#I quit Supernatural before Dean died because I read about it online and never watch the final episode | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets · 5 years ago

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A Magic Kingdom Love - CH 1

Title: A Magic Kingdom Love

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Destiel

Tags: fluff, just so much fluff. It gets a little heated at one point but that’s it.

Summary:

This is based off a picture I saw on Pinterest (which I’ll post below) with this prompt attached…

“An AU where Dean and Cas are both working for Disney and have been cast as the very first gay princes. And at first they hate each other but it’s hard to pretend you’re in love all day for sweet, shy kids, and then not makeout under the bridge of the magic kingdom castle.”

AO3 Link

Masterlist

Special Thanks: special thanks to @kitsunecastiel for cheering me on and reading this entire fic. And for always putting up with me, you’re awesome my sweet little sis ❤️

A/N:

So this is based off of a picture and a prompt that ARE NOT mine. I’ll post both at the end of the fic, and I don’t know who drew this glorious picture or who came up with the prompt but if anyone one knows who they are, I would love to know!!

Also a little note for y’all to keep in mind while reading. I have a super fluffy epilogue planned, but I’m not posting it here... yet. So, if you guys are interested in reading that then let me know in a comment, private message, or even shoot me an ask!

And if anyone is interested in being tagged in future destiel fics let me know :) Enjoy!!

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Chapter one:

“Dean Winchester?”

Dean looked up from his spot in the waiting room, he had been playing temple run on his phone for nearly two hours now, to finally meet eyes with the lady peeking her head out from the door across from him. “I’ll see you now, come on in, kiddo.”

Once she went back into the office, he took a steadying breath, then followed her in.

He closed the door behind him and ran through everything Sam had told him before he left that morning. Be polite, do not sit unless seated, strong and firm handshake but not too hard, sit straight, elbows off the table, eye contact, and smile.

He walked over to stand behind the chair placed at the desk across from her and waited, just as Sammy had told him. The lady behind the desk sat and eyed him with a smirk before gesturing to the seat and saying, “Have a seat, Dean.”

With a smile and a nod he did as he was told, and sat straight and poised in the seat across from her.

After eyeing him for a few more moments she smiled wide at him and held her hand out across the table, “My name is Ellen Harvelle, I'm the new casting manager here at Disney, nice to meet you.”

“And you,” Dean leaned forward to shake her hand, firm but not too hard, before sitting back in the chair, “I’ve been looking forward to this interview since I got the call.”

She flashed him another charming smile, then leaned in and crossed her arms on her desk speaking in a level tone, “I appreciate your enthusiasm, Dean, but before we start this interview I want to make one thing clear.” Dean shifted in his seat and nodded his understanding. “I understand that your uncle is the director of casting and character management here, and has been for a long ass time, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to give you any special treatment. You will get the same fair chance at this position just like everyone else I’ve interviewed today. Your uncle may be my boss but I will not let that interfere with this interview. We clear?”

“Crystal, ma’am.”

“Good.” She sat back and pulled out Dean’s file and resume, looking it over quickly before looking back up at Dean. “So tell me a little bit about yourself. And I don't mean work ethic and all that crap, but yourself, I wanna know you.”

“Alright,” Dean nodded, then thought for a second before chuckling slightly, “where do I even start?”

Ellen mirrored his laugh and said, “How about family, from what your uncle has told me I know you’ve got at least one brother. After all we are all about family here at Disney”

“Yeah,” he reached a hand back to his pocket and pulled out his wallet to lay it open on the table, “that's my little brother, Sammy.” He pointed to the picture he had taken of Sam on his first day of college four years ago. All bright eyed and ready to conquer the world of law.

Ellen took up the wallet and eyed the school name in the background, “Stanford?!” She whistled, “Your uncle talks about you boys quite a bit, but I didn't realize your brother went to Stanford. What’s he taking?”

“Law,” Dean beamed, “he’s home for summer right now, but he’s taking a bunch of online courses. Gunna be a hell of a lawyer, that kid.”

“You two sure are handsome boys,” she handed the wallet back to Dean, “and you just have the one brother, right?”

Dean nodded, “It's just me and Sammy. Our mom died when we were young and our dad went off the rails soon after, which is how we ended up in Bobby’s custody. He’s more of a father then an uncle to us.”

“But you boys live on your own right?”

“That’s right,” Dean flipped the pictures in his wallet and showed her another, “I bought that house when I turned twenty-one. It's a few streets down from Uncle Bobby’s, and when Sam comes home for summers between school he stays with me.”

“And what about you Dean?” He eyed her with with a furrowed brow, “You seem so proud of everything your brother’s doing, but what do you do? If you managed to buy a house then surely you have a decent job, so why do you want to change that and work at Disney?”

“When I graduated highschool I got a job at a local mechanics shop owned by a family friend. I’ve always loved cars and been good at fixing them. While I was there I specialized in custom restorations.” He flipped the pictures yet again to show her one of him leaning on the hood of his prized possession. “She's all mine that one. Found her out back at the shop and pulled her from the grave.”

“My goodness,” Ellen held the picture close to see every detail, “you did a hell of a job, she's a gorgeous car, Dean.”

“Yeah, my baby looks good,” he smiled at her.

“So, if you don't mind my asking,” Dean shook his head and waited for her to continue, “if you’re that good at restoring cars, why give it up?”

“Don't get me wrong, I love the job, but,” he ran a hand through his hair, “I never wanted it as a job, it was more of a hobby, something to help me relax. The only reason I took the job out of high school was because it was convenient. I spent four years making money and saving it to make sure I could help Uncle Bobby get Sammy through college, bought my house, and now that Sammy’s just about finished, I figured it was time for a change. My uncle always talks about how much he loves his job here, it's a job I’ve always been interested in, I actually put in for it once before, and I love kids. I’ve always wanted a job where I could work with little ones and I think I would do well here.”

Ellen nodded as he spoke, contemplating his answers before standing and holding a finger up to him, “Will you excuse me for one minute?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks.” He watched as she stood and walked past him to the door. She opened it and took a few steps out into the still full waiting room then announced, “If I could just have everyone’s attention for a moment. I would just like to inform you all that the position has been filled, though I thank you all for coming out today and ask you keep an eye open for future positions coming available. Have a great evening everyone.”

She closed the door and walked around the desk to sit across from a very wide eyed Dean, regarding him with a mischievous smirk.

“Does...does this mean I… me…?”

“Yes, Dean,” she nodded, reaching a hand over to pat his shoulder, “congratulations, you’re officially a Disney prince.”

Dean was beaming, glowing he was pretty sure. He was so disappointed when he was rejected the first time around, but now he couldn’t wait to get started!

“So when do I start?!”

“There’s a bit of a process to start with,” she sat back to reach into her desk and handed Dean a binder that said “welcome to Disney’ on the front cover, “in there you’ll find a few helpful bits of information. Just little things like we don't swear in front of the kids, no rude gestures, some do’s and don'ts while on the job, a few helpful words to make you sound like a fairy tale prince, those sorts of things. As well as some information on annual events we hold here, so you’ll wanna take a read through that if you’ve got the time.”

Dean reached over and took the binder, instantly flipping to the first page and running a hand down it. “I will definitely read this right away!”

“Good,” she nodded, “Then we’re going to have you come back on Friday for a quick orientation where you will also meet your partner. I think you will fit very well with the hire we picked to play your other half.”

Dean smiled as he continued to flip through the binder, “I can't wait to meet them and get out there with the kids!”

She smiled while she watched him, completely confident she had made the right choice. “I think you are going to be a great prince, Dean, a very good role model for the kids. Now off you go, I’m sure your uncle will be waiting to hear from you, and we’ll see you back in two days for orientation.”

Dean stood and held his hand across the table to shake Ellen’s once more. “Thank-you so much for this opportunity. I promise I won’t let you down.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam looked up from his laptop perched precariously on his knee. The clock by the tv told him it was almost four in the afternoon. Dean had been gone for almost five hours, so he hoped that was a good sign.

Just as he was about to shoot Dean a quick text, the front door opened and the man in question walked in.

Sam sat up quickly, almost launching his laptop across the living room in the process. “So?! What happened?!”

Dean closed the door then turned to Sam, and though he tried, he could not hold back the huge smile on his face. “May I introduce to you, Prince Dean of Magic Kingdom.”

“That's great man, congrats!” Sam closed his laptop and placed it beside him as Dean sat in the chair across from him.

“I’m really excited,” Sam smiled as Dean’s eyes lit up, “I’m glad Uncle Bobby told me about the position, and I had a much easier time with Ellen then that last bitch.”

“Is she the new casting director?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “and she’s really nice too. Hired me on the spot. That last bitch they had took one look at me and snubbed her nose, didn’t even give me the chance to do the interview. I wanted to punch her so bad.”

“Naomi was a huge bitch,” Sam agreed, thinking back to his own encounter with her, “like, are you seriously trying to tell me I wouldn’t make the perfect Flynn Ryder!? Look at my hair! I’m basically the human version of him, I would have been perfect to play him in the park.”

Dean had to agree Sam would have been perfect, not to mention he had practiced the smoulder for two weeks before the interview and definitely deserved the job. “She always had a thing for Uncle Bobby, and was pissed that he would never accept her offers to go out. Guess she took it out on us. But if you wanted to try again for a position over the summer, Ellen’s great! I’m sure she’d give you a job.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Sam tilted his head from side to side as he thought, “maybe I’ll see if I can talk to her once you get started. Speaking of which, when’s your first day?”

“I go back for orientation in two days, and that’s when I’ll meet the girl who’s going to be playing my princess. And I guess I’ll find out more then.”

“Sounds great, and you’ll have to tell me all about it when you get back on Friday.”

“You bet!”

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A/N: Sooooo, I was planning on posting this in one shot, but it turned out to kind of run away with me and ended up being longer then i thought it would be lol But this means you get it in like three, maybe four parts instead, yay!

And dont forget to let me know what you think about wanting that epilogue when youre done reading, and let me know if you wanna be tagged :)

Tags: gunna tag my destiel peeps... @kitsunecastiel @florenciareiser @soulmatchortega And below is the original post:

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scrollingkingfisher · 6 years ago

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Shipping it like the Titanic

Sam secretly writes fanfiction between killing monsters and fending off the apocalypse-of-the-day. In heaven, a newly recovered Gabriel discovers smut and decides to try his hand. Because that's all sabriel will ever be for either of them, obviously- a far-off fantasy.

There's no way what they're writing about could ever find its way into their real lives. No way whatsoever.

AO3

Rating: E for Lemon Pairings: Sabriel Words: too many (10k and growing)

Written for the @gabriel-monthly-challenge and encompassing not one, not two, but three of the prompts! Woohoo! A record for me!

This is only half of it, because, as usual, the prompt grew out of proportion, so there will me more. It’ll be posted chapter-wise on AO3, because I know me- there’ll be more details I want to add in!

tagging @warlockwriter, @archangelgabriellives, @archangel-with-a-shotgun, @archangelsanonymous, @ttttrickster and @revwinchester!

It started with the play.

Sam had almost forgotten about the Supernatural books- their lives went crazy on such a regular basis that any form of insanity that wasn’t directly threatening their lives tended to be quickly pushed into the background. But it all came back to him in vivid detail as he watched a fifteen-year-old with yellow contacts gleefully daub red paint onto the face of a plastic doll that he was fairly sure was meant to be representing him.

It had been a surreal experience, seeing those schoolgirls play out their various adventures. There was something almost… freeing about it, he realised as he watched the recording again on the way back to the bunker. It really put some of the crazy crap they went through into perspective.

And then Dean had to go and make a big deal out of the… interpretations of the supernatural books. And Sam got curious, okay?

So the next time he had a few hours to himself while Dean was out doing god knew what, Sam got himself a beer from the fridge, sat himself down at the library table, flicked open his laptop and opened a browser tab.

A quick search was more than enough to find what he was looking for. It wasn’t exactly well hidden. The first result in google was the official website for Chuck’s books- it hadn’t aged well. Even back in 2007 when the books were being published Sam would have said it looked outdated. Whoever had designed it obviously wasn’t being paid much. Who ever made official graphics in comic sans? He shook his head, backtracking.

But the link below that led to a rather better curated fan site. Sam narrowed his eyes as he scrolled down. There were the links to the publishers, but also PDFs of the later, unpublished books. There were dates for conventions along with links to get tickets. And at the bottom, there was a series of links to other websites, presumably places to chat with other fans.

He hovered his cursor over the link simply entitled tumblr and clicked.

There was so much. More than Sam had even thought possible for a tiny series of books with a cult following.

He ended spending most of the afternoon falling into the apparently bottomless pit of online fandom. The raft of empty beer bottles at his elbow grew as he roamed his way through the understorey of the internet. He scrolled with fascination through blogs full of pictures edited to look like them, through fan theories of what they were like, and then speculation about things the books didn’t show. Continuations, ‘missing scenes’, and… other things. If Sam never had to accidentally read another poorly-written full-frontal account of Cas and Dean’s fictitious sex life, it would be too soon.

And, well, there were so many things they’d got wrong. Or not quite right. But Sam didn’t feel right about commenting on people’s stories; they didn’t want some randomer coming along and critiquing their characterisation.

So the only way to correct it, he thought with tipsy confidence, was to write it how it had actually happened. He started off small; wrote a few of their more recent hunts, made a blog, and before he could think about it too much, pressed that ‘post’ button.

When he woke up in the morning, he was surprised to find all the notes and comments. Apparently, people liked his writing. A lot.

So he wrote more. And more. Soon Sam was pretty sure he had an addiction. It wasn’t like he had any lack of free time in which to write- Dean was always so stubborn about which of them got to drive, so he had hours and hours of sitting in the passenger seat to fill, and there was only so long he could spend researching.

So his blog quickly grew.

At first, it was strictly real life that he wrote; hunts they’d recently been on, anecdotes, slices of their lives. It helped him to cope, to get all of his thoughts and emotions out of his head and onto paper. But soon, he was branching out into ‘fix it fic’- for him, it was wistful thoughts about possibilities of what could have been if they’d taken different roads. If they’d just managed to save a person here, trusted someone else there. One or two about what might happen if Cas and Dean ever pulled their heads out of their asses.

So he was pretty deep already by the time he stumbled across the Sabriel.

He had just woken up when he found it. He was sitting at the bunker kitchen table, scrolling through his feed over a cup of coffee. Gifset, meta analysis, pictures, art, gif-

Wait.

He got the the end of the post and just stopped scrolling for a second, blinking. Had that art been of him and Gabriel? He scrolled back up.

It was. They were hugging- the artist had got the height difference right, he distantly noted. It was a good likeness even. It was quite chaste compared to a lot of the things that crossed his screen, but there was… something about it. He blinked some more, feeling his forehead scrunch a little as he narrowed his eyes at the screen.

He wasn’t offended by it or anything. Mostly, he was just confused.

Him and Gabriel? Really?

Why?

He and Gabriel had barely known each other. The archangel had hardly talked to him. Even when he had, those words had more often than not been angry. They had started off hunting him after all. And they hadn’t parted mystery spot as friends. Hell, on top of that, Gabriel was dead! Long dead!

Sam clicked on the artist’s profile and scrolled further down, a huff of amused disbelief breaking out of him. The art definitely wasn’t a one-off, and judging from all the reblogs, they were far from the only shipper. No matter what had really happened, these people seemed to think that they had potential.

He sat back, resting his phone down on the table and considering. Huh. What would that even be called? Samiel? Sambriel?

He checked the tags. Sabriel, apparently.

It was impossible. Totally and utterly implausible. Maybe that was what drew him to it. There was no way any of this could work its way into Sam’s real life. He didn’t see any harm in it.

At first it just amused him. But gradually, over time, he found himself starting to seek it out. The ‘incorrect quotes’ made him laugh, either because they were hilariously out of character or (more often than not) hilariously in character. The mood boards made him smile. The art sometimes tugged too-tight at his heart, but it was always amazing. And the fic was something else.

Before he knew it, he was following a whole host of sabriel blogs, reblogging their content to his own. He even made a few friends.

And, gradually? He was starting to see it too. The books had been more revealing about Gabriel than he ever had been in real life. Meta posts pointed out the similarities between their characters, between their stories, and it made Sam realise that they really hadn’t been that different after all. Gabriel had been just as desperate and afraid as he was back then, he’d just had different ways of hiding it. And if the scant number of scenes from Gabriel’s point of view were as accurate as the rest of the books, it certainly looked like he’d had a soft spot for Sam, much as Sam thought he’d never showed it.

Just how many of their interpretations were true? he wondered as he stared at his dimmed computer screen while the streetlamps flashed past on another midnight road. Was there a possibility that, if Gabriel was alive, they could have got along?

He felt a little pang at the thought that they’d never talked at all, really, before he died. Sam felt he knew the archangel better now than he ever had back then. Knowing what he knew now, he wished that he’d at least been friends with him.

In a way, fictional Sam had it better than real him did. The more he read, the more he realised he was craving what his fictional self had; stability, a partner. Someone to come back home to, someone to wrap his arms around at night. It wasn’t like there could ever be any permanent lovers in his real life. He could never keep what he did a secret, or drag someone into this life. And after Eileen, he didn’t have the heart to date anyone within the business. The mortality rate for hunters was just too high.

He looked out the window, shaking his head at himself as they rushed through the night. How sad had his life become? A little voice at the back of his head whispered maliciously. Was he really sitting here daydreaming wistfully about a normal life like some kind of caricature of himself?

Well maybe I am, he retaliated almost angrily. He had few enough permanent good things in his life, and his writing was a lifeline that kept him afloat. It was an escape from the violence and monotony of their lives. It wasn’t hurting anyone. If he wanted to fantasise about having somebody who cared about him, then what the hell, he was gonna do it.

With renewed determination, he opened a new document and started to type.

...

So it went on. He wrote when Amara rose. He wrote then their Mom came back from the dead. He wrote to forget his torture at the hands of the British Men of Letters. He wrote when Cas died, when he lost their Mom, when they found Jack, when Cas returned from the Empty. It was his crutch; whenever things got bad, out came a fresh google doc and onto the page it all went. By the time they were trying to get their Mom back from the apocalypse world, his little blog had over two thousand followers all eagerly awaiting his updates.

So obviously, because this was the Winchester’s luck, that was when Gabriel came back to life.

.o0o.

Gabriel would like it noted down that it was Cas’ fault. For the record.

“Brother. You need to take a break.”

Gabriel looked down at him from heaven’s throne and raised an unimpressed eyebrow. It was a look he’d been perfecting these last few weeks since he’d come back upstairs to reclaim what was left of his birthright and discovered how almost frighteningly easily the other angels fell into line- the first time he’d done it, a cupid had actually keeled over.

Castiel, on the other hand, didn’t back down even half an inch. That seraph had balls of steel. It was one of the things Gabriel liked best about his brother- he had no fear of calling Gabriel out on his bullshit, unlike the rest of the cowardly sycophants up here.

“You have been snapping at the seraphim all week. I believe you need to, as Dean would put it, ‘take a load off’.”

He even crooked his fingers to make the air quotation marks. Adorable.

Gabriel heaved a sigh. “And what do you suggest I do? A zumba class? Go out and commune with nature?”

Castiel was undeterred by his prickly demeanor. “What did you used to do to relax?”

“Mess with dickheads until they died,” Gabriel answered. Cas stared at him blankly, waiting.

“... Make amateur porn?” he suggested.

Cas sighed, rolling his eyes and turning with a swish of trench coat. “Just… go and find something to do, Gabriel. Something productive. Read a book,” he called over his shoulder as he strode out of heaven’s throne room.

Gabriel scoffed to himself, slouching back on the throne to sulk. Read a book? Like literature could hold his attention at the moment. What he needed to do was get outta here and stop wallowing in his own juices!

But if he was being honest with himself (not something he made a habit of), he really didn’t know what he wanted to do once he did manage to get out. He was… aimless. And the longer he sat here with nothing to distract him, the more those memories lurking at the back of his mind dragged their fingernails against his consciousness.

You know what? Maybe he would read that book.

