#and he looks exactly as miserable as Dean does after dream a little dream of me

[cormoranthh]

the thing that's so heartbreaking to me about spn is that in the beginning you think the death of their mom (and Jessica) is like the obligatory tragic backstory to set them on their heroic path or whatever, and then you get their complicated relationship to John and it's like okay that's part of the tragic backstory and then you start to realize it's not a backstory, it's just their story, they literally never got out, every single episode we are watching them continue the exact life they lived as children, the whole show begins with Sam getting pulled back in when he thought he had gotten out, and it's so incredibly sad

[gremlin-dreams]

The Witch's Granddaughter

I saved some kind of kid from their witch grandmother being hit by a truck in a storm and flash-flood during a ritual and I started raising her. Her name was Lily.

Obviously we had to try and blend into society so she became my little sister. I excelled in school and she was really smart too, and cute, maybe around 10 years old. I must have been around 18. I notice I am around this age in a lot of my dreams. 

I was even the fastest to make it over the fence when the instructor at the academy told us to hunt birds (I have no answers, it was weird). I was so fast and so free and a lot of people liked me. I was weirdly good at the ladder pace challenge too, almost beating this guy called Dean. 

He was a lean, strong, smart kid and I kinda fell for him but silently. And another girl, Callie, who had suspicions about us but it turns out she was a Harpy and had powers too, she used them to help us most of the time. 

And then there was this innocent lovely girl called Izzie, my "little sister's" best friend. We all became like a family. Izzie was kind of mothering and caring even though she was the youngest of the group. 

Then one day, something happened at the school, some kind of attack. I had always tried to plan for events like this just in case and made Dean promise he would save Lily first. In this event he managed it, he was just about to get her out of a window on the track-side of the building (We lived in the hidden witches hut thing buried into the land and trees by this old traint-rack that wasn't even used any more) when my head was suddenly on the chopping block. This thing (the only way I can describe it is it looked exactly like the Ra’zac in Eragon, all “beetley”) was on top of me, and I know I made him promise to save Lily but I did everything I could to fight back and I was scared - all I wanted was him. 

That's when Callie appeared out of nowhere and saved my ass. She was more advanced in "magic" than we were because she'd been raised in the harpy ways by her family way before leaving for the academy, all happy family style. (Or harpy family aha)

We lied low for a few days, even went to stay at a hotel in case the “villains” somehow knew where we lived. Unlikely because the hut was protected by runes. You can only find it if you know it's there, or if you’re following someone who does.

We arrived after another storm, the hotel staff were not happy about all the mud we brought in but it was miserable out there. 

We all tried to settle in, and for the first time we all had our own rooms, It was bizarre, usually we all slept in bunks in the upstairs room of the hut. I went to visit the girls in their room and check they were okay, and already found Callie in there doing the same.

Izzie was reading mail from her parents, sadly she couldn't go home after we told her the truth, because she and her family would be vulnerable and in danger - so she was in a hotel room with Lily

Apparently Dean was off somewhere for a drink because he wasn’t in his room when I knocked and Callie hadn't seen him, so I went for an 'innocent' wander.

I was looking for him, I admit, but I got sidetracked and ended up in the hotel's gardens and greenhouses, finding the most plump gorgeous looking blackberry bushes. I know the kids would love a treat and I was working on my stealth, so I stuck to the darker areas and plucked a few. Some were gorgeously ripe (it never occurred to me that they were out of season) and I put them into the tray, and some (I didn't realise) were perfectly smooth and felt somewhat gelatinous. I felt dizzy and it was too late by the time I figured out they were egg sacs, of some kind of espionage engineered bug. The egg sacs were covered in these gross protective shells and soaked in neurotoxins. I'm lucky to have made it out of there at all.

I ran like hell, as fast as my feet could go - but the pattern of the carpet was moving and the walls were caving in on me - or so it seemed. I burst into the girls' hotel room and yelled, telling them to grab stuff and run. "The men were already here" I kept saying over and over. 

The girls were crying and Callie came back from their bathroom confused and trying to calm me down, which is when I collapsed, dizzy, on the rough carpet. My vision was all blurry but the last thing I remember seeing was Dean opening the door.

Next thing I knew, I was covered in a blanket, pillow beneath my head, and I was at home, on the warm wooden floor of the hut, facing the small fireplace.

My vision was still a little off and I looked around as much as I could. No one was here but Dean, but I can't tell you how much better it felt when I saw him. He coaxed me into not trying to get up too fast, or speak. He was right, my head was rushing and I felt sick. I tried to ask how we got here but he ignored me and tried to get me to drink water. It wasn't unlike him to be the strong silent type. 

I could hear voices from the kitchen and Izzie peaked her head around the doorframe. I smiled and beckoned her in. She disappeared for a moment then came bounding in with Lily, both excited to see me awake and jumping on me to hug me.

Dean tried to calm them down, but ended up just sighing and walking out, probably to the kitchen.

The girls ranted about how crazy I looked and how scared they were and how Dean had to carry me all the way to the hut. I blushed a little inside, but continued listening whilst my thought process ran back to the hotel.

"Why was I scared again? What got me running?" I asked, completely oblivious and they said something about berries they found in my pocket. Then I remembered.

I got up, struggling to stand, pushing the blanket off me. Dean came back with a concerned look, arms ready to catch me, saying I should be resting.

I told him, it was all probably a mess of unintelligible words but I blurted it out as fast as I could, still feeling weak and weird.

When he managed to make sense of what I was saying, he looked panicked too, a little more than he already was. I expected that much, but he was far more worried that I was, and I asked what ghost he had just seen. He replied, told me I'd been out for 2 whole days, that Callie and him figured something was up and had been on high alert, but they didn’t find anything. He was worried that there were probably tons of them that knew by now - maybe even followed us to the hut to find it.

He grabbed me, picking me up bridal style, making me laugh and blush (probably very obviously) because I was still a little out of it - but it barely covered my fear for a few seconds.

He beckoned the girls to follow and called for Callie. She flew down in an instant, apparently she'd been sitting in the eaves of the tree that we were under, worrying, watching. 

He took me to this cellar where we kept supplies and worked on potions, the most secure and unreachable crevice in that hut. I felt safe but also a little patronised until he told me that I was in here protecting the girls. I agreed and let him shut us in, I bolted it from the inside, barricading the door. 

A little context here - when I rescued Lily, it was in the middle of a ritual that the old witch was doing to release the natural magic bloodline inside Lily. I don't know how, but by saving her when the witch got hit - it somehow finished the ritual. You can apparently learn magic in this dream universe, like me and Dean were, but some people just had magic in their blood - like Lily and Callie. Me and Dean had only learnt so much in our time here but Lily was still more powerful - the only glitch being that she had no idea how to hone her abilities yet, and probably wouldn't for a number of years. Rendering her nearly defenceless. 

The rest of the dream is kinda blurry. It culminated in a big fight outside the hut, (unfortunately it was kill or be killed) we were strong enough that they could barely cross the river or the train tracks let alone come inside. I protected the girls but got restless so instructed them to hide and stay silent in that cellar whilst I went outside to help- which led to me accidentally saving Dean's life. At the end, Lily and Izzie came out when we thought it was over, but there were a few left. One of them grabbed Lily and pushed Izzie away into the river which was really high and fast, I guess it was storm season. Callie managed to rescue Izzie, but Dean and I were sort of helpless as we tried to get to Lily. At one point she got so scared, it was horrible watching the fear on her face, the tears in her eyes, but she screamed. She screamed and curled up and this blast kind of emanated from her, it was deep red, and it fired the bastard holding her back like ten, maybe fifteen feet, dead.

With most of the creature-men things dead, scattered across the ground in the heavy rain, covered in mud, I felt uneasy, looking around for anything that moved. 

We managed to catch the last three of this squad still alive so no news got back to anyone. We survived another day.

[startanewdream]

For the Hinny Ficfest lovely organized by @clarensjoy, here’s the second drabble set during Christmas of Year 6, with Harry doing some good old pining.

70. "Mum thinks I'm dating you" (and Harry wishes she was right)

Ginny throws herself on the cnouch next to Harry, eyes closed. Harry tries not to show any reaction, though it’s hard — her presence comes with that intoxicating flowery scent and he can’t help but inhale deeply, even as he keeps his gaze forward. He doesn’t need to turn to her anyway — he’s been stealing glances in her direction all day, enjoying the contrast between her new dark green sweater and her flaming red hair, or the flush that came to the cream colour of her skin as she had worked on her broomstick all afternoon.

‘Mum thinks we are dating’, she announces, making him jump.

Harry turns to look at her now, surprise flashing upon his face.

‘W-what?’, he splutters, feeling his face reddening. Ginny is smirking, amused, though Harry doesn’t know if it is because of his reaction or because of her mother’s wrong idea.

Harry wishes Mrs. Weasley was correct on that assumption, but alas he is not the one who gets to say he is dating Ginny.

'Secretly dating, mind you. Very naughty of us'.

'I — we —', Harry stops, his brain frozen at the idea of dating Ginny and "naughty" in the same context. He forces himself to breath, which, with her perfume in the air, does nothing to help him clear his mind. 'How come?'

‘She saw your Christmas gift’, Ginny explains. Harry gulps, unsure.

‘I didn’t - I’m sorry if - I wasn’t -’

‘Harry’, Ginny interrupts him, smiling kinder now. ‘You did nothing wrong. I loved that Broomstick Servicing Kit, I truly needed one’.

Harry nods now; Ginny had already thanked him for that gift, beaming at him before breakfast, and Harry had felt relieved. He had spent hours thinking of what to give her for Christmas, not daring to ask for Ron or Hermione’s help, until he ended up choosing something that was not too intimate but also useful. Ginny loved Quidditch more than anyone he knew, so he had figured out she would like a gift about it.

‘It’s my fault’, she adds distractedly. ‘I kept talking to Dad about your gift and how it was my favourite, but I also had to defend Dean’s gift to Ron this morning, and somehow Mum thought that my boyfriend had give me this kit, so -’

‘So she thought I was your boyfriend’, Harry summarizes, forcing the grimace on his face to look more like a smile, as if he thinks the whole situation is just funny and not miserable.

Ginny shrugs. ‘It’s kind of my fault, I guess. I wasn’t exactly showing off the gift Dean gave me’.

‘What it was?’

She sighs. ‘A ring’.

He feels his mouth drying. ‘Ring? Like a -’

‘No, no engagement or a promise ring’, she adds hurriedly, with a panic on her face that somehow calms Harry. ‘Just a normal cute ring, but — it’s not really my thing. Jewels. Especially not rings, they make me feel —’

‘Constricted’, he guesses. Ginny raises one eyebrow. ‘Same as you don’t like to wear scarves or you always let the first button of your shirt open’.

There is a short silence. Harry suddenly feels embarrassed — maybe he said too much? (Maybe Ginny realized he has stared at her neckline too much?)— but after a while she just nods.

‘Yeah, well. I explained to Mum that you aren’t my boyfriend, but I’m not sure she believed me — she had this weird thought’.

‘What thought?’

‘That we’ve been together a lot’.

‘Well’, Harry starts, hoping to sound reasonable and not as if he needs to reinforce to Ginny all the reasons they would work together. ‘That’s true. More than before. We spent a lot of time together during summer’.

It’s not hard to remember all those afternoons he spent with Ginny alone in the orchards, flying with her, long after Ron and Hermione had retired back to the Burrow; or those early mornings when they went for a run that often than not would turn into a stroll as they just talked about anything on their minds.

Harry wishes he had known better then to truly appreciate those moments with Ginny — perhaps things could be different between them if only he wasn’t so oblivious…

‘We are friends’, Ginny notes. Harry sighs heavily, facing front again.

‘That’s us. Friends’.

‘Can you imagine how she would react if we were dating?’, asks Ginny, her voice inviting him to share the joke with him.

Harry knows what she is teasing about and he knows he should just laugh at the idea of how Mrs. Weasley would fuss at the idea of Harry dating her young daughter, or how she might treat them like Bill and Fleur and suddenly get worried about the idea of them spending time together alone.

But none of it looks bad. Mrs. Weasley’s happiness of them being together would be nothing like the happiness that Harry thinks he would feel if Ginny returned his feelings; he imagines holding hands with her during this winter break, ending their Quidditch discussions with a snogging session in the broom shed or meeting her for sharing a chocolate and a good night kiss in the kitchen.

And yet she looks at him now so friendly and teasingly that this dream seems very far away.

‘It wouldn’t be the worst thing’, he says, avoiding her eyes, and not saying what he really wants: he would endure anything, including Mrs. Weasley’s tearful happiness and limits and the twins’ jokes if only he got the chance of dating Ginny and all that comes with it.

Ginny stays silent, though, and Harry wonders if he said something wrong, or, worse, if she understood exactly what’s on his mind. She always had a knack for seeing through him —

But Ginny laughs after a moment. ‘It wouldn’t’, she agrees, her voice light, raising and patting him in the shoulder. ‘But you wouldn’t be that lucky’.

He is gone before he can answer her, but for once he doesn’t mind, thinking about what she said. Lucky — and he happens to have a lucky potion on his truck right now. Hum… maybe he only needs a little drop of luck...

[deeryloo]

this was supposed to be a more general post that looks at the similarities between xxxholic and supernatural overall, and while I still want to do that, honestly the only thing I can focus on today is the overlap between watanuki and dean, so that’s what we’re getting instead. 

i’ve been thinking a lot about what makes a character tragic. what makes their story sad. like, supremely, miserably, bone-achingly sad. and, okay, when i say i’ve been thinking a lot about what makes a character tragic, what i really mean is i’ve been thinking a lot about dean winchester and watanuki kimihiro. im rewatching supernatural with one friend, and im rereading xxxholic with another, and the experience is wild because all my wires are crossing in my brain, because dean and watanuki punch me in the gut in the exact same offensively upsetting way, and i really wanna talk about it.

i wanna talk about how the tragedy of dean winchester is that he spends 15 years stretching, like a rubber band, closer and closer to a realized sense of self, to then be repeatedly snapped back to his shitty self-esteem by the exterior forces on the show telling him (directly or otherwise) that he doesn’t deserve better. and that even after dean breaks completely free of his binds and starts to envision a life for solely just himself, he is left to die on a rusty nail and ultimately does not get to experience anything of that dream life of his own. 

and i wanna talk too about how watanuki spends the first half of his journey learning to see his own value, to respect the ways he impacts others, and to actually begin forming meaningful relationships with the people who care about him, only to ultimately sequester himself into a shop he can’t leave for the rest of eternity while the people he loves grow up and leave or die or marry each other so they can keep having kids for the specific purpose of giving watanuki company, so he, too, gets to experience nothing of a life of his own.

like, it’s their shared endings that do me in. maybe they don’t seem the same on the surface (dean dies and goes to heaven, watanuki lives forever in a multidimensional shop he can’t leave), but i feel like narratively the consequences are the same. the damage to viewers looking for a cathartic release is the same. because dean dying and going to a place where nothing changes, he owns nothing, he works for nothing, means the growth he’s allowed as a character has ended. dean died never knowing what it meant to live for himself. he died never knowing how sweet true freedom--from john, from michael, from amara, from chuck, whoever--could be. and, honestly, i think you could say the same for watanuki.

i really feel like yuuko wanted something else for watanuki. yuuko does everything she can to help him understand that his life has meaning and value beyond his own understanding of himself. she tries to get it through his head that acting like he doesn’t matter, sacrificing himself willy nilly--that hurts people. his actions don’t affect just himself. and despite yuuko (and others! the joro gumo, doumeki, SYAORAN to name a few) spending so much time on this with watanuki, watanuki just doesn’t get it. or he does, but decides not to accept it. and because watanuki is stopped in time, trapped in that shop by the series’ end, the growth he’s allowed as a character ends, too. he literally stops living for himself, instead living only for the faint wish yuuko might come back. and it’s terrible. 

there’s just this sense of lessons not really learned for both of them. dean dances for over a decade with the idea that he deserves to die, even if his deepest wish is to live. he toys with the idea of change, the idea of growth. and of course, he gets it to an extent. but the story never lets him really go for it. he’s given moments that indicate he’s ready for something more than hunting, something more than bloody death, but in the end he dies in a random accident and insisting this was always it for him. so what was dean’s true takeaway as a character? for audiences? did he ever really think he deserved something more? 

and for watanuki, I ask the same. so much of watanuki’s arc is about learning the power of kindness and love when offered to those who otherwise don’t receive it, including HIMSELF. he is told over and over again, and seems to believe himself, that he can no longer make choices for other people on their behalf, nor can he try and undo what others do on his behalf. but I really feel the hope is that in teaching this to watanuki, in teaching the power of his own actions for better and worse, that he will make the kind of choices that aren’t needlessly self-sacrificial, because the damage of those self-sacrificial choices is almost always greater than the benefit. so what are we to make of watanuki’s final choice to stay in the shop? “don’t vanish!” says syaoran, but watanuki does exactly that. he literally removes himself from the world, takes on yuuko’s mannerisms and dress, and quits engaging with anyone who isn’t doumeki and kohane. what is our takeaway then? what does watanuki learn about loving himself when he so easily denies himself a future for the sake a dead woman who is never, canon suggests, coming back?

there’s just such a gut wrenching softness to dean and watanuki. such a sense of perseverance in the face of loss and misfortune that drives me up the wall. and there’s such a clear love for each of them from the people around them, too. we’re all a little in love with Dean Winchester. we’re all a little in love with watanuki kimihiro. I keep thinking of Castiel’s words to dean in “despair.” about how he does everything for love, everyone knows it. and I see in my mind doumeki telling kohane about his secret promise to never let watanuki die alone, like that kitten he held by the river in the rain. just as cas and sam and garth and crowley and so many others are dedicated to dean, so are kohane and himawari and yuuko and doumeki dedicated to watanuki. the loyalty both these men inspire from us readers as well as other characters, because of the goodness of their hearts...it kills me that neither of them get to really see it for themselves. how loved they really are. they catch glimpses, but neither gets a life in which that love can really be lived in. it’s just another layer of tragedy they both carry. dean deserved better. watanuki deserved better. 

I could talk about a lot more, and maybe I will later, idk. the wider themes between the two texts, the parallels between castiel and doumeki, the ideas of hitsuzen and fate. but for now I guess I'll stop here. just looking at dean and watanuki is enough pain for one evening, I'd say. 

[smol-and-grumpy]

Sky Full Of Stars - CH07

Sequel to Something Just Like This

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: He’s Dean Winchester, ex mobster boss, still a little cocky, less ruthless and not at all short tempered anymore. Instead, he thinks he’s hilarious (she doesn’t agree, though). They both try to live a quiet life. And Dean hopes, very hard, that his former life won’t come knocking at their door.

Warnings: Really, really fluffy but also there’s angst and a little NSFW

WC: 2957

A/N: The only joy I had today was editing this. So here you go, have two chapters in one day. Happy Friday!

SERIES MASTERLIST

It’s mid-September. The leaves are starting to change their colors, some of them already falling down. Little brown and yellow dots, a stark contrast to the green grass. Dean loves it. Loves when the season changes, loves how he can even smell the air change around him, loves how the leaves crunches underneath his boots. 

He’s in his study. It overlooks the backyard, because it’s the room below their bedroom. Y/N’s right above him, she most likely sees the same thing when she looks out of the window into their backyard. They’re lucky with the weather, too, today.

She probably does look out right now. If she does, she’ll see the people mingling, sees the flower arch, sees the little white chairs in front of it. She’ll see Bobby who’s dressed to the nines, nervously reciting his speech. The old man looks different without his cap and plaid shirt. 

