#in which dean keeps the mark of cain

[daddysboydean]

dean is super possessive of sam, but it’s like this: dean doesn’t care if sam fucks women sometimes. dean does too. sometimes you just want a taste, you know? but what dean will not allow is sam to fuck another dude. girls are one thing, it’s not cheating if sam is banging someone working with different material than dean. but guys? guys hit too close to home. sam can only have one cock, and that’s deans. cas, though…

s: what about cas?

d: what about cas?

s: we fuck him!

d: cas doesn’t count! obviously!��

s: why not? he’s a guy. he’s got a dick that isn’t yours.

d: he’s family, sam!

s: do you even hear yourself? 

d: c’mon, dude. you know what i meant.

s: yeah, i do, and it’s incredibly fucked up. 

d: yeah, well, fucked up ain’t anything new for us, is it? 

[fallenangelblade]

ohhhh. last half of season 10 makes me want to throttle someone

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 2 - Sick and Full of Pride

Mini-Series Masterlist

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader (platonic), angst, fluff, mutual pining, smut, Dean's got the Mark of Cain, uh oh.

Summary/Warnings: You, Dean, and a sleeping Sam drive back to the bunker. Usual Warnings, plus light smut.

Author's Note: Dean driving does Things to me have a whole chapter with it.

Title from Drive by Halsey

Word Count: 5k

Read on A03!

Chapter 1 - Chapter 3

You’ve been in the car for almost eleven hours. The drive home was supposed to be eight, Dean is by no means going slow, and—as he’s told you many, many times—he doesn’t get lost, so you’re starting to suspect that you won’t be home any time soon.

As such, you’re now trying to find a reason to very casually and inconspicuously bring up that, if you’re looking at another three hours in the Impala, you’d appreciate it if you and Dean could make the team effort to kick Sam into the back so you can move to shotgun. You rarely get the opportunity—it arises exclusively when Sam wants to sprawl across the larger bench, you made Dean pie to get on his good side, or Dean and Sam are fighting, so Sam loses shotgun privileges—so you plan to take full advantage of this one.

Dean beats you to it. He’s been drumming on the wheel for about an hour in a beat you can’t find any real pattern to, he keeps shifting in his seat, and when he meets your eyes in the rearview mirror, there’s something that’s not quite stress—but close to it—on his face.

“Do you, uh, you wanna come up here?”

You blink, leaning forward between the seats to whisper in his ear. Don’t want to wake up Sam, and, really, any excuse to whisper with Dean is one you’ll take. “Yeah, but,” you glance at the sleeping lump of Sam. “What about Goliath?”

Dean shrugs. “He can sleep in the back. He’s lanky,” Dean says your name, shooting you a small grin, and you almost fall forward. “And I want you up here.”

“Oh.” You flush, but force yourself not to read into it. Sam’s asleep. Asleep people are worse company than awake people. “Okay.”

“You’ll talk to me, right? Up here?”

He sounds a little nervous, and your words fall out in a rush of reassurance. “Of course I’ll talk to you. I lo-” You catch yourself, and focus your attention on a dial on the dashboard as you continue. “I like talking to you. I’ll always talk to you.”

“So yeah?” Dean’s voice is casual, but he’s not looking at you anymore. He’s staring at the road—which he probably should’ve been doing the whole time—and his grip has become white-knuckled and tight on the wheel. “You’ll come up here?”

“If you can get Sam out, sure-“

Dean pulls off the side of the road, pushing his door open, and stomping around the hood of Baby. You’re a little dumbstruck, not entirely sure what’s happening, and a small rap of Dean’s knuckles on the window pull you back to your senses.

You push your door open, frowning up at him. “What-“

“Let’s go.” Dean’s hand moves to your arm, but he flinches back almost immediately, like you’ve burned him. Even in just the streetlights, you could swear he’s blushing. “C’mon, Sweetheart, need some backup.”

Once you’re out of the car, rubbing your arms and watching Dean and Sam exchange low words—Dean’s sounding urgent and Sam’s just sounding a little irritated—you try to look up and down the street for some clue of where you are. It’s mostly bushes, yellowing grass, and telephone poles—so literally anywhere in the Midwest—and this old dirt road isn’t really that different from any other dirt road, but it still feels familiar. Like you’ve been on it before. And the track marks on the upcoming path look suspiciously similar to the track marks behind Baby-

Sam stands up and shuffles to the backseat with a few grumbling sounds, and Dean holds the door open for you.

“M’lady.” He makes a wide, sweeping gesture to the seat, and you give him an amused, dry look as you walk up to his side, trying not to get high on how incredibly real his boyish, proud smile looks.

“You’re very cheesy sometimes, you know.”

“Yep.” He doesn’t seem bothered, and his eyes never leave yours as you climb into the seat. “Part of my charm.”

There isn’t a good answer for you to offer him that isn’t God, it really is, so you just make a half-hearted shrug and sink into yourself, letting Dean close the door and return to the wheel.

The first few minutes are silent, and the longer you look at the passing fields, the more you feel like you’ve seen them before.

“Hey, Dean?”

He hums, and you turn your head to see his gaze flicking between you and the road.

“Do you know how much longer we have left? Before we’re home?”

“Few hours.” He shrugs, and it’s a loose movement, which is a good sign. “Traffic’s a bitch.”

You glance out the windshield to the completely empty, dark street. “Traffic.”

“Yep.”

It’s not worth pushing him on. You’re fine here—you’re fine anywhere if you’re next to Dean—and Sam looks a little more comfortable, so if the drive ends up going until morning, you won’t care that much. You might become a little more worried about Dean, but you’ve gotten used to being worried about Dean. You’d rather the worry be about he might be losing his sense of direction, or developing short-term memory loss, because we’ve definitely taken this right before instead of he’s shattering glass and doesn’t seem to do anything but look sad and it’s going to make you cry.

“So, um,” you keep your eyes on the dial from before, because looking at Dean while you talk to him is never a good idea. “You’re still feeling okay?”

“I’m feeling great. Whatever hocus pocus shit Rowena did worked wonders, Sweetheart, I’m feeling amazing.”

You smile, and something that’s been tight around your heart for months loosens. “That’s really good, Dean. I know you didn’t want to try this, but-“

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?” You see another loose shrug in your periphery, and your smile grows. “I gotta listen to you and Sam more, sometimes your ideas can actually be good.”

That makes you look up at him—primarily to glare—and it’s immediately a mistake. The shadows and ripples from the streetlight, cutting over his lips and jaw and cheekbones in the night, are making him look somehow more attractive, and you think it’s because of the joy. Dean’s grinning between you and the road, and there are no burdens pushing his shoulders down or weighted over his handsome features, and his whole face looks happy.

“Um,” you swallow, unable to tear your gaze away from Dean. “What’s the betterlust feel like? What does it want?”

Dean pauses, and he clears his throat in a deep, rough sound that is incredibly unproductive for actually focusing on his words.

“Feels like the bloodlust, I guess. I don’t, uh, it’s like a hunger.” Dean runs one hand carefully over the wheel, glancing at you with darkened eyes you can’t read, but want to watch you forever. “But for really specific things. And if it doesn’t get those things, I get…” He trails off, shaking his head slightly. “I feel like shit.”

“Like a craving?”

“Exactly like a craving.” Dean shoots you a grin that’s all pleased teeth, and you couldn’t look away from him if you tried. “Kinda like when we’re on a stakeout and suddenly you want a burrito, and if we don’t get you a burrito you start to get all mean and whiny.”

“I do not get mean or whiny-“

Dean chuckles, shaking his head. “You get very mean and whiny. I ain’t gonna forget when you threatened to castrate Sam because he brought you a salad.”

“And I won’t forget that you backed me up, Winchester. You offered to get my knife.”

“Because you were being mean and whiny, and I’m not looking to ever get castrated.” He gives a fake, overdramatic shutter. “The loss of Dean Jr. would hit many people very hard.”

You flush, whacking his arm. “Asshole, I was not going to castrate you-“

“You would.” He shoots you a wink. “But don’t worry about it. I appeased the monster, and everything’s intact and functional down there.”

It takes effort to roll your eyes, because you know he’s not even taunting you on purpose. Dean has no way to know that you’d never castrate him—you probably weren’t going to castrate Sam either, the point was more to put the fear of God in him for thinking salad was an acceptable alternative to burrito—because the monster he was teasing you about lived in your abdomen and only roared for him. It reared it’s head at the deep, rolling sound of Dean’s voice, grew warm and sensitive at every brush of a big, rough hand on your skin, and was fed by any sliver or scrap of attention he threw you. The only way to truly appease the monster was to let it out of where you’d trapped and desperately ignored it, and the only way to let it out was for Dean to look at you, and not stop.

But you’d learned to deal with that. As long as the monster was tended to, kept in line and from falling out of your mouth with a shout of Dean! I love you! Please look at me, because I really, really love you! You’d be fine.

“Fine.” You sigh. “I’ll give you mean, but I have never been whiny in my life-“

He gives you a flat look of amusement. “You’re a little whiny right now, Sweetheart.”

There’s no way for you to win this argument, Dean’s backed you into a corner you’re more than happy to be in—it means he’s smirking at you, unbelievably pleased with himself, and he’s drumming on the wheel again—so you just roll your eyes.

“Shut up.”

“Uh huh.”

You flip him off, he lets out a loud laugh, causing Sam to stir in the back seat.

“Dean,” you hiss, your hand shooting up to cover his mouth. “Quiet-“

He scoffs, pulling your hand down. “Sam’ll be fine, he’s slept through more than me laughing. Don’t know where the hell his hunter instincts go when he knocks out, but nothing short of a hurricane is gonna wake him up now.”

“I know that, I’m just,” you glance at your hand, back in your laps as still buzzing where your palm had covered Dean’s lips. “He’s been really tired.”

Dean’s grin drops slightly, eyes flicking between you and the road. “What about you.”

“What about me?”

“Are you tired?”

You pause, trying to get a read on your own body. Your eyelids do feel heavy, and your body does have that strained feeling of exhaustion between your muscles and bones, but you’ve been more tired. And moments like this—just you and Dean, talking without any worries or sadness or pain—are so rare, you don’t want to miss any of it.

“I guess. But-“

“Get some sleep,” Dean says your name in a stern voice, his attention fixed back onto the road. “We’ll be home soon.”

You blink at him, and realize he’s taking the first left turn in almost three hours. “I’m fine, Dean-“

“You and Sam have been working overtime for me,” he grunts, shooting you a firm look that’s not angry, but firm. “You both deserve some rest. I’ll get you up when we’re back.”

You’re going to argue—to push back and try to explain that you can sleep later, you’re not really that tired and you’d choose talking to Dean over almost anything—but he turns up the music and that’s it. You’re not moving him on this, and if he thinks you need rest, he won’t talk to you until he deems you’ve rested.

It’s insufferable, and annoying, and so fucking impossible to fight with how he won’t stop looking at you with concern, until you sigh, curl into your seat, and pretend to close your eyes.

You’ve gotten good at faking sleep around Dean. At keeping your eyes just open enough to watch him like, admittedly, a creep, and savoring the moments where he’s just himself. He’s not trying to perform the big hero and protector and fighter role for you and Sam that he’s so good at—despite what he seems to think—because you and Sam are both, allegedly, asleep.

Well, Sam’s definitely asleep. But you’re drifting, toeing the careful line between the hazy fantasies that run through your head on loop and the reality of Dean, right next to you and so damn pretty.

He’s always so pretty, and right now he’s alive. He’s purely Dean—entirely himself, which is and always has been more than enough—and it makes his every movement electric. Every dart of his tongue over his lips—pink and full and probably soft and well fit on your own—makes you salivate, and that makes you wish he’d run a broad, thick finger over your mouth, wiping away the slight drool.

He’s drumming on the wheel again, and it turns into some sort of rhythmic lullaby, moving you higher and higher until everything is Dean.

It’s his strong, firm arms wrapping around you and flexing as he moves the wheel, and pinning your hands above your head with big, calloused hands you could swear keep brushing over your cheeks. It’s those lips that drive you insane pressing small, soft kisses all over your body before moving to your lips and turning desperate and rough. Dean’s tongue down your throat and his nose suddenly bumping against your clit.

