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jasmines-library · 1 year ago

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Can you do a Winchester sister fic pls where the sister gets years taken off her life by saving Dean (how Dean took years off his life to save Bobby in season 5) and she’s running out of time and while Sam is finishing up the poker game against the witch to save her, she dies in deans arms (the sister is closer with Dean and always looked up to him and the boys ofc are always protective of her) but then Sam wins the poker game and brings her back

The Curious Case of Dean Winchester

Note: This one was really fun to write. I hope you don't mind that I added my own little twist onto the episode (S5E7) and that it's pretty angsty: I couldn't help myself.

warnings: Death but only brief, swearing once or twice.

Word count: 2.3K (wow it's been a hot minute since I've written like this and i've missed it)

⛤ SPN MASTERLIST ⛤

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

Those were the last words Dean Winchester told you before you split off to search the other side of town. Of course, that is exactly what you did.

As soon as Cliff Whitlow, the missing victim, had revealed the man behind his so-called miracle, you knew exactly what you had to do. The man behind the unusual deaths- Patrick, was a witch- a powerful one at that. And you needed a Witch.

See, Dean had got himself into a predicament. He had made a deal with a crossroads demon so that Bobby could walk again. He couldn’t bear to see him so miserable anymore, so he did what he thought was the right thing to do. Bobby was mad, you and Sam even madder, and you were now running out of time to find a way to get him out of it. It frustrated you that Dean’s impending doom was creeping up slowly on you, ready to grab him at any second, but no one was doing anything about it. So you took matters into your own hands.

You took the elevator around the back of the bar down to the basement after bribing the bartender with enough money to make you cringe. It was rickety and jolted unnervingly as it descended, opening up into another bar. Few people lingered around sipping from glasses of spirits that lined the walls, though you paid little attention to them because your gaze had locked onto him. He sat smugly in a secluded section of the room behind a table a poker game had been laid out on. Leaning back on his chair he watched his latest victim bet away his life. He was using magic to enchant the poker chips, grinning as he scooped the man's chips towards him, watching as his face turned ashen and grey.

“That’s a cruel trick you got there.” You said making your way over to the table.

“Thank you.” He shrugged, rearranging the black and red chips with a smirk. “I take it you’re here for a reason?”

“I want to play.”

He glanced up at you, raising a brow and speaking to you with a thick, Irish lilt. “You look awfully young for someone trying to get more years… that is unless?”

“I’m not a witch.”

“I see.” you were intriguing him now. “How can I help you?”

“My brother. He made a demon deal. I need you to get rid of it in return for my years.”

The witch tilted his head as he looked at you keely. “Now slow down there, princess. Cancelling a demon deal is a very difficult thing to do. Takes a whole bunch of magic and persuasion to do that. Giving me a few years isn’t going to be enough.”

“30.” You laid down.

“Tempting.” He hummed, “But I think we can have some real fun with this. What do you say?”

“Whatever. Just help my brother.”

“Good answer. I’ll play for your brother’s deal. You win, I'll try to cut your brother's deal.”

“And if I lose?”

“60.” The staggering number almost made your heart stop, but you were doing this for Dean. Sam needed him. The world needed him. “But it’ll start slowly until you least expect it.”

“Deal. Oh and one more thing.”

The witch leaned forwards in his chair

“Dean can’t play to replace my years with his own.”

“You must be very desperate.” The witch mused, gesturing for you to take a seat as he began to shuffle his deck of cards. “That or you’re extremely stupid. Who knows. But I like you. You show loyalty to your family and that’s very important. Perhaps, once you lose I might even see if I can remove your brother's deal. I’m feeling generous today.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Just shut up and play.”

“Y/N?”

Dean’s voice made you stop dead in your tracks as you rounded the corner after stepping out of the elevator. He stared at you with an irascible look, though you could see the confusion hidden in his eyes.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He hissed at you. You were supposed to be across the other side of town. When the three of you split up, you took off in the wrong direction to slip into the bar before your brothers found it. You had taken the receipt from one of the victims' jackets and raced down there in hopes that you would make it out before one of them stumbled across it. I guess you were just incredibly unlucky today.

“Planting daisies.” You said sarcastically as you tried to push your way past your brother so he wouldn’t see your face. “What’s it look like?”

“So you found the game?” He queried, chasing after you.

“Yep.”

“Did you stop it?”

You kept quiet and continued on straight. You had lied to Dean hundreds of times before so why couldn’t you bring yourself to do it now?

“Y/N?”

You stopped, turning to face him with a sigh.

“Not exactly…”

You could see the dread on his face now. “What did you do?”

You swallowed thickly. “I played. Okay?”

Dean Winchester stared at you dumbfounded for a moment, his lips twitching as he struggled to process the right words. “And?”

“...I lost.”

Your brother nearly exploded. “Are you kidding me?! The one thing I told you not to do was ‘anything studpid’. And you played some He-witch?!”

“Someone had to do something Dean! I can’t just sit by everyday knowing that you could be dragged away from us any second. I can’t go through that again Dean.”

“You idiot.” He was blaming himself, you could hear it on his tongue; the way he seethed. “Sammy and I are looking for something. We will find something.”

“That’s what you said last time. And I'm sorry Dean, but I can’t. Sammy needs you. The world needs you.”

“And you don’t think we need you?! You can’t go throwing your years away.”

“They’re my years. I can do what I want.”

“How many did you lose Y/N?”

“60.”

Sam bustled through the door trying to balance a tray of drinks and a paper bag filled with fast food. He slid them on the counter and tossed his keys beside them as he called out.

“Are you guys home?”

“In here, Sammy.” Dean emerged from the bathroom and Sam could tell his brother was mad. He was wearing that stern look and his voice was agitated.

“Where’s Y/N?”

“Here.” You bundled through the door, glancing silently between your brothers gripping a candy bar you had wrangled from one of the vending machines. You didn’t really want it you just needed an excuse to get out of the motel room and escape from the tension and side glances that Dean shot your way.

Sam studied you for a moment as you pulled out a chair to slump on. At first glance he hardly noticed it, but he realised that you looked older. Not by a lot, but you moved differently and your eyes were ever so slightly more creased.

“Either of you two wanna tell me what happened?”

“Y/N’s got a death wish. That’s what happened.” Dean stated, rummaging in the bag that Sam had brought back from the diner.

“Oh so I was just supposed to let you die? Again?”

“Yes. Or find another way.” Dean spat back at you but you knew he was scared. Scared and feeling guilty for what your near future might entail.

Sam blinked as the two of you argued, firing words at each other. “Whoa. Slow down. What happened? Did you find the witch?”

“Oh yeah. Y/N found the witch alright, Sammy. Why don’t you tell him what happened, Kid?”

“I played.”

“You what?”

“I played for Dean’s deal to be spoiled… and I lost.”

“Oh God, Y/N/N… How much did you lose?”

“60…” You started, watching the horror cross his features. “But he’s taking them slowly. Waiting until we least expect it.”

“And there’s the punchline.” Dean could have laughed.

Sam was in shock, though he understood why you had done it. He understood why you were hurting. He was there when Dean was taken. He saw how broken up it made you and he saw how you clung to him when he returned, hesitant to leave his side for weeks.

“Oh kiddo.” he sighed “What have you gotten yourself into?”

“You know, I still think I should play.” Sam said. The three of you had just broken into the Witch’s flat. Sam and Dean believed that if they got hold of the chips then they could find a way to get you your years back, but you had been caught and the witch had revealed that the chips had nothing to do with it. That was when Sam was given the idea to play for you. In the meantime you could feel your body changing and see the lines being etched into your face.

“No. No.” Dean cut his brother off straight away. “You’re not good enough. I’m better, Y/N's way better. We both lost.”

“What so I don’t get a say in this anymore? Dean can’t play so I’m the only option we got. I’ve watched you hustle plenty of poker games. Hell, that’s how Y/N learnt-”

“Sammy.” You pleaded. You knew that if this went wrong everything you did would have been for nothing. “Please. No.”

“Y/N. We can’t just let you… you’ll die. We’re going to find you a way out of this. I promise.”

“Take it.” The blonde woman, the one from the bar and the witch’s apartment, was perched on your bed as the three of you hustled back into the room. Dean’s fingers instinctively reached for the gun he had tucked in his waistband. “It’ll help.”

Sam took the parchment gingerly, turning it over in his hands before reading the messy handwriting scrawled across the page. “What is this?”

“The most powerful reversal spell you’ve ever laid your eyes on.”

“And it reverses what?” Dean asked.

“Patrick’s work. All of it.”

“You saying she could be normal again?” Your brother’s hand found your shoulder protectively.

“Her and everyone else he’s ever played.” She said before adding “who’s still alive.”

“Why the hell should we trust you?” Sam scowled.

“Trust me, don’t trust me. I don’t care.” She stood and made her way to the door. “The spell is real.”

“If it zaps everyone, doesn’t that include your man?” Dean asked.

“And me too.” She shrugged, “I look good for my age.”

“Lady, this don’t add up for shit.” Dean said. “Why would you want that?”

“I have my reasons.” her hand went to fiddle with the silver locket around her neck before she fled. “Do it quickly. We leave town tomorrow.”

The spell hadn’t worked.

When Dean tossed the toothpick Sam had smuggled him into the flames he looked up at you with a hopeful glint in his eyes but nothing happened. You didn’t get younger. And Sam was still betting his life away against that witch.

You could feel it now, the way your life was slowly slipping away. At first you didn’t really notice it, but as soon as you began pursuing Patrick, you knew your end was approaching quickly. You supposed that ‘when you least expected’ was a lot closer than you expected. The thought made you bitter as you shuffled into the car, wincing at the way your joints ached the way they would after a long hunt or session at the gym.

Dean glanced at you through Baby’s mirror as he sped down the road towards Patrick’s apartment in search of some more of his DNA. His concern grew as you climbed the stairs much slower than you would usually have done and as you entered his room.

The two of you searched quickly, looking anywhere for a speck of something that might contain just a speck of his DNA. another one of those toothpicks or something. Albeit the pair of you were struggling to find anything.

And then it is you. All at once your joints popped and clicked as your body changed suddenly. You cried out in pain as your brother ran to your side to catch you before you could hit the ground.

“No. No. Not yet.”

You blinked up at him as you struggled to breath, your heart slowing as your body forgot how to function.

“Dean…” Your voice faded as he cradled you in his arms. Your breaths slowing and your eyes fluttering.

“No.” His voice broke as he fumbled for his phone. “No you hang on sweetheart. Come on Sammy, pick up!”

There was no answer as Dean’s phone rang and went straight through to Sam’s voicemail. “Son of a bitch!” he exclaimed as he through his phone across the room, tears streaming down his face as he clung to you. Watching your chest slowly rise and fall. Up and down…up and down…up..and…down…up-

There was nothing after that. You lay morbidly still in his arms as your body ceased to function.

“No! Y/N. I can’t lose you now. Please….”

You did not move and the room was filled with the sound of your big brother’s grief and he sobbed. And then, you took a gasping breath and sat up abruptly in his arms.

Your body had returned to normal. The extra wrinkles around your eyes and the grey hairs gone. Your breaths were steady and your heart was strong.

“Y/N/N?” He whispered.

“Dean?” Your eyes searched him. “Sammy did it.”

“Yeah.” He breathed out, squeezing you tightly. “I knew he would.”

Dean’s phone began to ring from across the room. Reluctantly, he peeled himself away from you as he moved to get it, though his attention never strayed far from you.”

“Dean?!” You heard your other brother over the speakers. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah. You did it, Sam. She’s going to be just fine.”

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deanbrainrotwritings · 1 year ago

Text

— CITY GROWN WILLOW

SUMMARY : in which dean doesn’t die in 15.20 and he’s a stay-at-home dad (hot as hell) and the reader works at a company (vague as hell).

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : dylan (OMC), andy (OMC), daphne (OFC)

WARNINGS/TAGS : nsfw(18+), smut, pregnant sex, oral sex, fluff, ANGST, sexual harassment

WORD COUNT : 7.1K

A/N : title from radio company’s song. I wrote this while rewatching the Winchesters 😭 god, I miss dean so bad. also, I edited this while watching she-hulk when it was airing. anyway, enjoy this long masterpiece since I’ve been neglecting y’all :( X

Y/N chuckled softly at her colleague Dylan. He’d been a good friend for two and a half years. Ever since he started to work for her, he’d been really helpful and cooperative, taking the lead when she wasn’t there to make sure everything was still as it should be.

They had a meeting to talk about a project he wanted to speak to her about and Y/N had accepted his request to hear him out. She was a little confused by the fancy place he’d chosen, but she’d gone anyway and left Dean with the twins and Mavis. He’d whined and pouted adorably before kissing her goodbye even though he knew days before she’d be busy that night.

She’d been nervous for a month. And yeah, maybe she accepted Dylan’s offer because she didn’t want Dean to see her naked, or more.. the bump that started to show which she hid beneath loose dresses like the current black kimono dress her best friend Daphne got her for Christmas.

She made multiple excuses the whole month to not be near Dean, either in the morning or the night, when he was still awake, but she made up for it by buying him gifts and having lunch with him during his break. Innocently, no funny business. And she’d told no one she’s pregnant, as if it made it any less real that she was carrying a baby inside her when the last one she and Dean had was barely five years old.

She wasn’t sure she could handle it or that Dean could—but mostly, she didn’t think she could.

So, she declined the red wine Dylan ordered for her—which irritated her a little because he knew she never drank in the first place. And she didn’t make a big deal out of it, chalked it up to his busy mind forgetting, and slowly started to eat her meal while listening to him talk about things that had nothing to do with work. She let him talk about whatever he wanted to because the more time she wasted at the restaurant with him, the less chance she had of seeing Dean—well, the less chance she had to spend the whole night lying to him about the fact that she was pregnant.

Dylan relaxed a little against the booth, but she remained tense, her mind racing about the thought of her being pregnant but also about how to tell Dean. That’s how she’d spent most of her month. Her mind was someplace else, but her body was still in reality, automatically being attentive so no one would ask her what was wrong. Although, she may have missed the hints Dylan had been throwing her way, comments about how she looked more beautiful than usual, and how she was the perfect woman a man could ask for.

She’d shrugged it off the way she usually did, not really wanting to deal with the fact that her friend was literally flirting with her. Mostly, not wanting to accept that the only reason he got close to her was because he had romantic feelings for her, knowing in full that she was married and had kids. But especially not wanting to think too hard about the way he’s tried touching her, knowing she was married, but also, knowing that she didn’t like to be touched. And though she should have paid more attention, should have talked to Dylan directly instead of saying ‘stop’ or ‘no’, after she recoiled from his touch and shoved him off of her when he’d go for it again with a little more force… she didn’t think she needed to say more since she had made it clear that his advances were undesired on her part.

When she dumped work and projects on him so he could take half of what she had on her plate—a clear sign that he was just a colleague and a friend to her, she’d imagined he’d hate her. Instead, he took it as her wanting to spend time with him. Even though when he got her to talk, all she could talk about was Dean and her kids. When he’d make unpleasant comments about Dean’s job or the way Dean dressed, she’d defend her husband with a little confusion and ferocity while Dylan just laughed it off and claimed he was joking.

If she thought about it too hard, it hurt so bad on top of the fact that she was too stressed with being in charge of the Space Technology and Exploration section of Morningstar Industries, making sure her kids were doing good in school and knowing she was present in their lives, but also making sure she wasn’t fully neglecting her wonderful husband who truly didn’t deserve that she was lying to him.

Then, she’d been afraid for a while when she’d spoken to the board director, Andy, her close friend, and blurted out how uncomfortable Dylan had been making her feel with his words and his actions. He’d stared at her worriedly, anger darkening his eyes which she’d nearly missed, and then she forgot about it in between all her work and the mess in her brain.

But it all seemed so much worse at night. When she’d return from work, when she’d cry in the shower, and then laid in bed with her mind racing endlessly so she’d wake up as exhausted as she’d been before she slept.

There were too many things and her temper was short, overstimulated by all the tiny things that she could usually handle a little better than she had recently. And she dreaded to think of the possibility that she’d hurt Dean’s feelings, or Wanda’s, or Bruce’s, or Mavis’. And she worried about having done something wrong when she signed off on projects or something else because she simply wasn’t retaining the information on the endless sheets of paper.

She even had a copious amount of work and projects that she left half-finished, which was mostly normal, but it had now piled up to being too much, and when Dylan offered to help her, he’d been like a hero to her. He took most of the weight, but clearly expected something from her that she was never going to give.

When he’d finished and she’d abandoned her plate of food, only capturing the first and last topic he’d spoken of—which was typical as well—she’d smiled at him tightly. She was so good at pretending she’d listen because she usually could. Typically, she missed a few bits and pieces of information—since her mind went off to think of something to add to what the other person said, where she’d stop herself outwardly, but internally continued her own monologue and completely forgot about what the person was saying, which was never her intention.

Dylan leaned forward slightly, his eyes suddenly different, his soft and slightly moist hand landing on top of hers—specifically the one that had the white gold wedding band and engagement ring Dean picked out. She froze, stared into his icy blue eyes with her breath caught in her throat, suddenly all her thoughts were silent, but just for a moment before they started up again thinking of all the things this could mean.

“I didn’t just want to talk about work…” he started, his soft voice made her stomach churn and she didn’t know if it was the fact that she was pregnant, stressed, if it was the food she partially ate, or simply the disgust she felt knowing where this was going. “We’ve been spending a lot of time together and I.. well, I always thought you were breathtaking and.. I think you feel the same about me… you know? I.. I’m in love with you…”

She had to swallow the bit of bile that raised up her oesophagus, sweat breaking out on her hairline, her heart beating fast. She moved her hand out from under his and his cheek twitched with irritation when she reached for her glass of icy water and downed all of it. The cold liquid swished around her insides and she felt too suffocated, grateful that people were mostly quiet, that the tables were separated from each other, and that the lights were mostly dim because she would have had a fit and left dramatically from overstimulation.

He cleared his throat and she looked up from the white cloth that covered the table, his long dirty blond hair fell over one half of his face and he chuckled nervously, reaching over to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“I’m married,” she reminded him lamely, recoiling at his touch. His hand froze midair and he wrapped it around her wrist where her electronic watch rested. He played with the magnet of the steel band and scooted forward across the table until she could smell the wine in his breath.

She really had been so oblivious all this time.

When the watch turned on to reveal a picture of Dean carrying both Wanda and Bruce when she’d given birth to them, he glared at it. Guilt from lying to Dean and shame from having missed all the signs of harassment burned up her throat to the tips of her ears.

“Lots of married people have affairs,” he commented offhandedly. Her lips parted in shock, her brain moving slowly when he slid around the booth to sit next to her. Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest, fearful when his hand appeared on her knee, his thumb brushing against the inside of her thigh.

“I’m pregnant,” she blurted out. He froze, staring at her in surprise, but he had something for that too somehow. While she felt a sense of relief saying it out loud, the fear that had frozen her in her seat still hadn’t dissipated.

“That’s not a problem,” he said calmly, leaning forward, but she moved back until his hand stopped her by covering the back of her neck to pull her towards him again. “People can still have sex when they’re pregnant.. Stop playing hard to get, I know you want me.” Suddenly all her weakening emotions flew out of her body until anger boiled over her blood. She got up abruptly and glared at him, shoving the table into him, trapping him from escaping and also making her neglected wine glass tip over to stain his suit in red. “What the fuck?!” He hissed angrily, failing to even budge the table away from his body.

“I’ve told you over and over again not to touch me,” she spat, “and if the way I always moved away from you wasn’t a fucking obvious sign that you disgust me, I hope this helps: you’re fucking fired.” She picked up her bag and shoved the chair she’d been sitting in with the back of her knees until it nearly fell over. Suddenly people looked at them and Dylan looked away from her, smiling as if everything was okay, but there was anger in his eyes when he looked up at her.

“You liked it, you whore,” he growled, shame wrenched her heart and tears pooled in her eyes, “stop victimising yourself when you’ve been leading me on for two years.” Instead of saying anything, her tongue heavy in her mouth, she turned quickly and made her way out of the restaurant. His words stabbed her chest until she couldn’t breathe because she suddenly felt like she should have done so much more to stop him and she began imagining all the times she’d shrugged him off but should have been more clear and assertive about not wanting his touch.

Maybe it was her fault after all and she shouldn’t be complaining.

“Miss!” A woman’s voice stopped her as she shoved the glass door open, a sob tearing its way out of her throat when the cold air pricked her hot skin. “Are you okay, dear?” The lady asked softly, keeping a safe distance as Y/N cried quietly, looking at the ground in shame and embarrassment. “Honey, pass me your handkerchief,” she ordered and footsteps came closer and Y/N only felt the soft cotton collect and absorb her hot tears.

“I need to get home,” Y/N whispered, trying to smile, but she knew not a muscle in her face relaxed as she looked at the older woman and her husband.

“You shouldn’t be driving right now,” her husband spoke up worriedly. Y/N glanced over at him and felt another wave of pain pour through her eyes with heat and salty stings just from the kindness that seemed to crack and burst out all the emotions she’d been pushing down for a month.

“Oh, darling,” the woman spoke softly, gently taking Y/N’s purse from her tight grip and fishing her phone out easily. “Is this your husband?” She quickly accessed Y/N’ contacts and went to the emergency list with Dean’s name at the top, with a squirrel and a green leaves emojis. Y/N nodded, embarrassed, and took the handkerchief with the initials H.H. to wipe her own tears even though now, she couldn’t stop them from spilling uncontrollably.

While Y/N continued to look down in shame, people walked around them, minding their business. Even people who clearly saw the scene were exiting the restaurant and ignoring them, too. She relaxed when the woman’s expensive and warm perfume engulfed her, reminding Y/N of her mother when she rubbed her gentle hand up and down her back. Y/N’ phone rang once and Dean picked up.

“Sweetheart?” His voice was deep with sleep and warmth melted her heart and sweetened the bitterness when the sound flowed to her heart like honey and tea, but the tears kept falling as she cried silently in the woman’s arms.

“Hi, I’m Jan,” she started but Dean immediately cut her off.

“Where’s my wife?” She heard the panic and guardedness in his voice and she nearly took the phone knowing all the worst possible scenarios that rushed through his mind, but the woman smiled fondly.

“I’m here with her,” Jan reassured him. “Could you come pick her up? She’s…” Jan gazed at Y/N, her gaze piercing her walls as if she knew everything but also, failing to find the words to not invalidate or exaggerate Y/N’s experience and emotions. “You should be here. My husband and I are staying here with her and we won’t leave her side until you’ve here, she’s safe with us. You have my word.”

Dean was silent and Y/N didn’t know if he was frozen in fear like she’d been minutes before or if he was leaving the house in a hurry until heard him thank Jan while breathing heavily and heard the familiar creak of the Impala’s doors before he said goodbye, promising to be there as quickly as he could.

And he did. But not fast enough to have witnessed Dylan shamelessly try to get to her. But Y/N was glad he didn’t because she was humiliated enough already and felt so much gratitude towards both Jan and her husband. Her husband, Harry, who had shoved and insulted Dylan, then threatened to plaster his name in the paper for what he’d witnessed him doing.

The beautiful rumble of Dean’s car made her heart leap with relief and excitement, fleeting emotions that were replaced with the same bitter ones when she saw him in his pyjamas, the bags under his eyes, and the worry that deepened his frown and creased between his brows when he saw that she had been crying.

Dean quickly jogged towards her, looking at both Jan and Harry with confusion and wariness until Jan slowly let Y/N walk weakly towards Dean. Jan’s heart was both breaking and melting when Y/N slumped against Dean’s body, crying again—as hard as she had when she stepped out of the restaurant.

Dean held her tight, kissed her temple and let her calm down in his embrace. The kind couple stepped forward like a wall that gave them privacy from the few people that watched what was happening. The tiredness Dean felt was replaced with adrenaline, but upon finding Y/N safe from physical harm, he allowed himself to just be there for her, hurting about the fact that something else had harmed her, something that he couldn’t kill or fight off.

“Let’s get her in your car, son,” Harry suggested, smiling kindly at Dean. Dean nodded and hesitantly pulled away, refusing to look at the anguish on Y/N’ face so he could remain strong. He let Jan guide Y/N into the passenger seat, keeping an ear open for the way she spoke quietly and kindly to Y/N before he spoke to Harry.

“What happened?” Dean asked, the feeling of inadequacy making him cross his arms over his chest, covering the white t-shirt Y/N had given him as a joke a few Christmases ago.

“I…” Harry paused, glancing over at his wife and at Y/N. “A man she was having dinner with just.. treated her terribly and said such horrendous things. My wife and I heard most of it… He was out of line, completely disgusting, and was a huge, immature asshole.” Dean’s jaw clenched and he glared over Harry’s shoulder, behind holes into the glass building. Had Dean been Superman, the entire building would have been demolished. “Son?” Harry broke Dean’s glare and patted his shoulder. “I could have that man’s reputation destroyed. When your wife opens up, give her time.. give me a call.” He handed Dean a card and Dean took it nodding while he read Harry Holden, the newspaper name, his email, and number on the other side.

“Thanks, sir, truly,” Dean finally told him, getting in the driver’s seat and waving goodbye to the two people that gave him hope that there were truly kind people out there, people who still do the bare minimum and also go out of their way to do something good just for the sake of decency.

Y/N played with her dress and avoided Dean’s gaze, flinching a little when he put his hand on her knee. Dean felt hurt for a second, then composed himself as he drove away, deciding quickly that they should stay somewhere else for the time being, until she felt better.

He stopped at a rather expensive hotel and saw her finally look at him, confused mostly by his decision. Her face devastated his heart more than any tragedy he’d faced because he wasn’t used to seeing Y/N the way she looked now. His heart sank to the deepest pit as if turning his skin inside out, leaving his heart bare and broken until it stopped beating, unable to start up again.

“D…” she whispered. Her cold hands on his face brought him back to his senses, thoughts about his actions ran through his mind and suddenly he found himself synchronised with her.

“I’m calling Daph,” he told her, shoving his hands into his pockets and calling Daphne who picked up nearly as quickly as he had, tiredness coating her voice along with a yawn. “Hey, I need to ask for a favour,” he started.

“Sure, Dean-o,” she mumbled.

“Could you check on the kids?” He asked, then elaborated. “Y/N and I are… we’re gonna be away from home for a few days.. is that asking too much? I’m sorry, I know it’s sudden-”

“Dean, don’t stress about it,” she reassured him. “I’ll be there in ten, you don’t have to explain, you know I’d do anything for the two of you.” Dean sighed a breath of relief and relaxed, too afraid to look at Y/N.

“Thanks so much, you’re… the best friend we could ask for.”

“Don’t mention it. Love you guys, be safe!”

Dean sat in silence for a while before taking his wallet and pulling out his card to pay for the room. Y/N let him take control of the situation even though she wanted to argue and not be far from home, but maybe she needed this. A little getaway with her husband to finally tell him she was pregnant and to ease his mind about what had happened because now that she was calm, she felt ridiculous and ashamed.

“Come on, baby, take your heels off,” he spoke softly, leaning over to open the door before he locked the car. He got out and jogged around the front to get to her side, opened the door and picked her up bridal style.

Dean made his way to the hotel and smiled at the young man at the front desk, tucking Y/N’ head into his neck, her arms holding him tightly as he made his way to the elevator without a word and to their room, both of them practically empty-handed with her purse dangling off his shoulder.

“I wanna shower,” she murmured when he set her down on the bed. He only turned the lamps on so it wasn’t too bright and she appreciated it. He nodded and started to undo the belt around her waist, taking note of her tense body, so he slowed down and stopped unbuttoning the dress.

“Is this okay?” He whispered, waiting for her to speak up before he made a single move. She nodded and whispered her consent, letting him unbutton the black dress all the way, pushing it off her shoulders, his eyes glued to the thin, gold necklace her brother gave her on her birthday.

He expertly unclasped her lace bra, his fingers brushing gently across her skin made her shiver pleasantly as he removed it. His eyes fell to her breasts but he kept his mind out of the gutter, watched her put her hands flat on the bed and lift her hips for him to remove her matching black panties.

It was so intimate. He inadvertently turned both of them on.

His fingernails gently grazed the skin of her hips, their breaths growing heavy, his fingers slowly pulled the lace down her legs and off her feet. He didn’t dare to make anything sexual, as much as he wanted to fuck his worry and adrenaline away, he was being more mindful of what she needed.

He helped her up and didn’t stare at her naked body when he removed his shirt and pyjamas, only a little embarrassed that he wasn’t wearing any boxers. He led her to the bathroom as he warmed up the shower, his hand extended to get the water to the right temperature. She bit her lip anxiously in the meantime, her arms keeping her small bump out of view, tears building up again when he turned to face her.

His face fell and his beautiful hands were on her face, holding her jaw as gently as he’d hold a baby bird. His arms wrapped around her small frame, holding her close, comforting her with his arms loose around her waist to not overwhelm her. She felt a powerful surge of love and affection for the man and blurted out what had been stressing her out.

“I’m pregnant.” He gasped and pulled away to look her in the eyes and then down at the tiny little bump on her stomach that he missed when stripping her. “I’m sorry, I’ve known for a month and I’m just scared-”

“It’s okay, baby,” he reassured her, shushing her.

“No, I… I’ve been a horrible wife,” she sobbed, wiggling out of his arms. He easily let her go to have her space, keeping his own tears at bay while watching her with despair.

“No, you haven’t,” he argued softly.

“Yeah and a bad mother. Everything’s my fault.” He shook his head, kissing her cheek softly, his lips moving over the expanse of her face, reaching her lips for his final destination.

“I’m thrilled that you’re pregnant, okay? I truly am.” He reassured her. “And I know how stressful it can be for you to be pregnant and I know how much you worry about me and the kids, but we can handle it, sweetheart.” She continued to cry quietly, his thumbs gently wiping away her tears. “They love you so much, I love you so much, and you’re the most amazing mother they could have asked for, just like you’re the most amazing wife in the entire universe, hell maybe the best out of every universe.”

“Whatever happened tonight sweetheart… I’m so sorry. I…” he sighed, pressing his forehead against hers, his eyes shut as he breathed shakily.

“It’s not your fault,” she whispered, taking his breaded jaw in her hand to kiss him chastely. “I think I was just overreacting… my hormones, you know how they get… wonky,” she tried smiling, pulling away to watch him shake his head.

