#against dean i-sold-my-soul-for-my-little-brother-and-i-will-do-it-again-without-hesitation winchester

[sheathnknife]

the vampire diaries 8.16 // louise gluck, crossroads

“and damon, like the voiceover tell us, he was worried he would never see stefan again. it was just elena assuring him that there would be peace. that we’ve dealt with this other side of darkness for several seasons, but there’s also light out there and there’s peace, and damon will find it. if you search for it, you will find it. and we wanted to get that last moment to see that [...] damon found it too, and it looked just like his brother.” — kevin williamson

[nancylou444]

I forgot if i sent it to u or someone else so i'm sending it again anyway

Please Read this to the end and then judge me.

I do not understand at all why you and all other anti destiels dont ship destiel and think that dean is straight and i hate you for that from the bottom of my heart. i mean cant you see how dean truely loves cas and gives no shit about Sam, his brother?and also jensen and writers ship it.

You are so stupid and do not deserve to live in this world period

Read this list below.it may help you take off your anti destiel colored glasses and Accept the truth:which in fact is that Destiel Will become canon.

Reasons Why Destiel Will Definitely Become Canon Before The Show Ends 101:

1.Jensen Ackles: Destiel Doesn't Exist.

2.Jensen Ackles: Because Dean is a lover of the LADIES.

3.Dean will always choose SAM over anyone else.

4.SAM and Dean are soulmates.

5.Castiel: you chose EACHOTHER.

6.Jensen Ackles' Unscripted Frustrated look into the camera in "Fan Fiction" episode.wink wink

7.Jensen Ackles: there wasn't a whole lot of dean and cas storylines in season 9.personally,i kind of enjoyed that.

8.Jensen Ackles: i think the whole dean and cas thing has gotten a little out of proportion.

9.Jensen Ackles: "destiel is real" is it?? Where?? Where is it real??

10.Jensen Ackles: What? What castiel? Nah just me and my pies!

11.Jensen Ackles: We sit down with the writers in a couple weeks. It boils down to these two brothers, that’s the core and the heart of the show, their journey, their fight for each other.

12. “You are homophobic if you don’t ship destiel!"

13.Dean Winchester is fuckin Straight.

14.Eric Kripke : I'm just really interested in guys, STRAIGHT guys who have a tight friendship,they are really fun to write...

15.Dean Winchester: I'm Dean winchester.i enjoy sunsets,long walks on the bitch and frisky WOMEN.

16.Dean Winchester : I dont swing that way.sorry.

17.Dean winchester : yeah sorry again pal i dont play for your team.

18.Dean sold his soul for SAM.

19.Dean died so that he could meet with Death and get SAM’s soul back which of course Castiel left in hell.

20.Dean gave away the Impala and was willing to die with a Croatoan infected SAM.

21.Dean breathed in the poisonous smoke, so that he would die with SAM.

22.Dean wanted out of an AU with Mary and Jessica alive, because AU!SAM didn’t like Dean that much.

23.SAM and Dean made promise to each other, made vows to each other really, in a church.

24.SAM and Dean choose each other over the world, anything, and everything, EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.

25. Dean refers to SAM as though HE is his spouse (”does he want a divorce?”, “Lucy”...)

26.Dean would rather live in a world WITH demons than live in a world WITHOUT SAM.

27.When Dean forgot everything else, including his own name, he still remembered SAM.

28.Dean : I can’t do it without my brother, I don’t want to 

29.Dean to Sam :You’re the ONLY one who could’ve talked me out of it 

30.Dean to Sam :There ain’t no me if there ain’t no YOU.

31.Dean to Sam :“Because whatever we have between us, love, family, whatever this is, they’re always going to us it against us.”

32.Dean to Sam: “You’re my weak spot SAMMY, and I’m yours”

33.Dean or Sam i dont remember: “All that matters now, all that’s ever mattered, is that we’re together.“

34. Dean to Sam :“Don’t you dare think that there is anything, past or present, that I would put in front of you!“

35.Dean to Sam : “I made you a promise in that church, you and me, come whatever!”

36.The canon friendship between Dean and Castiel is toxic and borderline-abusive, full of lies, threats, insults, abandonment, beatings, and betrayals.

37. Sam, possessed by the devil himself, took control of his own body and beat Lucifer because Dean was there, because Dean didn’t give up even though he was hurt and covered in blood, because seeing Dean bombarded Sam with the memories of their life together.

38. Dean didn’t leave SAM’s bedside , didn’t bury him, didn’t burn his body, didn’t want to say goodbye, and how later he didn’t hesitate to sell his soul.

39.Dean decided not to go into a box, because SAM asked him not to.

40.SAM and Dean were the ones whom were mistaken with gay couple by several people if that matters.

41.SAM to Dean :“you always put me first. Your whole life”,

42.Dean to SAM: “I know where I am at my best, and that is right here, driving down crazy street next to you”,

43.Sam or Dean i dont remember:“you know what brought me back? You did”.

44.Dean’s siren-as admitted by the siren herself-was a copy of SAM.

45.Dean told a male cop "you're awsome".OMG!! He is bi!!!

46.Dean fanboyed over a male tv character.Holy Chuck!! He is bi!!

47.Jensen or Jared:“At its core, it’s the story of two brothers.”

48.Jensen or Jared:“At the end of the day, this starts and stops with the brothers.”

49.Jensen or Jared:“When it comes down to it, it’s about these two brothers.”

50.Dean told Castiel to get the hell outta bunker for SAM while he knew he didnt have his angel powers.Damn! Dean truely loves Cas!

51.Dean figured Castiel was too far gone to be convinced back into their group and bound Death to do their bidding. Dean’s order to Death was to kill Castiel where he stood.#couplegoals

52.Castiel blackmailed Dean by torturing SAM.oh dear god!!! What a True Lover!!

53.Castiel Betrayed sam amd DEAN with crowley.but that's what all lovers do Right???

54.This isnt some romantic show.

55. Castiel is a genderless celestial wavelength of light wearing a male vessel.

56.Dean's chemistry with Baby the Impala is far more noticable than the one with Castiel.

57.Sam even once asked Dean and Baby the impala to get a room.

58.The possibility of Dean and Baby the impala to get sexually involved and the two of them having sex in the finale full frontal is far more than the possibility of non existant Destiel to become canon.

59.Destiel shippers are only a tiny minority of the SPN fandom.

60.Jensen Ackles is fucking done with this shit.

61.Dean left Ben and Lisa for SAM.

62.Misha Collins is the only one who queerbaits.

63.Dean in "red meat" described SAM as the man he loved.

64.Dean sang in a colorful background.OMFG!! he is bi!!

65.Jesen ackles : because being with his BROTHER and doing that is the happiest he is.

66.Dean to SAM: "because i couldnt live with you dead"

67.What show you've been watching???

68.Jared : because that would have RUINED the show to make it about something it wasnt about.

69.Dean has kissed and had sex with an angel.her name was Anna

70.Sera Gamble said “supernatural is the epic love story of SAM and dean”

71.Cw_supernatural IG: it has always been two brothers and the open road.

.

.

.

*Manic laughter*

*Aggressively drop the mic*

*The door is over there*

*Boom! Suck it*

*It sucks to be destieheller*

You are very welcome

Btw I'm a Proud anti destiew and a logical SPN fan.

If You think I'm right,then Chuck bless your logical souls and if not,let me find some fucks to give....sorry,none was found.

The begining part was an example of a savage destieheller.it wasn't me😊ignore it.

Yours truly,anon.

=============================

Holy crap, that is one longass ask. An ask I was thisclose to deleting until I skipped to the bottom. 

💖💖💖💖💖

[demonsofhunting]

All My Sins - Chapter 9

Pairing: priest!Cas x demon!Dean

Summary: Finally! Dean is appearing at Castiel's doorstep out of nowhere. What happened to him? What made him leave? The priest wants answers - the worries are killing him, even though he's more than just happy to see his boyfriend. And Dean is willing to talk...

Warnings: FLUFF ( yay! XD ), implied smut, angst, mentions of past abuse and murder...

Words: about 1800

A/N: Welcome to chapter nine! Now, you'll finally get some answers...I can't hold it back much longer. XD Prepare for some serious emotions and tears. Gawd, I love my precious babies so damn much! *sobbing*

