#dean thought he would be with cas in the empty believers make some noise!!!!

[beatsheetromanroy]

i can't help it but i keep abandoning you//but in truth i get lost on the way back to you

[wormstacheangel]

When Dean finally rescued Cas from the empty, he expected a happy reunion. He envisioned a strong hug like the first time he had escaped. He expected a long-awaited kiss and repeated confessions that weren’t said with sorrow or heartache. He expected to find the same Cas that was taken, but that would have been too easy.

Cas was left awake, alone, and in complete darkness for months on end.

So when Dean went into the empty, ready to wake up the love of his life, he found Cas curled in on himself—staring blankly out into the void of nothingness. He whispered something so softly and quickly that Dean couldn’t pick up on the actual words, but it sounded familiar. Almost like he was humming a song.

Dean tried to get him to stand up on his own, but he quickly realized that Cas wasn’t even looking at him. His gaze was distant, seeing something Dean can’t even imagine. He then noticed the white film over his eyes dimmed the once bright blue.

His fingertips gently traced over the skin he had only dreamt of touching for months before he took a deep, shaky breath to steady himself. With that slight pause, Dean used whatever desperate strength he had and dragged Cas back to the portal.

Back home.

As they got closer, the light of the portal seemed to startle Cas, and he started to shove Dean away. Dean had to put Cas down so he could take his green jacket off and place it over Cas’s head to calm him before he slowly continued to walk through the portal and into the bunker’s library where Jack, Rowena, Eileen, and Sam were waiting for them.

When they walked through, Dean quickly shushed them as he fell to his knees with Cas still in his arms, hidden under the jacket, and covering his ears at the sudden loud voices surrounding them.

Dean looked around at his family, all sharing the same worried glances knowing they were on the same page. Cas’s welcome home party would be pushed back until further notice.

Cas didn’t cry. His expression didn’t change much at all. All Cas did was sit or lay on Dean’s bed with the lights off. All but the desk light. It was an old lightbulb, so the light wasn’t a bright white like the rest of the place. Instead, it illuminated a soft golden glow against the wall.

Cas squinted at it at first, blinking so inhumanly at it, until all Cas did was stare at it. Whenever Dean made any move to turn it off or even just get near the lamp, Cas made a little whine at the back of his throat.

Little noises were the most Dean can get out of Cas. At least it brought him a little relief. It meant Cas could see him at that moment.

Cas still did that rapid talking or singing whenever it was a little bit too quiet. It made Dean wonder if Cas knew he was out of the Empty. Especially during those times when he would stare right past him, unblinking with cold eyes.

It was only the end of the second week when Dean broke down.

[continue under the cut or on AO3]

He didn’t mean to. He was trying so damn hard to keep it together, especially in front of Cas, but one night he just lost it. He can blame the lack of booze in his system, or as he wants, he can blame Sam, who came up to him about a stupid case. It pissed him off more than it should have. The fact that Sam even believed for a second that he would leave the bunker while Cas was like-well the way he was, just gave him enough of an excuse to raise his voice at someone.

Eileen had to step in and tell him to cool off.

Dean stormed off without a glance back and went to his room. He changed into his pajamas and climbed into bed beside Cas. He laid on his stomach as he wrapped one arm over the top of Cas’s waist, scooting close enough so that he could rest his head on Cas’s shoulder. He then opened his mouth to wish him goodnight just like every night, but something in Dean just broke.

He felt the pressure rise up his throat as he tried to hide his face into the familiar body beside him, but the sob still came.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry it took me so long to go get you. Fuck, Cas, please.” Dean took a shaky breath, sniffling as he reached to hold Cas’s hand closer to him. “We missed- I...I missed you. I missed you so much, Cas.” Dean brought Cas’s hand up to his lips and kissed the knuckles before letting the hand rest by his head. His eyes closed as he sighs, “I love you. So come back to me, okay?"

The only response Dean got was a squeeze of the hand, which was enough hope for the future, and more than Dean could have ever asked for at that moment.

As the days went on, Cas didn’t change. Literally and figuratively. He was still an angel, so there was no need for him to shower or brush his teeth, but Dean swore that Cas’s facial hair was growing, so he liked shaving him at least once a week. Cas seemed to like it by the humming noise he made.

They did learn a couple of things as the days went on.

One, peace and quiet are not what they strive for.

It only brought Cas anxiety, and his humming or singing became much louder and more desperate. They fixed that problem with a Bluetooth speaker constantly playing music in the background, a playlist Jack made mixed in with a playlist Jack helped Dean make. It made the humming stop, and Cas started to roll over in bed. He even sat back against the headboard with his eyes closed a few times.

A month after Cas got back, Dean's phone died in the middle of the night, and the silence must have gotten to him. He covered his ears while he started muttering to himself again. Dean woke up and pulled Cas to his chest while softly sing to him in his still half-asleep phase. He didn’t know why that was his first instinct, but he went along with it cause it started to calm Cas down. Then, Cas held him back for the first time—tucking his head right under Dean's jaw and relaxing.

Dean tried not to stiffen at the touch; if he were honest with himself, he would admit he was trying not to cry because he was busy singing. Busy, not wanting to disrupt this moment.

That night Dean sang all night long until Jack checked on them in the early hours and connected his phone.

Two, always have a light source on.

The lamp was the first one they had. Cas constantly wanted it on, but it bothered Dean all the time when he wanted to sleep. So they bought a cool starlight projector, Sam’s idea, that kept the light on the cement ceiling and not on Dean’s face. Cas seemed to enjoy it as he laid on his back, watching it all night, letting Dean curl up on his side as he slept through the night.

Three, never leave Cas alone.

Nobody wanted to leave Cas alone for more than a minute if they could help it. So they made plans to keep him company at all hours of the day. Of course, they weren’t crowding him. They all came in one by one, except for Dean, who would say, “This is my room. I get to come and go as I damn well please.”

Sam liked to sit by Cas's side and talk nerd like they usually would while cleaning his guns or doing research to help another hunter. He would even pause during the one-way conversation to give Cas some time to answer or try to imagine what Cas would say in that situation. Sam was always calm, wanting to keep it as normal as possible while Cas just stared at him, sometimes his eyebrows knitted together, and Dean had to excuse himself as he felt his chest tighten up.

Eileen sat by his side and watched shows she liked while she talked to Cas out loud and signed so he could hear her voice. Even then, she didn’t talk much. Instead, she let the laptop do the talking as she pets Cas’s hair while sitting on the chair by the bed.

Jack came in the most next to Dean. He liked reading to him or talking about how his skills as the new God have improved thanks to Amara.

"Dad, I hope you'll be proud of me." Jack once whispered to Cas, who was having a bad day, checking out more than usual as he stared off into the distance. Eyes wide and almost screaming.

It was almost the end of the second month when another big mile-stone happened.

Jack was lying in bed with Cas while Dean was at his desk, cleaning his guns obsessively again. Jack was reading him a book he bought during his recent trip to the bookstore with Eileen, it was a Star Wars story.

Jack was getting into the book as he read slower but louder during a big fight scene. He got so excited that he even jumped up and looked back at Cas, "Did you hear that, Dad? He won!"

Cas smiled back at him- a genuine smile- and Dean almost dropped the piece of metal in his hand while Jack froze, his shoulders tightening up while he scrunched up his lips as if trying to hold back his cry.

Instead, he quietly composed himself as he asked in a shaky voice, "You want me to read the rest?"

Cas only blinked at him, keeping the slight smile, and Jack took it as a yes. Jack sat beside him again with a big smile plastered on his face, wiping his eyes every other word, as he rested his head on Cas's shoulder to continue reading. Dean didn’t miss when Cas tilted his head down to rest his cheek on Jack’s hair.

He had to excuse himself again.

After that day, Cas slowly started to open up a little more.

Once Dean woke up with Cas out of bed. Dean was already in full panic mode, his shoes on the wrong feet and jacket inside out as he called out for Sam.

Then just as quick as the panic came, relief flooded him when he found Cas in the kitchen trying to make coffee. He turned towards Dean and gave him the smallest of smiles, but it filled Dean with such solace that he just dragged himself to Cas’s space. Dean held his arms open to press Cas into him, and without a second thought, Cas fell right into him as if it was an everyday normal occurrence.

That was the start of Cas now being up and around the bunker. It was like when a baby starts crawling, everyone keeping tabs on the baby’s first steps, except this baby was an eon old celestial being.

The library, Dean’s room, the Dean-cave, and the kitchen were Cas’s favorite places just to sit. He always had Dean’s headphones on, softly playing music, just in case it went quiet, and it took a while for him to be able to walk around without those.

It was the sixth month when Cas wished Dean a goodnight first and then added, “I love you, Dean.”

Dean fought the lump in his throat, but Cas instantly pulled him in, his arms wrapped securely around him. He had so much he wanted to say to Cas just to hear his voice again, anything to listen to his voice again, but instead, he kisses Cas’s chest before saying, “I love you, too.”

Days came and went. Sometimes it seemed like Cas was getting better as he talked a little more, but then those days would come when he would just stare off into the stars on their ceiling. Not moving an inch or bothering to fake breath like he liked. Those days the music was a little louder, and Cas held on to Dean a little tighter.

“I don’t want to go back. Please,” Cas pleaded as he stared wide-eyed at the darkness in the corner of their room. As if he was having a nightmare with his eyes wide open. “Please don’t make me…I-I don’t want to be in the dark again!”

Dean took Cas’s face in between his hands to hold his gaze. Only talking when he knew Cas was seeing him. “It’s okay, Cas. I got you. Nobody’s taking you away from me ever again.”

“Promise?” Dean felt Cas’s grip at his shoulder, holding him with desperation.

“Promise.”

That’s how Cas became human.

The nightmares have him waking up screaming some days, but at least Cas knew he was safe from the Empty’s clutches.

He was going to live his human life being loved and taken care of, and Dean was happy to say he felt Cas was doing the same for him.

[pinknatural]

The Emma resurrection at 8 years old is truly consuming my brain you opened a new can of worms and dumped them into my head I cannot stop thinking about it.

Like does she remember purgatory? Does she appear half-feral eyes flashing and a growl in her throat ready to lash out? Does Jack hurtle over in the unsteady sprint of toddlers and throw himself at her and call her sister and she’s so shocked that it isn’t an attack that she doesn’t react.

Does Dean’s breath catch as he recognizes her, from her eyes or her brand or her scared expression. Does he whisper her name. Does Sam flee the room partly to not scare her but mostly out of overwhelming guilt?

How do they talk her down do they have to put food down and move away while she eats it distrustfully and Jack just babbles away about Dean’s cooking and his favorite foods and how he wants to show her his room

Does she try to stay awake for days bc she doesn’t trust them and then pass out from exhaustion and wake up with her face washed in a soft bed and realize maybe it’s okay

Does Cas reach out to her because he has the least history and an understanding of being not a human and of forgiveness

Jack was angry, is the thing. Angry in the way little kids are angry, but he has powers and it's never a good idea to set him off. And what is the solution? He's upset that he doesn't have a playmate his age, upset that he can't tell the kids at daycare about who he is, can't show them his powers. When reminded about Claire, he stomped his foot and screamed, lightbulbs shattering, and oh, Dean remembered when Sammy would get like this, when the only person who could calm him down was Dean himself, eight years old and Sam's favorite person.

Dean and Cas exchange helpless glances, and Jack's not an only child but with the age gap between him and Claire he basically is, and Dean aches, suddenly. Maybe he and Cas need to have a talk about another kid.

"I'll just MAKE a sibling!" Jack cries, and Dean glances at Cas worriedly before he reaches for Jack.

"Come on, kiddo," he says, because you can't just make a sibling, he doesn't think, but Jack stomps his foot again and gold light bursts out from the kid and Dean has to cover his eyes.

When he can open them again, there's a girl in the room. She has blonde hair and round green eyes, dressed in an oversized jacket and bright pink shirt, jeans that are falling down her legs. Her clothes are covered in blood and dirt and her hair is tangled with leaves and mud and who knows what else, and she looks around with wide eyes, mouth slightly open in shock.

"Oops," Jack says, staring at her.

"Jack," Cas says, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Did you kidnap a child?"

But the thing is that...well....Dean recognizes the white jacket and the bright pink shirt, dark stain of blood right in the middle of her chest, if the shirt actually fit her. Dean recognizes the curve of her face and the twist of her eyebrows, and the shade of her eyes, which are rapidly welling up with tears.

She's staring right at Dean and sobbing, heart-wrenching noises pulled from the deepest parts of her, and Dean holds out his hands, showing that they're empty.

"I won't hurt you," he says. "None of us will hurt you."

Jack creeps across the room and clings to Cas' leg, looks up at Dean with wide eyes.

"I didn't mean to," he says. "It was an accident."

"It's okay, buddy," Dean says. He steps closer to the girl, who takes a stumbling step back, nearly tripping on her pants.

"Dean," Cas says. "Do you know her?"

She's choking on her sobs, not looking away from Dean, and his heart twists as he backs up, reaches a hand for Cas. Cas takes it, squeezes.

"Emma?" Dean whispers. Cas's breath catches. "Are you...Emma?"

She nods, wipes snot away with her oversized, dirty sleeve.

"Okay, sweetheart," Dean says, exhaling shakily. "This is Cas, okay? And Jack. We aren't gonna hurt you. Can Cas touch you?"

She shakes her head rapidly.

"He can heal you," Dean cajoles, and she shakes her head again. Her sobs have slowed, but tears are still streaming down her face. "Okay. Do you want to follow me or Cas to the bathroom, get you cleaned up? We won't hurt you." He hopes if he repeats it enough, she'll believe it. She looks at him, then at Cas, then at Jack. Jack lets go of Cas and walks toward her. Emma stares but lets him approach. He holds out a little hand and touches her cheek. Gold light glows, and she doesn't break eye contact as he heals her.

"It's okay," Jack says. She nods and starts crying again.

"Daddy," she whispers, and Dean runs to her side, drops to his knees, wants to touch her but doesn't. "I don't wanna be in the monster forest anymore."

"You aren't," Dean says. "You're safe, here, with us. Cas is my husband and Jack is my son--your brother--and you can have the guest room, and you'll never have to see another monster again."

Emma pushes back the sleeve on her wrist, but the brand isn't there anymore. Jack must've healed it.

"What about..." Emma whispers. She swallows. "What about your brother?"

Cas walks up behind Dean, puts a hand on his shoulder. Dean's gonna have to call Eileen, ask her to bring some clothes for a kid. It's not like Emma can go to a store--not yet, anyway. She already looks overwhelmed, and there's only three people here.

"You don't have to see him," Cas says. "Not until you're ready." Dean swallows, looks at his daughter. She's covered with the blood of Purgatory. She must be eight, he thinks. Too young for what she’s seen.

"He won't hurt you again," Dean promises. "And you can see him when you're ready. I'll keep you safe. I couldn't do it the first time, but I swear, Emma, not a day has gone by that I haven't thought of you, that I haven't wished I could do it over."

Emma fiddles with her necklace. Dean remembers seeing Lydia put it on her from across the parking lot as he staked out the house. Dean strips off his flannel, and hands it to her. She wipes her face off with it, and then looks at him.

"Okay," she says. "You can touch me."

Dean wraps his arms around her, scoops her up, holds her close, and promises he's never letting her go again.

[sinnabonka]

If you wish hard enough

Dean’s never been one to expect gifts from anyone, let alone God himself, but today he's gotten the best gift he could ever wish for, on AO3

Dean wakes up to a gentle caress on his cheek. It feels nothing like Miracle's wet slimy wake up call that's become a part of his daily morning routine, and he jolts, hands scavenging the sheets for his gun.

The emptiness under the pillow makes Dean’s guts flip, but his mind keeps searching for options. He remembers there’s a pen knife hidden in his boot under the bed, a demon blade in the jacket hanging on the doorknob, plus, there is always a lamp on the nightstand he could effectively fling.

Instead, running the numbers, he decides first to shed some light onto the scene, and paws his way to the switch and flips it.

He winces when the white dim light floods the room.

As his eyes refocus, he blinks, mouth falling open. Swallowing, his throat clenches around the fragment of a sound ready to escape. His fists ball on the comforter on both sides of his thighs as his stomach careens into the endless and weightless feeling of falling.

The light is weak, the outlines it draws are smudged and blurry.

“Hello, Dean.”

The room floor tilts like a ship deck in a storm, and Dean finds himself grasping on solid surfaces of the furniture in a rushed attempt to get out of the bed. His lungs ache at the lack of air to fill them up.

Dean makes one unsure step, then another. His knees buckle, but with the last ounce of strength he forces himself to stay upright.

He reaches out to what has to be a ghost, because what else can it be, and as he does, his fingers are trembling. A hopeful thought struggles, drowning in the white noise inside his skull.

And then there’s a touch.

“Cas.”

Dean chokes on the word, the one he kept whispering in the middle of the night for the last few months trying to speak it into existence. The name he was too broken and hurt to say out loud knowing the sound of it would defeat him if he did. The name he was sure he was never meant to say again looking into those familiar blue eyes, now staring back at him, expecting.