“If two people watched what happened and took time out of their night to help you, you weren’t overreacting,” he told her firmly. “I know you usually deal with things by dissociating or detaching from it and downplaying your feelings, but I’m not letting you do that. Just like you don’t let me do it.” She blinked at him, feeling a new wave of emotions followed by gratitude and love. “We don’t need to talk about it right now and there’s no deadline, but just talk to someone—or me when you’re ready, instead of pushing it down or invalidating yourself from how hurt you are about it.” He smiled at her gently, lovingly kissing her forehead and stepped into the shower, while holding her hand so she’d join him as she regained most of her wits.

“I love you, Dean,” she whispered, feeling like those words simply weren’t enough to describe the amount of affection that bloomed in her chest like a trillion galaxies being born.

“I know,” he smiled playfully, holding her close when she followed him inside the foggy stall. She smiled softly at him and shook her head, standing beneath the shower head with him, the hot water comforting as it hit her skin and relaxed her muscles.

He took care of her the whole time, wiping away the eyeliner that was now messy, but otherwise her face was bare, the red liquid tint on her lips having faded away at this point, leaving her lips a cotton candy colour. He smiled lovingly at her, leaning down to kiss her passionately before he washed her hair and then her body while keeping himself mostly dry.

“There,” he chuckled, bumping the bottom of her chin gently with his finger curled. “Good girl,” he murmured, turning the shower off, reaching out for one of the towels to wrap around her, letting her dry herself off so he could do the same to himself.

“Thanks,” she smiled at him tiredly, drying her hair with the towel and stepping back into the bedroom, standing in front of him when he slipped on his pyjama pants again, and handed her his shirt to sleep in. The white shirt with The Avongers and bootleg Avengers characters over the chest made her smile and she watched him get the bed ready.

His muscles flexed when he tugged the soft sheets from how tightly they fit the bed, his tiny waist and his broad shoulders when he turned his back to her distracted her from putting the shirt on. Instead, she checked him out, his firm ass in the soft pyjama pants, the muscles in his back moving beneath his skin, the dip of his spine down his back one of the most beautiful things she’d seen. When he turned to his side, his stomach--just a little soft--became taut with his efforts, lost in his mind as he freed the gold and white satin sheets.

His huge arms continued to tighten as he travelled to the other side of the bed, the v-line going down his hips caused her teeth to bite down at her lip. Even his pecs right now were doing wonders, his thick fingers wrapping around the sheets and tugging expertly that she didn’t even care that she was staring at him shamelessly, the ring on his finger was probably the hottest thing right now.

That was her husband.

The man who grew out his beard, something she thought she’d hate until the coarse hairs actually ended up feeling arousing between her legs and against her breasts. The man who kept his hair a little longer just for her, soft between her fingers and so pullable. The way the soft strands of his honey-coloured hair fell over his magnificent face looked like streams of sunlight in the spring, his mossy green eyes likes a forest of utter beauty that no one could compare to, and his freckles were a thousand constellations that glowed like gold dust along the canvas of his face.

His pretty plump lips were a shade darker now from having bitten them due to his focus on releasing the sheets from the tight embrace around the mattress, and wet from his soft tongue. He’d innocently looked up at her, expecting her to have been ready for bed, but instead he found her aroused, her cheeks pink and her nipples tight, her breathing heavy and short.

He caught her eyes as they teased his body, a shaky breath making its way past her parted lips, the most breathtaking crinkles appeared around his eyes when he chuckled, gracing her with a shy smile. “What?” He asked softly, pink flushing his cheeks up to the tips of his ears.

“You know it always turns me on to see you do anything, especially shirtless,” she murmured casually, feeling no confidence to actually tease him the way she usually did and feeling disgusted with herself from the events that unfolded in the past month to even feel any pleasure from him. So she looked away and was about to put his shirt on when he stopped her.

“Don’t.” He made his way to her, grabbing the shirt and throwing it across the room and onto the couch a few feet away from them.

“I haven’t shaved,” she gasped, kissing him back when he pressed his lips against hers, soft and warm. He quickly parted his lips to deepen the kiss. His tongue teasingly moved into her mouth when she’d opened up to him instantly despite her weak argument, knowing that Dean wasn’t the type of man who actually required a woman to look a specific way.

He wrapped his arm around her waist to hold her close, a little moan from him muffled by her mouth against his. She gave into him without hesitation, her arms circling around his neck, her fingers tugging gently at the short hairs behind his head, soft the way they always were. An appreciative hum rumbled in his chest, her entire body stretched up to reach her tall husband.

He turned them both around so her back faced the bed instead of his, pulling away from the kiss for his lips to travel down her neck. His hot breath and wet tongue licked at her clean skin and sucked gently at her pulse. He made his way down her neck and bit her shoulder possessively. She buried her fingers into his downy hair, closing her eyes, her chest rising and falling quickly from lustful breaths she took.

He loosened his arms from around her waist and held the beautiful curve of it in his large hands, his fingers brushing gently against her ribcage. He moved his mouth down to her breasts, and she instinctively arched her back so he didn’t have to bend over her so much. It turned him on, in his mind, that one move was her offering herself to him completely.

He moved his hands up to cup her breasts in his hands, the warmth and roundness of them in his large palms nearly made him believe she was small chested. His fingers gently brushed around her nipples, his warm breath puffing over them so she could feel them tighten before he even did anything. His lips wrapped around one, his teeth gently scraping along her sensitive flesh while his tongue mimicked his fingers, feeling the texture of her silky flesh against his wet tongue.

He sucked on it gently, his hands squeezed both her breasts, but he quickly pinched and tweaked the other one, reaching down to squeeze her fleshy ass. She moaned softly, her thigh gently passing between his legs and rubbing his stiff cock. A moan rippled out of him and he blindly chased her hand when he switched the stimulation of her breasts, putting his mouth on the other and letting the room temperature do its work on her glistening nipple.

He guided her hand into his pants, biting down roughly on her flesh when she brushed her fingers down the length of him. She whined at the bite, rubbing her thighs together awkwardly to feel some relief, his heavy cock resting in her small hand. She wanted to be doing this to him, touching him teasingly for all the neglect he endured on her side.

She tugged at his hair once, moving both of her hands to his hips and lowered his pyjamas so they slipped down his legs easily. Before she could do anything more, he stepped out of them and dropped to his knees, his lips kissing down between her breasts, over her growing belly and finally to her pelvis.

She cupped his jaw and moved his gaze away from between her legs, an embarrassed look on her face because she usually kept herself either completely shaved or trimmed. He grabbed her hand and kissed her wrist to ease her unsteadiness. He then moved her hands away from his jaw and onto his head so he could taste her, so she could pull at his hair.

He gently pushed her thighs apart with the backs of his hands, only slightly. He moved forward experimentally, the curly hairs tickling his nose and she felt embarrassed the whole time, her grip on his hair tightening and she looked away when heat grew up her neck to the tips of her ears. The last time she was that bushy, she was in university and completely uninterested in romance, but ever since Dean—despite him never asking for it—she would shave. And despite him never showing or voicing a preference, she never stopped doing it.

Dean liked it. Right now, like this.

His fingers parted her warm folds and he found her clit easily. A hissed curse slipped past her lips when his tongue flicked against it, teasingly lapping up and down. She moved back until her knees hit the bed and his eyes were glued on her every move. He disappointedly licked his lips but excitement reignited the flame in his green eyes when she laid down and spread her legs for him.

Usually her stomach would cave in when she laid down on her back, but this time, the tiny bump remained and his heart softened, crawling forward to kiss her knees. He lifted her feet up on the bed, staring between her legs and parting her folds with his fingers, licking away at her clit and her entrance.

He watched her writhe under his mouth the way she always did when he teased her. He knew it wasn’t strange to find it arousing. This was his woman, his love, his wife.

He squeezed her thighs with his warm hands, moaning softly against her centre which made her laugh softly. He pulled away from her, smiling at the sound, “move up, angel,” he ordered gently as he stood up. She obeyed quietly, stopping only when he firmly wrapped his fingers around her ankle, his thumb brushing against the protruding bone.

He moved forward, picking up the pillows above her head with the intention of elevating her hips. She instantly knew what he had planned and lifted her hips so he could slide them under her hips, stacked and cushiony. “Ready?” He asked softly, making his way between her legs.

She nodded, gasping when he swiped three fingers from her entrance to her folds, only to bring them to his cock. She blinked at him, turned on when he bit his lip, jerking himself slowly with her arousal, her breath stuttering the moment he moaned. Her toes curled at the sound, her pussy clenching around nothing the way it always did when she so much as looked his way. It didn’t even have to be a sexual situation, which she found embarrassing, and she had never admitted it to him.

He guided his cock to her entrance, smiling down at her way too adorably while the soft head of his cock circled her soaked centre. He gently pushed himself into her and back out, her walls took him in slowly, wetting his dick more and more. He looked between her legs completely unabashed, his lip trapped between his teeth as he watched himself disappear inside her as if he hadn’t seen her take him a thousand other times before.

Still, he was fascinated with how he stretched her open, her tiny cunt opening up to fit all of him the way it always did. She was tight and warm, completely soaking him with every push and pull of his cock, letting her feel every inch of him entering her, but also letting him revel in the velvet walls squeezing around him and creating quick pleasure to his cock.

“Fuck,” he whispered, bottoming out inside her. He bit his lip, his eyes trailing up her body and back down to where he was connected to her, gently pushing his hips into her, his thumb easily finding her clit within the dark curls.

“What?” She asked softly, studying his face, laughter in her eyes when his eyes snapped up to hers innocently.

“You’ve never felt more mine than right now, baby,” he murmured, slowly pulling out of her and then back inside before she could respond to him. As much as he wanted to take his time with her, he knew she would be exhausted tomorrow from her emotions tonight, so he went straight for getting her off. His thumb rubbing gently at her sensitive clit, changing the shapes he made every once in a while until she orgasmed.

The feeling of her walls squeezing his cock drew a deep groan from within his chest. His cock was coated in her cum when he pulled out of her, and his own release followed suit when he pushed back into her warmth. He cursed long and softly, brows drawn together in pleasure as she clung to him, both of them riding the seemingly endless pleasure like gravitational waves after the collision of neutron stars.

Her nails dug marks into his soft skin and she gently released him, watching the exquisite look on his face. The rapture that made her insides tighten deliciously. His lips were parted still, completely breathless. His cheeks were pink and his whole body was hot, covered in a nearly unnoticeable amount of sweat.

He was so beautiful.

“You actually like it?” She asked, flustered when he pulled out of her, their cum oozing out of her, only for him to gently shove a finger into her to keep his cum inside. She clenched around him, familiar with him doing that after he came inside her, which was definitely a reason why she was pregnant so soon.

“What?” He shrugged casually, pulling the pillows from beneath her hips and throwing them carelessly against the headboard. “Yes, okay? Maybe you should let it grow sometimes. It’s hot.” He grinned, leaning over her to kiss her forehead before he stood up to clean her, but also to get the shirt he’d intended for her to wear and to put his pyjama pants on again.

“I think you’re the only one who thinks that,” she called out. It was silent for a few moments as the water from the sink ran in the bathroom loudly and Dean came back with a hand towel and moved between her legs again.

“No, Charlie liked it too,” he revealed, a little smirk on his face when she chuckled. He started to clean her up, gazing down at her in his shirt now, looking completely adorable and comfortable. “And I’m pretty sure more people like it,” he reassured her, playful patting the top of her head. She narrowed her eyes at him despite thinking it felt cute and smiled. She watched him get up to clean himself and discard the towel before returning to her side.

He fixed the pillows on the bed and turned the lamps off so they could lie down and fall asleep comfortably.

He snuck his hand under her shirt, tickling her a little when he rested his hand over her tummy, something he’d always do when she was pregnant. “Wanna pick names?” He asked quietly, scooting so close to her while on his side, he almost reminded her of Bruce, who usually curled up at her side trying to get impossibly close to her.

“Sure,” she smiled softly in the darkness.

“How about Castiel?” He suggested a name immediately and she cringed, chuckling.

“No, Garth already named his kid Castiel,” she told him, which caused him to laugh softly.

“How about… Cassidy?”

“You want a name that starts with C?” She asked, then took his silence and the little nod by her shoulder as a sign for her to give him some examples of what she had in mind. “Like… Casanova? No, Calvin? No, wait, Cara? Caroline? Or Cassian? Casper? Nah, I’m just kidding about that one. Clark? Uh, Casimiro?” She offered, shrugging a little at the end with an amused grin, his hand slowly rubbing along the small curve of her stomach.

“Definitely not Casanova,” he chuckled and she shrugged, laughing. “Ah, right,” he clicked his tongue and she stared at him lovingly. “Cassidy sounds dumb… I’m just gonna ignore Casper. And what the fuck is a Casimiro? I like Clark for a boy and… we can come up with more names for a girl…” She smiled and hummed softly. “I hope we get to have Bruce and Clark, heheh,” he commented cutely.

“You’re so adorable,” she mumbled with a smile, kissing the top of his head. She closed her eyes while trying to picture what her next child will look like. Dean blushed, nuzzling her lovingly as sleep reclaimed him, thinking the same thing as her.

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 9 months ago

Text

The Dangers of Hope Ch. 10

Series Summary: When Y/N shows up at Camp Chitaqua with her little girl in tow, her bloodshot eyes leave no doubt that she's infected. Or is she? Everything Dean has come to know for certain over the last five hellish years, is about to be challenged.

Pairings/Characters in the series: Endverse!Dean x Reader, Emma (OFC), Castiel, Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Michael, Zachariah, Risa, Johnston (OMC), Patrick (OMC), Theresa (OFC), other survivors and soldiers.

Series Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Show level violence, some gore, angst, smut, fluff all the usual for a series of mine. ❤️ Endverse!Dean (that's a warning for his anger and callousness as well as his extreme hotness. 😁) Each chapter will have their own specific warnings.

Chapter Warnings: Angst, show level violence

Word Count: 7,447

A/N: So, I've had this idea for quite a while. Basically since I watched The Last of Us. I loved Pedro in the role of Joel, but I kept thinking how incredible Jensen would have been. Which then made me think of how amazing he was as Endverse!Dean which then led me to this idea. Lol! I've stolen the premise of Ellie's storyline from TLOU, but made her a grown up, a reader insert, and a love interest for Dean.

If you've never seen TLOU, don't worry - you don't need to have seen it to understand this story. 😊

I've taken some liberties with the Endverse in my story, changed a few things from canon, but kept lots of things too.

I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. It will be ten chapters and I will do my very best to post one chapter every weekend. ❤️

A/N 2: Sorry again that this chapter got postponed a day. But here is the conclusion of the series. (Except for the epilogue coming next Saturday - or maybe a little earlier. 😉) I've absolutely loved writing this series. Loved living in the Endverse for a while, so thank you so much to everyone who came along with me. And an extra, super-duper thank you to everyone who commented and reblogged their thoughts about the story as we went along. Kind words fuel authors. ❤️ And oh yeah, this chapter's a bit long. Sorry! 😊

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Y/N didn’t want to look away, she wanted to keep her eyes on Dean. But the white light was absolutely blinding and she eventually had no choice but to turn away from it. The rush of white noise was almost deafening before becoming suddenly silent.

There was only darkness behind her eyelids now so Y/N opened her eyes and stood up straight, looking at Dean where he still stood, halfway between her and Zachariah. His back was to her and she took a step towards him.

“Dean?” She questioned quietly.

He turned slightly so he could see her over his shoulder. He peered at her for a moment, almost scientifically, before he gave his head a brief shake.

“No.”

Y/N would never be able to explain it, but somehow it was Dean’s face, Dean's voice, and yet it wasn’t him. Something was missing from his sparkling, jewel green eyes.

This was Michael. Dean was gone.

Without a moment’s pause, the archangel strode towards the other angels and in the span of a breath they were all gone, leaving behind only the sound of fluttering wings.

Y/N stood stock still, staring at the empty, open field where Dean had stood less than a minute before. Around her chaos began to spread. The people who’d been putting out the fire were rushing towards them now, trying to find out what was going on. Screams echoed as people saw Johnston lying dead on the ground.

Everyone was asking her questions, but she had no answers, she had no words. She just stood, as people rushed around her, feeling as though she’d wake up at any moment. She’d wake up and Dean’s arms would be around her and when he woke she’d tell him about the horrible dream and how scary it had been and he’d hold her gently and tell her it was all just a nightmare.

“...I have my arms wrapped tightly around you and we’re both safe…Close your eyes and stay there, in that moment.”

Dean’s soft words whispered their way into her mind and she shivered. This couldn’t be happening.

Without warning her knees buckled and she fell to the muddy, wet ground, her muscles simply going limp. She covered her face as more tears began to fall. She felt the weight of all her tears gathering in her chest, threatening to crush her, when suddenly she heard Risa calling her name.

When she looked up the soldier was standing over her, still holding Emma in her arms.

“Y/N, you can’t. You just can’t right now. Emma needs you, and I’ve got to… “ She waved an arm towards the people who were panicking all around them.

Y/N felt her mind rebelling, all she wanted was to sit there in the mud and let the cool night air numb her to the all-consuming ache spreading throughout her body.

But she looked up into Emma’s little, terrified face, and forced herself to really hear the horror and confusion all around her; she knew she couldn’t just fall apart.

She nodded at Risa and pushed herself to her feet. She took Emma from her and the other woman gave her a nod and moved into action, working with Cas and her fellow soldiers to start organizing the chaos, trying to get campers back to their tents. They also started debating how best to deal with the burnt out cabin and Johnston’s lifeless body

For her part, Y/N simply turned away from the cacophony and walked slowly back to the red tent. Emma was sobbing on her shoulder and Y/N gathered every ounce of her exhausted strength to try and console her little girl.

When they reached the tent Y/N set Emma down on her cot and wrapped a warm blanket around her while she went to light the stove and warm up the tent. After standing out in the cool night air for so long with no jackets, getting them warm was the first order of business.

Before long the little stove was chugging out ample heat, and she went back over to Emma and snuggled her daughter into her lap. After a while the little girl’s tears subsided into deep, shuddering breaths. Her voice was tiny and quiet when she spoke.

“Dean is gone.”

Y/N felt the whispered words pierce her heart. “Yeah, baby.”

“Will he come back?”

“Yes.” Y/N said it without thinking, her soul making the decision. But she didn’t want to lie to her child either, so she amended her comment. “I’m sure he’s going to try really hard to come back.”

Emma seemed to accept that and was quiet for a little while. Then she spoke again, her soft words tinged with fear.

“Did the bad man kill Eric?”

Y/N squeezed her tighter and nodded against the top of her head. “Yes, baby, because he’s a very bad man.”

“Will he come back to kill us?”

Y/N felt her stomach plummet with fear and heartbreak that her daughter’s mind was so clouded with terror.

Y/N shook her head. “No, baby. He won’t come back now.” She hoped she wasn’t lying.

“Because Dean saved us?”

Y/N felt as though her heart was being crushed. “Yeah, sweet pea, because Dean saved us.”

***

The next few days passed in a haze for Y/N. She was trying desperately to keep it together for Emma’s sake. Her daughter was having nightmares every night and the last thing she needed was her mother crumbling on her. But Y/N was barely sleeping, no more than a couple of hours a night. Every ounce of her being felt exhausted - worn out beyond measure.

There were no classes to teach, thank goodness; the camp was still disorganized and a bit scattered. A dozen or so campers had left, afraid of more angel retaliation. The campers left behind were trying to salvage what they could from the big cabin, and deal with the rest of the burnt out building.

Three days after Dean had gone, Cas came to their tent in the evening, carrying extra wood and asking Y/N if she needed anything.

“No, Cas, we’re good. You don’t have to worry about us.” She said with a forced smile.

“I told Dean I would take care of you.” He said with conviction. “It’s still cold at night, hence the wood. What else do you need?”

Y/N shook her head. “Nothing, Cas. Really.”

He lifted his chin towards Emma who was sleeping on her cot. “How is she?”

Y/N gave a small shrug. “She's trying to cope, like all of us.”

He nodded and then headed out. As he lifted the tent flap, Y/N called him back. When he turned his bright blue gaze on her she hesitated before asking the question that wouldn't leave her mind.

“Can we get him back? Somehow?”

Cas stared at her intensely for a moment before his eyes softened slightly; his deep voice was gentle as he spoke.

“We can hope.”

Y/N closed her eyes. “Yes. Hope.”

When she opened her eyes again, the angel was gone.

***

A week after Dean left they still hadn't figured out any way to get him back, or even how to find him. Cas had begun to hear angel radio again, but the angels were being very quiet. Just the odd remark here and there that made Cas believe that they were still in Kansas, but he couldn't be sure.

The camp had gone back to functioning - mostly. But people kept saying things like, “We’ll run it by the Boss and see what he says.” before realizing that was impossible. The soldiers were trying to run things smoothly between them, and Brandy was helping to keep things as organized as possible.

But Dean was very missed.

A full eight days after losing him, Y/N sat up at the table one night, desperately trying to think up a way to get Dean back to her. Her eyes were scratchy and red-rimmed as she let her head fall into her hands.

She may have fallen asleep right there if there hadn't been a sudden burst of white light. It lit up the tent, blinding her. As it faded slightly, she could just make out a man's shape. Her heart leapt for a moment before realizing this man was much too small to be Dean.

A deep booming voice spoke and shook the ground around them.

“Hail, thou that art highly favored, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women. Fear not, Y/N: for thou hast - Ow! Son of a bitch!”

The angel cut off his proclamation and held up his hands as Y/N smacked him repeatedly with a broom. The last of his angelic light went out like a candle and he grabbed the broom away from Y/N and snapped it with incredible ease.

“What the hell, lady?” He rubbed the side of his head where she'd walloped him. “You know that worked great with Mary. SHE knew how to be ‘sore afraid’.”

Y/N went to Emma's cot where her daughter was crying silently, obviously horrified to see another angel, inside their tent this time.

“Get out!” Y/N said with as much strength as she could muster.

“You really don't want that, trust me.” The angel said, his hazel eyes twinkling, a smirk on his thin lips.

“Who are you; what do you want?”

He gave a little bow. “Name’s Gabriel, but I prefer Loki.”

The tent flap opened and suddenly Cas was there with Risa and Patrick flanking him. But Cas pulled up short when he saw the other angel.

“Gabriel?”

“Hey, bro!” Gabriel said cheerfully.

Cas looked to the two soldiers on either side of him. “I'm fine here. You should patrol the area. Look for anything amiss or out of place. But don't approach it without me.”

Both soldiers gave a curt nod and left.

Cas came fully into the tent and his face was very wary. “Gabriel, what are you doing here? Where have you been for the last thousand Millenia or so? Most of us thought you were dead.”

“Nope.” Gabriel's voice was still nonchalant and cheery. “Just in a sort of witness relocation. Got sick to death of Daddy's beefs and Lucifer and Michael's petty squabbling. So, I took a little time off. Sailed around, saw the world, got myself a brand new face.”

He framed his face with his two hands. “Cute, right?”

Cas just frowned at him and Gabriel rolled his eyes. “You have never known how to have fun Castiel.”

Cas raised an eyebrow. “Well, these humans are under my protection, so I'll save the fun until after you tell me what you're doing here.”

Gabriel lost his smirk and he crossed his arms. “Isn't it obvious? I'm here to save the day, as always.”

Cas scoffed. “Not likely. You tend to sew chaos.”

Gabriel shrugged. “What can I say, it's a talent.” He moved back to lean against the table.

“But seriously, I'm so over this apocalypse. As soon as Lucy dumped his little virus on this world, I was outta here. No fun to be had with a bunch of humans barely clinging to life. So, I traveled near and far, all over the galaxy and a little bit further. It's been sort of fun. But let me tell you, there are only so many green-skinned, six-legged chicks you can bang before you start pining for home, you know?”

He gave his head a shake. “Don't know how Captain Kirk did it.”

“Get to the point, brother.” Cas said, annoyance lacing his tone.

“I'm here to help.”

“So you said. How?” Cas asked harshly.

Gabriel shrugged again. “I have a way to shove Lucifer and Michael into the cage.”

From his pocket he pulled out an oddly shaped object. It was an X made up of four circles, four rings, by the looks of it.

He held it up. “Borrowed these from the horsemen. Well,” he shrugged, “to be fair, only Death was willing to part with his, the others didn't wanna give ‘em up easily. But, you know, archangel trumps most. I was glad Death was so cooperative though, he woulda been a tough one to beat.”

Cas stepped up to him and held out his hand. Gabriel dropped the cross into it and Cas peered at it closely.

“The horsemen’s rings. What will this do?”

Gabriel's voice was quiet. “Keys to the cage, brother.”

Cas’ eyes widened. “Lucifer’s cage?”

Gabriel nodded. “And Michael’s too.” He paused for a beat. “And mine.”

Cas frowned. “Yours? Why would you throw yourself into the cage?”

Gabriel shrugged, but Y/N could see a flicker of some deep emotion pass over his mobile features.

“Someone’s gotta pull those two down there. And I’d say after millions of years, and untold damage to the world, me and my brothers could use some time alone and family therapy.”

He allowed a smile to turn up the corner of his mouth.”From what I understand old Raffy’s taken up as a god on some distant planet. He always did like to be worshiped.” He shrugged again, his smirk firmly back in place. “So, it’s just the three of us.”

Cas shook his head. “Why are you doing all of this, Gabriel?”

The archangel took back the key to the cage and slipped it into his pocket. “Told ya, got sick of banging green chicks on Mars.”

“No. That's…there are no green women on Mars.” Cas said, looking at Y/N as though to reassure her.

Y/N stood up and walked the few steps to where Gabriel stood, looking him straight in the eye. “Can you bring Dean back?”

Gabriel contemplated her for a moment and then shook his head. “No.”

Y/N felt her stomach lurch, and she opened her mouth to shout at him, but Gabriel held up a hand, patting his pocket with the other. “With this I can open the cage, and I can pull my brothers down with me to be locked away. But if you want Dean back, you’ve gotta get him to toss Michael first. Otherwise, his body and soul come down too.”

Y/N began to panic. “What are you talking about? You are not dragging Dean down to hell, no matter what!” She shouted, her fists balled. “I will not let you.”

Gabriel’s smile looked genuine for the first time as he looked at Y/N fuming in front of him before turning to Cas. “She’s feisty! Dean knows how to pick ‘em!”

He looked back at Y/N and held both his hands up in surrender. “Look, I can’t extract Michael from Dean’s body, it doesn’t work that way; Dean has to be the one to throw him out. And there’s nothing I could say to give him that kind of strength.” He tilted his head slightly. “But you might be able to. You’re our best shot.”

He looked to Cas. “If she can get Dean to toss Michael, I’ll grab on to him. I’ll be able to hold him for a little while. Hopefully long enough to get to Lucifer and try to get Sam Winchester to eject him.”

He shook his head. “That one’s gonna be a lot harder, and I’m not gonna lie, I don’t hold out very much hope. I also don’t know what kind of shape Sam’s gonna be in even if he can get him out. He’s held Lucifer for five years now, he might be too far gone.”

Cas nodded. “If we can get Dean, he can get Sam. Or, he’ll be the best chance anyway. And if Sam manages to eject Lucifer, Dean won’t care what condition he’s in, he’ll fix him.”

Gabriel gave a nod. “We’ll see, I suppose. But we gotta start with Dean so…” He looked at Y/N. “What do you say, beautiful?”

Y/N contemplated him for a moment before looking at Cas. “Do you trust him?”

Cas was quiet for a long time, looking Gabriel over, the debate clear in his expression.

The archangel rolled his eyes. “Thanks, bro.”

Finally Cas nodded. “Yes, I believe we can trust him.”

Y/N took a deep breath, hope and fear spreading throughout her body in equal measure. “Okay, then let’s go save the Winchesters.”

***

Their traveling party was prepared and ready to go in very little time, most of which was spent explaining to Emma why she couldn’t come.

Y/N knew how terrified her little girl must be, thinking she was losing her mother now too. Eventually though, her tears subsided and her little face became resolved to what was happening. It broke Y/N’s heart to see that resolve, to know that her daughter’s soft heart was getting tougher.

Y/N swore to herself that she was going to bring Dean home, and they would live happily ever after, spoiling Emma and letting her go soft once again.

Before they left, Y/N gave Monique a hug and thanked her again. She’d pulled her friend aside earlier and spoken quietly with her, asking her to take care of Emma if anything should happen to her. Tears had welled up in Monique’s beautiful amber eyes but she’d clasped Y/N’s hands tightly.

“I will always look after Emma as my very own.” She shook her head and dashed away her tears. “But you’ll be back in no time, I’m sure. So, I’ll see you soon.”

The soldiers, Brandy and Monique had all checked privately with Y/N about whether or not she was really okay to set off with two angels. Y/N reassured them that she trusted Cas completely and he trusted Gabriel. So she did too. Besides, she’d reasoned, if this was their only possibility to save Dean, she had to take it.

Gabriel said he knew just where Michael was staying, so she held Cas’ hand as the archangel tapped his brother’s shoulder and in a blink they were suddenly standing just outside a rundown Victorian house.

The springtime sun was just beginning to lighten the sky in the East as they popped into existence on the sidewalk outside the house.

She hadn’t even had time to wave goodbye.

The three of them walked slowly up the front stairs and through the door. As they entered the house they heard a voice call from the back.

“The polite thing to do would have been to call first, you know.”

Y/N felt her heart leap. She recognized Dean’s voice, but it sounded different. The consonants were more clipped, the words more even in tone, almost bland, bored. His voice had none of Dean’s rough, expressive way of speaking.

The dissonance continued as they walked into the sitting room and found Dean. He held himself ramrod straight, and when he turned towards them, his face held none of Dean’s stony anger, or joyful exuberance. It too was bland, cold, his normally shining, emerald eyes looked almost empty.

Looking at this version of Dean was very difficult. Somehow being in front of this non-Dean made Y/N miss him even more.

But he never spared her a glance. All his attention was on his brothers. “Castiel, it’s been a long time. And Gabriel,” he looked him up and down, “it’s been even longer. Millions of years, in fact. I almost didn’t recognize you in this vessel.”

“Yeah, got this one custom made by a good friend of mine.” He ran a hand across his chest. “I’ve grown quite fond of my earthly form, so I’m happy I don’t have to share it with a human, and I don’t ever have to turn into a bright white mist, cause there's no human inside to reject me. This beautiful face is mine all mine.”

