#ignoring sam makes dean OOC

[fiercestpurpose]

cannot stand post-canon fics where sam & dean do not live together. i don't care if sam is with eileen and dean is with cas, sam and dean would both have a breakdown if they even had to begin to process what it would mean for them not to live together. they live together!! they're weirdly codependent and totally reliant on each other. they live together!!

[whipitgod]

Totally Normal, Non Romantic Bro Moment

Dean x Castiel

oneshot - wc: 2k

summary: Dean is the only one who doesn’t realize he’s dating Cas

warnings: blatantly and boldly ignoring canon, a little crack-ish as per usual, some light swearing and little bit of spice (they kiss but that’s it)

a/n: Thank you for all the support on the last few oneshots!! this is the first time i’ve ever written for destiel or supernatural so it might be a bit ooc! If you like this remember to leave a like/reblog! maybe even follow me :D! Happy reading!!

!!!!REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!!

“Sammy!” The sound of his brother calling his name makes Sam sit up quickly, having dozed off whilst trying to finish a book he had started ages ago but could never manage to find the time to complete. He pushes himself off his bed with the intent to meet the older Winchester in the kitchen where he heard him yelling from. Before he even has a chance to reach for the door handle the door flies open, Dean entering the room with a startling amount of aggression.

Sam puffs out an irritated breath at the man's behavior, “Of course you can come in-” he pauses slightly taking in the flustered nature of the hunter now pacing back in forth and grumbling quietly to himself; a look of concern crosses Sam’s face, mouth turning down slightly, “Are you alright, did something happen?”

Dean’s head snaps towards him then, looking at him for the first time since he had burst into the room, “Yeah, i’m fine man,” he gets a look on his face like he tasted something bitter before rushing out an agitated, “no actually i’m not fine.” Sam tilts his head slightly at this urging Dean to continue with a wave of his hand; Sam notes that the man has yet to stop pacing.

“Bobby said someth’n weird earlier that's got me thinking,” Dean hesitates for a moment almost like he’s second guessing even bringing it up, “he uh,” another slight pause, brows furrowing, “he seems to think i’m dating Cas.” he takes a deep breath after he says this, a common action when he gets too worked up over something.

The younger Winchesters' brows crease in confusion at this, Dean taking this as a sign that his brother finds the notion absurd lets out a relieved breath. His relief is only short lived, Sam shaking his head slightly before questioning, “Is that it?” Dean's expression hardens, agitation returning and causing his shoulders to tense.

“The hell do you mean ‘is that it’, this is a big deal!”

Sam lets out a small laugh at his brother's frustration, “Was he not accepting?”

The anger leaves Deans features, a look of confusion taking it’s place, “The fuck does that mean?”

“Was he not accepting of your relationship with cas?” Sam now wears a look of confusion mirroring Dean’s. The older man stops pacing at this question, brows furrowing even further than Sam thought possible.

“What relationship?” The anger gone from Dean’s voice, tone now mired in confusion.

Sam looks at his brother like he’s lost his mind, “The relationship you have with Cas,” he searches Dean’s face for any sign that the man is joking, not finding any he pushes on, “You guys have been dating for months.”

Dean seems to short circuit at this, blinking several times before letting out a disbelieving scoff, “I am not dating Cas,” a nervous laugh escapes him, “That’s insane, I knew you were crazy but not that crazy.”

Sam stares blankly at him and Dean rushes to continue, “I mean the idea of Cas and I dating is laughable,” another nervous laugh accompanied by a growing redness in his face, “Why would you even think that?”

Sam’s eyebrows shoot up in disbelief at the question, a sharp bark of laughter leaving him before he can stop it. He tries again to find any sign that his brother is joking but the man's expression is steely, jaw clenched in frustration, “Oh wow, you’re serious.” At this Dean lets out an angry huff opening his mouth to start speaking before closing it again, teeth grinding together.

“For starters, you guys act like an old married couple all the time,” Dean opens his mouth to disagree but Sam cuts him off, “you guys also frequently gaze into each other's eyes for extended periods of time.”

“We do not!”

“Just last week you guys had a whispered discussion before staring into each other's eyes for five minutes,” Dean’s expression turns contemplative, “five minutes might not be accurate actually,” Sam thinks for a moment, “It was probably longer, I didn't stand around to time it.”

Dean releases an irritated noise before rushing to defend himself, “We were having a moment!” Sam’s expression turns amused at the sentence and Dean jumps to amend it, “A bro moment! A totally normal, non romantic bro moment!”

Sam quirks a brow at this, a teasing smile threatening to overcome his features. Dean lets out another frustrated sound, “It’s a normal dude thing, it’s what pals do!” Sam kind of wants to let Dean continue floundering, if only to see how many synonyms he can find for the word ‘bro’; he decides against it, deciding to put Dean out of his misery.

With a gentle sigh the younger man pushes himself up so he’s sitting fully upright, “Bobby and I aren't the only ones who think you guys are together,” He thinks for a moment, “Actually, I'm pretty sure you are the only one that doesn't think you guys are dating.”

Dean is quiet at this causing him to continue, “I don't know man, it's something you should think about,” Sam stands and walks over to the door with the intent to find something for dinner, “maybe you should talk to cas about this.'' With that he pulls the door open not waiting for the other man to respond, and without sparing another glance in Dean’s direction he walks down the hallway towards the kitchen.

Dean stands motionless for a few minutes before managing to snap himself out of the daze the conversation had left him in. Shaking his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts, he makes the short trek to his own bedroom; Closing the door behind him and letting out a breath he didn't know he had been holding, he lets his mind wander to memories of all of the interactions he and Cas had had recently.

Sure they were close, their relationship probably closer than most other mens, but that didn't mean they were together! Sure they had kissed a few times when they were both a little too drunk but that didn't mean anything! It was normal to kiss your bro when you had a few too many. This line of thinking does nothing to quell the internal turmoil he was feeling; his mind now stuck on memories of the kisses they had shared on rare occasions that were never discussed once they were sober.

Dean huffs a bitter laugh, “I don't even like men.” The phrase feels wrong as it leaves his mouth. He had never really given much thought to whether or not he liked men, but now that he was thinking about it he’s met with a startling realization, “Oh god, do i?”

He thinks back to all of the men that he had ever found attractive, the ones he was a bit too fascinated by; having written off the fascination as a friendly interest at the time, he finds himself realizing that some of the interest really wasn't all that friendly.

His mind wanders to cas, remembering all of the things they had done together that had, at the time, seemed innocent and friendly; now that he’s looking back on them they seem to be a little bit too intimate to be friendly. There was also that one dream he had a few weeks back that had made being around cas very awkward for a few days, the memory of the dream alone making his face heat up. He loses track of the amount of time he stays lost in thought, his mind spinning in circles as he thinks about the dynamic he has with the angel.

He reaches a conclusion that makes him suck in a sharp breath, “Oh god, i'm in love with cas.” It comes out as a disbelieving whisper. He doesn't know what to do with realization but now that he’s said it outloud it feels like the most obvious thing in the world.

A Few Days Earlier

Dean can’t help but watch Cas's side profile as the man takes another swig from the almost empty bottle of whiskey; Dean had tapped out before the bottle had even been opened, the angel needing way more alcohol than Dean could stomach to even get a buzz. The hunter isn’t quite sure how many bottles of assorted liquor cas had drunk at this point but it was clear the man was feeling the effects of them, his eyes a little droopy as if he was struggling to see clearly. Dean wasn’t in much better shape, his eyes struggling to focus as he watched the angel’s Adam's apple bob as he drank. Without realizing that he was even moving he reached up and grabbed the bottle from Cas's hands, taking a quick drink of it before setting it down in front of them.

“I think you’ve had enough.” Dean's tone is light when he says this, almost teasing. Cas meets his eyes with a dazed smile and Dean’s eyes get stuck on the curve of his lips.

He wants to kiss him. The thought doesn't scare him like he thinks it should, he supposes it wouldn't be the first drunken kiss the pair had shared; alcohol acting as a cover for the real emotions at play that Dean really didn't want to deal with.

Before he can think better of it he leans in, cas letting out a surprised noise as their lips meet before melting into the kiss. The thought that they shouldn’t be doing this crosses Dean's mind but he stamps it down quickly when he feels cas reach up and tangle his fingers in his hair. They stay like that until dean pulls away slightly to suck in a few panting breaths, their foreheads stay touching as they stare into each other's eyes. Dean remembers, bitterly, that tomorrow this would become another one of the little moments that he's too afraid to discuss. With that floating around his head he leans back in with a little bit more force than necessary, their teeth clacking together as their mouths meet.

Present Day

He blinks away the memory, shaking his head slightly and digging in his pocket for his phone, he finds cas’s contact and hesitates for a moment before hitting the call button. The sound of the phone ringing does nothing to calm the anxiety he’s feeling but before he can second guess himself cas picks up.

Cas answers the phone with a soft, “Hello?” and dean feels his heart in his throat.

“I think I'm in love with you.” He had not meant to blurt it out like that, and he curses quietly to himself as he waits for Cas's response.

“I mean it would be kind of weird if you weren’t given that we’re dating.”

Dean pauses at this, a flood of emotions hitting him and causing him to let out a sound reminiscent of a gasp, “What?”

“We’re dating,” there's a pause from cas and the rustle of papers being moved, dean briefly wonders what he’s doing before he realizes what the man had said. Dean's mouth opens and shuts a few times as he struggles to find the appropriate words.

Cas continues speaking, seemingly oblivious to the internal struggle that Dean is having, “We had a date a few days ago,” more rustling, “we got pizza and then got drunk and made out.”

Dean is at a loss for words, he lets out a choked sound before starting to laugh, the kind of laugh that makes your sides hurt. It takes him a minute to regain his composure, wiping a tear that had escaped during the laughing fit he takes a deep breath before responding, “Yeah i guess we did.”

“Are you feeling alright?” The question sounds so sincere it almost causes Dean to spiral into laughter again but he manages to hold it in.

The hunter pauses for a moment thinking about the question, “Yeah,” he’s smiling so hard his cheeks are starting to hurt, “i’m great.”

[underground-secret]

The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader

Description: (Duo POV) After a hunt gone wrong Dean falls sick. Now on his death bed Sam and Y/N do whatever it takes to save him from the void that is death, even if that means running into trouble.

Warnings: Cannon violence, Ansgt, hospitals, talk about dying and death, illness, heart issues, talk of past deaths, grief, Dean may be OOC or at least his inner thoughts but let me know, Historical and religious talk of the Celts and Christianity if anything is incorrect/ inaccurate pls tell me so I may fix it, cursing

A/N: Thank you so much for 100 followers, never thought this series would get so much love!

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44 @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn , @crazyunsexycool

Word Count: 15,139

Faith

(Master list, Prev. Ch, Next Ch)

I hate hospitals.

I hate hospitals, especially when it is someone you care about on the medical bed.

I hate hospitals, especially when you can’t be in the room with the person; when you have to sit in the waiting room with nothing but pure anxiety coursing through your veins, and everyone around you is in the same position.

At least Sam is with him, that must make both of them feel better. But it doesn't make me feel as better as it should, my leg bounces rapidly no distraction working for me. I tried reading and listening to music on my stupid iPod, but neither worked- not when my mind was going a hundred miles a minute on all the worst possibilities.

It wasn't meant to be a difficult hunt, going after a rawhead. Yet it all went wrong far too quickly, Dean yelled for Sam and I to get the children out of the basement while he stayed behind fighting the thing. It would be a single shot with a taser, easy to mess up on, truthfully, which is why I had given mine up for him to have as an extra one before I carried a young boy out. It was all wrong. So so wrong. He shot the thing but they both happened to be standing in a small puddle of water, and water conducts stupid electricity and he got hurt too.

Sam had found him. We called for an ambulance and rushed him to the hospital, he was unconscious the whole time.

Sam had to talk to the receptionist for insurance and then the cops explaining what happened and then a doctor. But they wanted to talk privately and he wanted to see Dean alone first. Which only increased my anxiety, Sam wouldn’t have done that unless something was horribly wrong. Something was horribly wrong. I felt like I was going to vomit or shake myself out of existence, maybe the latter would be better. Everyone around me wasn't much better, looking the same shade of nervousness. Some were crying, pacing, or on the phone talking rapidly. Hospitals were a horribly depressing place.

I’m unsure how much time passes, minutes, hours, an eternity? Sam walks towards me, tears in his eyes some clearly having spilled over by the redness of his cheeks. No. No. No.

I stand up walking to him almost without noticing as if it was all just natural, tears fill my own eyes and I can feel my hands shaking. No. No. He wouldn't be crying if–

“Sam?” I said weakly, my voice wobbling horribly. I swallow down a knot in my throat, this couldn't be happening. No.

He drops his head down, his hair covering his face and likely more tears that spilled over. “Sam,” I say again my voice breaking. I couldn't lose someone else, couldn't lose anyone else. He finally lifts his head, barely being able to hold eye contact. He seems to wobble and all at once he falls into me, I hold him, his head dropping awkwardly into my neck, from the height difference, broken sobs leaving his mouth. He hugs me tightly, grasping desperately to the back of my shirt. Something is horribly wrong. I blink back my tears, I had to be strong for Sammy. This was his brother, I might have lost both my parents but I couldn't imagine how it would feel to lose my brother.

My neck grows damp but I ignore it. I hold the back of his head, holding him, no comforting words forming in my mind. “Sam” I breathe. I felt like I was going insane. He pulls himself away, keeping me in arm's distance. His face is red and blotchy from crying, and his hair is a mess. “Please” I begged one last time, my voice quivering.

He sniffles hard, but I do not expect him to be strong, “He has a month, at best” his voice is coarse and shaky but the words feel like they came out in slow motion. Everything freezes, turning into a buzz of white noise. I can feel tears spill down my cheeks but I can’t move. I can’t. No. He can’t be dying. No. No. He wasn’t allowed to. The world seemed to shatter, no, maybe that was my heart. I can feel it beating in my ears, everything else fading away. His mouth moves, he is saying something else but I cannot hear him over the sterile noise of the world crumbling. I don't understand. My throat is so tight I feel like I might just break right there. My knees feel weak and the floor seems closer than before.

Sam pulls me into him, holding me tightly once again, his hands cradling my head as a choked sob leaves my lips. Tears pour down my eyes, he promised. All those months ago he promised he wouldn’t leave me, it was a stupid and fruitless promise but I believed it.

He couldn’t die. He can’t, he can’t die. No one else. Not again.

All too soon Sam pulls back, his arms being the only thing that seems to be holding me up. I can barely make out his features behind my own teary eyes. “He wanted me to come get you, ‘wouldn’t talk without you there” he croaks. A whole new sob breaks through my lips, I wasn't strong enough for this. I went through this twice, I could not take another. Tear after tear passes down my face, my cheeks stiff with it. I shake my head, this can’t be happening again, but even so, I let him pull me down the halls to his room trying my best to blink away my never-ending tears. But it was useless, not when it felt like I was being torn in two.

I stopped at the threshold of the doorway, he looked so weak, he was so pale and he had dark circles under his eyes that were not there hours before. An IV sticks out of his arm along with various machines around him, including an EKG. New tears fall over the rim of my eyes and I have to force my hand to clasp my mouth to hide another sob. Sam enters the room, his face hard and rid of any of the emotions he showed just moments ago. How could he do that?

