#Poor Sam. That's the stance of a man that's exhausted from years of dealing with this adult toddler. Someone get Sam a cig stat.

[downtherabbitholewithlucy]

Sam, Wes is trying to get your attention. Why aren't you acknowledging this crazy fool?

He's like trying really hard.

[the-omni-princess]

Toys and Flowers

Author: @the-omni-princess

Summary: Insecurities and some badly written jokes can hurt, especially when they come from family. (Intrusive thoughts TW)

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.2K (It got away from me whoops)

Prompt:

“I am not a toy you can play with when you’re bored or lonely or horny. I am not the girl the guy gets at the end of the movie. I am not a fantasy. If you want me, earn me.” - Scandal

Warnings: Angst, Insecure reader, language, intrusive thoughts, unintentionally negative comments, Avengers kinda acting like dicks but they didn’t realize it, also a splash of anxiety, a happy ending I promise, Fluff

A/N:

A little bit of self-fulfillment whoops. Still new at this so please tell me what you think.

This sorta thing comes from my own experience with these thoughts, so I’m sorry if it doesn’t quite fit someone else’s. Anyway, if you’re having negative thoughts, like our dear reader, please go speak to someone. I made this way more angsty than I originally intended.

Prompt is bolded.

Written for @sunmoonandbucky

and their #1.5kconstellationswritingchallenge :D

[Read on Ao3!]

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You were fed up. This had been going on for too long, going around and around in circles for too long. Jokes you could deal with. Insecurities brought to the forefront, teasing, crude one-liners, snide comments. When they came from strangers or from people you never necessarily liked you could deal with them. But when they came from the people you considered family? They hurt, and they hurt severely. Every comment, every glance, every joke sent a searing pain down your chest.

You knew it was most likely in good fun, after all, the Avengers were known to always toss quips at each other. They called Sam and Clint Birdie, teased Steve and Bucky about being old, and there was always some form of ribbing against Vision when he didn’t understand a meme despite being the literal embodiment of the internet. Yet despite all that, every joke that was aimed at you hurt you more than you care to admit.

Thwack. Thump. Every hit of your fists against the punching bag did little to help the anger in your chest, the anxiety, the hurt. Fighting back tears, you tried to block out the voices in your head reminding you of every joke you heard the others say as you kept hitting the bag. You thought you were overreacting, but then another jest meant to just be a poke in the ribs felt like a knife made of fire being pushed into your heart.

Sweat rolled down your back, it prickled at your neck, and you weren’t sure if the wetness on your cheeks was tears or sweat anymore. Sniffling, you paused, wiping your hot face with a towel, and downed half of your remaining water bottle. You sighed, fanning yourself with the towel, not that it helped the sweat clinging to your grey t-shirt or your gym shorts very well.

More comments swirled in your head, anxiety that you weren’t good enough to be an avenger started to creep back into your head, so you tossed the bottle and towel back to the ground and resumed punching. The comments were bad, but they were manageable. At least you thought so. Until a certain super-soldier, who you most definitely had a crush on, started to join in. You were happy he was starting to open up, but when his teasing started to join Sam’s the pain in your chest grew, along with the wall you built around yourself.

Burying yourself in paperwork, reports, and training, you did everything you could to not be in the Compound’s living room when you knew everyone else was there. You even tended to your outhouse garden more often than usual. Those thoughts are what brought you here, to the gym, to punch the shit out of a punching bag for the third time that day, instead of upstairs eating dinner with the rest of the team. It was too late to be out in the garden, your fairy lights you recently bought not fully installed yet, you were weeks ahead of paperwork, and there hadn’t been a new mission to report recently so your last hope was the gym.

Natasha was the first to notice your absences after you repeatedly started to miss dinners with the team and refused to say anything to her about it. “Has anyone seen Y/N today?” She suddenly questioned in the middle of dinner that Friday night, another dinner you were spending in the gym. Eyes all looked towards the redhead, as they started to realize you weren’t there again.

Tony was the first to speak up, sipping away at his drink “Passed by her on the way here, said she was heading to the gym.”

Steve was the next person to speak, hands fiddling with his fork, “But I saw her this morning at the gym, it was really early, and she seemed to tire herself out, why would she go back there so soon?”

Wanda then spoke up, “Her mind has been clouded recently, she blocks me out mentally, but she is blocking us all out as well.”

Sam gave her a confused look, unaware of what was the problem, “Why would she do that?”