He’s moved, down, down, down your body—you can feel marks that never really formed but are still sensitive and blissful from Dean’s presence—and suddenly you’re so needy you might die from it. You can still see Dean—the actual Dean, his eyes locked on the road in reality but focusing only on you in your head—and you can’t focus on anything else. His hands gripping the wheel are suddenly holding and kneading at your hips, but still deep inside you, pumping in and out in the same rhythm of the song.

It’s mostly fantasy now. You can smell the leather and whiskey and amber of Dean, your Dean—not your Dean, not your anything unless it’s here, in your half-dreams—and hear his humming, feel the heat radiating off his body. And it’s all feeding into each other, and now you’ll never come down. It will just keep being Dean’s hands on you—tossing you around like a ragdoll but touching your skin in a way that’s painfully careful—and body caging yours in. His full lips sucking and nipping at your neck and breasts and inner thighs, his tongue flicking at your nipples and clit and running over your teeth. Dean hold you down, up, under him or above him or against him, touching you however he wants because God, you’re not needy and desperate by any means but it would feel so good for him to use you. To be the cause of his post-sex swagger walk—as you and Sam have deemed it—or receive one of those cocky winks over breakfast. To hear him praise you, or praise him, or do anything he asks because he always does most anything for you.

Except this. This one thing—playing with you until you’re screaming his name and seeing stars—is the only thing Dean hasn’t done for you. Won’t do for you. You’ll never ask of it, you won’t be able to handle it when he says no aloud in a deep, gruff apology, and so you’ll just live here. In fantasy, where Dean’s attention is fixed on you and never strays. Because in this fake world, it’s only you and Dean, and you could like that forever.

And, right before sleep pulls you under, you could swear that Dean’s eyes on your are deep and blown-out with hunger, and realer than anything else in the world.

——————

Dean was starting to get the hang of this. It was surprisingly easy to do most of what the betterlust demanded, because they were things Dean already did all the damn time. Driving was an obvious one that he’d latched onto almost immediately—something in Dean’s brain had always felt a little easier to live with when he drove, and his hands never felt dirty when he was holding Baby’s wheel—and was easy to feed. Dean had to drive, because that’s how they got around. She and Sam knew him well enough to not try and ask and drive themselves, and it was part of Dean’s job to drive them between cases and the bunker, so satisfying the betterlust had pretty much been handed to him as a quick, easy fix.

But the trick seemed to be not feeding it too much. Taking just enough to satiate the betterlust into something that didn’t make him feel sick and hot, but keeping it from going overboard, because it was really fucking easy to go overboard. To get in the car and know that the drive could be short, but Sam had knocked himself out and She probably wouldn’t be far behind, so if Dean missed two or three turns or drove in an overly complex circle for two hours, nobody would stop him. They were only an hour from the bunker, nobody seemed to be upset by the additional time in Baby, and driving sent Dean’s head into some sort of humming, blissful joy he’d never felt in his damn life. It was like the quiet ease of driving had been duplicated, amplified, then shot right into his blood.

And two or three turns turned into nine or ten, and two hours became four. And She didn’t fall asleep, and the betterlust started to get hungry again. He couldn’t stop glancing in the rearview mirror at Her drop-dead gorgeous face that couldn’t be his, and wanting her. Wanting Her to say one word to him, or smile at him, or sit just a little closer so he could offer the betterlust something. Anything that wasn’t this starving, tortuous, ugly need for Her. Closer closer closer, never close enough and She needs to be closer so Dean doesn’t rip off his own skin from how it’s boiling or pull out his tongue because it’s starting to cave in with words he’s not allowed to say.

Dean didn’t trust himself to talk to Her, but the longer she was awake, within his reach, and invading his head with Her everything, the closer he felt going batshit insane. He had to keep himself in fucking check, and figure out what he could be allowed to do with this.

He could not be allowed to touch Her. Touching Her was dangerous. Touching Her made this high feel like he’d died in the best way possible. Touching Her was like all the simple easy of driving and the sweet taste of pie and humming strength of a good drum line in a song that pounded in Dean’s chest were rolled into one thing that was soft and warm and just real good. The betterlust fall entirely silent just when his hand brushed against Her’s, then became loud and feral when the contact was taken away. Touching Her was so good that it made everything else became pointless. Touching Her was the best, so Dean could not be allowed to touch Her because then he’d never stop.

And this wasn’t dangerous. It was just driving, and everyone knew Dean loved driving, and Dean felt like he could walk away from this. That, when they parked and She and Sam shuffled back inside, Dean was strong enough to ignore the hungry voice in his head and itch in his hands to just start driving again. Just like how he’d eat a cheeseburger, but he didn’t always need to eat a cheeseburger. He’d eat pie, and then walk away. Dean could control this. The betterlust was easy to feed, and better to feed—She’d really nailed it on the head with that—and nobody got hurt.

As long as Dean kept himself under control, nobody got hurt.

So Dean could talk to Her. Be near Her with the knowledge that, if he let his gaze linger on Her peaceful, sleeping face for too long, he’d be more of a goner than he already was and never be able to look away. It was safe to do in the car, where he could pull his attention away because of safety and immediately offer the betterlust some more driving the fill the loss of Her. Dean could keep driving, and look at Her in moderation, and nobody would have to freak out about certain people being in love with certain other people, or an annoying, third person who was a massive lump in Baby’s back seat getting a smug I told you so face.

Sam was wrong, though. There wouldn’t be anything to be smug about with Her and Dean, because Sam was wrong. As they neared the bunker—for real this time—it was just Dean, the rumble of the engine, and the music, Dean fell further into his head. Usually the music could drown his thoughts out, but the betterlust was so determined to have Her that he needed to grab it and shout that having Her wasn’t a fucking option. Dean could offer the betterlust whatever it wanted, except Her. He tried to reason with it—She’s too good, Dean isn’t close to good enough, and She doesn’t want him so he can’t lose her over something dumb like feelings—but it didn’t seem interested in Dean’s flawless, rational logic. The betterlust just wanted Her in every way possible, and Dean couldn’t get Her, and this might be worse than the bloodlust. This was unfixable, and Dean wanted it just as much as the betterlust, and his chest was going to cave in on itself and take his heart down into his stomach, pressing it to tiny pieces and pushing it out so everyone could see how little control Dean had over his own goddamn body.

He’d have to get through this. They were only ten minutes from the bunker, and he’d work out how to see Her in moderation, and She wouldn’t get uncomfortable from how much of a sick, twisted, perverted son of a bitch he was, and he’d have Her as he was allowed to and never lose Her. He’d do every other thing that fed the betterlust, and nobody had to get hurt. The whole point of this was to stop the hurt, so Dean would get a fucking grip and live with what She and Sam had worked so hard to get him.

Then She started moaning. Dean thought it was just a noise of discomfort at first—he even slowed down so he didn’t disturb Her—but then she did it again, and it was breathless and needy and he was going to die. He could feel his face turn red, feel how his jeans were suddenly painful to wear and all the blood in his body was focused and throbbing where Dean needed Her, and all his plans of keep Her close but still at a manageable distance went out the window. Her lips were parted as Her breathing became heavy, She was squirming slightly in the seat under the touch of whatever the hell was doing that to her in her dreams, and Dean might have be forced to jump out of the car if he wasn’t already pulling into the bunker.

There was a long moment—right after he turned off the engine—where the only sounds were Sam’s snoring and Her moaning, and Dean wondered if this was hell. If Rowena had actually just killed him in that kiddie pool, and he was being tortured with Her looking and sounding and being like something he wanted to eat but was just out of his reach, all while his little brother slept in the back seat.

Dean adjusted himself in his seat—hiding his boner from Her view and blocking Her from Sam’s—and cleared his throat as loud as he possibly could.

Her eyes blinked open—hazy and blown out from either sleep or Her dream—and even Her adorable, sleepy yawn made Dean twitch in his pants.

“Hey,” She rolled a little onto her side, pushing herself upright, and Her voice sounded airy and soft and Dean could not look Her in the eyes. “Are we home?”

Dean grunted, nodding, and he had to get out of here. If he didn’t, he’d either kiss Her or explode. “Just parked,” he muttered, clenching his fists on Baby’s wheel in a slow pattern that usually calmed him down, but right now was doing jack shit. “Gonna go get some food.”

She hummed, leaning forward into Dean’s periphery with an expression he recognized as Her Dean, please be okay one. She was trying to kill him.

“Are you-“

“I’m fine. Hungry.” That wasn’t a lie. Dean was starving, just for something that wasn’t exactly food. It was right at his side, and probably wet and bitter in a way that would be so fucking good, and moan and whimper like a song, would shiver at his touch and grind on his hands and face and cock and-

He had to get out of here.

“Got pie in the freezer,” Dean said, pushing Baby’s door open in the way that he always yelled at Sam about. Too rough and reckless, practically punching her open, and he didn’t have the time to chastise himself or apologize to his car, because he had to go. “Wake up Sam for me.”

“Dean-“

“I said I’m good.”

“I know, but can you, can you please just look at me-“

Dean’s head turned of its own will, and it was the biggest mistake of his life. Her face was still slightly flushed, and she looked so nervous and worried, and her eyes were scanning over his face the same way they did in his dreams. Where he’d be covered in blood, and She’d look him over with care that never seemed to waver with doubt, and guide him into the shower. Strip them both, pull Dean under clear, steaming water and kiss him as all the blood was washed away. He’d be allowed to roll Her nipples between his fingers, and shove his knee between her thighs, and kiss Her until she said his name-

“Dean-“

He had to shake his head, force the spell of Her out of his vision and head and blood, and grab the betterlust by the throat to stop it from grabbing Her face and pulling it to his. She wouldn’t want that, and She shouldn’t do things she didn’t want to do, and Dean couldn’t be near Her like this. He still couldn’t control himself, and all of this had been a mistake because he could hurt something bad and sit in the guilt and hatred but still have Her, but now he couldn’t have Her at all.

He wasn’t even sure what his excuse was, but within the next ten seconds he was half running out of the garage, into the bunker, and locking himself in his room like some sort of feral animal. A beast that had to lock itself away from the people he loved, because they didn’t deserve him and he couldn’t force them to do more for him, and couldn’t stand to ask for what he wanted and be denied.

But he could get control back. He could find the smaller things that the betterlust wanted and keep feeding them. Drive and eat and maybe watching some fucking TV. Listen to music until he went deaf and work on Baby and stay the hell away from Her. She was dangerous to him. Not Her herself—She was awesome and cool and hot and Dean wanted Her on his face or lap or under his body, which was the problem—but the way the betterlust seemed to tunnel vision onto Her. The way Dean would just look at Her and his whole body would start to ache and boil and twist until he was talking to Her. And the more he spoke to Her the more he needed to touch her, and a little more control would slip, and eventually he’d just be unable to leave her side.

The distance was going to hurt Dean more than Her anyway. He’d figure out how to control this and immediately seek Her out when he did—She probably wouldn’t even notice he was avoiding Her—but until then he had to stay away. He’d agreed to this for things to be easier, not for himself, but for Her and Sam.

Staying away from Her would be easier for everyone. No complicated, emotional, chick flick conversations. No rejection. No showing Her that he wasn’t the strong, immovable man she was friends with and being tossed out onto the curb. Dean didn’t ever want to lose Her, this would make Her walk away—She wouldn’t want him, because she’d seen every single part of him and nobody would want them all—so Dean had to keep himself under control.

And it would be fine. Dean had control now, and he could feed the betterlust with so many other things, so this would be easy.

End Note: Answer to the last note - I am incapable of writing a short and sweet chapter, I had to make the whole mini-series an extra chapter, send help.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

If you want to be tagged, just ask!

Taglist

@artemys-ackles @brtodd @panicking-outside-the-disco @megara0224 @underground-secret

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @spacecowgirl126 @globetrotter28 @aylacavebear @lovewolfspirit

[glorystark]

Empty eyes | Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean doesn't take Charlie's death too well and because of the Mark of Cain affecting him, he tells you things that will regret.

Warnings: moc!Dean Winchester, Dean being a dick, minor mentions of injury, swearing, ANGST, major character's death

Pairing: Dean Winchester × reader

Featuring: Sam Winchester

Word count: 2,3k

We watched in agony as Charlie's body, wrapped around a white sheet, burned in the flames. This should never have happened to her kind soul. She died so we could save Dean. I couldn't help but feel guilty; my heart ached because I lost a friend, again. I knew Sam felt the same. We both asked Charlie for help with the Book of the Damned, and we both lied to Dean about the book being destroyed. Now it was too late to make things right. Memories flashed through my eyes, making me tear up. I remembered when she helped us with the Dick situation, or when I taught her some hunter-kind-of-tricks. How happy she was and wouldn't stop thanking me. She didn't deserve this, anyone but her.

