#I just think after years of torture Dean deserves to get **** *******

[paunchsalazar]

purgatory sandwich…

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Hope

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader, Crowley & Winchester!reader (platonic)

Requested by anonymous

Synopsis: (very very loosely) set during 5x10 when Sam and Dean get killed and go to heaven (doesn’t follow cannon really)

Crowley took in the room before him, a pit opening up in his gut at the gruesome scene. Sam and Dean were splayed out on their respective beds, chests gaping open from near-identical bullet wounds. And then there was you.

The brothers’ young sister was sitting on the floor between the two beds, the demon-summoning ingredients in front of her. She was shaking from head to foot and her eyes were red-rimmed and wild with desperation. Her eyes met Crowley’s, and he nearly staggered back just seeing the haunted terror residing there.

“Darling…” Crowley’s voice was quiet, apologetic.

“You have to bring them back,” you whimpered. “Please.”

“I…I can’t,” he sighed. “Just because I’m king doesn’t mean I can just reanimate whoever I want. Not without…” Crowley stopped suddenly, but it was too late. Your eyes lit up with realization. “No,” Crowley said, but you were already nodding.

“I’ll do it,” you said. “You can have my soul, just bring them back!”

“It’s not that simple. If the demons find out that I brought their biggest threats back to life…” he was stalling, and you both knew it. He didn’t want your soul in hell, but he would never admit that.

“Please,” you pleaded. “Crowley, I-“ your voice cracked. “Please. I-I can’t live without them.”

Crowley looked from the boys’ dead bodies to you, then back again. You followed his gaze, your eyes settling on Sam first, then Dean.

“It was hunters.” Your lip quivered. “They-they said Sam was evil, and-and he had to be stopped. Then-then Dean recognized them, so they said that…” your voice cracked as tears slid down your cheeks. You took a deep breath before continuing. “They said they had to kill him, too, so that he wouldn’t come after them. De-Dean didn’t even care.” A sob wracked your body, and Crowley had to resist the sudden surprising urge to comfort you. “He didn’t care that they were gonna kill him, he-he just told them over and-and over not to kill me. I guess they thought I couldn’t be much of a threat.” You pulled your knees up to your chest, and your next sentence was so quiet that Crowley had to strain to hear. “I wish they got me, too.”

Crowley had been ready to leave you here, to turn down your deal and walk out and leave you with your brothers’ corpses. He didn’t want to make this deal, he didn’t want Sam and Dean screwing things up for him in hell, and he didn’t want you, just a kid, to give up your soul. You didn’t deserve hell.

But the last thing you said—your wish to die alongside your brothers.

Crowley couldn’t turn away from that.

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

…

Crowley was gone before Sam and Dean opened their eyes. They sat up simultaneously, identical gasps leaving their throats as they breathed again for the first time.

You were off the floor and in their arms before they even knew what was happening.

…

“What happened?” Dean asked after he had gotten his bearings. “We were caught by Zachariah, how did we…” Dean caught sight of the summoning ingredients on the motel floor, and it hit him like a truck. Sam and him hadn’t gotten out by themselves.

“No…” Sam breathed, his gaze following Dean’s. “Y/N, no, tell me you didn’t.”

“Don’t pretend you wouldn’t have done the same,” was your response.

You flinched when Dean slammed his hand against the desk.

“What were you thinking?” He demanded.

“That I wasn’t about to let the two of you die,” you shot back.

“We could’ve gotten out ourselves!” Dean exploded. “The angels need us alive!”

“Yeah, but they would’ve tortured you until you said yes to Michael and Lucifer first!”

“How long did you get?” Sam’s quiet voice interrupted you and Dean’s shouting match. His tone sobered the room.

“A year.” Your voice was no longer strong or defensive. You were scared, and the boys could see it instantly.

“We’re gonna get you out of this,” Dean promised. “You’re not going to hell. I’m gonna call Crowley and—“

“Who do you think I made a deal with?” You sighed. “He may be the king of hell, but there’s only so much he can do. It was dangerous enough for him bringing you guys back as it was.”

“I don’t care,” Dean said. “He helped get you into this, he’s gonna help get you out.”

…

The year passed faster than anyone had anticipated. Crowley never answered when the Winchesters summoned or called, and they hadn’t been able to track him down or summon any other demons either.

You were on your last day, sitting on a motel bed next to your brothers, when he finally made contact.

“Hello, boys. Y/N.”

All three Winchesters nearly jumped out of their skins at the sudden appearance of the king.

“It’s about time, Crowley,” Dean growled. “We’ve been trying to contact you for—“

“Three hundred sixty-four days, twenty-three hours, and twenty-six minutes,” Crowley interrupted. “Y/N’s almost out of time.”

“Exactly,” said Dean. “Now fix your mess.”

“I can’t undo a deal, Squirrel.” Crowley couldn’t meet your eye as he spoke. “There’s nothing I can—“

While his gaze was focused on Dean, he didn’t notice Sam pulling out the demon knife until it was up against his throat.

“Then why are you here?!” Sam demanded.

“I can’t undo the deal,” Crowley said, his hands raised defensively. “Nor can I tell you about the hidden escape hatch out of hell. It would be utter treason for me to accidentally leave Y/N’s cell door in hell open in exactly seventeen hours and twelve minutes, when the guards change. It would be an affront of all I stand for to give you boys this address,” Crowley reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, handing it to Dean while Sam kept the knife on him. “It also wouldn’t be possible for me to tell Y/N to take two lefts and a right, and that the escape hatch is behind the giant rock shaped like a nose—trust me, you’ll see it.”

The trio of siblings was silent for several long seconds as they took in Crowley’s words.

“Why are you doing this?” Dean asked.

“I didn’t want to make this crummy deal in the first place,” Crowley sighed. “But you Winchesters are stubborn, so I made it. Now I’m doing the little I can to un-make it.”

The Winchester brothers began questioning Crowley about the specifics of the plan, but you remained silent. The men seemed to forget your presence until you suddenly interrupted them.

“So I still have to go to hell?”

All eyes turned to you.

“I’m afraid so,” Crowley said, still unable to look you in the eye.

“Dean?” Your pleading voice had your big brother in front of you in an instant. “Does…” your gaze focused on your fidgeting hands, and your voice came out in a tearful whisper. “Does dying hurt?”

Dean’s heart lodged in his throat. He wanted so bad to lie, to tell you that you wouldn’t feel a thing, and that you’d be reunited with your brothers before you knew it. But you didn’t want just assurance, you wanted the truth. You needed someone to trust more than you needed comfort. So he did the last thing he wanted to do; he told you the truth.

“Yeah,” Dean sighed heavily. “Yeah, it’s gonna hurt like crazy.” Dean’s hands found your fidgeting ones, and he held them tightly. “And those seventeen hours are gonna feel like a whole lot longer. And it’s—“ Dean’s voice cracked. “It’s gonna be real dark, and you’re gonna feel like the only person in the universe for a little while. Then the demons are gonna come, and it…it’s gonna be really bad for a while, kid.”

Tears were steaming down both of your cheeks now, but still Dean continued.

“But you just gotta hold on, ok? Hope is the only thing you’re gonna have down there, so you can’t let it go for anything, understand?”

“Ok,” you choked, holding Dean’s hands in a vice grip.

“Ok,” Dean forced a fleeting smile. “Good girl.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You’re gonna be ok, alright?”

You nodded, leaning into your big brother’s touch.

Dean felt you flinch in his arms, and he pulled back to see you glancing around wildly.

“Did you hear that?” You breathed. You glanced up at Sam and jerked back, gasping in surprise.

“Hey, hey,” Dean tried to grab your arms, but you backed away from him, trembling. “What you’re seeing, it’s not real, ok? Y/N, it’s me.”

“I have to go, they can’t see me here.” Crowley was gone before anyone could comment.

“Y/N, it’s Sam.” Sam appeared on your other side. “It’s ok, you’re ok.”

“Baby close your eyes.”

You looked up to see Dean staring down at you.

“Just close your eyes,” he repeated. “It’ll be ok.”

You closed your eyes tightly before the hallucinations started again, your last visual memory being that of your big brothers holding onto you. You felt Dean’s hand squeeze yours, and your breathing turned to hyperventilating when you heard the hellhounds burst through the door.

Your instincts were screaming at you to open your eyes, but Dean seemed to read your mind.

“Keep your eyes closed, sweetheart. We’re right here, we’re not gonna leave you.”

You couldn’t help the terrified gasps that were escaping you, but you listened to your big brother and kept your eyes closed, even as you heard the vicious bark of the hellhounds.

Even as you felt their claws rip into your flesh.

You shrieked in pain, and you struggled to back away from the hounds, to no avail. But you never opened your eyes.

And you never let go of your brothers’ hands.

…

Seventeen hours later, Sam and Dean were waiting at the address that Crowley had given to them. Your body was laid out carefully in the back of the Impala, having been carried there by Dean. Dean told himself over and over again that you weren’t dead; they were just waiting to get your soul back to your body.

“Is there something we should be doing?” Sam asked, glancing around.

“Not according to Crowley,” Dean sighed. “He said as long as her body is here, and she gets through that escape hatch, it should be a done deal.”

The brothers had done what they could for your body; Sam had stitched up your wounds, and Dean had done a homemade blood transfusion using his own blood. They could only hope that your soul returning to your body would somehow help the more internal injuries that they couldn’t fix. Dean insisted that they do this, since Cas wasn’t around to heal your injuries, they didn’t know what state you would be in when you got back to your body.

“So we just sit he—“

Sam’s question was cut off when your body suddenly jerked upright, a deep breath filling your lungs.

“Y/N!” Dean was by your side immediately, Sam coming to stand beside him.

“Dean? Sam?” You were out of the Impala and in your brothers arms before you even finished getting their names out.

“Hey kid,” Dean breathed a sigh of relief as you relaxed completely in his arms. “Miss me already?” He quipped, but his forced easygoing tone dropped at your response.

“It felt so long.” You held Dean tighter and started to cry into his shoulder.

“I know, I know it did sweetheart.” Dean brought his hand up to cradle your head. “I know. You’re safe now, ok? We’re right here.”

“Hey,” Sam pulled you away from Dean and held you at arms length to look at you. “How do you feel?”

You touched the stitches running up your stomach.

“It feels sore, like-like it’s healing.”

“Ok.” Sam sighed in relief. “Ok.” He pulled you into his arms, letting you relax against him.

“Let’s get going,” Dean said. “We don’t need any demons figuring out what happened.”

Dean regretted his words when he saw you tense in Sam’s arms.

“Hey.” Sam noticed too, and he pulled away and brushed your hair away from your face. “We’ve got you, ok? You’re not going back to hell. Ever.”

For the first time in months, a smile found its way onto your face.

“Let’s hope so.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl

[shanastoryteller]

so, you've been posting/reblogging about sam being the exception to the rules of "This is alright to do when everyone else does it/ It's not alright to do but we can do it to sam". Do you have any fanfic recs that throw that hat around? Like, they realize they were actually in the wrong? or some good fix it? some bad break it?

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

honestly not this fandom's strong suit. probably the most self indulgent part of see something say something is having dean accept that sam going to stanford wasn't a personal attack, was something he needed to do for himself, and the no contact trauma of it all was pretty much entirely john's fault. in canon he's literally betrayed by sam going to college until he DIES. he never chills or gives credit to the idea that sam deserved and needed space to grow outside of him

there are a couple "sam dies in the panic room" fics floating around out there, which are pretty good, but relatively short and sort of only deal with the immediate regret that dean feels because his brother is dead and not really because he understands how he fucked up

here are some that sort of qualify, but nothing that quite scratches the id for this in the exact way i'd like. unfortunately i think to really dig into this (for me) you've got to hit "sam was both saved and destroyed by dean's deal" and "dean came back wrong" right over the head before you can really deal with the repercussions of it. which is both hard and sort of an unpopular opinion! so i get it

feel free to drop your own recs if you have them!

Crossed Wires by rivkat (summary: A spnj2xmas gift for costsofregret, who liked angst, pining!Sam, one thinking the other is dead, and hurt/comfort. It’s like you know me.) sort of deals with the concept of sam's autonomy but it's pretty brief.

One Saved Message by ratherastory (summary: After a hunting accident puts Sam out of commission for a couple of days, Dean decides to surprise his brother with a new phone, since his old one is toast. Even better is when he finds that he’s been able to save all of Sam’s old information and restore it to his cell. That’s when he discovers an old voicemail that Sam has kept saved for the last two and a half years… Charity fic for help_japan. sinka won a fic from me and requested some Voicemail fix-it fic, and that is what I have attempted here. Spoilers for all aired episodes up to 6.19.) deals with the voicemail but not really all the actions dean took to make that voicemail believable

Paint Me a Monster by TheMarvelousTolkienJob (summary: Sam is a freak. He knows that and, after everything that happened with Ruby and the demon blood, Dean finally does too. Not that they actually talk about it or anything. No, they wait around for Sam to be kidnapped and tortured before they do that.) is a fic focused on all of this and it addresses the voicemail and the reasons the voicemail was believable but it doesn't end with anything so much resolved as it is at least in the open air. which is a perfectly good ending, i just want closure T_T

The Talking Cure by Mollyamory (Molly) (summary: Dean tries to keep his mouth shut, but as much as he wants to keep quiet, he also wants to say--) set immediately after season 8 with no gadreel. dean feels the need to reiterate what he said in the church

Soft Like a Blue Triceratops by sprinkles888 (summary: Sam finishes the trials, expecting to die. Instead, he gets a life that sounds idyllic - the demons locked away, the angels gone (mostly), and Dean by his side. All he has to worry about is the various monsters attempting to fill the power vacuum; a too-empty bunker; his own deteriorating mental health; Dean’s dive back into alcoholism; and not getting enough sleep (even for him). Oh yeah, and that pesky fact that his dreams are starting to seem a little bit too much like visions. He can handle it. He can. (Sometimes he can’t.) If this is healing, Sam sure doesn’t want to know what deterioration looks like. A season eight finale/post-season 8 AU) is probably the closest i've found that really comes down to grilling both on how messed up the brothers are and how it's taking a toll on sam specifically, but it doesn't really get into the double standards of it all. bold for emphasis is mine, because my god that's really the whole fic. great exploration of them, but it did hurt to read

not at all in the vein of the ask, but by the same author Sounds Like Truth and Feels Like Courage by sprinkles888 (summary: Turns out that the Men of Letters had a way to perform magic on the regular without the messiness of witchcraft. All they need for it is a pair of soulmates, a couple of rings from the bunker, and a willingness to spend time platonically touching. And, well, the Winchesters are already sitting at two out of three… (In which Sam and Dean cuddle, spend time being emotionally vulnerable, mend relationships, learn just how powerful their souls are, find power in memories, watch way too much Netflix, and become targets of an organized group of monsters set on killing them.)) is a comfy warm fic about the boys by the same author that i can reread without hurting my own feelings

[scoobydoodean]

Could you elaborate on why you want season 8 Sam to die? It's been years since I watched that season ahah. I don't doubt that he deserves to, but I cannot remember why.

He saw Kevin be kidnapped and abandoned him to a life of torture without so much as telling his mother or another hunter or even the angels who would have had a stake in saving him.

His flashbacks are unbelievably awkward and boring. I'm supposed to care about the trash disposal he fixed while Dean is doing sexually charged battle scenes with Cas and Benny in Purgatory.

He gets together with a woman who accuses him of hitting a dog on purpose and implies that he's a white supremacist.

He tells Amelia he wants to fight for their relationship, but as soon as her ex husband suggests they should let her choose between them, he leaves her in the middle of the night, then after she's moved on, he comes back just to be a homewrecker.

He keeps saying he's going to leave the life as soon as the business with Kevin and the tablet is concluded and Dean needs to "let him go" (???) but also doesn't want Dean to have any friends besides him and demands Dean cut ties with Benny or else (while Dean is telling Sam to go back to Amelia if that's what he wants).

The entirety of "Citizen Fang", from sending a hunter he knows is mentally unstable to "keep an eye" on Benny to going along with Martin beating Dean over the head and chaining him to a radiator to keep him from interfering with the Benny witch hunt to pretending afterward like HE was the victim because Dean sent him a fake text from his ex to prevent Sam from MURDERING SOMEONE. To taking zero accountability for Martin or Elizabeth.

Dean tells Sam that he is suicidal and Sam insists on doing The Trials based on Dean's suicidality and says that he will survive The Trials and renew Dean's hope in living, then within two episodes he pretends that conversation never happened and basically tries to gaslight Dean for the rest of the season into thinking it didn't happen while also getting furious at Dean whenever he gets the slightest feeling that maybe Dean doesn't believe in him.

When Sam is sick, Dean takes care of him, bringing him food, getting his fever down, etc, and is treated like this makes him a piece of shit who doesn't "trust" Sam enough (????). Sam repeatedly projects feelings onto Dean that Dean doesn't even have and ridicules him for thought crimes.

While being furious that maybe Dean doesn't trust Sam more generally to have his back, Sam ignores that he has done everything possible to destroy Dean's trust, from abandoning him, Cas, and Kevin to die and presenting a deeply unfeeling exterior about it, to promising to survive The Trials then almost immediately telling Dean he's going to die and to get over it. He acts entitled to Dean's trust and on top of it, the expectations are one-sided. He is allowed to distrust Dean all day every day but Dean isn't allowed to distrust him ever.

All of this culminates in Sam "confronting" Dean for trusting other people besides Sam, having friends besides Sam who showed more loyalty and care to Dean than Sam has, and telling Dean he's jealous of his other relationships and all but flat out blaming him for the fact that Sam now wants to commit suicide.

In the aftermath he gets mad that Dean convinced him not to commit suicide by telling Sam that he loves him and it's all okay and he's there for him when Sam was literally blaming Dean for his impending suicide. He claims Dean "made him" make the wrong choice because he is incapable of ever taking accountability for anything.

Basically it's the worst things Sam's ever done dialed up to 11 and it doesn't stop the whole season and he is so thoroughly miserable to watch that he's almost unrecognizable to the point I joke about him being a podperson. Also see: #season 8 sam.

[lavenderleahy]

My husband joined me in my most recent rewatch of supernatural and we finally reached the finale. I refuse to watch it, but he did. Here is his reaction:

Recap didn’t have carry on 0/10

Daily life montage 8/10

Pie fest 5/10

Sam mourning more for Cass than Dean 0/10

Knife murderer that's just some guys 2/10

Still doing FBI gig after 15 years 2/10

Jack resurrected monsters 0/10

Dad's journal lol? 3/10

Weird monster torture porn 1/10

Ninja star setup 9/10

Clown Ambush 2/10

Jenny callback meh/10

Monologue Jenny kill 3/10

Spike through heart 0/10

Dean having to explain to Sam that he's dying -1/10

Dean's goodbye monologue opening 2/10

Dean telling Sam not to bring him back because "you know it always ends bad" -100/10

Dean's monologue closing 6/10

"I did not think this would be the day" yeah me neither/10

"I need you to tell me it's okay" 2/10

Head/hand touch weird/10

Jared crying unintentionally funny/10

Dean's funeral only attended by dog 1/10

Post Dean lonely Sam morning routine 7/10

Dean gets into Heaven 5/10

Bobby telling and not showing 0/10

"It's the Heaven you deserve" barf/10

Cass not stopping by to say hi 0/10

Does Dean's dad also have a copy of Baby or did Dean steal it?

Carry on finally 8/10

Old Sam very funny/10

Thank you to fans 10/10

No Ninja star payoff -9/10

Some notes: He is GA-ish, but he always listens when i pause and tell him about destiel. He doesn't actively ship destiel, but he perceives it. That being said, please don't judge him too harshly for spelling Cas wrong, he doesn’t know better.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Not My Brother

Summary: What happens when two guys looking exactly like you show up in your world yet no one bats an eye except the three of you? A whole lot of confusion. Especially when everyone keeps calling those guys you've never met before your brothers...

Pairing: None (features Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen & Ben/Soldiery Boy)

Word count: 8,600ish

Warnings: language, Soldier Boy's language, mention of torture, spoilers for Supernatural, The Boys & Big Sky

A/N: Here's the triplet fic! I wrote this basically a year ago and finally finished! Told from all 3 guys POV's. Enjoy!

_______

Beau

“I’ll be heading out in five,” I said, turning the corner with my eyes locked down onto a file. And smacking straight into a body. Poppernak bounced back, an apologetic look on his face.

“Sorry, boss.”

“It’s fine Pop. What’s…” I trailed off.

Sat in the two chairs in front of my desk were what appeared to be my fucking twins. One had shorter hair and a days worth of scruff on his jaw while the other’s hair was a tad longer than mine, a beard on display. He was a bit more muscular than the other one, which was saying something since they were both strong. The one with short hair was more of my body type, his green eyes flashing with a flicker of surprise at the sight of me but then nothing more. He shifted in his seat, his flannel shirt riding up in the back. 

Meanwhile the other one looked pissed as all hell, jaw clearly clenched. Unlike the other one in jeans and workboots, the angry one was in a pair of sweatpants and a zip up, his sneakers absolutely filthy.

None of this would have been alarming if not for the fact that I was not a fucking identical triplet.

“Nollins found your brothers fighting again,” said Poppernak as I noticed the little scrapes on their cheeks and knuckles. “We brought ‘em to you per instructions.”

“Right…” I said, Poppernak staring at me. Was I hallucinating or something?

“You want to charge them?” he asked just as Hoyt walked into the doorway with a file in hand. 

“I need a signature…well if it ain’t the Arlen boys,” she grinned, looking at my clones sat in the chairs. “Let me guess, Ben started it.”

“I did not!” said the angry one. The short haired one quickly argued against that, Jenny giving me an apologetic smile.