“Because you idiots keep making fun of her,” Natasha snapped. She had seen the way you closed yourself off from a conversation the second a joke landed a low blow in your self-esteem. An off comment that maybe the new gal needed more training after she missed a shot during a mission. A quip about something new you were trying. Natasha noticed that not every joke had sent you spiraling, that most you were used to, and some truly were funny enough that you didn’t care, but she also noticed how close you had been to tears as you quickly excused yourself to your room after Bucky teased you the day prior.

Wanda looked up from her plate towards Natasha, the gears in her head practically visible as she connected the dots. “The boys’ comments and jokes about her fuel her anxiety!” She suddenly declared, and the room quickly silenced.

Sam’s eyebrows lifted, almost comically, “But she knows we are just having fun, right? We don’t mean any of it seriously, after all we make fun of the Olsen Twins for their age all the time, and Tinman for being slow.”

“Doesn’t mean the comments don’t hurt,” Bucky put his head in his hands, his own mind quickly filling in the blanks, finally noticing that the emotions in your face as you shuffled out of meetings and movie nights after a joke was betrayal and pain. He was quite acquainted with what pain looked like, and still he managed to miss it in you, though in hindsight he saw it now. The light leaving your eyes as Tony aimed a joke at you, your responding smile never reaching your eyes, your laugh sounding almost fake and forced before you practically sprinted towards your room muttering some excuse about being behind on mission reports.

“From what I’ve been noticing, not all the teasing seemed to affect her, but perhaps you were being a bit harsh on her when you said she needed more training after that mission last week Sam, or the comment about shirt yesterday Bucky,” Clint finally spoke up, having quietly observing everything from his spot on the windowsill couch.

“I was trying to compliment that shirt!” Bucky tried to defend, only to have Natasha snicker.

“’That’s an interesting choice’ is not a compliment,” Natasha glared at him, making him groan as he realized he had been acting like an ass towards you this entire time. “You know this all explains a lot, especially how she looked like she was seconds away from crying when Buckaroo here made some joke at her.” The man in question looked up, equal parts confused and upset. He had made you cry? Why would some joke, one that Sam had already said that didn’t elicit a response, get such a negative one when it came from him? Natasha snickered again, this time because Bucky looked like a kicked puppy. “You haven’t noticed oldie? Poor girl has had a crush on you practically since the moment she met you two years ago.” His heart stopped, then promptly dropped down into his stomach. He was making the girl he liked miserable and he didn’t even know it.

“You didn’t notice Bucky?” Wanda expressed almost remorse as she saw clouds of regret swirling in his head. “The extra cookies she hides away specifically for you, the coffee always ready for you in the morning, the small blushes when you look at her, the smile that lights up her face the second you actually compliment her?” The redhead was listing off the reasons he started to fall for you. The sweet girl, way too good for the world, for him, and the fiercest warrior out on a mission. You had missed that shot because Bucky’s cover would have been blown if your aim had been true. You had taken metaphorical bullets for him multiple times, always the first to defend him whenever someone came after him, especially whenever Ross or some Hydra goon started to monologue him on his past.

Shoving himself from the table, Bucky quickly stood, “I have to go fix this,” he muttered, mostly to himself, already rushing to the gym to find you.

“She’s stubborn, it’s not going to be that easy Bucky!” Steve tried calling out to his best friend, well aware of how Bucky felt about you. His comment fell on deaf ears and Bucky sprinted to the gym where you were still trying to lose yourself to your moves.

Jaws clenched, you kept swinging at the bag in front of you. You were tiring out, your exhausted mind probably catching up with your fatigued body. The gym door behind you swung open, making you jump, wide eyes locking onto a frantic looking Bucky. He looked disheveled, and you noticed his erratic breaths as if he ran here.

Suddenly hyper-aware of your own dishevelment, your body sweaty and tired from working out, you tried to make yourself smaller; quickly turning back to the bag, you swung at it again with new found energy. “What’s up, Buck?”

You could practically feel his eyes burning holes into the back of your head. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was soft, and, dare you to say it, pained. Your hands fell from the punching stance you had them up in, turning to face him with a puzzled look.

“Whatcha mean Bucky? What didn’t I tell you?”

“The intrusive thoughts Y/N… how much my comment about your shirt actually hurt you, really how many of the comments or jokes I made towards you hurt you.” Your body froze, completely caught off guard by him cornering you.

