#he refused to be what his dad wanted when he went to Stanford

[xbloodjunkie]

change is going to come, but when when when?

townie - mitski // spn

[ynscrazylife]

Eek! Yay!

So since I'm just a few episodes ahead I'm just going to keep it kind of vague. What do you think of a younger sister whose just a little younger than Sam? Dean practically raising her and so they're super close but when Sam leaves for college their dad decides that maybe the hunter life isn't the best for his daughter so he leaves her behind with a family friend. Imagine the angst and abandonment issues (def not me) like after Dean picks up Sam he tracks down his younger sister he hasn't seen in like a year and she just never gave up hunting so now she's actually pretty good at it? Can you imagine how awkward that reunion would be?? Maybe they're hunting down a monster together or something??

Sorry, this isn't exactly a scenario so much as my own personal idea for a backstory? I don't know but if you like it or you want something else let me know cause there's tons more that are similar or completely different from this one 😏

Great minds think alike cause I kinda had an idea in mind where Dean and Sam meet up with their sister through a hunt! This is a little different than what you put in the ask tho, so I hope that’s alright. I also feel like there is enough for a part 2 so I could end up adding to this! And this would be a fun OC concept to make 👀 if anyone wants that.

a reunion for the ages (dean & sam winchester x sister!reader)

The thing that makes this entire situation, what your life has become, so backwards and twisted is that at first, you didn’t actually want to hunt. You wanted to go to college, like Sam. You weren’t even that much younger than him and in his first year, he seemed to love it. But when your time rolled around, you didn’t get into Stanford.

Yes, there were other colleges that accepted you, but you really wanted to be with your big brother. The rejection hit you hard and as a result (and needing a distraction), you threw yourself into hunting. You became careless and reckless and instead of talking with you about it, your dad made a decision for you: that you weren’t cut out for hunting. He left you and took Dean with him.

When Dean realized what was going on, he of course tried to stop his dad. They got into a pretty bad fight over it. But he was a stubborn man and he refused to go back for you. Dean tried calling you, but thinking that he was in on it with Dad, you refused to pick up. You kept in touch with Sam for a little while, but the both of you got busy as time went on, and the weekly calls stopped.

A few years later, Dean and Sam have hit the road, intent on finding Dad. The backseat of the Impala, which was usually occupied by you, is empty.

“I thought if I gave you some time you might bring it up yourself, but dude, are we picking up Y/N or not?” Sam asks finally, no longer wanting to beat around the bush about it. He knows about Dad and Dean leaving you behind, but assumes that at some point you would’ve made up with them.

“She shouldn’t be involved in this,” Dean says resolutely, keeping his eye on the road ahead, firmly gripping the steering wheel.

“You had no problem involving me in this,” Sam points out, trying not to sound upset over it. There was a small part of him that wonders if he hadn’t gone with Dean, would he’ve been able to save Jess? Still, he knows that he went willingly, and that he could’ve said no.

“You know how to hunt and fight. The last time I saw Y/N hunt . . . Trust me, it didn’t go well,” Dean mutters, definitely not in the mood to have this conversation.

“Shouldn’t we at least let her know what’s going on with Dad?” Sam suggests, now more curious about what happened between you and Dean and Dad. You never gave many details about it.

“Have at it, if she’ll pick up,” Dean says, throwing one hand in the air. He’s trying to play it off as if he doesn’t care, but he does. He misses you.

Sam tries but, as Dean predicted, you don’t answer. Over the next couple days, they get wrapped up into a case where they suspect an angry ghost is the perpetrator, going after the people that they blame for their death. Thankfully they’re able to find the object that the ghost is attached to, a music box. What they don’t expect, however, is to be dealing with a ghost possessing someone. It’s a chef, to be exact, which leads them to their current situation: fighting the possessed chef in his kitchen.

“Sam, a little help here?!” Dean yells, fist-fighting the enraged chef, who looks a little ridiculous in his white chef’s hat.

“I don’t have any iron! Or salt!” Sam yells back, rummaging through his bag in search of something, anything, that might help.

Suddenly, someone runs into the room from behind the guy and jumps on his back. It’s a woman, with a bat in her hand. As the guy stumbles back, she hits him in the head repeatedly, until the guy throws her off his back and onto the table. The woman smacks him again with the bat, then gets salt from out of her pocket, and throws it at him. The ghost is expelled from his body and he drops to the floor.

Dean and Sam exchange looks, wondering who the hell she is.

The ghost isn’t done yet, though. It lifts the woman into the air and lets her drop onto the table, which cracks. She falls onto the floor and the ghost lunges for her, disappearing and now possessing her. Dean and Sam prepare themselves for another fight, only to both freeze when the woman stands up and turns around.

It’s their sister. Their little sister, who’s meant to be enjoying a hunt-free life. There’s a gash on her forehead which is leaking blood down her face and within seconds, she’s lunging at Sam.

He falls back, not sure what to do. If this were anyone else being possessed, he’d fight back, but he doesn’t want to hurt you.

“Y/N, Y/N, c’mon!” He yells, doing his best to dodge your hits.

Dean runs around and grabs you in a bear-hug, pinning your arms to your sides. He drags you back, even as you thrash. “Get some salt, Sam!” He says, struggling to manage you.

“I told you, I don’t have any!” Sam repeats, frustrated.

“It’s a KITCHEN!” Dean practically screams.

While Sam looks for salt, you twist out of Dean’s arms. The two of you go at it but eventually, Dean’s able to get you down on the ground. He feels bad about pressing his knee on your abdomen, holding your arms down, but he has to keep you there.

“I found a salt shaker,” Sam says, kneeling down by your head. “We gotta destroy the music box, though, before the ghost possesses one of us.”

“Alright, do it, but give me the salt,” Dean says, moving your arms above your head and holding your wrists with one hand. With his other, he takes the salt and has to pry your jaw open to pour the salt in your mouth.

You cough and splutter, but Dean forces your mouth to close until you’ve swallowed the salt. Finally, the ghost leaves your body. Dean throws the salt shaker to Sam, who salts the music box before chucking it into the oven.

“Alright, Y/N, we gotta go,” Dean says, throwing one of your arms over his shoulders and pulling you to your feet.

All you can do is lean against him and mumble your brother’s name, your head spinning.

Sam grabs the chef and the four of you stumble out the back exit. Sam lays the chef on the ground and calls the fire department, then you guys make your getaway in Dean’s car.

“I’m staying with her,” Sam decides, sitting in the backseat with you while Dean starts to drive.

“Sam . . . Dean? What’re you doing here?” You ask as Sam tends to your head with the first aid kit that they keep in the car. You can hardly believe that you’re really with your brothers again.

“Could ask you the same question, kid. Sammy and I were hunting that ghost,” Dean says, speeding up a little to get to the motel faster.

“So was I,” you say. Your head feels far too heavy to hold up on your own right now so you let it lean against Sam’s shoulder.

“What?” The brothers ask in unison. They weren’t sure what answer they were expecting but it wasn’t that.

“Been hunting ever since you and Dad left, Dean,” you tell them. Even though you are in pain, you don’t miss the beat of silence that follows.

“You were pretty good back there,” Sam compliments, ruffling your hair a bit. With your head wound bandaged up, he slings his arm around you for the rest of the drive.

Dean is quiet, his fingers thumping against the steering wheel, until the three of you arrive at the motel. Sam helps you out and lays you down on his bed. “I’ll be right back, gonna get you an ice pack,” he says, going to the mini ridge.

Dean sits across from you on his own bed, sighing. “How are you feeling?” He asks.

“Like I got thrown onto a table . . . Oh wait, I did,” you answer sarcastically, mustering up a smile.

Sam returns, giving you the ice pack and then sitting next to Dean. He glances between his siblings, sensing some tension. “Do you two need to . . . Talk or something?” He asks.

“You’ve really been hunting this whole time?” Dean asks you, still in a bit of disbelief.

You nod. “I got my act together after Dad . . . After you and Dad left. I wanted to prove him wrong,” you explain, shrugging. “Where is he, anyway?”

Sam and Dean exchange a look. “We don’t know. We’ve been hunting and hoping to find him in the process,” Sam says.

You nod slowly. Your dad taking off isn’t that uncommon, but it is uncommon to see your brothers hunting together. “I’ll get out of your hair soon,” you mumble, not sure that they wanted you around.

“Woah, wait. There’s no rush. Sam was right, you were pretty good back there . . . We could use your help,” Dean says. He’s not going to let you go so easily this time around.

“Really?” You say, a little surprised. You sit up in bed, taking the ice pack off your forehead.

“Yes. And keep that on,” Dean says quickly, taking the ice pack from you and pressing it to your wound himself. He moves to sit down next to you, making you roll your eyes, but you don’t argue. It’s kinda nice to have him helping you out, he’s always been protective over you and Sam.

“The Three Musketeers, all back together again,” Sam jokes, just to annoy you both.

“Is it too late to back out now?” You ask.

“Yes,” the brothers say. You’re in too deep now, Dean and Sam aren’t letting you go again.

[starfilmz]

SHOW ME WHERE IT HURTS — SAM W.

⤷ An argument between sam and dean lead for the younger winchester to call the teen help line his friends has been bugging him about. ᡣ𐭩

cw: gn!reader, sam pov, platonic relationships, maybe a little of mischaracterization, jess is here, swearing, takes place in s1ep1, unbeta’d so mistakes are around, inspired by dawson’s creek’s college help line and this fic (read if you like cj braxton or jensen!), alot of sam internal monologue. banner || gif

It all started one night when Dean arrived at his and Jess’ apartment, out of nowhere, and tried to bring him back into hunting because of their dad’s prolonged disappearance. Sam’s mind was already a jumbled mess because of his interview on Monday; his brother’s appearance and his attempt to make him leave Stanford were the last things he needed. He can’t just leave the life he’s been building on his own—at first, at least, now he had his friends, his Jess— and Sam wasn’t willing to let it crumble down for the man that had shut him out of his own family.

He was quick to reject Dean, not even when he used his brotherly tone on him.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” Dean said with a scowl. “Didn’t you hear what I said? Dad is—”

“I heard you, Dean.” Sam crossed his arms, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “And I meant what I said. This isn’t the first time Dad didn’t come when he said will.” He felt for Dean; he really did. If he were to have come sooner, before everything, Sam would’ve said yes. The guilt Sam had instilled in himself for leaving Dean weighed on his shoulders, but that wasn’t enough.

His brother’s frown deepened when he didn’t respond, though Sam could see the visible disappointment and anger in the boy’s eyes. The silence thickened the tension between them and deafened him—he swore he could hear Jess’ breathing in the other room.

Dean turned his head away from Sam, and with his jaw clenched in the same way he does whenever he wants to say something but refuses to. Sam, even with the little time he spent with Dean as a teenager, was able to pick up the facial expressions and unsaid words his brother would use when their dad was around.

“Fine.” It’s not fine. “I’ll go look for him myself, with or without you.” He meant that, actually. “Enjoy your little university, Sammy.” Go fuck yourself.

Sam suppressed a sigh as Dean left, who made sure to slam the door on his way out.

“That went well.” Jess was already behind him as she spoke. “He looked exactly as you described him; rugged and, I quote, like a ticking time bomb.” Her arms circled around his torso, managing to intertwine their fingers together. Sam remained quiet as he looked at the closed door.

He didn’t expect Dean to take his rejection so hard. Sam knew his brother was more than capable on fighting a house full of ghosts on his own, let alone finding a human being. Why did he need his help anyway?

Sam sighed, squeezing Jess’s hands. “It’s something you’ll need to get used to.” He turned around to plant a quick peck on the girl’s head, leading them back to their shared bedroom.

“I’m guessing this is a family matter you’re not going to share with me?” She asked as soon as she got on the bed.

“Jess...”

She smiled at him, though the corner of her lips didn’t exactly reach her eyes, and took his hand. Sam lets her gently pull him down beside her on the mattress, their feet planted on the wooden floorboards.

“I’m not going to pester you for it. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but judging from what I’ve heard, you guys have a lot to talk about with each other, not your girlfriend.”

“Tell me about it,” Sam agreed, running his fingers on his hair. “but I have a lot on my plate right now. I can’t just- you know, leave.”

Jess nodded, her expression never changing from her soft gaze. “Unfortunately, I can’t tell you about it, since you don’t give me much detail about it.” Sam looked like he was about to be say her name again in that same tired voice whenever they would talk about his family. “But I know where you can. Anonymously, so you could tell all the details without trouble.”

He groaned, letting himself fall horizontally on the bed. Sam knew exactly what she was talking about. It’s been what his friends have been doing since the announcement from the school board. It was some sort of collaboration between neighboring schools— Stanford created a teenage helpline specifically for the university close to them, and vice versa. Some students confided in the helpline since the counselors weren’t from their university, but Sam had refused to give in.

It felt stupid to spill all your secrets and personal problems to another person, who’s most likely the same age as him, and expect to get the answers he needed. Sam had to point out that the helpline was used for normal problems, but that wasn’t something he could say to his friends, who continued to force him into dialing them.

“Jess, c’mon, I highly doubt a student can fix my problem with just one phone call.” Sam dismissed the idea entirely, but Jess seemed to be persistent with it, anyway. She lay on his chest, letting Sam’s hand twirl with the ends of her hair.

“Who said about fixing? or that it’s just one phone call?” Jess adjusted her position on the bed, letting her legs rest on Sam’s. “Sometimes, a person just has to talk to someone to help them feel better. Obviously the counselor won’t fix your family’s situation, but they could probably help you from exploding the pretty head of yours.”

Sam glanced at Jess, and from the tired tone in her voice when she spoke up, it didn’t surprise him to see her already fast asleep on top of him. He smiled for the first time in a while after Dean appeared, and the cogs in his head began spinning. For as long as he could remember, ever since he began studying at Stanford, Sam had nights where he’d talk to himself in his head. Sometimes, it would be about a test he needed to take the next morning— a topic he could easily make conversation with— but it’s usually about his family, more specifically his brother, Dean.

Especially during his first week, Sam found himself sleeping in a place that wasn’t a dingy motel with a roommate who wasn’t his brother. Sam wondered at night what Dean would be doing, knowing sleep was the last thing on the list. Then he would feel his chest tighten— the one thing his dad didn’t want his sons to have was fear. As much as he believed in Dean and the remaining fatherly instincts their dad had, Sam couldn’t shake off the feeling of guilt for every possible injury his brother had or would have because he wasn’t there to back him up. The thought of the older brother, whom he viewed as the strongest person he knew (despite his lack of saying so), all bruised and battered, cornered by monsters no person should be laying their eyes on in the first place, clawed onto Sam the whole night.

And the worst part of it all was that he had nothing to prove himself otherwise, leaving him chained to his own guilt.

Sam closed his eyes, his migraine coming just in time. If monsters weren’t going to kill him, he was sure it would be himself who would do so.

