#dean gets taught how to work jobs and cases while sam is allowed to be a kid

[the-mpreg-guy]

Your ask and follow up post about Dean being forced into the role of an idealised Mary mother figure and Sam perpetuating Johns parentification of Dean because that was the version of Dean he relied on and grew up with, thus stepping into the role of 'John' literally blew my hair back,,, MOTHER BROTHER DEAN, IM CLUTCHING MY HEAD IM CRAWLING UP THE WALLS!!!!!! Also, in a way, I think Dean stepping into the role of nurturer and caregiver (in essence, a maternal role) for Sam is often the root of peoples exploration of Dean and his gendered identity. Like, on one hand he's this hyper masculine man's man gun toting hunter, but on the other he's the closest thing his baby brother has to a maternal presence. Which begs the question, which act is a performance? (BOTH!!! BOTH ARE GENDERED PERFORMANCES) Am I making sense???

This has been sitting in my inbox for a while bc I enjoy rotating it. A lot of people like to bring up Dean perpetuating anger and violence (which Imo he doesn't in the way people say he does but that's another post), but they constantly miss the fact that the most damaging cycle that Sam and Dean BOTH perpetuate is Dean's parentification. It's damaging for Dean because he's never going to pick his best interests over protecting Sam, and it's damaging for Sam because it locks him in this cycle of "why won't you trust me" without ever setting himself up as a peer to Dean.

Re: gender performance, I do find it fascinating that John's parentification in Dean manifests in Dean overcompensating in his masculinity. You could argue that it's John specifically modeling that for him, BUT I could also see a case for Dean trying to balance the act being Sam's parent and John's Mary replacement with trying to be his own person and it manifests in him modeling his behavior off what he assumes masculinity should be.

[loserchildhotpants]

Another destiel prompt from Twitter; say they’re dancing together, still trying to hide their feelings for each other, and because of that, avoiding eye-contract, the best the can, to ensure that the other character doesn’t notice how attracted they are to them (from this prompt list)

“Did you just turn her down?” Dean asks incredulously; Sam is busy sipping champagne next to him, but his eyebrows convey that he would also like clarification on whatever social interaction it is that Cas just had.

They’re all dressed to the nines, stuck at a posh wedding service until they solve this rogue Cupid case; it’s a low-risk case, but a case is a case, and they’ve got it well in hand.

Dean’s not been this dressed up since Bela stuffed him in a monkey suit, and he’d wager the same applies to Sam, but this is certainly the first either of them have ever seen Cas in anything other than his cubicle-life uniform.

Cas’ suit is sharp, pressed, striking, and he’s wearing a cerulean blue tie that has everyone meeting eyes with him coming up short. Predictably, he doesn’t know what to do with the attention, so he mostly apologizes awkwardly for those he seems to startle and thanks the handsy old ladies that liken him to long dead husbands.

With two flutes of bubbly meant for Dean and himself, Cas crossed the great hall, seemed to be stopped by a gorgeous young woman with dark hair, in a low-cut dress and a very promising smirk, but whatever exchange happened left her dejected.

“She asked me to dance,” Castiel tells Dean, passing him his flute, “I regretfully informed her that I don’t know how.”

“You can’t manage a simple little box-step for that hot piece? She was practically drooling, lookin’ at you!”

“We’re on a case,” he says, as though it’s a valid excuse.

“Nuh-unh,” Dean answers, shaking his head and putting his drink down on a nearby table, “That’s - that was a travesty, what I just witnessed. Babes are fuckin’ wasted on you, Cas.”

“She’s a fully grown woman, Dean,” Castiel corrects him, eyebrows scrunched in confusion as he brings his glass to his lips, “Besides, I’d only be wasting her time. I cannot dance, and I’d not be amenable to having relations with her, so it’s better I -”

“Not amenable?” Dean chokes out disbelievingly, “Who the fuck are you holdin’ out for?! Angelina Jolie?”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“It’s a shame you don’t know how to dance, though,” Sam interjects, seeing by the vein throbbing in his forehead that Dean is about to start shouting about beautiful women and Cas’ ineptitudes, “I could teach you, if you want.”

Castiel slants his mouth at Sam, and Sam smiles gently back at him, “I know it doesn’t sound like fun, but, honestly? It’s a good skill to have, and worst case scenario is that you brighten someone’s evening.”

Appealing to his kind nature is the right call; Cas can’t argue that point, so he puts his champagne down and walks up to Sam.

“Very well. Where do we begin?”

“Oh - we’ll probably wanna go somewhere more private, so we can move a little more freely.”

At Sam’s behest, Dean and Cas follow him across the great hall, out onto a spacious balcony, out of the way of most everyone. Double glass doors lead out to it, and flowers line stone railing; no moon is visible from where they are in the mansion, but the sky is bright with stars, and that’s light enough.

While Sam does a fine job of teaching Castiel, and Castiel is a very quick study, they struggle with their height difference while Dean tells them about their height difference, unhelpfully and repeatedly.

Eventually, Sam turns to Dean, and says, “you should step in, man.”

“What? I’m not short,” Dean pouts grumpily.

“No, but you’re at least shorter than me - it’ll make leading a little easier for him.”

Rolling his eyes as though he’s actually put out, Dean peels himself from the French window he’d been leaning on, and takes Sam’s place.

Even and paced, Castiel and Dean take a few turns around the balcony, and Sam is impressed, informing Castiel that it took him a full week of practice to stop tripping over his own feet.

“To be fair, you were still growing into them at the time” Dean jokes.

In a rare moment of familial levity between them, Sam laughs, and Dean smiles at him - all of that makes Cas smile too, and then Sam’s phone rings.

“Oh - it’s Natalie,” Sam lets them know, “She wants eyes on the dance floor for a minute - I’ll take care of it - Cas, you’re doing great, don’t stop practicing!”

To both Dean and Cas’ surprise and humor, Sam appears genuinely bereft to leave the lesson. They both seem inclined to respect Sam’s wishes, though, so they take another turn.

“You gotta stop glancing down,” Dean commands.

Flashing his eyes back up at Dean, Cas mutters, “it’s reflexive. I apologize.”

“Nah, it’s fine, man. You’ve got it,” Dean assures him, “Now that you know how to, you gonna ask that girl to dance?”

“Perhaps,” Cas tries to shrug, determinedly keeping his eyes up, “I feel certain she has moved on in her pursuits, but if I pass her again, I will offer a dance.”

“You know how?”

“Now, yes.”

“No, I mean do you know how to ask a girl to dance?”

“Is there a particular ritual involved?”

Exhaling a laugh, Dean brings them to a stop, and explains, “okay - I’m gonna show you how it’s done, alright? Then I’ll lead.”

“Understood,” Cas tells him with serious conviction, studious and militant.

Dean steps back and away, and they wait for the band’s dreamy rendition of The Way You Look Tonight to end before proceeding.

As The Book of Love begins, the live orchestra swells from inside the hall, Dean bows just a little at the waist, with his right arm crossing his chest, but his head up, and he inquires politely, “Castiel, may I have this dance?”

Tilting his head curiously, Castiel needlessly replies, “yes, Dean, of course.”

Smiling his most winning smile, Dean straightens up, offers his hand, and nods approvingly when Castiel all but glides into step with him.

He keeps the tempo slow, but incorporates making circles, turning them ‘round and ‘round the stone and marble balcony, up and down it’s length; Cas follows him easily, trusting Dean’s direction, and always operating on a similar wavelength - Dean thinks that maybe they dance together well because they fight together well.

“This is nice, Dean,” Castiel remarks softly.

A dusting of rosiness rises up in Dean’s face; he pulls Cas a little closer to better obscure his face from scrutiny, clears his throat and makes some noncommittal noise that could be agreement or indifference.

“You’re the one who taught Sam to waltz,” Castiel surmises conversationally.

“Yeah,” Dean answers.

“How is it that you came to learn it?”

“Eh, you’d be surprised what you learn on the job,” Dean replies easily, pulling away enough to spin Cas, and then move close in again.

“... you just spun me.”

“Yeah, I was there,” Dean jokes, smirking proudly down at Cas; “Don’t worry, when you get to be a seasoned pro like me, you can snazzy up your waltz too. Maybe next you can learn to salsa or tango.”

In a moment of silence between them, Dean follows Cas’ eyes to their clasped hands; Dean’s not sure what Cas is seeing, but whatever it is, it’s making Dean nervous.

“See now what that lovely lady wanted? Feel bad yet?” Dean prompts.

Castiel’s electric eyes refocus on him, startling him with their intensity just as they had the wedding guests that were strangers to Cas, “I do understand now. However, perhaps it’s the soldier in me, but I find I much prefer following than leading.”

“Ah, that’s just ‘cause I’m a great lead,” Dean teases playfully.

“Yes, you are,” Castiel reinforces, eyes flickering between Dean’s, “You do know I would follow your lead anywhere, don’t you?”

“Christ, Cas,” Dean swears, trying to politely move his too-warm face out of view.

“Really, Dean,” Castiel adds, squeezing Dean’s hand where they’re clasped; when that doesn’t work immediately, he takes advantage of a circling turn to near their faces - their noses almost bump, and Dean has no choice but to look into Castiel’s eyes, “I want you to know. You do know, don’t you?”

Swallowing roughly, feeling possibly feverish, Dean down, then away, “... you gotta stop saying shit like that, Cas.”

“Why?” he wonders, “It’s only the truth.”

Clearing his throat again - a nervous tic he didn’t realize he had until right then - he mumbles back, “yeah, well… I talk big, but I’m flyin’ blind, so maybe don’t follow me everywhere.”

“I’m a soldier, Dean. A Commander, actually. When I delivered you to the convent where Sam and Ruby were against the wishes of Heaven, I chose you. I pledged my allegiance to an Earthly King over an absent God, and I knew what I was doing when I did,” their steps slow down as Dean takes that in, “All I knew was that… I had faith in you.”

At that, Dean stops moving altogether, his hand slides down from Cas’ shoulder blade to the cinch of his waist, and he allows their joined hands to wilt a bit lower, but he doesn’t let go.

It seems then that Cas is the one having trouble keeping Dean’s gaze.

He looks to some faraway place over Dean’s shoulder, and rasps, “I still do. So, yes, Dean. I will follow you everywhere you lead, for however long you allow me to. I don’t mind flying blind if I’m flying with you.”

“Cas…”

With difficulty, Castiel looks back into Dean’s eyes, and Dean feels his heart thud in his ears. He wonders to himself if Cas can hear it, or feel it, but all Cas does is stare intently back at him, maybe waiting for Dean to confirm or deny something.

“Guys!”

Dean practically jumps away from Cas, frightened as if he’s been caught doing something untoward, but Cas is unbothered.

“I think I found our guy,” Sam announces, none the wiser, “And I think he brought a friend.”

“Yeah,” Dean affirms gruffly, “Got it.”

Sam turns back around first, through the glass doors, back into the busy hall, and Dean starts after him, a hand already twitching toward his holster, sparing Cas a look from over his shoulder.

The Angel is standing there alone, unmistakably ethereal with a backdrop of twinkling stars and lazy fireflies illuminating him; he’s examining his hand as though Dean may have left a mark or a message on him somehow.

“You comin’, Swayze?”

Cas’ eyes snap to attention again, and his forehead wrinkles, “... I don’t understand that reference,” but he follows after Dean anyway.

He doesn’t seem to notice how Dean clenches and unclenches his corresponding hand, but Dean wouldn’t be able to explain it if he did.

[mlovesstories]

Time is Money

Summary- YN feels ignored by her dad, Sam, so Dean, Mary, and John try to help. 

Warnings: selfish Sam, cussing

Tag List

Ask Box

Masterlist of Masterlists

“Daddy?” YN came into Sam’s study. 

“I’m busy, baby.” He flipped through some paperwork on his desk. 

“But I need help with my math homework.” 

“Ask Dean,” he said dismissively. 

YN sighed and walked out of the room. 

“Beast?” She tiredly approached her uncle. He could tell the defeat in her voice. 

“What’s up, beauty?” Dean used her nickname. 

“Can you help me with my homework?” YN continued looking at the floor. 

“Hey,” he took his finger and lifted her chin. “No pouting. Yes. I can help you. Show me what ya got.” 

After tears and frustration, YN finished her homework. 

“Thank you, beast,” she hugged her uncle. 

“You’ll always be my beauty. Even when you cry.” He smiled. 

“I love you.” 

Sam entered and was about to go to his room when he stopped and told them he was going to bed. Obviously still upset from her evening, YN sulked. 

“Aren’t you going to spend time with her? She had a rough day.” Dean asked. 

“So did I, and I’m exhausted.” Sam ran up the steps of the house. YN’s face fell. 

“It’s okay. Let’s go relax before bedtime.” Dean stroked his thumb over her hand. 

“No thanks.” YN started toward her room when Dean turned her and brought her into his body, her head hitting his ribs. 

“Yes. You need to calm down before bed. Hard day.” 

“Okay.” 

The ten year-old snuggled into her uncle until she fell asleep. Not having school the next day, Dean didn’t wake her to go to her own bed.

“Dad?” YN slowly entered her father’s room the next morning. 

“Huh?” He rolled over. 

“You said we would be going to breakfast today.”

“Oh I’m sorry, sweetie.” He looked at the clock. . I need to go, thanks for waking me up. Business lunch.” Sam shooed her out of the room as he scrambled to get ready. “Bye, YN!” He yelled at her as she sat on the barstool in the kitchen with a small, bland cup of coffee. 

Dean walked in with messy hair.

“Morning! I thought we talked to you about no coffee, beauty?”

“Yeah, well, he was supposed to take me to breakfast, but that didn’t work out. So I made what I knew how to.” 

“Again?” Dean asked, angry at his brother. YN nodded. 

“He had a business meeting and woke up late.” 

“That idiot.” Dean said to himself. “Come on. I have a later shift at the shop. Bring your computer to keep yourself busy while I’m working. We’re going to breakfast.” 

“It’s 11am?”

“Brunch, then. You wanna go or not?” Dean grinned. 

“Can I get chocolate chip pancakes and have some hot chocolate? PLEASE, beast? I’ll be good at the shop, I promise!”

“How can I say no to you?” He sarcastically sighed. 

“Yes!” 

They enjoyed their time together, and she helped Dean at the shop. She loved seeing her grandpa and all the guys she had known since she was little. They spent time with her and showed her how to do things… unlike someone else she knew. 

“Cher!” Benny shouted to get her attention. “You want to help me?” 

Turning from her computer on the desk, her eyes lit up. 

She practically ran to him. 

“Has your uncle taught you about wrenches?”

“Are you kidding? First thing I learned!” YN laughed. 

“Perfect. I need to go under the car. Can you hand them to me?” 

“If i can go under the car too!”

“We’ll see…” Benny rolled his eyes. 

“Sweet! Yes!” 

“Why did you take her to the garage?” Sam grilled his brother when he got home that night. 

“You didn’t tell us you had a meeting and I had work so I had to take her! I can’t leave the kid at home, you know that. Besides, she had a great time like she always does. Dad and Benny were there, what are you so afraid of?”

“Beast?” YN barreled down the stairs. “Can you-“

“I was talking to your uncle.” Sam interrupted her. “You came in the middle of our conversation without even asking if we were talking.” 

“Sorry, Dad. I didn’t know you were home. Never mind.” 

“What do you need? You might as well say it now.” Her father rolled his eyes. 

“I was going to ask Dean if he wanted to throw the football with me…” she was almost in tears from her dad’s cross attitude. 

“He can’t.” Sam growled. 

YN looked to her uncle, confused. 

“It’s okay, pretty girl. Go brush your teeth and then we can. Promise.” He smiled. 

She raced off to do as he asked. 

“YN listens to you.” 

“Well, yeah.” Dean said sarcastically. “I’m awesome.” 

“Whatever. I have a late court hearing. Gotta go.” Sam gathered his brief case and keys before leaving the house. 

John walked in as Sam left. 

“Grandpa!” YN abounded into his arms. 

“Hello, sweets!” He wrapped his long limbs around her. 

“What’s up, Dad?” Dean walked into the foyer. 

“On my way home, brought some food.” 

YN grabbed for it when Dean stopped her. 

“You just brushed your teeth,” he laughed. 

“Fine, fine. I’ll just put it away.”

“Have a candy bar anyway,” her grandpa whispered. 

“I heard that.” Dean said plainly. “Go, i didn’t see a thing.” He smiled at YN.

She scampered into the kitchen with the bag of food. 

“When will Sam get home?” John asked. 

”i don’t know. He never tells us anymore.” Dean shrugged as he led his dad into the living room.

“What?” 

YN walked back into the room and snuggled into her grandpa’s side. 

“He’s gone a lot.” YN looked at him. 

John shook his head in disappointment. 

“How much does Dad make an hour?”

Both men looked at her, confused. 

“Umm, I think he said $40 an hour?” Dean eyed her. 

“That’s a lot of money.” YN sighed. “Now I get why he doesn’t hang out with me,” she started to stand but John grabbed her jacket on instinct and the force of it made her land back on the couch. 

