#SPN Anti-Valentine's Challenge

[iwantthedean]

Heavy

Summary: Sometimes even the love you want can be overwhelming. 

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1615

Warnings: ** TRIGGER WARNINGS ** Unintentional self-harm, OCD, blood. Hospital setting. 

A/N: This is my entry for @thing-you-do-with-that-thing‘s anti-Valentine’s Day challenge; my prompt was Heavy In Your Arms by Florence + the Machine. It is also my entry for @letsgetoutalive‘s Mental Health Challenge; my prompt there was OCD. This is one of the darker fics I have written, just to warn you lovelies. I may or may not have given myself some anxiety writing this.

The stitches were not straight. Your skin was still burning from the pain of the stitches Sam had completed just minutes ago, but it felt as though the threads were small bugs crawling in and out of your flesh, begging to be ripped out. Stitches that weren’t exactly straight or symmetrical were not always something that had bothered you. Thanks to the tiny blue chill pill you took every morning, your obsessive-compulsive disorder was actually quite under control.

Until Dean.

The very thought of his name quickened your heart and urged your palm to rub lightly over the wound. Sam had intended to bandage the cut as soon as it was stitched, but an unknown lack of first aid supplies prevented him from doing so. And there you were, staring at those uneven stitches, with knots and tails of all sizes and lengths.

Dean peeked his head out of the bathroom. “Hey, Y/N, I’m gonna shower, all right?”

With the same guilt as if you had been caught stealing, you covered your newly-stitched laceration with your hand. “Sure. Don’t take all the hot water.”

He promised not to, his green eyes sparkling as he smiled at you before closing the door. You heard the shower start and, since the hunt was over and mending had begun, you knew he was going to be in there for a while. You had at least twenty minutes before Sam returned, and probably about the same amount of time before Dean was out of the shower. 

Using your knife, you quickly and not so carefully snipped every little loop holding your skin together. The stitches had to come out, and they had to come out now. 

It wouldn’t be like this if Dean had never admitted to falling in love with you. You were, of course, in love with him, too, and that had sent you spiraling out of control. You were happy. Shit, when had you ever been able to say that? But with that happiness came a certain fear: you were no longer in control of your life. 

That burden weighed on you heavier than the love between you and Dean could support. You were no longer only worried about yourself; there was now the fear of losing someone who not only held your heart in the palm of his hand, but who had given you his heart so freely. The fact that it was Dean Winchester, well, that only made things worse. 

This was how it always started, with feeling out of control. It was your biggest trigger and stuffing it down, keeping it to yourself, had made things worse as your relationship with Dean progressed. Your hands tingled with the urge to take your life back from him and yell that it was yours, that he had no right to come in and love you and make you wish for anything other than what you’d always had. 

He was singing Metallica in the shower while you pulled the tiny strings from your arm. The holes they left behind bled only a little, and you used the already-bloody towel still on the table to stop that bleeding. You threaded the needle again, took a deep breath, and began to stitch. You wished you could remove the part of your heart Dean inhabited and stitch it closed.

At first, being with Dean had felt like the best way to be out of control. There was no telling what was coming next for the two of you, how far things would go. The reality of your lives hit quickly. Brush after brush with death reminded you that your love could be taken away just as suddenly as it had come into your life. You no longer made decisions only for yourself. Then there was the thing -- the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. 

The compulsions started out small, excusable, like they always did. You cleaned your gun twice through, just to be sure. You rearranged the dishes in the kitchen cabinet because you were tired of the brothers leaving everything cluttered. You squared and balanced all the books in the library for some need for order. You organized all the weapons in the trunk of the Impala. 

Even being out of control got out of control. You were counting to five at every chance you got, putting needless numbers of bullets or stab wounds into creatures who needed no more than one strike to be taken down. You were repeating exorcisms five times, finishing the Latin recitations long after the demon was bound back to Hell. 

This wasn’t working. You were at a strange angle, trying to stitch your own forearm with your left hand when you were right-handed. Although you had nearly stitched the whole gash closed again, you pulled the thread out, used the towel to stop the bleeding, and threaded the needle again. 

It was your fourth time working over your arm, the fifth overall, when Sam walked back in the room. 

“Y/N, what the hell!” he exclaimed. 

Blood was pooling beneath your arm, and the flesh was no longer a clean incision but a ragged, open tear. The bright red of fresh blood contrasted sharply against your skin; it stung only a little when Sam pressed the towel against your arm to hold pressure. Dean came out from the bathroom moments later in a fresh t-shirt and jeans, saw the blood, and asked the same thing Sam had. 

You only started to cry when you saw the fear in his eyes. Honestly, you had expected panic or some sort of disgust. It snapped you out of your obsession with the stitches and you realized what you had done. 

“Baby, what the hell happened?” he repeated, quieter this time. He approached you carefully, as though any sudden movements might spook you into making things worse. As you continued to cry, Sam continued to hold pressure, and Dean knelt in front of you. “Did you do this on purpose?”

You shook your head fervently. “No, I swear! Sam did an amazing job on the stitches but they weren’t straight. I needed them to be straight. I thought I could do it myself …”

You trailed off then, sniffling back any more tears. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all right,” he assured, taking your other hand in his. The blood on your left hand smeared onto his calloused palm and fingers, but somehow, you were comforted. You were no longer in this alone.

At least somebody was in control.

At the hospital, it was just you and Dean. Sam stayed behind to clean up the blood you had left on the table. You felt horrible for worrying both of them and knew that Sam, as the more sensitive brother, would require a one-on-one discussion later. You were okay with that, and you appreciated that he gave you some alone time with Dean first. 

Since your bleeding was managed, you had a decent wait before you could get back into a room and see a doctor. While the two of you waited, you worked up the courage to tell Dean what had set you off. If you didn’t tell him now, it would come out in the exam room. Better to just come clean and let him process before someone else was getting the news, too. 

“I’ve never had what we have,” you started. “I love you, but loving you and having you love me back, it also makes me feel out of control. I don’t just have me to worry about, and I have more to consider than just myself when I make decisions. I care if you’re going to leave me or die. Dean, I never thought I would have this, but I love you so much …”

“I love you too, Y/N,” he said, as genuine as you had ever heard him. “I knew things weren’t great, but I had no idea they were this bad. I’m so sorry I didn’t ask you about it sooner.”

“You knew?”

Dean shrugged. “I figured it wasn’t really fear putting all those bullets into monsters. And when I realized it was always in multiples of five, I knew. I didn’t want to make it worse. You’ve always had your OCD under control as long as I’ve been around you, and I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry it came to this before I could step up.”

You swallowed hard; it was time for you to step up. “There’s more. Something that really set things off this time. Something that is making me feel even more out of control because I don’t know how you’re going to react and how we’re going to handle this. I had not knowing.”

“Then let’s find out, babe. I’m not going anywhere.”

You swallowed hard again. “I found out for sure this morning that I -- I’m pregnant. It isn’t just me and you I have to worry about, it’s this whole other life, this whole other living thing -- a fucking person! I’m responsible for a living person!”

Dean took your mild panic attack in stride. He hugged you tight, stroked your hair, and didn’t say anything. When you were able to compose yourself, he kissed you softly on the forehead. 

“You’re not in this alone, you know. I never thought I would have this reaction to that kind of news, but Y/N, I’m happy. I want a baby with you.”

“You do?”

Suddenly, it all seemed so silly. Dean nodded and you broke out in a smile, and all the anxiety washed away. You were suddenly in control again because it all finally clicked: you didn’t have to be in control alone.

[thing-you-do-with-that-thing]

SPN ANTI-VALENTINE’S MASTERLIST

All are reader inserts. The prompts are all songs and the challenge was to make me cry so there is angst in all of them. Some fluffier than others though. 

All the fics are under the cut. Read them and remember to like, comment, ask - show the writers some love :D

Dean Winchester

Shatter by @spn-and-daddy-issues

Heavy by @iwantthedean

Angy all the time by @pureawesomeness001

He stopped loving her today by @winchester-chronicles

Say it aint so by @traceyaudette

Between the lines by @spnsimpleman

Love runs out by @paigeinastory

Wind beneath your wings by @themaninflannel

Her by @waywardimpalawriter

When she is gone by @whisperandwhiskerburn

Hurt by @winchesterenthusiast

Alone or Not by @megansescape

I will always love you by @winchestersmolder

Hate Me by @wayward-marvel-sommer1196

Somehow Lost by @chelsea072498

Bring Him Home by @mysupernaturalfics

Sam Winchester

By your side by @waywardjoy

Eyes that know by @revwinchester

Other Characters

Decisions by @artsywhore0 (Crowley)

How to save a life by @totallynotjohngreen (Gabriel)

Anti Valentine’s Day by @ladyfae (Gadreel)

Immortal Heart by @overly-obsessed-fangirl1 (Charlie)

Letting Go by @little-red-83

Jensen Ackles (RPF)

Whiskey and you by @iwriteaboutdean

She’s out of my life by @chaos-and-the-calm67

Right Here Waiting by @supernatural-jackles

READ ALL THE FICS Y’ALL.

Not gonna mention names. The 3 of you who asked for an extension - you will be added later and your entries will be treated like everyone elses - just send me an IM when you post. 

The two that asked to drop - it it cool. Life happens. Feel free to join my challenges another time. 

The two that has not turned in your fic and have not gotten in contact with me you will be banned from all future challenges. 

[wayward-marvel-sommer1196]

Hate Me

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Trigger Warnings: Language, suicide (kind of), violence, asshole-ness, death

Word Count: 2858

Summary: All Dean wants in this world is for you to be safe and he doesn’t believe that is with him. So, in an effort to keep you safe he makes the ultimate sacrifice: his heart. Knowing you would never leave him he comes up with a stupid plan that backfires on him completely. What happens when he not only shatters his heart but yours as well?

A/N: This is for @thing-you-do-with-that-thing Anti-Valentine’s Challenge. So basically the goal here was to write a story that included a really sad song chosen from her list and make it angst to the fucking max. The song I chose here was Hate Me by: Blue October. This story is all angst and all heartbreak sorry no fluff this time. But with all done and said I think this came out pretty damn good. I almost teared up a bit writing some pieces. Any who as always feedback is always welcome and wanted but hate isn’t so if you don’t have anything nice to say keep it to yourself. BTW Happy Valentine’s Day Y’all !!!!

Bold Italics = Song Lyrics 

Regular Italics = Flashbacks 

I have to block out thoughts of you so I don’t lose my head

They crawl in like a cockroach leaving babies in my bed

Dropping little reels of tape to remind me that I’m alone

Playing movies in my head that make a porno feel like home

There's a burning in my pride, a nervous bleeding in my brain

An ounce of peace is all I want for you. Will you never call again?

And will you never say that you loved me, just to put it in my face?

And will you never try to reach me?

It is I that wanted space

****Dean POV****

Its been a few months now since Dean broke up with you or rather you broke up with him because of something he did to make you break up with him. Even though this was his plan it doesn’t make it hurt him any less. He needed you safe and this was the only plan that he could come up with to keep you that way. He needed you to live a life of piece. A life he could never give you. A life a hunter doesn’t get to have.

Maybe Sam was right. Maybe he shouldn’t have acted too quickly on this. Maybe he should have tried harder. The maybe’s are what get him the most. They are what keep him up at night. What causes the tears to race down his cheeks when no one’s around. Sometimes he wishes you would call or try and reach him in anyway, but then he remembers he is the one who wanted this. He is the one who caused this. The only way he is going to get through this with his head straight is to block you out of his mind. But, how can he do that when he is still hopelessly in love with you?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

****Dean POV****

“Sam, she’s not safe with us. She’s not safe with me. Doing this is the only way she can have a life,” Dean said.

“Dean, she was a hunter before she met us. What makes you think she will give it up if we leave her? If you leave her?” Sam asked.

“For one, every fucking demon, angel, and god damn monster out there knows us by name. They don’t know (Y/N). They won’t go seeking her out like they do us Sammy. And besides how many times have we died? I won’t let that happen to her. With me out of the picture at least she will have a chance to find someone outside of the life and settle down, get married, have a coupe kids, you know? The white picket fence life we never got and will never have,” Dean argued.

“What if that’s not what she wants Dean? What if she’s happy with you now? You guys are good for each other. You can’t control her life,” Sam replied.

“I know I can’t. And I know she won’t leave on her own or if I break up with her so I have a plan,” Dean said as he turned around shaking his head already regretting this plan and heading to the bar.  

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hate me today

Hate me tomorrow

Hate me for all the things I didn’t do for you

 Hate me in ways

Yeah, ways hard to swallow

Hate me so you can finally see what’s good for you

****(Y/N) POV****

“Hey Sammy, have you seen Dean? I can’t find him and he’s not answering my calls,” you asked.

“Uhhh…..I think he went to the bar,” Sam replied nervously.

“Damn it! He was doing so good. He hasn’t drank in a week. I really thought we were making progress. Do you know which bar?” you inquired.

“I think Piedmont on 5th,” he answered.

“Thanks I’m gonna go get him and see what’s up. Be back soon,” you replied. If only you would have looked back at Sam and seen the look painted on his face would you have known what you were about to walk into.

You walked into the bar and was instantly bombarded with a cacophony of noises that made you want to rip your ears off. You scanned the room quickly looking for Dean not having any luck. So you walked up to the bartender to ask him a few questions.

“Hey uh bartender. HEY! Over here. Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure thing sexy you can ask me whatever you want,” he responded while simultaneously eye fucking your chest.

You rolled your eyes and gaged at his response and pulled out a picture of Dean. “Have you seen this man?”

“Why? You and I could have a great time. You don’t need him,” he replied with a slimey smile crossing his face.

“Fuck off. Have you seen him or not?” you demanded.

“Whatever bitch. Your little boyfriend is in the back,” he not so kindly replied.

You let the response go and just went to find Dean he was your main priority right now.  

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

****Dean POV****

Dean walked into the bar and scoped the place out for the easiest floosy he could enact his terrible plan with. The plan to push you away for good. The plan to make you hate him. He spotted a blond that didn’t look too drunk, because he obviously didn’t want to take advantage of anyone, and looked exactly like his type before he met you. He approached her and it didn’t take long for him to work his magic.

“Hey, I couldn’t help but notice you were all alone. Want some company?” he asked.

“Sure, especially if that company comes looking like you,” she replied all too happy.

The bartender asked Dean what he wanted so Dean asked for a beer. However, he never touched that beer because of the promise he made to (Y/N) which he didn’t know why he was keeping but his head never made any sense.

“Name’s Dean and you are?” he asked

“Molly and I was kind of hoping that maybe you would want to……” and before she could finish her sentence Deans lips were on hers.

“Why don’t we take this somewhere else?” Dean suggested. And with that they went to the back of the bar and into the storage closet where things started to get heated.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

****(Y/N) POV****

You went to the back of the bar and still didn’t see Dean. You were just about to go give the bartender a good ass-kicking for lying to you when you heard a bang on the door to your left labeled Storage. You were hoping that what was behind this door wasn’t what you had in your head, but you had to check. You put your shaking hand on the handle of the door hesitating to open it, but eventually you turned the handle. What you saw, you didn’t want to believe. Dean without his shirt, his belt undone, and his hands all over some ditsy blondes’ body, who was also half naked.

“What the actual fuck??!!!??!!?” you half screamed.

“(Y/N), what are you doing here?” Dean asked.

Before you could answer the ditsy blonde spoke up, “Who the hell is she?”

“I’m his girlfriend. So, if I were you I would take your hands off him right now and grab your clothes and leave before I kick your ass,” you retorted through gritted teeth. And with that she ran out like the flash.

“I’m going to ask again. What the fuck Dean?”

“I think you get the just of what was going here (Y/N). It’s not that hard to understand,” Dean responded.

With that you responded by punching Dean in the jaw hard enough to knock him on his ass. “Why are you being such an ass hole? You were fine this morning. We were fine this morning. What the hell happened between then and now?” you practically begged with tears starting to well up in your eyes.

“I don’t know what to tell you (Y/N). The love is just not there anymore. You weren’t satisfying me anymore so I sought it elsewhere,” Dean replied with each of these words breaking heart little by little.

“No. I don’t believe you. This isn’t you. You’re lying. You have to be. How could you do this to me?” you pleaded with tears now streaming down your face

“Sorry sweetheart it’s all true. The feelings are gone,” Dean said with finality and his own tears starting to well but holding back so he doesn’t blow his lie.

“Fine Dean Winchester. We are done. That’s it. I’m gone. You are rid me. I hope your happy because after now you will never see me again and for your sake you better hope I never see you again,” you retorted.

With that you left and just in time to miss Dean’s breakdown. He let the tears flow freely and left the bar to head back to the bunker.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I’m sober now for three whole months it’s one accomplishment that you helped me with

The one thing that always tore us apart is the one thing I won’t touch again

In my sick way I want to thank you for holding my head up late at night

While I was busy waging wars on myself, you were trying to stop the fight

You never doubted my warped opinions on things like suicidal hate

You made me compliment myself when it was way too hard to take

So I’ll drive so fucking far away that I never cross your mind

And do whatever it takes in your heart to leave me behind

****Dean’s POV****

The funny thing about Dean’s situation here is that he has managed to stay sober these three months because of you. You always wanted him to be sober because that’s when he was his best self and with all the hurt he already caused you he felt like that would just make it worse. He knows it doesn’t really matter but it helps his head.

Although with the sober mind it brings back all of our memories happy and horrible and it makes things so much worse. He remembers the times you would lay his head on your lap and stroke his hair after a nightmare he would occasionally have. He remembers when he would blame myself for all the woes of the world and you would so graciously remind him that he is only one person and can’t possibly save the whole world all the time. He remembers the way you would talk him off the ledge and not let him make any stupid decisions. He remembers the way you used to show him the light within him and that he is not all dark.

