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chevroletdean · 15 days ago

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Tainted — Chapter 2: Breathe Me In, Bleed Me Out

SUMMARY: The world caves in for Dean’s girlfriend when she gets a panicked call from Sam— Dean is gone. And she has to find him. Can she keep her promise?

SHIP: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader (MOC!Dean x Reader, Demon!Dean x Reader) GENRE: Angst, smuttish (nothing explicit, but definitely suggestive so MDNI) TO NOTE/WARNINGS: Seasons 9-10 spoilers, established relationship, angst, little bit of a time jump from chapter 1, more time jumps within this chapter, temporary character death, grief, canon level violence, demon!dean being an asshole, suggestive making out (while consenual, definitely laden with guilt), implied cheating WORD COUNT: 5.2k A/N: This chapter was honestly difficult for me to write. My struggles with writing Y/N stories bite me in the butt again, lol. I never know whether Y/N is too flat to be interesting or too fleshed out to be relatable, it's a fine balance. Feel free to let me know your opinions. Fair warning: A good amount of this is basically the plot of the episodes 9x20 and 10x01. CREDIT & LINKS: header edited by myself ──〃★ divider edited by myself ──〃★ series masterlist

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“Slowly, Sam,” she spoke through the phone despite the tremble in her own voice.

She’s had this bad feeling in her guts, teetering on the edge of panic. It’s been like this the whole day. The second her phone had started vibrating, the moment she saw Sam’s name on the display, she knew it was bad news.

She couldn’t put her finger on as to why.

She just knew.

Maybe it was the timing; Sam rarely called her out of the blue. Not like this, anyway. Not under these circumstances. He never had a reason to, until now. He always promised to give her a call should he need her help and even then they usually would text each other instead.

Maybe it was the way Sam stumbled across his own words, barely able to choke out a single coherent sentence. She could probably count the amount of times he sounded this freaked-out on one hand. He went on and on, rambling about “Metatron” and “Crowley” and “a knife” and “blood, so much blood.”

What else could it have been then, if not bad news?

A dull ache throbbed in her head as much as it did in her chest. She took off just two days ago, since a friend asked her to help with a hunt.

She had been reluctant about leaving the Bunker — they had enough on their plate already: Searching for Metatron was annoying, and then there was Dean’s insistence on killing him with the First Blade. Sam had locked the weapon away ever since he noticed the effect it had on his brother.

That knife paired with the Mark of Cain was a recipe for disaster. Until they’d find a cure for the curse, it was best to keep it hidden from Dean.

“Deep breath,” she said — at this point she wasn’t sure if she was trying to calm down Sam or rather herself. Her own exhale was shaky. As were her clammy hands that had an iron grip on the phone. “What happened?”

There was a long pause on the other end. Every second of it filled her with an absolute sense of dread.

“Where is he?,” she asked then. Hopeful, worried, terrified. “Where’s Dean?”

Sam’s voice was barely audible on the other end, yet his words hit her with the force of a thousand screams: “I’m sorry.”

It was a weird feeling. She wanted to cry and scream, to deny and to bargain. But she remained absolutely stiff and silent. Numbness was taking over.

“Where is he?,” she repeated her question, voice barely above a breath.

“I put him on your bed.”

Their bed, the only place remotely close to a sanctuary after long days of hunting and having to face the ugly of the world. She didn’t even want to think of the implications of their situation now. That bed, once a warm haven, would forever feel cold now.

“Wait for me,” she muttered weakly. There it was, that long awaited lump in her throat. She tried to swallow it, along with the tears that threatened to dwell up and spill over. “Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”

Without hesitation she checked out of the motel, ditched her current case, and drove back to the Bunker. While there was no point in fretting over it now, she did curse herself for giving in to Dean’s suggestion.

“It’s just a hundred-something miles, you should take the case,” his encouragement had been. He had practically been urging her to chase that ghost. How could she not have seen it? Why did she not question his adamancy?

“I guess it’s a simple salt and burn, shouldn’t take too long,” she had given in so easily. Why did she brush it off so quickly? Why did Dean have to push her away?

Why did she let him?

If she had to guess, she would’ve said she expected him to act differently.

Since that particularily restless night, she thought his calmer, more reserved mood was a good sign. Oh, how wrong she had been.

After weeks and months of battling with himself and the Mark of Cain plaguing him non-stop, she had grown accustomed to Dean’s shitty moods. She had braced herself for an explosion in case the curse would take over.

An outburst, she would’ve understood. He could’ve been rude to her, cold even, anything to try and make her hate him. All of that, she already mentally prepared for. But instead, he put distance between them so subtly and gently that she didn’t even recognize it for what it was:

A silent suicide mission.

This fucker knew trying to rile her up into driving her away would fail. He knew that if he wanted her out of the way of his plan, he’d have to resort to softer methods. To distracting her with a case, to plotting in secret.

Dean had been planning to use the First Blade against Metatron all this time. All by himself, despite the warning signs. He’s reduced himself to a weapon, again, even though they all tried to convince him that they were in this together.

Lebanon, Kansas was roughly two hours away. Thanks to violating multiple traffic laws, she arrived there in just under one and a half. It was honestly a miracle she made it there in one piece.

The first strange thing she noticed was Baby’s empty parking spot. The black Impala was nowhere to be seen. Alarmed, she thought Sam might’ve drove off to do God knows what.

Immediately she rushed inside, downstairs and into the war room. An eerie silence occupied the space. Dominated it. A silence she didn’t want to get used to, but she could already feel it settle in as if the Bunker was its new home.

Sam was nowhere to be seen, presumably — hopefully — keeping watch in Dean’s and her room. Did she even want to see what would await her there? Was any of this even real? It felt like such a joke, a twisted prank of a cruel fate. A nightmare she just wanted to wake up from.

Her heavy feet carried her down the hallway, but her legs were dragging along the floor like she was walking through water. Cold, heavy water slowing her down.

The door was slightly ajar and for a second her body refused to move entirely. Pushing it open and stepping inside felt impossible. No amount of time could help her brace herself for seeing her boyfriend’s corpse anyway. Thus, with a heavy heart and bated breath, she slipped inside.

Sam’s tall figure stood at the end of the bed, his back facing her and blocking her view, effectively.

Except, as she dared to take a glimpse, her eyes fell on an empty bed. Rustled sheets, stained with some blood. But no body.

Her stomach churned, racing mind unable to make sense of any of this.

“What did you do?,” she rasped. Casting her eyes towards Sam, she caught a glimpse of a piece of paper in his hands. Snatching it from his hands swiftly, she read the note over and over again.

Let me go.

Undoubtedly Dean’s handwriting, sharp and confident brushstrokes of a ballpoint pen. Let me go? What was that even supposed to mean?

“Sam, what did you do?,” she repeated her question, more urgently this time.

The younger Winchester stood there all frozen and speechless.

It was so difficult to contain her pain and her anger. Didn’t she tell Sam to wait until she was there? Didn’t she tell him to keep an eye on Dean just before she left two days ago?

Oh, how badly she wanted to yell at him for this mess.

But wasn’t that too easy? Pointing the finger at someone else, when she failed Dean all the same.

Not only was there no point in blaming Sam, it also didn’t look like he knew what was going on either. He looked about as distraught as she felt. She had to actively grab his arms to gain his attention.

“What the hell happened? Where’s Dean?”

Sam shook his head and she could see the wheels turning behind those knitted brows.

“Crowley,” Sam stuttered out. “He… I called him and—”

Her eyes almost popped out of her head, she widened them so much. Another cycle of sold souls might just be her last straw. Why did these boys always have to sacrifice themselves for each other?

“You made a deal?,” she interrupted him, furious.

“No deal. I told him to make it right,” Sam mumbled, more to himself, continuously shaking his head in disbelief. “When I came to check, they were both gone.”

Baffled, she blinked at him, seeking the truth in his words until her expression softened. She had no idea why Crowley would take Dean’s body, or what that note meant. Whether it was a petty, sick joke by the King of Hell or if it meant Dean was still out there somewhere, they had to find him.

“We will make it right,” she muttered, loosening her grip on Sam’s elbows. “Like we always do. We’ll find him.”

Hunters go through the five stages of grief like it’s a regular routine. A ritual, if you will. This life came with so much loss and pain. You’d think at some point you’d get used to it. To death all around you, to preparing yet another hunter’s burial.

But the fact that Dean was gone hit her like a whiplash. She didn’t even get to process any of it, no closure, nothing to make her know for sure where he was, whether he was okay, if there was still a chance. If she was still allowed to hope.

It took them weeks. Several weeks of trial and error. Tracking down Crowley did nothing. They had zero clues. No matter how many demons they asked, nobody knew what happened to Dean Winchester. The angels were fighting their own battle. Fellow hunters hadn’t seen or heard from him either.

She felt like she was slowly going insane. Her mind was a liminal space — she got the sense that she was thrown into cold water without knowing how to properly swim. She managed to keep her head up somewhat, but for how much longer could she take all of this?

At this point Sam and her were grasping at straws. The bigger fish in that vast ocean of questions were no help, so they had to dive deeper. They couldn’t afford to leave a stone unturned.

And who knew that a seemingly random case would prove to be their number one lead so far?

“I don’t know what to tell you, man,” the cashier sighed and awkwardly rubbed his neck. A young man, probably working a part-time job at this gas station. The poor bystanding citizen went over what he saw once more. “This guy was just browsing through zines, then this other guy charged at him and he— KAPOW! BAM! — He just stabbed him. Kinda badass, honestly.”

Maybe not so poor after all. The guy seemed ecstatic about his eventful day at a rather boring job.

Sam and her exchanged a glance, unsure of what to make of the worker’s thrilled testimony.

Pointing at the surveillance cameras in the corner, she asked: “Mind if we check the tapes?”

They were lead to the computers in the back and the gas station attendant opened the recordings for them. Sam put three of the videos side by side, two showing the interior of the store, one being an angle from outside.

As she saw the Impala roll in on one of the clips, her eyes widened. She physically leapt forward, pushing Sam aside and zooming in on the figure stepping out of the familiar vehicle.

Her heart began racing a thousand miles per hour as she recognized what was undoubtedly her boyfriend walking into the gas station.

Then, Dean was alive after all? But it made no sense. Why was he not calling her, how did he survive that fight against Metatron?

So many questions flooded her mind that she was barely paying attention to the footage of some man coming up to Dean, clearly going for a strike. Dean dodged the attack and sunk the First Blade into the stranger. After that, he just left, taking that magazine along and driving away.

She barely registered Sam’s arm reaching over her to pause the video. He rewound it and played it again in slow motion, frame by frame until his trained eye prompted him to hit pause again.

Dean’s eyes were entirely consumed by a pitch black darkness. Demonic, soulless pits of black.

Something deep within her core collapsed as she connected the dots. Ignoring Sam’s attempts of stopping her, she made a beeline towards the exit. Clumsy fingers fished for her phone and she hastily dialed Crowley’s number.

His thick accent and smug tone made her want to reach through the line and rip out his tongue. “Colour me surprised. What can I do for the Winchester’s dearest?”

She didn’t even bother with a proper hello, let alone with reacting to his teasing greeting.

“I swear whatever demon is using Dean’s body as a meatsuit, I’ll send both them and you straight into hellfire myself,” she snarled through gritted teeth, fueled by a rage she’s never experienced before. She could only imagine the anger the Mark of Cain always caused for Dean, but she assumed her own came pretty close to the same level just then and there.

It earned her little more than a bemused chuckle.

Oh, that bastard was done for on so many levels.

“Crowley, I swear to all that’s holy I will—”

“Charming,” he interrupted her cursing, “But it’s all him, love.”

What?

“Call it the new and improved Dean,” Crowley hummed nonchalantly. “I did say the Mark of Cain would give him a nice and fancy upgrade, didn’t I?”

Surprisingly, a scavenger hunt to track down Crowley and/or Dean was even more frustrating than finding Metatron. Now, they all had good reason to getting ahold of that asshole, but Dean came first.

He always did. Plus, she didn’t make that promise for him just to fail him after.

Truth be told, she had no idea what she’d do once she would find him. Or rather, what was left of him. Judging by what Crowley said, the Mark of Cain had finally turned Dean into a monster.

For all they knew he was dangerous, yet she couldn’t care less.

It took her a while, but she managed to find a trail. Apparently the demonic version of the green-eyed hunter was a little more reckless when it came to covering up his traces.

Or maybe he didn’t particularly care about if or who might find him.

Either way, there weren’t many black ’67 Chevys cruising from motel to the next. If her hunch was correct, he was staying at one near her current location — lucky her, on one side. On the other hand, Sam was following a different lead one state over.

She couldn’t just let this chance slip, though. There was not enough time for backup. And, who knew, maybe it was a nothing burger anyway.

To be safe, she sent Sam a text that included the address, and purposefully ignored his reply about how she shouldn’t take risks by going alone.

She made her way to a motel that looked more run down than most of the ones even she was used to. It almost looked abandoned, definitely old, were it not for the bar on the other side of the street. That one was buzzing with light and music even from the buildings adjacent to it.

And wouldn’t you know it — Baby was parked right in front of said bar, empty.

This was her chance. She was ready to pick every lock of every room if it meant a chance at getting Dean back. The motel was definitely as hauntingly quiet and empty as your average ghost-filled mansion.

But it played into her hands. There wasn’t even any staff present.

Quickly, she snuck behind the reception’s desk and flipped through every document she could find. One name in particular struck her as odd — Joseph Perry. Unless the actual Joe, Aerosmith’s lead guitarist was renting a room in one of America’s most shabby motels, she hit the nail on the head.

One quick text message to Sam — ‘Found him. Room 205, he’s out. I’m going in.’ — and she tiptoed down the hallway. Picking the lock was almost too easy, because not even a minute later she found herself standing in the middle of a two-bedroom.

Instead of flickering on the lights, she resorted to using her phone’s flashlight. No need to draw any attention.

Eagerly, she rummaged through the room. The small closet space was filled with flannels and denim she recognized. Even their scent was familiar, though that brought back emotions she couldn’t focus on right now.

She didn’t even know what she was looking for exactly. Clues to what Dean’s been up to the whole time, where he’d go next. Heck, maybe even the First Blade, if only to take it away from him again.

The dresser between the two beds was next, the drawers of which were empty.

Her snooping and investigating was cut short by the light switch turning on.

Fuck.

Her breath hitched in her throat and she didn’t dare to move a muscle. She knew she’d be done for if he’d catch her trying anything funny.

A deep, gravelly yet smooth, and painfully familiar voice appeared behind her: “Didn’t I say to leave me be, sweetheart?”

He couldn’t possibly know the sting that petname caused. The hollow ache it stirred. How long has it been since she’d hear his voice at all, let alone have him call her that?

His presence alone was enough to make the ends of her hair stand up tall. She wished she could call it a bittersweet reunion, but with these circumstances, it was more of a fight-or-flight instinct than anything.

“You mean that lousy note?,” she choked out and she cursed herself for the way her voice quivered. Damn it, her heart was aching so badly. “You were never a poet, but I was hoping for a more heartfelt goodbye.”

With her back still facing him, her hand slowly slid into the inner pocket of her denim jacket. Her fingers were shaky and sweaty as she curled them around the handle of her angel blade.

His voice echoed in her memories; “When things go to shit, you have to stop it.”

The look of desperation in his green eyes.

The very same green eyes she was met with upon spinning around and raising her weapon. She felt as though she was the one being stabbed.

“Stop me.”

How could she possibly do it? How could she keep such a promise? How could he ask something like that of her?

Her movement faltered midway. Not that she stood much of a chance anyway. Within a flash of a second, her wrist was captured by Dean, her arm twisted forward and around until she dropped the blade.

The silver object clattered on the floor and along with it, her heart dropped too.

“I thought I recognized that car of yours outside,” Dean hummed thoughtfully, his intense gaze scanning her up and down. “You just couldn’t let me be, huh?”

The huntress yelped softly as he shoved her back against the dresser.

