#SPN FANFIC

[castiwls]

bed chem .ᐟ

Paring; dean x reader

Prompt; 'i bet we'd have really good bed chem'

Requested; anon

Notes; requests are open again!

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

It wasn’t often you found yourself drawn to a stranger sitting in the bar on a random Tuesday night. Normally the patrons of your local bar were your father's age and tended to come simply to chat up the bartenders and start fights over who won at pool. 

Yet today it was different.

You’d noticed him almost immediately and it seemed he’d noticed you as well as in record time you’d found yourself tucked away in a back corner laughing at whatever joke fell from his mouth. One-night stands had never been a good idea - one too many awkward next mornings had all but made the whole idea lose its charm.

Yet sitting her now? You’d never been more ready for an awkward morning in your life.

You’d never understood what your friends had meant when they spoke about instant sexual attraction. How they could look at a guy and just know yet right in this moment you finally understood.

“You can’t be serious?” You laughed, taking a sip from your drink as the stranger - who you now knew as Dean - simply grinned and nodded his head. “As serious as I can be sweetheart.” He shot you a wink before finishing his own drink and placing the glass down with a quiet ‘click.’

He watched you for a moment, his green eyes shining under the dim lights of the bar. His eyes seemed to ravish you almost as his gaze slowly raked over your face, a slight flutter settling in his stomach.

“So, what brings you to this fine establishment on a tuesday night? I’m sure there is more… interesting places for a woman like you.” He raised an eyebrow, a smile which could only be described as charming growing on his lips as he watched you blush slightly.

Seeming satisfied with himself he slowly crept a hand across the small table, his fingers brushing yours where they were still wrapped around your glass. Your own heart was thundering in your chest as his touch seemed to light your skin on fire. 

Your own eyes watched his hand for a moment before clearing your throat. “Small town. Not many options.” A small hum left him as his other hand tapped the table for a moment. “Tight nit.” Dean nodded looking over to the barman for a moment.

The man sent him a guarded look as he watched you both closely while cleaning a glass. “Not everyone's as welcoming as you.”

Nodding you shifted in your seat. “Small town you know. Everyone knows everyone…we’re all pretty close.” 

Dean looked back to you, his smile returning. “Your friend at the bar looks about ready to chop my head off.” His smile slowly slipped into a smirk as an idea lit up in his head. The bar tender had been giving him shit all night - all day actually but you didn’t know that. 

He was more then sure that he was the guy they were looking for but you seemed far more interesting. This could be a win win almost for him, he’d get the girl and also maybe provoke the guy into acting to prove that he actually was who they were looking for.

A quiet laugh left you. The sound was music to his ears almost as he watched your eyes crinkle. “Coles harmless he’s just…protective.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

You hummed quietly raising the glass back to your lips but Dean’s hand stopped you. His own hand wrapped around yours, bringing the glass back down to the table before leaning closer, his knees brushing yours.

Was this actually happening?

His hand reached out to push a strand of your hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek. “Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?”

“Are you trying to sweet talk me?”

“Is it working?” He grinned, his eyes lingering on your lips.

Shifting you lent closer, your faces only inches apart. “You have a car?” 

The words seemed almost foreign on your tongue. The drink giving you a confidence you’d never had before. 

But something inside you was screaming that this was the right thing to do. 

Dean’s own eyes widened before he cast a look at the door. “I like your thinking.” 

[the-fluffstiel-bang]

Happy Birthday, Castiel!

It's Castiel's birthday and what better way to celebrate it than to sign up as an ARTIST for our fantastic FLUFFSTIEL BANG!

We have a ton of authors being busy bees, creating beautiful fluffy destiel fics for you to choose from.

You can read the rules, guidelines, and schedule here!

And here is where you can sign up to do your magic: Sign ups for artists, betas, and pinch hitters

Sign up now and celebrate with us!

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Animato

Chapter Thirty Four

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader

Other characters: Gibson Child OMC, Bobby, Annie, Victor, Charlie, both bands and roadies, nameless DJs

Word Count: 3160

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, still unbeta'd, the last of Uncle Dean for a while, drinking and mild drug use, smoking cigarettes (do not come at me for this), Kevin calling Dean out publicly but subtly.

Series Masterlist

The rapid beat of a double-stroke roll woke Dean from the haze of sleep. He cracked one eye open and found the source of the wake up call. Gibson, sitting on the floor in Dean’s suite, was wailing on the coffee table while watching a random infomercial on the hotel’s tv’s world class Sunday morning programming. At least the little dude hadn’t gotten into Dean’s guitars without asking. 

“Gibby! What gives, man?”

“Oh, sorry,” the little boy didn’t even look back, instead he lightened his efforts into a tapping from the original knocking.

Dean huffed and fell back onto his pillow, muttering to himself and the ceiling, “I guess we’re up for the day.”

They had spent the night watching old monster movies and eating pizza. Dean had even taken Gibson to the hotel’s pool for a dip before the adult only hours kicked in. He had no idea how Pam and Lee kept up with the kid on a normal day, Dean was fucking beat. And that was after he slept more than double his usual night’s rest. 

How was it after nine already?! No wonder the kid was bored.

“You hungry? Probably should see if the buffet’s still going,” Dean asked suddenly.

“Okay!” Gibson dropped his sticks on the coffee table and hopped up with the unbridled energy of youth.

“Yeah, uh, I gotta throw some real pants on, dude.” Dean dragged himself to the edge of the bed and rolled his back. “Give Uncle Dean a minute and we can head down.”

Gibson nodded, but then ran to the counter in the kitchenette. “I made you coffee! They’ve got the little cups. But that was a while ago.”

Dean raised his eyebrow and surveyed the damage from his perch on the bed. “You make one for yourself?”

“Yep! It was gross. And the pink sugar didn’t help.”

“Yeah, well, that’s because it is gross. White or brown are best— no matter what Uncle Sam says.”

Gibson giggled, walking carefully over to Dean with the paper cup sloshing slightly. Dean wanted to help him, but he looked so proud of himself that Dean just sat back and clenched his hands as he awaited the delivery.

“Thanks, buddy,” Dean diligently took a sip. It was god awful. Cold, sure, but also really bitter and thin. Thankfully the kid didn’t think to add anything for him. He sighed and took another gulp while trying not to breathe and taste it more. “Uh—-yeah. Can’t start the day without some fuel.”

“You like it?”

“Yeah, man, of course. Now, I am gonna get dressed, find your shoes so we can get some grub.”

Turned out, the continental breakfast was already being cleaned up when they got back downstairs. Gibson’s spirits dropped instantly, but Dean assured him it was alright, and took the little man over to the attached restaurant that was hopping with the brunch crowd. 

“Look who the cat dragged in!” Bobby’s voice caught Dean’s attention as they rounded the corner with the hostess. “Make room. Miss— these idjits are with us, sorry they don’t have any manners about showing up on time.”

“Alright, I’ll— uh, I’ll let your server know.”

Dean had the wherewithal to murmur and hand over his thanks and apologies right in time to get a surprised smile. Kevin and Annie were on Bobby’s right while Sam and a very hungover looking Victor filled out the left side of the six person table.

“Rough night?” Dean teased.

“It aint over yet,” Victor lamented.

“Ooof! Been there, man. More bacon’ll help.”

Just then their server returned with two extra chairs and a busser slid in two extra place settings for them. “Thank you— thank you both. Seriously.”

“Of course, let me get you some menus.” Then the server disappeared in a flurry, weaving through the crowd of people in various states of dress and sobriety.

Kevin nudged Gibson with his elbow. “How was the sleepover at Dean’s? I bet he snores.”

Everyone around the table laughed.

“Bite me, Kev. Gibby, steal me one of his fries would ya?”

Gibson looked back and forth between the two men. “What?! No.”

Dean just shrugged. “He deserved it.”

“Two wrongs don’t make it alright,” Gibson told him knowingly.

“Yeah, UNCLE DEAN,” Sam butted in.

“From the mouths of babes,” Annie said, shaking her head in amusement. 

Kevin just laughed and took an obnoxious Dean-sized bite of fries.

“So— last day on tour until school’s out, what do you want to do today?” Bobby asked the star of the table.

“Is Mom and Dad awake? I want to see them ‘fore Grammy comes and gets me.”

“And you will, dude. I’m guessing they’re just up in their rooms getting dressed or something. It’s still early yet.”

“What timezone are you in?!” Bobby gave Dean the stink eye.

Dean ignored his manager and just ruffled Gibson’s hair. The menus appeared and they all settled in for another hour of each other’s company. 

        Dean knew it had to be hard for Gibson when they were on tour, he’d lived his own childhood with his dad barely there. But to have both parents out of reach for months at a time seemed worse. That’s why they made sure to give Pam and Lee breaks on the road, fly them home for three days at a time when they could. And they let Gibson come along when he didn’t have school.

It still felt like a worse case scenario though. He didn’t even have a little brother to make the days go by faster. Lee’s mom and their nanny were all he had outside of school friends. And the dogs. At least the kid got pets too.

Dean never did.

“Full House, bitches!” Charlie declared and threw her cards into the center of the table. “Jacks over twos.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Madison exclaimed, leaning in to inspect Charlie’s hand herself. She’d tagged along with Lee’s mom down to San Diego so she could join in on the Vegas leg of the trip. 

“She always pulls it out, I swear to god. I don’t know how, but she does,” Sam muttered and tossed his hand to Dean to shuffle for the next round.

They were an hour into the trip to Vegas and the mood on the bus was contagious. No more little ears and eyes to worry about, meant that the bottles and the bongs came out and the chips were stacked high across the tiny table. 

“Alright, alright, fair hand. Get your cards in, and maybe you can win some of them stacks back. If you’re lucky,” Dean taunted, collecting the rest of cards and sliding them back into a deck to be shuffled. “Trouble? Ante up.”

You tossed your share into the pot and took another sip of your drink. Dean felt your eyes on him as he dealt, bottom lip between his teeth in concentration. Technically, he knew everyone was watching him as he doled the next hand, but your attention felt heavier the last few days. Maybe you knew something he wasn’t ready for you to know.

Maybe you were waiting for him to fuck up again.

Or maybe it was all just wishful thinking and you weren’t really watching him at all. Either way, he was preoccupied with it all when he picked up his cards to find absolute trash.

“Oh Christ. I’m going to need more to drink. KEVIN! Another round of shots, if you don’t mind?”

You chuckled. “Dealer can’t deal to himself, huh?”

“Apparently not,” Dean muttered, not even bothering to pick up his cards again.

“More chances for the rest of us at least,” Madison pointed out and placed her call bet.

The afternoon turned into night while Bobby drove on. Games and ridiculousness ensued. Just when they stopped for dinner, Dean found himself in the playful overlap of drunk and stoned. 

He hummed a few bars of some pop number that was playing over the truckstop speakers and Kevin joined in in harmony as they trudged across the parking lot to the twenty four hour diner. Lee came in for the chorus and they started getting louder and sillier with it, doing the monkey walk with Dean in the middle of the two shorter guys.

Dean couldn’t hear the radio station any longer, but they carried it along, finishing the number strong while guessing at some of the lyrics. When everyone had reached the double doors of the restaurant, he caught you and Charlie with your phones up recording the shenanigans. Meanwhile, Sam and Madison were giggly, leaning a little heavier on one another than most people would be at just after seven at night.

