#Dean's soul marked by Death

[n0t-m00se]

I’m putting all of my heart and soul into a new fic that I’m determined to finish…if you even care…

[quietwingsinthesky]

i just loved that the writers were like mark of cain dean slowly becomes more and more barbaric and inhuman as he can’t control this primordial, gaping wound in the form of an already healed over scar that has been borne by the devil himself and is in fact what made him the devil and therefore will make dean long and lust after maiming and ultimately murdering people with an urge stronger than any love or passion or resolution he’s ever experienced in his life And Also He’s A Huge Misogynist

well. TO BE FAIR. you have just kind of described dean when he is normal also.

[glorystark]

Empty eyes | Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean doesn't take Charlie's death too well and because of the Mark of Cain affecting him, he tells you things that will regret.

Warnings: moc!Dean Winchester, Dean being a dick, minor mentions of injury, swearing, ANGST, major character's death

Pairing: Dean Winchester × reader

Featuring: Sam Winchester

Word count: 2,3k

We watched in agony as Charlie's body, wrapped around a white sheet, burned in the flames. This should never have happened to her kind soul. She died so we could save Dean. I couldn't help but feel guilty; my heart ached because I lost a friend, again. I knew Sam felt the same. We both asked Charlie for help with the Book of the Damned, and we both lied to Dean about the book being destroyed. Now it was too late to make things right. Memories flashed through my eyes, making me tear up. I remembered when she helped us with the Dick situation, or when I taught her some hunter-kind-of-tricks. How happy she was and wouldn't stop thanking me. She didn't deserve this, anyone but her.

“Charlie,” Sam started, grabbing my and probably Dean's attention. “We are gonna miss you. You're the best.” He stopped when his voice cracked, and now I was sure he felt far worse than me because looking back, he suggested not telling Dean about the Book of the Damned not being destroyed, which I didn't agree with at first. But seeing Dean, my Dean, slowly fade away right in front of my eyes changed my opinion. Maybe it was selfish, me and Sam both were. But we couldn't let Dean become something he fears, a Monster. We couldn't lose another person, another family member, but we didn't realize who we were putting in danger on this path.

“We love you, Charlie, and I'm so sorry,” I said, blinking through tears.

“Shut up,” Dean said coldly, making Sam and me look at him. “You got her killed. You don't get to apologize.” He continued.

“Dean-“ Sam started, but Dean cut him off.

“You too, you two are the reason she is dead,” he said, not taking his eyes off the flames.

“We were trying to help you,” I said, still looking at him.

“I didn't need help,” he said bitterly. "I told you to leave it alone.”

“What were we supposed to do, just watch you die?” Sam asked, not letting me be the only one receiving the cold tone from his older brother.

“The mark isn't gonna kill me.”

“Maybe not, but when it's done with you, you won't be you anymore,” I stated. “Dean, you're all we got. So of course we were gonna fight for you because that's what we do,” I said softly.

“Yeah, she's right, we had a shot-“ Sam was cut off again by Dean.

“Yeah, you had a shot. Charlie is dead.” He finally turned his head to look at me and his brother, who was standing next to me. His dark emerald eyes bore into mine, and I couldn't recognize them. Never have I ever seen him look at me with those eyes. Because no matter how much crap we went through, he always made sure I was fine, and his eyes held nothing but sweetness and, on most occasions, worry. “Nice shot.”

“Are you even listening to me? You think I'm ever gonna forgive myself for that?!” I snapped, not being able to keep my voice down anymore. He is grieving, but so am I. If I could, I would trade places with her.

“You know what I think,” he started, still with the same voice tone. “I think it should be you up there and not her.”

I felt my heart break for the hundredth time today. I parted my lips, not taking my teary eyes off him, which clearly showed how hurt I was. Sam let out a small gasp and widened his eyes after he heard Dean's words, clearly not expecting his brother to go that far.

I knew he blamed me, probably even more than Sam. But knowing that he wanted me dead hurt more than any physical torture I've experienced.

Sam called his name, still shocked after what he heard, but his brother just walked away, breaking my heart more and more.

—————

It has been a week since I lost Charlie, since I lost my Dean. He has been searching for the Stynes ever since but has been having a bit of trouble finding their location. So meanwhile, he went on a few solo hunts. He hasn't said a word to me and to Sam, just a few like ‘buy some beers’ ‘did you find anything about the Stynes’.

He found another hunt for today and was packing his bag in his own room. We both haven't stepped in our shared room ever since the accident, which meant we weren't even sleeping on the same bed. I'm done with being ignored, so I knocked on his door and opened it without waiting for any response. He didn't even turn around, probably knowing it was me.

“Dean,” I called his name, not even knowing what I wanna talk about, but getting him to look at me was the first step. “Dean,” I called, this time louder, and when he still didn't turn around, I walked towards him and grabbed his arm. “Alright, I'm done. When will you finally stop ignoring me?!”

He looked at my hand, which was grabbing his arm, and slowly turned around, finally looking at my face. “I'm not ignoring you, I just don't want to talk to you or be near you,” he said bitterly, pulling his arm away and reaching for his door.

“Dean, you know you're not the only one who lost someone, okay? And believe me, I know it's my fault she's gone, and I'll never forgive myself for that. But, god, you're practically killing me. I miss you,” I said desperately, waiting for something in his eyes to change, waiting for him to embrace me in his strong arms, but... Nothing. His eyes didn't even hold hatred anymore, just emptiness.

“I don't know what you expect me to say, ‘I'm sorry you were so stupid’ ‘I'm sorry you got another person killed off’ ‘I'm sorry you're so fucking useless’ Huh?! Is that what you want me to say? You want me to feel sorry for you?!” he yelled, showing the anger and darkness in his eyes while he harshly slammed me to the wall, making me whimper slightly. His words cut deep into my skin, but I tried my best to ignore them, knowing this Dean wasn't really my Dean.

“I want you to understand, I want you to know that I'm sorry. I want you to tell me that we're gonna go through this like we always do,” I said softly, looking deeply into his eyes, trying to crack him.

He let out a dark chuckle and grasped my shoulders, lowering his head to be on the same height level with me. “You want me to tell you that we're gonna go through this? Well, baby, in that way, I'd be a big liar.”

“Dean, me and Sam, we are so close to saving you. Please, just don't let the mark control you,” I begged, feeling small under his touch.

“I don't want nor need you two saving me, and believe me, at this very moment, I'm trying to not let the mark control me, so don't provoke me,” he whispered against my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

"I thought you trusted me.”

“Well, that trust was destroyed when you got someone who was like a sister to me killed. Have you ever noticed how many innocent people died because you were being too stupid?” he said harshly.

"We all have made mistakes, Dean," I said, as I thought about the hunts where innocent people died, and I couldn't save them. I didn't want Dean to know how much his words were affecting me, but, god, I felt like a crumpled paper.

“Seems like that's the only thing you ever do,” he smirked, letting his eyes fall on the floor again before looking up at my eyes again. “Tell me, how does it feel knowing you don't mean anything to anybody and you're just a burden in our lives? How does it feel knowing nobody loves you?”

That's it. That was the punch line to make me break into tears.

“Y-you love me, you said that before.”

“You know I lie to get laid,” he said, smirking, proud of his response.

My heart was racing more and more, and I felt nauseous.

“Dean, please-“

“You're nothing, do you hear me? Nothing!” he grabbed my cheeks harshly. “Your existence doesn't matter. You.don't.matter.” he said, spitting the words out before letting me go. He took his bag and walked out of the room, not even glancing at me. I slid down the wall as I started sobbing silently.

Then I heard a buzz from my phone.

New message from Sammy:

“Y/N, Dean just said he found a hunt, probably three to four werewolves, and he told me to go with him. I was really surprised but didn't question him. I think he's getting better. I'll also talk to him on the road. Next time, he'll definitely ask you too, just like old times. Don't stay up and don't worry; we got this :) love you.”

He asked Sam to go, but not me. If he hadn't told me that he hated me a few minutes ago, I'd think he was worried. But if it was really 3 or 4 werewolves, there's nothing to be worried about. He just wants to stay away from me. He told me I was a burden to them; he'll probably throw me out of the bunker soon.

Dark thoughts ran through my mind, and suddenly a rush of anxiety ran through me. What if there were more than a few werewolves? What if they get hurt? What if Dean hates me even more?

I checked Sam's message again and saw that he sent me the address of where the werewolves' location is and where the hunt would probably take place. I quickly rushed to my room, grabbed my car keys, and went to drive to the location.

—————

I was hiding behind some of the trees in the forest, watching as each of the boys fought one werewolf, two already dead ones on the floor.

Everything seemed good so far; I mean, their guns were on the floor, but they were fighting each werewolf single handed and there was no need for me to make my presence known. The boys were winning as always. And that's when I realized they don't really need me in their life. I knew the words that came out of Dean's mouth tonight weren't really Dean's, my Dean. But he was somehow right; before I became the hunter I am today, I made many mistakes. Some were small, and some led to people getting hurt or even killed. I also put their lives in danger multiple times because I was being reckless. Finding the demons that killed my parents blinded my vision. I was ready to get back to the bunker when I saw both of the werewolves giving up until I noticed something.

A werewolf close to Sam's back, and it seemed like none of the brothers noticed him. I searched for my gun but remembered I forgot it in the backseat of my car. I cursed under my breath and did the only thing possible right now to save Sam. I couldn't let Dean lose another person, especially his brother, who I knew meant the world to him. I couldn't put him through something like that again when there's a chance to save the younger Winchester.

So I ran towards Sam, trying my best to not slip because of the woods on the floor. The Werewolf was close, and nobody noticed him. I'm not the only stupid one after all. The boys turned their heads to me for a slight second, surprised at my presence, but didn't stop fighting the other werewolves.

Until I pushed Sam away from the werewolf he was fighting onto the floor. He seemed confused at first, until he saw it. I assumed Dean did too but couldn't be too sure since he was behind me. I let out an agonizing scream when the werewolf grazed his claws into my stomach and the other one, which Sam was fighting before, grazed his claws into my back before my lifeless body fell on the floor. Dean didn't hesitate more seconds before getting his gun from the floor and shooting all the werewolves.

I was bleeding like a waterfall from my body and my mouth. But the good thing is-

I didn't feel any pain, or anything in that matter…

Dean Winchester’s Pov:

No no no.

This can't be happening.

It's all a nightmare, just another stupid nightmare.

I heard Sam's crying voice telling the love of my life, his best friend, to wake up, holding her torn apart body in his arms, asking her why she pushed him away. But there was no answer.

It's a nightmare happening in real life.

Her beautiful y/e/c are open but so empty, unrecognizable.

I stood over her body, not being able to move from my spot.

There is so much blood everywhere.

Her blood.

This is hell.

No, I’ve been to hell and it's worse than hell.

I started tearing up more and more, reality hitting me more every second.

I let out an angry scream and fell on my knees when I remembered my last words to her.

“You're nothing, do you hear me? Nothing! Your existence doesn't matter. You.don't.matter.”

She wasn't nothing, she was my everything.

She mattered, she was the reason I kept going, now she's gone and it's all my fault.

All my fault.

All of the words I said came back to me, making my chest hurt.

As I knelt beside her lifeless body, surrounded by the aftermath of our shattered world, I whisper into the silent abyss, "I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so sorry."

And deep down I felt the Mark laughing…

[jasvtsc]

demon!dean x angel!reader.

tw! mentions of death, anxiety, blood, graphic language, manipulation, dean being an a-hole, corruption, grammar mistakes (ig)

word count! 2.1k

it was hard seeing dean in this state.

at first, you thought he was dead. you watched him die in your arms. then, you found out that he was a demon? and to make everything worse, no one wanted to tell you anything — they thought it was for the best.

why? you had no clue.

so, when they brought him in, back to the bunker, you almost got a heart attack. you wanted to scream, cry, throw up and do everything else that humans do when they’re overstimulated with emotions. however, your state of distressed euphoria didn’t last for long when the bad news came crashing down on you, making you hyperventilate and experience what was called a panic attack. while you were getting more human, your beloved was turning into his worst nightmare.

dean was a demon.

yeah, he indeed died a year prior, but because he was bearing the Mark Of Cain at that time, he was resurrected. and you weren’t exactly sure if you were happy about that.

sure, it was dean. he looked the same.

but it wasn’t your dean.

those green eyes, once full of love and adoration for you, now were as empty as the hole in your heart that his death left. whenever you looked at him, you didn’t see him — the soul once shattered but put back together by you. now, it was only darkness which consumed every tiny bit of light you tried so hard to put in him.

it wasn’t your dean.

you were sitting in the war room in your usual place — an armchair in the corner, right next to the cabinet stuffed with lore books and other things. nervously picking at your wings, you let the feathers drop to the ground as you stared with empty eyes at the wall in front of you. castiel and sam were discussing what to do with dean and how could they possibly save him — if the whole process was even reversible.

you had no idea how they managed to catch him in the first place and drag him back here — no one was telling you anything. you were as clueless as you could be, knowing only that the man you loved the most was now the creature of darkness you were taught to despise since the early stage of creation.

you didn’t get a chance to talk to him yet. and you weren’t exactly sure if you wanted to. you only saw how they dragged his unconscious body to the basement and locked him up in there, chained to the chair in the middle of the anti-possession symbol.

as more and more feathers covered the wooden floor, the man and your angel brother noticed the state you were in. they looked at each other and then back at you. sam sighed and came closer, placing his hand on your shoulder. you shivered lightly and looked at the younger winchester.

“hey, listen, we think that we found something which can help bring dean back. but we can’t leave him alone here so—“ sam explained with a soft smile, and you could see that when he turned his head towards cas, he wanted him to continue. the angel widened his eyes and nodded.

“oh, yeah. we want you to stay with him,” as always, painfully straightforward.

“why me? can’t one of you stay?” because frankly, you didn’t want to face him. not yet.

“birdie, you’re—“ sam started, but you quickly cut him off.

“don’t call me that,” you said with a stern voice, your tone almost threatening. it was what dean used to call you. no way you’d let this word slip from someone else’s mouth — it was reserved only for dean winchester.

“okay, fine, i won’t,” he raised his hands in surrender, taking a step back as he felt like you were about to hit him with something. “it’s just… you’re in no shape to go outside at the moment. look what you’ve done to your wings—“

“what i do with them is my fucking business,” you hissed, and both of them were stunned. you just cursed.

they were looking at you in disbelief, and suddenly, you felt embarrassed with your little outburst. however, you weren’t going to apologize for your feelings — you had an absolute right to be upset and frustrated. so, shooting them both a cold glare, you left the room.

in the end, you were left alone with dean. it took you some time to mentally prepare for the confrontation. but eventually, you pulled your shit together and decided to go down to the basement.

carrying a tray with some food, you slowly opened the door and peeked inside. suddenly, you felt as if your heart was about to burst out of your chest, and your mouth was dry as if you hadn’t seen a drop of water in days. you slowly walked out into the dim light, showing yourself to him after god knows how long.

and then, you heard it — a mocking, cold-hearted chuckle that echoed through the air.

“oh, now, who do we have here? my little birdie. i missed you so much, baby. did you miss me, too?” he asked with a cruel smirk, tilting his head to the side as he sized you up, his eyes flashing a pitch-black colour for a second.

for some reason, all the courage you built up in yourself vanished as soon as you made eye contact with him. he was scary. you never thought you’d admit it, but you were genuinely scared of the man who once used to hold you so dearly in his arms, stroking your hair and whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he placed small kisses on your temple. now, he had this darkness in his soul that made you want to hurl — your angelic nature physically declining being anywhere near such evil.

you tightened your fingers on the tray, looking around the room, thinking what you should do. you couldn’t free him from his restraints, but then again, he had to eat, somehow. because still, you cared about him. fuck, you still loved him.

“come on, birdie. you’re not even going to say hi to me? please, let me have a look at your pretty face. it’s been so long,” he cooed, suddenly putting on that soft voice you were so used to hearing. but then again, you could just sense the mockery and the dark intention behind his words. everything coming out of his mouth in this moment was insincere.

but was that enough to make you weak? yes.

because, oh god, even if it was just for your delusions and how naive you were, you just wanted him back. you wanted your dean back, and you were ready to pretend as long as it was needed.

so, slowly, you looked up at him, trying to hold back your tears as they dwelled in your eyes, threatening to spill down your rosy cheeks.

dean smirked menacingly, running his tongue over the top row of his pearly white teeth, letting out a grunt as he bit his lower lip, slightly thrusting his hips forward and spreading his legs.