The wooden edge was digging right into her lower back, an uncomfortable bite against her spine as she found herself trapped between the furniture and the twisted version of the love of her life.

His body pinned hers into an immobile state. He was close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath against the shell of her ear.

“So what’s the grande plan here?,” he grinned, lips brushing against the juncture of her jaw ever so slightly. “Your pretty face shows up, you bat those eyelashes and then what?”

She tensed up visibly, clenching her jaw. She didn’t have an answer. Maybe she should’ve thought this through, but then again, she didn’t think that she’d actually run into him.

Using her other hand, she tried reaching for her other pocket. However, before she even had the chance of pulling out the anti-demon handcuffs, Dean grabbed that hand too, encircling both of her wrists in one iron grasp.

The cuffs fell down right next to the angel blade and for good measure, Dean kicked both items haphazardly into a random direction, so long as it was out of reach for her.

“Don’t get sneaky on me now, doll,” he muttered and the dangerous, grumbling edge in his voice had her shudder. “I asked you a question.”

Her only chance of getting out of this was to buy more time.

“Can you run that by me again? I wasn’t really paying attention.”

Whilst Dean’s lips twitched into a smirk, he didn’t appreciate her teasing attitude. His other hand darted up and found home around the delicate of her throat. A choked gasp errupted from her as she felt his fingers wrap snugly around her windpipes.

While it definitely hurt, it wasn’t enough to do any actual damage. He was applying just enough pressure to make her head all dizzy and her panic all spiked.

“Always a witty comment,” he tutted, clicking his tongue as he leaned closer. “Never knows when to shut that pretty mouth of hers, until it’s put to good use.”

She couldn’t suppress the heat rising to her cheeks if she tried. Not that she wasn’t used to him being assertive, but the intensity of this was downright dangerous.

“You clearly didn’t think this through, doll,” he whispered, his hot breath tickling her lips. “You have no idea what you’re up against.”

Black flashed across his eyes, dark and consuming.

It should’ve scared her, and it’s not like she wasn’t aware that he could so easily snuff out her life. He’d have to squeeze just a little harder. He’d just have to flick his wrist. But how could she focus on fear when every fiber of her being was consumed by guilt?

She swore she’d save him from this, and she failed so miserably.

“Promise me you’ll put an end to it if things go wrong. Please.” His plea rang through her mind still, clear as a bell.

“I promise I’ll do everything I can,” she had nodded back then. “If we run out of options, I’ll do it.”

An ultimatium. The last resort. As long as there was so much as a slither of hope—

It was still Dean. Her Dean, demon or not. That thought was equally comforting and devastating. The lines were as blurry as the swirl of her emotions.

“You’re not my enemy, Dean,” she tried, her voice strained through the chokehold he still had on her. “It’s the Mark, you’re not yourself.”

Dean barked out a laugh and shook his head, his eyes emerald once more. “And that’s where you’re wrong, doll. I’ve never felt better.”

As if to demonstrate, his hands vanished from her wrists and throat, seizing her hips instead. He lifted her up with ease and shoved her on top of the dresser with such sudden force that her hands instinctively sought an anchor in his arms.

Arms she used to rely on — they’d lull her to sleep, they’d welcome her home, they’d provide her with warmth. Arms she had taken for granted. Arms she had missed feeling around her.

Large hands slipped under her jacket, greedily pawing at her waist and she stiffened at the sensation of his warm fingers slipping under her shirt. His touch still felt the same and she didn’t know which was worse: That it still had the same effect on her or that Dean knew.

“Dean,” she uttered, all breathless and not even coming close to making it sound like a protest.

“Isn’t this what you came here for?”

He didn’t even give her time to process his question, let alone come up with an answer. Rough hands pulled her impossibly closer until he stood between her thighs, towering over her like some unyielding wall.

“To see me,” he went on — and damn it if months of lonely, sleepless nights didn’t turn his voice into the most alluring siren’s song for her. He brought his forehead down to hers and all her eyes could focus on was the shape of his lips. “To feel me?”

Guilty as charged, evident by her giving in to the magnetic pull.

The question of who closed the gap between them was overshadowed by the fact that their mouths all but crashed together. A burning hunger took over, consuming and demanding, and leading to a devouring rather than just a kiss.

It wasn’t pretty by any means. Just a tangled mess of bumping noses and clashing teeth, of hands wandering and exploring and claiming.

A whimper of hers fueled Dean to shove her jacket off her shoulders, whereas pride filled her upon drawing a grunt from his lips with just a simple tug on his sandy hair.

The taste of him was as intoxicating as she remembered it to be, not least because of the whiskey sticking to his tongue.

Her body fell into old habits as if no time had passed. Her back arched instinctively and she completely melted into his embrace — those arms welcoming her home once more —, even as his warm lips worked a path down her jawline.

Clearly Dean still had her body perfectly memorized all the same, knowing exactly which buttons to push. Sharp teeth grazed across her pulse, before the swipe of a warm tongue soothed over the sting.

“Gotta say, sweetheart,” Dean muttered, his words husky and muffled by her flushed skin as he nibbled down her collarbones. “I did miss this. Always so damn responsive.”

Her fingers combed through strands of hair that had grown longer since she last saw him.

So much time has passed. So much has happened since. But have things really changed?

“I missed you, too.”

She knew that was neither what he said nor what he meant, yet she couldn’t help but yearn. She couldn’t help but trust. It’s always been her greatest weakness. Dean always has been her greatest weakness.

His grip tightened on her curves until she was sure she’d be covered in finger-shaped marks.

Good. ‘Cause if he were to ever slip away from her again, she’d want all the traces of him she could keep, locked deep within her. Every single bruise. She’d want his bite to infect her from the inside.

She buried her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent with the intent to catalogue it into the depth of her brain.

A soft click from the other end of the room made her heart flip.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” she whispered.

They only had this one chance.

Her hands cupped his jawline, fingers caressing stubbled skin as if handling porcelain, and her lips found his in a softer kiss.

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated gently, letting him taste and swallow the words.

Her apology confused him enough to distract him.

Sam took the opportunity, capturing Dean’s arms from behind and securing them behind his back. The handcuffs snapped into place around his wrists, the engraved pentagrams rendering the demon pretty much powerless.

Dean growled and writhed in protest to his brother yanking him away. He was like a caged animal, baring his teeth as well as his inky eyes. Kicking and screaming got him nowhere, though.

With combined strength, Sam and her managed to drag him back to the Impala, where they pushed him into the backseat.

Sam slammed the door shut, taking a deep breath. She half expected him to scold her for tackling this by herself. But his expression held nothing but concern as his eyes gave her a once-over.

“You okay?”

Was she? Honestly, she didn’t even know anymore.

From the corners of her eyes she glanced through the backseat window. Dean sat there fuming silently, his dark eyes screaming bloody murder as he glared at Sam and her.

“We basically just arrested a demonic Dean, I’ll take it as a win,” she shrugged, deflecting the question with weak humor.

Sam’s eyes followed the direction of her gaze. Undoubtedly, he was also glad that they managed to find and capture him. But the real challenge was still ahead of them.

“Did he hurt you?,” he asked.

“I’m okay,” she said through a clenched jaw and shook her head. “Thanks for your help back there.”

With that, she slid into the passenger seat. That was as much conversation as she was comfortable with. She knew Sam had questions, but she didn’t have any answers. It was all a haze for her too.

Sam rounded the car and got behind the wheel. His nose scrunched up in disgust as he shoved empty beer cans off the dashboard.

“It’s just a car,” Dean scoffed from the back, rolling his eyes. Yeah, alright, the Mark of Cain had not just corrupted him, Dean was definitely beside himself. That might’ve just been the most concerning thing she’s ever heard him say.

Sam was still busy clearing trash out of his seat. A glance towards the woman next to him confirmed his suspicions that her side wasn’t any cleaner.

She picked up a black bra from the floor, along with a ripped condom wrapper. Lovely. Crumpling both the foil and the fabric in her fist, she sent the damned things flying out of the window.

“Good to know someone was having fun the past few months,” she grumbled, pain obviously lacing her tone.

Again, she had to remind herself that this wasn’t Dean. Not really. Or at least a Dean that wasn’t thinking straight. Still, the idea of him roaming the streets like the world was a banquet at his feet, while she was working day and night to save him, made her sick to her stomach.

Knowing she wouldn’t like Dean’s response anyway, she turned on the radio. She didn’t want an explanation, much less any smug mockery. All she wanted was to get back to the Bunker and put an end to this nightmare.

Just like she had promised.

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deans-queen · 8 days ago

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𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐰

Pairing: Dean x Y/N (Female Reader)

Summary: Y/N finds Dean cheating on her with Lisa.

Warnings: angst, light smut (nothing too crazy), mentions of cheating, language. (Let me know if I miss any)

Pre-AN: This fills the "I thought it'd be hell, but I was wrong. It was way worse." square for @jacklesversebingo. This fic is also inspired by the song "Take a Bow" by Rhianna -> hence the title. (Bold/italic text -> song lyrics)

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

I never thought my heart could break—especially not because of the one person I believed would never hurt me… Dean Winchester.

I stood there, frozen in the doorway of the motel room, my heart pounding like a sledgehammer. The sight in front of me was like a bad dream—Dean, half-dressed, his hands tangled in Lisa’s hair as she giggled against his lips.

It took a moment for them to notice me. When they did, Lisa scrambled to grab her shirt, and Dean’s face fell. “Y/N, wait—”

“Don’t,” I snapped, holding up a trembling hand. My voice cracked, but I refused to cry in front of them. “Don’t you fucking dare, Dean!!”

“And don’t tell me you’re sorry,” I spat, my voice sharp enough to cut glass. “Cause you’re not.”

“Y/N, it’s not what it looks like—”

I laughed, the sound bitter and broken. “Really? Because from where I’m standing, it looks exactly like what it is. A show. A goddamn performance. Bravo, Dean. Go on and take your FUCKING bow!”

Lisa mumbled something about leaving, but I didn’t even look at her as she slipped out the door. My focus was entirely on Dean—the man who’d claimed to love me, who’d made me believe I was his everything.

“Y/N, that’s not fair.”

“Fair?” I stepped closer, jabbing a finger into his chest. “You want to talk about fair? I gave you everything, Dean. I stood by you through all the crap with Sam, the apocalypse, the Mark of Cain. Hell, I even put up with your obsession with pie. And this is what I get?”

He didn’t have an answer. His jaw clenched, and for once, Dean Winchester—the man with a smartass comment for everything—was silent.

I turned on my heel and walked out, slamming the door behind me.

The days after I walked out of that motel room felt like crawling through shards of glass. I told myself I was better off without him, that I deserved more than what he gave me. But no matter how many times I repeated it, the ache in my chest didn’t fade. It was like carrying a wound that refused to heal.

Every time my phone buzzed, my heart betrayed me, leaping with hope, only to crash when I saw the screen. Dean called constantly at first—voicemails, texts, all pleading for a chance to explain.

“Y/N, please. I screwed up. Just… talk to me. Let me fix this.”

But I couldn’t bear to hear his voice, not when it haunted me even in silence.

Nights were the worst. I’d lie awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling, his words playing over and over in my head. That stupid, broken look on his face when I caught him. The way his voice cracked as he tried to justify the unjustifiable.

Don’t tell me you’re sorry, ‘cause you’re not…

Baby when I know you’re only sorry you got caught

But you put on quite a show, really had me going…

Now it’s time to go, curtains finally closing

I tried to hate him, to convince myself he was just like every other man who’d let me down. But that was the problem—Dean wasn’t like anyone else. He was everything. The way he’d look at me, like I was the only thing that mattered in his world. The way he’d pull me close after a hunt, his lips on my forehead, whispering that he’d always keep me safe. And yet, he was the one who’d broken me.

I couldn’t escape the memories, no matter how hard I tried. Every corner of my life was touched by him. The leather jacket he’d left draped over the back of my chair. The stupid pie recipe he’d convinced me to try, still pinned to my fridge. Even my car smelled faintly of his cologne, like it was mocking me every time I climbed in.

My best friend tried to help. She dragged me out for drinks, told me I deserved better, cursed Dean’s name with a venom that should’ve made me feel better.

But it didn’t. Because deep down, I knew she was wrong. Dean wasn’t a bad man. He was a broken one. And maybe that’s why it hurt so much—because he’d been broken long before me, and I’d foolishly thought I could be the one to fix him.

Weeks passed, and the silence between us stretched, but the ache never faded. I avoided places I thought he might show up, though part of me secretly hoped he would. Maybe he’d come to the diner where I worked, storming through the door with that determined look in his eyes, telling me he wasn’t giving up.

But he didn’t.

So I told myself I was moving on. I focused on work, threw myself into tasks, and pretended I didn’t notice the empty space beside me where Dean used to be.

But late at night, when the world was quiet and there was no one to distract me, I’d feel it—the crushing weight of losing him. Not just the man who’d kissed me like I was the air he needed to breathe, but the partner who’d fought beside me, the friend who’d laughed with me, the lover who’d held me when the nightmares came.

Loving Dean had been both the best and worst decision of my life. Because even though he’d broken me, even though I knew I deserved better, I couldn’t stop loving him. And that was the cruelest part of all.

The next day there was a knock on my door. It was soft but insistent, cutting through the quiet hum of rain outside. I didn’t need to look through the peephole to know who it was. I’d felt his presence long before I opened the door.

When I finally turned the handle, there he was—Dean Winchester, soaking wet, his rain-drenched hair falling over his forehead, and his leather jacket clinging to his broad shoulders. His eyes locked on mine, a storm of emotions swirling in that familiar green.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice rough like gravel, his breath coming in shallow pants as if he’d run here.

“Dean,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. I didn’t want him here, not after everything he’d done. And yet, the sight of him—so broken, so desperate��tugged at something deep in me.

“Don’t shut me out,” he pleaded, stepping forward, but not too close, like he was afraid I’d slam the door in his face. “I know I don’t deserve you. Hell, I don’t deserve even a second of your time after what I did. But I couldn’t stay away anymore.”

I crossed my arms, trying to shield myself from the wave of emotions crashing over me. “You’ve got some nerve showing up here.”

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking. “But I can’t do this, Y/N. I thought I could live without you, thought I could figure out a way to move on, but I was wrong. God, I was so wrong.” He raked a hand through his hair, his frustration bleeding into his words. “I thought it would be hell without you, but I was wrong. It was worse—so much worse.”

His words hit me like a punch to the chest, and I had to grip the doorframe to steady myself. “You think a pretty speech is going to fix this?” I asked, my voice trembling. “You broke me, Dean. You destroyed me. Do you even understand what you did to me?”

“I do,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper as he stepped closer. His green eyes burned into mine, raw and vulnerable. “I wake up every day and hate myself for it. For letting you walk out, for betraying you. For being the kind of guy you could never trust again.”

I wanted to yell at him, to shove him away, but the look on his face—like he was unraveling right in front of me—made my anger falter.

“I didn’t come here to ask you to forgive me,” he continued, his voice shaking. “I came here because I can’t breathe without you, Y/N. I don’t know how to exist in a world where you’re not mine.”

“Dean,” I started, my voice wavering, but he cut me off.

“I love you,” he said, stepping closer, his hand hovering near my cheek but not quite touching. “And I know I don’t deserve to say it after what I did, but it’s the truth. I love you so damn much it’s killing me.”

His words unraveled the fragile walls I’d built around my heart. A sob escaped my throat, and before I could stop myself, I whispered, “I hate that I still love you.”

Dean exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for weeks. He closed the small gap between us, his hands finally cradling my face with a gentleness that brought fresh tears to my eyes.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life proving I’m worthy of you,” he murmured, his forehead resting against mine. “Just… please, Y/N. Let me try.”

Before I could respond, his lips found mine. The kiss wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was soft, searching, like he was asking for permission with every brush of his lips. His hands slid to my waist, pulling me closer, and I let myself melt into him, my arms wrapping around his neck.

“I’ve missed this,” he whispered against my lips, his breath warm and tinged with desperation. “Missed the way you taste, the way you feel in my arms.”