Dean’s eyes are focused on the TV, but even from where I was partially hiding I could see his green eyes had grown dull, “Have you ever actually watched daytime TV? It's terrible” he jokes but he sounded weak too, his voice rid of its usual playful tone and familiar gruffness. Sam shakes his head and sighs, his ability to not break down in front of his brother was impressive to the point of it being scary, “I talked to your doctor.” But Dean continues to ignore anything that wasn’t that stupid TV playing commercials, “That fabric softener teddy bear. Oh, I'm gonna hunt that little bitch down” he responds instead. I want to laugh and ask him what the cute laundry bear ever did to him but I could not find it within me to be humorous, “Dean” I plead weakly my voice betraying me with its cracking. That gets his attention.

His eyes snapped up to where I stood, leaning against the doorframe to prevent myself from crumbling to the floor. His face immediately fills with worry, his eyes softening which is ironic considering who’s in the hospital bed. Without looking away from me he turned off the TV, I could tell he was thinking and worrying over something as he stared at me but I could not look at him without new tears falling. “Yeah. All right, well, ‘looks like you're gonna leave town without me” he finally says, my eyes snap back to him but he has already turned his attention to his brother. “What the hell are you talking about?” I step into the room, my sadness mixing too closely with frustration over his stupid declaration. “We are not gonna leave you here” Sam adds in sternly. “Hey, you better take care of that car” he points at Sam, any hint of a joke void from his voice, “Or, I swear, I'll haunt your ass.”

My eyebrows scrunched together, “what's wrong with you?” I accuse, “How are you just accepting this? You are young and have so much life ahead of you” For each word that passed my lips tears followed, my resolve too thin to exist. “You’re meant to grow old, and…and yell at kids to get off your lawn as you work on Baby and maybe other cars with a pet at your side and a lovely home. You’re meant to annoy your brother and me with stupid calls and the same old rock music.” I swallow roughly, ignoring the subtle shock on his face, “It’ll be beautiful and wonderful and we will all be there to watch it happen because you have to live.” My chest heaves, and I’m surprised I have any more tears to give. Life was too cruel before to allow me the opportunity to beg someone to stay as if that feat alone was enough to keep someone alive.

Silence envelopes the room, his eyes are wide and his lips are slightly agape. I don’t believe in God, but I would get on my knees right now and beg and plead and do anything he ever wanted if it meant Dean living. He sighs after what feels like forever, “Look, what can I say, it's a dangerous gig. I drew the short straw. That's it, end of story.” I don’t understand how he could just dwindle his life down to bad luck and a wrong straw. Tears well in my eyes and I have the urge to smack some sense into him. “Don't talk like that, alright? We still have options” Sam insists, his voice breaking slightly. “What options?” Dean asks, “Yeah, burial or cremation?” he pauses for a moment his “joke” not landing, “And I know it's not easy. But I'm gonna die. And you can't stop it.”

It felt like a punch to the gut. How many people will I have to lose until it's enough to feed the glutenous wrath of death? First, it was my mother growing sick and dying, neither my brother nor I was allowed to see her in such a state not even to say goodbye. Then my Dad, who grew reckless in the wake of his only love's death, the coldness about him we had heard about only in stories returning to consume him completely until he drove himself into the ground. I always thought I was most like my mother, but now in the wake of this maybe I am my father's daughter.

I wipe away my tears roughly before clenching my hands, needing my nails to dig into my palms to ground me. “Let me try and heal you,” I say as firmly as my voice will allow. I've never done such a thing on a serious scale, it never got to the point where I felt desperate enough to toe the line of my own morals. But this, for him I would and I would not stay awake at night contemplating my selfishness.

Dean’s POV

Her face was red from crying, and her e/c eyes were filled with deep sadness. She looked shattered, and even so, she was beautiful.

I know I wasn’t being fair to her or Sam. But I always knew I’d die on a hunt, I long accepted it so her big glossy eyes would do nothing to change that fact. Even if it broke her, both of them, which I knew I was already doing. But I also know that sugar-coated truths would only hurt them more, I wasn’t going to allow them to get hopeful not when it would ruin them.

“Please?” she pleads quietly. My resolve breaks, my heart lurches as if it was trying to get closer to her and I didn’t think it had anything to do with the heart attack.

This was for the better, if they saw nothing would work early on they’d hopefully accept my death quicker. Plus I knew she’d stay up every night wondering what more she could have done for me, she’d obsess over it until it broke her all over again. I give her a sharp nod not trusting my voice, her eyes seem to light up a little, and that enough was all the excuse I needed.

She steps closer to my bed, careful not to trip over the wires connecting to me. She got close enough where I could smell her perfume, something sweet and flowery, and undeniably her, I felt warmer just from her closeness. She swallows roughly, “It works better if I can touch you…without the barrier of clothes.” Under any other circumstance I would most likely be flustered by her shy request, I mean this is what I’ve always wanted– to have her. But time was not on my side and I’d never get a chance to tell her, whenever it was I planned on doing so– to do so now with only a week to live would be too cruel. If she didn't like me back I’d die at least knowing and maybe I’d die with a broken heart or whatever crap people complain about. But if she did like me, which Sam insists she does, then a week wouldn't be long enough.

I lift the scratchy hospital shirt, hoping neither saw how much energy the simple action took. She looked nervous as she stared at my bare chest but I could see the hard look of determination in her eyes, she needed this. Carefully she places her hands on the center of my chest, her hands freezing as I suspected they would be but I don't cower from her gentle touch I lean into it further. I bask in it, small sparks igniting where she touched and it had nothing to do with her abilities. She looks up at me, watching my face for any warnings as her own e/c eyes turn to purple and pure warmth extends from her palm seeping into my skin. Maybe I should have been scared, but she was looking at me so gently and she's so beautiful that she must be an angel, and I'm only half the man she deserves.

I suck in a deep breath, clarity hitting me like an arrow, the grogginess and pain I felt melting into a puddle and being replaced with her. It felt like she was cradling my heart, caressing it gently like she would my face, her kindness and love seeping into the vessel, and truthfully I don't ever want it back. She could have my heart. She could have every part of me, and I'd never ask for it back. It's hers. I'm hers. My mouth fell agape, her hair fell onto her face, and I could feel it in my bones. I could feel the tension leave my shoulders and it was like everything I'd been carrying was lifted away. I don't care if she was healing me or not, I want her hands on me, I want to feel her. Just her. She was the sun and I was a fool begging to be closer, even if it burned, even if it was impossible.

Her hands begin to shake violently, but she pushes on, she holds on to me. Her fingers look like they want to curl and dig into my skin and it's clear she's fighting against the instinct, she doesn't want to hurt me not that I would mind any marks she printed into my skin. She lets her head hang, closing her eyes, “Oh fuck” she whines quietly and I have to desperately keep my mind clean. ‘Not the time to have those thoughts or acknowledge how hot that was. I lift a hand pushing her hair out of her face and behind her ear, keeping my hand there to hold her. Again I have to force away any ideas of what noises I could get her to make in a similar position. She looks up at me from her lashes as she bites down on her bottom lip hard, and I wonder how much longer I can keep my mind clean.

Suddenly deep crimson drips down her upper lip, and she begins to shake more. “Wait, wait Y/N” I breathe, looking from her over to Sam with concern. He pulls her off of me, she looks drained and paler than I know I am. She wipes at her nose, the blood has seemingly stopped, but she still shakes and wobbles. Sam pushes her down onto a nearby seat and I pull down my shirt, “How do you feel?” he asks me. “Peachy” I respond, smirking. He rolls his eyes, “I’m being serious. Did it work?”

“I feel better, not as weak” I answer truthfully. She nodded her head, her voice quieter than moments before, “Call for a nurse we should see if anything physically changed.”

“What about you? What was all that?” I ask. She shrugs, “‘Never really done it on a scale like this before, but it takes a lot out of you.”

Your POV

The doctor finally comes back, sifting through the papers on his clipboard, he looks shocked and confused which I hope is for the better because being lightheaded and on the verge of passing out would be worth it. “‘Looks like there has been some improvement, which would explain why you feel better,” he says, the room growing quiet with hope, “The difference is slight but well enough to know it wasn't a fluke” he looks up, “But I’d say it wasn't enough to change the outcome, I’m sorry.” Somehow the second time was worse. Hope was worse. “Thank you, Doctor” Sam replies sadly, and with a nod, the doctor leaves but does not take our sorrow with him.

“I can keep trying. Eventually, it will add up, and the more I do it the longer I’d be able to go” I offer, desperation clear on my tongue that it's almost embarrassing. “We can keep trying that but we should look at other options too” Sam adds. I nod my head vigorously in agreement. “You shouldn't get your hopes up, I’ve already accepted I’m gonna die you should too” Dean responds instead.

“Not happenin’” Sam retorts.

After we used up all our visiting hours we headed to the library, skipping out on eating to research for hours on both supernatural and not– just anything related to heart conditions and healing. I didn't ask why Sam didn't stay with his brother, he was family so he didn't have to follow visitation hours but I also figured he would rather spend his time trying to find a solution. Currently, Sam went the more “normal” route, pulling and printing articles on heart surgeries and other doctor stuff while calling several people. At the same time, I delved into the dark that is the unnatural.

Sam left a while ago, heading back to the motel with all his articles. I insisted on staying behind to “look for more,” in reality, I was going to make a call. The library closed in less than an hour and I already researched several Gods associated with healing, the side of my hand had turned dark with the ink stains. Though it was unsuccessful it was helpful for two reasons; one I at least looked, meaning it was one more thing I could check off, and two it pushed me to make a call I wasn't sure I was ready for.

What I needed was to be home, to look through many books on mythology and witchcraft, there I would find something but that was halfway across the country and each day that passed would be a day wasted. And teleporting books here wouldn't be helpful when there were so many of them and I wasn't sure where I would even begin.

I stare at my phone on the table, this shouldn't be a big deal. I call her all the time, well not as of late which I already got yelled at for. No, none of that mattered. She could lecture me a hundred times or resent me for months. I needed to help Dean. I swiftly pick up my phone, scrolling down to her contact, I don't hesitate to hit “call”, I’ve already hesitated too many times today.

The phone rings three times before she picks up, “Adeline” I start my voice already cracking with emotion. I can almost hear her jump to her feet, “Y/N?! What happened? Where are you? Are you safe? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I did not think I had any more tears left but was proven wrong when another tear slipped down my cheek, “Dean he’s…” I couldn’t say it, couldn't make it more real than it already was. I swallow roughly, trying to cram down my emotions for the time being, I’ve cried enough today, “Dean he’s dying, and I don't know–” a strangled sob leaves my lips and I have to force myself together resting my head on my hand for support, “I don't know what to do” I finished weakly. I hear her suck in a deep breath and it only makes me feel worse, “I-I want help…I need help,” I add, “I tried healing him, the doctor said the effect was minor but I’m gonna keep doing it, even if it takes a lot out of me.”

She exhales, “I’m really sorry Y/N”. I shake my head even though I know she can't see me. I ignored her comment, there was nothing to be sorry for because he was going to be alright, “Do you have any ideas? Maybe I’m doing something wrong or could be doing it better?”

She goes quiet again and it is hard to hold on to hope, “please,” I say quietly hoping she can hear me. She clears her throat, her voice cold and serious, “I’d try some herbal tea, one with healing properties any one of it will help or at least make him more comfortable.” I hum picking up my pen again, writing ‘herbal tea’ on my arm, I didn’t want to risk forgetting.

She sighs again, but it isn’t disappointed or even exhausted, “Don’t…don’t get your hopes up.” I shake my head vigorously again, “I’m not listening to this. I called for help cause you’re the only person I can think of who would know even a wisp of this. I’m desperate for help, not a lecture.” I know I was being cruel, ‘could hear it. She wasn’t trying to hurt me. “No, Y/N please listen. This isn’t an easy task, honestly, I’d like to say it’s impossible but I don’t want you to hang up on me. This doesn't come without great sacrifice.”

“And what if I’m okay with that?” I snap back, “I’m willing to sacrifice.”

“This is different,” she spits a hint of anger on her tongue, “I don’t mean just going against everything you believe in or against your mother's words. I mean making deals with demons, where you could lose your soul or your life or what makes you whole or maybe even worse.” I go quiet. I know she’s right, she always is. But I know my answer, I know what I’m willing to do, “I said I’m willing to make sacrifices.”

“Are you?” she counters. And without hesitation, I answer, “I love him.” I could tell she was getting frustrated with me, for not listening to her warning or taking her seriously even though I was. Of course, I know this is dark and messy territory, but that did not concern me. I can hear her swallow, her voice turning hard again, “What you would need to do would be more than love him.”

“Would it?” I counter.

“Yes,” she replies sternly, “And I won’t help you with that.” It was hard to be mad at her, she was just watching out for me trying to protect me. That was her job after all. But I wanted so desperately for him to be okay, he had to be. “Whether you help me or not, I will do everything in my power to fix this. He won't die.”

“I know you will. That’s what scares me.”

My eyebrows furrow, “I don’t understand.”

“I hope you never will,” she huffs out a breath, “I don’t want you to regret anything.” I couldn't vocalize it, did not even know how to make her understand what I felt–that even if I lost him now if I never saw him again. If I sat on his grave weeping for the man I loved with new flowers in my hand each day and each year. If I never got to hold his hand again. If I never got to see him smile again– that cocky smile. Even if I never got to tell him that I loved him…even then, I would never regret knowing him. Never regret the first time we met and never, never regret loving him. But I don’t say that, instead settling for, “I don’t want to lose anyone else.”

She turns serious once more, determined even, “You won’t. I’m on my way to your place now, I’ll go through your books, and I’ll call you back the second I find something.” She may not agree with my decisions all the time, and might even be upset that we don’t talk as much anymore but at the end of the day we’re best friends–more than that really, “Thank you, Adeline.”

“Of course, now don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone,” she laughs lightly, “I love you, talk to you later.” I smile for the first time in hours, “I love you too, be safe.”

I let myself into the motel room. Sam doesn’t look up from his place on the bed, papers surround him, some in the garbage which I assume were ones that won't work out. I make my way to the small table in the corner of the room, avoiding looking at where Dean slept the night before. I take out my spellbook, my small journal, and my laptop. My eyes were killing me, most likely from crying so much before.

The next few days would follow a similar pattern, Sam would fall asleep but never for very long before getting coffee and a quick bite to eat before continuing his search. And I spent the nights awake, sleep could not find me at the edge of the void. At some point crumbled pieces of paper surrounded me and I felt like a college student again, I didn't want to do anything but look for an answer. Adeline called once that first night, but it didn't wind up leading anywhere.

The second morning I prepared tea for Dean, arriving at the hospital with the steaming cup and food that wasn't from the hospital. He looked happy to see me and complained about how bored he was there. He looked horrible, and it hurt my chest to see him like that so I just nodded to what he said. He drank the tea with nearly no complaint but instead curiosity, I explained I had boiled Sun water, before making homemade ginger tea adding cinnamon sticks, chamomile, and honey for taste. He asked me to explain to him why I chose each one, though I wasn't sure he truly cared and just wanted to hear me speak since he was relentless with his questions. I healed him again and laid with him when he asked. Then the rest of the while we talked as I did research.

Somehow being there, and watching him worsen was worse than not being there at all. I think I understand now why we weren't allowed to be there when my mom died. I would have rathered someone just stabbed me in the heart over and over then see his eyes grow duller. I healed him again before I was kicked out.

I felt hopeless. I wasn't going to give up but I felt hopeless. It was like I wasn't myself but watching myself go through the motions.

The second night wasn't much better. I slept for a couple of hours only to wake up crying. I didn't try to sleep after that. I prayed to God that night. I hadn't done that in years. I hadn't begged him for mercy since my mother died. I think I was on my knees for hours, the harsh carpet digging into my skin, but that didn’t matter. I barely felt it after a while. I apologized for not praying in years, for only praying when it benefited me which I knew was selfish. I asked for help, and begged for it. I needed him to help Dean. I said I’d do anything he wanted if he did that, even if it meant becoming a nun. I felt incredibly embarrassed begging like that, I didn't even believe in God yet there I was my hands pressed together and the carpet beneath my knees. I cried again that night, for everyone I've lost and how far I would go to save another.

