#I see Dean touching it gentle like and remembering he wasn’t fast enough to save him

[winchester-co]

Sam hating the scar because it means he lost his brother. Dean hating the scar because it means he lost his brother.

[myaimistrue]

to hell and back (read on ao3 here)

“Tell me the story,” Dean says quietly. It’s only under cover of darkness, with his head pillowed on Cas’s chest and their legs tangled together, safe and warm in their bed, that he’ll ever ask for this. Cas understands—it’s a story best told somewhere the demons of their past can’t reach them.

“We descended within minutes of you being taken,” Cas begins. He could tell this story by rote, if only because Dean has asked to hear it so often. But Dean always hangs onto his every word in these moments, so Cas chooses each of them carefully. “We all knew the fight would be tough, and it was expected that many of us wouldn’t return. I doubted I would survive, but it didn’t bother me. I believed whole-heartedly in the mission; the Righteous Man had to be saved.” Cas smiles when he says that, thinking that, in many ways, his mission has never changed. 

“When we arrived, it was madness. My garrison had countless battle plans prepared, but when faced with the realities of the Pit, they fell apart completely. So the new plan was to split up, and to get you in any way we could, at any cost.” Cas closes his eyes for a moment, remembers the flashing lights and the screaming, remembers the wild urgency of the mission and the way it matched every beat of the war drums. “My brothers and sisters couldn’t see you. No one could. But I could feel you.”

Cas thinks this is both Dean’s favorite and least favorite part, so he takes extra care to get it right. “I don’t know why I felt you when no one else could. Maybe I just happened to look in the right place. Maybe I got lucky. Whatever it was, I followed that feeling for years, your soul lighting the way as I went. I killed thousands of demons in the process; my blade saw more use than it had in millenia. And when you broke, I…” Cas doesn’t know that there are words for the regret he’d felt in that moment, the shame in not reaching Dean fast enough to stop it. He doesn’t think Dean would want to hear it, anyway, so he pushes forward. “The Host wanted to pull my garrison out and send another one in to get you later, since the seal had already broken. They felt like a delay wouldn’t matter. But like I said, I could feel you. So I asked for more time.” Cas feels his lips quirk into a small smile. “Well, maybe I demanded it. At any rate, they agreed to remain a little longer.”

Dean huffs out a little laugh, and fondly says, “Causing trouble all the way back then, huh?”

“Apparently.” Cas presses a kiss to the top of Dean’s head, simply because he can. “So I kept searching—I knew I was closer than I’d ever been, but it was still difficult to find you. And then, it was…” Cas lets the memory wash over him: perfect, golden warmth in the midst of all that desperation, all that agony. And he decides to let himself say more than he normally would when telling this story. Dean should hear it, he thinks. “I don’t know how to describe how it felt to see your soul. How there was nothing for so long, and then, all at once, there was everything. You were everything, all things good and right and beautiful.”

Dean fidgets uncomfortably. “Cas—”

Cas was anticipating this, and doesn’t let him finish. He shifts their positions so that they’re both lying on their sides facing one another; Dean’s eyes dart around, looking anywhere but at the man mere inches away. Cas reaches out to touch his face. “Dean, look at me.”

And though it clearly takes a herculean effort, he does. Cas is suffused with such pride and affection that he can’t help but lean forward and press a kiss to his lips. “My Dean,” Cas whispers when they separate, thumb running up and down his cheek. “My beloved.”

Dean closes his eyes, like it hurts to hear. Cas knows that for Dean, sometimes it does. So he keeps his hand gentle on Dean’s face, and he continues the story.

“I pulled you close to me. Almost like this.” Cas smiles, watches Dean’s lips twitch too. “I wrapped my wings around you so that you’d be safe as we escaped. Nothing could touch you. And when we made it out, I cried out to the Host: Dean Winchester is saved. It was a victory for Heaven, of course, but I was… I was grateful that you wouldn’t be there anymore. A soul like yours never belonged in Hell.”

Dean opens his eyes, shining with unshed tears. Cas runs his thumb along his cheek once, twice, before Dean says, “Did you know then?”

“What? That I loved you?”

“Yeah.”

Cas thinks about it for a moment. “I didn’t know. I don’t think I knew for a long time, and it was even longer before I understood all of its depth. But now, looking back,” Cas says, “I loved you the moment I saw your soul.”

Dean gives a watery laugh. “Love at first sight, huh?”

“Maybe for me,” Cas lets go of Dean’s face, moving his hand to rest gently on his hip. “I seem to recall you stabbing me.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Dean grins. “And I shot you.”

“You did,” Cas says, amused.

“To be fair, you were freaking me the fuck out. You walked in that barn and put on a damn light show for me and Bobby.” Dean’s eyes sparkle playfully, and Cas is in love. He’s so in love. “Except that was just for me, wasn’t it?”

Cas huffs, but he’s still unable to cover up his complete and total adoration. It’s okay, he thinks—Dean’s not doing a very good job of it, either. “I was still adjusting to my vessel.”

“You were showing off.” Dean reaches out and threads his fingers through Cas’s hair at the base of his skull. “It’s okay. It worked. I was impressed.”

“Oh, you were?” Cas decides that enough is enough and pulls him closer, pressing lingering kisses along the column of Dean’s throat. “Maybe I should do things like that more often.”

Dean sighs contentedly as Cas sucks a sweet mark below his jaw. “Maybe. It’s fun when you show off.”

They kiss for a few lazy, languid minutes. It’s very late, and as it grows even later, Cas hovers in a space near sleep, so relaxed and peaceful that each kiss feels like it’s part of a dream. Until Dean pulls back and says in a voice that wakes him right up, “Cas?”

“Yes?” Cas searches Dean’s face in the darkness.

“Thank you.” The words are nearly whispered. “Thank you. For saving me, for being here, for loving me. I don’t—” Dean’s breath catches, and he drops his head on Cas’s shoulder. His next words are muffled and warm against Cas’s skin. “Just… thank you.”

Cas gathers him close, and not for the first time, marvels at the precious thing that exists between the two of them. “You’re welcome, Dean.”

Dean doesn’t say anything else, but he holds Cas a little tighter. It’s alright—Cas understands.

[apatheticanvas91305]

Even When You Hide

Happy @starrynightdeancas​ celebration day to @firefly124​! I got really busy over the last couple of weeks, so its not as good as I wanted it to be for you, but I hope you like it anyways. (also I had to abandon my sketches and normal art style today due to technical difficulties, so the art is a bit rubbish, sorry, if i get round to finishing the other one in my normal style when i get home to my computers, I will send it your way) BUT ANYWAYS I hope you love it (the fic not the art, hides) and I think Sophie is the dopest for putting this whole thing together.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Castiel

Tropes: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss

Based: Somewhere after 10.03, when Crowley give Cas grace and Dean is cured of Demon-ness, and 10.18, when Cas gets his grace back. I did not mention the Mark of Cain though. 

Song: I See You - Missio

Word count: 2.2K

I see you when you're down And depressed, just a mess I see you when you cry When you're shy When you want to die I see you when you smile It takes a while At least you're here I see you

It had been 25 minutes since Dean had sent Cas to pick out the paint for his room. He put down all the sheets and lined the sockets and skirting boards with tape and was now sitting at the foot of the bed, tapping his foot to a silent beat.

Dean hadn’t known what to get the angel from the store so there were currently 12 pots of paint, all different colours, sitting on shelves in the garage. He chewed on the inside of his cheek absentmindedly, picturing the scrunch of Cas’ eyebrows and the tilt of Cas’ head as he scowled at the cans.

‘Dean. What does it matter if the room is winter blue or baby blue?’ Dean could almost hear him ask it - the gravel of Cas’ voice rumbled in the back of his mind. Dean shook his head, smiling, and headed to see what the hold-up was.

What he found was a mess.

“Fuck. Shit!” Pots of paint were scattered across the room. Most were broken open, stripes of paint led away from a large metal cabinet that had toppled over onto the Impala and cast the tins in all directions.

“Cas!”

Dean ran forward, holding his breath. The cabinet had smashed right through Baby’s windshield, fracture lines spanned what was left leaving chunks of glass suspended in the laminated frame. The bonnet had been completely crushed, practically folded in half, and the corners had torn into the paintwork. Dean would be seething except he couldn’t breathe. He threw his weight behind his shoulder, forcing it under the shelves and straining until black dots danced in his vision.

“Cas!” Dean collapsed, his efforts futile. “Cas! Where the hell are you?!”

And then he heard it – the quick and broken, but quiet sobs of an angel. Dean whirled around o fast his neck cracked and then he crawled, actually crawled on his hands and knees, towards the sound.

Behind the impala, Cas was perched on the balls of his feet with his trench coat pooling around him. Dean had never seen him cry before, not like this. There was a streak of paint that ran from just under his left eye to the corner of his mouth. Where his tear tracks converged with it, the drops turned blue and fell to the ground like grace. Dean watched, transfixed for a moment, before scrambling closer.

“Cas.” Dean’s voice louder than he meant it, startled Cas out of his fugue state. His hands, which had been moving, stilled instantly as he looked back at Dean with wide shiny eyes.

“I don’t want to go, Dean.” The cracks in Cas’ voice tugged at Dean’s soul. He didn’t understand.

Dean shook his head. “What?”

Cas’s eyes only grew larger as the hunter reached out, “Dean, please don’t make me go.” His arm hung in the air, terrified of doing the wrong thing. He knew Cas couldn’t fly anymore but it had never stopped feeling as though their conversations were timed, except Dean couldn’t see the numbers on the clock. He was always waiting for Cas to vanish. “I want to stay.”

Bile rose in the back of Dean’s throat and his hand dropped like dead weight between them as he realised what Cas was saying, what he was thinking. He thought back to months before. ‘You can’t stay.’ He’d said, the same bile rising in his throat as now. He looked at Cas in his human clothes, that goddamn hoodie., and watched as Cas’ heart broke. Watched as the hurt played openly on his features, defences down. And then, he’d looked away. Dean remembers looking anywhere but into his best friend’s eyes, knowing that if he did his resolve would surely crumble. Now, all he wanted was for Cas to look at him, but the angel had gone from a deer in the headlights to refusing to lift his head higher than his shoulders.

“I can fix it, I promise.” Cas’s hands started moving again. His fingers shook as he tried to slot several pieces of broken glass back together. Small cuts littered his palms, bleeding freely as Cas worked.

“Cas. Cas, why-” Dean swallowed around the lump of panic still tuck in his throat, “Why aren’t you healing? Is it the grace? Is it failing?” His hands had found there way between them again. They hovered uselessly over Cas’ own. Cas was shaking his head, but Dean wasn’t sure if it was in answer to his question.

“Cas?” Dean didn’t know what to do, until he did. Taking a shaky breath, he allowed his panic to consume him for one second more before he tabled it.

“Cas,” His voice was gentle but solid, “Cas, stop it. Please,” - Dean stilled Cas’ hands with his own. He turned them palm up and, careful not to catch any of the cuts, unfurled the angel’s trembling fingers with is thumb – “Just stop.”

Cas was still refusing to meet his eyes, but he’d stopped shaking his head. He stared down at the pieces of glass and Dean followed his gaze. He recognised them as the broken remains of a small glass statue of an angel. Sammy had presented the thing to a few years ago after he’d nabbed it from some rogue crossroad demon’s second-hand shop to bully Dean with. ‘A guardian angel to save me from your moping when Cas is away,’ Sam had said, and Dean had shoved it deep down inside Baby’s trunk. That was until they moved into the bunker and Dean had felt some strange compulsion to place the glass angel atop the recently toppled shelves. Cas had been there, tilting his head at him. ‘Present from Sam,’ He’d practically growled before running away.

“Hey,” One of Dean’s hands left Cas’ in favour of poking him gently in the cheek. Cas jerked backwards slightly, finally meeting Dean’s eyes. He was still crying but less so. Dean nodded, “I need you to listen to me. You. Are. Not. Going. Anywhere. Ever. Again.” He waved his free hand at the mess around him. “All this, none of it matters,” Dean moved his other thumb in circles, steeling himself. This moment is what all his years watching chick flicks in secrecy had been preparing him for. “You, Cas, are what matters. To me.”

Dean held his breath for one, two, three seconds. Cas hiccoughed, blinking one, two, three times as the last of his tears fell from his cheeks.

“Why aren’t you healing?” Dean whispered into the space between them, a little afraid of anything louder.

“I didn’t want to waste m…” Cas looked lost, “It.” Dean waited.

“When Metatron took my grace from me, he left me human. Except I’m not human. Jimmy though, Jimmy was human, fragile. Without my powers, I’m,” Cas struggled with his words, he looked away. “I’m a baby in a trench coat.” Fuck. “I am nothing. And I can’t go back to that. I can’t keep steeling my kin’s grace from them, reducing them as I have been reduced. I can’t.” He dropped his head to his chest once more. “But I also don’t want to die.

“Castiel.” Dean swerved back into Cas’ eyeline as he spoke, “You are not nothing,” Cas stared at him, not believing.

“You are not human. You’re not Jimmy. But you’re not your grace either.” Dean was going to make him understand how wrong he’d been sitting in Eve’s diner. “You’re not your vessel and you’re not your powers. When I look at you-” The hunter swallowed, “When I look at you, I just see… you. I see you, Cas.”

He looked down at their hands, feeling dizzy. He couldn’t believe how mushy he was being or how much he didn’t mind. He felt like Colin Firth. “As for the rest of it, we’ll figure it out. We always do. The grace situation… Well,” Dean smiled, small. “We’ll make it up as we go.” Dean lifted Cas’s hands to his lips and pressed a kiss into a single cut. After a moment, grace began to shine beneath the skin and the wounds pulled themselves closed.  Beaming now, he leant back and ran his thumb over the soft new skin, turning their hands so their finger interlocked.

“Dean, I-”

“I made a mistake,” Dean interrupted, “I have made so many mistakes. But, kicking you out like has to be one of the worst. No explanation, no assistance, no nothing. It’s the wrongest I’ve ever been in my life. Gadreel gave me an ultimatum but that’s not an excuse. Doesn’t even come close to justifying what I did. I should’ve told you what was going on. Maybe if I had tried, for even a second, to communicate, we could have avoided a lot of pain. I should’ve – I should’ve done a lot. But I didn’t, and that wasn’t good enough.’

“Dean, it’s okay.”

“No, no it’s not.” Dean broke eye contact then.

“Okay, well” Cas squeezed his hands, “I forgive you then. How’s that?”

Dean huffed out half a laugh. His next words caught in throat as he looked back at Cas. He was so close to him. Dean supposed he always was. Dean’s eyes caught on Cas’ mouth where he had worried at his bottom lip. It was red and sore and wasn’t healing. Before Dean knew what he was doing, he was tipping forward, eye slipping shut. When they met in the middle, he barely felt it. He touched his lips to Cas’ like he had to his hands, his heart pounding against the inside of his ribcage. Dean didn’t realise he hadn’t been breathing until Cas’s lips moved against his own and he gasped for air. He leant against Cas’s forehead breathing far too heavily for such a chaste moment. They sat there just breathing in each other’s air for one, two, three seconds. Then Dean surged forwards, pushing of his feet so he was kneeling up over Cas. He dropped the angel’s hands in favour of holding his head in his own, pressing desperate kiss after desperate kiss to Cas’s mouth. Cas leant backwards under him as they kissed, moulding to fit the curve of his body. His dropped hands had twisted their way into Dean’s flannel, pulling him closer.

As Dean’s lungs screamed for breath, he pulled slowly away. Cas’ head dropped to rest against his sternum and Dean allowed himself to bury his face in his hair. His hands had settled at the base of Cas’ neck and began tracing nonsensical patterns into the skin there.

“C��mon,” He leant back and pulled Cas with him. Leading him by hand past the impala and a few scattered paint cans. He stopped by one - one of the only ones not broken open - and leant down to pick it up. ‘Dusty Cyan’. Perfect. He tucked it under his arm, and flashed Cas a smile.

I'm alone with you You're alone with me What a mess you've made of everything

I'm alone with you You're alone with me And I'm hoping that you will see yourself Like I see you

The next day found them huddled close together leaning over Baby as Dean taught Castiel how to hammer dents out metal without causing more damage and replace a windshield.

“D’you want to know something?” Dean cracked open his beer. Cas hummed from where he was bent over working a dent out of the open bonnet. He was wearing one of Dean’s ratty old Bon Jovi shirts, damp with sweat and motor oil and chewing on his lip distractedly – and distractingly. “Sammy got me that angel to tease me about you.”

Cas looked up then, “About me?”

“Yeah.” The hunter coughed, wondering what had possessed him to open his mouth and start yet another chick flick. Maybe he should be worried about how much of a sap he was becoming. It was Cas’ fault, obviously. “Cuz I always complain when you’re gone.”

Cas turned around and leant back on Baby, his shoulder brushed Dean’s. “You may want to begin coming up with some alternate topics of conversation.”

Dean laughed, “You think so?”

“I have been reliably informed that I’m not going anywhere.” Cas looked at him. “Ever. Again.”

Dean shoved his shoulder, smiling wide when Cas shoved back pressing him back into the Impala’s frame and leaning into his space.

“It’s why I put it up there in the first place instead of shoving in the back of some cupboard.” He poked Cas in the ribs. “Because it reminded me of you.”

“Me.” Cas echoed.

“You,” Dean smirked, “Dumbass.”

Cas growled and silenced him with a kiss for the ages. Dean let himself be taken over by the angel, surrendering the kiss to him and just basking in the feeling of Cas pressed up against him. He didn’t need some glass statue, he already had his guardian angel exactly where he wanted him, and he had proved to be far from fragile.

I see you in the dark At the dawn of something new I see you

[mirthful-sonnet]

Rise Above the Ashes  | Chapter 3

Summary: Jean and Mikasa find a remedy against their nightmares, Armin has an announcement, and despite the political tensions in Paradis the peace negotiations go forward. 

Notes:  Thanks once again to @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie for beta reading this <3

Warning: None

Ao3

Time was a blur that now consisted of nothing but restlessness and constant visits to the hospital.

That didn’t matter to Mikasa.

A restful sleep was something alien to her. She might as well spend her time beside Jean, trying to make up for yet another failing on her part.

It had all happened too fast, but she knew that the man could have reached her if Jean had not stepped in first. Her thoughts were too muddled, with the quietness of the hospital making the violent scene and Jean’s drug-induced confession echo inside her head.      

I think I even loved you. Since we were trainees.

She was aware that he had a crush on her back then, something she had easily ignored. Yet knowing the depth of it and that he possibly still felt the same brought plenty of surprise and confusion.

Did he still feel the same way for her? No, that was impossible, and she could not bring herself to acknowledge it. Even the thought of doing it terrified her. He certainly showed no signs of remembering his words once he woke up again, and she didn’t expect him to. Not when he was still battling between life and death.

She felt a pang in her chest at the thought of death, at the mere idea of Jean dying. He had proved himself stronger and more stubborn than anyone had expected.

The doctor had described his case as nothing short of a miracle, as one of Jean’s lungs had collapsed and he had caught an infection that led to a critical fever. They had inserted a tube into his chest to help drain the excess blood and air caused by the wounds, and this morning they had finally removed it. While there was still pain, he was alive and that’s what mattered.

During the entire treatment, Mikasa remained by his side.

Jean constantly told her to go home and rest, but she rarely listened, opting to watch over him when Jean’s mother wasn’t around. She took a break from her volunteering at the orphanage and her work passing down messages to the queen. The rest of the group continued their negotiations while she and Mrs. Kirschtein watched over Jean.  

Meeting Jean’s mother had brought her an unexpected sense of inner peace, her warm and caring personality making it easier to confront the guilt and uncertainty that plagued her. It took every ounce of composure to keep her from breaking down and falling on her knees with apologies when she met Mrs. Kirschtein.

The woman had smiled kindly at her, saying that she was happy that Jean had a friend looking after him so thoroughly. The reassurance in her hazel eyes was more than enough to make her feel better. It came unbidden, but she couldn’t help but be reminded of her own mother. The light that had been cruelly snuffed out of her life when her age could still be counted with her fingers.

While she felt a strange ache when watching them, she also liked to see Mrs.Kirschtein still fuss around her son, who could only roll his eyes while hiding a smile, clearly glad to have her present.

She immediately admired the lady, who put on a brave face despite the terror that had almost taken her son away from her. Mikasa had unintentionally witnessed her in such a vulnerable state during the early stages of Jean’s recovery that she had felt like an intruder.

It hadn’t been long since Jean’s mother arrived, having immediately taken the first train that was available to come to the capital with nothing but her garments and a broken heart. Mikasa had just returned but stopped when she saw her beside Jean’s unconscious form through the gap of the room’s door, fitting woolen socks over his limp feet as her only son battled for his life.

“Remember that time you fell down while playing with the neighborhood kids? I held you tight and you kept complaining about how you would be able to learn to take care of me if I kept fussing around you as if you were a baby.” She had said as she fit the blankets around his shivering form, a slight tremor in her voice as if she was trying not to cry. “You were always such a sweet child. Now look at you, a grown man but still getting into trouble. It won’t matter how older you get, because mom will always be here to take care of you.” Mikasa strained to look at the woman’s slouched shape, now crying freely. “Because you are still my little boy, my sun, and my sweet child.”

Mikasa realized then that there were tears streaming down her own cheeks as she watched the grieving mother. With one last glance, she had decided to leave them alone.

Now she was back in front of his room, holding a bag full of extra blankets and a packaged meal. At the same time, Mrs. Kirschtein opened the door to exit, startled at seeing Mikasa.

“Mikasa!” She exclaimed. “How lovely to see you! Although I thought you were back at your house resting.”

Mikasa shook her head, not wanting to explain that she barely got any rest as her sleep was filled with nightmares of blood and unforgiving steel.

“I slept for a good enough time,” she lied, “I figured I could bring more stuff for him. It’s the least I can do.”

The woman’s hazel gaze was gentle, reaching out to grasp her free hand. “My dear, there’s nothing more you could possibly do for my son. You have rarely left his side! Please don’t strain yourself so much, now I’ll have to fret over you too.”

Mikasa could only smile, squeezing back her hand. The bittersweet ache came back as she remembered her mother again, and she wondered if Jean had the same kind of memories with his mom when he was a child. Did she hold him when he had nightmares? Did she sing to the scars on his knees when he fell?

“My son still likes to act all haughty sometimes, but he cares so much. And he is worried for you. We both are.” The older woman added, looking genuinely concerned as she took in Mikasa’s weary appearance.

Mikasa knew the circles under her eyes must have given her away. “I know, Mrs. Kirschtein. I’m just…I care for him too. And this is the least I could do for all the trouble he put himself in for me.”

Her voice had come out weak, as she remembered that this wasn’t the first time Jean had saved her. Mrs. Kirschtein looked at her in disapproval. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, sweet girl. My son told me what you did to that horrible man who hurt him, and I couldn’t thank you enough for protecting him. I have only known you for a few weeks, but I have come to think of you as my daughter. That’s why I’m asking you to take it easy and allow yourself to rest and not worry. If not for Jean, then do it for me.”

Something jolted in her suddenly and she surged forward to hug the older woman tightly, with tears gathered in her eyes and a lump in her throat. She was mildly embarrassed, but the woman’s motherly affection had touched a part of her that had been hollow since she was that wide-eyed child living in the mountains. The older woman had stiffened momentarily at Mikasa’s unexpected reaction, but after a moment she hugged her back just as tightly, happy to offer the girl even just a little bit of comfort.          

                                                          ***

Jean’s coughs echoed along the hallway as he stopped to catch his breath.

“I don’t think this was a good idea,” Mikasa said, her hold on Jean’s hand faltering. He was already recovered enough to walk, but he still had to strain sometimes to breathe properly.

“Hah, don’t worry about this,” Jean managed to get out as he got his breath back and continued walking while holding onto Mikasa.  

“If I spent any more time cooped up in that room, I would have jumped out from the window already. Then we would all be having regrets,” he added, his steps somewhat clumsy but still steady.

The hallway was dead silent, with bluish moonbeams filtering through the windows. The only sounds were those of their steps. Jean had wanted to take a walk since he felt suffocated in his room, and Mikasa insisted on walking with him.

“Stop being morbid,” Mikasa chided him.      

Jean snorted; his breath was still strained. “It comes naturally these days.”

Mikasa looked at him, taking in the weariness permeating the smile on his face. A walking contradiction. There was still no sign of him remembering what he had said weeks ago in his delirious state. She suddenly gripped his arm tightly without noticing and he turned to her, a questioning look on his face.

“Are you okay?” He asked her, his concern evident. It seemed like such a Jean thing to worry over her while he was the one who had been on the brink of death.

“Jean, I…” She trailed off, not really knowing what to say, or how to acknowledge his past confession.  

“What is it?” He asked.

Mikasa paused and then just shook her head, afraid that she would say the wrong thing. “It’s nothing, I just don’t want you to joke like that.”

Jean gave her a small smile and they continued walking. It felt odd to be able to walk like this again, even if his steps were awkward. His days had been filled with medications and therapy, visits from his friends, and the usual nightmares that were forgotten once he woke up and saw that Mikasa was still by his side.

The visits brought him great comfort, whether it was Connie bringing him books to read, Armin suddenly opening a chessboard mid-conversation, Reiner reading letters from Falco and Gabi aloud, Pieck talking endlessly about new spots she had discovered in town, or Annie sneaking in donuts (her favorite treat) for him to eat.    

Right now, he was glad to break from the usual routine even if just for a while, and Mikasa remaining by his side made everything better. He only wished she didn’t feel so guilty or even felt the need to trouble herself so much for him.

Jean almost found their current situation amusing. It seemed that he had spent half of his life wanting Mikasa’s attention while she looked elsewhere, something that he could never resent her for. But now they were here together in the most uncertain of circumstances, caught up in the middle of trying to build a paradise out of a blank canvas.

Armin constantly gave him updates on the progress of the treaty and other legislations that had been approved. Historia also sent him notes notifying him about their progress and wishing him a speedy recovery since she couldn’t come in person. As a monarch, it wasn’t possible, and she had to juggle her favors carefully.

Their efforts had not been interrupted despite the attack, which Jean was immensely relieved about. He knew, however, that they could not let their guard down as it was clear that the hatred from their adversaries would not stop there. His wounded body was now the tangible evidence of that hatred. The culprits were awaiting a trial, and Yeagerist officials had sent a half-hearted apology for what happened.

Bastards.

Now there was an upcoming ceremony for the peace treaty to be signed, which would be highlighted by the first ever air show on the island. A demonstration of peace that also displayed the military and technological advancements that were taking place at a rapid speed in the country.

“Are you sure you’re ready to leave?” Mikasa’s voice interrupted him from his thoughts. She had an unreadable expression on her face.

“Of course, I am. I have gone from breaking a dozen bones to turning into a titan. A knife in my lung is nothing to me.”    

Mikasa was quiet for a moment, pondering on his words. “What was it like?”

“Hmm?”

“Turning into a titan. What was that like?” Mikasa asked as they turned in a corner and faced another hallway.  

Jean paused for a moment until he finally spoke. “I’m not sure I remember exactly what happened. At one point it was just me and Connie holding onto each other, wondering if what we did was enough. And then…it was just nothingness. Some part of me was alive and conscious, but the rest…well, it was like I had no control over myself. I wouldn’t wish that feeling on anyone.”

They kept walking slowly, their shapes casting shadows on the blank walls. At least in those moments that had seemed final he had not been alone. After the rumbling, he always had his friends with him, the terror they had faced linking all of them permanently. But Mikasa had to bear the weight of the aftermath by herself.

“I bet I looked handsome as a titan,” he tried to lighten the mood.

“I don’t remember. I just took off without so much as a goodbye.” Mikasa muttered.

Jean stopped in his tracks, tightening his hold on her hand so she would look at him. “Hey now, what is this? Nobody can blame you for how you reacted after doing what you did. I don’t think I would have even had the strength to keep going, but you did anyway.”

“But I could have-” Mikasa started.    

“Stop, you’re here with me now, aren’t you?” He interrupted.  

Mikasa wanted to protest again, but something about Jean’s expression made her stay quiet, and she only nodded. Deep down she knew he had a point. Killing Eren had been like tearing out her own limbs, leaving behind an empty shell of a girl, a kite cut off from its string, left to drift aimlessly. But the guilt she felt over leaving her friends behind to face whatever came their way was still there. Even mourning Eren made her feel terrible, as she struggled to reconcile the boy who had saved her with the one who had caused so much destruction and suffering. In a way, being here was a way of atoning for all the time she didn’t spend with the group, who had to face and struggle to fix the outcome of that destruction. But a more selfish part of her just wanted to spend more time near Jean.  

“I do think though,” Jean said as they continued walking, “that you would have loved all the places we visited.”

Jean had told her about them, weaving stories about the cherry blossoms of Hizuru, the vast deserts of the Middle Eastern countries, the icy weather of the northern isles, and the active nightlife at Marley’s emerging cities. There was something extraordinary about how humanity was finding a way to rise back up despite the destruction that happened. There was still a long way to go, but little details like the ones he recounted to Mikasa gave him some hope for the future.  

Mikasa loved to hear about the different places they visited, inevitably thinking about Eren and Armin’s dreams of going outside the walls. At that point in time, she had never taken much part of their dream, happy to simply watch their enthusiasm about the outside world. But listening to Jean’s stories made her feel as if she were treading through those landscapes herself.

“Maybe I’ll see some of those places eventually,” she said, letting him stretch his arms as he walked, still holding onto her hand.

“If by some chance you find yourself lost in a hellhole like Marley’s capital, I have a spare room in my apartment,” Jean commented, taking another pause to catch his breath before continuing to walk.

Mikasa looked at him. “You’ve told me dozens of stories about your travels, but I haven’t heard much from the place you live in.”

Jean was thoughtful for a moment. “The capital city is a nice place. At least right now it is. When I arrived, it was mostly rubble and shelters for refugees. The summers were infernal too.” He told her. “But I did meet some good people there, and everyone worked hard to preserve what was left and rebuild what was destroyed. Despite everything, I think…that I miss it somehow.”

It was true, he didn’t think that he would ever come to think of Marley as his permanent home, but he had still made some memories there that he held dear. The good times, the bad times, the friends, and the lovers he had there, they were all a part of him too.          