“Cas,” he repeats, finally finding the solid ground. His voice is low and trembling, but unlike all the times he’s been sobbing it half asleep, his voice is not hollow anymore. It may be a bit too emotional than Dean cares to admit.

“Hello,” the ghost repeats with an unsure smile.

“Hey,” Dean says back.

It’s just a moment before an unknown force pushes him forward. His hands fly, touching, grasping, pulling in. Dean abruptly exhales as the air gets punched out of him in a single moment when their chests collapse against each other.

“Cas,” he whispers, burying his face into the crack of Cas’ neck.

The wrinkled fabric of the trench coat under his palm feels real, so does the warm, soft skin under the pressure of his cheek and the hand slipping up to rest across his back in comforting circles.

Please be real. He squeezes his eyes shut and allows a single loud sob escape his lungs.

“I’m here,” says Cas, but Dean is not sure if he hears it or feels the vibration of the voice, pressing too hard to the source of it. “I’m right here, Dean. It’s alright now.”

“I didn’t think I’d see you again. I thought the Empty…”

“Some things are beyond their control,” Cas says with a smile, before pulling away.

“But why?” Dean shakes his head at the way the question sounds and asks instead: "How?”

“Jack says hi,” Cas smiles knowingly.

It’s a short moment of silence between them, a moment of long-awaited comfort and relief, and Dean’s afraid to spoil it with words. He leans in closer and lets both his hands rest on Cas’ shoulders. He catches himself thinking that if he lets go, looks away or blinks too slowly, Cas is going to disappear, dissolve into nothingness, leaving him alone in the dim light of the bedroom.

He slowly shakes his head, staring into Cas’ eyes, as if gathering the fuel for his own bravery. He clears his throat before speaking up.

“I need to say something,” he starts, each word weighed and measured. “Last time you bailed on me and didn’t give me a chance to, so now I’m gonna jump straight to the...”

“Dean, I…”

“Goddammit, Cas, let me finish. I’m not the talking kind, you know that. This one is long due.” He clears his throat again, though it’s nothing physical he can simply cough out. Dean tries again: “I need to say it, okay? I never thought I’d get a chance, I’m still not sure I’m not daydreaming over a book or something.”

Cas looks as if he was about to interrupt him again, but never does.

“I promised myself that if I ever see you again, it would be the first thing I say, okay? No maybe laters, no tomorrows, just here, now, a’right? Last time it took Thee Death literally knocking at the door for one of us to speak up.” Dean smiles nervously. “That’s not happening again.”

Cas’ eyebrows raise, but he stays respectfully silent.

“I’m not losing you again, you hear me? So you gotta cut this self-devotion-take-me-instead crap. From now on, none of that. Clear?”

Cas nods, not sure if he still is not allowed to speak.

“Good,” Dean says with a dead serious expression etched across his face.

His heart is loud inside his chest, the even thuds echoing through his temples. He can’t think of what he’s doing even for a split second or he’ll find a thousand and one excuses not to. And he can’t afford it, not this time. His hand lands on the back of Cas’ neck and he inches closer, suddenly short of breath.

“Dean...”

“Shut up,” he huffs, freezing for a moment with his eyes glued to Cas’ mouth. He licks his own lips, he curses silently, and comes the rest of the way in one movement.

When their lips meet, Dean shakily exhales and sinks into the kiss.

“I love you,” he whispers against Cas’ mouth, as if just hearing it was not enough, as if Cas had to taste the sincerity of those words to believe them.

“I love you,” he repeats into the kiss, and he misses the moment when Cas’ hands wrap around him and press them together firmly.

“I love you, dumbass,” he smirks, “and I am not losing you again. You hear me?”

“Of course,” Cas answers.

It takes them another few minutes before they break away. Breathless, blushed, they look at each other with unmistakable fondness.

“What time is it?” Cas asks suddenly.

Dean looks over his shoulder on the clock, but for a moment can’t make out the numbers jumping under his blurry vision.

“Ten past midnight,” he says finally, and follows with, “Why? Gotta be home before you turn into a pumpkin?”

“Happy birthday, Dean,” Cas says, instead of reflecting on the joke, and plants another quick kiss on Dean’s lips. “Jack asked to wish you a happy birthday, too, and to remind you that if you wish hard enough for something, it’s sure to come true. I guess it was him…”

“Yeah,” Dean interrupts, his face warming up, “Yeah, I know what that's about.”

He rests his forehead against Cas’, eyes squeezed shut, and thinks of how it took him forty two years to finally take his first full breath.

He's never been one to expect gifts from anyone, let alone God himself, but today he's gotten the best gift he could ever wish for.

“I love you too,” Cas whispers, and Dean’s heart sings to it.

He smiles at the thought of how later today, when he will be blowing out candles on his birthday cake, he will have nothing left to wish for.

[goldenraeofsun]

Day 14: Stardust

“Go!” Sam waves Dean off with one hand as he brandishes an angel blade in the other, not that it’ll do much good against a primordial entity.

Conflicted, Dean glances at Rowena, whose hands are raised to blast the Empty with purple fire. “We can hold it off, dearie,” she calls. “Do the spell!” She lets out a hair-raising shriek in some ancient language, and the heat makes Dean flinch back even from across the cavernous room. “The blood first,” Rowena instructs in a carrying voice. She circles the Empty with Sam, keeping it occupied. “Jack’s, then mine. Forbaern!”

Sam hurls a demon bomb the Empty, and the vibrations to the floor of Hell itself almost make Dean drop the second vial of blood.

Christ, Dean has no idea what he’s doing. He should be with Sam and Rowena, on the frontlines, not cowering behind a table with a spellbook that looks like it was made from people. Still, he starts chanting.

What is this spell, anyway? Ancient Klingon? Elvish Pig Latin? He could fuck up the pronunciation, and this’ll all be for nothing.

He finishes incanting, speeding a little towards the end to get it over with.

To his infinite relief and dread, the bowl with the blood starts to glow. As it reaches blinding levels, Rowena calls, “Pour it over yourself!”

“What?”

“Upturn the blood over your head!” Rowena casts a spell, and the Empty recoils with a scream.

Dean glares down at the glowing contents. So. Gross.

But for Cas -

Screwing his eyes shut, Dean lifts and tips the blood the over the crown of his head.

The noise of Sam and Rowena’s fight cuts off.

Complete silence. Jarring enough to make his ears ring with the phantom loss.

Dean opens his eyes. He almost thinks his body isn’t working properly, that his eyes didn’t open at all, but the Empty is just pitch-black. He pats his hair, and thank god the blood stayed in Hell while Dean was zapped out of there. He checks his jacket, feeling for the handle of his angel blade.

How to find Cas in a big pile of��nothing?

Dean shuffles forward, doubt dragging every step. He could be going in the complete wrong direction, and if he gets off the yellow brick road, how will he ever get to Cas in time before the Empty comes back?

Fuck.

He turns back around, but the doubt doesn’t go away.

Dean spins around in a circle, panic racing through his veins. He was so stupid, thinking that, what, Cas’s love for him would show him the way?

He got all the way here, and he’s going to be wandering around like a moron until the Empty comes back and all the prayers in the world won’t save his ass -

Son of a bitch.

He’s such a dumbass.

He clears his throat. “Cas? You got your ears on?” He half expects the words to echo, but it’s more like the Empty swallows up most of the sounds.

No response.

“I hope you can hear me,” Dean continues. “I came all the way here to, well, not grip you tight and raise you from perdition, but you get the idea. So I need you to get your feathery ass over here so we can go home.”

He taps his fingers against his leg, his whole body jittery with nerves. “Look, what you said - I had no idea you felt that way.” He swallows. “And I think that’s my bad. We’ve been friends for ten goddamn years. How could I not know? But you were always leaving, and I thought…” he drifts off. “It doesn’t matter what I thought.”

He shakes his head ruefully. “God, I have no idea if you’re even listening. But I guess that’s why they call it faith, right?” He smiles out into the darkness. “You showed me that, you know. I didn’t believe in any of it before I met you. I mean, I believed in family. I believed in the mission. But that’s not what you were talking about when you said I had no faith.”

Turning slowly on the spot, eyes straining against the darkness, he continues, “I’d never believed in something I couldn’t control with my own two hands. Before you. Because it’d never felt like I had a complete handle on you, not really. And apparently I was right, if I could miss something like that for years.”

Dean swallows past the lump in his throat. “But I have faith in you now, Cas. I have faith you’ll come back to me, and we’ll sort out all our shit back home, where you belong. You went on and on about how I taught you to care, but you taught me how to have faith. Not in God, not in some higher calling,” he chuckles humorlessly, “not in fate, but in you.”

He licks his lips. “You’ve always come back. All I’m asking for is one more time, man. One more miracle for a believer.”

“Dean?”

Dean spins around, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

Cas is blinking at him in confusion, wearing the same frumpy suit and rumpled trenchcoat when the Empty took him.

“Cas,” Dean breathes as he surges forward to wrap his arms around him. “You heard my prayer.”

He feels more than hears Cas’s tired laugh. “I once told you, I would always come when you call.”

Dean pulls back, but he keeps both hands on Cas’s upper arms just to feel him. Solid. Warm. Alive. “You okay?”

Cas smiles, a small thing, barely there. “I’ve been better.”

“I bet,” Dean says as he reaches his hand inside his coat and pulls out his angel blade.

Cas eyes it curiously. “There are no monsters to fight here.”

Dean inhales a sharp breath. He’s made it this far; he can’t chicken out. “No, I - this is for you,” he flips it hand-first to Cas.

“I don’t understand.”

“To get out of here,” Dean says, his face deadly serious, “We need a power source.”

He gets it at once. “My grace,” Cas says, his face blank.

“Look, you don’t have to,” Dean says awkwardly. “You could use my soul, I guess, but if you give up your grace, you’ll never come back here again.”

Cas’s eyes widen in alarm. “I’m not using your soul, Dean.”

“I can handle the pain.”

Cas shakes his head. “Souls are extremely volatile. Touching yours could bring this very dimension down, or wake everyone up, or something equally catastrophic.”

Dean frowns. “When you touched that kid’s soul in that hotel room, it didn’t go all Fukushima on us.”

“That was on Earth,” Cas says flatly. “The same cosmic rules don’t apply here.” His gaze drops to the blade in Dean’s hand and takes it.

“You sure?”

Cas nods. He swallows, meeting Dean’s apprehensive gaze. “Thank you.”

Dean throws him an incredulous look. “For making you give up your grace?”

“For coming to get me,” Cas says. “For coming all the way here. I won’t forget it.”

Dean smiles. “Dude, it’s what we do for family. No hell dimension is too far.”

Cas raises the blade, and it hovers an inch away from his throat. “How are we getting back, specifically?”

“Sammy looked it up. This place runs on the intentions of the most powerful being here,” Dean says, screwing up his face as he tries to remember the specifics, “That’s how the cosmic Jell-O put everyone to sleep. And why it was so mad you woke up. When you got that zap of nephilim mojo, you could challenge it for control.”

“So, theoretically,” Cas starts, his voice deceptively light, “all I have to do is tap my heels three times and think there’s no place like home?”

Dean chuckles. “Just about. Apparently your grace is more powerful outside your vessel than inside.”

Cas nods, his face resigned. He makes a shallow cut just below his adam's apple, and his grace slips out, smooth as silk. Almost too bright to look at, it spirals above them fluid lightning against the backdrop of the Empty’s darkness. His grace keeps going and going, and they both watch it, transfixed.

Without a warning, it explodes in a soundless shower of sparks. The remains of his grace rain down like stardust around them.

Cas wears an unfathomable expression on his face. Part wistful, part stoic, part something Dean has no chance of ever describing.

Dean kisses him.

Cas stands stock still before he tentatively kisses back, so tenderly, Dean almost doesn’t notice. But Cas breaks away first, his expression carefully blank. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Dean splutters, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I didn’t expect anything when I told you about my feelings for you,” Cas says, a tremor of emotion in his words. “If you kissed me out of pity or because of obligation-”

“Dammit,” Dean swears, grabbing Cas’s hand and squeezing. “I kissed you because I believe in you. I believe in us.” He meets Cas’s shocked gaze head-on. “I just didn’t know there was an us to believe in before.”

Cas smiles, brighter than Dean has ever seen. “Let’s go home.”

[waywardnerd67]

The Towel Drop

Title: The Towel Drop Summary: After seeing videos on social media, Jensen decides to take part in a unique challenge. Paring: Jensen Ackles x Reader Word Count: 1376 Rating: X - Explicit Warnings: Fluff/Smut Square Filled: Jensen Ackles Bingo Card: Tell Me A Story Bingo - @supernatural-jackles​ A/N: None

Check Out: Tell Me A Story Bingo Masterlist

Jensen was sitting in his office killing time waiting for (Y/N) to finish her classes for the day. Currently he was down the Facebook videos rabbit hole. Cute pet videos, phony texts stories, but his favorite were the reaction videos from people walking in on their partners naked. He found himself sitting there for half an hour laughing at them. Then an idea popped into his head.

He walked into their master bathroom stripping off all his clothes. It was hard to believe that almost a year ago he was looking in the mirror as Dean Winchester for the last time. Now, his hair was past his ears. His beard was fully grown in and bushy driving (Y/N) crazy. His body was even forenign to him with a steady diet of protein and veggies along with weightlifting five days a week. As Misha had commented recently he Hulked up.

Turning on the shower, he stepped beneath the scalding water. Allowing the heat to relax his muscles he began his normal routine. Once he was out, Jensen wrapped a towel around his waist slicking his hair back with his hands. He glanced down at his phone seeing her last class of the day should be ending soon. The fluttering in his stomach sent waves of excitement throughout his body.

Jensen walked out of their room and downstairs to (Y/N)’s office. She could hear her laughter coming from behind the door. He was thankful that she had faced her desk towards the door so her students would not have to see if he walked in. Dropping the towel to the floor, he opened the door slowly peeking around the corner. Her eyes were focused on the two monitors filled with the faces of high schoolers.

He stepped inside the doorway placing his hands on his hips. (Y/N) virtual teaching during the pandemic had shown him how much he loved watching her work. For hours, he would listen to her teach about Shakesphere and Beowulf. By the time she would get a break he would be in desperate need of a release carrying her off to their couch and ravishing her.

“Alright, your research papers need to be ten pages, double space, times roman and twelve point font. Make sure you use MLA formatting and citation for your sources. This paper counts as half your final…”

She looked up to see him standing there naked his cock getting harder with each word she spoke. Slowly he wrapped his fingers around himself staring right at her.

She swallowed hard, “Um… this paper counts as half of your final grade. Are there any q-questions?” Her eyes trailed up his body biting her lip.

He could not hear her students due to the headphones covering her ears. Lazily he stroked himself leaning against her door frame. She shook her head, a beautiful smile spreading across her face.

“Yes Marie, that is a perfect subject for this paper. Okay, that is all for today. I will see you guys on Friday.” She finally tore her eyes away from him waving to her monitor before they snapped back up to him, “Jensen Ackles, what in the hell are you doing?”

He shrugged, still running his hand over his hard length, “I thought I would catch your reaction.”

Her laughter filled the room, “Oh my god, you’ve been watching Facebook videos again.”

“May-be.” He watched as she stood walking towards him, her eyes focused on his hand.

“Was my reaction everything you were hoping for?” She licked her bottom lip dragging it beneath her teeth.

He gently squeezed the base of his dick moaning softly, “Depends on what happens next pretty girl.”

A shiver went down his spine as she got on her knees in front of him and parted her lips, “What are you waiting for? I’m dying to taste you.”

He rubbed the tip across her lips before pushing into her mouth. His body trembled, sighing at the sudden warmth and vibration from her moaning around him. Her hands gripped his thighs digging her nails into them as he pulled out of her and pushed back in.

“Fuuuck…” He rolled his head back against his shoulders as she took control, bobbing her head along his length.

Gathering her hair in his hands, Jensen tugged her head back gently, her mouth popping off his cock. She groaned in disappointment, a trail of spit going down her chin.

“Babe… I wasn’t done yet…”

He chuckled, “I need to come inside of you and the way you were sucking me off I was going to make it.”

Jensen picked her wrapping her legs around him and made it as far as the stairs before she wiggled out of his grasp. He watched her remove her clothes quickly flinging them in every direction before kneeling on the stairs. He sucked in a breath as she parted her legs and stuck her perfect ass in the air. Her fingers slipped between her slick folds.

“Need you here, now.” She begged, pushing two fingers inside of her.

Jensen’s head was already spinning from desire watching her needily fingering herself. Placing one hand on the small of her back positioning himself right at her entrance. She tried to push back onto him, but he pulled back loving the growl coming from her.

“Jensen Ackles either fuck me or let me take care of myself!”

Gripping her hips, he inched his cock inside of her. The noises escaping her lips making it damn near impossible for him to keep from fucking her into the stairs like she wanted him too. He wanted her to come completely undone, begging him before giving in to his primal desires.

