#Dark Gadreel

[supernotnatural2005]

Lebanon

Paring: Dean x Reader

Summary: A wish gone wrong right brings back a familiar face. However, you all soon discover it's not as simple as it seems when what you’ve all accomplished, and your family, hangs in the balance.

Word Count: 7.4k (yikes 😬)

Warnings/tags: Major spoilers!! S14 Ep 13 especially, angst, fluff, canon (semi) divergence, episode rewrite (kinda).

AN: Okay so this was a lovely request from an anon which you can read here. The summary of it was John interacting with his grandson, fathered by either Sam or Dean. Ofc I went with Dean on this one. Personally I struggled finding a way to fit this in and be faithful to the boy's journey. The only thing that felt right to me was what I have written. I hope that is okay anon? ❤️

Main Masterlist

You sit at the library table with Bobby, your three-year-old son, surrounded by scattered crayons and sheets of paper filled with colourful scribbles. His tiny fingers clutch a crayon tightly as he drags it across the page, his little tongue peeking out in deep concentration. His brows furrow—just like Dean’s do when he’s focused—and the sight tugs at something deep inside you.

“Good job, baby,” you murmur, smoothing a hand over his soft, sandy hair.

Even now, three years later, you still found yourself in awe of him. Of the fact that he was yours. That despite everything—despite the life you’d lived, the battles you’d fought, the countless times you weren’t sure you’d even see another day—you had him.

You never thought you’d even be able to have a kid after all the knocks your body had taken over the years. But then Bobby happened—an accident, sure, but never a mistake. Not once. And Dean… Dean had loved him from the second he knew he existed. He loved him with everything in him.

A lot had happened since you first met Dean. You’d bumped into him and Sam on a case years ago, all of you unknowingly hunting the same thing. Sparks flew instantly—partly from attraction, but mostly from the sheer force of your clashing egos. Neither of you were the type to back down. He was cocky, you were stubborn, and together, you were like gasoline to his flame.

But somewhere between the banter and the bickering, a friendship formed. The three of you started meeting up more, sharing research, trading expertise. And then, one night, that tension between you and Dean finally broke.

After that… Well, life never stopped moving.

Losing Bobby Singer. Dean being dragged to Purgatory. Losing him for a year. Getting him back. Then the angels fell. Metatron. Almost losing Sam. Sam being possessed by Gadreel. Losing Kevin. Losing Charlie. The Mark of Cain. Losing Dean again—only to get him back as a demon. Getting rid of the Mark, but unleashing something worse—God’s sister, the Darkness. Oh and God was Chuck? Then Mary came back. Then Lucifer and he had a son, Jack—a Nephilim who, against all odds, had become family. And then there was the discovery of other earths, alternate realities bleeding into their own, which had led you here.

To Michael.

And somehow, in the middle of all of that, you’d fell pregnant and raised a, now, three-year-old.

Bobby had been the one good, untouchable thing in all of it.

But since Michael… Everything was different, because of your son.

Dean had been in turmoil. He hid it well most days, but you saw it—in the clench of his jaw, the way he rolled his shoulders like he was trying to shake off a weight he couldn’t see.

Michael was still there, buried deep, locked away—for now. And that terrified him. Not just for himself, but for you. For Bobby. Because no matter how strong his will was, no matter how hard he fought to keep control, there was always that lingering fear…

What if the lock didn’t hold?

So you did what you always did. You held everything together. For him. For Bobby. For all of you.

Because no matter how much the world took from you, you still had each other.

And maybe—just maybe—you were still holding out for another miracle.

The heavy bunker doors creaked open, and Bobby’s head snapped up. His green eyes went wide with excitement, his crayon slipping from his grasp.

“Daddy!” he shouted, his voice ringing through the library.

You barely manage to help him down from his chair before he bolts, little legs pumping as fast as they can across the cold bunker floor. His tousled hair bounces with each hurried step, arms swinging as he races toward the only person in the world who could make him forget everything else.

Dean barely has time to brace himself before Bobby collides with him, tiny hands grabbing at his flannel. A tired but genuine laugh escapes Dean as he scoops him up with ease, holding him close. The exhaustion lining his face softens, replaced by something warm and unshakable.

“Hey, buddy,” Dean murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of Bobby’s head. “You miss me?”

Bobby nods enthusiastically, burying his face into Dean’s shoulder. “Uh-huh.”

The sight pulls at something deep in your chest—Dean, looking worn from whatever they’d just faced, but still lighting up the second he has his son in his arms. His perfect little double. The same green eyes, the same cluster of freckles dusting his little nose.

Sam steps forward, offering you a tired smile before ruffling Bobby’s hair. “Hey, little man.”

Bobby grins, immediately stretching his arms toward his uncle. Sam chuckles, taking him with ease, and Bobby squeals as he’s lifted high, giggling when Sam playfully swings him in the air. Your son has them both wrapped around his tiny fingers, and they don’t even try to hide it.

But your gaze flickers back to Dean, and you immediately notice the weight in his stance. The way he rolls his shoulders, like he’s trying to shake something off but can’t. The way his smile, as bright as it is for Bobby, doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“What happened?” you ask softly, stepping closer.

Dean and Sam exchange a look—silent, heavy, something unspoken passing between them. And then, after a beat, Dean finally meets your gaze.

-

“A Baozhu?” you echo, brows knitting together as you absorb everything Dean and Sam just told you. The day they’d had sounded like something straight out of a horror novel.

It started with them tracking down an old friend—well, former hunter—who had been murdered. His death led them to an antique shop owner who had a whole damn room full of occult objects. Dean had rattled off some of the inventory like a bad joke—dragon’s breath in a perfume bottle, a skull supposedly belonging to Sarah Good from the Salem witch trials.

And then, just when things couldn’t get crazier, a couple of idiot teenagers stole Baby, along with all the cursed artefacts they had loaded into the trunk. Dean’s jaw still ticked when he mentioned it, and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing—because, yeah, it was serious, but the way he got so damn worked up about his car was just so him.

That would’ve been enough of a headache, but then came the kicker. One of the stolen objects contained a spirit. And not just any spirit—the ghost of John Wayne Gacy.

“Seriously?” you’d blurted when Sam told you. “Like, the John Wayne Gacy?”

“Yup,” Dean had muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Evil clown and all.”

Sam still looked a little queasy at the memory, and you knew why—his fear of clowns was legendary. But thankfully, the boys had handled it, no one got hurt, and the worst that came out of it was a couple of traumatised teenagers who now knew the truth about what lurked in the dark.

But out of everything, the most important discovery was the pearl.

Sam sits at the table now, flipping through an old lore book, his eyes scanning the pages. “It’s supposed to grant the user their heart’s greatest desire,” he explains. “Like a wish.”

You inhale sharply, the weight of those words pressing into your chest. “A wish? Like, an actual wish?”

Sam nods. “That’s what the lore says.”

Your mind starts racing. If it works… if Dean uses it…

You glance at him, and you can tell he’s already there, thinking the same thing. Michael. The archangel still locked inside his head, slowly eating away at him.

It hasn’t been easy. Not for him. Not for any of you. The sleepless nights, the migraines that leave him clutching his skull, the way his hands sometimes shake when he thinks no one’s looking. The moments where he just stares, zoning out, fighting a battle no one else can see. You’ve watched him struggle, pushing himself beyond his limits, trying to hold it together when you know he feels like he’s falling apart.

“Dean…” you murmur, reaching across the table, lacing your fingers through his. “You're sure?” You ask softly and his grip tightens, warm and solid. He exhales, steadying himself, his voice quiet but firm. 

“Yeah,” he says, giving your hand a squeeze. “If this thing works—Michael’s gone. For good.”

All Dean had to do was hold the pearl and concentrate—wish Michael away for good. Simple.

But the moment he did, the bunker’s lights flickered violently, plunging the room into an eerie, stuttering darkness. Then, without warning, a deep, unnatural red glow pulsed around you, filling the air with a static charge that made the hairs on your arms stand on end.

Your breath hitched as you clutched Bobby tighter against your chest. His little fingers fisted into your shirt, his small body trembling.

“Dean?” you called, alarmed, but his sharp, commanding voice cut through the chaos.

“Take Bobby to our room. Now.”

The authority in his tone left no room for argument. Your heart pounded, panic clawing at your ribs, but keeping Bobby safe was all that mattered.

You turned and bolted down the hall, his small arms locked around your neck as you ran. Behind you, the sounds of grunting and scuffling echoed—something was happening, something bad.

“Mommy?” Bobby’s voice was small, uncertain, his wide green eyes shimmering with unshed tears. His bottom lip trembled, and the sight of it nearly broke you.

You placed him gently into his cot, cupping his soft cheeks between your palms, forcing yourself to smile. “Mommy’s just gonna make sure Daddy and Uncle Sammy are okay, alright?” You kept your voice steady, though your pulse pounded erratically.

Then, just as suddenly as it started, the bunker fell silent. The flickering lights steadied. The air no longer buzzed with electricity.

You swallowed hard.

“You’ll be my brave boy and stay here, yeah?”

Bobby hesitated, then gave you a small nod despite his fear. You kissed his forehead firmly, lingering just a second longer than usual, then forced yourself to pull away. You slipped out of the room, shutting the door behind you, willing your hands to stop shaking.

As you rounded the corner, your steps slowed, your breath catching in your throat.

Dean and Sam stood frozen in place, their expressions a mix of shock and something almost… reverent. But it wasn’t fear in their eyes. It was disbelief.

A man stood before them, his stance rigid, a gun poised tight in his grasp, not aiming, but gripped tight. He wasn’t Michael— you’d met that bastard before he possessed your boyfriend. No, this was someone else entirely.

“You boys better tell me what the hell is going on.” The stranger demanded, his voice deep, weary.

Your grip on your gun tightened as you raised it, the chamber clicking into place, shattering the heavy silence.

“I could ask you the same thing.” You demanded, voice steady despite the storm raging inside you.

All six pairs of eyes flickered to you at the sound of your voice, and the moment the strangers gaze met yours, a chill ran down your spine. You knew that face.

It took another heartbeat before the realisation struck like a freight train.

You’d seen him before. In the small collection of worn photographs Dean kept tucked away—memories of a childhood long gone.

John Winchester.

After leaving Dean, Sam, and John to catch up, you had gone to check on Bobby. He was still curled up in his cot, clutching the stuffed moose Sam had gotten him for Christmas last year. You’d learned quickly that it was his comfort toy, and seeing him holding onto it so tightly made your heart clench.

His green eyes found you instantly, and he climbed to the edge, making grabby hands. His bottom lip jutted out, a clear sign of distress.

You scooped him into your arms without hesitation, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Hey, sweetheart.” Your voice was soft as you ran a soothing hand over his back. Truthfully, you needed the comfort just as much as he did. John was back. Just when you thought life couldn’t get any crazier…

“Where’s Daddy?” Bobby mumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“He’s with Uncle Sammy and—” You hesitated. How exactly do you explain to a three-year-old that his grandfather—who’d been dead for over a decade in your timeline—was alive and plucked from another?

Bobby frowned. “I wanna see Daddy.”

His voice wobbled, and that was all it took for your hesitation to crumble. You weren’t sure if barging in with a toddler was the best timing, but Bobby didn’t understand that. Right now, he just wanted his dad.

“Alright.” You kissed his forehead. “Let’s go see him.”

He clung to you as you carried him down the hall, his little fingers curling into your shirt. As you neared the kitchen, low murmurs drifted through the doorway—John’s voice, rough and gravelly, eerily similar to your boyfriends.

“So, you’ve, um… been busy,” John said, amusement laced with something softer.

Before Dean could respond, Bobby stirred in your arms. The second he spotted his father, his whole face lit up.

“Daddy?”

The room fell silent.

Dean turned at the sound of his son’s voice, surprise flickering across his face before his eyes found yours. You mouthed a quick I’m sorry before setting Bobby down.

John’s gaze never left the toddler as he toddled toward Dean, arms reaching up without hesitation. Dean scooped him up with practiced ease, a small, uncertain smile tugging at his lips as Bobby buried his face in his neck.

John let out a slow breath, eyes flicking between you, Dean, and the boy in his son’s arms. His voice was quiet as he added. 

“Really busy.”

There was no teasing in his tone. Just awe.

Dean swallowed, bracing himself. He wasn’t sure how John would take this—learning he was a grandfather, seeing a piece of Dean’s life he’d never expected to, but John’s eyes glistened with something unreadable, his throat working around words he couldn’t seem to find. Finally, his gaze softened. 

“What’s his name?”

Dean hesitated for just a second before answering, shifting Bobby slightly. “Robert John Winchester.”

John inhaled sharply. His lips parted, but no words came. His gaze flickered between Dean and Bobby, something glassy and overwhelmed in his expression. Then, after a beat, he cleared his throat and reached out, hesitating.

His voice was quieter than before, rough but vulnerable.

“Can I?”

Dean held his gaze for a moment, then nodded.

Carefully, he passed Bobby over. John took him like he was made of glass—almost reverently—his arms wrapping securely around his grandson. Bobby, unaware of the weight of the moment, gripped onto John’s shirt with tiny fingers, tilting his head curiously.

John let out a shaky breath, one hand settling on Bobby’s back, the other gently cupping the small boy’s head. A tearful huff escaped him as he whispered, “Hey, little man.”

Bobby blinked up at him, studying his face with quiet curiosity. Then, slowly, his tiny hand reached out, cupping John’s cheek. John froze for a moment, his breath hitching as Bobby assessed him with those big green eyes—the same shade Dean’s had been at that age.

Then, Bobby giggled at the prickle of John’s beard, the sound breaking the heavy air in the room. A small, watery smile pulled at John’s lips as he let out a quiet chuckle, his hold on Bobby tightening just slightly.

