#Sam (who found out about fanfiction not long before the apocalypse): . . .

[ckneal]

I don't know when it happened, but at some point I started thinking of the Fate characters on Supernatural as essentially being in charge of doing Chuck's grunt work behind the scenes. Just like some overworked lackeys sitting behind a bunch of computer screens. Unlike Michael and the other angels (but, apparently, JUST like the Men of Letters, as per season 15), they were perfectly aware that there were multiple universes in existence, along with multiple versions of all of Chuck’s favorite characters (or plot devices, in Michael’s case), because it was their job to keep records of all the different universes that Chuck created. And every time that Chuck wanted to start playing with a new universe that was almost the same as one he’d already tinkered with in the past, it was their job to get the universe set up by playing it through--making sure that all of history hit the same stale, tired beats that they’d seen it hit countless times before, except with the very specific, tiny changes that Chuck asked them to make. Essentially like running through a game of Dream Daddy or the Sims on fast forward until hitting the point where Chuck wanted to jump in and take over the narrative.

And wouldn’t it be funny if Adam only existed in one universe because one day, one of these Fates (we are only introduced to Atropos on the show, named after a Greek goddess of fate, but her dialogue implies that the corresponding goddesses, Clotho and Lachesis, exist as well) snapped from the monotony of it all? 

Obviously, the fate in question wouldn’t be Atropos, as her one appearance made it perfectly clear that she was happy with her job. But what about the other two? Maybe Lachesis was sitting there at one point, so bored she wanted to cry, running through the motions of making John act like the shit dad that he needed to be, so Sam and Dean would grow up with the issues they need to have in draft # 1552362 of Chuck's story--and out of nowhere, she hit the button to turn off the fast forward feature. Just to play in real time for a bit--just for a little bit, while she gave herself a break. John was in the ER, getting patched up at the tail end of an ugly hunt. As per the the instructions she'd followed in thousands upon thousands of different setup assignments, he was suppose to be curt and vague with his nurse while she asked the kind of standard, friendly questions that medical professionals often did to establish rapport with their patients. But this time, Lachesis decided to do things a little differently. 

No one was watching. This was a small little moment in John Winchester's life, it wouldn't impact Chuck's story. . .So she clicked the buttons necessary to make John Winchester tell a few jokes. And it was fun watching John Winchester be that nice at that age, with the little bar in the corner of her screen that indicated affability going up and up. And she didn't really mean to hit "Flirtatious Joke” after the two had gone back and forth for a bit, but her finger slipped, and then there was a little progress made in a pink bar that indicated romantic attraction. 

And it was at that point that she looked up and saw Clotho hovering over her shoulder, watching what she was doing, and Lachesis started to ramble off a disjointed explanation that she was NOT doing anything out of turn--but then Clotho, still squinting at Lachesis’s screen, said, "Try a Bold Pick Up Line." 

One thing led to another, and they were both more than a little drunk on the sweet, sweet nectar of misbehaving when Lachesis eventually clicked "Try for a Baby." And thus Adam Milligan was born. 

Lachesis and Clotho waited for some sort of punishment to come through. A penance, a memo, something, but Adam slipped into existence as just another mundane human in the background of Chuck's world, and the two rebellious Fates were thrilled. As happens with many first time Sims players, they approached Adam wanting him to excel with everything. They maxed out his education and his relationship with his mom, and even got him a wholesome little relationship going with another townie human--all while working around the other tasks Chuck sent them, and keeping Atropos--who had a huge stick in her ass--out of the loop. 

Then they got greedy, because Adam's loneliness bar was so high. They thought they were being so slick, having John come to visit around hunting trips, but that was what finally made Chuck aware of this random human smack dab in the middle of his special family tree. And thus the Fates got a note instructing them to quietly kill him off, just as Chuck was doing with all of the Campbell family members. Maybe a brain aneurysm, or a car crash if they wanted something dramatic. He highly recommends telling Adam to start a fire. 

The two Fates were scandalized (and the third confused). They wrote back to Chuck, "No, he's our baby."

And so the battle of wills was on. 

Chuck turned around and decided that if they were going to be like that, he'd make them sorry--by writing Adam into his story, and using him as a foil to Sam, and killing him off horrifically. 

Outraged, Clotho and Lachesis hacked into Castiel in retaliation--causing that infamous "crack in his chassis" by overriding his original function with instructions to help Dean escape that beautiful room. 

Chuck nearly bit through his divine lip at that, but then he got the idea to bring Adam back from the dead. For one second, the Fates thought this was Chuck giving in, granting them their one tiny little human to play with, but then PSYCH! Chuck had Michael possess Adam and wrote the two of them into Lucifer's cage, to spend the rest of eternity rotting in Hell, beyond help from anyone in a grand finale he came up with just for spite.

But the Fates weren't done yet. As Chuck kept trying to reclaim control of his narrative, they kept trying to find ways to hack into the storyline and save their boy.

Sadly, Chuck was not done yet either. 

"And so Dean asked Death to save his brothers. AND DEATH SAID PICK ONE AND DEAN PICKED SAM AND EVERYONE WAS COOL WITH THAT." 

"And then to complete the trials, it was said that the Winchesters must save an innocent soul from Hell, and thus they went back for [BOBBY]."

"And so the Winchesters opened the cage wide enough to make contact, and they conversed with [LUCIFER AND NO ONE ELSE]."

As time went on, Chuck became more and more certain that eventually the Fates would give up. It was just one human they hadn’t interacted with in years. How attached could they still be after so long? But little does he suspect that midway through season 6, Clotho smacked Lachesis on the shoulder and said, "Hey, I hacked the cage."

"WHAT?" Lachesis practically climbed over Clotho to get a better look, and sure enough, Adam was on Clotho's screen, hiding behind Michael, looking on in horror as Sam was being tortured.

"Our poor baby! There has to be something we can do!"

"Right, okay." And so Clotho took control of Adam, clicked on Michael, and selected "Flirty Greeting." 

"That's. . .kind of disturbing, don't you think?"

There was a pause as Clotho stared at the screen, pensively. Then, "Right, okay."

A moment later in the cage, the scenery abruptly changed. Sam was suddenly in a booth, Lucifer and Michael behind a glass counter. Adam’s standing in the middle of a tile floor, confused.

"Are we. . .in a coffee shop?"

[carryonmywaywardcaptain]

Imagine...finding out there’s fanfic written about you--and even Charlie ships you with Dean

CarryOnCap’s Masterlist

Warnings: Fluff? Crack? A dramatic fanfic within a fanfic that I got carried away with haha.

A/N: This is kind of ridiculous, but I had fun with it! Also, I’ve never actually seen GoT but it seemed like a reasonable reference from what I’ve heard about it.

“Hey, look who I found!” Sam’s voice echoed through the War Room.

Dean glanced at you from across the table in the library, sharing your surprised expression as you both pushed your chairs away and stood. 

“‘Sup, bitches?” Charlie grinned, making her way up the steps toward you.

“Hey! We were expecting you guys to come in through the main door. We’ve been keeping an ear out.”

Charlie stepped into your outstretched arms and pulled you into a tight hug. “It was a spur of the moment decision, but I decided to stick around a day or two longer than planned! Sam said I could go ahead and park in the garage.”

She let go of you and turned to give Dean a hug too. He smiled softly with a look that was uniquely reserved for her, cradling the back of her head while she pressed her cheek against his.

“Good to see you, Charlie. You know you’re always welcome to stay as long as you want.”

An involuntary smile crept onto your face as you watched them. You couldn’t help the way your heart swelled at the low rumble in his voice when he said her name. There was an undeniable protectiveness in his tone when he spoke to her--the sister he’d never wanted, as he affectionately called her.

When you shifted your attention to her, you noticed she was watching you. Before you could decipher the knowing glint in her eye, she suddenly twisted out of his arms and glanced back and forth between you and Dean. She began swinging her arms awkwardly before opting to cross them over her chest.

“You okay?” Dean asked, furrowing his brow.

“Yeah! Of course...Totes chill...cooler than a pack of peppermints.” She bobbed her head and flashed a nervous smile, twisting her hair around her finger as she struggled to act nonchalant. “It’s just that I remembered something. A story I read a while back--completely random. Totally unrelated to anything--I mean, now I’m starting to ramble. Hah! So how’ve you guys been? Still saving the world from evil sons-of-bitches?” 

“Uh, yeah…” Sam answered, scrunching his eyebrows together. “We stay busy.”

“So what’s on the agenda tonight?” you piped up, changing the subject.

You were hoping to avoid swapping monster stories for a night. Charlie typically assumed the role of introducing you to popular and noteworthy fandoms during her visits to the bunker and, even if the boys weren’t as vocal, the three of you appreciated her knowledge of all things geeky and nerdy. 

“I was thinking Marvel. Y/N, you’re obviously well-versed in the MCU because of your obsession with Steve Rogers--and, you know, clearly you’ve got a thing for the strong, righteous, self-sacrificing hero type. Dean, you could stand to branch out from the Batman references and, Sam, you’ve got this whole Thor kind of vibe going on.”

While Sam and Dean began teasing each other and arguing over “Batman versus Thor,” you gaped at Charlie, wondering what she’d meant by her remark about you having a “type.” You couldn’t help feeling like she was trying to insinuate something, but you shrugged it off and decided maybe it was all in your head.

***

After getting Charlie settled into one of the extra bedrooms, the four of you settled into the Dean Cave and agreed to start with the first Captain America movie. 

Last Christmas, you and Sam had teamed up to surprise Dean with a couch for the Dean Cave. He had originally only had two La-Z-boy recliners and you’d found him fast asleep in the stiff old chairs on more than one occasion. Dean had been over the moon about the extra seating and the three of you had rearranged the furniture so the recliners were angled toward the tv on either side of the couch.

“Dibs on this side of the couch!” Charlie said, diving toward the furthest end from the door.

Although it was subtle, you knew there was still something off about the way Charlie studied all of you. There was definitely something on her mind she was trying to keep hidden from all of you.

“You know, we should probably have some snacks,” you said slowly. “Charlie, you want to come help me grab some stuff from the kitchen?”

“But I’m already comfy in my spot.” She frowned, wiggling her hips to make a point of sinking deeper into the spot she’d claimed on the couch. “Why don’t you have Dean help you?”

When you narrowed your eyes suspiciously, Sam cleared his throat. “Dean, why don’t I help you grab some snacks while Y/N and Charlie...catch up, er, whatever…”

You heard the boys leave the room and waited until their footsteps faded down the hall before you started interrogating her.

“Alright, Charlie--what the hell is going on with you?”

“I don’t know what you're talking about,” she muttered, scrolling through her phone.

“Bull. We lie for a living and I know there’s something you’re not telling us. So spill.”

“Fine,” she sighed. “Okay, so remember the Supernatural books by Carver Edlund?”

“Yeah…”

“The series obviously kind of had a cult following when it was in print, right? Well ever since the unpublished works got uploaded, the following has really taken off. Every once in a while a new one still pops up and the fans love them. And you’re in them now too!”

“I’m...what?”

“I mean it’s just insane and totally got sucked into it too. It’s brought on this whole new wave of fanfiction--”

“What’s fanfiction?” you cut in, struggling to keep up.

“It’s fiction made by the fans about the series. Sometimes they put themselves in the stories and write about working cases and fighting monsters with you guys--”

“Why would anyone want to pretend to do this crap with their lives?”

She stared at you for a moment and frowned. “Because you guys are heroes. I mean, yeah, there’s the whole depressing side of monsters and death and trauma and world-ending apocalypses--but you guys save people. You go on these exciting adventures of good versus evil and a lot of times you win. You save people. The fans really look up to all of you.”

Your gaze fell to the floor as you let her words sink in, but she didn’t give you long before she was rambling again.

“But that’s not even the best part! Everyone ships different OTPs--” she paused, noticing your puzzled expression “--uh, one true pairing… So everyone has a favorite couple they think are soulmates and belong together. There’s stories about Sam with Eileen or Jess, Dean with different people--you get the gist. Sometimes they even make up characters or do these ‘reader inserts’ and imagine themselves with the boys or you but, hands down, everyone’s favorite couple they want to end up together is you and Dean.”

“...what?” 

Your eyes grew wide. It was hard enough to wrap your mind around the fact that strangers who didn’t know you were a real person were reading about your life, but learning they imagined you in different relationships? You’d never admit it out loud, but had it bad for Dean. And hearing you weren’t the only one that wanted the two of you together...

“I’ve gone deep into the fic and I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner!” Charlie shook you from your thoughts. “You and Dean are perfect for each other. For serious. I usually stick to the fluffy stuff because, you know, your entire life is kind of angsty and I don’t like to read about you guys being in pain or, like, dying...again. Although I definitely have to admit I kind of stumbled into some of the smutty stuff and, wow, that was something else.”

You opened your mouth to ask more questions, but she kept rolling.

“Right, you probably don’t know what that means either. Fluff is the cute stuff that gives us all feels, angst is kind of just what it sounds like, and smut is, well...the sexy stuff.”

“You mean people out there in the world write about me and Dean…”

“Going at it like an episode of Game of Thrones? Oh yeah,” she responded, unlocking her phone. “Here. Here’s an example.”

Swallowing audibly, you took a seat next to her on the couch as she extended her phone toward you. Gnawing your bottom lip, you began reading the words on the screen:

Y/N took a deep breath, holding it in briefly before she exhaled and began walking toward Dean’s room. Ever since they returned from the hunt, Dean had hidden himself away in his room--no doubt blaming himself for everything that had gone wrong.

When she arrived at his door, she raised her hand to knock. She hesitated, almost retreating at the thought of him turning her away, but she had to try. She had to get through to him somehow.

She rapped her knuckles on the raw umber barrier and opened the door of Room 11 before he could tell her to go away. 

She spotted him leaning over the sink, staring at his reflection in the medicine cabinet on the wall. His jade eyes flickered to where she stood in the doorway, their reflection somewhat distorted by cracks that spiderwebbed from where he had struck the mirror.

Her heart seemed to drop into her stomach as she imagined him lashing out, knowing he punched the mirror because he hated the reflection staring back at him. Knowing he always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders when he didn’t need to.

Y/N carefully shut the door and locked it behind her--the click of the deadbolt deafening in the silence. Her eyes never left Dean, who refused to turn and face her. She inched toward him, closing the distance until she could reach out and touch him. Gently placing her hand on his shoulder, she guided him to turn away from the mirror. Still, he refused to meet her eyes.

“Dean…” she breathed, voice barely above a whisper as she cupped his face in her hands. “It’s not your fault.”

He squeezed his eyes closed, face contorting with grief and guilt. The ghosts of his past refused to let him go, but she was determined to make him believe that he was worthy, no matter the cost.

Curling a finger beneath his chin, she tilted his head up, waiting patiently for him to meet her gaze. When his dark green orbs finally met hers, she was surprised to see that they were full of longing and desire. They flickered to her lips, making her breath tremble under the intensity of his gaze. Time seemed to slow until it froze altogether.

Anticipation hung heavy in the air as they both struggled against their desire to maintain the friendship they’d always had and the desperate need to finally cross that line. To succumb to the magnetic pull that had always been evident between the two of them.

Dean swallowed thickly before suddenly rushing forward, crashing his lips to Y/N’s as he pulled her into a searing kiss. He wrapped his strong arms around her, trapping her to his chest, afraid it was all a dream and she would soon disappear. But she gladly melted into his embrace, feeling like she was finally returning home, to a place she’d spent her life searching for.

A moan slipped past her lips as he walked her backward, pressing her up against the wall. She gasped, feeling his--

“The snacks have arrived!”

You jumped in surprise, a small gasp of surprise escaping as the boys appeared with armloads of snacks. Confusion and worry painted Dean’s face as he surveyed your flustered expression. Between his scrutinizing gaze and the content you’d practically been caught reading, your cheeks grew warm. 

“Did I miss something?” Dean asked.

“Nope,” you responded much too quickly.

Charlie’s phone had fallen into your lap and, when she began cackling, you whipped your head in her direction and flung the phone at her thigh. You grimaced and the two of you had your own silent conversation as the boys spread the food across the bar Dean had built on the far wall.

“I was just telling Y/N how pumped I am about seeing my favorite OTP tonight,” she giggled.

“Your...what?”

Dean’s arm brushed yours as he plopped down on the other side of you. The accidental contact sent a wave of chills over your skin, making you shudder. You could feel his eyes on you again, but you refused to look at him.

“Oh, I’m so going down with this ship,” Charlie whispered under her breath before continuing in a louder voice. “Nothing--nevermind! Don’t mind me, just thinking out loud...”

“It says here an OTP means...one true pairing?” Your eyes grew wide as you looked to where Sam was reading his phone from where he sat in one of the recliners. “So, uh, ‘in the fandom realm, OTP refers to the coupling of characters--usually from the sci-fi or fantasy genres--by fans who think they make a great romantic duo and envision their lives together and share their imaginings with other fans.’”*

Charlie doubled over, beside herself with laughter. With your lips pressed into a firm line, you glanced at the boys to gauge their reactions. You knew there was no way they could possibly know what you and Charlie had been talking about, but that didn’t stop you from worrying about what Dean might think if he ever found out about the feelings you harbored for him. 

“So...you’re looking forward to Cap and his girl in the movie? I’m so freaking confused,” Dean grumbled.

“Yeah…” Sam agreed, making his way to the tv. “I’m just, uh...I’m gonna start the movie now.” 

“Good idea.” Charlie peered at you out of the corner of her eye. “Plenty of time to read and talk about all those ships later.”

Although you glared at her, trying to hide your amusement, nothing could deter the smug smile etched upon her face. As Sam turned the lights off and you settled in for another relaxing night with your favorite people, one thing was certain:

You were definitely going to have to take another look at that fanfiction.

CarryOnCap Crew (Forevers):

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[finaledenialist]

Okay, your tags on The Empty Post have showed up in my notes and I have to ask. Tell me more. Tell me it all. All of the feelings and thoughts about that scene because what I’ve seen so far? Absolute perfection and I agree wholeheartedly.

Thank you! Okay I basically unloaded most of my thoughts in my tags here but let’s go through this one more time. I may add: this was already said a thousand times by better meta writers than me 3 years ago when season 13 was actually airing. And I will ramble a little about Purgatory, too. Now with that out of the way: 

The Empty. Canonically it is a being, a living immortal being that rules the place or an ‘anti-place’ where angels and demons go are sent to when they die to dream of their regrets forever (this sounds awful and like a punishment for dying despite being immortal, for getting themselves killed or something). Also: the Empty was there before Creation, the Nothingness before Darkness and before Light. 

Okay. But let’s see what other things the Empty represents: lack of anything. Complete nothingness that Cas got sucked into (by Lucifer but also by helping the Winchesters). Now we know that Cas‘I am afraid I might kill myself’tiel had his issues, right (I still can’t believe that we are praising 8x08 thee Hunteri Heroici for being a filler episode with Cas - which is awesome, don’t get me wrong - but we all keep forgetting what he actually did say to Dean there!!! Dean says: are you afraid the angels will kill you if you show up in Heaven? And Cas looks straight into his eyes and says: After all I’ve done, when I see Heaven, I am afraid I might kill myself).

Please remember that it’s not only Dean, Mr. ‘Purgatory was pure’. Cas, after all he did in season 6, after his death in s7, after coming back and being literally haunted by everything he’s done, must have felt that Purgatory was liberating, too. It was some kind of an Alternative Universe where he didn’t have to face the consequences of his actions. He was free of them. It was literally his escape AND additionally it was (well, according to good old christian lore, maybe not specifically spn lore) a place where you are supposed to atone for your sins so there must have been the feeling of atoning, of making things right without actually doing anything specific, where having to survive and not get eaten by the Leviathans was his main problem (= surviving was just enough, nothing was asked of him), which, compared to all he’s done, wasn’t that hard or difficult. He found himself running away from Leviathans which could mirror running away from consequences of his actions - but it was Purgatory, it was at the same time atoning for what he did. It was EASY.

Cas basically confirms that he officially stayed in Purgatory because he didn’t think he deserved to go back to Earth and that is true but what he doesn’t say is: ‘Purgatory was pure and easy and kill or be killed and no other worries than that, no thinking, no real responsibilities which actually was a nice escape from the real world after all I did and been through in the past 3 years’. He wanted out, he wanted an easy choice. Okay, maybe he wasn’t actively looking for an easy way out but when it presented itself - when they appeared in Purgatory - he took it like a gift. We’re talking about a character who spent all his life following orders, who finally broke free and found himself completely lost in the freedom of choices, directionless and maybe wanted an escape. He must have felt overwhelmed but all this freedom (which he basically confirms in 6x20 freedom is a length of rope and god wants you to hang yourself with it). I COMPLETELY understand that choice to escape. 

So in seasons 8-12 Cas has a lot of stuff going on in his head, he gets lobotomized for most of season 8, he is hurt and tortured and treated like shit for most of season 9 and 10 and he ultimately gives himself up to Lucifer in s11 and then he almost dies in 12x12 and he never really got to talk about all of this or work this things out with anyone because Sam or Dean are not really the most talkative guys and Dean in 10x09 basically tells Cas to ‘let it go and not think about it’ which is a shitty advice to someone who suffers from some mental issues if I am being honest (this is like. ur depressed? oh go for a run and smile and stop being sad!!! kind of advice if you ask me). So these issues only grow and grow and start eating him up and please remember that at the very same time Cas is falling in love. I said it previously but I think the moment he realizes what he really feels is 12x12 when he is dying. In that moment he is able to name this feeling but it’s of course covered by: ‘I love you. I love all of you’. 