—-

The next morning, as soon as he got his first vacant time in between classes, Sam had to excuse himself from his friends, including Jess, who exactly knew the reason why he needed to go back to the apartment. It was a now-or-never situation, Sam believed. He gave Jess a chaste kiss before leaving. “I’ll see you later.”

“See you,” she answered, though he was already a few steps away to hear it.

Sam entered the small home, leaving his bag on the couch, and grabbed the telephone from the bedroom. He was already pressing against the buttons before he registered what he was about to do. When it rang, Sam immediately began to think about what he was going to say.

It was an anonymous call, but surely he doesn’t have to be fully honest, right?

Even if Sam had never talked about his former profession to other people, he knew ghost hunting wasn’t exactly a well-received topic.

“Help line. This is Y/N.”

Sam held his breath for some reason, scared that even the pattern of his breathing could easily be an indicator of who he was. His leg nervously shook below him, still unable to say a word into the mouthpiece. A few seconds passed, and he heard your voice again; this time he could clearly hear your voice against his ear. Sam assumed you got closer to the phone.

“I could hear something shaking from your end, if I’m not mistaken. That’s either your hands trembling on the phone, your legs shaking against the floor, or it’s something else causing it.” His eyes widened at your observation just by what you’re hearing. This caused him to voluntarily stop his leg, embarrassed by his action.

“I guess it was you.” Your tone remained careful, though Sam had no idea why. “If there’s anything keeping you from talking freely, press on any of the buttons, please.” The boy finally registered your sudden change of mood— you were worried for him. It started to make him wonder what type of phone calls you receive every day.

“There’s nothing. I’m alone.” Sam leaned against the couch with a sigh. “Just nerves, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. A lot of first-time callers feel the same way.” You reassured him. He was glad your voice sounded much calmer.

“You can track those?”

“I mean, yeah, since you guys are anonymous, it’s the only way we can keep up with regulars.”

In truth, Sam fully expected a whole spiel from you. Like a robot scripted into saying whatever’s appropriate for the caller, he wasn’t fully prepared for your laid-back tone and casual words, as if the two of you were just friends talking.

“So, anything troubling you today? or in general?” He didn’t realize he’d been quiet for a whole minute. Again, he was surprised by the amount of patience you’re giving him.

“Oh, uh, yeah, yes.” Sam coughed into his fist at how awkward he sounded. “You guys don’t usually get family problems, don’t you?” He would assume so, seeing as both Help lines were created a few months before Midterms.

Sam heard a quiet chuckle from you. “We do, actually. A lot of Stanford students seemed to hate their parents more than we thought they would.” He doesn’t exactly fall far from them, Sam thought to himself.

“But we try our best not to fuel them. The Help Line is exactly what it is; we help, but only to a certain degree.” You continued, your voice full of the most sincerity he’s ever heard from someone. He could tell you were quite fond of what you do.

“I bet a lot of your callers were glad they decided to call you guys.”

“Maybe,” You paused for a moment. “are you?”

The change of topic caught him off guard. Sam didn’t exactly plan to keep the conversation going about you and Help Line; talking with you made him forget why he called in the first place. To catch that as well— you were really good of a counselor.

Sam nodded and realized what he just did before answering your question. “Yes, I am,” he couldn’t help the smile forming on his face. “this is probably the most like-able conversation I had over the phone.”

You hummed as you listened. “Unlike-able people calling you often?”

"Not really, now. I did have a bit of an argument with my brother in real life last night. I didn’t like how it ended.” Sam’s words came out almost naturally, unaware of how open he’s currently being. You had that sense of familiarity in Sam’s head already, despite how little time has passed since the two of you spoke.

“Tell me about it.” And he knew you meant it, so he did.

Sam gave all the details of what happened last night with Dean, though he had to keep him under the alias of ‘Older Brother’ for his sake. He told you about his relationship with their dad and with Dean, how he was never the son he wanted him to be, which resulted in him leaving for good and his small journey to Stanford.

He was still weighing his decision to be completely honest with you, and he told you that as well.

“That’s totally up to you, really. If those details aren’t needed for what you need help with, then you don’t have to.” You responded, being the ever-understanding angel Sam was learning you were.

“I’m not really looking for fixing, if that’s what you’re thinking of helping me,” he recalled Jess’ words from last night. “I don’t like talking about these things with my friends or my girlfriend because they shouldn’t be burdened by my messed up life.”

You were quiet on the other line, except for the barely audible breathing that told him you didn’t hang up on him. Sam wasn’t expecting an immediate response; you needed just the amount of time to think of one, just like any other person in a normal conversation would.

“I’m all ears, then. I can’t imagine having to handle all that by yourself. This call isn’t just for fixing, I assure you; sometimes people just need to let out some steam to help them think, y’know?”

“That’s true,” Sam agreed with a sigh. “I make a bunch of wrong decisions when I’m all worked up.”

“Like saying no to your brother?”

Sam’s lips thinned into a straight line, as if he were a deer caught in headlights. His silence seemed to have made you continue speaking.

“Hey, like I said, I’m all ears, but questions are meant to happen when you’re listening,” you said, your voice lighter than before, as if you’re trying to bring back the friendly mood.

Sam smiled as you did, scratching the back of his neck. “I get it, yeah,” he said, tapping on the back of the phone with his finger, thinking about your question. “my mind was a bit out of it last night, not to mention the—”

Pausing on his words, Sam managed to catch himself from mentioning how Dean greeted him that night. He didn’t think that was information you needed anyway.

“Never mind. What I’m trying to say is, yes, maybe my answer was a bit of a ‘heat of the moment’ thing,” Sam confessed. To you or to himself?

“I’m glad you finally managed to catch up with yourself.” Your voice was filled with humor, a teasing tone that somehow made Sam’s heavy chest a little bit lighter as he playfully scoffed.

“Is it allowed for counselors to make fun of their callers?” He challenged, but had no intention whatsoever. The chuckle from your end made him grin.

“Only if it’s needed in the process.”

“Let’s agree to disagree.”

The banter ended with the two of you laughing at each other, though Sam was laughing at himself a little bit. He knew Help Lines existed for a reason, but Sam doubted he’d get this much help if another person who wasn’t you had picked up his call in the first place. You were a good person in a good job that fitted you.

Sam’s mind was a bit clearer for now, definitely better than usual, and he wanted to fix his mistakes as soon as possible.

He was the first one to break the comfortable silence. “Thank you, by the way.”

“There’s no need for thanks,” You seemed to be genuinely pleased at it, though. “the best way you can thank me is if you feel better than before.”

“I do. After this call, I’ll probably start looking for my brother, if I can find a way.”

“Of course, you will. I can’t exactly help with that, but if you need me in ways that I can, feel free to call back next week.” Sam smiled at the offer. He wouldn’t mind that at all.

“How would I know it’s you I’m calling?” He asked.

“My shift starts at three pm and ends at eight. If you don’t get me, you’re allowed to switch counselors. Just look for the charming employee named Y/N and they’ll direct you to me.”

“I think saying your name would be just fine,” Sam chuckled as he heard your whispered protest. “okay, okay, I’ll ask the charming employee named Y/N when I call again.”

Your switch of moods made him shake his head. “That’s the spirit! You promise?”

“The name or the call?” Sam teased.

“Preferably both, but mostly the call part.”

“Yes, yeah, I will. I’ll update you on what happens.”

“Oh, gossip!” You faked a gasp, making you laugh at your own jokes as well Sam. “I’m so glad this isn’t a recorded line.”

[itsthesinbin]

Sins in Stardust [Chapter 5: Business of Mystery] (Bill Cipher/Reader/Stanford Pines)

Warnings: Bill being weird with his eye, mentions of previous abuse

Also I did decide that this is gonna be a polycule, so Ford's getting added in here. As much as I love Stan, I'd rather put him by himself than throw him into THIS mess. He'll show up later, though!

Feedback appreciated :3

Read the fic on AO3 here!

If you like it, reblog it!

------------------------

You found yourself out in the woods, the stars twinkling above you as you walked. A firepit in the distance was your only point of reference. You felt eyes on your back, but couldn’t bring yourself to look behind you. You were too determined to make it to the fire. Your dad only lit it when he wanted s’mores. You didn’t want the old fart to eat all the chocolate before you got there.

You stepped onto the little cobblestone path to the cabin your family rented every summer. You heard a buzzing noise around you, but there were always flies and mosquitoes out this time of year. You didn’t think anything of it as you made your way toward your parents. Your dad was making a double chocolate s’more, while your mom was getting out another pack of graham crackers. They talked happily, but you couldn’t make any of the words out.

A few flecks of ashes landed on your face, much akin to snow. You wiped the ash from your face, only to realize more was falling. Your parents froze in place, their faces distorted. The static noise grew louder as you looked up.

The stars burned bright. You faintly heard screaming in the static, but couldn’t look away.

You took a sharp inhale as you woke up. You sat up quickly, your body wracked with faint trembles. Your phone’s alarm buzzed and, with shaking hands, you turned it off. 10 am- you had wanted to sleep in a little bit before having to deal with your car problem. Among other problems. At least you had a couple days of rest, since you had to wait for the weekend to pass before you could call your insurance company.

Speaking of other problems, you looked over to the bench under the window. Bill had gotten that spot when you refused to let him have the entire bed, after an argument about “WHAT IF I GET KIDNAPPED AGAIN”. You two were given a different room, no longer facing the woods, so less likely to be a round 2. You had to dig out one of your spare blankets for him, but he seemed content on the window seat once you assured him the gnomes wouldn’t come back. He did when you went to bed, at least.

Bill was sitting up, staring out the window. You could see his expression in the reflection. He had a thousand yard unblinking stare, completely unaware that you were awake and watching him. The blanket was gripped in his fists. Were he human, you didn’t doubt the knuckles would be changing color. You swallowed, throat feeling tight and chest heavy. You knew that look well. You found it in the mirror often.

“Bill, you feel like breakfast?” You decided not to bring it up right now. You barely knew the guy, and doubted he’d be willing to open up even if you did know him. He jolted, seemingly having forgotten you existed. The mask was back on in an instant. He threw the blanket off like he had just woken up, stretching and yawning loudly.

“I could eat,” he said as he hopped down. You grabbed your hot plate and a pan. You had bought some actual groceries to keep in the mini fridge, not wanting to order food every day while here. You didn’t know if you were allowed to cook in the room, but what the owners didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. 

Bacon and eggs sounded good. The room had a coffee maker included so you got that going, too. Didn’t know if this guy needed coffee, but you weren’t gonna be rude. You pulled the food out of the mini fridge, asking how he wanted his eggs. Sunny side up. You wish you had a triangle mold to cook the eggs in. You didn’t know if Bill would’ve found it funny, but you would have.

“I gotta call some people about my car. After that, we can figure out something about your… friends, I guess,” you told him as you grabbed your phone. He groaned, clearly thinking your business was an inconvenience to him. You chose to ignore that and called your insurance company. You gave Bill his coffee and plate as you argued back and forth with your agent. Bill was watching the show, occasionally laughing or calling your agent a little bitch. You had to admit, the peanut gallery did make you feel not AS angry during the call.

Ultimately, there was nothing to be done about the car. You opted to look for a place to scrap it- maybe you could get money for the parts that were salvageable. You sat down with your plate and coffee, rubbing your forehead. Bill whistled.

“Sucks about your ride, kid! Once I liberate this place, I’ll get you a sick ass motorcycle. One of the fancy ones that runs off of human blood and fear!” You sighed.

“Thanks, Bill,” you replied humorlessly. A motorcycle did sound cool, though. Not the blood and fear part, but maybe you could get a motorcycle. You always wanted one. You were never allowed something so reckless, though. You shook your head, eating your food. You didn’t wanna think about what you weren’t allowed to do, before you got out here.

“About your friends,” you started after you were halfway through your breakfast. You had a few sips of coffee, and some time to wind down after the call, so you felt like you could tackle the main issue. Bill rose his brow, taking another drink of coffee through his silly straw. He didn’t bother turning his eye into a mouth this time, simply shoving the end of the straw into the corner of his eye. You had to turn away for that, and he laughed in response.

“Did you remember anything that could help us find them? Anything at all?” Bill gave you a groan that answered the question. Clearly not. He set his cup down and dropped his face onto the table. You frowned a little. Poor guy.

“How about something fun, instead? Maybe while we’re out, we’ll find some clues that’ll jog your memory,” you offered. At the idea of fun, he perked up a bit. He put his hands on the table as he stood. It had been a couple days since the gnome incident, so you felt it was safe enough to try and get out for a while.

“Can we go rob the liquor store?” he asked, as if he was a kid asking to go to the candy shop. You stared at him, brows raised in disbelief. Your expression must’ve said it all, because he sat back down with an exaggerated groan. You rolled your eyes, a slight smile on your face.

“No burglary until we’ve at least been friends for a week, Cipher,” you joked as you pulled your phone out again. You looked up fun things to do in Gravity Falls, missing the way Bill’s expression changed at the word “friend”. A mix between disgust and confusion. He mumbled something you didn't bother paying attention to as you scrolled through tourist trap after tourist trap.

Bill came around to look over your shoulder. You tilted the screen to let him get a better view. You both passed on mini golf and the history museum. Mini golf could be fun, but after yesterday you didn’t wanna spend the entire day outside. Then you scrolled further, to the lesser-rated stuff.

“UGH this is taking too long! Why do humans gotta PLAN everything?” He groaned, flopping back onto the bed. You stared at your phone but didn’t register what you were looking at. This guy was a baby.

“I gotta plan in case something goes wrong or you don’t like it.” The response came out without you thinking. Bill scoffed.

“Who gives a shit? If we don’t like something, we’ll leave and do something else! Easy. You already did it once!” You paused. You were used to having to meticulously plan events by yourself, while having to worry about another’s reactions. He was right. You could just Go out and do things. If you didn’t like it, you could leave. You already did that once, in a more serious way. You felt sick.

“Yeah… Yeah, alright.” You put your phone away. Bill looked up, giddy, as you went to go get dressed. It clicked that he was going outside and jumped up. He put on his, admittedly terrible, disguise. He bounced on his heels as he waited, but thankfully you came out quick. You wanted to go before you lost your nerve.

You two exited the hotel. As usual, Bill got a few stares. Seemed like no one really bothered to look too closely, though. Or if they did, no one said anything. Good thing, cause lord knows you’d have no idea what to say.

You two wandered the town for a while, sticking bill to your side closer to buildings so he was less likely to be seen. Billboards and signs for various businesses stuck out. The mini-golf course still caught your eye, as did the McGucket Technological Museum. But something caught Bill’s attention along the walk.

He jogged a little bit ahead, making you follow suit. A shabby sign for a tourist trap called the “Mystery Shack” was Bill’s goal. It looked old, and had paint chipping from it. It barely had any info about the shack itself, besides an address. You looked up the address on your GPS. Bill still hadn’t said anything.