Mikasa asked him for more details, and he went on to tell her about all the work they did in the shelters, how he had painted the walls of his apartment when he found them too plain, and the neighbors who introduced him to Marleyan cuisine and the subsequent disaster he had caused trying to cook an octopus. It made Mikasa laugh, picturing a frantic Jean trying not to burn his apartment down.

He also told her about the historical landmarks that survived the rumbling, the capital square that held all the government buildings, the hectic nightlife at the entertainment quarter, and the different dialects and languages he had discovered.

“I was terrible at first,” Jean commented, “I earned a good slap from a girl when I tried speaking to her in her dialect.”

“What did you tell her?” Mikasa asked.

“Something about my privates when I just wanted to ask her name,” Jean replied, his face flushed in embarrassment.

Mikasa stared at him blankly for a moment before bursting into laughter, the sound ringing through the quiet hallway. His embarrassing memory was forgotten as he took her in, not used to seeing her laughing so freely.

“I’m sorry-” she tried to say between bouts of laughter, failing to control it. “Oh no, that’s terrible but so funny Jean!”

She continued laughing until she finally had some control of herself. Then she looked at him and noticed that he was staring at her with something she could only describe as awe.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Mikasa asked between chuckles, her flushed face now matching his despite the darkness of the hallway.

“Oh-um sorry, it’s just that I’ve never seen you laugh like that before,” he looked away, flustered. “It’s nice.”

Mikasa felt her cheeks burn more fiercely and she let go of his hand to go near one of the windows in the hallway, calming herself down. She didn’t remember if she ever laughed like that before. Something about Jean made smiling and laughing easy instead of a struggle.

He was standing beside her now, taking in her reddened face and black hair coming loose from her hair tie. Anyone would say she looked disheveled and tired, but he only marveled at how effortlessly beautiful she was even now. He truly was hopeless, wasn’t he?

“I guess it’s new to me too,” she was still not looking at him. “Your tales, they make me happy.”

“I’m glad,” he muttered, turning to look at the outlines of the city buildings. “All these things I’ve been telling you, the places I have seen and the people I have met… they’re all still standing because of you, Mikasa.”

Mikasa immediately shook her head in denial. “No, I-”

“It’s the truth,” he interrupted, unnerved that Mikasa thought so lowly of herself. “The people that have survived and find a reason to smile and hope every day, the way everything is rising back up even better than before, you made it possible.”

She shifted in her feet, slightly flustered at his open praise. It wasn’t just her. All of them had helped stop Eren, she wanted to say. Plus, her friends were the ones who were working tirelessly to bring peace. But she couldn’t deny the comfort she felt from his words, from the anecdotes that proved that not everything was lost.

“Thanks, Jean,” she simply said, now thinking of something else she had been meaning to tell him but didn’t know how to.

They remained in comfortable silence, looking at the sleeping city before them. Before Jean could tell her that they had to go back, she finally spoke.

“Jean?”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” Mikasa murmured, twiddling her thumbs. “Since you’re already set to be discharged and will have to follow up your treatment, I was thinking…why don’t you stay at my house?”

She had said the last words too fast, but Jean’s face made it clear that he understood her.

“What? N-no Mikasa, I can’t,” he stammered while shaking his head, “I’ll be fine in my lodgings, I can take care of myself.”

Mikasa felt her heart sink at his words, but she persisted. “I know you can… but they expect you to follow a strict routine and you’re still struggling to even walk and breathe. You’re going to need someone to help you and the rest of the group won’t be able to be there when you need it. Please, Jean, let me do this for you.”

Jean only shook his head again, even if he knew what she said was true. The group would be at the council every day while Armin gave him time off to fully recover. His mom was set to go back to Trost tomorrow after he had convinced her that he was fine and would be looked after, something that was a partial lie since he didn’t really have anyone but himself. They expected him to follow strict medications which was no problem to him, but he also had to dress and clean his wounds routinely while also having to work and do normal chores.          

“Mikasa, I really appreciate it, but I can’t burden you with my condition. I promise that I’ll be fine.” His tone was firm, but the more he denied it the more desperate she became to convince him.

“You’re not a burden Jean. You could never be a burden to me. That’s why I’m asking you to consider it. This isn’t the first time you have put yourself in harm’s way for me. This is…this is the least I can do.”

Jean frowned, a little taken aback that she remembered that he had saved her once before. “What do you mean it’s the least you could do? You have done more than enough for me just by staying by my side. Don’t do this out of pity or just because you feel that you need to compensate me for something. I would take those stabbings a thousand times again if I had to.”

“It’s not out of pity!” Mikasa’s voice was shrill, which neither of them expected, and Jean blanched slightly at her tone. She reached out to grasp his arm and bowed her head, silently apologizing for raising her voice. “I want to help you,” she whispered, “it would mean everything to me if you would let me help you. We agreed that we would always be there for each other, and I meant that. Please let me help you, Jean.”

He exhaled sharply, trying to hold on to even just a sliver of stubbornness, but watching her pleading face made whatever resolve he had finally break.

Jean let out another exhale and finally nodded. “All right…I’ll stay with you, Mikasa.”

The smile that lit up her face made it worth it to him, and whatever protests he still had were quickly forgotten.

“Good, thank you, Jean.” She replied, and he wondered why she was thanking him when she was the one burdening herself for him.  

He stepped forward, unable to help himself, and took a stray lock of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. “I’ll try to be a good guest.”

“As long as no octopus is involved, I’m not worried.” Mikasa deadpanned.

This time it was his laughter ringing through the hallway.

                                                         ***

Life as a soldier had taught Jean to get accustomed to every circumstance possible. So, in that way, Jean easily got used to living with Mikasa.

It wasn’t a big house, but it was enough. He had his own room and it was suitable for the work he would continue to do from a distance.

They fall into an easy routine, a small semblance of normality in a pattern filled with triggers and bad dreams.

He wakes up, the tremors of his nightmares still permeating his body as he helps Mikasa prepare coffee and breakfast, never ignorant of the stiffness in her movements during the early hours of the morning as well. No doubt still stunned by her own nightly terrors. But they are grateful that the worst kind of nightmares are kept at bay for now, and their demons lay forgotten when they greet each other and make small talk over their meal.

Mikasa learns just how stubborn Jean can be, as despite his condition he insists on helping her with every chore around the house. She only relents slightly when it comes to cooking, with Jean making savory omelets that she can’t get enough of.

There are times when her curiosity threatens to get the best of her, where she wants to ask him what he meant by his dazed confession, but she stops herself in time. She pushes it into a hidden corner of her mind to avoid breaking this bubble of comfort - this castle in the sky they were building together.    

Jean on the other hand learned how fussy she could be, a trait he had somewhat noticed back then with Eren and Armin. But now he finds himself as the target of her attention, and it’s a little overwhelming. Amid her attention, he also notices how odd she acts around him sometimes-as if she wanted to tell him something but kept herself from doing so. He didn’t want to pressure her into anything, so he doesn’t question her about it. Instead, he is endlessly grateful; for her watchful eyes when he is walking alone, for the snacks she leaves on his desk as he drowns himself in paperwork, and for her presence in general.  

“I think Mikasa is looking to replace me as your mother”      

Jean grimaced. “Mom, please don’t start.”

“I’m only telling the truth, Jeanbo. She’s been watching over you like a hawk! It’s almost like I’m not needed around here.” His mom said, a teasing undertone in her voice.

“Mikasa has always been protective and she…well she feels guilty over what happened. I don’t know how to make her understand that none of this is her fault.” He sighed; with the book he was reading now forgotten across his lap.

“She’s a caring girl, that one. I am sure she will understand eventually. But for now, just be grateful that you have someone like her in your life, Jeanbo.”

Jean stayed quiet, taking in her words, and then shook his head. “I’ll also be grateful when you stop calling me that and never mention that Mikasa’s my new mom again.”

“You’re right. I think daughter-in-law is more fitting.”

“MOM!”

He was only met with endless laughter.            

It was an extraordinary thing, the solace one could find just by having another person close. Mikasa learns it through the easy rhythm they fall into in the kitchen, the little talks over the table, when they relax in the backyard, with their clothes loose due to the summer heat and faces flushed by the sun; through the endless stories he has from his travels, the concentration in his face when he’s sketching, or just the simple knowledge that he is here, living and breathing. Despite the guardedness that he still shows around her, the glimpses that she does get of his mind make her want to see the world through his eyes. She has always said that the world is cruel and beautiful, but when he is here, she can only see beauty.

There’s a glint in his hazel eyes when he tells her about the places they have been to that brings her an odd type of comfort. It’s one of the many quirks and details she notices about him. Their routine makes it impossible not to notice small details about each other.

He notices that she tucks her hair behind her ear when she’s embarrassed, she notices how the warm honey hues of his eyes can change color depending on the lighting, he notes the secret dimple on her left cheek if she smiles enough, she sees the way he scratches his ear when thinking hard about something, he’s transfixed by how much her grey eyes remind him of passing clouds, and she discovers that there are more scatterings of freckles and moles on his neck and arms.

This last detail she discovers during the daily procedure of changing his bandages. As former soldiers, they have found themselves in similar situations before. But the horrors of war are not around them anymore; now it’s just the both of them in the quietness of her house.

It takes great patience to convince him to let her help him, his protests that he can do it himself eventually drowned out. But when he bares his chest and the map of scars adorning it, she sometimes wonders if this was a good idea at all.

“Gruesome, huh?” He tells her one day, avoiding her eyes as his buttoned shirt lays open.

Mikasa snaps out of her stupor, immediately frowning. “Not at all, I’ve seen worse.”

She goes on to remove the bandages, trying not to wince along with him, as if she could feel his pain somehow. The sighs that escape him as she cleans and rubs the ointment on his wounds make the hairs at the back of her neck rise. There is an inevitable shyness when she sees the toned muscles of his chest and abs, when she visually traces the constellations of freckles and moles that dot the planes of smooth skin, when she sees the beauty that lays under the vestiges of war.

“Will I live to see my grandchildren, Nurse Ackerman?” Jean teases as she finishes up the task.

“Only if you behave, Mr. Kirschtein.” She teases back, pressing down the last new bandage, right over his heart.

Yes, she could get used to this.

It is easy and comforting, their new routine. They fall into it so naturally that they can almost ignore the cracks in the picture.

Almost.

Perhaps they were too hopeful or too confident that they wouldn’t have to hear each other’s night terrors, but that illusion breaks one night in which Mikasa’s screams fill the house.

Jean sat upright in his bed, having just woken up from his own nightmares, with every scream sending a dreadful shiver down his spine.

Nightmares were his nightly companions, and he and all his friends had become quite familiar with each other’s screams. The thought that Mikasa had to go through her nightmares alone pained him. The screams continued until he could not stand it anymore and walked out despite the tremors that were still shaking his body, reaching her room in no time. Her hands were tearing at her hair, and she was screaming Eren’s name in one instance while in another she was wailing for her mother and father.    

“Mikasa, wake up!” He held both of her hands tightly while she still trashed around. After a while, her screams had been reduced to small, broken whimpers. Under his tight hold she opened her eyes abruptly - her confusion clear amongst endless tears, and she suddenly grabbed Jean forcefully by his neckline as if he were a stranger.  

“It’s me Mikasa, it’s me.” Jean whispered shakily, an unbearable tension passing between them before he slowly pries her hands off him.

“Jean?” Mikasa croaked, her voice hoarse from her screams. “I’m s-I’m so sorry, Jean.”  

She could barely finish her sentence before she started sobbing, loud and broken. He remained rooted in his spot, at a loss on what to do and trying to ignore his own tremors, watching the woman he loved and the former soldier he had admired for so long cry her heart out, now listening instead to the cries of a little girl still calling for her parents.

He snapped out of his daze when she grasped at his shirt as if he were a lifeline in a sea of tears. When she turned to look at him, he wondered if it was possible to have your heart torn in two just over looking at another person’s face. She looked so broken that he wanted to somehow gather her inside his heart and let her remain there for as long as she wanted.

“Wh…w…” She tried to make out amongst her whimpers.

“Easy, easy, you’re okay now,” Jean told her gently, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. “What were you trying to say?”

“Why…why does it hurt so much?” She fixed him with her swollen eyes, “Why does it still hurt?”

He wished he had an answer to that. Even after all these years, he didn’t think the pain would ever really stop. So, he thinks he owes it to her to be honest.

“I don’t know, Mikasa.” He said, his voice breaking a little.

She pressed her forehead to his chest, still crying. He takes that as a cue and gently pulls her to him, an embrace that she quickly returns in such a way that they don’t know who is comforting who.

He thinks they must have remained like that for a good while, with him rocking her gently in his arms like a child while she grasped his lower back, trying to stop the tremors that were still shaking him.

The whimpers quiet down, and the tension in her body loosens, so he laid her down on the bed and waited for her to fall asleep. He made shushing noises while stroking her hand, noticing the signs of exhaustion taking over. She is looking at him with a dazed expression before tightening her hold on him.

“Jean?”

“What is it?”

“Can you stay with me?” She asks, her voice sleepy.  

In any other occasion, he would have promptly denied her, deeming it too improper. But watching that look on her face and remembering the terrors that would still await him back in his room made him lose all sense.

Just one night. At least just one.

He gulped and nodded, moving to climb in and get under the covers. The immediate warmth that they feel is overwhelming, and they scramble to get closer as if each other’s touch will be enough to keep the nightmares at bay.

She listened to his heartbeat, its steady pulse lulling her to sleep. His tremors died down under the gentle press of her hand, and he followed her into slumber soon after.

They have their first sleep without nightmares in years.

The moment when she wakes up in the morning is less peaceful in a way. Mikasa shoots up in her bed, feeling an onslaught of confusion and mortification when she remembered what happened.

Jean is fast asleep, his face relaxed and somehow younger, with his arm thrown over her lap. That usual subtle guardedness that he shows now completely shed.

The sight makes her heart hammer wildly and a strange warmth spreads in her chest. Before she can dwell on it or on how much she actually liked having him pressed against her, she bolts out of her room.

She doesn’t really know where she is going but she knows she must get out of there. The cold morning air greets her as she runs out of the house, running and running until she stops, gasping for breath and resting her hands on her knees.

Mist is rolling on the gravel road, revealing the scattered houses of the village in all their simpleness. She lets the coldness settle in, obliterating the heat that had overtaken her.

This was completely unexpected, and she knew it made no sense for her to react this way when she had been the one to coax him into her bed. Yet, she also knows there’s only so much sense you can have after nightmares like theirs. It was expected that they would eventually give in to that urgency, that need to cling to each other.    

A flock of birds snaps her out of her thoughts, the group flying and dipping by her house before disappearing into the nearby woodland. Soon the whole village would be waking up, and she couldn’t stay here only wearing her nightshift. She wraps her arms around herself - a futile attempt to warm herself against the cold morning air and makes her way back to the house.

The smell of coffee invades her senses when she steps in, and she sees him in the kitchen, already pouring coffee into two cups.

There’s a hint of relief in his face when he notices her, and she swallows down whatever embarrassment she still feels and greets him as usual.

He greets her back, going on to ask her what they should make for breakfast. In that way, their shyness lays forgotten and what happened earlier remains unspoken.  

Their routine for the day remains as usual, and the end of their errands sees them relaxing in her backyard like always, lazily talking about nothing and everything.  

When night falls, they’re ready to face whatever horrors await them in their sleep again.

This time, Mikasa is in what appears to be a forest, and it doesn’t take long before she notices that Eren is walking ahead of her. She tries to reach him, but he only drifts away further, occasionally looking back at her, green eyes glinting as if he’s playing a game with her.

The further he gets, the more desperate she becomes. She calls his name, but he gets even further away from her. Always far away, always unreachable.

Soon the woodland disappears, and a steep precipice appears ahead, but Eren doesn’t stop walking. She feels as if her feet are shackled while trying to reach him, and she cries out his name brokenly as he plunges down the precipice and disappears.

Instead of screams, she wakes up with cold shivers and a lump in her throat. Her body is pulled taut like a bowstring as she struggles to gain her breath back, trying to blink away her tears. Her only company was the shadows cast upon her room.  

But she then remembered that she wasn’t alone, not exactly. In another corner of her house, Jean was slumbering, probably fighting off his nightly terrors as well. It was a never-ending cycle, and yet she can’t pretend to not remember the remedy they had found against their demons: each other.

Mikasa had always put on a hard front to everybody, but she is tired, so very tired; she doesn’t want to hide or even think logically anymore. And so, ignoring all sense she stands up and makes her way to his room, her steps only a whisper against the wooden floor.

She shouldn’t have been surprised when she saw him sitting up in his bed already, though he didn’t seem to have noticed her, looking disconcerted. In the dim light, she can see that he is paler than usual and that his eyes are wide with unshed tears. He seems to finally recognize her as she reaches for him and gently wipes away the moisture that was beginning to spill down his cheeks.

There is an unfathomable look on his face as she soothes him, and when she asks a silent question with her own red-rimmed gaze, he pauses and then moves to open the covers for her.

She doesn’t hesitate to climb in.

                                                      ***  

There was childish laughter coming from the large yard.

It was a comforting sight, watching the children of the orphanage go about their day, playing their little games.

Jean could barely remember the time when he was that carefree and innocent, he pondered as he walked with Armin around the establishment.

“Until wintertime then?” He asked, not knowing how to take the information.

“That’s what I’ve been told. They will pick delegates to go to each of the allied nations. Whoever remains here is still unclear.” Armin said as he walked, looking at Jean’s tired expression and keeping a close watch on Jean’s steps as he balanced himself on a cane. He rarely used it but since he had insisted that he was ready to attend meetings he started bringing it with him, the constant walking and touring taking its toll on his body.      

It had been common knowledge that they would need representatives in every nation, but the fact that there was already an established time for him to possibly leave Paradis took him by surprise. There were still months left for winter, and he still hadn’t made up his mind on whether he wanted to stay or leave.

They stopped in a far corner, with Jean leaning against the wooden fence, recalling a distant memory of when he was younger and stood here with his friends. In the distance, they noticed Mikasa walking in the grassy area, inspecting a group of kids who were playing on some swing sets. She noticed both of her friends watching and they waved at each other before she focused back on the children.  

“She’s been quite active here,” Armin observed.

“And yet she still feels guilty for some reason,” Jean said, fishing around his pockets until he found what he was looking for.

Armin narrowed his eyes as he watched Jean lighting up a cigarette. His friend noticed him and groaned. “What? I’ve had to deal with Mikasa scolding me already, you’re going to lecture me as well?”

“You’re still recovering from a punctured lung, Jean.”

“I’ve dealt with worse things,” Jean mumbled, exhaling puffs of smoke. He knew his friends were right, but he couldn’t help it.

He sighed and took another drag. “So, tell me about this airshow, will you? What exactly are they planning?”

“I don’t have anything to do with it, but every delegation is expected to attend of course. The Yeagerists have made sure to spend every penny on the ceremony.” Armin said as he also leaned back against the fence.

Jean snorted. “This whole thing feels like a circus, it won’t be long before they go back on their word, I’m sure.”

“Perhaps, but in the meantime, we do what we can, and what we must. Even the Yeagerists know that we have to depend on each other. Right now, we focus on peace.”

Paradis too was struggling to rise back up, with its damaged borders and the destruction of the ecosystems around the world leading to severe droughts, forest fires, and famine. If the rumbling had gone any further, there was no chance they would have survived. Currently, every country was struggling with the reforestation of their lands and developing new technologies to battle the climate crisis. The treaty would be a milestone in that direction.

“Peace is only relative,” Jean remarked.

“Of course, but we must leverage that peace, be it relative or not. I will always condemn what Eren did, but I think he would want us to take advantage of whatever chances we can take.”

“It’s not like he left us much choice,” Jean spat, and then gave a tired sigh. “But whatever is best for us, I will vouch for that and support you along the way.”

“I know you will,” Armin said, bumping Jean’s shoulder and taking in the circles under his eyes. “I don’t want you to strain yourself too much though. If you can’t attend the ceremony, I will excuse you.”

Jean shook his head, exhaling another puff of smoke. “I will be there. I won’t give those assholes the pleasure of not attending.”

Armin hummed in response. “I hear that there are many other events planned beside the ceremony for the treaty. There are rumors that sweet Vera is coming here to perform.”

Jean looked elsewhere. “I heard that as well.”

Vera was a Marleyan singer and actress who quickly rose in fame all over the continent. Her advocate work with the Alliance was well documented, as she used her cultural influence to help gather supporters and fund numerous causes. Just as her charity work was well known, so was her affair with Ambassador Kirschtein.

He had been assigned to escort her to performances and public speeches linked to their cause. One thing led to another, and it was only a matter of time before they ended up tangled between the sheets. The prospect of seeing her made him feel strange but also happy, as despite their casual flings she had also been a good friend.

“Seem like Paradis is ready to deal with the outside world, and not just through treaties,” Armin remarked.

“Oh, they’ll love her for sure, she stole hearts whenever she went,” Jean said while taking another drag.

“Did she steal yours?”

Jean rolled his eyes. “No one stole anything, she and I made our boundaries clear before we started sleeping together. It was the same for all the other women I’ve been with. They took what they wanted, and I took what I wanted.”

“You think you will ever settle down?” Armin asked.

“I don’t know…especially not after…” Jean stopped himself.  “Ah, never mind.”    

“I’m all ears,” Armin said, looking at him expectantly.

Jean remained quiet for such a long time that Armin thought he wouldn’t say anything at all.

“I’m in love with Mikasa,” Jean finally admitted, feeling a weight lifted off his shoulders.          

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Armin replied, looking at him sympathetically. “Have you tried telling her?”

“What? No, I’ll never tell her,” Jean said, dropping the cigarette and crushing it. “She doesn’t see me that way and I respect that. I’m happy as her friend.”

“You don’t believe that.” Armin had an eyebrow quirked.

“Oh, but I do, the time I’ve spent with her… it has kept me sane in a way,” Jean told him, then shaking his head. “I’m so in love with her it feels ridiculous. I can’t even think about settling down with anyone else even if I know I have no chance with her.”

“Why do you think that? You claim to respect her, but are you really doing that when you don’t even bother to know what she thinks?”

Jean scoffed. “I don’t need to ‘bother’ because I already know what she thinks. Her heart belongs to Eren, that’s a simple fact.”

It was Armin’s turn to scoff. “Eren is dead, Jean. She killed him if I may remind you, and she has always been a full, stronghearted person outside of him. You may love and cherish a memory, but there’s only so much love you can give to a dead man.”

Jean could only look away, staying quiet. Armin followed his tired gaze and found unsurprisingly fixed on Mikasa, who was now spinning a little girl in her arms.

“You may not believe me, but I’ve never seen her this relaxed and happy, not even when we were children.”

“I want her to be happy. That’s all I want.”

“Well, she looks happier than ever to me, and it’s because of you.”

“Don’t make me laugh,” Jean rolled his eyes.

“I’m not trying to make you laugh, it’s just the truth. Take it from someone who practically grew up with her.” Armin insisted. “Besides, I don’t think I could make you laugh with that weary expression you’ve had all day. Have you even slept lately?”

“Mikasa kept me up last night,” Jean replied, before realizing what he said.

Armin looked embarrassed. “She…kept you up, huh?”

“Not that way I- for goodness’ sake, Armin! I would never take advantage of her like that!” Jean exclaimed, blushing furiously while Armin smirked.    

“Care to explain then?”

“We…ah, we’re sharing a bed, it helps with our nightmares,” Jean explained, avoiding Armin’s curious look. “It’s just sleeping I swear, somehow…somehow it makes it easier.”

Armin nodded in understanding, thinking of the solace he and Annie had found with each other in a similar way, though it was also different since their ritual had quickly taken a much more physical level.

“You don’t have to reassure me of anything, whatever you guys do is none of my business,” Armin said. “And I know you would never take advantage of her.”

Jean said nothing, still looking at Mikasa in the distance.  

“But I insist that you must be honest with her.”

“I don’t think so, Armin. Let’s leave it at that.” Jean tried to end the subject.

“I never took you for being such a pessimist. I thought you wanted to be with her since we were Scouts.”

“Even back then I was aware that there was no chance she would ever return my feelings. So, I kept my distance and ignored it. And I-well… I turned to other girls.”

Jean looked embarrassed but Armin nodded in understanding, remembering the times when Jean and Connie would come in late from having explored whatever town they were stationed in and all it had to offer. Their time in Marley had been similar in that regard, with Reiner occasionally taking part in their escapades.

“In that way, I thought I was over her for a long time. It was easy to get distracted by constant missions, carousing, and sex. I should have known my feelings would only come back stronger once I saw her again.” Jean continued, still looking ashamed. “I have accepted that I’m in love with her, but I have also accepted that I’m just her friend, and I’m happy to be that. Being by her side, that is more than enough for me.”  

Armin looked at Jean and saw that he truly meant his words. While he felt bad for his friend, he also couldn’t help his frustration at his resignation.

“You make everything sound so hopeless.” The blond complained, leaning further into the fence.

Jean smiled sadly. “I am utterly hopeless when it comes to her,” he said, “I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it.”

“You don’t have to get over it, you can simply love unapologetically. This world…us and our friends, we have seen too much misery. We owe it to ourselves to try and get some happiness, don’t we?”

“I don’t know if that’s possible… dreams, settling down, having a family, is it all worth it when we don’t know if this so-called peace will even last?”

Armin fixed him with his gaze. “It is worth it every bit,” he affirmed. “I have to believe that because…well, I want to tell you something.”

Jean looked at him curiously as Armin fidgeted with his hands. “I uh…I am planning to propose to Annie.”

A small silence passed between them before Jean’s face broke into pure happiness despite his tiredness.

“That’s-that’s amazing, Armin! I’m proud of you.” Jean said gleefully as he stepped forward to hug his friend tightly and pat his back.

“Hey! I haven’t even asked her yet and we don’t know if she’ll say yes!” Armin laughed, still hugging Jean back.

“Of course, she’ll say yes you idiot,” Jean said. “She looks at you as if the sun shines out of your ass.”

They both laughed before separating, still holding onto each other’s arms. “I don’t know how any of this works, but would you be my best man?”

Jean was already nodding before Armin finished his sentence. “Of course, of course, I’ll do it.”

“Good, because I have no idea what to do after I ask her.”

“And you think I do?” Jean countered, and they both laughed out loud again before continuing their walk, feeling much more at ease than before and enjoying the light breeze. There was still a lot of apprehension clouding Jean’s mind, but for now, he was glad that his friend wanted to take his chance at happiness. A glimmer of hope in the midst of uncertainty. For now, he could be happy about that.

                                                       ***

The planes were flying at a safe distance, yet it felt as if they could graze the onlookers in a heartbeat. There was a cacophony of cheers, music, chatter, and roars from the planes that were flying overhead.

It seemed surreal that this was happening. It was almost as if all the hatred and tension that their visit had brought was broken, now replaced by celebration and merriment. The cheers came and went the same way the steel birds flew and dipped across the blue sky.

Jean had stood on the stage at the town square some hours ago, tall and defiant despite the scars he bore underneath his formal clothing and the cane that signified his survival.

His presence had given everyone much to talk about, some in puzzlement and others in admiration. He gave a speech with no problem and made sure to look at every Yeagerist official directly in the eye as they shook hands, silently telling them that this was his home.  

Now he stood at the edges of the city that overlooked an extensive lake, watching with the members of the delegation as planes flew in unpredictable ways overhead, a sign of progress and more things to come.

He leaned against the railing, looking at the other delegations on the lower levels. Standing amongst the Hizurian delegation was Mikasa, who was also focused on the aerial spectacle while exchanging words with Kiyomi. Even with her small height the Hizurian diplomat still had an imposing presence whenever she went.  

Almost as if Mikasa had felt the weight of his stare, she suddenly turned her head and found his gaze. Normally he would have been flustered but watching the smile that she gave him made him feel calm even in the middle of all the excitement that was happening around them. He smiled back before Kiyomi got her attention again and he turned back to the planes.

The sight of the planes flying and turning across the sky made him feel a small ache as he remembered Hange. He was sure the late commander would have loved this. Her excitement over all things unknown had left a huge gap amongst the former soldiers. Now all they could do was continue their endeavors for peace, just as she would have wanted.

He was hit by a barrage of memories as he watched, also wondering how Levi was faring while also finding reassurance in knowing that he was in good company and getting the rest he deserved. But just as he remembered past recollections, a small hidden memory surged up to the surface of his mind, now clear and prominent.

I liked you Mikasa, you know? I think I even loved you, since we were trainees.                            

No, it couldn’t be.

I wish he was here, I wish I could bring him back. I’m sorry I can’t do anything, I’m so sorry Mikasa…

The strange behavior Mikasa sometimes showed around him now made sense, and Jean suddenly felt as if he were about to vomit, his face blanching.

He had resolved to be Mikasa’s friend and not make things strange between them. But he had failed with flying colors.

With one last glance at Mikasa- who was still engaged in conversation, he backed away and left the compound, ignoring the questioning stares from his friends.

He walked as fast as he could even in his delicate state, immune to the fanfare around him and feeling absolutely mortified.                    

Way to go, dumbass.                      

[wendimydarling]

Count to Three

https://weheartit.com/entry/220987445

Title: Count to Three

Summary: Casey can’t fall asleep and Dean is there to help.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC (Casey Moore)

Word Count: 2110

Warnings: Fingering, Oral sex, external stimulation, female orgasm, protected penetrative sex, mention of bodily fluids.

A/N: So I usually post Henry Cavill content. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever posted a story that’s not for him. But this... this felt right. Please understand that this is the first smut I ever wrote, all the way back in 2012. I posted it forever ago on fanfiction.net, which I’m pretty sure doesn’t even operate anymore. I haven’t edited it save for some formatting that will make it easier to read, and I definitely cringed quite a bit while re-reading it, but it felt dishonorable to edit the original. 

You’re not gonna understand everything that’s going on because it’s a snippet from a much larger fic, but the basic info that you need to know is that Casey and Dean are connected by a spell, and she sees his future in her dreams. 

Now, there is a further continuation of the author’s note at the bottom of the fic explaining why I’m posting this that contains MASSIVE SPOILERS for the series finale, so if you don’t wanna know, don’t click keep reading. It’s that simple, I’ve done everything I can to defend you.

"Shhhh, shhhh... Casey, calm down." Dean strode across the room to sit next to her on the bed, uncharacteristically pulling her into his arms and putting his hand behind her neck. Casey wasn't even sure why she was crying, she was just so very frustrated at not being able to remember. The boys' life was in her hands, and her damn brain couldn't remember the dream. 