“I thought Ben and Dean were getting along better lately?” she whispered as she held out a file and pen to me.

“Uh, guess not?” I said, quickly scribbling on the form she wanted me to sign. “I need to deal with this.”

“Night guys! Behave for your brother for once,” she said, giving them a quick wave. Poppernak left behind her, allowing me to shut the door and lock it after them. I closed my eyes and spun around, the two men still sat there. Oh god, I was losing it.

“What the fuck is going on!” I said. Dean and Ben shared a look as I held up a finger. “Ah. I know what’s happening. I’m having a stroke. Oh! I bet I slipped on that damn front step that’s been wet all day. I slipped and hit my head and now I’m dying on the ground somewhere. Huh. That’s sad. I never got to get Emily that motorcycle like I wanted. Is she going to cry at my funeral? Stupid question. Of course she’s going to cry. God, I hope she’s not too upset. Poor baby doesn’t deserve-”

My face was suddenly tingling, Ben standing there with his hand clenched as I cupped my cheek.

“You punched me!” I said, the pain feeling way too much like a real hit. “What kind of near-death hallucination is this!”

“Stop being a fucking pussy and man up. You think I’m happy about losing my powers? You don’t see me being a bitch and crying about it,” said Ben. Dean yanked him back, pointing a finger at him. “You want to go again?”

“Shut up and sit your ass down!” Dean growled. He rolled his eyes, turning to me with a friendly enough smile. “Relax dude. You’re not dying, okay? I have a good idea of what’s going on and if I’m right, me and jackass over here will be out of your hair really soon.” He slapped my arm, dropping his smile when I stared at where he’d touched me. 

These guys were real. Like in the flesh real.

“Before you freak out on me, let’s take this conversation somewhere more private, hm? Maybe not a police station? Okay, Chief?” said Dean.

“I’m the Sheriff,” I mumbled, closing my eyes. 

“It’s just a nickname, buddy. You got a house? Let’s go to your house okay, Sheriff?” I nodded in what felt like slow motion, grabbing my jacket as Dean convinced Ben to come with us. 

If I was going to have a mental breakdown, at least the Dean one seemed nice.

“Where’s my airstreamer!” I said twenty minutes later when I pulled up to where my home should have been. Instead, a large, beautiful wood cabin sat in it’s place, nestled in the trees. “That’s not my house!”

“According to google it is,” said Dean. I glanced to my right, glaring at him as he scrolled through my phone. 

“How did you get that!” I said, trying to snatch it away.

“You tossed it in the cupholder, dumbass,” scoffed Ben from the backseat. “Is this numbnuts house or not, cocksucker?” Dean turned in his seat, his features tight. 

“First off, dickwad, I screw women. Second, there’s nothing wrong with sucking cock, got it?” he rolled his eyes and scrolled the phone more. “We totally would have a homophobic alter ego out there in some universe. We’re just that damn lucky. Even you with your Sheriff job and seemingly normal life, I bet it’s fucked up to a degree huh?”

“Yeah,” I breathed out, Dean humming as he stopped his finger on the phone.

“I’m not homo whatever you called me,” said Ben, leaning forward in his seat. “I know what that means. I don’t care if a dude fucks a dude. You just look the type.”

“That’s still a problem, jackass. People don’t look-”

“Guys,” I said, swallowing thickly. “Can we just agree we shouldn’t judge other people, for anything besides their character and focus on more important things like what the fuck is happening?”

“Yes, Beau, excellent point,” said Dean, slapping my shoulder, giving Ben a glare. “Isn’t it?”

“Sure, whatever,” he said, getting out of the car. Dean slid out too with my phone, leaving me scrambling to put the car in park and follow after. “Oh you’re so a dirty cop to afford this place. I can respect that.”

“I am not a dirty cop!” I snapped, Ben raising his eyebrows as I got in his face.

“Well, well. Maybe our little pussy has a dick after all.” I looked back at Dean, his face in an apologetic smile.

“You can see how we got arrested for getting in a fist fight now, huh?” said Dean. He walked past me, slapping my shoulder before putting a hand on my back, guiding me forward towards the house. “So this isn’t your house, Beau?”

“Like I said, I live in an airstream on this plot of land. There’s an old cabin not too far but my house was right here this morning and now-”

“Fuck!” growled Ben. Dean and I froze, carefully spinning around to watch him fall to the ground on hands and knees. He started to shake, Dean moving fast over to his side. I looked around, this close to going back to my dying theory, when Dean hoisted Ben up, an arm around his body. 

“Beau. Inside. Now.” He was moving fast and I jogged up the few front steps to the porch, opening the door and flipping on a light switch. I blinked, catching a framed picture on the wall. It wasn’t one I recalled taking but I could clearly see why.

There was Ben, Dean and I, arms around each, wearing big smiles on what looked like some sort of camping trip.

“Beau!” shouted Dean, already past me and up the stairs, Ben clinging to him for dear life. “Find us a bathroom now!”

“Right, sorry!” I said, jogging up after them. I skirted around them in a hallway, finding a bathroom in the first bedroom I checked. I whistled as I hit the lightswitch, Dean inside with Ben, sitting him down on the floor before he reached inside the shower and turned it on full blast. “What’s-”

“He’s having a panic attack,” said Dean. I glanced down, Ben shaking hard, his eyes staring at the tile floor but not quite seeing anything. I didn’t even notice Dean leave, quickly back in the bathroom and returning to Ben, slapping a pair of noise-canceling headphones over his ears and wrapping a blanket tightly around him. 

Ben blinked, staring at Dean with tears in his eyes, anger and shame in every feature of his face.

“Go ahead and call me a cocksucker all you want man, but I ain’t leaving your ass until you’re though this, understand me?” Ben nodded once. Dean sat back next to him, sighing deeply. “Sheriff? Maybe you want to go tell your wonderful neighbors to fuck off with the fireworks? I want this guy with us when I tell you guys what’s going on.”

“Yeah, I’ll, uh, I’ll be back in ten.”

“Are you a cop? Or ex-military?” I asked Dean half an hour later. We were sitting on the large sectional in the family room of the home, big enough for more than three grown men to comfortably lay on at once. Ben glanced at Dean from where he sat by himself way down, steadily nursing his glass of bourbon and refilling it.

Dean cleared his throat and shook his head.

“You act like it,” said Ben. He said that with certainty, a twinge of remorse in my gut for not realizing he was suffering from PTSD earlier.

“You must have served,” I said to him, Dean sipping from his cold beer. I drank from my own as Ben closed his eyes. “Like Dean said, I think we’ve all had some bad hands dealt to us. Maybe of our own doing, maybe not. I’m still pretty sure this is a fever dream and isn’t actually real-”

“It’s real,” they both said. 

“How do you know that?” said Dean with a nod at Ben. Ben smirked, slumping back in his seat.

“Where I come from, I was born in 1918. When I was a young man, I signed up for a secret war effort and then injected me with Compound V. It made me a superhero. Superstrength beyond what you two can even comprehend. Invulnerability. I never aged past my mid-forties. I was a war hero. A movie star. Women, men, everyone wanted to get fucked by me or be me. And then my team betrayed me, I was tortured for forty years by the russians, and they stuck nuclear waste down my gullet. But I was so damn tough it didn’t kill me. No, no. It made me powerful. I could fucking explode. Bring down buildings. Turn other supes human. Kill them.” 

Ben knocked back his bourbon and smiled, looking between Dean and I.

“I was born exactly like the two of you. Just a boy. Just a man. And I could do all that before they drugged me up and trapped me back in a box. So if all that was real, then I can believe that life has the ability to throw me into another fucking dimension, or whatever the fuck this is, too.”

My eyes couldn’t have been wider, Ben snickering at me but I couldn’t even try to be mad at him.

He’d been a fucking superhero? A superhero? That was-

“I hunt monsters. And demons and the supernatural and a whole bunch of shit. Even took on the devil and God a few times and won. Technically I died in 2020, even though I did that a bunch too, but I was dead dead last I checked and it was also like 2070 something last I knew and according to the calendar in your office it’s like fifty years earlier so something weird is definitely up,” said Dean.

My head turned slowly to him, eyes still wide, mouth gaping now. 

“Also, other worlds totally exist which what I’m pretty sure is happening. We’re all different versions of the same guy in different universes,” said Dean.

“You hunt monsters? What kind of fucked up world do you live in? At least he’s like superman!” I said, pointing at Ben.

“If superman does hard drugs off a hooker’s ass then sure, I’m like that guy,” chuckled Ben. My head whipped back to him, Dean holding up a hand. “Who died and made you the head of this operation in the first place, Deanne weenie? I'm the oldest. I’m in charge.”

“I spent forty years tortured in hell by demons, grandpa,” growled Dean. “I know what the hell I’m talking about so sit down, shut up, and let me figure out a way to get you back to whatever universe you belong in.”

“I spent forty years getting tortured too, cum guzzler. It don’t make you special,” said Ben, getting to his feet. Dean rose fast, the two of them bumping their chests against each other.

“Wait!” I jumped over the ottoman in the center of the couch, forcing them each to take a step back. I took a deep breath, Ben grabbing my arm to yank me backwards.

“Not now, kiddo. I need to finish what I started with this one,” said Ben. I planted my feet but Ben was strong. Maybe not super strong anymore but still, he pulled me back hard and fast. Fast enough to make me trip and hit my head on the way down.

“Ow!” I gasped, wrapping an arm around my head, slowly getting to my knees. When I opened my eyes, Ben was worriedly staring at me, his hand on my head. “Get off-”

“What is going on?” Ben asked Dean, looking over his shoulder. He was wide eyed when he looked back at me, looking me over. “Why the fuck do I feel bad I just did that? I don’t give a shit about you. I don’t know you. I don’t…”

I looked at Dean, his eyes closing. 

“When Ben had his panic attack-” I said, Ben growling. I ignored him, looking to Dean still. “When he was scared, you went full blown…you were acting like you cared about him.”

“For some reason, when that happened, something clicked,” said Dean, kneeling down on the floor beside Ben and I. He found Ben’s gaze and nodded. “It felt like you were my brother. Even when you pushed Beau just now, I don’t hate you when I easily could. I just…”

“Care that Beau’s okay,” said Ben. He held out a hand, helping me sit up, a gut punching hitting me in the stomach. I swallowed, the same thick swallow they were sharing. “Dean.”

“You’re using my name. Now I’m concerned,” said Dean. Ben groaned but I understood where he was going with this.

“Dean, I think what Ben’s trying to say is…this isn’t your guy’s universe and it’s not mine either. I have one brother and he’s not you guys so wherever the hell we are-”

“We’re brothers here,” said Dean. He closed his eyes. “This is our house too. There’s too many pictures of us in this house, the bedrooms are too different, the garage outside has my muscle car in it I’m pretty sure. Which means we’re in a completely different universe.”

“Or we’re not,” said Ben. Dean opened his mouth to argue but Ben slapped his hand over it. “We could be dead. Or in purgatory.”

“I was already dead and you two weren’t there,” said Dean. “Besides, it’s 2023. I was dead and Ben was in a box? Or some shit. We couldn’t die twice.”

“I wasn’t dead in the box, moron,” sighed Ben. “I was just in a coma kind of. On ice. For probably the next forty years.”

I stood up, needing something for the splitting headache between my ears. I left them to bicker in the family room, something nagging at me that this was familiar. It couldn’t be though, right?

I wandered into the kitchen and swiped some pills from the cabinet, ducking down the hall to a bathroom and tossing a few down.

“Guys?” Loud footsteps approached as I existed, holding up the bottle. “How did I know where this bottle would be? I’ve never been in this house.”

“I’d assume the medicine would be in the kitchen,” said Dean, Ben shrugging. I shook my head, shaking the bottle.

“No. No I always keep my medicine in the bathroom. I always have my whole life. My parents did, I did, my ex-wife. Always in the bathroom. So why did I know to go to the kitchen?” I asked.

“Because that’s where Dean keeps them, isn’t it?” said Ben, crossing his arms.

“I think I know what’s happening,” said Dean, very slowly holding up a hand. “Ben. You and I woke up on that trail, remember?”

“Obviously,” said Ben. “Get to the fucking point.”

“Beau, did anything weird happen today? Did you…did you have an emergency? Did you black out?”

“No. I was at work, pursued a thief, caught them-” Dean grabbed my wrist, his face tight. 

“How did you pursue the thief? Was it dangerous?” 

“It was on a motorcycle. It got a little fast but-”

“I know what happened,” said Dean. He dropped my hand and ran his own over his face, eyes wide. “I don’t know how to fix this. Fuck, I think we’re stuck until we die.”

“Fine with me,” said Ben. 

“What happened?” I asked, crossing my arms. Dean shut his eyes and breathed deeply.

“We are in a world where the three of us are brothers. Triplets obviously. And the reason the three of us care about each other and get flashes of things, like knowing where the pills were, are because we’re remembering lives that aren’t ours.”

“Uh…” Dean swallowed.

“Today Ben and I died. This version. We fell off a cliff while hiking. Ben fell and I tried to catch him but we both went over. And you Beau, you got hurt on that motorcycle. The versions of us from this world, they all died today. But for some reason, we all got put in the wrong damn bodies and now we’re here.”

“That makes zero fucking sense,” said Ben. He held up a finger. “Actually, it’s fucking stupid. It makes more sense that-”

“Nope, Dean’s right,” said a voice behind us. I spun around, a young man in his twenties smiling back with a wave. “Sorry, paperwork mix up. I’ll pop you guys back where you belong.”

“Hold up shortstack,” said Ben, striding over to the young man. “If-”

The man disappeared, Ben and Dean still close by. The familiar nagging feeling was gone but the three of us were still there.

“Jack! It didn’t fucking work!” said Dean.

“It did! You three are exactly where you’re supposed to be. Beau, I shuffled a few things around in your universe so Dean and Ben can stay. Ben wants to and Sam wants you to have a fair shot at life too so he’ll see you when it’s time, okay? Talk to you guys when you die! Bye!”

“The fuck is going on!” shouted Ben.

“This is why God should not be a child,” groaned Dean. “We’re stuck. We’re fucking stuck as brothers. For real now. All because man-child druggie over here wanted to not go back to being in a coma. I was dead and I was ready to go!”

Ben threw a right hook, Dean barely dodging it. He tried throwing another but I caught his bicep, yanking him away from Dean.

“Enough!” I shouted, holding up a hand in front of each of them, keeping them at arms length from one another. “You fucking calm down, Ben. And Dean, cut the guy a break for not wanting to go back to being captured.”

“He’s clearly a piece of shit. You heard him talking before, Beau,” said Dean. “I-”

“I said enough!” Dean’s jaw snapped shut, both of them huffing, giving each other dirty looks. “Ben, go take the bourbon and hang out on the porch, alright?”

He said nothing and went past, not without forcefully bumping Dean’s shoulder. When the front door slammed shut, Dean wiped a hand over his face again. “Really dude?”

“Beau, I get you want to be the nice guy but he doesn’t belong here and neither do I,” said Dean. I skirted past him, stopping in the main hall of the house, looking out the front door to find Ben sitting on the front porch with his head between his knees. “We don’t know Ben. Maybe he deserves to be locked up. Trust me, I’d love to be alive again but I want that with my real brother, not this place. Ben and I aren’t supposed to be here.”

“Actually you are,” said that young man’s voice again. We both looked around, the young man sighing. “Listen, Dean. This is Beau’s world, the Beau in front of you. Maybe I went ahead and switched things up a bit, made you guys all brothers and yes, you can recall memories when needed. Maybe I did fuck up Beau’s world. But there’s a reason for that. All three of you need each other. You-”

“I was at peace Jack. I-”

“You were bored out of your fucking mind in Heaven. Hey, you want to get back in the game? Consider this your audition. Help your new brothers,” said Jack. “Beau?”

I pursed my lips, crossing my arms. “Yes, uh, Jack?”

“You don’t have to be afraid of me. But I don’t pop into your world often. You guys don’t get into as much trouble as say, the world Dean lived in.”

“Excuse me but who’s fault was that?” argued Dean.

“My point being, Beau, is to be yourself. Your ups and downs are as valid as your brother’s. Your monsters just don’t come with claws or lasers,” said Jack. “Now I really, really need to go. Dean, magic doesn’t exist here so yeah, you guys are stuck until you kick it. I promise I will pop you back to Sam when you do, okay? Just try to be there for each other. And maybe get a stiff drink in Beau. He’s pretty sure he’s lost his mind. Be sure to stay away from rebar!”

“Little shit!” shouted Dean. He grumbled but was quickly going to the liquor cart, grabbing a bottle of tequila and shoving it in my hands. “Drink.”

“Was that…God? Is God a kid in his twenties?” I asked, Dean ripipng the cap off, and pressing the bottle to my lips. I swallowed back two shots worth before he let me up for air, patting my back.

“Yes…technically he’s his grandson. God was a major dickhead. Jack’s cool but hands off which means-”

“Which means this is for real,” I finished. Dean knocked back some tequila himself before throwing an arm over my shoulders and leading me outside.

“We stuck?” grumbled Ben.

“Yup,” said Dean, sitting down on a porch seat, leaving me to lean back against the railing, taking another swig from the bottle. “Happy fucking new universe to us.”

“It’s actually pretty nice,” I hiccuped. Ben groaned and drank down a fifth of the bourbon bottle without so much as a flinch. I blinked, staring at him as I felt flashes of a memory. “You were in special ops. You went to rehab twelve years ago for a drug problem but you’ve been clean since,” I said. Ben narrowed his eyes at me, smirking darkly.

“Your wife divorced you and left you for a rich schmuck. Oh, and your kid potentially wants nothing to do with you. Sheriff.” I turned away from him, Dean closing his eyes in his seat.

“Can we all just agree to shut up and drink tonight?” sighed Dean. 

“Agreed,” we both said. No one said a word as we silently passed the bottles between ourselves. 

I knew I’d have a killer headache in the morning but I didn’t care. If I was ever going to have an excuse to get blackout drunk in my forties, this was it. But even as the three of us lay on the porch hours later, everyone too far gone to even move, something tickled the back of my mind.

“We used to have sleepovers on our parents porch,” I mumbled.

“Are our parents nice?” breathed out Ben. I hummed. “Is our dad?” His voice was thick, Dean shifting beside me.

“Don’t worry about it man. Look at Beau. I’m sure his…our parents are really nice people, right Beau?” said Dean.

“Good. I don’t want anymore shitty ass parents,” said Ben. I forced my head to the left, finding his back to me. He was soon snoring, Dean relaxing comfortably close by.

Maybe when I woke up, I’d realize this was all a very intense dream that had never actually happened.

Somehow I knew in my gut though that in the morning when the sun rose, Ben and Dean would be exactly where they slept.

And they weren’t going anywhere.

Dean

I groaned as I sat up. Sleeping on the hard wood of the porch had been a mistake. I noticed a blanket had been tossed over myself, Ben snoring loudly off to my side with his own blanket and hugging a pillow to his chest. 

The smell of coffee hit me and I hummed, wearily following it inside. Beau was in the kitchen, sipping on a cup of nearly white colored coffee and the thought to tease him hit me.

“You like to drink a lot of cream in the mornings do we Beau?” I said before I could help myself. Beau slurped it back, his annoyed smile letting the tightness in my chest relax.

“Only if he bought me dinner first,” he chuckled. “And yes, I like cream in my coffee. Sue me.”

“Leave some for the rest of us is all,” I said. He poured me a cup as I got out the carton, the two of us working around each other like we’d done it a million times. It was only when I sat at the kitchen island did I realize he was freshly showered and dressed, a badge and gun on his hip. “You going to work?”

“Yup,” he said, pouring more coffee in a travel mug. “I don’t get the most time off in the world and I’d rather save my vacation days for…”

Emily. In my head I saw a clear picture of her, a protective instinct towards her I’d only felt towards Sam before. Glancing at Beau though, I sensed it too and somehow, I knew it’d be there for Ben too.

“I’m so jealous of you,” I said. Beau fixed the cap on his mug while he worked on putting together a ham and turkey sandwich. “I mean…”

“You want to be a dad. I know. I feel like we’ve had this conversation before,” said Beau. “I get the feeling my daughter adores you and Ben.”

“The bastard has to have a soft spot somewhere,” I said. I glanced over my shoulder towards the front door, a pang of guilt rushing through my veins. “I can keep an eye on him.”

“I appreciate the gesture but Ben’s a big boy. He makes his own choices,” said Beau, sliding his sandwich into a baggie, tucking it away in a soft sided lunch box. “You guys probably have jobs too you ought to get to. Maybe check your rooms?”

“Good idea,” I said. I quietly watched him finish packing his lunch, Beau rinsing out his mug before placing it in the dishwasher. “I guess we’ll see you later today then.”

“Yeah. It’s friday last I knew so maybe we can order some pizzas, try to get to know each other?” I smiled, a small twinge of jealously in my gut again. “Sounds like a plan. Text if you need something.”

“Sure thing,” I said, watching him gather his things and start to head out. He froze halfway down the hall though, spinning around to look at me. His face was curious and bashful at the same time. 

“When you say you fought monsters, that include demons?” he asked. I nodded, his eyes widening for a moment. “Does…does salt actually keep them away?”

I chuckled, looking him over. I liked Beau more and more. “It’s actually ghosts the salt works on. Demons you need either an enchanted amulet or something like that or an anti-possession warding.” I peeled down my shirt collar, revealing my tattoo. “Doesn’t seem like an issue in this world.”

“I’d rather not know the answer to that,” he said, smiling softly. “Later Dean.”

I nodded, the house quiet for a beat. I trudged upstairs, finding a bedroom that I instinctively knew was mine. It was the room the three of us had crammed in the night before, the memory of Ben shaking on the bathroom floor forcing an unpleasant ache.

