#2018 louden swain fanfic fanart project

[prompt-and-circumstances]

We Were All Medicated

We Were All Medicated

Characters/Pairings: No Pairings! OCs, Reader Insert, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester

Prompt: Medicated (from A Brand New Hurt by Louden Swain) for the 2018 Louden Swain FanFic FanArt Project (third year!) by @mrswhozeewhatsis

Word Count: 1,997

Warning(s): Angst, Sorrow, Guilt, Death. Look here, this piece hit me in the feels and I’m the joker who wrote it!

A/N: This is a reposting of last year’s challenge piece. It is the sequel to the 2016 Louden Swain Challenge piece “Pop Tart Heart.” All lyrics were used and are not bold or marked in any other way. I didn’t want them standing out like a sore thumb, I wanted this to read smoothly. This can be read in one of two ways: the first way is to go back and read Pop Tart Heart first and then this piece. The second way is to just read this fic as a standalone piece. I do reference the first piece and summarize it in one paragraph within this piece. There will not be a part three, the story ends here.

We Were All Medicated

Holy Chuck. That totally hurt. Of course, that was expected. What wasn’t expected was how relieving the pavement actually was. One would naturally assume that when you get knocked down onto pavement, you a) get the wind knocked clean out of you and b) you get hurt in two directions. Once from the attack and second from the pavement catching your flesh and bones. You braced yourself for more beatings from the group, but they walked away once you hut the ground. Weirdest bullies ever.

You just lay there for a few minutes, okay, maybe more than a few. The pavement seemed to caress the treads of your distress; it was as if the coolness from the concrete was seeping into your very being and washing away the stress, and pain, and guilt. Oh, how you wanted to lay there for eternity! But as Tommy always said, “you gotta grip onto that cow as your seat and speed the plow.”

To be honest, you didn’t have clue one what in the hell that actually meant, but you always assumed it was his version of the age-old adage “if you fall off the horse, get back on.” Good ‘ole Tommy Bandenberry. He was your best friend your entire life until he died with the rest of the scholastic team in a freak bus accident. One year later, that creep Colin Rottergut raised them and the entire cemetery with voodoo. You, your boyfriend Toby, Tommy’s little sister Chelsea, and your nerdy friend Maddox banded together and defeated the zombie dudes. The town “re-died” because of two strange men, brothers, Sam and Dean Winchester. They apparently did this stuff for a living. They stopped Colin and made the four of you swear to never get into hunting monsters.

And the four of you kept to that promise. At least, you tried. You were seniors in high school when the zombie apocalypse happened. Then you all went off to college and not the same ones. You and Chelsea went to one, Toby to another, and Maddox got into an Ivy League school and none of you were surprised. The guy was a total nerd. You all genuinely gave that promise the college try…but it wasn’t enough.

You still didn’t know what happened to Maddox, it was like he ceased to exist or something except you still remembered him. He disappeared without a trace, it’s honestly the damnedest thing. You certainly hoped it had nothing to do with the actual damned. According to the Winchester brothers, monsters are real so it only makes sense that angels and demons are real too, right?

You got into this series of books in college, Supernatural. Some guy named Chuck Shurley wrote them, and they were scarily accurate. You and Chelsea started saying things like, “I swear to Chuck,” and “Oh my Chuck” instead of God’s name. Neither of you knew if God was real, but this Chuck fellow seemed like a good substitute. He just knew too much. You always wondered if the Winchester brothers knew about him and his novels. Did he even have their permission to write that stuff much less print it?

You and Chelsea even got a book club going on campus for those novels. Everyone thought it was great fiction, but you and Chelsea knew the truth. They were real. A slight breeze washes over you and reminds you, you’re still lying on that pavement. You sit up but continue to sit on the cool pavement. You know, for a sidewalk it was awfully clean. There weren’t any markings, or gum spits, or dog droppings, or anything. Not even chalk from a kid during summer. It was just so, pure.

“Like your words, so gentle in their reflection in my window. I knew you would be the kind of girl I could talk to.” Chelsea was special, she was super girly and followed all the latest cosmetic trends. The girl never had a strand of hair out of place and didn’t know how to not accessorize anything and everything. She was a beauty queen, but she was also kind and bubbly. Everyone always assumes the pretty ones are mean, but she wasn’t. She refused to be placed into that mold. She was Tommy’s little sister after all, so you guys have known each other forever.

You remembered when they moved into your neighborhood, right next door to you. You were both five years old. You were sick with a cold and watched them unpack from the window in the downstairs living room. You were so curious but couldn’t join your parents outside to greet and help. You had to stay inside. That’s when you met her. She must have seen you watching them, and she practically bounced over to your window, breathed on it and started writing on it. The two of you did that for hours while the grown-ups unpacked. You’ve been best friends ever since.

Chelsea and Maddox always had a thing in high school. Maddox always seemed a little strange and sometimes you both wished he was a little less insane. All that nerd mumbo jumbo made your heads spin, but not in that creepy Exorcist way. Maddox was always proclaiming, “I may be crazy, at least I’m medicated!” He was such a dweeb sometimes but he always made you guys laugh. The guy was a true gem. You just can’t believe he’s gone without a trace.

Toby went looking for him a few months back. Your boyfriend was eerily protective of you, ever since the zombie dudes incident. He was hell-bent on making sure you didn’t lose another friend and take the blame for it, especially when it couldn’t possibly be your fault to begin with. You remembered calling Toby and telling him to stop the search. You could feel your gut telling you, this wasn’t normal. Something happened, a Winchester kind of thing, and you guys made a promise. A pact even. You were not to go a-hunting.

You turn your head to the sky; the sun is beginning to fade and the Nebraska sky is showing why it’s Nebraska. You sigh, still not ready to stand up on the pavement. You’re getting too lost in your thoughts and memories. “I was intense, you said. To that I silently took offense while you laughed, but I didn’t think it was funny.” Toby insisted your gut instinct was just fear and he continued searching. Two months ago, there was a report on the news, a young man had been found. Dead. Toby was dead. No one knew how, when, where, or why. He was just found. Police say where he was found is not where he died.

You never even went to the funeral. He should have listened! Tommy, Maddox, Toby, and then your worst fear realized; it was Chelsea’s turn. She invited you to some weird ass event her beauty class was doing, and you agreed to go but never made it. You got swamped at work and then your car stalled. You tried to call and let her know you’d be late and possibly miss the event altogether. She never picked up. You assumed, and justly so as any person would, that she was busy with her event. The next morning you got her voicemail, Hey, it’s Chelsea. It’s filling up in here so I was saving your place. I was scared you’d be replaced and I didn’t want to sit with a stranger. Hope to see you soon!

It was cryptic to say the least. Fear of getting replaced? You never did figure out what she was talking about. Later that afternoon, she was declared missing and three weeks later her body turned up, just like Toby’s. You were the only one left. You couldn’t stop asking yourself if their deaths were your fault. It seemed like the only common denominator in everyone’s deaths was you. So how could you stop yourself from making the same mistake?

You knew you couldn’t go looking for Maddox and you couldn’t try to discover what happened to Toby and Chelsea. You placed a call to Dean’s phone and Sam’s phone as back up, in case Dean didn’t get the call. You left messages on each. You never heard from them either. You felt utterly helpless. And alone.

Whatever was coming for you, you knew it was coming. It had to be. You did attend Chelsea’s funeral. It was awful. The only thing as awkward as goodbye, was standing up in your seat to let her by. You should have been a pall bearer, but you just couldn’t handle it. You didn’t know how you fought the tears back as her casket solemnly made its way past you.

The pavement’s coolness seemed to finally dissipate. It took you way too long to realize that it was backwards. In the hot afternoon sun, it should have been warm and in the evening, it should have been cool. It was cool in the afternoon and cold in the evening. You thought on it, and it seemed as if everything else was normal except for that one thing. The pavement was horribly off, like someone forgot how it worked when they made a world just for you. A world. Just for you.

Sam and Dean were very solemn as they built a funeral pyre. They were preparing yet another hunter’s funeral. This one was different though. They were used to burning their friends and family, that was the hunters’ way after all but this was for a kid. A kid they knew once, a kid they rescued and swore to secrecy. The Winchesters had gotten the kid’s phone messages too late; they arrived too late. The brothers had investigated the deaths of Toby and Chelsea, and while it took a little longer to get done, they did find Maddox.

Maddox was just as dead as the other two were. Sam and Dean tried to keep hope that they could save the last one, but they were just too damn late. Two years ago, they taught these kids about hunting and monsters, but they clearly didn’t teach enough. The Winchesters hoped none of the kids were aware of what happened, that the dreams were real enough so they’d never know the Djinn were feeding off of them.

They burned the carcass of Maddox where they found him, and Toby and Chelsea had been properly buried. They didn’t have the heart to dig them up to burn them; they wanted to leave them undisturbed for the grieving parents. Sam struggled to light the match, his tall frame sagging with sorrow. He remembered how brave this kid was, two years ago leading the assault against a zombified town. He knew he’d never meet this kid again, never speak again.

Dean was blaming himself. “Dean, it wasn’t your fault.” Sam tried to console his older brother.

“I know Sammy, I just can’t help thinking if I had gotten to my phone sooner. Maybe in another life, maybe we could have been…”

“I know, I know.” Sam choked back tears, “maybe we could have saved them, all of them. But we didn’t, we couldn’t. You remember the Djinn, it’s likely these kids died pain free, not knowing what was happening. We can take that with us, knowing they didn’t suffer.”

“Yeah, whatever. Just light the damn thing up, I want to get back on the road.”

Sam just looked at Dean and bit his tongue. Dean was dying inside and standing here watching an innocent kid burn in a funeral pyre, was just too much right now. Sam flicked the lighter on and tossed it onto the mound. Neither brother would ever admit it, but each said a silent prayer to Chuck to watch over these kids in heaven. Sam prayed for Chelsea to be reunited with her brother Tommy, and Dean just prayed that they’d have better heavens than they did final medicated dreams.

[ellen-reincarnated1967]

She Waits

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Reader, mentions of Kevin Tran, Naomi, Castiel, Azazel, and Crowley

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings/Triggers: Angst, possibly some tears, mentions of blood, nothing too graphic.

A/N: Set during the “Trials”, Sam sets out to close the gates to Hell. This will be told from the Reader’s POV as to what she is witnessing.  

Challenge: Written for @mrswhozeewhatsis 2018 Louden Swain Fanfic and Fanart Project.  I chose the song, She Waits, by Louden Swain.  This song, no matter how you discern it, speaks volumes to me.  It never ceases to bring me to tears and it has nothing to do with waiting for the love of your life to return.  To me, it’s that love and glimmer of hope that we hang onto so strongly, that nothing, not even wild horses can tear from our grasp.  I’d like to personally thank the band in its entirety, for making me feel again- the first time I heard this song was at NashCon 2017, and while I was gob smacked by all the fanfare, smiling from ear to ear, this song smacked me upside the head, ripped at my breastplate, and shocked my heart into a myriad of emotions.  I hope that I do it justice. Rob’s performance threw me into a fit of concern, knowing of his past health issues, and the power and tears he fought through singing this song, had me wanting to keep him safe from it all. I commented to my best friend @jodyri that I wanted to put Rob in my pocket and keep him safe.  She replied with, “he’s a grown ass man, Andi.” Shrugging, I replied, “and yet he cries and I will always want to protect him.”

Lyrics can be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xWm-ba52o9Q

Word Count: 2244

Have faith

Promises were made

You just take care and behave

You left, and now you are saved

The path, it walks you away

Sam Winchester has always had this complex from the moment I laid my eyes on his weathered face.  While the world was in need of saving, this man, stitched together by duct tape and safety pins, long before the Trials, needed his own savior.  He silently would pray to a God that we had never seen with our own eyes, but it was his pure yet naive belief, that with all the sins that were borne of his fight to save the innocent, he was in dire need of a baptism, a cleansing, purification by what was written by this God, on tablets as weathered as he.  

Sam had an unwavering faith in his brother, the cause, the angel that considered him once an abomination, and his faith in me was the one thing I wished I had at least nine tenths of possession.  The pain that he had gone through, the losses, the childhood he never had, a house he could never call a home, were not obstacles in his path, no, they were mere stepping stones leading up to this moment.  He promised me that no matter what, he would close those gates to Hell, our lives would be less of a burden, the losses we took, would dwindle, and we’d find every last demon released on Earth, and when the last was sent back to its place in Hell, maybe, just maybe we could finally just be.  

The first trial, according to the prophet, our friend, Kevin, was to bathe in the blood of a hellbeast.  Dean in all his eldest brother machismo, called dibs on the Trials, but in the end, it was Sam, who lay drenched in the blood of a hellhound, his knife gutting the beast from belly to nose.  The look in his eyes was something I had seen many times over; relief, protection, weariness. He saved us once again, but at what cost?

Kah nuh ahm dahr

As Sam read the Enochian incantation, from my seated position, I saw this incredible light as bright as a sunset, traverse up his forearm, the pain most obvious by the clenched jaw, the way his body turns into itself, his eyes brimming with tears he refuses to let fall.  He looked to me, as worry filled my very being, mouthed that he was okay, and turned to his brother as if nothing supernatural occured.  That’s how the three of us acted; Dean stowed away his worry drinking, Sam pushed himself onto the next task, and I was with him every step of the way.  We spend every waking moment with one another, we brush our teeth together, we run five miles every morning, and that’s how I noticed that Sam was not himself.  Blood mixed with water, droplets in the sink, that coppery taste with a kiss goodnight, did not go unnoticed.  Yet he carried on with the Trials.  And I- waited by his side, doing whatever in my power I could.  

And meanwhile the house is empty

The floors lay, naked and weary

The walls, barely hanging on

Carry on

And she waits for you

Last night

You left like a bird

Fly away, and never be heard

The wind, it's cold and absurd

But, man, you gave her your word

The second trial it was decided to save a soul from Hell and it came to be an absolute shock when we were informed by this “taxi driver” that our Bobby, had never made it to Heaven.  Crowley hijacked his soul and sent it to suffer unbeknownst to us, for months, possibly years, in a cage in Hell. As Dean bargained with the driver for three tickets down, four back, Sam pulled us aside and told us he was doing this alone.  Dean, stoic, sans a tick of his jaw, knew Sam was right, but had not dared to say the words.  I, on the other hand, did not let my voice go unheard.  I walked to Baby’s trunk and armed myself with a few knives and the brass knuckles I favored, and planted myself in front of Sam.  Determined and stubborn, he knew breaking the promise that he had made me long ago, will break me more than if he didn’t return.  Yet, Sam shook his head, kissed me like it would be the last time, and shoved me into Dean’s arms.  I fought against Dean’s stronghold, I even elbowed him in the stomach, but to no avail. As Dean peeled away from the alleyway, I watched with tear stained cheeks, Sam take the driver’s hand and disappear like a bird in the wind.