He stood and snapped himself to the nearest bookstore before he had any more time to chew it over. Walking over to the fiction section, he perused along the shelves. Yes, escapism, that was what he needed!

But nothing appealed. Every damn book he picked up seemed to be either a cheap Game of Thrones knock-off or vampire erotica, and he’d already had his fun with Stephanie Meyer.

He was about to snap himself away again in frustration when he paused. There was something poking out of the discount book bin. That cover looked strangely familiar…

He picked it up, smirking at the hunks on the cover, and turned it over to read the blurb. His eyes widened. Holy guacamole. He couldn’t believe it!

He started laughing, uncontrollable whole-body-shaking hoots that quickly turned into constricted wheezing, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. People started backing away from him, but he didn’t care. Oh, this was great! Of all the books that had to catch his eye, it had to be this one. If he didn’t know better, he’d say this was Dad-ordained fate.

He nearly skipped up to the counter, slapping the book down next to the cash register. “Hey, you got any more of these?”

The guy behind it eyed him with concern. “Yeah, should be more if you dig in the bottom of the bin. You like them?”

“Oh yeah,” Gabriel grinned like a slightly manic shark. “I’m a big fan.”

...

“Father above, their lives are depressing.”

Gabriel tossed the last book off the dais with a sigh, lobbing it neatly through a wormhole. Well, that had helped pass a few hours, at least. But after binging his way through two entire lifetimes’ worth of tragedy and man-tears, he was outta reading material.

What now?

Idly, Gabriel pulled out the phone that Sam had given him the last time he popped down to update them. Installing WiFi in heaven had been the first thing he did when he limped back. His siblings would thank him. Eventually.

He typed ‘supernatural’ into google.

And, wow. His eyes widened. That was a lot of porn. Ah, humanity at their finest- it didn’t matter how angst-soaked the source material was, in his experience, there was always at least one fan who would say, “hmmm this needs more nudity!” And, apparently, this fandom had more than one fan who thought Sam and Dean needed more hanky panky in their lives.

He chuckled, scrolling down the entries. Damn, he liked these people already!

“Bingo.” He clicked on a link.

The site flashed up before his eyes, summaries and ratings in their colourful boxes catching his attention. Now this was more like it! He snapped himself up a big tub of popcorn and dug in.

…

He was half way through the tag when he started finding the sabriel.

For the first time since he’d started reading four days ago, his finger paused on the touchpad. His grin faded a little.

So they’d noticed that, had they? He’d thought it wasn’t too obvious from the books, but humans were intuitive.

Tentatively, he clicked. He read, getting more and more wound up the further down he got.

He snorted to himself as he reached the bottom of the page. Where was the danger? The drama? The strippers? He didn’t belong in a coffee shop AU! He pressed the back button, scowling. He searched the tag itself, and wasn’t much more impressed. Why was there so much domesticity? He was a maverick! A rolling stone!

Hey, maybe he should start writing? Show them all where they were going wrong? Because somewhere along the line they’d clearly got the completely wrong impression of his character.

And okay, he thought as he set himself up an account, so maybe they’d been right about him nursing a little crush on the younger Winchester from afar. That was fine! Nobody in real life needed to know! He could just bury that one at the bottom of the ocean in a mental curse box with all the other things he deliberately didn’t think about. As far as Gabriel was concerned, he would keep all his feelings right here in his chest, and then one day Sam would die, and that would be the end of it. And Gabriel’s heart would shatter into a million tiny shards and he would never be quite right again.

But whatever! Not like that was gonna spillover into what he wrote or anything. No, this work of creative genius was gonna be one-hundred-percent SEX, as many chapters of raunchy, kinky, personal-fantasy-fulfilling porn as he could get out onto paper. No feelings here. None whatsoever.

So he conjured a laptop, opened up a playlist for inspiration, and started to write.

.o0o.

The first time that Sam ever really paid any attention to Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets was when he reblogged the call-out post:

Fandoms-forevr: I don’t care what they say, Sam is always the worst character. No matter what else he’s done, the stans can’t deny the facts; he opened a portal to hell. He opened the cage and started the apocalypse. He’s a selfish, manipulative asshole. Tbh if Sam wasn’t in the books, Dean could be retired by now and not be dragged around cleaning up after Sam’s sorry ass.

Sam apologists, don’t interact.

It had been nearly 3am and most of the way through a bottle of whisky, and Sam had reblogged it as an act of drunken self-flagellation. Then he had flicked his phone off, rolled over, and fallen asleep like a baby seal that had been clubbed over the head with a bottle of Jack Daniels.

He woke up to online carnage.

He thought that the notifications were a hallucination from his raging hangover for a second, but when he blinked they didn’t disappear. His eyes widened as he scrolled down the long list of angry reblogs. Some seemed to be arguing for him, some against him. Who the hell had started all this drama?

He scrolled down to the first reblog.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets reblogged: I’m sorry, but Sam? A ‘selfish, manipulative asshole’? What have you been smoking? Whatever it is, put that blunt down, cos it’s making you delusional.

First off, I know this post is about Sam, but you really think Dean would stop hunting without having to be literally chained to the floor? Puh-lease, that boy isn’t gonna stop moving until he gets hitched to Castiel.

Anyway, back to Sam. You’re wrong. Don’t know how you can’t see that, but here, let me take you to the character optometrist...

And then they went off.

The post kept going, a whole list of passionate arguments. Sam felt a smile twitch at the corner of his mouth. He might not agree with their points, but whoever they were, they had style.

Sam had seen people defending him before. He tended to avoid those sorts of posts; it made him uncomfortable for some reason. He knew he didn’t deserve these people’s praise. But for some reason, those usual feelings of guilt and inadequacy weren’t surfacing

The good feelings faded when he opened up his personal messages.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets said: Call yourself a Sam fan? I thought you were meant to be on his side?

Sam frowned at his phone. The reblogs, okay, but personal messaging? Really? His fingers poised over the keys to write an acerbic response, but he restrained himself. He didn’t owe random dickheads on the internet any explanations!

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets… why was that familiar? He’d seen them around once or twice before, he realised; sabriel wasn’t the biggest ship ever, so chances were if someone was on board then Sam would have at least heard of them.

But recently, Gabriel’s real life return had put a bit of a damper on his reading and writing. It was one thing writing yourself into a relationship with someone who was, to all intents and purposes, not real- it was quite another to write yourself sharing a loving embrace with someone who regularly popped in to give you updates on how heaven was doing under new management. He was surprised he could even look Gabriel in the face after some of the things he’d read about them.

That was it! Sam nodded to himself as he realised where he’d seen them before. The kinkmeme. Of course.

He opened up their A03 profile. Unsurprisingly, there was nothing in there less explicit than an E. Half of their fics made Sam blush down to his scalp just by looking at the summaries. There were some… colourful entries in there.

Sam hovered his cursor over the latest fic. With trepidation, he clicked.

“Spank me. It’s the only way I learn.”

Sam waved his cute patootie in the air, already marked with several cherry-red handprints like the naughty boy he was.

“Oh, you’re gonna learn, sweet-cheeks. And you’re gonna enjoy it.”

Gabriel ran his fingers across the array of toys before him, and as he glanced up, a sharp smirk tugging at his lips, he had never looked more dangerous. Dangerous, powerful and sexy. He picked out the biggest dildo, the one as long as Sam’s arm and twice as shiny, and in one swift thrust he rammed it into his tight little-

“Oh my god,” Sam choked, turning the laptop screen away a little. He needed a moment. That was… that wasn’t physically possible. Or at least, not pleasurable at all. It couldn’t be.

Was it?

He glanced back at the text. It was just morbid curiosity, that was all, he told himself. Just morbid... curiosity…

He read the whole thing. And then another one. And another one.

Sam surreptitiously adjusted his pants. Okay, so they could write, he thought to himself. That didn’t make them any less of an asshole. But he did decide to message them back.

Moose-of-Letters- Look, we’ve got different opinions. Could you just stay in your lane and stop bothering me?

It took a surprisingly short length of time before a reply to pop up.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets- I’ll stop bothering you when you aren’t reblogging hate posts

Sam scowled, feeling his temper rise. Who did they think they were, telling him what he could and couldn’t have on his blog? Like their own wasn’t a dumpster fire of discourse posts!

“What you looking at?”

Sam nearly jumped out of his seat, hiding his phone in reflex. Dean was standing behind him, grey robe on, steaming mug of coffee in hand.

“Selkie lore,” Sam grunted defensively.

Dean snorted. “What have selkies ever done to you?” Sam looked up again, frowning in confusion. Dean plonked himself down in the seat opposite, pulling the toast towards himself. “You look like you’re ready to open up a can of whoop-ass. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Sam muttered. “Late night, that’s all.” Dean raised his eyebrows but stayed silent, accepting his answer. Sam angled his phone away from his brother and typed furiously.

Moose-Of-Letters Commented: I’m not going to even bother arguing with you. If we can’t have a conversation like adults, then just fuck off.

He brought up their profile, his finger hovering over the ‘block’ button, but he paused. They were one of his followers.

Maybe… maybe he was being a little harsh. It had been a hate post, and he usually tried to be positive about all the ‘characters’, while he was sober at least- he didn’t normally put up with character hate. He’d been pretty vocal about it in the past. No wonder people had been taken aback, even if this one had dealt with it rudely. Slowly, he took his finger off the button, going back to the chat. How should he phrase this?

Moose-Of-Letters Commented: Look, some of the stuff with Sam is kind of personal for me, it’s a bit too close to home. I’m sorry if I got snappy with you.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets- Oops. Too late for that

What did that mean? As soon as Sam thought that, his feed updated. And there it was, right at the top.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets posted- The great battle for Sam’s dignity begins. Who woulda thought it but Moose-of-Letters is officially the enemy of the people. I declare war!!

The text was followed by a gif of a pair or armoured knights facing off while brandishing rubber dildos. Already there had been another flurry of reblogs and arguments. Sam rolled his eyes, turning off is phone. Why did he even bother?

…

Gabriel was scrolling down his feed idly. Honestly, as much as he moaned about ruling heaven, there wasn’t that much to do. The most difficult thing he’d solved this morning was a disagreement between the Virtues as to whether the lesser cherubs should be classified using a tiered system or not. Who cared! It didn’t matter!! After that, the inane squabbles of tumblr discourse looked almost sensible.

Almost.

But then, he did enjoy causing chaos and then sitting back and watching everyone fall over themselves in indignation. That was just funny.

And what was even better were the increasingly frustrated and snarky reblogs he’d been getting from an account he’d decided to target after they reblogged that Dad-awful Sam hate post. They’d totally deserved it. He was amazed they hadn’t blocked him yet, but he was taking advantage of having someone to rile up while it lasted. Their replies had been getting progressively more pointed and it gave Gabriel a vicious sort of satisfaction. He was planning another volley of posts this afternoon, and he had some scorching insults lined up.

He reblogged some excellent fanart of Dean in a pair of pink panties (must remember to leave that somewhere for him to find), skipped over another post about the latest tumblr scandal (someone was making earrings out of human bones!?), but then he paused. He felt a flash of excitement- his nemesis was posting again.

Moose-of-Letters posted: Ugh, it annoys me so much when people try to pass Gabriel off as someone who just has loads of sex and eats candy and does nothing else. Like whatever, you want an outlet for your kinks, but it’s just bad characterisation.

Oh, he knew who this was aimed at. He felt his feathers fluff in annoyance. They were vagueing about him? And for all the things they could go for, they decided to take aim at writing. He quickly batted away a twinge of insecurity. It was his aesthetic! Who were they to judge his style? He could write Gabriel however the hell he liked!

He had a strange moment of dissociation where he realised he’d been thinking of himself in the third person, but he brushed it off. Obviously they thought they were just judging a character, but there was no way he couldn’t take this personally. Gabriel was offended on behalf of his fictional self. He opened up a direct message window again.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets- Look, if you’ve got a problem with my fics, just come into my comments and flame me like a normal person.

It didn’t take long for a reply to come in.

Moose-of-Letters- What makes you think that post’s about your fics? Hmm it’s almost as though you know it’s a flaw in your writing

And then, before Gabriel could do more than gape at his screen in disbelieving insult,

Moose-of-Letters- And it’s not that I don’t enjoy your writing, but I find your characterisation of Gabriel is off. You write him as though he’s just this candy-addicted nymphomaniac when it’s obvious that those things are shields. I was just trying to get people to appreciate that he’s clearly a much more complex character with deeper motivations!

Shields!? Where were they getting this stuff? Gabriel liked sex! He loved sex! All hot people all the time!

Well, the best defence was a good offence.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets: Well if you’re so high and mighty, how would you characterise Gabriel? Sensitive with a side of Single Man Tears?

The jumping dots appeared under his reply. Then they stopped.

Gabriel smirked. Ha! Come back to that, dickweed!

But then the dots were back, the person on the other end obviously typing furiously. Gabriel watched, waiting for the answer to appear. What the hell were they writing, an essay? A novel? An epic?

Moose-of-Letters- Of course not. He’s an archangel, a warrior. But I think that Gabriel cares a lot more than he lets on. He’s got a huge heart, even though he tries his best to hide it because he’s been hurt by people he cares about. And I think that he feels a lot of hurt about his family. I think that’s why he gets so mad at Sam and Dean in TV land, because they remind him of his brothers, but he knows that he can’t yell at them directly so Sam and Dean get the brunt of his anger instead.

Gabriel winced. Not one of his better moments.

Moose-of-Letters- But I think that even more than loving his brothers, Gabriel loves humanity. In the Elysian Fields motel I think it’s clear that he feels guilty that he wasn’t strong enough to protect the humans from the apocalypse, even though that was never his fault. The Winchesters should have never guilted him into it, because every time he tries to help them he ends up dead.

Well, Moose wasn’t wrong.

The worst part was that he did seem to have Gabriel right so far. The guy had him bang on, whoopie for him. It wasn’t even like they were using that knowledge to insult him- they were defending him, even! But there was something painfully vulnerable about somebody laying out his character like that. Something violating. Like ripping off a scab and leaving the stinging, raw emotions underneath open to the elements.

And it made Gabriel angry. Suddenly, he realised that was what this feeling brewing in his chest and prickling behind his eyes was. His blood was boiling; who were these people to Know him? He hadn’t given out any of this information voluntarily!! It had been ripped from his control, the most intimate workings of his mind printed on pulp and handed out for people on the internet to pick over, like vultures at a carcass.

Suddenly, the books didn’t seem so funny any more. He was starting to realise why the Winchesters had wanted them gone for all these years

Screw his Dad, seriously. A+ parenting all round.

He was about to angrily snap the laptop shut when another message popped up.

Moose-of-Letters- I think all the characters tend to underestimate Gabriel, in different ways, and I think that the writer did too. I just have a lot of admiration for his character because I can relate to a lot of what he’s gone through.

Gabriel deflated. These people didn’t know. They hadn’t got a clue that any of this was real. And this person in particular had obviously seen his character, him, for who he was, but they hadn’t run screaming. They were… defending him?

He stared at the screen, nonplussed. Why?

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets: You really like Gabriel, huh?

Moose-of-Letters: I think it’s impossible to spend all this time getting to know about someone and not care about them.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets: and you think you know him? The real him?

Moose-of-Letters: I’d like to think so. Hey, sorry I came off as an asshole. And I’m sorry if I’ve been an asshole about other things as well. It’s just something I’m really passionate about.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets: That makes two of us.

Gabriel quirked an ironic little smile to himself. Even here, in the underbelly of the internet, people were still reminding him why he’d always defended humanity. Their ability for change and forgiveness was something he wished angels had a hang of. He kept typing.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets: I guess I should apologise for the insults, even if they were super creative. And you’re not a bad writer yourself. My dad was a writer once, and you’re definitely better than him. I’m pretty new to it.

Moose-of-Letters: I’d be happy to give you some pointers if you’ll give me some! your smut is hot as hell ;)

Gabriel laughed, properly this time. Oh, he could already tell this was going to be a very fruitful alliance.

.o0o.

Goldenhorns posted- There’s nothing weirder than seeing Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets and Moose-of-Letters getting along. It’s like watching God and Satan getting pally.

Vatican-came0s commented: Correction; there’s only one thing weirder than seeing Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets and Moose-of-Letters getting along, and it’s seeing them give each other fic suggestions. How the hell is that even happening!?

Gabes-hoe commented: I have no idea, but they will have the most gorgeous plotty-smutty literature babies together

Guess_who_lost_a_shoe commented: I for one welcome our new fic creating overlords!

Gabriel smirked as he saw the post crop up on his dash. It was definitely more entertaining watching everyone’s sudden confusion at them getting along than it ever had been when he was trying to make them angry.

It was the strangest friendship he’d ever made, and coming from someone who’d spent several centuries as a trickster god, that was saying something.

But he and Moose (as he’d insisted on calling him) had started talking more and more over the last three weeks, and the more they talked, the more Gabriel was realising that they had in common. Seeing his own character through someone else’s eyes was fascinating. And Moose was great once he’d got to know him- they might have different approaches to writing fic, but he was kind, level-headed, and an amazing writer with some awesome ideas. Gabriel was writing more now than he had in months-

“Gabriel, are you even listening?” Cas’ deep voice interrupted his thoughts. Gabriel’s head jerked up to where he was standing in front of the throne.

“Hmm yeah. Uh. What?”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “You are distracted again, brother. At least pretend to pay attention.”

But it was no use, not when his new favourite commenter popped up in his notifications. Gabriel snatched a glance at his notes between appointments. Oooh, Moose was commenting on his WIPs.

Moose-of-Letters- Love the descriptions! Maybe put a short bridging scene between them meeting in the club and getting to the shibari, though? The transition feels a little abrupt.

Gabriel nodded to himself. Moose was right, it did need another scene in there before it got to the bondage part- he’d do that later. But working on his ever-growing library would have to wait. He turned his phone to silent, stowing it in a pocket. It was almost time for the weekly appointment he looked forward to and dreaded in equal measure; going to visit Sam.

.o0o.

Sam had spent most of the morning alternating between frantically researching or repeatedly checking his phone, trying to keep himself busy enough with making protective hex bags for the new hunters that he could stay calm and prepare himself for Gabriel's weekly visit. But he still didn’t feel either calm or prepared when the beating of wings filled the kitchen.

Gabriel appeared with a pop in front of him, tugging the collar of that leather jacket he favoured these days back into place. The archangel nodded at him, looking him up and down. “Sam.”

“Gabe.” Internally, Sam winced. Was ‘Gabe’ too informal? It felt too informal. Was it something he’d picked up from everything he’d been reading? He didn’t know any more! Fanfiction wasn't reality, he knew that damnit, but sometimes it just slipped out-

Gabriel, thankfully, didn’t seem to have noticed his internal struggle. He bounced on the balls of his feet, his arms swinging stiffly at his sides as he looked around the kitchen like he felt the awkwardness as keenly as Sam did.

The silence stretched out painfully. Sam had to say something. Anything.

“How are you?” he blurted, at the same time as Gabriel said, “So, wotcha been doing down here?” Sam snapped his mouth shut. Gabriel smirked, mischief twinkling in his eyes. “Ladies first.”

Normally, this would be where Sam would fire back something witty before they got down to business. But some fanart Sam had seen of Gabriel posing in an extremely short skirt and silky, lacy lingerie under it appeared behind his eyes like a goddamn real life pop-up. Sam cleared his throat, shaking it off.

They managed to get through most of Sam’s updates on the new hunters without him embarrassing himself, which Sam thought was a serious achievement. At some point they moved to sit at the kitchen table, Sam with his hands clasped in front of him. Gabriel was fiddling absentmindedly with one of the pieces of string Sam had been using to make the hex bags while Sam talked. “So yeah, we managed to get that demon nest cleared up before they could kill anyone else. I was worried we might have something more powerful on our hands, but it looks like it was just a very charismatic leader. I think he was running for candidacy for the king of hell.”