Adeline was wrong, I decided. Sacrifice didn't come with the solution, it came with the search for the answer. Like I said, I didn't feel like myself. I knew I was losing myself each hour that passed and I knew it would only get worse if he did die.

On the third morning, I did the same thing I did the morning before. But after healing him for the first time that morning, I broke in front of him. “I don't want you to go,” I told him, sobbing. He just held me against him even though I knew it hurt him, but he just stroked my head anyway mumbling “I know, I know” into my hair. I could hear his voice breaking with each letter; somehow, that was worse than seeing him act as if he didn't care. Then very quietly he whispered, “I don't know how to comfort someone when I know I’m the source of their pain.”

They did more tests on him. He wasn't getting better, at least not fast enough. It seemed my healing was just halting its progress momentarily, in a sense slowing it down before it continued. I needed to stay on him longer but I wasn’t sure how and ‘could barely make it past 20 minutes before I began to shake so badly and feel so faint like my chest was being pulled open with the sharp nails of cold hands.

I went back to the motel dragging my feet. It had been three days and we had nothing to show for it but failed attempts which I suppose is better than no attempts though it didn’t much feel that way. When I got there I returned to my corner at the table, moving away my mess of “work” with a swipe of my arm. I crumble into the wooden chair, laying my forehead on the edge of the table, I didn’t know what to do. I’d keep looking no matter what, that would not change. I would search through every book on every myth, god, folklore, anything. I’d do whatever it took, I just hoped time would not beat us to the finish line.

With a huff, I pulled my latest book from the library closer to me, a book on Greek Gods. I pick up where I left off in the thick book on the God of healing and medicine Asclepius. I read the passage about him, and it seemed promising, “He was considered a symbol of medical knowledge, skill, and wisdom. Known for his ability to heal the sick and revive the dead, Asclepius played an essential role in Greek religious and medical traditions…He was known for his exceptional skill in diagnosing diseases and treating wounds. His abilities were so profound that he could even bring the dead back to life, a talent that eventually led to his downfall…The Asclepieia, healing temples dedicated to the god, were spread throughout Greece and were renowned centers of medical practice. Pilgrims would travel great distances to seek healing, engaging in purification rituals, sacrifices, and dream incubation, where they would sleep in the temple and receive divine guidance through dreams.”

The rest of the chapter contains no more info on the healing aspect but just more of his legacy and whatnot. I close the book sharply, pulling open my laptop to do more research on him. Maybe a temple still existed, and considering Pilgrims there might even be one in America somewhere. Just as I type the temple name into Google a knock sounds from the door.

For a moment I think Sam forgot his keys, but when I turned to where he always was he was there. He looks at me confused and I shrug my shoulders, “Maybe it’s room service?” He answers by going to the door and opening it curiously. I watch from my seat, tilting my chair back to get a better look. But it is not room service, or someone knocking at the wrong door, it’s Dean. I almost fall backward, my chair slams forward back on all four legs I shoot up from my seat.

He leans on the doorframe, holding his side. He still has dark circles under his eyes and just looks sickly which is only accentuated by the black zip-up he wore, which was odd for him he never really wore sweaters. “What the hell are you doing here?” Sam exclaims his voice a mix of surprise and confusion. Dean limps his way just a little bit further into the room, leaning on a dresser next to the door, “I checked myself out,” he responds placing all his weight on the thing. I didn't even know a sick patient could check themselves out like that. “What, are you crazy?” Sam exclaims.

Dean shrugs, “Well, I’m not gonna die in a hospital where the nurses aren’t even hot.” He turns his head to wink at me and gives me that devilish smile. My jaw dropped, baffled wasn't even the word to explain it. This had to be the most Dean Winchester thing Dean could have ever done, I could not fathom it. I wanted to call him an idiot but I was too shocked to give any response. Sam huffs a laugh as he shuts the door, “You know, this whole I-laugh-in-the-face-of-danger-thing? It’s crap. I can see right through it, we both can.”

Dean moves himself further into the room leaning on anything he could, “Yeah, whatever, dude. Have either of you even slept? You look worse than me.” Sam helps him to the bed, sitting him down, “We’ve been scouring the Internet for the last three days.”

I sit back in my chair, scooting it so I can face them both, “I don't know how either of our laptops survived this. Late at night, I think I can hear it cry.”

Dean purses his lips, “Lack of sleep has made you crazy.” It was my turn to huff a laugh, and for that fraction of a second everything felt normal. But that moment of normalcy breaks as Sam adds, “I’ve also called every contact in Dad’s journal.” I was brought right back to the present, back to the reason we were doing all of this to begin with. “For what?” Dean asks.

“For a way to help you,” Sam explains, “One of Dad’s friends, Joshua, he called me back. Told me about a guy in Nebraska. A specialist.”

“Wait, why didn't you tell me sooner?” I ask.

“He called back when you were with Dean,” he answers, “I was going to tell you when you came back but didn't get the chance before he decided to break out.” I hum an ‘oh’ in response. “You’re not gonna let me die in peace, are you?” Dean chimes in, hunched over.

“I’m not gonna let you die, period. We’re going” Sam says, end of discussion.

The Impala bumps along the gravel road, I was beyond happy we finally arrived. The sky was cloudy and grey with a thin layer of mist clinging to everything, it reflected the past couple of days and the ride quite perfectly. Dean rested in the back seat the entire time, his face scrunched in discomfort, we stopped a couple of times so I could jump back there and heal him for a short while.

The car comes to a full stop among others in a large green field, a large white circus tent stealing the show. A sign nearby reads The Church of Roy LeGrange. Faith Healer. Witness The Miracle. I was skeptical, but like Sam said our options were low. I wasn’t religious and certainly hated when things like this existed, giving people false hope and feeding them lies, when they could be looking at real options and getting real help but I guess I was being a hypocrite considering how I spent my time kneeling to a God I didn't believe in. Many people walked towards it, all sick, some with canes, walkers, breathing devices, etc. I get out of the car slowly, eyeing the scene carefully. We’re all just desperate people, hoping a tent in the middle of nowhere will save our loved ones.

Sam gets out of the car, rounding the vehicle to help his brother get out of the car. Dean grimaces as he tries to lift himself, “I got ya” Sam tells him trying to grab him but Dean shoves him away, “I got it” he spits. He fixes himself, pissed off, but uses the car to hold himself up leaning on it, “Man, you are a lying bastard. ‘Thought you said we were going to see a doctor.”

“I believe I said a specialist” Sam corrects. I squint my eyes at him, “You’re not slick. But…” I say stretching out the word, “We should try, at the very least.”

“And this guy is supposed to be the real deal” Sam adds, nodding. Dean scuffs, rolling his eyes, “I can’t believe you brought me here to see some guy who heals people out of a tent.”

An old woman walks by holding a big black umbrella, “Reverend LeGrange is a great man” she declares. “Yeah, that’s nice” Dean sarcastically remarks. I hold back on batting his arm as I would normally, “Be nice” I mumble instead.

We walk away from the old lady and the car heading toward the tent, walking past an angry man who is struggling against an officers hold, “I have a right to protest. This man is a fraud. And he’s milking all these people of their hard-earned money.” I suck in a sharp breath, mumbling an “Amen, brother” underneath my breath. But the Sheriff seems to ignore the man's declaration, holding him back while trying to lead him away, “Sir, this is a place of worship. Let’s go. Move it.” The man huffs, walking away with the Sheriff. “I take it he’s not part of the flock” Dean remarks.

Sam purses his lips, half shrugging, “When people see something they can’t explain, there’s controversy.”

Dean stops short, getting our attention and making us stop too, “I mean, come on, Sam, a faith healer? And what about you Y/N you don’t believe in this crap.”

I hold up my hands in surrender, “You're right. I don’t. And I think making a whole religion out of it that smells more like a cult than anything, it’s ridiculous. But there’s a good chance this is legit,” I drop my hands back at my side, “He’s probably using magic like I was doing with you, it's just that he's, hopefully, more successful.” He pressed his lips together tightly, I got him there. “See, maybe it’s time to have a little faith, Dean,” Sam adds.

“You know what I’ve got faith in?” Dean exclaims, “Reality. And this won’t work. I mean do you really think this guy is a dude-witch.”

I purse my lips, “I’m pretty sure the term would be a wizard, but, uh, I don't know. I’d have to see it in action to know for certain along with anything around him while he works, rituals and stuff.” I pause for a moment, thinking it over, “I do hope he’s real and not an elaborate con artist, and I hope he’s better than me at the whole healing thing.” I was being blatantly honest. I hoped it would encourage Dean to not fight this version of help, and I truly did wish this guy could help. “And if you know evil’s out there, how can you not believe good’s out there, too?” Sam chimes in, a hint of annoyance on his tongue. A muscle in Dean’s jaw twitches, “Because I’ve seen what evil does to good people.”

Dean’s POV

I snapped in a moment of weakness and said too much. “Dean” she sighs, placing a gentle hand on my upper arm, stepping closer to me almost subconsciously. I didn’t want a lecture full of sappy nonsense and corny poetry. She must have known that because she smiled sadly, her lip curving up on one side, my eyes following the movement, “Good does exist, it has to,” she says simply ever the optimist. She tilts her head slightly, looking up at me through her curled eyelashes, her hand still on my arm, my knees feel weak. “I'm sure you can think of at least one good person. Of course, the terms good and evil are subjective…” she cuts her cute rambling off, “but you get what I mean.”

I guess she was right. Sammy’s a good person sometimes a total asshole but I guess that came with the territory of being brothers. And Y/N’s the definition of being a good person, she’s always been kind even to people who didn't deserve it, including me. I remember a couple of times I was cruel to her when we were kids, always about her being a witch, yet for some reason she accepted my apology and even wanted to keep being friends. For a long time, I didn’t understand her, ‘how she could be sweet and smile at a world filled with darkness. Sometimes I think I still don't get her. “Please just give it a try,” she pleads, “And if it doesn't work or turns out to be a con you can make fun of us the whole way back.”

I studied her again, she looked drained and I knew she hadn't been sleeping all because of me. “Fine” I huff. She bites back a smile and suddenly complying with this stupid faith healer was worth it.

“And who knows, maybe God works in mysterious ways” an unfamiliar voice butts in. I didn't care to look who it was, solely focused on the girl who still had her hand on me; a smile on her lips and a sparkle in her eyes, one I hadn't seen in three days. “Maybe he does” I respond, half heartily, I look up briefly catching the eyes of an attractive blonde holding a black umbrella. I averted my eyes back to my girl, but she was already looking away at the woman who interrupted us, her hand slipped down my arm.

“Uh, hi. I’m Y/N” she introduces herself, holding out the hand that was touching me only moments ago. She accepts her hand, “Layla. And these two?” Layla says looking past her. “Sam,” he introduces himself before motioning to me, “Dean.” I give her a tightlipped smile in response.

She smiles at me, “So, if you’re not a believer, then why are you here?” She was attractive, you’d have to be blind not to see it but my interest is elsewhere. I can't fool myself into thinking that'll work out. Hell, I'm probably gonna end up dead. And yeah, it's harsh, but I can't shake the feeling that I'd rather spend what time I've got with Y/N, not waste it chasing after other girls just to fill the gap she left without even knowing it. I’m self-aware enough to know that. “Well, apparently my brother here believes enough for the both of us” I muse. An older woman with blondish-gray hair walks over, putting an arm around the girl, “Come on, Layla. It’s about to start.” Both women smile at us before walking away.

“Well, you heard the woman,” Y/N starts, “We should get you inside.” Sam nods leading the way.

Your POV

The tent is packed, full of people trying to find seats, it smells of hope and despair if that’s possible. “Yeah, peace, love, and trust all over,” Dean remarks, nodding over to a camera in the corner. Did churches have cameras? “I guess it makes sense,” I try to reason, “‘probably get more people like that dude outside protesting, maybe even getting violent.”

Dean slips away sitting down on one of the foldable chairs. “Hey no,” I point at him, “You are not gonna be all brooding and hide in the back.” His shoulders slump, “Let’s sit here.”

“No” I answer simply, eyebrows scrunched. He opens his mouth in a retort but his brother steps in, putting an arm around him and practically dragging him from the seat and towards the front, “Oh, come, on, Sam” Dean growls. Mistaking his anger for pain Sam halts in his movements, “You alright?”

“This is ridiculous” Dean bites, slapping his brother’s hands away, “I’m good, dude, get off of me.” I roll my eyes at their behavior, even in public, and even with one of them being severely sick they could still act childish and make a scene. I look around the closer rows, looking for seats, “Look at that” I smile turning back to the boys, “seats” I point to three empty seats not only close to the front but right behind Layla, the girl from before. She seemed nice, maybe a little strange in randomly joining the conversation but it wasn’t a big deal. “Perfect” Sam agrees, lightly shoving his brother in that direction. “Yeah, perfect” Dean remarks, sarcasm clear in his voice.

“Take the aisle,” Sam tells his brother before moving into the row of seats, I move in after him taking the seat between them. Dean grumbles something, his face having ‘irritable’ all over it, but he sits quietly, arms crossed.

An old man with white hair and sunglasses steps onto the stage with the help of an older woman with brown hair tied back. He must be the famous Roy LeGrange, “Each morning, my wife, Sue Ann, reads me the news. Never seems good, does it?” he says with a classic southern accent, the crowd muttering agreements, “Seems like there's always someone committing some immoral, unspeakable act.”

“He could say that aga–'' I began to mumble. “Huh” I hum to myself, my eyes catching on a particular religious item, why would there be a Celtic cross? I mean the cross represented the blending of the Celts and Christians but there are many separations between the two from believing in multiple gods to human sacrifice–

“But, I say to you, God is watching,” he preaches, and if I wasn't so focused on that wooden cross I might have rolled my eyes forgetting my manners, especially when the crowd responded with “Yes he is.” It sounded very cultish, the hair on my arms standing up. Maybe it wasn’t that weird for there to be a Celtic cross, but I just couldn’t shake the feeling. I racked my brain for information on it, and I just couldn’t see it used in Christian churches anymore. Though of course, I could be wrong, it's not like I go to church every day or even once a week. But again it felt a little too weird to just brush off–

“God rewards the good, and He punishes the corrupt” Roy continued getting loud cheering and more murmuring. I look at the people around me strangely, I forget how powerful religion is…

Speaking of which, that damn Celtic cross again. Alright, think. The Celtic cross represents life and death, creating dynamic tension, the vertical arm represents the life aspect while the horizontal arm signifies death, the circle acting as a portal to transformation. In simpler terms, the cross and circle represent opposing forces; life and death, yet they harmonize with the Celtic cross, emphasizing unity and balance, they coexist. But what does that mean here? Okay, well he’s supposedly healing people which would be the life aspect and the death could represent the healing cheating death? No, that sounded like a stretch. Maybe this was all a stretch and the cross meant nothing. I’m just overreacting because I'm scared of what will become of this if this man was a con or whatever else. Yeah, that makes more sense—

“It is the Lord who does the healing here, friends. The Lord who guides me in choosing who to heal by helping me see into people's hearts,” Roy proclaimed.