Then his fist went through the sign, where the building itself was painted on. You jumped, nearly dropping your phone in surprise. His shoulders heaved, other fist so tight it was trembling at his side. You took a step toward him and he whipped around with a wild look in his eye. Your blood ran cold and you froze in your spot. Despite you having a good couple feet on him, you felt miniscule under his gaze. Like an insect he was about to crush under his foot. You were back in your apartment at that moment, ready to dodge whatever item was about to be thrown at your head.

“Man, pain isn’t as fun when it’s your body!” You both were back on the street. Bill shook his hand, kinda laughing even though you could see the cringe of pain through it. You stared at him, heart hammering in your chest, as he turned to follow the sign’s directions.

“Let’s go see what humans consider a “mystery”! It’ll be funny- bet it’s just an old skull or something. I’ll show you a REAL mystery, when I get my powers back!” He walked a bit, before looking back to see if you were following. He didn’t address his outburst beyond the mention of being in pain. You took a slightly shaky breath, before moving to catch up. You pulled a bit ahead, leading him off since you had the GPS. You decided to keep quiet, with Bill yapping about random bullshit the entire trip.

“- and THEN I said it wasn’t MY fault he didn’t specify he needed a HUMAN heart. How was I supposed to know that a donkey heart wasn’t “compatible” with human anatomy?” You heaved out a sigh of both annoyance and relief as the Mystery Shack came into view. It was a bit of a hike out of town, but the path was nice.

A hidden cabin out among huge pine trees. Multiple old signposts either shaped like arrows or had arrows and question marks painted onto them. A few people flitted around the giftshop, or headed back to their cars. Man you missed your car.

“Dunno if they’re still doing tours right now.” Bill blinked at the sound of your voice. You hadn’t talked this whole time. Bill had definitely noticed your mood, and constant glances over at him whenever he got a little loud or animated during his stories.

“But maybe we can get a stupid souvenir,” you said with a little smile on your lips. Bill could live with that. Maybe there was a funny hat in there!

You two stepped into the tight gift shop, dodging an overly-flirty couple exiting the building at the same time. You and Bill looked at each other, grossed out, before moving to look around. Bill gravitated toward the little replica statuettes of displays that the shack supposedly had.

“Wow, these look like shit,” he laughed. You shook your head and decided to look at the novelty tees. You pulled out a few, deciding if it was worth the ridiculous price tag, when you heard footsteps approach you.

“Welcome to the Mystery Shack, dude! You new in town?” You looked up at the tall man standing near you. He was big, with a bit of stubble and front teeth that stuck out a little more than they should. He was dressed in a suit, with an eyepatch and a red fez on his head. He just beamed at you, excited to have a new customer. You nodded, telling him your name and shaking his hand when he stuck it out.

“You can call me Mister Mystery- or Soos. I usually answer to Soos, though,” he laughed. You smiled slightly. This guy seemed nice enough, despite the theft he was pulling with the merchandise prices.

“So, you own the place?” You leaned against the wall near the novelty shirts. He waved his hand in a ‘kinda-sorta’ way.

“Not really but kinda. Basically I run the place now, but my boss and his brother own the building. I just keep it runnin’,” he answered. You nodded in understanding. You subtly put the overpriced shirt back on the rack while he talked about the shack. You heard small feet trot over to you.

“Look at this thing, kid! Some idiot just hot glued a chicken’s head to a squirrel!” You and Soos looked down, seeing Bill holding exactly what it sounded like- a taxidermied squirrel with a chicken’s head. You snorted a little bit at the sight of it.

Soos froze, looking between you and Bill. Bill stared up at him and you felt a knot in your stomach. You could see the recognition- and fear- in his eyes. Bill, however, was unfazed.

“How much for this thing, fatso?” “Bill!” “What?” That seemed to knock Soos back to reality. He stepped back, fear in his eyes, as he turned to the redhead at the checkout counter who was dozing off between customers.

“WENDY! WE GOT A CODE DORITO! FLAMIN’ HOT!!!” She was alert instantly.

[she-wolf09231982]

Chapter 1-Wicked Witch of the West

Summary: You're practically family to the Winchesters and their surrogate father, Bobby Singer. So when Bobby lets it accidentally slip that you're a witch to Sam and Dean, a whole soap opera occurs.

Author Note: Character introduction, SupernaturalxFemale reader, Y/N, Alcohol consumption, Movie/TV show references, Witch, Witchcraft, Covens, Death of family members