Catch up here ( Masterlist ) :D

I hope you'll like it! Enjoy! <3

"Dean?" Cas rasps, his voice nothing but a tiny whisper. Dean Winchester smiles, cocking his head. Oh, how Cas loves his smirk...and those green, green eyes... "The one and only," he mutters, blinking with his long lashes. Then he looks down, suddenly nervous. He swallows hard, and his gaze is meeting Cas' again. There are tears in his eyes. "Damn it, Cas, I - ", he begins, but gets interrupted by the priest, who pushes him against the wall, just to kiss him in desperation. Dean does the same, his hands are running over Castiel's chest, touching him like he's the most precious thing in the world. Damn, it feels so good... Cas moans, as Dean pulls away, slowly. After a heavy breath, the young man says: "God, I missed you so fucking much!" "Same here," Cas whispers, stroking the other's cheek, gently. I could stare at these freckles forever. "Dean...what the hell happened? I...I thought I was going insane and - ", Cas stutters, but hesitates as Dean kisses him again, softly. "Not now, honey," he whispers into the priest's ear, making him shiver, "I promise that I'll tell you everything tomorrow. But...all I want right now is feel you, Cas. Everywhere. Please." His voice is so dark and soft, but filled with love and Castiel can feel his knees going weak almost immediately. "Promise?" he mutters, but he already knows that he lost the 'discussion'. Dean smiles, widely. He raises an eyebrow, licking his lips. "I promise," he answers with a wink. "Perfect," Cas mutters, and pulls him closer.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- As Castiel wakes up the next morning, he feels awesome. After many nights with Meg, that were everything but quite enjoyable, the time with Dean was...incredible. As always. It's like they just know what the other wants, what he desires. They can communicate without words, and that's what makes their bond so special. The priest smiles to himself, as he turns around in bed, just to find Dean sleeping next to him. God...how can anybody look so beautiful while sleeping?! I bet I look like a troll while I'm asleep. He takes himself a couple of minutes to just simply appreciate the other's presence. His gaze is flowing over Dean's soft lineaments, enjoying every single detail. He's here. With me. And we're safe. The priest sighs, as the young man opens his eyes, slowly. "Hey," he mutters with a mild smile, "Why are you staring at me like a creep?" "'Cause I love you. Am I not allowed to appreciate a work of art when I see it?" Castiel answers, smirking. His heart is filled with so much warmth, that it feels like it's going to explode. He leans forth, until his lips are stroking over Dean's cheek, gently. "Okay. Now tell me," he whispers, blinking, "What happened to you?" Dean's eyes are going dark for a second, but it vanishes after a moment or two. "Are you sure that you want to know it?" the other says, seriously. He looks at Cas, questioning. The priest nods. "I am. Please, Dean. Talk to me," he begs, quietly. His heart is already beating faster, and he forces himself to calm down. There will be a harmless explanation for things...please let there be a harmless explanation... "I did bad things, Cas", Dean says after a few heartbeats of silence, "I killed people. And it was fun." Castiel blood runs cold. "Dean..." "No. Please. You need to hear it all to understand it. Just hang on, okay?" The priest nods, weakly. He can feel the tears coming up his throat, and Dean grabs his hand, softly. The other's touch is warm and familiar, and it makes Castiel calm down a little. He breathes in, deeply, as Dean continues: "It all began about three years ago. I...you know what I told you about my father? The way he treated me and my brother?" Cas nods. "After Sammy was gone, I...I just couldn't take it anymore. I knew that he wouldn't let me go. I knew that he would find me anywhere. And if he wouldn't be able to find me, he would go after Sam. I still don't know how he could become such an awful person. Anyway, Sammy was gone and I was in absolute despair. My father was worse than he had ever been, forcing me into...let's just say a life I didn't want to live. I didn't saw a light at the end of the tunnel, so I made a very awful decision. Actually, I did some research for fun as I stumbled upon the legends of crossroad demons and the deals that they are making if you ask them to do so. So...it said that they would make every wish come true. And all I wanted was to be free. So I got to a crossroad far, far away from town, and did the ritual to summon one. A - and it worked. I sold my soul for one purpose: that my dad would just disappear and never bother me or my brother again." He swallows, heavily, and closes his eyes. It seems like the memories are hurting him, awfully. Castiel's mouth is open, slightly, his fingers are curled around Dean's like he is the other's only anchor in this moment of truth. "Oh, Dean...", he whispers. "It worked. My father died, in the exact moment I sealed the deal with the demon. Heartattack. It was so damn simple. At first, I was filled with relief, but then I began to realise what I just did. I killed my father. I was a fucking monster. And as if this wasn't enough, this son of a bitch from a demon was kind enough to tell me, that now that they have my soul, they will feed from it until I will become one of them. They gave me about three years until I will  go completely crazy. That was the price I had to pay. Not a very good deal, if you ask me. I totally fucked up. The next months I basically spent with lots of sex, alcohol and drugs, doing everything to drown my thoughts, so that I didn't need to think about how terrible my future was going to be. After a while I decided that this was stupid as hell, and ran out of town. I tried to find a solution for my problem. I asked everyone that I came across, psychics and stuff, but nobody could help me. They felt all very sorry for me, but none of them could do something to save me from the darkness that was growing bigger and bigger inside my heart and mind. I could feel it crawling under my skin, a thirsty, terrible monster. It spoke to me, always tried to make me do bad things. And sometimes, I gave in. And it felt so damn good. The feeling of seeing a person's life fade into their eyes when they die...it turns me on. And that's just sick. I hate what I am, Cas. I hate it so fucking much." Castiel blinks, biting his lip. He tells himself to stay calm. We can get through this. We will find a solution. Together. "But you haven't hurt me, Dean. You aren't a bad person. We can fix this," he says. "Maybe. Maybe not. All I know is that this -you and me - wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't meant to fall in love. But I did. And I left the town, because I didn't want to hurt you. I felt that things were getting worse, and I tried to run from myself. There are hounds of hell wherever I go. They're chasing me, making me go crazy. It almost seems that they're waiting for me to lose my humanity completely," Dean tells the priest, staring into the void. The other hesitates: "So...whenever you seemed to see something that wasn't there, this were hellhounds? Like the thing that almost got me to drive into a tree?" His eyes are going wide. Dean nods. "But as you can see, now I'm back," he continues with a weak smile, "I just couldn't stay away from you. Actually, I felt my insanity getting stronger and stronger as I drove away...I think you're something like my anchor. Without you, I need to kill." After these words, they're both silent for a couple of seconds. "Holy shit," Castiel burst out, eventually. "I know," Deam sighs, biting his bottom lip, "You just slept with a murderer. Congrats." "I cleaned up your house, Dean," the priest admits, suddenly, and the other stops. "What?" "I cleaned everything up. I - I buried the body. I made sure that nobody would find something suspicious in there," Castiel whispers, and suddenly, there are tears streaming down his cheeks, "Dean, I...it was awful!" Dean pulls the priest closer, softly. He kisses the other's forehead. A single tear is running down his cheek. "I...I'm so sorry, Cas. I - " he says, his voice rough, and filled with pain and regret. "No, no. It's okay," Cas determines, fastly, "It...it wasn't your fault. We...we'll find a solution. I promise." Dean looks at him with nothing but desperation in his eyes. "Cas, you don't understand! There is no escaping! It's just a matter of time, and then I'll - " And for a moment, his eyes are flashing black. It's absolutely terrifying, and the priest winces. The darkness vanishes again like nothing happened and Cas can feel a claw clutching around his heart. He swallows, looking at Dean with determination in his eyes. "We will get through it, okay? I don't believe that you tried everything that's possible to get you out of this stupid deal,"he says. "But - " "No. We'll get you out of this misery. Or we'll find a way for you to live with it." "To live with it?! Cas, I am a killer!" "And?" "And?!" "I love you. I can't help but I love you. That means I am part of this misery as well, and you can't change my mind. I've already gone through hell for you, Dean, and I'm ready to do it again." Castiel raises his chin, and looks into Dean's eyes. He watches the other's gaze soften, slowly. The young man cries, as he curls his arms around Cas, holding on to his love in desperation. "Thank you," he whispers into the priest ear, burying his face on the other's chest. I've already gone through hell for you, and I'm ready to do it again.

( A/N: CHAPTER TEN <3 )

And that was chapter nine! Thank you so much for reading, and if you would like to leave a comment or reblog this shit,I will love you forever! <3

Tag lists are open!

Destiel/Forever Tags:

@adoptdontshoppets

@rebeloftheseas

@ablavalba

@smodernlife

@ignis-glaciesque

@certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel

@xsghn

@helpmeluci

@trenchcoatsandfreckles

@legendary-destiel

@leahslovelylibrary

"All My Sins" Tags:

@emodestielshipper

@emumag

@waywardtricksterangel

@didntwanderstillgotlost

@angel-e-v-a

@burnigontheceiling

@too-old-for-fangirling-but-idc

[whispersandwhiskerburn]

Moving On

Summary:After a hunt goes badly wrong, the Reader ends up in the hospital. She’s accepted what’s coming, but she’s having a hard time convincing Dean to let go. Sam says his goodbyes. Pairing: Dean x Reader Word Count: 3,235 Warnings: Angst. So much angst. Tears. Hair-rending. Etc. Reader death (see the summary). I bawled multiple times myself while writing this—and I think that’s the most accurate warning I can give. Author’s Note: I wrote this angsty thing because I was inspired by Ana (@just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms)’s “Shit My Patients Say” 2k Challenge where I chose the prompt: “Where are all the cute doctors?” and Angelina(@atc74)’s 1k Celebration where I picked the first stanza of “I’m Moving On” by Rascal Flatts (you should listen before reading…it definitely sets the mood). Both of these awesome challenges are still open at time of posting, and deadlines aren’t until May, so check them out! This fic is set during Season 3, when Dean’s soul is sold and Castiel isn’t in the picture yet. Apologies for any medical inaccuracies. Also for the tears.

What kind of ghost isn’t repelled by salt? And stays completely invisible?

You were hurt. The blood was running from several deep cuts, almost like claw marks that had sliced into your stomach, ripping the fabric of your jacket to shreds. Ripping your skin to shreds.

It didn’t move or sound like a hell hound—but that was your closest comparison.

Except that made no sense either.

You were hurt. And you were scared.

You stumbled into another room with one arm clenched around your stomach, and saw movement from the corner of your eye, a shadow that didn’t belong in the room. A shadow that was growing.

Ghosts didn’t cast shadows. Neither did hell hounds.

What the fuck was this thing?

“Y/N?! Where are you?”

You heard Sam and Dean down the hall. No way they’d get here before that shadow reached you.

“Here!”

You aimed your shotgun, useless as it seemed to be, and fired. Maybe it wouldn’t do anything more than draw the boys towards you, but at least you’d go down fighting.

The gun was knocked from your hand, and you were thrown across the room, landing on your back. You felt those claws sink into the flesh there and you couldn’t help the scream that forced its way out of your mouth.

Your legs went numb, but you could feel the blood pooling around you, could smell it in the air. You managed to glance up at the wall in front of you and saw the shadow of a hooded figure with fingers like Edward Scissorhands.