“Dean,” I breathed, tilting my head back as his lips trailed down my jaw and neck. My body betrayed me, leaning into his touch, craving him despite everything.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice low and possessive. “You’ve always been mine, Y/N. And I’ll never let you go again.”

I pulled back slightly, my hands on his chest. “You broke me once, Dean. If you do it again, I swear I won’t make it so easy for you…”

“I won’t,” he interrupted, his eyes fierce as he cupped my face. “I swear on everything, Y/N. There’s no one else. There never was. It was always you.”

The raw honesty in his voice shattered the last of my defenses. I kissed him again, harder this time, pouring all my pain, anger, and love into it. He groaned into my mouth, his hands tangling in my hair as he deepened the kiss.

For the first time in weeks, I felt whole. Dean might have broken me, but he was the only one who could put me back together. And as I let him pull me into his arms, I realized I wasn’t ready to give up on us—not yet.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞🤍

Ya’ll writing this one broke me 😭 but that’s the part of this challenge is to write out of my comfort zone. I’m always getting inspired by songs. Also I don’t picture Dean as someone who would EVER cheat but for the sake of this story I made him this way — don’t crucify me 🫣

ANYWAYS! I hope you enjoyed this one — I love you all!

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queen-of-deans-booty · 5 months ago

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The Aftershock

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~1.7k

Warnings: minor angst

Summary: The after-effects of taking the Mark creep in slowly and you’re not sure if taking it on was the best thing for you. Dean once had it so you go to him in hopes he might have tips on how to manage the anger you know you’ll experience.

Past, Present, and Future Masterlist

Square Filled: "Did you forget who you're talking to?" (crossover bingo) for @fandombingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

“What, in your head, told you that taking on something like the Mark of Cain was a good idea? Do you realize what could happen?”

“I know, Stephen, but Dean and Sam needed me. What was I supposed to do? Let them suffer?”

“No, you were supposed to use rational thought.”

“What do you want me to do now? You have magic. Take it off me.”

“It’s not that simple.” Stephen turns and curses under his breath. “Let me figure this out. This is exactly why I didn’t want you going off on your own.”

“I’m not a child, Stephen,” you glare.

“Your action proves otherwise.”

Stephen told you to stay close but there is one place you want to be at, and it’s nowhere near New York. He’s a smart man. He’ll find a way to get you out of this before something bad happens. The Mark is starting to mess with your head so you go to the one person who might understand how to make you feel better.

You don’t knock and sneak inside the same way you did when you first entered the Bunker. There is noise coming from the kitchen where Dean is, and his back is turned to you as he does the dishes. He doesn’t notice you standing there until he turns to grab two dirty dishes off the kitchen island.

“Shit!” he jumps. “What are you doing here? You scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble and scratch your arm absentmindedly.

“Are you okay? Are we okay? Tell me we didn’t do anything bad.”

“No, everything is okay, still. How is Sam doing?”

“Okay. He doesn’t remember much from his time as a demon albeit it short. He thinks it’s from the stress. I don’t know.”

“That’s good,” you nod, distracted.

“Is everything okay?”

“I need you to be honest with me.” He doesn’t say anything but patiently waits for you to continue. “How was life with the Mark?”

“Honestly? A nightmare. I was angry all the time. I was lashing out at people, and I had the urge to kill anything in sight. The Mark is a curse. It wants you to feed it with power. It never stopped… itching.” Dean looks at your hand scratching the arm your mark is on. “Kind of like what you’re doing now.”

“I feel bad for what I did to you and Sam which is why I took this mark. Now… I’m trying really hard not to let it affect my powers.”

Dean dries his hands and leaves the remaining dirty dishes in the sink before grabbing your hand.

“Come on. I have something that might help you with that.” He takes you down to the shooting range where everything is stocked and ready to use. “Have you ever shot a gun?”

“I have a powerful infinity stone on my wrist. Does it look like I need to shoot a gun?”

“Don’t be rude,” he says. “It’s always a good skill to have and right now, you’re going to learn.”

Dean grabs one of the smaller guns and stands behind you. You’re about to turn to face him when he puts one of his warm hands on your waist. Something blossoms in your stomach like tiny little glitters floating around. He pulls you into his wait and those glitters explode into butterflies. What is this feeling? Why do I like it so much?

Dean wraps his arms around your body and puts the gun in your hands with his on top of yours. He positions you where he needs you and removes his hands from your own but keeps them on your body.

“Focus on the target ahead of you. Aim and follow through. When you’re ready, pull the trigger.”

You aim the gun at your target and much like what you do with your powers, you focus on your target alone. You pull the trigger and shoot the target right between the eyes.

“You’re a natural,” he grins.

He runs his hands down your arms to your waist and settles on your hips. Your breathing picks up slightly and it’s not from the anxiety you feel. You hate this—not Dean this—the Mark this. You were always calm and collected, and you never lost your cool because you knew you were so much higher than mere humans. Call that arrogance but you never had a reason to feel things like anxiety, anger, and lust.

Just another thing this damn mark did you.

You turn in Dean’s arms so you’re less than a foot away from his face. He glances down at your lips before looking into your eyes.

“I don’t think this will work. Do you have something else to try?”

“Yeah, follow me.”

He pauses for two seconds before moving away from you. You see the hesitation in his eyes and you’re not sure if it’s hesitation for you or what you two are about to do next.

He takes you upstairs to the library where his precious mini bar is. After six months in the Bunker, he bought a mini bar on wheels where he keeps his good alcohol. He rolls the bar over to one of the tables and sits down before putting his feet up. You sit across from him and he leisurely pours you two a drink.

“I read alcohol isn’t the best when you have bottled up emotions on the internet.”

“Don’t listen to everything you read online.” He slides you a half-poured whiskey drink without ice. “Sip, don’t chug.” You grab the glass and take a small sip not expecting it to taste like shit. “Yeah, it’s an acquired taste.”

“Oh, God,” you cough.

“Never had alcohol before, huh?”

“I may have been born before time but I’m fairly young. Stephen only made me a person a few years ago.” Dean takes a big sip of his drink and sighs. “So, the Mark was a nightmare?”

“For me, yeah, but you’re not human. You’ll have a different experience than me. If anyone can do it and still stay good, it’s you.”

“You don’t know me.”

“No, I don’t, but we never had powers that are older than time.”

You take another sip of your drink and scrunch your face up in disgust.

“I’m scared I’m going to hurt people. It was my choice to take but I shouldn’t have done what I did to you and Sam. Before coming to your world, all I saw was a solution to your problem. Put God and Amara away. I did that. I just didn’t think of the consequence it would leave behind.”

“You’ll fight this, Y/N, better than I ever did.”

You tap your fingers on the table rapidly because of your anxiety.

“Do you ever feel like you want to do the right thing and when you do it, it feels like the most wrong thing ever?”

“Did you forget who you’re talking to?” Dean chuckles. “I didn’t want Sam going through what I went through.”

“I get it,” you nod.

“You are not Sam or me. You’re not going to go through it the same way.”

“I hope not,” you smile sadly. “No offense but this alcohol is making me depressed. Got anything else?”

Dean just smirks. He doesn’t tell you where you’re going, only that you’re going to love it. He takes you to a run-down building in an empty shopping area. It’s nearly closing time but he must have asked the wiener to stay open later just for him.

“Dean, what is this place?”

“A place to channel the rage.”

After checking in with the owner, he takes you to the back room which is covered with graffiti, spray paint, and broken items everywhere. Dean grabs two baseball bats from the back and tosses one to you.

“What do I do now?”

“Be like the Hulk. Smash absolutely everything.”

Dean takes the first swing at a broken TV and you jump back from the sound. It takes you two seconds before you're swinging your own bat around. Dean jumps back so he doesn’t get hit but he watches you smash things with a smile on his face. You slam the bat into a ceramic vase, and it shatters into a million little pieces.

This is actually kind of fun.

“Check this out!”

You aim your hand at the TV Dean hit and blast it with your powers. You leave a gaping hole in the middle of the TV, and Dean looks at you with a nervous chuckle.

“Why don’t we stick to the bats? I don’t think they’ll appreciate you blowing this place up.”

“Oops,” you giggle.

You and Dean take the entire hour just smashing everything to pieces until there is nothing left to break. You two leave the place with big smiles on your faces despite you still feeling the nagging sensation of the Mark. What Dean did for you helped but now that it’s over, the darkness creeps in slowly.

Dean looks over and sees the look on your face. It’s a look he knows all too well. He opens the passenger door for you but doesn’t let you in the car yet.

“You know what else helps?”

“What?”

“A nice long drive with the windows down. There’s nothing like the open road, rock music, and the wind in your hair.”

“Okay, lead the way, Winchester,” you grin.

You two pile into the car and Dean takes off toward the back roads. The drive back to the Bunker only takes twenty minutes to get from the rage room but the back roads make the journey stretch to nearly an hour. Dean puts on soft rock and allows that to be the only thing to comfort you two in the car.

The windows are down and your hair is blowing gently, and a wave of calmness washes over you. You don’t think it’s the drive or the music but Dean. Being in Dean’s company is the one thing that’s working for you. You look at him to see him with a smile on his face and singing along to the music. He barely looks at you and does a doubletake when he sees you looking at him.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just… I think I’m going to be okay.”

Dean reaches over and grabs your hand.

“Yeah, I think you will, too.”

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saltbind · 1 year ago

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Which SPN character's crimes are you the #1 defender of to the end of time?

oh man. hm. i have thoughts about this.

like, supernatural is in and of itself a story about these real human beings and people stuck in a narrative they want no part of. living trapped by an illusion of free will that is as ephemeral as most of the spirits they face. they don’t even really start to be able to consistently make their own decisions til after chuck’s defeat. so can they even really be considered liable for their actions prior to that given their whole lives are a playset for an alcoholic deadbeat dad? from that viewpoint pretty much all the characters are equally defendable.

and if you’re going with Classic SPN only, then all those choices are understandable in the context of their incredibly fucked up lives - even if there were better choices to be made. some of them were bad choices - my kingdom for some communication - but they were understandable. i get the characters points of view even if i want to slap em upside the head.

but in terms of like ‘baby did nothing wrong’ i don’t really go in for that so much. i love sam but he fucks up a lot and that’s part of why i love him. i love dean too - but he ALSO fucks up a lot. and that makes them interesting, it makes them human, it makes their commitment to each other and to the world at large more relatable. part of why i love samdean so much is that endless capacity for forgiveness they have for each other.

i’m a character defender as long as their actions are in character basically. there’s no one character i’d do it for - if it makes sense i’m down to defend it. but a lot of SPN characters make choices that aren’t in line with who they are and that i won’t defend because its shitty writing. still, not the characters fault.

like, a lot of what people have an issue with in terms of character specific choices on the show are things that make No Sense for the character. but it’s treated like that’s a choice the character had agency over. they’re fictional.

sam not looking for dean in s8? that was a writers fuckup.

the whole gadreel/mark of cain thing? could have been a good plot if it had been handled with more care. more upsetting because it’s almost in character - but not quite.

so yeah i guess i’m an every character defender. except john but we all know i have personal trauma reasons for that.

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dragonmasterkaylz · 1 year ago

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Let’s Talk about Metatron!!!

Well… um—

“Why are you talking about me behind my back?!”

…

…..

No!!! I know I’m talking about YOU!!! Deanmon, I choose you!!!

Anyway… I’m talking about Metatron from Good Omens. Now, if watching Supernatural has taught me ANYTHING… it’s that Angels are just as bad as Demons! They love meddling, creating wars, need I go on?! And in Good Omens, I don’t see much of a difference, especially in season two. Granted, Gabriel doesn’t have his memories so he’s just a shell of the Angel he used to be. Aziraphale’s job is to make sure that the human race is okay and that nothing bad is happening. The same is said for Crowley, but his job is to meddle in human affairs and to make them succumb to their own temptations. … Right…?

“Pretty much sweetheart”.

NO!!! NOT YOU— but you can stay. I like you~!

ANYWAY… the sudden appearance of Metatron in the sixth episode of season two made me feel very uneasy. Now, let’s just move onto Supernatural for a second. Metatron is the Scribe of God and he has a very important role— sorry… had a very important role. Eventually, he wants to control Heaven since Chuck isn’t around and causes the Angels to Fall, killing some of them in the process. He strips poor Castiel of his grace, turning him into a regular human being. In a desperate attempt to save his brothers life, Dean asks one of these Angels to take over Sam and heal him from this inside. This Angel is called Ezekiel… but then later turns out to be Gadreel, an Angel that follows Metatron. When Castiel comes back to the Bunker, after being found by Dean, he is immediately told to leave as his presence alone is making Gadreel very paranoid. And so, the two are separated, yet again! Later down the line, Metatron kills Dean, which turns him into a Demon because of the Mark of Cain. He tells Castiel this and the poor Angel is left… heartbroken, even though Metatron is no longer in charge of Heaven and Castiel is.

Now, to the sudden appearance of Metatron in Good Omens. He seems like a good guy and he probably just wanted to give Aziraphale the offer of an Angels Eternal Life! We don’t know his true motives yet, so I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. But when our beloved Angel asked him what he was tasked with, his face dropped. The ‘Second Coming’ is basically when Jesus Christ returns to Earth. And from how Aziraphale acted, it’s either not a good thing or it’s just a very difficult task for him to carry out. Maybe he thinks there’s just too much weight on him and that’s why he looked very uncomfortable as soon as Metatron told him what it was. However, something seems very calculating about this new Metatron….

He told Aziraphale that he could ask Crowley to join him and that he has the power to turn him back into an Angel. He asked Aziraphale to do this, instead of asking the Demon himself, which he could’ve done! But he didn’t. Which brings to me to think that he could’ve known that Crowley wouldn’t have agreed to it… because when Aziraphale told him the news, Metatron did seem to know that Crowley was more of a lone wolf. Did he purposely make Aziraphale ask him so the two would argue and part ways on a bad note? Did he want Aziraphale and Crowley to part ways so Heaven and Hell would officially have no connection to one another? Because with Gabriel and Beelzebub gone, they only had one couple tying them together. Crowley and Aziraphale. Hell was very much convinced that Crowley was only using him to get information out of him, that’s why I’m suggesting this. Did he want to sever that forever, so that a war between the two factions could happen? Because if the two are no longer partners and with Crowley on his own, no one can object. So here’s my question:

I think the only way we’ll know the answer to this question is by waiting for season three to come out, and watching it. Personally, I cannot live with that ending!!! It’s almost as bad as when Castiel told Dean that he loved him and then was taken by the Empty!!!

“Kayleigh… please stop reminding me…!”

DEAN!!! I’M SORRY FOR BRINGING IT UP AGAIN!!!

Why am I bringing Supernatural into this, you ask? Well, because I can! Also, because my silliness knows absolutely no bounds. Hehe~! 😋

You can agree with me or disagree with me. But I haven’t trusted a single Angel in Good Omens, apart from our hot chocolate loving Aziraphale. Please let me know if I was wrong on any of the points I’ve made by the way and if I am, I’m so sorry.

End of Kayleigh’s Rant

#good omens #supernatural #metatron #good omens metatron

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antigonewinchester · 2 years ago

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15x08 Nice that the writers rectonned the Cage/Hell time so Adam & Michael were only there for 10 years. Makes Sam and Dean a little less terrible.

DEAN: Adam, I want you to know we are sorry. What happened to you… You're a good man. You didn't deserve that. ADAM: Since when do we get what we deserve? Good luck.

Again, foreshadowing for the ending, Rowena stopping demon deals so people end up “where they belong,” Dean (and Sam) getting the Heaven they “deserve,” and all that.

15x09 Another ep I’ve seen and don’t particularly like :) Again, it’s Berens’s characterization of Dean and how he resolves the emotional conflicts, blurgh.