“Charlie,” Sam started, grabbing my and probably Dean's attention. “We are gonna miss you. You're the best.” He stopped when his voice cracked, and now I was sure he felt far worse than me because looking back, he suggested not telling Dean about the Book of the Damned not being destroyed, which I didn't agree with at first. But seeing Dean, my Dean, slowly fade away right in front of my eyes changed my opinion. Maybe it was selfish, me and Sam both were. But we couldn't let Dean become something he fears, a Monster. We couldn't lose another person, another family member, but we didn't realize who we were putting in danger on this path.

“We love you, Charlie, and I'm so sorry,” I said, blinking through tears.

“Shut up,” Dean said coldly, making Sam and me look at him. “You got her killed. You don't get to apologize.” He continued.

“Dean-“ Sam started, but Dean cut him off.

“You too, you two are the reason she is dead,” he said, not taking his eyes off the flames.

“We were trying to help you,” I said, still looking at him.

“I didn't need help,” he said bitterly. "I told you to leave it alone.”

“What were we supposed to do, just watch you die?” Sam asked, not letting me be the only one receiving the cold tone from his older brother.

“The mark isn't gonna kill me.”

“Maybe not, but when it's done with you, you won't be you anymore,” I stated. “Dean, you're all we got. So of course we were gonna fight for you because that's what we do,” I said softly.

“Yeah, she's right, we had a shot-“ Sam was cut off again by Dean.

“Yeah, you had a shot. Charlie is dead.” He finally turned his head to look at me and his brother, who was standing next to me. His dark emerald eyes bore into mine, and I couldn't recognize them. Never have I ever seen him look at me with those eyes. Because no matter how much crap we went through, he always made sure I was fine, and his eyes held nothing but sweetness and, on most occasions, worry. “Nice shot.”

“Are you even listening to me? You think I'm ever gonna forgive myself for that?!” I snapped, not being able to keep my voice down anymore. He is grieving, but so am I. If I could, I would trade places with her.

“You know what I think,” he started, still with the same voice tone. “I think it should be you up there and not her.”

I felt my heart break for the hundredth time today. I parted my lips, not taking my teary eyes off him, which clearly showed how hurt I was. Sam let out a small gasp and widened his eyes after he heard Dean's words, clearly not expecting his brother to go that far.

I knew he blamed me, probably even more than Sam. But knowing that he wanted me dead hurt more than any physical torture I've experienced.

Sam called his name, still shocked after what he heard, but his brother just walked away, breaking my heart more and more.

—————

It has been a week since I lost Charlie, since I lost my Dean. He has been searching for the Stynes ever since but has been having a bit of trouble finding their location. So meanwhile, he went on a few solo hunts. He hasn't said a word to me and to Sam, just a few like ‘buy some beers’ ‘did you find anything about the Stynes’.

He found another hunt for today and was packing his bag in his own room. We both haven't stepped in our shared room ever since the accident, which meant we weren't even sleeping on the same bed. I'm done with being ignored, so I knocked on his door and opened it without waiting for any response. He didn't even turn around, probably knowing it was me.

“Dean,” I called his name, not even knowing what I wanna talk about, but getting him to look at me was the first step. “Dean,” I called, this time louder, and when he still didn't turn around, I walked towards him and grabbed his arm. “Alright, I'm done. When will you finally stop ignoring me?!”

He looked at my hand, which was grabbing his arm, and slowly turned around, finally looking at my face. “I'm not ignoring you, I just don't want to talk to you or be near you,” he said bitterly, pulling his arm away and reaching for his door.

“Dean, you know you're not the only one who lost someone, okay? And believe me, I know it's my fault she's gone, and I'll never forgive myself for that. But, god, you're practically killing me. I miss you,” I said desperately, waiting for something in his eyes to change, waiting for him to embrace me in his strong arms, but... Nothing. His eyes didn't even hold hatred anymore, just emptiness.

“I don't know what you expect me to say, ‘I'm sorry you were so stupid’ ‘I'm sorry you got another person killed off’ ‘I'm sorry you're so fucking useless’ Huh?! Is that what you want me to say? You want me to feel sorry for you?!” he yelled, showing the anger and darkness in his eyes while he harshly slammed me to the wall, making me whimper slightly. His words cut deep into my skin, but I tried my best to ignore them, knowing this Dean wasn't really my Dean.

“I want you to understand, I want you to know that I'm sorry. I want you to tell me that we're gonna go through this like we always do,” I said softly, looking deeply into his eyes, trying to crack him.

He let out a dark chuckle and grasped my shoulders, lowering his head to be on the same height level with me. “You want me to tell you that we're gonna go through this? Well, baby, in that way, I'd be a big liar.”

“Dean, me and Sam, we are so close to saving you. Please, just don't let the mark control you,” I begged, feeling small under his touch.

“I don't want nor need you two saving me, and believe me, at this very moment, I'm trying to not let the mark control me, so don't provoke me,” he whispered against my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

"I thought you trusted me.”

“Well, that trust was destroyed when you got someone who was like a sister to me killed. Have you ever noticed how many innocent people died because you were being too stupid?” he said harshly.

"We all have made mistakes, Dean," I said, as I thought about the hunts where innocent people died, and I couldn't save them. I didn't want Dean to know how much his words were affecting me, but, god, I felt like a crumpled paper.

“Seems like that's the only thing you ever do,” he smirked, letting his eyes fall on the floor again before looking up at my eyes again. “Tell me, how does it feel knowing you don't mean anything to anybody and you're just a burden in our lives? How does it feel knowing nobody loves you?”

That's it. That was the punch line to make me break into tears.

“Y-you love me, you said that before.”

“You know I lie to get laid,” he said, smirking, proud of his response.

My heart was racing more and more, and I felt nauseous.

“Dean, please-“

“You're nothing, do you hear me? Nothing!” he grabbed my cheeks harshly. “Your existence doesn't matter. You.don't.matter.” he said, spitting the words out before letting me go. He took his bag and walked out of the room, not even glancing at me. I slid down the wall as I started sobbing silently.

Then I heard a buzz from my phone.

New message from Sammy:

“Y/N, Dean just said he found a hunt, probably three to four werewolves, and he told me to go with him. I was really surprised but didn't question him. I think he's getting better. I'll also talk to him on the road. Next time, he'll definitely ask you too, just like old times. Don't stay up and don't worry; we got this :) love you.”

He asked Sam to go, but not me. If he hadn't told me that he hated me a few minutes ago, I'd think he was worried. But if it was really 3 or 4 werewolves, there's nothing to be worried about. He just wants to stay away from me. He told me I was a burden to them; he'll probably throw me out of the bunker soon.

Dark thoughts ran through my mind, and suddenly a rush of anxiety ran through me. What if there were more than a few werewolves? What if they get hurt? What if Dean hates me even more?

I checked Sam's message again and saw that he sent me the address of where the werewolves' location is and where the hunt would probably take place. I quickly rushed to my room, grabbed my car keys, and went to drive to the location.

—————

I was hiding behind some of the trees in the forest, watching as each of the boys fought one werewolf, two already dead ones on the floor.

Everything seemed good so far; I mean, their guns were on the floor, but they were fighting each werewolf single handed and there was no need for me to make my presence known. The boys were winning as always. And that's when I realized they don't really need me in their life. I knew the words that came out of Dean's mouth tonight weren't really Dean's, my Dean. But he was somehow right; before I became the hunter I am today, I made many mistakes. Some were small, and some led to people getting hurt or even killed. I also put their lives in danger multiple times because I was being reckless. Finding the demons that killed my parents blinded my vision. I was ready to get back to the bunker when I saw both of the werewolves giving up until I noticed something.

A werewolf close to Sam's back, and it seemed like none of the brothers noticed him. I searched for my gun but remembered I forgot it in the backseat of my car. I cursed under my breath and did the only thing possible right now to save Sam. I couldn't let Dean lose another person, especially his brother, who I knew meant the world to him. I couldn't put him through something like that again when there's a chance to save the younger Winchester.

So I ran towards Sam, trying my best to not slip because of the woods on the floor. The Werewolf was close, and nobody noticed him. I'm not the only stupid one after all. The boys turned their heads to me for a slight second, surprised at my presence, but didn't stop fighting the other werewolves.

Until I pushed Sam away from the werewolf he was fighting onto the floor. He seemed confused at first, until he saw it. I assumed Dean did too but couldn't be too sure since he was behind me. I let out an agonizing scream when the werewolf grazed his claws into my stomach and the other one, which Sam was fighting before, grazed his claws into my back before my lifeless body fell on the floor. Dean didn't hesitate more seconds before getting his gun from the floor and shooting all the werewolves.

I was bleeding like a waterfall from my body and my mouth. But the good thing is-

I didn't feel any pain, or anything in that matter…

Dean Winchester’s Pov:

No no no.

This can't be happening.

It's all a nightmare, just another stupid nightmare.

I heard Sam's crying voice telling the love of my life, his best friend, to wake up, holding her torn apart body in his arms, asking her why she pushed him away. But there was no answer.

It's a nightmare happening in real life.

Her beautiful y/e/c are open but so empty, unrecognizable.

I stood over her body, not being able to move from my spot.

There is so much blood everywhere.

Her blood.

This is hell.

No, I’ve been to hell and it's worse than hell.

I started tearing up more and more, reality hitting me more every second.

I let out an angry scream and fell on my knees when I remembered my last words to her.

“You're nothing, do you hear me? Nothing! Your existence doesn't matter. You.don't.matter.”

She wasn't nothing, she was my everything.

She mattered, she was the reason I kept going, now she's gone and it's all my fault.

All my fault.

All of the words I said came back to me, making my chest hurt.

As I knelt beside her lifeless body, surrounded by the aftermath of our shattered world, I whisper into the silent abyss, "I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so sorry."

And deep down I felt the Mark laughing…

[chiisana-sukima]

What's your opinion on the take that Sam is always running away?

The short answer is I think spn's ethics are insane.

The longer answer is that if you did a rewatch and counted up all the times that Sam objectively "runs away" from a problem/his family/etc and all the times Dean "runs away" from the same, I'm not sure who would actually win. But I do think the narrative frames Sam as the one who runs, and that, over the long term, it treats "running away" as his cardinal sin.

For example, when Dean runs away from his mistakes in Road Trip, the narrative does frame that as immature and self-destructive, and punishes him with the Mark of Cain. But by s11, this is reframed briefly as a "we" problem in s11a (Sam: "if we don't change, right now, all of our crap is just gonna keep repeating itself") and then never held against Dean personally thereafter. Whereas Sam's equivalent attempt at running away--the s4 demon blood arc--continues to be held against him by the narrative until at least 13x21 (Cas: we let Lucifer out of the Cage.)

Even more interestingly, at least to me, with the exception of Stanford, the narrative also tends to treat Dean's episodes of running away from Sam as "abandoning" him, but Sam's episodes of running away from Dean as "betraying" Dean.

This is Dean abandoning Sam to his fate as Lucifer's vessel. The narrative punishment is extreme, but not only does Dean get a do over in the same episode and it never comes up again, but the quote is remembered by fandom primarily as a quote about how close they are. And I do think that's borne out by the narrative. If Dean abandons Sam, the world will literally end.

Meanwhile though:

When Sam screws up with Dean, he's betraying him. The problem isn't just that Sam is an addict or that he ran away from Dean's attempt to forcibly detox him for his own somewhat questionable "good", but that he did so with a demon whore. It's portrayed as a personal betrayal in a way that Dean abandoning Sam to Lucifer is not.

In some ways, Sam is even the more steadfast brother. He may physically leave Dean at times but he never stops believing in Dean's capacity for good. When it's his turn to lock Dean in the panic room because Dean gives up and runs to destruction at the hands of Michael, he doesn't do it. And in the Mark of Cain arc, he affirms that even if Dean kills him, he accepts it as necessary and still believes Dean is a good man.

Which brings me to spn's ethics and fandom's response.