You, Dean, and Sam couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

But after a moment, Bobby shifted, his little arms reaching back toward you. Instinctively, you stepped forward, and John, though reluctant, carefully handed him over.

His eyes lingered on you, then flickered to Dean and Bobby—his grandson, his son, this family he had never gotten the chance to know.

His voice was rough with emotion as he admitted, “I just… I just wish I’d been here to see it all.”

Dean’s throat tightened. He knew John wasn’t just talking about Bobby—he was talking about everything. The years they’d spent fighting, losing, surviving. The pain, the victories, all the impossible things that had led them here.

Dean met his father’s eyes, his voice steady when he said, “Dad, none of this would have happened without you.”

John looked at him then, really looked at him, his eyes flicking to you, to the boy in your arms, before landing back on Dean with a soft, knowing smile.

Then, as if needing to ground himself in something familiar, John let out a breathy chuckle. “Well, I went out taking out Yellow Eyes. I mean, that was the point, right? Get the thing that killed Mom.”

The shift was instant. You felt it in the way Dean’s grip on your hand tightened, in the way Sam tensed across the table. The air in the room seemed to still.

He didn’t know.

Dean and Sam exchanged a glance, the same realisation hitting them both at once.

And then, before anyone could figure out how to tell him, the bunker door creaked open.

“Boys? Y/N?” Mary called out and John’s face twisted in recognition and something deeper. 

John turned as she approached, pausing in the doorway, eyes wide, breath catching the second she saw him.

For a moment, neither of them moved. They just stared. The kind of stare that cut through time, through decades, through life and death itself.

Then John stood and surged forward. 

She barely had time to whisper his name before he was there, pulling her into his arms, kissing her like he’d never let her go.

It was raw, desperate, a reunion, decades in the making.

You felt Dean exhale beside you, his grip on your hand loosening as he watched his parents cling to each other like the world had stopped moving.

You met Sam’s gaze, then tipped your head toward the hall. A silent suggestion. He gave a small nod.

You turned back to Dean, giving him the same look, and he sighed before nudging his head toward the hallway.

Giving them this moment was the least you could do.

You followed Sam and Dean out of the kitchen, Bobby tucked securely in your arms. Dean let out a breathless chuckle, running a hand through his hair, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and exhilaration.

“It’s Dad,” he murmured, like saying it out loud might make it feel real. His eyes flickered between you and Sam, wide with wonder. “This is amazing. I’m—I’m freaking out.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sam said, his own voice tinged with the same stunned disbelief. You met his gaze, both of you thinking the same thing.

Sam turned back to Dean, grounding him with a firm hand on his shoulder. “But Dean—Dean, listen.” His tone was steady, cautious. “How did this happen?”

Dean blinked, still reeling. “I—I don’t know,” he admitted, stumbling over the words. He was overwhelmed, barely holding onto the moment, and as much as you loved seeing him like this, you couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling in your gut. When did anything this good happen without consequences?

“You said the pearl gives you what your heart desires, right?” He continued, looking to Sam for confirmation, who nodded pensively, “so my heart desired—“ He shook his head, trying to articulate it clearly, “I’ve wanted this. Man, I've wanted this since I was four years old.”

Your hold on Bobby tightened, the weight of Dean’s words settling deep in your chest. His gaze lingered on you, desperate and vulnerable, like you were the only one who could truly grasp what this meant to him.

And you did.

Dean had carried this ache his whole life, a longing so deep it had shaped the man he became. How many nights had he wished for just one more moment? One more chance to have his dad back—to have his family whole again?

“Okay, I know,” Sam began, voice softer now, careful. “And I—I love this too, Dean, really I do…” He sighed, not in frustration but in that way that said he knew better. “But messing with time… You know how this ends. Things change—”

“Yeah, great—we got our family back together. I’ll take that change,” Dean interrupted, voice sharp with defensiveness. You could see the way his shoulders tensed, how his jaw clenched like he was bracing for a fight. And damn it, you wanted so badly to agree with him. To ignore the reality Sam was trying to lay out.

“That’s not what I mean—”

“Stop. Just stop, okay?” Dean cut in, his voice tighter now, more upset. He looked between you and Sam, his expression pleading. You knew he wasn’t delusional—just desperate. Desperate to hold onto something that never should’ve been taken from him in the first place.

“Look, can—can we just have one family dinner?” Dean’s voice cracked slightly as he exhaled, his walls barely holding up against the weight of this moment. “Just one. Us—All of us together. That’s all I want. Can you just give me that?”

Before either of you could respond, Dean turned on his heel, walking off, his frustration radiating from every step. He didn’t want to hear the truth. Not now.

And your heart broke for him.

Because even knowing what Sam was saying was right… What was so wrong with just one dinner?

Sam sighed, exasperated, his expression torn. He turned to you, searching for some kind of understanding, and you squeezed his hand gently. 

“This means everything to him, Sam,” you murmured, your voice quiet but certain. “Just one dinner can’t hurt, right?” You weren’t just pleading for Dean—you were pleading for both of them. Because you knew how much this meant to Sam, too. Even if he didn’t want to admit it. Even if it hurt to be the one pointing out the reality of it all.

Sam let out a slow breath, shaking his head. “Yeah… maybe.” He gave you a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes, before squeezing your hand back. Then, with a sigh, he kissed Bobby���s head and walked off, leaving you standing there, staring after them—standing in the wake of something you couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

You found Dean in your shared room, shrugging on his jacket like he was heading out. He barely looked up at first, but the tension in his shoulders was unmistakable.

“Hey,” you said quietly, not sure if he still needed space or if he was ready to talk.

Dean hesitated for a second, then glanced your way, his expression softening just a little.

Bobby had started dozing off on the way to the room, his small head resting against your shoulder, warm and heavy with sleep. You carefully lowered him into his cot, tucking the blanket around him. He barely stirred, his little chest rising and falling steadily, completely lost to the world.

A quiet sigh left you as you straightened, only to startle when you felt Dean’s hands slide around your waist from behind. He pulled you in against him, resting his chin on your shoulder as he looked down at Bobby. You felt the deep inhale he took, like he was trying to memorise this moment—like he was afraid to blink and lose it.

When he finally turned you in his arms, his hands found your hips, his forehead pressing to yours in that familiar way that made the world go quiet. You let out a slow breath, your fingers instinctively sliding up his arms before wrapping around his back, holding onto him just as tightly as he was holding onto you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice rough with emotion.

You shook your head, but he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his hands tightening on you like he needed you to hear this.

“I really did wish for Michael to be gone,” he admitted, his voice hoarse. “But I guess… this just won over that.” His lips pressed together like he still couldn’t believe it, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. 

“My whole family—together again. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. And after Bobby was born…” His voice broke just slightly, and he let out a shaky breath, eyes flickering to his sleeping son with something deeper, something that made your heart ache. “God, I wanted it even more.”

You lifted a hand, cupping his cheek, bringing him back to you. His stubble scratched against your palm as he leaned into your touch, his lashes fluttering shut for a moment like he was grounding himself in it.

“Dean,” you whispered, aching for him.

He opened his eyes again, searching yours, something pleading in them. “I know the risks,” he said, his voice barely above a murmur. “But just for tonight… I just wanna pretend.” His fingers traced soft, absentminded circles against your lower back, his forehead still pressed to yours. “Pretend this is how it’s supposed to be.”

Your throat tightened, your chest aching with how much you understood. How could you not? You knew what it meant to him. Knew what it was like to want something so badly it hurt.

So instead of answering, you kissed him.

Soft, slow, tender.

Dean melted into it immediately, his hands gripping you tighter, like he was afraid you might slip away. His lips were warm, familiar, desperate in a way that made you feel like you were the only thing holding him together. You let yourself sink into it, let yourself pour every bit of understanding, every ounce of love into that kiss.

When you finally pulled back, his breath was uneven, his forehead dropping against yours once more. His hands lingered at your waist, his thumbs brushing gently over your sides.

“I was just gonna grab a list of ingredients from Mom,” he murmured after a beat, his lips ghosting over yours. “She wants to make dinner.”

You huffed out a soft laugh, your fingers carding through the short hairs at the nape of his neck. “Then I guess you better go make sure she has everything.”

He smiled against you, but there was something fragile in it, something that made you brush your lips against his one last time before stepping back, your arms slipping from around him reluctantly.

Dean lingered a moment, like he wasn’t quite ready to let go, before finally heading for the door.

For tonight, you’d let him have this.

For tonight, you’d pretend too.

After Dean left, you turned to one of your most reliable coping mechanisms—cleaning. If your hands were busy, your mind had less room to spiral.

You started small, straightening the blankets on the bed, smoothing out every wrinkle with practiced hands. You fluffed the pillows next, then folded Dean’s shirt—the one he’d tossed carelessly over the chair earlier. The fabric was warm from the heat of him, smelling like him, like home. You exhaled, a quiet ache settling in your chest.

Then there were Bobby’s tiny socks on the floor. You picked them up, rolling them together, a soft smile tugging at your lips despite the weight pressing down on you. It was funny, really. You were standing in the middle of another damn apocalypse, juggling the chaos of archangels and time travel, but here you were, folding laundry like it could anchor you.

But no matter how much you focused on the small, mundane tasks in front of you, the worry still crept in. About what came next. Not just with John but Michael, too.

A sudden knock at the door shattered your thoughts. You flinched slightly, blinking as you turned.

And then you saw him.

John Winchester stood in the doorway, shoulders squared, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He was the same man from the stories—the ones whispered among hunters, the ones Bobby had grumbled about over a glass of whiskey. And yet, he wasn’t.

You knew enough about him to form an opinion. Maybe more than an opinion. You resented him for what he put his boys through, for the way he shaped them into men who never got to just be. And yet... you understood grief. Knew how it could twist a person into something unrecognisable. You had lost Dean before—more than once—and each time, the world blurred at the edges, reality tilting until you weren’t sure how to stand up straight again.

John was staring at you now, his expression unreadable. But something in his eyes—something raw—made your breath hitch.

“I’m sorry to interrupt.” His voice was rough, quieter than you expected. He raised a hand, almost apologetic.

You shook your head, straightening. “No, it’s fine.” You set a folded pair of Dean’s jeans on the bed and turned to give him your full attention.

His gaze lingered on the crib. You followed his line of sight, your lips twitching at the edges. You supposed it must be surreal—coming from a time when his sons were much younger, still in the thick of his mission, only to find himself here, where Dean was not just a man, not just a hunter, but a father.

John exhaled, shaking his head slightly. Then, with a small, almost hesitant smile, he looked at you. “You know, I owe you a thank you.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “For what?”

“For taking care of my boys.” His voice was steady, but you could hear the weight behind it. “For giving Dean something real.”

Your throat tightened.

John glanced at the crib again before meeting your gaze. “I know I should’ve been—could’ve been—a better father to ‘em.” His jaw clenched, his voice thick with something heavy. “But seeing Dean with Bobby... It’s proof of how much better he turned out than I ever could’ve hoped.”

He took a slow step forward, stopping just short of the crib. He didn’t reach for it, didn’t intrude, just stood there, watching his grandson sleep. His fingers curled into his palms at his sides, like he wasn’t sure if he had the right to be here.

The hardened hunter was gone. In his place was a man who carried the weight of too many regrets.

“You weren’t always a good father,” you admitted, voice even but not unkind. “You did things that left scars. On both of them.”

John nodded, accepting it without argument. He didn’t try to justify himself. Didn’t try to fight you on it.

“But they’re still here,” you continued. “Despite everything, they’re still standing.” You huffed a quiet, almost bitter laugh. “And knowing them, they’d probably say they’re proud to be your sons.”

John’s throat bobbed, his gaze flickering with something close to pain.

He let out a breath. “Yeah.” A beat of silence. “I’m proud to be their father, too.”

For the first time since you met him, you saw it. Not the soldier, not the myth—but the man.

And before either of you could say anything more, the bunker door creaked open.

The boys were back.

“A temporal paradox.” 

John repeated the words slowly, almost like he was testing them out, rolling them around in his mind. There was a hint of a smile on his lips, like he couldn’t quite believe it. But that glimmer of amusement was fleeting. The weight of the situation pressed down, the reality of what it all meant sinking in fast.

During Dean and Sam’s trip into town, they were faced with all the reasons why you should never mess with time. It wasn’t just that things were different—it was that if they didn’t undo what Dean had unintentionally wished, they could lose a hell of a lot more.

“That’s what Sam’s calling it.” Dean shook his head, huffing out a small breath. “Egghead.”

John chuckled softly, a flicker of something warm in his expression. But then, as quickly as it came, the smile faded. The truth settled in. He’d suspected as much.

“Basically, uh,” Dean started, exhaling through his nose, like the words were heavier than he expected. “If you don’t go back, Sam never gets into the life, and Mom, she, uh…” He trailed off for a second, his throat tightening.

John’s expression shifted—something sad, something knowing.

“Well, without everything that we did, with God, the Darkness… she never comes back.”

Dean cast his gaze downward, the words pressing into his chest like a tone of bricks. He’d already told you, and you’d left him to have this moment with his father while you tended to a restless Bobby. But saying it now, out loud, made it all feel so much more real.

“And, uh—” His voice wavered, betraying him. John caught it immediately, and his face softened in a way that Dean wasn’t used to. 

“What?”

Dean swallowed hard. “I never meet Y/N,” he admitted, voice raw. “And, uh… Bobby is never born.”

John let out a slow breath, nodding in understanding. “Sam thinks they’ll just fade away,” Dean added, his voice barely above a whisper, and the silence that followed was suffocating.

