for all of her cool aura, she was a teenage girl who liked country pop, and he only teased her for it a little.

claire scoffed. “name one kansas song that can beat taylor’s discography.”

“you’ve clearly never heard play the game tonight.”

“do you like that song more than you like white horse?”

dean  opened his mouth to answer, then shut it. he didn’t have an answer to that. claire laughed at his non-answer, and dean hid his smile. bickering with claire was always fun; she was always ready with a retort, and she lit up whenever he made her laugh. she looked more like her age in those moments. “what about you, sam? what’s your verdict? cas? i mean, becky’s team taylor, obviously—-you are team taylor, right?”

“i mean, she has taste,” claire muttered.

“i didn’t ask you, novak!”

[rcngades]

pour some sugar on me | team free will

wcywcrd​:

becky looked up at claire, a pink flush creeping over her cheeks as she found herself torn between being surprised— but happily so, like getting the present you never imagined you would for christmas— that claire had noticed her expression and understood what was on her mind, all without having to ask, and nervous when claire squeezed her knee. she was so dazed by the feeling of claire’s hand on her leg, she almost missed the words that also sent her heart racing: a promise that they wouldn’t lose touch. becky couldn’t help but smile back at claire, shoulders rising up to her ears in a reflexively shy gesture, hardly able to contain the feeling of happiness that was flooding her.

whatever happened, they wouldn’t lose each other.

she wouldn’t lose claire.

that felt like the most important thing, the biggest thing.

at anna’s next question, bela and castiel each drank, and sparrow’s jaw dropped.

“cas i get, but you’ve never been to a carnival, bela?” she asked.

“never,” bela admitted. “i was never able to as a child, and by the time i could have gone on my own, i never made it to one.”

“what is a carnival?” castiel wondered, and sparrow sat up straighter.

“you’d love it. there are games, and rides— you sit in these cars, but they don’t go on a road like we’ve been doing, they go in loop-de-loops and upside down and stuff! and amazing food. i mean, the sugariest, yummiest food ever! pam’s right, we’re bound to pass a carnival somewhere in the next couple of months. i mean, it’s super! that’s carnival season. and we have to stop and spend the day there when we do!”

“what if we’re on hunt?”

“then we ward up the carnival like we do every motel room we crash in, and we ride the tilt-a-whirl til we puke,” sparrow said decisively.

“what is fun about that?” castiel asked, looking slightly alarmed and bewildered at the idea of becoming sick on a ride.

“well, to be fair, you probably won’t puke, cas,” ava said, touching one of her nails lightly to test the dryness of the polish. “and it’s an exaggeration. …i think.” sparrow just shrugged, and ava figured she probably wasn’t kidding— then again, ava would probably ride a ride til she puked, too. “hey, my nails are dry! do you guys wanna do face masks and a movie? swimming?” she asked, bouncing up onto her knees.

“the best part about carnivals is beating everyone else in games,” pam declared, with a stern nod of support from claire.

dean laughed. “i thought the fun was in doing cheesy stuff. holding hands as you walk through the park, trying to win big stuffed toys for your date, giving them your coat when it gets too late...”

jo narrowed her eyes. “you just want to live in a coming-of-age romcom,” she teased. “don’t think we can’t see through you, winchester.”

he grinned at her. “oh, come on. what’s the point in going if we’re not going to act like the leads in a movie? someone needs to cry at least once. i bet it’s gonna be sam. it’s going to be so great. i hope there’s a ferris wheel. oh, do they still have houses of mirrors? i want to go in one.”

claire gave him a wide eyed look. “you want to go in one of those? they’re so creepy, what is wrong with you?”

“so much, claire bear. so much.”

“let’s go swimming,” anna said, perking up. “that way, we can do face masks and movies after we shower and put on our pajamas.” she thanked bela for her phenomenal paint job, holding her hands to her chest like she’d treasure the coat of polish forever. “do you think we can drag the radio out to the pool?”

dean looked over at the radio. “yeah, i can probably unplug it and take it out. don’t know if we’ll find any plugs out there or not.”

“we can figure it out as we go.” jo stood, stretching her tired limbs. “i’ll look for spare towels, just in case they don’t have any down by the pool.” she met ava’s eyes. “help me?” in truth, she didn’t need help finding a few towels, but it’d been so long since she’d had a moment alone with her best friend. if she was grasping at straws here, then she wasn’t oblivious.

looking between the two, dean correctly decided to mind his own business. “alright, troops, file out. let’s see if there are any plugs outside. let’s get this show on the road, whoo!”

as dean left with his boisterous loudness, claire rolled her eyes. standing up, she offered a hand to becky. “come on. let’s enjoy our night—together.”

not for the first time, she hoped that they would have many nights together. but in case they didn’t, and the world tore them apart somehow, then claire was determined to treasure this night. she had a feeling everyone thought the same.

[rcngades]

pour some sugar on me | team free will

wcywcrd​:

the smile castiel returned to dean was small, faint; it was a smile not meant for anyone else but for him, much like the gesture he had made. he enjoyed that, he realized; things being just theirs, things that felt as though they were meant only for the two of them. moreover, he liked the thought that he had made dean happy; that something he had done or said had brought dean a sense of comfort or peace or happiness. 

becky’s expression turned into a frown, and she looked at claire, checking to see if she was having the right reaction— she felt like she was never sure. claire was smiling, though, so becky fought the frown off of her face, teeth sinking into her lower lip as she looked down at the nail polish drying on her fingertips.

after. did they really think they wouldn’t all be together after…after something? after they stopped the apocalypse, or after something else? did they not want to be? becky’s stomach churned. she didn’t want to not be together; she didn’t want there to be an after that involved them not all crowding into dingy motel rooms or singing along to taylor swift songs, painting their nails and eating at diners and gas stations, listening to classic rock and training with weapons and looking up lore. before was already nothing spectacular, as far as becky was concerned: it wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t…this. becky didn’t want an after that was the same as her before. she wanted things to stay the way they were right now.

still, everyone else seemed to be moving on, and becky didn’t want to spoil the night— a night everyone seemed to agree was pretty much one of the best nights ever— with getting upset. so she made herself calm down and not think about it.

besides, maybe if she didn’t think about it, there wouldn’t be an after. maybe things could stay the same.

“cool,” she said instead, entranced by jo’s description of her tattoos, before listening to pam as well. “should we all get anti-possession tattoos? i mean, cas did the whole…” she gestured at her ribs to indicate the sigils they all had now, “but should we get the anti-possession tattoos, too?”

“hey, yeah!” sparrow said, grinning. “i like that idea.”

laughter erupted at dean and anna’s admissions. sparrow and ava took a drink, as well. 

“also really drunk at college,” ava said, holding up her drink and laughing. sparrow stuck her tongue out at sam.

“not a word! don’t judge me!”

sam laughed. “i would never! …but i can’t say i’m surprised.”

“ugh!” sparrow retored, giggling again.

once the laughter subsided a bit, becky thought, then said, “never have i ever…stolen anything.”

“oh, come on,” sam teased, taking a drink. bela and ava did, as well.