But, with all these good memories he also remembers the bad. He remembers the time a vamp nearly sucked the life out of you. He remembers the time when that son of a bitch demon possessed you and made you stab yourself and cause a five-day hospital stay. These are the memories that help reinforce his decision. That make him hope that he has made you hate him so much that he never crosses your mind and that your heart leaves him behind. As long as you are safe his heart can take the pain.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

****(Y/N) POV****

Its been three months since Dean mother fucking Winchester took your heart out of your chest and stomped on it, ran it over with a semi, and tore it to shreds. He claimed to have loved you and acted in a different manner. He didn’t deserve your love or your time but that didn’t change the fact that your heart still ached for him so you threw yourself into hunting.

Maybe tracking a whole vamp nest on your own wasn’t the greatest idea but you thought that if you were dead you would feel the pain anymore. So, thus started your suicide mission.

You got to the barn and counted roughly 15 vamps in the area. You grabbed your machete and bow and quiver that was filled with arrows covered in dead man’s blood and started shooting. You got about six vamps down with arrows outside and cut their heads off, but once you entered the barn that’s when you knew it was all over. You were able to get two more vamps but then four of them surrounded you and disarmed you. This when you knew it was over.

Two of them bit into each side of your neck while the other two held you down. As they slowly sucked the life out of you, you could finally feel the pain go away. All the heartache was gone. As your life was coming to an end as the vamps’ dinner good memories of Dean and you flashed before your eyes. The last one being the final good night you had spent together where you and Dean just cuddled in each other’s arms whispering I love you’s to each other. That’s when your eyes fluttered shut and the whole world went black. You were dead.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And with a sad heart I say bye to you and wave

Kicking shadows on the street for every mistake that I had made

And like a baby boy I never was a man

Until I saw your blue eyes cry and I held your face in my hand

And then I fell down yelling, “Make it go away!”

Just make a smile come back and shine just like it used to be

And then she whispered, “How can you do this to me?”

****Dean’s POV****

Dean heard a knock at his door. It was Sam.

“I’m not in the mood Sam, just leave me alone,” Dean said.

“Dean, let me in. I have news. It’s about (Y/N),” Sam pleaded.

This peaked his interest. He opened the door to let Sam in and noticed the expression on his face. Sam looked upset with eyes red and puffy.

“What is it Sam? Is she ok?” Dean asked.

“Dean, she’s……….ummm…….she’s dead,” Sam replied with tears starting to stream down his cheeks, choking up a bit.

“No….no no no no. You’re wrong. You have to be. I let her go so she would be ok,” Dean responded with his body starting to tremble.

“I wish I was, Dean, but I’m not. She’s gone. From what I heard she was distraught after whatever it is that you said to her and she threw herself into the job. She was tracking a nest of vamps on her own and there were too many of them. She was overpowered. But I know (Y/N) and I know that she would never take on a job that was too big for her to handle. So this leads me to believe that she knew she wouldn’t make it out of there alive. Despite her valent effort, killing 8 of the 15 in the nest, she knew it was a suicide mission and I’m beginning to think that was the point. And before you go packing up to hunt the rest of the nest down like I know you are thinking of doing its been taken care of by other hunters,” Sam said with a hint of anger in his voice.

“How do you know that other hunters got them all?” Dean inquired.

“I talk with some of the other hunters that are around and these guys knew (Y/N) was always with us and let me know. They told me they found her notes and that this particular nest had only 15 vamps and they got them all,” Sam answered.

“This is all my fault,” Dean said.

“Not completely, she is the one who took the job Dean,” Sam retorted.

“Sam get out I need to be alone,” and with that Sam left.

Dean started to bawl his eyes out. The tears just spilling from his eyes. This was all his fault. It was a mistake to leave you. It was his mistake and it was that mistake that got you killed. Breaking your heart to keep you safe was a childish way to handle this situation. That was not the decision a man would have made. Sam was right. He was always right.  

Dean could still see the tears you shed that night at the bar breaking his heart. He could still see the devastation on your face when you caught him. He fell to his knees shouting to the rooftops to make it go away. The pain. Make it all stop. But it never would nor should it.

He tried to remember your smile and the way it used to light up the whole world. He wanted to hold on to this to help with the pain to help keep your spirit alive. But, all he could remember was the look of hurt on your face that night and screaming ‘How could you do this to me?’ That would be the memory that stuck in his mind. The only memory of you that his head would allow him to have. The pain would never end and maybe it shouldn’t.

[themaninflannel]

wind beneath your wings

Summary: reader has a rough time after a few rough hunts, she withdraws from the boys and dean worries a whole lot

Pairing: Dean x reader

Warnings: lowkey suicide, hospital things, anxiety things-everything is from an outside perspective so it doesn't get too into her head, angst, depression stuff

Word count: ~1300

A/N: so this is for @thing-you-do-with-that-thing’s Anti-Valentines Challenge! also I’m really sorry i dropped the ball and didn’t post anything original last week, it was just a really long and overwhelming week and just generally a rough little while and I didn't have time to write anything! oh and the lyrics are bolded! i hope this counts as angst, it's my first time writing it!

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh. It must have been cold there in my shadow, to never have sunlight on your face. You were content to let me shine, that’s your way. You always walked a step behind.

Deans POV 

We had just gotten to our motel after a long drive coming off of from a few rough back to back hunts, Y/N followed me through our motel room door silently just to immediately make a beeline for one of the beds. For the whole drive, she had sat in the back seat of Baby with her headphones in just staring out the window. I knew what was going through her head. She was blaming herself.

So I was the one with all the glory, while you were the one with all the strength. A beautiful face without a name for so long. A beautiful smile to hide the pain.

On the last hunt, we had lost a couple of civilians, Y/N blamed herself for it. I honestly don’t know why, she was amazing. I don’t know how she did it, she was our rock-I don’t know about Sam but she has put me back together more times than I can count. But on hunts she was always perfect; so, this time she got taken out by a surprise attack, happens to the best of us, but she puts it all on her shoulders. I turned to check on her and make sure she was ok but she had already fallen asleep. Her tiny body was curled up into a ball on top of the blankets with her earbuds still in her ears, she hadn’t even changed into her pajamas or taken off her glasses. I shifted her so she was under at least one of the covers and put her glasses on the nightstand. 

A few hours later Sam and I decided to go to a bar and see if anything weird had happened in the Podunk town we were in. I crouched next to Y/N's bed to see if she wanted to go with us but she just burrowed her face into the pillow and shook her head before falling asleep again.

Did you ever know that you're my hero, and everything I would like to be? I can fly higher than an eagle, 'cause you are the wind beneath my wings.

She had worked herself ragged going nonstop on those hunts. She was always there with the research we needed or an extra gun. I didn’t press the bar that night cause I thought she deserved to have a night off. But it worries me, she hadn’t been herself for a while now. She used to come out with us and always be laughing, of course even then she had her bad days. But something feels different now. the light has gone out of her eyes a little, not entirely but enough to notice. Ever since that hunt and that night in the motel where she slept like a rock for 18 hours, it makes me worry. 

Every time we found a new hunt or took a night to relax at a bar, she always says she wants to do research or crash early, she's been sleeping more than usual during the day but at night she can't sleep. I'll find her tossing and turning or just staring at the ceiling, I know that her mental health is an ongoing struggle and I think lately it's been more so than normal. 

It might have appeared to go unnoticed, but I've got it all here in my heart. I want you to know I know the truth, of course I know it. I would be nothing without you.

It breaks my heart that she puts all of this on herself and it breaks my heart, even more, to know that i can't fix it, this is her battle to fight. I can support her in it; just as she has always supported me in mine, she has always been there for me and held me up when i thought i couldn't go on anymore, and now i am going to do the same for her. whatever she needs from me I will do. 

On my worst days, she has been a pillar of hope and its what makes me love her. not that she knows, but i don't want to put the stress of dealing with my feelings on her. i just want to do for her what she has done for me. and so I'm not going to give up.

Months after that hunt she finally agreed to come with us on a vamp case, we thought it would just be a simple case but it turned out to be a nest. the three of us went in, machetes swinging, and fought our way through. at one point she got separated from us and had a shit ton of vamps on her. i watched her fight and fight and then she waivered, i watched her give up, i watched the love of my life stop fighting her battles. i couldn't get to her before they did but i slashed my way through the vamps by me as fast as i could. 

When i finally got to her, i killed the remaining ones and had Sam call an ambulance because she was unconscious. i rode in the back of the ambulance with her on the way to the closest ER, the paramedics said she had some sort of brain injury but they couldn't be sure until the brain doctor looked at the scans.  as soon as we got there she got admitted and the doctors took her away and wouldn't let me follow. Sam and I found the waiting room and camped out until the doctors came out. i had been barely holding it together but i lost it when they said she was in a coma. They said she would probably wake up but the longer she was out the less likely it would be. that night i made camp next to her hospital bed, i brought the blanket that her friends made her, it always made her feel better, when she was down she wrapped herself up in it and called it a 'hug from her friends'. 

“Did you ever know that you're my hero? You're everything I wish I could be. I could fly higher than an eagle, 'cause you are the wind beneath my wings. Did I ever tell you you're my hero? You're everything, everything I wish I could be. Oh, and I, I could fly higher than an eagle, 'cause you are the wind beneath my wings, 'cause you are the wind beneath my wings. Oh, the wind beneath my wings. You, you, you, you are the wind beneath my wings. Fly, fly, fly away. You let me fly so high. Oh, you, you, you, the wind beneath my wings. Oh, you, you, you, the wind beneath my wings......”

Readers POV

“....Fly, fly, fly high against the sky, so high I almost touch the sky. Thank you, thank you, thank God for you, the wind beneath my wings.”

his voice slowly came into clarity, but i was still really out of it and couldn't open my eyes or move yet and i drifted off again before i had mustered the strength to tell him i heard his song. that is the song he sings to me after Sam crashes when he thinks I'm asleep or what i sing to him when he has had a rough time. I think of it as out song, not that i would ever tell him that. there's a lot that i haven't told him, but those things are my problem, not his.

“oh, baby I'm so sorry. i shouldn't have pushed you to hunt before you were ready, when we knew it was a dig case i should have asked...i should have let you sit out. I'm so sorry. i love you so much and i need you to wake up...just please wake up for me, Y/N...”

i felt his head fall onto my stomach as he finished his little speech. we laid in silence like that for a while until i could tell him what my body had been screaming since i heard that song.

“you love me?” i whispered, the words coming out more like a croak than i meant it to be. he lifted his head with a sad look in his eyes, his mouth was slightly open, his tongue poking through his lips, and freckles stained with tears.

“you're awake?” he collapses back on top of me, his head in the crook of my neck, crushing me in a giant bear hug, i could feel him start crying against my neck.

“you love me?” i repeated, stunned.

“do we have to talk about that right now, shouldn't i be getting a doctor or something?” still talking quietly he sat on the edge of my bed, holding my hands and fiddling with my fingers, tears flowing freely now.

i brought my free hand up to his cheek and wiped away the tears with my thumb, he closed his eyes and leaned into my palm. i squeezed his hand with mine and pulled his face down to mine, not quite kissing him yet just enjoying his face being close, something I've wanted for so long.

“i love you too,” i said against his lips, barely audible. as soon as i uttered those words he closed the distance, pushing his plush lips against my cracked ones.

[megansescape]

Alone or not.

This is my entry for both @thing-you-do-with-that-thing‘s Anti-valentines day challenge and also @impalaimagining‘s 600 follower challenge. My Anti-Valentines prompt was the song Nothing Compares 2 U. My prompt 600 follower prompt was “Tonight’s my last night here.” This is un-beta’d so any and all mistakes are my own. Tags are below the cut, I have used the SPN Fanfic Pond tag list. If you have been tagged incorrectly please let me know and I will remove you asap.

Summary: The reader and Dean spend one last night together.

Pairing: Dean X Reader.

Warnings: Mild smut, Angst.

Word count: 1,602.

**Bang Bang Bang**

Rushing to the door, you opened it quickly already knowing who waited for you on the other side. Grabbing a fistful of shirt, you hauled the man inside, slamming the door behind him.

“Damn baby slow down. We have all night.” He said to me cockily as I started working on his belt, fingers fumbling against the buckle. You finally managed to unbuckle him, ripping the leather from his jean loops, you threw it towards the bed and started working on removing his shirt. He chuckled at your eagerness, his own hands reaching for your shirt albeit at a much slower pace, he knew that if he teased you it would drive you wild and he would have you literally begging him to take you. As you worked the flannel off of his shoulders and down his strong, muscular arms, you felt your arousal spike once more, you had always had a thing for his arms, knowing their strength first hand as he took down monster and took you against walls. You grew impatient with his shirt, choosing instead to rip it straight down the middle and yanking the the torn shirt off of his body in one clean movement.

As he began shrugging off the last of his tops, you quickly removed your unbuttoned shirt and popped open the button of your jeans. Looking at Dean in a moment of calm, you saw him finish taking off his boots and socks, matching your own bare feet. You smiled at him softly, shyness taking over for a split second before your hunger began to burn once more. Reaching to grasp his jaw in your hands, you pulled his lips to yours for your first kiss of the night. Gently pressing his tongue against the seam of your lips, silently asking for entrance which you gave freely. As the kiss began to grow more passionate you felt yourself getting wetter with each passing moment, you pulled away from the kiss the kneel down and remove Dean’s jeans. You let the denim pool at his ankles, Dean kicking them of recklessly, accidentally kneeing you in the breast. You let out a hiss of pain, as your hands came up quickly to cradle the injured area. A deep ache settled into your tissue as Dean quickly dropped to his knees in front of you, apologising profusely.

“Baby...Baby. I am so so sorry. I didn’t mean to catch you like that. I am so sorry. Please forgive me.” He knelt there before you a guilt-ridden expression on his face and the situation caught up with you. You began to giggle, the pure absurdity of being kneed in the breast during sex was hilarious and soon both you and dean were knelt on the floor laughing. As your laughter began to die down, you locked eyes with Dean, the tension lifting and you both drew into a slow and sensual kiss. Your passion still burned but you wanted to take your time and savour each moment. You stood up and looked down at Dean as he knelt on the ground, looking up at you in wonder, love shining clearly in his eyes. You stroked your thumb across his plump lips, smiling as he pressed a soft kiss against the pad of your thumb. He leaned his head forward, pressing his forward against your stomach as your hand moved to cradle the back of his head. He placed a kiss on your skin, before moving slightly and kissing another patch of skin and another, until he was trailing kisses down your stomach reaching the opened button of your jeans. He placed his hands behind your knees, running them up the back of your thighs slowly as he continued to kiss the sliver of exposed skin that was displayed by your open jeans. His hands gripped the top of your jeans, pulling them down off of your hips and thighs before letting them drop slowly, the fabric tickling your legs as it grazed passed your skin.

He stood slowly keeping his head close to your skin as he did so, his nose brushing up your stomach before coming to rest on the little bow on your bra. He stayed there for a couple of seconds, his head nestled between your breasts, you could feel the vibrations of his voice against your skin but you couldn’t make out the words. Pulling at his hair, you moved his head away to catch the tail end of his apparently lengthy apology to your breasts.

“Dean… Baby. That’s weird... talking to my breasts. I am just gonna leave it though as I just need you… NOW!!!” You pushed him back onto the bed and crawled on top of him. You were determined to make every second count.

****************************************************************************************************

You and Dean laid in bed, wrapped in each other’s arms. You were breathing in his scent and basking in the afterglow of yet another round of love making. Looking over at the clock you could see it was nearly four am, Dean noticed you looking at the time and let out a deep sigh. Neither of you wanted to have this conversation but it still happened every year.

“Tonight’s my last night here.” Dean spoke softly but the words seemed to echo around the dark room. This couldn’t happen now, you needed more time, you just had to talk to him and make him see that this could last a little longer..

“Please Dean, just one more night baby. I just need one last night with you.” You begged him. He pulled you closer, placing a gentle kiss on your head.

“That’s what you said last time babe. Plus the time before that...and the time before that. Every time for the past six years. I have to move on Y/N. We both do.” You looked up at him, shaking your head as tears started to stream down your cheeks. “I can’t give you the life you deserve, you need to start looking towards your future, not your past.”

“I don’t have a future without you Dean. What am I supposed to do without you?” Sobs began to escape you as you saw tears fall from his emerald eyes. You knew there would be no talking him around this time. It was time to make your final goodbyes.

Damn it, damn it all. Why did it have to be like this? You had been happy together before but this life is so cruel. Hunting had been the way you had met, unfortunately it had also been the reason you had been torn apart.

Dean had got up from the bed and had started to get dressed, you followed his lead. You moved slower, reluctant for this night to end. As you dressed you looked at Dean’s face, determined to commit every line and freckle to memory, the thought of forgetting a single thing was terrifying to you. All too soon you were both dressed and ready to say your goodbyes, Dean’s hands were trembling as he grasped your shoulders, pulling you in for one final embrace. The pain inside you was so strong, building stronger with every breath you took. You didn’t see how he could expect you to look to the future, no matter what you did or who you met nothing would compare to him.

As he held you in his arms you couldn’t help but start to cry, it’d been so lonely without him with you. When he was gone all you could think about was when you would see him again, you couldn’t go out, you couldn’t breath properly without him beside you. The rage of losing him had fueled you in your hunts these past six years, but you always knew he would be back. Now he that he wouldn’t return, you didn’t think you would even have the heart to get out of bed, never mind the very things that had torn your life apart.

Letting go of you, he moved towards your bag, unzipping the small compartment where he knew you kept it safe. Reaching into the pocket, he pulled out his necklace, the only thing you had left of him. The necklace had been a huge part of his life, having been given it by Sam, he wore it all the time. The two of you were the only ones to know that before Sam burned his body, you had taken off his necklace, as a way to keep him close to you.

You stood there watching helplessly, as Dean walked over to the table and place the necklace in a small bowl and doused it with fuel. Looking over at you he motioned you forward. You quickly stepped to his side, breathing in his scent one last time.

“You have to do it Y/N. I want to spend my last seconds looking into your beautiful eyes.” Dean spoke so calmly, you knew he was ready to move on. The two of you turned to face each other, the bowl on the table at your side. He passed you a match as he stared into your eyes. You lit it and held it over the bowl.