Sam made it back, I always knew he would, but he came back more weathered and torn, his burdens lay bare on his shoulders, the way he carried himself towards us as if he was hunched from the pain. We anchored him, planted ourselves on either side of him as he drew the blade  into his forearm and we watched as Bobby’s soul floated towards Heaven, only to be caught in some sort of black smoke.

Crowley.

Another player in the game that we were not going to lose, regardless of the stakes, I watched in absolute shock as both the King of Hell and the watcher of angels, Naomi, fought one another, their contrasting powers ricocheted off one another, until Crowley was beaten.  While Sam was in Hell, we were visited by Naomi and Castiel, who revealed to us that Metatron was lying to us.  We were mere pawns in his game to overtake Heave and cast out the angels.  It was then my suspicions were confirmed.  Sam, if he completed these trials, would not only seal the gates once and for all, but the final task, the fine print, if you will, of God’s plan, was a sacrifice.  

Sam’s life for the human race.

Sam was burning, literally from the insides out, and he kept on trudging.  I begged him to stop and he begged me to let him go.  I’ve fought countless demons, suffered tortuous pain from my captors, angelic, monstrous, and sometimes, human, but what Sam was asking of me, was the hardest and most unimaginable pain I could only fathom.  I swore to him that I’d let him finish, damn the consequences. I knew he had taken on too much, he felt a burden to Dean, always had, no matter how many times Dean promised him it was okay. It was okay that we didn’t go looking for him in Purgatory, it was okay that we tried to live an apple pie life, it was okay.  

It really never was.  We were bested by the lies we told.  The more we lied the more Sam became an empty shell of the man I fell in love with. These were not only God’s Trials, they were his and mine as well.  Sam felt as if this was his chance at purification from the stigma of being chosen by Azazel.  It was then that I felt that all I had given him, the love, the reassurance, the promises of forever, was never enough.  

And meanwhile the house is empty

The floors lay, naked and weary

The walls, barely hanging on

Carry on

And she, waits for you

Despite the feeling of being not enough for Sam, I waited.  I would continue to wait for him to see that he was enough for me.  

Third and final trial, cure a demon.  I found myself laughing at the preposterous task.  Perhaps, that’s when Dean realized I had finally broke.  He didn’t acknowledge it, no, rather we schemed to capture Crowley and Sam planned to use the findings in the Men of Letters' lore, that it was absolutely possible to cure a demon.  For they were once human, after all.  Tucked away in an abandoned church, Sam prepared the ritual.  Extracting his blood, sanctifying it, and injecting it into the soulless one.  Extract, purify, inject.

Extract.

Purify.

Inject.

The more Sam gave of himself to save Crowley, the more torn apart Sam became.  The skin on his arms was peeling, the hollowness of his eyes became more prominent, his once tawny complexion, was that of a ghost’s echo.  I stayed outside; another promise to Sam.  I wouldn’t allow Dean to stop him.  

Promises are fickle when you love someone.  Do you break them when their life is in peril or do you suffer and condemn yourself as well?  As I pondered these dauntless questions, I was distracted when Dean appeared, determined, to get to Sam.  He was shouting at me, words I could not, no, would not register, because I made a promise to Sam.  I fought Dean as best as any hunter could, but he could never be bested, not by the likes of me. I stumbled as he apologized, clocking my jaw, pushing past the church’s doors, and begging Sam to stop the trials.

You’ll die, Sam.

So?

One word so devastating that when Dean looked to me, to back him up, I resolutely stood my ground, tears silently streaking down my cheeks, the blood on my lip smeared on the back of my hand, hands that were now fists at my sides.  Realization hit Dean in the gut- he was caught breathless.

You knew? You knew he’d die and you, what, YNN, you did nothin’?

I promised.

She promised.  She stood by me, Dean, stood by me, when I was nothing but a burden to you.  You know what I confessed in there, Dean?  My greatest sin?

That I wasn’t good enough for you; you can’t do this with me, Dean. You think I need a chaperone, remember?

I failed you, Dean.  That is my greatest sin.  And...I can’t do that again.

Don’t you think, that there isn’t anything past or present, that I wouldn’t put in front of you, Sammy.  

She can't hear anything they're saying

She can't believe what is true

It doesn't make sense what they're saying

She can't see anyone, but you

Sam let it go- he failed to complete the last trial, because he finally heard from Dean what he had needed to hear.

He was enough.

As he whimpered in relief as the sickness dimmed from his arms, he doubled over, and I bolted to his side, bolstering him upright with Dean, once again.  Yet, the irony of it all, we weren’t enough to save him.  It was too late and that will be the one thing that will keep me alive, because a swift death would be too easy a way out. I will wait for him.

Little girl

Hold on and wait

It's not fair, the fairness is overrated

Wait and you will be saved

The path, it walks in this way

The angels fell.  

My angel fell.  

Into a comatose state; machines would be his life support.  

I found Dean in the chapel, I heard his prayers.  How weak I had become during these Trials, any other hunter would laugh in my face as once again, I let the tears fall.  I just didn’t care enough anymore.  All I wanted was Sam back.  Call me selfish, call me a traitor.  He was always good enough for me.  As I walked back to Sam’s side in the hospital room, I crawled up against his seemingly lifeless body, and curled into his broken shell.

I waited.  

I would wait for Dean’s prayers to be answered.  

I would wait to break Sam’s promise.  

I would continue to wait for the love of my life.

And meanwhile the house is empty

The floors lay, naked and weary

The walls, barely hanging on

Carry on

And she, waits for you

She waits for you

She waits

Tags: @one-shots-supernatural @oneshoeshort @mrswhozeewhatsis @sammit-janet @saxxxology @pinknerdpanda @wheresthekillswitch @emptywithout @jodyri @hiddenwritingsintheworld @oriona75 @kittenofdoomage @kazosa @emilyymichelle @ladywinchester1967 @charliebradbury1104 @growningupgeek @emoryhemsworth @sisterhoodofsam @sis-tafics @d-s-winchester @iwantthedean @chelsea072498 @thing-you-do-with-that-thing  @iwriteshortstuff @bringmesomepie56 @samwincstr @xtina2191 @speakinvain @chloemac86 @20secspnfam4 @manawhaat @rizlowwritessortof @kas-not-cas @luci-in-trenchcoats @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you @faith-in-dean @fast-times-in-the-impala @impala-dreamer @impalaimagining @mooseleys @peggingpadalecki @capturingsamwinchester @captainrogerss @womanoflettersqueenofmoons16 @soaringeag1e @river-alice-wolf @riversong-sam

[iwantthedean]

Alright

Summary: Though the reader tries to get as far away from the Winchesters and the British Men of Letters as possible, her past with Dean keeps her from getting too far.  Pairing: Dean x Reader Word Count: 825 Warnings: Spoilers for Season 12.  Challenge: Louden Swain 2018 Fanfic/Fanart Project. @mrswhozeewhatsis A/N: For 2017′s Louden Swain challenge, I wrote a fic entitled St. Louis, inspired by the song of the same name from their album Able-Legged Heroes. This fic is a follow-up to that, from the reader’s POV. Again, I went with the feel of the song and how I interpret it, so hopefully it won't seem incredibly out of left field. 

I love you, but you’re wrong. About them. The Brits will kill you and Sam, and I can’t stand back and watch it happen. I’m sorry.

The words you had written and left on Dean’s night stand when you left the bunker scrolled on an endless loop  through your brain as you drove away from Lebanon. You didn’t want to leave; it was actually the last thing you had ever wanted or imagined you would do. But once you found the microphone under the war room and the brothers refused to believe that the Brits had left it there … you couldn’t stay and watch them die. 

When Dean had implied that you were excluded from his family, you knew it was time to go. You packed your bag and took one last look around. 

The chairs you had shoved over were still on the ground. The hole in the wall Dean had punched hadn’t been patched up. The brothers left with Mary to rendezvous with the British Men of Letters, you begged off under the guise of doing research; in truth, you didn’t want a big dramatic show when you left. You just wanted it to be over. 

“Then why does it feel like I’m abandoning them?” you asked yourself out loud. 

You ran a hand through your hair as you merged onto the highway. Once you were comfortably in the middle lane, you set the cruise control and worked on getting some music playing. Maybe that sound would drown out the thoughts that reminded you over and over again that you had no desire to be where Dean wasn’t. 

“Maybe I should have stayed,” you sighed. 

What would staying have accomplished, though? More furniture knocked over, more holes in walls. More things said that both you and Dean meant but never should have verbalized. 

Like how stubborn he was, how much he let his loyalty become blind allegiance when it came to his family — a part of his life that obviously didn’t include you. 

“Pride,” Sam had said before, “that’s what’s going to take both of you down.”

How right he had been. Of all the things you had learned in life, controlling your pride had not been one of them. Too often, that emotion welled in your chest and flowed straight out of your mouth — which was exactly how the argument with Dean had started. 

“Mick Davies and Arthur Ketch are full of shit,” you told him, tossing in his direction the microphone you had found under the table. 

Dean rolled his eyes and tossed the microphone back onto the table. “I’m not going to tell you it wasn’t them, but I’m not going to confront them about it. We just left their headquarters — we’re all in this together now, sweetheart.”

That news had sent you straight over the edge, and resulted in the fight that had prompted you to actual made good on your thoughts of leaving. 

“No more of that, shit,” you told yourself, turning up the music. 

A perfectly distracting song ended and Led Zeppelin took their turn on your playlist. You groaned; “The Rain Song” was Dean’s chosen song for the two of you. Every time he played it, he would take your hand and pull you close so the two of you could enjoy a private moment together. You would protest, complain about how long the song was, but eventually you would give in and accept the affection Dean offered. Secretly, you wished that song would play every day for the two of you. 

You pulled over to the side of I-24 then, and let your emotions get the best of you. Oh, you didn’t cry, but you leaned your head against the steering wheel and tried to figure out just how in the hell it had all come to this — you and Dean, on opposite sides of a war. 

The turn signal clicked when you flipped it on, waiting for a moment to merge into traffic. You nearly took out another car in your haste, but once the decision to go back had been made, you didn’t want to waste a single second. 

Your mobile was in the passenger seat, and you picked up to call Dean, to at least warn him that you were coming back home. Frowning at the screen and the notification you hadn’t seen until now, you checked your voicemail before placing the call. 

Hey, it’s me. I – you were right. About the Brits. Ketch has brainwashed my mom, Lady Toni what’s-her-face and Sam are arguing in the war room – oh, we’re trapped in the bunker, by the way. They’ve locked everything from the outside, they’ve stopped the air pumps. This is it …

As the message continued, Dean’s words faded out to the chords of the very song that had prompted you to return home, you pressed down harder on the accelerator, more anxious than ever to get back home. 

[atc74]

Love Isn’t Fair

Written for: @mrswhozeewhatsis‘s 2018 Louden Swain FanFic FanArt Project

Pairing: Chuck x Reader (YOU), previous Dean x Reader, previous OFC x Reader (This really isn’t about the pairing - fair warning)

Warnings: Domestic Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Angst

Word Count: 2586

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. THERE ARE MULTIPLE TRIGGERS. 

Thank you to @mrswhozeewhatsis for her guidance and support throughout this process. Thank you for letting me be me. 

I sat down on my bed, feet tucked under me. ‘This is stupid,’ I thought. I hadn’t written in a journal since I my freshman year in college. Then, it was fueled by too much drinking and melodrama, not an actual desire for understanding or closure. I’d even tried my hand at poetry a few times. But my therapist suggested that after everything I have been through, that it would be a good idea for me to ‘journal’ my thoughts, feelings, and what have you. She said writing can be cathartic. As a writer, I knew this to be true, but I had also never written to myself before.  I had been given this assignment a while back, but the time hadn’t been right.

I thought back over the last several years, and what my life had been, and what it had become. I had been nervous about trying to date again, and about being a single parent while dating. I hadn’t had the greatest track record before my marriage, so I’d questioned what made me think I could do it with another human to think about? Someone that depended solely on me?

I had been born a hunter, raised by hunters to do nothing but hunt. I followed every order I was given. Every direction I was pointed in, I went. I knew there was something else out there for me, I just hadn’t discovered it, yet. I tried college for a while, but realized pretty quickly that wasn’t going to fill my soul, not knowing what I knew. I wandered aimlessly from hunt to hunt, motel to motel, state to state, across the country more times than I could count. I found love and lost love. More than once, it was violent or bloody, often both.   

Recently, I had been lucky enough to meet Chuck, an amazing man that not only stole my heart, but my son’s as well. He wasn’t a hunter, but he knew enough about the hunting life that I didn’t have to hide my past from him or what I really knew. He even knew Dean Winchester and his brother, Sam. Chuck had welcomed my baggage with open arms and together we’d built a new life, a happy and healthy life. With a new chapter on the horizon, it was time to close the old one. With a deep breath, I opened the brand new journal to page one and picked up my pen.

Dear Diary~

I was nineteen when I swore I met the love of my life, Dean Winchester, another young hunter. We happened to both be working the same case; a shifter that was wreaking havoc in a small town in Northern Michigan. Once the monster was disposed of, we found other ways to fill our time. In my short life, I had never met anyone that made me feel the way Dean did. I was lost to him in every sense of the word.

My parents warned me that it wouldn’t last with a Winchester. But, young love knows no logic. It was fueled by passion and was fast paced. But Dean and I were a bit like fire and ice, oil and water; we looked good together, but were bad for each other.  The sex kept getting better and better, but the hunting became dangerous the more we got wrapped up in each other.  We became reckless.

When that fell apart, I was heartbroken, and my solution was to run into the arms of the next man that opened them. Eric was not a hunter, but a normal guy with a normal job and a life that consisted of watching every televised sport imaginable.

We tried hard - okay, I tried hard -  to make myself normal, but when you are hiding what you really know, along with who you really are, it doesn’t build a lot of trust in a relationship. That one lasted three years, but the writing was on the wall long before that. I just didn’t see it until he didn’t invite me to his sister’s wedding just weeks before our demise. That stung a little. Oh, well. I moved on and was a better person for it. Eric didn’t really love me the way I needed him to love me and it was evident. After all, he never really loved the real me, did he? How could he, when he had never met me?

Remember, Dean Winchester, the love of my life? As luck would have it, I ran into him once more, five years later, on a werewolf hunt. After I stitched him and read him the riot act for jumping in front of me, it got hot and heavy. We were both more mature than we had been and we decided to try again, but it wasn’t meant to be. If it had truly been love, it would have lasted, yes? I still think about him to this day, especially on my birthday, as we shared one.

I took a few years off; I even swore off men for an entire year. I think it was healthy. I learned who I really was without a man and I have to say, I really liked that girl. She was fun, spunky, feisty, even. She discovered she should have been born a redhead and lived life to the fullest. The most important thing I think I learned was that I loved myself. I was enough for me and if someone didn’t like that or wanted to change me, then they weren’t worth my time. I continued to hunt, mostly on my own after discovering I really enjoyed just being me.