“Yeah,” Dean whispers just loud enough for Sam and me to hear, “and into their wallets.” But it wasn’t quiet enough, “You think so, young man?” Oh, that was weird. The crowd falls dead silent, “Sorry” Dean apologizes. “No, no. Don’t be.” Roy shakes his head, “Just watch what you say around a blind man, we’ve got real sharp ears.” The crowd laughs but an unpleasant feeling worms itself into my stomach. It was innocent enough but something felt off and I don't think it has anything to do with Dean being scrutinized. “What’s your name, son?” Roy asks. He clears his throat, sitting straighter in his seat, “Dean.”

“Dean” Roy repeats nodding to himself, “I want…I want you to come up here with me.” My eyes widened, maybe God finally listened. “No, it’s okay” he shakes his head. “What are you doing?!” Sam whisper-yells, but his brother ignores him.

“You’ve come here to be healed, haven’t cha?” Roy inquires.

“Well, yeah, but, uh…maybe you should just pick someone else” Dean attempts to reason. And I hate the way he doesn't believe he is worthy of saving. The crowd claps loudly, “Oh, no. I didn’t pick you, Dean, the Lord did.” Had we been here for any other reason I might have been more disturbed by that proclamation, but this was a chance. The crowd roars in excitement, voices mixed in encouragement. Dean looks overwhelmed, I place a hand on his knee gaining his attention quickly, “Dean, this is good, go” I whisper to him even though I was unsure of this whole thing and that odd cross. He studies me for half a moment, something I couldn't recognize passing over his features before he reluctantly raises, my hand slipping from his leg.

The woman from before helps Dean to the stage, situating him next to the healer, “You ready?” he asks Dean. “Look, no disrespect, but, uh, I’m not exactly a believer,” Dean says, looking between the crowd and the old man. But Roy just smiles, “You will be, son. You will be,” he turns to the crowd arms raised, “Pray with me, friends.” Again, almost like a cult, the crowd joins hands as Roy moves his hands to place on Dean; one on his shoulder and the other to the side of his head. I hold my breath, I want this to work so badly, I hadn't even begun to think of a plan B if this didn't.

Suddenly Dean’s eyes glaze over, it was never like that when I healed him, and then he seems to wobble sinking to his knees. I gasped, I didn't think it would be so intense or that my heart would beat so fast. A deep chill runs up my spine seeping into my bones, my skin prickles with goosebumps, the Celtic cross comes into view again and I suddenly feel sick, a horrible feeling tangling itself in between my stomach. I don't know where to look the cross or Dean, my eyes flipping between the two rapidly all until Dean's eyes roll back and he crumbles down onto the stage floor. Sam manages to jump over me, using his long legs to his advantage he gets to the stage in seconds grabbing the front of Dean's hoodie. I catch up quickly, glad we were close to the stage, I kneel in front of Dean his head lulling back. The loud noise of the crowd cheering becomes nothing but background noise, as I check his pulse my fingers against the side of his neck the steady but fast beating of his heart thumping below my touch.

With a sudden gasp his eyes shoot open, eyes wide and mouth agape.

I tap my foot impatiently on the clean floors of the hospital, thankful that right after testing I was allowed to be in the room. Dean looked better, he moved normally and his color was back, but we all agreed we should check officially. Now we were waiting and although the room sparked with anxiety, the dark looming cloud had cleared up a lot, and once we knew for sure it would most likely be gone. I just wished the doctor would come quicker. “So, you really feel okay?” Sam asks for the hundredth time since Dean woke from being healed yesterday. Dean stares at him blankly, “I feel fine, Sam” he grumbles.

Finally, the Doctor walks in, reading from the charts on his clipboard, “Well, according to all your tests there's nothing wrong with your heart. No sign there ever was. Not that a man your age should be having heart trouble, but, still strange things happen.” The cloud fades away, and I don’t hold back my beaming smile. “What do you mean, strange?” Dean asks, his face serious rather than elated. “Well, just yesterday, a young guy like you, twenty-seven, athletic. Out of nowhere, heart attack,” the doctor shares. Dean nods, giving the man a handshake, “Thanks, Doc.” The man leaves, closing the door behind him. “That’s odd,” Dean points out, referring to what the doctor said.

“Maybe it's a coincidence,” Sam shrugs, “People's hearts give out all the time, man.” I looked at him taken aback, what was he talking about, “Dude, what world are you living in?” He gives me a pointed look, annoyed with not only my response but also my not agreeing with him, “Do we really have to look this one in the mouth? Why can't we just be thankful that the guy saved your life, Dean, and move on?”

“Because I can't shake this feeling, that's why” Dean bites back. I sigh, wishing we could just avoid this all, “Me neither.” Dean gives me a strange look, “You neither?”

“Yeah,” I nod, “I just, I don’t know, when we sat down I recognized something which automatically made me suspicious. Then you know the whole thing was happening and, well, maybe it was just nerves but it got really cold and I felt sort of sick. Which really doesn't make sense, but I just had this weird feeling, I don’t know.”

“I felt cold too,” Dean answers, face scrunched, “When I was healed, I just...I felt wrong, ‘cold. And for a second...I saw someone. This, uh, this old man. And I'm telling you, it was a spirit.” Maybe it wasn’t nerves and I wasn’t crazy. Sam huffs, clearly trying to ignore the red flags here, “But if there was something there, Dean, I think I would've seen it, too. I mean, I've been seeing an awful lot of things lately.”

“Alright, but he literally saw something and I felt something.” I reason, “You can’t deny two people saying something’s up, and whatever it was there’s probably a reason why you couldn’t see it.”

“You’re just gonna need a little faith on this one, Sam” Dean muses, using his own words against him. Sam sighs, finally giving in, “Yeah, alright. So, what do you wanna do?”

Dean steps into the leader role again, as if nothing had happened, “I want you to go check out the heart attack guy. Y/N, we’re gonna visit the reverend.”

I sit next to Dean on the nice leather couch, Roy sitting across from us. He and his wife had been very understanding and didn’t question our want to speak to him about yesterday, I figure he got this a lot. “I feel great,” Dean answers the reverend, “Just trying to, you know, make sense of what happened.”

“A miracle is what happened,” Sue Ann, Roy’s wife and the woman from before answered, “Well, miracles come so often around Roy.” I gave her a half-hearted smile and nod, maybe it was just me but that response came off a little weird. I was getting a bad vibe from her, “So, um, when did these miracles start?” I ask Roy. Any desire to possibly learn from him had been subdued, caution taking its place. “Woke up one morning, stone blind. Doctors figured out I had cancer. Told me I had maybe a month. So, uh, we prayed for a miracle. I was weak, but I told Sue Ann, 'You just keep right on praying.'” He smiled sweetly at his wife before continuing, “I went into a coma. Doctors said I wouldn't wake up, but I did. And the cancer was gone.” He takes off his black sunglasses, his eyes pure white, “If it wasn't for these eyes, no one would believe I'd ever had it.” He puts the glasses back on, it was a touching story and his eyes added a horrifying touch but it just left more questions.

He seemed genuine, and I don’t think he would lie about being in a coma. When you’re sick like that, and experience something like that, you don’t create lies about your experience, not when it was traumatic like that. And staying on that belief, there was no way he suddenly just stopped having cancer and was able to heal people. He couldn’t have been responsible for whatever caused his initial health change. Which would then mean someone else was involved. “So then, you could just…heal people?” I ask.

“I discovered it afterward, yes,” he nods, "God's blessed me in many ways.” It didn’t add up. I couldn’t get it to add up in my head. Besides the whole no more sickness ideal, how could he just suddenly heal someone? I mean, how do you even discover you can? Was it an accident? Did the hypothetical person who might have caused him to get better tell him too? Or, tell him to try? Whereas for me I knew it was something I was capable of in general as a witch, but I also had many spell books, history books, journals, and everything to learn from. And if my mother had lived longer she would have been able to teach me it too.

“And his flock just swelled overnight,” Sue Ann added, her eyes full of endearment, “And this is just the beginning.” I study her for a moment, balancing on the thin line of suspicion and paranoia. There was nothing inherently wrong about her or what she said, and maybe it was my mind making up the fact that her last words were just a little aggressive.

“Can I ask you one last question?” Dean asks, his voice pulling me out of my thoughts. “Of course you can,” Roy responded sincerely. He really does seem like a nice guy, genuine, and it could be my inherent lack of sleep that’s making me connect dots that might not even be there. “Why? Why me? Out of all the sick people, why save me?” My heart broke. Of course he didn’t feel adequate, especially when he tried convincing us for the last four days he wasn't worth saving, that we should give up and let him die. I place a careful hand on his knee, I don’t want to scare him away or clam up again, he never was very open. “Well, like I said before, the Lord guides me,” Roy answers, “I looked into your heart, and you just stood out from all the rest.”

Dean wets his lips, my eyes flickering up to the movement, he leans forward slightly, “What did you see in my heart?” I move my gaze away catching on Sue Ann’s innocent movement of picking up her glass of water, but as she leans over her necklace escapes from its place beneath her shirt. A small wooden Celtic Cross held by a thin silver chain, she catches my eyes, covering the cross with her hand and giving me an innocent smile. She assumes I would think it's just any ol’ cross, she does run religious ceremonies so such a simple totem shouldn’t mean anything else. Maybe there were dots to connect after all, and it was on full display ready to be fastened. I focused my attention back on the conversation, I left my bag in the car so I’d have to wait, and in the meanwhile, I did not wish for her to get suspicious of me either.

Roy smiles softly, “A young man with an important purpose. A job to do. And it isn't finished.” I feel Dean tense beneath my hand, his face full of shock. Whether Roy did see something or not, it might have been the thing Dean needed to hear regardless.

I wanted to run back to the car and look through my spell book and journal, but Sue Ann was seeing us out and if I had easily become suspicious of her then it was possible she would grow suspicious of what I knew too. I could almost feel her gaze burning into the back of my head, but I tried to ignore it, focusing instead on Dean's warm hand on the small of my back leading me down the short wooden stairs of their porch. But I had not expected to see Layla and the woman she was with before, I think her mother. “Dean, Y/N, hey,” she greets. “Hey,” Dean responds just as we reach ground level, his hand pressing further into my back before curling around my waist, his hand lying on my side before he pushes me closer against him. I don’t know why he was being so touchy, not that I was exactly complaining. I welcomed it and the warmth it brought.

“How ‘you feeling?” She asks him, tilting her head slightly, her face beaming in sincerity. “I feel good. Cured, I guess. What are you doing here?” he responds.

“You know, my mom, she wanted to talk to the reverend.” Layla nods toward the door prompting Sue Ann to step fully onto the porch rather than standing halfway between the screen door. “Layla?” she asks, probably not having seen her from where she stood. “Yes, I'm here again,” Layla answers softly.

“Well, I'm sorry, but Roy is resting. He won't be seeing anyone else right now.” Sue Ann informed, nodding sympathetically. Every word she said just made me want to turn around and head to the car, I was itching for it. I wondered if Dean could feel it from where he was touching me or just sensed it, giving me a questioning look with a raised eyebrow. But I couldn’t exactly say anything right now so I ignored his look.

“Sue Ann, please,” Layla’s mom pleads, “This is our sixth time, he's got to see us.”

“Roy is well aware of Layla's situation,” Sue Ann declares harshly, “And he very much wants to help just as soon as the Lord allows. Have faith, Mrs. Rourke.” And with that, she goes back inside. I might not know exactly what’s going on but her continuous frustrated comments regarding the healing and her perhaps overly religious nature were enough to make me antsy. We should really go to the car, call Sam to see what he found, or even just head to the hotel. Layla’s mom turns sharply to Dean, glaring at him she spits, “Why are you still even here? You got what you wanted.”

“Mom. Stop” Layla insists, looking at us nervously.

“No, Layla, this is too much” her mom fumed, “We've been to every single service. If Roy would stop choosing these strangers over you. Strangers who don't even believe. I just can't pray any harder.” I do feel bad for her, but it's not like we had control over any of this so she shouldn't be mad at us let alone Dean who was quite literally on his deathbed and might not have made it to the end of the week. I open my mouth to say exactly that, but Dean cuts me off before I get a chance, “Layla, what’s wrong?” he asks.

She looks everywhere but him, “I have this thing…”

“It's a brain tumor,” her mother cuts in bluntly, “It's inoperable. In six months, the doctors say…” Layla cuts her mom off putting a hand on her shoulder. Maybe it was good Dean didn’t let me say what I wanted to, it would’ve been too cruel to do that to someone who was going to lose her daughter. It seemed like we were surrounded by death, more now than ever and I hadn’t thought that could be possible. I didn’t like death, or sickness though I suppose who does. “I'm sorry” Dean says, and I just nod in agreement not trusting my own voice. “It's okay” Layla responds softly. Her mother shakes her head slowly, “No. It isn't,” her sharp gaze is back on Dean, “Why do you deserve to live more than my daughter?” Then she storms away, Layla hesitantly following. I know that woman was just upset and projecting her anger but it was not fair. Grief isn’t fair.

I look at Dean, his jaw clenched tightly, a slight furrow of his brow, his eyes a little far away in thought. I recognized that look. “Don’t listen to her” I declare, slipping from his hold to look at him straight on, “Death is not kind and it is not just, but you deserve to live. You deserve to live just as much as Layla or anyone else does. I know that look and I know you're thinking poorly of yourself, which I hate that you do so ‘cause you’re amazing and brave and kind and you care so much for others regardless of your gruff attitude.” His eyes are wide and written with shock but I continue, “So don’t think for one second that you don’t deserve to live.” I didn’t realize my chest was heaving, or that a lump had formed in my throat. I’ve watched too many people die, I’ve been down the rabbit hole of grief. I knew it well, it became a second skin. And I've watched someone run themselves into the ground because they didn’t feel like they deserved to live, or at least not when the love of their life was dead. I watched the evolution of that grief while dealing with my own and my brother’s. Death was not kind.

His jaw was slack with surprise and I know I said too much, I gave him a sharp awkward nod before turning around and heading for the car. I have something to look into.

Dean throws his keys on the bed the second we enter, the soft jingle of the metal ringing through the quiet room. I unzipped my sweatshirt, making my way towards Sam who sat at the small table to the side of the room. I take a seat next to him, putting my sweater behind me, “So what’d you find?” He seems hesitant to answer, his adam's apple bobbing, “Um, I’m sorry Dean” he says weakly looking up at his brother.

Dean takes his jacket off putting it on top of mine, his face written in confusion, “Sorry about what?” he asks, leaning on the back of my chair, his knuckles just barely brushing my back. Sam huffs out a breath, “Marshall Hall died at 4:17.” My eyes widened, I shouldn’t be surprised it was just another dot to be connected to whatever was going on with the damn cross. “The exact time I was healed” Dean adds solemnly, voicing what we were all thinking.

“Yeah. So, I put together a list of everyone Roy's healed, six people over the past year, and I cross-checked them with the local obits,” Sam explains, “Every time someone was healed, someone else died. And each time, the victim died of the same symptom LeGrange was healing at the time.”

“Oh frick” I mumble, apparently nothing is allowed to be easy for us. And I wasn’t exactly expecting that to be what we’re dealing with. “Someone's healed of cancer, someone else dies of cancer?” Dean asks for confirmation, even though it’s clear that’s what’s going on. “Somehow. LeGrange…” Sam sighs, “he's trading a life for another.”

Dean stands up straight backing away from the table, from Sam, “Wait, wait, wait. So, Marshall Hall died to save me?” Sam shakes his head, “Dean, the guy probably would've died anyway. And someone else would've been healed.”

“You never should've brought me here.” Dean declares, running a hand down his face.

“Dean, I was just trying to save your life.” Sam reasons.

“But, Sam, some guy is dead now because of me.”

“I didn't know,” Sam answers quietly.