Pre Castiel, Pre 6 Seals, Pre Crowly, Pre Lucifer

Story takes place during Seasons 1-2

~~~~~~~~

You’ve grown up with the Winchester family. John and Mary Winchester were always the parents you never knew. You’ve been raised most of your life by your grandmother after your parents died from a fatal car accident when you were only three in a half years old. Since then, you lived with your grandma. After she passed away and left you her cabin in one of the more rural areas of Wichita, you did ok making it through life alongside the Winchester brothers, Dean and Sam.

After the incident with the yellow eyed demon that claimed Mary’s life, spinning John into a dimension of vengeance and mania, he dragged Dean, Sam, and eventually you all around the United States hunting for the entity that murdered his wife. Sam having only been an infant when this happened didn’t know his mother as well as you and Dean did. You remember Mary fondly, and respected John without question.

You shared a special bond with Dean and Sam’s parents because they were fully aware that you came from a long blood line of witches. The Winchester boys, however, did not know. Due to Mary’s family being a family of ‘Hunters’ of the supernatural, she befriended your grandmother and several witch covens also building a rapport with the hunting community. Your grandma often counseled hunters and helped prevent many deaths amongst them while searching for paranormal threats. 

Your grandmother having been a Priestess of an ancient coven since early adulthood, she educated you on the most sophisticated crafts while she was alive. After Mary was killed by the demon, John saw you to be a valuable resource, and brought you along for the hunt of the creature along with Sam and Dean as he desperately sought to avenge Mary.

As the years passed, the three of you growing into young adults, Sam went off to college not before getting into a heated argument with his father, John, about leaving the ‘family business.’ You and Dean, on the other hand, remained at John’s side until one day, John went on a hunt alone, and didn’t return. Against your better counsel, Dean traveled to Stanford University to rope Sam back into the hunting game to help find their dad. Sam refused to help at first, until his steady girlfriend, Jessica, met the same demise as his mother, Mary, filling Sam with that familiar rage as his father. Sam decided to leave school to search for his father with you and Dean, and from there, the rest is history.

The three of you having bested the Croatoan Virus, hellhounds, the super demon Lilith, The Apocalypse, The Four Horsemen, The Archangel revolt, vampires, wicked witches, Leviathans, zombies, demon possessions, hexes, curses, and evil spirits. Not to mention each of you dying and making deals with demons about a hundred times between the three of you.

After about a collective twenty-four years of hunting shenanigans with the Winchesters, their family friend and veteran hunter, Bobby Singer, let it slip you were a witch to Sam and Dean. Not too long after John Winchester’s untimely death in 2006.

“What did you just say?” Dean dared Bobby to repeat.

Bobby rolled his eyes at Dean. “Look, don’t get your panties all in a twist, Dean. Your father brought Y/N along on hunts because he knew she could help. He figured it would be best you two didn’t know because you were little tots together and didn’t want to spoil that bond.” Bobby explained.

“Yeah, well a lot of good that did.” Dean shot back.

“Dean,” Sam spoke up, “maybe dad had a good reason- “

“Oh, now you want to defend dad’s life choices? When all you ever did was question and resent the man?” Dean interrupted.

Sam continued, “All I’m saying, Dean, is that mom had her reasons keeping it a secret, so dad was just honoring her choice.”

Dean scoffed sarcastically.

You walked back into the room after unloading the Impala. They all turned to face you. You stopped in your tracks awkwardly.

“Um, everything ok, guys?” You asked.

“Yeah, everything except that you’re the ‘Wicked Witch of the West.’” Dean barked.

You hung your head with a sigh of defeat. Sam rolled his eyes and looked at Dean with his teeth clenched.

“Dean…” Bobby scolded harshly.

“What, Bobby? Am I just supposed to pretend like she didn’t lie to us this whole time? That she had every opportunity to tell us the truth and decided not to?” Dean went on not taking his resentful stare off you.

Dean never felt a deeper sense of betrayal. It was already difficult for him to trust anyone, let alone having trust someone who was a close and dear friend to the Winchester family.

Was he and Sam not approachable? Hell, even Bobby knew. Why wouldn’t dad tell them about what you really were?

Dean had so many questions swirling in his head.

“Dean?” Sam broke the silence in the room.

Dean shook his head and looked at his little brother.

“I need a drink. I need drinks.” Dean finally responded, stomping out the front door of Bobby’s house.

You finally look up at Sam. He met your gaze with an apologetic expression.

“Sam…I’m sorry.” You whispered.

Sam tilted his head at you compassionately, at a complete loss for words, then walked out of the room after his brother not before placing a comforting squeeze on your shoulder as he passed you.

You sighed loudly massaging your eyelids with your fingers attempting to tame the headache this soap opera just created.

Bobby walked over to you and pat you on the back.

“Don’t you worry about Dean, Y/N. He’s thrown his fits with Sam for lesser things. He’ll get over it.” He assured.

“I don’t know, Bobby. For Dean to find out he was deceived into working with someone who is the exact thing he hunts? He’s really big on trust and of course he’s going to forgive Sam. I’m not his brother, Bobby.” You argued.

Bobby shook his head smirking, “Trust me, he’ll get past this. You may not be his brother, but you sure as hell are an object of his affection.” He hinted.

You snapped a look of confusion at him. “Excuse me?” You managed to ask.

Bobby chuckled at you.

“Just give the man his time to process what he just found out. He’ll come around.” He reassured.

You raise an eyebrow at him, skeptical at his vagueness, but nodded anyway. Bobby never steered you wrong, so you trust his sentiments on the Winchester brothers.

[thelastspeecher]

hi well maybe some prompts for baby ford umm

1 acting like a real toddler back when he was 4 with his foster family. he didnt want a bath and cried and screamed until he passed out with a sippy cup of milk

2 baby ford wanting to spend time with stan and not knowing what to say so he just asks him to tell him a story -could be fluff or angst where stan tells him about his 'dad'

3 the moment where stan realizes ford is his 'nephew' n ford is eh why not xd

4 and the moment where he says the truth

sorry if its too much xdq

I went with option #3. Hope you like it!

———————————————————————————————————–

              Like usual, Stanford Payne was sitting by himself at lunch, silently eating the sandwich his foster parents had packed him.  Stan couldn’t help but wonder why the kid always had a bag lunch, rather than get the cafeteria food.

              Sure, school food can be questionable sometimes, but this is a fancy private school.  Sometimes the stuff they serve here is better than the food my mom made when I was a kid.  Stan also wondered why the kid refused to sit with the other children during lunch.  In general, he seemed to be a loner.  Stan walked over to Stanford and sat down next to him.  Stanford looked at him, eyes big behind his thick, square-rimmed glasses.  The expression was so familiar, it made Stan’s heart ache.

              “Hey, Stan,” Stan said cheerfully.  Stanford looked at his sandwich.

              “Hi,” he mumbled.

              “I, uh, I had a coupla questions for you,” Stan said.  Stanford frowned at his sandwich, which Stan silently noted had the crusts cut off.

              “…Okay.”

              All right, Stan.  You got Shermie all suspicious asking him questions about Ford last night.  Gotta make sure it wasn’t a waste.  Stan quickly glanced around to make sure none of the other teachers supervising lunch were giving him odd looks for talking to Stanford.  All clear.  Time to get some answers.

              “So, I heard you’re from Oregon.  Is that right?” Stan asked.  Stanford set his sandwich down and began to pick at it morosely.

              “That’s where they found me,” he said quietly.

              Weird phrasing.  But he’s a weird kid.  I’ll just ignore it for now.

              “Where in Oregon?”

              “Gravity Falls.”

              That’s where Shermie said Ford was doing research.

              “What were you doing there?” Stan asked.  Immediately, he realized how poorly he had phrased the question.  He opened his mouth to try again, but before he could say anything, Stanford answered him.

              “Research.”

              “What kind of research?” Stan asked.  Stanford promptly turned his head to frown at him.

              “Scientific research,” Stanford said, like it was obvious.

              “Your mom and dad did scientific research in Gravity Falls?” Stan said.  “You must have pretty smart parents.”  Stanford paused.  His gaze roamed across Stan’s face.  After a moment, his brown eyes, already large, widened further.

              “…Yes,” Stanford replied.  “My, uh, my dad, specifically.”  Stan’s heartrate picked up.  “My dad, he was why we were there.  But, um, no- no mom.”

              “Your dad did the research?”

              “Yeah.  In the woods.”

              “What’s his name?” Stan prompted.  He winced.

              The kid’s five and hasn’t seen his dad since he was four.  He might not remember.

              “Same as mine,” Stanford said.  He looked back at his sandwich.  “Well.  First name.  Our last names are different.”

              “Why?” Stan asked curiously.  Stanford shrugged.  “You don’t know?”  Stanford shook his head.  “That’s okay.  So, your dad’s name is Stanford?”  Stanford nodded.

              “But- but people called him Ford.  I think.”

              “Do you remember his last name?” Stan asked.  After a moment, Stanford shook his head again.

              “No.  It sounded sort of like mine, though.”

              “Can you tell me anything else about him?”

              “Um.”  Stanford took a deep breath.  He placed his six-fingered hands on the table.  Once more, the sight made Stan’s heart hurt.  The moment he saw Stanford, he’d wondered why there was a kid who looked just like his twin in kindergarten.  But when he saw the twelve fingers, that was when the gears started turning in his mind.  “People say I look like him.”

              “Why?”

              “Because we just do,” Stanford mumbled.  “And- and he’s got, um-”

              “Extra fingers?” Stan asked.  Stanford nodded.  “It’s kinda cool.”  Stanford looked at Stan doubtfully.  “Being different from everyone else isn’t a bad thing, Stan.  It’s good.  It means you’re special.”

              “…I guess.”

              “If anyone tries to mess with you ‘cause of those extra fingers, come tell me right away.  I’ll handle it.”  Stan ruffled Stanford’s hair.  His fingers promptly got caught in the boy’s thick, brown curls, only further cementing his theory.

              That happened all the time when Ford and I were kids.

              “I’ve got experience handling meanies who don’t appreciate when someone is special,” Stan said firmly.  A small smile appeared on Stanford’s face.  Someone cleared their throat.  Stan looked over.  One of the other teachers supervising lunch, Mrs. Fields, was scowling at him.

              Time’s up.  Stan smiled at Stanford.

              “I’ll see you in gym, okay?” he said.

              “Okay, Mr. Pines,” Stanford said with a nod.  Stan got up and walked over to Mrs. Fields.

              “What is it, Lorraine?” he hissed.  Mrs. Fields crossed her arms.

              “I get that you’re concerned about Stan Payne.  It makes sense.  The poor thing’s been through a lot.  But you can’t slack off just to make sure one child is happy.”

              “I was just checking on him,” Stan snapped, still speaking in an undertone.  “He always sits alone and eats his sandwich.  I wanted to make sure he wasn’t dealing with bullies or something.”  The lie came easily.  Even though that wasn’t the true reason he wanted to talk to Stanford, it was something he’d worried about.

              “Bullies, in this school?” Mrs. Fields asked, sounding scandalized.  Stan glowered.

              “It’s more likely than you think.  Smart upper-class kids can be just as mean, if not meaner, than dumb lower-class kids.  I should know.  I was a dumb lower-class kid.  With Stan’s background, he might not want to tell people he’s being messed with.”

              “Hmph.”  Mrs. Fields looked away, her lips pursed into a thin, straight line.  “Fair enough.  But still, you can’t forgo your responsibilities in the future.”

              “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Stan said, waving a hand airily.  “I’ll go back to my post or whatever.  Just get off my back.”  Stan walked back to his spot near the doors to the cafeteria.  He glanced around, making sure none of the kids were goofing off, then focused on Stanford again.  Stanford had finished his sandwich and was slowly eating his baby carrots.

              There’s no way this kid isn’t Ford’s son.  Not with everything he told me.  He shouldn’t be with his foster family.  He should be with real family.  Like me or Shermie.  Stan sighed.  But how can I get him out of his foster home?  He glanced down at his hands.  His wedding ring glinted slightly in the fluorescent lights.  Maybe Angie would have an idea.  I’ll need to convince her first, though.  Stan grimaced.  And I’ll need to tell her about Ford.  She’s gonna be pissed I kept something so big from her.  Dammit, I knew not telling her about my twin was gonna come back to bite me in the ass.  Nothing I can do about it now, though.

              “Hey!” a child’s voice shouted.  Stan’s head whipped up.  A boy at a nearby table had thrown one of the meatballs from his meal at a different boy.  Stan headed over to resolve the situation before it turned into a full-blown food fight.

              Back to work.

[evermorehqs]

CATCHING MY BREATH, STARING OUT AN OPEN WINDOW

Jesús 'Soos' Ramirez is based on Soos from Gravity Falls. He is a 35 year old human, gift shop handyman, and uses he/him pronouns. He has no powers. Soos is portrayed by Roberto Urbina and he is open.

CATCHING MY DEATH, AND I COULDN’T BE SURE

Soos had a bit of a rough upbringing, but you would know it given the kind of person he is. His mother worked many hours at the Gravity Falls diner, doing everything she could to provide for her son. His father, on the other hand, disappeared as soon as he was born and ran away to New Orleans. Soos never got angry with his father for leaving. He would constantly send postcards telling him about his adventures, and always promised he would come visit soon. Soos held at hope that one day he would see his father again, until his twelfth birthday when his dad sent one final post card — informing Soos he would never be coming home. Even after all these years, Soos has never been able to get over his father abandoning him and even refuses to celebrate his birthday…. though, that day did put him in a position to get a job at the Mystery Shack, where he would work for Stanford Pines over a decade. Soos became one of Stan’s most loyal employees. He never missed a day of work, willing to do anything and everything Stan asked no matter how strange or unimportant it might have seemed. He cared deeply about the business and the Pines family. Soos became incredibly skilled in the art of fixing things, despite his clumsy and goofy nature, and never batted an eye when the Pines twins started coming for the summer and request his assistance on their adventures. He always wanted to be where the action was, and even though he wasn’t book smart, per se, Soos was one of the only ones to believe them about the weird things in town. He was a skeptic with an inquisitive and child-like nature, but it’s what made him such a good sidekick. His unwavering loyalty to the business in the family landed him Evermore when he agreed to accompany Stan when the twins went missing. He immediately settled right in alongside Stan, once again working for him at his new shop that Soos did most of the work repairing. Like he was in Gravity Falls, he is hyper aware of all the strange occurrences and happenings in Evermore… and he isn’t afraid to make sure everyone else in town also knows how weird everything is.

I HAD A FEELING SO PECULIAR

❀ Felix Mendez: Soos admires Felix a lot, and he absolutely loves comparing tools with him, getting his input on what kind of wood is best, talking about fixing things. Soos developed a passion for repair and handywork, and what better friend to have than a fellow fixer? ❀ Benjamin Fuller: Ben is a bit on the quieter side, but Soos doesn’t really mind. He likes showing off all his weird knick-knacks and interests to him and even when the other man doesn’t say much in response, which was often, Soos always liked to know that at least someone was listening. ❀ Paul Mbappe: There is nothing more that Soos loves more than kicking back and housing a pizza with Pumba. There is never any shame between the two of them in inhaling a whole pie, even though Pumba likes to order some… questionable toppings.

THAT THIS PAIN WOULD BE FOR EVERMORE

[soileddovesandotheradventurers]

The Morning After

Mandy woke just after six, she tried rolling over, but needed to pee badly, so she got up. After peeing and showering, she made coffee, checked her phone and texted her bestie to confirm breakfast at nine-thirty.

Sitting on her bed she took the money from her purse and counted it again, before folding one bill and putting it in her wallet. She feared using one hundred dollar bills as walking around money would draw too much attention, so she decided to use one for groceries, load a couple on to a debit card and deposit the rest in the bank.

Her Thursday was busy, besides breakfast and grocery shopping, she had a piano lesson to give in Tribeca and then come back for a guitar student at a studio on campus. After that she had a standing Thursday night gig at a piano bar on the upper west side.

Megan, her girlfriend was waiting for her when she arrived at the café. They hugged and found a sidewalk table and exchanged a few minutes of small talk, till her friend mischievously said, "I want to hear about last night, everything, and I do me everything," drawing out the everything for effect.

Mandy blushed, looked around and in a soft voice told of the events of the previous evening. What she wore, showing up at the King Cole Bar, Kevin standing her up, barking at Richard and how she decided she would fuck him before he asked. Leaving out the money discussion, she gave Megan a word for word rendition of the proposition, which both women giggled over. More in allusion than detail, Mandy described the sex and the events in his suite. "Is he married," Megan asked with a raised eyebrow. Mandy nodded affirmatively and Megan, said "Oh you slut," with a smile on her face, "a man your father's age and married."

Then, being serious, Megan asked if she would see him again. Mandy paused before answering looking out into the street and then lowering her eyes to avoid Megan's gaze, she whispered, "yes, I plan to if he calls."

On her way back to the apartment, Mandy stopped for a few groceries, some bread, fruits and vegetables, along with a chicken breast. After putting it away she noted the time and knew she needed to hurry if she was going to be on time for her lesson.

