#and also i identify too much with dean winchester to deal

[zer0expektation]

I love Sam so so much that is my little brother, but soo many of Sam fans either hating Dean or shipping wincest makes we want to peel off my own skin STOOOOPPP

[bunnysbrainrot]

Sinners - Teaser

Relationship: Sam Winchester x Reader

Content: Explicit sexual content, teasing, more kinks and details to come with the full version, nothing too warning-worthy right now?

Summary: Disguised as a priest and nun on a case, time alone with Sam back at your motel is everything but holy. The taboo of your situation has Sam dealing with some… impure thoughts. Will Sam be able to contain himself?

In the past few weeks you and the Winchesters uncovered some suspicious deaths in a remote area of Georgia. The locations of the tragedies spanned over 50 miles apart, meaning that the team had to split up to cover more ground. Dean had split from you and Sam two days ago, and the night before in the motel had been fairly normal. It seemed like Dean did this on purpose; you had drunkenly admitted to him of your affection for his younger brother.

Whether or not Sam knew of this, you had no clue. And now in your nun getup, it was all too fitting that you began to pray that Sam was unaware. The two of you calmly made your way past the yellow police tape, preparing warm smiles for a victim’s family.

Sam knocked on the door, letting out a bated breath. Weren’t nuns supposed to dress modestly? Your outfit was the proper attire, but the way it hugged your curves left too much to Sam’s imagination. It was his turn to pray that it didn’t stir too much in him, to let him keep his composure.

An older man answered the door, his expression easing at the sight of your attire. Turns out this costume was better received than you thought. You had to channel your tone and proper verbiage before speaking.

“Apologies for showing up unannounced, Mr. Peters. I’m Father Jeremy, and this is our sister from a local church.” Sam waved a hand for you to introduce yourself.

You chose to use your name, seeing that this was your first nun-appearance.

“We’re here on behalf of the church to offer support for your family, but we also have a couple of questions, if you don’t mind.”

Hopefully there were no questions about the nearest Catholic church, otherwise this whole façade would crumble. Mr. Peters’ face only softened further.

“I’m glad you’re here, Father, Sister,” he addressed you with a sad smile, “Please, come in.”

Sam stepped in first, using a beckoning finger behind him to have you follow him. The house was modest, but eloquently decorated. You recalled the murder that had happened, that brought you to this town, and shuddered. Mr. Peters’ daughter had been brutally murdered and discarded in a creek, signs indicating the presence of a vampire. Their daughter had been missing for two weeks before the time of death, which is what you and Sam aimed to discover.

“Mr. Peters, we are part of a youth outreach program at the church. Our aim is to help troubled youth, with restorative services and social connection. We were wondering if your daughter had any odd behaviors before she went missing. Perhaps she became more secluded?”

The man looked confused at first, “Odd behavior?”

Sam gave a small nod, “We notice that teenagers in need of help oftentimes become more distant with their families. Our goal is to provide better services to our youth, which does include finding the source issue.”

Mr. Peters have a small background of his daughter, admitting that she had become distant with the family. Not just that, but her anger had only worsened, amongst several harmful habits. It wasn’t uncommon for teens to become immersed in the occult and all things dark, but being surrounded by the wrong people can lead to harmful connections.

“I see,” Sam started, “and do you know what kind of people she was surrounding herself with?”

Another confused look from Mr. Peters.

You added, “This way, we’re able to identify warning signs - things to be wary of as our youth members meet new people.”

This seemed to clear things up, bringing out a detailed recount of his daughter’s recent social group. But, their social media had been recently deleted, preventing the family from getting their closure. As far as they knew, their daughter had made new friends, ran from home, and was found brutally murdered.

Sam’s eyes darted to you when you shifted in your seat, the fabric of your black dress sliding gracefully along your thighs. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but seeing you dressed up like this sent his mind spinning. The last thing he should be thinking of is taking you dressed like this, but he couldn’t shake it. His mind raced of scenarios the two of you could create, each one dirtier than the last.

But right now, the task at hand was covering the tightness of his pants. He leaned forward, the broad muscles of his arms flexing beneath his black shirt. Blush creeped onto your cheeks, much to the attention of Mr. Peters, who looked at you with concern.

“Sister, are you feeling alright?”

You nodded and gave a small wave, “Oh, I’m fine. Just a little warm is all. I apologize.”

Mr. Peters stood, “No need to apologize, let me get you some cold water. I’ll only be one moment.”

The room had gone oddly quiet paired with Sam’s intent stare at your face. You turned to find a concerned Sam inspecting you fully.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asked softly.

A slight nod, “Yeah, it’s just stuffy in this outfit.”

“Well, once we’re back at the motel we can get you out of it.”

A beat later Sam realized how that sounded. He tried to backtrack, but Mr. Peters had already returned with your glass of water, which you gratefully sipped on. It took everything in your power to resist the images that came to mind. Sam’s hands roaming your body, stripping that baggy dress off of your body, his mouth finding every nook and cranny of your neck.

Sam seemed to have taken over the conversation for the last few moments before standing. Mr. Peters had already given a short list of his daughter’s friends, and their usual hang-out spots. Your attention snapped back to reality; you placed the water glass down with a small thank you, being pulled up by Sam.

His hand could practically wrap the entirety of your arm, his grip stable and warm. Goosebumps rose on your arms, brushing against the tough fabric of your dress. The air outside carried the comfort of fall, the breeze being cool and refreshing on your hot cheeks.

At the car, Sam reached for your door to open it for you, something completely new to the both of you. You glanced up at him with wide eyes. The movements he made to reach the handle had pulled your bodies dangerously close, fully brush against his chest, pressed into the car. A inexplicable scenario that would raise a few eyebrows, for certain.

“Sorry, I just didn’t want you to trip on your dress,” breathed Sam.

Honestly, he was thankful for the little slip up - being this close to you had been a wish of his, but there had never been any excuse for it to happen. Your focus shifted from his soft, hazel eyes down to his parted lips. Sam’s attention shifted to your lips, lowering to your chest for a split second. A selfish move on his part, but the damage had already been done.

Your hand fumbled for the door handle, fingers sliding over his own. The two of you shared another longing glance before getting you into the car. Sam tucked in loose bits of your dress so the door wouldn’t snag on them.

“Alright, hands and feet it, watch out,” he whispered. You noticed how his hands fumbled more than usual, surely due to the nerves. Perhaps you had been reading this wrong, maybe you had taken things too far? Maybe you had overstepped and embarrassed him?

“Thank you,” you replied, giving him a genuine smile. Sam’s cheeks flushed, unmistakably a sign that maybe your anxieties been just that. Simple anxieties from overthinking this whole thing.

Now settled in the car, the two of you made the trip back to the motel. After stepping inside you beelined for the bathroom.

At least, until Sam’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Hey, could I talk to you about something?”

You turned to face him, eyebrows raised. You’d be lying to yourself if you said your heart didn’t skip a beat.

“What’s up?”

With the silence in the room, you took the cue to sit on the bed. Sam towered in comparison, his lean physique defined by the lamplight.

His voice softened, “I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to get that close, I-“

“Sam, it’s okay,” you cut him off with a laugh, “don’t worry about it. I wasn’t bothered by it.”

He relaxed his shoulders. Sam began to dig through his bag for another set of clothes.

“You look good as a priest, by the way. You sell the bit nicely,” you stated.

What you said made his heart skip a beat. Was that a compliment, or just conversation? Sam couldn’t tell, so he turned to you once more with a goofy grin on his face.

“Thanks,” his expression darkened as his eyes raked you over, “You look good as a nun.”

There was no mistaking it - he was taking his time looking over you. Your breath hitched in your throat when he turned, leaned casually against the desk your bags laid on. You transfixed on the way his hands moved around his belt buckle. Mildly fiddling, but you couldn’t help but imagine him following through.

“Not my best outfit, but thank you,” you replied. Sam pushed away from the desk, slowly stepping toward the bed where you sat, tense with every step.

“I would agree there, you’ve worn better,” he commented.

You head snapped up to meet his eyes. A surprise note of flirtation filled your voice.

“Okay, so what’s my best outfit, then?”

He scoffed, “We playing twenty questions?”

You pointed to your outfits, smirking proudly at him, “Look at our getup, man, it’s like a confessional.”

A bright laugh came out of Sam; he tilted his head back as he thought.

“My answer isn’t exactly… appropriate.”

“Sam,” you laughed, “Confessional. You gotta tell me.”

He let out a groan before lowering his head, steadily giving you his answer, “Your dark jeans, and that long sleeve shirt. The, um… the one with the v-neck, you wore it almost every day over winter.”

“And that was inappropriate?”

“It’s why I like it that’s inappropriate.”

“Okay, then, why do you like it?”

The last thing you expected was for Sam to close the distance. He stepped until he was directly ahead, arms crossed over his chest as he locked eyes with you.

“It made your ass look nice.”

His tone was surprisingly serious, like he had been thinking of this answer for a while.

“Hugs your body in the right ways. And it makes your, well, chest… look nice.”

Sam humored your shocked expression but pushing things further. If you could dish it out, he could dish it back.

“What’s my best outfit?”

As you collected yourself, Sam stepped closer, bringing a hand to your cheek. He lifted your head, his thumb grazing over your cheek.

“It’s a confessional. You have to tell me,” he joked, earning a slight glare from you. That sour face melted away when Sam placed his hand beneath your chin. He tilted your head back to have you look at him.

Shit.

“Jeans,” you breathed, “V-neck black shirt.”

Sam leaned in, brushing his lips across your cheek. The closeness set your skin ablaze, each trailing lip and finger sending shivers up your spine.

“Is that all?” Sam whispered.

His eyes met yours once again, a startling seriousness lurking inside. You pushed past the shyness of your answer. The honesty could break the tension that had building all this time.

“Pajama pants… no shirt. When you just get out of the shower.”

Sam’s lips curled into a satisfied smile before planting a slow kiss to your cheek. He moved gradually to your jawline, sprinkling chaste kisses until his lips hovered over yours.

“Have you wanted this?” he asked.

Your frustration was intangible - a bottle that had been shaken too much, and ready to blow. He was centimeters, millimeters away from giving you what you’d truly wanted. The silence between you signified the utter defiance to give him this so easily.

“Confessional,” Sam’s voice reverberated against you, but he offered nothing to your pleading lips, “tell me, little nun, have you thought about this? Wanted my lips on yours?”

A small whine escaped you as Sam’s hand lowered to your throat, pressing softly to the tender flesh. The loss of blood flow muddled your thoughts into complete ecstasy, with no urgency to regain control. With just one move, it was clear to Sam that you were undoubtedly his.

You gave him a small nod. A low growl thundered in his chest before pressing into you further, laying you flat on the bed. Locks of chestnut hair framed your face, with a breathy Sam hovering his mouth over your neck.

“Nodding doesn’t count. You gotta use your words, sweetheart.”

Amidst the constriction on your throat you nodded and choked out a small, "Yes."

Sam's growing smile is all you need to know you've satisfied something deeper within him. Darkness floods his eyes seeing you like this, utterly at his will under his touch. If he'd known sooner that this would be the outcome, he'd have bought that nun outfit ages ago.

"That's better," he whispered.

------

Hi everyone! I know it's just a teaser for now, but I wanted to show you something I've been working on! I've also been pretty busy with work and writing for my book series, so things have been a bit busy for sure haha

I love you all, and I keep an eye out for the full version of Sinners!

[ladylilithprime]

Day 4: Birthday

SAM WINCHESTER WAS just about to turn twenty-four when he was abducted by a Prince of Hell and thrown into a death tournament which he did not survive because he refused to kill another psychic human kid like him. He was just turned twenty-five the day his brother's deal to bring him back from the dead came due and Dean was dragged to Hell by the hellhounds. His twenty-sixth birthday was the last thing on his mind the day he went to kill Lilith to stop the Apocalypse only to learn too late that her death was the Final Seal to break and ensure that Lucifer walked free. And he was only just twenty-seven when his love for Dean helped him wrench control of his body back from a Fallen Archangel and drop them both into the Cage to be sealed away again, Michael and Adam dragged along for the ride when the eldest Archangel tried to stop him.

Sam's reckoning of his birthday got a lot more fuzzy after that point, what with his soul trapped down in the Cage while his body wandered around for a year and a half without him. Dean had once confessed to a similar disorientation regarding his own age, particularly the question of whether or not to count the four months spent dead verses the forty years his soul spent in Hell. He hadn't felt much like celebrating what should have been his thirtieth birthday in the middle of the Apocalypse, and neither of them had paid much attention to birthdays in the years since then.

So it was a bit of a jolt when Dean came up to Sam and clapped him on the shoulder, saying, "Well, Sammy, the big three-oh! What'cha wanna do for it?"

"I don't," Sam said after a moment of floundering as he scrambled to identify what his brother was even talking about. "We didn't celebrate your thirtieth, so why bother with mine?"

"C'mon, Sammy," Dean almost whines, looking supremely uncomfortable. "I wasn't in a good place that time, you know that."

"Well I haven't been in a good place on my birthday for over five years now," Sam pointed out, just barely restraining the urge to snap. He saw the moment Dean, thinking back, actually remembered what had been happening on or around Sam's birthdays for the last several years. "Yeah. There's a lot of anniversaries sharing the date that I don't feel like celebrating."

Dean had backed off after that, for which Sam was grateful. He didn't think he could have actually admitted to Dean's face that one of the reasons he didn't feel like celebrating was because he couldn't see a point in celebrating the birth of Lucifer's Vessel, Azazel's favorite, the demon-blooded abomination he had once tried to convince his young parents not to even conceive.

HE SHOULD HAVE known that wouldn't be the end of it.

"Okay, so the actual day has some bad memories attached that make it awkward for you to celebrate on, I get that," Dean said when he ambushed Sam in the library of the Bunker, startling Sam and causing Castiel to look up curiously. "So what if we pick a date, like, two weeks after that without any of those negative associations and make that your new birthday to celebrate?"

"Dean," Sam groaned in protest, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I really don't care enough to celebrate at all, regardless of the date!"

"Are birthdays something important in your culture to celebrate?" Castiel asked, frowning in confusion when Dean said "yes" at the same time that Sam said "no".

"It's complicated, Cas," Sam sighed, ever the more patient one with explaining human things to their angel friend. "Birthdays and birthday parties mostly tend to be focused on young children or the elderly, marking another year surviving to reach adulthood or into advanced age. Many people also use it as an excuse to solicit gifts from others, or even just an excuse to have cake and ice cream."

"Wow, cynical much?" Dean grumbled, holding up his hands when Sam glared at him. "But see, that's kinda my point. I know we didn't celebrate my thirtieth, but it's not like hunters tend to live very long once they start hunting!"

"Hunters also tend to be less inclined to celebrate their birthdays with more than a shot or six at a bar," Sam pointed out with a roll of his eyes. "Not my idea of a good time."

"Would you prefer cake and ice cream?" Castiel asked with a curious tilt of his head.

"I'd prefer not to even bother," Sam muttered. When Castiel continued to look at him expectantly, he sighed and said, "Look, whether by accident or design on the part of any number of beings, my birthday just... really isn't a good day, and the surrounding days aren't much better. Too many 'end of the world' situations cropping up on or around it, and even when we were kids about the only person who bothered marking it was Dean. I don't know why he's so eager to celebrate this year, especially after practically snapping at me to ignore his own, but I'd just as soon not."

"I see," Castiel said in a measured tone that immediately put Sam on edge. Before he could say anything or even pray for Castiel to stop, the angel said evenly, "You do not believe that your existence is worth celebrating."

Sam got up from the table, ignoring Castiel's penetrating gaze and Dean's stricken one, and left the library.

IT WAS CASTIEL who found him hiding in his room later. The angel who was most used to bypassing thresholds to fly directly into whichever room the person he sought might inhabit showed a marked restraint and consideration for personal privacy and boundaries by knocking lightly on the door and waiting for Sam's mumbled "come in" before nudging it open enough to enter. "Hey, Cas."

"Sam," Castiel returned, coming to a stop just inside the door, as if unsure of how far he should enter the room. "I apologize if I misspoke earlier."

"You didn't," Sam sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I mean, I kinda wish you hadn't said it in front of Dean, but it is what it is and it's not like you were wrong."

"Much like Dean, you do not wish to burden your brother with the pain you carry inside yourself," Castiel murmured. "Sam... are you so resistent to celebrating your birth and continued existence because Dean has refused to celebrate his own?"

"That's... part of it," Sam acknowledged. He didn't really want to get into all the reasons he felt that celebrating his birthday was a worthless and frankly inappropriate endeavor, not with Castiel and not when he knew the number of birthdays he even had left to him once the Trials were complete would be numbered zero. That was definitely a conversation he wasn't ready to have, though, so he refocused. "I mean, celebrating my birthday while ignoring his? That's like some weird double standard of favoritism, and I don't want to encourage that crap."

"I see," Castiel hummed thoughtfully. "Sam? What is the significance to turning thirty years old?"

"Not much," Sam answered with a half-shrug. "It's a decade marker, a big round number that makes it slightly more significant to reach than just counting one year after another. Thirty, forty, fifty... it's more of a minor milestone than anything else, at least until around sixty-five or so."

"Then perhaps Dean would accept a compromise," Castiel suggested. "Dean will be turning forty in five years and eight months. If he will agree to allow you to celebrate that day, perhape you might agree to allow him to celebrate your fortieth birthday when it comes to pass?"

It was so like Castiel to try and find a compromise for them like this, and Sam didn't have the heart to admit to the angel why he knew it wouldn't happen.

"Sure, Cas," he said instead. "If Dean'll let me make a big fuss for him on his fortieth birthday, I'll let him celebrate however he wants for mine."

"May I inform Dean of the suggestion and your agreement?" Castiel asked, and left Sam's room when Sam nodded, presumably to go find Dean. Oh, well. Hopefully Castiel wouldn't be too disappointed when Sam didn't make it to summer.

THE GRANITE STONE bore the name "Dean Campbell" and the inscription "There'll be peace when you are done," along with Dean Winchester's birth year and only the most recent date of death. It had been very tempting to put down every single date that Dean had died in a column marching down the stone, but that would have raised too many eyebrows in the public cemetery. As it was, the plot was small and held a ceramic urn with the salted ashes left behind after the hunter's funeral Dean had been given. The other side of the stone remained blank, a stark testament to the fact that the space beside Dean remained unoccupied by a matching urn and with no sure plan of when it would be filled.

Sam slowly let out the breath in his lungs and crouched down before the headstone, absently clearing away a few weeds that were trying to grow up over the base. He didn't speak; there was nothing left to say that hadn't been said in a barn surrounded by beheaded bodies. No point, either, since he knew there was no one listening... no one he wanted to hear him.

With a hand that only shook a little, Sam set an empty shot glass in front of the engraved words and filled it with cheap whiskey from an old metal flask. A matching shot glass was lifted and filled, and then Sam set aside the flask and clinked his shot glass against the one waiting.