“You are not allowed to say that.” 

“Grandpa, he is always gone. Forget it. I need to go to bed. School tomorrow. Good night.” YN kissed John and Dean on the cheek before running up the stairs to get away from the tension. 

“He’s losing her,” John stared plainly. 

“Yep. I’m more of a dad to her than he is. I pick her up from school, I watch her, I pack her lunch. I don’t mind doing that. She’s my favorite girl, but he should be there for her.” 

“I’ll talk to him,” John groaned. 

Sam was dropping YN off at John and Mary’s house for a sleepover when John asked to speak to him privately. 

“Hey, I wanted to ask you something.”

“What? Dad, I gotta go-“ 

“Exactly.”

“Huh?” Sam titled his head. 

“You’re always going. When was the last time you had a meal with YN?” 

“Oh, don’t placate me.” Sam rolled his eyes. 

“This is my house and you will be respectful!” John growled at his son. 

“UGH,” Sam stomped out of the guest bedroom. “YN! We’re leaving!” He called out for his daughter. 

“What?” She almost ran into him, trying to follow his voice. “We just got here. I’m supposed to spend the night.” 

“We’re leaving.”

“No. Dean said I could and you did too. I got a good grade on my test, and Grandma said she was going to make me waffles. I’m not leaving.” YN turned to walk toward the kitchen. 

“Don’t throw a hissy fit. We got her. Go do your damn stuff. Remember that she is yours, not Dean’s,  not ours. Yours. Get out of here. She doesn’t want you here anyway,” his dad gritted his teeth. 

Sam’s eyes went wide. 

“Fine.” He walked outside of the house with a huff. 

“Come on,” John guided her to the kitchen.”Don’t worry about him. He’s being an ass.” 

“Hey! Language!” Mary grinned. 

“Grandma, don’t worry. He is old, forgets that I’m ten and shouldn’t hear big person words.” YN started laughing. John threw her over his shoulder. 

“Ah!” YN giggled. Her grandpa softly put her on the couch. 

“You know he loves you right?”

“Nah.” YN said, waving him off. “Dean does. He takes me places and lets me have fun. Dad just wants me to do homework.”

“Sam is very driven. He just doesn’t have his priorities right.” 

“Yeah, he DRIVES me crazy.” YN rolled her eyes. 

“He does love you. I promise. Come on, let’s go eat some dinner,” he smiled. 

That night, YN asked if she could do chores to earn some money. 

“Uhhh.” Mary looked good John, confused. 

“Why? We will always provide for you.” John looked at his grand daughter. 

“My dad makes forty dollars an hour. I need forty dollars so that we can hang out. I’ve already gotten twenty.” 

Her grandparents’ eyes went wide. 

“You don’t have to-“

“Yes, I do. He always says an hour is worth forty dollars to him. So i need forty dollars.” 

“No, sweetie.” Mary walked YN to the couch. “I didn’t know you felt like that.” 

“Well, he doesn’t pay attention to anything unless he is making money.” 

“Don’t you worry. He will turn around.” John walked away into a back room and pulled his phone out of his pocket. 

Sam walked into his house at 11pm. 

“Hi,” Dean said in the dark. 

“Dude, what have I told you? Don’t do that! I’m exhausted.” 

“Mhmm.” Dean rolled his eyes. Sam turned on the lights. 

“Why are you not in your pajamas? It’s late.” Sam tilted his head when he saw his brother in jeans and a Henley.  “Please tell me you are not about to interrogate me. You’re in your interrogation clothes at this time of night.”

“I need to talk to you.” 

“What now? I would like to get my beauty sleep.”

“Beauty would like to get her sleep too, ya know.” 

“Huh?” 

“Your beautiful daughter needs you. She climbs into MY bed, she relies on ME to have the tough conversations and discipline her. I don’t mind doing those things, but you should be doing most of it. You’re her father. She misses you.” 

“Don’t tell me how to raise-“

“I will, because i am doing it by myself, and she isn’t even mine! I love her! I do, but it’s your job. You don’t like it that I take her to the shop? Then you come home. You don’t like it that I make her pancakes three times a week? Come make her breakfast.” 

“Dean,” Sam started. 

“No. You know what she told me? Time is money. So she is trying to earn $40 for an hour of your time, since that’s what you make an hour as a lawyer.” 

Sam was about to bite back, but he stopped. 

“You told her that you are worth forty dollars an hour, and she wants time with you. That’s not fair, Sam. Go get your girl tomorrow morning after she has her damn waffles, and don’t come back without her.” Dean took off his shirt to change into his pajamas as he exited the room, sighing heavily. 

Sam stood in his place for a moment. 

She’s working to earn money? For an hour with me? What have I done to my girl? 

The next morning, Sam picked her up from his parents’. 

On the ride home, he took a detour. 

“Aren’t we going home?”

“I thought we could go shopping for those new shoes you wanted,” he smiled.

“That’s okay, Dad. I can get them later.” 

“You and I are going to have the afternoon together. It will be fun.” 

“Please just take me home,” YN looked out the window. 

“I haven’t spent time with my girl in a long time, so that’s what we are doing today.” 

“Fine.” She said plainly. 

“Good.” Sam decided he would welcome any response he got from her. 

They went to her favorite lunch place. Sam saw a smile reach her face when he pulled into the parking lot. 

She was quiet as they ate. 

“I heard you were earning some cash to hang out with me.” He curiously looked up at YN. She shrugged.

“I wanted time with you.” 

“I didn’t realize how much I hadn’t been paying attention to you. Your uncle set me straight last night. I’ll be better at giving you my time without forty dollars an hour. Time is money, except when it comes to family. Got it?” 

YN didn’t look at him. 

“Hey, I promise.” Sam tried again. 

“I hope you mean it.” YN grumbled.

@katymacsupernatural  @unicornblood4ever  @supernatural-crazed-girl

@fangirl-moment-x  @empirialwolf @winchesters-favorite-girl  @super100012  

 @percywinchester27  @waywardsuns  @supernatural-jackles  

@mcallmestiles @sdavid09  @kingandrear  @bellero @skylarraker

@seality @jaycc7983 @luci-in-trenchcoats 

@cherryblossomflowers @because-you-never-know-when 

@sleepylunarwolf @choosemyname 

@internationalmusicteacher @mersuperwholocked-lowlife 

@encounterthepast  @torn-and-frayed 

@giggles1026 @xiumin-girl99 

@mangueweaschester

@idksupernatural  @silverstripe101a

@thevelvetseries @jennawinchester152a * @samsgirl93 *    @supernatural3002 *

@tmiships4life * @breereadsthings *  *

@a-magey​ @vicmc624​ @hookedinto-fictionalworlds​   @beatifuldisaster018​

@miraclesoflove​ @myopiamystical​ @fallen-wolf22​

@waywardnewcomer​  

@marvelouslysherlockedhunter 

@akshi8278​

[cmtwimagines]

The Article

SAM WINCHESTER X READER

SUMMARY: Your past may be in the past, but Sam still wants to know everything about you.

WARNINGS: Parental Abuse, Mention of Knives + Cutting

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

PROMPT: Could you write a Sam Winchester x reader to the prompt "oh god....what did they do to you?" 

You stared at yourself in the mirror. The bruises and cuts that used to be all over your body were merely just scars now, but you still felt the pain in them. You could still feel every slice of his knife. Against your stomach, your arms, your chest and legs. You could still feel the slaps she landed on your face, and the punches and kicks she planted everywhere else that was within reach.

You’d been a hunter with Sam and Dean for awhile now, the bunker being the home that the three of you shared happily. You met them only a few years into becoming a hunter, so compared to them you were a baby, even if you were only a few years younger than Sam. They’ve taught you so much. They’ve helped you gain confidence in your work, and confidence in yourself, but then came days like today where you wake up in a cold sweat and the memories rushing back to you like they had just happened.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of the full body mirror as you stood in front of it in only your underwear. Neither of the brothers have seen your scars, you’ve made sure of it. They didn’t know what your parents did to you before you were even fully understand the extent of how bad the things they did to you were. Hell, for all the brothers knew, your parents were dead. At least that’s what you told them to avoid the inevitable questions asking why you don’t see or speak to them. You glared at yourself, finally gaining the energy to turn away and slip your shirt and pants on, getting ready for the day.

Today was going to be tough. While you were thankful that the world isn’t too crazy at the moment, you wished Sam and Dean weren’t on a hunt, and that you and Sam could cuddle up on the couch to watch a movie and distract your mind. You loved both of the brothers more than you’ve ever loved anyone, but there’s always been something more between you and Sam. You both never talked about it, but simply enjoyed the time you got to spend with each other knowing that there was nobody in either one of your lives that you cared for more.

Walking out of your room and towards the kitchen, you were startled to hear the clanking of pots filling the empty space. Did they come home early? Was there somehow an intruder? Without thinking much of it, you simply just walked into the kitchen and found Castiel filling a kettle with water before turning around towards you and setting it on one of the stove burners.

“Good morning, y/n - sorry if I woke you!” He exclaimed, not even a bit jumpy at you showing up out of nowhere while he was so clearly distracted.

“Morning Cas, don’t worry about it, I was already awake,” you retorted, grabbing the laptop off of the counter and settling yourself into one of the chairs around the table.

“Are you feeling alright? It’s only 8am and you usually sleep in until at least noon. Are you sick?” He asks. By the look on his face you could tell he was genuinely curious and concerned, no hint of mocking in his tone. It is true that you usually sleep in quite late, your nightmares just weren’t up for that today.

“M’fine, just couldn’t sleep well so I figured I might as well get up,” you sighed, shrugging your shoulders and opening the laptop. You froze once your eyes zoned in on the picture in front of you. There you were, a mere fifteen year old squished in-between your parents, all three of you showing your very realistic fake smiles. You could remember this day like it was yesterday; your mom always insisted on taking holiday photos to send out to the family around Christmas time. She loved acting like she was a perfect mother, but you just remember being slapped around after she got her picture because she thought you had too much attitude.

“Y/n? Did you just hear anything I said?” Cas spoke up, interrupting your thoughts and pulling your attention away from the computer.

“No, yeah, sorry cas, what were you saying?”

“I was saying that I think Sam and Dean will be home today. Apparently Garth and a new guy made it to the scene before them, so they let them handle the case.”

You nodded letting him know you heard him, but your mind was going crazy and your eyesight instantly went back to the article in front of you.

“Parents of fifteen year old girl sentenced to 25 years in prison” and the article went on to list everything you testified against them for. You were humiliated that one of the boys were reading this, or even just the fact that they now knew this happened to you. You didn’t know what to do or how to react, so you simply closed the computer and made your way back to your room, not even thinking to say anything to Cas. The second your door closed, the second your pacing began. Who read the article? It had to be Sam. Dean was never too intuitive and gladly took your answer that your parents died as a final answer. Why was he searching about me to begin with? Did I tip him off about something? Is he going to bring this up to me? Am I going to have to talk about this again?

You fell back first onto your bed, allowing yourself to try and take deep breaths while you stared up at the ceiling. You always thought that the answer “they’re dead” when anyone asked you about your parents would’ve been enough, but maybe it wasn’t? Maybe the way you said it made Sam question that answer? You wanted to be sucked up in a hole, the scars on your body seemingly burning at the thought of having to talk about how they were placed there. You knew other people went through what you’ve gone through. Of course your parents aren’t the only abusive parents in the world, but they left you for dead. The beat you and cut you. They hurt you in every way and then just.... left. They didn’t care what happened to you after that last session. You were lucky that your neighbor even stopped by that same day to see you passed out on the living room floor. If it hadn’t been for her, you weren’t too sure that you would be where you are right now - alive.

A knock on your door startled you out of your thoughts, a soothing voice floating through, “y/n, are you alright?” It was cas. You wouldn’t doubt that he knows what happened to you, considering he was a literal angel, but he never made it obvious if he does. What he does make obvious is that he can pick up on your moods and that he knows when somethings wrong.

“I’m fine cas, just need to lay down for a bit,” you called out. You could sense him hesitate before a distant thud was sounded throughout the bunker. You knew that sound to be the door leading from the garage, and your dread began to turn into panic sweats. The sound of Cas’ footsteps furthered themselves, and you quickly got up to ensure your door was locked.

Considering the laptop had been sitting where it was for a few days when Sam and Dean had left originally, you didn’t know whether Sam had been thinking about it the entire time he was gone. Maybe he had forgotten and wasn’t going to bring it up, but you didn’t want him barging in when you were feeling as self conscious as you were right now. No matter what, you felt exposed, like you weren’t even wearing any clothes to begin with.

“Y/n are you in there? We’re back from the hunt,” it was Sam at your door this time. Your hands instinctively went to unlock your door out of habit of hearing his voice. Even when you were trying to avoid him, you physically couldn’t. You opened the door up enough to see his face, and enough for him to see yours. He offered you a slight smile, but you knew he had a lot to say by the way his eyes danced across your face and even willingly looking down towards your body. Was he thinking about what happened to you right this second? Was he envisioning what your body probably looks like thanks to the detailed article that he had read beforehand.

“Welcome back, how was it?” You offered up, bringing his attention back to your face that was glowing pink as the heat rushed throughout your body.

“Didn’t do much, Garth had beaten us to it, and honestly I just wanted to come back home,” he shrugged.

“Oh yeah? Why?” You asked. The second you did, you felt stupid. You knew why he wanted to come home.

“Can I come in? I mean, I don’t mind talking to what looks like a floating head, but I’d rather be comfortable sitting on your bed while having a full blown conversation,” he joked, pushing his hands into his pockets. Your mind blanked for a second before you slowly nodded, backing up to open the door up enough to let him in, and then closing it right after. He made himself comfortable, taking his shoes off before placing himself on your bed with his back rested against the headboard.

“I know what you want to talk about,” you blurted out, avoiding eye contact and beginning to grab the miscellaneous things around your room to begin to clean up. It was always a habit when you felt any type of discomfort, “you want to talk about my parents. I saw the article up on the laptop.”

A deep sigh escaped his lips as he sat up a bit, cross-crossing his legs and leaning forward more.

“I know I shouldn’t have searched you. I genuinely apologize for that. I could just... tell that you were hiding something. I could tell by how quickly you always turned the subject away when your parents were brought up. I guess I just got too curious for my own good.”

You nodded. You understood. For the most part, you were an open book, especially with Sam. He knew all you quirks and triggers. He knew you better than anyone else, you just thought you did a better job at hiding this one thing. Taking a chance, you looked up and made eye contact with him. He didn’t show pity like you expected and experienced from anyone who ever knew you after the incident happened. Instead you just saw comfort.

“They were assholes. Big, huge, assholes who in my opinion should rot in prison, but instead they are out in a measly fifteen years.”

“I can agree with you there,” he chuckled a bit, patting the bed next to him, indicating that he wanted you to sit next to him. You shook your head no, feeling your eyes start to well up with tears.

“I hate them, Sam. They left me so broken. They left me looking so troubled, so unloveable,” you whispered, breaking eye contact with him and opting to continue straightening things up around your room. You kept thinking internally, your sadness diminishing and your anger rising a bit. You turned back to Sam who was just watching your every move. You usually would’ve shied away from that, but this time was different.

Without any thought or hesitation, you pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you in a pair of leggings and your bra.

“Oh god,” he whispered, seeing your bare body for the first time. In fact, he was one of the first people to truly see your body other than the multiple nurses and doctors that treated you after the incident, “what did they do to you?”

It was that moment that you felt a weight lift off of your shoulders. The way his eyes were gentle as they looked over your entire frame, not an ounce of judgement seeping into you skin, just carefulness and genuine sorrow.

“They did a lot, but I’m still alive. I’m here, I’m healthy, I’m loved, and I’m alive. That’s all that matters.” I murmured, throwing my shirt back on before taking up his earlier offer of sitting next to him, “I know I could’ve told you the truth earlier, I just prefer to not talk about it anymore. It’s painful.”

“That’s understandable, y/n. And again, I’m sorry for snooping into it, but I don’t regret knowing. You’re so strong, and I’m so glad you’re here - alive and healthy,” you nodded, allowing him to grab you into a hug, pulling you into his lap. You chuckled a bit at the strength he formed around you, before pulling away a bit and looking at him, “I love you, and I’m so glad you came into my life. Even though your parents are going to be out of jail one day, that doesn’t ensure that a tragic accident may not happen to them,” he smiled at his own words, sending a louder laugh out of your mouth.

“I love you, too, moose. Thank you.”

[fairlyspnfanfic]

The Secrets We Keep - Part 5

Part One   Part Two  Part Three  Part Four

I sat quietly in the car as the driver navigated his way to my house where I would be dropped off. My phone had not stopped buzzing since we had pulled away from the casino.  “Deano” flashed on the screen non-stop with a photo of the boys goofing around to announce the caller.  I quickly pressed “Decline” every time.  

“Want to listen to some music?”  The driver asked me.  I shook my head and answered “No, thanks.  I’m good.”  