"Casey, it's not gonna come back to you if you don't calm down," Dean whispered so she would have to quiet down and listen. "Now breathe." Casey closed her eyes and breathed deep, focusing on her other senses. Dean had never been this close before, and she could smell the soft musk of his soap. Sandalwood, leather, black pepper, a hint of scotch, and motor oil from his car, she thought to herself, letting the scent wash over her in soothing waves. She could hear him breathe, slow and steady, and she tried to match him as best she could. The hand she had on his chest could feel his heart, beating out a strong rhythm. 

The muscles underneath that hand rippled at her touch, and for a moment she felt a small spark in the pit of her stomach. Casey opened her eyes and found herself eye to eye with the most beautiful irises she'd ever seen. She was normally such an observant person, how had she never noticed the piercing green she saw now? And his lips, they looked much softer when they were this close and not drawn into such a tight line. Her mind began to drift to things, inappropriate things, like how much experience he had and what he could be doing with those lips... 

"Casey?" 

Casey snapped back to reality. 

"Sorry, I'm calm," she assured Dean quickly, not wanting to betray her thoughts. "I just wish I could remember. If I could just sleep, I would dream it again and remember, but I'm not even close to tired, so I doubt that will happen." Dean smirked, knowing full well what she had just been thinking (even though she very gracefully tried to hide it). He had been with enough women to know when they wanted him, and he had to admit he liked the idea of sleeping with Casey. She was a pretty girl, and feisty to boot. He'd been scheming for weeks, trying to figure out a way to get her to bed without it complicating things. Without realizing it, Casey had just handed him the solution on a platter, and he wasn't about to let it pass by.

"I could help you with that," he said, flirting. Casey looked up at him confused, so he went on. "With the sleeping... I know exactly what we could do to wear you out. All I have to do is count to three." His hand was still around her neck, so before Casey had time to register what he was saying, he pulled her to him and kissed her with a feather-light touch, making her question if his lips had actually touched her. He held his face right to hers and paused, waiting for her to put two and two together. Casey looked at Dean like he was crazy, and then suddenly it dawned on her. 

"Oh," she breathed. "Okay." That 'okay' was all Dean needed and his mouth was on hers, lips moving together in a violent dance. He was normally gentle with his lovers, but this wasn't the time. The whole point was for Casey to be exhausted, so Dean was going to give her every move he had. She was going to beg before he let her have it. 

Casey let Dean take charge; she was content to let him have his way with her, and the way he was moaning against her mouth, he seemed to agree. His hand left her face and came down to join its brother at the hem of her shirt. He lifted the fabric to reveal smooth skin, and even Dean was surprised at how soft it was. He paused the kiss to remove her shirt completely, stopping short once it was gone. She was even more beautiful than he had realized. Casey whimpered at the lack of touch, so he quickly pulled his shirt off and continued his attack on her lips; pushing her horizontal and climbing on top of her in the process. Casey was in heaven. She had never been kissed so forcefully, so passionately, and she loved it. The weight of his lips, the brush of his fingers, the firmness of his abs beneath her fingertips; it was all so wonderfully overwhelming. Her insides ached with desire, and she wanted more. She knew Dean was drawing this out on purpose, but she was getting frustrated. Wanting to move things along, she unbuckled his belt and whipped it out of its loops, surprising Dean and giving her the opportunity to unbutton and unzip his pants. Dean caught her wrists in his hands and brought them down to her sides. 

"My timing," he scolded, laughing at her groan of displeasure. He gave her a little tease by undoing her pants and pulling them down just past her crotch. The cool air hit her exposed groin, fabric already wet with her desire, and she groaned again, this time in excitement. Pulling her arms above her head, Dean came back up to kiss her neck, skillfully running his tongue in the crease of her collarbone. He moved his head down to kiss her ribs, knowing that when he did she would arch her back, which would give him access to the back of her bra. Casey left her arms where they were as he undid the clasp, revealing her breasts. She wasn't a large girl, but she was proportioned in just the right way, each breast round with a small pink center. Showing no mercy, Dean took one of her nipples in his mouth as he pinned her arms again, sucking on the soft flesh to get it hard and then flicking it rapidly under his tongue. Casey cried out at the warm sensations, and tried in vain to get away from the teasing touches. Her breasts had always been slightly ticklish, and though it felt amazing, she couldn't help trying to escape his grasp. Dean held firm and continued the onslaught on her breasts, alternating between the two as her cries and squirms egged him on. He was having fun playing with her nipples, and seeing as though she couldn't go anywhere, he wasn't going to stop any time soon. 

Casey could feel his cock growing harder against her leg, and her inability to touch him back increased her arousal. She wanted nothing more than to take his member in her mouth and torture him in return, but she was pinned, which only made her mound throb harder. "Dean! Dean pleeeease!" Casey screamed, the nerves in her breasts sending fire to her loins. "I can't... no more... I need... inside..." She couldn't even form a proper sentence. The fire was burning inside her, growing hotter and hotter as she begged him to give her release. It seemed as though her pleas fell on deaf ears as Dean ignored her request to enter her. Instead, he took both her wrists in one hand and brought the other hand down to tickle the breast his mouth wasn't currently sucking on. 

The fire inside Casey erupted at the combination of the tandem touch, and she came hard. Her breath came out in strangled cries, and she bucked harder against him than she had before. Dean kept up his steady rhythm, licking and tickling and slowing only once she came down. 

"One," he said with a grin, laughing softly at the expression on her face. He sat up quickly. Before Casey had time to reassemble her thoughts, Dean was tugging off her pants, and encircling her hips with one arm. The hand that had been pinning her arms slid down her side, past her hip, and came to rest cupping her crotch, thumb brushing against the skin he found there. Casey gasped against his touch, pleasure lacing itself through her veins. She tried to grab his hands, but Dean just smacked hers away. He pulled her panties down just enough that he could reach her bare clit, and stuck his talented tongue into the crevasses of her body. Casey keened as he began his torturous flicking again, wanting him to open her up and fuck her with that tongue instead. She felt Dean smile against her womanhood, and in vain she prayed he would give her more. 

He didn't. Dean used his free hand to pin her wrists underneath her body so that she couldn't push him away and continued licking her up and down. He used two fingers from his other hand to move aside her underwear, slid them in between her lips and held them there, making Casey gasp, and pull against his firm grip. 

"No, Dean please," she said, trying to persuade him to free her hands. Dean ignored her and held fast, shifting his body slightly to spread her legs a little further apart (which elicited another gasp from Casey). He brought his lips down to her button and sucked hard, shoving his fingers inside of her at the same time. Casey's brain exploded at the sudden warmth of his fingers. He pushed and pulled and twisted and scissored in every possible way, contorting his fingers to find every spot inside of her that made her scream. Of course, that wasn't very hard to do; thanks to his mouth on her slit it didn't matter where his fingers went, her orgasm stayed strong. 

"Oh my God... Oh my God, Dean!" She cried out as wave after wave of pleasure continued to roll through her. 

"That's right baby, say my name," Dean mumbled around her mound, trying his best to ignore how unbearably tight his pants were. He would have satisfaction soon enough, so he focused on her. She was still choking out strangled gasps of pleasure, so he moved his fingers faster, pumping her in time with his tongue. Casey's eyes rolled back into her head and she became rigid, her body locked in spasms and her mouth falling open into a silent scream. Her muscles relaxed and she went limp, eyes closed, head rolling slightly and chest heaving. She didn't even fight Dean's grip anymore, just moaned as he slowed down his pace. "Two," Dean noted quietly as he took the opportunity to stand up and remove his pants and boxers. He groaned in relief as his throbbing cock was freed from its tight bondage, not at all surprised to see he was already leaking. He bent over and pulled a condom from his wallet, tearing the wrapping with his teeth and then slipping the condom on with one hand. Casey hadn't moved, hadn't even felt him get up. Eyes still closed, she felt gentle fingers slowly tug her panties off, so she spread her legs wide, inviting whatever was to come next. She was expecting more teasing, more drawn out torture, so when she was suddenly filled with Dean's length, her eyes snapped open, breath catching in her throat. Dean growled, and began to thrust himself deep inside her. Casey's reaction was immediate, her body opening up to receive all of him, her arms coming above her head so her hands could grasp the sheets behind her. Dean was relentless, pounding into her with fury. He grasped the headboard for leverage, and kept up his pace, hard and fast. Casey cried out every time he was deepest, and Dean felt himself slipping over the edge. Casey's third orgasm rocked through her body at the same time Dean let go, his shout mixing with her cry. He continued to thrust through his orgasm, keeping her pleasure high, until it hurt too much to continue. Casey relaxed her body again, and let Dean clean up, too tired to move. 

Dean finished in the bathroom, and came back into the room to find Casey fast asleep, still naked and sprawled across the bed. Dean looked at her tenderly, pulling the covers out from under her body and draping them over her so she would be warm. He climbed into the bed next to her, wrapping his arms around her worn out frame. She snuggled closer to him, seeking his warmth, and looked up at him through moon-slit eyes. 

"Thank you," she mumbled to him, drifting back into sleep. Dean looked down at her and kissed her forehead. 

"Three," he whispered.

A/N Continued: Okay, so I’m not here to get into a debate about what they did or did not do right in last night’s episode. I don’t care about your politics, I don’t care about what you think about the episode as a whole. I’m posting this as a tribute. A tribute to Dean Winchester.

Dean is... was, my first love. He introduced me to writing. He was my first boyfriend, he showed me things about my body that I wasn’t aware it could do. He showed me what it meant to keep fighting in the face of adversity. He was there to encourage me when all hope seemed lost. He reminded me that he too dealt with what seemed like an unloving parent, with a parent who no matter what you did, it was never enough. And watching him die like that broke my heart.

So, this story is for you Dean. I love you, I will always love you, and it’s okay. 

You can go now. ❤

[angelfishofthelord]

you are beloved

(An SPN fic; first person Cas POV)

I wasn’t there when you were born, and I missed the first time you died.

I wanted to be there both times. I planned to be there. I just didn’t think you

 There was this  

  I thought that I  

I didn’t know it would happen so fast. The day you were born we just finished putting together the crib, the one you never got to use. We had a room set up for you, did you ever get to see it? You know I helped your mother choose the colors for your room. There aren’t nearly enough different pigments in the paint section of the store to accurately represent the full spectrum of colors, but I chose the ones that came the closest to the prism that I can see. That I knew you’d be able to see too. There is beauty threaded through every diamond of sunlight here, in every note of a falling leaf, from every dance of water running over your hands. And I knew that I would fight for you to be to witness to all that, all that world, all the life, I would die to protect

Jack. I never wanted my death to be the first time you saw me.

I thought of you, before I died. Your name spun through my mind amid the fury of my grace burning out. Tiny fragments of thought fell between my last breaths and I tried to reach out to you with nothing with embers.

I’m thinking about you again now, knowing that I’ll be gone soon. You’re going to be alright this time, though. You won’t be alone and scared and huddled in the shadow of an unforgiving world. I’m going to make sure of it; I’m going to make sure that there are people who care about you there, standing by you. That you have a family and a home to call your own.

(do you know how happy you’ve made me)

I remember the first time you made me smile; it was before you were even born. I could hear the  sound of your footsteps, exploring the dark of where your mother carried you. The sound of your grace, reaching for mine in notes soft and curious. I remember how strong you were. Before you ever even took your first step you rose up to shield me from harm. How you knit through the seams of my grace and there was nothing vile or vicious there, nothing but the warmth of purest love. I remember your voice seeping into my dreams in the Empty, like a gentle hand on my shoulder, waking me up to go and face the sun.

It all seems like eons ago. It’s only been three years.

Jack, your life is still so brand new, blossoming boldly even in these few years. Yet you have already suffered so immensely. I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to shelter you more, that I couldn’t keep you from everyone who ever tried to hurt you. When you were dying the first time, I tried to heal you; I pushed every strand of my grace forward, willing them to touch and heal the wilting organs inside but they refused to reach out. (If it could have saved you) I would have given all of my grace, I would have let the blade cut and the waterfall run.

If it could have saved you I would have made the deal sooner, to spare you from having to die at all.

When you died I

I didn’t know that

I didn’t know you were going to leave us so soon. I stepped outside for just a moment. But as soon as I came back I could feel the vacuum in the air, the abyss filling every hollow of my being. Your absence was alive, a hurricane tearing through the spine of every echo in the hall. I know you didn’t want me to make that deal, but you have to understand. When you love someone like that, it’s not even really a choice. It’s instinct, it’s as true as a heart beating or lungs expanding to take in air.  

(humans would call it the natural order of life children should outlive their parents)

The second time you died I was there, right next to you, trying to stop it as it happened. You were screaming and my grace screamed back and our voices bruised each other. In the shattered second before you were snuffed out the last flicker of your grace reached for me, crying out in terror and I couldn’t grasp even that smallest part of you and save it.

I couldn’t save you. I had to burn your body. You don’t know

 maybe this isn’t what  

there was a demon defiling it he tried to mimic your voice to deceive me and and I knew it wasn’t true but I wanted for a moment to believe it when he said  

He said “Cas.”

He said “Cas. Stop. Please.”

I wanted to believe that you were back, that you were hiding, perhaps in the recesses of your vessel, gathering strength to reemerge. I just wanted to be able to take you home.  

I burned you so no evil could ever corrupt your memory again.

You still followed me around, though. You were there in the desperate eyes of the parents who came to me for help; you were the wonder in the children’s voices when I healed them. You were the skip of light across the surface of the lake and the flip of fish tails that skittered from the toss of my line. You were in my dreams (angels don’t dream) whenever I closed my eyes I saw you and when I opened them you weren’t there. That’s a dream, isn’t it? Something you want to be real ghosting across the canvas of your mind, only to disintegrate at the light of reality.

I tried to go to Heaven to know if you were there, with your mother. It might have offered me some comfort, to know that you’d been spared the claws of nothingness. But the gates to Heaven were closed, the last few angels cowering there in fear from our Father. They wouldn’t even dare venture as far down as the edge of the gate to let me talk to them. I waited there for hours, begging for them to answer me. I even prayed to Naomi, hoping that wherever she was she might hear me and come down. But day ebbed into night and then back into day and I was still standing there alone, with no idea of where you had gone in your death.

Later, when you told me that you’d been in the Empty, the fear that I’d been keeping at bay crashed over me. That was the one place I didn’t want to believe you’d gone, the one horror I thought I had spared you from. You reassured me that Death had been there, and she had keep the Empty calm and quiet for as long you needed to remain hidden. But then you looked at me and said “I can’t believe that’s where you’re going to have to end up. It’s so dark. And endless.”

I squeezed your shoulder and told you it was okay. I wouldn’t be heading back there for awhile.

I didn’t know. I wasn’t lying. I didn’t know that I would have to return there so soon.

I didn’t know that it would come down to this, Jack. But there’s you, there’s Sam and Dean, there’s a whole world at stake and I’m not ready to lose everything. I can stop this from happening.

This time you can’t bring me back.

(you know that right)

I don’t want your last memory of me to be my death.

Keep reading on A03

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of Black Lives Matter, @nigeltde-fic donated $25, and requested Sam & Dean & amnesia. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

The gorgon hits Dean in the head and Sam panics because he always panics, when Dean’s bleeding and not responding, but that’s not the worst part. Dean’s bleeding and he won’t wake up, and Sam drives as fast as he can possibly drive--faster--and Sam carries him from the car to the bed and he still won’t wake up, and that’s not the worst part. Sam touches his face and the panic’s become this solid untouchable thing that fuzzes everything else in the world out to weird impossible static, and Dean flinches under his touch and seizes and he’s still bleeding because it’s a head wound, and head wounds bleed like a bitch but Sam remembers Dean telling him when he was fourteen and trying not to cry it’s not that bad, Sammy, it always looks worse than it is, it’s just blood, it’s okay--only it is bad, and it’s worse than it looks. Michael drains out of Dean’s body with the blood like a cracked bottle of whiskey spilling all over the floor, and Michael takes Rowena, and Michael kills all the refugees who were Sam’s responsibility, and Jack then kills Michael--kills Michael, the monster haunting Dean’s eyes and Sam’s dreams gone in a flash--but that’s something Sam can’t look at, right now--because Dean sits up in the infirmary, shocked and blinking and scared, and he says to Sam, “Sam?” but he looks around too and says, “What is this place?” and he says, “Sam? Sam, what happened? Where are we?” and Sam closes his eyes and thinks, no. No.

It’s a week, of taking care of the bodies. Trying to contact any friends they had, who might’ve known them from that other world, who might want to come and stand witness to their burning. Dean helps, because he has two hands and no matter what it seems that an essential part of him wants to be useful, but he doesn’t feel it. Not really. Sam chops wood and sets Dean to building, and Dean does, and sneaks uncertain looks at the strangers who sit miserable in their home, stands just behind Sam’s shoulder during the funerals, says constantly: who are they? what happened? Sam? Sam?

Sam doesn’t know what happened. Cas has examined Dean (Jack wanted to but they didn’t let him, uncertain of his raw golden-grace power), and Sam’s been as gentle as he can with his questions, and they called back Rowena, even, from her terrified flight, and none of them have an answer. Dean knows Sam, and nothing else. Not Castiel, not the bunker, not hunting. Not their mother, and Mary’s mouth trembled as she smiled at Dean, told him that it was okay, that she was sure he’d remember one day. She left again, that night, and Dean sat in Sam’s room and said, “Why can’t I remember,” with his head in his hands, and Sam didn’t have an answer to that, either.

The funerals over and Sam can’t seem to ditch the smell of ash. Burning flesh. Like pork, singed on a barbecue, and it makes him nauseous in the middle of the night, makes him stand over his sink with his gut heaving but he doesn’t puke. He breathes, eyes closed, mouth filling up with spit, and walks the empty corridors of the bunker alone. Mom’s gone and Cas is making himself scarce, looking for some kind of solution, and Jack’s odd and quiet in his room, and the scorch-marks on the concrete floors have long been cleaned up, and Dean--

Dean remembers him. Dean watches him, his eyes pinned to Sam the second they’re in the same room. Dean has his own bed but he doesn’t like it, finds it strange. Too warm, too soft. “Sammy,” Dean says, miserable when Sam leaves him there, but Sam can’t take advantage and he doesn’t know what to do, with this brother who knows him and nothing else.

It wasn’t like this, before. The knowing drained out of Dean slow, little trickles. Words, processes. Forgetting a lamp, surprised by a cartoon. Forgetting his animosities and his histories and his training until he was just--blank. Sweet. Brutal, because he was forgetting himself and Sam at the same time, and even if Sam managed to save himself at the last second with Dean knowing what brother meant--what it meant to them both--it was torture to see it slip away, piece by piece.

It’s gone entirely, now. Sam sits with Dean in the library and puts the tape recorder on, takes notes. “What do you remember?” he asks, putting his miseries aside, and Dean says, “You,” sad, like that’s all that counts. Sam closes his eyes and Dean’s hand closes around his wrist, holding on. His hand is just as calloused as it always was even without the memory that proves the callouses were earned.

“Tell me anyway,” Sam says, trying to smile, and Dean licks his lips, seems like he’s really trying to think.

“We’re from--Kansas,” he says, uncertain, and Sam nods, encouraging. “We--we grew up together.”

“Yeah, we did,” Sam says. He lets Dean keep his wrist. The touch of his skin is--the same. Somehow feels the same. “You remember where?”

Flicker of worry, across Dean’s face. “There was a car,” he says, uncertain still even though Sam brought him to the Impala on the second day when he realized what was happening, and Sam folds over the table, wants to cry.

“Sammy,” Dean says, tender, and touches his hair. He cards through it soft, his hands gentle and knowing, and Sam shudders. He misses his brother so badly he could just crumple into the floor. Could sell his soul. Could just die, miserable here, and hope that when--if--he got to heaven, his real brother would be there, waiting, would say to him crap, dude, took you long enough, and Sam could grab him in tight and hold him and it would mean everything it was supposed to mean, when Dean’s nose brushed his neck, when his hand cupped the back of Dean’s skull.

“I remember you,” Dean says, and Sam pushes away--dinner to take care of, and watching Dean eat and barely picking at his own meal, and the bunker empty, empty, empty. Everything Sam had worked for disappeared, and his one stalwart, his one anchor--

Midnight and his door shoves open, startles him where he’s laying on his back, staring up into nothing. Dean, backlit--but the light white, not red--and Sam reins in his gasp and sits up and says, “What’s the matter?” and Dean comes in and goes to his knees in front of Sam’s feet and says, “Sammy, I remember you.”

He’s staring up, earnest. His eyes clear, green as green even in the dark in here, his focus entirely and utterly on Sam. “I know you do,” Sam says, sore, but Dean grips his arms, shakes his head.

“You don’t,” he says, urgent as a little kid, and it twists in Sam’s belly, makes him look away, but Dean holds him tighter, doesn’t let him get away--says--

“You were so smart, and you were so fuckin’ stubborn--my little brother but I wasn’t in charge of dick, because you’d just get your way no matter what, even if it came a way I didn’t expect it. You and me didn’t get along all the time but we had some stuff--movies we watched, and music we both listened to--and you can’t sing for shit but when you’re drunk you give it a try, and you sound awful but it just makes me happy every time I think about it because it’s when you were happy and I know that’s about the best thing that can happen to me. When you’re happy. I know I--fuck up a lot, and I say crap I shouldn’t say, and I don’t know what it’s about but I remember the times you started to look--shit, like you do now, and it feels like crap but I don’t know how to make it right. Sammy, I don’t know how to make it right.”

Sam feels like crying. Dean’s hand grips his shoulder, touches his chest. “Sam, I remember you,” he says, thick and true, and Sam reaches out and gets a hand on the back of his skull, his fingers sinking into the thick soft buzz-short hair, the warmth that feels right even if nothing else does. “Sam.”

“What else do you remember?” Sam says, aching, and Dean says, “I remember when you came back, but I don’t know from where, and it was like--it was like the friggin’ continents were all upside down and then got turned right side up, and you were pissed as hell at me and I figured probably I deserved it but I didn’t care, it didn’t matter because Sam was here, and I know--Sam, I know I’m not right, I know things might be bad, and I’m gonna try to get right because I know I’m supposed to be your partner or whatever, but I--man, I’m going nuts, because I’m here, and you’re not.”

His hand hurts, gripping so hard on Sam’s shoulder. Sam breathes. “I’m here, Dean,” he says, and Dean says, touching his jaw, sad and clear, “You’re not, you’re not,” and he leans up and kisses Sam then, soft and on-target in the near-dark. His mouth, and his smell--Sam cups him closer, grips his t-shirt and hauls him up, closer, his body warm and familiar and right up against Sam’s, his hands rough and firm, his breathing the thing Sam wants to sync his body to, every morning. Dean kisses him short and quick and soft, pulls back and breathes and does it again, and again, and then shoves at Sam’s shoulders and makes him fall back to the bed and then crawls up, covers Sam’s body, cups Sam’s face in his hands, kisses him melting and sure and with his lip catching chapped against Sam’s lip, and Sam holds him so tight he’s sure it hurts and then pushes him back, a handful of inches to breathe, to think.

Dean looks at him, brow furrowed, close. The light from the hall rims his ear in clear golden light. “The only thing that matters is you, Sammy,” he says, quiet.

Sam feels like his body’s collapsing, in some essential way. Infrastructure, demolished, a cold and dusty ruin left behind. He runs his finger along the back of Dean’s ear, traces the warmth down to the steady, certain beat of Dean’s heart. “Us,” Sam says--corrects--gives up, and Dean slides his hand into Sam’s hair, smiles, and it’s not right, and it’s not the same. Sam closes his eyes and draws Dean in anyway. He’s not here, but he can fake it, for the brother he’s lost--the bloody history that made him Sam’s--for the hope that maybe one day he’ll be here again, pained and grim and inextricable from the blood and meat that’s made up Sam’s life. Dean pulls back after a while, sweet and hopeful. Unfamiliar. Sam smiles at him, and kisses Dean dishonest.

[lovedsammy]

show me hope again; jack hurt/comfort [commission for wickedwithwings]

This was a commission for @wickedwithwings. The request was for a jack hurt/comfort with Sam & Jack and/or Sam, Jack & Cas, so I tried to do all of those. The premise was Jack gets sent back to Earth from the Empty, Chuck senses it and captures Jack, convincing him that no one wants Jack back and he isn’t loved anymore. Sam and Cas find him, and convince him otherwise.

If we’re going off somewhat canon events, this could take place after 15.08, lol. 

--------

Jack remembers dying.

He remembers being blinded -- literally and figuratively -- by pain, screaming so loudly that even in death, he could feel the rawness of his throat. And then there’d been nothing, almost like he’d fallen into an endless, dreamless sleep. Every single concept of existence ceased to be. The process of death was simple. Like a candle, the flame of life burned for only a short period. And then it was snuffed out, sometimes before the wick even burned dry. Death had no regard for time or how long someone’s flame should burn. It just took. Awareness comes back to him almost instantly, or what he thinks is instantly. He opens his eyes anew, his vision intact once more, and he finds that he’s engulfed in blackness, in pure nothing. He’s in the Empty, he realizes with a start. This was the place where creatures like him, with no humanity or a soul, went when they died. This was where Castiel had been, before Jack had awoken him. 

He glimpses a figure emerging from the shadows, and the boy sits up, squinting. He somehow recognizes it, the entity; it’s the host for the Empty. Jack feels his body, or what he perceives as his body, tensing up, and suddenly wishes he’d never awoken at all. He stares up at the faceless being with trepidation, waiting, for what he knows will be unimaginable torture. He’d defied it, and so had Cas, back in Heaven. There was no way it was going to let him remain awake without some kind of revenge. But The Empty just stands before him, using a finger to draw a smile on its nonexistent features. It calms Jack, although he knows it shouldn’t. 

But maybe… maybe there was a chance that it meant him no harm. Cas’s deal -- was it considered null now, with his death? Cas, who had offered himself up for Jack instead, for Jack’s life to be spared, only for it to be taken by God. What did that amount to now?

“What’s happening?” Jack asks, not really expecting an answer, but to his surprise, he gets one. 

“Yeah, about that,” A cool voice sounds from behind him, and he turns confused eyes onto a woman, dressed all in black with a large scythe in her hand. Billie. Death herself. He knew of her from Sam and Dean, knew that she had power in the Empty, which was probably how he was awake now. But why? Why was he awake? “We should talk,” Billie says, and Jack can only stare at her numbly. 

“Talk about… about what?”

Billie regards him carefully. “Fortunately for you, your story is not over yet, young Nephilim. God may have prematurely sent you here, but I have the power to send you back.” She approaches, and kneels down in front of him. Jack’s apprehension fades when she smiles at him. It’s not exactly a friendly smile, but it’s warm enough that it lowers all of his barriers. He has nothing to fear from her. “I have a job for you. A job that only you can do. How would you like to save the world that your Grandfather has so desperately doomed?”

At Jack’s perplexed expression, she raises two fingers and presses them against the boy’s forehead. And Jack sees. He sees himself, writhing on the ground with light streaming from his eyes as they’re burned out of his skull. He sees Cas trying and failing to heal the damage. He sees Sam, gun in hand, yelling at Chuck. He sees Sam pulls the trigger, the bullet becoming a double-edged sword that lodges into both Sam and Chuck’s shoulders, creating mirroring wounds. He sees the scope of Chuck’s anger, feels his wrath, and watches as their almighty creator ushers in what he calls, ‘the end.’ He sees the released souls from Hell inhabit the bodies of the dead, watches his fathers as they try to fight them off. He watches the planet die, little by little. He sees the end of everything.

Billie pulls back at Jack’s fearful shout, watching the boy expectantly. Once he gets a hold of himself, Jack looks at her, really looks at her. She looks sad, he thinks. She doesn’t like what God has done. It went against Death’s very rule. What was happening now… wasn’t how things were supposed to be.  

And Jack knows, suddenly, what he has to do. He nods. 

“I want to save it. I want to save them.”

Sam, Cas, and even Dean… they were everything to him. He couldn’t bear to see them suffer. 

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Billie says. Jack thinks he sees fondness in her expression. “Good luck. Tell the Winchesters I’ll be seeing them soon.”

It feels like a warning, as much as it is a message. Before Jack can ask her what she means, fingers meet his forehead again, and everything goes black.

-

Jack breathes his first third gasp of life -- how many times would he experience that? Dying, just to be born again? -- and his eyes snap open again. It’s a cloudless day, is the first thing he notices. He’s staring up at a blue sky. Then his other senses kick in. His nostrils fill with the strong scent of earth., and he inhales it in, the smell making his nose itch, but not minding it. Allergies be damned. He lets himself absorb the feeling of the grass beneath him, damp from the morning mildew. He listens to the sounds, the rustling of the leaves and the rush of water from the river. He enjoys the gentle breeze wind swiping his hair. The sun is warm on his face. He loves this world, this amazing world that he never was supposed to be a part of in the first place, but had been born into. He loves humanity, with and without its flaws. He loves Sam, and Dean, and Castiel. 

His family. 

His family, that had included Mary, too. 

His heart gives a painful clench when he thinks of her, and it feels different than the last time he was alive, when he’d had no soul. Had Billie somehow restored it? Or had he managed to live with it, as Cas had told him he would, and learned to love even without it? He didn’t know. It didn’t matter now, not really. The state of his soul was the least of his concerns.  

Jack carefully rises to his feet, assessing himself. He’s wearing the same clothes that he’d died in. One of the laces of his shoes is untied. His jacket and jeans have grass stains. He reaches up to touch his face and feels unblemished skin. Satisfied, he looks at his surroundings. He’s in the middle of a field in an area that he doesn’t recognize. He hopes he’s somewhere in Lebanon. Billie wouldn’t have sent him back too far from home, would she? Jack reaches down to tie his shoes, and sets off. The first order of business was to find out where he’d ended up. And then he’d go find his family. 

If they even want you back after what you did, his mind reminds him, and he swallows down that anxiety. Dean hadn’t gone through with killing him. Sam and tried to stop him, and had even shot God to try and save him. And Cas…. Cas had loved him unconditionally, no matter what. Of course they’d want him back. 

“Yeah, I don’t know about that,” A voice remarks, and it’s one that he’s regrettably burned into his memory. Jack jumps, turning wild-eyed and afraid to find Chuck -- God -- leaning against a tree, hands in his pockets as he watches the Nephilim with a smirk. Was this some sick joke? Had he come back just to die again? “Oh, don’t worry, I’m not going to kill you. Again. Not yet,” Chuck says, slowly approaching the boy. Despite himself, Jack backs up. “You’re too weak to fight me right now, and I could always use you as some incentive against the Winchesters and Castiel. You could be helpful to me. Well, your powers, anyway.” 