Happy birthday to me, he thought with a sad, wistful little smile. He picked up the other shot glass and poured it out over the grass where he knew the urn was buried as he downed his own shot, closing his eyes against the burn that was more from tears than alcohol.

"Sam," a soft voice called from behind him. Sam stiffened and twisted around, wondering who the hell would approach him in a cemetery and say his name like that--

His breath caught.

The vessel was different. Whether that was because the body of Jimmy Novak had been taken directly from Earth by the Empty or some other reason, it was not that familiar face and frame standing before him. Not even that stupid tan overcoat remained after that. The dark hair was similar, as were the blue eyes, but everything else was different. Softer and thinner and more like that one vessel he remebered being described from a trip back in time. And yet Sam couldn't help but recognize Castiel in the woman standing there, from the strong posture and curiously tilted head to the faint shadow of wings hovering behind her shoulders.

"Dean wishes for me to apologize for him that he cannot be here to celebrate with you," the angel said softly, reaching out a hand and helping Sam to his feet when he took it automatically. "He hopes that I will make an acceptable substitute and birthday gift." A pause, and then, awkwardly, Castiel added, "I was given a bow to put in my hair if you wish."

Sam snorted, helplessly, and then with the dam broken he dissolved into helpless laughter and pulled Castiel into a tight hug. Not the brother who had promised to celebrate with him, but the angel who had made that promise happen. Substitute, no, but gift? He'd take it.

And he swore he would keep this gift for as long as he could.

[ajvocals43]

could you write one where dean is just having a rough day and doesn’t want to be alone when he goes to sleep but also doesn’t want to ask the reader to cuddle him because he’s dean💀 like a little fluff and comfort

This is so cute. I'm not used to writing comfort for others but I tried. It kind of took a turn from where I was going originally, but I hope you like it all the same.

What I'm Here For

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count:

Warnings: Mentions of PTSD, slight swearing

A/n: This was shorter than I thought it was going to be and honestly, I got excited about a part of it that I actually ended up using for a different fic so that's another thing.

Ever since Dean’s been back he’s been off. Which is to be expected I guess, I mean… he was in hell. Believe me, Sam and I would never forgive ourselves for not being able to bring him back. I don't know how he survived as long as he did down there. It was to be expected that he’d be pretty traumatized. He tries to play it off but we can see it. The fear behind his eyes, the sadness and the anger. That last one was pretty apparent; specifically when anyone tried to get him to talk about that time. He was always on edge. He closed himself off from us. Until he snapped at Sam which was worrying; because if he wouldn't talk to Sam, he surely wouldn't talk to me. 

 Dean and I’s bond was strong but not as strong as his bond was with his brother. Anyone with common sense knew that the brothers’ bond was stronger than pretty much anything. Our relationship was…complicated to say the least. We both knew that there was something under the surface, there were looks and kisses and…other things… but with everything our lives entailed, we were both too scared to identify it. But even then, apparently we were not great at hiding those feelings, as we’d been told by others.

Multiple times. 

Today had been a great example of that as tension surrounded the house that only the two of us occupied. Sam and Bobby had left earlier on to head to the local library, only to be caught in one of the biggest storms I’d ever seen. They’d called a little earlier to say that they were staying to help with crowd control and they’d head out when the storm passed. Which left me and Dean at Bobby’s house with not much to do. We’d busied ourselves with research on the apocalypse and whatever we could get our hands on about the angels.

Until the power went out. 

Now I was sitting in the kitchen in the dark at… 12am waiting for Dean to get back from checking the main breaker panel out back. The only light came from the fire in the study and the few candles across the floor to ensure that we didn't fall on our faces. It was cold and rainy and windy and dark and he’d refused to let me go with him. It wasn’t a big deal but I didn't want to just sit here like some kind of damsel. But that was a fight I wasn't in the mood to pick tonight.

 A gust of cold wind and rain blew through the house as the door swung open in front of Dean’s shadowed figure. And straight out of a movie, a bolt of lightning shot across the sky, visible through the open doorway. And Dean was just standing there. 

“Is that supposed to be scaring me?” I called from my place in the entryway.

No answer.

“Would you come inside? It's freezing out there!” 

Still no answer.

“Dean?” I was getting impatient. And cold. 

Another lightning bolt cracked across the sky and it was then that I noticed Dean’s figure shaking. It hit me then. “Oh my g- Dean!” I rushed toward him, pulling him into the house and kicking the door shut behind him. I hadn't thought about the PTSD the storm would’ve caused for Dean. His movements were jerky and stiff as I helped him peel the drenched coat and flannel from his arms. I moved him over to the fireplace and went to the kitchen to find something hot to drink. 

 Sometime later I was walking back into the study with two steaming mugs. “Thankfully, Bobby has a gas stove.” I announced. Dean turned around in time for me to hand him one of the mugs. “Careful, it's hot.” 

“Thanks, mom.” Dean grumbled, blowing steam off the top. I chuckled, relieved that he was getting back to normal. It was quiet for a while…well until Dean took a sip. “Ugh. What is this?” 

 I laughed, “it’s tea, Dean.” 

“It’s gross is what it is.” He said, putting his cup down. 

“It’s healthier than alcohol.” I said, taking a sip of my own only to spit it back out. “Nope, that's disgusting.” I put my mug down next to Dean’s, laughing.  

I was relieved to see the tension start to ease from his frame as he joined me in my laughter. “I didn't even know Bobby had tea.” 

“Yeah…probably not the best choice on my part.” I leaned back next to Dean. Because Bobby’s couch was so damn old, I sunk in further than I thought I would, but neither of us said anything. We both shifted around a little before we got comfortable. 

 It was quiet for a while after that. I wasn't going to prod at Dean about the elephant in the room. He would talk about it when he was ready. Plus, I was not in the mood to get into another fight with him right now. We were all the other had for the moment since there was no power and nobody nearby. There wasn't any danger nearby and it was getting late. We both should have headed to bed but I didn't say anything for a while. 

 Until I realized I was starting to fall asleep on the couch. And so was he. We were snuggled pretty close at this point but neither of us mentioned it. I certainly wasn't going to complain about being this close to his warm body. 

"You should go to bed." I said quietly.

“What? No. I’m good.” The exhaustion was slurring his words. But no way was I leaving Dean. That storm was still raging outside. If anything, it’d gotten worse. Dean might’ve acted like he was okay but that didn't mean I had to. He was exhausted but I knew that he wouldn't sleep like this. His nightmares were bad enough and that was if he could fall asleep in the first place. 

"Dean."

 “I’m fine,” he insisted. More lightning lit up the sky, followed by a loud rumbling of thunder and I felt Dean stiffen beside me. I knew by this point that physical contact was the way to get through to him when he was scared. I tried grabbing his hand that rested on his leg but it didn't seem like enough. So I let go and stood up. 

"What are you doing?" he asked.

 “Lay down,” I said. He wasn't going to go to bed by himself. If I left him alone, he would probably just drink and wait for Bobby and Sam. 

"Y/n-"

“Shut up and lay down.” I insisted. “On your side.” I corrected.

The fear was still there but now it was mostly covered with confusion. But he complied, only jumping slightly when more thunder rolled outside. I hesitated for a second but then laid down next to him. I wrapped my arms around him, hoping that he didn't push me away. Well, physically at least.

It took him a second but eventually Dean pulled me into him, tangling our limbs so I couldn't tell where exactly I ended and he began. But I felt him relax again, breathing a sigh into my hair. “Thank you.” he murmured.

 “Don't worry about it.” I said back quietly. “It’s what I’m here for.” I nuzzled my face into his neck, bringing us as close as I could. All I could hope for was that this brought Dean as much comfort as it brought me. Not that I’d tell him but I cared for him more than I had for most people in my life. A lot more than I thought I would. I would do anything to help him. Always.

Masterlist

[wishbonedean]

I also have very strong, rant-worthy feelings about Mary (largely for personal reasons, shesquite triggering for me) and how she did/didn't fit in. (Also been a while since I watched those seasons, so I'm fuzzy.) I *do* think Mary finally begins to come around towards the end of her (second) life and probably could have had a much better relationship with them had they had more time (but this is the sad boy show, so of course the second hope rises, it gets squashed, a la Cas/Miracle take one/etc).

But however much Mary's characterization upsets me, i think it's important to remember that we never got to see a Mary pre-John (and thus, pre-divine influence). A cupid told Sam and Dean that they initially "couldn't stand each other" until a cupid intervened since they had a destiny to birth Sam and Dean. Not to make this a crossover episode, but young Mary (and even the Mary in the Winchesters spin-off) give me Katniss vibes- she's not dumb, and she knew the risks of having a "normal" life. Even if she wanted it, would she have wanted children knowing she'd racked up a list of monsters that might come out of the woodwork to target them down the line? Dean is often paralleled with Mary, and he is *constantly* hesitating about whether or not having a family is possible even if he did attempt to leave the life - we can't forget Mary was also traumtically orphaned by supernatural violence and if she's constantly paralleled with Dean, she may have had similar hesitations, so why did she go through with having children, knowing that Azazel's 10-year warning wasn't up yet, at the very least, she knew he was coming for her (and more specifically, wasn't planning on killing/targeting her, so she knew he would be coming for something else). Idk, it makes me question whether Mary truly had the agency over her own will to even have children, or was it heaven's influence that pushed her towards that purpose? We won't ever have an answer bc we never saw Mary (in this universe) before she "fell in love" with John.

I like to consider her second coming an awakening of sorts - she wasn't supposed to be alive anymore and had served her purpose, so maybe whatever hold heaven had over her died when she burned on the ceiling. Both her and her sons had to deal with the fallout of her finding her own agency under the circumstances (bc they put a lot of expectation on her as well - which i think is fair even as an adult child to ask of a parent within reason, and childhood wounds are weird and full of magical thinking, i don't blame them for struggling to let go of the childlike ideals they may have held towards her). She clearly needed time, and she made some fucked up choices behind their backs that she knew would damage their trust though, even if her heart was in the right place, so I have a hard time forgiving her, but then, all of TFW have done that to each other at some point so it's not like it's that much worse and I think Dean eventually recognizes hes treating her too harshly as compared to the rest of the family. I do think she's initially held to a higher expectation bc she's the mother, but i think that's what made Sam and especially Dean really struggle with her not being the person they expected her to be - flawed, sometimes hurtful, couldn't even cook! A completely different person from who Dean, at least, thought she was - even though it's nothing new, he'd had no idea she was even a hunter until s4.

I really do like where their arc was going though, bc she was just starting to find where she could fit in the family and dean was finally learning how to make room for the real Mary (esp since he was also learning to make room for his own real self, which, surprise surprise, was independent of Mary's actual influence - he thought she was a good cook and ran with that, becoming a great cook himself and turns out he didnt inherit that, that was all him, again, why i really like having the actual imperfect Mary around for him to identify his own value distinct from his parents who he always felt he got everything from, that nothing he did would be possible without their influence).

I agree, the pearl episode was weird, i chalk it up to weird djinn-like rules and maybe dean (edit: bc it's *crucial* to keep in mind that the pearl is responding to what *dean* wants/needs, whether he is *aware* of what exactly it is he wants/needs) particularly wanting the opportunity to have one night with his family of origin just to get the closure he needed to fully move on and be even more invested in his found family going forward. Maybe he didnt necessarily want John back, but maybe what he really wanted was the ability to *finally* absolve himself of whatever familial duty he felt towards honoring their memory so he could stop feeling so haunted by it (edit: bc let'sbe real, he doesnt need closure with bobby or ellen or jody in that way, none of them haunt him the way his family of origin does, the greater "need" exists in addressing the relationship/role he has with his family of origin - he doesn'teven use the time to focus to greatly on the harm done, they clearly focus on having a good time and dean is satisfied that they were capable of being a family at least once, that they werent a lost cause, and even if they only had one day, they could come together to make it count, and they really did come together to fulfill deans wish with the only opportunity they had - they pulled a lot of shit, but dean will always have this memory that they loved him enough to take his lead and not squander this opportunity). I dont remember much about the episode itself, i could be off-base, but that was more or less my takeaway.

The Winchester Family: A Rant

Can I just say that Sheriff Jody Mills was more of a mother to Sam and Dean Winchester more than Mary ever was, even after Amara brought her back. Like I guess no hate to Mary...? But like isn't the whole thing about the Winchesters is that family isn't just blood. They developed wayy closer bonds than the ones with Mary, and I know it isn't necessarily her fault, but she wasn't there. Like I dunno, I just wasn't in love with Mary coming back, especially since when she did come back, it seemed like she saw they were grown up and like, didn't care..? Like it felt like she went "oh my job is done these are just two grown dudes that I gave birth to once." Like I know its a weird situation, but as a person who grew up watching Once Upon a Time, where like almost the same thing happened, with Snow, David, and Emma, I can't help but compare their reactions and Mary just didn't stack up.

Snow and David were so ecstatic to see Emma and tried so hard to make up for lost time and parent her as much as they could. They kept trying even as Emma pushed them away saying she was grown and that her and her parents were technically the same age. Throughout the show they found a way to still be her parents while still acknowledging she was grown. It was really beautiful to see, but in comparison Mary did not stack up.

Yes, she is a badass, and, yes, her identity should not solely surround her being the boys' mother, but that doesn't mean she shouldn't be a mother at all. It would've been nice to see her figure out a way to strike the balance the Snow and David did, and I never got that vibe. In Supernatural, it seemed the opposite. It was Dean and Sam trying to be her sons and she pushed them away for the same reasons. I'm not saying she was a bad person, or even a bad mother, as it was a really weird situation and I can't necessarily blame her for how she dealt with it. What I AM saying, though, is that her name had no right to be carved onto that table. Point. Blank. Period.

Also, by the way, since I'm complaining, that weird episode with the pearl thing that let John Winchester come back so they could have a family dinner?????? As if that could truly be what Dean desired. Are you fucking kidding me. John sucked, made them both feel like shit, abused them, and yet that was the "family dinner" we got. It's been a while since I watched the show, so Idk a timeline, but screw the timeline for a sec. Across the entire show, a true family dinner would be Dean and Cas with their son Jack, Sam as the Uncle with Eileen, Bobby and Jody as the Dean and Sam's parents (because, unlike Mary, I very much feel like Jody struck that balance even though they weren't her actual sons) and Jody's brigade of wayward sisters trailing behind her, Donna as like the step-mother or aunt (Idk how Donna fits, I just LOVE Donna), and Charlie as Sam and Dean's little sister. Jo, Ellen, and Ash pop in with Rufus as those family members that are close, but you can't quite pinpoint how exactly you're related to them. Bonus: Kevin and Linda Tran come over like friendly neighbors because, even though they have a family of their own, the Trans are definitely close to the Winchesters, though, whether they like it or not. As much as I'd like to add Adam (to make up for him being left in the pit), I have a feeling he wouldn't want to. He seemed like a guy who refused to subscribe to the idea that because they were blood, they were family. (Maybe Sam and Dean should've learned a thing or two).

TL;DR:

Sam and Dean had a much bigger, and better, family then just John and Mary, but it was never really acknowledged fully and in the best way.

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2022 | Day 25 | Mutual Pining

Charles in Charge | @blessyourhondahurley

Rating: General Word Count: 1,292 Main Tags/Warnings: destiel au Summary: Charlie gets sick of dealing with her pining friends and makes something beautiful happen.

Bouquet | @blessyourhondahurley

Rating: General Word Count: 1,348 Main Tags/Warnings: destiel au, destiel fluff Summary: Dean Winchester, owner and Chef de Cuisine of Impala, has been pining for his Patissier Castiel Novak for years. Apparently the reverse is also true. Will one of them make a goddamn move already?? (Spoiler: Yes.)

it's real, love | @acklesology

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 3,600 Main Tags/Warnings: Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, POV Alternating Summary: castiel has been in love with his best friend dean for the last three years. after dean breaks up with his long time boyfriend castiel wonders if it's finally his chance. but dean couldn't love him like that, right?

When Will I See You Again? | @Pssy_wagn

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 3,661 Main Tags/Warnings: Creature Castiel Summary: Dean befriends a merman and their friendship soon blossoms into something more.

Don't Ever Change | @lotsofquestionslimitedanswers

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4,373 Main Tags/Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, pre-relationship, mutual pining, Summary: Cas rescues Dean from Zachariah and they have a heart-to-heart. Dean tries to ignore his feelings for a certain endearing angel in a trenchcoat. This takes place between the time when Dean gets back from 2014 and when Dean meets Sam.

Witchers, Winchesters, and Werewolves, Oh My! | @polymona

Rating: Mature Word Count: 6,467 Main Tags/Warnings: crossover, mutual pining, idiots in love, hand holding, huddling for warmth, bed sharing, canon-typical violence Summary: Dean takes Cas to a case at a Renaissance Faire where they fall through a portal to the universe of The Witcher. Dropped into the middle of a pack of werewolves, they fight alongside a couple of strangers. Castiel saves the bard who then starts flirting with the oblivious angel. Dean is jealous.

Serendipity: A Destiel Christmas Rom Com | @dorian-they-ao3

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 39,799 Main Tags/Warnings: Christmas Fluff, Fate & Destiny, Romantic Comedy, Therapist Castiel, Mechanic Dean Winchester, No Cheating/Infidelity, First Meetings, Comfortably Bisexual Dean Winchester, Bisexual Castiel, POV Alternating, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Light Angst, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Endgame Castiel/Dean Winchester Summary: After a chance meeting while Christmas shopping for their boyfriends, Dean and Cas make a deal: they will spend one, totally innocent evening in the city together without exchanging last names, phone numbers, or any identifying details. Five years later, each of them finds themselves engaged to new partners, but neither has forgotten about that one magical evening they spent together. Will Dean and Cas be able to find each other again before they each tie the knot, or will they be too late?

Sticks and Stones (WIP) | @rowanspn

Rating: No Rating Word Count: 43,486 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon-Typical violence, Blood and Gore, Homophobia, Homophobic Society Summary: One year after the victory of Katniss Everdeen, the 75th Quarter Quell loomed over the heads of all of Panem. Dean Winchester was used to caring for his family. He fed them, clothed them, and kept his brother safe from every harm. Now, the day before the Reaping, his efforts would be tested as the sick twist in the annual slaughter would be revealed and will leave all of Panem wondering, who will bring home the crown?

Dear Temporary Neighbour | @thefandomsinhalor

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 45,630 Main Tags/Warnings: Neighbors AU, Mutual Pining, Small Town, Misunderstanding/Miscommunication Summary: When Dean needs to remind himself how very much engaged his new summer neighbour is, he grows desperate and infuriated with himself for having fallen for him. If only he knew that Castiel has sought refuge at this charming house by the lake to reflect on certain aspects of his life, notably his engagement.

[slowpoke-fics]

Hidden Hunter

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Crowley x Reader

Summary: Crowley is your best friend, has been for years and taught you a lot of what you know. However, you aren't associated with the boys.