As I entered my late twenties, I tried to find that love, that feeling that consumed my soul, but also made me a better person. When I was twenty-eight, I met Bill, another hunter. He was full of life and liked to have a good time. We courted, and were married within thirteen months. We had good, dare I say great times. We were inseparable and shared many interests, one of which happen to be the hunt, the feeling of adrenaline rushing through our veins after a good fight and booze.

I think back and remember the passion, both good and bad, and I know he loved me. But now I have to think...did I love him, or did I love the idea of someone loving me that much?  A wise woman told me when I was young, maybe nineteen or twenty years old, “Find a man that loves you more than you love him and you will never have to worry about whether or not he is faithful.” I thought I had found “the one.” It turns out, how much he loved me didn’t matter if he loved something else more.

Relationships are hard. Relationships with baggage (his, not mine) are harder. He came with a daughter. A beautiful, blonde-haired, blue-eyed little girl that we spent as much time with as we could when we were not hunting. Things were really good for a few years. A few months after our third anniversary, I found out I was pregnant. I had always wanted to be a mother, but I was terrified. Bill wasn’t very supportive at first when I told him. His daughter was almost nine and the first words out of his mouth were, “I was nine years from freedom.” Wow.

The following April I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, while he drank beer in my hospital room; he even brought his own cooler. I was too drugged up and happy about the birth of my son to see the red flag. We had also decided to settle down and bought a house at the same time, so I was home with our brand new baby and he was out hunting. I left the life on the road when I got pregnant and strictly did research for him. But each time Bill came home, I noticed the drinking increased dramatically. I chalked it up to stress: new baby, new house, same jobs, less money, more expenses.  Only, it didn’t really slow down.

I remember one day in particular, because it was his birthday. Bill was fit to be tied because we had plans. A friend’s wedding and his birthday all fell on the same day. He had begun drinking when he woke up and was irate because I had made plans on his birthday. He started screaming and calling me names. His daughter was visiting for the weekend and now both she and the baby were crying. He picked up a laundry basket and launched it across the room where it hit a lamp, shattering the glass shade and bulb all around the living room.

I directed his daughter to take the baby and hide upstairs in her bedroom. Bill came up the stairs and carried me back down with his elbow locked around my neck, until we landed in the kitchen, where he threw a chair at me. Luckily he missed because he was too drunk to see straight. Like a lot of other women, I didn’t call the police; we’re hunters. I called his friend, a fellow hunter, and he came right over and as soon as Bill saw him, he was right as rain and happy as a damn clam. I will never forget the fear in his daughter’s eyes, or the screams from the mouth of my fourteen-month old son. Minutes later, it was like nothing had ever happened.

Years go by, and the drinking not only continued, but it escalated. We had a few neighbors over here and there, but soon, even they stopped hanging out with us. I had isolated my family because of him and stopped enjoying so many things I had loved before him. I became withdrawn and turned into a shadow of my former self. I gained weight. In short, I was miserable.

First Corinthians chapter thirteen says: “Love is patient; love is kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things....faith, hope, love, but the greatest of these is love.”

But the thing is, it wasn’t. Not anymore. Love was no longer enough. The love I had for him turned into resentment and disgust. I found a creative outlet for that anger and I started writing. I made new friends and suddenly, my world was larger than I ever thought possible. I became brave. I stood up for myself. Instead of the timid woman I had become, I rediscovered the girl I once was. Gone was the mousy brown hair that I hid behind. I emerged from the cocoon, a redhead once again and I began to find my way back.

I distanced myself from Bill and started doing things on my own again. I stepped out of my comfort zone. I lost weight and gained new confidence. The old me, the fun me was back; but she was still a mom. And I vowed never to lose myself again.

Somewhere along the way, our vows went astray. The affair he had with alcohol was not a sin of the flesh, it was a sin of the heart; one that was too important for him to give up for his family. I felt betrayed. I can’t stand what he put me through; what he put our son through. There were too many lies, years and mountains of broken deals. All I asked for was honesty and even that was too much.

He left on another hunt and I filed for divorce after a very long and tiring winter. I know I will have to atone for my sins as well, as small as they are. I gave up on us, gave up on him after fifteen years. It may not sound like my sins are real, but I never thought I would be that woman who leaves her husband. But the moment he put our son in jeopardy was the day I decided enough was enough; my heart was in despair and there was no coming back from that if I didn’t do something. I was already there, and I needed to crawl back out.

Chuck, the true love of my life, I actually met by accident. I walked into my neighborhood tattoo parlor one day and there he was. He inked me with my first post-separation tattoos. He didn’t comment on the quotes I had chosen. We talked and he instantly won me over with his odd charm, sparkling blue eyes and salt and pepper beard that hid a mischievous smile.  We developed a strong friendship that led to a stronger relationship with a solid bond of trust and love.  Chuck taught me a lot about myself, too.

I learned that it was okay to close my eyes and let go of the hurt inside. I have the faith that the hurt will fade and I will be stronger and better for it.

“...faith, hope, love, but the greatest of these is love.” For me, the greatest of these is faith.

~Y/N

I close the cover and lay my journal aside just as a knock sounds softly at my door and the same blue eyes I have been looking at in the mirror my entire life find mine. “Hey Mom? Can I come in?”

“Sure, Buddy. You want to watch a movie?” I asked as he snuggled up to my side. He isn’t small, but he always fits perfectly right there.

“Sure. Can we watch The Avengers?” He looked up at me from under a blond mess of shaggy bangs. “And can we have apples and peanut butter?”

“Yes we can, Bud. You start the movie, I’ll be right back with the snacks.” I rose from my seat.

“Hey Mom?” he called out for me.

“Yeah Bud?” I turned back to him from the top of the stairs. .

“I love you.” He smiled and blew me a kiss. I caught it with one hand and put it in my pocket for later.

As I sliced up an apple, I thought ahead to the following weekend and what was waiting for me... for us. The man that had fallen in love with us had asked us to marry him. We would be wed in just a few days time. A new love; a new beginning.

Faith, hope love...I know that Chuck loves me, loves us. I have faith that this will be the forever love that I had been searching for. And hope for a wonderful and long future together. But there is so much more.  Maybe the greatest of these is love. It is the unconditional love of a child that has seen more than he ever should have had to see in his short life. It’s the hope that I have for him that he won’t repeat the cycle. It’s the faith I have that no matter how many hard days there are, it’s moments like this that show me I made the right choice, not just for me, but for him. So maybe love isn’t fair, but this? This is the greatest love of my life and I will take that every day of the week and twice on Sunday.

Author’s footnote: This is based on my personal experience, all of the incidents in this fic happened to me. This was the hardest thing I have ever written. When I found Supernatural three years, I started to find myself again. The friends [family :)] I have made here have helped give me the strength I needed again.

Two weeks before the divorce papers were served, I got the two tattoos that I have been waiting for. I found strength in a little band with a funny name, deep lyrics and a strong, charismatic front man. 

The road is long and will be hard to navigate at times, but I know with the support of my friends and family, I am on the right path. I am the captain of my story. I close my eyes and let go of the hurt inside. I have the faith that the hurt will fade and I will be stronger and better for it.

To my readers: Please, please, if you find yourself in a similar situation, please seek assistance, call the police, get out.

To Rob, Billy, Stephen and Mike - thank you for the beautiful music you create. It does more than you know. 

The Whole Enchilada - join the fiesta: @sis-tafics  @holyfuckloueh @gh0stgurl @hobby27  @bethbabybaby @anspgene @paintrider13-blog @cyrilconnelly @chelsea072498 @just-another-busy-fangirl @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms @d-s-winchester @roxyspearing @heyitscam99 @iwantthedean @jpadjackles @mogaruke @smoothdogsgirl @x-waywardaf-x @myoutletforfanfiction @growningupgeek @spnbaby-67 @wonderange @emoryhemsworth @crispychrissy @impalaimagining @feelmyroarrrr @docharleythegeekqueen @katymacsupernatural @hennessy0274-blog @esoltis280 @shaelyn102 @rockhoochie @charliebradbury1104 @pinknerdpanda @hannahindie @wingedcatninja​ @highfunctioning-sociopath @speakinvain @evansrogerskitten @percussiongirl2017​ @blacktithe7​ @winchesterprincessbride​ @theoriginalvicki​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @sweetpeamoose​ @mamaredd123​ @sandlee44​ @mottergirl99​ @meeshw777​ @squirrel-moose-winchester​ @milkymilky-cocopuff​ @meganwinchester1999​ @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​ @grace-for-sale​ @4401lnc​  @countrygal17a​ @tina8009​ @andkatiethings​ @nanie5​ @jbbarnesgirl @monkeymcpoopoo​ 

The Dean’s List: @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @supernatural-jackles @trunk-full-of-ideas @kayteonline @ruprecht0420 @kathaswings @bringmesomepie56 @deandoesthingstome @starry-chaos  @dean-winchesters-bacon @pisces-cutie​

Chuck’s List: @natasha-cole @ellen-reincarnated1967 @a-queen-and-her-throne @shanghai88

[leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid]

Louden Swain - Three Car Garage

“Breathing, seething, you don't believe Family relations aren't what they seem Empty feelings invent the past Lonely and longing These things don't last”

From the album Able-Legged Heroes for @mrswhozeewhatsis and her 2018 Louden Swain Fanfic Fanart Project

[a-winchester-fairytale]

Amazing

Summary:  Inspired by Louden Swain's song AMAZING

Word Count: 2,383 (no warnings)

A/N: I wrote this for a project for Rob and Louden Swain, run by @mrswhozeewhatsis to show them how much their music inspires us.  The song I chose was Amazing, because the lyrics mean a lot to me. 

It was very personal to me to tell a story from the readers POV, and it just never came out in a way that I felt was good enough for Rob's song.Instead I tried writing it from Dean's POV.  The story changed some, but the major things that I take from the lyrics, I feel are still there. 

I hope you enjoy reading this story, and please check out the song Amazing (along with their other songs) if you haven't already.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rob - You give so much of yourself to your fans, especially through your music. We could never thank you enough for sharing your words with, not only the SPN Family, but with the world.  You have the most calming presence of anyone I have ever met and I am so grateful that you are here.  See you in Vegas! <3

It all started at the end. 

The end of the road, the end of a song, the end of a life.  That’s where I found everything I never knew I wanted, and my world started turning again.

She was sassy, among other things.  It was the sass that caught my attention.  I’d never heard a girl talk like that to someone she barely knew, certainly never heard one talk to me that way. 

I had walked into that little bar on the south side of a dead end road somewhere in the middle of North Dakota.  Sam and I had been hunting nonstop for a month, and he finally decided to stay the night in that run down motel room.  I just couldn’t sleep, my nerves too wound up and my mind wouldn’t stop thinking about how we lost the one person we were trying to save.  So, I did the only thing I knew to do and took off in my baby, just the two of us – windows down, music turned up, motor racing down the open road.  Don’t know how I ended up making a wrong turn, but maybe that was fate playing a card.  Who knows anymore?  I mean, at some point you just have to stop asking questions.

I guess I had been sitting there about an hour, just sipping on some rotgut whiskey when I first saw her dancing with her friends.  I envied her a little, that carefree feeling that I hadn’t felt in so many years I barely even remembered it existed.  I tried not to stare, I really did, but she must have caught me looking anyway.  As soon as that song ended, she walked away from those girls and came to sit at the bar beside me.

“You’re a Winchester.”  She accused, and I leaned back a little, wondering if I knew her from somewhere, as confident as she was about it.

“Dean.”  I answered, my eyes catching a hint of a hunters tattoo. 

She ordered a beer, turning those big blue eyes on me and smirked.  “I knew it.”  She praised herself and I had to chuckle a little.  “The minute I saw that car outside I figured it had to the famous impala of the Winchesters.”

“The one and only.”  I confirmed, beaming just a little.  I’m proud of that car, built her back up from scratch more than once.  Baby was our home, and if I’m being really honest, that car to me is like a part of the family.

She stayed perched up on that barstool for quite a bit of that night.  We chatted about cars, music, and of course hunting.  Last call came before I expected and she ordered a glass of Jack Daniels and slid it in front of me as she hoped off that barstool.

“Here, have the real stuff.  That cheap whiskey will kill you.”  She told me and I laughed.

“Most things in my life will.”  I joked, but her expression changed.  She almost looked sad to hear me say that.  Maybe it was my imagination, because she didn’t say anything about it.  Instead she grabbed my phone off the counter and started typing into it.

“Now you have my number.”  She said, handing the phone back to me.  She winked, and then turned to walk away to where her girlfriends were waiting with what I’m sure was the third degree.

“I don’t even know your name.”  I called after her.  She turned, flashed a smile that I swear made me want to make her smile for the rest of my life.

“If you want to know, you’ll have to call.”  She teased. 

I couldn’t help myself, so I waited until she was out of the door before I pushed CALL on the screen.  I could hear the laughter in her voice when she answered.

“And now you have mine.”  I told her and flipped the phone closed, figuring two could play this game.

+++

Sammy pestered me the entire ride back to the bunker the next day, but in his defense, I did have a stupid grin on my face that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard I tried.  I didn’t tell him about her, although I’m not sure why. 

I wandered around the bunker that next day, just trying to stay busy.  Nothing could keep my mind from going back to the thought of her.  The smell of her perfume had obviously found a permanent home in my nostrils, and all I wanted was to hear that voice again.

“This is crazy.”  I muttered to myself after I went into the kitchen for the third time, unable to remember what on earth I wanted in the first place. 

I had never really been lonely before.  I wasn’t even sure if I could call it that.  I was sitting in my room, staring at the phone in my hand when I suddenly just gave in and dialed her number.  I still felt like my life was my own, I just wanted her to be in it. 

“Took you long enough.”  Her voice brought a smile to my face and just made me feel …. I don’t know….happy?

“Are you going to tell me your name, or do I just get to call you Sassy?”  I threw back at her and she laughed. 

I had felt silk before and I could still remember how soft and smooth it was.  That’s how her laugh sounded – like silk.

“It’s Y/N, but Sassy works too.”  She replied.

+++

We talked on and off for weeks after that.  Finally, Sam and I had a case an hour from where I first met her.  I was so excited to see her again.  Even Sam teasing me about it couldn’t ruin my mood. 

We pulled into town, and I didn’t even wait to see what our motel room looked like.  As soon as Sam stepped out with his bag slung over his shoulder, I practically floored it.  I knew Sam would spend the first few hours interviewing people and doing research, and although I usually helped him, it wasn’t my favorite thing to do.  Honestly, I couldn’t have concentrated on anything, knowing she was so close and not being with her.  Thankfully, I think Sam understood that because he didn’t baulk at doing the leg work alone one single time.  Instead, he let me go, just telling me that he would call once he knew something.

As soon as I saw her, I felt my heart racing.  It actually made me a little nervous because it only did that when I was in the middle of a hunt and the adrenaline kicked in.  