If there's one single thing that spn is entirely, completely, one hundred percent consistent on, it's that tumblr is wrong. You can't just walk out; leaving is always wrong and will usually end the world. It's wrong if it's temporarily for the evening because you'd like to have Thanksgiving dinner and your family doesn't do that, or for four years because you want to go to college, or for forever because all your remaining loved ones have been killed before your eyes, or if it's only a partial withdrawal because you want better boundaries in the face of years of violence and autonomy violations. (To be clear, spn thinks the violence and autonomy violations are wrong too; it's just especially adamant that the only appropriate response is self-sacrifice.) The only reason Sam is finally allowed to temporarily leave in the finale is because he so obviously no longer wants to.

And all of this, to be completely blunt, is batshit fucking crazy. And I mean that in the clinical technical sense of the word. As a system of ethics it's an enormous mess, as a behavioral guide it's guaranteed to result in inappropriate assignment of blame and unnecessary suffering, and it's hard to interpret it all for me personally as anything but a response to trauma.

I do think that on an emotional level there's something wildly compelling about it though, and it's fiction, after all, so there's nothing wrong with it as a fantasy. The idea that if only you could prove your loyalty strongly enough your family would finally accept you, flaws and all, is an impossible wish many of us have spent a lot of our real lives trying to actualize. And seeing it happen on screen when it can't happen irl can be cathartic, much like revenge stories can be cathartic even though irl revenge is a terrible idea. The vibes are, in short, without flaw.

The thing that's hard for me though is remembering that everyone irl grows at their own speed. Not everyone is in a position to cleanly separate their emotional enjoyment of a plotline or theme from their intellectual calculus about whether or not it makes any fucking sense--especially when those plotlines or themes are about violence, betrayal, abandonment, and abuse. And it's hard for me to remember sometimes that huge swathes of meta aren't actually the result of [insert negative judgement here] but are just reflective of a different series of experiences than the ones I happen to have had.

Honestly I find it frustrating. I wish people would be better about separating out what the story is saying from what they think of that message themselves. I feel like the format of fandom meta is often kind of a disaster. It adopts an authoritative, academic tone, but is usually actually used to express personal feelings and wishes without acknowledging that it's doing that.

It's not that I think people should have to disclose their personal experiences to write meta--on the contrary, sometimes that's helpful but sometimes it just makes it worse. Rather, I wish people would get in the habit of using more "I" statements and acknowledging their subjectivity more overtly. Back in the days when dinos roamed the earth and I was an undergrad, I learned that the use of the third person passive voice in academic writing is a political choice. It grants the illusion of more authority and objectivity than actually exists. I wish fandom would take up my professor's call to abandon it to some extent and say "I feel hurt that Sam left Dean alone with John to go to college" rather than "Sam is always running away".

[manwiththemagic]

The writers of s11 were cowards. If IIIIIIIIIII was in charge I'd made Lucifer's weird obsession with Sam show up more. Like the writers have very obviously included it and yet when Lucifer is processing the same vessel as cas, and therefore pretending to be cas, he just fucks off and tortures Crowley with fucked up bdsm pet play.

Like the few times casifer and Sam interacted were GOLD. because Sam sees it as his best friend cas, and Lucifer (who keeps talking about Sam like they're toxic ex's) is pretending to be him!! Although not to well. Like his freaky smirk when sending Dean into the past and coming back to harass Sam? Dude lives off of sadistic pleasure.

The way he full on LAUGHS when Sam says he trusts him bc Sam thinks it's cas?? Like gold!?!? Don't know why the writers didn't do more with that.

Also why not do more with the 'lucifer sent Sam visions to get him down to hell'. Like Lucifer is Obsessed w/ sam because that body/vessel is "supposed to be" his. And yet after revealing himself he doesn't try and convince Sam anymore?

He's just given up? Like nah man I don't believe that. I feel like he woulda fucked with Sam more in cas' body. And like it woulda been a way better not-romance-romance plot then whatever the fuck Dean and Amara were..

Like that came outta no where... I mean I get it.. but ew?? We saw her grow up, and maybe id argue "well there were two versions of her!! One physical on earth, the other her actual form and memories as a celestial being!!" BUT NO. SHE CALLS CROWLEY UNCLE CROWLEY.

cause he like raised her for a day or wtv..

Idk s11 is better than s10. Like the episode from baby's prospective?? PEAK CINEMAAAA!! also not that I dislike s11, no I quite love it, I just wish the dean plots were more fleshed out, and that it was more "Dean and Sam vs the world!!" Then Dean vs Sam yk??

Like where's my dynamic duo??

That's part of why I didn't like s10. Like no I loved the IDEA of Mark of Cain dean, and demon dean was hilarious (although I HATE him) but it was just Dean vs Sam, Dean vs cas, Dean vs the world. And idk I liked the idea, cause this time it was sam doing everything to save Dean, but man I just didn't like the fighting..

Also s11 had a mention of TMNT, S10 did not so... points!!

S1 and 2 of spn were peak ofc, and s3 was good but not really memorable for me?? Idk I'll go back and rewatch once I finish the series (just finished s11)

S4 and 5 were also really good, we got Castiel who is peak, blood junkie Sam, which was one of my favorite plots!! And of course a lot more bobby. Rest in peace king!

And unlike some I loveeeed s6-7 like.. the soulless plot, and death? Dean dealing with soulless sam?? Chefs kiss I mean mwah. Then Sam tweaking because of hallucinations. NOT TO MENTION GODSTIEL?? loved him sm stg.

8-9-10 is where it kinda fell off. I mean idk the leviathans?? Weak. Hated them ngl. Idk if they were s7 but either way.. mid. I didn't like purgatory bc no way Sam would do that?? But I did like how it developed deans character..

I don't remember what happened in what season but I lovedddd kevin, hated metatron (but in the "it's because he's well done" kinda way), the tablets were aight, Mark of Cain was uh... something.. (I hate demon dean but he was peak..)

So like idk.. show is peak though, I'm just at that point in the hyperfixtion where it's like "BUT I COULD DO IT BETTER!!" ykwim?? NVM I'm sick with a fever, supernatural is all I have going for me man.

[charles-leclerc-official]

Formula 1 Drivers as Supernatural Episodes

I have selected 2 episodes from the CW's hit show Supernatural for each driver in the 2024 F1 season. Enjoy!

These are episodes I feel fits a driver's personality/vibe/style/history and are meant to be complimentary. This is very vibes based XD

Presented in team order <3 (also I guess spn spoilers warning)

Charles Leclerc: Lazarus Rising x The Man Who Would Be King

Charles and the angel Castiel have a lot in common. Charles is seen as this figure that is leading Ferrari currently and into the future and his first season in Ferrari was iconic (Lazarus Rising) Dare I say some of his drives have been as insane as pulling a man out of hell. However it's been a bumpy road and the burdens of one of the most iconic teams is enough to try the patience of any man (The Man Who Would Be King) There are a lot of faith and religious parallels to be made here. If there was one driver insane enough to try to single-handedly fix heaven (Ferrari) Charles is that driver. Also you could cast him as Cas and I don't think anyone would complain. I could go on about the Charles-Cas parallels but we do have to get to the rest of the grid, so he gets two stand-out Castiel episodes.

Carlos Sainz: Trial and Error x The Devil You Know

Carlos sometimes smashes through plans like a hammer, sometimes you need schemes other times you need to throw them out the window and start punching (The Devil You Know). He's also been through the Ferrari trials which is no small feat, often requiring a lot of pressure and sacrifice (Trial and Error). I also feel like he could wrestle a hellhound and come out winning.

Lewis Hamilton: Swan Song x First Born

I felt that one of the most iconic final battles in Supernatural of Swan Song was fitting to encapsulate Lewis' many hard fought WDCs. In addition to First Born, where Dean goes to take the mantle of the mark of Cain from a man who keeps bees in his retirement (Lewis taking WDC from Seb parallels) Both massive turning points in the show and iconic, like Lewis. A lot of small plot and emotional beats in these two that really touch on some career moments.

George Russell: Defending Your Life x Girls Girls Girls

If there was any driver on the grid who would enter into a legal battle against an ancient god and win it's George Russell (Defending Your Life). Additionally George is one of the few who could pull off witchcraft with ease while looking iconic doing so (Girls, Girls, Girls) I just think George and Rowena would get along and get up to some trouble with the book of the damned.

Max Verstappen: The Executioner’s Song x In The Beginning

The parallels of young talent coming in to take down the former bearer of the mark of Cain to Max's 2021 WDC are strong. It was hard, it was messy, and it was one hell of a fight (The Executioner’s Song). Then we have more emotional nuance (In The Beginning) a guy who just likes cars and is kind of old school about them too. These episodes are nuanced and plot centric and that felt fitting. The vibes are here you have to trust me on this.

Sergio Perez: Our Father Who Aren’t in Heaven x Criss Angel is a Douchebag

Do not underestimate Checo, much like you should not underestimate an arch angel that is related to you, and yet. The parallels between Adam, the third Winchester brother, and Checo are not lost, especially in meta context (Our Father, Who Aren’t in Heaven). Then of course Checo does have a flair and charm about him, he can pull a trick or two out of a car when people least expect (Criss Angel is a Douchebag).

Fernando Alonso: Good God Y’all x Weekend at Bobby’s

Fernando is chaos, he's here to cause unapologetic trouble, if he were to be a horseman of the apocalypse he'd be War and he'd have a hell of a time (Good God Y'all). Of course if there was one driver on the grid I know could figure out how to get his soul back from a demon after selling his soul in the first place Fernando would be that driver (Weekend at Bobby's) Naturally there are many Nando and Bobby parallels.

Lance Stroll: Scoobynatural x Hibbing 911

Of all the drivers on the grid at risk of getting sucked into a children’s cartoon I feel like Lance is at the top of the list (Scoobynatural). In addition I think he would be the chill hunter just casually explaining that ghosts are real to Scooby and the gang. Lance would also reluctantly become a vampire hunter if they invaded his small community (Hibbing 911) And he very much reminds me of both Donna and Jody in various ways.

Oscar Piastri: About a Boy x Jack in the Box

I feel like Oscar would be a good witch hunter, I also think if he was hit with a de-aging spell he'd be able to handle it and not panic and figure out how to get out of that situation, worry about the soul crushing curse later (About a Boy). And of course with the way his second season in F1 has been going it very much feels like Mclaren have been holding back a young driver from reaching his potential because they are afraid of his capabilities, you could say they have been putting a nephilim in a box designed to hold back his power (Jack in the Box). Also I cannot be the only one who sees the Jack and Oscar resemblance.

Lando Norris: Swap Meet x I Know What You Did Last Summer

Tell me Lando would not somehow end up practicing black magic accidentally on purpose and somehow survive (Swap Meet). That and I think he would also really like this episode in general. I feel like the duality between Ruby and Anna presented in I know What You Did Last Summer captures a very specific vibe about Lando, is he the demon trying to trick a guy into drinking his blood? Or is he the angel that decided to become human because he was done with heaven's shit? Depends on the day honestly.

Kevin Magnussen: Rock Never Dies x Survival of the Fittest

If there was any driver on the grid that would make crashing the Impala part of the plan to take down eldritch monsters it would be Kmag (Survival of the Fittest). Rock Never Dies just fits Kevin, iconic, villainous, Lucifer comes back a second time and is ready to cause chaos. The whole vibe of this episode is insane and it fits Kevin's particular brand of heart and unique driving. He's loud, you are not going to forget he's there, you should be afraid.

Nico Hulkenberg: Shut Up Dr Phil x My Heart Will Go On

Nico just has the look of a man who would time travel to get rid of a single Celine Dion song (My Heart Will Go On). He does have a lot in common with Balthazar, fun loving but powerful and can execute a plan, he might just end up adding his own flair to it. And I think Nico's spats with others are not frequent, but when they do happen they are memorable (Shut Up Dr Phil) Plus he reminds me of these old witches who have been married a few centuries and keep the chaos alive.

Ollie Bearman: The Girl with the Dungeon and Dragons Tattoo x Reading is Fundamental

Including Ollie in the Haas section since he's raced for them the most this year on the F1 grid. But his story starts as the young talent called at the last minute to solve a huge problem, driving a Ferrari in Jeddah with an hour of practice. I'd say that's similar to being suddenly asked to single-handedly go against some of the most dangerous monsters in the world with no training in monster fighting (The Girl with the Dungeon and Dragons Tattoo) but also being surprisingly good at it. Then we have another team needing young talent to step up and drive their car when things were down, you could say Ollie is in advanced placement in terms of being an F1 rookie now (Reading is Fundamental) I think the Ollie Kevin Tran comparisons are strong. Overall these two episodes of young talent needed at the last minute to save the day really sum up Ollie's 2024 F1 experience.