I stand up abruptly, “Hey, there’s nothing we can do about that now. What’s done is done.” This all got very complicated very quickly, maybe Adeline was right you can’t save someone from death without making difficult decisions and sacrifices. “But what we can do is stop this from happening again, before it gets worse” I add and I know I don’t sound so convincing. You don’t get to choose who lives and who dies, and we had crossed that line whether intentionally or not, just wanting to save Dean from death was already putting a foot past that line. “That’s the thing I don't understand, how is Roy doing it? How's he trading a life for a life?” Sam questions. “Oh, he’s not doing it,” Dean answers, “Something else is doing it for him.”

“Do you mean the thing with Sue Ann?” I ask with a tilt of my head, maybe he had picked up on it too. “What?” his face contorts in confusion, “No? What are you talking about?”

“Oh” I say, now I'm confused, “Wait. What are you talking about?”

“What are both of you talking about?!” Sam exclaims looking between us. Dean sighs, pinching the space between his brows, “The old man I saw on stage” he explains, “I didn’t want to believe it, but deep down I knew.” He pauses and I begin to wonder if it’s for dramatic affect. I motion my hand for him to continue and he does, “There’s only one thing that can give and take life like that. We’re dealing with a Reaper.”

“Pardon?” I say, my mouth agape. “Yeah,” Sam agrees, face just as shocked as I am, “You really think it's THE Grim Reaper? Like, angel of death, collect your soul, the whole deal?”

“No no no, not THE reaper, A reaper.” Dean clarifies, taking the seat I once occupied, “There's reaper law in pretty much every culture on earth, it goes by 100 different names, it's possible that there's more than one of them.” My mouth still hangs open, it can never be something normal with us, ever. “But you said you saw a dude in a suit,” Sam voiced.

“What, you think he shoulda been working the whole black robe thing?” Dean countered, “You said it yourself that the clock stopped right? Reapers stop time. And you can only see 'em when they're coming at you which is why I could see it and you guys couldn't.”

“Oh my god,” I say, the realization finally hitting me, “That’s where it comes in!” Both boys stare at me confused, “Where what comes in?” Sam asks.

“Okay, remember I said I recognized something and thought it was a little strange,” I paused waiting for them to nod before continuing, “It was a Celtic Cross, which was all I could focus on the entire time ‘cause like what is it doing there. And then I started thinking of what it symbolizes, here’s the interesting part” I point out, “So basically, the Celtic cross represents life and death, creating dynamic tension. The cross and circle represent opposing forces; life and death, yet they harmonize with the cross, emphasizing unity and balance, they coexist. Which now makes total sense with the whole Reaper thing.”

“Sorry sweetheart, I’m not following here” Dean admits. I huff a laugh, “Right. Let me get to the point. So, as far as I know someone has to control the Reaper to, you know, dictate who lives and dies and to do that you need a spell. And I’ve seen it before…” I head over to my bag that I had just plopped down right next to the door when we walked in, I pull out my spell book holding it up, “This book has been in my family for generations. Now as you know my mother and her family didn’t see eye to eye, so when it eventually became my mothers and she ran away she changed a lot of stuff in here, crossing things out etc.” I open the book, flicking through the pages, “Basically there’s some pretty dark stuff in here, straight up black magic, some stuff even ancient,” finally I find the page, “Aha!” I turn the book around pointing at the page, “As you can see by the frowny face in the corner my mother did not appreciate this spell. Anyways, this is a binding spell for a Reaper where you create a black alter with bones and human blood etc, you get the point. You can then control it with a Celtic Cross, and before I saw Sue Ann with the necklace.”

“So you think Sue Ann is using dark magic to control a Reaper and kill people to save people because you saw a necklace?” Sam asks. I close the book, “Yeah, and it makes sense she was desperate when her husband was sick. I don’t know how I didn’t think of this sooner.” I knew this page existed, I've seen it in passing multiple times, especially some time since Dean was in the hospital. I guess I did listen to Adeline’s warning because even though I was ready to go far to save him I had kept away from pages like this. “Yeah but Roy's alive, so why is she still using the spell?” Dean points out. I shrug, “Money? She’s psycho? I don’t know, maybe there’s a connection with the victims.”

“How would we break it?” Sam voices.

“We gotta get that cross from her, the one around her neck” I answer, “And let me just add, that Reaper is gonna be pissed, I mean the second it gains back its control…” I don’t need to say it out loud for them to get what I mean.

The Impala bounces down the badly graveled and potholed road, passing a sign that says Service Today. Hopefully we will be just in time. Dean brings the car to a stop and wordlessly we exit, “How do we get Sue Ann alone?” Sam asks. I nervously tap the side of my legs as we approach the tent, some guy handing out leaflets stops us, “Roy LeGrange is a fraud. He's no healer.” Dean accepts the paper, “Amen brother” he nods. “You keep up the good work” Sam points at the man and he looks taken aback, he probably didn’t get many if any people that agreed. “Thank you,” he says, surprised.

Focusing back on the task at hand I open my mouth about to say something about not knowing where she goes when she does the spell when I spot her near the side of the tent, “I see her” I say already moving in that direction, “Find her spell book and keep Roy distracted too in case this does not work.” I don’t wait to hear a response before I’m running off to catch up with the woman playing God, “Sue Ann!” I call as I approach. She turns, her eyes wide, the necklace peeking out from her blouse, “Hi Y/N, what are you doing back here?” she asks sweetly.

“Oh well you guys are doing such amazing stuff here, wanted to say thank you one last time before we had to head off” I answered hoping my lie was believable. “Don’t thank us, you just thank the Lord” She says pointing to the night sky. I nod, I had to keep her talking long enough to figure out how to get the necklace off, “I have to admit I always had a hard time believing in the man upstairs, but you and Roy really turned me around.”

“Oh I’m glad, it’s never too late to welcome Him into your heart,” she smiles, “Now if you’ll excuse me I must get going, the sermon is starting.” Uh oh, do I just rip it off of her? No, she’s already turning around, “One last thing!” I call out getting her attention again. This time when she turns around she looks annoyed, “Uh, um…”come on Y/N come up with a lie or something, “I saw your necklace earlier today, I think you caught me staring,” I laugh, “I was just…I was wondering where you got it from I’ve never seen something like that before.” She clasps her necklace, “It’s just an old thing, I don’t remember where I got it from.”

“Could I maybe take a closer look at it? Maybe I can find a replica, you know, for my new found belief.” I was practically begging her to just let this be easy, maybe I should ask Dean to give me a lesson on finessing cause this is not working. She clasps it tighter, “I’m sorry, maybe later I really have to help with the sermon now.”

“Right, right sorry” she begins to turn around again but I call out again, “I know you said to thank the Lord and I have and will, it’s just” that gets her attention, “I feel like you and Roy are also responsible and like I said I came to thank you again…I know it’s maybe unprofessional or what not, but, could I just give you a hug? You’ve really done so much for us.” God I was bad at this. Her face softens a fraction, hey maybe I wasn’t bad at this, “Of course.” She holds out her arms and I move closer to allow myself to be embraced, I wrap my arms near her neck hoping she couldn’t feel the tension in my body. “Thank you” I say softly, all the while sneaking my hand to the clasp of her necklace.

She pulls away abruptly, once more grasping her necklace, “What is wrong with you!” she exclaims. I back up, hands up in defense, “After everything we’ve done to help you, healing your boy” she glares at me with wide eyes, “I never expected this from you Y/N.” I stare at her blankly, do I jump her? “You get out of here, before I call over those officers. Looks like your boy is already in trouble too. Disappointing, both of you.”

I look over my shoulder, Dean’s being pushed away by two cops and there’s a large crowd surrounding the tent including Roy. Maybe they evacuated. I turn back to Sue Ann but she’s already pushing past me, heading to the crowd. Oh no. Layla walks up to him next and she seems to be upset with him. How much did I miss? I rush towards Dean, Layla walking away, “What did you do?” I whisper yell. “You said to distract Roy!” he argues.

“I didn’t mean to get in trouble with the police!”

“‘Don’t matter, did you get it?” Dean asks with a quirked eyebrow. “No,” I grumble, “She caught me in my attempt and started lecturing me, I was thinking of just jumping her before she pointed out your run in with the police.”

“You were gonna jump the woman?!” He exclaims.

“I didn’t know what to do!!” I hissed, “And it’s not like I did it!” I let out a frustrated sigh, crossing my arms across my chest, “We need a new plan, where’s Sammy?”

“‘Think he’s waiting by the car, ‘hope he’s got somethin’ Roy’s gonna do a private healing session with Layla tonight.”

“Great,” I mumble, “I really should have jumped her.”

I sit criss cross applesauce on the hard motel bed. For a hunt that I knew so much about I had royally blown it. She was right there. The necklace right there. “Please tell me you found something helpful in their home” I pleaded.

“I found the spell book, written by a priest who went dark side,” Sam answers, holding up the small book, “And she isn’t just killing random people. She’s forcing the Reaper to kill people she finds immoral, from some teacher who was openly gay to a woman who advocated for abortion rights.” The room fell quiet for a moment, there were more layers to this than we thought. “May God save us from half the people who think they're doing God's work” Dean muses.

“No seriously that’s messed up,” I add, shaking my head. “Yeah,” Sam nods, “I think you should hold onto this book Y/N.” He hands it over and I hold it cautiously in my hand, “How nice.” I’ll probably spend the next couple of days reading it over before ultimately sending it home, I did not need a spell book on dark magic with me, didn't even need to own it but rather me than get in the wrong hands.

“We should head back soon” Dean says, “Layla could be there any minute”

The Impala rolls over the graveled road for the second and hopefully final time today, this time with total darkness cloaking us no lights on. We roll to a stop, “That's Layla's car. She's already here,” Sam points out.

Dean nods slowly, “Yeah.” He was upset, “Dean…” Sam began. But Dean ignores him, looking out the window instead, “You know if Roy woulda picked Layla instead of me she'd be here right now. And if she's not healed tonight she's gonna die in a coupla’ months.” I should’ve known my dramatic speech from before wouldn’t magically resolve him of his guilt, no one has that power. “What's happening to her is horrible,” Sam reasons, “But what are you gonna do? Let somebody else die to save her? You said it yourself Dean, you can't play God.”

Dean goes quiet for a beat before getting out of the car, Sam and I following. We approach the tent, peeking inside to see Roy speaking to a small group of people including Layla and her mom, “Gather round, please everyone, gather round. Come in closer, come on up.”

“Where's Sue Ann?” Dean whispers. I tried to crane my neck to look around the tent, maybe she was off to the side somewhere… “House,” Sam answers simply.

We creep up to the small house, weary of making too much noise we couldn’t afford to get caught, “You guys go find Sue Ann, I'll catch up,” Dean orders. I look at him confused, “Wait, what are you gonna—“ But Dean’s already backing away from us yelling, “Hey!” to two figures in the distance. “You gonna put that fear of God in me?” he yells out, of course he would be taunting the police. The officers drop what looks to be coffee cups before running after him, Dean taking off at full speed. Only he would do something so stupid. “Uh, anyways” I begin, “If she’s doing it at her house she’s probably by the altar, and considering the size and necessities of the thing and the fact her husband doesn't know it would have to be in an attic or basement.”

“I’ll offer you one better” Sam nods off to the side of the building, “a cellar.” He was right, that would be better. And on top of that definite light emerges from the metal doors. Sam leads the way opening up the heavy doors and propping it open as he makes his way down first. I follow suit immediately being hit with the sight that is the altar, a small table adorned with candle operas filled by tall burning candles, parts of dead animals, bones and blood sprawled out meticulously across the red table cloth. And right in the middle was a black and white surveillance photo of Dean before he was healed, the photo smeared in blood.

“I gave him life and I can take it back too” A familiar voice suddenly says. Sue Ann. I turn around hastily being met with cold eyes, behind me I hear a large crash and I don’t have to look to know Sam had flipped over the table. Her eyes flip to the scene and I use the initial shock to rush her, but she was already close to the stairs so it did not take her long to sweep up them slamming the cellar doors behind her. Something clicks and shifts, she must have locked us in here. Sam joins me at my side, pushing and fighting against the barred doors. “Can't you see? The Lord chose me to reward the just and punish the wicked,” she reasons, “And Dean is wicked and he deserves to die just as Layla deserves to live. It is God's will.”

Oh, so that twisted psycho thinks that’s how it is. Well she messed with the wrong witch. “You're gonna wanna back up” I tell Sam. I press my palms to the cold metal of the doors, I’m pissed now. No one gets to use magic, let alone dark magic, on either of my boys. The doors begin to rattle harshly, almost as if there’s an earthquake, “Goodbye Sam, Y/N” she says. I put more force on the door, my entire being focused on it until it burst open bits of chipped paint and screws flying away, a satisfying break of the wood she used to block us ringing in my ears as broken bits of the wood come crashing back down.

Sue Ann stands but a couple feet away, her eyes wide as she watches me exit the cellar with shock and fear. She backs up further and I follow after her like a predator trapping its prey. “I-I read about things like you” she says weakly, her voice shaking. She keeps backing up, “You’re a—You’re a—“ her back hits the wall of a nearby trailer house. “Witch” I finished for her, yanking off that necklace once and for all.

I throw it off to the side, far away, and back up from her. My job was done and the Reaper would come knocking for its own revenge. “My God, what have you done?,” she heaves, pressing a hand to where her necklace used to be. “He’s not your God” Sam says cooly. Her head snaps to something in the distance, her face falls growing pale she must be seeing the Reaper. Then all at once she takes off running, not making it very far before she falls to her knees, her body convulsing once, twice, before falling to the ground. “I think we have just aided in her murder” I muse.

“Yeah…” Sam nods, “We should probably…” This time I nod, not saying anything as we walk away from the crime heading back in the direction of the Impala. We intercept Dean on the way, meeting at the car. I give him a small thumbs up to say we did it this time and he nods solemnly. “You okay?” Sam asks him.

“Hell of a week” he answers.

I glanced up from my phone for the fifth time in the last minute. I was trying to text Adeline to update her on everything but kept getting distracted by Dean's blank face as he stared off at nothing while sitting in bed. I made eye contact with Sam, giving him a sad smile, we were thinking the same thing. He turns to his brother, watching him for a moment before speaking, “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Dean replies gruffly. Sam looks back at me again and I give him an encouraging nod, “What is it?” he asks again this time more gently.

“We did the right thing here didn't we?” Dean asks, finally breaking. It was difficult to answer him, on one hand we stopped someone from playing God and killing people who they found immoral in which none of the victims were bad people, it wasn’t like they were criminals but to her they were still wicked (god forbid someone has a different opinion than you). But on the other hand it was saving people, except to pay one life for another wasn’t exactly gracious work. Yet, we were doing the same thing, trying to play God and cheat death. I had even admitted to being willing to make great scarface’s to do so, in that aspect I wasn’t so different from Sue Ann in the very beginning.

“Of course we did,” Sam answers, and he really does sound sure. Dean sighs, hanging his head, “It doesn't feel like it.” Suddenly there’s a knock at the door and the parallel from only earlier in the week is not lost on me, “I got it” Sam volunteers getting up from his seat to open the door, “Hey Layla. Come on in.”

Huh.

“Hey” she waves awkwardly. Dean quickly rises from his place on the bed, “How did you know we were here?”

“Sam...called. He said you...wanted to say goodbye?”

Dean glances at Sam and I join in on the glaring, he really needs to start telling me things sooner. But he just smiles sheepishly, “I'm gonna...grab a soda.”

I stand abruptly from my chair, Dean should have his time with Layla. Maybe he won’t feel as guilty, “I’m gonna join you” I declare, “A soda sounds great!” I follow Sam out the door, closing it behind me.