She smiled, hoped in the passenger seat and turned the radio on like she belonged there.  “Hey, driver picks the music.”  I teased a little when she started flipping through the old box of cassette tapes I had on the floorboard, but she cocked her head at me and laughed.

“Not while I’m around….unless you want to let me drive that is.”  She said, putting her hand out like I was going to give her the keys.  I just shook my head and shifted into drive.

“Not a chance.”  I told her, glancing sideways to see her smile and shove Led Zeppelin in the tape deck.

She gave directions one step at a time, refusing to tell me where she was taking us.  I grumbled a little, but it was just for show.  I didn’t care.  All I cared about was that we were together.

We ended up just outside of town near the clearest lake I had ever seen.  “This is it.”  She announced, climbing out of the car. 

 It was fun, like the kind of fun I used to have when I was 21, laughing and joking around like we didn’t carry the weight of the world on our shoulders.  I knew that in the end we would both go back to hunting and heartache.  I could tell she knew it too.  

“Do you ever wish you weren’t a hunter?”  She asked, lying across the hood of my car.  I didn’t answer right away and she turned to look at me, sitting up as she did.

“Not anymore.”  I finally answered her.  Normally I would just make up some crap, but something about the way she looked at me that night made me want to tell the truth.

“But you did once?”

“Sure.”  I admitted.  “Somedays when it feels like nothing we do will change anything, I wonder what it would be like to have a family and the white picket fence – all of that.”

Don’t get me wrong, I love my life. The ‘family’ that I have shared it with can make any darkness brighter.  My life's an adventure movie – just like Indiana Jones, James Bond, or Batman even.  You can call me conceded maybe, but hell, I’d watch it.  Sometimes though, I wonder if I’m the only one who would. 

“What changed your mind?”  She pressed, and I felt my lips turn up into a grin.  The way she listened so intently to everything I said, it made me feel like she really cared.   

“I just realized that even if, in the end, no one else knows my story, I wouldn’t change one single thing.  I know who I am and what I’ve done.  Sam and I may live up to the hype about Legacies and Men of Letters, or we might not.  Either way, what I did with my life – it mattered to me.”

“I wish I had met you before I started hunting.”  She said, looking up at me with such sad eyes that it hurt me.  It was that same look she had the first night at the bar.  

“What is it?  What’s wrong?” I asked, not even trying to hide the concern in my voice.  She didn’t answer right away, instead sliding off of the hood.  I did the same, and tried to wait patiently, although the suspense was killing me. 

What was I supposed to say?  I couldn’t tell her what I wanted to – that I wasn’t going anywhere until she let me inside her head.  That wouldn’t have worked with me, and as much as I hate to admit it, it never worked with Sam.  That instinct only ever drove us apart, and that’s the last thing I wanted to happen with her.

“I know what’s out there now.  If I had met you before I started hunting, I wouldn’t be so scared to lose you every time you drive away.”  She admitted, not looking at me until she was done. 

 I didn’t know what to say, and my silence fueled her nervousness.  I could feel it as she rambled a little.  “It would be different if I could hunt with you and carry around angel grace to save you when you get hurt, but….”

She stopped as soon as I laughed.  I didn’t mean to, and I think she took it wrong at first.  She just looked so cute like that, and I guess it felt pretty good to know that she cared about me enough to wish for that. 

I reached out and ran my fingers along her cheek, taking away a tear that I saw falling from her eye.  When I did, she looked up at me and leaned her face into my palm like it was the first time she had human contact in years.  I knew that feeling.  I had felt that way so many times over the years, and that’s a feeling that no amount of alcohol can take away.

“You don’t need angel grace, sweetheart.  You save me every day.”  I whispered without even thinking about it.  As soon as I said those words, I think they shocked me almost as much as they did her.  What was more surprising was that I realized I meant them. 

I loved the way she looked at me then, blushing a little at the sentiment.  It was strange at first, seeing myself through someone else's eyes.  Those eyes were filled with faith in me.  A look that said I mattered, and that no matter how things ended up, I was enough.

When she finally reached up and kissed me, I saw what my life could be like with her.  I knew I should be helping Sam with research, or tracking down some monster.  All I could think about was wrapping my arms around her at night, and pulling the covers over our heads to drive away the morning. 

We climbed back in the car after that and I put my arm across the seat behind her, my fingers lightly grazing her shoulder.  Instinctively she slid closer to me, pressing against my side as we sped off – windows down, music playing, and a motor racing down the open road.

++++

“And that’s the story of how I met your mom.”  I told the little bundle curled up next to me on the couch.  This small little creature looked up at me with the same blue eyes as her mother and it melted my heart every single time.

“But, if she didn’t have angel grace, how did she save you?”  She asked, scrunching up her nose.  I laughed at that.

“She has something even better than angel grace, sweetpea.”  I told her, looking back and forth and then leaning really close like I was going to tell her the biggest secret in the world.  It was fun to watch her eyes get big with amazement every time I did that. 

“What, Daddy?  What does she have?”

“Amazing grace.”  I told her stressing the words and she gasped.  It was everything I could do not to double over with laughter.  “It’s more powerful because it is made purely of love.  That’s why it’s amazing.”

"Wow, really?"  She asked, the biggest grin on her face.  I nodded.

"You know what else?"  I encouraged and her face got so serious and she shook her head.

"No, what?"

"You have it too."  I told her, booping the tip of her nose with my finger.  She giggled and pushed my hand away - pretending to be embarrassed.

Yep - I couldn't get enough of that Amazing Grace.

Read more from my Masterlist here

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[rainbowitup]

He Dreamt He Was A Hero

“Hey Cas, are you okay?” Sam asks. His voice is soft as he rests a hand upon Castiel’s shoulder. It’s gesture of comfort he doesn’t want any part of.

Castiel can’t bring himself to look up at his friend, and instead, he resolutely stares down at the bottle of beer cupped in his hands. He’s seen nothing but pain and loneliness on the younger Winchester’s face since the horrible day Dean said yes to Michael. The longer Dean’s been gone, the more pain Sam openly displays, and Castiel can barely stand to look at him anymore.

He can’t handle more pain right now.

For years - almost a decade now - there has rarely been anything more important to him than Dean. He rebelled, he fell, he killed his own brothers and sisters. All for Dean. And feeling like this again reminds him of last summer, when Sam and Dean were both locked up and there was nothing he and Mary could do to get them back. He had never felt so useless in his entire existence. What was the point of being an angel when he couldn’t even locate them? Now, knowing Dean’s trapped inside his own body while the archangel Michael forces him to do who knows what, he feels even worse.

He swallows down the despair his thoughts have brought to his attention yet again, and answers Sam.

“No. I’m not okay. But there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“I talked to Rowena. If you want, there’s a potion she can make so you don’t have to see them anymore,” Sam says hesitantly.

“No,” Castiel growls immediately, breathing heavily through his nostrils as he tries to get some control over his sudden mood swing. Sam wisely removes his hand from Castiel’s shoulder.

“Nobody would blame you if you needed a break, Cas, that’s all I’m trying to say.”

“Save your breath,” he replies, his shoulders still heaving with the effort behind not taking his anger out on Sam again. “I won’t leave him.”

“You said you don’t even know if it’s really him,” Sam reminds him.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says between clenched teeth.

Even if they’re only his own hallucinations, and even if he gets pulled away the moment Dean looks at him, seeing Dean for a moment is better than not seeing him at all. The first time it happened, it had caught him entirely by surprise.

He had taken to spending time in Dean’s room. They all did from time to time, but him more than anybody considering he has eight hours to kill each night while everybody else sleeps. The familiar scent of the man he knew so well was comforting, and nobody seemed to mind or think anything of it when he started spending his nights in there. With no other leads and nowhere else he’d rather be anyway, he’d lie on Dean’s bed and reach out to him in his mind. He’d been doing it every night for weeks and nothing had ever come of it.

But this time, without anything changing on his part, he saw him.

He didn’t look like Michael - he didn’t have his wings, nor did he carry himself any differently than he always did. He was just Dean, gloriously Dean, in his green canvas jacket and jeans fitted tight to his bow legs, which were carrying him down a winding path in a dark but open field. His shoulders were slumped, and it was clear he was trapped in this foreign land the same as he was. Dean kept looking back over his shoulder, as if he was waiting on something - something real? - but Castiel could see he was utterly alone.

Castiel could feel his heart swell in his chest and emotion clog his throat just looking at him. After so many nights of trying and failing, there he was. There was Dean. And he looked well! He looked slightly anxious, yes, but he was alive and he didn’t appear to be injured.

He barely had time for relief to register before the night brought a multitude of evil creatures to surround Dean. He didn’t understand; one moment Dean was fine and alone on the path, and the very next instant he was surrounded. He couldn’t tell what the creatures were from where he was, but Dean was outnumbered and that was enough.

Castiel could feel the moonlight breeze in his wings as he dove towards him, not even thinking about why he’s flying with such ease for the first time in years. He knew he wasn’t making a sound, and he was nowhere close enough for him to be able to hear Dean, but hear him he did.

“Cas? If you got your ears on I could really use a hand down here.”

His voice rang clear and true in his head. Hearing the familiar way Dean said his name, the timbre of his voice, and the cadence in which he speaks would be enough to bring him to his knees if he were standing. He had never known he could miss anything as much as he missed the sound of Dean’s voice. Motivated beyond anything he’s ever felt, he doubled his speed, flattening his wings against his body and torpedoing towards Dean as fast as he could possibly go. Dean knew he’d come down to save him, and pride bloomed as he reached out for him. He was going to scoop him up and fly him away to safety, and he was never letting him out of his sight again.

To feel Dean in his arms again while he flies is a dream he never thought would come to pass, and emotions swirled inside of his chest when Dean looked up and he got his first glimpse of those green eyes for the first time in thirty-seven days.

“Dean,” he sighed.

But just as quickly as Dean was surrounded, there was a flash of panic and sorrow in Dean’s eyes, and he was gone. Just like that. Castiel wasn’t able to pull out of his landing, and instead, he crashed down into the earth, skipping across it like a stone on the water’s surface. When he finally came to stop, he was covered in dirt, he had grass in his teeth, and all he could feel was shame.

Shame on him.

He had Dean within his reach and he couldn’t get to him fast enough.

In a blink, he was back on Dean’s bed, completely clean and without his wings all over again. He remembers the way shame was still crashing over him like waves against a shoreline. He itched to open his wings and take off to the skies once again in search of Dean, but he couldn’t.

Anger flashed through him over the loss of his wings and the majority of his grace all over again. It seethes; it reminds him he’s not free to search every inch of the earth the way he still desperately wants to in order to locate and rescue Dean from his brother’s clutches, but without his wings he can’t, and he despised the rage almost as much as he despised himself.

Dean snapped back to his own consciousness that day, looking down at his body to see it in the same condition as it was in before his dream.

Was it even a dream?

Can you dream when you’re only existing in your own head?

He doesn't know. This whole situation is dumb as fuck. One minute he was in control of Michael and himself with more power racing through his veins than he’s ever felt in his life, and the next, he was doubled over in pain as everything he is and everything he’s ever been was crammed into what feels like a very tiny corner of his own brain.

It’s kind of like when you’re walking the line between sleep and consciousness. You can hear what’s going on around you, you don't really know where you are, and it sorta feels like you’re floating. That’s how it felt to be possessed by Michael.

That doesn’t mean he didn’t fight, though. He’d yelled in his own head, he’d beaten against the blank walls that trapped him inside, he’d swore a blue streak, but mostly he prayed. He prayed to Jack, to Chuck, to Amara, and even to that red headed angel, Anael. But more than anything, he prayed to Cas. He knew Sam, Jack, and Cas would be trying to find him, but as strong as Jack is, he’s always had a stronger connection with Cas than anybody else.

So now every single moment he has when he can think straight - when he knows who he is and what he’s fighting against - he prays to Cas. He begs for him. Fuck, he misses the feathered weirdo.

He thinks about those stupidly blue eyes and the way they’re almost always all squinty, like even after ten damn years spending time with them, he still has no idea what the hell’s going on most of the time.

He thinks about the heartbreak he saw in them the last time he saw him, right before everything went to shit. He thinks about what he said.

“Lucifer has Sam! He has Jack! I don’t have a choice!” He can see the pain in Castiel’s eyes before he spins back around to face Michael, but there just isn’t time for that right now.

After establishing the terms of the deal with Michael, he turns back to face Castiel. He’s gotta make time for this one thing; he doesn’t know if he’ll get another chance.

“This goes sideways, Cas, you take care of it. You hear me?”

Castiel’s eyes glitter with unshed tears as his mouth opens and closes like a fish. Dean eats up the space between them by taking a step towards him. “Listen to me, Cas. You know how these dicks with wings are better than anybody. If I can’t hold on, if I can’t win the fight, you talk to Rowena, you get whatever angels are left, and you do whatever you gotta do to gank Michael, even if it kills me. Got it?”

“No, Dean. I can’t kill you!” Castiel says, horror and betrayal written all over his face.

“You have to! You can’t let him destroy the world just to save one guy!”

“No,” Castiel says again. “You can’t ask me to do this.”

“Cas, I’m beggin’ you, man. You’re all I got right now. I’m counting on you.”

“No, Dean. You will fight this, just as you fought The Mark. You are The Righteous Man, and you can beat him. You are strong enough.” He lowers his voice to a whisper and brings his hand up to rest on Dean’s shoulder. Dean feels a tingle run through his very core. “And you won’t be alone. We still have a bond, Dean. If you start to feel lost, like you can’t fight it anymore, you reach for me and I will be there. Anytime.”

Dean looks away, unable to stare directly at the depth of feeling he can see inside of his eyes when a part of him knows he’ll never get to act on that now. “I’m not wavin’ the little white flag, okay? But you gotta promise me -”

“I will see the end of the earth before I cause you harm, Dean, and I won’t apologize for it.”

“Dammit, Cas,” he curses.

Castiel grips his shoulder so tight he has to fight back a wince, and before he even says the words Dean can see them coming. His eyes are blazing with the same truth he saw that day Ramiel’s poison was eating him alive.

Castiel’s voice comes out in a harsh whisper, “I love you, Dean.”

There’s no I love all of you to follow this one up, and in a stunning moment of clarity prompted by knowing that he’s probably going to be worn by an angel for the rest of eternity, he pulls Castiel into a bone crunching hug and buries his face in the crook of his neck. He breathes in that fresh, airy angel smell for what he’s sure is gonna be the last time, and just like that, every wall he had up comes crumbling down in an instant.

“Thought we’d have more time, Cas,” he whispers. “I’m - I’m sorry I fucked this up. It’s been you, man. It’s been you for me for a long time.”

“Dean - don’t,” Castiel rasps, his voice lower than he’s ever heard it. Cas holds him at arms length to look into his eyes again. Dean can see his sky blue eyes still swimming with tears.“Please don’t do this. Not now. There’s another way - we always find another way -”

“I’m sorry, Cas. Take care of Sam, okay?”