He smiled wide, but Michael just frowned. “That’s sacrilege, brother. Our angelic form is greater than any human disguise.”

Gabriel shrugged. “But they sure come in handy don’t they. If you wanna get anything done on earth, they really are a necessity.” He raised a hand towards him. “Hence all your trouble to get this one.”

Gabriel's tone became grandiose and overwrought. “For here is your sword, your one true vessel. Destined for eons to be the one human whose bones you were the most eager to jump.”

Michael stared at him soundlessly for a moment and then spoke in the same even, emotionless tone. “Why are you here, Gabriel? And why have you brought this human?” He pointed at Y/N, but still didn’t look at her.

Gabriel paused a beat before answering. “Well, we have a bone to pick with you.”

That was the signal to spur Cas into action. A white light shot out from Gabriel’s hands, connecting him to Michael. As the two archangels fought, Michael trying desperately to break the hold Gabriel had on him, Cas ran in front of him, drawing a straight line from wall to wall in holy oil and then dropping a lit match, trapping Michael behind the line of flame.

Gabriel let his brother go, grunting with effort as the connection broke. Michael’s borrowed face was no longer emotionless, it was furious and bubbling with hate.

“How dare you!” He shouted at Gabriel. “How dare you try to interfere with my destiny. This fight has been postponed for five long years while Lucifer ran amok. It is my duty to fight him and end him!”

Gabriel was scowling at his big brother a moment before a wide grin spread across his face. “You said doody.”

Everyone paused to look at him askance, and he shrugged. “What? That’s funny! Nobody has a sense of humor these days.”

He shook his finger at Michael. “You know who would have laughed at that, the man you’re possessing. He would have thought it was hilarious. Or at least, he would have before the apocalypse struck. Been a bit down in the mouth since Lucifer possessed his brother and ended the world.”

Michael was still livid and he spoke through gritted teeth. “We tried to tell Dean that I needed my sword, that I needed my vessel to fight Lucifer, but he wouldn’t listen. He brought this on humanity.”

“Bullshit!” Gabriel called out and all traces of his humor were gone. “You could have used another vessel, you could have made due as Lucifer did before Sam. But no, you wanted THIS vessel.” He pointed at Dean. “And you were pissed you couldn’t have him, so you threw a hissy fit and left the world to burn.”

Silence reigned for a moment before Gabriel spoke again, quiet now. “And I left with you. I cashed in my chips and walked away from the table. But I kept an eye on humanity while I was galivanting around the universe. Kind of an old habit, and what I saw shocked me. The world was over, civilization destroyed, and yet - on they all trudged. These people. These humans. They kept on fighting. These flawed broken toys we all mocked and looked down on, they fought, they loved, they helped each other, they won and lost, but no matter what, they just kept going.”

Michael was motionless as Gabriel continued, pointing towards Y/N. “And just as there was a possibility of hope, just as they found a way they might be able to win, might be able to restart the world, here you come again, army in tow, ready to level the planet all over. And for what? So you can fight some ancient grudge match with our brother?” He shook his head. “What is the bloody point?”

Dean’s jaw ticked with Michael’s annoyance. “It’s my destiny. It’s what I was created to do.”

Gabriel looked sad as he glanced over at Y/N. “Well, not if she can help it.”

Y/N knew this was her time, it was on her now to help Dean find strength enough to eject the possessing angel. Michael’s cold eyes looked at her through Dean’s sparkling jade and she closed her own for a moment, imagining the warmth in Dean’s expression before she opened her eyes and smiled at him.

“Dean, can you hear me? I need you to listen, I need you to trust me. Throw him out. I’ll be safe, Emma and I will both be safe now. But I need you to come back home.”

“Dean isn’t available at the moment.” Michael said darkly. But she could see him squinting, almost as though he was in pain and Y/N chose to believe that Dean was fighting him from the inside.

She kept talking as though Michael hadn't spoken.

“I have so many plans for us. Once we’ve made the cure possible, and the world is able to begin again, I really want us to go back home, back to Chitaqua. I wanna build a cabin there. Nothing fancy, you know, just something a bit bigger than the tent, but still cozy - with a bedroom door that locks.” She finished with a wide grin.

She stepped a little closer to him, careful to avoid the flame. “And, of course, I think we’re gonna have to get Emma that dog she asked for. And we can celebrate birthdays and holidays with all of our friends and family. We’ll keep them all close, and safe.”

Michael was stepping back from her, looking away and shaking his head as though he was dizzy.

“Dean, I love you so much. All I want is to spend my life with you. Please kick him out. I know how strong you are, I know you can do it.”

“I’ll kill her!” Michael screamed out suddenly, as though his inner thoughts weren’t loud enough for Dean to hear. “You understand me? If you want her to live, want to keep her safe, stop fighting me. Now!”

Michael was breathing hard, but a joyless smile was spreading across Dean's beautiful face; the archangel was obviously pleased.

“That's better.” He whispered, still slightly out of breath.

They were losing Dean, she could see it. Michael was terrorizing him again with threats against her. So, acting purely on instinct, Y/N made one last attempt, one huge Hail Mary.

She took a deep breath and leapt over the fire, throwing her arms around Dean’s neck. She pulled his mouth down to hers and kissed him with every ounce of love and passion she could muster.

She put everything into the kiss, every moment she’d loved him, and every promise she was making him were all there, tied up with all the hope in her heart.

She felt a tingling against her lips that started to burn as she pulled away. She jumped back and fell to the ground as Dean let out a roar, and his mouth opened wide. The blinding white light that had consumed him was being forced back out of him, in an incredible light show that ended abruptly as Gabriel reached out and pulled the light into himself.

The darkness was complete for a moment before Y/N’s eyes could adjust. As the world came into focus, she could see Gabriel on the other side of the flame, breathing hard and fast. Cas walked to his side and poured some of his own white light into Gabriel, which seemed to stabilize him slightly.

But his voice was still wobbly when he spoke. “We gotta go. I don’t know how long I can hold him in here with me.”

Y/N nodded and crawled over to where Dean had fallen to the floor. She turned his face towards her just as his eyes fluttered open.

“Y/N?” He whispered and she nodded at him with tears flowing.

“Yeah, I’m here, I’m safe. We’re all safe.”

Dean shook his head. “But how…” He sat up slowly and looked towards where Cas and Gabriel stood. He squinted and shook his head in confusion. “The Trickster’s an angel?”

Cas’ eyes widened as he looked at Gabriel. “You were the Trickster the boys went up against? Twice?”

Dean’s voice was slightly annoyed. “Yeah, he killed me like a million times.”

Y/N felt her stomach lurch, but Gabriel just waved it away as nothing. “I was trying to teach you boys something; wasn’t my finest moment maybe, but you gotta admit, the tacos were funny.”

“Not to me, asshole.” Dean grumbled. Y/N was very confused and about to ask for clarification when Gabriel bent double.

“Ugh!” He groaned. “Okay, could you postpone my spanking for that very hilarious prank until after I’ve saved you all?”

Y/N nodded and helped Dean to his feet. Gabriel looked at him. “Okay, pal, this one’s on you. We’re gonna go get Lucifer so I can toss all of us into the cage. We can try to get Sam to chuck him first. We’ll need you for that. But if you can’t get him, and it seems like Lucifer might get away, I’ll grab Sam as is and jump into the cage.”

Dean stormed up to him. “You are not taking my brother to hell, you understand me?”

Gabriel just shrugged. “Then I guess you better reach him before it’s too late.”

He groaned again as he fought his brother internally, closing his eyes and putting a hand to his head. Without saying any more, they all got into position so Gabriel could zap them to Lucifer’s location.

Just before he could manage it however, there was a bellow of rage from behind them, making them all turn. From the doorway, Zachariah charged forward, angel blade bared and aimed for Dean’s jugular.

Dean shoved Y/N out of the way as the angel charged them like a bull. But when he was just a couple feet from Dean, Cas stuck his foot out, sending the furious angel spilling to the ground in a comical looking pratfall.

He fell onto the still burning holy fire and screamed in pain, rolling around, trying to escape the flames. Before he could pull himself free, however, Dean grabbed onto the silver blade the angel had dropped. He raised it high, and then plunged it deep into his throat, forever freezing the angel's sadistic face in agony.

More blinding white lights burst out of the dying angel, forcing Y/N to once again cover her head and shield her eyes. When she reopened them, she could see the angel’s blackened wings, as his empty vessel was slowly consumed in the flame.

Dean stood up and then helped Y/N to her feet. After giving her a once over to determine she was alright, he turned to Cas.

“Nice job, buddy. Very Keystone Cops.”

Cas frowned. “I don’t know an officer by that name.”

Dean just smiled and then slipped the blade into his pocket as he looked down at the dead angel.

“Good riddance.” He said under his breath before a panting Gabriel yanked him back into position and zapped them all away.

Suddenly, in another heartbeat, they were all standing in a bombed out street; the buildings around them were crumbling and burnt. It was all that was left after some of the original fighting between the army and the Croats five years before. The bombings hadn’t worked.

As they stood looking around, a man caught their eye. He was strolling out of one of the buildings less than twenty feet away; he was very tall and had long brown hair and an easy stride.

Y/N could hear Dean gasp slightly beside her and she took his hand. The man, who could only be Lucifer, slowed down as he approached them. His smile was soft and patronizing.

“Well, well. This is a surprise. What a merry little band of rebels you’ve all turned into.”

He nodded at Gabriel. “Our brothers and sisters all thought you must have been killed somewhere, but I knew better.” He studied him for a minute before smirking. “And I see he got hold of you, Mikey!” He said loudly. He chuckled. “He always was a cuck.”

He frowned slightly as he spared barely a glance for the rest of them. “But Gabe, buddy if you’re here to try and put me back in that cage?” He raised his hand and closed it into a fist and Gabriel began coughing as though he was choking. “Well, that simply isn’t going to happen.”

Cas ran forward to help, but Lucifer tossed him aside with a sweep of his hand. Dean pushed Y/N to crouch behind an upside down car. “Stay here.” He warned, before turning back towards his brother.

“Sammy?” He called tentatively. Lucifer looked over at him and dropped Gabriel to the ground as he let him go. He faced Dean and shook his head.

“You.” The devil said, his voice menacing. “You have no idea how sick I am of you. Do you know how many times I’ve had to listen to Sammy bellyaching about how he was letting you down? Do you know how ANNOYING it is to execute a perfect reign of terror just to have this boy,” he banged his chest, “weeping in my head instead of truly reveling in it with me?”

He shook his head. “It’s only been quiet in here since I threatened to find you and end you. See that’s how I got Sammy’s cooperation in the first place. I promised that if he said yes I wouldn’t snap your neck like kindling.”

He waved towards Dean dismissively. “You were sound asleep at the time, you wouldn’t remember this. But Sam finally said yes, as I always knew he would, and in return I promised that you could keep on living. So when Sam wouldn’t shut up and stop whining, a simple threat to revoke our original deal was enough to silence him.”

He smiled, and Y/N thought it was pure sin for such a sweet, dimpled smile to sit on the face of evil. Lucifer tilted his head slightly as though he was listening to something.

“But now…hey Sammy.” He said in a silky tone. “Been quiet so long, I'd actually started to miss you.”

Dean took a step closer. “Sammy, can you hear me? I’m here. I’m here and I’m so sorry, more than I can ever say. I never should’ve walked away from you. We should have fought these assholes together. I should have known that we’re stronger together than apart.”

He swallowed. “But you’ve gotta chuck him. We’ve got a plan, little brother, we can win. Believe me.”

Lucifer rolled Sam’s bright, hazel eyes just before he slammed his fist into Dean’s face, almost knocking him to the ground.

Gabriel shot light at his brother, but it was much weaker than what he’d thrown at Michael; so much of his strength was being used to keep Michael locked inside himself. Cas added his strength, but Lucifer quickly pushed them both away, severing their hold on him.

Blood gushed from Dean’s lip, his jaw already swollen and purple, as he started forward again.

“Sammy, I need you to force him out. I know how strong you are. I know you can do it. I never should have doubted it, never should have believed they could defeat us. We are Winchesters and we never-”

He broke off as Lucifer landed two more swift blows to his face, causing a sickening crack as Dean’s nose shattered and he crashed to the ground.

Y/N gasped and jumped up, running forward even though there was nothing she could possibly do. Gabriel and Cas fought him again, forcing Lucifer to stumble back slightly. But he found his footing quickly and severed the hold as he had before, this time sending both angels sailing through the air.

Lucifer stared at Dean, hatred spreading across Sam's handsome features. "I am done with you." He shouted. "You are not worth my time."

Looking as though it was a struggle, as though the body he was possessing was fighting back, Lucifer raised his arm, his fingers poised to snap. Y/N screamed, memories bursting in her mind of the swiftness with which Zachariah had ended Johnston’s life with a mere snap.

But before he could manage it, Lucifer once again stumbled backwards. This time, however, Cas and Gabriel had barely risen from the ground and were just walking back towards them.

Lucifer dropped his arm and fell suddenly to his knees. “No.” He whispered, shock suffusing the word, and then he screamed. “No!” The ground shook and rumbled, knocking all of them down.

Suddenly a burst of white light erupted from Sam’s mouth, and as he had before, Gabriel reached forward with his own light to trap his brother.

The light suffused the archangel-turned-Trickster; it was no longer being wholly contained within himself, but spilling out of him as he tried to hold on to all of their angelic forms within his one custom-made vessel.

Jerkily he reached into his pocket and threw the key at Cas. “Now, brother!”

Cas tossed it to the ground and began chanting. As the chant ended, a wide hole began to crack open in the street.

Gabriel pitched forward towards the hole, but his body seemed to be disobeying his commands - his brothers were fighting against him with all their strength. The light emanating from Gabriel seemed to be splitting, as though the other two archangels were separating from him.

With one last surge of strength, Gabriel leapt forward and dove headfirst into the hole in front of him. There were deafening sounds of furious screaming that were quickly swallowed up as the ground closed around them.

There was only silence for a long time, as they all struggled to get their bearings, to reconcile what had just happened.

Y/N was the first to move, running to Dean just as he stood up, and then collapsing in his arms. Dean held her tightly, kissing the top of her head and then cupping her cheeks to kiss her mouth, hard and fast. He pulled away and smiled.

Cas stepped forward to tap his fingers to Dean's forehead, instantly clearing the blood and bruises.

Dean nodded and smiled at him gratefully. “Thanks, Cas.”

He looked back at Y/N and his beautiful eyes and mobile, expressive face were once again his own and Y/N rejoiced.

Dean turned them both to face Sam where he still knelt on the ground. With a quick squeeze, Dean stepped away from her to reach out a hand to his little brother.

Sam hesitated only a moment before he took it and let Dean pull him to his feet. The two men stared at each other for a minute before Dean yanked Sam towards him to wrap the taller man up in a bear hug, his arms wrapping over Sam’s shoulders and clinging tightly.

Sam’s face crumpled slightly and he crushed his brother’s ribs as he hugged him back. “I’m so sorry, Dean. I didn’t know what else to do, I didn’t…” He trailed off, but Dean was shaking his head.

“No, Sam, no.” He pulled back to clap his hand against the side of Sam’s neck. “This isn’t on you.” Sam gave him a look and Dean shook his head. “Well, it’s certainly not all on you. We both fucked up, but we have a chance to fix things now.”

He turned back to Y/N and held his arm out towards her. She stepped forward to take his hand. Dean was beaming as he made the introductions.

“Sam, Y/N, Y/N, Sam.” Sam raised an eyebrow and Dean grinned. “Meet my wife.”

Sam’s eyes widened and Y/N gasped. “What?” She squeaked.

Dean shrugged. “Well okay, maybe there’s still the formalities to go through, like the wedding ceremony.”

“And a proposal!” Y/N said, laughing from sheer joy, utter exhaustion and the madness of their new reality.

Dean grinned at her. “You saying you don’t wanna?”

Y/N beamed up at him. “Definitely not saying that.”

Cas interrupted. “Before you start planning the wedding, can we go home?”

Sam looked dazed and spoke softly as though trying to decide if it was all just a dream. “Where is home?”

Dean clapped him on the back. “Camp Chitaqua. You’re gonna love it, Sammy! Trust me. It’s paradise.”

“With outhouses.” Y/N said with a snort.

Sam’s smile was soft, and it suited his kind, handsome face much more than it had ever fit the devil.

“Sounds perfect. Let’s go home.”

Cas stepped forward and in a blink they were back in the field where the spring vegetables were just sprouting - where they could hear the voices of their friends and neighbors, and smell the thick scent of pine and new earth.

There was a cry of shock as the campers saw them all suddenly standing there. Shouts conveyed the message quickly throughout the camp and everyone came running to see their return.

Y/N let out a cry of happiness as she saw Emma racing towards her, her little legs eating up the distance surprisingly fast. As she reached them, Dean scooped her up and pulled Y/N into the circle of his embrace so that the three of them hugged each other tightly.

The rest of the day was spent celebrating and rejoicing, hours of storytelling, and off-key singing around campfires, food shared and enjoyed by everyone.

Eventually, Dean, Y/N and Emma broke away to bring Sam to Dean’s old tent. They lit a lamp and Dean gave Sam the grand tour, pointing the way to the outhouses from there, and assuring him the cot was more comfortable than it looked.

Sam nodded, still looking as though he couldn’t take it all in. Seeing his confusion, Y/N kissed Dean on the cheek and picked up Emma’s hand.

“You boys have so much to catch up on. You should take some time together.”

Sam shook his head. “No, you’ve been away from each other long enough. This reunion should be yours.” He said, nodding at Y/N and Dean. Throughout the day he’d been caught up on how everything went down with Michael and Zachariah.

But Y/N shook her head. “We’ve been apart a week, you’ve been apart for years. You need this time.”

Dean looked down at her, love shining in his gaze, before tossing his brother a smile. “Don’t bother arguing, Sammy, she always wins.”

He bent down and kissed Y/N deeply, making Emma curl her lip.

“Ew.” She said succinctly, and Y/N laughed as she pulled out of the kiss.

She looked at Sam and then moved in for a hug. Sam hugged her back and she beamed up at him.

“I'm so glad to know you, Sam Winchester. Welcome home.”

With that she pulled Emma out of the tent to let the brothers get to know each other again.

Hours and hours later, the camp was finally quiet. A lamp glowed here and there as people slowly settled into their tents for the night. A happy peace settled over the camp, blanketing it in coziness and calm.

Y/N had sung Emma to sleep an hour before and was now stretched out on her own cot. She was planning on waiting for Dean to come back from visiting with his brother. But almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, her absolute exhaustion hit her and she was out immediately.

She woke with a start some time later, and then sighed deeply as she felt Dean’s arms tighten around her. Across the room she could hear Emma’s soft snores and her eyes filled with tears as the reality hit her anew that they were all truly together again, safe and sound. She turned in Dean’s arms so she could face him.

“Dean.” She whispered.

He smiled a sleepy smile and kissed her softly. “You were sleeping so soundly when I got home, I didn’t want to disturb you.” He whispered back, voice craggy with sleep.

“How is Sam?” She asked.

Dean sighed. “He’s okay. Gonna take time for him to be a hundred percent, you know. But he’s here, and he’s smiling, and he’s...Sammy.” He shrugged slightly. “So, that’s enough for now.”

Y/N nodded and wiped away a tear, finally making Dean notice them in the dark. His voice sounded slightly worried as he cupped her cheek and thumbed away the wetness. “Sweetheart, you're crying. Why?”

Y/N shook her head. “Because all my hopes and dreams have come true. We’re together, we’re safe, the camp is safe, the devil’s gone, and we actually have a real chance of remaking the world.”

Dean’s voice voice was a bit choked up too as he responded, grinning. “Yeah, but I don't plan on forgetting that promise you made me. When the world is fixed, we’re coming back here to live out our days in a big log cabin with locking doors and indoor plumbing, right?”

Y/N giggled. “I’m not sure about the indoor plumbing, but everything else is definitely in the cards, I hope.”

Dean pulled her close and tucked her head beneath his chin. “Well, we’re in the business of hope, so I think our chances are good.”

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @alwaystiredandconfused @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma

Dean Fics Only: @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @hobby27 @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96

#dean winchster #endverse!dean #endverse!dean fan fic #endverse!dean x reader #dean x reader #endverse!fan fic series #endverse #the dangers of hope #chapter 10

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kiteblue42 · 8 months ago

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Is Eric Kripke America’s Tolkien?

So I started Supernatural for the first time around 6 months ago for which I blame Tumblr entirely (where do I claim compensation?). In fact it’s very good and fun and I can’t believe I missed it when it was live.

Ok so bear with me I’ve been sick for a few days a combination of high temperature plus rings of power trailer drop may be making me delusional, but I got to thinking … why did this show have such a hold not just on this site, but also on so many fan artists and fan fic writers. (I mean it has a strangle hold on Ao3)?

Then the RoP trailer dropped and I got to thinking is it because it world builds from a US stand point like Tolkien world built from a European standpoint?

Then because I am sick and can’t sleep I am sharing my stream of consciousness o: Kripke as Tolkien, Sam as Sam, John Winchester as Gandalf, Castiel as Beleg and Dean as Turin Turambar - and maybe now I’ve got this out of my head I’ll feel better….:

I attempted to put this under a cut so hope it worked!

:readmore:

Source material

Most modern fantasy stands on the shoulders of JRR Tolkien who basically ingested a ton of European myths and languages (with focus on Northern Europe) and spat out the middle earth legendarium.

Eric Kripke (plus writing team) seems to have ingested a ton of US urban myths and US pop culture and spat out “Supernatural-verse”. Because it is *US myth making* it is distinct from a lot of other US writing that builds off Tolkien and / or European myth arcs (I’m looking at you Star Wars, Westeros etc).

And the themes and sensibilities therefore pulled out by Kripke are *not* the same as Tolkien’s themes and sensibilities. This makes it different to a lot of modern genre fiction (in whatever form) that either builds on or seeks to subvert the themes in Tolkien’s work.

(There’s also a lot of genre fiction that is satire or allegory for the real world, but that is another category to me and not really world building in the same way - incidentally the Boys fits into that category along with Good Omens).

Both ofc back end off the Bible but this is English literature based story telling and no one escapes the Bible or the bard.

Structure

We usually think of Tolkien in terms of:

(1) Hobbit - entry level nicely structured “there and back again” story for children, darker than expected. Main hero arc -Bilbo.

(2) Lord of the Rings - the pretty perfect fantasy master piece - very accessible clear meaningful themes and tidy /satisfactory ending. A number of hero arcs, but clearest drawn are Frodo / Sam.

(3) Silmarillion (&etc) - this is where the legendarium really gets built. It’s not neat, it’s not accessible, some of it is *not* a good read but the ideas here build the world. We have a creation myth. The “good” “wise” guys turn out to be more complex and flawed than we thought. The evil guys are extremely toxic but entertaining and bring the drama. There are epic doomed romances between immortal beings and mortal beings. Everyone messes up and makes catastrophic world destroying errors on the regular. People get cursed and can’t escape their doom. I can’t think of any real traditional hero arcs (maybe Beren or Luthien??). Note Tolkien didn’t finish this and it’s put together by someone else.

Now let’s do Supernatural

(1) seasons 1-3 - Horror procedural-

Entry level solid procedural hunting / horror story. Sam W is here in the traditional hero role. Dean is like your Thorin initiating the adventure. John Winchester is in the Gandalf role (he knows what’s going on and holds the secrets but is not available to the adventurers at all times). Maybe there something deeper and darker going on? This is your Hobbit equivalent very accessible but not particularly unique.

(2) season 4-5 - myth arc - lots of fans will say this is the perfect part of the story and a masterpiece of genre writing. It’s neat with clear meaningful themes and a tidy satisfactory ending. A number of hero arcs though Sam’s remains the most clearly drawn. Dean is more like your Aragorn or Faramir at the end of 5, Bobby in the mold of a Theoden and a Castiel in sort of Gandalf type position. Baby ofc is Shadowfax. This is your LoTR equivalent

(3) seasons 6 - 15 - the Legendarium- this gets a lot of criticism but it’s where the legendarium really gets built. It’s not neat, it’s not that accessible, some of it is not great to watch, but the ideas here build the world out. We have a creation myth (hello Chuck & Amara). We have hero doomed by the narrative (most notably Dean Winchester, though also Castiel). We have epic love stories between mortals and immortals. Yes I am comparing Dean & Cas to Beren & Luthien (!) though Turin & Beleg would perhaps be more appropriate (there’s a good case for Dean = Turin in this universe). The good guys turn out to be more complex or darker than we thought. The evil guys are extremely toxic but entertaining and bring the drama.

There aren’t really any straightforward hero arcs which is one of the reasons Sam fades out a bit and Dean comes forwards as a character. The stories are messy and tragic.

Landscape

Middle Earth - if you read the books or watch the movies or show it’s clear that Tolkien’s (sub)creation is a love letter to the mountains, lakes and woods of England and Europe. It’s also a cry of anguish for their destruction. Both the beauty and destruction are heightened (Europe doesn’t really look like this and really never did - as for the movies they were shot in anew Zealand and then digitally enhanced…) This is as important as the characters and plot - and stands out in particular in the Hobbit and LoTR where there are long descriptions of landscapes (or long shots of the same in movies / shows).

“Middle Americana” - it’s clear that as much importance was put into the look of the landscapes in Supernatural as to the characters or story. In this verse the look is long open roads, beautiful mountains and big skies that are a declaration of love for America, and the run down small towns seem to present wistful sadness. But again it’s not real it’s heightened. The cinematography in first few seasons is particularly thoughtful (and perhaps Kim Manners is to be thanked for that). The show is shot in Canada and the motels / gas stations in middle of no where needed to be built because they didn’t exist in reality. Again the landscape - the open road, the small towns, the big sky, the motels / dinners / gas stations in the middle of nowhere are as much a character as anything else.

I could go on but I suppose if anyone read this far you get the point (and more importantly it’s now out of my head and I can think about something else!).

Ultimately it will take some time to see if this could be right - in terms of genre fiction Tolkien is everywhere and you can’t escape it (even if you never read or watched any Tolkien!). Time will tell if the Kripke verse has the same impact on creatives and audiences, but I just look at the A03 archive and notice how many people know what happened on Supernatural without ever watching it (!) and think hmmm these are the readers and writers of tomorrow after all.

#rings of power #trop meta #rop meta #supernatural #supernatural meta #tolkien #eric kripke #lord of the rings #silmarillion #kripke era #dean winchester #sam winchester #the hobbit #castiel #turin turambar

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copperboom82 · 29 days ago

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Southern Cross

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC (female)

Word Count: 4k

Prompts: "Try focusing on your life and less on mine" and "first snow."

Title credit: Southern Cross by Crosby, Stills, and Nash

Summary: Holidays aren't always easy for everyone. As Christmas approaches, neither Dean nor Katrina are having the best time. Can they find solace in each other, or is it just too natural to push each other's buttons?

Set mid-season 6. Precedes my other one shot, Something, but can absolutely be read on its own.

AN: Hello! This is my second submission for @jacklesversebingo and my first story for @chevroletdean's Promt-Mas for the Supernatural Writers Community (First Snow prompt). Also - please forgive me, I wrote this in one go, while sick. I did proofread, but will definitely do another round when my head's a little clearer.

Warnings: Mild language and themes of loss and grief. Please let me know if I missed something - I don't think I did, but I'm also very new to posting my writing.

*****************

“Hey, I was using that!” Dean exclaimed as the TV remote was yanked out of his hand. It was the middle of the day on a cold, dreary Wednesday, and while he was sure there was plenty he could be doing, with Sam still out cold in Bobby’s ghost-proof panic room, taking up residence on Bobby’s couch and flipping through crappy day-time TV seemed to be his best option.

God forbid he do it in peace though. Katrina looked over her shoulder at his outburst, that irritating grin of hers in place, and stuck her tongue out at him before flopping down onto the other side of the couch.

“Get better taste in TV and maybe I’ll share,” she quipped, settling in and starting to do her own flipping. Dean grumbled but settled deeper back into the couch himself. It wasn’t worth the fight. Even if he won, she wouldn’t stop complaining, and Dean wasn’t all that invested anyway. Everything was just white noise these days anyway.

“You’re one to talk about taste,” he retorted, eyeing her outfit… though the term seemed generous. She was dressed down today, or rather, she hadn’t gotten dressed yet, still clad in black and red plaid pajama bottoms and an orange t-shirt that had an illustration stretched across the chest, with Crosby, stills, Nash & Young printed under it and clashed horribly. “I don’t know what’s worse, your fashion sense or the band.”

Katrina rolled her eyes and threw a pillow at his head. “Fuck off. I don’t say anything when you dress like a wanna-be biker, do I?”

Dean narrowed his eyes, but Katrina ignored him, her own gaze intent on Bobby’s crappy TV.

It had been a few months since Katrina Black had come into Dean’s life. She’d been an unwelcome but seemingly non-negotiable addition to his found family when Sam had shown up at his door back in the Fall and he’d had to bring Lisa and Ben to Sioux Falls in search of a safe landing spot while they took care of the djinn. It had taken some time, but what had started as a begrudging tolerance had given way to a genuine friendship, one that Dean had trouble imagining at times how he’d done without. But she still had a way of grating on his nerves at times. Today was one of those days.

He’d been there for just about a week, not counting the day he’d spent trying and failing to fill Death’s shoes. Kat had only shown up the day before, but from what Dean understood, she was planning on staying until after Christmas. He’d been more than a little surprised, considering from what he understood she had a full-time job and was missed when she disappeared for too long. The surprise had immediately been replaced by annoyance when she’d told him someone needed to check in on Bobby after Sam’s failed attempt at patricide. As if Dean weren’t perfectly fucking capable.

Bobby was more than fine. The old bastard was tough as nails. Even robo-Sam didn’t have a shot of taking him down. He didn’t need Kat checking up on him. Neither did Dean, for that matter. Or Sam. The three of them were fine, and if Kat was just going to lounge around all day and steal his remote, he wasn’t sure what help she thought she was being.

“What are you doing here anyway?” he asked after a few minutes of silence. To that point, she still hadn’t settled on a channel, but the wrist she had extended towards the TV faltered at his question, and he noticed the shadow of a frown cross her face.

“I told you; I came to check in on Bobby.”

She clicked the channel button a few more times, slower than before, and then dropped her arm back to her side and curled deeper into her chosen spot.