Gabriel nodded as he listened to Sam intently, twirling the string between his fingers, snapping it tight before letting it go slack again. “Good. As long as everyone downstairs is still distracted, we should be able to get established before they rally.” He glanced up. Was Sam imagining the way that tawny gaze softened when Gabriel looked at him? Was he searching for fondness that wasn’t there? He couldn’t tell any more.

Gabriel sat back with a dramatic sigh. “We’re nearly good to go up there, the souls and heavens are finally stable but I’m still trying to find another angel apart from Cassie with more personality than a banana skin…”

Sam found his attention trailing off, Gabriel’s hands holding his gaze, those clever fingers twisting and pulling at the string. A scene flashed past his eyes from Trickster’s latest fic that he’d read just that morning-

Gabriel gave one last tug on the ropes, pulling them tight. He looked down in satisfaction at the intricate series of loops holding his lover exactly where he wanted him- bent over the bed, legs slightly spread, back arched beautifully. An entire smorgasbord of skin, all laid out for him to enjoy.

Sam whined behind his gag. Gabriel could see him testing the knots, flexing his arms where they were tied behind his back, but he knew they would hold. Those tanned muscular thighs, gleaming with sweat, were straining against the ropes, but he was rocking against the silk sheets in a way that made it very clear he was still helplessly turned on.

Gabriel rested one hand against his back, stilling him. Slowly, he soothed the hand upwards, and Sam melted at the contact. Finally he relaxed into the ropes’ embrace. The sight of Sam so willingly submitting himself to Gabriel’s complete control fanned the hunger burning in his gut flare into a roar-

“Sam? Hey, gigantor! Anybody home?”

Sam jerked, his eyes flashing guiltily to Gabriel’s. Gabriel raised a questioning eyebrow. Sam, to his mortification, felt himself flush scarlet. Gabriel’s eyebrow nearly disappeared into his hair.

Damn it, Sam, get it together! “Just… uh…” Sam cleared his throat. “Just thinking about demons. Uuuh, about going back to look for any we missed. Just in case. And we’re going to hunt wha I’m pretty sure is a chupacabra later, so… yeah. That as well.”

“Okay,” Gabriel still looked dubious. “Aaanyway, I gotta be getting back. The cherubs get jittery without someone telling them what to do every second of every day. But I should be back same time next week. What day is it again?”

Sam felt a lead weight form in his gut. He had to know, didn’t he? But time ran differently in heaven.

“It’s… it’s a Tuesday.” He couldn’t help the way his voice stuttered on that last word. Even after all these years, Dean still had to change the station whenever Asia came on the radio.

Sam saw Gabriel’s eyes widen. He froze awkwardly, his usual confident smirk slipping. Sam had no doubt that they were both thinking of the same thing- the six months that Sam had spent trapped in that time loop. The silence thickened.

Gabriel opened his mouth as though he was going to say something, grimaced, and Sam waited, his breath catching for a drawn-out second. Were they finally going to talk about this?

Then Gabriel closed it again in a huff. Sam tried not to show his slump of disappointment.

“So, same time next week?”

“Yeah, see you-” there was a flurry of flapping and Gabriel disappeared, “-next week,” Sam sighed.

He rubbed his face tiredly with one hand. Well, that could have gone better. Time to drown his sorrows in fanfiction.

.o0o.

Gabriel was in too deep, and he knew it.

He scowled at his latest WIP. He’d retreated to his favourite spot in the Garden and pulled up the kinkmeme prompt as soon as he got back from his little trip earth-side in the hopes that it would drive any residual anxiety out of his brain. No luck there. This was supposed to be porn, dad-damn it! So why were they still talking? Why were they having a meaningful conversation instead of getting down and dirty? Where the hell had all these feelings come from?

He leaned back against the trunk of the nearest tree, staring out moodily across the sunlit clearing and the vast forest beyond. The problem, he grumped to himself, was what had happened that afternoon. He had put his foot in his mouth, again. Which wasn’t an unusual occurrence. There weren’t that many safe topics outside of work when it came to Sam.

And he had wanted to talk to Sam about Mystery Spot this time, he had! He wanted to move past this. He’d tried to get the words out. But as usual, he’d frozen, and his cowardice had won out. And then he’d run away. What the hell had he been thinking!?

Sam was his friend. Probably his last friend outside of heaven (well, apart from Moose). Sam had seen him at his lowest, cleaned him up and taken out those damn stitches, brought him back from being locked within his own mind, hell, even jumped in front of him to deflect Michael’s blade during that last desperate battle in the apocalypse world. Gabriel had hurt him and he wanted to fix it, but he just couldn’t get the words out.

A gentle breeze stirred around him. He took a deep breath of the sweet air, looking out into the once-busy emptiness of heaven.

Well, if he couldn’t apologise to Sam, at least fictional him could. Maybe it was time to take a leaf out of Moose’s book.

.o0o.

Sam bolted up the stairs, flinging himself into the nearest room and looking around wildly. Unfortunately it looked like it was a dead end- the window of the deserted shack was too small to squeeze through. Should he go and try another room?

But he was too late. The sound of the chupacabra they were hunting climbing it’s way up the stairs reached him. Shit! He’d have to hide.

Sam looked around, spotting a cupboard in the corner. He grimaced, climbing in. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do. Silently, he pulled the doors shut behind himself.

The creature reached the top of the stairs. There was a muted clicking of claws on wood. The overloaded groan of a floorboard.

The chupacabra stopped. It sniffed the air. Through the tiny gap between the doors, Sam could see its forked tongue flickering out to taste the air, bulging eyes peering around the room. Sam held his breath and hoped that its hearing wasn’t sharp enough to pick up his heart thumping against his ribs.

It hitched in a breath, and sneezed violently. Sam flinched. His grip on his machete was so tight that he was sure his knuckles were turning white. It snorted, shaking itself with a rattle of spines.

With another grunt, it turned to leave. Sam dared to take the thinnest breath. His muscles relaxed just slightly.

PING!

The monster whirled. It’s lamplight eyes pinpointed the cupboard. Sam felt his phone vibrate in his pocket with the notification and had a moment to screw his eyes shut. Fuck! Why hadn’t he turned it off when they started!?

Luckily, at that moment, Dean’s war cry split the air. Sam leapt from the cupboard, machete already swinging. He could berate himself later. Right now, he had bigger fish to fry.

…

“Was the flamethrower really necessary?”

Dean looked back in satisfaction at the smoking remains of the shack. “The flamethrower is always necessary.”

Sam rolled his eyes, sliding into the front seat. He hoped he got soot on the upholstery.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he was relieved to see that it didn’t appear to have been damaged in the fight. The screen was still whole. He powered it on, and there it was, the notification that had nearly got him killed.

Archive Of Our Own

[AO3] Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets just posted a new work :)

Sam groaned. Fanfiction was literally going to be the death of him.

.o0o.

Moose-of-Letters commented: Hey, I like the new fic, it’s different from your usual. Sorry I didn’t comment earlier, I was a bit distracted.

Gabriel smiled as he opened his email. His new favourite commenter had picked up on it, because of course they had.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets: Yeah, guess this fic is your influence ;)

It had stuck with him, that conversation with Sam. Or rather, the parts of it that hadn’t happened. He’d been thinking about it, really thinking about it, in the times between his heavenly appointments.

Re-reading the book featuring Mystery Spot from Sam’s point of view had been quite an eye-opener. He’d been so focused, the first time, on getting Sam to stop that he hadn’t truly realised what he was doing to him in his desperation. It had made him wonder- what would he do, if he could go back and change it all? Knowing what he did now, would he have been able to make a difference? He thought he might.

And if he were to talk to Sam about it now, what could he ever say to apologise to Sam for what he’d done to him?

A lot of that had made it onto the page. It was heavier than what he usually wrote, but somehow Gabriel felt lighter for it.

Moose-of-Letters: About the Mystery Spot, do you really think that Gabriel was doing any of that for Sam?

Gabriel sighed. He should have known that Moose would want to talk characterisation. What should he say?

Well, there was nothing stopping him from telling the truth.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets: I think he was doing that all for Sam. Gabriel was just trying to prepare Sam for Dean’s inevitable death- he knew the apocalypse was about to go down, remember? He knew what was coming, and he was trying to avert it.

Gabriel bit his lip, his fingers pausing over the keyboard. Was he really gonna pour his heart out to random strangers on the internet? Really?

But now he started, he just couldn’t seem to stop his fingers. And anyway, Moose wasn’t really a stranger at this point.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets: Gabriel couldn’t go to Sam directly because he’s got a soft spot for him. He likes him. He doesn’t like seeing humans get hurt who don’t deserve it, and the fact that his brothers are gonna cause so much destruction and he can’t do a thing to stop it is breaking his heart. That bit at the end where he gives in? He just couldn’t do it anymore, Sam out-stubborns him. He knows he wouldn’t be able to stand to see Sam hurting, and in the end? That’s why he failed. His love for humans is his weakness, the way he cares for Sam in particular.

There. It was out.

Gabriel pushed his laptop away, closing his eyes and resting his face in his hands. He needed a moment.

.o0o.

Sam sat back. Huh.

He honestly hadn’t expected Trickster’s first foray into more serious fics to be much good. Not because he couldn’t write- obviously he could, his work had been featuring heavily in Sam’s spank bank (as Dean would call it) for months now. Heavy-hitting just wasn’t his speciality, that was all.

But he had written it. And it was good.

It was emotional, and raw, and almost painfully in-character. Gabriel’s confession, his betrayal and his grief and anger and guilt were all so real that Sam wondered if Trickster had gone through something similar in his own life. He hadn’t been able to resist asking what Trickster thought Gabriel’s motivations were. He wished he could be as sure as Trickster was that Mystery Spot had been about Gabriel trying to save him. And he secretly doubted that Gabriel had given up his attempt because he cared for him. Not in real life.

But he could let himself live this fantasy for just a little longer, couldn’t he? He felt a pang in his heart that he was never going to have this conversation with Gabriel himself. This was probably as close as he was ever gonna get.

Slowly, Sam started typing.

Moose-of-Letters- Well, I think you’re right about Sam being stubborn. But it wasn’t Gabriel’s fault that Sam didn’t learn that lesson- I don’t think he ever would have. He was in too deep to ever realise what Gabriel was trying to say.

Sam hesitated, biting his lip. He started typing again.

Moose-of-Letters- I think they would both have been a lot happier if Gabriel had been able to get through to him. I wish it had gone like your fic in canon.

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets: You and me both, Moose.

Sam smiled sadly. If only.

Moose-of-Letters- I’m not sure you’re right about Gabriel’s mercy being his weakness though. His love for humanity is what makes him different from his brothers. It’s what makes him human- it’s the thing that really drew me to his character in the first place. His love for humans might put him in the firing line, but I think it’s one of his greatest strengths as well. And I think his incredible empathy is one of the reasons why Sam would love him, as well as everything else they have in common. When it comes down to it, he’s ready to lay down everything for humanity too. They’re really kindred spirits.

Moose-of-Letters- Maybe if you’re trying angst I should give smut a go :P

And really, everything went downhill from there.

Part 2, coming soon!

#lemon #sabriel #a citrusy boi #Gabriel Monthly Challenge

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mrswhozeewhatsis · 5 years ago

Text

A Woman of Letters (Getting a Feel for Sam Winchester) - Chapter 24

Summary: You’ve just opened an occult bookstore in Lebanon, Kansas, when you fall for a tall, handsome customer…literally. You soon find out that there’s more to the world than you ever suspected, including you. Discovering your heritage puts you directly in a witch’s crosshairs, though, so the Winchesters offer to take you in and teach you how to protect yourself. As you discover your own family history with the supernatural and your own hidden talents, you can’t help but wish a certain brother was as excited about your interest as you are.

Total length: 43 chapters, 70,247 words - Read on AO3 - Series masterlist

Chapter word count: 1429 words

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: Canon-level angst and violence

Sam

In the following week, Y/N had finished reading her uncle’s journals and started reading about witches and doing other hunting-related research. Sam wasn’t too happy about it, except for the part where she was spending more time in the library with him than watching movies with Dean. Sometimes she would ask him questions about something she was reading, and they would have good conversations about lore that almost made him want her to stay in the bunker for good. Almost.

One day, Y/N convinced Sam and Dean to take her grocery shopping, and she made a lasagna and pie for dinner. Both were her first attempts, and both were good. While she was cooking, she set up her iPod to play some of her favorite music, and Sam found himself drawn to the kitchen. He pretended to be researching a possible hunt online, but really he was just enjoying watching her dance and sing to her music while she put together the meal. Her voice was beautiful, and Sam was enraptured. During an upbeat song that was obviously a favorite, Sam watched her swing her hips and toss her hair, forgetting he was even in the room. Sam shifted uncomfortably in his pants, which were suddenly too tight, and checked on his mental library door. Shut tight, thankfully. Later, Dean poked his head in, heard the strains of a Broadway tune, and immediately ran away, saying he’d only return if decent music was played. Sam was okay with that. After a particularly beautiful rendition of another Broadway tune, which was then followed by a rock song, which she also sang impressively, Sam finally got up the guts to compliment Y/N on her singing.

“Thanks, Sam.” Y/N smiled warmly and Sam almost blushed. “I worked my way through college singing and waitressing in a bar, as well as performing in the musical theater productions at school.”

“What did you go to school for?”

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure, then, and now that I have my liberal arts degree, I’m still not sure!” Y/N made a funny face and Sam laughed in spite of himself. “I once heard a joke that went something like, ‘Hi. I have a liberal arts degree. Would you like fries with that?’’’ Y/N chuckled and shook her head. “Truer words have never been spoken. Four years of music, theater, philosophy, art, history, language, and English courses, and I’m qualified to do just about nothing that actually pays money. I’m kind of a jack of all trades, master of none. Except math. Can’t do math to save my life.” Y/N rolled her eyes and smiled, making Sam laugh. “So, I waitressed and sang on the weekends, tutored kids during the week, convinced myself that someday I’d write The Great American Novel and put my degree to good use, and I just needed to keep afloat until inspiration for that novel hit me. When Uncle Lloyd died, it made me rethink what I was doing, and that’s when I started working towards opening the shop. It took me five years to save up the cash, but it was worth it.” Y/N sighed and put her attention back on adding ingredients to the sauce for the lasagna.

“I’m so sorry you lost your shop, Y/N. You can get the insurance money and rebuild, though, right?” Sam hoped against hope that the answer was yes.

“I’m not sure. The insurance will cover either the business loan, or replacing the stock lost, but not both. If I used the money to reopen, I’d have to find the cash to pay the loan payments until the shop reopened. That could be months. I put everything I had into it the first time, so I have no savings left. I think I’m officially out of the occult bookstore business.” Sam felt his heart sink.

“I’m so sorry we cost you everything, Y/N.” Sam’s throat felt choked up, and he coughed to clear it. “If you want, we can try to hack the bank or something to help you get back on your feet and get the shop going again. It can’t be too much harder than the credit card scams we already use to pay for everything.” Y/N stopped what she was doing and looked at Sam with wonderment. She then walked over to him, looking at his face for a long while. Sam gave his mental library door a check and looked up at her. As she gazed at him, she pushed a lock of hair out of his face, and bent over and wrapped her arms around his neck, giving him an awkward hug. Sam held his breath, and then slowly tried to return the hug. Every part of him that she touched got warm and he struggled against the urge to pull her into his lap and press more of her body against his. When she pulled away, she kissed his forehead and smiled at him before heading back to the stove. Sam did his best to keep her from hearing as he tried to steady his breathing.

“You are so sweet, Sam, but I’m not sure I want to reopen the store. At least, not right now. Finding out that the store was something more than I thought it was changes things. I wanted the store because it was what my uncle did, and I wanted to continue what he was doing. Now that I know what he was actually doing, and that what he was doing was so important, I feel like my shop was kind of a half-assed way of going about things. If I were to reopen the shop, I think I’d want to do it the way he did and sell to hunters. If I decide to do that, there’s a lot of studying I’ll have to do. If I don’t want to reopen the shop, then I have to decide what I want to do next. The possibilities are both endless and non-existent. I can do anything I want, provided there’s someone out there willing to hire someone with a generic degree and no experience, which is highly unlikely in this economy.” Y/N paused her talking while she responded to the timer saying the lasagna noodles were done, turning off the stove and draining the pasta in the sink. When she had all the ingredients for the lasagna ready to be assembled, she spoke again, looking Sam in the eyes. “Quite frankly, I have no prospects right now. I’m not just talking jobs, either. I have no family, few friends that I keep in touch with, and no loved ones out there. There’s no life waiting for me out there, and you guys don’t want me here, so I’m not sure what I’m going to do once Rowena is neutralized.”

Y/N shrugged and started assembling the lasagna. Sam felt overwhelmed with guilt.

“Y/N, it’s not that we don’t want you here. We want you safe. And here isn’t safe.” Sam ran a hand through his hair and hoped the ache in his heart wasn’t leaking out the door of his mental library. Y/N paused what she was doing to look at Sam seriously.

“Sam, life isn’t safe. Crossing the street isn’t safe. Apparently, putting a protective symbol in a shop window isn’t safe. I know you don’t like it, but I think I don’t have much choice other than to embrace my heritage. At the very least, I want to learn as much as I can. Once I’ve gotten my degree in monsters, as it were, then I can decide what to do.” Y/N paused to let that sink in for Sam. “Can you at least be okay with me sticking around long enough to learn?” The burning in Sam’s chest felt like it would rip him in two. Sam stared at his laptop screen for a long moment before he answered. Part of him wanted to jump for joy. Y/N wanted to stay! The rest of Sam couldn’t stop seeing Y/N as yet another casualty in the war he and Dean had been fighting their whole lives.

“All right. I guess I don’t have much choice, do I? Something tells me once you have your mind set on something, you don’t give it up easily.” Sam tried to plaster a smile on his face and hoped it didn’t look too strained. Y/N smiled as she covered the lasagna in tin foil and put it in the oven.

“Pretty much.” Y/N gave Sam a megawatt grin and it helped Sam’s smile become more natural.

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bluestar22x · 6 years ago

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Supernatural And Me

On a personal level, it is really fitting that Supernatural is going to end Spring 2020.

That spring I will be preparing to finally graduate college and get into my dream career field - taking care of sick animals (as a vet tech). When Supernatural ends, my career will begin.

Supernatural has been with me since I was 13. I entered my teen years and became an adult watching this show. And it will end when I’m finally, truly, on my own, paying all my bills like a proper adult.

It made me want to reflect on the evolution of my relationship with the show, how it’s changed my life, etc. So below the cut is more if you’d like to read about it. Warning: It might be slightly long. ha

Back in September 2005 when I was 12 going on 13, I saw a promo for Supernatural. I don’t remember much about the promo except it looked creepy and not being a horror fan (I still hate most horror movies to this day) I paid little attention to it. When I found out my parents were watching it, I didn’t ask to stay up later to watch it with them (It aired past my bedtime back then!). I didn’t want nightmares!

But Spring 2006 I ended up needing to stay up to study for a test and my parents had the show on in the living room. “Dead Man’s Blood” was on (though I wouldn’t know the episode name until a couple years later). I tried not paying attention to it, but I did watch bits while studying, and it peaked my interest.

So when I was bored in my room one night, and I stumbled onto the airing of “Devil’s Trap” I watched the episode. It was good - I was interested. I decided to stick around for at least 1 more episode to see who would survive the car crash.

Fall 2006 the Season 2 premiere airs, and I decide I’m in. I’m sticking with the show. Dean’s hot and I want to see how Sam and Dean handle their dad’s death.

From then on I loyally recorded the show every night it aired when I wasn’t allowed to stay up late so I could watch it the next day. I spent Season 2 falling in love with Dean’s character, the brothers’ close relationship, the Impala, the Classic Rock music, and the show in general. I rewatched my favorite episodes via the recordings and I found youtube and began watching fanvids. And when it was over, I bought the Season 1 and 2 DVD sets and FINALLY watched all of Season 1 - bingeing all 22 episodes in 2 days.

