#but dean is the driving force behind pretty much everything

[raven-wraith]

Rewatching Supernatural (yeah yeah I know) but man the writers were really damn convinced for the first season or two that Sam is the main character

[novafics]

l Storm l

Dean Winchester x Reader 

Warnings: storms, Talk of potential injury, talk of animal abuse.

Summary: Coming back from a hunt you discover something very interesting, but how is Dean going to react to this discovery?

Word Count: 801

Masterlist

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You knew this was a bad idea the moment you contemplated doing it, but how could you resist?. 

You had just finished your solo Vampire hunt and was on the way back to the bunker. The hunt itself was relatively easy, only 1 vampire gone rogue and it was over faster than you thought it would be, so fast that you thought you would rather make the drive that very night back to the bunker instead of staying in the motel you had already pre-booked. You don’t know why, whether it was the lure of your soft, warm bed or the thought of Dean waiting for you in your soft warm bed but you were eager to return to your man. That, and you had a gut feeling that there was a reason you needed to make your way back early.

Half way through the drive back the weather took a turn for the worse, the sky looked dark and angry while there was rain pelting your windscreen with such force you thought it might just break. It got to a point that you had to pull over, the last thing you wanted was to survive a vampire hunt just to get taken out by a storm. You pulled over into a clearing on the side of the road, it was pretty much barren apart from a few trees now bare with the force of the wind stripping each and every tree of their remaining leaves.

As you sat in the car, the storm still causing havoc, you spotted something out of the corner of your eye. Over next to one of the trees sat a black bag, seeming to be moving with a force that was contained inside the bag and not from the forces raging outside. Deciding to investigate you took a strong breath in preparing yourself for the wet and cold you were about to face and you set off for the tree.

Slowly bending down you discovered that there was definitely something inside this bag, and it wanted out!.

Holding your breath once more you tore into the bag to discover a miserable looking,  cold and shivering puppy. ‘Who the hell would do such a thing?!’ you thought to yourself. You had seen some pretty gruesome shit in your time as a hunter with the boys but never something this inhumane to an innocent animal. 

Putting your anger aside for the sake of this little puppy you quickly gathered him up into your arms and made your way back to the temporary safety of the car. Once inside you checked over the puppy to see if there weren't any injuries you should worry about and after not finding anything for a solid 20 minutes you let out the breath you were holding finally realising that the innocent dog was ok.

Not even a second after you stop looking over the dog he climbed into your lap and started licking your face to show his gratitude. “What am I gonna do with you huh?” you asked the puppy as if he was gonna answer you. 

You knew that Dean was not a dog person, Sam yes so that wouldn’t be a problem but Dean? He was not gonna be happy, but as the puppy looked into your eyes, still sat in your lap how could you resist?

After the further 40 minute drive back to the bunker you were finally back, the puppy next to you eager to see everything inside. You pushed open the bunker door and made your way down the steps, you didn’t get much further before you were tackled into a hug by Dean.

“Where have you been?! I was so close to going out into the storm and finding you myself, are you alright sweetheart?” he said frantically, holding your face in his hands. “Yes I'm fine baby, i promise” you said finally giving in and kissing him as you had been wishing to for the last few hours.

“Hey is that a dog?” you heard Sam say from behind Dean. The puppy was currently sitting waiting patiently behind your legs waiting to be introduced. “Yes he’s the reason I was so late, someone just threw him away in a bag, can you believe that?!. Look I know you're not a fan of dog’s Dean but ..” your rambling was cut short with another kiss from Dean making you relax instantly and all the stress you had melted away. “I don’t care if you came back with an entire zoo as long as I have you here with me, '' Dean said, making tears come to your eyes.

“So, what should we name him?” Dean said, bending down to lovingly stroke the puppy. “I've been thinking, I think his name should be…. Storm”.

[shirtlesssammy]

Dean Winchester's Multiverse Adventures

"Every notebook on this particular shelf tells a version of how you die. You specifically: heart attack, burned by a red-haired witch, stabbed by a ghoul in a graveyard, and on and on... But which one’s right? That depends on you, on the choices you make." Billie says this in Supernatural season 13, Advanced Thanatology. The books are impersonal portals into Dean's own personal multiverse.

When Mary Campbell talks to John about her experiences in the gateway between worlds, she tells him that she saw "everything - every possible version of myself." In the space between the worlds, she sees herself - her beginnings and endings, her triumphs and failures. First of all, it's pretty impressive that she's not insane after this. Mary's always been stronger than we gave her credit for. But the space between the worlds sounds shockingly personal.

In Supernatural, we got a multiverse which brought us back versions of long-dead characters, and we made our way to those worlds through god-level powers. Angels may have brought us there during the Kripke era (or it may have been Zachariah's illusion skillz?). Jack's impending birth split reality - ostensibly because he was so powerfully strong. However, I propose that there is no time and space when you're talking about god-powers. Jack became God and his heaven is apparently lousy with portals to other worlds. Jack became God and his birth was riddled with portals to other worlds. Is it the godhood, or a future story that will tell us exactly why he's the key to world traveling? When you're dealing with time and space, your ending exists alongside your beginning, after all. This is a rich area to explore! The void could be where the god-powers live - the special view into the multi-verse that let Chuck see it all.

Anyway, I digress. Dean Winchester's driving through Heaven. He's heavily traumatized. The man just died, after all. In doing so, he left Sammy behind to stumble through life on his own (abandoning Sam is its own kind of trauma). He lost his best friend in the most agonizing way. And I think the Dean we saw in the finale was terrified to meddle in those larger patterns of destiny - those cosmic forces that ripped so much of his selfhood from him. He's trying to find himself and who he should be (hello, job application), he's trying to convince himself that "what's dead should stay dead" (Cas sacrificed himself and they need to accept that and live their lives), and it all feels...terrible (beer bottles everywhere). Maybe because he's looking for something new once he gets to Heaven, maybe Chuck's obsession with Dean and his car gave them extra powers, maybe future!Dean gives himself those powers and we don't even know it yet...Dean finds those cracks in Heaven's armor that lets him slip through to other worlds.

It's one thing to think of Dean slipping blithely from world to world, with his view of his other selves a bit myopic. He could take a trip to Squirrel World, and a trip to Dean Smith Verse, and that one world where everyone's a mermaid. After all, he's only seeing a sampling of AUs, just like he did in Supernatural. Right??? But Mary says she saw every version of herself when she was in the space between the worlds. Think of what that must have been like for Dean! Just stepping into that void is enough to see everything. He doesn't even need to put a toe into another doorway to know himself more than anybody should. He knows himself more than he would from reading through Death's books because the void between the worlds also shows his lives. He's dead and therefore more tear-proof in the void. I propose that he saw it all and retained it too. And being Dean Winchester, he probably focused on the worst aspects of himself.

The Dean we see in the Winchesters finale carries a sorrow that I think can provide a rich well to explore in (hopefully) future Supernatural properties. I think it's important to understand that the Dean we see would have also experienced Mary's revelation: he must have seen every version of himself. His family history spiders out from there - Dean's heard his own story out of Chuck's mouth often enough to follow the threads. I think Dean saw all of his lives and wondered if he really was cursed, or broken. I think he mostly saw sorrow. There can be no peace - no pacification in Heaven - with that weighty burden.

Dean Winchester knows all about death. He's died over a hundred times and that was just in his OWN world. What Dean doesn't understand - the frontier he's so rarely pursued - is living. In future multiverse adventures (please, please, please) I think he's going to finally learn about that.

[alulaspeaks]

Abandoned WIP: Cage fighting, I guess?

Big Idea: The cage fighting canon divergence no one asked for or wanted. Remember 13x11 the Breakdown (I didn’t and had to ask for help)? Where it’s revealed there’s hundreds of thousands of monsters who all communicate via chatroom? Yeah, I hated that. But I thought, if it has to exist, let’s at least cage fight about it. So Sam gets taken and he was gonna help a young werewolf escape and she was gonna get Dean and he was gonna burn shit down or whatever.

Why it was abandoned: I dunno, folks, this one is pretty dumb. I was big mad about the revelation of a giant, underground monster network because it felt like it went exactly against the established Supernatural vibes, and therefore I decided to write into that world. With a cage fighting thing? WTF was I thinking. My spite could not sustain me through an idea that was actually neither cool nor interesting. To be fair, I have written things that go against the established vibes and don’t jive with what Supernatural is actually about. But it was tropes I liked and thought were fun at the time, so it was good actually, ok? Click the read more at your own risk

Snippet:

Sam's temples are throbbing again, the thump thump of his blood all he feels for a long, disorienting moment. His head is fuzzy and his mouth tastes foul, like he pulled another set of back to back all nighters bent over his books. But that's not right, because Dean is back and Sam can finally rest. Sweat slides down from his hairline and Sam slits his eyes open to bright blinding white. He slams them shut again and finally registers the low hum of sound, the constant rustle of distant movement. Unease settles over Sam's mind, but he pushes it back because Dean is back and things are fine. Something clangs and the ground beneath Sam's cheek vibrates with movement. His heart kicks into overdrive, hairs on his arms and at the back of his neck pricking up, every instinct whispering get up, get up, get up.

Sam forces his eyes open to the stark, white of floodlights trained on him, their heat slicking his skin with sweat. He gets his feet under him, forcing himself to stand on watery legs. A flash of movement in his peripheral and Sam spins, catches a glancing blow on the shoulder, moves with it, coming round to drive his elbow into his attacker's back. A grunt of pain and a snarl and his attacker spins, teeth glinting bloody. He's shorter than Sam, his face covered in loose, wrinkled skin and Sam shivers. Rugaru always make his stomach twist.

The rugaru charges, Sam ducks under his swinging fist, but he twists, shoulder checks Sam. Sam stumbles, back colliding hard with metal bars, Sam's stomach sinks, but he doesn't have time to think, because the rugaru is charging again, fingers crooked into claws. Sam lets him get close, thrusts his arms out to bat the rugaru's hands away, hooks his hands behind his neck and pulls his head down into the upthrust of his knee. The rugaru cries out and falls to the floor.

Sam backs away from the groaning rugaru and finally takes in his surroundings. Metal bars on all four sides, a cage, his stomach sinks like lead. Floodlights pour in from every angle, one hanging from the cage's ceiling, to illuminate the cage and a small circle of empty floor around it, everything beyond it is darkness to his dazzled eyes. But he's being watched, the weight of eyes pressing into him, the currents of air shifting through a crowded room.

The rugaru is climbing back to his feet and Sam's mind races to figure out how he got here. He was with Dean, wrapping up a hunt outside Chicago, but he can't remember much more, but from the throbbing head and tacky spit, he must have been drugged, taken who knows where. His over shirt has been stripped away, and his boots and socks, too. Even his belt. All he has are his bare hands and the rugaru breathing down his neck.

Sam can't afford to let this drag out. This rugaru is't skilled at fighting, but he is strong, and the longer this goes on the more likely Sam is to make a mistake. The rugaru circles him, reluctant to charge in again, so Sam advances, dropping low to swipe at his feet. He staggers back and Sam surges forward, drives his head into the metal bars, gritting his teeth at the resounding crack. Sam grabs the rugaru in a choke hold, arching back to drag his feet from the ground. He can't kill it, no fire, but he can knock it out. The rugaru gurgles and claws at his arms, but it can't break the hold.

"My friends," a voice booms out of the speaker hanging from the ceiling of the cage, its cord tacked to the sheet metal until it disappears through the bars. "I put out the call and you answered." A short sharp roar rises from the darkness beyond the bars, dozens of voices in a unified call, a-hoo. A woman strolls into the circle of light, her dark braid hangs down over her shoulder, wide, red mouth smiling against the microphone. "It's alway a good night at the fight," a-hoo the crowd answers, "but we've got something special tonight. Let's give a fine, fanged welcome to our newest guest, our own personal boogeyman, Sam Winchester."

The noise is deafening, feet stomping, metal clanging, voices rising in howls and roars, and short barking laughs, in the darkness fangs glint and yellow eyes refract light like a predator's at night. Sam's spins in a slow circle, keeping the twitching rugaru in front of him, to see the cage surrounded on all sides by the monsters he's spent his life hunting. The rugaru's legs and arms spasm and he goes limp in Sam's arms. Sam drops him, his body thudding to the ground as the woman slinks up to the bars.

"Welcome to the cage," she shouts, throwing her arms out wide. The crowd a-hoos back and then breaks out into sharp-edged laughter. She drops the microphone to her side and steps closer.

"What the fuck is this?" Sam asks, though the sinking feeling in his gut tells him he already knows.

"Oh sweetheart, this is where you’re going to die,” she grins even wider, and her pupils flash into cat-like slits, “and where you make me disgustingly rich."

Sam doesn't see the cattle prod that catches him in the side, but he feels it, if only for a second.

[jawritter]

Daddy’s Home

Summary: Dean’s been away from his Omega too long, and he has a very interesting way of waking her up to let her know he’s home.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Smut, this is pretty much porn with almost no plot. Oral (female receiving), mentions of rut, hint of a breeding kink, Daddy kink, unprotected smut, abo dynamics, knotting, scenting marking, a hint of possessiveness that comes with abo. language, I think that’s about it. 

Written for: @spnkinkbingo

Square Field: Daddy Kink

Word Count: 2087

Dividers: @firefly-graphics

A/N: This fic is completely unbeta’d, so all mistakes and general bullshit are my own! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! I hope you all enjoy this one!

Masterlist    My Patreon

You always knew when your Alpha was close to his rut, even if it was a damn week away. There were certain aspects of him that changed during the time when his hormones were at their highest, and the most basic animalistic instincts seem to shove their way to the forefront of his personality.

You’d caught him more than once slipping up behind you while you were doing the dishes to brush against you to layer you with his scent, letting everyone and everything around him know just who you belonged to. He’d also become a lot more cuddly than he normally was, wanting to hold you while you read a book in the evening, or wanting you to sit in his lap while you watched movies together in the big recliners in the Dean Cave. It was nothing but an excuse to scent you, but you always craved the closeness of your Alpha, so you really didn’t mind at all. 

He was with you all the time. You could do nothing alone, not even shower. Every time you turned around he was there.  You often wonder if it was because his brother, Sam, who is also an Alpha, shared the bunker with the two of you, and he felt the need to guard you from the other Alpha in the place, but you never really looked into is and just accepted it as just something Dean would do close to this time. 

Then of course there was the sex. There was literally no point in even putting clothes on to go to bed when Dean was this close to a rut. They’d just end up in shreds on the floor before the night was out...or before he even climbed into bed…

Dean had been on a hunt now for at least three weeks with Sam, a shifter from the looks of it, and it had been killing him to be so far away from you when he was this close to going into rut, and feared more than anything that’s he’d end up going into full blown rut if the hunt hadn’t ended when it did.

You were never a hunter, you just never wanted to be involved in that aspect of it all. You were fine with research, and you were also good at it, but that also means you were often at home and away from your Alpha, who was whining on the phone with you liked a kicked puppy when you had hung up with him tonight because you were still a state over and he wasn’t home to you yet; even though they were on their way back now Dean was becoming very impatient. 

You didn’t like the distance either, but you knew what you signed up for the moment you had agreed to let Dean claim you. So it was just something you’d have to endure as long as Dean was hunting, which was probably going to be for the rest of your natural lives. 

You don’t know what time you’d gone to bed that night, but it hadn’t been all that late, honestly you think you did it out of boredom. The faster you fell asleep, the sooner you’d be in your Alpha’s arms anyway. It honestly didn’t feel like you had been out all that long, and at first you weren’t sure if you were just dreaming or not. It was one of those moments where you were pretty sure you were awake, but somehow still asleep all at the same time. 

In your “dream” you were almost certain that you could feel the warmth of someone’s tongue on your core, sliding through your folds and around your clit, making you shiver even in your sleep. A sleepy moan falls from your throat at the feeling, and you force yourself out of the blanket of sleep, opening your eyes to be greeted by the sight of your Alpha with your legs spread wide, and his mouth lapping at your cunt in an almost animalistic, possessive manner, purring like it was greatest thing he’d ever tasted and sending a gush of slick from your core at the sight alone. 

“Dean,” you moan breathlessly, and the Alpha’s eyes meet yours with the golden glow you had become all too familiar with penetrating the dark room, and making the Omega inside of you quiver and submit without him even having to say a word.

He never stopped doing what he was doing, just growled in response as he took your swollen bud in between his sinful lips, sucking at and causing your back to arch off the bed as his fingers press bruisingly into your hips to hold you still for him. 

All coherent thought flew right out of the window as he then started to eat at you like a man starved. Most of the humanity that he normally clung to was far gone from him, and the raw, animal instincts of the Alpha taking the reins as his tongue dipped into your slick heat, fucking you with his impossibly long tongue, stroking your inner most walls as his stubble left the most delicious burn on your thighs and his nose brushed against your throbbing clit in the best way. 

Deep rumbling growls resonated from his chest as he continued to lap at your cunt, flattening out his tongue against your pussy, rubbing the heat of his mouth back and forth over your slit as he thrust his long, dripping Alpha cock against the mattress, desperate for friction, but to engrossed in tasting you that he couldn’t stop if he wanted too to fuck you, not yet. 

His perfect white teeth nibbling at your clit next as he sank three fingers deep into your convulsing pussy. Fucking you slowly as his mouth covers your swollen nub and he presses himself harder onto your mound, picking up the pace of his licking and sucking, alternating patterns of his spongy, hot tongue over your clit until heat was pooling in your center and your walls were twitching around his fingers as he scissors you open, preparing you for his knot after he milked your cunt for all you could give him, needing to taste your sweet heat that he’d been craving as your release pushed closer and closer with each pass of his tongue, his teeth, his lips…

“Fuck Alpha,” you cried as your walls started to crumble around his fingers and you came harder than you had since the morning he’d left for the hunt.

Dean slowed his ministrations, lapping up all that you had to give him as your slick coated his fingers and his chin, moaning at the taste of what he’d been craving the most. The thick ring of his knot was already turning an angry shade of red and swelling slightly as he fucked himself into the mattress, and even in your orgasmic state, you shivered at the thought of your Alpha being that desperate for you. 

You were still twitching with aftershocks of your high when Dean’s full length slammed into your quivering cunt with one swift thrust, and his lips found yours in a passionate kiss as his tongue invaded your mouth and he swallowed down the your scream as he filled you to the brim with his cock, damn near splitting you open.

“Fuck Omega, I missed you,” he growled as he started to fuck you slowly, pulling out only far enough to create a slight amount of friction, but not enough to really give you the sustainable push and pull you were both craving. 

“I missed you too Alpha,” you whimper underneath him, the sheer weight of his body holding you in place as he drives his cock deeper, rutting himself inside you and putting pressure on your still sensitive clit. 

“So pretty when you come apart like that baby girl. Been dreaming of tasting you since I backed out of the garage and left you here,” he breathed out between a moan of his own that had your cunt squeezing his knot as he rutted himself harder into your center, not pulling out at all now, but keeping the connection between you so deep you were pretty sure the tip of his length was pressing into your womb.

“Please Alpha,” you beg him desperately, needing more of him, needing to feel him knot you, needing to feel his warm cum filling your pulsating cunt. Desperately needing that connection that only existed between an Alpha and his Omega.

“Please what Omega, what is it you want from Daddy,” he growls, licking and nipping at your claiming mark, causing you to arch your back off the bed and press your pebbled nipples against his broad and warm chest. 

“Fuck me Daddy, please. I need your knot Alpha,” you beg him, your legs shaking as you grind your hips against his, pushing his cock even deeper into your tight channel, making him snarl into your throat at the feeling. 

“What me to fuck you pretty Omega, Want Daddy to knot you, fill you full of his cum, fuck a pup into that pretty little cunt of yours,” Dean pressed, feeling your body trembling underneath him as he you tried desperately to grind on the cock that was buried inside of you. 

“Yes Daddy please!” you scream, caring if Sam heard you or not, all you needed was your Alpha’s knot, it was all you cared about, it was all you could think about it. The need for him consuming you like a raging fire under your skin.

You watched as the Alpha took his rightful place, and the last bit of Dean’s resolve broke. His hips snapped into you at a punishing pace, dragging his manhood in and out of your pussy with enough force to nearly fuck you clean onto the floor as he chased his release as well as yours. You could feel the thick ring of his knot starting to catch at your entrance with each thrust of his hips and you knew neither of you were going to last long before you were coming apart all over again. 

“Omega,” Dean groaned as he buried his face in your neck, lapping at your mating gland, while his free hand found its way to your clit. “Feels so good baby girl. I need you to come for Daddy, come on Daddy’s knot Omega.” 

With two more thrust of his hips into yours Dean’s knot popped as he rubbed your clit furiously, locking the two of you together as your walls greedily sucked him in deeper, and you came so hard around his knot that he roared above you, shaking into his own release and coating your insides with is seed. 

When you both had come down from you high Dean carefully rolled over onto his back, laying you on his chest as he waited for his knot to go down. The scent of his rut had calmed for now, but you knew it was just beginning, and it was only the calm before the storm. 

Dean’s chest rose and fell at a more steady pace as you nuzzled into his neck, breathing in as much of his scent as you could manage at a time. 