Her gig at the piano bar went well, the bar was crowed and a bit rowdy with a larger than normal crowd hanging around the piano and joining her in song. Tip wise, she had a good night taking home just over three hundred dollars, to which she added a Benjamin from her lingerie drawer.

During the subway ride home, alone with her thoughts, Mandy began ruminating about her financial situation. While in school, her parents had been paying her rent, but this summer Mandy decided to stay in NYC rather than go home to Philadelphia, as her parents expected/demanded and they refused to pay her rent for the summer. Mandy paid the rent, nearly twelve thousand dollars for the summer session, adding it to her student loan. But now they were threatening not to pay her rent during her final two semesters. If that were the case, she could own nearly two hundred, thousand dollars after graduation.

Since she was twelve, Mandy had been engaged in a intermittent rebellion with her parents who were very conservative and religious. They believed that daughters should live at home till they are married and that the parents should have a large say in choosing the husband. Unlike her sister, who simply nodded, said yes mom and dad and then did as she pleased. Mandy would argue and fight with them before doing as she pleased. Of course the rebellion had them watching her like a hawk and she got caught for more often than her sister.

Mostly she lost, not scoring a victory till it came time to choose a college. Her parents demanded that she choose a school in Philadelphia and live at home, her sister having chosen Penn. Mandy said no, she was going to either USC, Berkeley or Stanford. They told that they'd refuse to pay for it and Mandy said fine, then she wouldn't go to college, but would get a job after high school and move out. They relented, asking only that she choose a school in the northeast, which is how she ended up at NYU.

Home again, Mandy doffed her dress and bra, putting on long tee-shirt and after filling a tumbler with gin and tonic, she went up on the roof of her building and watched the city's lights.

Yes, she'd continue to see Richard as long as he was interested, hopefully, he consider keeping her as a mistress. If that ended she'd seek a different sugar daddy or even escort. Her gigging and teaching was enough for her expenses, except for housing and tuition, she knew she needed another, larger source of income. She thought of her Aunt Esme, now a successful and respected business woman that survived financially during her post college years, as a gentleman's companion, which is how she decribed herself. If Esme could do it, Mandy told herself that she could as well.

[bradycore]

okay, not to write a whole damn essay overanalyzing one line, but there’s a gifset going around and i made the mistake of looking at the notes, so here we go.

“my whole life you’ve protected me from dad”—said by sam to dean in s15—is an…interesting line. yes, dean protected sam from john. there were aspects of their childhood that dean kept from sam in order to protect him, and i’m sure john was involved in many of those. but at the same time, dean saw john as a good dad, he was horribly loyal to him, and in s1/2 and from what we know of the winchesters preseries, the majority of his disagreements with sam were over sam refusing to do something john wanted him to do, usually because the something was dangerous, or kept sam from making basic choices he had every right to make, or was indicative of john having a complete lack of respect for and trust in the boys. and dean always took john’s side.

dean’s biggest character arc s1-3 was arguably him overcoming his unconditional loyalty to john and becoming more aware that the way their father raised them wasn’t right. the first time we see him majorly disagreeing with john—specifically to protect sam, as well—is after john’s death when he refuses to ever kill sam, and that’s a huge step for him. it’s a huge step because he’s never done it before. and it’s the last time the winchester family dynamic is ever really engaged with in the show, so we don’t really see it again.

dean has not protected sam from john his whole life, or sam would not have had to run away from stanford and be cut off completely from dean and john in the process. the arguing between sam and john wouldn’t have most frequently ended with dean either telling sam to stop fighting or getting both of them to move on. the early seasons very intentionally established a pattern of dean siding with john against sam, and this informed both sam’s basic characterization and dean’s future character arcs.

but how this line was presented (and how it was taken by a lot of people, i think) was as sam coming around, finally realizing what he’d been in denial of or something. this is almost a parody of the early seasons establishing dean as the one who had to come around and realize a few things when it came to john (sam did too, but in a different way than dean, and it doesn’t negate dean’s own arc with it), and so it’s also a total denial of it. it does a disservice to the family dynamic that is so essential to dean’s character, to the struggles that sam went through under john, to dean’s character growth in s2/3. so it’s baffling to me that it could be seen as character growth on sam’s part and an affirmation of dean.

anyway. interesting line.

[rainbow-shine]

i'll never wear your broken crown, but in this twilight our choices seal our fate

An alternative s4 in where Dean has powers and that changes everything and nothing. Dedicated to @wormstacheangel and inspired by this headcanon.

It started with little things.

So little that Sam wouldn't have noticed them had it not been for the fact that he couldn't help but look at his brother like a hawk lately, partly to comfort himself that he had Dean back and partly to make sure his brother wouldn't find out about his extracurricular activities.

Dean doesn’t gets hurt anymore.

Sam felt his heart stop inside his chest when he entered the kitchen at Bobby's house and found Victor's ghost with his hand embedded in Dean's chest. With a swift movement Sam fired, the ghost disappeared and Dean fell to the ground.

Completely unharmed.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked either way. Dean gave him an unimpressed look before saying no.

The thing was, Sam had seen Olivia's corpse, had seen the corpses of the rest of the hunters. Right now Dean should be bleeding to death on the floor, his heart ripped from his chest, but instead he was just catching his breath like he'd just taken a good hit.

Sam, at that time, thought it was a fluke.

But it kept happening.

They had a dangerous job and the threat of the apocalypse only made the monsters worse, but Dean was always unharmed. Not a single mark stained his body and the times something or someone managed to hurt him, those wounds always disappeared in less than a day.

"You test him, right?" Sam whispered to Bobby, as soon as Dean went to buy something for dinner and Sam stayed with the excuse of researching something on a new book.

"Who?"

"Dean," Sam clarified. “After he was resurrected”.

"Of course I test him, Sam," Bobby hissed. “Do you think I'm stupid?”

"No, it's just…" Sam stopped speaking, realizing that his arguments at the moment would sound more like conspiracies. The fact that Dean was apparently untouchable wasn't exactly a bad thing.

"What?" Bobby asked sharply.

"Nothing," Sam replied, quickly coming up with an excuse. “It's just that I feel like there's something different about him”.

"Sam, your brother just came back from hell. Literal hell,” Bobby exclaimed slightly condescending. “His mind is trying to process a trauma that, as far as I know, no one has ever experienced. You can't expect him to be the same as before, because he won't be”.

"I know, Bobby."

"Then stop complaining".

So Sam stopped. After all, Dean was still Dean and the fact that nothing could hurt him was just one more reason for Sam to do everything he could so that nothing that could reach him.

•●•

The first time Dean went to sleep after being rescued from hell, in the uncomfortable but familiar couch in Bobby's house, he dreamed of a light.

A light so bright that he felt it might be able to melt his eyes out of his sockets, but at the same time it was warming a part of him that always seemed to be cold.

A light that was comforting and gentle. A light that meant love and salvation.

That night, in an abandoned barn in Illinois, Dean knew that he hadn't been dreaming at all.

•●•

When he was a kid and dad decided to start taking Dean on hunts, Sam used to kneel by his bedside and pray that god would keep his brother safe.

After Jess appeared nailed to the ceiling and their apartment was consumed by flames, Sam began to pray for forgiveness.

The day Dean was dragged to hell Sam stopped praying, because he knew that no one was listening to him.

But then Dean was saved. Dean was saved by an angel and Sam felt his faith restored. How he couldn’t have faith when an angel had achieved what he had been trying to do for months?

But apparently Sam Winchester couldn't have good things, because again his faith was destroyed and the angels, as Dean had said, were nothing more than dicks with wings.

The boy with the demon blood.

The curse Azazel left on him and the only chance they had to truly stop Lilith.

There was fear in Dean's eyes.

And that hurt so much more than anything the angels could have told him.

His powers were a curse, but he had stopped Samhain thanks to them. They may not have saved the seal, but an entire city was beginning their day with nothing to worry about thanks to them.

Sam was doing the right thing. He truly was.

It didn't matter that no one seemed to agree with him.

•●•

"Let me guess, you're here for the ‘I told you so’" Dean said, turning on the bench to look at the angel sitting next to him.

“No”.

“Well, good, cause I’m really not that interested”.

"I am not here to judge you, Dean." The angel's voice was surprisingly gentle and Dean tried to ignore the way the light from his halo suddenly looked alluring. Dean hadn't told anyone, not even Sam, what he could see.

Because Dean still wasn't entirely convinced that he hadn't gone crazy.

Big black wings curved slightly around both of them as they chatted and Dean, for a moment, stopped seeing Castiel, the righteous angel of the lord and only saw Cas, someone who looked as lost as Dean felt.

"I don't envy the weight that’s on your shoulders, Dean," Cas whispered. “I truly don’t”.

Then Cas leaned into him and Dean felt his mind short circuit for a second, because the angel clearly seemed to want a kiss. But no, Cas stopped an inch from touching his lips, simply watching him simultaneously with the blue eyes of his vessel and with the hundreds of curious eyes of his true form.

“What…?” Dean's question was interrupted by something coming from Cas' lips and colliding with his. Dean instinctively parted his lips and allowed Cas to give him whatever he wanted.

It wasn't liquid, but it wasn't a gas either. It was tasteless and Dean didn't feel it pass down his throat or vanish in his mouth. His heart raced and he felt… safe. Blessed.

As soon as it started it was over and by the time Dean managed to control his heartbeat, Cas had vanished and no one seemed to have witnessed what had happened.

•●•

Ruby didn't like Dean.

For many reasons, some more obvious or justifiable than others. But for the sake of the role Sam had to play, Ruby forced herself to cooperate with the older of the Winchesters.

But this was too much.

The mere presence of Dean made her feel like there were cockroaches crawling all over her body. His soul had taken on a new glow and Ruby didn't want to know what kind of things Dean was doing with his angel to have that kind of purity.

"I think there's something wrong with Dean," Sam confessed and Ruby could feel the fear making his voice shake or maybe the shaking came from the blood that was still running down her arm.

"What are you talking about?" Ruby asked sweetly, almost genuinely concerned. If it were up to her Dean would still be rotting in hell, but Sam was on his way of doing a miracle and Ruby felt that someone like that deserved all the happiness and satisfaction in the world. Even if it meant having to put up with Dean Winchester.

"He looks different," Sam said. "I think the angels are doing something to him. My brother would never have..."

"What?" Ruby prompted. "Would never have risked his life for an angel?"

"Well, no".

Ruby had a sudden epiphany that they weren't talking about Ana.

"Maybe the angels are… purifying him," Ruby suggested. "I mean, you know what he did when he was in hell".

The idea of ​​Dean, brave and kind Dean, torturing souls in hell and enjoying it was too funny to be true.

"It's something more than that".

"What do you think it is?"

"I don't know!"

Ruby thought that they had already wasted a lot of time talking about Dean, so she decided to silence Sam with a deep and dirty kiss, climbing onto his lap and thinking that heaven could purify Dean as much as they wanted, because she would see to it that Sam was more powerful than they could ever imagine.

•●•

The angels had taken his brother and Sam swore he was going to kill them as soon as he found them.

Wasn't it enough that they were manipulating and corrupting him, they also had to make him relive what happened in hell?

Dean had protected him from many things. Dean, his older brother, had taken it upon himself to give him a childhood that he never allowed himself to have. Dean had been in the front row of his school play. Dean had made him tomato rice soup whenever he got sick. Dean had put a wad of money and a cell phone in his bag when he had left for Stanford.

Dean had sold his soul to save him.

So now it was Sam's turn to save his older brother.

•●•

"For what it's worth," Cas murmured against his lips. Dean was shuddering with what could be fear or perhaps anticipation. "I would give anything not to have you do this".

•●•

Sam had killed Alistair and Dean was furious.

Hundreds of emotions were piling up in his mind and he wasn't able to understand how his brother could be so stupid to not see that his powers were changing him for the worse. Dean could feel that something was wrong with Sam and his little brother didn't seem to mind.

"I did it to save you!" Sam insisted, throwing his hands up as if Dean was going to lunge at him despite still being slightly dizzy from the hospital drugs. "I only used my powers to protect you when the angels couldn't!"

"Cas did the best he could."

"Really?" There was a note of hysteria in Sam's voice. "Are you going to defend him?"

"Sam..."

"He forced you to torture Alistair despite knowing what you did in hell!"

"He had no other choice!"

"He's using you!"

"But at least he has never lied to me!"

The lightbulb in the room exploded.

Both brothers froze and Dean could see that Sam was breathing heavily and refusing to meet his eyes.

"Sammy?"

"I'm going to get some air," was all Sam said before he practically ran out of the room.

Leaving Dean wondering if things between them would one day stop being so broken.

•●•

Dean's eyes glowed blue.

Angelic blue.

Sam had to save his brother before it was too late.

•●•

The first time Dean healed him, Sam felt like something inside him was burning.

It had been a hunt like any other. No seals threatening to break, no angels or demons. Just the two of them against an angry ghost, just like old times.

Except the ghost was really angry and by the time Dean managed to burn their bones, Sam had been thrown into several graves and several trees and he was sure the back of his head was bleeding.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, running up to him and gently laying him on the ground, with his head in his lap, examining the severity of the injury. Sam felt like a little kid again, feeling safe next to his big brother.

For a moment, there was no apocalypse or arguments. Just the warmth of his brother's body and gentle fingers running through his hair.

"Dean, I'm fine," Sam managed to say. "You know how much head injuries bleed. It's less serious than it seems".

"I know, Sammy".

And then Sam felt the soft strokes on his hair turn into flames and a gasp escaped from his throat. The pain lasted only a second and by the time Sam regained awareness of his surroundings, none of his injuries were still hurting.

"What did you do to me?" Sam hissed, pulling away from Dean and standing up quickly and nearly falling back to the ground from the wave of nausea that washed over him.

"I… I don't know." Dean looked as terrified as Sam felt. "I just wanted to make you feel better".

Dean wasn't normal anymore. Whatever the angels had done or were doing to him was changing his brother.

And Sam no longer knew if he could save him.

•●•

"What's happening to me, Cas?" Dean asked. Trying to convince himself that his little brother was safe and that even though Lilith had escaped, she at least hadn't made any deals with Sam.

"You're changing," was Cas' soft reply. "A metamorphosis, a revelation".

"Am I not human anymore?" Dean asked with his voice showing the terror he really felt.

"You're always going to be human, Dean," Cas reassured him. "Every saint, every messiah, was as human as you".

"I don't deserve this, Cas," Dean gasped, closing his eyes to avoid seeing Castiel, his wings and halo, his eyes and his light. He wasn’t worthy of witnessing the greatness of an angel, not this angel at least.

"Do you still think you don't deserve to be saved?" Cas whispered and Dean trembled slightly as he felt a warm hand gently touch his chin, forcing him to look up and open his eyes. Cas was looking at him so adoringly that Dean felt like he was going to combust in any minute. "Do you think you don't deserve to be loved?"

This is love? Dean almost asked, but instead he connected his lips to those of the angel in front of him and tried to ignore the way in which, for the first time since he had been dragged to hell, he felt pure.

•●•

Castiel couldn't keep doing this.

Heaven had lied to them. Castiel had delusionally believed that he was keeping Dean safe, that he was rendering him immune to demons, healing his wounds and protecting him from all danger.

When in reality Castiel had only been poisoning him.

Shame mingled with guilt within his grace. His wings were flapping as fast as they could, pulling him towards Dean. Trying to warn him about what heaven was planning. Trying to save him from the hell Castiel had condemned him to.

The angels found him first.

Castiel felt how his wings were imprisoned and how his entire being seemed to be consumed by the most absolute pain.

"Take him to Naomi," ordered one of his superiors. "Fix him as soon as possible".

The last thing Castiel felt was the bond he had begun to form with Dean being brutally ripped apart.

•●•

No demon could touch him and surprisingly that wasn't the strangest revelation Dean had that day.

No, the fact that the demon that tried to touch him in Jimmy Novak's house let out a scream of pain as he held onto his burned hand paled in comparison to everything else:

Seeing Sam, his baby brother, throw himself on a demon to drink her blood, broke his heart in a way that Dean couldn't even begin explain.

After that, seeing how Cas looked like his wings had been passed through a shredder while his true form's eyes seemed dull and unfocused only served to make his wounded heart surrender completely.

Dean was practically invincible, but right now, with the broken pieces of his heart trying to stick together, he felt more fragile than any glass.

•●•

Bobby wasn't having a good day.