Then the door slammed open and Sam and Dean rushed in, Dean wielding his own salt-filled shotgun and Sam with an iron bar.

“Not a ghost!” You pointed at the wall, but the shadow was already moving, and the edges of the room were getting darker.

“Dean, it’s a daeva! Flare!”

What the hell was a daeva? The room wasn’t getting darker… you were passing out. Your vision was almost gone, your hearing getting fuzzy.

You heard the snap and saw a bright glare as one of the Winchesters lit a flare, then an unearthly yell as the whatever-it-was retreated.

You came to again when Dean picked you up off the floor, the pain in your back and stomach enough that you wanted to scream again, but all you could manage was a grunt.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. We’re gonna get you patched up, Y/N, just hang on. Hang on, baby.”

Then your world went dark and it didn’t matter anymore that your legs were useless.

You heard the steady beep of a heart monitor and smelled antiseptic.

Hospital.

At least you’d made it far enough to get to one; for a moment there you’d thought the lights were going out permanently….

“She’s coming around now.” That voice was wrong. Where was Dean? Sam?

You blinked your eyes open, your throat parched. Damn hospitals should make you feel better, not drain you.

The man in front of you was probably 70 if he was a day, and bald as a bowling ball. He had kind eyes though, and you tried to smile up at him as he checked your vitals, his little flashlight going back and forth over your pupils.

He didn’t smile back.

In your experience, when the doctor wouldn’t smile at the patient, there wasn’t going to be good news anytime soon.

“So, what’s the verdict doc?” Your head swiveled towards Dean. He was sitting right beside you, his hand tight on yours. Sam was standing behind him, his eyes worried and his brow furrowed.

“Y/N’s lost a lot of blood. We’re replacing it as fast as we can, but her injuries…the bear that mauled her severed her spinal cord between the T8 and T9 vertebrae. The damage to her intestines, stomach, liver, pancreas, and the blood vessels there are all massive.”

His voice was gruff, and you absorbed each word in a trance, your face completely blank.

“She’s paraplegic, and most of her organs are damaged so bad that, honestly, there’s nothing we can do. I’m frankly astonished that she’s awake at all.”

You turned your head towards Dean, watching the storm clouds gather across his face. Sam’s hand clenched on his brother’s shoulder, holding him in his seat, keeping him from reacting physically. You felt him grip your hand tighter and you drew in a shaky breath, oddly calm.

“How long do I have, Doctor?”

The old man’s kind blue eyes met yours and measured you in the quiet moment.

“A day? Maybe a week, if we kept you on the machines? Your heart and lungs were protected by your ribcage and sternum, but the rest of your internal organs…I’m sorry, ma’am, but there’s nothing else we can do.”

He looked at the two men, then apologized quietly again before turning and leaving the room, pulling the door shut behind him.

No one knew what to say.

I mean, hunting was a deadly business. Everyone who was on the job, died on the job—usually bloody. It was understood.

But you’d never thought you’d get a chance to say goodbyes—where the hell did you even start?

You thought over what Dean would say if he were in your shoes, and you chuckled lightly.

“Where are all the cute doctors? Seriously, I get stuck with grandpa? What rotten luck.”

Sam’s smile was painful to watch. Dean didn’t even try, his eyes still dangerously dark.

You couldn’t look him in the eye. You couldn’t say goodbye to him. You looked up at Sam instead, not loosening your grip on Dean’s hand.

“So, what was that thing? You recognized it, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Sam cleared his throat, his hand going up to wipe over his mouth. “We tangled with one once before; it’s a daeva, a shadow demon from Zoroastrianism…. Hell hound with less training basically, controlled with powerful spell work. We used the flare to—“

“Y/N, I know what you’re doing.” Dean’s voice was low and steady, despite the fire in his eyes, and Sam stopped babbling immediately.

“Dean… it’s the gig. You know that. And if it’s my time, then—“

“Don’t give me that shit!” Dean was up on his feet and crossing the room, his arms crossed over his chest. He leaned against the wall, glaring at you.

“We are not giving up on you. And you are going to fight this until we find some Hoodoo man or… spell, or something.”

You looked over at Sam, who avoided your gaze, the chicken-shit. Fine.

“Dean, you know better than pretty much anyone, the miracle cures that do exist out there always come with a price tag.” You saw Sam wince at that, and knew it was a low blow, with Dean’s soul currently under contract for Sam’s miracle.

You’d met the Winchesters not long after that, and despite Dean being up front with you, you hadn’t been able to stop yourself from falling for him. You knew it was doomed, but like Sam, you weren’t going to let Dean get dragged downstairs without a fight.

Who knew your time would run out before his?

God, you’d never wanted to do that to him. You felt the burden of blame for Dean’s heartbreak already—this might just finish him off. You had to get him to let you go.

“I’ve been a hunter for a long time, Dean—practically my entire life. I’ve dealt with my ghosts and faced all my demons. I’ve seen and done things in this life, lost loved ones… and I met you two. And you took me in. You helped me to finally be content with a past I regret. I was trapped in the past for too long—lost in revenge and blood. You gave me something to fight for.”

You took a deep breath.

“I love you, Dean. But I can’t stay like this,” you gestured to the beeping machines that were keeping your body alive right now, to the dead legs in front of you on the bed that you couldn’t move or feel at all.

Sam sniffed beside the bed and you looked over to find tears in his eyes. He looked up at the ceiling, trying to control himself, and your heart clenched in your chest.

“Sam—I didn’t mean for this to—“

“Don’t, Y/N. This isn’t your fault. If we had been with you…” He tightened his jaw, then nodded, “I’ll call Ruby; maybe she—“

“No, Sam.” Your voice didn’t have the slightest hesitation in it. Sam should have known better than to bring her up.

“I don’t trust that bitch. She’s poison, Sam.”

You swallowed your anger, not willing to let their last memory of you be a lecture.

“Look, I’ve made my decision. I’m moving on. And I need you two to make peace with that. Because it is my decision.”

Sam let that sit in the room for a second, then turned on his heel and followed the doctor out of the door. Knowing Sam, he was probably going to pace the hallways. He always felt less helpless when he was moving.

Neither Winchester handled helplessness easily.

“So… your decision is to leave me, leave us. To give up.”

Dean’s voice was angry. You knew it was masking his pain, his fear, his guilt. But you didn’t enjoy being called a quitter. Especially not by a man who’d traded his own life without blinking.

“Dean, for once, I’m at peace with myself. As far as ways to die go, this one isn’t so bad.” You hated how he winced at the word die. You hated how the word felt on your tongue.

You didn’t want to die!

You had more to do… you couldn’t leave them like this! You still hadn’t figured out how to save Dean.

But try as you might, you couldn’t see your way out of this one. And you couldn’t bear the idea of watching them try to find a solution to this and failing. That would kill Dean as surely as the hounds were going to try to.

Dean walked over to your bedside again, sitting down in the chair next to you with a heavy sigh.

“I can see straight through that bullshit, you know. You aren’t all zen right now about this, either. And you shouldn’t be. I want you pissed. I want you fighting. I want you—“

“To live? To get out of this bed and walk out of here with you? To whine and cry about the unfairness of life? To make sweet love to you, get married, and have kids, and…” you voice broke, “and grow old together? What the fuck kind of good would that do, Dean? I’m all but dead right now.” You finished on a whisper, “You might as well be talking to my ghost.”

You couldn’t hold back the bitter outburst, and felt bad about your moment of weakness as soon as it was out in the open.

Just because the situation was hopeless didn’t mean that admitting it made it any easier.

Dean stood up, grabbing your hand and leaning over you, his forehead resting on yours, his closeness and the scent of his breath working almost as well as the drugs coursing through your system—numbing your pain and making it easier to get a grip on yourself.

His instinct was to comfort, but you could feel the tension in his jaw, in the tight grip on your hand. You reached up with your other hand, threading it through the short hairs at the back of his head, holding him close to you as you closed your eyes, unable to stop the tears from sliding out from between your lids.

“No, baby, please, don’t—“

Dean’s voice was a rough whisper, and he was kissing away each tear drop as one fell after another. You sniffed loudly, trying to pull yourself together, trying to find that hard outer shell that every hunter develops to do the job. Trying to find strength enough to finish this damn goodbye and stop hurting the man you loved.

“Dean… you’ve got to let me go. I can’t stay like this. I’ve got to move on.”

Dean leaned back enough to look you in the eyes, his own green ones wet now with tears he didn’t want to let go.

“How, Y/N? How do I… I can’t just let you go….”

Your lip quivered without your permission and the tears started to fall again. Your brave Dean.

“I know, babe. You’ve never let anyone go—you’ve always fought for your loved ones, done everything you could to protect them. But this isn’t some monster you can kill for me. There’s no deal you can make that can save me.

“I’m going to die. I don’t want to leave you, especially not like this, but my reaper’s on the way… and, I’m going with it.” You gave him a shaky smile through the tears and little gaspy breaths that you were giving. “Hey, if I’m lucky, my heaven’s just going to be a lot of reruns with you anyway….The day we met and I kicked your ass.” Dean tried to smile at that, “That night at the lake in Michigan… That morning when you told me you loved me in Baby’s backseat….”

You let your voice trail off, slowly regaining control, stopping the tears through sheer force of will and stubbornness. Dean wiped away the one tear that had escaped down his cheek.

“What am I supposed to do, Y/N?” It was said so softly, it might have been rhetorical.

You pushed him gently, and he leaned back the rest of the way, sitting beside the dead lump that was your thigh. You were glad the bed had you sitting slightly up so you could look him in the eye easier.