“Goodbye Dean.” You whispered, closing your eyes.

“I love you Y/N.” He whispered back, placing a sweet kiss on your forehead just as you dropped the match. You felt the pressure of his kiss vanish, a single sob broke from your lips. You opened your eyes, staring at the blank space in front of you. This was your final goodbye.

“I love you Dean.”

Forever Tags:  @inmysparetime0 @mamaredd123 @your-average-distracted-waffle @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @atc74 @babypieandwhiskey @idreamofhazel @chelsea072498

Pond Tags:  @manawhaat @purgatoan @nichelle-my-belle @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @notnaturalanahi @salvachester @roxy-davenport @impala-dreamer @samsgoddess @frenchybell @for-the-love-of-dean @mysupernaturalfics @spn-fan-girl-173 @deandoesthingstome @jelly-beans-and-gstrings @fiveleaf @deansleather @waywardjoy @mrswhozeewhatsis @supernatural-jackles @wevegotworktodo @jpadjackles @quiddy-writes @wi-deangirl77 @deantbh @supermoonpanda @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @chaos-and-the-calm67 @memariana91 @plaidstiel-wormstache @chelsea-winchester @fandommaniacx @writingbeautifulmen @revwinchester @castieltrash1 @supernaturalyobessed @ruined-by-destiel @winchester-writes @deals-with-demons @maraisabellegrey @faith-in-dean @bennyyh 

[spn-and-daddy-issues]

Shatter

Word Count: 1k

A/N: This was written for @thing-you-do-with-that-thing‘s Angst/Anti-Valentine’s Day Challenge, with the song Shatter by O.A.R. as a prompt. 

Warnings: descriptions of injury

Sam dragged Dean in and down the stairs, both covered in blood, leaning on each other heavily.

“What happened?” you tried to avoid yelling, but your voice broke to match the shape that your heart was in.

“It was a trap.” Sam exhaled loudly, struggling under the weight of his brother. He got him down to one of the rooms set up to manage the small surgeries you did for them pretty regularly.

You got to work quickly, getting alcohol and gauze out on the counter right away as Sam took Dean’s shirt off before he collapsed into his own chair.

As you turned to face both of them again you were shocked by the picture that greeted you, the two people you cared about most in the world hurt and covered in blood. It had happened too many times. How many times could you break until you simply shattered?

Pushing those thoughts from your mind, you returned to the task at hand and methodically cleaned Dean’s chest and face, finding the source of much of the blood along the way and stitching it up wound by wound.  His breathing was steady, easing some of your concern for his unresponsiveness, but it still wasn’t easy to see this much damage done to someone you cared about so much.

After you finished taking care of Dean’s wounds, you turned to Sam and got back to work. He had already taken a few drinks straight from a bottle of whiskey, enough to dull the pain so that he didn’t flinch too much when you poured the rubbing alcohol straight into the slice on the back of his shoulder. You were relieved to see that it was the only source of Sam’s own blood, but it was still difficult to see him grimacing each time you pushed the needle through his skin with each stitch.

Dean started coming back to as you were putting the supplies back in their respective cupboards and Sam had gone to take a shower and find some clean clothes.

He tried sitting up too quickly and his eyes widened as he got woozy. “Woah there sparky, easy.” You caught his shoulders and lowered him back down so he was lying flat again.

“Thanks sweetheart.” His eyes shut again, but he reached out and caught your hand in his. “Really, thank you. For always putting us back together.”

“That’s what I’m here for. Relax, when Sammy comes back we’ll help you get cleaned up the rest of the way and into bed to rest up.”

Dean released your hand and nodded his head slightly.

A while later Sam did return and with each of you under a shoulder, you were able to guide Dean to his bedroom where you left to let Sam help Dean change out of his remaining bloody clothes and get settled in.

You found yourself wandering up the stairs and out of the bunker stumbling out of the door at the top into the pouring rain. The drops were cool and refreshing on your face, focusing your thoughts. You needed a break, a break from this burned-out scene of injuries and hurts that you patched up but could never really heal. Wounds that ran far deeper than the skin and muscle that was damaged on a regular basis as a part of this life.

The next few days were rough, every time you brought Dean food because he was still bedridden, or changed the bandages on either of the brothers’ wounds you felt your insides breaking a bit more, bringing you closer and closer to fully shattering. Right into pieces, right there on the floor.

Once they were both healed up enough to tend to themselves you excused yourself to go on a supply run to restock the kitchen.

You took deep breaths as you drove into town, debating your own strength and ability to turn the car around and get back to the bunker. Of course you would, you always turned the car around. You always held yourself together, went back to the boys, went back to being torn apart piece by piece as the Winchester brothers tried to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders.

Before long your cart was full, enough food and beer to fully restock both of the fridges back at the bunker, and you were feeling slightly better by the rhythm of the activity. This was the typical cycle, all you needed was some time, even if you were shattered, you’d pull yourself together and turn the car back to face the bunker and back to the boys.

Sam met you at the top of the stairs and helped you carry the groceries in, staying unusually quiet as he did so.

“Are you okay, Y/N?”

“Huh?”

“Are you okay? You’ve seemed really weighed down the past few days. We’re just worried about you, want to make sure you’re alright.”

You smiled convincingly, “Yeah Sammy, I’m good.”

There was still doubt in his eyes, but he accepted your answer for the time being.

A week later the boys were healed enough and headed back out on a hunt. They reassured you that it was an easy salt and burn and that there was nothing to worry about. Sam’s shoulder had closed up well and Dean had finally begun to move around without showing signs of being in pain.

You spent the next few days at the bunker by yourself, doing some cleaning and spending extensive time in the library. You enjoyed digging through the information that was archived in the depths of the book cases and files. You rarely came across anything that Sam and Dean didn’t already know and have experience with, but you were far newer to the world of hunting and the more you could learn on your own the better.

The library was where you were when you heard the door clang shut.

“Y/N, a little help?” you heard Dean’s voice echoing through the rooms.

You raced out towards the stairs to see a familiar scene, both boys covered in blood, in need of more stitches.

This scene was far too familiar. Another crack tore through your heart.

How many times could you break til you shattered?

[revwinchester]

Eyes That Know

Summary: The reader is a rock star with heavy addiction issues.  Sam is a former rocker who has been to rehab and been sober for a number of years.  When the two meet at a party sparks fly and they fall into a romance.  After losing one girlfriend to addiction, Sam can’t do it again and makes the reader choose between him and her drugs.  

Author: revwinchester

Pairing/Characters: Sam Winchester x Reader, Lucifer, Dean Winchester, Adam Milligan, Jimmy Novak, Ruby, Amelia Richardson

Word Count: 5697, including lyrics (which are italicized throughout)

Warnings: talk and use of soft and hard drugs, implied prostitution, cocaine overdose, major character deaths, mention of minor character death, mental illness - specifically addiction, anxiety, and depression, all the angst.  Also, one of the character deaths could be read as suicide - though it’s not intended to be one - and the song lyrics mention the historical suicide of Vincent Van Gogh.

A/N: This ended up being for two challenges and it is the angstiest thing I have ever written.  I cried while I wrote it.  First, @nichelle-my-belle is hosting Nichelle’s 4K Angst Challenge and my prompt was “if you kill all my demons, my angels might die too.”  I was looking for a song to frame the fic when @thing-you-do-with-that-thing announced the SPN Anti-Valentine’s Challenge and I saw one of the prompts was “Josh Groban - Starry Night,” which is a cover of Don McLean’s “Vincent,” a song I absolutely love.  You can bet I snapped that one up real quick! Click on each of the links to head to youtube for two different versions of the song.  They are so different but each are beautiful in their own right (though, if you’ve never heard it before, I recommend you start with the original).

Your name: submit What is this? // <![CDATA[ function replaceAll(find, replace, str) { return str.replace(new RegExp(find, 'g'), replace); } function myHandler() { var input = document.getElementById("inputTxt").value; document.body.innerHTML = replaceAll('Y/N', document.getElementById("inputTxt").value, document.body.innerHTML); } // ]]>

Eyes That Know - 

Starry, starry night Paint your palette blue and gray Look out on a summer's day With eyes that know the darkness in my soul Shadows on the hills Sketch the trees and the daffodils Catch the breeze and the winter chills In colors on the snowy linen land

You spied him across the room at an industry party: Sam Winchester.  You had always loved Vessel, the band he had played with, and had been disappointed when he had hung up his bass guitar and let his brothers replace him.  You had heard the stories about why he had done all that, of course.  How he had gotten addicted to cocaine, been convinced by his older brother to go to rehab, and ultimately decided that he needed to get out of the business if he was going to stay sober.  He’d stayed in L.A. in order to be close to his brother, Dean, and his half brother, Adam Milligan, the other two original members of Vessel.  If Sam was here, that probably meant his brothers were somewhere nearby, too.  

You had just taken a hit and were feeling relaxed and confident as your eyes followed his movements through the room.  Soon enough, he looked up, likely feeling someone watching him, and his gorgeous hazel eyes were locked with yours.  He quickly finished the conversation in which he was engaged and made his way over to you.

“You’re Y/N,” he declared.  “One of Lucifer’s clients?”

“And you’re Sam Winchester,” you replied coolly, despite the fact that you were fangirling inside now that he was standing right in front of you.  

Sam tilted his glass toward you in ascent and the two of you fell into easy conversation, turning out the crowd for the rest of the evening.  At one point, Sam noticed your hand shaking a bit and asked if you were alright.

“Oh, yeah.  Just coming down,” you told him.

Sam’s face fell and you rushed to comfort him.  “Nothing hard, I swear.  Luc encouraged me to talk to someone about my anxiety and then he helped me get my meds without being spotted by the paparazzi.”  It wasn’t a lie, not entirely anyway.  You had talked to someone about anxiety, you didn’t do hard drugs, and Lucifer had provided you with what you had taken to deal with your anxiety tonight.  You just didn’t mention that you were self medicating.  

Sam smiled again.  It didn’t quite reach his eyes but you could tell he wanted to believe you and that you’d be able to win him over again.  “How about we get out of here and you take me to dinner?” you suggested.

Sam agreed and texted his brother, letting him know he’d be leaving.  You tossed him your keys and he gave you a quizzical look.  “If you’re taking me out, you’re driving,” you sassed, before turning to walk toward the door, knowing that Sam was following you like an overgrown puppy dog.  You led him to your car with him still questioning how you knew he didn’t have a car at the party he needed to get home.  “I figure you probably arrived with Dean and Adam since you had to tell one of them you’d be leaving.”  You slid into the passenger seat of your Jaguar F-Type, unsure if Sam’s gigantic frame would actually fit now that you were at the car.  

He managed to squeeze in, though.  As soon as Sam started the convertible, you hit the button to open the top of the car, giving the man all the headroom in the world while he adjusted the seat to accommodate his long legs.

Sam drove you to a diner about 45 minutes outside of Hollywood.  It was a bit of a trek but the food was good and the owner was a friend of Dean’s, he told you, so he trusted that there wouldn’t be any leak of your date and the two of you wouldn’t end up surrounded by cameras.

You were seated and ordered quickly before the conversation turned to their music.  “So, you switched the music from your iPod to the radio pretty quickly in the car,” Sam began, making you blush.

You had been listening to one of Vessel’s earlier releases, from when Sam was still in the band, on your way to the party and had hoped you’d been quick enough and he hadn’t noticed.  No such luck, apparently.  

“Well, you knew I was one of Lucifer’s clients so, you’re allowed to know about my career but I can’t be a fan of yours?” You asked cheekily.  

Sam laughed.  “Of course you can, I just… that was “Family Business,” right? That album was 12 years ago.  How old were you then, even?”

“Old enough,” you replied with a wink.  And it was true, Sam wasn’t that much older than you but Lucifer had suggested playing up your youth and innocence in order to sell yourself and you had gone along with it.  Now that you were about to come out with your third album it was time for your “sexual awakening” or, at least, the sexualization of your brand.  You were grateful that you wouldn’t have to play the role of a virginal school girl anymore.  While you weren’t quite as risque as Lucifer was pushing the brand, it definitely lined up more with your actual personality than the image you’d been portraying for the past three years.  “God, I was so in love with you guys when I was a teenager,” you admitted.  

“Oh yeah?” Sam asked, cocking an eyebrow.  “Tell me more.”

“Well, I mean, what’s not to love?  You’ve got Dean fronting the band with his obvious talent on guitar, that whiskey rough voice, and those entrancing green eyes, not to mention lips that were just made to be kissed.  And Adam on drums, so young and innocent but those muscles… mmm… and always looking so serious about everything.”  You were making him suffer a little for asking the question and you could see in Sam’s eyes that he knew it.  “And then there was that bass player.  Don’t get me wrong, Jimmy is great and the band sounds almost as good as ever but that original guy… kind of quiet and mysterious, like you’d expect from a bass player, with gorgeous hair that you just want to run your fingers through before you give it a good tug while he’s kissing his way down your body, and, oh, don’t get me started on those strong, agile fingers…”

Your teasing was definitely having an effect on Sam but just as he made to stand, probably to pull you out of the diner and into a bed, your food arrived.  You scooped up your burger and took a bite, some of the juice dripping down your chin before you could wipe it away with a napkin.  Sam resettled himself on his side of the table and tucked into his meal, too, the hungry look in his eyes fading slightly as the two of you ate and chatted about less sexually charged things.  

When your meals were about half done, you decided to bring up a touchy subject.  “So, you seemed pretty crestfallen back there when I mentioned my meds were wearing off,” you pressed gently.  “Wanna tell me about that?”

“Oh, uh, that.  Yeah,” Sam stuttered, trying to buy himself a little time.

“If you don’t want to, it’s ok, Sam,” you apologized.  “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Sam was looking at the table instead of at you as he spoke and you thought he might need that buffer in order to get his story out.  “I mean, if you know the band’s history, you know mine.  Or, part of it, at least.  I was using cocaine, almost killed myself because of it.  My girlfriend at the time had introduced me to the stuff and, God, the rush that came along with it… Ruby was, well, she was something else, that’s for sure.  Dean kept trying to tell me she was bad for me but I didn’t listen.  I thought I was functioning at a level I’d never reached before.  But then Ruby got killed in a drug deal gone bad,” Sam’s voice had shifted to a whisper and you reached a hand across the table to grab one of his hands.  “Stabbed, actually, in an abandoned church.  I was standing right there, saw the whole thing happen and there was nothing I could do to stop it.  If Dean hadn’t followed us that night, if he hadn’t been hiding right outside the door and pulled me out of there, I don’t think I would have made it out alive, either.”  Sam paused and took a shuddering breath.  

“I’m so sorry, Sam.  I didn’t realize all that,” you offered.  You really hadn’t intended to dredge up memories quite like this.  

“No, it’s good,” Sam assured you.  “No one ever talks about this side of things, at least, not in specifics, and maybe we should.  But, anyway, that’s when Dean finally got me to agree that I needed help.  He dropped me off at a rehab program before I had a chance to change my mind.  When I got out, I tried to get back into the music world, back on the stage and in the studio, but I realized that the lifestyle pulled me right back to the edge of using again.  So, I left.  I helped Dean and Adam find Jimmy and left most of that life behind. ��Obviously, I’m still tangentially connected to all of it but I’ve found a good balance.”

You squeezed his hand to reassure Sam you were still there.

“Thanks,” he said, finally looking up at you again.  “Thanks.”

“No, thank you, Sam.”  Your voice was sincere.  His story had touched you.  You weren’t going to end up like Ruby; you’d be smarter.

“Anyway,” Sam continued, “I write now.  I wrote most of the music for Vessel before and I still write a lot of their stuff,” he told you.  “You, uh, you’ve sung a few of my songs, too; ended up being some of my most popular pieces, recently.  So, thanks for that.”

“No way,” you replied.  “I’d remember if Sam Winchester had the writing credit on any of my songs.”

“Well, he doesn’t,” Sam laughed.  “Only Vessel gets my real name on the credits.  You’ve done songs by G. Adreel, though.”

A shy smile spread across Sam’s face as he watched your eyes go wide.  “That’s you?” you gushed and he nodded.  “You’ve written some of my favorite songs that I’ve recorded!”

The two of you talked about life, careers, and music.  You shared some about your own history and Sam told you more about his family.  Before either of you realized, it was nearly 4 AM and Sam’s phone dinged with a text alert.

“It’s Dean,” he explained.  “He’s wondering if I’m ever coming home.”

It was so clear that Sam loved his brother fiercely and, from his stories, you knew that the sentiment was returned.  They hadn’t grown up with Adam but, once they had learned about his existence, they had welcomed him into the fold with open arms.  All of that only served to endear the younger Winchester to you even further.

Sam settled the bill and you both started the drive back to LA.  Over the coming months, you continued to write and record, paying special attention to any songs that came across your radar that had been written by Mr. Adreel.  All the while, your relationship with Sam was growing.  You shared a few more weeks of dinners well outside of LA before finally releasing a statement through your publicist and taking your relationship public.  

During these months, your manager continued to help you deal with your anxiety, upping the ante with various concoctions before finally convincing you to try cocaine.  “It’s going to be like magic,” Lucifer had assured you and he had been right.  Your confidence soared and your mind was rife with ideas.  You started relying on other writers less and less, preferring to write your own music and, aside from two amazing pieces by G. Adreel that you couldn’t pass up, your third album was full of original songs you had written.

You promised yourself that you would be careful.  You only took small amounts just before you sat down to write or backstage immediately before a performance.  This wasn’t an addiction; you were in total control.  You made the decision to start boosting your confidence before interviews and when the small amounts weren’t giving you the creative jumpstart you needed, you knew it was the right thing to up the dosage.  You never used the magic in the hours before you saw Sam.  Until once, when you misjudged how long the high would last.  You couldn’t go out with him while you were coming down, he’d notice for sure so you made another line of the white powder.  Just this once, you told yourself, just to get through this date without Sam finding out.