Yuki Tsunoda: The Gamblers x A Little Slice of Kevin

Sometimes luck is on Yuki's side, and often times it feels like it's not. But then again he's been fighting and sticking around longer than most other drivers in the face of more bad luck than one man should deal with, so perhaps he's won against an old roman god for a bit of luck, who's to say (The Gamblers). Then we get to the duality in A Little Slice of Kevin, young talent being used as a pawn in the larger scheme of Red Bull, more likely than you'd think. Is he escaping purgatory or being captured by demons? Probably both.

Daniel Ricciardo: Frontierland x Blood Brother

I know one thing about Danny, he would time travel back to the wild west to hunt down a rare monster no questions asked. He would bring his own cowboy hat as well (Frontierland). Danny also has that quality of guy who doesn't ask for much, so when he asks for a favor you gotta help. He also does have similar vibes to Benny, don't tell me he wouldn't make a great southern vampire (Blood Brother).

Liam Lawson: War of the Worlds x Bad Day at Black Rock

Similar to Yuki, Liam's luck is a tricky thing. He was in a will he won't he situation at Red Bull for so long. If he had a rabbit's foot he kept losing and picking up again I wouldn't be surprised (Bad Day at Black Rock). I think the episode really captures that kind of swinging pendulum of luck his junior career has seen. Then of course now he's been called to the seat he's caught up in a pretty intense battle at the end of the season, with a lot of demands being made on top of the constant turmoil within the team. Imagine Lucifer is telling you not to do a spell another powerful arch angel is commanding you to do, I feel like that about sums up how he's been thrown into F1 (War of the Worlds).

Alex Albon: Heart x It’s A Terrible Life

Alex was a rookie that went under the radar, at first, but something bigger was brewing in the background and then boom he was suddenly at the center of the driver market and was thrown into the spotlight. A feeling reflected in It's A Terrible Life. Alex is also the type of try to help someone against all odds, even when they seem impossible (Heart). Also I am not denying I am possibly calling him a werewolf fucker, here but tell me I'm wrong.

Logan Sargeant: Jump the Shark x Dog Dean Afternoon

Logan would do well being able to communicate with a dog and would adapt well to taking on dog-like traits to solve a case (Dog Dean Afternoon) I don't even think he'd question it. Forgotten, overlooked, massively unlucky I don't think there is a better Supernatural parallel for Logan than season 4 Adam (Jump the Shark). He was a great guy who got caught in the middle of something dangerous and paid the price.

Franco Colapinto: Red Sky at Morning x Sharp Teeth

Franco is one of the guys who I just think would be able to make it work for him if he were accidentally turned into a werewolf. He'd take a few months off, come back and be totally fine (Sharp Teeth). I cannot fully explain but Franco does give me Bella vibes, the mix of mischief and amusing self confidence perhaps, or maybe he just has the look of an international occult thief? (Red Sky at Morning) He'd be able to steal rare artifacts using his looks and charm I know that.

Valtteri Bottas: Party On Garth x Everybody Loves a Clown

Valtteri strikes me as the most like Garth. Fun, a little silly, but good at his job and scary when he needs to be (Party On Garth). His methods may seem a little out there but he gets the job done. How could I not include the introduction of the best mullet on Supernatural? I know Valtteri would love Ash and call him #mulletgoals (Everybody Loves a Clown). Another character who seems a little unserious out of the profession but Ash is brilliant and knows how to lock in.

Zhou Guanyu: Hunteri Heroici x Wayward Sisters

Zhou would 100% interrogate that cat and get information. He's probably an expert (Hunteri Heroici). I think his level headed mindset would also really help in a case where the world is literally going Loony toons. Zhou also has been through it, but is strong, and iconic in his unique way (Wayward Sisters). He's been fighting an uphill battle in that Sauber car, new hunter learning on the job has a similar experience, add a little dimension hopping in there for flavor.

Esteban Ocon: Beyond the Mat x Hollywood Babylon

Esteban is a sweetheart but do not be fooled, he absolutely would take down his childhood hero if he needed to (Beyond the Mat). I also think that he'd absolutely be one of those hunters looking for all the old Hollywood ghosts, he'd be an expert about which myths were real or fake and have that locked down over there (Hollywood Babylon).

Pierre Gasly: Monster Movie x Simon Said

I am not saying Pierre is a shapeshifter, but I am saying that if he was he'd be doing the over the top camp and theatrics seen in Monster Movie. Also he like Dean has a way of finding out how to have fun even when things are extremely stressful. If he did have mind control powers he'd use them for good or not use them at all, but that doesn't mean he doesn't know how to use them or that he's not strong (Simon Said).

That's the end! Thank you for reading. This was just something silly I have been working on. It's mostly vibes based but I had a lot of fun putting it together.

*Carry on Wayward Son + F1 theme mashup starts playing*

[autisticandroids]

free space: medium-sized destiel

so in my reclists for @spnficrecfest i haven't been including many fics that are very "big destiel."

this is partly because i've been trying to keep the kudos count lower (though obviously this hasn't been absolute), and also because i actively did not include any "post empty destiel fix it" type fics in the dabb era reclist because they're kind of a genre unto themselves. nor have i intentionally made space in other reclists for fics that have a particular destiel romance novel vibe. obviously there's some, but those tend to dominate reclists, and i wanted to highlight smaller fics.

so this is my "big destiel" reclist, except i still did not include anything that had >2k kudos, because those are generally speaking pretty well known already.

some of these fics are small and just have the big destiel vibes, but a lot of them are more in the 1k kudos range than the hundred kudos range, on account of being big, or medium-sized, destiel.

in order of word count:

ain't that the worst thing you ever heard? by everytuesday, 1k

a couple of takes on the confession scene. very special to me.

rot and grace by extemporaneous, 3k, violence warning

cas watches dean murder the world. corruption kink.

some dying star looks dull in the light by sp8ce, 4k

heaven angst with a happy ending, post-empty.

one step closer by rhinestoneangels, 4k

an empty rescue. i love the empty geography in this one.

i didn't feel it on the first day, and now i got it in the worst way by wintertree, 6k

meg pov on a post-widower arc destiel.

the doorway to a thousand churches by sonatine, 6k

cas and the deans from goodbye stranger.

if you try sometimes, well you just might find by jenthesweetie, 9k

cas pov on dean's wants.

godot ain't got nothing on me and my baby by ilovehowyouletmefall, 10k

post empty, cas became death. the only way dean could see him is by dying.

before and after breakfast by spocklee, 10k

a silly little case where cas and dean realize how they see each other.

solitudes by ilovehowyouletmefall, 21k

cas sees dean see cas die. a wonderful little melodrama. i actually really liked how it handled dean's alcoholism (not really as something to be solved but just as a... reality to be dealt with) and i'm OBSESSED with the director's commentary. if this had been published in 2021 instead of 2023, every heller would have read it three times over.

powerless in dreams by calicoyak, 24k

a post-empty fic. i really liked some of the cas stuff in this one.

between a rock and a hard place by amidsizefrog, 24k

dean's dick doesn't work. also cas is dead. maybe the two are related.

every single thing by thestoryinsideme, 37k

a charming and goofy season nine fic. dean is a shitty little man in a very canonical way that is also deeply sweet and adorable.

a light above descending by hedderstheowl, 38k

a mark of cain fic with chefkiss angel stuff. a recent favorite of mine. really put this author on the map for me.

with understanding by apokteino, 427k, chose not to warn and noncon warning

yeah it's with understanding. you've heard of it. go read it now chop chop.

and if your wondering which fics (that you've probably read) got the axe for having too many kudos: it was on labor, the bee movie fic, time has come today, and r/supernatural. that's my taste. if you were curious.

[ninii-winchester]

Revived (Final)

Pairing : Dean Winchester X Reader

Word count : 1.3k

Warnings : mentions of medical aid, potential spoilers s9, mark of cain mentioned, fluff(?)

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

Dean's hand shook as he carried Y/n inside the motel room. Sam quickly fetched the medical kit and rushed to her side. Laying her down on one of the beds, Dean carefully teared apart the hole which was caused by the blade stab, giving Sam more room to stitch her thigh.

After her wound was closed and bandaged Dean helped her with a glass of water, encouraging her to take small sips. After the small cuts on her face were cleaned too, the room fell into a uncomfortable silence. Dean's gaze was hard as he stared at her, now that the anxiety rush of her being in danger passed, he's furious. The demon's word came crashing back into him. For a minute he could've let it go, given demons lie all the time. But Crowley's appearance had nailed down the last bit of uncertainty he had.

Y/n had actually sold her soul.

Sam paced the room, unable to wrap his head around the events of last few hours. This was supposed to be a normal hunt, no different from any other one they've ever been on, never in his entire life he could've expected this outcome of a supposed hunt.

Y/n's heart was beating rapidly, she could feel it against her ribcage, as if it would jump out of her mouth any second. She knew what she had done and she knew she'd have to deal with the consequences of her actions but it never occurred to her, that it would come hit her sooner than she has expected. The look on both brothers face told her that neither of them were pleased with her decision. She decided its time she bites the bullet and get this over with.

"Say it." She whispered lowly. None of the boys spoke for a whole minute before Sam spoke,

"Why'd you do it?" He questioned, "Rowena said she can bring him back."

"She told me she couldn't do it. She lied because I told her to." She replied avoiding eye contact with either brother. "She said it's not a hex or curse so cannot undo it, Dean died because he hit his head."

"You told me not to do it and you go ahead and do the exact same thing!" Sam exclaimed while Dean continued to watch them silently. When she didn't reply Sam shook his head slumping down on a chair. She took a deep breath before answering,

"You two have been dancing this dance for so long. I knew Dean would be pissed if he found out you sold your soul. I just wanted him back, is it so wrong?" She said her voice getting louder.

"And you think I wouldn't be pissed if it were you?" Dean finally spoke.

"It doesn't matter. I did what I wanted to. You're not the boss of me." She replied crossing her arms across her chest.

"I.." Dean pinched the bridge of his nose before he spoke again, "this isn't about being anyone's boss, how could you be so stupid?" He snapped stepping closer to her bed. Sam felt the tension rising in the room so he quietly slipped out of the room.

"Call me stupid, reckless or careless. Truth is I am selfish." She yelled, tears welling up in her eyes. Dean recoiled a bit at that. "I am selfish, I don't want to live in world where there is no Dean Winchester. I would do it over and over again if it means that you survive." Her voice turned low as she looked away, her lip quivering as she tried to keep herself from crying her wits out.

Dean hadn't expected her to express herself so openly, he knew the two of them confessed to being in love with each other but he never guessed the intensity of her love for him. He took a cautious step towards her and sat beside her on the bed.

"Hey, look at me." Dean spoke as softly as he could. "I understand your feelings but sacrificing your life for me isn't what I want from anyone, not you, not Sammy or anyone else." He cupped her cheek in his hand.

"Dean, I got fifteen years before the sacrifice comes into play. And I'm a hunter, who's to say I was going to live a long life. I'm happy to give my life as long as I get to spend it with you, or whatever's left of it."

"Hell ain't no field trip, sweetheart. I don't want you to go through all that pain."

"We'll think about it when we get there. One day at a time?"

Dean sighed knowing there's no way out it. He would never be able to convince her to undo it. For him, fifteen years is too less to spend with her, but it's enough for him to get here out this mess. And he swore on everything he loves, he will get her out of this mess.

Dean has never considered himself lucky, if anything he's always thought that fate was out there to get him. To fuck him up in more ways than one, but this time, he felt the cards were stacked in his favour.

Dean and Crowley went to see Cain, they decided to team up to take down Abbadon. Cain was nonchalant about the demons attacking them while Dean fought vigorously. Crowley dealt with some other demons and came to where Dean and Cain were.

"If you want I can give you the mark Dean," Cain spoke with urgency. "With the mark and the First Blade, you can take care of Abbadon."

Dean looked at Crowley, who seemed like he was ready to beg on his knees for him to do it. But Dean didn't want him to beg, his gaze turned demanding.

"Her soul." Was the only thing he said.

Cain looked back and forth between the Winchester and The king of Hell. Crowley rolled his eyes but brought up a piece of paper and burned it.

"Your girl's soul is her own now." Crowley spoke, not happy about giving it back but he had bigger problems at hand.