“You give me a hunter’s funeral. You hunt down the sonofabitch that is controlling that daeva thing and get the revenge I know you’ll need. Then, Dean Winchester, you figure a way out of that damn deal. Just because I’m leaving, doesn’t mean you have to. Sam needs you. Hell, the world needs you both.

“And many, many, many years from now, when you finally do kick the bucket, you get your ass to my heaven so my reruns can become real. You hear me?”

Dean locked eyes with you, the pain in them almost enough to break your resolve. But you stayed strong. Because it was what he needed.

And it was what you needed too.

He linked his fingers through yours and nodded slightly.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You had signed all of the necessary paperwork, removing yourself from the life support—basically pulling the plug on yourself. The doctor said he’d up your pain medication so your last minutes, or maybe hour or so, wouldn’t be in agony—which you were thankful for. Not so much for yourself, but for Sam and Dean’s sake.

You hadn’t been able to convince them to leave the room.

Though, maybe you hadn’t tried as hard as you should have.

The truth was, you didn’t want to die alone. You wanted them both there for as long as possible. And if that made you selfish, then so be it. You were about to die. You were entitled to be selfish one last time.

The doctor finished what he was doing with the machines, then stepped back, pulling the privacy curtain around you and the brothers.

This was it. God, you wished you knew what to say.

God, you wished you could stay—Stop it.

Sam was there, leaning over you, wrapping your torso up in one of his large bear hugs, his giant arms pulling you away from the bed gently to pull you into his broad chest.

You wrapped your arms around his waist and returned his hug, letting the tears fall as Sam held you close.

“Thank you, Y/N. I don’t know how I would have kept sane in these last few months without you. Thank you for helping me with Dean, for….for…”

He broke off, leaning back and releasing you. You nodded, knowing what he meant, even if he couldn’t say it.

“Goodbye, Sam. Tell Bobby, Jo, and Ellen that I love them, and that I’ll look over each of you as much as I can…. Be careful, you big lug. Your brother needs you—and I need you to look after him for me, since I’m not going to be around to do it anymore, okay?”

Your voice was thick with tears again, and his started to roll down his face as he licked his lips, nodding his agreement.

Then he backed up and Dean moved in, sitting on the bed like he had earlier.

The two of you locked eyes, then looked away. It was awkward, with Sam there, and the old doctor just behind the curtain. Or maybe it was awkward because he was Dean and you were you.

The numbness of the pain medication was spreading up from your waist, and you hurried to think of something before you lost the chance forever.

I love you? He knew that already.

Thank you for everything? What was this, a Hallmark card?

“Dean…I….”

He shook his head slowly, leaning forward and placing the gentlest of kisses on your lips.

Fuck that. If you were dying, that was not going to be your last kiss.

You grabbed his head, holding him close as the tears streamed down your face, throwing every ounce of passion left in your sleepy body into the kiss—transforming every bit of love, pain, regret, and loss into that tangle of tears and tongues. Dean’s arms scooped under your shoulders, and he lost himself in the kiss too.

You broke apart, and your lungs struggled to breathe. The kiss? The medicine? Death?

How much longer did you have? He only had three months left.

“Dean, promise me—no matter what happens, don’t ever stop being you. My Dean. My brave, stubborn,” you cradled his face, and he did the same to you, “self-sacrificing, idiot Dean. You remember what’s important—family, and friends, and love. And you remember that it was worth it.”

You pressed your fingers into his face, forcing him to look into your eyes, to really listen to you. Your tears were drying on your cheeks, and you could feel the tracks clearly. There weren’t any left to cry. There was no time left anyway.

“You hear me, Dean Winchester. It was worth it. I wouldn’t trade a single damn minute. Not one. So you promise me.”

He cleared his throat. His voice was broken, and it broke your heart. “I promise, Y/N. I promise.”

And then Dean Winchester leaned down and placed his forehead on yours. You closed your eyes on that rickety uncomfortable hospital bed and breathed in your lover’s scent and gave permission for the numbness to take over the rest of you.

The darkness followed soon after, but you held onto Dean’s scent.

You held onto the sound of his breathing, the feel of his calloused hands cradling your face.

And when you took your last shuddering breath on Earth, when you moved on from this life, it was while you were in Dean Winchester’s arms.

And that was enough to hold onto for forever.

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[winchestersplusone]

Chapter 93: Our Poor Choices

Summary: Bela has made some bad choices. And probably Dean too. But then… Ellie doesn’t always make the right call, either.

Wordcount: 3382

Warnings: None. Except angst, I guess…

A/N: WHAT?! She’s back, y’all!!! Thank god I went to All Hell Breaks Loose because I fell back down the deep deep rabbit hole of living and breathing SPN!!!

(Also, Jared Padalecki hugged me and called me “sweetie”, but that’s obviously not important at all it’s only been 3 days I can’t expect my heart rate to have gone down yet, right?)

Episode Guide: This chapter takes place during and just after 3x15.

Chapter 93: Our Poor Choices

On our way back to the motel, Dean explained what happened with Rufus. He’d given Dean the address for Bela, along with several pages of relevant documents about her past. Apparently there’s a thing you can do with IDing a person from their ear. So a friend of Rufus’ in England had a whole lot of background.

Dean had already gone through it, of course. Her real name was Abby. Her parents died when she was fourteen, and in suspicious circumstances. Their car crashed, and Police suspected the brake line had been cut, but weren’t able to prove it. And little Abby got their money. A whole lot of money.

That explained why that vengeful spirit had gone after her in Massachusetts. It targeted people who had killed a member of their own family.

“Shoulda let that spirit take her out,” Dean said, as he finished explaining.

“Cutting her parents’ brakes at fourteen,” Sam repeated. “Wow. That’s… That’s cold.”

“She didn’t cut ‘em,” Dean went on. “I noticed something in her room. Devil’s shoestring.”

“Like for warding off Hellhounds?” asked Sam. Man had a botanical encyclopaedia in his head. He was always identifying plants from name or sight alone.

“Exactly like,” Dean said. “And guess when mommy and daddy died?”

Shit. Bela had done a deal with a Crossroads demon. “Ten years ago?”

“To the day,” Dean said. “Her time’s up.”

Sam turned in his seat to look back at me. I was in the middle, again, leaning forward to perch my head between theirs. I didn’t know what Sam’s face meant. He slightly raised one eyebrow. But maybe he was looking at my expression for some reason, rather than trying to communicate anything.

“Did she tell you why?” he asked, turning back to his brother.

“Didn’t ask. We’re talking millions, Sam. Why else?”

Maybe that’s what Sam had been trying to ask me, without words. Something about this story seemed… odd. It takes a special kind of ruthlessness to murder your parents for money before you’re even out of high school. Bela was definitely cold and hard, but she didn’t seem greedy. She was incredibly shady and she sold stolen goods. She didn’t care what was done with the dangerous occult stuff she hocked. Yes, she’d shot Sam, which I’d never forgive. But she also paid us for rescuing her from that ghost ship curse. Paid us a lot.

She liked being rich, but I wasn’t quite sure how to reconcile a teenager so greedy she’d murder her parents in cold blood with a woman who casually threw twenty grand at us like it was nothing.

“Mighta been some other reason too,” I said. “I hate her, but I dunno… something just doesn’t seem right about that.”

“Okay, Shortcake,” said Dean, his tone like like a gentle, patronising pat on the head. “Bela’s just misunderstood and there’s a soft squishy marshmallow inside everyone.”

“Except you, asshole,” I said, throwing a heavy kick to the back of his seat.

“You said she didn’t have the Colt,” Sam cut in, carefully scooching the subject back on track before I tried to strangle Dean while he was driving. “So what happened?”

“Didn’t find the Colt, so I left. But she stole the motel receipt from my pocket.”

“Huh,” mumbled Sam. “So… she’s looking for us?”

“Or someone else is,” said Dean. “Either way, I’m thinking decoys in our beds tonight.”

Sam and I agreed with that, no question. Whether Bela bumped her parents off for money or not was irrelevant to our own situation. When someone pickpockets you to find out where you’re sleeping, best thing to do is not sleep there.

It was on the way back to the motel that Sam spotted a sex shop. Dean was all ready to joke about his little brother growing up or imply Sam had some weird fetish. But Sam pointed out that the place sold sex dolls, forcing Dean to agree that actually, that was a really great idea.

Two guys and a girl go into a shop and buy three sex dolls. I don’t know how that joke ends, but it sounds like a good start. At least, the man working the counter was amused.

It was dark by the time we got back to the motel. Dean had been in Canaan, so it was only Sam and I that needed to gather all our shit together. It was hard to make my decoy doll look right, lying on the floor, but we managed it. Without knowing whether it’d be Bela coming or someone else, and what they intended to do, we just had to take our best guess.

Dean was pretty convinced Bela was intending to kill us. She was trying to hold Hellhounds at bay, but rather than ask for help, she’d stolen the receipt to get our location. Sam and I agreed that it sure seemed like she was trying to cut some sort of deal. I wasn’t sure about killing us, though. Maybe her intention was just to give us up.

In any case, she probably wasn’t interested in killing me. I was merely a sidekick. A badass, super competent (and totally hilarious) sidekick. But not likely to be included in any plot against the Winchesters. Although, she hated my guts, so maybe she’d just see killing me as a bonus. Either way, I wasn’t waiting around to find out.

So we skipped, leaving the key in the room, and without telling reception. We didn’t need Bela inquiring at the desk and finding we’d checked out. With any luck, she wouldn’t turn up until very late, long after we were gone.

“Where are we going, though?” I asked, hauling my duffle into the back seat.

“As far as possible,” Dean said. “Pick a direction.”

I hesitated. Dean had three weeks left and he actually seemed willing, at this point, to talk about it. It seemed to me that this was an opportunity to go where the best resources were. We still had time to save him.