Now I understand What you tried to say to me How you suffered for your sanity How you tried to set them free They would not listen,  They did not know how Perhaps they'll listen now

“You can’t keep doing this, Y/N.  You can’t live like this,” Sam told her, tears forming in his eyes.  “I can’t go down this road again and I can’t watch you kill yourself.  Please go to rehab.  I’ll take you; no one will know you’re there.  You are such a light, Y/N.  Don’t let this win.  Please.”  He knew he was begging but he didn’t care.  He loved this woman but he couldn’t do this again.  Not after Ruby.  He wouldn’t go down this path again and he couldn’t watch Y/N destroy herself either.

“If you kill all my demons, my angels might die too,” Y/N replied fearfully.

“No, baby, you don’t… You don’t need that crap.  Not to perform, not to create.  All that beauty is already in you,” Sam rasped, the tears spilling onto his cheeks.  He had never seen Y/N this bad.  He had known she was using, had helped her through some bad highs and offered to help her beat it.  Sam had suggested rehab previously, but she’d always brushed him off, told him that she just needed to finish writing or recording or get through the next tour first and then she’d stop.  The date had been continually pushed back and he’d been content to go along with her.  But she’d been late for more and more dates and interviews and had recently begun standing him up and skipping jobs all together, sometimes disappearing for a few days at a time without any word or indication that she was alright.  To say that Sam was worried about her would be a gross understatement.

“It’s in you, not in this stuff,” Sam insisted, a pit forming in his stomach as he felt his heart break.

“Sam, I…” Y/N began but he interrupted her.

“Please,” Sam begged.  “Please.”  Even to his own ears, Sam’s voice sounded so broken.

“I… I can’t Sam.  I just can’t.  Without this I’m nothing.”

The words cut deep. Sam had heard these words before.  Hell, he’d said them before.  To his brother after Ruby had gotten him hooked on the white powder, but hearing them directed at him, hearing that this relationship, his love for this woman meant nothing compared to the high… he knew it was the addiction talking but he was still gutted by her words.  

Sam had been clean for about 8 years now but even so, the allure of the cocaine was there in the back of his mind.  He knew he’d never touch the stuff again but he also knew the high, the feeling of power, of being invincible, that he was missing out on.  But Y/N was beyond any of that right now.  Sam looked at his strung out girlfriend and tried one more time.  “Please, Y/N.  Come with me; let me get you some help.”

“I don’t need help, Sam,” she snapped, “I need to write.”  Her voice was barely a whisper and she was shaking so hard that Sam knew she wouldn’t be writing a thing.

Sam knew what he had to do, he just hoped she’d make it through all of this and get the help she needed.  “I can’t do this, Y/N.”  His voice was hard and he schooled his face into an expression to match his tone.  

Y/N looked up at him with tears in her eyes.  “Sammy, no…” she whispered.

He reached down and grabbed the plastic bag of powder that was sitting beside her.   “It’s me or this shit, Y/N.  You can’t have both.”  He knew the ultimatum was harsh but he needed to be clear with her.  He’d lost Ruby to this life and he couldn’t watch as Y/N, someone he actually loved, destroyed herself.

He stood for a moment as her eyes darted between his own hazel eyes and the bag of cocaine he had taken from her.  Her silence spoke volumes.  Sam threw the bag back to the floor in front of her, the cocaine spilling out in a white cloud, before turning on his heel, walking through the door and out of her life.  

Starry, starry night Flaming flowers that brightly blaze Swirling clouds in violet haze Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue Colors changing hue Morning fields of amber grain Weathered faces lined in pain Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand

You sat on the floor in your apartment, your back pressed against the couch and tried to scoop up as much of the magic as you could.  That’s what this stuff was, magic.  Why couldn’t Sam see that?  Why couldn’t he remember?  Maybe if he’d just try some again, he’d remember…  The songs you were able to write when you were filled with the feelings and images… there was no way you could do it without the magic.  

You put the meager amount you had been able to collect from the carpet onto the table and picked out some of the longer fibers you had gathered along with it.  Looking at the small pile you already knew it wouldn’t be enough.  You crawled across the floor to where you had dumped your purse and dug out your cellphone before making your way back across to your spot in front of the couch.  

You pulled up your manager’s contact information and pressed the button to dial him.  While the phone rang you inhaled the powder you had gathered from the floor, breathing deeply through your nose.  

After the third ring, you heard the familiar voice that always promised either a job or a high.  “Hey babe, what can I do for you?”

“I need more, Luc,” you breathed into the phone.  

“More? Already? I told you that I wouldn’t be able to get you any more for at least a week and that you needed make the magic last.”  You could hear the smile in Lucifer’s voice but didn’t pay it any mind.

“Sam was here and…” you began but your manager cut you off.

“He was?  Is he back in the fold?” he asked you eagerly.  Lucifer had told you multiple times that it was his goal to get Sam back into Vessel.  He had managed the band but when Sam left, Luc had been kicked to the curb as well and thought that if he could get Sam to rejoin the family band, he’d get the golden egg back.  You had long since realized that, along with Ruby, Lucifer had been the one to supply Sam with cocaine and you suspected that he hoped the way back in was to get Sam hooked again.  Until you had come along, Vessel had been his most profitable venture and losing them had been a major blow to his credibility.

“No,” you told your manager, “no.  Sam is… Sam is gone.”  The words felt wrong on your tongue but the new high was kicking in and you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.  “He left.  But I’m awesome and now I can fuck whoever I want.  But there was… there was an accident, he surprised me and I dropped the bag and it spilled into the carpet.  I need to write, Luc, I need it.”  

Lucifer muttered something that you couldn’t quite make out but before you could ask about it, he spoke louder.  “I think I can get you more but it’s not going to be cheap.”

“Whatever it costs, I can pay it,” you urged.  You were one of the most popular musicians currently performing, money was not an issue and you told Lucifer as much.

“It’s not your money I want, Y/N.  In fact, I’m positive I can get you more magic than ever before now that Sam isn’t a hangup,” he informed you.  “If…” Lucifer trailed off, leaving you to anticipate his next words.

“‘If’ what,” you questioned.  

“If you give me your body,” your manager revealed.  “Think about it: all the magic you could ever want - all the creativity, the confidence, the power - no charge,” Lucifer teased.  “All you have to do is say yes.”

You didn’t hesitate.  It wasn’t even a question in your mind, you needed the magic, needed the high, needed to create.  “Yes.”

For they could not love you But still your love was true And when no hope was left in sight On that starry, starry night You took your life as lovers often do But I could have told you Vincent This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you

Sam was driving through downtown Lawrence, Kansas, on his way home from work and flipping through the radio stations when a familiar voice caught his attention.  It was Y/N’s latest single, a cover of Don McLean’s song “Vincent.”  Sam had always loved this song and Y/N’s voice and interpretation definitely did it justice.  He hadn’t seen Y/N in about a year.  He still thought about her, though; still hoped she’d call him to tell him she’d gotten help.  He still loved her, too, probably always would but he had done his best to move on.  Even now, listening to her voice singing his favorite song through his car’s speakers, he was on his way to a date with a veterinarian he’d met by chance three months ago.  

After he’d left Y/N, he realized that he needed to leave the music business and L.A. behind him completely if he ever truly wanted to get away from his past and his pain over losing her.  He’d stopped writing altogether, moved to Kansas, to the city where he had been born, and picked up a job working at a record store while he debated going back to school.

The song ended and the radio show’s hosts began talking.  “This was an interesting choice for a first single from her new album but Y/N did an amazing job with this song,” one of the hosts gushed.  Sam had to agree with him.  

His co-host interrupted him, her voice sad.  “It’s also going to be her last single and her fourth record, which released late last month, will be her final album.  We’re saddened to report the news that Y/N was found dead in her hotel room this morning, just 12 hours before she was set to kick off her latest tour at Madison Square Garden in New York City.  The early reports are saying Y/N accidentally overdosed in her room and died sometime during the night.”

Sam slammed on the breaks, nearly causing an accident.  He pulled his car onto the side of the road and frantically thrust the gear shift into park as he numbly listened to the rest of the news report.

“Though she allegedly had a number of recent flings, Y/N was most recently romantically linked to Sam Winchester, formerly of the band Vessel.  The pair was reported to have split a year ago.  She is, unfortunately, the latest member to join the likes of Jimi Hendrix, Amy Winehouse, and Kurt Cobain in the infamous 27 Club.”  The female radio host’s voice was full of emotion as she read off the news bulletin.  Though Y/N had likely never met this woman, her music had touched her and the reverence in her tone was clear.

“What is it with the age 27 and musicians?” The woman’s co-host asked.  “I feel like 28th birthdays have to be a huge deal in the music world, right?”

Sam flipped off the radio, angry at the man’s flippant tone and knowing he wasn’t going to get any more information from these people.  Tears pricked in his eyes unbidden and soon enough they were spilling onto Sam’s cheeks.  Sam sat on the side of the road and cried for... he didn’t know how long.  

He’d needed to leave, needed to get out of that situation for his own health but maybe he should have stayed a little longer, fought a little harder for Y/N.  Maybe he should have dragged her away from that life.  Maybe he hadn’t loved her enough.  If he had, maybe she’d still be alive.  Finally, the ringing of his phone pulled him out of his head.  “Hello?” Sam answered, not looking at the caller id before he hit the answer button.  

“Sam Winchester, where the hell are you?”  It was Amelia and she sounded pissed.  Sam couldn’t blame her when he noticed the time.  He was an hour late for their date.  

“I’m sorry,” Sam replied, trying to keep his voice steady.  “I was on my way over and I, uh, got some bad news.  Lost track of time.”  The excuse was a weak version of the truth but how could he tell her more?  He couldn’t tell Amelia that the woman he loved, the woman he’d probably love forever, with whom he had once pictured a future was gone.  She knew he had some demons in his past but sharing this and the story that would have to go with it was too much.  

“You’re going to need to do better than that, Winchester,” Amelia retorted.

“Someone I… an old friend died,” Sam told her, his voice breaking.

Luckily, Amelia took pity on him.  “I’m so sorry, Sam.  I’m still here if you still wanted to get dinner.  Or I could get some takeout and meet you at your place,” she offered.

“I think I just need to be alone for a little bit, Amelia,” Sam replied truthfully.  “Thank you, though.”

After a brief exchange of goodbyes and a promise to reschedule, Sam was back on the road, slowly making his way toward his apartment.  He walked through the door and immediately made a beeline for his bedroom, collapsing on the bed fully clothed.  Sam took a pillow and pressed it against his face to muffle any sound as he screamed until his throat was raw and his voice was hoarse.  

When he finally pulled the pillow away, the clock on his bedside table read 10:00.  It would only be 8:00 in LA and Dean would be finished with sound check for Vessel’s show at Purgatory, a club where they would often debut new music.  When Sam had left the band, Dean and Adam had searched high and low for a replacement before stumbling across a man named Jimmy completely by accident.  He played for all three of the brothers and then Sam listened as he played with Dean and Adam.  Jimmy was a perfect fit and he was glad that Dean and Adam would get to continue doing what they loved so much.  

Tonight, however, he resented it just a little bit.  Sam needed to talk to his brother.  Dean had been the one to help him through his own addictions and was the only one Sam trusted who had any idea of what he was going through.  But Y/N had been Dean’s friend, too, and he didn’t want to bring his brother that far down right before he had to take the stage.  Sam waited until he knew the show would have started and sent Dean a text.

To: Dean Winchester

Call me as soon as the show is over.  Don’t care how late it is.

Sam knew sleep wasn’t going to come to him that night so he made his way to the living room, stopping in the kitchen to grab a few beers, and began flipping through the channel.  TNT was showing a marathon of Y/N’s favorite show.  Something about two brothers who killed the things that go bump in the night and, though he had never enjoyed the stories, Sam found himself getting sucked into the world Y/N had loved so much as tears began to leak from his eyes again.

Starry, starry night Portraits hung in empty halls Frameless heads on nameless walls With eyes that watch the world and can't forget Like the strangers that you've met The ragged men in ragged clothes The silver thorn of bloody rose Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow

At Dean’s suggestion, Sam moved back to California.  Sam was pretty sure it was because Dean and Adam wanted to be able to keep a closer eye on their brother.  They knew he had still loved Y/N, despite having to leave her a year prior, and they were worried what her death might do to him or drive him to.  Sam had gone along with the plan without much resistance.  Once Amelia had seen him so broken up about an old girlfriend, she realized his heart would never be in their relationship, not fully, so there wasn’t much tying him to Lawrence.  

He started writing music again here and there but put most of his focus into trying to end the stigma that surrounded rehab.  “People should not be looked down upon for seeking help,” Sam insisted in interview after interview.  “I went to rehab, I’m not ashamed of that, and I’m a better person for having gotten the help I needed.”

Inevitably, though, the interviews would then dwell on his own drug use, some hosts and journalists going so far as to insinuate that glorifying rehabilitation programs would glorify drug use.  Those were the people that made Sam see red but he learned how to handle that line of thought with as much grace as he could muster.  “That time in my life isn’t one that I look back on fondly.  There are no happy memories associated with my addiction, if that’s what you’re implying.”  Sam would subtly call out the interviewers for their intolerance.

Sam reached out to people in the entertainment business who he knew had struggled with addiction in the past, hoping to find allies for his cause.  “More stories should end like mine, like yours,” he would tell them and, ultimately, they all agreed with that sentiment.  None of them joined his crusade, though.  For some, contracts and royalties were contingent on them not talking about their past drug use.  For others, brands had been built around their innocence and one wrong word could send that crashing down.  Sam was forced to sign more non-disclosure agreements than he could count to even get meetings with some of these people.

Sam was alone in this and, at first, he was undeterred.  He had the support of his brothers, who were willing to speak to their part in Sam’s story, and that would have to be enough to get this campaign off the ground.  Except, it wasn’t.  Sam tried to push forward.  He knew it could be successful if he could get even one person to talk about it… Eventually, however, he was just tired and beaten down.  

Y/N had been gone for three years, now, and she was all but forgotten by the general population.  Sure, some would remember her when one of her songs came on the radio but that was rare these days.  Her death had been what spurred the conversation for the first few months but now, Sam was seen as “that former addict who quit music because he couldn’t handle the pressure and now he’s got a bone to pick with the industry,” or, that’s how the news outlets were starting to describe him, anyway.  

So he stopped.  He stopped talking, stopped advocating, and, ultimately, stopped feeling.

Now I think I know What you tried to say to me How you suffered for your sanity How you tried to set them free They did not listen they're not listening still Perhaps they never will

You watched Sam from above, watching as each person turned him away.  Sure, they were grateful for the programs that had helped them, they would tell him, but the conversation always ended the same way: “but I can’t tell anyone that.”  Though you didn’t expect anything different, it still broke your heart every time.  But Sam was resilient and tenacious.  Until he wasn’t.  

You watched as his work slowly fizzled out and Sam sank into depression.  You watched as he stopped sleeping and barely ate anything.  You watched as Dean and Adam tried to convince him to eat and then tried to bully him into it; the same with sleep.  But you could feel that Sam had no appetite and, despite his exhaustion, you could feel how sleep eluded him.  He was hospitalized; you could see how his body was shutting down and you were worried for him.

Then one day, you couldn’t feel his hunger or his weariness anymore.  Instead, there was a sense of peace and joy and those emotions comforted you.  Then there was a hand on your shoulder and you turned from your vantage point, from where you had watched Sam from heaven.

“You’re early,” you told him through tears.

ALL THE TAGS! (forevers): @deathtonormalcy56 @supernaturalyobsessed @roxy-davenport

Mooselings: @jared-padaloveme

Pond Sam/Angst Tags: @manawhaat @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @loveitsallineed (@purgatoan) @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @blushingsamgirl @notnaturalanahi @whispersandwhiskerburn @roxy-davenport @impala-dreamer @deathtonormalcy56 @samsgoddess @wildfirewinchester @for-the-love-of-dean @spn-fan-girl-173 @cici0507 @fiveleaf @deansleather @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @waywardjoy @mrswhozeewhatsis @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious @supernatural-jackles @idreamofhazel @wevegotworktodo @jpadjackles @babypieandwhiskey @deantbh @supermoonpanda @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @chaos-and-the-calm67 @memariana91 @chelsea-winchester @fandommaniacx @writingbeautifulmen @ageekchiclife @drarina1737 @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell @castieltrash1 @supernaturalyobsessed @ruined-by-destiel @winchester-writes @deals-with-demons @faith-in-dean @winchestersmolder 

[whispersandwhiskerburn]

When She’s Gone

Summary: Dean is lost when the Reader leaves him. She never stays, and he doesn't know how to make her do so. Pairing: Dean x Reader. Reader is absent though (see the title)--most of this is in Dean’s head with Sam coming in at the end for a conversation. Word Count: 2,782 Warnings: Angsssst! Insecure Dean is trying/failing to deal with abandonment issues—and he's borderline depressed because of it. Canon style. Author's Note: This was written for @thing-you-do-with-that-thing‘s  SPN Anti-Valentine's Challenge for the song “Ain't No Sunshine” by Bill Withers. This was done in Dean's POV which I have only tried a few times, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated. I started with inspiration from a blurb I had previously written and went from there. There's a lot of build up till the reader comes in, canonically correct flashbacks in Dean's memory. Be patient. The Dean x Reader part will show up. Tags: My forevers are below the read more, but the following fabulous friends voted for this fic in particular in my Pick the Fic post, so here you go! @feelmyroarrrr, @beckawinchester, @wi-deangirl77, @avasmommy224, @xtina2191, @ruprecht0420, @death2thevirgin, @autopistaaningunaparte, @dancingalone21, @rissbennett, @salvachester, @lipstickandwhiskey, @paintrider13-blog, @mamaredd123, @spn-and-daddy-issues, @deanwinchesterforpromqueen, @wevegotworktodo, @angelofwinchester17,  @wildfirewinchester, and @fandommaniacx.

Dean had experience with being left behind.

He had been four years old when Mom had burned. He had been old enough to understand, sitting on the trunk of the impala, watching his home burn and Dad cry while holding Sammy. He didn't know why or how, but he knew Mom had left and wouldn't be coming back.

Dad used to leave sometimes—even before...that night. But he always came back. And mom was always there.