Season 3 was the 1st year I really sympathized with Sam - I cried when he said he just wanted Dean to be his brother again - because I wanted Dean to act more like himself too. I cried again with him when he lost Dean on Wednesday in “Mystery Spot”. It became the 1st Sam episode I replayed a ton because I felt Sam’s pain. The finale was very upsetting for me, a total Dean girl at the time, but I also loved it for Bobby’s “family don’t end with blood” speech (I began to really love his character that day) and the singing scene (I love Bon Jovi) and knew they had to bring back Dean somehow.

The summer before Season 4 I found the SPN fandom - I found the CW lounge (a long dead website made by the CW for fans to discuss their shows) and I found SpoilerTV. I began reading fanfics fans wrote on the lounge site. I made my 1st online friends - one of which I still talk with to this day (though she no longer watches the show).

The 1st Comic Con sneak peek I watched was of Dean digging himself out of his grave. I was so excited to see him alive. I quickly got into the habit of watching sneak peeks and reading all the Spoilers that existed for the show. I became a Spoiler Addict.

I was so excited about Castiel’s introduction. An angel on one of my shows - I was gleeful about it. I prayed he’d stay good (but I could sense he’d be a friend from the start) and he’d stay alive. I was of course, not disappointed. I was so in love with Cas’s Season 4 and 5 scenes. His friendship with Dean was the best part for me at the time. My 1st fanfic on fanfiction net was about Cas pulling Dean out of hell. I joined a new website with my fan friends, a more private website, and I became known as DeanCasLover or DCL - my account name on the sites I went on most.

Then Kripke left the show. And slowly through the years I lost my love for it. The writing didn’t always feel right. It felt more flawed - less satisfying than under Kripke. The more the job of showrunner changed hands, the worst it got.

Bobby died (a death I still consider a mistake to this day). Most of my friends left the private website we were on and dropped the show. My parents had quit watching seasons before. I got busy with college and read and wrote less fanfics. I read less spoilers. I stopped buying the seasons as soon as they came out. I stopped doing “marathon watches” of the previous seasons. I checked for fan videos less often. I began getting increasingly more annoyed with certain parts of the fandom. But I was still very deeply in love with the characters. I hung on, refusing to give up the show.

August 2015 I joined Tumblr for another show (Dominion - another angel show, shocker). I wanted to collect the gifs for that show and I did. November 2015 I reblogged my first Supernatural gifs. It didn’t help keep me interested in the current season (Season 11). I lost so much interest it took me nearly a whole summer to watch the last 3 or 4 episodes of Season 11. But when I was done, I was drawn back in.

Season 12 was a mixed bag for me. I struggled to watch it as much as I did during Season 11. Only certain enjoyable episodes and some stand out scenes kept me going. I was still a very much troubled fan.

Season 13 saved my love for the show. Jack saved me from quitting. His relationship with Sam was the best part of the season for me along with his story in general. I love him so much. I love them so much. While I hated how Dean acted in the 1st half of S13, it allowed me to see Sam. Really see him. And I finally became a true fan of Sam too. I embraced our similarities. #SamIsMe is one of my favorite tags now. I look at the gifs I tagged under it fairly often. I even became a fan of Sam and Cas scenes.

While Season 13 and 14 have been far from perfect in my eyes, I have learned to appreciate what I still love about the show - the characters that make up Team Free Will 2.0, and the moments between them that I adore.

I will miss the show after Season 15 ends. The problems I had with the writing in the later years never changed how I felt about the show in general, how I felt about the characters.

The show’s seen me through so much. My depressing times in middle school when I was bullied, the high school years that dragged by despite enjoying it for the most part, and my college years of fighting to keep up my grades. Whenever I was down, I often thought to myself “at least your life is not as bad as Dean and Sam’s - you can get through this” and I felt better. lol

Supernatural’s even taught me a few things. The one that stands out to me most was mentioned earlier, and was spoken by my “Uncle Bobby”:

Family don’t end with blood.

#Supernatural #Get To Know Me 2019 #SPN Fandom #Supernatural Series End #SPN Season 15 Talk

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ezilyamuzed · 7 years ago

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There’s no place like home- Part Two

Summary: The reader has had a unique gift all her life. While considering it a curse, she discovers the identity of her real father after her mothers passing. Journeying towards her new life, she finds herself thrown within the Winchester’s world. Is it her destiny?

Setting: End of season 13. This takes place between 13.17 and 13.18.

Warnings: language. POV may switch after certain sections.

A/N: I am new at posting these online, so please be patient. Do not mistake my lack of experience for ignorance if I do not quite get it yet. Sorry for any grammatical errors. This is part two of a series that has been in the works while watching the episodes unfold. Thanks for taking the time to read! Comments are always appreciated.

Series Masterlist

Sam couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt. What you said about them ruining the world wasn’t exactly wrong. They didn’t mean to do any of those things, but somehow they were always involved in a major way when it came to the impending doom of humanity. Saving people was what their ultimate goal was, but in the process they have ended up hurting so many others. So many that they cared about that they promised to protect. What exactly would Bobby have said when she yelled at them? What would he have done? Sam knew one thing for sure, Y/N had to be protected. Not only was she Bobby’s daughter, but a girl that had a pretty normal life while trying to hunt monsters a concept impossible to him to even fathom. The idea that any harm could happen to her made Sam feel like his insides were twisted. He had to make this better for her. He had to watch over her. That’s what a brother would do, and as far as he was concerned she was family now.

Dean was already passed out when Sam got back. He had been able to get a couple hours of sleep in before Dean had texted and said they needed to meet. He sat in the raggedy old chair in the hotel and opened up his lap top, curious as to what Y/N was and who she was. What did she say she could do? Read auras? Did that mean she was clairvoyant? Probably not, didn’t really fit her description of her capabilities. Sam dug through the web trying to see if anything popped up that made sense. Synesthesia came up came up after a couple of pages, the crossing of the senses. Maybe this was it or at least a scientific reasoning behind her abilities? Sam could not help but to think he was wasting his time now as the afternoon approached. A google search was not going to answer all of his questions. Perhaps she was a new type of supernatural being. Cas would probably know, but who knows where he was right now. Whatever she is, Sam couldn’t help but to think how useful having powers like that would be on the road during a normal hunt. Right now he wished that was all he had in front of him. A normal monster or a quick salt and burn. He could already feel the stress rising in him as he thought about the impending doom that seemed inevitable. Michael and his angels destroying the world.

Dean started shifting in the bed like he was going to wake up. Sam shut the lap top and stared at his brother still snoring. Dean was such an ass to her before. How could she even consider them being around? Not only was Dean an ass, but she clearly had hatred for the name Winchester. Sam wanted to prove her wrong. They weren’t the fuckups that she had heard of, they were just normal good guys trying to help the world. Well as normal as they could be in this life. It wasn’t their fault that they were born to lead this life. Higher powers pushed them towards it. He picked up the keys to the impala and set forth to Y/N’s hotel. He had to try again with her.

After figuring out which room she was in by showing one of the fake badges to the front desk Sam walked up to her door. Definitely not the kind of hotel he was used to. You could actually smell something sweet in the air, not the musty smell of aged furniture. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

“No housekeeping!” yelled Y/N on the other side.

“Y/N, its Sam.” He yelled back through the door while shifting his weight in unease.

Y/N opened the door looking like death had run her over. Hair in a tangled bun of a mess on top of her head and make up smeared around her eyes. Sam tried not to glance down and notice the too short of shorts on her with an oversized Journey tee.

“Hey Y/N, I’m sorry if I woke you up. I figured you might want a ride to your car and maybe some lunch?” Sam said apprehensively.

She rubbed her eyes, only spreading the make up more. She looked like a little raccoon now. A short little raccoon that was probably capable of taking him down within seconds.

“Yeah, sounds okay. Give me 10 minutes okay? I’ll meet you in the lobby” she said with her eyes half shut and a yawn escaping her mouth.

____________________________________________________________

Ugh, who the hell is it knocking on your door this early?

“No housekeeping!” you yelled while still holding the pillow tight to your face. You glanced at the clock on the little nightstand next to you realizing it was well after noon as you heard the voice from behind the door yell that it was Sam. The giant of a man with puppy dog eyes was knocking on your door after you had basically told him that you hated him and his brother. What could he possibly want? You got up from the bed, not caring what you looked like. He was no one that you cared at all to impress, even with him trying to ask nice last night.

As you opened up the door he immediately spoke up as if he was holding in a speech he had prepared. You needed to get your car and the rumble in your stomach told you that you should probably eat something sooner rather than later. He was trying and you could see it. It would take a lot to change your mind about him and his brother, but you appreciated his effort. You reluctantly agreed while remembering that you did care at least a little bit about others seeing you in this condition, so you told him to give you a few minutes.

You looked at yourself in the bathroom mirror as you turned on the hot water. God you looked like hell. No not hell, you looked like you just wrestled with a werewolf and won. A grin appeared on your face remembering how easy it was to drop him down. The grin grew a bit larger when you remembered the look of shock on Dean’s face like he couldn’t believe someone like you just took down the Big Bad wolf. There was an appreciation in proving that you weren’t just some “little girl” which he had called you during your initial encounter.

The dream you had about Charlie started to rise into your thoughts. She was right about one thing, they were handsome. But you could not see how they were like brothers to someone who was so warm and fun to be with. You wondered if you should mention her in front of them, but decided that since you haven’t seen her in years it was probably a bad idea. What if they no longer spoke? Even worse, in this business what if something happened to her because of them?

You threw on a white t-shirt, a clean pair of jean shorts and your comfy sneakers. You were able to get rid of the raccoon eyes, but there was no need to apply any other make-up. Again, you didn’t care to impress your driving companion on the way to your car and food. You brushed your teeth and hair fast while you looked around for your things. Wallet, keys, and knife. Check.

It had only taken 15 minutes since Sam walked away from your door to get ready. He could live with the extra 5 minutes you took. You see him standing in the lobby looking very out of place amongst the business men checking in and the dolled up housewives gripping their purses and shopping bags. He wore very beat up jeans, boots, and yet another flannel shirt. Did this man not realize it was almost summer?

He smiled at you as you walked past him, immediately heading for the old impala. This was the car that was parked next to yours when you met them. It had seemed like it was in pristine condition when you had rushed past it yesterday to get into your car. After last night’s adventures and the brightness of the sun today you start to notice that this car has been through a lot. Tiny little marks along the fenders suggest that the drive on the dirt road last night had definitely not been the first. As Sam opened the door for you, you slid in and noticed how worn the steering wheel was, like someone had held on to it for life on more than one occasion. The seats worn down suggesting that hours have been spent by people sitting in them. A slight smell of men’s musk filled the air as you shut the door. These boys spend way too much time in here. A slight smile came across your lips when you realized that one could say that same about your baby, you spent way too much time with her as well.

Sam had already gotten in as you looked over to him and said, “Nice car here”. He gave you a smile back as he turned the ignition over bringing her to life. The purr of your baby always provided a soothing release for you when you were stressed, and this one was no different.

“Thanks, it was my dad’s” he said while making sure there was no one in his way as he backed out of the spot.

“Was?” you asked trying to be civil and have a simple conversation to get to know this man more. It’s not like they gave any insight to their lives, and while you knew about them you never heard their full story.

While not letting his eyes leave the road he simply replied, “Yeah. He died about 12 years ago now.”

You couldn’t help but to feel bad that you had brought it up. Even with all of your training you have had in being empathetic when emotional situations were brought up, you did not want to use any of them right now. He was not your client. He was just a man giving you a ride to your car was the agreement you had come to within your thoughts.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “So in like 5 blocks you are going to make a right.”

He nodded in agreement with your directions. He might have actually been aware of where he was going already. Dean probably told him. He reached over to the radio and turned on whatever tape was inside. A smirk ran across your face as you started to recognize the tune. “Of Wolf and Man by Metallica,” you found yourself stating towards Sam.

His eyebrows raised and glanced over at you with a smirk on his face. “I don’t know really anyone else but my brother that could name that song so fast.”

“Well some people I guess don’t appreciate the greats in the world,” you said while looking up ahead. “I’m parked right over there”.

Sam looked into the direction that you were pointing and let out quick laugh. “That is your car?”

You looked at him confused and quickly answered “yes” with a hint of a question mark at the end. Was he being a typical guy and thinking that a girl didn’t deserve to be driving a “man’s car” or was he really interested?

“When we saw it yesterday at the coffee shop Dean stared it down. I think secretly he liked it but of course this will always be baby,” he said while patting the dashboard.

Baby? Dean calls his car baby too? You started to feel yourself becoming disgusted by all the things you were finding to have in common with this man, but also intrigued at what else you might share with him. Maybe if he wasn’t such an ass you might have considered getting to know him.

He pulls right up next to your baby and your heart sank as you saw it. FUCK! The back window laid in shards all over the ground. You jumped out before Sam had even fully stopped the car. This was not happening. Who hurt your baby? Your fists start to tighten up next to you as you hear Sam on the phone with whom you presumed to be Jody telling her what had happened.

Only 30 minutes later you found yourself saying goodbye to your baby as she was being pulled by a tow truck to the local repair shop. Jody was down to you within minutes going over every detail in your car to make sure that nothing had been taken. She had reassured you that she would figure it out, but you knew that there was probably a slim chance in actually catching the assholes responsible.

Sam sat down next to you on the curb as the tow truck pulled away. You tried to cover up the tears that started growing in your eyes. Don’t let him see how much this hurt you. How everything just kept going from bad to worse. He moved his arm to embrace you, but stopped himself short as you started to tense up at his presence.

“Take me back Sam,” You said softy while looking away in the distance.

Sam looked at you and nodded even though you couldn’t see him. The both of you walked slowly back to the impala in silence and rode back to your hotel.

___________________________________________________________

Dean heard the loud noise of a car door shut outside of his room as he started to wake up. What a night. Bobby’s offspring was just like him; tough and stubborn. He heard a loud knock on his motel room door, he started to reach under his pillow to pull out his hidden gun when he heard the familiar motherly tone yelled at him. “Dean open up.”

He got up and opened the door, stepping to the side for Jody to walk in all dressed in her sheriff’s uniform. “We need to talk,” she said as she sat herself down at the tiny kitchen table. Dean sat down next to her in the other chair at the table as if she was commanding him to do so. She took a deep sigh before looking directly at him and saying, “We’ve got trouble”.

“What kind of trou…” Dean started to ask as Jody stopped him by holding up her phone to show a picture of an old Camaro with a broken out window. “Nice car. Sucks to be the owner. Who’s is its?” he said while wiping the sleep put of his eyes.

“Y/N’s” was all she said while still holding up the phone.

Y/N’s car? The girl had some taste. He definitely didn’t expect that. He thought she was probably an ecofriendly driving judgmental bitch with an attitude.

“Why does her broken out window mean there’s trouble. Maybe she just pissed off someone else with her bitchy attitude?” Dean said while getting up from his seat to grab a water bottle from his bag.

“Because she killed a werewolf last night. Because I watched the footage. Dean, it was another wolf that did this,” she said with concern in her voice.

Ffffuuuccckk. Of course it was. He hadn’t of thought about the fact that werewolves rarely travel alone last night as he had helped her dispose of the body. He took a large gulp from the water bottle. “Claire and Alex are already on it,” said Jody from behind him.

“So you want us to help them gank this monster?” Dean said while turning back to her.

“No I want you and Sam to watch out for Y/N. She doesn’t know yet, and honestly with all the crap that she has walked into in the last couple of days, I don’t really want her to.”

“So babysitting duty?” Dean said with a scowl on his face.

Jody gave him a smirk while she crossed her arms. “Think of it as a chance to actually get to know one another. Your latest impressions didn’t exactly woo her into thinking that you are a good guy.” She got up to walk to him and placed her hand gently on his shoulder. “Prove to her that Bobby helped raise the decent man I know you to be. Show her all the goodness that I know you like to hide away from the world.”

Dean sighed and looked her in the eyes, “I’ll try. I can’t say that I will like it, but I will try”.

Jody had left soon after, letting Dean know that she or one of the girls will stay in contact about the wolf hunt. Dean was already showered and dressed when he heard the door unlocking with Sam following directly in with the swoosh of the door.

“So Y/N’s managed to piss off something else,” Dean said while tossing his dirty clothes in his bag. Sam’s eyes widen, questioning how Dean could possibly have known about her car. “Jody stopped by.”

Sam nodded and sat down on the bed while opening up his lap top. “Jody said the girls were on the case. We are on babysitting duty,” Dean said while grabbing a beer out of the little green and white cooler that was their traveling companion.

Sam looked up from his screen, “So what’s the plan?”

Dean paused and shrugged. He looked down at his beer. “This,” he said with a shrug while shaking his bottle.

______________________________________________________________

When Jody had watched the video footage from the bar, the feeling of dread was confirmed. Another werewolf had smashed out Y/N's window because of the scent she had left at the scene. Dean was there too, so he was probably in danger as well. He, of course, would run at the chance to take down a werewolf, but that is not what he should be doing right now. He should be trying to get to know Y/N, Bobby's daughter. She made the call that the boys wouldn't be involved in this hunt. Not this time.

After visiting Dean at the hotel to implement her plan of making Dean and Sam spend time with Y/N, she went back home where Donna, Alex, and Claire were waiting.

"We got a job to do," Jody said to the group of girls sitting around the kitchen table.

"What kind of job?" Claire asked with excitement. It had been a couple of days of quiet around the area, and Jody knew she was getting restless.

"There was a werewolf attack last night over at the Irish pub," Jody started to reply, but Alex interrupted her.

"There wasn't any news at the hospital about an attack, just a drunk girl that was passed out in their ally."

Jody nodded in agreement. "Yeah, he was stopped before any damage was done to his victim."

"So if he was stopped, then what are we doing here then?" Claire said with a roll of her eyes.

Jody glanced back and forth between the three women in front of her and sighed audibly. "There's another one hot on their tail. They attacked their car that was left at the bar last night. It was it was probably just following the scent." Jody said reluctantly.

She knew that she should have had the conversation with the girls about Y/N, but she hadn't been ready. Every time she thought about the news the last couple of days has brought, emotions fled through her that she didn't want to face. No. It was that she couldn't face them. Anything that brought up the memory of Bobby made her feel completely helpless. She knew that there was nothing that she could have done to save him aside from selling her soul to make a deal, but he would never have wanted that. Bobby Singer was a selfless man, who only cared about the safety of others. A trait that she had noticed about Y/N as well.

Jody knew she couldn't keep everything to herself anymore as she started to explain everything from the beginning. The girls all listened quietly while giving their full attention to the story of Bobby's daughter, her gifts, and her quick takedown of the beast.

"So it's mate, she's a ticked off, eh?" Donna asked with her Minnesota accent. Jody nodded and gave them a detailed description of her appearance that was seen on the camera footage.

"So why exactly aren't the Winchester's doing anything? Or that girl for that matter, since obviously, she can take care of herself. Why is this our case?" Claire asked while raising an eyebrow to Jody.

"Things definitely did not go well between them. Dean was his normal charming self when he is suspicious of someone’s intentions," Jody said while rolling her eyes towards Donna.

"Oh, I know how that one looks. He's not the friendliest hunter in the bunch when he gets his nerves all riled up," Donna replied while looking towards the two younger girls.

Jody nodded in agreement. She returned her eyes to Claire that was still awaiting an answer to her question. Jody sighed heavily, hoping that they would agree with the decision she had made.

"They need this. They all need to be forced together to realize how stubborn everyone is being. For the sake of Bobby's memory."

Claire went to speak, but stopped herself short and sat back in the chair and nodded.

"She doesn't know about the second wolf in town, and the boys think they are just babysitting her for her own safety. If trouble finds them, I know that they will be fine as a group. Sticking together like a family keeps us all safer than when you are alone," Jody said calmly while shifting her eyes between the three women in front of her.

Donna smiled a toothy grin at them all. "Let's go save our family then huh?"