“there we go. my good little angel,” he taunted, eyeing you up and down with a predatory smile.

“what happened to you?” you asked meekly, your voice trembling as you swallowed a lump in your throat. you were sick to your stomach, and the smell of evil basically radiating from him didn’t help.

“me? nothing, birdie. it’s me, dean. your dean. your precious human, don’t you remember?” he tried acting clueless and innocent but quickly gave in to his demonic nature, letting out a cruel laugh as he threw his head back. “come on, don’t act so fucking dense. i’m a demon, now. you should’ve gathered that much by now. or did they not tell you? no wonder. you’re so fucking infantile that it’s just straight-up pathetic. you’re not a fucking kid. sure, you’re this cute, little, clueless angel. but come on, use your damn feathered brain sometimes,” he scoffed and rolled his eyes.

and holy shit, did that hurt.

you bit your lower lip, your eyes now obviously glossy when you let out a small sniffle. you just wanted to run and hide somewhere, away from him and his cruel insults. now, you were 100% sure.

it wasn’t your dean.

you were ready to leave the basement. you turned around and took a deep breath, but dean wouldn’t let you go so easily. as soon as he noticed that you wanted to escape, he used his soft voice. again.

“hey, hey, hey. birdie, i’m sorry. you know i didn’t mean that. it’s just—“ he grunted as if he was struggling. “it’s this demon in me. i can’t control it,” he started panting heavily, a smirk still on his face as you were turned with your back facing him. “birdie, please. you have to believe me. i would never hurt you.”

damn, did that work.

hearing him struggle and be in pain just cut at your heartstrings. quickly, you turned around with a panicked expression and stepped closer to him.

“dean?” you asked, your voice breaking as tears flooded your face, dropping from your chin onto his thighs. he nodded, putting on an act and using his most pathetic expression.

“it’s me, birdie. please, help me,” he almost choked on his words, his voice pained and hurting. “please, baby, you’re the only one i can count on.”

you knew you’d probably regret that later. but jesus, you were so gullible, and you loved him so much.

almost immediately, you freed him from his restraints, cupping his face and stroking his stubbled cheeks. he sighed and grabbed your wrists, giving them a gentle squeeze as he leaned into your touch. at this point, you were long gone.

“tell me what’s happening, dean. let me help you,” you whispered, carefully scanning his face, still clueless that all of it was just a scene.

“it hurts. baby, it hurts so badly,” he whimpered, squeezing your wrists tighter. hearing that only made you panic even more.

“where? tell me where, i’ll heal you,” you sobbed, your vision blurry because of your tears.

“you can’t. you can’t heal it,” he panted, closing his eyes shut and grunting in mock pain.

“what do you mean?” you widened your eyes. “why not?”

“there’s only one way you can help me,” and you were ready to do anything for him, your self-preservation instincts turned off instantly. with a nod, you encouraged him to continue. “birdie, i need your blood.”

and that was enough for you to freeze on the spot. your mouth went dry, and you exhaled a shaky breath. he needed your blood, which was probably the most sacred thing in the universe. angel blood was the rarest to get, and it had its power.

“h-how? why?” you stuttered, shaking your head as you tried to understand it. you didn’t know anything about angels helping someone with their blood. and you were scared of the possible consequences.

dean cursed in his head, trying his best not to frown and scoff. instead, he kept on with the pathetic act. he whimpered again and then grunted, leaning forward as he put his hand on his chest, pretending that he struggled to breathe.

“please. i- i can’t,” he groaned and then screamed in pain.

“okay, what do i do?” you asked, widening your eyes as even more panic flooding your system.

“feed it to me. please, birdie. let me drink your blood,” he begged and then, you acted purely on your feelings, throwing any remaining logical thought out the window.

without much further ado, you lifted one of your wings and took a single feather. you slit your wrist with the sharper end, and as the crimson liquid started dripping down your skin at high speed, you put it closer to his face.

dean closed his eyes and inhaled the metallic scent. it took him a lot of effort not to moan in pure pleasure and excitement. he licked his lips and then grabbed your hand, putting his mouth in your wrist and drinking your blood like a man starved. you gasped and scrunched your eyes, tilting your head away as he dug his teeth into your skin for a better grip.

you began to feel more and more lightheaded as he drank more and more of your blood. when you finally looked back at him, only then did you realize your mistake. his eyes were pitch black, and his mouth was covered in your blood. he pulled away and smiled sadistically, looking at you like a feral animal.

he pushed you onto the floor and chuckled darkly, looking around the room. he grabbed the feather you dropped and it practically rotted in his hand, turning into a dark blade-like object. you widened your eyes, crawling away from him as he started to walk towards you with a bloodthirsty smile. and then, only one word slipped from his blood-covered mouth.

“run.”

a/n: idea inspired by @angelicjackles !! lmk what you think, all feedback is very much appreciated:))

༄♡ tags: @internetitgirl17 @beausling @deanswidow @titsout4nicholas @deansbite @aileenunfiltered @a1ecmcdowell @angelicp0etry @figthoughts @fitxgrld @hrtsoldierboy @10ava01

[kaleldobrev]

Please Don't Leave

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: Dean's lucky to have you in his life and honestly doesn't know what he would ever do without you

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Cursing (3x), Fluff, Vulnerable/Angry Dean

Authors Note: The gif makes me sad | This might seem a little non canon but at the same time I honestly feel like Dean would react this way (fight me if you want, but I said what I said) | I just love this man so fucking much | Dream/Flashbacks are in italics | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

Dean didn’t have a lot of consistencies in his life, but you were one of them. Out of everyone he had known in his life, you were one of the only people that had remained with him through all the heartbreak, all of the death, all of the blood, sweat, and tears that this life had. You had been through it all with him: Sam going to Stanford and leaving him behind, his fathers death, him selling his soul, the year that Sam went to Hell, the year the two of you were in Purgatory, the few months he was a demon, his bloodlust fueled by the Mark, him being possessed by Michael. He had an endless list of things that the two of you had been through together, things that would cause any normal or rational person to throw in the towel; but not you. “You can’t get rid of me Dean Winchester, not even if you kill me yourself.” You had joked. And that was something that he had almost done – and on several occasions too. And yet, you never left him. “I guess I’m just stupid.” You said. “Or maybe the sex me and you have is just that good.”

The sex he had with you, now that was something. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced; and he has had quite a lot of sex during his lifetime (not that he bragged about it of course). When the two of you initially met, it was only supposed to be a working relationship, a friends with benefits sort of deal. But eventually it turned into more. He wasn’t sure where him or you had gotten your wires crossed but they did; and it turned into you and him always finding each other at the end of the night regardless of the different men and women that had hit on both of you at the bar you two were at.

The sex used to be quick, usually done in either a drunken haze or after a tough hunt. But it eventually turned into something that either one of you would initiate through soft touches: a kiss on the forehead, a simple hand hold, or cuddling into each other. Once, in the middle of sex, he wasn’t sure why he had said it but he did. He kind of just blurted it out. “I love you.” Now that was something he never thought he’d ever say during sex before. But here you were beneath him, staring up at him with those doe eyes of yours that you frequently had during sex and said, “I love you too.” It was something he didn’t expect.

Dean didn’t know what he could or would possibly do if you weren’t in his life; and that was something he didn’t want to think about. But it was something that has been an unavoidable thought as of late. Waking up to you was one of the worst but best things after a nightmare of losing you. He would wake up in a panic, his heart racing, sweating; afraid that you were gone for good this time. But without fail, every single time you would be right there next to him. Either sound asleep or awake enough to tell him, “It’s okay, I’m right here.” He would always reply the same way. “Just…please don’t leave.” It was a simple yet complicated sentence. “I’m not going to. I’d never leave you.” Those words that you always uttered back should have been comforting to him, but it was just an empty promise – even though he knows that’s how you never intended it to sound. In your heart you loved him deeply, and he knew that. He knew that you’d never leave him; the two of you have been through everything together. But when it came to this life, it was hard to make and keep promises like that.

“Dean, I just can’t do this anymore I’m sorry.” Your words had cut into him like a knife. Like he’d been shot hundreds of times. The torture he received from Hell combined with the loss of his mother was child’s play compared to what he was currently feeling. He just started blankly at the two duffel bags at your feet as you stood in the doorway of the room the two of you shared. Well, formally shared that is. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” You asked, your question snapping him out of whatever trance he was in.

“There’s nothing to say.” Of course there were hundreds, no thousands of things that he had wanted to say to you, but he knew that he couldn’t say any of it. As much as he wanted to beg for you to stay, he wasn’t going to make you stay. Once you made up your mind that was it; there was no convincing you.

You looked at him with a confused expression. “You don’t even want to know why I’m leaving?” You asked, and Dean simply shook his head. “Why not?”

“It doesn’t really matter.” He tried to keep his voice even, to make you believe that he was okay. But he could tell that you knew he wasn’t (you knew him long enough to know when he was or wasn’t okay).

“Dean.” You said, your voice sounding more heartbroken than his.

“It’s alright. You don’t…you don’t have to explain yourself.” He said, taking a seat on the bed you two once shared.

“I feel like you deserve an explanation. We were together for almost twenty years Dean.” You sat down next to him on the bed. He had just wanted to push you away or wrap you in his arms. Two completely differently reactions, but that’s the way he felt. “Dean.” You touched his shoulder and he flinched, you quickly removed your hand. “I love you, and I know you know that but –”

“Please just…stop talking. I really don’t want to hear what you have to say.” His voice was more hurt now, and he could feel himself trying not to say or do anything that he was going to regret. He wanted to cry, but he didn’t want you to have to see that, despite seeing him do it so many times before. “Just, leave if you’re going to leave.” You didn’t move, simply just staring at him. “Go!” He snapped, and that’s when you got up.

You walked over to your bags, slinging one over your shoulder and holding the other one in your hands. “Goodbye Dean.” You said, before walking out of the room. For a while he heard the sound of your boots down the hall, but they suddenly became faint, almost inaudible. The Bunker door opened and closed again. You were gone. Gone for good this time.

“You said you’d never fucking leave.” He whispered to himself. “Said you’d never fucking leave me.” He pounded the bed with his fist. “You fucking lied!” He got up from the bed and he felt himself start to lose control; no longer in control of the emotions that had been building up when he had started watching you pack up your bags.

Dean woke up abruptly, sitting up. He was panicked, his heart racing. His breaths were heavy, his chest moving up and down. He rubbed his face, trying to fully wake himself up. There was no way he would be getting back to sleep for a while; not after that nightmare. “Y/N -” he began to say as he looked over to his right side; your side of the bed. You were gone. “Sweetheart?” He asked, his hand reached out and touched the emptiness next to him: it was cold.

He looked up at the door to the bedroom which was slightly ajar. The only light in the room came seeping in from the hallway. He didn’t remember having the door open, the door was always shut whenever the two of you slept. Despite how safe the Bunker was, sleeping with the door closed added an extra layer of safety, not just for him, but for you as well.

A shadow appeared, blocking some of the light. He reached over and opened the drawer of his nightstand, slightly gripping his gun that he always kept there. Before he could fully wrap his hand around the weapon you squeaked inside the room and shut the door again quietly. A huge amount of relief washed over him in that moment as he let go of the gun and closed the drawer. “Dean?” You questioned, upon hearing the drawer close. “Baby are you okay?” You asked, walking to sit on his side of the bed. He looked at you as you placed a hand on his cheek. Your eyes full of worry.

“You were…” his eyes flickered to your side of the bed that had been empty when he woke up before looking back at you again. “You were gone. When I woke up you…”

“It’s okay. I’m here.” You reassured him, your voice calm.

“Where did you go?” He asked tiredly.

“The bathroom. I really, really needed to pee.” You said, Dean chuckled a little at your comment. “You know I wouldn’t willingly leave you right?” You reassured him again. You felt him nod in your hand.

“I know.” His voice sounding just a hint sad. “I uh, I feel stupid for freaking out.” The sentence was a whisper.

“There’s nothing to feel stupid about Dean.” Another reassurance. Dean had every right to react the way he did; he had lost so much, even before you had met him. You had been with him through everything. Witnessed so much loss and endured just as much. “Was it a nightmare?”

He nodded. “Yeah. It was the…the one where you break up with me.” You hated that one just as much as he did.

“I’m never going to break up with you. I love you too damn much.” You said, giving him a smile. You crawled into bed next to him getting underneath the covers. “Come here.” You held out your arms for him, and without hesitation he went into them. He wrapped his arms around your torso and rested his head on your chest; your arms wrapping around the back of his neck. Your fingers started playing with his hair, gently massaging his head.

The two of you sat there in silence, both of you with your eyes closed. You weren’t sleeping, but you were unsure if he was. Even if he wasn’t, his breathing was starting to get more even, he was starting to calm down. Hearing the sound of your heartbeat always calmed him down. “Y/N?” Dean asked.

“Yes my love?” You asked, opening your eyes.

He looked up at you briefly, tiredly. “I know I don’t tell you enough but…I’m really lucky to have you in my life. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.” He kissed your neck, as that was one of the only spots he could currently reach.

“I’m lucky to have you in my life too.” You responded, giving him a kiss on the top of his head.

“And Sweetheart?” He asked again.

“Yeah?” You asked.

“Thank you…thank you for not leaving me.” His voice sounding a little pained. The sound of this sentence had broken your heart a bit. Leaving Dean was never an option for you, no matter what had happened between the two of you. Being with him wasn’t easy, but you couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. He was your person, the love of your life, your soulmate. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You kissed him on the top of the head again, and you could feel his smile.

That night, Dean didn’t have another nightmare, but he did dream. He had one of his favorite dreams; one that always gave him a sense of calmness and normalcy. The two of you would be just lying in bed together watching some random horror movie on tv. It was something that the two of you have done hundreds, no, thousands of times, so there would be no reason why it would be his so called favorite dream. What made it his favorite though was purely based on one small detail, a detail that made it known to him that it was in fact a dream: wedding rings would be on both of your fingers.

Someday maybe, he thought.

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 @jackles010378 If you'd like to be on a tag list, just message me!

[etfrin]

❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter three | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 NSFW | minor character death, Coriolanus Snow is his own warning

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 Coryo finds out the consequences of his actions and finds one of his friends dead

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 third chapter is here!! Do remember to give feedback, thank you!!

beta read:: @nowitsmissing <33

series masterlist | navigation | previous chapter

According to Coryo, Dean Highbottom deserves to be punched. Coriolanus truly wishes he could punch that man's face and break his teeth in the process.

As soon as he entered the classroom, with you in tow. Highbottom doesn't waste a second to praise your insight into welcoming the tributes at the zoo and how you acted in front of the cameras. Creating the very spectacle they had been aiming for. Snow was fuming because he was sure it was because of his songbird, not his soulmate that the views had gotten up.

But, he doesn't think Mr. High As A Kite cares. Coriolanus almost thought he wouldn't even get any attention, neither positive nor negative. He was willing to accept that outcome considering the fact he perhaps broke several rules being inside the cage along with the tributes.

He was wrong.

‘Three demerits and you will be expelled.’

And he officially has his first demerit, on his perfect darn record. He opens his mouth to speak against it-

“Snow falls down on the cage.

It falls down on the cage

But it landed…” Dr. Gauls’ voice echoes around the classroom as she walks down the stairs to Coriolanus level.

“On stage,” he replied, his face nonchalant but his hands fisted on his lap, hidden from view. He had an urge to kick at the table, his mind reeling over what if Dean Highbottom removed him from the games. Would that mean he will be disqualified from the Plinth Prize?

He can't have that. He can't.

Before his mind spirals into a panic attack, dr. Gaul steals his attention with her words.

“You're good at Games,” she said, “Perhaps one day you'll be a game maker like me.” Coriolanus Snow couldn't possibly think of a future in which he's a gamemaker, he never thought of it as a real career. Nothing of his interests nor challenging enough for him. Of course, he doesn't say his thoughts out loud.