What she doesn’t see, though, is some people hiding behind the big trees on the outskirts of their property. What she doesn’t see is that there are always cars outside their gate. Cars and people who always have an eye on them. 

Gabe set up his company and employed the best of people like Dean asked him to. It seems like everyone knows about it, because almost everyone’s involved, but Dean’s still been too much of a coward to tell her. He knows that he has to one day but not today. To be fair, he also never found the right time to tell her before because she was so preoccupied with organizing a wedding and Dean really didn’t see the point in interfering with her organizing. Didn’t see the point to scare her with it so she would maybe blow the whole thing off. He’ll tell her when the right time comes. He knows he has to.

“Hey,” Cas knocks and opens the door, pulling Dean back from his thoughts.

“Hey Cas,” Dean greets his long time friend. 

Cas walks in, closing the door behind him, and walks over to where Dean’s standing by the window, “How are you?”

Dean snorts, “I’m sweating,” It’s true, he’s sweating bullets and hates the feeling, “You know, I thought the birth of Ella was the only time that I’ll feel like this but no, today is right at the top.” Dean takes a breath, braces his hands on the window sill and looks down, “It’s crazy isn’t it? I wanted this. I wanted everything, I got everything and now I’m about to fucking chicken out.”

“Hey,” Cas hushes, places a hand on Dean’s shoulder, “You’ve got this. I mean, I went through it, you can either. You fucking wimp!”

Dean chuckles at that and then there’s a knock before they both look back to see Sam slipping in. 

Sam looks at both of them, an amused look on his face, “Hey, you’re still here, I thought you’d run for the hills.”

“Well, he’s about to,” Cas grins, “Got here on time to keep him from doing it.”

“I might have something for ya,” Sam wriggles with his eyebrows and produces a flask from his suit jacket. 

“Yes, please,” Dean sighs, takes it and unscrews the flask to take a long swig from it. He squints at the burn and shakes his head as he lets the liquor warm his throat. 

 *

 Dean’s standing in front of the flower arch, Cas and Sam were standing there with him. He looks into the faces of the guest, sees them all smiling back at him, some nodding. There aren’t many, two handfuls at best. 

Y/N told him that she wouldn’t want something big and he agreed. He didn’t want to marry her and make a lavish party out of it. He would have married her in Vegas with the attendance of Elvis, if that’s what she would have wanted. He didn’t actually really care as long as it was him and her. Didn’t care as long as she still wants to. 

He never thought that he’d be so nervous though, never thought that he’d be the one who almost chickens out of something he wanted in the first place. 

Linda’s sitting in the first row, balancing Ella on her lap. And she still frowns at Dean, that woman probably will never get used to him. 

They were doing everything themselves today and every guest takes part in the wedding as they have brought food or baked a cake, Sam offered to be the DJ and Dean’s still not really okay with that. 

It’s crazy how Dean has money to rent out the best location with the best of catering but all Y/N wants is something small in their backyard. Looking at it, Dean’s very happy with her choice. All the people that truly matter to him are here and that��s really the most important thing. 

“You okay, son?” Bobby asks as they are standing next to each other. 

Bobby has gotten ordained so he can perform the little ceremony. He offered it and at first Ash wanted to do it but honestly, if Dean has to choose between Ash or Bobby, the choice is clear. Who knows where Ash would have taken this.

“Okay, here we go,” Ash announces and all the eyes shoot to the back.

Everything and everyone went silent, even the babies who were crying. Or maybe they still did but Dean’s heart is pounding so hard, all he hears is his own heartbeat. He feels hot all of a sudden, and there’s the cold sweat again beading on his forehead. 

He sees her, one hand hooks into Gabe’s arm, the other one holding a small bouquet of flowers. There’s a flower crown on her head. She’s wearing a dress in cream, frilly and lacy. She went out dress shopping last week, and wanted to wait until the last moment because she was sure she would lose some weight and Dean doesn’t even know if she lost the weight she wanted because all he knows is that she looks goddamn beautiful.

And Dean doesn’t want to be that guy, he really didn’t. He doesn’t want to cry as soon as he sees the bride but yet, here he is, grinning like an idiot and swallowing down the tears that built up as soon as he saw her. 

Y/N looks like a waking dream. Something he has anticipated for so long without even knowing it because the good dreams normally got chased away to make room for his nightmares.

Sam squeezes Dean’s shoulder and leans to whisper, “She looks beautiful.”

Dean agrees.

She really does. The prettiest little thing he did ever see. 

He watches her walk down the non-existent aisle, because two rows can’t be counted as an aisle in his opinion, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is how she looks at him when she sees him, how there’s a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, and she bites down on her bottom lip. She’s nervous, he can see that. Well, he knows exactly how she feels. 

Gabe lets go of her and she stands next to Dean now, looking up.

“You look lovely,” He mumbles, had trouble finding the right words.

“Well, you look hot,” She grins, and Dean almost has to laugh out loud. 

“I’m not allowed to kiss you yet, am I?” Dean whispers again, is already halfway to do it but then he stops himself. 

Before she could answer him, Bobby takes the lead. 

They didn’t exchange vows, neither did they exchange rings. They both have one and that’s more than enough. They’ve talked about the vows thoroughly, and they both agree that they didn’t need anyone to know their feelings or promises for each other. It’s something between the both of them.

“You may now kiss the bride, son.” Bobby announces with a big smile on his face. 

“Jesus,” Dean rolls his eyes with a sigh, “Fucking finally,” 

Everyone laughs, including Y/N and he weaves his arm around her waist, pulls her closer. She locks her arms around his neck, and Dean looks down, sees her smiling back at him. “Hi Mrs. Winchester,”

“Hello Mr. Winchester,” She winks and laughs, “Now please kiss me, I’m dying here.”

“Always so bossy,” Dean chuckles, and he finally bends down, kisses her. The tense in his body’s gone.

The people around them were cheering but Dean tunes that out, doesn’t hear it. All he hears is his heart that still thumbs ridiculously fast. Dean breaks the kiss after a while, even though he didn’t want to but he guesses that they need to carry on with the day. He pecks her lips once more, though, for good measure and whispers to her, “You’ve had whiskey,”

She grins mischievously, “You too.” 

Dean snorts, “Not gonna lie, almost chickened out.”

“Me too,” She says and nuzzles her face into the crook of his neck as they both laugh. 

“Why didn’t you tell me, we could have eloped, have taken Ella and drove.” 

“I didn’t spend so much time planning it to be running away from it.” She looks up at him. 

He shrugs, “Fair point,” Before he takes her hand, and together they walk to their terrace where all of the people were already waiting, having made room for them and left them some privacy after the ceremony. 

 *

 Y/N draws a bath while Dean’s feeding Ella. The little girl’s on formula now and it actually makes things so much easier. Dean can now get up and take care of Ella and let Y/N sleep. They’re more relaxed since the change, and Y/N’s more content either. She’s had trouble with nursing for the first two months where she didn’t produce enough milk and there was a lot of crying. When they introduced Ella to weaning, they also introduced her to formula. It was the best decision, really and Dean thought that they should have made the choice sooner. They could have spared Y/N from a lot of heartache.

Dean felt helpless during that time, and Y/N felt like a failure, they were both miserable for a long time until she came to him and gestures with her hand before she started to babble, “Screw all the perfect moms, I’m not perfect and that’s okay. My body can’t give her what she needs but that doesn’t mean that I’m not a good mom.” 

And he couldn’t agree more with that. Had to talk her into it either because she told him that he should back her up on her decision and honestly, Dean agrees with whatever she wants because she knows her own body better than he does when it comes to breastfeeding. He can’t imagine going through all the hardships of it in the first place. The whole process was draining from the start with raw bloody nipples and leaking and painful breasts. Apparently breastfeeding is not for everyone, and if someone can’t do it, doesn’t really mean that they are a failure or a bad mom because of it. 

After the feeding, Y/N takes Ella from Dean and he kisses his girl good night. Dean takes off his clothes, and gets into the tub, leans his head back and closes his eyes.

He’s almost drifting off when Y/N pokes her head in, “Hey,”

She’s smiling at him, still wearing one of his plaid shirts, even if she doesn’t have to nurse Ella anymore. Dean doesn’t complain, he loves the look on her. 

“Is there room for me?” She unbuttons her shirt and takes it off, lets it pool around her ankle before she hooks her fingers through the waistband of her panties, slides them down too. 

“There’s always room for you,” Dean says in a low voice and she comes over stands naked next to the tub and the sight makes his heart beat just a little faster. 

He’s hard too, can not get hard when he sees her, a thing he both loves and hates at the same time. 

She gets in, sits on his lap and rests her head on his shoulder. Dean hugs her in the water, trails his fingertips along her body and she wiggles in his laps, feels his hard cock too. 

Her face is a little flush and the way she grinds down on him, Dean knows that she’s aroused. Apparently, he does the same thing to her like she does to him, she told him once. 

Dean kisses along her shoulder, noses behind her ear. 

“Are we supposed to consummate our marriage now?” She asks.

He chuckles before kissing the sensitive place at the back of her ear. “We don’t have to do anything, and honestly, I’m beat, even if my body doesn’t show it.”

“Oh, thank god,” She sighs, “I’m exhausted either.”

They both have to laugh, and she turns her head back, kissing him. It’s all gentle and soft before it starts to grow heavier. 

“Baby, you shouldn’t start anything you can’t finish.” Dean warns her, because even if he’s beat, the way she kisses him pushes at all his right buttons. 

“‘M sorry,” She says and turns back, but she can’t stop grinding down on him. 

“Baby,” 

“I know,” She lets out a frustrated sigh, “Like, I’m really tired but what if you just put it in, I just want to feel you inside.”

Dean’s eyebrow climbs up his forehead, “You sure?” 

She turns her head back to him, her bottom lip between her teeth and there’s a smile. “Please?”

“You know that I can never say no to you, right? I think you’re misusing your power over me.”

Snorting out a laugh, she kisses the tip of his nose before she lifts her ass up a little to position his dick at her entrance. Slowly she sits down and Dean has to hold in his breath at how fucking good it felt.

But she was true to her words, because she doesn’t move, leans her head back to rest against his shoulder. Dean should mind though, he hates to be teased like this. It’s perfect as it is, though, and strangely, he doesn’t even want more.

He trails his knuckles along her arms, “How are you feeling?”

“Good, just really tired.” 

“Me too. Who would have thought that getting married would be so exhausting, huh?”

“Yeah,” She agrees and Dean places a kiss on her temple. 

Dean leaves his lips on her temple, mumbles into the kiss, “Okay, I think I’m ready to say my vows, you wanna hear it?” 

Y/N looks back and up to him, smiling at him warmly, “Of course,”

“Okay,” Dean clears his throat, and he feels his heart picking up speed again, “You looked so beautiful to me today, but you should know that you always look beautiful to me, and you will always look beautiful. Even when you just wake up and according to you, you look like a truck ran you over. But that’s not true. That’s not what I see when I see you. You’ll look beautiful no matter what, and not only today. Tomorrow too, and the next day, and the day after the next,”

“You’re making me blush,” She says, and turns in his lap enough to be able to bury her face into the crook of his neck.

“Good,” Dean chuckles, before he goes on, “You know that I’ll always be here, right? Always going to be here along the way. I’ll stay beside you, and I’m always here if you need someone to talk, if you need someone to cuddle, even if you need someone to let your frustrations out on. And I vow to stay. Not only because I don’t have anywhere else to go but also because this is it for me. You are it. You’re my home. This is what I always wanted and I didn’t even realize it. If someone would ask to close my eyes and picture happiness, all I see is you and there’s Ella, Truffles too, if he behaves, and Bubbles can go get lost.”

“Hey!” She swats one hand against his chest, splashing water into his face. 

“That cat hates me.”

“No it doesn’t.” She’s laughing now and it’s good, Dean thinks. The laughter doesn’t make him tear up as much as he wants to. 

“Can I tell you something?” She says then and Dean nods, not without kissing the top of her head. 

“Anything,”

“I know that I’m not always easy, I might not always be what you want me to be,”

Dean opens his mouth to protest because she’s basically everything he wants her to be but she hushes him with a glare.

“Okay, I might not always be the best of what I want myself to be. I have doubts, I have insecurities,” Dean nods at that, because she always set such high standards for herself, it sometimes drives him nuts. 

“And I might not always agree with you all the time because I’m stubborn,” 

Dean snorts out a “Yeah,” And she rolls her eyes at that. 

“Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I might not be perfect, but I vow that I’ll always love you. I love you not only for what you are but also for what you make me, and that is the best possible I can be, and as much as you’re keeping me, Dean? I’m keeping you. You won’t get rid of me that easily Mr. Winchester,” She chuckles and looks up, kissing his scruff.

“Not that I want to, Mrs. Winchester,” Dean mumbles, and leans down to nose at her cheek, kisses her and she kisses him back, smiles against his lips. 

CH08

[supertransural]

thinking about dean cas and baby jack going on a road trip. dean’s used to being in the impala for long lapses of time, but it’s usually stressful, it’s tiring, it’s always in the expectancy of another job, another monster to be defeated. it’s always going from point A where a killer was killed to point B where another one awaits. it’s always about the job.

so this time, concentrating on the road as dusk was slowly creeping up on them, with cas dozing off beside him or maybe thinking hard about... something (this was cas after all, how was dean supposed to know what went on in his (his!! he still couldn’t believe that) angel’s head), squinting as always, his eyes almost shut; with 4yo jack in the backseat, drooling all over the fine black leather (if this wasn’t his kid, dean would’ve stopped the car already and thrown the child out just for this punishable-by-death-atrocity) and dreaming about a future dean gets to be a part of (goddammit how did he get so lucky), he was surprised when he didn’t feel the much-too-common tension in his shoulders. he felt... relaxed, yes that’s the word. it’s a word he was beginning to understand, a word that cas was teaching him how to feel.

a small smile cracked its way through dean’s face as he turned his attention back to the road. they were on their way to Louisiana, not set on a town yet. he may have been retired, but dean hadn’t lost his taste for adventure, so he had convinced his little family to just, wing it. he wondered if he should switch routes and see where the new one lead him, but that might upset cas who was really excited about eating the good food he’d heard his husband talk so much about. louisiana it is, then, he thought.

in the corner of his eye, he could see cas breathing deeply, no doubt already mapping out every possible resting spot for tonight, every corner store that sold kids food, maybe emergency stuff (cas could get a bit overwhelming when he listed off every single potential thing that may go terribly wrong with jack when they leave the safety of their house) or diners that cas deemed appropriate enough for their special kid. because he really was special, every smile, every laugh, every new drawing or string of words he puts together seemingly just so he can see his dads smile, every single thing this baby does is special. unique. and dean gets to see all those things, he gets to be there for everyone of them. jesus he’s getting emotional, should stop that now or cas will be teasing him about it for the rest of the trip. ok, deep breaths now, he thought. the road, the wheel in his hands, baby’s engine humming quietly. right. got it.

they packed frantically two days prior, because cas. jack was giggling the whole way through, observing them from his stool, since apparently dean looked really funny with peach fuzz he hadn’t had the time to shave yet (cas woke him up in a panic at 6am dammit) pink pajama shorts, his boots and a unicorn tshirt he only wore in cas’ presence (sam is a lovey kid, but hell if dean is ever going to let him see the collection of tshirts this one comes from). 4 suitcases, a couple inflatable duck-floaties, way too many towels, every single one of jack’s stuffed animals (except the little purple dinosaur one that jack was firmly holding onto during his inspection of his parents’ packing ordeal) and a thousand other useless things cas seemed to find essential to their survival.

“jesus, it’s only a couple weeks, honey!” dean had told him, trying to fit the last suitcase into the trunk of the impala (and miserably failing, to his own bitter disappointment).

“yes, a “couple weeks” within which we will apparently be doing things and going places we cannot foresee, as was your wish. i simply want to be prepared for any alternative your resourceful mind might come up with. and jack requires all his stuffies, he cannot sleep without counting each one of them before bed. you do not wish to see your child cry for two weeks, do you? you would not purposely cause him any pain, would you? right then the matter is settled. these items must find their way into this car you love so much, and i must attend to our son. his breakfast awaits!” cas had responded, mischievous smile growing larger with each sentence. “good luck!” he then added, giving dean a long and deep kiss, as if this was to be their last.

after a kiss like that, how was dean supposed to keep on complaining? he wasn’t, and that was exactly what cas intended, dean knew that. doesn’t mean he protested, or argued against his miraculous-bitch of a husband. so he had finished packing, muttering to himself, but unable to push down the grin that cas’ kiss had brought upon his face. or the flush of his cheeks for that matter.

here he was, happy as he’d ever been, relaxed for the first time ever while being on a long drive (first of many times, he hoped), with the love of his life on his right side, and the other light of his existence in the backseat, little hands still clutching the purple dinosaur.

“hey.” he heard a raspy and sleepy voice say. cas had indeed been asleep for the past 30 minutes.

“good morning, sleepyhead!” answered dean, chuckling.

he looked at cas’ beautifully hazy face, his icy blue eyes shining in the pink-orange light of the fading sun. god, how could this man be his, and how could dean ever refuse him anything. he reached out his right hand to place it on cas’ left thigh, stroking it lovingly in round patterns with his thumb. smiling at him, he wondered if giving him a quick kiss would cause his husband to start lecturing him again (for the thousandth time probably) about driving safely when jack was in the car.

fuck it, he thought. he glanced at the empty road, and lunged quickly towards cas before the former angel could refuse, and placed his lips on his for a few seconds. grinning to himself as he sat back, directing his gaze back to the highway, he waited for cas’ annoyed voice, no doubt already preparing a stern talking-to and threatening him to rat him out to the police to get his license taken away (not that it would matter, dean still had all his fake ID’s in a secret box back home, carefully tucked between baby clothes and pacifiers at the bottom of a drawer).

“dean.” cas started, a frown already carved into his forehead.

“oh no you don’t” dean cut him off. “if you lecture me, jack’s gonna feel it and he’ll wake up from what seems to be a very pleasant dream. save it for the hotel room, i know a few ways you can make me feel the weight of my wrongdoing.” he added with a wink.

cas turned to look at his son, still happily asleep in the back. frown disappearing, a sweet smile starting to lighten his expression (wow, he really could just look that magnificent whenever he felt like it) he turned back to face his partner.

“fine. just because he’s asleep. where are we?” cas said, squinting disapprovingly, then yawning silently.

“just passed the northern border of arkensas.” answered dean with a sigh. “gonna be a pretty boring drive from here on out”.

“i see. there’s a motel not far from here, with a town nearby where we could find sustenance, appropriate for jack too.” cas said, not even looking at his phone: he’d memorized each town’s location, every name of every motel, roadhouse, diner that they might encounter, because he was like that. and god did dean love him for it. “it’s getting a bit late, and i would rather see jack in a bed tonight than sleeping in the car” he remarked. “no offense to her” he added hurriedly when he felt dean’s glare after what could be interpreted as an insult to his baby.

“alright. when’s the exit for this town of yours?” dean asked absentmindedly.

“15 more miles, i believe.” cas answered, propping up an elbow on the windowsill.

“cool. tell me when you see it, i might forget, with you looking so handsome right next to me and all. tired father really is a good look on you.” dean whispered with a side smile.

“oh stop it. jack is right there.” cas answered, chuckling and fiddling with his wedding ring.

they stared at each other, peace settling comfortably between them.

“you know i love you, right?” said dean, without a hint of humor in his voice.

“yes, you’ve taken the habit of telling me, roughly 28 times a day, give or take.” joked cas as he saw dean scowl. “i love you too, now and forever, when the seas rise and swallow the land, when the heavens fall and the stars burn out, i will still love you, the only light that ever mattered, the first soul i ever really saw, the one i followed to hell and back. but you already knew that, right?” cas uttered with warmth, with the same voice he’d used at their wedding.