______________________________________________________________

Sam hadn’t protested too much at Dean’s idea of going to a bar with Y/N. The way that Y/N had acted earlier, she might actually need it. He followed his brother to the car, allowing Dean to be the driver as he gave directions to Y/N’s hotel. He took the lead towards her room and gave a little knock at which Dean rolled his eyes to. Y/N opened up the door, looking like she had just recently showered and changed again. Her face looked like she was shocked and confused as to why they were at her door again.

“Hey Y/N, we were around and figured that you would probably be getting hungry here since you didn’t eat earlier. We were hoping that maybe you would like to go get something with us? Maybe try that start over I was talking about before?” Sam said giving her the best puppy dog eyes he could muster while awaiting her reply.

She gave a deep sigh and said yes. She took a minute within her room to collect her things and followed behind the boys to the car outside. Sam knew Dean would want to drive, so he politely told Y/N that he would take the back. She raised her eyebrows at him while giving him a look up and down. “I’ll fit,” Sam said with a smirk as he opened up her door and let himself into the back door.

After a couple of minutes in a silent car ride, they were all getting out the impala and walking toward another worn down bar on the outskirts of town. It is surprising how many run down bars a town can have, and how his brother always knew where to find them. Then again if you couldn’t find Dean all you would have to do is follow the smell of stale cigarettes and whisky to find him held up in a corner usually.

“I thought you said food?” asked Y/N while looking in Sam’s direction.

Dean spoke with a cocky grin, “Don’t worry they got that here too princess.”

This was going to be interesting. Hopefully neither one stabs someone by the end of the night. Sam rolled his eyes while shaking his head as he followed Y/N and Dean inside, hoping that tonight he would prove that they aren’t who she thinks they are.

Keep reading- part three here

#spnfandom #spn #noplacelikehome #spn fan #spn 13 #dean x sam x reader #part two of many #first time don't kill me

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awed-frog · 8 years ago

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The Season Finale/Bye, Boys

I know I'm late - I had to work all day yesterday and today, and when I first got those jobs I’d anticipated I'd be frustrated about missing the finale live, but, well - after last week's episode, I mostly wasn't interested at all. When I sat down tonight to watch it, I almost didn't want to. I was highkey convinced I wouldn't like it, and, yeah, I didn't. Not particularly. I've suspected for a while that Supernatural lost its grandeur and sense of tragedy years ago, and all that's left is a bunch of occasionally magnificent, but mostly unconnected, monster hunts - that they're grasping at straws to avoid going down paths that would actually make sense because they don't want to go there - and this finale confirmed all that with the subtlety of a badly driven tank.

(Really - I was hoping things would be different, but they're not. As much as this show held my hand and made me laugh and cry in difficult moments and distracted me when real life was plain unbearable, the magic is no longer there. I watched the finale with that same awful weight in your stomach you feel when faced with that one person you no longer love - when you look and look and you don't understand how you could ever love them in the first place, and then your eye catches something - they way their mouth curves into a smile, perhaps, or the once beloved lilt in their voice, and you realize that oh, that's how.

But still, it's over.)

So, what happens next?

The honest answer is, I don't know. I've been mostly off tumblr for a week, and while I missed chatting and talking with you guys, this self-imposed break really brought home just how my world has shrunk. I tend to be very intense in what I like, and over the last year, 90% of my free time has been Supernatural. Writing stories, writing metas, creating the odd graphic, reblogging other people's posts and ooohing and aaaawing at their creations and insight - that was great, but it also cut my mental landscape into a tiny little postcard. And this past week - I did things. I discovered new stuff, I read real books, I faffed around weird Wikipedia pages, I lost myself in other series, I planted beans and basil and edible flowers. And I liked it - a lot. So whatever I do next, I'll be on tumblr a lot less, because - I’m sorry - I’ve been fearing for a while that Supernatural simply wasn't worth this level of devotion, and this finale pretty much confirmed that. So - really - I’ll keep reblogging gifs and I’ll probably write the occasional headcanon and feel free to ask me things and come talk to me and everything else, but please know that I'm not that positive about this show anymore, so if you want rainbows and ponies, my blog's probably not the best place to get them. I'll definitely keep writing, and I hope I've got enough love left in me to finish my DCBB, but other than that - I think I'm done. It's likely I'll watch the show next year, but I'll certainly not anticipate new episodes and squeal at the screen and bleed my own blood all over it or anything. And maybe this will hurt at some point - God, I loved this show so goddamn much - but for now I'm just numb.

So, here goes - quite possibly, my last meta.

Cas: Yes, They Went There

This is what we’re all wondering, isn’t it? Is Cas really dead?

No, he isn't. If Misha was leaving the show, we'd know about it. Like, of course they'd keep it under wraps until the last episode, but it'd be out today - no reason it wouldn’t. Plus, from a narrative point of view, Cas' death doesn't make any sense. He just died after fucking up - again - and he never got to make his Big Choice between Heaven and *coughs* humanity, plus they're having so much fun jerking us around with that yeah so maybe he and Dean they're in love thing, why would they stop now? So, honestly, his 'death' was his only good moment during this season finale. Like, he obviously wasn't brainwashed brainwashed, so it didn't make any sense he wouldn't involve Sam and Dean in his overly simplistic scheme, plus he's been acting stupid and out of character the whole time he was on screen - and, I get Cas is hard to write, but come on. Renting a cabin under the name James Novak when he can hypnotize it out of some guy without leaving a paper trace? Reading books and taking online classes about childbirth? This from a guy who's not a guy at all and has instinctive knowledge of physics and whatever and knows perfectly well that thing inside Kelly isn't a human child, anyway, so he might as well take woodworking classes for all the good that would do him? Uh. Not to mention his random snooping into alternate dimensions he knew nothing about when he was supposed to be taking care of Kelly - if AU!Bobby had killed him, or if he'd fallen into a pit or whatever else, Kelly would have remained alone in that cabin basically waiting for Lucifer to find her. Honestly - why do they bother writing Cas at all if they can't get him right?

Destiel: Still Subtext

And more bad news: five seasons of queerbaiting - and counting. This season finale had to be the one with the least amount of UST or pining or any kind of fuckery between them since, I don’t know, ever? Sure, there were moments, and I could list them, but why should I? Look at Cas doing his own thing, and what does it matter if he was staring at the water (possibly thinking about that fish which started everything, and by everything I mean Cas’ love for humanity, and by humanity I mean Dean), and what does it matter if Dean, as usual, is the one fretting about Cas and worrying about Cas and being all undignified and unmanly? It's been years, and Dean was unusually chatty during the whole finale, so I'm sure some of us were like, ALERT ALERT THIS IS WHEN IT HAPPENS (not me, because I'm grumpy and disillusioned), and nope, not the time. Better luck next season, guys.

Honestly, at this point there are no good options.

Like, I’m sure there are already two hundred codas out there about the Nephilim resurrecting Cas and Dean kissing him out of sheer relief, but yeah - that’s not gonna happen. My bet is - if they’re being decent about things, Cas will be saved in some way and the eye fucking will start again, dragging on and on to some series finale which, no doubt about it, will indicate the two of them are actually sleeping together, because look at that painting in the background and the label on that beer - it’s obvious; and if they’re not being decent about things, our Cas is definitely dead and Sam and Dean will meet AU!Cas in their search for Mary and at that point things will get Weird, because Dean will be Grief-stricken and Unhappy, and Cas won’t know or love him at all, and then what? Again, at best the whole thing is definitely gone and buried and Supernatural will remain the main Wikipedia example for queerbaiting (but until that very last moment, we’ll speculate this is really about destiny and falling in love in every universe and whatever), and at worst we’ve got yet another cringeworthy dance between the two of them as Dean gets over AU!Cas just as AU!Cas falls for Dean, cue romance tropes, cue will they/won’t they, cue shoot me now.

Guys - I still believe there was something there. More: I believe it was subtextually indicated, for years, that Dean and Cas were in love, and this season kept giving us confirmation that subtext is a thing and that it matters (the latest hint to date is Dean’s I’m actually Sam’s parent speech), but the fact is, subtext is not enough. There are dozens of ways to bring a romance into text without resolving it so it stays ‘interesting’, and the fact they haven’t done it yet - we should stop excusing their behaviour. If Cas had been a woman, the possibility of a relationship would be confirmed by now. So, whatever.

Gold Star, Sammy!

For someone who's been pretty much a secondary character in his own story for the whole season, or, let's be mean, the whole show after S5, Sam suddenly got some unexpected attention, and was the only person to get a win out of this finale. His character development was mostly subtextual, but it was clearly leading somewhere, and this was exactly it. Sam's naturally ambitious and driven, and he's suppressed this aspect of his personality for years because freak and vessel of Lucifer and whatever else, but now, after years and years of penance and invisibility and praying to a God who didn't give a flying fuck about him, it looks like Sammy's all grown up. Yay. There he is, a leader of man, a consummate warrior, a witch. Not hiding, not underplaying his skills, not feeling guilty at all - and finally. Sam got to hug his mother and defeat all of his archenemies - the BMoL's gone, Toni's gone, Lucifer's gone, and Crowley's gone. And none of them need to weigh on his conscience, because, lookie here, Sam sort of forgave them all (except Lucifer, but, then again, he's not really dead, is he?). No, Sam got to reject the BMoL's pernicious influence on his pure, noble soul, he got to work with Toni, who'd cruelly taunted and tortured him, and he got to be nice to Crowley, which mostly didn't make any sense because Crowley and Sam always hated each other. And even the fact he lost Mary and Cas in the end - that doesn't affect his shiny character arc at all. Sam's been ready to lose Cas several times before now, and he's accepted it in a way Dean never has; and as for Mary - narratively, Sam got what he needed from her: a declaration of love and an admission of guilt - the confirmation that nothing was ever actually his fault. Now he can finally move on.

I have to say - despite the fact it was a fucking long time coming, this sudden bout of character development felt hurried to me. All that talk about leading others - when had Sam ever expressed an open interest in it? Until last season, he seemed warily determined to settle down with ‘someone who understands the life’ and be as normal as he could, and now out of the blue he’s King bloody Arthur? Like Crowley’s sudden meekness and suicidal schemes, Sam becoming the top pilot of the Rebellion was not out of character, exactly, but was rushed and badly written - this whole episode felt like someone had said, Okay, these characters need to get here, and there’s this chapter in the middle which explains how but lolz, who’s got time to write that? Let’s skip to the good parts. Rewrite, try again

Dean “I hate that I love you” Winchester

Dean is Sam’s parent - this has been my Dean tag for a while, and boy, they went to such lengths to finally confirm it textually it was very nearly out of character. Because, I mean, this is Dean, and as much as I appreciated that whole speech, that's so not who he is. I'm going to be generous and say he was under the effects of a lot of drugs, but still - this is the guy who never blurted out more than one tearful line in his entire life when under threat of imminent death, and speaking from the heart with such eloquence is not really his thing. Jensen pulled it off, but only just. But, whatever - nice to see some of the subtext they weave in this show is actually significant - and, full offense, now that it's textually confirmed Dean always felt like a parent to Sam, more than a brother, I hope that those who are convinced he actually wants to bend Sam over a couch and do “bad things” with him will finally take a cold shower (possibly with holy water) and step away from the whole thing.

Other than that moment, though, which, dreamworld or not, Dean really needed, this season was disastrous for him. His arc's been downwards as much as Sam's been upwards, and, as we predicted, Dean ended his year in a very low place. Both his parent figures are gone - Mary swallowed by an alternate dimension, Bobby who flat-out didn't recognize him - Cas spent weeks ignoring him and now he's dead, Crowley's also dead (and however much they tried to downplay their relationship in this finale, we know there was something there), and the world is ending - again - because Dean didn't need to wait for the birth to know in his heart Lucifer's kid's gonna be a threat to, like, everything.

So, uhm, I really don’t know how to feel about things. Dean tried to be more open this season, which mostly went badly for him, but he also fixed things with his family - look at him letting Sam step away into danger (and, I mean, we don’t need any more confirmation because text, but in that moment he was definitely coded as Sam’s parent) and focusing on helping his mom instead (anon - I know I still have to answer your question about why I think Dean’s perfectly happy fixing cars and baking pies for his family while Sam’s off to Congress, and that meta’s mostly written, but here you see it again - Dean, the feminine, blue-collar character, is content with staying at home while his masculine, Ivy League educated brother goes off to war). I guess this means the brodependency is definitely over? Too bad Dean will be too busy mourning Cas and saving the world to actually appreciate it.

(Then again, #NoHomo.)

Crowley: At Last, We Know

Crowley's arc has trasparently clear for a while, and it's mirrored Cas' so precisely the question of his death was becoming a when, and not an if. When we were speculating about his fate, I wrote somewhere that much would depend on the kind of story they were writing - if this is a coming of age thingy, then Crowley wouldn't have needed to die, because he's not a father figure (no matter how many times Dean’s called him Daddy); but if this is a tragedy, then the textbook solution was to have him die for the heroes. It's a The Last of the Mohicans ending: an überdramatic I know you'll never love me but I care so much about you I'll sacrifice myself all the same thing, and, look - what can I even say?

I'm upset because I really liked Crowley and there was so much we didn't know about him and Mark is outstanding and aaaaaargh. On the other hand, at least they did him the courtesy of a noble ending (Rowena, of course, being a silly woman, got a humiliating and prolonged off-screen death, because, yeah, who cares, and the same pattern was applied to Toni and Ketch) and he got to bow out on his own terms: for Dean, and with a self-inflicted wound.

Still, his death, like Eileen's, signals there's no believable happy ending in sight for our forlorn heroes. They'll probably stay alive long enough to kill the Nephilim and fall into the Apocalypse World of Doom™, and then they'll die*.

*Terms and conditions apply, because it would make sense if they died and it would make for a heartbreaking, tragic ending, but hey, the movie deal's still on the table so better leave everything unresolved and have them drive off into the sunset on their own.

Mary: No Means Yes

I know some people like Mary, and I do think she was a good character, but as a person, she was kind of awful. I won't go back to everything she did wrong all season, but I will point out that her only redemptive point is that she sucked as a mom because she was not a Traditional Woman, and that sort of made her interesting and we raved about their courage all season, right? How Mary could have been a 1950s housewife and instead look at her - much BAMF, such wow. And yet we now know that Mad Max woman I do what I want façade was just that - a façade. Because when Mary was brainwashed, where was the real part of herself? Her most cherished piece of soul? The writers left no doubt, no margin for error: back in the kitchen, preparing horribly unhealthy yet terribly American lunches for toddler Dean, cooing at baby Sammy, her flat spotless (where are Dean's toys?), her ironing almost done. This is, apparently, the person she wishes she could be - what every woman should aspire to be: a mom who's 100% dedicated to her kids - someone who hovers around the house in her nightgown, ethereal and effortlessly beautiful and probably shaved bald (legs and armpits and lady bits shaved and trimmed and waxed and moisturised and perfumed and pleasantly soft and babyish), humbly content with this family God has given her. And, by the way, when she gets back to reality, that's who she becomes - she shoots Ketch, who'd dared to sully her marital bed and hurt Dean, she sobs in Sam's shoulder, she anxiously looks after Kelly because women always bond over periods and pregnancy and mascara and stuff, she tearily reassures Kelly that yes, dying for your unborn son, even if that son is a demon and the scourge of the Earth, is the done thing and anyone would do the same; her final act - punching Lucifer in the face - is completely out of character for the smart, ruthless hunter we know she can be. Instead, it speaks of a mother’s love - a kind of adrenalinic - you hurt my baby boy, I’ll make you bleed sort of thing. This, of course, is supposed to speak in her favour, because give me an emotional woman over a rational one any day. Honestly, if I didn't find Mary so annoying I would welcome the moment when she'll meet the other Mary - the woman who let her boyfriend die rather than dooming the world. As it is, I’m finding it hard to be excited about anything S13 has to bring, though.

Kelly: Blessed Are You among Women

I know that Supernatural doesn’t have the best record with women, and this finale, even coming as it did on the legacy of Eileen’s death, did not disappoint: from Toni playing her mother card and then dying off-screen, to Rowena left a burned husk in a non-descript room, to Mrs Hess cowardly attempting to escape as her operatives kept fighting around her, both episodes were a testosterone festival of testicles and bad beer. Still, what they did to Kelly was very nearly unforgivable. To recap: they basically took a smart, modern, career-driven woman, had her raped by her actual lover (marital rape’s still not a crime in 49 countries, by the way, and it was completely legal in many Western countries until the 1990s), got her pregnant, and then turned her into a Stepford mother. Because, of course - what else could she do? Get an abortion? I know we’re all theoretically in favour of that, but who can really go through with it, the heartless monster? And as for killing yourself - it may be your life, your body and your decision, but it's also a sin, and a big no no. Just be grateful your demon baby still needs your internal organs to survive and shut up. So, well - they basically sucked away her every choice Kelly had until she was this bouncing pregnant ball who got no say over her own destiny and on top of that, her last few days were spent building Ikea furniture and painting a nursery for the literal Antichrist who'd claw his way through her stomach to be born. Honestly - I'd say I haven't seen such a demeaning and antifeminist storyline since the last encyclical letter - except I saw the exact same thing on The Magicians only three weeks ago, so apparently misogyny's back in fashion?

Then again, we already knew that. Just look at how people are voting.

(If you're interested, hedge witch Julia, raped by a god, manages to abort after a series of mishaps - like, the Planned Parenthood doctor who tries to help her is brutally murdered by a demon of some kind and Julia has to rob a bank and doom a friend to certain death in order to get another procedure because pregnant women are selfish bitches - only, what do you know, that part of her soul who could feel love and empathy is snipped right up along with her uborn child, so whooopsie. She'll only get her back if she forgives her rapist, and she does, because that's apparently our role as women in 2017 and fifty years of feminism taught us nothing.)

Bite-sized Rants

Toni being a mother - yeah, that didn't have anything to do with anything and that last scene of S11 was just proof of how little they plan ahead. I just read somewhere that this is the problem with modern television - that series will be automatically canceled or renewed no matter the storyline depending on how much money they make, and this means nothing makes sense anymore - stories that were supposed to last one season are artificially stretched to last forever because ratings, while things that were conceived as trilogies - we’ll never know how they end, because not enough people were watching. So, I mean - I am sort of pleased that I got there before they did and wrote a line one year ago about Dean eventually forgiving Toni because ‘a parent’s love - that something he understands’ - because, yeah, that's exactly the ploy Toni used on Dean and it worked, so, points, but at the same time - that whole BMoL thing was so wonky and stereotyped and Nazi-shaped and My God, really? The only character who barely made sense there was Ketch, but, unfortunately, that’s also the easiest character to write and the one who’s most commonly found on our screens: Trigger-happy Psychopath Charms Everyone with His Wit and Good Looks.

(Plus, Ketch was yet another piece of the Dean is Bi mosaic that went nowhere, so I’m not feeling very charitable right now.)

The other hunters - look, it's just not believable anymore. So apparently Sam and Dean know who everyone else is, people are okay following Sam anywhere even if he used to be the actual Antichrist or whatever and there are rumors about how he went to Hell and I don't know what else, and on top of that this Men of Letters thing is just something everybody knows about now? And yet Sam and Dean never contact these people, and more importantly, don't share their super secret Bunker full of weapons and lore with any of them? Not even Jody? Nice, guys. Real grand of you.

(Plus, what is this bullshit - why do Sam and Dean send everyone home after torching the BMoL’s HQ when they know perfectly well Lucifer and/or the Nephilim are about to destroy the actual world? Maybe ask for some back-up there?)

Cosmic consequences, shmosmic consequences. Dean killed Death, and so what? Cas killed Billie, and so what? There is no way to even argue the current mess has to do with the cosmic consequences Billie promised, because all of it is basically of their own doing: Mary walking away when she should have stayed, Sam trusting the BMoL even as they kept kidnapping him and threatening him and killing random people, Cas being his usual self-sacrificing self and Crowley thinking he knows better than anyone else (or, well, as this episode pointed out - they both “needing a win”) - there was no supernatural involved there. So...?

(Plus, this is yet another example of a big narrative thing of the Destiel variety going nowhere. Cas killing Billie for Dean, Cas nearly dying while confessing his love right, left and centre and then - out of nothing, here is the ‘divorced parents’ routine - Cas is decorating a nursery with a brainwashed Stockholm victim and Dean’s priority is to - who even knows?)