He doesn't reply at all, he doesn't have to because Dr. Gaul asks him a question. What are the Hunger Games for? There's no true answer to that. Something so cruel, something so horrible. There's no way to justify that with the truth. Lies perhaps, lies he was taught in the textbooks.

“They’re to punish the districts for their uprising,” he said, only to be replied with “Dull, dull, dull,” by Dr. Gaul.

“Why the games?” She asked again. And Coriolanus had no answer. Because there were plenty of ways to punish the districts. Starvation. Bombing. Public execution.

Why the games?

Coriolanus Snow had no answer and Sejanus Plinth took over instead. As usual, he spewed about the wrongness of the games. The words that will go one ear in and another ear out. Dean Highbottom butts in the discussion as well, talking about how the game had run its course.

Coriolanus can't have that, he can't even fathom the thought of the games gone and in return losing his chance of winning. Coriolanus stands up, gaining the attention of his peers and authoritative figures alike with a daring but simple sentence.

“Dean Highbottom is wrong. My classmates too,” he said, his voice filled with the confidence he didn't feel.

His fingers twitch, feeling the urge to touch the burned soulmate mark on his wrist as a way to calm his soul down. He did no such thing, burying the urge deep in his mind as he began to explain his reasoning.

“People need someone to root for and to root against. . .” He continues, “And if we bend a few Capitol laws, we can even get people to place bets.”

He swallowed, trying to ignore the fact that his palms had begun to sweat as he waited for a reply. After a bit, dr. Volumnia Gaul grinned. Her smile made his bones chill.

“Very well, Coriolanus Snow,” she said, her tone calm yet underneath laid excitement. “I’d like you to write a proposal of these thoughts, Mr. Snow.”

Before Coriolanus could agree to the opportunity, you jump in. You stand up, beside Coryo. Your soft voice rang in his ear and he subconsciously closed his eyes to savor your voice no matter what it said. For a moment he didn't even seem to hear what you were saying, he quickly opened his eyes, looking down on the wooden floor instead. His pale cheeks burning, praying that no one saw that.

He finally hears what you say.

“Let's not limit the Games to the Capitol. Let's unite the whole of Panem with it,” you said, your voice filled with conviction. “I am sure Dr. Gaul if you give me the chance to write a proposal too, you won't be less than impressed.”

“Very well, miss,” she said, cordially, “I will be looking forward to seeing what the star mentors have to say.”

“Do not disappoint,” Dr. Volumnia Gaul grins before taking herself out of the classroom.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

After a quick lunch (not, he decided to sneak food for Lucy Gray) and a plan to meet up with you in the library at night. He sets out in the Zoo with Sejanus Plinth on his toe. The rich boy carrying a whole bag of food, something Coriolanus could only dream of. While Coriolanus had some sloppy sandwich and cold cookies wrapped in a napkin.

Shamed filled his veins about the fact that in his current abilities, he could bring stolen food for his tribute. He takes solace in the fact Sejanus’ tribute refused the bacon sandwich offered to him. A satisfaction in his mind to see Sejanus being rejected by his tribute while Lucy Gray was cooperative as before.

She takes the food, giving some of it to the district twelve boy. Coriolanus frowned as he saw her share the food he bought her. He leaned into the cage to whisper, “Are you going to share everything I give you?”

Lucy Gray replied, not skipping a beat, “You think I ought to build up my strength so I can strangle him in the arena?”

Coriolanus wishes to snap at her and say yes but he knew he had to show kindness to the songbird for her to do his bidding. He takes a deep breath to calm himself down, as Lucy Gray's eyes divert to his classmate, Arachne, his classmate who was busy amusing herself with her district ten tribute.

“Hunger is a weapon in the districts,” Lucy Gray comments, “Seems like your friend here knows it.”

Coryo barely suppressed a snort as he replied, “She's not a friend. She's poison with perfect teeth.” He smiles along with Lucy Gray. He leans down to Lucy Gray's level, his fingers gripping the bars between them. He whispered, “I may have the chance to help you. Make suggestions. I might even get the chance to send you gifts in the arena. Food and water.”

Lucy Gray replied, her voice hardening with the fact that she knew there was a catch, “What's the catch?”

“You might need to sing.”

“I don't sing when I am told. I sing when I have something to say.”

Coriolanus furrows his eyebrows as he hears her response. She would rather die in the arena than create a spectacle of herself. Stupid in his opinion, to value the integrity of art over their life. He opens his mouth to convince her otherwise but then an incident happens that leaves him shaken to his core.

The district ten girl, the tribute Arachne was playing with snatched the water bottle from his peer, smashes it against the cage… and in a blink of an eye, Arachne had her throat slit.

Horror fills Coriolanus as he rushes to her side. His hands over her wound, putting pressure to stop the flow of never-ending crimson blood. He sees her eyes losing life, he almost didn't hear the gunshots killing the tribute who caused this. He cried out for help, only to be ignored. He was grabbed by the shoulder by a peacekeeper. He was dragged away, as Arachne Crane bled out in front of him.

She was dead.

The people from the district were truly animals is his last thought, as he blinks away the tears and shock and goes to his home.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

In the comfort of his ruined home, he had taken a shower and had dinner with his family. He listens to the warnings his grandma’am spewed and hears Tigris voice her opinion against it. He doesn't say a word in between, his fingers tracing the scar over and over again, it was the action that managed to keep him sane for the moment.

After the dinner, he begins to change his outfit. He wears a black shirt, something from his father's closet, and too-tight grey pants. He looks at his hands and imagines Arachne on them. He takes a sharp breath and watches the red fade away from his mind. He tugs at his shirt sleeve and the burned tissue comes into view.

He does so hoping that you're waiting for him in the library. Lucy Gray was a disappointment, Sejanus too. Arachne death is a disappointment too. You were the only one he could rely on not to do the same.

He pressed his lips to the scar and for a mere flash of the moment imagines kissing you instead. For a moment, he forgets you're District, for a moment you're just his and he indulges himself in the fantasy of having your soft lips against his.

Tigris breaks him from his daydream by asking, “Are you sure that she will be waiting, Coryo?”

He looks back at Tigris, his lips pulled in a smirk, his thoughts free of mourning. He covers the scar and replies,

“She was never one to disappoint.”

Next Chapter

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[nikkisheep]

I'm Better

Sam Winchester x female reader

Warnings: SMUT, cursing, fingering, oral (m&f), praise kink, throat fucking, spitting, rough sex, name calling (whore/slut/bitch), squirting, SOULESS SAM, I REPEAT SOULESS SAM

Summary: You miss the old Sam and the new Sam shows you that he is better than the regular Sam.

Sam was tired of his brother trying to fix him. He felt better. He was a better hunter, faster at killing than he was before. He no longer had to worry about freezing when it came to killing monsters. He was just better. Now Dean and Castiel had left you to watch Sam while they talked with Death to get Sam's soul.

He watched you as you cleaned the small apartment that you were in, watching as you bent over just the right way so he could see those pretty little red panties. You were turning around to ask him something when you stopped to find a shirtless Sam in your living room.

"Uh Sam," You lifted an eyebrow, "where is your shirt?"

"I wanted to work out," He shrugged. He noticed your eyes racking over his body.

"Oh uh, okay sure."

He started to do whatever he was planning but he couldn't help but smirk when he saw that you were checking him out. He knew that you found him attractive but he wanted to see if you would act on it.

"Can I get a glass of water?" He asked about thirty minutes later.

You nod before heading into the kitchen to get him a glass. You returned but Sam wasn't there. He was gone. You were going to turn around but he was standing behind you. You let out a gasp at the closeness.

"Sorry, I went to the bathroom." He smiled down at you.

The air was thick with sexual tension. His bare chest moved up and down with his shallow breaths and you looked up into those brown eyes. They didn't show the same kind of emotion they once did. You handed him the cool glass of water, which he gladly drank. You watched his throat as he swallowed. You were so turned on at the moment you were scared he could smell it.

Sam looked at you before placing his hands on yours. He pulled them to his chest, letting you touch him. His skin was warm but soft. He held your hands to him for a moment later before he let them go, but your hands didn't drop from his chest. You slid them around his pecs and moved them to his shoulders. He placed his hands on your waist and pulled you closer. You looked at him before kissing his chest.

"Fuck," he whispered under his breath.

You took it as a green light and kissed his skin again. This time allowing your tongue to flick against him. He leaned down to kiss against your neck, causing you to wrap your arms around his neck, playing with his hair. He suckled your sweet spot as you moved agaisnt him. His hand went to your ass to pull and squeeze against him, you pressed your hands into his back.

"Jump," He orders.

You do as he says and wrap your legs around his waist. Your cunt came right in contact with his hips. He moved your to the wall before pressing his erection to your clothed core. He kissed down your neck to your chest where he rips your shirt open to reveal your breasts.

"Sam," You moan.

He pulled your bra off and starts marking up your chest. He isn't soft about it. It was all teeth and tongue. You had never felt like this before.

"Get on your knees." You do.

You pull his jeans down and mouth at his clothed dick. He grunts above you before pulling himself out. He was big in size and thickness. You leaned in and licked the head. His head fell back as he fisted himself. You take his cock from his hand and moved it to your mouth. You began to suck the tip and run your tongue over the slit. You loved the taste of him in your mouth. He was heavy and warm.

"Fuck your mouth feels so good."

You take more into your mouth and you deep throat him. He touched the back of your throat before you looked at him to start fucking your face. He pulls out before slamming back in. He does this a few times as you sputter around him. You weren't expecting him to be so hard to take as he fucked your throat. He moved against your mouth as you sucked him for everything he had. You wanted him to cum in your mouth. He pressed deeper in your throat as you gripped his thighs in hopes of him letting up.

"One more second," He coos to you.

You gulp in a breath of air when he pulls out completely.

"Fucking hell, you are such a slut."

He moves the two of you to the couch and putting you on your hands and knees before pulling your pants down. He played with your thong before pulling them off too. He leans in to smell your pussy (yes he does baby). His tongue goes straight into your little hole which causes you to scream. He tongue fucks you for a little bit before moving up to your clit. He sucks it into his mouth which has you pushing back on his mouth. He continues until you are almost there but he stops.

"I want you to cum on my dick."

He presses his cock to your hole and presses inside. The stretch felt like it would never end. As he pressed in, you felt full already and he was not even half way in.

"Just a few more inches baby."

He does not stop for a second before he pulled almost all the way out, only the tip left in. He pushes back in, hard. Your knees buckle and the couch moves. Sam then wraps an arm around your waist to pull you against him. He sits back and has you sitting on his lap. You looked at the TV in front of you, seeing Sam's face in the reflection. He winked at you before picking you up and slamming you back down. He fucks up into you as he does this over and over again.

You moan as he whispers about you being his whore and that he isn't going to let you go. He keeps fucking up into you with fever and the only thing you could do was to take it. You had no choice with how good he was fucking you.

"Whose whore are you?"

"I'm yours Sam."

He turned your head and gripped your jaw. He spit into your mouth and watched as you swallowed it with a smile.

Your sweet pussy clenched around him and he rubbed your clit as he bounced you up and down on his dick. You got closer and closer before you climaxed. It felt as if you were drowning. You could only scream as Sam doubled his efforts and you orgasmed again.

"No more Sam. Too much."

"One more," he says before thrusting harder. He thrusts one last time before spilling into you. His orgasm triggared yours and you squirted a lot onto his lap. He looked down and smiled at his achievement.

"You look so fucking hot right now," He said as he kissed your neck again.

"Sam, I'm tired. No more." You really were tired and your core was sore.

"I'll let you rest but I'm keeping you right here." He said as he moved his hips one last time.

"Sam, I don't think I can go another round."

"Don't worry sweetheart, I know you can." He said before circling your clit.

You arch your back as his fingers slip inside of you, along side his dick. He pulled out but left his fingers in. He played with the cum inside as he fucked you with his fingers. He wanted you to cum one last time. It didn't take long before you did and fell asleep right after. He smiled at you asleep on the couch as he got dressed and closed your apartment door.

Now to find his brother and the angel.

[marksmarkers93]

Ive been...busy?

Anyway CHARLIE FUCKING BRADBURY HAS SPAWNED IN BITCHES!!!!

I made her 3 hair styles because i love her amd she is VERY dear to me. I struggled with her colours for a while but i settled on creamy oranges n rusty reds, cause my future plan for Rowena is RED.

Anyhow charlies cutie mark is a laptop ofc and the magic sparks cause shes a fuckin wizard with a computer. I thought about making her a eartj pony but unicorn spoke to my soul... i also find it HILARIOUS that everyone around dean is either a unicorn/pegasus/alicorn/changling and hes like... the only earth pony. Im pretty sure garth n benny are gonna be earth ponies tho. ENOUGH RAMBLING HOPE YOU LOVE CHARLIE AS MUCH AS I DO OKAY BYE

[reveryfics]

Just Pretend

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Male reader

Summary: You sold your soul for Dean against his and Sam's wishes. Years later you return from hell and finally break about what happened to you.

A/n: Slightly based off "Just Pretend" by Bad Omens. I apologize if the pacing seems off. Wanted to thank everyone for the likes, reblogs, and follows as well.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The wind howled, whipping dust and leaves into a frenzied dance around the desolate crossroads. A lone figure stood there, a young man etched with the marks of desperation. He kicked at the gravel, a futile gesture against the weight of his decision. A shiver ran down his spine as he turned to face the approaching darkness.

A demon appeared, a smirk playing her lips.

"Dean Winchester," she purred, her voice a chilling whisper. Her eyes, twin embers of hellfire, bore into him. "Your soul for his."

He nodded without hesitation. "Deal." The words hung heavy in the air, a damning pact sealed with a chilling handshake.

A moment of quiet. A moment to say goodbye.

The hospital room was bathed in the sterile glow of fluorescent lights. Dean, pale and still, lay connected to a maze of tubes. The young man approached the bed, his heart heavy with sorrow.

A gentle kiss pressed to Dean's forehead.

"I love you, Dean," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I'm so sorry."

The demon reappeared, a harbinger of doom. With a chilling touch, she dragged him down.

⎯⎯⎯

Dean's eyes fluttered open. The room was silent, the machines humming softly. Sam's gaze met his, a somber understanding passing between them.

"No," Dean's voice was a hoarse whisper. "No, please tell me you're lying."

Sam shook his head, his own eyes brimming with tears. "I'm so sorry, Dean."

Dean's heart shattered. "So, just pretend my life's worth it?" he choked out. "He sold his soul for me?"

Sam hesitated, searching for the right words. "He loved you, Dean. More than anything."

The truth hung heavy in the air, a painful reminder of the ultimate sacrifice.

⎯⎯⎯

Four years later, the weight of his decision still pressed down on Dean. Every sunrise, every sunset, every fleeting moment was a stark contrast to the life he once knew. His world, once painted in vibrant hues of love and laughter, had been reduced to a monochromatic canvas of longing and regret.

He'd traded his soul for a life, a life that now felt hollow and incomplete. Dean often found himself questioning the morality of his choice, the worth of his existence. Was it truly just to steal another's fate, to cheat death in such a cruel and selfish way? The guilt gnawed at him, a persistent, unrelenting force.

He missed him, the boy with the kindest eyes and the warmest heart. He missed the way his boyfriend made him feel, the way he'd ground him, the way he'd pushed him to be a better man.

Every memory, every shared laugh, every whispered secret was a bittersweet torment. He clung to these fragments, cherishing them as if they were the last drops of a dying river.

Even the solace of alcohol offered little relief. As he raised a glass to his lips, he'd often find himself staring at a faded photograph, a tangible reminder of a love that had been stolen.

"Heaven knows I ain't getting over you," he'd murmur, his voice thick with emotion.

Dean stared blankly at the flickering TV screen, his mind a fog. The motel room, once a temporary haven, now felt like a prison.

The door burst open. Sam, his face etched with urgency, rushed in. "Dean, we need to go to Bobby's. Now."

"What's going on?" Dean asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"I don't know, but it's important," Sam replied, his tone serious.

As they approached Bobby's house, an eerie silence hung in the air. They hurried inside, their footsteps echoing through the empty halls.

The source of the noise was a room at the back of the house. As they approached, the sound of muffled sobs grew louder. They burst through the door, their eyes landing on a heartbreaking scene. Bobby, usually so strong and steady, was hunched over, his broad shoulders shaking with sorrow. In his arms, a young man, his face streaked with dirt and confusion, clung to him tightly.