Each thrust was slow, deliberate and wonderful feeling her tighten around him. He dug his fingers into her hips pulling out of her then sinking back into her snapping his hips against her. Her hands were balled into fists pounding against the stairs.

“Oh god, Jensen please… please fuck me hard. Oh fuck, please Jensen!”

And he did. The sounds of their skin connecting echoed up the stairway. His heart racing in his ears chasing after the release he badly was in need of. (Y/N) moans shaking him to his core as she pushed against every thrust he made.

“Baby, I’m so close… need to feel you come with me.”

He bent over her, reaching his hand around between her legs. His fingers rubbing against her clit as she tightened around his cock screaming his name. That’s all it took for him to fall over the edge pounding into her until he felt her body go limp in his grasp. He pushed in her one last time, shaking as he did.

“Fuck… oh my god… oh my god…” (Y/N) mumbled into the stairs before groaning loudly as he pulled out of her, “Uhh… so empty now.”

Jensen chuckled slumping against the railing, “Shit baby, I don’t think I can walk right now.”

“Me either… I’ll just take a nap right here.” She laid out over the stairs.

Finally, he was able to get himself standing and carried (Y/N) up to their bedroom where they took a nice, long nap. Waking up as the night sky was showing off the stars, they made their way back downstairs for some dinner. (Y/N) went to grab her phone from her office as he ordered some pizza.

“Shit!” She yelled, coming out in a panic, “I forgot I had a staff meeting today. Great.”

Guilt filled his chest, pulling her into his arms, “I’m sorry, that’s my fault for distracting you.”

He felt her sigh before she looked up at him, “Honestly, you probably saved me from an hour of boredom that could have been an email. I’d say being unable to walk for hours and the most amazing orgasm of my life was well worth it.”

He laughed, lifting her up on the counter and kissing her, “Well we have about an hour before the pizza is here. I think I might be in the mood for an appetizer.” He knelt down spreading her legs and diving in.

“Oh god… thank you for this man being in my life.”

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[mittensmorgul]

Happy 13th Deancasversary! This is 1166 words of abject fluff in celebration. Post-canon but of the Good Canon that lives in my head, which is what they deserve. :’)

Or read it on AO3

Dean had no idea what time it was. Early, probably. It was impossible to tell without rolling over and looking at the clock, and he wasn’t nearly awake enough to bother with that yet.

He took in a deep breath in the darkness of his room and puzzled over the wispy fragments of the dream he’d been having before something woke him up. Calling out for Cas in the echoless nothingness of the Empty, silent footsteps pounding into the void, and the talisman that Rowena had made for him biting into the flesh of his palm as he struggled to cling to that tiny beacon of hope. He relived some variation on that dream almost every time he slept since he’d experienced it live and in the flesh. Now that he was well and truly awake, Dean could fully appreciate the results. It had truly become his favorite daily ritual.

Cas stirred in his arms. From months of experience, Dean knew he was likely waking from a similarly intense dream. Without even thinking about it, Dean’s hand gently ran up and down Cas’s back, soothing him into wakefulness.

“Hey, Cas. I got you. I’m here,” Dean whispered.

They were the first words he’d said to Cas when he’d found him in the Empty and wrenched him free from its inky grasp. Now he made sure they were the first words Cas heard every morning. As Cas blinked up at him in the darkness only illuminated by the soft glow of the clock behind Dean’s shoulder, Dean smiled down at him and gently ran his fingers through Cas’s mussed hair.

“Morning,” Dean said quietly.

Cas closed his eyes and hummed, resting his head back on Dean’s shoulder.

“Is it really, though?”

Dean laughed. “Far as I know, yeah. It was after midnight when we went to sleep, so technically it’s been morning for a while, no matter what time it is.” Cas opened his mouth and Dean kept talking because he knew what Cas was gonna ask next. “And no, I have no idea what time it is. Someone needs to let me put a clock on his nightstand so I can see it without having to move.”

Cas grumbled out, “We don’t need two clocks.”

Dean shrugged. “Then you’re gonna have to let go of me if you wanna know what time it is.”

Cas held on tighter. “I don’t care what time it is.”

Dean’s heart fluttered the same way it did every time they had this conversation. And then he grinned, because he was about to throw a new line at Cas. Maybe he should’ve said something sooner, but he wanted this to be special. They’d kept far too many terrible secrets over the years trying to protect each other. He wanted just once to keep a secret for all the right reasons, and he’d been waiting so patiently to finally share the joy of it with Cas.

“Yeah, sure, but do you know what day it is?”

Cas was quiet for a minute, trying mightily to recon with linear time without whatever automatic calendar had been built into the angel mojo he’d left behind in the Empty.

“Some time in mid-September?” Cas suggested hesitantly. “It might be Saturday. Is that specific enough?”

Dean laughed softly again, giving Cas’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “It’s thirteen years to the day since you gripped me tight and raised me from Perdition.”

He wasn’t sure what sort of reaction that statement would inspire in Cas, and waited only a few tense moments to find out. Cas squirmed in his arms so that he could see Dean’s face. Unsatisfied with the fact that Dean was mostly backlit from the clock, Cas reached over his shoulder and switched on the lamp, and then squinted against the warm glow that filled the room. Dean laid back and smiled up at him while Cas blinked down at him.

“September 18, 2008. Thirteen years ago today. Dean...”

Dean shook his head and pulled Cas back down. “We’ve known each other thirteen years.”

“That suddenly seems like a very long time,” Cas replied. “Thirteen years ago I would’ve barely noticed the passing of centuries, and now this one ordinary day seems like an important milestone to be celebrated.”

Dean hummed with satisfaction as Cas snuggled back down against him with a contented sigh. He fumbled around behind him on the nightstand for his phone, and snapped a quick picture of the two of them looking all sleep-warm and satisfied together. They just looked at themselves for a minute until Dean’s phone screen timed out and shut off, and Dean slipped the phone onto the shelf above their heads.

“We look content,” Cas commented after a silent moment. “Happy, even.”

“Well, yeah, Cas. Probably because we are, right?

Cas smiled up at him again. “In ways that I never believed were even possible, yes.”

Dean huffed out an amused little noise. “I wonder what we would’ve thought about that picture thirteen years ago?”

“I would’ve thought it was some sort of sorcery most likely,” Cas replied. “You probably would’ve claimed it was photoshopped.”

Dean laughed again. “Yeah, probably. We had no idea the sort of shit we were in for back then.”

“I’d do it all again in a heartbeat,” Cas replied. “As long as I knew we’d still end up here. I’d choose you every time, Dean.”

Dean kissed Cas’s forehead and hummed in agreement. “I’m starting to realize just how true that is. You kinda did that a lot over the years, even when I had no idea and it just felt like you were leaving me again.”

Cas looked up at him, heartbreak clear in his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about leaving you right now. I never want to do that again.”

“You damn well better not,” Dean replied. “After all the trouble I went through to drag you home last time.”

Cas nodded, and then pulled Dean into a deep and tender kiss, one hand gently holding Dean’s cheek. “Now you’ve gripped me tight and saved me from the Empty. I think we’re finally on the same page. We’ve saved each other. You told me once that you’re supposed to keep gifts. And this is a gift I never thought we’d be allowed to have.”

“It makes a great story, though,” Dean replied. “Past us would never believe it.”

“I think past us would be very happy for present us.”

“Well, yeah, they’d agree we deserve to be happy. Even if they were a little confused about it back then.”

Cas slid his hand down Dean’s shoulder to the place his handprint had been burned into Dean’s soul in the moment they’d first technically met. “I’m beginning to think that past us couldn’t have had any idea what happiness truly meant.”

“I have it on good authority that they eventually figured it out for themselves,” Dean replied. “Happy anniversary.”

Cas squeezed his shoulder and grinned. “Happy anniversary, Dean.”

[twofrontteethstillcrooked]

1 Oct. Suptober: Harvest

"Going to have a proper harvest for once," she said. The other witch laughed in agreement. "Think of the price we'll fetch for pure angel grace."

post-15x09 au snippetfic; deancas, samwena 

"Get the fuck away from him," Cas rasped, and it was the swear as much as the simple fact of Cas being alive that caused Dean to gasp and open his eyes.

He'd screwed them shut in anticipation of a killing blow that never landed. The witch had reeled around and away from Dean toward Cas, and the dagger in her hand glinted in the one of bar of light that was piercing through the boarded up basement window.

Dungeon window, more like. Cave window. The darkness made it difficult to determine where exactly Cas was in relation to Dean. A few feet away? Way on the other side of the room, maybe still half slumped against the spiderwebbed stone wall? Dean tried, and failed, to stand. Something was oozing into his right eye; his legs wobbled like the floor was made of bouncy house.

"Cas," he said once without the sound reaching his own ears. He fell backwards, wooden slats splintering on his weight.

In the dusty beam, the tip of Cas's angel blade blazed like a falling star that blinked out as the second witch holding it stalked into the dark again. 

Dean heard her guttered low cackle, as though she were a radio station the dial had finally properly tuned. His whole body went cold. 

"Going to have a proper harvest for once," she said. The other witch laughed in agreement. "Think of the price we'll fetch for pure angel grace."

"And feathers," the other crowed, before beginning a frantic chant in a language Dean did not recognize.

"Feathers, yessss." The witch's hiss poured like venom into Dean's veins. 

His eyes had adjusted only enough to see the angel blade raised high, and, somehow, the shadow of Cas's wings spread singed and mangled on the wall.

"Or perhaps both wings."

No, Dean thought. No, no, no, no. Please, no.

"We can hack them off at the--"

She'd stopped talking because her head was whizzing past Dean's own. He might have yelped in the effort to dodge it. Overhead fluorescent light banged into the room. Rowena stood in the door, arm raised like she was hoisting an invisible car over a fence; the witch who still had a head had crumpled to the ground. Sam stood over the beheaded body, breathing heavily and wild eyed as a banshee, small sword still aloft dripping red.

The witch on the floor squeaked once, like a mouse stepped on by a particularly pointed heel, and fell silent. 

From beneath her now unmoving form, what seemed like a mere pool of ink spread and spread until it almost touched Dean's boot.

He couldn't catch his breath. The room was quiet like a roar and he could not stand up. He thought to rub at the wetness in his eye and found the substance was sticky. Pressing harder made fire race into his eye socket and up his temple.

Sam was moving towards him, weapon thrown down with a clatter, but Cas arrived first, his face, wracked with fear and dappled with blood across his cheekbone, swimming into view as he knelt.

If his was the last face Dean was ever to see, Dean could take some comfort in it. He refused to close his eyes again.

"Hey, buddy," Dean said, smiling lopsided and rueful. 

Cas's hand fell to cup Dean's jaw like a blessing; it turned out Dean was lying down, though Dean had no memory of seeking earth. 

Cas's other thumb rubbed across Dean's forehead like he was tracing runes onto Dean's skin. Dean felt something crackle beneath his bones: for a split-second, his heart stopped, suspended in pain. The next second was like being punched out of a cannon -- he sat up and nearly knocked his newly healed skull directly into Cas's.

"Dean," Cas breathed in relief despite the pallor of his complexion and the way his hands shook as they pulled away from Dean. Then: "Thank you," he told Sam, who nodded and hauled him to his feet by the elbows before reaching to do the same for Dean.

Sam patted Dean on the shoulder. Rowena stepped around the puddle of witch and grinned her smug grin. 

Cas looked at Dean like he might vanish and Dean returned the stare until he had to look away or… Or. 

There was crimson on the sleeve of Cas's trench, in a crease.

Rowena and Sam collected the angel blade, the dagger, the gory sword. Dean collected himself. He followed Cas's heavier than usual trudge up the stairs and into the coming dusk. The ache of wanting to gather Cas into his arms followed him all the way back to the motel.

In the other room, Sam was talking to Jack on the phone while Rowena hooted. Well, that's what it sounded like she was doing anyway, and since there was a child in the mix, albeit a twenty-something toddler who was 90 miles away, hooting was by far the least concerning noise she could have been making.

Not that Dean in any way was going to ponder what other sounds she might choose to unleash in a room also containing his brother. He sat on the edge of the bed nearest the bathroom and stared at the three jack o'lantern sized pumpkins that he and Cas had bought at a roadside stand a few hours before the case went witch-shaped. He envisioned the pumpkins with toothy grins and chose not to think about anything else with such effort it was a miracle he wasn't carving the gourds psychically.

Cas came out of the bathroom sans trenchcoat -- which was to say, almost naked -- and with a clean face. He sat down beside Dean carefully. "How are you feeling?" He looked at Dean with soft eyes, like Dean was the only concern worth voicing.

After a moment, Cas sighed into the space Dean was supposed to have filled.

"I guess," Dean started. He gave his own sigh. "We've fixed a lot of things, recently, haven't we?"

Cas tipped his head, waiting for Dean to continue.

"Like. Chuck's out there. But. Jack has his soul. Rowena isn't dead. You don't have a deal with the freakin Empty dogging your heels bad as a pack of hellhounds." Dean curled his fingers like his hands were going to betray him somehow; his throat felt full of glass. "You gotta stop saving me, man."

Cas took a breath like Dean had struck him. A variety of memories of actually hitting Cas -- blood crisscrossing, bruises blooming -- flashed through Dean so quickly he almost retched. 

He was trying to keep his mouth closed and his treacherous stomach obedient when Cas said, "You cannot ask me not to help when I can still help."

"You're the one who said I wasn't listening about your powers--" He held up a hand against the protest he could see Cas about to make. "And you were right. I dunno what to do about it, but I know you havin' to heal my dumb ass nine times a week isn't makin' things better."

Dean could see Cas's eyes were wet.

The shards in Dean's throat made it hard to speak. "You're worth more to us, to me, than just what you can do as a powered-up angel." He nudged Cas's knee with his own. "You know that, right? Not that I'm not grateful as hell for you fixing me up tonight, 'cause I am. Grateful, I mean."

He looked at Cas, whose exhaustion seemed to be draped around him like a cloak. Dean was tired too, and not just from the major brain injury he'd sustained earlier. He’d wasted so much time not saying certain things, not letting certain things happen; he’d protected the wrong things, maybe, or maybe the right thing the wrong ways.

Maybe he could blame lingering effects, illusory or otherwise, on what he chose to do next. 

Cas, he prayed, you might have died tonight. We… I. I almost lost you again. 

A prayer continued, whispered: Please let me hold you.

Beside him, Cas startled, looked over at him. Searched Dean's eyes and shook his head just a little, as though he could not believe what he'd heard -- as though having hoped, but misheard, was too agonizing a possibility to endure.

"Please," Dean said, sliding an arm around Cas's back, sliding himself closer on the mattress until he'd vanished the space between them.

Cas turned into Dean's arms. "I almost lost you again tonight too." His voice brimmed with tears. He hooked his chin over Dean's shoulder and Dean soothed his hands over the blades of Cas's shoulders. He thought of the shadow of those majestic, tattered wings, and held on more tightly. 

He and Cas rested like that, trembling, for what seemed like an hour or more, neither of them willing to let go. When sitting upright became less comfortable, they reclined together on top of the polyester comforter patterned in pinecones. Cas tucked himself into the hollow of Dean's body, as though he had done it before somewhere other than in Dean's imagination. Dean pressed his face into Cas's soft hair and let his eyes burn as they would.

None of it solved anything; it was simply more right than anything Dean had felt in a very long time.

[occult-castiel]

The Same Page

This is my @destielsecretsanta2020 gift for @eclypseaf!!! The request was open, but bonus points for Miracle being present. So I wrote some post empty rescue fic!

This one honestly gave me a really hard time and I have no idea why. I hope you like it and have has an awesome christmas!

[Ao3 Link]

The portal spits them out in the dungeon.

Dean stumbles out first, a half step ahead of Cas. Human, malleable, and very much alive with one of the little dude's arms draped over Dean's shoulder.

Cas stumbles forward. Dean shoots an arm out in front of him, places a hand firmly against his chest. He maneuvers his other arms under his trenchcoat, grips his side firm.

His skins almost cool to the touch — much too cold to be safe. Not for a human, especially a brand new one.

And what if he's sick? Or gets sick and can't get better? Without his grace, there's a whole new set of worries. A bad flu that gets worse until he's gone, a hunt going wrong, fucking cancer. Heart disease kills pretty much everyone, doesn't it?

He takes a deep breath and focuses on the gentle thud of Cas' heart against his palm.

The last eight months haven't been easy. Not between the alcohol Sam eventually cut him off from, and the hunts getting sparse, and Jack being terrifying and gone until he wasn't.

Cas lulls his head to the side. His inky heart sticks to his forehead, and his blueberry-sweet eyes are unfocused but still manage to catch Dean's.

It's achingly familiar, and he smiles easy. "Hey there, sunshine."

Cas pinches his brows together as his head swims to stay upright. He slurs through some half-baked, nonsense question about coral reef bleaching, and Dean's so relieved he laughs.

Cas smiles at the sound, dazed and feather-light, but the joy is unmistakable.