“I’ll never help you,” Jack snarls. He tries to reach inward, to try and sense his powers. They’re there, but it’s as Chuck said -- they’re drained. It would take time to power back up. Right now, he’s practically as useless as he was when he was human. Jack bites his lip, unsure of what to do. He could fight in the way that Bobby trained him to, all raised fists and well-aimed kicks. But his puny human body wouldn’t stand a chance against God himself. Still, he has to do something. As Chuck continues toward him, he wrestles with his fight or flight response. Flight wins out, and he makes a beeline for the trees.

Chuck sighs, loud and exasperated. “Jack. Really? Come on. I created everything. There’s nowhere that you can go that I’ll never be able to find you. All you’re doing is prolonging things. You’re just going to wear yourself out.”

Jack ignores him, running as fast as he can towards the highway. Maybe he could hitchhike. Sam always said that was dangerous, but if it got him home, to them, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. He needed to get away from Chuck. Chuck, who he can still hear as loud as if he were directly next to him, despite the distance that there should be between them. 

“I mean, are Sam and Dean going to even want to see you? You killed their Mom.” 

He knows that Chuck is just goading him, trying to break him down. And Jack, unfortunately, rises to the bait. “You made me!” He snaps. “The voice, the sound I heard that day, when Mary was talking to me! That was you!” 

“Yeah, but it was your hands that killed her, Jack. Your powers. It was still you, too, even if I was guiding your hand. Not that it matters anymore, though. What happened to Mary Winchester is over. Her sons and their angel are the only ones who matter now. Well, and you. Especially you.” 

Jack’s lungs wheeze from how fast he’s running, but he can’t slow down. He’s close, so very close to the highway, thinks he can even see it now, and recognizes it as he edges closer. He’s been on this highway countless times before, had driven down it with Dean. He was only about ten minutes from the Bunker.

If only he could -- 

There’s a stab of pain as he trips over something, and Jack shouts as he tries to catch himself, falling on his hands. He groans, and forces himself to sit up. There’s a hole in his jeans at the bottom of the pants leg, and a steady flow of blood from where the jagged piece of rock had cut into him. It doesn’t look that deep, but it would slow him down.  

Jack whimpers as he tries to get up and fails, vision swimming, feeling every bit like the helpless kid he is. “Cas,” He calls out. He doesn’t know if his angel father can hear him. “Castiel…. Sam, please.”

He can’t move. All he can do is lie there and hope and pray that someone, somewhere, can help him. That Cas can hear him, that Sam will --

“Ohhh… kid, that looks like it hurts.” 

Jack raises his head to see Chuck leaning over him. “Hello again, Grandson. It’s about time we actually spent some quality time together, don’t you think?” 

-

The days are long and miserable. 

Honestly, Jack begins to consider that being dead may be less of a torture than this. Chuck doesn’t even have to hurt him physically. It’s the mental pain that God inflicts the most, and enjoys. He makes Jack remember Mary’s death, over and over. The countless other people that Jack’s hurt or killed since he was born. He makes Jack remember his mom. 

Chuck shows him things, too. 

Sam and Dean, locking him in the Malach box. Dean, with his gun trained on him, ready to execute him. Both of them, calling Jack a monster. Castiel, agreeing, turning away when Jack begs him for help while the brothers torture him. 

Jack knows it’s not real. God is like Michael in how he tortures him. It hadn’t been real, then, either. But this time, God has Jack’s insecurities and regrets to use against him, his doubts and fears. And he uses them. He breaks Jack over and over until the boy cries and begs to die. And then, eventually, Jack stops crying. He becomes numb, feeling almost hollow. Not soulless -- he’s quite certain that he’s not soulless anymore, if he’d honestly ever been -- but hollow in the way that only pure torture can make you. 

Jack had seen it in Sam, when Sam was around Lucifer. He’s only now really understanding the depths of the fear Sam had toward his father, and why. Jack wishes he could tell Sam he understands, and that he’s sorry.

In the beginning, when Jack’s resolve was still stronger, he’d fought against Chuck’s mind games as much as he could. Chuck would play a game where he’d ask Jack where he’d go if he ever got free. Jack would tell him. And when Chuck would say that Jack didn’t belong somewhere, Jack had another answer lined up. 

And on and on it went, until there were no answers left. 

“Sam and Dean won’t want you, Jack. You killed their Mom.” 

“Cas --”

“If Cas cared, he’d be here. He can hear you pray, remember? He just isn’t listening.” 

“Heaven.” 

“You think anyone would let you upstairs? Come on, kid. Yeah, you made new angels, but I’m back. You think for a second they’d take you over me if I told them not to?” 

“Hell, then.” 

“The demons? They want Lucifer, they wouldn’t want you. Even if you’re his son, they know your affiliation with the Winchesters. Why would they want the boy who rejected his father and chose humans? Face it, there’s no one out there waiting for you, Jack. I’m all you’ve got.”

After a while, he’d started to believe it.

“Why don’t you just kill me?” He asks Chuck one day when the man comes down to visit him in his cage from whatever establishment he has upstairs. A bar or something, Jack recalls Chuck telling him once. Even God needed breaks.

Chuck just laughs around his glass of tequila. “Where’s the fun in that? Billie would just keep sending you back, and then we’d have to start all over. At least this way I know you’re not going anywhere. You’re contained, and no one’s the wiser.”

But it makes Jack realize the true reason why he’s doing this. Chuck is afraid of him. He’s afraid of Jack’s powers. And Jack could tell that Chuck was getting weaker by the day, while he was growing stronger. Contained, but stronger. His power was on par with that of God. The thought makes him nauseous instead of confident. Because if God could do what he’d done to the world, then what damage could Jack do?

I wouldn’t, he tells himself. I wouldn’t do what he’s done.

He’s unsure if he believes it.

He falls asleep at night dreaming of Sam, of his kind smile and gentle hands. 

He prays to Castiel every day.

And every day, he thinks he breaks a little more. Because Chuck was right. If Castiel or Sam or even Dean… if any of them truly cared, they would’ve been here by now. Cas would have answered his prayers. Which meant that he didn’t want to hear him. And Sam…. Sam would never come find him, not after what he’d done, not after he’d taken Sam’s mother from him. Sam, who never got to really know his mom, who had lost her as a baby like he’d had his. 

Sam had more reason to hate him than anyone. 

Jack curls in on himself, and falls into a restless slumber.

Even if he got out, Chuck was right. There was no one and nothing to go back to. 

He wasn’t wanted anywhere. 

-

With his powers failing, it takes Castiel a little while to pinpoint the source of the cry being directed to him for well over a month. And when he does, it hits him like a freight train. He and Sam are researching in the Bunker when Cas feels it again, stronger than before. It’s like knives in his head, the intensity of the misery, and Cas gives a pained shout, grimacing. 

“Cas?” Sam asks worriedly, the books forgotten. “You all right? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Jack,” Cas answers after a beat. “Sam… Jack’s alive.” 

The hope that enters Sam’s eyes is something that Castiel never wants to see taken from him again. It’d happened far too much already. 

“What?” Sam asks, breathless. “Are you sure? Cas…” 

“He’s calling for help,” Cas confirms, getting to his feet. He’s able to hone in on Jack’s presence now, can feel his state of being. “He’s been crying out for me, for us. He’s showing me… Chuck. Chuck has him. There’s enochian sigils and other forms of warding on the cage he’s in, I… he needs help.” 

Sam leaps to his feet without hesitation. He hasn’t looked this alive in months. “Then let’s go get him, Cas. Let’s get him and bring him home.” 

--

Jack is awoken, at some point, by a commotion upstairs. He opens an eye, squinting, focusing. Chuck usually had his fair share of parties and things happening -- it was a bar, after all. He listens for the familiar shriek of girls, the game machines blaring, the loud music… but none of it ever comes. It’s silent except for loud thudding, and hushed voices. This isn’t Chuck. Something’s different.  

“Hello?” He calls out, heart pounding in his throat. “Is someone there?” He moves around a little, managing what he can in his little cage. It clunks every time he remanuvers.

He waits. 

More talking. 

“Hello?” He repeats, trying to make his voice louder. 

He tries to see up the stairs to where the light from the room is coming from behind the door, but from the angle he’s at, he can’t see who it is. He’s still too far away. Luckily, whoever it was up there seemed to know there was someone downstairs, and open the door, hurriedly descending the staircase, flashlight in hand. Cops, then. 

Jack doesn’t understand why they’re here, of all places. From what he knew, there wasn’t any illegal activity taking place. Chuck would want to keep the establishment under the authorities’ radar, lest the Winchesters discovered it. Jack had honestly thought there was no chance of rescue, that no one at all would be coming for him. Maybe they still weren’t, but the possibility of freedom has Jack reworking things. He would take anything. 

He didn’t know where he would go, or who could possibly ever want him. But he’d give anything to be out of this cage, and out of Chuck’s grasp. Anything for the days of torture to be over. 

“Hello?” A voice calls. “Is someone down here?” 

Jack knows that voice. He knows it, because it’s the first voice he’d ever heard. 

“Sam?” He croaks, mouth dry. Was he just imagining things? Was this just another of Chuck’s mind games, making him see what he so desperately craved? But then Sam is standing in front of him. Even with the limited light, he can see how pale Sam is, see the absolute shock on his face. 

“Jack?” Sam gasps. “Jack, you’re alive, you’re…. Oh my God. Cas! Cas, get down here! I’ve got him!” 

Sam pushes himself down to his knees, and reaches out to the boy immediately, still locked in the cage. He engulfs Jack’s small hand with his much larger one. The sensation of the touch takes Jack aback, and he shakes his head. Was this really happening?

 “I don’t believe it,” Sam says wetly. “You’re really here… I need to get you…” Sam looks around for something he can use to pry the cage open. He settles for a crowbar, prying and shoving at the lock. It comes undone after a long moment, and Sam wrenches the door open, pulling Jack out and into his arms. He cradles the boy close to him, his large frame trembling.

He is soft and warm in the way that Jack remembers, and not even his dreams had been able to replicate the safe feeling he associated with the man.  

“Sam,” Jack realizes. This isn’t a trick, isn’t some form of distorted reality that Chuck had cooked up. This was real. Choking, tears running down his face, Jack clings to Sam with everything he has. He lets himself relax for the first time in weeks against Sam’s body. Sam was here. Sam was really here, and he was free, and…

“Sam --” 

Cas.

Jack and Sam pull apart at his arrival, and Jack raises his head to meet Castiel’s eyes. “Cas,” He sniffles.

“Jack…” 

The angel looks thunderstruck, like he’s seconds away from falling over. Instead, he surges forward and envelops both Sam and Jack to him in a tight embrace. His fingers card through Jack’s hair, and the boy closes his eyes in pure relief. Somehow, he was still wanted. He was still loved. His fathers had come for him. Chuck had been wrong.

“It’s all right now, Jack,” Cas says. “You’re safe. We’re going to take you home.” 

But Jack shakes his head. “I can’t. Dean. He’s going to kill me, he's ...”

“No, he isn’t going to kill you, Jack,” Sam promises, hugging the boy close. “He’s missed you, too. I won’t let anything happen to you ever again. Neither will Cas. None of us will. I promise. I know this is late, but… I love you too, Jack. I love you so much, and I’m so sorry I failed you.” 

“I’m sorry, too,” Jack cries, his tears coating Sam’s neck. “I’m sorry about Mary. I’m sorry for all of it.”

Sam and Cas shush him, whispering nothing but comfort and assurance, holding him close. 

They stay huddled on the floor for a long, long time.

[waywardaardvark79]

No Strings Attached Part 8: Me Too

Summary: Your roommates old friend moves to town and the two of you quickly strike up a no strings attached relationship. How long will the two of you be able to hold up what was supposed to be a simple, uncomplicated arrangement?

Pairing: Dean X Reader

Warnings: language, smut

A/N: Updates should be every few days. No set schedule.

        "Nuh uh." Dean hummed out as he wrapped his arms and legs around you,  thwarting your plan to get out of bed.

 "You gotta let me up." you said, even though you would much rather stay in bed with him.

 "Nope. We got plenty of time before we have to get up and get ready, and you aren't getting out of this bed." he said, his hold tightening on you.

 "As tempting as that is Freckles, I have to go have brunch with your mom and Jess." you said.

 "Brunch? What the fuck is brunch?" he asked, one eyebrow quirked.

 "A socially acceptable reason for me to have champagne before noon." you said, causing him to chuckle.

 "When have you ever needed a socially acceptable reason to do anything?" he asked, a smile on his face.

 "Normally, I wouldn't, but I'm the respectable girlfriend this weekend, remember." you said before pecking a kiss to his lips. "Now, let me up so I can go shower." you said, Dean's grip not loosening.

 "You want some company?" he asked.

 "Another very tempting offer, but I don't have much time. Someone wouldn't let me out of bed on time." you replied.

 "Well, then we better shower together. You know, to save time." he said.

 "I don't quite think that applies here." you responded.

 "Well, I do." he said.

 "Dean." you warned.

 "What? It'll be fun, a little sneakin' around." he said as he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

 "You did hear me say I was supposed to be the respectable girlfriend." you shot back

. "I respect you. I respect the hell out of you." he said.

 "What if someone hears us?" you asked, starting to consider his offer.

 "We'll be quiet." he said with a shrug of his shoulders. 

You looked over at him, weighing the pros and cons in your head, Dean seeming to understand what was running through your mind as he looked at you with pleading eyes and stuck out his lower lip in a sad pout. "Jesus Christ. How the fuck am I supposed to say no when you look at me like that? Let's go." you huffed out, Dean smiling ear to ear when he realized he won the battle.

 He released his grip on you and you untangled your legs from his before climbing over him and getting out of bed, Dean quickly scrambling to his feet behind you. "Make sure the coast is clear." you said, motioning for him to look out the door.

 Dean cracked the door open and stuck his head out, looking in both directions down the hall before turning to you and nodding his head that it was clear. You grabbed the pillows from the bed and pulled the covers up over them, arranging them to look like someone was laying in bed. "What are you doing?" Dean asked.

 "This way it looks like one of us is still in here sleeping if someone peeks in." you explained, finding your idea completely logical.

 Dean chuckled, "You do realize we are adults, right?" he asked

. "Respectable fake girlfriends don't bang their fake boyfriends in the shower of his parent's house...at least not on the first visit." you argued. You walked over to him and smacked him firmly on the ass, "Get a move on, Freckles. We're on the clock." you said.

 "Yes, ma'am." he said before opening the door and dashing across the hall to the bathroom.

           You waited a couple of minutes before poking your head out of the bedroom door, checking both directions to make sure it was clear, before darting across the hall into the bathroom, quickly closing and locking the door behind you.

 "Thought we were on the clock." Dean said from behind you as he grabbed the bottom of your shirt and pulled it over your head.

 You spun around to find him already naked, "Someone's eager." you said with a smirk.

 Dean pressed his lips to yours in a surprisingly gentle kiss, "I'm always eager for you." he said as he slipped your panties down your legs. 

You rolled your eyes, "You're such a fuckin' nerd." you said as you stepped around him and headed for the shower, Dean already having it running when you walked in. 

You stepped into the shower, leaning your head back into the stream of hot water, running your hands over your body causing a low moan of approval to sound from low in Dean's throat when he stepped inside. You stepped towards him, your hands bracing flat on his chest as you raised yourself up on your tip toes to give his lips a gentle peck. 

You pulled back, raising your fingers to your lips to signal him to be quiet. You pressed your lips to his chest, placing a few wet kisses along it before working your way to his nipple and flicking your tongue over it, smiling against his skin when you heard him suck in a quick breath.

 You trailed kisses down his stomach as you slowly eased yourself to your knees, giving each of his hips bones a gentle nip before turning your attention to his cock. You teasingly traced one finger along the underside of it before grasping it at the base, giving the head a teasing lick before raising it enough to give you access to his balls. You started to pump your hand up and down, your tongue licking a few teasing strips before sucking one of his balls into your mouth and massaging it with your tongue, a low groan coming from Dean's chest as he tossed his head back. 

You released him, your tongue going to the underside of his cock, licking along the vein as you worked your way up his shaft before taking just the tip into your mouth and swirling your tongue around it. You felt Dean's fingers tangle in your hair and you quickly relinquished control over to him, your hand coming up to fondle his balls as he moved you back and forth on his cock. Saliva was dripping down your chin, and your eyes were watering as he repeatedly fucked into your mouth, reaching the back of your throat with each thrust causing you to moan around him.

 You looked up at him through your lashes as a loud knock sounded through the bathroom, Dean immediately stilling himself. "Dean!" you heard John call out as you looked up at him, your lips still wrapped around his cock.

 "Yeah!" Dean yelled back, looking down at you. You kept eye contact with him, shot him a quick wink and started to slowly work your way up and down his cock.

 "Is Y/N up yet?" John asked. 

You increased your pace, "N-N-No, she's s-s-still asleep." Dean choked out.

 "Well, your mom is almost ready to go." John said. 

You took him all the way into your mouth, your nose pressed against him as you swallowed around his cock. Dean let out a low moan, his eyes rolling back into his head, "Dean! Did you hear me?" John asked, pulling Dean's focus back to him.

. "Y-Yeah, I'll, uh, I'll be out in a m-minute." he said, trying to make his voice sound as normal as he could. You slowly pulled back, and released him with a wet pop, Dean's chest heaving as he stared down at you. He quickly pulled you to your feet, "That wasn't very respectable behavior." he rasped out.

 You smirked at him, "I don't see what the problem is. I was very quiet." you said, Dean quickly pushing you up against the wall.

 "Let's see how quiet you can be now." he said before picking you up and wrapping your legs around his waist, sinking into you in one quick motion. You gasped, Dean's hand quickly coming to your mouth and clamping over it, "Quiet, baby girl." he warned. 

You narrowed your eyes at him as he slowly pulled himself from you and quickly thrust back in causing your eyes to roll back into your head. Dean set a quick pace, knowing that you didn't have much time before you absolutely had to get ready. You worked your hand between your bodies, rubbing quick circles against your clit as Dean pounded into you. His hand was still clamped over your mouth, stifling the moans he was pulling from you, your head thrown back against the wall as Dean picked up his pace, your fingers quickly matching it until you felt yourself dive over the edge.

 You were breathing heavily through your nose, Dean's hand still in place as he chased his end. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and let out a loud grunt, his hips slowing until the finally stopped entirely. He dropped his hand from your mouth, and pressed his lips to yours.

 "I thought we were supposed to be quiet." you teased as he pulled himself from you and lowered you back down. You cleaned up as fast as you could before stepping out and toweling off. You unlocked the bathroom door and eased it open, poking your head out to make sure no one was there before rushing across the hall into the bedroom.

         Dean walked in a few moments later, a towel wrapped around his waist, filling your mind with inappropriate thoughts, you couldn't seem to get enough of him. You pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater. "Does this look brunchy to you?" you asked Dean as you looked down at your outfit

. "Sure. he said with a shrug of his shoulders. 

You pulled on a pair of boots before running back across the hall and attempting to do your hair and make up as quick as you could. Dean leaned himself against the door frame, your bag in his hand,  as you added the finishing touches. "Do I look ok?" you asked. 

Dean gave you a soft smile, "You look great." he said before holding your bag out to you.

 "Thanks. I better get going." you said as you tossed your bag over your shoulder and started for the stairs, Dean quickly falling into step with you.

 "There you are!" Mary said as the two of you walked into the kitchen.

 "I'm so sorry. This one forgot to wake me up this morning, and I overslept." you lied, a small smile gracing Dean's face because he knew the truth.

 "Well, the girls are already there, so I'm ready whenever you are." she said. 

"Girls?" you asked, thinking that only Jess, Sam's fiance, was meeting you there.

 Mary quickly looked over to Dean before focusing back on you, "Jess and Lisa. She's a friend of hers." she said as she grabbed her keys, Dean's hand reaching out and grabbing your arm.

  You nodded your head, familiar with the second name. "I'll be right out." you said with a smile. You watched her walk from the kitchen before turning to Dean, "Don't worry. Everything will be fine." you said, knowing that he was concerned about you meeting her.

 "I'll come with you if you want me too." he offered. 

You quickly waved him off, "Dean, I can handle your ex. I don't need a babysitter." you said.

 Dean slowly nodded his head, "That's what I'm worried about. She is probably gonna make some bitchy comment to you, and I really don't want to have to bail you out of jail before the wedding." he teased. 

You rolled your eyes, "I'll be on my best behavior. No assault charges will be filed today, I promise." you replied.

 Dean loosened his grip on you, "Just don't listen to anything she says, ok." he said. 

You gave him a quick kiss, "Don't worry, Freckles. Everything will be fine. Now, I gotta go. See ya when I get back." you said before quickly walking out of the room to join Mary.

         The two of you pulled up in front of a nice restaurant causing you to feel a little out of place. Your idea of dining out was the local burger joint or the food truck. Mary must have noticed that you looked nervous because she smiled over at you, "I always feel out of place here too." she said, easing your nerves a little. "I'm sure we won't be here long. I know there is still a lot of things Jess has to do." she said before opening her door and getting out.

 You took a deep breath, "Be nice." you whispered to yourself before opening the door and getting out. You followed Mary to the door and walked inside. You watched as she searched the room, smiling when her eyes landed on Jess. "This way." she said to you as she led you to a table, a pretty blonde girl smiling brightly at her. A dark haired woman sat across from her, and even though you had never met her, you guessed that it had to be the infamous Lisa. Jess pulled Mary into a hug when the two of you reached the table, and basically pushed her down into the chair next to her, leaving you to sit next to Lisa. "Jess, Lisa, this is Y/N." Mary said as she introduced you to them. 

Jess smiled brightly at you, "You're Dean's girlfriend?" she asked

. "I am." you said. "It's so nice to meet you. Sam says he talks about you constantly." she said.

 "It's nice to meet you too." you replied with a smile. Lisa looked over at you and looked you up and down, not saying anything. "It's nice to meet you too, Lisa." you said, forcing yourself to be the bigger person. She forced a smile and nodded in your direction, Jess busy talking Mary's ear off, as you grabbed a menu from the table and focused your attention on it. "Can I get you ladies anything to drink?" the waiter asked as he came up to the table. "I'll take a mimosa." you blurted out, desperate for a drink after only being at the table for a few minutes. Lisa scoffed next to you causing you to turn and look at her. You smiled sweetly at her, "Did you want one too?" you asked.

 "I make it a habit not to drink so early in the day." she said

. "More for me then." you said with a smile before turning back to the menu. The waiter returned with your drinks a few moments later, and took down everyone's food order before leaving. "So, Y/N, what do you do?" Jess asked. 

You raised your glass to your lips and took a sip, "I'm a bartender. What about you?" you asked.

 "I'm a nurse." she said with a sweet smile.

 "So, a bartender. Is that where you met Dean?" Lisa asked, a snotty tone to her voice causing Jess to glare at her over the table.

 "No, I met him through my roommate, Charlie. She is an old friend of his." you said, trying not to let her get to you. You asked Jess a few questions about her and Sam, and she told you about how they met, and how he asked her to marry him

. "I love that story. Sam is so sweet. You don't know how lucky you are to have someone like him. I mean, he's sweet, smart, good looking, and driven, just look at his career." Lisa said. You could feel yourself getting angry, but you tried to remain calm. The waiter returned and placed everyone's food in front of them. "I mean, if only Dean had that kind of work ethic, we might still be together, but he was just happy where he was. He never wanted to strive for more." she finished.

 You glanced up at Mary and could tell that she was annoyed, but she kept her mouth shut. "I just wish he would have been more like Sam." Lisa said. You let your fork clink down on your plate, "And what is it that you do, Lisa?" you asked. 

"I'm a yoga teacher. I help people stay healthy and better themselves." she proudly said.

 "Hmmm." you hummed out before taking a sip of your drink, signaling to the waiter to bring you another. "You help people." you said. 

"Yeah, it's a really important part of the job." she said.

 "Dean helps people everyday. Last week a single mom came into the shop because her car was acting up. It turned out to be a pretty pricey fix, and she was going to leave because she didn't have the money to do it. Dean told her to come back after they closed, and he fixed it free of charge. He even paid for the parts out of his own pocket. Dean is one of the smartest, kindest, most amazing  people I have ever met and you would have been lucky to end up with him. I guess, I need to thank you for being such a stuck up, greedy bitch though, because your loss was my gain." you said with a sweet smile, Lisa staring over at you in complete shock

. The waiter handed you your drink and you thanked him before taking a sip and setting it down on the table. "You know, suddenly I don't really have much of an appetite. I think I'm going to step outside for some fresh air. Jess, it was really lovely to meet you and I am so happy for you and Sam. Mary take your time. I'm in no rush." you said, as you stood from the table.

 You hoisted your bag onto your shoulder, "accidentally" knocking your mimosa over into Lisa's lap. You placed your hand on your forehead, "Well, would you look at that. I am so clumsy. Maybe I should take a yoga class and work on my balance." you said as you looked down at Lisa. "Anyway, nice meeting you." you said as you waggled your fingers at her before pushing in your chair and walking outside.  

        You were leaning against the passenger door of Mary's car when you saw the three of them walk out the door. Jess pulled Mary into a hug and they talked for a moment before Jess grabbed Lisa by the arm and headed off down the sidewalk. 

You watched as Mary walked to you, suddenly feeling a little ashamed by your outburst since you were supposed to be putting on a sweet, respectable front. As she got closer you looked up at her, "I'm really sorry about what happened in there. I shouldn't have done that. I'll apologize to her later." you rambled out, lowering your eyes to the pavement.

 Mary put her hand on your arm, "Honey, you don't have to apologize to her. She got exactly what she deserved. Honestly, it was a little less than she deserved." Mary said with a smile.

 You released a deep breath, "Oh, thank God. I was so worried I had screwed everything up." you blurted out.

 "Dean is really have lucky to have someone that cares about him the way you do. He hasn't always had the best luck in that department. You're really good for him, Y/N. I don't think I have ever seen him so happy." she said. 

You smiled at her, her words warming your heart and making you feel guilty at the same time. "I'm the lucky one." you said.

 "Let's get out of here." she said before walking around to the driver's side of the car and getting in. You followed after her, quickly sliding into the passenger seat, making small talk with her on the way home, her words from the parking lot repeating over in your head.

       Mary pulled into the drive and you got out and walked inside. John and Dean were sitting on the couch watching television when you walked in. You smiled at both of them and excused yourself upstairs.

 You were sitting on the edge of the bed pulling off your boots when Dean walked into the room and closed the door behind him. "How was brunch?" he asked. 

You shrugged, "Good." you said.

 "Good, huh?" he asked.

 "Yep." you said, popping the p.

 "Lisa didn't give you any problems?" he asked.

 "Nope." you replied.

 "Y/N." Dean said. 

You looked up at him, "She didn't. It was good, Dean. We ate. I had a couple mimosa's. Just a nice quiet brunch." you said.

 "Jess called Sam and told him everything, and then Sam called me to relay a message to you. She wanted me to apologize to you and say that you have nothing to worry about. Want to explain that?" he asked.

 You sighed and flung yourself back onto the bed, "Lisa may have said some things that I didn't like, and then I may have called her a greedy, stuck up bitch, and accidentally spilled a drink in her lap." you said, closing your eyes and preparing yourself for Dean to be upset with you.

 The sound of Dean's laughter caused you to raise your head and look at him, "You shouldn't have let her get to you. She was probably just saying stuff about you because she was jealous." Dean said.

 You laid back down, "She wasn't talking about me. She could have said whatever she wanted to about me, and I wouldn't have cared. She was talking about you, and it pissed me off." you said. You felt the bed dip as Dean sat next to you. You looked up at him, "I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have done it, but I just couldn't help myself. At least I didn't hit her. I promised you no assault charges would be filed today, and I kept my word." you said, Dean smiling down at you.

 He pressed a kiss to your forehead, "Thanks for sticking up for me." he said. 

"Oh, come on, you know I got your back, Freckles." you said.

            You spent the rest of the day hanging out with Dean and his parent's, getting to know them better before you had to get ready for the ceremony. You let Dean drive your car to the church, and sat next to Mary and John during the ceremony.

 Everyone was turned in their seats, watching as Jess walked into the room and down the aisle. You were the only one not looking back, your eyes were on Dean, and his were on you. He flashed you a bright smile and a wink before everyone turned around and the ceremony began.

 You tried to keep your focus on Sam and Jess and the preacher as he talked and they recited their vows to each other, but your eyes kept drifting over to Dean, and every time they did, he was looking directly at you.

 The two of you were so caught up in each other that you missed the preacher announce that Sam could kiss his bride, and the two of you jumped when everyone started to applaud. You quickly brought your hands in front of you and joined in applauding for the newly married couple as they walked down the aisle hand in hand.

 People started to file out of the church after them, headed to the reception that was being held in a hotel across town. You followed Mary and John out of the church, and told them that you and Dean would be right behind them.

 You walked to your car and waited on Dean, who was currently in the middle of the crowd of wedding guests. He finally made his way out of the crowd, and over to you, smiling when he saw you waiting for him. "So, how did I do?" he jokingly asked.

 "Oh, you were the star of the show for sure. All eyes were on you." you said, a smile on your face. The two of you waited for everyone to clear out of the parking lot before heading to the reception.

               You arrived at the reception just as everyone was getting seated for the meal. You took your place at the table with Mary and John. A waiter brought your food out not long after you were seated.

 You watched as Dean looked down at the green beans on his plate with disgust. You shook your head, grabbed his plate and scooped them onto yours, and then gave him a little of your potatoes to go in place of them. "Better?" you asked.

 "So much better." he said with a smile before shoveling some of the potatoes into his mouth. Mary and John watched the two of you with smiles on their faces, happy that their son had finally found someone that made him so happy. 