Warnings: mention of injury and stitches, slow burn, hint at death, I could be missing some, I am not perfect please read at your own risk

A/N: I loved this fic, I hope you guys do too! Oh! And a favor I ask of you. The more I write the more I worry about warnings. If you ever see anything I write not have a warning it should, please tell me.

You pulled into your motel, harshly parking your car and storming into your room. Muttering to yourself as you slid your shirt off, door barely slamming shut, "Stupid motherfuckers couldn't just listen. Couldn't just-" you let out a guttural scream, "I tried. I tried." You shook your head, unbuttoning your pants as you heard Crowley behind you, "Hello, Mouse." You slipped your pants off, turning to look at Crowley, not missing the way his eyes studied the curves of your body. "Hey, Crowley."

Crowley took in your ragged and bloody appearance. Dried blood scattered throughout your hair, on your arms, tiny nicks and cuts over your body with a nasty gash on your torso. Crowley's eyebrows raised and he spoke as you went into the bathroom turning on the shower, "I guess they didn't take the deal?" You poked your head out of the bathroom, glaring at him, "No, they didn't captain obvious." Crowley laughed, sitting on the bed as you took a quick shower.

You ran your fingers through your hair, trying to get the blood out without stretching too far so you didn't irritate the gash on your stomach. You stepped out of the shower, washing all of the grime off of you made you feel a little better. "I hate hunting," you muttered to Crowley as you walked out of the bathroom, hair draped over your neck and a towel wrapped tightly around you. "Would you please get me a pair of shorts, a tank top and a pair of underwear out of my bag?" Crowley smiled at you, already on his way to your bag, "Of course, love."

You stood there looking at Crowley as he ruffled through your bag. His suit clinging to all the right spots, curling around his biceps, tight around his thighs, unfortunately his ass covered by the length of his jacket, shoes nicely completing his look.

You'd met Crowley a few years back, when he was a lowly cross roads demon. You went to make a deal, planning to exchange your soul for the ability to track supernatural creatures so you could save them. Crowley took an interest in why you wanted to do such things. Realizing that you were a hunter that wanted to stop the deaths before they happen was important to you. Stop the needless death of humans and monsters alike.

You'd become close to him, allowing him to teach you the ways of the natural witch. After about a year you had learned enough that Crowley needed to come up with some other reason to stick around. So he started to offer his help with no strings attached as he took a liking to his little mouse. The hunter who only hunted those who hunt.

Crowley handed you the clothing, politely turning around before you dropped your towel. You slid your underwear on, groaning as you did so, causing Crowley too start to turn around. He stopped himself, asking permission first, "Let me help, yeah mouse?" You giggled, covering your boobs and huffing, "Yeah okay."

Crowley turned around, helping you step into the shorts and pulling them up, he handed you the towel to properly cover yourself on his way up. What a gentleman, you thought as he went over to your bag, digging out the emergency kit. "Lay, you need stitches," Crowley pointed to bed. You grumbled, he knew you didn't like stitches, "It's not even that bad, it's fine." Crowley glared at you, "Love, if you don't stitch that it's gonna take months to heal and likely get infected."

You laughed, laying down, "I could always just use a spell." Crowley shook his head, his playfulness with his best friend suddenly gone, "We've discussed that Y/n, it's not the kind of magic you want too mess around with." You put his hand on his arm, as he wet the rag he had with alcohol, in an attempt to comfort him, "I was just kidding, I know."

Crowley started cleaning the gash, making sure that you had gotten all the debris out. You hissed at him, you could see how curious he was, but you'd made a rule that he doesn't press hard unless it's bad. "So," you croaked out as he started stitching you, "what'd you do today?" Crowley smiled at you, secretly bashing you because if you'd just listen to him and find partners it wouldn't be like this.

"Well, I saw moose and squirrel-" You lifted your head, excited, "Sam and Dean?" He nodded, "Yes the royal pains in my ass. They were having trouble tracking some witch-" You giggled, "I could've helped them instead." Crowley tries to hide his genuine concern by joking, "Oh no doll, I don't think we'll be doing that." You furrowed your brows, "I still think we'd make a good team."

"Mouse, I don't ask for much," Crowley sighed, "if you want partners, I can find plenty of hunters that are not Winchesters." Crowley put gauze over your stitches, carefully pressing tape to hold them in place. You sat up, Crowley turning around to let you slip your tank top on, "Decent," he turned back around, "what is your problem? I never like other people enough to let them join me, but when I hear about someone you say no?"

Crowley sighed, "They're dangerous people, Y/n. I've told you I don't want you near them." You stared at him, "I just don't understand, you always tell me they're dangerous and I can't go near them but nothing else!" You stood up, starting to pace. "They're-huff-" Crowley looked away from you, closing his eyes tightly as they flashed with anger, "they'll do nothing but destroy you." With that Crowley was gone. You were used to your arguments ending like that, even your conversations. He would get called away and come back when he wasn't busy and that was fine, but you were going to look into the Winchesters while you had the chance.

You pulled out a map of the United States, channeling through your pendulum Crowley had hand made for you. You smiled, looking at the chain on one end a sharp pointed crystal rested, on the there a tiny little metal mouse, identifying it as yours, the only one on the planet like it. You took a deep breath, circling the crystal over the map focusing your energy on the image of the Winchester brothers. After a few minutes of scrying and finding nothing you decided to leave it for now, starting to pack up your things you began thinking about what was so bad about the Winchester brothers. Why did Crowley want you to stay away?

You didn't really know much about them aside from the little Crowley'd told you because you didn't really associate with other hunters. At the end of the day, you hated most of them. Hunters in general were crass, and you hated that. You are a ray of sunshine trying to preserve life and most hunters see something not human and kill it. That didn't sit right with you.

You thought about the things you did know about the brothers. They had been in this life their whole life. Had lost both parents, almost ended the world a couples times, saved it just as much if not more. Only really had each other, but Crowley had mentioned an angel on their shoulder-Castiel I believe? What did you even know about him?

"I don't believe I know you?" Your entire body went cold, turning as fast as you can to aim a gun in between his eyes. "That will do little damage to me," he spoke flatly. "I beg to differ, these here special made bullets to put your ass in back in hell, so tell me? What're you doing here?" The man is staring at you, confusion in his brows, arms by the edges of his trench coat, pants and shirt tidy, but not perfect, "I am Castiel, an angel of the lord. You called to me." Before you could even think of a response, Crowley was standing next to you. Eyes holding fear, not ager, he speaks lowly, a whisper under his breath.

"What have you done little mouse?"

You lowered your gun, not sure if it was because it wouldn't do damage or because you felt safe with Crowley there. "I didn't call to anybody," you stare at Castiel, eyes boring into his as he speaks. "I beg to differ, I felt you, heard you, you seem to also need dealings with the Winchesters?" He looked to Crowley who he'd just seen not hours ago, "I am slightly concerned with Crowley being here." Crowley scoffed, "I haven't tried anything on the musketeers in years, I've been nothing but a friend and Y/n here was too curious for her own good." He growled out the end looking directly towards you, causing a rush guilt for going behind Crowleys back.

"I didn't mean to take you away from the Winchesters-" "You did not. I am a man of many abilities, helping people is one of them. At least allow me to heal you." You backed away as he stepped forward, "I am not going to hurt you." Crowley put his hand on your arm, trying to reassure you, "Well do it then Feathers, but uh-" Castiel healed you, you felt warmth, pain dissolving from your body, "can we keep her to ourselves?" Your eyes raised at Crowley, appalled by his gumption to hide you.

"Excuse me?" You jerked away from Crowley, Castiel raising his eyebrows at you. "Is that what you would like Y/n?" You looked at Crowley, his face a mix of anger and concern. "Can we? I promise I won't bother you." Castiel smiles at you, secretly reading you, "You wouldn't be a bother but I understand. I am happy to have healed you." Castiel was gone, Crowley already starting to pick your bags up. "We're gone now mouse."

He grabbed you, whisking you away. You looked around, taking in the room you were standing in. It was clearly an apartment, a nicer than you'd ever known anyone to have. You looked around, a sleek kitchen area, the bathroom door opened from the living room, the couch took up most of the living room, a nice coffee table in front of it but pressed to the wall.

"Crowley where are we?" He was glaring at you, a sour look on his face, "A safe house, I hoped we'd never have to use it." You shook your head, "Okay, but where? What about my car?" He shuffled on his feet, "In a few days when I know Castiel didn't spill the beans about you I will take you back to it." Crowley chuckled a little, but not answering as he reached out your bags for you to take. You huffed, taking your bags from him, and then he disappeared.

You walked over to the refrigerator, to your surprise it was stocked. Demons don't need to eat, you thought to yourself, a little confused and trying to figure out where you were, you moved to the window. You looked out and you couldn't have been but three stories up, but no markers as to your city or state. The bathroom was also stocked shampoo, conditioner, soap, toilet paper, toothbrush and toothpaste?

Crowley reappeared, holding the rest of your things and your gun. You took it from him, anger over your features. "Crowley, are we in someone's apartment right now? You know how I feel about how you taking over peoples lives!" Crowley scoffed at you, "You know I respect you too much to violate your beliefs like that!" You rolled your eyes, tucking your gun behind your waistband, "Then who's apartment is this?"

Crowley made his was over to the cabinet, pulling out a bottle of liquor he conveniently knew where to find, "Technically yours. Like I said it's a safe house." You tapped the counter, letting him know you wanted a glass as you sat down, "Gonna have to do better than that." He poured your glass first, shrugging he started, "I pay for it, it's under a fake name, it's warded so you can't be found, do we need to get into logistics?" You downed your glass, picking up the bottle and filling up again, "You brought me here after I met Castiel, that's not exactly safe house worthy." Crowley shook his head, sipping on his own glass, "Yes it is cricket, yet it is." Your blood started to boil, you stood from your chair, seething with anger, you spit, "Crowley, if you don't stop acting like-"

"Like what? Like someone who wants to keep you alive?" You flinched at Crowleys words, waiting for him to continue, "Everyone that they're around dies, Y/n, dies. Hunter funeral, pile of ash, dies. Everyone but them; they will destroy you." You scoffed, "I'm pretty good at keeping myself alive thank you." He raises his eyebrows, smirking a bit, "Do you forget how we met mouse?" Your eyes connected with his, glaring, still seething with anger, "I was desperate not dead, there's a difference. Crowley, they can't be doing more damage than me hunting on my own. Maybe I could be a voice of reason-" Crowley slammed his glass down, grabbing the counter with both hands, "No! I don't know why you even want to know them!"

You studied Crowley, jealousy now seeping from him. Then it clicked. It clicked that you two were a bunch of shy kids. Bouncing around each other like you were fifteen for years now. Each thinking the other was uninterested, each thinking that you didn't deserve one another. Crowley rightfully so for a while, the things he did outside of you could be classified as horrendous, but your ray of sunshine had spread to him. Bringing out all of the good parts that once was Fergus Roderick MacLeod, reminding him of who he could be. You reminded him how to love, how to hold someone higher than yourself. Reminded him of what it's like to protect someone other than yourself, to need to.

"Crowley," you walked around the table and placed your hand on his, "please just tell me what's going on." Crowley didn't hesitate, he turned to you pressing his lips into yours. It took you a second to realize what was happening, and then you melted. You moved your arms around his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss, his stubble tickling you. Crowley tangled his fingers in your hair, taking a deep breath as he readjusted to meet your lips, tongue skirting your bottom lip before nibbling on it. You gasped at the action, the sound taking Crowley by surprise as he continued to glide across your lips, not missing the warm blush on your face.

Crowley was first to pull away, sliding his hand out of your hair and tucking it behind your ear, resting his hand there, he whispered, "I can't lose you." You planted a chaste kiss on his lips, smiling at him reassuringly, "You won't." He softened a little bit, sighing heavily before returning his lips to yours. Soft and gentle, savoring the moment as he tugged you closer to him with his arm around your waist. You pulled just an inch away, Crowleys eyes opening and making contact with yours, "Does this mean I get to meet the Winchesters?" Crowley growled at you, quickly lifting you by your thighs causing your to wrap your legs around him, "Absolutely not."

[winchester-purgatory]

My brother’s best friend | Dean Winchester (part 1)

Summary: Dean visits his brother in Palo Alto...and fall for the redhead crashing in Sam’s bed

Word count: 1.8k

-

Palo Alto, California 2004

''Are you kidding me?'' Sam grumbled as he checked through the peephole of his small apartment, seeing his big brother on the other side.

It was rare - very, very rare - that Dean would visit him. He'd rather vagabond from states to states in his precious Impala than visit his little brother who was in college, getting a degree, aka doing something of his life.

The only times he'd visit was if something happened to their dad - or when he needed something. Nine times out of ten, it was the latter.

Although they had been raised by the same man, the two brothers were very different. Their lifestyle, by example, was polar opposite. Sam was pursuing law studies and planned on become a criminal lawyer while Dean prefered to jump from states to states - or, in Sam's words, from bed to bed - without ever settling. He was also a walking trouble, always getting himself tangled in some messy crap.

When they were kids, their uncle Bobby used to joke and said that Sam would help Dean get out of jail one day. He couldn't be closer to the truth.

Reluctantly, Sam unlocked and opened the door, skipping the greetings. ''What are you doing here?'' he hissed at his brother, keeping the door as closed as possible - and blocked - so Dean wouldn't peek inside or simply invite himself in.

''Hello to you too, Sammy.''

''What do you want?'' Sam demanded.

''Who said I needed something? Can't I miss my little brother?''

If Sam hadn't known his brother so well, he would've believed him. But, this was Dean.

''It's almost midnight and I have class at eight, Dean. I don't have time for placotage. What is it this time? Your girlfriend dumped you? You're out of money? Whichever, I can't do anything. I'm just as broke as you.''

He wasn't always this intolerant, but school had been stressful these past weeks and the younger Winchester was running on short nights and large coffees from all his hard studying. Therefore, he wasn't in the mood to deal with Dean's bullshit.

Dean rolled his eyes. ''I'm not here for money. I just need a place to crash. I was at this car expo with some guys from the auto shop I work at and, instead of spending a handful on a shitty motel, I thought of you and your old couch.''

Auto shop? Last time they spoke, he was working night shifts at a 7/11. That's an upgrade, Sam noted.

''Nice of you to think of me, but you can't stay here. I...I sold the couch. And, I have to study for-''

I sold the couch? Try again Sammy.

Not letting the brunet finish, Dean ignored him and pushed the door wider, walking in as if it was his place.

He glanced around the small apartement, the office lamp on the desk creating a dim light throughout the whole place. Like Dean remembered, the appartement was cramped. You could barely fit any furnitures beside a couch, a desk and a bed. It was a college student appartement, you can't expect too much. He immediately remarked the laptop set up on the desk with a pile of papers ant textbooks, mimicking the same set up Sam had in his old bedroom.

''Dean, I said-''

Panic rose inside Sam, whirling around and trying to push the blond out of his apartment, but it was too late. He had seen her. The fire haired girl sleeping peacefully in Sam's bed.

A smirk formed on the older's lips, turning his head in Sam's direction. ''Is that what you were trying to hide from me? From Dad? That you had a girlfriend? Oh Sammy. Always been shy about that stuff...''

Sam closed the door and sighed. ''She's not my girlfriend. And, keep it down, will you?''

Dean cocked an eyebrow. ''Why is she sleeping in your bed then, uh?'' He shook his head, smirking, convinced that he had demasked his brother. ''You know, Sammy, you've never been the master liar between the two of us. Is that why you ignored Dad's calls? Because you were too busy-''

''Dean,'' Sam hissed, narrowing his eyes in warning, not letting him time to finish his sentence.

He knew how filter-less his brother was and, even though the redhead was sleeping soundly, Sam would rather not risk her waking up to some dude she didn't know was insinuating events that never happened between she and Sam. That would be creepy and awkward.

Dean rolled his eyes. ''Right. I forgot how much of a prude you are.''

''She's a friend,'' Sam insisted, sighing with tiredness. ''She got into a bad argument with her boyfriend and needed a safe place to stay.''

''And you're trying to make me believe nothing happened under the sheets?'' Dean sank into Sam's couch and shook his head disapprovingly. ''You're such a let down, Sammy... How can you let a hot girl crash in your bed and pass the opportunity for a good time?''

''Because, unlike you, I think with my brain instead of my dick. She needed a roof, Dean, not a new dick.''

Dean smirked. ''Look where that got you.''

.

Like always, Dean got what he wanted and crashed at Sam's.

Well, he 'accidently' fell asleep on the couch while his brother was studying, giving Sam no choice but to let him sleep after trying times and times to wake him unsuccessfully.

The sound of glass clashing and shattering pulled Dean from his sleep. He sat up, a bit startled by the noise, and squinted his eyes at the harsh morning light shining straight in his eyes. Does Sam not have blinds or something?

''Shit,'' slipped a feminine voice.

Dean rubbed his eyes, adjusting to the change of light and glanced around, catching the redhead from last night standing at the 'kitchen' area of Sam's appartement. She was wearing one of Sam's old tee shirt, her long hair cascading down her back. Dean bit down him bottom lip.

''Everything okay?'' he asked, trying to see what happened.

''Yes!'' responded a feminine voice. ''I just dropped and broke a plate. It's nothing.'' She bent down to clean her mess, using a towel to pick up the broken pieces.

Humming, Dean stretched his arms over his head, his back aching from Sam's raggedy couch, and stood. He should get a new one, this one sucks.

''Sorry for waking you,'' she apologized, running a hand through her hair, tucking a piece behind her ear in slight embarassement. ''I was trying to make coffee and...I don't know how it happened.''

''Apologies accepted if you tell me there's coffee left,'' Dean bargained with a sly grin.

The redhead stood and nodded at the coffee machine before throwing the broken pieces of plate in the trash. ''Lucky for you, there's enough left for a cup.''

Picking up a cup from Sam's perfectly neat cupboard, the blond poured the last of coffee, not bothering to rinse the empty carafe. Sam will get on his back about it next time he'll use it, but it's not like Dean cared.

''I'm Juliet,'' the girl introduced, taking a seat in the desk chair as there wasn't any barstools or dinning table - not that there was any room for one. ''And you're Dean, Sam's brother.''

Dean furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. How did she know his name? He opened his mouth to ask, but she beat him.

''Sam left a note.'' She nodded at the sticky post-it on the top of the coffee maker.

Left for class. This is my brother, Dean. Don't hesitate to kick him out if he gives you trouble.

- Sam

Reading said note, Dean scoffed.

''I take it you're not on on Sam's good side,'' Juliet assumed, smiling behind her mug.

He shrugged, leaning against the small counter. ''Typical brothers.'' Dean took a long gulp of his black coffee, sighing at the burning feeling of the biter liquid as it passed through his throat. ''Sam and I are very different. Polar opposites, I'd say.''