John then looked at him—really looked at him. His mind already made up. No hesitation. No second thoughts.

“Okay.”

Dean blinked, caught a little off guard. “Okay?”

John nodded again, firmer this time. “I mean, me versus your Mom? Your family?” He scoffed slightly, shaking his head. “That’s—That’s not even a choice.”

Dean looked away, but nodded in agreement. Despite how impossible of a choice this was, his heart and soul had already picked you and his son. 

John studied him for a long moment, his sharp gaze flickering with understanding before he tilted his head slightly. “Does she know?”

Dean exhaled. “Sam’s telling her now.”

Before anything else could be said, the quiet moment was broken by the sound of tiny, excited babbling from the hall. Bobby.

Dean and John both instinctively turned toward the sound, and despite the weight of everything hanging over them, a small smile pulled at their lips.

“I think that’s your cue,” John chuckled, the warmth in his voice unmistakable.

Dean let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah.”

With that, Dean turned, already set on making a beeline for you—until John’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Dean.”

Dean hesitated, glancing back.

“I, uh…” John exhaled slowly. “I never meant for this.”

Dean shook his head immediately. “Dad, we pulled you here.”

“No, son.” John’s voice was steady, unshakable. “My fight. It was supposed to end with me, with Yellow Eyes. But now you—” He trailed off, eyes scanning Dean’s face like he was taking him in for the first time. Like he was seeing just how much his son had lived through, how much he had lost, how much he had become, and Dean held his breath.

“You’re a grown man,” John said, voice quieter now, but no less firm. A small, almost wistful smile touched his lips. “And I am incredibly proud of you.”

Dean swallowed hard.

For years—his whole damn life, really—he had chased those words, hunted them down in every action, every sacrifice, every order he had followed without question. He’d needed them more than he ever wanted to admit.

And now, hearing them…

He didn’t know what the hell to do with them.

John let out a breath, shaking his head slightly. “I guess I always hoped, eventually, you’d get yourself a normal life. A peaceful one.” His lips twitched in something between amusement and regret. “But you did get a family. And boy, what a wonderful one you got.”

Dean’s chest ached. Not in the painful way it usually did, but in something lighter, something warmer, and he nodded, voice thick. “I really do.”

John placed a hand on his shoulder, firm and steady. His eyes were glassy, his expression proud, happy, even.

They held each other’s gaze for a long moment before they both let out small chuckles, both clearly not used to this kind of open emotion between them.

John cleared his throat, smiling. “Alright. What’s next?”

Dean patted his dad’s shoulder, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“We eat.”

The library was quiet—too quiet. The usual warmth of the bunker felt dimmed, weighed down by the unspoken grief hanging thick in the air. The large wooden table was set with plates of home-cooked food, a rare sight among the usual takeout containers and beer bottles. Dishes of mashed potatoes, roast chicken, green beans, and cornbread were carefully laid out, though none of it seemed as comforting as it should have been.

At the head of the table, Bobby sat in his high chair, blissfully unaware of the heartbreak surrounding him. He kicked his little feet, happily munching on soft baby carrots, babbling to himself between bites. The sound was a bright contrast to the silence of the adults, their appetites dulled by the weight of what was to come.

Mary sat beside John, her hands resting in her lap, her gaze downcast. Her expression was unreadable—except to those who knew her well. The tight set of her jaw, the slight furrow of her brow, the way her fingers curled into the fabric of her sleeve—it was grief, raw and quiet. She was trying to hold herself together, but you could see the cracks forming. Your heart ached for her, for all of them.

Dean sat beside you, his posture tense, his grip on his fork loose. Sam sat next to him, his lips pressed into a thin line, eyes darting between his parents. No one knew what to say.

And then, John cleared his throat.

“Near as I can tell, we have two choices,” he announced, his voice steady but thick with meaning. He looked around the table, making sure each of you heard him. “All right, we can think about what’s coming, or we can be grateful for this time that we have together.”

A smile ghosted his lips as he reached for Mary’s hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. The tenderness in his touch, the way she squeezed back with slightly trembling fingers—it was enough to make your throat tighten.

“Now me,” John went on, his voice quieter, but firm, “I choose grateful.”

He lifted Mary’s hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to her skin. The small, simple act of love shattered something inside you, and before you could stop it, a tear slipped down your cheek. You discreetly wiped it away, exhaling a shaky breath—until you felt Dean’s hand slip into yours under the table.

His grip was firm, grounding, his thumb tracing gentle circles against your skin. When you looked at him, his eyes were shining—not just with unshed tears, but with love, with quiet adoration. His lips quirked into a barely-there smile, as if to say I’ve got you. And you squeezed his hand back, a silent I know.

John cleared his throat, straightening in his seat. “So, to whatever brought us together,” he said, voice rough with emotion. “We owe you one. Amen.”

You swallowed hard and echoed softly, “Amen.”

John’s gaze landed on you, warm and grateful, before Dean murmured his own amen, followed by Mary and Sam.

And then, as if on cue, Bobby lifted his sippy cup with both hands, grinning as he let out his own version of an, Amen, but without the A. The moment of it—so innocent, so sweet—broke the tension, and laughter rippled through the room, soft but genuine.

Dean chuckled, kissing his son's head, lingering a little before lifting his own beer bottle, and with a glance around the table, everyone followed suit, toasting together.

The warmth lingered long after the laughter had settled, weaving through the quiet moments that followed. Plates clinked softly as forks scraped up the last bites of dinner, the heavy weight of earlier conversations giving way to something lighter—something cherished.

Bobby remained in John’s lap for the rest of dinner, small hands grabbing at whatever was within reach. He giggled happily, his little voice rising and falling as he gestured animatedly, as if telling the most important story in the world. John listened intently, nodding along, his expression soft in a way rarely seen. Mary reached over, brushing Bobby’s soft, blonde hairs from his forehead, her smile tender, her eyes brimming with emotion as she watched her husband and grandson together.

Across the table, you and Dean sat close, his arm draped around you, his thumb moving in slow, absentminded strokes against your shoulder. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way he exhaled deeply, soaking it all in. When Bobby let out a bright burst of laughter—pure, unfiltered joy—your heart clenched.

Dean must have felt it too because he pressed a lingering kiss to the side of your head, his lips warm against your temple. When you turned to meet his gaze, his eyes were already on you—shining, full of something deep and unspoken. He didn’t need to say anything. It was all there.

The moment stretched, the low hum of conversation, the occasional bursts of laughter, the soft clatter of dishes—it all melted together into something perfect. Sam leaned back in his chair, watching with quiet amusement as Bobby shoved a piece of bread into John's mouth, earning a chuckle from the older man. Mary shook her head fondly, her fingers tracing small circles on John's forearm.

It was a picture of something rare.

A family—whole, just for now.

The air felt impossibly heavy, thick with unspoken words and the weight of what was about to happen. The time they had borrowed was running out.

John turned to Mary, his eyes soft, glassy with unshed tears. He reached for her, brushing a strand of golden hair behind her ear before cradling her face in his rough hands. "My girl," he whispered, voice thick with emotion. 

A choked sound left Mary's throat as she closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. They kissed—slow, lingering, as if they could hold back time just a little longer. Your heart clenched as you clutched Bobby closer, rocking him slightly as if to soothe both him and yourself.

When John turned to you, his expression was unreadable for a moment, but then, with a tremble in his voice, he asked, "May I?" He gestured toward Bobby, and your throat tightened as you nodded, tears spilling over. Carefully, you passed your son to him, watching as John pulled Bobby close, pressing his lips to the little boy’s hair.

"I'm so grateful I got to meet you, buddy," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. Bobby blinked up at him, small hands reaching out to cup John's scruffy cheeks. The gesture made everyone smile through their tears, the sheer innocence of it grounding them all in the moment. John closed his eyes, pressing another lingering kiss to the top of Bobby's head before exhaling shakily.

When he looked back at you, his expression was serious, but not heavy. There was something lighter in his gaze now, something settled. "You watch out for these boys, yeah?"

You swallowed past the lump in your throat and nodded. "Always."

John lingered, giving Bobby one last kiss before handing him back to you. As you stepped away, Dean's hands found yours, holding tight, grounding you as you passed.

Then, John turned to his sons.

"I'm so proud of you boys," he said, voice breaking, eyes shining as he looked between them. The words hung in the air, sinking in deep, and neither Sam nor Dean could stop the tears from spilling over as they stepped into their father’s embrace. He held them tight, arms wrapped fiercely around them, as if trying to memorise the feeling, as if trying to make up for lost time in a single moment.

You couldn't hold back your own tears as Bobby nuzzled into you, his small arms wrapping around your neck. He didn’t fully understand what was happening, but he sensed your sadness, and in his own little way, he was comforting you.

John stepped back, his fingers intertwining with Mary’s as he took one last look at his family. His gaze swept over all of you—his boys, his grandson, you—before he nodded, a final acceptance settling in his features.

"Okay," he murmured, squeezing Mary’s hand. "Okay. I'm ready."

Sam hesitated for only a moment before he laid the pearl on the table and then the sharp crack of breaking glass echoed through the quiet space.

Everyone watched in wonder and sadness as John Winchester faded into nothingness.

A heavy silence followed, the air still trembling with his absence. But as the initial grief settled, something else remained—a sense of peace, fragile but real.

And yeah, maybe this wasn’t how things were meant to be. Dean’s wish had rewritten fate. But if it gave them this—a chance to say what had been left unsaid, to mend wounds that had ached for too long—then maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

AN: Okay so this one was a long boi 😅. But I would love to know everyone's thoughts? Did you think this fit well for the request? Also I know John Winchester is a bit of a sensitive topic, not everyone likes him and it's understandable, but I feel I catered more to his human side a little here. Plus this episode was pretty heartbreaking. Anywho I hope you guys enjoyed and thank you anon for the request! 💕

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

Dean Winchester Tag List:

@bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter

@tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2

@deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown

@jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom @cevansbaby-dove @shadysoulangel

@piptoost @star-yawnznn @deansimpalababy @megara0224 @hobby27

@idontwannabehere78 @maddie0101 @kr804573 @shadysoulangel @mrs-nesmith

@zepskies @ohheyguyss @suckitands33 @ultimatecin73 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@arcannaa @aylacavebear @bobbdylann @jaredpadonlyyyy @waynes-multiverse

@impala67stellawinchester @youroldfashioned @bonbonnie88 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @bejeweledinterludes

@rach5ive @ladysparkles78 @globetrotter28 @kayleighwinchester @amberlthomas

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

Reblogging in case others missed it.

Coming soon 2.0 (not in order)

What am I working on? Let’s see. 👇

Want me to write more? Let me know. Please leave a comment or reblog and tell me in your post. I look forward hearing from you! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Castiel

Angel!Castiel x Hunter!gn!Reader, “Surprise Me”, Ch. 2, rated T (currently)

Dean

Vampire!Dean x Girlfriend!Female!Reader, Modern AU, rated E for blood drinking and smut

RPF

Actor!Jensen x Actor!Female!Reader, Spn AU (Canon Divergent), Strangers to Friends to Lovers, rated E for smut

Dark Angel

Alec McDowell x Bartrender!gn!Reader, “Crush” series, meet ugly, roommates, rated M or E for implied or eventual smut

Sam

Hunter!Psychic!Sam x Bar Owner!Psychic!Female!Reader, Bar AU, Strangers to Lovers, Canon Divergent, rated M or Em for implied or eventual smut

Destiel (Cas x Dean)

Destiel x Reader, “Two Men and a Virgin”, Neighbors AU,

Soldier Boy (Bingo)

Soldier Boy ficlet, rated M for discussion of being a camboy

Request (Prize from @spnfanficpond)

Dean/Ketch/Gadreel and Emma fic, Modern AU, rated M for hot naked body description🤤, Daddy/Fluff fic

[uzumaki-rebellion]

A little snippet of "A Tattoo and the Bloodsucker Blues" Part 15

A.N.: I'll have this finished after I complete one more fic for another fandom by the end of this month if not sooner!

Celeste left the house early the day after bringing Gadreel home with her.

Curiosity got the better of her, so she pulled out her bicycle from the sewing room. Gadreel sat dormant in his statue-state in the far corner where she made space for him. She offered him a pile of blankets to make a pallet on the floor, but he only squatted on his haunches and she watched his skin harden into stone at the first light of dawn.

He looked just as terrifying as a hunk of rock as he did as a living breathing being. She tapped his shoulder to test the hardness of his transformation. A small bud looking like the tip of a twig sprouted from his wing-less shoulder. She shuddered to think she had a gargoyle as a roommate.

Heat rested around the crown of her locs and swept around her in lazy hot drafts as she rode to the church. She had to see for herself what became of the remains of Father Mbenga.

She dropped her foot on the sidewalk, halting her bike.

The church looked normal.

The roof was covered in a dark blue tarp with roofing materials stacked neatly. She stared at the doors, tempted to walk over and open them. No…it was better to pretend she knew nothing. There were no police, no caution tape to keep spectators away…nothing.  Perhaps Micah’s contacts cleaned up any evidence of vampires and gargoyle’s scuffling.

She spent the day pedaling around Jackson Square watching buskers, fortune tellers, jugglers, and random street performers entertain tourists. Celeste tried to mentally align her life with the new world she had to function in once more. She was going to be a mother. In order to save her child she had to kill Terry. An eight foot gargoyle told her a fantastical creation story that she believed. Regular humans enjoyed their day all around her not knowing that horrors surrounded them the moment the sun went down.

But she was safe.

She touched her stomach.

The baby kept her safe. Gadreel kept her safe, even with its injuries.

It? They?

The gargoyle technically wasn’t a male without gendered body parts that humans were used to. Calling him a him felt okay because it had a deep voice associated with masculinity to her ears.