He gives him one final slap on the back to push down all the tears that’re about to slip out of him, as unbidden as the way his hand slides down Castiel’s back in the only intimate caress they’ll ever have, and he turns back to Michael.

“Yes.”

“No!” Castiel shouts behind him, breaking his heart into a million pieces with one syllable, but it’s already too late.

He has to close his eyes as light spills into the room, then pours into him like an empty cup.

He shakes his head to clear it of the memory.

Again.

He’d been thinking about it a lot. How his hand felt running down Cas's back. How Cas told him he loved him. It’s not like he didn’t already know - he’s pretty sure everybody knows - but for the first time, he’d told him in his own shitty way that he felt the same way. And then he’d literally turned his back on him to save Sam and Jack.

Not that he regrets that. Sam’ll always come first, no matter how fucked up that might be. But he knows he hurt Cas, maybe more than he’s ever hurt him before, just by saying yes. 

And now that he knows Sam and Jack are safe after he killed Lucifer (or as safe as they’ll ever be living the life they live) all he can think about is how much it fucking hurt to hurt Cas.

And what Cas said.

We still have a bond. Reach for me and I will be there. Anytime.

So he’d been praying. He’d been longing. He’d been doing everything he could think of doing, but still nothing. When he said anytime, did he mean anytime? Because he can’t feel Cas at all, and he has no freakin’ clue if Cas can feel him, but for whatever reason, he doesn’t think he can.

And he doesn’t get why. He closes his eyes, focusing entirely on what Cas had said at the time. He can still see it so clearly. Cas had been whispering, like he didn’t want Michael to know what he was saying. His eyes had been boring into his, begging him to hear the unspoken meaning in his words. And his hand - his hand had been on his shoulder. He was so hopelessly in love with the stupid angel that just feeling his hand on his shoulder had sent a tingle rolling through him. Not even a tingle on his skin, but inside of him. If he was more poetic, he’d even say his touch had resonated with his soul.

And that’s how he’d figured it out.

Reach for me, Castiel said. Not pray for me. Reach for me.

All he had to do was place his hand on top of where the handprint Castiel had left behind so many years ago used to be, and think of Cas, and it was like he was torn from his own mind and placed somewhere else. The first time it had been that valley. He was all alone, but he was keeping an eye out for Cas. He’d been walking in circles for what felt like ages, but he knew he’d come. But almost as soon as he saw him - badass angel flying down to him like his very own Superman with wings - he lost it. He couldn’t hold the connection anymore, and he was back in Michael’s head.

That had been three weeks ago, and he’d managed to connect with him only one other time so far where the same thing happened again. He doesn’t know why he only gets to see Cas some of the times. A lot of the time he’s off in his head doing weird shit - floating in the clouds, rolling down grass hills, shooting between the stars - but Cas is hardly ever there. And the two times he was there, he could barely get a look at him before he was dragged back to reality.

Having him there but just beyond his reach is almost worse than not seeing him at all.

But that doesn’t mean he’s gonna stop trying. He’s lost count of how many times he’s done this now, but still, he does it again. He places his hand on his shoulder and closes his eyes, thinking about blue eyes as deep as the ocean...

“Cas?” Sam asks quietly.

Castiel comes back to himself with a start.

“My apologies, Sam. I was lost in thought.”

“Yeah,” Sam says sadly. “Listen Cas, I’m worried about you, man.”

“I’m fine, Sam.”

“I know it’s hard not to know where he is and what he’s doing, but I don’t know if you should keep trying when it’s clearly taking a toll on you, you know? It’s not healthy, Cas.”

Castiel finally turns in his chair enough to look up at him. “Would you turn away from the chance to see that he’s okay?”

Sam’s eyes dart away as a lock of dark hair falls into his face. “Dean said yes to Michael knowing this could happen. We're doing everything we can to get him back, but we can't do it without you. You know he'd be pissed if he knew you were doing something stupid," he says with a quirk of his lips, reminding Castiel of Dean saying those exact words to him. "And he'd want me to make sure you're okay, too. We have to take care of each other, man."

“I appreciate your concern Sam, but I’m not giving up on this,” Castiel replies, turning away again. He feels what remains of his grace begin to stir inside of him. “In fact, I’m going to go try again.”

“Cas -”

“Goodnight, Sam.”

Back in Dean’s room, in his bed, surrounded by the comforting scent of the man he loves, he closes his eyes and lets his grace reach out for Dean.

Dean dreamt he was a diver with a life supply of air. He didn’t have a tank; he didn’t need one in his dream. He was still in his flannel, which was fanned out behind him in the water as he swam towards the bright colors shining at him from below. He could somehow register the waves crashing above him, but it didn’t bother him. He felt like he could happily log a hundred hours in this reef.

He was happy, and he felt free as the water cascaded along his body. He found himself surrounded by things he’d only ever seen on television or books. Curious, he reached out to touch it, and he cut his hand on coral with a deep breath and a prayer.

“Goddammit,” he cursed, sucking his bleeding finger into his mouth.

Hurting himself somehow reminds him he’s not free, and almost as soon as he has the thought, his gaze is drawn above him towards his escape.

And that’s when he sees him.

“Cas,” he sighs happily, and for once, he doesn’t disappear.

But he saw Cas, and he knew he couldn’t breathe.

He’s under water. Of course he can’t breathe under water! He holds his breath and starts kicking towards the surface as fast as he can. His finger is still streaming blood behind him - it’s flowing so much faster than it should for a small cut - but he ignores it because he needs to get to Cas; get to air.

This mortality, it seethes. Reminds him he’s not free.

“Dean!” Castiel calls desperately. Dean’s heart clenches painfully at the sound; he always manages to channel so much feeling into just his name.

He knows he shouldn’t be able to hear him under the water, hell, he shouldn’t be able to see him at all with so much water between them, but Cas is as clear as anything. Those gorgeous black wings are fanned out behind his back and his hand is now reaching for him under water since he’s fallen to his knees.

“Dean, stay with me. I can help you.”

When you said anytime did you mean anytime? Dean thinks hysterically as black begins to flood his vision. If I bleed, will you carry me? Will you ferry me? He’d laugh at his own joke if he could breathe.

“I did. I will. I will carry you back in my wings, Dean,” Castiel promises him. “Don’t give up.”

He’s almost there. He can almost reach him. He can see hope light up Castiel’s already bright blue eyes, and his own lips curve into a smile -

Then he falls like a shell to the bottom of the sea.

“No! DEAN!”

You set me right, Cas, is the last thing he says in his head.

Then he wakes up from his dream where salty water is still fresh on his face.

No - tears.

Shame on him.

He can’t keep doing this.

He doesn’t want to.

Castiel turns over and buries his face in Dean’s pillow.

He failed. Again.

He was so close. Close enough to see the panic in Dean’s eyes as his lungs were getting ready to burst, and then he sank like a stone. Castiel had flung himself into the water, but as soon as he broke the surface, he was back on Dean’s bed.

When you said anytime did you mean anytime?

Castiel squeezes his eyes closed tighter, Dean’s thoughts circling in his head.

You set me right.

Is that Dean asking him to kill him again, or telling him he feels better when he sees him? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything but pain. How could anything hurt so badly?

Then he gasps aloud as he’s pulled towards Dean once more.

They’re in the bunker.

It’s full of people.

Dead people who are now alive and well.

There’s Bobby, talking to Jack with Jo and Ellen. Jo’s head is thrown back with laughter over something Jack said without meaning to be funny, based on the confused tilt of his head. Sam’s in the corner, leaning against the wall next to Eileen who’s looking down at the ground and smiling shyly. John and Mary Winchester are here. Mary’s leaning back against John’s chest while John’s arms encircle her waist. Crowley and Mick Davies are talking animatedly in front of the telescope.

With a start, he sees himself - wings and all - leaning against the map table beside Dean. He has one wing curled protectively around Dean’s shoulder, and Dean’s fingers brush the tips lovingly where his hand rests at his hip.

Dean looks over at him with the biggest smile he’s ever seen on his face, and he sees the other him smile back just as big. Has he ever smiled like that before? He looks so pure, so happy, with his nose crinkled up and his gums showing above his teeth.

Then Dean lifts his glass half filled with amber liquid, and Castiel watches while the other Castiel clinks their glasses together.

“We did it, Cas,” Dean smiles.

“You did it, Dean. You defeated Michael, and you found your way back to us.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you and Sammy, man. You set me right. We did it together.”

They both take a drink from their glasses before Dean looks at the other Castiel in a suggestive way that he’s seen plenty of times, just never aimed in his direction before now. Then Castiel’s jaw drops as he sees Dean lean over and press his lips against the other Castiel’s in a chaste kiss that drips with familiarity and intimacy. As if they’ve done that a million times already.

“Love you, angel,” Dean says.

“I love you too, Dean. I will always love you,” the other Castiel answers.

And as Castiel’s heart fills faster than he knew was possible, everything around him begins to slip away, eclipsed by a bright light that he’s all too familiar with…

“No,” Castiel gasps. “No! DEAN, NO!” he shouts, louder than he’s ever shouted before.

Then he’s back, his throat hoarse from his shouting. Before he can jump out of the bed and run to Sam’s room, Sam barges through the closed door with panic all over his face.

“We have to do something now,” Castiel says through clenched teeth. “Dean’s almost gone. He’s - he’s creating his Heaven.”

He dreamt he was a hero and all his parts were sound.

Dean was happy. He was so unbelievably happy. Michael was dead. Lucifer was dead. Sam was happy, Jack was happy, everybody he loved was alive and well. He was with Cas, and Cas loved him back. He’d never felt so whole, so invincible.

No one’s gonna bother him deep inside this cloud.

But then another Cas - the real Cas - he set him right.

He heard him yell, “DEAN, NO!” and he was pulled back to himself.

Then he woke up from this dream, and he realized he was about to go into the light where everything was easy and good.

He almost gave up.

Shame on me.

Time to fight.

For Sam, for Jack, for Cas, and for himself. (art by https://beesandbroomsticks.tumblr.com/)

[writingfromkitchenator]

Past Perfect

This was written for the 2018 Louden Swain FanFic/FanArt Project!  Thank you to @mrswhozeewhatsis for running this again, it’s a great experience and I’m glad that we can all share a bit of our love with these guys!

Song: Past Perfect

Pairing: Crowley X OC (but it’s not a huge part of the fic)

Words: 1923

Not going to lie, it’s angst, I seem to be in that mood lately, but it is a slightly happy ending depending on how you read it.  Hopefully it makes sense because I did try and make it a little different to how I normally write.

Enjoy!  As always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

There was a click from the front door of the cabin and Jamie pushed the door in silently, her expression tired, worn and defeated, ignoring the outlook of the cabin as she turns, shutting the door behind her and resting her head against the wooden door with a heavy sigh.

She didn’t want to be here, but she had nowhere else to go.

Turning, she stares at the floor as she walks, dropping her backpack, the dust stirring.  She heads to the fireplace and busies herself with getting it going, a small of wood still siting to the side.

As she reaches for some of the wood, her eyes catch sight of a picture on the mantel piece, a picture and Sam, Dean and her, all smiling, arms around each other.

God we look so

So in the know

So in the moment, it's there

And that's all we care

Jamie tears her eyes away, blinking back tears as she takes several deep breathes, keeping herself in control.  The fire going, she stands, placing the picture face down as she walks past, heading for the kitchen.

She walks past another picture, this one of her and Castiel, who looks a little confused by what she was doing, but it was just making her laugh.  Violently, she shakes her head and tests the tap at the sink, the water taking a moment to start running.

But now

It's takin' all I can muster

Just to wake up all pale and flustered

There is a shake in her hand as she fills a glass with water, one she chooses to ignore, taking a long drink, staring out the window, a lake and forest beyond, starting to grow dark as the sun began to set.

There is a crack and she jumps, looking at her hand, the glass having shattered, cutting her, blood now dripping into the sink.

She leans down, her breathing getting harder, her hand shaking more and finally, the tears come, flowing freely as she sobs, broken and alone, slowly sinking down to the floor and pushing herself into the corner.

The cards been folded, I busted

The plates are stacked and the shelves not dusted

 “Jamie!”  Sam’s voice made her look up and she caught the gun her tossed her, instantly turning and firing into the ghost that was charging at her, both of them moving until they were back to back, Sam holding an iron bar.

“You alright?”  He asked quickly.

“Yeah, good timing.” She said with a grin.  “Didn’t really feel like being taken out by a ghost.

“Me either.”  He said.  “Hopefully Dean can burn the bones quickly.”

“If we’re right.”

“I know we are.”

The two of them worked together easily, Jamie firing and Sam with the bar, keeping the ghost at bay until it burst into flames, both of them shielding their eyes until it was gone.

“See, piece of cake.” She said with a wide smile and the two of them high five as Sam laughs.

“One day we won’t be so lucky.”

 Takin' me back

Jamie tried to ignore the picture on the walls as she walked through the cabin, her hand bound tightly, a bottle of beer in the other.  Her eyes are red from crying as she sinks into a lounge, almost instantly flinching as she does, another picture next to her.

This picture on my lap

This one was of her and Crowley, a disgruntled Sam and Dean in the background, which just seems to please Crowley more, sharing your smile.

A dedicated slap on the back

It sits in the corner of her eye for a long moment, her grip tight on the beer bottle and she takes a long drink before turning sharply and slamming it down, hearing the glass crack.

Congratulations

She knew that there was another picture upstairs, a more private one, one of her and Crowley sharing a kiss, but she could worry about that one later, if she could even summon the strength to go to bed.

Taking another drink, she finishes the bottle, tossing it into the fireplace for no other reason than to hear the bottle smash, something about it satisfying.

And now

It's takin' all I can muster

A small laugh bubbles from her lips and before she can stop it, she’s laughing loudly, more tears coming as she does.

Just to wake up all pale and flustered

The cards been folded, I busted

The plates are stacked and the shelves not dusted

She curls up on the lounge, the laughter slowly dying back down into sobs, her arms wrapping around herself.  The final bit of light disappears outside and she’s only left with the light of the fire.

 “Jamie.”  Dean’s voice was low and threatening as he stalked through the bunker, eyes flashing black for a moment.

Jamie was pressed flat back against a wall, a demon knife in hand, her knuckles white on the handle.

“Come on Jamie,” Dean purred.  “You played with Crowley, am I really that different?”

He rounds the corner, but she’s gone, making him smirk.

“Cat and mouse huh?” He asked.  “Sure, I’ll play.”

She slips as she gets into a room, just muffling a yelp before she turns and closes the door as quietly as she can, frantically looking around for something to block it with.

A heavy shelf does the trick but it’s loud as she pushes it, but she knows that she doesn’t have a choice.