“Yeah, okay,” Dean allowed, even though he still thought it was stupid. “He’s fine though, and last I checked, you were planning on staying till after Christmas, which is still over a week away.”

Katrina shrugged, eyes still fixed on the TV. Dean followed her line of sight and noticed she’d landed on I Love Lucy. He had to work not to snort at the predictability. In the months they’d known one another, he wasn’t sure he’d seen her pick anything aside from I Love Lucy, Bewitched, Gilligan’s Island, or The Munsters. Creature of habit, she called it. Boring was the word Dean used, but it was mostly to get a rise out of her. Given the way she kept him on his toes most of the time, he found it oddly endearing that she had some quirks that were so insanely consistent.

“So what? I have some time off. You got a problem with it?”

“No.”

It was a mostly honest answer. He didn’t have a problem with it… he just wanted to be left well enough alone. There was enough shit on his mind… the nonstop anxiety over whether Sam was going to wake up and whether he’d be Sam when he did… the near constant ache for Lisa and Ben that only seemed to grow as the holidays approached… his growing concern over whatever goddamn war Cas was fighting but keeping them out of… the bitter anger he was still feeling towards dear old gramps.

The last thing he needed was Katrina and the complicated feelings her presence stirred in him.

“You seem like you’ve got a problem with it,” she prodded, and Dean held back a groan. Why did she always have to poke and prod? “You’ve been in a mood since I got here.”

“I have not been in a mood,” Dean deflected, giving an exaggerated roll of his eyes. Katrina snorted and shook her head, clearly not convinced, and Dean’s eyes narrowed further. “Just doesn’t make sense is all. Christmas with a grumpy old hunter, a coma patient, and a – what did you call me the other day? A stubborn ass? Doesn’t exactly scream holiday cheer to me.”

A wry smile formed on Kat’s face, but it didn’t reach her eyes, and Dean thought he noticed her shoulders tense.

“What do you mean? Sounds just like home to me,” she jabbed back.

“Aw, c’mon, Kat,” Dean pushed, finding himself curious now. “Don’t you have a younger sister? Wouldn’t you rather spend it with her than with us hacks?”

Dean definitely didn’t imagine the reaction that time. Katrina’s jaw definitely clenched.

“Jenna’s on a cruise with her boyfriend and his family,” she informed him flatly. Dean frowned, his mind working overtime to recall what he knew of her situation. From what he understood, she and Jenna were close. Freakishly close… though he understood the irony in having anything to say about something like that himself.

“What, and bailed on you for Christmas?” he asked in disbelief before he could stop himself. Katrina rolled her eyes.

“She didn’t bail on me; we talked about it. She’ll be back in time for me to see her before she goes back to school. It’s no big deal.”

Dean doubted that very much, but he wasn’t stupid enough to voice as much. He was, apparently, stupid enough to keep digging, however.

“Alright, fine, your sister’s not around. Still, though, you gotta have something you’d rather be doing.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to watch,” she dismissed, but Dean snorted. He was fairly certain that she could quote these episodes by now.

“Bullshit. C’mon, Kat. What’s the rest of your family up to? You should spend the time off with them, not watching crap TV on Bobby’s couch and helping man the phones.”

He realized seconds too late that he’d pushed too far, and when Katrina’s head whipped around, he nearly gulped when he saw the fire in her eyes.

“The hell is your problem?” she hissed. Dean felt his mouth drop open, feeling stupid when the words he needed suddenly evaded him.

“Kat, I’m – “

“Save it, Winchester. Why don’t you try focusing on your life and less on mine?”

And without another word, she pitched the remote back in his direction and took off towards the stairs, leaving a bewildered Dean in her wake.

The next few days were tension filled to say the least. While their spats typically blew over of their own accord, there was something different about this one that Dean didn’t know how to put his finger on. It was a small house, but Katrina still managed to find a way to mostly avoid him. He tried to apologize, but any time he got close, she made up an excuse to be anywhere else, or quickly struck up a conversation with Bobby.

When they were occupying the same space, the snark that had permeated every conversation they’d had in their early days returned tenfold. Dean couldn’t seem to say so much as a word without Kat having some sarcastic comment or biting remark to throw back in his direction, even when he was talking to Bobby. It was bad enough that Friday night Bobby cornered him about it, and given Bobby’s preference to stay as far out of their disagreements as possible, that was saying a lot.

“What’d you do to Trina?” the old man asked, dropping into a seat at the kitchen table and sliding a beer across the table. Dean looked up from the article he’d mindlessly been scrolling through on Sam’s laptop, surprised at the question – though not too surprised to scoop up the offered bottle, even as he pushed the laptop aside.

“Oh, c’mon, Bobby. I didn’t do anything. You know how Kat gets. She’s been in a mood since she got here.”

Bobby, however, looked back skeptically, raising his eyebrows as he took a pull from his own beer.

“Is that so?”

Dean nodded, knocking back his own beer. It was late. There still hadn’t been any change in Sam, a thought that was gnawing at Dean like nothing else. The house had been quiet since dinner – pizza Bobby had ordered before Katrin had slipped upstairs, citing she needed an ‘early night.’

“Yeah. She came in the other day while I was watching TV, stole my remote, and told me I had no taste. Typical Katrina.”

A voice in the back of his head nagged at him that he knew there was more to it than that, but Dean didn’t want to get into it with Bobby. He didn’t understand what had gone so wrong himself, and he wasn’t in the mood to rehash it. Bobby, however, seemed to be able to sense the damn voice.

“Oh yeah, that sounds like her alright,” Bobby agreed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “And I’m sure you didn’t clap back at all Mr. Calm and Collected.”

Dean sighed and ran a hand down his face.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Bobby. I gave her shit for wearing a Crosby Stills shirt, and I tried to ask her why she was hanging here for the holidays. If that got her all bent outta shape, I gotta say… I thought she was made outta tougher stuff.”

Dean had hoped that would be the end of the conversation, but he’d anticipated maybe a bit more ribbing… maybe another round of prodding on the subject. What he didn’t expect was the look of utter exasperation tinged with disappointment that flashed across Bobby’s face, and Dean found his brow furrowing automatically in confusion.

“What?” he asked. Bobby was quiet for a moment, before he ultimately exhaled, shaking his head slowly. The disappointment seemed to win out over the exasperation.

“You know, Dean,” said, his voice surprisingly quiet, “did you ever stop to think that you ain’t the only one that’s got baggage?”

And just like with Katrina, Bobby was gone before Dean could get any real answers. He kicked at the chair next to him in a bout of frustration before he could think better of it. Why did everything have to be so damn complicated?

The next day, there was still no change in Sam, and Dean found himself sitting once more at the kitchen table, mindlessly flipping through one of Bobby’s books, looking for anything they might have missed about souls, when a hat and a pair of gloves landed in front of his face. He looked up in confusion that quickly morphed to surprise when he saw Katrina standing in front of him. She was bundled up in one of her heavier coats, a scarf draped around her neck, hair pulled into a messy side braid, and her hands shoved into her pockets.

“Let’s go,” she said simply. “I’m getting a Christmas tree to brighten this place up, and you’re helping me. Move your ass.”

For a moment, Dean stared back at her blankly, too caught off guard for the words to register. But as they did, the skepticism took hold.

“The hell I am,” he tossed back. “What do we need a Christmas tree for?”

“If I’m spending my Christmas here, we’re getting a tree, and I need your help.” And despite the inexplicable guilt that Dean had been feeling for the last few days, he felt a flare of anger.

“Yeah, well no one asked you to spend Christmas here, did they?”

Katrina was already walking towards the door but called back to him over her shoulder.

“Wrong again, darlin. Bobby asked me months ago, which makes you the interloper. C’mon, we’ll take my car. Wouldn’t want to scratch your precious baby.”

Christmas tree shopping was not Dean’s idea of a good day. But something about the tension of the last few days and how it had been eating at him pressed in, and Dean found himself pushing to his own feet and following after her, shrugging on his coat as he went.

“Whatever, Black. Just don’t expect me to decorate the damn thing.”

Christmas tree shopping with Katrina was an experience, to say the least, but Dean had to admit it felt better than sitting around the house had. For a few merciful hours, he was distracted from the constant pull he’d been feeling towards Bobby’s basement. Even the memories of doing the same thing with Lisa and Ben the previous year – the only other time Dean could remember going tree shopping – skewed to the sweet side of the bittersweet scale, a gift in and of itself these days.

She was still a little prickly, taking any opportunity she could find to take a stab at him, but Dean gave it back as good as he got, and the tension melted back into the playful banter he had become accustomed to. It was about halfway through the second field that Dean made the mistake of complaining that he was cold, immediately regretting the slip when Katrina’s face lit up in her I-told-you-so expression.

“I thought Winchesters didn’t get cold,” she teased, elbowing him gently. Her hands were still tucked into her pockets, despite the fact that she’d donned gloves for the occasion. Dean rolled his eyes good naturedly.

“I did not say that,” he disagreed, and Katrina chuckled.

“No, you were just adamant that you didn’t need the hat and gloves I found for you. Because, and I quote, it’s only thirty degrees out.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t expect to be at this for hours,” Dean pointed out. Katrina laughed, and Dean tried not to let himself get too drawn into her dazzling smile, or dwell on how pretty she looked with her cheeks all flushed from the cold. That was a path neither of them were equipped to go down, and even with all her rough edges, Dean wasn’t willing to risk the friendship they’d formed.

“Joke’s on you. Maybe next time you’ll listen to me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean grumbled half-heartedly. “C’mon, what do you think about this one? It looks like it would fit downstairs well enough.”

Katrina came to stand next to him, frowning as she studied the tree.

“I dunno, what about there? That’s a huge gap,” she complained. Dean followed where she was pointing but squinted, not seeing whatever she was talking about.

“What are you, high?” he asked, bending down. “This is the best looking tree we’ve seen so far.”

Suddenly, however, it felt like ice had been poured over the back of his neck, and he yelped, in a way that he never did, too caught off guard at the sensation to do anything else. As he stumbled forward and upright, Katrina’s laughter filled his ears, and when he turned around, he found her grinning at him, mischievous glint in her eye and suddenly bare hands visible in front of her. Dean felt his mouth fall open in shock, and Katrina’s laughter only grew louder.

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that,” he told her, and she wasted no time arching an eyebrow at him in challenge.

“Oh yeah? Good luck.” And the next thing he knew, she was off to a running start, her laughter floating back to him over the air. Dean tore after her without a thought, glad they seemed to be the only ones this far out.

Katrina was fast, but he was taller, with a longer stride, and he caught up easily enough. Of course, Kat also had feline-like reflexes, and before he knew it, they both ended up on the ground, both winded, but laughing.

“You’re a fucking menace,” he complained. She snorted.

“Like you’re one to talk.”

Dean ran a hand down his face and tried to catch his breath.

“Yeah, yeah. C’mon, I think I’ve had enough fun for one day. What did you actually think of that tree?”

They were halfway back to the front of the farm, Dean hauling the tree with them, when the snow started to fall. He’d never had any particular attachment to the snow himself, it was just colder rain, but he couldn’t help smiling at the way Kat’s face lit up.

“Seriously?” he asked. “You getting’ all excited about snow?”

Of course, in typical Katrina fashion, she didn’t pay him any mind and only grinned wider.

“It’s the first snow of the year, don’t be a curmudgeon.”

“I’m not a curmudgeon, I’m just an adult. Snow’s a pain in the ass.”

“Yeah, well. Being an adult’s boring. Live a little. You might enjoy it.”

The snow was still falling, already sticking to the ground and coating the earth in a thin layer of white powder when they reached their destination. The world seemed to grow quieter, muffled against heavy flakes, and with it, Dean noticed Katrina did too. They were almost done, when the kid running the machine to put the net around the trees ran into a problem and had to go inside to get help. That was when Dean noticed Katrina had drifted to the side, leaning against a fence, a faraway look in her eyes and she stared out blankly towards the road. Frowning, Dean approached, hands in his pockets, his expression morphing into one of concern.

“You alright?” he asked.

Katrina jumped, turning quickly and flashing him a smile when she realized he was next to her, but Dean noticed it didn’t reach her eyes. Her dark hair was dotted with fresh flakes of snow, growing wet as it melted into her braid. She nodded, but Dean knew better.

“Yeah, I’m good, sorry.”

Dean’s frown deepened, and he shook his head.

“You don’t have to be sorry. What’s up, Kat?”

She bit her bottom lip, seeming to wrestle with herself for a moment, her eyes darting back to the road, away from him. Finally, she took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, the expelled breath rustling a few loose strands of hair.

“Nothing, really. I, uh… thanks for coming with me today. I’m sorry, about the other day. About the last few days. I was a real bitch.”

Dean had been so caught up in their afternoon that he’d almost forgotten about how they’d ended up there, but at the reminder, he suddenly felt that weird guilt again, and scratched at the back of his neck, feeling the heat creeping up it.

“Oh. No, Kat. You don’t have to – I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have –“

But Kat finally turned to look at him again, and he fell silent at the look on her face, the subtle shake of her head more powerful than anything he could have said.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I overreacted. My uh… my mom… this is the first Christmas since she died. It wasn’t too long after the new year that she passed. It’s been… harder… than I expected. I had sort of hoped that Jenna and I would still do something, but Jenna said it was too hard. She just wanted to get away this year, not celebrate. And, um… well, you know what it’s like looking out for your younger sibling. The second she told me that’s what she needed, I knew that was the way this year was gonna go, but… it’s still been a little rough. It’s just been the three of us since my dad walked out. That’s why Bobby invited me to come stay for a bit. We happened to be on a hunt together when Jenna and I had that conversation, and he didn’t want me to be by myself. But, uh, that… that doesn’t give me the excuse to treat you like crap. You didn’t know, and I should have just told you. I’m sorry. It was stupid.”

Dean felt like he’d been punched in the gut, especially when he noticed water pooling at the edges of Katrina’s eyes. He may not have known her long, but he knew she wasn’t a crier. He’d known her mom had died, but he hadn’t realized when.

Without a second thought, Dean reached up and brushed a thumb over her cheekbone, cradling her face and keeping her from giving into that instinct he knew she had to look away. Neither of them were good with emotional vulnerability, but somehow that made it easier for him with her, and he was determined to try and give her that same outlet.

“That’s not stupid, and you don’t need to apologize. I’m so sorry, Kat. I wish I could say something that would make it better, but I’ve been there, and I know how much it sucks.”

Katrina sniffed but nodded, still biting her lip.

“I know you do,” she whispered. “And thanks, I appreciate that.”

Dean smiled softly at her, and before he could second guess the gesture, he kissed the top of her head. When she leaned into it and wrapped an arm around his middle in a hug, Dean felt his breath catch in his throat, but he wasted no time in returning the embrace and holding her against him.

“No need to thank me, sweetheart. That’s what friends are for.”

He wasn’t sure how long they stood like that, letting the snow fall over them while the world continued to quiet around them, but he savored every second of it, and for just a little bit the rest of his worries fell away. All that was left was him, and Kat, the stupid tree farm, and the damn snow… and he almost wished it could stay that way.

Of course, it couldn’t, and all too soon the kid was back, with his manager trailing behind him, bringing reality with them. Katrina disentangled herself from him, a different kind of flush gracing her cheeks now. Dean spared her a small smile and squeezed her hand – gloved once again, of course – before backtracking to collect their tree.

Their lives may have been a mess, and Dean wasn’t particularly happy about what the past year had brought him… but if there was one thing he was grateful for it was probably Katrina Black worming her way into his reluctant heart, and he couldn’t help but wonder what the next year might bring.

#jacklesversebingo24 #supernatural writers community #spn fanfic #dean winchester #dean winchester x ofc #supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfiction #annie writes

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blushstories · 2 years ago

Note

Waittt another idea popped into my head: imagine soldier boy flirting and teasing the reader a little bit and butcher is like ummm 👁👁 cause butcher has a crush on the reader and he gets a little jealous, but in reality, ofc the reader only likes butcher.

this one just-- this is genius, i think very fun i miss jensen ackles so much, we actually go way back and by that i mean dean winchester fanfic pahaha anyway enough vidia lore || tw misogynistic comments

Soldier boy watches your movements as he eats. You’re making drinks for everyone, a spring in your step as usual, your perfume makes the air smell pink and the hem of your skirt dances with the wind you’re creating while grabbing teabags and instant coffee.

He hums. Something drops something in the kitchen and you know it's Butcher when, "Fucking hell," swiftly follows. Soldier boy's concentration remains steadfast.

"You know, sweetheart," you're still not used to the lilt in his voice, dipped in arrogance, but dripping with honey. "You could get any man you want."

The teabag falls into Butchers cup. His unblinking gaze pins you to the spot.

"Is that so?" You don't look at him, but heat rushes to your cheeks. You can't remember the last time you've been complimented.

"With a face like that? You must be fightin' 'em off," he says. Hot water folds into the cups one by one. Heavy footsteps enter the room. "I'll bet none of 'em are real men, though."

The kettle clicks into place and you watch Butcher perch in front of his laptop, shoulders creeping up stiffly.

“Real men?” You say.

“Oh yeah. Me, for example. Men these days are pussies, can’t fucking stand up for themselves.”

With wide eyes and eyebrows raised, you make eye contact with Butcher; you’re just shocked. The cultural dissonance between his views and the present day rings in your ears.

“I could show ya,” he says, taking a bite of his food, and he is serious. Butcher stares at him, still as a statue.

“Um,” you say. “That’s okay. Thanks,” something flashes in Soldier boy’s eyes and you quickly try to recover, “I mean, another time. Maybe. I’m… honoured,” your words are trip hazards because you don’t mean any of them. They’re insurance.

“Oi, dickhead. How about you shut the fuck up for one bloody minute, eh?” Butcher cuts in, heading towards you at the counter, leaning over your shoulder to take his cup of tea by the rim. He passes it to his other hand and remains at your back while taking a sip, his hand resting on the counter to keep him towering over you like a shield.

His eyes cross the rim of the cup to send a warning in Soldier boy’s direction, and by the way his eyes roll and he occupies himself with a different activity, it’s clear that Butcher’s won.

You look up at him and smile; he winks at you and a sideways smile demonstrates he’s riding the victory high.

#billy butcher x reader #billy butcher #the boys #the boys tv #the boys fanfiction #x reader #karl urban characters #billy butcher x you #billy butcher x y/n #william butcher #the boys x reader #billy butcher fanfiction #william butcher fanfiction #william butcher x you #butcher the boys #sorry this couldn't be better!

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chevroletdean · 18 hours ago

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Ambitious — Chapter 1: Hunter in the Rye

SUMMARY: It seems like the Winchesters have found themselves a rival. A mysterious huntress is one step ahead of them, whatever case they’re working on. While she’s a thorn in his side, who is Dean to say no to a little challenge?

SHIP: Dean Winchester x Original Female Character GENRE: Fluff, smut TO NOTE/WARNINGS: Rivals to lovers, miscommunication (or rather: Dean and OFC being stubborn asses), canon level violence, competitive hunting, a bit of German folklore, they're working on a case with victims and children being kidnapped, fluff, smut (MDNI!), fingering, protected p in v, Switch!Dean, not beta read WORD COUNT: 10.5k (sorry) A/N: Spice was not planned, originally, nor was such a hefty word count. But, as predicted, my love for writing about OCs took over and thus I present to you a lengthy entry for the @jacklesversebingo challenge. PROMPT: Work Adversaries CREDIT & LINKS: header by myself ─〃★ gun divider ─〃★ flower divider ─〃★ jacklesversebingo 2024 masterlist ─〃★ series masterlist ─〃★ ao3

▶️PLAYLIST

When it came to hunting, Dean was always ambitious.

With the exception of using every excuse to hit the local bars, flirt with the patrons, and later make it every motel guest’s problem in close proximity to his room.

Still, once he actually was locked in on a hunt, he wanted to get it done right.

“I get that this is a strange case,” the coroner muttered, both in obvious resignation from the second night-owl shift in a row and in sheer surprise. Her white coat looked worn and for a moment, the hunters were left to wonder if she even had the chance to change out of it in the last twenty-four hours. “But is a third examination really necessary?”

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance. They were certainly used to the whole ‘I already spoke with the officers’ type of deal when it came to interrogations and such. However, this…

“I’m sorry,” Dean rasped, forcing an awkward, tight smile. “Did you say third?”

Suspicion flashed across the woman’s eyes, the brows of which were now knitted together in deep thought.

“Could I see some ID again, please?”

Begrudgingly, Sam and Dean handed over their FBI badges, which the coroner inspected a little too closely for their liking. Bobby has spent a good amount of time on getting them perfectly right though. Hence the brothers giving a confident nod as she handed them back, seemingly satisfied.

“Your colleague came in last morning, mere hours after I handed in the report,” white-coat shrugged. A quick glance towards her name plate identified her as Nora Banks. “I showed her the body, and after lunch break some municipal officers came in.”

Not again.

Dean had to refrain from rolling his eyes, despite his clear annoyance with a certain colleague of his. Oh, she was a colleague alright. Not a fellow FBI agent, but definitely a fellow hunter. A damn thorn in his side was what she was to him.

“We’re just following protocol, Miss Banks,” Sam chimed in. “We don’t want to miss any details.”

“That FBI agent went through just about every detail, if you ask me,” Miss Banks sighed, the irritation in her furrowed brows obvious. “But, sure, be my guest.”

Despite her dismay of having to go through the procedure not only twice, but thrice, Nora guided the two men down the hallway. Morgues always gave Dean the creeps and his soured mood did not help his tension. He was still dwelling on the fact that that little beast had bested him yet again.

He’s lost count of how many times that girl must’ve interrupted his leads. Lately it was just working case after case, chasing monsters and inevitably running into traces of her. The stench of her methods were all over this case.

Nora Banks mentioned some of the strange questions the agent had asked her yesterday. Key-words like ‘sulfur’, ‘cold spots’, and ‘increase in local animal attacks’ confirmed Dean’s suspicions that it must’ve been a hunter.

And he only knew one person that tended to appear at the scene of the crime — literally — before they even had a chance.

Although, knowing was putting it very generously.

Despite her being very much of an annoying obstacle when it came to jobs, neither Sam nor Dean had actually ever met her in person before. All they knew was that she was an ambitious, thorough hunter, and working faster than lightning, apparently.

As the brothers left the station, Sam sighed, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. Just from that Dean could tell he wasn’t going to like what he’d say next.

“Looks like this case is already taken care of,” he shrugged, which earned him a glare from Dean.

“Don’t,” Dean interrupted him midsentence, talking over his brother’s meek attempt of smoothing over the older Winchester’s frustration. “Don’t even say it.”

“Dean,” Sam groaned back. “What’s the point?”

As if to question Sam’s seriousness, Dean scoffed at Sam. “The point is,” he huffed, “that this is our case, I didn’t drive eight hours for nothing.”

The older Winchester was as stubborn as ever, but this time around, his persistence was of childish nature. It wasn’t even about the case, it was just about this dumb competition Dean had set his mind to. A competition that was, noteworthily, one-sided — given that whoever this mysterious huntress was probably didn’t even know about the Winchesters.

“Since when are you so eager to work, anyway?,” Sam questioned, but the only reply he was met with was a harsh slam of the Impala’s door. Dean slid into the driver’s seat, clearly not taking no for an answer. He really was dead-set on solving this case first.

It was personal at this point. To him, at least.

Back at the motel, he even double-checked the newspaper articles and went through a list of witnesses to interrogate. Sam genuinely couldn’t recall the last time his brother had been so adamant about solving a case.

While Sam was trying to get ahold of Bobby over the phone, Dean was in the middle of looking up what could’ve caused the strange scarring on the victim’s body. The arms were covered in vein-like marks, like tree-branches raking over every inch of skin. The coroner had attributed the cause of death to be electrocution.

But something about it just felt off — How could a guy just drop dead in the middle of a rye field as if struck by lightning without any signs of storms nearby? That paired with children disappearing and strange sightings of what locals described as a cryptid wasn’t adding up either.

There was a reason the coroner had to answer inquires about animal attacks and such. Apparently, people have seen what they described as a black dog.

Originally, Sam and Dean thought about hellhounds gone loose, but there was no explanation for why they were visible to the general public, and not just doomed souls. A werewolf did not align with the moon cycle, for one, and while they were wolves, they appeared mostly in human-form. Thus, they scratched that off the list of possibilities as well.

“A Feldgeist, is what you’re dealing with,” Bobby said over the phone. “Or, what Phoebe is dealing with, anyway. Why are you two on this case, again?”

Dean’s ears perked up at the unfamiliar name.

“Phoebe?,” he echoed, staring the phone down as if Bobby could see him.

“A Feldgeist?,” Sam echoed simultaneously.

Clearly the brothers had different priorities when it came to solving this case. Sam was beginning to worry that Dean was hunting his new rival more so than being out for the monster itself.

“According to German folklore, they’re essentially somewhere between demonic and spirits. Some humanoid, some shaped like animals,” Bobby went on to explain. “It’s sort of a fairy tale to keep kids from messing around on farms. Except this one’s real — a Roggenwolf. Stalks in fields, feeds on children, causes lightning and rain to mess with the harvest.”

That would explain the strange dog-sightings, the missing children, as well as the electrocution.

“You’re well-informed on the details, Bobby,” Sam remarked.

“Phoebe asked me to do some fact-checking, she called me about this case just yesterday,” Bobby replied.

Again, Dean fidgeted, before finally snatching the phone from Sam’s hands. “Who is this Phoebe?”

“Does it say ‘Winchester’s personal assistant exclusively’ on my forehead? The world of hunters doesn’t revolve only around you idiots,” Bobby snarled, his humbling tone alone giving the Winchesters a good idea of the way he’d scrunch up his nose and tip back that cap of his. “Phoebe Bennett’s a capable hunter, likes to dive in solo. I’d say you boys can move onto the next one and let her handle it.”

“We read up on the case first!,” Dean protested, earning himself a slight smack to his shoulder from Sam and his brother taking away the phone once more.

“Clearly ya didn’t,” was the last matter-of-factly stated thing Dean heard on the other line.

“Thanks, Bobby,” Sam muttered hastily. “We’ll get back to you.”

With that the call ended and Dean fell back into his chair, huffing and puffing like a child throwing a temper tantrum.

He sure was acting as if Phoebe had stolen his candy or something. If Sam wasn’t mistaken, he was even pouting. Over a damn case they haven’t even looked into for longer than a couple of days.

“You wanna catch that rye wolf so badly?”

“It’s a matter of principle, Sammy,” Dean grumbled. “This Phoebe Bennett can’t just keep stealing all our leads! Is this what it feels like to have your job replaced by a machine?”

Unable to not roll his eyes at his brother’s theatrics, Sam sighed: “She’s not a machine, she’s a hunter. And from the looks of it, a decent one, too. Let’s just drop it.”

A notification went off on the laptop as Sam finished his sentence. By hacking into the police station’s systems, they were always up to date with new information. Dean skimmed over the pop-up, before he gave Sam a deadpan expression.

“From the looks of it,” he retorted in mocking fashion and turned the laptop around for it to face his brother. “Our decent hunter hasn’t finished the job just yet.”

A child had just been reported missing by a very alarmed mother. According to the testimony, the girl and her older sister had been playing near the fields, when suddenly the younger sibling was dragged away by a shadow-like creature.

That was more than enough reason to pay the family a little visit.

If what Bobby dug up was correct, then their Larry Talbot / demonic were-spirit / ghostwolf from hell — Dean hadn’t decided on a name yet — kept its victims alive somewhere to feed on them. If they wanted a chance at finding them, they had to act fast.

A fifteen minute drive downtown later, Dean parked right next to a glossy red Harley-Davidson. Amongst the family cars and amidst the idyllic picture of your stereotypical picket-fence suburbian area, the vintagey motorcycle stuck out like a sore thumb. More so than the Impala, even.

Adjusting their ties, Sam and Dean walked up the porch and rang the bell.

Mere moments later, a girl opened for them. Since she looked to be around eleven or twelve years old, they immediately figured this must be the eye-witness. That, and the subtle shell-shock look of emptiness in her eyes.

Dean gave a friendly greeting of “Hi there,” and routinely pulled out his badge. “Are your parents home? We have a couple of questions.”

The pre-teen blinked back and forth between the IDs, mumbling out a meek “Mom’s already talking to an FBI agent.”

Bingo, Phoebe*.*

Dean knew that Cruiser outside could not possibly belong to your average soccer-mom.

“Looks like our co-worker got a headstart then,” he hummed, attempting to peek past the doorway into the living room. “Mind if we come in?”

Reluctantly, the kid turned around, calling “Mom!”

A woman, eyes even puffier and more red-rimmed than that of her daughter, approached them. She didn’t seem to question the fact that more FBI wanted to bombard her with questions.

“Agents,” she nodded, voice tired and worn down, after a quick glance at their badges and waved them inside. “I’ll get more cups ready. Lily, be a sweetheart and show them to the living room?”

The girl, Lily, did as she was told, walking into the living room. Sam and Dean followed closely behind, their eyes immediately landing on the person occupying the middle of the couch.

Her red hair was tucked into a loose braid, strands of which stuck out somewhat wildly, but not messily. There was a keen, sharp look to her bright eyes. Her posture was alert, but not hostile, as she eyed the men before her with curiosity.

“Agents,” she nodded. Her voice, Dean noticed right away, was calm and smooth. Everything about the way she carried herself was.

He found it highly irritating.

For someone with the audacity to waltz about and steal cases from other hunters, this woman was too… fuck finding a right word for it, she was just too irritating.

Arrogance didn’t quite capture it. But just by her confident demeanor, Dean judged her as too prideful. To be fair, his opinion of her was rather tainted and biased. He didn’t know anything about her, aside from the vibes of a first impression.

To him, Phoebe Bennett was on her high horse, taking a sip from her cup of coffee like she had every right to be here while they had none. As if it was Sam and Dean were the ones butting in, disturbing her business.

Where Dean downright refused to even greet her back with anything else but a glare, Sam had the manners to acknowledge her with a nod and a brief “Agent” in return.

“Lily, why don’t you check if your mother needs some help?,” he suggested then, clearing his throat as he glanced down at the girl. No further convincing needed to be done. She scurried out of the room, eagerly and silent.

“Never heard of an FBI agent on a Cruiser,” Dean grumbled, to which she chuckled— What was so damn funny about that anyway?