Feeling a bit petty and standoffish, you mustered your best death glare, though it no doubt probably did nothing towards the ex-assassin, “Why would I tell you?” Swiftly turning to grab your discarded water bottle and towel you muttered under your breath, “Why would I tell any of you?”

“Because we’re your family Y/N/N” he responded softly. Damn super soldier hearing. Chancing a glance towards him, you could see his hunched shoulders, his hands fidgeting with the end of his shirt.

His anxious body behavior only fueled you on, suddenly wanting to get out of this conversation as fast as possible yet wanting to confirm every negative thought in your head, you practically snarled at him. “Family don’t hurt each other… they shouldn’t hurt each other.” You whispered the last part, unexpectedly frozen where you stood.

You couldn’t look up at his face, fully aware he probably had some cute puppy dog look aimed your way. You couldn’t stand those looks, you knew your resolve would melt instantly if you looked towards them. His silence somehow hurt more than you thought it would. Your body finally getting with the idea of running from this, you turned away again, heading towards the door.

“Doll…” Bucky started, clearly, about to go on some tangent, you stopped him.

“No doll Bucky. I’m used to the comments… strangers, co-workers even, definitely kids when I was younger… I just thought they would stop eventually, along with these thoughts in my head, guess that was naive of me to think that.”

“Y/N please don’t do this, please, just let me explain. Fuck I didn’t mean those comments like that, Y/N, I tried to say it as a compliment. God, I really like you, and I’m terrible at speaking whenever you come around, and I didn’t mean it like the way it came out doll,” You didn’t hear him move, you just abruptly felt his hand around your wrist.

Pulling it back towards your body as if his touch burned you, you spun on your heels to face him. Rash and hotheaded as always, your words came out like venom aimed straight towards the man in front of you, “I am not a toy you can play with when you’re bored or lonely or horny. I am not the girl the guy gets at the end of the movie. I am not a fantasy. If you want me, earn me.” You were too quick with your harsh words to realize the full weight of his words, only reacting blindly to the hatred your mind had been building towards yourself and lashing it out towards Bucky. He looked as if he had been slapped in the face by your words. The truth was, you did like the pet names, especially from him, especially when they were on the back end of his praise for you when training or after a particularly good mission. However, your need for a punching bag or the need for these thoughts to not be focused on you for once, made you throw them at the one person in this entire compound you wanted to hurt the least.

You scrambled towards the door, trying to bite back your tears and keep your resolve. You didn’t look back as you rushed towards your room, knowing that if you took one look at the heartbroken man you left standing at the gym, you would sob at his feet. You shut the door behind you promptly sliding to the floor in your room, your back against the door. “FRIDAY, don’t let anyone in. For anything.” You called out, knowing the AI would catch it.

“Are you sure Ms. Y/L/N? My sensors are indicating your elevated heart rate and erratic breathing, it is recommended for me to contact Mr. Stark or the Med Bay.” The AI dutifully replied, making you cry out. You put your head in your hands, feeling the wetness of your cheeks, making you realize you were already crying. When did that happen?

“No! Please FRIDAY, please don’t let an-anyone in… Please. I don’t want them to see me like this.” Your speech slurred faintly, sniffling as you tried to get a hold of yourself. You just felt weak, too drained to shower or eat or even pull yourself from the floor you currently were residing. As your thoughts finally slowed you exhaled shakily, the anxiety and intrusive thoughts gone, leaving a blank mind except for a startling realization to what Bucky said before you snapped. “God, I really like you.”

You weren’t sure when you had fallen asleep, but considering the light hitting your eyes from the window, you figured it must have been a while ago. You shuffled to get comfortable in the sheets around you, desperate for a few more minutes of the nothingness of sleep. Wait… when did you go to bed? Hadn’t you fallen asleep on the floor? You sat up quickly, ignoring the burn in your eyes at the sudden light change as you surveyed the room. “FRIDAY? How did I get to bed last night?” You asked carefully, truthfully scared of the answer.

“Mr. Stark used his override code to enter your room shortly after you fell asleep. Sergeant Barnes put you in bed before returning to his own quarters.”

Groaning as you got out of bed, you realized you were still in your work-out clothes from the previous night, at least Bucky didn’t try to change you last night. Well, why would he? Your mind started to think as you headed for the bathroom to shower, suddenly grateful you woke up in your bed instead of on the floor. You suddenly froze, halfway to the bathroom door as you remembered one small detail of last night: “God, I really like you.”