It's the best thing Dean's ever seen. Fuck, he missed him. Missed him so much he didn't know what to do with himself.

Cas winces — what little help he was giving Dean in holding him up falls. He makes up the difference quick. Weak fingers curl around Dean's wrist.

"Sorry —"

"S'okay. Gonna —" he swallows hard. Tries to shove away the distinct pin-prick in his tear ducts that always means he needs to man the hell up. "Gonna get you to a bed, okay?"

Cas grunts, a pitiful noise that's mostly air and entirely feeble. "Tired."

"Rest then. It ain't far. I gotcha, buddy."

When he nods, his hair brushes Dean's neck.

It's not well thought out. The lack of work and overload of carbs haven't done Dean's muscles any favors. His joints creak and protest every step, but his room isn't far, and he'd be damned before he let's Cas feel like he has to do anything alone this time.

Miracle hops off the bed the moment the door opens.

Dean lays Cas on top of the bunched up blanket. Once he's down, Dean slowly works the trencoast and suit jacket off, his hands careful as they trail across the thin cotton of his shirt.

Cas shivers, and Dean wrestles to tug the blanket out from under him, Miracle nuzzling the side of his leg the whole time.

She's probably hungry. Or just wants attention. He hasn't exactly been available the last couple weeks, too busy with his nose in piles of research. But it all payed off.

Cas grimaces in his sleep, and it twists the cords in Dean's chest. He reaches his hand out and ghosts his fingers across the sweat-stained hair stuck to his skin, gently pushing it to the side.

He'd said it once, not more than a month ago, in the darkness of his room, Miracle tucked as close as he could get her.

He said he loved me, and I — I didn't say it back. But I do. God I do.

Dean trails his hand from his forehead to the flushed pillow of his cheeks. The other knuckles roughly at his eyes and comes back wet.

He has no god damn idea what he wouldve done without Miracle to talk to. Cause he could never get it out to Sam. Not those last moments. Not what Cas really means to him. Always too close to an edge of something larger than any apocalypse they've ever dealt with.

He traces down low enough to brush across Cas' wrist, the pained look still on his face.

Dean swallows, his heart hammers hard in his throat. Timid even though the guy is unconscious, Dean grabs his hand.

His mind blanks. Turns to complete static — a jumble of half-formed thoughts about every reason he ever told himself not to.

He's an angel. The worlds ending. Always ending. He doesn't feel that way. Can't, the equipment for it's not there. It's why he leaves, isn't it? And what the fuck could ever hope to start when it's all always falling apart? When they could fall apart.

Everyone leaves.

A flash of cold prickles down his back, and he tries to takes a deep breath. It goes down ragged. There was something he read once, about picking out a sense.

Cas' breath, slow and steady. The clink of Mircale's claws on the floor. A muted buzz from the florescent lights in the hall.

He breaths again, a little easier. His fingers curls into Cas' palm, and his finger twitch against Dean in response. The dent in his brows relax, his jaw goes slack.

"S'okay Cas." He squeezes. "Just... be okay."

When his phone rings, dumped and forgotten on the other side of the room, he isn't quite sure how to let go. Like the ligaments in his hand have cemented in place, forgotten the muscle memory to make the movements happen.

When the second call comes through, Cas mumbles something. Dean's shoulder slack, and he pulls his hands back, clammy and with a slight tremor.

It's Sam. There's a small tug of guilt — he should've called him the moment he put Cas down. He knows he would've been worried sick if Sam was the one that had to go.

Sam's relieved too, promises to buy stuff for dinner on his way back from where Dean went in the Empty about fifty miles out. And he must hear something in his voice, because he stresses to go watch a movie or something and let Cas sleep it off.

Of course he's right. They knew Cas would be out cold. But leaving the room is still hard, and he lingers in the doorway until he gets a good look at Miracle's mess of tangled fur.

He hasn't brushed her hair, since that's practically what the fur is, in weeks.

"C'mon girl."

He grabs the brush from the bedside table, casts on last look at Cas, and takes Miracle to the TV room.

She hops on the couch next to him, tail thumping with excitement.

"You wanna get pretty to meet Cas later?"

She nuzzles his hand, sticks her nose against the brush, and a little bit of the stress from today lightens up.

He flips on some netflix show about baking food, and talks to Miracle as he starts in on her snout.

It's ritualistic to touch on whatevers going on with her, at this point.

As her fur smooths, he tells her about the Empty. Its piss-poor lighting, the mind boggling way directions work, how it has this awful burnt-licorice and gasoline stench clung to the nothingness of its everything.

It kinda makes his head hurt.

Almost two full episodes in, he has all her fur neat and tidy, and his little monologue has circled back to Cas. She'd know a lot about him if she could talk.

"It's hard to believe he's really back. And — and maybe it'll be good. We could, I dunno, get you a yard?" He nods, smiles. "Yeah, I bet your spoiled ass would like that. The bunker ain't a place for pets."

Miracle leaps from the couch, and someone clears their throat from the door.

Cas stands in the doorway, hunched in on himself. Dark strands of hair twist up in random directions, and the casual clothes Dean left him fit snugly.

He looks... comfortable. Like he slipped into humanity ages ago, not this afternoon.

"Cas."

He tilts his lips up, tight and sheepish. "I see you have a dog now."

"Yeah. Miracle. She uh — she helped me." He motions vaguely to his head. "Might not be batting a hundred up here if not for her."

Cas glances down at her, and the tense smile softens. "I'm very grateful then."

Almost reverent, he scratches the side of her ear.

Dean shakes his head. Blinks. Two things he never thought he'd see side by side mixed with the insanity of the day make none of this seem real.

Deep breath.

"She can — she can be there for you too," Dean says. "If you need it. Dogs are great listeners. Even the Madonna types like this one."

Cas gives a contemplative hum. "They are both blonde."

He puffs a breath of air. It's easy to forget Cas actually knows what he's talking about now, sometimes. Even if he does still miss the point by a mile.

"It was your turn."

Cas raises an eyebrow.

"To, uh, pick a movie." He motions to the seat next to him. "If you want."

Cas runs his bottom lip between his teeth and doesn't look at Dean. Doesn't say anything either. Just nods, walks over, and sinks into the couch.

It's a respectable distance. Close enough Dean would be able to sense him, far enough away they won't touch.

Miracle curls up on the other side of Cas, head flopped on his lap, right next to his balled up hands.

"Is it over?" His voice is small.

Dean doesn't have to ask. "Chuck isn't aproblem anymore." Cas sighs, slinks down bonelessly into the cushions. "We figured it out, took his powers. Jack's fixing up Heaven with it. Says he's gunna do that, find a way to put Amara back together, and then come home."

"Good. I don't think I'm up to fighting standards." He rolls his head to the side. They're close enough Dean can make out each muscle in his neck when he swallows. "You didn't have to save me, Dean. I'd — made peace with that fate."

It's bullshit. It's bullshit and Cas has to know it. He almost tells him a much, but if he can't have that talk now, then he never will.

He licks his lips. It doesn't help the dryness.

"Did you mean it?"

It's a dumb question, but one he needs answered.

Cas doesn't miss a beat. "That and more." The serenity in his words is endearing as it is cutting when he adds, "But we don't have to address it. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

It's Dean's turn to melt with relief. "Good — that's good."

Cas winces. "I understand if you'd like some space —"

He starts to stand up, and panic seizes Dean's chest like a vice grip. He grabs his wrist and Cas freezes.

"No! God no. Cas, it — it wasn't supposed to happen like that."

He looks confused, before some amount of understanding smoothes out some of the worried lines in his face. His eyes flick down to Dean's mouth for an instant. "How was it supposed to happen, then?"

"I thought, maybe on a hunt? Or — I don't know. Just... " some place I could say it back.

Its not good enough, saying it without saying it. Cas gave a speech. He saved Dean's life, saved the god damn world. All without knowing.

He shakes his head. Starts again. He had enough practice between thoughts he couldn't shove away and late night pet-therapy. "I thought you knew. Hell, I've been scared everyone knows. And if they did, you did too, right?"

"Subtly isn't always my strongest suit."

He laughs, and it's almost on the wrong side of sane. "Don't I know it."

He can do direct.

Slow enough that Cas has time to pull back, he runs his hand up his arm, cradles it against the back of Cas' neck. He leans across the small distance and kisses him.

It's clumsy and unsure, and Cas places a skittish hand on Dean's side like he's not sure what he's allowed to have even now, but their lips mesh together in a way that feels better than anything he can remember.

When they part, he's not sure either one of them are breathing. And he can't look at Cas, not when he says it. Not yet. So he presses their foreheads together, keeps his eyes fully lidded.

"I don't know how you could think you aren't worth saving. You — you're it for me."

"Dean —"

He shakes his head, and the tips of their noses brush. "I love you more than I know what to do with. You know that right?"

Bewildered, Cas says, "I didn't."

"Yean, well. Now you do."

He scoots back in place, flushed firm against the cushion. Their hands tangle together, and their knees are touching, and it's too much and not enough. But mostly not enough. Dean dares a glance over. Cas is staring at their hands, a pleased smile on his face.

And they're on the same page.

"I think you said something about a yard when I walked in?"

Instead of answering he says, "We should retire. I'm too old for this shit."

"Entirely?"

Dean shrugs. "A hunt here and there wouldn't hurt I guess."

"We'll talk about it later." He reaches over him, grabs the remote. "I think you said it was my turn?"

Dean grins, full and toothy. "Yeah, just no more romcoms, dude. I can only take so many."

Cas nods, curt and serious. "Of course."

He does anyway, and it's the best shitty movie Dean's ever seen.

[msmarvelouswinchester]

Irresistibly Yours

Chapter 2 - Noise Complaint

Summary - Y/N Y/L/N moves to NYC in hopes for a fresh start after a nasty breakup. There she meets her neighbor, the cynical lawyer, Dean Winchester. A love-hate relationship starts evolving between them ever since they met in the elevator one morning but a desperate situation and a string of lies forces the two friendly rivals to go on a date or rather a fake date. Will sparks fly between them when Dean gets to know Y/N real and up close? Will Y/N finally find her Prince Charming in the grumpy, workaholic, divorce lawyer?

Pairing - Lawyer!Dean Winchester x Y/N

Warning - None expect meanie Dean (Suspicious, isn’t it?)

WC - 2154

Square Filled - Don't put me in this position ( @anyfandomgoesbingo​ )

A/N - I promise the next chapter will have more of Dean and more conflict! This is just the beginning of a very long ride. Enjoy!

Beta’d by @miss-nerd95​

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

Series Masterlist               Masterlist 

The silence in the cab on her way back to her apartment gave her the quality time she needed to think. In a few weeks, Meg was getting married and now, since they knew, Y/N had to show up with her 'boyfriend’. She racked her brain, scrambling to come up with a good excuse because it was all a big lie.

Every time, however, she reached two conclusions - either make a fool of herself and admit that she lied or tell everyone that she broke up and be the one person at the wedding that everyone looks down on with pitiful eyes.

There was a third option, which was risque as hell too, cause Y/N barely knew the man and their first meeting did not go so well, but there was definitely something about him that made her blush every time she thought of him.The way he carried himself and the dominating vibes he gave off, sent shivers down her spine. Maybe he wasn't a morning person and she did start blabbering in the elevator the minute she stepped in. She swallowed hard when she remembered the way her name rolled off his tongue. ‘How did he know?’ She wondered.

As Y/N boarded the elevator, she thought about how, she wanted nothing more than to see a certain green-eyed man again. She had been residing in this complex for almost three months but she had never seen the man before. Maybe he was new here, in this apartment building, who knew? Mind plagued by millions of thoughts, Y/N trudged down the empty hallway to her cosy little home.

“Who invented these fucking heels?” She grumbled as she freed her feet out of the painful, yet pretty high heels when she reached the comfort of her own home. Shrugging her coat off, she relaxed as her ass hit the soft mattress of the couch.

“I need a date in seven weeks.” She said, making a mental note of the wedding date. This was the only wedding she ever looked forward to attending where she knew she wouldn't have to face the constant stream of questions involving her dating life and a particular man. All she ever wanted was to be with her close friend on the best day of her life.

“First dress fitting - tomorrow at 10.” Her phone lit up with an incoming text and groaning, she dropped her head backwards. Y/N couldn't even skip the wedding if she wanted to. She was one of the bridesmaids and it wouldn't be fair to both Meg and Cas, if she didn't attend it. A smile graced her frowning face when she remembered the time Cas proposed to her friend on Valentine's Day. Cliche- Y/N would say, but deep down, she knew she just wanted what Cas and Meg had.

A sigh left her lips as she got up, still in her work clothes. She put on some light music as she went into the bathroom to freshen up. After the long, tiring day she had, a warm bath and a Ryan Gosling movie were very much needed. Quickly stripping off, she stepped into the tub. She leaned her head backwards, closing her eyes, as the warm water soothed her aching body and her troubled mind.

“Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone,” Y/N sang along the song, slightly off tune but she didn't care, as she stepped out of the bathroom after some time. She let go of the towel wrapped around her body and stepped into a pair of comfortable pjs. Getting a box cold pizza out from her refrigerator, she turned up the volume of the music playing in her apartment.

“He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring, and said,” Y/N yelled out the chorus when she started to heat up the pizza. Her private singing session, however, was cut short by a sudden knock on the door. She grudgingly pressed pause as she walked up to the door to find out the unwanted visitor.

“Excuse me- Ms L/N?” As soon as she opened the door, she was met by a very familiar, deep baritone that had been haunting her.

“Dean Winchester. And please, call me Y/N,” she breathed out. The formality in Dean’s voice made her cringe. Her eyes fell as she took in the man in front.

Dean had gotten rid of the dapper grey suit and slipped into a much laid back look. A black polo t-shirt fitted over his body and plain blue jeans hugging his bowlegs perfectly. The look on his face mirrored the one from the morning and Y/N wondered if he would look better with a smile on. Her train of thoughts were again rudely interrupted by the man speaking.

“I assume you're having somewhat of a casual evening,” Dean said, his hands waving to point at her pjs, making her suddenly self-conscious of her clothing state.

“Y-yeah. How may I help you?” She asked, genuinely curious.

“See, I moved in the apartment right beside you a few days ago, and I think you might have noticed sometime or the other that there are other people living in this building as well,” Dean said, his face not imparting any sort of emotions, “You might be having a casual evening but I can assure you that there's at least one person who is certainly not. Turn the music level down.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open at Dean’s words but she wasn't going to turn down the volume just because a man turned up at her door, asking her to do so. His words were sharp, but his tone was downright rude, and it was definitely not because he wasn't a morning person. The least he could have done was ask her nicely.

“Well, listen here pal, no one's having a problem, other than you. So you can go back to your room, put on some earplugs and do whatever the heck you were doing before you decided to make my day more awful,” Y/N said, taking a threatening stance with hands on her hips, a deep frown on her face.

“I'll file a noise complaint report against you.” Dean warned with his pointer finger right in front of her eyes.

“It's just music. Learn to appreciate the little things in life.” She said while rolling her eyes.

“I'm a very busy man and I got work to do, alright? And speaking about music, play something actually good like Zeppelin and people will personally come up to thank you. This song is not even a classic.” Dean spat back.

“Believe me or not, everyone is a Swiftie at heart.” She smirked with a sarcastic shrug. Dean’s lips twitched in anger as his face grew more rigid before he said, “If you don't lower the volume, expect a noise complaint report delivered with your newspaper tomorrow.” He walked away before Y/N had a chance to even think of a comeback.

Glancing over his shoulder, Dean went inside his own apartment room right beside Y/N’s. She glared at the empty hallway before swinging her door shut and walked back to her room towards her amazon echo, turning the music down anyway. She couldn't risk getting a report filed against her, and the man appeared to be dead serious about what he threatened to do.

“Stupid Dean Winchester.” She grumbled.

Squinting at the clock, Y/N woke up the next morning to loud bangs on her door. 7:30 am, it read. Removing the covers, she immediately shivered when the cool air hit her bare legs.

Hair still a mess, she grabbed her robe from the nearby chair, putting it on along with her slippers before she warily made her way to the door. “Dean will be complaining now for sure.” She grumbled as she unlocked her door to reveal her friend standing on the other side in a dishevelled state, eyes red like a mad woman.

“Meg?” Her face scrunched up in confusion as the said woman shoved past her into her apartment. “You’re wearing your shirt inside out.” Y/N closed the door behind her as Meg took a seat on the couch.

“Can I have some water?” Y/N dumbfoundedly nodded at her friend’s request and went to her kitchen to retrieve a glassful. Handing the glass over to her, she sat down next to the brunette who gulped down the entire glass of water in one go. Setting the utensil down on the wooden coffee table in front, she turned towards Y/N with slightly glossy eyes as she spoke, “I don’t want to go and finalise the dresses.”

Her words elicited a laugh from Y/N before she said, “Okay, bridezilla, we can reschedule it. Cas should better watch out!” She chuckled out the last words.