“As if your 67 Chevy is any less flashy,” Phoebe teased back, smug smirk on her lips. She set her cup down on the table and leaned back, all nonchalance and ease, as she watched Dean’s eyes narrow. “What? You’re not exactly sneaky in that thing, following me around in four different states. Are you tailing me or something?”

Tailing her? And to think Bobby scolded him for acting as though he was the center of the world.

Sam cleared his throat and subtly nudged his shoulder against Dean’s. The tension in the room was not only palpable, it was completely uncalled for. Dean needed to snap out of it.

“Guess we’ve been following the same leads,” Sam explained. “Look, we’re after the same thing, maybe we should team up.”

“No.” Dean’s and Phoebe’s voices melted together, his voice accompanied by a loud and offended scoff, hers by a flat and unimpressed tone. While Dean stared at Sam in disbelief as if to ask if he’d gone crazy, Phoebe casually picked at a piece of lint on her sleeve as if bored.

“No offense, but I prefer to work alone,” she hummed for an explanation. “If you want to get a job done right, do it yourself, right? Plus, if I were to work with other hunters, I wouldn’t do it with someone I don’t even know.”

Fair. Blunt, but fair.

“Little Red Riding Hood hunting the Big Bad Wolf?,” Dean huffed mockingly, a crooked grin forming on his lips. “Sounds like a trashy horror movie, if you’re asking me.”

“Good thing I’m not,” Phoebe immediately retorted. Witty smartmouth, noted.

“Apologies for the mess, I didn’t expect so many guests,” came a hushed voice behind them. As the woman emerged from the kitchen, a tray of more coffee cups in her hands, she looked even more stressed than when she greeted the hunters at the door.

It reminded them all what they were trying to do here; save that little girl.

“Oh, please,” she urged. “Sit, gentlemen.”

Phoebe’s eyebrow quirked up in challenging fashion as she stared Dean down. He wanted to refuse anyway, were it not for his brother swiftly taking a seat next to Phoebe. Damn him and his will to be all civil and social.

Begrudgingly, Dean sat down as well, the trio now grouped on the couch with Phoebe in the middle.

“Mrs. Miller,” Phoebe spoke, well-mannered and sweetly. “I’m sorry I have to ask this. Could you go over the details again, for my colleagues? They’ve just been introduced to this case, you know?”

She accentuated her words with some condescending pats on Dean’s knee. The glimmer in her eyes was half mocking, half warning. Clearly she didn’t appreciate other hunters squeezing into her business last minute.

Dean fought the urge to smack her hand away. The unexpected touch nearly made him jolt in his seat and he narrowed his eyes at her, before swallowing his pride and giving Mrs. Miller an apologetic smile.

“Well,” Mrs. Miller sighed in defeat and allowed herself to sink into the armchair across the table. “Lily and Rose were out playing. I told them to stay away from the fields, but…”

Just thinking about it had the woman tear up. Her gaze dropped to her lap and she sniffled briefly.

“There was a gust of wind,” Lily chimed in, her head poking out from the frame of the kitchen door. “It went straight into the field and Rose ran after it. I know we weren’t supposed to go in deep, but she said she saw a puppy and followed it. Something grabbed her.”

Mrs. Miller waved her daughter over. The kid’s approach was hesitant, but once within arm’s reach, she found herself in her mother’s embrace.

“Did you see what grabbed your sister?” Phoebe asked.

Lily hesitated, then shook her head.

“Lily,” Dean tried. “It’s okay, you can tell us. We just want to find what took her.”

“It wasn’t a puppy,” Lily stuttered out, fidgeting with her hands while her mother smoothed over her daughter’s hair reassuringly. “It was like a wolf. A giant, black wolf.”

“And that wolf, it dragged your sister deeper into the fields?,” Sam inquired.

The girl nodded.

“The police said they will be scouting the area,” Mrs. Miller mumbled, tearing up again. “But what if they won’t find her?”

“Then they’ll have federal backup, Ma’am,” Phoebe nodded confidently and got up. “I’ll make sure Rose comes back home safely.”

Big words for someone who didn’t even know where the child was dragged to yet. Dean’s eyebrows quirked up as he shot a glance at Sam. “Can you believe her?,” his expression said.

Mother and daughter guided the trio back to the entrance. Phoebe wasted no time stepping down the porch.

“Whoa, hey,” Dean huffed and scurried over until he was blocking her way. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Catching the Big Bad Wolf, as you phrased it,” she responded with a shrug and brushed past him.

“Do you even know how to get rid of it?” Dean asked again, following her every step to her bike. “You’ll just go in there and then what?”

Phoebe raised an eyebrow at him and simply mounted her bike as if Dean wasn’t even there. She grabbed her helmet and put it on, along with her gloves.

It certainly was not her job to explain these guys how to kill that thing. However, as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t just run Dean over with her bike and leave either.

“Superstitious Germans in the middle ages went so far as to burn entire fields to get rid of the wolves,” she sighed. “By then, their harvest was mostly ruined anway. Fire usually does the trick, according to the lore.”

“So we’ll just molotov the furball?”

She snorted. “We won’t be doing anything,” she laughed and started her motorcycle’s engine. “If you wanna commit arson so badly, you guys will just have to be faster than me.”

With that, she readjusted her bike’s position and took off, leaving Dean to dart back just in time. He clicked his tongue and bolted towards the Impala.

If she wanted a tournament, she could have one.

“C’mon, Sammy!,” he urged as he slid into the driver’s seat. “We ain’t got all day, hop in.”

Sam blinked at his brother in disbelief. He could already feel another migraine coming in just seeing his brother’s misplaced enthusiasm. This guy was going to stress him out to death one day.

“Move your freakishly long limbs,” Dean groaned.

Sam barely got to close the door behind him when Dean already drove off at alarming speed.

“Hey, speed limit,” Sam argued, but Dean wasn’t even listening. The only thing he was set on was getting to these damn rye fields first. “What even is your plan, set the whole field on fire? We don’t even know if she’s telling the truth.”

Surely, he’d figure it out once he got there. Preferably before Phoebe would.

However, lo and behold, upon arrival, a shiny red bike was already waiting for them.

Dean practically flew out of his seat, throwing the door closed behind him and dashing towards the trunk, from where he retrieved a flamethrower. Sam jumped to his side just in time to shove it back.

“Dude,” he sighed in exasperation, trying to be a voice of reason here.

“Yeah, dude,” Phoebe’s voice chimed in from behind them. “Are you trying to deepfry the missing children with that thing?”

It took Dean everything to not point the damn thing at her. Although, the annoyance in his eyes resembled thrown daggers, or thrown flames in this case. Same difference.

“You guys are persistent, I gotta hand you that,” the redhead sighed while busying herself with grabbing various items and weapons, storing them in her jacket and pockets. “If you wanna be a tick on my ass so bad, suit yourselves. Just don’t get in the way.”

“What about the search operation?,” Sam brought up. “Won’t police be here in a bit?”

“Nothing a phone call couldn’t already settle,” Phoebe shrugged and secured a gun in the back of her belt. “Look sharp, boys, the wolf won’t hunt itself.”

Before Dean could even complain about her ordering them around, she climbed over the fence with ease and disappeared into the fields. The rye almost seemed to swallow her frame. Not wanting to lose track of his rival, Dean hopped over the fence too.

Swallowing his pride, he decided for once to focus on the mission. “So, how do we find this thing?”

“Wind gust should be the wolf moving through the plants, so just follow that.”

“Listen to Red, all confident,” Dean snorted condescendingly. “Have you killed these wolves before?”

Without hesitation, Phoebe gave a firm “Nope.”

“How’re you so sure this’ll work then?”

She rolled her eyes, stopping her steps abruptly. He almost bumped straight into her. “Dean, right?,” she groaned. “You’re even more annoying than Bobby gave you credit for. Please quit yapping and focus on the job, ‘kay?”

Her words left the older Winchester with a gaping jaw and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. Annoying, huh? She was one to talk— Besides, should his ego be more deflated by Phoebe’s dismissal or the fact that she and Bobby were apparently gossipping about him?

Against his better judgement, the curious question left his lips through a grumble.

“If I’m the annoying one, what did Bobby say about Sam?” He was mumbling more to himself than anything, but Sam still nudged his elbow into Dean’s side.

Undisturbed, Phoebe continued her path through the tall blades of yellow and shrugged: “When I asked him what Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum were up to following me like lost puppies, he said,” she started, before clearing her throat and lowering her voice to match Bobby’s gruff tone, “Annoying idiot’s called Dean, tall idiot’s called Sam.”

As a snort escaped his brother’s mouth, Dean glared at him as if to scold Sam for indulging Phoebe’s teasing. How could Sam not get a kick out of watching his brother get a taste of his own medicine though? Clearly Dean wasn’t used to being humbled, much less by smart-mouthed hunters.

A deep, guttural noise prompted all three hunters to a halt. The sound was unmistakably that of growling, low but broken. Broken up by rustling, that is. Cold breezes going through various directions rattled through the meadow and bent the rye into awkward angles.

“Did you see that?,” Dean whispered, instinctively reaching for his trusty gun.

“Sure did,” Phoebe hummed, her eyes zeroed in on where a large shadow had just flashed before them. Her finger has already found home curled around the trigger of her gun. “Bobby didn’t say anything about silver killing them, but I’m sure it’ll hurt anyway.”

“How sure exactly?,” Sam brought up, only to be ignored.

The huntress didn’t waste another moment, not even for an answer, hurrying after the creature.

“Hey!” Dean’s efforts of holding her back were just as for naught. “Damnit, she better be real sure.”

“What, are you getting worried about her already?,” Sam grinned.

Rolling his eyes, he retorted a gruff “shut up” as his only concern was the wolf getting a headstart at kicking her ass before he could.

She was an agile thing, he had to give her that. Were it not for the flame-like color of her hair, he would’ve lost her in the tall, pointy grass. As his luck would have it, however, she abruptly stopped yet again, causing him to almost bump straight into her for the umpteenth time. Seriously, was she doing it on purpose to mess with him?

Her hushing came before he could even think about complaining: A hissed “shh!” accompanied by her palm pressed flat to his chest. A touch that left him rather stunned. In fact, everything about her, all she did and said so far, seemed to have such an effect on him.

Those keen eyes of hers narrowed at a little opening right in front of her. She carefully pushed more rye aside with the barrel of her gun, slowly, to peek through.

“Gotcha,” she mumbled quietly and pointed at tracks on the ground, which took a sharp turn eastwards, likely out of the field. She straightened her back and blinked over her shoulder, giving Dean a once over — which he did not know how to react to, even — and glanced further back. “Where’d you leave Tweedle-Dum?”

Dean flinched, turned to check on his brother, but Sam was nowhere to be seen.

“Sa—?”

“Shush, God!” Phoebe groaned, glaring at Dean. “Are you trying to get us killed? This is a sneak-mission.”

Dean clicked his tongue, increasingly annoyed with her know-it-all attitude.

“Sorry, smartass,” he tched, voice dripping with sarcasm.

While he didn’t like the idea of leaving behind Sam, wherever the lanky guy has wandered off to, their best call was to follow the tracks while they were still fresh. If they were lucky, they’d lead right to the monster’s hideout.

What he definitely hated, however, was the fact that he had to chase this wolf with just Phoebe. Sam better had a damn good excuse to abandon him without further notice.

“You comin’ or what?”

Phoebe’s whispering had him snap out of his thoughts. Whilst he gave an affirmative nod, he could not refrain from grimacing in her direction the second she faced forward again. Still, finding the missing kid came first, even if he had to bite the bullet and team up with Phoebe for the time being.

They treaded through the meadow with haste but deliberate steps, until reaching the very edge of the field. The tracks, clearly paw prints with claws and all, lead them to a burrow. From the outside, it looked shallow, just a plain mound covered in leafs.

“Hold this,” Phoebe commanded flatly, shrugging off her coat and shoving it in Dean’s direction. He scrambled instinctively to not let it drop to the ground, then stared at her with wide eyes and disbelief.

“Quit treatin’ me like your damn assistant,” he snapped, wanting to shove her jacket back, but the girl was already crouching down, climbing into the hole in the ground. She had to squirm through the narrow opening, but managed to slide through eventually. Once inside, she dusted the dirt from her white shirt, albeit it remained stained now.

“Quit acting the part and I might,” she smirked up at him, all cocky. Upon watching her extending her arm towards him, his expression only sank further.

“If you want your stupid jacket back, why’d you give it to me?,” he huffed, refusing to return it just because she decided she wanted to order him around.

“I was gonna give you a hand, but suit yourself,” she shrugged, “just get your pretty ass down here, sweetheart. Ain’t got all day.”

Pretty ass? Sweetheart?

Dean’s mouth opened, but his mind blanked entirely, leaving him to gape like a dumbfounded fish. In a pathetic attempt to cover up his flustered state, he scoffed once more. “I don’t need your help,” he grumbled as he knelt, gripping the lower edge of the opening to give himself a push.

Phoebe’s eyebrows shot up, her eyes glimmering with amusement. “You sure you wanna go in head first and not-?”

Her suggestion fell on deaf ears, though by the time Dean’s hands slipped — and so did he —, he wished he would’ve listened. He was definitely taller than Phoebe, which did not work in his favor in this case. He struggled to make his way through the entrance thanks to his broader frame. Upon losing his grip, he toppled over, falling downwards and landing on his quote-unquote pretty ass.

He didn’t need to look at Phoebe to know she was grinning at his unglamorous performance and she didn’t need to tease Dean to make him feel like an idiot for not sliding in feet first.

Once more, she extended her hand towards him and this time, he begrudgingly accepted the offer and let her pull him up to his feet.

“You okay?,” she asked through thinly veiled bemusement.

“Peachy,” Dean uttered bitterly and wiped the dirt from his clothes.

Ironically enough, Phoebe’s jacket remained entirely unharmed and without any blemishes. Life could be so unfair. He handed it back to her, if only to glare at her while doing so as if to signal her it was the coat’s fault, because he had his hands full or some lame excuse.

Whether or not Phoebe caught his drift, she decided against bickering over it further and instead took it back. Without another word she turned around and walked ahead, Dean following close behind. Even she had to duck her head in this cramped tunnel, but Dean wondered if crawling might’ve been more comfortable.

Since they weren’t far yet, Dean tried to text his brother, but the signal was weak. He wasn’t even sure the message came through. Where the hell did Sam run off to anyway?

“Can I ask you something personal?,” Dean murmured.

Phoebe raised an eyebrow as she glanced at him. “I have a feeling you’ll ask me either way.”

Could she blame him for being curious?

“Since when’re you in the hunting game?,” he shrugged. “We’ve never seen you around anywhere and suddenly you’re everywhere.”

Phoebe remained silent for a moment, focusing on the path ahead instead of Dean’s questionnaire. It shouldn’t surprise him — they hadn’t exactly started on the right footing and she didn’t owe him any explanation, much less a biography. Banter or not though, he thought he should’ve at least heard her name before if she was that of an active hunter.

“I’m not a rookie, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she mumbled at last and if the tight tone did not give away that she’d rather not share details, then Dean knew from experience that most hunters had a tragic past that pushed them into this line of work.

The air down there grew staler with each step and darkness engulfed them. Dean did bring a lighter, at least, but even with that they had to be careful. The burrow turned out to be a large tunnel system. Perfect for any creature to pop in and out at various points. A flashlight might just attract unwanted attention

“Awfully quiet,” Dean remarked. “You think the wolf’s in here?”

“Sure hope so,” Phoebe sighed, gripping her gun just a little tighter. “I wanna get the kids out and burn this place to ashes.”

“Pyromaniac, are we?”

She didn’t respond to that. Even if she’d wanted to, their conversation was interrupted by another noise. Both hunters froze, ears perked.

Sobbing. Someone was sobbing.

“Hello?,” Phoebe called out, quickening her steps to rush towards the source of the sound.

So much for the element of surprise. Although the wolf did not seem to be within close range. For now, at least. Guided by the sniffles and crying, Phoebe and Dean turned the last corner and found themselves at the heart of the monster’s den.

The flooring was steeper, ceiling tall enough for Dean to finally stand comfortably. The same couldn’t be said for the kids within. Dean counted four of them, which matched with the recent missing person reports.

They were all cowering in a corner, little bodies curled up and shaking. Two of them, at least. The others lay there looking limp, like broken dolls.

“Rose,” Phoebe spoke and one of the girls lifted her head, tear stained eyes shell-shocked and face pale. “It’s okay, we’ll help you guys.”

It was the first time Dean witnessed a waver in the huntress’s voice. The woman swiftly approached the kids, checking up on each of them. A deep exhale followed.

“They’re alive,” she exclaimed in relief. “We gotta get them out of here. Rose, can you stand?”

The young girl stared back and forth between Phoebe and Dean and nodded weakly. She didn’t say a word, but she didn’t have to. So long as they’d get these children out of here, it would all be good.

Dean quickly took ahold of the two unconscious kids, carrying one on each arm.

Phoebe busied herself with stabilizing and encouraging the remaining two. They were terrified, clearly, and one of them had a nasty gash on his leg that looked like a painful infection. Tearing the sleeve from her jacket, the very same she didn’t want to get dirty earlier, Phoebe wrapped up the injury and picked the boy up onto her back.

“Look alive, guys, we’re as good as out of here,” she animated the group, nudging Dean forward.

“What about the wolf?,” Rose hushed, small hand in a death grip on the fabric of Phoebe’s pants.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean chimed in before Phoebe even had a chance to think about a response.

She might’ve known how to act quickly when necessary, but it seemed like Dean had the upper hand when it came to dealing with kids. She’s noticed as much earlier, when they were interrogating the Millers. Considering his tough guy act mixed with the grumpy attitude, Phoebe had to admit she did not expect it from him initially.

They made their way through the narrow space, retracing their steps carefully. While the beast was nowhere to be seen just yet, the very fact didn’t sit right with Phoebe. Worst case scenario would be for the predator to await them patiently at the exit, but she prayed her hunch would be wrong.

And for better or worse, it was.

Just as they reached the final slope, sunlight shining through the hole Dean had fallen into earlier, they heard it loud and clear. Deep growling, rustling through to their very bones.

“Shit,” Phoebe uttered and hastily pushed Rose towards Dean. “Get them out of here, now.”

Green eyes went wide.

“What?,” Dean scoffed, shaking his head. “This is no time to be playing hero.”

“Quick!,” she groaned, both annoyed and urgently, her voice leaving no room for arguments.

While Dean cursed under his breath, he lifted Rose up and helped her climb outside. Once Phoebe had handed him the injured boy, he repeated the process. In exchange, she briefly held onto the unconscious kids, though her wary eyes kept gazing around to find the source of the growls.

Reluctantly, Dean pulled himself up and climbed outside, reaching down to pick up the remaining two kids.

Once all four were secured, he extended a hand down to Phoebe, but she shook her head.

“Get them out of here,” she repeated her earlier instructions, purposefully ignoring Dean’s growing frustration.

“Are you crazy?”

“Maybe,” she shrugged, but flashed him a grin and — much to his surprise — held up his lighter in victorius fashion. She must’ve snatched it from his pocket earlier. “See you later.”

No matter how often Dean would call out her name, amongst other profanities (at least he tried to keep it PG13, considering he was surrounded by a bunch of kids), Phoebe turned on her heel and disappeared back into the darkness.

“Time for dinner, you bag of fleas!,” was the last thing he heard from her as she ran deeper inside.

She left him no choice. Dean seriously considered crawling back in and going after her, but how could he possibly leave behind an injured boy, a shell-shocked girl and two knocked out pre-teens? Whether or not you preferred to hunt solo, this was just reckless and he swore to himself he’d smack some sense into her, if the wolf wouldn’t take care of that for him already.

“Think you can walk?,” Dean sighed, sizing up the boy’s injury. Testing the movement, he gave a reluctant nod, but it was clear he wouldn’t be running a marathon anytime soon.

As long as they would get out of here in one piece, it would have to be enough.

Dean fulfilled his part of the task, taking the kids back and out of the field.

“Sam?”

His brother stood there, and so did a couple of police officers.

Excusing himself, Sam approached Dean while the officers tended to the kids.

“Dude, where the hell have you been?,” Dean groaned, clearly agitated. Almost skittishly, he kept glancing back over his shoulder, waiting for any sign from the redhead.

“I saw the cops approaching and had to buy us some time, looks like they didn’t listen to Phoebe’s request to wait it out,” Sam replied, before he too noticed her absence. “Speaking of the devil, where’d you leave her?”

“We found this burrow, she went back inside by herself,” Dean grumbled less than enthusiastically.

“You let her best you?,” Sam grinned.

“Shut it, ‘s not funny.”

Dean paced around once, twice, exchanged a couple of words with the officers, then grew too impatient.

“Screw it, I’m going back in,” he decided at last.

Sam couldn’t prevent him from hopping over the fence if he tried, but someone else was able to stop him in his tracks. A tuft of red hair appeared in Dean’s field of vision, leaving the older Winchester to yet again bump into her.

“Damnit, woman,” he groaned. “You ever think ahead? Ever?”

Phoebe blinked at Dean, unimpressed. She wiped a loose curl of red from her forehead, gazed towards Sam, then the police and the kids. When her eyes met Rose’s, her own softened, before she redirected her attention to Dean, whom she rewarded with nothing but a mischievious glint.

“You’re the one who keeps stumbling,” she reminded him and he wanted so badly to wipe that smug smirk of her lips.

Sensing from miles away that the bickering might just escalate, Sam chimed in: “What happened to the Roggenwolf?”

“Roasted,” Phoebe confirmed with a nod. “Sorry about your lighter, I had to toss it.”

Who cared about the damn lighter right now? Dean was still busy processing the fact that she’d run off by herself and returned within a couple of minutes as if nothing happened.

“You just set the burrow on fire?”

“Relax, not much down there to crumble,” she reassured. “It should go out by itself.”

An officer chimed in, thereby interrupting their conversation before Dean could further snap at the cocky pyromaniac. “Special Agents, I have a couple of questions.”

It didn’t take long for them to come up with a coherent story, and they didn’t seem to care too much. What mattered, at the end of the day, was that these children were healthy and safe and could soon return to their families. They’d have to get checked up on by doctors, but it seemed like they were unharmed for the most part.

Phoebe insisted on taking care of the rest, promising Sam and Dean that she’d handle the questionnaires and all. She stated she wanted to check on Rose and her family anyway, planning to drive after them to the hospital.

“It’s been a fun challenge, Winchesters,” Phoebe hummed, that damned playful smirk on her pink lips that had Dean’s brow twitch. “I’d say this point goes to me, though.”

“What are you—?”

Dean didn’t even get to finish his sentence, as Phoebe already put on her helmet, mounted her bike, gave a final wave, and drove off.

“It’s our point, give us some credit!,” Dean called after her, despite knowing there was no way he could still hear her.

“Seriously, dude,” Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. “Just drop it already.”

Though Dean did not drop anything. The whole ride back he kept rambling on and on about how he carried the kids outside and that he did just as much hard work as she did. At some point Sam let his brother’s complaints go in through one ear and out through the other.

Given that the night was still young, they decided to grab a final bite for dinner before they’d leave town. The local pub seemed like the safest option for a beer and some food.

Though, when Dean was still on his rampage about Phoebe, even as they were seated in a booth and nursing a beer bottle each, Sam finally interrupted him.

“Dean, the monster’s gone, the day is saved,” he groaned. “A win is a win.”

“Except you guys didn’t win this time, I did.”

Oh, that voice alone was enough to rile Dean up in all the wrong ways. Blinking up simultaneously, the brothers’ eyes met that of Phoebe’s. Her expression was as bright as ever, grin reaching from one ear to another.

“Scooch over, princess,” she hummed nonchalantly and squeezed into the two-seater, making herself comfortable right next to Dean.

“Who’s tailing us now, sweetheart? I thought— hold up, did you just call me princess?”

“I’m sorry, weren’t we just literally chasing a fairy tale like monster? Remind me, who fell on their ass like a damsel in distress and who defeated the monster again?”

“You fell on your ass?,” Sam snickered, though the death-glare Dean sent his way had his grin drop immediately. He quickly took a sip from his beer to shut himself up.

“What do you want?,” Dean groaned in Phoebe’s direction.

She was already a thorn in his side, a damn tick on his ass. Her casual attitude about their proximity was just the cherry on top, though. Of course she didn’t give a crap about personal space in the slightest. Too close for comfort, her shoulder brushed against his as she fumbled around in the pocket of her jacket.

“Clearing a debt,” Phoebe spoke calmly, pulling a small, silver item. “It’s not exactly the same, but it’s the thought that counts, right?”

Dean’s eyebrow quirked up in surprise as his eyes fell on a lighter. Phoebe slid it across the table towards him. The second he picked it up he realized it was a fancy one, the comfortable weight heavy in his palm, material solid. It had a pentagram engraved on one side, too.

“What’s this?,” he asked, confused.

“Uh, last time I checked, you call it a lighter,” Phoebe chuckled teasingly. “You click this part and there’ll be a little flame. Convenient, huh?”

“I know it’s a damn lighter,” Dean grunted. “Why are you giving this to me?”

“Well, I kinda lost your old one,” she shrugged. “And I don’t like being in other people’s debt.”

Dean blinked at her, dumbfounded. Then at the lighter, which he turned in his palm once, twice and a third time. It fit in his hand oddly perfect. He usually didn’t pay attention to these kinds of things. A lighter was a lighter, just a random tool, good for salt and burns. He must’ve sacrificed dozens of them in his life as a hunter — none of them this nice, though.

“It was just a lighter,” Dean stated, matter of factly.

“If you don’t want a replacement, I can—”

But before Phoebe was able to take it back, Dean held the thing closer to his chest and shoved it in his pocket.

“I’ll take it,” he grumbled. “Consider it your compensation for being a pain in our asses lately.”

She snorted softly, exhaled through her nose and leaned back in her seat.

“You guys did kind of help me,” she muttered and scratched the back of her head. “I’m usually not the best team-player, so…”

Sam glanced back and forth between the two briefly, before mumbling something about grabbing another drink from up front. Even though the seat opposite to Dean’s was free now, Phoebe remained right next to him.

Her eyes followed Sam, if only for an excuse to not look at Dean. She purposefully avoided his gaze, glancing at anything but him. The table, the napkins on the table, the logo on the napkins on the table—

“You didn’t just follow after us for a lighter, did you?”

Dean’s voice had her head snap up. Wide eyes stared at him like a deer caught in the headlights. Until she cleared her throat and looked off to the side again, anyway. He didn’t think he’d see her act coyly and shy, ever, honestly. It was as unexpected as it was endearing, strangely.

“Sam was right,” she mumbled awkwardly. “We should’ve just teamed up from the get-go. Just— Didn’t exactly have the best kind of experiences with other hunters.”

Though her explanation was rather vague, Dean knew what she was talking about. He, too, wasn’t always fully on board when it came to hunting with others. Sam, of course, was an exception, but does family really count in this matter?

Casually, he leaned back, one hand still holding onto the beer while his other arm was draped around the back of their seats.

“We did some pretty good work back there, huh?,” he hummed at last and never in a million years would Phoebe have guessed that he’d be the one to bite the bullet and admit that their cooperation had been… fun.

She couldn’t help but smirk, the fire in her eyes familiar to him by now.

“Well, I did most of it, but sure,” she winked to which he barked out a chuckle.

“I carried a whole daycare out of that burrow!”

“After you fell on your butt.”

“You’ll never let me hear the end of this, will ya?”

“Never.”

Conversation flowed and even though it was mostly conversation filled with playful banter, Dean’s beer bottle was soon exchanged by a second one and she was nursing a drink of her own. There must’ve been some truth to the whole alcohol loosening one’s tongue saying.

Liquid kept flowing, as did the laughter, and their chatter.

“Scoreboard says I’m in the lead with a solid 1-0, Winchester,” Phoebe huffed with a cocky smirk. “Doesn’t matter how you look at it, I won this case, fair and square.”

“What about that vampire nest in Colorado?,” Dean shrugged and tilted his head. “I know you were there, but if I remember correctly, I wiped it out.”

“And you did a horrible job at cleaning up,” Phoebe pointed out, rolling her eyes at the memory of running into a nest, guns blazing, only to find a bunch of decapitated vampires there already. “But, if you want to count the other cases as well, I’m still ahead of you, 3-1.”

Dean regarded her words for a moment, wondering just how many cases they had been on at the same time, maybe even without the other one knowing. Again, the past couple months have consisted of running back and forth on leads that turned out to be already solved.

He shifted in his seat, fingers brushing over his pocket. The lighter still sat inside it, heavy against his chest.

“You’re not the only one who likes to settle scores,” Dean spoke, voice lowered and eyes dropping to her lips.

“That so?,” Phoebe smirked. “Sounds like you wanna return a favor.”

“If you’re up for it,” he replied, his own lips curling into a smirk. “We’ll be even before tomorrow morning.”

Words that had Phoebe bite her lower lip and squeeze her thighs together. “You’re as unbelievable as they say,” she snickered. If he didn’t know it any better, he’d say he was getting under her skin.

But Phoebe Bennett, as far as he could tell, was not easy to fluster. And just like with everything about her, he liked the challenge. The faint hue of red dusting her nose was a start, one that made him wonder just how flushed she could get.

Dean leaned closer, one arm still resting behind her. Under the table, their knees were brushing together just barely. The electricity between them had her skin feel all fizzy.

His scent was earthy and it seemed to surround her completely. Soft leather and sweetened whiskey. A smell of something warm. Of something dangerous.

“Is that a no?”

Her eyes locked with his green ones, the color of which was almost consumed by dark pupils.

Although her voice was barely above a whisper, it pierced right through the dull background noises of music and patron’s chattering: “I never say no to a challenge.”

She didn’t need to tell him twice.

“Me neither,” Dean smiled back and they both got up, grabbed their jackets and left some cash at their booth. A fast stride lead them out into the cold of the night, though their bodies were already running warm.

Dean’s hand found hers on instinct, if only to pull her closer and whisper into her ear: “Where’re you staying, sweetheart?”

It was up to her to squeeze his hand and drag him along, across the road and around a corner. It only took them a couple of minutes to get to her motel.

The bigger struggle awaited them in front of her door.

Phoebe fumbled with the keys, a task that proved to be much, much more difficult with Dean’s hands at her waist and the scruff of his beard on her neck. His breath was warm against the shell of her ear, but his fingertips were burning up her skin the second he slipped them under her shirt.