Now in season 12 he finally gets a proper arc with Kelly (god bless her, honestly, she and Cas had one of the most healthy relationships ever portrayed on tv and it wasn’t even romantic, I could go off about this but it’s getting really long anyway). So he kind of is on his way to find a purpose again - Dean is saved (from hell, from Michael, from the Mark), so he focuses on Kelly and unborn Jack and maybe in his relationship with her he rediscovers love (not necessarily romantic but he sees how she loves Jack) and he does all he can to protect her from basically everyone including the Winchesters. And he promises he will take care of Jack and then. Then he is killed by Lucifer (shattered at the altar of Winchester because he gets involved in the Apocalypse World because of them while having built something for himself with Kelly and Jack BUT still not having properly processed all his previous trauma). 

Okay, so fast forward: Cas is woken up by Jack in the Empty. He is of course confused and stuff (we still don’t know what was he dreaming about all this time he spent there now that we know this is a place where angels and demons dream about their mistakes and regrets <- fanfiction gap #1). He wakes up, he is ‘greeted’ by the Empty and one of the first things he says is that he has to go back because Sam and Dean need him. 

This is his first, automatic thought - I (probably) don’t want to go back, but Sam and Dean need me so I have to, I don’t want to go back for myself because I never wanted to since Purgatory but I know I have to. He doesn’t even think about Jack in this moment. I... maybe it is a stretch but I sense a kind of fear in these words. It’s like he thinks: ‘if I had the chance to come back and chose not to come back from selfish reasons then if the Winchesters ever find out about this they will be angry at me’. But I might be reading too much into this, but on the other hand Jesus fucking Christ this is precisely what happened in Purgatory. He chose to stay although he had a chance to return and the effect was Dean being mad at him. Talk about trauma--

Then the Empty (who was in Cas’ mind) voices his biggest fears: 

'I know who you love, I know what you fear. There is nothing for you back there. Wouldn't you rather be a fond memory than a constant festering disappointment?'

There is a lot to unpack here because this is the Empty’s (who, as stated at the beginning can be read as a manifestation of not only death but also Cas’ depression and self-worth issues) reaction to Cas saying that Sam and Dean need him. She says: uh oh you’re wrong<3 I know who you love, what you fear, the is nothing there for you, sweetie. Essentially: they don’t need you. No one needs you or wants you there. They are better off without you. Wouldn’t you rather be a fond memory (of actually being useful as in: saving Dean from hell, helping to stop the Apocalypse, helping to fight the Leviathans) than a disappointment (failing powers, makes mistake after a mistake, chooses to protect the unborn Antichrist rather than killing him before he’s born - and not to make this whole thing worse but this is what Dean has the audacity to say to Cas in 15x03: why if something goes wrong it always seem to be you).

I will now allow myself for some privacy, because I am a person who dealt with these kind of thoughts in my head for years, these are straight up suicidal thoughts: no one needs you, no one wants you, you are a disappointment and if you die you will be fondly remembered, everyone is better off without you. And we know Cas was suicidal because he literally tells us in 8x08 and we have no proof that he somehow got rid of these thoughts, ever. If anything, they were always there, present, if not growing. Thoughts like that don’t just disappear. Please remember one more time what was happening to Cas in seasons 8-11. He wasn’t healing. He was getting worse, while all this time managing to keep his head above water for someone else, while the guilt was rising and rising. 

If the Empty represents all his issues: depression, suicidal thoughts, guilt, self-hate, lack of self-worth, and what she offers is: eternal sleep. Maybe not entirely peaceful sleep, but sleep nevertheless, no consequences, no facing your fears, no dealing with anything, an escape, sleep - 

And she prompts him to stop fighting, to go back to sleep because there is nothing to fight for (now the symbolism of him being waken up by JACK who was his new found purpose just before he got killed), but she makes a mistake to confront his thoughts and fears with him. She makes a mistake of taking a ‘physical’ form, putting on his face and voice his fears. And Cas is a warrior and he kind of hates himself, so his instinct was to fight. Of course it was easier not to think about all of these stuff at all, to push it back, to try to forget. But once he was forced to face all of these? He fought back. AND HE WON!!!!! 

WHAT A MESSAGE TO SEND RIGHT?!!! You might have all these issues and not want to face them because you feel you will crush under them but look: when you are forced to face them it turns out you are somehow way stronger than them!!! The moment you choose to fight you already won, you are already saved!!! Because ultimately these are your thoughts and this is your mind and you control it, no one else! The moment you decide, you choose, to take control: you win. You are saved because you chose to save yourself because you decided you are worth saving. And the Empty (and everything she represents) immediately gets angry and lets him go, ultimately annoyed because he dared to defy her and she just can’t win with someone who decides he wants to be free. WHAT. 👏🏻  A.  👏🏻 WONDERFUL. 👏🏻  MESSAGE.  👏🏻

So... Having said all that. There is only one thing left: I have NO IDEA. NO IDEA. HOW HE FOUND THE STRENGTH. TO STAND UP AND SAY THIS:

I'm already saved. You can prance and you can preen and you can scream and yell and remind me of my failings but somehow, I'm awake. And I will stay awake and I will keep you awake until we both go insane. I will fight you. Fight you and fight you for... ever. For eternity.

A FUCKING ICON. STRONGEST CHARACTER EVER. YOUR FAVE COULD NEVER--

[beautifulbows924]

Defending Beauty

Lucifer (Supernatural) x Reader

Masterlist

(Set after Season 11- Jack doesn’t exist in this timeline, and Chuck & Lucifer have repaired their relationship to an extent. Lucifer is living at the bunker, and so is Gabriel (who was kidnapped by asmodeus, but was found earlier in this timeline). The archangels will occasionally help out on hunts when the hunters need a helping hand).

A/N: Hey everyone. Wow! I keep starting these little things I get inspired to write and then I forget about them or I don’t think they are good enough to post- but I swear I’m getting back into writing (FINALLY). I’ve been really into reading supernatural angel fanfiction lately, so this was born out of that. I should have some more fanfics up soon with other Supernatural characters (Castiel and Gabriel cough cough). Remember to feel free to request for Supernatural (or anything I write about really). I love you all! I’m so excited to be getting extremely close to 2000 followers. I’ll have to do some kind of Challenge or something once I reach the goal. As always I hope you enjoy, feel free to leave any feedback:)

Word Count: 1750+

Warnings: FLUFF, Angst?, Good guy Lucifer? (Reformed), Strong Language, Typical SPN Violence, and Suggestive Themes.

Summary: Reader has always been kind to Lucifer, who seems to be misjudged by everyone in his life. The Winchester brothers don’t like this, and have no problem letting them both know it.

“Why do you feel the need to defend him!? He’s the goddamn Devil!”, Dean yelled, face close to yours with his hands clenched in anger.

“Because Dean! Lucifer is real and he isn’t just some little red man with horns and a pitchfork tail. He is beautiful, because he’s an angel and he used to be God’s Favorite”, You paused to take a deep breath, venom seeping into your words, “Just because all you and Sam want to see of him is the devil- you can’t even take a look around and see him for who truly he is. He may be a fallen angel, but he’s the only angel I’d ever get on my knees for. Even GOD himself has forgiven him Dean, so don’t patronize me for agreeing.”

You glared at him, challenging him with every word.

“Well now I know why on every hunt it looks like all you want to do is suck his dick!”

“Dean enough”, Sam said softly from behind his brother. His voice getting louder when he started to address you, “We’re just worried about- how close you seem to be with him. I know you weren’t around for a lot of the apocalypse stuff, but he hurt us a lot. We don’t want to see that happen to you too”, He confessed.

“You don’t choose who I spend my time with. Gabriel has “hurt” both of you and yet neither of you have any issues with me hanging out with him. The only reason we are having this conversation is because you don’t like that I appreciate his help. Why? Because he’s the “Devil”. So what? He’s proved time and time again that he can be trusted. Hell he just saved Sam from Death yet again! But no, only you two get to choose who receives forgiveness- who gets a pass when it’s convenient for you. If I remember correctly Cas started an apocalypse too, so stop being hypocrites when it comes to Lucifer. He hasn’t even asked for your forgiveness, but the way both of you treat him is ridiculous. Grow the fuck up.”

You swiftly turned away from both of them, the sound of your heavy footsteps echoing off the bunker walls. You couldn’t believe Dean- all Lucifer ever did was help and he couldn’t stop treating him like some kind of monster. He had come immediately and helped save his brother’s life, but nothing was ever good enough for him. Either of them.

You scoffed at the thought of what Lucifer would think of this outburst. Sam and Dean hated how you viewed Lucifer, and it was obvious your feelings were more than just simple respect. You felt like such an insignificant human with a crush on a mighty archangel, God’s favorite of all things. Your door slammed shut behind you, and with a quiet sigh you laid down on your bed. Your hands pressed against your face in frustration of the prior events.

The fluttering of wings startled you, whipping your head around you turned to see Lucifer leaning casually against your headboard. Anyone else would have missed the slight narrowed look to his eyes and the left tilt his head made sometimes when he was trying to figure something out, but you weren’t just anyone.

“How much did you hear?”, You asked, hoping to get this conversation out of the way as quickly as possible.

He seemingly ignored your question, shifting closer to where you were seated at the edge of the bed.

“You know I never wanted to experience something as stupid or as dangerous as love. And to love a human? It’s simply beyond comprehension-”

“You don’t have to rub it in Lucifer, I understand”, You said, cutting him off before you had to bear the rest of your heart shattering in your chest.

You didn’t know what response you were expecting, but you jumped a bit when strong arms wrapped around your waist and a head leaned against your back. It was comforting and you allowed it, thinking it may be the last chance you would get to do so with the archangel.

“I don’t think you understand Y/N. I may be a fallen angel, but I wasn’t supposed to fall for you. It was never in my plans to let any of humanity into my heart- and if Hell were to see me now they would scoff at my sincerity”, Lucifer said, holding onto you tighter as if you might slip through his fingers at any moment.

You turned a bit to face him again, his arms still wrapped around you. He looked up, blue eyes meeting yours and you swore that you could make out a hint of vulnerability swirling there.

“Lucifer- I uh, I care about you quite a bit, and I don’t know if that’s what you mean regarding how you feel about me but-”, Your words were stopped suddenly at the feeling of cold lips pressed to yours. You were frozen at first, until you realized what was happening and returned the kiss passionately. A hand instinctively reached up and tangled into his hair tugging on it a bit. He groaned and gripped your hips pulling you into his lap. You gasped at the sudden movement, allowing his forked tongue to make its way into your mouth. You fought for dominance, but he quickly won against you. The kiss lasted for as long as possible before you needed to breathe.

You pushed on his shoulder with the hand that had been resting in his hair to signal for him to lay back against the bed. You laid down against him, your head on his chest listening to his heart beat, right hand absentmindedly playing with his t-shirt. His arm wrapped around your waist, drawing soft circles with his fingers.

“Was that- I mean, What was that?”, You whispered softly to him, confusion seeping into your voice as you wondered if he could really feel the same way about you.

He laughed a bit, smiling down at you. “You are an odd little creature aren’t you, do we need to do a repeat of the last 5 minutes as proof of how I feel?”

You blushed at this, the way he was holding you almost felt like confirmation enough, but you couldn’t help your need to know for certain.

“I just can’t believe that happened”, You pressed further, “It almost feels like a dream”.

The hand that was still rubbing circles into your side, pinched your skin softly. “No dreams here, little human. Although, I heard a mention of you on your knees earlier, and that sounds like quite the dream to me”.

You laughed a bit at that looking up at him, “Sweet moment ruined”, you said.

“Me sweet? Never”, He said gesturing with his hand to himself.

You leaned up a bit to press his lips to yours again. He smiled into the kiss and you pulled back to see the brightest smile you had ever seen grace his features. You couldn’t help but smile back in pride that you had caused such a look.

“How long have you had feelings for me?”, You asked suddenly, curious as to when he realized it.

He looked away a little at that, you would swear he even seemed embarrassed at the posing of your question. You laced your fingers with his, giving his hand a tight squeeze in encouragement.

He scratched the back of his neck with his free hand, “When I first came back to the bunker after my father helped me to reform my vessel. You were the one who would ask me to do things with you. You would read to me when I would sit next to you on the couch. I wouldn’t even have to ask- you would just suddenly switch from reading in your head to aloud as if it was customary. You would always have coffee ready for me in the morning when you realized that despite my angelic status I enjoyed it. And when it came to Sam, Dean, Gabriel, or even My Father himself. You would defend me, the devil, Satan- you looked past how everyone viewed me and truly saw me. I don’t know if I can ever make up for the mistakes I’ve made in the past, but I would like to start by learning to see humanity, angels, everyone the way you do. Kind and without any judgement. Somehow you’ve changed me, my little human”.

He breathed in shakily, before speaking again, “And earlier today when you prayed to me. I was terrified- me”, He laughed without humor, “I thought I might show up and find you dead, taken from me. I would never be able to forgive myself if something happened to you on my watch”.

You could see the pain in his eyes at the thought of losing you, “I’m not planning on leaving you anytime soon Lucifer, my angel”, You said softly, caressing his cheek with your hand.

He hummed in response.

“Since I first laid eyes on you, I noticed how lonely you seemed. How you would hide behind your hard stares and smirks. I wanted to treat you without looking through the eyes of others, especially knowing how well most of them judge character”, You laughed taking a pause, “I started noticing the way you’d gravitate closer towards me whenever we were in a room with others, and I liked the idea of us. A cherry red color became my fate when anyone would point it out, or notice it too. Because I never thought that you would want me as anything else other than a way to feel less alone.”

“I’m glad I was wrong”, You murmured softly into his neck, leaving a kiss there and continuing all the way up his jawline until you kissed his lips roughly.

“Me too”, He said, pulling away to look at you directly in the eyes, then settling you back into his arms.

You yawned quietly, your head resting on his chest again.

He laughed a little bit at the noise, but leant down to place his lips against your forehead.

When your eyes closed he told you, “Get some rest my little human, I’ll watch over you”.

He tried to pull away, but you snuggled further into his embrace and whispered, “Please stay”.

“Of course”, He responded quietly, knowing there was nowhere else he would rather be.

The comforting feeling of his arms wrapped around you as he whispered sweet words of nothing into your ear, lulled you right to sleep.

True to his word, Lucifer watched over you all night.

And God couldn’t help but smile in the morning, when he saw you and Lucifer together. Lucifer finally trusting a human enough to sleep in their arms, even if he didn’t need to.

*Thanks for reading! Leave a Note or Reblog if you Enjoyed it* ~Rose💛

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[musingsofanunorgainizedmind]

Top 10 Things I Love About Supernatural

It’s been almost half a year since the show ended and now that the dust has settlIed, I just want to list ten reasons I love this show. Despite it’s flaws, it’s been quite the ride.

1. Team Free Will

When I first got the idea to make this list, I originally planned on doing entirely separate entries for “Sam & Dean” and “Destiel”. Except then I wanted to pay tribute to “Sastiel”. And then I wanted to do an entry for “Team Free Dads”. By that point, I was already halfway through the list and I hadn’t even moved on from the main characters. A few months ago, I made a post about why I love every single pairing in this group. Obviously, Sam and Dean are a legendary duo. Obviously, Dean and Cas have an unparalleled story. Obviously, Sam and Cas are an underrated team. As for Team Free Dads, I’ve always had a soft spot for father/mentor figure characters and and all three tackle the role in different ways. I love Jack, too. I love how everyone in this bizarro family is “broken” in some way. We’ve got the Allistair’s prized pupil, the spawn of satan, the boy with demon blood, and the angel who nearly obliterated all of heaven. But they help each other heal by being supportive and seeing the good in each other. They all love each other so deeply and when together, nothing can stand in their way. Not Michael, not Lucifer, and not God himself. They tore up the book and wrote their own story. And it was a pleasure to watch it all unfold.

2. The Suppporting Characters

To list every single supporting character I have loved and lost in this show would take way too long. I don’t know if it’s the writing or acting performances, but I love pretty much every single supporting character on this show. Even villains like Azazel or Allistair are top-notch villains. Hell, I even like characters like Metatron, Lucifer, Mary, and John! Characters like Rufus, Charlie, Crowley, Rowena, Kevin, Ellen, Jo, Bobby, Gabriel, Balthazar, Mick...how am I not supposed to love them??? All of their stories were cut so short. I’d watch a show about any of these characters. The Wayward Sisters were robbed. So many ships were gone too soon (Sam/Rowena, Dean/Jo, Cas/Meg, Etc.). So many heartbreaking deaths. I want to be best friends with all these characters. Why be a “dean-girl” or a “sam-girl” when you can be a garth-girl? A kevin-girl? A claire-girl? A bela-girl? There are so many great characters with interesting and compelling backstories and so much untapped potential. I could go on forever on this, but I digress.This show has one of the best supporting casts I have ever had the pleasure of watching.

3. The Themes

It’s no accident that I got addicted to this show at the time that I did. Namely, my Senior Year of College and 2020. Graduating college and entering the “real world” felt like it’s own sort of apocalypse. 2020 definitely exacerbated my worst tendencies. Messages like “family don’t end in blood”, “you can write your own story”, and “always keep fighting” really resonated with me. I could definitely relate to the feelings of insecurity these character’s felt and the ways they suppressed/repressed their issues instead of facing them. I could relate to the feelings of not fitting in and I could definitely relate to the loneliness. This show helped remind me that I’m not alone. That it’s okay if my values and identity don’t line up with the what I envisioned for myself. And, most importantly, that there is a light at the end of the tunnel and that I should never give up. If Dean, Sam, and Cas can keep moving forward despite their demons and despite how bad it gets, so can I. Regardless of how the story ended, these themes resonated with me and I’ll still hold them with me. A single episode can’t take that away.

4. The Fun Episodes

This show has so many legendary standalone episodes. Changing Channels. Ghostfacers. The French Mistake. Fan Fiction. Tall Tales. Bad Day at Black Rock. When this show goes for the absurd, it goes all-in. It takes the risks it needs to take, it gets completely insane, and it pulls it off. So many of these episodes could have easily been the moment that the show “jumped the shark”. Yet, time after time, the show delivered on it’s potential. I don’t know how much I can say about these episodes except that they made me laugh out loud, made me fall even harder for these characters, and that they’re the episodes I remember best. If I were to rewatch any episode, it would be one of the fun ones. This show knew how to not take itself too seriously and how to poke fun at itself. I’ve always had a soft spot for shows that can make me laugh and cry (X-Files, Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel, Doctor Who, etc.), and this show definitely nails the fun part. 

5. The Sad Episodes

Death’s Door. Hammer of the Gods. Despair. Carry On. Abandon All Hope. In My Time of Dying. Swan Song. When this show wants you to cry, it doesn’t pull the punches. It gets downright devastating. No character is safe. Literally every character you love will either be forgotten or will die. Or both. The amount of trauma Sam and Dean have to go through is insane. Both have literally been to hell and back. Both have killed countless people, including innocents. When this show decides it wants to wreck you, it’s overwhelming. I sobbed when Bobby died. I sobbed when every single member of Team Free Will died for the final time (I still can’t watch any of those scenes). I still wish Jo, Ellen, Charlie, Kevin, Mick, and Gabriel had been given more time to tell their stories. Being a hunter means a life of endless angst. Being an angel or demon doesn’t get you off the hook, either. I remember going into this show thinking it couldn’t hurt me. My favorite character type is “mentor/father figure”. But holy hell...I don’t think every single sad moment was necessarily good writing, but when it was? Damn. 

6. The Biblical Themes

I’m not a relgious person. But, despite this show being steeped in Christian mythology, it really touched on my feelings about the Old Testament in a profound way. Well, really just Ben Edlund and Robbie Thompson did. I’ve never seen a show really hit the overall feel of the bible the way this show does. The idea of Angels as mystical and terrifying creatures. The idea of God as a flawed father figure with a penchant for wrath. The sheer epicness of the biblical stories. The idea of family members constantly being turned on each other. Cain and Abel. Jacob and Essau. Moses and Ramses. Moses and Aaron. Abraham and Isaac. The bible is full of stories of family drama. This show doesn’t always give angels and demons weight. Sometimes it’s silly and stupid and cheesy. But when it hits right? It’s epic. This is more of a personal thing I love about the show, but definitely a plus!

7. The Music

The early seasons music is so good. I really miss the classic rock of the golden era of the show. I mean, there are still some great musical moments later on, but damn. I loved hearing songs I recognized and I loved learning new songs. I loved when the song and the scene hit perfectly in time (Death’s intro. Cas’s return in Season 13.). Also Supernatural wouldn’t be Supernatural without the ‘Carry On My Wayward Son’ song at the end of every season. Even at the end of a season I didn’t love, that recap would always get me pumped. Also Chuck singing Fare Thee Well? Dean and Lee singing together? Fan Fiction? All great. 