Only Sam had ever elicited that ache.

But something about Beau, even Ben…it rushed in my blood, made me hope Beau got to work safely. Made me wish Ben didn’t have to endure that kind of fear. 

“This is what I get for complaining that heaven was too fucking boring,” I mumbled. I opened a closet, eyes darting around for clues when I caught a pair of coveralls with my name stamped on the front. “I’m a mechanic? That tracks.”

My phone on the nightstand rang, an unflattering picture of Beau eating a plate of nachos popping up.

“Hey,” I said, flipping through the closet. “I think I’m a mechanic.”

“Actually it looks like you’re a firefighter. Your work badge is sitting on my passenger seat,” he said. “And uh, you’re probably going to be pissed but your name is Dean Arlen according to it.”

“It’s whatever,” I sighed, resigning myself to that fact I’d be spending the next forty years in this world. At least.

“Any luck on what Ben does?” I slipped out of the room, going to the one across the hall. 

“Nope. I just checked…aw, this must be your daughter’s room. It’s so pretty. Will you be my dad?”

“No, idiot,” he laughed. “I might be oldest but-”

“No offense kiddo but I’m pretty sure I’m oldest,” I said, closing the door and heading down the hall.

“Tell you what? I’ll look up our birth records when I get to work. Loser has to make dinner.”

“You’re on, kid.”

“Asshole,” he mumbled. “I’ll drop your ID off at the firehouse, okay? It’s down the block from the station.”

“Ten four, Sheriff.” Beau sighed and hung up as I pushed open a door, this room neat and tidy, a framed children’s drawing on his dresser. I went to the only other room in the hallway, grimacing when I opened the door.

Ben’s room was a disaster. Clothes everywhere. A pungent smell of old spice in the air. There were beer cans and bottles on nearly every surface. I almost decided to give up and assume Ben didn’t have a job when a slip of paper on a covered desk caught my eye. I slipped inside, frowning at it.

“Guessing this one’s mine,” grumbled a voice behind me. I spun around, Ben walking in with a glass of something gross looking. He took a sip and closed his eyes. “We should get a maid.”

“Or you can clean up after yourself,” I said. He chuckled, his features dark. “Is that beneath you?”

“Listen,” he said, putting the glass down and walking up to me, pressing his chest against mine. I was not a small guy but this one…he had twenty pounds of muscle on me easily. He stared me down, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t know how they do things in your universe but in mine, people do what I say, understand?”

“We’re in Beau’s universe so tough shit. Here, you can be a damn man and clean up after yourself.” Ben leaned in close, smashing his nose against mine, a threat of violence in the air that reminded me of when I had the mark on my arm.

“Give me a reason to snap your neck, boy,” Ben growled. “Unlike that pussy cop, I don’t give two fucks about you or anyone else here.”

My instinct was to snap back, headbutt this asshole into the next century. But...if I couldn’t shake the feeling of giving a shit about these guys then that meant he couldn’t either.

“Then kill me Ben,” I said, raising my chin. “Go ahead. If you really don’t care, do it. I won’t even make it hard for you. Because I’ve died. I know where I’m going. You though? Something tells me you might end up going downstairs and trust me, you won’t like it one bit.”

Ben’s hand shot to my throat, a threat in the air. There was no pressure though, only his heavy pants in the air.

Suddenly it was gone, Ben storming across the room, throwing most of the things from the dresser onto the floor. Glass smashed against the hardwoods, items bouncing against the carpet before coming down with a hard thud. He kept his back to me, breathing heavily.

“I’ll take that as you aren’t going to kill me then,” I said. Ben mumbled something, shoulders shaking slightly. “Listen, you got crap? I get it. I get whatever the hell this is too. But it’s the twenty first century. You can get help and be a fucking man too. I have work. Can you survive on your own?”

“I don’t need a damn babysitter.” With a roll of my eyes, I left, going down to my own bedroom. After a minute, I wash changed into a fresh pair of jeans and had found a t-shirt with a fire emblem on it, one I assumed matched the fire station I worked for. I quickly grabbed a black flannel and a pair of white and dark olive green sneakers out of my closet, whistling to myself.

“You look new,” I said to myself, pleasantly surprised they fit so well. I jogged downstairs and noticed Beau had made up an extra pair of lunches while we were talking earlier, grabbing one and heading for the door.

“Wait.” I had my hand on the handle as heavy footsteps came downstairs, Ben changed into a baseball jersey and pair of tight jogger sweatpants. He slipped on a pair of sneakers in the tray by the door, staring at me. “Alright, let’s go, jackass.”

“I didn’t realize I was your fucking chaufer.”

“I’m drunk,” he growled. I nodded back at the kitchen.

“Beau made you lunch. Might as well take it before I drop you off wherever it is you’re going.”

“I’ll be back before then,” was all he said. Two minutes later we were on the road, driving in dead silence. For the first time I caught Ben smiling as we rode along in Baby, his hand running over the dash. “Ah. See this is a car I could drive. Don’t get me wrong. That cocksucker of a brother we have-”

“Don’t insult him.” Ben’s lips pressed into a thin line. “The man might not have fought monsters like I did or had super powers like you but he’s divorced with a teenage daughter. And he’s a cop, in charge of all the other ones. In charge of this town. The man is kind but don’t underestimate him. He’s got crap too. He’s us, remember?”

Ben crossed his arms and stared out the window for ten minutes until we hit the edge of town. I wasn’t sure where we were going but I let muscle memory guide me, eventually coming up to a small complex of doctor’s offices. Ben didn’t move when I leaned forward, recognizing the name on the sign from the letter on his desk.

“You’re an asshole,” I said. I saw his lip twitch up in the passenger mirror. “Go on before I kick your ass out. I got work.”

“You’re such a bitch,” said Ben, climbing out of the car and heading inside the building without a second glance. I shook my head, driving down the road for a few minutes, passing by Beau’s truck out front of the police station. I let instinct take over, eventually finding a fire station down the block. I found an empty spot out front and parked, inhaling sharply.

“Here goes nothing.”

Work was amazing. I wasn’t just a firefighter. I had seniority. I worked on arson investigations. I got to teach little kids on field trips all about fire safety. It was like tapping into these untouched parts of my brain. The more I let go, the more memories filled in. One’s about work, about Beau and Ben. 

Maybe Sam had a point about forcing me to live a normal life like he’d been able to. I missed the hell out of him but I knew I’d see him again and for him, it wouldn’t be that long. In the meantime, I knew two guys that could do with my help right here.

“Howdy, Sheriff,” I said late in the day as Beau and the pretty female cop my brain told me was named Jenny pulled up to the scene of a small house fire. “We just put out that fire, Beau. What you doin’ bringing more hot things my way?”

Beau’s eyes glared as Jenny laughed, smacking my arm. “Oh, I love you Arlen boys. All of you are such flirts. Except Beau. That some sort of big brother thing?”

It was my turn for my face to fall as Beau threw his arm over my shoulder, giving me a tight squeeze. “It must be. My little brothers are such flirts. Especially the baby, isn’t that right, Dean?”

“By twelve minutes!” I said, dread filling my veins as a memory popped into my head. I so was not the baby brother. I hadn’t spent a lifetime of being Sam’s big brother to suddenly be thrust into baby brother status.

“Enjoy it, kid,” Beau whispered in my ear, slapping my back as he pulled away. “Everything settled here?”

“Space heater caused the fire. Minimal damage. No injuries,” I said, Jenny looking me up and down, a twinkle in her eye. “Jenny, you want to grab a drink after work?”

“I would but I have a hot date with Cassie. Unless you want to join us?” 

“Sorry, Dean’s going to have to take a raincheck. We need a little guy time after the incident yesterday. Plus Dean has oh so graciously offered to make us dinner,” said Beau, narrowing his eyes when Jenny wasn’t looking. 

“Right. How is Ben by the way?” she asked. “I thought rehab stuck this time.”

“It did for the drugs,” I said, my mind filling in a gap it didn’t know existed a split second before. “We’re still working on the drinking.”

“He’s cutting down,” said Beau as I found myself nodding along with him. We shared a concerned look, Jenny polite enough to not say anything.

“Well, I know he’s a big softie deep down. He’s making progress which is something,” she said, clearing her throat. “Beau, I’ll do a quick interview and write up the report.”

“Excuse me, are you volunteering to do paperwork? What demon are you being possessed by?” Beau teased. I stared at Jenny, probably too long, Beau grimacing behind her. “Uh, sure. Need a ride back to the station when you’re through?”

“Dean can give me a lift,” she said, a curious smile on her face. 

“Alright. Dean, I’m ducking to the grocery store. You’re making me pizza tonight,” he said. He waved as he walked away, Jenny crossing her arms and staring after him.

“Your brother is something else,” she said, dipping her tongue out past her lips.

“Oh,” I said as it clicked. “You’re hot for your boss.” She grabbed my arm, quite hard for how small she was, dragging me around to the end of the fire truck. 

“Dean, I told you I don’t know how I feel about Beau. I just…don’t say anything to him. Or Cassie or Ben or anybody, got it?” I held up my hands, Jenny letting out a small exhale.

“Can I ask a personal question?” 

“Careful, Dean,” she said but nodded anyways.

“Why not me? What’s so different about Beau and me?” I asked. She smiled softly, resting her palm on my bicep.

“You’re sweet, Dean. A good friend. You boys are similar in ways but Beau’s friendship…it lifts me up if that makes sense. There’s a light to him that-”

“I understand,” I said, flashes of memories that weren’t my own but were popping into my head. “Beau’s the good brother, Ben’s the bad one and I’m the one that’s known for sleeping around.”

“You’re known for pushing women away when they start getting to close Dean. I know you boys have only been in town a year but I’d guess that’s who you’ve always been. It’s a shame. You’d really make someone happy if you just let yourself.”

Awesome. I was the same guy in this universe, just without a legitimate reason for being alone.

“Thanks, Jenny,” I said when she pursed her lips. “Honestly.”

“Life’s funny. It doesn’t mean it’s too late for anything,” she said, walking past me. “If you know what I mean.”

“Like you wanting to fuck my brother?”

“Shut up Arlen!” she said with a huff. “All you fucking men…”

I had the feeling Beau was still very much in love with his ex-wife. Yet…something told me Ben and I got on his back about Jenny. One man and two potential women to enjoy?

I’d rather deal with the devil all over again.

Ben

My head was fucking killing me and not just from the hangover. Everything was so fucking confusing. There was too much information in my head. It was too fucking much. I knew what the internet was and bluetooth and all those other fake fucking words Hughie had made up. Or I thought he’d made up.

I’d been gone almost forty years and in that time everything had changed so fucking much.

Funnily enough, I fucking enjoyed therapy. It turns out I wasn’t a complete piece of shit. If you don’t give a shit about everyone equally, you’re just an all around asshole which was a step up in my book. 

But apparently my language was “inappropriate” or some shit. It “hurt” those around me. Like my brothers. Yeah right. Those two little shits would get hurt walking to the damn mailbox in my world.

Maybe not Dean. He seemed…angry in a way Beau wasn’t. But they were both still pussies by all standards.

It was getting late in the afternoon as I walked down yet another sidewalk in downtown, the air slightly cool. It must have been early fall based on the few trees starting to turn color. 

“Hey Ben,” said a gorgeous woman with a small wave as she struggled to get her keys in the door. Cassie. She was Beau’s friend and by proxy, mine too. 

“Hey,” I said, walking over, resisting the urge to comment on her ass as I took a box out of her arms.

“Thanks,” she said, opening up the shop door. “Today’s been a disaster. I can’t believe it’s already after three and I’m only now just getting in.”

“I bet,” I said, following her inside, trying very hard to keep my mouth shut. I mean this woman looked good. The old me from before Russia would probably already be screwing her over the desk by now.

“You’re abnormally quiet,” she said, taking the box from my arms. “And no flirting? I bet your interview didn’t go as bad as you think.”

“Interview?” I asked, Cassie rolling her eyes at me. 

“You know, the one you were supposed to have today…the security thing?” Memories flashed in my mind about Beau and Dean pulling strings with a friend of theirs to get me an interview with a private security company. A job I could clearly recall not wanting in the first place.

“Oh. Yeah,” I said, catching a clock on the wall. This supposed interview was in less then fifteen minutes. “Doesn’t sound my style.”

She suddenly looked annoyed, setting the box on a counter off to the side. “Well I’m kind of busy so maybe you should go anyways.”

“Baby-”

“I have a boyfriend, Ben,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Go to the interview for your brothers sake.”

“Whatever,” I said, leaving and walking once again. It only took five minutes to find the place I was supposed to go but I didn’t want a fucking job. The only job I’d ever had was being a supe. A movie star. Model. All of those I’d made the rules.

Anyone who tried to make me do anything other than what I wanted could get fucked.

One Hour Later

I took the fucking job. Why oh why did I say yes to that fucking job? Worst of all, they wanted me to start on Monday.

At the fucking daycare. They wanted me to work at a fucking daycare at the front desk. Me. 

“Hey,” said Beau, pulling up to a stop on the street as I sat on a bench, a stack of black polos with the security logo stamped on them beside me. “You cool?”

“Just get me the hell home,” I grunted, grabbing the shirts and pilling into the passenger seat, grateful when he kept his mouth shut most of the way there.

“So uh, Cassie texted me.” I glared at Beau, his eyes on the road. “I guess you had a job interview?”

I mumbled the story to him, Beau making a surprised sound when I finished. “What’s that supposed to mean, dickhead?”

“Means they must like you, must think you have the capacity to deal with an environment full of kids all day,” grinned Beau. 

I would have slapped him in the face if he hadn’t been driving.

“If I’m lucky I’ll die snorting coke off a whore’s tits before Monday,” I said, Beau frowning as we pulled up to the house. 

“Don’t do that,” he said when I was halfway out the door. I rolled my eyes, Beau’s face so pathetic looking though that I closed the door and sat back in my seat.

“Why not? I don’t want to be here and the world don’t want someone like me in it. I was someone in my universe. Here I’m a mooching scumbag apparently. So who cares if I go out the fun way?”

“I do.” Beau shook his head at me, my annoyance growing. “God, Jack, whatever…that kid put you and Dean in my world for a reason. Dean, I get. He died young and this is a chance to live a normal life. Me? Maybe I do things differently and don’t bottle up my shit and move on from my ex. And you? Maybe you need to get rid of your superiority complex and learn to just be a normal person without superpowers or torture or whatever. So don’t do something stupid cause I will find you in the afterlife and I will kick your ass if you do.”

“Fine,” I grumbled. A minute later I was in my bedroom, frowning at the space. It was pretty fucking filthy. “Why don’t we have a fucking maid again?”

“Because we’re not rich,” said Beau as he walked past my open door. I heard him go into a bedroom and exit a moment later sans his firearm and badge, his shirt untucked. “Dean’s making homemade pizza when he gets in.”

“Good. I’m starving,” I said, following Beau downstairs. “How much to get you to clean my room?”

“What did I say to you not five minutes ago?” asked Beau, spinning around on the stairs, looking up at me. “Find a closet or bathroom. I’m sure there’s cleaning supplies in there.”

“Well I’ve never cleaned shit so how was I supposed to know that?” Beau raised his eyebrows. “What? I grew up rich and then got even richer.”

“Well I seriously doubt mom and dad would let you get away with not cleaning your room. Think and you’ll remember.” I frowned. Of course I knew how to fucking clean something. It didn’t mean I wanted to.

“Still stupid,” I mumbled.

“Ben,” said Beau, raising his voice. “I know you think you’re hot shit but you are a sorry excuse for a man. Start acting like one and maybe every conversation you have won’t be a fight.”

Beau went downstairs, leaving me standing there feeling for the first time in a very long time like maybe my dad had been right.

I really was a fucking disappointment.

I cleared my throat an hour later as I went downstairs to find Beau and Dean laughing in the kitchen. They turned their heads when I walked in, a strange awkwardness settling in my gut.

“I uh, cleaned my room,” I said, glancing at the three ready pizzas. “One of those for me?”

“Come on, man. You can make up your own,” said Dean. I settled next to him, looking at the different topping options. “I heard you got a job today.”

“Yeah,” I said, sprinkling some pepperoni on top of one. 

“So what was it like growing up rich?” asked Dean. “Personally we had jack shit after I was four. Nice to know I was well off in one universe.”

“It was alright,” I said, Beau passing me a bowl of peppers and onions. “Actually it sucked. I was never good enough for my dad.”

“Been there, done that,” said Dean. “I mean, I made up with my dad eventually but it wasn’t until after he died.”

“My dad’s nice,” said Beau softly. “Our dad. You guys will like him.”

“I’m sure we will,” said Dean, nudging my ribs. “Hey. Even if he’s not perfect, beats being tortured for forty years, am I right?”

“You have a point.” I put some extra jalapeños on my pizza before I was done, Beau hopping up on the counter. Dean grabbed a few beers from the fridge, handing one to each of us and then putting the first pizza in the oven.

“So,” said Beau, taking a draw from his bottle. “I know this situation is kind of crazy but not gonna lie, I don’t mind having some company at home again. Em stays with her mom a lot lately.”

“I lived with my brother most of my life,” said Dean with a small smile. “It’s not half bad.”

They both glanced at me, waiting for me to share something personal. I resisted the voice at the back of my head screaming for me to snap an insult back at them.

“I’ve kinda always been on my own I guess,” I said, fiddling with the bottle in my hands. 

“Well not anymore,” said Beau.

“Just stop calling us pussies all the time?” asked Dean, a smirk on his face.

“No promises,” I said, Dean slapping my back.

“Told ya you’d warm up to us,” he said. I rolled my eyes, Beau chuckling into his beer. “We’ll work on it.”

Beau held up his bottle, raising his chin. “To Ben working on his potty mouth.”

“To living in a world where we can have normal lives,” said Dean, lifting his. I tilted mine up, nodding once.

“To my new, weird as fuck, brothers.” 

“I’ll drink to that,” said Dean, throwing an arm over my shoulders, a strange warmth filling me up. “Now who’s hungry?”

________

[lightofraye]

I decided to torture myself.

I don't know why.

Her voice is just awful. Dear Danneel, please get vocal lessons. Bring it down an octave or something because fucking yikes.

A follower sent me this and asked if I had seen it. I had not. It was, after all, a fan compilation of various interviews of Danneel, videos, whatever. And...

How the hell do people stan her?

She's vapid, uneducated. Ugh.

Anyway... points of interest.

Throughout the whole video: WHO CARES ABOUT THE DAMNED HAIR TWIRLING?!

0:54: During a photo shoot I guess at a premier. ZERO chemistry between Danneel and Jensen. Jensen is smiling politely and wanting to get away as fast as possible.

1:00: Yes Danneel. We can see that it's a hallway. GOD. How insipid. Even Jensen was like "OMG, what?"

1:54: Uh. Danneel, honey, why would anyone else play Dean Winchester besides Jensen Ackles? He did not like that one bit.

4:14: Uh huh. If Jensen had witnessed some of it, why was nothing done then? I'm super-dubious about this claim. I really am. And how could he have witnessed it when he was likely filming Supernatural during that? Hmm.

5:55: Yeahhh.... had the family, but the steady career? Hahaha. Nope.

6:35: Danneel, honey, neither do you. If you expect me to believe you do any of the cleaning, I'm gonna call you a liar. You do nothing. Also, Jensen looked annoyed at the idea of so many bathrooms.

6:43: You are also not nice. I came across some old rumors about you, honey. You were awful, vicious, and the reason you got fired from One Tree Hill was because of your *whispers* drug habits.

6:55: WHAT IS SHE WEARING?!

7:35: The ever-changing face, proving that she lies about her plastic surgery. (Supposedly she claims she doesn't that many and I died laughing.) Also: "beautiful men with big egos"--bullshit, honey. You're the one who has the massive ego with zero to back it up. Plus she sounds as insincere as fuck.

8:22: "It's good. I love him. He's great." Insincere.

8:33: I'm cringing on Jensen's behalf. "Where the magic happens". And bypassed Jensen's wishes and insisted it not be cut--and guess what? It wasn't cut. As if they've shared a bed in years.

8:44: Ohhhh my gods. The brewery interview. Pay attention to Jensen's face as the interviewer talks about working together, living together--Jensen's done. And actually says "yes" to being tired of being with her. Danneel looked pissed. Ah honey...

11:43: Uh huh. The ring, huh? Gold digger.

12:04: The so-called flight anxiety. Whatever, Danneel. If you're able to fly without supposed help or therapy...? (No, getting drunk is not legitimate help.) You fly a lot, more than most "average" people. You take your kids. You go to conventions. You supposedly saw your husband a lot when he was filming Supernatural. You flew for your tidbits of roles. Then you're fine.

14:34: "Jensen's first time being in here." For the kitchen? Oh please! As if he never went in for a snack, beer, or anything. SHUT UP, DANNEEL.

14:38: "Nothing can happen to me, not for me, but for my kids." Excuse me, I need to shake some sense into her. Babe, honey, you do jackshit for your kids. They'll be fine.

Also that's not how panic attacks work. You literally aren't able to talk yourself out of it. Please stop.

15:36: "We're having another baby." That look your husband gave you? A deserved death glare because you knew he wouldn't like it. Stop emotionally torturing him, god!

16:41: I love that Jensen called her out on her lie about her name. I don't think she liked that either.

17:24: Ah. The insult about him smelling bad. God, can't she ever say anything nice about him? See the way he took a deep breath, braced himself? That's not a normal reaction to a "joke".

17:43: How can he not know women put perfume on their wrists and elsewhere? Translation: he never sees Danneel do it. Because they don't share a bedroom after all.