That reference to Romani people was almost worse than that bit about the Arab Spring. Please, for the love of God - your show is watched abroad. If you do use history or politics, maybe Google it first?

The BMoL have te power to create ‘mystical dampeners against magic’ and yet they absolutely needed to kidnap Mary to ensure the continuation of their evil schemes?

Sam and Dean can become virgins again but can’t mix themselves some old-fashioned explosive?

Mrs Hess had people studying the Winchesters for years and yet she doesn’t know which is which?

Dean finally got to fire his grenade launcher and we didn’t even see it clearly?

Handful of Disorganized but Well-meaning and Kind-Hearted American Mavericks Defeat Superpowerful European Organization Complete with Private Army Without Breaking a Sweat - Jesus, enough.

Claire was too busy to save the world? Where was she? Coachella?

Crowley looking at Dean when he called them beautiful, that fight between Ketch and Dean being heavily paralleled with Dean beating up Cas...when are they going to bring that stuff out of the subtext?

Cas being so easily seduced by Paradise - didn’t Dean reject those exact concepts back in S4, and didn’t Cas switch sides because of it? But I suppose he’s just, forgotten, because that’s what happens when you take online lamaze classes or something?

Honestly - I apologize for being so negative. There were some brilliant bits here and there, but as I said - on the whole, I’m just tired. Supernatural seems determined to tell a story by not actually telling it, and at this point I’m really tired of doing the job it for them. I’m fed up by how little Dean cared about Crowley (because, if nothing else, that was one complex and interesting relationship and a narrative dream they threw away out of fear it would awake old ‘Dean is Bi’ ghosts) and I’m fed up by how anticlimatic Dean’s reaction to Cas’ death was (we’ve seen more dramatic scenes over a nose bleed, but I guess these two episodes were so action packed they had no time to insert a random #NoHomo lady, so even a Merthur hug would have been way too much) and I’m fed up by the fact that Jesus Christ, they have such talented people working for them and why won’t they just let them?

Guys, I don’t even - I’m going to bed.

#spn meta #spn 12x22 #spn 12x23 #destiel #sam and dean #kelly kline #spn ending #i didn't like it #so read at your peril

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huntertales · 8 years ago

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Part Two: Imitation is the Sincerest Form of Flattery. (The Real Ghostbusters S05E09)

Useful Links: Last Part | All Episodes Word Count: 5,458. A/N: I honestly didn't think I was going to like writing this episode as I have been, but it's been quite funny seeing how this has been turning out. I hope you guys enjoy this part. More out soon!

You understood the feeling of being sucked into a good book or a TV show, being immersed with the plot and characters that seem to grow on you more through each page you turn or how many episodes you watch. Throwing yourself into other fictional worlds was how you used to cope with the loneliness when you were younger. And sometimes reading a good book was how you could get your mind away from the stresses of being a hunter. But you were finding it hard to understand how people could find your written counterpart so interesting in the book series called "Supernatural." You had abandoned the brothers at the bar about fifteen minutes ago for the merch table that were selling the books for anyone that might want to buy. Nobody was around, giving you a chance to read a book you picked up for random. You skimmed the first few pages with little interest, you had already read half of them online. It was holding the actual paperback in your hands that made this entire situation so surreal.

Your entire life for the past twenty six years was here, from your wicked past of how you came to be from the demon deal your mother made and how they knew Andrew was a demon. Thanks to book number nine and ten. The books even included mentions of your faulty deal with Yellow Eyes for Sam and another one made right after with another demon as an attempt of saving Dean. "No Rest for the Wicked" sure did include every little detail of the final hours of your life from the first kiss with Dean, all the way down to the horrendous twist of fate after the boys realized Lilith was possessing your body, forcing you to watch all before being thrown into the same demise.

Every single internal feeling and deep fear you had ever had was written in black and white, then placed in paperback with some tacky looking cover. It was hard for you to understand how people could love your character so much that they wanted to be like you. Not to mention how everyone in this room thought all of the monster they read about were just fictional beings. And all the hunts you went on was just another adventure they could read about in the comfort of their own home.

"All I'm saying is that Dean always gets the girl. Why can't Sam have a bit of happiness in his life?"

"Because everyone Sam loves dies a slow and agonizing death. Mary and Jess, not to mention Madison. And if you want to blur the lines, I'm sure Ruby didn't stray too far from Hell."

There was a distant conversation not too far from where you were standing about a subject matter that you were growing tired of hearing about. Looking up from the bok, your eyes wandered over to across the room where you saw two girls sitting at a table with a few beers in hand. Both of them were heavily in conversation, not seeming to notice a bystander eavesdropping on their conversation. You watched as both of them argued their points of who Y/N could have ended up with at the end of "Supernatural" if it hadn't ended with two main characters meeting a bloody demise.

One argued that Dean and Y/N had chemistry since the first chapter. She was his mystery woman that he had kept secret for so many years, his last bit of normalcy to a past he didn't even remember before hunting. Her friend tried to argue again that Dean had a chance at something real, and that was with Cassie. Of course, that didn't work out. Her friend argued that Sam was the best fit for Y/N's character. Both of them were children thrown into a lifestyle they didn't want. Each of them found comfort in one another and had a relationship that was natural. He was smart like her, and despite his fatal touch, it seemed like Y/N didn't stay down for long.

Both of the girls, just like everyone in this room, were just having fun. Each of them started smiling and laughing a few moments later, making a few comments about how much they loved Y/N. "I mean, she's a total—" One of them began speaking, but she couldn't finish her sentence when someone poorly dressed as Dean came strolling up, deciding he should have put his opinion in on a conversation that was harmless to begin with.

"Y/N's character is totally pointless, if you ask me." He said with a cocky tone. You narrowed your eyes on him as the girls started to roll their eyes from his opinion nobody asked for. "I hope she stays dead. I mean, what does she even add to the storyline?"

"A lot, actually." One of them remarked. “Considering she’s one of the main characters…”

"She was only added to reach out for a bigger female audience and a cheap attempt at ruining a good storyline for a dumb romance." The man continued on talking, despite the glares he was getting from both of the girls. "Y/N's just as useless as all the other female characters in the book. I bet you in the next one all it's gonna be about is Sam and Dean whining about how they miss Y/N while they try to get revenge on Lilith. Sort of like how they got revenge on Azazel after he killed Mary and Jess. It's gonna be the same plotline all over again.”

"Is that, so?" The man looked away from the girls to see another voice had jumped into the conversation. He found himself letting out a chuckle to see you standing there with a brow arched up and your arms crossed over your chest. " I have to disagree. I think she's done a lot of hard work over the past several yea—I mean, books. I think she's worked her ass over enough to get some credit. She's done a lot."

"Like, what? Get captured by the bad guys half the time? Or maybe it's getting herself almost killed because she has no idea what's she's doing." He man argues with you, only causing your lips to stretch into a smirk and press your arms tighter around your body. "She's stupid. Not to mention her selling her soul for the boys. She's not a 'strong female character.' She's weak, stupid and shows no redeeming qualities."

"Right. Because Sam and Dean have never done anything stupid to get themselves into trouble. I mean, Y/N made a few mistakes because she was naive and learned how to hunt from the beginning. It’s called character development and learning from her mistakes. And selling her soul for the boys doesn't make her a weak character or a plot device to move the story along. Dean did the exact same thing and I bet you would say that's heroic of him. But if a female does something for a male character it makes her less of. Hmm?" You raised a brow after giving your opinion that he didn't ask for. "Or maybe you don't like Y/N's character—or any of the female characters—is because they're smarter, stronger and level headed than you'll ever be. And for someone like you, who probably still lives in his mom's basement, gets intimated pretty quickly by the opposite gender.”

Both of the girls stared at you with slightly growing grins as each of them reached out to drink their beers. The man tried his hardest to ignore what you had just said, he adjusted himself looked away. You were about to walk away, but something else popped into your head, and it was too good to pass up. "Come to think of it. You and Y/N do have one thing in common." You said as you wagged your index finger at him "Both are you are gonna die virgins, that's for sure."

You turned around in your spot and headed for the bar again, a smirk stretching across your lips as one of the girls let out a giggle as the other accidentally spit out a bit of her drink from what you had said. Nonetheless, the man walked away from the girls, leaving them alone to continue on with their night as you made your way back to the bar where you had left the boys. You lean against the wooden countertop and wave up an arm to get the bartender's attention, all while making sure not to accidentally smack the girl in the face that was sitting on the other side of the bar just a seat down. She didn't seem to realize you were standing next to her as she quietly texted on her phone. You notice from her powdered face to make her complexion and outdated outfit she must have been on the actors working tonight, probably the infamous Leticia Gore that was supposed to be haunting the halls. But it seemed that even ghosts needed a break.

"For the last time, I'm not making this up, okay? She—She's upstairs! A real, live, dead ghost!" You looked over your shoulder to see there was a guy, dressed like Sam, going on about being attacked. You wondered if he was just part of the show, but seeing that he was bleeding from the head and showed discolored bruising, you were starting to believe otherwise. His friend tried to calm him down by saying that it could have been one of the actors just getting too into characters, but he caught him off. "Who beat the crap out me and vanished?"

You looked over at the boys and gave a shrug, thinking that you might have possibly gotten a case here, after all. The three of you walked over to the boys and added yourself into the conversation. "You saw something?" Sam asked rather politely. But the guy thought you were trying to play the game like everyone else causing him to look at the taller man with an annoyed glare.

"Look, this isn't part of the game, jerk." He snapped at the three of you, obviously having had enough of tonight's antics as he looked back over at his friend to tell him the change of plans. "Tim, I'm getting out here, and I suggest you do the same."

You watched as the both of them stormed out, one following the other, making you rather curious of what could be going on around here. Perhaps Chuck wasn't too creative at making up his own story for a change and needed a real haunted place to set up the convention for the feel. "What do you think?" Sam asked the both of you.

"I don't think that guy's good enough actor to be acting." Dean said, you nodded your head in agreement.

You and the boys, in true fashion, decided to as around the staff to see if there was possible truth of what people were saying around here. While you had seen a few people taking part of the festivities, you would only think you would be playing along in the game and tell you the same speech they'd been giving everyone dressed in cheap suits and showing off their fake badges. You wandered around the hotel until you spotted a man working behind the front desk, and showing no interest to what was going on around him. And that was the exact person you wanted to personally talk to. You and the brothers began heading for the front desk, you passed a group of people as they all circled around the same man giving the speech earlier tonight. You passed by them showing no amount of interest as you placed your hand on the wooden countertop.

"Excuse us." You said, catching the man's attention as he looked up from his paperwork. You gave him a polite smile as you tapped your fingertips against the countertop. "Mind if we ask you a few questions?"

"Look, I don't have to play 'Star Wars,' guys." He said, showing little interest in keeping this conversation alive. He pointed the tip of his pen across the room, directing your attention over to the man you had just passed. "Go ask the guy in the ascot.”

You and the boys exchanged a look, knowing this wasn't going to be easy, but there was one way to make anybody talk. Dean reached a hand to his back pocket to pull out his wallet. "Actually, we, uh," Slipping out a fifty dollar bill and across the countertop, the sight of green makes the man look up from his paperwork again. "Really want to talk to you."

"Okay. You guys are really into this." The man laughed out, taken back at the money in front him. He cautiously glanced up to see if all of you were being serious, you gave him a small smile that made him confident enough to quietly grab the money while nobody was looking. "What do you want to know?"

"All this stuff they're saying—place being haunted, Leticia Gore. Is there any truth to it?" You asked him, curious for answers.

"We generally don't like to publicize this to, you know, normal people. But, yeah, in 1909, this place was called Gore orphanage. Miss. Gore killed four boys with a butcher knife, then offed herself." He explained to the three of you, giving the exact same information you had heard earlier tonight. Dean asked him if tonight was really the anniversary of the crime, the man nodded his head. "Yep. Guess your convention folks wanted authenticity."

"There been any sightings?" Sam asked.

"Uh, over the years, yeah. A few maids have quit, saying they heard the boys or saw them." The man said. You listened to what he was saying, not having a clue you had two eavesdroppers on the conversation. "A janitor even saw Miss Gore once."

"Where did Miss Gore carve up the kids?" Dean continued on asking, but it seemed that one came with a higher price point.

"Look, I don't want you stomping all over the joint. A lot of this place is off-limits to nerds." He said, not giving up the answer so easily. You rolled your eyes from the remark as Dean took another fifty out from his wallet and discreetly making another offer the man couldn't refuse. Of course he grabbed the cash and tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket. "The attic."

You gave him another smile and thanked him for the help. All though you weren't too happy at getting this information with a hundred bucks wasted, but you might have actual problems if Miss Gore decided to start carving up a few guests if she gotten word of what was going on around here. You and the boys traveled up to the second floor of the building try and find an entrance to the attic. Sam managed to find the string that dangled from the ceiling, and thanks to his freakishly tall height, he had to just lift up his arm and effortlessly pulled down the flimsy looking ladder that lead to the attic. You always had a little bit of a fear of heights, and looking at the flimsy wood that looked like it couldn't hold your weight without breaking, it made you slightly nervous. But you swallowed down your nervousness as you watched Sam head up first, and besides the creaking coming from the ladder, he made it up relatively safe. You fished out your flashlight and turned it on, making sure to have it handy as you descended your way up to the void of darkness and dust.

Pushing yourself up to a standing position, you left your flashlight on the ground for a moment as you steadied yourself on the attic floor and tried to get the dust off your jeans. You bent back down and grabbed your flashlight to try and navigate your way as Dean crawled his way up from the tiny space that was too narrow for him. You began looking around to look around the place to see what it had become over a hundred years later. Mostly the place had turned into another storage unit for unwanted things like rusty headboards and outdated looking furniture the hotel had long forgotten about. If nobody had heard about the tragic history of this place, someone might not have suspected four brutal murders and a suicide happened right here.

The three of you worked mostly in silence, letting your footsteps treading across the wooden floors and the quiet buzzing coming from the EMF reader be the only noise. Sam stood next to you as he scanned the room to take a brief sweep. You looked over to see the needle was jumping back and forth into place as the little red bulbs were brightly lit. “The EMF’s going nuts.” Sam said.

"Great." You muttered underneath your breath at the dangerous situation that was unfolding. "So, we've got a real ghost, and a bunch of nerds, pretending to be us, poking at it. This isn't gonna end well."

"You know what? Serves them right." Dean said with a snarky tone. You furrowed your brow from his remark as you flashed your light at him. Giving in a dirty look, you mumbled his name underneath your breath as you shook your head. You didn't like this situation as much as he did, but there was no reason to wish harm on someone innocent. It was your job to make sure that didn't happen, much as you despised some of these people. "Well, I'm just saying."

You rolled your eyes from his attitude before parting ways with him, deciding to go on your own for a chance at finding anything that might explain what happened here or where Miss Gore was buried. You didn't have your usual time of research like most hunts. This was more of a spur of the moment with a little bit of background information that was useful enough to know that this place was harboring a malicious spirit that would probably strike again due to some unwanted attention. You quietly wandered through the attic and followed whatever the flashlight could pick up. Mostly all you could see was outdated furniture and rags, not to mention cobwebs and dust. Nothing seemed to have popped out as unordinary, that was, until you heard a childish voice speak from behind you, making you jump a few inches in the air in surprise.

"My mommy loves me." You quickly turned around in your spot to see there was a little boy crouched down in the corner. Your flashlight put a spotlight on him so you could see that he was dressed in dirty clothes, and far outdated for this time period. He stared at you with his hands on his head, and again, he professed something to you. "I said my mommy loves me."

You heard the shuffle of feet across the floor before you saw the boys heading your way at the sound of an unfamiliar voice break the silence. Both of them notice right away of the little boy, you gave him a small smile as you nodded your head. "I'm sure she does." You agreed with the little boy, thinking he must have been one of the victims.

"My mommy loves me this much." The little boy drew out his hands to show you, but you only noticed the wound on his head. Your eyes widened in slight horror at seeing his skull peek through with fresh trickles of blood seeping from the wound. His hair and skin missing from where Miss Gore had butchered it out with the knife. When you glanced back down at the boy, he vanished from your sight, going off back to where he'd been hiding for the past hundred years.

+ + +

You and Dean stayed back, getting a table for yourself and quietly waited for Sam to get back. You scanned the bar to see how things were coming along, only to spot Becky across the room, her gaze solely on the younger Winchester. She quietly sipped on her cocktail and watched as the man. While Sam busied himself with the conversation, Becky was feeling a bit bold. You didn't know if she was starting to feel a bit tipsy from the drinks from what unfolded next. She lifted up her and decided to lick of her hand to blow a pretend kiss at the man, all before topping off the gesture with an awkward attempt at a wink. Sam responded with an awkward wave from across the room, unsure of what the hell just happened.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you looked over at Chuck, who sat right across from her at the table, looking a little defeated. It seemed your assumption about Chuck was right, he was harboring a crush on his number one fan, who was seemingly a little too preoccupied with the other Winchester. "Awesome." Chuck muttered underneath his breath as he brought his beer glass to his mouth, decided that he was in desperate need of a drink.

Becky had a thing for Sam, who she once only thought was just a fictional character by the author Carver Edlund, only to find out that Sam was a very real person and Carver was just a penname for Chuck. Chuck had first used Becky, the self-titled number one fan, as a way to safely transport some useful information after Lucifer was freed from the cage. Only it seems that after being around her for a little while, he was starting to grow fond of her. Meanwhile, Sam was too obvlious to what was going on, and had no desire to even give Becky the time of day. And here you thought things couldn't have gotten any weirder.

"All right. So, that was the guy with the county historical society." Sam came back to the table after wrapping up his phone call to tell you what he learned. "Not only did Leticia Gore butcher the four boys, one of them was her own son. According to the police at the time, she scalped the poor kid."

"Oh, that's it. I'm gonna deep-fry this bitch extra-crispy." Dean let out a bitter chuckle from hearing the news. Whenever children were involved, it always set something off inside of you, and hearing that a woman had killed her own child out of cold blood made you want to burn her bones fast as possible. “Dude say she was buried?”

“He doesn’t know.” Sam answered.

"Check it out." You heard someone trying to speak in a deep and gravelly voice from behind you, causing you to look over your shoulder at who it was coming from. Two guys, one that you recognized from earlier today as Dean, sat at a small table with his partner, who was attempting at being Sam. "There's the orphanage, here's the Carriage house. And right there, cemetary."

"You think that's where Leticia's planted?" Dean, the imposter, asked his partner. You looked over at the boys with an annoyed look, seeming to realize you had a shadow following on your actual trail. Pushing yourself up to your feet, you casually headed over to the other men, and reached out a hand to take the map from them, only it seemed the fake Dean was fast, letting you only feel the paper before snatching it away. "Hey. Ooh. Hey, hey! Hey, do you mind lady?"

The fake Dean folded the map back up as he gave you a dirty look at trying to steal his piece of evidence from you. "It's real." You said, looking over at the brothers. "A century old, at least."

“And he's right.” Sam said. “There is a cemetery on the grounds.”

"Where'd you get that?" You asked the two men.

"It's called a game, sister." Dean, the player, told you. You raised your brow from his tone of voice, obviously not too amused at the little act he was playing. "It ain't called a 'charity.'"

"All right," Dean stretched out his arm in front him and wiggled his fingers at the man pretending to be him. "Give me the map, chuckles."

"Oh, you're the chuckles...chuckles. Besides," The man failed at an attempt of lashing out another sarcastic jab that only Dean could come up with, but he had other leverage. You quickly bit your bottom lip to keep a laugh from escaping your throat when you watched him lift up his leather jacket, showing off his toy gun that was stuffed in his jeans. "Dean don't listen to nobody."

"Dean, cool it." His friend said, attempting to play his character through.