But that night, Dad was crying, and Mom wasn't there—and Dean, even at four years old, knew she never would be again.

His Mom had left him.

Then his voice left him. He knew what was happening, saw his Dad trying to cope, but mostly drinking, stumbling from place to place. He tried to take care of Sammy, but Dean didn't want to talk. Not to Dad, not to anyone.

Then, when he got older and started talking again, started really paying attention to his Dad, the only parent he had left, Dad started leaving more often.

He'd be gone, sometimes for a day, sometimes for a week, and he'd come back  bruised, or bloody, or drunk. He'd write in his journal, drink, check on him and Sammy, then pass out before leaving again.

Dean figured out about hunting soon enough—Dad had started to become paranoid as he learned more and more of what was out there, so he started training Dean. Sammy was getting old enough to start training too, but Dean tried to keep him out of it. He didn't want Sammy to know how to make a silver bullet, how to shoot someone in the head, or why there was always salt spread at the doors of the hotel rooms.

He just wanted Sammy to be a kid.

Sometimes he fought with Dad over it—but never for long. Dad might never have stuck around much, but even he could see that this type of darkness was changing his family, and he didn't want to do that to Sammy either.

Then Sammy found out. He was old enough now that Dean was having to fight both Dad and Sam to try and keep Sam out of training. He considered it a win when he got Sam stuck on researching duty. The kid was good at it, and he wanted to help so bad...but most importantly, it kept him safe. It kept him out. When Dean had to leave with Dad to help with a hunt, he wanted to make sure that Sam would be there when he came back.

And no matter how scared Dean got when he left to hunt some monster or ghost when he was a teenager, he always knew he had to get back. He was never going to leave Sammy.

No one deserved to get left behind.

One time, Sam ran away. It was one of the worst times in Dean's life—not knowing what had happened, how he had lost him. Dean looked everywhere, frantic, terrified of what could have happened.

When Dad got home and heard what had happened, it was...it was like he dropped the role of Dad. He was nothing but a hunter in that moment—cold, purposeful, ruthless.

It had scared Dean. But not as much as having Sam leave him.

They found him again, but Dean had a hard time trusting him to stay after that. Dad had come back that time, but not Sam. There was a distance between them after that. Dean stopped worrying about keeping Sam out of the business, and started throwing himself into the business more.

Maybe that's why he hadn't seen the Stanford acceptance coming.

He hadn't even known Sam had applied—his own brother hadn't even told him that.

The argument that night, Sam screaming that he wanted to leave, that he wanted out of this life, Dad calling him a traitor, running out on his family, telling him that if he did, he should never come back.

Dean hadn't known what to do. He didn't want Sam to go, but he didn't think Dad was right either.

Why couldn't they just stay together? Why did they always have to fight? What was wrong with his family—with him, that no one ever wanted to stay with him?

Sam left.

Dean and John hunted together for the years he was gone, and every time they had a case in California, they'd stop by and check on him. He was fine—safe, out of the life, doing well in school.

They never let on that they were there. Sam never called or looked for them.

He never seemed to miss Dean at all.

Dean tried to take comfort in the fact that Sam was out and safe, but it was just another abandonment—and this one hurt more than any other had. He had raised Sammy, and to have him walk out and never look back....

But then Dad went silent on a hunt.

No calls. No check ins. No message, no sign, no nothing.

Dean had been a hunter long enough to know that this was something different than the usual silence, to know that something was really wrong. He couldn't face this alone—he didn't want to face this alone.

He went to Sam. Dad had been in California, but there was no sign of him around Stanford. If Dad was missing, Sam should help Dean find him. He was still a Winchester, even if he wasn't a hunter anymore.

Then Jess.

And Dean was left with a broken, tortured Sam. He tried to help, tried to guide, but how do you help someone who just watched the person they love burn to death on a ceiling? He hadn't been able to heal his father of that wound in the last 22 years, and now Sam was going through the same thing, and Dad wasn't there, and Dean didn't know what to do.

Except look for Dad.

So that's what they did.

The found him. And for just one brief moment—a scary, tragic, but shining moment, Dean had both his brother and his father back in his life.

And then his Dad abandoned him again.

This time, he left for him—did a deal with a demon to bring Dean back. But how was Dean supposed to deal with that? His father had gone to Hell, left him forever with the knowledge that the only reason he was walking around on the Earth was because his father was burning down below.

He tail-spun after that.

Sammy got him back.

The two of them worked together after that. Hunt after hunt, trying to save the world, trying to make it a better place, the way Dad would have wanted.

But then Sam died in Dean's arms, stabbed in the back.

And Dean...he couldn't. He just couldn't.

It was worse than Mom...worse than Stanford...worse than Dad.

Dad had made a deal to bring Dean back. Dean did the same for Sam.

When he died bloody beneath that Hell Hound—when he left Sam for good, or so he thought, Dean didn't regret making the deal.

As he suffered in Hell, he was thankful that Sam wasn't the one beneath the blade.

When he started torturing souls, he was glad that Sam wasn't there to see it.

And then he was back. Sam was different, and the world was crazy—the apocalypse was happening and angels were real, and one of them had dragged him out of Hell.

It took Dean a while after he was back, in the midst of the craziness, to realize that Sam really was different. Colder, darker...and finally it connected. It was like John had been when Sam had run away that time.

It scared Dean.

He lashed out, blaming Sam, blaming that bitch Ruby for poisoning him.

But it was too late.

Sam had left him for a demon, for his powers, and Lucifer rose.

That was a dark time. Dean didn't know whether or not he could trust Sam, could trust the angels, even Castiel who had saved him—so many people died. Jo and Ellen, their brother Adam...he almost gave up at one point.

He just couldn't take anyone else letting him down.

And what stopped him? The idea that he would be letting Sam down. That he would be abandoning him. Dean just couldn't do it.

So they fought. And they fought. And they saved the world—at a price.

Sam leapt into Hell with Lucifer inside him. Cass rebelled from Heaven for them and saved them all, brought Bobby back, and the world kept on spinning,  just the way it was supposed to.

But Dean was empty inside. He went to Lisa, because he had promised Sam he would. He did his best, smiling where he could, trying to raise Ben and make a life that was worth the sacrifice his brother had given.

But Sam had chosen to leave.

And it was like Dad all over again.

And there were moments, brief moments when the sun would peek out from behind the clouds, when he thought he could actually have a normal life. A home.

It didn't last though.

Sam came back—most of him. The life was right there waiting, with extended family members ready to betray him because he hadn't had enough of that in his life. Dean risked a conversation with Death to get Sam his soul back and it worked great—until Cass left them for Crowley.

He was such a child—he refused to listen to Dean. Dean could see the pattern all over again; it was Sam partnering with Ruby to stop Lilith—except this time it was Castiel partnering with Crowley to stop Raphael. He wouldn't listen and the same thing happened all over again—the fallout result was worse than what they were trying to destroy.

Lisa and Ben had to have their memories wiped.

Sam's mind broke, and he remembered his time in Lucifer's cage.

Castiel was dead and Leviathans walked the earth.

The ultimate monsters, and it was his best friend who was responsible. And Dean was left to clean up the mess because Castiel had done it all.

They lost Bobby.

Everyone dies or leaves and nothing Dean could do could stop it.

Kevin. Benny. Charlie. Garth. Rufus.

Sam abandoned him in Purgatory—never even looked for him.

God showed up and then left again.

Mom came back...and only stayed for about a week.

That one had nearly killed Dean. She had been the one person Dean had needed most. He had lost so many—some by their choice and others before their time, but his mom? He had built his whole life on the fact that his mother had been stolen from him, but in the end...she chose to leave too.

Even if he understood why, Dean couldn't help feeling like there just wasn't anything inside him that made the people he loved want to stay.

And then he met you.

It had been a hunt—a surprisingly small one compared to the end-of-the-world things that had been happening regularly over the last few years. Just a vengeful spirit in an old house that needed to be salted and burned and put to rest.

But it had rocked Dean to the core.

You had been there, at the grave site before Dean could get there. Sam was at the house, ready to move in in case there was any sign of danger for the family that lived there, and Dean had been surprised as hell to find you up to your calves in the grave he was supposed to be digging up.

It surprised him even more when you looked up at him, studied him and his shovel for a moment and simply asked, “hunter?”

“Winchester.”

You had nodded, then slid over for him to jump in and dig beside you.

“I'm Y/N. We'll do the rest of the pleasantries after Casper here is crispy, deal?”

Dean had jumped in and dug his shovel in. “Fair enough.”

Afterwards, you had gone out to eat with them. After the brothers were convinced you were who you said you were, they had invited you back to the bunker to crash. It was an hour away, but better than a skeezy motel room.

You had agreed.

Dean had been fascinated with you. He hadn't smiled much since Mom had left, but he laughed with you. It was like...well, sunshine.

But you didn't stay either.

You didn't have any real ties to them. Every month or so you would call, or Dean would, about a case and you'd team up and work together. After a few times, you ended up in Dean's bed and, while the sex was fantastic, Dean found himself wanting more.

But you never gave a sign that you did. In fact, you had left again the morning after before Dean was even out of bed.

You didn't shut off communication—you and Dean had even hooked up a few more times. You still laughed together, sang along to the same songs, and fought over who was the best shot on the firing range.

But when you were gone.

Dean moped. He drank. And he missed you.

Of course, he was used to being left behind.

He was sitting at the small table in the kitchen, drinking a beer and lost in thoughts of you when Sam pulled out the chair across from him and plopped into it.

Dean looked up with a glare. Sam had been annoyingly cheerful all day, and Dean had thought that he had made it clear that he didn't want company right now.

“Unless this is about a case, Lucifer, Castiel, or Mom, beat it.”

“None of the above.” Sam's voice was matter-of-fact and almost smug. Dean took another swig of his beer, wondering if he should just switch to something stronger.

“I've been wondering what has been making you act so weird, and I think I've figured it out.”

“Really. Enlighten me, please, Dr. Phil.” Dean's voice should have been enough warning for Sam to back off, but his little brother pressed on anyway. Pain in the ass.

“I thought it was about Mom, but it's not. You're upset about Y/N walking out.”

Dean schooled his face, pulling on his many hours of hustling poker to keep from ruining his bluff.

“And what makes you think that, Obi Wan?”

Sam raised an eyebrow then smiled a bit, “search your feelings, De--”

“Dude!” Dean protested, but Sam pointed a finger at him, saying, “you started the Star Wars reference, man.”

Dean grumbled a bit and took another drink, sad to find that he was almost empty.

“Seriously man, every time she leaves, you go into this weird depressed funk for days. You don't eat right, you drink even more than usual, and you're grumpy for no reason.”

Dean didn't meet his brother's eyes, trying desperately to avoid the truth.

“C'mon. Spill.”

Damn chick flick was what this was turning into.

“Fine, I miss her, okay? I've got feelings for her, but I don't think she does...and let's face it, I don't have the track record to press my luck.”

Sam nodded at that, a frown appearing on his face.

“There ain't no sunshine when she's gone, Sam, and she's always gone too long anytime she goes away.”

“She's a hunter, Dean. She leaves. But she comes back. She keeps coming back. I think that should tell you something.”

“I know, I know, I know....” Dean couldn't help how he felt, even if it wasn't logical. He knew she cared for him, but apparently it wasn't enough to make her stay.

“I just get tired of people leaving.” Dean sighed, “I mean, either they die or they walk out. Don't you ever wonder why everyone leaves, Sam? And with Y/N, it's worse than ever. Every time I wake up, she's left again, and I wonder this time where she's gone, wonder if she's gone to stay.”

“Dean, have you ever asked her to stay? Have you ever given her any reason to think that she's more than a friend with benefits thing?”

Dean glared at his brother again. He was officially done with this conversation.

Dean stood up, threw his bottle in the trash can and walked out of the kitchen, heading for his room, even though he knew that would only make it worse. Her scent was there, her memory was strongest in his room, his bed.

As he walked down the hallway, he couldn't help but to sing slightly under his breath, “this house just ain't no home anytime that she goes away.”

But Dean had experience with getting left behind.

Thanks for reading!

Did you like this? Check out my MASTERLIST! Feedback is life!

To my Forevers, the ones who keep me writing:

@2wonderinsighlents, @adaliamalfoy, @alcpegasus22, @andrastesflamingtitties, @angelofwinchester17, @alexastacio, @anokhi07, @ariethegreat98, @arryn-nyx, @autopistaaningunaparte, @avasmommy224, @bennyyh, @blackcatstiel, @bringmesomepie56, @bucky-thorin-winchester, @but-deans-back-tho, @casownsmyass, @cfordwrites, @chaos-and-the-calm67, @dancingalone21, @d-s-winchester, @deandoesthingstome, @deanscherrypie, @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog, @deanwinchesterforpromqueen, @deliciouslyshadowymilkshake, @demonangelimpala, @demondeansdomme, @faith-in-dean, @fandommaniacx, @feelmyroarrrr, @fiveleaf, @i-is-for-inspiring, @ilostmyshoe-79, @impala-dreamer, @jalove-wecallhimdean, @jencharlan, @jensen-gal, @jotink78, @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms, @katnharper, @kittenofdoomage, @kristaparadowski, @lipstickandwhiskey, @littlegreenplasticsoldier, @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid, @lunarsaturn88, @marilynnlew, @millaraysuyai, @moonstonemystyk, @mrsbatesmotel53, @mrsjohnsmith, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @notnatural-supernatural, @paintrider13-blog, @pinknerdpanda, @plaidstiel-wormstache, @rizlowwritessortof, @roxy-davenport, @rushernparadise, @salvachester, @scorpiongirl1, @skathan-omaha, @spnrvt, @supernatural-jackles, @supernaturalyobsessed, @theafinnerup, @thegreatficmaster, @torn-and-frayed, @vote-for-pedro, @waywardjoy, @wevegotworktodo, @wi-deangirl77, @withoutaplease, @writingbeautifulmen, @xtina2191, @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou,

If you want to be removed from or added to my forever tag list, send me a message/ask! Only 18+ please!!

[overly-obsessed-fangirl1]

Immortal Heart- A New Eternity

Characters: Sister!Reader, Maebh [mā-v] (OFC), Charlie, Sam, Dean, Cas, Rowena, Elton Styne, Jess (mentioned), Jo (mentioned), Ruby (mentioned), Meg (mentioned), John (mentioned), witch (mentioned), Juliet the hellhound (mentioned)

Pairings: Reader x Maebh, Reader x Charlie

Word Count: 2024

Warnings: angst, depression, homophobic attitudes, implied smut, character death, murder

Summary: Reader is from the Industrial Revolution. 190 years after being cursed to live forever and to lose everyone she loves, the reader finds herself as part of the Winchester family.

Beta: @rainygalaxynerd​

A/N: The Irish brogue is written a bit on the phonetic side to get across how she speaks. This is my entry for @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​’s anti-Valentine’s challenge. My song was The Hands That Built America by U2. Lyrics at the bottom.

A/N 2: Thanks to @artsy-aspie for the illustration

1815

“Will you miss it?” Maebh asked, joining you at the rail and gazing back at the island where you were raised.

“I won’t miss the quarries,” you said, making a face, “but I will miss rolling down the hills. And all the green.”

“I hear New York is made of silver,” Maebh whispered, wrapping her arm around your waist. “Surely in a city of silver there will be enough food for everyone. No more hungry nights, no more worrying about our next meal.”

“And plenty of indoor jobs! No more worrying that someone might slip and crush us,” you add, remembering the poor girl last week who was killed by a falling rock that someone hadn’t braced properly.

“No more breathing rock dust.”

“No more days from before dawn to after dusk.”

“No more waiting until night,” Maebh said in a low voice. Her breath tickled your neck.

Your breath hitched.

“Someone will see,” you moaned, thinking of all the other emigrants on the boat.

Maebh gave your neck one last nip before pulling back.

“I hate it when you’re right,” she whined.

You just smiled, thinking of all the time you’d have together once you reached America.

2015

“Y/N!”

Dean’s voice tore through the bunker. You shot up, yanked from your dream. Annoyed, you climbed out of bed.

“So help meh, Dean, if you’ve dragged meh out o’ bed jus’ because Sam ate da last slice o’ pie, I will personally summon Juliet to tear inta ya.”

At the sound of your thick Irish brogue, Dean froze. You only ever slipped back into it when you were really upset. Slowly, he turned around, taking in your old homespun wool dress. His demeanor instantly changed.

“Maebh again?” he asked softly.

You nodded, unshed tears pressing against your eyes.

He opened his arms and you gratefully let him envelop you.

“Wanna talk, kiddo?”

“Ya already know wha happen’, Dean,” you mumbled into his shirt. “February 14, 1820. Someone spied us kissing’ through da window, an’ gathered a mob. While tryin’ to escape, I knocked over a lantern, trappin’ ‘er inside an’ burnin’ da place down. Her ma wuz a witch, an’ cursed meh to live fer eva, an’ to lose everyone I’ll ever love, to feel ‘er pain.”

Dean gave you one last squeeze before pulling back and wiping your tears.

“I was going to ask you to do a supply run, because yes, someone ate the last slice of pie, but you take the day off. I’ll ask Sam to do it.”

Smiling sadly, you went back to your room, turning on the radio as you lay back down.

Oh my love

It's a long way we've come

From the freckled hills

To the steel and glass canyons

From the stony fields

To hanging steel from skies

From digging in our pockets

For a reason not to say goodbye

These are the hands that built America

Ah, ah, ah, America

The tears that had threatened earlier now spilled over as you thought about Maebh, her fiery red hair and sparkling eyes the same color as the Emerald Isle. You remembered all the lonely years you spent wandering before John found and adopted you. You smiled as you remembered the elation of having a family, but it was quickly replaced with more tears as you remember how short that elation lasted, and all those you had fallen for and lost. You thought of Jess, Jo, Ruby, Meg. You thought how all of your lost loves had helped shape you into who you were.

You were just drifting back off when someone knocked on your door. Wiping your eyes, you switched off the music and opened the door.