I’ve mentioned before how similar Dean’s speech about being angry in this ep is like Sam’s speech about being angry in 5x11, esp how in an earlier draft of 15x09, the writing had Dean talk about blaming people unfairly, even more similarly to 5x11. And I just don’t buy Berens’s characterization of Dean as “always” angry, because Dean hasn’t always been angry in the way he gets characterized as in later seasons. Dean talking about how he “[gets] so angry” and “can’t stop it” sounds directly like something that could’ve been said during the Mark of Cain arc, you know? And Berens (plus other writers) then kept that characterization of Dean thru the rest of the show, and it’s just... frustrating. No character development for Dean, he gets to be the angry resentful guy with or without taking on the evil murder curse.

CAS: Well, this place will bring that out in you. Guilt. It was my fault the Leviathan got out. It was my fault we were here the first time. I carry that guilt every day. DEAN: I know you're sorry, Cas. About Bel, about Mom. CAS: I was talking about Jack. I already apologized to you. You just refused to hear it. DEAN: Sorry I brought it up. Maybe if you didn't just up and leave us. CAS: You didn't give me a choice. You couldn't forgive me. And you couldn't move on. You were too angry. I left, but you didn't stop me. ... DEAN: No, no, no. [Dean looks around and then speaks quietly in prayer] Cas? Cas, I hope you can hear me... that wherever you are, it's not too late. I should've stopped you. You're my best friend, but I just let you go. 'Cause it was easier than admitting I was wrong. [Dean breaks down, sniffles, and then kneels at the base of the tree] I – Ohh. I don't know why I get so angry. I just know – I know that it's – i-it's just always been there. And when things go bad, it just – it comes out. And I can't -- I can't stop it. No matter how – [Sniffles] how bad I want to, I just can't stop it. And – And I – I forgive you. Of course I forgive you. I'm sorry it took me so long – [Sniffles] I'm sorry it took me till now to say it. Cas, I'm – I'm so sorry. Man, I hope you can hear me. I hope you can hear me. [Sniffling] Okay.

It feels like Berens’s treats Dean’s resentments as significant because it unfairly hurts whomever he’s mad at, so the right thing for Dean to do is to let go of his hurt feelings to make everything better, for the sake of his relationships, for the sake of other people... This framing almost paints Dean’s anger as something he’s doing punish or hurt Cas, instead of Dean himself feeling hurt and not wanting to be around him. It’s a striking similar (and dysfunctional) notion to Bobby’s speech from 4x22 about how family is supposed to hurt, so get over it already. Cas feels guilty, and he apologized, so Dean should forgive him and he’s a dick for not doing so. But Cas could have stayed with Dean even if Dean didn’t forgive him. I think Cas leaving was the right call, but Dean didn’t make him leave, Cas chose to do that, and so him framing it as Dean being too angry/unforgiving/giving him the cold shoulder is shifting the responsibility/agency for Cas’s choices onto Dean. (Thinking of fandom, it’s kind of funny for Cas to criticize Dean for not stopping him leaving, because you know people would call Dean a controlling asshole if he had tried to stop Cas from leaving at the end of 15x03! And I’ve already seen people call Dean a controlling jerk for how he actually acts at the end of ep.)

There’s also how Dean’s speech here really sucks because it raises some major red flags - somebody talking about being angry and not being able to “stop it” or not being control of their anger is… not a good sign. Again, I don’t think Berens intended it to be read as harshly as you could read it, but I can see how/why someone could interpret it that way, even if I don’t myself.

On another note, we’ve again got vampires connected to a monstrous family, in the bad ending having Sam & Dean “giving up” on being heroes and becoming killer vampires. The metaphysics of how the writers think about the world becomes clearer, too. The solution isn’t to lock away (or kill) God, but to replace him with someone better, who ends up being Jack. It ends up very, the King is dead, long live the King. I do think people want the show to be a much more revolutionary text that it was ever going to be, and so people wish the ending had gone further, but... the show was never going to fully upend the system. Wasn’t cool enough for that, unfortunately. So Sam and Dean (and Jack) do end up ‘defeating’ Chuck, but I don’t think the show was ever going to end in a world without God or without a Heaven, not at this point.

#spn rewatch #michael #adam #dean & cas #season 15

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sarah-dipitous · 1 year ago

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Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 223

The Executioner’s Song

“The Executioner’s Song”

Plot Description: Cain’s return leaves Sam, Dean, and Castiel scrambling. But when Crowley agrees to help them, he finds himself in an awkward position

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: as someone not currently on death row, I’m pretty sure I’m safe.

Omg. You can SO tell that Timothy was also in the midst of playing King Richard on Galavant during this time

Cain when we first meet him/Cain now/King Richard

I didn’t expect to have one of my hobbies validated by Dean Winchester today AS I’m both cross stitching AND watching spn, but I also wouldn’t have imagined he’d be a Taylor Swift fan…and that happened too. Anyway, I’m glad he was on the correct side of the whole true crime phenomenon “bass fishing, needle point, that’s a hobby. Collecting serial killer stats is an illness”

Oooooooo Dean recognizes Cain, and Sam can see the effect that has on Dean

It’s nice to see Cas back, even if he’s torturing and killing demons

The SHAAAAAAAAADE, Rowena. The way she’s completely undermining Crowley. I love her more every day

Oh shit, son. That massive grave site of Cain’s victims Cas is standing in the middle of. Holy shit, dude. “This is a massacre” “yes, and soon it’ll be a genocide.” He’s looking to LITERALLY decimate the human race by getting rid of every single one of his descendants

Rowena makes me just A LITTLE BIT regret chopping my hair and letting the color begin to grow out

Ooooo Dean’s gonna try to kill Cain. This is getting goooooood

Godddddddddddddddd it’s so rare that Dean admits he’s scared, ESPECIALLY for himself. He’s fine with going down swinging, but he didn’t think it would be so soon

Oh this poor kid they’re using as bait for Cain

Cas’s powers don’t work AT ALL against Cain??

The boys didn’t see how bad Castiel got the first time he started losing stolen grace

The worried looks everyone is giving Dean. I KNOW those four make it past this episode but I’m still at the edge of my seat (metaphorically. I’m actually laying in bed)

I’m enjoying this standoff between Dean and Cain just a little too much

Yeah, babes, you think you can summon the blade to you using the force when CAIN is there trying to do the same? Nah…

If there’s one thing about a Timothy Omundson character I’ve invested in, it’s that he’s going to have a very specific blade that belongs only to him

Cain literally kicking Dean around and basically going “you are GOING to feel the Cain Instinct, like they talk about on tumblr”

When at first you tried to disarm Cain, I didn’t think you meant like THAT

And now Dean begging Cain to know that this can be stopped. Cain’s so unrepentant, I love it

Oh, what a beautiful gesture, instead of giving the blade back to Crowley, Dean hands it to Cas

And with two betrayals in one day by his former bestie, Crowley’s not going to take this lightly…

Here’s the thing. Rowena’s manipulation of Crowley up til now has been VERY obvious…but now? I truly believe her when she says that he’s squandering his kingly powers, that he’s the Winchesters’ bitch…because there’s probably SOME truth in her feelings behind what she’s saying and Crowley is DEFINITELY feeling this way

Here’s the other thing…Dean’s now the primary holder, possibly the ONLY holder of the Mark of Cain. It might as well be the Mark of Dean, now. Sam knows he’s in trouble

#hellsite nostalgia tour 2023

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avanatural · 3 years ago

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The Hookup Henley

Summary: Dean is struggling with the Mark of Cain. Y/N, his best friend, wants to make him feel better. Will she succeed? What happens when the mark takes over?

Pairing: Dean x female Reader

Category: Angst, smut, fluff, 18+

Word count: 5.1k

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, explicit sexual content, semi-public sex, penetrative sex, both protected and unprotected sex (Wrap it up!), MoC!Dean

Prompts:

“I’m too old for this shit.”

Night club

Dean’s green Henley

Square filled: Friends with benefits @spnmixedbingo

A/N: This story contains smut! Do not read if you are under the age of 18! I wrote this fic for @libre1rose8 300 Follower Celebration! Congratulations again, my friend! 💕 You deserve every single follower and so many more! 😘 I hope you enjoy my contribution to your challenge (that totally took on a life of its own) 💗 Dividers by the talented @talesmaniac89 😊

Dean Winchester Masterlist

SPN Mixed Bingo 2021 Masterlist

Main Masterlist

“Come on, Dean, just try it! For me. Please?”

Dean tossed his head back, sighing in exasperation. “I’m too old for this shit.”

Y/N walked into his bedroom, coming to a halt in front of him. The older Winchester brother was sitting on the floor, leaning back against his bed, a stack of books and papers settled in his lap. Y/N placed her hands on her hips, gazing down at him with her tongue stuck between her teeth.

Dean was constantly doing research these days. Holing up in his room. Trying to find a way to get rid of the mark on his arm, or at least to relieve the terrible side effects that it came with. His mossy green eyes had lost their light. The fun-loving, Impala-driving, pie-eating, lady-charming Dean was gone. It pained Y/N to see him like that.

“You’re never too old to have a good time,” she argued, finally getting him to look up, to look her in the eye. And boy, did he look tired. “I miss my best friend,” she added.

Dean’s jaw clenched, a tiny spark of guilt flashing through his eyes. He was neglecting his relationships with the people closest to him, he knew that. But the mark was driving him insane. Slowly pushing him over the edge he’d been dancing on for ages. “Y/N, just let it go, okay? I’m fine.”

“Are you?” Y/N crossed her arms over her chest, holding his gaze with determination. “Because I’m pretty sure I haven’t seen you smile in weeks.” She missed his smile so bad. The way his pearly white teeth would show. The way his plump lips would curl upward. The faint dimples that would appear on his cheeks.

Dean’s jaw clenched yet again. His mesmerizing, angry eyes glared up at her. “What, and dragging me to the club, of all places, is gonna change that?”, he snapped.

Y/N wasn’t fazed by his attitude. She knew that beneath all the rage and hostility, he was suffering. And no matter how angry he was, she was never going to be afraid of him. “There’s nothing that music, booze, and attractive people can’t let you forget about. At least for a little while.” She bent down and grabbed his hand, pulling on it in an attempt to make him get up.

With a small grunt, Dean complied. Carelessly, he brushed the papers off of his lap and pushed himself up on his feet. Y/N took his other hand as well and started pulling him toward his dresser. With an exaggerated eye roll, Dean trudged along.

“Are you really gonna make me go?”, he sulked, his forehead puckering with annoyance.

“It’ll be fun,” she insisted, wriggling her eyebrows at him, “We’ll find that Hookup Henley of yours, go to the club, get wasted, and look for a beautiful woman for you to go home with.”

Dean scoffed. The Hookup Henley – the green Henley that he tended to wear whenever him and Y/N went looking for hookups. Honestly, he didn’t even believe that this particular shirt was the main ingredient for his success with women.

No. It was Y/N. The huntress was the key to his conquests. She was the perfect wingman. Well, wingwoman. With her smile, she could draw in any woman that Dean fancied. And when Y/N used her sweet voice to introduce him to his chosen ones, the deal was sealed within a matter of seconds.

“I hate you,” he mumbled under his breath as he pulled the green Henley from his drawer.

“You love me,” she corrected, grinning at him, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

A nostalgic smile spread across Y/N’s mouth. It had been way too long since she’d felt the beat of vibrating music in her chest. The night club was packed with people who were dancing, drinking, laughing, chatting. She’d only just entered, but she was already having a good time.

Dean, on the other hand, didn’t like it nearly half as much. The lights were flashing too bright. The music was too upbeat. The people were too happy. He scowled bitterly as he followed his friend through the crowd.

“Come on! This is gonna be great!”, she yelled over the music, taking a hold of his hand. With a bounce in her step, she yanked Dean to the bar.

He rolled his eyes, but to his own dismay, he was unable to stop the teeny-tiny smile that suddenly laced his lips. Who was he kidding? Y/N’s enthusiasm never failed to tug on his heart strings. He watched her closely as she ordered their first drinks for the night, talking animatedly to the bartender.

Dean had no clue why Y/N hadn’t left him behind already. Why she hadn’t cut ties with him, especially now that he had the Mark of Cain. But then again, she’d never left him behind before. And deep down, he hoped she never would.

“Alright, big boy, drink up!”, she yelled over the music and handed him a shot, her black nail polish sparkling in the strobe lights.

Dean scowled, trying to hide the fact that he was actually grateful for the alcohol that was going to enter his system. Alcohol meant ease. Ease was good. Now that he had the mark, he was incapable of relaxing. He was constantly on guard, constantly trying to control his temper, constantly thinking about violence.

They both knocked back their drink, wincing as the alcohol streamed down their throats with a comforting burn.

“And now…” Y/N smacked her lips together, tasting the remaining sheen of booze. “Step two.”

Dean lifted his eyebrows and looked down at her with fearful anticipation. “Step two?”

“Let’s go dance!”, she exclaimed, just loud enough to be heard despite the booming music.

“No, no, no,” Dean blurted, shaking his head. He could feel the walls around him come up even higher. “I’m not nearly drunk enough for that.”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. “Alright, then… Another round of shots, it is. I will make you feel better tonight, Dean. Even if it’s the last thing I do.”

"Come on! Give me at least one dance, Winchester,” Y/N mumbled, holding up one finger with a tipsy chuckle. She couldn’t tell anymore how many drinks they’d had. Not that it mattered.

"Alright, alright. One dance. Come 'ere." With two clumsy hands, he took her by the waist and pulled her close to his body. The ease had slowly but surely started to kick in after their last round of shots. "Damn, you're annoying today," he continued with a little amused smile on his face. He hadn’t smiled in so long that it made his cheeks feel strange.

Y/N laughed freely and snaked her arms around his neck, crossing them around the back. She leaned up to speak right into his ear. Between her and Dean, physical boundaries had never mattered much. "I'm just what you need."

Something about the tone in her voice sent a shiver down Dean's spine. He couldn't identify that shiver, and it bothered the hell out of him. People didn't always associate that quality with him, but Dean was very self-aware. Even drunk, he was aware of his thought patterns and physical reactions. But the shiver that Y/N made him feel… It was foreign to him. He hated foreign feelings, foreign sensations. He hated that the sensation felt so good. She was his friend, for God’s sake.

Y/N started to sway from side to side, using her arms to softly ease Dean into her rhythm.

He obliged and circled his arms around her middle, his hands landing on her lower back. Part of him felt stupid, swaying left and right in the middle of a crowd. He felt like a drunken fool. But he also felt good. For the first time in a long time. Which only made him more frustrated. He shouldn't get to feel good. Not now, not with the mark on his arm. Not after the things he'd done.

"You're overthinking," Y/N stated, looking Dean straight in the eye. Looking right through him, as usual.

And suddenly, it dawned on him. Why he'd been holing up in his room. Why he’d been hiding from his friend. He’d known that she was going to make him feel better. Make him feel hopeful. He didn’t deserve hope. He didn’t deserve her.

"It's kinda hard not to nowadays,” he blurted. He averted his eyes and focused on the rhythm of the music. Maybe going to the club hadn’t been such a terrible idea after all. There were lots of stimuli to focus on. To distract him. To get lost in.

“I know. But guess what?” Y/N lowered her head to catch Dean’s eye again. “You got this,” she reassured him with a nod of her head, “You’re one of the strongest people I know.”

Dean felt her fingers on the back of his neck, her fingertips gently grazing the exposed skin. On instinct, his hands went to her hips. He could feel their shape, feel Y/N’s fluid movements against his palms. She’d forced him to dance with her before, but it was different this time. Back then, their dances had been silly and dumb. This dance felt strangely… close. Sensual.

Just as Dean was about to reply, she added, “And one of the worst dancers.”

His eyes widened, an expression of feigned hurt popping up on his face. “Oh, shut up. You better get us another round of shots before I blow this joint.”

Y/N chuckled, the skin around her Y/E/C eyes wrinkling. She knew him well enough to know that the night club had awoken his interest by now. “Alright, one final round of shots before we find our hookups for the night?”

Dean nodded his head more eagerly than he intended.

The smile that Y/N responded with shone brighter than all the strobe lights combined.