“Water?” He asked, holding up a small bottle.  I smiled and shook my head no while making eye contact with him in the rearview mirror. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

Unlocking my phone, I quickly sent a text message to my boss letting her know that I needed to use some vacation time and take the week off.  She responded almost immediately letting me know that that would not be a problem.  I breathed a relieved sigh and stared out the window, continuing to ignore the near constant buzzing of my phone alerting to me yet another call.

We pulled into the parking lot and up to the entryway to my building as I powdered down my phone and shoved it into my pocket.  “Thanks,” I said to the driver as I got out and shut the door behind me.  I jogged up the stairs to my door and quickly unlocked it, knowing that any minute, the brothers Winchester would be showing up again.

My pink quilted duffle bag still sat on my bed, full of clothes, weapons, and everything I had ever found myself needing on a hunt.  I tossed my cell phone charger in, zipped it up, slung the handles over my shoulder and left, locking the door behind me.  The Cougar was in one of the first few spots in the lot.  I unlocked the door, threw my bag into the passenger seat, and pulled out of the spot.

Just as I was turning out of the lot to head for the highway, that stark black 1967 Impala came down the road, heading for my apartment.  I could hear it before I saw it and knew that within it were two men intent on delivering a lecture at the very least.  I put my foot down, pushing the gas pedal to the floor.  My car lurched forward, unaccustomed to the speeds I was insisting.  It had never been in the best condition and I could hear the transmission whining as it switched gears.  

“Come on, come on, come on. Keep going!” I watched as Dean pulled in and subsequently out of the parking lot behind me, but my head start was just enough.  The exit for the highway was just close enough and I pulled off and let the engine continue to roar as the Impala faded into the rearview.  

 Two hours later, I was pulling into the driveway of the address Garth had sent.  My cellphone still sat in my bag, turned off and most likely full of angry voicemails and text messages.  Those were decidedly future-me’s problem.  I turned the engine off, got out of my car and made my way to the front door.  It was opening before I could raise my hand to knock.  

“Holy shit!” the dark-haired woman in front of me exclaimed.

I chuckled to myself. “Hey Jules.”  

She put her hand to her chest as if to calm herself down and took a deep breath.  “Y/N.  Holy hell you scared me.”  Her surprise turned to a smile as she wrapped me in her arms and hugged me forcefully, as she always had since the day we had met.  Sam had helped her out on a case not too long after meeting me.  He spent a week working on a Rougarou case with her that flowed into our weekend together.  “What brings you into town?”

“Garth sent me.  Said there were some demon signs.  I was itching for some work so.  Here I am.”  I spread my arms out to the sides.  “I’m at your disposal.”  

Jules’ expression flipped to one of confusion.  Her eyebrows creased, her mouth was taut, and she crossed her arms slowly. “Y/N, I’m not one for needing backup.”  

“Nobody’s saying you are!” I snapped into defensive mode. “I just needed to get out of town.  Garth said this was the closest job.  I can go if –“

“No, no.  It’s totally fine.  Garth’s just been on my case lately.  Wants everyone to have backup.  Even those of us who’ve been hunting solo for more years than that boy’s been alive.”  I shook my head in solidarity.

“I most definitely know the feeling.”

Jules shook her head as if shaking away a stray thought. “You can come in if you’d like.  I was just running out to do some recon.”

“Mind if I grab a drink quick?  I’d kill for some water.”  Jules stepped aside and waved me into the kitchen, grabbing me a glass and filling it with ice water.  

“I’m going to run upstairs and grab some supplies quick.  Make yourself at home.”  I heard Jules footsteps as she ran up the steps. I drained my glass fairly quickly and filled it up with water from the tap and began sipping at it.  I felt like I had been dehydrated for days.  Which, considering I had been working a different case less than 24 hours ago, was entirely possible.  

I brought my glass into the living room and sat it down on the end table, taking a seat on the couch. I took the opportunity to close my eyes for a moment.  Rest seemed to have been alluding me lately and with Jules needing prep time, I was more than willing to rest my eyes.  

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed but when I woke up, I was laying on the couch of Jules’ house with a blanket tucked over me.  The lights were off, the sky outside the window was dark, and there wasn’t any sign of Jules.  Rubbing my eyes, I swung my legs over until my feet rested on the floor. “Jules?” I called out.  No answer. But I could hear dishes clanking in the kitchen and headed that way, allowing my eyes to adjust to the light slowly. “Sorry Jules,” I started.  “I didn’t mean to –“

“So not Jules.”  Sam’s voice rang out, full of anger but deceptively calm. My eyes snapped up to his as I watched him dry his hands off on a towel and set it down on the counter behind him.  His gaze was fixed on me.  

“Is running away your new thing?”  He broke eye contact for only a moment.  Just long enough to put on his patented puppy dog eyes.  The ones that made me melt in my core.

“I’m not running away from anything.”

The puppy dog eyes were being tarnished by anger. “Y/N, you sped away from us.  From me.  After you walked out on me in the casino.”

“Well I guess you’d know. You taught me how.”  I knew my words had crossed the line as soon as they left my mouth.  “Sorry,” I said almost instantly.

“No, you’re right.” Sam’s long arms lengthened as he pushed his hands into his pockets.  “I walked out.  I told you I was done.”  His voice was low now.  Full of sadness and a hint of regret.  “But I’m here now. And obviously I’m not done,” he paused.  “Y/N, I don’t think I could ever be done.”  I lowered my head into my hands and massaged my temples. The stress of the situation was overwhelming.

But after a few seconds, Sam’s hands were on mine, pulling them away from my face.  He brought his palm up to my cheek and tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet him eye to eye.  Those deep hazel eyes that I could melt into.  I watched him flutter his lashes as his eyes flicked down, fixing on my lips before making eye contact once again.

“Sam,” I all but whispered. Before I could think or say another word, his lips were on mine.  The force took my breath away.  His arms wound themselves around my waist as he pulled me close, refusing to unlatch himself from me.  My lips responded in kind, massaging his with my own.  

Part 6

Tagging from previous like-age:

@vicmc624​@waywardprincesa @heyyy-hey-babyyy​ @carissime72​ @deans-baby-momma​ @formulafun​ @woodworthti666​ @yetanotherreader​ @crashlyrose​ @hobby27​ @gabby913​ @jxackles​ @polina-93​@supernaturaladdictsblog  @fandomoverdose666​ @deans-baby-momma​ @deanwanddamons​ @tazzi-baby​ @acertainhero

[wafflewarriors]

Blood, Sweat, and Tears

Possible trigger? Ish?

Note: I mostly wrote this because I've been feeling sore as hell from sports and I wanted to see if I could replicate that feeling here in an angsty way.

Basically she misinterprets the Winchesters hesitation for her not being good enough to hunt, rather than their worry and fear after having lost so much family. And she resorts to unhealthy means of weightloss and exercise. There's nothing graphic though.

///

Hunting has never, in the history of ever, been a skill that came along easy. To anyone. The unforgiving profession took years of work, practice, and patience to master it. Not only that, but it took research and last minute problem solving. Every hunter needed to be downright perfect if they ever expected to make it in this life.

So when you told the boys you were going to become a hunter, you didn't understand why they hesitated. Dean outright scoffed, as if the notion was ridiculous; you'd be lying if you had said that didn't hurt. Sam was a little less blunt about his reaction, but the way he bit his lip told you he was dubious. Did they have that little faith in you? You really didn't see the problem. You had worked with them for years as the research girl, gathering information and piecing each case together when the Winchesters didn't have the time to. It only made sense that you would qualify as hunter material. People, ordinary people, became hunters all the time! What made you so unqualified?

Somewhere in the cavities of your mind, a small voice whispered because the hunters that rose from nothing often had nothing to lose, and they couldn't care less if they died on their first hunt or if they succeeded in their endless quest for revenge. That's why you were different; you have a family, and it would kill them if you left them. They've already lost so much.

Sam approached you, hesitant still, as if he wasn't sure what to say quite yet. He took a breath, took a moment to gage your expression, and then sighed. "You're sure? Absolutely sure you want this?"

"I'm sure."

The Winchesters respected you. You weren't a child; if you told them you wanted something, you reserved the right to have it. However, that didn't make this less excruciating for them. In their eyes, they were letting you put a target on your back.

They didn't object to your proposal though. Instead of talking you down from your idea, they worked with you. The bunker had a gym, complete with a target range and a ranging supply of equipment. They certainly didn't sugar coat it for you. Sam told you about crushed dreams, and Dean told spoke of old friends and their partings. They made clear that you understood that this job would literally haunt you for the rest of your life. As you sweat, they reminded you that you were preparing for the lifetime of war and pain that would soon be your own. It was a heavy weight to carry, and an even bigger commitment.

From this, you imagined they were trying to scare you. Of course, they weren't lying about anything, but in the way that they said it to you, like they were stuffing your mind of ideas like newspaper to a kindling, made you think they were convincing you to give it up. They were trying their best to protect you with fear, to have you become a scared little girl who is afraid of the monster under her bed so they could fight it for you like they always have.

But you didn't scare easily.

The workout was intense. There were very few pauses or breaks, because on a hunt there was no such thing. Once you had completed a set of workouts, they had you do another. They did it alongside you, letting you see how much you had to catch up with. Sam and Dean were both six feet of toned muscle and calluses. 

After three hours, you had completed all the workouts thrown at you. You were drenched in sweat, and every muscle you had was aching and smarting. You finally stood, expecting this to be the end.

Dean nodded to you. "Go get a drink. We're going to spar next."

You stared at him a little, processing this. Sparring. That meant hand-to-hand tactics and conditioning. That meant wrestling. That implied more hours before this was over. You wanted to protest, but you held your tongue. It was never over; that was the lesson they were giving you, and you could either complain about it or suck it up, because this was your choice.

You pushed down your growing disappointment and masked it with an indifferent one. You were certain it didn't fool the boys, though.

You were careful not to drink too much, but enough so your lips weren't as dry and your aching throat was soothed. And then you returned, Dean was wrapping bandages around his knuckles, and motioned for you to do likewise.

You weren't going to lie, that scared you a little. Dean was a strong guy, and you weren't sure how rusty you were. Or how good you could duck.

But the hunter seemed to know what you were thinking. Your eyes met, he analyzed them, and he chuckled. "Don't worry, these aren't for you. We're using the punching bags first to get you warmed up."

You held back your retort, which was just a smart comment about being 'warmed up'. You were practically on fire. But it wouldn't get you anywhere complaining. You took the bandages, observed Dean's fluid wrapping motions, and mirrored them in silence.

You were exhausted, but you still followed Dean to the punching back with your head held high, feeling stubborn. Your muscles were starting to retaliate, begging for the work to end, but you pushed on, ignoring the shakiness in your legs as you followed Dean and the ache in your shoulders as you raised your fists to the red enemy—the punching bag. You pummeled it with all your lasting might, determined to show Dean you would not be deterred by a little sweat.

His hands reached to guide your motions, coming behind you to correct what he felt was unnecessary in your throws. "You like to drop your right hand during the left hook. Keep it lifted, or you'll leave yourself exposed." He showed you an example, and you just marveled at how he was still at his prime.

Punching the bag required coordination that you lacked. You could punch fine, but your muscles were protesting and twitching when you pulled back. You were slow, and Dean made sure to tell you. You knew he was trying to discourage you, to get you to quit on your own. But you were a stubborn one, as they liked to say.

Once Dean seemed satisfied by your form, you both went to the mat, which was clearly set up for a spar. It was unfair—Dean was hardly breaking a sweat, and you felt ready to break apart. Another lesson, you realized. Hunting wasn't fair.

You narrowed your eyes, bracing yourself to fight. Your heart was thrumming, and every limb was shaky in pain and adrenaline. But your eyes were strong, and you made sure that Dean knew it.

You weren't great, by any means. Dean was a professional, and you were no match against him like this. However, you managed to hold some ground, and retain what they had taught you, regardless of how sloppy it may be.

After who knows how long, Dean finally called it quits. You were panting with adrenaline and feeling rather lightheaded. And you both needed to eat and shower. 

"Good job, kid," Dean made sure to say to you.

You smiled. Dean was impressed.

You both cooled down a bit, then exited the room that would likely rule your dreams for a while. Every muscle was sore; even your eyelids were heavy.

When you reached your room, you allowed yourself the slump your shoulders some. You honestly felt terrible and tired. Everything hurt. You sucked in a breath as your calves painfully tightened into a knot. You were temporarily paralyzed, grabbing your leg and gritting your teeth. This was going to suck.

You limped to your bed with a gasp, and let out a muffled cry into your pillow. The bed was cold against your nearly feverish self, and you soaked it in. You were acutely aware that it was only somewhere around six o'clock (as that was the only digit you had registered), and that the Winchesters would probably search for you to eat dinner with them, but you were already falling into a deep sleep.

///

The morning was worse.

Every movement was slow and painful. It took roughly twenty minutes of pained whines and sobs just to sit up, and you still couldn't convince yourself to stand. Because standing meant walking, and you didn't think you could handle that just yet.

You, with another moan of agony, turned to the clock, letting out a strangled exhale when you saw that it was eight thirty-five. You supposed, fortunately, you had been so exhausted you had slept through most of the pain in the night. The Winchesters had left you alone, and you were at least grateful for that.

Finally, you gained enough courage to stand. And as painful as it was, you were a hunter now. The Winchesters had to toughen up all the time. They had died before, the least you could do was hide some grimaces. You slapped on your poker face and walked as straight as you possibly could to the kitchen, albeit it wavered here and there.

Dean was making french toast for two, while Sam made himself a smoothie. You thought on this. Maybe, to better help your workout routine, you should cut back on the food. It wouldn't kill you to go on a diet and lose a little weight. So instead of Dean's offered french toast, you made a beeline for the fridge, where you grabbed a honey crisp apple.

Dean looked rather offended. "You don't want my french toast?"

You forced your face to be calm as your calf twitched and seized. "Oh, sorry, no. I actually ate a few hours ago. I went to bed at five, remember? I didn't sleep for fourteen hours," you said naturally. Oh, yes you did. You definitely did that.

That little nagging voice curiously asked you why you lied to them. Why couldn't you just tell the truth? What was with the white lies and deceit? Perhaps, you told yourself, you knew that it wasn't your best decision. You knew the Winchesters would not approve of it. You knew it was wrong.

And you figured when you had gambled with one white lie, how could another few hurt any?

So when you knew the Winchesters weren't watching, you would limp, biting back groans as your limbs struggled to cooperate with you. During your workouts, no matter that Dean would tell you to tell him when it was too much, you always bit your tongue, knowing the best workouts came from 'too much', and that you would live.

Your scale was your friend: you became more encouraged of your progress as your weight dropped.

You knew they were just trying to get you to admit defeat—that if you couldn't handle the intense workouts, then a monster would inevitably overpower you.

In this, you began to wonder of the importance of being a hunter. Did you really want this? It had become less about training and more about proving yourself to Dean that you were ready. However, you were glad they'd given up trying to sway your decision. You had shown to Dean clearly that you wanted in, and you had won them over. Once they built you up, you would finally be a hunter.

That's what kept you going.

And the workouts continued, and you felt yourself deteriorating by the thirteenth day. Standing too fast suddenly had you seeing stars, and it took several seconds to recover.

And by that thirteenth terrible day, your knees buckled, and of course, Dean was there to catch you by your armpit.

Your sweaty armpit. That had to be disgusting.

However, if Dean thought it was gross, he wasn't showing it. In fact, he seemed concerned. "You good?"

You nodded, but your breath betrayed you, hitching a little. "Just a leg cramp." Just then, your vision blurred and you leaned back into him at the wave of nausea that followed.

He turned you to face him. "Hey, what's up?"

"Just…" You felt sick. "Just a bit… dizzy. Can I sit down?" You used him as a crutch, lowering yourself until you were leaning up against the wall. Your vision was telling you you were on a carousel, and you shut your eyes tight. Your breathing was irregular as you fought the rising nausea.

"How much water have you had?"

You shrugged, and then regretted it. Your shoulders were on fire. "Some," you croaked.

"Some?" He asked, incredulous. He rubbed his face in frustration. "We've been doing this for hours. You should be drinking more than 'some'. The hell?" He looked down at you angrily from where he was crouched. "Christ. Alright, let's get you somewhere else." He pinched his nose and shouted down the hall, "Sam?!"

Sam had already seen though from where he stood in the gym. He was making his way over to the both of you.

"She's dehydrated," Dean told him. "Can you go get some water?"

"Sure," Sam said, heading to the kitchen and leaving Dean with you again.

Dean reached down and scooped you up. He had his bicep under your knees, one under your back, and his abs against your hip. He was carrying you bridal style.

And with what little consciousness you had left, the sudden motion almost made you pass out.

It also made you nervous. A nervousness that made stars break behind your eyelids. Look at you, swooning over some boys. Hell no! Shame on you. They spend half their hunts reeling over other women, it's not like they like you like that.

You wiggled, panicking a little on the inside. You threw out your hands. "Dean!" You yelped, trying to control the shakiness of your voice. "I might be tired, but this is unnecessary."