“Why don’t we go home?” I suggested. “I still think Dad’s got books I could…” I stopped, not wanting to tell Dean about my plan to ty and bring him back after death. I didn’t want him to get his hopes up. What if I couldn’t? Much better to keep looking for a better idea.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah. You miss your Dad, right? I guess we can take a little trip, make you less homesick, whatta you say, Sammy?”

Sam smiled as he shut the back door on me. It wasn’t a cheerful smile, but it was genuine. Just the slightest hint of his dimples formed.

“If that’s… if it’s what Ellie needs, sure.”

And so, we were able to agree on going home to Sioux Falls, with all of us pretending it wasn’t to make a last ditch effort to save Dean before the hounds came to take him down to Hell.

We made several attempts to call our abandoned motel room from the road. Dean wanted to gloat at Bela. I was still sure there was something we didn’t know about her, but I kept my mouth shut. At least until I knew whether or not she was planning to murder us.

But it’d be nice to know whether she was the one planning to come into our room, or someone else. Maybe, if someone answered the phone, we could get some idea of what was happening.

Nearing midnight, we were somewhere in Ohio. Dean decided to have another try, and this time, he didn’t put the phone down in frustration.

“Hiya, Bela. Here’s a fun fact you may not know. I felt your hand in my pocket when you swiped that motel receipt.”

There was only the very briefest of pauses, obviously while she said something.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I understand perfectly. See, I noticed something interesting in your hotel room. Something tucked above the door. A herb. Devil’s shoestring? There’s only one use for that: holding hellhounds at bay. So you know what I did? I went back and took another look at your folks’ obit. Turns out they died ten years ago today. You didn’t kill them. A demon did your dirty work. You made a deal, didn’t you Bela? And it’s come due. Is that why you stole the Colt, huh? Try to wiggle out of your deal, our gun for your soul?”

His sentences had mostly rolled into one another, so I guessed he’d either been interrupting her attempts to respond, or she hadn’t tried and he was just delivering a monologue. After he was done, he did leave a brief pause, during which she presumably answered.

“But stealing the Colt wasn’t quite enough, I’m guessing,” he said.

Sam looked back at me while Dean listened to Bela’s reply. It was hard to see him that well in the dark car, but I was guessing his eyes were that deep concerned brown that looked bottomless.

“Really!” Dean said. “Wow, demons untrustworthy? Shocker! That’s uh… kind of a tight deadline too. What time is it? Well, look at that, almost midnight.” Another pause. “Sweetheart, we are weeks past help.” And then again.

Was she begging him for help? After what she’d done?

“You know what, you’re right, you don’t,” said Dean. “But you know what the bitch of the bunch is? If you would have just come to us sooner and asked for help we probably could have taken the Colt and saved you.”

We would have tried, at the very least. And a promise to try from the Winchesters had to be worth more than any demon’s offer to renegotiate a contract.

Even though she’d taken the Colt, and even though she’d lied and deceived us… Even though she shot Sam, I still didn’t think Bela deserved to die. And especially not so horribly, being doomed to eternity in Hell itself.

Yeah, so she supposedly did a deal to kill her parents, but that still didn’t quite tally up to me. Stealing and lying and being ruthless were definitely connected with Bela being capable of wishing her family dead. But why? Their deaths made her incredibly rich, yet she’d still started dealing in stolen occult items. She continued to make vast sums, despite not needing it. And then she paid us a fortune when we hadn’t asked her for anything.

Greedy people don’t throw money around. So why give away her soul just to off her parents and get the cash?

I wished Dean would put her on speaker, or let me talk to her. It was too late to do anything, but I wanted to know why. It was too late to help her. But I thought she should at least get the chance to explain her motives before the hounds came.

“And who told you that?” Dean asked her. Then he questioned her further. “She? Lilith? Why should I believe you? This can’t help you, Bela, not now. Why you telling me this?”

Whatever reason she gave, Dean was done with her. “I’ll see you in Hell,” he said, hanging up, putting the phone down and getting his right hand back on the wheel.

See you in Hell, he said. And I was one hundred percent sure he meant it literally.

We drove all night, and into the next day. We took turns, one driving, one keeping them awake and one sleeping in the back. With a couple of meal stops, we made it back home to Sioux Falls in just over fourteen hours. Dean was someone who believed that speed limits are just a suggestion.

It was a little after nine o’clock when we pulled into the yard. Still early enough for some breakfast.

The super subtle roar of the Impala’s engine alerted Dad before we’d even stopped, and he was waiting on the porch for us. I was in the front, taking my turn and keeping Dean company for the last leg. As soon as the car rolled to a stop, I was out before Dean had time to put it in park.

Shut up. I loved my Dad, okay.

He retained his grumpy demeanour as I ran up the steps and launched myself at him. But his grip on me when I hugged him betrayed his real feelings.

After a couple of seconds, he let go and put his hands on my shoulders, holding me a little apart from him, so he could examine my face. He peered at me, taking in the huge bruise on my forehead.

“Are you alright?” he asked. “Your head…”

I knew he was worried about my previous head wound, and I couldn’t blame him for that. I was smart enough to be cautious about bumps to the head. It was well over a year, but a cracked skull isn’t something you should be casual about. Both Sam and Dean were agreed, and always made sure to check very carefully for a concussion or other signs of damage.

Hunters tend to be reckless and live dangerously, but we’re not freakin’ stupid.

“I’m okay,” I told Dad. “I got knocked out, but it feels mostly fine now. Just a bit sore.”

“Follow my finger,” he said, and I did, as he moved it left, right, up and down in front of my eyes. Quicker and easier to just do it than argue about how I wasn’t concussed and knew what I was doing.

Sam was sitting with the back door open, yawning. He’d only woken up just as we arrived. Dean came up the stairs to stand beside Dad and me.

“She got hit with a shovel,” he said. “You wanna tell him why, Princess?”

“I was being a diversion,” I said defensively. “So Sam could get the victim out the window.”

“Uh huh,” Dean said. “Bobby, you ever seen your daughter’s diversions?”

“Dean…” I moaned.

“I usually got her on backup,” Dad said, and with what looked almost like a smile. Maybe Dean’s dobbing wouldn’t lead to an argument…

“She’s freakin’ insane,” Dean said, and I could see the proud little smile he tried to hide. “Dunno what we’d do without her, right Sammy?”

“Right,” Sam said, coming up behind me. “No one in the world as distracting as Ellie.”

I wasn’t sure if he meant it as a compliment or not, but Sam wasn’t usually inclined to insult me. “It’s a gift,” I said.

We all got straight to work. I headed to the library, with some books already in mind. Some stuff I hadn’t scanned yet, but I knew from my database that there might be something in them.

Dad had found something he wanted to show us, so he and Sam talked through that. Dean left the house again pretty much right away. There wasn’t enough beer, and going to get more was definitely a top priority.

We worked all day, stopping briefly for lunch. Then there was an afternoon of frantically rifling through books. While the others were still focusing on ways to break the contract, I focused on my own idea. Bela had revealed this demon, Lilith, was the one who held Dean’s contract, but Dad had read something different. Either way, I was still sure my back-up plan was worth pursuing.

Even if we figured out whether it was Lilith who had the contract (and why would Bela bother to lie at that point?), we still had to find her. And figure out how to get Dean free from the deal. Without triggering the clause that would end in Sam dying too.

I flipped through page after page, speed reading and searching for keywords. By the time it got dark out, it was hard to tell when my eyes were watering from strain, and when I was just crying from frustration. They’d sort of merged into one.

I gave up for the night and got up to make dinner. I decided to roast some actual vegetables, which always made Sam’s day. And Dean didn’t mind a good roast dinner either. It appealed to his secret domestic desires.

Sam thought something Dad had found might have some real potential. It was a reference to someone called the “King of the Crossroads”. After dinner, Dad sat Dean down to show him, while Sam and I did the dishes.

“Thanks,” he said, as I rolled up my sleeves to get washing.

“Thank you,” I replied. “Usually I do this on my own.”

“No, for yesterday,” he said. “With Benton. You were right.”

The whole Doc Benton scenario seemed weeks away. Had it really only been twenty-four hours since we threw him into a fridge and buried him deep as we could dig?

“Well, your heart was in the right place,” I said. “We’re all getting desperate.”

Sam took a heavy tray from me. His huge hands made it seem so much smaller and with his strength it seemed to weigh nothing at all.

“It’s my fault,” he said. “And the closer we get, the clearer that is to me. I’ve gotta…”

“Uh uh!” I scolded him, scrubbing at a plate with added vigour. “This is not your fault, Sam. Not yours, or mine, or Dad’s!”

It didn’t seem like the appropriate time to mention it. It never seemed appropriate, even quietly to myself, in the dark. But the truth was, Dean had made a choice. He was grieving and desperate and not thinking properly when he did it, but the dark, terrible circumstances behind it didn’t make it any less true. In fact, he’d made more than one choice.

He’d driven Dad and I away so we couldn’t stop him. He’d put together what he needed to make a deal. He’d driven to the crossroads. He’d summoned a demon, made a deal with her and accepted her unusually harsh terms. He’d been offered only one year and he took it.

There was a whole lot of backstory to who Dean was and why he’d made his choices. His feelings of intense protectiveness towards Sam were far more complex than my single college psychology elective could ever qualify me to comment on. Was Dean to blame for his decisions? Was he in a fit mental state to make that kind of deal? Would a desperate crossroads deal hold up in a human court of law? Surely diminished responsibility is a thing.

No. I don’t think we can ever say if Dean is to blame for what he did that terrible night. But one thing I did know.

No one else made that decision for him.

“There’s a way out of this, Ellie,” Sam said. “I know there is. And if I haven’t found it…”

“It’s not because you haven’t tried,” I reminded him. “Not knowing the solution to a problem isn’t the same as being the cause of the problem.”