“What about that one?”, she inquired, lazily nodding at a pretty brunette who was waiting to receive her drink at the bar. Y/N’s hips were moving from side to side, her back pressed against Dean’s solid chest. She ground herself against him, feeling his strong hands tighten around her hips. Yes, physical boundaries were nonexistent at this point.

“Nah.” Dean bent down over her shoulder, inching a little too close, to speak into her ear. “She’s here with a guy. I want it quick and easy tonight,” he mumbled as his scruffy cheek pressed against her smooth one. If anyone had told him that he was going to dance with Y/N in the middle of the dance floor of a night club, grinding against her body, he would never have believed it.

Y/N couldn’t deny the hot tingling sensation that rolled up and down her spine at Dean’s closeness, at the sound of his deep voice in her ear, at the smell of his cologne. “Who’s she with?”, she asked casually, feeling the hair at the back of her neck stand up.

Dean tightened his arms around her waist from behind and shifted on his feet, turning Y/N into the direction of a tall, dark-haired man. He held her closer than he needed to, but her body just felt like it was made for his greedy embrace. “With Pretty Boy over there.”

“Too bad,” Y/N sighed, laying her head back against Dean’s shoulder with a small pout. “He’s cute.”

“Please,” Dean scoffed. His hips automatically pushed forward as he felt Y/N’s ass move against his front. He could feel his pants get tight and suppressed the moan that threatened to leave his lips. “You can do better.”

She smiled to herself and twirled around in Dean’s embrace, feeling woozy as she did so. As she came face to face with him, she wrapped her arms around his neck again. Pulling him down, she erased what little distance remained between them. “Nice moves, Winchester. I guess you’re a dancer after all,” she teased.

His hands reclaimed their place on her hips, his fingers dancing on the threshold to her ass. What wouldn’t he give to test the waters and let them slide down further? The dip of her lower back was tempting him to try it out. To touch her curves. They were playing a game of cat and mouse, and it excited him. Only, he wasn’t sure who was the cat and who was the mouse in this scenario.

“Those aren’t my only moves, Sweetheart.” He could feel the alcohol pulsating through his veins, clouding his mind. Y/N was gorgeous. How had he never noticed that? His eyes lingered on her face, mesmerized by the sheer beauty he found there. Her eyes were shining blue, green, yellow, red, perfectly reflecting each of the club’s flashing lights.

She arched an eyebrow, her lips morphing into a sultry smile. “Oh, yeah? Sounds like one of the ladies here is gonna get very lucky tonight.”

Alright, Y/N was definitely the cat. Every bone in Dean’s body screamed at him not to be the mouse, but the way she looked at him – like she was going to jump him any second – it made his knees weak. Before he could so much as think of a flirty remark, Y/N caught sight of a handsome man on the dance floor.

“Hey, look at that guy.” Chewing on her lower lip, she didn’t realize how enchanted Dean was by her beauty, how his eyes didn’t leave her face. “I think he might be tonight’s choice,” she added.

With hooded eyes, Dean tore his gaze away from Y/N and looked to the side. He had to admit the other guy was her type. Damn it, had he read her signs wrong? “Yeah… Why not?”, he replied, his voice sounding even and calm. But on the inside, he wasn’t feeling calm at all. He certainly didn’t want to feel that way, but there was a heavy stone sinking from his chest down to his stomach. In some strange way, despite his hate for clubs and dancing, he wanted to stay with Y/N. He wanted for Y/N to stay with him.

She dragged her bottom lip out between her teeth, missing the way Dean’s eyes lingered on her mouth. “I’m gonna go over there,” she declared and let go of his neck. She ruffled her Y/H/C hair, pushing it up with her hands. “How do I look?”

Begrudgingly, Dean let go of her, leaving his hands to hang awkwardly by his sides as Y/N cut the invisible tie between them. He cleared his throat and touched his Adam’s apple with his fingers. “You look good.”

“What about you?” Y/N smiled up at him, almost taking his breath away. “Who’re you gonna chat up?”

“Oh, I, uh…” He scratched the back of his head with his blunt fingernails. The mark on his arm started to pulsate, which he ignored to the best of his ability. Not now, he mentally scolded the mark. “I’ve had my eye on that blonde over there.” Weakly, he pointed at a beautiful blonde woman who was dancing with a friend.

“Good choice.” Y/N tilted her head and pursed her lips in approval. “You need any help?”

“Nah. Not tonight. I’m good.”

“Alright. Good luck.” Y/N found his hand and squeezed it, just as she always did before they parted ways. It was her own special way of saying ‘See you later.’

Slowly, her fingers slipped through his, their touch getting lost in their intentions to find someone else.

A million thoughts shot through Dean’s head as he watched her push through the crowd. On her way to another guy. When Y/N suddenly looked over her shoulder, meeting Dean’s eyes once more, he knew. He could tell by the way the Mark of Cain was itching and burning at the same time. It was yearning for her.

Dean wanted her.

Y/N’s back slid up and down the wall of the bathroom, over and over again. The man’s hands harshly gripped the flesh of her thighs, keeping them wrapped around his waist. Her dress was bunched up around her hips. His jeans were pushed down his legs as his length pounded into her.

She moved her hips to meet his thrusts and threw her head back. His lips instantly attached themselves to her neck, placing open-mouthed kisses to her skin. When he sucked on her favorite spot, she felt herself fall apart around him. Her body quivered nonstop while she came.

As she panted with pleasure, her hands curled around his shirt – the very same shirt that was supposed to help him sleep with someone else. But here she was, having sex with her best friend in a dirty public bathroom.

In his drunken state, Dean had gone after Y/N. He’d pushed through the crowd, crossing the dance floor until he’d caught up with her. His fingers had curled around her wrist. His hand had turned her around. His lips had landed on hers, effectively keeping her from hooking up with that other guy. Everything had happened so fast. And now, here they were, screwing each other’s brains out.

Y/N moaned, Dean’s name sitting on the tip of her tongue, ready to slip out. But she bit her lip, willing her mouth not to say his name. There was something so wrong, so naughty, about this. The forbidden fruit. The line that should never be crossed between friends. It was glorious.

Meanwhile, Dean grunted into Y/N’s ear, forcing himself not to groan her name. The way her pussy clenched around him felt incredible. Too good to be true. It was so wrong to have sex with his best friend, his wingwoman, in the club’s bathroom. And still, he never wanted it to end. He wanted to remain buried inside of her until the end of time. His mark vibrated in perfect sync with his thrusts, the pain mingling with the pleasure. Something primitive and carnal took over his soul, making him push into Y/N even harder.

She gripped his shoulders tightly, her tipsy mind admiring his strength, his power. His lips and tongue felt so good against her neck. The swollen tip of his dick was buried so deep inside of her that she knew he was going to ruin her for any other man.

Dean was sweating, grunting, grinding. He poured everything he had into his thrusts, hoping for the ache in his forearm to be replaced by the soreness in his muscles. He gave Y/N all he had. If he did something so wrong, he might as well do it right.

As he felt his orgasm approaching, his head started to spin. The pain intensified across his forearm – and turned into the same pain that he felt whenever he killed something. Or someone.

It was a satisfying ache. Until it wasn’t.

As he emptied himself into the condom, Dean felt like the skin was being carved from his forearm. The mark was burning so bad that he squeezed his eyes shut and released a pained, dragged-out groan. He sounded like an animal, a monster, like a demon that was being exorcised.

Dean could hear a faint, sweet sound passing his eardrums. It took him a second to realize that the sound was Y/N’s concerned voice. When he lifted his head to meet her gaze, he was met with wide, Y/E/C orbs. He wanted nothing more than to get lost in their beautiful color, to feel like everything was going to be alright.

“Dean… Dean, what’s wrong?”, she repeated in between harsh breaths, her legs still locked around his waist. Her hands cupped his stubbled jaw as she tried to get a good look at his face.

He suddenly realized he was still pinning her to the wall, still sheathed inside her. He pushed air from his lungs, clearing his throat with a small noise. He pulled out of her and slowly let her down. As soon as Y/N’s feet hit the ground, he turned away from her, wiping his hands down his face. He leaned against the bathroom sink and pulled off the condom, his back facing her.

Y/N could see that he was struggling and felt herself sober up a little. She wanted nothing more than to wrap him up in a hug, to take away his suffering. But she had no idea whether he wanted her near him. He was like a wounded animal sometimes. He tended to lash out when he was in pain.

Dean gasped as he tossed the used condom into the trashcan next to the sink. His arm hurt like hell. He was feeling dizzy. With pain and shame thrumming through his bones, he pulled up his boxers and pants.

Y/N couldn’t rip her worried gaze away from him. She pushed her dress down to cover her legs and slowly approached Dean, her steps timid. He tensed visibly when her hand finally came into contact with his upper arm. “Dean, hey… What is it?”, she inquired quietly, fully prepared to be pushed away.

“The mark…,” he grunted, feeling the engorged skin pulsate violently as he stared down at it. He didn’t dare to look up. He couldn’t face Y/N.

“Let me see.” Her voice was soft and gentle as she reached out to touch the angry red mark. “Please.”

Dean bared his teeth, wincing when her fingertips brushed against the mark. But, against his expectations, the pain didn’t intensify.

Y/N’s fingers were cold. Her tender touch cooled down the burn. Dean’s eyelids became heavy with relief, prompting him to briefly shut his eyes. Within a matter of seconds, he went from a state of pure distress to a state of comfort.

“It’s okay,” Y/N whispered and started to run her thumb along the Mark of Cain, caressing it like it was something to be cherished. Something that wasn’t evil.

“Is it?” Dean opened his emerald eyes, a pained expression masking his face. He wasn’t looking for an honest answer. He wasn’t looking for a straight response. No, he was looking for reassurance. He knew Y/N would get that. She always knew what he needed.

“Yes. It is.” Honestly, she didn’t know what either of them were referring to. Was having the Mark of Cain okay? Were the two of them okay? She had no clue what they were talking about. All she knew was that, no matter what, she was going to remain by Dean’s side. “Now breathe with me.” Y/N inhaled deeply, raising her eyebrows in a silent demand for him to follow her lead.

He rolled his eyes, but held back his comment about shoving her self-help yoga crap, and complied. He breathed in deeply and slowly, just like her. And when Y/N released her breath, so did he. The pain in his arm was turning from sharp to dull, from threatening to bearable.

“Better?” Reluctantly, Y/N let go of his arm, letting her touch fade from his mark.

“Yeah,” Dean answered, mentally cursing himself for how fragile he sounded. He coughed in an awkward attempt to save face.

Y/N quickly realized that his moment of open vulnerability was over. She knew Dean well enough not to push it. She knew it was time to change the topic. With her cheeks still flushed from the sex they’d just had, she brushed some disheveled hair behind her ear. “We should do that again sometime,” she said in a lighthearted manner, thankful that she was still intoxicated enough to be bold. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and smiled as she waited for his response.

Dean eyed her with curiosity, even a little bit of awe. She was incredible. And hot, goddamn. When their eyes met, Y/N smiled the most stunning smile he’d ever seen. All of a sudden, their little incident didn’t seem so wrong anymore. The mark was quiet now.

Dean, too, bit his lower lip, contemplating his reply. Sleeping with his best friend was a risky game. A stupid idea. Destined to fail. Finally, he settled on a gruff, “You sure?”

She nodded her head. “Yeah, I mean… That was good, right?” As casually as she could, Y/N shrugged her shoulders, trying not to show the anxiety that was starting to overthrow her boldness. “Next time we need a relief, why not help each other?”

Once again, Dean felt a shiver run down his spine. His mind was yelling at him not to agree. But his emotions urged him to take his chance. “Yeah, why not?”

“Great.” Y/N’s heart fluttered in her chest. “It’s a deal.”

“It’s a deal,” he echoed, tilting his mouth up in a half-smile.

With a wink in Dean’s direction, Y/N exited the public bathroom first. Leaving him to stare after her with wonder.

Despite that night, nothing more happened between the two of them in the following weeks. Neither of them brought up the sex, the Mark of Cain, or their agreement.

Dean wanted to bring it up so bad, though. Well, actually, he wanted to go to Y/N’s room down the hall and do all kinds of naughty things to her. As he sat on his bed, he thought about how much he wanted to explore every inch of her body. His mark needed to be fed. And he had a feeling that wrecking Y/N was going to feed it just as well as killing something.

With a sigh, he tossed his closed laptop to the side, watching it bounce across the memory foam. He frowned and looked down at the shirt he was wearing – the Hookup Henley.

Thanks to their night out together, Y/N was all Dean could think about whenever he was wearing it. Her scent had long since faded from his Henley, but he could still feel her fingers tug on the fabric if he imagined it hard enough. He could still hear her moan for him. He still recalled how loved she’d made him feel.

Dean looked up from his shirt when there was a knock on his door. Wearing a frown on his face, he got up from his bed and walked across his room on sock-clad feet.

When he opened the door, he was surprised to find Y/N standing on the other side, all dressed up. Her hair was done in loose curls. Her little black dress fit her body like a glove. Her eyes beamed up at him through long lashes. She was stunning. Dean raised his eyebrows at her. “You goin’ out?”

Y/N observed his face, almost getting lost in his large, beautiful eyes. “I was going to, but…,” she trailed off as she spotted the green Henley that clung tightly to his chest. Damn, she wanted to curl her fingers around the fabric all over again. She could even see his defined pecs through the shirt.

“You want me to go with you?”, Dean asked, pointing his finger down the hall. Sometimes, Y/N asked him to accompany her because she felt safer that way. This time, she wasn’t gonna have to beg him to go out. He would do anything to be close to her again. Even if that meant dancing among a crowd of strangers.

Y/N was sick and tired of not bringing up the fact that they’d had sex a few weeks ago. She craved Dean. She felt like she was going to explode if she stayed away from him. Even though they’d hooked up in a disgusting public bathroom, it was the most intense, intimate experience she’d ever had. “No… Actually… I don’t think I wanna go out anymore.”

“You wanna stay here? We could go downstairs and do some target practice...” Dean rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling like a teenager who was asking for his very first date.

“No. No target practice.” Y/N took a step closer to him. Her hands came up to grab the collar of his Henley. It was now or never. She felt anxious, giddy. The way Dean eyed her – with curiosity, and wonder – made her feel alive.

“What do you want?”, Dean muttered lowly, his hot beath fanning across Y/N’s face. His heart was about ready to jump out of his chest. She was so close to him. His for the taking.

Y/N briefly looked away and kicked the door shut behind her. When she faced him again, there was a primal glimmer in her eyes.

The next few seconds felt like a lifetime to Dean. He knew she deserved better than him. He still had the Mark of Cain. He was dangerous. But if Y/N actually wanted him, he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist. He was going to give her everything he had.

“You.”

One single word and Dean was a goner. One single word made his whole miserable world come crashing down around him. Just a second later, his lips collided with hers in a fit of desperate desire. His self-control didn’t stand much of a chance.

Y/N’s hands went to his jaw, compelling Dean to kiss her even harder. His hands went to her ass and squeezed tightly, making her hum against his lips. Their tongues showed no mercy for each other. Dean wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and fisted part of her hair, pushing her as close to him as humanly possible.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Dean’s conscience mumbled in between heated kisses. His own voice sounded so far away, almost as if he wasn’t present in his own clouded mind.

“Shhh.” Y/N placed her finger against his kiss-swollen lips and gave Dean a smile. “Just shut up and take me to bed.” Then she pressed her mouth back to his for emphasis.

Dean’s heart took a leap. Grabbing the backs of her thighs, he lifted her up into his arms, swallowing her excited squeal with his mouth. He was overwhelmed by the sensations that flooded his whole body.

Still, the most prominent feeling was the ache in his forearm. The ache that haunted him whenever he did something wrong. But he couldn’t contain himself. He needed Y/N. God, he needed her so bad that he was willing to jeopardize their friendship – one of the best things he’d ever had.