“No, y-you don’t understand!” Meg grabbed her friend’s hands, surprising the latter, “I don’t want to try the dress on at all.” Y/N was utterly surprised over her friend's outburst.

“Honey, you have a wedding in less than two months.” Y/N cooed as a few drops of tears rolled down the bride-to-be’s cheeks. “Meg, talk to me. Did something happen between you two?”

The woman shook her head, letting the other lady in the room know that she didn't have to kick Cas’ ass to her relief, but it confused her even further. Since their engagement five months ago, Meg had been over the moon and had started planning every minute detail with high precision and finesse for her big day.

“What if I'm making a huge mistake?”

“Don’t put me in this position. You know how I am when it comes to-”

“But I need to know, and I trust you.”

Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line before she said, “Cas is the best thing that has ever happened to you-”

“You barely even knew me when I started to go out with him. We have only been together for fifteen months - five of which I have spent being engaged to him. What if I regret this later?” Meg's words were correct. Y/N used to barely talk to her when she had started dating Cas, but all through those eighteen months, as she slowly got to know the pair well enough, she knew that they were clearly meant to be in it for the long haul.

“But I have never seen you regret your decision to be with Cas even once… so why start now?.” Y/N politely answered, her hands letting go of her distraught friend's iron-clad grasp and reaching out to soothe her.

“Sometimes even if you have been with your man for what feels like forever, marrying him might seem to be the worst decision you can ever make, but it doesn't matter how long you have been with him. When you know, you know. Follow your heart.” Meg looked up at her as she mulled her words over before speaking.

“I love him.” She said.

“Then go, be with him.” Y/N smiled. Crisis averted.

A smile started to appear on Meg’s tear stained face as her eyes twinkled with a suggestive glimmer in them. Fiddling with her sparkling ring, she said, “Dean’s good for you. Don't let him go.”

Y/N was taken aback by her friend's supposition. She sat up straight in her seat as heat crept up her neck. Her mind was stuck in a turmoil as she tried to come up with an appropriate response.

“He’s not-Dean is not-” She stuttered, the words got stuck in her throat when she tried to think of a decent excuse. Maybe, this was the universe giving her a chance to take back everything she had said before, but the disheartened look on her friend’s face made her rethink her decision. After all, a little white lie never hurt anybody. “Yeah, he is a good man.” Meg smiled as Y/N played her into the deception game once again.

“Will he be at the wedding?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“What are you waiting for? Unless he is a figment of your imagination, ask him! I want to meet this certain Dean Winchester.” Meg giggled.

“I don’t have such vivid imaginations, Meg.” Y/N let out a nervous chuckle. She was now being given an ample amount of opportunities to tell the truth, then why was it so hard for her to deny everything she had said? Maybe she liked living in this utopian world where for once, no one deemed her as the broken, pathetic girl who failed to make a man stay. Maybe deep down, she wanted this damn lie to be true.

“I’ll ask him but you do know how men are about weddings.” She replied, having no knowledge of how to keep her end of the promise.

Chapter 3

Feedback is highly appreciated

If you want to be tagged in the series, lemme know!

[huntertales]

What Should We Name Him?

Summary: Three years after gaining control of his own destiny, Dean Winchester discovers a puppy abandoned on the side of the road. What should he do? Take it home to his wife and children, of course. Painting: Dean Winchester x Reader (Series Rewrite Setting) Word Count: 2,137. Warning: Possible spoilers for 15.19! (???) 

This might be my little take on what life would be like after the show “ended.” (Plus I believe this is how that scene should have ended.) I wrote this out of whim, so it's not perfect. But there’s a whole lot of fluff because we need it right now. Enjoy!

Dean loves the high he gets after finishing up a hunt. He spent three days in Missouri due to a nasty vampire nest Sam was trying to take down with Eileen that got out of control and required some backup. His brother and fiancée decided to stick around to clean up, letting Dean slip back to the bunker and to his own awaiting family back in Kansas. 

The Impala drives down the empty road he’s taken thousands of times that always leads him back home. His favorite tunes play as he enjoys the feeling of the wind rushing through the open windows all by himself. Today is perfect weather with the sun shining bright in the blue sky, not a single cloud in sight. No little kids trying to touch the buttons to the radio or asking what the strange rectangular object is after they went snooping around underneath the seats searching for a toy they dropped. It was just Dean and Baby, just like the good old times. The only thing missing was his wife and little brother in their respective seats singing along. 

Dean finishes out the classic rock song by softly slapping his hands along with the rhythm of the drums. The music gets shut off for a brief moment when he spots the gas station he always stops by to fill up the Impala. He continues on with his routine of getting gas and thinking about what to get inside. Maybe some candy for the twins when you told them about how well they did on their spelling test. Hell, he might even pick up a six pack to celebrate the successful hunt.  

He stopped drinking heavily as he had in the past. And the hunts he participated in slowly dropped to only a few times a month. Dean’s lifestyle changed dramatically when Chuck was kicked out of the picture. It allowed Dean to breathe and step back at the life he was finally able to control. The man wasn’t getting any younger and his kids were growing up fast. He wanted to be a good father, best that he could be. Which meant not having the twins creating memories of  him nursing a beer at ten in the morning. And forcing himself to let Sam do more of the cooking and incorporating some greens into his meals. 

Dean wanted to live long enough to see his babies grow up—see what they were going to do with their lives. Make decisions their parents were never allowed to. Dean’s entire life someone has been telling him what to do, writing down what to say. Not anymore. For the first time ever the curse was broken and he was able to do what he wanted. And he wanted to be a better man. He wanted to grow old with his wife and raise his children right. Watch his baby brother walk down the aisle with Eileen. Have some quality time with his friends and live his own life, damnit. And he was. 

Dean checked his phone while filling up Baby to see you responded back to his text about heading back from the hunt. Like always, you warned him about making it back safe and signed off with a quick ‘love you ❤” that never ceased to make his own heart beat faster. He smiled to himself and shoved his phone into his back pocket once again. If there was one thing in this world that he knew, it was his love for you was tried and true. Your love was not a story that could be written or broken up. No one or nothing would be able to take that away from him. 

After doing his normal routine and fetching a few snakes for the short ride home, Dean decided to make one more stop to the bathroom when he spotted the sign on his way back to the Impala. That's when he hears it—a whimper. The noise caught him off guard as his hand lingered over the doorknob. A few seconds passed before he heard it again. Dean stepped away and tried to figure out where the noise came from. He followed it until he came across something that made him stop in his tracks.

“Hey, buddy.” Dean ever so softly greets the puppy that is hiding in a cardboard box that has seen better days. Someone might have confused it with the rest of the trash next to the dumpster. Inside was a puppy that had to be only weeks old with old sheets. Dean dropped down to a crouch to carefully inspect the puppy for any possible tags indicating an order. His lips stretched into a frown when there was none. “Someone’s gotta be missing you, right?”

Dean knew he couldn't leave the poor dog on the side of the road. He always had a strict rule of never letting any non-humans into his car. The guilt would eat him inside if he let the poor dog remain abandoned. Dean picked up the box and carefully set it inside the backseat. He decided to make one more pitstop before heading home. 

***

One stop ended up turning into two. The vet told him there had been no reports of a missing German Shepherd puppy recently reported. Which meant someone had abandoned the dog at the gas station in hopes someone might find him. Dean could have left it at that and headed home. But he kept staring at the dog. It reminded him of something that happened a few years ago. For some reason he wasn't able to part with the dog. He needed to be sure the mutt got a good home. The decision led to him making another stop—to the pet store. 

The vet cleared the dog of any possible or diseases until the next check up. Dean splurged on the new addition to the family; puppy food the vet recommended, a dog bed, toys, anything the mutt might need. And most importantly a collar and leash. He got himself prepared with anything the dog might need. The amount of money he spent that day reminded him of the times he prepared for the birth of the twins. Expensive. But well worth it in the end. He couldn’t wait to see their faces. 

***

“We’re home!” 

Dean found his family where he normally did after coming home from a hunt; the twins in the library doing their homework while you and Cas kept tabs on the network of hunters across the states. You quickly looked up when you heard his voice echo through the bunker. An expression of pure relief crossed your face when you realized he was all right. You opened your mouth to ask him what took so long, but you found yourself with more questions than answers when you saw what he was holding. And the small creature at his side. 

“Daddy!” The twins wasted no time dropping their pencils and jumping out of their seats to greet their father. Dean dropped the bags to the floor and crouched down to be attacked by two six-year olds with tight hugs. He embraced the both of them and gave out forehead kisses. 

“Monkeys! I’ve missed you!” He greeted his children with the same amount of enthusiasm like always. “Were you two good for Mommy and Uncle Cas?” The twins nodded their head a little too eagerly. 

“Dean,” You got up from your seat and headed over to your husband who had failed to yet mention the extra companion he brought home. You pointed a finger to the puppy sitting next to him. “What is that?”

“A dog.” He said a little too casually.

You rolled your eyes at the obvious response and tried again when he stood back up. “What is it doing here?”

“I found him on the side of the road.” Dean explained. “I couldn’t leave the little guy there so I brought him home.”

“Can we keep him? Please?”

“Please? Pretty please?”

“I promise I’ll walk him—”

“And I’ll feed him—”

“Okay! Okay.” You quickly stopped the twins from chattering your ear off at the possibility of adding another member to the family. You let out a quiet sigh when they wasted no effort in warming up to the dog. He was friendly enough, giving out licks and happy barks. You thought about this for a moment. “Maybe we can look after him for a little while. See if anyone lost this poor baby.” 

You had to be honest, seeing the little guy made your heart swell in delight. It was always a dream of yours to own a pet. But the life you lead made it impossible. A lot of things seemed like that. Until a few years ago when it all changed for the better. You didn’t want to get your hopes up that Dean would be on board with another member of the family. Especially a furry four-legged creature.

“The vet told me no one reported any missing dogs. My bet someone abandoned him.” Dean said. Your expression quickly flashed into anger at the news at someone’s abusive and reckless behavior on a poor and defenseless creature. “I say...their loss. Our gain.”

“Wait, what?” You sounded surprised at his reaction. “Are you suggesting we keep him?”

“Why not? He’s updated on all his shots and the vet ran a whole bunch of tests. This little guy needs a good home.” Dean said. He smiled to himself at the sight of Mariella and Robert playing with the dog. Their smiles were too pure. They’d be heartbroken if Dean denied them an opportunity to have a pet. “Looks like he’s already part of the family.” 

You can't help yourself when you make your way over to the dog and greet him with pets and ear scratches. You remind the twins to be careful when they take note of the puppy's floppy ears. The three of you look so happy in the moment. He couldn't wait to see Sam's reaction when he got home. He always secretly wanted a dog as his own. Today that dream was going to come true. 

“What should we name the little guy?” You asked. 

The twins thought about it for a moment before a round of names only a child could think of were shot off left and right, too fast for either you or Dean to keep up on. You let out a faint sigh when the discussion quickly turned into a fight about which name was better. Dean was quick to defuse the situation before it could end in tears. 

“How about...” Dean crouched down to give the dog a scratch behind the ear like he seemed to enjoy. He examined the mutt for a second before the perfect name popped into his head. “Zeppelin?” 

“Zeppelin?” You repeated the name, your tone the least be enthusiastic about the reference he subtly passed by you. “Are you seri—”  

“Zeppelin!” Mariella shouted the name with excitement. To her it was odd and unique, something a six year old thought was perfect. “I like it, Daddy!”

“Me too!” Robert agreed. 

Dean smiled to himself when you playfully rolled your eyes. Zeppelin decided to explore the bunker, his new home, with curious but cautious steps. He made his way over to the angel and started sniffing him out. 

“Hello, there.” Cas greeted the puppy. He offered his hand for the dog to sniff to try and get to know him better. “You are certainly adorable. And a perfect addition to the family. German Shepherds are known to be a perfect guard dog. They are loyal and smart. Very strong." 

“Sort of like you.” You softly nudged Dean with your elbow. 

“Then it’s settled.” Dean said. “Zeppelin’s here to stay.” 

Dean never really did like dogs. He always complained they shedded too much, barked at the smallest things and required too much attention. His opinion changed ever so slightly after taking a hunt with a German Shepherd that required him to meld minds with the animal. His opinion softened, but the lifestyle he led made it impossible up until this point in his life. But seeing this poor fella abandoned on the side of the road, the exact same way he did when all hope felt lost? He couldn’t turn his back on the dog. There was still an ounce of happiness left in him that blossomed back up. 

This little guy reminded him that he was in control of his life. There was no one who was going to take Zeppelin away. Or you. Or the twins. Or Sam and his family. And most importantly, Cas. It was funny how dogs could bring out the best in people and reminded them small miracles existed. Maybe dogs weren’t so bad after all.

[michaelmilligan]

Destiel fix-it fic (post 15x19)

Okay so this is 1,8k of fix-it for that horrible shit we call an 'ending'. Yes, I am still not over the finale. No, I will not take criticism at this time. (I meant to work on a genderfluid Dean(na) fic which will likely have several parts, but this wouldn't leave my brain so here you go. No beta, just pure rage against the machine that churned out the finale.) (Also my first time adding a cut so if it doesn't work please tell me.)

Dean hadn't taken it well. Not that Sam could blame him. He himself was still struggling with everything that had happened. Chuck snapping everyone away, the fear and the desperation... But they won, and everyone was back. Well, everyone except Cas.

Dean had said “just us” and Sam had said the same and they had driven for a while and it had been good to be on the road, to finally be free. But at the end of the day, it wasn't just them, and that was good too. Great even. There were Jody and the girls. Eileen. Donna. Charlie and Stevie. Garth and his family. All these people they knew and loved, everyone they cared about. Everyone was safe. Everything was good.

Except for Cas.

It had taken a few days for it to really sink in for Sam that he was gone. After all, he hadn't been there when it had happened. Hell, Dean had never even really told him how it went down. But Dean's grief was undeniable, the way he drunk himself into oblivion, much like the last time they had lost Cas, when they had also lost their mom. Both losses had been temporary, but they hadn't known that at the time.

Now their mom was gone for good, up in Heaven and apparently happy. And Cas was gone too, probably in the Empty if he was dead. Sam missed him, of course he did. He was their best friend, the other father in their trio, however weird that sounded. Also Sam also missed Jack, not knowing if they would ever see him again, now that he was almighty and all that. But Sam handled it, he always handled it, and he had Eileen to keep him company, to hold him when he needed to cry.

Dean had noone, hadn't had anyone in years. Maybe he had never had anyone who would do that for him, and Sam was starting to worry about Dean's liver as well as his mental health. Not that any of them could be great in that department, but so far they had always been able to keep it together. Now Sam wasn't so sure.

As he walked into the kitchen, he half expected to find Dean slumped over, drooling onto the kitchen table with a half-full bottle of whiskey in his hand. Instead, the room was empty, no empty bottles in sight. Huh.

Sam set out in search for his brother, trying his room first but finding it just as empty. It took him several minutes before he ducked his head into the library, and finally saw Dean sitting at a table, several books open in front of him.

“Dean? What are you doing?”

Dean's shoulders tensed for a moment, but he didn't turn around.

“Research,” he said gruffly, sounding like he had woken up less than an hour ago.

“On what? You got a case?” Sam came into the room, looking over the books. He saw Enochian, an angel summoning spell, a dictionary... “What's this for?”

Dean pressed his lips into a thin line. “Cas,” he croaked out. “We've got to... there has to be a way.”

“Dean. I thought you said he was dead. You know we can't... There's no way to get him from the Empty.”

Dean gritted his teeth, looking like he was about to snap. “That dude almost got Lucifer out, but we can't get Cas back?” He sprang up, walking towards the nearest shelf just to stare at it.

“Dean. What even happened? How did... you never told me what happened,” Sam tried, hoping against hope that his brother wouldn't just clam up like every other goddamn time he tried to talk about something difficult.

“He... he just. Goddamnit, he said- He- he made a deal with the Empty and then-”

“Wait, what? The Empty was there? Why the hell would he make a-”

“No, I mean. Before. He made the deal to save Jack, back when... It agreed to take him instead of Jack, but only... only if... and he said...” Dean's shoulders were shaking as he leaned his forehead against the shelf. “He... he summoned it. The Empty. To take him away so it would take Billie too. And I... I couldn't do anything. There was... we had no weapons, nothing to fight the Empty, nothing to fight Billie and he...” Sam couldn't see his face, but he could hear the tears in his voice.

“Okay. Okay.” Sam let out a deep breath. It wasn't the first time one of them had sacrificed himself for the others. And like any other time, Dean couldn't let it go. Well, not that Sam had always been able to. “So you want to get him back. You think that's wise?”

Dean whirled to him, his eyes hard and full of tears. “What?”

“I'm just saying... Cas sacrificed himself to save you. And now you're going to endanger yourself to get him back, do you think that's really what he wants? And even if we had a way of getting to the Empty, who says that we're gonna be able to get Cas out, or that the Empty won't just snatch him again as soon as we're back on Earth?”

But Dean's face had completely shuttered closed. This was one of the times were no logical arguments would get through to him.