Pushing away from the thoughts in your head, you quickly showered and got dressed. Going through routines helped the thoughts in your head from swirling around so much. You walked into the kitchen, grabbing a cereal bowl as you ignored how quiet it suddenly got when you walked in. Pouring all the necessary (and frankly colorful) ingredients and sitting down, you paused, spoon halfway to your mouth as you noticed most of the Avengers staring at you. “What?” You said it defensively, the simple word carrying a small amount of venom behind it.

Sam spoke up first, eyes locking with yours, “Y/N I’m sorry- no, no interrupting, eat your breakfast and let me say it, no running away Y/N/N” he spoke carefully, gentle yet clearly concerned. You gave him a wary look before starting to eat your cereal. Sam took that as an invitation to speak again. “I’m sorry, no, well yes, but we are all sorry. We didn’t realize the jokes we said were hurting you, and we hope you can forgive us and open up to us again. Y/N/N we miss seeing you around here. Your family but you’re avoiding us, we didn’t even realize what we said was causing you pain and behalf of all of us, even though most of it was my jokes, we are all sorry for making you feel like you weren’t a valuable part of this family.” You winced, hearing the guilt in his voice, conscious everyone was probably looking towards you as you stared at your cereal. “Because you are a valuable member of this family Y/N, and we miss seeing you happy.” That was the nail in the coffin, the tears that were bubbling in your eyes suddenly, but thankfully quietly, spilling down your face.

Sniffling, you looked up at Sam and the rest of the team, your view starting to get a bit blurry as tears clouded your vision. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys,” your eyes making a point of looking at Bucky. He looked like he hadn’t slept all night, hair mussed, his hand most likely running through it several times throughout the night. You quickly looked away before your resolve to finish your thoughts crumbled. “I thought I could just get past the thoughts, the words, the jokes, I was probably just hoping it would go away… thanks for being there, I know I can be kind of a mess, I’m not always perfect, but I’ll try to actually talk through these thoughts, and… feelings.” A few heads nodded, the tension dissolving in the room.

“Now, with the messy stuff outta the way, when you finish your breakfast, someone is requesting your presence at your garden kid,” You looked up at Tony, confused as you tried wiping your tears, happy you were talking through things for once instead of being rash. He shook his head, “No details coming out of me kid, just relaying the message.” He was quick to leave the room.

Your face must have looked perplexed still because Steve spoke up as he headed out as well, “Just trust us Y/N/N, you have a surprise waiting for you down there,” Steve knew how much you adored the greenhouse garden you had practically begged Tony to help you install when you became an Avenger. It had been the only thing you have ever asked of him, your small piece of comfort. Tending new flowers and growing herbs became a habit when you were younger, a positive way to keep yourself distracted from the thoughts in your head and the worries of the outside world.

The kitchen was now relatively empty, leaving a certain redheaded Russian alone with you. Natasha walked over, kissing your head motherly, “I’m always here to talk Malen'kiy,” she spoke softly, hugging you gently from the side. You rested your head against her, a faint smile on your face, your first real smile in a while.

“I know, thanks, Nat. I promise I’ll actually talk to you next time,” your voice was just as soft as you looked up adoringly at your practically adoptive sister. Nat had always been the one to know you the best. She knew you had these thoughts, always the clever one, but she didn’t realize they had become this bad.

“Now, hurry up and go to that garden you love before I have to kick your butt and drag you there myself,” You chuckled, smiling up at her as she playfully nudged your arm towards the door. Something was definitely going on. Three Avengers in cahoots to send you to your garden? Suspicious. You walked a little faster than usual down to your garden, wondering what was such a big deal that everyone really wanted you to go there.

The door’s open. That weird, I always close it. You thought as you approached the greenhouse. Walking inside you were flabbergasted, it looked completely different, in a totally good way. The weeds you had missed the other day were already uprooted, the floor swept, the fairy lights you had been dying to put up were already up and on. But what surprised you most were the new flowers that had lined the formerly empty new section you weren’t quite sure what to put there.

It was right beside the bench you used to read when you wanted to be alone after rough missions and no matter what plant you could think of, nothing ever felt right being put there. It would be the scent that would surround while you read, the light perfect there for reading, so you wanted something nice but none of your choices stuck. You already had those type of flowers, or it just felt wrong next to the bench, but the arrangement of flowers currently there now? They were perfect. Purple violets, purple lilacs, yellow daisies, red carnations, and hydrangeas.