As he pushed her down on his mattress, the urge to make her scream for him became almost unbearable. He felt like he was going to corrupt her. But as he thrust into her, he felt whole, sated. The mark thanked him for giving in.

Y/N was either going to be his savior or his downfall. And either way, he was going to take his chance.

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thegettingbyp2 · 2 years ago

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Hiya if you are still taking them, may I please request a dean winchester x reader? May I request a sorta of alternative ending to Dark Dynasty where the reader is with Charlie and manages to save and get Charlie out because she has the information that can save Dean from the Mark of Cain and instead she gets captured by the Stiens and Dean goes on the warpath to save her. Please and thank you!

I Have to Find Her

‘Dean? Is that you?’ you said into the phone, still trying to catch your breath as you were trying to prop Charlie’s body against your own, the redhead slipping in and out of consciousness against you.

‘(Y/N)? Where are you, are you both okay? We’re on our way,’ Dean replied, sounding tense, knowing that there was something wrong simply by the fact you were panting down the phone, indicating that you’d had to get out of the motel room fast.

‘I’m okay, but Charlie, she’s injured. Dean, it’s bad and I don’t know what to do,’ you said desperately. ‘They ambushed the room, the Stynes, they were looking for the translation Charlie was working on for the Book of the Damned. They shot her.’

‘What? Is she okay?’

‘At the moment but I don’t think she’s going to be okay for long, she’s fading fast. They didn’t get the book, Charlie sent it to Sam’s email and then destroyed her laptop.’ In the background, you could hear the keys of Sam’s laptop clicking away and Sam’s sound of approval when he saw that he now had the files.

‘Okay, we’re going to be there soon, (Y/N), tell Charlie to hold on,’ Dean said, ‘I love you,’ he said before hanging up.

‘I love you too,’ you said down the now empty phone line before hanging the phone back up and turning all of your attention back to Charlie. ‘Hey come on,’ you said urgently, lightly tapping her face to get her to come back, ‘I need you to stay with me.’

‘You have no clue how long I’ve waited to hear that,’ Charlie said drowsily, making you laugh when you heard that she was still able to make her cheeky comments.

‘Yeah? Well, you stick around for me until we can get you patched up at the bunker and I’ll kiss you,’ you said, laughing through your tears.

‘I’m going to hold you to that,’ Charlie replied, before her eyes fluttered shut. You kept one hand pressed against her neck so you could feel her pulse, knowing that you only needed to panic if you stopped feeling it. You sat in silence on a cold bench, waiting for your boyfriend to show up in his beloved car and take you home, the thought of crawling into bed with him the last thought that was in your mind before everything went black.

---

Dean was out of the car as soon as he stepped on the brakes when he saw Charlie laying still on the floor and you nowhere in sight. He crouched down to lift Charlie off of the cold floor and let out a sign of relief when she stirred in his arms, opening her eyes to look at Dean. ‘They took her,’ she said weakly, trying to hold on so she could tell Dean what had happened to you.

‘(Y/N), who took her?’ he asked, panic lacing his voice at the thought of having no idea where you were.

‘The Stynes. Dean, I’m sorry, I couldn’t do anything,’ she said, her voice trailing off as she lost consciousness again.

‘Hey, it’s not your fault,’ Dean hushed her, knowing that she couldn’t hear him at the moment, ‘you did it Charlie, you didn’t let them get the book.’ He called Sam over and carefully moved Charlie into his arms. ‘Take her to the nearest hospital and then back to the bunker. I’m going to go and find (Y/N).’

‘Dean, you can’t just go, you have no idea where she is,’ Sam protested.

‘Sammy, I’m not going to waste a second while (Y/N)’s with that family, who knows what they’re doing to her,’ Dean exclaimed, sounding more distressed with every word. ‘I’ll call Cas and we’ll find her, you know, he can do those tracking things and he knows (Y/N) so we’ll find her quickly. She needs me Sam and I’m not going to let anything get in the way of me finding her.’

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #supernatural

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hellhound-whisperer · 2 years ago

Text

A Mark All Your Own: Sharp Teeth

Pairing | Dean Winchester x female!reader

Warnings | Mark of Cain, angst, smut

Word count | 1,833

Prompt | Episode “Sharp Teeth”

A/N | I like writing from Dean’s POV, so I thought I might alternate that in this “series” every now and then. And since I couldn’t come up with a way to work the reader into this canonically, here we are.

“Dean!” I dropped the spatula on the counter carelessly, jogging towards the war room. She didn’t sound in trouble, but then again, it never mattered what I was doing; she calls, I come running.

I turned the corner, seeing her in front of her laptop. I walked up behind her, resting my hands on her shoulders, kissing the top of her head. “Yeah?”

She pointed at the article on the screen, and I leaned forward to read it. I turned to her, seeing the same shocked expression on her face I knew was on mine. “You think it’s Garth?”

She nodded, “Yeah, I think it might be. Should we go?”

I pulled out the chair next to hers, and picked up her small hands in mine. “Y/N/N, I think it’s better if you stay here, do some more searching for Abaddon.” She jerked her hands out of mine, folding her arms in front of herself. I knew she wasn’t going to take that well.

“Seriously? Dean, I’m fine.” I sighed, loudly, and ran my hand down my face.

“I know you’re fine, but sweetheart…”

“Don’t sweetheart me,” she snapped, and rolling my eyes without thinking didn’t seem to help, based on the scowl that followed.

“Y/N, this isn’t about you being fine, alright? We don't know jack about the Mark, or what Cain was warning you about, and after Kevin, I just…” I trailed off, trying to find words that wouldn’t offend her skills as a hunter.

“You want me to be safe,” she finished for me, her voice quiet. “I get it, Dean, I do, but I can’t just sit around here until we gank the bitch.”

“I know, I know. But this isn’t a hunt, it’s trying to find out what the hell happened to Garth. I’ll be back in a day. Can you please just do this for me?” I tried to copy Sam’s signature puppy-dog eyes, and she bit her lip trying not to laugh in my face.

“Fine,” her eyes rolled. “I will keep searching here, but you call me. A lot. And if you need help…”

“I will ask. Thank you, sweetheart,” I said honestly, more than a little relieved. I was worried about Sammy out there already, Kevin’s death was still a knife stuck in my chest, and I just needed to know she was somewhere safe, protected. I couldn’t lose her too.

She was looking at me strangely, so I leaned forward to kiss her before she could open that beautiful mouth and I’d have to lie, tell her I was fine.

Two days later…

I missed Y/N somethin’ bad, but for the first time, I wasn’t looking forward to her waiting at home for me. I’d only actually spoken with her twice, the last telling her we were wrapping up and I was heading back. As usual, it didn’t work out that way. I texted her that much, but ignored the call that followed. I wasn’t going to beg her to stay put in front of Sammy, and invite more questions about her, the Mark, and the next step.

It all went downhill from there. I tried to call after we cleaned up the wolf problem, but that time, she didn’t answer, so I texted to let her know we were fine, going to grab a couple hours and then I’d be back. Nothing. I tried to call before we left to meet Garth, but all I got back was a single text. Glad you’re alive. My Y/N had a temper that matched mine, but I couldn’t think of another time she was this pissed.

We walked into the war room to find her with her boots propped up on the table, swinging around a butterfly knife.

“Welcome home, Sam,” she said coolly, her eyes not leaving the blade she was twirling in the air.

“Yeah, um, hey,” he stuttered back, taken aback by her attitude. “I’m gonna go, we’ll catch up in the morning?” She gifted him with a tight smile and a nod, and Sam bolted down the hall towards his room.

Lucky bastard.

“Things good with Garth?” she asked, still not looking at me. I knew she was mad, but this was a whole new level, considering this wasn’t the first time she was benched on a hunt for one reason or another. I stepped toward her with the same caution I’d give pretty much anything we hunt.

“Uh huh…you wanna put the knife down for me, sweetheart? Makin’ me a little nervous,” I asked, trying to break the tension. I moved to drop my duffle on the table, freezing when she slammed her knife tip into the tabletop. “So, you’re mad.”

She finally looked at me, planting her feet on the ground in front of her, and leaned forward. “Mad? No, no, Dean, I’m not mad. I was terrified,” she shot back. “You told me you were coming home, everything was fine, and then I get a text that says,” she pulled out her phone dramatically, “‘Shit, guess we’re not done yet.’ Being your loving girlfriend, I call you to find out what’s up, and you ignored me. I’m a hunter, I get it, fine, he’ll call me right back.”

I ran my hand down my face as she leaned back, throwing her hands up. “And you did, sure. Five hours later. You know what I did in those five hours, Dean?” She looked at me expectantly, and I just sighed. “I got angrier and angrier at myself for letting you go without me, until I got my shit together and left. I was about an hour outside of Lebanon when you called.” She was still seething as she fell silent, glaring at me. I leaned on the war table, facing her, guessing at what the least moronic thing I could say would be.

I failed miserably. “Being terrified for someone isn’t so fun, is it?”

She shot up and marched right in front of me, arms crossed, yelling now. “Oh, is this some sort of payback? I took the Mark and scared you, so you let me think you were torn to shreds by a pack of wolves?!”

“Of course not,” I said, pushing down my own anger, doing my damnedest not to make this even worse. “I’m sorry I said that. And that I made you worry. I got wrapped up in the job, it moved pretty quickly after I texted you.”

Her jaw clenched, and I could see her hands tightening into fists against her sides. I gripped the table a little harder, stood up a little straighter, but kept our eyes locked. She was searching mine, looking for something, but I had no idea for what. So she completely took me by surprise when her hands shot out, grabbed my face, and pulled my lips to meet hers. She took complete control, kissing me like she thought it would be our last, and my cock twitched as my blood started flowing south.

I wrapped my hands in her hair, pulling her back just an inch to catch my breath, and I gazed at her, wondering how we got from furious to frisky so quickly. But she didn’t give me any time to think much beyond that, jumping up to wrap her legs around my waist, smashing her lips back to mine. A small part of me thought I should stop this, hash it out and get past it.

She must’ve sensed my hesitation, whispering against my lips, “Just shut up and fuck me.” My upstairs brain took a backseat, and I kissed her back, hard. I spun around, setting her fine ass on the war room table. She grabbed at my flannel, ripping it open and sent buttons scattering on the floor. The sound of the buttons hitting the marble flipped a switch in my mind, reminding me that we weren’t alone in the bunker. I wasn’t about to catch shit from Sammy for this on top of everything else, so I picked her back up, hands bracing her ass and walked to our bedroom, her nibbling at my neck and shoulder the entire way.

I kicked the door shut behind me, and braced her against the wall so I could unbutton her jeans and then my own. My fingers stroked her already soaked pussy, and a groan escaped my throat. I pushed her panties aside, dipping a finger inside her.

“Anytime now, Dean,” Y/N teased. Damn, the girl knew how to get me going. Her soft hand had already freed my hard cock, taking control to rub the head against her wetness. If rough is what she wanted, it was sure as hell what she was going to get.

I pushed her hand aside, lined myself up to her entrance, and thrust upward.

“Yes, like that,” she gasped. I took her lead, pounding into her over and over again, chasing her release. Her body started to shake, so I knew she was close. Circling her clit with my thumb, her trembling grew. I knew I couldn’t last much longer either.

“That’s my good girl, come for me, Y/N/N,” I panted, knowing it would be her undoing. Her pussy gripped me tight, and that was my cue to let go. I could feel every inch of her as I came, my hand slamming against the wall beside her. We were both breathing hard, and I swear I could hear her heart beating wildly. I stared at her in awe as we came down from our highs, trying to gauge if I’d managed to fuck the rage right out of her. She rested her forehead against mine, kissing me once before untangling her legs. I helped her stand, not fully letting go when she wasn’t steady yet.

Y/N placed her palm to my chest, pushing me back. I squinted at her, a little surprised she seemed to have recovered already. I might not be a young man anymore, but I knew her like the back of my hand, and she didn’t usually bounce back this quickly either.

I stared as she walked around me, undressing as she walked to bed and pulled the covers back. She slipped her gorgeously naked body between the sheets and asked, “You coming?”

I shook the shock from my mind, chalking it up to makeup sex, and followed suit. She settled into my side, resting her cheek on my bare chest. I threaded my hand in her hair, and pulled her closer.

“I’m sorry I worried you, Y/N.”

“I know,” she replied. “And?”

“And I won’t sideline you again, I promise.”

“Damn right.”

#dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader smut #a mark all your own #dean winchester series

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sortasirius · 4 years ago

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Dean Winchester be like:

I hate myself because it’s what my father taught me to do. I hate myself because it’s a defense mechanism. I use sarcasm to cover up the fact that I believe I am worthless. I raised my brother into a good man, that’s the only good I’ve ever done. I’ve saved some people, they don’t say thank you, but that’s okay. I wish I could have been the man my father wanted me to be. I break everything I touch. All the people I love I end up killing or leaving me. I am broken. I don’t do romantic love, it’s asking for me to get my heart broken, more broken than it already is. I sold my soul to a demon so I could save my brother, because he’s the best thing I ever did, the only good thing. I’m afraid to go to Hell, but I pretend I’m not, because what’s the alternative?

Hell proved that I was the person I always knew I was, a bad person, willing to torture to get out of pain. I met an angel, he’s not like I thought. He’s a soldier, like me, he’s taking orders from a father he can’t see. He starts out as an ally, but he’s different than the others, they say he likes me. He’s awkward, he stands too close to me sometimes. I started the Apocalypse because I wasn’t strong enough. My brother is going down the wrong path, and I don’t know how to stop it. The angels tell me Lucifer has to rise, but the one that pulled me out of Hell disobeys to help me stop it. I think I should consider him a friend. Lucifer rises anyway.

The angel is on the run from Heaven, he’s a good guy, I like him a lot, more than I think I should. I don’t know what to do, if I say yes to Michael, we can save some people. Maybe I’ll get to know peace, maybe my father will be proud of me then. The angel and my brother are angry at me, but I’ve always been a coward, they just don’t know it. But they know me best, I can’t say yes to Michael if it means disappointing them.

My brother goes to the cage with Lucifer and Michael, the angel disappears, and I’m left to pick up the pieces, living a life I feel like I stole from somebody else. I always sleep with a gun and holy water under the bed, even though I know every entrance is secure. My brother comes back, but he’s different now, he’s not the same, I should have looked for him. I feel guilty. We found out his soul is gone, his soul, his soul. The angel is back, but he’s no real help. I kill myself to speak to Death, who brings back his soul in exchange for me playing Death, where I learn a few hard lessons.

I find out the angel has been working with our enemies. Why does it feel like my heart is broken when he won’t meet my eyes? I leave him to the demons, but not before one last look. I’m not sure why. The idiot, he ends up dying trying to get souls from Purgatory, desperate to win his war in Heaven. Why does everyone leave me? The Leviathan are out there, a new threat. At least I know how to kill, so I won’t have to think about the muddy trenchcoat in the trunk of my car. I lose the closest thing I have to a father with a bullet to the brain. I feel like I’m spinning out of control. My brother loses his mind. The angel comes back, he doesn’t recognize me, that hurts. When he does remember me, I tell him we need him, but I really mean that I do.

I get sent to Purgatory, I meet a vampire turned ally turned new best friend, but I won’t leave without the angel, I can’t leave without the angel. We find him, he was running from me, why does everyone run from me? We make it out of Purgatory, the angel gets left behind. It turns out my brother didn’t look for me. Why am I so dispensable? The vampire is the only one I can trust now. I dream about the angel, about the way I couldn’t save him. I feel like I can’t save anyone these days. I see the angel in the air around me, am I going crazy? But then he shows up behind me, why do I care so much about him? I don’t even care where he came from, as long as he’s here. My brother takes on trials, they start to hurt him. We find a place to call home. I’ve never had my own bedroom before. The angel is distant, I wish I could reach him. He doesn’t answer my prayers. He and I find the angel tablet, he hits me. I tell him I need him, never able to tell him that I think I might love him too. He snaps out of it then walks out of my life again. I wish I was lovable. I almost lose my brother to the trials, he has to know I can’t lose him, he’s all I’ve got. The angels fall, I wonder about my angel, if he’s alright.