Dean's eyes widened in shock as he recognized the face of the young man. It was his boyfriend, his beloved, his lost love, who had sacrificed himself four years ago to save Dean.

Overwhelmed by a surge of emotions, Dean rushed forward, pulling him into a tight embrace. Tears streamed down his face as he choked out, "I missed you so much. I love you."

His own eyes brimming with tears, returned the embrace. "I'm so sorry, Dean. I love you too."

It was late, and Dean lay in bed, his boyfriend cradled in his arms. The warmth of his body offered little comfort to the man who trembled uncontrollably, silent tears streaming down his face.

"Please, talk to me," Dean urged, his voice soft.

His boyfriend remained silent for a moment, his breath ragged. Then, in a whisper, he confessed, "It wasn't four years. It was eighty years for me. Every second was agony." He paused, catching his breath. "I felt everything they did to me—every cut, every brand. They'd heal me, just to start all over again." His sobs grew louder. "I can still feel their touch, Dean. I can't bear it."

Dean tightened his embrace, wishing he could shield his lover from the pain. They lay in silence for a long time, the only sound the rhythmic rise and fall of their chests. Finally, Dean spoke, his voice steady. "I'll never let them touch you again."

[kittenofdoomage]

The Midnight Diner

THIS WORK IS ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST OR COPY MY STORIES. 18+ CONTENT AHEAD.

Summary: An unexpected rescue leads to an unbelievable revelation, and these two hotties being vampires is just the tip of the iceberg.

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader x Sam Winchester

Word Count: 8371

Warnings: alternate universe, threat/injury to reader, character death, attempted assault, gun violence, vampires (not SPN canon-typical vampires, I prefer the Vampire Diaries type), blood drinking, biting/marking, smut (full penetrative sex, spit roast, threesome, oral sex, fingering), fluff, angst, plot twists

Friday night was always busy at the Midnight Diner, which only closed two days a year; Easter and Christmas. It was a surprisingly successful business despite not offering delivery in a world where everyone wanted Ubereats right to their front door, and though it wasn’t where you had imagined your life would lead, you couldn’t complain too much. Okay, you would never be buying your own home, but you made enough to feed yourself and pay your share of the bills, and your boss was a rare good egg. You liked the night shift too, even the slow ones, because the regulars, and even the irregulars, were great inspiration for your real passion.

And Friday nights provided the most entertainment when the various nightclubs in the district spilled out, bringing the hungry drunks to the door. For two hours, you would be too busy to stop for so much as a drink, but it was worth it when it quietened down and your tip jar was full to bursting. Drunk people were apparently generous when someone was serving up a triple bacon sandwich with extra cheese at two AM.

The crowd was all but gone by three, leaving a few lonely souls and regulars behind. You always counted regulars as the ones that were there before you were, but there were a few faces that had become familiar in more recent months. Dean and Sam were two of them, brothers who only came in when all the revelers were gone; they were both tall, handsome, even if there was something odd about them you couldn’t put your finger on. Whatever it was wasn’t enough to stop you flirting, not even enough to hold back the crush you had on both of them.

“Good evening, sweetheart,” Dean crooned as he swept in through the door, Sam hot on his heels.

“Good morning,” you chuckled, gesturing to the clock. “Coffee?”

“You got it,” he grinned before turning his attention to the counter display, humming at the pies. “And a slice of the cherry pie,” he added, rubbing his hands together.

You jotted down the order, and the brothers wandered away to their usual table. It didn’t take more than a few moments to make the coffees, and you swiped the best looking slice of the cherry pie, sliding it onto a plate before carrying everything over to their table. “Busy night?” you asked.

Sam smirked, and Dean laughed under his breath. “Yeah, you know,” he shrugged, “work.”

With a friendly smile, you nodded your understanding. “Lemme know if you need anything else.”

Returning to the counter, you got comfortable in your seat, pulling out your sketchpad. Hugo - the cook - was out on a break, probably sneaking a joint at the back door, and all six patrons had their orders, leaving you with a few moments to yourself. Ordinarily, you preferred working on your iPad, but you hated taking it out with you, so at work, you settled for pen and paper, practicing anatomy and poses instead of working on any commissions you had outstanding.

“What are you working on?”

Dean’s voice made you jerk your head up in surprise, and you pulled the pencil away from the paper. “Oh,” you whispered, “uh, I was just practicing...” Showing your work to others had always been awkward for you; you had no problem posting them anonymously on your blog, but whenever someone asked to see your drawings in real life, you felt they were never good enough.

“Wow,” Dean murmured as he gazed at the simple drawing. “You’re really good.”

“Thanks,” you replied clumsily, avoiding his gaze as your face burned. “Did you need something?”

His eyes lifted to fix on you. “Sugar,” he chuckled, holding up the empty container from their table. “This one’s out, and I think someone stole all the others.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “Not again. I’ll get some more and bring it over.”

Taking the container from him, you strolled through to the back, refilling it quickly. Hugo reappeared, raising an eyebrow at what you were doing. “I thought you did that last night,” he commented.

“Someone’s stolen them again,” you grumble, screwing the lid back on. “Do you remember where Oscar put the new box?”

Hugo shook his head. “Don’t worry about it,” he sighed. “I’ll get Denise to do it in the morning.”

His suggestion was gratefully received, seeing as you didn’t really relish the thought of spending the last two hours of your shift replacing them all. Saturday morning was quiet, Denise could handle the task when she arrived.

Running the sugar back to the brothers’ table, you handed it to Dean, who gave you a dazzling smile. “Thanks, darling.”

He’d never called you that before. You smiled back, then returned to the counter, feeling a little bit like a schoolgirl with a crush as you resumed your position at the till. An hour later and the brothers were leaving, both of them giving you a lingering hungry look as they walked out, the sort that sent a shiver running down your spine and inspired a few explicit imaginings.

It was hard to think of much else for the rest of your shift. 

Time crawled by until five, when Denise arrived and you could finally get home. Outside was still dark, marginally chilly, so you wrapped your coat around yourself and clutched your bag against your body, hurrying along each block as the sky began to lighten. You lived on the other side of the neighborhood, and the quickest route home was through an wide alleyway that stretched behind some warehouses, a passage you’d taken many times before.

On this occasion, it was not empty. You made it halfway before you noticed them, lounging in the large doorway of a warehouse, five men passing a joint between themselves. Keeping your head down, you kept walking, hopeful that they were just hanging out and not looking for any trouble.

“Not even a smile, honey?” one of them jeered.

You ignored it, continuing on, hurrying just a little more.

Two of them got up, moving to block your path. Panic set in, and you came to a stop, turning instantly to go back the way you’d come, but the other three were already up, preventing your escape. “Don’t be shy, baby,” the one who’d spoken laughed as he got a little closer. He reached out, and you dodged his touch, only to back up into one of his friends who grabbed ahold of your arms.

You struggled, kicking furiously at the one coming at you from the front. “Let me go!” you shrieked, fighting him when he caught hold of your face with one large hand. He smirked, so you spat in his face, receiving a hard blow to the jaw for your effort. The impact left you dazed, and the man holding you let go, pushing you to the floor. Your head connected with the concrete painfully; you whimpered, feeling something trickle down your forehead as the men surrounded you, closing your eyes as if that could make them go away.

“Hey!”

The shout preceded a loud thud, then more yelling followed. You remained frozen, bringing your arms up to shelter your head from whatever was happening, trying to fight the urge to pass out as dizziness and nausea overwhelmed you.

Everything stopped. Silence surrounded you, interrupted by distant traffic, and an odd gurgling sound that enticed you from the fetal position and onto your knees. You forced yourself upright, swaying slightly, throwing an arm out to try and gain some equilibrium as you opened your eyes.

Your attackers were scattered around. One was crumpled against a dumpster, another was bent awkwardly over the steps they were originally lounging on. Another one was only a few feet away, splayed across the floor, neck bloodied and eyes open in a lifeless stare. You lifted your head a little more, finally seeing who or what had saved you.

Sam had one of the last two on his knees as he tore at his throat, drinking greedily from the crimson that spilled out. Next to him was the last of your attackers, in Dean’s grip, dangling several inches off of the floor as Dean fed on him. A tiny gasp escaped you, and Sam’s eyes snapped open, deep black fading to hazel as he released the dead man to slump on the floor.

Whatever reaction you could have had to the scene was scrambled by the dizziness swamping you. Your knees trembled, and you felt yourself falling again, only to be caught by Sam, who had moved impossibly fast, cushioning your descent with his strong arms. You fought to keep your eyes open as he grasped your face, and the last thought you had before everything went black, was that maybe they’d kill you too.

The room that greeted you when you opened your eyes again was not familiar. It was dimly lit by several wall sconces, and the bed you were resting on was comfortable, so you didn’t move for a few seconds as you tried to recall what had happened. You were still dressed in the black shirt and pants you had worn to work, though your coat appeared to be hanging neatly on a hook across the room. The collar of your shirt was stiff with something, and that was when the memory of hitting your head came back to you, swiftly followed by the five possibly dead men, and your handsome diner regulars that had dispatched them by -

It wasn’t real.

Was it?

You sat up, just as Sam appeared silently in the doorway, making you jump. He smiled sheepishly, remaining where he was, obviously nervous of how you might react. “You’re awake,” he announced a little lamely. “How’s your head?”

Reaching up with your hand, you felt the raised wound. It was only an inch or so long, tender but not sore. “I-it’s okay,” you managed, eyeing him warily. “Those men -”

He straightened and cut you off. “Yeah, uh,” he scratched the back of his head with a light chuckle, “we can explain all of that, if you wanna…” His thumb jerked behind him, so you assumed he wanted you to follow him. Slowly, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, feeling a little sluggish as you got to your feet. “Are you okay?” he asked, watching as you tested your own balance.

“I think so,” you mumbled, touching the injury to your head again.

“Just take it slow,” he instructed with concern in his voice. “You might have a concussion.”

His worry over your injury went some way to assuring you that he wasn’t going to eat you, otherwise you would have still been in that alleyway, and your curiosity overrode any fear you held. You followed him out of the bedroom and into the hall, noting the lack of windows. “Who lives here?” you asked nervously, suddenly a little worried they had done the same thing to the occupants as they had to the men who attacked you.

Sam glanced back with a furrowed brow. “We do?” he answered with an inflection. “Uh, it’s a basement apartment, if you’re wondering about the windows.”

Your face filled with heat. “Oh.”

He smirked, leading you on into a large kitchen where Dean was lounging against a counter, and he looked up from his phone as his brother entered with you behind. “Hey,” he greeted with a smile, “how are you feeling?”

“Fine, I guess,” you mumbled, smiling politely when Sam pulled out a chair at the table for you to sit down.

“Coffee?” Dean offered, and you nodded, clasping your hands together on top of the table. There was a patch of gravel rash across your fingers, probably from where you had fallen. “I can order breakfast if you’re hungry.”

You weren’t sure hunger was on your list of priorities. “Uh, no, I - I don’t even know what the time is.” Your phone suddenly appeared in front of you, and you blinked up at Sam, who smiled and withdrew to sit on the opposite side of the table. “T-thank you,” you whispered, picking it up. The only notification was an email informing you that your phone bill was due soon; you weren’t entirely surprised that your roommate failed to notice your lack of return. It was nearly midday, so you’d been out for a few hours, and apparently in the possession of vampires.

The phone clattered to the table as everything began to sink in, and the noise made both men look in your direction. Dean jerked his head at Sam, making a gesture to indicate he should talk, but you were pressing your palms into your eyes, trying not to see the bodies.

“Can I, uh, can we explain?” Sam asked gently.

You lifted your head to look at him, suddenly unable to summon a single emotion. “About the vampire thing or the five dead guys from the alley?” you choked out, following it up with a burst of laughter. “Or maybe I was hallucinating, ‘cause of the head injury. Because vampires aren’t real.”

“We’re pretty damn real, sweetheart,” Dean deadpanned, turning his back on you to make coffee.

“What Dean means -” Sam clarified, raising a finger. “Yes, we’re vampires. And yes, we killed those guys. Because if we didn’t, the things they planned to do to you would have happened to someone else.”

Your jaw dropped. “T-the things they -” You shook your head. “How could you know -”

“They weren’t good people,” Sam continued. “You know that.”

“What about the police?” you snapped. “They’re gonna find the bodies, they’re gonna -”

“Uh-huh,” Dean provided. “And it’ll be another unsolved crime in the city. They tend to overlook cases with extreme blood loss because they know guns don’t work on us.” He picked up the coffee he’d made, bringing it over to you and placing it on the table with a smirk. “Kinda funny that I’m serving you coffee now, huh?”

You failed to see any humor in the situation, though you took the drink gratefully. It was made exactly how you liked it, information you didn’t recall sharing with them, but when you looked at Dean, he only smiled a little more, taking a seat at the head of the table. 

“Are you guys actually brothers?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at them both.

“If we weren’t, I wouldn’t have put up with him for this long,” Sam grumbled, and Dean promptly kicked him underneath the table which was all the proof you needed that they were siblings. “I get this is a little weird, Y/N -”

“A little?” you squeaked. “A little?”

“Okay, a lot,” he amended sheepishly.

“You killed five guys in under a minute, drank their blood, and then kidnapped me.” Something occurred to you and your eyes widened. “How did you even know I was in that alley?”

Dean folded his arms across his chest, smirking irritatingly at his brother as the taller man fumbled his words. “Well, we, uh, I mean, we -”

“What Sammy is trying to articulate,” Dean interrupted, “is that we’ve been watching over you for a while.”

You scrunched up your face, uncertain how to take the confession. “Watching over me?”

Sam shot his brother a glare before his features softened and his gaze returned to you. He sighed, leaning heavily on the table. “We’ve been alive a long time, Y/N,” he said softly. “Even with each other, it gets lonely.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with me,” you breathed, even if your mind was provided several ways that had something to do with you.

“It has everything to do with you,” Dean muttered, sitting forward with one hand on the table, the other on his knee. “We always talked about it, and then we came here. The second I saw you in that diner, I - we both knew. You’re… you’re special.”

You shook your head slowly, uncertain what special meant to them. Sam grimaced, huffing lightly. “Neither of us knew how to approach you,” he confessed quietly, “so we just kept going to the diner, kept getting to know you, and in the meantime, we kept you safe. Honestly, we never had to intervene until last night, and then…”

“We couldn’t leave you there to explain five dead bodies to the cops,” Dean finished.

That made sense, at the very least. You didn’t relish the thought of hours being grilled by the police when all the answers you had would probably lead to a psychiatric hold. “Okay,” you muttered. “So, say this is all real, and not some concussion-based fever dream - why am I special?”

They looked at each other, like they were holding a silent conversation. You sat back, folding your arms across your chest, watching them expectantly. The seconds ticked past and neither of them spoke, giving rise to a ball of frustration in your throat.

Dean clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and rolled his eyes. “You’re ours,” he stated firmly as Sam grunted his name in disagreement, earning himself a sharp look from his brother. “We said we’d tell her the truth, Sam, I’m just ripping the bandaid off.” His attention turned back to you, cutting off your confused questions before the first one could even make it out of your mouth. “Me and Sam, we’re not, uh, typical of vampires. Most vampires have a kindred spirit, someone who belongs to them, who they belong to.”

“Like soulmates?” you asked curiously, glancing between him and Sam.

Sam smirked, and Dean chuckled. “Something like that,” he agreed. “Except for us? That someone is just one person.” His eyes locked on yours, and a new, strange feeling slithered down your spine. “You.”

Your heart felt like it was pounding with the weight of his gaze. “How… how do you know that it’s me?”

“We just know,” Sam murmured solemnly.

“Like you knew those men would hurt me?” you whispered, letting your hands fall into your lap. “I’m really not dreaming, am I?”

Dean shook his head. “We’re not monsters, Y/N,” he said softly.

The recollection of the dead men made your stomach twist. “But you’ve killed people.”

“Not monsters,” Sam repeated. “But we are predators. Humans are our prey, we can’t survive without blood. Most of the time, it’s catch and release. They never remember a thing.”