“my friend had this little polly pocket…i know i shouldn’t have done it. it still haunts me,” ava said dramatically.

perhaps because she was always watching becky, but claire caught the older girl’s look out of the corner of her eye. she tipped her head in curiosity, then played the last thirty seconds back in her mind. when she caught the snag, she smiled. “we’re still going to be friends after this,” she whispered to becky. “i think jo means she wants us to be ready to face smaller problems. less apocalyptic, more handsy-boy-at-a-party.”

in truth, claire wasn’t sure what would happen when all of this was over. she didn’t know if they’d all get dropped off at home and never talk about this again, but she knew she had no desire to live a life without these people—without becky. no one went back to living under the floorboards once they experienced the sun on their skin; claire wouldn’t be the first.

she squeezed becky’s knee gently. “i promise we’re not going to fall out of touch. i’m not going to let that happen.”

she tuned back into the party, taking a second to catch up. they were talking about skinny dipping now, naturally. at becky’s prompt, claire laughed, taking a drink along with dean and jo.

“criminals,” pam teased, “all of you. just criminals.”

“just think about how much money we save by not buying anything,” dean joked. “automatic discounts on everything!”

jo laughed. “you’re a horrible influence. i can’t believe we’re trusting you to save the world.”

the words aren’t meant to sting, and dean’s happy to find that they don’t. because he knows that jo trusts the world in his hands—in all of their hands—even if he has his doubts. she wouldn’t be here, if she didn’t believe in it. “no one saves the world by following the law, joanna beth. sometimes, it takes a bit of anarchy.”

“we’re quite literally rebelling against god,” anna points out. “i think we passed anarchy a few miles ago.”

“we wouldn’t have to, if his children weren’t such dicks,” dean muttered. “no offense.”

anna waved him off. “no, you’re right. they’re dicks—present company not included.” at dean’s playful grimace, she flipped him off with a laugh. “okay, i’ll go next. never have i ever... been to a carnival.”

claire and pam drank.

pam looked around the room with wide eyes at how many people didn’t drink. “seriously? you guys haven’t—geez. next time we pass a carnival, we’re going in. i can excuse a lot of things, but this is a bridge too far.”

[rcngades]

pour some sugar on me | team free will

wcywcrd​:

at dean’s first question, sparrow and bela both took a drink. castiel hesitated, then slowly raised the drink he’d been handed to his lips. “i suppose,” he said after a moment, “that what i am doing now counts as ‘sneaking out.’”

“heck yeah it does, you rebel,” sparrow giggled. no one asked any further of dean, but castiel turned his thumb almost imperceptibly to brush against dean’s knuckle for a moment, catching his eye. it wasn’t that the story was clear to him; no matter what he had seen when he had rebuilt dean’s soul, he knew it was not everything, not every memory; even then, what he did know was disjointed, incomplete. but there was something in his tone, in his words, that made castiel want to comfort him, almost the same way he did when he sensed dean was falling into another nightmare. it did not occur to him until after he had done it how reflexively he’d wanted to touch dean as an offer of comfort, how reflexively he’d wanted to keep the action between the two of them, as some other method of protection.

when claire offered her next question, sam, ava, castiel, and bela all took a drink.

“a zombie in lawrence,” sam winced. 

“i fell out of a tree,” ava said, earning another round of laughter. bela didn’t explain, but instead smiled at anna, pam, and jo in turn.

“or break whatever part of him you can get to,” she hummed absently, smoothing the baby pink polish over anna’s nail and refusing to look at any of the others. her hands felt cold.

“can you guys teach me how to do all of that stuff?” becky squeaked, half-alarmed, half-impressed.

“definitely,” ava nodded. “although jo is probably a better teacher than me. see the whole falling-out-of-a-tree thing.” she laughed again. “okay…never have i ever…gotten a tattoo.”

sam, sparrow, and bela took a drink.

“what?! show us, show us!” becky squealed.

“mine’s the same as dean’s, the anti-possession tattoo,” sam said, using his free hand to tug the collar of his shirt to the side, revealing the tattoo. sparrow stood up, hiking her shirt up along her left side to reveal a peace sign on her ribcage. 

“i can’t believe mine is still there,” bela said, flashing a grateful look to anna before turning her ankle to reveal a small star.

dean offered cas a smile at the show of comfort. he didn’t know how much cas knew about his story—wasn’t sure how much sam knew, sometimes—but he still felt seen and understood, even if he couldn’t quite explain it. he didn’t linger on the moment, instead turning his attention back to the conversation at hand. this gesture, as meaningful as it was, felt like something best kept between them. like something dean didn’t want the universe to rip away from him, the way it tended to do with things he loved.

jo grinned at ava, sending her a wink. “i don’t know, ava’s pretty badass, too. but you know, i’m always happy to teach you how to kick ass. i want you to be able to protect yourselves, after...” she waved a hand, gesturing to their general situation. “when you go back out into the world after this.”

claire smiled gratefully at her, and the conversation moved on.

at ava’s prompt, dean, jo, and pam all took drinks. 

“anti-possession,” dean explained, showing the tattoo at his collar.

“my dad’s birthday on my inner bicep,” jo said, pulling up her sleeve to show it. “and a spaceship on my hip, just because i wanted one.” she lifted her shirt and tugged down one end of her waistline to show the tattoo, before letting her clothing fall back into place. “oh, and i have flowers down the left side of my rib cage. they’re carnations, sunflowers, peonies, and... chrysanthemums,” she listed. “i think. it’s been a while since i updated it.”

claire looked at her in awe. “can we see?”

jo shook her head. “later. if we go to the pool, i’ll let you see,” she promised. she looked to pam for her explanation.

“i also have an anti-possession tattoo,” the medium explained, showing hers on her wrist. “and a heart on my ankle.” she leaned back on her palms. “never have i ever... gone skinny dipping.”

dean and anna both drank.

“i’m not even surprised anymore,” claire joked, getting a laugh from the angel.

“i was with my girlfriend and her girlfriend, and i was really drunk.”

“wait, wait,” jo giggled. “your girlfriend had another girlfriend?”

anna hummed. “and a boyfriend, but he was less interesting to look at. she was into open relationships, and i didn’t mind. i knew she was seeing other people, they knew she was seeing me, and we all got along.”

“i can’t believe your university career was more interesting than my entire life,” dean teased. “i just skinny dipped because i was undercover at a party. and also really drunk. you were just out there living your best life.”

anna grinned. “as you can see, i took my angelic rebellion very seriously.”

[rcngades]

pour some sugar on me | team free will

wcywcrd​:

“here, here!” sparrow saluted with her nail polish bottle along with everyone else, then leaned around sam to look at pam. “and you’re not a nutjob. you’re the coolest person i’ve ever met.”

“i think this is the best night i’ve ever had, too,” bela said, extending her left hand to study the manicure she’d applied there. “shockingly,” she added, mimicking jo’s tone and casting an almost identical look towards dean. 

sam huffed another laugh, keeping his hand still for pam. he remembered jess chiding him if he moved around too much while she was trying to paint his nails. — he remembered the black nail polish still on his fingers as he took his finals sophomore year. he remembered wanting to leave it on over thanksgiving break, because it reminded him of her so much. he’d gotten chicken and mashed potatoes from the grocery store and watched the parade, looking at that chipped nail polish and pretending he was eating dinner with jess. with dean. he knew they would have been friends.