You got through the meal, and listened as people got up and gave the newly married couple a toast. "My turn." Dean whispered to you before standing up and heading to the mic. "I'm not one for big emotional speeches." he started, everyone in the room chuckling before quieting down. "Sammy, Jess, I just want to say that I am really happy for you guys, and I know that the two of you are going to have a long and happy life together. It's rare to find someone that you can consider a best friend and a partner, someone that you can completely be yourself around without worrying about judgement or trying to be something you're not. It's rare to find someone that you can't wait to spend the day with, and even if the two of you are doing something as simple as running errands it's still the best part of your day because you are with them. It's rare to find someone that you can't possibly imagine not sleeping next to, and you wonder how you ever considered yourself whole without them because they complete something in you that you didn't even know was missing. It's rare to find that one person in the world that makes you want to be a better person, and when you do you better hold on tight because it's a once in a lifetime kind of thing. I think the two of you fit the bill. So, congratulations you two." Dean said as he raised his glass to them, everyone including yourself a little teary eyed at his words.

 You joined in with everyone as they applauded him, Dean waving everyone off as he made his way back to his seat. You turned to him, "I didn't know you had that in you, Freckles. That was...that was beautiful. I mean, it legit sounded like it could have come right out of a movie. How long did it take you to write that?" you asked.

 Dean shrugged, "I actually had a whole different speech ready, but when I got up there I just kind of said what came to mind when I thought about what you should look for in the person you end up with. Why? Was it too cheesy?" he asked. 

You shook your head, your hand squeezing his forearm, "No, it was kind of perfect." you said, a soft smile on your face.

            People were making their way to the dance floor, and Dean went to the bar to grab the two of you some drinks. The two of you spent the rest of the night sitting at the table talking, drinking, and laughing at the people on the dance floor. The night was winding down, "You sure you don't want to dance?" Dean asked you.

 You patted his hand, "We don't have to. I know you don't dance." you said, echoing the words that Dean said earlier in the night when one of his family members asked him why the two of you weren't out there.

 "You want another drink?" he asked.

 You picked up your glass and finished it off, "One more couldn't hurt." you said as you handed it over

. "Be right back." he said as he took your glass and stood from the table.

 You focused your attention on the couples on the dance floor, the song that was playing was slowly fading out. You listened as the DJ spoke into the microphone, "Alright guys, this one is going out to a very special girl." he said, the familiar sound of a piano filled the room and you couldn't help the giant smile that appeared on your face.

 Dean walked up to you and held out his hand just as the song started. You grabbed it, "Tiny Dancer?" you asked, smiling ear to ear.

 "I happen to know this girl who says it's her favorite." he said as he led you to the dance floor and pulled you into his arms.

 "I thought you said you didn't dance." you said as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

 "I find myself doing a lot of things I thought I would never do when it comes to her." he said.

 "Hmm...must be a pretty special girl, then." you said as you looked up at him,  the two of you gently swaying back and forth to the music.

 "You have no idea." he said, a soft smile on his face.

 You placed a gentle kiss to his lips before placing your head on his chest, his arms holding you tightly against him, as you hummed along to the song. Dean started to sing along softly to you, just above a whisper so you were the only one that could hear. "Now she's in me, always with me, Tiny Dancer in my hand. But oh, how it feels so real, lying here, with no one near, only you and you can hear me when I say softly, slowly. Hold me closer, Tiny Dancer." he sang.

 You pulled back, and looked up at him with tears in your eyes before crashing your lips to his, not caring where you were, or that there was a room full of people probably staring at you. You needed to tell him what you couldn't make yourself say out loud. You needed him to feel everything that you felt for him without having to use words. You clung to him with everything you had, pouring every last bit of emotion you could into that kiss. 

The music started to fade out and you pulled back from him, looking into his eyes, searching for some bit of recognition, praying that you got your message across. He looked down at you, a soft smile on his face, "Me too." he whispered.

[stusbunker]

Weddings and Other Holy Deals

For Better or Worst: Chapter One

Featuring: Sam Winchester x Emery Simmons-Winchester (OFC)

Setting: Mid Season 14 AU

Word Count: 1675

Summary: Sam finds an unlikely solution to the Michael problem in Dean’s head. His soon-to-be wife has her own side of the deal with the powers that be.

^*^*^

Jan. 20, 2019

Somewhere beyond the neatly trimmed lawns and the perfectly timed sprinkler systems, over a wide porch with a loveseat swing and past a storm door with etched glass, slept a Winchester. It was not a normal place for this Winchester, Sam for clarity’s sake, to be upon waking. But this wasn’t a usual day, for the hunter or anyone honestly. Though he had lived another day like this one, the excitement and anticipation he felt as he rolled over and saw his clock face shining back at him was unmatched. Today, Sam Winchester was getting married, and if he knew anything it was the best decision he had ever made. That things would only get better after today. Rare is certainty in life, which was why Sam held fast to his and began the life-changing day.

Across town, Bandit woke his bride. Bandit is her dog, soon to be their dog, a Setter mix that loved to herd. Emery Simmons had always been an animal person, but Bandit was a surprise blessing from her former life.  She hadn’t asked to bring him along, though as there wasn’t much she had left, she supposed it was a perk to balance her expectations. She roamed through the short-term rental, contemplating the dress that had been left for her as she made herself a cup of tea. Bandit demanded a walk and a bout of catch in the park, which Emery accommodated, unhurried by the little preparations for the small ceremony. They weren’t going to start without her, after all.

Sam had exercised, showered and shaved by ten o’clock. He had another three hours before the service was scheduled, idle hands met a replaced contact list in his phone. He didn’t know any of these people yet, well he knew one. With little else to bide his time, Sam hit the old rotary phone icon below the smirking face.

“Whoa, when did they futz with our phones?” Emery asked, spinning around with Bandit’s leash before tucking her phone beneath her ear.

“Dunno, it’s weird right?” Sam stared at the tux bag hanging in the bedroom. Their bedroom.

“Creeptastic, actually. What’s up?” She sounded worried, maybe she was distracted. Sam was overthinking her tone and almost forgot to answer her.

“I didn’t have anyone else to call?” Sam offered, sitting at the end of the bed, huffing at himself with a sad smile. “Forget it, I’ll let you get back to your, stuff.”

“Hey, I’m just out for a walk, you’re not bothering me. Sam?” His name came out heavy, like she was reminding herself who she was marrying. He didn’t blame her. There was a scuffle on her end of the line before she groaned. “No, Bandit, no!”

Sam’s forehead shot to its full height. “Is that— are you walking a dog?”

“Uh, yesssssss? Is that going to be a problem?” Her sudden defensiveness made him grin, the image of her struggling with a leash warmed Sam from head to toe.

“Not at all, the opposite really. I love dogs.” He understood why she was anxious; they barely knew each other, it was a bit soon for a potential first fight.

“Well, good, shit, had me panicking there for a minute.” The conversation lulled as she reached the porch, each stumbling over small talk before she looked at the clock on the microwave. Sam was starting to pace, but the relief that there would be someone else in the house with them made it seem less scary somehow. They said their goodbyes and Sam decided he better eat before the nerves resurfaced. He quickly fried some bacon, out of habit, and tossed together a smoothie. Everything he could possibly want stocked in the fridge and cupboards; they had done their due diligence, apparently.

Two and a half hours later, Emery was hiking up the church steps, dress bent over her elbow and simple veil trailing behind her loose curls on a winter breeze. She had never had a lot of friends, but today was a day when a female entourage would have come in handy. She thought about her mother and how she would have worried over her hair until it needed to be reset. She sent up a silent prayer to her, telling her that she was finally making an honest woman of herself. Adding a few choice words that would have had them both pursing and posturing before breaking down into fits of giggles. God, did she miss her. She smiled quietly, opening her eyes and the heavy glass door.

The church was cavernous and quiet and after countless trips inside hallowed walls, Sam was able to appreciate the architecture and the scale of the ancient organ pipes. The minister seemed confused, but accommodating, given the last-minute organization. Sam stood at the end of the aisle, hands in his pockets, the ring box lightly brushing against his thigh. A blast of sound curled throughout the space, nimble fingers flying over aged keys as the timeless march stopped Sam’s heart. This was it, a pact fulfilled. He inhaled, swallowed, and turned to face his future.

Emery hated heels, but given the size of her husband, she may have to learn to live with them. The dress was forgiving at least, the gentle satin flowing as she glided down. Tried to glide. There was no one to give her away, no one at her elbow to keep time with, no onlookers to slow down for, no photographer to capture their faces as they saw each other for the first time. This moment was theirs alone, shy and appreciatively sacred. He smiled at her without teeth, dimples mesmerizing as she lost her rhythm, strolling to him out of the step-halt-step that was expected of her. None of that mattered anyway.

She shook her head and smiled back, licking her lips as she remembered the minister was waiting for her. Carefully she stood in front of Sam, toes of her white slippers lining up with his reflective black shoes. A small bouquet of orchids clutched in her right hand, her left petting her skirts as she tried to rub off the sweat.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here-,” the ceremony began. They echoed the scripted vows, eyes locked on each other in hopeful promise. Cautiously optimistic was too naïve for these two, humble veneration too romantic. They stood as strangers, forging a partnership to save those dearest to them. It was a contract that required both of their souls, willfully shared and bonded before Heaven and Earth. Samuel Winchester took this woman, Emery Simmons as his lawfully wedded wife. And she him. For better or worse.

Two days prior

Two days and a series of choices prior, stood the other Winchester in an underground fortress, three hundred fifty miles due East. Dean was in his bedroom, staring at Death, or Billie, if we’re being technical. Which we should, being the time jumps and all. Billie handed him the last remaining outcome of his life on Earth. The book, once one of countless possibilities, remained his sole option from world ending calamity. That was until Sam burst in, with a very stern angel on his heels.

               “Dean! Listen, so—Naomi thinks she can help us. Help you, with Michael.” Dean looked from Death to his brother to the psychotic bureaucrat, the exhaustion heavy in his eyes and on his heart. Puppy dog’s hopeful eyes barraging him with an innocence he hadn’t had to let down gently in ages. Dean felt, unabashedly, like the oldest soul in the room. The women regarded each other, silent conversation earning only an audible hum from the former Reaper.

               “Interesting. Dean? I think you need to hear them out. I’ll be in touch.” Billie nodded to Naomi and vanished before Sam could get a word in. No one mentioned how these beings, especially the angel, entered the Bunker. A place lauded as being the securest on the planet, had conveniently become a haven for all sorts of unmentionables.

               “Okay, let’s hear it,” Dean sighed, perching on his bed as he listened to the latest hair-brained scheme. That night, after hours of arguing, endless curt responses from Naomi and rebuttals from Castiel, Dean agreed to leave with her. Before Naomi whisked him away, she shared a pregnant glance with Sam.

               “We’ll be in touch,” the platinum blonde angel replied curtly. The air was suffocating with tension, Dean tried to get Sam’s attention and Cas glared at his former puppet master.

“Wait, what am I supposed to leave like there isn’t something else going on here?!” Dean bellowed at Naomi, who looked like the cat that got the cream, rolled her eyes.

               “Boys, one thing at a time, please?” She gestured to a corner of the library, where a glowing pattern had appeared on the old tiles.

               “How’d you—” Cas stared in awe as a portal to Heaven opened before their eyes.

               “This is a one-way, temporary portal, Castiel. Don’t try to stowaway or the deal, all of the deals are off. Do I make myself clear?” Naomi glared at each man like a field trip chaperone. The men nodded, but Dean’s jaw worked over all of his unanswered questions. The pounding in his head intensified the moment Naomi arrived, which almost, was a relief. It meant Mikey knew something was happening and his suspicion was enough to swing Dean’s vote.

               “Alright boys,” Dean sniffed. “See you on the other side?” He shook Cas’s hand before pulling him into a brief hug. Sam stood waiting, an arm up and one underneath, they embraced as equals. Another risk, another potential goodbye.

               “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, bitch.” Dean chided, giving Sam a knowing smirk.

               “Too short a list, jerk,” Sam tossed back, as Dean took Naomi’s hand like the kid forced to partner with the teacher in dance class. The portal swayed and flickered, the angel and the hunter pulled skyward, though Heaven was much farther away than the instant transport suggested.

               “Sam?”

               “Not now, Cas.” Sam stormed off, thumbing through his phone, needing to make some calls.

^*^*^

Read On: A New Normal

[diminuel]

15x11 rewatch! Let’s go! It’s again, very long, so read below the cut!

My recap of last week to orient myself: We’ve seen Sam and Dean struggle with issues that they usually don’t have. Garth’s theory is that they are now faced with “normal people problems”, things a writer glosses over when it gets to their heroes because it slows down the story. However, they aren’t only faced with lactose intolerance but also suddenly find that they have trouble with all skills they used while hunting - they can’t open locks (at least not with make shift tools and when they’re stressed), they cannot fight against monsters (that are vastly overpowered while they just have human abilities), etc.

At the end of the episode Garth suggested a magical fix to their issues and we see them decide they would head to Alaska. Meanwhile, Cas is glaringly absent on a not further specified mission to Heaven. (*rolls eyes*)

Now, on twitter I said that if Sam and Dean went to Alaska to find a magic fix it for their issues without talking it through with Cas first they are “embarrassing dumbasses”. Spoiler alert: they are embarrassing dumbasses.

Now we start the reaction. I will bundle this sections since there are two plots that progress 98% independently of each other.

A: Misadventures in Alaska

- I know that Cas is absent, but I wish the Winchesters would have waited long enough to dicuss the issues with Cas. Sam does afterall talk it through with Eileen. And he must have talked to other people about it because he knows that it’s not in the lore and nobody else ever heard of it apart from Garth. But waiting for Cas to discuss with him was too much of a hassle...?

- Dean might not be able to digest cheese now, but he knows how to help himself. Like a normal person. (Well, I’m a normal person too but I just risk it and then suffer the dire consequences.)

- Okay, so they are in Alaska already. Don’t you have to cross through Canada to get to Alaska? If yes, how did they manage to cross the border with all the weapons in their trunk and without valid ID?

- I love Sam’s bewildered reply to when Dean claims that he was playing pool since before Sam was born. “What, between nap time and snack?”

- I was constantly worried that Dean was too cocky about his pool skills considering he had lost some other skills and that he would get into this game without even making sure that he still had the necessary skills for it. However, this episode isn’t the kind of silly overkill like last one was. Pool is a skill Dean and Sam developped over years and years, so of course they should be able to do it. (It’s not the same as lockpicking with a random nail)

- Dean “baiting” the other players wasn’t super elegant for someone who’s hustled pool for years *lol* But it was cute I guess?

- I like that Sam tries to talk to people and make them leave before it’s too late.

- Fortuna’s a dick, not winning any parent of the year awards...

- I like how Dean’s sure enough of himself to know that he’s much more complex than a “sexy but skimmable beach read”

- I think that usually the villains agree to Sam and Dean’s demands far too easily even though they have nothing to bargain with. So I assume Fortuna not agreeing to Sam’s terms falls under Sam and Dean no longer having their god given hero bonuses.

- I really appreciate the explanations we got on how Gods and all the other gods can exist at the same time. Humans/ human needs creating gods has always been my headcanon.

- Fortuna called Sam “little minx” *lol*

- Hero’s luck is a thing independently of Chuck then, but still granted by a divine being. But what makes a hero a hero is not their luck - but their choices and their attitude. Fortuna recognized that in them: bravery, the willingness to risk it all for others.

- I’m not sure yet what “don’t play his game, make him play yours” means. Though it’d be interesting if the same thing that happened to Metatron (who tried to play God) happens to God. God as “one of them”. Give him a soul and the weight of it, so he experiences the story and creation differently. I don’t know. I feel there aren’t enough episodes left for such a “remind God of the beauty and value of his creation” kind of plot.

B: Agent Lizzo

(I think this story line is more interesting than the monster of the week case and should have been given more screentime)

- “CASS”. Sam, that’s not how you spell his name. And why did you write a note instead of texting him? Also, they explained nothing. 

- Jack’s “Wanted by the FBI” picture is pretty cute. I wonder who took it.

- I like how Cas now frequently has a very visible reaction to things; he pulls the phone away from his hears, his expression changes, he has to breathe, before he manages to regain his composure. (Like the phone call he had with Dean while they were still seperated)

- Cas is so cute sitting at the desk with his laptop

- Why Jack. Why do you just sit down in the office to eat the heart?

- We usually saw Jack heal instantly; can’t he heal now or doesn’t he bother to heal his wounds?

- How many Grigori hearts did Jack eat...?

- Jack’s “dark” in ways he wasn’t before. The kind of dialogue he has comes across as very Winchester/ Cas like. I’m also trying to figure him out. He looks to the side at one point, before the Grigori takes his sword, which I assume means he saw Cas? His next expression is hard to describe; his nostrils flare, his calm expression drops. Is he shocked (I doubt it), is he angry (why would he?), is he trying to get out of the ropes to help or run? During the time it takes for Cas to defeat the Grigori, his expressions calms again and he lowers his head again. Maybe I’m just reading too much into it. I’m not very good at reading expressions anyway...

- The hug was nice but I really wish Cas and Jack would have actually spoken to each other. :/

TFW back together

- Dean and Sam are given the “little extra” that Dean wanted: Jack and Cas are back.

- I wish Sam had a bit of a more profound reaction. It’s the kind of welcome back reaction that would have been appropriate if Jack had just come back from a trip to the Swiss Alps where he tried to find himself among the cows and mountain spirits. Not when he came back from being killed by God.

- Dean’s reaction on the other hand was more impactful to me. Here we see that there’s tension there, some unspoken things. But still, he touches Jack the way that Bobby used to touch him. It’s a fierce look, but a gentle, parental touch. At the same time, this scene also addressed how much has changed (for the better!) between Dean and Cas. Dean seeks out Cas for conformation. I’m very soft about that exchange. (I think it also again presents Cas and Dean as an unit, especially when it gets to Jack.)

- I do hope Jack and Dean will hug eventually because the scene switch was a bit too fast for me. A bit more talk would have been better, or guiding them over into the next scene a bit gentler... Too many fanfic gaps here, even though the gaps are small!

- Sam and Dean acting like Jack ran away from them...? Sam: “You could have called.” Really, Sam...? When Jack says he couldn’t even though he wanted Dean says: “why not?” Why not, Dean? Do you really need to ask? And then Jack addressed nothing of what had happened and just brought up the current reason (staying hidden from god). Dude! You killed their mother, they wanted to trap you, then they wanted to kill you! I mean, come on.

- If Grigori hearts are the beginning, then what is next? Grigori are some of the “failed” creations of God that, according to Cas, should have been wiped out by the Flood. So maybe there are other things that God didn’t like for some reason or another that he wanted to get rid of. Grigori wiped out, Leviathan locked away, Nephilim forbidden... Hm. 

- From S11 we know that you can’t kill God. Killing God is not an option... (I also don’t really want it to happen. If the ending is literally creation being wiped out and there is nothing but a black screen at the end then I will have a panic attack.)

New things going forwards: 

Dean and Sam are heroes, no matter what Chuck says. Maybe they are no longer the heroes of his story (here I remember Metatron’s words again “you’re not the hero of this story, you are the villain”). But they’re still heroes. Fortuna rewards them for that alone with hero’s luck, which might give them back their bonuses to a certain degree. But the fact is that Sam and Dean are ordinary humans who become heroes because they are compassionate and brave and while they receive no reward for it, no “great recognition of their deeds”, they matter to the humans they saved. They matter in the smaller scheme of things, in the ways that Chuck disregards. Here I’m thinking of what Cas realized when he became human: that there is dignity in what he does, even if there is no divinity in it, even though it’s meaningless and “below him” even by Dean’s standards. But it mattered to Cas. He hurt, but it was meaningful and he wanted to live his life anyway. Chuck doesn’t see that. Chuck doesn’t see the dignity and meaning in the small things of human life. Because they are nuisances to him, they don’t make stories. Just like Sam and Dean doing the laundry all day don’t make stories for him - but they do for Becky.

So I think this episode reaffirmed what early SPN established: it’s the story of humans and how they save people, even if the odds are against them, and that makes them heroes. And not the other way around.

Some general comments: This is totally subjective but I feel there were some extra scenes that could have been cut (some pool hall stuff, the Grigori thing could have been slimmed down a bit) to give more space to things which I found more relevant like Cas/TFW’s reunion with Jack. I know that fanfic will fill the gaps eventually, but I wish we had to do a bit less work, you know? *lol* I mean, how did Cas and Jack’s conversation go, how was the drive back? How long where they in the Bunker by the time Sam and Dean came back from Alaska? What did they talk about? What conversations were exchanged in the scene break between TFW reuniting and them sitting at the map table? So many scenes to fill.

[jamielea81]

The Three Times You Met Sam Winchester

One Shot - About 4,800 words

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader, Dean Winchester

Warnings: Minor angst, fluff, minor violence, a few curse words, implied smut (but not really)

This is my first Supernatural fic so please be gentle. Feedback, comments, reblogs are always appreciated. This is unbeta’d, so all mistakes are my own. 

Thanks to @the--blackdahlia for the wonderful aesthetic!

The first time you met Sam Winchester, you were ten years old. Of course, you didn’t know his last name, you rarely knew any of your friend’s last names. He was just Sam.

It was summertime and you and a couple of friends were hanging outside a gas station a couple of blocks from your house. An older kid had showed a few other kids how to steal quarters out of a soda machine that was outside the gas station. It seemed simple, so you were giving it a shot. After you and two friends each chewed a piece of bubble gum, you all placed your chewed pieces on the end of a stick and stuck the stick in the open slot of the machine. You could visibly see quarters down there and sure enough when you pulled the stick back out, there were 4 quarters stuck to it. Quickly pulling the quarters off and sticking them in your pocket, you handed the stick to your friend Randy and took your turn as lookout.

“What are you guys doing?” A boy about your age asked, scaring the crap out of you in the process.

Throwing your hand over your heart, you took a deep breath calming yourself down. “You scared me, sneak up on people much?”

“Sorry.” He looked down and started to walk away.

“Wait!” He paused and turned back to you. “What’s your name?”

“Sam. What’s yours?”

You smiled and stuck out your hand. That was just the kind of kid you were, grown up before you were actual grown. “Y/N. If you keep quiet, I’ll tell you what we are doing.”

Still keeping an eye on the gas station door as your other friend Beth had her turn, you quietly explained to Sam what you and your friends were up to. Sam was not impressed and a small part of you was heartbroken over his disapproval.

“Listen, you don’t have to do this, but please don’t tell on me.”

Sam thought it over and said he wouldn’t. “I’m just going to go find my brother and go back to our motel.” He started to walk away again, but you grabbed his arm pulling him to you.

“We’re going to go play video games at the pizzeria down the road, do you want to do that?” You asked, voice hesitant. “I’m going to go home and have lunch with my mom, but I’ll probably go over there in an hour.”

Sam smiled. “O-oh, okay. Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”

“Great! See you later Sam.” He waved and walked away.

As planned, Sam was waiting outside the pizzeria when you and your friends got there. You all shuffled inside and spread out amongst the arcade machines in the back of the restaurant. Your go to was Super Mario Bros. It was a two-player game so you threw in quarters for both you and Sam. You both played and talked for hours. Sam explained he wasn’t from here and that his dad traveled for work. He didn’t know how long him and his older brother Dean would be in town, but he thought for at least a week. 

When you were all out of quarters, Sam walked you home. “Wanna hangout tomorrow?” You asked.

“Yeah. I’ll have to ask my brother, but I’m sure I can.”

“Just come over when you’re done with breakfast and we’ll find something to do.”

“Okay. Bye Y/N.”

“Bye Sam.”

You never did see Sam the next day or the day after that. He ended up just being one of those kids you thought about every once in awhile as you grew up.  

The second time you met Sam Winchester you were 20 years old. 

During your sophomore year of high school, a friend of yours had told you her plan to travel through Europe for six months. You desperately wanted to join her, so you got a job and worked nights and weekends, saving every penny you could. By the time you graduated, you had enough to travel for a year, so you took a year off. To say your mom was upset was an understatement. You promised her you would go to school when you had the traveling out of your system and you did. Unfortunately, the school you chose was far away from home. You enrolled in classes at Mission College in California to get away from the kids you grew up with and to get away from the cold winters of Missouri. You decided on a two-year college to get the generals out of the way and for you to decide what you wanted to be “when you grew up.”

It was the start of your second year at Mission, not being old enough to drink in bars, house parties were pretty much your entertainment on weekends. It was Friday night and your roommate Hannah was dragging you to a party near Stanford. There were parties near your school, but the parties thrown around the Stanford campus were a bit bigger and a bit crazier. Hannah was feeling crazy.

Dressing in jeans and a purple V-neck t-shirt, you slipped on a pair of flats, grabbed your keys and cellphone and waited for your taxi cab with Hannah.It was only after 9 by the time you reached the party but it was in full swing. Several people were on the front lawn, plastic cups and beer bottles in hand. You and Hannah squeezed yourselves through the front entrance of the house. The music was loud and you were struggling to hear your roommate. You were pretty sure she said she was going to find the bathroom. Already. Really Hannah? 

You walked to the kitchen, barley managing to avoid bumping into anyone. A keg was in the middle of the room with a couple of guys standing around it filling cups as people approached.

“Hey.” Offering your best flirty smile. “Could I get one of those?” You said point to the cup in his hand.

“Of course.” He got to work filling a cup and then passing it to you. It was mostly foam, but hey, he tried. “What’s your name? I don’t think I’ve seen you around.”

“Y/N. I go to Mission.” You smiled taking a sip from the cup.

“You should come by more often. We usually have a party here most weekends. I’m Ryan by the way.”

“Maybe I will. I’m going to look for my roommate, but I’ll be back over.” He gave you a smile and you returned it. He was a good looking guy, but you just weren’t looking to hook up tonight.

Walking back into the living room you tried looking for Hannah, but frankly there were too many people. If she was standing right in front of you, you probably still wouldn’t spot her.

Finishing your beer, you left the empty cup on the first clear counter you found and headed out the back door grabbing a bottle of beer from a large tub filled with ice on the deck. There were several wooden benches on the deck and a few chairs. You took a seat on one of the empty benches and enjoyed the still warm fall air. There were several groups of people on the deck, all in their own little world. There was a group of three guys closest to you that you couldn’t help ease dropping on. They were talking about classes, but it wasn’t the conversation that caught you, it was the gorgeous, tall brunette with shaggy hair. He looked slightly familiar, but you didn’t know him. You went to a bunch of parties last year, so you were most likely remembering him. It wasn’t until another guy walked up to their group and called Mr. good looking Sam, that your interest was completely piqued. This can’t be the Sam I’ve thought about since I was a kid. You didn’t even know where that Sam was from, only that his family traveled a lot. You could really use Hannah right now. She was definitely not shy and would be more than happy to approach the group of guys with you.

You hung back and tried not to stare. You really hoped he wouldn’t leave before you decided what to do. Finishing your beer, you got up and grabbed another one from the tub. After a few minutes, two of the guys in his group left, leaving him and another guy. They both ended up walking to the far side of the deck taking a seat on a couple of chairs. You took a couple more pulls from your beer and decided to throw caution to the wind and say hello. Even if it wasn’t The Sam, saying someone looked familiar wasn’t a crazy conversation starter.

You stood up and walked quickly to where he was sitting. He’s looking at his friend and doesn’t see you. You touch his arm. “Hey.”

They both look to you and Sam smiles. “Hi.” Eyebrows raised.

“This is going to sound weird, and I swear it’s not a pick up line.” You laugh mostly because you’re embarrassed and maybe a little tipsy. Have you ever been to Richmond Heights Missouri?” He tilts his head to the side, still smiling, but he doesn’t speak right away. “You know what? Never mind. I’m, I’m just going to go back over there.” Your pointing with your beer bottle back to your now abandoned bench. Man, you miss that bench already.

“No, wait!” You stop in your tracks and turn around. “When I was kid. I’m pretty sure I did with my family.”

Your face splits into a huge smile. “When you were like 10?”

He looks at you suspiciously. “Y-yeah.” He says, very drawn out.

“You don’t by chance remember playing Super Mario Bros. in a pizzeria?’

He laughs, deep and long. “What?!” He’s laughing again. “Y/N?”

You start nodding your head fast and furious. Holy shit it’s him!

He stands up and boy is he tall. He pulls you into a hug and you hug him back. His friend gets up from his chair and motions for you to take it. His friend, whose name you can’t seem to remember even though Sam just said it, excuses himself to let you two talk.

You both catch up on why you’re going to school in California. He’s here because he got a full ride and you’re here because after traveling you didn’t want to go back to Missouri. He’s prelaw and you tell him you aren’t sure yet. He’s so good looking it’s becoming hard for you not to get lost in his eyes and zone out on what he’s saying.

“I didn’t think I’d get to see you again. You know, you never came to my house the next day.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. When I got back to the motel my dad was already there and said we were hitting the road. I didn’t have time to come tell you.”

“It’s honestly OK, Sam. We only knew each other that one day. I’m surprised you even remember me!”

“How can I forget the girl who was stealing quarters.”

You laugh. “I was such a rebel back then. I’ll have you know I never stole again. I think your disapproval shamed me.”

“I’m glad I could be such an influence on your life.” Smiling so bright you can’t help but smile back.

You and Sam talked for a couple of hours. He got up at one point and grabbed a few beers. Hannah had found you eventually and gave you a thumbs up when she saw that you were with Sam.

When the party started to die out, you called for another taxi and went searching for Hannah with Sam in tow. When you tracked her down, she said she wouldn’t be coming home tonight and wiggled her eyebrows at you.

Sam walked you to the end of the driveway to wait with you for your ride. Feeling slightly brave, you leaned forwarded and captured Sam’s lips in a kiss. It took him a couple of seconds before he returned it. He pulled you against him and you threw your arms around his neck. Your hands running through his gorgeous head of hair as he kissed you feverously. One hand on your head holding you in place while his other traveled down your back settling on your butt. You let out a small moan and he stopped. He dropped his hands and took a step back.

You opened your eyes searching his to see what was wrong. “Sam?”

“I-I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” He said. His eyes were cast downwards. Was that regret?

“Well, why not?” You were nervous now. Playing with your fingers. “Am I that bad of a kisser?” You hoped joking would ease the tension that you were currently feeling.

“No, Y/N, of course not. It’s just that,” he paused to lick his lips. “I have a girlfriend.” There it was. It’s always too good to be true. Your stomach dropped. Of course, he did.

“Oh. Huh. I understand. I’m sorry I kissed you.” It was your turn to drop your head down.

“No, Y/N, don’t do that. I kissed you back. I wanted to kiss you. We just can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Sam. Why don’t you go back to the party? I’ll be OK.”

“Don’t say that. I want to stay. I want to make sure you get home OK.”