You knew his justification didn’t make it right. Despite what those men had done, what they could have done, the guilt of their death was a weighted burden on your soul. “Do you…” Your lips were too dry, so you wet them, attempting your question again. “Do you feel bad about it?”

“About them?” Sam clarified, and you nodded. “No.”

“Others, yes,” Dean added cautiously. “We weren’t always as restrained, or as careful.”

At least they were honest about it, you mused, looking down at your hands, rubbing your thumb over the patch of damaged skin. “So what do you want from me?” you asked, lifting your eyes to them again. “If I’m… special. What does that mean? Are you going to keep me here?”

“No,” Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “Whatever happens next is your choice.”

“What do you want though?” you pressed, leaning forward. “Am I supposed to… to become like you?”

They shared another look, another silent conversation. Dean spoke first, turning his green gaze on you with a flash of the same hunger he’d shown you the night before. “We both want that - eventually. But it has to be your choice.”

“And you don’t have to make it right away,” Sam continued on quickly, his tone stressing his point. “Right now, we just want you to get to know us.” He smiled, resting his elbows on the table. “We waited a long time to find you, and we can wait for however long as you need.”

You stared at him, wondering if he sounded so confident about it because he was right. There had been an attraction to both of them the minute they’d walked into the diner, and you’d spent too many hours thinking about them, even sketching them, to dismiss the idea of belonging to them easily. But it was still overwhelming, a little hard to digest when you’d spent your whole life being told the supernatural didn’t exist. 

“I think, uh, I think maybe I should go home,” you finally decided. “This is… a lot.”

Sam nodded, getting to his feet. “Of course,” he agreed with a smile. “Lemme get your coat.”

He disappeared, leaving you alone with Dean, who was still watching you, a thoughtful expression on his handsome face. You looked back at him nervously, unused to being under such scrutiny - the only person who’d ever told you that you were special was your grandmother, and she was gone now, along with the rest of your family. The idea of being important to someone was a far off memory; you hadn’t had a boyfriend in three years, and you spent most of your time alone or at work. Picking up your coffee, you drained it despite the heat, putting the cup down as something occurred to you.

“How old are you?” you asked suddenly.

Dean blinked, then smiled. “I was thirty-two when I turned,” he replied. “In 1759.”

“Oh,” you gasped. “Wow. You’re -”

“Nearly three hundred,” he chuckled. “I know, I look great, right?”

The joke made you smile, and you ducked your head, feeling warmth in the tip of your ears. Sam returned, holding out your jacket and shoes as he placed your bag on the table. “We’re only a couple of blocks from your apartment,” he murmured. “I can call a cab if you like or -”

“I wanna ask how you know where I live,” you replied warily. “And how Dean knew exactly how I take my coffee.” You sighed, taking your shoes to drop them on the floor. “But I’m getting a headache so…” Fixing a smile on your face, you slipped your shoes on. “I can walk. It’s not raining or anything, right?”

“Nope,” Dean grumbled. “It’s a really nice sunny day.”

The penny dropped. “Right,” you breathed. “Because sunlight -”

“Does absolutely nothing,” Sam finished with a laugh. “There’s a lot of old wives tales that some authors like to spin.”

Your smile tightened. “Information for another time.”

“Yeah,” he said, stepping back when you rose to put your jacket on. “Maybe take some Tylenol for your head,” he suggested. “I put our numbers in your phone.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, sliding your phone into your bag. “I’m gonna go sleep this headache off and, uh, I’ll text, or something. Or you can text. I’m -” You sighed, dropping your shoulders. “I’m gonna go…”

Dean didn’t follow as Sam led you to the front door, which opened up to a set of stone steps directly onto the street. You recognized where you were as soon as you stepped out, and you turned to look back at Sam, realizing you hadn’t thanked them for saving you.

“Listen, I wanna -” Pausing, you clung to your bag, and he waited, giving you time to answer. “Thank you for saving me. I… I know I’d probably be dead or worse right now if -” The words trailed off, and you sighed, shaking your head. “Thank you.”

He watched you for a moment, then he smiled gently, bowing his head for a brief second. “Go get some rest,” he urged. “We’ll talk soon.”

It took all of twelve hours for your curiosity to get the better of you, and while a part of you thought there might be something otherworldly drawing you towards the brothers, you didn’t decline when Dean asked if you wanted to spend the evening with them. You weren’t sure what to expect when you returned to their strange underground home, so when you arrived to find they’d cooked dinner for you, you were pleasantly surprised.

The whole evening was bewildering. Just being around them put you at ease, and they answered every single one of your questions without hesitation, holding nothing back. They told you about their lives, before and after their turning, spinning one wild tale after another, with each brother often correcting the other when they didn’t recall things the same. You listened to everything they said, enjoying their company more as the evening progressed, eventually dozing off on their couch before they decided it was probably time you went home to your bed.

You returned the next night. When you had to go to work, you lamented not being able to see them, resorting to text messages that had you smiling to yourself behind the till. At the end of your Monday night shift, they appeared just as you were leaving, insistent on walking you home. They did the same the next morning, and the next, and it began to feel like a physical torment to separate yourself from them. Your next weekend off, you barely bothered to return home, finding better rest in their presence than you might have ever had in your life.

Every day, their belief that you were theirs seemed a little more true. You’d never been great at keeping relationships with people going, spending most of your time alone or in online communities. It had always been hard to form long lasting connections, something you’d always put down to your introverted nature, but with the brothers, it was like they drew out a person you’d never been before. They made you feel something new, something you didn’t want to let go of.

It was only natural when the relationship moved beyond just talk within a few weeks. You had stayed the night, or rather, the day after work, sharing a bed with both the brothers, and had woken up sandwiched between them. Vampires did sleep, albeit lightly, and they were surprisingly warm, though Sam had explained that they were only as warm as their surroundings. When Dean had stirred, face to face with you, the impulse to kiss him was too strong to ignore, and when he responded, it had escalated. Sam woke only seconds after, and soon you were dizzy and breathless from their attention.

As much as you wanted to take it further, you had to get to work. The whole night, you were antsy, glancing at the clock every five minutes and cursing the slowness of time. When the brothers arrived shortly before the end of your shift, you couldn’t keep the smile off of your face, even when Hugo teased you about it. Dean and Sam both waited patiently for you to finish up, ready to walk you home, but you stopped them just outside the diner, looking between them nervously.

“I don’t wanna go home,” you whispered shyly. “At least… not my home.”

They smirked at each other, and then Dean gestured down the sidewalk to a large black classic car. “Good thing I brought the car tonight,” he chuckled.

“Meet Dean’s pride and joy,” Sam sighed. “He’s talked about it enough.”

“Her,” Dean corrected. “Don’t bad mouth my Baby, Sammy.”

The car didn’t seem entirely practical, even if the leather upholstery was comfortable. You sat in the middle of the back, clutching the edge of the seat as Dean fired up the engine, obviously showing off just a little. “Humor him,” Sam laughed, and you gave a quick thumbs up of approval.

It was a quick drive back to their apartment, and you got more nervous the closer you got. If they noticed your apprehension, they didn’t draw attention to it, at least, not until you were inside, hovering anxiously in the lounge. Sam approached first, taking your hand to kiss your knuckles.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured, running his hand along your arm up to your shoulder before stopping to cradle your cheek. You leaned into it, smiling as you met his gaze.

“It’s… I’m out of practice,” you admitted, covering his hand with your own. “And there’s two of you. And you’re vampires. Makes me… nervous.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “We only bite if you ask nicely,” he joked.

The ferocity of your body’s reaction to that thought took you off guard. Arousal pounded between your thighs, and you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, unable to tear your gaze off of his. “I want it,” you whispered, moving closer to him. He groaned, leaning down to kiss you.

“Getting started without me?” Dean muttered in a good natured tone as he entered the room, loitering in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest.

You broke away from Sam sheepishly, and he stepped away, tugging you towards his brother. You followed, feeling your heart pound as they led you into the bedroom. Dean took Sam’s place and kissed you, guiding you down onto the bed. “I’m a little lost on the logistics,” you confessed quietly. “I’ve never - not with two -” You could feel a babble coming on, so you shut your mouth, hoping your inexperience wasn’t a problem.

Dean’s thumb swiped across your cheek before his fingers curled under your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes. “That’s pretty much the dealer's choice,” he murmured. “You being the dealer, darlin’.”

“Oh.” You inhaled sharply as Sam moved to sit on your other side. “I don’t - I don’t know.”

“Being naked is a good start,” Dean suggested lewdly, stripping his shirt over his head. For a second, you could only stare at his bare chest, feeling your mouth getting dry as your core started to throb. On your other side, Sam was now shirtless too, and you felt a little self-conscious in the low bedroom light.

Sam moved so quickly, you didn’t realize he’d done anything until the light went off and the dim lamps came on. You inhaled sharply, steeling yourself before unbuttoning your shirt, sliding it off shyly. As if sensing your apprehension, Dean pulled you into a kiss as Sam tugged your shirt off the rest of the way and tossed it, immediately putting his mouth on your bare shoulder.

“D-do we need anything?” you gasped as Dean’s fingers explored underneath your bra, pulling down the cups until he could thumb at your nipples. “Condoms?”

With a low chuckle, Sam shook his head. “No need,” he promised softly, letting his hand drop to the fastening of your pants.

You nodded listlessly, moving when Dean snapped the fastening on your bra to get rid of it entirely. He pushed you backwards until you were laying across the bed, laying beside you while Sam dragged your pants down your legs, leaving you in only your panties. They went next, sliding off under nimble fingers that returned to pry your knees apart, and you gasped when Sam’s lips brushed against your sensitive inner thigh. Before you could make a sound, Dean kissed you, thrusting his tongue against yours as his brother’s mouth descended on your cunt.

All your earlier nerves were all but obliterated, and when Dean turned his attention to your breasts, you could only just about remember to breathe. He sucked one hard nipple between his lips, and you thread your fingers through his short hair, moaning as Sam’s tongue teased your clit. It was deliriously pleasurable, but you wanted more, managing to whimper as Dean lifted his head to look at you. “Bite me,” you begged, watching the edges of his eyes begin to darken as his fangs descended.

He glanced at Sam, who only shrugged, intent on keeping up the torment on your clit. Your hips rocked against his touch, tightening your fingers in Dean’s hair.

“Please,” you whispered desperately.

Lowering his head again, he ran his tongue around your hardened peak, then lower, pressing his mouth to the swell of your breasts. There was a tiny prick of pain as his fangs pierced your skin, but the first slight pull on your blood had your eyes rolling back. Sam groaned as you shuddered, shifting to press two fingers against your entrance, sinking them in without stopping his assault on your clit.

You came within seconds, crying out with your fingers in Dean’s hair, writhing desperately as Sam pushed you higher. Dean groaned as he stopped feeding from you, dragging his tongue over the wound before lifting his head to crush his mouth against yours, cutting off your cries. The taste of your own blood invaded your mouth, startlingly not unpleasant, and when you nipped at Dean’s lip, he pulled back in surprise, a smile spreading across his lips.

Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment as Sam kept nuzzling into you, using his tongue in slow strokes right through your swollen lips. The bed shifted when Dean got up to remove the rest of his clothing, and when it dipped under his weight, you opened your eyes to his glorious nudity, and new desire pooled in your belly.

“C’mere,” he beckoned, moving up the bed to sit at the headboard. Lust drove your movements as Sam withdrew, and you heard him shedding his pants behind you as you crawled towards Dean, stopping short of straddling him as his cock caught your attention. His head thudded against the headboard when you dipped to lick at him, moaning when you wrapped your fingers around the shaft and squeezed.

The bed moved by your feet, and you glanced back to see Sam, now as naked as you and Dean. You couldn’t resist wiggling your rear in his direction, only for him to grab at it with one meaty hand, holding you in place as he positioned himself behind you. Dean’s cock twitched in your hand, and you turned your attention back to him, using your tongue to circle his tip while Sam ground his length against your bare cunt. You responded by pressing back into him, eager for him to fill you, but he resisted, continuing to tease you as you teased Dean.

Dean’s fingers tickled along the side of your head, encouraging you to take him into your mouth. He moaned decadently, and Sam chose that moment to thumb the tip of his generous cock into you, penetrating just enough for you to feel the stretch around his girth. You tried to focus, emitting muffled little whimpers as Sam rocked back and forth, filling you a little more at a time.

“Come on, Sammy,” Dean groaned, tightening his hold on your head. “Stop teasing her and give her what she wants.”

The other brother laughed under his breath, then thrust forward, burying every inch inside you. You felt like the air was punched from your lungs, so you lifted your head, keeping hold of Dean with one hand while you caught your breath, gasping loudly as pleasure buzzed outwards from where Sam was throbbing deep in your cunt. “Oh god,” you whined. “Fuck.”

It felt different than any other lover you’d had before. Maybe it was because Sam wasn’t quite as warm as you; the only warmth his skin held was what he leeched from you and the air around him. He was definitely bigger, thicker, pushing the limits of what you felt you could take.

Seconds ticked by, and Dean’s hips jerked slightly, reminding you of what you had been doing. Giving him a shy grin, you dragged your tongue up his length, then slid your lips over him; Sam started to move with shallow thrusts, holding your hips in place with ease. You lost yourself in both of them, moaning around Dean’s cock when Sam started to fuck you harder, and when a hand slipped underneath you, long fingers easily finding your clit, you responded by taking Dean deeper.

You’d never been so aroused in your life. Sucking cock had always been a favor, but somehow with them, you felt a desperate need to please, growing wetter with every impact of Sam’s hips against yours, with every twitch of Dean’s dick in your mouth. Your first climax shuddered through you, and they kept going, pushing you higher until you were almost dizzy with pleasure.

Sam’s enthusiasm grew when he felt your cunt squeeze him; he dragged you away from Dean and upright, holding you with one hand loosely around your throat. You gasped, looking at Dean as he watched, one hand wrapped around his dick, eyes heavy and hungry. 

“You want me to bite you too?” Sam grunted, right against your ear. All you could do was nod eagerly, still trembling from the orgasm he’d fucked you through. He growled, slamming into you harder until you were crying out, and with one last powerful thrust, he came, sinking his fangs into your throat as he filled you. Your eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, a low whimper falling from your lips when fresh pleasure blossomed in your gut.

He didn’t take too much, releasing you gently when he was done, and you dropped onto your hands, gasping as he withdrew. You couldn’t think through the flood of bliss in your veins, so when Dean pulled you towards him, you went willingly, straddling him as he lined up and tugged you down onto his cock. One hand held you down, full to the brim again, and the other cupped your breast, guiding your nipple to his mouth.

Instinct made you grind down onto him, and he growled, fucking up into you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, throwing your head back as he filled you over and over, riding the wave of ecstasy until you were trembling from head to toe. He didn’t stop until he was spilling into you, abandoning your breast to kiss you again. When he stilled, you felt like you were floating, and your whole body shook as you reluctantly lifted yourself off.

You landed on your back, gasping for breath as you came down from the high they’d driven you to. “Is it too soon to say I’m falling head over heels?” you laughed, feeling them press in close on either side of you.

“You know,” Dean mumbled against your bare shoulder, “when you’re like us, this will feel a million times more intense.”

You should have been perturbed at how comfortable you were with the idea of being like them when he mentioned it; you’d figured that eternity was their end game early on, but you had never imagined your own easy acceptance of it. The more you thought about it, the more you wanted it, and that alone should have frightened you. “It does?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Mmhmm,” Sam hummed, one hand sliding over your hip. “Everything’s more intense.”

By the time you pulled yourself away from their bed that evening, you’d all but decided you were done with the mortal coil. The brothers had been right about where you belonged, and more than that, you wanted it. Forever didn’t sound so scary if you got to spend it with them.

You felt like you were floating as you walked to work, replaying moments with them over and over, smiling to yourself. Hugo was the first to comment when you made it through the door at The Midnight Diner, but you were in too good a mood to let it bother you. Even folding napkins couldn’t dampen your spirit.

Usually, you would pride yourself on your ability to read a customer. You could tell if someone was trouble, yet when he first walked in, nervously requesting a coffee to go, you didn’t pick up on the weird vibes he was giving you. With a smile on your face, you prepared his drink and rang him up on the till, only to realize he’d covered his face, and he was now holding a gun. You threw your hands up, and another customer noticed the exchange, screeching when she saw the gun.