“Alright, cool it you damn buffoons. Let’s see if they’ve got room for everyone,” Bobby grunted before disappearing inside.

“Looks like you guys are the fun bus!” Donna greeted, as SPS and company caught up with them.

“Just gettin’ started darlin’,” Dean drawled, nodding and smirking. “Though I doubt it’s all charades and crochet on Big Bertha over there either.”

Jody took a swig off of her flask. “Oh, fuck no. Nancy knits, but that’s about it. But that’s only when the Adderall kicks in.”

She dangled the metal bottle out towards the circle of waiting musicians in offering. Kevin and Pam both took a pull and passed it back. Then the equipment rig pulled in and the headcount shot up even more. Benny sauntered over with a knowing glint in his eye as he stepped right in between Dean and Donna. 

“We think we gettin’ in or gotta spread out to the fast food joints?”

“Hard to say, looks pretty dead in there, but that might mean there’s a small staff too,” you answered as everyone’s head craned to look inside.

“Alright, well I’m heading over to the cancer section until we hear one way or the other,” Jody nodded towards Annie and Patience smoking down the sidewalk. 

Dean perked up and followed her like an earnest puppy. He wasn’t a habitual smoker anymore, but he definitely still imbibed, especially on the road. Sam’s influence could only go so far. But oddly, you were trailing along behind him, followed by Jesse and a newer, yet awkward roadie that he’d only heard called Chief.

You actually pulled a pack out of your purse and held one out to Dean expectingly. “What?” you asked like an accusation.

“Are you just smoking because you’d knew I would be or—?”

You exhaled your first pull and offered him your lighter. “It’s been a fucking week, okay? Let me have this until we hit the states with actual vegetation and I have to deal with allergies too.”

Dean lit his cigarette nodding and blew out a smoke ring. “You don’t have to justify it to me, I was just checking I’m not the bad influence.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re always a bad influence, doesn’t mean I still didn’t choose it.”

That got him a little hot, if he was being honest. And he felt his smile all the way to the tips of his ears. “Damn, Trouble. Always knocking me back on my heels, you know that?”

You took another drag and shrugged, looking around to see everyone else somehow in their own conversations. “Part of the job.”

“Nah, that parts all you.” Dean said without even meaning to.

You looked up at him and gave him a little squint. “You need to eat something or you’re gonna be miserable in a couple hours.”

“I’m trying!” He huffed, gesturing with his cigarette towards the front doors, right as Bobby made his glorious return.

“Listen up!” Bobby glanced around at the bands and accumulated crew. “They’ve only got room for thirty folks, so line up and whoever is stuck at the back’s gotta find something else. We’re pulling out of here no later than ten o’clock, so be on time or be left behind.”

You chuckled over the hard-learned line.

Dean sucked a deep pull off his cigarette, trying to speed through it and getting lightheaded in the process. 

“Uh,” he exhaled and looked over at you then over you towards the rest of businesses in the travel center. “We trying to get in or we taking a walk?”

“I’m finishing my square.” You pointed to yourself and held up your cigarette.

Dean couldn’t get over your sass tonight. “Alright, then. A walk it is.”

It ended up with Jody and Patience sticking around while you and Dean finished smoking and then all four of you headed to the Arby’s across the parking lot. 

“Alright, folks, we got a quick segment at the end to wrap things up. Phantom Traveler, are you ready to ‘Hit It or Quit It’?” the gruffer DJ asked them from his chair across the room.

They barely all fit in the little sound booth, but managed to squeeze together to make it work. Lee, Pam and Kevin were on the three stools they provided, while Dean and Sam hovered over them to get at the shared mic. It was six o’clock in the morning and Dean didn’t know if any of them had even slept. But there they were anyway.

“It is five questions we ask in rapid succession and you just say the first thing that comes to mind. And since all five of you are here, we’ll just go down the line— or clockwise I guess,” the younger DJ explained.

“I’m game!” Dean exclaimed, futsing with the ball cap on his head.

Pamela, who was holding the mic, winked. “Let’s hear ‘em, boys.”

The DJs laughed. “Alright, Pamela’s ready. First question: Who’s got the craziest ex’s of the band?”

Everyone ‘Oh’d!’.

Lee leaned in and said deeply into the mic. “I’m sitting right here!” 

“Couldn’t have planned that one any better!” Dean teased.

“Wait! I want to hear the answer though!” Kevin butted in, steering them back on track.

“NEW KID doesn’t know these things yet!” The first DJ said excitedly.

“Oh, this is too easy, though,” Pam rumbled.

“Yeah, sorry, bro, everyone knows this one,” Dean tacked on.

“Eat me,” Sam snapped back.

“But yeah, it’s Sammy for sure,” Lee agreed.

Sam rolled his eyes but the DJs just ate it up.

“Okay! Second question is—- for—- Lee! Favorite venue you’ve ever played?”

“Seriously? He gets a real question and I got a Cosmo question?” Pamela said, annoyed, but not quite into the mic.

“Seriously— I’m just reading off the list,” the younger DJ promised, holding up a clip board.

“That one’s easy— Harvelle’s back home.”

“Hands down,” Sam agreed.

“Best burgers in Nebraska, too,” Dean tacked on.

“Ellen’s gonna kill you,” Pam warned.

“Totally worth it,” Dean shot her down.

“Yeah. Nothing like playing for your hometown,” Lee finished.

“What a bunch of saps!” The older guy teased. “Okay, okay, I’ll let you have it. Sam— third question: Who would you still like to collaborate with? You’ve got Annie Hawkins on the latest album, you’ve played with some of the greats at some special events— I know you all were close with the late, great Rufus Turner and now you’re touring with his granddaughter’s band Sheriffs, Psychics and Secretaries. Who else?”

“Uh, honestly? I’d kill to play with Sarah and Provenance, even though our sounds are totally different. Maybe Mick Davies? Especially now that he’s left Men of Letters, I am looking forward to what he works on next.”

“Wow— those are not names I expected to come up today. But, yeah, okay— always the wildcard Sam Winchester!” The younger DJ seemed genuinely surprised and maybe even impressed.

Dean could tell it annoyed Sam, but he was always way smarter than anybody gave his bodybuilder-shaped self credit for.

“DEAN! Question numero four: If you weren’t a rockstar— okay, musician– what would you be doing?”

“Right now I’d be sleeping, that’s for damn sure.”

Everyone laughed and nodded. “I don’t blame you there, but for a job?”

Dean scratched his three day stubble. “I always say I’d have made a killer mechanic or car restorer, but, uh, honestly at this point in my life I’m going to go with firefighter.”

“Nice, very heroic.” The first DJ approved.

“Dude!” Sam gave him a look that asked if he was alright.

Dean shrugged. “Well, hopefully we won’t have to find out. Just a reminder we’ve got two shows at Cesar’s Palace tomorrow night and Wednesday!” he plugged like they needed help selling tickets.

“Which are completely sold out! We’ve got tickets for our listeners tomorrow morning at seven, eight and nine if you listen for the code to play.” The younger DJ picked up where Dean left off. “One more question and you guys can get on with your days. And it’s for Kevin Tran— the newest member of the band, stepping up for the now reclusive Cas Novak. Fifth and final question!---”

Dean flinched at Cas’ name coming up, but all things considered, it could have been a much more brutal comment. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Bobby whisper something to you through the glass in the adjoining room.

“In one word describe your bandmates.”

“One word total or—?”

“One word a piece,” Sam clarified.

“Yeah one word total. Band. That’d be the worst question answered ever,” the first DJ joked.

“Okay, okay, I got it. For Pam I’ll say ‘badass’. Lee’s word will be ‘groovy’. Sam gets ‘salad’ and Dean can have ‘Trouble’.”

“Oh, fuck,” Lee actually had to cover his mouth. While everyone else just about choked on their own spit. 

Dean glared at the kid, but didn’t say anything, counting down from twenty in his head.

“It is going to be a very long tour, folks,” Sam tried to ease some of the tension, clearly the DJs did not get the significance of what was just said.

“Alright that is a wrap with Phantom Traveler, in town for just a few days on the start of their latest tour. Thank you guys, it was a blast. Their fifth album drops next month. You guys have been digging the new single, so we’re gonna close with that as we get these guys on their way.”

The intro to ‘Baby’ played in the background as everyone handed over their headphones and shook the DJs' hands. Their marketing people came in for some quick publicity shots. Dean spotted you getting matching angles, where you stood behind their photographer, for the band’s socials.

God, he wasn’t ready. He had no idea if you caught what Kevin had said or if you knew he was really talking about you. The little punk had to go and say that shit on air of all places. 

One thing was for sure, Dean’s time was running out. Sooner or later somebody was going to let it slip and it wasn’t fair to you to hear it from anyone but him. Now, he just had to figure out how.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

@brightlilith

@coldhearted93

@djs8891

@beautiful-places-blog

@n-o-p-e-never

@spxideyver

[thefastestqueeralive]

THESE HALLWAYS ECHO

A @deancashorrorfest fic coming this October!

Story by @thefastestqueeralive Artwork by @celestialstarlight27

Rating: Mature

Word Count: ~9000

Tags/Warnings: Major character death, graphic description of suicide, body horror, blood and gore, isolation, suicidal thoughts

Teaser:

Loneliness. Previously, Dean Winchester had thought he knew the definition of the word, the way it felt to be isolated. That was wishful thinking. It’s here and now, in these never-ending corridors of winding walls and this damn carpet with the nauseating pattern, where Dean discovers the true meaning of being alone. Solitary. Detached. The man hears ghosts, echoes of conversations long since over, but there’s nobody for him to speak to. Dean sees the phantoms of late vacationers stepping through doorways or occupying beds but he can never get anybody’s attention. No one stops to hear him. Not a single soul has looked him in the eye or acknowledged that he, too, is trapped here. Caught in this unending hallway where time means nothing and waiting for tomorrow is fruitless.

[midnightsilver]

My artwork for ‘lullaby for a rainstorm’ written by @tellmetheskyisblue for the @midambang24

If you want to read this beautiful, ephemeral story you can find more info here

Painting Timelapse under cut

Timelapse video of my painting process. Painted in procreate in digital oil paints. Storm gif effects added in Werble.

[video image ID: a Timelapse video of painting process for the scene of Adam on top the lighthouse with the storm raging around him.]

[nightxcreature]

My husband is watching spn for the first time, he's currently somewhere in mid-season 6. Tell me why I remember absolutely nothing about this season. He's asking me things about episodes and I'm just like ??? I'm unsure as well, My Guy. What is wrong with Sam? Who are the Alphas? Does this season even exist? Who am I? Who are you? Where are we?