“I’m a big girl. It’s fine. I, I actually would like to be alone. It was great seeing you Sam. Good luck with school. I’m sure you’ll do great things.” You tried to smile, but it was a weak attempt.

“Thanks, Y/N. I’m sure you’ll do great things. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, maybe. Bye Sam.”

He waved and slowly headed up the driveway. Turning around a few times to look at you, but you pretended not to notice.

The third time you met Sam Winchester you were 33 years old.

After you finished your two years at Mission you moved down to San Diego and got a degree in computer science. You were hired by a startup tech company right after graduation. Luckily for you, that company flourished and you did well for yourself. When you were 29, your mom got very sick. Throughout the years you visited home and sometimes your mom would come out to stay with you. But she needed you, so you packed all you could, shipped everything home and  sold all your furniture. Your boss and your boss’ boss loved you since you had been loyal to them since the start. They were allowing you to work from home which was amazing. It gave you the time to care and spend time with your mom and not be out of a job. 

Two years later, your mom passed away. The house was left to you, but you didn’t want to be there. There were too many memories. You didn’t want to go back to San Diego though either. Moving across country was a pain in the ass. The next two years you fixed up the house and tried and failed to make it your own. You figured you’d eventually sell it, so you might as well make it as nice as it could be.

You continued to work from home which was kind of lonely if you were being honest. So, you did what every other 30 something year old in your town did, you hit the bars at night and hung around friends from high school. It was something and it was nice to bound with a few of your classmates again. Most were married with families, but there were a few of you that were single. On weekends you’d put a little extra care into your appearance and head to one of the few bars in town. Tonight, was no different.

Natalie was on the other side of the bar and you had the perfect view. She was dancing with herself, but not on a dance floor. No, Natalie was a wild one and bit of a drunk. She was dancing between tables and up against the bar bumping patrons as she went, long brown curls bouncing as she went.

“Are you going to control her?” Steve, one of the bartenders you had come to know asked.

“I will, I will. At least let me finish my beer, Steve.” You teased and he gave you an unamused smile back. “You love us.”

“You do keep me in business.”

“Funny.” You tipped your beer to him signaling another. Just as you were about to stand up, you saw Natalie sit at a table with a few guys. You hadn’t seen them before, but it wasn’t a small town. You decided to stay put for now, besides, there was a very good looking guy directly across from you. Even from across the bar you could tell that he was gorgeous. Great body, sandy blonde hair, beautiful green eyes. You really hoped he lived in town. You had made eye contact with him a few times. You were playing the long game, hoping small smiles and eye contact would eventually make him come over. Unfortunately for you, every other woman in this bar was doing the same thing. Some were bolder, buying him drinks and sitting next to him. He’d flirt with them but then they’d eventually leave his side.

Movement from Natalie drew your attention away from Mr. green eyes. She was leaving the booth with the three of guys she was sitting with. You jumped from your stool and told Steve you’d be back.

“Hey, Nat! Where are you going?” Catching up to her just outside the door of the bar, she turned around bright small on her face. 

“Y/N!” She hugged you while the three guys checked you out. “These are my new friends. They are having a party and I going to go. Do you want to go?”

“No, Natalie. I think we need to stay here.” You grabbed her hand and started to walk to the door to go back inside.

“Hey, hey. Wait a minute. No need to run off. We’re nice guys.” Douche number one said. You decided to call them Douche one, two and three.

“I don’t know about that, but her and I are staying.”

Douche number two grabbed Natalie’s arm and pulled hard knocking her on her ass. He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.

“Let her go! Someone help!” You yelled as you ran after Douche number two who was hightailing it to the far end of the parking lot. Douche number three grabbed both your arms pulling them harshly behind your back. He dragged you around the corner of the bar and slammed you against the brick wall. You weren’t in the best shape of your life but you felt so weak compared to this guy. He held both of your hands over your head against the wall. His other hand was running down your face. He had his legs pushed against your own so your attempts to knee and kick him failed.

“Such a pretty girl. You should play nice and stop being such a bitch.”

You did the only thing you could think to do; you spit in his face. He removed his hand from your face and wiped his own.

“You bitch!” He yelled. When he removed his hand from his face, you saw nothing but sharp pointy teeth. What the fuck!?

You screamed and wiggled and moved as best you could. He struck you with the back of his hand and you whimpered in pain. He started to lean toward you with that awful mouth. You were crying now, tears streaming down your face. You’ve never felt so helpless.

You heard shuffling but couldn’t see anything other than a pair of boots that stopped directly behind Douche number three. Your captor turned his head and was promptly punched in the face by Mr. green eyes. He temporarily lost his hold on you, so you moved a little to give yourself space. You then kicked him square in the stomach, sending him to the ground. Green eyes looked up at you and blinked twice. A second later, Douche number three’s head was chopped off from his body, laying on the ground with his eyes open. It was so quick; you didn’t have time to scream. Looking at Mr. green eyes, you see that he’s holding a sword. Wait, not a sword. Is that a fucking machete? Then you were screaming.

He covered your mouth with his hand. “Hey, hey sweetheart. You need to calm down. You’re safe. Bad guy is dead, he’s not going to hurt you.”

You nodded your head but the tears kept on rolling down your face. You suddenly remembered Natalie and you started freaking out all over again. “Natalie! Natalie!” You screamed as you started to run to the far end of the parking lot.

“Wait! She’s fine. She’s fine.” Mr. green eyes yelled. You started to slow down but still headed in the direction you last saw her being taken to. “Sammy’s got her. She’s fine.”

“Who the fuck is Sammy?”

“My brother. Now will you calm down? We’re the good guys here. I’ll take you to her.”

You nodded and followed him. You were shaking, but something told you to trust him. What other option did you really have at this point? There was a headless man in the parking lot. You weren’t sure how you would explain this to the cops.

Mr. green eyes lead you to an old black classic Chevy. A guy was leaning against the passenger door as you approached. It was too dark to get a good look at his face, but you hoped it wasn’t one of the other Douches. “Your friend is passed out in the back seat. It’s probably a good thing. Hopefully she won’t remember tonight.”

You let out a long breath you didn’t even know you were holding. You took a look through the back window and sure enough, she was out. You walked back to the front of the car where Mr. green eyes was standing. His brother pushed off the door and started to walk to join you. “Listen, I’m sorry for all the screaming back there. I don’t know how to thank you enough. But what the hell was that thing?”

“I think we need to get this mess cleaned up first, and then talk later. I’m Dean, this is my brother Sam.” He pointed to the guy standing behind you. You turned your head to say hello and your stomach dropped.

“Sam? Sam Winchester?”

Sam’s face was one of shock, mouth open, wide eyes. “Y/N?”

You nodded yes and dove in for a hug. You were far too emotional that you didn’t know what else to do with yourself. A hug seemed like a good start. He hugged you back, but you pulled away after only a couple of seconds.

“Wait, you guys know each other?”

You both nodded yes. “Yeah, but it’s a long story.”

“Well, why don’t you let Sammy help you get your friend home and I will take care of this mess?”

“Okay. Yeah, we can do that.” 

Sam carried Natalie from their car to your car. You drove while Sam sat in the passenger seat to Natalie’s place. Neither of you spoke. When you reached her house, you explained to her roommate that she drank too much and passed out. After making sure she was safe in her bed, you and Sam left. He called Dean to let him know the two of you were getting coffee and he would meet up with him later. The only place open was a 24-hour Denny’s so you settled on going there. 

“So, what were those things Sam?”

Sam took a breath. “Those were vampires.”

“Vampires.” You repeated and nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay? Just like that?”

“Well, I saw that thing’s teeth. It checks out.”

“Listen, Y/N. A lot of things from scary movies are real, vampires are just the tip of the iceberg.”

“I’ve got time. Why don’t you tell me about them?”

He nodded and began to run down the list of what else was out there. You ended up talking for hours. You talked about where you finished school, what you were doing now. You told him about your mom. He told you about his family and what they did. He told you about his girlfriend Jessica, and about leaving school. It was a lot to take in, but you felt that you had finally met the real Sam Winchester.

You exchanged telephone numbers and dropped him at the motel across town.

You started a texting relationship with him that morphed into phone calls once a week and then calls daily. You were smitten with him. After three months of texting, calling and flirting, he came to visit you. He ended up staying a week. He called it a vacation, you called it a long date. He stayed in your old room the first three nights. The fourth night he took you on a date. You went to dinner and then walked around downtown. He held your hand. When you arrived home, he kissed you good night in front of your bedroom door. It wasn’t like your first kiss together. It was soft and gentle. Barely there touches and smiles between kisses. You changed into your pajamas, crawled into bed only to crawl out of it. You walked across the hall and knocked on Sam’s door.

“Come in.”

You opened the door to see Sam lying on the bed, arms behind his head. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He sat up swinging his legs over the side. “Can’t sleep?”

You were shy all of a sudden, embarrassed even. “It’s not that. I was wondering if you wanted to come sleep in my room. With me.”

A small smile played on his lips. He nodded and stood up. He reached for your hand and you lead him to your room. You kissed and cuddled most of the night. It was nice and sweet.

The next night, you both were tangled between the sheets and each other. It was slow and gentle, and everything you had fantasized about since you started flirting over the phone.

When it came time for Sam to get home, you cried. You didn’t want him to leave. He held you for hours whispering promises and sweet words in your ear. You walked him to his car and said goodbye.

The next two months were hard. He and Dean were busy constantly saving the world. Sam still tried to call you as much as he could, but it mostly resolved into a text every few days and a call once a week.

You put the house up for sale. It was time. You decided a condo would be best, you weren’t much for gardening and shoveling wasn’t much fun either. However, you wanted to wait until the house was sold before you made an offer on a new place.

It was a random Thursday. You had finished work for the day and were outside cutting the grass. The realtor advised to keep it short, so every few days you were cutting it and praying for an offer. You heard the familiar sound of the Impala. You cut the engine of the mower and turned around to see Sam and Dean stopping in front of the house. Your grin filled your face and you started to walk to the curb. The both got out of the car, but Dean stayed put.

“Hi Y/N.”

“Hi Dean.” You called back.

Sam met you in the middle and pulled you into a bear hug. You pulled back and kissed him deeply. “What are you doing here?”

“We were coming out this way and I had to see you.”

You kissed him again. “I’m glad you did. How long are you here for?”

“Well, that depends on you.” You gave him a questioning look. “Since the day you told me you were selling the house, I couldn’t get this idea out of my head.”

You nodded. “Go on.”

“Instead of buying another place, why don’t you move in with me, well us. You work from home anyway, you can work from home there. Move in with me.”

“What? Are you serious?”

He kissed you again. “Yes, I’m serious. I don’t want to lose another 10 years. What do you say?”

“And Dean’s OK with this?”

He turned his head and looked to Dean who was back sitting in the car. “Hey Dean, it’s OK if Y/N moves in, right?” Dean threw out a thumbs up out the window and you laughed.

“OK then.”

“Yeah?” He asked.

“Yes, I’ll move in with you.” He picked you up and spun you around. He set you back on the ground and pulled you in for another kiss. You couldn’t wait to spend every night kissing him.

@the--blackdahlia @flamencodiva

[waywardrose13]

Running With Wolves- Chapter Two

Chapter One // My Masterlist

Pairings: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Dean x Feral!Omega!Reader (eventually)

Chapter Warnings: Angst, language, A/B/O dynamics, disownment of a child, abusive relationship (briefly), heat, angry!reader, possessive!Dean, mild smut, virgin!reader (implied), implied past attempted assault, and more angst

Series Warnings: Language, A/B/O dynamics, graphic violence, Feral!Reader, harassment, attempted physical assault, cheating, graphic murder, age-gap, more warnings TBD

Word count: 4421

Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Eleanor (OFC), Alaric Y/L/N, Eliza Y/L/N

Synopsis: She’s never been your typical omega. She’s never fit the stereotypical soft spoken and submissive role. Instead, she’s hot-headed and aggressive, leading people to believe her to be an alpha. “Borderline feral,” she’s called, and she can’t help but wonder if that’s what she’s been battling against her whole life. Being disowned by her own father and looked down upon by society for her biology kept her from allowing people to know she’s an omega. But when she meets her true mate, her secret is revealed, and she no longer feels safe inside her own home. Fast forward a year, Y/N Y/L/N is living peacefully with her alpha and his brother. Her temper had been kept at bay since being mated, and Dean Winchester never expected her to be the omega most alphas saw them to be. But when he breaks her trust, and her heart, she snaps, and the inner ferocity she fought so hard against for years comes to light, and the only thing that can save her from herself is her alpha, the one who betrayed her in the first place.

A/N- Chapter two! Thank you for all the feedback on chapter one! It helped motivate me to write the next chapter quickly:) I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and next chapter, we’re going to start seeing some serious borderline feral-ness from the reader;)

Feedback is encouraged and greatly appreciated! It’s what keeps me motivated and it always makes me smile:)

I clung to the alpha’s jacket, sweat beading on my forehead as fire erupted from under my skin. He hadn’t said a word, swiftly carrying me through the parking lot and to a car. I was too dazed and wrapped up in my own heat to get a good look at it, or even protest to being put into a stranger’s car, and curled up in the front seat he place me in. I could vaguely hear shouting outside the car, my eyes fluttering a bit to catch a glimpse of the alpha and an even taller man yelling at each other outside, the alpha growling and pushing the other man back as he opened the driver’s door.

“Mine,” he snarled, shutting the door quickly in the man’s face and peeling out of the parking lot. Another forceful cramp hit me, and I groaned, my arms wrapping around my torso as pain ripped through my body. My clothes clung to my damp skin, making me even more uncomfortable than I already was. I could feel the alpha’s eyes glance at me periodically, but I barely noticed. My hands fumbled with my flannel, buttons being clumsily slipped out of their holes and the fabric was slipped from my shoulders. I wasn’t thinking much as the heat drove me mad, my hands stripping my undershirt off to leave me in a bra and jeans. The alpha finally placed a hand over my fumbling fingers as they messed with the button of my jeans. I whined at the contact, my body reacting to his touch on its own accord.

“Patience, omega,” he said softly, voice husky and warm like whiskey. His voice now a stark contrast from the bar, slow and soft; kind and gentle as he shushed me. I whimpered, crying out as a cramp hit me hard.

“Please, alpha,” I panted, writhing on the leather. “It hurts.”

“I know, omega. I know. We’re almost there,” he assured me, his hand moving back to the steering wheel. His body was tense, his self control amazing. An omega, his omega, in heat beside him, and he was keeping himself together rather well. I, on the other hand, felt as though I was going to burst into flames, my thighs rubbing together to try and soothe the growing ache between them.

After what felt like hours, the alpha stopped the car, getting out quickly and rounding to my side, lifting me with ease and stalked across the parking lot, pushing open a door and walking into a room.

He placed me on to a bed. It wasn’t overly comfortable, but it was good enough that I could stretch out on, my body twitching and writhing in discomfort. I could hear the door lock and the deadbolt be put into place, the distinct sound of a belt being undone making me realize that the alpha was a stranger, anxiety bubbling deep within me. The thought that I have never done this hadn’t crossed my mind yet, and I debated on whether or not to tell him. If I did, he may stop, and I fucking needed this. But the nerves were undeniable, and as I heard him take off his shoes and jeans, the reality of it all set in. I had never wanted to do this before now, the fear of an alpha claiming me or a beta spilling the beans that I was an omega too strong. But this was the strongest heat I’d ever had, and the fucking adonis undressing mere five feet from me made me want it now more than ever. There were questions, sure, but luckily I knew the aspects of it. I knew he was my true mate, and even though I was buzzing with nerves, I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else.

He crawled up the bed, aiding in my fruitless attempts to get my jeans off. He took off my shoes and socks, slipping the denim over my ankles and tossing it behind him. I panted and squirmed, my hand traveling unconsciously down, fingers beginning to poke under my panties when a hand caught mine.

“I’ve got you, ‘mega,” the alpha whispered, bringing my hand up to kiss my fingertips, one by one. “What’s your name, pretty girl?”

“Y/N,” I said breathlessly. He hummed, his other hand running up my side with the touch of a feather, making me shiver.  

“I’m Dean,” he said slowly, knowing I wasn’t quite in the right headspace to listen. My eyes were closed, hands blindly reaching out for him.

“Alpha,” I pleaded.

“What’s your last name?” He murmured. I groaned in frustration.

“Y/L/N,” I said.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” he said slowly, testing it on his tongue. He bent down again, scenting my neck. He moaned, hands tightening a bit on my waist as he placed a kiss to my neck.

“How old are you, ‘mega?” He asked, fingertips running over my cheek as he pulled back. I nuzzled his hand, leg lifting to wrap around his waist, hips bucking to rub against him.

“Please.”

“Answer the question,” he said.

“Twenty-three,” I grunted, impatient. I felt him stiffen for a moment, relaxing as I ran my hand up the side of his neck. “Now please… Take the pain away.”

His hand cupped my cheek, my eyes opening to lock with his emerald ones. He gave me a gentle smile, leaning down and pressing his lips softly to mine.

Seven Years Ago

I packed quickly, taking the absolute necessities. Clothes, my money stash, medicine and some of my favorite books. I picked up the thin rope bracelet on my dresser, enclosing it in my fist before taking a glance around my room. It wasn’t completely bare, but it was plain. Simple paintings inhabiting the cream walls, a black and white floral bedspread the only truly decorative thing in the room. My father never allowed such things like posters and colored walls. He wanted simple and elegant, a room that could fit a beta. A beta who never came to be.

I distinctly heard my father’s voice, loud and angry down the hallway. I gently shut my door behind me, looking to my right at my parent’s room.

“She’s a fucking omega! Do you know how this will affect me? Us? We’ll be the laughing stock of the town!” Dad yelled.

“She’s our daughter, Alaric. How can you throw her out on the street? An omega… alone. What the hell is wrong with you?”

I flinched at the sound of skin hitting skin. Closing my eyes, I wavered on my feet, teetering on the edge of running outside, and running to my mother. I clenched my jaw as a sudden burst of anger surged through me. A rage that unbeknownst to me, sparked a growing rage that would lead to future consequences.

“You will not speak to me that way,” he hissed. My mother didn’t reply, the lock on their door echoing softly as it turned, the knob jiggling. Swallowing hard, I sprinted down the stairs, knowing my father was expecting me gone. Dashing towards the front door, I bent down and picked up my tennis shoes, slipping them on as quickly as I could, dad’s steps down the stairs matching my crashing heart in my chest.

His eyes met mine as I stood up from tying my second shoe, both frozen in our places. His jaw ticked, the creak on the stairs letting us both know my mother has joined us.

“Can I say goodbye to her?” I asked. His lip twitched.

“No,” he said slowly. “You’re supposed to be gone already.”

“Right.” I nodded bitterly, giving him a smirk. “Because my presence will affect you, right? I’ll cause you to be the laughing stock of the town?” I chuckled darkly, eyes narrowing. He almost flinched at the look I was giving him, confusion and utter fear crossing his face. My eyes flickered to the stairs briefly before meeting his again. “I’m not sure I want to be living under the roof of an alpha who’s too wrapped up in his own self image and egotistical mind to care about his own daughter.” His bows raised. “An alpha more concerned with himself than his pack isn’t fit to be, well… the alpha.”

“What did you just say?” He asked lowly, stalking towards me slowly. I stood my ground, not fazed by his angered look, or the way his hand raised in preparation to strike me.

My eyes looked down at his hand, another dour chuckle slipping past my lips, making him stop in his tracks. I locked eyes with him once more, shoulders straightening as I said my final words to my father.

“I wouldn’t try that if I were you,” I said, head tilting a bit. “I wouldn’t be afraid to fight back. I’m not your daughter anymore, remember?” I felt my nails sharpen a bit at my words, a threatening scent spilling from me, my father stiffening at the sudden change. He could feel it, feel my anger and the strange energy rolling off me. An energy and rage omegas didn’t have, something that scared him. “So hit me, I strike. Unlike Ma, I ain’t your bitch.”

And with that, I opened the door, stepping out into the sunlight, leaving my parents behind without another look.

Present Day

I felt heavy.

I was naked, my hands braced on the dingy motel room bathroom sink, head down and eyes closed. Waking up next to a body- a stranger- for the first time in my life was beyond nerve racking. Finding my true mate was even more so. My eyes flickered up to the mirror, locking on the claim that had been laid less than ten hours ago.  

I growled lowly, fist raising and punching the glass with such ferocity, it cracked and shattered, little shards raining down on the ceramic. I never wanted to be claimed. I never wanted an alpha. My mother’s words had rung in my head since I presented, the constant warning of alphas keeping me wary and distant. I refused to even get close to betas. But now I was tied to an alpha whom I just met, one I knew nothing about. I had already given a piece of myself to him, but I didn’t think he’d fucking claim me.

The door burst open, the alpha’s eyes wide and searching, a gun in his hand. I cringed away from it, scrunching up my face at the intrusion. I grabbed the robe hanging on the rack, slipping into it as he simply stared at the mirror.

“What the fuck?” He asked, looking down at me. My face was blank, but my eyes were hard, staring into emerald ones filled with confusion. “I thought you were hurt.”

“Nope,” I said. He nodded, running a hand through his hair.

“Why… Why did you break the mirror?” He asked. It was then that I noticed he was still bare, his fucking junk out for me to see in the morning light. He didn’t seem fazed by that fact, obviously very comfortable around me already. I, however, wasn’t.

“I was angry,” I said simply. I moved around him, doing the best I could not to touch him. He watched me, a puzzled expression on his face. I looked around the room for my clothes, finding them and picking them up, realizing my flannel and undershirt were still in his car.

And then another cramp hit.

I grunted, hand flying out to land on the headboard of the bed, eyes closing as I took a deep breath. I had been fine this morning, last night’s events keeping my heat at bay. But now the wave was coming back.

“Hey, hey,” Dean said softly, rushing to my side. I flinched as he got closer, and he recoiled immediately.

“Don’t… don’t touch me,” I said.

“What is going on?” He asked. “You were so… different last night.”

“Yeah, heat does that to you,” I snapped.

“The fuck is your problem?” He asked harshly.

I winced as I stood up straight, hand flying to my abdomen as another cramp hit. “You fucking claimed me last night.”

“Okay… and?” He raised a brow.

“You don’t see the problem with that?” I yelled. “We don’t know each other!”

“You’re my true mate!” He said. “Who the fuck else would claim you? Do you have someone else?”

“I… No,” I said.

“So what’s the problem?” He shook his head. He smiled a bit, walking forward again. He reached for me, and this time I let him take my hands in his, fingers gently lacing with mine. “Look, I never wanted to claim anyone. Ever. But I never thought I’d meet my true mate. The person I was supposed to be with. And last night, I swear, I wanted to wait. But the time came and I couldn’t help myself.” His eyes locked on the mark on my neck, his fingers reaching up to brush over it softly. “The life I live… It’s a dangerous one and I never would want to drag anyone into it. But if you’re my true mate, it means someone thinks you’re strong enough to handle it. And honestly, I could use something good in my life right now.”

I bit my lip, mulling over his words. He was right. I didn’t have anyone else, nor have I ever. Last night was the first glimpse I’ve ever had at the passion and emotions between two people. And even though I had just met Dean, I knew I wouldn’t want to leave him, even if he hadn’t claimed me. Being in his presence, I felt complete, like a part of me had been filled that I had been missing. I had been angry, furious, about being claimed. But his words had reassured me, made my heart swell just a bit. I smiled smally at him, embarrassed about how I had acted earlier. But I couldn’t control myself; the anger I seemed to always have. It seemed I was never able to.

I cringed and moaned in discomfort as the pain grew in my belly, my skin starting to itch and sweat. I lifted my chin, tilting my head a bit so my mark was clearer. I pressed myself against Dean, hands running up his bare chest to lock around his neck, my nose reaching to press against his throat.

“Alpha,” I whispered. He growled at his title, his arms wrapping tightly around me, lifting me up until my lips met his. He carried me to the bed, tongue licking into my mouth, lips soft but harsh against mine. Dropping me onto the mattress, he broke away, unceremoniously ripping the robe open to expose me. I writhed on the bed with need, skin flushing both from the heat and embarrassment from being so… bare. He could feel the uneasiness rolling off me, his lips dipping to kiss my stomach, moving up to the canal between my breasts, finally landing on his claim mark.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” He said lowly, hands running down my sides to rest on my waist. He rolled his hips against mine, his hot member heavy and hard, making me gasp as it bumped my core.

“I… I don’t think so,” I said honestly, barely remembering anything from last night. He chuckled, pressing his lips to mine again, one of his hands traveling further south. His fingers danced across my pelvic bone for a moment, the increasing nerves bubbling inside me once more, worse than last night, not as delirious from heat now. They dipped lower, running up and down, pressing on the small bundle of nerves, making me jerk in his hold.

“Well then,” he whispered. He shuffled down the bed, giving me a lewd smile before pressing a kiss to my hip. “I guess I’m just going to hafta show you, hm?”

Seven Years Ago

My feet were killing me.

I was nearly across town now, halfway through the thicket of woods. It was the only place I could think of to go. The only place that I wouldn’t be kicked out of.

When the house finally came into view, I nearly sobbed with joy. Ignoring my aching feet, I ran, hoisting my bag higher on my shoulder. Just the mere sight of it brought a wash of calm and relief over me.

It was older. A southern farmhouse in a field past the woods of my small hometown. It was white with black shutters, a wrap around porch decorated with hanging pots of yellow and pink flowers. The steps leading up to the porch were old and cracked in places, much like the rest of the house, but it still had the familiar smell and feel of home and love.

I raised my fist and knocked on the door, hoping she hadn’t already gone to her Thursday meetings at the church. The cool wind blew my hair over my shoulder, the small swinging bench rocking lightly, the old chains squeaking loudly. I sighed, moving to peer into one of the windows. I could see the lowly lit sitting room and its hideously floral decorated walls, the open book and glass of water on the small table beside the ottoman chair.

I moved back to the door, about to knock, when it opened. The salt and pepper haired woman I was dying to open the door smiled warmly at me, her gray eyes kind.

“Why, Y/N,” she said, a hint of a laugh in her words. “What brings you out here?”

My smile faltered, brows furrowing. “He kicked me out, Ellie-” her eyes widened- “because I’m an omega.”

She swallowed thickly, pushing open the screen door and beckoning me inside. Sympathy was written across her face, her arms instantly wrapping themselves around me.

“Oh, my dear,” she said sadly. “My poor dear.”

I hugged her tightly, the familiar lemongrass and chamomile scent washing over me. She patted my back, pulling away to guide me into the kitchen.

“Won’t you have a slice of pie, Y/N?” She asked, motioning for me to sit at the breakfast table. I laughed softly, dropping my bag and complying, smiling at her as she set a plate with a slice of cherry pie in front of me.

“You don’t care that I’m… I’m an omega?” I asked, picking up my fork. She sat in the chair beside me, smoothing the tablecloth over round wood.

“No,” she said after a moment. She looked up at me, giving me a smile. “You know I wouldn’t. That’s why you came here.”

I let a short breath out of my nose, my lip twitching. Her hand landed on my knee, patting it gently.

“I’ll always be here, Y/N,” she said.

“I can’t stay here, Eleanor,” I said slowly. “It’s dangerous for you.”

“That’s rubbish,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’ve lived a full life, Y/N. I’m nearly eighty years old now. I don’t want you worrying about me.”

“If someone catches a whiff of me when my heat hits-”

“We’re too far away for that,” she said.

“God forbid someone sees me and tells my father.” I ignored her. “It’s just not safe, Ellie. Besides, you know how omegas are seen. What happens when people in town find out you’re housing one? Not only will they think less of you, but alphas could come here. And then you’d be caught in the crossfire.”

“Then why’d you come here?” She asked. There wasn’t a hint of anger or annoyance, simply curiosity.

“I dunno,” I said. I furrowed my brows, eyes trained on the table. “I guess I needed some place to regroup. To think things through. I needed somewhere safe.”

“Well,” she said, standing up. “You’re always safe here.” She got up to cover the pie, her lips pursed in thought. “I know you won’t stay long, but whenever you need somewhere to go, somewhere to feel safe again.” She looked back at me, a gentle smile gracing her features again. “You always will be welcomed here.”

Present Day

It was mid day when I woke again.

A fist was pounding at the door, annoyed huffs coming from outside. I lifted my head, confused.

“Dean!” A voice called. It was male, deep but not as deep as Dean’s. I looked over my shoulder at the alpha sleeping behind me, his arm still draped across my waist. I sniffed the air, smelling the scent I had been drawn to just two nights ago, and another, more unfamiliar one. It was similar to Dean’s, but wasn’t as attractive. It was slightly bitter and smelled more like any other alpha I had come across.

Sighing, I rolled out of bed, the alpha grunting at the loss of me under his arm. I smiled a bit at that, picking up his discarded flannel and my jeans. I slipped them on quickly, finishing up the buttons on the flannel as I unlocked the door, opening it a crack.

“De- oh.” The man took a step back, blinking a few times and looking down awkwardly. He was tall, even taller than Dean. His hair was a darker brown than my alpha’s, longer too, nearly to his shoulders. He looked intimidating with his width and height, but his hazel eyes were soft. “Is uh… Is Dean in there?”

I narrowed my eyes, tilting my head a bit. “Who are you?”

“His brother,” he said. “Sam.”

Dean hadn’t mentioned a brother, but now that I thought about it, the alpha in front of me sounded much like the man who Dean had been arguing with at the bar the night before. I swallowed thickly, glancing over my shoulder at the man who was beginning to rouse.

“Oh,” I said turning back to the tall alpha. I looked up to meet his eyes, but they were looking down at me, or rather, my neck. His brows were shot up, eyes wide as they stared at my skin where my hair had fallen away from. My hand automatically raised to hide it, his eyes then flickering to me.

“I… Dean… What…” He stuttered, trying to come up with words. Instead, he clamped his mouth shut, eyes blinking rapidly.

“Sam?” Dean’s voice said behind me. His body pressed into my back, his arm curling around my waist. Sam’s eyes flickered down to where he held me, and then to Dean, and then back to me.

“Okay, what the fuck?” Sam blurted. Dean let out a long sigh, stepping out of the way. He brought me with him, pushing open the door enough for the newcomer to step in.

“Come on, Sam,” Dean said. “We’ve got some explaining to do.”

“Yeah, you think?” Sam asked walking into the room. He automatically flinched, nostrils flaring at the smell of sex and an omega in heat. His head snapped to me, Dean’s arm tightening as a growl ripped from his chest.