“i think we can safely say that no one here’s a nutjob, even if they felt like it. or if other people acted like they were,” ava said, taking jo’s hand and forcing herself not to think about that too hard. jo was her friend, her best friend; she couldn’t screw that up. if she said anything, if she ruined their friendship…she didn’t know what she would do if she ever lost jo. 

“most of us, anyway,” sam said cheerfully, casting a look in dean’s direction, feeling relieved that he could tease his brother again, that they could joke and mess around like this. that they had friends like this. 

“hey, does this count as playing a slumber party game? it’s like…a version of never have i ever!” sparrow said happily, blowing on her nails.

“that’s a drinking game,” sam supplied.

“we get it, you went to college.”

“so did you!”

sparrow just laughed again. “wanna play while our nails dry? i mean, we may all be the last line of defense between humanity and the apocalypse, but i’d also love to get to know you guys better.”

dean threw up his arms, as if burdened by being the source of everyone’s teasing. in reality, it felt good. he felt less fragile, less like he was on the verge of falling back into a fiery pit. he felt like himself again; he felt like they were them again: a group of friends on a mission, rather than a support group for those traumatized by the impending apocalypse. “you’re all so obsessed with me, it makes you look foolish.”

“you look foolish.”

“you look foolish!”

“if either of you stick your tongue out,” pam warned, stopping dean and claire’s fight before it could pick up, “i will put you both on time out. don’t test me.”

jo laughed as the two settled for pouting instead, before they both burst into giggles, at each other, and then at sam and sparrow. “okay, never have i ever, then,” jo agreed. “who wants to go first?”

dean stuck his hand in the air, keeping the other still wrapped around castiel’s hand. “oh, i will! but what are the stakes? we need at least something to drink.”

pam looked up, peering towards the cooler. “i think we have a few drinks left in there. mostly sodas, but there might be some beers.”

“i’ll get them,” anna offered, parting from bela momentarily. “what does everyone want?” she made quick work of passing out the requested drinks, then returned to her seat. “dean, you said you wanted to go first, right?”

the hunter nodded. “yep. never have i ever... snuck out.”

eyebrows shot up around the room. claire, pam and jo all drank. “you’ve seriously never snuck out?” clarie asked. “not even once? come on.”

dean didn’t have the heart to tell them that he was too afraid of his dad to pull a move like that. “there was no point in it,” he said instead, starting on castiel’s glitter coat. “we were always out and about anyway. there was no place for me to go. i’d sneak out of the motel and go where? to the greasy diner across the street? boring.”

if anyone thought there was more to the story, he hoped they didn’t ask.

“okay,” claire said. “never have i ever... broken a bone; mine or anyone else’s.”

dean, pam and jo all took drinks; with a wince, so did anna. at the appalled looks thrown her way, the angel shrugged. “i’m a journalist. if i’m not dealing with morally corrupt politicians, i’m dealing with a handsy boss.” she winked at and becky. “and when a man puts his hands on you, the kindest thing you can do is break them.”

“and if he does it again,” pam added, “cut them off.”

“or slice the tendons in his wrist,” jo offered. “really, you have so many options. don’t feel compelled to hold back.”

[rcngades]

pour some sugar on me | team free will

wcywcrd​:

as claire laughed, castiel held very still, hardly remembering to blink as he looked at dean. something in his expression made sam take pity on him— cas didn’t exactly get jokes yet— and he cleared his throat, huffing a laugh as he squeezed his long limbs onto the bed between sparrow and pam. “dibs on best man,” he teased, and sparrow laughed again, nodding the affirmative to pam’s question and unscrewing the cap of the orange polish as she did.

her laughter grew louder at anna’s assertion, and she wrapped her hand around the nail polish to keep it from spilling onto the bed spread— not that it would have mattered to the motel, and truthfully, a little orange would probably just brighten it up— and she nodded, catching her breath. “totally. it’s just the right amount of freedom, you know? you get to start over if you weren’t into high school or your hometown, and just be who you are, or figure out who you are. plus, making out with guys…and girls,” she wiggled her eyebrows.

“somehow i’m less shocked by you,” sam laughed as he rested his hand on pam’s knee. sparrow gasped, pretending to be offended, then just laughed again.

“not everyone does that in college, though,” becky said quietly, chewing at the inside of her cheek and focusing very resolutely on the spot on the carpet next to claire’s shoe. “i mean, some people were, like, just as bad at college as they were at high school. and never kissed anyone in either place,” she said, the last sentence drifting off to a whisper as her cheeks flushed a vibrant red. why did she always have to keep talking when she should stop?! it was the like part of her mouth that should come with a filter was faulty, and she was forever blurting out stupid things that would make her look like a dork.

“hey, that’s no big deal,” ava said quickly, scooting closer to jo and grabbing the bottle of white polish for her nails. “want to know a secret? i liked high school better than college. seriously! i had a really tough time. it’s just like anna said, it’s not for everyone. and it completely doesn’t matter when or if you kiss anyone, either,” she said supportively. “but for the record, god was totally right,” she added, winking at anna.

“i’ve never kissed anyone either,” castiel said to becky calmly. “and i am far older than you are. you have plenty of time to do anything you’d like to do,” he assured her. becky blinked at him for a moment, then smiled. the smile started small, but spread quickly across her face, until her blush had faded away and her eyes were twinkling. 

“really?”

“really. and as you can see, for all i do have knowledge of, there is much i don’t know, as well. i also don’t understand the mechanics of swimming,” he added to jo.

“well, we’ll teach you both how to swim. if you want,” ava promised, “and for the record, this? way better than college. or high school,” she said, gesturing around the room with the bottle of nail polish. “no offense to everyone else i’ve ever known, but i kinda like you guys best.”

“me too,” sparrow said cheerfully, looking up from where she was carefully painting her thumbnail. “even if sam is unshocked by my bi-ness.” she giggled again, and sam laughed.

“you’re not an angel, is all i’m saying,” he said. “besides, it’s not like i didn’t kiss a few people before i met jess,” he added, almost defensively. ava whistled.

conversation moved on around them, but claire couldn’t take her eyes off of becky. there wasn’t anything wrong with having a less than stellar time in college, and there was definitely nothing wrong with not kissing anyone. ...still. claire opened her mouth to say something, then snapped it shut again, focusing on becky’s nails. she was so stupid; crushes were so, so stupid and unnecessary, god.

“i also like you guys better than everyone i’ve ever known,” jo agreed. she threw a derisive look to dean. “most of you, anyway.”

“oh, now that just hurts, joey!” dean put a hand to his chest, as if that could stop the fake bleeding. “right here.”

“good.” jo paused in her nail-painting to take a bite from her burrito. once she’d chewed and swallowed, she added. “for all the shit we’ve gone through, i think this is one of the best nights i’ve ever had. if not the best, honestly.”

pam hummed her agreement, starting sam with a clear coat. “being the town nutjob didn’t leave me a lot of room for slumber parties. people either believed i was psychic and wanted my help, or they thought i was full of shit and they wanted nothing to do with me.”

claire shot the older woman an understanding look. she had never been socially pariah’d, but she knew what it felt like to be isolated. questioning her sexuality in a house of devout conservatives, never getting typical high school experiences because she in the closet with a curfew, being the one always left behind... it wasn’t a kind experience, she could tell you that.

dean hummed but didn’t verbally agree. it went without saying that he and sam hadn’t had a lot of room for things like this. they only existed in motel rooms like this one and forged papers in school records. there was no part of them that’d known what it was like to have real friends that they could make lasting memories with. he lifted the black nail polish. “to new memories with better friends.”

around the room, people lifted bottles. “cheers,” anna agreed.