Dean rolled his eyes from what was unfolding right in front of his very eyes. He copied the other man's actions, but this time, he wasn't afraid to pull out his gun from his jacket, showing it off for a moment before you quickly slapping his palm back so the weapon could be hidden before anyone would notice it. "What, Y/N? They're friggin' annoying."

"So are you, like ninety percent of the time I'm with you and Sam. But you don't see me trying to shoot either one of you." You hissed at him, making the man shove the gun back to where it came from. Dean gave you a glare from forcing him to take the high road. You looked back over at the other men, deciding to try and play peace maker between teams. "Look, guys, we all want to find the bones, right? We just thought it would go faster if we all work together."

Both of the men glanced over at one another and silently tried to figure out what they should do. It took a moment before the one playing Sam looked over at you and nodded his head, agreeing with your plan. "We, uh, we get the Sizzler gift card." He said, wanting to make that clear.

"Fine." Dean grumbled underneath his breath, already he was detesting your plan.

The one playing the oldest Winchester added one more negotiation, "We get to play Sam and Dean."

“Fine with me.” You said, jumping into the conversation again. "As long as I can play Y/N.”

"Is that who you're supposed to be?" The man playing Dean asked. You looked over at him with a confused expression, but you nodded your head, all before asking him what he meant by that. "I mean, you're not really dressed like her. And you're giving me more...Meg vibes. From the way you're dressed to how you've been acting. I mean, this really isn't gonna logically play out. She's a demon trying to kill us. I don't think she would help us—"

"Trust me, I know what that black-eyed bitch is capable of! I've—" You snapped at the men by accident, suddenly finding the thought of being recognized as Meg, the mega bitch who was still roaming around the world, made your skin crawl in annoyance. You find yourself having the same reaction as Dean, but before you could spill any truth, you calmed yourself down by clearing your throat. "I've read the books cover to cover. I just...really don’t like her. I'm playing Y/N. That's final."

"Okay." The one playing Sam said. "If you say so."

You scoffed at what he said and crossed your arms over your chest, watching as the two men began heading for the doorway. Dean followed behind a second later and headed for the Impala to get a few supplies, Sam walked over to you and peered down at you. Looking up, you gave him a glare from what he said next. "I mean, I can kinda see it." He said, his lips stretching into a certain way whenever he was trying to be funny. You narrowed your eyes on him and muttered how much you hated him right now. "Let's go, Shrimp. Before people get the wrong idea."

"I hate you. I really do." You muttered to him. "Sleep with one eye open, Sasquatch."

Sam laughed off your threat as he began walking to the entrance of the hotel, where his brother was waiting ever so impatiently for the two of you. Rolling your eyes, you followed behind, managing to catch up with everyone else. The brothers packed up the supplies you would need for a salt and burn before catching up with the other two men that were playing them. You walked in the middle between both groups, wanting nothing more than for this entire night to be over with. But if you were having a rough night, Dean was slowly losing his nerve, and it wasn't helping when he was forced to agree to play a whole other role beside himself. You looked over your shoulder to the other man when he was trailing behind with a duffel bag full of salt and loaded shotguns, trying his hardest not to use of the weapons on him.

"Hey, Rufus, Bobby," The fake Dean called out, "Would you hurry it up?"

Dean wanted to lash out at the man, but he composed himself long enough to let the situation roll off his back. The men in front of you continued on with the game they were playing. "So, where were we?" The one playing Sam asked as he walked through the dark hotel grounds.

"Uh, Dr. Ellicott had just zapped your brain." His friend said, setting the scene.

And here you thought things between the two men couldn't have gotten any weirder, you realized they were acting out scenes from the book. You rolled your eyes and looked up at the night sky for a second to calm yourself down the cringing feeling that was starting to settle in the atmosphere. You were trying so hard to be understanding, but they were making it harder with each passing second. "Why are we even here, Dean?" The one playing Sam asked his friend. "Do you just follow in Dad's footsteps like a good, little soldier? Are you that desperate for approval?"

"This isn't you talking, Sam." The fake Dean said.

"See, that's the difference between you and me. I got a mind of my own. I'm not pathetic." The one playing Sam said. You found yourself thinking the last line he said was slowly starting to come true. But you kept your opinion to yourself.

"So, what are you gonna do, Sam?" The fake Dean questioned him. "You gonna kill me?"

"Man, I am so sick of you telling me what to do!"

"Oh, you know what? That—That's it. That is it." Dean officially hit his breaking point, having enough with the flashbacks that were starting to come back. And seeing these two chuckleheads acting it out was the cherry on top of a disastrous night. The man pretending to be him asked him what was wrong, Dean rolled his eyes when he was addressed as Bobby Singer. The man he was supposed to be playing in this bogus game. "I'm not Bobby, okay? You're not Sam. You're not Dean! What is wrong with you? Why in the hell would you choose to be these guys?"

"Because we're fans, like you." The fake Sam said.

"No. I am not a fan, okay? Not fans." Dean said, wanting to make the point crystal clear. "In fact, I think the 'Dean, Sam and Y/N' storyline sucks! It is not fun. It's not entertaining. It's a river of crap that would send most people howling to the nuthouse! So, you listen to me. Their pain is not for your amusement. I mean, do you think that they enjoy being treated like—like circus freaks?"

"Uh, I don't think they care," The man playing Dean said. "Because they're fictional characters."

"Oh, they care. Believe me." Dean hissed at the two men. "They care a lot."

And with that said, Dean pushed himself between the two men and began walking off again, needing to get the anger out before he mentioned something he would regret. You slowly looked over at the men, who were staring at you and Sam with the most complexed expression, wondering what the hell had just unfolded. "He, uh..." You tried your hardest to explain Dean's outburst, but you were falling short of a reasonable one. "He takes the story really seriously." You gave both of the men a smile before you were walking past them, trying to figure out your way to the cemetery, wanting nothing more than for this hunt to be over with.

33 notes · View notes

acciidental · 8 years ago

Note

ALL of the numbers. All of them.

1: NameSam2: Age213: 3 FearsLetting life pass me by/missing out, inadequacy, my own temporariness 4: 3 things I loveMy friends, my cat, music5: 4 turns onWhy are these questions always in here.. hard pass6: 4 turns offTurns off... again, hard pass7: My best friendI have many - but Phoebe is my ride or die yo (doesn’t mean I don’t love the rest of y’all dearly)8: Sexual orientationPansexual9: My best first dateUh...I haven’t been on many like “official” dates but seeing The Desolation of Smaug was a pretty great night overall, even though I almost died10: How tall am I5′7′’11: What do I missMy cat 12: What time were I bornIn a time when grammar wasn’t this butchered - I actually don’t know the time, but for some reason 7:21 is coming to mind but I don’t know day or night... 13: Favorite colorGrey14: Do I have a crushSuch a bullshit question - no15: Favorite quote“If you’re going through hell, keep going”16: Favorite placeVenice17: Favorite foodPotatoes18: Do I use sarcasmAbsolutely not (fuckin’ duh)19: What am I listening to right nowStay by Zedd20: First thing I notice in new personUsually their shoes tbh 21: Shoe size8 in women’s sizes 7 in men’s22: Eye coloramber (brown)23: Hair colorbrown24: Favorite style of clothingFuckboy aesthetic 25: Ever done a prank call?Dumb ones, yes27: Meaning behind my URLAccidents happen - the best things in life happen to us accidentally28: Favorite movieKingsman29: Favorite songSend Me On My Way by Rusted Root30: Favorite bandTwenty One Pilots31: How I feel right nowTired32: Someone I loveThis is super general - I love a lot of people. Love you Amelia, even if I’m almost 100% certain you’re the bastard that sent me this “ALL THE THINGS” ask33: My current relationship statusSingling no mingling34: My relationship with my parentsShaky35: Favorite holidayHalloween 36: Tattoos and piercing i haveCatilige on left ear, double nostril, and lipI have “Don’t go where I can’t follow”, “Ad astra”, “I am”, “I’m taking over my body”, a serotonin molecule, a ; with a - through it, the antipossession seal from Supernatural, a halfsleeve of trees, and a piece on my thigh of my own design based on Migraine by Twenty One Pilots (it’s complicated to explain in writing)37: Tattoos and piercing i wantToo fucking many - I want my industrial done really bad though, and I’d love to get my ears re-pierced so I can stretch them again38: The reason I joined TumblrI don’t actually know - probably social pressures39: Do I and my last ex hate each other?I fuckin’ hope not, she’s my best friend40: Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts?Like every day, I’m very lucky41: Have I ever kissed the last person you texted?I don’t even know the last person I actually texted but I’m pretty sure it was Blake and I haven’t kissed Blake - that would be creepy and weird since he’s like twice my age42: When did I last hold hands?In Europe, but for like “HEY LOOK AT THIS LET’S GO THIS WAY” purposes, not like legit hand holding - otherwise the last time I actually held someone’s hand was a while ago43: How long does it take me to get ready in the morning?Depends - if I actually get ready then like half an hour (shower, clothes, food, pack for the day), but if I “get ready” then like 5 minutes (crawl out of bed, hat, pack)44: Have You shaved your legs in the past three days?I did actually45: Where am I right now?In my apartment in Turku, Finland46: If I were drunk & can’t stand, who’s taking care of me?Usually I’m the one taking care of people, even if I’m drunk haha - so I got this47: Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level?I like my music loud at appropriate intervals48: Do I live with my Mom and Dad?No49: Am I excited for anything?Currently I’m excited for volleyball tonight50: Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to?Yep, quite a few actually51: How often do I wear a fake smile?What kind of bullshit questions are these, honestly - this ain’t some pity party52: When was the last time I hugged someone?Leaving Ark at the airport53: What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me?That’s not my problem because it’s not my business54: Is there anyone I trust even though I should not?Probably?55: What is something I disliked about today?Waking up early and almost falling asleep before I needed to leave56: If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?Tyler Joseph57: What do I think about most?I don’t really keep track of the frequency of my thoughts58: What’s my strangest talent?I can do the wave with my tongue59: Do I have any strange phobias?Nope60: Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?I prefer to be behind it61: What was the last lie I told?I don’t fuckin’ remember - everything kinda blurs together62: Do I prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?Webcams are easy cuz you can multitask, phones are a little more annoying in that sense63: Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens?Yes and yes64: Do I believe in magic?Uh.. hard to say really65: Do I believe in luck?Yep66: What’s the weather like right now?Snowy, windy, cold67: What was the last book I’ve read?Milk and Honey68: Do I like the smell of gasoline?Absolutely not69: Do I have any nicknames?A few - 5am, samus, sammi, etc70: What was the worst injury I’ve ever had?I broke my wrist, knocked a vertebrae out of alignment, pinched all the muscles between two vertebrae, and had several impact bruises71: Do I spend money or save it?I tend to save money as much as possible 72: Can I touch my nose with a tongue?Nope73: Is there anything pink in 10 feet from me?I guess my candles are kind pink, otherwise there’s a book cover for a textbook that’s also pretty pink74: Favorite animal?Jellyfish75: What was I doing last night at 12 AM?On the phone, working on a blog post76: What do I think is Satan’s last name is?Something that makes more sense than the phrasing of this question77: What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it?Send Me On My Way by Rusted Root78: How can you win my heart?Also a nonsense question - but I demand respect, kindness, compassion, and empathy79: What would I want to be written on my tombstone?“Catch y’all on the flip side” or some shit80: What is my favorite word?I haven’t put a lot of thought into this - but I like the sound of the word “tube”. I guess if I had to pick a favorite word off-hand it would be something simple and vague with many meanings like “if” or “am”81: My top 5 blogs on tumblrfirel1ght, preposterouspotato, bitchcs, tomorrow-is-forever-all-ours, and whatjustwat (I always fuckin butcher the spelling)82: If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say?“Is it really so fucking hard to be compassionate and empathetic to people from all walks of life?”83: Do I have any relatives in jail?I don’t actually know for sure, I can’t keep track of everyone84: I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power?Control over gravitational fields85: What would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on?Good question - probably anything revolving around the state of my mental health86: What is my current desktop picture?Dean Winchester87: Had sex?Nope88: Bought condoms?I’ve been GIVEN condoms89: Gotten pregnant?Nope90: Failed a class?Never91: Kissed a boy?Technically yes92: Kissed a girl?Yep93: Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain?I don’t actually know, probably94: Had job?Much work, many jobs, wow95: Left the house without my wallet?Not typically, but it’s happened a couple times96: Bullied someone on the internet?Hell no97: Had sex in public?The fuck - no98: Played on a sports team?Several99: Smoked weed?Yep100: Did drugs?Other than weed and alcohol? No101: Smoked cigarettes?For a short time, unfortunately102: Drank alcohol?Yep103: Am I a vegetarian/vegan?Nope104: Been overweight?Yep105: Been underweight?Yep106: Been to a wedding?Yep107: Been on the computer for 5 hours straight?Pff like every day108: Watched TV for 5 hours straight?Guilty as charged109: Been outside my home country?FINALLY110: Gotten my heart broken?What fuckin bullshit 111: Been to a professional sports game?Yes112: Broken a bone?Two apparently (that I know of)113: Cut myself?I mean accidents are bound to happen - I cut my fingernail partly in half the other day114: Been to prom?A couple times115: Been in airplane?Yes116: Fly by helicopter?No, almost though117: What concerts have I been to?Shit here we go... Imagine Dragons, Pat Benetar, June Divided, Framing Hanley, Walk the Moon (x2), The Griswolds (x2), We Came as Romans, Misterwives, Urban Cone, X Ambassadors, All Time Low (x3), Odesza, Purity Ring (x3), Hour 24, Halocene, Bastille (x2), Passion Pit, Brand New, Twenty One Pilots (x2), Halsey, Oh Wonder (x2), Paperwhite, Echosmith, Finnish Ticket, Vinyl Theatre, Chef’Special, Braids, Jai Wolf, Rufus Du Sol (x2), Casian, Knuckle Puck, Real Friends, Bishop Briggs... probably missing some here118: Had a crush on someone of the same sex?Yep119: Learned another language?Working on it120: Wore make up?Scarcely 121: Lost my virginity before I was 18?No122: Had oral sex?No123: Dyed my hair?Frequently124: Voted in a presidential election?Unfortunately 125: Rode in an ambulance?Too many times126: Had a surgery?Wisdom teeth127: Met someone famous?A few128: Stalked someone on a social network?I creep on people all the time129: Peed outside?Yeah -more than I’m proud to admit130: Been fishing?Mhm131: Helped with charity?Yes!132: Been rejected by a crush?Probably133: Broken a mirror?Not that I know of134: What do I want for birthday?Patches and tattoo money

#asks #personal #Anonymous

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huntertales · 8 years ago

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Part One: Getting Better With Age. (The Curious Case of Dean Winchester S05E07)

Useful Links: Last Part | All Episodes Word Count: 5,817. A/N: New episode! I am rather excited for this one, because it's gonna be pretty funny from what you guys have given me. I hope you guys enjoy the first part, more should be out soon!

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Growing old. It was the downside of life most of the population would have to face at point in their life, from their graying hair and wrinkles starting to develop on sagging skin, there was no way out of it. Unless you could devout thousands of dollars for risky surgeries and pumping yourself full of toxic drugs for a chance to look five years younger from your actual age. Or, you could take the much cheaper and riskier route, become a hunter. For those who devoted their lives to tracking down supernatural creatures, they wouldn't get to see their youth slowly drain away due to the years of time catching up with them. The stress of constantly putting your life on the line and unhealthy diet of junk food and diner food prematurely ages a hunter. Mostly the cause of death was by whatever monster they were hunting, and for those lucky few who got out, it would only be a matter of time before the past would catch up to them, destroying the little fantasy of normality.

But there was always special circumstances that people had their lives cut short—sickness, accidents, murder—the list could go on and on. Sometimes there was a strange cause of death that made headlines and had medical professions scratching their heads in confusion at what could have gone wrong, their precious science couldn't explain why a healthy young man in his late twenties dropped dead due to his heart giving out. Not quite uncommon, if he had a history of heart problems—and why he looked like he was in his late eighties when he passed.

You and the boys were down at the morgue where the body was kept, dressed in the usual formal gear, you placed up the fake badges to the woman that told her you were CDC. She stared at them for a few seconds, inspecting with a close eye, you noticed she seemed a bit skeptical when she looked up at Dean. "You expect me to believe you're CDC?" She asked, using a tone of voice that you couldn't tell if she was joking or being dead serious. Sam brushed off the suspicion as he asked what she meant by that as he tucked the badge away into the inside pocket of his jacket. "It's just that you're a day early. First time in history I haven't sat on my ass waiting for you people."

"New administration." Dean said with a friendly smile. You tried your hardest not to roll your eyes when he milked the little lie, pointing a finger at the woman with his badge still wrapped around in his fingers. "A change you can believe in."

"Right." She responded with a fraction of a smile. The doctor lead you over to the freezers and pulled out the victim, you watched as the dead body of the man you had seen in the news article you read online looked nothing like the picture his wife provided. Your eyebrows shot straight up when you noticed an old man was the one lying on the metal slab with his chest stitched up from the unsuccessful autopsy and sagging skin with thin gray hair. It was exactly what you were expecting to see. "Meet Xavier. Date of birth—April 3, 1984. And I know. I ran the DNA twice. That's definitely him."

"Well, he wasn't big on the sunscreen, huh?" Dean remarked.

"So," Sam asked the doctor, "What's your theory?"

"All I know is," The woman glanced down at the chart she'd done on Xavier just a few days ago for personal reference. She was flabbergasted herself at what happened as you were. “decedent's male, twenty-five years old, and he died old age."

The doctor mentioned moving onto other bodies that needed her attention and to ask if you or the boys needed anything else before walking away. You examined the body for a few more seconds before looking over at the brothers, just from a simple nod, all of you realized this seemed to be your kind of case. Shoving Xavier back into the freezer, you closed the door before catching up with the boys, who were already halfway out the door and heading out into the hallway. The doctor mentioned moving onto other bodies that needed her attention and to ask if you or the boys needed anything else before walking away. You examined the body for a few more seconds before looking over at the brothers, just from a simple nod, all of you realized this seemed to be your kind of case. Shoving Xavier back into the freezer, you closed the door before catching up with the boys, who were already halfway out the door and heading out into the hallway.

You followed behind as you pulled out your phone, deciding to call Bobby, who was the one who suggested all of you check out the case as the hunt for the colt remained for the past few weeks.

"You were right about this one." You said to Bobby after giving, or trying, a formal greeting after he answered the phone. He gave a quick hello before asking you how the trip to the morgue went. "It's definitely a job."

"Thought so." He said. "Any other stiffs in town?"

“Just the one body.” You answered. Bobby asked if there was anything else in town that might count as strange. "Couple missing persons, but usual enough for a town this size.”

"Well, check 'em out." Bobby suggested to you.

"Do you think they're connected?" You asked.

"Call it a hunch." He said.

"You got it." You said, reassuring the older hunter. You were about to hang up the phone, but you stopped yourself, knowing it's been awhile since you'd personally spoken to Bobby. And you hadn't seen him since he was discharged from the hospital all those months ago. You and the boys have been so focused on tracking down the Devil, you almost forgot about Bobby and his own new lifestyle he was still getting used to. "And, by the way, how are you doing? You know, just...in general?"

"Oh, you mean my legs." Bobby responded a few moments later, and from the tone of his voice, he didn't seem all that cheery. But he was sure in the spirits of using sarcasm against you. You furrowed your brow from the answer you gotten from the man, and the insult he'd never used against you before. "Well, I'm just weepin' in my Haggen-Daz. Idjit."

You moved the phone away from your ear when you heard the dial tone, making you realize Bobby hung up on you after giving a very rude goodbye. The boys looked over at you to see why you were staring at your still open phone with an angered expression. You glanced upwards to see their lingering gaze, you shut your phone and placed it back into pocket, giving them an update to how the older hunter was doing.

"Bobby's do great. Sure is healthy enough to be dishing out the sarcasm." You said as your lips slowly forced themselves into a smile. Before either one of them could make a comment, you quickly changed the subject to the matters of the case. "Let's move things along, shall we?"