He sighed, gently taking a plate from me. There was some danger of me agitatedly slamming it down in front of him. Maybe it wasn’t fair for me to get mad, but I couldn’t bear that he was putting the blame on himself.

“I know, but…”

“But nothing,” I scolded. “If a werewolf kills a man in Texas tonight, is it my fault?”

“Of course not…”

“No. Because I’m fucking miles away. You were dead Sam. And that’s a shitload further than Texas. You weren’t there when Dean made his deal, so it’s not your fault.”

“Okay,” he said.

But I could tell from his tone that I hadn’t convinced him of a damn thing. I’d just bullied him into agreeing with me to my face. I’d done nothing to heal his breaking heart, nothing to ease the suffering within.

My stupid temper. Rather than helping Sam, I’d just made him feel like I didn’t understand and that he couldn’t confide in me. And by the time we’d finished washing up, I still hadn’t figured out how to apologise for it. Then he was gone, to talk to Dad and Dean about this Crossroad King guy.

I joined them, but it was all business, and I couldn’t get Sam alone again before he went to bed.

I went up too, but I didn’t sleep at all. But then, did I really deserve to?

[shirtlesssammy]

Somewhere Between Heaven and Hell: Savor it because we won’t see Cas for over a month Recap

Then:

In which writer, Davey Perez, continues to ascend to the Fan Throne of Goodness vacated by the much missed Robbie Thompson.

Now:

On a camping excursion in the wilds of Nebraska, a young woman, Gwen, attempts to split firewood against the grain, her boyfriend, Marcus, is busy watching nature on his iPad, and the audience realizes -with or without monsters- this cute city couple is DOOMED. Before their imminent demise, they talk about her acceptance to a veterinary school out-of-state, and the ability to make a long-distance relationship work. On the premise of getting more firewood, the boyfriend wanders away to practice his proposal speech. Gwen stumbles upon the ring. And unfortunately for Marcus, a hellhound stumbles upon him! He just makes it back to camp before getting shredding to pieces. Gwen stands paralyzed but eventually gets the wherewithal to slash the invisible beast with the ax (also against the grain --the hellhound lived, even if Gwen escaped.)

RIP Marcus.

At the bunker, Sam and Dean and Lucille are just getting back from an epic hunting trip. (Fun Fact: Boris had to stop watching The Walking Dead just when Papa Winchester showed up. Too many sads.) It seems Sam keeps finding new jobs through a new computer program, aka, Frodo, aka, Mick Davies. So I see Sam hasn’t told his brother of his little allegiance yet. Dean’s ready to go, after all he has baby wipes in the car to remove any residual siren gunk, but Sam insists he shower first.

Dean acquiesces but insists he’s going to use Sam’s fancy shampoo in retaliation. (Boris is willing to hand-wave Dean’s lack of cleanliness for himself due to his overwhelming need to hunt and forget about his mom issues, but getting monster gunk in Baby? That cannot stand.)

The boys make it to the scene of Marcus’s demise, finishing phone calls as they exit Baby. Sam (talking to his mom): “Let us know.” Dean (talking to Cas): “Love you too.” Oh wait, scratch that, reverse it. Sam fills Dean in on their mom’s recent hunt with the Brits. Dean fills Sam in on more angel killings (like, doesn’t that warrant a drop-everything-and-help-Cas situation? Finding the nephilim seems WAY more time sensitive than bear attacks, but don’t mind me, I’m just a bitter Cas girl.) (Natasha: raises hand in solidarity.)

Speaking of Cas, or Agent Solange...

He’s at a diner, investigating the death of a waitress. Herb, the diner’s manager, believes she was killed by a Reptilian alien, you know, like the Queen of England. Cas is dismissive but Herb has proof and pulls out a tape! Man, this whole scene played like a goofier episode of The X-Files. It gave me happy feels. It also reminded me of Ronald Reznick and Mandroids. (And I love the silly reference to Misha Collin’s weird thing with the Queen.) In any event, they watch the video, which consists of Kelly Kline’s confrontation with angels and her rescue by Dagon, and her yellow eyes. “Like I said, reptilian,” Herb confirms. Cas takes the tape and leaves.

At the campsite, Sam and Dean hear about Gwen’s strange account of the attack. They were attacked by an invisible wolf. “Invisible dog. Sounds like a hellhound to me,” Dean concludes, and Sam agrees, as they head out to interview Gwen.

Once at Gwen’s house, the brothers disagree on how they should explain the situation. The much handsomer brother spitballs telling her the whole disturbing and unbelievable truth, but Sam says they just need to lie, a lot.

Of course, by letting in Agents Clapton and Baker, Gwen unknowingly lets in the hellhound. They tell her that a bear killed her boyfriend. She is not in danger, but Gwen doesn’t believe them, and tells them to leave. And the hellhound attacks! Sam and Dean burst in and shoot the hound, but it escapes out the window.

Crowley. Oh Crowley, what are you doing with Lucifer? You’re a smart demon, Fergus. But this seems...ill-advised. Yet he continues to hold Lucifer prisoner and taunt him. Lucifer isn’t too concerned. “I’m still gonna peel off your skin and eat your soul.” Lucifer makes it clear that they both know that the chains that hold him are just a temporary situation. “I’m already 10 steps ahead,” Crowley reassures the audience. He then meets with Demon #1 and #2. There’s a lot of Hell business to handle.

Back at Gwen’s, Sam and Dean tell her the whole disturbing and unbelievable truth --a hellhound just attacked her. Dean’s admission that they’ve tangled with hellhounds in the past is an understatement. *crying in corner over sad season 3 feels* The boys tell her that hellhounds only go after people who have sold their soul to a demon. They ask her to recall anything in her past or Marcus’s that they might have done unknowingly. Her answer is a firm “No.” The brothers call in the big guns for a conundrum like this: Crowley.

Summary: Dean calls Crowley “Peaches”, and Crowley is still pissed about the whole Gavin thing. Dean asks about the hellhounds and Demon #1 and #2 admit that Ramsey escaped. Crowley pops over to the brothers without hesitation.

Outside the diner a new angel, Kelvin, confronts Castiel. He’s looking for Kelly Kline as well and suggests that they partner up.

Back at Gwen’s house, Crowley unhelpfully introduces the hellhound as “THE Hellhound.” Sam squints inquisitively. Well, God created posies, koalas...

...and hellhounds! He wanted to make God’s best friend but ended up with a vicious beast instead. Rather than killing all the hounds, Lucifer rescued Ramsey, a pregnant hellhound. Loyal to her first master, she’s the one hound Crowley has never been able to control. As to why this wayward hound is after Gwen? Well, she did whack it with an axe. You could say that hound has an “axe to grind.” (Shows myself out.) Everybody looks exasperated at Gwen when instead, IMO, they should be high fiving Gwen’s bad ass self for sticking an axe in a hellhound and surviving the encounter. Anyway, everybody - even Crowley - is ready to saddle up and put an end to Ramsey.

“That mutt’s head, mounted on my wall - good for the brand,” Crowley says, explaining his participation.

“A hellhound gunning for revenge,” Dean snarks. “Just when I thought this gig couldn’t get any weirder.”

“It can always get weirder,” Crowley tells him, weirdly. (I APPROVE of this message and also your weirdly significant look, Crowley...and by extension Andrew Dabb / Davy Perez?? That is a damn fine motto right there.)

Back in Crowley’s palace, two demons open up Lucifer’s cell with a key they purloined from Crowley’s pocket. They walk in to find Lucifer trussed up and mouth gagged. 

(At this point there was a commercial break during the broadcast. I feel compelled to tell you that I spent the whole commercial break cursing Crowley’s stupidity for locking Lucifer up with simple chains that open with a key. Crowley! Who is always so clever when it comes to self-preservation. Anyway.)

The two minions immediately begin fawning over Lucifer - and complaining about Crowley. He killed everyone involved in “the cage project.”. Minions 1 and 2 set Ramsey free as a distraction so they could bust Lucifer out.

Back in the woods Dean pulls out two holy-fire-treated pairs of eyeglasses. Dean and Crowley will patrol the woods for Ramsey while Sam drives around with Gwen in the Impala.

Dean settles a soulful look on Sammy. “Take care of her,” he implores. Oh Dean, you big soft package of cotton candy! Don’t worry! The Winchesters always find a way to save the day! While we’re all clutching at our hearts, Sam realizes that Dean was referring to Baby - not scared little axe-swinging, hellhound mauling Gwen. “Imagine she’s a beautiful woman,” Dean tells him. (The rest of us: side eye.) Okay, great talk, Dean. He heads off into the woods with Crowley as Sam drives away.

Boomeranging back to Castiel, he’s parked in a bar with Kelvin sipping waters. (Bartenders must HATE angels.) Heaven’s running along in an orderly fashion but the angels want him back to help with their nephilim problem. Castiel has the most field experience, after all. 

“I think you overestimate me,” Cas says, profoundly underestimating himself (as is his way lately).

Kelvin begs to differ and suggests that having Heaven waiting in the wings when the wee human Winchesters fail is just smart strategy. Plus, as a bonus, if Cas does Heaven a solid then he can go back to coming and going as he pleases. Cas doubts Kelvin’s ability to actually follow through on any of the promises he’s spinning, so Kelvin drops his power card. Kelvin is just a messenger from Heaven - Joshua can restore Cas to his rightful place in Heaven. Go on, emotes Cas, turning towards Kelvin.

“Imagine it, Castiel. For you to come and go as you please. Part of your family - your true family again.” Cas looks at him in consideration. (Me: Noooooooo Cas!)