“I missed you Alpha,” you tell him, shivering and clenching around his knot that was still buried deep inside of you as his fingers trailed up and down your spine soothingly, causing a moan to fall from his pink, swollen lips and more cum to spill out into your heat. 

“Well, if I’m not too old, and we get a pup out of this rut since you stopped taking your birth control, then it’s the last one I’m going on anyway. I’m getting too old for it. Sam and the other hunters can keep things under control, and if I do go out it won't be often. It’s getting too hard to be away from my Omega, and every time I do it throws me into a rut.”

You look up at him hopefully, letting him capture your lips in a soft, more sensitive kiss than the one he’d shared with you moments ago. 

“Promise Alpha?” 

Dean chuckled and nuzzled into your hair, growling you playfully, causing you to giggle and sending a whole new wave of pleasure through your still conjoined bodies. 

“I promise little Omega. Daddy’s home for good.” 

And he meant it this time. It was time for his happy ending. The ending he deserved.

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[wearywinchester]

Take Care of You

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: After a hunt gone wrong, Dean is always there.

Requested by Anonymous: ““Here. You look hungry.” because I feel like this is Dean's love language”

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: bit of angst, self doubt, mentions of injury, food, fluff

A huff fell past your lips for what had to be the millionth time within the last hour and a half, the motel door closing roughly behind you from the force you pushed it shut with. You were tired, you were frustrated, you were miserable. The hunt couldn’t have gone any worse in your eyes, it was one thing after another with seemingly no end in sight at the time. You were sure you’d never been off your game quite like that in all the hunts you’d done.

You felt like you failed.

It wasn’t until the sound of that familiar engine sounded and grew distant, signaling they’d left, that it felt like the tension in your chest was starting to break loose. You were sulking the entire way back to the motel, tucked away in the back seat with tears fighting desperately to spill down your cheeks. It was a battle you gave up trying to stifle eventually, those very tears rolling down heated skin before collecting on your shirt.

You were quiet the entire drive save for the occasional sniffle you muffled with your sleeve, having gone unnoticed, at least you thought you did. Because you were so wrapped up in picking apart how you did that night, about everything that had gone wrong rather than the things that went right, that you missed the way Dean glanced in the rear view on more than one occasion. You hadn’t seen the clench of his jaw and the tightening of his grip on the wheel at the mere sight of your obvious anguish over it.

He knew there was nothing he could say to make it better in that moment and that was something he hated amongst other things.

You had passed up dinner when he’d asked, as kind as ever despite your shortness with him, simply asking him to drop you off at the motel so he could grab a bite to eat with Sam. Teary eyes and a frown wasn’t something you wanted them to see, nor did you want to dampen their mood that surely was already soured at that point.

So he did just that, dropped you off in front of the room the three of you had reserved for the past two nights. Even though you could hold your own, he still waited for you to go inside before he left.

You turned on the faucet at the sink in the small bathroom, cupping your hands under the tap before bending down and splashing the cold water over your face. It was an icy jolt, one that soothed the heat in your cheeks and the clutter of thoughts in your mind. You repeated the action at least three more times before swiping the hand towel from its hook, patting your face and hands dry. It grounded you a bit more than you were just moments before, and you switched the light off and tossed the towel on the counter before making your way back to the bed you shared with Dean.

It was unmade from where the two of you had left it when you woke up that morning, two duffel bags sitting on the carpeted floor unzipped and rifled through from your change of clothes. The mattress bounced when you took a seat on it, boots kicked off and jacket folded over top of your back before you leaned back against the headboard. It was among the nicer motels you’d stayed in as of late, certainly better than the disco themed room you resided in on a hunt in Las Vegas just weeks before, and definitely better than the room with no heat the time before that.

You swiped the remote off the nightstand seated between the two beds, switching the tv on to whatever reality show you could find first. It wasn’t until then that you realized just how much your feet ached, just how sore your back had been. It didn’t help that you’d been thrown against the wall by a rogue spirit—not the first time nor the second time.

It left you feeling like the human equivalent of a punching bag and the tub back at the bunker never felt more enticing than now. The tub that sat miles away just waiting for you to come back home.

There have been worse hunts you’ve been on, ones that you’ve come out of in a lot worse shape than this. Ones that left your cheeks burning with embarrassment over a clumsier mistake than the ones you made a mere hour before. Ones that ended in arguments with Dean, most of which you hadn’t recalled what they were about but a few that you do.

There were worse hunts, but the events that unraveled that day were ones that you couldn’t shake. The built up tension and frustration before that point having been too heavy for you to let it go. You know sitting and stewing on it will do nothing but sour your mood even further, will make it all the more difficult for you to go back out on another hunt with a positive outlook. But you were too tired to do much else other than that very thing.

You weren’t sure how long it’d been that you’d been in your own company, using the time to do nothing but think about the day you wanted so desperately to come to a close. It was a nightmare, one that left you feeling tired and embarrassed.

But what you did know was the sound of two thuds, shortly paired with the jiggle of the doorknob and the whistle of the older Winchester as he stepped into the room. You heard Sam mention something about showering before he disappeared into the bathroom with a change of clothes, promptly closing the door behind him.

“Hey sweetheart,” he greeted, upbeat despite your mood displaying the opposite.

You nod, waving in his general direction as you flip through the channels in search of something else to watch even though you hadn’t really been paying much attention to the tv. You’d been watching the same show for the last who knows how long and you couldn’t even begin to grasp what it was about. It wasn’t long before the light of the lamp had dimmed, Dean standing in front of it as he nudged you lightly.

When you turned your head to look up at him, you spotted a brown paper bag in his hand with a grease stain or two on it. “Here. You look hungry.”

You purse your lips as your gaze went back to him. “Am not.”

“Are too. Your stomach was rumbling louder than my car the whole trip back, sweetheart.”

After a moment of squinted eyes and raised brows in a defeated attempt to prove your point you sighed, taking the bag from him with a small but appreciative smile as he pressed a kiss to your forehead before rounding the bed to sit with you. It was the littlest of things that made moments like this all the more better, softening the blow you felt you’d taken after the day you had. It was the little things Dean did that showed you just how much he cared. He wasn’t one to express his emotions through words as much as he did through actions.

He took his rightful spot next to you, the bed jostling around a bit before stilling once he had gotten comfortable by your side. He snagged the remote from you with a smile, one that grew fonder as he watched you enjoy your food no matter how much you tried to say you didn’t want it. By the very smile on your face, even if it’s small, he knows he’d made you feel better. He’d much rather see a hint of a smile than the frown you were sporting the majority of the day whether you had realized it or not.

The tv was changed to a movie, the title slipping your mind but seemingly it’d been one that wasn’t too bad judging by the way Dean had laughed, tossing the remote down in favor of tugging you closer with an arm around your shoulders and a kiss to your temple.

“You did good out there, you know,” he murmurs, pulling a scoff from you.

“Did not,” you say, stuffing another fry in your mouth.

“I’m serious, you did good today, Y/n.”

“Dean, I nearly face planted at Casper the friendly ghost’s feet today, not to mention that spirit tossed me around like a chew toy. I wouldn’t call that a win,” you grumble, feeling his eyes on you.

It was confirmed when you turned your head to look at him, his gaze on you as his lips pursed in disapproval. That and it was topped off with the raise of his brow, a huff puffing out from his nose. You knew he wouldn’t agree with you, not in a million years, and you didn’t see how he couldn’t. You made a fool of yourself today and if no one knew any better, they would have thought it’d been your first ever hunt of your life.

“Stop that,” he says with furrowed brows.

“Stop what?”

“That thing you always do where you get all wrapped up in that pretty head of yours. Stop that.”

“You mean the thing you always do?”

The crease between his brows deepens and the dimples sitting at the corners of his mouth do the same, his boot nudging your foot. You raise your eyebrow and smile softly, turning away as you finish up your food. You may have won that argument, if you’d even call it that, but he knew he was right. You knew he was right.

He chose to say nothing more on the subject, knowing full well you’d have a counter readily on the tip of your tongue to just about anything he could say about it. Instead, he settled for pulling you closer after you put the wrappers in the bag, putting it on the nightstand. You tucked into his side, the place you wanted to be most after the day you’d had. He was warm and solid and there, he was there and he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Dean Winchester might not have been a man known to show big acts of affection with frequent I love you’s and grand dinners to fancy restaurants, he might not buy you expensive gifts or pretty flowers to show you his love for you. But he didn’t really need to, he never needed to do that. He was your rock, the one you could rely on in anything that bothered you. He was safe.

You weren’t quite sure how much time had passed and you still hadn’t known what exactly was going on in the movie that Dean had put on to watch. You were far too caught up and distracted with the beat of his heart as you lay your head over it, or the way he’d been absentmindedly dragging the tips of his fingers along your shoulder as he watched the tv. At the occasional chuckle rumbling in his chest and jostling you around a bit but you didn’t mind. You were finally comfortable, finally able to relax after tracking down the same spirit for the past two days.

Now it was over and done with, and now you could put it behind you.

“Thanks for thinking of me, De,” you murmur, gesturing to the now empty paper bag.

He laughs softly, lips pressed to your forehead. “I’m always thinkin’ about you.”

You smile then, looking up at him with a certain fondness that never fails to make his heart flip in his chest now matter how much he tells Sam that it doesn’t. It always does when you look at him like that. But for the first time that day you felt better, felt at ease that maybe everything hadn’t gone quite as badly as you’d envisioned it had.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he murmurs, forehead resting against yours.

You bumped his freckled nose with yours, a soft sigh falling past your lips and fanning over his own. But the exasperation you felt had quickly melted into an even softer smile, one he couldn’t see but he knew was there when it pressed into his lips. “I know you do, De.”

He kissed you again, and again, the smile on his lips brushing over yours just like you had done.

“You taste like a burger, sweetheart,” he chuckled, even more so when you swat at his chest.

“Yeah, and you taste like pie,” you counter, shaking your head.

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” he adds, sweet enough to smooth it over with you. He tugged you in again, his lips meeting yours in a kiss even sweeter than the last, his breath warm against your lips as his kiss lingered more than a few moments before he went in for another. “Yeah, totally not a bad thing.”

You laugh softly at his hum, any remaining upset that you felt simmering in you now dissolving at that point and replacing it with something happier.

—

Tags: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @dean-is-sams-apple-pie @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes

[mittensmorgul]

So, Signs that 15x20 isn't real: El Sol beer; warm, saturated lighting; Dean's choice of clothes. Signs the writers were silenced: cut-out-tongue-vampire-thing. Sign it's about sexual repression: Vampires! Sign it's all about the gay: Dean was nailed from behind. Anything else to add to that list of symbols? Because this looks like the writers winking SOS at us in a kidnapper's video.

oh gosh... I keep meaning to rewatch the finale and make a full list of it all, because this is tip of the iceberg stuff. But I just... heck I just don’t want to watch it again :’D

That rewatch is on the agenda, and I’m currently watching 15.09 on the eternal loop. According to the TNT schedule, they’re showing 15.20 on Tuesday, looping directly back to the pilot immediately afterward. So... if I do decide to watch that (and I haven’t decided yet), that’s... gonna be some wild whiplash...

But anyway, back to the question!

You have a pretty good list going there...

I’ll add these things that made the episode feel like not-a-finale:

-no Road So Far segment, or even any sort of “important moments from the last 15 years that brought us to this point” sort of montage/retrospective of their lives

-no Carry On Wayward Son at the beginning, but TWO versions of it back to back at the end

And these things that were just general wtf moments for me:

-Sam? cooking breakfast? since when does Sam make breakfast, ever? that’s Dean’s thing

-Dean, with a dog? since when has Dean ever wanted a dog? That’s Sam’s thing

-Dean makes his bed, and it looks messier when he’s done than before he started (this is... not Dean-like... I actually went back and checked previous shots of his room)

-they never, not once in the episode, act like they have even one (1) single friend or any sort of goal or direction in life, which is weird...

-apparently they’d been unable to find a hunt, making it seem like the supernatural world had been quiet (for a moment I thought maybe monsters were no longer a problem in a post-Chuck world), until they stumbled on a hunt out of nowhere after choosing to go to a pie festival... as if the moment they chose to do something to move on and just have fun, suddenly there was work for them to do and they immediately abandoned everything to hunt these mystery monsters from John’s journal, which turned out to be a trap for them (specifically for them? considering the rando s1 vampire seemed to have lured them there?)

-The fact Dean recognized this vampire he never even interacted with and somehow magically knew her name, despite it never having been stated in canon and, again, Dean never having interacted with her outside of watching her escape with the vampire who actually DID bear them a grudge from 1.20...

-the weird lingering close up shot of the rebar during the fight scene

-the invocation of “destiny” and “don’t have a choice” as they went into a freaking pie festival... this hits bad right now because I’m rewatching 15.09 in the background as I type this, and it was almost word for word what the Dean in Chuck’s vision of the future said to Sam as they resigned themselves to go off on their final hunt (which was vampires btw), which they lost because in the next scene Sam and Dean have become vampires and are both killed... so like... this was Chuck’s story. The trappings might’ve been different, but it was still fundamentally the same... Cas locked away in a terrible place (ma’lak box in Chuck’s story, Empty in Dabb’s), Dean resigned to his fate because of a vampire hunt gone bad.

-then the pie festival itself... Dean’s got a huge tray with half a dozen different varieties he’s excited to try (purchased from Dabb’s Pies...), is eager to taste them all (like... metaphorically trying out different “apple pie life” ending scenarios, because he’s finally free to explore and maybe he actually wants the pecan pie life...), but before he can even taste the first bite, Sam... chooses one and smashes it in Dean’s face.

-even weirder, Dean never once in the episode says Cas’s name, or seemed even once to give a dang about Cas at all... and handwaved it when Sam mentioned Cas and Jack. It had been like... days, on screen (if they’d intended for more time to have passed, they would’ve indicated that on screen, and they did not... they showed us MAYBE three days passing since the events of 15.19). So like... did Dean have a personality transplant or what. Sam says Cas’s name in the ep, Bobby says it in Heaven. Dean... never does. Which is weird, considering how many times he’s said Cas in canon over the years, to the point it’s literally become memes...

-jumping around a bit here, but why Masked Vampires? Why had John failed to figure out they were vampires originally? Because he believed vampires were extinct? because he hadn’t been told they existed at all yet when he’d confronted them in 1986? Was John suddenly just A Bad Hunter after years of canon reinforcing that he was actually a really good hunter?

-and why THIS WEIRD CONGLOMORATION OF JOHN-RELATED CASE NONSENSE? From his journal to the murder clowns to rando vampire from their first vamp hunt? It’s like the perfect storm of erasing the last 15 years just to “bring it back to the start” to end it all like it could’ve had this been s1 still.

-speaking of John, and the El Sol in Heaven... WHY would Bobby hand Dean “John’s Beer” in Heaven? Especially since Dean expressed the fact that he didn’t even like it? Like... why wouldn’t he have been handed a beer he actually ENJOYED in Paradise? Why force a John Beer on him when he could literally have anything he wanted?

-and why was Heaven for Dean, in a place where he could literally have anything he wanted, go anywhere and do anything, why was he just driving through the woods along back roads? After years of talking about how he wanted to go “toes in the sand,” take a vacation, go fishing, or even finally get to eat a piece of pie? Or like ANYTHING he’d talked about wanting to do over the years that he never had a chance to... but apparently the thing he’d arguably spent the most time during his life doing is the only thing he wanted to do now that every possibility was open to him? Yeah, no that’s stupid...

-Tree (the final shot of 15.04 with bobblehead Sam and Dean by the tree like they didn’t have a thought of their own, Chuck’s plastic figurines dancing on his orders, very much like where they randomly parked and had the “vamp mime” conversation)

-Dean casually resorting to the threat of torture after YEARS of the show condemning this choice. Dean gratuitously being “a killer” when his acceptance of the fact that that’s not who he was in the previous episode was literally the thing that defeated Chuck... like... this was entirely stupid...

-just... the pacing of the episode was so weirdly wonky, with random cuts and no sense of time passing anywhere, nor interconnectedness between scenes, and the weirdly uncomfortable interminable death scene. Like, it looked like the death scene of a soap opera heroine. It was upsetting when Dean hit the spike and realized what had happened, but then he just... lingered... dangling on the hook for Sam’s benefit. Like Dean was nothing more than set decoration like a framed portrait for Sam to hang up and walk away from. Which is weird... and stupid... Dabb knows how to do pacing, and it’s like he forgot everything he ever knew about writing to force this “good way to die” trope, as if the previous 15 years of the show hadn’t been spent denouncing (and Dean finally overcoming) this mindset of “I always knew I’d go down swinging” or whatever. WHY. IT WAS STUPID.

-Wig

there’s probably more, but I’m tired and have reached my daily limit for the wtf of this episode >.>

Anyone else, please feel free to add more.

[writingtoforgetreality]

The Moment I Knew (Dean Winchester x Reader)

Request: hi! i LOVE ur writing and i’m not sure if requests are open, but i’ll shoot anyways. Could you do a dean x fem!reader where she gets hurt really bad on a hunt and tries to hide it from dean because she thinks he’ll make fun of her or think she’s weak?(enemies to lovers idea ig) and he finds out because she faints in his arms or something and he’s just like so mad at himself for not noticing and he’s really worried about her during the healing process and she’s confused cause she thought he hated her and AH i’m sorry it’s so specific i’m just in a mood🥺❤️ (by @rxvxr), [Supernatural-Masterlist]

Summary: A seemingly easy werewolf hunt got out of hand & left you injured. In order to avoid Dean getting angry at you, you hid your wound from him. It was not as bad as it looked, right?

Words: 1,975

Warnings: language, a little bit of angst, injury, blood, fluff

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

“You’re not coming on this hunt.” Dean stood his ground. Your frustrated groan showed him that you were not giving up that easily.

“Yeah, I am.” you crossed your arms over your chest. He turned around & walked closer to you. His face was way too close but you would not step back.

“You can’t handle this.” he spat out with venom in his voice.

“I’ll be fine, Dean.”

“You’re annoying, do you know that?” he threw his head back in frustration.

“Likewise.” you joked.

“Dude, let her come with us.” Sam joined your conversation, seemingly done with his older brother. “She’s skilled enough. Besides, three people are better than one.”

“Thank you very much, Sam.” your smile only grew wilder when you saw Dean rolling his eyes. Maybe you had not been in this business as long as they had been. But you knew that you were good enough to tag along on a werewolf hunt. After all, you had learned from the best. Sam, you meant. Of course. Dean? Meh, he was alright. But he hated you so you hated him. It was as easy as that.

The hunt was harder than you thought it would be. Werewolves were not that strong usually. But you kind of did not expect three of them to be there. Which left one monster for each of you. How you ended up with the strongest one of them all? You were not quite sure but that asshole landed a few pretty good hits on you. Blocking out everything around you, you hoped the brothers were luckier than you. Right when you wanted to shoot one of your silver bullets, its claws hit you right at your stomach. You groaned at the sting but you were too shocked to really feel the pain just yet. A look down was enough to realize that you had been hit pretty bad. As far as you could tell, there was a lot of blood coming out of you. An awful lot of blood. But if you stopped focusing now then your cause of death would be a werewolf. You needed to focus. Your vision started blurring slightly. A loud gunshot made you flinch. Eyes widened at the now dead werewolf in front of you. Turning around to check for another possible threat, you were only met with a very pissed off Dean. He did not even acknowledge you. Instinctively, you closed your jacket to avoid his disappointed stare. Your wound was not that bad, you would manage just fine. You could deal with your injury back in the bunker.

“So much for you can handle it, huh?” Dean mocked you. Usually, you always had a comeback. Not right now, it seemed. The adrenaline from the hunt had disappeared completely & the only thing you felt was the burning sensation that was caused by your wound. Dean raised his eyebrows when you stayed quiet.

“Dean, let her be. We didn’t expect three of them.” Sam argued.

“Yeah & we handled them just fine. She could’ve gotten herself hurt.” Dean eyed you up & down, shaking his head shortly.

“But I’m fine, Dean.” your voice was more quiet. Something both brothers were not used to from you.

“Great. Then I won’t feel bad when I tell you that this was incredibly stupid. I told you to not come along but no…No, you said you were skilled enough. Skilled enough? That was worse than what an amateur would do, (Y/N). You wanna get yourself killed or what?” his voice raised & your eyes trained on the ground, too embarrassed to look into his green ones anymore. Not even Sam tried to argue with him. He simply went ahead & left Dean & you standing alone.

“I’m sorry.” it was almost inaudible but he heard you clearly due to the calm night in the woods.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, (Y/N).” he scoffed. You waited a few seconds if he had to say anything else. When you were sure that he was done, you wanted to follow Sam back to the Impala. The first step you took brought you dizziness. The second one made dark spots appear. Dean noticed you wavering & when you did not answer after asking if your were okay, he made his way over to you. Right when he reached you, your body was met with darkness. For a second, Dean panicked. But when he felt one of his hands sticky with whatever liquid, he breathed out a quiet “Fuck”. He opened your jacket & saw the three long & deep gashes adorning your stomach. Wasting no time, he picked you up bridal style & ran over to the Impala where Sam was already waiting. All the while, Dean whispered sweet nothings to you. You did not hear it but he needed to say them. More for himself, really.