[kazuiislazy]

Hey can i request spn Michael x tribrid (angel demon witch) and demigoddess daughter of whatever god/goddess reader and him just kill for her because him have a crush on her and etc and happy ending between them.

“Kill For You”

A/N: I couldn't really write the tribrid part because i don't really know/understand how to write it.. (sorry). And also ooc Michael but yeah.. it's cringe and it's not proofread. You shouldn’t have been in this situation at all. You are the daughter of Athena for Chuck’s sake. So how exactly are you now bleeding all over the floor in the bunker? A certain demon had found out how to hurt or well, kill you. And shit did celestial metal hurt like hell. You were able to escape but the demon had managed to give you a serious cut. 

Leaning against the wall of the bathroom, you groaned. Sam and Dean were panicking, they had managed to bandage your wound but you were still practically bleeding out. When you heard the familiar flapping of wings, you assumed it was Castiel. “Cas, get your ass here and just heal me already,” you muttered without turning to look at him. 

Turns out it wasn’t Cas. “Cas, I swear to-” when you turned to look at the angel, it wasn’t Castiel. It was Michael. He tilted his head at you as if trying to rationalise how you’d end up in this situation. Both of you stared at one another in silence. Eventually, he walked towards you, and placed two fingers on your forehead. 

A ticklish sensation ran through your body– your wound was gone. You let out a deep breath. “Thank you,” you said. Michael was crouched in front of you, there was a sliver of concern in his eyes. “Who hurt you?” Why did he want to know? “Demon..” You were embarrassed to admit it but you didn’t want to lie about it. 

“Do you know the demon’s name?” You shook your head. Michael grimaced. “I’ll be back.” With that, you were left with a confused pair of Winchester brothers. They exchanged glances and gawked at you like you were a ghost. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked. Sam opened and closed his mouth.

The three of you stared at each other. “You’re just going to ignore that?” Dean spoke. “Ignore what?” You were genuinely confused. “I dunno, Michael being all nice and protective?”Now you were even more confused. “He’s always like that..?” Sam’s eyes widened. “He’s always-” He was shocked. “He is not always like that.” 

“Well-” but before you could argue, the sound of flapping wings sounded again. It was still Michael. “I dealt with the issue.” Oh. “You killed the demon..?” He gave a firm nod. “Oh. Uh, thanks.” you smiled, at least you didn’t have to worry about that anymore. Michael handed you the weapon that the demon was carrying. “Thought you might want to keep this.” 

– 

That was a while ago, now here you are– happily in a “relationship” (if you can call it that) with the archangel. Dean and Sam still found it surprising and were in fact still very weirded out by this. Castiel was… well, uh.. also surprised? “G’morning,” you yawned. Dean was making breakfast. “Great night?” “Huh?” you looked down and you realised you were wearing one of Michael’s shirts (it’s not really his but lets pretend). Oh. 

“Uhm,” Sam rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t even want to begin to know,” You flushed. Suddenly, you felt two hands wrap around your waist. You felt Michael place a kiss on the back of your neck. “Woah! Seriously, get a room,” Dean made a disgusted face and so did his brother. “Agreed..” 

[sweetpapercroissant]

When I think about s13-15 I can’t help but feel that Dabb was simply not interested in telling Sam&Dean’s story (anymore) (if he ever was). s12 is a little rocky regarding this too, but it’s still unmistakable that they’re the protagonists, this story is their story. But it’s evident from the start of s13 that he’s not willing to put in that effort anymore.

He introduces Jack and the rest of the season is focused on him, one way or the other. Even the mytharc of the season is about him, from being trapped in the apocalypse world, making a place for himself with the hunters, trying to figure out who he is. And meanwhile the actual protagonists of the show are…..running around chasing leads but actually accomplishing very little. They take turns being sad, make a few speeches but don’t really do anything. They are not the ones who move the story.

He downplays (if not outright erases) all of the older characters’ intelligence to make them fit the story and doesn’t bother with consistent growth/arc for any of them. He beats and forces them to fit the shape he’s cut out for them to portray in his story instead of understanding them: who they were, how they grew and where they are now and logically advancing their story from that point. He makes them regress or progress on a moment’s notice on an episode-to-episode basis and ignores any preceding canonical events when it suits him.

It’s most noticeable with Dean but he also takes away from Sam and Cas’ characters till they’re almost unrecognisable, bearing only the most superficial of similarities with the characters we have grown to love over 10+ seasons. But at the same time he also relies on this very love to keep the viewers watching, since the plot itself is barely held together by retcons or sudden personality changes/loss of logical reasoning in the characters.

There have been discussions on how, as the show goes on the themes (even the genre) change and how vastly different the later seasons are compared to the earlier ones and while that’s true, there is still some coherence to those changes-a graphical line changing direction erratically perhaps, but a line nonetheless-as the story progresses….upto s12. Forward of that Dabb just-tears the graph to pieces and handpicks a few of them to nail to the wall.

He twists the characters, their history, their personalities, the themes and events of the story and it’s very heart to fit the show he wants to make instead of adapting his writing to the show that he’s actually been handed the reins to. And it’s tiring honestly.

I do believe that when a character behaves in a manner you find ooc, it can be interesting to think about why they may act that way instead of immediately blaming the writing, even if the writing may actually be the issue, because I think it can make for a more entertaining narrative sometimes, and because no one always acts true to who they are. It’s the point of being human. But that can only be applied to particular moments and decisions or behaviour concerning a certain element of the story (another character, an event etc). If your audience can barely recognise any of the characters, there’s only the writing to blame.

[my-prompt-dump]

Girl!Sam, Protective!Dean, and College

Wincest if you squint but it can just be them fucking with people.

AU so it's a bit OOC? But also I think they would do this just for a good prank.

Please no hate! Just sharing ideas for you all!

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

The premise is they have a case and dean has to go undercover as a college professor (occult subject or some college sports coach).

It should have been Sam but she argued that she was already doing the research part, so it's only fair if Dean is the one to get into the school. (There's also the fact that Sam is still a bit bitter about the whole college and Stanford thing)

Dean eventually relented, stating he would die of boredom buried in books and at least the college has some hot girls.

Dean instantly became popular among the girls in the college with some even outright asking him out. He flirts back but can't go out with any of them.

Sam: We don't want you getting fired before the week ends, Dean!

Stupid Sam and always being right.

Dean always takes the Impala to the university and some girls hang out close to it in hopes to catch him in the parking lot. To flirt, to shoot their shot, or just to admire.

Sam: Just pick me up, jerk! Dean: Bitch, I'm swamped as shit here. I told you it would have been better if your nerd ass is the one going undercover! Plus you're the one with info so you come to me. Sam: Are you fucking serious?! I'm wearing heels, remember? Cos you said to seduce the poor intern in the library. Dean: Well, it worked, didn't it? Just get Cas to take you here and wait for me on the car. Sam: I hate you. Dean: On the car, Sam! Sam: I'll wait for you on the car, alright. Dean: What did you just say?! Sam: Nothing, jerk! Dean: Bitch!

And that's how Sam's day is going now.

A crowd has formed in the said parking lots. The whole place is littered with angry looking girls and also guys who are practically drooling.

They see a gorgeous woman laying sexily on the hood of their professor Dean's Impala; denim jeans, plaid shirt with leather jacket, sunglasses, and red lipstick. She is just sitting theret unbothered by the crowd and the attention.

Sam thinks that if Dean was going to be ungentlemanlike then she's going to be as unladylike as possible. And that means lounging on top of her brother's precious Baby.

Student 1: Huh. No wonder the guys are acting like dogs in heat.

Student 2: Isn't that Professor Dean's car?

A group of self-proclaimed popular girls (like seriously? Who labels themselves that in college?) who have been trying to get with Dean finally had enough approaches the woman.

Girl 1 (Emily): Excuse me, you can't sit there.

Sam quirks an eyebrow but doesn't move.

Sam: This your car?

Emily: Well-uh no. But

Sam: Then why are you telling me to get off?

Emily splutters, clearly flustered that someone outright asks her that instead of doing what she says. She huffs and thinks of the best excuse she can use.

Emily: It's my boyfriend's!

Sam had to cough to mask her laugh but she humours the girl.

Sam: Oh really?

Emily: Yeah oh! So get off before we make you regret it.

Sam chuckled but still doesn't move and that only made the girl angrier.

Soon Dean comes out of the school after getting stuck in a meeting with a professor that he was 80% sure is trying to get in his pants. He spots the crowded parking lot and walked faster.

He becomes angry at noticing that everyone is getting a little too close to his Baby and shouts at them which made students jump.

The girl spots him and sees it as her opportunity to try and fake date Dean and to reprimand the woman on the hood. Maybe this will get her in his radar.

Emily: Dean! This rude woman won't move from your car's hood even tho we kept telling her to! She's getting it scratched!

Dean, though, ignores her and walks up to the mystery woman.

Dean: Why didn't you just call me that you were here already?

Sam: Phone died.

Dean: We were just talking.

Sam: So?

God, having a little sibling is infuriating.

Sam: Besides, I was talking to your girlfriend.

She wiggles her eyebrows obnoxiously and Dean's reacted like how she expected.

Dean: The fuck you talking about? I don't have a girlfriend. Why would I have one when i got you here to be a bitch about everything I do.

He says it so loud too so everyone heard it. Sam laughed all the while Dean checks the car's condition.

Everyone's jaw drops because Dean knew this person?? And they were talking so casually. Is she his girlfriend??

Dean remains oblivious to the crowd's shock and turns back to Sam.

Dean: Did you walk here? Where's Cas?

Sam: No. Unlike you, Cas knows how to treat a woman and took me here so politely. He was just here a minute ago but then people kept piling up and-

Dean: That will happen if you sit there like a model on vogue magazine.

Sam: Flattering but also ew.

Dean rolls his eyes but moves to help her get down from the hood.

Seeing smoke practically coming out of Emily and the other girls' ears, Sam smirked and had an idea.

Once she's down, she instantly snakes her arms around Dean's neck and leans close to his ears.

Sam: See? That wasn't so bad, was it?

Dean: Yeah yeah. You're lucky you're cute.

Emily’s face turned beet red.

Emily: Dean, who is this..?

Dean looked at Rachel, finally noticing her.

Dean: A pain in my ass.

Sam: Speak for yourself.

Seeing some guys in the crowd eyeing her a little too closely, Sam decided to up the ante. She pressed herself closer to Dean, running a hand through his hair.

Sam: Come on, Dean. Let’s get out of here.

Dean noticed the lingering stares from the guys and his protective instincts kicked in. He pulled Sam even closer, glaring at the gawking students.

Dean: Yeah. And all of you! Keep your eyes to yourselves, or I’ll make sure you regret it. This is off-limits!

They drive off and Sam can't stop laughing as she explains the whole ordeal to Dean.

Sam: Your admirers are so territorial, dude. Dean: Shut up.

[eisforeidolon]

https://www.tumblr.com/eisforeidolon/720633879381278720/yeah-blatantly-transparent-nonsense-like-this-is

Destiel shippers truly make me feel like I’m taking crazy pills. Like, what they consider romantic, I see as abusive. Things they see as flirting, I see between Sam and Dean to a greater extent and more frequently. And, no, I don’t actually ship Wincest. But like, if Dean is really into guys based on what they consider to be heart eyes and significant eye contact, then he’s also REALLY into his brother. Also, Dean literally calls Cas a brother, so that suggests he isn’t into him sexually, but in THAT context the label of brother doesn’t matter. Hellers are so hypocritical that it makes my head spin.

Also, imagine Jensen Ackles and Misha Colin’s actually kissing as Dean and Cas. Picture it. It’s so unappealing it makes me slightly queasy. Not because they’re guys, but because Misha is Misha and Cas is a sexless weirdo. There is nothing sexy there, people!

Crazy pills.

Also, both Dean and Cas describe SAM as having things like delicate features or beautiful hair. Has Dean said anything complementary about Castiel's looks even once? Has he described him as anything but a nerd, baby in a trench coat or talking dog? I don’t think I have ever even heard Cass describe Dean as attractive, unless I just blocked it out. Destiel is based off of so little canon, it’s mind-boggling how many people have bought into this garbage barge of a ship.

Sorry for the rant, but it just doesn’t compute. And the entitlement that goes with it is just insane.

Yeah, they start from the conclusion they want to believe and then decide what to consider canon based on that, not the other way around. Which is why they're constantly contradicting themselves and trying to metaphorically exaggerate flat ground into mountains and anthills into Alps.

Dean does talk him up as attractive in 12x12 - as part of trying to set him up with the waitress who is ignoring everyone else at the table to hit on Castiel. (The waitress was one of this whole bizarre series of weird, clumsy asides the later seasons of the show kept adding in where random characters would pointedly make a big deal of how totes hot Castiel was. I don't think they intended it to be comical, but when he was usually right next to Sam & Dean ... well.) Other that that, yeah, everything else I can think of Dean using to describe him is at least either moderately insulting or neutral literal descriptors like "dark hair" and "blue eyes". (OMG Dean noticed Jimmy's Castiel's eye color, twue lurve!!!)

They really did just make up an entirely different show in their heads and convince themselves it was the REAL one. Like, they don't just insist they like their generic YA romance novel OOC glurge fanfic better, but that it really totally happened somewhere in secret code between the characters' eyeblinks. The entitlement is obnoxious as hell, but it really is sort of fascinating from the perspective of weird group behavior in building shared delusions.

[ardentpoop]

I’m not even a Castiel fan (in fact I lean heavily towards dislike depending on how annoying his fans are being on average day which tends to be a lot) but damn that confession scene was just a disservice his character. it reduces all of his character development to oh it’s because he loved dean which is a gross oversimplification and really insulting to all of his other relationships like Sam and Jack. And him dying while saying Dean is the most selfless person is like sick joke and really pathetic after Dean tries to sacrifice everyone and Jack, the son figure whom he loves. It’s just hilarious hearing that after 15x17. I’m not a Castiel fan but man if I was I would be upset cause that confession just butchered him. But it seems like most of the outcry is about dstiel which I have no sympathy for.

the fandom frankly makes it very difficult for me to consistently like him. similar experience as my experience with dean but worse because cas is objectively a fanservice character in that he only stuck around to please the shippers and it shows so clearly in the absolute mess of his writing overall - which is partially why I feel deeply insulted when fans attempt to elevate him above sam narratively rather than discussing the intentional parallels btwn the two characters. many character arcs in this show including those of the other members of “t.fw 2.0” in the late seasons were sloppily recycled from sam, whom a staggering percentage of this audience is determined to ignore to their own detriment (developing a more nuanced understanding of sam helps you better understand every other central character in this show and I am not saying that lightly.)

anyway yeah I obviously can’t stand that scene it is unwatchable to me and while tbh I don’t consider it to be OOC for really anyone on this show - certainly not cas - to hold the same flat and romanticized view of dean that most of this audience takes at face value, it pisses me off anyway lmfao. like if I were to write one-sided cas confession to dean I could melt these ppl’s faces off I think, given their evidently astoundingly low standards <3 unfortunately for the majority I don’t give a flying fuck abt that if sam’s not involved somehow. also had no idea before I looked it up just now that this was a berens episode which genuinely surprises me bc the quality of cas’s monologue (like, from a technical perspective) is SO shit and usually my guy can do a lot better than late-seasons-dabb tier emotions 😔

anyway(x2) sam and cas’s interactions in “unity” will always be extremely special to me as will their co-parenting of jack that most of the fandom stupidly doesn’t appreciate. cringy confession scene has absolutely nothing on cas craning around dean (their patriarch) to frantically ask sam “why not?” before dean shepherded jack off to his death for the Greater Good while sam pleaded with him not to <3

[lukesfrag]

Honestly as a Sam stan it's hard to choose one, if there was an option "All of the above" I would vote for that one, but since there isn't I voted for "Sam rarely relationships that weren't also Dean's, or Dean approved."