8. The Cast & Crew

I never care about the actors or actresses in a show. I definitely don’t bother with the names of specific writers and directors or their styles of writing/directing. They’re just random people who happen to write for or play these characters I love. They’re not actually the characters. But these guys? Well, for one, I’m pretty sure half this cast actually is their character. At least to some degree. They’re also just...really cool people? Who are all friends? They make a point to do community service, to interact with fans, and to promote positive ideas. Jared’s Always Keep Fighting campaign. Misha and GISH. The fact that they all participate in fundraising opportunities and encourage fan engagement. Do they all have issues? Definitely. Have they said stupid things? Yes. But the good far outweighs the bad. They’re an entertaining bunch whether onscreen or not and I hope they all do well in whatever their future endeavors may be.  

9. The Fandom

I joined this fandom late. To be honest, I thought this fandom was obnoxious before I found myself a part of it. Now that I’ve been in the trenches? It’s got it’s ups and downs like any fandom. There are some parts that are more toxic than others. A lot of people yelling that their opinion is the only opinion. But overall? The good outweighs the bad. And the good? The good is great. Some fanfictions I’ve read are better than actual books I’ve read and just as moving. The fanart? Incredible. I love reading all the metas about random aspects of the show I never would have noticed. I love the music videos and I love the analytical videos. In real life, I’ve made many friends through our mutual love of this show. Hell, even getting sucked into GISH once or twice has given me some solid memories and brought me closer to friends. I wish all fandoms were this much like family. I’m so glad I got to be a part of this fandom and I can’t wait to continue being a fan. After all, nothing ever stays dead in Supernatural.

10. The Chaos & Insanity

Season 16 has been a time. First, Destiel went canon. Then suddenly Sherlock was having a 5th season, Putin was retiring, and Georgia was going blue. Destiel going “canon” and Joe Biden winning the presidency will always be correlated in my mind now. Things in the fandom went from quiet to blaringly loud real fast. Carry On happened. The fandom went into a civil war. I can’t even remember half of what happened in Season 16, but it’s been a wild ride. There’s been ups (my personal favorite being the french dub and the Saileen wedding). There’s been downs (Jared’s controversial statements and the original scripts being leaked). At one point Misha Collins had sex with Bill Clinton???? It’s been a wild time. It’s honestly gotten me through the end of this pandemic. At least it’s entertaining. I would say that at least all the craziness is over, but is it ever really over? Every time I say that something else completely insane happens. But it’s been fun. I’m glad I started watching this show despite my reservations and here’s to whatever happens next. 

[canonconspiracy]

The Prince and the Maid (Gabriel x Reader)

Fandom: Supernatural

Fanfiction By: @rmorningstar21​

Pairing: Gabriel x Reader

This is cross-posted between my AO3 and Wattpad (@rmorningstar21)

AN:  I am NOT bringing back Supernatural to stay quite yet, but I hope this little (well, not so little) one shot is enjoyable.  This has been sitting in my in progress fics for a while, and I thought since I had some time and inspiration, I would finish it up. 

"It's safer if we go together," Sam argued to Dean, as you had overheard while fetching yourself a cup of coffee, simply returning back to your room in the bunker.  Since Gabriel was back and bloodied, you were terrified to even look at the archangel.  You had missed him terribly, but that bloodied archangel was not the candy loving, flirtatious man that you fell in love with.  The first glimpse you had seen of him, you had to force yourself to stride out of the room, leaving the two men who were practically brothers to you alone with Ketch.  

Dean was adamant, from what you could hear, about Sam staying back, as he said, "Oh, theres no such thing as safer over there.  You know that."  You could practically hear how hard Sam had swallowed from his words, and you felt a pit in your heart, simply from not being courageous enough to tend to Gabriel.  As you were, you would be able to protect him, but seeing that bloodied shell of the man you loved brought you into tearful fits.  "I know you don't like this, okay? I don't expect you to.  Y/N isn't even able to look at Gabriel, though.  This is the way it's gonna be." 

Sucking in a deep, shaky breath, you emerged from your hiding with your coffee in hand, enjoying the fumes that brought comfort to you from the dark drink.  "Let Sam go," you said in a shaky tone.  "I'll take care of Gabe."  The two Winchester brothers gazes fell upon you, and could hear the urgency in your voice.  You could not keep hiding from Gabriel while he was injured, even with the mental and physical scars that Asmodeus had provided him.  "You two need each other, and I can keep him safe." 

"Are you sure about this, Y/N?" Sam said, sending you a worried glance with his brown hued eyes.  

They could both see that you were shaking, but you knew in your heart that you needed to do this.  Gabriel needed you, and it was selfish of you to simply hide from him.  You nodded, saying, "Please." 

The three of them begun quick work on the spell that they had needed to open the portal to the other world, while you took your first steps to taking care of Gabriel - merely by sitting in the chair beside him, your eyes fighting back the tears that threatened to drip down your face.  Though Gabriel would not understand them, you needed to at least wait until the Winchester boys were gone, instead of giving them the opportunity to change their minds.  

Your eyes rolled softly over his bloodied features, starting with his matted hair that was once the handsome dirty blond that you would dream of swiftly allowing your fingers to trail through.  From there, your eyes landed upon his face, specifically the bloodied mess that blemished his handsome skin, followed by the vacant look in his previously radiant whiskey eyes.  It killed you to look at, but you knew it was necessary.  He was scared, and you could see that in those saddening eyes.

You waited until the Winchester boys had left through the portal with Ketch before you had tried to do any more than stare.  When they had disappeared into the portal, you had already given up and abandoned your coffee that was sitting on the table.  All of your focus was planned to help Gabriel, and you were determined to do so in steps.    

"May I take you to your room?" You whispered gently, knowing you would not actually get a response from him.  He cowered, but you carefully and gently coerced him to walk with you, which you were thankful was not a long walk.  Normally, when you had accidentally found yourself against Gabriel's vessel, it was comforting and made you feel at peace.  This, unfortunately, was not peaceful, though.  

When you had gotten him to his room, he had immediately scurried himself to a far corner of it.  Castiel would not be around until later to attempt to help place the grace back into Gabriel, so you had plenty of time to kill while watching the archangel before you would even begin to get through to him.  You took the chair from the side of the room and sat upon it backwards, leaning against the back of it with your chest as you thought of the words you could possibly say to him.  

Part of you wanted to talk simply to fill the empty that was in the room without his charm.  "Gabriel," you said softly, though you knew he would not look at you, nor recognize who you were.  "May I tell you a story?"  You waited a moment, though you planned to continue to talk regardless, knowing he would not answer you.  "Once upon a time, there was a girl that never thought she was that special.  She was merely a maid, orphaned at a young age.  To keep herself alive, she would work for various people, but this one family would always bring her back.  One day, the family brought her to clean up a mess before a prince visited.  She had the honor of meeting that prince as she was leaving, and he had seemed to show up at the home that she cleaned whenever she was cleaning.  The maid begun falling in love with the prince, though she knew that she shouldn't.  Over time, she had learned that the prince was wild - one that could not be tamed by the concept of love.  He would spend a night with a different woman almost nightly, and the maid begun to loathe herself for falling in love with the prince.  Regardless of her actions, she was in love with him nonetheless, and knew, despite his desire to sleep with the world, that he was a man of kind heart.  She kept her feelings from the prince, and always kept him at arms length.  When she finally managed to get the courage to tell the prince, he was gone before she could ever tell him." 

When you had finished telling the story, you had tears in your eyes, and you glanced over to the man whom was at least staring back at you with his sad eyes.  "I really missed you, Gabriel, and I would have personally toppled Hell if I knew," you murmured out softly.  "I can't tell you when you're coherent, but that story is the best way for me to convey how I've felt for you." 

Hearing a soft knock at the door, you ended up getting up slowly, making your way over to the door and turning the handle slowly, just to make sure not to startle Gabriel.  When you opened it all the way, you were face to face with Castiel, who had a light smile upon his face, and a plate that held a capsule of Gabriel's archangel grace.  Before you were able to do anything more than smile, Castiel said, "I didn't want to interrupt your story." 

You could not help but let some blush tint your face as you let him into the room and let your eyes flicker over to Gabriel.  "You've known, though, haven't you?" You said, allowing your eyes to flicker back over to Castiel. 

"I'm pretty sure everyone besides Gabriel knew," Castiel said with a half smile, attempting to be comforting.  "The Winchesters did not tell me he was this bad, though."  Castiel's eyes loomed over Gabriel, and he was now no longer looking at you because of the extra presence in the room.  Instead, he was huddled up in the corner once more, which made your smile drop.  

"Once he's better again, I'm going after that fucking asshole," you said lowly, in a hushed tone.  "I would have rathered having him running around avoiding the apocalypse than going through what did this." 

You slowly made your way over to Gabriel, coaxing him carefully, though he just kept trying to hide.  "Shh, Gabriel," you said softly.  "Its okay, I just want to move you to your bed." As you said it, you were able to get your arm underneath his own, hoisting him up onto the bed as gently as possible.  You treated him as glass, because you simply did not want to hurt the already broken archangel in front of you.  

"It would not be wise going after Asmodeus," Castiel warned you, a frown prominent against his lips.  

"I know," you said with a straight face, before you carefully grabbed the archangel grace from the plate it was sitting upon, opening the capsule.  As you turned to Gabriel, you watched him cower once more, but gently you reached out to him.  "I would never hurt you, Gabriel," you reassured him.  "Your grace should help you feel better."  

Castiel watched in awe as you gently coaxed Gabriel, taking it step by step as slowly as possible.  You brought the capsule closer to his face, but before you got too close, you asked him, "May I?"  Gabriel was hesitant at you getting anywhere near his likely sore lips, backing away as you got closer.  As he backed away, you did as well slowly.  

After a dance back and forth of trying to coerce Gabriel to open his mouth, you finally managed to get him to do so the slightest bit.  As he did, you poured the archangel grace into him, avoiding his pained lips as you did.  "It's going to take a while for him to recover," Castiel said gently, looking over his broken brother.  

You simply nodded gently, and smiled at Gabriel.  Castiel ended up leaving the room, and you had given Gabriel his space, setting yourself back up at the chair you were sitting at prior.  Mentally, you noted to yourself that Gabriel did not move from the bed after you had moved to the chair, and you had admittedly seen him glancing your direction once or twice.  He still looked very beaten, worn down, but somehow it seemed like he was recognizing you more.  

*** 

You had fallen asleep at the chair that you were sitting at while in Gabriel's room.  As you woke, you noticed a difference in the room, and a difference with your position.  While you were still on the chair, you felt a light cloth was gently wrapped around your body, and as your eyes scanned the room, apparently Gabriel had written in enochian all over the walls of the room the two of you were in.  

He was curled in a ball on the bed as you stood, gently folding the blanket before truly scanning the room.  Though Castiel had taught you the smallest bit of enochian, you were not at a readable level for any of it, so you ended up calling him.  It did not take long for him to get to the bunker, and he begun reading Gabriel's story to you.  

The story around you explained about how Asmodeus used Gabriel, beat him, and so very much more.  Castiel had explained that he was caught while in hiding after faking his death. It was more than a depressing turn of events, despite the fact that the part about the porn stars hurt almost nearly as much as Gabriel's torment.  Once Castiel was done, you had been speechless.  Since Castiel had matters to attend to in heaven, you were once again left alone with Gabriel.  

You strode a little closer to him than the chair, but not enough to scare him.  "Gabriel...I can't even imagine what you went through," you whispered finally, your voice shaky.  "And I understand why you didn't want to be a part of the last apocalypse.  You have to dig yourself out of this hole, though.  You may think it's so much safer- no more torture, no more pain, and no more expectations.  I've been there.  You're nothing like your family, and I wasn't either.  I got out, or you know, I thought I did, and then the people that I gave a shit about needed me.  Those people turned into my family, and this turned into my life, no matter how many times I fought it.  Sure, hookers and Monte carlo sounds great- peaceful, even. Your family needs you, though.  Jack, your nephew, needs you.  The world needs you.  Sam and Dean need you."  You paused, taking in a deep breath, your eyes tearing up a bit.  "Hell, Gabriel, I need you.  More than you'll ever know.  So, please, help us." 

You felt yourself tearing up more, and you glanced to the ground.  After a few moments of standing there, for some reason thinking that he may answer you, you begun to walk away.  Your emotions flowed around your mind, and you needed to go somewhere that you weren't around the muted archangel.  

As you were just about to turn the handle, hand already gripping the cold metal, his graveled voice said, "Porn stars." 

At the sound of his voice, you turned yourself back around, glancing at the beaten archangel.  "Porn stars?" You said, suppressing a chuckle that wanted to emit from your mouth.  

"They were porn stars, not hookers," he corrected, his voice seeming a little forced, but audible nonetheless.  Slyly, his lips turned into a gentle smirk, glancing up at you with his whiskey colored eyes.  For a moment, there was simply silence between the two of you, trying to place two and two together as he simply stared at you.  

Finally, the words slipped past your lips, a smile forming against them.  "You're back, Gabe," you choked out, feeling as if you were simply going to cry of sorrowful joy as you knew you could not simply run to the archangel.  Nonetheless, he was back, and you could feel your heart pattering in your chest.  

"Not at one hundred percent, Sugar," he replied softly.  "But don't think I didn't hear your story." 

You could feel your cheeks heated with blush at his words, and your y/e/c eyes slipped to the floor uncomfortably.  The story that you told him was your little confession when you thought he was not coherent enough to understand it, and yet, you had been wrong.  Swallowing hard, you bit your lip silently.  

"I wasn't a fan of the ending," he said slyly, causing you to simply gape at him.  "I think once the maid allows the prince to heal, he should get a kiss.  I'm more of a fan of happy endings." 

You rolled your eyes, though the blush upon your face darkened at his words.  "I'm sure that could be arranged, my Prince," you teased him softly, before carefully walking back over to him.  "In the meantime, you should get some rest, though." 

[wafflewarriors]

Quality FanFiction Recommendations!

Quarantined? Bored? Itching to read? I have just the thing for you. I have around 100+ fanfic recommendations with descriptions!!! Yay!

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Disclaimer: None of what is below is mine. Not even the descriptions. :)

I have read all of these though and I can promise they are very good!

WARNING = Possibly triggering. Rather be safe than sorry, but you can certainly ignore these.

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Fics for Superwholock, Supernatural, Doctor Who, Avengers, Merlin, Sherlock and Miscellaneous below.

Superwholock (and Variations)

Second Chances: When Sam Winchester finds himself stuck in New York City with new abilities he doesn’t know how to use and a recent life-changing event he can’t remember, the last thing he expects is to find friends and allies in the city’s resident heroes. But Sam isn’t the only new arrival to New York: the supernatural world doesn’t want to let Sam go, and their plans extend beyond just Sam and the city. Sam is going to have to bring together every hero he can to save New York—and maybe along the way, he can save himself, too.

New York City has been referred to as the City of Dreams, but for Sam Winchester, it’s more than that—it’s also the City of Second Chances. (VERY VERY GOOD AND STILL UPDATING; I’M STILL READING IT)

Breaking the Cycle: The TARDIS materializes at the Broward County Mystery Spot on a Tuesday.

The Other Loki: There’s a new Trickster in town. Tony and the other Avengers aren’t sure what to make of him.

The Tomato in the Mirror: Loki body-swaps with Sam. Later, things get weird.

Don't Blink? No Problem: Castiel meets a Weeping Angel. It's not a fair fight.

Supernatural

Road Song: Dean attempts to calm the reader with a drive in the Impala after a night filled with nightmares.

WARNING Cabin Fever: When you’ve been cooped up with the Winchesters for too long your plan to get an hour away from them takes a terrible turn for the worse.

Cold as Ice: After an accident, Dean and the reader find themselves stuck in the woods during a storm.

Counting the Days: The world was overrun by the Croatoan virus, Sam said ‘yes’ to Lucifer, and Dean hasn’t talked to his brother in five years. One of these things is not like the others.

WARNING You Bleed, I Bleed: Dean confronts you, and tells you that from now on, anything you do to yourself, he will do to himself. Because he just can’t stand to see you hurting, alone in your pain.

Imagine Winchester Saving You From Jack Frost: (no description) “Ice crystals blossomed across your skin, growing and claiming your body as it’s own. You were glistening, the frost reflecting the evening sun like millions of stars. The beauty of winter dominated your body, sprouted from your neck, your neck that had gelid fingers curled around it.”

Tired and Scared: So, backstory is that the reader is doing some sort of a quest and it’s doing bad stuff to her, sort of like Sam and the trials.

I Think I Might Need You: Dr. Jade Thorpe is a strong, independent woman. It’s how she defines herself, the lens through which she views the world. So when everything she knows and has drops out from under her, she has nowhere to turn but to three men who she’s never met, who she will grow to know as, “the f****** Winchesters and that goddamn angel.”

NSFW All Your Pretty Lies: The first time you meet Dean Winchester he almost kills you. Don’t all healthy relationships start with attempted murder?

WARNING You are the Blood in my Veins: You’ve been dealing with self harm for years, the brothers don’t know yet and you don’t know how much more you can take.

Long I Stood: [Endverse!AU] After his phone call with Dean in “The End,” Sam is exhausted. Still recovering from his near-relapse when hunters Reggie Hull and Tim Janklow tried to force him to drink demon blood and unwilling to fall into bed because Lucifer is waiting in his head, Sam sets off running.

He runs straight into the end of the world, where Zachariah tells him that this is where his choices will inevitably lead him unless he plays his part. Sam finds unexpected allies in the survivors at Camp Chitaqua, and maybe―just maybe―there’s still reason for hope. Maybe they won’t always wind up here. Not if Sam has his say.

When Summoning, Please Watch the Wording: (A strange crossover of Supernatural and Good Omens. I don’t even know if it’s canonically correct but it was very entertaining.)

Find the Light: This is the first part of a series! Sam and Dean discover Y/N as a victim of a Djinn.

In the Quiet Moments: Being stuck in your own horrible inner thoughts is hard. It’s even harder to when those thoughts feel more and more real. Sometimes, you need someone to pull you back to reality and remind you of your worth. 

Waiting: The reader is seriously injured on a hunt. Sam and Dean take you to Bobby’s so he can patch you up. Dean is freaked to Hell.

WARNING Chink in the Armor: Dean Winchester, in the years following Sam’s departure for college, was not a very stable individual.

WARNING Trust Us: You get kidnapped by the two mass murderers you’ve seen on TV, Sam and Dean Winchester. But are they as bad as they are made out to be?

Heavy Sleeper: Imagine Sam and Dean finding the reader asleep in the impala after a long hunt.

Period Pains: The reader has her period worse than usual and Dean takes note, taking care of her in anyway he can. (so cute)

Headache: Reader has a migraine and Sam and Dean don’t realize it and are annoying.

Through the Dark: You finally go on your first hunt, accompanying Sam and Dean. The experience leaves you haunted and Dean does his best to comfort you.

WARNING Be Free: AU from end of Southern Comfort. Sam takes Dean’s words to heart, his mind throwing in its own two cents. Believing it is what will make Dean happy, Sam runs and becomes untraceable until it is almost too late. Dean calls in any help he can to find his brother, including angelic assistance. But finding someone with the knowledge Sam has, and who doesn’t want to be found, the remaining members of Team Free Will better pull out all the stops, and fast.

Imagine Falling Asleep While Watching TV with Dean One Shot: Exhaustion. That was the sign of a hunt well done.

Finding Out You Made a Crossroad’s Deal to Save Him: (no description; preference)

Selfish Motives: Imagine taking a bullet for Dean and he gets emotional while patching you up.

WARNING Reflection: A dark time from the reader’s past comes to light.

Shattered: “The one you shattered? I can fix it.” He said, hand already hovering over your hip. It wasn’t the first time you’d had this conversation, you had the unfortunate feeling it wouldn’t be the last. (tooth-rotting fluff)

Protection Detail: “You’re okay, you’re safe.” The man driving spoke softly. Something about the deep timbre of his voice sounded familiar and strangely comforting. You’d heard it before, but couldn’t for the life of you figure out where or when. There was sincerity in his tone- he truly believed what he was saying. Safe. Too bad he’s wrong. He couldn’t possibly know who you were running from or what they’d done to you. Even worse, what they’d do to him for getting in the way. He was in far over his head and it would only get him killed.

WARNING If Anything Happened to You: After jumping in front of the gun one too many times, the Winchester’s are wondering if there is something more to it than just saving them.

He Isn’t Heavy, He’s My Brother: What happens when the boys are stranded and one of them becomes violently ill? (it’s dean)

You Can’t Rule with a Broken Upper Hand: Successfully killing Lilith and keeping Dean out of Hell has the brothers ready for a good, old-fashioned, hunter-on-demon brawl. It’s time to get back to the basics, back to the way things used to be, when monsters got ganked and that was the end of things. That said, they are not ready for a new kind of creature to appear in the middle of their fight, covered in blood and begging for mercy they aren’t supposed to give.

Meanwhile, Castiel is panicking. He’s been tortured senseless for four decades straight, and now he’s been thrown down in front of two hunters. If he thought his brothers were bad… well, all angels knew how cruel hunters were… and Castiel has no idea how to convince them he doesn’t need to be, in the shorter one’s words, ganked.