“What happened?” Sam was just as shocked as his older brother.

“She did get hurt.” the man carrying you explained. “Come on, Sammy. You drive.” he handed Sam the key & got in the backseat with you. Carefully as to not hurt you any more. Putting more pressure on your wound, he hated himself for lashing out at you like that. He simply did not want you to get hurt. Hence why he suggested you staying behind. Well, it was not really suggesting. It was more like forcing you & then, when you did not agree with him, being mad at you. If only you knew why he was acting that way towards you. Tonight, the one thing he did not want to happen happened. You got hurt. Not because you were not strong enough. Dean knew your abilities were similar to theirs. No, you got hurt because he left you out of his sight. Usually, whenever the three of you went on a hunt together, he made sure to keep you close by. Not that he ever admitted it. Sam had picked up on that & teased him like crazy. You, on the other hand, seemed completely oblivious to it all. After all, you hated him, right? Having to look at you like this, it broke his heart. Mainly because Dean blamed himself. If he paid more attention, he could have avoided all of this. After waking up, you would hate him even more & he would not even blame you. He was the one who yelled at you. But wait a second. Why the hell did you tell him that you were fine, when in reality, you were in pain? Your injury was not really a minor one. He instructed Sam to go faster. The sooner you all made it back to the bunker, the better.

Your entire body was on fire when you opened your eyes. Your attempt to sit up was cut short when you felt pain shooting through you. Wincing audibly, you looked down. Only then did you remember what happened. The werewolf hunt. One of them sliced you open with its claws. Dean yelled at you & then? What happened then? You could not recall it. All you knew was that you were back in your own bed in the bunker. The door opened & your head snapped up. Eyebrows furrowed when Dean entered. You expected Sam but Dean? You thought he was pissed off still. If you were honest, it was kind of your fault. If you had told them that you were hurt right away then you probably would not be in this situation.

“Hey.” he whispered even though there was no need to.

“Hi.” you matched his tone, unsure if you were about to experience another scolding from him. Dean walked over to the bed & sat down, careful not to touch you.

“How are you feeling?” he did not look at you which confused you even more.

“Um…Well, I’ll live.” you chuckled uncomfortably.

“Why didn’t you tell me that one of them hurt you?” his eyes locked onto yours & your mouth opened & closed a few times. What could you possibly tell him?

“Didn’t think it was that bad.” that was what you ended up with. A lie.

“Hmm, I don’t believe you. Why didn’t you say anything?” he repeated. Sighing loudly, you thought you would say the truth. It did not matter anyway.

“I didn’t want you to look at me like I’m weak or pathetic.” you looked down at your hands that fiddled in your lap.

“Why would I do that?” he was confused now.

“Well.” you glanced at him again. “You kinda told me to stay behind & I said I’d be fine. Look where that brought me. And I know you sorta hate me so…” you trailed off.

“I don’t hate you.” he wasted no time with his response. You stared at him questioningly & he knew he had to explain himself. “I don’t hate you, (Y/N). I’ve been an asshole, I know that.” you interrupted him briefly.

“Self-reflective, I see.” you teased playfully.

“What I wanna say…I just don’t wanna see you get hurt. And last night showed me that all of this can be over way too soon. I guess I was scared of losing you.” he admitted, watching you closely for your reaction. You were shocked at his statement.

“It takes a lot more to get rid of me, Dean.” you smiled warmly at him. Usually, you would have teased him but he was so serious in this moment, you did not want to ruin it.

“You’re one of the best hunters I know. It could’ve happened to all of us, this werewolf. Man…” he put his face in one of his hands, then chuckled. “I’m really bad at this feelings crap.” you laughed & shook your head at him.

“You’re getting better.”

The following weeks were different. The way Dean acted towards you was foreign to you. The teasing did not stop but you two shared another thing now. Though you had yet to figure out what exactly that was. Dean went out of his way to care for you which, if you were honest, was because of your wound taking an awful lot of time to fully heal. You spent a lot of days in pain that not even pills could numb. Sam was teasing the two & for the first time, you could actually tell that he was. Apparently, you were way too focused on Dean’s “hatred” towards you that you did not notice the younger brother’s teasing. The atmosphere in the bunker was not as tense anymore. The three of you lived comfortably together. Sometimes, you had to stop & think about your journey with Dean. It was actually the plot of a Disney movie. Two people had hated each other (at least they thought they had) until one of them got hurt & the other was scared of losing them. After that, their relationship changed into something way deeper, way more understanding.

“(Y/N)?” Dean entered the kitchen where you were currently sitting with a cup of coffee in your hand. You hummed for him to continue. “You’re still annoying as shit. You know that, right?” you broke out in laughter, Dean joined in a second later. Motioning for the cup you set up for him, he walked over & sat down next to you.

“Hate to break it to you but I won’t change.” you smirked at him.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.” he pressed a soft kiss on top of your head & threw one of his arms around your shoulders to pull you closer to his body. Your eyes closed in content. This was where you were supposed to be. In Dean’s arms. And it took you both long enough that you could not live without each other. At least you had each other now. Finally.

Published (04/27/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @hollymac79, @spnbaby-67 (thanks for your support <3)

[sarija]

@expectingtofly @starrynightdeancas

Here's my first ever written fanfic as a gift for @expectingtofly who never received her original gift from starrynightdeancas gift exchange. Enjoy 🙂

Words: 3657

Notes at the end of this post!

Home

“So I guess the question is,” Bobby asks, “What're ya gonna do now, Dean?”

Dean looks at baby, considering. He smiles back at Bobby and answers, “Well, I gotta go for a drive.”

 

 

After about ten miles, Dean pulls over. There's a lookout just a few steps from the road, and he follows the trail to the end, feeling overwhelmed by the info Bobby has given him. Cas is here. He helped Jack rebuilding Heaven. He remembers the last time he'd seen Cas. He would have given everything to see him again, to get him back, but all the efforts he and Sam had tried on Earth were useless. Now, there's a good chance he might see Cas again and he has no idea what to say to him.

At this moment, he feels the presence of someone beside him. Anxiously he turns around. For a moment, he hopes to see Cas, but instead, it's Jack and a warm feeling of relief washes over him. He doesn't know if he's ready just yet.

“Jack!” He exclaims, pulling Jack into a tight hug. “It's so good to see you, kid!”

Jack hugs him back, clapping him on the back before freeing himself. “Hey, Dean. It's good to see you too. I'm sorry I couldn't intervene...but I'm glad you are here.” Dean just shakes his head.

“You know, kid, Sam and I had an agreement of going down smashing, and this I did. I … I have no resentments over this.”

Jack offers him a short nod before saying, “Dean, I think there's someone who wants to see you. Are you ready?”

Dean then notices a figure standing way back, beside one of the bushes. He is ready. He has to be. He's been waiting so long to see him again, he can't even believe that he doubted he was ready in the first place. Dean swallows back a big lump in his throat. He walks a few steps. There he is. Just beside a big flowerbed, bees humming around busily, Dean sees him standing in the glow of the setting sun. He lets his eyes wander from the well-known boots upwards, over the hem of this trenchcoat he missed so damn much. The coat is glistening in the sunlight, it looks like it's giving off a light of itself. Over the blue tie, upwards, over the 5-o'clock beard, then those soft lips, further to these warm and blue eyes, deep like the ocean, light as a cloudless sky. And Cas is looking back at him, wondering, tilting his head just a little, the way he always did, back then when they were on Earth. Dean doesn't feel the single tear running down his cheek, he doesn't see Jack looking happily at him, he can only see Cas, standing there in the sun, looking like the most beautiful being he's ever seen in his whole life. Cas, his friend, his family, his angel and most importantly – the love of his life.

He steps forward slowly, afraid that this is just a dream, one of those damned dreams he's had over the weeks after Cas had been gone, had thrown himself into the Empty. In his dreams, Cas was there, waiting for him, but all of a sudden, he'd be gone, swallowed up by a big nothingness, or bursting out in flames and screaming in pain, or saying 'I love you, Dean' but retreating while Dean wanted to get to him, to hug him, to hold him, until his angel was gone and away.

But Cas is still there, smiling now, looking at Dean with his amazingly blue eyes. He lifts his hands and whispers “Dean” and Dean can't keep it any longer. He takes the last steps in a few fast strides and falls into Cas' arms, pulling him into a tight hug and crying silent tears onto his shoulder. Cas starts stroking his hair, softly, hushing and repeating all over “It's okay, Dean” until they both break apart. Dean doesn't want to let go of Cas, he holds his arms, looks at him over and over, but he can't find the words to describe how much this means to him. So he just stands there, breathing heavily, watching him, until he feels Cas' hand upon his cheeks, wiping away the tears on Dean's face. And all of a sudden, Dean knows there's no need to hold anything back anymore, there's no need to hide anything, because there's nothing here to threaten them. Nothing is going to take Cas away ever again.

Dean swallows, clears his throat.

“Cas... I …You ... How?” is all he manages.

Cas shakes his head. “I'll tell you later. We've got all the time in the world now.” He looks at Jack, who is still standing a little way behind them, smiling. “Now, who wants to have some dinner?”

--

They take the Impala to drive to Cas' place. While Dean is driving, he's absurdly aware of Cas sitting beside him in the passenger's  seat. He even feels the intensity of Cas' eyes upon him, until he finally blurts out, “Hey buddy, it's good to see you too but – could you please stop staring at me? I'm not a freak show, y'know?” At that, Jack snorts loudly in the back, clapping Dean on his shoulder. He doesn't say anything else, but Dean knows that he's enjoying this moment as much as he is. He sends a small smile to Jack and Cas, but Cas has turned his face away from him, looking out of the window instead, chin in his hand. For a moment, Dean worries if his words had hurt the angel. This would be the last thing he'd want to do, especially on the first day of meeting him again. He wonders if he should say something, anything, to make sure everything's fine. But what should he say? Tell him he didn't mean it? He never was a man of apologies, and Cas knows that. He just wanted him to look away, cause his staring was so freaking distracting. He wants to return his gaze, he wants to never stop looking into those amazing eyes, eyes that had seen so much, eyes that had looked so worried at times, Dean almost couldn't even bare it. He wants Cas to be happy, to smile, to forget the bad stuff he'd lived through. And now he'd said something that hurt him. Why was it so hard to just take it back? He never knew, cause right at this moment Jack spoke up.

“It's the light blue house over there, Dean. Just drive up to the front, there's a parking spot for you beside Cas' car.”

Dean drives as being told, parking beside a yellow-brown-ish '78 Lincoln Continental. He recognizes it instantly, it's the same car Cas had been using whenever he wanted to get something done on his own, and Cas had always seemed pretty fond of it. It brings back a lot of memories and Dean starts smiling involuntary.

They get out of Dean's car and step up the front porch. Cas takes the lead, opening the white door for them, welcoming both into his home. Dean risks a quick glance at him before entering. Cas doesn't seem to be hurt anymore, he looks pleased and happy. And Dean thinks he understands why.

Dean enters the hallway, looking around and taking in as many details as he can. There is a kitchen to his right, with wooden fronts and very clean. Right ahead there's an arc, decorated with roses in different colours – red, white, yellow, lilac and pale blue. They are rooted in two pink flower pots, one on either side of the arc. To his left are two wooden doors. He guesses that one would probably lead to the bathroom, the other one he's got no idea. They walk through the arc, entering a really big living room, bright and clear. The windows here let the sun warm up the room just enough to feel right, and the light-colored furniture reflects rays of sunshine without blinding them. 'It's perfect', Dean thinks to himself, wondering where Cas got those pictures of them and Sam in the bunker. One of the photos shows them with their hands on one another's shoulders, smiling into the camera. Dean can see his own forced smile, dark circles under wary looking eyes. He takes the photograph of it's shelf, looking at him, Cas and Sam. Sammy. He's looking back at him out of the picture, smiling and waving and looking contend and happy.

“Dean.”

He forces himself to put the photo back on the shelf and turns around to see Cas standing in the doorway.

“You know, he's not a freak show,” Cas mimics, but Dean can see he's worried.

“Thanks, Cas. I know. It's just … I hope he's alright, I hope he's living a good life down there, but -”

“You miss him.” Cas finishes. It's not a question, it's a statement.

“Yeah, man,” is all he can answer. He turns around to wipe at something in his eyes, then turns again and asks, “When will we be eating?”

“In a few minutes. We're waiting for … someone to arrive here, it won't be much longer now.”

Just as Cas finishes his sentence, they hear a soft knock on the door and someone entering the house.

“Who is this?” Dean asks, but Cas is already on his way to the kitchen and Dean just follows.

 

–

 

Dean still can't believe it. He just finished his second helping of T-Bone-Steak, mashed potatoes and fried rice, everything as delicious as he'd hoped for (he'd left out the vegetables). His stomach is full and he leans back really satisfied. This is amazing. He hadn't given a thought to the fact that now that he was in Heaven, he might meet his mom and dad again. Seeing all of them on this table in Cas' dining room – Mary and John, Cas, Jack and Bobby – laughing, eating, smiling, talking about things they did 'down there' and things to do 'up here', it was unbelievable. Dean watches all of them closely. They look so full of joy he can't help grinning like an idiot. His mom is laughing hard from a joke of John and Dean enjoys to see her relaxed and free of worries. His dad claps her on the back, then starts to stroke her gently. He too looks unstressed, there's no trace of the old, haunted John in his face anymore. Even Bobby, though still being his grumpy self, seems pleased.

“Alright, Dean, I think it's time for a little storytime.” Cas watches him intently as he explains, “I think you wanted to know how I could escape The Empty and start my new life here.”

 

--

 

All eyes are upon Cas now. Mary puts the plates away, coming back with two six-packs of beer. She hands everyone a beer and Cas starts talking.

“As most of you know, I went with The Empty willingly, keeping my side of the deal we had made way back. Several months ago, there was a problem at hand. The Empty wanted to keep Jack. I told her to take me instead of him and she agreed to that but wanted to be sure to crush me. So she told me that she wouldn't just swap - she'd come and get me as soon as I would be truly happy. And that she did. When we talked, Dean, I had made a choice”. At this, Cas sends him the slightest smile, which makes Dean want to forgive him in an instant. “Well, as you know, this choice led to me being taken by that bitch. For a while, I lay there in nothingness, black nothing all around me, and I hoped to fall asleep, which I knew was sure to happen to everyone The Empty had swallowed. But not me. She wouldn't let me sleep because I had been an inconvenience to her. She wouldn't visit me either. I lay there until I couldn't lie anymore, I sat there for hours and hours, and finally, I stood up. There was no way to give up this easy, The Empty couldn't be invincible, right?” They all nod, fascinated by his story. Jack even has his eyes closed. Another big gulp of beer, then Cas goes on. “So I wandered around, screaming and trying to punch the Nothingness. I called her a lot of stuff just to get her attention, but it was useless. In the end, I stumbled and fell on my knees and was none-the-wiser. But that was the moment I realized it. There was nothing to be done for me alone. But there was someone who had already conquered The Empty, who had woken me up last time, who would maybe be able to do something about my situation. And even though I didn't want to involve him, I saw no other choice. So I prayed. And I was answered.”

“But I prayed too, why did I never get an answer?” Dean sputters out. Instantly, he feels the heat of shame crawling up his neck, but he still locks eyes with Jack, who has finally opened them.

“I heard you, Dean. And I am very sorry. I knew this would disappoint you, but there was no way for me to interfere down there anymore. I couldn't answer, because I couldn't bear to tell you. I am sorry.” Dean swallows hard, then Jack continues, “Then I heard Castiel. And I realized that I wasn't about to interfere down there – but The Empty was not down there, and there were several changes to be made, changes that were overdue.

I gathered up all the strength I could master. I summoned those around me who were willing to help. Gabriel was the first to respond. It might not surprise you that he had taken advantage of everyone assuming him dead, submerging into the benefits of a random gambler's life outside the radar. Yet when I called out to ask the help of every angel available, he immediately came to my side to be of assistance.

Michael was second to answer my call. He asked a lot of questions, wondering if he could trust me. He was hardest to convince – but wanted The Empty gone as much as I did. So he stayed and helped.

Most of the other living angels came to stand with us, but we still weren't enough. So I started to wake up the deceased. This was rather dangerous, as I didn't want The Empty to know something was up too soon. But Cas here did a great job – when I had awoken an angel, he'd find him and explain the matter, trying to be as quiet as possible.  Once we had gathered quite a number of angels, they took their positions, waiting for my command. First step was to lure The Empty out of her hiding place. Hannah, Anna, Gadreel and Joshua did a great job with that! They annoyed her one after the other, to the point she wanted to throw them all out. Next step was to surround and distract her. So everyone did their best to get her attention, circling her in further. Then the tricky part started. While the inside angels surrounded her, kept her encircled and disturbed, enraging her further to keep her at that spot, we on the outside started to open up a crack, getting others out of there. Gabriel took an essential part here, building up an illusion to cover our crack. As soon as we had Jane and Raphael, I knew it was time to finish it, because the inside angels were taking hit after hit.

With the help of Michael, Gabriel, Raphael and Jane, I managed to take hold of The Empty. Like Chuck did with Amara, we cast her out, chaining her up in the same lonely dimension Amara had once been held in. Michael sacrificed his powers to bear the new Mark that still was needed to have her caged.”

Jack pauses for a moment, takes a sip from his beer and watches the others. Mary and John are holding hands on the table, switching short glances now and then. Bobby looks like he's fallen asleep already, beer still clutched in his hand. Castiel seems to be entranced by Jack's story, elbows on the table, chin resting on his folded hands. A small smile playes on his lips and Dean notices how beautiful Cas' face looks when being relaxed. He doesn't know if he's even allowed to think this way, but he can't help it. He tries to focus on the story again.

“So, you cast her out. I guess the angels on the inside got out – seeing as Cas is here. But what about the other creatures this thing had held for an eternity?”

“Yes, that.” Jack answered, nodding. “I assumed it would be no good to send them all with The Empty. Instead, Jane and me enlarged the Purgatory, sent every monstrous creature down there and asked Rowena to magnify the intensity of their 'door'. In return she'd get the demon souls sent to Hell, and she willingly agreed to that.”

“Great.” Dean states, “more demons for her, no big deal.”

“Dean,” Cas whispers, obviously annoyed by this interruption.

“I don't like the idea of giving her more power, alright? It's no good. Rowena will use this somehow to do something bad, you know her, Cas!”

“Yes, Dean, I do know her. That's why Jack is keeping an eye on things. I thought you'd be happy to know that we all are safe now. I thought you'd be happy to see … me.”

All eyes are on Dean now, which makes him shift in his seat, feeling pretty uncomfortable.

“Man, you know I'm happy about … this all. I'm just wondering what this means for those left on Earth.”

“You mean Sam.”

Dean nods, not sure if he's able to answer right now.

Jack jumps in. “Don't worry, Dean. He's safe. I am sure of it – I can see it. Please believe me that no harm will come upon him as long as I'm here.”

This really does reassure him and he takes a big swig of his beer. He nods, satisfied for now. Then another thought comes to him.

“What about the angels you saved from The Empty? What exactly happened to them?”

“Oh, that's easy. Every deceased angel got a second chance. I made sure their loyalties were with me, then I sent them to work. There's a lot to do up here, and most angels are glad to be able to help. Michael is an exception though. As I said, he's had to sacrifice his powers to bear the new Mark, so he's powerless now. He's in hiding ...” Jake grins, “but I think … he'll bee alright.

With The Empty being gone, there were new rules to administer. Every monstrous creature – minus the demons - that dies from now on will find himself in purgatory. Demons that die will find themselves in Hell, but powerless. Rowena told me she's got some 'lovely tasks' for them. And every angel that meets his end will come back up here, being powerless but having a place to call home.”

Home. Dean looks around, taking in this wonderful place that Cas can now call his home. He loves this idea, and he feels quiet content with knowing all this.

After this, they switch the topic to easier stuff. Their conversation is light now, mostly about stuff to do in Mary's and John's house, like fixing a little hole in their roof, or repainting their furniture. John even asks if Dean would help him restore a '64 Ford Falcon and Dean eagerly agrees to be there tomorrow. But after a while of talking about the ups and downs of this special car, Mary stifles a wide yawn and John laughs. “It's time I guess! Thank you for this wonderful dinner and a great evening guys. Guess we'll see each other next week?”

“Same time, same place,” Cas answers grinning. “See you tomorrow, Dean,” John says and pulls him into a tight hug. Mary ruffles through his hair before hugging him, then she too says good-bye. Jack wakes up Bobby, half-pulling him out of his chair and tells him that it's time to get home. Bobby grunts, gives Dean a nod, and walks out the front door without another word, probably too tired to speak. Last to say goodnight is Jack, and he pulls both Dean and Cas into a big hug. They clap his back, and Dean thinks he can hear Cas whisper 'I'm proud of you' into Jack's ear. They all say good-night, then Jack is gone too. Closing the door behind Jack, Cas turns around to Dean, watches him closely, a slight pink shade on his cheeks.

“There's a guest room down the hall if you want to...” he leaves his sentence unfinished, but Dean understands.