18:11: HOW CAN HE NOT KNOW THAT CHAIR MOVES?! Did the man not live there at all?!

19:34: Oh god. The doll. Honestly, Jensen should dump it. Stop torturing him with it! It's not funny!

19:53: Couldn't let him have the closet joy, huh? Bitch.

20:18: No. You're not nice. Nope. Not at all.

God. My eardrums. I'm crying now.

Danneel, babe, vocal coach. Please!

[queen-of-deans-booty]

The Devil in the Details: Part One

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: canon angst and violence, extra angst, feeling broken and utterly helpless to the point of depression

Summary: Sam is captured by Lucifer yet again, and it's up to you, Dean, Crowley, Rowena, and Castiel to bust him out. God was never here. God was never the one talking to him. It was all Lucifer. Sam is once again at Lucifer's mercy but this time, he's not gonna let him win.

Season Eleven Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. I love seeing any and all comments <3

x

Sam knows he's not getting out of the cage without outside help, so he has to try his best not to let Lucifer win. He puts as much distance as he can between himself and the devil, hoping--praying--that Dean will get him out of this alive. Lightning flashes cast an eerie glow to the cage, and Sam processes Lucifer's words.

"You? The visions... Everything... It was all you?"

"Impressive, right?"

"What about Rowena?"

"She did as she was told. Groupies... they're always so eager," he chuckles.

"So, you did all of that just to... to what... jump my bones?"

"Literally," Lucifer grins.

"You wasted your time then. I know how this ends."

"Oh, do you now?"

"Yeah. You'll taunt me and torture me, and I'll say no. Eventually, sooner than you think, Y/N's gonna walk through that door and kick your ass."

"Y/N? You're betting on Y/N?" the devil laughs.

"I always have. She has magic. With my brother, you're not gonna win."

"Oh, Sam. You got me all wrong."

"I doubt that."

"No, I'm not here to torture you. I mean, I could." Lucifer walks closer to Sam, and he presses himself into the bars more as if that will put more distance between them. "I could inflict pain like you can't even imagine. I could inflict such delicious, perfect pain." Sam looks fearful and Lucifer grins evilly. "But that was so five years ago. No. I'm not going to harm a glorious little hair on that glorious little head."

"Then what do you want?"

"To make you an offer you can't refuse. You see Sam, you need me and I'm gonna prove it to you."

Dean watches Lucifer grab his brother, and he grows angry at the fact that he can't do anything about it right now.

"You're dead!" Crowley yells at his mother, knowing she is part of this plan.

"Please Fergus, enough with idle threats," she rolls her eyes.

Crowley grabs her throat and starts to choke her out. Dean doesn't interfere knowing Rowena deserves a bit of pain.

"You betrayed me in my kingdom!"

"Not yours! His!" She gasps and tries to get Crowley off her. "Hell is his! I'm his. So, hurt me and what do you think he'll do to you?"

"Lucifer will never get out of that cell."

"You're willing to stake your life on that? On Sam Winchester?" she asks, barely able to speak.

"Okay, that's enough," Dean says.

Crowley releases her and Rowena falls to the ground, coughing violently.

"How long? How long have you been working for him?"

"Not long. Lucifer came to me in a dream..." She smirks at Crowley's horrified look. "Not that kind of dream."

"You're just gonna let the big strong man boss you around? Whatever happened to the super-duper awesome coven #girlpower?"

"Lucifer is no man. He's perfection. Why do you think I let your droogs find me? Lucifer has a plan."

"He's the devil!" Dean shouts.

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Oh, I'm a bad thing. He's a worse thing. Last time Lucifer went topside you know what he wanted?" Rowena smiles at her son's question. "Death. For you. For me. For every human and every demon."

"He's changed."

"Oh yes, of course. All he needed was the love of a horrible woman. You're doing all this... why? Out of the goodness of your heart?"

"Don't you be daft. After Lucifer stops the Darkness, he'll ascend to his throne... in Heaven and I'll be by his side, a loyal follower."

"A queen?"

"Like it or not, you know I'm right. Lucifer fought the Darkness before and he won." Rowena's face scrunches in anger. "So, unless you've got the almighty in your back pocket, I suggest you sit down, shut up, and let him work."

You have never driven the Impala this fast before. When Amara zapped you back to the park, you had to know if the angels had killed her or not. Dean and Sam probably already went to Hell to talk to Lucifer. As much as you wanted them to wait for you, this is more important. You have to know if she's dead or not. You dial Dean and Sam but neither of them is answering their phones.

"Call me. Now!" you say when you get Dean's voicemail for the third time.

Knowing he's with Crowley, you dial 666. You groan in frustration when he doesn't answer, either.

"Thank you for phoning Crowley, King of Hell. For demon deals press one. To report a sighting of that ginger whore Rowena, press two."

You try Castiel but you're not able to leave a voicemail. Suddenly, you're hit with a wave of nausea--too strong to continue driving. You pull over and stumble out of the car before vomiting on the side of the road. Your vision is blurry, there is a ringing in your ear, and you feel the urge to throw up again.

"Y/N?"

You look up and see an angel walking toward you.

"Castiel?"

"I came as soon as you called. Are you alright?"

You blink rapidly to try and focus your vision. "Castiel, is that you?"

The angel puts his hand on your shoulder and looks into your eyes.

"You're not well."

"What's wrong with me?" Castiel places a hand on your forehead and stares deep into your eyes. "What are you doing?

"Stick out your tongue." You do as you're told, and Castiel peers inside. He holds up one finger. "Let me take your temperature."

"Only Dean is allowed back there." You swat his hand away. "What is going on?"

"How far are we from the event?"

"You mean the angel nuke on Amara?" Castiel nods and you point in the directions you were driving in. "Ground zero is about a mile down that way."

"That explains it. You're suffering from smiting sickness."

"What?"

"The angels... what they did... it releases a tremendous amount of energy and there's fallout, so this whole area is poisoned."

"You can heal me, right? I can't do it."

"No, I can't and the closer you get to the blast site the worse your sickness will become."

"How worse?"

"The last time there was a smiting of this magnitude, Lot's wife turned to salt."

"Awesome," you scoff.

"You need to go back, Y/N."

"No, I can't." You struggle to get up. "She threatened my kids, my family. I need her to be dead. She took so much from me." You cry. "I need her to be gone. We need to go."

"We don't. The fallout doesn't affect angels. I'll go in alone."

Your stomach churns and you fight the urge to throw up again.

"Yeah, it's probably better that way. I gotta go check on Sam and Dean, anyway."

"Good."

You get back into the car and grip the steering wheel tightly.

"Castiel?" He looks at you. "If it did work and she is dead, bring her body out."

"If she's not?"

"Run."

You peel away from the angel and drive like a bat outta hell toward the Bunker knowing it's the last place Sam and Dean were in. If they did go to Hell without you, then you're not sure where the entrance is. Thus, you go to the Bunker. Your phone beeps and you look at it thinking it's Sam or Dean. Neither. It's Molly. She, the kids, and the dogs are at the water park for the day. At least they're safe.

"Sam! Dean!" you yell in hopes they are still here. Your phone rings and you see Crowley calling you. "You son of a bitch."

"Miss you too, puddin'," Crowley flirts.

"Where are Sam and Dean?"

"Yeah, they went to Hell without you."

"I figured that much."

"There's been a bit of a hiccup. Sam's in the cage... with Lucifer."

"Tell me how to get to Hell," you growl.

Crowley does only because he knows you want Lucifer dead more than you want him dead. The fight takes you all the way to Kenesaw, Nebraska where the entrance to Hell is. Apparently, there are instructions since there will be someone waiting for you when you arrive. He gave you a password but like hell you'll sing it. You park, get out, and dial Castiel (he doesn't answer).

"Hey, Castiel. I know you're fighting the good fight right now, but I need you at Third and Pine, Kenesaw, Nebraska, because I'm going to Hell. Please come."

You hang up the phone and knock on the door. The slot in the door opens and you roll your eyes when you see it's Billie.

"Oh, it's you."

"Password?"

"Crowley sent me, okay? Just open up."

"Password!"

You can't believe you're going to do this. You groan and step back before singing the password.

"Camptown ladies sing this song. Do dah, do dah. Camptown race track five miles long, oh do dah day." You shudder. "Alright, just let me in."

Billie opens the door with a smirk.

"Nice work, Taylor Swift."

"Funny for a reaper. I didn't peg you as the kind of woman to work for Crowley."

"Not for, with. Strange days, Winchester. Times like this, it doesn't hurt to have the King owe you a favor." She picks up a box and hands it to you. "For the limey."

"What is it?"

"You'll see."

"Whatever. Can you get me in or not?"

"That's the plan." Billie walks to another door that has warding sigils painted on it. She places her hand on one of the sigils and it lights up all of the markings. The door opens to reveal the passage into Hell. It's dark and cold, nothing like you thought it was going to be. "Watch your step. It's a long way down."

x

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[maxinemartinsdrill]

spn women I have strong feelings about:

1. ROWENA ROWENA ROWENA. Rowena will get CRAZYYYYY interesting backstory dropped in various episodes and ppl just ignore it. like she grew up poor and when she had Crowley she was miserable and alone and she despised him for it because she needed to be strong and he felt like a weakness to her. and then she spends years fleeing witch hunts running around Europe and she finally grasps some level of power to find security because magic is her way out magic is her strength etc etc. and we first see her killing pimps and then helping those girls and then punishing them for lacking the strength she wants to see in them. like is she a nice person? absolutely not. but the reasons for her desperation to hold onto power are SO SOS SO COMPELLING. ppl would be allllllll over her if she were a man I mean that so sincerely.

AND THEN. She meets the Winchesters and they keep kidnapping her and she gets thrown into all this shit with Lucifer and she's not as strong as she thought she was. she's not strong enough to be safe. but the she gets to know Sam better and she finally gains the levels of power she's sought of angling for as well as some of the emotional security because he's vulnerable with her and he gets it a little bit. and she can let herself be bit more vulnerable and she can open herself up to feeling more than just scared or vengeful. the fact that when she's safe she will let herself love people??? excellent. like her becoming less evil to me is wayyyyy more interesting than the way spn does this a lot of the time and it feels rly fucking authentic.

AND EVERYTHING AFTER THA IS GREAT AS WELL. her trying to decide where she stands morally, admitting she did awful things to herself and getting on with it, only being able to love her son after he's dead, bequeathing Sam everything she had after she died. LIKE THERES SO MUCH THERE. and obligatory Lucifer trauma mention because samwena Lucifer trauma bonding was what got me back into spn and into Sam in the first place.

2. BILLIE. singing oh death in the hospital. holding Rowena while she completely loses itm she is THEE benevolent death to me. I love the fact shs one of the only characters who banters with Dean on his level of strange anachronisms. Love how when she was reaping him she was debating whether to tell him sam was still alive. possibly I am just obsessed with her because for once they gave a woman interiority in a way that wasn't inherently evil (like she wasn't portrayed as a saint for it but it was like just business) and then s15... At least 75% of my hatred of the cas confession comes from the fact they made Billie 'evil' in order to set it up.

3. Mary.... ohhhhhh mary. More about the implication than anything else - 'they couldn't stand each other at first but by the time we were done with them...' truly awful. the way she tries her whole life to get away from hunting and runs right back into it. and she comes back to deeply troubled children who she is expected to parent without having any idea of how to do this because she does not know them. and she's a mother to them not mary.

4. bela talbot :(( you're dying. And utterly alone. and you died to free yourself and you've been running and running your entire life but you can't run any longer. and there's someone on the phone, maybe the only person who can understand you. you're similar and he may as well be the only person left in the world. and then he calls you a bitch and says you deserve to die. and you get ripped apart by dogs and tortured for the rest of eternity.

5. KELLY KLINE!!!!!!!!! craziest mf on the show istg. again do I think the writers were trying to do anything serious with her? No. BUT THE IMPLICATIONS. like as I have rambled about before she is insanely republican and Christian pregnant with the antichrist AND on the run with a queer fallen angel who went on a blasphemous murdering homophobes and republicans spree a couple of years back. she is overwhelmingly positive despite this possibly because she is completely divorced from reality due to her bizarre politics (how to have an affair with the president in a god honouring way is it morally wrong to get an abortion if the fetus is the devil etc). and for some reason she is convinced that jack will save the world which is so fun!!!! I also really enjoy the fact that most of her bizarreness was left to be implied because it allows us to see her as a normal person doing her best in an awful situation and empathise with her. Despite the fact that they could have easily made her a full blown lady Jessica type (i don't know enough about dune to say if this is right) with the whole magical pregnancy manipulative religious delusions/cult type thing going. which would have still been interesting but also lacked depth in places. here they just tell you shes absolutely ridiculous and then have her interact completely normally despite the abnormal circumstances. which (accidentally???) gives her a lot going on. also the bit where she meets jack in heaven and realises he's dead the 'cas said he would look out for you' one of if not the most devastating line in late seasons spn not even joking.

honorary mentions:

Amara :))) literally 90% if when she is on screen I am unconvinced however gimme shelter was sooooooo good. SHES A FEMINIST!!! OBLIGATORY SHOUT OUT TO THE WIRE MOTHER CLOTH MKTHER DEAN AMARA POST

[motelsnleatherseats]

Is Sam Submissive or Dominant? An Analysis. (wincest edition)

so let's talk about a couple of things: canon portrayal of sam hooking up, and during what season it's happening.

early on when we see sam hooking up with someone, he appears to be more aggressive in the way he touches and kisses. he looks hungry for it, maybe even a little forceful or overly eager. he uses his strength and his size to his advantage and effectively seizes control, so i can see how portraying or seeing him as dominant is evident.

now in relation to wincest, i think sam could lean either way here in terms of top or bottom, though i still think he's got that 'i want to call the shots' attitude so maybe he initiates or leads. he's not afraid to ask for what he wants.

seasons 1-4, we're getting sam dealing with the loss of jess, and on top of his trauma response being guilt, it's also anger as a mirror to john and how he handled losing mary. he got dragged back into the hunter life, but he had spent 4 years away from the oppressive thumb of his father (and brother at times) and he wants to hold onto what independence he had discovered in his time away. he wants to prove that he can make good decisions on his own, that's he's strong, and that he's inherently good despite being corrupted demon blood when he was a child. he still wants to make the calls, he still wants control and autonomy, and i think that translates into the bedroom as well.

fast forward to season 6, and we got soulless sam. obviously without a moral compass, he's quick to satisfy carnal desires regardless of circumstance in a take what he wants kind of fashion, so i see the dominant aspect at play here. side note but relatable tangent; considering we've seen plenty of people lose their soul a la amara's insatiable appetite, i'd like to say it's pretty impressive he went an entire year without going off the proverbial deep end. people knew something was off about sam, but he was smart and calculated enough to play off empathy and concern for a good chunk of the year.

season 7 is where we start to see the switch. at first when he gets back and he doesn't remember hell, he feels redemption at first. he atoned for his sins and got satan back in solitary, and he got to come back to his brother. but then the memories come back from his time without a soul, and we get guilt guilt guilt in heavy hitting waves. just when he thought he finally did something right, the narrative screws him. just when he thought he had finally washed his hands clean, they're drenched in blood yet again. then he remembers hell and we've got a full blown case of battered woman (person) syndrome. he's jumpy, he makes himself smaller, he loses the ability to defend himself, sex is now associated with violence (i mean really, the poor guy seems to be sexualized in most torture scenarios), and now he's gotta save face and keep up the illusion that he's managing alright on his own.

once he opens up to dean regarding the visions of satan and dean can see just how badly he's handling it (especially with the lack of sleep), i think he'd try to offer as much comfort as he could afford. sam needs that comfort. he needs softness. and dean is the only one who knows what hell is truly like, he's the only one who understands, and i think submission to dean is imminent. dean deserves his submission, he deserves his apology for trying to do things on his own, because look at how much worse he made things thinking he could do it without dean. we see this carry on into later seasons as well. after the whole amelia debacle, everyone else is really off the table. he can't afford to let dean down again, can't do anything that would drive him off to anyone else, and we see this carry on especially towards the end of season 8 with his confessions before completing the trials. 'i'm sorry for everything i did, i'd rather die than you let you down again.' -> i'll do anything to make it up to you, please tell me what to do.

i also think it's interesting to look into how dean deals with his trauma. it's almost flipped compared to sam's, because when he got back from hell, it took some pushing on sam's part to get him to open up and we see vulnerability, we see tears and remorse for the things he did, but everything else after that evolved into deep rage. he became more controlling of sam, kept secrets, told him we're doing this my way because i said so, end of discussion, and sam has no choice in the matter. he treads carefully for some time until it comes down to dean's survival, then he starts making bad decisions again (i.e. roping charlie into getting the mark off of dean's arm which effectively gets her killed and then releasing the darkness in the process) because existence without dean doesn't make sense.

another thought, as the seasons go on, we don't see sam nearly as interested in sex (though he wasn't very much at any point by comparison to dean), and who would blame him?

anyway, point of the long drawing on of thoughts and reflections~ top or bottom, i don't think it matters. i think sam is completely capable of being both dominant and submissive in relation to his mental/emotional state of mind and what kind of trauma he's processing along with how dean is treating him.

but in regards to drabbles/roleplays/fics/what have you, hey man whatever floats your boat.

-> i wanted to reblog and comment on this post but i didn't want to hijack op's post.

[send-noodles-not-nudes]

Nah I call absolute bullshit on the "Dean Winchester tortured people in Hell" thing and here's why:

It only took 30 years to break him? Seriously??? Dean Winchester????? That's a load of garbage

Maybe after 300 years but anything less than a century is blasphemy and I refuse to believe it. And the writers control the time dilation so THEY CHOSE how long to give him

If he was gonna torture people, there would be certain criteria that would need to be met. Dean would not torture someone without knowing they deserved it bc he knows there's people in Hell that don't truly belong there. He'd have a high bar for who he'd allow himself to do that to. They would have to be like Hitler-level souls. Serial killers. Kiddy diddlers. But he wouldn't just do it to whoever.

It would take more than just physical torture to break him, and way longer than 30 years (but we already mentioned that part). He only talked about being filleted, but there's no way physical pain alone would break him. There had to be a mental component, and I'd argue that mental torture had to be the larger part of it.

Even if they wrote that he broke under circumstances that were actually acceptable per his characterization, I don't think he would keep going for ten years. If he's crying about it when he's topside, he felt bad about it in the pit, too. He would have gone back on the rack when he realized what he was doing because torturing people is a worse Hell for Dean than being tortured. No way would he keep it up for ten whole years.

This was neither confirmed nor denied, but someone had to have been guiding him to do it, especially the first time. He wouldn't go from the rack to immediately flaying people, even if they WERE bad people. Someone would have had to hold his hand and move it for him and force him to do it because there's no way he'd do it of his own free will. See previous comment about Dean's Hell being more about hurting others than getting hurt, himself.

[samazing0831]

This Time, Stay - Dean Winchester x Reader SMUT - MDNI

MDNI

1.7k words

You were done waiting. Years of emotional whiplash and unspoken tension with Dean had finally reached a breaking point. But just when you're ready to walk out for good, Dean stops you - with words you never thought you'd hear and a promise he's never been brave enough to make. What begins with anger and heartbreak ends in confession, forgiveness... and one hell of a night.

Angst, Smut, Emotional Confession

MDNI!!!

Dean stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching as you shoved clothes into your duffel bag with quick, sharp movements. Each zip of fabric against fabric sounded louder than the last, like a countdown. His stomach twisted, a sinking weight settling deep in his chest. He’d seen people leave before. He was used to it. But not you. Never you.

“C’mon, don’t do this,” he said, voice rough, hesitant - like he already knew it wouldn’t be enough.

You didn’t pause. You just kept packing, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the wall behind him. “You don’t get to ask me that,” you snapped, zipping the bag up with finality. “Not after everything. Not after all the times you pushed me away like I didn’t matter - like what we have doesn’t matter.”

Dean exhaled sharply, raking a hand down his face. The urge to argue rose in his throat, but he couldn’t find the words. He wanted to tell you that you did matter - more than he could explain - but he knew better than anyone that actions spoke louder than words. And his had been screaming the wrong things for far too long.

“Where the hell are you even gonna go?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Anywhere but here,” you said as you slung the bag over your shoulder. “I can’t keep waiting for you to figure out what you want. I deserve better than that.”

The words hit harder than any punch he’d ever taken in his life. He took a step forward, heart pounding.

“You really think I don’t know that?” he asked, desperation creeping into his tone. “I know you should’ve walked away a long time ago. But I also know that I-” He stopped, jaw locking tight as he shook his head, overwhelmed by the weight of everything he never said.

You stared at him, waiting, hoping. But silence settled in the space between you like a verdict.

“That’s what I thought,” you whispered.

You started to move past him, but Dean reached out, his hand catching your wrist - not tight, not forceful, just enough to make you stop. Just enough to make you turn around.

“I love you,” he said, the words tumbling out like they’d been trying to claw their way out for years. “I love you, okay? And yeah, maybe I’m a damn coward for not saying it sooner, but I can’t -” He broke off, shaking his head like he couldn’t breathe. “I can’t watch you walk away. I won’t.”

His eyes, usually so guarded, were raw now. Open in a way you’d never seen. It hit you then - Dean Winchester wasn’t afraid of monsters. He was afraid of this. Of you. Of losing something that actually meant something.

“I don’t know, Dean,” you said quietly. “You don’t know the torture I’ve been through - seeing you bring girl after girl into motel rooms, or back to the bunker, acting like none of it mattered. Or that year you were with Lisa and Ben while Sam was in literal Hell.” You dropped your bag with a heavy thud, hands curling into fists at your sides. “You can’t tell me you love me now, after knowing how I felt all this time. Why now? Why not years ago? I just… I want to be wanted, Dean.”