Cain raised a brow at Crowley's words and he added, "you're much more like me than I thought." He said remembering how he left all the Hell business behind for his Colette. Dean nodded towards Cain's mark and the man transferred the mark to Dean.

"Are you fucking insane?" Was the first thing Y/n yelled as soon as she saw the Mark on Dean's arm.

"Insanely in love with you, yes." He replied plopping on the chair, taking a swig of his beer.

"Not funny, Dean. What did you do!?" She exclaimed observing his arm.

"Wasn't trying to be funny, sweetheart. Crowley had your soul and he gave it back in exchange of me ganking that Abbadon bitch." Dean said nonchalantly and it angered her to no end.

"You're talking as if you just bought groceries Dean, what the hell is wrong with you? That Mark is evil, it'll turn you into a monster." Dean stood up from his chair and walked over to her.

"I have you to keep me grounded. And I'd rather be a monster than let you go to hell. This discussion is over." He pecked her lips before walking away.

That discussion was far from over but Dean made sure it was never brought up ever again. It was hard time for Y/n when Dean became a demon. It took Y/n and Sam a lot of blood, sweat and tears to bring him back but they did it.

“Can we please promise no more bargains with demons?” Y/n sighed into Dean’s chest as he held her tightly in his embrace.

“It’s a deal.” She looked at him with an incredulous look and he winked at her. She sighed dropping her forehead on his chest. He’s a cheeky bastard but he’s her cheeky bastard. And she wouldn’t trade him for the world.

Tags:

@galway-girlatwork

[daughterofcain-67]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕮𝖚𝖗𝖘𝖊 : 𝖕𝖙1

(MOC!Dean Winchester x Female Reader)

(Raised in Blood Masterlist)

(The Curse Masterlist)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: it had been several months since you left Sam and Dean behind in the bunker and Dean has had enough of the mark on his arm. Luckily for him, Dean has a brother who is willing to help him find a way to get rid of the Mark of Cain, but there are only so many leads and who’s to say that all methods out there are useful?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: spn level violence, gore which may be graphic for some audiences, an addition of characters that are not in the show

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is a sequel to the Raised in Blood series, masterlist is linked at the top. In order to understand some of the references to the reader’s past and her relationship with Dean it would be advisable to read the first story. Hope you all enjoy! ❤️

Previously…

“So, Y/N… Why don’t you stay with us for a while? Get some rest and get used to this new body of yours?” Sam asked.

“Sam…” Dean said in a solemn tone.

“Oh.. right. I’ll leave you two to uh.. I’ve gotta go umm… I’ve got a thing.” Sam said as he awkwardly left, and you gave Sam a little grin.

You looked up at Dean and he cautiously stepped closer to you.

“You aren’t staying.. are you?” Dean asked softly.

“You know that I can’t…”

“Y/N, those things I said.. None of that was all me. Being a demon changed almost everything about me. Honestly I don’t even think before I turned you and I even had a chance to really learn about each other.”

“Then how much of it really was you, Dean? Tell me? Was it the sleeping around with other girls? Was it the anger you felt when I was trying to look out for you? What was it?”

“That night in the hotel between us was real… the moments before the battle with Metatron were real when you were telling me about what the mark would do to me, those were real. When I thanked you for staying when Sam and I were split up, that was real.”

You shook your head. “It may have been real for a moment. But like you said, you and I didn’t have the time to really learn. All of this has been nothing but a scrambled mess and there was nothing solid for us.”

“If you go out there, it will be a lot more dangerous. You’re human now and there’s a lot more than just the First Blade that can kill you now.” Dean said, and you could detect the very same thing that he argued with you about - worry.

“Dean? I’ll be okay. I’ve had several centuries if not millennia of experience in combat. Plus I have this.” You said and you held out your arm. “You know it won’t let me die.”

Now

Dean felt like his arm was being engulfed in flames. For the past several months since you've been gone it had felt as if the mark on his arm had been enraged - as odd as that may even sound.

Although, he had been trying to keep his irritability intact, and trying even harder not to fall into that dark path again. He knew he couldn't afford to become a demon once again and he didn't want to become a monster that kills people without a second thought. Not after he'd been down that road once already.

Dean was sitting down at one of the several tables in the library drinking a glass of whisky neat while Sam claimed he was running off doing some errand with Castiel.

Dean wasn't exactly sure what the two of them planned on doing but whatever it was, he knew they were at least trying to help Dean finally get the mark off his arm. He couldn't take it anymore, not after what he did to those men that almost hurt Claire. It made Dean sick to even think about what they could've done. A part of him delighted in the thought of ripping them to shreds all over again but as soon as those dreadful memories started to come back, the more guilty Dean began to feel and the more desperate he became to be rid of the curse.

As he lifted the glass up to his lips he finally heard a door open, only to hear the sound of the most annoying, aggravating voice he'd ever heard.

"What makes you think I'll ever help you after you imprisoned me?! You and the angel are both crazy!"

"Metatron?" Dean grumbled under his breath but rather than going over to Sam to confront him, he just watched as his little brother took him down to the dungeon they had there in the bunker.

As Dean listened to the way that God-forsaken angel grumble and complain, Dean started to remember the last fight he had before he became a demon. He remembered the adrenaline coursing in his blood, the determination he had to gut the bastard until his insides were on the outside.

He remembered being so close to finally killing the bastard only for the blade Metatron had to go through his chest. And the very second that happened, everything began to change.

Before his mind could dwell too much on that transformation, he heard his phone buzz while it was on top of the table just for Sam's name to show up.

SW: You may wanna come in here if you want to help me find answers.

Dean had to admit, he was a little astonished that Sam even wanted Dean to help with the interrogation. Even then, Dean knew Sam wouldn't let him take things too far. All Dean could do was hope he wouldn't take things too far in the first place, but when it came to someone like Metatron, there were no promises to be made.

Dean got up from his chair, downed the last if the whiskey in the glass before he set it back down on the table and started making his way down to the dungeon.

Sure enough, Metatron was still babbling on about his bullshit on how he was guessing was a demon, wanting to know if he had finally snapped - which the answer to all of those questions were a simple 'yes' whether Dean wanted to admit it or not.

But when Dean finally made his appearance, he saw the baffled look on Metatron's face. The initial reaction was nearly worth all the Hell Dean had been through with this whole ordeal... almost.

"So... you found your way back to the land of the living... well isn't that a bitch." Metatron finally said as he looked over at Sam.

"How'd you manage to pull that off? Did you actually get your hands a little dirty for once instead of making Dean the black sheep of your little family?"

"You know what forget the mark and kill him now." Dean grumbled, not even wanting Metatron to be the one that helped him. There was no way he'd be that cooperative anyway.

"Oh man.. he must really be a mess. Who knew the mark was so toxic?" Metatron said before cutting himself off.

"Actually, maybe I did. But nobody likes a spoiler in a story." He continued and Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes as Sam started to talk.

"Yeah so how do we get it off?"

"What? No more social hour? Come on, I've just been out of prison where no one would talk to me. Maybe I have more to say than you think."

"Well we're not here for socializing so we're moving on to the next part of the agenda." Sam continued on.

"That part would be us asking the questions, you give us the answers, unless you'd rather do things the hard way where I beat the answers out of you." Dean glared.

"What makes you assume I won't help you right away? Don't tell me you're truly that easy to antagonize now. Are you really that irritable with all of this? Gosh that mark is probably going to own you sooner rather than later if you keep that up." Metatron continued then he looked up at Dean and gave him a knowing, sly and nearly malicious smile.

"Imagine how agonizing it must be without its other half."

Somehow Dean knew exactly what this angelic son of a bitch was referring to and with two mighty stomps and a large hand suddenly around Metatron's throat he spoke, "You leave her name or any implication of her out of your damned mouth before I carve out your tongue."

"You do that, and you'll never know how to get that mark off your arm."

"Then spit it out already. It's not like it's that much of a pleasure keeping you down here." Sam said.

"Speak for yourself Sammy. I'd love to let him rot." Dean said and removed his hand from the angel's throat.

"Okay than..." Metatron cleared his throat to the best of his ability.

"Well.. the first thing you need is going to be an old friend of yours. And that would be the one, and the only, First Blade."

Dean heard the two final words that came out of Metatron's mouth, and it was like the mark began to pulse on his arm just at the mention of the name. Dean's hand slowly formed a fist and he could practically feel the familiar touch of the blade's handle as if he truly had a grip on it, then he looked at Metatron.

"As I said before... isn't life a bitch?"

"Son of a bitch..." Dean muttered as he walked out of the dungeon.

Sam watched Dean turn on his heel and walk out before he glared at Metatron.

"That's all you can tell us? The only thing you can come up with?" Sam asked and Metatron gave an 'innocent' little shrug.

"It's all you're getting out of me for the time being."

Sam's jaw tightened before he got up from the table he'd been sitting on and he followed Dean out of the dungeon, slamming the door behind him.

"I thought you and Castiel said you had an idea of how to get the mark off. And you brought Metatron? Didn't you tell me Y/N told you something that could help? There's no way in the darkest part of Hell that she'd suggest this bullshit." Dean said.

"If you hadn't let her go then we would've been a Hell of a lot further in looking into her lead but as of right now there have been no leads on the Book of the Damned she was talking about. Metatron is the best we've got and even then his plan is a terrible idea." Sam retorted.

Dean went quiet for a moment, brows knitting together as the mark on his arm pulsed in anger yet again and felt like it was burning all over again at the thought of letting you just leave. He wanted so badly for you to stay but he knew you had your reasons. He just hated that it felt like he hadn't tried hard enough to make you stay.

Then there was the matter of the First Blade. He knew it was more than just a 'bad idea' for him to wield that weapon again. Especially when he killed several men practically the first chance he got when he was left alone.

"Don't tell me you're actually giving the Frist Blade a legitimate thought. You know it's horrible and you can't be trusted with it!"

"I'm not saying I have to use it or that I need to be in any kind of contact with it, but what if this is the shot we need to take? Yeah, Metatron can be a lying son of a bitch, but if we can't even find a single lead on the Book of the Damned then this might just be the next best thing we can come up with." Dean tried to explain while Sam ran a large hand through his hair.

"How can we know whether or not this will actually work? We don't even know what he wants us to do with the damned thing."

"So for now we just play it safe, alright? We obtain the blade, you don't tell me where it is, we learn the spells and that's that. We don't even know if I even need to touch it."

"Wait a minute wait a minute, what if this is really the mark trying to get you to get a hold of it again? How do you know it doesn't have a stronger hold again?" Sam asked, the skepticism evident in his tone.

"It's not the mark, and no I don't trust anything about this Sam but this is the best thing we can come up with right now."

"No it isn't." Sam said and Dean turned around for a moment.

"I'm not doing that and you know it."

"Why the Hell not? Maybe she's had more luck on finding the book than we have and we can get you safely out of this mess without the blade!"

"I'm not calling Y/N - that's final."

There were terrified screams all around you, tortured voices of men, women and children all crying out in agony. There was red everywhere as you walked around your surroundings. The boots you wore were sticky with blood as a result of each step you took. The metallic smell invaded your senses and yet you didn't have much of a reaction. You'd grown accustomed to the aroma of death all your life and this was just the beginning.

"M-Mama, I'm scared. Mama, please, w-wake up!" a little boy, not much older than you said with tears in his eyes as he gripped tightly onto the collar of his mother's dress.

You walked over to the boy and he must've seen your shadow. He slowly turned around and you could see the fear in his eyes.

"Y-You.. You're just a girl."

"Don't worry... you'll get to be with your Mama soon enough." You said and you pulled a knife from the pocket of your blood-soaked dress.

When the boy tried to run, your demonic speed allowed you to speed up and appear in front of him and you slashed his throat without giving him a second to blink. You could still feel his last breath brush your cheek as he tried to gasp for air before he fell to the ground.

You turned around and looked up as a demon with fiery red hair walked up to you. Her eyes black as onyx and lips as red as crimson tugged upward into a smile, a sickeningly prideful one at that.

"Well done, Y/N. You've passed this exam. Once you return home we'll begin the next steps in your training." Abaddon said.

Your mother stepped behind you and placed her hands on your shoulders before turning you around so you could see your reflection in one of the windows that somehow remained intact after all the chaos you'd spread.