“Hey, Dean told me what happened. I have something that I think’ll cheer you up.”

Wondering what could possibly make you feel better, you grabbed your coat and followed Sam to the car he had “found.”

What you found just confused you. Rowena was chained to a table making snide comments while Cas was trying not to pull his hair out.

“I don’t understand. How is this supposed to help?” you asked, turning to Sam.

Before he could answer, “Y/N/N!” tore through the warehouse. You whipped around to see Charlie racing toward you. You ran to meet her and your lips crashed into hers, all the sorrows of that morning melting away.

Cas looked away, embarrassed.

“This is where you’ve been sneaking off to?” you asked when you and Charlie finally broke apart. Sam nodded. “And you didn’t think to tell me my girlfriend was in town?” It was Sam’s turn to look uncomfortable. It was Cas who answered.

“You have trouble hiding things from Dean.”

Bewildered, you looked at Sam. “What is so important that you have to hide it from our own brother?”

“Yes, Samuel, explain why we aren’t telling Dean what we’re doing,” Rowena chimed in.

Sam glared at her. “Rowena’s translating the Book of the Damned to remove the Mark.”

You just blinked. “Okay.” Turning to Charlie, you asked “Why are you here?” “I’m trying to help decode the codex, but someone won’t shut up long enough for me to think.” She directed the last part at the witch, who tossed her head with a hmph.

“I’m going on a run. Y/N, you can stay and referee with Cas,” Sam interrupted.

Two hours later, you understood why Charlie was so on edge. Five hours later, you wanted to claw both Rowena’s and your own eyes out.

Charlie was glad to see you, but distracted. She was focusing all of her attention on decrypting the book. You didn’t blame her (you also wanted to save Dean), but after your morning you wished for a little more affection.

After the witch’s third remark in as many minutes, Charlie stood up so fast her chair fell over.

“I can't take this anymore!” she exclaimed, storming out of the room.

“I’ll get her,” you said as Cas started to go after her.

He nodded and you followed your girl.

“I’m sorry, I just need a break from that bitch,” Charlie said when you entered. “Let’s go somewhere. You do realize what day it is, don’t you?”

Rolling your eyes, you gave in. “I passed a motel on the way here.”

Charlie’s face lit up. Grinning, she eyed the window above you.

20 minutes later found both of you tangled in sheets.

“Do you still hate Valentine’s Day?” Charlie panted.

“You may have converted me,” you replied, kissing her again.

Suddenly she sat up.

“St. Valentine!”

“What?”

“I think I know how to crack the code,” she said hurriedly, jumping out of bed and pulling her clothes back on as she grabbed her tablet. “Saints…symbolism…yes!”

“You did it?” you asked, following suit.

“I did it!” Squealing, she grabbed you and you both did a little happy dance.

The two of you didn't have long to celebrate, however, as someone interrupted by pounding on the door. You froze, exchanging looks. Putting a finger to your lips, you pulled out one of your knives and passed it to her, then crept over to the peephole.

It was Elton.

“Run!” you hissed.

Charlie gave you one last desperate kiss, grabbed her tablet and locked herself in the bathroom. You pulled out your phone and hit speed dial as Elton continued to try to break down the door.

“Y/N! Where are you?” Sam’s frantic voice answered.

“Charlie an’ I snuck out. Sam, dey found us!” Even though you knew you couldn’t die, you were terrified.

“Get out! Both of you!”

“We can’t!” you cried as the door flew open.

Elton stepped over the threshold and you dropped the phone.

“Give me the Book and no one has to get hurt,” he threatened.

You raised your other knife in response. You got one swipe in before he snapped your neck, leaving you for dead. Dimly you felt the curse knitting the bones back together, but not fast enough. You watched helplessly as he broke into the bathroom and killed Charlie, who had smashed her tablet, destroying her notes. Failing to get what he came for, Elton stabbed her over and over, then dumped her body in the tub before leaving. Minutes later, Sam and Dean found you hugging your knees in the bathroom, sobbing.

“She sent me the decryption.”

You didn’t respond, watching the pyre eat your girlfriend’s lifeless form.

“Y/N, she saved Dean. She saved our brother.”

“Yer brotha.”

You said it so softly you didn't expect him to hear, but he recoiled as though you had shouted at him.

“He’s yer brotha, Sam. I’m not yer lil’ sista, no matter how young I look or what John did. I’m 210 years old, 183 years older than ya. I bounce around from family ta family, losin’ evra one I love. So excuse meh if I’m not excited about dis, because I have ta go troo dis pain oova and oova again fer eternity, while ya get one cosmic second o’ good news.”

Numbly, you stalked off, not even knowing where you were going to go. The next thing you were aware of, you were standing outside the warehouse. Fury rose up inside you. If Rowena hadn’t been commenting every few minutes, Charlie wouldn’t have needed to get away. You wouldn't have snuck out. She would still be alive. You stormed inside, pulling out your gun as you went.

“Give meh one good reason why I shouldn't blow yer brains out righ’ now,” you snarled, advancing on Rowena. She looked up from the Book.

“Why, dear, then I wouldn’t be able to remove the Mark from your brother,” she sing-songed.

“Dean is not ma brotha.”

“My, how things have changed. Just yesterday you were-”

“Yestaday, Charlie was alive. Ya drove her mad, made her need ta escape ya. So if ya have no other defense…” You cocked the gun.

“I can reunite you.”

“Spells can't bring back da dead.” Still, you paused, listening.

“I found a spell in here that can reverse the enchantment on you. You’d embody your real age, which, as you know…”

“Would kill meh,” you finished. “Are ya sure it would work?”

“If it doesn’t, I have a lovely anti-aging charm that will reverse the process,” Rowena promised.

After a moment’s hesitation, you lowered the gun.

“Do it.”

As Rowena chanted, you began to feel all the years, all the fatal wounds you had ever received descending on you at once. The pain was excruciating, but you watched with a sort of detached interest as you rapidly aged.

Cas, tell Sam I’m sorry, was the last thing you thought before your body crumbled to dust, finally releasing your spirit to be reunited with your girls.

As you rose upwards, away from Rowena observing the aftermath of the spell, your surroundings changed. You found yourself back home, and felt the pain of all the years falling away. Just when you thought you couldn’t feel any lighter, you saw her.

Standing there among the rolling hills, green eyes glittering and bright red hair flowing, was Maebh. “I’ve been waiting for you, Asthore,” she said, opening her arms.

Eyes watering, you threw yourself into them. “I’m so, so sorry, Agra,” you cried. “I didn’t mean for it to happen. I never wanted you to get hurt. I-”

“Shh, I know. It wasn’t your fault. It was a combination of bad luck and a bad environment. Listen,” she said, pulling your chin up to look in your eyes, “I have never blamed you for what happened. Mama shouldn’t have, either.”

“I’ve been alone so long.”

“Oh? Not from what I’ve heard.”

“Maebh-”

“I’m not upset, I wanted you to be happy. But really, Y/N, demons?”

You tilted your head. “Where’d you here that?”

“From us,” a voice called out.

Spinning around, you saw Jo and Charlie walking towards you. Laughing, you ran to them, knocking them over and landing in a crying, giggling heap, hugging each other. Maebh watched, smiling, thinking about all the possibilities you had now, with this new eternity.

Oh my love

It's a long way we've come

From the freckled hills

To the steel and glass canyons

From the stony fields

To hanging steel from skies

From digging in our pockets

For a reason not to say goodbye

These are the hands that built America

Ah, ah, ah, America

Last saw your face

In a water colored sky

As seabirds argue a long goodbye

I took your kiss

On the spray of a new lined star

You gotta live in your dreams

Don't make them so hard

And these are the hands that built America

Ah, ah, ah, America

Of all of the promises

Is this one we can keep

Of all of the dreams

Is this one still out of reach?

It's early fall

There's a cloud in the New York skyline

Innocence dragged across a yellow line

These are the hands that built America

These are the hands that built America

Ah, ah, ah, America

Ah, ah, ah, America

[traceyaudette]

Say It Ain’t So

This is for @thing-you-do-with-that-thing SPN Anti-Valentine’s Challenge.  

My song: Water Under the Bridge by Adele

Warnings: Angst, because that’s the way I roll, and the basis of the challenge.

Word count (not including song lyrics):1456

If you're not the one for me Then how come I can bring you to your knees? If you're not the one for me Why do I hate the idea of being free? And if I'm not the one for you You've gotta stop holding me the way you do Oh, honey, if I'm not the one for you Why have we been through what we have been through? It's so cold out here in your wilderness I want you to be my keeper But not if you are so reckless If you're gonna let me down, let me down gently Don't pretend that you don't want me Our love ain't water under the bridge If you're gonna let me down, let me down gently Don't pretend that you don't want me Our love ain't water under the bridge Say that our love ain't water under the bridge What are you waiting for? You never seem to make it through the door And who are you hiding from? It ain't no life to live like you're on the run Have I ever asked for much? The only thing that I want is your love

Say it ain't so, say it ain't so Say it ain't so, say it ain't so Say it ain't so, say it ain't so Say it ain't so, say it ain't so Say that our love ain't water under the bridge Say it ain't so, say it ain't so Say it ain't so, say it ain't so Say it ain't so, say it ain't so Say it ain't so, say it ain't so Say that our love ain't water under the bridge Say that our love ain't water under the bridge

“You may now kiss your bride.”  I smiled as my sister kissed her new husband.  She turned back to me, I handed back her bouquet before hugging her.  Nathan took her arm, I straightened out the train of her dress,  and they rushed up the aisle as man and wife. Stopping at the end, kissing again, before stepping into the foyer of the church.

The best man Jeff, winked at me before stepping forward offering me his arm, I slipped my arm through his, as we followed the bride and groom. The man had been flirting with me forever, I thought Dean was going to beat the hell out of him the first time he witnessed it. I guess Jeff, the manwhore, was taking advantage of my boyfriend's absence from the wedding festivities, to flirt with me some more. I wished Dean would have been able to make the trip, but at the last minute he had to cancel. I understood, I was still a little disappointed, but it came with the territory.

I’d been back in my hometown for the last two weeks, helping my sister get ready for her wedding. It had been a rough couple of months, for Dean and my relationship, the whole Mark of Cain ordeal, had put some stress on it, he tried to send me away earlier but I refused to leave him. I was in it for the long haul, we had literally been through hell and back or at least he had. I never faltered in my love and devotion to him, no matter what happened.

I missed him so much, we’d talked on the phone almost every night.  My plan was to leave as soon as I could tonight, I wanted to get home to him. I wanted to remind him, that I loved him, and I didn’t hold him responsible for what had happened a few weeks ago. It wasn’t him, that made him do those things, it was the mark.

Pulling my phone out of my purse,  as I got settled in the party bus, I checked for missed calls. Smiling when I saw that Dean had called me, and left a voicemail. I knew I wouldn’t be able to hear it on the bus, because of the partying going on, I’d have wait.

I tried to check it between pictures, but my mom gave me a disapproving look.  I put my phone away, knowing I’d have to wait longer before I could check my messages. After two hours worth of pictures, and several drinks, we were loaded back on the bus, and heading towards the reception.

It was another hour before I could sneak away, to check my messages. “I’m sorry (Y/N), it’s not going to work out for us.” There was a long pause, I heard him exhaling. “I’m not right for you.” The call ended abruptly, I slid down the wall, between the drinks, the emotions of the day, and now this, I broke.

Gaining control of myself, I pushed myself up off the floor, I wasn’t going to accept this. Going out into the reception hall, I needed to talk to my sister, and mother. I needed to leave for Kansas tonight.

I told everyone that there was an emergency with Dean, and that he needed me. It wasn’t a total lie, so I didn’t feel guilty. I didn’t stay for dinner, cake, or the bouquet toss, I went to my parents house, changed clothes, and left for the airport,

XXX

My dad is a pilot for the airline I was flying on, he got me on a redeye from Miami to Kansas City International Airport, then a small commuter flight into Lebanon. I finally arrived in front of the bunker at seven in the morning.

I had to sit a minute, laying my head on the steering wheel, I should have slept easily, but sleep evaded me. I drained emotionally, physically, and mentally, I had a feeling I had a fight on my hands. I hoped that I could convince him he was wrong, that it was fear and regret talking.

Pushing the car door open, I got out of the car, walking towards the bunker door. I took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage I had, before opening it, and walking through it.

XXX

Dean was slumped over the library table, his phone close to him, and an empty whiskey bottle on the other side. He smiled like he’d been bathing in whiskey for the past two weeks, maybe he drunk called me. I could only hope, that waking him up, would be result in a happy ending for me, for us.  Walking over to the table, I shook his shoulder, he grunted in his sleep, raising his head up, he looked at me frowning.

“Why are you here? I told you we’re done, I’m not right for you!” He staggered to his feet, he towered over me.

“I’ll fix a pot of coffee, why don’t you go take a shower?” My shoulders slumped, I wasn’t going to give up without a fight. I was a stubborn as hell, and I was hell bent on not letting him go.

“It won’t change how I feel.” He stumbled out of the library, I was resisting the urge to pick up the empty bottle and hurl it at his head. Going to the kitchen, I started a pot of coffee, I had to do everything within my power to show him he was right for me, and how much I love him.

Twenty minutes later, he came into the kitchen, still frowning at me. He poured himself a cup of coffee, and leaned against the counter.  The silence in the kitchen was thick with tension, I walked over, touching his arm.

“Dean, what happened? Why?”

“I’ve been feeling this way for a while..”

I pulled my hand away from him. “After everything we’ve been through together, you suddenly decide you’re not right for me?”

He pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly. “It’s because of the hell I’ve put you through… I tried to kill you, when I was a demon, because of the Mark of Cain.”

I look up to see the tears in his eyes. “It’s because I love you, that I stand by you, through it all. And you stopped, something stopped you. The way you’re holding me right now, tells me, you’re lying.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just trying to comfort you.  I don’t lo..”

“Just stop! Don’t say it, I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear that you don’t love me anymore or never did. That you don’t want me..” He pulled me in closer, as I sobbed against his chest, I felt his lips on top of my head.

“I’m sorry.”  He whispered against the top of my head. “We gave it a good shot, we’re just not meant to be.” I backed away from him, shaking my head.

“I’m going to pack a bag, please just send the rest of my things to Miami. I rushed out of the kitchen leaving Dean alone. I just threw enough things in a bag for a road trip, heading out of our once shared bedroom, I glanced around one more time.  Trying to memorize everything, I knew it would be the last time I’d be here. Shutting the door behind me, I started up the stairs, leading out of the bunker.

Dean was waiting at the bottom  of the stairs, his arm shot out, his hand coming down on my wrist. His hand moving up to cup my face, he gently caressed it, I leaned into his touch.  “Let me know, when you’re done running and hiding.” I stared into his green eyes, fighting back my own tears.

I started up the stairs, I was almost to the door of the bunker, wishing he’d call my name, and take it all back.  Pausing at the door, for just a split second, waiting to see if he’d really let me go, I thought about how all I ever wanted was his love, and nothing more.

He called out my name, my heart jumped in my chest. I whirled around to look at him. He was still at the bottom of the stairs. “Let me know when you get there,”

Pushing the bunker door open, I carried my bag out to my car, throwing my bag in the backseat, got in the driver’s seat. Starting my car, I drove away, thinking that maybe the mark had affected him more than I thought.

I could only hope, that maybe someday, somewhere, he’d realize our love wasn’t over, and he’d come find me.

#SPN Anti-Valentine’s Challenge

@notyourtypicalpunkgirl​ @small-town-wayward-daughter @impalaimagining @clairese1980 @charliebradbury1104 @kitchenwitchsuperwhovian

[thing-you-do-with-that-thing]

SPN Anti-Valentine’s Challenge.

I am gonna create the Masterpost in a few. 

To @sleep-silent-angel @little-red-83 @wayward-marvel-sommer1196 @megansescape @chucksangel @megafrontliner311 @paigeinastory  - As long as you guys post tonight (feb 14th before midnight in your own timezone) I will add you to the Masterpost as soon as I see it. 

@mysupernaturalfics @percywinchester27 and @chelsea072498 - I would appreciate if you post before the end of the month but not rushing :) IM with your fic when you are done so I am sure I won’t miss it :)

[waywardimpalawriter]

Her

Her

Summary: For a moment, just a moment you thought the prefect life might be in your grasp.

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Dean x Lisa

Warnings: angst

Word count: 1,156 (with lyrics)

Setting: The year Dean spends with Lisa so between season 5 and 6

Notes: #SPN Anti-Valentine’s Challenge by @thing-you-do-with-that-thing I chose Miranda Lambert’s song More like her.

Tag list:

Forever:

@winters-buck

@angryschnauzer

@marvel-lucy

@feelmyroarrrr

@aquabrie

@fandommaniacx

@thetalesofmooseandsquirrel

@supernaturallymarvellous

Supernatural:

@smoothdogsgirl 

@spnfanficpond

@aprofoundbondwithdean

  She's beautiful in her simple little way She don't have too much to say when she gets mad She understands, she don't let go of anything Even when the pain gets really bad I guess I should've been more like that

Reader POV

I should’ve held onto my pride, should’ve walked away just like he is with my head held high. But I guess stupidity runs in my veins. Stupidly thinking he’d want to settle down with me, have that white picket fence, Apple pie life we only dreamed about. He hadn’t promised forever, never knowing my true feelings, never figuring out how I felt about him, nor returning them. Ones I pushed aside to keep from getting hurt, and in the end they’re what done me in. Not watching Sam fall, Lucifer contained inside his body, into the cage, sealed away for the good of mankind. It’s not seeing Castiel’s vessel explode or Bobby’s neck snapped, both returned to normal thank God that has me wanting to curl into the fetal position and cry.

No it’s the look on Dean’s face when we pulled up to the curb, relief mixed with pain and sadness. He’s not looking at me of course but at her house. A place he’ll be calling home from now on, with a woman that should’ve been me. If I’d gotten the courage to speak my heart.   

“You wanna come up?” deep voice a touch rough with unshed emotions, his eyes never leaving the front door.