“Alright Strawberry, your mother has to figure shit out,” she murmured.

A fifty-ish looking Black woman with fluffy, newly-dyed auburn hair shuffled a deck of tarot cards in front of a portable table and empty folding chair. A small whiteboard with red marking listed her prices and types of readings. What stood out to her was a Vodou veve drawn with orange chalk decorating the cement next to the table. It looked like two sideways crosses with upside down hearts and squiggly lines. Celeste recognized the same marking from the window of a little storefront on Rampart that sold oils, candles, and charms.

“You look like you need a quick reading, young lady,” the woman said.

 “I need more than a reading.”

“A consultation then?”

“I need to find someone.”

“Oh, that’s easy.”

The woman spread the five-inch high blue cards out in a half circle on her covered table.

“Not here, though. Can I make an appointment for later?” Celeste asked.

“Sure.”

The woman handed her a gold card.

Madame Patrice Varte.

“Thank you,” Celeste said.

She pushed her bike away and pocketed the card.

Tag List:

@nahimjustfeeling-writes

@planetblaque

@kindofaintrovert

@thedondada05

@blackburnbook

@avoidthings

@slutsareteacherstoo

@nayaesworld

@notapradagurl7

@4pfsukuna

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@sweettea-and-honeybutter

@comfortzonequeen

@theereina

@brattyfics

@prettyisasprettydoes1306

@megane96

@honeytoffee

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@mightbeher

@melaninpov

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@woahthatshitfat

@hrlzy

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@liquorlaughslove

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@mogul93

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@simplyzeeka

@pearlkitten33

@jas241

@leahnicole1219

@kaykay772

@juniperlovesstuff

@kingclementyne

@thickmadame

@onherereading

@daneiawrites

@hotgrlcece

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@ariiijestertheklown

@blackerthings

@soufcakmistress

@jaythegreat

@venusincleo

@ovohanna24

@kirayuki22

@beas-mind

@supremechae

@solunaseira

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@justlo7

@kanafunee

@contentfiend

@nun0ir

@livingfiction

@megamindsecretlair

@ranikyani

@thegreatlibraryofalex

@wabi-sabi1090

@soft-persephone

@insertcatchynamerighthere

@invisiblegiurl

@mitruscity

@gopaperless

@thabiddie23

@beenathembo

@aldrigmer444

@gg-trini

@youalreadyknowitsmesis

@teddybeerz

@dimepiece09

[samwhump]

a (very inexhaustive, wincest-heavy) sam whump reclist

@transfemmesam asked me for Sam whump recs a few days ago, and I've had other requests in the same vein before (I can't imagine why.../s) so I thought I would throw this together, since these authors deserve all of the love and support for their contributions to our li'l fandom corner.

like I mentioned in the title, this is not at all a comprehensive list; I have at least ~200 more fics in my to-read queue that could thematically fit here, but alas, I have stupid shit like a job and a body and a dog to take care of, so. I'm always happy to get recs along these lines, so if you notice anything important missing, hit me UP. (and don't take any omissions as any specific commentary by me -- it's likely I just haven't had the chance to read it yet, haha.)

disclaimers:

some (most, honestly) of these contain potentially triggering and dark content, including but not limited to rape/noncon, torture, and suicidal attempts & ideation. I have tried to note content warnings where applicable, and most of the works are hosted on ao3, so the tags should have most of the information you need to make an informed decision. that being said, tread with caution. all of the summaries provided are from the original author, with warnings added after by me.

the list is in alphabetical order and separated into wincest and gen categories. a lot of the gen is also focused on the sam & dean relationship, because...I am what I am. and what I am a sucker for these two dipshits. there is also a brief section at the end with a few fics that don't fit into either category.

gen

All That Goes Unspoken by amnesiawife:

A case forces Sam to confront something long kept buried. (Set nebulously in season 12.)

CW: discussions of past rape/noncon, victim blaming

Beneath the Trees 'verse by Lise (5 works total, starting with Beneath the Trees, Where Nobody Sees):

Sam doesn't go to Stanford. Everything goes downhill from there.

CW: suicidal ideation

a boy is a cage by ad_castra:

After expelling Gadreel from Sam's body, Dean thinks they're in the clear. If only they were that lucky. // S9 fic wherein Gadreel's grace causes some adverse side-effects in Sam's mind.

CW: past referenced rape/noncon, body horror

body of proof by Askance (doomcountry):

There are things Sam hasn't told his brother. They're all in the envelope laid on Dean's pillow.

CW: heavy discussion of past rape/noncon

break these bones 'til they're better by redskyatmorning:

After Sam’s torture at the hands of the British Men of Letters, the latest in a long string of violations, he is rescued by Dean and Mary – and forced to ponder his broken relationship with his own body. Months later, when Sam is resurrected and tormented by Lucifer yet again, Dean confronts Mary and Sam gets his revenge against the devil.

catching my death (staring out an open window) by ad_castra:

Sam gazes at the window, catches the faint pink hue tinting the sky. It’s so realistic - he could breathe in the fresh air if he were really here. ----- They got Sam out. Sometimes, just knowing that isn't enough.

CW: implied past rape/noncon

Death of Convenience by WilsonTheMoose:

It should have been easy. Wendigos are no joke but daylight slows them. The weather's been unpredictable though and perfect, idyllic hunts don't exactly stay that way where they're concerned. Or Sam has one card to play and never stops to think that Dean would care if he killed himself.

CW: suicidal ideation, references to suicide

Echoes of Hell by The_Nightbreaker:

It wasn't real. He wasn't in Hell anymore. That's what he tried to tell himself over and over. But two centuries of torture don't disappear in a day. Sam struggles with visions of Hell, fighting to maintain his grip on reality. Dean hates that he can't protect his brother from what isn't real—but curse him if he doesn't try. When the boys stumble on a case with ties to the Devil himself, will they be able to pull themselves together in time to stop the sacrifices? Or will the echoes of Hell finally overtake them? Aka, season 7, but the plot is Hell trauma, not leviathans.

CW: suicidal ideation

Evening Shadows by withthekeyisking:

Sam is hallucinating the monster who tortured him for nearly two centuries, Dean feels like he's failing his brother, and a diner waitress bears witness.

CW: past rape/noncon

Everything Dies Given Time by Lise:

AU from 5.03. Sam discovers something wrong with himself, and learns to live with it. Only a lot less functional.

CW: suicide/temporary character death

The Freedom to Be Loud by jribbing:

It hadn’t occurred to Dean that maybe Sam remembered so much about that little nowhere town because something memorable had happened there.

CW: referenced past rape/noncon

golgotha by redskyatmorning:

There’s a vacancy on the throne of hell, and Sam is desperate enough to save Dean from Michael’s possession to give into the abyssal depths of his own darkness.

Head Space by ameliacareful:

A witch curses Sam leaving him blind, deaf, and bedridden. Left with only the inside of his own head and the occasional touch, Sam begins to unravel.

CW: suicidal ideation

Hiraeth by inkandpaperqwerty:

(n.) a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past "Dean... I made a really big mistake." For a second, Dean actually thought things were going okay. He was out of Hell, Sam agreed to stop drinking demon blood, they had just wrapped up a successful hunt... for once, everything was okay. And then it wasn't. "I overdosed." Not at all.

CW: suicide attempts, suicidal ideation

if i could leave (i would've already left) by serendipity0930:

“I have a mission from God for you,” the Angel whispers to the man. “It is time for you to do what you were born to.” The man’s face twists into a smile, delighted over being chosen by Him, a purpose from God digging into his heart, carving out a place to fester. “Hunt.” ... 05x03 AU where Zachariah is even more determined to keep the brothers apart and hunters are all too willing to take Lucifer's True Vessel off the board for good

CW: referenced suicide

It's A River (But Not In Egypt) by Lise:

He's still a liar. Maybe always has been.

CW: toxic Sam/Lucifer dynamics

Kindred Instruments by PinBitch:

They’re in a tug of war and Sam is the rope. He doesn’t need to be alive for that. OR Sam dies in detox, being flung against the walls of a metal box will do that to you. Dean and Ruby pick up the pieces.

CW: temporary main character death, permanent supporting character death

lazarus trick by katsidhe:

Sam's alive, so everything is gonna be okay. 13.22 coda.

Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence by Lise:

Sam's back. He's in one piece. That's the problem.

CW: self-harm

love is like ghosts by redskyatmorning:

I’m poison, Dean had said instead of I’m sorry. Well, Sam wants to say, what does that make me? What the hell does that make me? (A look into Sam's mind in the aftermath of the Gadreel possession.)

The Other Brother by RadioFriday:

Sam and Adam are pulled from the cage at the same time. Sam is not right, and Adam, stuck as his caretaker, is not pleased.

Oxygen by inkandpaperqwerty:

“Cas! Cas, please! Please, answer me! Cas!” Castiel ignores Dean for several minutes, but then Dean gives him an opening that might help him complete his mission. So, he goes to investigate, and what he finds is a very bloody, nearly dead Sam. Dean tells him where the injuries came from, and Castiel quickly becomes confused. It doesn't make sense, but Dean tries to explain it to him, and slowly... Castiel begins to understand.

CW: suicide attempt

Post Hoc, Ergo Propter Hoc by AmberSock:

Sam waits, kneeling, for his execution. What if Dean hadn't missed?

CW: temporary character death

Safety In Distance by GalaxyThreads and SpiritClusters:

The Mark of Cain is a brand of violence. Sam was an idiot to think that he'd be exempt from it, just because he and Dean are siblings.

sometimes a kind of singing by adi_rotynd:

Sam gets cursed. They're dealing with it. Jack can see souls. That one they're not dealing with quite as well.

CW: past referenced rape/noncon

Soul Windows by GalaxyThreads and Spirit Clusters:

A few months after his birth, Jack learns how to see souls. Then he comes to a realization about the Winchester brothers, Sam in particular, and it's not a pleasant one. (gen)

Starry Night by keepcalmsmile:

Sam attempts suicide-by-monster. Dean tries to help. It sort of works...until it doesn't.

CW: suicide attempts, suicidal ideation

such fragile, broken things by The_Bookkeeper:

Sam wishes that Dean would just get it over with already.

The Tale of Sir Galahad by keepcalmsmile:

Sam once said he could never be clean like Sir Galahad. Dean assumed he was just talking about the demon blood. Turns out, Sam was talking about something else too. WARNING: Extended discussions of the aftermath of rape and childhood sexual abuse (but NO description of the actual events). Happy(ish) ending, but potentially very triggering.

CW: past rape/noncon, mentioned CSA

They Hammered in His Teeth by jribbing:

Sam has a secret.

CW: suicidal ideation

today's troubles (are history tomorrow) by a_good_soldier:

"It's not really something I know how to share," Sam had said. In which Dean figures he ought to help Sam out a bit.

Touch and Go by themegalosaurus:

Tag to 9.19 (Alex Annie Alexis Ann) in which Dean realises why, exactly, Sam is so angry about what happened with Gadreel.

trust fall by ad_castra:

“I’m nothing like you,” Sam hisses. Nevermind relating to the anguish of going it alone. Nevermind that he knows what it is to be strapped down and forcibly cleansed against his will. Sam wonders if these trials are purifying Crowley as well. 

Words Like Glass by broken_cinders:

Dean never figured the cage wouldn't leave a mark. He was prepared for memories, flashbacks, and nightmares. He wasn't expecting the words Sam brought back with him or the way they made him seem just a breath beyond Dean's reach.

Wound and Unwound by fascra:

Sam stops eating spring of his freshman year.

CW: eating disorder

wincest (dean/sam)

Brittle by thecapn:

Sam Winchester has an eating disorder.

CW: eating disorder

Don't You Cry No More by sixtysevenlmpala (schittyfic):

The first time Sam gets badly hurt on a hunt, he doesn’t cry. Dean does.

Fall On Your Knees by dollylux:

Sam doesn't quite make it home on the last day of school before winter break.

The Fall Will Probably Kill You by killabeez:

Set between 7.04 and the aftermath of 7.07. Dean is not as okay as he'd like you to think. Neither is Sam.

CW: self-harm

Feels so good to feel again by Trojie:

The pain keeps Lucifer at bay, at least to start with.

Follow In Your Form by withthekeyisking:

Sam is hallucinating Lucifer in the wake of Cas bringing his Hell Wall crashing down. To make matters worse, it seems like this has his dormant powers flaring back to life.

Last Temptation by merle_p:

Sam is running a fever again, the kind of fever no Ibuprofen or cold compress will bring down, the kind of fever that is eating him up alive, eviscerating him from the inside. He is too hot and too cold and too pale, delirious and shaking, resonating with whatever divine energy the trials are subjecting him to, and Dean is not sure how much longer he can stand to see him be in this state. Because Sam is quite possibly dying, and there is nothing Dean can do to stop it. Because Sam is dying, and he just. Won’t. Shut. Up.

CW: mentioned past rape/noncon

leeches by Anonymous:

Sam discovers a spell to make everybody forget him. He’s convinced it’s for the best. Pre-Stanford.

CW: attempted kidnapping/torture

Make Thick My Blood by themegalosaurus:

“You’re going to kill me, Dean,” Sam says, eventually. And all Dean can say is, “I think I am.” A season 10 AU, set after 10x14 ('The Executioner's Song'). Cas finds a solution that might cure the Mark of Cain; but if they're going to go through with it, Sam has a terrible price to pay.

CW: mentioned past rape/noncon

Prophecy of an Abomination by ashitanoyuki:

Sam is kidnapped by fanatically religious hunters and crucified. Coming back from this won't be easy. Canon-divergent from midway through season 2.