Juliet looked him up and down and hummed affirmatively. ''I can see.''

At first glance, you wouldn't be able to tell they were brothers. Other than having very different facial features, their style was also contrasting. Although it remained along the lumberjack vibes - thanks to their father -, Dean was all about his fetish leather jacket and flannels while Sam was more of a polo and zip up hoodies person.

A phone went off, interrupting their small talk and Juliet checked the screen, knowing it was hers. She looked at the caller ID, face turning blank as she read the identifier. She let it ring.

''You don't pick up?''

She shook her head, biting her bottom lip, lowering her eyes on her bare thighs.

Dean didn't mean to pry, but he might have seen a guy's name on the screen. If he sticks to what Sam had told him last night, it must be her boyfriend - whom she got into a fight with.

''Want me to pick up?'' he suggested, lightening the mood, mild-joking.

''What?'' Juliet chuckled. ''No. I...I'll call him back later.''

Cocking an eyebrow, Dean gave her a look. ''Lie.''

Her blue eyes looked up and caught his green irises, holding an unsaid staring contest. As Dean stared into her eyes, he felt as if he could see through her like open doors. He could see how utterly unhappy she felt in all aspects of her life and it pulled at his heart.

Instead of admitting defeat, Juliet broke their stare and abruptly rose from her seat. ''Not that I don't like this morning chatter, but I have to get ready for work. My boss is going to have my head if I arrive late during lunch rush.''

It was almost eleven and, if she ran fast, she had a chance to get there in time.

She put her empty mug on the counter and skipped to the bed, retrieving some bundled clothes from a backpack at the end of Sam's bed.

''You work at a restaurant?''

''A diner,'' she corrected, fulmining though the bag for one more item before heading to the bathroom to change.

''Do you happen to serve pie at your diner?'' Dean asked, feeling hungry.

Knowing his Sam, he probably only had healthy snacks in his mini fridge and Dean was not about that life. He'll only eat lettuce when it's served with bacon and cheese...in a burger.

Peeking her head from the bathroom's door frame, Juliet flashed him a grin. ''Sure do.''

.

Just like that, Dean ended up sitting at some old fashioned diner's counter, eating a cherry pie with a scoop of ice cream, as recommended by the waitress.

''We don't usually serve it like that, but I'll make an exception for you,'' Juliet said, deposing the plate on the counter, right in front of Dean. ''After all, you saved me from getting fired.''

Dean smiled and thanked her before diving into the cherry goodness. God, he loves pie!

[mittensmorgul]

Hi Mittens! Happy holidays! I love your meta and I had a question: I've seen you make a couple posts about Miracle lately, and while I'm definitely angry at canon replacing Cas with a dog, I was kind of taken aback at some of your comments about Dean and dogs (specifically how much you seem to hate that combination; I've never felt strongly about it one way or the other). Do you have a tag or post about your feelings on Dean and dogs? Or could you explain in a little more detail, please?

Hi hi!

Dean... has never been associated positively with dogs on this show-- up to and including that scene in Scoobynatural where he does the SCOOBYDOOBYDOOOOO! and Cas rolls his eyes and tells him flat out he’s not a talking dog. I mean, even in one of Sam’s heaven memories, he’s effectively replaced Dean with a dog... so while Dean was being implied-harshly-punished by John for “losing” Sam, Sam had been having the time of his life with a dog instead... Sorry, I’ve got a lot of resentment for dog symbolism in the show...

Cas has also been associated with dogs in a lot of... let’s go with derogatory comments, and since this dog in the finale was SPECIFICALLY a replacement for Cas in Dean’s life... I find it particularly insulting, you know?

5.14: We get dog comments about Cas and Dean both in this ep. Famine refers to Cas as Dean’s dog... “You sicced your dog on me, I threw him a steak.” And we see Cas crouched on the ground eating meat. Earlier in this ep, Sam teased Dean about his lack of any “appetite” for anything with the comment, “when a dog doesn't eat-- That's when you know something's really wrong.“

7.21: after being banished, he reappears at a dog track, where the dogs were unhappy. so... Cas was basically just another unhappy dog in this part of the story.

10.22: Rowena compares Cas to a “dog who thinks he’s people” for being an angel who rejected heaven and chose his family with the Winchesters.

10.23-11.03: Cas is literally under a spell referred to as “Attack Dog,” which he fights against but is slowly turning him into a killing machine. He seeks help from Heaven, but they only want to use him, to torture information out of him and then kill him once they get what they want. It’s implied he even kills a dog in 11.01.

11.06: when Cas is in the bunker still suffering from trauma related to the attack dog spell, lying in bed and watching tv, he changes the channel to a news story about a dog riding a skateboard, and the newscaster uses Rowena’s line from 10.22: “Aw, that dog thinks it’s people!”

12.19: Lucifer refers to Cas as the Winchesters’ “purse dog,” and s12 is littered with dog references, especially between Lucifer and Crowley (which started back in s11 when Lucifer was using Cas’s vessel and treating Crowley like a dog... there’s a lot of negative baggage attached to dogs on this show)

13.16: Scooby is obviously the one dog Dean’s okay with, having positive childhood associations with him. But when comparing themselves to the scooby gang, Sam says they don’t have a talking dog, and Dean replies that Cas is sort of like a talking dog... which is interesting because at the end of the episode Cas tells Dean he’s NOT a talking dog. And this, in a scene that was directly foreshadowing Dean becoming Michael’s suit...again, more negative baggage for both of them.

The Dean vs Dogs imagery really kicks in when Dean’s soul is destined for Hell in s3, though.

3.10: In his rant to his dream self, Dream!Dean accuses Dean of being as “mindless and obedient as an attack dog,” just a few lines before he gives the “daddy’s blunt little instrument” line that Cas reminded us of in 15.18. So I do think this is something that the writers couldn’t possibly have been unaware of in invoking that specific line and the specific baggage attached to it.

3.11, one of the MANY deaths Dean suffers is from a seemingly nice dog he tries to pet in a friendly manner. The nice golden retriever mauls him to death, like the hellhounds are due to do to him in just a few short episodes... 

3.16: literally torn apart by hellhounds... don’t know how else to make it clear that Dean Is Not A Fan of this.

4.06: suffering from Ghost Sickness, and being magically forced to experience heightened levels of fear, he runs from a lil Yorkie with a bow in its hair, pausing only long enough to warn another person on the street to run before it kills them. We are invited to see how his biggest fear-- of Lilith, of being tortured in Hell, and having been dragged there by hellhounds-- is literally tied to his feelings toward actual dogs, including nonthreatening little lap dogs.

6.01: When Dean falls under the djinn’s spell, he hallucinates an unseen monster, presumably something akin to a hellhound, but when he thinks he’s caught the monster, it’s the neighbor’s Yorkie. Just like in 4.05, Dogs, Hellhounds, and Things Dean Fears In His Soul are all tangled up together.

6.08: aka that one episode I forget exists until it comes back around on the loop (actually I don’t forget it exists anymore, I’ve seen the show too many times at this point, but meh...). But it does plant this fear, that any dog anywhere might not really be a dog. The “sleeper cell” skinwalker packs in cities all over the world? Yeah, not a happy thought for someone who really doesn’t like dogs. Or at the very least has a low-key fear of them.

7.15: I would qualify this one as just “symbolism,” but since this episode is full of anvils, it feels legit to mention that the spell Jeffrey uses to summon his demon back to him involves using Dean’s blood and a dog’s heart. Not really a dean/fear thing, but Dean AS a dog-- and a sacrificed dog at that.

8.01: When Dean gets back from Purgatory, he gets in the Impala and smells dog. Bringing on the famous rule that he’s quite angry about Sam having clearly violated even when he wasn’t on the same plane of existence at the time-- No dogs in the car. He’s still clearly not a fan. Early s8 becomes a long string of “Sam hit a dog” comments, too.

8.15: for all this episode’s grossness, it does remind us over and over again that Dean really does not like dogs. Even flat out having Dean say he likes dogs, and the woman who literally is a dog familiar tells him that no, he doesn’t.

9.05: Dean... is basically a dog. He bonds with the Colonel a bit, even identifies with the dog while he’s under the spell, but all that good will that built up between them effectively shatters again with the ominous last words he gets before the spell wears off and the knowledge that dogs were not created to be man’s best friend, but had some other-- and in this context seemingly sinister-- purpose.

And then we have every other ep that deals with Hellhounds, Dean’s failure to kill one leading to Sam taking on the trials instead of him, tied up in their mutual discussion of what they see as their respective futures-- Sam wants to live, and he wants Dean to live, too, instead of Dean constantly running toward death and self-sacrifice. So like, these themes are all tied up together, and makes all the dog stuff incredibly not fun when it comes to Dean specifically.

So when Dean does lose Cas-- and everyone else on the planet-- the dog being the ONE living being they’ve found, Dean picking her up and putting her in “Cas’s place” in the car, only to have Chuck snap her away like she was a manipulative trick the entire time? Not even really real, just one more thing to give Dean a tiny bit of hope only to maliciously snatch it away again?

And then for the SINGLE thing Dean asked for from Chuck being to bring Cas back?

And then he doesn’t get Cas back, but apparently kidnaps this random dog instead?

It’s just... indescribably weird to me, and so entirely out of character and insulting to Cas on top of it all. Like this was the only happiness Dean was allowed after saving the universe. No found extended family, no life outside of Sam and hunting, no dream of retiring and finding a beach to sink his toes in the sand for a little while. He just gets a dog, which he canonically doesn’t like and has a lot of issues with for entirely understandable reasons. So like.. .how is this cute or happy or nice?

[irrlicht-writes]

the path we choose to walk on Pt.2

Part 2 of my Fix-It! Do note that this is NOT THE END. There will be at least one more part (god hope please) @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @insertdeeplyrics @cass-said-i-love-you ALSO SOMEONE WANNA JOIN MY TAG LIST STILL 

READ PART ONE FIRST HERE

Ao3

PART 2: a barn in which we meet

Sam is ecstatic. Eileen just revealed to him that she’s pregnant. Dean has been waiting to see Sam’s reaction and he couldn’t be happier. He’s moved out of their place a month ago and is now living in a rather crappy apartment but he’s always over at their house anyway.

I’m gonna be an uncle, Cas.

It feels weird but Sam is so happy. Sam hugs him and Dean makes sure to tell him that he’s gonna be a great Dad. Of course, Dean is going to be a greater Uncle, no two questions about it. Eileen laughs at them and it feels good to have a family. Miracle barks and Dean laughs to include the dog in the hug.

Cas would be proud of him. Dean has a job. It’s not a great job, but it’s a job outside the life. In time, he’ll make friends, too.

 “He kissed you?” Sam asks three months later and Dean nods.

“What was it like?”

Dean shakes his head. He doesn’t know. David had been flirting with him for about two months now and Dean wants to explore this side of him, it’s just – it’s just difficult. He feels as if he’s done a disservice to Cas.

“It wasn’t Cas,” he says and Sam nods.

“I know, Dean, but – Cas is gone. Don’t you think he’d want you to be happy?”

Of course Cas would want that. Cas would want Dean to get a partner. Cas would want someone in Dean’s life that would do everything the angel had never been able to do – but it still feels wrong. It’s not Cas. Maybe that will be the fault with everyone: they will never be Cas.

“Go on a date with him,” Sam says, “just to see what it’s like. If you don’t like it, then stop it, yeah? But give him a chance, at least. He’s not a creeper, right?”

No, David is nice. Under different circumstances, Dean might’ve even liked him.

“We’ll see,” Dean replies and they both know that nothing will come of it.

It’s not Cas.

 Eileen was eight months pregnant when Sam found a case. “Something’s killing monsters,” he says.

Normally, Dean wouldn’t be too concerned with this – monsters could kill other monsters for all he cared but this – whatever it was, it killed too many too quickly. It would make whole nests mad and then they’d beseech the town.

Dean doesn’t want Sam to go, not so shortly before the birth of his daughter but he can’t go alone, either. So they’re going to go together. If everything goes well, they don’t have to kill something. After all, whatever monster-killer is out there might not be aware of the impact of what they’re doing.

“Let’s go, then,” Dean says.

Eileen is upset about staying behind but she knows it’s better this way. “You look out for him,” she says to Dean and he laughs.

“With my life,” he promises.

 It feels good to take the Impala on a long stretch again. Miracle stayed behind with Eileen and it’s just him and his little brother on the road. It almost feels like the old times. They were rushing in to save the day, heroes once more.

Cas would be proud of them.

“Know anything about that monster-killer?”

“No,” Sam says. “But get this: all the killings happen in the same place, suggesting that it’s not moving around. In fact, it might even be that the other monsters seek it out for whatever reason so maybe it’s acting in self-defense?”

Dean just nods. That might be possible.

A long time ago, he believed that all monsters were evil. But he’d been wrong. They were also just trying to survive. If they were good, they got to live. And if they were bad, they got dead. If one would look at it from this angle, it wouldn’t be that complicated at all.

 It doesn’t take long to arrive at the scene. No humans have come to harm as of yet, so there’s no need to identify as the FBI again. They could just get in and get out.

“We don’t know what we’re dealing with,” Sam warns him and Dean nods. He’s not suicidal. He has his gun and he also has his angel blade. He’d be fine. Castiel’s coat is in the trunk. Dean took it with him wherever he went. He would never be too old for a comfort blanket.

It’s a barn. Somehow, Dean was expecting this. He looks around. There are no monsters than he can hear so he hopes that they’ve come at a good time. The trees though – they look odd. They are all bended outwards as if a bomb had dropped.

“Where are the bodies?”

“Maybe whoever is killing them gets rid of them after?”

Sam shrugs, and Dean mimics him. It doesn’t really matter, either.

“Stay behind me,” Dean says and Sam scoffs. He steps up next to Dean and looks at him.

“Together,” he says and Dean smiles.

 They don’t get attacked when they enter. Maybe they’re not a threat to that thing. The barn has numerous holes in the ceiling so at least a little light is shining through. They cautiously walk further in. Dean is expecting an attack any second and the longer time goes on, the more anxious he gets. He just doesn’t want the monster to jump out of the dark and attack Sam. What would he tell Eileen? Dean is still crap at Sign Language.

There is a loud, and yet muffled sound and Dean points his gun at it. He looks over to Sam who just nods and Dean takes the lead. There. He can see it, nestled against the wall. It’s a blob that looks vaguely human-shaped. Its hand is outstretched but the arm is shaking and the thing looks like it’s covered in goo.

Dean lowers his gun. Whatever it is, it’s afraid. Sam steps up next to him, also putting his gun away.

“Hey,” Sam starts in a soft tone and the thing flinches, “we’re not here to hurt you.”

The hand stays outstretched for a moment but then the arm gets lowered. The poor thing is shaking.

“My name is Sam,” the thing moves a little, “and I’m here with my brother Dean.”

There is a low keening noise and Dean doesn’t know what to make of it.

“We want to help you, if we can.”

The thing falls forward on all fours and drags itself closer to them. Whatever the goo is, it clings tightly to the body and Dean feels sorry for whatever’s underneath. The thing has to stop every few inches, clearly exhausted. Dean feels for whatever it is. It starts punching its hand into the ground and Dean realises that it’s writing something down.

Where, it says.

“You’re in Kansas,” he replies and the thing turns in his direction. It shakes and Dean thinks it’s just about to collapse. How long has it been here, weighed down by this goo? How long has it waited for someone like Sam and Dean to show up?

“Hey,” he says a little softer. “We’re going to get that stuff off of you and then we can talk, like civilised people, yeah?”

The thing’s head droops a little and Dean finds it very endearing. It looks almost like a head tilt. “Okay, so,” he starts but then there are noises outside. Dean realises instantly that more monsters have come.

“Sammy,” he hisses but Sam is already in position. Dean stays close to Goo who’s heaving a little. Dean doesn’t understand why he wants to protect Goo but he finds he simply has to.

Seven guys trot in and Dean guesses that they might be Vampires. Damn, he’s packed the wrong bullets. Still, shooting them would slow them down for a moment so that he could stab them with the knife. It’s easy to slip back into the Killer Dean Winchester and he hates it. What would Cas have to say about all this?

“Ah, the Winchesters! I had believed you had retired. So sad to see I was wrong. But no worry – me and my friends will gladly help you along!”

Damn he hates vampires. They just fucking suck.

“Oh yeah? So how about you eat... this...”

They just exploded. In front of his eyes, they just exploded in a flash of light and Dean looks down at Goo. His hand his outstretched, just like before and something coils in Dean’s stomach. It couldn’t be. No, that’s just ridiculous.

Sam’s looking over at them too but Dean pays him no mind because – because Goo just slumps to the ground and Dean’s heart sinks. No. No no no no no no. Please don’t. He drops his gun and falls to the floor, grabbing Goo and lifting him up. He doesn’t care that he gets the ugly sticky stuff all over himself.

“Cas,” he whispers but Goo doesn’t reply. “Please, please. Cas, please.”

  With Sam’s help, they get Goo into the car. In the back of his head, Dean isn’t looking forward to having to clean Baby from this stuff but he doesn’t really mind. If this is Cas – it has to be, it has to be – he doesn’t care at all. He slides in the backseat and Sam drives towards the nearest motel. Dean shrugs off his jacket and puts it around Goo’s shoulders, hoping to at least fool the majority of people into thinking that this was just another normal person. And if they didn’t – well they are very welcome to lick his boots.

Sam walks into the reception area of this Motel 5 and Dean tries to wake up Goo again but he’s still out like a light.

“Cas,” he says. “Cas, I’ve missed you so much. Please. Please, be real.”

His voice doesn’t sound like his own.

 Together, they drag Goo into their room. Without stopping, they immediately continue on into the bathroom. There’s no tub, sadly – Sam had inquired – so the shower would have to do. They shove Goo inside and turn the warm water on. Dean doesn’t want to use cold water. Cas doesn’t deserve cold water.

“It doesn’t come off,” Dean says and Sam clenches his jaw. Why isn’t it coming off? Dean’s breath starts to pick up until Sam puts his hand on his shoulder.

“Breathe,” he reminds his brother and so Dean takes a deep breath. He nods and Sam turns the water off. The get Goo back out of the shower and haul him into the main room. They lay him upon a bed and Dean sits next to him. Sam gets on his phone, presumably to call Eileen and let her know what’s up.

“Cas,” Dean says quietly. “Please. If it’s you, then please – please give me a sign.”

There is nothing and Dean loses hope. But then he sees a small light flicker in the middle of Goo and Dean’s desperate enough to take it.

“Cas,” he says again and puts his hand on Goo’s face. “I’m here, baby. Tell me how to help you. Please. I need you back, Cas. I can’t – I’ve tried. Cas, I’ve tried to do it without you and I’m fine, y’know but it’s not – it’s not enough, y’know?