The man instantly turned his weapon to her. “No!” you cried, getting his attention back on you. “You want money, right?”

“Empty the drawer,” he snapped, fingers shaking on the pistol.

You hit the button, opening the till drawer, pulling out everything in there. He grabbed for it, needing only one hand, and it was obvious he was unhappy. “T-that’s everything,” you stuttered, feeling sweat bead on your forehead.

“You’re lying,” he growled, pocketing the seventy-five bucks. “You gotta have more.”

“It’s emptied every day,” you shrieked when he thrust the gun closer, finger on the trigger.

“Hey!” Hugo’s voice made you turn your head to where he was standing with his own weapon brandished. The man twitched, and time seemed to slow to a near-stop.

The sound of a gunshot made you jump, and you stared at the man in the balaclava as his jaw went slack, gaze dropping to the blood slowly soaking through your shirt. You looked down, moving one hand to press at the wound to your stomach, vaguely registering the gunman’s departure as your knees grew weak. “Shit,” you whispered, crumbling to the ground.

Hugo was beside you in an instant, uselessly padding the wound with napkins as he yelled for someone to call an ambulance. You stared at the ceiling, tasting blood on your tongue, wondering why it didn’t hurt more, and you drifted, struggling to keep your eyes open as the chef begged you to stay with him.

The paramedics arrived in what felt like a blink. They asked questions, and you tried to pay attention, but all you could think about was that maybe you should have said yes to Sam and Dean while you could. It felt like the end, your end, at the hands of a stranger with a gun, on the faded linoleum tiles of The Midnight Diner.

Somewhere, you registered the concern of the medics attending to you. They chattered quickly, mentioning blood loss, words that sounded important but held no meaning to you. “My phone,” you choked out, tasting more blood as you tried to move, and then the pain kicked in. “Sam -”

One of the paramedics pressed against your shoulder, keeping you flat. “You need me to call somebody, hon?”

All you could manage was a nod. Everything was getting dim, becoming too hard to focus, so you closed your eyes, letting the sounds fade too. For a moment, the world was still, and quiet, peaceful. Something beckoned to you to let go, like a tug on your soul, and for a moment, you thought about how easy it would be.

A soft beeping infiltrated the darkness. Heaviness filled you, and you realized it was your own body weighing you down. The cold floor you’d been on was gone, replaced by softness, and with a low groan, you opened your eyes to see a strange woman in a white coat standing over you. She smiled sadly, and you felt the whisper of a touch on your arm.

“She’s awake,” she murmured, looking away from you, prompting you to follow her line of sight with a turn of your head.

Sam and Dean were standing in the shadows of the small room. You felt a sweeping relief when you saw them, even if the expressions on their faces matched the same sadness the woman seemed to have. She spoke your name softly, making you look back at her, and you knew that whatever she had to say wasn’t good.

“I’m Doctor Freely. Do you remember what happened?” she asked.

The man in the diner. The gun. You remembered it all. “I was shot,” you rasped, feeling moisture in your eyes.

She nodded. “The bullet did a lot of damage,” she explained hesitantly. “We’ve tried to repair it but it hit your liver.” You frowned at her, and her smile became sympathetic, the pity in her words palpable. “We did everything we could. Your only hope is a transplant but -” The implication was clear as she trailed off, and you clenched your jaw, tears clinging to your lashes.

You were going to die.

“We’re doing everything we can to make you comfortable,” she whispered, obvious distress on her face, though you imagined you were not the first person she’d ever told they were going to die.

“How long?” you asked, throat clogging with emotion.

“Hours,” she replied. “Maybe days.”

You nodded, blinking away tears as you turned your head away and closed your eyes. The doctor sighed, glancing at Sam and Dean before retreating without another word, and before the door could click shut, they were at your side. “We shoulda been there,” Dean murmured, leaning over to kiss your forehead.

“You didn’t know,” you replied in a shaky voice, though you couldn’t open your eyes for fear that the tears would overwhelm you. The pain of your injury was beginning to push through the numb, heavy feeling; everything about your body felt wrong, which you guessed should be unsurprising if you were that badly hurt. “I don’t -” You swallowed, finally forcing yourself to look at them, and your fear was proved right when fat tears rolled down your cheeks. “I don’t wanna die.”

Sam’s hand cupped your jaw. You looked up at him as he wiped your tears away with his thumb, smiling at you softly. “I know you wanted to wait,” he murmured, “but I don’t think that’s an option anymore.”

“W-will it work?” you asked. “You said that sometimes -”

He cut you off by shaking his head. “You’re strong enough,” he assured you. “You fought your way back to us once already.”

Dean’s voice was low when he spoke, drawing your gaze to him. “Your heart stopped in the diner,” he explained, taking hold of your hand. You could see the moisture in his eyes, so you gripped his hand back, ignoring the discomfort of the IV underneath your skin. “If we do this, we don’t have much time.”

Hours, you thought to yourself. Before all this, you’d been planning for weeks, months, and now, the choice had been taken away. You were surprised you didn’t feel more grief for the life you were leaving behind. “Who’s gonna -” Kill me, you finished in a thought, knowing they would understand.

“We agreed it should be Sam,” Dean replied, sharing a look with his brother. 

You nodded. “What happens next?”

They had already told you how vampires were made - you had to drink their blood and then, essentially, die. “Your heart will stop and the venom will change you,” Sam explained softly. “You’ll be out for around twelve hours. And then you’ll wake up.”

“We’ll make sure we’re there,” Dean added, still clinging to your hand. “We won’t leave you.”

“And then everyone will assume I’m dead, right? I can’t -” You sighed, shaking your head. “I can’t ever see anyone I know again.”

Sam smiled sadly. “They’ll think you died from your injuries. We can get your stuff from your apartment, and then we’ll figure out what to do next.”

The pain was getting stronger. Your chest hurt, and breathing was making your whole body ache. “It hurts,” you murmured. The machines registering your heart rate started to beep faster, and the brothers looked up in alarm. “I don’t -”

Yanking the plug from the wall, Dean silenced the alarm before it could start. “Now, Sam,” he ordered. “We can’t wait.” He released your hand, moving towards the door to keep a look out as Sam cradled your face again, leaning in to kiss you softly.

“Don’t be frightened,” he soothed as you gasped for breath, nodding your consent. Your eyes filled with fresh tears as he bit into his wrist, sending crimson trickling over his pale skin, and when he offered the wound to you, you didn’t hesitate. His blood was cold, dribbling sluggishly into your throat until you couldn’t swallow anymore, and he pulled away, wiping away the stray droplets from your lips.

Just like in the diner, your vision began to gray and blur. Sam reached over to plug the machine back in, and instantly the monitors went wild. Dean opened the door, yelling for help, and Sam stepped back as medical staff flooded the room. Your eyes fluttered shut, and everything stopped as the machines let out one last long steady bleat.

One Week Later…

There was a vacant table in The Midnight Diner. In the middle, pushed up against the wall, was the last employee photo you had ever taken, surrounded by flowers and little notes from the regulars and other staff. You had read every single one as you stood on the other side of the road, giving one last goodbye to the life you were leaving behind. Dean and Sam had been sleeping when you left them, but they’d find you easily enough.

You’d never realized the need they felt for you was so deep, at least not until you’d woken up with the same insatiable pull, though it felt like something you couldn’t adequately put words to. It was a stronger sensation than anything you’d felt in your human life, giving you a deeper understanding of why they’d been so drawn to you.

“There you are,” Dean murmured, appearing in the shadows beside you. You smiled at him, then looked back at the diner, sighing softly as Sam appeared on your other side. “Are you ready?”

“I think so,” you replied, feeling a small measure of sadness for the person you’d been. You wished you could have told the ones who cared about you that you were okay, but it was far easier to disappear this way. There was a funeral with an empty casket to be held tomorrow - you weren’t sticking around for that weirdness.

They had closure, both with your burial, and the arrest of the man who had been responsible for shooting you. Dean had suggested finding him yourselves and dealing with it, but you didn’t feel any need for revenge when you’d been headed for this future one way or another.

Sam’s hand slipped into yours, dragging you out of your thoughts. “Where do you wanna go first?” he asked.

Your smile grew. “Anywhere,” you whispered, looking at him, then Dean, taking his hand too. “As long as it’s with you.”

THANK YOU FOR READING, PLEASE CONSIDER REBLOGGING SO OTHERS CAN ENJOY IT 😁

[ninii-winchester]

Unveiled Sorrows (Part 6)

Pairings : Dean Winchester X Reader, Sam Winchester X Reader (platonic), Dean Winchester X Lisa Braden (mentioned)

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings : angst, so much angst grab your tissues pls, spoilers s1-s6, violence, language, mentions of Djinn. Sam has his soul.

A/n : This series follows canon plot line but some scenes might happen differently or be completely changed. Check the warnings for each part before continuing.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

Sam had been acting strange for the past two days and it wasn't sitting right with Y/n or Bobby. He was anxious, paranoid and jumpy. He acted like someone was out to get to him. And then suddenly Y/n started acting strange too. It was as if the two of them had been going crazy, which scared Bobby and Samuel. Truth is, someone was actually after the two.

"Bobby I swear there was a werewolf in the yard." Y/n panicked holding Adeline to her chest.

"Have you gone mad? Werewolves appear on full moon and at night. It's the middle of the day." Bobby replied throwing his hands in the air.

"Sammy cmon you have to believe me." She turned to her best friend. Sam stood still with his arms crossed against his chest. A knock on the door was heard and Y/n jumped in her place clutching Adeline even more firmly. Sam went to see and came back with Samuel, Christian trailing behind him.

"Anything?" Bobby asked Samuel.

"You two ever run into a Djinn?" Christian asked Sam and Y/n. Sam raised his brow at the question.

"Yeah, a few years back. He took Dean, we had to kill it." Y/n replied flatly.

"It's Djinns that are after you two. Didn't know why they were but now it makes sense. They're here for revenge." Samuel told them.

"Wait what?" Y/n asked. "Why haven't they attacked out front."

"It's easier. The things you two are seeing aren't real. It's them messing around with your heads. And soon enough you two will go insane and kill yourself." Samuel explained.

"What?" The two exclaimed.

"Well luckily for you, we have found an antidote." Christian said showing them a syringe filled with white liquid. "But we have to kill them before they come for you again."

"I'll have it first. Can't be too sure until we've tried." Sam says looking at his grandfather.

"Sammy no." Y/n stopped him.

"Y/n, respectfully. Shut up." Sam replied and then nodded towards Christian who injected him with the liquid.

"Do you feel anything Sam?" Bobby asked.

Suddenly, y/n screamed. Bobby immediately took Adeline from her arms as she backed up against the wall. her breathing laboured as she saw Azaezel in front of her. Her eyes widened, she knew it wasn't real and it was the Djinns doing but she couldn't help but choke as 'Azaezel' grabbed her by her neck. She felt herself being thrown towards a heap of books. The men watched as she was slammed against the window, the glass shattered with loud noise, she groaned at the impact.

"We can't wait Sam, she'll kill herself." Samuel said getting worried.

Sam nodded and Christian went to tranquillise her but she resisted, Sam grabbed her tightly and Christian stabbed y/n with the needle, injecting the liquid and right then she stopped moving completely. A few seconds later she opened her eyes and Sam sighed in relief. The two looked at each other when realisation dawned upon them.

"DEAN."

Dean hadn’t slept well since the night he saw her. She was plaguing his mind whether he was awake or asleep. Every time he would close his eyes he'd see her face, hear her voice. Now it's gotten to the point where he sees her when he's awake. It's like he's hallucinating. Then the appearance of the claw marks all over the neighbourhood. He assumed she might be here to hunt whatever is out here but he hasn't heard of a single death in the area. Not even a missing person's report.

He ought to check. He went to the garage of the house he shares with Lisa. He opened the trunk of the Impala and grabbed his gun. He felt a presence behind him and felt someone throwing him against the garage wall. He watched as Azaezel walked closer to him. Blood trickled down Dean's forehead.

"This isn't possible, i killed you. I shot you with the Colt." Dean said.

"Did you Dean? You might have but you didn't succeed. You can't ever do anything right Dean. You let Sam die. You couldn't save him. Your precious Y/n oh i wonder how she's doing." Dean growled as he heard him say her name. Azaezel grabbed Dean and bashed his head against the wall. The next thing he knew, everything thing went black.

When Dean came back to consciousness, he blinked slowly trying to adjust his eyes to the lighting. He gasped when he saw Sam sitting in front of me.

"Sam?" Dean asked sitting up.

"Yeah it's me." Sam said cutting his arm with a silver knife, showing Dean that he's in-fact Sam. Dean stood up and pulled Sam in a tight hug. "I expected a lot more scepticism." Sam joked as he hugged him back.

"How?" Dean questioned looking at Sam, still not believing he's here.

"I don't know." Sam shrugged. "I've researched for weeks i have no clue how i am back."

"Weeks? How long have you been back?"

"Almost a year, now!"

"You've been back for a year and you didn't come to me? What are you doing here now?" Dean snapped.

"Dean I wanted you to be happy and i knew you were happy here so I didn't bother you. You've always wanted all this." Sam replied.

"I only wanted my brother, alive." Dean replied pacing the room. "What have you been doing all this time?"

"Hunting!"

"With other people?"

"They're...more like family." Sam replied. "Look, I didn't want to come here but I had to, the things you were seeing weren't real. It was the Djinns, they came after us and I knew it was a matter of time they came after you." Sam explained.

"Us?" Dean questioned.

"Y/n and I." Sam replied. Dean stayed silent.

"So she's your only family now? You've been hunting with her?" Dean said with an edge to his voice.

"No Dean, y/n doesn't hunt and I'm not talking about her."

"Don't lie to me Sam, I saw her a few days back, heard her talking about a Vampire hunt."

"That was the only hunt she went on over the past year." Sam replied.

"Where've you been living? Bet its with this family of yours?"

"You might want to come with me."

Sam took Dean to the place where Samuel and the Campbell's lived. Gemma, Will, Gwen, Christian and Mark introduced themselves to Dean. He recognised Gemma and Will from the bar.

"Campbells as in..." Dean trailed off looking at Sam, not mentioning the fact that's met Will and Gemma.

"Mom's relatives." Sam confirmed.

"Dean." A voice called out and he turned to see his grandfather who was supposed to be dead. He looked like he had seen a ghost which is ironic considering he hunted them.

"Samuel?" Dean said walking towards him. The older man pulled his grandson in his embrace. Dean's face showed pure confusion.

"Whatever pulled Sam up, pulled me down as well. Who or why, we don't know." Samuel told Dean. And the latter nodded in understanding.

The group of hunters was now discussing their plan of action to defeat the Djinns. Dean clearly stated that he has no intention of coming back to the business, he just wants to keep Lisa and Ben. Speaking of,

"Lisa and Ben!" Dean exclaimed. "Sam you have to take me home, those Djinns know where I live, they could harm them." Sam nodded in understanding and took Dean back to his house.

Dean rushed the house and called out for Lisa. When he got no answer he grew anxious, he ran all over the house trying to find them. The front door opened and Lisa and Ben walked in. Dean immediately pulled them in his embrace sighing in relief.

Sam's jaw clenched as he watched Dean place a kiss on their heads. The way he was caring for Lisa and her kid like his own, oblivious to the fact that he has a biological daughter who deserves the same affection and love from her father.

"We need to get them out of here and somewhere safe." Dean said looking at Sam.

"Yeah we'll get them to-"

"Bobby's." Dean interrupted Sam.

"Dean, I don't think that's a good idea. We'll get them to Samuel's."

"Sam no offence but I don't trust anyone else except you and Bobby. And we're going to Bobby's, that's final." Dean stated leaving no room for argument.

It was a rare occurrence when Y/n was happy, like genuinely happy and today was one of those days. She's been trying for while to get Adeline to sit up on her own without any back support or falling back. And today the little baby sat on her own for a few seconda before plopping back on heap of pillows behind her.

"Bobby did you see that?" Y/  asked excitedly, a huge smile gracing her lips. The old man nodded, his expressions mirroring her own. "I can't wait for Sam to come home and see this. He's going to be ecstatic." She smiled.