He looks Cas in the eyes, feeling his heart suddenly hammering against his chest. There were words he wanted to say, but he doesn't remember. He's surprised – all those years down there, he had to hold everything back, and he has no fucking idea how he did that. Cas' eyes are still watching him, asking silent questions. Throwing cautions in the wind, Dean finally closes the distance and pulls Cas into a gentle kiss, hands on his cheeks. After a moment of surprise, Cas kisses him back, his lips soft and warm, and lays his hands around Deans waist. Their kiss seems to take an eternity, Dean has no feeling of time anymore, he just feels Cas' lips on his, and he knows that this is his happy place. His peace. His... he allows himself to think the word – his home.

Notes:

This fic is a gift for @expectingtofly on tumblr as part of the starrynightdeancas gift exchange. It's my first-ever written fanfic and I'd love to know what you think about it! I had a lot of fun writing this, creating my own kind of fix-it fiction. Also, I tried to stay canonical – with one exception, because I will never accept that the trickster was truly finished off!

Please note that I’m not a native speaker and there might be some spelling and grammar mistakes. I’m sorry! But I hope you’ll enjoy it nonetheless.

Have fun reading and leave a comment if you like <3

Not yet posted on AO3, still waiting for my invitation. I’ll have you updated as soon as I can post it there!

[poptod]

The Old Gods

Description: Jack has to get close to a powerful suspect. Jack also ponders upon his humanity.

Notes: genuinely didnt meant for this to get so long, my apologies, i just like writing conversations bc i never get to have them.  also! I hate myself so much for writing supernatural fanfiction in the good year of our lord 2021. its not my fault, it was the only show i could watch with my cousin that we both liked. anyway! lmk if you like it i could do a part two WC: 11k

+

The nearest library could hardly be called a library. A more accurate description would be a collection of books––a small collection––that could be read freely but never taken from the library itself. There was little need within the Winchesters to visit the library, considering they had one in their home filled with mythical lore, but the records of Kansas and neighboring cities and states were detailed thoroughly in the nearest library.

Jack knew a great many things; inherent natures and laws of the universe, the experience of power and of fear, both before him and within him. Many things he'd seen deserved to be feared, exposing him to dangers often unheard of amongst regular children.

Three months into existence, however, Jack liked to think he knew more than he did when he was born. This was because he'd spoken to more people, experienced more things, and learned select things about his mother, his father, his family, and strangers. Still, there were things that puzzled him––the age of the world was clear in his mind (4.543 billion years, four months, 22 days, 6 hours, and 52 seconds) but how humanity progressed into what they now were astounded him.

"Humans started as... these creatures with unending curiosity," Castiel explained to him, his hands folded neat in his lap but hidden by his too-long trenchcoat sleeves. "Ceaseless innovation. They started without language but they always had kindness. I think.. that's why God favored them, at least at first."

"So... kindness is a form of.. intelligence?" Jack asked slowly, his brow furrowed tight as he stared past his father.

"I believe so," he said, shifting in his seat. "Kindness drove these animals to building homes, to conversing with one another, to creating a better world for descendants they would never know. It's quite beautiful, actually."

"Am I a part of that story?"

Only half-human, only half-alive, only half the story, belonging to nothing concrete. Jack wasn't really human, leaving him alone in his species.

"Yes," Castiel said without hesitation.

Civilization first started off in a number of areas. The first book Jack found dealt with the fertile crescent northeast of Africa, where Mesopotamia brought forth a number of societies, of cultures, meshed together over the course of thousands of years. Sumerians were one of the first to build their cities, creating writing, the wheel, and the plow in their haven apart from the unpredictable and often violent wild.

But no––the next book Jack found stated that Jericho was the oldest city, west to the fertile crescent near the shore of the Mediterranean and the Dead Sea. The citystate was independent from any other power, often becoming abandoned from raids only to return to high populations, as humans flocked back to the spring water that still poured from inside the earth to this day.

Over the rest of the day spent in the nearest library, Jack learned there was no single spot in which civilization was created and then spread from. The Nile in Africa brought forth Egypt, the Indus river in Pakistan birthed the Harappan civilization, and the two rivers Yellow and Yangtze in China created the first asian cities. From there villages, towns, and cities spread like mold across the earth's surface, eventually bringing humans to inhabit every continent and nearly every environment known on earth.

There were far too many things to know, and the strain of reading on his eyes eventually forced him to retire for the day. He hardly understood anything yet, but the librarian was understanding as to his prolonged stay, and wished him a good evening when he left. He beamed a bright smile despite the strange pain growing behind his eyes, and waved good-bye.

Dean gave him painkillers when he got back to the bunker after Jack thoroughly (and unnecessarily) described his headache.

"Humans are... strange," Jack said, his brow furrowed in deep thought. He rested his elbows on the table, leaning over an empty bowl of cereal.

"Not wrong, but, care to elaborate?" asked Sam, who was sitting across from him at the kitchen table, a newspaper and pen in his hand.

"Castiel said you created the first cities out of a desire to.. to protect each other, and to keep yourselves safe. And then the first thing you do when you meet other cities is to go to war with them."

Sam sucked in a sharp breath, leaning back as he set the newspaper aside. This would take a little more concentration than a passing ear.

"People are scared by things they don't know," Sam began only to be cut off.

"Why?"

"They don't know if it's dangerous. You didn't trust us, at first, either. We didn't know whether to trust you. Remember?"

"Oh," Jack said softly.

"Yeah. But you're right," he said with a long sigh. "It's strange. We're... strange."

"Are humans inherently good?"

"I don't think anyone is inherently good," Sam said, and Jack straightened his posture, suddenly confused by his claim. "Every person – every thing, every living thing has – has the capacity for good and evil. It's really just up to the individual to decide which side they want to give into."

"Am I a good person?"

"First off, you're not really a person," said another voice from the doorway.

Sam and Jack both turned at the same time, meeting the eye of Dean, who had yet to change out of his bathrobe despite it being 2PM.

"Second off, you haven't been alive long enough to be a good person," he continued as he entered, an empty coffee cup in hand.

"Dean –" Sam began, only to be cut off.

"What? It's the truth."

The coffee machine buzzed loudly once Dean pushed a few of the buttons, setting his cup beneath the nozzle. He muttered something to himself before turning back to the kitchen table.

"Anything strange in the paper?" He asked, leaning against the counter.

"Maybe," said Sam.

He grabbed the paper again, delving into the details of a nearby missing persons case that soon faded out of Jack's state of mind. His thoughts were still absorbed in his existence, in his beginnings, and how they compared to the beginnings of humans. At least with angels he knew everything; that was how angels were born. Knowing everything.

Jack remained seated at the table when Sam and Dean left, still stewing in his thoughts that he imagined would never go away. It was half an hour later when the two brothers returned, this time fully dressed, and packed up on their way to the car.

"We've gotta go find some local records," Dean said.

"So we're headed to the library," Sam finished, and the two gave each other odd glances at the coincidental synchronicity.

"I was there a couple days ago," Jack said, suddenly perking up. "Can I come with you?"

"Sure, just don't get in the way," Dean said with a dismissive hand, already leaving the doorway.

Sam pursed his lips, letting out a bitter, almost apologetic chuckle before he followed.

He liked the middle seat. It didn't have a seatbelt, but he wasn't sure what seatbelts were for anyways, and the middle seat allowed him easy access to see both of the Winchesters. Dean never spared a glance in his direction while he drove, but Sam offered awkward, curt smiles.

Technically Jack could just fly to the library in an instant, but the drive into town was pretty, lined with the colors of autumn. Recently winds had taken up a more brisk edge, marking the absence of birds that flew in packs overhead. He scooted to one of the window seats, craning his neck awkwardly to look up and out of the glass, grinning at the ravens flying through the orange and gold trees.

The librarian showed the three men where the records were kept, directing them towards missing persons cases when they requested it. While Sam and Dean thumbed through the records, Jack returned to ancient history books, studying art and images from Vedic India.

There, amongst the carvings printed on soft paper, he found something rather odd. He stood from his position on the floor, still staring intensely at the print as he walked over to the table Sam and Dean sat at.

"Hey Jack," Sam said as he sat down, gently placing the book on the table. He scanned Jack's hunched posture before he asked, "something up?"

"I found something... strange," he said, his brow still knotted neatly above curious eyes.

"Yeah well, join the club, kid," Dean said with a groan, wiping his face with his hand.

Jack opened his mouth to ask what they'd seen, but Sam answered before he could speak.

"There's been repeated attacks, kind of," he said, waving his hand vaguely. "Once every ten years a couple of kids go missing. Always two kids, always on the same day of the year."

"And another anomaly," Dean said, reaching over to a stack of papers and slapping them on the table in front of Jack.

Big, black words displayed the newspaper title, and below it, the date of publishing. January 4th, 1967. The main article dealt with a concert happening in a nearby city, and the image printed with it displayed a number of concert-goers, most of them in their teens or early adulthood. Hidden behind several other people, a familiar face appeared––the librarian. Unhindered by time.

"Is that..."

"Big boots over there?" Dean asked, pointing with his thumb in your general direction.

You were sorting through a stack of books, but as Jack looked down, he found you were wearing rather large boots. The ends of your pants drowned in them.

"Do you think they're related?" Jack asked as he turned back to the Winchesters.

"Possibly," Sam said with a nod. "Bit early to tell. But, uh..."

Sam trailed off as his eyes focused on something past Jack's shoulder. He, as well as Dean, turned to meet your eyes that quickly darted away once all three of them were looking at you.

"I think I have an idea," Sam said.

Dean and Jack curiously tilted their heads to the side at the same time, though when Dean noticed that, he fixed himself immediately.

"I think they have a thing for you," he said in a much quieter voice.

"Me?" Jack asked, pushing his finger into his chest.

"Yeah. You could get a little closer and see if something's up."

"Are you seriously setting up Jack with a fuckin' demon, for all we know?" Dean asked flatly, earning an odd look from Sam, who had never heard Dean protest putting Jack in danger.

"Dean, Jack's dad is a demon-angel thing. I don't think it's a big deal," he said.

That seemed to shut the older Winchester up.

"Hm," Jack hummed as he debated the idea. "I also found something strange."

"Oh, right," Sam said, clearing his head with a shake. "What was it?"

"It was also... the librarian," he said with a deep frown. "In one of the books."

He pushed forward the textbook, opening it to reveal the page in which he'd found your face. The stone expression was remarkably similar to your traits, from the curve of your nose to the positioning of your eyes, and the small, polite smile on your lips.

"I found it in the history section," Jack explained. "It says it's from Vedic India."

A quick Google-search later, Sam was reading out the age of Vedic India.

"According to this it says the Vedic age was approximately around 1500 to 800 B.C., so... about 2,500 years ago."

"Wow, this fucker's old," Dean snorted.

Sam shot him a look over the top of his computer screen.

Having found the information they were looking for, the Winchesters began to pack up their belongings and their scribbled notes, shoving them into their bags or into their many-pocketed coats. Jack, on the other hand, prepared himself for talking to you, hoping his ineptness towards social situations with humans wouldn't be too obvious. He swallowed through the knot in his throat, taking a shaking breath in an attempt to steady himself.

It didn't work.

"Dean, what am I supposed to say to them?" He whispered when they were already approaching the front desk, his palms growing sweaty.

"I don't know, their job or something? Something normal," he very unhelpfully advised.

"Thanks for letting us stay for the day," Sam said with a polite smile, handing back one of the printed out records you'd fetched for them from beneath your desk.

"Not a problem. You keep quiet. I like that in a reader," you said, smiling back as you glanced between the three of them.

None of them moved, and your expression turned to mild confusion. Dean had to jab Jack in the side to get him to speak. He opened his mouth to protest, but Dean motioned something to Sam, and the two of them quickly left for the car, leaving Jack alone while they 'situated' themselves.

"I, um..." Jack started before he was ready.

The silence felt wrong, but the silence after saying something was much, much worse. Whatever came into his mind first would have to be what he said.

"I like your job," he said, keenly scanning your expression for any hint of your thoughts.

You paused, clearly taken back for a moment, before you broke out into a chuckle, looking down to your hands as your face flushed.

"I like it quite a lot, too," you said with a grin, looking back up at him. "I've always been interested in becoming a librarian. Granted, I didn't quite imagine it in Kansas, but it is pretty here."

"Where did you imagine it?"

"Greece, actually," you chuckled, and he smiled as well, his heart thumping with a sudden haste. "I was heartbroken to hear the Library of Alexandria was burned down."

"The Library of Alexandria?" He repeated, tilting his head to the side again.

"Haven't heard of it?" You asked.

He shook his head gingerly. Was he supposed to?

No matter––you explained in full what the Library of Alexandria was, when it was created, when it was burnt, and the loss it caused amongst human society. He listened intently, frequently asking questions you were happy to answer. When Jack glanced out the library window, he found the impala gone, and realized Sam's plan had, in a way, worked.

"Are there.. any books about the library?" He asked once you completed your short story.

"Yes, but I don't want to hold you folks up –"

It was then you looked out the window as well, finding the two large men had abandoned the smaller.

"Oh where'd they go?" You said in a curious, high voice.

"Don't worry about that, I... have a bus," he said, earning a strange look. "I am... I ride buses."

A beat of silence passed.

"So the Library was in Greece?" He asked, and your earlier mood returned.

You brought him––with much excitement––to one of the rows in the library filled with simple textbooks for primary school kids. Other rows of your well-tended library were occupied by old books, their bindings worn and frayed at the edges from continuous use. Pages were turned yellow and were soft beneath his fingers, but despite their age they were rather hard for Jack to read and understand, meaning his discovery of children's comprehensible textbooks was a giddy one.

Jack wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to be looking for when it came to you. What counted as suspicious? You continued to speak with him even after the sun set behind mountains, that could be a sign you were trying to gather information on him, as well. That could also mean you liked him. Was your friendliness suspect?

"- and the Phoenicians were really only called that by the Grecians. The name came from the purple dye that they're famous for, some root word for 'purple people' in Greek is Phoenicia," you explained, moving your hands expressively despite the fact that Jack's eyes were set dead on the textbook on the floor in front of you. Paragraphs of words surrounded modern depictions of ancient people and their art.

"So what was their actual name?" He asked as he looked up to you.

"Canaanites. From the land of Canaan."

"... you know a lot," he said, looking back to the page as you chuckled.

"It's just memory," you said with a shrug.

"Can I... can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Do you know anything about mythical creatures?"

Surely this would reveal something, Jack thought––you might react poorly, in which case you could be the monster, or you might react in complete knowledge, which... could also mean you were the monster.

"A little," you said slowly. "Why do you ask?"

"I have an interest, in myths and monsters," he said, almost smiling again.

"Oh man, I have a show you're going to love."

Far in the back of the library, a hollow, steel door led to a small break room, the carpet inside being a dark, scratchy grey against his palms when he sat down. There were no chairs in the room, but an old TV sat on a cheap cart plugged into the nearest, bare wall. On the opposite side of the TV was a dull blue counter that stretched from the door to a window covered by plastic shingle curtains.

You snatched the remote off the counter, pressing a large, red button that had the television buzzing to life loudly. The screen sparked, static radiating around it as a thin line of white brought life to a Netflix loading screen.

After several minutes of waiting for Netflix to load and then typing a title into the search bar, a show called Myths and Monsters was before him. He let out a laugh as he realized what had sparked the connection––he'd literally spoken the title.

Would an ancient being or monster know how to work a TV?

Castiel could work a TV.

Kind of.

The first episode began to play and you took a seat beside Jack, crossing your legs neatly beneath you. A few minutes in, rain pattered lightly on the roof, followed by sudden winds that battered the now pouring rain against the window. Jack watched through the side of his eye as you smiled at the change in weather.

That was suspicious.

Late in the evening, when night darkened the land and heavy thunderclouds darkened the sky, he left the library. He stood in the threshold between the warm light on your desk in the otherwise dark room, and the falling rain outside. Yellow-orange streetlamps illuminated the sheets of rain and the nearby bus stop, but you still stopped him, holding the door open as you both stood motionless in front of one another.

"I have a car, I can drive you home," you offered, gesturing over your shoulder to a door in the back that led to a private parking lot behind the library. "I'm not sure if the bus runs this late."

Extended time with you would be good, and he imagined your face illuminated by dim dashboard car lights would be better than good––great. Beautiful. You had wonderfully warm features. But you couldn't know where he lived for a number of reasons; if you were the monster, that was giving away a hiding place, and if you weren't, you would wonder why he lived in such a strange place.

"Thank you, but it's alright," he said. "I like the rain."

A small smile stretched across your plush lips.

"So do I," you said, and the two of you bid good-bye, retreating into your respective dark.

He gave a thorough rundown of the events proceeding after Sam and Dean left, and the three of them––Sam, Dean, and Castiel––listened closely. Dean already filled Castiel in on the rest of the case, and the two brothers were eating at the long table in the bunker's library.

They stared at him in silence when he finished.

"Sounds like a regular kid," Sam finally said.

"Ah don't be so sure about that," Dean said, raising a single brow. "What did you say the monster probably was?"

"A – a fae, or something," he said.

"Fae's good at lying," Dean pointed out, earning a reluctant nod from Castiel.

"He's right. Fairies are remarkably good at acting," he said in his low, grating voice.

"So... what next?" Jack asked.

"We'll keep looking into the case more, and you can probably ask the librarian out on a date," Sam suggested, earning an agreeing remark from Dean. "You can keep them distracted while we search their house."

"Do we know where they live yet?" asked Dean.

"No, but it shouldn't be too hard to find out," Sam said.

Jack watched the brothers for a moment, his mind emptying of answers as to what a 'date' was.

"What's a date?"

"Oh Christ," Dean muttered, moving immediately to his feet and leaving the room.

Sam let out an exasperated sigh at his brother, turning to Jack to explain what a date was, what were appropriate date activities, and how he should act when asking you out and when being out with you.

"Okay," Jack said with a nod despite not really understanding. "What are dates for?"

"They're between people who are interested in.. getting to know each other," Castiel said as he took a seat beside Sam across from Jack.

"So... like when Dean and I went driving."

"No. Not like that," Sam quickly said. "Not like that at all. If – if a guy is interested in a girl, like interested in having her be his girlfriend, then he might ask her out on a date. It's a romantic thing."

"The librarian does seem to be interested in you, from what I’ve heard," Castiel said with a pointed look in Jack's direction.

"I think you've got a shot," Sam agreed, nodding.

Jack thought for a moment before he said, "okay."

A few days later––Dean insisted he only try a few days later, saying anything less was damaging his honor––Jack returned to the library, lighting up when he found you were still working at the small front desk, your nose buried in a large box full of papers. Large, round glasses were hanging off the tip of your nose, and you pushed them up to your eyes when they slipped further off.

The door clicked softly shut behind him when he entered, scanning the room as if there was another reason he was there. You watched him the whole time, continuing to when he approached you, something obviously on his mind.

"I was wondering..." he trailed off, losing himself in your bright, expectant eyes. When he realized he'd fallen silent, he added the first thing that came to mind––a lie. "... if you could show me where the... books are."

You chuckled before you said, "which ones?"

"Maps," he said, smiling as he came up with something actually substantial.

Of course, it wasn't asking you out, but at least it was talking to you. He would have to do that later, though he supposed he'd have to do it that day or he would be disappointing the Winchesters and Castiel when he came back to the bunker without even trying to complete their orders.

"We don't really have a maps section, but I might be able to help you if you tell me the time and place you're looking for," you suggested for him, and he nodded slowly.

"Yes. Please."

"So what are you looking for?"

"Oh. Right, uh.. Greece and Mediterranean," he said, repeating subjects from the last time you'd spoken.

"Mediterranean sea?"

He nodded.

"What year?" You asked.

"Uh..." he drew another blank, "two... hundred."

You seemed reluctant to ask the next question, but it was necessary; "before christ or after?"

"... before."

"Alright," you said with a soft snicker, moving around your crowded desk area and towards the bookcases.

Your stride slowed as you approached a certain shelf, shifting up onto the tips of your toes to reach the highest books. Jack thought of offering his help, but he wasn't much taller than you––if at all––and he didn't know which books to get down.

Four thick books ended up in your arms, and you heaved them over to the nearest table, letting them thump down heavily. You spread them out, flipping rapidly through the pages till you found the proper maps you seemed to have memorized within each of the books.

"This one's about 900 BC to 200 AD, so it's got a bit wider of a range. Includes the bigger cities. This one is.. 1500 BC to 300 BC, so a little bit within range, has a lot more cities," you said, moving from one textbook to the next while Jack stared at you, enamored by your plush lips.

He barely even noticed that you finished your explanations, nor your quick words mentioning you should probably return to your studies and leave him to it. But he reached out on instinct, grabbing your wrist and tugging gently, convincing you to turn back to him. Your eyes, still bright, retained that same patient expectancy as his previous evening with you.

"I... could you talk to me?" He asked, oblivious to the implications read clearly by you.

"About what?" You asked in return as you stepped subtly closer.

"About fairies."

You paused, your eyes widening slightly.

"The ones from Celtic folklore or... like modern media fairies?" You asked slowly, slinking down into a seat you situated to face him.

He did the same, his feet planted firmly on the floor as he watched you, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Just... the oldest versions of fairies."