There’s this guy. David. He’s nice, yeah? He kissed me a few months ago and – I don’t know. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t – it wasn’t you. But I wanted to try. You’d want me to be happy, to find a partner that’ll love me and – I wanted to try. So I asked him out, Cas. He’s a nice guy. He makes jokes and he likes Baby and he likes Pizza and he even indulges me on my cowboy fetish. Remember when I made you wear that hat? Those were good times, Cas. Anyway, I – we, we had, uh... we had sex. It was just one time, but well, it – I don’t know. It wasn’t bad, I think – I don’t really know, I’ve never done it before, but – it was alright. It was just okay and I’ve told him as much and he looked at me and said you’re still in love with someone else and fuck, Cas, he’s right. I tried to use David as this filler, to try and get over you before I was ready and I –

Fuck, Cas. I love you. I can’t get over you; how do I even start? I think about you every day. Did you hear my prayers? I’ve never stopped. I thought, that maybe, if I pray enough, that you’d hear me someday.”

Dean leans forward and presses his forehead against Goo. It feels gross, but this is Cas.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough last time. I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to bring you back. You deserve more than me and I’ll never understand why your dumb ass fell in love with me. Jack became God, y’know? You were right about him. I’m just – I’m so sad you’ll never get to experience the world now. You should’ve gotten the chance to say good-bye to him and I... I...

Cas, please. Come back to me.

I – I know I can live without you. It’ll be empty and cold and sad, but I could. The point is, Cas, I don’t want to. I don’t want to live somewhere where you do not. Even if we can’t go back to the way things were, I need to know – I need to know that you’re alive.

What’s Heaven without its best angel?

What’s the Righteous Man without his saviour?

...

Cas, please. I don’t... I don’t have any other words.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I want to tell you.

I want to hold your hand and I want to kiss your hair and I want to be gross with you and I...

I just want you.

I just...

Please. Cas. Please...”

His throat hurts, and he cries.

*

At night, Dean lies next to Goo. He’s holding Goo’s hand as much as he can and he sleeps. He’s never got to sleep in the same bed as Cas before. He wishes that they would’ve had more opportunities before but it was too late now.

I’ll watch over you.

Dean wishes he could’ve watched over Castiel at least one time.

 Dean wakes by someone shaking him rapidly. He doesn’t want to wake up. Miracle can walk herself. He’s dreaming about Cas walking in a field. He doesn’t want to leave the dream. But the shaking doesn’t stop. So he rolls on his back and blinks angrily at whoever woke him. Sam.

Of course it’s fucking Sam.

“Dean,” he breathes and he there’s this look in his eyes. He’s looking next to Dean and so Dean turns his head and –

“Cas,” he whispers.

Goo is gone and all that’s left is Cas.

Dean cries.

He can’t stop. He doesn’t even try.

 Cas doesn’t really respond to anything when he wakes up. But Dean doesn’t care. Cas is here. Cas is alive. He’s slapped himself several times just to make sure that he was really awake. It’s hard to pry Dean away from Cas even just for a minute.

Sam is worried that Cas is so unresponsive to anything and on some level, Dean is too, but at the moment, he doesn’t care.

“Cas,” is the only thing Dean is really capable of saying and every time he does, he feels like Cas’ eyes snap in his direction at least a little. That’s good, right? That’s some sort of response and that’s good. They’ll figure it out. They always do. Team Free Will was together again and they could tackle everything.

One day after Goo turned into Cas, they made the drive back home. Dean lets Sam drive so that he can stay in the backseat with Cas. It feels so good to have his angel leaning against him. Dean had detested it, but they’ve done a test: they’ve cut Cas with the angel blade and there had been grace shimmering beneath the surface.

On the way home, Dean murmurs to Cas constantly and he wants to believe that the angel can understand him. And even if he can’t – he just wants to talk to Cas. He can’t even count the days since he’s last been so happy.

“I love you,” he whispers again and again and maybe, just maybe, Cas moves his head every time he says it.

 They decide that Cas would stay at Dean’s apartment. Sam had been debating if Cas shouldn’t maybe stay with him and Eileen – after all they had a whole house. But they’d be having a baby pretty soon. Dean was able to devote himself to Cas entirely. And most importantly, Dean doesn’t want to stay away from Cas for any amount of time. He’s utterly convinced that Cas reacted to his voice in the car. Yes, maybe it had been just a coincidence but Dean needs to believe that there is more to it. Cas loves him. He loves Cas.

“Just be careful, Dean,” Sam had said while Dean clutched Cas to his chest. “If anything happens, call me.”

Dean had nodded and ascended the stairs.

Castiel is lying on his couch for most of the day. Dean wants to believe that Cas watches him. He enjoys this – being watched by Cas. It had been too long. He couldn’t stop smiling because he’s happy.

Cas is alive. Cas is here.

It’s like a dream come true.

At night, Cas lies in bed next to him and Dean presses soft kisses against his temple. He doesn’t dare do more and he’s content like this. He holds Castiel’s hand the entire night and if he wishes hard enough he can imagine that Castiel squeezes his hand back.

 “Dean,” Castiel says and Dean cries.

Castiel doesn’t speak again but Dean can’t stop crying.

 “Sam just called,” Dean informs Cas who is lying on the couch. Cas’ eyes flicker to him, half-understanding. “Eileen just went into labour. I wanna go there, Cas, I wanna meet my niece. Do you... do you want to come?”

He’s not expecting a response. He always wants one, but he never expects it.

“I,” Castiel says and his voice is terribly hoarse but Dean drops the phone nonetheless.

“Want,” Castiel keeps on saying before he hacks up an ugly cough. Dean cries and rushes over to him.

Cas looks at him with tired eyes, but he sees him, he looks at him, he’s here –

“Anything you want, baby,” Dean whispers. “Anything you want.”

 The nurses tell Dean that Sam and Eileen are inside but that he’s not allowed to go in. They were nice enough to give him a wheelchair for Cas – as much as Dean loves to pretend he’s a strong macho man, Cas is still six feet tall and really fucking heavy.

“They’re just inside there,” Dean says to Cas who’s looking at the floor. “Sam’s gonna be a dad.”

He can scarcely believe it himself. Sammy’s going to be a dad.

“Father,” Castiel says and Dean smiles. This is good. This is so good. Castiel can hear him and he can even respond.

“I’m so proud of you, Cas.”

Castiel looks at him with his big, blue, unblinking eyes. He frowns. Fuck, Dean had missed him so much.

“Jack,” he says and tries to look around.

“He’s God now, Cas. It’s like you always said – he’s destined for great things.”

Cas looks a bit upset.

“Goodbye,” he rasps and his eyes become frantic. “Where,” he says and starts coughing.

Oh god, no no no no. Cas is coughing up the same black goo he had been covered with.

“Cas, Cas, baby, please,” Dean whines.

Cas’ whole body shakes and Dean can tell that he’s trying to reign the coughs in. His good, pure, strong angel. Cas looks up at Dean, heaving heavily with tears in his eyes.

Dean presses kisses on his face – his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, his chin.

“So good. You’re so good. We’ll fix this. I promise. We’ll fix this, together. I’m not letting you go. I’m never letting you go again, Cas.”

“Dean,” Cas says quietly and slumps against him. Dean can feel him breathing and he wraps his arms around him.

“I love you,” Dean says and Cas presses his forehead against Dean’s neck.

*

It takes ten hours, but then Dean officially becomes an uncle. Castiel had been asleep for a good amount of time, but at least he hasn’t coughed again. Of course, Dean is a bit worried about the sleeping but he’ll figure that out. All that matters is that he’s got Cas by his side and that he’s now got a little baby girl to spoil.

Once he gets the clear, he rolls Cas into the room and Sam and Eileen both look tired but also so, so happy. They light up even more when they see Cas.

“Cas,” Sam says and smiles at him. Cas looks up at Sam and blinks slowly.

“Sam,” he replies hoarsely.

Sam looks to Dean in utter disbelief and Dean can just smile. “Show us the baby, yeah?”

Eileen moves the blanket aside a bit so that they can take a look at the little bundle of joy. Her face is all scrunched up and she’s just adorable.

“Sammy, are you sure she’s really your daughter?”

Sam shoves him playfully. “You’re such a dick.”

“Baby,” Cas says and Eileen smiles at him.

“Do you want to hold her?”

It doesn’t seem like Cas understands at first, but then he nods. He raises his arms and Eileen places her daughter in them without a second thought. Both Sam and Dean are ready to interfere in case Cas’ arms would not be steady enough to hold the baby but it turns out they needn’t have worried.

“Hello,” Cas says to the child who wiggles a bit in his arms.

“Her name’s Maria,” Sam supplies and Castiel slowly nods.

“Maria,” he says. He slowly puts a finger on her tiny nose. His finger glows and Dean worries. What’s going on?

Cas looks at Eileen but he doesn’t move to give the baby back. Eileen just looks at him, then she slowly nods and smiles. She signs something and Cas turns his head to Sam.

“Fix,” he says. “Heart.”

“She... she has a heart problem?”

Castiel shakes his head. “Not... not anymore. I. I fix. I. Take. I...,” he closes his eyes in strain. “It’s gone now. They. Would. They would not have. Noticed. It’s small. But I. I took it.” His voice sounds like it pains him greatly. He slumps in his chair a bit but holds Maria tight.

“Dean,” he says and Dean’s by his side in a flash. “I want. I want to see Jack.”

 *

 When they are back at home, Dean prays to Jack. Cas fell asleep in the car as soon as they started driving back home and he hasn’t woken up since. But he also hasn’t coughed again which is probably a good sign.

“Hey, Jack,” Dean says, looking out the window. He’s put Cas into bed and is sitting next to him. The soft breathing behind him calms Dean and he wouldn’t move away from it for the world.

“I don’t know if you noticed, but we got Cas back. I don’t know how, if you were involved or not and if you can even hear me, but – he’s back, Jack. Cas is back.”

It still sounds like a dream.

“And he – Jack, he wants to see you. He didn’t get to say good-bye, y’know? He really misses you and, Jack, he’s – he’s sick or something. We found him covered in some black goo – you know, it kinda looked the Empty Goo thing, but I don’t – the goo is gone now, but he’s weak and he was coughing that stuff up earlier today and – I just... Jack, please come here. Fix him? He deserves it, yeah? So... just please, when you have a moment off from being God, could you... just pop in?”

Dean isn’t expecting Jack to instantly appear in the room, but – he somehow is. He sighs and turns around to Castiel fully. He’s sleeping peacefully and Dean smiles. He takes Cas’ hand and softly strokes the skin.

Miracle miracles herself into the bedroom and sniffs at Cas extensively. Cas doesn’t react to her but Dean smiles at the dog. He isn’t even sure if Cas knows that there’s a dog here. Miracle clearly doesn’t know what to make of the strange new man yet and Dean can’t blame her.

“I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you, girl,” he says and Miracle huffs. She looks at him expectantly. Dean laughs.

“But this is Cas, yeah? They guy I told you about. The guy that died? I’m sorry, girl. I’ll make it up to you when he’s better. And he’s getting better, he just needs a little more time, yeah? So... how about you help? If we both shower him with love, then he’ll get back on his feet even quicker, yeah? And then all three of us can go on a walk together.”

At the word “walk”, Miracle perked up and started wagging her tail. She then proceeds to climb up on the bed and snuggle up to Cas as if she had actually understood Dean. And he has a pretty good feeling that she actually had. Dean laughed and lays down himself, intertwining his fingers with Cas. His niece had just been born, Cas had been incredibly responsive today and everything would work out.

They just need a little more time.

A little more time, and then all of them could sit a table together, enjoying a family dinner.

[fics-of-culture]

4 Ways To Show Someone You Love Them 5/5 *Complete*

Summary:  Gabriel, Lucifer, Balthazar, and Cas all consider themselves fairly adept when it comes to the art of romance. They all have their own unique approach when it comes to wooing someone. And, unfortunately for you, all four of your beloved angels seem to have their sights set on you.

Words: 1,771

A/N: I am reposting all of my old fics because my old account accidentally got deleted.

Part 5: Epilogue

Sam and Dean were halfway to committing angel genocide. You had been gone for a week on a hunt without telling anyone where you were headed or how long you’d be away. As a result, all four of your ‘winged dicks’ as Dean called them, were hanging around the bunker 24/7 waiting for your return. It wasn’t very noticeable at first. Dean has been sitting in the kitchen, drinking a beer when Cas showed up suddenly. Dean was unfazed by his sudden appearance, having grown accustomed to angels poofing in and out of the bunker as they pleased. Castiel looked around the room as he asked where you were.

“Hunt.” Dean replied dismissively, continuing to drink his beer.

“Do you know where? I need to speak with Y/N. It is urgent.” Dean looked up at Cas, concerned about why Castiel needed to speak to you so urgently.

“Didn’t say. What’s the matter, Cas. Y/N in trouble or somethin’?” Castiel shifted nervously on his feet, not wanting to tell Dean what he needed to talk to you.

“No. Y/N’s not in any trouble as far as I am aware.” With that, Castiel turned and walked out of the room. Dean was left sitting there in confusion at the odd conversation. As Castiel stepped out of the kitchen, he headed towards the library, contenting himself to wait in the bunker until your return.

~~~~~~~~

The boys only had to wait a few days more for their next angelic headache to show up. Sam had been rinsing his hair in the shower when he realized he could no longer feel the water washing over his body. When he opened his eyes he realized that instead of standing in his shower, he was standing buck naked in his room. And standing before him was the infamous trickster himself.

“Dude, what the hell?” Sam shouted, attempting to cover his junk with his hands.

“Oh relax, Sammy. I’m not trying to sneak a peak.” Gabriel snaps his fingers and a towel appears in his hand. “I’m looking for Y/N.” Sam let out an irritated sigh as he took towel Gabriel offered him.

“Y/N went on a hunt.” Sam explained as he covered himself with the towel. “Surely you could’ve waited until I was done showering to ask me that.” Sam frowned as he ran his fingers through his still damp hair, noting the shampoo that hadn’t been fully washed out.

“Could’ve. But didn’t.” Gabriel had a smirk on his face, but Sam could still see a ticker of disappointment in Gabe’s eyes when he mentioned that you were gone.

“What do you need Y/N for anyway?” Instead of responding, Gabe raised his hand and snapped Sam back into his shower. Gabe let out a sigh as he left Sam’s room. He had no interest in explaining himself to tweedle dee when it came to you. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Gabe decided to head to the kitchen. Might as well grab some snacks as he waited for you to arrive.

~~~~~~

Dean was working on baby when Lucifer zapped in.

“Hey moron,” Dean let out a groan of frustration when he was pulled out from under the car by none other than the devil. He was getting really sick of constantly being bothered by the angels you called friends. “Where’s my human?” Lucifer was blunt and too the point. But Dean didn’t like the way he referred to you as ‘his’.

“First off, Y/N does not belong to you, and second, if you’re looking for Y/N you’ll have to get in line.” Lucifer scoffed as he considered Dean’s words. His brothers had been seeking you out as well. That... would not do.

“So my human isn’t here?” Dean sighed, knowing his words weren’t gonna get through to the devil any time soon.

“No. Went on a hunt.” Dean didn’t even bother with full sentences at this point, considering how many times he had to repeat the information to your impatient angels. “Can I get back to what I was doing now?” Dean gestures to baby.

“I suppose so. Since you seem to have no useful information anyway.” With that, Lucifer disappeared.

~~~~~~

By the time Balthazar appeared, the Winchester’s knew something was up. Sam and Dean had been researching possible hunts in the war room when he showed up. Before he could even open his mouth, Dean cut him off.

“Not here.” Sam chuckled a bit at Dean’s dry response.

“I see.” Balthazar looked around the room, thinking. “And I suppose I’m not the first one to inquire as to Y/Ns whereabouts?”

“Dude, not even close.” Sam answered.

“Yeah, your brothers have been harassing us for the past week. I’m five seconds away from cutting myself open and banishing all your asses.” Dean looked exasperated as he spoke.

“Well then, I suppose I ought to wait elsewhere for Y/N’s return.”

“Yeah, I’d say so.” Sam said. With that, Balthazar sauntered out of the war room. Sam and Dean looked at each other and sighed in unison. You needed to get back, NOW.

~~~~~

You let out a relaxed sigh as you stepped out of your truck. You’d enjoyed your time away, but you were happy to be back home. Your guilt flared up as you stepped through the door into the bunker. You hadn’t actually gone on a hunt like the Winchester’s had thought. You’d kinda sorta went on a little vacation. In your defense, cases had been far and few in-between lately and you deserved a break every once in a while. You figured that if something came up while you were gone, the brothers would be more than capable of taking care of it. And you had decided not to tell anyone to avoid any unwanted angels coming along with you. As much as you adored your angels, you needed a break from them sometimes. Your guilt grows as you walk into the library to see a very frazzled Sam and Dean.

“Oh thank god.” Dean pulled you into a bear hug, looking incredibly relieved that you were home. “Where have you been?” Dean pulls back to look you in the eye. You’re surprised by how distressed he looked.

“Dean? What happened? You look stressed.”

“Those asshats happened! That’s what!” Sam put his hand on Dean’s shoulder in an attempt to get him to cool off.

“What he means to say is that, while you were gone, your angel friends have been making things difficult for us.” Sam shoots you a sympathetic smile when he sees your crestfallen look. Dean, however, marches on.

“Yeah, they’ve been here day in and day out for the past two weeks making life hell. Between the constant pranks and nonstop bickering, we haven’t been able to get anything done.” You feel awful all of a sudden. You had no idea going on a little trip would take such a toll on the Winchesters. You’re also incredibly upset at your angels for acting like this. You leave for two weeks and the bunker is thrown into chaos.

“Alright,” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “I’ll sort this out. Where are they?”