“I'll find a way,” he said, turning back to the shelf to sort through the books.

Sam sighed, and after watching his brother for a while, he left him to it, deciding to let him grieve in his own way.

It was about three days later when Sam heard a noise from the entrance. Frowning, he walked towards it, wondering if Dean had invited anyone. Eileen wasn't scheduled to come over, but maybe she had wanted to surprise him? He had told her not to come, didn't want her to see Dean like that, but then again when did she ever listen to him?

When he saw who was coming down the stairs from the entrance, Sam felt his eyes widen.

“Jack!”

The boy – God, whatever – smiled and raised his hand.

“Dean! Dean, Jack is here,” Sam called in the direction of the corrdor, then hurried over to him. He hesitated, not sure if you were supposed to hug the newly appointed God. But Jack was his son and he had missed him, so in the end he pulled him into a tight hug. Jack returned it, squeezing him and still smiling when they pulled apart.

Which was when Sam noticed the other figure coming down the stairs and he gasped. “Cas?” He looked at Jack, who just kept smiling, and Sam laughed and pulled Cas into a hug, too. Cas returned it, though a little more carefully than Jack, and his smile wasn't as bright. Maybe a little... shy? Embarrassed?

“Dean? Dean! It's- Dean, get your ass over here!” Sam called again, hardly believing their luck.

Dean jerked awake to a stiff neck and an aching back, hunched over on the library table, drool on a three-hundred year old book. He thought he'd heard Sam, calling for him, and he got up to walk out of the library in spite of his protesting body. “Sam?” he called as walked along the corridor, anxiety forming in his gut. What if something was wrong? What if they were under attack? What if the next big villain – whoever that might be after thee actual God – was here to get them? Or maybe just some regular monster, ready to tear them apart, taking them by surprise?

Dean pulled his gun and tread carefully, peering around each corner before rounding it. He heard voices from the entrance, and by the time he was almost at the door, he heard a laugh. It sounded like Sam... He still peeked around the door frame before getting in and saw Jack, just standing there, looking comfortable.

“Jack?” Dean made his way over to him quickly, not believing his eyes. “What are you- I thought you-”

“Dean!” Jack beamed at him and Dean couldn't not pull him into a hug.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Hi.” Jack squeezed him tight.

When Dean looked towards Sam, he also saw... no. This wasn't possible, was it? Dean pulled back, eyes wide, just staring for a moment before he turned towards Jack. “You- how-”

“I know I said I'd be hands-off, but...” Jack shrugged, looking apologetic. “I didn't want to be.”

Dean let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, his eyes going back to Cas. His eyes were prickling, and he suddenly noticed how Cas evaded his eyes, peering up at him from beneath his eyelashes almost shyly.

“Thank you,” Dean said to Jack, aware of the tremor in his voice, and then he rushed towards Cas.

“You goddamn- fucking moron,” he hissed as he wrapped him in the tightest hug he might have ever given anyone. “Stupid fucking dumbass.”

“Uh,” Cas made, sounding insecure. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean gripped him the shoulders when he pulled back, then put his hands on Cas' face. “You fucking- what does that even mean, huh? 'It's in the just saying it'. What the fuck. What the actual fuck!”

Cas squinted at him, opened his mouth, closed it again.

“You-” Dean cut himself off, running out of words, so he kissed Cas instead. It was a rough kiss, and long, and Cas seemed to have trouble keeping up, his hands coming up to claw at the flannel on Dean's back.

Dean was vaguely aware of a gasp behind him, but he was still laser-focused on Cas, glaring daggers at him.

“You maybe wanna re-think that?” He shoved him.

“Uh, I- I do?” Cas said, still looking terribly confused, and Dean couldn't help but kiss him again, just as roughly at first but getting softer over time until they were just breathing each other's air.

“You fucking asshole. You could have said something sooner! Before you got your ass dragged to the-” Dean stopped, feeling his face going through several emotions at once.

Cas squinted at him. “So could you.”

Dean stared at him, hearing Jack say “What's wrong, Sam?”, and yet he still couldn't have cared less.

“Goddamnit, you're right, we're both dumbasses.” When Cas opened his mouth, he added: “No, Cas, 'trusting' really doesn't cut it here.”

Cas huffed out a laugh – and wasn't that a sight for sore eyes. Dean kissed him again, hearing Jack in the background: “Wait, is this something new? I always thought they were just not very public about it.”

Dean grinned against Cas' lips, and Cas smiled back as Dean pulled him into another hug.

Meanwhile, Jack was still talking: “You know what, I think they need a minute. And I want to eat Crunch Cookie Crunch. Do you still have any?”

[carryonmywaywardcaptain]

What’s in a Name?

CarryOnCap’s Masterlist

Pairing: Michael!Dean x reader, Dean x reader 

WC: 2,135

Summary: Weeks after Michael disappeared with Dean as his vessel, you decide to take some time away from the bunker. Nothing could have prepared you for the talk you have (or the tearful goodbye) when he pays you an unexpected visit.

Square Filled: Midnight Snack

Warnings: Season 14 spoilers if you haven’t seen it. Some angst. Sort of sappy fluff. Revelation of feelings and implied mutual pining. Minor mentions of injuries. Kind of a corny, abrupt ending. Also this gif by @teamfreewillbettertogether​​ (I mean LOOK AT HIM.) 

A/N: This is my first submission for #spndeanbingo challenge round 1 hosted by @spndeanbingo​​ Inspired by this 14x01 gif and the end dialogue of 14x09. (I do not claim to own the dialogue from those episodes, I just paraphrased for this fic.) This was supposed to be a drabble but it got away from me. lol

You had just finished a case up north-- nothing big, just a few werewolves preying on teenagers who were exploring the woods on the outskirts of town at night for “something to do.” You had tracked down the last of the pack just in time to save a young girl from becoming an unfortunate midnight snack. After driving her home and observing a tear-filled reunion with her parents, you returned to the motel you’d been staying at.

You were exhausted, covered head to toe in cuts and bruises from the hunt, and you knew you needed some rest. But sleep didn’t come easily these days and, when it did, you often found yourself dreaming of Dean. It kept you up at night knowing he was out there somewhere locked away under Michael’s control, and dreaming about him only seemed to make you miss him more.

It was late, but you decided to venture to the gas station up the street to grab a midnight snack of your own, hoping the cool evening air and a little food might help ease your mind. After cleaning up a little, you slipped out of your room and back into the night.

It had been weeks and there'd still been no sign of Dean or Michael. Sam had been working tirelessly trying to find him, but so far he still hadn’t had any leads. In an effort to help with the search, you packed a bag and set out to connect with some of your old contacts.

...At least that’s what you told Sam.

Truthfully, you had decided to leave because you needed a break from it all. The bunker had begun to feel crowded with all of the new inhabitants from Apocalypse World. Sam, Mary, Cas, and Jack checked on you at all hours of the day because they all seemed to know about the feelings you harbored for Dean. You appreciated their concern, but the lack of alone time and space left you feeling suffocated and on edge.

On top of it all, the bunker somehow also felt eerily empty without your favorite green eyed hunter. Reminders and memories of him seemed to haunt every inch of the place. With how overwhelming everything had become, it was liberating to work a case or two while you took some time to grieve and process everything in peace.

After buying a sandwich, a six pack, and a mini pie, you thanked the cashier and began the short trek back to your motel. Still lost in thought, you had taken a shortcut down an alley when a noise from behind stopped you in your tracks. It was subtle and if you hadn’t recognized it immediately, it might’ve gone unnoticed-- drowned out by the bustle of cars, sirens, and drunken bar-goers still enjoying what was left of their night.

The familiar rustle of angel wings.

Realizing you’d left your angel blade in the duffel bag beside your bed, you tried to remain calm. Cas had no way of knowing where you were and you knew the few angels left in existence were doing all they could to keep heaven running. Grappling with the fear and hope you could feel rising in your chest, you wracked your brain for any other possible explanation for who could be behind you. But even before he spoke, you knew it was him.

“Hello Y/N.”

It wasn’t his voice-- not really. Even so, the sound was oddly comforting after so many weeks without it. If you’d kept your back to him, you might’ve been able to let yourself pretend it really was him. That he had managed to break free from the archangel somehow and track you down.

But it was the way he said your name that let you know who it really was. His voice was hollow. Almost formal. 

One thing you’d always loved about Dean--whether he was angry or worried or teasing--was the way he said your name. There was always so much emotion behind it. Always a trace of the unconditional love he gave to everyone he cared about. When he spoke your name, there was always a deeper implication: no matter what he was feeling or what you had done, you knew he would always protect you and have your back. There was never a need for him to say those things outright, because somehow you’d always understood.

But this wasn’t him and those weren’t the feelings you had when your name rolled off of his tongue. Taking a deep breath, you slowly turned to face the man behind you.

“Michael.” 

The corner of his mouth tilted into a smirk. He wore a gray three piece suit, a long coat, and a newsboy style cap. His head was slightly bowed, casting a dark shadow over his eyes. Instead of the relaxed, bow-legged stance you were accustomed to, his posture was stiff and typical of the angels you’d grown familiar with over the years.

“It’s nice to be able to skip the introductions.”

He raised his head and the motion seemed almost robotic. His jade eyes briefly flashed a bright electric blue and the longer you looked at his emotionless face, the more unsettled you began to feel. Everything about him seemed detached and unnatural-- a stark contrast to the man you knew.

“What do you want?”

“What do I want? It’s a little...ironic.” His lips stretched into a wry grin, but there was still an emptiness behind it. “That’s what I’ve been traveling all around this world asking people. ‘What do you want?’ Their answers are always the same: Peace. Power. Revenge. Love.” 

You exhaled upon hearing the final word--recalling the countless number of fantasies you’d had about Dean confessing something similar to you.

“They say the things they think I expect to hear. Give answers they hope will ensure their survival. It’s all so very...weak. Pathetic. Human. But I will admit free will does keep things marginally interesting...how these ‘wants’ seem to motivate you. To give you a cause to fight for.”

You stood motionless, soaking in every bit of the speech he was delivering. The way he spoke was flat and unhurried. You reminded yourself over and over that it wasn’t him, but as his voice washed over you...the hold he had on you was undeniable.  

He took a few steps forward, hands behind his back as he began circling you like a predator stalking its prey. 

“He’s still in here, you know.” He tapped a finger on his temple when he circled in front of you again. “Resisting me. Squirming and trying to claw his way out. To get back to all of you.”

“Is there a point to this monologue?” Your voice wavered, sounding feeble instead of assertive.

“I can sense how vulnerable you are in my presence because of this pretty face. Haven’t you ever wondered what it is that Dean wants most?” He began slowly pacing back and forth in front of you. “I know his thoughts. His desires. His reasons for fighting. I know all that you’ve been through together...”

“He wants the same thing we all do. To take out as many of you douchebags as we can until--”

“You are what he wants.”

You tried to swallow, but your throat had gone dry.

“...what?”

“Why do you think he said yes to me? Why do all of you sacrifice yourselves for each other? Again and again...and again.” He paused and met your eyes when you didn’t say anything. “For love. For the fear of having to live without each other. For the ‘family business’ or whatever. Now, Sam? Mary? His angel pal and even the nephilim-- sure, he loves them. He would die for them. But you…well, there aren’t words for how devastated he would be if anything ever happened to you.”

“You’re...lying,” you whispered.

“I’m just a messenger, sweetheart.”

He spun on his heel and held his hands out to his sides, chuckling as he shook his head. You wanted to believe everything he was saying, but you had no reason to. Michael had lied to Dean-- why wouldn’t he do the same to you?

“Why are you telling me any of this? Why bother finding me at all?”

“Because his squirming is like an incessant gnat that simply won’t go away. So, as a small attempt to put his floundering to rest, I decided to pay you a visit. To say the things he never could. To put an end to his doubts...the worry and the fear and the anger that keeps him fighting. To show him there’s no need to resist me any longer. Lucifer is dead and all of you survived.”

“So you’re pretending to care about his well-being now?” you scoffed. “That’s your play?” 

“He’s angry with himself for saying ‘yes’--but he wanted to save his brother and the boy. To beat Lucifer and, together, that’s what we did. He’s so worried about his family’s safety but, with my help, you were all spared from Lucifer’s wrath. Now, after everything I’ve told you...do you have any idea what Dean’s greatest fear is? His reason for continuing to resist me?”

As the gears turned and every fiber of your being seemed to have a hunch about what he meant, your mind refused to even consider the possibility. There was no way he could possibly mean--

“You,” Michael sighed impatiently. “You’re the one he’s most attached to. The source of his deepest fear and regret. Because what if something happened to his beloved Y/N? What if he never had the chance to tell you that he loves you? That he’s always been too much of a coward to admit it.”

Feeling like the air had been knocked from your lungs, tears began to well in your eyes at his admission. You weren’t sure if he was telling the truth, but if there was any way to reach him...you had to try.

“Dean? If you can hear me--”

“Dean’s not home right now. He’s served his purpose and his mission is complete. Now it’s time for mine.”

You knew you should ask what he meant, but right now you couldn’t care less about Michael’s mission. Taking a measured step forward, you gazed into his eyes and hoped he could hear you, no matter how deep he was buried.

“I love you too, Dean. More than you could ever know… And no matter what happens, none of this is your fault.”

Michael scoffed at your attempt before suddenly hunching over to stare at the ground. His expression quickly grew irritated and he shook his head as he rolled his shoulders back.

“So...very...pathetic,” he mumbled angrily.

“...Dean?”

He stood abruptly, jaw clenched and nostrils flaring as he closed the distance between the two of you. You watched as he curled his lip in disgust and placed two fingers on your forehead. When his pupils flash blue once again, your body went rigid as a warm energy spread from your head to your toes.

As he withdrew his hand, you breathed heavily and rolled your sleeves up to discover the wounds from your hunt had been healed. You glanced back at him with a puzzled expression and let out a small gasp when you noticed how drastically his demeanor had changed.

Instead of blank, dead eyes, you were met with tender emerald ones. He reached a hand out and lightly traced his fingertips along the edge of your jaw.

“Y/N…”

It was nothing more than a whisper; a silent plea for you to hear everything he didn’t have time to say. When the word escaped his lips, he drew his eyebrows together-- all of the raw emotion Michael had kept locked away painted clearly on his face. 

You understood completely, hearing it all in the way he said your name.

“I know, Dean. We’re gonna find a way to get you back. Just hold on.”

He cupped your cheek and a sad, longing smile graced his lips when you leaned into his touch. Without warning, his eyes flashed blue once more.

In the blink of an eye he was gone. 

Clenching the bag of food and beer in one hand, you wiped away a few stray tears and fished your phone from your pocket. After selecting a number from your favorite contacts, you began jogging toward the motel. The line rang several times before going to voicemail, but you quickly hung up and dialed again. 

Arriving at your room, you unlocked the door and began frantically packing your bag. You huffed in frustration when the call went to voicemail again but, on your third attempt, you finally heard Sam’s groggy voice.

“Hello?”

“Sam? It’s Y/N. So, get this--”

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[irrlicht-writes]

a meadow memory

When Lisa breaks up with Dean, he's left afloat. The break-up didn't hurt in the way he thought it might and he's wondering why. What if she's replaced him? What if she just didn't want to hurt him and that's why she wouldn't say why she left him? In order to calm down, Dean follows the birds' chirping to the nearby park where he meets a curious stranger. He doesn't know this man and yet he doesn't object when he's led into the forest. Maybe it's okay. Maybe in the end, it will be okay.

Pairing: Dean/Castiel Rating: Teen Look at the art here! written for the Dean/Cas Reverse Bang. Find on Ao3 here! @insertdeeplyrics @professorerudite  Want to be added to the taglist? Hit me up!

*

 “When you're lost, come to me. I'm the path you're meant to find.”

 *

It’s a subtle thrum but it awakens something inside the soul.

“Do you want to play?”

There’s a forest behind the house.

“You don’t have to be afraid.”

There’s a boy with the shadow behind him.

“Go hide. I’ll find you.”

There are lights at the heart of the forest.

“You won’t get lost.”

It feels like they sing to him; and within their song, he loses himself in the fog.

*

 It’s a sunny afternoon. It’s a Sunday, and Dean’s stomach is pleasantly filled. There’s no radio on, and Dean has been enjoying the silence. It’s a nice feeling, sitting in peace once in a while. Maybe he should open the window so he can hear the birds. His place is not close to any real forest, but the local park is just around the corner. They do have some trees in there that could technically qualify as some sort of wilderness, if one is generous enough.

“Dean,” Lisa says and she doesn’t break the silence. Dean has been expecting this talk.

“Yeah?” he responds but doesn’t turn around to face her.

“Can we talk?”

Her voice is soft. Dean likes the sound of it. Lisa is an incredible good person, way too good for him. He nods at her request.

He knows what she wants.

They haven’t been a couple for a few months now – they’ve just been living together. Lisa has been talking about kids, cooing over strollers in the streets. Dean wants kids too, someday – but not just yet.

And he doesn’t know if he wants them with Lisa; or if Lisa really wants them with him.