I've already mentioned this once but I'll do it again, it seems like Sam can't have friends other than Dean (or Dean's own friends). Whenever Sam tries to have a relationship other than those, 1.The person dies or 2.They reveals themselfs to be a villain, and I hate that a lot. "B-But Castiel and Charlie are Sam's friends too!" No, they're Dean's friends! They favor Dean, they talk to Dean more, they clearly favor Dean. It wouldn't hurt to give at least 1 character for Sam to have a bond that wasn't his brother, and I believe that's why there aren't many slash ships with Sam besides het ones, because they don't give a male character for him to have a bond.

The first option, to this day I hate what the writers did, Sam was clearly supposed to have his powers forever (they were given to him after all), but they took it away because it would make Dean weak 🙄🙄🙄🙄

The second one, I don't even need to explain, Sam must have killed Lucifer, after everything he went through he deserved the revenge.

The rest of the options was once again the writers favoring Dean. This becomes even clearer, especially in the narrative of S8 vs S7 (better, Benny vs Amy thing). Sam is clearly OOC in the entire S8 (no wonder it's the season I hate most with all my might), in addition to the fact that the fandom ignores what Dean did to Amy (imagine if it was Sam killing Benny in front of a kid that was the vampire's son? Dean stans would lose their shit.). Yes, I hate Benny and no one is going to stop me from that, Sam should have killed him. (One of the trials, should have been killing a monster that came out of purgatory 😌)

Sometimes I wish Jared had gotten out of this garbage show when they started treating his character (and him) badly like this. I'm sure this shit would get canceled soon after.

A poll for Sam fans, by Sam fans...

This sort of poll is running at another spn polls account, but they admit "I'm not a samgirl and I rarely read posts from Sam fans. I did a little research for this poll, but I can accidentally misrepresent views of Sam fans with these options." Points for self-awareness! As Sam fans who *do* enjoy the character and read posts by his fans, let's give the SPN fandom a better option, for all the fans. None blocked.

(* these are not Dean or Cas-negative observations, but observations about how the show treated the characters differently in very similar situations)

[estrangedaframian]

MOBILE-FRIENDLY GUIDELINES

Do

Send ic asks and memes! You are never bothering me with these, no matter how many.

Talk to me about your ideas for ships, threads, plots, etc. You may come into my inbox or DMs at any time, day or night. I LOVE hearing from my rp partners :)

Write me starters and tag me in stuff if you’re compelled to (provided it doesn’t break one of the below rules).

Don’t

Ask me about my day, my life, or anything overtly personal. I make exceptions for good buddies of mine, but I can’t stand it when people I don’t know from Adam start prying. I am in a bad situation that I can’t get out of; it burns when I have to be reminded of that. I’d rather not have to lie, ignore, or make something up just to satisfy someone, you know?

Reblog memes from me if we haven’t interacted. Please use the source whenever possible.

Say ‘Hi’ or [insert generic greeting]. Again, this doesn’t apply to my close friends. You KNOW who you are.

Ask me if I want to rp with you. If you wish to start writing with me, I expect you to do the leg work. Also, I expect you to have read my rules beforehand.

Expect romantic ships with Harry Warden or Soldier Boy; Harry is single ship with @pasiphaedemetriadevil’s Isis, and Soldier Boy aka Ben is single ship with @lovelylostminds’s Charlotte as female muses go and selective with male muses.

Fetishise LGBTQA+, religiousness, children/youth, or animals.

Send me random pics of my muse(s) faceclaim(s) or give me updates on their activities. I am am aware of the fact that I’m weird for being this way, but actors as themselves ooc trigger me really badly.

Use imagery of spiders or spider-esque things in our interactions ic or ooc. Even stylized ones will not be tolerated.

Talk about abusing animals or use animal-abusing imagery ic or ooc.

Wincest or Destiel. I don’t ship it and I won’t rp it. Platonic is fine. Any pics of Destiel or Cockles will be tagged for shipping partners that play one of the faceclaims involved. I am not endorsing either of the aforementioned ships.

Approach with OCs who are said to be related to Sam or Dean unless heavily discussed and on the condition that I already know you.

Banned fc(s): Danneel Harris, Gen Padalecki, Jonas Brothers, Imogen Poots, K-Pop members, Jack Nicholson, Madelyn Cline

Asterisk roleplay, such as *walks over to the table*. Dialogue for roleplays must be contained within a parameter e.g. quotation marks, brackets, etc. I will not respond if your character is speaking and it blends into the general narrative.

about the mun

Older than 28, GNC, he/they pronouns. Not searching for anything remotely romantic or sexual with my writing partners; I have life-ruining celebrity crusheslike the best of us but in practice I am asexual. However, I do very much enjoy sexual themes and shipping in rps, and I can of course appreciate male and female beauty for what it is, both fictional and real. Unapologetic vegan. I have several disabilities, so please try to be patient with my speech, tone, and overall writing. I am battling SEVERE depression, and I ask you to please bear this in mind when interacting with me ooc. That said, I try my best to be a good friend and writer in the rp community.

While mun ≠ muse, Dean is somewhat of a vicarious character for me, and he and I will share similar views from time to time. This may periodically result in my portrayal not adhering to canon or popular fanon, but do not use this to attack either myself or my muse(s).

I don’t support the canon spn finale in any way, shape, or form.

If I feel I can’t read your replies, grammatically speaking, I’m just going to drop it. Hot potato-style. Same goes if I feel like you’re not giving equal effort to the thread. Oh, and I can’t see those wack formats well.

If I receive too many asks of the same nature, from the same muse, I will simply delete the/certain of the asks at my discretion.

For my own comfort, I will block any and all bloggers who are self-proclaimed ‘Satanists’ (don’t care what the suffix is).

My only hard ‘no’ with any ship is non-con. Obviously will not ship any minor characters.

[prodigil]

true facts? true tea? is that everything after s5 is ooc, for the sole reason that (while theres a lot ooc, we’re discounting it for the sake of this post for now) were sam to actually return from the cage, he would not contact dean, and he would make an active effort to ensure dean got to live a new, peaceful life. he would never put himself back in dean’s life and ruin whatever form of happiness he could claim.

[hyacinthsdiamonds]

Reasons I hated the ending;

Inconsistent ooc writing. I don't know who the f was on my screen but that wasn't the Sam or Dean we've grown with for fifteen years.

Plot holes; the vampire mimes??? Where did they come from?? Because John thought Vampires were extinct until Dead Man's Blood and then he's you know dead so when did he have this supposed hunt with these pathetic excuses for a typical monster of the week villain let alone the last ever one?

Jenny. She wasn't even named in her first episode. Not once in fifteen years did one viewer go "I wonder what happened to her". Nostalgia? Most people didn't recognize her. She's only notable for being part of the first wlw and same-sex kiss on the show which was nonconsensual because the other girl forced herself on Jenny and only did it for the amusement of the men watching. There's also interesting points regarding to the show's vilification of queer people in the early seasons as majority of the first queer characters were what the show deemed monsters and were portrayed as predatory or destructive (they literally had Lily accidentally kill her girlfriend by touching her) and if they were "human" they were used as the punchline until Charlie when we actually got good rep and she was eventually butchered. Most queer characters ended up dead, or at least dead from some time. Only four queer characters are even hinted to be alive at the end (we don't know nothing about Charlie 2.0's fate), Kaia and Claire who's reunion and overall ending is left open to interpretation (hinted they're alive as Donna texted Sam which hints the wayward sisters are ok), Max who as far as we are aware is still condemned to go to Hell when he dies and Chuck one of if not the only canon bisexual males in the show was vilified to such a significant degree it doesn't matter that he's still alive. To have Jenny be the character they bring back while ignoring the show's integral queer characters like Charlie or Crowley or Claire or Cas etc is something else when the nonconsensual kiss was what turned her into a vampire.

Of the three female characters we see in the finale none have any connections to the viewers. Jenny the only character we've seen before is killed immediately. Blurry wife literally only exists to provide the womb for Sam to have a son to name after Dean so it doesn't look like he kidnapped a random kid, she's not deemed important enough to be even seen properly. "Sam could've ended up with anymore it's open to interpretation" bullshit because that's clearly a white woman which erases so many interpretations and it is so clearly a cop out. The third is a woman who literally gets silenced at the start of the episode, she gets her tongue cut out. The most we get is a text from Donna and a line about Mary.

Cas' ending. You pulled Chekhov's gun out. The gun had to go off but instead of acknowledging his confession, they refused to allow Dean to voice his feelings, refused to even give Cas a concrete ending. We don't know for an absolute fact if he's in heaven, all we're told is Cas helped. His death is literally bury your gays, an example of out of the closet and into the fire. He deserved better as a main character of twelve years.

Dean's death is problematic as fuck. His death is implied to be a suicide. It's said to be a good thing, him dying, him dying that way. This still fucks me up. He deserved to live. He deserved so much, I see him having some sort of roadhouse like Ellen taking care of wayward children and hunters alike, and having some sort of auto shop like Bobby did. I see him aged and happy. I see Cas beside him as he should be.

Sam's ending is bullshit. It erases fifteen years of character development, of relationships and it makes it all pointless. Sam is forced to lead the life he would've lived had Dean not showed up at his dorm in the pilot. What was the point of any of it? Was Dean just a fifteen year interruption of his brother's real life? His character arc was leading towards a completely different route and they did a full 180 and regressed his character so much. Sam should've become the next Bobby, teaching and helping a new generation of hunters and he should've gotten to keep/use his powers. He should've gotten to pass on Rowena's knowledge to a new generation of witches too and I'll die on both those hills.

EILEEN LEAHY DESERVED FUCKING BETTER. First you kill her by hellhounds. You kill a deaf woman with something she needs to be able to hear in order to have a chance at surviving. Second you bring her back, develop her and Sam's relationship and then you kill her again, don't give Sam a chance to even react to it and then leave her fate unknown and then throw in blurry wife to add insult to injury.

The pacing was so off. Like carry on wayward son plays back to back twice in a weird montage??

The party city wig. It's genuinely laughable. Like that's what the cw went broke over lmfao.

It's hilariously bad for your average monster of the week episode. As a final ever episode, it's like spitting and peeing into the fans drink and forcing them to drink it.

It wasn't for the fans. I know some fans liked it, I disagree with their opinions but respect them BUT it's clear that the episode was the way it was for people who ditched the show earlier on in it's run could tune in and not feel like they missed anything, which for a show with 15 seasons should never have been the case. It was a kick in the face for those who stuck it out from beginning to end

Amara's ending doesn't sit right with me. Like she's just absorbed into Jack? Jack at three is God? Amara should've been God and Jack should've gotten to be a kid on Earth.

Rusty. Nail. Andrew Dabb why did you hate Dean Winchester and Jensen Ackles?

What about Cas' deal with Ruby? What about Rowena and the demons in Hell? What happened to Adam? Everyone Chuck snapped allegedly got brought back (no confirmation on Eileen, Charlie 2.0 or Stevie) but Michael got vaporized in Adam's body so what happened to Adam next? Forgotten again ffs. The vamp mimes are their own plot hole but how did they and Jenny team up? Like what connection did they even have? I could go on forever on forgotten plotlines and blatant plot holes.

John Winchester being in heaven.

Ruining carry on my wayward son. It's literally a jump scare at this point for me

Things I liked about the finale;

The dog

The party city wig for the memes only

[make-me-imagine]

Our Little Secret

Prompts: "If there was ever anybody meant for me, it's you." + "I think…everyone deserves a chance to prove themselves” & Mar 12: Crowley checks in to make sure you are alright (no third prompt). Requested By: Three separate Anons.

Pairing: Crowley x GN!Reader; Y/n insert *maybe slightly ooc Crowley, who is a bit more "human" and lovesick.

Warnings: Brief mentions of injury; and a kiss at the end.

Words: 1.6k

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @caswinchester2000, @imaginesfire, @rexit-mo Supernatural Taglist: @kaashi, @witchygagirl

-

Crowley looked around the dingy hotel room, ignoring the quick turns of Sam and Dean as they drew their guns on him. Also ignoring their displeased groans, he clicked his tongue. "Lovely choice. Always a fan of the mysterious stains on the ceilings." He said with a smirk as he turned to the boys.

"What the hell are you doing here Crowley?" Dean asked.

Crowley shrugged lightly. "Bored?"

Sam squinted at him, giving Dean a look showing his disbelief. "Uh-huh. What do you want?" Sam asked.

Crowley lifted his arms in an open gesture. "Who said I wanted anything?"

"Well, you sure as hell didn't come just to check in on us."

"What if I did? Maybe I've grown fond of our time together" Crowley said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. His eyes cast over the room behind Sam and Dean. "You two aren't fun anyways, where is Y/n, my lovely little hunter go off on their own?" He asked casually, looking down and flipping through a journal on the table.

Dean walked over, slamming it shut, as he eyed Crowley. "Sorry Crowley, Y/n's not here for you to torture with your charm."

"How disappointing. Why's that. Did Y/n get tired of you two, and leave the nest? I'd applaud if they did."

Dean rolled his eyes as Sam adjusted himself awkwardly, looking between Dean and Crowley. "Y/n wasn't able to come on this hunt." He said casually, but noted how Crowley's attention grew as he turned to face Sam.

"And why's that?" He asked.

Sam furrowed his brow, noting the seemingly genuine curiosity in his voice. He looked over at Dean, who seemed to be distracting himself with something.

Looking back at Crowley he shrugged his shoulder. "Y/n got hurt on the last case, and had to stay back at the bunker to recover."

"Well I'm surprised they've made it this far, most in your company don't make it a year."

Sam was almost thrown by the amount of malice in Crowley's voice. Maybe he really hadn't been joking all those times he showed interest in you, and maybe 'his little hunter' wasn't just a teasing nickname after all.

"Hey!" Dean say turning around to face him. "If you aren't here for any real purpose, beat it, we've got a job to do."

Crowley shrugged. "Fine"

Sam and Dean let out breaths of relief when Crowley vanished from the room. Dean returning to his previous tasks, paying no more thought to Crowley. But Sam had a nagging feeling that he knew exactly where Crowley was going.

- - -

"So this is how you spend your days of recovery?"

You jumped as Crowley's voice came from nowhere, causing you to turn in surprise. You winced and let out a hiss of pain as you grumbled out in anger. "Don't do that."

Crowley frowned as he rounded the couch, seeing you adjust yourself with a pained expression. Pausing the show you had on the tv, you looked up at him. "What the hell are you doing here anyways?" You asked, trying to ignore your quick paced heartbeat, or the way you felt a chill crawl up your spine as Crowley looked you over.

"Came to check in. Heard from rocky and bullwinkle that you got yourself hurt."

"I didn't get myself hurt." You excused. "A building practically collapsed on top of me, there was nothing I could do about that."

Crowley shrugged his head. "Would you like me to..." he trailed off as he wiggled his fingers.

You grimaced. "Not if you're gonna do that."

He put down his hands with a sot smile. "From the amount of pain you seem to be in, you should be begging for my help."

You rolled your eyes. "Oh you'd just love that wouldn't you?"

He cocked his head and his smile grew. "Immensely."

You let out a short laugh. "Now why are you seriously here? It surely wasn't just because you heard I got hurt."

Crowley let out an annoyed groan. "Why does no one believe I have feelings?"

You furrowed your brow, watching him carefully. "Because you have failed to show an ounce of emotion that was not tied directly to your own benefit?"