The reflection showed a little girl who's eyes were glowing red yet there was no expression on the little girl's face. Her dress was once white and it had been stained in various shades of red. In her hand, there was a knife and on her arm, there was a cursed mark that the girl had been cursed to bare since birth, the same mark her father was cursed with by God himself. The blood was spattered on her face and yet it seemed to be another ordinary day for this girl without a soul.

"To this day, no one truly knows what really happened to the people who disappeared on Roanoke Island."

You blinked once or twice as the voice brought you out of your trance and you suddenly felt a wave of nausea hit you. The tour was over anyway so you rushed off to the nearest bathroom and locked yourself in one of the stalls.

Once your stomach contents were emptied, you slowly rose back up and wiped your lip with a Kleenex tissue from the packet you had stored in your pocket. You were glad you were at least prepared, but you hadn't anticipated something like this happening.

You were visiting the place where your first exam took place. Apparently, it was currently known as Dare County, off the North Carolina coast.

You weren't sure why you thought visiting such a morbid place was such a good idea for you. You hadn't expected the impact of the memories to hit you the way that it had. Then again, you were still trying to grow accustomed to human emotion now that you were no longer a demon thanks to the Winchesters.

You tossed the Kleenex into the bowl and flushed before exiting the stall to clean yourself up. The sickening feeling never left you though.

Now that you were visiting this place once more, you could almost hear all of the voices and the screams again. You could even remember that little boy's expression before he died.

Being human sucked, now that you know what guilt felt like. It didn't help that you were beginning to learn the emotional aspects of what trauma could do to a person. Abaddon truly was a monster for raising a child the way she did.

You were nearly glad Dean was the one that killed her. If it had been you, the result may have been more disastrous.

Once you had washed your hands and your mouth, you took some gum you had in your pocket and placed a piece in your mouth before tossing the trash away and you made your way outside.

"Hey there, you alright?"

A voice startled you, causing you to glance over. Upon seeing an ordinary looking man, you calmed down a little. He seemed to be in his late twenties, maybe early thirties but not likely.

He was tall, had short dark hair and deep brown eyes that seemed to be filled with some sort of concern. Although you thought he looked familiar... maybe he was a part of the tour you were just on.

"I'm fine, thank you." You finally answered and you saw a small grin appear on his face.

"Here, let me get you some water or something from one of the vending machines. You look kinda pale, maybe some hydration will help."

Your brow arched upward. You had to admit you were still trying to get used to the kindness some humans seemed to show. Nevertheless, you decided to take this stranger up on his offer. Anything was better than the current taste in your mouth despite the spearmint gum you were chewing.

"Sure. Thank you." You followed this man to a nearby vending machine and he grabbed a dollar bill, inserted it into the machine and once he selected a water bottle he grabbed it from the dispenser and handed it over to you.

"Thank you again.. umm...."

"Ab- uh... Abe."

"Frog in your throat there, Abe?" You asked with an arched brow and he simply smiled at you, broader than the smile from before. Then you saw something in his eyes.

His gaze seemed warm but they looked as if they held so many secrets from literal eons ago. He may have looked young physically, but there was definitely something about him that was ancient, seemingly as old as time.

"Take a walk with me. It's getting too crowded here." Even though this felt more like a demand rather than an invitation, you didn't quite feel threatened by this man. So you followed him outside so the two of you could take your stroll and you drank some of the water he'd bought for you.

"So, what brings you to this part of town? I don't think I've seen you around here." Abe asked.

"Oh, um... I'm taking a bit of a road trip and I have a bit of a n interest in history and this mystery has always fascinated me." You said, trying to come up with something on the spot wasn't always easy but you hoped he'd leave it at that.

Shockingly, all he did was hum before he started to speak again.

"There have been a lot of theories about what may have occurred in Roanoke. I think one of the more hilarious theories is the involvement of extraterrestrial beings." He spoke, holding up the conversation.

"You're not one to believe in aliens?"

"I didn't say that. I believe God has a creative, even imaginative mind. I'm sure He grew curious as to what other intelligent life He could make worship Him even if they aren't in His likeness. But no, I know His other creations haven't come to meddle in the matters of Earth back then."

Okay, this conversation was beginning to take a weird turn. Abe started to speak as if he knew the All Father and it was a little unsettling. Had you come across an angel? This couldn't be a safe situation considering you had been nothing but a demon up until this point.

"Look, I know you angels aren't fond of demons, especially since the Winchesters foiled the plans of the End Times, but I've done my best to keep out of your mess for centuries." You stated, prepared to get onto the defensive. Yet all Abe did was let out a chuckle.

"You know very little despite living for a long time, Y/N." Your eyes widened for a moment. You didn't recall ever giving Abe your name in response, so how did he know who you were?

"Who are you?" You asked warily.

Abe glanced down at you r arm and you watched as his gaze seemed to soften, "Someone who should be the one carrying your curse."

Your brows narrowed with confusion but the man looked at you again and he took a gentle hold of your hand before lifting your arm up to him as if to get a better look.

"May I?" His tone was shockingly soft and you had a feeling you might've known who this was, yet you didn't want to admit it for yourself. Instead, you just nodded and he let his fingers graze over the mark your family shared.

Your arm tensed and you nearly hissed in pain as the skin burned with sensitivity, "Relax, I'm not here to harm you."

You looked at Abe again and you slowly began to relax. As you continued to observe, Abe closed his eyes and you could tell his shoulders were tensing up a little and when he opened his eyes again, you could see the white glow in his eyes, the same as any other angel.

"A child should never have had to gone through what you did. A child like you should never have been brought into this world for such malicious intensions. Your father would never had stood for this, only because he knows what a curse this is to begin with. He would never want such a thing passed on to anyone with his blood." The glow in his eyes dissipated once more.

"I'll ask again, who are you?"

Abe let out a scoff before he lifted his hand, placing his palm on your forehead, then you began to see something you hadn't anticipated.

"Abel, what are you doing?" A man with black hair and pure blue eyes asked while he walked towards another man at the altar.

Abel was bowing down, muttering a prayer, ignoring his brother's question as he continued his form of worship.

"Abel, this is Blasphemy and you know it. You know God could kill you for this! Look at what He did to Mother and Father because of their disobedience!" Cain reached down and pulled Abel up from his worship and Abel glared at Cain.

"Must you interrupt everything I do, Brother? This is an important meeting! I can get us back into Eden!"

"Ahh, this must be the brother Cain you were speaking of, Dear Abel."

Cain's eyes widened as he heard the voice. It was the same voice his mother Eve had heard hen being tempted to eat the forbidden fruit. The same voice Adam and Eve both had warned their children to ignore.

"Abel this is madness. It was because of Lucifer that we they were cast out! The very reason why we never got to see the Garden and more than likely never will!" Cain tried to reason.

"Cain, I'm far from seeing the garden. I'm far from God's grace as it is. Let me do something to help the three of you go back to where you were always meant to be."

"Abel this is wrong. Turn back from this path. This is your very soul you're talking about! Are you really accepting that you could be cast down with the other angels that fell from Grace?"

"You brother is right, Abel. You will never get into Paradise; you're practically leaving all of your family behind. You'll belong to me for all of Eternity." Lucifer interjected.

Then an idea appeared in Cain's mind. He knew Abel was the favorite of the family. Most even believed Abel was God's favorite. He deserved to go into Paradise.

"Lucifer, let me offer myself in my brother's place. He's young and knows not the mistake he's making by even meeting with you at an alter built for God." Cain began and Abel shoved Cain's shoulder.

"What do you think you're doing? You're going to ruin everything!"

"Lucifer, please. He's a boy and doesn't deserve an eternal damnation. Take me in his place and find a way to get Abel into Heaven instead." Cain bargained.

There were a few moments of eerie silence before Lucifer spoke again.

"I'll accept this bargain. However there will need to be bloodshed." Lucifer finally spoke.

"You must be the one that send your brother into Heaven yourself."

Abel's stomach sank down to his feet at the words. What had he done? Maybe Cain was right? He should have never summoned Lucifer in the first place, and now not only would Abel have to die, but his own brother would have to kill him only to go to Hell for something Abel brought into this world.

"No, I can't be the one to do this." Cain said.

"If not, then an illness will kill him during the evening anyway and Abel will go to Hell despite your plea." Lucifer threatened.

Cain and Abel exchanged glances but Abel was the first to look away, "You don't have to do this. I've brought this upon myself."

"I have to. You deserve to be in Heaven with Mother and Father once they go. You had good intentions even if executed poorly." Cain spoke solemnly before the older brother looked at the reddened flames that personified Lucifer.

"I accept." Cain finally replied.

With that, the reddened flames parted to reveal the skull of a donkey, "Take the bones and manufacture a weapon of choice. This will be used to kill your brother."

Cain swallowed harshly before he walked to the alter and took the bones. He took the jaw bone then he got to work.

He took the jaw bone fragment and a rock to sharpen it the best that he could by grinding the rock against the bone, an attempt to sharpen it, hoping it would speed the process of Abel's death so he wouldn't feel so much pain. After that, Cain took the leather belt from around his waist and wrapped around the section of bone that would serve to be the handle.

Thus.. the First Blade had been created.

With a heavy heart, Cain stood up and he looked at his brother. Abel's jaw was clenched as he tried to put on a brave face.

"I'm sorry to do this, Brother.. but it's for your own good." Cain said and Abel held up a hand to pause Cain from speaking further.

"I've already said I've brought this upon myself. Though you should not be the one going to Hell for this." Abel continued and Cain gripped the handle of the new weapon.

"What's done is done, Abel. Once Mother and Father make it to Heaven.. let them know how much I'll miss them. They won't forgive me for what I'm about to do." Cain said and Abel gave Cain a saddened smile.

"Maybe not... But I do. And you'll need to learn to forgive yourself." Abel said and he walked over to Cain. He lifted his brother's hand that was holding the weapon and pulled it up to his chest.

"I'll explain my mistake once they arrive. Now please, if I'm not going to see the sun rise tomorrow, I'd rather it be by your hand." Abel insisted and Cain looked at his younger brother.

"Please.. close your eyes. I don't think I can do this if they're open." Cain insisted.

Then, with a nod, Abel's eyes closed and Cain plunged the weapon into Abel's chest. Abel let out a hiss in pain and gripped his brother's shoulder so tightly. Then he opened his eyes again to look at Cain one last time.

"I'm sorry to have forced your hand..." He admitted then he let out his final breath, dying in Cain's arms.

Cain gulped harshly as if holding back the emotions he was feeling before he laid Abel on the ground, knowing he would need to tend to the body later.

"Now... since that's finally finished. Now it is time for your end of the deal." Lucifer said and Cain had this unsettling feeling.

"A part of Abel's deal was that he would do something for me. This task is an important one to have and yes, it will come at a cost greater than killing just one person. You're much stronger than your brother, and you seem to be more of a soldier, a might soldier that I'll train you to become and you'll be the leader of a malicious army one day." Lucifer continued, though Cain hardly had the heart to listen to everything. He no longer had the choice to refuse whatever task Lucifer asked of him.

"There is a mark I will give you. Consider it a gift. It will make you stronger than you are now. And this gift will pass on to your direct offspring. They will inherit this gift and they will be stronger and your entire bloodline will last eons."

Whatever gift Lucifer was about to give Cain, he knew better than to know this would be anything good. And he knew he would never want this curse to pass on.

But before Cain could protest or voice his concerns, the reddened fire seemed to take on a life of its own and wrapped itself around one of his arms before one of the flames branded Cain's arm. Cain let out a cry in agony as the flames burned his skin, forming the very mark that would taint him and his actions for the rest of his life.

It was a tragic day as murder entered the world, just as the sin of disobedience had entered the world.

And Cain would forever be known as the Father of Murder from that point on.

As Abel let down his palm from your hand, you opened your eyes and you looked at him with shock.

The man in front of you.. He was your uncle. He was the reason why your father had the mark on his arm. The reason why you were stuck with it because Abaddon wanted to use you to kill Cain because he had killed the Knights of Hell.

"You.. If you hadn't made that deal-" You could feel the anger residing in you and the mark was beginning to ignite in you once again. Everything in you was feeling that human temptation to fall into your murderous ways.

"In your human state you would never be able to kill me. You don't have an angel blade, the First Blade, or any other weapon specializing in celestial slaughter. Think carefully." Abel warned you.

You closed your eyes and you turned away from Abel and pinched the bridge of your nose. You had to collect your thoughts. He was right, you couldn't kill him in this state, and even then you were trying not to fall back into those ways in the first place.