Dean flinched, your words landing like a physical blow. He looked away, guilt carved deep into every line of his face.

“I know I don’t get to just say a few words and make all of that go away,” he said. “And I sure as hell don’t deserve a second chance. But don’t you get it? That’s why I never said anything. Because you do matter to me. So much it scared the hell out of me.”

He laughed bitterly. “Everything I love gets taken away. Everything I care about, the universe turns into a weapon. Wanting you - loving you - felt like begging for another target on my back. But that’s no excuse. Not anymore.”

He stepped forward, voice softer now. “If you need me to prove it, I will. I’ll fight for this. I’ll fight for you. I just… I need to know there’s still a chance.”

You searched his face for lies, for any trace of manipulation. “You’re not just saying this to keep me here, are you?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

“No,” Dean said without hesitation. He held your gaze, steady and sure. “This isn’t a trick. I mean it. I want you. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that - if you let me.”

You felt the walls around your heart soften, just a little. “Just because I’m not leaving doesn’t mean I forgive you.”

Dean nodded, that tiny flicker of hope brightening his eyes. “Yeah. I get it. I just need the chance to make it right.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing against yours like he was asking permission to be close again. “So… what now?”

You smiled faintly. “Well… if I were you, I’d probably kiss me right now.”

Dean huffed a laugh and didn’t waste another second. His hands slid to your waist, and then his lips were on yours - not rough, not desperate - just right. Steady. Real. Like he finally knew what he wanted.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. “Damn. Should’ve done that a long time ago.”

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.”

“Alright, smartass,” he muttered with a smirk. “Guess I deserved that one.”

He looked at your, something serious blooming behind his grin. “So, uh… where do we go from here?”

You raised an eyebrow, your smile taking on a more wicked curve. “The bedroom?”

Dean blinked, then chuckled low in his throat. “Damn, sweetheart, you don’t waste any time, do you?”

His hands tightened at your hips as he tugged you closer, lips brushing your ear. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

You shivered, his voice and touch igniting something hot and electric beneath your skin.

You shivered, his voice and touch igniting something hot and electric beneath your skin.

“Then show me,” you murmured.

He didn’t need to be told twice.

You barely made it down the hall before his mouth was on yours again—hungrier, rougher this time. Dean kissed you like a man starved, all the years of tension unraveling in the space between heartbeats. His hands were everywhere - gripping your waist, threading through your hair, tugging you flush against him like he couldn’t stand even an inch of distance.

You gasped into his mouth as he walked you backward, guiding you down the hall like muscle memory, like he’d dreamed about this exact moment so many times that he didn’t even have to think. And maybe he had.

By the time your knees hit the edge of the bed, your shirt was on the floor, and his mouth had made a slow, maddening trail down your neck. He lowered you onto the mattress with a careful kind of reverence, like he was still afraid you’d disappear.

“Still sure about this?” he asked, voice low and gravelly, hovering above you, his eyes searching yours one last time.

You reached up and curled your fingers into his shirt. “Dean. I’m already naked from the waist up.”

He smirked, dipping his head to your chest. “Yeah, just checking.”

He made quick work of the rest of your clothes, tossing them aside carelessly as his own followed. You took a second to drink him in - broad shoulders, firm muscles, a few scattered scars that you suddenly ached to know the stories behind - not that you didn’t know them already.

Then his mouth was on your skin again, warm and purposeful - kissing, licking, biting just enough to make you gasp. He took his time like he had something to prove. Maybe he did.

His hands were strong but patient, sliding between your thighs, teasing with slow, torturous precision. You bucked up against his touch, shameless now, needy in a way you hadn’t let yourself be around him before.

“Dean - please,” you whimpered, nails digging into his shoulders.

“Say what you want, sweethearts,” he murmured against the inside of your thigh, his voice dark and amused. “I’m listening.”

“You. I want you.”

That was all it took. In the next breath, he was kissing you again, rough and hungry, lining himself up with a low, satisfied growl. And when he finally pushed into you - slow, deep, stretching you just right - you both let out the kind of sound that belonged behind locked doors.

“Fuck,” he groaned into your neck, holding still for a second like he was overwhelmed by just being inside you. “You feel like a goddamn dream.”

You moaned his name as he began to move, every thrust hitting deep, sending sparks racing up your spine. He was relentless - rolling his hips like he knew exactly how to ruin you and was determined to do it slowly.

One of his hands tangled in yours above your head. The other dragged down your body, gripping your thigh and hitching it higher around his waist, changing the angle just enough to make your vision blur.

“Look at me,” he rasped. “Wanna see you fall apart for me.”

You did. Over and over, until your moans echoed off the bunker walls, until his name was the only thing you could remember how to say. Until your whole world narrowed down to the slide of his body against yours and the filthy promises he whispered into your ear between kisses.

And when he came - hard, deep, with a guttural sound that shook something inside you - he held you like he never wanted to let go. Like maybe now that he’d finally said the words, finally touched you like this, he couldn’t let go.

The room was quiet afterward, just the sound of your breathing, tangled sheets, slick skin, and the soft creak of the bed beneath you.

Dean brushed damp hair from your forehead and kissed your temple, his voice quieter now, but still thick with emotion.

“I told you,” he murmured, curling around you. “I’m not letting you go.”

You closed your eyes, finally warm, finally safe.

“Good,” you whispered back. “I’m not going anywhere.”

[watchingspnagain]

Rewatching The Rapture

Welcome to “It’s Not Like He Boiled *Her* Arm, Jeez: A Supernatural Rewatch Blog” with Lor and Mace!

Up today, s4e20: The Rapture.

Cas appears to Dean in a (lovely, peaceful) dream and gives him a note asking him to meet him at a warehouse. When the boys show up at the warehouse, something angelic has clearly gone down, and they find Cas—but not. It’s Jimmy Novak, the man Cas was using as a vessel. Cas is mysteriously back in heaven. After a good deal of objection and argument from the boys, Jimmy returns home to his family (who think he walked out and disappeared on them a year ago, probably as part of a psychotic break). We see several flashbacks of Jimmy when Cas first began to speak to him, as well as Jimmy’s tortured attempt to rejoin his family. Meanwhile, demons are up to shit, threatening Jimmy and his family. When Cas returns to find Jimmy wounded, he possesses Jimmy’s daughter Claire instead. Cas assures Jimmy that he has done well and will be rewarded in heaven, but Jimmy insists that Cas not subject Claire to the rigors and pains of possession, and Cas agrees to possess Jimmy once again. Cas then reveals to Dean that his trip to heaven has cured him of his doubts and that he serves heaven… not Dean. The boys return to Bobby’s, being all fraught with one another about Sam’s recent confession to Dean that he’s been drinking demon blood. Bobby and Dean trick Sam into the panic room and lock him in, hoping to force him to detox from the blood.

Below is a log of our real-time reactions as we watched. Remember that there may be spoilers for any part of SPN’s 15-season run here. Note also that the nature of our conversation is adult and thus it may contain adult language and themes.

[and we begin:]

Lor:

omg. He deserves to sit by a quiet lake and fish

Mace:

Misha looks so young and gorgeous

Lor:

he DOES

Lor:

the way you know IMMEDIATELY it's not Cas

Mace:

is he…doing a higher-than-his-real-voice voice?

Mace:

or has his voice lowered a bit with age, I wonder

Lor:

yeah I'm not sure. he is for sure doing a higher than Cas voice

Lor:

aw Dean doesn't like that Cas isn't in there anymore. like not just that he doesn't know where Cas is, but like, that is supposed to be Cas and it's NOT

Mace:

YEP

Mace:

I wonder, if Cas never returned at this point, would Dean and Jimmy have gotten together?

Lor:

naah

Lor:

he's too... vanilla

Mace:

but he’s also HOT

Lor:

that IS true

Mace:

and Cas isn’t exactly spicy

Lor:

he WOULD have a lot of fun undoing that aaaaall the way up tie

Lor:

Cas's Dom brow begs to differ

Mace:

may i remind you that those eyebrows belong, in fact, to Jimmy

Lor:

but he doesn't DEPLOY them

Mace:

oookay

Lor:

omg he's just little

Mace:

Oh Sammy

Mace:

we gots to get you off the juice, man

Lor:

right?

Lor:

"was it a refreshing Coke?" Dean, you little shit, I love you

Mace:

snork

Mace:

HANDS

Lor:

YES

Lor:

oooh, I forgot Jimmy cooks. maybe they WOULD get together

Lor:

but he'd have to stop putting his arm in boiling water. Dean's little caretaker heart couldn't take it

Mace:

okay, i relent. Dom Cas just made Jimmy boil his own fucking hand

Lor:

HAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA

Lor:

MACE

Lor:

we just flipflopped

Mace:

oh gross. HER again

Mace:

WE DID

Lor:

ug Anna

Mace:

well, no, actually. I never stopped liking the idea of Dean and Jimmy

Mace:

Jimmy Dean sausage, baby

Lor:

HAHAHAHAHAHA omg dude

Mace:

(oh I just grossed myself out. apologies)

Lor:

(lololololol)

Lor:

oh Jimmy you're gonna be in so much trouble

Mace:

he is SO pretty

Lor:

omg LOOKIT him just lounged there in his t-shirt

Mace:

YAS

Lor:

I mean, if he took the pills, he'd still hear Cas....

Mace:

omg what an idiot. don’t leave him! who tf cares if he takes meds HE’S FLIPPING HOT

Lor:

HAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA

Lor:

and he's not dangerous?

Mace:

well, a little dangerous would be okay...

Lor:

lol

Mace:

ooof that closeup of his LIPS

Lor:

it's like he's all INNOCENT

Lor:

omg the HEAD TILT

Mace:

YES

Mace:

“like what?” like boning? I’d be ready for boning

Lor:

HAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA

Lor:

Amelia kind of annoys me

Mace:

oh LOOKIT HIM with the daughter

Mace:

yeah me too

Mace:

they all drink milk SO WHOLESOME

Lor:

I get her need to protect herself and especially Claire, but her lack of compassion with her husband who she thinks is having a mental break makes me nuts

Lor:

RIGHT?

Mace:

omg the tears in his eyes HE IS SO GOOD

Mace:

YEP

Lor:

omg the way his voice breaks when he says he's not gonna say grace

Mace:

YES

Mace:

Oh Jimmy

Lor:

right?

Lor:

feeling kinda stupid now, AREN'T WE, Amelia?

Mace:

look, Amelia, THAT’s how you support your spouse

Lor:

LOLOLOL

Lor:

"I'm sorry we were" poor Dean just wants to keep people out of this shit

Mace:

yeah

Lor:

jeez Sammy

Mace:

he’s got the DTs leave him be

Lor:

oh fine

Lor:

oh Sammy

Mace:

right? poor tiger

Lor:

Amelia's not here anymore

Mace:

snork

Lor:

heckle and jeckle lol

Mace:

snork!

Mace:

omg Dean’s face when Jimmy gets shot

Lor:

right?

Mace:

yeeeah, they SO wouldn’t get together…

Lor:

picture the look I am giving you

Mace:

aw, loving adoration. thanks, friend.

Lor:

LOLOLOLOLOLOL

Mace:

yes, I AM so smart and pretty

Mace:

omg Sammy

Lor:

you ARE

Lor:

ooof Sam

Lor:

and Dean's face

Mace:

YES

Lor:

and Cas!Claire all with the judgement

Mace:

YEP

Mace:

Misha is SO GOOD

Lor:

RIGHT?

Lor:

there are individual performances of all three of them that were absolutely emmy worthy

Mace:

Dean’s all “hello, boyfriend."

Mace:

YES

Lor:

YEP

Lor:

"and I certainly don't serve you"

Mace:

ooooh playing hard to get

Mace:

SMART

Lor:

whatever you gotta tell yourself, hon

Lor:

HAAAHAHAHA

Lor:

oh man, Dean's in a snit. brother's an addict, boyfriend's pretending he doesn't care

Mace:

Sammy. Read the car. Dean has other troubles right now. Boyfriend is playing hard to get.

Lor:

"mostly I'm just tired, man." oooof

Lor:

LOL

Mace:

yeah

Mace:

“shag ass"

Lor:

RIGHT?

Mace:

I ADORE that expression

Lor:

YES

Mace:

BOBBY NO

Mace:

At least put me in there with him, dude

Lor:

oooooo Dean and Bobby setting him up offscreen

Lor:

HA!

[kiyaar]

Tell me about the things Destiel does for you? Is it the way Cas has torn himself apart (metaphysically, spiritually, his literal true form is mutated and scarred) for his love of Dean, but in a way Dean cannot physically SEE without it burning his eyes out, that all the other angels and demons keep insinuating Dean or Castiel himself has done SOMETHING permanent and transformative to his true form, but Dean brushes it aside as queer innuendo? That he CAN'T accept that Cas loves him so much it’s broken him or else he has to acknowledge that love or shoulder the burden of being the very poison to people he loves just like he’s always feared? And Dean brushing off the angel's comments might make Cas feel like Dean doesn’t really care rather then him not understanding/shielding himself?

(And that Cas's final act forced him to face all of that?)

Or that Dean, a man that went selectively mute as a child after the fire for almost a year, can't ever SAY what he wants. How he needs people to see past his protective, false layers of bravado and machismo to know what he's truly asking for. And this man that can't ask directly loves so dearly this Alien Being that can see HIM as he is truly, but lacks the experience, context, (and self esteem)* to read between the lines of “you're family” “stop being stupid and listen to me” “… you leaving?” and “I need you” instead of hearing: “I care about you so much I will die without you just like I would without my brother” “be safe I don’t want you hurt” “please stay” and “I love you”. And thru Cas's lack of comprehension Dean takes it as rejection over and over? That this man that hates his inability to speak at the right time or to say what he needs to say, who hates that he reacts with anger or silence instead, can’t say anything back to Cas that MEANS half of what Cas said at the very end

*(Cas at the beginning and later at points thru the hazes of regret and self loathing Cas hears “we are of a few comrades in this fight” “I don’t trust your judgment you idiot” “please leave already” and “you can stay because you are useful”

He SOMETIMES gets to “you are part of a very small group of friends we trust” “please don't get in trouble we have to bail you out on” “what are you up to? Want to watch a movie?” and “my life is easier and better with you in it buddy”)

i think it has to do with queer loneliness for me. i come to spn assuming dean winchester is a deeply closeted bi man and is dealing with some hefty queerphobic daddy issues and is also like big into self-denial and masking and self-destruction via substance and willing himself to be a human tumbleweed to deal with those issues. okay. in comes castiel whose first relationship move as a weapon (!!) of heaven is to literally brand him, singlehandedly pull him out of hell and then imprint on DEAN PERSONALLY which is like. a (queer) trauma savior fantasy.

castiel laid a hand on you and he was LOST! like! fuck me!! (–dean winchester, probably –) no one has ever loved me that way and certainly i can't deserve it and god i want to keep it but i don't know how! and like. the Show puts them in RIDICULOUS situations like. the world is ending. i sold my soul. i was tortured for 40 years for nothing. you can't go home again but sometimes home comes to pull you out of hell. dean goes to hell a child and he comes out an old man. he drinks and he gripes and he cries a lot but jesus god, i'd cry too. who on EARTH is going to understand that experience? no one has the language to talk about time like that, the absence of it, the agony of the duration, the skip. castiel does, because he's ancient as fuck.

it would be far less compelling to me if dean could articulate what he wants and needs and loves, but he has trauma blinders and castiel is like. he is so dangerous! but in the way a weapon in the hand is dangerous to the holder if the holder keeps fucking pointing it at himself. and castiel's only (successful) love language is burning the world down for dean and dean doesn't fucking want it! or he doesn't want it like that! or he wants normal things, instead, like consistency and a relationship that isn't constantly chafing his avoidant attachment and abandonment issues - but all he knows how to do is be mad and seethe and wrap it all up and cry about it behind a locked door in a hotel room he shares with his dipshit brother! god!! man cannot handle being loved unconditionally and he makes it everyone's problem! i'm unwell! see also: Mitski_I'm Your Man.mp3

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

I'm happy that you liked the "angsty love triangle" because let me tell you, it took years off my life 😂

Oooh my God, poor Dean. 🫣 This is literally torture for him! lol

Yes it is. And I hated myself for putting him through that, but it had to be done lol.

I had a feeling this was why he insisted on her living in the room next to his, our big protective man, but now it's coming back to bite him in the ass. 💀

It really did. Man just wanted to be close to the reader, not hear her do the horizontal mambo with Ben next door 🤣

And the fanning gif is perfectly used. The Dean literally having a whole expirence thinking about laying on top of the reader 👀

Sobbbiiiiiingggg -- oh Dean. 😭😭

I put him through so much in this part- oh goodness, he kinda deserved it, but it was struggle bus the whole way. He loves the reader so much, and wants to be with her, but we all know he's so bad at expressing his feelings 😭

God Dean! You can only bury your emotions under assholery and anger for so long. He can hate the fact that she's a hunter and want more for her, but he has to accept that it's her choice, and he can support her and be honest with her rather than succumbing to his assholery. 🥲🥲 But of course, his "I'm not worthy" mentality crops up as well. 🙃 Makes you want to throttle him (if in more than one way lmao)!! The thought that he was suffering so much while trying to find her when she was in another world is also heartbreakingly on-brand for him. He'd so be tearing through every piece of lore and resource to try and get her back. 😭

EXACTLY! He hates this life for her, but it is her life. It's her choice to be a hunter and he has to accept that. Because on one hand I do see the side of him that wants to protect her, but he can't shut her up in a glass box. He has to let her live her life and be okay with it. And YES, he should not hide behind the "assholery" (lmao 🤣) instead he should be honest with her!

Oh yeah the "I'm not worthy" was really pulling overtime- It DOES make you want to beat some sense into him with an encyclopedia lol. But we both know how much he struggles with that and I had to include it in here 😭

I KNOW! It fits Dean though. I could see him having the same reaction to it as when Lisa and Ben got taken. Because he loves the reader and he thought that he 'lost' her. Dean would have been almost FERAL to get the reader back.

💀💀💀 Come on now, Dean, don't be petty. 🤣

Dean is so petty you could call him Tom. 😆

TELL HIM, SAM. SHAKE HIM UNTIL HIS GREEN EYES ROLL INTO HIS HEAD -- make him see how he's acting!! lol

LOL YES SLAP SOME SENSE INTO HIM!! USE THE BOOK! Continuing with the trope that Sam knows everything.

Gahhh pain. so very pain, even though it hurts so good. 😭😭😭

Told you... YEARS off my life lol

I also love the use of the office gif- and I really love the little bit that you highlighted about what it was like to kiss Dean vs. Ben. Because yes Dean can say that Ben "is him" but they really are two different men with different mannerisms. And I had this idea that Dean's kiss would be softer, but also more tentative whereas Ben has the confidence to take what he wants.

Omggg finally!! Finally Dean's being honest about how he feels without being a dick about it. 😪

Literally all it took was a slap and the thought that he was going to actually lose the reader to put him over the edge. It was so satisfying to finally give him a vulnerable moment with the reader, especially after all the shouting between the two of them. But I think that he realized that the only thing he had to lose was the reader and she is everything to him 😭

Ughhh such soul-rendering description, and the spice here is oh so delicious. ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 But I have to point out that the reading is having a DAY loll. Two beefcakes in one night?? 😏 (Also, I'm afraid of how Ben is gonna take this. 😬)

Thank you!! They needed a few moments of spice to make up 😉 especially after everything the two of them have been going through lol. And really after everything Dean had to listen to through the wall 😳

And I KNOW lol. The reader is really living the life we all want 🥴👀

Ben will take it... like Ben... and also a little bit like Dean- pushing it all down 😒

Oh sure, pretend she meant nothing to you to spare your deep-down man feelings. 🙄

Mhmm. It is unfortunately on brand for him and he will not be the one to admit that he has feelings for someone else. Especially not after everything that happened with Countess. And I also think that Ben understands that this reader, isn't really "his."

That was the biggest decider in this fic when I was trying to figure out if the reader should end up with Ben or with Dean. And it really came down to that she's not from Ben's universe. She's a hunter and there are parts of her life that Ben won't be able to understand that Dean can. She might be able to understand Ben, but she needs Dean and Dean needs her.

LMAOO Ben vs. Technology -- I think we all know who's winning. 🤣 And Ben secretly liking therapy just so he just has someone to vent to for an hour? Be still my heart, honestly. 😭

It is the first fight that Ben has ever lost 🤣 And I literally was like, yes Ben would hate being forced to go to therapy, but he would love to sit there and just rant with someone who has to listen to him. Unfortunately, I think that Ben would also be the person who has an affair with their therapist LOL

OMGGGGG I'M WEEAAAAK -- and he's already clocking IT girl's cuteness, I'm dead. 😂💞 The way he's already starting to like her better? I see what you did there. 😉

He's already smitten! 😍 And I had to give him a happy ending too! I don't think I would have been able to live with myself if Ben got sent off without someone to love him 😭 I also know that we've talked in the past about Ben needing someone in his life that gives it right back to him and doesn't put up with any of his antics, but I am so intrigued by the thought of what kind of person Ben would be with a shy/anxious significant other. I love that idea and I'm literally adding it to my WIPs lol 💗

ahaha you charmer, you. 😂 A swoon-worthy line, even if we do know how sleazy this man can be lol. She really has no idea what she's getting into with this guy, but I love to imagine that with this nicely wrapped up ending! 💕💕

He's got a line for everything *sigh* and he knows just what to say. I hate to say that this would have worked on me 😅 She has NO idea, but I like to think that the two of them are very happy right now. Also kinda know because I am slowly plotting out ideas for follow ups with the IT Reader and Ben lol. But I'm so happy you loved it friend!! Thank you so much for all your kind comments!!!💞

Part 3: Why Is It A Big Deal?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Dean Winchester xf!reader

POV: Dean POV, Reader POV, Soldier Boy/Ben POV

Summary: Dean's in for a rude awakening when he finds out exactly what you did when you got stranded in another universe.