“jesus, cas. if you’re not careful, i might just end up falling for you. oh wait, i already did.” answered dean, face reddened and heart full. this is where he belonged.

dean’s hand was still on cas’ thigh, and their gazes were still locked together when jack woke from his sleep in an adorable mumble. he immediately started babbling to his fathers about the dream he had had (probably making up new details, but you could never know with that kid). as the family laughed together, dean looked to his window, and time stilled for a split second.

he saw a ghost of who he was, staring back at him in his reflection, eyes glossy with tears (joy? terror? sadness? love? hate? too hard to tell). the face in the makeshift mirror seemed to ask “is this really what is coming? will i truly get to where you are one day?”. dean smiled, nodding a silent “yes, yes you will. in time.” and the face faded away slowly, a little less scared than it had seemed at first.

when he looked back towards his husband and his son, his own eyes were glossy too.

“what’s wrong?” cas asked, worried.

“nothing, i’m just happy.” dean answered, wiping away a tear that was slipping down his cheek with a sure smile. “i’m just... happy.”

they drove until cas pointed at the exit, ate, and fell asleep contentedly.

18 years ago, dean dozed off without the need for strong booze in the very same motel, and the same tear (joy, maybe?) danced down his face into the pillow. a low hum of a voice saying “in time” ringing brightly in his mind, he fell asleep into the deepest slumber he’d ever gotten. “all will be well”, a voice kept repeating.

[archivistsammy]

i’ve been thinking a lot about what makes a character tragic. what makes their story sad. like, supremely, miserably, bone-achingly sad. and, okay, when i say i’ve been thinking a lot about what makes a character tragic, what i really mean is i’ve been thinking a lot about dean winchester and watanuki kimihiro.  im rewatching supernatural with one friend, and im rereading xxxholic with another, and the experience is wild because all my wires are crossing in my brain, because dean and watanuki punch me in the gut in the exact same offensively upsetting way, and i really wanna talk about it. this was supposed to be a more general post that looks at the similarities between xxxholic and supernatural overall, and while I still want to do that, honestly the only thing I can focus on today is the overlap between watanuki and dean, so that’s what we’re getting instead.

i wanna talk about how the tragedy of dean winchester is that he spends 15 years stretching, like a rubber band, closer and closer to a realized sense of self, to then be repeatedly snapped back to his shitty self-esteem by the exterior forces on the show telling him (directly or otherwise) that he doesn’t deserve better. and that even after dean breaks completely free of his binds and starts to envision a life for solely just himself, he is left to die on a rusty nail and ultimately does not get to experience anything of that dream life of his own.

and i wanna talk too about how watanuki spends the first half of his journey learning to see his own value, to respect the ways he impacts others, and to actually begin forming meaningful relationships with the people who care about him, only to ultimately sequester himself into a shop he can’t leave for the rest of eternity while the people he loves grow up and leave or die or marry each other so they can keep having kids for the specific purpose of giving watanuki company, so he, too, gets to experience nothing of a life of his own.

it’s their shared endings that do me in. maybe they don’t seem the same on the surface (dean dies and goes to heaven, watanuki lives forever in a multidimensional shop he can’t leave), but i feel like narratively the consequences are the same. the damage to viewers looking for a cathartic release is the same. because dean dying and going to a place where nothing changes means the growth he’s allowed as a character has ended. dean died never knowing what it meant to live for himself. he died never knowing how sweet true freedom–from john, from michael, from amara, from chuck, whoever–could be. and, honestly, i think you could say the same for watanuki.

i really feel like yuuko wanted something else for watanuki. yuuko does everything she can to help him understand that his life has meaning and value beyond his own understanding of himself. she tries to get it through his head that acting like he doesn’t matter, sacrificing himself willy nilly–that hurts people. his actions don’t affect just himself. and of course he can make his own choices, but he can’t do so pretending those choices won’t have consequences for others, too. and despite yuuko (and others! the joro gumo, doumeki, SYAORAN to name a few) spending so much time on this with watanuki, watanuki just doesn’t get it. or he does, but decides not to accept it. and because watanuki is stopped in time, trapped in that shop by the series’ end, the growth he’s allowed as a character ends, too. he literally stops living for himself, instead living only for the faint wish yuuko might come back. and it’s terrible.

there’s just this sense of lessons not really learned for both of them. dean dances for over a decade with the idea that he deserves to die, even if his deepest wish is to live. he toys with the idea of change, the idea of growth. and of course, he gets it to an extent. but the story never lets him really go for it. he’s given moments that indicate he’s ready for something more than hunting, something more than bloody death, but in the end he dies in a random accident and insisting this was always it for him. so what was dean’s true takeaway as a character? for audiences? did he ever really think he deserved something more?

and for watanuki, I ask the same. so much of watanuki’s arc is about learning the power of love when offered to those who otherwise don’t receive it, including HIMSELF. he is told over and over again, and seems to believe himself, that he can no longer make choices for other people on their behalf, nor can he try and undo what others do on his behalf. but I really feel the hope is that in teaching this to watanuki, in teaching the power of his own actions for better and worse, that he will make the kind of choices that aren’t needlessly self-sacrificial, because the damage of those self-sacrificial choices is almost always greater than the benefit. 

so what are we to make of watanuki’s final choice to stay in the shop? “don’t vanish!” says syaoran, but watanuki does exactly that. he literally removes himself from the world, takes on yuuko’s mannerisms and dress, and quits engaging with anyone who isn’t doumeki and kohane. what is our takeaway then? what does watanuki learn about loving himself when he so easily denies himself a future for the sake a dead woman who is never, canon suggests, coming back?

there’s just such a gut wrenching softness to dean and watanuki. such a sense of perseverance in the face of loss and misfortune that drives me up the wall. and there’s such a clear love for each of them from the people around them, too. we’re all a little in love with dean winchester. we’re all a little in love with watanuki kimihiro. I keep thinking of castiel’s words to dean in “despair.” about how he does everything for love, everyone knows it. and I see in my mind doumeki telling kohane about his quiet commitment to never let watanuki die alone, like that kitten he held by the river in the rain. just as cas and sam and garth and crowley and so many others are dedicated to dean, so are kohane and himawari and yuuko and doumeki dedicated to watanuki. the loyalty both these men inspire from us readers as well as other characters, because of the goodness of their hearts…it kills me that neither of them get to really see it for themselves. how loved they really are. they catch glimpses, but neither gets a life in which that love can really be lived in. it’s just another layer of tragedy they both carry. dean deserved better. watanuki deserved better.

I could talk about a lot more, and maybe I will later, idk. the wider themes between the two texts, the parallels between castiel and doumeki, the ideas of hitsuzen and fate. but for now I guess I’ll stop here. just looking at dean and watanuki is enough pain for one evening, I’d say.

[bidean-byedean]

holy shit, I posted a fic?

Merry Christmas fruits (affectionate), here is my Christmas present to me: actually writing something for a prompt and posting it!!

SPN Advent Calendar Day 24: I’ll be Home For Christmas

AO3 Link 

It’s silent in the Bunker. But not empty, not even close. It waited patiently. As it always does. For those who were meant to find it, did. They always do. And for the first time in many years, for the first of many years:

The Winchesters are home for Christmas.

It’s silent in the Bunker. Empty. No one around for miles that even knows of its existence. Patiently it waits. It knows that eventually, someone will hear its calls and find their way. Those who are meant to be there always do. 

Sam Winchester is the first one home. Technically now, Sam Leahy. He pulls up in the sensible car he managed to snag from a grateful dealership owner who had a problem with a cursed family heirloom, and no matter how much Dean teases him, Sam appreciates the normality of it. Especially now. 

Coming around to the passenger side, he opens the door and holds out his hands for Eileen to grab, her centre of gravity no longer where it should be. She pretends to huff, but softens immediately as he pulls her to her feet, her enormous belly pushing them back apart. It’s easy to forget how lucky they are, with all that happened in the last year, and then he sees Eileen, sees her growing with his baby, and it hits him all over again. For all the bad they went through, where they’ve ended up is pretty incredible. 

Eileen tip-toes up to kiss him, their lips already cold despite only being out of the car for thirty seconds. Something wet lands on her face and they both look up to see the first flakes starting to fall. She smiles brightly. 

“I love snow,” she signs. 

“I know, but we should  go in before-“

“Wait, just one minute. Please.” 

She breathes in deeply, letting the cold air fill her lungs and tingle all the way down into her fingers. Where she grew up, there wasn’t snow on Christmas, always the possibility, but it usually amounted to cold rain and miserable clouds. Here, there’s proper good snow, the kind that falls in fat, fluffy chunks from the sky and settles quickly, building up to a thick blanket in the time it takes you to find your coat and hat and gloves and scarf. 

Letting her face fall back, the flakes tickle her skin, landing on her eyes and mouth, melting almost instantly into tiny cold droplets that run into her hair and down her neck. Sam watches her entranced. He’s never thought much of snow before, not more than it being a type of weather that usually denotes Christmas time and them getting stuck somewhere because the Impala is not an all weather vehicle. But Eileen, she makes it magical. The way it makes her smile, how she breathes it in like it’s her first breath of fresh air in years, and not to mention, she looks even cuter than usual with her cheeks and nose all pink from the cold, her eyes shining brightly in the darkness. 

“Why are you staring at me?”

“Cause you’re beautiful.”

“You say that to all the girls.”

He pulls her into another kiss, deeper than the first, trying to tell her that he and Dean may have saved the world but it’s her that made it worth saving in the first place, it’s her that makes it beautiful,. 

Inside the Bunker, it’s perfectly toasty, the rush of warm air that escapes when they unlock the door is like a hug, as if the Bunker itself has come to greet them. The place looks like Santa’s grotto on steroids. Their Mrs. Butters interlude may have ended tragically, however she did remind them that they shouldn’t be embarrassed about embracing the holidays - you never know when will be your last chance to celebrate with your loved ones. No one was meant to have another Christmas, and definitely not the Winchesters, so going all out was a unanimous decision.

The banisters are laced with tinsel and the insanely long strings of lights that the boys found tucked in the back of one of the storage rooms. It took hours to get them just so, but the effect is breathtaking. Sam flips off the main lights and lets the place be bathed in coloured lights: reds and blues and greens and golds and whites. Some of them blink in and out slowly, some change colour, the motion giving it all a dream-like quality. Although they finished putting everything up in the first week of December, Eileen still hasn’t gotten used it to. It’s just so much and she loves it. 

They unpack the last minute groceries and put the oven on for tonight’s dinner: party food. If it comes frozen and in miniature, they were eating it. Sam couldn’t wait to see Jack’s face when he saw tonight’s offering, which reminded him- when would Jack get here? He didn’t exactly have a cell that they could call, but he usually gave them the heads up before he was popping in. He kind of expected him to be here already, it was Christmas Eve and Jack had seemed so excited about the holidays…

The lights click off briefly, so briefly that Sam thinks he might’ve just blinked but when he looks up he sees Eileen by the light switch, an urgent look on her face. 

“Come, come, and shhh,” she signs before disappearing without waiting to check Sam follows. He always follows. 

She makes her way through the Bunker into the library, slowing down to sneak into the room like she was trying not to disturb someone, but as far as Sam knew, they were the only people in the Bunker. 

“What?” He signs frowning, but then he sees:

In the library is the tree; the biggest, most obnoxious tree that they could fit through the front door. Thankfully, they found a ladder so they could actually put the lights and tinsel on the monstrous thing, but apart from that the green bows are bare. It’s not the tree that the pair are concerned with though, it’s who is standing, staring up at it. 

Jack’s had Christmases before. The one with Mrs. Butters was his favourite, but not a perfect one because Castiel wasn’t there, and if Castiel wasn’t there then it couldn’t be perfect. This year would be perfect and his favourite because they would all be there. Him, and Castiel, and Sam, and Dean, and Eileen, and the baby. 

He likes the Christmas tree. He feels its life energy coursing through the evergreen leaves; thankful that Sam listened to him about making sure to cut it so that it could be sustained and replanted. It looks beautiful. He likes the lights, the way they blink slowly, changing colour as if they think you might not notice, bleeding from one hue to another almost perfectly. Jack likes perfect things. Which is good because he thinks everything is perfect. 

“Hey Jack,” Sam calls out. 

They think he didn’t know they’re there, and he let them. It’s nice. “Hello.”

“Do you like it?” He signs while he speaks. He’s getting much better at that, Jack smiles. “Biggest one we could get.”

He nods up Sam. “Very much.”

“We, uh,” he taps a box on the floor with his foot. “Left the decorations for you. Thought you might wanna put them up. There’s an angel for the top.”

“Can I wait for Castiel and Dean to get home?”

“Of course.”

“Want a hot chocolate, Jack?” Eileen asks. “I think baby does.”

His eyes drop to her belly. It’s much bigger than the last time he saw her, the baby is almost ready. His sibling, that’s what Sam and Eileen said. He would be big brother. “Can I have marshmallows?”

“Duh! And whipped cream?”

They disappear together, Sam staying behind to look at the tree for a moment. Flashes of childhood Christmases come rushing back, all jumbled into one. There’s one particular year they had a tree in their sad little motel room, probably stolen from a store or something, but it was still great. They even put their gifts under it and waited until after midnight to open them, almost like a real Christmas. How Christmas should be. 

It’s hard not to be angry or ungrateful or dwell on the horrible shit that happened to them over their lives, but it also isn’t healthy to pretend to not be all those things. He spent so much of his life feeling like he didn’t deserve good things, like he would never get to be happy because he was created for evil and doing bad. The fact that Sam Winchester, the boy with demon blood, Lucifer’s Vessel, was decorating for Christmas with actual God, who considered him a father figure, was almost the most insane thing that had happened to him. But it was good and real and he deserved it. He did. 

“We’re home!” 

Dean’s voice echoes through the Bunker making Sam roll his eyes; no matter how many times he tells Dean it’s a dumb habit, his brother just couldn’t drop it. Sam finds them all in the kitchen, Dean already trying to swap out Jack’s Christmas mug of hot chocolate with a beer.

“Hey! Full house, huh?” Dean beams. “I was just telling them, it’s a fuckin’ nightmare outside. Thought we were gonna get stranded.”

Cas sighs loudly. “You should really get a car that can cope with the weather. Or at least snow tyres.”

“Don’t insult Baby like that, Cas. She got us home, didn’t she?”

“Just,” he mutters into his own drink. “Can I ask the plan for this evening?”

“Food, food, and more food?” Eileen signs. “Did you want to finish the tree first? We can put the presents out now too?”

“Good idea,” Dean nods and they all slope back into the library. 

The box of decorations is extremely old and extremely heavy. Inside, it is packed away meticulously, one of the last remnants of Mrs. Butters’, which they had no hope of replicating when it came to taking it all down again. However, no one is thinking about tidying up right now. They rummage through the vintage decorations: delicate glass shapes, baubles filled like snow globes, and weird festive caricatures of monsters like Bigfoot with a Christmas hat on it’s head. There are spell bags for good fortune and keeping spirits high and hangovers at bay, which they check over thoroughly before deciding are not traps and can go on the tree. 

Soon enough there’s only one thing left. 

“Jack, will you do the honours?” Castiel asks, handing the porcelain-faced angel to him. 

He nods happily and steps into the air. It’s surreal to watch him walk as if on solid ground but get further and further away from the floor. He pauses by the top of the tree and smiles before securing the angel to the point. From the ground, it’s almost too far away to really appreciate the thing, but they all beam up at his handiwork anyway. Then they put out the presents. Somehow everyone managed to get on board and there are five distinct piles, everyone getting their own wrapping paper in order to minimise confusion. It’s really quite impressive that they’ve managed it all so smoothly. Mistakes will likely come to light quickly in the morning when they actually come to unwrap them. 

Silently, Castiel slips his fingers through Dean’s, and as always, the Hunter’s heart leaps in his chest. He never wants to get used to the way that it feels to touch Cas, whenever he wants, however he wants. He would never get used to the fact that Cas wants to touch him back. 

“We’ll go set up the Den,” he announces, pulling Cas along with him.

“Not on the blankets!” Sam calls after them. “And crack a window, we have to sit in there too!”

He flips his brother off over his shoulder. However, the big galump has a point. Not that he’s taking Cas to the Den do anything inappropriate, even if that is their usual MO. It’s not Dean’s fault that they have a built in netflix-and-chill room and that Sam decided to get his wife pregnant immediately instead of making the most of not being dead. Plus, he and Cas had years of lost sex to catch up, as was their God given right. (He doesn’t have the brain capacity to unpack the use of that phrase now that his kinda-sorta-maybe-son-in-law is God). 

The Den is also Christmas-fied, just not to the extent of the rest of the place. There are always fairy lights strung up (their Cas’ favourite lighting), but now, they’ve been swapped out for festive coloured ones. 

“Wait,” Cas says, stopping them as they go through the door. Dean frowns at him, but Cas just looks up until Dean follows his gaze. Ah. “Mistletoe. I believe that mistletoe over a doorway signifies something.”

“Does it now? Do you know what?”

They move in closer. 

“I’m not quite sure.”

“Oh? Must not be important then,” he starts to turn away.

Cas catches him and pulls him in. “It’s coming to me.”

“Mmm?” Dean licks his lips. 

Cas mirrors him, his eyes glittering with the reflections of white-blue lights. “On the tip of my tongue.”

Their faces move together slowly as he speaks. Dean’s hands are on Cas’ waist, while Cas’ travel up Dean’s arms, dragging his fingers over the soft fabric of his shirt, until they settle behind his head. Their lips meet in a gentle kiss; gentle but wonderful. 

When they first started kissing, it was urgent. Every kiss was full of importance, full of words they hadn’t said, full of moments they had missed out on; full of anger and sadness and lust and hatred and betrayal and forgiveness and begging and demanding and everything. They couldn’t touch each enough or at all, it was like sticking your hand in a bath that’s too hot, like gripping an ice cube until it eats into your flesh. It was all too much and they nearly collapsed under the weight of it all.

But they didn’t. 

Now they kiss in the moment. Lazily in bed when they wake up, and briefly when they leave the Bunker without each other, and playfully when they tease each other, and defiantly when people give them bitchy stares, and desperately when they’re drunkenly stripping each other, hungry for each other’s skin. They learnt to be Dean and Cas, this new Dean and Cas that, as it turns out, isn’t all that different from what they had all along. 

The kissing is definitely an improvement though.

They set up for the movie marathon silently, working around each other in perfect synchronicity, hands brushing, shoulders bumping, content with the smallest reassurances of each other’s continued existence. By the time that the others appear, laden with food, the pair are back to making out on the couch. 

“There are children present,” Eileen says loudly, making them jump apart. “Schooch!”  

It takes a second to notice what’s going on, but Sam’s stupid grin is what makes Dean pay attention. 

“No, no way, absolutely not!”

“C’mon! It’s fun!”

“You’re idiots,” he says and signs. “No.” 

“Cas, you know you wanna,” Sam wiggles his eyebrows. “You’d look great in them.”

Cas looks between Dean’s scowl and Jack’s smile for a second before giving in. “Hand them over.”

“Cas! You’re supposed to be on my side!”

He sighs. “You’ll understand when you’re a father, Dean.”

“Hey-“ Dean jumps up after him. “What do you mean, when I’m a father, you brought me two whole ass kids that I-“ They disappear down the hall to get changed and he gets cut off. 