Forgotten: Sam and Dean are working a case in Wyoming, but are distracted by news of a dangerous angel called “Castiel” who they can’t remember ever having heard of before. The name seems a little bit familiar, but neither of the boys is sure why. (THIS ONE IS SO GOOD)

Bronco: Reader goes on a hunt alone and hides more serious injuries from Sam and Dean. She heads to Bobby’s to recover only to have the boys show up shortly after. (I love this one)

WARNING We As Human: Sam has been struggling with depression since Stanford. Well, not really struggling. Excelling. He’s been excelling at depression since Stanford, and it’s only gotten worse since he started hunting again. Unfortunately, the relapses from John’s death and Dean’s trip to Hell were bad, but they had nothing on the downward spiral triggered by Sam starting the Apocalypse.

But Sam has never come clean before, and he isn’t about to start. He’s self-medicating, he’s suppressing, and he’s handling things in the Trademark Winchester Way. He can do this. He can totally do this.

Spoiler: No, he can’t.

WARNING Stop the Clock: Being cooped up in the bunker with the Men of Letters archive at your fingertips, you’re now the go-to person for help with lore. But having so many hunters depend on you is overwhelming. You don’t have enough time for yourself and you’ve reached a breaking point. (Dean holding you after a panic attack and comforting you.)

WARNING Chance Encounters: You are running. As a hunter, it seems like you are always running. Whether it be toward an enemy or away. You find yourself in a bar and are saved by Sam and Dean. As Dean gets curious about you, you start to fall for him. With all that is going on with the boys, you offer to help.

Come Hell or Highwater: Oneshot where the reader is stranded on a little boat in the middle of the ocean with one of the boys, and has a super repressed fear of water.

Blood and Tears: The reader is having really bad period cramps, and Dean doesn’t know how to help. (vulgar)

Deep thoughts: When the Winchesters find her, strung up and tortured by a demon, they realize she’s something more than an average human. Sam’s curious, Dean’s apprehensive, and Elise knows everything - because she can hear their thoughts.

Walkie-Talkies: The reader and Dean have to wait out a blizzard at a motel. Question is: will things heat up or not?

Ruination: The night Dean kicks him out of the bunker, Castiel has to find shelter from the rain. But he unwittingly stumbles across a monster’s lair and is caught…and as far as he knows, no one’s looking for him. Meanwhile, Sam’s not buying Dean’s story about why Cas left, and he won’t be satisfied until he finds some answers. Assuming the ex-angel lasts that long.

One Saved Message: After a hunting accident puts Sam out of commission for a couple of days, Dean decides to surprise his brother with a new phone, since his old one is toast. Even better is when he finds that he’s been able to save all of Sam’s old information and restore it to his cell. That’s when he discovers an old voicemail that Sam has kept saved for the last two and a half years… (Voicemail fix-it)

Stargazing: Sam used to want something for himself. Voicemail and amulet fix-it.

Desolation Angels: She slides into the passenger seat and shuts the door as he throws the car into drive. He speeds down the empty highway, deftly avoiding the dead cars dotting the asphalt. // AU starting at the end of AHBL Part One. (An exercise in character study.)

Lullaby: Imagine TFW finding out that the sleeping pills you take every night don’t stop the nightmares; they just keep you from screaming.

Worth It: Tag to Plucky Pennywhistle’s. When they get back to the motel room, Dean discovers Sam’s been hiding his injuries.

Avengers

Fallen Hero: A five part story of Peter and Tony’s relationship beyond what we’re shown in the MCU. If you’re into having your heart shredded and crying yourself to sleep, this is for you.

Five Times Peter Said ‘Sorry’ to Mr.Stark: …and the one time he didn’t have to.

Marvel Masterlist: This Masterlist includes Avengers and the Hell’s Kitchen Boys (Defenders and Punisher).

WARNING Dumb Luck: Having a panic attack during your flight wasn’t part of the plan. Lucky for you your seatmates are there to save the day.

Identity Theft: An organically developed, platonic slow-burn of Avengers-fam dynamic with a heavy hand of Irondad & Spiderson. Throw in an overdose of whump, a couple of cunning villains and a big-bad hiding in the shadows, and you got yourself this hot mess.

WARNING The Homes We Make: Peter Parker isn’t the type of boy to run crying to Tony Stark because he can’t handle a punch. Michelle Jones and Ned Leeds aren’t the type of friends to ignore Peter’s rapidly declining health. Eugene “Flash” Thompson isn’t an idiot.

Division of the Heart: Tony Stark is sick. Surely that’s not going to be a problem? When he doesn’t tell the team a normal cold is a little more complicated with the Arc Reactor, things get a little out of hand.

Doctor Who

WARNING Reasons: The Doctor comforts his companion when she sees a familiar face, a face she wishes she could forget.

Time to Let Go: ANGST ANGST ANGST :)

Flowers for Words: This is a little… darker than my usual. There’s kinda graphic descriptions of bloody things, so this ain’t for the squeamish.

WARNING Trust: After running away from your abusive father, you find yourself in the dark and all alone. That is, until a strange man approaches you.

Stolen: The Doctor left Rose in the other universe with the Meta-Crisis Doctor to give her a chance at a normal life. Now he’s come back to get her, and the knowledge of what she’s been put through will drive him temporarily mad.

Vision: (no description but I can tell you it’s good)

Waving Through History: The Doctor will never see her again, but that doesn’t mean she can’t see him again. // Seven times Amy and Rory visit the past Doctor and one time Amy sees the future Doctor. Post-Angels, 1930-1988.

Trapped in an Elevator: You are late for work when you become trapped in an elevator with the Eleventh Doctor.

The Curious Case of the Doctor and the Cat: Master of the Seven Blocks Rusty Grr'wa is a cat, a Good Boy with a simple life. He must protect and patrol his Seven Blocks, generously let select People pet his incredible fur, and look after the Stacy, the Mum, and the Dad. Then he runs into not-People the Doctor and the Doctor’s Clara Oswald. And then they must all deal with the Sky-thing. (crack)

Afraid of the Dark: It was quiet. That was the first thing that truly caught your attention.

Reality: A more realistic story of a whovian getting stuck in the “Doctor Who” universe. This isn’t the typical “Yay, I met the Doctor” story. If you suddenly found out the Doctor was real, wouldn’t you be a little scared? That would mean all the monsters were real too!

WARNING Psycho Savior: A young woman contemplates suicide by power steering fluid. An attempt to subvert the fan cliche in which the Doctor talks someone out of suicide.

Cold Comfort: The Doctor had his back turned, so he didn’t see how badly Rose’s hands shook as she wrapped them around the thick mug.

Human: The doctor decides it’s not safe for you to travel with him anymore, so he tries to push you away.

Pretty Girl: (no description) “I’m not beautiful,” you say one day.

WARNING: Knock Three Times: Two perfect strangers wake to find themselves being held in adjacent prison cells with no memories of who they are or how they got there. It isn’t until they are faced with agonizing trials that push the limits of self-sacrifice to new horrific heights, that they realize just what they’re facing and how much they will need to trust each other in order to survive.

WARNING Better Now: (no description)

Stellar Storytime: (no description)

Merlin

Deep in the Diamond of the Day: What if Merlin was the one to sustain the mortal injuries during the Battle of Camlann, not Arthur? Will the Once and Future King be able to save his friend? More importantly, will he WANT to after finally discovering Merlin’s secret? A fix-it fic for the series finale, which shattered my soul.

Allow One to ‘See’: When the King is attacked in his tent on patrol and falls into an unending sleep everyone is worried. What they don’t know is that Arthur is fine. In fact he is standing right here next to them, watching them all fret over his prone body. To stave off the boredom whilst a cure is found Arthur takes to wandering the castle and soon discovered a hidden side of Camelot he never knew about.

Or: Arthur’s soul gets trapped outside his body and takes to following his servant around. He gets an interesting insight into Merlin, his servant’s life and just how much Camelot needs the man.

Peace for Our Time: Merlin froze for several seconds before squinting at Arthur across the table. “I feel like I’m definitely misunderstanding the situation here.”

Arthur sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I really don’t think you are.”

“You want me to learn magic?”

In a Name: In the middle of some quest or another, Merlin, Arthur and the knights find themselves stuck in the middle of a shrine being told that, if they wish to proceed unharmed, they need only speak their true names and titles. Straight-forward enough, right? Wrong. Merlin really hates the Old Religion sometimes.

Sherlock

WARNING Write Love on Her Arms: (no description)

Spiderman Into the Spider-verse

Ground Zero: Basically, the plot of Spider-Man; Into the Spiderverse if they all got sent to Peter B.’s universe instead of Miles’

Stranger Things

Bleeding: Hopper confronts Reader seven weeks after she left Hawkins.

Timeless

All These Tears I’ve Cried: A snapshot of Lucy’s nightmares, and the aftermath of each. Loosely set between 2x05 and 2x06.

Detroit: Become Human

Skip-able NSFW Leap: Amanda thinks she’s won, but Connor has one last trick up his sleeve. He’s determined to find someone who can fix him and get rid of CyberLife’s influence once and for all. And of course that person is a human woman, the owner of a small android repairshop in downtown Detroit. And she’s not happy about the deviant android who’s just broken in, but necessity dictates she help CyberLife���s most sophisticated prototype escape his chains. With her help, Connor soon discovers what fills the void between the lines of his code.

The Good Doctor

Do No Harm: Shaun is a doctor. He heals the sick and injured, and he takes care of people that need his help. He made this vow in full, understanding the responsibility he was taking on. So, when the bus swerved, when it crashed and flipped, it came as second nature to him. Despite his pain, and despite his injuries, he still pushed himself to do as much as he could for those around him. And he did. Without hesitation, he tried to save as many people as possible. And in doing do, he wasn’t able to save himself.

[xwaywardhuntress]

Family Don’t End In Blood (Part Five)

Summary: Team FreeWill meets the end?

Pairings: Dean x reader

Warnings: Season 14 finale spoilers. Language. Killings

Word Count: 3200+

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. This is fanfiction only. Please do not redistribute my writings on other sites, horrible or not. Thanks!

Part One, Two, Three, Four

“Welcome to the end.”

The ground continued to shake as the flying shadow figures became the cause of the tombstones exploding. Y/N held Jack’s lifeless body in her arms. The kid was gone. Chuck had got what he wanted and that fact pissed her off to no limit. She would get revenge for this, even if it was God himself that would be the enemy. Screw existence when existence only seemed to screw with her and the ones she cared for.

“What did Chuck do?!” Sam inquired aloud, holding his shoulder where the shot at Chuck backfired onto him.

“I….don’t know.” The angel answered as he stood up and continued to look around at the chaos that was unraveling around all of them. He seemed to have become aware of something happening in the not-too-far-off distance as he gazed outwardly at particularly nothing.

Y/N had noticed Cas’s distant look, “What is it Cas?”

“It’s hell.” He stated rather calmly. “It’s been open.”

The moment the angel was done speaking, one of the nearby tombstones exploded. The sound of a moan followed. Everyone looked in the direction of the human sound as they saw a beaten boned hand reach out from the ground pulling itself up and the dead body attached with it. The moans multiplied, some were groans and the rest were unnatural noises.

Witnessing dead bodies unburying themselves, Y/N gently laid Jack’s body on the ground as she stood up as well. “What the hell is happening? Did we just enter the walking dead?”

Despite the situation, Sam found himself narrowing his eyes. “Zombies aren’t real. At least not without some kind of necromancy behind it.”

“Right. So then what is happening right now is totally not a zombie apocalypse?” Y/N sarcastically asked aloud as the number of undead increased above ground.

Meanwhile, Dean had eyed a grave site fence nearby as he made his way over to it, breaking enough pieces of it off for the remaining living to protect themselves with. He hurried back to the group, who had found themselves circling Jack’s body. Handing each of them a piece he broke off from the gravesite fence, Dean held his piece in an attack position. “Alright, enough talking. More planning. What’s the plan to get out of this?” The older Winchester asked aloud.

“Swing for their heads. Decapitate them. That’s how zombies usually die in movies and tv shows.” Y/N answered. As much as she wasn’t trying to sound sarcastic, she still did.

“Sounds good to me.” Dean replied as the hoard of undead grew closer. “Stay together as best as you can.”

Everyone nodded in agreement as the hoard had begun reaching them. The first one came at Y/N. She swung her weapon straight across the dead man’s neck, beheading him. Unfortunately, the body kept moving towards her as she found herself kicking it away. The headless body tumbled backward, its legs breaking off which finally left the body stranded on the ground unable to bring itself back up. Glancing at the head by itself, she noticed its face was still moving. Each part separated from the main body part seemed to be alive still. Maybe they weren’t zombies. “Shit…” She mumbled under her breath as she found herself repeating her previous actions, but this time after beheading them, she went for the legs too.

Realizing the undead may not have been zombies, but something worse, as they weren’t dying after being beheaded, Y/N tried to catch how the others were doing. Everyone had been busy fighting off the undead but also seemed to realize that breaking as much body parts off and leaving them unable to get back up seemed to be the right move.

It felt like they had been at this for hours already, but in reality, it had only been about 10 minutes. There were too many and after everything that had happened, they didn’t have the stamina to keep going for long. The circle they created around Jack had grown smaller since earlier, each of them was just a footstep away from actually stepping on the Nephilim.

“Guys!” She called out to the others. “We can’t keep going on like this for long!”

“She’s right.” Sam agreed as he could feel the shot in his shoulder from earlier slowing him down. “We need to find a way out.”

“Kind of busy here.” Dean argued, slicing another undead head off.

Y/N was aware that everyone was busy fighting for their lives. With Sam injured and everyone else, besides her, being thrown around by Chuck earlier, they needed to figure a way to get out of there first. Of course, they had to figure out a way to bring Jack’s body with them as well.

Being in the moment of fighting to stay alive, there was one get out of the zombie apocalypse free card that everyone must’ve forgotten, including the card holder itself. “Cas!” She called out again, changing her movements towards the angel. “Can you zap us out of here?”

“I can try, but only two at a time.” The angel shared. He couldn’t explain how, but ever since Jack healed him from the gorgon’s poison, he had been able to teleport again, sort of. It seemed to be very limited, so he only used it in case of emergency. At least, when he felt it was emergency.

Overhearing Y/N and Cas, Dean yelled out, “Get the kid’s body and Sam out of here first!”

“No!” Sam disagreed. “I’m not leaving you guys. I can fight.”

“Sam…you’re injured. Dean and I can probably hold out longer for Cas to come back and get us.” She tried reasoning with the younger brother.

“My thoughts exactly.” The older brother admitted.

Sam didn’t want to leave them but he knew they were right. “Fine.”

Y/N moved to try to cover both her spot and Cas’s spot as the angel went behind her. He placed one hand on Jack and the other on Sam’s leg. In a blink of an eye, they were gone.

Y/N and Dean had ended up scooting back to back with each other as they continued to fight off the undead.

“I’m sorry!” Dean yelled out of the blue.

“Now’s not the time, Dean.” She shouted back, kicking away another headless undead.

“But if we don’t make it out of this alive…”

“DEAN, Cas is going to come back for us any minute now.”

“Still, I’m sorry for the way I acted...” He sliced off the arms of the nearest undead that had been attacking him. “…Jack was never a monster…” Dean spotted an undead running towards your blind spot as he turned to stab it through the head and kicked it off, slicing its legs off. “…the one who was acting like a monster was me.”

Y/N had been busy trying to keep the undead off of herself from multiple angles. “Dean…really, now is not the time.” She gruffly spoke, beheading another.

Before the older Winchester could continue his apology, Y/N spotted Castiel on the other side of the hoard that was attacking them. “Cas is back!” She announced. “Over there!” She assumed there must’ve been no room to appear beside her and Dean as they were basically back to back fighting.

Dean spotted the angel, “Damn it. Let’s try to move toward him.”

Y/N agreed as she began stepping in the direction of the angel with Dean right behind her.

As they grew closer, the undead started to notice Cas as they made their way towards him as well. Both Y/N and Dean needed to make it to their friend fast before he was overcome by a hoard too. The undead that did seem to notice Cas, left a very small opening, but an opening nonetheless.

“Dean!” Y/N called out, nodding her head in the direction of Cas and the small opening for them.

“Next zombie that comes at you from the direction of where Cas is, Stab him!” Dean yelled. He had an idea, it wasn’t the best idea, but it was an idea.

When an undead came at Y/N from the direction Cas was at, she did as Dean told her and stabbed the undead through the gut. She immediately felt a body press against her back and one arm around her waist. “Run.” Dean’s voice spoke by her ear as they both began running, using the dead body she had stabbed earlier as a shield of sorts.

They had almost reached Castiel when the dead body on Y/N’s weapon seemed to have been getting closer to them. The weapon had been almost pushed through the creature.

Dean spoke beside her ear again. “Get ready to drop it and then run like a hell. I’ll be right behind you.”

Y/N nodded as she let go of her weapon after swinging it aside with the dead body still attached, as best as she could. She bolted to reach Cas, who was fighting a few off as well. Hearing footsteps right behind her, she knew Dean was keeping to his word. 

Right before reaching Cas, an undead appeared before her. Without a weapon, Y/N used her body to slam into it as she found herself bringing it down on the ground, as well as herself. The undead turned towards her, trying to crawl on top of her.

“Y/N!” Dean yelled for her as he found himself standing before her but unable to help her as he was fighting to keep more of the undead from reaching her on the ground.

Castiel witnessed Y/N’s and Dean’s attempt to reach him. He too had tried to make it easier by heading towards them. Eventually, the angel made it to them both, kicking the one dead body on the ground away from Y/N. He took her hand and then called out for Dean, who placed his own hand on the angel’s shoulder. In another blink of an eye, they were back at the bunker.

Unfortunately, one of the undead seemed to have grabbed onto Dean as Cas whisked them away.

From out of the blue, the undead that hitched a ride was beheaded and its legs broke off, leaving the body parts scattered on the bunker floor, still moving.

Sam had looked relieved as he spotted his brother and Y/N after getting rid of the hitchhiker. “What took you guys so long?!”

Castiel helped Y/N back onto her feet as she replied, “There were long distance complications.”

The younger Winchester looked at her confused as he looked over at his brother.

“Cas had to appear in a different spot and then Y/N and I had to get to him.” Dean clarified.

While the boys began discussing what in the world they were fighting against, as it didn’t seem like the typical zombies, Y/N spotted Jack’s lifeless body on the ground behind Sam. Even though they made it out alive from whatever Chuck had planned, they had still lost Jack. 

Another loss in the books.

Looking away from the Nephilim's body, Y/N walked past the boys, “I’m going to go shower.” She stopped for a moment to take another glance at Jack’s dead body, then continued on looking as defeated as ever.

Dean had seen the way she looked at Jack’s body. It was one that probably mirrored his own when Mary died. He decided he would give her some space as he began picking up the body parts, planning to put the parts away in a box or crate for now. Sam decided he would go use his own shower as well and then would need help patching his shoulder up, to which Dean voluntarily signed himself up for. Castiel decided to move Jack’s body in a more comfortable setting, the same bed that was used when Jack got sick.

Everyone had seemed to need something to do to keep their minds off of everything that just happened, at least just for a little while.

Taking one of the longest showers ever, Y/N fingers had turned pruney. Her sadness had turned into revenge as she recalled everything that had happened in the past 24 hours. There was no time for crying, but only action. Throwing on some clothes, she exited out of the shared bedroom as she approached Sam’s room. She heard Dean’s voice come from the younger Winchester’s room as she came to a stop and began listening in.

“Are you going to talk to her?” Sam asked his brother, getting help from him in patching up his shoulder.

“Not now. I’ll give her some space. Jack meant a lot to her. After all, I’m part of the reason the kid’s dead.” Dean replied.

“That’s not true. This was all Chuck, not you. Y/N would say the same.” Sam refuted.

“Sammy, you don’t understand. The moment that Chuck made the gun to kill Jack, I had every intention to follow through with Chuck’s plan.”

“But you didn’t, we all saw that. Y/N saw that.”

Dean didn’t respond to his brother as he continued to wrap his shoulder up.

“You need to talk to her after this, man. She’s going to need you as much as you needed her after mom died. Hell, knowing how similar you two are, she’ll want to go after Chuck right away. Just like how you wanted to go after Jack.” Sam explained. “I’d do it myself and go to her, but I’m not what she needs. You are.”

Sam knew Y/n pretty well, but he also knew Dean just as well. Dean was torturing himself mentally as usual. Y/N had nothing to do with his mom’s death. At the time, he was able to put the sole blame on Jack, which of course he regretted now. Jack’s death was different, even if he didn’t pull the trigger, he still played some part in the Nephilim's death. That was a fact that Dean convinced himself of no matter what Sam would say.

Y/N was aware that this outcome was very likely to happen. Dean would always guilt trip himself after something bad had happened. Even though she would normally try to convince Dean or assure him that she forgave him for whatever stupid mistake he thought was right at the time, this time she’d let him think over his actions, as cruel as that was. After all, she mentally forgave him the moment he didn’t pull the trigger.

Deciding she couldn’t listen to any more guilt coming from the older Winchester, she turned around to go another way and leave the brothers to have their talk. She’d go to see Dean later. Right now, Sam was right that she was going to try to find where the hell Chuck was to get her revenge.

Grabbing her laptop from her room, she took it with her to another unused room. She didn’t know where to even start to look for leads on Chuck. In the end, she ended up looking at local and global news. It seemed like the undead had arisen almost everywhere. Hell had indeed been opened, as stated by Cas. Every country was in chaos headlining ‘Zombie Apocalypse is upon us’. There were some smaller articles that talked about mysterious deaths that sounded supernatural as well. It seemed like a lot had been unleashed thanks to Chuck.