You had it all for a pretty little while And somehow you made me smile when I was sad You took a chance on a bruised and beaten heart And then you realized you wanted what you had I guess I should've been more like that

For a moment shock took hold of me, questions of why he’s asking, of is he serious doesn’t he know? In the end shaking my head, just to stare out the front windshield, “Go on Dean, Lisa’s waiting for you right?”

“Where will you go?” from the corner of my eye, catching those strong hands resting on the steering wheel, but I don’t look over, not fully. If I did there’s no telling what’ll happen and I couldn’t risk that.

Instead I shrug, “Doesn’t matter, anywhere,” the cadence in my voice not sounding like my own, but that of a stranger as I lie to Dean for the first time since knowing him.

“I can give you a ride to the nearest bus stop.”

Shaking my head, hand going to the handle of Baby’s door, “Don’t bother Dean, I’ve always taken care of myself, not gonna stop now.”

Feeling warmth rest on my shoulder, cursing my weak will to stay aloof and show no emotion when it comes to this man. “You’ve got Bobby and Cas,” softly though I think I miss heard him adding, “me.”

Opening the door, one foot already on the curb, while shrugging his warm callused palm off my shoulder, “Better alone than put through the ringer.”

“Don’t be stubborn Y/N at least head back to Bobby’s,” there’s anger in his tone and I know it’s directed at me, but I could careless right now.

Stepping out, giving the Impala a fond rub down the side of her sleek black side, so many memories both good and bad ones held within the metal, leather and rubber. “I’m not, I’m being realistic Dean. You’re getting out, an apple pie life, go live. Don’t worry or think about me, I’ll be fine.”

Pushing away, opening the back door of Baby to pull my duffle bag out, chancing a foolish glance at Dean, who’s watching every move I make. Why I’ll never know, never ask, before closing the door, turning on my heel and starting down the suburban street away from the one man I’ve loved longer than I can remember. She’ll have him now and he’ll forget all about me, about the life we shared even if it’d been as friends.

I should have held on to my pride I should have never let you lie I guess you got what you deserved I guess I should've been more like her

I don’t hear the footsteps that follow, till an arm pulls me back, making me turn and gripping my shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

Puzzled, knowing Dean Winchester never apologizes for anything in his life, “For what?” I’m trying to act as if his touch, the very present of him being so close doesn’t have an effect on me.

“Leave.”

“It’s your choice Dean I’m not going to tell you what or how to live it,” motioning with my head back towards the house needing him to let me go. “Go, I have a bus to catch and evil to put in their graves.”

 “Come by anytime,” he offers pulling my unwilling body in for a tight hug that I don’t return.

Gathering my voice, “Yeah, sure next time I pass through,” pulling away I don’t look back, don’t wave or add anything more, just walk away it’d better this way after all. I’d never see him again despise what I’d said I’d make sure never to pass through this town or anywhere near it again.

Forgiving you, well, she's stronger than I am You don't look much like a man from where I'm at It's plain to see desperation showed it's truth You love her, and she loves you with all she has I guess I should've been more like that

I should have held on to my pride I should have never let you lie I guess you got what you deserved I guess I should've been more like her

She's beautiful in her simple little way

Dean’s POV

Wanting to stop you, to gather you in my arms and never let go, yet that’s what I’m doing. The coward in me is letting the best thing in my life beside Sam, his name making me wince remembering he’s gone, Cas, and Bobby, I’m letting you walk away with no other words. I’d promised Sam to live a different life, but for the first time I wonder if it’s going to be with the wrong person.

I never told you what I felt all those nights we’d fall asleep together, how fighting alongside you every day kept me sane. How you’d become a deeper part of me, even more so than her.

While my heart screamed at me to follow you, explain and just run away together, my brain reasoned she would be a better choice, safer. Though would be mean happier? Would she be able to understand the nightmares, the need to check every lock twice, devil’s trap by each door, salt everywhere? I didn’t know, but as I watched you walk away, I knew one thing you’re taking my heart with you and I knew I’d never see you again regardless of what you promised.

[spnsimpleman]

In between the lines

For @thing-you-do-with-that-thing‘s Anti-Valentine’s Challenge! 

My prompt was Between the lines by Sara Bareilles  

Dean x Reader     ANGST 

Word Count: 2718

The middle table in the bunker’s library was covered with books, files, and loose pages. You were sitting there in silence with an open book and your notepad in front of you just like you had done a hundred times before. Dean sat across from you, his head bent over the book he was reading while his leg just happened to brush yours under the table again.

How many times had you been in this same position? With the touches and looks that said all the things neither of you would ever speak aloud even when Sam wasn’t around. For some reason, that bothered you a lot more today. Every touch saying words you never really wanted to hear but today, god, today you needed it like oxygen. It did hurt that much and it was driving you mad.

You couldn’t even pinpoint the feeling, the urge to declare something that had been lingering under the covers for so many months without a problem. You had read the same page five times now and didn’t understand a damn word of it because your mind was already preoccupied with whatever was driving you to look at him, to say something you were fighting. You were either trying to gain the nerve or just completely lose it. You looked down at your glass and the amber liquid inside it. Scotch never affected you like this. Was it just the scotch?

You examined the man across from you, from the furrowed brow down to his pursed lips and strong jaw. “Dean.” He looked up and when his gaze connected with yours, it spilled out. “They’ve taken so much, I want more than this.”  HOLY FUCKING SHIT WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY? Your heart pounded as voices in your head screamed. That pain in your chest intensified to an unbearable point and then the bubble burst.

He didn’t even have to say a word, you read it all on his face. The confusion that twisted into surprise then pain or maybe just exhaustion. His gaze dropped to the table, “Y/n… I can’t. Not with this thing with Amara… even without… you know we can’t.” He finally looked back up but he was guarded. The mask he showed the world firmly in place.

You brushed it off easily, you’d played this before and you were an expert at it now, “right.” You chuckled, “I’m just… tired. With the scotch and the lack of sleep and my eyes are so bleary I can’t read a goddamn word on these pages…” you trailed off, the excuses sounding just as lame to your ears. You fiddled with your phone and looked down. The date glared at you from the otherwise black screen. The lead ball in your throat dropped into your stomach and kept growing.

He laughed but it was forced, “you’re not really one for such… feminine outbursts.”

He winced and you cringed. God, dean, even though you don’t mean it, you can be such a fucking sexist at times. Instead, you whispered, “it’s their anniversary.”

He dropped the papers he had picked up after your outburst and covered his face. “Shit, sorry I didn’t even realize.”

You pushed the chair back using the noise to cover the clearing of your throat then stood, “nothing to apologize for. I didn’t even realize until just now.” You picked up your phone and downed the last of your scotch. “I’m gonna…” you turned and started to go ignoring the stutter of his chair legs across the floor but then his hand was on your arm. You paused, turning slowly to face him. The warmth of his hand burned but it was more like a corrosive acid instead of the old delicious fire.

His grip was light and his fingers caressed your skin in a way you knew well. His eyes spoke volumes, his gaze sinking into yours but where it used to ignite something deeper now a cold blanket took its place. “Hey, I’m always here for you. You know that, right?”

Suddenly, you felt exhausted. How long had you been playing this game? Saying what you both thought the other needed to hear, just enough to keep it cool but the touches, the looks that spoke of something so different, something you couldn’t admit aloud. His hand smoothed down until his thumb brushed the inside of your elbow, a place he once said lit you up like a Christmas tree. How well you knew each other’s bodies, how many times you found comfort in each other’s arms drowning out the pain with the sounds you could coax out of each other? It was a competition, a game that you were both extremely good at. But it was never serious, you both made that much clear.

You both slept with others while out on hunts, some you regretted not sleeping with because when you backed out at the last minute you came back to Sam still researching in the motel room and Dean never slipped through the door until the next morning. How long did you really think you could keep going like this?

Dean leaned in but you put your hand on his chest, “not tonight.”

His eyes flicked between yours then he let go and stepped back, his arms falling heavily to his sides. He was hiding his disappointment well but something else played across his face and the only word you could think of was relief. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

You forced a smile, “yeah.”

You turned and walked away, moving through the halls on autopilot as your mind spun. You were a hunter, this lifestyle didn’t really come with a safe environment for family. Dean and Sam were a rarity but it was because they would sacrifice themselves for each other and they were needed for a bigger purpose. How many times had they’d come back from what was supposed to be the end? Hell, that reaper wanted to take them out because of all the unnatural comebacks they had been through. But what were you willing to sacrifice to stay in the loop you were in and was it really worth it?

You loved living here, being a part of the Winchester bandwagon, but so much of what you wanted was behind the curtain, under the sheets, and hidden in so much more than a back room. Could you really just play pretend for the rest of your life, your probably shorter than most life?

You closed your bedroom door and sat at the small desk in your room. You slid the notepad into the center then picked up the pen. Maybe if you could get your thoughts out, you could make a better decision, an educated decision. You began to write without thought.

Pros and cons of loving Dean Winchester, of staying in the shadows with Dean Winchester, standing in his shadow.

You scratched it all out. God, you were being ridiculously feminine. The heart wants what the heart wants. Was it your mom that said that or your dad? Did it even matter anymore?

You were always happy that they went together because you weren’t sure how they would’ve coped without the other. They were the best representation of a loving, healthy relationship you had ever seen and ever since you could understand, you wanted what they had one day. But you had nothing close to it and the worst part was you had been okay with that in a lifestyle that never lasted long. At least, you had been okay with it for a while.

The first splash on the paper surprised you and you tried to wipe it away but it only smeared the ink. Your chest ached, burning for oxygen that your lungs could only be denied for so long before it burst. It was time for you to make up your mind before you took your final breath regretting the last years of your life for not taking what you wanted, maybe what you needed. You couldn’t live like this, not anymore. You wouldn’t only be hurting yourself but disrespecting your parents memory. They wanted everything for you and you were the only one making excuses for the things you were so willing to throw away.

No, it was time to go. You couldn’t stay in this limbo, this in between where only looks and secret meanings were real and the rest was just a charade. You knew he didn’t want this, he’d said it a thousand times. You were nice to have around and he loved you in a way, there was affection there but it wasn’t enough. You were second or more like third and that’s not what you wanted, you wanted a partner in crime, a partner that wouldn’t be bothered taking you in his arms at any time and showing the world that you were his. That wasn’t something you could ask of a man who had so much taken from him that he couldn’t bear to put someone else in the line of fire, not when so much of his time was put into protecting the one everyone knew about.

You ripped the top page off and threw it in the trash then pressed the pen to the fresh page of blank lines.

Dean,

  I’m sorry but I had to go. When you read this, I’ll be too far so please don’t try to follow. It’s time for me to find what I want need. I owe that to my parents and I owe that to myself. I will always have a place for you in my heart but this isn’t enough anymore. We will always have those times, all those trysts that I will never forget. I love you and because I know you, I can’t put you through my silly feminine outbursts.

Christ, could you be anymore passive-aggressive? You ripped the paper off the pad, crumpled it up, and threw it in the trash can. Then you stumbled to the bed and fell face first into your pillow, muffling the cries you knew would exhaust you then if you were lucky, you’d pass out.

You’d be clear headed in the morning, a much better time to make decisions.

~~

The knock at your door was soft at first and then the doorknob turned, “Y/n?”

You shot up in bed, “whathappenednow?” Your head throbbed with the quick movement and you groaned.

Dean chuckled from the open door, “morning, sunshine.”

You rubbed your eyes and brushed your hair out of your face. “Shut up.”

“I love it when you talk dirty.”

You squinted at him and cursed under your breath, “turn the light off.”

“Just the way we like it.”

It shot through you like a lightening bolt, burning through your veins and sizzling its way across your skin. Last night came back like a whip lashing you in the face. You dropped back down to your pillow ignoring the pain in your chest. “Right. What do you want?”

“We got a case. You need help packing? You don’t look so hot.”

“Yeah well, I think I’m dying. Maybe I was sick and didn’t notice because of all the other shit we’ve been dealing with. I need to sit this one out.”

“Are you sure?” He walked over to the bed and sat on the edge. “You can sleep in the car and when we’re not working I can take care of you. You know Sammy loves playing nurse.”

“No. I’ll just get in the way.”

“You’re never in the way, Y/n. Is this about last night? Do you remember last night?”

You peeked out from the pillow, “yes. I remember.”

“I’ve been thinking… you know, about what you said. It’s just with this… with Amara, I’ve told you this hold she has over me. I don’t understand it and I can’t control it. It’s just…”

“I know. I get it.”

“You always understand and I know that’s not fair for you. I’m sorry I can’t be more…for you.” His hand brushed through your hair until he found the back of your neck and squeezed the tight tendons there. His fingers continued down your spine until he slipped his hand under your shirt then laid down beside you. His voice dropping to a whisper, “I just don’t get to keep the good things. I’ve been lucky to have you this long.”

His hand smoothed back and forth across your back and you had trouble holding back tears. He knew. He knew and he was telling you goodbye. You didn’t have to say a word because all those things that were never said, they were better left unspoken.

Sam’s voice echoed through the halls and Dean pulled his hand from your shirt and scrambled off the bed. The loose floorboard in front of your door groaned as Sam stepped into the doorway. The same floorboard that had alerted you to Dean’s hovering in the beginning. “Hey y/n, you… what’s up?”

“She’s sick. Sitting this one out.” Dean offered but Sam didn’t seem to accept it.

His boots crossed the floor and he sat on the other side of the bed, his hand running over your hair and cupping the back of your head. “Do you need anything? Maybe I could make you some soup?”

The lump in your throat swelled so large you couldn’t breathe even if you wanted to. Sam. How did you completely forget that leaving Dean would mean leaving Sam? He was your best friend, the big brother you never had. You shook your head but kept your face in the pillow.

“Aw, come on. You love my chicken soup.”

“Go,” you croaked. “I’ll be fine.”

“You sure? You sound like you’re at death’s door.” He chuckled.

You have no idea. You pulled your hand from under the pillow and waved him off. “Go.”

Sam grabbed your hand and squeezed it. “Fine, but I’m making you some tea before we leave. I’ll keep the kettle in the kitchen and put some soup on low.” He kissed the top of your head then his steps grew distant as he left.

The bed shifted and you jumped slightly. He brushed your hair again and you could feel him twirl some of the strands. “Get better, okay?” He brushed your hair to the side and pressed his lips to that junction between your shoulder and neck, lingering in one of his favorite places. “Be safe.” He whispered against your skin and once again you heard the words he didn’t say, be mine.

He pulled the blanket up and covered your shoulders then left the room.

The in between. That’s where you and Dean lived, this magical place between the real world and the fantasy. The only problem was that’s all you ever were, stuck between two worlds, stuck between a need to survive and a need to feed the soul, stuck reading what wasn’t said, imagining the words neither of you could ever say. Everything was in between the lines in this world of hunting monsters that pretend almost as well as you could and you were tired of letting them take something they didn’t even know about.

Once you were sure they were gone, you packed your bags then said goodbye to the one place you’d been able to call home since you lost your last one two years ago. You closed the door and left without looking around, you couldn’t bear to take a farewell tour. One stop to the kitchen to turn off Sam’s soup and put it in the fridge then you needed to leave before you thought you saw something, heard something that changed your mind. You couldn’t read between the lines anymore. You needed something more concrete.

You kept repeating it over and over as you made it to the garage, stuck your key in the ignition and started your car. Without another thought, you drove your own baby out of the garage, closed the door, and drove away.

You looked into the rearview mirror as the bunker faded between the lines on your rear windshield. It was poetic really. That’s where you and Dean always were and where the two of you would always be.