When they come back, Cas is beaming and Dean is failing not to do the same. The onesies are teddy-bear fleece, red and white fair-isle style with a reindeers and Christmas trees and candy canes, and ridiculously cutesy. The fact they’re all wearing one makes Dean want to throw up until he actually sees them all together: this is his family, one that he was never supposed to have, and yet, here they are. His throat stings and he scrunches up his face to try and stop the tears before they’ve even formed, but he catches Cas watching him and knows that he’s been caught out. 

“Dean, come here,” Sam beckons. “Picture.”

“Dude, no way-“ But then Jack is pulling him over to the couch and he’s letting him. “I cannot believe-“

“Shut up and smile,” Eileen says, pushing his shoulder roughly. 

Someone has set up an instant camera, balancing it on books and DVDs until it’s the right height, and they all crowd into where they think the middle of the shot is. On the couch, Eileen sits at an angle against Sam so the camera can pick up her bump, his arm around her; Jack is on the floor by their feet grinning brightly; Dean drops next to him, between Cas’ legs; he rests a hand on Dean’s left shoulder and Dean puts his right hand on top of it. It’s the perfect picture of the frankenstein family and Jack insists on taking more; ones less serious, less perfect, but even better than the first.

Sam dates them all with a sharpie on the white boarder. One will go in the family photo album, the others to be tucked away into wallets and jacket pockets and personal picture frames. Cas snags the one where Dean is looking up at him instead of the camera, completely focussed on his boyfriend. He’s always liked Dean best in the moments that he is unaware of being watched, that’s when he’s the the most beautiful, the most Dean. 

He blushes hard at the picture, but allows Cas his indulgence. 

They get through a lot of food and about two and a half movies before people start to wind down for the night. Lying down for long periods of time is guaranteed to mean that the baby starts up a gymnastics routine, and Eileen lets Jack watch until going to the bathroom becomes imminently required. Her getting up makes everyone else realise that going to bed is a good idea, so they end up switching off the film halfway through and clearing up a little. At least taking the food back to the kitchen so it doesn’t go stale and inedible overnight, stinking up the Den for the foreseeable future (it happens far too often). 

Cas takes Jack to bed, even though he’s God and 1) doesn’t actually need to sleep and 2) probably doesn’t need his (kind of) father to tuck him in. However, his delight at discovering that theyve put sheets on his bed that match his pjs reminds Cas that Jack may be a cosmic being of unfathomable power, but he is still his son. 

“Thank you, Castiel. This is the best Christmas Eve ever, much better than last year because you’re here.”

“I’m glad you feel that way, Jack.”

“It’s difficult being human,” Jack says suddenly. “Even being partly human is tough, and I think you’re doing a great job.”

Cas cracks his knuckles, a new nervous habit that he’s picked up. “Thank you. It gets better everyday, easier; I miss my old self less.”

Jack pats his chest. “I’m taking good care of your Grace, don’t you worry.”

“I have no doubts about that,” Cas smiles, only slightly wistful. There have been many days that he’s wanted to ask Jack for it back, mostly days when Dean gets injured and he cannot do more than silly little human remedies. But it’s better this way. Living a human life with Dean, it’s right. It’s what they both deserve. He hugs Jack tightly before he leaves. “Goodnight, Jack. Merry Christmas.”

On the way back to his and Dean’s room, Cas meets Eileen, a spoon in her mouth. He raises his eyebrows and she puts a finger to her lips.

“Cranberry jam,” she admits. “At least my cravings are seasonally appropriate!”

“I’m not telling if you’re not.”

She winks. “Thanks for making Dean put the pjs on.”

“He loves it really.”

“Not as much as he loves you,” she says it so casually and Cas feels his face burn. “Still?”

“It takes some getting used to… after so long…”

She nods and pulls him into a hug, her bump pushing him away as much as her arms pull him in. The baby kicks against him, a clear foot making contact with his side, which is still surreal to feel to say the least. Before Eileen’s pregnancy, the only time he’d been allowed to touch a pregnant belly was when Kelly put his hand on Jack. It took some getting used to, processing the fact that there was a little person in there, growing and becoming, and in a matter of weeks, it would be out here with the rest of them. 

“Strong.” 

“Oh yeah,” she laughs. “Sleep is getting pretty impossible. But it’s good, strong is what we want.”

“Your child could be nothing less.”

It’s Eileen’s turn to blush. The impending motherhood nerves have been getting harder to handle lately; every time she gets a good kick to the ribs, she’s reminded that there is a real baby in there, and soon it will be in her arms and she’ll have to raise it and make sure that she doesn’t mess them up. She can do that, right? Even though she and Sam lost their parents to hunting, they can do better, right? They can find the balance. The idea of going out on a hunt while her baby sits at home waiting for her makes her heart ache, but she cant imagine never hunting again… Maybe she’ll fall in love with the Men of Letters like Sam and she’ll be happy with researching, perhaps be a consultant like Dean’s considering, but somehow, it doesn’t feel right yet. There’s still so much to prove: that you can be a badass Hunter as a woman, as a Deaf person, and soon, as a mother. But would she really risk losing her family just to prove a point? After everything Sam and Dean went through to make sure she got to live her life at all? There’s so much unknown, but as long as she has this family around her, she can face anything.

“We should get to bed. Merry Christmas,” she goes up on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek and then disappears into her and Sam’s bedroom. 

The quiet of the Bunker is soothing, even though Cas isn’t often up late enough to be the only one - he can never say no to falling asleep in Dean’s arms - he enjoys the solitude. It’s different from being actually alone. He knows that behind the doors, his family slumber peacefully, able to relax and dream of good, hopeful things. The existential horror of constantly fighting for your life abated, at least on a cosmic level; if the idiots around him still want to throw knives at monsters, that’s their prerogative. And he doesn’t even have to pretend to be happy with it. 

He turns off the main lights as he makes his way through the rooms, checking each one out of habit more than an actual need. Soon, he’s bathed in a gentle, colourful glow of the fairy lights, the only illumination left on. He stops by the tree, staring up at the adorned branches, his heart full of a contentment that he used to associate so solely with faith. So strangely similar: the peace he feels knowing that he is loved and that he is able to love back, and the one he felt when he followed God’s commands. But this little family, being part of it, is like a new kind of worship. Now his heart laid down before the altar of love instead of obedience - the difference is he gets something back. Now he knows that when he puts out his hand to hold his God, it will hold him back. 

What would Dean make of him thinking like this? Equating their love to something so intrinsically holy? And on Christmas, of all days. He would mock him, but only out of embarrassment, the continued belief that he is inadequate to be compared to the divine, even though Cas has never met anyone more deserving of the epithet than Dean. 

In their bedroom, Dean is already tucked in bed, reading a battered copy of We that Cas found buried in one of those chaotic secondhand book stalls. He should’ve saved it for Christmas, but Dean’s already halfway through and it gives him a little thrill to know that he did good in picking it, because he knows Dean. 

“Get lost?” He jokes without looking up from his book. “C’mere.”

Cas climbs in and under Dean’s outstretched arm, which he promptly tucks around Cas, pulling him tight into his side. He’s taken off the onsie and is in just his underwear, which is probably for the best considering how they both run hot during the night and always end up kicking the covers off even when they sleep naked. Cas presses small kisses to Dean’s side and chest, not entirely meaning to distract him from his book, but also not being unhappy with that side effect.

‘Something on your mind?” Dean asks playfully. “Could give you an early present, if you like.”

“Mmmm?” He moves up to Dean’s collarbone and throat, sucking a little at the soft flesh, but not quite hard enough to leave a mark. “What kind of present?”

“One you only get if you’ve been good this year.”

“And if I’m on the naughty list?”

Dean looks surprised at Cas’ reply, usually he takes a bit of warming up when it comes to their role-plays. “We- We could go through all the bad things you’ve done… See if can’t figure something out.”

“I think that’s for the best.”

It’s silent in the Bunker. But not empty, not even close. It waited patiently. As it always does. For those who were meant to find it, did. They always do. And for the first time in many years, for the first of many years:

The Winchesters are home for Christmas. 

[kyber-kisses]

Attacked ( Dean x Reader )

Summary: When Dean and the reader leave to go on a supply run things don’t go exactly as planned when a few unfriendly faces decide to show up...

Warnings: Violence ( just the normal spn level stuff)

A/N: I literally just had a dream about this and I woke up and realized it would make a perfect Drabble. I hope you guys like it! ( also I had to write this on mobile so I’m sorry if it looks a bit odd)

One of the very last things you ever expected to be doing on a Friday night was going on a supply run for the bunker. If there were no cases Friday nights were strictly reserved for movie nights. Yet here you were, sliding into the next to Dean, surrounded by what could only be a few dozen grocery bags.

“ so why did you drag me along with you to go get groceries?” You questioned, fiddling with the unopened can of Pringle’s you had just bought.

“ Because y/n it’s my job to make you miserable.” A light smirk crosses his face as he stuck the key into the ignition.

“Haha very funny. . . You know if you had just- I don’t know, not lost at Rock Paper Scissors we would both be back at the bunker right now watching spy movies.” You shrugged, popping a Pringle into your mouth before handing the can over to Dean.

“ How does paper beat rock? How?” He grumbled as the two of you rolled out of the parking lot.

Beyond the tree line the sun was sinking below the horizon, and the last rays of sunlight leaked through the trees, lining them with a border of gold. The sky was already darkening to the east as the first few stars peaked out. The windows were rolled down, letting in the scent of warm summer air.

From the view outside the window you shifted your eyes to look over at the green eyed driver. The street lights flickered across his features and you could see he had a relaxed smile resting on his face. How could you possibly tell Dean Winchester you had feelings for him? The two of you had known each other since you were sixteen. You didn’t want to ruin a friendship like that.

“ what are you looking at?” Dean questioned, shifting his eyes from the road to you, even if it only was for a second.

Shit. He caught you.

“ Oh, just the mass amount of crumbs you have all over your face.” You reached forward to fiddle with the volume.

“Wha-“ you watched as dean quickly reached for the rear view mirror, turning it towards his face.

“Y/n there’s nothing on my face.” He turned to look at you, a hint of annoyance on his features.

“Oh, then it must just have been your freckles.” You shrugged. A smile spread across your face as you heard Dean let out an exasperated gasp.

“You are a savage!”

“ oh but that’s why you love me.” You teased, tilting your head to look at the hunter. What you didn’t expect to see was a light red creeping up his cheeks. Was- was Dean Winchester blushing?

“ We should uh- probably stop and get gas before heading back.” You nodded. Dean peeked down at the gas gauge nodding in agreement.

“Probably wouldn’t hurt.”

The moment you pulled into the gas station you felt something was off. It was an old gas station, sitting on the corner of an empty intersection. You couldn’t see any other buildings near by except the station. You would be caught here dead if you were alone, but Dean was here and that was good enough. The two of you slid out of the impala.

“Here.” You looked over the roof of the impala to see Dean toss you his wallet. “ if you go pay, I’ll fill up.”

You threw a thumbs up before crossing the pavement and entering the convenience store. Knowing it would take a few minutes to fill up, you chose to walk down the isles of crappy junk food. Seeing a bag of gummy bears you snatched it up. They were one of Deans favorites, maybe you could pass it off as an I’m sorry gift for the joke you made in the car. As you turned to head back towards the register you ran right into someone.

“ I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you the-“ you fell short when the person turned around to reveal black eyes. You were caught so off guard you didn’t even have time to defend yourself before a fist came flying into your nose, knocking you back onto the tile floor. The punch was strong enough to jumble your senses and make you fall back into unconsciousness.

Dean leaned back against the side of the impala, breathing in the warm summer night air, and tapping his fingers to the beat of the song playing out of the radio. His mind wandering back to y/n. Y/n with her big y/e/c eyes and crazy sense of humor, not to mention her give em hell attitude. Dean was never one to really speak his feelings, but he would admit ( at least in his head ) that he was completly and totally in love with you.

After another minute or two, Deans eyebrows knitted together. You still hadn’t come out yet. It should have only taken a minute. He turned to look across the parking lot, and at that same moment the windows of the conscience store shattered. Glass scattering across the pavement. That was all that was need to send Dean practically vaulting over the hood of the impala and into a sprint towards the doors. Before he could even reach his hand out for the door, he was slammed onto the ground by not one, but two very burley men who shared the same lifeless black eyes.

“Winchester.” One of the growled. Before Dean could reach for the blade tucked into his belt he was being dragged by the collar through the broken glass and into the store. His eyes frantically scanning for you to make sure you were okay. His heart dropped to his stomachs the moment the third demon rounded one of the isles.

There you were, being dragged across the linoleum tiles by your hair. You were clawing frantically at your attacker’s wrists. You already had a busted lip and your nose was bleeding heavily. Beyond that you had scatches across your arms and legs and the beginnings of a black eye were showing up.

You locked eyes with Dean and froze. For the first time in a long while Dean looked rightfully and properly scared, but why you didn’t understand. Dean wasn’t afraid of demons, he’ll he’d faced the devil himself. So why was he looking at you with such fear?

“ Well, looks like I finally caught me a Winchester, along with his precious little damsel.” The demon gripping your hair chuckled. “ Now if I time this right you’ll get to watch this precious little thing here die choking on her own blood, and then once that’s over I’ll slit your throat and go after sweet little Sammy. How does that sound?”

“You sure do a lot of talking.” You mumbled. You weren’t expecting to get a rule out of any of the demons but once the words left your mouth one of them left Deans side to take another swing at you as the one holding you yanked your hair again.

Dean took his chance and snapped his head back, slamming it into the face of the demon holding him down, who in turn stumbles backwards letting him go. Yanking the blade from his belt he rushed forward, plunging it into the chest of one holding you. In turn he swung his arm back burying it into the others neck. Before he could get to the final one black sample was crawling across the floor and seeping through one of the vents.

“Damn it!” He screamed, kicking a soda van across the floor.

“Dean, it’s fine. It’s gone.” You coughed, attempting to push yourself up from your spot on the floor. Your voice drawing Dean back.

“Y/n!” The hunter rushed forward,kneeling down in front of you. “Are you okay?”

“Ill live. I’ve been through worse.” You breathed. Dean reached up, cupping your cheek in his palm.

“ you scared the hell out of me.” He mumbled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. He pulled back eyes scanning your face and assessing your injuries.

“Let’s get you back to the bunker so I can patch you up.” Hoisting you onto your feet you let out a yelp as you put weight onto your right ankle.

“I think I might have a sprained ankle as well.” You groaned, falling against Deans shoulder.

“ well I guess the only thing I can do is this.” Before you could question him Dean was sweeping you up into his arms, and carrying you out of the convenience store bridal style.

Maybe there was more than just meets the eye.

(A/n: this took awhile to write and I wasn’t sure how to end it but tell me if u guys want a part 2)

[katymacsupernatural]

Something More

Jensen Ackles x Reader

1700 Words

Written For: @spngenrebingo, BTZ Challenge

Squares Filled: Fake Marriage(Genre), Jealous(BTZ)

“Jensen, you could have gone with a smaller ring,” you exclaimed even as you turned your hand to better see the stone in the light. It was a beautiful princess cut, at least two carats, beautifully placed in a rose gold setting. “After all, this is just pretend.”

“If we’re going to do this, we’re going all the way,” He argued, lifting his head up from the lines he was currently reading. The two of you were sitting in the living room of his apartment in downtown Vancouver, the early morning sun shining through the blinds. 

You still couldn’t believe you were here. After being on the show with Jensen and Jared for five years, you had never expected the producers and Jensen to ask you to do this. To pretend to be married to one of your best friends, just for publicity. 

You hadn’t been so sure about it at first. Pretending to be married wasn’t exactly something you thought you could pull off. But Jensen had pleaded with you, saying it would be good for both of you, and you couldn’t say no to those beautiful, pleading green eyes. 

He had given you the ring last night, making you realize how much your life was going to have to change. You stayed the night in his guest room, realizing that you would have to live here while your marriage was in the public eye. They had promised compensation for your cooperation, which didn’t matter as much. You had wanted to help out Jensen, even if it meant pretending to be married to him.

“Tell me again why we had to do this?” You asked, crossing your feet underneath you on the plush suede couch. “Why did you need to be married?”

He rolled his eyes but gave in to your request. “My agents were hinting. It was getting a little past time for me to settle down, and people were beginning to wonder.”

“Wonder what?” I blinked naively, teasing him until he tossed the paper at me. “Listen, I don’t mind helping you, but how long is this going to take?” 

“A month or so. Tops. We’ll act like the perfect couple. We’ll be seen out on dates. Maybe we’ll even do an interview together. That sort of thing. Then we can have a statement in a month or so that says we’ve decided we’re better off friends.” 

“I can do a month or two,” you answered, even though you had already agreed. “But you get cooking detail!”

“That’s fine with me. I have all the nearest take outs on my phone.”

Two months later

The ring sat heavy on your finger as you lifted the wine glass to your lips. It was another Friday night at a fancy house. You couldn’t even remember why you were at this party, but Jensen had assured you that the two of you needed to be there.

Life pretending to be married to Jensen was going much smoother than expected. You had moved all of your items to a storage container. You and Jensen got along quite well, creating a sort of routine that fits both of your routines. 

Except for parties. That’s where you always seemed to differ. Jensen, as one of the head actors of the show, often had to attend parties. To show his face, and as his fake wife, you had to go along with him. At first, it had been hard, with all the people wanting to hear the details about your wedding. But now you stayed by Jensen’s side, drinking alcohol, answering questions when you needed to.

“Y/N, sweetheart, if you’ll excuse me,” Jensen whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple before stepping away. You watched as he walked towards the bar, leaving you standing at the windows to watch the sun sink behind the office buildings.

“The two of you are perfect together,” Maria, one of Supernatural’s publicists exclaimed as she came to stand beside you. “You had been such good friends, I’m glad to see your marriage is staying strong.”

She obviously wasn’t in on the plan, and you were grateful for that. Only you, Jensen, Jared and a handful of other people knew the truth. “We like to still think it’s in the honeymoon phase,” you answered, annoyed that your wine glass was empty. 

“I wish my honeymoon period was as smooth as yours,” she chuckled. “Except my husband does not look like yours.”

“He is handsome, isn’t he?” You agreed, watching as he stopped to talk to a woman at the bar. 

“There are a lot of women who are jealous of you,” she agreed, following your gaze. “Oh, that’s his ex!” 

“His ex?” You repeated. “You mean Danneel?” 

“Yeah, I wonder what she’s doing here. But don’t you worry. He’s much better off with you than with her.” 

With those words she left you standing there, your glass empty, your heart strangely hollow. You watched as Danneel leaned closer to Jensen, placing her hand on his arm. He stared down at her, but from this far away, you couldn’t read his look.

You had no right to be jealous, but that’s what was simmering in your blood. Jealousy that your fake husband could be flirting with his ex. It made your stomach hurt, knowing that neither of you could act on anything like that because of the commitment you had made. 

Taking the longest route away from Jensen and his ex, you came to the end of the bar. Ignoring the wine, you ordered a shot of whiskey, downing it before order a double. From this point you could see the two of them talking, their heads close, her hand still on his arm. They looked every bit head over heels for each other.  Frowning, you took your drink, heading to the balcony, needing air to clear your head. To remind you that he wasn’t yours, and never would be. He was a friend, nothing more. This would all be over in another month or so, and you would be free to live your life, as would he. 

“Y/N? Everything okay?” Jensen called out, easily finding you at the corner of the balcony. Your drink was still in your hand, and he stared down at it in surprise. “Is that whiskey?”

You nodded, taking a sip of the bitter liquid, hating the way it burnt as it went down. “Y/N, you never drink whiskey. What’s going on?”