After about an hour into reading articles claiming the end of the world, a friendly face popped up by the door. It was Sam with an arm sling. “Here you are. I was a little worried.” He admitted.

“I know better than try to go do something stupid.” Y/n stated.

“I know. I knew you were at the bunker still. Your car was still here. I was just surprised to not find you in the library or your room.” Sam shared as he entered the room and took a seat on the bed that was in the corner from the desk that you sat at.

“Yeah, I needed some space.” She confessed. “How’s the shoulder?”

“Better, Dean helped me out with it.”

“Where is your brother?” Y/n asked, still glued to her laptop.

“He went to go grab some food, probably also taking a drive to think some things over.”

“Sounds like something your brother would do.”

“Yeah…” There was a moment of silence as Sam debated about bringing up a particular issue. He knew he shouldn’t butt in, but still. “You know Y/N, he blames himself for Jack’s death.”

Y/N sighed as she stopped looking at her laptop to turn towards Sam. “I know. I mean he’s partly right...” She shrugged but then quickly added, “I forgave him already though. The moment he didn’t pull that trigger, I already forgave him.”

Saw was relieved to hear that, but he assumed Dean hadn’t heard her forgiveness yet based on how they were talking earlier when he got his shoulder patched up. “Have you told him that face to face?”

“Uhh, not exactly. Yet.”

Sam looked at Y/N with a you-need-to-tell-him face.

She rolled her eyes at his look, “I know, I know. I will tell him, I promise. I just thought maybe he could think over his recent actions for a bit. He was being pretty unreasonable before.”

Sam sighed but also understood that the version of Dean who was so set on killing Jack had taken some kind of emotional toll on Y/N. “I’m going to hold you to that. How are you doing though?”

“Fine.” She answered a bit too fast for his liking.

“Y/N….”

“What? You want me to cry over Jack or you want me to find a way to bring down his real killer, Chuck?” She’d cry a little already during her shower, which she wouldn’t admit. Crying wouldn’t bring back Jack but maybe she could convince Chuck to, as very unlikely as that was going to happen, it was the only thing she could think of.

Sam let another sigh out. Y/n and his brother were definitely similar. He got off the bed, “Fine. At least research in the library and not by yourself. I’ll even grab my laptop and help you.”

She knew Sam didn’t want her alone to bask in her own revenge, but before she could reject his suggestion, he spoke again.

“I’ll send Dean here if you don’t.” Sam semi-threatened.

She rolled her eyes as she closed her laptop and stood up with Sam. She didn’t want Dean to come to her this time around, she would find her own time to go to him when she felt like it. And so, they both left to research in the library. Y/N inquired about Castiel’s whereabouts and Sam had shared he was with Jack’s body. At that moment, she wasn’t ready to see Jack’s body again…yet.

- - -

“Sammy! I’m back with food!” Dean yelled entering the bunker and heading down the steps. He spotted his brother sitting at the table in the library with books pilled by him. When he walked into the library, he was surprised to see Y/N there. He hadn’t seen her as she stood by one of the bookshelves, holding a book open.

“Oh. You’re here too. Good.” He commented before pressing on to set the food down and distribute it out. “Okay, I got two burgers, two fries, and then a salad for Sammy.”

Y/N walked over to the table of food. The food smelled amazing. And the fact that Sam had told her Dean had left to get food almost 2 hours ago definitely meant he went on a drive to think things over as Sam had stated.

“Thanks. It smells amazing.” She complimented grabbing at her food and pecking him on the cheek as a small sign that she wasn’t upset with him in any way. They still needed to talk later alone.

Dean and Sam were both surprised, but their surprised face turned into smiles. The three continued to act as normally as they would. Sam shared that he and Y/N read that the dead rising was happening all over the world and it seemed like other supernatural creatures that were once dead had been brought back too. Unfortunately, there was no lead on Chuck yet. Eventually, Castiel was brought up in the conversation.

“Cas still with –“ Dean stopped as he looked over at Y/N. He was trying to sense her mood, as she hadn’t brought up Jack once. He turned to his brother, who also had looked over at her, but understood what Dean was asking.

“Yeah. He didn’t want to leave earlier, but it’s probably best for him to get a break.” Sam suggested as he was about to stand up. The younger Winchester had also hoped this would be the needed alone time for his brother and Y/N to have their talk.

Y/N heard both of them, despite not giving them her attention. She was also aware that if Sam left, Dean might try to take the alone time to talk to her. She wasn’t feeling that kind of talk yet and preferred to finally face Jack’s body instead.

Immediately, Y/N stood up. “I can go check on Cas. You’re right, he can’t just stare at Jack’s body all day.”

Both brothers looked at each other but were not able to make any objections as she left. Earlier, Sam had told her where Cas was when she asked about him. So she knew where to go in the bunker.

Entering the room where Cas and Jack were, she spotted Cas with his eyes closed and his hands placed together under his chin as he was kneeling on the side of the bed. He was praying, she assumed.

“Cas?” Y/N called out.

No response.

“Cas..” She called again, this time gently placing her hand on his shoulder.

The angel opened his eyes and then looked up at his friend. “Y/N….Sorry, I was searching.”

“Searching for what?” Even though she knew the answer, she asked anyway.

“Any trace of Jack. I thought maybe if I concentrated hard enough, I could find some part of his soul.” Castiel confided.

Y/N could see it in his features. Castiel was also blaming himself for Jack’s death. She forced a smile as she decided to play along. She shared the same understanding that somehow Jack could still be saved. After all, her plan was not that far off from almost impossible as Cas’s. If she could find Chuck, maybe somehow she could convince him to bring back Jack. “Anything?”

“No. I believe he may have gone to the empty. And I have no connection to there unless I die myself.” The angel shared. As if knowing Y/N would argue back, the angel continued, “Don’t worry. I know Jack would not want me to join him in the empty.”

“How about you go take a break? Get some rest, using your powers earlier to teleport must’ve been draining. I bet your body isn’t as used to it as it was before.” She suggested.

As much as Castiel didn’t want to leave, he knew she’d kick his ass out of there if she wanted too. Honestly, if that happened, he wouldn’t have the will to fight her off. He was also aware that he should try to relieve any stress on her in her current condition.

Standing up, the angel nodded his head in agreement as he walked out of the room.

Y/N took his seat beside Jack. She saw a face towel cover the boy’s face, hiding the holes left from his eyes burning out. She reached for his cold hand, holding it tight. “I’m so sorry Jack. I-“ She paused as she felt that this was probably her breaking point. The flow of tears was coming. “-I should’ve stopped them. I should’ve stopped him.” She felt her eyes began to water, but she also tried her best to stop it. “I promise, I’ll end him even if he is a god.” She promised more to herself. Before she would completely lose it, a voice interrupted.

“Y/N, it’s not your fault.”

The voice was all too familiar. It wasn’t deep, gravely, or sympathetic. It was a younger voice. A voice of innocence.

Turning around with watery eyes, Y/N saw a figure before her.  She wiped her eyes to clear them when she saw him. 

Jack.

Next: Part Six

Feedback is welcome!

FDEIB Tag:

@leahslovelylibrary @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @polina-93 @deanwinchestersmydaddy @witch-of-letters @rainflowermoon @rainflowermoonlibrary

[therewasatale]

When they show their wings: Castiel

The case was solved. The vampires were almost successful in their plan to reduce the number of Winchesters in the world by one.

You were always too bold, your siblings knew that. Hell, they were aware of that when you left your family to make your own luck in the world. You wanted to start a new life, and get away from the orders of your abusive father. Unfortunately, by now all three of you knew that, no hunter could leave their past behind. Especially if that hunter is a Winchester.

When your father died, you found each other once again, and like some kind of sick joke everything fallen apart just that time. With angels, the apocalypse, leviathans, and then even more angels. Too many things happened, and you lost too much.

You never complained, and you tried to keep it together - although sometimes you failed at this on the physical level- but Bobby died in the fight. Sam almost gave up everything, Kevin was killed by an angel. Cas just regained his grace.

It all fallen apart in a minute, as if somebody played a sick game with the world, just to try to destroy it for fun. You never talked about it, but all three of you felt that way.

You looked up towards the sky, and sighed.

"I hope you are all right, Bobby." You gulped down from your flask what you got from him for your 20th birthday. "I miss you." You sighed and leaned against your knees sadly. "We need you now…" You thought about this a little bit and you added.

"Now more than ever."

There was silence around you, and wind played with the leaves on the trees. The park was almost completely empty, there was only a married couple, slowly pushing a baby carriage, talking to each other with smile on their faces. As they walked away from the lake, a bunch of ducks followed them hoping for some bread.

It was a rare occasion that you found yourself in relative peace and quiet. You slowly exhaled and sagged your shoulders. You got a free morning from Dean and Sam so you could be alone for a little. Sometimes, just rarely, you missed the old times, and then you felt guilty for that feeling.

You glanced down to the wound on your hand.

"How are you, (Y/N)?"

You almost chocked on the air from the sudden fright and started to cough.

"Cas," you hit your chest a couple of times, and took another big breath." I already told you to please warn me when you arrive!"

The angel beside you turned his eyes down, chastised. "I am sorry."

You put away your flask with a sigh.

"What's up? Is there some kind of problem? My brothers aren't here."

"I know, they told me where can I find you."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise.

The angels where a kind of abstract existence in your eyes. At least until you get to know some of them and you realised that the vast majority was as much of as an asshole as the demons. There were of course exceptions like Gabriel and Balthazar. Not the best exceptions, but still. At the very least you liked them. And then there was Cas, who as the years gone by became more and more important for you, and who you already lost once.

"So, how can I help you with Castiel?"

"According to your brothers, you wanted to be alone, but you were wounded. " The angel looked at your hand uncertain. "I just…"

You let out a small smile. "I'm all right Cas, just a scratch."

"Last time you had two of your ribs broken and you said the exact same thing. " He looked at you with obvious worry in his eyes. "I was the one who healed you that time too. "

"Sorry," you shrugged a little. "I just, well it runs in the family."

Castiel sighed a little "I don't think this thing is transferable by genetics."

You let out a small chuckle, and blushed when the angel looked at you with a warm smile.

"Maybe you're right, but we're just like that. Pigheaded, self-sacrificing, and sometimes idiotic. Don't even try to deny it." You slowly patted his hand, but when you tried to pull it back, he grabbed it and slowly closed his own hands on your wound. You couldn't get away, not like you wanted to protest. After a couple of seconds, your wound disappeared, but he didn't let your hand go.

"I completely agree with the first two, the third one is more like a result of them actually. You want to do good things but I learned that good intentions aren't always enough. But say anything, I think you all are good persons. "

"Thank you, Cas. How are you? Your…umm, grace and wings? " You slowly rubbebed your head and stopped as the angel looked at you with his glowing eyes.

"Yes? I just-…wow.."

Two wings blocked the world from you. Two wounded, but still wide wing, which was composed of long black feathers " Cas…"

"They're healing." The angel smiled a little and closed his wings around you. "I hope it's not a problem if I gave you an answer like this."

He became silent when your hand touched his feathers. Both of you held your breath, even though he would have been fine not to breath to begin with.

You caressed the small silky feathers with the tip of your fingers. You couldn't stop yourself from touching them.

"(Y/N)", Castiel's voice pulled you back to reality.

"Sorry, I didn't meant to..." you became silent, thinking "I mean..."

Castiel smiled and glanced towards his wings. "It's okay, my wings, well, they aren't the most attractive, for an angel, or for a human."

You blinked a couple of times.

"What? No! Cas these are the most beautiful wings I have ever seen! True these are the first ones I saw, but I don't want to see anyone else's. I'm sure its' completely different with your eyes, but they ARE wonderful."

Silence descended upon you two. You blushed, hearing your own words, they came from the bottom of your heart, rushing out of your mouth without your brain interfering with them. You had to say something.

"Cas-" You stopped clueless what to say "I-,"

He hugged you closer to himself, looking into your eyes, waiting.

Before your thoughts could organise themselves, you closed your eyes and kissed him. His lips were just as soft as his feathers. Your heart thumped in your ear. The angel drew you closer with his wings, and to your surprise, kissed you back. The moments that followed seemed as long as hours, and you had to separate to take a breath.

"If I knew this would happen," You looked into the eyes of the angel "I would have asked you to show me your wings sooner. "

Castiel caressed your back with his wings, and hugged you tightly with them.

---

The other angels: Gadreel ~ Gabriel ~ Balthazar ~ Samandriel

You also can find this fanfiction on Ao3 

Thank you for the reading!

[scrollingkingfisher]

Shipping it like the Titanic

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

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

AO3

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

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

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

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

It started with the play.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So his blog quickly grew.

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

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

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

Wait.

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

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

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

Him and Gabriel? Really?

Why?

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

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

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

He checked the tags. Sabriel, apparently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                                            ...

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

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

                                                           .o0o.

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

“Brother. You need to take a break.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You know what? Maybe he would read that book.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                                                 ...

“Father above, their lives are depressing.”  

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

What now?

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

He typed ‘supernatural’ into google.

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

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

“Bingo.” He clicked on a link.

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

                                                            …

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                                             .o0o.

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

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

Sam apologists, don’t interact.

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

He woke up to online carnage.

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

He scrolled down to the first reblog.

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

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

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

And then they went off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What you looking at?”

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

“Selkie lore,” Sam grunted defensively.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets- Oops. Too late for that

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

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

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

                                                              …

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

Almost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, the best defence was a good offence.

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

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

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

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

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

Gabriel winced. Not one of his better moments.

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

Well, Moose wasn’t wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He stared at the screen, nonplussed. Why?

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets: You really like Gabriel, huh?

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

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

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

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets: That makes two of us.

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

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

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

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

                                                          .o0o.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm yeah. Uh. What?”

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

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

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

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

                                                         .o0o.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sam? Hey, gigantor! Anybody home?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, same time next week?”

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

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

                                                              .o0o.

Gabriel was in too deep, and he knew it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                                         .o0o.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PING!

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

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

                                                             …

“Was the flamethrower really necessary?”

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

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

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

Archive Of Our Own

[AO3] Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets just posted a new work :)

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

                                                        .o0o.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There. It was out.

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

                                                        .o0o.

Sam sat back. Huh.

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

But he had written it. And it was good.

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

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

Slowly, Sam started typing.

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

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

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

Angel_In_the_Streets_Trickster_In_the_Sheets: You and me both, Moose.

Sam smiled sadly. If only.

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

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

And really, everything went downhill from there.

Part 2, coming soon!

[nicolabarth]

Wifi

Pairing: Lucifer/Michael/Adam Milligan

Word Count: 1579

Written For: @spngenrebingo and also @humongouscandycoffee. Happy Birthday!

Square Filled: Hell

Summary: The cage has wifi since Sam spent time there. Adam thinks the internet is a nice distraction until the Archangels discover it, too.

Warnings: Cage fic, crack turned serious, no torture!

It’s a fact that everywhere Sam Winchester goes, there’s wifi. And apparently, if he stays somewhere long enough (like about 80 hell years) the wifi lingers after he’s gone. At least that’s Adam’s theory about why they have an internet connection in the cage.

While Sam had still been there, Michael had snapped a laptop in existence for Adam and he had used it aimlessly to distract himself. They’d all been tense. Without a body, Sam’s soul had been defenseless against the cage, no matter how much Lucifer had curled around it to protect it, alternating between murmuring soothing nonsense and cursing Castiel for only taking the body with him. When Death had shown up, Lucifer had practically shoved Sam’s soul into his hands, begging him to take it somewhere better.

After that, things had gradually gotten better. The internet is a nice distraction, and after a few hundred years, Michael and Lucifer actually manage to exchange whole sentences without any of them containing an accusation. Ever so carefully, Adam manages to stir them towards happy and safe topics. Like the creation of the universe before humans came along. How Lucifer had ignited the sun and the stars. How Michael had drowned some of the Leviathans in lava. How Gabriel had come up with the platypus. And how Raphael had liked playing catch with the lightning in the sky.

And when the archangels fight (again), Adam curls up in a corner with his laptop.

Then one day he finds Lucifer in front of it. The archangel looks up with a smirk on his lips that can’t mean anything good. “They wrote a song about you.”

Adam blinks. “Me?”

Lucifer nods.

“Who’d write a song about me?”

Lucifer’s grin gets wider. “The Supernatural fandom.”

“The what?”

In his own corner, Michael sighs. “The prophet Chuck wrote books about your brothers. Apparently some people liked them. A lot.”

And there Adam thought being locked into a cage in hell with two archangels as company is the heights of how surreal his life could get. “And those books mention me?”

“Yup.” Lucifer fiddles with the laptop as if he’s dying to finally reveal what exactly he found. “And the fans wrote a song about you. Wanna hear it?”

Adam looks at the literal devil through narrowed eyes. “What’s the catch?”

“Why would there be a catch?” Lucifer’s try for an innocent face gets completely ruined by the fact that he’s still grinning.

It probably doesn’t matter what Adam says now, in the end he’ll listen to the damn song. Would be the first time Lucifer doesn’t get what he wants. Well, technically the second, since he kinda wanted to destroy mankind. “Fine. Play it.”

And of course it’s about how Sam and Dean forgot him in the cage. Adam throws Lucifer a bitchface that the devil answers with a shiteating grin. When the refrain comes along for the second time, Lucifer starts singing along: “We are never ever ever saving Adam ever! He’s been dead for four years and we haven’t tried at all …”

“I’m not dead!” Adam finally shouts over the song. “I was dead! I was in fucking heaven! But someone just had to start the fucking Apocalypse and needed a fucking ride!”

Only when the silence that follows his outburst rings in his ears, does he realize that Lucifer has closed the laptop. Both archangels are staring at him, and there had been a time where that would’ve frightened him.

“We’re not playing that song again,” Michael finally says.

“It’s really catchy, though,” Lucifer protests, but it sounds a bit half hearted.

Michael walks over to his brother and takes the laptop out of his hands. “Give me that.”

“If you want to act all big brotherly, Michael, you should’ve started at Stull Cemetery.”

Oh great. And there they go again with the accusations. It’s an old argument by now, though, more like something they’re too used to to let go. There’s no real anger behind the words any more.

Michael just sighs. “You know the reasons, Lucifer.”

“Shit reasons.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

That’s a new one. Adam blinks in surprise at the same time as Lucifer does so, too. Then Lucifer leans forward, grin tugging at the corners of his mouth again. “What was that?”

Michael just growls at him, though.

For a while they all return to their respective corners, Michael doing something on the laptop now. There’s a lot of furrowing his brows and low muttering, but he doesn’t actually say anything.

After a few hours or maybe centuries – Adam had never learned how to tell time down here – a question occurs to him. He looks at Lucifer through narrowed eyes. “Why did you google me?”

Lucifer goes for a nonchalant shrug, but he avoids Adam’s eyes. That’s definitely very new.

A bit later Adam catches Lucifer humming the melody of the song. The humming stops as soon as Adam glares at him. “It is very catchy,” Lucifer defends himself.

“You know me never getting out means you never getting out either?” After all, who are Sam and Dean more likely to get out of here? Their brother or the literal devil? On the other hand, you never know with Sam and Dean ...

Lucifer shrugs. “I don’t expect to.”

“You don’t?” Adam asks surprised.

“Nah. I had my chance. Blew it so Sammy could have his piece of mind.” When Adam starts to say something Lucifer lifts a finger. “Don’t say a fucking word about that!”

“I was going to say that that’s actually surprisingly nice of you.”

He probably should’ve know not to say something like that, because it results in an archangel glaring angrily at Adam. “As I said, don’t say a fucking word.”

“Adam …” Michael interrupts them. He sounds a bit distracted. “Would you mind explaining the concept of shipping to me?”

Maybe the laptop had been a bad idea. Apparently, Michael had googled Adam, too. (Why do archangels keep googling him? Why is this even remotely a problem he has to deal with?) And he had found a thing called Midam. Adam guesses it makes sense with the whole vessel thing and all, and of course it leads to Lucifer making a lot of jokes about Michael jumping Adam’s bones. Lucifer also likes reading them fanfic summaries.

“This is a good one!” Lucifer is grinning again. “Listen: Alpha Michael was very disappointed that Adam popped a knot when he presented.”

Adam is pretty sure he doesn’t even want to know. “Popped a what?” he asks anyway.

Lucifer makes a vague hand gesture. “It’s probably a kinky thing.”

Okay, fine. That’s enough. If Lucifer want to play this game, he’s get what he deserves. Adam walks over, snatches the laptop, and is vaguely surprised that he’s still in possession of all of his limbs a moment later. Just to be safe he retreats to his own corner.

It doesn’t take long to find a ship called Michifer. It’s surprisingly easy to find art and fanfiction for it.

Showing it around leads to two archangels falling very silent for a century or two. Like, eerily silent. No accusations anymore, just the two of them eyeing each other. Sometimes they talk in Enochian, which Adam is getting better at, but when they speak low and fast he has no chance. If Adam had known that showing them a ship would have this result, though, he would’ve looked for it sooner.

Now and then Lucifer claims the laptop for himself. Apparently he has a blog now where he reblogs nature photography. It seems to make him happy.