Once inside, finally, all bets were off.

Dean kicked the door close behind them and in the very same motion pulled Phoebe closer. In his embrace, she turned around, taking a confident step to push his back against said door and her mouth against his.

His taste was even more intoxicating than his scent.

Dean returned the kiss with equal fervor, those hungry lips of his exploring her soft mouth, her warm tongue.

Only two things managed to break them apart: The lack of oxygen making them so dizzy they had to catch a breath, and eager pairs of hands impatiently tugging at fabric. They took off layer after layer, jackets and shoes pooling at their feet and forming a path towards the bed.

Dean had half a mind to retrieve a foil package from his wallet before discarding his jeans.

By the time he was in just his boxers and the only thing hugging her curves was thin lace, the back of Phoebe’s knees hit the mattress and she fell back onto the sheets.

Her chest was heaving, her skin already flushed. How could he not give her that boyish, cheeky grin, all cocky and victorious? Though whatever smart remark was on the back of his mind, it died on his tongue as she pulled him down on top of her and silenced her with another deep kiss.

Phoebe’s arms fit around his neck perfectly and her nails raked down his back deliciously, the ministration earning her a small grunt from him which she drank up like honey. His whimper was thick on her tongue and sweet and they both knew then this was going to be as much of a competition as the hunt had been.

Not wanting to fall behind, Dean allowed his hands to roam every inch of her body. Her back arched neatly beneath him, silky skin pressing into his touch and permitting him to unclasp her black bra.

His kisses wandered down her jaw and across her neck, settling on the spot right beneath her ear, because that was the one that made her shiver the most. However, she wasn’t going to surrender that easily. One of her hands raked back up, delicate fingers combing through his hair and giving it a firm tug.

While it didn’t stop him from latching onto her collarbone and travelling further south, nibbling and licking down the valley of her breasts, her taste did make him feel dizzy. She swallowed hard, her head falling back into the pillows so that her messy hair framed her reddened face in a way only a halo of fiery sunrays could.

Their dance was a back and forth on who could drive the other insane better — the match being rather even.

Dean hissed through his teeth as he felt Phoebe roll her hips intentionally. Her breath hitched all the same as she felt his hardness press against the plush of her thigh.

“Careful, sweetheart,” Dean rasped, voice husky and thick with need. “It’s not a marathon.”

“Feels to me like you’re the one who’s impatient,” she retorted with a chuckle, while looping one leg around his hip and pulling him closer. Her thigh draped around his body as if to invite him in, though he wasn’t sure if she was trying to lure him into a trap at this point.

Clearly, he wasn’t the only bold one here. Two could play the game of riling up, and fuck, was she good at it.

Dean’s grip on her hips tightened, firm enough to make her flesh feel all tender and almost bruised up. His fingers were sinking into her skin as if to anchor himself, or to stop her grinding motions.

“You’re in for it now,” he huffed, crooked grin on his lips belying his attempts at teasing her.

He hooked his fingers through the waistband of her panties, tugging them down in one swift motion. She obliged by lifting her hips, though his sudden action had her gasping and chuckling all the same.

“See, that’s what I meant,” she hummed nonchalantly, bringing her own hands down to his boxers.

Dean instinctively held his breath and his eyes did not leave hers. His hands splayed over her thighs, fingers drawing closer and closer to her folds. Subtle twitches of his muscles confirmed her accusations only further.

“So impatient,” Phoebe whispered sultrily, only so much as toying with the fabric of his underwear. Her fingers ghosted across the bulge inside and her grin widened as he tried bucking his hips into the tantalizing touch. “I thought you wanted to take your time?”

Dean fought the urge to roll his eyes. That girl’s tongue was way too sharp.

“You’re all bark and no bite,” he huffed, his thumb finding her clit and making her inhale sharply. “You’re just as eager.”

There was no denying that, not with her dripping over his fingers. She bit her lower lip, opening her thighs even more while Dean gathered her slick on his digits and slowly circled them around her entrance.

“Dean—”

Before she could complain further, though he did like that whiny tone of hers, one of his fingers slid into her with embarrassing ease. She cried out softly, which only urged him to add a second finger. A breathless curse left her plump lips as he pumped them in and out of her steadily.

He flashed his teeth in yet another cheeky grin. “You were saying?”

“Get fucked,” she scoffed, expression twisted into one of pleasure and annoyance all the same.

“What do you think I’m doing here?,” he laughed heartily and Phoebe felt the shudder run down her spine thanks to it. She blinked at him through thick lashes, the relentless pace of his fingers making her toes curl.

He had barely touched her yet and already managed to make her stumble across her own words? Not fair.

Unyielding, Phoebe worked her own charms. She pulled his boxers down enough for his erection to spring free and wasted no second to wrap her fingers around him. Stroking firmly up and down, her keen eyes caught every subtle twitch of his brows.

Dean wasn’t going to give up the upper hand that easily, though. His thumb drew tight circles on her swollen nub, applying the perfect pressure to her button.

“Fuck, Dean,” Phoebe moaned. While she was already close, the warm velvet of her walls squeezing his fingers like a vice, she was still too prideful to beg for anything. Even if that meant she had to groan and whine as he pulled his fingers out of her.

The shift of the mattress beneath her prompted her to blink up at the man again and at least the sight of him rolling on the condom soothed her frustration. A little bit, at least.

Deciding to help him to speed up the process, she sat up slightly, readjusting her own position so he could settle right between her thighs, his strong hands holding onto her waist while hers gripped his shoulders.

“Are you gonna show me some bite now?,” she grinned. No matter how out of breath she was, she’d always have it in her to talk back to him, it seemed. Her and that daring attitude of hers were out for trouble.

Not that he wasn’t up for the challenge.

Dean buried his face in the crook of her neck, his teeth sinking right into the hollow of her throat and drawing a broken yelp from it. Using the fact that her jaw fell open to his advantage, he shoved his fingers into her mouth right after. She fought the urge to literally bite back, instead just blushing as she realized she could taste herself on his skin still.

Phoebe played along, sucking on his middle and fourth finger until her lips brushed against the cool metal of his silver ring. Her tongue swirled around its edge, that look in her eyes a daring one.

Her sob was muffled, sounding so broken but beautiful as Dean sheathed his length into her without warning. Her body nearly jolted, were it not for his deathgrip on her. His forehead dropped to her shoulder with a grunt. He was giving them both a moment to adjust, before rocking his hips.

“Not so witty now, are you, sweetheart? Just needed someone to stuff that smart, pretty little mouth of yours, hm?”

She whimpered, that next thrust of his sending her eyes rolling to the back of her skull. On God, she would’ve come up with a snarky remark, but alas, his thick digits pressing down on her tongue prevented her from any commentary.

But, actions speak louder than words.

Squeezing his sides with her thighs, she switched positions with him, rolling over and straddling his lap. Her lips curled into a smile around his fingers as she looked down on him.

That look of surprise in those green eyes, wide and glimmering, always made her feel so very powerful. Putting Dean Winchester in his place gave her a kick like nothing else could.

Phoebe took his wrist and pulled his hand away from her mouth, releasing his fingers with a wet pop.

“You’ve got a lot to learn, Winchester,” she hummed lowly and gave a deliberate roll of her hips.

Dean’s breath hitched and he bit his lower lip and screw all if it wasn’t the prettiest sight she had ever seen. He was looking breathtaking like this. Strands of light hair sticking out messily from where her fingers had tugged at it. Pink lips puffy and kiss-bitten. Freckled face dusted in red warmth, especially around his nose.

“Takes more than that to tame me, cowboy,” Phoebe smiled daringly, pressing both palms to his chest, one to trace over his tattoo, the other to feel the quickened heartbeat beneath his warm skin. The pitter-patter was strong and relentless, making her feel just as alive.

She felt him throb inside of her and egged him on with another grind of her hips against his. In this position he was so damn deep that her thighs were quivering at his sides.

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Dean’s voice was thick with desire and hoarse, his breathing irregular as he hissed through his teeth. Not that he gave her a chance to answer. Not when he could make her gasp so prettily by just jerking his hips upwards.

“Fucking hell.”

They moaned in unison, their curses blending together perfectly.

Rough palms slid up her thighs and waist, only for her to be lifted up and slammed back down on his cock. It earned him the addicting sensation of her clenching around him, pussy fluttering as if she didn’t want to let go of him, ever.

He could get used to this for sure.

Their hands were everywhere, exploring every inch of skin. Every squeeze was meant for memorizing freckles and scars, every bounce and squirm intended to drive the other mad with lust.

When Phoebe was nearly shaking, Dean used the last of his strength to sit up and pull her close. She held onto him for dear life as he drove into her again and again and again, their skin slick with sweat and hot to the touch.

Their foreheads bumped together, noses touching, puffs of warm exhales mingling together as their dance became more and more erratic. One final thrust turned both their visions white. Liquid heat rushed through their veins with Phoebe falling apart in his lap and Dean slumping against her all the same.

Moans and cries echoed off the motel walls until the only noise left was heavy panting.

They fell onto the bed like one big mess of entangled limbs.

Once they had somewhat found their breath again, both rolled onto their backs, staring at the ceiling. What a day filled with tension could do to someone, huh?

Dean was the first to speak up, breaking the somewhat awkward silence.

Although, all he could come up with was a breathy “Wow.”

Phoebe laughed shortly and ran a hand through her tangled hair. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”

The green-eyed hunter chuckled too, before turning to his side and leaning up onto one elbow. She met his gaze, raising an eyebrow as she saw the toothy grin on his face. What a stark contrast to the continuous scowl and annoyed attitude she had been met with throughout the day.

“What’re you looking so proud for?,” Phoebe snorted playfully, but not even that was enough to wipe the confidence from his expression.

“Would you say we’re even now?,” Dean shrugged, almost chirped.

Phoebe burst into laughter and shook her head in disbelief. “What, like an orgasm scores a point?”

He shrugged, again, still grinning.

“Well, then I’d say we’re at a solid 4-2 now,” she hummed mischieviously.

The way his smirk faded almost made her feel bad. Her own grin softened, if only for a split second. She reached over, ruffling his already disheveled hair gently, then smoothing it over.

“There’s always a next game, champ.”

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minefield-of-a-ninja · 11 months ago

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Black Tie Optional: Final Part

Summary: The last time we saw Vanessa, she was swooning over Dean’s lasting impression. Now, we fast-forward a year to see what she’s up to.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC Vanessa Martinelli, (eventual) Sam Winchester x OFC Emma Olsen

Warnings for this part: 18+ ONLY, SERIES FINAL REWRITE BECAUSE FUCK THAT REBAR, "one thing about Dean Winchester is, if a Toddler handed him a toy phone, he'd answer it"

Words in this part: 4,800

Author's notes: Follow-up to Plus One.

Thank you, @brrose-apothecary and @stusbunker for the read-throughs and greenlight.

text divider by @talesmaniac89

Prologue | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

FINAL PART

The wedding party hits a few pubs on the way back to the hotel. Vanessa declares herself to be the “only sensible adult in this car” at their first stop and makes Sam take her place in the front passenger seat for the rest of the ride.

Dean watches her in his rearview mirror as she and Emma snap selfies in the backseat. From the very first moment he met her over a year ago, Dean knew she was special. She’s beautiful, yeah, but she’s so real and funny and smart.

Vanessa finally meets his gaze, and her eyelids flutter like they always do when she sees him like it’s the first time. He wonders if that’ll ever fade. Dean smiles, and she smiles back.

They pull up to the last bar and pile out onto the curb.

Dean rounds the hood of the car to where Vanessa is waiting for him as Sam and Emma make their way inside.

“Ya know, that little twinkle in your eye and this dress’re makin’ it hard for me to be a gentleman.” He steps close and reaches for her wrist, pulling her into him.

“Who told you to be gentle?” Vanessa slides her hands inside his unbuttoned jacket to wrap her arms around his waist. When her fingers bump against cold steel, she tenses. “Oh-”

Dean clasps his hands at the small of her back and looks down at her. “Just in case. OK?”

Vanessa relaxes in his embrace and nods.

“Kay,” he mutters, dropping a kiss to the crown of her head.

She questions whether she should be troubled by the gun at his back. But she isn’t; in fact, the discovery serves to crystallize what she knows about him into the perfect shape of a man she trusts with her life, and her heart.

“A’right, Big Guy,” Emma coos as Sam helps her out of the Impala for the last time of the evening. “You and me, utility closet.”

She smooths her hands over her hips and tosses her hair over her shoulders.

Sam cocks a brow as he lets the heavy backdoor close. “Well, then, I guess we better get movin’.”

Emma giggles, taking off in a sprint with Sam hot on her stilettoed heels.

“They’re stealing our moves!” Vanessa laughs as Dean helps her onto the curb.

“Borrowing, kitten. No one’s takin’ that broom closet from us.”

Vanessa’s chest warms from his words and the look in his eyes. At one point, she thought Dean would be nothing more than a thrilling memory and story to tell, which sustained her for a while. Now, though, the ability to savor each moment, knowing that once their door closes tonight, he will make her feel like the most deserving, most treasured woman in the building, if not the galaxy, is sure to leave her wanting when he leaves tomorrow. She knows that now.

“Yo, lovebirds,” Nicole calls. “Let’s get inside so they can announce the bride and groom and start dinner.” She nods toward the ballroom, and Dean and Vanessa reluctantly unwind from each other’s embrace to follow her and the others.

Emma and Sam are MIA, but Nicole summons enough grace not to call it out. Once the wedding party and their dates are seated at the head table, Toni and her new husband enter the room. The guests cheer, and the first dance begins.

During the first toast, the missing couple materializes at the head table, disheveled and flushed. Dean snorts a laugh as Sam takes a seat beside his date.

“Sammy, I gotta tell ya,” Dean leans across the table toward Sam. “I like the effect this girl’s got on you.”

Sam seems to blush darker, if possible. “Me, too,” he admits, flicking his bright gaze to meet Dean’s as Emma burrows into his side and the staff serves them salad.

The second course is served while Dean quietly immerses himself in a scenario where he and Sam aren’t hunting the sister of the Almighty. They’re bartenders or electricians with mortgages and dogs and car payments. The only reason either of them breaks a bone or bleeds is because of a mundane accident. They get eight hours of sleep at night and eat three meals a day. He regularly attends weddings and birthday parties with his beautiful girl at his side.

“Should we dance?” Vanessa’s voice creates a fissure of reality in his fantasy.

“Or maybe you don’t dance.” She tucks her chin to her chest and bats the thick dark lashes that frame her cerulean eyes.

Dean’s momentarily speechless as his daydream twines its way around the very real, very tangible, very beautiful woman facing him with anticipation. She blinks, and he can almost feel the weight of his imagined existence settling around them, shimmering in the pin lights that hang from the rafters.

“Dean?” Vanessa tilts her head with concern.

“It’d be an honor,” he answers, pushing away from the table to stand, offering her his hand.

Vanessa grins as she slides her hand across his open palm and stands to face him. “Such a gentleman.”

“Hmm. There’s that word again.”

They saunter toward the dancefloor, hand in hand and eye to eye, in time with the bluesy beat from Chris Stapleton’s cover of “Tennessee Whiskey” until they reach the edge. Dean drags her close with a flourish, one heavy hand at the small of her back, fingers teasing the skin that’s bared by the low-cut back of her silk dress, and the other lightly clasping her fingers in his palm. She rests her free hand over his heart and lets him lead the way.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you are?”

“You did. The last time was about 30 minutes ago, between the mixed greens and beef tenderloin.”

Dean nods. “Then I’m due. You’re beautiful.”

Vanessa smiles.

“Did I tell you how good you smell?” Dean draws small circles over the silky skin of her lower back.

“Probably.” She smirks, and he grins back.

“Did I tell you how hard it’s gonna be to wait another- wait, how long do I have to wait to get you naked?”

Vanessa throws her head back with a hearty laugh.

They dance through Chris Stapleton, John Mayer, and Calvin Harris, chatting with Emma and Sam until the DJ declares a free-for-all, and the rest of the guests flood the dancefloor for “Uptown Funk”.

“Aaand I’m done.” Dean twirls Vanessa once before turning and forging a path through the oncoming crowd, taking Vanessa with him.

“Not feelin’ funky?” She teases.

“Oh, I can be funky, but not that kinda funky.”

Before they get too far, Dean almost trips over Ari. He recovers quickly when the little girl stares up at him with big brown eyes that aggressively tug the strings of his heart.

“Ari, honey, you’re underfoot!” Silvia playfully scolds her granddaughter. “She just wants to dance.”

Ari sways side to side and bounces on the balls of her feet.

“There ya go!” Vanessa croons, reaching for one of Ari’s hands to play along with her. She’s only slightly taken aback when Dean reaches for the little girl’s other hand.

Ari giggles and hops up and down as the trio dances back toward the crowd. There are other people Ari could dance with; her uncles and aunts are all there, but she seems drawn to Dean and Vanessa. Especially Dean.

The DJ really likes Bruno Mars because he follows “Uptown Funk” with “Count On Me”. Ari pulls her hand out of Vanessa’s grasp and reaches for Dean to pick her up, and Dean doesn’t falter.

Unlike Vanessa, Sam is floored by Dean’s eagerness to entertain the pre-schooler. He watches with unrestrained curiosity.

“It’s pretty sweet of him to look after Ari like that,” Emma says, resting her temple against Sam’s chest as she watches the little girl twine her fingers with Dean’s.

“Yeah,” Sam replies. “Dean’s good with kids. I’m just not used to seeing him with kids for pure enjoyment.”

Emma looks up at him, brow arched. “Is that an allusion to the family business?”

Sam startles before meeting her curious gaze with a shrug. “I guess it is.”

“Really?”

He nods. “It’s complicated.”

Emma chuckles and rolls her eyes. “Of course it is.”

“No, I mean it.” He pauses, thinking about the times he didn’t tell the people he cared about what he did with his life, and they still died. “But... I’ll tell you about it. Later.”

“Are you sure?” Emma marvels.

“I’m sure.”

Five feet away, Vanessa watches Dean slowly shuffling side to side, holding the little girl on his hip. He spins in a circle like a Disney prince twirling his princess — like chivalry and devotion are embedded in his DNA. She wants to shower him with that kind of affection and tenderness, not just lust. And she’s fully aware of how hard she’s fallen for him with no way of getting up.

After a couple of songs, Ari has settled her head on Dean’s shoulder. A yawn and an eye rub beckon Silvia to collect her granddaughter for bed.

“Come on, Cinderella.” Silvia reaches for Ari, and Dean hands her over. “Don’t want you turning into a pumpkin right here in front of everyone.”

Ari nuzzles her grandma, waving to Dean as Vanessa takes her place as Dean’s dance partner. The couple waves back, bidding goodnight to Silvia and the little girl.

Dean refocuses his attention on his date, skimming an arm around her waist to pull her close.

Vanessa fiddles with his tie a little before speaking. It’s been such a nice night. She doesn’t want it to end.

“To answer your question from earlier, we can go upstairs any time you want after they cut the cake. But I have plans for tonight.” She meets his gaze. “So whatever you had in mind’s gonna have to wait.”

Dean holds his hands up in surrender. “No arguments here.”

As promised, once the cake is cut, Vanessa leads Dean to their suite. They have the elevator to themselves. As the doors close, Vanessa turns and slides her hands up over his shoulders and around his neck.

“I’ve been thinking about you all night.”

Dean smirks, mimicking her soft touch as he skirts his hands around her waist.

“You’ve been with me all night, kitten — don’t have to think too much.”

She shakes her head, her fingertips dancing over the ultrasoft nape above his collar.

“What you did for Ari tonight was incredibly generous. I just want to show you the same kind of warmth and generosity.”

Dean scoffs and fidgets under her scrutiny, pulling her closer so he doesn’t have to look her in the eye. “She’s a kid; it ain’t hard to be nice to kids.”

Vanessa gently pushes back a few inches to look at him. “It wasn’t just nice, Dean. You danced with her because her dad couldn’t be there. You salvaged the heart of a 4-year-old.”

Dean rolls his eyes and tries to pull away, and Vanessa keeps a hold on his wrists.

“I mean it.”

Dean sighs and finally stops hedging away as he settles his wary gaze on her.

“I know next to nothing about your background — your family, your day-to-day life — but I see the way your brother looks at you — like you hung the moon. And you give me confidence in a way no man has since my dad died.”

Dean’s brow furrows, and he steps back in to draw her closer. “I’m sorry, honey.”

“No, that’s not why I told you that.” She steps away and sighs.

The doors open at their floor, and she steps out of the car, pulling him with her in silence until they reach their suite. Dean keys the door open and ushers her inside.

“I’m gonna get out of this dress, but I still have some things I want to say, so...” she turns to face him as she kicks her shoes off just outside their bedroom door. “Get comfortable.”

Dean braces himself. “Whiskey comfortable, or boxers comfortable?”

Vanessa chuckles. “Boxers.”

She enters their bedroom and heads to the bathroom to change. After filling a couple of water glasses, Dean follows. He undresses down to his boxers and undershirt and zips away his formal attire in its garment bag. Just as he’s settling against the head of the bed to scroll his phone, Vanessa comes out in a bathrobe with her hair tied on top of her head.

Dean sets his phone aside. “I didn’t know bathrobes were sexy, but here we are.”

Vanessa grins as she climbs onto the bed and astride Dean’s hips. “Says you in your plain white undershirt and black boxer briefs. You’re beautiful.”

Dean tucks his chin to his chest, sliding his hands up her thighs to meet her bare hips. “What’d you wanna tell me?”

“Things I want you to know.” She smooths her hands from his shoulders over his chest and back again.

“Maybe you don’t wanna hear this from me, or maybe my opinion of this side of you doesn’t matter, but you’re a beautiful man, Dean, in every way imaginable — you’re beautiful. You’re tough and strong but soft in all the best ways.”

Dean drops his gaze to his lap, carefully considering his next words. He can’t tell her about gods and monsters. He can’t show her the decades-old bloodstains on his hands. He’ll never be able to 100% guarantee her safety from the things that go bump in the night.

But he can tell her some things.

“My mom died when I was Ari’s age,” he pauses, clearing his throat as he meets her eyes. “Sammy was six months old.”

Vanessa clamps her teeth over her bottom lip, biting back the emotion that threatens to well in her eyes. She nods, encouraging him to continue.

“Dad never really recovered. We grew up on the road, in the Impala and cheap motels.” He tilts his head, and his lips twist with a wistful smile. “The family business is... we help people. In ways a lot of other people can’t.”

“So, you’re not in the mob.”

“No, we’re not in the mob.”

“I’m a triage nurse. That’s why...” She motions to his scarred knuckles. “I recognize scars and injuries pretty quickly. It’s hard not to notice you and your brother’s.”

“Explains a lot,” Dean replies, thinking not only of her skills in assessing a situation but her instincts and her compassion.

“My dad was a cop,” she continues. “Killed in the line of duty. You remind me of him — in a good way — like how kind and attentive you are. That’s definitely not to say you’re like a dad to me.”

“Glad ya said that because I was startin’ to worry,” Dean chuckles.

“I don’t know if I can ever be as good as you,” she ponders. “As good as you are making people feel important — but I’d like to try to show you how you make me feel.”

“Mmm, is that the plan you had for tonight before we started talking serious shit?”

“Mmhm.” Vanessa nods. “The serious shit had to be said, but I know- I know this is a limited-time kinda thing. And I get it. My job is crazy, too. But I’ll think about you all the time, and I hope you’ll think about me.”

Dean studies her for a moment. The daydream from dinner floats back into his mind, but this time, she knows what he really does, accepts him, and he’s able to keep her safe. He wishes he could ask his dream self how it’s done.

“I’ll never stop thinkin’ about you, kitten.”

“Then let’s make the most of our last few hours, shall we?” She leans in for a long kiss, and Dean allows himself to be loved by her for one last night.

Dean sips his coffee as he and Sam depart the Windy City in the wee hours of Sunday morning.

“I told Emma,” Sam breaks the typically sanctioned early morning silence.

“You told Emma what?” Dean grumbles.

“About us,” Sam answers. “What we do.”

Dean blinks. “Wow. And how-”

“She believed me. That was my biggest fear — that she’d think I was making it up or something.”

Memories of Cassie, furious and cold, fill Dean’s mind. She didn’t believe him, and, really, who could blame her? Their life is absurd.

“What brought that on?” Dean asks as he merges onto the interstate, headed east, poking around for leads on Amara.

“I like her, Dean. A lot.”

Dean’s quiet for a while. He doesn’t know how Sam’s going to keep this going; he wouldn’t be able to, but if anyone can do it, it’s Sam.

“So... now what?” Dean’s genuinely curious.

Sam shrugs. “We take it slow. Keep in touch. How’d you leave things with Vanessa?”

“Left it where it’s at,” Dean answers immediately.

Sam rolls his eyes to look out the windshield and sighs. “So you think I made a mistake?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. It’s me, Sam. I’d fuck it up. You’re better at this stuff than I am.”

Sam opens his mouth to argue but thinks better of it; Dean’s made his mind up.

When Dean tells him that Vanessa knows more about his scars and wounds than a typical civvy, Sam tells him what he knows about Vanessa -- that she’s a triage nurse. He tells Dean that Emma’s also a nurse and that Nicole’s a surgeon. Dean’s response is less than appreciative.

“You know what, Sammy? I can do without the updates. I left it there for a reason. Drop it.” He gave Sam the same edged look that accompanied a threat to break his nose if he ever mentioned Lisa or Ben again, and Sam silently agreed to his conditions.

But Sam cares more about Emma with every passing phone call. She’s intelligent and rational enough to handle the knowledge of what they do, so he keeps her as apprised of his life as she does of hers. Over the next few years, he grows to openly love her in a fully rounded, adult way that he’s never known.

He begins to pity and then, later, resent Dean for ‘leaving it there’ because Sam loves Emma. He wants a real life with her. He knows that choosing to keep Emma in his life has made his life better, and he believes Vanessa could do the same for Dean.

Then one night, four years later, Sam and Dean end up in a place that demands Dean re-evaluate leaving Vanessa behind.

Canton, Ohio...

“Alright, let’s go find those kids and get them outta here.” Sam sheaths his machete.

“Sam. I don't-” Dean groans. “I don't think I'm goin’ anywhere.”

“What?” Sam looks over at his brother where he’s awkwardly stood against a post. “What’re you talking about?”

“There's somethin’ in my- somethin’ in my back. Feels like it's right through me.”

Sam walks closer, reaching around Dean's back. When he brings his hand into the dim light, he sees it’s covered with blood.

“Alright, umm.” Sam looks around the barn, wiping his hand on his pants as he reaches for Dean’s shoulders. “Hold on. OK. I got you.”

“No, no, no, no, no. Don't- don't move me. It feels like this thing's holdin’ me together right now.”

Sam huffs, reaching for his phone. “I’m calling Emma.”

“What? No. Just- just gimme a minute.”

Sam shakes his head. “No, Dean. No more minutes. Emma’s an ER nurse. Here in Canton. I’m calling her.”

Sam paces toward the barn door.

“Sam! Stay wi- stay with me. Can you stay with me, please?” Dean’s breath is labored, and his eyelids flutter.

Sam turns back to face his brother, keeping one hand on his shoulder while he holds the phone with his other. “I’m right here, man. I got you.”

“What’s wrong?” Emma's voice comes across the speakerphone clear and concise.

“We’re in a barn about seven miles north of the town center. I sent you a pin. Dean’s... impaled... on a piece of rebar. Against a post.”

Dean groans again. “Sammy-”

“Fuck. OK.” Emma’s voice is temporarily muffled, and then it’s obvious by the rushed way she’s speaking that she’s running. “Where’s the entry wound?”

“His back. I think his heart.” Sam winces as his brother’s head lolls and sways.

“Did it come through his chest?” She asks before muttering to someone on her end of the line to ‘head to the old barn down the road’.

“No- no, nothing in the front. Just the back. His clothes are soaked.”

“OK. Van’s calling the paramedics.”

“What?!” Dean wails, suddenly alert. “No! Not Nessa.”

“...but we’ll get there faster,” Emma continues despite Dean’s protestation. “And I’m guessing you’re gonna need help covering up whatever you were fighting.”

Sam would tell Emma not to bring her roommate and best friend if his brother wasn’t dying before his eyes. He wants to honor Dean’s wishes to keep her safe, but he’s exhausted by Dean’s insistence that telling her is a bad idea.

“Dean, this is happening,” Sam says before resuming his conversation with Emma. “Five vamps. How far are you?”

“We’re literally 60 seconds away. Do not remove him from the rebar until we get there. Find something to cut him down, and we’ll help. Hang in there.”

“See you then,” Sam says to Emma before disconnecting his call.

“Nessa can’t- I can’t let her see me, this...” Dean pleads.

“She can and she will. You’re not dying today. Emma knows everything, and Vanessa isn’t stupid. They’re coming to keep you alive, and I’m not arguing with you about this anymore.”

Sam quickly glances around the room until he locates the kind of tool he needs. “As soon as they get here, I’m grabbing those bolt cutters and cutting you down. We’ll go outside and wait for the paramedics. I’ll take the boys somewhere safe and meet you at the hospital.”

“All this time... was tryna keep her safe, away from all this.” Dean hangs his head.

Sam lifts his chin. “Dean, she’s strong. If there was ever a time to let her in, it’s now.”

Right on cue, Emma and Vanessa race through the door with bags of first aid supplies.

“Get the bolt cutters; we’ll hold him up,” Emma instructs, removing what looks like a camping chair from an orange bag and turning it into an emergency gurney.

Then Vanessa takes over for Sam.

“Nessa,” Dean whispers as she cups his face in her hands. “I’m so- sorry. I couldn’t-”

Vanessa sniffs and shakes back tears “No apologies. Just stay with me. I need to assess the damage here, OK?”

He blinks slowly and gives her a lazy nod.

“Where’s most of the pain, Dean?”

Dean shakes his head to stay awake, blinking rapidly. “At the entry. Everything else just feels... warm.”

“OK.” She moves to the side to give Emma room to take Dean’s other side as Sam works on the rebar with the bolt cutters. “Get as close as you can, Sam.”

She finally glances around the barn to see several decapitated bodies, the heads donned with masks. Her blood runs cold, and her heart races.