[rcngades]

pour some sugar on me | team free will

wcywcrd​:

“of course,” bela said, smiling at anna. she nibbled at the burrito tucked onto her lap, still getting used to it all: eating, being around being, being safe. not that there was a part of her that disliked it, but she still felt disoriented, sometimes. still, times like these made her feel a little more rooted, more grounded in reality. she felt like she was really there, in the room, and she was grateful for the feeling.

“i’ll paint your toes,” castiel offered, then paused. “but i don’t know how.”

“cas, we genuinely can’t ask you to do that,” sam laughed, crumpling up the wrapper of his burrito and getting up to toss it in the garbage, gathering the wrappers of everyone else who had finished as well and laughing as a pillow flew across the room and smacked dean in the face. he settled back down, surprised, but not complaining, at the station the radio was tuned to: it came in staticky over the speaker atop the motel clock radio from time to time, but it was overall easy enough to hear each song. 

jess always listened to music like this.

sam had grown up with classic rock, just like dean, but when he’d met jess, she had a whole array of music she’d introduced him to. he’d latched onto a few bands in particular, bands that were perfect to put on in the background while studying, to drive to on a rainy night, to listen to on a discman while walking back to their apartment from class: death cab for cutie, the decemberists, belle & sebastian, noah and the whale, bright eyes. but there was a melancholy to that music that never quite fit with jess’s sweet, bubbly personality. their nights at home when they weren’t studying weren’t full of somber tunes; jess put on pop music and they danced in the kitchen while making dinner, made up their own lyrics while they cleaned the living room, laughed and kissed to a soundtrack that matched the beat of their hearts. 

jess was the first person to paint sam’s nails. he wouldn’t have tried it around his dad, although he’d always thought it looked cool; one night he’d watched jess applying a coat to her nails and asked how she did it, and she’d offered to paint his nails, too. 

“yeah, i do,” he looked over at pam, smiling, a strange sensation washing over him. for the first time, he hadn’t felt like he was sad about something that hadn’t happened— or hadn’t happened yet— but like he was here, now, missing someone he’d only recently lost, rather than people he hadn’t met yet. he felt like some part of him had snapped back to reality, suddenly. “uh, is there red?”

“yeah!” becky said enthusiastically, looking around for it. “will you do my nails, claire?” she asked, almost shyly, as ava found the red and tossed it to sam. sparrow ducked as it flew over her head.

becky rested her hands in claire’s, trying to ignore the rate at which her heart had started to beat. “i can paint yours next, too!” she said cheerily, willing her voice to sound normal. “hey, we can do tons of sleepover stuff! like, we can play a game and everything!”

“and go swimming!” sparrow chimed in. “this place has a pool, right?”

“i don’t think we have swimsuits,” bela said.

“we have clothes,” sparrow laughed. “you can swim in clothes!”

“cas,” dean sighed dreamily, “marry me.”

anna whistled, eyes widening. “oh, so we’re bold today.”

“am i allowed to cuss out an angel?”

claire laughed at the constant back-and-forths, unscrewing the caps of each nail polish bottle for becky. she liekd seeing everyone like this again. dean was back to playfully bickering with most of them, doting on sam, and blatantly falling for castiel. bela was growing comfortable within the group, and they were all learning how to exist with one another. they were still scoping out their strengths and their faults, but their picture was more cohesive than it had been lately, and she took a bit of pride in that, if nothing else.

pam patted the spot on the bed beside her. “come on. i’m doing red, too. we can match. sparrow, you feel like doing mine after i do sam’s?” easy, like they were average adults having a slumber party, rather than a motley crew of traumatized hunters and co.

“we can definitely swim in our clothes,” claire agreed. her eyes snapped up to catch becky’s winning smile, and she immediately let them fall again. god, she needed to get a grip. “it’s been a really long time since i last went swimming, though.”

“swimming just feels so suspicious to me,” jo mused, eliciting a few befuddled laughs. “i don’t understand the physics of it. in practice? sure, i float, i kick, i swim. in theory? what the fuck.”

anna laughed a little harder. “you sound like my stoner college roommate. she once talked to me for three hours straight about how gravity didn’t make sense.”

claire glanced over at the angel. “what’s college like? my parents wanted me to go, but...”

“it’s not for everyone,” anna said gently. “it’s still stressful, offensively expensive, and a lot of work. no one should be forced to go if they don’t want to. but, in my opinion, it’s infinitely better than any form of school that came before it. high school is torture, but college is your first real taste of freedom. you get to explore life without your parents breathing down your neck. you choose your class schedules, you eat what you want, you go to parties, make out with boys...” she smirked, self-satisfied. “make out with girls.”

claire turned beet red.

dean gaped dramatically. “anna milton, you made out with girls in college? you?”

“i didn’t know i was an angel back then,” anna said dismissively. “though i’ve reflected on it and i’ve realized that my divine status has made me no less of a lesbian. clearly, god made me and said gay rights, and i agree.”

dean cackled.

[rcngades]

pour some sugar on me | team free will

wcywcrd​:

something bloomed in castiel’s chest, spreading it’s roots throughout his form until it seemed to have spread everywhere, until he wasn’t certain whether it was contained merely to this human form he inhabited now, or the his angelic form that could hardly be perceived on this plane. something blossomed, turning the way a flower would to face the sun, though in castiel’s chest, he felt it turn towards dean as his source of light. 

at the same time, he felt his face break into a smile before he realized what it was; he felt the muscles in his cheeks pull upwards, felt his lips curving, his eyes crinkling slightly. it was involuntary, all of it, far more reflex than choice, but it seemed only the natural response to seeing dean smile, really smile, and to that smile being directed at him.

he’d seen so many things in his existence. he had seen the first paintings made on cave walls, the first flickers of flame sparking in the darkest night; he’d seen the sun rise over glittering kingdoms, the waves of the sea against pristine beaches, the gardens of babylon. he had seen true beauty, he knew. yet nothing had ever seemed nearly so beautiful as the way dean’s eyes lit up when he smiled, the curve of his lips. he was quite sure he had never been so captivated.

becky watched claire passing out the nail polish, realizing she was staring after a moment and turning bright pink, quickly going about rifling through one of the bags. she looked up again and caught castiel looking at dean, and breathed out a quiet, slow sigh of relief. at least she wasn’t the only one with a totally obvious crush.

“can i have a different color on each nail? ooh, and glitter?” becky asked cheerfully. “like, a full rainbow!”

“that will look cute!” sparrow said enthusiastically, shaking up the bottle of orange she had spotted.

“if you want letters, i can probably do that,” bela spoke up almost tentatively. she held one of the glittery bottles and smiled. “i used to do my own nails, before…well, anyway, i got rather good at it. i can do french tips, if anyone would like those as well. i think that’s what i’ll do.”

“you can do letters?” becky asked with as much awe as she usually reserved for just about anything the winchesters, jo, or claire did. bela laughed. 