Recall by De_Nugis:

Sam's having a hard time telling what's real and what isn't, especially when it comes to some voicemails from Dean.

The Room Upstairs by brokenlittleboy:

Sam comes back from hell, but he’s inside-out and all wrong, and Dean can’t fix him.

CW: mentioned past rape/noncon

Ruin You (and its companion fic Worth) by Mumble_Bee:

Cole fucks Sam with Demon!Dean watching from a devil's trap, snarling that anyone would dare touch what was his. “I told you I don’t care what you do to his face or his blood or his fucking nose,” Dean growled, “but you put your dick anywhere near him and I will end you.” “Better hurry up then, Dean, because I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

CW: explicit rape/noncon

Snowed In by HelloStarlingFics:

When working a case, Sam and Dean get stuck out in a shack in the woods when the snow comes in hard and fast. Trouble is, Sam’s hated the cold ever since the Cage. Time for Dean to step up and look after him.

Wake by minchout:

Gadreel has had Sam for four years, and Dean, lost in guilt and obsessed with finding a way to get his brother back, has isolated himself in a cabin in the Missouri Ozarks with nothing but the woods, a stray dog, some chickens, and all the books the Men of Letters had to offer to keep him company. Then Sam shows up one day without his passenger, and Dean learns quickly that it doesn't matter that Sam is with him again - there is still a lot of work to be done before they can find their way back to each other.

Wanting to Forget by morganaDW (morgana07):

1-shot. S1 fic. After getting Sam freed from the Benders Dean thinks all he has to cope with is some bruises and cuts. He learns quickly just how wrong he is when Sam wakes up with a nightmare, reliving his brief but bad captivity in every detail. Sam just wants to forget & Dean has to try to get him to let him help. Will one night of cruelty and pain ruin what’s been formed between them?

CW: referenced past rape/noncon

when I wake up I'm afraid, somebody else might take my place by quake_quiver:

Sam doesn’t remember the last time he cried for Dean like he did that night. And now it’s been…two weeks. Maybe more. Sam is tired, and in pain, and starting to doubt that Dean’s going to show up. He’s weak and shaking from a combination of constant pain and hunger. Sam longs for Dean. Dean would make it better. Dean would fix it.

CW: rape/noncon, body horror

Wire Inside Me by merle_p:

There are a lot of things Sam hates about his current condition, to the point where he sometimes feels for the gun under his pillow at night, blindly toys with the safety, imagines pressing the muzzle into the underside of his chin and pulling the trigger just to make it stop. But there’s nothing he hates as much as the shadows he sees in Dean’s eyes whenever his brother is looking at him these days. It’s not an expression he remembers ever seeing before, but Sam thinks it’s probably something like revulsion. Horror. Disgust. What else could it be.

CW: referenced past rape/noncon, body horror, forced pregnancy

Worth (and its companion fic Ruin You) by Mumble_Bee:

Episode 10x01 "Black" where Dean is a human, and very, very, pissed off to hear someone has hands on his brother. “It’s nothing personal,” Cole whispered into Sam's ear, too quietly for Dean to hear, “but I need to kill your brother, and I need him off his game when he gets here. I don’t wanna hurt you, kid, but I’m going to, anyway. I’m going to hurt you a lot."

CW: explicit rape/noncon

you'll never see us again by according2thelore:

Then finally, his eyes trail over to Dean. His pupils are pin-point thin, and his hair is straggling in his face so Dean can’t see most of what expression lies there. Sam usually wakes up from nightmares in one of three attitudes: confusion, fear, or calm. A scary, sense-prickling calm that Dean hates more than anything else. Resignation, almost. Or: Sam suffers from nightmares and touch starvation post-Cage. They do their best to deal.

other Sam/Lucifer noncon

Cage Fight (No Way To Do This Right) by Dyed_Red:

Sam’s visit to the cage is already going awry, but Dean’s one-man rescue ends up skidding it sideways into territory neither him or Sam are ready for. (Gratuitous episode scene re-write. If Cas hadn’t come till after, if he hadn’t been there yet when Dean ran down to the 'parole' cage after hearing Sam scream - how bad could it have got for the brothers before he made it?)

CW: graphic rape/noncon

Into Being by withthekeyisking:

When Sam wakes up in the cave on Apocalypse World after having been killed by vamps, it's not just to find Lucifer there with him. It's to find him in him.

CW: graphic rape/noncon, necrophilia, forced pregnancy

Reggie/Tim/Sam noncon

a pointless resistance for you by withthekeyisking:

Sam doesn't know how long he's been with Tim and Reggie by the time Dean shows up and tries to take him out of there. Long enough that's he's already lost one baby and is pregnant with the next. Long enough that this life is starting to feel like all he knows.

CW: graphic rape/noncon, forced pregnancy & miscarriage, victim blaming

screaming birds sound an awful lot like singing by withthekeyisking:

Sam has done his best to move past what Tim and Reggie did to him, pretending it never happened at all. But running into them again makes that very difficult—especially when Dean gets involved.

CW: referenced past rape/noncon

Waste 'Em All by withthekeyisking:

When Tim and Reggie try to force the demon blood down Sam's throat, he spits it back out. He has no interest in being turned into their own personal attack dog. They don't...take it well.

CW: explicit rape/noncon

[hexedwinchester]

What the later seasons of Supernatural are Missing?

It's no secret that as Supernatural added more seasons, the quality of the show deteriorated and the only reason it ran so long was because of Jared and Jensen. This dilution is attributed to a lot of reasons: Kripke's era coming to end, change of writers and show runners, poor writing on the part of new writers, focus of the story shifting from Sam and Dean to supporting cast. But here's something I don't see folks mentioning a lot and that is it lacked a good villain and not just that but rather a good villain with personal interest/vendetta with our boys. Let me explain..

Season 1 and 2: Though season 1 starts off with the boys looking for their father, the plots twists into Yellow Eyes chasing Sam down for personal reasons. He is invested in Sam, personally. That's what makes it beautiful

Season 3: Stakes are high as Dean is on the clock to walk the red carpet to Hell. While that's a major crux, Lilith who holds Dean's contract is also making the vendetta quite personal

Season 4: Sam is pumped on Demon blood being manipulated by Ruby to kill Lilith to stop the apocalypse with a side of getting some revenge for dragging Dean into Hell. See what I mean? Personal again. It's all about the boys

Season 5: it can't get any more personal than Lucifer and Michael twisting the guys to say yes to being their vessels. While the angels try everything to get a yes from Dean, let's put that aside for a minute and focus on Lucifer. His first interaction with Sam is in the form of his dead girlfriend. His obsession with his vessel is so fucked up, as if he knows Sam inside out, like he already has crawled under his skin. One look at Lucifer will tell you he only has eyes on the prize: The Great Sam Winchester. That's what made this season great!

Season 6: This is where it subtly starts to go downhill. While the Soulless Sam storyline holds interest, the whole find the purgatory feels like a side quest i'd be happy to skip because the prize is not our boys' journey. Frankly, I don't care a damn about the war between Heaven and Hell

Season 7: Probably in the top 5 of my least favourite seasons. Leviathans were lame with their world domination plan by buying real estate and their leader Dick Roman sucked. It seemed like a USA problem than Sam and Dean problem. The worst of it all? Borax kills them?! Say what?! Wut?! The oldest creatures with a weakness of cleaning agent?! What's next? Shedim are scared of hyaluronic acid? Let's squirt them with moisturizer!

Season 8: This was one of those seasons without a proper antagonist. And yes, the angel/demon tablet fiasco. Nothing against advance placement student Kevin but I didn't enjoy the prophet storyline. It would have been interesting if they made it personal to the boys. I loved the Trial Sam storyline and what would have made it better would be if instead of Kevin if Sam could translate the tablet after spending all those years in Hell, you know?

Season 9: Though Gadreel wasn't the main antagonist, his possession of Sam was good. I would have loved it if they extended the part when he doesn't get out of Sam, made it personal, something like Meg!Sam situation. On the other hand, I was happy with Metatron. He was sneaky, cruel and power hungry and it was personal after he got Kevin killed.

Season 10: Somebody jog my memory of what Season 10 was supposed to be other than Demon!Dean and Mark of Cain. I have already made a post on how Demon!Dean was not utilised to a full potential and i stand by it. And that's all I have to say about this season.

Season 11: Darkness and her personal connection to Dean. Now, see the idea sounded good in theory. But sadly, they never exploited this personal connection. It could have played so well but no, they made it about God and his sister. This season also provided a gateway to bring back Lucifer but...

Season 12: it brings us to the season I hate the most. We got Lucifer back but he was no longer obsessed with Sam? (Yawning!) We got BMoL but oh god they were nothing more than a bunch of snobs in suits or as Sam rightly said "accents in a pansuits". Like seriously, what could they do to him? Nothing, that's what. Then whole Lucifer's son plot was so weak, it makes the entire season difficult to watch.

Season 13: things get very blurry for me from this season onward, so bear with me if I don't get everything right. Probably second on the list of SPN seasons i hate. This is the AU plot right? It was interesting when they mentioned Michael lived in AU but oh god they should have made Michael obsessed with Dean. Stalking him, torturing Sam to get the yes. But nope, none of that.

Season 14: we get Michael!Dean but see it's missing that personal grudge. It feels like a random possession. They could have played this so well, perhaps given us the OG Lucifer vs Michael battle.

Season 15: God? The villain? Again one of those plots that sound amazing in theory but the success lies in the execution. At least, they made it personal so that was really great. What I don't like about this season is the finale. And no, I don't mean the whole who dies, who lives. Or the rebar. Or the safe life with blurry wife. I mean the epic showdown between God and the Winchester that we all were expecting. That storytelling was missing. I don't want punches, I want a freaking battle!

Simply saying, what do you think makes Joker or Moriarty or Lord Voldemort a good villain? It's not just their power. It's their obsession with the protagonist. You take them out, that's the end of it. (I'm looking at you, Sherlock, BBC show)

In conclusion, when the show stopped making the battles personal to the brother, stopped writing the hero's journey, skipped the storytelling element and wrote villain that weren't quite as obsessed with the brothers, that's when it started falling apart.

[emptymasks]

After weeks of drawing, my Supernatural stickers and badges are done and for sale on my Etsy shop! There are far too many characters to have drawn them all, but hopefully at least some of your favourites are here. It was strange given how many years it's been since I first watched the show to be only just now drawing some of these characters for the first time.

Characters available: Abaddon, Adam Milligan, Amara / The Darkness, Anael / Sister Jo, Anna Milton, Arthur Ketch, Ash, Balthazar, Bela Talbot, Belphegor, Benny Lafitte, Billie, Bobby Singer, Cain, Castiel, Charlie Bradbury, Chuck Shirley / God, Claire Novak, Crowley / Fergus MacLeod, Dean Winchester, Demon Dean, Death, Donna Hanscum, Eileen Leahy, Ellen Harvelle, Gabriel, Gadreel, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Jack Kline, Jessica Moore, Jo Harvelle, Jody Mills, Kaia Nieves, Kevin Tran, Lilith, Lucifer, Mary Winchester, Meg / Meg Masters, Michael, Nick, Raphael, Rowena MacLeod, Ruby, Sam Winchester, Samandriel, Tessa.

I also have designed my first standee! It's of Sam/Lucifer from 'The End' episode and is available for pre-order, there's 24 for sale and I'm unsure if they'll ever get a restock as I'm crossing my fingers to just sell those first 24.

I can’t link to my Etsy without risking Tumblr hiding the post from tag search results, but the link is in my pinned post, my carrd, I’m emptymasks on Etsy. Reblogs help support artists more than likes ❤️

[ID: Individual pixel art chibi drawings of 52 characters from Supernatural that are available as chibi stickers drawn with a pixel brush. These drawings are also available as badges where they are placed inside circles to show what they will look like as physical button badges, some of them with plain colour backgrounds and some with 1-3 different pride flags as examples of how you can customise the backgrounds.]

[pupsmailbox]

FALLEN ANGEL ID PACK

NAMES︰ abaddon. abel. acher. adam. aether. allocen. amducias. amon. amy. andras. angel. angelina. angelo. apollyon. ariel. armaros. ash. asmoday. asmodeus. astaroth. astrid. axel. azael. azazel. azrael. azza. baal. balam. balberith. barbatos. bathin. beatrix. beelzebub. behemoth. beleth. belial. berith. bernael. bifrons. blaise. botis. buer. cael. caim. cain. cannibelle. carrion. cary. castiel. celeste. celestia. cerberus. chemosh. corpse. crow. dagon. damien. damon. dantanian. dara. david. dina. donovan. dumah. eden. elena. eligor. ember. enepsigos. erebus. evangeline. eve. ezekiel. flauros. focalor. forcas. forneus. furcas. gabriel. gadreel. ghoul. gomory. guts. hagenti. halpas. haunt. hel. ian. iblis. icha. jeremiah. kage. kasdeya. keres. kimaris. kokabiel. kunopegos. laila. lamia. leila. levi. leviathan. leviathon. lilin. lilith. lucifer. malaika. malpas. marbas. mare. mastema. michael. mikhail. moloch. morax. moros. nathaniel. nicholas. nightshade. nyx. odin. onyx. orias. ornias. orobas. orpheus. paimon. phoenix. procel. purah. purson. qemuel. rahab. raphael. raum. ravana. raven. raziel. remiel. rogue. ronobe. rosier. ruax. rune. sabel. sabnack. saleos. salome. samael. samuel. sanguine. satan. seere. semyaza. sephtis. seraph. serenity. seth. shax. solas. sorath. statuette. tamiel. theo. uriel. uzza. val. valac. valefor. vapula. vepar. vesper. vine. virtue. vual. willow. wolf. wormwood. wound. wraith. xaphan. yael. zagan. zepar.