He let out a small breath. "Doesn't mean one can't change." His voice was unusually soft as he spoke. Turning he began to pace around the room. "I mean, sure, I'm a demon, The King of Hell. But, I've helped you and the Winchesters more times that I can count, and I've actually cared about the things I helped with. Well, somewhat. So does that not show, that I at least have some semblance of emotion?" He spun around to look at you, noting how bewildered you appeared.

"You really care how we see you don't you? When did that happen?"

Crowley straightened up a bit, and cleared his throat. "I don't know. But don't you think it's possible? That I have the possibility of being....better?"

You watched him for a moment, wading through the confusion that washed over you. You could see the genuine feeling of aggravation in his face. "I- I think....that everyone deserves a chance to prove themselves."

Crowley felt a soft smile cross his face as he walked over to you. Looking down at you, he paused before reaching for your shirt. You froze, feeling your heart hammer in your chest and heat rise up your neck. Lifting your shirt slightly, he could see an array of bandages and bruises. He winced a bit. "That doesn't look good."

Placing his hand on your side, you felt heat wash over you as his hand and your body briefly glowed. You closed your eyes until the light faded. And when you opened them, you reached down and pressed your hand against our side, noting the lack of pain.

Looking up at Crowley you spoke softly. "Is this you trying to prove yourself?"

He smirked. "Not necessarily. But it is me trying to show you why I wish to prove myself." You cocked your head in confusion, and he turned away from you, taking a few steps before he continued. "I lied. When I said I didn't know when I started to care how you saw me. Honestly, I don't care how those two dimwits see me. It's your opinion I care about." He turned back towards you. "And it started from the moment we met."

You shook your head softly in disbelief. "But...why, would you care what I thought?"

Walking back over to you, he stopped light in front of you, staring down into your eyes. Reaching up, he hooked his fingers under your chin, and you felt an unfamiliar wave of emotion flow through you.

"Because I find myself caring about you. About everything to do with you. Where you are. What you need. What makes you smile, or laugh. And when you get hurt. I feel angry, and scared."

"You? Scared?" You almost laughed.

"What I have been feeling. For you. Are...feelings I have not felt for a very, very, long time. If not ever. And no matter what you truly think of me. I know what I think."

You swallowed hard, as you kept your eyes locked with his. "And what's that?"

"I think, that, if there was ever anybody meant for me, it's you."

You felt as though your heart had an anchor on it, as it beat so heavily in your chest, you weren't sure if you could keep breathing.

"I-" You tried to speak, but could not find your voice.

He smiled, a soft, yet sad smile as he dropped his hand from your face. "You don't believe me."

You shook your head a bit, finding some ability to speak. "No, I...think I do believe you, but I'm not sure if I should."

"Because of all my past treachery? I can't say I blame you. But I am surprised at our reaction. No disgust, no yelling. It's almost as if...you knew, was I obvious?"

You shook your head, unsure if you should speak. Crowley cocked his head, before a flash of understanding crossed his face, and a smile slowly broke out.

"No. It's because you feel something too. But it, what? Scares you? Disgusts you?"

You shook your head again. "It doesn't disgust me."

"But it scares you?"

"I-I don't know."

He smiled again, before leaning down, bringing his face up to yours. You didn't move away, but kept your eyes locked with his. Bringing his hand back up, he caressed your cheek.

He spoke in a whisper. "No. It doesn't scare you. And that, is what scares you. But it's alright my little hunter, it can be our little secret." Leaning in, he suddenly pressed his lips against yours.

You tensed in surprise for a moment, before you felt your body relax. Your mind went blank as he deepened the kiss, his hand cupping your chin as you tilted your face up to meet his. His other hand gripped the back of your head.

Bringing your hand up, you wrapped it around his wrist as you returned the kiss, forgetting where you were, and just who you were kissing. Suddenly, your phone rang from beside you, bringing you back to reality.

Pulling away, you opened your eyes, meeting his dark brown ones. A smile spread across his face. "Better answer that, it's probably the dynamic duo checking in."

Almost thoughtlessly, you reached for your phone. Looking at the screen, you began to answer it but paused as Crowley brought his head down to your ear, whispering "But remember darling. Its our little secret."

Turning to look at him, you said nothing before you answered the phone. Aware of his eyes on you the whole time you spoke to Sam. You felt a peculiar itch at the back of your mind, a restlessness wanting you to hang up the phone, to continue what you had been doing before. But you pushed it away, and as you spoke to Sam, you knew there was no way in hell you could tell him anything that had happened, not now, and maybe not ever.

xx End xx

I hate how I ended it, but it had to stop at some point and I couldn't think of much lol.

[destieltaggedfic]

Kinda specific, are there any fics where cas is trying come onto / court Dean, but before dean realizes he’s attracted to cas? Bonus points for Sam not knowing about cas’s feelings (he doesn’t have to be in it, I just always find it OOC when he knows)

I wasn't ignoring this, it has just taken me a while to find some things. There's a lot more fic where Cas is courting him but Dean doesn't realise, rather than Dean doesn't know he likes Cas.

As you possibly know, Sam not knowing or not believing is one of my favourite things, but besides that let's see what I can find.

The Discovery Series - DC_Derringer   Ao3

Set S6ish.  When he discovers and reads Destiel fanfic, Cas decides that the authors are right and he is in love with Dean.  With Sam’s help he gets Dean to agree to a single date, one that is as platonic as Dean can make it.  When they start hanging out in similar scenarios, the angel is confused as to what their relationship actually is  

Word Count: 13k                              Graphic Sexual Acts

The Cabin - Bookkbaby   Ao3

Set S8.  Over the years for his molts Cas has developed a safe space in a cabin to make his nest, a mating nest built with his feathers and Dean’s clothing.  When Dean is in danger the only place he will be safe is the cabin, but what is going to happen when he finally finds out about the nest?

Word Count: 16k      Graphic Sexual Acts

Endeavors in endearment – JustAnotherSamlicker   Ao3

Nonspecific timeframe.  Seeing an article in a trashy magazine about getting your man Cas decides to use its advice to woo Dean.

Word Count: 13k                              No Sex

things happen (they do, they do, and they do) – sobsicles   Ao3

Set 15x20 didn’t happen AU.  Cas comes back just in time to save Dean and in the aftermath they talk about the fact that Dean doesn’t feel the same way.  Cas isn’t going to be quiet about his truth now he’s let it out now and its slowly winning Dean over.

Word Count: 28k                              Non-Graphic Sex        

Local Man Fails At Being Flirted With – seapotato   Ao3

Nonspecific timeframe.  Gifts are being left for Dean around the bunker.  Sam thinks its gross, Dean just knows that Cas is a weird guy.

Word Count: 2k                                 No Sex

Every Story Has to Start Somewhere - tricia_16   Ao3

Set S12.  After Cas kisses Dean and Dean reacts badly, their friendship could be in a weird place, but Dean promises he won’t push Cas away and Cas gets an agreement to try and convince Dean to be in a relationship with him.

Word Count: 27k                              Graphic Sexual Acts

[sinnabonka]

15x19: So bad, that it’s actually good

Yesterday I had the experience of my life. I couldn’t watch the show (hi, everyone stuck in UTC+ shithole), but I couldn’t sleep either, so I ended up at 3 AM reading my people livestreaming it on Tumblr. This was one hell of a roller coaster, given the absurdity of the plot and the weakest writing in this season.

(I don’t mean the excellent and ironical and powerful message to the fandom, we’ll get there)

I was aware beforehand what I was getting, so no major disappointment regarding not seeing Cas back this week. Also, it kinda was my call, that he’ll be back in the final final.

The Ultimate Happy End, the biggest win of Dean Winchester. Chuck’s book ended, and Cas is not in Chuck’s book.

Was it bad? Yes, it was. Did I enjoy it? Hell yeah, I did. 

Everyone on Tumblr already gave their two cents of hatred regarding the writing, the montage, the solemn aim of this episode (spoiler alert: to please the general audience and bronlies), and I will give mine, too. Watcha say?

It was so bad.

I didn’t believe it was the same show as the rest of Season 15. It was like rereading the fanfic my stupid 13 y.o. self wrote after like half a season and no skill or whatever. Full OOC, everyone. Learn what not to do. 

I am so happy I didn’t watch ep 18 and 19 in one night. Could you imagine? That would be like getting kicked in the balls after a pretty good blowjob or something. Idk, but I can imagine.

It was lazy, it was just connecting two dots in the shortest way possible, although, leaving dozens of gaps! How, in the name of God, did they manage it?

Why Chuck could bring Lucifer back, but Jack didn’t pull Cas out of the empty before evaporating? 

Why Sam has no fucks to give about Eileen?

How did Michael miss the whole thing of Jack gaining powers, don’t angels, like, have a nose for such things?

What battle is he talking about? It’s was a single stab!

It’s all just so easy, so short sighted. God is bad, let’s defeat God. Lucifer is bad, too, let him do bad, again. Michael is petty, and with Adam gone he’s back to his tropes being daddy’s boy, let him not being appreciated one more time and lets kill him off, too. I mean, my speculations on this ep were stronger.

Let’s make our characters retell the villain what was happening off screen. Let’s put some direct call backs to the previous episode, but make it feel like a grain of sand in the eye. Let’s give Dean a miracle, just for Miracle to be yanked away from his hands a moment later (parallels to Cas, anyone?). 

Let’s pretend there’s no Eileen, there’s no Cas, let’s pretend they don’t matter! Let’s pretend “Just us” is a happy end. Let’s have two bros driving in sunset, because after all those years and all their losses, that’s the only thing that matters. “To everyone we’ve lost along the way”, my ass.  

(Totally following my call in here, though, I hate being right)

It was everything I’ve hated about the show back in 2013 when I left. And it was everything this show is not now, which I am so thankful for, and why I am back.

All those sloppy plot decisions, episodes with no logic, awkward and ridiculous montage, “only bro” dynamics, bending and totally ignoring the rules of the universe. The episodes with Lucifer, too, for crying out loud. 

Forced happiness, fake smiles, a lingering touch, close up at the beer bottles. It’s just them, the Winchesters, and the whole world can go fuck itself, as long as they get to drive their Impala to the end of the world and back.

This is something Chuck would love to be their ending. You see what I’m doing here? This episode - it’s Chuck’s book, it’s the bad ending Becky’s been talking about: all action and no Cas. In other words, not good. 

So, what’s good about it then?

In this episode we hear “the old Supernatural” talking through the words of Chuck and “the new Supernatural” answering, with Dean’s and Sam’s help:

Chuck: “What did you do?”

Dean: “We won.”

Chuck: “So this is how it ends?”

We won. The Author (TM) is defeated.

Chuck: “For the fist time I have no idea what happens next. Is this where you kill me? Dying of hand of Sam and Dean Winchesters. It’s kinda glorious?”

Chuck - the old Supernatural - wants the story to end this way. With killing God, with this bittersweet aftertaste, because Cas says all those beautiful words, but Dean still feeds off his anger and kills. Typical Chuck, right?

But, no! Not this time!

Dean: “See, that’s not who I am. That’s not who we are.”

Chuck: “What kind of ending is this?”

Sam: “His power. You sure it won’t come back?”

Jack: “It’s not his power anymore.”

It’s not their call! Writers tried to control the narrative so hard, but just kept circling around, killing one of the brothers just to bring him back. This time, there’s another ending. 

Dean: “It’s the ending where you grow old. You get sick. And you just die”

Sam: “And no one cares. And no one remembers you. You’re just forgotten.”

Because that, my people, is the destiny of Supernatural if it ends this way. It’s the ending of “Supernatural” by Chuck Shurley. If it is the story of two brothers hunting evil for fifteen years and finding themselves back in the place they begun in, what’s the point? Yes, we love the characters, but the story is empty.

Everyone is going to forget about it before the final credits end. And the writers are well aware of it. 

Quoting myself, If we keep taking the same route - we end up in the same place. How many seasons ended with Winchesters together, just the two of them? You’ll find one, that’s for sure. There’s no novelty in that ending. 

(And Bobo didn’t provoke The Ultimate Shitstorm of 11/5/2020 for nothing!)

The episode 20 will be something Supernatural will be well remembered by. It will be a game changer! 

I’ve written here about the change of the philosophy of the show (point 6). I’ll be a bit of a Chuck myself and put my own quote here once again:

The message the show wants to give the world has changed. From “it’s all about the journey, about saving people, killing things, no one ever gets what they deserve”, the philosophy has changed drastically toward the “good things do happen, you deserve to be saved, to be loved”.

And this, my people, is what we are getting in the next episode. Because Chuck’s story was about killing your brother, killing your son, one apocalypse after another, Lucifer, Michael, all that shit. 

But Dean’s and Sam’s is not. And in their book, there’s Cas, there’s Eileen, and everyone they didn’t lost along the way.

So, brothers driving in sunset? Not the end, but the beginning of their own story.

“Supernatural” indeed ended tonight. But our story didn’t.

[scoobydoodean]

I too was once a believer in option 1 (which is also why I added it sneakily to the uquiz as a memory revision option)—because certain people will say this so much that then you also will start to go, "Yeah! Right! That's what happened!" So when I did my Sam rewatch way back in the day where I was trying (and very much succeeding) to understand Sam better, I got to that point, and it was the first time in my rewatch where Sam was worse than I remembered him being I was screaming at the TV (and it got worse and worse and worse and I was wrestling and struggling and fighting to make it work—to understand it).

The thing is, these are Jeremy Carver's crimes, not Sam's. What always strikes me is the determined and enraged look on Sam's face when he sees this happen—it isn't the look of a man who is going to just ignore a kid's disappearance and not even call anyone else to ask them to deal with it... which was very much in character for him. There was someone recently who reblogged something from me about this, and they disagreed with me saying it's ooc and said that abandoning everyone is on theme for Sam and is something he does... but I just... don't see that up to this point in the story? We find him in season 1 having left the family, and one of Sam and Dean's clashes is "how could someone know what's out there in the dark and not be driven to do something about it?" and they both have understandable points of view in regards to that (and I am not a believer in the idea that knowledge means having to take up the hunt, and I don't think Dean is in general either actually) but Sam had never displayed—ever—this level of apathy over the lives of others, and I don't know what people would be calling upon to suggest otherwise—that not lifting a hand to make so much as a phone call to Garth before ditching the phones was just a normal Sam thing to do.

In fact, much of the Kripke and Gamble eras are framed around how Sam, deep down, is very much a hunter at heart... it's just that he is afraid of that part of himself and doesn't want to acknowledge it starting out in the series and at key points he comes back to those fears. The Kripke thesis is that Sam's normal life, while also an innate and understandable desire, is also partially a front/cover/mask because he's afraid of who he is deep down inside... give Sam a life and normal clothes and a 9-5 and he will smash his computer and start hunting ghosts. Give him some normal kid's family dinner and he ends up telling the honor-roll kid he swapped bodies with that he wishes he had his life then turns around and tells Dean that kid's life sucks ass and he would never want that. Sometimes Sam doesn't want to love hunting because he's afraid of what that means but he does—he loves it. He isn't motivated to hunt for the exact same reasons that Dean is but he is motivated to do it. Even without a soul, his body and brain acted out what his true primal instinct is—it's just that the compassion in his soul tempers that and his experiences temper that and give him extreme restraint and send him off in other directions at times because he is a living breathing human being who has clashing ideas and thoughts and views of himself and desires... but deep down... Sam will always be a hunter.

So yeah—I will continue to say that Carver was a Sam misunderstander for this and reduced Sam back to something he never really was to create abandonment issues drama for Dean and that it is reductive and out of character and incorrect.