“i can. although i also refuse to go anywhere near dean’s feet,” she added, wrinkling her nose. ava, who was holding a bottle of sparkly purple, dissolved into giggles that were partially brought on by the joy of seeing everyone so happy, teasing and joking. 

“well, at least we’re all in agreement on that,” she laughed.

jo held back a smile at the twin expressions on castiel, dean, becky and claire’s faces. it was nice to think that they were still capable of forming crushes in the face of the apocalypse. ...not that jo was holding up that well herself. she dared a quick glance to ava’s smile, then looked down before she could stare. that was manageable. she’d been managing for months now. and she was decidedly less obvious than the other four.

anna looked her way with raised eyebrows as if to say, you sure about that? jo threw her an unamused look, getting a laugh in return. “can you give me a french tip?” anna asked bela. “i haven’t done my nails in ages.”

“all of you are cowards,” dean huffed heatlessly. “i’ll do my own damn toes!”

claire pushed her shoulders back for a fight. “good!”

the two spent the next thirty seconds sticking their tongues out at each other before jo threw a pillow at him, effectively ending the bickering. claire cheered at her win, though dean swore that didn’t count.

with nail polish bottles and wrapped burritos, everyone settled down where they wanted, the radio tuned into the local pop station. along with some other new tunes, they were playing the most-played songs from fearless, which dean happily sang along to. “c’mon, cas, i’ll do your nails. i’m a pro.” he was not a pro, in fact. he wouldn’t have been caught dead with nail polish around his dad—absent as the bastard was—but girls had funny ways of flirting back in high school. letting a girl paint your nails for the sake of kissing her under the bleachers was a rite of passage. when he was back on the road with sam, their dad laid to rest, dean had plucked a bottle out of a dollar store and let himself experiment with it until the bottle ran out a few months back. it was still new; it was still fun.

claire held out a hand for becky’s. “want me to do yours? you wanted a rainbow, right?”

settled beside sparrow, pam threw a look to sam. “you want your nails done, too, bub? it’s okay, if you don’t.”

“the hell it is!”

“shut up, dean!”

[rcngades]

pour some sugar on me | team free will

wcywcrd​:

“yes!” sparrow jumped up and down at the list of games. “you’re a genius, clary,” she said, giggling at the remark about a kitchen knife. “see what i mean? genius. because yeah, we probably shouldn’t be putting vampire goop on our eyeballs.”

“we clean the knives,” sam said, but in a tone far more joking than defensive, at the same time castiel said, “there wouldn’t be goop on the knives.” sparrow just laughed again.

“you can do cucumbers on your eyes anytime! it’s supposed to help them de-puff,” ava said helpfully as she grabbed her own burrito and took a seat on the floor, unwrapping it eagerly. “and your hair looks beautiful,” she added around a mouthful of food. becky nodded fervently. 

“she’s right, claire! your hair looks beautiful the way it is. although it will look beautiful no matter what color you dye it, too,” she added quickly, not wanting claire to think she wouldn’t. besides, it was true; claire was the prettiest girl becky had ever met in her entire life. she would look beautiful no matter what, of that becky was completely certain.

castiel took one of the bottles of nail polish, studying it with a sort of scientific curiosity as the others talked. he unscrewed the cap, looking at the tiny brush with interest before putting it back into the bottle. humans were innovative in their creativity, he thought, eyes catching the other types of makeup that had come out of the bag along with the masks— which looked nothing like the masks castiel had been imagining— and piquing his interest. he’d seen the art they created in their galleries and museums; the way they adorned cathedrals and temples and mosques; the murals they left on city walls. but it was so much more than that: humans adorned themselves, created ways to do so with tiny bottles of paint, with ink on their skin, with paints for their faces and dyes for their hair and with the patterns and textures of the clothing they wore. humans made art of everything; they found ways to make beauty, and meaning, in every aspect of their daily lives. castiel heard it in the music they played over the radio in the car and in motel rooms, the movies they had put on, in the very way they spoke with one another. their lives were short, yet they were bursting at the seams with color, with beauty, with meaning. they felt everything and found every way to express each emotion, connecting with one another through doing so.

he had never experienced it first hand. now…

he looked at dean, and the corners of his lips twitched upwards again, involuntary as ever, but surprising him less and less each time it happened. 

“it totally will!” becky squealed. “hey, do you think i can paint the word fearless on my nails?” she asked hopefully.

“i don’t know if any of our skill levels are there,” sam said with a grin, squeezing into a spot at the table.

“but we can use a marker to write it!” sparrow suggested happily. 

castiel got up to make room for some of the others; after all, he did not need to eat. “i don’t know how to…” he began, then paused; he didn’t know how to do any of what they had planned for the evening; he didn’t know the rules to their games, or how to use any of the things claire and becky had brought back to the room.

“that’s okay, cas! we can teach you! and we can totally paint your nails for you,” becky promised cheerfully. 

“what color are we going to paint our nails?” castiel asked dean curiously, remembering dean’s offer to match. 

dean caught the edge of castiel’s smile like the first sign of snow and felt his pulse kick up a notch as he grinned back at him, fuller and completely unashamed. he liked seeing castiel learn about their world. anna had spent the last twenty-five years immersing herself in human life, so things like nail polish and lip gloss no longer fazed her. but everything was so new to castiel, and it amazed dean. to think that he’d lived for an innumerable amount of centuries, knew what would come to pass before it ever did, but he was still a foreigner to things like music and fast food. there was a beautiful innocence in discovering the world; dean wanted to cradle that innocent to his chest and protect it, the way castiel had been protecting him. he wanted—

his reverie was snapped clean by becky’s energetic question. he cleared his throat, looking away from castiel. “hey, if you manage, i wanna try it, too! do you think i can get white horse?” he counted the letters on his fingers to make sure he had the room for it. “maybe i can get it on my toes. i don’t want it to throw off my glitter.”

“no one’s painting your toes!” pam said, words full of teasing.

dean stuck his tongue out at her.

claire, still a little flushed from becky’s compliment, let her eyes fall to the assortment of nail polishes. it wasn’t like she didn’t know what a crush felt like; she’d had her fair share of them. but crushing on a girl—really crushing, not just admiring her curves and laughter—was different from crushing on a guy. it felt safer, somehow; less like claire had to try to win becky’s affection. it was just there, freely and lovingly given. platonically, sure, but still there. “you should get the blue,” she suggested for castiel and dean.

“you didn’t grab any green?”

she crinkled her nose, shaking her head. “all of the greens looked ugly, you wouldn’t have wanted them. try the cornflower blue, it’s super cute.”

anna finally closed her notepad, perking up. “i want baby pink!”

“you got it!” claire tossed the bottle over to her. the angel caught it with glee. “anyone else want to pick their color while i’m handing them out?”

“that red will look so good on me,” pam said, reaching around to grab it.

jo considered the bag carefully. “can i get white and a glitter coat?”

“pretty!” claire held out two bottles to her. she was on cloud nine, happy to see how well everyone received her and becky’s idea. it was impulsive, sure, but anything was better than the cloud of funk that’d been hanging over their heads since dean’s death. they all deserved to feel a little better, and nothing helped quite like a night of pampering.