“Mine,” Dean snarled, Sam taking a few steps back with his hands outstretched in defense.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said. “Calm down. I’m not going to do anything.”

Dean’s arm tightened even more, his thumb rubbing slow circles on my torso. He stood tall, eyeing Sam warily.

“She’s mine, Sam,” he said.

Sam nodded slowly, giving Dean a confused look. “Yeah, you said that.”

“No. I mean, she’s mine, Sam.” I glanced up at Dean, watching as he tilted his head a bit, pursing his lips.

Sam was puzzled, his face scrunching up. His eyes looked between the two of us, eyes widening when he understood. “Oh, oh. So, like… You mean, she’s your…”

“Yeah,” Dean said.

Sam smiled. He raised his hands a bit, letting them fall back to his sides. “This… This is awesome, Dean! Congratulations!” He looked down at me. “And you, too…”

“Y/N,” I said. His smile widened.

“Y/N.” He took a few steps forward, gauging Dean’s reaction before holding out his hand. “I’m Sam Winchester, Dean’s younger brother.”

I shook his hand, giving him a smile of my own. “Y/N Y/L/N.”

Sam took a few steps back, his nose wrinkling again. I bit my lip to hold back my laugh as he glanced around the room for a moment.

“Look, how about we pack up and we can get back to the bunker,” Dean said. “We’ll meet you at the diner a few blocks down.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, good idea. I’ll see you guys later.” He gave us both another smile, giving the room one last look and bolted from the room, no doubt uncomfortable with the scent of an omega in heat.

“How’re you feeling?” Dean asked, turning to me. His hands cupped my waist, eyes sincere.

“I’m okay,” I said honestly. “A bit dizzy but no pain yet.”

“We don’t have to go eat if you don’t want to. There’ll probably be other alphas there and I don’t want you to be afraid. But, I’ll be there obviously. I’ll protect you.”

I smirked. “I’ve been alone for the past seven and a half years as an omega, Dean. I’ve never needed protecting before.”

“Have you ever been out alone while in heat?” He asked, raising a brow.

“I… Once.” I furrowed my brows, looking away. “Wasn’t a great experience.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, hand tightening. “Did someone…”

“No,” I said looking back at him. “They tried.”

He nodded, leaning forward to kiss my forehead. “Well, you’ve got me now, sweetheart. I won’t let anything happen to you, even if you don’t need my protection.”

I cupped his cheeks, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “What’s the bunker?”

He smiled. “It’s where Sam and I live. It’s like the bat cave.” His lip twisted up into a sour look. “I’ve got a lot of stuff to tell you that you just gotta trust me on.”

I raised a brow. “Okay?” He backed away and turned, picking up his discarded clothes and headed towards the small table where a duffel bag sat. “You said ‘we’. Does that mean I’m coming too?”

He stopped what he was doing, turning his head a bit. “Do you not want to?”

“No, I do. I just… where exactly are we going? Where are you taking me?” He turned to face me fully, a warm, gentle smile on his face.

“Home,” he said. “I’m taking you home, Y/N.”

>> Chapter Three

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@mogaruke, @kittyk26, @waywardsepticeye, @luciferslucille, @cookiecakeslive, @supernatural-strangerthings-1980, @sunnysaysbookreviews, @nyxveracity, @raining-murder, @just-a-supernatural-sister, @thehufflepuffblog, @pisces-cutie, @waywardnerd67, @waywardbaby, @alexwinchester23, @jotink78,  @mersuperwholocked-lowlife, @sandlee44, @ain-t-bovvered, @assassinofmasyaf, @supernatural-crazed-girl, @gh0stgurl, @theenigmaticwordsmith, @docharleythegeekqueen, @choosemyname, @1800-fandoms, @spnskinnyballs, @kcrews74, @adoptdontshoppets, @gh0stgurl, @x-waywardaf-x, @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes, @natura1phenomenon

Jensen/Dean beans:

@dean-winchesters-bacon, @polina-93, @mirandaaustin93, @akshi8278, @sasquatch5, @adoptdontshoppets, @thisismysecrethappyplace, @fangirl-forevers-world, @rawritsmolly, @frozenhuntress67, @ssaaraw, @reginaphalange2403, @x-waywardaf-x, @jessieray98, @thewinchesterchronicles, @cookiechipdough, @tryn25, @yesfictionalboysarebetter,  @angelessquirrel, @ackleholic-hunter

[jiminisjamin]

Wings (Destiel)

Pairing: Destiel

 Requested: Not technically, but I saw one of you on my fics saying you needed one with wing kink. I read y’alls comments- and I deliver.

 Summary: During an outing with the Winchesters, Castiel gets pretty banged up.

 Warnings: So okay this isn’t going to be smutty or anything but it will be implying Dean’s got a bit of a wing kink and stuff.

 Rating: Mid-fluff.

 Word Count: 2,513

 Title: Wings

   Castiel practically collapses onto the chair when they finally reaching the bunker, a low groan falling past his lips as he places his hand on his shoulder, feeling the ache of the battle now that the adrenaline was wearing off.

“I hate demons,” Dean grumbles, tossing his duffle on the table. “They ruin everything.” He grimaces, wiping some grime off his forehead. “I’m gonna go get cleaned up,” he glances back at Sam and Castiel. “You two good?”

“Yeah, Dean.” Sam waves his hand. “Please, for our sake go get cleaned up.” Dean nods, turning his gaze to Castiel.

“Cas? You good?” The only response he can muster is a low, short grunt, and he raises his gaze to Dean. “Uh, dude,” Dean steps forward slowly, shooting Sam a questioning look as he approaches Castiel. “You okay? You look a little…not okay.” Castiel’s eyes flutter shut.

“I’m fine, Dean,” he croaks, “it’s nothing that won’t heal over time.” Dean kneels in front of Castiel, and peers up at him.

“Cas, buddy,” Castiel’s eyes flutter open and he lowers his gaze to Dean. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“It’s fine, Dean.”

“No- no, it’s not. I don’t know about you and your angel buddies, but when one of my friends gets hurt, I help them out. So, what is it? Did you get stabbed? Sliced? Where is it, Sammy and I can stitch you up Cas.”

“It’s not…my body,” Castiel says slowly, “my vessels body.” Dean tilts his head, a confused expression crossing his face. “Every now and then,” Castiel gasps slightly, slamming his mouth and eyes shut. “My wings,” he chokes out, “they were damaged in the battle,” he swallows roughly, leaning his head back against the chair. “It’s nothing that wont heal, Dean.”

“Is there…anything we could do?” Dean offers, glancing over to Sam. “To at least lessen your pain?” Sam shoots his brother an annoyed look at dragging him into this, and then he sees the raw concern on Dean’s face, and watches his brother stand up, placing his hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “Come on, buddy, let me help you.”

Sam scutters over to the table, grabbing the first lore book he finds and holding it in the air. “I actually have to go,” he stutters, “research, get knowledge on more supernatural, uh, stuff- but you have fun with that! I mean, make sure Cas gets better, and stuff- thanks for the offer though, Dean.” Dean barely has time to shoot Sam an annoyed look before he scurries off down the hall.

“Damnit,” Dean murmurs, staring down at Castiel. “Come on, buddy, let’s go patch you up. Would I patch you up? How do I- how do I patch up wings?” Castiel frowns, turning his gaze away from Dean’s questioning stare.

“I don’t require your help Dean, really.”

“Cas, buddy, let me help you. I can’t count the times you’ve saved my ass or healed me without even asking. Let me repay you.” Castiel glances up at his friend, and sighs, shifting slightly and grabbing the armrest for support as he stands up.

“I can’t guarantee there will be any easy way to mend them,” he comments, rolling his shoulders slightly. “I’ve only ever groomed my wings before.”

“Groomed?” Dean repeats, something in his stomach dropping.

“Uh- yes, like, humans with their hair.”

“Like…birds?” Castiel shoots Dean an offended look.

“I don’t peck at my feathers, Dean.” Castiel gives Dean an incredulous look and sighs. Dean turns his gaze to the ground.

“I- I didn’t mean it like that Cas.” His face heats up slightly. “Angels sure are protective over their wings, huh?”

“They’re a part of us, Dean,” Castiel says, shifting awkwardly. “They…they’re important.” He looks away, his jaw clenching lightly. “Which- I have to tell you, before this…before you help me.” Dean’s gaze snaps up to meet him. “M- my uh, wings…they aren’t in the best condition.” He says slowly, “they aren’t at their full…potential anymore. They used to be much more impressive- but, over the years they’ve been damaged. Sometimes beyond repair- but, I just wanted to let you know, because…they didn’t used to look like this.”

“Dude- I don’t care what they look like. I mean, hey, it’s not the condition of the wings, but how you use them, right?” Dean winks, instant regret and shame filling him as Castiel stiffens slightly. “Ah- I’m sorry, I’ll stop making jokes now.” He laughs sheepishly, unable to place the fluttering feeling in his stomach and chest as Castiel moves to unbutton his bloodied shirt. Castiel fumbles with his shirt slightly, eventually getting it unbuttoned and shrugging it off his body. He hangs his head in shame as his shoulders press back slightly, “close your eyes.” He whispers, his voice barely audible. Dean closes his eyes quickly, red filling his vision as the light presses against his eyes, and then it goes dark. Dean licks his lips quickly, tentatively opening his eyes.

Castiel stays in front of him, his wings hanging limply around him, his head still hung, his gaze focused on the ground as his wings curl slightly around himself, dozens of feathers missing, or twisted painfully and close to falling off- some even sliced in half, some look as if they were painfully plucked from his wings. His wings curl more, protectively moving around his body to hide all the other cuts and gashes marring his torso.

“C-Cas,” Dean whispers, moving forward slowly. “What the hell happened to them?” Castiel keeps his head down, not looking up at Dean. “Son of a bitch,” Dean murmurs, his hand reaching out slowly to touch the edge of his wing.

Castiel flinches back, his wings pulling closer to his body. Dean looks down at his now blood coated hand, no possible expression being enough to convey the burning he feels in his chest, his expression stays stoic.

“Castiel,” he murmurs, moving forward slowly. “If I’m going to help you, you have to let me actually…touch your wings.”

“I’m sorry, Dean.” He says softly. “I’m just ashamed.” He looks away. “They haven’t been at their full potential in…years.” He slowly raises his gaze. “I trust you, Dean- it’s just…” when Dean meets his gaze, Castiel looks away quickly, once again staring at the ground. “They’re embarrassing,” Dean frowns, and shakes his head.

“They aren’t, Cas. I don’t even have wings,” he comments softly, reaching out slowly to examine his wings. “You just…you actually fight, Cas. They’re no different from any scars Sam or I have.” He smiles, and pats Castiel’s shoulder slightly. “Come on, buddy. I can’t help you if I can’t get to half of your wings.” Castiel looks down again, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply as he rolls his shoulders, his wings fluttering back and expanding as far as they can, some of the feathers floating to the ground in the process. “Okay, so, do you actually like…wash them? Like, with a washcloth, or…”

“I definitely don’t use a birdbath,” Castiel comments, a small, amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “yes, Dean. A washcloth will do well, I suppose.” Dean smiles, his heart fluttering slightly, and he nods.

“Okay, gotcha…I’ll go get that- and, do you, bandage or wings, or…”

“No, once all the feathers are straightened and removed- the ones that need to be, that is- I let them heal themselves.”

“Okay, cool, cool.” Dean walks away, turning back to look at him, and then nods. “Cool, okay.”

 He heads back over quickly, a large bucket of water in his hands, and multiple washcloths stuck under his arm.

“You sure are prepared,” Castiel comments, his wings shaking out slightly to remove some of the painfully loose and twisted feathers. Dean glances up, setting his loot down on the table and moving over.

“Do I just…pull out the loose ones?” Dean asks, his hand hovering over his wing.

“Yes. Please, be gentle, Dean.” Dean’s face heats up, and he stutters slightly.

“You need to work on your wording, Cas.” Dean mumbles, bending his head down to focus on his task of gently removing any loose feathers, straightening the other ones along the way. Castiel tilts his head, staring down at Dean, his other wing shaking out, causing more feathers to fall to the ground. “Dude, calm down- I’ll get to that one in a second. You don’t want to get them any more twisted than they already are.” Castiel sighs, his wing fluttering again.

“It hurts, Dean.” Dean sighs, gently discarding the feathers to the side as he goes.

“I’m sorry, Cas. I’m trying to go fast. I don’t want to hurt you- I’m being gentle, like you asked.” Castiel grins, looking off to the side.

“Right, right.” He murmurs. “I’m sorry for my impatience- you’re doing me a favor right now,” he whispers.

“Yeah- but I owe you. A lot. You don’t get enough credit around here, Cas.” Dean clears his throat, running his hand over the now cleared patch of silky feathers, and he smiles, moving onto the next spot. “You’re a great fighter- an even better friend.” Castiel smiles softly down at Dean.

“You are too, Dean. You taught me what friendship and love truly means.” Dean’s cheeks heat up at his use of love, and he ducks his head more, pretending to focus more on his task.

“I remember when you first came down,” he comments, “I thought you were an ass- well, you were, but it wasn’t your fault.” Dean frowns. “Those feathery assholes were controlling you. You just needed someone to show you to think for yourself,” he mutters.

“And that was you, Dean,” Castiel’s voice is soft, “you taught me to not blindly follow others.” Dean swallows thickly.

“I’m glad you made that choice, Cas. I don’t know what we’d do if you’d have stayed on their side.”

“But I didn’t. I chose you. Despite the punishments I received, and I will continue to choose you…” His voice trails off, and he coughs lightly. “You and Sam.” He adds, his voice tight. “Of course.”

“Yeah- Sammy too,” Dean stammers. “Not just, me. Not just me and…you, there’s Sammy, and…there was Bobby, Jody…” His voice trails off as he looks up at Castiel, who stares down at him affectionately. “Claire…” He mutters, racking his brain for more people.

“You,” Castiel gentle says, his wide eyes staring into Dean’s. Dean stares back, his eyes wide and expression stuck in a confused state, his eyebrows pulling together.

“You…and me,” Dean whispers, “we make a great team, Cas.”

“We do.”

“You mean everything to me,” he continues.

“I’ve never cared for anything more,” Castiel mutters.

“I- I think…” Dean inhales suddenly, closing his eyes. “Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?” Castiel stares at him expectantly, his head tilting slightly as a soft smile crosses his face. “It’s okay, Dean. You don’t have to say it.”

“You…you know?”

“I know.” He murmurs. “It’s okay, Dean.” Dean sighs, his expression briefly filling with relief, but then he hears the shaking of Castiel’s wing, and his gaze snaps up to him.

“Hey! What did I say, cut it out! You’re gonna hurt your wing, Cas!” Castiel hangs his head in embarrassment.

“Sorry, Dean.” His voice is soft again. “It’s very uncomfortable.” Dean sighs, picking up the speed slightly.

“I’ll try and hurry then,” he murmurs, making note to keep his actions gentle. “I can always admire your wings some other time,” he comments, “if you’d let me see them, that is.”

“Admire?” Castiel whispers.

“Yes. They’re really beautiful, Cas.” Dean smiles. “The feathers are really soft.”

“Thank you, Dean.” Castiel murmurs, his cheeks tinging pink. “I’m glad you like them.” His wing shakes out again, and Dean simply snaps, pointing over at it and muttering a stern:

“No.”

Castiel laughs lightly as Dean steps away, examining the wing at all angles before nodding.

“There,” he says. “Does it feel okay?” Castiel flutters the wing gently, happily looking over at Dean when no feathers fall off.

“Thank you, Dean.” Dean nods and reaches for the wash cloth.

“Do you want me to…clean it also? Then I can do the other one?” Castiel smiles.

“I’d like that, Dean. Only if you want to- I don’t want to bother you too much.”

“It’s not bother, really.” Dean picks up a cloth and dips it in the warm water, moving back over to the wing. “Do I just…squeeze the water over it? Or, brush down like this.” He gently pulls the cloth down Castiel’s wings. Castiel smiles again, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Whichever you’d like, Dean,” he murmurs. “I don’t mind.” Dean grins and nods again.

 “Okay,” he replies, gently washing the slick blood off his wings. “This part shouldn’t take too long.”

  When Dean finishes with Castiel’s other wing, he steps back, grinning. “There you go, buddy.” Castiel shakes his wings out, some random droplets of water flying off them, and he smiles sighing. His wings disappear before Dean’s eyes, and he smiles.

“Thank you, Dean.” Castiel reaches for his bloodied shirt, and Dean reaches out, grabbing his arm.

“Dude, no, that’s dirty.”

“I don’t have any other clothing, Dean.”

“Here, come on,” Dean grabs Castiel’s hand, walking over to his room and digging through his drawers, pulling out one of his flannels. “Wear this,” Dean says, holding the shirt out to him. Castiel sighs, shrugging the shirt on and quickly buttoning it. Dean turns around, his face erupting in a smile. “You look good in flannel, Cas.” Dean laughs, his eyes trailing up and down Castiel’s body. “You should wear more than that trenchcoat,” he says, “expand your wardrobe.”

“I like my trench coat,” Castiel murmurs defensively, following Dean out of his room. They run into Sam on their way out, and he glances at Castiel, his eyes widening slightly.

“O-oh my god,” he laughs, covering his mouth. “Is that Dean’s flannel?”

“Shut up, Sammy.”

“I thought you said you were fixing his wings Dean,” Sam shouts, ducking to avoid the nearest mug that Dean hurls at him.

“Shut up, Sam!”

“I’m glad I didn’t join you two!” He comments, before really thinking. All three of them grimace, any of the previous humor sucked out of the room. “I- I’m just, I’m gonna go,” Sam comments, clearing his throat and turning around. Dean turns to Castiel, his eyebrows raising as he shrugs.

“That was awkward,” he hisses through his teeth, stepping forward and throwing his arm around Castiel’s shoulders. “Let’s go get a drink, Cas.”

“I’d like that, Dean.” He looks over at Dean and smiles, shrugging his arm off and quickly pressing his lips to Dean’s. Dean smiles, his hand going to the back of Castiel’s head. He pulls away quickly, glancing around to make sure Sam didn’t see, and then smiles, quickly kissing Castiel again before grabbing his hand.

“Sam doesn’t need to know yet,” he comments, “I wouldn’t want his head to implode at the thought of eternally being a third-wheel.” Castiel smiles, unsure he gets the reference but appreciating it nonetheless, and follows Dean to the garage.

Liked it? Let me know! It helps me to know what y’all liked, want to see more of, and how I can improve my writing!

Tags: Remember, you can be asked to be added or removed from a tag list at any time!

SPN: @thatshellfiredean , @idixsyncrxsy ,, @ain-t-bovvered , @shows-up-naked-covered-in-bees , @and-we-are-all-dead

  Destiel:  @and-we-are-all-dead​

[trampledcactusboy]

Second Chances

Genderbent Castiel X Male Reader

Y/N’s POV

“Cas, get out of the way!”

I slammed the startled angel into the wall behind me as I shielded her with my body.

I managed to get in one good shot before crumpling to the floor like a loose piece of paper spilling with red ink.

“Y/N!” I heard Dean scream from across the room, heavy and fast footsteps headed my direction.

I slumped back into the soft trenchcoat beneath me, realizing the body in it belonged to none other than the celestial being I had just saved but not having enough strength to prevent myself from falling further into it the more I bled out.

My breaths started to get shallow, a slow but painfully high pitched sound ringing through my ears, blocking out everything else.

It felt like a movie.

It was weird, I always used to think that these moments were so cliche, so overdone and overdramatic.

But now, as my vision blurs and my hands shake with the touch of cold that rushes inot me, I want to laugh at the accuracy I’ve mocked all these years.

I saw everything happening in slow motion.

Perhaps, God just wanted me to remember this well.

Remember the faces of my best friends. Remember the feeling of Castiel’s gorgeous hair cascading down my neck from underneath my withering form. Remember being a ‘hero’, even if it was a short-lived career.

I always had a nagging fear in the back of my mind, telling me I wasn’t really making a difference, telling me that I wasn’t hunting for the right reasons.

But right now, in this moment, that constant voice finally quieted down.

Because I knew, with every organ in my body, every slowing pump of my heart and every ounce of my corrupt soul, that what I just did meant something. It meant something to me.

If saving Castiel’s cute ass was how I was going to go out, then so fucking be it. There could be worse ways to die.

The ringing and slow motion all began to subside when I gasped out for a breath of air, coughing as blood dripped out of the corner of my mouth.

Dean was beside me, trying desperately to close the wound temporarily with some cloth.

Sam was standing above us all, eyes watering and heaving like he was about to have a full blown panic attack.

And Castiel, bless her pure self, was still beneath me, eyes widened and looking straight ahead whilst clutching onto my arms securely.

Her warm, small hands wrapped around my thick biceps in a way I wished would’ve lasted forever.

“Why would you do that?”

I looked over at Dean wearily, not knowing how to respond to such an obvious question.

“DAMMIT, Y/N! SHE WOULD’VE BEEN FINE! YOU DON’T ALWAYS HAVE TO BE THE ONE TO SACRAFICE YOURSELF!”

Castiel’s eyes watered at the sound of the older brother’s shouts resulting in me to rub up circles on her hands that surrounded me to soothe her.

“I didn’t miss…did I?” 

I smiled softly, Sam scoffing at my ability to make any situation lighter.

“You better not die on us, Y/N. I don’t know how I’d explain to Bobby that we couldn’t save you.” Sam’s voice cracked, attempting to hold back sobs.

“Don’t bullshit me when I’m dying, Sam. We both know you just can’t stand the thought of going back to fast food dinners every night.” 

He laughed, tears falling as he did and even Dean had a tight lipped smile slide across his face.

“You’re a great cook.” Castiel whispered, still not looking down at the scene playing out before her.

“Yeah? Be sure to write that exact quote on my tombstone, will ya darlin’?” I coughed out another low laugh.

“This isn’t funny.”  She said, louder this time, finally staring down at me.

Her big, captivatingly blue eyes sparkled with what I knew was tears but convinced myself was her depleting grace leaking through her beautiful vessel.

“Hey now, it’s okay. It’s okay, I’m sorry.” I reached up a hand to caress her flushed cheeks that any other time would be such a vibrant pink.

“You should be. I didn’t need saving.”

Her tone was stern but the waver in the delivery gave away her true emotion.

“I know you didn’t. You’re strong, you never need anyone to save you. I just wanted to show off, you know I can’t resist that disapproving look you give me. It’s sexy.” 

My voice was now horse and weak, volume so shallow I was surprised she heard me.

A tear fell down her face and I wiped it away, smiling up at the angel who had taken over my life since she flew into it three and a half years ago.

“Cas, I…”

My body was shutting down, now. I could sense the drowning within my own self occuring as I tried to swim to the surface, selfishly wanting just a few more minutes with her.

But it seemed as thought my time was up, I had wasted too much of my energy stalling the inevitable that I lost my chance to say what I had been needing to say for much too long.

It felt like fainting, not dying.

And I guess, in a way, I was grateful for that.

I expected something painful and excruciating but wa sgreeted with something of elegance and gentlness instead.I felt trapped inside a pool of complete darkness.

Nothing and no one around me to guide me thrugh whatever I had been sent.

I scratched my head in confusion, not understanding what had happened.

This wasn’t hell.

This certainly wasn’t heaven.

This wasn’t even enough to be considered purgatory.

I wandered around aimlessly, calling out to any that could hear me.

“GOD!”

No answer.

“GOD!?”

Nothing.

“HEY, ASSWIPE! I THINK THERE’S BEEN SOME KIND OF MISTAKE! YOU SEE, I DIED! I NEED SOME CELESTIAL TRANSPORTATION PLEASE!”

I pulled at my hair in fristration before plopping down on the black ground.

Was there somplace besides heaven, hell and purgatory that we hadn’t known of yet?

Was I the first to be brought here?

Were they just holding me here while they decided my fate?

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I spent what I assumed to be centuries sitting in that damned pit of despair, only thing to acompany me being my own thoughts.

Some days I’d cry.

Some days I’d scream.

Some days I’d try to speak with God again.

Some days I’d just lie there and try to remember what clouds looked like.

And some days…Some really rare days…I’d hear Castiel.

Or at least, I thought I did. 

I couldn’t tell if it was actually her or me just going insane from the torturous isolation.

But when I did hear her, I chose not to question it and instead would admire it like a magnificent ballad.

She would say all kinds of things to me.

Usually it’d be about her day with Sam and Dean, never refraining to tell me how she think I would have handled the situation. Other times it was about a movie or show she had seen or even a song or a picture or a skyline or a car, anything that reminded her of me and how much I would’ve enjoyed those simple things from life.

Sometimes, though, she’d get real depressing. I’d spend hours not being able to hear anything other than her crying and it made me feel like I was dying all over again.

These moments, however rare, were a double edged sword.

I loved them but resented them all the same, for I yearned to be with her again, to stroke her hair and hold her close to me and reassure her that everything was alright.

Eventually, I came to terms with the fact that this is where I belonged.

God doesn’t make any mistakes, he’d unfortunately made me quite aware of that during our encounter on Earth.

Why he decided to give me the silent treatment, I had no idea. But I’m sure he put me in here for a reason, and that was something that was easier to find peace in than fight considering I had no legitimate choice in the matter.

I took up mediatation, yoga and even singing to occupy my infinite time.

Sure, it wasn’t the best routine in the world and definitely wouldn’t comfort me forever but it was something and that’s better than nothing at all.

I’m sure the boys and Cas would’ve laughed their asses off at the sight of me prancing around here, stretching, hopping and singing to those stupid songs Dean has gotten stuck in my head after all this time.

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Another two years went by.

Castiel spoke to me a few months ago.

It was shocking, she hadn’t taked to me since a year ago.

I was beginning to think she was gone, that maybe my mind had settled down and I was sane once again.

She informed me that it was New Year’s. She told me of all the things they did to celebrate, how Sam had tried to make it fun and cheerful but her and Dean just weren’t having any of it. How Dean had snapped at the sight of decorations and kicked down the small christmas tree his brother had brought in. She told me how christmas was the same, neither of them bothering to open the gifts Sam had sought out for them in protest of the holiday as a whole. She told me how Sam made a joke about her having a first kiss to egt into the spirit of New Year’s, offering Dean as a pair of lips. The way she described how disgusted she was by just the mere image of that exchange had me smiling to myself in both amusement and relief, even if she was just a figment of my vivid imagination. She told me how she always thought I would have been her first anything, how she didn’t find it possible to even contemplate another person to replace my role. She didn’t verify in any detail on what she meant by ‘role’ so I could only hope she meant what I wanted her to mean by it. 

She ended the converstaion, if I could even call it that, by telling me she was sorry for abandoning me lately. She vented about how guilty she had been feeling because my birthday had come around and the memories of me consumed her like a vicious beast. I wanted to tell her I forgived her. I wanted to let her know I didn’t mind and that i hadn’t even known my birthday had passed, make her aware that time in here was only an abstract construct of my own consiousness. I wanted to tell her to live her life to the fullest, to stop wasting her time on me and start taking Sam’s positive influence as an excuse to forget about me.

After that, I spent the next couple of months concluding a hypothesis I loathed to be true.

I figured that God was behind the lingering voice of his child, my angel castiel.

That he had to of been using my care for her as a cruel form of punishment, forcing me to face the reality of my hurting the ones I loved by the actions I took in my leave.

At first, I was enraged by such a theory but gradually accepted it as a lesser of evils.

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Today marked what felt like the third century.

That’s 300 years for those who don’t know.

I had no watch, of coarse, so I was probably off a good 50 years but whose to say I wasn’t in here for longer than I thought?

I honestly had no clue, and I didn’t strain myself with the stress of craving taht sort of knowledge.

I was jogging around in circles around the vast, endless darkness, clearing my mind when I heard a flutter.

I stopped in my tracks and spun around to see a woman in a grey suit.

She had long, wavy red hair, a pale complexion and navy blue eyes that could have easily been mistaken for black.

I debated speaking to her, not sure if this was another trick from my own head.

She giggled, taking a small step forward.

“I’m as real as it gets, Y/N. Shameful to believe your mind is so weak that it would conjure me up. You should give yourself more credit.”

I tilted my head a bit and furrowed my brows, standing in place.

“Who are you? You dead, too?”

She smiled a scarily happy smile, almost like she was a pushy salesperson trying to sell me some load of garbage.

“I’m no person, Y/N. I’m an angel. God sent me here for you.”

“God sent you here?” I asked in the most ‘I-doubt-that’ tone I could muster.

She simply nodded and I stepped closer to her, scoffing with a fake smile drawn on my lips.

“God’s long forgotten about me, sweetheart. So why don’t you fly on out of here? I didn’t ask for no angel.”

“Oh, but you did.”

I placed my hands on my hips and rose an eyebrow at her words.

“Well, not me. But you did ask for an angel, didn’t you? Have been ever since you landed here.”

“Get to the point, ginger.”

“Why? We have time.” She spoke so sweet but so deviously all at once, pacing around the empty space as she continued her little speech.

“You weren’t brought here on purpose by anyone, Y/N. You brought yourself here…”

She paused in her spot, then stolled back over to me, placing a hand and wacthing as it slid down my chest to the spot where I had been wounded but now looks as if nothing ever even grazed the area.

“When you took a bullet to the chest.”

I eyed her carefully, stiffening under her touch. She snapped her head back up to me, hand resting on my chest.

“How brave you were and yet, how naive. So willing to risk your mortal life over a creature that couldn’t ever understand why you had saved it.”

“Her.”

“Excuse me?”

“She’s not an item, she isn’t an ‘it’. And I don’t care if she knows or not, I chose my fate and I’m not apologetic about it in the slightest.”

Her grin widened as she slipped her hand away from me.

“I’m glad you feel that way. I hope you still have that attitude when you’re in Purgatory.”

“What?” My voice held panic inside it, I didn’t want to leave this place, not anymore.

She began pacing again and she explained herself.

“You know, it’s not often I get to do this type of thing. I’m happy there’s a change in schedule, I was getting quite bored of the same old ‘you get to go to heaven!’ and ‘you’re going to hell!’ bullshit. I was craving something new…”

She spun back around to me, biting her lip.“I guess I owe you a thank you for that.”

“No…wait. There’s gotta be a misunderstanding, I’m supposed to be here.”

“What aren’t you getting here, honey? You were never supposed to be anywhere but the land of prey. You’re meant to be some demon’s dinner. God doens’t have any sacred plans for you. God doens’t even know where you are right now. You think you’re the first to have the plug pulled on ya? You’re nothing special, baby.”