No, that wasn't good enough, Bobby wasn't having a good life.

But this day was particularly bad.

No matter how much he wanted to ignore them, Bobby could still hear Sam's delirious screams. And to think that the boy who had entered his house years ago, hiding behind his older brother and observing everything with big eyes full of curiosity, was now going through a detoxification process for having consumed demon blood, was something that Bobby could hardly tolerate.

The fact that Dean was a mess didn't help much either.

Dean appeared to be a shadow, drowning in alcohol and carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Bobby wondered if there was something wrong with him too, for on more than one occasion the lights around him seemed to flicker and his eyes seemed to emit a strange light.

What had these two idjits gotten themselves into now?

•●•

Dean didn't know what else to do anymore.

"She's poison, Sam," Dean said, praying his brother saw reason. Sam just gave him a wry smile.

"What about Castiel?" Sam hissed and Dean instinctively took a step back. "Is he poison too, Dean?"

They had both lied to each other and here were the consequences.

"Cas is an angel," Dean replied. "He's just protecting me".

"What makes you different from me?" Sam asked. "Tell me, why are you allowed to be a freak and I'm not?"

"Sam that's not how things are..."

"Of course they are!" Sam yelled. "All my life I have been the freak of our family, I never fit in with you and dad, and I was ready to accept that I'm different from you, but it turns out that you are the same freak as me!"

"It's different and you know it, Sam," Dean tried to argue. "Cas never made me drink his blood, he never made me promises too good to be true, and he never made me addicted to anything".

"Why?" Sam asked, sounding exactly like the scared little kid who had believed that the monster under his bed was real. Dean felt his heart ache. "Why if we are both freaks I have to be the monster?"

"It's not too late, Sam," Dean pleaded. "We can still stop this. No angels and no demons, just you and me. Like before".

"I… I can't do that, Dean," Sam denied.

"Of course you can," Dean insisted, moving slowly toward Sam. "Say goodbye to Ruby, return with me to Bobby's house and we will find a way to end it all. I just want you to be okay, Sammy".

Sam's skin began to burn the moment Dean placed his hand on his arm.

No.

"Sammy?" Dean didn't recognize his own voice, he felt like his body had ceased to be his. A witness of his worst nightmares. A tear ran down his cheek. "Sammy, please".

The blow hurt less than the implications of what just happened.

•●•

It wasn't fair.

None of this was fair.

The place where Dean's hand had touched it still hurt. A reminder of what he had sacrificed for the greater good. A mockery of what he had lost by trying to be a hero.

But he couldn't stop, not now that he was so close to ending it all. Not when it was only a matter of hours before Lilith tried to break the final seal.

Ruby's presence was a comfort with the same intensity as a punishment, because Dean hadn't trusted him the way she did, but still Sam wanted the presence of his older brother.

That part of him that had believed for years that his older brother was a superhero right now wanted to run up to his brother and beg for forgiveness.

But Sam was no longer a child and his brother had made a decision.

It was time for Sam to made his, too.

•●•

The angels had kidnapped him. There was no other way to describe what they had done to him, but Dean had made a promise and he planned to keep it. So he stayed there and listened to what the angels told him.

But the moment Zacharias leaned toward him, his movements clinical and expressionless in a way Cas' had never been, Dean couldn't resist the urge to seal his lips, lower his gaze, and take several steps back.

"Dean," Zacharias sighed, as if Dean was a little kid who didn't want to eat his vegetables.

"No," Dean refused and before he could regret it he added. "I want Castiel to do it".

The expression on Cas' face was heartbroken.

"Very well," Zacharias agreed, before ordering Cas to come over to him.

With Cas' lips so close to his and with the warmth of what he now knew was grace enveloping his body, Dean wondered if Sam had been right and Cas had been poisoning him too.

Perhaps both of them had poisoned each other.

"You're almost ready," Zacharias marveled when Cas broke away from him. "Everything will go according to plan".

Dean wasn't so sure about that anymore.

•●•

"Sam," Ruby said, her dark eyes showing a panic Sam never remembered seeing. "Time is running out, are you going to do it or not?"

With Dean's voice telling him that he was a monster echoing in his head, Sam knew he really had no other choice.

•●•

"You know what's real?" Dean asked and didn't wait for an answer before grabbing the lapels of Cas' trenchcoat and slamming his lips against his.

Cas seemed to freeze for a moment before reciprocating the kiss with intensity. His black wings curved around both of them and Dean felt the heat of his halo brushing against his hair. Invisible hands caressed his skin and hundreds of eyes watched him adoringly.

"This is real," Dean gasped as they parted. "This, us, people, families— that's real. You're gonna watch them all burn, Cas?"

"What would you have me do, Dean?" Cas whispered. His wings trembling slightly.

"Get me to Sam," Dean said. "We can stop this before it's too late".

"I do that, we will all be hunted," Cas replied. "We'll all be killed".

"If there is anything worth dying for... this is it" was all Dean could say.

Dean barely had time to react before he was being pushed into one of the walls and kissed desperately. Dean raised his hands to tangle them in Cas' hair and parted his lips the moment he felt Cas' tongue touch his lower lip.

His body accepted Cas' grace with ease.

"We have to find Sam, we have to stop him from killing Lilith," Cas told him when they parted.

"Why?" Dean asked, feeling a little dizzy. "Lilith is going to break the final seal".

"Lilith is the final seal," Cas said. "She dies; the end begins".

•●•

Sam had never felt a power like this.

It was all about to end and he could finally have the life he deserved. His nightmare would end and everything Azazel had planned would be in vain. Sam would use the powers that hell had given him for good. He would use the demon blood that ran through his veins to prevent the apocalypse.

And maybe, when things finally ended, Sam could apologize to Dean and all of this would be nothing more than a bad memory.

Lilith was smiling and Sam was eager to erase that smile once and for all.

Finally, everything was about to end.

•●•

Castiel was committing treason.

He didn't even think twice before vanishing Zacharias and carrying Dean as quickly as his wings allowed him to the house of the prophet of the lord. It was the only chance they had to find Sam and stop the apocalypse before it started.

"You guys aren't supposed to be there," said the prophet, frowning. "You're not in this story".

"Yeah, well..." Castiel said. "We're making it up as we go".

Castiel then took a moment to look at Dean, his soul shining as bright as the sun and cradling his grace as if he never wanted to be without it. Castiel felt a wave of affection for the human he had rescued from hell, for the man who had kissed his lips like a lover.

He sensed the archangel's presence long before he appeared and Castiel knew that they had run out of time.

Regardless of whether the prophet was watching them, Castiel pulled Dean to share a heavy kiss. A kiss of regret for lost time. A goodbye kiss.

"I'll hold him off!" Castiel gasped against Dean's lips, allowing most of his grace to flow to him. If Castiel couldn't protect him, at least he would make sure his grace did. "I'll hold them all off! Just stop Sam!"

Dean connected their lips one last time.

"Good luck".

In the end, Dean had been right. This was something worth dying for.

•●•

He had been too late.

•●•

"I was the best of all those sons of bitches!" Ruby yelled, a maniacal smile curving her lips. "The most loyal!"

Sam had stopped listening to her, just staring in horror at what he had done.

This is not how things are supposed to be. This shouldn't have been the end of this. He had made a stupid mistake, he had been arrogant and he had been naive. Sam had only wanted to protect the world; he had only wanted to take some of the burden off his brother's shoulders.

Sam, for once in his life, had just wanted to do something right.

"You're too late," Ruby scoffed and Sam felt like he might start crying when he saw his big brother.

"I don't care," Dean hissed and Sam could only watch paralyzed as Dean placed his hand on Ruby's forehead and she started screaming, her eyes on fire and the demonic essence of her fading.

"I'm sorry," Sam sobbed. "I'm so sorry, Dean".

Dean couldn't even look him in the eye.

"We have to get out of here," was all Dean said. "Let's go, Sam".

"Dean," Sam gasped. "He's coming".

Dean ignored him, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the exit.

For the first time in months, Dean's touch was no longer uncomfortable.

•●•

The apocalypse had begun.

[thatabitcryptic]

Have the first chapter of the ficlet for the timestuck au :))

It’s about 1300 words

For context: Ford and Mabel have just convinced Fiddleford to help fix the time tape to get Mabel home. (This is set after fidds quit the project, Ford stumbled across Mabel on his way back from the diner- so everyone’s a bit of a mess but dad instincts kick in here yknow??)

———

Although the couch was much warmer in comparison to the frigidness of the basement, Mabel couldn’t help the cold pit that formed in her stomach. Things were starting to go in the right direction for getting back to her time but.. were they?

Ford and Mcgucket had been practically avoiding each other like the plague. Anytime either of them needed something from the other it was always Mabel who had to speak for them. Sure it made sense they were upset with each other but how could they possibly get her home if they didn’t even look at one another? Grunkle Ford refused to stop working in the basement so he could keep watch over the portal and Mcgucket’s terms of never having to enter it again.. how was she going to get them in the same room? They hated each other.

But then when she brought up the time tape why had Ford immediately jumped to needing Mcgucket’s help?? Ford was a smart guy, and not that she didn’t like the extra company but if her Grunkle had been so angry at his old friend why ask him?

And in the future when they had watched Mcgucket’s memories he didn’t sound mad at Ford, just that he had wanted to forget. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to hold grudges either. Well, future him at least.

The strange air between them wasn’t the only thing that was throwing her off though. The whole house was wrong. It didn’t have any semblance of a home; more of a very disorganised library.

The mystery shack had never been the tidiest place but even when she and Dipper had first arrived Grunkle Stan had the place in organised chaos. Everything had a place and each place made sense at least. Here it was sporadic with no order like Ford had stopped during the middle of something and started a new task leaving previous items cluttered amidst coffee cups and stacks of books.

It was wrong in so many ways and there were so many things she missed from home. Even the little things. The murmuring of tourists in the gift shop, the mouldy spots on the roof, the spur of a tool from wherever Soos was fixing something in the shack, the weird gross smell of Grunkle Stan, Dippers late night reading, Pacifica's sweet perfume, Waddles’ hooves clicking along the floor-

Tears welled in her eyes as she stared down at her blanket. What if she never saw them again? What if Grunkle Ford and Mcgucket were never able to get her back home? Would she have to grow up here? What if she never saw waddles again? His swishy little face, his curly tail that bounced when the toddled behind her-

And Dipper? Would the next time she saw him be when they were born?? Thirty years from now?

Mabel’s head spun; all this time travel made her nauseous. Her chest ached and her hands were hot from wringing them on the scratchy fabric. She couldn’t think straight. It was just the swirling thoughts of her fate in solitude. All she could hear was her rhythmic heartbeat pumping another reason to miss her time into the front of her mind.

Her sweater was too tight, her headband too sharp, her cheeks were itchy from the waves of drying and flowing tears-

“-lright there sweet pea?”

A soft southern drawl from her side snapped her back. Mcgucket.

She didn’t hesitate to launch herself towards the familiar tone and bury her face in his green jacket. It smelt like a strange mix of tobacco, grease and molasses but that was closer to home than the stale dusty air of her surroundings.

“Shh shh shhh shh, it’s okay sugar plum.” He ran a hand through her hair and softly untangled any knots. “Ya’ wanna tell me what’s the matter?”

Mabel’s mouth immediately burst open with bubbling incomprehensible sobs.

“I wanma go h-homemm, Dippmffft, grunkmplmh stamm,” she took a breath and looked up at him with blurred eyes, “m-my pett pig waddles and h-his face.” And then she pressed herself back into his side. Each breath she took shook her body but it was stifled by Fiddleford hugging her closer.

“Hmmmm, a pet pig huh?” He paused and tapped his fingers on her back in contemplation.

“Did future me ever tell ya’ tha’ I grew up on a hog farm?”

Mabel stopped for a moment to look up at him with a trembling lip. “N-no, I-I don’t think s-so?”

Mcgucket drew back with a faux sound of horror. “Well, I never! I can’t ‘lieve this feller’! Ya’ hav’ a pig and ‘e didn’t even offer some advice!”

Mabel smiled and rubbed her nose on her sleeve.

“Naw’ darlin’ here.” Fiddleford reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief for her.

“T-thank you.”

“It’s tha’ least I could do after withholdin’ my advice in the future, or is it before..” He chuckled and shifted to rest his chin on top of Mabel’s head. “I’ll have to remember to tell ya ‘bout it”

Mabel stiffened and wiped her eyes again but didn’t comment.

Maybe it was best not to ask her...

“Now waddles?” he hummed. “I gotta say Mabel that’s a mighty fine name for’ a pig I reckon. The little fellers do tend ta’ waddle about.”

“Y-yeah.” Her voice quivered in reply and she absentmindedly latched onto the sides of his jacket and pulled them in over herself. “He- I miss him.”

Fiddleford could feel Mabel beginning to shake again and he wracked his brain for something else to talk about. He may not have known her for very long but it was heart breaking for such a bubbly kid to be so disquieted.

“How does he fancy the banjo?”

“The banjo?” She turned and lifted her head to look up at him with big eyes and Mcgucket’s heart melted. Mabel may as well have been Stanford’s kid in his eyes, each little mannerism was instantly recognisable as one as Ford’s.

“Uh huh, piglets on the farm used’ ta’ love it! ‘Td help ‘em drift off ta’ sleep in a big stack.”

He grinned at Mabel’s gasp and the way her eyes lit up when she spun around to look at him.

“In a piggy pile?” she started to bounce with enthusiasm.

“In one ‘o the biggest piles ‘o piglets a‘round!” He poked her nose eliciting a giggle.

“Old ma- I mean Mcgucket can you pretty please teach me to play? I-I’ll uhh umm I’ll draw one of my famous catacatures for you!!”

Mabel’s energy was contagious but Fiddleford couldn’t help his knee from bouncing slightly as he sheepishly looked past her to the door.

“Oh uh not that’ I don’t want one of yer drawins’ girlie but I’m not uhh too sure that’s such a good idea, Stanford’s mighty busy at work an’...”

He looked down to see Mabel’s eyes were full of stars as she was practically buzzing with excitement that he hadn’t seen since he met her. Fidds couldn’t help but feel delight at the sight. Just like Stanford.

“Hehaha ‘lright but if we hear Ford comin’ up we ‘ave to hide my banjo ‘else I’ll never see it ‘tagain.”

“Ahh thank you thank you thank you!!” Mabel wrapped him in a tight hug and it was as though all her upset had been transferred into her keenness for a banjo lesson.

Fiddleford stood, and helped Mabel out of her cocoon of blankets before fixing his glasses.

“Ahaha okay okay hush now aha we’ve gotta’ be a bit more quiet kidlet.”

His smile faltered as he saw his hand rising to grip his hair, Mabel must have noticed too because she quickly held onto it and subtlety swung it back and forth as they went to collect the instrument.

[stuffingisforfools]

A fic I will never write but do think about constantly

Sam is at Stanford (same point in time as when dean comes to grab him in s1) he hasn’t spoken to dean in 2 yrs and it sucks but he’s rationalized it to himself, that he can’t have the normal life he wants and have dean in it. He tries not to think about it.

It’s the night before the law school interview and the same thing happens as in canon. Sam wakes up cause he hears someone moving around in their apartment except for this time it isn’t dean, it’s a 13 yo girl.

Before Sam can do anything the girl throw holy water at him, slices him with a silver knife and asks him what Poughkeepsie means

Sams confused and Jess is freaking out but he tells her that it’s a code him and his brother used to use, that it means to drop everything and run

The girl visibly relaxes and what she says next rocks sams entire world. “My name is Emma, I’m your niece.”

Sam is like no, that’s not possible, amd starts to ask what the fuck does she mean by that but Emma interrupts him befor he can finish speaking

“That’s not important. Deans missing, I haven’t seen him in a couple days”

And sams like “I haven’t seen him in years, I don’t know what to tell you.”

Emma doesn’t stop pressing and says “dean went on a hunting trip and I haven’t heard from him in a couple days.”

And Sam tries to get Jess to leave the room at that but this is a 13 yo girl not sams brother and she refuses

Emma interrupts them again while they argue “My dad said that if anything happened to come to you. He said you’d help me (what dean had really said was that Sam could keep her safe, she isn’t supposed to go after him if something happens, but despite everything she is her fathers daughter) my dads in trouble so are you gonna help or not.”

Before sams can respond Jess elbows him in the side and says “of course we’re gonna help you. How about we sit down for a second and talk things through. I’ll grab us some drink.” She side eyes Sam until he gets the message and he relunctantly leads Emma over to their table.

Couple notes: Emma is still an Amazon here just the whole thing happened during sams time at Stanford, dean got her right after him and Sam last talked so just under 2 years, John is still around but dean hid Emma’s existence from him and cut contact as much as he could cause he was afraid John would kill her and that’s why he told her to run to Sam if anything happened to him, cas is in this cause I love him but I haven’t figured out to put him in the story, Emma is 11 when dean gets her just because I think it’s more fun that way.

[laf-outloud]

SPN 01x11 Scarecrow

It's interesting how knowing future events can influence how you see old episodes. There's so much to unpack in this one. Read below for my thoughts on the characters and motivations in this episode.

John Winchester: In his call with Sam we find out he knows what killed Mary and Jessica was a Demon. This is the first we know if it and it seems to me he's recently come into this knowledge. He specifically tells Sam that he can't be a part of this. Does he know Sam is on the demon's radar? Missouri told him back on Home that his boy has power, but later in the season, he admonishes them for not telling him about Sam's power. How much does he actually know?