[rcngades]

pour some sugar on me | team free will

wcywcrd​:

sam looked up from where he was helping jo take inventory, first at dean, then at the clock again. he could tell dean was on edge, and it wasn’t hard to guess why; castiel had warded them all against angels as well as the motel room itself, and the winchesters and jo had made fast work warding it against demons as well. still, claire and becky were out shopping, away from the rest of them, and it was hard not to worry. it was hard for sam not to worry about them— about dean, about everyone— but he swallowed it down, focusing on checking the remaining salt rounds in his duffle and making a mental note to call becky or claire if they didn’t come back in the next five minutes.

if sam was aware of dean’s anxiety and fighting against his own, reactions throughout the rest of the room seemed otherwise divided: sparrow was humming absently along with dean’s renditions of smoke on the water as ava worked her hands through her hair, pulling it back into a braid that would hopefully provide some reprieve from the heat that pressed up against the windows and slipped under the crack beneath the door, leaving the room sweltering despite the a/c being cranked up as high as it went.

castiel, on the other end of the spectrum, was seated across from dean as still as a statue, watching dean cautiously, occasionally looking at the others and towards the door. he seemed just as concerned about claire and becky’s whereabouts as dean— though if that was because of his own anxieties, or if he was picking up on dean’s concerns, sam wasn’t entirely sure— and seemed almost completely tuned into dean’s mental state. then again, he always was…

…no. sam shook his head slightly, wiping some sweat from his forehead as he carefully restacked the salt rounds. he couldn’t keep thinking like that, couldn’t keep thinking that his vision was some inevitable future, that it had ever really happened at all. if he did, it would just tear him apart. it was a vision, a possibility, the worst potential outcome: it was a reversible thing, a second place to the original worst-case scenario. it had to be. and he had to think of it that way if he wanted to stay sane.

still, everyone was apparently a little on edge, whether or not they were showing it; they’d gotten two rooms, the adjoining door propped open with a book, but everyone was crowded into the same one, regardless. 

the door swung open and sam exhaled, zipping up the ammo bag and turning around to smile at claire and becky as they recounted their trip into town.

“it totally can’t hurt!” becky said quickly and enthusiastically as she started to set some of the bags on the chipped nightstand that held the tv and a tattered copy of the bible. “it’s a great idea!” she all but beamed at claire, locating the bag of burritos and carrying it to the table where dean and castiel sat.

“i agree!” sparrow said as ava finished her hair, jumping up and bouncing over to the girls. “what games did you get?” she asked, standing on her tiptoes and peeking into the bags claire held.

“what are the cucumbers for?” castiel asked, brow furrowing slightly. “and what is nail polish?”

“oh, cas, you’re gonna love it!” becky promised excitedly.

jo flicked a glance up to sam, catching the almost imperceptible shake of his head, but time moved on without giving her a chance to ask about it. it wasn’t her place to ask where his mind ventured off to, anyway. she slanted her attention towards the girls and the corners of her mouth slid up into a smile at their enthusiasm. no one had been left untouched by what’d happened, and they were all doing their best to move on from it. she didn’t fault anyone on how they did that; making a pitstop into a game night was hardly the worst idea.

claire beamed under the unanimous agreement, pulling games out of the bag. “we got yahtzee, scrabble, scattegories, outburst, life, candyland, pictionary—we got it from the dollar store,” she hurriedly added. “we didn’t spend, like, loads of money on games. -—the cucumbers are for the face masks! you slice them up and put them over your eyes. at least, that’s what they do in movies.”

“i think you’re supposed to do that when you’re out in the sun, clary,” anna pointed out, still writing in her notepad. “but don’t take my word for it. i’ve never done it, either.”

“then we can experiment! oh, i also bought a kitchen knife—no offense, but i refuse to cut the cucumbers with a knife that’s been in a vampire.”

dean huffed out an amused scoff, grabbing a burrito from the bag. “didn’t you say you wanted to re-dye your hair, too?”

claire’s shoulders slumped again, out of teenage histrionics rather than genuine upset. she tugged at a strand of her hair, as if it’d pull her brown roots into her sight so she could glare at them. she’d spent enough time cursing in the mirror over them, despite jo’s reassurance that she didn’t even look bad. “i couldn’t find any cheap hair dye. next time, though.”

dean hummed. he didn’t know when they’d next get the chance to splurge on things like this, but—the trick was to ignore all of the traumatic shit. if this was how claire did that, he wasn’t about to argue. he peeked into the bag of nail polish. “what colors did you get? cas, you’re gonna love this,” he echoed becky’s sentiment, putting on a grin. “it makes your nails look all pretty. here, match with me, we’ll look great.”

“a few shades of pink, red, black, a couple shades of blue, some of the glittery ones, a b—”

“glitter,” dean gasped, hand shooting into the bag in search of it. “claire and becky, you two are angels. no offense, uh, angels.”

anna giggled.

pam climbed off of the bed to look into the bags herself. she grabbed the face masks out to look at the directions. “the cheap ones usually aren’t all that good for your skin, but these should be okay. you wanna do this before or after the games?”

“let’s do it after,” jo suggested. “we can probably find a movie to watch on tv. but we can do nails and stuff before the games?”

claire bounced on her toes, desperate to put her excitement somewhere. the image was endearing; pam had never seen her so cheerful. it was obvious, then, that claire and becky were still teenagers, easily excited by things like game nights and makeovers. they had an innocence and youth that begged—deserved—to be protected. “yes! hey, can someone do my nails black? i grabbed the glitter that you can put over another color, so i want that, too.”

“it’ll look like stars!” dean cried, just as excited. it wasn’t as genuine as claire and becky’s joy, but it was an obvious attempt—he was trying to be happy, and jo couldn’t fault him for that. 

[rcngades]

pour some sugar on me | team free will

things never—righted themselves after traumatic experiences. they settled like moving parts of an old house. fresh hurts fell into place beside aged bones, fashioning themselves into makeshift sinew. it salted doorways, it bled ruby, it stained fingertips. it was always there, dogging every movement, begging attention and confrontation without taking no for an answer. trauma was a house with no exit; you move into the neighborhood and you don’t get out without dishing out hundreds to some quack who’ll diagnose you with daddy issues.

the trick was to ignore all of that.

dean was getting real good at it.

he tapped his thumbs to the rhythm of smoke on the water, lips puckered to exaggeration in mouthing the words. the wooden chair groaned under his full weight as he tipped back onto its hind legs, its cheap lines digging into his back. the summer heat easily beat out the motel’s shitty air conditioner, thickening the air into an oppressive weight. the sheen of sweat sticking to dean’s skin was only just disappearing, after nearly an hour in the room. he was still sporting some unattractive pit stains and—on another note—some scruff that could stand to be shaved off his chin.

it made its way onto his to do list. as soon as the girls got back.

his eyes snuck up to the wall-mounted clock again. letting claire and becky go on the food run was so stu—no. they were adults, jesus. adults who wanted to stretch their legs and get a bit of air. adults with driver’s licenses, common sense, and a couple of pocket knives, just in case. dean sped up the tapping of his thumbs, skin chafing against the denim of his jeans. he rocked his neck to the tune playing out over the radio and dropped his gaze back to the door. 

just because he’d been to hell didn’t mean anyone else was going. being out of his sight didn’t mean they were automatically in danger.

if anyone was as tense as he was, they did a damn good job of not showing it. pam lounged on one of the beds with its questionable bedding, flipping through an outdated magazine. anna scribbles pretty script onto a yellow notepad, having muttered something about a deadline when she woke up this morning. how she was keeping up with her job and the impending end of the world was beyond dean, but—angels. what couldn’t they do? jo was doing a recount of their weaponry, the way she did every time they made a stop. he didn’t know how to tell her to stop doing that; it was anxiety-inducing to think that something might be missing. but he had a feeling it calmed her, so he turned away from it.

before his mind could bend itself any further, the door creaked open. “we’re back!” claire cheered, happier than she’d been when she left. “and look—we brought games!” true to her word, they carried more than just a few bags of burritos; they had an assortment of plastic bags from local stores. dean was silently proud of claire for buying the stuff instead of outright stealing it; her small klepto stint had left its marks on her and they were still trying to ease her out of it. within reason, anyway. 