Tropes: Fluff, Frenemies (Dean and the Reader), Enemies to Lovers, Awkward Situation, Multiverse Problems, ANGST, Crossover

Word Count: 12.4K (I PROMISE I DIDN'T MEAN TO)

Listen While You Read: Treat You Better By Shawn Mendes

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just to be sure. There is some swearing, Making Out, Sexual Innuendo, References to Sex, Jealousy, A little homophobia (it’s Soldier Boy), Feelings, Angst, Self Deprecating Thoughts? References to Past Sex (it happens quite a bit). Soldier Boy Being Soldier Boy (Everyone knows he’s a warning). Dean Winchester Being Dean Winchester.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person

A/N: It's finally here! I have loved the return to this universe more than words can describe. Each of the POV's are crazy in their own way. And again, don't forget to read the fic "Stranded" by @justagirlinafandomworld that inspired me to write this series in the first place! ENJOY!

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Dean POV

Dean leaned back on his bed at the bunker and jammed the pillow further down around his ears over his headphones. He was listening to a mixtape that he had burned forever ago, chosen because it had the loudest drum solos blaring through his Walkman. However, it wasn't enough to block out the sounds that were coming from your bedroom or the subtle knocking of your headboard against the metal wall between his and your room that grew louder and louder every passing minute.

Dean had tried his best to get Sam on his side when he proposed the idea that Ben didn't have to come back to the bunker and instead should be sent be sent back to wherever the hell he came from right then and there, but Cas was still out doing whatever it was he was doing, which meant that Ben was going to stick around for a little longer.

And it meant that Ben was finally getting his wish… you.

Dean's teeth gritted together when he heard another moan over the sound of the cymbals and felt a white hot spike of something in the pit of his stomach burn through his body.

When you'd agreed to move to the bunker Dean had insisted you live in the bedroom next to his. It meant that if there was a problem in the middle of the night, Dean would be the first to hear you scream and the first to protect you. But other than the time you stubbed your toe and Dean kicked down the door when he heard you yell with his gun drawn, there hadn't been an emergent situation that required his help.

Right now he was regretting the decision to have you live next door wholeheartedly, because it meant that he was having a front row seat to everything Ben and you were doing in your bedroom.

Dean sighed, his eyes squeezed shut, as he tried not to imagine what was happening, but he kept having flashes skate across his mind. He didn't want to see what it looked like or sounded like to have Ben's name tumbling from your lips, all Dean wanted was to hear you say his name like that and to be the one making you fall apart beneath him.

Not some asshole from another universe.

The image of you laying under him back at the school came back to him in a wave, pushing away the revulsion momentarily. He remembered how soft you felt under him, how you clung to his body as if he was the only thing grounding you to earth, how natural it felt to be there protecting you, how you sighed when he pushed your hair back from your face, and how all the soft parts of you seemed to fit perfectly against all of the hardened muscles of him.

He hadn't even made love to you and you laying there on top of you felt more intimate than any experience he'd had in his life. Dean wanted to exist in that moment with you a little longer, to savor those last few seconds of you staring up at him as if he was the only person in the world.

The memory of Ben kissing you after followed. Dean remembered the way Ben's lips roughly took from you and the way he held on to your face and it snapped Dean out of it. It hurt him more that you let Ben kiss you after Dean had been the one to save you.

Fuck.

His teeth gritted hard together so tight that he heard them grind. He hated watching you with Ben, hated watching Ben do the one thing that Dean had wanted to do for years. And Dean also hated the way that Ben treated you, as if you were something to be possessed and showed off, as if you weren't smart or anything more than just beautiful.

Dean had known from the first moment he saw you in Ellen's bar years ago that you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his entire life. You were funny, kind, sarcastic, and had a hard edge that you'd developed after years of being a hunter, but there was something else, a softer side of you that you didn't let everyone see, something hidden beneath it all that you only allowed yourself to have whenever Sam was around, but never with Dean.

It made him hate his brother a little bit, seeing how effortlessly the two of you had developed a friendship, while Dean had to practically Heimlich you to talk to him.

Dean wanted to see that side of you so badly. He wanted you to smile at him the soft way you smiled at Sam, and wanted you to laugh at his jokes or tease him playfully about his hair or about what he was wearing that day the way he'd seen you with his brother.

He tried to find reasons to be in the same room as you, drifting to sit nearby while you read or watched a movie. You always seemed different then. Your body was relaxed, open, with just a hint of a smile curving on the edge of your lips that made Dean want to stare at you for the rest of his life.

He tried to make you laugh whenever he could and tried his best to impress you, but each time he did you'd only roll your eyes and make a sarcastic comment. You didn't like him, Dean knew that, but he wished you did.

Sure he was maybe a little harsh on you sometimes, but Dean didn't want anything to happen to you, he was trying to protect you, because he knew the moment he stopped caring so much would be the moment he lost you.

He'd lost so many things in his life and he knew that he couldn't lose you, not without losing a piece of himself.

He hadn't felt like this about anyone else ever, and he didn't know what to do with his feelings. Bottling them up only seemed to hurt him more, but whenever something happened on a hunt or you tried to split away from him and Sam, he panicked and said things that he shouldn't instead of the three little words that he'd been wanting to say to you for years.

That's what happened a few weeks ago on a hunt, when you went into a house alone and faced a poltergeist that threw you across the room and into a glass cabinet. Dean had stood there yelling at you trying to tell you how stupid it had been for you to go in alone, while biting back what he really wanted to say- that he couldn't lose you. He couldn't lose you because looking at you was like watching the fireflies along a misty road at dusk, each one lighting a path in the darkness that showed him the way.

Yes he was angry, but all Dean saw was the bloody ripped sleeve of your shirt, and the way your face had contorted in pain when Sam picked you up and helped you back to the car. It made Dean feel like someone had ripped at his insides with a pickaxe seeing you hurt and listening to the whimper of pain that passed through your lips. He knew that he went too far when you broke his nose, but damnit, Dean just wanted you to be safe! And you never listened to what he told you because you were just so damn stubborn and always got on Dean's last nerve.

The truth was he hated that this was your life, hated that you were a hunter and each day you put yourself in danger, because he believed you deserved more. You deserved a normal life with someone who loved you, maybe a few kids, a dog, and a life far from the world that Dean and you knew so well.

Of course the thought of you with anyone else made Dean want to put his fist through a wall. The problem was even though Dean wanted you, he believed that you deserved better than him. You deserved the white picket fence and suburbia, not a darkened bunker underground with a man who wasn't sure he still had anything good left.

It was the reason why he didn't want to tell you how he felt, that, and Dean believed you absolutely hated him and hated being around him in the first place. It's why he buried it beneath the surface for so long.

However, when he was looking at you Dean often forgot the things that happened to him. You made him want to keep getting back up to fight if not for anyone else, for you.

But then Ben had shown up.

When you'd gotten dragged to another universe, Dean had tried everything in his power to get you back. He'd screamed and prayed for Cas so loud and so many times he went hoarse, he'd looked through almost every book he knew of to find the spell to bring you back to no avail, tried several rituals that promised results but gave him nothing, looked at his computer screen for so long that it made him cross-eyed, and drank coffee so strong it made his heart race.

But all Dean knew was that you were somewhere else alone, where he couldn't get to you or protect you, and it made him sick. He hated the thought of you alone trying to fight your way to survival in a place like the Endverse. When Cas finally came five days later and helped Dean bring you back, Dean had been so happy to see you that he'd almost hugged you, but instead he'd made an off-brand joke and you'd run into Sam's arms for a hug that made his chest tight.

Dean thought that he was having a nightmare when he saw Ben, a man who looked so much like himself, stride into the motel room confidently and kiss you. Dean was waiting for you to push him away, to tell him to fuck off, but you didn't, you liked it. And judging by the sounds Dean was hearing through the wall he could see that you wanted Ben.

All it did was piss Dean off that another version of himself got to have you and he didn't. Not when he'd known you longer and you'd only known Ben for five days.

Five fucking days. She's known that asshole for five days and she likes him. She's known you for years and she can't even stand to be in the same room with you.

The thought made Dean's heart clench in his chest. He didn't understand what Ben had that he didn’t have, he was him after all as Dean kept saying over and over to you. But Dean knew that deep down the real thing he was telling you over and over was not that Ben was him, but rather was asking the question: "why not me?"

Does she really hate me that much that she can't stand the thought of being with me? That she can stand to be with someone who looks exactly like me, but can't stay in a room with me for more than ten seconds?

Dean gets out of bed, stomps out the door, and down the hallway towards the library to try and escape the sounds coming from your room. They vibrate down the hall after him, like a flock of seagulls, mocking him all the way and doing little to ease the anger and jealousy swirling beneath his skin.

Sam is sitting in a chair with a large volume in front of him and a piece of notebook paper scribbling furiously when Dean enters the library, but he doesn't appear surprised to see his brother.

"That better be a way for use to get rid of the walking Trojan ad." Dean huffs, throwing himself into the chair across from his brother.

Please let them be using protection. The last thing I want is to be stuck here to raise super baby. I had enough problems with Jack.

Sam gives him a sympathetic look, and pushes his long hair back behind his ears. "Sorry. I'm researching a case in Kentucky, but Cas said that he'd be back in a few hours-"

"He said that ages ago! I want that asshole gone now." Dean's hand tightens on the arm of the chair, so tight that his knuckles are white.  He was happy that the library seemed to be far enough away from your room to escape the noise, but he knew it was happening, which didn’t help at all. "I don’t understand what she sees in that dick."

Sam hesitates for a moment, tapping his pen against the notebook paper.

"Just spit it out Sammy." Dean sighs.

"He might be an asshole to you, but not to her." He replies simply.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Well you're kinda…" Sam shrugs and leans back into his chair trying to find the words.

"I'm kinda what?"

"You’re kinda a dick to her." He finishes. "She's getting fed up with it. The other day she told me that she's been thinking about moving out and going back on her own. I've been trying to talk her out of it-"

Dean's blood ran cold. He hated the thought of you leaving again, it meant that he wouldn't know where you were or if you were alive and he wouldn't be able to make sure you were prepared for a hunt or at least be there to have your back if something went wrong- because let's face it, something always went wrong. "What? What the hell are you taking about?! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because she hasn't made up her mind."

"But why?"

"Because ever since the first time we’ve been going on hunts with her, you’ve been rude and-"

Dean interrupts his brother with a shout. "What? Do you expect me to hold her fucking hand? We’ve seen experienced hunters get killed out there with one simple mistake! And she’s just some amateur-"

"Dean, she's not an amateur." Sam sighs as if he can't understand why Dean was being so difficult.

He was. Sam was used to it whenever the subject of you came up in front of Dean, but honestly his brother's stubborn attitude when it came to you was annoying him.

"She is!" Dean snaps back wishing that he had a beer.

"No, she’s not." Sam shakes his head. "She’s been doing this just as long as we have. You know who her mom was and you know that her mom was just as hard on her as our dad was on you-"

At the mention of their father, Dean can feel his jaw tighten, memories flashing across his mind that he wanted to forget. The cold feeling of disapproval begins to creep up his spine to his shoulders, but Dean shakes it off. "That doesn’t matter."

"I think it does."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, Dean you keep saying that he’s you, but I'm starting to think that she's you."

"You need to stop using all those hair products Sammy, they're messing with your head-" Dean scoffs.

"Just listen to me for a minute." Sam points at him with the pen. "She might be stubborn and sarcastic on the outside, but she's not callous or emotionless. She hides what she's feeling deep down, just like you do. And I think that she likes Ben because he doesn't hurt her and he makes her feel wanted."

But I do want her.

The thought rises before Dean could stop it and he wonders if you'd spent all these years thinking that he didn't want you around when it was all he thought about. Every decision he made was to try and protect you, to put you first, and the thought that you didn't see that hurt him.

"I'd never hurt her-" Dean's voice comes out a little softer and more broken than he meant it to, catching slightly on the words.

Sam shakes his head. "Not physically. But the two of you have been doing this for years and I think that she's sick of you treating her the way you do and then she met Ben. She met another version of you who appreciates her. I know that you’re a little jealous-"

"I am not jealous!" Dean says on instinct, but Sam knows the truth, he's always known the truth, and Dean knows it too.

Sam rolls his eyes at his brother. "You should talk to her. Take Ben out of it and talk to her the way you talk to other people."

"I talk to her like I talk to other people." Dean grumbles as he gets up out of his chair intent on going to the kitchen to get a beer or something stronger to take the edge off.

"No you don't. So go talk to her." Sam waves a hand in Dean's direction before his gaze drops back down to the book.

"She's kinda preoccupied." Dean mutters under his breath and the image of you and Ben tangled up in your bed makes him flinch.

Sam looks up at his brother again, sympathy flashing in his eyes. "Dean-"

"Just leave me alone Sammy."

And with that he turns and makes his way towards the kitchen, hoping that he won't be able to hear Ben and you, and wishing that you hadn't met Ben in the first place.

Reader POV

Ben mutters something in his sleep, rolling his body towards yours so close that his muscular right arm brushes against your bare shoulder. He was laying on his stomach, his face pressed into one of your many pillows, snoring softly, and taking up most of your bed.

It wasn't hard to. The full sized bed was hardly big enough for you, let alone two people, especially not someone as tall and broad as Ben. Which became more obvious when you noticed that Ben's feet were hanging off the end.

You sigh, laying on your back and staring up at the cracks in your ceiling, unable to fall asleep. You followed each one with your eyes, tracing the shapes they made like someone watching the clouds on a hill bathed in sunlight. You'd thought that after everything Ben and you did for the past two hours you'd be able to fall asleep as easily as he did, but you couldn't because your mind was awake and roaming everywhere it could.

It wasn't that you hadn't had a good time with Ben or hadn't wanted to have sex with him. Ben didn't force you into anything. You wanted to have sex with him. You had missed him and it had been a while for you, and you liked Ben. The problem was that now, after, there was an odd feeling stirring in the pit of your stomach, something that felt surprisingly like guilt.

I have nothing to be guilty about.

You chide yourself, hands curling and uncurling on the edge of the blanket the longer you stared up at the ceiling. But it was still there, bubbling up beneath the surface. Your mind kept slipping back into the memory of Dean and you in the broken auditorium.

Each time you closed your eyes you were back in Dean's arms, looking up at him while he pushed your hair out of your face and asked you if you were alright, his eyes filled with something that looked suspiciously like worry. He'd never acted gentle or caring like that before with you and you still felt odd from everything that happened.

Fuck. What is happening to me? I just spent the last two hours with Ben, I shouldn’t be thinking about anyone else but-

You sigh again and shut your eyes, but it just brings the image back to haunt you.

You hadn't had any thoughts like this about Dean, not ever, and you didn't know why now. You'd spent years thinking that he was a big jerk who hated you, but the Dean you saw earlier today was far from that.

In the past, Dean had your back a few times, but it hadn't been like earlier. He'd never held you close, covered you with his body as if he didn't care what happened to himself as long as you were safe, and he'd never brushed your hair away with such tenderness it made your heart flutter in your chest.

No. Dean has been a total dick from the moment I met him, he hates me, he-

The thought stutters to a stop when the hurt and jealousy in Dean's eyes when you kissed Ben comes flashing back through your mind.

Does he? Or did I just interpret that wrong? Maybe it was just the hatred he had towards Ben flaring but… why does he hate Ben? He has no reason to.

But despite everything that Dean had done to you over the years, you didn't hate him.

Even though he tap danced on your last nerve whenever he opened his mouth and often made you feel stupid you couldn't, not when you saw the way he cared so much for other people. Dean Winchester was selfless, he always put other people first and was willing to sacrifice himself if it meant someone else got to be happy and got to live.

You glance at the man lying in the bed next to you. Ben was handsome and strong. He possessed some of the qualities of Dean that you found attractive, but he treated you differently. It was what drew you to him when you got trapped in Ben's reality, not just that he looked like Dean, but that Ben joked with you, teased you, and he seemed to generally care about you.

Dean didn't act that way with you. At least, you'd never seen Dean act that way before today. Today was different than any other day and you wished that it hadn't been.

Ben mutters something else, and this time he leans more towards you, his arm coming up around your waist to hold you against his side. The warmth and weight of it was familiar, but it made the feeling of guilt grow larger in your stomach.

Why is this happening? I didn’t feel guilty the last time I had sex with him.

Your eyes trace the way his dark hair has fallen into his face and over the pillow, and you reach up to push some of the strands back from his face. But with it comes the ghost of how you wanted to do the same thing to Dean earlier, that your fingertips had itched to feel his brownish golden hair in your hands.

Before he'd drifted off Ben had asked you to come with him when Cas sent him back to where he was from, said that he wanted you there with him. You had an inkling that it was the first time that Ben had asked something so serious from a woman. But you weren't convinced that it was because Ben wanted to have a relationship, rather that he didn't want to be alone.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't considering it. Ben was kinder to you, gentle (in his own way), and he seemed to appreciate having you around. But there was something holding you back.

At first you thought it was Sam. He was your best friend and you didn't want to abandon him, but there was another feeling, an ache deep down that you didn't know the cause of. Other than Sam there really wasn't anything in this universe that would hold you back from going with Ben, but obviously there was, you just couldn't figure out what.

Sure Ben's reality was fucked up… yours was too. Demons and Angels duking it out for supremacy while other creatures hid under beds and in the dark to kill people or worse wasn’t ideal either. But you weren't sure what your life could look like there. There wasn't anything to hunt which meant you'd probably be dealing with supes instead and the thought wasn’t appealing. You weren't sure that you belonged in his world.

Maybe I should have asked him to stay with me?

The thought made you bite the inside of your cheek. You'd been thinking about moving out of the bunker. Yes it was the only permanent home you'd ever known, but Dean was getting on your nerves and you thought that maybe you should get a little bit of distance from him. Moving out and Ben staying meant that he could come with you on hunts, but you weren't sure that was the solution either. Ben was strong and brave, but you weren't sure that he had the precision or the delicate side you needed when approaching a hunt to do well here.

It was these thoughts that were keeping you awake and you decide to get some water to clear them.

You slowly begin to slip out from under the covers, gently moving Ben's arm off of you as slowly as you can as to not wake him before you make your way to your dresser to find a clean pair of panties and an oversized t-shirt. Ben sighs and shifts in the bed, the sheets pulling down just a little bit so you can admire the expanse of his freckled muscular back.

You'd seen Dean shirtless before once. He had come running out of his room with his gun drawn when you'd stubbed your toe on your bedside table and yelled. He hadn't put on a shirt before coming into your room, just aggressively kicked down the door wearing only a pair of hotdog pajama pants that you did mock him relentlessly for afterward. You didn't know why he'd looked so frantic when you yelled. It was just a toe after all. There wasn't anything for him to be worried about. Sam had showed up maybe ten minutes later rubbing the sleep from his eyes not worried at all.

But you'd remembered how Dean had looked shirtless. Sometimes the thought came flying into your mind at the most inopportune times, when Dean pissed you off and stuck his face so close to yours that you could feel his breath against your lips and the warmth of his skin through he air. The thought of him shirtless with his pajama pants hung so low on his hips that you could see every single hard defined muscle of his abdomen including the ones that made smart girls like you stupid.

You slipped on the clothes, but stop before you open the door to cast one more glance at Ben.

Although you knew that Ben and your relationship was more physical, there was a part of you that believed it could grow into something more if you went with him, something that you'd been wanting for a little while. Not just Ben specifically, but with someone.

Yes you were lonely, and Ben lessened the ache whenever he was around, but sometimes you wanted more than this and being a hunter didn’t help at all.

You never met anyone or tried to have a real relationship with anyone in a long time. The last permanent boyfriend you'd had wasn't a hunter, but someone you'd met in a bar after a hunt with Dean and Sam. It lasted Four months. Four months of you missing anniversaries, dates, and his birthday. He'd accused you of cheating on him with Sam and you'd found him in bed with his work partner when you'd tried to surprise him one weekend. You hadn't been surprised. Surprising was when the guy had tried to follow after you and both Dean and Sam had blocked his path and told him to "get lost." That was putting it nicely.

Sam had to hold Dean back from breaking the guy's arm when he shouted over the two of them at you that you "weren't worth the trouble." You didn’t understand why Dean was also just as pissed at the idea of the guy cheating on you as Sam.

You shake off the thought and tiptoe out of the room in the direction of the kitchen.

The bunker was silent, the metal floors cool beneath your bare feet as you walked down the desolate hallways. You glance at Dean's closed door for a moment as you pass and the feeling in the pit of your stomach tightens. A flash of the emotions on his face when you kissed Ben in the car and at the school flickers through your mind and you clench your jaw.

What the hell is wrong with me?

When you enter the kitchen you realize that you're not alone. Dean is leaning over the metal table his large hands braced on the top, his back to you, and his head bowed. A bottle of expensive whiskey sits on the counter in front of him next to a glass with the maple colored liquid inside. But the weird thing was that this wasn't the usual stuff Dean drank. This was the bottle that he had Sam hide from him for emergencies, the stuff that you'd only seen Dean drink when he was really upset and nothing else would cut it.

But what?

He turns when he hears you walk in.

You watch his eyes darken slightly as they skate over what you're wearing making your cheeks flush. You didn’t think he was still awake. If you had, you would have wore more than your favorite Metallica t-shirt that was worn soft from years of wear. Dean's gaze catches on the end of it where it hits mid-thigh, lingering a second too long, and makes something spark in your chest.