[thesirencove]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓆜 A DATE AT THE AQUARIUM -- SAM WINCHESTER X FEM!READER

a fluffy fic for once !! i've been wanting to go to the aquarium for a while now , and what better way to fill that piece in my heart than a cute , fluffy sam aquarium date fic ?! i hope you all enjoy this one :)) thank you to riri (@rrylies) for beta reading and helping me with my fishy madness -- ILY !!!

my requests are open and if anyone wants a part 2 , let me know ! :)

sam winchester x fem!reader (romantic)

summary: reader has been on non-stop hunts for a while and needs a break . she loves going to the aquarium , so what better way for sam to cheer her up than an aquarium date ? :)

warnings: none !

word count: 914

the aquarium was always her favorite place to go. there wasn’t much normalcy in the hunter life, but a trip to admire the fish always restored a little sense of peace in her heart. something about the aquarium always made her feel calm, and ever since her childhood her love for marine life had been as wild as she was.

after four months of hunt after hunt, that feeling had once again started to disappear. it’d been a long time since she last got to take a trip to the aquarium, and she was starting to miss it. she missed the dark environment, the subtle noise of the water sloshing around as she shivered and rubbed her arms from how cold it was. she missed it so much, yet didn’t expect to be going any time soon because of how many hunting trips she and the winchester brothers had been taking. 

so when sam, her most loving boyfriend, told her to get ready because they were going out for a while, to get out of the continually shrinking walls of their motel room, she thought nothing of it. she assumed they were just going for a drive, maybe they’d stop and get something to eat along the way. and when she realized sam was pulling into the parking lot of an aquarium, her eyes absolutely lit up. 

sam looked over to her, noticing how she shifted to sit straighter in her seat. her hands were clenched by her side on the seat in excitement, and she was grinning from ear to ear. he couldn’t help but smile at how excited she looked, the look in his eyes overflowing with love.

“please tell me this is real and not a dream,” she blurted out. sam chuckled at her response, taking one of his hands off the steering wheel to lightly pinch her.

“not a dream, sweetheart. we’re going on an aquarium date,” sam said, only to hear y/n quietly squeal. 

they pulled into a parking spot, y/n practically jumping out of the still running car after sam hit the brake. sam turned the car off as fast as he could, locking it and walking towards y/n near the sidewalk. she was bouncing on her heels, smiling up at her boyfriend as he stopped next to her. he held his hand out for her and she rose up on her tip toes to kiss him. he leaned down, his lips meeting hers, and she smiled once again to break the kiss.

“thank you,” she whispered, her eyes sparkling as they looked into his. 

“anything for my girl,” he murmured back, pulling her along towards the aquarium. they bought two tickets, and got their hands stamped with a blue fish to allow them to enter. 

as they made their way through the exhibits of fish, y/n couldn’t stop looking around her in awe. she would stop and watch as the fish swam by, pointing at certain ones and telling sam what kind of fish they were. at one point she saw a shark, one of her favorite marine animals, and pulled sam away from the fish they were looking at to see the shark. he laughed at how giddy she was.

they reached a smaller exhibit of fish, admiring the coral and all the smaller fish that swam in and around the coral. at one point, y/n noticed a small orange and white fish – a clownfish.

“sam, look at that one! it’s a–”

“nemo!” sam finished her sentence, though that wasn’t at all what she was planning on saying. she giggled, shaking her head.

“a clownfish! nemo is a clownfish, though, so you got that one right,” she said, turning her head back to look at the fish again. 

this time, sam pointed at another fish, coloured with red, yellow, and orange. its face was spotted two shades of red and its body had orange and yellow stripes. three black dots traced the middle of its body back to its tail. 

“what’s that one called?” he asked her, looking intently at her for the answer. 

she kept staring at the fish before saying, “that’s a blackside hawkfish! they’re actually really popular in aquariums, and it’s mostly solitary. it eats crustaceans, so like shrimp or krill, and small fish! it’s also a really cool predator, it’s an ambush predator, so it sits and waits until prey swims by, so it can dart out and eat it! and they’re sequential hermaphrodites, so the adults are all females except for one, and if that one dies or something then the largest female hawkfish becomes the male. they’re such cool fish. and isn’t it pretty?” y/n said, ending her long-winded rant about the hawkfish. 

sam kept looking at her, his expression soft as he watched the way her face tipped up and the way she stared in awe at every fish that passed by. 

“yeah,” he said, still looking at her, “the prettiest.”

in that moment, he realized he wanted nothing more than to marry her.

he wanted to put that ring around her finger, hear everyone call her y/n winchester, have her officially be his. he was already thinking up the plans – where to buy that proposal ring, where to get down on one knee.

soon, he promised himself, soon. perhaps they’d hold the wedding by the sea, so he could watch her face as she glimpsed at the fish in the water.  

[sapphireisverygaymydudes]

Dean being a dad. Cas being a weirdo about affection again. Jack being a genius toddler.

Cas walked down the silent hallways of the bunker. Looking. For what he wasn’t quite sure. But as he found his way to Deans room he heard humming. Soft and gentle, sweet and safe. The door was cracked open, Cas peaked in.

Dean sat on the edge of his bed, Jack in his lap. Jack was cradling his finger which had a Paw Patrol bandaid on it. His faced was wet, the left over remains of tears. Dean was holding Jack in his lap, rocking gently back and forth. The song he was humming was Hey Jude.

Cas remembered Dean mentioning once that Hey Jude was the song Mary would sing to him as a child. As the song neared then end Cas entered the room more, leaning up against the doorway, watching.

Dean finished the song and continued rocking back and forth. “Why’d you stop daddy?” Jack said

Read on archiveofourown

[aylacavebear]

Soulmates? Yeah, right, pft. - Ch. 15

When you turn sixteen, and your soulmate's name doesn’t appear anywhere on your body that you can find, you figure you had to be the only person on the planet who didn’t have one. Most of the town shuns you, so you stick close to family. Your Aunt Ellen raised you after your parents died in a car crash when you were two, but what happens when the Winchesters return to town and buried secrets begin to come to light?

Pairing: Mechanic Dean Winchester x OC Reader/You

Word Count: 2615

Warnings: Angst, suspense, emotional situations, The Tension is Growing, Premonitions.

A/N: This is my non-Supernatural fic I'm attempting. Please let me know what you think, as I always love hearing from my readers.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 15

For a while, you just sat there, your emotions running completely rampant as your thoughts ran laps around your mind. They all knew something that you hadn’t been told. Whatever it was, it wasn’t in your parent's letters, and it was more than Dean had already told you, which you thought had been everything.

Even if you still weren’t convinced he was your soul mate, you had kept your distance from him, only keeping things to friendship. The thought of the whole soul mate thing made your mind snap back to how you’d ended up alone in this room and looked around for a mirror. Finding one hanging over the dresser, you walked over to it and moved your dress so you could see what had only been incoherent lines.

You felt a knot in your stomach as you looked at it. The only letter that had come in was the last one, an n. 

There are other names that end with the letter ‘n.’

You needed to write down every tidbit of information you had at the moment. Quickly scanning the room, you found a notepad and a pen on one of the nightstands. 

No mark at 16. Parents killed at 2. Wounded soul. Shunned by town. Winchesters showed up 3 months before my 25th birthday. Promotion at garage and became Dean’s boss. They joked about him not doing anything funny with me. Sam and Dean knew I didn’t get my mark. Have to fully heal to get my mark. Dean knew something when he met me, and so did the boys at the garage. I could talk to Dean, easily, honestly. He saw me at school. Lisa isn’t Dean’s soulmate. Bobby had us work together on Dean’s first day, and we became friends, quickly. Dean was always thinking of me. The adults knew about the marriage contract and never told me, and they knew my parents hid key documents. Bobby and John were thankful Dean and I hit it off so quickly and became friends.

The more you wrote out, the faster your heart began beating. Most of that had only happened within the first month of meeting the Winchesters. There was so much more that was there, and you needed to see how it all fit together, like the parts of a car. That was how your mind worked, slowly seeing the connections. You’d never wanted to hope to find your soulmate, even after what Dean had said.

My parents left me letters, telling me about the Vaughts. The Vaughts knew what would happen if I lost my parents. They knew about my lineage. They knew I would be an empath.

That last line made you stop and think further.

Wait. Why would that matter? What would be the purpose of making me marry Cole? Why is that important? What about an empath, don’t I know?

You pulled out your phone and began searching online for anything related to empaths and why they’d be important, other than in specific jobs that helped people. There were more things you probably should have written down, but with the questions plaguing your mind, you had to find answers.

Nearly an hour, perhaps longer, passed, and you were still attempting to find anything that would answer your questions. You’d made a few notes, but it was only tiny pieces. One interesting thing was that if an empath found their soulmate, they could hear each other’s thoughts, but there was no conclusive evidence on the distance that worked. That didn’t help your other questions when it came to the Vaught family.

Frustrated, you tossed your phone on the bed and looked back at the list you’d been making. Reluctantly, you picked up the pen and jotted down other things. 

Dean seemed to know what I was feeling even if I hid it. He was always there when I had a nightmare. He never pushed anything intimate. All he ever did was try to comfort me and be there for me. He said he knew I was his soulmate at 16. The Vaughts

At that moment, goosebumps ran down your entire body. The Vaughts knew he was your soulmate. Dean had explained what had happened with that woman, Lisa. Even in your parents' letters, they had told you what the Vaughts were capable of. Now you had new questions, on top of the ones before.

Why didn’t Dean get closer to you? What was holding him back? Why wouldn’t he want to help you heal by being intimately close? What did your twenty-fifth birthday have to do with it all, and why was that date so important? 

That’s when you remembered Sam had told you that the powers that be were keeping this sort of thing from making it to the regular news. You glanced at the closed door of that bedroom and sighed, setting the pen down on the notepad. Yeah, you could storm back down there and demand answers, but what would it accomplish? 

You reluctantly got up and went through your bag, finding some comfortable pajama pants and a tank top. After changing and brushing out your hair, you laid on your back on the bed. You wanted to be alone, but you wanted so badly to have Dean there holding you like he would when you typically felt like this. The fact that he hadn’t come, hurt a bit, but you told yourself he was just busy hanging out with those he hadn’t seen in a while. You’d been the one to storm off.

My life sucks.

The thought made you roll onto your side, pull one of the pillows out from under the covers, and cuddle up to it. Your mark burned again, but you ignored it, no matter how badly it stung. You didn’t want to deal with anything, feeling as overwhelmed as you did. There were far too many questions circling your mind and just as many emotions coursing through your body to let you focus on any one thing, let alone deal with any of them.

With a heavy sigh, you closed your eyes, exhausted in every sense of the word. Your body, mind, and soul needed rest. So, you let the heaviness in your eyes win, slowly closing them as your body relaxed into the mattress, letting sleep take you.

The sounds of hounds woke you sometime in the middle of the night or perhaps very early morning, pulling you from another nightmare. Your heart was pounding, and your breathing was ragged, but you forced yourself off the bed and to the window as the house seemed eerily quiet. The stillness outside on the grounds of Crowley’s property made you think the shadows were moving, watching you. A shiver ran down your body as you watched three large dogs dart across a section of lawn where a lamppost stood.

He’s here…

The thought scared you, and it was hard to breathe, as if something was pressing against your chest.

Dean…

Without thinking, you ran out of your room, needing to find him, more to reassure yourself that he was okay. Halfway down another hall, you stopped dead in your tracks as an image began forming in your mind. 