You couldn’t tell him the truth. That you felt jealous because he was talking to his ex. You had no hold on him, and he had no idea about the stupid school girl crush you’ve had on him since day one. When you didn’t answer, he sighed. “Y/N, I know you better then you think. You have whiskey, and you’re hiding out on the balcony. Talk to me. Please,” he pleaded.

The little bit of alcohol you had already downed was turning your thoughts fuzzy, and you could feel a tear trickle down your cheek, shocking both you and Jensen. “I can’t do this anymore,” you whispered. 

He didn’t blink an eye. “This party? We can leave at any moment, you just need to let me know.”

You shook your head. “No, this marriage. I know I promised, but Jensen, I think it’s gone on long enough.” 

Your words had him stepping back, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “If that’s the way you feel, then we can get figure this out. I don’t want you miserable.”

“Thank you,” you sighed, even though his agreement had you feeling horrible. 

“But why the sudden change?” He asked. “I thought everything was going so well, and then you bring this up out of the blue.”

Sniffling back more tears, you reached up, cupping his cheek. “Jensen, I saw you with her. Your ex. And I hate knowing that our fake relationship is keeping you from finding the person you would rather give this ring to. I’m just tired of living a fake life. Of…,” your words trailed off.

“Dee?” He asked, seeming surprised. “Y/N, there is nothing but friendship between Danneel and I. We ended things amicably, and she was telling me that she’s engaged. It’s not her I want to be with.”

“Oh,” you whispered, wishing there was a chair you could sink in to. “Listen, I’m just tired, and I...I think I’ll just call a cab,” you muttered, moving past him to head home. 

He reached out, grasping your arm, stopping you. “Y/N, I don’t think you heard me. It’s not her I want to be with.”

“No, I heard you. Does that mean you’ve found someone else?” You sniffed. 

“Yes,” the one simple word was like a knife to your heart. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, wishing he would get this torment over with. 

“This woman,” he continued. “I’ve considered her my best friend for a long time. She knows me better than anyone, even Jared. She loves staying up late watching horror movies, hiding behind a blanket as she does. She likes classic rock and I have to fight her to drive. She takes too long in the bathroom but never says a word when I accidentally burn dinner. She’s my biggest supporter, and I can’t imagine life without her by my side.”

You stared up at him, wondering if you were dreaming. Because everything he was saying was about you. But...you reached over, pinching yourself just to see. “Jensen, this...you can’t mean...but…,”

He smiled then, closing the space between the two of you, reaching up to brush his thumb against your cheek. “Y/N, this was a fake marriage. A plan to keep my public image in tack. But having you by my side made me realize I want so much more. But only if it’s with you.” 

“Jensen, I…,” you couldn’t find the words. “I didn’t realize it until I saw you talking to Danneel. But I was jealous. Because even though this is fake, my heart considers it real.”

“What do you say? We turn this fake marriage into a real one?” He asked, and you nodded, throwing your arms around him.

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[setaripendragon]

Trapped in the Amber - 1x04

Book 1 :: 01 - 02 - 03 - 04 So this has always been one of my favourite episodes. Charlie (SPN has such a problem with reusing names, oh well) is an amazing character, and she’s going to get a recurring role in this story, because I said so. Also, for once, I get to make the (dis)claimer that the opinions expressed herein by the characters (specifically about Charlie’s ‘secret’) are absolutely the views of the author, and I projected like hell all over this chapter ^^” (Some things really needed to be said outright and just weren’t in this episode and I’m still mad about it.)

Toledo, Ohio – Saturday 14th January 2006

“Now, the newspapers said his daughter found him. She said his eyes were bleeding.” Sam says.

“More than that.” The assistant replies with an indecent level of glee as he drew the sheet back away from the corpse. “They practically liquefied.”

Meira has to fight not to pull a face at the state the man’s face is in. If it weren’t for the lack of scorch marks, she would have thought… Well. There are no scorch marks. She’s honestly completely stumped by this, which doesn’t happen to her often. Angelic memory means she doesn’t really forget things, but unlike the angels that were created before time began, she does have to experience them first. And this? This is brand new to her.

“Any sign of a struggle? Like maybe somebody did it to him?” Dean asks.

“Nope. Besides the daughter he was all alone.” The assistant replies.

Which doesn’t really mean much when a good half of what they hunt is incorporeal, but it does at least rule out the other half. Maybe. She doesn’t think she’s going to be much help here. She lets the conversation about skulls full of blood and exploding eyeballs pass her by, and valiantly restrains a snort when the assistant makes them bribe him again.

She can’t really complain about his morals when their next stop is crashing a funeral. It’s the eeriest thing Meira’s ever seen, and she almost freezes in the doorway. She thought she was getting used to having her grace bound, to not being able to see people’s souls, to not knowing who they are, but this is just not something she’s prepared for. There’s no emotion here.

She knows there is, of course, knows that these people are feeling just as deeply as those at any other funeral she’s ever seen, but she can’t feel it, eddies of grief and sorrow heavy around her. It’s just air, hollow and empty and sickening. Swallowing hard, she follows Sam and Dean into the house, and then out back when a helpful old man points out the daughters. Meira hovers, watching Sam and Dean reassure the younger daughter that her father’s death wasn’t her fault.

Meira decides to stay downstairs while Sam and Dean go to poke around where the guy actually died. It’s a little easier for two people to be inconspicuous than three, after all, and she wants to talk to Donna and Lily a little more. She knows what it’s like to lose a parent suddenly, after all, even if hers aren’t dead. She coaxes Lily out of her guilt and gets her talking about school and her friends, and Donna gives her a painfully grateful look that Meira returns with an understanding smile.

Toledo, Ohio – Sunday 15th January 2006

Meira foregoes sleep to help with the research, but even after Sam passes out, they get nowhere. “Here’s something- Never mind.” Dean says. “Her name was Laura.” He rolls his eyes.

“Middle name?” Meira asks, because at this point, she’s grasping at straws.

Dean makes a thoughtful face and checks. “Middle name Nichole.” He reports, throwing the papers down with disgust. He stares at them for long enough that Meira goes back to ploughing through her own stack of records, so she’s startled when he asks “Hey, is Meira some sort of derivative of Mary?”

“No, actually.” Meira answers slowly, a little confused. “It’s Hebrew. It means ‘god’s light’ or ‘one who illuminates’. Mary is English, although it comes from the Hebrew name Miriam, which means ‘bitterness’.”

“Huh.” Dean grunts, and then, at her continuing look of confusion, shrugs. “Just curious. Never heard that name before.” He points out.

“Qaada picked it.” Meira tells him on impulse, and then wishes she’d just kept her mouth shut. She’s still not sure how much of her life she ought to share with him, really. It feels a little like she’s stealing from him somehow. One day, he’s going to be holding a baby in his arms, and he’s not going to tell Qaada to name her because it just feels like the right thing to do, he’s going to do it because he knows that’s how it’s supposed to happen.

Dean blinks. “Is Qaada Hebrew for ‘dad’ or something?” He asks.

“Close enough.” Meira agrees, which is as close as she can get to saying yes without outright lying.

Dean is distracted from questioning her further when Sam wakes up with a gasp. “Why’d you let me fall asleep?” He asks, voice raspy and hollowed out.

“Cause I’m an awesome brother.” Dean retorts. “So what’d you dream about?”

“Lollipops and candy canes.” Sam answers, completely flat.

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Sure.”

“You find anything?” Sam asks, when Dean doesn’t offer up an alternative topic of conversation. Dean catches him up on their complete lack of anything substantial, and Meira looks back down at her stack of papers.

“Whatever’s happening here, maybe it just ain’t Mary.” Dean suggests.

“Or maybe it’s new.” Meira offers, only to be interrupted by Sam’s phone ringing. Dean arches an eyebrow at her while Sam locates his phone, and Meira shrugs. “Look, you said yourself that this myth isn’t particularly rigid. There’s a lot of variations.” She points out as Sam answers his phone. Dean nods. “Well, then, maybe this is just another variation. Maybe her spirit went dormant for some reason, and we don’t have records far enough back? Maybe she’s not actually dead, she’s in a coma, or she’s a potential psychic with a fuck-tonne of issues?” Meira gestures vaguely in the air to indicate an entire world of possibilities, and Dean pulls a duck-face of annoyed acceptance.

“That was Charlie.” Sam says, flipping his phone closed. “She said there’s something she thinks we need to hear about.”

“Charlie?” Meira asks, although she’s already putting the records aside and grabbing up her coat.

“One of Donna’s friends.” Dean tells her, grabbing his keys and starting for the door. “She caught us checking out the bathroom and threatened to scream if we didn’t tell her the truth about who we are and what we were doing there.”

“Oh, awesome. I like her.” Meira announces in delight.

Dean snorts. “Yeah, she was pretty freaking ballsy.”

“I told her to call us if she saw or heard anything weird or unusual.” Sam adds as they climb into the Impala. “She sounded really freaked out on the phone.”

The meet Charlie on a public green, and she tells them about Jill’s death in between trying not to cry. About half way through the explanation, Meira gives in, sits down beside her, and puts an arm around her shoulders. Charlie glances at her, tries for a smile that doesn’t really work, and finishes up her explanation. “And they found her on the bathroom floor, and, uh- her- her eyes, they were- g-gone.”

“I’m sorry.” Sam murmurs.

“And she said it.” Charlie adds in a rush, as though pushing herself to get the words out before she falters. “I heard her say it. But it couldn’t be because of that. I’m- insane, right?” It’s almost a plea.

Meira remembers what happened last time she dropped that bomb on someone, and looks to Sam, eyebrows raised. This time, she’s leaving it up to him so he can’t bite her head off later. Sam looks back, lips pursed and resignation written all over his face.

“No, you’re not insane.” Dean says, when neither Meira or Sam move to actually reassure the girl.

“Oh, god.” Charlie breathes. “That makes me feel so much worse.”

Meira gives her a comforting squeeze. “At least now you know there is an explanation.” She points out, and Charlie looks at her with her brow all crumpled up in distress and confusion. “People aren’t just dropping dead for no reason. Something is doing this, and we can stop it.” Charlie does seem to take some comfort in that, sniffling and nodding.

“We could use your help with that.” Dean adds, and after a moment of wide-eyed staring, Charlie nods again.

Then she helps them break into a teenage girl’s room. A dead teenage girl’s room, but still. Ballsy as hell. Sam asks her how she managed to get the room to herself, and she explains the lie she spun for Jill’s mom. “I hate lying to her.” She mutters.

“But you’re good at it.” Meira comments, and Charlie shoots her a stricken look. Meira winces. “That was meant to be a compliment, I swear. You’re confident, not just ‘you know how to act confident’, but you knew what you needed to do, and you did it, no matter how distasteful. Takes a strong person to hold onto that sort of conviction.”

“Oh, I guess.” Charlie hedges, shrinking in on herself a little. “I just don’t want anybody else to get hurt, that’s all.” Meira gives her a pointed smile, and waits for her to realise all by herself exactly what she just said. Charlie blushes when she catches up.

“So I don’t get it.” Sam says suddenly while checking the mirror for ectoplasmic residue. “I mean, the first victim didn’t summon Mary, and the second victim did. How’s she choosing them?”

“Beats me.” Dean replies, then glances at Charlie. “I want to know why Jill said it in the first place.”

“It was just a joke.” Charlie says, uncomfortable and defensive.

“A joke?” Meira echoes incredulously.

Charlie looks at her and then away. “We were talking on the phone, and she- I don’t know, she thought it was funny that I was… that I thought it might have been something…” She trails off uncomfortably.

“She was mocking you.” Meira realises, unimpressed.

“No!” Charlie says at once, and then falters. “Well, maybe a little, but… God, it would have been kind of funny if it wasn’t real.” She complains, wrapping her arms around herself and looking miserable.

Meira has her doubts about that, but she doesn’t voice them. “Yeah, well,” Dean sounds sceptical too, but he doesn’t push the subject either, “somebody’s going to say it again, it’s just a matter of time.” He points out ominously.

“Hey.” Sam says, leaning out of the bathroom. “There’s a blacklight in the trunk, right?”

They get the blacklight, and find a name written on the back of the bathroom mirror. Meira’s going to go out on a limb here and say that’s probably a clue. So then it’s off to the library to research the name, and Charlie tags along. This turns out to be a good thing when she figures out the connection between Jill and the name Mary had written on the girl’s mirror.

“We need to go back to your friend Donna’s house.” Dean says, and off they go.

Finding the man’s wife’s name on the back of the mirror is kind of sickening, and Donna clearly doesn’t like the implications of their questions, either. “Yeah, Linda’s my mom, okay? And she overdosed on sleeping pills. It was an accident and that’s it.” She insists. The silence following that pronouncement is damning, and Donna can hear it too. “I think you should leave.”

“Do you really believe that?” Meira asks, before she can push the issue.

Donna rounds on her, furious and scared. “What are you trying to say?!”

“I’m saying that even if you’re right, and she took those pills herself, I’d really like to know why she was taking enough to risk an overdose.” Meira points out calmly.

Donna blanches. “No.” She insists. “No, stop it. My dad’s dead, and you-”

“Sins don’t get erased by death.” Meira counters. Donna lets out a choked sob, shaking her head in denial, but Meira holds her gaze and refuses to let her. After a brief struggle with herself, Donna breaks down into tears, and Meira carefully draws her into a hug, checking every step of the way that Donna wants the comfort.

After several awkward minutes, Dean clears his throat. “You gonna be okay here if we head back to the motel?” He asks Meira. “I think we’ve got some research to do.”

“Yeah.” Meira assures him. Dean and Sam linger awkwardly a moment longer, then go.

Meira and Charlie eventually manage to herd Donna into the living room, get her sitting down with a glass of water and some tissues, and let her cry it out. “My dad wouldn’t-!” comes out several times, followed by more tears. Meira doesn’t bother to point out that if Donna had been certain of that, she wouldn’t be this upset by the notion.

Eventually, she cries herself out, and Charlie suggests putting on a movie. Donna nods listlessly, so Charlie bounds up and sticks on a cartoon that Donna gives her a judging look for. Charlie looks away. “I didn’t think a rom-com would be the best idea right now.” She points out quietly, and Donna looks away, something caught between rage and grief on her face.

Five minutes into the movie, Donna curls up around a cushion and falls asleep, obviously worn out by her grief. Meira and Charlie share a look over her, and then stay right where they are. Donna’s alone enough already, they’re not going to leave her to wake up alone, too. Charlie goes to get a blanket, and Meira refills the glass of water, ready for when Donna wakes up.

The movie is almost over when Meira’s phone rings, and she fishes it out, expecting it to be Sam or Dean. It’s not, it’s Haley. Eyebrows rising, Meira answers. “Hey, what’s up?” She asks lightly.

“Hey.” Haley answers, weirdly hesitant. Meira’s just about to ask what’s wrong more seriously, when Haley abruptly blurts out “How do you tell if a house is haunted?”

Ah. Meira has to grin a little, and gets up to wander into the kitchen so that she’s not interrupting the movie for Charlie. “My first stop would be checking for EMF. Get a reader, scan the place, and if it goes off like you’re standing next to a wireless router when you’re not, you’ve probably got a ghost. Why?”

“A friend of mine, she’s just moved into this new house, and… things keep moving about on their own, and she keeps getting into accidents. She’s a gymnast, she’s not that clumsy.” Haley insists.

“Sounds like it could maybe be a poltergeist.” Meira tells her, grimacing.

“Poltergeist? That’s different from a ghost?” Haley asks, sounding a touch incredulous.

“Yeah. Ghosts are people who refused to move on for one reason or another, but since human souls aren’t meant to linger without a body to protect them, they tend to… degrade over time, even if they’re not vengeful to start with. Poltergeists are… accumulations of energy. Usually negative, but I did find a poltergeist in a hospital, once, that manifested because of a bunch of miraculous recoveries. It went around healing people.”

“Oh, wow.” Haley says, and she sounds like she’s smiling, just a little bit. “So, how do I tell the difference, and what do I do about it once I know?” She asks, getting back to the practical issues without missing a beat. Meira really wishes she’d gotten the chance to kiss her.

“It can be a bit hit and miss telling the difference.” Meira admits with a grimace. “If it’s a ghost, it’s probably someone who died there, or who lived there for a really long time. You’ll have to find out who, and then salt and burn their bones.”

There’s an indrawn breath, and then Haley lets the breath out slowly. “That’s disgusting.” She announces, sounding more matter-of-fact than outright disgusted.

Meira snorts. “Yeah, it is.” She agrees, then sobers up a little. “Look, we’re in the middle of a job right now, but if you want we can come by once we’ve sorted this out and see if we can help?” She offers.

“No. It’s fine.” Haley assures her. “There’s no reason I can’t do it myself. I’m not that squeamish.” She announces, and Meira’s fond grin is back. “So, if it’s a ghost, salt and burn the bones, but if it’s a poltergeist?” Haley challenges.

“Poltergeists are more difficult. You’ll need a purification ritual, or a hell of a lot of the exact opposite kind of metaphysical energy to cancel it out, but that’s basically impossible unless you have a psychic about to tell you what kind of poltergeist it is. If you’ve got a pen, I can give you a basic recipe.”  She offers.

“Hang on a minute,” Haley says, and then, once she’s presumably found herself a pen, “go on.” So Meira does, listing out the herbs and other ingredients needed, and adding in the instructions of how to purify a house. “Okay, thanks.” Haley says once she’s done. “Now how do I figure out which it is?”

“Best guess?” Meira offers, and Haley makes an annoyed sound. “Uh, poltergeists don’t tend to cause cold spots. If you ever see a human-like apparition, it’s a ghost. If it is a poltergeist, and it’s already trying to hurt someone, there will be some sort of atrocity in the history of the place to cause it.”

“Alright.” Haley agrees. “I’ll figure it out.”

“You took on a wendigo. Poltergeists aren’t gonna phase you.” Meira reminds her fondly.

Haley laughs. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

They say quick goodbyes, and then Meira hangs up and turns to go back into the living room, only to find Charlie leaning in the doorway, her eyes a bit wide. “All that stuff is really out there, isn’t it?” Charlie asks, sounding dazed.

Meira nods. “Yeah. And a hell of a lot more, besides.”

“God.” Charlie breathes, closing her eyes. “That’s terrifying.”

“It’s the same world you were living in yesterday.” Meira reminds her. Charlie gives her a look, and Meira shrugs. “Look, if you want someone to pretend it’s all a ghost story and there’s no monsters under the bed, you’ve got the wrong girl. Try giving Sam a call.” She advises dryly.

“I don’t want that.” Charlie insists straight away, and then sighs. “It’s just scary, that’s all.”

“Yeah.” Meira agrees.

“And you just… go around looking for it?” Charlie asks abruptly, incredulous. Meira shrugs and nods, and Charlie gapes at her. “Why?”

It’s a good question. Meira’s never lived the true hunter lifestyle before. Sure, she’s gone on the occasional hunt with her dad, and she’s run into more than her fair share of monsters, but that wasn’t because she’d gone looking for them. They’d all come looking for her. And now she’s only tagging along with Sam and Dean because she has nowhere else in the world to belong. So instead of answering for herself, she thinks about some of the things her dad has said about why he hunts. “Because someone has to.” She settles on finally. “There are monsters out there, Charlie, and someone needs to stop them before they hurt any more people. Most people don’t even believe they’re real, and so they don’t know how to protect themselves. So we protect them.”

Charlie nods slowly, staring at the floor and chewing on her lower lip. Meira gives her the time she needs to process, and is impressed when she suddenly looks up, steel in her eyes. “Teach me.” She says. “That’s what you were doing, wasn’t it? With whoever was on the phone. Teaching them how to protect themselves. I don’t want to die because I didn’t know better than to avoid something.”