“Your room.”

~~~~~~

You sigh as you head up to your room, all the relaxation from before completely drained by the stress of dealing with four angelic children. As you near your room, you start to hear the bickering that the boys had mentioned before.

“As if Y/N could ever fall for you.” You slow to a standstill as you hear this. It sounded like Lucifer but you weren’t sure who he was talking to.

“Oh yes, I’m sure Y/N much prefers you following her around like a lost puppy whilst acting like you couldn’t care less about them.” Ah, Balthazar. Well that explains that mystery. You hear a chuckle from somewhere else in your room. “I don’t see why you’re laughing.” Balthazar continues. “You’re just as bad when it comes to constantly being up Y/N’s ass 24/7.

“Oh right.” You identify Gabe’s voice this time. You note the rising irritation in all of their voices as the discussion continues. “Maybe I should just go around talking to them in a language no one here actually SPEAKS, because you’re to much of a coward to say how you feel in English.” Before Balthazar can respond, a gravely voice speaks up.

“This conversation is pointless.” Cas points out. You feel relieved that one of them is finally being objective about the situation. “Besides, it is my belief that I share a more profound bond with Y/N than anyone else here does.” So much for objectivity, you think idly.

“If Y/N needs someone I braid their hair, I’m sure you’ll be the first they call.” Lucifer states dryly. “But I find it incredibly hard to believe Y/N would choose someone so pathetic.”

“Watch who you’re calling pathetic there, baby bro.” Gabe starts up again. “Cassy here might be a wet blanket.” You hear a quiet ‘hey!’ In the background as Gabriel speaks. “But he ain’t the one who threw a celestial bitch fit in heaven when daddy didn’t give him what he wanted.”

“I’m sorry, where were you when that happened?” Lucifer’s voice was steeped in anger now. “Oh right, you were busy running your ass away from heaven. And speaking of angels who ran away...” Lucifer’s voice is drowned out by Balthazar’s protests. Everyone was shouting over each other at this point. You knew you needed to intervene at this point, but for a moment you just felt frozen. Your angels, were all in love with you. That much was clear from what you’d overheard. Everything was suddenly much clearer to you now. All of your friends’ odd behavior as of late had been their attempts to woo you. You felt foolish for not realizing this until now. You wondered if any of them had been very successful in their attempts. Of course, there was one angel who had managed to completely sweep you off of your feet even before all this began. And now you knew without a shadow of a doubt that he loved you as much as you loved him. You shake off these thoughts and go to open the door to your room.

The room falls silent as all four angels turn to see you standing in the doorway. Each one of them, Lucifer included, at least had to decency to look embarrassed that you’d overheard their argument.

“I think,” You look over to angel. The one you love with all your heart. And your heart pangs as he smiles softly at you. “We need to have a talk.”

[you-cant-spell-subtext-without]

I know we are all discussing the latest episode of Season 16, but I need to wrap up 11 for my own sanity (because there is a LOT to discuss in my Season 12 rewatch already), so without further ado - more rambling for you.

I’m not going to include 11x20: Don’t Call Me Shurley because I think I’d like to do an entire Chuck - arc - series.  Rob Benedict is a gift; that dad mug kills; and I love that the fan theories about Chuck spinning around this fandom for years turned out to be correct after all (WEIRD HOW THAT HAPPENS WITH CHARACTERS EH).  Moving on.

As you will recall, two recaps and many many many crackhead other posts from my corner of super hell ago, I ended the 11x18 recap with this image of Amara realizing...”something” after Dean said Cas’s name (just before she took Casifer with her), Dean/Amara unbreakable connection be damned. Speaking of unbreakable connection this post is partially the AMARA DISSERTATION.  Buckle up.

FF to 11x21: All in the Family; the boys are shooting the shit with Chuck and in the meantime, Amara is torturing Casifer.  Important to note that just recently the actual Cas was enlightened that Dean wants him to cast Lucifer out, so I presume he is a little more active at this point, and that strengthens the following hypothesis.  Look how Amara is looking at Casifer here:

And here, right before she touches him on the chest.

It’s the same look she gave Dean. She’s trying to decipher something; trying to figure something out. 

She appears to Dean in the VERY next scene, to show him how she is torturing Casifer.  But the real point is, of course, to show him how its affecting the physical form of Cas, reminding him its not just Lucifer who is suffering.  It works.  

DEAN 

Amara is – she's in my head. [Sam looks at him sharply] Hey, I didn't ask for it, okay? She just showed up. But she's showing me visions of – of Lucifer. By Lucifer, I mean Cas, and he looks like crap – like she's really doing a number on him.

***Note, yet again, despite the *connection* Amara/Dean supposedly share, all he can think about and talk about is Cas.

And Amara knows it.  That’s the realization she has in 11x18.  Dean loves Cas.  Then, in 11x21 she realizes Cas loves Dean.  So, she uses it to her own ends.  Smart girl.  

Enter Donatello (I love him), prophet of (not) the Lord.  He, Metatron, and Sam set out to rescue Casifer while Dean distracts Amara.  If we start with the presumption she now has the prior additional insight, the following snippets of dialogue hit a little different.

AMARA

This place, this world hasn't been especially easy for you. Why not at least consider my offer?

*********

DEAN

You're right. I am drawn to you. And it bothers the hell out of me, 'cause I can't control it.

AMARA

Then why fight it? What you're feeling is that I am the end of your struggle. 

***AHEM, this was not the FACE CUPPING I requested.

What keeps Dean from having it all?  What is his struggle?  It’s not the monsters or the hunting.  Dean’s repeatedly shown he loves this life; he doesn't want anything else (and the one time he did try it in Season 6, it was half-ass at best, and he left the minute Sam returned to go back to hunting).  Dean’s KEY struggle in the show is internal.  He represses his feelings, pushes his pain aside, resulting in a cycle of self-loathing and anger.  That cycle keeps him from having it all - accepting he can be loved, allowing himself to give his heart to someone else.  And at this point, Amara not only knows that someone else is Cas, she knows that Cas feels the same way.  Girl, welcome to super hell.  Take a damn seat by Sam.

11x22: We Happy Few

I’ll skim through this one so this post doesn’t completely make your eyes bleed due to the sheer length.  

The splicing with the scenes of everyone assembling different factions to form the new “line-up” needed to trap Amara is excellent. I’ve already done a short post on the brilliance of Dean heading to get Crowley and the ex-boyfriend mood of it all (Dean, of all people, telling Crowley to sober up gives me an ENTIRE head canon of the Crowley/demon!Dean unseen dynamic in Season 10).   And of COURSE Dean knows exactly what to say to convince Crowley to get on board. I also enjoy our future Sam-witch as the emissary to Rowena (���three’s a coven” would be a great tattoo, TBH).

BONUS:

I love her.

Big fight scene with Amara ensues, but this isn’t the finale so she cannot be beaten.  However, right before she mortally wounds Chuck, she does this:

[Yelling, LUCIFER charges her from behind again, but AMARA flings him hard against a support pillar across the room.]

AMARA

Goodbye, nephew.

[She banishes LUCIFER. CASTIEL slumps unconscious to the floor.]

DEAN: Cas! 

(He rushes AMARA, but she flings him away without effort.)

***She banishes Lucifer.  She could have just killed him.  Ended him entirely, and Cas along with him.  But she BANISHES LUCIFER.  Because of what she learned in the prior episode.  Because of the pain she saw in both of those idiots.

She does this for Dean.

Anyway, thank you Casifer FOR YOUR SERVICE.  I miss you already.

11x23: Alpha and Omega

There is nothing more precious than Dean sending his brother to check on GOD while he goes to check on his boyfriend:

DEAN: [Grunting]

Check on him.

SAM: [kneels next to Chuck]

Hey. Chuck?

[Dean kneels down next to Cas and puts a hand on his shoulder. Cas stirs and looks up at Dean]

CAS:

Dean.

DEAN:

Cas? Hey, is that you?

***All the heart eyes for the reunion!!

*********ALSO SHOULDERRRRRRRR

Chuck is dying, Rowena bonds with him.  Crowley is gold in this finale.  I MISS YOU MARK.  This line is NOT in the transcript/script I used, and it potentially being ad libbed makes it even better.

Dean decides to deal with the end of the world by drinking ONE beer, then deciding there is “not enough” beer and grabbing Cas for a beer (and....*feelings*) run.

DEAN:

You know what? This isn't gonna be enough. I better make a run.

[Sighs]

No reason to die sober, huh?

[to Sam]

You want to?

SAM: [frustrated] 

No!

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

DEAN:

Be right back.

SAM:

I'll stay here, find our Plan B.

DEAN:

Okay. Cas, come on.

Nothing makes me more pleased than the assumption that of COURSE Cas is coming with him.  I mean, he just got him back.  Also, Sam is frustrated because he is back in super hell, obvi ;)   

***Now we have the little “you’re our brother” bit in the Impala beer run dialogue, but to me it’s because Dean doesn’t know how else to express what he’s feeling.  Repression, people.  

The look of literal PAIN on Cas’s face at the “brother” line makes me cackle.  Misha Collins DESERVES AN EMMY; he is doing the Lord’s work with his Acting Choices here.

This little part before is what really gets me though, especially with all of the WORDS OF AFFIRMATION:

[Dean and Cas are driving in the Impala]

DEAN:

How you doing? You good?

I mean, you know, the whole Lucifer thing.

CAS:

I was just... so stupid.

DEAN:

No, no, no. It wasn't stupid.

You were right. You were right to let Lucifer ride shotgun.

Me and Sam wouldn't have done that.

CAS:

Well, it didn't work.

DEAN:

No, but it was our best shot, and you stepped up.

CAS:

I was just trying to help.

DEAN:

Well, and you do help, Cas.

***ITS JUST SO LOVELY.  Dean asking Cas how he is doing (what Cas always asks Dean); telling Cas he wasn’t stupid (throwback to Cas telling Dean he was stupid “for the right reasons”); acknowledging that Cas does HELP.  That he is important and appreciated.  THIS IS SUCH GROWTH.  I LOVE IT SO MUCH. Speak his love language, King.

Anyway, then Dean turns into a human bomb because martyr!dean gonna martyr and be “daddy’s (Chuck filling that role here) blunt little weapon” and we get -

THE DESTIEL GOODBYE. Tell me they didn’t actually go canon for the FIRST time here.  I will fight you.

LOOK at Cas watching him in the background. 

These fucking desolate eyes. I’m crying.

THEY JUST GOT EACH OTHER BACK -  

(I recognize this .gif is meh quality but I love that he turns and walks to him and Cas just GRABS him in this crushing hug)

DEAN [accepts the hug good-naturedly but then looks sad]

Okay, okay.

***”good naturedly??? ok Jensen “Acting Choices” Ackles. That is not “good nature” that is BLISS.

AND THEN THIS -

SOBS IN ENOCHIAN.

***I literally had to remind myself that the reunion hug is coming; it’s just an episode away.  I’ll make y’all feel better too; here it is - A PERFECT PARALLEL. Curse this show.

MORE OF THIS “GOOD NATURED” HUGGING PLEASE.

Anyways, back to depressing subtext.  

DEAN:

Okay, look. I want a big funeral.

All right? I'm talking epic.

Okay? Open bar, choir, Sabbath cover band, and Gary Busey reading the eulogy.

*****This scene lives in my mind rent-free as PROOF 15x20 doesn’t exist.

I can’t skip over further growth in Dean’s goodbye to Sammy.

***He’s being serious. Seasons 1-3 Dean would never have admitted this.  I was a blubbering mess at this point.

So, Dean heads to Amara, and the rest of the gang heads to the bar.

CROWLEY:

Your round, Moose.

***I would love an entire bottle episode of Crowley, Sam, Rowena, and Chuck at that bar TBH.

And then, Dean saves the day.  BUT NOT by dying and sacrificing himself, letting himself be used as a weapon of mass destruction.  No, he fixes the DAMN WORLD by connecting to Amara emotionally, and bringing her and Chuck back together, because he understands that not to be alone is what she really needs; that her own struggle is the same as his - letting in love instead of raging against it and fighting her own need for companionship.   Because that’s where ELDEST SIBLING AMARA AND Dean Winchester CONNECT.  Amara isn’t in love with Dean.  She identifies with Dean.  She sees her own feelings in him, her own pain, and that’s why she exorcises Lucifer and saves Cas - FOR Dean.  Amara’s just a Dean girl, everyone.   And we know Dean girls protect Cas at all costs.

Yup.  Amara Dean Girl Darkness Heller.  

That’s it.  That’s the dissertation.

See you in Season 12, where I will attempt to figure out the reason behind the British Men of Letters, killing Hitler, the brain melt that is Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox, the comedy of errors that is Cas playing Dean hot and cold, and the Mary Winchester of it all. 

[leroiloup]

「    this is a total, 100% “woe-is-me” negativity post, so be warned. I try not to post anything too personal or emotional on this blog, but the truth is, I need an outlet right now. I don’t have a personal tumblr anymore, and tbh, I don’t really want to put this on FB where all my IRL friends would see it. I’m putting this under a read more so y’all can scroll on by and not worry about it. But also, it’s here, so it ain’t a secret. If you want to watch a train wreck, read on.

» » » The moral of this story is going to be that for the next couple of days, I’m gonna be less present on the dash, and just tending to my drafts ( along with developing my OC more because he brings me joy rn ).

Wow, you clicked the Read More. Aren’t you a sick fuck ? Just kidding, you’re my kind of people. I hope your popcorn is ready. If are you continuing, I’d like to give you some disclaimers : literally none of the following is directed at any one individual or group of individuals. There is not an ounce of guilt that’s meant to be transferred. This is 100% my own bullshit as I’m dealing with me. I’m going to complain about RP, but please keep that in mind ; this is all about my own insecurities.

To start, everyone is dealing with a lot right now, let’s not have any delusions about that. Shit in general fucking blows. Personally speaking, I don’t like talking about my emotions or the things truly bothering me. I guarantee that if I ever whine about something, then there’s something much deeper that’s effecting me. As of right now, I’ve identified both : the surface issue that I’m taking my frustrations out on, and the deeper problems that’s the root of what’s going on.

So let’s start with the the deep shit, shall we ? This’ll give better insight as to why I’m struggling mentally with RP at the moment. I’m the kind of person IRL that’s a loner. I’m in my 30′s, but I’ve never had a serious relationship in my life. I don’t have a lot of friends ( but I do have a couple of really good ones ). I tend to just deal with shit on my own. I live alone, I take care of myself. And honestly, all of that is ok because there’s something magical that I have had : my career. I moved to the other side of the country at a young age by myself with one goal, and that was to edit film trailers. And goddamn it, in April 2019, I DID IT ! I mean, I’ve been in that industry since day 1, climbing the ladder, but last April, I was promoted to editor. It was the greatest feeling in the world. I still had a long way to go to prove myself, but I felt like my whole life was worth it for the place that I made it to. Well, this past March ( yes, just 2 weeks shy of my 1st year mark as an editor ) I was laid off due to COVID. Now, I’ve gotten a couple of odd editing jobs here and there, but I’m floundering. I suddenly can’t pay my bills, I can’t even buy proper groceries, but worst of all ? I just sit around all day. Alone. In my apartment. With no sense of direction or purpose. I feel like I lost a whole part of myself ; like I lost who I am as a human being. It’s this terrible, downward spiral of feeling like I don’t even exist anymore. Like who am I without the one thing I identified myself as ? Do I even matter anymore ? My friends are still working, but I’m.... not. I may not have been the pretty one, the witty one, the interesting one, or the loved one, but goddamnit, I was the independent one. I didn’t live a glamorous life, but I have a sweet apartment in a great area all by myself, and traveled, and treated myself to expensive clothing. I lived that Destiny Child’s Independent Woman life. And now ? It’s a big deal trying to decide if I can afford to buy cheese for my turkey sandwiches.

So let’s move this sob story onto the superficial, dumbass things that are bothering me. Like that’s real world shit right ? But I don’t like dwelling on real world problems. I handle it and move on. Yet my heart still hurts so I tend to focus on something less important as my excuse. Enter literally the only other thing I have going on rn RP. Man, I have the best writing partners and the best threads, let me tell you ! When I say I love my dash, I’m not just blowing smoke up y’all’s asses. I mean it. Sometimes I just sit and stare at my drafts in awe. But lately, my brain is frustrated. See, I’m not the Indie RP type. I can’t deal with a thousand different threads and interact with everyone, as much as I’d like to. My brain just doesn’t work that way. I prefer to live in my small corner and have a partner with whom our muses are deeply developed. Like full on universes with stories about different parts of their relationship’s timeline and with NPCs and fucking pinterest boards and shit. Y’all know what I’m talking about. A partner who tags me in shit because they see a post on their dash and it made them think of me. A partner who can just send my muse random asks about shit because they’re bored. A partner I can throw wild fangirly comments at in DMs at all hours of the day because something inspired me, or something made me think of our muses. You see, I had it once. On my Dean Winchester account, I met someone and our muses man... we didn’t plan that shit but they clicked and we were inseparable. It was so amazing. But I can’t write Dean anymore and even though I’m still very good friends with that mun IRL, they don’t write anymore. I feel like I’ve been chasing that high ever since, but it’s just gone.

Like, I just did that positivity night, right ? I really needed the boost and nothing helps like giving out compliments, and it worked. Believe me. I was so tickled by the responses and getting to force myself to think of wonderful things about my partners ( which is easy to do, lbr ). But a couple of people went above and beyond and sent it in as a request for someone else. God, how fucking cool ? But then my stupid brain takes over and reminds me that I don’t have a partner going out of their way like that for me. And god, what a selfish thing to think, right ? This is all good vibes, and I genuinely wanted to make other people smile, but I can’t help but have half my mind say “but what about me ?”. So lame. Especially since I never ask for help so who is even gonna know that need the pick me up ? Ugh. But I’m too chickenshit to ever send someone a meme to make them compliment me. Hell, I’m too chickenshit to like people’s posts when they ask for mains. A voice in my head is like “nah man, keep that shit for other, more qualified candidates. You have good threads, calm down.” But I dunno, sometimes I feel like I have a ton of threads, but that’s all they are ? The fillers ? Sure, it’s great writing, but it doesn’t go anywhere. It’s not meant to build anything for people, it’s just to give them something to do to pass the time while they’re building universes with their mains.

Could I be more selfish ? Like really. But that’s the thing : it’s my desolate feeling of complete lack of purpose in life bleeding into the one thing I’m trying to keep my mind distracted with. Do I hate RP ? No. Do I resent anyone on my dash ? Fuck no ! I love all of you and I’m incredibly grateful for anyone that interacts with me. But sometimes I see some magical friendships here and I just... I want that, man. I miss it. I want purpose again, in any facet of my life. I want to be excited again ; about ANYTHING. I’m tired of bobbing around like a cork on the sea of life. 

I wish I meant more.    」

[fanfic-corner]

Slow Burn

You ever want to read a fic that is probably as long (or longer) than a book series, but not have the main love interests kiss until chapter 300? Then you probably have some issues, but I'm not a therapist, so here we go.

Stand By Me by whelvenwings on AO3. (31,252 words).

Tags: Zombie Apocalypse AU, Post-Apocalypse, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, Slow Dancing, Smut, First Kiss, Canon-Typical Violence, Touch-Starved Dean, Love Confessions.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Dean Winchester has been alone for a long, long time. When he and Castiel happen to find each other - a couple of survivors in a world that’s been all but wiped clean - Dean’s looking for his brother; Castiel is looking for something to look for. They stick together, because neither of them much wants to be alone. They hate each other at first, of course. Dean hates Castiel for being weird and quiet and ironic and antagonistic and proud. Castiel hates Dean for being blunt and reckless and coarse, for drinking, for refusing to talk about how he feels and just pretending everything is fine. Most of all, they hate themselves and each other just for being alive. What right do they have to be alive? No one else seems to be. But against his own will, Dean starts to notice things about Castiel that he likes. Starts to hope that Castiel might like him, too. And together, they start to fight for a world where they're both alive - and that's a good thing.