“Hey,” Dean’s voice cracks. “Don’t look at them; look at me, honey.”

Vanessa drags her gaze from the grisly scene to Dean’s pale face. She nods and gives him a weak smile before wedging herself under the opposite arm as Emma, keeping her eyes on him as he asked.

“Your breathing is labored. I’m guessing Sam’s right, and it’s your heart.” Tears fill her eyes as Dean tilts his head to rest against hers. She whispers. “Maybe your left lung. You’re lucky. Nicole’s one of the top Vascular surgeons in the country.”

“OK, I got a grip on this thing. Count of three,” Sam says before counting down and cutting clean through the steel.

The women hold him steady while Sam helps guide Dean to the stretcher and carry him outside.

“Fuck,” Dean breathes as Vanessa kneels beside him. “If I make it through this-”

“When. Not if.” She dips in to kiss him, hovering over him while Sam and Emma work quickly to hide the bodies in the barn. “You’re gonna make it, and you’re gonna tell me what I just saw in there.”

Dean blinks, and tears roll from his eyes. “I will, honey. I will.”

The paramedics arrive moments after Sam and Emma exit the barn. Vanessa gives them his vitals and a partially fabricated info dump as they work to stabilize him. As they load him into the ambulance, she climbs in.

“I got him, Sam. Meet us at the hospital.” She closes the doors, and the ambulance takes off.

Dean wakes up in a brightly lit room. He remembers bits and pieces of a conversation that he fears and prays is real. When his vision clears, and he sees the person beside his bed, he’s 90% sure of what he remembers.

“Nicole?” he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. “You an angel?”

Nicole smirks and arches a brow. “Cute. I’m your surgeon, tough guy. This is what we call a post-op check.”

He’s now 100% sure.

“Post-op? What op?” He tries to joke as he shifts his weight very slightly and groans in pain.

“You showed up here last night with a hunk of steel through your heart and lung. I took it out.” She checks his pulse, pokes at him, and prods. Dean’s 90% sure she’s being a little rougher than normal. “Good thing your brother didn’t ghost Emma like you ghosted Van.”

“Ow!” And 100% it is.

“And, hmm,” she taps her chin. “You do know my name.”

“‘Course I do, I’s just fuckin’ with ya.”

Nicole rolls her eyes. “You’re doing great, Dean. I’ll be back later to check in again. Meanwhile, there’s a couple of people here to see you.”

Nicole draws the curtain that separates Dean from the rest of the room. On the other side sits Sam and Vanessa.

“Eat something if you’re hungry; otherwise, rest.”

Nicole breezes out of the room, leaving Dean with Vanessa and Sam, the latter of whom stands next to Dean’s bed, looking down at his bruised and bandaged brother with a tired smile.

“You hungry? I can order you some food.”

“I’m starvin’, man. Get somethin’ bad for me.”

Sam rolls his eyes and chuckles. “Sure thing. Be back in a bit.”

He gives Vanessa a pointed look as he leaves the room.

Vanessa remains seated on the vacant bed across from Dean’s. She’s silent and thoughtful.

“You uhh, workin’?”

She shakes her head. “Just finished my shift.”

Dean nods. He doesn’t know if he should jump right in or what, so he asks her a question.

“How much do you know?”

She draws a deep breath and sighs. “That you saved two little boys and probably dozens more the other night.”

Dean closes his eyes. “Vampires are real.”

“Jesus,” Vanessa whispers, standing and moving to the side of his bed. She grasps his hand tightly. “What else?”

“Ghosts, ghouls, shapeshifters, werewolves, fuckin’ demons. They’re all real. Angels.” He squeezes her hand. “Angels are dicks, by the way, which is kinda shitty that I asked Nicole if she was one after she saved my life.”

He chuckles, and Vanessa huffs a surprised laugh before settling on the edge of his bed. She strokes his forehead, and he hums. “I won’t say I wish you’d told me before now because I’m just grateful you’re alive to tell me now. Your recovery will be lengthy. You’ll need physical therapy.”

Dean reaches for her other hand, twining their fingers together and waiting for her to meet his gaze. “OK.”

“I’m not your doctor, so I can’t advise you officially, but as someone who loves you, I hope you’ll stay long enough for me to help and... for us to get reacquainted.”

Dean grins, realizing just how bone tired he truly is. He yawns through his grin and tugs her close.

Vanessa dips in to press a kiss to his forehead, each cheek, and his lips. “Please stay,” she whispers.

Dean tilts his chin and meets her lips again, brushing back and forth. “OK, kitten. You got me. As long as you want me.”

When Sam returns to Dean’s room, he finds Vanessa curled around him, keeping him safe and warm. She and Dean are both fast asleep, smiling and breathing steadily.

Sam leaves the macaroni and cheese on a tray and backs away to leave them in peace.

Series master list | Dean Winchester Masterlist | SPN Masterlist | All Fic Masterlist

#dean winchester x original female character #dean winchester x ofc #spn finale rewrite #spn finale

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dw19791967 · 3 months ago

Text

That Feeling Part 3

Pairing: Dean x reader (eventual), OFC Tyler

Y/N POV and Dean POV

Warnings: language, unrequited love, angst, unwanted kissing, depression, anxiety, and feelings.

Trigger Warning: This fic contains discussions of depression and anxiety and feelings that go along with those. If that could be triggering for you I would skip out on this one. It is based on some experiences I have had in real life.

*All mistakes are my own!

I'm back (kinda) here's part 3. I'm thinking possibly two more parts. Let me know what you think!

-Layla

*I do not own this gif

Y/N’s POV:

It has been 5 months since one of the worst nights of my life. I started therapy and have been doing a lot better. It was kinda weird at first talking to someone about my life issues and past traumas, I spent a lot of time just sitting there trying to figure out what to say, especially since I can’t mention anything about hunting. But overall it’s been good. I’ve been taking better care of myself, spending more time with the boys, mostly Sam. Dean has been distant lately but I figured it was because he has spent so much one on one time with me the last few months. Sam has helped me start exercising daily (even though I hate it with every fiber of my being). I’ve lost around 10 pounds which is great considering I still eat a ton of take out. I’m starting to feel like my old self again. I took a break from hunting and started writing, that lasted a hot minute before I was tired of staying home.

Being back in a routine was good, I feel good.

We are on the road currently Sam caught a case about missing bodies. One of my favorite things. They think I’m weird for enjoying the quiet of cemeteries, but I know it’s because the dead are easier to deal with than the living some days.

“Ok, we got four missing corpses. Gladis Bramford was the first, mid 80’s when she passed. They found her head a few counties over, still missing the rest.” Sam was typing away on his computer.

“Who the hell takes a head only?” Dean had a grossed out look on his face.

I laughed.

“Evidently someone had big plans, poor Gladis.” I poked Dean in the shoulder.

Sam rolled his eyes. “The strangest part was her eyes were replaced with red glass, they haven’t been able to figure out which funeral home she was housed at before entering her final resting place.”

“So what do we think, grave robbers, ghouls, demons?” I asked Sam.

“Not sure, we will have to see after we check the head out.”

_________________________________________________

Sam went to check out the head while Dean and I looked over the case files.

“You doing ok sweetheart? I know I haven’t really checked in on you lately.” Dean looked at me.

“For the most part yeah, I feel a lot better than I did. I think taking time to get my head on straight helped a lot, plus therapy.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Dean smiled at me.

I missed spending time with Dean. But I hadn’t pushed him, I figured he needed a break from me and I understood that. I can be a lot sometimes and he has his own stuff to deal with. It’s not easy being my friend. Plus after everything I realized I probably will never be comfortable enough with myself to be with someone. I’m in love with him and probably will always be. Knowing he’s here but I can’t have him is a hard pill to swallow but I’m working everyday to move past it. I know he deserves better and I know I’m not it.

“You haven’t heard anything from that douchebag right?” he continued reading over the files.

“He actually messaged me a few weeks ago from his facebook account. Asked how I was and hoped I was doing better. I ignored it and he kept sending messages, saying he was sorry and he was a dick, blah, blah, blah. I blocked him.”

“What an asshat, he must have balls the size of Texas to reach out to you after the stunt he pulled.”

“I guess so, I was upset by it but I’m moving on.” I smiled at him.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, you didn’t deserve that, any of it.”

“It’s ok Dean, I’ve accepted what has happened and I’m moving on. Choosing between a man and a bear, I’d choose the bear.”

“You don’t mean that, you just haven't found the right man yet.”

I scoffed. “Dean… I’m an overweight, loud mouthed, cursing, strong willed woman, who has extreme trust issues. I doubt I will ever find a man who is ok with that, plus I don’t think I want to put myself out there again, who knows what will happen.”

“Just have me greet them with my glock, I’m sure it will go great after that.”

I laughed.

“In all seriousness I hope you do find someone someday Y/N, you deserve the world whether you believe you do or not.”

My heart sank. The only man I want is right in front of me and he will never want me.

“Thanks De.” I got up to pat him on the shoulder.

“Where are you going?”

“I just need some air.”

“Y/N I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t, I just have a lot on my mind and need a break.”

He frowned.

“It’s ok Dean, really.” I gave him a small smile.

Once I was outside and had the door closed I broke down, I can’t keep doing this to myself.

_________________________________________________

Dean’s POV:

I didn’t mean to upset her. I was trying to give her hope.

It has been five months since I saw Y/N break. I’ve never been so scared in my life seeing her crumble under the weight of the world. I had to step back, let her get her head on straight without me. I don’t want to get used to relying on her to make me feel better. She needs to take care of herself, not me. I missed spending time with her but I knew it was for the best. Plus I know Sam is a better influence. I’m no good for her.

My phone was buzzing.

Sam.

“Hey man.”

“Dean hey, is Y/N with you?”

“Nah, she’s taking a break.”

“Oh, ok. I was going to let you guys know the cops think it’s a serial grave robber, evidently this has happened before. From everything I’ve checked out, I don’t see a relation to a monster. Maybe we should just let the cops handle it?”

I sighed. “Yeah that’s fine, we can stick around for a few days to see if anything happens.”

“You ok dude?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just worry about her.”

“I know you do, but she’s doing better.”

“I know man, I just feel like I’m losing her. I know I stopped hanging with her but I wanted her to be able to heal without me looming over her.”

“Dean, she probably thinks you need a break from her, you know how she thinks.”

“You’re right Sam, I didn’t think about that. God, I messed up.”

“She’ll be back man and you can talk to her, I’ll go grab us some food before I head back.”

As Dean was finishing his call with Sam, she sneaked back in.

“She’s here now, talk to you soon.”

“Everything ok?” she asked.

Her eyes were red, she had been crying.

Shit, I’m an asshole.

“Uh yeah, Sam said cops think it’s a serial grave robber, it’s happened before. Told him we could stick around for a few days and see if anything happens. He’s grabbing food, and should be back soon.”

She nodded.

“Y/N I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” I got up to go towards her.

She backed away.

“It’s ok Dean, I’m just being over sensitive right now.”

“No you’re not, I shouldn't have brought it up.”

“Dean it’s fine really, let’s just drop it.”

“I don’t want to drop it Y/N, I’ve been awful to you these last few months. I was trying to give you space to heal and it backfired. You think I hate you or can’t stand you. Neither is the case.”

“I understand Dean, I know I can be a lot. It’s ok.”

I raised my voice “But it’s not, I feel like I’m losing you!”

She began to cry.

“Dean, I was doing fine, great even. Until I realized the biggest part of me was missing you. Sam was great at helping me, sure, but you told me you would stick by my side and you didn’t. I really get it. I’m annoying as hell. Everyone deserves a break. But you know I would do anything for you, hell I have and I know you have done a lot for me. And the fact is, I’m not yours to lose. So stop apologizing, put your big boy pants on, and move on. I’m not going to keep doing this!”

_________________________________________________

Y/N’s POV:

Dean took a step back and sighed.

He can’t keep doing this to me and I can’t keep doing this to myself.

I could tell I upset him.

I rubbed my head and sighed. “Look, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I just don’t need to keep hearing your apologies alright, I get it Dean. You forget I know you better than you know yourself. I’ll be ok, please don’t beat yourself up.”

I moved to hug him.

He held me in his arms.

Then spoke, “You know I can’t do that sweetheart, beating myself up is my number one hobby.” He laughed.

“Well you need to stop, especially when it comes to me.” I moved back.

“I just need to know it’s going to be ok Y/N, I know I messed up but I will be better. Promise.”

“I know Dean, I know.”

Taglist:

@hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog

@deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist

@pandasrdbest2341

#dean winchester series #supernatural #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #spn fanfiction #supernaturalfanfic

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theygotlost · 5 months ago

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come play venture bros postcanon tuoys with me? :)

hank isnt interested in higher education or a full time career and he literally wrote down his dream job as "drifter". I see him taking up a lot of odd jobs and sporadic minimum wage stuff but really i believe he was meant for the stage. shallow gravy never makes it big time but they get like the weirdest most random gigs ever and eventually they release a full album and everyone fucking hates it and hank gets called a nepo baby. which is true. but going beyond the music hank is always dressing up and playing characters and ofc there was the time he called himself destiny and refused to take off the strength suit you see where im going with this YEP Destiny is his drag name. and im imagining destiny playing shallow gravy gigs so she'd have a kinda gothy alternative amy lee aesthetic going on and she would slay.

in case you havent noticed I hateee that dermott joined OSI it just feels forced and his buzzcut is ugly. dont worry though I can fix this. the thing about dermott is that he talks a big game but in reality is a pathetic loser. it's like that episode of malcolm in the middle where reese joins the army but crumbles as soon as he's faced with combat training. dermott either drops out or gets kicked out for doing something stupid but either way they probably have to wipe his memory and its like it never happened. outside of shallow gravy i see him doing random blue collar stuff and like... riding dirtbikes and shit. also he was probably lying about having a pilots license but idk maybe he does have one. i think he should have one

dean says he doesnt know what he wants to do with his future so his major at stuyvesant is probably still undeclared rn... but remember that for a while his dream job was "boy reporter" and he even printed that adorable little home newspaper so that points to a career in journalism. in the second half of the show dean's vibe is "im probably transgender but there are supervillains trying to kill me so i don't have time to worry about that right now" and being able to have a (relatively) normal college experience away from home around people her own age would be the final push she needs to start transitioning. also i have this vivid image in my mind of dawn becoming a photographer and i have no idea where it came from but that would fit well with the reporter stuff and she could be a photojournalist! but I also see her being interested in fashion photography and doing all of destiny's glamour shots and stuff so that's her hobby that does outside of work .and she NEEEDS to be an obnoxious twee amateur photographer living in NYC she deserves it she's earned it !!!!!

triana's probably an accomplished sorceress by now!! goddd i miss triana i just want her back. idk if she would move to new york permanently but she would come visit her dad and get to hang out with dawn again. and she's realized shes a lebian and they get back together PLEASEE? :3 im not really sure what she would do with her sorcery powers but I guess she could be a low level superhero? she wouldn't be interested in anything crazy like saving the world but she would have fun busting up low level bank robbers and classic stuff like that and she and jared could hang out. or perhaps she's available for hire and will do magic stuff for whoever

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these-emo-thoughts · 3 months ago

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Pit Babe Anniversary Rewatch! Episode 1!

I can't even begin to describe how happy I am to be rewatching one of my favourite shows and sharing in the joy with others 🥹 Below are my thoughts of the episode as I watched it, I'm trying not to simp so much for the show and the actors entirely, but I think I failed in that department 🤣

So, in the words of Speed of Love - Let's go! Let's go, let's go, let's go! 🙌

Theme song is still an absolute banger and the clips for the intro are fan-fucking-tastic ahhhhh I'm so excited!!

Hello, old friends 🥹 Yes, even you Winner, lol.

ESPECIALLY YOU WAY 🖤

(Why is it fitting to me that Way is reported to have a fabulous record for the racing season? Is it because he's played by the fabulous Nut Supanut? Yeah, probably 🤣)

Thank you Alan for the omegaverse commentary 🙏

Vroom vroom

Babe is so freaking beautiful, ugh

Ohhh, that lil fist-bump between Babe and Way when Babe comes out of his 'concentration'... my heart is already like, hurting, lol

HELLO CHARLIE! Look at you in your suspicious lil get-up, creeping in the corner, lol

Actual racing in the racing omegaverse show - I swear I didn't forget, lol

Sonic in his coat 😍

Okay but Dean being part of the team and being so supportive... my boy 😭

The uncle-being-single bashing began really early didn't it 🤣

OKAY CAN BABE AND WAY STOP BEING SO CUTE TOGETHER???

One of my favourite things in any BL is one character pinning another one against the wall and keeping them in place by holding their arms. What I like about Babe doing this to Charlie is that cute lil smile Charlie gives Babe when he turns around after his face-mask is removed 🥹

I get Babe, Charlie's request for a car is a weird one, I'd be confused too LOL

I LOVE how smug Babe looks, I bet $100 he did NOT think that Charlie would take his bait which is why he's egging him on so much

But damn, Charlie can give back just as well 👀

OKAY BUT Charlie hesitantly trying to kiss Babe on the lips but Babe turning to the side so he gets a cheek instead and then shrugging like "idk" is just perfection

And when Babe realises that Charlie doesn't have an alpha scent and then smiles like he's won the lottery and then gets super into it? Amazing.

North pls you are my favourite social media vlogger, I love you LOL

Lmao I would hate to be in Charlie's position, with everyone betting how long I'd last with the great Pit Babe. And ofc, Way starts the betting LOL

HERE HE IS, THE WORLD'S BIGGEST LOSER, WINNER, COMING TO STEAL THE SHOW SPOIL THE PARTY

AGAIN, I WOULD HATE TO BE CHARLIE RN LMAO

Love that Winner has an entourage cheering him on for some reason, he's so smug too about winning the first round (bb boy, you're not winning much else this series so enjoy while it lasts LOL)

The romantic break with Charlie and Babe looking at each other while Babe is doing doughnuts has me hollering

Idk how Babe won the drifting when there were two rounds and he and Winner each won one, but CONGRATS BABE

And congrats Charlie for not being Winner's new plaything, lol

It really does feel like Babe has never met a person like Charlie before doesn't it? Charlie from the get-go makes it clear he doesn't want to take advantage and is fine with Babe saying no to not staying over to sleep. Pavel's subtle acting really makes it seem as though Babe is mildly surprised, imo

KENTA BABY BOY, HELLO, I MISSED YOU AND YOUR CREEPING ASS 😭

TONY!

Alan in a singlet top 🥵

There's a lot of vroom vroom in this episode 🏎️

Wise uncle Alan giving such great words of advice to Way about his feelings for Babe too bad he doesn't FOLLOW IT

Charlie, like, transforms when he's doing a sex scene with Babe. His eyes, his expression, it's all so seductive

The "no kissing" trope, ugh, yes (made even better with the way Babe is SQUISHING Charlie's cheeks)

I'll still... never get over the design of this house 😭 or the fact that it was used as the restaurant for This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans LOL

Charlie's little "bye bye!" is so cute

Babe's mood swings, imma get whiplash, Charlie is god's strongest soldier for weathering that storm lol

Charlie the maid without the uniform 🤣

I'm assuming this was a slight timeskip and was not just the next day because of how Charlie says they've already had "test drives" many times by now lol

They're already so domestic, I can't-

The "bye bye" again, so CUTE 😭

The father (Alan), son (Babe), and holy spirit (Way) of X-Hunter LOL

From the very BEGINNING Way is planting the seeds of Charlie being sus, set up for us to believe it's because of his not-so secret feelings for Babe - a red herring if I ever saw, and done so well

God, even when Charlie is waving "bye bye" to Way it's cute. I don't ever remember him being this adorable in my first watch, but I'm smitten now 🤣

Charlie not getting jealous that Babe checked out another man and instead saying "I don't know why you found me special" 😔

BUT IT'S SO CUTE HOW BABE TALKS TO CHARLIE HERE AJSFALFJSL, they look so HAPPY!!

Man, I know he's the absolute worst kind of villain, but I love S Vorarit so much, lol

AHHHH the phone call! Innocent lil Charlie isn't so innocent after all!

Ep 2 preview 👀

KIM! WELCOME!!

Way looks so much like a good friend in the preview: "keep an eye on Charlie", bc we just saw from that phone call we might not be able to trust him 👀

And ofc the iconic behind the scenes that Change so generously gives us (more pls 🤣)

Such a great first episode, very much enjoyed the rewatch, hopefully will get to Ep 2 tonight as well (BABY BOY JEFF WAS NOT IN EPISODE 1 AT ALL 😭)

#pit babe #pit babe the series #pitbabeanniversary #thai bl #episode 1 #pit babe rewatch #change 2561

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monstermoviedean · 2 months ago

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the thing is. does cas ever actually really apologize? i remember him saying “i failed you dean/jack/ma—” and “i dropped by the ball” and like yes he is visibly guilty which implies he’s sorry, but i genuinely can’t recall him ever actually verbalizing “i’m sorry” regarding his actions or mary’s death itself??

and look i’m not saying that would’ve made everything better. ofc not. but i’m the type of person who genuinely really appreciates verbal apologies, giving and receiving them. and i guess it just bugs me a little, personally, that cas says he “already apologized” to dean about mary when he sorta kinda didn’t? and then it turns into a fault of dean’s? idk idk i guess i’m just rambling and ranting in your asks lol

i was wondering this myself so thank you for giving me the perfect opportunity to go back and look!

tl;dr he says "i'm sorry" about not telling dean and sam about jack killing felix, and he says "sorry about rowena" once she's dead. that's it. all attempts at apologies under the cut (and some response to the rest of what you said)

disclaimer that it's possible i missed something, but i scanned the transcripts for 14x18 through 15x03 and here's everything i can find cas saying that is apology-related.

apologies in 14x18:

so this is definitely an apology for not telling them about felix. it's an explanation of why he wanted to believe jack was good and why he didn't tell them. it's somewhat accepting responsibility for mary's death BUT. he is trying to say he failed her. not that he did anything wrong, but that because he failed while trying to do the right thing, that's why she's dead. i get what he's going for but i think that a statement like "i failed" is often expected to be followed with "no you didn't, it's okay." it's not the same as "i'm sorry" to me, though i do think cas was genuinely trying here.

nothing in 14x19, 14x20, 15x01 (mostly cas defending jack and suggesting he did nothing wrong or didn't know he was doing something wrong)

15x02:

he again names that not telling dean about jack was an issue, but then it's "what happened with your mother." it's oddly divorced from the context. it's kind of passive. like it was some tragic accident that couldn't have been prevented. i think cas might think it was an accident, and i think that's okay - but i would imagine dean would react poorly to hearing it framed as an accident when someone killed his mom.

aaaaand 15x03:

that's it. that's the apologies.

there's definitely feelings of guilt, and attempts to take responsibility, but in doing so cas is extending the existing patterns. he's not apologizing. he is saying "ah, it's my fault and i feel bad so i will fix it by doing good things" and then not communicating about that or trying to learn from his mistakes. for me, the "i'm sorry" matters, but the intent matters more.

totally respect your position on verbal apologies - that's entirely valid and i get it! just speaking for myself here. if cas didn't say "i'm sorry" but was clearly trying to change his behavior in a way to repair their relationship and make up for what he'd done, i would be okay with that. if he said "i'm sorry" but didn't really seem to mean it, it wouldn't sit well with me. but here he seems to genuinely believe he has apologized, he has done enough to earn forgiveness. and that's a little baffling to me. i'm not expecting cas to give a therapy-speak perfect apology but i'm expecting a little more than this.

thank you for rambling and ranting in my asks i always appreciate it <3

update: i think cas felt remorse for what happened to mary. not questioning that. but i also think he was apologizing more because he wanted to move along with the process. he wanted to apologize as soon as possible because the logical steps go: 1) cas apologizes 2) dean accepts and/or forgives and/or makes cas feel better about it 3) back to normal. and i can understand cas wanting to get back to normal and this being an expression of grief. but i also don't think dean is wrong for not wanting or being okay with that.

#spn #14x18 absence #15x02 raising hell #15x03 the rupture #15x09 the trap

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 3 months ago

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The Quicksilver Princess Chapter 6

Series summary: A fantasy AU in which Dean is part of a long line of warriors who protect the kingdom. What happens when his rescue of the little princess with the quicksilver eyes gets him a possible future bride?

Series Warnings: Nothing major. Show typical violence. Fantasy violence. Smut. Angst. Fluff. Each chapter will have its own specific warnings. So, watch for those.

Chapter Warnings: None really. A bit of magical violence. A kiss. Some angst.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x OFC (Melissande)

Word Count: 7,907

A/N: First of all - I'm so sorry for the length of this chapter. There was a lot to get through. 😁🫣 Secondly, I'm so unbelievably happy that I FINALLY got to give this story an ending! I've loved writing it, but fantasy is tough! Lol! But I'm happy and proud of the story as a whole, so I sure hope you enjoy this final chapter. And to those of you who've read the story and encouraged me to continue, thank you so much for your patience.

I know OFC's aren't most people's favourites, but I encourage you to give the story a shot, and I hope you enjoy it. ❤️

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

Melissande strained against the chains that held her immobile on the cold, stone table, even though she knew her struggles were pointless. She wasn’t nearly strong enough to break the iron binding her.

Layo’ita began to gather things from around the room, filling the pockets of the long black cloak she wore over her royal finery. She wore no elaborate headdress or hairstyle now, instead the wide hood of the cloak kept her face slightly in shadow.

She gathered plants and herbs, potions, many colorful crystals, and a small silver dagger, preparing everything, and going about her evil plan while she spoke.

“You have no idea how patient I’ve had to be, how meticulous with every detail.” She looked back to where Yasa stood slumped weakly against the wall. Melissande was terrified by his increased pallor. He raised his head slightly to watch Layo’ita as she continued.

“It would have been much easier if you weren’t such a nosy, troublesome thing.” She said to Yasa, her tone annoyed. “I hadn’t planned on duplicating you until this one turned eighteen.”

She waved dismissively towards Melissande. “But you just had to galavant off to your beloved Winchesters and try to outsmart me.”

Her smile was shadowed. “I took care of them without much trouble. But their meddling forced me to enact my plan much earlier than I’d wanted. It takes a lot of power and strength to hold on to a Duplicate, to make them seem natural and believable. I certainly wasn’t planning on having to keep it up for a dozen years!”

She huffed out a breath, clearly feeling put upon. “The difficulty with a Duplicate is that they give a sense, after a while at least, that something isn’t quite right. The smell begins to cause doubt and there can be no contact because of their cold skin. So, on top of everything else I had to take care of, I had to work at changing your reputation, sending out whispers that your brush with assassination had made you afraid and nervous to be around people.”

Sha laughed lightly. “No one seemed to miss the real you very much, or push to see you. Fooling people got easier as your reputation as kind of a recluse spread.”

She shook her head. “I’ve tried so often to fix the issues with the Duplicates, but I simply couldn’t manage it. It is very frustrating.” She claimed in an annoyed tone. “But it’s why I knew early on that I needed to make you to say goodbye to your visits with this brat and whore wife number four. If you’d kept visiting, they’d have known you too well and recognized the differences very quickly.”

Layo’ita pushed back her hood to reveal another ghoulish grin. “So, I convinced you that my heart was broken, made you believe I actually cared where you spent your nights or how many bastards you fathered.”

She snickered and looked at Melissande. “It was surprisingly easy to convince him to walk away from you and Hera. Hardly more than a few tears.”

Yasa shook his head. “That’s not true.” He said weakly, looking at Melissande. “It’s not true, poppet. I was just trying to do the right thing.” His body sagged further down the wall. “I’m sorry.”

Melissande shook her head. “I know, Papa, I know. It’s alright, we’re together now; that’s all that matters.”

Layo’ita cackled. “Oh, yes, yes! Together again - but not for long.”

Yasa’s breathing was short and slightly labored, as though standing for so long had sapped him of what little strength he had. His voice was thin, but it held a note of steel as he spoke again.

“Layo, I don’t understand. Where does this hate for me come from? We were friends once, weren’t we? I always tried to afford you the respect and care you deserved. Is this simply because I couldn’t love you? The heart pays little attention to anything but its own tune, you must know that. I did everything I could to honor my duty to you and our son.”

Layo’ita scoffed as she began to chop up some of the plants, along with what looked to Melissande to be a human tongue, tossing them all into a large, gold bowl.

“I couldn’t have cared less whether you loved me or didn’t.”

Melissande heard a flicker of something in the First Queen’s voice that told her that she did care, much more than she admitted.

“I don’t hate you." She continued. "In fact, I don’t care about you at all, except that you’re in my way. I’ve always known I was born for something great, that the old gods fashioned me for power. But instead, my whole life was simply about learning to be your wife, a mother to future kings who would rule. But never me.”

She stopped chopping and set down the knife, walking closer to Yasa. “I didn’t want you to honor me as the ‘First Queen’ and I never wanted to be your ‘True Wife’.”

Layo’ita shook her head. “My whole life I was taught to stand beside power.” Her voice dipped low. “But I knew I was born to wield it.”

She looked over to Melissande. “But it wasn’t until this bouncing baby brat came into the world that I finally realized just how to make that power mine.”

She went to the small fireplace set into the southern wall and tossed some more of the plants onto the flames. They gave off an acrid scent that made Melissande’s eyes water a little. The Queen stirred them into the low burning flames, watching the plants burn up.

“I didn’t know what she was right away, but I knew she’d be special. I’d heard the legends of course of other Coll family members and ancestors who’d had the quicksilver eyes, but she was the first one in a very long time. And I just knew something like that had to come from magic. So, I began digging into the history of the family.” She paused to look back at Yasa with a smile. “Your aunt would have been proud at how well I learned my lessons from her.”

She shrugged. “It didn’t take long for me to realize you were descended from fairies, and that’s when I knew how to rid myself of you, and take on the power of the crown all for myself.”

Yasa attempted a laugh that came out as a cough. “Come on Layo, you don’t actually believe that nonsense, do you? Do we look like fairies? It’s just an old, silly legend, made up by one of my ancestors, no doubt, to try and make the Coll family seem even more suited and destined for the throne.”

Layo’ita just shook her head with a mysterious smile. “You’re wrong, Yasa. You’ve always underestimated magic. You shouldn’t.”

Melissande heard her father’s words and the strangest feeling came over her; it was like something deep in her soul was shouting out a denial of what he was saying. It wasn’t a legend; it was real. She knew it like she knew how to breathe; it was instinctual, automatic. It was an odd feeling when just the day before she’d had almost the exact same reaction as her father when Rowena told her she was part fey.