PRONOUNS︰ ae/aem. aeth/aether. an/angel. angel/angel. ar/arch. be/tray. bea/beast. being/being. bite/bite. blood/blood. broke/broken. broken/broken. cae/caem. cani/cani. che/cher. cher/cher. creep/creep. cross/crosse. curse/curse. da/dark. dae/daem. dark/dark. de/filed. dei/deim. disgrace/disgrace. dove/dove. e/eden. ely/elym. empty/empty. en/envy. fall/fall. fall/fallen. fallen/fallen. fang/fang. feather/feather. fie/fiend. flight/flight. grace/grace. grim/grim. grudge/grudge. gut/gut. ha/lo. halo/halo. hell/hell. holy/holy. hy/hym. hy/hymn. it/it. ix/ix. kill/kill. la/lamb. lo/lost. mon/mon. no/non. om/omen. omen/omen. rip/rip. ruin/ruin. sai/saint. ser/seraph. sera/sera. sera/seraph. sin/sin. smite/smite. smy/smite. teeth/teeth. tether/tether. thorn/thorn. throne/throne. un/holy. unholy/unholy. unknown/unknown. wi/wing. wing/wing. wraith/wraith. wrath/wrath. wre/wretched. ☦️ . ⛓️ . ❤️‍🔥 . 🔥 . 🕊️ .

[seanwinchester]

Yesterday I felt inspired by this gifset so

Here's a complete list of every single character in the show who gets to drive the Impala (shown, mentioned, or strongly implied) (in order of appearance)

Note: "drive" here gets extended to "operate/take control of" (see: ghosts)

Dean Winchester (1st appearance: 1x1)

Sam Winchester (1st appearance: 1x1)

the Woman in White/Constance Welch's spirit (1x1)

a shapeshifter with Dean's appearance (1x6) (mentioned)

John Winchester (1st mention: 1x20, 1st appearance: 4x3)

Andrew Gallagher (2x6)

Meg Masters (in Sam's body) (2x14) (mentioned) / (in her second 'regular' vessel) (7x23)

Bobby Singer (1st appearance: 4x6)

Adam Milligan (4x19) (mentioned)

Gary Frankle (in Sam's body) (5x12)

Sal Moriarty (first owner of the impala before John) (5x22)

Rose Brown's spirit (6x14)

Tracy Bell (a hunter) (9x2)

Gadreel (in Sam's body) (9x10)

Dark Charlie (10x11)

Jessie (a valet) (11x4)

Lily Markham (victim turned monster) (11x4)

Deputy Donelly (11x4)

Mary Winchester (12x1) (implied)

Rowena Macleod (12x11) (mentioned)

a valet at the three-star hotel (12x16)

Kelly Kline (12x19)

one of Santino Scarpatti's bodyguards (13x15)

Jack Kline (14x7)

Max (14x13)

AU Sam and/or Dean (15x13) (mentioned, unspecified if one or both drove the car)

Dean Winchester Jr (during and/or after 15x20) (presumably)

Bonus - close cases/worth mentioning:

The police have the impala towed when Sam and Dean get arrested in 2x7 (implied, we only know she's been put in an impound yard)

Bela Talbot has the car towed in 3x6

Lucifer (with Dean's appearance) drives the impala in Sam's hallucination (7x2) (but the real driver is Sam)

a leviathan with Dean's appearance drives a similar impala (though not Baby) in 7x6 (unspecified if leviathan!Sam drove it as well)

Henry Winchester tries and fails to steal the car in 8x12

the actresses playing Dean and John on stage drive a prop replica of the impala in 10x5

Bonus x2 - a much shorter list of characters who have been the car:

Sam Winchester

[le-fandom-prince]

oh? what's that? you're homophobic? not all characters can be gay? try me bitch.

Dean Winchester? Bi

Sam Winchester? Bi

Castiel? Gay

Gabriel? Pan

Bobby? Bi

Lucifer? Pan

Crowley? Gay

Rowena? Lesbian

Ruby, Chuck, Meg, Jo, Charlie, Jack, Bela, Garth, Ellen, Benny, Azazel, Lilith, Mary, Jody, The Darkness, Kevin, Eileen, Gadreel, Cain, Claire, Metatron, Becky, Jessica, Adam, Dick, Gordon, Donna, Arthur, Rufus, BLAH BLAH! THEY'RE ALL QUEER NOW!

Sherlock? Gay

John? Bi

Moriarty? Gay!

Irene? Lesbian!

Mycroft? Gay!

Lestrade? Gay!!

Mary? Bi!

Molly? Bi!!

Mrs. Hudson? Ally

BLAH BLAH! GAY!!

EVERY CHARACTER IS NOW GAY, THAT INCLUDES DOCTOR WHO, GOOD OMENS, HARRY POTTER, REGULAR SHOW, LEFT 4 DEAD 1 AND 2, MY LITTLE PONY, TEAM FORTRESS, CREEPYPASTAS INCLUDING MARBLE HORNETS, MARVEL, DC, ALL OF THEM!!! GAYYYYYYYYYY

[shallowseeker]

i wonder if the empty deal would've made a bit more sense as like. framing castiel being stagnant as being miserable for him, while allowing himself to change and move onto the next stage of his life would be happiness. like him confessing is not necessarily the Peak of happiness but rather him allowing himself to move past where he's been stuck for the past year, and giving himself permission to be truthful and open, and the empty is punishing him for being willing to change.

You know, I actually quite like that—angels being framed as a kind of prolonged stasis.

ANNA: SICK FOR HOME

Anna hints that this is especially relevant for the soldier class of angels. In 4x10, she talks about being kept in the dark while she was stationed on earth, far away from home/Heaven:

ANNA: I was stationed on earth 2,000 years. Just... watching... silent... invisible... out on the road... sick for home... waiting on orders from an unknowable father I can't begin to understand. So don't tell me that -- 4x10

Anna struggled with being a non-participant in the beauty of her own life. That seems to be a primary reason she fell—this intense loneliness.

//

CAS: LIMITATIONS & REPETITION

And if we go back to Cas’s Ecclesiastes-like breakdown in Season 7, you can see glimmers of that theme there, too—this idea of repetition, futility, the weight of an existence that just is, without real progress or change.

(Aside// Ecclesiastes is a book in the Bible that explores the meaning/meaninglessness of life, and in one of the scripts, Cas mentions favoring it in a conversation with Jack. I've found it fitting ever since.)

In 7x21, Cas talks about the (symbolic) futility of striving for resources, for happiness:

MEG: Oh. Okay. He's at a dog track in Perth. CASTIEL: I’m surrounded by large unhappy dogs. MEG: Yeah, they're unhappy 'cause the rabbit's fake.  [...] CASTIEL: [to MEG] You know, those racing dogs were absolutely miserable. They can only think in ovals. 7x21

Cas talks about this again with respect to the horror of the repetition. It's boring being a non-participant. The wars and sex mean nothing when you love nothing.

CASTIEL: They're from the Garrison – my old Garrison. Looks like Hester's taken over. We were assigned to watch the earth. Often, it was boring. The wars were very boring and the sex – you know, the repetition. Anyway, I was, uh... I was their captain. Isn't that strange? 7x21

CAS: DISTANCING HIMSELF FROM HUMANITY

Here, Cas is retreating into a shell. He's purposely distancing himself from his own life (and mistakes). His breakdown is regression to the nihilism of non-participation.

He distances himself from humanity, from his own feelings, from Dean. He talks about humans in the abstract ("monkeys"), and he seems to retreat into accepting his place as being "a station above them," prospering from humanity's misfortune.

CASTIEL: You know, we weren't sure at first which monkeys were gonna make it. No offense, but I [DEAN moves a marker on the board] was backing the Neanderthals because their poetry was... just amazing. It's in perfect tune [CASTIEL picks up a card] with the spheres. But in the end, it was you – the [CASTIEL moves a marker] homo sapiens sapiens. You guys ate the apple, invented pants. [...] CASTIEL: We live in a "sorry" universe. It's engineered to create conflict. I mean, why should I prosper from... your misfortune? [CASTIEL puts down a marker and moves DEAN’s marker back to the start.] But these are the rules. I didn't make them. 7x21

The human-angel divide is a deep throughline from s6 through s10—and probably beyond. Cas’s struggle with free will, the angel wars, Metatron’s schemes, Gadreel’s arc, even Dean’s Mark. It’s a constant power imbalance, always circling back to what truly makes someone human—or angelic. "I need your blood... I'm not human." / "I'm not human. It won't work for me." / "I just want to be an angel (again)." / "I'm a lot like people." / "Don't make things complicated as you humans tend to do."

//

And yeah, that's a lot of words to say I agree that Cas retains this sense of angelic stoicism/asceticism, even after coming to Earth and loving and protecting his human family.

He's been trained his entire life to hold back emotions (SEE: The implications of the existence of Rit Zien, period). As late as season 10, he's (hypocritically) working to scoop up other angels and send them back to Heaven, even when they want to stay on earth! Then there's his whole... thing with guilt and penance.

Cas is so complicated!

him confessing is not necessarily the Peak of happiness but rather him allowing himself to move past where he's been stuck for the past year, and giving himself permission to be truthful and open ... and the empty is punishing him for being willing to change.

But you're right that this deal has a horrific implication because, as empowering as it is that Cas is breaking out of stasis, in pushing past his angelic asceticism, it reads as punishment.

Even the visual language reinforces punishment. The abyss opens between two handcuffs—literal restraints:

And even at the end, it reads like an empty chair, but not just any empty chair. It's a chair caught in a snare, a devil's trap! Even after the sacrifice is over, Dean’s feet are still inside the circle.

Still trapped there, too (symbolically).

I’ve said it before, but there really is something fascinating about the respective traps in 15x09 "The Trap" and 15x18 "Despair." In both, Cas disappears from the circle. In both, Dean is left desolate and alone.

First, in a Purgatory of the non-participatory non-living. Then, in a torture dungeon.

I mean… deep sigh. I think you're right that there's no way getting around the structural, visceral, visible specter of it being a cruel punishment.

It’s devastating on so many levels.

[keen-eye]

dean getting defensive in paper moon over sam being worried that he’s jumping back into, not hunting, but actually killing, too soon, and immediately bringing up lester and how sam convinced him to summon a crossroads demon for a deal so that sam could use the demon to track dean down (his plan was to stop lester just before he made the deal but sam was too late). dean saying what sam did to lester was him “going dark” and maybe sam’s the one that’s not ready

mind you this is one (1) episode after dean as a demon tried to kill sam with a hammer. and after sam cured dean (he still has the mark of cain), after cole tortured sam for dean’s location, after sam spent forever trying to bring dean home and running himself ragged, after demon!dean killed lester when he wasn’t supposed to, after dean’s “this is a dictatorship”, after dean knocked sam unconscious so he could go kill metatron alone then got himself killed, after he became a demon because he took on the moc without learning what it would do to him, after he went off with crowley to find the first blade because sam needed space after dean let gadreel possess him and who ended up killing kevin while in sam’s body…

[scoobydoodean]

the cold hard truth is that bucklemming is better at writing destiel than berens send tweet

Okay so we all clown on them but is it for destiel reasons or is it because most of their episodes are forgettable and a some of the most memorable ones are memorable for being bad? Like to be fair on this rewatch, I've only just circled back to Bucklemming's return and Berens won't show up for like two more seasons, so this stuff isn't as fresh on my mind. But like I think pretty much Bucklemming took a lot of episodes where certain interconnecting mytharc things "needed" to happen that no one else was interested in writing, so their episodes tend to be kind of unmemorable and sometimes just ridiculous. Like maybe people give them shit for Gadreel making Dean kick Cas out of the bunker? But I don't think that was a decision they made unilaterally. I think it's clear that it was always part of the larger season 9 storyboard? And anyway, 9.01 and their episode 9.03 show a Dean who very clearly worries about Cas and wants him at the bunker.

Also they wrote:

8.07 “A Little Slice of Kevin” where Dean keeps seeing Cas on the road and thinks he’s going crazy from grief/guilt

10.03 "Soul Survivor" where Cas hits us with the Dean understander dialogue about Demon Dean and Dean tells him he's glad he's here.

10.16 "Paint It Black" is SUCH a fucking boring episode but also they literally wrote Dean famous line "There’s things, there’s…people, feelings that I-I-I want to experience differently than I have before, or maybe even for the first time."

10.21 "Dark Dynasty" Everyone working behind Dean's back but Cas telling Sam this will end badly. The "This call is pointless" exchange.

11.18 "Hell's Angel" Lucifer making fun of Dean by mockingly shouting "Cas!" and the "It's not an 'It" Sam, it's Cas!" scene. In fact they write two episodes where Dean is really emotional about Cas being possessed I think?

14.02 where Jack suggests Dean would want them to sacrifice Dean's life to stop Michael and Cas is like "No <3"

15.08 Rowena giving Cas and Dean marital counseling.

15.19 where Lucifer pulls his classic "impersonating romantic partner" move to get someone to let him in, on Dean, using a spoofed call from Cas's cell, and Dean leaps up the bunker stairs thinking Cas is there.

I'm probably missing some but like. I don't perceive them as anti-destiel? They just write a lot of super forgettable episodes.

[uzumaki-rebellion]

A Tattoo and the Bloodsucker Blues Part 14

"Here's to hoping I'll fall fast asleep tonight

And I'll just need to get through this

Born in the darkness, who brings the light?

And I just, I need to get through this

Or just get used to it"

Beyonce & Willie Jones – "Just For Fun"

A.N.: Content Warning(s): 18+. Mentions of violence and religion.