"Enjoy it," Sam called from down the hall, as if he knew exactly why you were trying to escape. He probably did. Frick Sam and his way of reading people so well. You were twenty feet away from him and he just knew.

Sam made his way back with the promised glass of cold water.

Dean said, "Next time, don't skimp on the water, okay? There's a reason we take water breaks." He took the glass from Sam just to hand it to you. "Just take some sips, alright? We don't need you getting sick on top of this."

As Dean watched you drink, his heel bounced from where he was crouching. "How much have you eaten today? No, no wait. Scratch that. What have you eaten today?"

You froze, trying to visualize the fridge space and what was in it. But lately, you would just grab some fruit and leave. You didn't really know what to tell him. "I… had some oatmeal." You recalled that being on the shelf a week ago.

Dean's frown impossibly fell further. He looked devastated. "I told you she was lying, Sam. I told you."

Sam sighed then, and his sad eyes flicked about the hallway.

"Wh…" you started to say, internally panicking. "What do you mean?"

Sam's stiff shoulders dropped. "We finished off the oatmeal a few days ago. It's even on the grocery list."

Dean sent him a look. "You make grocery lists?"

"Yes, Dean," Sam says. "Otherwise you would just get jerky, beer, and pie. That's not exactly a square meal."

Dean shrugged, but then shook his head, realizing his distraction. He turns back to you. "Wait, have you eaten anything? At all? When's the last time you actually had a meal?"

You wanted to say something, you did. But you were about as calm as a deer in the headlights.

Dean stood, throwing his hands in the air. "The hell?!" he exclaimed, and then to Sam, "What the actual hell?!" 

Sam couldn't really believe it either. The younger Winchester gathered himself. "Have you really been starving yourself?" At your lack of response, he blinked. "You're… c'mon, you're smarter than this. I know you are. What even compelled you to hurt yourself like this?"

You scoffed and denied it. You weren't hurting yourself.

"Look, I know you think this isn't doing anything, but you're wrong. You do know that to build muscle, you also have to eat protein, right? It doesn't come from nowhere. I see where your mind is going and I've seen how far you've been pushing yourself lately, but I also thought you were eating. That's a vital part of working out. Of course, you have to do it right, but it's vital. Muscles don't come from nothing," Sam told you.

You shifted, embarrassed. You were being scolded like a child.

Dean was glaring at a wall and cursing. "Sammy's got a frigging point. Also, you literally pushed yourself until you collapsed. If I hadn't caught you, you would've fallen flat on your face. And you can't even tell me that I'm wrong." He took a breath. "You were going to break yourself. Sure, you were kicking ass, too. I was impressed. And I'm—I'm still impressed, don't get me wrong. I'm impressed that you can push yourself that hard. That's good for a hunt. But kid, you couldn't tell me when you wanted a break?"

You offered a small, timid shrug and broke your gaze with him. You felt awful.

Dean looked so crushed. "God, do you really think that's what we wanted from you? To starve yourself? Kid, you got it backwards. All we want is for you to be stronger when you go out there. This? This isn't strong." Dean was quietly seething, but his anger wasn't entirely toward you. Perhaps he blamed himself, that he didn't notice sooner. "This is… this…"

You looked away, rubbing at the tears that you couldn't stop from rolling down your cheeks. You couldn't look at them or they'd see it. You couldn't face them until you were fine again. As steady as you could, you whispered, "Sam… Dean… I didn't… I am so sorry. I just wanted to be strong. I wanted to be like you."

Dean snatched your shoulder, pulling you to face him. And when you finally saw the heartbroken look in his eyes, your mouth wavered as a sob escaped you. Dean pulled you into a hug, his hands fisting your shirt and clutching you tight. You let yourself go, unable to contain your sobbing in his embrace. You just ugly cried into his shoulder, having your own pity party about how stupid you had been.

"Well," Dean said, his eyes alight with unshed tears. He didn't even bother to wipe them as they trailed. "You got that part mixed up, okay? We're not asking you to starve. We're just scared for you, alright? We want to make sure you're prepared. We can't lose anyone else. Hell, I still don't want you out there." He was torn.

Sam cut in. "But you're an adult, so it's your call. But this? If there is anything we're going to stop, it's going to be this." 

Dean began to lead you by the arm to the kitchen, careful that you were steady on your feet before moving. "Think you can stomach some of Sam's rabbit food?" Dean motioned for Sam to help and squeezed your shoulder to comfort you.

Sam nodded, opening the fridge. "I'm sure a light salad and a hard boiled egg will be okay."

You leaned into Dean's touch, knowing that they would always be there when you slipped up. When you fell to your lowest. When you did something you knew was stupid.

Because that was family.

[fandomstuff67]

15x20 Thoughts

I’m going to be talking about 15x20 and what I thought about it so if you don’t want to read a long text post then keep on scrolling.

Okay, first things first, I liked it. I didn’t love it, but I liked it. I think it was fitting and I think it worked. Dean always wanted to go out on a hunt, that’s how he wanted to die, he knew he wasn’t going to live to a ripe old age and he was okay with that (I’m not saying we have to be okay with that, I’ll touch upon that in a moment, but Dean was happy with the way he went and I think we should remember that).

I’m glad Sam got a family and the Winchester name is being carried on. I loved that he named his son Dean and I’m going to assume that he was with Eileen because there’s no reason to assume he wasn’t. I just think they couldn’t get Shoshannah back so they used that awkward long shot instead. 

Before I dive into what I think could have been better and what I’ll forever remain mad about, I want to say that we’re allowed to dislike the episode, we’re allowed to feel mad about it and let down but please, please, do not attack the actors. They don’t get the final say in the end and they gave incredible, award winning, performances. So please refrain from directing hate to them and asking them how they could let this happen. And most importantly, on Sunday when Misha and Jared have their panels, please be respectful, they’re going to be emotional and they’re going to be nervous because they’re seeing our reactions, even if they don’t respond, so they know what we’ve thought, and so far all I’ve seen is hate and not one post about it being good. 

We’re also allowed to like the episode, and for those that 100% loved it, remember their feelings are valid, please don’t come at each other’s throats.

Ironically, with that being said, I’m going to talk about what I didn’t like. 

So, first off. Dean’s death shattered me. I don’t think I’ve ever cried that hard, I physically couldn’t breathe. Dean is my favorite character and watching him die like that absolutely wrecked me. 

I’m so torn about this scene, because on one hand, that’s how Dean wanted to go, but on the other hand, that was a shitty way for him to go. Killed by a fucking nail? In a barn? Just no. He deserved so much better. SO.MUCH.BETTER. This is Dean fucking Winchester, he defeated God’s, and devils, and angels, and demons, but this is how he goes? I’m not buying it. And his speech to Sam, while it was beautiful and I loved it and Dean was being so brave and vulnerable and proud of his baby brother, it was a little... off. The head touch was a bit too wincestie for me. That head touch shouldn’t have been there, if they were going to do a head touch like that, it should have been with CAS. 

Speaking of Cas. He should have been in that episode. There is NO EXCUSE. Covid is not a valid reason for his absence. They brought back our Bobby but not Cas? Castiel who has been such an important part of this show for so many years? Cas who confessed his love to Dean and who subsequently died right afterwards? And now, apparently he’s out of the empty and helping Jack with heaven, but we don’t get to SEE him? That is wrong on so many levels. I needed a DeanCas reunion, I needed it so badly. 

I firmly believe that Cas was supposed to be there (we’ll know eventually when the pre-Covid script is released and we learn what the changes were, and if that’s not the case then really, what the fuck? Like actually I’ll be even more mad). I also believe that Ellen, Jo, and Ash were supposed to be there too, in the roadhouse and there was going to be a reunion, John and Mary too, but because of Covid they couldn’t. 

I think it would have been very fitting if CAS was the one who welcomed Dean into heaven (stay tuned I will be writing this fix it fic). I needed Dean to acknowledge his feelings, I needed there to be more of Dean grieving. Don’t get me wrong, the montage in the beginning was amazing and I loved it, but they shouldn’t have been that happy. We know how devastated Dean has been in the past when Cas died, I find it very hard to believe he moved on so quickly, it just seemed so out of character. I needed them to talk more about Cas, about what he said, and what Dean thought about it. But they couldn’t even give us that. They literally buried their gays and dusted off their hands to a job well done and I cannot accept that. I have to ask the point of the love confession if it wasn’t going to be reciprocated? If it wasn’t going to matter in the end? I’m so unbelievably disappointed that they gave us that and nothing else, they didn’t even talk about it, or mention it. Did Sam ever even know what really happened? Cas deserved better. He deserved to be told he was loved, which he never heard, and no matter how many fix it fics we write, that will forever remain true and I hate it. 

Cas. Should. Have. Been. Back. I will forever stand by that. 

Sam’s ending worked. I liked it a lot and I wouldn’t change it. He deserved his happy ending, he deserved to be a father, and I’m so glad he got that.

However, this show is about family and how it doesn’t end in blood, and yet in the end it was all about blood. I’m genuinely so disappointed about that. That was like a slap to the face and I can’t believe that they decided that instead of ending the show by proving, once again, that family don’t end in blood, they decided to go back on everything the show has been about, everything that has been the core of this crazy little show that could for so long. 

They could have done so much better, and they should have done so much better. We deserved better.

So, after all of that, my final thoughts are as follows: 

I liked it. I really did. Were there things that should have been changed? Yes. HELL YES, but I can’t be entirely disappointed about the ending we got because it did fit, and it was beautiful.

The only thing that really would’ve made it better was having Cas there. All they had to do was give us Cas and I’d be happy with the ending. I’d be happy with Dean dying on an old nail in a barn, if we got Cas in heaven with Dean. But we didn’t, so I’ll never be truly happy with the ending, I’ll never be satisfied. But I will take what we got because in the end, this is the show that has brought so many people together, this is the show that’s taught us all valuable lessons, and this is the show that we all love so much it hurts. 

And remember... nothing ever really ends, does it? 

There are doors that were left open for a movie, even if they’re just set slightly ajar, the Winchester brothers, and their fallen angel, can return to us in the future and maybe everything they fucked up will be fixed. But for now... we must carry on.  

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

How Do I Let Him Go?

Summary- 1.7k Dean x Y/N. Dean and Sam have one last job to do, and although not difficult, it hits a few personal notes with Dean. Angst. Mentions of Death. Written for @deanwanddamons​ 1k Follower Challenge. Congrats on your mile stone babes! Prompt is in Bold.

It should have been a regular easy and shut case, Baby bring them into town, they hunt the creepy crawly that reared its ugly head, grab a burger and beer, then gone.

Should have been, but Dean wasnt placing his chips on that. Cause they were the Winchesters after all. Sammy and Dean, hunters extraordinaire.

So when you showed up in there motel doorstep after a case, rain pouring in the backdrop, your hair plastered to your face and dripping a puddle on the hooker inn motels ragged door mat, who was he to close the door in your face. “please, I need you.” Well, Dean considered looking at you, who am I to say no to a woman when shes uttering those words?

A step back, he allowed you in, going straight to the bathroom, and retrieving a towel to help you dry off, Pressing your face into the rough material and dragging it up into your hair, giving it a tousle, you ask “Wheres Sam?”

“He went to go get us some food, but he will be back soon.” Dean perched on the edge of his bed. “But why are you here Y/N? We already finished up our business here.”

“Yea with that, but I got a personal one.” You started, and fell into the past, explaining how you ONCE had a brother, and older overprotective brother whom you loved very much, even if at times he could be overbearing.

Dean cleared his throat, immensely glad right at the moment Sammy was not here, he would probably have a comment or two to add, although Dean considered himself pretty awesome and lax for the most part.

“You say Once... what happened?” Dean questioned when you paused, fisting your hand in the towel. Dean moved over to sit next to you, letting his hand brace against your back, the whole demeanor of your face had shifted, screwing up a bit. God the pain was still fresh after all this time, the guilt a heaviness that crushed your heart, sneaking up occasionally to leave you gasping for air.

“My boyfriend at the time wasnt a great person. And I was young, insecure, frankly I allowed myself to remain in a abusive relationship for the sake of ‘I love him’, I didnt know the difference then between Love and Control. Jacob tried to get me to see, but...” You shrug “I was blind to it. It got bad one night, and I called Jacob to come get me. Ron kept a gun in our apartment that I had no idea about, and pulled it on us when Jacob came to collect me.” You wring that towel in your hand until you could feel the weave give slightly, loosening enough to keep it from ripping and look over at Dean, who at this point stayed quiet, allowing you this chance at a weakness. “shot him, there was no saving him. He was gone before he hit the floor and Ron panicked. Ditched the gun and bolted. Police picked him up an hour later. I buried my brother, thinking I would never see him again. Fuck was I wrong.”

Dean had a feeling he knew where this was going, but pushed you to continue anyways. “But....?”

“You know, if I didnt just see you and Sam clean up at the school, I wouldnt be telling you this. But I see him and, shit I dont know how its gotten this way. Hes my brother, I should want to see him right? But the last two times.” You swipe at your face when the tears start making tracks, and Dean quick as ever reached towards the night stand, grasping a few tissues from the box and handed them over. “Thanks, right after I see him, my current significant other gets hurt or worst .”

“Worst?” Deans brows lift in question, his green eyes sparking in anger at your situation, this was obviously a situation that needed to be dealt with.

“First it was an accident, my boyfriend after Ron. Just enough to drive us apart. Casey, he was in a bad car accident, and when he was discharged, he grew distant. Once healed, he moved out. Then Tony... Fuck we had a row one night, and we both ended up getting physical with one another. I saw Jacob for a moment over his shoulder, I even almost convinced myself I didnt, it was my imagination, but Tony collapsed right in front of me. Doctors claimed his heart just blew, but he was the healthiest man I knew, It just didnt add up.”

It was this moment the Sam arrived back. Both of you glanced at the door when it clicked open and he stepped in, not realizing you were there for a moment. “Dean they didnt have those fries you wanted, but I did get- oh! sorry, Errr, I didnt know you had company.” giving a questioning look to Dean if he should leave, the older brother put that to rest quickly.

“This is Y/N, and after seeing how today went, she needs some help.” Dean gave Sam the basics, and Y/N just stayed quiet for the moment, Sams gaze fell back to you with a hint of sorrow, and gave a nod. “Yea, definitely sounds like something we can  help you with.” Giving a reassuring smile, he set the food down, and shrugged from his coat. Going to some of there supplies, he dug out an Emf reader, switching it on with a buzz of lights flaring red on top then settling back to just make a soft buzzing sound. “You dont mind do you?” Y/N gave a light shake of your head and Sam was quick to fall into an explanation while Dean pulled away, thinking back on all you told them.

“Your brother... Buried or Cremated?” Dean questioned once Sam finished. “Buried” You say simply and the two brothers exchange a look. “Where?” Sam asks and you tell them the local cemetery. So this will be an easy case, Dean considers, but he cant help but feel a tinge of regret for the dejected way you look, sitting on the edge of the bed your hands wringing together. Sam starts gathering stuff, and Dean shrugs on a coat, grabbing some salt and circling one of the chairs in the room with it.

“We will take care of it tonight Y/N, but I need you to stay right here.” Dean had you sit, and your careful not to break the line. Not sure why, but it seemed necessary. Before the man could step away, you reached out, and the tears that brimmed your eyes, although sadness were relief. “Thank you...its not going to hurt Jacob right... what you and Sam do?” You say simply and those green eyes of his soften, knowing what you were thanking him for what your asking him. Please, dont hurt my brother, I still love him, regardless of what hes done. His voice was gruff as he nodded. “Its going to be okay, we promise.” And with a slight squeeze of his hand, he let you go.

It was just as they suspected, Jacobs spirit had been unable to move on, stuck in this world with the belief that You were his job to watch over, just as Sammy was his job to watch over. Had been since he was 5 and John shoved that baby in his arms. Dean sighed as he was stuck in his thoughts about it, dumping salt over Jacobs body, Sam keeping watch with the sawed off shot gun. “Think this will take care of him for good Dean?”

“Of course Sammy, salt and burn. Cleanses everything.” Dean grunted while climbing out and digging in his pockets, he pulled out a matchbook from the hotel room. “Dad taught us that.” yanking a match and flicking it to spark, he waited till the fire was hot, crackling up the remaining matches and tossed it in. It went white hot in a quick blaze, then a steady orange, burning through even the rain pouring around them. It was morning by the time they were able to refill the hole.

Returning to the room, Sam and Dean found you wide eyed, perched on the edge of your seat. “Its-its done?” You question, a bit of a hesitant stutter in your voice, and Dean drags his foot through the salt. “Just one last check Y/N” Sam informs, and he digs out his Emf reader again, giving it a swipe over your body, clean. There was no warning flashes. Your eyes are wide as you look between the two men and Dean gives a nod. “Its all over Y/N, hes moved on.”

“Thank you” Your tears just cant be held back, and you hugged them both. “I dont know how to thank you. “

“Just stay safe” Dean says, and you take your leave.