Y/n thought had she asked for something else she would've gotten because the moment she said that, she heard the sound of Sam's car's horn thrice. He always did that, it was their secret code of sorts. Y/n picked up Adeline from where she was laying and excitedly made her way towards the front door, she heard the car door slam shut more than once indicating Sam brought company.

"See baby Uncle Sammy is hom-" She opened the door and her words got stuck inside as saw the company Sam brought.

Her gaze moved from Sam to Dean and then stopped on Lisa and Ben. None of them spoke a word. Dean's eyes dropped to the little baby in Y/n's arms and his heart dropped to the deepest pit of his stomach. He felt like couldn't breath. The baby looked like an exact copy of him.

"You promised, Winchester." Y/n's gaze turned to Sam who at least looked apologetic but she felt betrayed. She moved her arm behind her back and retrieved her gun from the back of her jeans.

"Y/n look i can explain.." Sam stuttered and she turn the safety off, of the gun. "Wait you can't shoot, Adeline's ears are sensitive." Sam said holding his hands in the air.

Sam's words broke Dean out of his trance, Adeline's ears. Adeline. Adeline. Adeline. It kept ringing in his ears when it clicked. Thats she name she told him at the bar.

"That's why I have a silencer on my gun." And with she shot Sam in the arm. He groaned as the bullet pierced him. Lisa and Ben flinched and Dean rushed to his brother's side still not believing she actually shot him. "I wish I had it in me to put a bullet in your head." She told Sam before turning her attention to the other two people.

"Hi Lisa. How've you been?" She said.  "Hey Ben, remember me?" She smiled at the boy.

"I'm good." Lisa said even more shaken up at this point.

"You're y/n. You saved me from that monster." Ben said happily.

"I sure did." She wrapped her other arm which was not holding Adeline around Ben's shoulder. "You've grown, kiddo." She told him bringing him inside, Lisa followed behind.

Dean helped Sam inside as all of them settled into the main room. Bobby looked at Dean and froze but then jumped into action as he saw Sam's profusely bleeding arm.

"What happened to him?" He asked Dean and Dean eyed Y/n. His gaze again settled on the child in her arms.

"Uh I had it coming." Sam groaned as Bobby cleaned his wound and patched him up.

An awkward silence fell into the room as nobody knew what to say. And Y/n took it upon herself to break the tension.

"I'm assuming we were right about the Djinn? Him going after Dean." She asked and Sam nodded.

"Yeah i barely reached there in time." He grunted sitting in the desk chair. "We had to bring them to somewhere safe and this is safest place we know." Sam looked at Y/n hoping she'd understand why he brought them here. He added 'we' hoping she'd know it wasn't his decision.

"Alright, since we've got no leads on the Djinns at the moment its safe to say you'll be here for a while." Y/n said to Lisa. "I think we've got enough rooms."

Bobby told the group he'd get Lisa and Ben to help settle in and show them to their room, he felt like the tension in the air would suffocate him to death so he opted out. Y/n cradled the little girl who was on the verge of falling asleep. She made her way to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of beer with some painkillers. Dean couldn't keep his eyes off of her or the baby. He followed her every moment and watched as she handed the pills and beer to Sam.

"I'm glad you know you had it coming." She patted his good arm. He chuckled shaking his head. "I'll arrange some food." Y/n said leaving the room. She laid Adeline in the crib in her room and made her way into the kitchen.

Sam avoided looking at Dean and the older Winchester was shooting glares at his brother. Dean was angry, sad, disappointed and heartbroken. He finds out that his brother has been alive for a whole year and he apparently has a daughter too. He couldn't take it any longer and rushed out the back door to clear his head. Sam followed behind him.

"Dean wait." He called out.

"She's mine, isn't she?" Dean stopped and turned to face Sam who looked away. "Dammit Sam answer me."

"Yeah." Sam replied.

"And you've known all this time?"

"I did but-"

"But what Sammy?" Dean yelled. "What could you possibly say to make it better? My brother who I thought was dead has been here the whole time, and now i find that I have a daughter, who I had no idea existed until this day?" Tears were pooling in Dean's eyes and he didn't care at this point.

"I told you Dean I didn't want to ruin what you have. And as for Addy," Sam sighed. "I didn't even know it happened between you two. Y/n said it happened once and it was mistake."

"She said what?" Dean recoiled. "It wasn't a mistake and it certainly didn't happen only once." He growled, now his grief turning into anger.

"What?" Sam exclaimed.

"Why didn't you tell me Sam? I could've had what I so desperately wanted." Dean cried, hurt that his brother kept such a huge secret from him.

"She made me promise not to tell you." Sam confessed.

"Why?"

"I don't know, when I came back she asked her if I met you and I told her I did see you but you were with Lisa and I didn't want to ruin that. When she told me she was pregnant and it's yours I told her to tell you but she told me that you deserve to have a normal life with the woman you love and not some...." Sam paused not whether to continue or not.

"Some what Sam?"

"Some good lay and..a child made out of it." Sam whispered lowly, he wasn't even sure if Dean heard him. This broke Dean's heart and he wasn't sure if he could ever piece it back together.

"That woman is a not some good lay, she's the love of my life, Sam. I was pathetically in love with her. I still am." Dean said with his head in his hands.

"You told her the world doesn't revolves around her."

"I know what I said, damn it. I just wanted her to be safe. I knew she wouldn't have left had I not told her all that. I thought if our plan was to fail, at-least she'd be away from all this. She'd be safe. And if it went well, I would go back to her, tell her everything and keep her safe with me until my last breath. But you made me promise. I kept my promise and I left and I never looked back." Dean breathed heavily.

"Dean... I had no idea. I am so sorry. I wish I hadn't... God this is all my fault, I have to make this right." Sam blamed himself and that's the last thing Dean wanted.

"It's not your fault Sam. You just wanted to die in peace." Dean made a failed attempt to ease the tension.

Y/n was in the kitchen when she heard someone clear their throat. She turned to see Lisa standing in the doorway.

"I hope Ben like sandwiches, I don't know much cooking." She said as she placed the ingredients on the counter.

"He likes them.." Lisa said joining to help her with the preparations.

"I can see why he loves you." Y/n said as she watched Lisa work effortlessly and still look amazing.

"Yeah but he's in love with you." She replied without looking at her.

"Rubbish." Y/n waved her off with her hand. "I think you're still tired from the long drive."

"It's the truth. I've lived with Dean for a year now, you're his waking thought and his dream." Lisa said softly. "I think i know more about you than you know yourself." The woman added with a smile.

"Don't you love him?" Y/n bit her lip. Her asking this question was showing a sign that she still cared about Dean as much as she shouldn't.

"He's a dear friend." Lisa replied vaguely. Loud footsteps were heard as Ben entered the kitchen looking for his mom.

Sam and Dean came back inside and Dean locked eyes with y/n for the first time since he came here. He wants to hate her for keeping his daughter a secret from him but one look at her and he's a puddle, willing to do anything she wants him to do.

"We need to talk." Dean said to y/n.

"I believe there is nothing to talk." Y/n replied without wavering.

"Its your choice, you talk to me while I'm asking nicely or I drag you out, because we're talking either way." Dean said keeping eye contact.

"You watch how you speak to me, Winchester. My gun still has five bullets." She replied. She knew she had to have this conversation at any point in her life, she was hoping she had more time. She let out a loud sigh before speaking, "Ben, honey can you go up and watch Adeline for me?" She asked the eleven year old boy. And he nodded happily running upstairs.

"Now you talk." Y/n ordered Dean, who turned around and walked to the main room. She rolled her eyes and followed him. "I don't have time for your bullshit so if you could get on with it before Adeline wakes up, I'd appreciate it." She snapped as he kept his back to her.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He turned to her, his face red.

"Tell you what?"

"About our daughter! Don't act dumb."

"She's my daughter." Y/n sneered. Sam and Lisa watched from the side. "Why do you even care? You didn't care a year ago."

"I.. how can you even say that. She's my daughter too. You had no right to keep her from me."

"Yeah right." Y/n scoffed. "What did you want to me do, Dean? After you pushed me away time and time again. Did you expect me to get on my knees and beg you to stay?" She said raising her voice. "You left. You left when I needed you the most." She felt a lump forming in her throat and she knew the waterworks were on the way. "You left me at the cemetery without a word. How do you think it made me feel?"

"I'm sorry i left, had you told me about Adeline I would've never..-"

"I don't need your pity, Dean. Nor does my daughter." She yelled. "You had a choice. And you left." She felt a tear drop down her cheek as much as she hated to cry in-front of him she couldn't hold it in.

At that moment Dean hated himself. He never knew he could be this weak. He watched Y/n look so broken, exhausted. It was as if sadness has etched itself on her face permanently.

"Cas told me I was pregnant when we got back from Carthage." Dean's eyes widened as the revelation. "That's why I asked to sit out when you guys decided to hit the road. I thought I'd tell you when you'd come back. But when you did you said awful things to me, Dean. It broke my heart." She gasped taking in a deep breath as cried. "I knew it was a hard time for us with everything happening. When I arrived at Detroit I thought maybe, just maybe things could be different but..." She didn't continue, everyone knows what happened in Detroit.

"I'm sorry, you have to believe me when I say I would've stayed.." Dean's eyes watered.

"Sorry doesn't cut it, Dean. I was scared, every night I was scared for my daughter's life because I didn't have the luxury to sleep peacefully and pretend that's nothing out there. Even the rustling of leaves would wake me up at night." She cried.

"I wish i could turn back time, i would do it a heartbeat. You know that." He cried. He knows he doesn't have the right to feel bad about himself but he couldn't help it.

"I'd do it too. If i could turn back time I'd do it and never associate myself with you."

"You don't mean that." Dean whispered, his voice almost begging her to take it back.

"I do." She looked him in the eye, even though her vision was blurred. "Even for a second if we forget that Addy exists, you left me when I needed you the most. My best friend jumped into the pit and I felt like my heart had been ripped out from my chest." She was now full on sobbing. "I needed you. I knew nobody could've understood what I felt except you. I dug the ground with my hands until my fingers bled hoping the cage was still there and Sam would come out." She cried holding her hand to her heart as if it pained her physically. "I just wanted you to hold me tell me it'd be alright. We'll figure something out like we always do."

If anyone of them wasn't crying before they were now. They hadn't realised she'd been through so much pain. She's suffered and she was carrying a child. She held on for so long. Lisa's heart ached for the sobbing woman in front of her.

"Y/n." Sam spoke having enough. He needs to clear this out. He can't watch them fight knowing it wasn't any of their fault but his'. "It's my fault."

"Sammy." Dean warned sternly.

"No Dean. It was my fault. Let me do this." Sam replied.

"What do you mean?" Y/n asked looking at Sam.

"After you left I asked Dean to promise that he won't find you. I told him to go live with Lisa." Sam stated.

"Why would you even say that?" She whispered.

"Because i knew if you two had been with each other you'd just find a way to bring me back. Even worse make deals with demons or shit." Sam said holding his head down. "It wasn't his fault y/n, if I'd known he loved you i would've never asked him to leave."

"Dean doesn't love anyone but you." Y/n scoffed and that irked Dean. He could listen to her say the worst things about him but doubting his love for her wasn't something he'd take queitly. He took a few steps towards her and grabbed her arm making her look at him.

"Why're you talking about me as if I'm not here? And how dare you say that?" He growled. "How dare you say I don't love you. You're the only woman I've ever been in love with." He said pulling her closer.

"Some way you've got to show it." She scoffed pulling her arm away. "Alright I agree Sam was in the wrong but you don't get to put the blame on him completely. You took the easy way out."

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" Dean asked, his face contorted in anger.

"Oh please, don't be so naive now." She gritted her teeth. "You're acting like you didn't have a choice."

"I didn't..- " Dean started but she interrupted him.

"You were Michael's vessel Dean, you were destined to be a part of that war. You fought tooth and nail, you told the literal angels to shove it up their ass, that you'd never say yes. YOU FOUGHT DESTINY AND YOU'RE SAYING YOU DIDN’T HAVE A CHOICE?" She yelled having enough of his excuses.

Dean knew she was right. There was nothing she said that wasn't true. But he had been scared. Whoever he gets close to gets hurt. He never wanted any of this to happen. If only he had manned up and told everyone how he felt, alot this could've been avoided.

Y/n felt betrayed. Not only by Dean but Sam as well. All her life the only people she considered her family, betrayed her in every way possible. She wondered has she been naive or they were just too good at using people? If Dean loved her as much as he said he did, then why didn't he stay. Heavy footsteps and loud cries filled y/n's ears.

"Y/n, she woke up and started crying." Ben said carrying little Adeline to her mother.

"Thank you for looking after her, sweetheart." She said wiping her tears and taking her baby into her arms. Adeline stopped crying once she was in her mother's arms.

"Are you okay?" Ben asked, oblivious to the tension in the room, standing beside his mother.

"I'm okay." She replied. "Just realised I spent my whole life loving and caring for the Winchesters only to be betrayed by them." She whispered lowly that only the adults could comprehend. She held Adeline up and looked at her face. "I'll have to wait for yours too, it's only a matter of time you do. After all you're a Winchester too." She smiled sadly, breaking Sam and Dean's heart along with her own.

Tags:

@spnfamily-j2 @galway-girlatwork @deangirl96 @queensilber

@s0urw00lf @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @deans-baby-momma @fullbelieverheart @hobby27

[destielsoulmatebang]

I Swear, I Thought I Dreamed 'Her'

Dean lives in a world with soulmates. Not everyone has them, but those who do are marked with blue smudges on their skin where their soulmate touches them first. His father thinks they're a curse after losing his soulmate, and since gaining his own mark, Dean has hidden it. He's always been fascinated with the idea of his soulmate, but with a life on the road, he doesn't know where to start looking. Dreams of a mystery man start plaguing Dean, on occasion, and he always wonders if they're important. After making a demon deal to save his brother's life, the dreams become more vivid, and he races to find who his soulmate is before his year is up. He finds Jimmy Novak, a married man who looks like the man from his dreams, and he begins to give up. After he dies, though, when he's brought back for some reason or other, his soul mark is replaced with a scarred handprint on his shoulder. Now, he finds out his soulmate is an angel, and he has to figure out where to go from here.

Rating: Mature Tags: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, John Winchester, Bad Parent John Winchester, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Dean Winchester is Saved, Dean Winchester Needs a Hug, Parental Bobby Singer, Angel Castiel, Canonical Character Death, Major Character Undeath, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Protective Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Has Eldest Daughter Syndrome

Coming October 14, brought to you by the @destielsoulmatebang. @nexus-my-beloved, and @witchy-worm!

[dr3comebackera]

"When forever was a sentence, sentence to death Oh, when you were a running tear, I was a drop of sweat And the edges of your soul, I haven't seen yet Now I'm glad I get forever to see where you end" forever - noah kahan

(1) Dan Istitene (2) (left) Peter Fox // (right) Andy Hone (3) @SkySportsF1 (4) Reuters (Photographer Unknown) (5) Charles Coates (6) Mark Thompson (7) Mark Thompson (8) Dean Mouhtaropoulos (9) (left) Peter Fox // (right) Reuters (Photographer Unknown) (10) @daniel3.jpg (11) Motorsport Images

[ladylilithprime]

Day 4: Birthday

SAM WINCHESTER WAS just about to turn twenty-four when he was abducted by a Prince of Hell and thrown into a death tournament which he did not survive because he refused to kill another psychic human kid like him. He was just turned twenty-five the day his brother's deal to bring him back from the dead came due and Dean was dragged to Hell by the hellhounds. His twenty-sixth birthday was the last thing on his mind the day he went to kill Lilith to stop the Apocalypse only to learn too late that her death was the Final Seal to break and ensure that Lucifer walked free. And he was only just twenty-seven when his love for Dean helped him wrench control of his body back from a Fallen Archangel and drop them both into the Cage to be sealed away again, Michael and Adam dragged along for the ride when the eldest Archangel tried to stop him.

Sam's reckoning of his birthday got a lot more fuzzy after that point, what with his soul trapped down in the Cage while his body wandered around for a year and a half without him. Dean had once confessed to a similar disorientation regarding his own age, particularly the question of whether or not to count the four months spent dead verses the forty years his soul spent in Hell. He hadn't felt much like celebrating what should have been his thirtieth birthday in the middle of the Apocalypse, and neither of them had paid much attention to birthdays in the years since then.