Caught up in the new additions to your garden, you didn’t notice Bucky sitting on the bench beside the flowers at first. You knew the meaning of these new additions, but you weren’t quite sure what to say. “Did you do all of this?” you kept your voice low, eyes locking onto the sheepish blue eyes in front of you. Dark circles surrounded those beautiful eyes you tried so hard not to think about. He nodded slowly, a hopeful look in his eyes as he motioned for you to join him on the bench. “Last night… I couldn’t sleep… so I decided to do what you said I should do.”

“Which was?” you prompted, still a bit wary that this was some big joke against you.

“Earn you…” his eyes locked onto yours before he continued. “Y/N, I’m sorry for all the things I said, I know Sam did a big ‘forgive all’ sorta’ apology but I wanted to say I’m sorry personally. Y/N… I’m sorry, dreadfully, absolutely, completely, and utterly sorry.” He was biting his lower lip, anxiously fidgeting with the rings on his fingers as he waited for your response with bated breath.

You gulped faintly at the implications of what he was saying and one key phrase he had said last night was replaying in your head. “God, I really like you” Your eyes fell from his gaze, looking towards the flowers, did he even know what this all meant?

“Bucky, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how I felt, and I accept your apology about, well everything I guess. And thanks for fixing up the place,” you found the courage to say your thoughts, still locked onto the flowers. “Did you really not get any sleep just to do all of this for me?”

“Yes.” He said it quickly, with conviction, and when your attention snapped back to him, you noticed how nervous he seemed. Nodding faintly, you sat on the bench beside him, just out of his reach, he would have to scoot over to be near you.

You leaned against the arm of the bench, bent towards the new flowers. “They’re perfect by the way. I could never find a good combination of scents and colors for this spot, but you managed to do it beautifully.” You heard Bucky shuffle behind you, most likely still fidgeting, his metal fingers bumping against the metal of the rings on his right hand.

“Steve may have mentioned how he overheard you upset you were that you couldn’t figure out what to put there,” apprehensively he added, “Do you really like them?”

At that, you turned back towards him, grinning brightly at him. “They absolutely perfect Bucky.” You spoke with the same conviction he spoke earlier. Still gathering the nerve, you looked back towards the flowers, already enveloped by their scent, calming you as you spoke. “Do you know what each flower means?” Your voice was soft again, hopeful. That it wasn’t some accident he chose these specific flowers.

“Yes.” He answered simply. You turned towards him, his blue eyes, nervousness, and hopefulness evident in them.

“Then tell me,” you smiled warmly, feeling your cheeks warm up as he smiled back at you.

“Why do I have a feeling you already know?”

“Because I do… it’s just… some flowers can have multiple meanings, I want to know what you meant by each one.” You knew you were most definitely blushing at the moment, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care as he moved closer, thigh now pressed against your own. He started to point out each flower and he explained.

“Purple violets mean that the giver’s thoughts were, and I’m quoting the website here darling, ‘were occupied with love’ to the person they are giving it too,” you giggled, smiling up at him as he continued with a bit more confidence. “Purple lilacs symbolize the first emotions of love, yellow daisies mean anything from youthful beauty to loyal love to new beginnings, I was honestly aiming for all three, as they remind me of you.” You noticed how Bucky was now blushing, eyes turned to focus on the flowers, nervousness flooding him again. “Red carnations mean love, pride, and admiration, and finally the hydrangeas symbolize heartfelt emotions, but I like their second meaning more.” He paused, biting his lip again before continuing,

“That they can be used to express gratitude for being understood… Y/N, you’re amazing. You’re always kind, you’re never quick to judge but you're quick to protect, you’re fierce, whether it’s beating up bad guys or defending one of us. What I’m saying,” he finally looked back up at you, “I like you a lot Y/N. You showed me kindness and welcomed me here at the compound before I could even remember what either of those words meant anymore. You’re hot-headed, rash, too stubborn for your own good, quick to jump into a fight, you and Steve have that in common. But you’re also quick-witted, ambitious, and God I’m rambling, again aren’t I? I just… I wanted to show you some of the beauty you show me every time you walk through the door without even trying.” You couldn’t stop smiling as Bucky spoke, somewhere along the line you two had started holding hands and you most definitely weren’t letting go anytime soon. “I’ve fallen in love with you without you even trying doll.” He froze, realizing the pet name rolled so easily off his tongue, the same one that had upset you the night before.