Jamie yelps loudly as two hands grab her from behind and she turns, knife at the ready, but one of the hand catches hers, Dean swimming before her, his eyes black for a moment before he blinks it away, his features concerned as she struggles.

“Jamie.  Jamie!  Hey! It’s me.”  He said, keeping a grip on her as she struggles.  “Stop!  I’m not going to hurt you.”

She freezes and looks at him, really looks at him, the tears starting and Dean pulls her into his arms.

“It’s okay, you were dreaming.”  He said, holding her tightly.  “I’m not going to hurt you.  I’ve got you. Sam and I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.”

 And every little picture shows a place

Jamie stares at the pictures on the wall, each showing something different of her times with the four of them, the only real friends that she’d even had.

Better than the last one

There were a few extra’s here and there, including Charlie, Bobby, Ellen and Jo, but they all made her feel worse, her arms folded protectively in front of her chest.

Every smile, it hurts me just the same

It had been a habit of hers, taking pictures in those happy moments, keeping it for memories sake, all her favourites scattered around, speaking more than what she had ever said.

'Cause I'm sad for all the lost songs

Stepping forward, she starts to take them down, one by one, trying hard not to remember each moment, an ache in her chest starting the more she took down, turning them to face the wall stacked together.

Frame it 'cause it hides the jagged edge

No more tears would come, but it didn’t stop dry sobs leaving her as she kept going, her hands shaking, dropping more than a few, glass scattering across the floor as she took them all down.

Better than the last one

The empty wall glared before her and she finds herself on her knees, staring at it almost blankly.

Put it in the front to block the ledge

Exhausted and drained, she collapses, slipping into darkness.

The ledge

 “Jamie…”  Castiel’s voice was cautious, hesitantly stepping towards her.

She shakes her head. “I’m fine Cas.”

“You’re not.”  He said, his voice quiet.  “You’re upset.”

Jamie is silent for a moment before she nods slowly.  “Yeah, I suppose I am, but do you know why, Castiel?”

Castiel flinches, but waits for her to answer.

She turns to face him, eyes burning.  “Because I’m sick of you lot protecting me all the time.  I don’t need it.  I don’t want it.  It’s not necessary.”

He swallows and thinks carefully.  “I assure you that we do it with only your best interest in mind.”

“Do you?”  She asked.  “And what, protecting me from Crowley was in my best interest?”

“You know-”

“I know that he has done nothing to hurt or harm me.”  She said firmly.  “Unlike you three at some point.”  Then and there, she didn’t care about the hurt in Castiel’s eyes.  “And now he’s gone.  So yeah, I’m god damn hurting Cas.”

“We didn’t want him taking advantage of you, that’s all.”  Castiel said.  “We didn’t want him to use us against you or vice versa.”

“Never,” She said darkly. “Now leave me alone.”

“Where are you going to go?”

“Home.”

 Always just smiles

The pictures all now sat in a couple of boxes, Jamie, looking tired but clean, hair tied up in a loose pony tail, sweeps up the glass from the floor.  The fire still burns and there is a faint trail of snow outside.

Always for the lens

She’ll occasionally glance up at the pictures, some of which she could still see, smiles within, but she’s always quick to draw herself away, turning her back on them.

Always for your friends

Jamie throws the glass away and then pulls out a duster, starting to free up the dust that lies around, ignoring a buzz from her phone that sits next to the broken picture of her and Crowley, the only one to not be packed away yet.

Always for their sake

She sniffs from the dust, her expression still holding the sadness, her eyes a little empty.  Her gaze wonders to the window, to light bit of snow falling, starting to pepper to the ground with small piles of white as it got a little heavier.

And now

It's takin' all I can muster

She moves to the window, resting her forehead against the glass, which is cold, but it allowed her to feel something.

Just to wake up all pale and flustered

Jamie’s eyes close and she breathes deeply, listening to the crackling of the fire, to the slight groans of her home as it adjusts, a slight whistle of wind.

The cards been folded, I busted

There is a knock on the door, a little unsure.

The plates are stacked and the shelves aren't dusted

Blinking, she looks at the door, unsure for a moment until the knock comes again, firmer this time.

Take it back and adjust it

Jamie opens the door finding Crowley standing there brushing white flecks of snow from his suit as he smiles at her.

The faint nostalgia cannot be trusted

“Jamie.”

Take it back

“What are you doing here?” She asks before she can help herself, her voice broken and full of emotion.

Take it back

Crowley hides his reaction to her voice, stepping inside, even as she steps back and away from him. “Do you really think I’m not going to tell those idiots one thing and do the other?”

Jamie blinks, staring at him for a moment before she throws her arms around him, burying against his chest, more tears coming freely even as Crowley returns the hold.

Take it back

“Please Crowley,” She sobs.  “Make it stop.  Let it all just start again.”

Crowley sighs and kisses the top of her head.  “Hush love, we will work this out, I promise.”

Take it back, my past

Taglist

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[loudenswainfangirl]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Supernatural Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Gabriel & Sam Winchester Characters: Gabriel (Supernatural), Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester Additional Tags: 2018 Louden Swain FanFic/FanArt Challenge, song prompt, Nurse!Gabriel - Freeform, Patient!Sam, Teen rating for language, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, SPN Kink Bingo 2018, Cast Off song lyrics, Sabriel - Freeform Summary:

Inspired by the Louden Swain song Cast Off.

Sam wakes to find himself in a hospital bed being cared for by a nurse he's inexplicably drawn to.

[manawhaat]

 Homesick by Louden Swain 

Art and fic for @mrswhozeewhatsis Louden Swain Fanfic Fanart Project

[waywardnerd67]

Back Home

Summary: Nikki moves back to her hometown after a bad break-up. Finally, after a year she is back on her feet and has a chance run in with fate. Characters: Dean Winchester, Nikki (OFC) Pairing: Dean and Nikki (OFC) Warnings: Angst/Fluff Word Count: 2515 (With lyrics) Louden Swain Song: “St. Louis” – Able-Legged Heroes (Lyrics Bold) A/N: This is for @mrswhozeewhatsis 2018 Louden Swain FanFic/FanArt Project. This will be the only story I ever name a character after myself. I only did that because this is about my hometown and also why not. Flashbacks are italicize. As always this is unbeta so all mistakes are mine. Likes, comments and reblogs are splendid and I will love you doubly for them! Enjoy! **Special Note**: I chose this song specifically because when I read the lyrics and listened to it I immediately began writing a story in my head. There is also the fact that I was born, raised and still live in St. Louis. For a song to inspire me to write a story about my hometown is truly something special. 

So I'm back home But what remains I watch the snow Drift off my windowpane

I sat back in my seat resting my head against the cold window as the world zoomed past me. The steady rhythm of the train helped my body to relax for the first time in days. Glancing to the left I saw a couple snuggled together bringing up hard memories for me. I turned my music up letting the rock tunes flush out the unwanted thoughts. I closed my eyes for just a moment and there was his perfect face. Short, spiky dirty blond hair that was always soft to the touch. Strong, chiseled jaw that was covered by stubble. Full red lips that sent chills down my body whenever they were pressed against my skin. His nose and cheeks dusted with freckles that were more noticeable in the summer sun. Finally, his eyes. Eyes that pierced through every wall I had built around me. Eyes that were like looking into a heavy forest on a bright spring day. Eyes filled with constant worry, guilt, love and protectiveness. I opened my eyes blurring from tears. I closed them again so they could fall.

Opening them slowly again a slow smile spread across my lips. The train was pulling into the St. Louis Amtrak station. I looked fondly at the skyline I grew up taking for granted. The tall buildings filled with regular people working nine to five. Hotels buzzing with guests here to see everything St. Louis could offer. Most of all, the centerpiece of my hometown, the Gateway to the West. The Arch. Standing six hundred and thirty feet into the low hanging clouds. The Arch grounds were covered in snow making it a picture perfect sight except for the aching in my chest as the train came to a stop. I grabbed my bag slinging it across my body and pulled my stocking cap down on my head as my long, wavy chocolate brown hair covered my ears protecting them from the frozen tundra that is St. Louis in December.

The breeze makes me choke And all the time the answers were in front of my face I try to think about tomorrow but I can't forget today

Walking off the train, I look to see if my best friend, Megan, is there yet. Pulling out my phone I dial her number anxiously awaiting her answer. “Nikki? What’s up?” she said obviously forgetting she was supposed to pick me up. “Hi Megalynz, you were supposed to come get me from the train station downtown. Remember?” Her apologies started flying as I could hear her frantically getting her things. I looked around and decided I could probably walk to Union Station making it easier for her to get me. I told her to meet me there and to take her time. I pulled my heavy coat tighter around me and put my earbuds back in to block out the city chaos all around. As I walked, I marveled at how small I was compared to everything around me. The buildings, the parking garages and even the people hurrying along the streets to their jobs or event. The ache in my chest was growing painfully choking me. Shaking my head, I pushed forward concentrating on the lyrics flowing into my ears.

When I finally reached Union Station, Megan is waiting for me with hot chocolate and an ‘I’m sorry for forgetting you’ donut. As she drives back to her house where I will be living until I get on feet she talks about everything going on in her life. I smile and nod at all the appropriate moments and silently grateful she never asks why I shipped all my stuff to her. We pull into her driveway that is freshly shoved by her boyfriend and she gives me the five-cent tour. “The basement is your domain. There is a living area, a bedroom and a full bathroom. You can stay with us for as long as you need.” She said to me as we walk down into the basement seeing all my boxes from Kansas. “Thank you Megalynz. I think for the rest of the evening I just want to rest down here by myself and get through some of my boxes.” She nodded as she left me be.

I'm back home I feel depressed I found your clothes

Unpacking my boxes was more traumatic than I was expecting. I found a few of his flannels I had stolen to wear with his scent on them still. Whiskey, leather and car grease. I picked up my favorite red and black one holding it to my face as a wave of fresh tears came down my cheeks. My chest was burning from me trying to hold in my emotions and finally I let them out screaming into the shirt. Rage bubbling up inside me as I threw the shirts in a corner and laid down on the small couch sobbing. Memories of better times flooding my head and overwhelming my soul. Why did he have to consume me? Why could he not just leave me in peace?

“Dean Winchester put me down!” I giggled as he spun me around from behind in the Bunker library. “No more research, Nerdy. Time to spend some time with me.” He said as I glanced back at him seeing him wiggling his eyebrows. I started laughing as he led me to our bedroom, “Sorry pretty boy, Sam and I have to finish looking for a lead on the First Blade since Crowley obviously dropped the ball. Now, if you’re a good boy and help us then I will spend all the time in the world with you.” I started to drag him back to the library where Sam was chuckling to himself. “Nope!” Dean said grabbing me around the waist again carrying me down the hallway. “Sam! Sam, help me!” I called out as I heard him laughing. “You’re on your own with him, Nikki.” He yelled as I sighed loudly in frustration. “Dean, you’re being a very bad boy right now.” I said placing my hands on my hips as he closed the door nodding, “Yes, but that’s why you love me.” Rolling my eyes, I nodded slowly as he closed the distance between us.

Why leave a note? Why leave a note? Your words are a joke

The memory felt so real in my mind that I could feel his strong arms around me. Holding me tightly giving a false sense of safety and comfort. I sat back up looking through the one box I knew had exactly what I needed in this moment. Safely contained in a wooden box and wrapped in bubble wrap was the bottle of Jim Beam bourbon I packed away. I preferred Bulleit whiskey, but it made me think of him too much so I was making the move to bourbon to drown my sorrows. I opened the bottle and tip the spout to my lips. The burn down my throat was comforting and warmed my body. After a few more swigs from the bottle I placed it on the small coffee table and spotted something in the shirt pocket of one of his flannels. I crawled over sitting in the middle of the shirt pile and pulled out the piece paper opening it.

“Nikki, I know you’re mad at me. I know there is nothing I could ever do to get you to forgive me. Hell, I don’t forgive myself for what happened. I was trying to protect you and Sam from the Blade… from me. I hurt you both in ways I could never imagine but especially you. I wish you would just talk to me one last time. Let me try to make things right. Let me say I’m sorry in person. I love you, Nikki. I was never able to say that out loud to you and I don’t want to go through life without saying it at least once to you. All the women I have been with and none of them make me feel as you do. I’m the best version of me when you are around and I need you. I love you and I need you. Please come back to me. -Dean”

I ran my fingers over his handwriting that was distinctively beautiful in his own way just as he was. All this time waiting for him to man up and say those words. Three little words and it was in a damn letter. I fold it the letter up walked into my new bedroom placing it in the top drawer of my dresser. Standing there letting the anger from everything that had happened and reading his letter fueled me. There was no time for sulking, weeping or wallowing. No, it was time for me to get my life together and not think about the past. Look forward and move on.

I found my old records And all my books I found my old Bee-Gees But the turntable, you took I made a call into work I said I can't make it in today I'd sleep it off But I'm too awake And all the time the jokes that did not make any sense I finally figured out the punchline was at my expense, yeah My expense

Six months after leaving everything behind and moving back home I had found a job and was able to move out into my own apartment. Megan was on her way over for our weekly dinner and movie night. When I opened the door for her I was met with a large box being carried by her boyfriend. “Hi, you didn’t need to bring me a present.” She chuckled at me as she kissed her boyfriend goodbye. “It arrived for you this morning. It’s from Kansas so it must be from…” I held up my hand for her not to finish. “Well, it can wait until tomorrow after I’m off work. Right now, it is girls’ night and Captain Steve Rogers is waiting for us.” Megan laughed as we settled in with beer and pizza.

That night I tossed and turned thinking about the box. Not getting any sleep, I decided to call into work for the first time and tried to sleep off the funk that was stuck on me like a fungus. After lying in bed for what seemed forever I got up picking up the box and placing it on my bed. Cutting it open with the knife I kept at my bedside I looked inside to see a bunch of my things and another letter. I set the letter to the side and looked through my things. Quite a few of my books that Sam had borrowed throughout my time living in the Bunker. A few records I had bought to play on Dean’s turntable and now had no way of playing them for myself. Finally, my favorite band t-shirt of Dean’s It looked like it had been wadded up in the bottom of his closet which pissed me off.

“Nikki, is that my Led Zeppelin 1977 Tour shirt?” Dean asked as I nodded looking down at it. “You said I could grab any shirt from your bag to borrow since all my shirts are stained in Vamp gunk.” They had just finished a case in Nebraska taking out a nest of Vamps. Sam had been working a case in Sioux Falls with Jody and Claire. “You so know that is my favorite shirt, right?” I looked up nodding as if I did not know everything about him already. “If anyone were to mistreat that shirt in any way I would be heartbroken and upset.” When I focused on him I saw he was actually nervous about me wearing the shirt. “Do you want me to take it off?” There it was, his tell. The corner of his lip slowly rising into a smirk as he nodded. “You’re a jerk. You were just trying to Vulcan Mind Meld me into taking off my shirt!” I shouted as I threw a pillow at him. He caught laughing, “It almost worked too.” I huffed sitting on the bed brushing my long hair. “Awe, don’t be mad plus it looks better on you than it does on me. You should keep it.” I kept my shoulders straight and huffed. “You know I will keep because you were being a jerk.” I glanced over my shoulder to see him pouting as I looked back I smiled as I did a victory dance in my head.