You nodded, again slowly as you pursed your lips.

"Well the oldest mentions of them in literature actually comes from ancient Greece, from the Iliad, by Homer," you began, immediately using your hands expressively as you spoke. "Those weren't Celtic fairies, though. Greeks considered creatures like satyrs and such to be fairies, as well, so... generally fairies and the fae as we think of them now came from Ireland and Scotland."

"Where are they?" He asked with a head tilt.

You stuttered for a second, your eyes flying across the room until you stood, returning to the shelves. He watched with much humor as you read the book titles at a frightening pace, fingers flipping over the bindings till you pulled one down.

"Here, world map," you said, and though he didn't notice, you didn't comment on the oddity of not knowing where Scotland and Ireland were. Almost everyone knew where those two countries were; or, at least, the general area.

"In Ireland fairies are seen as simply... mythical people. Great warriors and poets, or witches, they're all considered part of the fae in Celtic culture. In Scotland, though, fairies are more dangerous, essentially being creatures that feed off humans in one way or another," you continued. "Like... banshees, those are Scottish, and jack o' lanterns."

"Jack o' lanterns?"

He'd heard of banshees before; they were mentioned a few times by the Winchester brothers.

"Not like the Halloween pumpkins," you said, but when you were met with further confusion, you slowly said, "...and you don't know what those are either, do you?"

He shook his head reluctantly.

You spent the next two, whole hours talking to him, going over any question he had no matter how much you thought he should've known the answer to begin with. Jack relaxed into that feeling, into that ease, while suspicion grew in your own mind. There was no one of his age and stature that didn't know the questions he posed. Still, you found yourself unable to pin any such wariness of manipulation onto such a polite boy.

Engrossed fully in whatever you had to say and rarely speaking himself, Jack absorbed a number of facts about the fae. About their trickery and mischief, about their magic, how different species had different thoughts on humanity. Considering the lengths you knew about other subjects, none of what you told him occurred to him as suspicious. You seemed, again, to be a dedicated––but human––scholar.

When at last he exhausted his questions, both on and off topic, he began a build-up of courage. Asking someone out for a case should've been much easier than this, or at least that's what he thought. Dean mentioned he'd done similar things for other such cases.

Jack's face scrunched up in deep thought despite the silence between you.

"Are you alright, Jack?" You asked.

"Oh. I'm... fine," he said, nodding his head in a way that didn't convince you all that well. "I – I wanted to ask you something."

You nodded, gently helping him along.

"I know we don't know each other that well, but... you.. interest me, and.." he trailed off once more. It was difficult to tell a lie that was technically the truth. "I was wondering if you wanted to go with me. On a date."

He expected a number of things from you––perhaps anger, perhaps embarrassment, perhaps shock, but you just chuckled, leaning back in your chair. His brow furrowed at your odd reaction. Were you laughing at him?

"Was that what you wanted to ask me when you first came in?" You said through your giggles, your soft skin glowing in the warm, early evening light.

"... yes," he said, huffing out his own chuckle as his eyes fell to the floor. "I'm sorry."

"There's no need to apologize," you said with a grin. “You’re the one who had to listen to me ramble.”

"So.. will you..?"

"Yeah," you chuckled, nodding. "I enjoy your company as well."

A smile made a permanent home on Jack's face as he returned to the bunker, his official mission having been successfully completed, and his hands still burning with the touch you left as he walked out the door. While most of the town smelled like baking pies and cinnamon cider, the bunker carried no such warmth, and smelled more like rotting leaves than anything else, though Sam lit a couple apple candles in his room. The scent filled part of a long hallway.

He found his fathers all sitting on a single couch, facing a television that had some sort of film playing on it through the static. Jack silently stepped round the nearest chair, taking a seat beside them, and watching on intently. A soft, high note hummed from the speakers.

Red, ratted curtains pulled way for sunlight streaming through dust-filled air. The wooden windowsill had a vase in which a single, molted flower sat, most of its petals having fallen off long ago. But that wasn't where the camera stopped; it halted above the image of two women tangled in sheets similarly worn down as the curtains were, requiring many patches over large holes. One had their face pressed to the other's neck, her nose nudging a sharp jawline owned by still sleeping eyes. Their limbs were knotted tight together, chest to chest, and a quiet, sleepy melody humming out of the smaller's pale lips.

Jack frowned. He'd never seen two people so physically close together. The nearest thing he'd seen was Dean and Castiel hugging, and even that was reserved in a way. This was pure trust––pure peace, and he found himself wondering if it was entirely fictional, or if such happiness could really exist in the world that at times felt poisoned.

Maybe it did exist if you found a way to smile that brightly.

He earned a whole other course of schooling once he announced their plan was successful. Dean clapped him proudly on the back, shooting a dirty grin that Sam countered with clean praise. Even Castiel seemed to be proud. Jack beamed at that, his heartbeat now pounding at the thought of three days from now; when he had planned the date.

In the meantime, the brothers stayed up for most of the night, though they looked much worse for wear that morning than Jack after he stayed up with them. Researching faes was actually a little easier than a lot of other monsters––there were many articles about them, and a deeply-engrained fear of changeling children had led to thorough documentation on the fae realm and its inhabitants. Jack was still a little slow at typing, so Sam captained the computer research, while Jack sped through the books in the bunker's library. Dean looked through articles and stories in newspapers searching for any hint of where they children might be kept if they weren't immediately killed.

The more he read about fairies, about their habits, their composure, and their lies, the less he could picture you as one. Originally a fairy brought to mind someone beautiful and fair, or someone like you, with dazzling eyes that could stop an archangel in their step. But the sharp teeth and wicked, wirey hair didn't sound at all like you. He'd felt your hands––once brushing over his––and there were no claws or stinging sensations that lingered in your touch. Still, the Winchesters probably knew better than him, and he pushed the feeling aside.

In the next evening, after Dean took a long day nap, Sam and Dean set to packing up their tools and tricks once more, tossing them into the back of the impala with the rest of the permanent fixtures. Jack watched as they did this, his hair still neat and clean despite not sleeping or washing up for two days.

"Can I come with?" He asked in the politest voice he could manage.

They were headed off to the library under the cover of night. After hearing about several back rooms Jack noticed during his time there, a reasonable question was posed––was there more information you could be hiding?

"Uh –" Sam began, only to be cut off by Dean saying –

"No. If we get found, that's fine, but if you're with us, we lose your relationship with her."

Before Jack could reply Dean climbed into the drivers seat, followed by Sam clambering in beside him. He had issues getting into the car at times. The engine stuttered to life, and Sam waved good-bye through the windshield as they pulled and drove the car away.

Jack frowned, his brow knitted together again.

"Bye," he said, but he was the only one to hear it.

Castiel would be back soon. He decided waiting in the library would guarantee he'd see Castiel as soon as possible, something he desired, as there were a number of new questions he wanted to pose to the elder angel. Thousands of years his senior, Castiel must've had answers––some sort of insight to some strange impulses, or simply comfort against 'wrong' thoughts.

Technically your library was private, meaning others weren't allowed to take your books away from the building, but you allowed him to take something home under the assurance of a guarantee. He would return it next time he saw you, a promise that clearly meant a lot to you going by the ease that overtook you when he said 'okay' with a signature, sweet smile. The only reason you leant the book to him was because it contained information you considered thought-provoking, thoughts about how humanity evolves, and how technological advances could change the actual anatomy of the human mind. Some of the claims seemed to him to be a bit of a reach, but others brought him interesting points.

The metal latch on the door let out a resounding click as the door swung open, Castiel standing behind with wild hair and a stunned look about him. He flung the door shut before running down the stairs towards Jack.

"Have they gotten back from the library yet?" He asked as he approached.

"No, they left..." he glanced at the clock, "a couple hours ago."

"Hmm," Castiel grumbled. "That's a long time for them."

"Should we go help them?" Jack suggested, setting your book aside as he stood straighter in his chair.

"No, we'll give them some more time. See what happens," he said before he set off, jogging into the hall.

Jack sighed as he slumped back into his seat, almost mourning the death of an easy excuse to go see your library. And Castiel left before he could ask him anything. Dean had a point, though––if they were caught and he was with them, that would ruin your relationship entirely, and that was something he, for some reason, despised.

It took another hour and a half before Sam and Dean were waltzing back in from the garage, tossing their duffel bags aside and shucking off warm, autumn jackets to side chairs. Something must've given away their presence, as Castiel was quick to reenter the main room.

"How did it go?" He asked.

"Like shit," Dean said, not even bothering to stop as he passed Castiel.

"We didn't find anything," Sam clarified. "Whole place was clean."

"Well.. maybe it's at their house," Castiel said almost gingerly, turning to keep his ever-vigilant eyes on the elder Winchester. "All the tools and... stuff."

"Yeah, that's what we're hoping," Dean said as he disappeared into the hallway.

"When did you say your date was again?" Sam asked, turning to Jack, who blanked for a moment before he answered.

"Two days from now," he said.

"Alright, well... we'll see what happens," he said with a nod, setting his hands on his hips. "Hopefully find where they might be hiding the kids."

Dean reentered with a bottle in hand, taking a quick swig as he settled down into one of the cushier chairs.

Jack's heart sped when his fingers began to fidget together, squirming restlessly in front of him. Questions still lingered on the edge of his mind, and answers from anyone would do him well, though he was well aware Dean would probably be reluctant to offer any advice to him.

"Could I ask you some questions?" He asked in the general direction of Cas, who happened to be standing right beside Dean. Castiel opened his mouth to answer.

"Sure," Dean said before he could speak. Castiel promptly shut his mouth after that.

"I know this shouldn't get in the way of the case, and it won't," Jack said as he took a seat opposite Dean. He and his brother shot each other glances. "I just have strange... thoughts, when I am around the librarian. Impulses, kind of."

Dean, who had raised the bottle to his lips, paused at those words and set it down instead, a decision that shocked both Sam and Castiel.

"What kind of impulses?" He asked in a flat voice.

"I want to... eat them," Jack said slowly, his brow furrowed deeply as he looked at the ground. When he looked back up, all three men were staring at him.

"You want to what??" Castiel asked.

"Like.. put my mouth on them...?" He tried.

"Wait – you mean kissing?" Sam asked as he shifted his weight between his feet.

"N... no, I don't think it's that," Jack said, though he was growing even less sure of himself with how they continued to gawk at him.

"You want to make out with the fairy?" Dean asked with a look that screamed 'unbelievable'.

"Maybe?" was the best answer Jack could offer.

Dean sighed, rubbing his face tiredly with his free hand.

"I don't want to.. encourage these thoughts," Castiel said, "but they might help on your date."

"So I should kiss them?"

"Maybe at the end of it," Sam suggested.

"And... how do I kiss?"

"Fuckin' –" Dean muttered under his breath as he stood, leaving the room with annoyance in his scowl.

The three of them––Jack, Sam, and Castiel––watched Dean round the corner and disappear.

"Ignore him," Sam said.

Sam, with some help from Castiel, patiently re-explained the happenings and ongoings of dates, from conversation topics to activities often done on dates. Sam assured Jack that he needn't do anything dramatic, over the top, or especially original, since Jack 'wasn't actually going on a date,' a phrase that made him a little sad for a reason he couldn't identify.

A bouquet of chocolate roses lay in his hands, the neon and florescent lights of the convenience store flickering and buzzing above him. Sam insisted a good way to start a date was with a gift––conventionally flowers, but the second Jack saw the chocolate roses he was entranced. He'd never seen candy in the shape of something real. Surely you would be delighted by the art, as well. Sam was less sure than he was, but allowed him to buy it with a chuckle, muttering something about how he wouldn't need to get chocolates anymore.

"Now remember," Sam began as he adjusted Jack's collar, "blood-soaked iron is what kills them, but since we don't have that right now, I think iron should hurt them."

"Forks, fire pokers, metal pipes... those usually have iron in them," said Dean.

"And if you get into a fight, just get out of there," Sam finished.

"No hanky-panky, either," Dean said.

"Dean," he hissed, slapping his brother's arm.

"What's hanky-panky?" Jack asked, furrowing his brow.

"Nevermind, just––be safe, have fun," Sam said with a smile, patting his shoulder.

The brothers dropped him off at your house before circling the block in search of a good vantage point. He took a shaky breath as he climbed your steps, soon rapping his knuckles on the plain, wooden door. It was a bit of a task trying to swallow, but he managed to push past his tight throat and put a smile on his face.

Footsteps sounded, growing closer until the door opened, revealing your wide eyes and the olive green silk you wore, draping elegantly from your chest down to your feet. A heavyweight scarf rested upon your shoulders. The warm light of the hallway behind you illuminated the loose strands of your always messy hair, but the sight still had his lips parting as he gasped softly. He felt suddenly out of place in his simple button-down, pants, and everyday jacket, shifting his weight almost uncomfortably as he found himself at a loss for words.

"You look... really nice," he said rather awkwardly, gesturing vaguely to your outfit with a dopey smile.

"Thanks," you said, chuckling. "You look nice too."

He stared for another moment before he suddenly remembered the chocolate and foil roses in his hands.

"I got these for you," he said as he handed them to you, scanning every inch of your reaction. "Sam told me to get flowers, but I think this is better, ‘cause then you get to eat them."

"You actually can eat roses! They just don't taste very good," you giggled, fixing your hair as you took them, a blushing smile still on your face. "I do like chocolate more, though."

"Oh, good," he said, his shoulders finally falling from their tense position. "I hope you don't mind walking. I don't know how to drive."

"I like walking, actually," you said as you walked past him, trotting down the front steps of your house. He followed along, his soft brown hair flopping like a puppy's ears over innocent eyes. "I like taking walks at night, but I don't take them a lot. It's kind of dangerous."

"Why?"

"A lot of people aren't very nice, or they're down on their luck and make poor decisions. I don't want to get hurt or mugged just because I like wandering around."

"Why would someone hurt you? You're such a nice person," he said with a frown.

"That doesn't mean anything," you laughed softly.

Food wasn't a particular attraction of Kansas, but few things were. The amount of restaurants in town was high, most of them serving a very similar menu containing lots of meat, barbecue, pie, and sometimes funnel cake. None were all that classy, so Jack took you to a place that Sam recommended––a nearly 24 hours open cafe whose kitchen was always open, and who hosted quiet, live jazz on select evenings.

You and Jack spoke of a number of things while you walked, none more interesting than any of your previous conversation topics, as you seemed to want to stay on the topic of him as a person rather than the history you usually rambled about. You asked who Sam was, which he explained as one of his fathers, at which point you asked who the second was. He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should tell the truth or formulate a more normal-person lie.

"I... my mother died in childbirth," he said, his voice uncharacteristically low and quiet, murmuring with the sureness of his trust in you. "My father, Castiel, takes care of me, with his brothers, Sam and Dean."

"Oh. I'm sorry," you murmured, and he opened his mouth to give the usual speech––it's alright, I've gotten used to it––but you continued with, "it's an honorable way to die."

He paused to absorb your words. No one had ever said that before.

"Yeah," he finally said. "I guess you're right."

"So what's your father like?"

He sucked in a breath, forced to once again decide between a truth, a half-truth, and a lie. Like with most things, he took the middle road.

"My genetic father isn't... I don't talk to him," he said.

"Oh."

"But Castiel is good. He always tries to do what's right. I'm still trying to learn about this whole.. being-alive thing, from him."

"I think we all are," you chuckled.

You ended up ordering for him when you finally got to the cafe, standing in line for only a few minutes before you were looking for a table. He had trouble understanding the menu, often asking you what things were, and eventually you had to gently push him on to let the next people in line have a turn. If this bothered you, it didn't show.

Piano and saxophone played in time with one another, their rhythms and melodies dancing around the beat of the drummer. Scant, warm light shone from above, illuminating the haze of clouds drifting from smokers, most of whom stood in the corner, nursing the embers as they watched the musicians play. Jack tapped his foot to the beat against the dark oak floor.

You joined him a moment later, two coffees in hand and your coat draped over your arm.

"Have you ever been here before?" You asked as you took a seat, casting your jacket over the back of the chair after you set the coffee down.

"No, I don't really get out much," he admitted.

"How come?"

"I don't.. really have friends," he admitted, again, though this time much more reluctantly. He'd heard that generally people respected you more if you had friends.

"That's alright," you said, leaning back with a soft smile made only more alluring by the dim, red and orange light. "I've found it's more fun to stay in than to go out sometimes. Everything becomes the same after a while. You can drink at home, you can dance at home, sing, host parties..." you sipped from your steaming cup, ".. so, obviously, I don't go out much either."

"You have friends, though?"

"Not really," you chuckled, glancing down. "Books last longer than conversation, generally."

"Then... why talk to me?" He asked, attempting to meet your eye with that knot still tucked into his brow.

"Because you came to me."

Soon your conversation was halted by a server bringing out your food. You made sure to thank him as he left, before hungry eyes settled eagerly upon your funnel cake. Unwrapping the napkin, you set the orange cloth on your lap, revealing your silverware. Jack followed your lead, copying your motions near exactly down to you rubbing your hands together excitedly.

He'd never tried funnel cake before, leaving him to melt as he took his first bite.

"Good, isn't it?" You chuckled through a full mouth.

He nodded ardently.

The crowd began to thin halfway through your meal, turning thick conversation to quiet murmurs confined to singular tables in corners and shadowed areas. Jack still had yet to find anything incriminating about you, an answer that led only to other questions, ones that flew wildly around his head.

You didn't seem human––at least, not entirely. There were things you said that hinted to something else, a knowledge within that was a little too wide for the lengths of a human mind. That and your soul; what he could see of your soul was strangely colored, florescent holographic, and warped far more than normal people's usually were––almost as warped as Sam and Dean's souls now were. Bright, yes, but warped. Something had happened to you.

But there was nothing bad within you. Darkness tinted the edges, the edges so often scraped by the world around you––the world around both of you––but the center within, where your heart emanated, was clear. It was actually rather beautiful; you were rather beautiful.

He wished he could tell you without seeming strange.

"What do you think about most, Jack?" You asked, pulling him away from his thoughts.

He instantly stuttered, as what he'd been thinking about was you, but he couldn't say that.

"Just.. uh, my, uh.. my place in the world," he said, tapping the end of his fork on the old wood table.

"Like your job, or your purpose as a human?" You asked as you sipped from your third refill of coffee.

"My purpose, sort of," he said, his eyes flickering to the ground. "I have a lot of responsibility. My father thinks I'm very powerful."

Was that giving too much away?

"What does he want you to do?"

"He wants me... to stay alive," he said, earning a soft chuckle from you that had a smile spreading across his own face. "I think he wants me to be safe and happy."

"That's a wonderful goal," you said with a grin. "And there are so many ways to achieve that."

So far he'd only found ways to achieve the opposite––how to antagonize the world by existing, how his grandfather wanted him dead, how his genetic father would use him for any power grab he posed. If you wanted to feel at risk of dying at any moment, he knew a thousand ways to do it.

"I haven't really found any," he said quietly.

You paused before you asked, "do you want my advice?"

He nodded, hesitantly at first, but sure of himself when you smiled softly.

"Always be kind to others. Mind your own business unless someone is getting hurt, and if you have to get your hands dirty, do it for only a second. Then get the hell out of there and wash yourself clean for the next hundred couple years," you said.

There it was again. A hint of something more. In passing conversations Jack heard from strangers, no one spoke like they lived history. Not like you did. And he'd wager no historian spoke with the sense of memory that you did.

"Anything specific make you realize that?" He asked, unable to stop himself from chuckling.

You looked his age––sometime in your 20's––but you spoke like an 80 year old. Something about that facade appeared humorous to him. He also looked your age––sometime in his 20′s––but he spoke like a 10 year old far more than he liked to admit.

"Family drama," you said dismissively. "I've been steering clear for a while now."

Did fairies have families?

Well, if you were a fairy, you could just be lying then.

Jack frowned. If Dean or Castiel were here, they would know what to say and think.

"I understand," was what he said instead.

The impala was still parked near the house by the time Jack was walking you home, a sight that nearly sent him panicking. Sam and Dean wouldn't want him to do that. So he clenched his fists in his pockets, his shoulders tightening ever so slightly as he tried to slow his pace in a way you wouldn't notice.

But you did. Of course you did.

"You alright, Jack?" You asked, matching his pace.

"Yeah, I just..." what was something normal to say? Something he could back up – "I meant to ask you something, but I didn't ever... find the time to."

"What was it you wanted to ask?"

He shivered as a brisk wind picked up, the dry, orange leaves on the edges of the sidewalk passing quick by his feet in the breeze.

"Do you think everyone feels this lost in life?" He asked, barely audible above the wind.

"There's a little bit of you in everybody, just like how there's a little bit of everybody in you. You're capable of the same things that a murderer is just as you are a... a hero, or a martyr," you said, taking time to think before you spoke. "Humans are remarkably similar, you come to see after a while. And even Gods face these questions, these wonderings of their origins and their purpose, if their creations are everything they're meant for or – or if they're doing something wrong, and they should be doing something else instead."