+ + +

There was only about two people missing in town that were reported missing in the last week, the first on the list was a man named Cliff Whitlow. He'd been missing for exactly a week by his wife, and all though there seemed to have been no signs of foul play, you and the boys decided to give her a visit. Mrs. Whitlow was a sweet older woman who gladly ushered you inside after introducing yourselves as the FBI. You sat on the couch next to her as the boys were right across from you in the two loveseats. You inspected the framed photograph of Cliff who, unlike Xavier, was old by the vicious years of time. It was of him at a golf tournament a few months back with a bright smile, you took notice of the tattoo on his right forearm, Military based if you guessed. You leaned over and handed the frame over to Dean so he could take a look at it for himself.

“That’s the most recent.” Mrs. Whitlow said. You gave her a small smile and nodded when you noticed she was nervously wringing her hands together in her lap.

"How long has he been missing?" You asked her.

"Oh, I knew right away when he didn't come home Tuesday night." She said.

"Is there someplace he likes to go after work, maybe?" Dean asked. "A favorite bar?"

Mrs. Whitlow shook her head, laughing quietly at the question. "No. Tuesdays, he always works a bit late, but he always comes straight home."

You had a feeling her husband wasn't working grueling hours at the office when he was just months away from retiring, at least, from the looks of his age. You looked over at the woman and gave her a smile when you asked, "May I use your powder room, ma'am?" Mrs. Whitlow gave you directions, leaving the boys to keep the questioning going, as you followed the way to the bathroom, like the woman thought. Instead, you made a sharp turn, heading for the hallway and peeking around until you found Cliff's office from the looks of it. You examined the room to see if there was anything suspicious as you wandered over to his desk, skimming over the neatly placed belongings as you grabbed a pile of his mail, flipping through it to see that it was mostly bills or junk. You looked at the obvious places where somebody might hide a hex bag, but when you came up blank, you spotted Cliff's suit jacket placed over his computer chair.

You wandered over to the other side of the desk and bent down, searching the outside pockets, only to feel lint and a few useless pennies, but when you checked the inside, you gotten something a bit suspicious. You took out what appeared to be a crumpled receipt, and from the charges, they weren't for a pack of smokes and junk food he was secretly trying to hide from his wife. You scoffed at his excuse working late at the office, someone was trying to work through a midlife crisis, and the Mrs. wasn't helping. A young woman was probably doing the job just right for that old geezer. For the right price, of course.

+ + +

The Golden Palace was a place Dean would most definitely love, that is, if he were still single. Dean knew if that he dared to even

about what Cliff was doing to his poor wife, he wouldn't live to see another day of the unfolding apocalypse. And he had his fun in these kind of sleazy motels. Drop a few hundred bucks and a woman of the buyer’s choice for the hour, and maybe even a little longer if they coughed up more dough. You and the boys worked your own kind of magic to get the room number from the woman who ran the joint. For about two hundred bucks, and reassurance you had no romantic relations with the man, she told you where you would find Cliff and the history of his business to her company. She said that Cliff hadn't been around for a week, which was strange, since he was one of her regular customers that had been coming for the past few years, or since his wife had probably stopped giving what he wanted. Before you departed, she gave you a warning not to make a commotion in her establishment. She had paying customers who liked discreteness, the last thing she needed was one of you disrupting her business for unfaithful spouses and very lonely lovers.

"Well, at least he's consistent." Sam said, walking down the hallway before making a right turn, following behind you. You stopped for a second to look at the room numbers to see which one Cliff was in, you pointed a finger at the very end of the hall and proceeded walking forward to the door. "Same room every Tuesday, hourly rates."

“Hope I got that kind of kick when I’m his age.” Dean said. You couldn't help yourself but smile ever so slightly at the thought an old Dean, with wrinkles and graying hair. You wondered what he might look like if he ever gotten to his sixties.

"Yeah, like either of us will live that long." Sam remarked. You knew that was a given fact for hunters not to live very long like most people, and the rules would be no exception for the three of you. You put your attention to the door that stood just a few feet away from you. A light pink heart with the numbers forty-four were printed in the middle. This was Cliff's room, where he spent his Tuesdays. "So, what do you think's in there?"

Your nose wrinkled at the thought of Cliff’s dead body in the room, reduced to nothing more than a decomposition, or worse, ashes and bones after the hands of time had worked rapidly on him like they had to Xavier. “A wrinkly, gooey corpse?” You thought out loud.

Either way, whatever was lying behind the closed door, you and the boys were going to discover what it was. Sam took the liberty of pulling out his lockpick and unzipped it, looking for the right tools as you and Dean stood guard, looking around at the narrow hallway, waiting for any possible bystanders that might come out of the rooms at the wrong time. Everything remained calm and nothing popped out as out of the ordinary, you continued watching the hall, until you heard a male yelling on the top of his lung, right behind the closed door you stood next to. From the sounds, you honestly thought somebody was in danger, so the boys did what was necessary. Sam used his shoulder to ram into the door, breaking it down with no effort as him and his brother barged inside to see what the commotion was all about. But....it wasn’t what you were expecting.

You managed to catch a glimpse of what was going on behind the Winchesters' tall frames. A man lying in bed with a woman was caught off guard from seeing yourself and two men twice your size standing in front of you. But it seemed he wasn't paying for just one friend, another one popped out from beneath the sheets to see what the commotion was all about, your eyebrows raised at what you accidentally stumbled upon. You gave the women an apologetic smile, hoping they wouldn't get the idea the man inside the bed was your husband as they scurried off into the bathroom for safety.

"Sorry, uh..." Dean tried apologizing for the accidental mishap as he began to slowly back out of the room. "Got the wrong room."

"Close the door!" The man shouted at the three of you in anger.

You were about to do just that, but your eyes drifted over to his right forearm that laid on top of the sheets, he had a tattoo of someone that also liked this room. You inspected it for just a second, only to realize, you understood why it looked so familiar. You heard Sam quietly scoff underneath his breath, seeming to make the same discovery as you did. "Hey. Nice tattoo." Sam said. He began walking over to the dresser, deciding all of you were going to stay for a little while, after all. You crossed your arms over your chest as you stared at the man lying in bed with a casual expression when you had a hunch of what was going on here. "Happen to know anybody named Cliff Whitlow?"

Your lips stretched into a smirk when you inspected his reaction at the accusation, his body tensed up as his jaw tightened. He replied a few moments later, denying any knowledge of this stranger. "Never heard of him."

“Well, that’s weird.” Sam said. He pulled out his driver's license and turned around to look at the man. "Because you're carrying his wallet.”

Beside the matching tattoo and wallet, there was another piece of information that Mrs. Whitlow gave you before you left. You walked over to the bed and took it upon yourself to pull up the sheets, ignoring his attempts at trying to hide whatever it was. Your eyes dropped to his stomach, where you noticed was the darkish red spot, exactly where she told you.

"Huh." You muttered underneath your breath, dropping the sheets back to the bed. You looked up at Cliff as gave him a smile, he quickly looked down at any spot on the bed, knowing he was caught. "Your wife told us about your birthmark there. And may I say, really sweet woman. Been worried sick about you." You stressed the importance of his wife's worries as you stepped back. Taking a moment to see what had become of him, you knew he looked nothing like his photograph Mrs. Whitlow showed you. The man lying in bed was young and fit, to be honest, he was quite handsome. "Well, you look great, Cliff. Did you get some work done for the Mrs?"

Cliff let out a heavy sigh, knowing there wasn't much more of this lie he could keep pushing on forever. You could tell he was guilty at the mentions of his wife you kept pushing on him. He looked over at the woman that were hovering out from the bathroom, wondering what was going on. "Could you give us some privacy?"

In under just a few minutes Cliff was out of bed, dressed in some tacky looking silk robe as the women escorted themselves out the bathroom and to the open door. Only before they left, each of them put out their palms, demanding a full payment, despite only being here for half the session. Cliff forked out all of the cash from his wallet and gave it to them, quickly whispering goodbye as the women headed down the hall, and out of sight when he closed the door. Cliff quickly looked over at you and the boys, trying to put out another situation before it could get worse.

"Please don't tell my wife. I'm begging you. As far as she knows, I'm dead." He said, pleading with all of you in a rushed state. You narrowed your eyes on him, making the man assume you were falling for his little act. “For the love of God, let’s keep it that way.”

“How can you possibly be Cliff Whitlow?” Dean asked, managing to get a question in between the young man’s pleads to keep his infidelity hush.

"I can't tell you." Cliff said, giving you the wrong answer.

"Well," You gave the man a compromise, "Either you tell us or we tell your heartbroken, worried wife—"

"Okay! Okay!" Cliff said. You could tell from playing hard ball he would tell you just about anything you wanted to know. You crossed your arms over your chest, waiting for him to answer the question. "It was a game."

"Like...Xbox?"

"What's Xbox? No. Poker—high stakes. Instead of cash, you play for years.” Cliff said, trying to explain how he got like this. You and the boys stared at him with a funny expression, wondering what he was trying to get at. "Look, I know it sounds crazy. Guy comes up to me at a bar, invites me to play. Gives me twenty-five of these weirdo poker chips, right? Chants some mumbo humbo over them, says now they're twenty-five years. I'm laughing...but then I come out up. And look at me."

"What was he chanting?" Sam asked, Cliff laughed at his question.

“How should I know? All I know is, my bad hip's good, I threw away my glasses. One of those ladies was here for free!" Cliff said with a growing smile, seeming a little bit too happy at his new found youth. "Man's some kind of miracle worker."

"What does this miracle worker look like?" You asked, wondering what you could be dealing with.

"Just a guy. Maybe thirty-five, brown hair. Irish accent. His name was Patrick.” Cliff explained to the three of you. Dean wondered where he could find this generous fellow, but it might be hard from the answer you gotten back. "He said he likes to keep moving. Never stays in bar long. And he finds you.” You nodded your head, deciding any sort of information on this miracle worker was better than nothing. The boys headed to the front door, making you follow behind and be the last one to lingering in the doorway. As you were about to step out into the hall, Cliff stopped you for a second from what he said. "Hey, have I seen you before?”

You looked over your shoulder and gave him a confused look from his question. “I don't think so.”

"Maybe in my dreams, but from the looks of it, all of them are coming true. Especially now I get to see such a pretty face in real life.” Cliff said with the type of smile that made you realize what he was doing. You quietly chuckled to yourself at the old geezer’s attempts at flirting with you. He was probably one of those old guys would hit on just about anything in the bar after, trying to recapture what they had back in their younger years and would give anything to feel that way again. But it seemed he gotten exactly what he wished for. And he was testing his new found luck, wondering what he could get away with. You rolled your eyes as he gave you a sly wink, a smile crept across your lips. “Yeah, I still got it.”

"Stay classy, Cliff." You said, knowing he was sleazy as they came. He’d been out of the playing field for well over a few decades, and it seemed he would hit on just about anything that moved. You shut the door and looked straight ahead with the intentions of seeing the boys farther down the hall than you, but there Dean stood, not even half a foot from where you were. From the look on his face, he wasn't all that happy on the pass Cliff tried to pull over on you. You couldn't help yourself but smile at how he was acting as you placed your hand on his chest, keeping him at bay. You shut the door and pushed him lightly, making him take a step back. "Relax. It was just a stupid pass.”

"Guy might not a grandpa, but I could take him.” It was the Dean that rarely came out to show, the jealous and overbearing man, showing his teeth for anyone that would wanna go against him. You couldn't take him seriously when he got like this.

"Oh, I know." You said, agreeing with him. You slowly ran a hand down his chest as your lips stretched farther into a smile, feeling his muscles underneath his shirt that he developed over the years from the years of hunting, despite his terrible eating habits. "Let's go, Killer.”

Dean was tempted for a few more moments to see if he wanted to go against some guy that was just turned into his thirties again. Cliff was a scumbag who deserved someone to give his younger face a black eye. He was cheating on his wife and getting himself caught up in dark magic from the sounds of it. Dean stared at the door, but when he realized you were already down the hall with cell phone in hand to call Bobby, he decided his effort would be better placed somewhere else. You looked over your shoulder just in time to see that Dean caught up with you and Sam, exactly at the same time you heard Bobby pick up the phone again.

You told Bobby what you had learned from Cliff, from the high risk poker game that played for the years of someone and seeing the man looking at least a few decades younger. The boys followed behind as you wandered back outside and heading down the sidewalk. “It sounds crazy, right?” You asked the older hunter.

“No. There's lore on it. Goes back centuries. Traveling card player pops into town. You beat him, you get your best years back. 'Course, most folks lose.” Bobby explained to you. You made a remark about how it made sense for why Xavier, a healthy young man, was lying in the morgue and Cliff was having the time of his life. “Supposedly, this player's a hell of a card shark. Got a lot of years in the bank. You find the bar he's working in yet?”

“There's a lot of them in town.” You said. “One of us is gonna have to make a list before splitting up.”

“Well, why are you still talking to me?”

You tighten your grip on the phone when Bobby hung up on you again without saying goodbye, or, not dropping the sarcasm undertone. “He's such a little…” While you were tempted into taking the low road and call him a name you would regret, you inhaled a deep breath to try and calm down. Again, you reminded yourself that Bobby was under a lot of stress, and old men had the tendency of being just a tad bit grumpy.

+ + +

After spending the rest of the afternoon searching every single bar that you could find on the other side of town, you and Sam decided to call it quits and pick up dinner after Dean told you it was your job, and make sure to ask for extra bacon. Your legs hurt from walking what felt like ten miles, but in reality, you probably only walked about three and a half. The smell of grease and french fries tempted you into indulging just grabbing one from the pile that was meant for Dean. He wouldn't miss a single one, and they'd be gone in the matter of minutes.

"I can't believe we didn't find anything. Three hours of walking around and all we got is squat." You complained, only managing to get a few words out at a time while you chewed on the hot fry. “Not to mention how out of shape I feel. I mean, you need me to do research for five hours straight? No problem. Walk around town? It's torture. I mean, I used to go running every morning before I started hunting. Now I’m lucky if I eat something that's not gonna clog my arteries.”

Sam laughed at what you were saying, while you reached for another fry. “Yeah, this lifestyle isn't all that great when it comes to a balance diet. But I try.” He said. You quietly scoffed, knowing the man was always making conscious decisions of what the right thing to eat was. "But, hey. If you were serious about getting back into running, and if you wanted a partner...I'd be down."

"Really? Well, not you just gotta drag my ass out of bed and I think we've got ourselves a deal." You said as you reached inside your pockets to fetch out the keys to the motel room. You shoved the key inside the lock and opened up the door, stepping inside first as Sam followed behind. You noticed Dean was back from the sight of his jacket and boots lying next to his bed. From the steam coming out from the cracked bathroom door, it seemed the man was just getting out of the shower. "Hey, Dean? You find anything?"

"Uh, you might say."

The man who stepped out of the bathroom wasn't who you were expecting, and without a second of hesitance, you pulled out the loaded gun from the back of your jeans and pointed it at the man. Sam followed suit, he'd put down the food, in exchange for the gun of his own as he directed to the old man before asking, "Who the hell are you?"

The old man standing in front of you was wearing Dean's favorite navy blue robe, but he looked nothing like the older Winchester. He stared at the two of you with a confused expression, wondering why you were acting like he was an intruder in his own room. "Dude, relax. It's me."

You squinted your eyes slightly, wondering if what you were seeing was real. Dean was...he was older, much older. His hair was gray and his skin was wrinkled, and from the looks of it, he shrank a few inches, too. You lowered your gun and spoke him name in a quiet tone, almost in disbelief, but you were proven to know he was the real Winchester when he mumbled a hello. "Oh my God. What the hell happened to you?"

"I, you know..." Dean hesitantly explained as he walked across the room, heading for his dinner that was still on the table. You followed his every move, not being able to look away from seeing him this way, at least, in his sixties. "Found the game."

"You f—I thought you were good at poker." Sam said, still in shock himself at what he was seeing.

“I am. Shut up.” Dean grumbled, obviously having enough with the bewildered stares from you and his brother like he was a freakshow attraction. He grabbed the burger from the paper tray and unfolded it. "So, you were just gonna shoot some old guy? Is that it?"

"We didn't know what you were. I mean," You gestured to his new physique with your free arm, "H-have you seen you? You look like—"

“The old chick in ‘Titanic.’ I know.” Dean said. You found yourself accidentally smiling at the comparison he drew on his own, and from what you remembered from the movie, the both of them were quite similar looking. "Shut up. It's not funny, Y/N."

"I was gonna say 'Emperor Palpatine.'" Sam said, giving his own thoughts.

You looked away, trying your hardest not to laugh at that comparison, which would only piss Dean off even more. Before anyone could keep this conversation going, your attention was turned to the motel room door when the handle began shaking around before someone swung it right open. Out of anyone you expected to see on this hunt, Bobby was here, you watched with a rather surprised expression as he rolled himself into the room and slammed the door shut. From the last time you had saw him he was still getting used to life in the wheelchair, but now, he seemed to have gotten it down. It's not like he had much of a choice.

"I see you met John McCain there." Bobby said, nodding his head to the much older looking Dean, who still was munching away on his burger.

You nodded your head slowly, "Either one of you want to tell us what happened?"

"Bobby's an idiot." Dean said to you. "That's what happened."

"Hey," Bobby defended himself. "Nobody asked you to play."

Dean scoffed, “Right. I should have just let you die.”

"And for damn sure, nobody asked you to lose!" Bobby yelled at the man.

You found yourself smiling at the sight of a much older Dean arguing with Bobby, it brought up a comparison that made even Sam crack a smirk. "It's like 'Grumpy Old Men.'"

“Shut up, Y/N!”

You looked at the two men with a frown, not expecting for them to lash out at you at the same exact time. Dean gave you a look before putting his attention back on Bobby, still not done with this argument. "What were you thinking? He's a witch. He's been playing poker since guys wore tights."

Bobby looked away from him and stared at a spot on the carpet, "You just don't get it."

"Yeah, I get it, Bobby. You saw a chance to turn the hands of the clock back and get out of that damn chair. Pretty tempting. I can imagine." Dean said, shaking his head at the man's foolish decisions. Bobby defended himself by saying that the man knew nothing what he was going through. And Dean agreed with him. "You got me. I never been paralyzed. But I'll tell you something--I've been to Hell, and there's an archangel there wanting me to drop the soap. I mean, look at me! My junk's rustier than yours! You hear me bellyaching? Huh?"

Actually, you did hear something that sounded a bit off strange. Dean seemed to have found his decision for eating the cheeseburger a wrong choice of his own when he felt a burning sensation settle into his stomach. He fell down to the seat, straining to say that he was having a heart attack, but he was showing all the wrong symptoms. Bobby rolled his eyes from the man's dramatic behavior. "No, you're not. You have acid reflex. Guys your age can't digest certain foods. You're gonna need to put down that cheeseburger.” Bobby warned. You watched as Dean, unwillingly, put down his half eaten dinner, a little bit disappointed at the circumstances he was going to have to live with, for however long until you fixed this problem. "So, you want to keep emoting or you want to talk about solving this little issue of yours? It's got to be the chips."

"I slid 'em across, Patrick did his little witchy number, and you prettied up in a hurry." Dean said, giving you and Sam a bit of a clue to what happened in the game.

"I mean, what are you all thinking?" Sam asked with curiosity. You took a seat next to Dean at the table as Sam stole the next one across from Bobby. "Some kind of magic chips or something?"

"Definitely." Bobby said.

"You remember what he chanted?" Dean asked the older hunter.

"Yep," Bobby nodded his head. "every word."

"All right, let's find out where he stashes his chips." Sam said.

"And steal me fifty. Benjamin Button me back to burger shape." Dean agreed with the plan, accidentally burping as the acid reflux began to slowly wear off. "What do you think?"

You glanced over to the much older version of the Winchester, you tried your hardest not to be a little bit weirded out. But it wasn't helping when you realized he was sitting in the chair, in nothing more than just a robe. "I think you should put some clothes on." You suggested to him. “Just so I don’t have an image that will be permanently burned in my brain of your wrinkly body."

26 notes · View notes