Usually, he doesn’t stare at the screen unmoving for hours (or centuries), though. Usually he doesn’t pull on his lower lip in thought. Usually, he doesn’t get up to carry the laptop over to Michael’s corner. Usually, the archangels definitely don’t put their heads together to whisper for quite a while. Not just talk lowly, but whisper like they actively don’t want Adam to hear.

Not that it isn’t nice that they finally get along, but everybody would be nervous with two archangels staring at them and whispering. Especially since whispering in Enochian always sounds like hissed warnings of impending doom.

“What is it?” Adam snaps finally. What are they going to do to him? Kill him? He’s in hell already.

Lucifer nudges his brother. “You tell him. He’s your vessel.”

“You brought this up,” Michael protest.

Lucifer lifts an eyebrow. “You really want me to talk to him about this?”

Michael pulls a face at that. Then he turns to Adam. “Well, we just found another ship, and we wanted to ask you something.”

Seriously, how is being locked into a cage in hell with two archangels as company not the heights of how surreal his life could get? “No kinky sex,” Adam jokes. He’s definitely heard too many fanfiction summaries by now. “And in case you want to tell me your trueforms have tentacles, I’m not into that either.”

More whispering. Then Lucifer saying: “No, I don’t think it counts as a kink.”

Michael shrugs as if he wants to say ‘You’re the expert’. Which is probably fair, seeing as his brother invented sin, if certain old books are correct.

“We wanted to ask you,” Michael says finally, “what your thoughts on polyamory are.”

If Adam is totally honest there could’ve probably been worse questions. And in the end he is very happy that he answered honestly.

Tagging: @askatosch @brieflymaximumprincess @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell @schizonephilim @coffee-queen448 @little-boyking @solo-skywlker @talkmagically @whinywingedwinchester @logicalize @batfam-art @blakechaos08 @captain-winchester-27

[theragincajin]

End of all things {Part 1}

A/N: Hey guys! So I’m new to Tumblr but I’ve been writing fanfiction for a little over a year now. I’ve been wanting to try my hand at my own Supernatural Series so I hope you all enjoy ☺️

Parings: None yet

Warnings: Mentions of Blood, Swearing, Mentions of Death, Some gruesome talk.

Mentioned Characters: John Winchester, Mary Winchester, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, (My Oc) Riley Gordon.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to the world of Supernatural and/or the characters from the show. I only own my Original characters and ideas. Thank you!

Summary:

(Alpha, Omega, And Beta humans in an apocalyptic world among the Supernatural)

During the Apocalypse of the world my character takes you on her journey as a struggling Alpha leader to a group of 100 men, women, and pups. This story will be filled with action, adventure, death, and love. I hope you enjoy!

—————————————————————

Life in general doesn’t really make sense to me..never has come to think of it. I mean if you really think about it, why are we all here? Some of us are lucky enough to make a difference in this piece of shit world while we’re still breathing but most of us just stay in the shadows, looking to our feet and staying to ourselves as the world goes to hell.

The world itself doesn’t even care about us, why else would Mother Nature be trying to kill us? Some don’t belong, others just take what’s not theirs. And the rest of us? We work all of our lives just to be thrown in the mud. At least that’s what’s happened to me.

Let’s start from the beginning shall we? It’ll be easier to explain that way...

🅼🅰🆁🅲🅷 1979

A simple couple from Oklahoma that had been married for three years now were about to be parents. Two Betas with nothing to their name but what they’d worked for, living in a small pack of about thirteen others. Think about that. Even with hand-me-down clothes and very little money they were still happy. Why? Because they were about to be parents, they would give life to a tiny soul making another mere light into the world of darkness surrounding them.

Their names were Katherine and Marcus Gordon and they were my parents.

After twenty two long hours of hard labor my mother held me in her arms with tears in her eyes and a smile on her face, giving me the name Riley Amphitrite Gordon. Yes my initials were RAG and that’s about all I’d be living in until I turned twenty five.

Now skip down the road a few years to a late October night when I was about four years old and that’s when my life went to shit. Our pack was heading South for the winter down to Lebanon, Kansas were another Alpha leader was offering to take us in for the six long months ahead. We were short on supplies and if we were going to survive the winter we’d definitely need to stay somewhere stocked up with food, medicine, and whatever else they could spare. I mean this was the freaking apocalypse for crying out loud, it’s either kill or be killed.

The group was just heading to bed, the Alphas were standing guard against the uncharted darkness of the Forrest ahead of us as we all curled in our tents when, out of no where, we were sent under attack. They all came out from every dark part of the Forrest, and were quicker than a cheetah as they announced their attack on our small group. Even as a small child I can still remember the smell of blood, the blood curdling screams of children my own age and mothers being torn to shreds. I remember seeing my mother being eaten alive by those Things...they weren’t human. I stayed hidden behind the thin material of our tent as I watched in horror as they attacked my father next, knocking him to the ground and tearing into his soft flesh with their sharp, crooked teeth. I somehow remained hidden until my uncle Roger found me, picking me up, along with what belongings we had and running away along with the others that got away from those beasts.

From there the seven out of the thirteen of our pack, including myself, traveled the rest of the way to Lebanon. When arriving upon the compound the group was welcomed with open arms by none other than John Winchester and his wife Mary Winchester.

And that’s where I grew up.

Among now a pack of fifty or more, families who just brought us in no problem.

As I got older I learned and prospered along with the rest of the kids from the pack, two of which were John and Mary’s sons. Dean and Sam Winchester. Dean was a year older than me and Sam was a year younger so I was in the middle, basically feeling like the middle sibling in their little family.

The Winchester’s basically raised me, giving me a special room to myself and treating me like a princess in their beautiful bunker in the compound. I didn’t feel left out and I felt loved, it’s definitely what my parents would’ve wanted for me. Along with going to school and getting straight A’s I was taught Leadership and combat by John and essential skills for a woman by Mary. I was also taught in the art of lying and sarcasm by Dean and Sam of course. We three were inseparable.

Growing up I was more into an adventure and hunting than getting trained to be a betrothed Omega. My classification was actually surprising to my uncle, seeing as my parents were Betas and as was he. My whole family were Betas. Even though my Class was put under Omega, John Winchester marked me as an Alpha along with Sam and Dean. And trust me, as we got older, a house full of Alpha’s was the last thing he wanted to deal with.

Around my eighteenth birthday I came into my first heat, being a late bloomer was not uncommon in an Omega coming from a family of Betas. I was locked in my room of the bunker for six days to groan and cry as I pleased while the pain of the cramps and the blossoming of my puberty came into adulthood. Mary was immune to my heat seeing as she was a female and she was mated but Sam and Dean were not so John took them up through the south side of the compound for a father and son camping trip.

I had successfully pulled through my heat before the boys returned but not before I became dangerous...before I accidentally killed someone.

According to Mary I blacked out and attacked her, going straight for the neighboring house farms and killing a few sheep afterwards. An older Alpha stumbled apon me and became startled but it was too late..I attacked him with brute force, killing him instantly under the assumption that he was a threat.

I don’t remember any of this.

When John and the boys returned they came home to the whole pack surrounding the bunker in attempts in getting me out into the street to kill me for my actions. I of course was locked away safely by Mary, who thank god, only had a few bumps and bruises. The people thought that I was what they call a Mange.

—————————————————————

*A Mange is a creature who was once a human. Could be Alpha, could be Omega. Either way it starts through heat or rut, there’s an infection that shoots through your system and makes you deathly ill. You start gaining side affects of the common cold then you black out and become a full on wolf as you sleep, some attack others while many try and control it like a bad dream. And if not treated by an antidote, which only the national guard obtains, You die, come back wolfed out fully and become this blood thirsty beast that kills everything in its path permanently.*

Mange ⬆️

——————————————————

If that wasn’t enough to shock John, the fact that I attacked Mary did. The whole situation was all too much to handle but it had to be handled. If John didn’t do something about this the whole pack would turn on him...I knew what I had to do. I didn’t want to of course but they were my family and I had failed them.

It was time for me to go.

As I had made my decision to leave Dean had snuck into my room to check on me, he was always closer to me than Sam was when it came to our friendship. I considered Dean my best friend where as I considered Sammy my little brother.

He walked into my room, knocking lightly on the door as I packed up what little belongings I had into a duffel bag and tried to keep my tears at bay. He knew me too well to even ask if I was okay, it was indefinite that I wasn’t, he just simply walked over to me and gently stopped me from packing to hug me close. He rubbed my back as I cried into his shoulder before explaining that I had to leave. He didn’t like that idea one bit but I told him it was best if I go.

He wasn’t too happy with me but he’s a big boy, he’ll get over it.

I finished packing and went to tell John that I was leaving, I thanked him and Mary for raising me as their own before we sadly said our goodbyes and I made my way out the back entrance to the bunker where I wouldn’t be noticed. Dean followed me of course to tell me one final goodbye and to give me something to remember him by, the amulet Sam had given him for his eighteenth birthday. I refused to take it but he insisted that I do, saying that it was the only thing he had to give me that actually meant something to the both of us.

He told me he loved me and to try and not die out there. I told him to stop with the sappy shit and to watch out for himself and Sam. Then I left.

I sadly walked to the front of the compound and looked at the only place that I’ve ever known. Home. A few tears ran down my cheeks as I slowly opened the door to the compound and stepped out onto the rundown gravel hill which was surrounded by Forrest.

Leaving the compound wasn’t easy but I did it. I wasn’t alone though, Bobby Singer joined me along my journey of leaving to start fresh and basically along the way he became my right hand man. We made a good team, taking refuge in run down towns and killing as many evil sons a bitches that came along our path as any. I never forgot the Winchester’s, not one day. But I also never forgot what I was...

a monster.

🆂🅴🅿🆃🅴🅼🅱🅴�� 2017

That brings me to the present. I am now 38 years old and still unmated.

But, I am also the first female Alpha/Omega to be running the biggest conventional compound pack there is. Next to the Brits of course.

My pack was founded upon Bobby and I five years ago. We stumbled upon a Ill pack of seven people who were huddled together in the remains of a supermarket, waiting for death to toll its way upon them. We took them in and took care of them from what supplies we had in Bobby’s Nova, giving them a second chance. They told us that their pack had a compound of its own before it became overrun by Manges.

That gave me an idea.

I had had it up to here with those bastards and I wasn’t about to just let this one go, I had to do something.

In the middle of the night I snuck over to the old compound, looking over it cautiously I discovered that this place was bigger than any compound I’ve ever been in. And the group was right, it was completely overrun by Manges.

I had enough, I was done. I couldn’t take living in fear over these beasts anymore. And just like that, something snapped. I blacked out and when I came to it was Morning and Bobby, along with the pack we found, were walking into the now cleared compound in shock.

I stood there before them, covered in blood and guts and surrounded by hundreds of Manges. All dead. I had wiped the entire compound clean, leaving us a place to call our own.

A home.

To this day I don’t even remember how it happened, I don’t even remember sneaking into the compound that night. All I know is, I finally cleared my title as a monster and became a hero.

Five years later and the compound is now booming with a whopping one hundred souls. Women, pups, and Men all living protected under my protection. The Seven we found became my council, we make decisions and we decide what’s best for our pack. My pack.

Castiel, Kelly, Bobby, Charlie, Chuck, Benny, Ellen, Rufus, and I make up the board but to be fare everyone answers to me. And that’s how my life became meaningful.

—————————————————————

Present Day~

I awoke to my alarm beeping in my ear, making me jump and pound the snooze button down hard into the stupid box.

God, I hate Monday’s.

It’s honestly the worst day in history, especially since it ends my weekend full of no responsibilities and sleeping in. I groaned as I turned over on my back and stared up at the ceiling, sighing to myself as the sun hadn’t even come up into the sky yet. I rubbed my tired eyes and yawned loudly as I sat up in bed and took in the surroundings of my cabin, trying to wake myself up enough to get up and start the day. Grabbing my robe, I slip it on and shuffle into my kitchen to grab a cup of hot coffee to wake up every part of me for my long and tiring day.

And just like that, my schedule begins.

•Wake up at 4am

•get a cup of coffee in my system

•Shower, change, and grab breakfast and more coffee

•Make my morning walkthrough down to the tabernacle for morning orientation

•report to Chuck and grab notes of what’s new and what needs to be brought to attention to the pack, then start orientation after everyone has arrived

•dismiss then go into my office for a meeting with the board

•after meeting go to mess hall to eat lunch

•after lunch retreat down to the campgrounds to check up with my Head of command, Benny about how the troops are coming along

•then start my walkthroughs, checking over the security systems, the fences, etc.

•go back to my office to discuss supplies and what not with Chuck

•lead, along side Benny and the troops, a supply run and trade with the Brits

•come back and eat dinner

•return to the tabernacle to have nightly orientation

•retire back to my cabin around midnight to sleep

•Repeat.

And that’s how my week goes. After five years of this shit I’ve grown quite grumpy, can you blame me? I mean it’s bad enough I’m not getting laid but having to take the place of a job that’s meant for an alpha male? It makes me a little rough around the edges. Especially since I deal with my heat by myself with no help from an alpha.

The week had gone on and now it was Wednesday morning, 5:30am. I was just grabbing the notes from Chuck as people started to flood into the tabernacle for morning orientation. I yawned as I waited behind the podium for every seat to be filled, letting people have their time to get going and hopefully all show up. After receiving the go ahead from Benny that everyone had arrived I started our meeting.

“Good morning all.” I said, my voice gruff and filled with tiredness. “To start off this morning I do want to welcome the newest member of the pack with a warm howl so if you all will, please welcome along with me Jack Elliot Novak to the proud parents Castiel and Kelly Novak.” The whole room erupted into howling as we all clapped and I smiled at the newly proud parents. Castiel nodded and smiled to me as Kelly did the same then everyone sat down. “Now, back to the meeting. I do want to bring to your attention that it is the beginning of fall and that means mating Season is in bloom. Now, I do know we have a few Alphas and Omegas coming into mating and I do want to remind our young ones to meet with Charlie after the meeting to arrange a cabin down at the Peak for the yearly mating Season. I’ve had too many complaints about moaning and groaning coming from the neighborhood guys so please keep that shit down at the cabins.” I smiled a bit as the room erupted in soft laughter coming from the elders of the pack. “Another situation I need to bring to your attention. My Chief in command found two young Alphas poking around in the south side of the forest. I must remind you to stay off that part of the compound and if I catch anyone else up there without authorization I will terminate you. That place is strictly forbidden for your safety and I advise you all take note of that.”

I soon finished up with orientation and was wrapping up so I could go to the Council meeting when Chuck unexpectedly came running up to me, clip board in hand. “Chief! Chief! We have a situation down at Eastgate. We need you down there right now!” He said panickedly. I nodded and bolted straight down to Eastgate, the main gate to the compound. Benny and the troops were already down there as I pushed my way through the crowd to see what in the hell was going on. I walked up in Benny with my game face on. “Report.” I demanded. “The troops were out scavenging for supplies as usual and found two unsuspecting victims held up in an attic down in the main part of town. After clearing the area the two asked to see you.” Benny informed me, his Cajun accent seeming calming to me in this time of chaos. I nodded and walked over to the two victims who had been tied up with bags over their heads. My combat boots crunched the gravel underneath as I paced back and forth in front of the two. I breathed in and immediately was hit with an overpowering scent.

Alphas.

I reach out and grabbed the bags from the tops of their heads, yanking them off swiftly to revel my childhood friends.

My eyes grew wide as I stared at the only two boys that had ever treated me like family, my home.

“S-Sammy? Dean?”

To be continued...

————————————————————

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

What I’ve Done

Characters: Y/N Winchester (sister!reader), Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer

Pairing: Castiel x Reader

Warnings: Self doubt, self loathing, making wrong decisions. Canon typical.    

Word Count: 2200ish

A/N: This is 1 out of my 13 entries for @mamapeterson / @mrs-squirrel-chester’s Album Fanfiction Challenge where I chose the album “Smoke and Mirrors” by Imagine Dragons. The song prompt for this fic is: Hopeless Opus

This is kinda a rewrite of the ep The Man That Would Be King. I changed and took out a few things to fit in my reader but it is very much based on the ep. I stole and rephrased some of Castiel’s monologue from that ep as well. I do not claim to own any of that writing.

Thanks so much to the amazingly sweet @bkwrm523 for betaing this for me. I love you Sara!

***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***

The expression on her face, when she realized he had been lying to them for almost a year was burned into his mind. It was all he saw, no matter where he went or what he did. The hurt, pained expression on her face. His betrayal had hurt them all. His betrayal had angered them all.

For such a long time it had been so clear to Castiel he was doing the right thing. Working with Crowley had been a necessary evil. It had been the only way and Castiel knew the Winchesters would never have understood that. Nor should they have too. They stopped one apocalypse and now the angels or a portion of them anyway, was trying to start another. Castiel had never been more ashamed in his life. Y/N and Dean had lost a brother to this war. A brother Castiel unsuccessfully had tried to bring back. Y/N had gone to school and Dean had found love. They moved on. They deserved to have lives. Castiel hadn’t wanted to disrupt them but he had watched. He had thought about asking for their help so many times. He knew it was his best option, but he couldn’t. Dean looked peaceful and Y/N looked happy. Castiel knew they missed Sam, but it was his choice to not contact them and to keep hunting on his own. Or so Castiel had thought back then. He hadn’t realized it wasn’t all of Sam he had pulled out of the cage. He hadn’t realized until it was too late. As soon as Dean learned about Sam’s missing piece, he had called his sister back in. Castiel had not shown himself but she has watched the anger and pain on her face as she faced her oldest brother. The same pain he had watched on Dean’s face when he had realized Bobby had known about Sam being back, had been written all over Y/N’s face as she confronted Dean.

That had been when Castiel knew he had changed. He felt as if someone plunged a dagger through his vessels heart, when he saw her pain. He had wanted to take it away. Take her away from all the ugliness in the world. He had felt responsible for that pain, because had he done the job right in the first place, had he brought all of Sam back like he had tried too, she would not have been standing before Dean right then with tears streaming her face.

Castiel knew watching her then that he loved her. Angels weren’t supposed to fall in love, but he did. He loved her more than he loved anything, still he pushed it down. He couldn’t afford to feel anything or let it cloud his judgement. He needed to save earth. Save her from having to revert another apocalypse along with her brothers. Her brothers that for a time had been like brothers to him as well. Brothers he had lied to every day for almost a year until he had slipped up and Dean had caught him in one.

Castiel remembered the pain on all their faces as they confronted him. He was so sure he’d been right as he spoke to them but now sitting here, his conviction was faltering. He had been trying so hard not to face all the things he had done. All the bad things. Unspeakable things. Castiel looked down at his hands as he began speaking to himself.

“You know, I’ve…I’ve been here for a very long time. And I remember many things. I remember being at a shoreline, watching a little grey fish heave itself up on the beach and an older brother saying, “don’t step on that fish, Castiel. Big plans for that fish.” I remember the Tower of Babel…All 37 feet of it, which I suppose was impressive at the time. And when it fell, they howled ‘divine wrath’. But come on - dried dung can only be stacked so high. I remember Cain and Abel…David and Goliath…Sodom and Gomorrah. And, of course, I remember the most remarkable event - remarkable because it never came to pass. It was averted by two boys, a girl, an old drunk and a fallen angel. The grand story. And we ripped up the ending and the rules…And destiny…leaving nothing but freedom and choice. Which is all well and good, except… Well, what if I’ve made the wrong choice? How am I supposed to know?”

Castiel thought back to his arrangement with Crowley as he kept speaking. Telling his story to anyone that was willing to listen, hoping that his father was one of those. Castiel thought about how he in spite of reason, in spite of what Crowley had told him, still weren’t willing to turn the backs on the Winchesters.

“Crowley had a point, of course. My interest was conflicted. I still considered myself the Winchesters’ guardian. After all…they taught me how to stand up…What to stand for…And what generally happens to you when you do. I was…done. It was over. And then the most extraordinary thing happened. I was put back. And we had won. We stopped Armageddon. But at a terrible cost. And so I knew what I had to do next. Once again, I went to Harrow Hell, to free Sam from Lucifer’s cage. It was nearly impossible, but I was so full of confidence, of mission. I see now that was arrogance…Hubris…Because, of course, I hadn’t truly raised Sam – not all of him. Sometimes we’re lucky enough to be given a warning.This should have been mine.”

Castiel thought about how he had asked him to kill the Winchesters and how he had refused. They were his family. The weren’t angels. They were vessels but it was illogical for him to feel like this and he knew it. Still Sam and Dean were his brothers and Y/N… Castiel bowed his head in shame, knowing angels weren’t supposed to feel like this for humans. He knew nothing good would ever come of feelings like that, but he also couldn’t stop them. He couldn’t hurt her, nor could he let anyone else do so. She was the most important thing so with Crowley’s threats against her and her brothers Castiel went on a murder spree, to keep them all safe. To keep her safe. Killing every demon he thought Castiel would send their way. He protected them even if he knew they had begun to suspect him and he knew even with every word spoken between them, even with everything that had since come to pass he would do so again.

“Hiding…Lying…Sweeping away evidence. And my motives used to be so pure and for a long time I was still sure I was doing the right thing. When I returned to heaven I wanted the same freedom the Winchesters had taught me to all the angels. I didn’t want there to be any leaders. I wanted there to be choice and free will to all. Had I understood then what I understand now I would have answered the other angels that freedom is a length of rope and God wants us to hang ourselves with it. The first weeks in Heaven were more difficult than I had imagined. Teaching freedom to angels is a bit like teaching poetry to fish. And then there was Raphael.”