Meira beams at her, inordinately proud of her for even thinking of it, never mind outright asking. “Sure. I probably won’t be sticking around long enough to do more than give you the bare basics, but if you give me your number, you can text me any questions you have.” She offers, and Charlie nods. So they exchange numbers, and then they sit down to talk about the most basic protections, the most common supernatural problems, and what to do about them.

Toledo, Ohio – Monday 16th January 2006

They’re on the way back from Fort Wayne when Charlie calls Meira. She’s expecting questions about what they talked about yesterday, what she gets instead is a desperate sob and a whispered “Oh, God, she’s here,” that sends a chill down her spine.

“Charlie?” Meira calls, sitting bolt upright in the back seat.

“Bloody Mary, she’s- Donna said it, and- and she’s coming for me.” Charlie blurts out in a rush, voice shaking, followed by a whimper.

“What’s going on?” Dean demands.

“Okay, Charlie, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to sit down, take a breath, and close your eyes.” Meira orders, keeping her voice as calm as she can. In the front, Dean swears, and floors the gas pedal. “Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yeah.” Charlie stammers.

“Good. Now, tell me where you are, and we’ll come get you.” Meira instructs.

“Outside school.” Charlie breathes. “I- I saw her in- she’s everywhere. In- in windows and the t-teacher’s glasses.”

Well, that’s not terrifying at all. Jesus.  “That’s why you’re keeping your eyes closed, okay.” Meira soothes. “Now, are you somewhere public? Will other people see you and try to move you?”

“N-no. There’s a- an alley, between two of the houses across the street. No windows, so I-”

“Good, that was smart.” Meira compliments. “Do you think you can tell me how this happened? Why on earth did Donna say it?”

She hears Charlie take a deep, shuddering breath. “She- she was asking about… about why- why you guys were asking about- about her mom, and she- I tried to explain, but she got so mad, she said- said that you’d ‘made her think all that awful stuff’ for no reason, and how dare I go along with-” Charlie cuts off her explanation with a sob, and Meira murmurs a few soothing encouragements. “I told her it wasn’t for no reason, that- that she had gone after her dad instead of Lily for a reason, and she scoffed, and- and then she said it, like-”

“Like she was proving it wasn’t real.” Meira concludes, thinking, uncharitably, that Donna Shoemaker deserves a trickster’s attention for that. Grief or no grief, it’s a shitty thing to risk a friend’s life just to maintain your own blissfully ignorant illusion. And of course, they’re going to make damn sure Mary doesn’t kill Charlie, and so Donna is going to go on thinking she’s vindicated herself. Oh, yeah, Meira really wants to set Pabbi on her.

Biting back her anger, Meira puts her hand over the bottom of her phone to ask Dean “How long?”

“Fifteen minutes.” Dean says grimly.

Meira nods, and goes back to reassuring Charlie. She keeps her on the phone the whole time, talking her through the panic. Once they get back to Toledo, she alternates between reassurances to Charlie and directions to Dean. They pick Charlie up, and Meira guides her into the car while making sure she keeps her eyes closed. Then they take her back to the motel and do their best to cover up every reflective surface in Meira’s room.

Sam sits next to Charlie on the bed while Dean throws a towel over the TV, and Meira tacks up a sheet over the stupid frosted glass divider that serves absolutely no purpose but to be annoying in a situation like this. Meira honestly contemplated just smashing it. “Hey.” Sam says once Meira’s done. “Hey, it’s okay. You can open up your eyes, Charlie. It’s okay. Alright. Now listen. You’re going to stay right here, on this bed, and you’re not going to look at glass, or anything else that has a reflection, okay? Now, as long as you do that, she cannot get you.”

“But I can’t keep that up forever.” Charlie retorts, quiet but certain. “I’m going to die, aren’t I?”

“No.” Sam insists. “No, not anytime soon.”

Meira goes to sit next to Charlie, crawling right into the middle of the bed and putting an arm around her. “We’re going to stop her, Charlie.” She adds, and when Charlie looks at her imploringly, she gives her a reassuring smile. “Remember? This is what we do.” Swallowing hard, Charlie nods, and sits a little straighter.

“Alright, Charlie.” Dean says, perching on the end of the bed. “We need to know what happened.”

“We were in the bathroom, Donna said-” Charlie begins.

“That’s not what we’re talking about.” Dean interrupts. “Something happened, didn’t it? In your life. A secret. Someone got hurt.” Charlie blinks and sends tears cascading down onto her cheeks. Dean shares a look with Sam before pressing on, gentler than before. “Can you tell us about it?”

Charlie’s lip starts trembling, but when she starts talking, her voice is strong. “I had this boyfriend. I loved him, but he kinda scared me too, you know? And, one night, at his house, we got in this fight. And I broke up with him. And he got upset, and he said he needed me, and he loved me. And he said ‘Charlie, if you walk out that door right now, I’m going to kill myself.’ And do you know what I said? I said ‘go ahead’ and I left.”

“Good.” Meira says it before she can stop herself, and is aware of everyone’s eyes snapping to her in shock. God, she’s actually a little glad, for once, that Jace isn’t here, because if she’s this angry, Jace probably would go and find Charlie’s ex’s soul, and if he isn’t there already, deliver him directly to Hell, personally.

“What?” Charlie breathes.

Meira looks at her, and sees all the pain and guilt she’s been carrying around because of some asshole who tried to make his own life and his own choices her responsibility. “Charlie, his life was not your responsibility, and he had no right to lay that on you.”

“But I-” Charlie begins, and then falters.

“No, listen to me.” Meira insists, kneeling up and turning Charlie to face her fully. “That was his choice to make, not yours. He tried to chain you to him by making you feel responsible for his life and his actions, and you were right to do what you needed to, to free yourself. Just because his threat was aimed at himself, instead of someone else you love, doesn’t make it any less a threat. The fact that he followed through because you didn’t give him what he wanted is on him, not on you.”

“I-” Charlie says again, and then her expression crumples, and she starts to cry in earnest. “I didn’t want him to die.” She says, desperate.

Meira pulls her into her arms. “I know. It’s not your fault.”

“She’s right, it’s not.” Dean adds. Then he clears his throat, a hard, almost angry look on his face, and gets up. “Right, let’s go gank this bitch already.” He says, and Sam gets up immediately. Dean glances at Meira when she doesn’t move. “Meira?”

“I’ll stay here with Charlie.” Meira replies. “Keep her safe.”

“No.” Charlie says quietly, voice ragged. “You should go. It’s not like there’s anything you can- can really do here, anyway.”

Meira looks at her, impressed again by the strength in her. “I can keep you company.” She points out. “That’s important, too. Sam and Dean can handle this bitch, no problem.” She points out, and Charlie almost manages a smile, ducking her head in a way that’s not quite a nod, but that Meira takes as agreement anyway. She’s not leaving Charlie to sit here, alone in a dark room, with nothing to do but contemplate her douchebag ex and her impending death. No way.

“Hell yeah we can.” Dean agrees before heading out the door with Sam on his heels.

Toledo, Ohio – Tuesday 17th January 2006

Once it’s all over, Meira takes Charlie shopping. She tells Sam and Dean she wants to do something nice for her after the last few days, and Sam and Dean agree to leave that evening, instead of in the morning. They don’t have another hunt lined up yet anyway, so there’s no trouble with taking a day of down-time. She doesn’t tell them that it’s not clothes they’re shopping for. Well, not just clothes. They do get Charlie a nice leather jacket and some jeans that are easier to move in than her usual.

They go to a jewellery store and commission an anti-possession charm. Charlie will have to pick it up herself in a couple of weeks time, but it’s on its way, and that seems to make her feel better. They buy meters and meters of plastic tubing and a giant bag of rock-salt from a hardware store, along with a pocket knife, and then go poking around a dozen antique stores until they find a pure iron fire poker and a sterling silver cutlery set. They also buy her a rosary, along with a bottle of water that Meira blesses for her.

“I thought you needed to be ordained to make holy water.” Charlie remarks as they’re leaving the store, considering her new rosary with a slightly pinched expression.

“You might.” Meira acknowledges with a shrug. She honestly has no idea if just her blessing, without her grace being able to reach out and touch Charlie’s soul, would be enough, but Charlie certainly has it. “But best to have a rosary on hand anyway, just in case. Besides, as long as you’re careful, that bottle could last you forever.” Charlie looks at the simple one litre bottle, and then arches a sceptical eyebrow at Meira. “No, really.” Meira assures her, grinning. “Add more water and it becomes holy water, too. As long as you have some left, you can make it last forever.”

While they’re searching thrift stores for a decent rug with a pentacle on it, Charlie’s phone rings. She takes one look at the display, and her expression closes off. “Who-?” Meira asks softly.

“Donna.” Charlie answers, then takes a breath, and answers it, but doesn’t speak first.

Meira unashamedly boosts her hearing to eavesdrop. “…Charlie?”

“Yeah?” Charlie answers, level, not cold, but not overly warm, either.

“Oh, thank god.” Donna sighs. “Your mom called, she said you didn’t come home last night, and I heard that you’d freaked out at school yesterday.” She explains. “You’re okay, right?” Charlie’s lips thin and her jaw works as she tries several times to speak, and fails each time. “Charlie?” Donna prompts, voice going high with worry.

“Why do you care?” Charlie suddenly bursts out.

“What?” Donna replies, and then, after a beat. “Oh my god, Charlie, just because we had a fight yesterday doesn’t mean I want you to- to have some sort of episode and throw yourself in front of a car or something! Jesus!”

“You nearly got me killed yesterday!” Charlie retorts loudly, and then casts an embarrassed look around. Thankfully, there’s no one else in the store except the clerk, and they’re studiously pretending not to be able to hear anything.

“No, I didn’t. It’s not real, Charlie.” Donna retorts scornfully.

“The only reason I’m not lying in a pool of my own blood with my eyes gouged out just like your dad-” Donna sucks in a sharp breath. “-is because those ‘freaks’ risked their lives to save me. You-” Charlie cuts herself off and closes her eyes.

Donna scoffs. “If that’s true, who did you kill?” She bites out.

Charlie flinches, like she was no doubt meant to. Meira puts a hand on her arm, and when Charlie’s eyes flick up to meet hers, she says quietly “It doesn’t need to be a secret. You didn’t do anything wrong. But you don’t owe her anything, either.”

Charlie nods once, takes a shaking breath, and says “Did you know that Mark threatened to kill himself if I broke up with him?” in a surprisingly even tone, even though her eyes have gone glassy with unshed tears. “I broke up with him anyway.”

Donna is silent for a very, very long time. “Wow, what a dick.” She says finally, and Charlie laughs like it’s been startled out of her. She sniffs once and wipes at her eyes. There’s another, shorter silence. “I suppose you think this means that Lily is to blame for our dad’s death, then, huh?” She asks, bitterly angry and scared underneath.

“Oh my god, Donna, no. Lily was playing a stupid game with her friends, she didn’t know it was dangerous.” There’s a pause, and then Charlie adds, viciously, “You did. I told you it was dangerous, and you did it anyway, even though you knew it wasn’t just your own life on the line.”

Another silence. “What do you want me to say?” Donna asks resentfully.

“That you’re sorry?!” Charlie bursts out. “That you won’t do it again?! That you understand that, oh my god, even if you still don’t believe me, I believe it, and it’s a shitty thing to do to scare me just to, what? I don’t even know. And that if I tell you ‘hey, maybe don’t do that, it’s dangerous’ again, next time, you’ll listen?!”

“Yeah. Okay.” Donna says quietly.

Charlie waits. Donna doesn’t say anything else. “Well?!” Charlie snaps.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry, okay?!” Donna snaps back.

Meira wonders if maybe now would be a good opportunity to test out manifesting her wings. Perhaps a little solid proof would go a long way to improving Donna’s attitude. She’s still debating whether it’s a good idea or not when Charlie sighs. “Yeah, okay.” She says tiredly. “See you Monday, Donna.”

“Yeah, see you.” Donna agrees, and then Charlie hangs up on her. She stands there, staring at her phone for several minutes, looking torn and upset.

“I could probably show her proof, if you want.” Meira offers.

Charlie visibly thinks about it, but then shakes her head. “No. I don’t know. She’s made it pretty clear she doesn’t want to know, hasn’t she?”

Meira tips her head in acknowledgement of that, and then lets the subject drop. “Come on, Buffy, we’ve got rugs to buy.” She says instead, and Charlie snorts at the nickname, but she looks pleased, too, and Meira takes that as a win.

[hotforharrison]

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream ch 7

Chapter 6 <-- Series Masterlist --> Chapter 8

Pairing: Tom Holland/Reader

Summary: He’d been in your dreams almost your whole life, but was it real?

Word Count: 1,715

Warnings: Language, smut and some tears.

A/N: Today is extra bonus day! I posted a oneshot, AND updated both of my series. Celebrate my insomnia!

You found yourself back in the White Room with Tom, both of you still nude. That hadn’t stopped being strange yet. Strange, but definitely not unwelcome. He was gorgeous, and you loved just looking at him in a way you hadn’t had the chance to before.

He got on the bed and patted the spot next to him. You sat down beside him, your bare thigh touching his, and grabbed his hand to hold in yours.

“You look surprised,” he commented, interlacing his fingers with yours.

“I thought meeting you in person might have broken the White Room, like the entire purpose was to bring us together, and it would just...stop after it fulfilled that,” you told him.

“Apparently not.” He shrugged. “It will be strange to wake up next to you, though, instead of by myself.”

“I always hated waking up alone after spending the night with you here, especially after I started boarding school.” You really didn’t want to go back to the life you now unfortunately led.

“We still have two whole days, and after that, we’ll figure something out,” he promised.

“What else is there to do, other than go back there and face the fact that I left campus and skipped a couple days worth of classes without permission?”

You weren’t prepared for the meeting you were going to have with the dean and probably your parents, but you doubted you ever would be. Spending time with Tom was still worth it, would still be worth a lot worse than that.

“You could come back to London with me,” he offered.

The suggestion shocked you. Meeting in a hotel for a couple days was one thing, and really meeting in person one day had probably been inevitable as you’d both grown older, but he wanted to bring you back home with him?

“I don’t even have a passport,” you eventually said.

“I’ll wait with you while you get one. I won’t be done filming for another few weeks.” He squeezed your hand.

“I’m not saying that the thought of running away with you isn’t at all appealing, but like, how would you explain coming home with some random American girl? You don’t even have your own place yet.”

“I’ve already been looking for a place, though. I could just make it more of a priority to find one.”

“What about getting a visa to stay with you? I haven’t looked into it, but I don’t think they just hand them out to everyone who requests one.”

“Maybe you could finish school in London and get a student visa for the time being,” he suggested.

“So you’ve apparently thought about this?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I just hate how miserable you are, love. I hadn’t seen you genuinely happy before yesterday in months. It makes my heart hurt that you’re in such a bad place right now.”

You couldn’t deny that as much as you wished you could. It was 100% the truth. Seeing him had been the only thing that you’d looked forward to in a long time. Now that it was finally happening, what was next? You couldn’t answer that.

“God help me, I’m actually considering this,” you confessed, chewing your lower lip as you thought more about it.

“Good.” Tom did nothing to hide how pleased he was by that fact.

“I honestly thought you’d be fucking me in here tonight for every moment we had together, not having me start making life-changing plans.”

He rubbed his thumb over your fingers. “We have plenty of time. I think we’re both more comfortable talking here than back in the hotel room, at least for now.”

“Yeah, it is easier to talk to you here,” you agreed. “So, we’ve established that you’re a bad influence and I’m going to do something abso-fucking-lutely insane, now what?”

He chuckled. “The passport is the top priority for now. I might have already looked into it, and you can get it expedited.”

“What about my parents?” you asked.

“You already know how I feel about that. Fuck ‘em. They sent you off to that bloody hell hole of a boarding school and even took away your fucking phone because they didn’t want you to talk to me again,” he ranted, “and why? Because your cousin couldn’t use a goddamn rubber like a reasonable human being.”

“I miss the life I would’ve had back in my hometown, my friends and all the stuff I was looking forward to for senior year, but I haven’t missed them yet,” you admitted, looking down at the floor.

“I don’t blame you one bit. What they did to you was shitty.” He lifted your chin to look into your eyes. “I can promise you that you’ve always got me, though, even if the White Room disappears forever after we wake up. You won’t have to do any of this alone.”

“Thank you.” You felt tears start to slide down your cheeks. “I’m scared.”

“I know, darling. It’s alright.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead and wiped away your tears with his thumb. “Let me hold you for a while.”

You lay down on the bed with Tom, his arms wrapping around you. You buried your face in his chest and allowed yourself to cry it out, embarrassed that you were quickly becoming a snotty mess against his bare skin.

“Shhh,” he soothed, rubbing your back gently. “Everything will be alright.”

You pulled yourself against him tighter. Something twitched against your leg, and you glanced up to see.

“Shit, I swear I’m not getting off on you crying. I would never. You’re just naked, and touching me, and gorgeous, and it has a mind of its own,” he said quickly.

It wasn’t even that funny, really, but you started laughing and couldn’t stop, your tears turning into tears of laughter. Every time you began to calm down, the laughter bubbled up again.

Eventually, you managed to stop, calmer for a few moments.

Then, want washed over you unexpectedly. The only thing you were sure of was that you needed to be closer to Tom in that moment, maybe even closer than you could possibly be. You weren’t sure. You wouldn’t be until you tried, and you needed to try.

You kissed him suddenly, a little desperately, his mouth slack against yours in surprise. He didn’t stop you when you straddled him, rubbing your already wet core against his erection.

He broke the kiss, panting a bit. “Love, you might want-”

You shook your head and pressed your lips against his again, licking into his mouth.

He still didn’t stop you when you positioned him against your entrance and sank down, groaning into the kiss at the painful stretch. It took a few tries to bury him inside you to the hilt. You didn’t move for a while, just kept kissing him as you adjusted to his size. It still stung when you finally moved to rock against him, a few tears dripping down your cheeks.

He broke the kiss, looking simultaneously very aroused and very concerned.

“What’s this about, darling?” he asked.

“I need this,” you told him. “Needed to be closer to you.”

“Well, I don’t think you can get any closer than this. I’m literally inside of you right now. But we can stop if you want to. You’re crying again, and I really don’t want to hurt you.”

“I don’t want to stop,” you insisted, the sting already starting to transform into a feeling of fullness as you moved more.

He remained still underneath you, letting you take what you needed. “What do you want? Do you want me to take care of you?”

“Yeah,” you said, realizing that was exactly what you wanted.

“I’ll take such good care of you,” he promised. “Do you want to stay like this, or do you want me to be on top?”

“I don’t know. You can decide,” you eventually said.

He gently rolled you over without pulling out. “Do you want me to make you cum?”

That was easier to answer. “Yes.”

His hand slid between your bodies, and he found your clit with a fingertip. He circled it slowly as he carefully thrust into you. “Does that feel good?”

“Mhmm.” You wrapped your legs around his, enjoying the additional contact that made you feel closer to him.

He rubbed your clit a little faster, and an orgasm soon washed over you like a rolling tide. It wasn’t as intense and powerful as others you’d had, but the pleasure lasted much longer. You could feel your inner walls pulsing around him as you came.

“Oh fuck,” he moaned, and you felt him spill inside you as his thrusts slowed down until he stilled completely.

“Thank you,” you said, still a bit breathless.

“What are you thanking me for?” he asked.

“Taking care of me,” you responded.

“Believe me when I say it was no hardship.” He smiled down at you.

“I have a question,” you started.

“Go ahead.”