Back in the palace, Lucifer is suffering through the worst Hell-torture of all: irritating minions. They finally finish outlining their list of demands. Well, one of them has a long list of demands. All that Minion #2 cares about is “Making Hell great again.” (Me: laugh cries)

At last they unlock Lucifer. Stupid STUPID minions. Minion 1 disintegrates in a puff of fire and ash. Minion 2 offers himself up. “My life is yours to devour!”

Lucifer: “See, now you just made it weird.” POOF.

In the woods on the hellhound hunt, Crowley flirts with Dean. He’s all “those glasses bring out your eyes” and “remember that fivesome we had when you were a demon?”

Dean and Crowley marvel at a Winchester and the King of Hell working together yet again. “You saved Cas,” Dean says, at last thanking Crowley for saving the day a few episodes ago.

“Just to spare myself the Winchester man pain,” Crowley snarks.

Dean sees something in the woods - it’s Gwen’s boyfriend’s body, dragged back to Ramsey’s den. The hellhound’s den is empty!

For Science

And back to the Impala, where Sam drives along merrily with Gwen who succumbs to the Impala’s magical confession and introspection powers. “This is all my fault,” she mourns. She asks Sam to pull over so she can vomit. When she returns she confesses that she wanted to break up with her boyfriend, but she still acted like everything was perfect between them. “Why couldn’t I just tell him the truth? I lied to make things easier.”

Sam weeps along with her (internally) and reflects upon his own lying lies with Dean. He finally pulls himself out of his miserable slump and looks up to see Ramsey snarling in front of them. (Me: Hit it with the car, Sam! Wouldn’t be the first dog, amirite?)

Ramsey busts up Baby a bit, then Sam grabs an angel blade and heads out to kill the dog. The glasses get knocked off of his face during a scuffle and things look bad for our hero. Then Gwen comes out and knocks the hellhound off of Sam like a fucking bad ass.

This gives Sam just the distraction needed to climb to his feet. When the hound rushes him again, he stabs her with the blade, killing her.

When the four regroup, Dean castigates Sam for his damaged car. A relieved Gwen gives Crowley a giant happy bunny hug. Sam thanks Crowley with actual words and feelings and Crowley zaps out. “He seems nice,” Gwen says, chirpily.

Crowley heads straight for the palace where Lucifer’s torture chair is empty! He finds Luci in his throne room. I’m yelling ZAP OUTTA THERE CROWLEY WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU when Crowley snaps his fingers and Lucifer’s magical archangel wings fizzle out.

“I’m always ten steps ahead,” Crowley reminds Lucifer. He had his vessel fixed up and heavily warded. Lucifer’s meatsuit is his prison! (Me: punches air in joy at this development) Just as Crowley learned not to underestimate the Winchesters, Lucifer really has to learn not to underestimate the MacLeods.

Crowley dusts off his hands, steps over a whimpering Lucifer, and settles onto his throne. Crowley’s going to rip apart Lucifer’s child in front of him, and then he’s going to continue his revenge. (I’m guessing with more torture-by-irritating-minion.)

Elsewhere, the boys are just making it back to the bunker when Cas calls. He has a lead on Kelly Kline. (Hooray!) Cut to Cas, getting out of his truck and walking into...fuuuuuuuck...a playground. While I’m freaking out, Cas tells the boys about Dagon.

They hang up and Dean frowns at the phone. “He sound weird to you?” Dean, your worried husband rader is SPOT ON.

There’s no time to reflect on that, however. Sam gets an alert from the Men of Letters about another case. He decides to come clean to Dean, telling him that instead of a computer program feeding him cases, he’s been getting jobs from the BMoL. Sam tries to explain his position and apologizes for lying to Dean.

Dean hates it, but he agrees that they work with people they don’t trust all the time. Hell, they just worked with Crowley. So he’ll work with them on one condition: the second something feels off they both bail.

The phone rings again. “It’s Mick,” Sam says, holding up his phone.

“Pick it up,” Dean says, not radiating any kind of deep man pain at all.

Boris: Overall, on the surface, I felt like things were a bit off this episode. Dean seems to be taking all these lies and deceptions really well. What’s he thinking? Is he going along with Sam and Mary because he doesn’t want to lose them? Suddenly Sam has another family member to choose--and in a way he picked a side. Dean’s gut instinct is usually right --so it hurts to see him cave so easily to Sam and Mary.  And Cas? I want to believe that he went to heaven for one final goodbye. Can he find a way to use the angels to TFW’s advantage? So much hasn’t been said after his big confession. He’s said and done SO much for the Winchesters this season, but there’s been very little given to him in return. And, I’m totally on board for cleaning up the ridiculous Lucifer Meatsuit improbability. I just thought it was such a stupid reason for it, but to have Crowley be 10 steps ahead of Lucifer is satisfying to watch. And Sam saved the flipping day again! And started the trials again? He killed a hellhound. I realize it’s nbd for them these days, but it’s, uh, really not.

Natasha: Sam didn’t do the incantation, so no trials. I thought Dean was shocked about Sam’s news - bitter and worried, but also respecting Sam’s right to make his own choices. He’s probably going to angry fix his car the first chance he gets. I agree that Cas trying to get back into Heaven’s good graces is a tired storyline by this point. What I’m hoping is that Cas appears to agree because he sees the tactical advantage of using Heaven’s resources. After all, he just saw two angels confront Kelly Kline...they must have some resource that’s beyond him to find her. Furthermore, he seems intrigued by Joshua’s involvement. I think Cas wants to know who’s on the game board. I’m hoping that Cas gathers intel and heads down to the Winchesters when he’s put together a solid plan. However, there are definitely parallels between the Winchesters/BMoL and Cas/Heaven in terms of our heroes working with people they don’t trust, but that might help them achieve their goals in an efficient manner. Given that Cas is gone for the next 3 episodes leaves us with a ton of questions about what could explain his absence. And the fact that he isn’t telling the Winchesters a thing is breaking my fuckin’ heart.

Who’s a good Quote?

It’s two and two. Doesn't count if you flip ‘em inside out.

Computers. Monsters? Porn? Is there anything they can’t do?

Most sheeple can’t handle the truth. But not me. I’m woke.

Who ya gonna call? Douchebusters.

The FBI, the Man in Black. Well, you know, Beige.

[carryonmywaywardwriters]

Heathens - Soulless Reader x Demon Dean (Short Series)

A/N: Yes, I’m alive. I just don’t particularly want to discuss it in depth. For now? Have this. I have some stuff lined up to be posted, already. So, there’ll be some more over this next week that way. As always, feedback is incredible. And, I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Warnings: Harley/Joker kinda relationship. Unhealthy. Power driven. Implied/Upcoming smut. Etc. Each chapter will have individual warnings.

Word Count: Roughly 2,800

“Y/N?” Dean Winchester. A deep, gravelly voice you hadn't heard since Bobby died echoed around you. A voice that should have meant something. Instead, it made you turn slowly, a brow raised. Waiting for the consequences with a blank face.

He hadn't been sure it was you. Darkness covered you. But, that wasn't enough. The actions he'd witnessed too fundamentally wrong to be from the woman he'd known. Y/N wouldn't ever kill in cold blood. Wouldn't off someone simply for attempting to mug her.

But you had. Without even blinking. You simply took out your gun from the back of your jeans. Shot twice, causing the kid to fall to the ground. Picking up the bag, you slung it over your shoulders. Another bullet was slung, this time to the skull, before you walked away. Tucking the gun away. Only to find yourself stopped by Dean in the alley.

The Y/N he knew always cried after a hunt. After any kind of kill. His lifestyle had been necessary to you at the time, but taking a life had never come natural. If anyone had known that, it was Dean. You'd turned to him from the beginning. All the way until the day he'd shoved you away. Trying to protect you. Failing miserably from the look of things.

“Well, well, well.” Your head tilted to the side. Inspecting him as though he were a bug. “And to what do I owe the pleasure?” Your lips kicked up humorlessly. “One of the great Winchester Duo paying little ole me mind again. What an honor.” The sarcasm might have made him flinch in his original state, but he was able to withhold in his newer form- barely.

“Happened to be walking this way, on a job.” He wasn't lying. Not completely, anyway.

Crowley had directed him that way. Promising that he'd have a kill ready for Dean. A means to keep the Mark under control. Even as a demon, the need to shed blood was fixed into his very being thanks to the raised scar etched into this forearm.

Once, you'd been repulsed, and even scared, of how easily Dean had lifted the gun and fired. He had gotten to the point where he barely blinked as a human, much less as a Knight of Hell. And yet, he couldn't help but to wonder what had taken the light out of your eyes. The guilt out of your head. What had turned you into him.

“I see you found her.” Crowley's low voice called out, in a way that should have sent chills up your spine. Instead, your lips pulled up even wider.

“You're working with the King of Hell?” You chuckled darkly. Losing what bit of tension there'd been in your shoulders. “Man, I've missed out on a lot. When did you become his bitch, Dean?”

“I'm not his bitch,” He bit out. His eyes flashing black under the alley light. Expecting you to shiver in revulsion.

“Even better.” Your smile fell a bit, but your face didn't lose that off feel to it. As if you were possessed. Or, maybe even under a spell. “You became his slave, instead.”

“I'm no one's slave, Y/N.” His words echoed another past memory.

“I'm scared, Dean.” You'd swallowed tightly, looking into his green eyes. Scared wasn't enough to cover it. You were petrified. A dead man could see it.

“Why?” If he was able, he'd fight off every one of your fears. Kill them before they could even begin to form.

“Because you're changing.” You whispered brokenly. The sound ripped at his chest. “You're becoming a...a slave. To this life. The guilt. Your fear... And I can't do anything...just sit by and watch.”