Dean Winchester: We really see the conflict between Sam and Dean with Sam's question everything and Dean's obey everything personalities. But even Dean admits later on that he wishes he could be more like Sam in that regard. More importantly, we see that struggle to hold onto Sam when Sam decides to leave for California. You can see how much he doesn't want that and it lends itself beautifully to the notion that when first picking him up from Stanford, Dean stood outside his dorm for hours. Dean is very dependent on his family and with his Dad MIA, Sam's all he's got. However, he realizes that he needs to allow Sam his freedom and is willing to let him go. Was he so willing when Sam went to Stanford? I would say not simply because Dean's speech in Scarecrow surprised Sam.

Sam Winchester: This episode really cements Sam's motivations that carry through the entire series. When John calls, his focus is on getting revenge, hunting the demon that killed Jessica. He refuses to obey John and is frustrated by John's willingness to leave him out. He's also quite willing to leave Dean behind and go his own way. He's done this before when he went to Stanford, though that was for an independent, normal life. This time, it's for revenge. In the call with Dean in the bus station, though, Sam realizes that Dean's letting him go. He's given that autonomy from his family that I don't think he ever had before. It helps him realize what's actually important and we get this gem of a conversation with Sam embracing the hunting life for the very first time. He continues to embrace it throughout the entire series as long as Dean is with him.

(Because I'm terrible finding GIFs, I'll just put this in text, though if someone has it, please share!)

Dean: So, can I drop you off somewhere?

Sam: Nah, I think your stuck with me.

Dean: What made you change your mind?

Sam: Still wanna find Dad, and you're still a pain in the ass, but Jess and Mom, their both gone. Dad is God knows where, you and me, we're all that's left. So, uh, if we're gonna see this through, we're gonna do it together.

Bonus (for all you wincesties out there):

Dean: Hold me, Sam, that was beautiful.

Sam: You should be kissing my ass...

Final notes: This is our first introduction to Meg. She seemed to playing the long con, but her conversation at the end confused me because she talks about how she could 'take both of them out'. We know that's not what's supposed to happen, so I'm not entirely clear on her marching orders.

[winchesterfanatic1967]

With You By My Side Part 1

Pairings: Dean x Reader 

Word Count: 1,269

Warnings: None 

The Reader’s Pov

When dad had to kill the demon that was possessing my mother, i was really little when it had happened so i don’t remember much. But what I do remember is him turning to the whiskey and moving around all the time. When we finally settled in our house in South Dakota, I was 10 years old.

By then i still went to school, and when i got older i learned about what really goes bump in the night. He taught me how to shoot when I turned 12. I read a lot of lore books because I'm a bit of a nerd for research. I helped him with hunts when I turned 14 and did my first vamp kill at 15.

Between all that I met the Winchesters. John Winchester used to drop them off at Bobby’s when they had a hunt together, which was quite often. During that time I became close to them. Sam became the older brother I never had. While as far as Dean goes….that’s a different story.

I started to develop a crush on Dean when I turned 16. He always treated me like a little sister that he would protect as much as he would protect Sammy. It became annoying at times but I always appreciated the kindness he showed. When i got sick, he would make me tomato rice soup like his mother had made him. When my first boyfriend at 17 broke my heart and dumped me because i didn’t want to have sex with him he kicked his ass and then watched Mean girls with me while i cried in his arms for hours. When I got my period in public he kindly gave me his leather jacket to cover up the stain on my pants. Dean Winchester is the most selfless man I’ve ever met.

When Sammy left for Stanford I kept in touch with Dean. I helped him with some hunts while hunting with my father Bobby. When John went missing I helped him grab Sam and start looking. When Jessica died I tagged along for most of the time. It was the three musketeers.

The last seven years haven’t been the easiest for the boys and myself included. John’s deal and trying to hunt down yellow eyes, Dean’s deal for Sam and him being dead for four months, Sam working with Ruby and eventually letting Lucifer out of his cage and then him saving the world and jumping in the pit. Then he turned out to be alive but he was not the same Sam.

The worst year of my life other than my father’s passing was Dean leaving to go live with Lisa and Ben. By then..i was 100% in love with him and it broke my heart that he chose them. In the end I was happy Dean got to be happy for a change after the hell we all just went through. When Castiel erased their memories i couldn’t deny the fact that a part of me was happy.. It sounds awful but I missed Dean so much and I was getting 100% of him back.

When the Leviathans came about, the asshole Dick Roman shot and killed my father. When he refused to leave with the reaper and stayed on earth I knew it wasn’t the right thing but the selfish part of me didn’t want to let him go. Until he was becoming a vengeful spirit and we didn’t have much of a choice but to burn his flask.

After Dean returned from Purgatory and we found the bunker, I couldn't deny that I felt at home with the Winchesters. I miss my father everyday. I remember the last conversation we ever had before he was shot…..

5 years ago

“Kid, listen to me. The idjit is in love with you just as much as you’re in love with him….just tell him.” My father said.

I could feel the blush creeping up my cheeks and shook my head.

“He sees me as his little sister that he has to protect dad. Nothing more.”

“God you’re both so stubborn, life is too damn short..and for hunters it’s even shorter. I say take a risk, you never know what can happen.”

I just shook my head again and looked out the window of the car and that was the end of the conversation.

As I was in my train of thoughts I heard a soft knock on my bedroom door and then Dean poked his head in, he smiled when he saw me.

“Hey sweetheart, you coming into the kitchen for dinner? I made your favorite”.

“...Your lasagna?”. I grinned at him and he chuckled.

“Yes.”

“Okay, I'll be there in a few.”

After dinner we all did our nightly routines and I went into my room for bed. I scrolled down Netflix, trying to find a new series to watch. I decided on The Vampire Diaries since I heard it was a good one, plus...Ian Somerhalder is attractive as all hell.

I jumped up out of my sleep around 1am. Gasping for air I looked around and realized it was just a nightmare and let out a huge sigh of relief. The nightmares have been on and off again lately, the world on my shoulders isn’t the easiest thing to deal with. I laid there for a while staring at the ceiling wondering if Dean was awake. I grabbed my phone and decided to text him.

“Hey...are you awake?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you tired?”

“A little, why what’s wrong sweetheart?”

I smiled at the nickname that he’s used for all these years and began to reply back

“I know it sounds silly but i had a nightmare and wanted to talk to you to get my mind off of it.”

“Sweetheart?” Dean poked his head in my room and then shut the door behind him. He sat on the empty side of my bed and gently brushed the loose hair behind my ear.

“Talk to me, what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

“I’m just tired of it all Dean, the world constantly on our shoulders. The victim's blood on our hands that we couldn’t save. I’m also really missing my dad lately Dean...i miss him so much it hurts.”

My voice cracked after I said that and completely lost it. Dean took me in his arms as I sobbed uncontrollably. He rubbed his hands up and down my back the way he knew calmed me down and kissed my forehead and temple over and over again.

“Let it all out y/n. I know.. i know.. shhhh..” he said as my body started to shake.

As I started to calm down he turned to look at me. He wiped my tears away from my cheeks and smiled softly. I noticed then his eyes were glistening with tears of his own.

“I miss your dad too y/n. I think about him everyday. I know he would be so proud of you. I know that.”

I smiled softly at him and looked down at my hands.

“Thank you for coming in here Dean, I know it’s really late I should let you go back to sleep.”

“The only way i’m going back to sleep is if i sleep in here with you.”

I smiled at him and nodded

He laid down and got himself comfortable and then held his arms out for me to crawl into. I laid on his chest and listened to his steady heartbeat and then the darkness took over.

SERIES MASTERLIST

[rowyn-writes]

Cinnamon and Sugar

Chapter Two

Warnings: Cursing, harassment, implied depression, mentions of small character death.

Characters: Dean, Crowley, Kevin, Reader

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Midterms were getting closer and closer. You were finally understanding the material after weeks of studying. You knew you couldn't fail this class. All you ever wanted to be was a Forensic Scientist, ever since you were younger you knew. It's probably because of all the crime shows you watched with your sister.

Your sister. Lena.

You swallowed thickly as you thought of her. You quickly pushed that out of your mind, not wanting to bring up bad memories.

You had eight more days before the midterm, and you needed a break. So you decided to go to Chuck's for a cup of coffee.

You had recently invested in a skateboard, mainly because you were tired of walking everywhere. It was also much faster to get places rather than walking.

When you arrived at the shop, you kicked up your skateboard and walked in. "Hey, Y/N." Kevin greeted from behind the counter. "What are you doing here? You have today off "

"I know. I just needed a break from studying. Thought I'd come down here to hang out for a bit." You shrugged, hopping up on the counter. "So, how's Mama Tran?"

Kevin cracked a smile as he made you your favorite coffee. "She's good. Crazy as hell, but that's why I love her."

"Ah, yes. We've all seen the wrath of your mother." You nodded, remembering the time that Mrs. Tran went off on Chuck for overworking you and Kevin. 

Kevin handed you your usual cup of coffee and urged you to go sit on the couch, as there were customers coming in.

A change a scenery definitely helped you focus better. Being cooped up in your apartment 24/7 was not good for your mental health. You enjoyed being in the coffee shop, it felt very homey.

Kevin brought you another coffee, and with it, a donut. You began to refuse when he glared at you. I know you. And I know you probably haven’t eaten all day. Take it.”

You took the donut, giving him an appreciative smile. “Thanks, Kev.”

You were in there for another hour and a half when someone familiar walked in. It was Dean, and he looked to be covered in oil stains. "Can I get a large of whatever you recommend?" He asked Kevin.

"Uh. . ." Kevin hated it when the customer asked him to choose for them. Because if the hated it, he was to blame. "Y/N, what do you think he should try?"

You peeked your head out from behind you book. "Try a french vanilla macchiato." You suggested.

Dean nodded his head. "Sounds good." He glanced over in your direction. "Hey, I remember you. You're the girl that insulted my taste in Americanos."

"And rightfully so, might I say." You retorted. "They're disgusting. It's literally watered down expresso." Dean grinned, shrugging his shoulders.

"I never caught your name." He said.

"Y/N." You informed him, eyes glancing back down at your text book.

"Chemistry?" He questioned, to which you nodded. "My brother's going to college for legal studies."

"Really? Does he go to UK?"

"Nah, he got into Stanford."

You were impressed. "That was my dream school. But life had other plans for me I guess."

"Are you studying to be a scientist?" He asked.

"Yeah, actually. A Forensic Scientist."

"Wow, sounds way better than being a boring lawyer." Dean snorted.

"Different strokes for different folks." You shrugged.

"French vanilla macchiato." Kevin called out to Dean, who went to grab his coffee.

"You don't mind me sitting with you, do you?"

"No, not at all." You motioned for him to sit down. "So, do you go to college?"

"No," He laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. "My brother inherited most of the brains. I work at Singer's Salvage Shop down the road."

You recognized the name of the shop. It was the one where your old car had been taken to. You could no longer use it; it was a piece of junk anyways.

"Oh, yeah. I know that place. My dad dragged my old car there. It was a piece of shit." You said, letting a yawn escape your lips.

"Tired?"

You nodded. "Exhausted. I have midterms in a few days and I understand nothing. Not to mention my boss is an ass and this is the first day I've had off in two weeks."

Dean gave you a look of understanding. "If this is the first day you've had off, why decide to come here?"

"Because, despite the crappy boss and crappy pay, I love it here. I love the people I work with, they’re my family. Plus, there was no way I was getting anything done in my apartment. They just started renovation in the apartment above me, and they are making a ton of noise."

Dean gave you a sympathetic look. He knew what it was like to live in an apartment. "That must really suck."

"Eh. I've gotten used to the living conditions. I grew up with a big family, so I'm used to noise. But I've been away from them so long, I forgot what noise sounded like." Dean gave you a boyish smile.

“It was just me, my little brother and my dad growing up.” Dean shared. “He was a mechanic too, worked with his best friend, Bobby. He’s pretty much like my uncle.”

"I've got people like that." You nodded. "Jo, she's one of my best friends. Our other friend, Jack, is attending college in North Carolina. They're like the siblings I never asked for." You laughed.

"Yeah, it's nice to have people looking out for you that isn't just family." Dean added. "So, besides your day older brother that you mentioned the other day, do you have any other siblings?"

"Let's see, there's Andrew, he's the oldest, then there's me, my younger brother Josh, and -" You cut yourself off, clearing your throat. "And my baby sister Lena."

"Wow, you do have a big family." Dean said. There was something different underlying in his tone. Jealousy? Envy?

"Yeah, well, I don't really talk to my parents." You shrugged. "We don't all get along very well. Andrew's in the Army, so I don't see him all that often."

"Yeah, it's like that with Sam, too. Since he's off at Stanford, we don't talk that much."

"You should call him, just to check up on him." You suggest.

"I might, I dunno. Things ended bad the last time we talked." Dean frowned. "I don't think he wants to talk to me."

"Who knows, he could want to call you but he's too scared because he thinks you don't want to talk to him. At the end of the day, he's your brother, and he loves you."

"Wise words from the great Y/N." Dean smirked.

"I dunno about great. Wise; maybe. Jury's still out on that one."

Dean chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. "Huh, you're really good at picking out drinks for me."

"I'm glad you like it. Everyone works really hard here. That's another thing I like about Chuck's. It's a great environment."

"So, how long have you been working here?"

"Since I was sixteen." You informed him. "I'm 22 now. I'm actually the manager."

"Damn, that's pretty young to be manager. Well, you're obviously good at what you do." You gave Deana small smile.

"Tha-"

"Y/N!" Kevin said, rushing over to you. "He's here." You could hear the panic seeping from his voice.

"Crowley?" You questioned worriedly. Kevin nodded, visibly shaking. "Go!" You hissed. "Go hide in the back I'll take care of it."

Dean casted you a confused look as Kevin ran for cover. You threw your book aside, not caring about where it landed.

"Crowley." You crossed your arms as you approached the front counter. "What are you doing here? Have I done something bad that would make God want to punish me by sending you here?"

Crowley scowled at you. "I'm not here for you, love. I saw Kevin's bike outside and thought I might drop by for a visit."

"You must be mistaken. Kevin's not working today. Or any day you decide to 'drop by for a visit.'"

"C'mon, I know he's hiding out in the back, little coward! We have unfinished business, you and I!" He called to Kevin.

"Hey!" You growled, slamming your hand down in the counter to grab Crowley's attention. "As far as I'm concerned, Kevin owes you nothing. If I see you here again, I will have your ass arrested for trespassing and harassment of a minor. You got that?"

"Why you little -" Crowley surged forward, only to be stopped by Dean's strong hand.

"You heard the pretty lady. You're not welcome here. Get. Out." Dean shoved Crowley towards the door. The older man threw you both a dirty look before leaving. "What was that all about?" Dean questioned.

"Kevin's mom used to date that piece of shit. Once she wizened up, she dumped his sorry ass and he's been hounding Kevin ever since. I've banned him at least five times in the past two months. He just can't get it through his thick skull that he's not welcomed here."

Hearing that the yelling had stopped, Kevin poked his head out. "Is he gone?" He whispered.

"Yeah, Kev, he's gone." You noticed that the boy was still shaking. You rested a hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You okay?"

"No." He shook his head. "Will he ever leave me and my mom alone?"

"I hope so." You pulled his into a hug, trying to calm him down. "Will you be okay to work the rest of the day or should I call Maddison in?"

"I'll be okay. I just need a second."

"Take as much time as you need, sweetheart."

You wished there was something more you could do for Kevin. You knew the abuse that went on when Crowley dated his mother, Linda Tran. No one really did anything, of course, since Crowley basically owned half of the town.

You and Dean decided to stay until Kevin was completely calm. "Here." You said, reaching info your backpack and handing the boy a small rectangular box. "If Crowley comes back, you tase his ass and run. You know where I live." Kevin seemed hesitant to accept it.

"Don't you need this for when you're walking home?"

"I've got pepper spray and brass knuckles, I think I'm covered, kid." You gave him a playful wink. Just as you were about to leave the shop, it started to pour down rain.

"Damn." You mumbled. "It said it wasn't supposed to rain today!"

"I can give you a ride home?" Dean offered.

"Oh, no, I'd hate to impose. You probably have somewhere to be anyways." You shook your head.

"It's not problem," Dean insisted. "I don't have to be back at Bobby's until 4."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. Let's go." Before you could walk out the door, Dean put his leather jacket around your shoulders. "To keep you dry."

You tried to hide the blush that ran up your cheeks as you went out into the freezing rain. You quickly threw your skateboard in the trunk before hopping in his car.

"Dean," You said, using a serious tone. "I'm in love with your car."