“You know how stuff goes into the White Room, like what you wear when you fall asleep,” you said.

“Yeah? What about it?”

“Does stuff go back out?” you asked.

“What do you-” Realization dawned on his face. “Oh. We’ll grab you the morning-after pill just in case.”

“I should probably go to a clinic soon and find a better long-term solution, since we can’t bring anything in the White Room with us.”

“That’s a good idea,” he agreed before changing the subject. “Do you feel better now?”

“Yeah. I’m still a little scared, but I don’t usually do crazy things so…” you trailed off.

“But I’m a bad influence,” he said playfully.

“You are,” you teased, “but like you said, I won’t be doing this alone.”

He nodded. “You won’t.”

“There’s something else I’m wondering,” you admitted.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Am I still a virgin, since we did this in the White Room, but not while we’re awake?”

“I guess it’s teeeeechnically a sex dream?” he responded.

“Good. I don’t regret this, not at all, but a tear-free do-over would be nice,” you told him.

“I’ll try not to disappoint you to the point of tears. I can’t make any promises, though,” he teased.

You chuckled.

Tag list: @moorehollandplz @thollandss @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @jackiehollanderr @adayasgeorgia @dasexydevitt13 @imagine-lovebug

[casbeanwrites]

43: Fuck or die, 56: Mutual pining (for that microfic thing)

fuck or die + mutual pining from the trope mashup 

warning: explicit

“We need what?” Dean angrily whispers into the phone.

“Look, I know this is awkward,” the voice of Sam replies, “but it’s the only spell Rowena found to neutralize those merwitches, as you call them.”

“And are we sure we trust her?”

“I don’t know, but we don’t really have a choice. We have to get you guys out of there.”

Dean and Cas had left the bunker a couple of days ago to investigate what they thought was a false lead, a couple of mysterious events that took place around a lake in the Poconos. Sightings of strange creatures had been reported, as well as evidence of dark magic, but neither of them expected to come fake to face with mermaid witches.

Yesterday, whilst investigating what they thought was the merwitches’ home base on a small island, they fell victims to a spell that landed them unconscious. When they both woke up, the little shack they were in was buried under feet and feet of tightly packed sand.

The oxygen was going to get sparse soon, and all they had was their bags and limited ingredients for spells.

Hence Sam’s solution.

Dean doesn’t like it one bit, but time isn’t on their side.

“He’s barely an angel anymore, how do we know it’s even gonna work?”

“It has to work. It’s all we got, Dean.”

“Shit.”

“Dean?” Dean jumps and almost drops his phone when Cas calls from behind him.

He hangs up, quickly, and puts the phone in his back pocket. Cas is standing in front of him, eyebrows meeting above his nose. He’s taken off his coat, because it’s hot and humid with the sand pressing around them, and his white dress shirt sticks to his skin. Dean does his best not to stare.

“What did Sam say?”

Just thinking about repeating Sam’s words to Cas has Dean’s heart thumping against his ribs. Probably loud enough for the angel to hear.

“Um.”

“Dean?”

Fuck, now he’s blushing like a road flare.

“Okay, so. Sam found a counter spell.”

“Good,” Cas sighs, his shoulders sagging. “Do we have everything we need?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty basic. There’s just, um, one thing.”

Cas raises his eyebrows, awaits the end of Dean’s sentence. That doesn’t seem to want to come.

“The spell calls for… angelic… um. Spunk.”

“Spunk?”

“Yeah, y’know.”

“I don’t,” Cas frowns.

“Sperm, Cas. We need your jizz for the spell.”

Cas opens his mouth and closes it. Looks at the sand blocking the window. Then back up at Dean.

“What kind of spell is that?”

“I don’t know, dude, but that’s what Sam said. Rowena found it or something. This isn’t normal magic or whatever, so this is all she could find.”

“So I need to ejaculate?”

Fuck, hearing Cas say ejaculate shouldn’t be as nerve wracking as it is.

“Yeah. So I’m just gonna give you a little privacy, and–”

“I’ve never–”

Dean stops on his way out the door and turns around to find Cas looking small and lost, playing with his shirt cuffs. There’s only two rooms in the shack and he fully intends to not be in the same one as Cas when the deed happens.

“I don’t know how,” Cas murmurs.

“C’mon, dude. You’ve been watching humanity for millennials. I’m sure you know people with dicks get off.”

“Yes, but–”

Cas rolls his eyes up to the non-existent sky.

“I’m not sure how I’m supposed to get an erection. This isn’t exactly a sexually stimulating environment, and even with the help of my grace, in order to achieve orgasm–”

“Can’t you just think about something hot? Like porn?”

“Porn is not very arousing for me.”

“You got hard watching that pizza man video! Think about that.”

Cas’ cheeks are red hot and he’s staring at the floor.

“There was a reason for that.”

“Okay…? Look, dude, we don’t got all day here, so–”

“It’s because you were there.”

“Me’n’Sam? Why the hell would you–”

“Not sam. You. It got an erection because you were there. I was aroused by the idea of you. Watching me.”

Dean opens his mouth. Closes it. He can feel the sweat beading on his forehead and gets the urge to take off more layers of his clothes. It’s so fucking hot in here, even with Castiel’s cold blue stare pinned on him.

“So what – what do you want me to do?”

“Could you help me?”

“I–”

Dean’s mouth feels stodgy. His jeans are sticking uncomfortably to his legs, and he pulls at his shirt in an attempt to get some air to cool down his skin. It doesn’t work. The wet sand they’re buried under makes the air heavy and sticky, and it smells of salt and fish. Not exactly a sexy environment.

Castiel gives him the softest puppy eyes and Dean is too weak to resist. He’s pretty sure he should want to, but he doesn’t.

It’d be a lie if he said he’s never thought about it. If he said he hadn’t insisted on going on this stupid hunt just so they could drive to the Poconos and spend a few nights alone together in a romantic cabin… Maybe get a nice dinner. Maybe tell Cas he’s been in love with him for years. Who knows.

And now they’re stuck here, in this miserable little shack, and Cas needs an orgasm, and who is Dean to deny him?

“Um. Okay.”

He steps closer. Looks down between Cas’ legs. There’s nothing to see yet, but Dean’s already blushing like a ripe tomato.

Cas watches him with something akin to fright in his eyes.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Maybe just… talk me through it,” Cas says.

“Right.”

Dean’s not disappointed. That would be crazy, to be disappointed.

“I’m sorry,” Cas murmurs, looking down. 

His cheeks are bright pink and for a moment Dean forgets about the case, about the murderous sea witches and their imminent death by asphyxiation, too taken by the sight of an Angel of Lord and his eyelashes fluttering on the delicate blush of his cheeks. He’s so fucking beautiful. 

“I don’t want you to do anything against your will. I don’t want to force myself on you. You’re just the only thing that arouses me, and–”

Dean grabs Cas’ shirt and pulls him forward. Cas falls against his chest with a soft oof, stopping himself with his hands on Dean’s heart.

Their noses brush. Dean smiles, and tries to be brave.

“Cas. Believe me, I’m very willing, alright?”

Cas’ gaze flutters down to Dean’s lips, and then up again, his blue eyes filled with wonder. Filled with Dean.

“I’m here for whatever you need. Whatever you want. I’m in.”

“Kiss me?”

“Yeah,” Dean breathes out, and he does.

It’s better than anything Dean ever dreamed of. And he did dream. A lot. About how it would feel to kiss Cas.

He never imaged it’d feel this good. That it’d feel this right.

And he wishes he could take all the time in the world to taste Cas’ lips, to explore all the possibilities of his mouth, of his tongue. But they can’t, right now, and Cas growls in frustration when Dean pulls away. But his anger quickly fades when Dean drops to his knees. The sand is wet and soaks through Dean’s jeans, but he barely feels it.

He’s already too far gone on Cas, who threads his fingers through Dean’s hair and traces the shape of his lips with his thumb. His hand is shaking, so Dean grabs it and kisses his palm until it steadies. Then he leans forward and presses his face into the fabric of Cas’ pants. He can feel Cas’ cock hardening quickly against his mouth, under the heat of his breath, the caress of his lips.

He undoes Castiel’s slacks and shoves down his underwear down. It’s kind of a blur. His mind only clear against when he takes the head of Cas’ cock between his lips, when his eyes flutter close and precome spurts on his tongue.

Dean always wondered if he’d taste different than a human, but he doesn’t. Not really. It still feels different, though. It feels very different, especially when he leans forward until he can feel the soft cockhead hitting the back of his throat. His lips stretch around Cas’ width, around the smooth, warm, firm shape of him. He’s so soft against his lips. Heavy on his tongue, he’s large and Dean almost chokes on him.

He’s getting hard too, from feeling Cas in his mouth, but this isn’t about him right now. Cas doesn’t taste different, truly, yet he’s still the best Dean’s ever had. He grabs on to Cas’ hips to steady himself when Cas starts moaning. He sounds so fucking wrecked already, and his fingers tighten in Dean’s hair, and it stings a little and Dean loves it way too much.

He laps and sucks and suckles, spit rolls down his chin, he strokes Cas’ thighs, allows him to move. When his legs start shaking he lets Cas thrust forward and hold Dean in place, struggles to keep his throat open and swallow around him. Cas pulls him off almost roughly, grabs the bowl on the table and comes all over, half on Dean’s face, half in the bowl, with a broken cry.

He looks dazed and fucked out when Dean scrambles to his feet. Cas grabs him and kisses him before Dean can get to the spell, and they might die but Dean can’t help but let himself savour it. Cas moans as he tastes himself in Dean’s mouth, and Dean feels dizzy with the thought that Cas wants him. He wants him like this.

It takes them a few minutes to gather the rest of the ingredient, chant the incantation, and set fire to them.

Dean only realizes they’re holding hands when Cas’ fingers tighten around his own as the sunlight beams through the windows, blinding after the previous darkness.

“Looks like it worked,” Dean grins.

“Yes.”

Cas smiles when they look at each other. Dean doesn’t pull his hand away, only brushes his thumb on Cas’ fingers.

“We should probably go back to shore,” he suggests, even though he doesn’t really want to leave.

“Yes. That would be a good idea.”

Neither of them move. Cas casts a quick look at the small bed.

“Or we could extend our vacation a little and I could… return the favour.”

Sam is not happy at all when he barges in a couple of hours later, panicked and out of breath, to find them cuddling naked in the tiny bed.

[mittensmorgul]

Also, if heaven did just consist of living ur happiest memories on a loop, what does that mean for shared heavens? Are they only able to relive memories they had together? Idk... I get what you're saying. But I prefer my interpretation. I remember when I joined internet fandom, I was confused by all the soulmate angst surrounding that episode, cuz the answer seemed so obvious to me: they never even get to their heavens, so it's a non-issue! I didn't even realize there were other interpretations

Hi there! Sorry I didn’t get to this yesterday, but I guess I was suffering some soulmate fatigue :P

Luckily, we have 10.20 to show us what an actual soulmate-shared heaven looks like. When Amelia Novak shows up, she finds Jimmy already there. Waiting for her. And the episode actually shows us “Amelia’s Heaven” that she experiences via her soul before she dies and sees it for real.

When Tamiel feeds on her soul starting in the cold open, she’s forced to experience her own heaven over and over again, disconnected from Jimmy, because she’s still alive, on Earth. In those visions of Heaven, she’s already there. She experiences herself walking down the stairs as Jimmy arrives:

AMELIA: Jimmy? Jimmy? (Amelia runs ¾ of the way down stairs) Is it...you? JIMMY: (Jimmy nods slowly) Castiel is gone. It's me. Sorry. I'm so sorry. I never ... (Amelia runs down the rest of the stairs and hugs Jimmy) AMELIA: I looked everywhere for you. I thought I lost you again. JIMMY: It's okay. It's okay. (They end the embrace and Amelia take Jimmy’s face in her hands) It's... (Camera pans to Amelia’s forearms resting on Jimmy’s chest. Blood starts to ooze through her shirt on her left arm) It's okay. I'm home now. (Amelia looks down to her forearms, as the bloodstain grows larger) AMELIA: What's happening? JIMMY: How's our girl? How's Claire? (Jimmy seems oblivious to what is happening to Amelia, as she gets increasingly upset) AMELIA: No! Not again! No! (Scene changes to Amelia strapped to a cot in a dark room. She is wearing a grey tank top and looks worn and haggard. A man in a suit is sitting on the side of the cot with her. She is making whimpering noises and trying to sit up and pull away as the man hold her arm and places something against the crook of her elbow)

In this version of her Heaven Experience, she’s effectively alone, being interfered with by an angel and forced to live out a version of the soul-generated experience that will become her Heaven when she dies. Notice that in this version, because it’s not her full, complete heaven (notice this is the word Dumah also uses to describe Mary’s soul in 14.18, “Complete” and at rest in her heaven, as if before she hadn’t actually felt complete in her heaven for whatever reason... I have theories, but I’m not ready to start going all headcanon on that... I’m sticking to concrete facts here...).

So in her endless loop, nothing ever changed. She began at the top of the stairs as Jimmy entered, but because it wasn’t actually heaven, Jimmy wasn’t “actually Jimmy.” When she broke the “script,” because of Tamiel cutting her arm and that injury literally “bleeding over” into her Heaven vision as Tamiel fed on her soul, Jimmy didn’t react, just like every other “memory simulacra” we’ve ever seen in Heaven-- like the people Sam had Thanksgiving dinner with when Dean crashed into his heaven who kept right on acting out that scene. We actually do have a scene that shows us this exact transition for Amelia, and what happens when she herself becomes aware of the real world around her-- when Cas wakes her up from Tamiel’s enforced heaven-dream.:

CASTIEL: Amelia. (Scene changes to Amelia running down the stairs as in the opening scene) AMELIA: Jimmy?! (Scene changes to the barn where Castiel is untying the restraints on Amelia’s wrists and then helps her sit up) CASTIEL: Oh. (Scene changes back to Amelia in the house. She is at the bottom of the steps looking around the entryway) AMELIA: Jimmy! (Scene changes back to Amelia laying on the cot) CASTIEL: Amelia. (Scene changes back to the house where a frightened Amelia is looking around the entryway) AMELIA: Jimmy! (Scene changes back to the barn as Amelia’s eyes snap open) CASTIEL: Amelia. (Amelia looks up and realizes that Castiel is with her. She gets angry and starts hitting at him. As she’s punching, Castiel tries to grab her wrists)

The descriptions in brackets are not mine. They’re copy/pasted from the superwiki transcript here, so you can read them for yourself. Or better yet, go watch that scene (or the whole episode) and notice this shift for yourself.

At first, she’s re-experiencing the loop we saw play out before, the one that ended in her agony as Tamiel consumed a bit of her soul and “woke” her from her vision of Heaven.

(and honestly, can you imagine the pain of having to experience that over and over, your soul finally reunited with your soul-mate you’ve been searching for years for, only to be literally ripped away and forced to see through the illusion every single time? wow that’s gotta be awful...)

But this time, it’s not Tamiel feeding on her, but Cas attempting to HEAL her that interferes with her Heaven Dream. She’s no longer running down the stairs to meet Jimmy, because something in her subconscious already recognizes what’s happening in reality, even if she hasn’t “woken up” to it yet. Her heaven vision shifts. She’s no longer at the top of the stairs, but in the entryway, but this time Jimmy isn’t there, and she’s scared because he isn’t there. When she wakes up to reality, she immediately recognizes Castiel, knows he’s not Jimmy, and instead of being relieved to see him is furious with him. She blames him for taking Jimmy from her.

So her perspective of Heaven has already begun to shift because of what she now knows. She won’t be “waiting for Jimmy” in Heaven. It’s as if just seeing Cas, she knows now that Jimmy is already there, waiting for her. Which is exactly what we see at the end of the episode:

(Scene changes to the front door of Amelia’s ‘dream’ house. It’s bright outside the door. Amelia walks through the door, unhurt and closes the door. Jimmy appears at the top of the stairs) JIMMY (walking down the stairs): Amelia. Amelia. (They meet each other in the entryway) AMELIA: Jimmy? Is it really you? (Jimmy and Amelia embrace) Is this... JIMMY: It's heaven. (They pull away and look around at the house) I...waited for you for so long. I... How was she? How's Claire? AMELIA (Smiling): Oh, Jimmy, she grew up so beautiful. She's so strong. JIMMY: Like her mom. I love you. AMELIA: I love you, too. (They embrace again and Jimmy is crying over Amelia’s shoulder)

This is obviously a memory neither of them have ever shared, and yet they’re able to share it now anyway. We’re given to believe this is how soulmate heavens work. Jimmy is AWARE that they’re both in Heaven, and Amelia only seems to need his word on that to believe and feel relieved about it. After years of being tortured with the taunt of reunification with Jimmy that was never truly real, only to have it ripped away, we see them both finally at peace.

Not that they will just go on to make entirely new memories, but that the happiest of one of their memories will be something the other is now invited and able to share in, also experiencing them as happy memories. And NOT, as we saw with Sam and Dean, where one’s happiest memories makes the other abjectly miserable...

Dean finding Sam’s heaven was experienced as an intrusion by Sam. If they’d actually been soulmates, they would’ve been HAPPY to see each other’s happiest memories and would’ve instantly recognized what was going on-- and Dean would’ve either been delivered to the porch where he could find Sam, or Sam would’ve been delivered to the field or the Impala where he could’ve found Dean... there would’ve been no need for third party intervention to hand over the cheat codes and explain the axis mundi... 

The fact Cas describes it as “some people see it as a river,” etc etc is because that’s the nature of heaven... Same as “some people see the garden as Heaven’s throne room” etc etc. Do we really think that everyone can just wander around Heaven, or that loads of folks just wander into the Garden? Ash confirms in this episode that hardly ANYONE actually can wander out of their own heaven AT ALL. And we never see any other random souls walking down the road looking for their own heavens. Because that’s assuming that their heavens are a rational physical place, like a neighborhood full of prefab houses that you’re ushered to in a physical body, and that has never been how heaven has been portrayed. Like Amelia’s repeated heaven vision, it’s literally a construct generated by her own soul.

But Ash... didn’t actually see the both of them land. He didn’t know about Cas’s covert communications with Dean via the radio, and then again via the TV. He didn’t KNOW that Dean had to be given the cheat codes in order to get them both to that field where Ash found them.

I mean, considering everything else that happened in this episode, it’s far more plausible to believe that it’s Dean and Cas who are sharing some stronger bond, since Cas is actually the ONLY one who’s able to covertly communicate in Heaven without being overheard on Angel Radio. He’s maintaining a direct connection to Dean’s soul in Heaven, and NOBODY else is able to do that within this episode.

Ash hears Zachariah’s hunt for Sam and Dean’s souls over Angel Radio.

Zachariah hears Sam and Dean’s plans to go to the Garden and intercepts them via Ash’s sigil spell on the door, rerouting them to his own little trap.

But NOBODY mentions how it was Castiel who enabled them to even leave their own heavens in the first place, or that he’d been in contact with them AT ALL. And it was CHUCK’S interference, delivering the message to Joshua that Sam and Dean were specifically looking for him that convinced Zachariah to back off and let them go in the first place. CHUCK knew what had happened.

So honestly, this goes harder on proving the “profound bond” between Dean and Cas than it does proving that Sam and Dean are actually soulmates. Because Cas... once Dean was aware of the truth of his situation... was actually WELCOME in Dean’s heaven, and not the intrusion that Dean and Sam functioned as in their own heavens...