You released one of his hands, gently placing it to cusp his jaw, “Bucky, I think I have some of my own confessions to make” your voice was soft, and it surprised you that you even could speak. Here was the man of your literal dreams confessing his love for you in the garden you had built from the ground up. “Before you panic, I actually like the pet names, I just… last night I was really wound up, and I lashed out at you, I’m sorry Buck...” He visibly softened at your words, elated he could go back to calling you that, but he still stared at your intertwined hand. “I really like you to…” his eyes shot up from to meet yours.

“Really?” If anyone knew that the formidable Winter Soldier had practically whimpered out that word, you knew Sam would never let Bucky live it down. You just smiled, standing and gently tugged him into the garden. You had a second bench, hidden amongst the thick foliage of the surrounding trees and vines. The bench was at the edge of a hidden circle opening, the circle was lined with rock and shells, the center filled with soft blankets and fluffy pillows. This was your favorite place to nap, the quiet secluded heart of the garden just hidden in the darkness, and away from the exit. Bucky hadn’t been the first to enter the garden, but he was the first you were willingly showing this part of it. It was your, or well our now you guessed, little secret. Fairy lights, these installed by you as the first batch you received, surrounded the circle.

You sat towards the edge of the circle, just a bit off from the bench, motioned him to join you on the fluffy pillows you sat on. He hesitantly sat beside you, close but cautious, unsure of what you were doing but trusting you completely. “Do you know why this small area is my favorite spot but is the one area of the entire garden I don’t let anyone into?” You asked softly, gently holding his soft yet calloused hands in your lap. He shook his head, intrigued but staying silent. You pointed towards the bush in front of you, small blue forget-me-nots dotting the bush. “They remind me of you.” You confided, looking towards him. His eyes gazed back towards you, full of admiration, awe, and, dare you to say, love. “There’s the obvious memory joke in there, but that’s not why they remind me of you. They symbolize a love brimming with memories, and every time I look at them I remember the hundreds of times your eyes look at me with such awe, like you can’t believe I’m real. No one’s ever looked at me like that before. Their color reminds me of your eyes, those ocean eyes I could get lost in if I’m not paying attention, the eyes I’m searching for during those boring briefs before meetings. They also symbolize how I don’t want you to forget about me one day.” You saw the emotions flash in those very eyes you could fall into as you spoke.

Bucky gently moved closer, his hands now cradling your jaw as he spoke. “I could never forget about you doll.” His words pushed you forward almost subconsciously, finally daring to get closer to the man you could see yourself falling in love with. Every second went by painfully slow as the two of you grew closer, until Bucky’s lips met with yours. You hummed happily, his thumbs rubbing soft circles against your cheeks as you finally kissed. Your hands found themselves at the nape of his neck, gently tugging at his hair as he deepened the kiss. You pulled away finally, suddenly very aware about the burning need in your lungs to breathe. Bucky, ever the super soldier, was the first to recover, grinning as he tried to catch his breath. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since forever.”

You laughed at that, biting your bottom lip, noticing how kiss swollen Bucky’s lips were. “Stop being cheesy and kiss me again Bucky, matte’ of fact, never stop kissing me,” You said softly, pulling him back for more. He smiled against your lips as you both finally felt content, surrounded by flowers and fairy lights.

[cross-roads-blues]

Deep Inside Your Mind /ch.4

[chapter 1]  [chapter 2] [chapter 3] [ [chapter 5]

Notes: Your author is not dead. However, now that my break has ended, updating this story on a daily basis has gotten a bit harder for me, so the updates may be every 2 or 3 days. Also, need to establish some timelines.

1) Takes place before Mary gets brought back

2) Angels still have wings

3) Dean doesn't have the Mark of Cain

4) Crowley and TFW have a complicated relationship but none of them is actively trying to kill another.

Warnings: None, really. 

Summary:  While on a usual hunt, Dean Winchester is hit by something. While Dean recovers, he can’t remember neither Castiel, who’s been harboring feelings for Dean for over 5 years, nor Sam Winchester, his brother, who is 💔 by such turn of events. Can Cas and Sam reverse the damage, while battling their inner demons?

Chapter: 4/?

Word Count: 6520/?

Chapter Title: Way Down We Go

Jamie exited the hospital room and shut the door behind her. Or rather, the demon that was possessing the nurse made her exit the room and shut the door behind her. Word travels fast and talk about the comatose Winchester brother spread like fire in the middle of June. But now the demon didn’t need the meatsuit of the nurse. Everything he needed to know was already revealed: Dean Winchester was indeed amnesiac and he didn’t remember a damn thing about his past.