“we figured we could have a game night,” she rambled, kicking the door closed with her foot. “we haven’t had one of those, even though we’ve been through so much. so i thought it might make us feel a little better? and i even brought nail polish and makeup, so we could do makeovers! and we got cucumbers and face masks, too.” coming to an end, she hesitated, the line of her shoulders deflating before she shoved them back into place. “my parents and i used to do this. when had game nights all the time. i didn’t like them so much when i got older, but i mean...” she exchanged a look with becky. “it can’t hurt, right?”

[rcngades]

wcywcrd​:

“me too,” sam said when anna said she had been concerned; it was impossible not to be. his face fell a bit when anna said castiel had been hurt in heaven; he knew dean and bela were adjusting, that everyone else was, but he hadn’t know about cas being hurt. “what happened in heaven? that’s where you were, isn’t it? when the hellhounds…” he lost the end of the sentence, still not quite able to say it, to really think it. if he thought about it too long, he’d start to picture the hellhounds attacking dean, ripping his brother apart, dragging him to hell; he’d start to picture what had happened to dean in hell. almost reflexively, he looked up, looked after dean, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw him walking towards the kitchen with cas.

he was okay. he was here. he was safe. and cas wouldn’t let anything else happen to him.

“what happened?” he asked anna again, anxiously. “i’m…” sam thought about it, shrugged helplessly. “i’m worried. what happened…i don’t know how to help them,” he admitted, his voice strained. “and…in the vision i saw, this…this happened. it…dean went to hell, and the apocalypse…started. and i don’t know if that’s happening again, or what to do. i just wish i knew what to do.”

anna’s fingers ghosted across the back of sam’s hand, exuding as much calm as she could. “that is what happened, yes. three of our brethren took castiel just before we arrived here. i believe they wanted to ensure things went according to a plan that was not our own.” she chose her words carefully; though there was no escaping what’d happened to dean, there was no need to throw it in his brother’s face. “in order to keep castiel from interfering, they hurt him. it’s nothing that won’t heal; when i checked his wounds earlier, they were almost completely healed up.” that was a slight stretch of the truth, but one she would forgive herself for; castiel was healing up nicely, and anna doubted he wanted sam to fret over him when there was nothing to be done for it. “they’re not wounds that castiel or i can heal with our powers, but they will heal.”

she withdrew her hand, folding her arms and letting her smile fade as she thought of what came next.

“i can’t say anything for sure,” she prefaced, “but i—believe dean may have spilled blood. when he returned to this realm, there was a stain on his soul. one that i recognize on bela. and if dean spilled blood, then the apocalypse may very well be approaching. but that doesn’t mean that it’s an end, love,” she said, tipping a smile in his direction. “you’ve worked very hard to ensure that things go differently this time. don’t give up on that now. it’s... right now, i don’t think we need to know what to do. i think it would be quite impossible for us to have a plan right now. our heads and hearts are with your brother, bela, and everyone else here.” 

anna weighed her next words before she shared them. “you have not given yourself much time to grieve, sam. dean, castiel, bela—they’re not the only ones who were hurt by what happened. frankly, i think you might be suffering from more trauma than any of us.” after all, this would be, what—sam’s third time watching his brother die? anna folded her hand over his again, squeezing gently. “if you would rather come up with a new plan than talk about this, then we can do that. but i think your confusion is understandable. please be gentle with yourself.”

[rcngades]

wcywcrd​:

bela considered jo’s question as though jo had just asked her to describe quantum mechanics. hungry? she couldn’t remember when she had eaten last; she was having a difficult enough time piecing together what day it was, what time; what was real and what was not. she had thought of bathing, of changing her clothes, of sleeping on fresh sheets under warm blankets, of sleeping at all. but food had not crossed her mind. neither had drink, really, but one of the girls— ava, she remembered— had brought both bela and dean water repeatedly, worrying over dehydration. bela wondered if she still was; her throat felt dry, but she wondered if she was still getting used to speaking.

“…i think i might be, yes,” she said after a moment, frowning a bit to herself. “…i’m sorry. it was a simple question, i…i’m still trying to make sense of things,” she said apologetically. “but i’d like to try to eat something. …may i come with you, to make lunch?” she asked. being completely alone, even for the length of time it took her to shower, had been jarring; when she was alone, when it was silent, her mind rushed to fill in the gaps with memories she didn’t want to recall at all. if it was quiet for too long she could hear the screams, smell the brimstone, all over again. when she was around people, at least, there was something, someone, to focus on.

additionally, a part of bela wanted to be useful. she’d done little more than lay on a mattress on the floor for over a day, dazed, stunned, hardly aware of her surroundings. but these people had, inexplicably, opened their home to her, offered her sanctuary and help, a safe place to stay. she wanted to return that favor any way she could. a part of her knew it was a dangerous pattern of hers; she didn’t know what to do with kindness that was not transactional. she had never known kindness, growing up; the first kind thing anyone ever did for her was when a demon offered her a deal, if that could be called kind. and it was a deal, a transaction: trading her soul for peace at the time. her life ever since then had been a series of trades and deals: she brokered exchanges of magical objects and cursed artifacts in exchange for money, she traded that money in for posh hotels and lovely meals. she kept everyone at an arms length, where it was safest— for them, for her. she didn’t know what to do with people who slept by her side, who held her hand and reassured her of where she was, of when she was. she doubted she would have known even before hell. it was all so foreign to her. she didn’t know what to do in the face of it other than offer something up in return, to prove that somehow, she was worth it.

jo patiently waited until bela reached an answer. dean did that sometimes, too; they would ask him a question or aim a statement at him, and it would take him upwards of ten minutes to tentatively give a yes or no. anna had warned them it would happen. things were different in hell; not just time, but simple biology. they didn’t have the chance to be hungry or thirsty; they’d felt pain and little else.

when bela finally responded, jo shook her head. “you don’t have to be sorry. trust me, i’m not rushing. but i’d love the help, if you don’t mind.” with a smile, jo pushed off of the table, pressing her weight to the soles of her feet, and held out a hand to bela. she didn’t have to take it if she didn’t want it, but jo thought she might appreciate it.

“i figure we can make soup and sandwiches,” she offered. “i don’t think anyone’s had a lot to see lately, so i don’t want to feed anyone anything too heavy. do you have any soup preferences?” she wondered if that kind of thing mattered right now. she knew dean loved everything with bacon on it before and would ask about food every ten minutes; she also knew that he hadn’t stepped food in the kitchen since he got back. she knew claire was a vegetarian; she also knew claire had split a chicken salad with pam this morning. things like this—your body didn’t always care about what you preferred.

but jo did. she wanted to, at least.