“I'm not a slave to anyone.” He'd bit out. Pride winning out against the urge to protect. “Or, anything. We'll be fine, Y/N. We always are.”

“Funny.” You snorted. Drawing him back to the present. “I've heard that before,” Your mind had traveled to the same place. “And, yet, here we are.”

“Yes,” Crowley had been watching the exchange curiously, “here we are. Eloquent words, darling.”

“I try,” Tilting your head mockingly, you got to the meat of the situation. Clearly not wanting to be bothered. Particularly by them. “What do you want with me?”

“It would seem that you're part of a contract that went wrong-”

“Oh, yeah.” A false, heavy sigh left your lips. “I almost forgot about that.” Dean's gaze turned back to his fellow demon for a moment. Attempting to piece together what was happening. “Thanks, by the way. Really loved having a hell hound come after me.” You pinched your index finger to your thumb in an approving gesture. “It only got better with the small hoard of demons you sent on my ass.”

“Such sass-”

“I was nicer before I lost my soul. Forgive me for my lack of manners. I seem to have trouble feeling these days.” Coldness seeped from your lips. A weapon honed by the attacks.

“You're soulless?” Understanding swam through him. Why, although you were so different, you were still so familiar.

The way you moved. How you detached. An empty eeriness clung to your features. It was completely unnatural. As if you were his brother when he'd come back from hell. Broken. Missing a large part of what made you, you.

“It's not as awful as it sounds.” You ran your tongue over your teeth as you glared at the superior demon in front of you. “Actually, I like it. A lot.” Your fingers twitched back to your weapon, “which is why I don't want it back. The only thing I want is to be left alone.”

“The contract isn't complete-”

“It wasn't my contract.” You cut him off, sneering. The tension lining your body. Prepared to fight to keep yourself destitute. “So, not my problem.”

“But, it is ours.” The shorter man hissed while snapping his fingers. Sending your body flying through the air until it connected against the brick. Your skull cracked with enough force to knock you out. But, you'd live. After all, you were there for a reason. “All yours.” Crowley motioned at Dean. Signaling that you'd be his kill.

“Why her?” Dean narrowed his eyes. Taking in the shameless king in front of him. Resisting the desire to step between him and your lifeless body.

When he'd turned, he hadn't become the usual demon. Bits that hadn't quite died off when Metatron stabbed a blade into Dean's body made themselves known on a regular basis. Killing Lester rather than the wife had only been the most recent offense.

The king of the underworld not only needed the job finished, but he needed that almost human part of Dean gone. Wanted the obstinate side of him to crumble. If Dean killed you? The woman he'd loved at one point- if not always...the problematic demon would morph. He'd be the perfect side kick.

“I believe that you already know the answer to that question, Dean-o.” Crowley quipped, following the movement of the green that had reappeared. Seeing the hesitation, and the connection being made. “You're almost to your full potential. There's just a smidge that needs fixed to get you there. This will make everything right.” His eyes were slightly crazed, as if he needed this. “It feels good, right? To continue to be a demon. To not be riddled with those pesky emotions. Fear. Guilt. Love. To do what you want, when you want, without being held back. Without consequence.”

“You're right.” Dean's jaw clenched lightly. The first blade came out of his denim jacket, and into his hand. “I am a demon.” His lips pulled up into a twisted smile of his own. Growing confident in his decision. “I feel nothing. I can do what I want, when I want.” Crowley backed away as Dean stepped between you two. His back facing your body. “And, I'll kill you before I kill her.”

–

“Dean?” Your head should have hurt far worse than the dull ache given the amount of blood you could see smeared onto the pillow and sheets in the mirror above the bed as you squinted up. But, that was nothing new. You'd been that way for weeks. “Where the hell are we?”

He'd been pacing by the window when you'd woken up. Completely ignorant to your eyes opening. You turned his way, watching the way he moved.

His hand wrecked his hair over and over again. The jacket was gone, thrown onto the table with a blade made from a large jaw bone resting atop of it. Red flannel was tossed over a black t-shirt. Even as a demon, he had to layer up. If you could have felt amused, you would have.

“I'm not telling you.” His eyes flashed back in warning. As if that would matter to you. “You're a problem for me, Y/N.  Always have been. Now? You fucked this up, too.”

“Oh, yes... Let's blame the soulless girl who's been back into the equation for five minutes.” Your eyes rolled heavily as you got to your feet to stretch. “Your problems came from your own hands, Winchester. The minute you sold yourself for Sam, it was over. I was the one unwillingly pulled into the fray.”

“Watch it.” The green was gone for a longer period this time. His anger showing in another snarl. “Go too far? That blade will land in your throat.”

“If you were going to do it, you would have already.” That devilish smirk crossed your lips. So certain now that emotion didn't rule you. “I've been out of your life for years, Dean. It should have been simple. Especially since you're sporting the Mark of Caine.” Your eyes landed on the reddened flesh. Too well versed to not recognize the symbol. “Take it this is the first blade?” You walked over to the weapon. Dried blood coated the yellowed, aged, bone. “You actually cut Crowley with this? To get me out of there?” Your brows rose as the weapon twisted in your hands. Mind churning as you inspected the rusted flakes clinging to it. “How sweet... I suppose you want paid back... the usual good enough?” Dean liked sex. That was no secret. He'd accepted more than his fair share from women he'd saved back in the day. His full lips pulled down into a deadly frown at your words. No doubt second guessing the decision to keep you alive. “Oh, lighten up.” Your eyes rolled at his grumpiness.

He'd be lying if he said that the offer wasn't appealing. Demonhood hadn't diminished his sexual appetites. If anything, they'd only grown stronger. Everything carnal expanding inside of him. However, he had bigger things to focus on. He'd nearly offed the King of Hell. Other demons would be on his ass sooner than later.

“You have any idea how you ended up in a contract?” Finding out who'd asked for your soul to get collected was the first step. That was about as far as he'd gotten.

“No clue.” Your finger was pricked by the point of the knife before you set it down. You sucked at the irony liquid out of habit. Grinning lightly at the way Dean's eyes followed the action. “I don't even really think one exists.” You finally stated, licking your lip clean of the rust flavored spot that had landed on it.

“You think he was trying to manipulate me?” He didn't seem surprised. Furious enough to have ignored the dart of your tongue.

It should have seemed odd to you. Dean with black eyes. The Winchester embracing the bad rather than the good. Not attempting to fight it anymore. But, you took it in stride. It was amazing how simple of a task it was when you didn't have any worries left.

“Tell me it doesn't make sense.” He couldn't. You knew it. “And you're just going to take that laying down?”

“He has an army of demons at his disposal. I just have me.” You looked at him expectantly while pointing to yourself. A grunt of acknowledgment left him. “And, you. But, that'll only last as long as he holds onto your soul.”

“Good point.” You pursed your lips. It was your turn to pace. Self preservation being the only thing you had left. “So, what're you planning to do about it?”

“You think I'm going to run.” He heard it in your voice. His pride hadn't been damaged by death. It rose its venomous head as you shrugged, pretending that wasn't what you were thinking. “So, what do you think I should do? After all, you seem to have it all figured out..” He plopped to the bed, looking at you expectantly. Daring you to come up with a better idea. Mocking you with his words. Still so similar to the man he'd been.

A low hum left you. Your eyes turned out to the window. Gazing at the world beyond as you moved. When it finally came together, you turned your head his way.

“You stopped the Apocalypse. You destroyed the Leviathans. And who knows what else since I've been gone.” Your pacing turned into more of a prowl until your hands rested on his shoulder. His eyes turned black immediately, again. You weren't sure if it was in response to your touch, or out of distrust. But, neither stopped you. “That was as a human. As a demon? I think you could take over Hell, and take all of the power for yourself.”

That caught his interest, “Yeah?”

“Let's face it, Dean.” Your lips brushed against his ear as you sat down on his lap. Drawing forth a low shiver. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you got to work. “Most demons know your name. They fear it.” Your hand brushed over the hair by his ear as you leaned back to look into his eyes. Staring into the bleakness. “You could have killed Crowley today. Easily.” He was too well trained not to be able to. “I know it. You know it. And, I'm sure he does.” Your lips curled up deviously. Setting the bait. “You've earned the crown, already.”

“And what's in it for you?” His eyes narrowed distrustfully. Knowing there was a catch. That no one, even those without a soul, came without a price.

“Besides you? And protection?” You shrugged nonchalantly. As if it meant nothing, “I rule by your side.”

“And here I thought demons were the power hungry ones.” His blackened eyes searched yours as you leaned forward.

“We soulless people have drives, too.” Your lips brushed against his lightly as you talked, making his breath hitch. “I want to live. I want to be safe. Unchallenged. I want to feel powerful for once in my pathetic life.” Your tongue wet your lips, grazing against his in the process. “And, this? This is how I can get all of that. You and your body are just a hell of a perk.”

“And your soul?” The million dollar question.

“I want it locked away.” There wasn't a moment of hesitation. “I meant what I said earlier. I don't want it back.” The almost empty E/C eyes searched his warily. The next question would determine everything. “And, your demonism?”

“It's me.” He answered gruffly. As if it was insulting you'd bothered to ask. “I don't want cured. I don't want to go back.” His dark smile made your lips kick back up. “I love this disease.”

“So, we have a deal?” Your grin grew. It was oddly chilling to Dean, even in his form. But, that didn't stop him from nodding. “Where you're a demon, does that mean we kiss on it?”

“Something this big, it takes a lot more than a kiss to seal it.” His raspy tone made your body break out in goosebumps. Your emotions may not have been there, but his words alone felt like a caress to your skin. As if your senses were amplified in those regards.

“Better get to work then,” Your lips met his as he pulled you down onto the bed. Signing over everything to you.

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @supernaturalginger​