So it was a bit of a jolt when Dean came up to Sam and clapped him on the shoulder, saying, "Well, Sammy, the big three-oh! What'cha wanna do for it?"

"I don't," Sam said after a moment of floundering as he scrambled to identify what his brother was even talking about. "We didn't celebrate your thirtieth, so why bother with mine?"

"C'mon, Sammy," Dean almost whines, looking supremely uncomfortable. "I wasn't in a good place that time, you know that."

"Well I haven't been in a good place on my birthday for over five years now," Sam pointed out, just barely restraining the urge to snap. He saw the moment Dean, thinking back, actually remembered what had been happening on or around Sam's birthdays for the last several years. "Yeah. There's a lot of anniversaries sharing the date that I don't feel like celebrating."

Dean had backed off after that, for which Sam was grateful. He didn't think he could have actually admitted to Dean's face that one of the reasons he didn't feel like celebrating was because he couldn't see a point in celebrating the birth of Lucifer's Vessel, Azazel's favorite, the demon-blooded abomination he had once tried to convince his young parents not to even conceive.

HE SHOULD HAVE known that wouldn't be the end of it.

"Okay, so the actual day has some bad memories attached that make it awkward for you to celebrate on, I get that," Dean said when he ambushed Sam in the library of the Bunker, startling Sam and causing Castiel to look up curiously. "So what if we pick a date, like, two weeks after that without any of those negative associations and make that your new birthday to celebrate?"

"Dean," Sam groaned in protest, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I really don't care enough to celebrate at all, regardless of the date!"

"Are birthdays something important in your culture to celebrate?" Castiel asked, frowning in confusion when Dean said "yes" at the same time that Sam said "no".

"It's complicated, Cas," Sam sighed, ever the more patient one with explaining human things to their angel friend. "Birthdays and birthday parties mostly tend to be focused on young children or the elderly, marking another year surviving to reach adulthood or into advanced age. Many people also use it as an excuse to solicit gifts from others, or even just an excuse to have cake and ice cream."

"Wow, cynical much?" Dean grumbled, holding up his hands when Sam glared at him. "But see, that's kinda my point. I know we didn't celebrate my thirtieth, but it's not like hunters tend to live very long once they start hunting!"

"Hunters also tend to be less inclined to celebrate their birthdays with more than a shot or six at a bar," Sam pointed out with a roll of his eyes. "Not my idea of a good time."

"Would you prefer cake and ice cream?" Castiel asked with a curious tilt of his head.

"I'd prefer not to even bother," Sam muttered. When Castiel continued to look at him expectantly, he sighed and said, "Look, whether by accident or design on the part of any number of beings, my birthday just... really isn't a good day, and the surrounding days aren't much better. Too many 'end of the world' situations cropping up on or around it, and even when we were kids about the only person who bothered marking it was Dean. I don't know why he's so eager to celebrate this year, especially after practically snapping at me to ignore his own, but I'd just as soon not."

"I see," Castiel said in a measured tone that immediately put Sam on edge. Before he could say anything or even pray for Castiel to stop, the angel said evenly, "You do not believe that your existence is worth celebrating."

Sam got up from the table, ignoring Castiel's penetrating gaze and Dean's stricken one, and left the library.

IT WAS CASTIEL who found him hiding in his room later. The angel who was most used to bypassing thresholds to fly directly into whichever room the person he sought might inhabit showed a marked restraint and consideration for personal privacy and boundaries by knocking lightly on the door and waiting for Sam's mumbled "come in" before nudging it open enough to enter. "Hey, Cas."

"Sam," Castiel returned, coming to a stop just inside the door, as if unsure of how far he should enter the room. "I apologize if I misspoke earlier."

"You didn't," Sam sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I mean, I kinda wish you hadn't said it in front of Dean, but it is what it is and it's not like you were wrong."

"Much like Dean, you do not wish to burden your brother with the pain you carry inside yourself," Castiel murmured. "Sam... are you so resistent to celebrating your birth and continued existence because Dean has refused to celebrate his own?"

"That's... part of it," Sam acknowledged. He didn't really want to get into all the reasons he felt that celebrating his birthday was a worthless and frankly inappropriate endeavor, not with Castiel and not when he knew the number of birthdays he even had left to him once the Trials were complete would be numbered zero. That was definitely a conversation he wasn't ready to have, though, so he refocused. "I mean, celebrating my birthday while ignoring his? That's like some weird double standard of favoritism, and I don't want to encourage that crap."

"I see," Castiel hummed thoughtfully. "Sam? What is the significance to turning thirty years old?"

"Not much," Sam answered with a half-shrug. "It's a decade marker, a big round number that makes it slightly more significant to reach than just counting one year after another. Thirty, forty, fifty... it's more of a minor milestone than anything else, at least until around sixty-five or so."

"Then perhaps Dean would accept a compromise," Castiel suggested. "Dean will be turning forty in five years and eight months. If he will agree to allow you to celebrate that day, perhape you might agree to allow him to celebrate your fortieth birthday when it comes to pass?"

It was so like Castiel to try and find a compromise for them like this, and Sam didn't have the heart to admit to the angel why he knew it wouldn't happen.

"Sure, Cas," he said instead. "If Dean'll let me make a big fuss for him on his fortieth birthday, I'll let him celebrate however he wants for mine."

"May I inform Dean of the suggestion and your agreement?" Castiel asked, and left Sam's room when Sam nodded, presumably to go find Dean. Oh, well. Hopefully Castiel wouldn't be too disappointed when Sam didn't make it to summer.

THE GRANITE STONE bore the name "Dean Campbell" and the inscription "There'll be peace when you are done," along with Dean Winchester's birth year and only the most recent date of death. It had been very tempting to put down every single date that Dean had died in a column marching down the stone, but that would have raised too many eyebrows in the public cemetery. As it was, the plot was small and held a ceramic urn with the salted ashes left behind after the hunter's funeral Dean had been given. The other side of the stone remained blank, a stark testament to the fact that the space beside Dean remained unoccupied by a matching urn and with no sure plan of when it would be filled.

Sam slowly let out the breath in his lungs and crouched down before the headstone, absently clearing away a few weeds that were trying to grow up over the base. He didn't speak; there was nothing left to say that hadn't been said in a barn surrounded by beheaded bodies. No point, either, since he knew there was no one listening... no one he wanted to hear him.

With a hand that only shook a little, Sam set an empty shot glass in front of the engraved words and filled it with cheap whiskey from an old metal flask. A matching shot glass was lifted and filled, and then Sam set aside the flask and clinked his shot glass against the one waiting.

Happy birthday to me, he thought with a sad, wistful little smile. He picked up the other shot glass and poured it out over the grass where he knew the urn was buried as he downed his own shot, closing his eyes against the burn that was more from tears than alcohol.

"Sam," a soft voice called from behind him. Sam stiffened and twisted around, wondering who the hell would approach him in a cemetery and say his name like that--

His breath caught.

The vessel was different. Whether that was because the body of Jimmy Novak had been taken directly from Earth by the Empty or some other reason, it was not that familiar face and frame standing before him. Not even that stupid tan overcoat remained after that. The dark hair was similar, as were the blue eyes, but everything else was different. Softer and thinner and more like that one vessel he remebered being described from a trip back in time. And yet Sam couldn't help but recognize Castiel in the woman standing there, from the strong posture and curiously tilted head to the faint shadow of wings hovering behind her shoulders.

"Dean wishes for me to apologize for him that he cannot be here to celebrate with you," the angel said softly, reaching out a hand and helping Sam to his feet when he took it automatically. "He hopes that I will make an acceptable substitute and birthday gift." A pause, and then, awkwardly, Castiel added, "I was given a bow to put in my hair if you wish."

Sam snorted, helplessly, and then with the dam broken he dissolved into helpless laughter and pulled Castiel into a tight hug. Not the brother who had promised to celebrate with him, but the angel who had made that promise happen. Substitute, no, but gift? He'd take it.

And he swore he would keep this gift for as long as he could.

[dotthings]

I have some thoughts about Cas after seeing Misha’s comment on why Cas wasn’t in TW so let me put these bullet points here:

* Many Cas fans latched onto “Cas helped” like it was the only rope thrown to us in a sea of Cas erasure because that’s what it was. If I’d had to believe for the past four years that Cas was trapped in The Empty I would have gone out of my mind and I was already out of my mind due to the various fails of the series finale. Not judging since I get the appeal of a rescue arc but did people really want Cas helpless in The Empty, limp, asleep, trapped in his own regrets for the past four years of realtime (also that’s not canonically how Cas went to The Empty, I’ll get to that). It sounds miserable

* Nobody said “Cas helped” was adequate, ftr. We said it was an info dump and it was the last ditch attempt to give us something after the covid regs/CW Network butchered the finale story and Misha’s part was cut. An info dump isn’t the best way to tell a story but is sometimes a necessity in TV storytelling because of external circumstances

* Cas had earned better from the story and pretty much all the Cas lane all knew it. I was bitter about it. But also it’s what was available as a clue to Cas’s fate. We had Bobby’s line and Dean’s smile as a lantern in the darkness

* If Cas was intended to still be in The Empty why in the og version was he at the bar with Dean if the intent was for him to be trapped in The Empty

* No shade at Misha. Just thinking it through. CMP doesn’t retcon. CMP fills in the blanks and recontextualizes

* one of the great things about 15.18 was Cas’s self actualization story and that when The Empty took him he was fulfilled. Not empty. Cas saved himself—The Empty would have no power over him beyond trying to whisk him away. That is canon. Cas’s self actualization also means something to many Cas fans. The inadequacies of 15.20 don’t make the messaging and implications of 15.18 (and the story leading up to it) less worthwhile and people are still allowed to find Cas’s story meaningful. Even if we’re relieved and happy a follow up is seemingly on the way finally

* The rescue is a great story idea, Misha was maybe just speculating at CCS, or wanted to make fans happy, but I’m not dismissing that perhaps it’s a hint about some revival plans and I feel all tingly

* It doesn’t have to be incompatible with Cas saves himself. Perhaps Cas redesigns Heaven from The Empty

* Reminder that Cas is a cosmically fearsome really stubborn self-realized BAMF who was taken fulfilled and can cancel out possibly even destroy or absorb and transform The Empty’s…energy. Reminder Cas and Rowena were paralleled characters, Rowena wound up as ruler of Hell, while Cas ———-abandoned to a question mark but gee what could it be *looks at Rowena*

* Let me float this scenario. Dean goes to save Cas…and finds Cas sitting on The Empty’s throne, having taken over and reformed the place. Dean’s just staring poleaxed with happiness to find Cas and because he expected Cas to be asleep. Cas, calmly, “Hello, Dean”

*I know some people have speculated about this already. And with whatever insight and power he gained maybe he could have redone Heaven remotely. Maybe Cas at the bar is after the “rescue” — maybe he needs Dean’s help to exit The Empty even if Cas overpowered it. Who wants to clown with me about Cas King of The Empty *honk honk*

* There’s also the question of missing time and pov for Dean between the moment of his death and his arrival in Heaven and what if Cas guided Dean’s soul—lost and confused—somehow but sticking a pin in that for now

Anyway it seems very very likely we are getting a follow up to 15.18 and Cas’s story that finally gives him his full due.

*HONK HONK*

And hearthands for Misha and Jensen both watching over Cas the way they did. Misha realized a cameo wasn’t adequate, Jensen agreed, wholeheartedly, Cas deserved a full follow up not just a cameo with no explanations or deeper story, we knew this already actually but it’s good having Misha on video summarizing it. (It’s possibly due to Harvey Dent that Misha only had time to do a cameo, btw. Not because no one thought Cas should have more screentime).

[dontlikeconflict]

“I’m the one who will have to watch you murder the world”

It’s so quiet, it’s always quiet now. The town surrounding Castiel was filled with vacant buildings, abandoned homes, and so many items scattered showing the hasty way that the people had to flee (if they were lucky enough to get away). Cas missed when there was noise everywhere, when there were cars, and children playing, when he could walk in a crowd and not be seen as the angel of death. The one who tells them to flee, the one who stands in wait.

It had become like a sick game over the years. Dean moved, ravaging everything in sight, and Cas did all he could to stay one step ahead. To herd people away, to warn them that he was coming. And then he does what he’s doing now, he waits for Dean. Tries to plan what he could possibly say or do. There have been times when it felt like he was close, when he got through to him even for a moment, but those moments always passed. Most recently when they had fought, there was a moment when he held Dean firm, angled towards the body of a woman that he had effortlessly cut away from this world, and made him look. Forced his eyes to her blonde hair, and her pale skin, and spoke in his ear of those he loved who could have easily been this woman: Jo, Mary, Jessica. Cas spoke their names like a prayer, hoping they would embed themselves deep in Dean’s skin, deeper than the mark could reach. Hoping the blood seeping into this dead girl's hair wasn't for nothing.

 But it was. 

The number of dead only continued to rise, and the shining light of Dean Winchester's soul only continued to darken. And all Cas could do was try, do as he had always done and follow Dean, to the very end. 

“Just you and me again Cas?” Dean didn't try to hide, or sneak as he approached, they both knew Cas couldn't kill him (he had tried before) “Where's the rest of the party?”

“Dean.” Despite himself, he felt warm. Every time he got to set eyes on his friend without fresh blood on his hands, felt like a blessing. With everyone they had loved long gone, all they had was each other, for better or for worse. 

“Still doing this cat and mouse bit? I move and you scurry?” his face was blank, no smile, no frown; like he was a god - or devil - forced to speak to an ant. 

Some part of Cas could never stop seeing his Dean, troubled since he was a child but still always the brightest light in any room, at least to Cas. His soul was so full of love, the prime motivator for all his actions, leading him to pain over and over again. Cas could still see that soul, twisted and deformed by the mark, like thick scars, covering almost every surface. But still, there was always the memory of fresh skin, of the very thing that willed the wounds to heal. That was what was left of Dean’s once bright soul, scar tissue, desperately trying to recreate what was there before. 

“What if I said no?” it was said before he had a chance to pull it back. A thought that had lingered in his mind for so long, one so tempting. No matter what he did, The Mark continued to push, murdering everything it could, consuming infinitely. Nothing could stop it, Castiel could not stop it. Effort, hope, love, none of these things could defeat The Mark. None of these things could bring Dean back from the hell he had created. And Cas knew even if the mark disappeared, the selfless man he knew, the righteous man, would never be able to deal with what he had done, how many he had taken from this world, the cries and begs that he met with the horrible wet thud of the first blade as it sunk into flesh, not sharp enough to fully slice, but not blunt enough to just bruise. 

Dean didn't respond to the vague statement, just stared at Cas, just as angry and hollow as that day all those years ago, when the angel had warned him of this very moment. The horror that Dean had forced him to watch. Looking into those eyes, Cas knew it was time.

“We’ve been through much together, you and I” It was hard not to tear up as he tried to think of all the things he wanted to say “It may be selfish of me but I do not regret saving you”

Dean still stared, his eyes still cold. Cas thought maybe that was for the best.

“Knowing you has changed me, I am the person I am, because of you”

Cas allowed his blade to fall from his sleeve into his hand, Dean’s eyes fall on it, before looking back to his face. 

“And even though you are no longer the Dean Winchester I once knew, I still consider you my family. The only family I have left, as I know I am yours”

Cas stepped forward, slowly, blade in hand until the two were less than a meter apart.

“You saved the world many times over Dean, maybe it is fitting that you are the one to end it. Maybe since you saved me, it too is fitting…” 

Cas flips the blade, holding the handle out to Dean 

“That you end me too.”

They look at each other for an age, Cas’ eyes tearful, Deans hollow. A million lifetimes worth of connection between them, whether it is wanted or not.

It's slow as Dean’s hands reach up to take the blade, not a mad rush of bloodlust, but the natural conclusion to their story. An ending that was always there on the horizon, inevitable and all-encompassing. Castiel always knew he would die for Dean Winchester. 

When the blade sinks into his heart, he knows it is final, God has abandoned them and there is no one to bring him back. Dean's hands come up to lower his dying body to the ground, but his eyes are still dark. All scar tissue, nothing left.

AO3