[rcngades]

wcywcrd​:

castiel followed dean, watching as he began to prepare fresh coffee. “nearly anything,” he said with a nod. “there are very few things, from very few entities, that we cannot heal immediately. unfortunately, things we cannot heal instantly includes wounds inflicted by an angel blade.” castiel hesitated. dean had been through so much over the past few days— days that were weeks for him— and he was not eager to say anything that might cause him any more distress or strife. still, he was not comfortable lying, either; certainly not to dean. “three of our brethren took me back to heaven just before you were taken. that was why i was not there when…” his eyes cast downward, a painful feeling coiling deep in his stomach. guilt, he recognized. he had not been there to fight off the hellhounds, to protect dean; whatever dean had endured in hell was because he had not been there. dean’s nightmares, dean’s pain, were because of castiel’s failure. the guilt gnawed at him, like rust eating through metal. 

“i’m sorry, dean.” he touched dean’s shoulder again, turning to meet dean’s eyes. “i should have been there, to protect you, to…to keep them from taking you at all. i’m so sorry i wasn’t.”

how much time had been wasted when he was held captive? how much had dean suffered? the guilt burned brighter. “we should talk about ways to ward them off, should any other angels come for us again, but…when you’re ready. that is not a conversation we need to have now. i was unprepared, and i— i was taken by surprise. it won’t happen again. i promise you.” 

castiel watched dean look at the clock, understanding. “it is disorienting. i— yes,” castiel inclined his head. his hand was still on dean’s shoulder. “one of our abilities includes entering dreams, entering the mind…this is not something i would do without your permission, without anyone’s permission, typically. but we do not need to sleep, and i was keeping watch…i feared you might have nightmares, and when you did, i wanted to put an end to them. i entered your dreams and brought you back. i can…continue to do that, if you would like. if it is alright,” castiel added. if it was not something dean wanted, he would stop, though the thought of dean suffering nightmares and being unable to help him sent an ache shooting throughout his heart, his entire being. 

he did not want dean to suffer.

shifting closer, castiel said, “this is real. we are. this place, your friends, your brother, you and i. but after what you have been through, it makes sense that it would be difficult to tell. it will get easier, dean. and until it does…if you ever doubt, you can always ask me. i will tell you what is real, and what is not, to the best of my ability to do so.”

dean busied himself with the art of making coffee while castiel explained what angels could and could not heal. his eyes snapped up to castiel at the mention of his own people kidnapping him. he stared at castiel for a few beats too long, time sinking around them, before he let out a huff. “they’ve got some impeccable timing.” he looked back down to the coffee pot. it was moving slower—faster?—than usual. or maybe this was the pace it’d always gone at. dean didn’t know. “...cas, you know it wasn’t your fault, right?” dean was a little lost at the moment, but he still liked to think he knew his friends. he could pick up on the painful changes in their voices just as well as he could pick up sam’s. didn’t take a genius to catch the dip in castiel’s eyes and put two and two together. “hey.” he met the angel’s eyes. “i’m gonna go out on a limb and say they wanted you to miss your window. they wanted you and anna outta the picture when i—”

barking, bleeding, tearing, screaming—

he waved a hand, turning away from castiel again. he grabbed the coffee creamer. “stop looking like a scolded puppy, man, you did what you said you would: you came and got me. you kept your promise. that’s all that matters.” he turned back around, his chest slightly less tight than it had been a second ago. “are you okay? doesn’t sound like heaven was any better than hell.”

there was a lot to take in here. castiel’s acknowledgement of time, his admission to manipulating dean’s dreams, the promise of defenses, it was all so much. dean breathed it in and forced his skin to loosen around his bones.

“i don’t mind—you reaching into my dreams, i mean. i don’t...” he didn’t think about it. “i don’t wanna go back there. not even in my dreams. so if you don’t mind, then—” did castiel mind? did it hurt him to go down there? “do—”

dean missed the days when he knew how to speak. when his sentences weren’t slicing themselves into pieces and offering up incoherent portions.

“if it doesn’t bother you, then it doesn’t bother me.” there. that was... coherent. “and i want to know how to stop them—your siblings, i mean. they got another thing comin’ if they think they can rip you away twice. they only managed the first time ‘cause i wasn’t there.” the bravado was nauseating to himself, but it felt more like himself. like something he would’ve said three days ago.

and then there was: you can always ask me.

“you’re gonna be answering a lot of stupid questions then,” dean said, with another laugh that didn’t really feel like a laugh. he wiped clammy palms over the rough material of his jeans. that felt real, at least. “i’m—my head’s just being ridiculous, ‘s all. i just, uh—i don’t know why i can’t tell what’s real. none of this is anything like hell. and i didn’t have the chance to dream of any of this in hell. there wasn’t a single corner of my mind i could run away to, so it wasn’t—i knew all of that was real.” he blinked hard against the random rush of tears. what the fuck. “i don’t know why all of this feels so... odd. like none of it’s here, none of it’s me.” his head dropped and he cleared his throat. he tried to laugh again, determined to get the hang of it. “i wouldn’t worry about it.”

[rcngades]

wcywcrd​:

“hey,” sam looked up at his friend as dean stopped to talk to cas. he was glad he was; if anyone knew what dean had really been through, it was cas, anna, or bela. they were the only other ones who had seen it, who had lived it. as much as sam wanted dean to be able to talk to him about anything, he knew there were going to be some things he couldn’t, and if they were things that he could talk about with someone, sam was relieved. 

still, he wasn’t willing to go too far away without his brother; he definitely wasn’t willing to be away from dean for too long, not now. so he hung back, staying close. he told himself it was just in case dean needed him, but if he was honest, it was just as much about his own fears as it was dean’s: he was too scared to be away from dean, too scared that if he was, even for a second, something else could happen to him.

he knew he wasn’t the only one feeling it; they all were. so he tried to smile at his friend, though his expression was more concerned than anything. “how are you holding up?”

“hi, sweet.” for all that’d transpired less than forty-eight hours ago, anna smiled with the same gentleness that she’d shown when she first met everyone. it would be a lie to say that she wasn’t a little on edge; her ears were pointedly tuned into bela, catching the makings of her conversation with jo, and she kept her senses stretched out to cover everyone. she interrupted nightmares and offered hugs and appeared when they got overwhelmed without understanding why it was happening.

grief was a very cruel monster that gnawed at all of them. anna didn’t delude herself into thinking that she was exempt from that, but she could and would deal with what she felt another time.

sam’s question didn’t surprise her. the winchester mode of living centered around altruism; sam was the one who’d spent hours sitting by his dead brother’s side and yet, he asked how she was doing. and, oh, she loved him. she loved him and all of their friends with a ferocity that would scare a lesser person. “i’m doing well, thank you. i’ve been concerned,” she admitted. sam did not deserve her lies. “castiel was hurt in heaven, so i’ve been trying to make sure he isn’t agitating his injuries. dean and bela are... adjusting, to put it lightly. everyone seems to be adjusting. but i worry nonetheless. how are you feeling?”