The demon in nurse meatsuit made his way to the storage room. The nurse locked the door and turned around on her heels approaching the corner of the room where in the dark, a man, seemingly unconscious, was sitting, leaning on the wall. The demon smoked out of the nurse and in the form of red smoke traveled to the man, possessing him. The man opened his eyes, stood up, dusted his pants and sighed with relief, looking at his hands. Being back in his meatsuit made Crowley very happy. After all, it was a rather handsome meatsuit. Crowley didn’t like to leave his meatsuit, but he had to take the nurse for 15 minutes to check on Dean. Anyway, he was on the new objective now.  “Huh,” smirked Crowley  and in the second, there was no one in the storage room of Dallas Municipal Hospital.

“Raised? By an angel? Why would an angel want to raise this scum?” Sam turned around and rubbed his temples.

Castiel squinted and again glanced at the top of the trees, slightly glistening from the start of sunrise. “I don't know. I could be able to trace the angel, though.”

“Great! Let's start with that! C'mon, do your mojo.” !” said Sam, with way too much tension in his voice.

Castiel pressed his lips and walked away from the grave. “I can’t just do it right here right now,” he said finally, making pauses between words. “I need to lay hands on something that the angel has touched.”

Sam aggressively ran his hand through his hair. “The ghost witch probably. If the angel yanked it out of Purgatory, or wherever this thing was, like you yanked Dean out of Hell, there should be a mark. ”

Castiel nodded. “Yes, there must be a mark.”

“Okay, zap us back to Dallas, we need a plan,” said Sam with a frown on his face, “Why can’t life just be easy?”

“You’re a Winchester and I’m an angel, I’m guessing that’s the thing,” murmured Cas, as he transported both of them back to the motel.

“Ugh, your teleport mojo always messes me over.” Sam stumbled over to the refrigerator, bumping into the kitchen’s doorway and grabbed another can of coffee. “I feel like shit now.”

“Maybe it’s because of your poor sleeping schedule,” commented Castiel, as he grabbed a book titled “Native American Legends” and collapsed in the chair, flipping through it.

“Definitely not.” Sam threw the can in the garbage bin, this time missing the bin and letting the can skittle in the corner.

“Right,” mouthed Castiel. “What’s the plan?” he said aloud, glancing up at the younger Winchester.

Sam shrugged. “We need to figure out how to track this thing. Get you to it for a long enough time and then have a nice talk with our feathery friend.” He dropped into a chair, letting his hair fall over his face. “I combed through all lore on ghost witches at least twice and I got no idea how to do that,” he added in muffled voice.

“Cheer up, Moose.” A way too familiar voice was heard from the doorway. Both Castiel and Sam jumped from their seats and bared their weapons: Castiel pointed an angel blade while Sam reached out for Ruby’s knife.

“I come in peace.” Crowley raised his eyebrows and displayed his empty hands. “Offended that you’d even think anything else of me.”

“Why’re you here, Crowley?” spat out Sam, still pointing the knife at the demon.

“To cuddle and watch Mean Girls,” smirked Crowley, “A little birdie brought on its tail that Squirrel forgot my pretty face. Now that’s a problem I’m interested in.”

Crowley strolled to the armchair and casually sat in it. “Ah yes, I know all about your little amnesia problem. About Skudakumooches, too. Wanted to help,” he continued in his gruff voice.

“Why?” Castiel slightly relaxed his stance, weapon still tight in his hand.

Crowley gave him a tight smile. “Because we’re besties. And because your ghost witches  are going after my crossroads demons.”

“Okay, what?” Sam put the knife away and set on the bed.

“Heard me right. Etchemin spells. Killing my best salesmen. Guessing that’s the work of your best buds.” Crowley leaned back in the armchair and crossed his hands.

“Okay and how are you gonna be useful, Crowley?” Sam rested his elbows on his knees and glared at the King of Hell.

“I got a friend who got a friend who got a friend who used to be a shaman before they went to Hell and I got a summoning ritual on my hands.”  Crowley did jazz hands. “Tada.”

Sam raised his eyebrow. “Okay, Crowley, why do you think we want to summon this thing?”

Crowley stared back at him, feigning surprise. “Why, to kill it of course. This thing is murdering my demons, it turned your brother Jason Bourne, I assumed you want it dead.”

Castiel and Sam exchanged glances. “What do you want in return?” finally spoke Sam.