Dean chuckled as he turned on the Impala, blasting the heat to warm you up. "It belonged to my dad. He gave it to me when he died."

You frowned at his words. "I'm sorry about his passing."

"It was a while ago. I've healed. Maybe not completely, and I don't think I ever will, but it's gotten easier."

"Take a right at the next turn." You mumbled, looking down at your hands. "I'm glad that you're doing well. I'm sure it wasn't easy, losing him."

"It wasn't." He shook his head as he made the turn onto your street. "But it gets a little better with each passing day."

You looked out the window, your eyes watching as the rain poured down harder. You wished a day would come where feeling the loss was easier. Right now, it was damn near unbearable. Your friends kept telling you it would get better, that the sharp pain in your chest would become a dull sting. But what do they know? They had never lost someone so close to them. They had no clue what you were feeling.

The only person who truly understood your heartbreak was Jo. But she wasn't the type that dealt with her emotions in a healthy way.

"You okay, sweetheart?" Dean asked, casting you a sideways glance.

"Yeah," You lied. "I'm okay." Hopefully, one day, those words would be true. But as of now, everything hurt.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Tag List

Dean Babes:

@akshi8278

Cinnamon and Sugar:

@lovememisha @supernatural-jackles @laycblack

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

[alittleoptimistic]

The Number Six and Other Curses

A Gravity Falls fan fic (a reincarnation AU)

Summary: Though no one knew it, Dipper Pines was born at the exact moment Ford Pines died somewhere in the multi-verse. Twelve years later, Dipper and Mabel’s summer trip to Gravity Falls sparks a flurry of intense nightmares and memories Dipper could not possibly have. Surely, it’s all a coincidence.

________________________________________________________________

Chapter One:  Dreams and Premonitions

Stanley Pines put little stock in religion or fate or all that jazz. He knew a few too many con artists and watched the wheels of injustice and felt lonely maybe a few too many times to believe in God, but he, with the sort of sad wistfulness that colored much of Stanley, sometimes he wished he did. August 31st, 1999, was one of those nights when he was weak.

He pounded up crumbling, damp dirt, a horrid terror gripping his chest like a tentacled beast. He slipped and clawed toward a gleaming red light. A book poked at his ribs and he considered opening it one last time if only to feel okay for a second longer, but the dirt poured thicker, faster, and he couldn’t risk stopping. Heart pounding, he struggled ever upward toward the gleaming red light veiled in mist, but it was too much and he was too tired and they were going to catch up to him! To think, after all this time, this got him. The dirt stuck to his thighs, up to his chest. He clawed upward, desperate to touch the red light, and the dirt clogged his throat, his nostrils, his lungs, with the wretched stench of wet earth. He screamed as it forced him to shut his eyes. It wasn’t fair! He wasn’t done! The weight of it all squeezed him, an ungodly weight, the pain beyond imagination.

Then Stanley was looking down at himself. No, not himself. He flew into the sky, away from wet, grey dirt in all directions, and into the red light, brighter and brighter. The dirt settled, leaving no sign of disturbance. That wasn't quite true. A six-fingered hand reached up out of the earth like a stripped sapling.

No. Nononono! A high-pitched ring rushed through Stanley.

At exactly six AM, Stanley Pines leaped up from the threadbare armchair in his cabin in the woods, scrambling, coughing, choking for breath, and if he was crying, he didn’t notice. “It’s a nightmare,” he heaved. “Jus’ a messed up dream.” He’d had many nightmares like it before. Well, never as vivid or as doomed as that one, but… it happened, sure. Dear lord, he could still feel the weight of that awful dirt on his chest. He could taste it. And then, because he couldn’t stop himself and he was alone, Stan slid to the mat covering the wooden floors and stayed there, eyes blank. The TV blared a M*A*S*H* rerun. It cast green and brown light over the furniture, a wall-mounted rabbit/skunk he glued himself, and Stan’s tightly clenched fists. He breathed in and scrubbed his eyes with the bases of his palms. “Good grief,” he muttered.

It was then that he registered the ringing phone in the kitchen. He considered letting it go. It was six AM, after all. Who the heck was calling him in the night (morning?) anyway? Why did Stan even have a phone? Who had the number? Why six am? Why did this have to happen? What was he forgetting? If he answered the phone and someone told him they had a very special deal for him, he was going to tear the dang thing out of the wall.

Stan struggled to his feet, cracked his back, shuttered, and shuffled in his slippers to the kitchen.

“Stan Pines here, whaddaya want?”

“Uncle Stan! It- it’s happened! Oh my goodness, I can’t even think!”

Stan pulled the phone from his ear. “David? Is that you?” It all came rushing back. Oh! Right! That’s why Stan fell asleep down here in the first place! David’s girlfriend was in labor! “Ey! Congratulations, kid! What’re you gonna name it?”

“Them, rather!” David sounded a little shell-shocked. Giddy, but definitely glazed.

“‘M sorry?”

“Twins, Stan. A girl and a boy!”

Stan blinked. A rather horrible feeling washed over him, a horrible, unfair, selfish feeling. “T-twins? You weren’t expecting twins!”

“No, the doctors are baffled! I’m just- I mean, I’m completely overwhelmed, don’t get me wrong,  we did not prepare for two babies! We only have stuff for our little Mabel and now there’s a boy too! But it’s like, the more the merrier, right? “ He laughed, breathless, “Two kids, Stan! Oh my gosh, how on earth am I supposed to take care of… you know what, I’ll think about that later.”

Stan cleared his throat. “That’s fantastic, Dave!” and he was earnest, really. He couldn’t be happier for his nephew. Even if he and his girlfriend were… quite young. She was older, he believed. Nineteen, maybe?

“Guess twins must run in the family, huh?”

“Guess so.”

“Say, I just got off the phone with Dad. He’s comin’ in with Carrie tomorrow. I know you said you were busy with the Mystery Shack and all…”

The request went unsaid, but Stan knew what David wanted to say. He rubbed the back of his neck. He avoided his family. It was bad enough taking Stanford’s name. He’d rather impersonate him as little as he had too. Luckily for his nephew, David had never known the original Stanford, so it was easier to just be himself around him. He’d planned on sitting this out. He didn’t even know David’s girlfriend- couldn’t for the life of him remember her name. But… the idea of staying in this cabin alone for a minute longer made his head spin. The dream was like a vulture circling around him, and Stan knew, deep in his gut, something he never allowed himself to truly consider. If he ever got that damn portal to work, he would rescue something to lie to rest. His thumb shook on his lip as he pushed the feeling down.

“... I can spare a few days.”

“I don’t want to pressure you-”

“You ain’t pressuring me! I’m coming and you can’t stop me! Twins! Ha! I’ll be there tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? ! Don’t do anything rash, Stan! You don’t have to-”

Stan cackled. “See ya, kid! Rest while you can!”

“... Alright, Uncle Stan. ”

Stan slammed the phone onto the receiver and swallowed. He caught his fussy reflection in the dark kitchen window. He forced a grin, more of a grimace, and patted his disheveled hair. He refused to- No, He didn’t know for certain. “Twins, Ford,” he whispered. “Can you believe it?” His reflection’s eyes grew misty.

Yeah. It was time to get out of this cabin.

________________________________________________________________

   David hated working late, but it happened more and more often. Joe needed help, and he was the only mechanic who was actually half good at his job (if he said so himself) and David needed the money. He’d been right to go to trade school as soon as he found out his girlfriend was pregnant. He was sixteen and a half and that was… well, it sucked, but it was sort of ‘par with the course for the Pine’s family.’  That’s what his dad’s wife said, anyway. He learned later his dad didn’t talk to her for three days after that comment. He did not blame him in the slightest. He didn’t hate Carrie or anything, she just wasn’t his mom and, as such, would... never measure up. She was also an incredible pain in the neck, but that's beside the point. It was a running joke that his dad had snagged a cougar for her money, which had been hilarious until Carrie shrugged airily at the suggestion and his dad turned beet red at the kitchen table, and David suddenly had the thought that oh gosh maybe the joke was- nope. Not going there. He had other things to focus on.

Like his kids and his hot wife and their tiny apartment that she’d turned into something homey and good. It smelled like tacos today. His keys rattled as he set them on the counter and hung up his jacket.

“DADDY!!” came a shrill shriek from the other room, followed by a pitter-patter of feet. A ball of pink giggled madly. He threw her in the air. “Wook, Dad!” She held up a paper… reindeer? Was that what it was supposed to be? “It’s for the chee!”

“For the tree?”

“Yes!! Cissmas chee!”

“You make that in school? I… like all the eyeballs, baby. That’s a lot of eyeballs.”

The kitchen was smoking, and he could hear Anna banging pans. “Mason, four forks! We’re setting the table, remember? Buddy, you can’t carry the- oh dear.”

   Mabel balancing on his feet, David walked through the little living room and into an even smaller kitchen. We’re going to need a bigger house, eventually.

“Hey, honey.”

Anna turned around, Mason halfway picked up, a bundle of cups and forks somehow grasped in the other hand. She pushed a strand of loose brown hair behind her ear with the back of her hand. She was in her scrubs. “You’re home! Dave, it’s almost seven thirty!” Mason squirmed out of her hands and quietly took the cups and forks. He struggled for a moment before sticking the forks into the cups, and then, problem solved, lit up and set the cups and forks on the table. As usual, David was… not getting even a hello from his son.

“Joe had me stay late.”

Anna scoffed, throwing taco meat onto plates and stuffing a taco into her mouth. “e’ can kiss my ah’” She swallowed. “Mabel, we’re going to sit down. It’s tacos!”

“Tacos!” Mabel squealed. “I LOVE tacos!”

“I know, baby. Come on, come on.” She ushered her to the table where Mason was already sitting on his booster seat, attempting to pour himself a cup of grape juice. David joined them, swinging Mabel up into her seat.

“Hey!” Anna yelped, grabbing the bottle of grape juice as it wavered above Mason’s cup. “I said you have to ask!”

“I can pour it myself, Mom!”

“You really can’t, bud,” David volunteered. He got himself a taco and took a bite while scooping meat into Mabel’s tortilla. “‘member what happened in the car seat?”

Mason scowled. But he took the poured cup of juice and accepted the kiss on his forehead by his mother. Mabel hugged her mom around the neck, gushing a very enthused, “Good job for at school, mommy.”

“Thank you, baby.” Anna finally caught David’s eye. Her shoulders relaxed, just slightly, and she gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Love you, babe.” And then into his ear. “Wait up for me.” She squeezed his arm.

Oh, David would.

“And... I’m-” She glimpsed the kitchen clock. Her eyes went wide. “I’m late! I’m late!” She scrambled away. “I love you all! David, don’t forget to load and start the dishwasher! Mason can help!”

“Got it!”

The door opened.

“And their homework! They have… why do they give preschoolers homework- They have homework! Mabel still has to finish-”

“I’ve got it!” David called after her. He leaned forward in the chair to see her through the kitchen. “We’re good! Go!”

She smiled, hastily. And… just like that, she left.

For all of three seconds, the house was silent.

Mabel made a popping noise with her spoon and Mason blinked at her before picking up his own spoon and considering it.

“Okay, okay, let’s not- let’s use the silverware for food, guys.”

Mabel set down the spoon and stabbed the taco. “I’m using my fork for my food!” Mabel said with a grin that revealed the gap in her two front teeth.

“Thank you, I see that.”

“I always use my fork,” came Mason’s inevitable, irritable reply. This was rather typical. He’d probably need to have another talk with him soon. Sometimes they took it for granted that Mason was more… competent than his sister. Not unusually so. He was still a four-year-old. But he could read and he spoke clearer, and he just picked up on more than Mabel did. Maybe it was because he was quiet. He was definitely the microphone to Mabel’s loudspeaker. The two of them were fascinating to watch, if David was honest. It blew his mind sometimes. They were growing into their own little people with their own personalities and quirks. Wild.

Dinner went like it usually did, with Mabel finishing everything and Mason picking through his taco like he was checking it for poison. They cleaned up, and Mason showed David very seriously how his mom liked the dishes in the dishwasher. “No, Dad. You gotta line up the bowls. Like this , see?” David humored him because it made the kid happy.

After dinner, they decided that coloring was a good idea. Mabel needed to finish her homework, and it got finished eventually, though it was a little sparkly.

Mason determinedly drew in the ‘blank coloring book’ (as Mabel said) that he liked. He was an anxious kid, and they’d discovered early on it was easier for him to draw pictures than say out loud what was bothering him. David didn’t have any reason to think they upset Mason, but he had a blue crayon in his fist and his tongue out the edge of his mouth, and he was going at it. Maybe he’d just draw something nice for once.

David almost didn’t want to ask. He doodled a puppy for Mabel, who gasped out loud and took the crayon from him to add “Lots an’ lots of puppies fends.”

Clearing his throat, David dove in. “Whatcha drawing there, bud?”

Mason looked up. His eyes were bright. He shuffled the book around and David’s heart sank a little. It’s okay. He’s got an active imagination.

“This is ‘achnimorph. Like a people spider.”

That was… indeed, what the drawing looked like. Mason was probably going to be rather talented at art when he was older. His dexterity wasn’t great now, of course, but it was clear what he’d drawn. A many-eyed person with eight legs and a massive spider lower half- all drawn in blue crayon.

“Where d'you see that, Massey?”

“I just thought it.”

“You just thought it?”

Mason nodded, unperturbed. He flipped a page. He was leaning halfway across the table in his eagerness to show him. “This is a fairy. They’re mean. This is a cowl.”

“A… cowl?”

“A cow and an owl,” he said, like this was obvious. “They lay eggs with milk in them.”

“Oh.” David didn’t dislike Mason’s… inventions. They were just strange and neither Anna nor David could figure out where on earth he was getting the ideas? Both of the kids got nightmares easily, especially Mason, so they watched little tv, and their teachers assured them they provided nothing that would inspire these sorts of drawings. At least today wasn’t so bad. Anna had called him in a panic when Mason drew a ‘skin couch’ one afternoon, complete with bloody stitching in red marker.

“... it makes the cosmic sand go all,” Mason threw his hands in the air. “And this is my other daddy, and this-”

David straightened. Did he hear him right? He flipped back the page. “What do you mean?”

On the other side of the table, Mabel sighed dramatically and melted down in the chair. She would have to wait.

“Mason?”

Something shifted in Mason’s face. There was a timidity there. He was nervous. “You won’t like it, daddy.”

“I’m not going to be mad. I’m just confused.”

Mason considered this and then pointed at two stick figures. One a broad-shouldered man with a terrifying scowl and square eyes, and the other a stick thin woman. “This is my other mom and dad.”

“Your… other- Mason, you don’t have another mom and dad. You just have me and momma.”

Mason shook his head, “No, before I lived here. In the upstairs house.”

David was… at a loss. They hadn’t moved since Mason and Mabel were born. They’d lived nowhere but here. He must be confused. Was he thinking of somewhere they visited? David took another look at the stick figures, tapping a finger on the table. Suddenly it clicked, and David chuckled. “Mason, that wasn’t your other mom and dad. That’s grandma Caryn and Filbrick. We visited them last summer for Filbrick’s funeral. Caryn’s your great-grandma, not your momma, silly.” Mason didn’t look convinced. In fact, he looked like, if David pressed it, he might burst into tears.  David pushed bangs out of Mason’s eyes, running a thumb over the six-star constellation on his forehead with a light hand. It was a good thing that Mabel chose that moment to knock a bottle of glitter to the floor.

David pushed the instance into the back of his mind, and he didn’t even think to mention it when Anna finally got home to a (moderately) clean house. Mason filled up the little journal, and it ended up at the bottom of his toy chest, and then in a box at the top of the closet. As time went on, Mason stopped with the drawings, mostly anyway. David would find them, sometimes, in the margins of his books, little, idle doodles; eyes with bat wings, faces with too many teeth, that illuminati triangle, bearded ghosts. None of that was worth worrying about. As long as they weren’t bloody- his mother made that rule- Mason could draw what he liked. But even those doodles faded. School was more time-consuming. They moved into a new house (a house they owned!) and if some of Mason’s many journals got mixed up and lost, no one knew about it. If Mason started turning to Mabel instead of his parents after one of his near-weekly nightmares, well, that was just part of growing up, wasn’t it? He was nearly thirteen, after all.

“What was it this time?” Mabel slurred. She was still mostly asleep, her hair spread across her pillow and a wrinkled mark on her cheek. Her plump grey cat was flexing his claws into the blanket beside her head.

Dipper closed the door, shutting off the gold stripe on the carpet. He sat back down on his bed across the room and sipped a glass of milk. It was his go-to for nightmares. His skin was sticky and cold with sweat. He swiped his eyes and gulped down the rest of the glass. “Just the getting-crushed one again. I think. It’s hard to remember.”

Mabel groaned. “You always say that… need some variety.”

“Tell me about it.” Dipper sat in silence, the glass warming in his hand. He wasn’t sure he was ready to lie down again. He didn’t want to blink too slow, in case he saw it , whatever it had been, that scared him so badly. The least his mind could do was let him know what he was so scared of, but apparently that was too much to ask for.

Dipper looked down at the sound of shuffling sheets. Mabel turned to face him. She rubbed an eye with her fist and yawned. “I was dreaming ‘bout summer. We went to Grandpa Shermie’s again, and he gave me caramel but it got stuck in my braces and I couldn’t talk and I wanted to ride the motorcycle with him, but I couldn’t say anything cause… cause a’ the carmel...” Her eyes drooped.

Dipper smiled. He shifted down on his bed, eyes on Mabel, and tucked his blanket up to his cheek. Time ticked past, and before he knew it, the sun was rising. It was the first day of summer vacation.

To be continued...