@duchessofwinchester , @jodyri , @jencharlan

[ladyfae]

Anti Valentine's Day

My entry:not betaed Part of:a larger series I couldn't do it justice by posting it rushed Title:Children of god Paring:Gadreel reader A/N: tagging @thing-you-do-with-that-thing as requested !and it's late so I will probably polish this up in the am wanted to get it up before I get too wrapped up in the main series☺️ It was trust that landed him here. So why then did he find himself so perturbed by the thought of you not truly trusting a soul? When one was locked away in heaven’s jail all there was was time to think.One night after they had put him through the ringer in interrogation was when he first heard you. Lead in the high school play as Esmeralda your singing left the whole auditorium speechless.They weren't the only ones however.Night after night Gadreel took to watching over you. Even the one small pleasure he had brought such guilt however.Guilt he could not protect you from your cheating boyfriend who also happened to be playing Phoebus.Hearing your anguish and seeing your heartbreak was almost more than he could bear. Then more guilt when months later you were attacked on the way home from late night rehearsals.Thankfully you had not suffered more than a black eye and some scrapes but the mental damage had been done. Scared to go anywhere you retreated into yourself.Day after day Gadreel grew more angry more restless until a renegade angel appeared as though an answer to prayers to a father he didn't know even cared. Please brother protect her!Save her from this path I see she follows!i will never ask another thing for the rest of eternity!I know what I am that does not mean she should be condemned! He had done his job well protecting you,bringing you back out of the darkness. Until one day he met his end on an angel blade. Thanks to Castiel. Maybe that was why he sided with Metatron at first.Only he could protect you and he could not do that from inside a cell. Only whenever he was ordered to smite Kevin he hesitated.Kevin was human,like you. Where would Metatron’s hubris end? It was when he turned his evil toward you Gadreel knew what had to be done. Now back where it all began he was speaking to Castiel but his mind his heart was with you.Perhaps now in the end I can be the one you need. The last thing he ever heard was you screaming his name. (6 months later post reunion of Chuck and Amara) After all the pain all the nightmares and the sleepless nights.They knew how you felt.But now all you could feel was rage. You stood there glaring at Chuck and Amara “WHAT.THE.HELL?”Both the siblings seemed clueless as to why you were so full of rage. Dean had just called you in a mix of awestruck wonder and shock.Amara that stupid uppity bitch had done a number. Of all the people she could have resurrected she picks Mary freaking Winchester?How could Amara be so STUPID??? “If you are referring to Mary I merely wanted to help Dean.He gave me back my brother I wanted to return his family to him”Your hands clenched into fists “and yet you didn't stop to think of the pain you would cause did you??you NEVER think!what about all of the angels?Huh Chuck?the ones who DIED in your service the ones who trusted you to return??” Chuck’s eyes widened as he saw the flash of sheer agony in your eyes. “What about your son who guarded Eden?He made a mistake yes!But his own brothers and sisters punished him daily for it until the day he….he….” the pain was coming back so fresh and raw it sent you to your knees. “GADREEL DIED FOR YOU AND YOU DONT EVEN CARE!!!”you barely recognized your own voice as the words were ripped from your throat.Tears blurred your vision and you felt your knees wanting to give out.But you refused to let them because he had been so much stronger than that.Even in the end. The lost and forgotten They look to you still God help the outcasts Or nobody will... Amara turned to her brother “I remember Gadreel he was the only one of your sons who did not look upon me with disdain.Nor did he only see someone to be exploited like Lucifer.Why did you not return him brother?” When Chuck mumbled something Amara folded her arms eyes narrowed “what was that??” Chuck looked up mournfully “because I can't.When he sacrificed himself he put himself beyond my aid” When you heard that you launched yourself across the small space that separated you three “that is complete bullshit!!you are god!so was all of what the Bible said lies??Why should ANYONE believe in you when you do nothing but betray people??” Your fist lashed out sending Chuck to the floor bloodying his nose.Despite the fact he could end you with a thought he continued to let you wail on him until Amara’s voice cut through your haze of anger. “ I have an idea.But it will require a tremendous sacrifice on your part (Y/N) but I sense something in you that may allow this to work.”She beckoned you closer “you are familiar with the concept of time travel yes?” You nodded numbly “Yeah that douchebag Zachariah sent Dean back before.Separating Mary from John wasn't right either you know” Amara cast an amused glance at her brother and murmured “one I intend to rectify soon.Now I am going to send you back.Three days before his death should do it.You must either convince him not to do this in the way he intends or….”for being the all powerful darkness she looked reluctant to finish her sentence. Your eyes were huge as she began to explain her plan “or????cmon tell me the rest!!”Time just then had no meaning for you.For the first time in a very long time you felt hope.It bloomed like the rarest of flowers inside your heart. Amara spoke soft and you swore it felt like razor blades tore through your psyche. “Or you must take his place.The events his death triggered are locked points in history now.Someone will have to die that day (Y/N)” You thought only for a moment.A chance to save Gadreel and still keep history on track or hasten the death you knew was coming from losing the only man you ever loved.There was no contest. “Do it”

[profprocrastination]

Angry All The Time

Title: Angry All The Time

Summary: this is your story with Dean. But not all endings are happy. But you have a happy middle and a very happy beginning.

Word count: 2444

Warnings: Angst, fluff, mention of child abuse. Do not read if you are sensitive to mentions of abuse.

A/N: This is my entry to @thing-you-do-with-that-thing ‘s Anti-Valentine’s day challenge. I am terrible at writing, so I apologise about any mistakes and I hope you enjoy this terrible piece of literature. Enjoy! 

gifs are not mine. And imagine maison and west are yours and dean’s children, not misha’s. Just for this story.

—————————————————————————————————-

You lay there looking up at the sky. In this moment, you think of a quote that had always boggled your mind.

“Dying, she gave her last smile to the world, that had been so unkind.”

You never understood how the world could be so unkind to somebody. Somebody who was not peculiar, but was so important that everything and everyone was so unkind. Who would fall into that category of the population of earth. You could think of a few people that would, but they had already met their ending.

 The world is a dangerous place. There has always been a darkness that was there. Lurking around every bend of our lives and homes. Does this darkness have a name? This cruelty, this hatred, how does it find its victims? Does it sneak into our lives undetected, or do we seek it out and embrace it? That we send our children into the world and into war? Hoping for their safe return, knowing that some will be lost along the way. And then, we get lost along the way. Consumed our shadows and our own darkness. Does this darkness have a name?

 You could hear the tires of the impala you had rode in so many times before come to a sudden holt, the sound was enough to make you wince, if you had enough energy to do so. But you just laid there as the creaking of the front door opened. Your eyes were getting heavier by the second, you were trying to keep them open to see them, but you didn’t have the strength to do so.

You just lay there. The pain is deafening; your hands now soaked with your blood. Your dying. Your life had flashed before your eyes. But when they say that, not everything is shown. The only thing you see is the things you love. And you saw him, you saw all of them. You saw all the people that had accompanied you until this moment. The ones who have died, and the ones who are still alive. You can still remember the first time you had met your love. He was so handsome in that fake FBI suit.

 You met Dean on a wendigo in Nebraska. He met you in the sheriff’s office one morning. Sam was at Stanford learning the law, and his father was somewhere hunting a monster of some sorts. While he was standing behind a beautiful woman, which could possibly blow his cover and get him arrested. No chick-flick moments or anything, but he swore that time stood still when you turned around to see who had just entered. He knew that he had to see you again. He saw your hair in you’re a bun. You were wearing a pantsuit, which consisted of navy-blue blazer, with a white blouse and pencil skirt. With a pair of cute heels to finish the ensemble.

 He decided to introduce himself, before you could take off. “My name id special Agent Prichett. I’m here about the killings.” He said, trying to keep his voice from reaching an octave higher than it was. The sheriff looked to you, and then to Dean.

“You don’t need to worry sheriff he’s with me. Headquarters must have sent some back up without informing me first.” You reassured the man. “We just need to discuss the case.”

 When you had seen him, you could see a scar that went from the nape of his neck, up to the right side of his face. You knew he was a hunter then. But you couldn’t help but stare into his emerald eyes that were staring back at you. You saw that his eyes were cracking around the pupils. He was broken, or if not, breaking. He had a firm jaw line; which could cut through glass. A strong build and arms that could break tree trunks under those suit sleeves. He was keeping himself up right on a pair of bow legs, to top it all off. You could see a scar that resented on his jaw. It was prominent, but hidden by his stubble. It started on one side of his face and ended on the other side.

 You both stood in front of the sheriff. He was explaining theories that the station had, and all the murder cases and their factors. So, what the suspicion was, what the motives were and all that. When you were finished with the talk you decided to go outside and head back to your motel. Once you were both done talking with the sheriff you headed out to the parking lot.

“So, what do you think it is?” You asked, knocking him off his guard. “Oh, come on. You can’t expect me to not see it. You’re practically a walking target for anything of the supernatural.”

“Well, you’re right. I am a hunter, and you’re one to?” You nodded. “Well, my brother found out it’s a wendigo and we’re going out to find it tonight. Maybe I’ll see you then.” He said implying that he will find you.

“Maybe you will.” You teased back. Walking towards your mustang. You didn’t look back, meaning that you didn’t see Dean licking his lips at the sight of your swaying hips, or the look on his face when he realized that he never got your name.

 You’re pulled from your last-minute contemplation about the earth and life, by a pair of heavy boot running towards you and around the warehouse filled with crates and boxes. They’re looking for you. They came to a holt when they were right beside you. You slowly turn you head to see them, they’re there. Looking at you with tears in their eyes, looking straight at you. They sprint their way towards you. One of them removes your arms from around your stomach, looking at the damaged inflicted upon you. They knew that there was nothing that they could do to save you. All they could do was watch you as the light leaves your eyes.

 Another memory started to make it way into your mind. It was on the same day you had met Dean. It was the hunt that you met him as Dean Winchester, and not Agent Prichette.

 That night when you were on a hunt and you ran into the two of them. That’s when Dean had seen you for the second time that day. He knew that there was something that held you two together. He knew that you were worth holding onto. He saw you lighting the liar alight when they were just arriving to kill the beast.

 “So. Earlier, I never got your name sweetheart. So how about telling me now?” He asked smoothly and politely.

“Sure. My name is (Y/N), and your name is Dean and you have a brother named Sam.” He looked t you like you had a second head growing from your shoulder. “You really think that you two are subtle. Please, every hunter knows who the Winchesters are, and what they look like.”

 “Well I’ve been told that a lot. But never with somebody as beautiful as you.” He said a cheesy pick up line. But you didn’t hear him, you were walking away, he had waited too long to reply and say something to you. He just stood there as you started to make your way to your car. Hoping that he luck hadn’t run out and that he would see you again.

Two months later, you both ran into each other again. It was like the red string of faith was pulling the two of you together. But it was different this time, you were at Bobby’s stitching up your wounds. The boys were on their way because they didn’t know that you had already killed what they were after.

 Dean had managed to sum up enough courage to ask you out on a proper date. You said yes, of course. And that’s when the cogs started to spin.

 You both then started going on dates and hunts together. Things turned darker than you had ever anticipated them to be, but you had him and he had you. That’s all the two of you needed.

 Dean still though that he was nothing but a grunt. A stupid person who was programmed to do as he was told. He hated himself so much, that he never cared about whether he lived or died, he never asked or stayed long enough to be thanked, and he was willing to risk everything so you and Sam would be safe. Even if that meant he wasn’t there anymore.

You stuck by him though. He needed someone to love other than family. You were family when you walked down the aisle and said your vows. But it was different. You were his rock, his anchor. He had tried to be his own anchor, but everybody had a breaking point. That was when you had almost died. Not by a creature, but a drunk driver.

 You were taken to the emergency room and was immediately put into surgery that lasted for ten hours. Dean, during that time, had realized that he needed you to be with him. He needed to protect you and keep you safe in his arms. When you got out, you were in a coma for a few days. Dean never left you side, while Sam brought him clothes and food and coffee so he could function. Not caring that it was killing him on the inside with that lifestyle. But you woke up, and were put under even more protection.

A year after that you had found out you were pregnant. With a baby boy. The wait was torture, dean was there all the way. You named him Robert Johnathan Winchester. He had his father’s hair and your eyes. He had Dean’s courage and selfishness, with your kindness and consideration. That personality was put into full speed when you told him that you were pregnant again, with a girl this time.

You called her Charlotte Mary Winchester, but you nicknamed her Charlie after you had an adventure LARPING with her and dean. She had your stubbornness and her father’s smarts. She grew up looking like a mini you, per Dean.

It was the most fun you had in a while. You were the princess with Dean as a knight. Robert and Charlie were then the prince and princess of the imaginary land.

Somewhere along the way, fate just so happened to hate the Winchesters and you. There was a demon called Abaddon who almost killed you, but killed your husbands grandfather. But since then he had taken on the responsibility of taking on the mark of Cain to kill her with the first blade. You could see in his eyes that he was slowly losing all his sanity.

He was constantly angry all the time and obsessed with trying to get cured. Which meant that he started to get very stressed, meaning he got very sleep deprived and very snappy. He was mad all the time. You couldn’t stay with a man that could hurt your children. So, you had to leave. You had to bet away before a whiskey bottle started flying, and bruises started to form on their and your skin.

And here you were now getting ready to leave the man you love forever. You had a duffel bag packed for you, Robert and Charlie in the trunk of your car. A 1965 Mustang. Charlie was buckled in her car seat and fast asleep. Robert was staring out of the window waiting for you to join him and his sister.

 You looked at Dean’s peaceful face. He looked so calm. You walked towards the door and placed the letter you had wrote on his dresser near the door of your shared room. You looked down at your hand to see the ring you had. The ring that symbolized yours and Dean’s undying love, the on that you had vowed not to take off, and he one he said the thing he had wanted to since you had met him. But it had to go. You slid the silver band off your finger and placed it over the piece of paper. But you were keeping your engagement ring

 You open the door and look back, seeing Dean stir a little, but not waking up. You turn away from your sight. You didn’t think that your heart could take anymore. So, you walk to your car with your children inside. They’ll probably be asking for their daddy, you would just have to lie. But you open the bunker’s garage door and start the car. You will never see him again. As far as you know.

 Dean woke up an hour later. He reached out to find your half of the bed was empty and cold. He shot up immediately, to only be blinded by the sun coming through the window. He sprinted to Robert’s room to see that all his toys, clothes and anything else was gone. It was like he had hallucinated the whole birth of his son. He then rushed to Charlie’s room to see if he made her up to in his subconscious. There was also nothing in her room. He checked all the draws and dressers to so if there was any trace of then left. There was only a t-shirt that belonged to Robert, and a little oonzie that belonged to Charlie. He went back to his room to keep them with him.

When he entered his room, there was a twinkle in the corner of his eye. It was your wedding ring on a folded piece of paper. He felt his heart break into a million pieces. He placed your children’s clothes onto the bed as he took your ring and the note. He knew that hi life would never be the same without you, or your kids.

 Twenty years, have came and went, since I walked out of your door. I never quite made it back, to the one I was before. And God it hurts me to think of you. For the light in your eyes was gone. And sometimes I don’t know why this old world can’t leave well enough alone. The reasons that I can’t stay, don’t have a thing to do with being in love. And I understand that lovin, a man shouldn’t have to be this rough. You ain’t the only one who feels like this world’s left you far behind.I don’t know why you gotta be angry all the time

I’ll miss you

-(Y/N)

[totallynotjohngreen]

Prompt: How to Save a Life by The Fray

Characters: Humanized!Gabriel, Dead!Hunter!Reader

Pairing: GabrielXReader 

Warnings: angst, depression, reader’s suicide

Tags: angst

Summary: Gabriel reminisces over the events before the reader’s suicide, and cries a lot.

Word Count: 1026

A/N: This is for @thing-you-do-with-that-thing‘s Anti-Valentine’s Challenge. Angst is literally my specialty, so this was fun to put together.

Gabriel sat down on the bed. It was a day following the worst day of his life. He didn’t know what day it was, although he probably should have, he reasoned. He forgot how easily human brains, well, forgot. He ran his hands through his hair while leaning back, finally falling back onto the bed. Mortality had been worth it for you. Now he wasn’t sure what to do. He reviewed the past few weeks and shook his head.

A few weeks ago.

Step one. What was step one? What had your therapist said? Talk to her. Gabriel shook his head and opened your door. “Y/N? You there? We need to talk.” You looked up from your hands, both covered in paint. So you had been painting. That was good. Gabriel knew that painting was your happy place, and with all that had been going on, he knew you needed it now more than ever. You gave him a smile that he knew was fake, but decided not to mention it. He sat down, and you stood, looking at your painting before beginning to pace. Gabriel looked at you, worried. “Y/N, please. Sit with me. I only want to talk to you.” You sat next to him, giving him an apologetic smile. Gabriel knew talks made you nervous. He put his arm around you.

 You began to tell him about the dream you had had. It had worried you, even frightened you. Both you and he were walking a path. You had turned, and Gabriel had gone the other way, through a window. You had lost sight of him. Then you fell, fell deep into darkness. You gestured to the painting you had finished, and Gabriel observed that you had added yourself into a darkened environment. You often painted what you didn't understand. He smiled at you and hugged you close. "I won't leave you, Y/N. No, I could never."

Now

“What did I do? Why couldn’t I save her?” Gabriel flipped himself over so that he faced the pillow. “Why did I go on that hunt? Why didn’t I stay with her?” He cursed and tried to keep his tears at bay. Of course the radio chose that moment to play. Gabriel recognized the song. It had been one of your favorites.

And I would have stayed up

With you all night

Had I known

How to save a life…

Gabriel could no longer hold back the floodgates. The tears spilled onto his pillow.

A few weeks ago.

“Hey, Y/N, I’ve been around a few millennia. I know about these things.” Gabriel was trying to convince you to take a day with him. “When humans get to this level, they need a break. You did say you wanted to be a normal girl for one day, right? Let’s do it.” Gabriel knew that your depression was beating back through your mind. He was trying to talk you down. “Look, I know what you’ve been thinking, Y/N. You can’t do it. Don’t you understand? Everyone needs you. We couldn’t do it without you.” You nodded half-heartedly at his statements. “Look, uhg,” Gabriel ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “You never reach out. You stayed holed up in here unless we’re hunting. You’ve got to go out.” Gabriel prayed to God that you would listen, prayed that you would at least give him a smile, or promise to change. All he got, however was a slight nod as you stood and slipped on your jacket. “Let’s go.” Your voice didn’t sound enthusiastic. It just sounded monotonous.

Now

And pray to God he hears you

And pray to God he hears you…

Gabriel yelled and pounded his fists into the mattress. Your last moments hadn’t even been heroic. Why couldn’t you have at least gone down fighting?

Last week

You were fighting. Gabriel was trying to reason with you, tell you it was going to get better. You kept telling him that it wasn’t, and just what was he accusing you of? “Look, Y/N, you’ve got a choice here. You can keep going, keep pushing until the drop-off, or you can cut the tow now and stop. Your life will end there. It’s your choice, but I wish you would stay with us. With me.” He wanted you to tell him it was true, that you had been considering killing yourself, but instead all you said was, “Nothing is wrong, Gabriel. I’ve just changed. I see the world for what it truly is.” He mentally added, ‘and you don’t want to be a part of it’ to the end of your sentence. Why had he even tried? You obviously were not going to confess. He wrapped you in a tight hug before going to the door. “Look, Y/N, the hunt’s going to go for about two days. Think you can handle yourself?” At your nod, he walked out, turning to give you one last look of love before closing the door.

Now

You had, he realized. You had gone down fighting. You had been fighting the depression, your own little demon. The demon had won, left you curled up in the bathroom with a note and an open bottle of pills. But for the first time, he was not calmed by your honored fight. The one monster you couldn’t defeat, and it was in your own head.

Now, Gabriel finally understood your favorite song. He sang it in a soft voice still raw from crying and yelling:

Where did I go wrong?

I lost a friend

Somewhere along in the bitterness

And I would have stayed up with you all night

Had I known

How to save a life…

His voice broke and he had to pause. He knew he’d see you again someday, but he didn’t know how he was going to survive in the meantime. He went back to the chorus again, trying to keep his voice steady to calm himself.

Where did I go wrong?

I lost a friend

Somewhere along in the bitterness

And I would have stayed up with you all night

Had I known

How to save a life…

How to save a life….

Gabriel turned off the light and fell back on the bed, your memory hovering over him like a ghost. He knew this was one haunting he would never be able to exorcise.