My brother is dying, and I make a deal with an angel to save him. My angel says he’s a good guy, and I’m too desperate to vet him properly. I watch my angel, now a human, die in front of me, the angel in my brother saves him, it’s one of the only times I’ve ever put someone else over my brother. I feel guilty about that. I have to kick my angel out, it tears me in half to do it, but I have to protect my brother. I watch the angel from a gas station window, I try to find the courage to go see him. I use humor to hide how much I miss him. My brother finds out about the angel, which cost the life of a kid I was supposed to protect, he’s so angry at me. Well, I deserve it this time. I take the Mark of Cain to defeat Abaddon, it can’t be all that bad. I start to lose my grip on myself. My angel gives up an army for me, and it’s the closest I feel to being me in months. My brother and my angel try to stop it, but it’s too late. I die in my brother’s arms.

I wake up with black eyes. I don’t care about anyone, anything. There’s a tiny part of me that’s screaming to wake up, but I drown him out easily enough. My brother finds me, says he wants to cure me. I don’t want it, I don’t want to be me, not feeling is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. They do cure me though, my brother and my angel, and waking up from the blackness is like surfacing from deep water. For a while, I feel loved. But after what I did, I don’t feel like I deserve it. I’m still not me, and when my friend, who I loved like a sister is taken, I go off the deep end again. It’s too easy, but violence is all I know. The angel tries to stop me. I have him where I want him, a blade to the heart and this is all over. But I still can’t kill him, I still can’t kill the angel. Death tells me I have to kill my brother. I almost do it. But killing Death releases me, and I’m me again. Sometimes I still wish I wasn’t.

I have this connection to this Darkness. It scares the hell out of me. I wish I understood it, I wish I could stop it. Am I pulled towards the Darkness because I, myself, am darkness? Is it because I am, because I’ve always been bad? I lose the angel to Lucifer himself, how did I not notice until it was too late? Why would he leave me like this? Will I ever get him back? My head is foggy around the Darkness, but not when it comes to him. I just wish I could get through to him. Lucifer taunts me, my heart rips in half. We get the angel back, but nothing good can last in this life, can it? God himself returns, I have to sacrifice myself to stop the Darkness. I’ll do it, because of course I will, if I have an opportunity to do some good, I’ll take it. The Darkness doesn’t kill me. She thanks me.

My mother is alive. It’s everything I’ve always wanted. I have to learn fast that she’s not what I thought. That’s hard. Me and my brother end up in prison for trying to kill Lucifer, and we find out this girl is going to have his kid. How will we kill someone innocent? I can’t think about that, I’m a killer, I’ll kill if i have to. The angel kills a reaper to save me, but what will happen to him? We start looking for this kid, but do we even want to find it? The angel nearly dies for me, he tells me, my family he loves us. I wish I could tell him the same, but the words won’t work right in my brain, so I do what I always do, I look away. The angel finds the girl, but the kid inside her gets to him, and he runs away from me. Why does everyone run from me? We find them just in time to find a rift to another world, and my brother has to drag me away from the angel, who is going to sacrifice himself to kill Lucifer. He comes back, but before I can say the words I’ve been holding onto for so long, he dies in front of me, only this time, it’s real. My mom is taken from me too, and I’m left by the angel’s side, staring up at the sky, wondering why, why me?

I bury the angel, my brother insists we can’t kill the kid, even though it’s his fault my mom is gone and the angel is... I beg God to bring him back, please, bring him back. You owe me this, please bring him back. He doesn’t listen. I’m alone. We burn the angel, and I try to learn to live with regret and grief and crippling pain all at once. I hate the kid, this is his fault. I kill myself again to save some souls, but also because I want to die this time. I can’t take it anymore. Death tells me I have work to do, but how much more work can there be? How much more can I take? It’s like the Universe reads my mind, because my angel comes back, and it’s like the last few weeks haven’t happened. I still can’t say the words, but maybe this time I’ll get there. Maybe this time. We go to the other world, we save some people, I find my mom. I let another Michael from the other world possess me to defeat Lucifer, but then I can’t expel him. Before he shuts me in my memories, I am desperately afraid.

My brother and the angel find me in my own head, the snap me out of it. I should have known this bar was too good for me, I knew I didn’t deserve it. I shut Michael in there, but I know I won’t last long. I think I’m too weak to hold him, so I build a box designed to hold me forever. I dream about it, claw the sides of the wall until my nails are bloody, but if it’s my eternity or Michael’s rule? I’ll take the ocean every time. The angel will always try to save me, I still can’t say the words. The kid, my kid, he destroys Michael, but something is wrong, and I don;t realize until it’s too late. My mother is dead, at the hands of the kid, and I have never been angrier. I hate the kid again, I hate the angel too, I hate myself more. I pull a gun on the kid, but I still can’t pull the trigger. Sometimes I wish I could put it to my own head. God comes back, turns out he was the villain all along. Typical. He kills our kid. I can’t let myself feel.

The angel tries to convince me that we’re real. How can I believe that? Is everything I am just a story? Have I ever chosen anything? Does the angel really care about me? Do I really care about him? Another one of our friends dies. I blame the angel, I push him away, because I can’t look at him if I think what I feel for him might not be real. I meet up with someone I loved. He’s a monster now, I have to kill him. He dies holding me. I wish I was dead sometimes too. My brother is sick, he gets kidnapped by God. I’m spinning in circles. Me and the angel end up in Purgatory again. He gets taken from me. I’m so alone, so scared, I break down in the one place I could get lost in forever searching for the angel, I don’t want to leave him, please, don’t make me leave him. I have to keep looking, get back to the real world to save my brother. How will I choose? Thank god, or, whatever, I find the angel. I’ll tell him this time, but he stops me. He must know. He doesn’t want me, no one wants me. Why would they? Chuck has taken everything from me. I have to kill him, no matter the cost. The cost is gonna be our kid, raised from the dead by Death. I guess the one thing we have going for us is we don’t stay dead for long. I’m ready to let my kid die for my freedom. My brother stands in the way, I pull a gun on him. He talks me down, he’s the only one that can. I decide to take it out on Death, my pain, my anger, my rage. I take the angel and we find her, she chases us. Another trap. I realize that I’ve trapped us both. Why am I so worthless?

The angel looks at me. He smiles. He tells me how worthy I am, that I’m good, that I changed him. How can I tell him how he changed me. He tells me he’ll die for loving me. Then he shouldn’t, I’m not worth his life. Don’t leave me, please, I can’t lose you, you don’t know what it does it me when you leave me. He tells me he loves me. I try to tell him a fraction of the things I feel for him, but it’s too late. He’s taken before my eyes, and this time I know there’s no getting him back.

I’m left on the floor, unable to move.

This time I know, I’ll never let myself love again, because my heart is so shattered that it’s powdered, there’s no repairing it now. I’ve always been broken, but this time I’m not just broken: I’m destroyed.

#so uh yeah idk what this is #dean #spn #my writing #supernatural #dean winchester #destiel #im so sorry????? idk where this came from #I have never loved anyone the way I love him

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sodomitecastiel · 4 years ago

Note

Do you have any recommended spn fics? To be restored is consuming all of my non fenario brainspace

This is in no way an exhaustive list - @jewishcharliebradbury is the one to go for that - but these are some favorites of mine, please always heed their tags just in case!

Putting it under a readmore because I'm a wordy bastard:

Sky Verse by starandrea: Angelic civil war! The crispest, most in-character dialogue! Vast, sprawling worldbuilding! Dean and Cas get together and are very bad at it for a long time! This series obsesses me the way other people are obsessed with dta (which I have not read for fear of commitment but fully intend to eventually).

To Be Restored by serenetyfails: You mentioned this one already but it's worth repeating - it's my favorite trans spn fic that I didn't write myself. Cas's transmasc identity is handled so carefully and so competently, Dean flips out in a way that's both in character and still kind to him, and Sam and Rowena are wonderfully fleshed out. I think many people would look at the premise and worry it's either misogynistic or fetishy, but it's neither, it's such a love letter to Cas's well-earned masculinity. Also, I'm obsessed with Rowena knowing and being buddies with a lot of trans women witches :)

Talk Therapy by shara: This is one of my favorite 'Dean is bad at asking for things' fics, it deals with his inability to want things past what he can give to others really well. I also appreciate that not everything in their relationship is fixed just because they're together, although the amount they love each other is always obvious.

Epilogue by JayneL: A weird little time travel story that is NOT a fixit for endverse, but is exceptionally kind to endverse Cas anyway. It aches very badly. I remember it being pretty trippy but also having to sit and look at the ceiling a while after reading it.

The Love Story of the Runner Up by Margo_Kim: Cas dates a normal human man with a good soul for a little while before he gets with Dean. Both of them know it isn't for forever, but they look after each other anyway. Told through the lens of story-swapping between gay friends and written with so much care & love. (You can thank @okologie for finding this one and making me read it despite my reservations.)

where the weeds take root by deathbanjo: Everyone recommends this fic but it's for a reason. Probably the best post-retirement fic there is, and definitely helped me form the neural connections to write Fenario, haha, I can't recommend this one enough. The complicated Dean and Sam issues are held with just as much weight as the Dean and Cas ones, although both are handled gently.

you and me in the war of the end times by stickthelanding (@tallahasseemp3): Alma knocked it out of the park with this one. THEE shotgunning fic. I've reread it more times than I can count, it has the loveliest atmosphere. I want to gnaw on this prose, said with love!

A Drinking Song by Balder12: Endverse snapshot. This one is mostly just bone hurting juice but it's one of my favorite characterizations of them - sometimes I find that endverse stories either make Cas way too soft or fucked up in a way I find goes too far in a direction I don't agree with, this one feels pitch perfect.

Everyone Is Trying to Get to the Bar by Balder12: All time fave angel true form fic!!! It's deliciously weird and fun, definitely a mind-melter. I only read it the once but sometimes I think about it and get a funny little shiver.

Tall Grass by aeli_kindara: This is another 'universal favorite', but also for good reason. Extraordinarily tender, it's my personal favorite Cas-grows-a-garden post canon story, especially because it manages to write a jealousy plotline that doesn't make me want to bite and kill. Dean's voice is exactly right and everything unfurls with this tender inevitability, idk how else to describe it! It also ends on a final image that's so lovely it's seared into my brain.

Dean (and Cas') Top 13 Zepp Traxx by pantheon_of_discord: Nobody does vignettes like supernatural writers. I love the way the road feels in this one, and how carefully picked each moment is. A string of pearls, this fic.

There's Only One Sure Thing That I Know by blinkiesays: Dean and Cas get trapped in the midwest by a curse that doesn't let them leave the state, and they want to break it until they don't. Being trapped gives them an excuse to want to settle down, but the route they take to get there is, of course, circuitous. This one hurts a little because it takes place while Sam is dead, but it isn't gratuitous in its sadness. Sweet and melancholy.

the taste of gravel in the mouth by deathbanjo: FAVE FAVE FAVE FAVE. I push this one at everyone I can. I'm extremely picky about 'Dean's self loathing' fics, mainly because I think it can veer easily into melodrama, but this author weaves Dean's self hatred and his anger together very seamlessly, in a way that feels real to the show. Also, Cas is perfect.

sweeter coming from my hand by perilously: A story that I liked before Nov5 and withstood the test of time!! Dean and Cas get married/soul-bound in order to both remove the Mark of Cain and fix Cas's grace. Features a formative scene for me where Cas expresses worries about if he has a soul and Dean raps knuckles on his chest, going, "knock knock, sounds like a soul in there." If you like this one, perilously has many good fics that are just as in character.

On Labor by a_good_soldier: I very nearly couldn't finish this one, but not because it's bad, haha. The premise just makes me want to tear my clothes in mourning - Dean knows Cas is in love with him, after getting him back from the Empty, and decides that he should give him what he wants without realizing that he wants it too. Dean performatively dating Cas while trying to talk himself into liking it (not knowing that he does actually like it) is exactly the kind of convoluted bullshit Dean's internalized homophobia would do to him. Nauseating and spectacular. Sticks in your brain for weeks.

canticles by 2street2car: An excellent 'weird girl best friends' fic. After striking out at the brothel, Dean decides to treat Cas to the "first date experience" himself, since the guy might die the next day. To sum it up succinctly: the rituals are intricate. And dirty dancing is referenced!

we shovel all the ashes out by xylodemon: As the author states themself, this fic is a love letter to California - it's a road trip casefic that's so rooted in place, the setting is rich and lush and the atmosphere makes me ache, and not just because it's set in my home state! I saved this one for last because this is another prolific author who has many stories I come back to again and again (Sweet Home and Love: A Retrospective are particularly good), they really don't miss. Usually when I read fic, it's a mad dash to the finish, but I took my time with this one. I highly encourage you to do the same :)

#dear god. ok. this got long #if u want more recs i mean it alie is Thee fic reccer i trust #but these are some gems i carry around w me :)#nathaniel.txt #answered #fic rec

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rowyn-writes · 4 years ago

Text

A Mother's Love (Dean x Wife!Reader)

Warnings: Language, fluff, major angst, implications of divorce, arguing, Dean being mean to Jack

Pairings: Dean x Wife!Reader

Characters: Dean, Jack, Sam, Reader, Cas (mentioned only)

Word count: 2.7k

You threw your bag down as you entered the bunker, exhausted from your last hunt. This was one of the rare cases where you worked alone.

Sometimes you needed the time to yourself, away from all the men. Sometimes you would go hunting with Jody and Claire, but even then, those two argued like cats and dogs.

"Y/N," Jack smiled as you entered the kitchen. "How was the hunt?"

"It was pretty good, actually." You grinned as you sat across from him. "I was chasing down this werewolf in Tennessee, and it was really strange. He'd kill one person, turn the next, and repeat that cycle."

"That's. . . Weird." He furrowed his eyebrows.

"That's what I said. Well," You continued on with the story of your hunt, watching as Jack's eyes widened in amazement and awe.

"Y/N?" Dean called your name, entering the kitchen. "Hey, sweetheart. I didn't know you were home?"

You stood up, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Sorry, babe. I got sidetracked. I was just telling Jack about my trip." You smiled, looking over at the boy. You were concerned, as the smile fell from his face and he looked away from you and Dean. "You okay, kid?"

"Yeah," He nodded, not meeting your eye. "I'll give you two some space." He mumbled as he walked out of the kitchen.

"Does he seem off to you?" You asked Dean.

"Nah, he acts like he usually does. Squirrelly and weird."

"Says the squirrel himself." You rolled your eyes. "Did something happen while I was gone?"

Dean said nothing as he looked down, an obvious indicator that he was guilty of something. "Dean," You growled lowly. "Did you say something to Jack? Something that would upset him somehow?"

When Dean didn't give you an answer, you shook your head as you follow Jack to his room.

"Jack." You called out. He seemed to be lost in thought, as he didn't react to your words. "Jack!" You said louder, causing him to turn around. There was a tiny amount of fear in his eyes. If you didn't know him, it wouldn't have affected you.

"What's wrong?" You asked softly, resting your hand on his shoulder.

"Nothing." He spoke. "Why would anything be wrong?"

"Jack, I saw how you reacted when Dean came in. You looked like a kicked puppy. Don't tell me it's nothing, kiddo."

In the time you had known Jack, you had grown to care for him deeply. You had always wanted kids, but in this life, it wasn't possible. Well, it was, but you knew you didn't want your children to do what you do. So when Jack was born, you felt extremely happy because it felt like you finally had a child. Albeit, he did look twenty.

"Dean doesn't like me very much." He admitted.

"I'm sure that's not true. . ." You argued weakly. In all honesty, you didn't think Dean liked Jack either. It's not like he was abusive, but he did treat him differently than everyone else.

"But it is, Y/N."

"How do you know, Jack? With Dean, it takes him time to warm up to people. It took him months to actually trust me. He's a cautious person."