I picked up the letter surprised to see Sam’s handwriting. “Hey Nikki, I hope you are well. I miss you a lot and have been tempted to find your new number to call you. I was cleaning Dean’s room out and found a few of your things in there. I also wanted you to have your books back. Things are… complicated here since you left, but I understand why you did. Sorry, the shirt looks like a giant ball of winkles. Dean has been sleeping with it every night since you left and now that he has left the Bunker I figured I would send it to you. He’s hunting hardcore now across the country by himself. I mainly stay in the Bunker to do research for him and take on local cases or work with Jody and the girls. He says he wants to be alone and it worries me but you know how stubborn he is. Anyway, I’ll stop blubbering. I hope to hear from you when you’re ready of course. Miss you. -Sam” I folded the letter putting it with the other one in my top dresser drawer. I missed Sam and Castiel a lot, but it was for the better to have a clean break.

I looked out my office window admiring the snow falling on the streets of downtown as my manager walked in. “Happy one year of putting up with me.” She said as I laughed. She sat down the small cupcake on my desk sitting in one of the chairs. “Thank you, Suzy. It’s hard to believe it’s been a year already.” She nodded as we chatted about upcoming events and meetings for the next hour. She got up to leave, “Why don’t you get out of here early. There is nothing that can’t wait until Monday. Have a great weekend.” I smiled thanking her and started packing up my laptop. As I walked out on to the busy sidewalk I had no idea I had a date with fate. Looking down as I grabbed my phone out of my pocket I ran into a sturdy body knocking me backwards. “I’m so sor…” I looked up into a familiar pair of forest green eyes, “Dean?” I whispered.

With nowhere to go And all the time the answers were in front of my face I try to think about tomorrow but I can't forget today I cannot forget today (Today) I'm back home

My Nerd Herd: @waywardbaby @waywardrose13 @carryonmywaywardcaptain @anotherwaywardsister @ladywinchester1967 @dwgrl1903 @akshi8278 @ericaprice2008 @mirandaaustin93 @spnbaby-67 @time-travel-bouqet @1967-essentialghoul @weirdoblogger69

[ellen-reincarnated1967]

When you've been working on an idea for a story for over a month and someone posts a similar storyline...

[brothersinsync]

Stacked Against

“It’s right around this corner, Dean.” Sam was reading the map in the passenger seat of the Impala as Dean ran a stop sign to round the bend.

Only to come upon five cop cars nearly blocking the street.

“Crap,” Dean said, slowing to a crawl. “You think someone tip the cops?”

“About what?” Sam peered out of the windshield as Dean pulled to the side of the road a good distance from the flashing lights. “The smell?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “So do we want to come back later?”

“No, they’re all at that house.” Sam pointed to the porch of a run-down, tan house with the front door open and a few officers on the porch. “Looking at the numbers, we need to be on that side.” He gestured to the opposite side. “That blue one, there.”

“Alright. Let’s go."

On foot, they circled around the back of a neighboring house and cut through the woods behind the next few yards to the blue house. Dean went to work on the door lock while Sam tried his knife in the window catch. Sam won, and so they crawled through the old, rickety opening into a well lit kitchen. A pot was on the stove smoking and boiling over. Sam rushed to turn off the heat but the smoke detector started going off.

“Fan it!” Sam called.

Dean grabbed a towel and waved it frantically at the smoke detector on the ceiling as it yelled at him, “Fire. Fire.”

“Yeah, I know,” Dean said.

Sam opened the back door to let some air in, but then hit Dean in the arm to get his attention and pointed at the metal pipe running from the fire alarm into the wall. “It’s hardwired. The fire department has already been notified.”

“Of course they have,” Dean said throwing the towel on the table. “Better hurry up then. It knows we’re here now anyway.”

Dean closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath as he reach for his gun tucked into the back of his pants and stalked out. Sam followed suit.

That was one way to get rid of the evidence, Dean figured, burn the house down after killing the inhabitant. Compared to the kitchen, the rest of the house was dark.  A long hallway leading towards the front of the house. Various doorways leading off of it. They checked each room, the sound of the smoke detector ringing in their ears.

With the bottom floor clear, they moved upstairs and started checking those rooms.

One door seemed promising in that it wouldn’t open. It wasn’t locked; the handle turned easily and the door even swung every so slightly. Together, Sam and Dean muscled the door open to find a large bookcase on its side holding the door shut.  The room was a study with a large wooden desk centered near a window in the far wall. A sleek, modern lamp was smashed on the ground and when Sam walked around the desk he found the owner of the house.

Ainsley Handler, a man they had saved from a werewolf the year before, had called earlier in the night to warn them.  Sam checked the pulse and shook his head for Dean’s benefit.

“He knew it was in here with him,” Sam said, standing and surveying the room.

“Yeah, but what was it?” Dean asked. He moved to the desk and picked up a framed photo. It showed Ainsley and another man proudly holding up keys in front of this very house. He turned it around to Sam. “You think friend?”

“Husband. Luckily away on business, but I doubt he’ll be staying in this house after he learned what happened.”

A few things happened at once.

There was a pounding at the door downstairs and Sam flew across the room when a powerful paw swatted at him from the shadows.

“Sam!”

Dean fired his gun into the shadow as the creature moved into the light. A large, brown and furry, puma-sized monster advanced on Sam, seemingly unaware of the bullets entering its body. Dean immediately placed himself between Sam and the creature, swapping his empty gun for a large knife from his belt.

“Sam?” Dean called not really looking behind him, “you ok?”

“Yeah.”

He heard Sam grunting and getting to his feet as the four legged creature moved towards him. The movement was slow and smooth. The eyes of the creature focused on Dean sizing him up.

Suddenly it lunged and even as Dean swung the knife at it, he knew that the thing was too fast. It had Dean in an awkward headlock and the knife clattered to the floor.  Tighter and tighter the grip got around Dean’s neck as the creature screamed a high-pitched wail. Dean refused to go out like this, not again.

Yet, there were stars here with them, Dean could see them floating before him. He tried to reach out and touch them. They were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen and he didn’t want this moment to end. He could vaguely hear someone calling his name, and a high whine and a pounding, but none of that mattered as he weakly reached for the stars.

The wailing stopped and the arm around his neck loosened, but Dean couldn’t immediately figure out what that meant. Then a new arm, picking him up and dragging him to the window.

“Come on, Dean. Come on,” a voice said. “The firefighters have broken the door down.”

Sammy, it was Sammy. He shook his head to clear it as the blood returned to his brain, and looked around. The furry monster was motionless on the floor, its blood forming a pool around it.

“What happened?” Dean asked, struggling to get his feet to cooperate.

“Silver knife to the heart,” Sam said pulling Dean towards a window. “The noise it was making reminded me of something I had read. Stricta Tenaci. Likes to choke its victims to death and vulnerable to silver. Can we talk about this later?”

Dean finally had his wits back about him and could hear footsteps on the stairs. Ushering Sam out first they both climbed out the window onto a lower roof and shimmied down the drain pipe into the back yard. They ran back into the treeline and stopped to watch the house from there for a moment. Dean could feel Sam looking at him.

“What?” Dean snapped in a whisper.

“Nothing,” Sam said defensively. “Just want to make sure you’re ok.”

“I’m fine, Sammy,” Dean said. “Don’t be so lame. It’s not like I haven’t been suffocated before.”

Sam just scoffed and went back to looking at the house.

Of course he was fine.  Just because being choked out like that reminded him of being buried alive didn’t mean he was going to follow that memory back to the reason he was in that coffin in the first place.

They circled back to the Impala.  As Sam worked in the trunk, dumping his weapons, Dean climbed into the driver’s seat, closed his eyes in the darkness, and took deep breaths.

Let it go, Dean thought, you made it out of another one.

By the time Sam got in the car, Dean was fine.

Believe me.

Created for the 2018 Louden Swain FanFic/FanArt Project (feat. The Station Breaks) on tumblr. @mrswhozeewhatsis

Song: Leg Up off of No Time Like The Present

Crossposted on AO3

[mrswhozeewhatsis]

Rock Song

Art by Catherine Curl of Geeky Key Art Studio for the story Rock Song by @smmywinchester45 based on the song by the same name for the 2018 Louden Swain Fanfic Fanart Project.

[winchestergirl-13]

Letter to Louden Swain

@mrswhozeewhatsis, here is my letter for Louden Swain.

Dear Louden Swain,

This is more so for all of you and not just one. I wanted to say that I love your music; it is just amazing. I’ve only been listening to you for maybe two years, maybe three, but it feels like I’ve been listening to your music for longer than that. All of you have such amazing skills and that goes for your friends that perform with you at times during the cons. I haven’t had the chance yet to see you guys perform live, but whether it’s live or off the internet, your music is amazing no matter how it is listened to.

I wanted to let you all know that your music has brought a new sense of what music is to me. You have a different style than most of what I listen to, but at the same time, your music fits right into what I like. This is probably sounding a little weird, but I really just wanted to let you know that I love listening to your music and that I hope you keep performing for years to come. I hope that one day I can tell you in person just how much I love your music and how much you all mean to us fans. We love you and your music. Keep rocking guys!

--Sincerely,

Corrine Butler

[toastiel]

Honey Bee

Author: Toastiel Rating: PG Characters: Chuck Shurley, Original Female Character (Meghan Shurley), Original Female Character (Avacyn Shurley) Pairings: Chuck/Meghan Word Count: 4387 Prompt: “Honey Bee” - Louden Swain - Sky Alive Summary: Kids grow up. Chuck knows this better than anyone. It doesn't stop him from wanting his little girl to stay little forever. Author’s Notes: This was originally written as a series of one-shot sequels to my fanfic ‘Ama Lurra.’ I’m posting it now in response to the 2018 Louden Swain FanFic/FanArt Project, run by the always lovely @mrswhozeewhatsis. I hope you all enjoy!

Nightmares

At first, Chuck wasn’t sure what had ripped him from an unusually deep sleep. It wasn’t that it had been peaceful, because it hadn’t. It was riddled with nightmares, his overwhelming fear of those he loved being taken from him, leaving him alone and stranded in the darkness. But at least it was sleep. He didn’t get a whole lot of that.

A scream pierced the silence of the night and he was out of bed and down the hall in a matter of seconds, his socked feet sliding over the hardwood floors in his haste and sending him to the floor. He landed on his back with a heavy ‘thud’ and a wheeze as the breath in his lungs was forced out. A door opened a few feet away and two tiny feet appeared beside his head. His gaze moved up, taking in the fluttery yellow nightgown with it’s bumblebee pattern, then the small teddy bear held in a death grip by tiny hands, long sandy curls, and chubby cheeks. Finally, concerned and worried azure eyes met terrified sapphires. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she looked down at him.

“D-daddy, are you okay?”

Her voice was small and shaky, but all too loud in the silence that filled the house.

“Daddy’s fine, baby.” Chuck said with a smile as he pushed himself up off of the cold floor. “See?”

He held his arms out and gave her a smile.

“You shouldn’t run in the house, Daddy. Mommy says it’s da-dan-”she paused, trying to form the word. It wasn’t easy for the four year old, so she settled on another. “Mommy says it’s not safe.”

“I know, but Mommy isn’t home, now is she?” Chuck gave her a pointed look. His wife was indeed out of town. Her brother, not that either he nor Meghan claimed him as such, had fallen ill and she had gone back to her hometown two states over to help care for him for a few weeks until his wife returned from a business trip to Hong Kong or Beijing, or one of those massive cities in Asia. He hadn’t wanted her to go, but Meghan had insisted, and he knew that once her mind was set on something, there was no changing it. It came with the territory of marrying Gaea incarnate, he supposed. Though, being God, he was hardly one to talk.

The little girl shook her head, curls flying about her head.

“Then it’ll be our little secret, yeah?”

This time she nodded.

“Why’d you scream, Ava? Did you have a nightmare?” Chuck knelt before her, leveling her with a serious look.

Again, she nodded. “I saw shadows. They were moving, and yelling, and I got scared. I’m sorry, Daddy.”

She hid her face behind the teddy bear, fresh tears tracking down her cheeks..

“Shh,” Chuck pulled her to him, wrapping her in a tight hug. He picked her up, setting her on his hip, and carried her back to the master bedroom. He slipped into the bathroom, grabbing the pink sippy cup they kept on the counter for these situations, and filled it with cool water. He’d become a quick master of doing things with only one hand after Avacyn was born, and now he had no trouble screwing on the cap and handing it to the toddler as he carried her back into the bedroom and sat her on the bed.

“You wanna sleep in the big bed with me? Will that make the shadows go away?”

“Yes, please.” She took small sips from her cup, her tears drying. When she’d calmed enough, he sat the cup on the nightstand. They both crawled beneath the covers, Ava curling up against his side, her head pillowed on his chest, and Chuck couldn’t help but smile. He’d done a lot of things in his long, long existence, some good, some bad. He’d made his share of mistakes, and some of them he couldn’t fix. Still, he was certain that the little angel tucked against him was one of his best works yet. Neither he nor Meghan had planned on her arrival, and both were terrified at what might happen afterwards, but none of that mattered now.

Chuck pressed a kiss to the top of her head and snuggled back against his pillow, falling into a peaceful sleep as faint hints of sunlight colored the morning sky beyond his windows.

Forever and Ever

At nine years old, Avacyn Lorrin Shurley was a force of nature unlike anything Chuck had ever witnessed. She could bring demons to their knees with a look and she had the entire Heavenly Host wrapped neatly around her little finger. She was smart, but more than that, she was intelligent. She knew things grown men didn’t know and she had no problem admitting as much.

It was hard for him to believe that nine years had already passed. He was sure that just last week, he was bringing her home from the hospital, and just yesterday, she’d come to him crying because she’d fallen trying to learn how to ride a bike. Now she was doing everything on her own. It pulled at his heart to see her fixing herself a sandwich for lunch, or doing her English homework without asking for his help.

It was a rare night when Meghan worked late nowadays, but Chuck was used to getting Ava ready for bed. He’d come upstairs to help her change and tuck her in, but she was already sound asleep, golden curls splayed over neon purple pillowcases, and a lime green blanket pulled up to her chin. He leaned against the doorway, not sure if he wanted to be proud and congratulate her, or sob silently in the corner.

He knew the day was coming when she wouldn’t need him anymore. He’d always know that day would come. Hell, he had enough children to know that much. It didn’t help to lessen the pain. She was growing up so fast. Too fast for his liking. By next month, she’d be in high school, and by the end of the year, she’d be off to college, starting a life without him in it.

“Hey,” soft lips brushed over the nape of his neck as a pair of arms wound around his waist. “What’s wrong, Chuck?”