“I want it dead. Seriously, did you listen to the word I said?” Crowley’s eyebrows shot up. “I said that it kills my guys and my little establishment known as Hell-” he accentuated that word - “is losing clientele! So I am more than willing to cooperate.”

Castiel looked at Sam, furrowing his brows and pushing his lips tightly together. Sam didn’t say anything, just nodded. Castiel hesitated for a second, then turned back to Crowley. “Deal. Give us the ritual.”

Crowley gave him an enigmatic tight-lipped smile. “Attaboy. Kill it real hard for me, will you?” He handed Castiel a folded piece of paper. Before taking it, Castiel gave Crowley a glare and practically yanked the paper out of his hand.

“We’re not killing it for you, Crowley,” said the angel in a haunting deep voice.

Crowley grinned. “Wouldn’t think so. Still you get the job done and that’s all I care about. I’d hate to lose any more of my salesmen.  I have a reputation to maintain here.” With these words, Crowley teleported, leaving Castiel and Sam staring at an empty armchair.

“Okay, now Crowley is involved and he knows about Dean’s situation. This just got more complicated,” said Sam, stowing away the knife and sighing.

Castiel tilted his hand and squinted. “If Crowley knew, it means that the word about Dean got out. This can’t be good.”

Sam nodded. “I’ll talk to the doctor about getting him here tomorrow. We should head to the bunker, do the summon, trace the angel, force him to force the ghost witches to give Dean’s memory back and then kill them all.” Sam exhaled and leaned back, lying on the bed completely. “Man, I swear,  sometimes it’s like the Universe is against us.”

Castiel looked at Sam. “You are going to get some sleep, while I-” he skimmed through the paper Crowley gave them “-am going to collect the ingredients for the ritual that we don’t have in the bunker.”

Sam got himself up from the bed, blinking rapidly and squinting. “No, Cas, wait, I can help with the-” he stuttered, looking for the word- “the, the…. the search of the ingredients.”

“No.” Castiel determinedly got up and walked up to the door. “I’ll see you later.”

“Wait, I’m not done, I’m not done!” Sam started to get up from the bed, but the exhaustion and many sleepless nights started setting in. “Okay, I’m done,” he admitted, collapsing again on the bed, “I’m done.”

Castiel cast one last glance at the younger Winchester, turned off the lights and headed out of the door. He shut the door behind him and felt light morning breeze on his face, as the sun continued rising. The angel pressed his lips together and tilted his head up, letting weak sunlight fall on his face. For the first time in weeks, they had a lead. They had a real shot at saving Dean. Castiel glanced down as he thought about the angel that had risen the Skudakumooches and ordered them to do that to Dean. He imagined jamming an angel blade in his throat and that thought felt really therapeutic. With a flap of the wings Castiel wasn’t anymore on the porch of the motel room.

The sunlight lit up Dean’s hospital room, as the light wind from the open window played with the curtains. The angel stood in the middle of the room, not sure why did he come there. Dean was sleeping and Cas rejoiced at seeing the hunter so calm and at peace. He slowly approached the bed, being careful not to make any sound. Dean not remembering him hurt like hell, hurt in the ways he couldn’t imagine. The pain of his human not remembering him, while the angel’s most cherished memories were with Dean stung and Cas couldn’t get rid of it. The angel spent a couple of minutes looking at Dean’s face and, as he wanted to leave, the hunter’s green eyes slowly opened.

“What, what time is it?” sleepily murmured the hunter, blinking slowly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up, I was just checking up on you…” rambled Castiel, moving away from the bed, embarrassed.

“Wait!” called out hunter.

“What is it?” The angel hesitated and lingered for a couple of moments by the bed.

“Your eyes… they’re blue,” muttered Dean, weakly raising his hand and pointing towards Cas’ face.

Castiel tilted his head and furrowed his brows. “Yes, I’m aware of that.”

Dean, still half asleep and a bit dizzy from the meds, hesitated for a second, but then continued. “I had a memory… lots of pain and everything red and black… and then I saw a flash of white-” Dean stopped and stared directly in Cas’ eyes- “and in that flash, I think I saw your eyes. But that doesn’t make any sense. So, Castiel, tell me who the hell I am, who the hell you are and what did I see?”

Castiel gave him a tight-lipped smile and contemplated his answer for a second. "No more secrets," he thought.

“I am an angel of the Lord.”

[chapter 1]  [chapter 2] [chapter 3] [chapter 5]