Celeste groaned and rubbed the back of her head where she hit the floor. She ached all over and didn't want to open her eyes just yet. Maybe if she kept them closed, she could pretend everything in her life was normal again.

"Duchess…c'mon cousin, wake up…"

Micah's voice floated above her.

She opened her eyes and coughed. Her stomach still hurt from where Mia punched her. Celeste rolled on her side and covered her face. Micah shook her shoulder.

"We have to get out of here," Micah said.

"And go where?!"

She glanced at her cousin and the once warm rich hues of his brown face had drained away to a pallid coloring. How much blood had he lost?

She rose and stared into his hollow eyes. Fear and shame reflected back to her in equal measure. She glanced around the wrecked sanctuary. It looked like World War III had blown through the church.

Micah touched his wound.

"How bad is it?" she asked.

"I don't think he pierced any vital organs…the bleeding has slowed down. I'm not outta the woods yet."

She stood and surveyed the damage. Father Mbenga's body and head were gone. A deep, mournful sound caught her attention from a pew. Celeste carefully walked toward the noise.

"My God," she muttered.

She found Gadreel curled on his side, one of his wings ripped off of his left shoulder completely. Dark orange clots of his vital fluid darkened the wound area where a hole now lived. The gargoyle leaned back, revealing his entire wounded body to her. His skin bore the marks of a severe ass whooping.

"The father of your child is a fierce fighter," Gadreel said.

Claw marks and missing chunks of flesh aside, the damage to his body wasn't lethal.

"I don't know why he spared me," Gadreel said.

Micah wandered next to her. Gadreel looked up at her cousin.

"Father Mbenga has been too unpredictable…erratic the last few months, Micah. We had the Daywalker in our grasp. But now…"

"I thought he was just under a lot of pressure. I didn't know he'd snap and try to kill us," Micah said.

Celeste glared at her cousin.

"How could you hide all of this from me?" she said.

"This work we do…Micah is under a vow of silence. He is a wetaderi…a soldier… for God," Gadreel said.

"What does God have to do with any of this madness?" she asked.

Gadreel laughed, his voice bouncing against the walls like shotgun blasts. Micah winced, lowering his eyes to the floor.

"It is a tale as old as the beginning of human time itself."

Celeste turned away from the gargoyle and fought to control her emotions and fear.

"I don't have time to listen to bullshit!" she shouted.

"You sound the way Mother Mary did so long ago," Gadreel said.

The gargoyle moved his mouth in a way that mimicked a very human smile.

Celeste cut her eyes at Micah. He watched her with a somber expression.

"Would you have believed me? Had I broken my vow of silence, risked years of moving in the shadows to reveal the truth to you…what would you have done? Called my mama and told her to collect me because I've lost my mind? There are two worlds, Duchess. The one you live in and the one I survive undetected among nightmares. You remember when Grand-mère used to tell everyone that I had the gift of second sight? Well…it wasn't just ghosts she was talking about. I can see things that shouldn't be seen. Supernatural beings count on humans living in ignorance. Growing up, I could see things that no child should ever have to know are real. I think you have the gift too, Duchess. Maybe not as strong as me…but you have sensitivities that draw energy to you. You attract people all the time, and even animals. Don't you remember people saying that animals, old people, and even children were drawn to you?"

"But you were the same way, Micah—"

"Exactly! We give off an aura of some kind…like a GPS signal… that breaks the barrier between worlds and attracts the supernatural the way magnets can pull iron to it. There's a light in you, and I'm sure it's why Terry latched onto you and maybe…other things have found their way near you."

"I've seen Terry's great-great-grandmother's ghost. She came to me after he left New Orleans. Now I know she was really his descendant."

"See? Did you think you were losing your mind for a minute?"

"Just a minute."

"When Terry revealed his true self, you probably didn't freak out as much as a normal person would've. The shock hit you and then you moved on to what mattered. Deep down, I'm sure you instinctively sensed something wasn't right about him or your relationship. The rational part of your mind may have even dismissed unusual circumstances because vampires are the master manipulators…and bay-bee…they can seduce humans like no other. But then they drain you…feed their unnatural bodies and move on to the next willing victim."

Gadreels's lips uncurled into a frown.

"Except, in this case…Terry didn't kill her," the gargoyle pondered.

"We fell in love," Celeste said.

"They are parasites. The only things they're capable of are hate for humanity and hurting others. Bloodlust is their core existence. You should be dead," Gadreel said.

"Yet here I am," she said.

The look in Gadreel's eyes gave her shivers.

"Something is wrong with that…just as something is wrong with you having the ability to carry a vampire's seed," Gadreel said.

He shut his eyes and shuddered. Pain coursed through him, and he groaned under his breath that smelled like raw meat.

"Micah, seek medical attention and then leave this place for good. The vampires who may have survived our battle tonight will hunt you down. They know your face… and your scent. Go as far as you can," Gadreel said.

Micah broke down in tears.

"I'm sorry, Duchess, I did my best to protect you and all the people in this city," Micah heaved out.

"I don't understand…can't gargoyles protect him at night?" Celeste said.

"The familiars and other minions will get to him before we can even discreetly intervene. He must leave and never return. I would suggest leaving the country if you can. The council may help with funds, but your life is in peril here. Go now…quickly. The feral ones heal quickly and might return."

"Is Terry alive?" she asked.

Gadreel nodded.

"He killed many and escaped. Some of his brethren are dead and some scattered. My guess is, he will hide until it is safe to contact you. Unfortunately, there are too many inbred packs and clans in New Orleans right now."

"That's why I called Father Mbenga to send word for help. He messaged as many of our contacts to send the gargoyles here. We had to wait for Terry to show up again. When he's around, the others flock to him. It's our best chance to kill the most vampires. They feel safer when Daywalkers are near," Micah said.

Gadreel choked and spat out a thick glob of bright, orange gargoyle blood that hit the floor in a liquid splat.

"There is a gathering taking place. Our spies and communication networks could not find the source that calls the vampires here in large packs. Something is in the wind and it does not bode well for humans," Gadreel said.

Celeste knelt down and kept her gaze even with the gargoyle.

"What are you really?" she asked.

"I think in your heart, you know."

Gadreel fixed his eyes on Micah.

"Micah, you must escape…leave now."

"What about you?" Micah said.

Her cousin's tone was full of distress.

"I will wait until the sun rises. Perhaps when the humans find me, I may be able to heal in my dormancy when they assume I am some strange statue that appeared in the ruins of this church."

"Terry might find you…and kill you," Micah whimpered.

Watching her cousin's eyes fill with tears, she caught on that these two had a long-standing friendship.

"That's what Daywalkers do…and why they are so precious to the clans. Don't weep for me Micah…you are named 'He Who is Like God' for a reason. Your dedication to me and the council has been admirable for the last fifteen years. It is time for you to escape a fate worse than my own."

"I don't want to leave Duchess. I have to protect her," Micah said.

"You've done all you can. Now she has to do the rest on her own. The Old Ones won't harm her, and the vampires will protect her. Right now, she lives in a sweet spot. She's the safest human on the planet until the beginning of next year when that child is born."

Micah hugged Celeste. Her emotions were ambivalent toward him, but she clung to his shoulders and shed tears for their predicament together.

"Celeste…please…don't keep this baby. You can have others later with a human. I don't want you to live the rest of your life on the run like me, but if you terminate now, we can figure out a new life somewhere, maybe in Mexico or Canada…West Africa, maybe. We always wanted to visit Ghana…connect to the motherland…anywhere, cousin…anywhere…I have enough money saved right now that could cover us for a few years until we settle somewhere far from here."

Celeste shook her head.

"I can't. Maybe if I knew the truth weeks ago…I could've done it…but now…I want to keep her."

"Don't be stupid. All you'll do is curse your life."

"It's my life…and hers."

"Micah, her mind will not waver."

Micah broke away from Celeste's arms and knelt down near Gadreel.

"Then you must stay with her, Gadreel. You can heal at her place. Celeste can revoke her invitation from him and you'll be safe from harm there until you're well. It'll take what, a few weeks for a new wing to grow back?"

"Micah! You can't put him in my house without my consent."

"I'm trying to save your life! If those vampires smell his presence, they'll think others surround you. They wouldn't even think of coming near your house again. Gadreel is your best bet. We can drive him in Terry's truck. Are you strong enough to walk?"

Gadreel nodded.

"I can't leave New Orleans until I know you're not alone in this," Micah said.

"What will we say to our family?"

"They all think I'm the chaotic bisexual with hot feet. I'll tell them I'm on a travel adventure with friends and will return when I feel like it. Don't worry about me."

Celeste glanced at Gadreel. Micah helped the gargoyle stand. He was over seven feet tall.

"He's dormant for twelve hours during the day. He can sit in your sewing room and you won't even know he's there."

Celeste looked the creature up and down.

"Oh, I'll notice him."

"Will you do it? Gadreel saved my life when I was fifteen. A feral vampire almost took me out when I was walking home alone one night after football practice. I owe him, Duchess. This situation is fucked up and I'm sorry you're in the mix."

Celeste took a breath. Life without Micah would've been torture when she was a teenager. He'd been her best friend and favorite cousin for a reason. She loved him more like a brother all her life. Now he had to leave home because he tried to help her survive.

"I'll do it."

Energized by her answer, Micah helped guide Gadreel out of the church.

"Wait, Terry had the keys," Micah said.

"His truck uses a keypad for the doors. He leaves the key fob inside," she said.

Celeste quickly punched in the code on the touchpad under the door handle. Micah lifted the truckbed cover and Gadreel squeezed his bulky body under it.

Celeste checked Micah's wound. He brushed her hands away gently.

"I'll go to the hospital and get stitched and make up a story there. Random stabbing. They'll believe it. Don't talk to anyone in the family about me. I'll notify them with my fake plans. Let the family grapevine fill you in later. I have friends in Atlanta I can go to first, and I'll couch surf until I settle further away. If you change your mind, head to our cousins in California. Word will get back to me."

They quickly hugged for the last time, and he went to his car. She watched him drive off as fresh rain fell down. Looking at the church, Celeste wondered how people would react to what they found later. She glanced around the empty street, feeling a quiet calm. Taking a chance, she ran back into the church and sought for the silver chained rope. She grabbed it and ran back to the truck.

Gadreel moved around in her cottage like a bull in a china shop. His large body appeared laughable sitting inside of Celeste's home. He looked around and sniffed the scents inside.

"He stayed with you here?" he asked.

"Yes."

The gargoyle looked at the pictures on her wall and then turned his attention to her French doors.

"His sentinel is here," Gadreel said.

The shadow was back.

Terry's shadow.

"Do not move," Gadreel said.

He inched closer to the doors and Terry's shadow jerked back, but stayed.

"What is a sentinel?"

"Daywalkers can use their shadows as an emissary to watch over their bodies when they are inactive…asleep. It is a built-in warning system of protection from vampire hunters…and the Old Ones like me. But this is an anomaly. He's using his shadow to protect you."

"From other vampires?"

"Yes, and from other night creatures that roam when humans slumber. I think I am beginning to understand why he left you…why you are still alive."

"Why?"

"Vampires have to feed. They can go three to four days without drinking human blood if they aren't able to secure regular food sources. Once bitten, other vampires will stay clear of you because you belong to another. If he stayed here long enough for his scent to be trapped in this house, then he must've been starving and left to keep from killing you."

"He would kill me? Someone he's supposed to love?"

"He is a vampire, Celeste. He cannot go against his own nature…yet he is doing it. Daywalkers need their shadows with them. He'll become weak without it. Your life meant more to him than his own. Revoke your invitation from the Daywalker. The shadow will return to him and he will no longer be welcome in this house. If you want to keep your baby alive and safe from my kind, then do what I say."

"I'm supposed to trust you?"

"Your cousin did for fifteen years. He was your closest confidante. If he trusted me with his life, then you should do the same."

"You want my baby to live? Aren't you supposed to murder her when she comes out of me?"

"You are a portal. All women are portals for life to come through. If you revoke your invitation, I will tell you how to save your child…let it be born human."

Celeste gasped and moved closer to Gadreel. Terry's shadow loomed over them. Even through the rain outside, enough moon and starlight kept it visible.

She touched her stomach. As a mother, she had the power to protect the little one inside of her, no matter who the child's father was. Celeste loved Terry. Her time with him had been special, but something instinctual and primal took over her mind. If her daughter had a chance to be human, she would do what it took to make it so.

"Terry…you are no longer welcome in my home. I revoke my invitation to be here. Leave this place."

Terry's shadow arms flew up, and it rushed toward the double doors as if it wanted to ram the glass. Instead, it disappeared like water being shut off from a faucet. Instant and abrupt. Celeste touched her chest and exhaled hard.

"Sit," Gadreel said, pointing to her sectional.

She sat down and he crouched down on his haunches, tucking his only wing flat against his back. The pink glow from her lamps gave him a surreal expression. Although he was scary looking, there was a strange handsomeness to his sharply angular face. If someone walked into her home, they would think she was holding a conversation with Satan.

"What I will tell you will determine the fate of your child. So listen to me well. Terry wasn't a human before he was born. His mother was a vampire. Someone I knew when we lived with God."

"What?"

Gadreel closed his narrow eyes and sighed.

"The Old Ones…we were the angels that followed Lusīferi when God cast us out of heaven. Lusīferi wanted the first man and woman to have free will, but God wanted to inflict predetermination. They didn't trust humans."

"They?"

"God is neither male nor female. God is not even their name. If I said it in the language of heaven, you would perish. Human ears cannot handle the power or the mere utterance of the word."

"In the beginning was the word."

"Yes. The word that started creation. It was God's name…God calling upon itself. Lusīferi—"

"Satan?"