Castiel hung his head again as he remembered where all the choices that had now led to this had started. He remembered how Raphael wanted him to kneel to him and restart the apocalypse. No matter what Castiel said Raphael couldn’t or didn’t want to understand that the apocalypse didn’t have to be. Castiel hadn’t wanted to fight. He hadn’t wanted a civil war. He had never wanted to lead, but that was the role he had been given. A role that had lead to a string of choices he had felt were all right at the time, but now he was doubting every single one of them. Because of the pain on their faces. Because of the pain on her face. Y/N. The one human he had wanted to protect the most, had been the one human he had caused the most pain by his lying and hiding. She no longer trusted him and he couldn’t blame her. Still it hurt, more than anything he had ever felt in his very long, long life. Her pain caused him pain.

Castiel felt the tears that angels don’t cry press against his eyes as he recalled hiding in the shadows, watching how the oldest and youngest Winchester stood up for him. Still believing in him beyond reason when Bobby and Sam no longer were sure of the angels’ allegiance. He remembered the pain their argument had cost him, but he also didn’t doubt breaking into the light when Crowley’s demons attacked. He didn’t hesitate in killing every last one of them to save his brothers, the old man and Y/N. For a brief moment he had just allowed himself to react and he was himself again. There were no doubt in his mind what was right. There was no hesitance in his defense of his friends.  

Castiel knew that the moment that came after had been when he had made the choice that had sealed his faith and ended his friendship with the Winchesters and Bobby. It had been the decision that had put an end to whatever could have been between him and the youngest Winchester Y/N, who he cared for so deeply, before it even began. When they apologised for their doubt in him, he lied. He could have told them the truth and he was no longer sure that choice had been the right one. He mind was clouded by his emotions. Emotions no angel was supposed to feel. Or maybe his mind was clouded by his own hubris and mission. He was no longer sure so he was praying.

“Every decision I made was carved by good intentions. So is most long roads and this road brought me to a circle of holy fire.”

A tear fell down Castiel’s face, surprising himself as he thought about the look on her face as Bobby lit the circle around him. She was fighting herself, like she was still desperately holding onto hope that he hadn’t lied to them, or even if he had it wouldn’t be for the reason they all thought. Castiel remembered his best friend, the best friend he had ever had, pleading with him. Asking the angel to look him in the eye and tell him he weren’t working with Crowley. When he couldn’t lie to Dean any longer, her tears fell and Castiel’s heart broke into pieces. He had tried to explain himself, but his efforts had been too late. His lies had destroyed whatever trust the Winchesters and Bobby had once placed in him. He had tried regaining it by letting them know he had been the one breaking into the cage to pull Sam out, but the only response he had gotten was more anger and silence from her. She wouldn’t even look at him and still Castiel could feel her pain. Even know, a day later and miles from her he felt it. Tearing him to shreds.

He remembered look she had send him as Dean pulled her through the door with him. He remembered how he had wished he had stopped them. Pledge his allegiance to them once again and told them he would do whatever he could to fix everything he had broken between them, but he hadn’t. He had lied again. He had send them running moments before Crowley had broken in to save him. And now he was here sitting on a park bench with her pain mirrored in his own heart as Crowley’s words rang over and over in his head.

“You know the difference between you and me? I know what I am. What are you, Castiel? What exactly are you willing to do?”

Castiel wiped his tears from his eyes and looked straight into the winter air as he started speaking again.

“So that is everything I guess. My story. I believe it’s what you would call a…Tragedy from the human perspective. But maybe the human perspective is…Limited. I don’t know.” Castiel’s eyes turned to the sky as he pleaded. “That’s why I’m asking you, Father. One last time. Am I doing the right thing? Am I on the right path? You have to tell me. You have to give me…A sign. Give me a sign…”

Castiel pictured her smile. He remembered the feel of her embrace and the feelings she had stirred in him, before he for once and all pushed them aside. His voice almost broke as he made his decision.

“Because if you don’t…I’m gonna ju– I’m gonna do whatever I… Whatever I must…”

Castiel Tag Team

@mysupernaturalfics @blacktithe7 @blacktithe7 @bkwrm523 @percywinchester27 @jpadjackles @supernaturalyobessed @purgatoan @revwinchester @starswirlblitz @skathan-omaha @feelmyroarrrr @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki @winchesterprincessbride @curliesallovertheplace @docharleythegeekqueen @faith-in-dean @ellen-reincarnated1967 @enaishungry @adriellej @moonstar86 @alexafromthefandom @tia58 @nikolanna @lycangirl44 @brooke-supernatural16 @melonberri @thatonehaspanicchick @roxy-davenport @your-average-distracted-waffle @phoenixia67   @chaos-and-the-calm67 @jasminwild @mrswhozeewhatsis @smoothdogsgirl @angelkurenai @splendidcas @chelseypaigeake @gecko9596 @mouselovesmusic @lucifer-ismy-bae @tanithlowisabamf @jayankles @deansleather @ashleymalfoy @for-the-love-of-dean @mamapeterson @zeneko1987 @zeneko1987 @gemini75eeyore @just-a-touch-of-crowley @itsummertime22 @itsummertime22 @riversong-sam @dontbeamenacetotheforce @love-kittykat21 @love-kittykat21@iamflanneltrash @haleyhay96 @you-know-whodoesthat-crazypeople @girl-next-door-writes @amarettokeks @heyitssilverwolf @castielsbecky @castielsbecky @fuckyeahfeysand @thisthelilith

[dawnkiwi-blog]

Fortune of A Broken Man - Avengers fanfiction

James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes-centric | #2 in the Wretched Adrenaline series

Summary: Barnes is transferred from Wakanda to NYC at the behest of Tony Stark. Tony then hires a personal friend and mentor, Lizbeth Burke, to unscramble Barnes' fried brain. Barely visible on the horizon, enemies stir.

Featuring: Bucky Barnes x Lizbeth Burke Steve Rogers Wanda Maximoff Erik Selvig Darcy Lewis

Genres: Horror/Drama

Word Count: 2,442 Chapters: 50 Status: Finished prior to publishing

Trigger warnings: Vulagarity / allusion to schizophrenia / mentions and explorations of mental illness / war and PTSD

Opening: Up In Arms

Bleak. The first feeling he was met with happened to be a crummy, filthy bleakness. The type of grating numbness that accompanies extreme agony.

A hell few know; only those with trauma and scars deeper than a ravine can sympathise, let alone empathise, with the sort of acute dissonance the man in the straps felt.

Who was he?

He didn't know. Glimpses of winter, crimson, and the fleeting sounds of groaning metal and screaming engines ghosted through his dazed mind. It disappeared faster than he could register having experienced it.

Something in the back of his mind pulled him forth into consciousness, and the man's eyes shot up, drinking in the agonising, blinding whiteness before him.

A voice somewhere- behind you -spoke swiftly, spitting out foreign sounding memories. He knew what they were saying but it didn't make any sense.

Neutralise.

Acid pumped through his veins. It carried a wildfire of panic; white hot fear and symbiotic rage. Reaching behind him, the man felt his knuckles connect with flesh. A crunch filled the air. That language he recognised fluently.

The fear told him that these people were the wrong people. The rage spoke volumes- his target (his mission?) had disappeared. He had been compromised. No, It. It had been compromised.

Neutralise.

His vis- its vision focused. A woman and a man. Two people directly in front of It, another behind, countless unseen. White lab coats.

Its handlers wear white lab coats, but these ones are nondescript; that haunting red star absent from their lapels.

Wrenching forward towards them only to have thick straps halt Its attack, the Lab Coats stumbled back and fell with fear into the wall behind them.

More words were yelled and It felt meaty hands clamp down on both shoulders.

It roared, and with a grunt swung sharply to the right, landing another crunching blow. A shriek echoed around the room, and the grip on It weakened for a moment.

It was all It needed.

Another hearty lurch forward and the straps snapped, allowing It to careen towards the Lab Coats. Sinewy arms locked around the woman, tightening across her neck before throwing her to the side with a sickening crunch.

She lay lifeless in on the floor.

Its heartbeat steadied as Its conditioning directed the next fatal blow. One sharp punch from the left arm and the man went down, too.

The yelling increased in volume and number.

Through Its hair, It spied the large man who must have been restraining It. Taking a step forward, Its left arm reached the man, with a glinting silver hand closing around his neck.

"Barcala!"*

Cold darkness washed across It.

"You fucking idiot," a small woman snapped brashly. Taking a weighted step towards the sallow-faced man with the intent to smack some sense into him, she was stopped by Nicholas Fury who stepped between them.

"Sit down," he ordered. "We've already lost two lab technicians, we don't need you taking the life of another."

She barked a laugh out, shaking her head. "Oh, and who's fault is that? I told you not to put untrained techs in that lab, and yet there you went, throwing them into his fucking chambers. This one is on you, Fury."

Restrained anger stared back at her from his good eye.

"What?!"

He pointed behind her at the door. "You need to calm down, Miss Burke. Take some time and come back when you can start working again."

She didn't bother to deign him with a response. Twisting around to leave, she made sure to slam the door behind her.

"Useless baboons," she muttered angrily, storming down the sleek white corridors. "Never trust anyone with the jobs you can do yourself."

Making her way towards the elevator, Miss Burke- Lizbeth Burke -felt the chip on her shoulder grow.

She had been hired some months prior by the ever enigmatic Tony. In the years past she had worked with him, acting as a live-in shrink and generally helping him organise his mind. Initially hired by Pepper to help counsel the trauma inflicted on Tony by the Ten Rings, she eventually ceased the therapy in favour of advising the billionaire Avenger on the psychology behind those who he sought to destroy.

After the events in New York, in which Loki had probably given most of the city's population some form of PTSD, Lizbeth had found herself in between a rock and a hard place. The offer of employment by SHIELD was an enticing one; given her deliciously accumulating debt, the pay had her hesitating to turn them down. But the end result meant she would have to become a live-in shrink for the higher ranking employees and likely the Avengers themselves.

That headache had her saying no and cutting the phone line from her shitty apartment.

Then, of course, Tony had made another grave mistake- albeit with good intentions- and suddenly NYC was pushing the ozone layer and a demented celestial freak threatening to wipe out humanity. That had been a fun time. The price of incalculable intelligence happened to be various forms of apocalypse and all the usual comic book jazz. Tony really needed a good hug and probably a Tempurpedic mattress.

The aftermath had been beyond biblical. In less than a week, all international flights had been grounded, and the UN disbanded, only to be replaced by a juiced-up version demanding the heads of the Avengers. Naturally, they had not obliged, and now with SHIELD technically disbanded, America had become a superpower in the sense of a merry band of severely traumatised superheroes. Nobody on a federal level could actually control them, and given the public favour the whole 'defenders of earth' thing had given them, they had been cautiously left alone by SHEILDs counterparts.

International relations were at an all-time low, but Wakanda had formed an intelligence deal with the United States, so they at least had that.

Her bills had gone sky high as well as her bank interest, though.

Now, two and half years since Loki had bullied Earth, Tony was at her door waving a pretty green cheque in her face and offering her accommodation in his egotistical popsicle of a tower. He had also paid her debts off.

Money can do awful things to a person.

She sighed, stepping into the elevator and jabbing the button for the lobby.

Ugly elevator music attempted to soothe her on the way down.

"JARVIS, can you tell Tony to put some better music in these things? I feel like I'm Gatsby or something."

"Of course, Miss Burke," the charming English AI replied.

"Please and thank you," she muttered, stepping out into the bustling lobby of Stark tower.

Once she was out on the street, she let the blissfully ignorant hubbub of Manhattan wash over her and inhaled the fumes and grime of the Big Apple.

She fished a cigarette out of her pocket and raised it to her lips, intent on some carcinogenic relief.

"You know that will give you cancer, right?"

She slumped, groaning at the handsome sight of Sam Wilson. "Why won't you people leave me alone?"

He chuckled sheepishly, "Sorry?"

Lizbeth shook her head, "No, I'm sorry. How are you doing, Mr Wilson?"

He joined her, standing in a small industrial alcove beside the building's entrance. "I'm alright, but you don't seem to be," he probed. "Something the matter?"

"You mean you haven't heard?" she said, eyeing him. His silence prompted her to continue. "Two techs down in less than five seconds, courtesy of the Winter Soldier."

He sucked in a breath, tensing.

"Yeah," she said lowly, finally lighting her smoke. "Fury's had me studying him the last week. I submitted a report and he took it upon himself to have his people," she spat, "Give him some TLC. Now they're cooling off in the morgue."

Sam stayed silent and tense. The man needed a good massage. They all did. In the silence that ensued she inhaled deeply, feeling a bitter burn coat the back of her throat. Exhaling, she blew the smoke into his face. He winced, snapping out of it.

"It's been a while since we had a session," she said, staring at him intently.

"Yeah, I just.. I've been doing good recently. Steve's been trying to immerse himself in current culture and it's given me something to focus on."

She nodded, flicking the ashes on the pavement. "You know I'm only a text away, Butterfly."

His lips pursed fondly. "How's.. your research going?"

Now that was a good question. Good and bad didn't fit the bill; that was too subjective. She could say her research was progressing at a rate faster than expected, at least by SHIELD's expectations, but then again- their expectations were of a different calibre to her personal criteria.

"Things are developing as expected," she said, "In that, what HYDRA has done to the man exceeds what most could survive. Barnes is a wreck. Frankly, I'm surprised he's lived this long. And yet at the same time, it's a miracle he hasn't done more damage than he already has. I, personally, don't believe he is a lost cause."

Sam watched her intently. "You know how I feel about him, about all of it. Do you think it's justified?"

Another paradoxical question. "I think you are justified in your personal feelings towards him."

Sam just sighed, running his hands through his hair. She stared at him, lost in thought.

Lizbeth rarely felt emotions; rather, she experienced them but struggled to correctly process them. It leads to blunt speech and a complete obliteration of social cues. Not that Lizbeth couldn't read the cues or atmosphere, she just didn't give a damn to adapt to them. If people wanted to speak to her, they knew what they were getting into.

She had formed a comradery with Sam Wilson. The man had a standard form of PTSD. His experience in watching his best friend get knocked from the sky like a baseball had birthed a quiet pain in him. After being recruited by the great and holy Captain America, the former soldier had felt his wounds reopen. And of course, when Barnes had nearly killed the man atop the Helicarrier, the PTSD he had slowly been recovering from had been reborn like a demonic Jesus.

Sometimes it felt funny being a personal shrink to superheroes. When she'd been a child, one of the only programs she could glimpse on the old tube TV was an animated version of the Justice League. None of the Avengers had a JL feel, but she supposed Wilson would be Hawkman, and Clint would be Green Arrow.

"Well," Sam said, "Will you join Steve and I for a drink on Saturday?" Hope evident in his voice.

Lizbeth shook her head resolutely. "You know I don't mingle with you pringles."

He sighed, pushing off from the wall. "I think you need to socialise more than we need counselling."

She barked a laugh, flicking the butt to the pavement and stamping it out. "Now that, Wilson, is what makes you a funny man."

"I'll see you around?"

She nodded, fluttering her fingers in a farewell. "See you, soldat."

Harsh iridescent light scrutinised the immobile warrior as only inanimate objects can.

Chewing on a toothpick, Lizbeth stared at the prone form of James Barnes.

"Well?" Fury said.

Her eyes did not stray from Barnes. Unfocused but deep in thought, she gave the toothpick a particularly hard crunch.

"Do you want to know my thoughts on Barnes or your attempt at being an armchair psychologist?"

There was a vague grunt of resignation; Fury had been dealing with her for long enough to know when picking a fight was viable. Which would be never.

She spun around, pinning him with her pitch black eyes. Panda bags made them seem almost cartoonishly large, and the harsh lighting turned her almost paste white. A ghoulish figure if Fury had ever seen one.

"I think," she started, chewing musingly, "That I can have Barnes up and walking around the tower in less than a week. I mean I could have him at the dinner table with the Captain," she said with a grin, "tonight. But for safety's sake, you know that thing you didn't do earlier, I'd play Saturday as a good bet."

To Fury's credit, he didn't even twitch at the slight.

"Walk me through your method," he said, moving to stand beside her and watch Barnes.

Since a well-placed needle- rather, a thrown syringe from a higher ranking tech- Barnes had been out cold. Only three hours had passed since 'the incident' as it was now being referred to.

"Don't think that's a good idea," she mused.

Fury sighed. "Miss Burke, I cannot give you clearance to do anything unless I know what  you're doing."

"I don't need clearance," she said, shaking her head, "But I'll humour you. But, my dear man, if you try to undermine me, I'll be out of this tower and knee deep in southern mud before you realise I even knew."

It wasn't an idle threat, they both knew.

"So," she started, "What I'll be doing is fairly simple. I've read the dossier compiled on him and consulted Natasha on the 'Russian Methods'. What needs to happen first is Barnes understanding where he is. His dissonance is deep; when he doesn't know where he is, it means his mindset will not revert to Barnes, and he will remain the Winter Soldier."

Lizbeth tapped a small silver disk on the pane below the one-way window. "The microphone installed here will allow me to communicate with him for the time being. I'll require Rogers present as he is the only person Barnes knows he can trust, and also the only man who has knowledge on who Barnes really is. Once I've established 'first contact' and familiarised Barnes with the situation, I'll begin reconstructing his memories with associative prompts, imagery and lights."

"Seeing as he can't escape this awful room," she said with a disgusted glare at Fury's reflection, "The restraints can be removed. I want them gone, and his bed made properly. No white sheets or pillow. A quilt is important, as warmth is the opposite to his previous resting areas. He will be served old school American cuisine. Home cooked. Rogers can do that."

Fury stared at her with an unreadable expression. "Whatever happens," he said, "Is on you."

Lizbeth shimmied her eyebrows at him. "I know that."

"I'll leave you be then," he said, walking towards the door.

"Send Rogers up," she replied, "I still haven't met him, you know."

A/N: *Barcala is latin for an idiot, or a fool.

This is the second story in a 16 part series. This sounds like a lot, but keep in mind; this is already finished.

The first story is titled 'A Beautiful Mind' and is focused on Tony. ABM is finished and will be published soon.

It is NOT necessary to read ABM to understand this story.

The sequel to this fic is also finished, and so far I've typed and edited (sorta) 450k words. Can you believe that shit? I'm fucking amped over it.

[yourewelcomeforbeingmyfriend]

“You Have No Idea Who I Am, Do You?”

Summary: Sam and Dean learn they have a sister and she helps them hunt a siren. I’m already super great at summaries

Characters: Dean, Sam, Castiel, and sister!Reader

A/N: So this is my first ever attempt at writing fanfiction, so everyone please go easy on me. This is for @casbabydontgoineedyou​ ‘s 1K Follower Celebration. I’ve had the idea for this fic floating around in my head for a while now, so when I saw this prompt on her challenge I knew I needed to just take the leap. I’ve tagged her and a few of the other fic writers I follow just to get feedback. I hope that’s ok. Any feedback (but especially the positive kind) is welcome. Also, it’s kind of long. Sorry, my hand slipped. 

Warnings: Angst, language, canon-level fighting. Also no smut (sorry?)

Prompt: “You have no idea who I am, do you?” 

(gif from google) 

Sam’s POV

Dean pulled the Impala into the bunker’s garage. It felt good to be home after the long drive from North Dakota. You, Dean, and Cas had just finished up a run-of-the-mill vengeful spirit. You couldn’t help but laugh a little at the thought of a vengeful spirit being “run-of-the-mill.” What a weird life we lead.

“Cas, you’re welcome to hang out for a bit. I’m going to hit the sack,” you stretched out satisfyingly. The familiar halls were comforting, and your bed was calling you. You shuffled through the war room towards the library. The walk from the car to your bed always seemed laboriously long.  

Quickly and silently, a figure came out from behind the wall to stand at the top of the library steps, gun raised in a practiced stance. Behind the weapon was a (tall/average/short) (y/h/c) stranger. Just as quickly, you were awake again. We raised our guns in reply and Cas’s angel blade was in his hand.

Suddenly her shoulders softened as her gun lowered.

"Oh thank god you're here," she sighed. "I was in the hotel room when some grey suited guy came up to me and painted some crap on the wall. There was a bright light and next thing I know I'm in this Cold War hideout. I think we're underground. Are we underground? How’d we get here? Where's dinner?"

We exchanged glances again as our guns stayed up. A demon, maybe? But how did it get in here?

"Oh god –" the stranger’s voice wavered – "you guys have no idea who I am, do you?"

"Enlighten us, kid," Dean snorted.

A look of grief washed over her (y/e/c) eyes, "I'm your sister."

Reader POV

"Listen, kiddo," Dean began. "We don't have a sister."

You felt sick to your stomach. Your older brothers and some trench coat wearing stranger were standing – guns still drawn – looking between themselves and back at you with utter confusion. You were just as confused as they were. Less than an hour ago, you were in another crappy motel in Oklahoma hunting a ghost. They had just left for the usual beers and burgers.

The confusion must have shown on your face. Sam showed his hands and began to lower his gun, "okay, okay... let's all just take a minute here," he suggested. He was always the one to calm your fights.

"Thanks, Sammy," you cracked a relieved smile before a sudden splash of water hit your face. You blinked a couple times and spat out the bit that landed in your mouth, "Was that… holy water?"