But there was something about being in this place, so completely submerged in magic, that made the reality of her lineage very apparent to her. Something inside was screaming at her to believe, to soak up the magic surrounding her and allow it to flow through her.

Layo’ita stabbed at the fire with a poker until the logs and plants burned together into embers, and then into ash which she scooped up into a smaller silver bowl. She brought it over to the table where Melissande lay, and from inside her pocket she withdrew the silver dagger. She chanted something and then sliced a small, but fairly deep cut in Melissande’s left arm, making her gasp at the sting.

The First Queen rested the silver bowl beneath her arm, collecting her blood as it leaked from her veins. She took the bowl away, allowing the blood to trail down Melissande’s arm and onto the table. Then using the dagger, she mixed the ash and blood together, continuing to chant as she spread the sticky paste that it made, over Melissande’s feet and across her forehead.

The chants turned into a slow, soft song, as Layo’ita began to arrange the plethora of crystals she carried, around the outline of Melissande’s body. When she was done, Melissande felt the crystals warming her up in the cold chamber, each brightly colored stone giving off ripples of heat.

Layo’ita picked up the silver dagger again and approached Yasa. “Duplicating you, keeping the kingdom from knowing the truth, has been exhausting for these last twelve years. Every day, I’ve worried that this would be the day someone figured it out. I simply can’t go on like this forever.”

She shrugged. “So, my answer is to soak up your essence to put into my Duplicate, so he looks real and right. No more traces of sulfur, no more cold skin. But still very much under my control." She smiled. "I've found my solution at last."

She sighed. “Unfortunately, the only way to collect your essence,” she raised the dagger, “is to cut it out of you.”

“No!” Melissande shouted.

Yasa’s pallid face looked defiant and proud as he stood to his full height, in spite of the way his legs shook with exhaustion. Layo’ita looked slightly amused at his pride and defiance.

“You forget yourself, Layo. Do you not recall that you gave me a son, an heir. You can strike me down, but one day he will come to claim his crown and avenge me in the process.”

The Queen cackled again. “Oh my dear, I would be surprised if he even remembers you. I’ve been assured that he’s quite happy governing in The Lands Beyond and holding on to his own little piece of the world.”

She shrugged again. “But, if the babe I birthed tries to come and claim what I have taken, well, then he’ll meet your same fate.”

The First Queen lifted the dagger, aiming it at Yasa’s heart and Melissande saw it flash in the light of the dying fire as she screamed out her horror.

***

Four more Winchesters had joined Dean’s ranks before they set off from King’s Town, and as it turned out, sixteen experienced and well-trained Winchesters were more than capable of taking down the Guardsmen.

At the witching hour, under the cover of night, the Winchesters blended into the darkness and silently approached the castle. They split into four groups of four, and each team was charged with securing one of the North, East, South, and West facing entrances.

They’d agreed at the outset to do everything they could to not kill the guardsmen. Despite their extreme dislike of the order, and the grudge they held against the usurping guardsmen, they all begrudgingly agreed that the soldiers were just doing their duty in protecting the castle. So, they would do all they could to spare them.

But in the end, some of the guards fought bravely and gave the Winchesters a real challenge, but a great many of the guardsmen surrendered as soon as they saw the Winchesters fighting like the Warriors they were.

Dean, Robert, Jody, and Ketch made up one team, going through the North-facing entrance. There were approximately thirty soldiers at that entrance, and only six of them put up a fight, battling hard. But the Warriors still won handily, with only a broken nose for Ketch and two broken fingers for Jody.

After they’d been subdued, Dean grabbed one of the more cowardly looking guardsmen and demanded that he take him to Mellie.

“Now!” Dean shouted and the man trembled as he rushed to obey. Dean had to shake his head a little. How on earth had the kingdom stayed safe with these guardsmen as its protectors?

Jody and Ketch stayed to watch over the guards left behind, and to coordinate with the other Warriors to make sure everything was going smoothly in the other battles. Dean and Robert followed the guard down endless flights of stone steps until they came upon the dungeon in the bowels of the castle.

They left the guard tied up at the entrance to the row of dungeon cells, and proceeded down to the last cell where the guard said Mellie was being held.

They slowed as they approached it, taking extra care with their surroundings, looking for booby traps, or something that would keep them from reaching her at the last minute.

But nothing appeared to attack them, and they approached the cell. Dean wanted to let out a whoop of relief as he saw Mellie behind the bars, lying on the hard ground.

She’s alive. He thought with cascading relief.

She was dirty and she shivered slightly in her sleep, but she was alive. Her brow puckered as though she was having bad dreams, but she was alive. Dean approached the bars as he sent Robert back to the guard.

“Get the key.” He told the older man, who raced off to find it. Dean called softly through the bars.

“Mellie, sweetheart, wake up. Wake up, I’m gonna get you out of here.”

Mellie’s eyes flickered open, and confusion filled her expression for a moment as she sat up. But then she saw Dean and she gave a cry of surprise and happiness.

“Dean!” She jumped to her feet. “Oh Dean, you came! I knew you would.”

She approached the bars slowly, hesitatingly and Dean smiled at her warmly to let her know she was safe. As she drew nearer a slightly foul odor hit his nose, something like rotten eggs, and it made him want to take a step back. But he gave himself a mental shake.

Gods, man, he thought to himself, she’s been snatched up and thrown in a dungeon. What were you expecting her to smell like, roses?

He smiled at her again. “Robert’s gone to get the key, then we’ll get you out of here, somewhere safe, with a couple of Warriors to protect you and Robert and I will stay and demand to speak with your father, and try to find out what’s going on here.”

Mellie nodded. “Please be careful.”

Before he could respond, Robert was back with the key. Dean took it from him and pushed it into the rusted lock, unlocking the cell and pulling open the squeaking door. He rushed inside and ran up to Mellie, taking her upper arms in his hands, intending to pull her close. But when he touched her he was surprised.

“Mellie, you’re like ice.” He said with a frown, chafing her arms. “Robert, see if you can find a blanket somewhere.”

Robert nodded and set off. Dean took Mellie’s icy hand in his, intending to lead her out of the cell. But as her hand slipped into his, a sense of something dark slithered down his spine and suddenly his instincts were screaming at him, warning him.

He turned to look down at the woman walking beside him, and he was somehow sure something was off. For one thing, Mellie was never this quiet. She should be asking him a thousand questions about how they got in and who was with him. She should be saying “I told you so.” because the Winchesters had listened to him as she’d said they would.

He dropped her hand and stepped back from her. She looked slightly confused and a little hurt. “Dean, what is it?”

Dean shook his head, more sure than ever. He jerked his chin towards her. “I have no idea what you are, sweetheart, but you sure as hell aren’t Mellie.”

Remembering suddenly, Dean reached into the pouch on his hip and pulled out one of Rowena’s magic-revealing bags, and it glowed bright purple. Grabbing a matchbox from the same pouch, he quickly lit a match and then set the bundle ablaze.

In slight horror, Dean watched as “Mellie” went stone silent and unmoving before she went up in a literal puff of smoke. The air around him radiated the purple color as it thinned to a trail that led towards the back wall.

“Robert!” He called and the elder Warrior ran in, clearly confused by the still settling smoke and the purple air around them.

“It wasn’t her.” Dean said succinctly. “I don’t know what kind of illusion that was, but it was obviously meant to keep us from finding the real Mellie, and to keep us distracted until it’s too late.”

He pointed to the purple path in front of them and how it disappeared into the wall. “This is a protection bag from Rowena.”

Robert rolled his eyes. “You went to one witch to save you from another? What are the chances that she isn’t helping her?”

Dean shook his head. “No, trust me, we can trust her. On this at least. The bag glows purple in the presence of magic, and when it’s burned it reveals the magic that’s been used. This magic seems to be in the very air around us, and it seems to be leading us there.” He said, pointing.

“Into a wall.” Robert said, deadpan.

Dean nodded. “I wonder what’s on the other side.”

Robert nodded. “Alright, how do we break through?”

It took them far longer than Dean wanted to find equipment to try to chip away at the stone. His stomach was once again in his throat as he realized the eclipse was approaching fast.

But once they had pickaxes, they began pounding away at the stone and put a hole in the wall mercifully quickly. Once there was a small opening, the men tore at it with their bare hands, loosening rock and shoving it aside until there was a hole big enough for them to squeeze through.

When they were on the other side they saw they were standing on a landing at the top of a very long staircase. The stairs went on for so long, and went so deep beneath the castle, that they couldn’t make out the bottom of the steps; it ended in sheer darkness.

Though it was starting to fade, they still had the purple light in the air to follow, and it led them straight down the stairs.

It seemed to take forever to reach the bottom, and eventually the purple light disappeared completely, forcing Dean to strike match after match in an attempt to keep them from pitching headfirst down the increasingly damp stairs.

Finally, they reached the bottom, and followed a very pale light that was burning in the one and only cell. There was no one inside, and Dean wondered why the light still burned inside the cell.

Finally, he decided to burn the other bag, and see where the purple air would take them next. It had them continue down a very long corridor, until they finally reached a small, oval, wooden door. They were in the process of trying to find a way through, when Dean heard Mellie scream in terror and without hesitation, he smashed his body through the door.

***

It all happened so quickly; one moment the Queen was a breath away from murdering her father right in front of her, and the next moment there was a massive crash as the door splintered and Dean came charging through it.

Instantly Melissande’s eyes were filled with tears. “Dean.” She whispered.

Before she could do more than blink away the tears however, Dean and another man ran at Layo’ita, swords raised. With a blast of blue light from the center of her palms she threw the men back, spinning them through the air to land in a heap on the floor.

Dean got to his hands and knees and took cover behind a shelf full of tiny vials of potion. The older man sought cover as well, but didn’t find it quick enough and Layo’ita blasted him again, sending him crashing into the wall this time and knocking him out cold.

The Queen slowly walked towards the shelf Dean was hiding behind, shaking her head. “Now, now, hunter, you failed spectacularly at the mission I sent you on. But if you’re very good, I’ll let you stay alive for the show. As the sun rises, the moon will usurp its place in the sky, and the world will go dark. Then I will make my mark upon this land, and then the next kingdom, and the next and next, until all the world is held in the palm of my hand.”

Dean’s voice was deeply sardonic as he spoke. “Wow, it seems to me, like maybe you need a new pastime. You know, something else to focus on besides the whole, world conquering insanity. Cause, I mean, let’s be honest. Who the hell are you to claim ownership of the entire living world?”

Melissande could hear the rage in the Queen’s voice as she shouted at him. “I am born of the old gods, crafted by them, my destiny set down by them, written into the turning pages of time, before the world began. I am chosen among all the-”

“Got it!” Dean interrupted her. “You’re the very bestest and the gods really, really like you. That’s great, but I suppose that means I’m gonna make those old guys pretty angry when I put my sword through your black heart.”

Melissande could see the way Layo’ita’s face contorted in fury. “How dare you? You know you don’t stand a chance against me, boy! You mock the old gods, but they’re at my back, they guide me and give me power.”

She walked to one side of the shelf, creeping slowly, hiding her approach, but as she swept around to the back, Dean charged out from the other side, swinging his sword in a downward arc, coming within a hair’s breadth of taking off the queen’s head. But she jumped back just in time, and fired a bolt of magical power at him, tossing him aside, into the wall beside her father.

He rose again quickly, but not fast enough. Chains snaked out of the wall to wrap around Dean’s chest and thighs, pinning him in place. When he was completely immobilized, the Queen waved her hand and another set of chains wrapped themselves around Robert where he lay, still unconscious.

She approached Dean, wearing a smug smile. She reached out towards him, and used magic to pry his hand open and let his sword clatter to the ground.

Dean gave a frustrated growl through clenched teeth as the Queen reached him. She raised her hand up to run it down his cheek, and Dean turned his head, trying to jerk it away from her. But there was nowhere to move to.

Melissande watched his jaw flex tightly as Layo’ita ran her fingers from his cheek, down over his neck, and then across his broad chest.

The Queen sighed slightly. “You know, you certainly are a beautiful man. I might have to keep you. When the world is mine, I might need a pet, someone to keep me…entertained.” She moved her fingertips to his mouth and traced his bottom lip.

Dean turned cold eyes her way. “Yeah, good luck with that, sweetheart. Cause trust me, I bite.” He snapped his teeth at her fingers, and she just barely got them out of the way in time. She laughed, clearly exhilarated.

She practically purred at him. “Yes, I must find a place for you in my bedroom.”

“Get away from him!” Melissande shouted at her. She felt sick seeing Dean chained up and at the mercy of this fiendish madwoman. She’d brought this on him.

Layo’ita turned laughing eyes her way. “Oh, little princess, does it bother you to see him with someone else? Did you imagine he was in love with you just because he married you.”

When Melissande’s eyes grew wide, Layo’ita smirked. “Did you think I wasn’t aware of that pathetic attempt at trickery? But you won’t have to worry about that much longer. In fact,” she closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, “soon you won’t have to worry about much of anything."

She looked up at the ceiling. “The sun is rising.”

There were no windows in the chamber, but somehow Melissande knew she was right; it was as if she could feel it on her skin.

The Queen returned to Melissande’s side, pressing her hand to her forehead as though she was checking Melissande for a fever. But she chanted softly, effectively ignoring the woman beneath her hand as she continued the ritual she’d been planning for nineteen years.

When her chant ended, she seemed to be almost in a trance, and she wandered back towards Dean and Yasa. The King seemed so faint now he could barely hold his head up. Layo’ita bent to pick up the dagger she’d dropped when Dean smashed through the door, and tilted her head to look at Yasa, studying him.

But then she raised the dagger in her hand again, and again Melissande screamed out in terror. “Papa!” As her scream crescendoed, something happened that hadn’t happened the first time.

One of the crystals on the stone table, the orange one beside her shoulder, cracked into shards and the pieces sailed across the room towards the Queen. The sharp splinters of rock sliced into her cheek and she screamed in pain and surprise.

She whipped around to see Melissande’s shocked expression as she felt something churning inside her. Something that felt as though it rose up from the bottom of her soul and the very tips of her toes. Without conscious thought, two more crystals splintered and hurled themselves at Layo’ita, making the woman scream at Melissande in frustration.

“What do you think you’re doing you little brat? Who do you think you are?”

Words swam up into Melissande’s mind, Rowena’s words, and she spoke them outloud.

“I am the direct descendant of Queen Caryn'se, Ruler of the Fae and these ancient lands from the time the world began.” She shook her head. “You think the old gods created you to be a force of power and tyranny, but I think you’re wrong.”

With almost no effort, Melissande snapped the iron links that bound her, sitting up and grasping two more crystals in her hands. The Queen shot a bolt of power at her, but it sparked out and died like a fizzled candle before it could touch the Princess.

Melissande felt her body begin to buzz with an inexplicable energy, powerful and potent. But it didn’t scare her, it excited her, and it cradled her, protected her as she stepped down from the table and faced Layo’ita as she continued.

“I believe that when the old gods crafted me, they fashioned my veins and filled them with the blood of the fey, the blood of Caryn’se.” She held up the crystals in her palms. “They gave me the protection of the earth, the protection of Sanso’ye itself. The land of the silver-eyed people belongs to my ancestors, and we will not allow you to make our people suffer any longer!”

Melissande’s voice was vibrating with power, and she could see the white light that surrounded her, emanating from her entire body. As the Queen tried to bombard her with more and more flashes of dark magic, Melissande looked to where her father and Dean stood chained. Their eyes were wide with disbelief, but then Dean smiled as she caught his eye. It was a warm smile, and it even looked a little proud.

Melissande sent another crystal flying towards Dean. The gem barely touched his chains, but they quickly fell away. As soon as he was free, he immediately leapt for his sword.

Layo'ita spun to face him, hand raised to throw more magic at him, and the chains had started reaching out for him again.

But Melissande shook her head. “No.” She said softly and four crystals broke apart and shot through the air to stab into the Queen’s skin, causing her to screech in pain.

Her scream was short-lived, however as Dean got ahold of his sword and swung it true, following through on his promise, and plunging it through her heart.

The Queen’s face, skull-like and imobile, nevertheless wore a look of unbelievable shock as she fell backwards off of Dean’s sword and landed in a heap on the ground. Blood plumed across her chest, and as her last breath rattled out of her lungs, the Queen reached towards Melissande, as though, even in her last moments of life, she was desperately trying to grasp onto power.

After the Queen's death rattle, silence reigned for a moment, and Melissande could feel the power that had surged through her, begin to ebb, slowly melting away until she was just herself again, just a girl standing on very shaky legs.

Dean dropped his sword and ran to her, grasping her cheeks; his eyes flicked over her face quickly, taking inventory. Then without a word he claimed her lips in a stunning kiss, sweeping his tongue into her mouth and stamping her with it. He swallowed down her surprised cry, turning his head so he could slot his mouth over hers again and again.

They might have stayed like that forever if not for the King softly clearing his throat.

They nearly leapt away from each other as they were interrupted. They looked over to where Yasa stood, still weak and leaning against the wall, but also free from the chains. Melissande’s eyes widened.

“How did you get out of the chains?”

The king pointed to where Robert was stirring slightly, his chains were also broken and laying on the floor. Yasa shrugged. “The magic died with her, I suppose.”

He smiled and raised an eyebrow. “I hate to pull you apart, but I do believe we should get out of this vile place.”

Dean sprang into action. “Yes, of course, Your Majesty.” He looked at the man’s spindly limbs and bit his lip. “I mean no disrespect, Your Grace, but there are many, many stairs to climb in order to get out of here. Will you allow me to carry you out?”

Yasa nodded. “Thank you Winchester.” As Dean moved to pick him up though, the King put a hand on his arm. “I owe you my life, and my kingdom and I want you to know, it wasn’t truly me who…who ordered your father’s death and your brother’s imprisonment. John and Sam were incredibly decent and loyal men, and I will make immediate moves to see to it your brother is released and your father is pardoned of all false crimes. I’m so sorry that I ever called on them for help.”

Dean’s jaw ticked and he swallowed sharply, but he shook his head. “No, Sir. You have nothing to apologize for. My father died trying to protect his King, as he’d vowed. And now that people will know that, he can rest peacefully and honorably.”

Dean swallowed tightly again. “But I’m very grateful to have my little brother back as soon as possible.”

The King nodded. “It shall be done.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Dean said before he easily picked up the stick thin man.

Melissande felt her heart constrict as she imagined the joy waiting for Dean when Sam was finally freed at last. But she shook her head at her father. “Yes, we’ll do it all, but first, I believe I promised you warm soup and warm blankets.”

***

Two months later:

In the time that followed there was much rejoicing and reuniting; the kingdom learned slowly about all that had happened at the castle, both twelve years ago and at the equinox. Astonishment was high, but as time moved forward, the astonishment turned into great joy. A huge celebration was planned and many, many people were invited.

All the King’s children had been called back home for a time, the invitation extended to their families as well. Yasa was determined to reconnect with his children, explain what had happened, and meet his grandchildren. He was slowly gaining weight, and color had returned to his skin, so he was more than ready to receive the rest of his family.

Melissande was slightly nervous about seeing her siblings again, or in the case of her eldest brother, seeing him for the very first time. But mostly she was excited, and she was happy that her father had survived to see his children all gathered under one roof.

Queen Hera had been given a place of honor for her eternal resting place. She'd been buried within the King’s Castle graveyard where Yasa could go put flowers on her grave easily while he recuperated. Melissande had caught him talking to her a few times when she came to pay her respects. Her father had been embarrassed at first, but she shook her head.

“No, Papa, don’t be ashamed. I talk to her all the time.” Tears filled her eyes. “I miss her very much, but I think she listens to us and it makes her happy to hear from us.”

Yasa nodded and kissed the crown of his daughter’s head. “You have your mother’s gentle spirit, and kind, loving heart.” He chucked her chin and winked at her. “But I’m gonna take credit for providing you with the fierce, unimaginable power you wield like a sword on behalf of your people.”

Melissande laughed. “I think that part comes along with these.” She said, pointing to her silver eyes and giving a shrug. “So, it probably does come from your side.”

When it came to her powers, she was still a little daunted by them, but with Rowena’s help she was beginning to learn about them, and how to manage them.

There was some pushback from the church as the Kingdom made moves towards embracing the old gods and magic once again. But the King told them simply that this had always been a realm of magic, and when you repressed it, or left only a few to practice it, you ended up with power-hungry rivals for the throne and no one to check them.

There was a lot of grumbling at first, but those on different sides of the issue were starting to come together and at least work towards peace and harmony.

One of the happiest moments for Melissande in the months after escaping from the Queen’s wrath, had been when the prisoners were freed from the mines. It wasn’t only Sam that had been wrongly imprisoned. There were many that Layo’ita had sent to the mines simply for questioning her or for stating their opinion.

When they’d returned, seeing families reunited had brought on many happy tears. Watching Dean and Sam crush each other as they embraced for the first time in over a decade, had made her sob noisily into her handkerchief.

While the kingdom was being set to rights and the Warriors were returned to their former place of honor within the kingdom (some of the guardsmen who’d defended the castle so stoutly were taking the vow as Winchesters), it was easy to stay busy and distracted.

But as the celebration approached, and preparations fell into the capable hands of their craftsmen and artisans, Melissande found herself with a lot of time on her hands, and she began to contemplate what the future was going to look like for her and Dean.

She knew he’d only married her to keep her safe. So, now that she was, what would he do? He’d been reinstated as a First Line Warrior and had returned to his duties at the Winchester Keep. He was at the castle fairly frequently, helping the King set his defenses in order and shore up security around the kingdom since it had been allowed to become incredibly lax under a Queen who didn’t care about the people.

So, Melissande saw him fairly regularly, but they never spoke about their situation. It was always just polite conversation in which he addressed her formally as “Your Highness” or “Princess Melissande”. He never called her Mellie anymore and she missed the sound of it on his lips.

She also missed his lips, and his hands, and so many other parts of him. She missed the way she always felt so safe with him nearby, missed the way he teased her, or purposely tried to bait her. She just missed him, and she was starting to think that now that his duty was done, he was no longer interested in anything to do with her.

But she thought about him all the time. She thought a lot about the wedding night that they never really had; she dreamed about it too.

Then one day a messenger arrived with a package for her. She saw that it came from Dean and she ripped it open excitedly. But when she saw what was inside her heart stopped beating and then plummeted to her stomach.

Inside were papers that had already been drawn up by the church and signed by Dean, papers that officially annulled their marriage, and set them free of one another. Dean had included a note at the bottom that said simply:

Have your father sign these as well, and it will be official, and you’ll be rid of me at last.

Melissande heard the teasing in the written words, could easily imagine the way his green eyes would sparkle, and the way they would crinkle at the corners as he smiled.

Her heart was broken and she ran to talk to the one person she knew would listen and not judge her for loving a man who didn’t want her. She knelt at her mother’s grave, rearranging the old flowers around her new ones.

“I don’t know what to do, Mama. I just love him. He’s so brave and strong and true. I know that sounds like the words of a lovesick fool, and I suppose I am. But they’re also the truth. He’s so honorable and chivalrous and…oh, Mama he’s so handsome. I think about him all the time, about…well about him kissing me or…well I just think about him. His voice and his laugh and…”

Her tears streaked her cheeks. “But he’s dissolving the contract between us, making it as though it never was.”

She wiped her cheeks and sniffled. “I suppose it’s fair. He only married me to keep me safe and to do the noble thing. Now that I’m safe, the kind thing to do would be to let him out of his obligation.”

She took a shuddery breath. “Yes, it’s the honorable thing to do.”

***

Dean walked into the King’s private antechamber, expecting to be discussing training for the new Warriors, and how the Keeps would be updated to accommodate the new men and women. But as he entered, the King waved at a seat beside him, bidding him to sit down.

It was highly unusual. Generally he met with the King and a few members of his new Council. So being here alone was already strange, but also, Warriors stood during meetings, and they were certainly never invited by the King to sit beside him.

But not wishing to disobey his King, he perched on the edge of the seat and nodded at the sovereign awkwardly. “So, would you like me to list the supplies we’ll need to improve and expand the Keeps?”

But Yasa was shaking his head. “No, no. This isn’t a formal visit. I had some questions to ask you.”

Dean felt his heart beat a little faster. “Alright, Your Majesty. I’d be happy to try and answer them.”

The King was quiet for a moment before he turned inquisitive eyes on Dean. “Why did you marry my daughter?”

Dean felt his stomach twist into a knot. Why the hell was the King talking to him about this? He and Mellie had already explained how and why the wedding had taken place, and Yasa had seemed fine with it at the time, maybe even a little grateful for Dean’s help.

So, what had changed; why did he want to discuss this now? Was this because of the annulment papers? Were there things he needed clarified?

Dean cleared his throat. “Well, as we told you, Your Grace, at the time, not knowing the full plans of the First Queen, it seemed like…”

Dean trailed off as the King waved at him. “No, no. I know the official reason, I know you meant to keep her safe, and I’m very grateful for that. But I suppose I meant to ask, was that the only reason? Or…is there a way you could see yourself staying married to her now that she’s safe?”

“I’m afraid…” Dean cleared his throat again. “Sire, I’m afraid I don’t…I mean, I’m not sure what you’re asking. I…of course I never dreamed of keeping her shackled to a mere Warrior. She no longer requires the protection of my name or my sword, so as any good subject would do, I’m removing the obligation of our vows.”

Yasa nodded. “I see…so…you don’t love her?”

Dean’s heart began to beat triple time. “I’m…Your Grace…I don’t…my feelings don’t matter one way or another. I’m a Warrior, Melissande is a Princess, I have no right to feel any way towards her. I’m all too aware that I am not worthy of her hand.”

“Hmm…” The King stroked his chin and then reached over to pull some papers off the table beside him. Dean recognized the annulment papers, but on top of them was a letter in neat, slanting handwriting. The King held it up.

“This is a letter from Hera that she sent to me on Melissande’s eighteenth birthday. Of course, having been trapped in a dungeon, I only just got around to reading it. The letter talks about what an amazing woman Melissande has become, but then she goes on to talk about you.”

Dean frowned. “Me?”

Yasa smiled. “Yes, lad, you. She explains how you saved Melissande when she was just a little girl.” A shadow passed over his features. “Somehow that information never made it to me either, and I wasn’t in a dungeon then.” He sighed. “I have a lot to make amends for.”

He shook his head and continued. “In the letter, Hera says that when you saved her, she offered you Melissande’s hand when she came of age, but you said then too, that you were not worthy. But,” he lifted the letter, “she thought you were. In fact, she knew you were. And I would have to agree.”

Dean shook his head. “Your Majesty -”

Yasa cut him off. “You’ve now saved my daughter’s life twice. You saved me, and the kingdom.”

Dean scrubbed the back of his neck with his hand and stared at the floor. “With an awful lot of help from your daughter.”

The King smiled. “Yes, she was remarkable. But you fought to get to us and you stabbed that wicked witch through the heart so she could never again threaten our kingdom.” His voice became more impassioned. “Your father gave his life, and your brother gave his freedom in defense of our kingdom. Now, if that doesn’t label you as worthy, I don’t know what would.”

At a complete loss for words, Dean could only fidget on the chair and look anywhere but at his King.

Yasa’s voice was soft as he continued. “But worthy or not, I won’t let you be with her if you don't love her. She deserves all the tenderness that was denied to her and her mother because of Layo’ita…and me.”

Dean felt his mind cloud with visions of Mellie, the visions he fought against day and night - her laughter and its musicality, but also the way her eyes sparked when she was mad; her bravery and her vulnerability; the way she clung to him sometimes, and the way she bossed him around. He thought about the very real possibility the King was presenting to him - a life with Mellie at his side, maybe children in the future and a life lived with purpose and meaning.

He hardly believed it could be real. But he took a chance and spoke quietly, his voice slightly hoarse. “Yes, I love her. I love her very much.”

Dean actually jumped in his seat as the door burst open and Mellie thundered in. Her cheeks were flushed, and tears sparkled in her beautiful quicksilver eyes; her skin glowed slightly as the magic of her soul lit up her body.

“Really Winchester?” She said, swallowing harshly and trying to hide her beaming smile. “You told my father before you told me?”

Dean felt the King stand and walk towards the door, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of Mellie to look. The King paused at her side and kissed the top of her head.

“Go easy on him, poppet. He really loves you.” He gave a soft smile and left, thrilled with this development and off to tell Hera all about it.

As he left the room, Mellie walked up to where Dean still sat in the chair. “So?” She said, tapping her foot against the wooden floors.

Dean felt his chest expand as it began to dawn on him that he really was married to this spitfire princess with her shifting silver eyes, and miracle of miracles, she seemed to love him back, which meant he got to stay married to her.

He smiled widely and his eyes were teasing as he reached up to grab her hand and yank her down onto his lap. She let out a small squeal as he spoke.

“And if I did speak to your father before you, wife? What of it? I am your husband after all, so you have to obey me.”

She elbowed him in the ribs and he exhaled sharply. “Oof.”

Mellie’s eyes glowed bright silver and Dean let his heart fill with awe as she spoke.

“Not likely, my Winchester Warrior. I am the Princess Melissande, pride of my mother Queen Hera, descendant of the fairy Queen Caryn’se, daughter of the Fae, and the honored child of King Yasa of Sanso’ye.” She flicked her hair back over her shoulder. “I obey no one.”

Dean’s smile was soft as he brushed his lips softly against hers and cupped her cheek in his palm before conceding happily and running his thumb along her cheekbone. “Alright, my Mellie, I suppose the obedience part is negotiable.”

He kissed her as she laughed, and reveled in the sound, and in the way her body felt, pressed close to him.

He caught her chin with his thumb and forefinger and stared into her eyes. “Marry me, princess?”

She chuckled. “That part’s already done.” She gave him an impish grin. “But I’ll wed you all over again, happily, if you promise that this time, we get a wedding night.”

Dean’s eyes flared with heat and he kissed her long and deep, living for the sighs and whimpers that bubbled up from inside her. He pulled back when he was dizzy for air, and he was panting as he spoke.

“You know, sweetheart, technically we are already married, and I bet Rowena would let us stay a night in that big, beautiful bedroom of hers. If I offer her a big enough trade she might even take herself and Bernard away for the night.”

Mellie’s smile was blinding. “Send a messenger.”

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