“Plug? What plug? What the fuck are you on about?!”

“Oh dear, you haven’t figured it out yet, have you?”

I just stood there, breathing rapidly at the spinning of an ensuing headache.

“You’re not dead, Y/N. You’re in a coma.”

My breath hitched in my throat and my body went limp.

“Or at least, you were in a coma. But it seems like Sam’s had enough of your dreadful existence. I have to admit, it took longer than I bet on. Gonna lose some good change over this. But dropping you off into a sea of hungry misfits will make up for that.”

“You’re lying. Sam wouldn’t do that.”

“You need some proof? That’s fine.” 

With a wave of her hand to my temple my body jolted and the view of my hospital room came into view.

Sam and Dean were arguing by my bedside, Castiel gripping my hand and not tearing her sorrowful eyes away from my unconscious body.

“YOU CAN’T JUST DO THIS, SAM! IT’S NOT YOUR CHOICE!”

“IT’S TIME, DEAN! HAVEN’T YOU HAD ENOUGH OF THIS CONSTANT SUFFERING? BECAUSE I KNOW I HAVE AND Y/N WOULDN’T WANT IT TO BE LIKE THIS!”

“YOU DON’T GET TO TELL ME WHAT Y/N WOULD HAVE WANTED! NO ONE IS PULLING ANY PLUGS HERE!”

“HE’S NOT GONNA MAKE IT! WOULD YOU RATHER WAIT UNTIL THEN? WOULD YOU RATHER HAVE TO SPEND THE NEXT GOD KNOWS HOW LONG CRYING OVER THE INEVITABLE, HUH?”

“NOT THAT YOU GIVE A DAMN, BUT YES, I WOULD! I PREFER TO HAVE HIM HERE AND YOU’RE NOT DOING HIM ANY FAVORS BY ACTING AS IF HE’S ALREADY GONE!”

“BEING IN A COMA ISN’T CONSIDERED AS BEING HERE, DEAN! SO, YEAH, TO ME HE’S BEEN GONE SINCE WE BROUGHT HIM HERE! START LOOKING AT THE REALITY OF THINGS FOR ONCE!”

“THE REALITY?! YOU GO-“

“ENOUGH!” The brothers looked over in surprise at the yell of an angered angel. 

Castiel stood from her spot, releasing my hand as she turned to face the the hunters.

“Neither of you has the right to dictate what happens to Y/N. you are not God! You will let Heaven decide what is best for him and if either of you-!”

She gulped and took a deep breath in.

“If any of you dares to try and take Y/N away from me…I will not be held responsible for what I’ll do to you.”

Sam’s eyes were wide with fear, Dean’s had relief wash over them at the threat, knowing Sam wouldn’t deny Cas of her wishes.

“Okay…Okay…” Sam stepped one foot forward about to reach out to Cas in comfort but she moved away, not breaking the stare they shared as she did.

She sat back down on the chair beside me and put her hand over mine as the room fell silent.

“You sure you don’t have enough juice in those tinkle toes of yours? Not even a little? Even a drop could go a far way-“

“If I could, don’t you think I would’ve by now, Dean?” Cas growled at the older man, not even glancing up at him.

“Sorry…I know you would’ve. I just miss him.”

“We all do.” Sam confirmed, walking out of the room, an expression of distress from the situation evident on his face. He wasn never able to be around people when times like this arose.

But just as he left, a beeping sounded throughout the small room.

I was flatlining.

Fast.

And there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. 

Castiel started to freak out, latching her hands onto me and shaking me, fisting my hospital gown, stroking  the sides of my face, any sort of contact she could perform she did as she spewed out all kinds of pleas, begging me to stay alive.

Dean was rushing out into the halls, screaming for assistance on the top of his lungs, running back in with nurses and docters as he tried to pull Castiel off of me to no avail.

Sam skidded back in, helping pry Cas away from me into a corner of the room as they watched the workers attempt to revive me.

The image then faded away, my eyes opening to see the redheaded angel in front of me.

“Guess Sam was too little too late, huh? I was really pulling for him.”

My mouth hung open, jaw dropped at the realization that this entire time I could of been fighting. This entire time I should have been searching for a way out. The realization that Castiel wasn’t in my head, but out there visiting me, and I never bothered to put any weight to her words. 

“Sorry, was pulling not the proper word? Too soon?” She snickered as I closed my mouth, swallowing a knot in my throat.

“Oh, have a sense of humor, will ya? Now let’s go, steamboat.”She dragged my arm but I yanked back refusing to move.

“I’m not dead yet.”

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

She tried dragging me again, this time more forceful but again, I yanked back.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Listen, I admire your determination to outlive your own body, I really do. But my job is to send you to your designated place of rest, or lack there of, and you’re starting to test my patience.”

“I’m not even a demon! I’m not a monster of any kind. I don’t belong in Purgatory!”

“Sweetie, every rule has it’s exception, and you’re purgatory’s. Your actions on Earth have been a fair share of both good and evil. When it comes to something like that, the person’s own mind determines their sentence. Normally, being the egotistical maniacs humans are, they all believe themselves to be worthy of Heaven. But you...”

She stepped a bit closer, digging her long nails into my arm.

“We both know you’ve been anticipating this for a long time. You’re ongoing battle against yourself has lead you to this, Y/N. You can’t decide if you’re a man of justice or a man of revenge and because of that you’ve managed to climb you’re way into Purgatory. Where there is no good and bad, no damned and righteous, there is only what you do best… hunting.”

She scratched down my forearm, a long trail of red in the carved marking. I winced and hissed at the pain, using my other hand to shove her down.

She shot up and charged at me, her wings extending out of her back.

She tackled me down, me writhing underneath her as she punched me in the face.I kicked her off of me, her rolling beside me and I stood only to reach down and pluck a handful of feathers from her wings as I returned the favor by bashing her head back into the floor.

She screamed, a scrunched expression of sadness overtaking her from the loss of feathers.

I started to run, to where I didn’t knoe, there really wasn’t any place to go in here, just a never ending blank canvas of black. She didn’t take long to bolt after me, trying to land a few ‘zaps’ at me, thank the lord for my yoga because I was now flexible enough to jump high over the blasts she repeatedly shot at me.

Then, the wildest idea came to me.

If I wasn’t dead, I could still pray to Castiel.

I was such an idiot, how had I not tried this before??

I chuckled distatefully at myself as I lunged, tumbled and glided out of the way of numerous attacks from the mad angel behind me, knowing if this didn’t work I was toast.

This was my last resort.

“CASTIEL!” I shouted as loud as I could, hoping my vigorious effort to get in touch with her would be heard through all the chaos in the real world.

“CAS, PLEASE! I’M HERE! I’M TRAPPED, BUT I’M HERE! CAS, DON’T GIVE UP ON ME! DON’T LET ME DIE, DAMMIT!”

“You’re precious Castiel won’t be able to hear your cries! Stop wasting your breath and give up! You can’t outrun me forever!” 

“CAS, C’MON! I KNOW YOU HEAR ME! JUST LIKE I’VE HEARD YOU!”

A blast of I’m-not-even-sure stung my leg, me limping to the ground as the redhead smirked and sped up to catch me at my weakest.

“I HEARD YOU WHEN YOU TOLD ME ABOUT NEW YEAR’S, CAS! I KNOW YOU DIDN’T KISS DEAN! I KNOW YOU DIDN’T OPEN SAM’S GIFT ON CHRISTMAS AND I KNOW THAT YOU STOPPED THEM FROM PULLING MY PLUG!”

I got up and kneeled over, panting just as the angel pinned me down and wailed me in the face, blood spurting out my nose at the hit.

“I HEARD YOU CRY, CAS! I WAS HERE! I’M STILL HERE AND YOU DON’T HAVE TO CRY ANYMOE IF YOU JUST LET-“

Another harsh blow to me face.

“LET ME OUT OF HERE!”

The angel above me dug a nail into my chest, where I had been shot.

I screamed in agony as she drilled it into me, reaching inside of the now present wound.

“I told you.” She said lowly in a deep voice, twisting her finger inside of me, making me gasp out for air. 

She reached down beside my ear, whispering. “She. Can’t. Hear. You.”

Suddenly, the real world and this one flickered back and forth.

I was overlooking the hospital room one second, seeing the drama unfold as they kept resesitaing me.

Then I was back here, watching an angel stab me with her own hand.

I went back and foth numerous times, like my sou couldn’t decide on where to go, confused on which body it was meant to inhabit.

The entire time, I felt the pain of the bullet all over again, but ten times worse.

Maybe this is what dying actually feels like.

Maybe the first time wasn’t an accurate representation of how this goes.

Or maybe the angel who was currently prolonging my death just to see the life leave my eyes was the cause of this horrific feeling.

Who knows?

All I do know, is that I regret everything now.

I used to think I was okay with how it all ended, how I went out, where I was, all of that shit.

But being in this moment right now, I realize I’m not okay with any of it, not even in the slightest.

I regret allowing myself to get shot so easily.

I regret not telling Castiel how I truly felt when I had the chance.

I regret accepting my presumed fate so quickly.

And most importantly, I regret ever letting myself believe for even a minute that I wasn’t a good person.

Because as I look back on my life, I notice all the great fucking things I’ve done.

I take notice to all the impacts I have made in people’s lives and all the sacrafices I have given for the greater good of humanity as a whole, no matter how unfairly I was ever treated.

I remember all the times I had doubted myself or taken blame for things that weren’t within my control.

I remember all the nights I’d lie awake wondering if I had a purpose.

And lying here now, I know I did.

Because maybe I couldn’t save everyone. Maybe I couldn’t fix the world. But I sure as hell did a lot more than most people, and I’m proud of that.

I’m proud of myself.

And I know my friends are too. I know Sam, Dean and Castiel would agree with me for once. I know Bobby would slap me upside the head for taking so long to come to this ruling about myself. And I know God, wherever he is, never thought any different of me. I don’t need any stupid angel to tell me any of that. So if purgatory is where she wants me to be, let her take me. And let her keep taking me back there each time I claw my way back out, because I’ll be damned if I ever give up on myself.

Not anymore.

Things started to turn white.

Everyone washed away from view until nothing was left but that whiteness.

I felt peaceful.

I felt content.

I felt…A hand?

I opened my eyes, swuinting from the bright light invading my vision.

I blinked a few times to adjust into focus.

The ceiling was white.

The ceiling…was white.

Since when were there ceilings in purgatory?

“Didn’t know purgatory had interior designers. Who the hell redecorated this place?” I muttered under my breath.

I then looked down to discover the hand I had felt was holding mine.

A soft, smaller, feminine hand.

“Y/N?”

I glanced up at the most stunning sight I had ever seen.

Castiel, with freshly tinted cheeks and wet tear stains covering the bags under her crystal eyes, looked at me from beside my hospital bed.

“Cas.”

She leaped onto me, her body devouring mine in a hug full that reeked of need.

I slowly wrapped my frail arms around her as she buried her face into my neck.

I felt her take a strong whiff of my scent and smiled to myself at the cute gesture.

I rubbed circles into her back, thriving in the moment of being back, it honestly kicking in at a very steady rate.

I couldn’t help but to wonder why I was back.

Last I knew, my destiny was sealed by a bitchy redhead.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I wasn’t thankful enough for you.” She whsipered into my skin.

“Don’t be ridiculous. No need to be sorry. I shouldn’t of been so impulsive like that.” 

“No. You saved me.” She pulled back, hands around my neck as she hovered above me. “You’re my hero. Even if you are stupid.”

I let out a raspy laugh, a smile etching across her face at the sound.

And that’s when I understood.

‘You’re my hero.’

That’s why I’m back.

I had finally made up my opinion of myself.

I decided I was a good man and that I was worthy of much more than the ending I was given.

I decided that I was meant to do more in this world.

And because of that, because of me seeing myself for the ‘hero’ I am, God has given me another chance at a better fate.

“Yeah. Yeah I am.” I smiled back, running the back of my hand down her cheek as she leaned into it.

“I was wondering…” She looked down hesitantly, leaning back into her seat.

“Yeah?”

“What were going to tell me? Before you…” She trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence.

I stared at her in confusion, not connecting the reference.

She just waited for me to answer, knowing I was trying to remember what she meant.

“Oh.” I breathed out, my hand falling from her and onto my lap.

“I was going to say…”

Her face held anticipation and nervousness within it, my teeth knawing on my inner lip.

I was given another chance. I can’t waste it.

“I love you, Cas. And I don’t mean as a friend or a partner or family. I mean I love you. With every part of myself.”

She took in a breath, holding it for a few seconds.

And, man, those seconds felt like hours to me as my anxiety built on her response.

“I love you as well, Y/N. I thought you always knew of this.”

“Wait, what?”

“I was told humans can be oblivious to the natural sentiment that occurs between ones who share a deep attraction both spiritually and sexually due to denial and or simplicity being as…how does Dean say it? ‘Ignorance is bliss’? But I just always assumed you were not one of these humans being as you’re-“

I sat up and moved toward the rambling brunette, pressing my lips against hers lovingly.

She didn’t reciprocate the kiss and I chuckled against her lips, pulling back just a little bit.

“You talk too much. Now follow my lead.” I mumbled, her nodding in return and finally kissing back with so much emotion I thought I was going to go into another coma.

Her devotion felt like warm silk surging through me. It was almost like reading her mind, but with no words. It was wonderful.

We pulled apart and I sat back against my pillow with a dreamy sigh.

“So where’s the boys?”

“Uh-Uh-Uh-“

I laughed at her stuttering, entwining our hands together and squeezing.

“They went to go call Bobby, update him on your stability status. Or what was your stability status.”

“Perfect! When they come in here act like nothing happened. I’m gonna pretend I’m still in a coma and jump scare those sons of bitches.”

“I know I have professed my love to you but that doesn’t mean I want to be involved with your twisted ‘pranks’.”

“Wow, nice to know my girlfriend doesn’t have my back. And after I took a bullet to the chest for your angelic ass.”

I rolled my eyes teasingly, pulling her on top of me and nuzzling my nose against her temple.

“Girlfriend?”

“Do you not want to be?”

“No, I do!” 

I leaned back slightly looking up at her with an amused expression at her immediate reply.

“Relax yourself, eager beaver. I know you do.”

I pecked her nose with a light kiss and she snuggled into me.

“Ow, ow, ow. Careful with the bullet wound, there.”

“Well maybe now this will be a warning to not be an idiot.”

My chest vibrated with a rorar of laughter.

“Point taken, snarky. Next time I’ll just let you take the hit. I’d rather see you in this gown, they don’t have any backs you know.”

She picked her head up to glare at me, inches away from my own face.

“You’re impossible.”

“Impossible not to looove apparently.” I mocked, booping her nose with my pointer finger.

“For once, you’re not wrong.” 

She locked our lips in a kiss, one of her hands combing through my slightly overgrown hair.

As we let the kiss end and she cuddled me, I hummed to her before stopping.

“How long have I been in here?”

“Four months.”

“That’s it?!”

“How long did you think it had been?”

“Like…300 years?”

“Don’t you think that’s a little absurd, Y/N?”

“You know what’s absurd? The fact that I’m going to be spending the next four months up your butt to make up for my absence.”

She lifted herself up, elbows on my shoulders and hands holding her head.

“Up…my butt?”

“It’s an expression, honeybee.”

Her face was unreadable so I continued.

“Unless you don’t want it to be.”

She blushed immensely, flicking my nose.

“Hey! What was that for!?”

“Dean said if you ever got fresh with me to do that.”

“How do you even know what fresh means!?”

“I’ve learned a lot while you were asleep, Y/N. You’d be surprised.”

“Oh yeah? Well about you surprise me some more then, huh? Spill the beans, kiddo.”

“Well, for one, I understand that saying.”

She went on for the next three days updating me on all the winchesters had taught her in the past four months.

She even revealed some information “the pizza man” had taught her.

And you best believe I put that one to the test.

Let’s just say the pizza man is quite the teacher.

[emptywithout]

The Way You Breathe (part 16)

Sam’s Spell

Word count: 2839

Warnings: Sam’s in pain, Dean is sad and feels bad.

Wincest warnings: kissing, touching, other sweet stuff.

Sam had a fitful night. The earlier pain pill had helped, but he woke up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat. Dean immediately woke up and pulled Sam close to him.

“Bad dream?”

Sam breathed quickly. “Yeah. And it hurts. The pain is back.”

“Hang on a sec, ok?” Dean went to get a washcloth and held it under the cold water. He wrung it out and came back next to Sam. He wiped away the sweat and tears and smoothed back his hair, wiping gently.

“It’ll be ok Sam. I’m here. I’m not leaving you again. I promise.” Dean gave Sam another pill and a full glass of water, which Sam took gratefully.

Dean crawled up beside him, resting his head on the pillow next to Sam, so their eyes met. He ran his fingers through Sam’s damp hair.

“Need you, D’n,” Sam said slowly, letting out a deep breath. They lay there for a while, Sam trembling, Dean reassuring him with soft kisses and gentle touches.

Not much was said between the two of them. They were tired, it was the middle of the night, and Sam hurt. Dean just felt bad. They held each other for a long time, stroking each other’s skin. Sam continued to tremble under Dean’s touch.

Dean couldn’t resist the pull. It was almost as if Sam’s skin sucked him in. He bent his head down and began to nibble and kiss Sam’s neck. Sam moaned softly.

“Feel good Sammy? Does my touch help you?” Dean’s voice was almost like a drug. Sam shivered underneath his brother, his body sagging into the mattress.

Sam sodded sleepily. “Yeah, De. You make me feel good.”

Dean smiled into Sam’s cheek. “I’m so glad baby. I’m never going to stop, ok?”

“Yeah D’n. Never stop. I want your hanns…on…me…” Sam’s words began to slur as the pain meds kicked in. Dean rubbed his hands up and down Sam’s arms very gently, kissing the soft spot under Sam’s ear.

Eventually, Sam stopped shaking, his eyes closed and he drifted off.

Dean watched his brother, face covered in bruises, slowly fall asleep. He watched his breathing change into a slow, easy rhythm. It was another hour before sleep finally took Dean.

**

Dean dreamed about rescuing Sam. He charged in, killing everyone in sight. He untied Sam and carried him off in his arms. He got there before they broke his ankle, before they stabbed his shoulders. He killed everyone. He saved Sam.

He awoke in a cold sweat. Terrified. He wasn’t a hero. Sam was hurting because of him. Because of what he did.

**

Sam slept through the rest of the night. Dean was grateful that Sam finally got rest.

When he woke up, he looked right at Dean. Dean was sitting next to him on the bed, once again watching him sleep. Dean’s fingers were brushing through Sam’s hair.

“Morning, D’n” Sam said sleepily.

Dean smiled. “Mornin’ Sammy. How do you feel today?”

Sam sighed and pushed himself up on the bed, wincing as he moved. “Much better. Still sore. Fucking ankle and this gash on my stomach, mostly. Everything else is better. Just tired and sore.”

Dean was relieved. “I’m so glad to hear that baby.” Dean leaned in close to Sam. “This ok?” he whispered. Sam merely nodded. Dean’s slow kiss was gentle and soft. He leaned back and smiled.

“Now I’m even better,” said Sam.

~~

“Come here Dean.” Sam pulled his brother close, trying not to aggravate the wounds on his shoulders. “Help me up, please.”

They had been lying in bed together for an hour or so. Just talking, snuggling, touching. Dean was so thankful to have Sam back, and Sam was just happy to have Dean hold him, help him heal. He really did feel better in Dean’s arms.

Dean gripped his brother’s arms tightly but carefully, and helped Sam to sit up. But Sam wanted to keep going. He motioned for Dean to help him stand.

“Are you sure?”

Sam nodded.

“Ok, I’m right here though, ok? I won’t let you fall.” Sam nodded again.

Grimacing in pain, Sam stood all the way up. He was a little wobbly on his feet, as his ankle was in a cast, and he had to keep all of his weight on his right foot – and Dean.

“You ok?”

Sam nodded, but tears were starting to fall.

“Oh Sammy. I’m so sorry.” Dean pulled Sam into a gentle hug, avoiding his shoulders. Sam practically melted into Dean’s embrace. Being in his brother’s arms again felt wonderful. He truly felt safe and protected. Like he belonged there. Dean held him close, running his fingers over the back of Sam’s neck. Sam shivered at the touch.

Sam sniffled. The pain was coming back in waves, but he didn’t say anything about it to Dean. He tried to stay upright, but the pain was knocking him off balance.

Dean pulled his brother tighter into his embrace. Sam closed his eyes, and let the feelings of comfort and safeness wash over him. Having his brother hold him was the only thing he wanted right now.

That and to have the pain go away. He couldn’t hold himself up anymore and sagged in Dean’s arms.

Dean caught the weight of his brother before he crumpled to the floor.

“Sammy?”

“Dean, I’m sorry, I can’t…it hurts too much. I…I shouldn’t have done that. I just…I just wanted to hold you a bit. Really hold you. You make me feel safe. But I can’t…” Sam looked ashamed.

Dean frowned and set Sam down gently, wiping away the tears that were falling. He helped Sam get adjusted on the bed and gave him a pain pill.

“Here you go Sam, this will help. You’ve waited long enough.” He sat on the table in front of the couch and smoothed back Sam’s hair. Sam closed his eyes at the feel of his brother’s touch, sighing.

“I make you feel safe?” Dean couldn’t hide his smile.

Sam’s eyes stayed closed as Dean continued to pet Sam’s hair, and softly stroking his cheek.

Sam breathed out a soft, “Yeah. It’s that…thing we have. It feels a little stronger. Maybe because I’m in so much pain. But you being with me, by my side. Touching me. I just feel stronger. More alive. Know what I mean?”

“Yeah Sam. I know exactly what you mean.” Dean stroked Sam’s cheek.

“I’m so glad I can do that Sammy. I’m just sorry I couldn’t protect you that night. Or get you home any earlier. But I’m going to make up for all of that, ok? I’m going to make sure you get better real fast. And take the pain away as best as I can.”

Sam nodded, opening his eyes and blinking slowly.

Dean helped Sam to turn his body and lower his head to the pillow and covered him up with the blanket. “You wanna go back to sleep for a bit? Why don’t I go make you some soup and wake you up in a couple of hours, ok? Sam agreed quickly.

“Yeah.” Sam swallowed, closing his eyes.  “Just standing up tweaked my stomach wound and I’m exhausted.”

“Yeah. Too much, too soon. Hey listen. I’m gonna wait until you fall asleep, and then I’m gonna go talk to Bobby about what to do next.”

Sam nodded again, “Yeah ok, Dean.” Dean lay next to Sam, running his fingers through his hair again. He whispered gently, “I’m here Sammy. Not going anywhere. Always gonna be with you now. Always gonna protect you forever. I promise, little brother. I will keep you safe.” Dean continued to whisper promises in Sam’s ear, breathing into his neck. Sam closed his eyes, leaning into his brother’s touch, and fell asleep soon after.

“I’ll be back Sam. I’m right on the other side of this door, ok?” He leaned forward and gently kissed Sam on the forehead. He tucked the blankets in around him and walked out into the front room, closing the door behind him.

**

Ellen and Bobby were sitting at the kitchen table when Dean walked in.

Bobby stood up and walked over to Dean. “How is he? He sleep ok?”

Dean nodded.

“Yeah, he had a nightmare and I had to give him a pill at like 1 in the morning. We’ve been up a while, actually. He just went back to sleep for a bit.”

Dean went to join them at the table, stopping for a glass of whiskey on the way. Booby noticed his choice of drink but didn’t say anything.

“Any news about anything else?”

“Nothing about Jo, no.”

“And are we going after the demons that took Sam?”

Just then, there was a knock at the door.

“You expecting anyone, Bobby?” asked Ellen, pulling her gun out.

“Nope.” All three hunters drew their guns, walking to the front door. Bobby yanked it open.

No one was there.

“Son of a bitch!” yelled Dean. He bent over and picked up a white envelope.

**

Dean,

I bet you’re wondering why I’m writing to you again. I bet you thought it was all over? Let me assure you, you are still under my control. I’m still watching. I may have returned Sam, but I can guarantee you it is not the same Sam that we took from you.

You still have things to do for us. And I’d watch Sam if I were you. Those cuts on his shoulders? Stab wounds. But I think you knew that. Spell work. We’ve infused Sam with something special. I’m not sure when it will take hold, but probably soon. Then he’s going to do everything I want him to do.

I’m sure Sammy has told you about me? Oh yes. Sweet Sammy is going to be mine.

All you need to do is take care of him. Help him heal. You specifically, Dean. It needs to be you.

Remember, we are watching. I can still kill him. Even from here. You won’t be able to stop me. All I have to do is chant six little words and your brother drops dead.  You won’t see it coming and you can’t stop it. It’s a powerful spell.

So just do what we ask you to do.

Your only job now: keep him healthy and strong. Help him heal. Don’t let him leave the house. I’m sure these instructions are easy enough to understand.

Ciao

**

Dean had read the letter aloud. And everyone was at a loss for words. Dean shoved the letter into Bobby’s hands. “I’m gonna go check on Sam.” He practically ran to the bedroom, and flung open the door.

Sam stirred in his sleep when the door was opened. Dean looked at his brother sleeping and took a deep breath. He clenched his teeth and swallowed. Sam squirmed a little on the bed, and Dean was afraid he was in pain again.

He paused, thinking. How was he going to keep his brother safe if she could just kill him from anywhere? Dean felt helpless. He sank to his knees in the doorway. His fault. This was all his fault. And how did she know? How did she know what he did? Has she been watching them this whole time? More than ten years? He allowed himself a minute, breathing deeply, then steeled his resolve and stood up.

He’d have to tell Sam what he did.

~~

As Dean walked back in the room, Ellen was answering her phone.

“Yes? Hello? Oh my god, Jo! Sweetie are you ok?”

Everyone in the room was immediately on high alert. They all stared at Ellen, who was starting to cry. They could only hear this side of the conversation, but they listened carefully.

“Yes, yes. I did! I know, are you…how did you get out?  Uh-huh…. Yes, he is, I’m sorry… I don’t know yet, Jo. No…Are you…? Yes! Actually he’s here, he’s pretty banged up. Sleeping now.  When can I…you’re going to what?  No…come to…no, come to Bobby’s first, ok? Please? Ok, honey I love you, I’m so glad you’re ok! Uh-huh…bye, sweetie.” Ellen hung up and collapsed onto the couch.

“She’s ok!” Tears of joy fell down her cheeks as everyone took turns giving her hugs.

“Is she coming here?”

“Yes. She has a lot to share with us when she does, too. She…said she knows who took Sam and she knows where they are. She’s gonna help us get to them.”

“How does she –“ Bobby instantly had doubts.

“Does it matter?” yelled Dean. “She knows! She’s ok, she’s coming here, and she can help us get the sons of bitches that did this to Sam!”

“Yeah, ok Dean. Ok. Just seems a little too good to be true.” Bobby crossed his arms and frowned.

Dean looked at him questioningly.

“Well, it’s all just too easy, isn’t it?” Bobby rubbed his hand down his beard.

“It might be, but right now, we’ve gotta trust that this is just going to be the break we need. All the other stuff doesn’t even matter. Right?” Dean’s voice was desperate.

“Ok Dean. We’ll just see what she tells us, ok?”

**

On the other end of the phone Ruby hung up and smiled. “I think I did a pretty good job, don’t you? Made myself sound just like you, didn’t I, pretty girl?”

Jo’s eyes were wild as she thrashed in her restraints. She was bound and gagged, her arms tied behind her.

“I don’t think I need to hurt you too much sweetie. Just enough to get Sam to finally use his powers. Once he knows I have you, he’ll think I’m going to do the same to you as I did to him. He’ll do whatever I ask. For now, no one knows.” Ruby’s black eyes gleamed as she pulled out a large knife. “But I am going to hurt you a little. What fun would it be if I didn’t?”

She put the knife to Jo’s arm and pulled down, making a thin crimson line appear. Jo screamed in pain, terrified of what was going to happen next.

“They think you’re on your way. No one is going to come looking for you yet. Just sit tight, and have some fun.”  She pressed the knife to Jo’s throat and whispered, “sanguinis pura et sanguinem malum - invocate eum.” Jo swallowed, afraid to move. Ruby drew her knife across Jo’s throat - just a very small amount. Just enough to draw a small line of blood. Jo began sobbing, tears falling from her eyes.

“And when he knows?” Ruby smiled, tightening her grip on the knife, looking off into the distance. “When he knows, he’s gonna do the spell.  Finally. After all this time. It’s perfect. He won’t even know he’s doing it.” Her eyes flicked black again and Jo flinched.

“Sam’s Spell is gonna change everything.”

**

Sam sat bolt upright up in bed. He was covered in sweat and panting. “Jo!” he screamed.

Dean ran in from the other room and pulled Sam close. Sam was gasping, “She – she’s in danger Dean. She’s hurt!”

“No Sam, it’s ok. It’s ok. She called us. She’s coming home. She’s ok.”

“No. No. She what? She called?”

Dean nodded. Yeah Sam, she called earlier while you were asleep before. She’s coming back here.” Dean stroked Sam’s hair, trying to get him to calm down.

“No. No, she’s not, Dean. I feel it. I know it. I think…I think Ruby might have her.”

“Ruby? Are you sure?”

“Yeah Dean. I heard her. I felt her call to me. And…and I heard Ruby, too. She said she hopes I can hear this.”

“Hear what?”

“I think she wants me to hear Jo. Or maybe to hear her. I don’t know. But I don’t think she’s done with me Dean. I’m not safe yet. I’m not…not…not…safe.”

“Shh, it’s ok Sam. I’ll. Lemme go get everyone and we can figure this out.” He left Sam alone, grimacing and sweating, panic all over his face.

In the other room, Dean explained to them Sam’s dream, or vision, or connection, or whatever it was. Ellen turned pale.

“But…it was her voice…”

“Sam says it was Ruby trying to sound like Jo. Demons can do that, you know.”

“Well what the hell do we do now?”

“Now it’s my turn,” said a voice from behind them. They turned and saw Sam leaning against the doorframe, pale and sweaty. He stood on his right foot, having hobbled from the bed on his broken ankle. “I think I know how to find her. The demons want me, not her. But we’ve got to get to her. Faasssst.” Sam’s last word came out slurred. His eyes rolled back in his head and he crumpled to the floor.

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