"Sorry. I was just getting some water." You clear your throat awkwardly.

"Romeo didn't get it for you?" Dean frowns as if the thought of Ben is an annoyance to him.

"No, he's asleep." You shake your head. "I thought you were asleep too-"

"Kinda hard to be sweetheart when the two of you are shooting a porno in the room next door to mine."

You feel your cheeks flush an even brighter pink. You didn't know that Ben and you were being that loud. The bed was a little squeaky, but you hadn't worried about the sound. The icky feeling in the pit of your stomach is back, the guilt rising in a wave the more you realize how much Dean heard.

Again? Why am I guilty? Ben and I had fun, he didn't force me to do anything. I wanted to have sex with him but-

"I'm sorry. I didn't know we were being that loud." You shake off the feeling and move around Dean to get a glass from one of the shelves.

"Guess he was making up for lost time huh? All those lonely months away from you fucking other women were hard I guess." Dean's words bite through the air and made your own temper flare up.

"He's not cheating on me. We weren't exclusive-"

"But you haven't been with anyone since you came back from his world."

Your hand freezes around the glass you reached for on the shelf. Why did he notice that? And why does he care?

The flicker of emotion in Dean's eyes when you kissed Ben in the auditorium comes roaring back, jealousy and hurt. It makes the guilt worse.

You let out a breath to calm the anger that wishes to bite back at Dean's comment. "Look, I know that you don't like him, but Ben isn't a bad person and even though it's not any of your business, we had fun."

You don't know why you felt the need to justify what you'd done with, but the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Standing here in front of Dean felt awkward, and it never had before. And it wasn't just because of what you were wearing, there was something else charging the air between the two of you. You were expecting a giant purple elephant to appear in the corner.

Dean chuckles, his eyes dark. "Did you now?"

"Yes." You reply, but you can't hold his gaze, not when he's looking at you like that.

Dean takes a long swig from the glass in front of him, his lips curling on the edges in a cruel smirk. This was the Dean you saw more often, the one that made you feel like a failure and a bother, but it was the first time that you longed to see the soft Dean who protected you from the fallen debris.

"I could hear just how much fun the two of you were having sweetheart." He continues. "But the man who isn’t a bad person toasted a woman that he slept with without batting an eye. Imagine what he'd do to you."

"A woman who was going to kill me." You say to defend Ben. "And he wouldn't hurt me."

Dean's eyes flick down to your thighs, his gaze hardening. "What do you call those?"

You glance down at the place where your shirt meets your thighs and notice the bruises. There were five on each leg and each was a perfect imprint of Ben's fingertips. They didn't hurt and you certainly hadn't felt or noticed them before Dean pointed them out.

But you knew that Ben would never hurt you. He wasn't like that.

Sure he killed that woman today, but she was crazy and she was trying to kill me and-

"He didn't it on purpose. He's stronger than us and sometimes-"

"Don't you dare make excuses for that asshole." Dean growls eyes flashing. "I don't care if he didn't do it on purpose, he still did it. He knows how strong he is and if he can't control himself he shouldn't be sleeping with you!"

"You're being ridiculous!" Ice clinks against the sides of your glass as you make your way back towards the sink.

"No, I'm not. And I want him gone!"

"Oh really?" You snark while placing the glass under the running water in the sink. "I had no idea. You've been so calm and collected since the moment Ben showed up."

Dean opens his mouth to respond, but instead huffs out a breath and pours himself another glass. The amber colored liquid splashes against the sides of the cup as Dean violently picks it up to take another drink.

An uncomfortable silence settles over the kitchen.

The water is cold, but you can't feel it when you take a sip, and you still can't quite look at Dean.

If he really is jealous, why can't he just come out and say it? Why is he being so stubborn and nitpicking someone else?

You sigh quietly to yourself and take another sip of water. The guilt was building again, prickling beneath your skin and bringing an uncomfortable sensation in the pit of your stomach the longer you stand there.

Why am I guilty? Dean being jealous has nothing to do with me and everything to do with him!

You think about going back to your room and being done with it, but you can't something is keeping you in that kitchen with Dean just as something is keeping him there with you.

"He-um-" You swallow. "He asked me to back with him to his universe." 

Dean's entire body tenses as he explodes. "What? Are you fucking kidding me!?"

"No I-"

"Are you seriously considering that?" He demands looking at you like you're crazy.

"Yes. I am." You answer him honestly. There's something hidden beneath the surface that makes you want to tell Dean this. You're not sure if it's morbid curiosity or if it's something else, something that you can't quite place, but you want Dean to tell you what he thinks.

"But why?! You've known that asshole for five days!" Dean snaps back, but you can hear something in his voice, almost as if he's holding himself back from saying something else.

Dean please just say it! Don't keep it in!

"He's not an asshole, he's just rough around the edges." You shrug continuing to make excuses for Ben and thinking about the bruises on your thighs.

"Oh please." Dean rolls his eyes so far into the back of his head you wonder how they didn't get stuck on his brain. "If I took a piece of tree bark and ran it along his arm, he'd make it smooth."

"But-"

"Sam told me that you were unhappy here, but I didn't think you would throw your entire life away to be with that asshole!"

His words make you hesitate for a moment in surprise.

Sam told him that I was thinking about leaving? Why did he tell Dean that?

"What life Dean?" You shout, throwing your arms out to gesture to the entire room. "I don't have anything here! I can't keep a relationship because I let people down. I don't know who my dad is because he walked out on my mom as soon as he found out she was pregnant. My mom died four years ago. I go to bed every night wishing for something else to happen but-" Frustrated tears were burning in your eyes now.

You didn't want to cry in front of him, but the urge to was overpowering everything else, the emotions you tried to keep down for so long beginning to curl and reform from the dark recessive parts of your mind where you buried them the night you met Dean Winchester.

"You deserve better than that asshole!" Dean shouts over you taking another step in your direction.

"Oh and what do you think I deserve Dean? Are you saying that I deserve someone like you?

Dean grits his teeth in frustration, anger blazing behind his eyes. "No I-" He finds his words. “I can’t believe you slept with him.”

"Oh good! That dinosaur. Falling back on something familiar, what a typical Dean Winchester move!" You gesture wildly with your hands sloshing water onto the floor. "I don’t understand why you’re so upset about it. We’re both consenting adults. He didn’t force me to do anything.”

You put down the cup to avoid throwing the glass at him.

“I just don’t see why you did it!” He towers over you, his body pulled taunt with his own anger and frustration.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You shouldn’t be sleeping around with people like him!”

Is he out of his MIND?!

"Why not?" You demand, fists curling into balls at your sides because you know that it's not safe to put them anywhere else. The anger that was flaring in your chest was starting to rival how you felt the last time that Dean and you had an argument and you broke his nose. And it had just finished healing a few days ago.

"Because he treats you like a piece of meat!" Dean shouts it so loud you can hear the frying pans hanging in the kitchen clink together

"Do you even hear yourself? I have seen you in bars picking up women after a hunt-"

You had. Countless times. The bravado Dean had when the three of you were still floating on the adrenaline that was pumping through from a hunt you'd seen first hand in the bars where Sam and you sat at a one of the high top tables watching him weave through the crowds with the sound of classic rock blaring over the crackly speakers. You watched Dean find another woman for the night, saw how he tried his best lines and got what he wanted while you sat in the motel room next to his trying to read beside a sleeping Sam and avoid the noises coming from next door.

"This is different!" He fumes.

"How is it different Dean? I want to know!"

Is it different because he's jealous? Or did I just imagine that?

You didn't think that you did.

Dean's face is bright red with the force of his anger and you're sure yours must be too given how it feels like it's on fire.

"He's always touching you or kissing you, putting his fucking hands on you!" Dean's jaw is clenched tight.  "I've never heard him give you one compliment other than how you look-"

You laugh in his face, but it comes out crueler than you meant it to. "In contrast to how many compliments you give me? Because I don't think there's been any of those."

"I compliment you." He huffs back.

"Oh really?" You scoff. "When?"

Dean is quiet for a minute. His eyes drag over you again, but this time the sweep of them bring a heat vibrating against your skin and your throat gets tight. "I like your shirt."

"HA!" You shout triumphant holding up a finger. "That's looks based."

"You didn't let me finish!" He scrambles. "I like your shirt because I like that band too and you have okay taste in music."

"Oh wooowwww. I have "okay taste in music" let me just swoon right here." You wave your hand back and forth. "Fuck you. I have awesome taste in music!"

"That's not what I-"

"And who is it that should I be sleeping around with? You?!" You roll your eyes trying to take a step away from him, but he moves to intercept you.

His fists are clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles are white. “I didn’t say that! Don’t put words in my mouth.”

His green eyes darken as he stares down at you, the fluorescent lights above the two of you catching the familiar hard lines of his face. Even though Dean looked like Ben, he still looked like himself in his own way. The familiar crows feet that graced under his eyes, the subtle tilt of his head, the rough stubble that pebbled over his chin and cheeks, the soft freckles, and the green eyes that you always found on you. There was a small scar just barely visible on the bridge of his nose and a few flecked on the edges of his face that made him more handsome.

You'd noticed how handsome he was in the past, but never like this. You'd never looked at Dean as other than someone who annoyed you. And yes he was annoying you now, but there was something else that you could feel threatening to explode, something you buried deep down and refused to unearth.

“I’m not putting words in your mouth Dean, I’m trying to figure out why this is such a big deal to you!”

Why is it a big deal?

“It just is!"

"Why? Because you're jealous?!" You hadn't meant to say it, but Dean's body goes taunt again.

"I am not jealous. I just don’t want you sleeping with him!”

“I think you are! And you’re not my dad Dean. You don’t get to decide who I sleep with!” You'd had enough of hearing him yell at you, of hearing him bitch about something that wasn't any of his business.

Who does he think he is? We're not together.

“That’s not what this is about-“

“Then what is it about Dean?! Why are you so hung up on something that is none of your business?!”

"It is my business!"

"How? How is it your business? Because you think that Ben is you somehow?"

"He is me!" Dean roars again and you wished he would stop saying it, because it was snagging on something in your chest.

A lie that you told yourself when you first started sleeping with Ben. You knew it. That you liked Ben because he looked like Dean and he appreciated you, that he didn't make you feel stupid, or ugly or not worth his time.

"No, he's not!" You shout back shaking off the feelings for what you hope is the final time. “Why do you care so much about this?!”

“Because I-“ Dean shouts, eyes narrowed at you. “Because I just do!”

“WHY?” You poke your finger into his chest. “I don’t care who you think you are. You don’t get to tell me who I can and cannot sleep with!"

“I’m not trying to!”

“Yes you are! And I am so sick of your bullshit Winchester. This is none of your business. None of this is. It's my life! So why don't you just take your unneeded opinion and-"

The rest of your sentence evaporates into thin air as Dean grabs your shoulders so tight you're sure they're be bruises and pulls you in for a searing kiss.

Your body is frozen in shock, the warmth of his lips against yours holding a softness that you'd never known.

Everything about this kiss is different than the ones you'd share with Ben. You knew better than to compare them, but Ben kissed like he meant to devour you. He wasn't hesitant or afraid to take what he wanted when he kissed you, but Dean?

Dean kissed like he wanted you to understand and that he wished to understand himself. Dean's kiss was passionate, filled with enough emotion that it left you breathless. Ben was never afraid to take what he wanted but Dean, he was almost asking, trying to let you understand, and trying to listen to what you wanted.

But just as he deepens the kiss you push him away and slap him across the face. The sharp sound rings through the kitchen and for a moment all you can do is stare at him shocked while the red mark on his face forms.

"What the hell was that for?" Dean shouts, but the emotion in his eyes wasn't anger, it was hurt.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" You shout back still out of breath. The ghost of his lips presses against yours and the taste of the whiskey remains on the tip of your tongue.

"I thought that-" He clears his throat, eyes widening.

"Thought what?"

"That you wanted me to-"

"To what? Kiss me?" The frustration was building again, because yes it had felt good to kiss him, but you hated that he was doing this now. That after years of him hating you, now when you had the possibility of being happy Dean was making this harder for you.

"Well-"

"No." You poke your finger into his chest, and this time you can't hold back the tears. They slip from your eyes, hot against your skin, as you feel every emotion that you'd kept bottled up beginning to surge up in a wave. "You don't get to do this Dean. Not now. Not after years of you treating me like shit."

Dean sighs and reaches for you, but you pull back from him. Hurt flashes in his eyes again and you can feel your own in the center of your chest. "I didn't-"

"Yes, you did. Damn it Dean, I'm not some shiny toy the two of you can fight over."

"That's not what I'm doing!"

"Then why now?" You ask in a half sob.

Dean pauses. "What?"

"Why after years of you hating me-"

"I never hated you." Dean's voice is more of a whisper than anything else.

"Oh bullshit. Yes you do!" You raise your hand to scrub at your cheeks, the tears falling quicker now.

It was the first time that you'd allowed yourself to cry in front of him, and you were fighting the urge to run back to your room. Ben was still there and you didn't know how the hell you were going to explain to you why you were crying.

"Will you just shut your damn mouth for five seconds and let me talk!?" He snaps running his hand through his hair, frustrated.

"Don't you dare tell me to shut up."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm going to break your nose again if you do!"

"You need to because I'm trying to explain-"

"Explain what? Explain that you've completely lost your mind? Explain that all the years of you undermining me, making me feel like a burden, teasing me, yelling at me, making me feel like I was stupid, and driving me absolutely insane, has just been you trying to say that you love me?!"

You hadn't meant to shout that at him. Hadn't meant to say the word love, but now it was there hovering in the air between the two of you. Dean's eyes are locked with yours and you don't think he's taken a breath since you spoke.

Because love was a little word, only four letters, but why did it always seem so heavy? How could one word have the same weight as a loaded gun? How could something so small cause so much pain and so much hurt?

"Yes." Dean looks down at the ground, not able to meet your eyes. He looks ashamed and you can't find the words to fill the silence.

Because Dean Winchester was in love with you. The man who you'd always thought hated you, who you thought wished that you were never around, and who you thought believed you to be an annoyance.

Holy shit.

"I-" He swallows. "I'm sorry. I didn't know how much I hurt you. All I wanted was for you to be safe and to talk to me the way you talk to Sam." His voice is quiet, just a soft rumble, but you can hear a tremor on the edge of his words. "I didn't mean to make you hate me."

The words strike you right in the center of your chest and it shocks you so much that you stop crying. You'd seen different sides of Dean before. Seen him angry, happy, annoyed, frustrated, sad… but Dean Winchester had never looked broken around you, not like this, and certainly not over you. Whenever something went wrong Dean would isolate himself from you in his room with a bottle of something to numb the pain. It made you feel like someone was gutting out your insides with a pitchfork.

The silence grows between the two of you again, and his head is still bowed and looking down at the floor in shame.

You exhale softly, controlled by something that you're not sure, and reach out towards Dean's face.

He flinches back from you, eyes rimmed red, looking at you suspiciously as if he believes you're going to break his nose. In hindsight, you supposed it was a reasonable fear to have since you'd done it in the past.

"What are you doing?" He asks, voice cracking. Dean's green eyes have dimmed, looking more like an aged jade pot that's sat outside in the sun for too long.

"Please shut up." You sniffle, the end of your mouth twitching into a smile, before you place your hands on the sides of Dean's face and pull him down to you.

The kiss is quick, only a brush of your lips against his to give yourself a taste and when it's done you pull back letting your hands fall to your sides. You're not sure why you did that. Maybe it's because Dean admitted to loving you and he looks like a lost puppy, but-

Dean steps forward into the space, his hands reaching towards your face, and you flinch.

“What are you-“

“Please shut up.” Dean murmurs, echoing the words you'd whispered to him moments ago.

His hands are rough and warm against your cheeks. Worn from years of carrying a gun in his hand and hard work he never shied away from. But they’re nothing but gentle against your skin as he pulls your face to his.

You could be standing on the surface of the sun and not feel as hot as you do now. A volcano could erupt and bathe you in lava and you would just scoff at it like it was a normal day, because kissing Dean feels infinite. It's all consuming. The scrub of his five o'clock shadow against your cheeks, the slide of his hands down your arms that bring goosebumps in their wake, the smell of his shampoo that you always catch when you walk into the bathroom, the nudge of his nose into your cheek, and the soft supple welcome of his lips that draw the breath from your lungs all take you somewhere otherworldly.

You couldn't stop. It was a compulsion, like magnets, like it was something you wanted to do for so long but buried it deep down to avoid the inevitable. Fueled by the belief that Dean would push you away, because Dean Winchester hated you.

But he didn't, he never did.  And in the kiss is something else, years of emotions the two of you pushed down, years of being frenemies of almost losing each other, years of ignoring what was developing between the two of you, and years of watching the other fall for the wrong person.

Dean moans softly into your mouth and picks you up, his muscular arms fitting under your legs to place you on the counter, not pulling away at all and stepping into the space between them to fit himself closer to you. Your hands come to the back of his head, tangling in the short strands at the nape of his neck, shuffling your nails through his hair in a way that makes Dean shudder and pull you tighter to his chest.

Dean pulls back from you out of breath, but rests his forehead against yours, as if any further is too far from you and he doesn't wish to ever let you go.

"I don't hate you Dean." You whisper before he can say anything. "I can't. And I was only with Ben because I thought that this could never happen because you hated me-"

Dean's lips fall against yours taking your next words with it. "I don't hate you. I never did."

"Then why?"

He sighs. "I hated that you were a hunter, that this was your life, that you'd been doing this for so long with no one helping you."

"I'm okay."

"I know that, but I-" Dean hesitates. "I shouldn't have done what I did, but I didn't think that you'd want this-"

"This?"

"Me." Dean closes his eyes leaning further against you, almost as if he can’t hold himself up.

"Why?" Your grip on the back of his neck tightens.

"Because I'm-" He tries to find the word. "I'm not perfect. I'm a jealous asshole. I've done terrible things, made you cry.” He sighs. “You deserve better."

You kiss him softly. "There is no one better. I'm not looking for perfect, I'm looking for human. There's nothing wrong with making a mistake and being imperfect. The imperfections are what make you, you." Your fingers curl into the hair at the nape of his neck. "Dean, you're not a bad person. You are the most selfless man I have ever met. And maybe you've messed up a few times, but I have too. Do you think I'm a bad person for the things I've done?"

There was a list of them that seemed to grow longer each day and it was difficult not to dwell on the things of the past. But standing here with Dean, watching the weight settle on his shoulders, while he told you that he didn't think he was enough for you made you throw it all away.

"No.”

“Do you think that I’m not deserving of love?”

“No. But-"

 You shush him. "Then don’t talk that way about the man I love."

Dean's eyes widen, but you watch the end of his lips twitch into a smile. "You love me?"

"Yeah." You whisper. "I think I always have, but I was afraid because you were-"

His mouth falls over yours so fast you don’t have time to finish the thought. "I love you too."

Your heart flutters in your chest with his words.

"Kinda hard not to." His thumbs stroke along your hip bone over the soft t-shirt sending electricity dancing along your spine.

You smirk. "You're right. I am pretty great."

"I think the word you're looking for is high maintenance." Dean smirks back at you.

"Aww… That means I'm out of your league and you're lucky to have me in your life." You giggle with a smile.

"I am." He murmurs, nudging his nose forward into yours moving in for another kiss.

Someone clears their throat from the other side of the room drawing your eye. Ben is leaning against the doorway dressed in his suit, watching where you're wrapped up in Dean's arms.

Any warm feelings you were having standing there with Dean immediately evaporate and the guilt comes roaring back. You'd forgotten that Ben was still here and you felt bad for him. You didn't want him to think that you used him.

"Ben I-" You begin to stutter, but he only shakes his head at you.

"You don't gotta explain anything doll, I know what this was." Ben smirks, but you see something flicker in his gaze for just a second before its gone.  "And I'm man enough to admit when I'm beat. Even if I don't like it."

"But-" You try to say again.

Oh this is so awkward.

"Don't do me any favors sweetheart, we had fun." Ben shrugs. "That's all this was."

Cas walks into the room with Sam at his heels, who looks much too smug when he spies where Dean has you on the counter. You push Dean back and stand up, while Dean shoots daggers with his gaze leveled at Sam.

Sam isn't phased, but chooses not to say anything.

Ben rolls himself off the doorway and walks confidently to where Dean and you are standing, extending his hand towards Dean. "You take care of her." Ben's eyes flick to you for a second before focusing more on Dean. "She's special."

The hand of guilt on your throat tightens just a little more, because somewhere you wondered if Ben really was as aloof as he seemed or if he had started to care about you a little more than he let on.

"I will." Dean's smile is forced, and you see him squeeze Ben's hand a little tighter as he does.  It only makes Ben smirk wider.

Cas begins to write the symbol on the floor taking care with each intricate detail to open the portal, but you stop him at the last minute.

"Wait." You take a step forward and hug Ben tightly. "Thank you."

"You're thanking me for fucking you?" Ben snorts throwing a smug look in Dean's direction that makes Dean bristle. "Guess I am a gift."

"Shut up." Your cheeks blaze bright red and you hear Dean growl something under his breath. "No, just thank you. For being here."

Ben hesitates. He raises his hand to your cheek, fingers tracing along your skin before he brushes away some of your hair. It was a gentle gesture from him, one that you weren't accustomed to. The emotion in his eyes shifts to something else, but he hides it with a smirk. "You're welcome sweetheart."

"Maybe you'll meet the me from your reality." You say, because you're not sure what else you can say, not when Ben is looking at you like that.

The entire situation was again reaching soap opera proportions and there was only so much you could take before you drove your car off a cliff.