Notes: One of the first fics I ever read, and one of my faves! The ending was slightly unsatisfying, but not so much that I would drop a star.

Angel's Wild by LimonadeGaby and riseofthefallenone on AO3. (389,271 words).

Tags: Alternate Universe, Wingfic, Hurt/Comfort, Wing Kink, Slow Build, Slow Burn.

My Rating: 5 stars. (If I could give it more, I would).

Description: But that’s the whole reason he’s here, isn’t it? He’s not out here hunting Humans. He’s not even hunting deer, or bears, or anything else that featured in Bambi. He’s out here, freezing his nuts off every night, because he’s hunting Angels. Sometimes Dean wishes that Angels were like how they’re described in the Bible. How people from time too old for him to care much about thought Angels were messengers and warriors of God, protectors of Humans. He knows that how they’re really described in the Bible is actually pretty terrifying, but at least they were told by God that they’re supposed to love Humans, right? That’s a thousand times better than what Angels really turned out to be.

Notes: I would be lying if I said I didn’t read all these slow burn fics just so I could rec this. I would also be lying if I said this wasn’t my favourite fic of all time. The pining is so intense it is practically unbearable to read. Honestly, I don’t care if you think it is too long or it isn’t really your thing; I would rec this to anyone with ears. I will still be reccing this in Hell. It is absolutely phenomenal.

a turn of the earth by mishcollin on AO3. (95,274 words).

Tags: Time Travel, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence, POV Dean Winchester, Alteration of s10 lore, Homophobic Language, Smut, Pining Dean, Preseries Dean, Mutual Pining.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Dean’s your typical half-orphaned, monster-killing 22-year-old until a trenchcoated stranger crashes into his back windshield one September night, claiming he’s an angel that knows him from the future and that he’s on the run. Frigging fantastic.

Notes: An absolutely excellent plot, which is excellently written, and is somehow simultaneously angsty and adorable.

Forget-Me-Not Blues by noangelsinthegarrison on AO3. (68,689 words).

Tags: Romantic Comedy, Firefighter Dean, Professor Castiel, Weddings, Misunderstandings, High School AU, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Sam and Jess are getting married and Dean couldn’t be any happier for them. Honestly, they’re kind of disgustingly perfect for each other and Dean’s pretty damn excited about staying with them the week before the wedding. He’s Sam’s best man, of course, and he doesn’t even mind that Jess has her own best man to share in all the organisational duties. The more the merrier, right?Except Dean must have done something to epically piss off the universe because Jess’s best man just happens to be Castiel friggin’ Novak. He’s got even hotter since High School, but apparently no friendlier and if Cas wants to spend the week pretending like they’ve never met before? Fine. Two can play at that game.

Notes: Jesus Christ, I have not read a single fic which sums up exactly how stupid Dean and Cas can be sometimes. I loved it.

the cost of a thing by quiettewandering on AO3. (74,198 words).

Tags: Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fake Marriage, Human Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Touch-Starved Castiel, Mutual Pining, Jealous Dean Winchester, Slow Burn, Depressed Castiel, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Sharing a Bed.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: 16 months ago, Cas became human.12 months ago, Cas left the bunker and a broken-hearted Dean behind. Now they must work a case together, where married couples are dying mysterious deaths and the only way to earn the neighbors' trust is by pretending to be married. Slowly, Dean finds that he loves being in a relationship with Cas, fake or not, and Cas finds his loneliness retreating, despite the harsh reality looming right around the corner. As Dean and Cas navigate this fake, but all too real, relationship, can they find the monster that is on a mysteriously motivated killing spree before it’s too late?

Notes: So cute! All the angst! My favourite trope! (So many exclamation marks!)

In All Your Borrowed Finery by vanishingact on AO3. (67,950 words).

Tags: Winged Dean Winchester, Winged Sam Winchester, Winged Castiel, Winged Gabriel, Spells & Enchantments, Hunters & Hunting, Case Fic, Harpies, Canon-Typical Violence, Major Character Injury, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Fluff and Humor and Smut and Angst, Wingfic, Fanart. My Rating: 5 stars. Description: Dean finds an interesting symbol in Kevin's angel tablet notes and, against Sam's counselling, uses it in the heat of battle with a pair of angelic assassins. Side effects include pain, disorientation, and uncontrollable new appendages for the Winchesters. A disgruntled Castiel and a delighted Gabriel show up to help. Hunting (and life) gets interesting when wings are involved.  Notes: Okay this was literally adorable and you can not convince me otherwise. Every time I read a fic with everyone’s favourite archangel, I miss him just a bit more. (This fic is slightly more Sabriel than Destiel, but only by a little).

In This Secluded Spot I Respond As I Wouldn't Elsewhere by RhymePhile on AO3. (33,953 words).

Tags: Modern Setting AU, Teenage AU, High Scool AU, Romance, Best Friends, First Love, First Kiss, Slow Build, Minor Violence, Bullying, Homophobia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Protective Dean Winchester, Texas, Slow Burn, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, No Sex, Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester are Raised Separately, Mary Winchester Lives, Artist Castiel, Nerd Castiel, Grieving Castiel, Jock Dean Winchester.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: It's 1995, and Castiel's high school years are destined to be difficult: home-schooled until eighth grade, he is awkward, shy, and socially inept. The weird kid with the funny name would rather isolate himself and draw in his sketchbook than deal with the constant bullying he faces every day. Things only get worse in his junior year when he excels in home economics class, leading the captain of the baseball team, Alastair, to start taunting him for being gay.Then new student Dean Winchester arrives at Flour Bluff High School, sharing many of Castiel's classes. Castiel has seen his type before -- handsome, athletic, arrogant, and sure to be the most popular kid in school. But Castiel eventually learns that he and Dean have more in common than he thought, and they form an unlikely friendship.

Notes: Pretty cute, and I did enjoy reading it. Not sure why like half the slow burn fics are set in a high school, but hey.

'Star Wars is Overrated' by leftdragonpainter on AO3. (38,186 words).

Tags: Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Pining, Drinking, Writer Castiel, Mechanic Dean, Neighbours, Swearing, Winchester Logic, Big Brother Gabriel, Clueless Dean, College Student Sam, Awkward Dates, Slow Burn, Injured Sam, Emotional Constipation, Angst, Confessions, Smut, Drunk Texting, Love Confessions, Temporary Amnesia, Angst and Humor.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: When Dean Winchester turned sixteen he was disappointed by the words that appeared on his chest. He never expected that it would take so much to find his soulmate. He never expected to not remember meeting them...

Notes: Every time I thought I knew what was gonna happen in this fic, something completely different happened. I think I have whiplash (but I love it!).

The Elysium High by EllenOfOz on AO3. (44,768 words).

Tags: Post-Apocalypse AU, Los Angeles, Dystopia AU, Angels are Dicks, Addict Sam Winchester, Recreational Drug Use, Witch Sam Winchester, Detective AU, Confused Castiel, Drugged Sex, Slow Burn, Cyborg Castiel.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: In the not-too-distant future, climate change has wreaked havoc on the city of Los Angeles. When sea levels rose, and the Los Angeles Basin began to flood regularly like many coastal areas around the world, the population of the city moved up, off the ground and into the scrapers. Many years later, the city is divided into three rough zones: the Topzone, where the very wealthy live in the sunlight; the Midzone, where those of the less-well-off population live amid the flying traffic, the smog and their coffee addictions; and the Groundzone, what's left at close to ground level—dim, grimy and occasionally very wet. Sam and Dean Winchester are drug investigators in the LAPD. During a bust, Dean is saved by Castiel, one of the mysterious Angels, the elite fighting unit of the LA City Council. When Castiel insists on taking Dean to Paradise because he says they have work for him, Dean has little choice but to go along. But when a new drug, “Elysium”, hits the scene, people all over the city start dying. The brothers and Castiel must work out where the drug is coming from and stop its spread before it's too late.

Notes: There was nothing wrong about this fic, it just wasn’t really my cup of tea. I found the fic that it reminded me of though; I Know A Place by whelvenwings. It is fairly similar, but in my opinion a tad better.

So there we go: slow burns! And if you’re thinking, ‘Lina, where are all the ridiculously long ones? I want them to have their first kiss 300 chapters in?’ just know that I do not have the patience or the time for that. Mostly the patience. Okay, maybe I avoided them because they make me want to smash my phone. Whatever. Another day, maybe.

[ifyoulovemeletmebinge]

We’re All Monsters

destiel au where everything in canon is used at the wrong time and oh also cas is a monster. 

for @beingforcedtolivebadwriting

RATED M 

read it on ao3 here:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Dean Winchester knows he hates monsters.

That’s one thing. It’s almost the first thing. In almost every situation.

Dean wakes up and all he can think of is how much he hates monsters.

Some of it comes from the fact that John is a shitty dad and that’s not because of him being a shitty dad. Dean can’t remember much at all from his life before the fire, but from what John tells him, they were The Perfect American Family. He knows that at least.

He also knows that because monsters fucked that dynamic up for his family, he hates them unconditionally.

None of that has been truer than how he feels tonight. Tonight, his hands are still shifty on the wheel of the Impala, tonight his feet are still struggling to reach the brake pedal without stretching, and tonight the sky is pitch black and the air is warm and humid, and tonight he’s gonna kill some monsters.

Well. Maybe not.

John’s instructions were to stop by (by which he means break in) the morgue, take an extra look at the bodies, and identify any marks that stand out for a tell of what kind of son of a bitch they were dealing with.

John usually does this himself, but Dean thought it best to not bring up the fact that his dad needs to drink himself to blissful unconsciousness on the week of the anniversary of his dead wife. The case was bad timing, thus, Dean is the lucky pick to do the dirty work.

Not that he minds. This is something he wants to do. This is something he craves. Dean has been getting taller and bigger and stronger, and his hands have been itching more, and he can’t stop shifting his weight, and lately he feels like doing something that will fully transition him into the man he’s supposed to be. Except all he knows is John, and John is a hunter.

But Dean doesn’t mind. He’s good with a gun, and he’s a quick runner (he would have joined the track team if John had let them stay past Christmas break at his last school), and if that’s all he’s got, he’ll use it to do something. He’ll figure it out.

He’d way prefer to risk himself getting arrested, and going to juvie (again), than Sammy. Sammy, who’s back at the motel. Sammy who’s hopefully, peacefully sleeping. Sammy, who he hopes won’t be awake to see John come back from the bar. Dean intends to make it back before that. It’s only 11pm. He’s got time.

Dean parks the Impala (he only struggles for a few seconds with it, alright) a couple blocks down from the police station. His shoulders crowd up around his ears, cotton of his sweatshirt brushing his jaw, as he walks, as silent as he can, between the shadows of the decorative trees in this stupid suburb, to the back of the station.

He’s already scouted the place earlier in the day, so he knows which window leads to the desired formaldehyde smelling room. The station is only one story high, so he’s easily able to unlatch the outside lock with his pocket knife, and heave himself up. He shimmies himself in (fuck, that window’s tight) and ends up doing a supported handstand on the morgue floor. He throws his legs to the side--only hurting his ankles a little on the edge of the window--and then he’s finally got both his feet on the ground.

Dean stands up from his crouch, slowly. Then he scoffs to himself. Who the fuck is gonna hear him in here?

He moves closer to where the target is. There’s a sleek metal table in front of him, and yes, there’s a dead person on it, covered by a thin white sheet. Dean searches for gloves in the dark, because he’s a teenage boy but he’s not that gross, and he snaps them on, pulling back the sheet and averting his eyes from the corpse’s face. He goes straight to where the money is.

At the junction between the corpse’s shoulder and jaw, right in the middle of the neck, there’s a big bite. It’s not anything his dad has seen before, as he kept complaining so much since they found the case, and Dean has to swallow back bile at how ugly it looks. Black and protruded, half scaly-like, half-raw ripped skin, at least under the moonlight coming from the window. He should have brought a flashlight.

Dean is cataloging the patterns to draw for his dad later, tracing his fingers over the lines carefully, really feeling the texture and the way it’s swollen the skin. He thinks he imagines the sound at first.

Then he stops his hand, and he thinks again.

That’s definitely a sound. Like a real movement that wasn’t him, and it’s coming—it came at least—from the room right next door, the main storage for the other bodies. Dean turns his head to look at the door, and oh, would you look at that, it’s peeking open to more darkness on the other side. Where the sound came from. Except how is there a sound at a morgue in the dead of night?

Dean was not prepared for this. His heartbeat starts announcing itself in his ears, and he’s almost vibrating with fear. He thinks of his dad. What would John do at a time like this? Probably start shooting.

But Dean didn’t have a gun. Even if he did, it could just be the doctor, or a policeman staying after (they always got in his way), and he can’t go around shooting random people. It’s hard to explain to a dead person: “Hey! Sorry! Thought you were a monster! My bad!”

Then he remembers his pocket knife, whips it out, and holds it tight in his right fist. Dean starts walking towards the door, but he wants to knock the whole wall down and skeet the fuck out of there.

He holds his breath as he gently kicks the door with the tip of his boot (he figured out a way to make Sam convince John to get him new ones, and yeah, these loggers are pretty fucking cool), and then he’s in the room.

The first thing he notices when his eyes adjust to how dark it is in there (honestly, would it kill a monster to turn on a light?), is the two figures bent over what he assumes is another poor corpse being taken advantage of. He also hears… ew. Those are chomping and chewing noises. He never gets the clean ones.

Dean doesn’t know what to do! Does he shout? Scare them? Lunge at them? Anything he does next could be the last thing he does. Is he ready to die?

Luckily, Dean doesn’t have to decide his first move because the figures do it for him.

It happens too fast—and maybe he’s reading too many comics because his first thought is I wish I had super speed like Barry so I could gank these fuckers, except he doesn’t, so it’s fast.

He’s on his back in a blink. There’s a bony arm on his neck and another holding one of his wrists in a grip so tight Dean wants to make a eulogy for his circulation. There’s also a normal-ish weight on his hips and his stomach, which suddenly lurches because fuck. Fuck. The monster’s on him, he’s pinned. And for some reason he’s still alive.

Still. Fuck.

After a moment of heaving breathing from the guy on top of him, the figure lurking around, and his own wheezing lungs, Dean grunts out: “You guys gonna eat me or what?”

The guy above him doesn’t let up, but Dean does feel the other one walking around. Like the ground shakes with his every step as he comes closer to Dean’s ears near the floor.

“Personally,” says Figure 2 from way above him, and Dean feels disoriented at how far away his voice sounds, “I’m fairly content. My son here, however… well, he’s just famished.”

Dean’s eyes flick to the guy on him, trying to make out his features but it’s just too dark, and all he can feel is the terribly tight grip on his wrist, the way his forearm is crushing on his neck, and—hey. His pocket knife is still in his hand. His free hand, the one trapped under the small of his back, where he can feel the butt of the handle digging into his skin slightly.

“Go on, son.”

Figure 1, aka The Son, seems to be hesitating, and Dean doesn’t want to wait till he decides if he wants more salt on him or not before the meal, so he wriggles his hand out, and drives it across his body and downwards in a surprisingly strong stroke. He knows he hit something when the arms on top of him lift up entirely, and there’s a pained groan resounding amid the darkness.

He rolls on his side, scrambles up, and flies out of the room, back into the main morgue lab, through the door, down and down the long hallway, past the reception desk, and he’s out the main entrance, not caring one bit about the obnoxious ringing of the alarm behind him.

His calves are burning by the time he throws himself in the Impala, and he clumsily fishes out his dad’s keys, turning the car on. He drives 50 above the speed limit until he gets to the motel.

Dean tells John everything. He draws what he remembers with shaky hands. He neglects to mention how many of them there were.

<15 years later>

“And then, like a fucking Clint Eastwood movie, he comes back home--”

“You mean the motel?” Sam interrupts.

“Yeah, whatever. So he barges in the door--” Dean frames a rectangle with his hands “--silhouetted by the moonlight, and he tucks his gun in and he swings his dirty machete over his shoulder and he tilts his head and then he says: ‘Boy, pack your stuff. Our job here is done.’ I mean… it was fucking awesome,” Dean chuckles.

“I think your memory is unreliable.”

“Sam, you were dead to the world that night. On my bed, might I add, so you didn’t even see any of this. John kicked ass!”

Eileen’s smile is a little forced, and a little awkward, but Dean can’t blame her. His energy is hard to match when he’s a few beers in. Sam keeps eyeing her, like he's checking in on how she’s receiving this story about their dad. Like she would ever judge him for it.

“He sounds like a brave hunter,” she signs and says. Dean feels way too proud.

Sam tries and fails to keep the grimace off his face. “Yeah. Babe, is it late? We should…” he trails off, tilting his head in the direction of their bedrooms. Eileen nods in agreement, seeming relieved. She squeezes Dean’s hands as she leaves. Sam is standing now, and he waits until Eileen is gone to turn his bitchface on.

“Dean, please stop doing that.”

Dean furrows his eyebrows. “Doing what?”

Sam sighs, exasperated. “Praising dad. I don’t know, sugarcoating him, painting him as the hero. You know damn well he wasn’t.”

Dean’s throat tightens. If that’s what Sam thinks he was doing, he really doesn’t know him at all. He's full of indignation when he answers: “That’s the last thing that I would do. I know firsthand, more than you, how shitty John was. Sam, I know. I was telling the story how I remembered it. ‘Cause back then? Yeah, he was my hero. I’m old enough to know better now, but--what the fuck do you care? You think I’m purposely lying to Eileen? For what?”

Sam can’t meet his eyes. “Dean, no that’s not what I-I just can’t hear that shit. It makes me… uncomfortable. I don’t wanna talk about dad like that anymore. I'd rather not talk about him at all, actually! I just… I can’t hear that shit from you.”

Dean balks, mouth open. He scoffs, “Fine.” He stands up and puts his jacket back on, checking his pockets for his keys and his wallet.

He’s halfway up the stairs when Sam calls from the library, “Dean, come on. Let’s talk about this. Or not! Dude, we just got back from a hunt, don’t leave. Let just-let’s forget about it, alright?”

Dean pauses at the railing. He turns around and shouts down at Sam: “Yeah, sure, Sammy! Let's forget our whole heritage. It never fucking mattered to you anyways.”

He’s slamming the door to the bunker closed behind him, and hopping in the Impala (which he didn’t have time to wash or put in the garage since their hunt), and then he’s off god knows where. He needs a drink.

Dean picks the fourth bar/restaurant place he sees. That seems like far enough away from his brother for now. It’s one he hasn’t gone to yet. Fun, new, and exciting!

He’s working on his third whiskey, maybe half an hour after he arrived, when the bartender puts down another glass in front of him.

Dean glances up. “Hey, um. I’m good for now, really.”