It’s okay though. She deserves to be happy, so it’s okay.

Lisa shifts behind him before she starts to talk.

“You deserve to be happy, you know that?”

Huh. That’s weird. It doesn’t sound like any other break-up speech he’s ever had. Dean turns around and blinks at Lisa. She’s standing a few bits away from him and she – she doesn’t look sad. She doesn’t look sorry.

“I know you put other people’s happiness above your own, Dean, every time. No matter what it means for you, you want to make others happy. And, Dean, that’s wonderful. But I’d wish, that sometimes, you’d put your own happiness as a priority.

I know that they say relationships are a give and take. I go to a car show with you if you in turn accompany me to a shopping trip. But you never took me to any car shows, did you? Because you knew I wouldn’t enjoy them. And yet I’ve dragged you to shopping mall after shopping mall and you’ve never complained once. Because you knew I was enjoying myself.

But know what? I don’t think that’s how it’s supposed to be.

I want children. You know I do, and you also know I don’t want to wait that much longer before having them. I also know that you don’t want them, at least not yet. And yet, if it were to happen – you’d marry me, like your dad taught you to. But would you be happy? You might be, in some time. But it wouldn’t be what you’d want, right? You’d be married to me forever, and you’d tell yourself that that’s how it’s supposed to be like.

But I don’t want that.

I care about you, Dean, I care about you greatly. I want you to be happy, and your happiness doesn’t lie with me.”

She steps closer to him and Dean can feel the warmth radiating off of her. It’s comforting. She gently takes his face in her hands and presses her lips against his forehead.

“I care about you so much. I love you, Dean, don’t you doubt that. But love changes, you know? I don’t love you any less than I loved you a month ago. But it’s different now. And I’m going to move on.

I know you’re going to blame yourself for that. I know that you’re going to tell people that you must’ve done something wrong and that that’s why I left. And in the back of your head – you’ll wonder if maybe you weren’t good enough. That maybe I’ve found someone better than you, someone who’s worth my time.

But that’s not it, you know? There’s nobody else.

And I know that you will still think that, no matter how often I tell you, so I implore you: please believe me. Nobody’s replacing  you. You’re perfect, Dean.

You’re not perfect for me, but you are perfect just the way you are. Let no one tell you otherwise.

So even when I’m gone, remember that, please.

You’re perfect, it’s not your fault and you deserve happiness.

Please remember that, as a favour to me. Please.”

 She’s gone after that. Dean doesn’t feel empty though. He hadn’t been expecting this.

He looks back to the window. He had been expecting the sky to cloud over after this, even if it would’ve just been in his head, but no – it was still a nice sunny day.

He can even hear the birds, he thinks.

 *

 It’s not his fault.

 He wakes up the next day and he doesn’t feel like the weight of the world rests on his shoulders. It feels very weird and he doesn’t really know how to deal with it.

Dean sits up in bed and looks around. It all still looks the same as before. Somehow he had expected things to be different. Lisa is gone, after all. And yet, there are still birds outside. The world didn’t change.

Dean gets up and walks over to the window. It’s another nice day. Maybe he should visit the park today. He could hear the birds properly there. Lisa might be coming to pick up her things today though. But then again, she still has her own key and might even prefer not to see him. Love changes, she had said. He wonders what she meant by that.

  *

 Dean arrives at the park just shortly before noon. There aren’t many people here – a few joggers, a few dog-owners and a few parents with their strollers. Dean thinks that there might be a playground somewhere in the area. He’s never really been here before – he’s never had the time before. He wonders why.

He finds a bench and sits down. There’s nothing particular to look at but it soothes him still. He can hear the birds so much clearer now and closes his eyes to enjoy them better.

He can hear their chirping so much better here and there’s also the soft rattling of the leaves in the wind. It sounds a bit like a lullaby and it reminds him of home but he doesn’t remember why. They moved after Sammy had been born, maybe his first home had been close to a forest? Could be. Maybe. Possibly. But then again, it hardly matters anyway. He’s here now and the noises soothe his soul in a way he didn’t know he needed.

“Don’t fall asleep here, the flowers aren’t blooming here.”

The sudden voice drags him out of his daydream. Dean blinks and looks up, not even really registering what the guy had said. He’s sitting at a disadvantage but the new guy seems to be about as tall as Dean himself. Dean can’t see much against the light that shines from behind the guy.

“I... what?”

The guy bends down to his knees, looking Dean straight in the eyes.

“You were falling asleep,” he says, “and I told you not to.”

Dean doesn’t know how to respond. On the one hand, yes, falling asleep sitting upright on a park bench might not be the best thing – and someone might confuse him for a homeless dude and call the cops on him – but it’s not like that’s a crime or anything.

“But,” the guy continues without waiting for Dean’s response, “if you want, I can watch over you. If I protect you, you can sleep soundly.”

Dean blinks irritated. He’s just supposed to trust this dude out of nowhere? Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.

“Sorry pal, but I don’t even know you.”

The guy cocks his head and blinks.

“You don’t know me,” he repeats slowly as if he doesn’t understand.

“Yeah! Who’s to say you’re not just gonna run off with my things?!”

The guy blinks again.

“You only have your keys on you; and they serve me no purpose. Why would I take them?”

Dean just gapes at the man; and now, for the first time, properly takes him in: the guy has dark brown hair, a solid tan; he’s got stubble on his face and the bluest eyes Dean’s ever seen. Also there’s a flower in his hair but instead of it being weird, it makes a strange sort of sense somehow.

“You’re weird,” Dean says and he knows he should get up and leave.

The guy smiles. It seems familiar.

Dean doesn’t know why.

“You said something about flowers,” Dean continues.

The man nods and pulls the flower out of his hair.

“It’s not safe without them.”

He reaches forward to tuck the flower into Dean’s hair and he has no idea why he doesn’t resist.

“Why isn’t it safe without them?”

Blue eyes blink at him.

“It just isn’t,” the guy responds.

“My name’s Dean,” Dean says.

“I know,” the man responds and when Dean blinks, he’s gone.

He reaches into his hair and pulls the flower out. It’s wilting. It was in full bloom before.

Dean wonders.

Dean wonders, and watches the leaves.

The petals are carried off by the wind and maybe it’s safe wherever they go.

There’s a boy crouching on his windowsill.

 *

 He doesn’t know why he comes back.

Maybe the park is nice. Maybe he enjoys the fresh air. Maybe he enjoys the flowers that don’t bloom.

It’s not even ten when he makes it to the park. At night, he had been restless and he had kept staring at the flower. He had taken it home, cradled in his hands. He had felt bad – when the man removed the flower from his hair, it must’ve been sad since it had started wilting almost immediately. Dean had still put it into water, in a desperate attempt to save it.

He had thought that maybe, with enough good intention, the flower could be saved.

And yet  – it wasn’t dead.

When Dean woke up this morning, the flower was still hanging on. It had lost more petals during the night, but right now, it’s still alive.

It’s remarkable.

Maybe Dean wants to find the guy again just so that he could maybe save the flower.

He doesn’t know why he thinks the guy might be able to do that.

It might be because it’s the guy’s flower.

 Dean sits down on the bench again and waits. There are more joggers here today, but maybe that’s because it’s earlier than yesterday. Dean doesn’t really care anyway.

He can hear the birds in the trees. And as usual, they are a soothing sound. The leaves from the trees in the wind just help add to that melody. He tries hard to not fall asleep as there are no flowers around here. But it’s hard, Dean has to admit. But he can do it. He woke up so early today that he can stay awake now.

 Despite his best attempts, he falls asleep. This time, nobody comes to prevent him from doing so. When he wakes up, he doesn’t know how late it is. He just knows that he feels worse than before. His back and shoulders are stiff now. That serves him right for falling asleep on a public bench.

Dean stretches and looks around. The park is definitely more filled up now, but it doesn’t seem like anyone is paying him much attention. But also – the guy isn’t here. Somehow, Dean is disappointed.

So that poses the question; does he stay here and wait, or does he leave? Should he come back tomorrow? Should he come back at all?

He sits there for a moment longer, indecisive. Then he gets up and gets ready to leave.

Maybe the guy hadn’t been here after all.

 Dean doesn’t want to go home, so he wanders the streets a bit. He’s not sure why, maybe the crowd just sweeps him away for a while.

Lisa is gone.

And she was right. He blames himself for it. He thinks that maybe she left because she’s met someone else. That she’s met someone who’s better than him. He knows that she’s said that she didn’t, but – what if? What if she met some guy called Darren who’s just better than him?

What if she’s at Darren’s house right now, laughing with him about Dean? What if Darren is man enough to give her what she wants? In truth, he doesn’t really want to think about it. But what –

What if Darren doesn’t exist? What if what Lisa said is actually true? He looks up at the sky. It’s still a nice day today. He doesn’t know what to feel about this break-up. He doesn’t feel as heavy or guilty as he thinks he should. After all, all his previous break-ups had been his fault, at least that’s what he’s been told. And now Lisa had said it wasn’t his fault.

It’s not his fault.

He doesn’t think he can believe that. Something breaking apart must always be someone’s fault, right? Just like his parent’s divorce was Dad’s fault. Mom hadn’t done anything wrong, but Dad had. So, for him and Lisa – it must’ve been him. Maybe he hadn’t been able to satisfy her enough. Maybe he hadn’t had the money she’d been looking for. Maybe he hadn’t been enthusiastic enough about kids. Maybe it had been because he hadn’t proposed to her.

Dean steps out of the way of other passer-bys and stops.

Maybe he’s just not man enough.

After all, that’s what Dad’s always said.

Man up, son, he’d say.

After that, Dean had hid his Harrison Ford poster under his bed. He believed it might be better if Dad didn’t see that hanging about.

Maybe it’s his fault that Dad left. Maybe it’s him that drove Dad to another woman so he could have another firstborn son. Dad doesn’t need to tell Adam to man up, does he? Adam doesn’t have any Harrison Ford posters in his room like Dean used to have.

He should’ve been better for Lisa. If he could’ve just kept her, then –

Someone touches his hand.

Dean looks up and sees the guy from the park next to him. Dean blinks.

The man gently holds his hand and just looks at him and somehow, Dean calms down. He doesn’t recall what he had just been thinking about.

“Hello, Dean,” the man says and Dean breathes easier.

The guy interlopes their fingers and starts tugging Dean who willingly follows.

It’s okay now.

It’s all okay now.

The boy smiles the brightest smile Dean’s ever seen.

 *

 Maybe he closes his eyes. But he can hear the birds so much better now. He knows he should be able to hear people passing them by and the cars on the street but he can only hear the birds. They’re comforting. It reminds him of a time long ago, when there was a forest behind their house and he could hear the birds when he woke up.

The hand on his is warm. It even feels familiar.

“Someone held my hand once, just like this,” he says and he gets no response.

But that’s quite alright.

He wonders – who had it been? Who had held his hand like this and why did he let them go?

“There was a forest behind the house,” he says and he can feel the warmth of the man in front of him.

The forest was important – is important. Dean just doesn’t really know why or how.

“I think there was a boy, but – I can’t really remember –“

They stop but Dean doesn’t open his eyes just yet. He can’t really hear the birds anymore but that’s not so bad. He doesn’t miss them, because he feels closer to them than ever before. He’s still holding hands with the man. Dean steps closer to him.

“The flower you gave me,” he says, “it’s wilting.”

“That’s okay,” the man replies and something inside Dean is soothed by it.

Dean drops his head forward slowly until he comes to rest on the man’s shoulder. He doesn’t know why he’s allowed to do this. But it’s nice, it’s so nice.

“Flowers bloom and flowers wilt,” the man says, “but as long as you remember them, they’re never going to be gone.”

Their fingers are still intertwined.

Dean opens his eyes and he sees that they’re in the forest. He can’t remember walking this far; it all looks different from the few trees in the park. But maybe it’s the same? After all, Dean has never gone inside so what does he know? He trusts the stranger, oddly enough.

They’re still holding hands so it’s all okay.

“We're all like flowers. We bloom and we wilt, but for as long as we live, we'll bring joy to those around us. And when we are gone, we will be remembered fondly. So don't fret what's been lost, and relish the memory. Flowers will bloom again, and if you come back, I'll be here.”

Dean doesn’t really understand but he thinks there’s some truth in that. He can’t be sure however.

They sit down and Dean lowers himself to the ground. There is softness to the tree crowns and the man is quietly sitting next to him.

“I feel like I know you,” Dean says.

“Mayhap you do,” the man simply replies.

“She left me,” Dean says. “She says there’s nobody else but I don’t know if I can believe her.”

“Why not?”

The man’s voice is soft and the trees around them make Dean feel better.

“Because – because we didn’t fight. I didn’t – I didn’t give her a reason to leave, I think. She just – she just decided that I wasn’t good enough anymore. I’m – I’m never good enough.”

No, Sam is the golden child. He’s just – he’s just the first son, that’s all. He’s never been good enough for Dad and even though she’s never said it, he knows: Mom prefers Sam as well. If he had disappeared into the forest, none of them would have missed him. Maybe they wouldn’t even have noticed.

“What if – what if I got lost? What if they never looked for me? What if they were better off without me?”

What if he’s still lost even now? Dean’s breathing becomes erratic. He hasn’t talked to Sam in a while, so what – what if Sam just doesn’t remember him at all? What if Sam is happy that Dean’s lost in the forest? What if they’re having a family gathering right now, while he’s here and they don’t even think about him –?

“Hush now,” the man says and Dean takes a breath.

“I have something for you,” the man continues and Dean is trying to focus on the grass under his back. The grass is fresh and cold and the dirty ground beneath him is solid. He didn’t get lost. He’s here, he’s real, nobody forgot about him.

Yes, maybe he’s not the favourite child, maybe he’s not the one to be proud of, but that’s okay. At least they still remember him. At least they haven’t lost him. They haven’t lost him.

“Here,” the man then says and drops something onto Dean’s stomach. At first, he doesn’t notice. The tree crowns are moving softly in the wind and he can hear the birds in the distance. Then he looks up to the guy. He has blue eyes. Dean hadn’t noticed. And there – there are wings behind him. Oddly enough, that’s not even weird. It’s like they belong there. Dean wonders how he ever thought that this guy was complete without them.

The shadow behind the boy wavers. It’s bigger than Dean himself, but he’s not afraid. The shadow will protect him.

 Dean looks down. There’s a stone lying on his stomach. It feels oddly warm. He sits up a bit and takes the stone in his hand. It’s filling nicely into his palm, and there’s a blue shimmer to it. It might be more of a crystal than a stone and Dean could get lost staring into it.

“What is it?”

“It’s important,” the man replies, “and thus is why you must look after it.”

“Why me?”

“Because in the end, it was always meant to belong to you. In the end, you were always meant to come here.”

“What if I hadn’t come here?”

“Then I would’ve found you somewhere else. You were lost, and so I found you.”

The crystal hums in Dean’s hand. It’s a familiar tune.

“What if I lose it?”

“You will not. But shall you lose it regardless, don’t fret. It’ll come back here, and I’ll come back to you.”

Dean looks at him.

The man smiles the brightest smile that Dean’s ever seen.

 *

 He saw Lisa a few days ago. He’s seen her holding hands with some fellow he’s never seen before. So in conclusion, she did replace him. He hadn’t gone to talk to her, but he’d thought it might hurt seeing her. Alas, it has not done so.

He’s happy for her.

Maybe their break-up wasn’t his fault.

Maybe he can believe that now.

He’s gone to the park a few times since then, but the man never appeared again. Some part of him tries to tell him that this guy hasn’t been real at all. That the flower and the crystal are just something that Dean picked up somewhere.

It’s the rational explanation.

But he knows it’s not the truth.

The flower in his apartment is blooming and he hasn’t watered it in five days.

The crystal is still warm to the touch, even after four days in the freezer.

 Dean walks up the stairs. He has a job interview tomorrow. It’s going to go well. He knows it will. And even if he won’t get the job, it will still be good. The interview he’d have after he would be rejected from this job would be even better than the one tomorrow. He has hope. For the first time in a long time, he has perspective – and that perspective doesn’t scare him. It doesn’t prompt him to steer off his path.

There’s commotion in the hallway.

The place across from Dean had stood empty for a while. It seems like there’s a new tenant. Dean’s never had much to do with his neighbours, but maybe this one will be different. After all, why not try?

Dean’s standing next to his door, looking over to the open door across from him. Should he go over? Maybe he should wait introducing himself until tomorrow, when the guy moved in? He’s not sure. Dean fondles his keys in his pocket, but he doesn’t pull them out just yet.

He wonders where the guy has gone. Would he only ever appear again if Dean lost that stone? And would Dean be willing to try this out?

 The forest behind their house is quiet. But Dean is not afraid. There’s a boy holding his hand and so Dean knows he won’t get lost. The shadows behind the boy are not scary at all, and Dean even feels weirdly comforted by them.

They feel like a comfort blanket, wrapping all around him. He wonders what they are.

But then again, it doesn’t really matter that much.