The truth was, you did like Ben. You thought he was attractive, bold, strong, but there was always something a little gentle that lurked under the surface he never let anyone else see.

But you loved Dean. He understood what it was like to be a hunter, understood what it was like to not be able to live up to someone's expectations, and he loved you. You couldn't see a life with Ben, but you could see one with Dean. Ben didn't belong in your world and you didn't belong in his.

Ben's smirk twitches. "Maybe. But she won't be the same as you doll."

Dean clears his throat and steps forward to pull you back into his chest possessively. "I think your ride's leaving." You don't have to look up into his face to know he's frowning.

Ben chuckles. "You know what kid? You're alright." His eyes flick back to yours. "You give me a call if you get bored with him."

"She won't." Dean snaps. “And don’t call me kid.”

Ben only laughs at him and steps closer to Cas as he begins to finish the ritual and when the portal finally opens, Ben goes through without looking back.

And you don’t feel guilty anymore, because you knew that Ben understood.

"Finally." Dean breathes a sigh of relief that makes you snort, dropping his head to your shoulder. It was so casual that you had to remind yourself that Dean loved you and you loved him.

Sam clears his throat. "Hey Cas will you help me with something in the library-"

"What do you have to do in the library?" Cas frowns at him confused.

"Just something come on-"

"But why-"

"CAS!" Sam shouts casting an obvious look in the direction of where Dean and you are standing.

Cas looks at the two of you. "Are they coming with us to the library?"

Sam huffs out a frustrated breath and grabs Cas by the back of his trench coat to drag him out of the kitchen so Dean and you can have a few moments alone.

You snort at the confused look on Cas's face when Sam drags him out, before you turn your body in his arms to look up into Dean's handsome face. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous it is to be jealous of yourself?"

"I thought he wasn't me?" Dean smirks, his eyebrow arching with his tease. His fingers are resting resolutely on your hips, thumbs softly trailing in circles.

"He is a little bit." You admit defeated. "But don't look so smug Winchester."

"I think I'm allowed to be a little bit." His smirk grows and he leans his face down to yours. Instead of feeling angry at the appearance of his smirk it only makes you smile.

Standing here in the aftermath made you see Dean in a different light, made your heart buckle and jump in your chest the longer you stood there in the kitchen basking in the warmth that began to bloom in your chest.

"Maybe…" You gently touch the front of his buffalo print flannel, smoothing the fabric beneath your fingertips. It looked good on him, very little looked bad on Dean.

"Do you regret staying with me?" He mutters.

"What?" You glance back up to see his face and notice that he's not smiling, he's frowning at you, and his eyes aren't as bright.

Dean clears his throat. "Well you seemed like you were really going to miss him and-"

He doesn't get to finish his sentence. You throw your arms around his neck and pull him back down to you, putting you everything you have into the kiss, hoping that Dean can feel how you have no regrets staying with him, that all you want is him.

"Dean Winchester." You breathe, moving your hands to cup his cheeks so he can't look away from you. "I do not regret staying with you, because I love you." You pull him as close to you as you can, his warm hands splayed over your back. "This is where I belong." You kiss him on the tip of his nose. "And this is where you belong. With me."

Dean's eyes warm the longer you hold his gaze. "I'm starting to believe you."

"Anything that I can do to convince you?"

"I can think of a few things…"

Ben/Soldier Boy POV

"Stupid, fucking piece of shit!" Ben growled at the computer monitor in front of him that had a bright red ERROR message splayed across it.

It had been two days since he'd left your reality, and he was trying his best to shove away the disappointment at the fact that you hadn't decided to come back with him. It wasn't that Ben wanted more than what the two of you had, it was that he liked having someone to talk to or try to talk to, and you were a good listener.

He didn’t like opening up to people, but there was something about you. He could trust you and Ben hadn't found anyone he could trust since he got back from Russia.

Ben also wasn't about to admit that he was lonely, he had plenty of women who were eager to warm his bed, but there was something about you that always made him feel different. He wasn't sure what that was exactly.

He'd also be lying if he said that he had wanted to explore it a little more if you'd come with him to his reality. The thought of you staying with him for an extended period of time in his apartment hadn't been unwelcome. Ben had never allowed other women to stay more than a day, but you… Ben would have let you stay as long as you wanted to.

Fuck.

He knew that he wasn't in love with you, but Ben knew he liked having you around. He liked being friends with you and he liked fucking you.

And yes he was disappointed that you had chosen Dean instead of him, but at the same time Ben didn't blame you. You had a history with Dean and when you'd been forced into Ben's reality, you'd talked to him a lot about Dean. Ben knew that you liked Dean more than you cared to admit.

But there was still an unwelcome feeling in the pit of his stomach that Ben wasn't accustomed to.

Ben huffed out a breath to push away the thoughts, while looking at what was left of the keyboard on his desk. The keys were scattered across the wooden top like bits of confetti, broken easily underneath his large fingertips when he'd tried to write an email

When he'd come back from Russia, Ben had taken a job working for the Department of Supe Affairs, but he was "grounded" due to the "anger issues" that he swore he didn't have, and because he didn't listen to Butcher whenever he gave him an order.

I don't need to follow orders. I'm Soldier Boy! I should be giving the orders!

Basically it meant that he was stuck on a desk indefinitely until Annie January, the new department head, released him. She'd also ordered that Ben go to company mandated therapy sessions once a week. He'd refused to go, but after Annie threatened him with termination of his contract, which meant that Ben would have gone back to being someone who "looked like someone who used to be famous," he'd gone to therapy.

And he refuses to admit this to anyone… but he liked it. Someone who was paid to listen to him bitch for a whole hour about whatever pissed him off and actually kept their trap shut was just what he needed.

Sometimes it reminded him of when he would talk to you, but there were still things that he refused to tell anyone and some of those things he had told you.

Ben ran his hand through his hair frustrated at his predicament. He would have liked to go into the field and take out some of his frustration on another supe, but Annie refused to give.

Ben didn't like listening to women, but even he had to admit Annie had a set of brass balls and he respected her for it. She didn’t take shit from anyone and especially didn't listen to Ben's bitching over why he should be in the field instead of being chained to a desk.

"Oi you all right mate?" Butcher calls and Ben can hear the shit eating grin without looking up from his computer screen.

The error message was still displayed in bright red letters, mocking him.

Ben knows that Butcher doesn't give a shit, and is probably about to start teasing him about his inability to adapt to modern day technology.

It wouldn't be the first time.

"Don't you have something better to do? Like fucking that little bitch that Annie is ploughing?" Ben spits back, clicking on the mouse but all it does is bring up another error message in another language.

"Oh mon ami, that doesn't look good." Frenchie walks by to stare at the computer screen that has now gone slightly fuzzy.

"I don’t think that's going to fix it mate." Butcher laughs. " But I called IT."

"I don’t need any of those four-eyed fucks helping me!" Ben snaps turning to narrow his eyes at Butcher.

He's holding a white cup of tea, wearing his usual long trench coat and Hawaiian shirt, with the shit eating grin that Ben knew Butcher was going to have when he looked up.

The last thing Ben needed was some nerd telling him everything that he did wrong. He was already on a first name basis with the director of the IT department, who was a little weasel of a man and who no longer picked up the phone when Ben called to yell at him.

"I think you're gonna want to listen to this particular four eyed fuck. She's new." Butcher gloats. "But don’t say I never did anything for you Soldier Boy."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Ben shouts at Butcher's back, but he's already gone.

Ben turns back to the error message that has begun to flash an even brighter red and now has a countdown.

"Fuck, fuck fuck-" Ben growled and to remedy the situation he puts his fist through the computer screen. It makes a high pitched electrical popping sound, showering his desk in sparks, while the overhead lights flicker, before the screen goes completely black.

Ben was not stupid, but he was a little slow when it came to modern day technology. He was doing better than he had initially, but it was taking him a longer time to understand using his desktop computer at work than his cell phone.

"Hi, I'm from IT. Mr. Butcher called and said that you might need a little help." The voice was small and tentative, coming from somewhere on Ben's left.

"I don't need any help. Especially not from a fucking four-" Ben started to growl, but then he looked up and the words died in his throat.

Because the person standing next to his desk was you.

This version of you looked different. Ben was used to seeing someone in old band t-shirts, worn blue jeans, and flannel shirts, someone who carried themselves confidently and had a hardness surrounding their outer exterior that simply said "don't fuck with me."

But this version of you was softer and a little gentle. Your hair was longer and pushed back from your face by a simple black headband, you were wearing dark framed glasses, an oversized cardigan sweater that covered a simple pair of blue jeans, a striped blouse, and a pair of dark blue converse. The converse made Ben smile. He hadn't seen anyone wearing Chuck Taylors in a little while and it was a welcome sight, something from the past that he actually recognized.

The version of you Ben knew from Dean's universe flashed through Ben's mind again. She was more confident and outgoing, but you looked a little shy, hiding back in the cardigan and using the iPad in your hands as a welcome distraction to looking Ben in the eyes and like a shield.

He thought it was cute.

As much as Ben liked the version of you he knew who didn't shy away from anything, Ben found himself smiling at this one. You were definitely more soft spoken and a little less confident, but Ben could see a sweetness and sincerity in your eyes that he hadn't come across since he came back to the US.

It was the thing that always made him trust the other version of you, the part of him that made him want to tell the other version of you things that he hadn't told other people.

"I'm sorry." You say, even though you have nothing to be sorry about. "I-"

"No. I'm sorry." Ben clears his throat awkwardly and for the first time in a long time he feels nervous. He wasn't sure why that was, not to mention he never apologized to anyone, ever, but he didn't want to scare you away.

"It's okay." You give him a soft smile. "Computers can be frustrating, but sometimes it’s better not to put your fist through the screen."

Ben chuckles. "Probably not my best work."

You shake your head, a wider smile on your face, the motion of it sending the smell of your perfume over him, something floral and a little old fashioned. You look at the remnants of the computer and bite the inside of your cheek deep in thought.

Ben found himself tracing the furrow of your brows and the scrunch of your nose. You were beautiful in every reality to him.

"Well, Mr. Soldier Boy I don't think-"

"Please call me Ben." He interrupts.

Ben wondered if you were this shy all the time and if you'd be just as shy if he took you to bed. He wanted to find out.

Ben had slept with many women in his lifetime and he was usually drawn to women who were more confident and outgoing, sure of themselves, but there was something about your shy attitude that Ben found attractive.

"Ben." You say it in the soft voice of yours, cheeks flushed a little bit as if you're embarrassed to say it. "I don't think that there's anything I can do for this." Your hand waves over the computer. "But I can go talk to my boss and tell him you need another one."

"I'll go with you." Ben stood up.

He didn’t want to let you out of his sight, not when a part of him worried that you weren’t really there or you would evaporate into nothing before his very eyes.

"Oh, it's okay. You don't have to-" You stammer, shaking your head, and not quite looking at him as if making eye contact was a little harder for you.

"I want to." Ben smiles at you. He hears your heart beat quicken and can hear the small intake of breath you have when he smiles. "He's an asshole and I don't want him to chew you out for something I did." Ben explains.

It was partly true. The guy was an asshole. Not to mention, Butcher had said it was your first day and Ben wasn’t going to stand by and have the head of the IT department screaming at you when you had done nothing wrong.

"Oh." You clear your throat, cheeks blushing that cute pink color that makes Ben smile wider. "Well if you'll just follow me."

He hadn’t met someone like you in a long time. And even though he liked the other version of you, Ben was starting to like this one more.

"To the ends of the Earth doll." Ben winks and watches the flush of your cheeks deepen to a crimson and hears the way your heart buckles and jumps when he does.

And the longer he stands there watching you blush, Ben begins to feel an odd feeling flicker in the pit of his stomach racing up into his chest that he’d never felt before and for the first time in a long time Ben was curious to see where it could lead.

A/N: Alright we made it to the end and everyone got a happy ending! Thank you again everyone for all the love and support while I was writing this mini-series 💗

Reveal of the Poll:

🥫: Meeting the reader from Ben's Universe in a grocery store.

💻: Meeting the reader from Ben's Universe in the IT department.

Personally I liked the IT more, and the problem is now I really like the shy reader with Ben. They are so cute and now I'm hyperfixated on Ben with a shy reader so we'll see where that goes 🤣

Thank you so much for reading! As always likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated, but are not required. I love hearing what y'all think!

Taglist For It's Not A Big Deal:

@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @livya99 @zepskies

@winchesterwild78 @ladykitana90 @spnfamily-j2 @whyyouegg

@suckitands33 @pizzagirlxnsfwx @s0uz4s @schinug @just-levyy

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @minas-fantasies @ladysparkles78

@mochminnie @peachhiz

@impala67stellawinchester @nancymcl @lunaleah @lightdancingwords @kamisobsessed

@justwhisperingfantasies @lunaleah @kamisobsessed @kmc1989 @djudy99

@chriszgirl92

@toxicfataldestiny @im-bili @anniebannanie0315 @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @schinug

@shara-ne @gaida-511 @xxmusic13luverxx @bakugotypecrashout @n-o-p-e-never

@thoughtfullyfurryangel @youroldfashioned

@marvelgeeka @myceliumsunshine @hobby27

@funkenniffler

[make-me-imagine]

Our Little Secret

Prompts: "If there was ever anybody meant for me, it's you." + "I think…everyone deserves a chance to prove themselves” & Mar 12: Crowley checks in to make sure you are alright (no third prompt). Requested By: Three separate Anons.

Pairing: Crowley x GN!Reader; Y/n insert *maybe slightly ooc Crowley, who is a bit more "human" and lovesick.

Warnings: Brief mentions of injury; and a kiss at the end.

Words: 1.6k

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @caswinchester2000, @imaginesfire, @rexit-mo Supernatural Taglist: @kaashi, @witchygagirl

-

Crowley looked around the dingy hotel room, ignoring the quick turns of Sam and Dean as they drew their guns on him. Also ignoring their displeased groans, he clicked his tongue. "Lovely choice. Always a fan of the mysterious stains on the ceilings." He said with a smirk as he turned to the boys.

"What the hell are you doing here Crowley?" Dean asked.

Crowley shrugged lightly. "Bored?"

Sam squinted at him, giving Dean a look showing his disbelief. "Uh-huh. What do you want?" Sam asked.

Crowley lifted his arms in an open gesture. "Who said I wanted anything?"

"Well, you sure as hell didn't come just to check in on us."

"What if I did? Maybe I've grown fond of our time together" Crowley said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. His eyes cast over the room behind Sam and Dean. "You two aren't fun anyways, where is Y/n, my lovely little hunter go off on their own?" He asked casually, looking down and flipping through a journal on the table.

Dean walked over, slamming it shut, as he eyed Crowley. "Sorry Crowley, Y/n's not here for you to torture with your charm."

"How disappointing. Why's that. Did Y/n get tired of you two, and leave the nest? I'd applaud if they did."

Dean rolled his eyes as Sam adjusted himself awkwardly, looking between Dean and Crowley. "Y/n wasn't able to come on this hunt." He said casually, but noted how Crowley's attention grew as he turned to face Sam.

"And why's that?" He asked.

Sam furrowed his brow, noting the seemingly genuine curiosity in his voice. He looked over at Dean, who seemed to be distracting himself with something.

Looking back at Crowley he shrugged his shoulder. "Y/n got hurt on the last case, and had to stay back at the bunker to recover."

"Well I'm surprised they've made it this far, most in your company don't make it a year."

Sam was almost thrown by the amount of malice in Crowley's voice. Maybe he really hadn't been joking all those times he showed interest in you, and maybe 'his little hunter' wasn't just a teasing nickname after all.

"Hey!" Dean say turning around to face him. "If you aren't here for any real purpose, beat it, we've got a job to do."

Crowley shrugged. "Fine"

Sam and Dean let out breaths of relief when Crowley vanished from the room. Dean returning to his previous tasks, paying no more thought to Crowley. But Sam had a nagging feeling that he knew exactly where Crowley was going.

- - -

"So this is how you spend your days of recovery?"

You jumped as Crowley's voice came from nowhere, causing you to turn in surprise. You winced and let out a hiss of pain as you grumbled out in anger. "Don't do that."

Crowley frowned as he rounded the couch, seeing you adjust yourself with a pained expression. Pausing the show you had on the tv, you looked up at him. "What the hell are you doing here anyways?" You asked, trying to ignore your quick paced heartbeat, or the way you felt a chill crawl up your spine as Crowley looked you over.

"Came to check in. Heard from rocky and bullwinkle that you got yourself hurt."

"I didn't get myself hurt." You excused. "A building practically collapsed on top of me, there was nothing I could do about that."

Crowley shrugged his head. "Would you like me to..." he trailed off as he wiggled his fingers.

You grimaced. "Not if you're gonna do that."

He put down his hands with a sot smile. "From the amount of pain you seem to be in, you should be begging for my help."

You rolled your eyes. "Oh you'd just love that wouldn't you?"

He cocked his head and his smile grew. "Immensely."

You let out a short laugh. "Now why are you seriously here? It surely wasn't just because you heard I got hurt."

Crowley let out an annoyed groan. "Why does no one believe I have feelings?"

You furrowed your brow, watching him carefully. "Because you have failed to show an ounce of emotion that was not tied directly to your own benefit?"

He let out a small breath. "Doesn't mean one can't change." His voice was unusually soft as he spoke. Turning he began to pace around the room. "I mean, sure, I'm a demon, The King of Hell. But, I've helped you and the Winchesters more times that I can count, and I've actually cared about the things I helped with. Well, somewhat. So does that not show, that I at least have some semblance of emotion?" He spun around to look at you, noting how bewildered you appeared.

"You really care how we see you don't you? When did that happen?"

Crowley straightened up a bit, and cleared his throat. "I don't know. But don't you think it's possible? That I have the possibility of being....better?"

You watched him for a moment, wading through the confusion that washed over you. You could see the genuine feeling of aggravation in his face. "I- I think....that everyone deserves a chance to prove themselves."

Crowley felt a soft smile cross his face as he walked over to you. Looking down at you, he paused before reaching for your shirt. You froze, feeling your heart hammer in your chest and heat rise up your neck. Lifting your shirt slightly, he could see an array of bandages and bruises. He winced a bit. "That doesn't look good."

Placing his hand on your side, you felt heat wash over you as his hand and your body briefly glowed. You closed your eyes until the light faded. And when you opened them, you reached down and pressed your hand against our side, noting the lack of pain.

Looking up at Crowley you spoke softly. "Is this you trying to prove yourself?"

He smirked. "Not necessarily. But it is me trying to show you why I wish to prove myself." You cocked your head in confusion, and he turned away from you, taking a few steps before he continued. "I lied. When I said I didn't know when I started to care how you saw me. Honestly, I don't care how those two dimwits see me. It's your opinion I care about." He turned back towards you. "And it started from the moment we met."

You shook your head softly in disbelief. "But...why, would you care what I thought?"

Walking back over to you, he stopped light in front of you, staring down into your eyes. Reaching up, he hooked his fingers under your chin, and you felt an unfamiliar wave of emotion flow through you.

"Because I find myself caring about you. About everything to do with you. Where you are. What you need. What makes you smile, or laugh. And when you get hurt. I feel angry, and scared."

"You? Scared?" You almost laughed.

"What I have been feeling. For you. Are...feelings I have not felt for a very, very, long time. If not ever. And no matter what you truly think of me. I know what I think."

You swallowed hard, as you kept your eyes locked with his. "And what's that?"

"I think, that, if there was ever anybody meant for me, it's you."

You felt as though your heart had an anchor on it, as it beat so heavily in your chest, you weren't sure if you could keep breathing.

"I-" You tried to speak, but could not find your voice.

He smiled, a soft, yet sad smile as he dropped his hand from your face. "You don't believe me."

You shook your head a bit, finding some ability to speak. "No, I...think I do believe you, but I'm not sure if I should."

"Because of all my past treachery? I can't say I blame you. But I am surprised at our reaction. No disgust, no yelling. It's almost as if...you knew, was I obvious?"

You shook your head, unsure if you should speak. Crowley cocked his head, before a flash of understanding crossed his face, and a smile slowly broke out.

"No. It's because you feel something too. But it, what? Scares you? Disgusts you?"

You shook your head again. "It doesn't disgust me."

"But it scares you?"

"I-I don't know."

He smiled again, before leaning down, bringing his face up to yours. You didn't move away, but kept your eyes locked with his. Bringing his hand back up, he caressed your cheek.

He spoke in a whisper. "No. It doesn't scare you. And that, is what scares you. But it's alright my little hunter, it can be our little secret." Leaning in, he suddenly pressed his lips against yours.

You tensed in surprise for a moment, before you felt your body relax. Your mind went blank as he deepened the kiss, his hand cupping your chin as you tilted your face up to meet his. His other hand gripped the back of your head.

Bringing your hand up, you wrapped it around his wrist as you returned the kiss, forgetting where you were, and just who you were kissing. Suddenly, your phone rang from beside you, bringing you back to reality.

Pulling away, you opened your eyes, meeting his dark brown ones. A smile spread across his face. "Better answer that, it's probably the dynamic duo checking in."

Almost thoughtlessly, you reached for your phone. Looking at the screen, you began to answer it but paused as Crowley brought his head down to your ear, whispering "But remember darling. Its our little secret."

Turning to look at him, you said nothing before you answered the phone. Aware of his eyes on you the whole time you spoke to Sam. You felt a peculiar itch at the back of your mind, a restlessness wanting you to hang up the phone, to continue what you had been doing before. But you pushed it away, and as you spoke to Sam, you knew there was no way in hell you could tell him anything that had happened, not now, and maybe not ever.

xx End xx

I hate how I ended it, but it had to stop at some point and I couldn't think of much lol.