"Lusīferi…when they were banished, they chose to become a woman for Lilitu. Some humans called her Lilith…Adam's first human companion."

Celeste jumped up.

"I don't want to know this…just tell me how to save my baby!"

"You are frightened. I understand. You have been led to believe one version of the creation and being confronted with the truth is unnerving. But you must hear it."

Celeste nodded and rubbed her right hand on her thigh out of nervousness. Gadreel clasped his hands together, his claws clicking against each other.

"Lilitu was unhappy with Adam, and Lusīferi gave her comfort. They became lovers, and Lusīferi turned Lilitu into a vampire like her. All of us who stood with Lusīferi became vampires. But several millennia passed and those of us who followed the daystar yearned to return with God. God told us we would have to fight our siblings for ten thousand years, and we did. Our wings were restored to us, but not our ethereal beauty."

"What does this all have to do with Terry? Get to the point, please. I can't take any more biblical parables. My life and my baby are on the line."

Gadreel ignored her and continued.

"Lilitu and Lusīferi fed on humans and ruled over the fallen ones who stayed loyal to them. But a thousand years ago, they parted from one another. They wandered the earth in separate places. No one knows why. But over two hundred and sixty years ago, Lilitu fell in love with a human man here in New Orleans. She fell pregnant with a child. Terry."

Celeste's eyes grew enormous. She slid down from the sectional onto the floor and tucked her knees into her chest.

"Terry was the first and only known vampire conceived with the seed of a male human. Lilitu did not want her baby born a vampire. She sacrificed herself so that Terry could be born human."

"How did she do that?"

"I cut off her head while she was in labor and left her body in the open so the sun would do the rest. She burned away, leaving a human child behind. When nightfall came again, I took the child and left him on the doorstep of the Guidry family who his father belonged to. People who didn't know of his bloodline adopted him. He was their actual family. Terry's father had stepped out on his wife with Lilitu…then sold their child away, not knowing what he had done."

"I can't believe this."

"You must. It was Lusīferi who rescued Terry from the lynching. Turned him back into something Lilitu never wanted for him."

Celeste burst into tears and covered her face, fully understanding what she had to do to save her own child. Kill Terry so that his vampire blood wouldn't taint the baby.

"He wants this child you carry, Celeste. He wants to be in her life. It's why he fought so hard in the church and killed so many…even his own kind who want you dead. Terry has turned away from his clan. Has done so for ten years. They need him, but if they can't keep him, they will take your baby and use her for their protection and my destruction."

"Why did you help his mother?"

"She was innocent. She'd been a human once. I wanted to curry favor with God and show him that humanity was worth fighting for. Purely selfish reasons."

"Then why did you follow Lusīferi in the first place?"

"I thought she was right so long ago. But on earth, she changed into someone I did not understand. Her hatred for humans turned into feeding on them to spite God and his creation. I tried to save Terry once before. Now I want to help his child avoid his fate. You must find him on your own and kill him. Only then will the baby live properly. Your blood bond with him connects you and the child. Break that bond and you will be free."

Gadreel stood and wandered into the sewing room. She closed the door behind him and rested on her bed. Normally she would pray, but would God listen to her pleas to save a baby born of fallen ones?

In the darkness, she wept.

For herself…her baby…and Terry.

Part 15 soon come...

Masterlist.

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[hawkland]

"When your kind first huddled around the fire, I was the thing in the dark."

Other works in this series: [Castiel] [Jack Kline] [Rowena] [Crowley] [Chuck Shurley] [Abaddon] [Lucifer] [Adam/Michael] [Arthur Ketch] [Mick Davies] [Gabriel] [Cain] [Mary Winchester] [Jody Mills] [Donna Hanscum] [Gadreel] [Kevin Tran] [Linda Tran] [Garth Fitzgerald IV] [Death (OG)] [Death (Billie)] [Naomi] [John Winchester]

[beautysurvives]

The Idealized (Cloth Mother) Mary As A Representation Of Dean’s Soul

*warning, I’m gonna use a lot of gendered terms and stereotypes, but these don’t reflect my real world way of thinking. I’ll be saying things like “divine feminine” and “feminine” in general not as material absolutes, but just as shorthand to discuss the recurring themes and use of male and female archetypes in supernatural*

having thoughts I can’t yet fully articulate connected connected to this edit

Amara representing “the divine feminine,” the Darkness to Chuck’s Light, being the thing released by removing the mark of cain— the whole mark of cain arc being triggered by Dean’s inability to kill Abaddon, but also his inability to let Sam die in s8 and his choice to save him against his will in a way that denies his autonomy and leaves them both at the mercy of an abusive parental figure (Gadreel) — the moc itself symbolizing the idea of masculinity as strength and independence.

And then Amara, the fact that, without the mark, Dean can’t kill her, even though he wants to and believes that he should. Dean’s connection with Amara being rooted in their roles as narrative foils. Amara herself being revealed to be extremely empathetic, to be acting out of grief and rejection, being very old and powerful but also young and unknowledgeable about the world. And her believing that the thing Dean needs the most is Mary — so that he can see that she’s just a person. That she’s flawed. That she’s a lot like him.

Mary coming into the world in the same year as Jack — Jack who never would’ve been conceived if Cas hadn’t freed Lucifer — if Cas hadn’t been dealing with his own feelings of physical inadequacy and powerlessness — if Cas hadn’t similarly been struggling with an overabundance of empathy, the thing that made him decide to spare Metatron, the thing that made him feel intense guilt over the times that he hurt Dean, pain over the way that Dean hurt him — and if Cas hadn’t hesitated to kill Kelly and her unborn baby even though he believed it was the right thing to do.

The soul representing empathy, kindness, the ability to feel — traits associated with femininity. How the soul, like Amara to Chuck, represents the female self. How Dean felt that he was never allowed to be a child, because he was being both a father and a mother to Sam. The way Dean — who, at his most comfortable state, is childlike — associates his memory of Mary, the feminine/maternal ideal, with his own state of childlike innocence and ignorance.

And then Jack’s birth — Crowley is the first to die, then Cas, at around the same time as Kelly— and then Mary is taken away. And this is a Mary who, in Dean’s perspective, has finally come around to performing her motherly role by protecting him and Sam. All season, Dean has been advocating for keeping Jack and Kelly alive, finding a way to save them. Cas was the one who wanted to kill them but ultimately couldn’t go through with it. Like Mary — like Kelly — he goes on a journey that leads him to empathy and faith in Jack. Leads him to see Jack as his son.

After losing these softer, idealized parental figures, Dean immediately reverts to his moc self — the kind of person he was in Hell, the kind of person he became after John died, the kind of person John encouraged him to be while hunting —

The self that preferred not having a soul — the self that preferred to not feel. This version of him believes that Mary must be dead, that Cas can’t be brought back.

Once Jack achieves these things for him, Dean’s metaphorical soul is restored. Mary is back in their lives, and for the first time she’s committed to staying —

But, like Dean, like this whole family, she is still so empathetic that it becomes a fatal flaw within the narrative. She was willing to stay in Apocalypse World, apart from her children, because those people needed her too. Dean, when the moc enabled him to ignore his soul, killed the Styne kid (an obvious Sam parallel) without hesitating — but without the mark, he risked his life to save baby Amara.

Amara, like Mary, is the part of Dean that he inherited or modeled after his mother. It’s the thing that drove Delphine to sacrifice herself in The Vessel — the thing that made Dean offer to stay and use the Hand of God himself — her warning that its power would corrupt him, her decision to use it herself because she knew she was supposed to die anyways. The reason that she needed Dean to be the one to kill her to remove the warding — she wasn’t “strong” enough to do it to herself. She wasn’t strong in the stereotypically masculine, unfeeling, reckless way that Dean is expected to be — that Sam often is, especially soulless Sam (who, interestingly, relied on Dean to be his conscious/soul)

Mary’s constant presence in the narrative — what Mary believes a good person and especially a good mother and wife should be — self sacrificial — is the reason that Dean says yes to Michael, the reason that he plans to lock himself in a box without telling anyone, the reason that Cas makes the empty deal, and part of the reason that Jack uses his powers to kill Michael even though he knows that it will cost him his soul.

So yes, it makes sense that it’s Jack who kills her. It makes sense that she’s even here with him in this scene — because she’s been trying to make up for her absence in Sam and Dean’s life, and he’s her chance. And, as she always does, she throws herself in harms way to protect them — and to protect Jack. Her final death scene has always annoyed me, because it felt so out of character and forced, but I can accept the idea that this was her doing what she was never able to do with Sam and Dean. Being there.

And why does Jack unintentionally kill her? Because she’s making him feel things, like a pesky soul. Her behavior — her actively caring about him — is making him feel afraid, weak, out of control. So he gets rid of her.

Everybody wants the cloth mother, but in this world of extreme violence that requires you to not feel and not empathize and be completely self sufficient, her presence is a hindrance. When she dies, suddenly it’s a no brainer for Dean to convince Sam to do to Jack what he wanted to do to himself all season — to lock him in a box, where he can’t hurt anyone. What Chuck ordered his sons to do to Amara. Dean has lost this symbol of his soul — like accidentally freeing Michael from the closet in his mind — being weak and letting your enemy surprise you, letting your guard down, failures that Dean always beats himself up for the way his father did with him.

Which is why Dean’s betrayal of Amara in season 15 is so so interesting to me. Lying to her is a risk to his own safety, that he knows can end badly. But it is also a test of his strength and his ability to kill the thing inside him that Mary represents — because remember, he’s angry with Amara for even bringing her back. He decides that it was meaningless, not real — like Jack’s failed attempt to resurrect Mary, empty. So trying again to kill Amara through deception and betrayal is a test of his ability to do “the right thing” no matter the personal cost. Even if it hurts. Just wanting his mother back led her to die again. Just that scene of emotional honesty and mutual understanding between himself and Amara in the s11 is the reason that any of this happened — it’s the part of the story that he blames on himself, and his weakness.

It’s not just that he’s willing to kill Jack, or willing to shoot Sam, but that, even after being told that he would die, that everyone he loved would die, he’s still willing to do it. He has to be. It’s not anger at any of these individuals that’s fueling his choice — because he does love them. It’s Mary’s death, and the symbolic death of his emotional, vulnerable, child self that, like Jack, wants to be loved and accepted and forgiven. It’s giving into the other child self — the side of him that is like Chuck, the masculine half of creation — that, like soulless Jack, or occasionally Sam or Cas, denies responsibility and looks for someone, a more powerful figure, like Mary or Amara, God, Heaven, Cas (pre 15x09) — to blame.

Doing all this for the sake of killing Chuck, but especially killing Amara along with him (which Sam was onboard for UNTIL it became clear that he and his loved ones would also die, because for him Amara’s freedom means “the monsters win” and that he and Dean would turn into monsters) — is a denial of Dean’s inner truth.

But what I can’t get over is the fact that not going through with that is what makes them miss their chance to defeat Chuck this time. Billie appears and berates them, and informs them that Jack might’ve survived — it reminds me of Rowena’s sacrifice at the top of the season, how her death led her to go to “the right place,” as the queen of hell — and how Sam was, initially, somewhat okay with the idea of Mary dying, because he knew that she was back in Heaven, at peace. That Billie just wants everyone to go where they belong (where they were originally, or where they were predestined to be) that, for many seasons, they’ve been toying with — getting close to — sealing the gates to Heaven and Hell. That the series culminates with Jack — a symbol of union, a thing that keeps the tfw family, especially Cas and Dean, together —but also a symbol of the three of them being unwilling to let each other go — disappearing. Sam and Dean going to Heaven. Cas being in the Empty, never able to see them again. Not even conscious — feeling nothing. Not existing. This coinciding with not only the AU hunters being erased from the narrative, but also everyone who has been family to them (mostly, female characters like the wayward sisters) just… out of sight out of mind

It still just makes me wonder about the way that Sam and Dean are positioned in this season, because I’ve always felt like Dean gets the short end of the stick here. And going back to the way that Sam was motivated by his fear of Chucks bad ending where the monsters/Amara win — Amara being a symbol of Mary, someone that Sam had never really gotten to know up until her return from apocalypse world, except through Dean’s memories of her. How the thing that Sam really wanted was any sort of relationship with her — something Dean had that he never got. Sam doesn’t treat Mary as a mother as much as a colleague / friend — maybe even a coparent to Jack while Dean is missing/possessed. But Sam is more at peace with her death after he gets this. For me it just connects to how Sam has always sort of viewed Dean, as sort of specter of Mary — which is both a good and bad thing, but more often than not is bad. Dean is his obligation to stay in the life, to stay with his family, his soul when he doesn’t have one — and often, the person he blames when he makes choices with world ending consequences— or choices that put innocent people at risk, like freeing Dean from the mark at the expense of Cas and Charlie, ultimately freeing the Darkness.

The fact that Dean himself says that his death is good. Like Cas, like Jack, like Mary, he either dies or happy or becomes happy in the afterlife. The fact that the whole story for Dean and Sam, could start with Mary’s deal to save John — that she is a God to them, and that Jack, who brings Cas back to life and saves Mary, becomes God — I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know.

[pollsnatural]

I've seen people compare two situations: 1) Dean saving Sam against his wishes (debatable)* by allowing Gadreel to possess him, which results in people dying (namely Kevin dying); 2) Sam saving Dean against his wishes (debatable)* by using the Book of the Damned, removing the Mark of Cain and releasing the Darkness, which results in people dying.**

*I write that this is debatable because people often have arguments about this. This does not represent my opinion and does not mean that I intend to hurt anyone's feelings by doing so.

**These descriptions lack nuance. This was done intentionally to see how well people remember these nuances and to avoid rehashing seasons 9 and 10.

***Question for tags.