It was somewhere outside, on Crowley’s land, around his home. Four men in tactical gear were slowly making their way closer to the house, using the shadows to stay hidden. They almost reminded you of what a SWAT team looked like, guns and all. Now you saw dogs, big, black, fierce dogs, more than a dozen of them, moving in packs of three. They were hunting. They, too, were using the shadows to move, just as silently as the four men. Broken glass and a silent gunshot in one of the rooms of the house. The room was blurry, and hard to make out the details. Someone was sitting on the edge of the bed, and there was a dart on the person's neck, but you couldn’t make out enough details.

You shook your head a bit, pushing the images away. With the emotions swirling through your mind and body, you took a shaky breath, steadying your nerves. Something you had read online teased its way through your mind. 

Follow the thread.

For a moment, you closed your eyes, taking slow, deep breaths and letting them out just as slowly. You knew that in order to find it, you had to accept that Dean was your soul mate, which both terrified you and brought you a sense of peace. When you opened your eyes again, you turned to the direction you’d come from, feeling a strange pull.

The darkness in Crowley’s mansion wasn’t what brought the feelings of dread that seemed to seep into your nerves. It was the eerie silence, not even the dogs outside making a sound. The shadows seemed to dance or move of their own accord. You set your hand on the wall, letting it guide you through the darkness.

You tried to find that thread, but it eluded you. Some light came in through the large windows near the stairs that led down the main room. For a moment, you looked outside. The grounds were still, and that stillness felt out of place. A shiver ran down your spine as the hair on the back of your neck stood on end. It was like someone was watching you.

When you were able to pull your gaze from the window, you continued down the stairs, creeping quietly through the main entrance. Cautiously, you opened the dining area doors. You almost felt like a mouse thrown into a game of cat and mouse that you had no control over. Swallowing hard, you looked under the table. You let out a sigh of relief, having found nothing there. Finally managing a deep breath, you pushed yourself through the dining room and into the kitchen. 

The light wasn’t on, none of them were, and you hadn’t come across anyone, not even servants. For a moment, you thought you’d seen the flash of a light outside one of the kitchen windows. Slowly, you crept closer to it, cautiously glancing around. Your heart was pounding so loud you were sure it would give away your location. 

A shadow that moved in the darkness outside the window sent a wave of fear throughout your body. Slowly, your hand covered your mouth, and you began backing up just as slowly. Someone came up behind you when you reached the center of the kitchen, wrapping one arm around you and putting a hand over your mouth. Just as you were about to scream, he spoke.

“Shhh, it’s me, Sweetheart,” he whispered softly, slowly taking his hand from your mouth.

You swung around in his arms and wrapped yours over his shoulders. “I was so worried something had happened to you,” you whispered, keeping your voice down.

“I’m okay,” Dean quietly tried to reassure you, holding you close, while also keeping a watchful eye. “Come on, it’s not safe here.”

Dean quietly but quickly led you to what looked like a study. There were no windows here, but the entire staff, Crowley, and Benny were there. There were also a couple of other men, although you hadn’t met them before. Dean pulled you into his arms after he closed and locked the door, wanting to help calm your nerves.

“Good, you found her,” Crowley said, both relieved and pleased, but he wasn’t happy that Dean had gone looking for you.

Dean just shot him a glare but stayed quiet; his focus was only on you now. Benny stayed leaning against a nearby wall, his arms crossed, unhappy with the situation.

“What’s going on?” you finally asked in a whisper, not wanting to mention the images you’d seen from earlier.

“Nick isn’t one to follow the orders of anyone,” Crowley sighed. “It’s why I arranged to have the three of you brought here until the next court date. The FBI isn’t capable of keeping anyone safe from that family.” 

Slowly, you looked over at him but stayed in Dean’s arms. “You knew they’d come after me?” you asked, a little confused.

“Love, he’s not just after you. He needs leverage, to make you comply. Figured you would have realized that already.” Crowley stated as he shot Dean a knowing look, which you didn’t miss. “That whole family knows they only have so much time before you’re useless to them.”

That made your brow furrow in complete confusion. You pulled away from Dean, looking up at him, now needing answers. “What haven’t you told me?” you asked him bluntly, but also were terrified of the answer.

You saw the sadness flash across his eyes before he hid it, even if he couldn’t look at you. “If Cole marries you before your mark comes in, it won’t matter who your soulmate is, your mark will change to his name, because you’re an empath.” Dean finally confessed quietly.

The silence in the room was deafening, but your heart was pounding, and again, it felt like you could barely breathe. For several moments, all you could do was stand there in a state of shock. It was the final piece to the puzzle that made everything else make sense, and the thought of that terrified you. 

“How do I make my mark come in all the way?” you asked quietly, your voice shaky, and your nerves felt like they were all exposed and firing all at once.

Dean finally met your gaze, as it had never left him. There was pain and hurt in his eyes, but you also saw a hint of hope. You could see his hesitation like he wanted desperately to give you the answer, but something was holding him back.

“Bloody hell,” Crowley’s exasperated words broke the silence. “If you don’t tell her, I will.”

That made both you and Dean jump a little, but you never looked away from him, even when he shot Crowley another glare before looking at you again. He managed a deep breath, but it was shaky. Before he could open his mouth to say anything, the man who had been standing near Crowley, watching monitors, spoke up.

“The Hellhounds have done their job. I’ll inform the police and the FBI,” the man told Crowley, his British accent thick.

Crowley took an annoyed breath, “Thank you, Ketch. You may all return to your rooms. The situation has been handled.”

With a heavy heart, you went to the door first, unlocked it, and headed toward your room. The staff followed you out, Ketch bringing up the rear, but Dean and Benny stayed behind with Crowley. You rubbed the place where your mark was, your gaze on the floor as you slowly made your way back to your room.

Dean’s words seemed to play on repeat through your mind. At least now you understood why the powers that be had kept something like this under wraps. If it got out, there were far too many grim possibilities that could happen. What was bugging you was that Dean knew more; they all did, and you still hadn’t gotten all the answers you needed.

You closed your bedroom door but couldn’t relax, so you paced a few feet from the foot of the bed. Your mind swam with questions. After several minutes, you finally just plopped down on the foot of your bed, frustrated, when you felt a sharp stinging feeling on the side of your neck. Just as you reached for it and your vision went blurry, someone came into view as they stepped out of the closet, and then everything went black.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 16 - Coming soon

Story Master List Main Master List

Tag List: @deans-spinster-witch @jamerlynn @jackles010378 @bruhidkjustwannaread @onthehuntforshinies

@chriszgirl92 @angzls @xolivvies-cornerxo @certainsaladstarfish @onlyangel-444

@nancymcl @muhahaha303 @suckitands33 @kr804573 @justrandomthougt

@suckitands33 @mxtansy @scarletqueenx @krazykelly @roseblue373

@whimsyfinny @ladysparkles78 @aaathazagoraphobiaaa @hobby27 @perpetualabsurdity

@cicibunbuns @n-o-p-e-never @vanessa-boo @foxyjwls007 @uoberpmollah

@xolivvies-cornerxo @certainsaladstarfish @kdadss @bitchykittenconnoisseur @reignsboy19

@bonbonnie88 @ghostieghoul711 @flamencodiva @kayleezee @stillhere197

@lexasaurs634 @enamoredwithbella @winchester-whiskey @brandinicole911 @swaggyemily

@megs-gadom

If I missed tagging, please let me know. I had a lot of requests for tags for this one. If you'd like to be tagged, drop me a comment.

[cheerfulripley]

Happy Cas snd Destiel Day!

While I have a few Destiel fics, I really feel like my s4/s5 Canon rewrite Contingency is right for the occasion 🥳

Sadly it's set in July 2009 but it's 123k E with lots of Destiel's greatest hits. I think you'll like it :D

[masoena]

A Life All Our Own

A fic written for the HozierNatural Multi-Ship Bang by @hoziernaturalevents

I was paired with the talented @i-already-know-im-going-2-hell for this bang and it's been a fabulous collaboration. Thank you for the gorgeous set of banner and in-story art.

Hozier Song: To Noise Making (Sing)

Author: Masoena

Beta: Dean4Me

Artist: i-already-know-im-going-2-hell

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 15,417

Pairing: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Arthur Ketch, Lady Toni Bevell, Crowley, Castiel, Mick Davies, Amara (Supernatural), Chuck, Rowena MacLeod

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Additional Tags: Roadtrip, Music Festivals, Self-Discovery, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Dean was a human explosive, that much he remembers, and then he simply wasn't after Chuck removed all those souls from his chest in the prettiest of manicured gardens, when he and Amara decided to not kill each other. However, Dean was not fine, was not keeping it together but he felt like the bomb had gone off, his very being breaking at the seams with all the stress, weight of the world and every other piece of responsibility that he had been shouldering all his life. This is the story where Dean breaks down but reaching rock-bottom is the beginning of a wonderful journey that takes the Winchester brothers to finding a life of their own and ultimately to finding what Amara promised Dean canonically; the thing he needed most in life which is decidedly not Mama Winchester. 

Link to Fic | Link to Art AO3 | Tumblr

[wildwestdean]

impetus

summary: dean gets targeted by a witch while working a case, and she curses him to yearn for what he secretly loves the most. it seems to have no effect, until it's pointed out that he can't seem to stay away from you - but what happens when he tries to fight it?

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

word count: 9.4k+

warnings: violence, hunting/working a case, mentions of murders, gore, evil witches, reader and dean get attacked, swearing, alcohol consumption, angst, fluff, yearning, mutual pining, idiots oblivious to their own feelings, magical curses, hallucinations, nightmares, depictions of death, depictions of drowning, fighting/arguments, heart-to-heart, confessions, use of [y/n], nicknames, mature themes

“Right, well, this isn’t creepy at all,” Dean declared, rolling Baby to a stop before switching into park. 

You both sat quietly as you surveyed the desolate building, a feeling of unease washing over you. 

“Maybe we should wait for Sam,” you suggested half heartedly. He was only down at the Sheriff’s station, and it wouldn’t even take ten minutes for him to meet you here, but you knew Dean wouldn’t wait. 

“No,” he said, confirming what you already knew. “Someone else is missing and this is our best lead so far. If you don’t want to go in, that's fine, but I am.” 

“I’m not letting you go in there alone,” you snapped, sitting up as tall as you could despite the pit forming in your stomach. 

“Awe, you worried about me, sweetheart?” Dean teased, turning to look at you with a grin; one that was effectively wiped from his face when he saw the look in your eyes. “Hey, what is it?” 

“I don’t know,” you said honestly, shrugging lightly. “I just have a bad feeling about this.” 

“Bad feeling like what?” he questioned, his brows knitting together. 

You thought about it, trying to pinpoint what it was you felt, but you couldn’t. “Just…. don’t go wandering off,” you ended up saying- begging, more like. 

“Alright,” he agreed easily. “We stick together, and we’ll be in and out before you know it.” 

“Right,” you confirmed with a nod. “Let’s gear up.��� 

You exited the car as quietly as you could, making your way around to the back as Dean unlocked the trunk and propped up the panel to the arsenal.

“You and Sam better be right about this,” he muttered, digging out the box of witch-killing bullets. 

Your mind raced through the details of the case: An exsanguinated priest, a dead nun with her tongue ripped out, the president of the high schools abstinence club found without a heart, and various livestock missing various body parts - if this wasn’t a witch, you were a little scared to find out what else it could be. 