Days later, Dean had gotten Baby packed, checked over the room, and was ready to head out of town. It was quiet between the two brothers, working as they always have, and probably always will. Riding out of town, passing the cemetery Dean catches sight of you standing at the freshly dug grave, and he whipped the car around right quick.

“We forget something?” Sam asks, and Dean just utters. “Gotta check on something.” It was then Sam caught sight of what he saw and nodded in understanding. Hoping out of the car, Dean made his way to where you were standing, his hands in his pockets.

“Y/N, you okay?” He asks quiet like as he comes to stand next to you. Your hand you have a simple flower, and you rest it atop of Jacobs stone.

“Thought my heart is broken, It still breaks everyday.” You say in response, looking up at Dean.”I thought I would feel different once this was over, but Dean, it still hurts. I miss him, even after everything, I know I should be happy, hes at peace. But now how do I let him go?” you confessed. “I dont know how to... “

Dean knew... that pain that ate at you, it never fully goes away, but becomes a part of your life, just like breathing. He doesnt have the heart to tell you that though, and his arms envelopes you, leaving you to sink into his embrace and holds you steady as the sobs rack your body, falling into you sorrow in this strangers arms.

tags- @official-and-unstable-satan​ @kimisama1989​ @p8tn0lish​ @deanwanddamons​

[stusbunker]

Known: Off Key

A Supernatural Dark Fan-fiction

Featuring: Demon!Reader, MoC!Dean x Female OC, Sam Winchester, Castiel, and Crowley

Series Masterlist

*^*^*^*^*^*

November 26, 2014

Crowley’s Earth Operations, Throne Room

           There were things he had seen that would make a sane man rip his eyes out. But staring at the bruised and chained form of his mother was not something he wished to unsee. Crowley was the King of Hell, Master of the Crossroads and owner of the First Blade. He was the most powerful demon in existence. This shouldn’t be a problem, however powerful she was, she remained his prisoner. The undying resentment he felt towards her was only paralleled by a little boy’s need for his mother to love him.

           His time with Dean must have kept him soft. He had been off the blood for months; this was just a momentary relapse. Crowley couldn’t be having, sentiments, about his whore witch mother. Could he?

November 30, 2014

The Bunker

The weeks since both CC and Dean had been purged of their demonic sides had fostered an indelicate dance. She remained in the Bunker despite the devastation she felt in the aftermath. Guilt, fear and grief bristled her already brusque demeanor. Once Castiel left with Hannah, the outward animosity dropped to a low simmer. She hadn’t divulged her spirit walk or that the knowledge of her origins had left her vulnerable to both Heaven and Hell outside of their heavily warded safehouse. It wasn’t their burden to bear. All the while, CC hadn’t felt the same, with either Winchester, as her stay lengthened; safety was enough for her to attempt to remain on their good sides.

Dean was unapologetic about the whole thing; CC shouldn’t have been possessed and somehow, their efforts had remedied the situation. He found himself speeding back to Kansas after the old case of Bobby’s, not realizing he was rushing home because he had somebody there waiting. He felt oddly rejuvenated after ending the shifter and he couldn’t wait to give CC all the twisted details of that mess of a family. Just the thought of her grinning had his foot leaning heavier.

That reunion was over and settled, but Dean had yet to earn much enthusiasm beyond a half-hearted greeting from CC. Strategically, Sam left them alone, unless they were heading out for a case. He knew they had to work through things, and nothing suggested they were done with each other; he gave them a respectable distance. They were just too damn stubborn for their own good.

           “You know we really could have used you on this one,” Dean strongly suggested while he pealed his coat off, frustration reigniting on his bruised face.

           “I don’t know why I need to say this again, but I am not hunting with you. It’s too dangerous.”

           “Yeah, well, we lost a damn powerful witch and a lot of people died in the process.”

           CC didn’t rise to the challenge, leaving the brothers quietly. She came back to the Library with the first aid kit, looking over Dean’s face as Sam settled down with his laptop across the table. “You guys made it out, that’s what matters.”

           “Real nice, Chloe,” Sam muttered.

Dean pushed her hand away from his face to glare up at her. “What other people don’t matter? Are you just giving up on ever doing your job? On who you are, on what your family taught you?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” CC warned. “Can I finish?”

Dean didn’t answer, but sat still as she patched him up, leaving him with a bag of peas and a cold beer to judge in her absence.

Later that night, Dean was drawn down the hallway by the soft sound of singing. He knew Sam sometimes left music on, but it was too gentle and haunting to be a recording. The closer he got Dean realized it was more of a chant, the words lifting slightly before falling back to the beginning of the recitation. It was Chloe in a melancholy drone to the night air; words he would never grasp, but a feeling that struck him like a forgotten chord in the harmony.

CC sang out to those that went before her, those that couldn’t be saved. The regret and fear raced through her until tears burned in her eyes. She prayed for bravery and for guidance, to be wholly herself again, and to be the granddaughter and hunter she once was. As the air cleared and her voice ached from her efforts her unseen audience became clear. She wasn’t sure how she could sense him now, but there was no doubt that Dean was resting against her bedroom door.

“You can come in now, Dean. If you want.” She packed away her incense and bowl set, as Dean entered like a kid late to finals.

“Everything alright?” She gave him a look to not ask stupid questions. He watched as she dropped her eyes, darting to nowhere in particular for as long as she could; everywhere but back at him. “Hey, about how I snapped on you about Rowena? It’s just, I know you. You’re happiest when you’re giving it your all. This, hiding gig, it doesn’t suit you.”

Dean dropped onto her bed, casually throwing his hands behind his head as if he were waiting for her psychoanalysis and not a rebuttal. She leaned against the desk, one leg bent as she peered over at him, the Mark of Cain peeking out from his rolled-up sleeve. “Who ever said we’re allowed what makes us happy? That’s not a hunter’s lot. I don’t have to tell you, of all people, that one.”

Dean rolled to his side, patting the bed at her. She huffed and rolled her eyes but dropped onto the blanket and crawled into him all the same, burrowing face first into his broad chest.

“You think we could ever be happy?”

“In general, or you mean, like as an ‘us’?” Dean spoke into her hair, the thick strands soft against his lips.

“At all.”

“I don’t know. But I hate to see you stop fighting.”

“Yeah, sometimes it feels like the fight was taken from me. Like I was robbed. I don’t know how to be me and this other thing all together.”

“For what it’s worth? I’m sorry for what happened when she, when I–.”

“This isn’t about her, Dean. This is about figuring out whatever I am now.”

“You can still be you, Cease, trust me. You’ve always been remarkable, now you know where some of that comes from.”

CC thudded his chest with her head, laughing. “Man, you are laying it on thick tonight. Itching that bad, huh?” She leaned back to see his appraising smirk and eyebrow waggle. The light shifted, and he was that very breakable man again. Chloe knew she could hurt him in an instant and it terrified her. If it wasn’t for the Mark on his arm, he might have already been a casualty of her unhindered wrath. She didn’t want to let go, but holding on felt like chaining him to her, where all the consequences were unknown.

“Hey, if it’s just this tonight and this is all you need. I’ll be good.”

“But?”

“But I wouldn’t say no to less clothing.”

The next morning

Dean woke up with a sour taste in his mouth, CC’s legs thrown over his. Slowly he eased out from behind her with a quick peck on the tip of her shoulder. If she was awake, she didn’t let on; allowing him to leave guilt-free. He dragged his pants and boxers back on, not bothering with his belt. He fisted his shirts in one hand and his boots in the other, closing her door with a gentle click. He showered and found Sam, and his judging face cocked in Dean’s general direction, at the breakfast table.

“Did you at least convince her to ride along on the next case?”

“Pffft, no. Have you met her? I couldn’t convince her to do anything, ever.”

“And yet, here we are.”

“Okay, well maybe, I nudged her a certain direction.” Dean gave a considering pout before turning back to pour himself some coffee.

Sam pursed his lips. “If that’s what you’re calling it; I don’t wanna know.”

“Oh, you wanna, but I aint telling.”

“You done? Cuz I might have a line on something.”

Dean inhaled. “Whatcha got?”

Sam launched into the grizzly details of mutilated bodies while Dean tried to listen. Once his post-coital strut wore off, he felt a little sheepish about the whole thing. It was the first night they had spent together since he’d been cured. Nothing about it left him feeling any better about CC or whatever they had between them.

Hell

You had been coughing for what felt like a year. The chemicals in the air choked your lungs and burned your eyes; everywhere you looked was a sooty amber haze. Once you thought you were going to retch from its potency; it thickened filling your nose and throat until all you could do was swallow the poison down. Time quickly no longer held any meaning for something like you. You who had escaped Hell and lived among hunters, abandoned your post and killed your own kind. Despite having served the King while Earth-side; the rules remained the same. Deserters and mutineers earned their punishments.

You had to pay for what you’d done. The longer you clung to your memories of freedom, the deeper the ache of separation seeped.

December 2, 2014

The Bunker

Chloe had been sidestepping this long enough. Watching Dean going crossed eyed over research was not something that could keep her wandering thoughts at bay. She sauntered around the library table and let her hands roam his tense shoulders. He didn’t respond more than a slight grunt. He felt foreign in her hands, breadth and depth at odds with what her body knew to be true of his abilities. Slowly she saw him fall inch by inch into the sedation of her ministration. With the heat of her mouth on his ear, CC beckoned Dean into his room, hands pulling, while lips teased along his jaw. He hadn’t expected such a reception. When he finally had caught up, she threw him for another loop.

“Listen, there are some things we need to get straight, before we continue what we’re doing here.”

Dean leaned back, holding CC’s thick waist in his strong hands as he squinted at her sudden change of mood. “Okay, if this is gonna be a side of the bed thing, I’m flexible as along as I can get to my gun.” Dean nodded as CC bit both of her lips in mild amusement. “Not that kind of straightening, got it.”

As her warm hands rested on his chest she fiddled with the buttons on his thermal, trying to decide where to start. “Okay, well, how about we decide when it started and what we want from there?”

“Uh, okay, but I am not much for the semantics and anniversaries. We’ve had some fun and kicked some ass. Don’t really need more than that. Do you?”

“What’s important to me is you know what you’ve gotten yourself into.” While still pressing Dean against the door, CC reached up and tied her hair in a black silky ball at the top of her head. “So, when did you first realize I was possessed?”

Dean took her hands in his, dropping them to her side and rocking her upright, so he could stand up. Hunters’ instincts keeping him on guard, even if his knuckles were locked in hers. “I knew for certain when I cleaned your room and it was caked in sulfur, after the dead vessels at Magnus’s. Right after I got the First Blade.”

CC scooted back, breaking contact to pace in a subtle arc and fiddle with her knife handle. “Okay, I don’t remember that, at all. I’m pretty sure that I was already out of control by then.”

Dean’s stomach dropped. “I mean, there was that case that you lost time. North Carolina?”

“Oh, yeah, thought I lost my truck. You were a lifesaver. Okay, that’s longer.” Dean had squared his shoulders, he watched her now with a keyed-up disbelief, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for CC to unleash it all.

“How far back was it really?” Dean closed his eyes, unable to face her answer, knowing that hearing it would be painful enough.

“I’m not sure, she didn’t make a fuss or pack me away at first. I think, Santa Fe? Maybe earlier,” CC admitted, cupping the back of her neck and staring at her feet. Some hunter she was, letting a fucking demon joyride through her life for months. Though they had grown together, in hindsight it was still embarrassing, especially the parts she couldn’t tell him. Of when she watched them together and envied their spark, or the parts she would never tell anyone, when the demon inside Dean scared even the one that was inside of her.

“How much of this–” Dean broke off, with a disgruntled sigh. “How much of it was her?”

CC reached up to touch him now, his voice had cracked, and his jaw struggled against the bitterness. How could someone seem so far away while she could feel his body heat against her skin? He didn’t flinch, but he didn’t lean into the softness of her palm, like before. She watched him try and keep himself together and the space inside her ribs doubled, the walls falling away to more emptiness. “Enough.”

He turned away to clear his tears then, pinching his lips to try and center himself. The Mark’s rage began to build in his temples, failing against all the unwanted emotion and the truth he had to face. CC’s hand fell to her chest, she cradled it over her tender heart, trying, in vain, to stop the damage from spreading. Dean didn’t know how he felt, there was guilt, his old poor-weather friend, but this burden of loss was unexpected, and a new regret too damning to acknowledge. He wanted to pull Chloe to him, to let her dumb the ache.

The two of them together, felt wrong now, incomplete and lopsided. Dean wasn’t sure if she, the demon that had known him, was their missing piece or if they each had simply lost parts of themselves along the way.

A gentle knock on the door broke the moment, CC’s face tightening and Dean’s falling into a familiar lazy grin.

“Guys? It’s Jody.”  Sam held his phone to his chest, tone even, but he missed nothing as they buried their feelings and put their game faces back on.

*^*

Next Chapter: Two Halves, Three Hearts

[spnsimpleman]

With a wink and a smile.

Part two of Anon request series- Unknown gang daughter.  

With the strike of a match Part one of the series- read this first! 

Dean x unknown Daughter, Sam x unknown niece, badass!winchester Reader- is this a thing? Because it should be.

Word Count: 2195

Way down we go- Kaleo

Dean glared at the flickering light over the front door of the police station as he walked up the crumbling front stairs. Sam beat him to the door and held it open watching his brother scan everything with the same frown he gave the stairs. 

“Certainly not up to code, right? No way that can be safe.”

Sam’s brow rose but Dean didn’t seem to need a response as he strode toward the front desk where the only officer in the room stood with his head down writing on something. They pulled out their badges before reaching the desk clerk but the officer didn’t look up from the form in front of him. 

Dean thrust his badge onto the form, shoving the officer’s pen off the page. “Agents Collins and Gabriel. We need to speak to the officer who put out the APB on the suspected arson from yesterday,” Dean practically growled and Sam glanced at him.

The officer’s frown only deepened while glancing at the two badges, “I don’t believe we called in the feds.”

Sam opened his mouth to bring the hostility down a notch but Dean was already racing ahead, “what did you think would happen when someone in your department tacks on one of our most wanted members on that APB, huh, officer…” Dean leaned forward and squinted at the nameplate on his chest, “Simmons?”

The officer pulled back, his confusion hidden quickly behind a mask of indifference, “Detective Briggs can help you. Gutierrez already went home for the night.” He stepped back, turned, and walked through a door behind him.

Dean didn’t bother to wait, going around the desk and heading for the door once it swung shut. Sam grabbed his arm, “we want them to cooperate, what is up with you?”

“What? You’re the one who said this kid needed our help.”

Sam’s brow shot up, “and pissing these people off is going to help?”

Dean sighed, “I’m tired and I want to get this over with. This kid is not going to want anything to do with us and I don’t know what the hell you want me to do.”

Sam looked up at the ceiling, his jaw clenching for a moment before he looked back to his brother. “Take it down a notch and let’s see if we can actually get some real information from these people. At least, see if this girl is just being pigeoned holed or if it’s something else? Is that too hard for you?”

Dean scoffed, stepping toward the door again but froze when it opened and a female detective walked out in a wrinkled pantsuit that flattered not only her dark skin but also her figure. She glanced between the two of them lacking the attitude the desk officer held and Dean grinned. She gave them a tired smile and held out her hand, “Collins and Gabriel?” Dean shook her hand and Sam followed, “sorry fellas, but she was just released. I wasn’t aware there was a high-level target on the girl’s record.”

Sam coughed, “well, not quite a high level, but we get notified when things like that pop. We were in the area so our supervisor wanted us to check it out.”

“I thought all her guardians were deceased, well, besides the foster home she fled?”

“Those Winchesters have surprised us before. Could be relatives to this girl, can never be too sure,” Dean smiled and relaxed, slipping his hands into his pockets.

Sam kept his annoyance under his false smile, “anyway, what are your thoughts on this girl? She’s got quite the record.”

She looked at Dean first then Sam before sighing and crossing her arms over her chest, “honestly, I think the APB was thrown out a little quick on this. My personal belief is that girl might have just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, but that’s what happens when things get too close to a certain part of town and there’s any kind of tie to one of the gangs. I’m sure you know how it is in cities like this. Overworked and underpaid but the city still wants quick results when it comes too close to a certain side of town.”

Dean nodded with raised brows, “oh, we know.” She chuckled and Sam rolled his eyes.

Sam tried to give Dean a cool it look but his brother didn’t take his eyes off the detective, “Detective Briggs, do you mind if I ask how long you’ve worked here?”

She tore her gaze away from Dean and gave Sam a small nod, “I transferred two years ago. The chief has been trying to pull in new officers for the past five years. Ever since the budget cuts started. He thought getting some fresh eyes in here might help with these kinds of things. You get officers that jump the gun and just want to get some of the cases closed and out of the way.”

“And that’s what you think happened here?”