"Did he threaten you too?" Jack asked, genuinely curious. His head was tilted to the side, his honey blonde hair falling into his eyes. He had gotten that head tilt from Cas.

"Dean. . . Threatened you?" You whispered hoarsely.

"Yes," He nodded. "He told me if I hurt you or Sam, or anyone, that he would be the one to hunt me down and kill me."

Your mouth popped open in horror. You could never imagine your sweet, loveable, goofy Dean threatening Jack. "What else did he say, Jack? Did he say anything prior to this?"

"He said that he doesn't think that I can be saved. He said that even though you and Sam think that I can, that he doesn't."

"Jack, you don't need to be saved. There is no saving to do. You are a good kid. You would never do anything to intentionally hurt anyone. I'm so sorry. I should have been there." You sigh.

"He's not wrong, Y/N. I can't be saved. What if I turn out like my father, my real father."

You frowned as you cupped his face in your hands. "Jack, you are nothing, and I mean nothing, like Lucifer. You are just like your mother. You are sweet, caring, and you are empathetic. Just like Kelly."

"You really believe that?" He whispered, tears forming in his eyes.

"No, I don't believe it, Jack. I know it. You are nothing like Lucifer. If anything, you are much more like Castiel."

"Really?" He smiled.

"Yeah," You nodded. "You see, I don't know if you know this, but Cas does this little thing where he tilts his head to the side if he doesn't understand something or if he's perplexed. And I noticed that you do the same thing." Jack's smile widened as you removed your hands from his face. "And neither of you have any knowledge of pop culture. Even though Cas was here for a lot longer than you, he never understood a single reference any of us made. Even if it was something like Scooby Doo." You giggled, feeling your throat tightening at the thought of your dead friend. "And you two state the obvious a lot. Not in a bad way, more in a comedic way. It lightens the mood nearly every time. Cas would rarely smile. When I asked him why, he would say that the world was going to hell and he didn't have anything to smile about. But when he did smile, it would make everyone else smile with him. The same goes for you. Just seeing that little toothy grin of yours makes me smile. I mean hell, you two even look a lot alike."

"Could you tell me more about him?" Jack asked.

"Of course, but I have something to take care of first. Then you and I will cuddle up and watch a movie and I'll tell you everything you want to know about Cas, okay?"

"Yeah, I'd like that." He spoke. "Before you go, could I ask you something?" You nodded. "If I were to have a mother figure, and I called her mom, do you think my mother would be upset?"

"No, sweetheart, I don't think she would be upset. I think that she would be happy that there's someone down here taking care of you and you feel comfortable enough to call them mom." You said, completely oblivious as to what Jack was suggesting.

"Then. . . Could I call you mom?"

You felt the air leave your lungs as his words hit you like a truck. Jack watched as tears welled up in your eyes. Jack was horrified; he had never meant to make you cry. "Yo-you want to call me m-mom?" You stammer.

"If you're not comfortable with it I understand. I'm sorry, Y/N, I-"

You cut him off with a tight embrace. "Of course you can call me mom." You whisper, squeezing the boy tightly.

"Why are you crying?" He questioned.

"These are happy tears, Jack. I'm not upset. It's just. . . I never thought that I would have children, but then you came along, and you gave me what I wanted. You gave me a chance to be a mother."

"Thank you for being here for me, mom."

You gave Jack a huge smile as you pulled away. "Okay," You said, putting a hand on his arm. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to deal with my ass of a husband."

---

"Dean Winchester," You boomed, roaming around the bunker in search for your husband.

"Ooooh, you're in trouble." You hear Sam snicker.

"But I didn't do anything. Wait, what day is it?" Dean asked frantically.

"April ninth." Sam quipped.

"Okay, no birthday, no anniversary, so there's that."

You entered The Dean Cave, as Dean called it, seeing red. "What the hell, Winchester." You growled. "Sam, out. Now."

"You don't have to tell me twice." Sam said, grabbing his bowl of popcorn and walking out of the room.

"Yes, darling, sweetheart, love of my life. What can I do for you?" Dean spoke sweetly, giving you those stupid, green doe eyes.

"Jack told me." You said simply. "He told me what you said to him. That if it comes down to killing him, that you would be the one to do it. That there was no saving him."

"Y/N, you have to understand where I'm coming from." He tried to reason with you. "You should have seen him. He was stabbing himself with a knife! And it closed up like it was nothing! It's not normal. He's not normal."

"And?! None of us are normal, Dean. We've all died and came back to life. Sam didn't have a soul, he was hooked on demon blood, yet you were still there for him. You still believed in him. You died and became a demon, you bore the Mark of Cain and had a thing for God's friggin sister! And I still loved you through it. I have been brainwashed and manipulated into hurting all of you, and you still forgave me! Cas betrayed us, and we were still there for him. None of us are fucking normal! So what the hell, Dean? You're holding a grudge against Jack just because of who his dad is?"

"His father is Lucifer, Y/N!"

"Well that's stating the goddamn obvious!" You yelled.

"He could turn on us at any moment! We don't know this kid. We don't know what he can do."

"So we learn, Dean! We should help him figure out his way. Guide him in the right direction. Show him what a true, loving family looks like!"

"We are not his family, Y/N! And he's not our family. He never will be." Dean argued.

You flinched back, glaring at Dean. "How dare you! You son of a bitch! Whether you believe it or not, Jack is family. To me and to Sam. We care about him and love him!"

"He doesn't even know what love means!"

"Yes, he does! Because he feels things, Dean. He cares. He cares about all of us, including you. You know, he asked me if he could call me mom today. Did you know that? He trusts me and cares for me so much that he sees me as a mother figure."

"He's got you brainwashed, Y/N! Can't you see that?!"

"If he looked like his actual age, would you be acting like this?"

"What kind of question is that." He scoffed.

"If Jack looked four months old instead of twenty, would you still be treating him like this?" You asked steadily. Dean remained silent. "See! He is four months old, no matter how old he looks, he's still a baby."

"So, what, you want me to change his diaper or some shit?"

"No! I want you to treat him like a human being!" You yelled.

"But he's not human!"

You and Dean stood your ground, neither of you letting up. "Fine. I'm leaving then. And I'm taking Jack with me."

"No, you're not."

"Fucking watch me, Dean. I can't even look at you right now. Because you are not the man I married. That man was compassionate and caring. This one isn't. And until he comes back, I'm staying away." You cried.

Before Dean could get another word out, you left the den. You noticed that Sam was standing in the hallway, giving you a saddened look. "You're really leaving?"

"I'm sorry, Sam." You sobbed. "But I can't be around him right now. And I don't think Jack should be either. We're going to my parents house for a while. And until he gets his shit together, I'm not coming back.

"I know. I don't understand why Dean is acting like this." He mumbled.

"I don't either. It's so unlike him." You agreed.

"So what are you going to tell Jack?"

"Just that we're going to take a little road trip and visit my parents. I don't know, Sam, this whole thing is so strange to me. But I know have to go."

Sam frowned as he pulled you into a hug. "I'm really going to miss you. But you do what you need to do. And if you ever need anything, you call me, okay? I don't care what time of day it is, call me."

"I will." You squeeze Sam tightly. "Thank you for being an amazing brother and best friend." You pulled away, teary eyed as you parted from your brother in law. "I hope to be back soon."

You softly knocked on Jack's door before entering. "Hey, Jack." You smiled.

"Mom!" He said excitedly. "Are we going to watch movies now?"

"Actually, there's been a change of plans. Me and you are going on a road trip to visit my parents."

"Really? Are Sam and Dean coming with us?"

You swallowed hard, a lump forming in your throat. "No, actually. This is a trip just for us. Sam and Dean wanted to stay here just in case they find a case or something that can get Mary back from apocalypse world. So I'm going to help you pack and then we can get on the road."

---

You had sent Jack to your car, having him put everything in the trunk while you finished up things in the bunker. The last thing you grabbed was a machete that belonged to your father before he gave it to you.

"Don't go." A voice whispered. You turned to see Dean, who looked like he had been crying. "Please don't leave."

You swallowed hard, feeling tears rush to your eyes once more. "Will you accept Jack as family?"

"Y/N-" Dean said, exasperated. "He can stayed here but he's not family."

"That's not good enough, Dean. Because I know how you act around people you don't trust."

"You can't force me to trust him." Dean scoffed.

"That's not what I want. I want you to get to know him. I want you to try."

"Y/N. . . I just. . . I can't."

"I think. . . I think we need time apart." You mumbled.

"Y/N, please –"

"Only for a little bit." You assured him. "They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, after all." You gave him a sad smile, trying to control your tears.

You turned to leave before Dean's voice stopped you. "If you leave, then we're over. That's it. Don't bother coming home."

You sighed as you looked back at Dean. You cupped his face in your hands and gave him a slow, sensual kiss. You could feel salty tears on your lips as you memorized how Dean's mouth felt against yours. It was warm and soft. You could taste the remnants whiskey on his breath.

You pulled away slightly, resting your forehead on Dean's. You felt tears streaming down your face as you looked the man you had grown to love over the past ten years. You had been through hell and back, literally. You had lost each other, fell out of love and back in love.

"This isn't goodbye, Dean." You whimpered. "I swear it isn't. I love you with every part of my soul. I'm not choosing Jack over you, okay? I just need time. I need you to wait for me."

"That's all I've ever done, Y/N." Dean shook his head. "I waited on you when you were in relationships, when you were heartbroken, when your sister died, I waited on you to love me back. I'm tired of waiting. I will always love you, and you'll always be with me. You've changed me, and I'm so thankful for it. You've made me a better man. But I can't. . . I can't keep doing this, Y/N." He whispered as he slipped off his wedding band. "This is goodbye." He set the ring in your hand, curling your fingers around it. "Goodbye, sweetheart." He gave you one final kiss. But this one was rough and full of passion. It really was goodbye.

"Dean, please." You cried. He pressed a swift kiss to the crown of your head before leaving you standing alone in the library. Sobs racked through your body as you clutched Dean's ring to your chest. "Please come back." You whispered.

You wiped your face of tears and stuck Dean's ring in your pocket. There would be time for tears later. Right now you just needed to get out of the bunker. As you looked around the library, you realized you had never felt this alone.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x wife!reader #supernatural #supernatural fluff #supernatural angst #jack kline #sam winchester #castiel #season 12 #dean winchester angst

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spn-fanfic-reblog-writes · 2 years ago

Text

Day 10: Fire

Crack. Angst.

Characters: MOC!Dean, Sam, Castiel, Witch!Reader

Warning: a ton of cursing and name calling. Panicking.

Author’s Note: this just came to me. Not Beta’d. Mistakes my own. Enjoy!

Author Note 2: italics are thoughts.

Feedback is gold!

What do you do when you realize you made a huge mistake?

Because I’m tied up in a chair watching the Winchester brothers get tortured until I (or possibly Sam but not sure they knew that) say yes to casting an apocalyptic-level spell. They want to summon their god and I’m like fuck that shit. I don’t wanna die.

There are a lot of factors here, such as

Dean has the Mark of Cain and I’m pretty sure has a time limit or level of damage until he loses control (I sound like a fucking gamer but not sure how else to think about it);

Sam surprisingly seems to be tolerating this situation well (?) (Dean is too but still amazed);

the asshole knows what he is doing because there are angel blocking sigils everywhere so Castiel can’t even find us even if I did pray to him which I have a lot; and

the spell requires a human sacrifice which means there is potentially another person to save.

I’m dying (sobbing) here hearing their screams and groans watching these two douchebags torture my friends.

I’m a fucking witch and they put a ball gag in my mouth to make sure I don’t speak. I have TMJ disorder. My jaw is screaming at me. I have a fucking tension headache from the sobbing, screaming, and general hatred of the assholes.

The question is what can I do? I know somatic spells but they are like trying to communicate in sign language that requires larger and wider movements than my tied-to-the-chair arms can do right now. Alternatively, I pray and wait out until Dean loses his shit with The Mark taking over. The question is can Sam and I get out of here and bring him back? I don’t know.

It’s all calculated risks. Being terrified makes things that much harder to think and reason.

So, I’m gonna take a breath, despite all the drool that’s poured down my face and soaked my clothes, and calm down a little, despite the screams and yells from my friends.

I’m gonna attempt the fucking somatic elemental spells. Maybe, just maybe I can get them free. Fuck, it fizzled. Both hands, ha! Froze the ropes next to their feet. Yes. Sam looked at me for half a second then glared at the assholes trying to keep their attention off of me.

Ok, another deep breath in through the nose, out through the mouth. Concentrate, Y/N. You can do this. I can do this. Yes! Froze the floor beneath the dickwades. Hahaha! They fell. Aim fire at their wrist ropes. Please don’t get burned and sorry if you do. Please work! Please work. Yes! I rock. Ooo, rocks.

Shit. Now they fight. Ugh. I’m stuck here, tied up, and not able to do anything to get me out. I wonder if I fell over if it’ll break this shitty chair. I can help them. Though bringing the building down is a bad idea but maybe I can crack the wards to get Castiel here.

Take off shoes, not wearing socks. Shut up, Mom. I don’t care. Plant feet, check. Relax, trying. Ground self, draw energy. I got this. Don’t bring down the building, Y/N. Crack the walls. Crack the walls.

Oh my god! I think I just dislocated my jaw. Fuck! Shit, too much shaking. Too much shaking. I don’t want to see this. Ah, ow, my head. I hate how unstable chairs are during earthquakes.

Castiel, get your feathery butt here and save us from these pagan-god-worshipping assholes and fix my god damned jaw.

I’m crying from my jaw. I’m so pathetic. I can cut myself as many times as needed for any spell (Yea, it has been a lot before) and deal with a lot of magical torture, but my jaw is dislocated and I’m crying.

Y/N gasped and opened her eyes. I did heart wings. Yay! He’s here. Oh, fuck. I’m about to be squished. Wiggle away. Wiggle away. God damned chair. Wiggle—.

“Y/N? Y/N! Come on, Sweetheart, wake up.”

I know that voice. Mmm, his hand feels nice on my face.

Y/N eyes fluttered open and looked up at the giant hole in the ceiling revealing the night sky. “That’s pretty. Kind of like Van Gogh’s work but not as whirly.”

“She’s fine,” said Sam with a smirk.

“Shut up,” Y/N said. She sat up and looked around, “Where were the dickwads?”

Sam tsked and motioned his head towards a very large, very heavy piece of concrete with a hand sticking out.

Y/N grimaced. “Oops?” She asked. “Are they dead?”

“Yes,” stated Castiel.

Y/N remembered, “Fuck! Castiel, you need to see if there is something else here. The spell required a human sacrifice.”

Dean and Sam exchanged a questioning look.

Castiel disappeared then reappeared seconds later shaking his head. “There is no one else here,” he advised in his gravely voice.

She exhaled, not realizing she was holding her breath. “Assholes thought I’d sacrifice one of you? Seriously? Dead idiots.”

She stood up and looked at the floor. “Anyone seen my shoes?” Y/N asked and then looked at her bare feet with dark blue sparkling toenails.

“Nice toes,” said Dean with a grin.

“Like the night sky,” she stuck her tongue out at him and then bit her lip.

“I don’t see your shoes anywhere,” said Sam.

Castiel shook his head in agreement.

“Well shit. Oh well. I can get more shoes. Let’s go. Dead bodies creep me out,” Y/N stated and carefully walked over to Castiel.

The brothers head over to Castiel as well.

“How did you do those spells?” asked Sam.

“I have a deaf cousin who is also a witch and they taught them to me. They’re somatic spells but not the easiest since hand movements need precision and accuracy or they backfire, which is really hard to do when you’re tied up,” she explained.

Castiel chuckled at her and flew back to the bunker.

Y/N sat down then thought about the spell. “Um, guys, should we have collected all the spell stuff before leaving?”

Sam and Dean groaned.

Tag list: @deancaskiss

@riley-phoenix

@myloversgone

Graphics: @firefly-graphics

#dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural #prompt #august 2022 mini drabble event #dreamydrabble #magic spn #spn #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #supernatural Drabble #witch!reader

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