He continued to stare at the ground as you walked slowly side by side, brought out of his intense expression by something soft flopping over the back of his neck. His heart thrummed as you stopped him there, turning him to face you, and looking him in the eye as you fixed your scarf on his shoulders. The effect was instantaneous––his shoulders relaxed and the stress fell from his brow, absorbed in the warmth of your gesture.

"Whatever you're going through," you gave him a pointed look, telling him silently to not deny this truth, "is worse and better than what other people go through. It may not be the best but it's probably not the worst."

Your advice, though insightful, didn't mean much considering his problems had to do with the continued life or prompt execution of the entire universe by a bitter, old man. But the main point remained; there were more painful deaths than his, just as there were better ways to die than he would or will. He may not be facing the best circumstances, but they could be much worse, and the fact that normal humans often asked the same questions he did was more of a comfort than he thought it would be. Perhaps he really was connected to his mother in that way.

The steps creaked beneath your shared weight as you both approached the front door of your house. You opened the door, stepping partway through the threshold before you turned to him, hesitation lacing your open mouth.

Behind you, Jack managed to spot two shadowed figures running across the hallway towards what he presumed to be a back door. His eyes widened imperceptibly and he pursed his lips, quick averting his gaze back to you.

"You're special, Jack," you said quietly, scanning him with a careful look. "Don't let bad circumstances own you. You only get so much time in this world."

"You're very kind," was all he could managed to respond with. "Thanks for... going out with me tonight."

"Of course. I like talking to you."

"I'm glad you do," he said with a sheepish chuckle, one you mimicked as you fixed your hair.

"I'll see you again soon?"

"Yes, I – oh," he interrupted himself, remembering your scarf still enveloping him, "this belongs to you."

"Don't worry about it," you said, taking his arms and settling them back down to his sides. "It's kind of cold out tonight, and I'm assuming you're walking home... aren't you?"

"... yeah," he lied, blood rushing to his face at the thought of taking a piece of you home.

"Then I'll get it back another time," you said, smiling.

You hesitated to close the door again, and instead you gingerly moved forward, raising yourself to press a single, soft kiss to his cheek, the edge of it just barely touching his lips. His mouth parted in surprise, but before he could say anything you shut the door.

He walked back to the impala completely starstruck.

"I don't think they're dangerous," Jack said, restating what he'd said earlier to Sam and Dean on the drive home––he just couldn't see you as suspicious. Strange, yes, but not murderous.

"If what you say is true, though, then this is quite likely a fae," said Castiel as his eyes flickered from Jack to Sam and Dean.

"See? Facts are facts, kid," Dean said, pointing to Castiel with a smile.

"Hexbags, crystals, actual photos with them from, like, 1890? And the amount of plants," Sam continued with a slight shudder.

"How many plants were there?" Castiel asked, frowning sternly.

"Too damn many," Dean answered for him. "The point is, we gotta interrogate that thing."

"They didn't do anything wrong!" Jack said, his voice tripling without his knowledge.

Everyone in the room reacted accordingly––stiff postures and sharp breaths as the golden light faded in his eyes.

"Jack..." Castiel began hesitantly, his voice quiet and low.

He barely uttered out an 'I'm sorry,' before he turned and left, disappearing down the hallway and into his room.

It took him nearly a whole day to leave his room, having spent most of the time alone to brood and ponder over his actions, and whether or not he was being manipulated by a fairy creature. He couldn't deny the fact that there was a chance he was wrong and he was under your control, thus landing him with the only sane decision, somehow; trust Sam and Dean.

Silence surrounded him as he padded through the bunker, headed towards the kitchens after not eating for nearly 24 hours. Technically he could live without food for much, much longer than that, even without sleep, but it wasn't a particularly pleasant experience.

When he reached the kitchen he also found it empty. In fact, the whole bunker sounded empty, leaving all the cereal for him. He smiled.

Sam and Dean returned before Castiel did, though after their return they hid away doing 'private business' in the basement area. Jack tried to ask what it was they were doing, but Dean curtly brushed him off, sending him back upstairs to go clean up the mess they left in the kitchen after a quick, midnight dinner.

As he was scrubbing the dishes, a door lock clattered in the distance, marking Castiel's return. Now that the fort was manned again, he could sneak off to see you in the morning. Castiel informed him that showing up at people's houses at midnight could be seen in a very bad way. He knew you wouldn't judge him, but he still didn't want to embarrass himself, and it was only a few more hours to wait till dawn.

He could fly. He could also ask Sam or Dean to drive him (while he could also ask to drive Baby, he knew the answer would be an ardent no), but the grey clouds promised rain, and the smell of rain hitting the leaf-covered earth pleasured his mind. With your scarf wrapped around him, he could avoid the cold as well.

His feet were a little tired by the time your library came into view, though still warm in the crisp air from fuzzy, woolen socks. The frayed edges of your scarf fluttered about chaotically in the wind as he noticed something rather odd––the library wasn't open. None of the lights were turned on, the chairs were still atop the tables, and you were nowhere to be seen. He had left the bunker a little early, but you always opened by 5AM at the latest, and it was 8 now.

For several minutes he hadn't a clue as to what to do, meaning he stood motionless in silence in front of the glass door, his head tilting slowly to the side in confusion. Maybe you woke up late––that would explain it. You were perfectly safe in your bed, dozing after a good night's sleep, completely unharmed.

But things rarely worked out so easily for Jack. Your home was empty, no sign of your disappearance left as your shoes, jacket, keys, and wallet were still left by the front door. In a sudden panic at the thought of your absence, the world around him flickered for a split second before he appeared in the bunker's war room. Knowing the usual fate of the people he cared about, you were probably being hurt, perhaps kidnapped by the actual fae who'd been killing the children, or lost of your own volition in a forest you wandered too far into.

"Castiel." Jack grabbed the angel's coat sleeve, stopping him on the way to the stairs. "I went looking for the librarian and they're missing."

"Missing?" Castiel repeated with a grimace. "Did you check the library and the house?"

"Yes, I couldn't find them."

"They might be headed for the children," he said, sending a pang through Jack's heart that he ignored.

"Is... is there a way to track a fae?"

"There's no spell I know of," Castiel said, his gaze falling to the floor as he scanned his mind. "But if it's a magical creature, it may carry a sort of... a sort of scent."

"A scent?" Jack furrowed his brow, wondering if something could carry your scent.

Something you'd been around a while. Something like your books, or your bed, or –

Jack jumped after he realized he was still wearing your scarf which, despite its' time with Jack in his room, still smelled of you. He shoved it into Castiel's arms, but he only gave him a confused look.

"It's their scarf," he explained.

Castiel spared him from the embarrassment of explaining how he'd gotten it.

He held the crumpled scarf in his hand up to his nose, intaking a deep breath with closed eyes. Jack hadn't ever heard of this kind of tracking, which was odd since he inherently knew most things about angels, but he would never distrust his father. What he did distrust was the churning feeling in his chest, as though a curved knife had impaled itself in him and twisted slowly through his skin.

Doubts pervaded both angels almost immediately as Castiel followed the trail. It led near to the stairs, but took a harsh turn and went into the hallway, leading them further into the bunker.

"Are you sure this is theirs?" Castiel asked as they hurried down the hall.

"Positive," he said, earning a sigh and a nod from Castiel.

They continued, this time less sure of themselves, as the scarf continued to lead them through the bunker, trotting down stairs till they landed in the base floor. Here the walls, ceiling, and floor were made of thick cement, allowing their footsteps to echo around the empty halls.

Jack picked up the pace and Castiel followed, running after the trail that ended right in front of the dungeon door. The torture room door, where monsters were locked up, and sometimes friends as well. A sort of fury was boiling in his blood despite his earlier acceptance of the Winchester's plan. Keeping you here in secret was never something he agreed to.

Without even fully realizing it, Jack was wrenching open the handle, the door whizzing open and slamming against the wall with a resounding crack. There, in the center of a pentagram, you were bound to a chair with thick, iron chains, your molted form flanked by Sam and Dean. The latter carried a knife in his hand, one covered in dripping blood. Sam whirled around at the sound of the door opening, meaning he was the first to see Jack's glowing eyes, and the suddenly panicked expression on Castiel's face.

"What are you doing to them?" Castiel growled with wide eyes, taking long, quick steps over in front of you. Without hesitation he undid the restraints, letting you fall down to the floor.

"Cas, they're a fae," Dean said, his tone stern and curt.

"No, they're not," Castiel replied, his own voice equally as sure. "I can't.. blame you, for not knowing this. You're only human. But it's obvious to me."

Sam opened his crossed arms, waiting for the angel to explain himself. Meanwhile, Jack regained his composure after being shocked by Castiel's actions, and made his way over to you, kneeling at your side. You'd been cut in a few different places––nothing too grievous, at least not by Winchester standards––and drops of your blood painted streaks down your sweaty skin.

"They're an Old God," Castiel finally said, but the words were followed by silence.

"We're just supposed to know what that is?" Dean asked gruffly.

"I thought your brother might," he said in a quiet voice.

Dean unfolded his arms, shifting his weight as he cast a glance to his brother.

"Old Gods are... ancient deities created by wandering bands of hunter-gatherers in your past. They got their power from their worshippers, not from Chuck, which... made them very different, to say the least," Castiel continued, still keeping his voice soft as he raised his hand above several of your wounds, stitching the skin back together with his grace.

"I've heard of hunter and gatherers," Jack said as he recalled some of the books in your library. "They wandered in bands of around 50 to 100 people."

He earned several unimpressed stares.

"Well – if they got their power from worshippers, how's this one still alive?" Sam asked after a moment of silence.

"I don't know," Castiel admitted. "I've never met this one before."

"Okay, just because they're not a fae doesn't mean they aren't the one that killed those kids," Dean said, interrupting their short conversation.

The iron knife still twirled in his hands; the only weapon against fairies. Jack kept a close eye on it as they spoke.

"An Old God would never hurt a human," Castiel said with such an intensity that no one had any choice but to believe him. “And besides,” he turned back to you, “they would’ve lost their powers long ago when humans stopped believing in them.”

Your eyes listed open while you lay in Jack's hold, the swirling image of your friend coming lazily into view.

"... Jack?" You mumbled, struggling to keep your eyelids up.

His gaze shot down to you, eyes widening at the sight of your movement.

"Hey," he said softly, hushing you when you tried to speak. "Are you okay?"

You mustered your strength to nod.

"I'm assuming you're an agricultural God," Castiel said after a moment of watching the two of you interact. "You look to be around 12,000 years old." He looked up to Dean and Sam. "That's how old agriculture is."

"Yeah, I know," Sam scoffed, but Dean remained silent.

"Do I really look that old?" You asked, laughing through your slurred words.

"Your soul does," Castiel answered.

You hummed weakly in response, drifting back into unconsciousness, your body going limp in Jack's arms.

Jack healed what remaining injuries you had, using it partway as an excuse to touch you. His palms set flat on the cuts, and with you far off in your dreams, you didn't feel the burn or the relief of his healing. He thought first to bring to his room to lay you on his bed, but Sam gently suggested that you should be put in one of their many spare bedrooms.

Castiel and the Winchesters attempted to take his mind off of you, but it wasn't long before he was back at your side, waiting for you to wake up again. He scanned your body constantly with his mind, searching for any hidden injuries he might've missed the first time around. The case remained unsolved, the children still missing and the culprit unknown. Your disqualifying left the Winchesters with no more suspects, but Jack couldn’t bring himself to worry about a creature that wouldn’t strike again for another ten years when you wouldn’t wake up to his voice calling your name.

It took hours until you stirred again, eyes fluttering into a half-open state as they fell to Jack. He had his head hung low, his elbows leant on his knees, and his hair drooping in front of his face.

"I was created in Turkey," you rasped out through a dry throat.

At the slightest sound his head shot up, eyes widening with a spark upon seeing your soft smile.

"It's a country, by the way," you mumbled, correctly assuming Jack didn't know the country, and only knew the bird. "At a place they call Gobekli Tepe, now. The people of the land would... would gather there, and share their cultured seeds, and the magic needed to make them grow."

"Magic?"

"Simple water and sunlight," you said with a weak chuckle. "It was magic to them. Everything was."

You fell silent before you said, "I miss them."

"Were they different? From people now?" Jack asked.

"Very," you nodded assuredly. "But there are some people, nowadays, that remind me of them."

He chuckled quietly. Warmth spread from your touch when you reached forward, just barely gracing his hand with yours. He took the initiative, entangling your fingers together, and watching intently as your thumb ran over the back of his hand.

"You are a new God, aren't you?" You asked, narrowing your eyes curiously, with no sense of hostility.

"I'm... I'm a nephilim. Lucifer's son, actually, but I promise I'm not like him," he said, gripping you tighter.

"A nephilim?" You asked with a frown.

"The son of an angel," he clarified.

It was the first time he was able to tell you something you didn't know instead of the other way around.

"I've never heard of angels."

His brows raised in surprise.

"Really?" He asked.

"I haven't really kept up with the world as of recent. When did angels first appear?"

"I... don't know," he said after wracking his brain and finding no answer. "Castiel might know."

"Castiel.. Castiel, that was your father, right?"

"Yeah. The good one," he said, earning a chuckle from you that brought a blush to his face.

"He is another God?"

"Another angel, yes," he nodded. "(Y/N), I... I have so many questions for you."

"About what?" You asked skeptically, giving him a playful glare.

"About humans, mostly," he said. "I mean, I've already been asking you questions, but now I know you have a lot more answers than I thought."

"Yes, well, I do keep my memory stored in a mushroom," you muttered beneath your breath.

Jack frowned. Was that normal?

"Can you tell me about them?" He asked, just barely masking his eagerness.

"My people?"

He nodded, and you smiled softly, your eyes glazing over as you recalled thousands of years past.

[jay-and-dean]

Sweat and Dirt and Cum

Demon Dean x Reader

Summary : Calling Demon Dean because you miss Dean... Bad bad idea.

Warnings : SMUT (yeah you read the title), like kinda dark (it’s Deanmon !), hair pulling, Dom!Deanmon, total marking kink, mh... blood ? A hint of dirty talk and anal play ? I think that’s it. Swearing of f*cking course.

Note :  This is my part of @holylulusworld​‘s 11k Celebration. I know it’s a big drabble... I promised you a round 3 Lulu... I wasn’t kidding. Congratulation again.

Also this is my first Demon Dean fic.

Wordcount : 1.2k

My MASTERLIST

——————————————————————

Tugging at the too short dress of your angel costume, you shiver. The night is cold and, out here on that parking lot, you can barely hear the loud music playing inside of the bar so no one would hear you call.

“That was a bad idea” you mutter to yourself, licking the liquor on your lips and looking in the dark surrounding you in a mix of fear and excitement. “Bad… bad idea.”

It was the worst idea indeed.

You Miss Dean painfully, yes… But he is not himself anymore, he is not your boyfriend. He is the monster he always fought now. And he proved it when he abandoned you, like Sammy, with that stupid note : “Let me go.”

“An angel, Y/n… Really ?” a voice makes you jump and your phone falls on the floor in a cracking sound that makes you hiss.

Then your eyes eagerly search the shadows behind the reach of the pallid street light above your head. Your body is shaking and a cold drop of sweat is running down your spine.

Dean is dangerous, a trained killer with torture skills. You never really thought of it when he was human, because he was a good man, but now, he’s a knight of Hell. And you texted him your location…

“Where are you ?” you ask shakily, not knowing in which direction to talk.

A shadow moves, black on black, and his silhouette tears itself away from the dark, entering the street light.

Your body shivers, your stomach is hurting with terror, but every cell of your body is screaming for him. Your love, your obsession, everything you have been missing for the pass months.

“You didn’t invite me to your little Halloween party… Angel” he smirks with an expression on his perfect face that you never knew before.

“Why would I ?” you say, trying to swallow the tears in your trembling voice. “You left.”

“So why did you call ?” his eyes turn black.

That’s when you notice the blood on his sleeves, the blood on his shoes, fresh… Everywhere.

“Oh God…” you let out a terrified sob. “What were you doing…”

“Angel, why did you call ?” he insists, taking a few steps closer that look totally threatening.

“I don’t know” you cry, honest. “I was at that party and drank a little and…”

Now standing in front of you, he lets his hands gently go up your naked arms, and touch, with the tip of his bloody fingers, the feathers of the white wings you’re carrying in your back. You sigh at his touch, tears still rolling down your face.

You missed him so much, and you need him like crazy, so you lean on his caress, ignoring the pitch black monstrosity in his eyes.

But all of sudden, his hand fists your hair brutally, making your head go back in a pained gasp.

“Why. Did. You. Call” he groans, closer to your ear.

“I…” you sob with no more tears, but his strong arm tugs even harder at your hair, so much that it hurts your neck. “I MISS YOU !” you finally let out in a desperate scream.

“Oh I miss you too Angel” he chuckles darkly, his tongue darting out to lick at your neck. “Put your little hand on my cock and feel how much” you don’t really move. “Hand on my cock, now.”

Not able to look down because of how hard he’s holding your hair, you let your hesitant hand grab his crotch, and feel liquid fill your panties.

“On my cock, Angel, not on my jeans” he groans, biting your pulse point hard with his perfect sharp teeth.

You cry out, tugging at your own hair to get free of his cruel grip, but he won’t let go.

“Dean…” you whimper, torn, scared and needy. “Stop those games, take me please… I miss us…”

A dreadful laugh comes out of his chest.

“How fucking desperate” he mocks you, his other hand playfully spreading blood on your cleavage.

You open his belt with trembling hands, push the zipper down and slip inside of his pants, finding no underwear, only his hard cock pushing at the rough fabric of his jeans.

“Dean…” you moan, your walls clenching around nothing, again and again, begging for him.

“Make me want it, Angel” he smirks, forcing your mouth open with his bloody hand to lick inside it.

You start pumping his length, moaning at the feeling of his veins and silky skin, going down to his balls occasionally. He groans in your neck sucking a hickey somewhere it can’t be hidden.

“More” he orders as he crushes you against the cold and soot darken wall behind you.

Your neck still slightly angled back, you close your eyes, trying to ignore the blood on him and the pain in your scalp, to focus on the smell of Dean, his skin, and everything you ever loved. Your other hand joins the one working to focus on the head of his twitching cock.

“Fuck yes” he moans. “You want me that bad, you’re pathetic.”

When he lets go of your hair, you gasp in relief, the burning feeling wetting your eyes.

He turns you, crushing your face on the tiles, and once again your inner walls throb in anticipation. His hand roughly cups your sex.

“I feel you fucking clench through your panties !” his bloody fingers start rubbing from your entrance to your clit harshly, sending your craving body close to the edge already. You can feel his nails scratch the wet fabric against your swollen clit and you know you’re soaking his hand.

“Please…” you whine, panting with your face against the dirty wall.

A cold feeling on your butt makes you look back and you jump in sudden fear. The First Blade.

“Sh… I won’t kill you, Angel” he lets out with a vicious chuckle. “I want you alive…” the blade cuts your panties easily, and they fall at your ankles. “I want you to walk back in that Halloween shit” his fingers come back to your folds, spreading your wetness from your aching clit to your asshole. “And I want you to walk funny when you look for my brother” his fingers tease your entrance and you try not to think of who’s blood it is on it. “Your pretty wings and dress all bloody, skin bruised and covered in hickeys” he moves to tease your other hole, making it pulsate under his expert fingers. “All filthy with sweat and dirt and cum.”

With that, and without any other warning, he bends you more and pushes his so desired cock inside of you in a sharp and brutal thrust that makes you cry out loudly.

“W-wait…” you gasp, needing a second to adjust. “D-dean.”

His face comes closer to yours, eyes flashing black again. Your thighs shake hard as you try to delay the orgasm already threatening to crush you.

“There is no waiting” he thrusts again so hard your body bangs on the dusty wall, a feral growl makes his chest vibrate on your back. “You take me, Angel. You take me everywhere and in every ways, then you can sit in my car, dripping on the seats while Sammy drives you home.”

_______________________________

FEEDBACK IS MY FUEL

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[apocalypseornaw]

One Condition

For the square "Friends to lovers" on @girl-next-door-writes make me feel bingo

Side note Bobby is alive in this cause screw canon

No real warnings besides cursing and lots of fluff

First meeting

You had just thrown your bags into the trunk of your nova when your cell phone started ringing. You cursed under your breath and ran to the front seat to grab it. You barely glanced at the screen but recognized the number instantly.

You answered with a smile on your face “Bobby! How are you doing?” You could hear other voices in the background but that wasn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence.

Bobby was pretty much one of the few people that tried to coordinate the efforts of hunters and offered a place to crash and or get patched up to those he was close with. “As good as I ever am sweetheart. Look I got some boys here that are hunting a witch and since you’re a bit more attuned with that type of thing from everything your uncle taught you I was wondering if you could lend them a hand” You didn’t even think about it before you said “Of course. I’m about three hours from you but I’ll head that way” if Bobby was asking you to work with them they could be trusted. You heard him call someone in the background an idjit before he told you to drive safe and hung up.