“We have to be,” you breathed out, loading your ammo. 

“Can you do me a favour and sound at least a little confident?” he asked playfully, lightly nudging your arm with his own before tucking his gun into his jeans. 

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, holstering your own gun. 

“It’s alright,” he said earnestly, handing you your favourite knife (one that used to be his before you claimed it as your own). “I’m just not used to seeing you so spooked.” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle quietly as you took the knife from him. “I’m not used to feeling spooked.” 

“We’ll make it through,” he consoled, closing up the trunk. “Just like we always do.” 

“Just like we always do,” you echoed with a nod, following him towards the building. 

The overgrowth brushed your calves as you made your way up the walk, and after a quick survey of the facade, Dean swung the door open after picking the lock. 

“Wait!” you hissed, stopping him before he entered. “Sam does know we’re here, right?” 

You watched as his shoulders shrugged before stepping inside. “Probably.” 

“That’s… comforting,” you sighed, following him across the threshold. 

The two of you did a quick preliminary sweep of the main level before making your way to the top floor, finding nothing of significance in any of the rooms. Making your way back down, you both stopped dead in your tracks as you heard a clatter come from beneath you. 

“Of course there’s a basement,” Dean whispered. “Why wouldn’t the creepy ass witch be in the creepy ass basement of this creepy ass house?” 

“How do you know she’s a creepy ass witch?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him. “Maybe she’s hot. Or a guy. Or both.” 

He faltered over his response, considering your words for a moment. “I’ll bet whatever tab you drink up at the bar once we end up ganking this bitch. She’s creepy.” 

“Deal,” you grinned, wiggling your eyebrows at him. 

You both chuckled, before another noise from the basement drew your attention back to the case at hand. Dean awkwardly cleared his throat before leading the way in search of the basement entrance, using the occasional noise as guidance. 

“God, I hate witches,” he muttered to himself, slapping away cobwebs as he descended the stairs. 

“I don’t think the witch put those webs there,” you said with a snicker. 

“No, they’re just the one turning this rotting corpse of a house into a lair of evil and despair,” he hissed. 

You rolled your eyes in response, unable to stop the fond smile from creeping onto your face as you made it to the bottom of the stairs. 

A muffled cry caught your attention, and Dean spared you a quick look before running in the direction it came from, you hot on his heels. Coming up on a corner, he slowed to a halt and peered around the wall. 

“It looks clear,” he decided after a moment. “Just be careful,” he added, continuing on his way. 

Upon turning the corner, you were enveloped in the warm glow of candles, which would have been nice, had it not been for the rest of the scene. An altar lay at the far wall, burning candelabras stood in each corner of the room, and the very person you were searching for was bound and gagged in a chair in the middle of the room, surrounded by a circle of candles. 

Dean cursed and muttered under his breath, surveying the room. “I’ll get him, you get the altar.“

“Okay,” you agreed, running across the room. Once you reached the altar, you couldn’t help but stare in shock and disgust for a moment as you took in the sight; all the missing body parts seemingly staring back at you from where they lay soaked in blood. It took Dean shouting your name from across the room to bring you back to your senses, and you quickly upturned the altar as Dean instructed the now freed man to get out as fast as possible and wait by the car. As soon as the contents of the altar were scattered, an ear piercing shriek came from behind you. 

Quickly whirling on your heels, you were greeted by a cloaked figure, who seemingly came out of nowhere. 

“What have you done?” she screamed, dropping her hood as she stared daggers into you. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you feigned innocence. “Did I ruin your big plan?”

“You ruined everything!” she shrieked, slowly approaching you. “You’ll pay for this!” 

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Dean called out from behind her. 

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?! How many centuries passed by until the circumstances were right? I had it! I had it all! I was one spell away from seeing my love again!” she continued to scream, advancing further towards you as she ignored Dean.

“Back off, Grunhilda!” Dean roared from behind her, drawing his gun. 

“No!” she shrieked, barely lifting her hand in order to easily swing his gun away - and stop you from drawing your own. “You stupid little gnat. You think you can just come in here and mess with things you don’t understand? You think you can take this from me?!” 

Her shouting was drowned out by the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears, your entire body feeling like it was on fire as your throat constricted, the air leaving your lungs and not returning. You felt your bones cracking beneath your skin as your feet left the floor, and you shared a look of terror with Dean before black began to cloud the edges of your vision. 

Without an effective weapon handy, Dean rushed the witch and tackled her to the floor, sending you crashing down. You met the concrete with a thud, and it knocked the rest of your senses out of you. You laid there for who knows how long, fighting off the waves of pain and nausea, willing yourself to move as you listened to the struggle happening a few feet away from you. 

By the time you managed to prop yourself up, Dean was pinned down as she advanced on him, and you desperately looked around for either of your guns. 

“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” you heard her ask, menace laced deep in her words. “To want something so desperately, to feel that desire within your very soul?!” 

Dean struggled against her hold as you struggled to pick yourself up, to at least crawl to a weapon if you had to.

“Well you will,” she sneered, cackling to herself. “You’ll know how it feels. To have what you want the very most to be so close to you, to have it at the edge of your fingertips, only to never be able to grasp it! For it to be the only thing you can think about!”

“Shut the hell up,” Dean seethed through clenched teeth, glaring at her. 

She only stepped closer towards him, cackling to herself. “Your strongest yearning, hidden deep in your heart, will nevermore be yours to part. Be it with sun or with rain, that which brings joy won’t be without pain.” 

“You finished yet?” Dean interrupted, before he had the wind knocked out of him, rendering him silent. 

Moving as quickly as you could without being noticed, you closed in on Dean’s pistol while the witch carried on. 

“Whatever you crave you cannot say, yet you’ll seek it out be it night or day,” she continued, hovering over him. “Consider yourself lucky, you useless toad. I’ve had countless lifetimes yearning to see my love again, and I’ll spend lifetimes more. At least you only have this one measly little life to yearn for what you want.” 

Grasping the gun in your hands, you carefully rose to your feet and steadied yourself to take aim. “Man, you really do talk too much,” you huffed out.

The shot rang out just as she turned towards you, though it was silenced by a roaring wind that accompanied a bright blue light. Within seconds, everything was calm and quiet again.

Fighting every urge you had to collapse back onto the floor, you trudged your way over to Dean in an attempt to help him up. 

“God, I told you she’d be creepy,” he gasped out, groaning as he stood. 

“You want a prize?” you asked incredulously, staring up at him. 

“I wanna get the hell out of here,” he said, ushering you to take leave. “Then I want those drinks you owe me.” 

After what felt like another entire day, you and Dean had dropped the victim off at the hospital, patched each other up, cleaned out the basement, showered, and filled Sam in on everything that went down. 

“So… she cursed you?” Sam asked curiously, trying to understand. 

“I dunno. She tried to, I guess,” Dean replied nonchalantly. “But [Y/N/N] put a bullet in her. No witch, no curse, right?” 

Sam shared a brief look with you, before turning back to Dean. “Yeah, but… there was no body.” 

“What?” Dean asked gruffly. 

“The witch,” you said. “I shot, but she vanished. What if she isn’t dead?” 

“Well, I feel normal, so I’m gonna say she’s dead,” Dean declared with a shrug. “Now, can we head to the bar? I’m in desperate need of a drink… or twelve.” 

Without waiting for an answer, he quickly stood and donned his jacket before looking back at you and Sam. “You guys coming or what?” 

“Oh, do I have a choice to not go?” you asked playfully.

“You can stay if you want, but your wallet comes with me,” he replied, smiling innocently. 

“Alright, let’s go,” you said with a dramatic sigh, grabbing your own jacket. 

Not long after, the three of you were sliding into a booth in the nearest dive, enjoying the lack of people; you guys seriously needed to decompress. 

“Alright, I’ll be back,” you declared, hopping out of the booth to get the first round of drinks. 

“Make sure you get a tab started!” Dean jokingly called after you. 

You flipped him off in response, taking a seat at the bar after placing your order. While you waited, Sam watched as Dean grew more restless in his seat. 

“Dude, what the hell is your problem?” he finally asked, eyeing Dean as he fidgeted anxiously. 

“What?” Dean asked cluelessly, glancing around the bar. “I’m thirsty. She’s been gone for what, like, half an hour?” 

“It’s… barely been two minutes, Dean,” Sam informed him with an amused grin.  

“Yeah, well. I want my beer,” Dean mumbled, tapping his fingers on the table as he glanced around once more. “I’m gonna go see if she needs help.”

Before Sam could even reply, Dean was already halfway across the bar, meeting you just as you got your final drink. 

“Need a hand?” Dean asked cheerfully, his sudden appearance making you jump. “Sorry,” he added with a snicker. 

“Dick,” you muttered with a laugh, hopping down from the stool. “Here you go,” you added, handing him his beer.

“Awesome,” he beamed, taking the bottle from your outstretched hand. 

He followed closely as you made your way back to the table, handing Sam his drink before sliding into the booth; Dean followed suit, leaving you nestled in between him and the wall. 

The three of you had a few more rounds before Dean slipped away, determined to teach a lesson to the arrogant ass harassing players around the pool tables - just because you didn’t need to hustle people anymore didn’t mean it wasn’t still fun every now and then. You watched him fondly, laughing quietly to yourself as you watched him fumble around with his cue before making a terrible break. Harder than it looks, you could just hear him say. 

Your attention was turned back to Sam when he cleared his throat, and you were met with his questioning gaze. “Does he seem weird to you?” 

“Weird how?” you asked, face scrunched in confusion. 

“I don’t know, strange,” he replied with a small shrug. “Like- like antsy or something.” 

Your eyes flit back across the room to Dean, who was very much in his element as he upped his ante, before focusing on Sam again. “I haven’t noticed anything, Sammy.” 

He sighed in resignation, seeming to already know that would be your response. “It’s probably nothing, just forget I said anything,” he replied, shaking his head dismissively before finishing his drink. 

“If you say so,” you muttered quietly, sipping your drink as you cast a worried gaze across the bar, getting lost in thought.

By the time you each finished another round of drinks, Dean made his way back over to the table; much to the surprise of you and Sam. 

“Done so soon?” Sam questioned, raising an eyebrow at his brother. 

“Yeah,” Dean shrugged, sliding back into the seat beside you.

“But you only played one round,” you said quizzically. 

“So?” Dean wondered, gulping down the rest of his beer. 

“So, you usually play a lot more than that,” Sam pitched in, shifting his gaze between you and Dean. 

Dean sighed, his bottle clanging on the table as he set it back down. “Why am I getting the third degree here? I played a game, he learned his lesson, I got over it. End of story.”

“Okay, grouchy,” you snickered, ruffling his hair a little just because you knew he hated it. Except he really did love it when it was you doing it.

“Whatever, anyone want another round?” he asked with a huff, lightly swatting your hand away. 

“No, I’m gonna call it a night,” you admitted, shifting to slip your jacket back on. 

“Yeah, me too,” Sam declared, starting to stand from the table. 

Dean stood as well, assumingly just to let you out. “Alright, let’s go.”

You and Sam both stilled in your movements at his response, sharing a shocked look with each other. “You’re… coming with us?” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked with a scoff, shrugging his jacket on as he looked questioningly between you and Sam. “Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you guys?”