She glanced over her shoulder and thought for a moment before meeting his gaze again, “some of these street kids just need an advocate, you know? The young ones are told to take the fall for something so the real aggressors aren’t taken out of the game and youngin’s don’t get as much time but that kinda thing stays with them. The gangs don’t care and these kids fall through the cracks. Was that girl in the area of that fire? Yes. The ash was all over her. Was she the one who started it? I don’t know but I can guarantee you this wasn’t her idea. She sat there for hours and I didn’t see a guilty kid, I saw a girl who’s been blamed for things so many times she’s just waiting to be charged and done with it. My partner didn’t feel the same and tried to get her to pin it on her boss. I’m not a fan of sending a kid in to do a cop’s job.”

“She’s twenty years old,” Dean said, his disbelief clear.

“Did you know exactly who you were at twenty years old? This girl has been in foster care since she was twelve and on the streets since she was sixteen. She’s been pushed around by who knows how many people who were supposed to take care of her.”

“You seem pretty intent on protecting this girl,” Sam wondered aloud.

She searched Sam’s face for something and then nodded, satisfied at whatever it was she found, “I believe in innocent until proven guilty. I grew up in a city like this not too far from here where that wasn’t the case with most. I also take the time to look deeper before I slap a charge on a kid. She got her first arrest less than a year after being shuffled into this side of the city before then she was an ace student living with her mother and stepfather without a single issue on her record. But that’s just me.”

She walked around Dean and leaned back against the desk, “my partner, on the other hand, thinks she’s an ace student that turned into a criminal mastermind. He’s been around longer and has arrested her before. The gangs do like to get them young and train them to be exactly what they want them to be.” She shrugged, “either one of us could be right.”

Sam caught Dean’s frown at the same time his phone vibrated in his pocket. He gave the detective a nod, “thank you for your time, Detective Briggs.”

She smiled and turned to Dean who held out his hand to shake hers again. Sam walked away and had already gotten back to the car, pulled out his laptop, and turned it on by the time Dean made it outside.

Dean looked over at the screen, “what is it?”

“Thanks to Charlie, I’m looking at your daughter’s arrests. We’re going to check out some of these spots and see if we can find her.”

Dean was looking around with wide eyes, “you wanna keep that down. Sheri seems to have a damn good handle on the whole protecting the innocent thing.”

Sam paused and turned to his brother, “Sheri?”

“What?” He smirked, “she also said she’d keep us up to date on the case.”

Sam rolled his eyes and turned back to his laptop, “we’re splitting these up and we’re going to talk to her before we leave. A few of these places they arrested her for loitering. Probably hoping to catch her on possession or distribution but she’s smart even if she was running with the wrong crowd.”

Dean snorted, “like we’re the right crowd?”

“Better than this.” He waved at the screen filled with her arrest records.

Dean shook his head, “whatever you say, Sammy. Let’s get this over with, I’m starving.”

~~

Dean walked down dirty streets glancing into alleyways as he passed trying to imagine a girl from a good home being thrown out here. What if he and Sammy lost everything in the fire and got thrown into a place like this? He always felt more at ease hunting than trying to do the normal thing. Wouldn’t be that far of a stretch to imagine doing the same things with a gang. Except for drugs and killing people.

He shook his head. What did he know? Maybe he’d see other people as monsters if he grew up around crazy adults that taught him to see it that way.

Who the hell was he to judge anybody?

A dark-skinned boy glared at him from a relaxed stance against a light pole up ahead. The kid couldn’t be older than sixteen. Dean nodded as he passed him.

The kid sneered, “keep moving, old man.”

He shook his head and continued forward. That kid was too young to be out here but Sheri’s words played again in his head. He imagined the girl from the APB picture leaning there, doing the same thing. That girl wouldn’t want anything to do with him. What the hell was he supposed to say?

Hey, I’m the dude from that arrest record. The one they tacked on to make you appear worse. Sorry. Life sucks, right?

He shook the image away and cursed himself for allowing Sam to guilt trip him. Familiar sounds of a scuffle came from the next alley up and he slowed down until he stopped in the mouth of it.

A big guy on top of a girl on the ground, obviously trying to pull at her pants. Dean stepped into the alley, the shout on the tip of his tongue when he froze. She lashed out and moved away so fast, the man’s cry easy to assume she used more than just her fist. Words were exchanged but he couldn’t hear them, he moved further into the alley then the man was jumping on her again but his shriek this time is louder. The man fumbled back and she said something he couldn’t hear over the adrenaline rushing through him.

She turned toward him and started walking.

“That’s right! Walk away, bitch,” the man on the ground shouted.

“What a dumbass,” Dean murmured but still didn’t make a move. She was facing him but he wasn’t sure she could see him. Not with all these burned out lights and nothing but some murky light coming from the other end of the alley.

She turned and moved back to the guy on the ground speaking low enough again that he couldn’t make out the words. She stomped her foot and swung her leg at him but it didn’t look like her foot connected. The guy howled but something was wrong about it.

A shiver ran down Dean’s spine.

She turned and walked away from the guy, nothing stopping her this time.

As she closed in on Dean, some of the light coming from a window smudged with dirt and grease from his side of the alley bathed her face and he stiffened. She looked him up and down, a scowl quickly covered by nonchalance. “Don’t stare, old man. It’s not polite.” Then with a smirk, she winked, “oh and pro tip, around here that’ll get you gutted.”

She sauntered away and Dean pulled out his phone, stabbed the speed dial number he needed, and brought it to his ear as he turned around and stepped out of the alley and onto the sidewalk.

“You find anything?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, and I don’t think that picture idea is a good one anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“Flashing her picture… you were right. Maybe not because of…”

“What the hell is going on?”

“I don’t think she needs our help, Sammy. This… woman can take care of herself.”

“That doesn’t mean she has to. I’m not leaving here until we talk to her.”

Dean glanced down the street and caught a glimpse of her under a barely surviving street light. “I might be able to follow her. Head down towards fifteenth. She’s passing a flickering light post on twelfth now. I’ll text any changes in direction.”

Part Three- With a flick of my blade.

Taglist: I see you! @thefaithfulwriter , @dalia-artistik , @justkending

[deans-baby-momma]

To Play or Be Played

A/N: Written for @spnDeanBingo. The one picture is an original idea by my friend Samantha (who this is written for) that she got to make come true at Nashcon 2019.                                                            

Summary: A game of hustling pool leads to something no one was expecting.

Pairing: Samantha “Star” + Dean

Squares filled: hustling pool.

Warnings: fluff, crack (maybe), poorly written pool game

WC: 1,668

Walking into the bar, she notices the looks the other patrons gave to the new arrivals. Especially the females. They were all enamored with her best friends and partners, the Winchesters. And who could really fault them for it; Sam and Dean were quite handsome. This was something that she was used to.

For three years now, Samantha Willington fought side by side with the guys; ever since they drove into her town in the sleek black car and took out the shapeshifter that had taken over her boss’ existence. Thanks to her intuition and her keen sense of foreboding, she had helped them take out the monster using her extensive knowledge of the differences between the man portraying her boss and her actual boss. After the case was solved and while Dean packed up the car, Sam had been the one to invite her to leave with them. And with the monotonous mundanity of her life, she decided to take them up on their offer of going on the road with them.

Now here it was 3 years later and they had battled and taken out things that most people couldn't even imagine was out there. All with her two best friends, Sam and Dean Winchester.

Dean often joked about being on the road with two nerds named Sammy, to which they both would just roll their eyes. She felt comfortable with the guys. She and Sam had connected over their love of the arts and researching cases. As for Dean, Samantha had bonded with him over their mutual love of drinking and having a good time. It was she and Dean who would hit up the local watering holes after whatever case was finished. And if they were still on the case, a nightcap was always enjoyed in her room. It was during one of their usual nightcaps that Dean had given her her nickname, Star.

~~FLASHBACK~~

“Star?” Samantha asked, perplexed when the word had slipped through his buzzed lips.

“Well yea,” Dean answered, “Calling you Sam or Sammy is just confusing. Samantha just seems so….formal. Not to mention, a mouthful,” he explained before he took another drink from his bottle. “And Tex is too common for someone from Texas.”

“So why Star?” she inquired.

“Well, Texas is known as the Lone Star state and I was just thinking….you could be a Star. I can think of something else if you don’t like it,” he had said, sounding defeated.

“Ok, Star it is then,” she smiled as she reached over and clicked the necks of the beer bottles together.

~~END FLASHBACK~~

Tonight, they were all out to celebrate a job well done. The ghost of a college professor who wanted revenge on those who cost him his tenure position and family had been haunting his old office building. Turns out the man had practically cost himself the job when it was determined that many students received extra credit for “extra work”. A notebook listing the names of the students and what sexual favors they had performed was hidden in the wall of his office and somehow he was attached to that. Throwing the notebook onto a flame laid the ghost to rest and put the students and other professors at ease. Now here they were, three tricenarians, in a college hangout to officially close out the case.

Star and Sam found a booth near the back while Dean approached the bar to get the first round.

Four beers later, Dean and Star had switched to shots and Sam had headed back to the motel. For someone in his early 30s, Sam was a wet towel when it came to celebrating. As Dean was sitting up the next row of shots, Star began surveying their surroundings. The dance floor was packed with college aged kids grinding to whatever trash the jukebox was belting out. The modern music was nothing she enjoyed; give her classic rock or a good slow song any day. This garbage that was being released now days grated on her nerves. Over in the corner a group of coeds were sitting around a table, drinking and laughing. In the very back of the bar, Star saw a couple of guys surrounding a pool table, both with a cue in their hand.

“Hey Dean,” she asked as she turned her attention back to her drinking partner. “How’s our funds looking?”

Dean took his first shot and hissed through his teeth, the burn of the liquor still fresh. “Dwindling. If we don’t make some soon, we’ll be sleeping in Baby.”

Star smiled and took her shot, not wanting to get too far behind and listen to the ridiculing. “I have an idea. Gimme fifteen.” She lifted the next glass in her row and downed the amber liquid, shaking her head.

Making her way through the masses, Star approached the pool table. “Hey guys! Whatcha doing?” she slurred, although she wasn’t nearly drunk enough to actually not be able to form words correctly.

A blue-eyed, blonde haired guy turned toward her and eyed her up and down. “Just shooting pool. What’s a gorgeous girl like you doing all by yourself?”

Star pretended to be affected by his obvious flirtation by bowing her head and giggling.

“Ah, come on sweet cheeks, no need to be embarrassed,” 'Blondie' teased. His buddy, approaches her from the opposite side.

“No reason to be all shy around us. We’re harmless,” 'Buddy' says as he sweeps her hair off her shoulder. “So why did you come over here? You see something you like?”

“Hey, Carl. Lay off dude. You’re going to scare her off,” Blondie told Carl, who backed away. “I’m Greg. What’s your name sweet cheeks?”

“Samantha.”

“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” Greg said. He handed a pool cue her way. “Wanna play?”

Star hid a smirk as she took the stick. “I’m not any good, but sure.” She knew she had them hooked because Dean had taught her how to play pool and she was extremely good at it.

Carl gathered up the colorful balls and put them in the triangle. Once they were to his liking he lifted the rack and Greg handed her the white cue. “Ladies first.”

Star placed the cue ball on the felt and went to position herself for the first shot. Carl and Greg started laughing and she stood up, looking at them. “What? Am I doing it wrong?”

Greg stopped laughing long enough to tell her, “You’re holding the stick backwards.”

Star fake laughed at herself and turned the stick around. “Oops.”

Carl walked up to the table and placed a $50 bill on the edge. “Let’s make this interesting. This here-” he said, holding the note on the wood. “-is yours if you can make at least 5 in.”

“Pfft,” Star huffed. “I can’t do that. I’ll be lucky to break them apart.”

Greg came up behind her. “How about I teach you?” He put one of his hand over hers on the stick and the other on her lower back. “Make him eat his words. What do you say?”

Star giggled. “Okay.” She allowed Greg to ‘teach’ her how to play the game until all that was left on the table was the black 8-ball.

“I think I got the hang of it.” she said as she leaned over the edge of the table, lined up the shot and took it. She pretended to be stunned as the 8-ball landed in it’s mark. “Oh my god! I did it!”

Star, Greg and Carl played two more games, the boys of course winning both of them and was racking up the third game when Dean sauntered over, pretending to be drunk.

“Hey fellas,” Dean slurred perfectly. He squinted toward Star and smiled. “And lady.” Star rolled her eyes at the dramatics Dean was going to in order to play off their friendship. Greg stepped over to her and draped his arm around her shoulders, apparently trying to protect her from the drunken man who had interrupted them. ‘Oh if only you knew you have no chance in hell against him,’ she thought to herself.

Dean talked the two college boys into playing a game against him and after losing the first one, the betting began. Dean bent down to start the next game and subtly glanced up at Star across the table, dropping that Winchester smirk. He knew they had the college boys hook, line and sinker  

When it was all said and done, Star and Dean were almost $1K richer and Greg and Carl was in the corner licking their wounds.

Dean grabbed Star’s hand, linking their fingers as they passed by the lads. “Thanks for the entertainment fellas. Me and my girl had a blast!” Star’s laughter rang throughout the bar as she and Dean walked out and headed toward the Impala.

Dean opens the passenger door for her and shuts it after she is in. Star watches as Dean walks around the front of the car and slides into the driver seat. Something he said in the bar had struck a chord with her and she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to feel about it. She didn’t want to end the night on a somber note.

Once they arrived at the motel, Dean followed her to her room and as she stuck her keycard in to unlock the door she took the chance. “Dean, can I ask you something?” she asked turning the knob but looking over her shoulder at her best friend and hunting partner.

“Sure. What’s up?” Dean asked as he followed her into her room.

Sitting the key on the little table at the side, Star took a breath and turned toward him. “Back at the bar you said something and I don’t know….” she trailed off, not sure how to continue. Gathering her courage, she looked up into his eyes and went for it. “You called me ‘your girl’.”

TO BE CONTINUED…

@spnDeanBingo

@larajadescmidt

@spnbaby-67

@flamencodiva

[alexielwrites]

A Christmas Song

Title: A Christmas Song

Webcricket's Advent Calendar Day 9: Hark The Herald Angel Sings

Rating: Fluff

Pairing: Castiel x Reader

Word Count: 1,229

A/N: I think I killed a few people with Peppermint, if the reblogs are anything to go by lol. I hope this makes amends for that vicious curve ball I threw in the aforementioned story. ^_^;

DO NOT POST THIS ANYWHERE ELSE, I WILL NEVER GIVE PERMISSION FOR THAT.

It was quiet in the bunker as you lounged on your bed, watching classic Christmas movies the way you did every year at Christmas. You didn't care much for being in the bunker alone, but Sam and Dean were out working a last minute case while you took some time to relax. The last few months had been rough for everyone, but you had taken it a little harder than the boys.

That was all neither here or there though, you were getting some much needed time off from hunting and were determined to enjoy it. Though you knew you would enjoy it more if you could get some sleep without having nightmares about the last few cases you went on. It wasn't uncommon, a hunter with nightmares, that was just part of the job sometimes, and you were no stranger to them. But it was worse this time, you had almost lost Cas.

Oh you had heard the stories that he'd died before and been brought back, but that was before you really knew him all that well. After a hunt gone wrong a few years ago, your partner had died and you had gone on something of a hunting spree until you met up with Sam and Dean again. They had convinced you to join them instead, giving you a home of sorts, a family to support you. And you loved both of them for it, and more so because you were able to meet Castiel.

As if on cue, you felt the air shift before he appeared a few feet away from you, smiling at him as you shifted and sat up on the bed, “Hey Cas.” He glanced at the tv before focusing his attention on you and walking over to the side of the bed, “Dean told me that you were sitting out this case, are you alright, Y/N?” Reaching out, you slid your hand into his and couldn't help but smile when you felt the instant reaction as he closed his hand around yours. It had taken some time for him to understand that you had liked the touch, the connection.

“I just needed a break, the last few cases haven't been easy for me.” You explained as you took comfort in the feel of your angel so near you, the warmth of his hand in your own. And he nodded as he sat down beside you on the bed and let those endless blue eyes meet your (e/c) ones, “You have not been sleeping well, I can help.” He said as he reached out with his other hand, but you stopped him before his fingertips touched your forehead.

“Thank you, but I don't want it to come like that, Cas.” For a few seconds you saw him falter, but then he dropped his hand and nodded, respecting your decision even if it was clear he didn't like it. You let go of his hand and shifted so you could curl in against his side, seeking out the warmth and comfort that always seemed to be present with you were with him.

Castiel curled his arm around you, letting you tuck yourself close against his side, “What can I do to help you sleep, Y/N?”

“Just stay here with me for a little while, Cas.” You said quietly, soaking up the feel of him there against you as he shifted the both of you so you were laying down again. He didn't need to sleep, but he had spent more than a few nights with you since the two of you had started dating. Well, you wouldn't really call it dating, since the two of you hadn't managed to have a real date, but you were still seeing each other exclusively.

It didn't really matter how it was explained, the two of you were together and you were both happy with how the relationship was going. You glanced up at him, finding that he was looking down at you, almost like he was watching over you. Reaching up, you  trailed your fingertips over his cheek, feeling the slight stubble there that you loved so much.