The bartender is tying his long cornrows in a ponytail on the back of his head, and when he meets Dean’s eyes, he gives him a shit-eating grin. He nods off to the side, “Courtesy of your secret admirer.” Then he winks at him and leaves for the kitchen behind him. Dean feels all warm inside at that, but he doesn’t have much time to revel in it before a man sits down on the stool next to him, a non-respectable four inch distance away.

Dean is appalled before he takes in this dude, and okay. Not bad. Looks about the same age, dresses like a grandpa from the trenchcoat he sees, has spiky black hair that Dean might want to run his hands through, and shit, fuck, he’s looking at Dean, say something!

“Hello,” the man says and whoa, who died and made you Batman? His lips are plumper than a guy’s lips usually are (look who’s talking, Dean) and chapped and they’ve got a nice shape. Dean likes the cupid’s arch on his upper lip, it looks classy. His nose is pointy, and maybe a bit small, but damn if it doesn’t work well with his sharp cheekbones. By the time Dean can register his eyes, all his brain can think of is wow.

Dean’s never seen bluer eyes. They’re as clear as the sky, but Dean feels like he could drown in them. Or maybe that’s just the way this man is looking at him. Dean’s rarely been stared at with this much intensity, and he feels a blush spread to the tips of his hot ears.

He clears his throat. “Hi.” Dean has to look away now, back to his own glass before he combusts. He’s surprised a dude like him would buy him a drink.

Apparently, the man can’t sense how awkward and unprepared Dean was for this because he starts talking again, keeping his voice low so that only Dean can hear him, so it’s only a rumble in his chest. “I hope I’m not overstepping. You looked like you needed some company. Is that the kind you like to drink?”

Dean is so flustered at the sheer… whatever this dude has, he has to remind himself this is a normal human interaction. Be nice. Make eye contact.

“Yeah, it’s uh--it’s great. Thanks. For buying it. Um, I’m kinda driving tonight, though, so I might want to stop at this--” Dean raises his own drink in his hand “--You can-you want it? I'd be a waste otherwise.” He’s cringing so bad inside that his stomach hurts.

The man levels him a neutral stare. A few seconds later, he nods and reaches over to pick up the extra whiskey. Dean follows his hands and fuck they’re nice. He’s got long fingers, and for some reason the way his metacarpals shift under his skin is incredibly attractive.

The fun doesn’t stop there though, because then the guy is bringing the glass to his mouth, and he’s not taking his eyes off Dean’s own wide ones, and he’s taking a drink and it all looks sinful. The way his trachea shifts as he swallows, the opening and closing of his enticing jaw, and especially the way his pink tongue peeks out from his mouth to lick at the rim of the glass.

Dean swallows what feels like sandpaper.

“My name is Castiel,” he says, putting the glass down, holding it between his hands like he's bracketing it. He shifts his hands and the glass follows, rotating back and forth.

“Dean.”

Castiel nods, his lips quirk up a little, and this might be the first sort-of smile Dean has seen from him.

“Why’d you buy me a drink?” he blurts out.

The grin grows by a millimeter. “You looked like you needed one.”

Dean snorts. “That bad, huh?”

“Maybe that good.” Dean sees a peek of teeth from Castiel and he can’t help but shiver.

Dean recognizes it for what it is, so he turns on his own charm, slipping into familiar flirting territory.

“So what do you do, Castiel?”

Castiel’s eyes flick to Dean’s mouth for the quickest moment, and then his mouth is a neutral plane again, smirk vanishing completely. He thinks for a few seconds. “I’m an accountant.”

Dean knows that could mean literally anything, except the guy is wearing a tie and there’s a trenchcoat, so yeah. He’s an accountant for real.

“Cool. Numbers, huh?”

Castiel narrows his eyes, like he’s squinting. Dean finds it both intimidating and endearing. “Yes. How about you, Dean?”

He blushes harder at hearing his name in that gravelly voice, but keeps his cool when he answers, rehearsed: “Odd jobs, here and there.”

Castiel doesn’t miss a beat. “Fascinating.”

Dean blinks. Okay. “Is it?”

“Yes. You must travel a lot.”

“I do, yeah,” he nods, feeling a little vulnerable.

Castiel is back to staring at him intensely, and it makes Dean’s veins sizzle a little with want. They’re upgrading from Flirting/Small Talk Territory to Let’s Go Like Now Territory. Dean’s breathing comes a little deeper.

“Would you like to travel right now?”

“What?”

Castiel is definitely looking at his mouth. “Would you like to go outside?”

Dean raises his eyebrows in surprise. This guy does not waste time. Not that he’s complaining, he’s been feeling hot all over since Castiel sat down, and he’d give himself at most another half an hour before he proposed they move this interaction somewhere else himself. So Dean downs the rest of his whiskey, feels the buzz in his ears and the tips of his fingers, and he stands up. “Let’s go.”

Castiel follows him outside.

The night is more humid than it should be for August, but Dean can feel the chill of Fall coming, and he’s grateful for his jacket. He’s shoved his hands in his jean pockets as he walks to the corner where the sidewall of the bar meets the front wall of it. He stops and leans one shoulder right at the edge of the wall to the side, facing the parking lot. Out of options for what to say, Dean waits until Castiel comes closer (his hands are in his trench coat pockets and it’s weirdly cute), and he points at his Baby, thirty feet away.

“That’s my car. She’s my Baby.”

Castiel stops two feet away from him, but right in front, and he turns his body to the side to follow where Dean’s finger points. He stares at the Impala for a bit, before he turns his head to Dean again. The light coming from inside the restaurant is what brightens Castiel’s face and Dean is a little breathless as he admires his illuminated features.

“She’s very beautiful.”

Dean smiles, proud and sheepish. “Thanks. Um, what about yours?”

Castiel inhales, taken aback. “Oh. I didn’t drive here tonight. I like walking.” he says slowly.

“Oh, okay.” Dean answers stupidly. It’s not that he’s disappointed they can’t talk about cars, it’s just… what else are they supposed to talk about at a moment like this?

“So what brought you here tonight, Cas?” Dean doesn’t catch himself in time, and the nickname is out. Oops. Castiel seems to inflate a little in response though, so he’s fine. For now.

“Rough day.” He says, then like an afterthought he adds, “At work.”

This dude is so fucking weird. Dean is obsessed with him.

Suddenly, he doesn’t want to wait anymore, he just wants to take what Castiel offered. He’s been wanting to taste him since he looked at his lips, so he smirks at Castiel and he asks, “Come here, Cas.”

For a moment Castiel tilts his head, and Dean can’t figure him out, and he kinda loves that, the anticipation of not knowing what this guy is gonna do or who he is. Dean beckons him with a hand. He’s drunk enough on the beers from earlier and the whiskey and the adrenaline drop from the finished hunt that he’s allowing himself this tonight. A little recklessness can’t hurt.

Castiel walks closer than Dean expected him to, and Dean turns to press his back to the side wall, his shoulder barely off the edge where the front and side connect. Castiel follows the twist of his body perfectly because suddenly he’s crowding Dean against the small space with his hands on either side of his head on the wall. Their faces are mere inches apart.

Dean loves the way the air shifts then, like someone pulled a lever down and the current of electricity started running. They’re breathing each other’s air, and Castiel’s eyes are glued to Dean’s mouth, while Dean alternates his staring between Castiel’s darkened eyes and those chapped lips. Dean feels like he's vibrating.

He forces his hands to unfreeze and brush the trench coat flaps aside, coming to rest on top of Castiel’s hips, over his belt. This moves their bodies closer still, Dean subconsciously opening his legs wider to let Castiel slot a knee in between them. Their hips press, Dean shivers, and then he shivers even more when he feels Castiel’s lips pressing against his.

It’s exactly like he imagined, except it’s about a thousand times better. Castiel’s lips are soft and pliant, and he presses brushing kisses and pecks Dean’s lips for a bit, leaving them tingling for more, until he starts to really get into it. Castiel softly clamps his mouth around Dean’s bottom lip and he pulls back, and Dean is so fucked. He tries to keep his knees from wobbling, and then he gets what he wants when Castiel presses forward again, kissing him open mouthed, and there is his tongue, and it tastes really sweet and Dean feels positively intoxicated.

He can’t remember when he closed his eyes, but there are fireworks exploding behind them, and his dick is saying “Hell, yeah!” and he’s tilting his head to kiss Castiel deeper, chasing more of his mouth and his taste and his smell. His hands are gripping Castiel’s hips in a vice.

Dean can’t help the moan he lets out when Castiel’s tongue does a thing, and he also can’t help his surprise when Castiel pulls back abruptly after the sound has registered. His shock is almost overshadowed by the crude things his brain is thinking when he takes in Castiel, whose lips are shiny and wet, and whose pupils are enormous.

Dean holds his breath, furrows his eyebrows, and waits. Castiel is looking at him, pained.

“Dean, I can’t,” he whispers.

There is a moment, and then Dean blinks, understanding everything. He’s a little upset, but mostly embarrassed, except his brain can’t fully express that, so it’s put through a well-oiled machine that converts it into anger. Now, that he can do.

He’s pushing Castiel off him, walking five steps away then pivoting and walking back. He repeats this path, running a hand down his face as Castiel just fucking stands there, looking at him sadly.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Dean bites out.

“Dean, I can-” Casties tries.

“No, seriously. What the fuck is wrong with you?” he whirls around to stare right at Castiel a few feet away. Castiel’s shoulders fall and it enrages Dean even more.

“You know what, Cas? Go fuck yourself. You got some issues to figure out, and it’s not gonna be with me. Go to hell, asshole.” Dean spits out, fixing Castiel with a furious stare, feeling his jaw tick in anger, and then he’s stomping away.

As he gets closer to the Impala, he crosses his arms, feeling indignation constrict his chest. This is not the first time this has happened with Dean and unfortunately, he thinks it probably won’t be the last.

Damn it. A guy like that? Probably has a pretty little wife, probably hides his wedding band right in his front pocket, which Dean completely skipped on his way to grab at Castiel’s ass. He groans internally as he rounds the back of the car till he reaches the driver’s door. He’s going home with the worst case of blue balls he’s ever had.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” He hears as he fishes out his keys and puts the right one in the slot to unlock the door, and hey, Castiel’s voice is much closer than he expected, but Dean doesn’t have time to turn around and yell at him some more because suddenly the ground is completely gone from under his feet. Dean’s vision goes blinding white, and then pitch black.

The pain finally registers on the back of his head, and the last thing he sees before he's out, is the key chain dangling from the lock on the Impala’s door.

****

The world slowly slots back together as Dean wakes up. There’s four, then three, then two, and then it all merges into one again. Dean acutely feels the pouding in his head.

He’s… laying down? Yeah, he’s on a bed. The mattress is nice. There's even a thin blanket on top of him, dark grey. He turns his head to the side-nope, that’s a wall-tries the other side and okay good, there’s the rest of the room. He feels a little less claustrophobic now that he’s seen the whole space. It’s dark just because the lights are off. It looks like a normal basement, unfinished ceiling and all, with boxes stacked in the corner covering a whole wall. There’s a couch facing him, parallel to the bed, and there’s a figure sitting there. Dean eyes his phone, wallet, car keys, and pocket knife on a night stand next to the bed. It’s just out of his reach.

He pinches his eyes shut, wiggles his toes in his boots (no brain damage done, yay), and then he groans out: “What can I do for ya, Mr. Monster?”

When he opens his eyes, Castiel has turned one of the overhead light bulbs on. He looks serious.

“Firstly, I want to apologize, Dean. I didn’t want to have to do this, and I didn’t plan for it.”

Dean is more than confused. “What.”

Castiel stands up from his couch, he’s only in his suit now, tie loosened, and damn Dean’s stupid (probably concussed) brain, but he still looks yummy. Monster, Dean. Focus.

Castiel crosses his arms, and plants his feet. He keeps a very respectable distance away from the bed, and Dean’s gut twists at the thought that he was playing him all along.

“I didn’t… want to seduce you. I just wanted to talk. I might have derailed from my plan slightly.”

Dean’s jaw ticks. “And what was that amazing plan of yours, Castiel? If that’s your real name.”

Castiel narrows his eyes at Dean’s tone. He huffs a breath out his nose, frowning.

“You know, Dean, you may not remember me, but I remember you. Fifteen years ago, your father killed my father, and I’ve been keeping tabs on you ever since.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean breaths out after a few seconds of stunned silence, propping himself up to fully sit up on the bed. He feels his bruised brain click things together. “You’re the second one. You survived.”

Castiel is silent, and that’s all the confirmation Dean needs to know he was pinned down by this guy way before tonight.

Dean laughs. “What kind of fucked up revenge plot is this? You’ve been stalking me for years? Well, then you must know my father died of alcohol poisoning almost a decade ago. It was ugly and painful, and you missed your chance, asshole.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Dean,” he says sternly, “I didn’t want to kill your father. And I don’t want to kill you. That’s not why I ended up kidnapping you tonight. I’m grateful for what your father did for me.”

Dean does a double take, swings his feet off the bed and onto the ground. “You’re what?”

“This may come as a surprise, but not every monster is a monster. Not fully, anyway. I’m half-human. And I need your help to go all the way.”

[missroserose]

Wednesday Reading Meme: Atmospheria Edition

Hello, tumblr!  I used to post these over on Dreamwidth, but for the past two and a half years, I’ve been reading almost exclusively fanfiction, with only occasional forays into book-land.  I’ve thought occasionally about writing about the fic I was reading, but frankly, most of it was short-ish works intended for easy gratification.  (Not that I'm knocking easy gratification!  But a 3500-word story about a captive Dean Winchester watching an evil version of himself and Castiel have sex is...entertaining, certainly, just maybe not in a way that lends itself to a lot of deeper analysis.) (Well, other than perhaps a judicious use of the "this better not awaken anything in me" meme.  Ahem.) That said! I've read a lot of fanfiction over the past few years, and plan to continue.  So I think I'm going to add a Fanfiction Spotlight slot to the Wednesday Reading Meme format.  Chances are there'll have been something I've read in any given week that feels like it deserves attention.  And in the meantime, I’ve been reading Actual Paper Books lately, largely as a way to wean myself of the doomscrolling habit...and since I’m low-key boycotting Goodreads these days, I figure I’ll try writing about them here.

So without further ado...

What I've recently finished reading The Starless Sea, by Erin Morgenstern.  I'd previously read The Night Circus on a long-ass plane flight, and it turned out to be almost the perfect book for it—pure escapism so heavily drenched in dreamy poetic atmosphere that I could sink into it like a hot bath, and forget for much of the six-hour flight time that I was crammed into a tiny coach seat.  Sea is definitely in that same vein, but this time around I found the thinness and uncertainty of the plot to be rather more frustrating, in a way that overpowered the richness of the atmosphere.   There was still plenty there to enjoy, including a portal fantasy to any bibliophile's world of pure wish-fulfillment, and some meditations on love and change, and one quote in particular on the nature of love that's stuck with me...but I don't think the whole thing hangs together as well as it promised, at the start.  And while (as a fellow author) I completely understand that things change as you write them, when you reach a point in a story where it feels like the author has as little idea as you do what happens next, I find it a little demoralizing. Morpho Eugenia, by A.S. Byatt.  Now that I think about it, this novella makes for an interesting comparison to Sea, because it's similarly atmospheric, albeit less in the dreamy-imaginative-lovers-and-poets vein than the neo-Victorian highly-organized-and-tightly-laced-household-full-of-dark-undercurrents style.  It also does absolutely nothing surprising, plot-wise; it's 180 pages long and I think I'd identified most of the major themes and guessed the major arcs/big plot reveal by page fifteen.  That's not necessarily a fault in and of itself—there's something comforting about a story that does exactly what you expect, and it does a good job threading the needle of ladling on the foreshadowing without (quite) hitting you over the head with what's going on.  But frankly, the narrative stumbles somewhat in its slavish devotion to form.   As an example:  our protagonist is an entolomologist and atheist, penniless in the wake of a shipwreck that robbed him of his specimens and research, who finds himself living on the largesse of a wealthy family whose patriarch has an interest in natural philosophy.  So there are, of course, extensive passages on the nature and habits of various insects (meant to be excerpts from his work), on the potential space for the existence of God in natural selection (meant to be arguments from the patriarch), and even an extensive semi-allegorical insectoid fairy tale (written by another character entirely), which...certainly is all in keeping with the Victorian style, but none of which really feels particularly necessary to the story, here in this age where encyclopedias are a thing and anyone reading a neo-Victorian novella probably has at least a passing familiarity with the Deist arguments being held in the wake of Darwin's publication of On the Origin of Species.  Some cynical part of me wonders if Byatt was trying to write a whole novel, only to discover that the main thrust of her story was nowhere near substantial enough to support one, and even with all the padding she only managed to reach novella length. What I'm currently reading Technically I haven't started it, but The Conjugial Angel is the other Byatt novella in the collection I picked up, so I'm probably going to power through that just so I won't feel guilty about tossing the book on the "to be donated" pile.  If it's anything like Morpho Eugenia, I expect to feel thoroughly "meh" about it, but hey!  Maybe I'll be surprised! What I plan to read next I have two specific recommended-by-friends books in my queue.  The first is Aleksander Solzhenitsyn's One Day In The Life of Ivan Denisovich, which I'm rather looking forward to despite my somewhat uneven relationship with Russian literature.  It was recommended to me by @coffeeandchemicals, and the bits and pieces of Solzhenitsyn I've encountered in the wild make me suspect I'll find his perspective interesting.  And even if I end up hating it, well...it's short. The second is Margo Lanagan's book Tender Morsels, which I know very little about other than it's a dark fairy tale.  But it was sent by @introvertia, who's become quite dear to me, and the theme of it (the jacket cover promises an Edenic tale of three women turned out of their personal Heaven and having to deal with the harsh realities of the outside world) certainly feels appropriate to 2020. Fanfiction Spotlight I was particularly taken with the premise of @zoemathemata's Supernatural/Supernatural RPF story "Folie a Deux".  Sam and Dean Winchester are held captive in Lofty Pines Mental Institution for unknown reasons, slowly being brainwashed into thinking that they're two run-of-the-mill dudes named Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki...or are Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki two men suffering from the delusion that they're supernatural-creature hunter brothers named Sam and Dean Winchester?  And if they're brothers, how do they square that with the fact that they can't seem to keep their hands off each other...? It's a clever idea, with the sort of meta-analytical flavor that's very in keeping with the show itself, and zoemathemata makes full use of the opportunity to break down the many inconsistencies and flaws that any long-running serialized story accumulates but that we, the audience, overlook for the sake of the Plot of the Week.  My one personal complaint about it is that it ends too soon—the most immediate plot threads are resolved but there's a distinct sense that this is the beginning rather than the ending.  The author says in the comments that they didn't continue it in part because they couldn't decide which was the reality—and I totally get not wanting to spend months or years writing a novel-length fic out of what's supposed to be a quick bit of fun—but there's just so much you could do with this idea.  Even without picking sides, it could be a Total Recall-style ambiguously-themed case fic, or a "Frame of Mind"-esque dark psychological thriller, or any number of other options...

What can I say?  I have a weakness for unreliable narrators.