“We just didn’t expect you to call it a night so early,” Sam explained helplessly. “Gettin’ old, huh?” he added, trying to lighten the mood a little. 

“Yeah, I mean, you barely even wracked up a tab!” you declared with a laugh, before grinning mischievously. “Drinks just don’t agree with you anymore, do they, old man?”

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes, fixing his collar just to busy his hands. “Okay, alright, one more wisecrack and I’m leaving you both here.” 

Despite the finality in his tone, the amusement dancing in his eyes gave him away - as did the hand he extended to you to help you slide from the booth. 

“Whatever you say, grandpa,” Sam teased, patting Dean on the shoulder before walking away with laughter in his wake. “I’ll be outside!”

You chuckled in response, and the stern look Dean gave you only made you laugh even more. “Yeah, yeah. Hurry it up, chuckles,” he chided, wiggling his fingers at you. He surveyed the bar as you finally took hold of his hand, sliding out from your seat with ease and standing before him. “Ready?” he asked, gaze turning back to look down at you. 

“Yeah, I just gotta go pay,” you replied, nodding your head in the direction of the bar counter. 

“Alright,” he said with a nod. He gave your hand a squeeze, though instead of letting go like he normally would, he held it firmly as he led the way across the bar. 

You followed along quietly, trying your hardest to not read too much into it. Though when you stood before the bar and he had yet to release your hand, you gave him a puzzled look. “Did you wanna go get the car?” you asked hesitantly. 

He looked confused for a moment, as if he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on either, before he cleared his throat with a curt nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll meet you out there. Don’t take too long,” he rushed, giving your hand another fleeting squeeze before shuffling away. 

Strange, you thought briefly, before shifting your attention to the bartender before you. 

As you paid the tab, Dean settled into the driver's seat of Baby, and Sam watched him impatiently drum his fingers against the wheel as he hummed along to whatever song was in his head; and he couldn’t help but snort a laugh as Dean checked his watch one, two, three times since getting into the car. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Sam chided with a laugh, shaking his head. 

“What?” Dean inquired, annoyance clear in his voice. 

“Dude, please tell me you see what’s going on,” Sam pleaded. 

Dean widened his eyes in confusion, glancing around the near empty parking lot before looking back at his brother. “What’s going on?” 

Before Sam could reply, their attention was caught by the opening of the bar’s door when you emerged from the building, a grin forming on your face as you caught sight of them waiting in the car. 

Dean matched your grin, quickly reaching for the door handle and scrambling outside. “There she is!” he greeted happily, opening the back door for you. 

“Fucking idiot,” Sam muttered to himself, staring out the window with an amused grin as you and Dean settled into your seats. 

The three of you made it back in no time, and, having to settle for a single bed when first getting to town over driving for another who-knows-how-long just to find another motel, shuffled out of the car and into your shared room with heavy feet.

“Finally,” Dean muttered with relief, shutting the door behind him as Sam took a seat. “Whoa, whoa,” Dean barked, holding up a hand. “What’re you doing?” 

Sam froze just as he sat on the bed, staring up at his brother. “What?” 

“That’s my bed,” Dean declared with a huff. 

“No, it’s not,” Sam answered with a scoff. “It’s your turn for the couch.” 

“Dude, I’m not sleeping on the pull-out!” Dean declared with finality.

“What, are you kidding me?” Sam asked incredulously. “You got the bed last time!” 

“Yeah, and I just got ragdolled by a crazy ass witch, I deserve a mattress!” Dean argued, stepping towards the bed. “Get up.” 

“No,” Sam argued stubbornly, relaxing further atop the sheets. 

“You guys are ridiculous,” you said with an exasperated sigh, walking across the room. “I’ll take the couch.” 

“Not a chance,” Dean denied, not even sparing you a glance. 

“What, why?” you asked in confusion. 

“First of all, I’m not sharing with Sam,” Dean replied, turning to look at you. “Second, you got it worse than I did. I’m not shoving you on a pull-out.” 

“Oh, please-” you started to argue, before he cut you off. 

“I patched you up myself, [Y/N]. Don’t bother trying to lie to me,” he cautioned. 

You opened your mouth to argue once more, but the look on his face stopped you short. “Whatever,” you mumbled, turning towards the bathroom. “I’m getting ready for bed. Figure this out before I get back so I can actually go to bed, please.” 

The bickering resumed as you quickly retreated, shutting the bathroom door on Dean’s disgruntled declaration of “best two out of three.”

By the time you re-entered the room, you were met with silence. Surveying the surroundings, you found Sam digging through his toiletries bag while sitting in his original spot on the bed. Your gaze snapped over to the couch, where Dean sat looking like a kicked puppy. 

“You went with scissors again, didn’t you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him. 

He met your gaze as Sam snickered behind you, causing his face to sour even more. “Shut up,” he mumbled before standing, bristling past you with slumped shoulders. 

You chuckled quietly to yourself and grabbed the spare sheets, quickly making up the pull-out for Dean while he got ready; hopefully he’d be a little less cranky about it all if this was at least already done. 

Once finished, you made your way over to the bed and curled up under the covers. After saying a quick goodnight to Sam, you were asleep before Dean even left the bathroom. 

Fear gnawed at Dean, his body frozen in place as a cold spread through him, panic clinging to him like ice. He tried to call out to you, but all that left him was a strangled breath as his lungs seized up. He watched as the waves carried you away, further and further from where he stood. By the time his legs finally moved to carry him closer to shore, his feet were so heavy it was as though he was wading through quicksand. 

“No, no, no,” he pleaded quietly, watching as the waters edge never grew near no matter how far he ran. 

Your voice cried out to him, surging him forward even faster as you drifted ever outwards, terror seeping deeper into his bones with every futile step he took.

He couldn’t reach you. 

He couldn’t save you. 

The realisation that you were gone caused his world to come crashing down around him as he fell to his knees. A roaring filled his ears, and he didn’t know whether it was the irascible water that held you captive or the blood racing from his pounding heart. 

As he stayed there - watching the crashing waves for any sign of you, listening for a call of his name, unwilling to move for fear he’d miss you - the water suddenly crept up around him, as if to mock him. 

The sky darkened as he let out an anguished cry, his voice blending in with the storm beginning to brew around him. Yet despite the deafening howls, he heard it clear as day: your voice, calling out to him.  

“Dean.”

The world stilled around him once more, your voice ringing out in a whisper as gentle as the wind. 

“Dean.” 

He stood, frantically searching the horizon for you. He tried to call out, yet his voice still never came. 

“Dean!” you called out, voice booming like thunder from above. 

A small hand gripped his own, pulling him so forcefully he was yanked off his feet. He let out a startled cry, a spark of lightning igniting so brightly before him that he screwed his eyes shut. 

“God dammit, Dean!” 

Another force shook him, and when we reopened his eyes, he was met with the suspiciously stained ceiling of the motel room. He bolted upright, heart hammering against his chest as he looked around. He caught your worried gaze as he wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to steady his breathing as you leaned in closer. 

“[Y/N?]” he gasped out, pushing himself further upright.

His hand reached out automatically, fingers tentatively brushing against your cheek as if to evaluate your solidity. When he was satisfied that you wouldn’t evaporate, he surged forward to wrap you in a desperate embrace; the icy grip of terror finally starting to melt. 

“It was just a nightmare, De,” you soothed quietly, tracing a hand along his back. “Everything’s alright.”

“Yeah,” he said tightly, swallowing the lump forming in his throat as he let you go. “Yeah, it’s fine. I’m alright, get back to bed.” 

“You’re okay?” you questioned, concern laced in both your face and tone of voice. 

“I’m okay,” he affirmed with a nod, casting his gaze aside so you wouldn’t see the panic still swirling within him. 

“Okay,” you said softly, placing a gentle kiss upon the crown of his head before standing from the edge of the pull-out. 

Dean got up after you to grab a glass of water, his heart jumping in his chest as he remembered the sight of you being ripped away by the current. 

“Just a nightmare,” he reminded himself under his breath. “Just a nightmare.” 

Not having slept another wink after his nightmare, Dean was unsurprisingly the first one up the next morning. Taking it upon himself to get breakfast for the three of you, he found himself at the nearest diner waiting for his order. 

Drumming his fingers impatiently on the sticky linoleum counter, a burning desire to call you began to build within him. Knowing you were likely still sleeping, he decided to busy himself with a stupid game you downloaded on his phone. 

Yet the urge to reach out to you grew tenfold as he sat there, a sinking feeling that it might mean you were in danger starting to take hold of him. Just as his mind began to swirl with questions of what the hell was going on with him, he heard your voice calling his name. 

His head snapped up, expecting to see you sliding onto the stool beside him, ready to give you hell for walking here in search of him all by yourself in a random town. He figured you must’ve known he was here, and it wouldn’t have been a far walk from the motel, but it was still stupid.

Though the words died on his tongue as he realized you weren’t there, and that familiar feeling of dread trickled through him after scanning the diner and not finding you anywhere. 

Another voice called out, this time the waitress, announcing that his order was ready. He met her smiling face with nothing but confusion, her smile faltering for a moment.

“Everything alright?” she asked hesitantly.

“Huh?” he asked, before snapping out of his daze. “Oh, yeah. Just a little too early for me. Thanks-” he paused, squinting to read her name tag. “Thanks, Edna,” he charmed, flashing his signature grin as he gathered the order. 

“Anytime, sugar,” she charmed, her smile perking back up as she sent him a wink. 

With one last - albeit awkward - grin sent her way, Dean quickly left the diner; already feeling lighter for knowing he’d be back at the motel soon. His grin only grew when he glanced across the street and caught a glimpse of you staring back at him, proving that he wasn’t crazy and you really did come to meet him. 

He took a step forward, intending to call out to you, when a truck drove by and blocked you from sight. The grin was wiped from his face and the coffee tray nearly slipped out of his hand when he noticed you had completely disappeared in its wake. 

Fearing the worst once more, he scrambled into the car and quickly called you, firing Baby to life as the line rang. 

“Hey,” you answered with a stifled yawn. “Please tell me you’re getting breakfast. And coffee.” 

“Yeah, I-” he faltered in his response, having to let out a breath of relief as he realized you were safe and sound. “I’ll be back in a few, you and Sammy still there?” 

“Where else would we be?” you asked with a giggle. 

While the sound would normally bring a smile to his face, your words only caused a frown to appear. “You only waking up now?” 

“Don’t judge me,” you teased. “It’s only… ten after seven, I barely slept in.” 

“Just not used to being up before you,” he lied, knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel. 

“Miracles really do happen,” you joked with a laugh. “You sound weird, is everything okay?” you added, worry tinting your voice. 

“Hm?” he wondered, not processing your question right away. “Oh, no- yeah, I-... just didn’t get much sleep.”

“Right,” you said, teetering on the edge of believing him or not. 

“Really, I’m good,” he assured, sensing your apprehension. “I just gotta catch some z’s and I’ll be good as new.” 

“Okay. I’ll see you in a few then,” you relented. “Drive safe,” you added as an afterthought before hanging up.   

The line went dead as he stopped at a red light, his stomach churning as he stared at his reflection in the rearview.

“Just need some sleep,” he assured himself. 