They are nearing the meadow, and it feels like the leaves are singing.

 “Hello,” a deep voice tears Dean out of his thoughts. It sounds familiar.

Dean turns around and sees a man standing there. The man has dark hair, and is wearing an ugly sweater. He’s carrying a box labelled “books”.

He’s got blue eyes, and there’s a flower in his hair.

And around his neck, there’s a necklace. It’s filled with a warm blue glow.

It’s the guy from the park, but – different.

Dean just knows it’s different.

“Hey,” Dean replies.

The guy looks at him and Dean’s not sure what he sees in these eyes. Could it be recognition?

“I’m Castiel,” the man then says and of course. What other name could it have been?

“I’m Dean,” he says. He’s half-expecting an I know, but it never comes.

What comes instead is a curious tilt of head. It’s adorable.

“Let me help you”, Dean says and Castiel smiles.

“I would like that.”

Castiel has the brightest smile Dean’s ever seen.

 *

 “And at the end of the path, we’ll meet again. It might take years, and the path might be overgrown, but if you keep walking, the journey will feel like no journey at all.”

[diminuel]

Okay, I live in a world of denial, so here is some vague theory about what is yet to come for Cas.

More under the cut because this is long and contains spoilers for 15x18!

I don’t think Castiel’s story is properly wrapped up. It could be an ending for him; he made a sacrifice to protect the man he love, in doing so revealing the underlying reason for all he did in all of Supernatural. (Confirming, what Metatron - who is much more aware of the story Chuck’s been writing and doesn’t have a Cas shaped blind spot - knew years ago. All Cas did, it was for one human.) I think the fact that Cas made a conscious choice to die protecting what he loves the most, was brave and beautiful.

And yet. I want him back, he can take an eternal nap later. Cas’ story still has some unfinished chapters. I’ll talk about three main issues:

First; Heaven dying. This has been showed to be an issue for Cas to address and for Jack to potentially fix. Which he might have partially done by making a couple of human angels (still interesting). However, the topic has been dropped a while ago now. And while I find that irritating, Cas doesn’t need to fix heaven’s problems even though he had no small part in causing them to be quite honest. On top of that, Michael has returned and Heaven seemed fine the last time we saw it. If that isn’t prettily wrapped up or Cas has no hand in it, then fine. I can live with that.

Second; Dean. I don’t believe for one moment that Dean wouldn’t try whatever he can to get Cas back. He gave up after Cas died at the end of S12, however, now Dean knows something he didn’t know back then: people can come back from the Empty and that the Empty can be summoned. There’s no way he’s just going to accept Cas’ death and move on with his life. Not even if people again came with the “it was his choice” topi, like Sam argued back when Cas was possessed by Lucifer. Dean didn’t let that deter him then and unless something monumental happens to make Dean not want Cas back (fat chance, even if Dean doesn’t love him back, Cas is still his best friend who died to save his ass), he will fight.

Third; the Empty. The Empty might have gotten its revenge on Cas by pulling him in. However, the Empty still is faced with a horrible problem: it’s so LOUD. Betrayed by Billie, there’s no way that the Empty is able to go back to sleep, not even with the satisaction of raining on Cas’ parade. It would be phenomenally bad writing if they didn’t address this issue and just forget that the Empty exists. I trust SPN too much to be so painfully lazy.

Now, let’s expand on this!

Initially, my theory was that Billie’s plan for how to take on God would parallel the end of S11, in which Billie also contributed one main ingredient. In order to destroy Amara, Billie gathered up all the souls in the veil (emptying it out completely) and with Rowena’s help they were transferred into Dean, who became a living bomb, powerful enough to destroy Amara. I assumed Billie would repeat that with Jack; first make sure his body is strong enough to house that massive amount of power (Cas couldn’t hold Purgatory, Dean wasn’t going to survive the souls for long). Instead of loading the bomb (Jack) up with souls form the veil, my assumption was that she would keep her deal with the Empty and have all the dead angels and demons transferred into Jack; that way Jack would be powered up immensely AND the Empty would have peace and quiet. I also thought the fact that we were introduced to Belphegor - inside Jack’s body - trying to suck up demons to power up to a god-like status, was foreshadowing it happening with Jack as well. Only that he’d succeed where Belphegor had failed. 

But Billie had another plan and whatever she had promised the Empty didn’t come to pass. On the contrary; Billie just made it worse by having Jack explode inside of it. Now it’s loud. And now Cas comes into the Emtpy when it’s already very agitated. And SPN wants me to believe that this won’t lead to some interesting things? The Empty can’t even enjoy its win when it’s so busy being overwhelmed by the noise.

On top of that, Ruby begged Cas to get her out. So far Cas hasn’t even tried to do anything with that. And maybe it won’t go anywhere, just like the Huntercorp Winchester and Anael characters seem to be going nowhere, but it was a BL episode and we have a BL episode coming up next. (Besides, BL might do something nasty like bringing Lucifer back and if that dude can come back out of the Empty then Cas can too.)

In any case, I still see a good chance in Cas, who is INSIDE the Empty now, helping fix the Empty and giving it back peace and quiet. Possibly by making sure all of its contents are tossed back into Heaven, Hell and Earth. Sure, there’d be major downsides of the Empty being emptied out (Lucifer, Azazel, Lilith and co ALL active on Earth and in Hell at the same time? No thanks). But all this is Cas we’re talking about; Cas who pressured an ancient cosmic being into returning him to earth. If Cas sees a chance to get back out, by striking up another deal (I help you, you get rid of me) then I don’t see any reason why he wouldn’t take it.

As you can see in my essay here, there’s no way Castiel’s story is done and it would be very, very disappointing if this truly was the end. 

What do you think?

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Makayla Part Three

Sam Winchester x Reader

Words: 2149

Part One; Part Two

Summary: Tensions are high in the bunker as you make a plan of attack against the vampires. Sam tries to make up for lost time. Everyone bonds with the newest Winchester. 

Notes: Okay, writing Sam trying to figure out how to be a dad is sooooo fun. Also, Uncle Dean is possibly my favorite thing ever. I hope you guys enjoy part three to this series! I’m having a blast!

Special shout out to my amazing beta reader Sarah, @suckmysupernatural​ . I love her so much and honestly, she’s helped me so much in getting these imagines out for you and she has some absolutely killer writing of her own!

Want more Supernatural? Find it HERE

-

“Mom!” You woke up to the sound of your daughter screaming. “Mommy!” Makayla was kicking at the blankets, her little fists swinging at some invisible monster. Another nightmare. You grabbed her and pulled her into your arms. 

“It’s okay, baby. Wake up. I’ve got you.” You rocked her back and forth until her eyes opened, fat tears spilling onto her cheeks. “You’re alright, Kayla.”

“It was the monsters again. The shadow man.” 

“He isn’t here, baby.” You ran your fingers through her hair. “He can’t hurt you.” Your door flew open and Dean and Sam rushed in, Mary peaked out behind them. 

“What is it? Did it hurt you?” Sam rushed to the bed while Dean checked every corner, both holding their pistols. Mary even had a machete at the ready. 

“It’s okay, guys. She just had a bad dream.” You explained, groggily getting out of bed with Kayla still trembling in your arms. “Do you guys have any milk? That usually helps her calm down.” Sam thought for a moment, but Dean responded quickly. 

“Chocolate or white?” Sam turned and gave him a strange look. “What? That stuff is the nectar of the gods, Sammy.” Sam shook his head. 

“I can’t believe you're older than me.” 

“C-can I have chocolate milk, daddy?” Kayla sniffed.

“See, the kid gets it.” Dean scoffed. Mary smacked his arm. Sam was still processing being called dad. 

“Come on, I’ll take you to the kitchen.” Sam held out his arms to take her and you hesitated. Then you remembered that you had been doing this for four years and he had missed all of it. You tried to give him a peace making smile, but he ignored you. Makayla buried her face in his shoulder, trying to hide her tears like a tough girl. Sam sat her down and went over to the fridge, finding the chocolate milk hidden behind a case of beers. 

“I woke everybody up.” Makayla cried, covering her face with her small hands. Sam poured the milk and hurried back over to her. 

“Hey, no, it’s okay.” He soothed, gently pulling her hands away. “Here, have some of this.” He held up the glass of milk to her lips and she drank slowly, her tears eventually stopping. “Better?” She nodded slightly. Sam pulled up a chair beside her, setting the now half empty cup on the table. 

“I bet you never get scared.” Makayla looked at him, her big blue-green eyes filled with awe. Her eyes looked like his. Sam smiled. 

“I get scared all the time.” 

“Really?” She gasped. 

“Oh yeah. In fact, I have nightmares too.” Her mouth fell open and Sam continued, his tone sweet and caring. “I used to be really scared of my nightmares, but you know what I did?” She leaned forward excitedly. “I told myself that I can face anything as long as I remember that I’m not alone. So the next time that you get scared by the…”

“The shadow man.” She shivered. 

“Okay, the next time you get shared by the shadow man, you just remember that you’ve got me and your mom and your Uncle Dean and Grandma Mary. You’ve even got an angel on your side.” Her eyes widened.

“An angel?” Sam couldn’t help but laugh at her excitement. 

“That’s right, sweetie, Uncle Cas is like your guardian uncle.” Cas could barely guard himself most of the time, but she didn’t need to know that. “You can always fight your fears when you remember that you are never alone.” She hugged his arm, her cheek pressed against his shoulder. 

“My mom is right.” She beamed. “You are a hero.” And just like that, Sam Winchester’s heart melted and not just for the little girl clinging to him. Yup… he was in trouble.

-

Sam stayed up most of the night getting Makayla back to sleep so he slept in a little longer than the rest of the bunker. Mary got up first and made the coffee, followed by you and then a very disgruntled looking Dean. You were curled up in one of the chairs, looking over your journal. There had to be some way to connect all of your research to find the vampires’ nest. 

“It looks like that girl has got Sam wrapped around her finger already.” Mary smirked, looking at you as she sipped her coffee. She wasn’t your biggest fan, of course, but heart breaker or not, you still gave Sam what she had always hoped for him- a family of his own. Dean made a sound, but he was still only half awake. 

“So I’ve pinpointed the area of the nest, but not the specific location.” You slid your journal across the table to him. “During slower hunting seasons, they’ve stayed near home in Springfield, Colorado. As far as I know, there’s fifteen, maybe seventeen.” 

“Perfect,” Dean grumbled. You were about to add something when your eyes went wide.

“Dean!” You shrieked, pointing to the doorway. He turned around in confusion. 

“Oh god,” He jumped out of his chair and rushed to Makayla, who had somehow found his pistol and was now pointing it at his mother. “Hey kiddo, I’m going to need you to give that back to me.” He laughed nervously, holding out his hand. 

“How did she get that?” Mary exclaimed. 

“Hell if I know.” Dean kept smiling, hoping that Makayla would calmly hand over his very lethal weapon. 

“That’s a bad word, Uncle Dean.” Kayla scolded, shaking the pistol at him. Dean’s eyes widened frantically. 

“Makayla Mary Y/L/N, give him that gun. You know that it’s not a toy.” Your mom voice instinctively kicked in and Makayla pouted her lip, giving you her classic puppy dog gaze. You could tell that Dean’s resolve was failing to her cuteness, but you were holding strong. You put your hands on your hips. “Now.” She handed Dean his pistol and he quickly tucked it into his waistband. Mary was looking at you, blush spreading on her cheeks. 

“What did you say her name was?” She gasped. You hadn’t even realized that you said her full name. 

“It’s um, Makayla, after my best friend. And Mary… after you.” Even if Sam didn’t know when she was born, you still wanted his family to be a part of her. For the first time since you’d met, Mary looked at you without glaring. She looked really touched. 

“Piggyback ride!” Makayla squealed before suddenly jumping onto Dean’s back. 

“Son of a-” He started until you gave him a stern look. He glared back at you, but underneath his annoyance, he had a tone of affection in his voice when he spoke to his niece. “Alright kid, but only for a few laps.” You looked on with an amused smile. Dean even made a few horse noises, making Makayla giggle. You felt your phone buzz in your pocket. It was Naomi, probably just calling to check in and make sure you were alright.

“Miss me already? How sweet.” You snarked. Your smirk dropped when it wasn’t her voice on the other line. 

“We’ve been looking for you for a long time.” The man drawled. Your heart dropped. You knew that voice. That night flashed through your head. That fake southern sweetness singing your name as they hunted you, your best friend’s blood still dripping from their lips. Montgomery. 

“Where’s Naomi?” You snapped, your changed tone catching Mary’s attention. 

“She was delicious.” He laughed. You tried to focus on your anger to cover up the pain that shot through your chest. 

“I’m going to end you, you bastard.” You said through gritted teeth. He just laughed. 

“We know all about the little team you’ve assembled. It’s touching really. To think I’ve inspired a family reunion.” The vamp mocked you and you could feel the hot tears blurring your vision. “Make no mistake, Y/N. They’ll all die. Starting with that handsome tall one, the one that knocked you up all those years ago. But don’t worry, I have bigger plans for you.” His voice changed to a terrifying growl. “I’m going to turn you, Y/N. Turn you into the thing you’ve hated for so long. And that brat will be your first kill.” 

Montgomery hung up and you looked at the phone with a shaking hand. Don’t let him get to you. Don’t let him get to you. You threw the phone against the wall, watching it shatter on the floor. You didn’t even see Sam standing there. You were lucky you missed his head. Dean put a frightened Makayla down. 

“Hey Kayla, why don’t you go with Grandma Mary for a little while?” Dean gave her a little push towards his mother and Mary took her to the other room. His flashed back to you. “The hell was that?”

“They killed Naomi.” You said, resisting the urge to wreck anything you could get your hands on, especially since Dean was the closest. “They killed her because she helped me.” Naomi was a good friend. Whenever you needed someone to watch over Makayla, it was Naomi’s place that you took her to. No questions as long as you came back in one piece. 

“I’m sorry.” Sam sighed. His kind tone nearly made you break. You needed someone to yell, to blame you for letting this happen. 

“We’ve got to take this sons of bitches out.” Dean was itching to kill and he knew you were too. 

“We need a plan first, Dean. We can’t just go in swinging machetes.” Sam scoffed. “We don’t even know where they are.” 

“We can always draw them out.” You suggested. “They want me, they can come and get me.” 

“What? No.” Sam exclaimed. “That’s not even remotely an option.”

“Sam, it might be the only way to get to them.” You refuted. “They’ve been hunting me for too long. If Montgomery wants to dance, then I say ‘let’s dance’.”

“Did you suddenly forget that this isn’t just about you?” His jaw clenched and he crossed the kitchen to you. 

“I’m doing this for Makayla.” 

“No, you’re doing this for you!” Your faces were too close together and the look in his eyes made you take a step back. “You’ve gotten that sweet girl messed up in your fight for revenge when she should have grown up playing with teddy bears and Barbies.” That was the last straw. This wasn’t just about you. 

“I am not John, Sam.” You spat. How dare he stand there and call you a bad mother? Sam just glared. 

“Really, cause it seems to me you’re just like him. Makayla is growing up just like I did. A parent obsessed with vengeance, no regard for how screwed up they’re making their kid!” He barely finished his sentence before you slapped him.

 Nobody said a word. Sam jerked his head back towards you and Dean was ready to step in before this got ugly. The moment was interrupted, however, by the quiet sound of crying. Your heart dropped and a wave of guilt washed over both you and Sam. Makayla looked up at her parents. 

“We’re supposed to be a family.” She bawled. “Why do you have to fight?” Before either of you could say anything, she took off down the hall. 

“Makayla!” Sam yelled, feeling absolutely awful. 

“Kayla, honey come back!” The three of you went after her, but it was a big bunker and she was a pretty small child. “Makayla!”

“Damn that kid is fast.” Dean muttered. You stopped. 

“Okay, Dean, you go check the dungeon, I’ll go check the bedrooms, and Sam you can look in the garage.” You suggested. Sam nodded, your fight put aside, but not forgotten. His cheek still stung a little. 

“Makayla!” He called out, hearing you and Dean depart for your designated areas. He opened the door to the garage and was surprised to find the door open. “Makayla, come on out.” A cold breeze blew in and he noticed a little huddled form just outside the garage door. He took off his flannel and slowly peeked outside. “Sweetheart, what are you doing out here?” He draped his shirt around her. It might as well have been a blanket. 

“I-I don’t like yelling. The shadow man always yells.” She cried. Sam sighed. He had made his daughter cry because he couldn’t just face his real feelings for you. 

“I’m so sorry sweetie, you’re mom and I were having a disagreement. We won’t yell anymore.” 

“Why did Mommy hit you?” 

“She didn’t mean to.” He gave her a convincing smile. Makayla peeked over his shoulder. 

“Who’s that?” Sam’s brows furrowed together. 

“Wh-” His head was slammed into the ground before he could even turn around. 

“Leave my daddy alone!” Makayla cried and a person in all black picked her up. 

“No…” Sam said hazily, his consciousness slowly fading. “Makayla…”

-

Continue to Part Four

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