"Just a precaution," Sam shrugged. He seemed a little surprised you guessed holy water.

You breathed a slow calming breath out your mouth as you bent down to reach for your ankle. You lifted up your right pant leg to unsheathe the small silver blade you kept there.

"Hey, whoa whoa whoa," your eldest brother said with his gun still trained on you.

You held your hands up to show you meant no harm. Then, with a quick move, you sliced into your hand and held it back up. "Not a monster either," you said confidently.

“So you know about monsters?” Dean questioned as he stole another glance at your other brother and the stranger.

“Of course,” you gave an exasperated sigh. This was all bordering on annoying. “I’ve only been hunting my whole goddamn life.”

That answer seemed to make Dean feel better because he finally dropped his gun and holstered it. There was an awkward silence as all four of you attempted to find the right questions to ask. Sam found it first.

"Wait – you said a guy in a grey suit came up to you, drew something on the wall and you saw a bright light?" Sam looked at Dean and the dark haired stranger, "Sound familiar?"

"Alternate universe?" Dean said more calmly than you thought those words should sound.

"An alternate one where you have a sister, apparently," the stranger's voice was gravelly. "But what would angels stand to gain from bringing her here?"

"Angels?" that word caught your attention. "Like halos, harps, and white robes?"

"More like assholes in suits," Dean scoffed.

"We're not all –" the stranger hesitated at his next word – "assholes."

"We?" You made eye contact with him and noticed, for the first time, how blue his eyes were.

Sam clapped a hand down on the man's shoulder. "This is Castiel. He's an angel, too, uh..." he looked sheepish at his realization, "I'm sorry, but we don't even know your name."

"Y/N. Y/N Winchester," there was a strange formality in your voice. How bizarre to introduce yourself to the two people who knew you best in the world. You rubbed your hands down the sides of your thighs. It was a nervous habit your older brothers always made fun of you for. But there were no comments about it today. You waved an arm towards your taller brother and added, "I'm two years younger than you, Sam."

Sam and Dean looked surprised at that statement. "S-so mom didn't die?" Sam stuttered.

It was your turn to be confused. You spent the next hour sitting with the boys, each taking turns sharing your stories. They told you how your mother died when Sam was a baby and only recently came back to life. Your dad died after years of seeking revenge for her death. Apparently the boys themselves even died a few times each. They were also legacies for some secret group called the Men of Letters and you were currently sitting in their bunker. Dean killed Death and this Castiel guy killed a reaper. Also God was real – or at least realer than church had always led people to believe. He was short and had a beard, a sister, and a love for crappy folk songs.

You always thought you lived an interesting life, but compared to their stories it seemed so normal – boring almost. You took your turn to tell them about the three of you being raised as hunters, and how Mom retired as best as possible after your dad was killed by a werewolf pack.

"Now it's just the three of us hunting down the things that go bump in the night," you shrugged as you finished.

"The family business," Dean chuckled weakly and swigged the beer he had fetched for himself.

"Yeah," Sam breathed out as he took a swig of his own. Mid-sip a realization seemed to dawn on him. “Oh god –” he gasped – “what if they need another vessel?”

“A what?” you took a hard gulp on your own beer now.

“For what?” Dean asked at the same time as you.

“It could be possible. It’s the one thing that makes sense,” Castiel stared at you intently as if you held the answer on your face.

“A what?” you ask again.

The boys proceeded to tell you all about angel vessels. About Michael and Lucifer – as in the devil himself – and how they stopped the apocalypse. According to them, the Winchesters had something special in their bloodline, at least in this universe, which made you guys the perfect vessels for them.

Before the conversation could go further, there was a ping from Sam’s cell phone. He looked down at it and frowned, “We’ve got another case. The Hobbits found a possible siren problem in Illinois.”

“Hobbits are real, too?” you sighed exasperatedly as you slapped your hands on the table in front of you. “What sort of Twilight Zone shit did I get sent to?”

Sam and Dean chuckled softly at the fact that your limit seemed to have been reached. At least Castiel seemed to take you seriously. If you didn’t know any better, you would almost say he seemed just as confused with the name as you were.

“No,” Sam explained, “it’s a nickname for some guys we’ve been working with. I can tell you more about it when we get back.

“Oh no, I’m going with you,” you said above the loud noise of the chair scraping along the floor. You stood from your seat, “Alternate universes and angels? I might not get those things. But monsters? Monsters I get. And the last time you guys…” your thoughts trailed off at that phrase. These weren’t your guys. You collected yourself fast, though, “…well, the last time my guys dealt with a siren, I had to save their asses.” You chuckled at the thought that Dean’s perfect girl was apparently a lot like the girl from a pie commercial you would always see on TV.

“Was it at least a girl siren that time around?” Dean asked. Sam laughed at his brother’s question.

“O-of course it was. W-why would it… not be –” for some reason that was the question that threw you off the most out of everything you had heard over the past hour.

“– no reason,” Dean stood and cut you off before you could finish inquiring. “Alright kiddo. If monsters you get, then it’s monsters you will get. We leave in five,” he announced to the group with a rap of his knuckles on the table and walked down the hall.

Sam’s POV

I have a younger sister, you thought to yourself. The thought just kept washing over you like waves on the beaches you always dreamed about. You had a younger sister, who had a mom who lived to raise her. That meant you had a mom who lived to raise you, too. It was like finding out someone else lived out your dream life and that someone else was also somehow you.

You couldn’t help but keep stealing glances at Y/N, this woman who didn’t exist just a couple hours ago. You could see bits of your mom and dad on her face as she spoke. She moved like Dean, too, which was strange to you. They swigged their beers the same way; she even had the same annoyed look on her face when you splashed her with holy water. You wondered what she did that looked like you.

You had so many questions to ask her, but you knew now wasn’t the time. After you finished this hunt, you would help her get back to her universe. Back to her brothers.

Once you had arrived to the small Illinois town, it was evident that Y/N could handle herself on a hunt. She knew what to ask and how to act. You would even dare to say she was better than both you and your brother.

Three husbands and one boyfriend killed their wives and girlfriends. After talking with them all, you discovered that they had all been frequenting the same restaurant – the type of restaurant with a proclivity for hiring beautiful waitresses to wear tight shirts and short shorts.

“Another breastaurant with you two. This is definitely something that feels familiar,” Y/N said wryly as the four of you entered and surveyed the scene.

You looked at her with a confused expression. “We go to these together?” you ask her.

“Well, it’s not always my turn to pick dinner. I had to work at one of these before for a case, too. The worst week of my life…” her voice trails off as she walks toward a table.

“Ugh, things like this aren’t as much fun with a sister,” Dean grumbled as he goes along with her. You and Cas followed in their wake.

Reader’s POV

After spending the day talking with the local police and vetting leads, the four of you decide to split up. Sam would go talk to the victims again while Dean and Castiel would go back and check out the restaurant. You decided it might be best for you to just take a short walk and collect your thoughts, maybe even pick up a change of clothes, since you weren’t sure how long you would be in this universe.

After about an hour of walking aimlessly, you decided to head back to the motel room for a quick nap. You hadn’t slept for the past 24 hours and it was now hitting you like a semi.

“Hey kid,” Dean said as you entered the motel room.

“I thought you were going to go check out the restaurant one more time,” you questioned as you peeled your jacket off and threw it on the bed with your shopping bags.

“I thought it’d be easier for Cas to go it alone. He tends to not get as affected by seduction crap like this since he’s you know…” he waved his hand in a circle in front of his face signaling you to fill in the rest of the thought yourself.

“Right, angels and all that jazz,” you rubbed your palms on the sides of your thighs again as you sat at the end of the bed closest to the door.

“You’re just in time for a drink, though,” Dean held up the motel tumblers and a bottle of whiskey. He flashed a toothy smile, “Join me, little sis?”

You nodded and closed your eyes in quiet contentment as he poured the two glasses. You wouldn’t be able to explain it to him, but this was the most at home you felt since you were sent to this universe: drinking a couple fingers of whiskey in some crappy motel room with your oldest brother.

He proffered your glass with another smile and you sipped happily. The burn felt good as it made its way down your chest and settled at your core.

“Thanks,” you chuckled weakly. You lifted your glass and nodded towards it, “this was definitely much needed.”

“Stop doing that, Y/N/N,” he pointed his glass at your hand that was still rubbing its palm up and down the length of your thigh. “You’re always doing that when you’re nervous. You don’t have to be nervous here.”

The familiarity of the whiskey and the motel room had thrown you off your senses. You didn’t flinch when Dean called you by the nickname that your Dean would always call you, but this universe’s Dean wouldn’t know about your nervous habit like that. You realized something was wrong, but just as quickly, you could feel your brain giving up control. You felt like clay: malleable and soft. You knew you’d do anything this Dean would tell you to do.

Dean stood up and stretched his arms out above his head, “oh Y/N, you should really pay more attention when people give you drinks.” He walked in front of you, bent at the waist and met your eyes. “Someone could put something in them. Didn’t your brothers teach you better than that?” he frowned and tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

“W-what did you do?” but you could feel yourself not care about the answer. You just wanted to hear him talk. No, you needed to hear him talk.

He sucked in a quick breath through his clenched jaw, “well, technically speaking… I spat in your drink. I know – gross. But then, what are brothers for?” he sat on the opposite bed and leaned back on one elbow with a smug look. “You know,” he pointed at you, “I usually only go for men but you…” he sat back up and placed his elbows on his knees as he leaned towards you, “you were just dripping with longing. It radiated off of you. It was so… so…” he waved his hands around as he struggled to find the right word, “…intoxicating. Once I saw you I just knew I had to have you.”

You couldn’t focus properly. Every cell in your body just needed to be around Dean. Your insides screamed out their desire to have your brother back. To have more of those simple moments like the ones you shared before, drinking whiskey in motel rooms or singing along to Led Zeppelin in the Impala. Something was telling you that this Dean could give you that.

“Come on, Y/N, think about it. It could be just like it used to be. The two Winchesters against the world,” it was like he read your mind. “We’ll get Sammy, hop in the Impala, and just drive,” he extended his arm out beyond him with a little whoosh noise. “Doesn’t that sound good?”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” you smiled. Relief washed over you. Happiness flooded in. It was like sinking in to a warm bath. You had your Dean back. He got to this universe, too. You thought. We’ll get Sammy and be a family again. We’ll be normal again.

“But kiddo,” Dean pouted, “there’s one thing you got to do first.” He leaned forward to whisper in your ear. “You’ve got to kill this Sam and Dean. Otherwise, they’ll stop us from being a family again.”

Your blood began to boil. No one was going to stop you from having your family back.

Suddenly the door opened and Sam’s tall figure filled the doorframe. He stopped short at the sight of the siren’s Dean.

“What the –” it took Sam a moment to process what he was seeing – “Y/N, what’s going on?”

“Sam, you’re just in time,” you smiled up at him. “My Dean is here. He found me. It’s all going to be okay again. We’re going to be a family again. There’s just one thing left for me to do,” you dropped your glass, stood up and simultaneously grabbed your knife from your ankle.

“Y/N, please don’t make me fight you,” Sam walked into the room with his hands raised.

His words made you laugh heartily, “oh Sam, we’ve been fighting each other since I was eight. I can kick your ass.” As you finished the last comment, you quickly spun under his outstretched arm, hopped on the dresser, and had your knife at his throat. You gripped his hair with your other hand to bare his neck for the attack.

“Do it, Y/N/N,” the siren Dean encouraged as he stood up. “We’ll be together again. Think about it: you’re nothing without your brothers. You’re nothing to these three.”

“That’s not true, Y/N,” Sam gasped from under your blade. “He’s not your Dean. Don’t listen to him. It’s the siren just trying to use you.”

“No, it’s my Dean. He’s come here to get me because he loves me,” your voice was bordering on madness now. “You’re not my Sam, so you don’t know. We’re going to get my Sam. You, Dean and Castiel can’t get me back to them. You don’t even know what you’re doing, and you certainly don’t love me.” Your words had venom in them as gripped onto his hair tighter. Your blade nicked his neck and drew a small bead of blood.

“That’s it, Y/N, take him out and you’ll just have two more to finish,” siren Dean was beaming with excitement. “Where are the people you love now, Y/N? Kill him and you’ll be that much closer to having them back. We’ll be back together. You’ll be with all the people who love you.”

At that moment, the real Dean and Castiel were at the still-open door. Dean took in the scene and yelled as he ran towards you and Sam.

You answered back with a yell of your own and shoved your brother at Dean to stop him. There was so much commotion as you dodged and weaved from their fists and attempted to slash at them. Years of practice fighting with them along with the passion to end their lives made it easy. You were high on the adrenaline of the fight and finding your real brother. Nothing was going to stop you.

You swept at this universe’s Dean’s legs and pinned him down once he reached the ground. There was a mad grin on your face as you reached your knife above your head to plunge it in to his heart. Before you brought down the blade, a sharp pain radiated from your shoulder and you screamed out to the ceiling. Castiel had stabbed you in the shoulder and threw the knife to Sam just in time to sink it deep into the siren’s chest.

“No!” you screamed as you watched your Dean sink to the floor then, almost in the blink of an eye, turn into its true form. It was a pale and disgusting creature with teeth bared in a lip-less mouth. You could feel the siren’s hold on you release as you realized your knife was still poised to attack Dean.

You pushed yourself off of him and began shaking with sobs. “I’m so sorry!” you wept and crawled backwards towards the wall. “I’m so sorry!”

The ride home was silent. You sat in the backseat of the Impala and willed yourself to go to sleep, but to no avail.

“Well we both had sirens that wanted to be our siblings, so maybe we really are related,” Dean chuckled in an attempt to ease the tension.

It didn’t work. You gave a half-hearted laugh out of politeness as you brought your knees up to your chest. You could feel Castiel staring at you as you focused on the horizon beyond your window. You felt sick to your stomach for what seemed like the millionth time in the past two days. You were disgusted with yourself for being so easily won over by the siren.

Next thing you knew, you were back at this strange bunker. Your mind must have finally quieted to allow yourself some rest.

“I’m going to drink a liquor store,” Dean mumbled as he walked toward the kitchen.

Castiel and Sam sat at a table in the library and Sam rubbed at his temples. You could see the dried blood on his neck from your cut and it both enraged and sickened you.

“Who’s hungry?” Dean had returned with a plate of sandwiches and a case of beers.

Sam gave a groan of approval as he reached for his own. "Join us, Y/N!" Sam patted the chair next to him invitingly.

"Thanks, Sammy," you flash a weak smile, "but I think I'm just going to hit the hay." Waving a weak goodnight, you made your way down the narrow hallway to your new room.

You were in a new universe. You thought about the one you came from just a couple days ago. With the siren hunt, you were able to push the thoughts out of your mind. You were in a universe where almost everything was the same. Everything except the most important thing – you didn’t exist here. There were no traces of you. You thought of your brothers. Not the ones sitting down the hall together with their best friend, laughing and enjoying the lives they built for themselves here, but the two you were taken from. What happened when they came back and saw you missing? You were sure they were looking for you. You knew more than anything else they tried to protect you from the horrors of the life you three led. They would be up worrying themselves sick. Your mother would be broken with grief.

You were taken from them for god knows how long and you still didn’t know why. You felt used. The siren’s words kept creeping in to your thoughts. You’re nothing without your brothers. You’re nothing to these three. Where are the people who love you now?

You could feel the heat on your cheeks and a lump grew in your throat as you closed the door to this foreign bedroom behind you. As you turned and leaned your back against the door you choked out a quiet sob. You covered your mouth quickly so as not give away your secret as you slowly slid down to the floor to continue weeping.

Where are the people that love you now?

Tags:

@winchesters-favorite-girl​ @winchester-sis-imagines​ @wheresthekillswitch​ @emilywritesaboutdean​ @greenappleeyes

[dingoes8myrp]

Supernatural: The Man with No Name, Chapter 17

This is a chaptered fanfiction piece taking place during season 14 of Supernatural.

Premise

This story takes place after episode 14.02 “Gods and Monsters.”

The arrival of John Winchester raises many questions, and gives us a glimpse into a world in which a few vital moments went a different way.

Notes: This piece is being crossposted on my Ao3.

Seventeen

Dean crossed the bunker to the door just as a determined knocking started. Dean waved a hand at the concerned looks he got.

“Relax. Food’s here.”

Jack had texted from the car.

Dean opened the door to come face to face with a stack of take-out containers.

“Woah.”

He took a few off the top to reveal Jack’s face.

“Thanks,” Jack said.

For a second, Jack almost looked alarmed. But, he was moving past Dean to the main part of the bunker. Castiel walked in carrying several bags.

“Wow. Mom wasn’t kidding about getting everybody breakfast,” Dean muttered.

He looked around for Mary as Castiel came in the door.

“Where’s Mom?”

He closed the door and grabbed a few bags from Castiel.

“She’s still looking into that John Doe at the police station,” Castiel said.

“The what?” Dean asked.

He followed Cas to the main part of the bunker, where they started setting down bags and removing Sharpied take-out containers.

“Sam didn’t tell you?” Castiel asked.

“Tell me what?” Dean muttered.

They were interrupted by the brief feeding frenzy as everyone searched for their boxes. Dean grabbed his own and Sam’s before leaving everyone to it.

-

Sam woke abruptly to a sharp knock on his door.

“Sammy!”

Dean’s voice made Sam sit up, squinting, his vision still cloudy with sleep.

“Dean?” he called.

“You decent?”

Sam sat up.

“What?”

Dean opened Sam’s bedroom door and strolled in carrying a styrofoam container.

Why did restaurants still use those? Non-biodegradable. Potentially cancer-causing.

“Breakfast,” Dean said.

He set the container down on Sam’s bedside table.

“Oh. Thanks,” Sam muttered.

He looked around for his phone, patted his jeans pocket and found it there. He hadn’t even pulled off his shoes, emptied his pockets. He’d just fallen onto the bed and crashed.

“Cas says Mom’s looking into some John Doe?” Dean said. “What’s that about?”

“Oh,” Sam said. “Yeah.”

He ran a hand over his face, trying to come back to the waking world.

“Sean and Chloe got the police scanner working. Heard about a John Doe they brought to the police station.”

“Yeah? So?”

“So, they thought it might be someone from Apocalypse World,” Sam said. “Someone who made it through the portal, but didn’t make it back here.”

Dean considered that.

“Kind of a long shot, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is,” Sam agreed. “But, I said I’d check it out. Just in case. Mom volunteered to go instead.”

“Well, she’s still lookin’ into it,” Dean said. “Maybe it turned into something.”

Sam ran his thumb across his cell phone screen. He’d been asleep for about two hours. He pulled up Mary’s number and sent a text.

“I’m texting her. We’ll see what she says,” Sam told Dean.

Dean nodded, but didn’t seem too interested.

“You eat?” Sam asked.

“No, not yet. Not really hungry.”

Sam studied his brother.

“Did you sleep?”

“Yeah, I slept.”

Sam gave him a skeptical look.

“Really.”

“Yeah, Sam. Really,” Dean barked. “What about you?”

Sam sighed.

“I was up late. Woke up early. Took a nap. There’s a lot going on. A lot to juggle.”

“Well, I’m back now. So stop tryin’ to juggle it alone.”

Sam blinked at him.

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You’re doing what you always do, Sam. Taking everything on, everybody’s problems, and you’re trying to be the hero, fix everything at once.”

“Who else is going to do it, Dean?” Sam snapped. “This is our life. This is what we do. Mom’s been running around working cases. And you’ve been…”

Dean gave him an icy look and Sam caught himself.

“Look, I’m doing my best, okay? And, yeah, it’s hard. I’m the last one down and the first one up, and there’s a lot I’m trying to keep track of. But, what else am I supposed to do? I brought these people here and I promised them we’d find a way to save their world.”

“And we will, Sam. WE will.”

“How?” Sam asked.

Dean shrugged.

“We’ll figure it out. We always do. I know I’ve been… M.I.A. and I’m sorry about that. It wasn’t part of the plan.”

Sam sighed.

“Dean…”

“But, I’m here now. I’m back.”

Sam let out a scoffing sound, an incredulous half-laugh.

“No you’re not.”

Dean blinked at him in surprise.

“You’re not back, Dean. I mean, you’re here, and you’re you. But, you’re not here.”

Dean frowned.

“You lost me.”

Sam combed his fingers through his hair.

“I get it, okay? Believe me. Having an archangel inside you, it’s…”

“Don’t,” Dean warned.

Sam frowned. Dean’s voice wasn’t a loud bark or an angry hiss. There was a break in it. When Dean looked at him, Sam saw big, fearful eyes.

“Just don’t,” Dean said.

Sam softened and took a breath, nodding.

“Okay,” he said.

He opened his take-out container.

“Dude, what is this?” he asked.

“Your breakfast.”

Sam pulled out a massive breakfast sandwich.

“This is a heart attack in a box,” he said.

Dean smiled wide.

“You’re welcome.”

-

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen, Chapter Fourteen, Chapter Fifteen, Chapter Sixteen, Chapter Eighteen, Chapter Nineteen, Chapter Twenty, Chapter Twenty-One, Chapter Twenty-Two, Chapter Twenty-Three,  Chapter Twenty-Four, Chapter Twenty-Five, Chapter Twenty-Six, Chapter Twenty-Seven