“Dude, would you quit it with the pacing?” Sam snapped, setting his book down on the table for sheer lack of concentration. 

Dean stopped just long enough to stare daggers at his brother before marching down the library once more. “She’s been gone too long.” 

“She’s been gone an hour,” Sam informed, hands running over his face in exasperation. 

“Exactly,” Dean replied, pointing a finger at Sam in acknowledgment. “Something must’ve happened.” 

“Dude, she’s at the grocery store. With Jack. What the hell could possibly happen?” 

“I don’t know!” Dean exclaimed, arms flailing as he whirled to face Sam. “Something must’ve! She hasn’t answered my last text and it’s been-” he paused, pulling out his phone to brandish the screen. “Seven minutes!” 

“Oh, my god,” Sam groaned, tossing his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I can’t deal with this anymore.” 

“What are you talking about? Aren’t you worried?” Dean asked gruffly. 

“No, Dean, I’m not worried! There’s no reason to be worried!” Sam proclaimed. 

“No reason? She could be dead!” Dean barked, his face taking on an expression of disbelief. 

Sam sighed as he leaned over the table, raising his eyebrows. “Okay, let me ask you this: why, exactly, do you think she’s dead?” 

“Oh, come on, Sam!” Dean grumbled. “We don’t exactly live cookie cutter lives here, you know. One minute she’s returning the shopping cart, and the next she’s got a damn knife in her back!” 

“Dean,” Sam soothed. “You know as well as I do that’s a load of crap.” 

“No,” Dean argued, shaking his head. “We don’t know that. We don’t know anything, you know why?” 

Before Sam could even respond, Dean waved his phone around before dropping it on the table. “Because she won’t answer her damn phone!” 

“Okay, this is actually ridiculous,” Sam declared. “How can you seriously not see what’s been happening to you?” 

“Knock it off, Sam,” Dean muttered, waving a hand dismissively as he began pacing again. “I’m fucking fine.” 

“You’re fine,” Sam repeated incredulously. “You’re friggin’ cursed, Dean!” 

“I’m not cursed!” shouted Dean. “Would you quit it with that crap?” 

“Right, because nothing’s been going on with you lately, right?” 

“Right!” Dean agreed with a huff. 

“You haven’t been, say, I don’t know…. not sleeping? Feeling stir crazy? Getting paranoid?”

“Sam-” 

“No, I’m serious, Dean! How can you not see this?” 

“Because I’m fine!” Dean argued, stalling his movements to gather his phone from the table.

After a few moments of silence, Dean rolled his eyes and found himself once more walking the length of the library. “Okay, maybe I’ve been feeling a little weird lately, but I’ve just been tired - and you know what? I survived worse. So yeah, I’m fine!” 

“Right,” Sam said sceptically.  “And have you… noticed when it is that you feel… weird?”

“I don’t know!” Dean announced frustratedly.

“Dean,” Sam chastised. 

“What?” 

“You’ve been feeling like this all week, and it’s only getting worse. You’ve been like this since that witch cursed you - and don’t say she didn’t. Use your fucking head, Dean! You’re cursed!” 

Dean’s jaw clenched as he tried to remain calm, taking a moment to formulate his response. “You’re insane,” he finally declared. 

“I think you’re the insane one,” Sam contested. “You were cursed to yearn for something, Dean. Only in this case… it’s someone.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

“C’mon, Dean!” Sam pleaded with a laugh. “The only time you get like this is when you’re more than ten feet away from [Y/N].” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean muttered dismissively. 

“You’ve checked your phone another five times since you picked it up.” 

“So?” Dean questioned, failing to resist the urge to check it once more. “I’m worried, not cursed.” 

“You’re worried because you’re cursed!” Sam argued. 

“I’m worried because I lo-” Dean quickly fell silent as the words died on his tongue, his brain firing into total overdrive as he laughed nervously. “I care, that’s why I’m worried.” 

Sam stared at his brother in total disbelief, trying to find a way to make him realize what was going on- or, most likely, acknowledge what was going on. 

Yet before the conversation could go any further, the bunker door screeched open and the sound of your laughter fleeted down to greet Dean, effectively turning his scowl into an affectionate grin. 

“Hope you remembered my pie!” he called out, marching to meet you at the foot of the stairs without so much as a glance back in Sam’s direction. 

“When have I ever forgotten?” you asked, feigning offence as you held out the bag which contained his pie.

“Well,” he started, taking the bag from you. “There was that time in Redford-”

“Hey!” you interrupted with a laugh. “I didn’t forget, they were out!”

“See, I still don’t believe you,” he teased, heading for the kitchen. 

“Believe whatever you want, Dean,” you replied playfully. 

“I’m still waiting for it, you know. You should get me two next time,” he joked, though he was partly serious. 

“Dean?” Sam’s voice tentatively called out.

“Yeah?” Dean replied hotly, keeping his back to Sam as he went to grab a beer from the fridge. 

“Who, uh… who the hell are you talking to?” he asked carefully, surveying the empty kitchen. 

“Hilarious, Sam,” he said dryly, shutting the fridge. “I’m talking to-”

His mouth ran dry as he turned around, being met with just his brother, who was staring with concern from the doorway. 

“[Y/N],” Dean finished weakly. 

“Her and Jack aren’t back yet, Dean,” Sam said carefully, as though talking to a lost child. 

“Yes, they are. They got back, she gave me my pie, we came in here,” Dean said fiercely, his confidence shattering when he went to gesture at the pie he set down moments earlier and found it to be gone.  

“Maybe you should sit down,” Sam suggested, not knowing what to do. 

“I’m fine!” Dean shouted, hovering over the counter. “I’m fine,” he repeated, moreso to himself than anything. 

“Okay, look, how about I try calling [Y/N], okay?” Sam offered, hesitantly walking further into the kitchen. “See when they’ll be back.” 

“They are back!” Dean barked, glaring at Sam. “She was just in here!” 

Sam didn’t know what to say, the fear and concern for his brother crashing down on him. 

“She was just in here,” Dean repeated shakily, meeting Sam’s gaze with confusion. 

“Dean,” Sam started to say, before the familiar tone of your ringtone came from Dean’s phone, cutting through the air like a knife. 

Dean pulled the phone from his pocket, clearing his throat before answering. “Yeah?” 

“Dean, thank god,” you cheered, sighing in relief. “Listen, we came out to a flat tire and I don’t have a spare because I forgot to fucking replace it and there are too many people around for Jack to, you know, try fixing it,” you rambled anxiously. “Can you please come help?” 

“You’re still at the store?” Dean clarified, looking up at Sam with frightened eyes. 

“Yeah, we’re stuck in the parking lot,” you told him breezily. 

“Okay,” he said, swallowing thickly. “Alright, I’ll be right there.” 

“Thanks, De!” you said happily, ending the call. 

Dean stood there for a few moments staring down at his unopened bottle of beer on the counter, trying to gather his thoughts, before finally lifting his gaze to Sam.

“I’ll, uh…. I’ll be back,” he told him, not waiting for a response before trudging out of the kitchen.

You found yourself yet again rushing down the hall to Dean’s room, his muffled yells waking you in the dead of night once more. 

He uttered your name as you shut the door behind you, and though it took you by surprise the very first time it happened - nearly two weeks ago, now - it was something you’ve almost come to expect. It was killing you, watching him go through this every night and not being able to fix it. You would sit with him, find ways to gently rouse him from his terror filled slumber and comfort him when he woke, but it never seemed like enough; he deserved more.

At first you didn’t think there was too much going on, figuring his shift in behaviour was just due to his lack of sleep. You didn’t believe Sam when he talked to you about it; Dean may have been acting a little more strange than usual, but it didn’t raise any red flags.

It wasn’t until the morning following your conversation that you noticed it, cluing in and realising how different Dean had been; how long he’d been different. The excess text messages, the increase in phone calls, the insistence on you not going anywhere without him and his exuberant reactions to you getting back safe when you did go somewhere without him, his constant questioning on where you were or where you’ve just been. Something else was going on, and you could only think it really did come down to the witch you two encountered.  So you and Sam called up Rowena, getting her take on the situation and figuring out what to do. 

Her words now echoed through your head as you perched yourself on the edge of his bed: “Magic isn’t simple. Some curses are anchored by the witch, ending whenever they were to die. But others are more complex, rooted not in the witch but the object of the curse itself, not breaking until their purpose is carried out one way or another. Perhaps if you can figure out what it is Dean needs, you can break the curse yourselves. If this carries on for any longer… I’m worried it will kill him.” 

While you ran your fingers through his hair, you decided right then and there that once he woke up, you wouldn’t leave without confronting him about it. You knew it would likely start a fight, and you felt a little guilty knowing you would all but interrogate him right after having another nightmare, but all that guilt flew right out the window the second Dean startled himself awake, the sight of his panic stricken face as he gasped for air nearly bringing you to tears; you’ve seen him like this too often as of late. 

“It’s alright, Dean,” you soothed, reaching out to him. “I’m right here, everything’s fine.” 

His gaze snapped to you, unable to hide the confusion and terror still coursing through him despite the relief he felt. “[Y/N]?” 

“Yeah, De,” you cooed, running a hand across his shoulder blades. “We’re in your room, everyone’s okay.” 

He let out a shuddering breath, hanging his head in his hands. “You’re okay,” he whispered softly. “You’re okay.” 

You sat quietly with him for a few more minutes, patiently comforting him as best as you could while you thought of how to approach this conversation. 

Clearing his throat, Dean was the first to speak again as he rose from the bed. “Sorry I woke you again.” 

The dejection and shame laced in his voice tore your heart to bits, and you had to put up a good fight to keep your emotions in check. “You don’t need to apologize.” 

“Yeah, I do,” he disagreed, trudging to his sink in the corner. 

“Dean, please talk to me,” you pleaded, watching as he turned on the water. 

You fell silent, waiting for him to deny you and brush you off again. You waited for him to say something, to do something, but all he did was stare at the running water. 

“Dean?” you asked cautiously, slowly getting up from the bed yourself. 

“I can’t save you,” he muttered quietly, his gaze on the faucet unyielding. 

“What?” you asked curiously, not knowing what he meant. 

“I can never save you,” he carried on. “You always just… slip away from me. Every time. It’s always the same.” 

“What’s always the same?” you questioned, moving closer towards him. 

“I try,” he muttered, seemingly oblivious to your presence. “I run, and I fight, and I try, but I can never reach you. I can never get to you.”

He seemed to snap out of his daze a little, moving to splash water over his face before turning off the tap. “You keep dying. I keep watching you die. I can’t watch you die again, [Y/N]. I can’t.” 

“This is what your nightmares have been?” you wondered. 

He fell silent again for a minute before meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Yeah.” 

“It’s not real, Dean,” you told him softly.

“It’s real enough for me,” he muttered, turning to face you. 

“And is this why you’ve been… acting differently towards me?” you asked hesitantly. 

He averted his gaze, hanging his head as he considered your question. “I guess,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe, yeah. I don’t know.” 

“Dean,” you scolded with a sigh, plopping back down on the bed. “Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on?” 

“Because everything’s fine!” he argued once again. 

“I’m not stupid, Dean!” you challenged. “I know you. I can see something's eating you alive and it’s fucking killing me to witness it. So please, tell me what the hell is going on.” 