But Amelia and Jimmy’s heaven (and the descriptions we have of Mary’s heaven from before and after her resurrected years making peace with reality, and even via Lily Sunder’s journey to save her own soul in 14.08, and Kelly Kline’s experience of meeting Jack as an “adult” inside her own heaven) does give us one more critical piece of information: Heavens can Change. All the experience we have in life allows us to grow, gives us new memories, and influences how we see the sum total of our own lives.

I mean, it’s a weird take on “comedy = tragedy + time” equation. It makes me interested to know how different Dean and Sam’s respective heavens would look today...

Dean clearly wouldn’t be lost in memories of Mary from his childhood, now that he’s had years to get to know her as an adult. The quality of those old memories look very different from his current perspective, you know? And Sam... he actually HAS happy memories of Mary now. Maybe his happiness wouldn’t be someone else’s Thanksgiving now. Maybe it wouldn’t be about running away so much anymore. But would Dean and Sam’s happiest memories actually overlap? I kind of hope that Dabb gives us a peek at this before the series ends, while simultaneously hoping that it ends with all of them alive, so they can lay down decades more happy memories to carry forward, free of Chuck’s manipulations and endless cycle of sacrifice, loss, and trauma.

I’m wondering if Heaven isn’t due for a little restructuring, as well... but that’s a subject for another post...

[peculiarbob]

Desolate Souls and Broken Minds

Chapter 3: Good as Dead

Chapter 2: The Dream

Chapter 1: New Beginnings

Side note: The next chapter won’t come out for a little while because I can only write on the weekends (School started up again) But I’ll try to work quick.

Word count: 2130

Summary: Tim is even more stressed now that Cas brought Jessica to the bunker to help out. Despite him not wanting her to stay she objects. Things don’t get better when Jack goes missing only to return with disturbing news.

I go to the bathroom and lock the door behind me. The icy cold water washes over my face as a relieving sense of reality finally hits me. This wasn’t part of the dream. I look at my tired face in the mirror. My eyes now have dark bags beneath them, my unkempt dark brown hair was now stuck to my soaked face. My once clean shaven face with sideburns, now sported a messy beard and mustache. I wash my face once more before heading out to confront Jessica and Castiel. I put on my best “I don’t want to cry, I’m emotionally stable” face and walk out.

“Look, Jessica, you probably have some questions.” she nods in response.

“Where are we, who are all these people, what’s going on?”

“This is the bunker, it’s their home, it’s somewhere in Kansas. I’m not sure where exactly, I was kidnapped.” she looked concerned at the last statement, “This is Castiel, he’s an angel of the lord. There’s three more people, the short one is Jack, he’s a half angel or something, the taller one is Dean, and the tallest one is Same. They hunt monsters, yup, those exist. And, um- the creature that made all our friends go crazy, it’s back and stalking Jack. There’s also two hooded men, and one of them was spying on you. Also I became, not myself, again. Sooo, yeah.”

We all sit in silence for a little while. Jessica was obviously trying to make sense of everything I just said. I’m still trying to figure everything out.

After a little bit, she cautiously says, “Okay? Umm…. Have you taken your medications?” when I nod she says, “Are you sure?” I tell her that I did and swallow a pill in front of her to prove myself. We all sit in silence again.

“Sooo.” I say, “How’re you doing?”

“Fine. Not normal, but fine.”

With an eye roll Cas finally says, “Okay, so you’re caught up now. Are you two are the only ones who’ve encountered the creature?” Jessica bites her lip then looks at me. I lie and say yes.

“Then you need to help us. There is no lore about this thing, I’ve never even heard about it in heaven, and Jack is miserable-”

“He doesn’t know what being miserable is like.” I snap, “I’ll help, but spare me the pitiful details. Take Jessica home, she doesn’t need to get back into this mess.”

I try to regain my calm but Jessica argues with me for a while. We come to the agreement that she gets to stay in the bunker, to support Jack, but she doesn’t get involved with the actual work. Cas takes her back home to pack up then will return so she can temporarily move in. I go back to sleep, well, more like lie on my back while having the covers up to my chin out of paranoia. I don’t get any more rest for the night.

It’s now five thirty in the morning. I get up, change, take my pills, then head to the kitchen. I’m surprised to see that Jessica’s already up, she’s eating french toast covered in syrup and a large glass of milk. I head to the fridge to grab some eggs to make for breakfast.

“Morning.” Jessica calls in a soothing voice, “Got any sleep?”

“Not really. You?”

“No.”

I make scrambled eggs with bacon and a glass of milk. We eat together and catch up. Jessica has a job as a delivery driver for “Ship Cut”, nothing significant has really happened since I left, sleep still doesn’t come easily though. I then tell her most of the major events leading up to now, I left out the dream and the couple times I had a breakdown. No one needs to know those things. I try to lighten the mood but, surprise surprise, I can’t remember any good times we had together. We ended up talking about when our friends were alive.

“I’m not sure if you’ve ever met Brian. H-he was the hooded man.”

“I remember him, shame that I never got to meet him before he became that guy.”

“Yeah, he was a great guy, and the best friend I could ask for.” Neither of us said anything for a moment.

“Shame I didn’t really get to meet any of them before everything went crazy.” I nod in agreement. “What were they like?” I think back to when my life was “normal”.

“Jay was kind, an idiot don’t get me wrong, but he was always so nice to everyone. You were either a friend of Brian or you were his family.” I can feel a smile spread across my face remembering such amazing people, “Even Alex was a good guy, he put so much pride into everything he did.”

We stop the conversation when Dean walks into the room. It’s almost seven now, time sure does fly. The rest of the guys eat, Jessica heads back to her room, then we start work. We don’t have much to go off of, who am I kidding? I was the only one besides Jessica who could even try to help. If the guys who built this place were such good hunters, then why was there no information on this creature. Maybe it was all destroyed, I doubt it though. They pretty much only wanted to know what it is, what it wants, and how to kill it. I couldn’t answer any of those questions, I could give advice though.

“It seems like this place has a weird protection from the creature. For now it would be best if Jack stayed inside at all times. NEVER get close to it, don’t try to interact with it. Where is Jack anyways?” They all look around while Dean calls his name, no one answers. I’m surrounded by morons. We have to quickly pack some things, a pocket knife, a first aid kit, and my pills, then head out. It’s the middle of the day so I hope it’ll be easy to spot the kid.

It’s been about two hours! How far could he have gone?! We were only talking for about what, ten minutes? We’ve been calling his name, going down the paths he mostly goes on, walked along the road, and he doesn’t seem the type to idiotically head into danger. I can’t say the same for these three. We’re now five miles into the woods and there’s no signs of Jack. We could split up to cover more grounds like Dean suggested, but that’s obviously not a good idea. There’s strength in numbers, especially when it comes to this creature. I didn’t want to tell them the full story of what happened to me in the past, it probably would’ve helped them understand but it’s painful just thinking about it.

It’s now about three thirty and we’ve already covered a lot of the place. Sam suggested we call the someone because he’s technically a missing person. I only said no because anyone who gets involved ends up dead or missing. We start to head back with the hope that we’ll see him on the way to the bunker. By the time we got back our hopes were gone. Jessica was drinking a cup of coffee at the table while reading some of the Men of Letters’ books. When she saw that there were only four of us her expression saddened and I can see her say to herself, “Oh no.”

We were about to sit down when a knock came from the front door, I got up to open it. It was Jack. I was genuinely surprised, but nevertheless happy. But happiness soon turned to worry, his once neatly styled hair was now disheveled, he was bruised, scratched, and slightly bloodied. Everyone got up to welcome him and they looked concerned as well. Cas healed the boy then we started asking him questions.

“Where did you go? Why did you wander off like that?!” Dean asked loudly.

“Why did you look like you got into a fight?” Sam said in a concerned tone.

“Were you kidnapped?!” Cas says while handing him a cup of ice water.

He was getting visually overwhelmed. When the rest of them noticed this they stopped asking questions. Jack was rubbing his temples as if he had a headache, he looked tired as well. He drank an entire glass of water before slowly speaking.

“After breakfast I went out for a walk, I don’t know why. When I was about two miles into the woods I thought I saw something. I know you don’t like it here, Tim, so I thought I could kill it with my powers. But….” he paused for a moment, “But then someone punched me, they were strong. I couldn’t see who because my vision was blurred, but then another person started dragging me by the wrist. I could barely stay on my feet. I kept tripping over things so I couldn’t see them either. I’m sorry, I failed at this too.” He continued to tell us that the thing was getting closer and he was feeling sick, then he had to use his powers to get the two people away from him. He only ran for what felt like ten minutes but by the time he got back to the bunker hours had past.

Jessica gave him a one armed hug but while doing so, she looked at me with a concerned face. We were both asking ourselves the same thing, “Who are these people?” To be honest, Jack, Sam, Dean, and Cas are as good dead. They’re marked and we have no idea how to save them. There’s nothing we can do, I’ve decided it’s my time to leave. It’s not easy but there was no point staying an seeing them die slowly or go insane. I go to my room to start packing up.

“So you’re just gonna walk away?” I turn around to see Jessica, “You more than anyone knows that in times like these it’s best to have someone with you.”

“They have each other, they’ll be…. Well I wouldn’t say ‘fine’ but you get what I’m saying.”

“If we go the creature won’t be around them ALL of the time. Maybe it’s best we leave, I’ll get packed.” Without another word she turns around and heads to her room. When we finish packing we decide to stay one last night. Dinner was silent and awkward, and apparently Cas doesn’t eat. I can’t sleep, too many thoughts running through my mind.

Maybe Brian is one of the hooded people, but I saw his dead body. But he could’ve been acting, he was pretty good at it. What if Alex is alive and now stalking people while wearing a hoodie? Could Jay be alive? Did I take my medications? Yup I did, why am I thinking about these things? Maybe I miss my friends. If angels are real, then there’s a possibility that God and heaven exists. I hope they’re happy if they’re up there. But that’s if it does exist. I wonder if Jessica ever thinks about them? She never really got to know them though. I’m just so tired.

It’s now the morning, three thirty two to be exact. We left a note saying, “We decided to leave. The creature can’t stalk both of us all the time if we’re not in the same place. Stay safe and remember our advice. -Tim and Jessica”

It’s still dark out and our surroundings are surprisingly eerie. We quickly put our belongings in the car and start driving. We drove for about five hours before we stopped at a gas station. We both went inside to use the restroom and grab some supplies. When we got back to the car it wouldn’t move. We got out to look when I noticed something.

“Uhhh, Jessica? All the tires are slashed.”

“What? We were in there for what, five minutes?”

I notice something on the ground. I picked it up and saw, in sharpie, that oh so famous symbol, a circle with an X going through it. There was also a word written above the symbol in a scratchy font, “Skully”. I’m not sure what it means but I’m keeping it, for now I’m not going to tell Jessica. I hope Sam, Dean, Cas, and Jack are alright. I stuck a post-it note on my bed with my phone number, so we can stay in contact. We have to call someone to help us out, they said it would take them about an hour before they can get to us. I swear I can see something moving along the tree line, but it’s probably my imagination.

[garden-ghoul]

here read my gertrude fanfiction (also on ao3), includes fraught soul-searching and tarot

After they disembark Gertrude leaves Gerard to his own devices. He takes this to mean that he should secure dinner for them both while Gertrude checks into the hotel. He’s too good at teamwork for what he is, and certainly for what Gertrude is. She rather wishes he’d been able to beat it out of himself. She doesn’t like to think of him running errands for Mary. At least he manages stoicism where none of her assistants ever did; where neither of his parents could.

Gerard is so late finding the hotel that she considers going to a convenience store for food, but at nearly midnight he does knock on the door. “Sorry about this,” he says, a little breathless. “I had a hell of a time finding the place.”

He’s lying. Gertrude isn’t sure why.

They eat in silence, and immediately afterward Gerard disappears into the bathroom for a shower that lasts nearly an hour and ends with a gout of steam that rolls out into the room, waking her from her half-sleep. She gives no sign, but only listens to him tiptoeing around the room and sighing.

She wakes up early to have a miserable ‘continental’ breakfast in the hotel lobby, then leaves for the Institute without bothering to wake Gerard. He knows what his task is, and he’s showed good initiative and decision-making in the past. Gertrude needs to put in an appearance, if only to prove that she is still the Archivist, that she is not yet replaceable. She finds a totally unfamiliar set of assistants who look so shocked to see her that it’s quite possible they’ve only heard of her by reputation. She does not go to see Elias. It would be redundant. Rather, she fills her bag with relevant statements compiled by one or another of the assistants and leaves again for Soho. As she’s walking out the door Rosie asks timidly if she’ll be in to work tomorrow; “Perhaps,” says Gertrude.

At the occult shop off Dean Street she finds a young woman who must be an employee talking animatedly with Gerard about tarot. She barely glances up when Gertrude comes in, but Gerard straightens with a vaguely guilty air. She doesn’t even need to do anything to encourage his guilt—he spent over twenty years trying to understand how to please the impossible Mary Keay, and he was quick to attune himself to Gertrude in the same way. It irritates her for no reason she can fathom, despite how useful it makes him. No—for no reason she wants to fathom. Self-deception is an idiot’s tool, and yet Gertrude sometimes finds herself making use of it for the sake of expediency.

“Dekker’s in the back,” Gerard says. “Didn’t want to start without you. I can go and get him if you want.”

“No need. There’s no reason for you to be there. Continue with your games.”

She can feel his sullen irritation burning on the back of her neck as she opens the door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY and slips through. Good. If only he could bring himself to trust her a little bit less: he still thinks he’s somehow different from the assistants she has sacrificed to the hungry mouth of necessity. It always sickens her a bit to betray trust, but when she has to betray him it’s going to be—worse.

Dekker is taking notes on something he’s reading in the storage room. He looks up and smiles at her, and stands to clasp her hand. “Good to see you made it back in one piece.”

“Yes, well, for however long it lasts.”

His smile turns sardonic as he sits again. “Right. That’s exactly what I wanted to talk about.” He slides a piece of blank paper and a pen across the table toward her. She only has to wonder why for a moment before he picks up his own pen and starts drawing a chaotic fractal (spiraling, angular) with no obvious algorithmic origin. Gertrude follows suit with one of her own. She’s now forgotten the name but the thing itself is strikingly memorable, rising and falling, weaving and unweaving itself until every part of it meets in a hungry plexus. She’s drawn it so many times that she sometimes dreams it making itself step by step, a netting in front of the monstrous eye that always watches her.

“This is what I’ve found so far,” says Dekker, gesturing to an open folder in front of him. “Does the Archive in fact have nothing?”

Gertrude doesn’t yet look up from her drawing, because he has paused. “It does, in fact. I have come to believe that any statements taken on it were destroyed immediately. I myself have only taken two, which may mean that witnesses are systematically eliminated.”

“Systematically, but not completely. I’ll draw, you look.”

She puts her pen down to look over what’s in the folder. Three new statements concerning preparation and one concerning the substance of the Rite of the Watcher’s Crown. She skims them intently and nods. “Thank you, Adelard. I should mark the folder as well, while we’re here. Do you have any other news?”

“Hmm,” says Dekker, as Gertrude begins to draw her fractal web on the folder. “No supernatural news. And I’m sure you don’t want to see pictures of my sister’s kids. Very cute, though. Sometimes she brings them in to visit, Paulina dotes on them. I think Gina’s afraid they’ll grow up into witches, though, if they keep playing with cards and crystals.”

Gertrude doesn’t speak or look up. She has nothing to say on the subject. It’s been decades since she had anything she could call a family. This is intentional.

“So I tell her she doesn’t have to bring them here, but she says they love the shop. Spoiled kids.”

Dekker lapses into silence, idly continuing his sharp spirals. She thinks of warning him not to get comfortable drawing fractals without thinking, but he’s a grown man. And in any case she doesn’t need associates who can’t take care of themselves. Getting rid of Michael was practically a public service—

She stops for a moment, caught between human decency and practiced cruelty. In any reasonable value scheme, Michael was worth nothing as a person, less than nothing as a research assistant, and his only value was his ability to get in the way. But a very long time ago Gertrude was taught a different value scheme. Her parents insisted that humans have some kind of inherent worth, and she has been unlearning it ever since. Sometimes she wonders in her father’s voice why she should bother rescuing humanity from its collective fears if all of them are worthless, and she has never found a satisfactory answer. Only that it is something she needs to do.

She finishes the net and stands up, tucking the folder into her bag. “Thank you,” she says again. “Be careful.”

To her relief he puts his pen down as he smiles wryly up at her. “You need that advice more than me, Gertrude. Get on with you.”

He accompanies her out into the shop and looks over the girl’s shoulder where she’s leaning over one of the display cases. “Making friends, Paulina?”

“Shit!” she says, jumping slightly. “Hey, Mr. Dekker. I was just showing Gerry how to read tarot.”

Gerry?

Gertrude raises one eyebrow at him, but he is industriously tapping the deck on the table to align all the edges of the cards. She does not point out that Gerard has known how to read tarot since he was very young. Heaven forbid she should interfere with his flirting.

“I’d like to do a reading for you,” Gerard says. He looks up and makes eye contact, which seems to indicate that this request is important.

“I won’t stop you,” she says.

He shuffles seven times, flamboyantly, and then holds out the deck. She cuts it and he squares the edges on the table again.

When he draws the first card she realizes that the deck is not the Rider-Waite-Smith deck she was expecting. The angel in the sky of Judgment is not a winged humanoid but a wheel of eyes, an ophan. “This is your major concern,” says Gerard. “I don’t have to tell you what that means, do I.”

“No.”

“Your challenges,” says Gerard, flipping the next card. “Eight of cups. Detachment, abandonment of connections. G-d, this is a lot more embarrassing than I was expecting. Er, also symbolizes escapism. So, moving on. Something you need to know. Four of coins, reversed. Normally that means… huh. Material wealth…” For her the card appears upright, and it’s impossible to deny the subject’s striking resemblance to Elias Bouchard. “The crown is… literal. So maybe look for that. And don’t be shy about spending resources to go after it, I guess.”

Gertrude leans forward intently. “Where is it?” she asks. Although as far as she knows tarot is complete nonsense based in apophenia and confirmation bias, she is willing to believe that if anyone can use it for genuine divination it is Gerard.

“Right, this one’s ‘a thing you need in order to progress’.” He pushes the next card into place. “Hah! Oh, I like this deck. I’m sure you’re aware the Devil is usually a metaphor for imprisonment, but in this case he’s also a person.”

“Elias has the crown?”

“No,” says Paulina. Gerard looks around at her in surprise. “Not yet. It’s going to become his, or become real. That’s why it’s reversed. It doesn’t just show who has it, it shows how he has it. And he’s got to do something first.”

“Oh,” says Gerard. “Right, yeah, that makes sense. Pity, though, that we can’t steal it.” Gertrude gestures for him to continue, and he sighs. “Final card. What you’ve got to do.” He places it below the second card. “Four of cups. Play it safe. Wait.”

“No,” says Gertrude, and she flips the next card off the top of the deck, laying it sideways across the four of cups.

He sighs again, longer. “What you’re going to do anyway. Ace of swords. Reveal secrets at any cost.”

“That is a card for how to fail,” says Paulina.

“I have everything I needed,” says Gertrude. “Good-bye, Adelard.” She strides toward the door. Behind her Gerard hastily says goodbye to Paulina, muttering that she should text him, and hurries after Gertrude. Briefly, and for no reason at all, she hates him for assuming that he is required to leave with her.

Gerard catches up to her quickly, but as he often does he walks half a step behind. “She actually did teach me,” he says. “M… Mary never worked out how to use it for anything, she just liked the look of it. Apparently it gives you awful dreams, though. So, looking forward to that.”

“How unfortunate,” says Gertrude. “Especially as I suspect you’ll be using it a lot in the near future.”