He turned in her arms and pressed a kiss to his wife’s lips. When he pulled back, he couldn’t help but toss a somber glance over his shoulder at the sleeping child. He flipped off her light and pulled her door closed before letting Meghan lead him down the hall to their bedroom.

“She’s growing up.”

“They do that, sweetie.”

“I don’t like it.”

Meghan laughed at him. “Stop pouting, Chuck. Children grow up. That’s kind of how it works.”

“Still don’t like it. She doesn’t even need me anymore. She put herself to bed, Meg!” He gestured in the general direction of the child’s bedroom.

Meghan sighed and leveled him with a look that was half annoyed and half amused. She’d managed to change from her work clothes and into one of his tees without him even noticing, which only irritated him more. It just proved how distracted he was by the whole issue.

“Charles Shurley, you listen to me because I am only going to say this once. Take it from a girl that’s lost her father, Ava will always need you. I don’t care if she yells at you, if she screams and cries and says you’re ruining her life, I don’t care if she tells the whole world she hates you.” Meghan poked him hard in the chest with her finger, emerald eyes dancing with a fire he’d never seen before. He almost wanted to cower, but he stood tall instead.

“A daughter will always need her father, even if neither of them realize it. Just because she’s getting older and more independent doesn’t mean she isn’t going to need you around. It means she’s trying to show you that she can take care of herself so you don’t have to worry about her. She’s trying to show you how strong she is, because she wants to make you proud.”

Chuck swallowed, nodding slightly. He knew, deep down, that his wife was right. He just didn’t like the sudden transition from ‘daddy, can you read me a story,’ to ‘I got an A on the paper I wrote all by myself.’ It made him feel like he was missing out on something. The angels had always needed him, always looked to him for guidance and wisdom, even as they grew. Humans were different, not that Ava was entirely human. Still, the principle stood.

“Now, go kiss her goodnight, check on Karin, and let’s go to bed.” She shooed him out the door and down the hall.

Chuck opened her door, trying not to make a sound as he crept across the room to crouch beside her bed. He brushed her hair back from her face, and he swore he could see the halo resting atop her head. She shifted, blue eyes opening slightly before falling closed again. Ava rolled onto her side to face him and wrapped both arms sleepily around his neck. He hugged her tight for a moment before she pulled away and fell back onto her pillows.

“Night, daddy. I love you.” Her voice was thick with sleep and he could hardly make out what she’d said.  Chuck pulled the blanket back up beneath her chin and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I love you too, baby girl. I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

“Forever and ever?”

“Forever and ever.” He stood and left the room to check on the three year old sleeping next door, then he was crawling back into his own bed, wrapping himself around his already sleeping wife.

He had a hard time remembering what things had been like before Meghan and Ava and Karin. He knew he’d been lonely. He’d spent most of his time at the bottom of a bottle with no care to climb out. But for the life of him, Chuck couldn’t recall the events of a single day before them. Not a single one. If he was honest, he didn’t want to. Without his family, it hadn’t really been living anyways.

Heartbreak

Chuck had been prepared for a lot of things when Ava was born. He’d been ready to deal with nightmares and temper tantrums, first days of school and raucous slumber parties. He’d been okay with the princess themed birthday parties and fairy Halloween costumes. Really, he’d been ready to handle anything that came with having a little girl.

Until she wasn’t such a little girl anymore.

No, Chuck Shurley had not been prepared for high school. Or the drama that came with it.

He had gotten better about the whole “my daughter’s growing up and doesn’t need me anymore’ issue he’d had when she was younger, but this was different. This was a whole new level of worry that he had never been prepared to deal with. Chuck had never had to worry with the angels, though seeing how some things turned out, he probably should have been.

It wasn’t even the typical things that he worried about. Peer pressure, smoking, drinking, drugs, flunking classes, wearing inappropriate clothes, or hanging around with the wrong crowd were fears reserved for normal parents. Chuck wasn’t normal. He knew Ava well enough to know that she would weather all of those storms just fine.

His real worry, the one thing that had concerned him the most, was unfolding right in front of him. He’d seen it coming and still he hadn’t done anything to stop it. Part of him didn’t want to stop it, and that left the deity feeling somewhat guilty. He’d never cared for the boy, and not having him in his daughter’s life was a blessing, though not his handiwork. He’d have to thank whoever was responsible. ‘A fruit basket maybe? Or muffins. Everyone loves muffins.’

His heart clenched in his chest as he heard her scream, followed by the sound of something smashing against the living room wall. Probably a lamp. Hopefully the ugly one his wife so dearly loved. While he was happy to see the boy go, it was killing him to see what the arrogant young man’s actions were doing to his littlest angel. Another scream, muffled by the kitchen door and the hum of the air conditioning kicking on, and he heard the front door slam.

“Good riddance,” Chuck muttered into his cup of tea. He stood as the kettle clicked off, pouring the hot water into a large pink mug and following it with a tea ball full of Ava’s favorite tea. He didn’t say a word as he carried both his cup, already half gone and fairly cool, and her’s into the living room. He sat the fresh cup on the coffee table in front of the silently sobbing young woman and took a seat beside her, leaving enough space between them so as not to crowd her. He’d learned that when Meghan had been pregnant the first time around.

They sat there for some time, neither saying a word, but he smiled softly as she picked up her steaming mug and held it close to her face with both hands. She sipped it slowly, sniffling now and then, until the tea was gone and with it her tears. The sadness remained.

“Why?”

He’d almost missed the question, her voice was so quiet.

“I get that a lot, Ava. You’ll have to be more specific.” He gave her a smile, hoping the favor might be returned. It wasn’t.

“Why does it have to hurt so much? Why-” she sniffled again, “ Why do people have to lie and hurt and break things?”

It wasn’t often that Ava didn’t count herself as a person. Most days she was happy to blend into the masses and play the part of the unwitting human. Now clearly wasn’t one of those times. He could see the celestial glow of her eyes without even looking at her. He took a deep breath, trying to figure out the best answer he could give her, only to find that he didn’t really have any good ones.

“Humans...they mess up. They make bad decisions, they don’t think things through. It comes with free will. Every person gets to decide their course, good or bad, and a lot of them don’t know the difference until it's too late. Especially at your age. Teenagers are impulsive, reckless, careless. They never see themselves as being wrong until something comes back to bite them.” Despite his words, Chuck’s tone was endearing.

“It’s not just a human condition, though.” He amended, turning to look at her. “Your brothers and sisters have been guilty of much the same. They’ve done their share of harm.”

“I know. I just...why does it have to hurt? I guess, deep down I kind of expected him to do something, but not this.” Ava bit at her lip as she gazed into her tea, looking for all the world like it held the answers she was seeking.

“He broke your trust. Speaking from experience, betrayal is one of the worst pains there is. It cuts down to the core of who you are and it makes you question everything you’ve ever believed.”

“Will it always be like this? Is this what love is supposed to feel like?”

“This?” He couldn’t help but laugh. “Nah. This...this was a different kind of love. Puppy love. Soon, you’ll forget the pain, and the one that gave it to you. You’ll find others, fall in love, fall out of love. One day, you’ll find that one person that you’ll love forever, and all the heartache and sadness and salty tea will be worth it.”

Chuck watched as Ava wiped her face with the back of her sleeve. She must not have realized she'd been crying, he thought. When she did glance back at him, a small, sad smile danced on her lips.

“Yeah?”

“Yep.”

He hadn’t been ready for it when she wrapped herself around him, and he’d almost dropped his mug, but Chuck didn’t mind. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders, hugging her close to his side, and pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Daddy,” her voice was muffled by his shirt and his shoulder. She never called him that anymore, not unless she was sick or sad.

“Yeah, angel?”

“Could you...would you sing? Please?”

Chuck’s heart warmed at the request. It had been nearly a decade since he’d heard those words from her.

“Of course I will.” He smiled warmly, glancing down into her sapphire eyes. “Any special requests?”

“That one you used to sing when I was little.” She batted her lashes.

“Yeah, okay.” He leaned forward, placing his mug on the coffee table. He snuggled back against the cushions and Ava’s head fell to rest against his chest. He pulled in a breath and began to sing, his voice low and calm.

“If I had wings like Noah’s dove,

I’d fly up the river to the one I love.

Fare thee well, oh honey, fare thee well.

“I knew a man, who was long and tall,

He moved his body like a cannon ball.

Fare thee well, oh honey, fare thee well.

“I remember one night, a drizzlin’ rain,

And ‘round my heart I felt an aching pain.

Fare thee well, oh honey, fare thee well.

“One of these days, it won’t be long

You’ll call my name and I’ll be gone.

Fare thee well, oh honey, fare thee well....”

By the time his voice faded away, Ava was asleep against his shoulder, a small smile on her lips. He brushed her curls away from her face and kissed her forehead softly. With a snap of his fingers, their tea mugs were gone, and with another snap, he was standing over her in her bed. He pulled the blankets up around her, tucking her in as he had all those nights ago when he doubted his relevance in her life. Needless doubting, it would seem. Even at sixteen, almost a woman, she was still his little angel, and she did still need him.

Chuck flipped off her light and stepped out into the hall, pulling the door closed behind him.

Never Let Go

Chuck always knew this day would come. He’d been terrified of it for nearly twenty-five years, and now he was staring it in the face. He wasn’t ready for this, and he had no trouble admitting as much to himself. He was nothing if not honest.

Still, he couldn’t deny that Avacyn was the most beautiful angel in existence. He was leaned against a wall, watching from afar as Meghan helped to finish up her hair and her makeup. His little girl was all grown up and he had to push back the tears that threatened to fall. He couldn’t cry. He was God, for...for his sake. Last time he cried, it rained for months.

Ava had graduated near the top of her class, and at eighteen, she’d left home for the first time for college. Chuck had been extremely proud and extremely distraught. Yes he had a lot of children, but Ava was special. He’d been there for all of her ups and downs, watched her laugh and cry. He’d seen her love with her whole heart, and he’d witnessed that heart being broken more than once. They had a bond that was different, unique; it was unlike anything he had with the rest of his children.

Chuck wasn’t supposed to have favorites. He was supposed to love all of his children equally. Even so, every angel in all of creation knew that those two, Lucifer and Ava, they were his favorites. The two had even butted heads over it, trying to prove that one was more worthy of his attention than the other. Sibling rivalry pertained to all siblings, he supposed. At the end of the day, though, they loved each other just as much.

When she was younger, Ava had grown close to Gabriel and Balthazar. They treated her like a princess, sneaking her gifts and treats with each visit. The older she got, though, the closer she’d become to the two eldest angels. He was convinced that had something to do with Karin’s birth. She’d taken the responsibility as big sister very seriously from day one, and she’d looked up to Lucifer and Michael because they were the biggest brothers she had. While it pleased Chuck to know that she was getting along with all of her siblings, he often found himself thinking that maybe she should have chosen better role models.

Not having Ava at home had been tough on him, but he managed. He spent most of his time caring for Karin. The twelve year-old was thrilled to finally have all of his father’s attention, and Chuck felt guilty then for not dividing his time as evenly between the two as he should have. Karin just always seemed to be alright. He never got upset, or bothered by much, and he had an easy-going attitude about things that his sister didn’t possess. Where Ava stressed and fretted, Karin just let things happen. Chuck was keenly aware that that didn’t mean the boy hadn’t needed his father. He’d seen what happened to his children when he’d run off, and he’d be damned if he ever let that happen again.

When Ava came home on break for the holidays during her senior year, the last thing Chuck expected to see was a boy on her arm. Meghan had ushered them both in from the snow and put them to work on helping her with the decorations. Chuck didn’t have time to even catch the kid’s name until dinner that night when they’d all decided it was time to stop. He’d spent most of the afternoon hanging lights outside. An easy task until Gabriel showed up and decided he needed to ‘help.’

His name, it turned out, was Theodore Dawson, and he was from Atlanta, Georgia. He was a nice kid, Chuck supposed as they passed around bowls of mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, and brussel sprouts. He was polite, well dressed, and clean-cut. His hair was a bit on the shaggy side, but next to Sam Winchester, it looked like a buzz cut. He was two years older than Ava and was working on his masters in Anthropology at TSU.They’d met through a mutual friend and hit it off. Chuck could tell by the way they looked at each other that this what the one he’d told his little angel about all those years ago as they nursed hot tea on the sofa.

The couple had been dating for two years when Theo had shown up on his doorstep, completely unannounced and looking like he might faint. They’d talked at length that afternoon, and by the time Theo had left, Chuck had gladly given his blessing. A month later, Ava called to announce that Theo had proposed and she had said yes.

That had been almost a year ago.

The thundering toll of the bell several stories above them shook Chuck from his musings. It was time. He could hear the music playing, the bellowing of the organ echoing throughout the old cathedral. That was one part Chuck still had a difficult time with. Theo, it turned out, was Catholic, and his parents had insisted on having a large Catholic wedding. Between Theo’s family and Ava’s family, a small wedding had never been an option, but Chuck had kept his mouth shut on that.

“Ready?” Ava asked him with a teasing smile as she stepped up to his side. In that instant, Chuck could see it all, from the frightened toddler, the independent child, the intelligent young woman. It was all there in that smile, in those eyes. She was a literal angel, dressed in the most beautiful white gown, with a train a mile long and a veil to rival it. He nodded with a smile and offered her his arm before leading her out into the hallway. The bridesmaids and groomsmen were all ready to go, some angels, some human, and with a kiss to her cheek, the procession began. By the time the bridal march was filling the air, Chuck was a nervous wreck. He wasn’t ready for this. He didn’t want to hand his little girl over to someone else, to watch her leave him behind.

“I’m scared, too.” She whispered, glancing up at him as they began the slow march towards the pulpit.

“You? Scared? Impossible.” He teased, his hold on her hand tightening a fraction.

“I’m terrified. I don’t know what’s going to happen.” He could sense the actual fear in her words. She wasn’t just trying to make him feel better.

“Isn’t that the point? This is the start of something new, Ava. After today nothing will be the same. Everything changes the moment you say ‘I do.’” He shook his head slightly, trying to will away the tightness in his voice. “It’s a new adventure.”

“But starting a new one means leaving the old one behind. What if-” She seemed to be having the same problem. “What if the old one isn’t finished yet?”

“You don’t always get to finish one adventure before the next one starts. Just ask a Winchester.”

She laughed and gave him a wary smile. “Fair enough.”

They were almost there now.

“Promise me something, daddy,” she let her head fall against his shoulder for a second.

“Anything, angel.”

“No matter what happens, no matter where I go, just promise me you’ll always be there, just like you always have been.” Her words were sad now, tinged with worry.

Chuck stopped, pulling her to a halt next to him. He turned, leveling her with a gaze he normally only reserved for those times when he actually had to be God. They stared at each other for a long moment before he spoke.

“I will always be here for you. I’m never going anywhere. Never again.”