“It’s just nightmares,” he lied, crossing his arms against his chest. 

“It’s more than nightmares!” you cried. “You’re withering away into nothing, Dean! I mean let’s face it! You’re practically a zombie nowadays with how little sleep you get, you’ve been acting like a puppy with separation anxiety, and let’s not forget how completely erratic you’ve been.”

He glared at you, jaw clenching as he decided whether or not to entertain this conversation. “Okay, so maybe I haven’t slept lately,” he admitted starkly. “But like I keep saying, I’m fine.” 

“Don’t you ever get tired of lying?” you sneered, glaring up at him. 

He rolled his eyes, averting his gaze to anywhere else as he shook his head. “No, but I’m getting tired of having this conversation all the time.” 

“Well too bad!” you yelled, abruptly standing from the bed. “Cause I’m tired of never having this conversation go anywhere! I’m tired of you brushing off the idea of you being cursed. I didn’t believe it at first either, but what the hell else could it be, Dean?” 

“Oh, come on!” he barked, running a hand over his face. “I see Sam got his hooks into you.” 

“Yeah, he did. And you need to listen to us.” 

“No, I really don’t,” he scoffed, starting to head to the door. 

“Even if it kills you?” you blurted out. 

“It’s not gonna kill me!” 

“God, look at you, Dean! It already is!” you argued, marching closer to him. “How would you feel if the situation were reversed?” 

He let out a sigh, pausing with his hand on the doorknob before turning back to you. “What?” 

“What if it were me going through all this instead of you? Would you let me get away with not even listening to you and Sam?” 

He narrowed his eyes at you, staring at you in silence for so long you expected him to turn away again. Instead, he let out a deep breath as he took a seat, gesturing for you to carry on. “Five minutes.” 

You almost went to argue before you thought better of it, knowing full well that if Dean never came around to the theory he would actually cut you off at the five minute mark. So, you did your best to recount the entire situation for him, reiterating what you, Sam, and Rowena had to say about it all in the hopes of getting through to him. By the time you finished, you knew it was well over five minutes, so you took Dean not interrupting you to be a good sign. 

“Okay,” he finally said with a small nod. “Well, I listened. Can I go now?” 

Your heart dropped to your stomach, anger and fear bubbling inside of you as you exploded. “God, you are unbelievable!”

“Well what do you want me to say?” he grumbled. “I just don’t believe that’s what’s going on.” 

“How can you not believe it?” you asked incredulously. “It’s obvious!” 

“Look, I said I don’t believe it, alright?” Dean snapped. “Why are you so hellbent on making this into some big fight? Just accept it.” 

“No!” you seethed. “I can’t just accept the fact that this could kill you. Especially not when there’s a way we could end this.” 

“No,” he disagreed, shaking his head. “You can’t fix this, [Y/N/N]. You just can’t.” 

“I can!” you cried. “Just tell me.” 

“Tell you what?” 

“You know what,” you scolded. 

“This is so fucking ridiculous.” 

“Tell me anyway.” 

“Why the hell do you care so much?” he questioned exasperatedly. 

“Because I’m fucking terrified, Dean!” you exclaimed. “I’ve watched you grow more restless and anxious every day since the night we finished that case. I’ve seen the life drain from you more and more as sleep became nearly impossible for you. And I know it’s nearly impossible for you, because I have spent the last eleven nights sitting on that bed as you got terrorised by your own mind. I don’t care if you believe in this curse or not, Dean, because I do.” 

Dean stood quietly, absorbing what you said as the severity of the situation began to dawn on him. 

“I mean don’t you get it?” you asked sadly, cutting through the silence. “If something happens to you, if I lose you… that’s not something I can come back from.” 

Dean fell silent once more, running a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath, pacing around the room a little as he turned everything over in his head. 

“I’m scared, Dean,” you reiterated softly. “Please, just let us try to fix this.” 

“There’s some things I should tell you, then,” he admitted quietly after a moment of silence, taking a seat on the bed. 

“About what’s been happening?” you asked hopefully. 

He nodded, staring down at his hands folded in his lap. “Yeah.” 

“Okay,” you said, moving his desk chair to take a seat. “I’m listening.” 

He took a bracing breath, taking a few minutes to build the courage to speak. “Well, you know I’ve been having nightmares.” 

“I do,” you agreed quietly. 

“It’s always the same one,” he admitted, keeping his gaze cast downwards. “I could never figure out why. It didn't make sense to me why it was always the same thing. So I finally talked to Sam about it, and he had a pretty good theory. But, you know me. I didn’t want to believe it because it came back down to that witch and this stupid fucking curse.” 

He let out a bitter laugh, pausing long enough for you to speak up. “What did he have to say about it?” 

“I tried telling myself I was fine,” he continued, ignoring your question. “I was fine, at first. At first it was just not sleeping well… but then other things started happening.” 

“Other things like what?” you wondered quietly. 

“Like my blood feeling like it’s on fucking fire,” he muttered, wiping at his face. “And my skin feeling like it-… like it’s being peeled off my goddamn bones, and my face feeling like it’s melting… and how I get this- this bubble inside my chest that feels like it’s either gonna burst or suffocate me and how it all only happens-” he stopped in his rambling, taking a deep breath before chuckling in disbelief. “God, it only happens when you’re not around, [Y/N].” 

“I-... what do you mean?” you asked breathlessly. 

“Oh, come on, [Y/N],” he said bitterly. “I know you’ve noticed. I text you more, I’m almost always calling you. I just- I get this… this unwavering panic inside me when you’re not around. I keep-... I swear to god I see you everywhere when you’re gone. I catch sight of you across the street, I smell your stupid shampoo when I’m alone, I hear your voice when no one’s there. I had an entire conversation with you and you weren’t even there,” he carried on, shaking his head as he briskly wiped away an angry tear. “God, I’m going fucking crazy,” he added with a manic chuckle. 

“You’re not crazy, Dean,” you said gently. 

“That night,” he started, staring at the wall across from him. “She was trying to get back someone she lost… someone she loved.” 

“Right,” you agreed. 

“They used to drown them, people they accused of being witches,” he continued slowly. 

“Yeah, it was pretty common. Sink, and you were innocent. Float, and you were guilty,” you pitched in. “But… what does that have to do with this?”

“I think they were innocent,” he said simply. “Whoever she lost… I think that’s how she lost them.” 

“Why do you think that?” you asked curiously. 

Dean cleared his throat, staring pensively at his hands once more. “The nightmares. It’s always… you always drown. I keep-... I can never save you.” 

“I don’t get-” you started to say, before he cut you off. 

“It’s how she lost who she loves, [Y/N],” he said curtly. “It makes sense for me to see the one I love go the same way.” 

“I-... what?” you asked, too stunned to think of anything else to say. 

“The dreams, the hallucinations, the- the way I’ve been feeling… I didn’t want to admit it, I still don’t, but I can’t… I mean I can only ignore it for so long, right?” he said, scoffing quietly. “Especially with you and Sam breathing down my neck about it.” 

“Ignore what, Dean?” you asked breathlessly, your heart hammering in your chest. 

“You,” he muttered. “They way I feel about you. The way I’ve always felt about you.” 

You didn’t dare respond, his words ringing in your ears as he fell silent, each of you lost in your own thoughts for a while. 

“I’ve always known that I love you, [Y/N/N],” he carried on, slowly meeting your gaze with glistening eyes. “But this… this curse, this whatever it is. God, it’s just made it all so much worse, and I knew. I knew it was you that my entire being was screaming out for but I couldn’t… I couldn’t admit it.” 

“Why not?” you asked shakily, feeling your tears starting to build. 

“How could I put that on you?” he asked, a few rogue tears slipping down his face. “You said it yourself, this thing is killing me. It’s gonna kill me, unless I get what I want, and given that that’s you, I’m calling it game over.” 

“No, Dean, it’s not,” you denied with a sniffle, cutting through your own stray tears. “You should’ve told me.” 

“Yeah, well,” he grumbled, shrugging lightly as he looked back at his hands. “I told you now.” 

“Dean,” you sighed, wiping your face as you stood from your seat. “Do you trust me?” you asked, walking towards him.

“Of course I do,” he said quickly, almost offended by the question. 

“Okay, well, I’ll need you to trust me on this,” you replied, stopping just in front of where he sat. 

“Okay,” he said with a huff. 

“You gotta look at me, though,” you said, laughing softly. 

Sighing dejectedly, he slowly lifted his head to meet your gaze, a ghost of a smile dancing on his lips as he looked at you. 

You smiled softly at him, gently taking his face in your hands before wordlessly bringing your lips down to meet his. At first, neither of you really knew what was happening, and just when you thought to pull away you felt his lips moving against your own. His hands gripped your waist to hold you in place a moment longer before you each pulled away, staring silently at each other as you processed what just happened. 

“What, uh… what was that for?” Dean finally asked. 

“Well, it was either that or slapping some sense into you,” you said playfully. “Which I almost think you still deserve, because I can’t believe you honestly think I don’t love you back.” 

“What?” he asked, his grip on your waist loosening in shock before tightening once more. 

“You’ve had me since the day we met, Dean,” you told him softly, carding your fingers through his hair. 

“You actually…” he trailed off quietly, trying to focus his thoughts. “You actually love me, of all people?” 

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I do.” 

“So I- well, I guess I could’ve saved a lot of trouble if I really did just tell you, huh?” he asked jokingly, laughing tightly. 

“I’ll give you hell for it tomorrow,” you teased, half serious. “For now, how about we try getting you back to sleep?” 

“Actually,” he said, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I have a better idea involving this bed.” 

You couldn’t help but snort a laugh, grinning fondly at him. “Oh, really?” 

He grinned back, laughing with you before taking on a more sombre tone. “Do you trust me?” 

“Always,” you said honestly. 

“Good,” he replied with a grin, laughing heartily at the shriek you let out when he tossed you on the bed. 

He stared down at you, a look you’ve never seen before painted on his face. “What?” you asked, giggling nervously.

“I love you,” he said earnestly, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. 

“I love you, too,” you replied shyly, grinning softly. 

He matched your grin, drinking you in a moment longer before crashing his lips upon yours once more. 

When Dean woke the next morning, it didn’t take long for a grin to spread across his face as he quickly realized two things. 

The first thing being that you, the love of his life, still remained tangled up in both his arms and the sheets, sleeping peacefully atop his chest. 

The second being that, for the first time in a total of thirteen days, he was able to sleep without being haunted by his nightmares. 

He felt you stir, and his grin widened as you nestled in closer, tightening your grip on him as you slept. He planted a kiss against your temple, pulling you in close as he blissfully settled in for another peaceful rest. 

Maybe witches aren’t so bad.

tagging: @roseblue373

let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

[thefaeriemagic3]

i hope wherever daisyisawriter91 (author of 23 of 40 garth/benny fics on ao3) is they are having a good day

[winchester-reload]

Art for the lovely fic “And Now We Live” by WhatWeDoInTheDark (aka @pattywinchester). Head over to Ao3 and show the author some love!!

Thanks for letting me make some art for it, my friend. And thank you for your lovely words 💓

[nabooberrie]

This means dean sat his phone up, and ran back to pose 😭

[redroses07]

off topic but i need him