Turning a little more toward you, Castiel leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, though the action didn't surprise you as much as it used to. He had gotten more comfortable with being the one to kiss you first, but it always made you smile when he did because it was a reflection of his feelings. Cas didn't do things unless he wanted to, so it always made you happy when he did something like this.

Shifting closer to him, you kissed him back as softly as he was kissing you, beyond contented to have your angel there with you again. The kiss didn't last long though, and you opened your eyes to gaze up at him when he leaned back from it a few moments later. He was so beautiful that it made your heard ache just to look at him, still awed that he was actually yours. Curling you close to him where he knew you liked to be, he gave his comfort freely and you didn't hesitate in taking what you could get.

Your body wanted to sleep though, it needed to recharge but you were trying to put it off because of those nightmares you kept having. With Cas here with you though, you could feel the pull more strongly now because you knew he would keep you safe with him. His hand softly stroked your back as the two of you lay there together, and you allowed your eyes to close. Not sleep just yet, but just letting your eyes close to enjoy the moment a little more.

That was when you heard him start singing, not very loud, but loud enough for you to hear. And it was quite possibly the sweetest thing you've ever heard. Not because he was amazing at it, though he wasn't bad either, it was because he was doing it for you. He was singing you the same song you'd first taught him, it was a song that was for both of you and he was singing it now to soothe you.

And it did, you could feel your body relaxing even more as you lay there listening to your angel sing as he did his best to lull you to sleep. His grace was always around you when the two of you were together, but right now it was curled close just the way his arms were holding you close. You hugged him a little tighter and he turned his head to lay his cheek against the top of your head, pulling your blanket up over you as he cut the lights off.

His voice soothed and lulled you further and further toward sleep, until you finally drifted off with a little smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. And Cas stayed there, singing softly and keeping the nightmares at bay for you.

@webcricket @waywardangelcupcake

[wonderfulworldofwinchester]

The Sweet In Bittersweet

Demon!Dean x Reader, Crowley, Sam 

Request by Anon: Request By Anon: Hay, could you write a Deanmon/Reader fic in which Dean shows up at the bunker at night after months of disappearing and wants to take the Reader with him and Crowley. She agrees because she secretly loves him and doesn’t want to loose him again and she left a note to Sam. She has a hard time at the beginning to get used to his demon side and that he doesn’t want to be cured. Dean is still protective & fluffy over her. I’m curious how they will live together. Thank you! I love your work. 😍😍😍

Warnings: demon!Dean, language?(idk really) , mentions of violence. 

Word Count: 1412

A/N: This is my first fic in a long hot minute due to many health issues in my family, also I effed up my shoulder and it hurts to write but I am trying to get this out, so apologies if this is kinda crappy. 

   MASTERLIST        Asks/Feedback       

Losing him was everything you never wanted, the worst nightmare your mind could scare up, and was exactly what happened. You’d always thought that would mean seeing him get gutted by some monster, or him offering up his life for another, but that’s just not how it happened. 

The truth was he wasn’t gone, well not completely. The man you once knew was dead, yet the body he walked in was still reminiscent of him. That was by far the most heartbreaking piece in the puzzle. He still walked the earth, but now as a demon. 

For months you wandered aimlessly though the bunker. Your head elsewhere, not focused on anything in the present, only on the man you had grown to love, and the man you now mourned the loss of. Sam had his own levels of grief to process, and let’s be honest, he was a little more proactive and hands on, yet he still tried to look out for you. 

The pain never totally subsided, but rather became a dull ache you could suppress long enough to get the job done. You had taught yourself to push on, and to not allow your mind to drift. Little by little, day by day, your world began to regain some sense of normalcy. You finally felt like your feet were on the ground, and that you were making progress, and you were, but all that came to a screeching halt with a few raps of knuckles against the door and a simple proposition. 

Sam was gone on another mission to try to suss out where Dean was hiding, and you were stationed at the bunker listlessly flipping through some newspapers , trying to decide if a local death could be something to hunt. You had traded the music in for the peaceful quiet that the library offered, which in turn allowed you to hear the soft rapping on the bunker’s door. 

Like a true hunter, you guard was up. Nothing and no one should be able to find this place if they weren’t among your ranks, and Sam certainly wouldn’t knock. You drew your gun, flicking the safety off as you arose from the chair. Years of hunting allowed you to move across the room and up the stairs in relative silence. Your hand gripped the handle, and you opened it gun first. You weren’t sure what you should expect, but what your eyes landed on was certainly one of the last things you could have imagined. 

Standing there in the doorway was none other than Dean Winchester. The initial shock wore off, and you took a step back, squaring up your stance, and raising your gun as he spoke. “Hi-ya Y/N.” he flashed that signature Dean smirk, only this time with a side of jet black eyes. 

“What are you doing here?” You prodded. “We’ve looked for you for months, and you’ve dodged us every time we got a lead, so why show up now?” 

He took a step closer, and into the bunker, causing you to readjust your position. “Oh come on sweetheart. You and I both know you won’t shoot me, so why not just go ahead and put that thing away.” He was right, and you knew it. His hand came up and pushed the barrel of the gun down. “Now, see that’s better.” He ginned. “To answer your question, I am here for you, Y/N.” 

His words sent s chill up your spine, and caused you to take another step back. “Excuse me?” 

“Would you stop being so jumpy. If I were here to kill you, you’d be dead, and you know it.” 

“What could you possibly want then?” You hissed.

His strong hands opened by his sides, “Isn’t it obvious, Y/N? I want you. I came for the thing I’ve always wanted.” Your back was now up against the rail across from the door, and his body had caged you in, breath ghosting over your ear, “Come with me.”

“Why would I do that?” 

He let out a little chuckle. “You said it yourself, you’ve spent months tracking me down, you obviously want me too.” 

“Wanting you, and wanting to cure you are two different things.” 

“Yea, well that ain’t gonna happen, sugar, so what’s it gonna be.” He turned and started to walk out the door, pausing to look back at you. 

Your hand started to close the door, “Goodbye, Dean.” Something came over you, and you jut couldn’t do it. Yes, he was a demon, but somewhere deep down he was still your Dean, and you just couldn’t risk losing him again. You opened the door again, seeing him walking away. “Dean, wait.” He looked over his shoulder, smirk evident. “I’ll go with you, just give me a minute to get my stuff.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” 

Within minutes you had your belongings ready to go, and had a small piece of paper in hand. You carefully laid the note down on your bed. Sam- I’m sorry, I had to. Don’t bother looking for me. - Y/N. 

With that, you were out the door, pausing to look back at the place you had called home for years. 

You’d be lying if you said the transition was easy. The truth of it was that it was anything but easy. The demons you had hunted down and despised were now right around you all the time. Sure you had gotten used to Crowley and his nonsense a long time ago due to his help with certain cases, but nothing ever came close to seeing him all the time. Turns out, he can be rather annoying. 

The biggest change came when Dean wanted to be affectionate. Your body craved it, and you wanted to want it, but for a while it seemed so wrong. Your mind just wouldn’t get out of the way. I mean he was a demon for crying out loud. Every bone in your body screamed at the thought of you, a hunter, with a demon. Every day for the first couple months was like a battlefield in you mind. 

Yes, his demon behavior, and the black eyes, and the killing ,and everything else was unsettling, but you realized rather quickly there was more to it than that. When he got away from Crowley, the other demons, and his ‘job’, he was sweet as could be. I mean the man practically fell at your feet when you walked in. This big bad demon melted when he was with you. I know right, what the hell. 

He treated you like a queen. Nothing was too good for his girl. He made sure you had everything you could ever want, and that you always felt loved. Those were the things that reminded you of why you had fallen for Dean so many years ago. With that kind of treatment, it wasn’t long before you started to own it. You walked around like you knew who you were. Not that you didn’t before, but now it was a whole new level. You were somebody, and that somebody belonged to freaking demon Dean Winchester. Nothing was gonna mess with you, well if they knew what was good for them. 

The demons who once harassed you and made your life miserable in the beginning were now hurriedly shuffling out of your way as you entered a room; your presence commanding respect. 

You would accompany Dean when he met with Crowley at bars simply to annoy him. He hated the way you hung on Dean’s arm, and the way he looked at you with soft eyes. “Must you bring her?”

“What’s the matter Crowley, jealous?” You couldn’t help but to smirk at the look on his face in response to Dean’s words. 

“Would you please just give us a minute?” 

Dean looked around and spotted the bartender eyeing you from afar. “She stays, or I make a scene, you choose.” Victory dance in your head, and you stuck your tongue out at Crowley. 

“Oh really, darling. I mean seriously.” 

These meetings always ended the same way, Dean being really sweet and kissing your temples as he whispered loving words in your ear, resulting in a very whiny Crowley pretending to puke. “Oh come on, you’re turning my attack dog into a little puppy!” 

If you would like to be added to one of my taglists, just ask :) 

The Anything and Everything: @tillielynn16 @fandomaskedstuff @naruko88558855 @hillface89 @saltysamgirls @unusualcorn @trilloku-blog

The Deano @straitsupernaturalmalefan @angelofchaos @kayladools @pandazombie69@brindz30 

[forgotaboutadam]

Bio

Name: Adam Milligan Winchester

D.O.B: September 29, 1990

Born: Windom Minnesota

Age: 29

gender: Male

Species: Human/Archangel

hair: Blonde

eye color: Blue

Body build: Average

height: 1.85 m

weight: 154 lbs

sexuality: Closet Gay

martial status: Single

Parents: Kate Milligan and John Winchester

education: Minnesota state university

occupation: student

residence: In the cage in hell with two archangel

early years.

when It was just mom and me in the early years when mom finally told me about my bio father. my mom was a nurse in Windom, Minnesota when he came into the hospital that mom was working at when he was injured on a hunt. you can imagine they got close and I was born nine months later. that to my dad screwing my mum I'm here just a single child with an absent father and hard-working mom. I didn't have any contact with my biological father John Winchester until I was around twelve years old when he turns up, I did get to know John over the next few years as he would pop by around my birthday each year when he taught me how to play pool and he even took me to a spaceball game. however, all I wanted to get close to him but he was a strict father and I could only see him on his terms. it's not like I could pick up the phone and call him. this would be breaking his rules. at least had a little relationship with him. I never know what his big mystery was but I wasn't going to push it. maybe he was just a private man after all. one of the perks was when he came to visit he even taught me how to drive. the one thing about my old man he had a great car and I was allowed to learn to drive in his black impala 67.

Now

I still remember being locked up in that room with Zachariah treating me with all the juicy supplies like its last supper for myself. Waiting for the arrival of the archangel Michael. All that hell and heaven wanted to be a fight between Lucifer and Michael, two brothers that never got on. Maybe this was a jealous matter but I and my two half brothers Sam and Dean were all drag into their family drama. For myself, I didn't have the best relationship with my brothers as I didn't know they existed. My mom was a single mom she raised and my dad would pop by at least once a year around my birthday. I knew him for like a few days then he would take off again. Because of his work commitments as I thought. I found out that my mom was taken by a creature. I tried to contact my own father but I found out I actually had two older siblings. This was a shock for me as I never had any idea of them. I believe I was an only child. I think it was a shock for them too. With my older sibling Dean not believing a word that I was saying about our father John. He wasn't pleased with me at all. He was right in my face when I told him our father took me to a space ball game. I found him a little aggressive and controlling at first. No matter what I say about him and my other brother Sam. The boys accomplished tracking down my mother. She was killed. This is when I found out my family was actually hunters. Not the kind that takes the hounds in the woods but the kinds that hunt people are scared of. You could even say they were kind of some heroes taking on the supernatural world. That the supernatural world was real was an eye-opener for yours truly. You can say my life has taken a turn knowing about their lives. I was interested in getting to know them. With Sam and Dean being them, I wasn't allowed to go. Dean would always say no. He can't, He really hated me as I thought he never wanted to do anything with me. Not even go for a beer. It's always him and his Sammy. Welcome to my world. The spare wheel was not required Dean refused to deal with the archangel's dilemmas. I was taken to this room that looked great from the inside with plenty of beers and burgers waiting for me when Zachariah, an angel approached with the offer of a vessel for Michael. suddenly my brothers raced in. Maybe they did care about me after all or they might be just doing their job. Well, I'll never know for sure. With dean making a deal to get Michael to come down. After squabbling with Zachariah. Dean carried his brother Sam out of the room who was injured. For me, I didn't make it out in time before the door was locked. Here I am stuck in a room with Michael who took over my body. When he was in control now. I was just the driver of this train wreck. all I could hear was this guy screaming in my head. making me go to places where he needed to go like tracking down his younger brother. A few days had passed when the arranged was made that Lucifer and myself okay Michael was going to have their war that all of heavens wanted. and it did happen when my own brothers we're there when the fight began. The ground was shaking with the ground opening-up from where I was standing. It felt like an actual earthquake. I tried to hold on to the grass to stop falling in shooting on my older brother out for help, he was just too far away to help when a fell into the freak hole. It's was dar, felt like I had been falling for a while until I was in a cage locked up with two archangels wanting to tear each other apart.

It's been many many years now. I've been stuck in his hell hole with these two archangels. tear themselves part with the injuries of my body. He only perk I have it's archangel owns my ass I've been able to lock out the pain of Lucifer. Shame I can't get images out my head. No one will ever know. Anytime I close my eyes I just see Lucifer face what the nightmares I have no one human should ever have to suffer this.every day was like a torture chamber. The blood falling from my skin. The crawls ripping into my skin. The chunks of body parts being torn apart my flesh being spreading around this cage with no way out with forest field surrounded the cage. Lighting striking and hitting the cage every second. No way I could ever close my eyes with the sound surrounded the cage. Here I am looking through my eyes to the red poison archangel. Michael and Lucifer would never stop fighting in the cage. If their body we're shredding up like pieces of lettuce they will heal themselves and go at it again. I still have the scars embedding into my brain Every day I hope my brothers would come and save me from this but no such day ever came. At least I only had to suffer Lucifer rage for two hundred years as hell works differently down here to upstairs. Every month upstairs is a decade here. When Lucifer managed to escape the case it's was a blessing in disguise. Where I could work with Michael. He was pissed that his little brother was out and we were stuck in many of thousands of years which felt like an eternity.he was so disappointed in this world he was trapped in this cage. He knew he couldn't torture me any longer when we made a pack that I would be allowed him to control me. Where I was allowed to be me in my own body. Michael and I didn't know what happened but the forest field around the cage that was trapped up in for all the years had got weak enough for Michael to use his powers to break us free. Where we were finally free. Where Michael and I would be able to walk this world. Both of us had issues to settle. Michael wanted to get his brother and I wanted to find my own brothers to find out why have I been forget about.

[sammy-moo]

The Hunter’s Son Pt. 6

Characters: Sam x Reader (Eventually), Dean, Bobby, OMC (Jonah)

Summary: During a missing childrens’ case, Sam runs into a familiar face and one that looks much like his own. Now Sam has to tackle something just as difficult as hunting: fatherhood

Words: 1,588

Warnings: Slight angst

~Series Masterlist~

After placing his stuff into Dean’s vehicle, Sam climbed into the car with his brother. Dean was grateful his brother had finally understood his view on killing Amy. However, something was still under his brother’s skin.

“We should probably go see Y/N and Jonah so you can visit with them.”

Sam rolled his eyes and huffed at that. “Let’s just find another case.”

Dean frowned a bit, “I thought you wanted to get to know your son Sam?”

“I do Dean! I just don’t wanna be around her right now.”

“Okay I get that Sam, but don’t neglect Jonah because of it.”

Sam gave his brother a look, “I’m not going to do that Dean! I’m just- she hid something from me… She had this box full of photos, articles, and even phone numbers… She had our phone numbers Dean- she tracked us. She had the articles over Jessica dying too… I just- I don’t get it… If she knew how to reach me why didn’t she? I mean, Jonah asked about me! He had to! And all she did was answer and never call me? He’s wanted to meet me and instead she was selfish and scared! She didn’t call. I- I’ve missed so much Dean… And to know I could’ve been there…” Tears fell down Sam’s face and he quickly wiped them away.

Dean sighed, “Sam you gotta think. You were hunting. She probably was afraid that if she told you Jonah would somehow get involved.”

Sam nodded. “Right… You’re probably right.”

“Probably? I am right,” Dean smirked.

Sam chuckled softly and shook his head.

While they drove back to the safehouse, you had decided to read some of Bobby’s books.

Part of you always wondered about hunting since the accident happened in college. It always seemed so interesting and you wanted to learn as much as you could. But once Jonah saw you reading about it, he wanted in too. He wanted to be like Sam and Dean and be a hero. You tried to tell your son no but he wasn’t listening. Thankfully Bobby was able to get him off your back. The two had managed to grow close within the past few days. They would play catch or Bobby would tell him stories about hunts he’s been on.

But today, Bobby was talking about guns and teaching him anything he needed to know. Jonah wouldn’t get to use or hold a real gun until he was at least 10. For now, he was stuck with toy guns and maybe a BB gun.