------

“You think this chick can handle a witch better than me and Sam Bobby?” Dean was a bit skeptical about Bobby calling in another hunter to back them up. “Son, her uncle raised her and he was a witch. She didn’t pick up a lot from him but she knows enough to spot the signs and had a few defensive maneuvers up her sleeve. Give her a chance, I’ve known her for years and she’s just as good a hunter as either of you”

The sound of an engine pulling up drew their attention. Sam stepped around the corner from the kitchen with a bottle of water in his hand and motioned to the door “That her?” Bobby tilted his head slightly and listened for a moment before nodding “Yeah that’s her nova” 

Dean and Sam both followed Bobby out to the porch. You parked just behind the impala and killed your engine before climbing out your car. Bobby walked down the steps to greet you and a smile slipped onto your face the moment you saw him “Bobby!” you hugged him and he did his usual checklist to ensure your last hunt was successful and you hadn’t had no recent injuries before finally turning his attention back to the two standing on the porch watching the two of you greet each other “These the boys I told you about” he started so Sam of course stepped up first and extended his hand “I’m Sam. That’s my older brother Dean” you shook Sam’s hand with a smile “Name’s Y/N”

Dean nodded at you but you could see how skeptic he was about working with you. “Hold on..Sam and Dean? John’s sons” Dean nodded again so you turned back to Bobby not meaning to talk about the Winchesters in front of them but needing to ask “I thought they didn’t really work with other hunters? Did they change their policy since their dad died?”

Dean cleared his throat so you looked back at him. He gave you a smile that was much more sarcasm than friendly “Sweetheart we can answer questions for ourselves.” You laughed sharply before replying “My name isn’t sweetheart darling and I was just making sure the two of you had worked up to the point of playing well with others. I see your brother has manners but from where I’m standing I ain’t too impressed with yours”

You brushed past Dean into the house so he begrudgingly followed you. Bobby whispered to Sam “Either they’ll work well together or the witch will be distracted enough by their fighting you should be able to kill her easy enough”

Friends?

“Can I ask you one thing sweetheart” Dean spoke from the other side of the motel room and you cut your eyes up with a raised eyebrow “What?” He motioned to where you were currently painting your nails “I mean what I’m about to say in the least offensive way possible”

“Not a good way to start a conversation with a woman who is armed and can kick your ass but do please continue” you replied and he laughed before holding his hands up defensively “It’s just..you’re a hunter and one of the best I know. You’re pretty badass in my opinion but you always have your nails painted and yeah it’s normally a dark color but I was just curious as to why”

You let a sly grin slip onto your face as you closed the nail polish and placed it back into your bag “It comes in handy” “How so?” he asked so you shot him a wink “You’ll see”

------

Later that night you and the boys headed back to the motel to catch a little sleep before parting ways the next morning. Dean stopped you just outside your room door “C’mon Y/N tell me how you knew who the shifter was” you stopped and leaned back against the doorframe glancing over where Sam was watching you and his older brother with an amused smile.

You held up one hand and wiggled your fingers. Dean looked confused for a moment then realization flashed across his face “Does your nail polish have silver in it?” You grinned “Silver infused basecoat and that my dear is why my nails are always painted” 

He nodded approvingly “Smart and yet again proves my point of why you’re one of the best hunters I know” you touched the tender spot on your side when the shifter had thrown you into a wall and probably would’ve went for a killing blow had Dean not been there “You’re not so bad yourself Dean, in fact I would say you’ve finally learned how to play well with others” Sam laughed but Dean simply grinned “Only took a few years of knowing you huh?”

“What can I say? I’m a miracle worker even with seemingly lost causes” he shook his head with a light laugh “Goodnight Y/N” “Night Dean,Night Sam” after Sam wished you a goodnight you walked into your room and shut the door behind yourself. Who would’ve thought all those years before when you first met the brothers that they’d end up being your two closest friends?

Maybe more?

Dean stopped in his tracks when he walked into Bobby’s living room and saw you curled up on the couch fast asleep. You had grabbed his discarded jacket from the arm of the couch and was using it as a pillow. A small smile slipped onto his face at seeing you were finally resting so he grabbed one of the blankets Bobby kept in the hall closet to spread across your legs. You moved slightly in your sleep and for just a moment he worried he may have woken you up but you were simply burrowing further into his jacket and the blanket.

He walked quietly back into the kitchen and sat down at the table across from Bobby “She doing ok?” Bobby asked, nodding back towards you.  “Yeah she’s finally asleep. I’ve been worried about her these last few days” in truth you had done something incredibly stupid while also simultaneously brave.

You, him and Sam had gone up against a coven and you’d taken the brunt of a spell protecting him without even knowing what the spell could do. He had felt an ice cold jolt of fear when you’d gone down. He was afraid when he made it to your side that you’d be gone. Thankfully you were stronger than given credit by the witches. They’d gotten you into the impala and Dean hadn’t come under ninety getting you to Bobby’s.

Bobby being well Bobby had an antidote waiting but apparently it’d take a few days to get your system back right after the shock of the spell. The last week and a half you’d gone through shivering spells hard enough you’d cracked a tooth only to spike a fever the next moment.

You hadn’t kept much to eat down and sleep had been out of the question completely. You’d been in and out of it and Dean hadn’t left your side for a second even refusing to go into town if anything was needed. That’s where Sam currently was.

“You care about her don’t you?” Bobby asked, forcing Dean out of his thoughts about you. “What? Of course I do, she’s my friend” Bobby sighed in frustration with the younger man who was like a son to him and just as stubborn “Dean that’s not what I meant” that made Dean really stop to consider what Bobby was saying. Did he have romantic feelings for you?

When was the last time he’d sought another woman? It just seemed natural to spend time with you after a hunt or just crash. When he needed to talk to someone he’d call you if the two of you weren’t around each other. He always looked forward to seeing a smile on your face and when it was because of him? There wasn’t a better feeling. You’d become such an important part of his life over the years he hadn’t even realized it.

When you’d gotten hurt this time and he faced the very real possibility of losing you it had just confirmed what he’d already known deep down. You were who he wanted in his life. You were the most amazing woman he’d ever met, you kept him on his toes and made him strive to be a better man every day although you never missed an opportunity to tell him just how good of a man he already was. “Bobby..” he started but was silenced with a look “Don’t tell me son. Save it for when Y/N wakes up then you two need to have a talk”

------

When you slowly started to wake up you felt like you’d been hit by a bus. Christ what had happened? Everything was a little foggy. You caught a whiff of gunpowder,leather and cinnamon and memories started flooding back. Dean. That damn witch had thrown a spell at him!

You sat up quickly only for a wave of dizziness to push you back down. You then realized your pillow had in fact been Dean’s jacket. Where was he? Was he ok? “Dean?” you called weakly calming slighty when you recognized your surroundings as Bobby’s living room.

You heard footsteps and looked up to see him walking into the room with a worried smile “You’re awake” you nodded slowly being careful to not cause another wave to push you back under and started to sit up much more carefully this time. He stepped forward to help you then sat down next to you so you leaned your head over on his shoulder with your legs curled up under you while you turned to face him on the couch. 

“Are you ok?” you asked, voice slightly muffled due to the fact that your face was buried in his shirt. He laughed slightly which caused you to pull back enough to look at him “Why are you laughing at me?” he raised one hand to gently cup the side of your face “You’re asking if I’m ok while you’ve spent the last week and a half going through everything this side of torture because you decided it was best to shove me out the way and take that blast for yourself” you grimaced slightly “Well at least we’re both alive”

You realized he was still holding your face and probably would’ve been embarrassed had you not been fighting the urge to curl up against his chest and go back to sleep. “Why?” he asked and you were confused for a moment before you realized he was asking why you’d saved him. “Because whether you believe it or not Dean you’re worth saving time and again” he smiled slightly and opened his mouth to talk but you raised a hand before he could “Wait let me get this out while you feel bad and may not make fun of me later if it backfires I can blame it on the after effects”

You might as well confess your feelings now considering you’d nearly died for him. When he nodded you took a deep breath then said “Dean I’ve had feelings for you for a while. I couldn’t very well just let you die. It was worth the risk” “Can I speak now?” he asked with a slight smile so you nodded. He leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead before saying “I feel the same way about you. When you’re better I want to take you on an actual date, ya know actually romance you but for now thank you and please don’t ever scare me like that again”

You smiled slightly then said “On one condition” “Which is?” he asked so you motioned to his chest “Can I go back to sleep on you?” He laughed and pulled you into his lap “For as long as you want”

 @girl-next-door-writes

[impala-in-gotham]

This Destiel/finale fix-it ficlet I wrote...

This is my first attempt at writing fic so be gentle haha but I had a dream close to this and kinda tweaked it from there but it’s basically a finale fix-it in which I’ve decided Dean’s still alive. He lost consciousness a few sentences into his speech and imagined the rest, which is what we saw. There’s just too much about “heaven” that has been used before as a façade. So here goes…

“Okay. P-Please. I'm fading pretty quick, so...there's a few things that I-...” before he can even start the next words Dean’s head lolls to the side and his eyes fall closed.

Sam feels like everything is moving in slow motion as the nightmare of losing his brother plays out in front of his eyes.

“Dean??”

Sam holds Dean in place the best he can and his dread drains away slightly as he hears Dean’s shallow breaths despite his sudden loss of consciousness.

Sam's thoughts start racing, time-induced panic ticking away. Nothing they haven’t dealt with before but this isn’t Chuck’s tale of heroes anymore. It’s just them now.

"Shit, shit, shit...the nearest hospital is still too far...I can't...there's too many bodies to even try to explain...I can't even let Dean go to hide them...shit. Shit...Jack!"

"Hang on, Dean. Just hang on as long as you can. I'll fix this."

Sam prays loudly into the empty barn, "Jack?? Jack, I know you can see this, I hope you can do something, please. It can't end like this. It wasn't supposed to end like this. Not after everything we've been through, everything Dean's survived, he doesn't deserve this. You know he doesn't. Please, Jack. He's not gone yet, he can still be saved. I'm not asking for resurrection here, just...just heal him, please, he deserves to be saved."

As if on cue, the barn roof starts to rattle, a few bulbs burst overhead and Cas walks through the barn doors, rushing to their side while Sam's eyes widen in shock.

"Cas?!? but...", Sam stammers out with only a little bit of shock and a lot more relief.

Cas darts his eyes straight at him and it feels like he's looking straight at his soul.

"Sam, I need you to hold him steady, I'll start healing, but I need you to slowly pull him forward as I heal, alright?... Sam?!...Ok?!"

"Yeah...Yes...Ok, I'm ready.", Sam’s words stumble out as he refocuses onto Dean's weight in his arms.

The familiar golden glow pours from Cas steadier than it did the last time Sam watched him heal Dean's hand. So easily that Sam is holding all of Dean's weight mere seconds later. Cas helps him lay Dean down. Dean's breathing has evened out, but his face is still clammy and pale.

Cas holds Dean's head in his lap for a few moments, as he pulls off his trench coat and folds it up as a makeshift pillow, easing his head onto it. The care and intimacy of the moment, it feels like Sam needs to look away, but then Cas stands and looks up at the relief and tears on Sam's face.

"He'll be alright, Sam. He lost a fair amount of blood so he just nee-".

Sam practically slams his entire body into Cas as he crushes him into a hug, "Cas, I can't believe you're here. Of course, you're here. You saved him. You always save him. Thank you, Cas. I didn't know what to do. Jack said he'd be hands-off but it's Dean."

"Of course. Jack sent me as soon as he heard you. We’re lucky we made it in time.", Cas looks around at the lifeless bodies and their lost heads strewn about, "I'll help you clean this up but first, I'll get those boys home."

As Sam piles up the bodies a familiar but long since heard sound of wings flutter near Dean and Cas is back. He's looking down at Dean with such adoration but with his matter-of-fact tone states, "They're back with their mother, who was thankful to you both...and to have her tongue healed back. I took the liberty of altering their memories. They shouldn't have to live with that trauma." His eyes still lost to watching Dean’s chest rise and fall.

"You got your wings back," Sam says without realizing he thought it aloud.

Cas smiles coyly and looks back at Sam, visibly spreading them out, while Sam watches in awe as their shadows encompass the barn behind him. "Along with a few other powers I've missed now that Jack has restored heaven to what it should be."

Sam sighs, "Yeah, about that..."

While cleaning up the barn, Sam and Cas catch each other up on what happened since they last saw each other. Sam talks about defeating Chuck, Jack bringing everyone back, and how mundane the past months of freedom have been. Cas tells Sam how Jack rescued him from the Empty as well as other angels like Michael (with Adam), Gabriel, Hannah, Samandriel, and Balthazar to name a few.

Sam throws his lighter into the pile of vamps and looks over at Cas, "It's great to have you back, Cas. Dean didn't...well more like couldn't I guess. He couldn't talk about you much after... all he told us was you made a deal and you summoned the Empty to save him from Billie...but after that, he could barely say your name. Didn't stop him from asking Chuck to bring you back", he says with a small smirk, then presses his lips together and sighs, "but it was like a part of him had shut down or just broke. He wouldn't tell me and if you don't want to, I won't push it but you're my best friend, Cas and I...I still don’t know...Can you tell me what happened?"

Cas looks into Sam's puppy dog eyes, now glistening either from the fire or the topic, and then over at Dean still peacefully asleep a few feet away. He reaches out his grace and maybe Dean's soul recognizes it because he is sleeping soundly as if he hasn't in months. Cas guesses that's probably true. Contemplating how much of the story is his to tell and how much Dean would allow him to say since Sam and Cas both know it's not that he won't, he can't.

Cas reaches out and squeezes Sam's shoulder. "I'm sorry for any pain I caused you, I didn't have a choice. I knew it was the only way to beat Chuck. That only you and Dean could find a way. I made the deal to save Jack when he was dying, the Shadow agreed to take me instead but not until I had experienced true happiness. With Chuck in charge, any happiness seemed impossible, but I thought proving to Dean that he is worth saving, that all he's ever done was driven by love, not anger, prove to him why I love him." His voice betrays him by cracking on the last words. Still new to his mouth and his ears.

Cas searches Sam's face for any sort of shock or surprise but finds none. Instead, there’s a kind understanding that only Sam would have.

Sam sighs and says, "That's why." he continues as Cas' head tilts, "When we faced Chuck, he called Dean the ultimate killer but Dean just walked past him, no anger or malice, and just said 'that's not who I am'. It was because of you. He must have finally started to see himself the way you see him. How we all see him."

Cas brightens at that, looking back over at Dean, "Then it worked. The only thing I ever wanted was for Dean to love himself. I didn't ever think I'd be enough. That how I feel about him was enough after everything...after every time I tried to prove it. It was never enough before."

Sam smiles warmly, "You were enough, Cas. I've been trying almost our whole lives to get Dean to believe he wasn't a killer, that his life was worth more. I think we all tried, but you got through to him. He tried so hard after you...he tried but I could tell he was forcing it. Tonight, before you got here, it sounded like he'd given up. It sounded like the last time we lost you.” Sam shakes his head, trying to push away the image of Dean plunging a syringe into his heart, “Cas…every time we lost you it's been hard. For me too, but for Dean... it's different, each time it was different. He’d close himself off. He’d lose all faith. He’d give up. He’d want to die. I think...I think that he loves you more than he lets on. He's better when you're back. He's only happy when you're back."

Cas looks back over at Sam, a trace of a smile, "I know. I always felt it, just... well", he huffs, "We both know he's not one for words. But I know how he feels. I think his fear was more so in having something to lose. We’ve lost each other too many times."

The fire is dying down with the bodies not quite recognizable. Sam collects their gear into Baby's trunk. Cas walks out of the barn carrying Dean as if he's as light as a feather. Sam offers to drive Baby back to the bunker if Cas wants to fly Dean back instead. Cas nods and another flutter of wings echoes in the space left behind. Sam climbs into Baby, places his hands tightly on the wheel, closes his eyes, and prays to Jack.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours later, Dean wakes up. He slowly realizes he's back in the bunker, he's in his room, there's no pain in his back, and his hand is being held. He looks over to meet gleaming blue eyes he thought he’d never see again and can barely get anything out. “Cas... but how... you...?” and just pulls him into an awkwardly angled hug but holds on so tightly. It's just them. He doesn't have a time limit.

Dean feels as Cas inhales to explain but Dean cuts him off with “It doesn’t matter how. Is this real? Are you really back? For good."

Cas smiles as if his true happiness reaches a new level and simply says, “Hello, Dean." tightening his embrace, "Yes, Jack brought me back-- new and improved”.

Dean holds him and breathes in that familiar ozone smell, feels the pulse of grace within him stronger than before, something only he seems to be able to feel. "I thought I lost you forever. I thought you...wait," he pulls back to look at Cas again, "Didn't I die? I was in heaven, but it felt...wrong, you were there but you didn't come to see me, Bobby was there but he didn't even hug me after... what? 8 years?! No one else showed up. I just drove to a bridge…Tell me you didn't make a deal or -" his face freezes and his entire body goes tense, "Where's Sam?"

"No, you didn't die. Sam prayed to Jack and I came straight to you. You're healed but the blood loss left you pretty lethargic; though, I think that was your own exhaustion. Sam’s fine, he took the Impala. Should be here soon. You’re safe, it was just a dream. Those boys are back with their mother. I healed her. Altered their memories. Everyone's safe now. Sam told me everything that happened since...I...," a brief sadness flashes in his eyes before he brightens and smiles at Dean, "I knew you would save the world."

“I’ve been trying to find a way into the Empty for months, Cas. I…I read everything I could find but there was barely anything. I tried to use your blood from the sigil to summon you like what Nick tried to do but I guess I didn’t get the ingredients right or I don’t know…nothing worked. Jack never answered any of my prayers but I kept asking him to bring you back. I tried--…”

“Dean.” The tone over that one syllable calmed Dean the same way only Cas has always managed to be able to do.

Cas continued, “I’m back. Jack only recently was able to get me back but he heard your prayers. It took a lot of time and bargaining to get me and as many angels as we could save back out. The Shadow’s asleep again. I’m back and I’m not going anywhere. This is my home. I’m home.”

Dean sits processing this. Shaking off the fake heaven and submerging himself in Cas being alive and here. Now. In his grasp. He doesn't know how he gets to have a second...or seventh? chance but all that matters is everyone he loves, everyone he cares about is safe.

Dean meets Cas’s eyes and stares into the bright, deep blue he's fallen in love with so many times, eyes that have seen every part of who he is, good and bad, and says, “I love you too, Cas.”

Cas smiles very much like he did before the Empty was summoned but without tears because the one thing he wants is right in front of him. Looking at him like he is the most important being in every possible alternate universe. Still so beautiful.

Dean's eyes drift to Cas's lips as they have many times before, asking the same question Cas has yet to answer. Cas places a hand behind the base of Dean's neck, his fingers warm and strong as they pull Dean closer. Finally, their lips come together and it feels like no other kiss either of them has ever had. It feels like swirling grace entangling into his soul; it feels like being healed. It feels like every jagged piece of each other is clicking into place, completing and filling what was empty and longing before. It feels like being saved.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam parks in the garage and leaves everything as-is to deal with later. He heads down the hallway to check on Dean when suddenly the overhead lights flicker but before he can run for iron or salt, the bulbs burst. First the one over Dean's door, then a few more heading his direction, then nothing. Sam relaxes and sighs deeply, “Finally!”

[little-butterfly-writes]

Hi love, i have an idea for our beloved scientist lucien from mlqc. If its okay i would like to request a oneshot about reader being so jealous that she even cry and lucien reassure her , smut lucien x mc ✨

A Jealous You

Hey darling, this was such a delicious request. I got a bit carried away because I can relate to the jealousy and insecurities.

Wordcount - 1844

Warnings - NSFW!!!, Jealousy, Insecurities, Refusal of a few meals, Unprotected vaginal sex, internal cumshot, oral sex (female receiving)

A/N - I named the other woman Hana, sorry to anyone with that name! You are MC.

I watch from behind the pillar in Lucien's lab. A woman is talking to him in his office. It looks like she works here, she's wearing a white lab coat similar to Lucien's.

I wait until she leaves before going into his office. Lucien greets me with a smile before wrapping his arms around my waist. "Hello, my little butterfly." He kisses my forehead. "Did you have fun spying on me?" He asks.

My eyes go wide at the question. Lucien chuckles softly, holding me close. "I didn't know that you saw me." I mumble, resting my head on his chest. "You can't hide from me, baby." He coos gently. "Who was that, Lulu?" I ask, looking up at him. "She's an intern that just graduated. She'll be here for a month." He answers. I sigh softly, placing my palm on his chest as he gently sways me. "Don't worry, my eyes are only on you." Lucien says.

We stay like that for a few minutes before packing up to go home. We spent the night cuddling together in our apartment.

The next morning, I woke up to an empty bed. I checked my phone to see that Lucien had to go to the lab because the intern made a small accident. I groan and get up, stumbling into the bathroom.

I look at my reflection. 'That woman has prettier hair than I do. Her body is so nice too, she's stunning,' I think to myself. My nitpicking goes on in my mind until I hear the front door open.

I go outside to the living room, wearing my comfy clothes. I can't help but think that the intern doesn't look like this, she's probably wearing nice clothes and looking pretty.

In a sour mood, I start up some tea in hopes it'll cheer me up a bit. Lucien places a bag on the kitchen island. "I brought breakfast for you." He wraps his arms around my waist. I sigh, melting into his arms. Lucien kisses my cheek.