At first Bobby was hesitant about teaching Jonah any of it, but then you gave him the okay.

Besides, you wanted your son off your back about becoming a hunter. While you knew it was important to support and let him make his own choices, you had to cut it off there. You wanted to keep him safe and that meant the only hunting he could do was animals and not monsters. And of course, Bobby majored in both categories.

There was no way Bobby would admit it, but he truly loved spending time with Jonah. He grew to learn just how smart and kind he was. There were times he would have an attitude or not take no for an answer, but one thing was clear: he was definitely a Winchester. He carried many traits of Sam and Dean, even down to his mother. Bobby understood that things may have not been easy, but you definitely did a good job so far with him.

There was potential within Jonah. It was clear he would be just like his father and grow up to be a hero. Whether he joined the family business or went on to do something else in life.

However, one thing Jonah asked Bobby had him completely stunned. He was curious so it was natural he would ask that question, but the one that followed? Bobby was always braced for anything- except that.

“Are you their uncle or something?”

Bobby shook his head as he kept going with the lesson, “No. I raised those two as if they were my own boys. I just knew their daddy.”

Jonah blinked and thought it over, “Then can I call you Grandpa?”

Bobby froze. His hands stopped moving as he cleaned the gun. He wasn’t that old was he? He had to have heard him right, “Come again?”

“Can I call you Grandpa?”

Bobby scoffed a bit, “I’m not that old, kid.”

“Old enough to be my grandpa.”

Bobby chuckled a bit at his quick comeback. In all honesty he was flattered. “It’s just Bobby to you.”

Jonah began pouting, “Please Grandpa!”

Bobby shook his head, “Bobby. Now focus so I can keep teaching ya.”

You were halfway through your pile of books when Sam and Dean arrived. The sight of you studying monsters had Sam both confused and worried. All his emotions from earlier were practically gone. Especially since Dean was right. You didn’t want Jonah in danger.

Dean made his way past, going to see Bobby and Jonah.

Sam sighed and walked over, taking the seat across from you. “Y/N, I’m sorry about last night… I was just upset and I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. You clearly had your--”

“I forgive you Sam. It’s no big deal. I would’ve been upset too. I’m just… I’m glad you don’t hate me.”

Sam frowned, “Hate you? God no… Y/N I don’t hate you.”

You nodded, completely relieved.

Sam smiled a bit, “Where’s Jonah?”

“Out back with Bobby. Bobby is teaching him a few things.”

Sam nodded, “I’ll be back.” Sam got up and went for the back door, stopping to listen to the two.

Dean and Bobby were chatting while Jonah was allowed to shoot the BB pellets at beer bottles.

“I hope those idjits get their underwear out of a bunch,” grumbled Bobby.

Dean chortled, “I’m sure they did. It had Sammy upset because of all these papers he found.”

Bobby shook his head, “Trust me, I heard my fair share of what was in that box. Y/N was freaking out thinking she messed up. Once I talked her down she just buried her nose into the lore… I don’t like the circumstances I had to meet Sam’s kid. He’s been brought into this part of the world at a hell of a time. I just hope they realize they can’t keep him from it. I get Sam wants to let Jonah have a life unlike your daddy let you two have, but right now there’s no chance. Not while these damn leviathans are running around.”

Dean crossed his arms, “Working on it Bobby. But we might wanna move places. If you all stay here too long…”

“I know. I’d rather not be the one to break the news to her though. Sam’s baby momma.”

Dean snickered, “Maybe we should just sneak out and leave them here.”

Bobby shook his head, “Now you’re the idjit.”

Jonah finally knocked a beer bottle over and turned to look at Bobby with excitement, “Hey Gramps! Did you see that!?”

Bobby ignored the gramps, “Good job. Now to aim for the other three.” He walked over and knelt down, showing Jonah some tips and tricks.

Sam smiled and walked outside, “So we’re actually letting him use the BB gun?”

Dean smiled to his brother as he ended up at his side.

“Well of course. Nerf guns aren’t exactly gonna knock them over that well,” retorted Bobby.

Jonah’s eyes widened, “Don’t tell mom! She said maybe!”

Sam shook his head, “Only think I’m going to tell her is about us moving houses.”

Jonah frowned, “Is it because of those monsters that know about us?”

Sam nodded, “Yeah… It’s just for your safety. Promise.”

Jonah nodded and turned back to his lesson.

Dean glanced to his brother, wondering if he had everything figured out yet.

While the boys were outside with Jonah, you took the chance to start up on making food. You had cleared the table of the lore and piled it with paper plates. With quick work you made a simple dinner with what was there. You were mindful to make something for Sam and Jonah as well. Thankfully for you, Jonah had been like Sam and enjoyed healthy foods. It was a good thing he didn’t get your picky appetite.

You called them all in to wash up and eat. Sadly, it took less time eating than what it took you to make the food. But everyone had their share and finally decided to relax. All four of you adults had taken to the beer.

It was nice to be able to drink something to relax and totally numb yourself from all the learning you had done. It was like you were packed full of information and had you read anymore you would self destruct. Jonah on the other hand had taken a bath and went to bed.

This however disappointed Sam a bit. He had wanted to spend some time with him, teach him a few things. Sam wasn’t going to admit it, but he was jealous Bobby was the one who taught him gun safety and how to shoot. It should’ve been him.

Sam sighed into his bottle before taking another drink and swallowing. “In the morning we’re heading out to find a new place. We need to keep moving so they don’t find us…”

You nodded, “I understand. We have to do what we need to.”

Forever tags:  @sleepywinchester, @hay-yo-its-jo, @timeforsmut, @goldenangelbloodcastiel, @because-imma-lady-assface, @growningupgeek, @abbessolute, @keelzy2, @wideawakeandwriting, @super-not-naturall, @babypieandwhiskey, @wi-deangirl77, @ilsawasanacrobat, @impala-dreamer, @becs-bunker, @something-random25, @inlovewithbja, @squirrel–moose–giraffe, @mistressofallthingsgeeky, @petrovadixon

Series tags:  @the-bottom-of-the-abyss, @fonduegames

[mrswhozeewhatsis]

Downtown Letdown

A/N: This is my second fic for the 2017 Louden Swain SPN Mini Bang, and is for one of my favorite songs. I first heard this song when they played it at ChiCon 2015, and I fell in love with it right away. I struggled to get this fic to line up with the central themes of the song, but I hope you all agree it’s at least close. Special thanks to the best betas in the world, @littlegreenplasticsoldier and @manawhaat without whom my fics would not be nearly as legible. These two women inspire me with every word they write and push me to be better.

Summary: Dean dealing with his feelings while he’s with Lisa.

Pairing: I guess Dean and Lisa, but it’s not the focus.

Warnings: Angst, I guess. I don’t expect anyone to need tissues.

Word count: 1815 words

Dean wakes up to a bright streak of sunlight peeking through Lisa’s bedroom curtains. Usually, he fixes the curtains before he goes to bed for exactly this reason, but last night he was a little too out of it to care. Yesterday was November 2nd. It’s been more than 25 years since his mother died, but the day still creeps up on him. It was almost noon before he realized what day it was. He doesn’t remember much of the day after that. To be fair, he’s had other things on his mind the past few months.

Sam.

Dean’s head pounds with the hangover he knows he deserves, his heartbeat loud in his ears, his gut still twisted with grief. Lisa tried to make him feel better last night and he just snapped at her. The pie was store-bought, not that it mattered. It had mattered, but there was no good reason for it.

The sunbeam has shifted, now, and is blinding the ever-loving hell out of him. He turns over to get away from it, hoping Lisa is still asleep. He’s not ready to face the disappointment and misery in her eyes. It would be merely a reflection of what he’s feeling, but it shows he should be doing a better job of hiding it from her. She doesn’t deserve it.

Right now, Lisa’s face looks peaceful and happy in the golden light. Much different to when the tears well up in her eyes as Dean rages when he’s drunk with grief. Or when he wakes her with one of his nightmares. Or when he doesn’t understand why she twists herself in knots to make sure Ben has a “good” breakfast in the morning instead of Lucky Charms or Pop Tarts. He and Sam grew up on them, so they can’t be all bad, right?

She doesn’t often let him see her cry, but he knows she does. It’s been almost six months since he started making those damn tears fill her eyes. Six months of him alternating between researching ways to get Sam back and drunkenly grieving the loss. There have been days when he’s been able to try to be some kind of father figure for Ben and partner for Lisa, but those days are few and far between. He needs to do better. Sam would want him to do better.

Without moving his head more than the pounding inside of it will allow, Dean climbs out of bed and starts his morning. He looks at himself in the mirror, taking in the dark circles around his eyes, the scraggly beard, and the pale skin, and decides that it’s time. It’s time to give up fighting what Sam had wanted for him. Sam had wanted him here, with a good woman and a boy who needed him. Sam had told him not to do everything he’d spent the last six months doing. Sam had wanted him to have this life. Maybe it was time to live it.

The decision made, he makes breakfast for Lisa and Ben, packs a lunch for Ben that doesn’t include beef jerky or Twinkies, and cleans himself up until he practically shines. He heads to the construction site where his neighbor, Sid, works and gets himself a job. Sid has been annoying as hell since Dean moved in, following Dean around like a puppy when he goes to the neighborhood shindigs, but Sid’s a good guy. He’s ignored Dean’s rudeness and been nothing but kind, offering all kinds of help, including a reference for this job. It’s an actual nine-to-five job doing whatever the boss tells him to do, earning whatever the company decides to pay him, and Sid shows him the ropes with a smile.

When he’s done with work, he heads back to Lisa’s house, reminding himself that it’s now his house, too, and does his best Ward Cleaver impression. He showers off the grime from the work site, helps Lisa set the table for dinner, asks Ben what he learned in school that day, and does the dishes so Lisa can watch some reality show on TV. When he crawls back into bed, his feet hurt from new boots, the throbbing ache matched by his heart when he wonders if Sam would be proud of him.

***

Dean’s been working with Sid at the construction site for over six months, now, and he’s finally gotten into the groove of this whole civilian life thing. He makes breakfast for his family every morning, goes to work, makes good money, comes home, helps Ben with his homework, and has mind-blowing sex with Lisa before going to sleep in time to wake up and do it all again the next day. Sometimes, his routine changes, like when Sid invites him out for a drink or there’s a neighborhood barbecue. He and Ben had a great time when he taught Ben how to change the oil in the truck, and one of Lisa’s famous date nights taught him he’s pretty stellar at mini golf. There’s not a lot in his life to really make his pulse race, but it’s nice. He’s learned how to blend in to his suburban surroundings and life isn’t bad, for the most part.

He still has days where he feels like he can’t get out of bed and he fights to keep up the act. Days like Sam’s birthday. Last Tuesday wasn’t a picnic, either, when one of the guys on site joked he thought his house was haunted. Dean had to fight to keep from asking about cold spots or scratching in the walls. Sometimes, it’s just a nightmare that reminds him that he’s just playing a part here. He dreams that Sam is back, but Lucifer is in control, slicing into Lisa and Ben in front of him while telling him how Sam is screaming for his big brother inside his own meat suit. Dean wakes with a cry in his throat, his heartbeat so loud he thinks it will wake the neighbors. His face is wet with tears and Lisa is trying not to cry with him as she attempts to reassure him that everything’s okay. It’s not okay. Sam’s still in Hell, locked in a cage with the devil, suffering relentlessly. Dean wonders if Lucifer uses the same tools Alastair did, or if actual tools would be too pedestrian for the devil.

For some reason, Sundays are the hardest. There’s more day in a Sunday than any other day of the week and it’s difficult to keep up the charade. Sometimes, he goes for runs like Sam used to, just to feel the blood pumping through his veins. Without the distraction of neighborhood parties, Ben’s baseball games, and Lisa’s get-togethers where one woman sells shit nobody needs to all the other women, Dean finds himself searching for cases before he realizes what he’s doing. He tries to tell himself he’s just making sure there’s nothing in the immediate area, ensuring his family is safe, but it’s an excuse. If he’s not ridiculously busy being happy with his life, then he’s jonesing for a hunt, daydreaming of taking out an entire werewolf pack, his brother strong and sure by his side.

Tonight, though, is a not-bad night. He’s having a relaxing drink with Sid, trying not to talk about himself, trying to not be too good at darts, trying to live up to the image Sid has of him in his head. It’s exhausting. A news report plays on the TV behind Sid’s head, talking about the grisly discovery of a dozen bodies in a warehouse two towns over. Dean hears just enough to know the bodies were drained before Sid turns around to see what’s got Dean’s attention and distracts him from it because who wants to talk about that when tomorrow is Friday and the end of the work week? Dean heaves a breath and shakes his head to clear it. He’s just a guy, now. Not a hunter. Shut it down. Back to Sid.

The waitress all but thrusts her chest into his face as she brings the next round of drinks. Sid chuckles and calls Dean a dog. Dean shakes his head and smiles, brushing off the ghost of a chain he suddenly feels around his neck. The waitress caresses his arm before they leave, her phone number written on the back of the check, and Sid shakes his head in admiration and laughs as they part ways. Dean’s still tugging at the neck of his shirt when he hears the scream coming from the building site across the street. He doesn’t notice how his breathing eases in spite of the spike of adrenaline in his system as he grabs his gun and flashlight out of the car.

***

It’s been a few weeks since Sam came back and the djinns killed Sid and his family. Dean moved his family to a new house, new town, new state, and tried to find a balance between never letting Lisa and Ben out of his sight and imagining their deaths every time his back is turned. He never found a new job, but when Sam called and demanded his help on a hunt, he had no time to keep looking.

The hunt is over, now, and so is the argument that led to Lisa telling Dean that he needs to go and be a hunter. She said he isn’t a construction worker, and though he tried the best he could to be normal, to have a life that didn’t revolve around bloodshed, she’s right. Dean’s a hunter and always will be.  Besides, his gut is telling him there’s something going on with his brother, something he just can’t put his finger on. Staying here and putting up drywall isn’t going to help him figure it out.

Dean’s standing in his new garage, holding the car cover he just took off his Baby. God, she’s beautiful. Just looking at her makes his heart beat faster in his chest. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, enjoying the feel of being able to breathe freely for the first time in a long time. He climbs into the driver’s seat with a smile and reverses out of the garage, taking off into the night.

The moon is large and full over the road ahead of him as he turns up the volume on the radio and begins singing along while he taps out the beat on the steering wheel. This is where he belongs. This is who he is. He will find a way to fulfill the promises he made to Lisa and Ben, but he’s done trying to be someone he can’t be. He’s the guy that’s gonna figure out what’s going on with his brother and kill some evil sons of bitches along the way.

Ye olde forever tags list: @abaddonwithyall @busybee612 @ilostmyshoe-79 @charmingnoodle @oriona75  @spnashley @manawhaat @sammit-janet @littlegreenplasticsoldier @mrsjohnsmith @mamapeterson @charliesbackbitches @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @castielsbecky @scorpiongirl1 @deanlover7712 @iwantthedean @growningupgeek @feelmyroarrrr @chelseamarie73 @classy-sassyandsmartassy @spectaculacular-sammy @sarahbearccxc @gadreelsforbiddenfruit @sleep-silent-angel @helixiaray @badwolfstoletheimpala @nichelle-my-belle @my-mind-is-incognito @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @ashiewesker @deansleather @your-kidding-me-smalls @winchesterprincessbride @suckonthesedragonballs @chelsea072498 @helvonasche @rizlowwritessortof @supernatural-jackles @wheresthekillswitch @lucifer-in-leather @sandycub @d-s-winchester @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash @sandlee44 @superwholoki @charred-angelwings @percywinchester27 @jared-padaloveme @melissaj616 @sylverminx @sassyspn67

SPN tag sheet users: @vintagevalentinexx @thinkwritexpress-official @bowtiesandapplepie @itsemmyb @ezauraemmaline @charliesbackbitches  @deandoesthingstome @deerlululucy @walkingencyclopediaoffandom @mrsjohnsmith @growleytria @thegleegeneration @samtomydeanwinchester @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki @i-never-said-a-pilot @thewinchestielboys @supermoonpanda  @sis-tafics @amaranthinecastiel @fandommaniacx @meganwinchester1999 @kittenofdoomage @samanddeanwinchester67 @prettyxwickedxthings @ferferelli @lilyoflothlorien @olitzisbae @iridianuniverse @the-morning-star-falls  @shortandlongstories @ackleslaugh @eyes-of-a-disney-princess @chrisatplay @faith-in-dean @kreborn17 @for-the-love-of-dean @winchesterfiesta @zanthiasplace @gadreelsforbiddenfruit @trenchcoats-and-bees @curliesallovertheplace @jencharlan @skybinx-blog @beachy2014 @impossible-box @tia58 @sams-little-toy @faegal04 @sunriserose1023 @jelly-beans-and-gstrings @saving-things-hunting-family @jotink78 @notnaturalanahi @howmanytuesdaysdidyouhave @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell @pinknerdpanda @alangel1895