He pauses for a moment, looking at me deeply. "Have you been crying?" He asks, voice full of concern. I shake my head 'no'. "Don't lie to me, MC, your eyes are red."

I sigh, looking back at him. "Yes, I was. I just saw a sad video about a puppy and got a bit sad." I lied. Lucien nods, kissing my cheek again before placing the pastry on a plate. I stare at the food, thinking about how that lady must not eat pastries whenever she wants. I shake my head, returning to my tea.

Another day passes, my mind filled with doubt and insecurities. I haven't eaten as much as I usually do. Lucien seems worried, but I keep telling him I'm fine. He doesn't press, but he definitely knows something's wrong.

I walk into Lucien's office, seeing the intern. Lucien walks up to me, placing a hand on the small of my back. "Hana, this is MC. MC, this is the intern I told you about." Lucien's introduction finally gives me a name.

Hana. What a beautiful name...a lot better than mine.

I force a smile. "Oh, Professor was talking about me?" Hana says, voice sweet like honey. My jaw clenches, of course it's melodious. My nose stings, prickling up to my eyes. I force myself to extend my hand, almost robotically. "Nice to meet you." I say, attempting to keep a steady voice.

We finish exchanging pleasantries, Hana leaves with a cheerful goodbye to Lucien. The second she's out, I let a quiet breath of air out. Lucien turns to me, hand still on my back. "My love, when will you tell me what's wrong?" He asks, rubbing my brow with his thumb. "I'm fine, Lucien. I promise. If anything comes up, I'll tell you." He sighs, pressing his forehead to mine. "If you say so." Lucien pecks my lips.

While walking out, the dean of the university nearby stops us. "Hey, Professor Lucien! Here's an invitation to the charity gala the school's hosting. You and your girlfriend should join us!" He slightly pleads. Lucien chuckles, holding me by my waist. "It's Saturday evening, correct? We'll be there." Lucien confirms. I nod along to his statement. 

Saturday night rolls around. Lucien bought me a new dress to wear to the gala. Donning the dress, I apply some light makeup as Lucien gets ready.

As soon as we arrive, my eyes are drawn to Hana. She's wearing a beautiful dress that hugs her body, strapless and showing off cleavage. The light lavender color matches Lucien's eyes, her makeup complimenting it. Black hair curled perfectly lands on milky skin.

I sigh, feeling simple. Unworthy to be by Lucien's side. Hana's perfect compared to me. I squeeze Lucien's hand tighter. "We'll say hello to the dean, maybe get a dessert and then we can go. Is that okay?" He says while wrapping an arm around my waist once more.

I nod, swallowing hard and moving to go see the dean. As we wait to talk to him, Hana comes up to us. Lucien's hand is now interlaced with mine. "Lucien, I'm going to get a drink. Be right back." I say, letting go of his hand. I move to grab some water, staying close with my back turned so I can listen in on them.

Everything I hear from them is mumbled. There's so many people talking near me. I focus, catching Hana's words. "Lulu, I know you have a girlfriend, but I really think we should be together. I mean, we're both scientists and work with each other...I think I'm better for you." 

My heart sinks. She's right, she is better for him. I choke back a sob, blinking tears back furiously. Lucien's voice comes up clear, "With your position, you should call me Professor Lucien. And my relationship with MC is perfect, I love her for who she is and she loves me the same way. Do not try and convince me that you are better than her." His voice is still sweet, but a lot firmer. 

I hear her sigh, clopping off in high heels. I hand the glass back to the waiter, moving towards the exit.

Lucien follows me, quick by my side. "MC, wait." He pulls me into his arms. I hide my face in his chest. "Lucien, I don't want to stay. I'm going to go home." I cry. He cradles me gently, leading me outside. "I know, baby. I'll take us home." He hushes.

The car ride home is silent. Lucien holds onto my hand as he drives while I look out the window, tears streaming quietly. 

Lucien holds me close as we walk up to my apartment. I let out a few sobs, trying to stay quiet. 

We walk in, Lucien locking the front door. "Let's go wipe your makeup off." He whispers. I nod, going into the bathroom and washing my face. When I walk out Lucien is in the bedroom. Waiting for me.

I walk closer, stopping to look at myself in the full-length mirror. Lucien comes up behind me, wrapping both arms around me. "Is this what's been upsetting you?" He asks, rubbing circles on my stomach. I let out a small yes. Lucien sighs into my hair, kissing there softly.

"I know you are jealous of her. I want you to know that you're all I want." He kisses my temple. I breathe in deep, relaxing back in his arms. "You're the only one for me, there's no one else I want to love." The whisper in my ear makes me tear up again. "But there's so many better people than me." I choke out.

"To me, you're the most gorgeous woman I know. Your heart is always accepting of anyone in need. Your intelligence is brilliant to matter what. I'm proud to call you mine." Lucien turns me around, kissing the corner of my eye. He unzips my dress, slowly. It's like he's unwrapping a fragile gift. I wrap my arms around his neck after he removes my bra. "Thank you, Lucien. I love you." I sigh. Lucien hums, grabbing my rear and squeezing lightly. 

Lucien lays me gently on the center of the bed. "I love you too, my love. My one and only." He kisses down my sternum, moving to my stomach. "My soulmate. Mine. So gorgeous, inside and out." Lucien removes my panties softly, happily staring at my core. I try to shift my legs closer, but Lucien holds my thighs apart with a tut. 

"No baby, let me love you." The words a honeyed murmur against my legs. He kisses up my thigh, ending them on my clit. Lucien goes for another, licking a long stripe against my slit. I moan when his tongue trails my labia before shoving his tongue into my sex. The wet muscle thrusts slowly, his thumb pressed on my sensitive nub. Loud cries escape my throat as he licks me up faster. I feel like withering away from the tortuous pleasure. Just as I'm about to reach my climax, Lucien pulls away. He wipes away the arousal covering his chin. I whine, wanting my orgasm he tempted me to. 

"My love even tastes sweet. What else could I need in a partner when I have you?" Dark lust swims in his eyes. I sit up and help him undress, slowly becoming impatient. Lucien lays me back down, working himself in his hand. The first inch he slides in burns slightly, but I want more. I hold onto him tight, not wanting him to leave me. He waits a minute for my tight heat to adjust to him before pulling back, only for him to push back in.

I whine, my hips bucking up for more. Lucien kisses me, fingers toying with my sensitive nipples. His thrust steadily increases speed, his groans sounding against my skin. Lucien strokes my hair away from my face. I dig my fingers in his shoulder, leaving little crescents there.

A particularly hard thrust makes me moan loudly. "Are you almost there?" He sweetly asks, moving his thumb back to my bundle of nerves with another hard thrust. As a response, I squeak, my orgasm surprising me as I clench around him. It must trigger him as well, hearing his deep grunt. We stay like that for a few minutes, panting and holding each other. The warm liquid is already leaking out of me.

Lucien pulls out, leaving the room. He comes back seconds later with a wet cloth, gently wiping sweat and mixed essence from my body. He delivers a sweet kiss as he puts some clean panties on me. Lucien goes back to the bathroom to clean himself off. I move under the covers, already feeling exhausted from tonight. 

Lucien comes back, wearing his briefs and snuggling up to me under the covers. "No matter what, I will love you forever. You are mine, and I am yours. You are the only woman for me."

[headinthestaticsky]

Frozen Within the Night Wind: Jasper Hale x Fleur Swan, Chapter 8.

None of the characters in Twilight belong to me, All rights go to Stephenie Meyer!

Authors Note: I am SO sorry I didn't post chapter's when I said I would, I needed a little break from writing, I hope you all can understand. This is a shorter chapter for now.

"Nothing really changed you've got my heart. I found a new place but it's not a brand new start. I guess I'll be alright with it, Can't fight with it. Looks like you're coming here tonight."

Must Have by, Joni Payne

Jake and the pack left soon after with Bella right on their trail, Edward stalked off somewhere. The Cullens and I however all sat in Carlisle's office, a radiating tension could be felt in every corner of the room. Jasper's grip on my hand tightened, and his face was fixed with dread and anger. I eyed Rosalie for a second, hoping she would get the message I was trying to send.

"Hey, why don't we give these two a moment to talk?" Rosalie suggested. The rest of the Cullen's nodded and left the room, closing the door quietly behind them. I rested my head on his shoulder and sighed.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Not really no." He replied I could sense a tinge of attitude in his voice. He stood up and paced around the room.

"Dumb question I know..." I didn't really know what else to say, he had told me how he turned when he revealed he was a vampire to me. It had to bring back some bad memories.

"Newborns are...deadlier than any other vampire, no matter how powerful the gift of another vampire is."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes, sighing again instead...

"Ugh was I really going to get this lecture again?" I thought to myself.

"I know Jasper." I tried to say it in a way that wasn't rude... but from the look on his face it came out quite, dryly.

"Don't start that." He snapped and stopped pacing to look at me.

"Don't start what?"

"Every time I explain the basics of a newborn you act like that."

"Jazz..."

"Don't "Jazz" me!"

"Look... it's only because I already fucking know what they are... I don't know if you forgot but am one."

"And?"

"And!? I don't need to be reminded of how unpredictable I can be! I get it in the beginning when I was first changed but...I can't stand to hear it anymore...you make me feel like a monster."

"You need to know the things you're capable of."

"I KNOW WHAT I'M CAPABLE OF YOU TELL ME ALL THE TIME!" I said standing up and stopping right in front of him.

"Obviously you don't," Jasper replied, his voice was riddled with anger.

"What is that suppose to mean?"

"I mean you are still living with your father... you're going to tell me you haven't been tempted by his scent once?"

I didn't say anything... I knew what I wanted to say would be a lie.

"Yeah... I thought so."

"I do know something..." I snide in a condescending tone.

"Yeah? What's that?"

"I have more control over my blood lust than you... That's pretty transparent to everyone else here. You would rip out my Dad's throat out if he as much as scrap on the arm."

I couldn't stop myself from spewing those words out, but I was hurt... I felt the need to protect myself. He hit below the belt for me so I tried to do the same thing with him. The look on his face proved that it worked. Regret soon filled my body, the anger simmered down.

"Jasper..." he stormed off before I could say anything else.

"Oh, man..." I muttered to myself, I slid back onto the couch and rested my head on both of my hands, my engagement ring was in my line of view. It made me feel even worse.

"Fleur?" It was a voice I didn't hear often, I looked up and saw Dean looking at me.

"I really screwed up this time Dean." I heard him shuffle beside me.

"You were protecting yourself...you thought the words he was saying at first were an attack on you."

"Who wouldn't be hurt by someone describing things so vile that are true about you Dean? I mean... the number of times I've been tempted to completely drain the blood of my father and friends around me is horrible... I am disgusting..."

"You're not disgusting, you're just learning...and I am too still to this day. Moping about it isn't going to help you, we all saw where that got us with Edward a year ago."

"I know you're right...but."

"But what?"

"The things I said to Jasper...you should've seen the look on his face... I really hurt him."

"Fleur, he's a big boy... he just needs to cool off. You do too, talk when you both are a bit more level-headed."

"Yeah... that's probably a good idea... I'll see you guys tomorrow, I'm going to go out for a drive." I hugged Dean and made it out of Carlisle's office.

The looks on the faces of the Cullen's told me they heard what happened. I didn't even acknowledge them and soon left. Mountains of frustration and anger had finally been taken out inside of me. It was like a powerful earthquake hit, the fake facade of each inch on the mountain crumbled to the ground. I took it out on the wrong person... one who was just trying to help me. I texted my father telling him I would be spending the night at the Cullens so he didn't wait up on me. I didn't even know where I wanted to go, so I just drove around aimlessly on the highway in complete silence. It was calming to be by myself for a bit. But the anger and guilt still crept up behind me.

I tried to justify why I said the things I did, he sounded like a broken record to me. Constantly reminding me of the things I hate about myself... It felt like I was going insane. But... I knew his past going into a relationship... how he was changed, the things he was forced to do. What was happened now must've brought something up that he was constantly trying to forget. It must've terrified him, we didn't even fully know who was behind it, there were too many suspects to decide who it really was. That probably didn't help with anything either. I knew tomorrow we would have to train the wolves to fight this army... hopefully everything would go well.

Timeskip: A day later.

I arrived later than everyone else, the only one that was missing was Edward. Jasper and I met eyes quickly before I darted them down to the ground. I walked and stood next to him, before I could say anything to him he walked away.

"Emmett... come here, why don't we warm up before the wolves get here."

"Bring it." Emmett said, a smirk was on his face and he was cracking his knuckles.

Three seconds later, Emmett was flying through the air and landed hard on the ground. I walked over to Rosalie who's face was in shock.

"I guess he's still mad then?" She inquired.

"Yeah..." I saw Edward and Bella pull up next to my car.

"He sure is..."

"AGAIN!"

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

We've Got Tonight - Ch 3

Summary: “It’s not your job to do this, Andy. You make people happy. I was in the diner all of ten minutes, and you knew exactly how to get me to smile. You do normal, real things like garden and sing karaoke. Saving the world is my job, Sam’s job. Sometimes it’s even Cas’s job, but it’s not yours.”

Inspired by Bob Seger’s “We’ve Got Tonight”

Warnings: Major Character Death, More Major Character Deaths (sort of?), higher than show level violence, blood, light smutting, language, demons, apocalypse, inferred suicide, cult activity.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: This story is set hazily around season 8. Just squint a little, and it’ll settle in somewhere. I wrote this story after certain big revelations in the show, but before other big ones; you’ll most likely be able to tell which. I play with time a bit in the story itself, so if things seem out of order, they are. Hopefully, by the end, all the pieces will fit together.

What the hell, let’s give it a shot.

Image and major edits by the incomparable @there-must-be-a-lock . Heavy editing and cheering by @thoughtslikeaminefield . Thank you both so much.

Word Count: Ch 3 - 1637

In case you missed it: Chapter 2 ItMightHaveBeenintentional’s Masterlist

...

We’ve Got Tonight

Chapter 3

One month is not enough time to get used to nights in the bunker, she thinks as she stares at the back of Dean’s door. It’s too sterile, too unnatural, with the quiet permeating every crevice and recess.

There must be some sort of muffling spell or noise cancellation technology… or maybe just really good insulation. She’s used to the chatter of customers, the ding of the door chime, the clatter of plates, and the sloshing of the dishwasher. She’s never had to listen to herself think this much before, and she freely admits she is not a fan.

It’s been about four hours since Dean stormed out. “I’m done,” he said, but she doubts she’ll have to wait much longer. Those last words he shouted before Castiel came in, the way he gripped her and she had to force herself not to cling right back, tells her they aren’t finished, either with their argument or each other.

Muffled footsteps, the only sound besides her heart beat and non-stop internal monologue, let her know moments before the doorknob turns that Dean is back. The door swings open, not with the angry force she’s expecting, but with the same weary resignation that bows his shoulders as he steps into his room and shrugs off his jacket.

His eyes meet hers for an eternity, then he deliberately takes two more steps forward and closes the door firmly behind him.

She’s in his arms without a moment’s hesitation, her mouth on his, devouring him with every bit of desperation she possesses. He tastes of scotch, and she can picture him sitting despondently at the local watering hole, glaring balefully at a single glass of liquor for hours.

His arms constrict automatically until she’s equally breathless from his embrace as she is from the kiss. Just when she thinks he may have to physically hold her up, Dean pulls away just far enough to stare hard into her eyes, his expression daring her to challenge his next words.

“We are not done talking. You are going to tell me every detail of your deal, whether you like it or not. And don’t think for a second I’m going to let you go through with it. Choices be damned, Andy, this isn’t just about you anymore, and you know it.”

She refrains from telling him how much of a dad vibe he’s giving off as she shoves his flannel from his shoulders and pulls his face back to hers, clenching a handful of his t-shirt in a death grip.

Neither of them is gentle as they remove clothing and stagger their way to his bed; she knows they don’t have the time to be, and he suspects as much but doesn’t say so aloud. Neither is willing to ruin their precious remaining moments together by bringing up something as distasteful as reality. Nails score flesh, fingers bruise limbs, even their lips come away with faint traces of blood from accidental clashes with teeth.

“How long?” he rasps, his lips ghosting over her sternum. Her nails dredge shallow furrows across the backs of his thighs as he pulls back before thrusting hard, driving her into his mattress. “How long have we got?”

She tugs his mouth down to her breast, hissing as his teeth scrape and tug. Her fingers thread into his hair, holding him in place, silently willing him to let the subject go. She can’t answer him. She’s had a month with him, and while she’d rather have something closer to a lifetime, all she’s asking now is two more uninterrupted, untainted hours.

If she tells him, then the shortness of their time becomes real, everything becomes devastatingly real. Here in the bunker that is far too quiet for her own peace of mind, she can pretend the outside world and all it’s insane occultists and apocalypses and demons and deals don’t exist. She can pretend it’s just her and Dean, and nothing else bad is waiting on the other side of the horizon.

And he’d try to stop her. And probably succeed. So, no. She can’t tell him.

It’s some time before both of them are sated enough to lie relatively still. She keeps her back to him, knowing if she looks in his eyes she is liable to spill every bit of information she has left, and she does not want a repeat of the scene from earlier. Once was more than enough.

“I’m waiting, Andy.”

We all have to learn to live with disappointment, hun, she thinks. Aloud, she sighs and pushes herself back until her shoulder blades press against his chest. She’s been cold since they first brought her to the bunker, and his warmth is almost enough to make her forget that she’s chilled to her marrow. She shivers, forcing a partition up in her mind to keep out thoughts of her impending departure. She’s going to wait until he’s asleep, then head out to make the last rendezvous.

Sunrise, Dean, she thinks, despite her best efforts. I’ve got til sunrise. We’ve got less than that.

Luckily, she’s had enough caffeine to give a draft horse the shakes, and he’s running on three hours sleep for the last couple of days, so he should pass out pretty soon. The last thing she needs is the infamous Winchester Interference with her plans.

With the confidence that comes from knowing she’s right at the end of everything, Andy rolls over and pulls Dean’s head down so his cheek rests between her breasts, cradling him like a child and stroking his hair just as she’s longed to do since he strolled into her diner and winked at her over a stack of pancakes. He doesn’t protest, doesn’t even pretend to resist, instead nuzzling deeper in her embrace, and that’s when she really knows she’s wounded him far more deeply than she should have been capable.

“It was only supposed to be a fling,” she remarks to the top of his head as she runs her nails over the base of his skull. He shivers, pulling the blanket over them up to his chin and sliding his arms around her waist. His shoulder lies on her stomach, its weight sitting comfortably against her belly. “The first time I met you, you declared your love for me because I brought you bacon, for God’s sake. At four in the afternoon. You were supposed to be a good time, Dean, one good night, and then ride on out of town like a good boy.”

“You’d already be dead if you hadn’t given me your number,” he points out. For once, his lascivious nature is dormant, and he doesn’t so much as sneak a stray lick or grope, despite his optimal position. She strokes her thumb down the side of his jaw, scrubbing over several days’ worth of stubble that covers his cheeks. He turns his face into her touch, sliding his nose against the sensitive skin under her breast, and then it’s her turn to shiver.

“Andy, before you do anything stupid, anything else stupid, I need to tell you...I need you to know that I...”

“No, you don’t,” she chides, cutting him off before he can choke out any more ill-advised words. She can’t hear them right now, they would break down every barrier and barricade she’s constructed to hold herself together for these last hours. And, anyway, he can’t possibly mean them. They barely know each other. “But you could. I think both of us might have, eventually. So, we have that, at least.”

Her ribs creak at the sudden tightening of his grip, and she squirms until he relents enough to allow her breathing to return to normal.

“It’s not your job to do this, Andy. You make people happy. I was in the diner all of ten minutes, and you knew exactly how to get me to smile. You do normal, real things like garden and sing karaoke. Saving the world is my job, Sam’s job. Sometimes it’s even Cas’s job, but it’s not yours.”

His words end on something that she would never in a thousand years tell him sounds like a crack. She silently strokes the velvety hairs on the back of his neck, waiting for him to finish clearing his throat.

“Don’t try to be the hero; it never works out for anyone involved, even the people you’re trying to save.”

“Don’t start with me, Dean Winchester. Here we are, having a nice moment, and I will not let you ruin the time we have left with arbitrary things like depth and honesty.”

The air system hisses soothingly in the background, but she won’t let herself be soothed. This time left is for him, she’s not fooling herself about that any longer. What does she have left but Dean, anyway? She’s got three, four hours left at the most, and this is how she chooses to spend them.

She rolls once more, pulling Dean underneath her until she lies atop him, flush from collarbone to ankles. He watches her, his face soft and open for once, golden and warm in the dim light of the little bedside lamp. His hands move slowly, reverently, to glide over the curve of her jaw and mouth, and she can feel the faint tremors that run through his hands. She kisses his fingers one at a time before lifting her eyes to his.

“No, you don’t,” she repeats, “But you could.” The world needs the Winchesters around a hell of a lot more than it needs her. And while she might make people happy, saving people and hunting things is the Winchesters’ family business. This is her only chance to make sure they and the world stick around long enough for that to keep happening. ...

Chapter 4