You owed that much to both Sam and Dean since they were the ones that gave you the chance to be human in the first place. After letting out a breath you didn't realize you were holding in the first place, you turned around to face Abel once more.

"What did you do? Come all this way to look for me or something? You didn't find me by coincidence." You told him.

"I know you're searching for a way to be rid the mark. You can't get rid of it. It's impossible. Otherwise Cain might've gotten rid of it a long time ago." Abel said to you and you shook your head.

"Cain didn't try hard enough. He didn't want to get rid of the mark badly enough. A third party has received the mark from Cain himself and he doesn't deserve such a curse, and I'm going to find a way to get him out of this mess because it's not his cross to bear. It's mine and Cain's."

Abel softened once more and he rubbed his temple. You could tell there was something formulating in his mind but he was hesitant to tell you.

"If you have something to say then spit it out. Otherwise I need to get back to work." After all, your day off from researching was pretty much shot and it'd been that way since you'd vomited before this encounter.

"You're looking into the Book of the Damned, yes?" Your eyes widened at his words, how did he know about that? And what did he know about the book?

"You need to be careful when you get your hands on this book. I don't know where it is but there are spells within that book that are more dangerous than you can imagine. You and your little friend should consider a different way to get that mark off his arm." He advised and you lifted a brow.

"What could be so dangerous about a few spells?"

"Y/N... There are things in this world that should never be discovered. Some things should remain hidden. The Book of the Damned, the First Blade, even Cain himself should've remained hidden."

"The book is only a few hundred years old. I'm older than that, you're ancient compared to it. When it was created there wasn't any world crushing disasters. It's been hidden this entire time and it's important that we find it because there might not be any other way to get the mark off him." You explained.

"Witchcraft can be just as deadly as some of the seals broken during the end times which your friends managed to stop somehow. There is a reason why witchcraft is a force to be reckoned with. If you do continue looking for this book, be aware that you will not be the only one looking for it. People would kill for it. Not all humans are kind and fragile. Some are monstrous and will sacrifice everything to get what they want."

You listened carefully and you wished that something this important would be just a little bit easier to handle. But you had made up your mind on this already. Even if you could get killed with this human form, you would be able to come back. But Dean deserved better than this curse, so you would do everything you could to spare him from this specific sort of Hell.

"Thank you for the words of caution, but he is a friend. He should not have meddled in things he didn't understand and I'll face the consequences for him." You said before you turned your heel and walked away.

Abel watched as you walked away before he shook his head before muttering under his breath.

"You're more like your father than you realize, child."

Tag List:

@roseblue373 @deans-spinster-witch @chriszgirl92 @johannelis2302nely @justtrying2getby-blog @alternativeprincess94 @doctorlexilouwhosblog @deangirl96 @nancymcl @hobby27 @muhahaha303 @k-slla @winchestergirl2

[castiellesbian]

what you said about amvs definitely makes sense and I have thought the same thing!! There's a certain kind of literacy required to "read" them. I have a lot of vids that I want to show to a friend when we finish our 3+ year watch but I feel like they aren't going to hit as hard because a more casual fan isn't going to have the same level of familiarity with the text. Like sure, they should be able to understand the overall emotional beats and obvious visual gags but they are going to miss a lot. Like they will see a three second shot of Dean and Cas in a car and be like "okay they're in a car together, that happens a lot in the series" whereas I will look at it and immediately clock "okay that's when Dean says Cas is like a brother to them" and understand why that particular choice is both a hilarious joke and an illuminating meta point when paired with that particular lyric. And I can't even blame them for not getting it, there's over 300 episodes, I'M the weirdo here.

EXACTLY EXACTLYYYYY. like I think specifically what made me think about this was in orla's video when it shows the shot of dean in playthings after the "overcompensating" comment and like i'm not sure if a casual fan would immediately pick up on that since it's just showing dean smiling kind of sadly, but weeee knowww. and that it's played with the line "making love to a counterfeit" because that's dean's whole deal!!! like we have talked a lot at least in this corner of the fandom about how dean wears this mask to show a caricature of himself out of survival skills, and also how on a meta level chuck/the writers keep forcing him to wear that mask even after 15 years because that persona is more palatable to television. so while dean on a plot level is stilted in this angry personality even after the mark of cain storyline ends, it makes sense when you read it as a resentment of how his own character is being written. and the song "movies" really helps to highlight that, but i'm not sure if a casual fan would see it that way! which, like you said, i'm not blaming them for, but for me it's like getting rewarded for being a little weirdo

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 4 - Hands Drawn Out

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Sam Winchester/Reader (platonic), tooth-rotting fluff, mutual pining, light angst, light smut, Dean's got the Mark of Cain, uh oh.

Summary/Warnings: Dean struggles to fight the betterlust, and you try and talk to him. Usual Warnings.

Author's Note: My prayers were not answered. 6 chapters.

Chapter Title from Love of Mine by Imagine Dragons (don't judge it's a great song)

Word Count: 6.4k

Read on A03!

Chapter 3 - Chapter 5

Dean broke his promise to Sam. He’d really tried not to—to use the laptop for TV, and TV only—but then he’d let his thoughts wander for half a second. Just one, long second, as he’d been replacing Baby’s tires for the third time that day. One moment where his motions were mechanical and mindless and dictated mostly by muscle memory—he’d never tried to, but Dean was pretty sure he could replace a tire in his sleep—and there was a lull in the Dr. Sexy episode, and the betterlust start to crawl into his hands and mouth, demanding more. More more more, this isn’t enough and he needed more.

The betterlust had asked for more, and Dean’s perverted, lovesick, traitorous brain had provided. Drowning Dean in thoughts of Her. Pretty and kind and caring, hands that would glide down his chest and over his scars without disgust, lips that would be pliable and soft under his, eyes that would be filled with the bright joy she seemed to only ever offer Dean, moans and whimpers in that musical voice, saying his name and staying with him through pain and maybe not running when he told Her he-

Dean eyes snapped open as he dragged himself out of the daydream, bile filling his throat. He didn’t know if it was from his own disgust, or from how the betterlust was suddenly howling and setting his skin on fire, but he knew he couldn’t keep this up. He can’t permit himself to think about Her, not for a second, not if he wanted to get this under control.

It’s why he bit his tongue and ignored the strain in his pants. He’s a grown ass man, he can control a boner. He can force all his thoughts to be tools and oil and maintenance, and not think about how adorably clueless She could be when he tries to explain this stuff to her. How Her eyes would grow wide, and she’d make a little pouting frown, but listen all the same. Asks questions Dean knows she never understands the answers to, but still asks because she’s awesome and likes Dean’s car and maybe if he asked Her to go for a drive with him she’d say yes, and Dean could put his hand on her thigh, pull over in a quiet spot, and kiss Her. Kiss her until she was squirming and she’d climb on top of him and bounce on his cock-

Fuck.

Not the car. He could focus on food. Food is great, and the betterlust usually seemed to cool it when Dean ate. He had a burger and beer and pie—all of which usually soothed the betterlust in his throat and spread warmth over his stomach—so Dean could just eat. He could take long bites and savor it—because the betterlust wanted to inhale the food and Dean’s stronger than that—and only think about how this is damn good pie. Cherry pie. Smells like Her, not that Dean’s smelled her, but sometimes she just walks past him and it’s not his fault he’s breathing. It’s a little his fault that he always imagines tangling a hand in Her hair, and tugging it back to expose her neck, and kissing and devouring Her skin and lips and pussy, burying himself somewhere she won’t smell like cherries, but might taste better than pie when she cums on his tongue and he-

Fuck.

TV. All Dean had left is TV. Not Dr. Sexy, that’s inviting thoughts he can’t be having right now, but a movie. The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, because Dean has that memorized so it would be easy to get through. He could watch it and think about how he’d make a great cowboy, no matter what Sam says. She’d said he’d be a good cowboy. She’d said he had the smile, and Dean hadn’t known what the hell that meant, but she’d said it with an open expression and tone like what she meant should be obvious, so Dean had accepted it. He had a cowboy smile, and She thought he’d make a good cowboy, so Dean could maybe use that cowboy smile on Her to tell her Hey, Sweetheart, if you ever need a hero I’d be happy to be yours. I got a lasso and a gun and I’ll defend you then tie you up and ride you-

That was awful. Dean wasn’t a hero—he’d tried to defend Her from himself and failed a million times in a million ways—and She’d never fall for something that cheesy. And she didn’t even want Dean like that. Want Dean to touch Her or have her in such a vulnerable position, tied up carefully under him with a lust-blown expression, whining his name and trusting him to take care of her and grinding onto his cock as he fucked Her-

That was it. He was rock hard, and losing his damn mind, and he had to take care of it once or he might actually fucking die. The betterlust was crowding his brain, and breathing suddenly felt impossible, and the answer was so easy. Just jerk off, once, and everything would be better.

So now he needs to break the promise to Sam, because Dean can’t keep thinking of Her or his whole body would say fuck it against his will and he’d run into the bunker and find Her. It was late, She’d be getting out of the shower, and Dean could wait outside Her room until she returned, and fall to his knees, and beg like a fucking animal for Her pity. For Her to put him down like some sort of dog, to offer him a cure that he had not right to ask for, to let Dean rip the towel off Her sexy body and let him nip and suck at Her breasts, and shove his fingers deep into Her wet pussy, then stuff her mouth with his cock and let her fix this-

This isn’t Her problem to fix. It’s entirely Dean’s. He’s done this to himself, after all, and—after months of putting Her and Sam through hell, months of blood and violence and anger—he deserves this cruel punishment. He won’t think of Her, either. He’ll have to chase relief an image on the screen, and not allow himself to think of Her.

He lasts a minute. The chick in the video is hot, but she doesn’t have a scar on the back of her neck, and Dean notices immediately. He’s imagined touching that scar, Her scar, so many times, wrapping his hand around it and running his thumb over the line, offering Her pure bliss with his mouth latched to Her’s and his tongue down her throat, and turning that scar into something She loved. Make it more than a reminder of a case gone wrong, make it about how She’d saved Dean’s life, and now he belonged to Her. He’d fuck up into Her until her eyes rolled back in Her head, and she’d be so warm and tight and wet around him, and her fingers would trail over his abdomen before he hit a deep spot inside her and it became all nails sunken into his skin. He’d use his hold on Her neck to keep her eyes on his as she came, and she’d smile at him when they were done-

Something snapped in Dean’s gut, his hips bucking up, and his release spreading over his hand. He’d failed again. His brain had wandered as he’d fucked his hand to the thought of Her, and he’d squeezed his own cock like a vice as he’d pretend it was Her pussy, and he was a fucking asshole.

He needs more pie. And beer. Maybe whiskey, actually. Whiskey will help him forget.

Dean waits until it’s almost midnight, when She’ll be asleep and they’ll both be safe. He sneaks out of the garage, into the kitchen, and flips on the lights without an issue. Now all that’s left to do is get the pie and whiskey. The whiskey’s already out on the counter, which is weird but not that weird—they’re all hunters, after all—and Sam must have just gotten more pie because everything smells like cherries. Cherries and shea butter. Everything smells like Her. Why does everything smell like Her-

“Dean?”

He whips around, freezing as She blinks at him in the doorway, her hair wet from her shower and her body still lined with white cream that hadn’t already in sunken into her skin. She’s so pretty, and looks so worried, and Dean wants to paint Her skin white like that, mark Her and kiss that small, pouting frown off Her face, give her a reason to take a second shower

“Are you okay? You,” Her voice is a whisper, and she takes a small step forward that makes blood pound in his ears. “You don’t look good-“

He doesn’t feel good. He can feel sweat on his brow, the grind of his teeth, the strain of his hands, in fists at his side. But She can’t worry about him, so he just has to lie, get Her to smile, and sprint back to the garage before he does something really stupid.

“‘m fine, Sweetheart.”

She looks him over, Her voice slightly unsteady with doubt. “But you’re really red-“

“So?” Dean’s voice is harsher than he wants it to be, but maybe then she’ll leave and he won’t have to suffer through walking away. “People get red.”

“I know, but I’m, I just, it’s okay if you’re not good-“

He won’t survive this if She doesn’t stop being so nice to him, looking so openly and softly concerned. “Well, I am.” He grunts, forcing a small, jerked shrug. “Just been a long day. Overexerted a little bit.”

“Overexerted-“

“Changing Baby’s tires.” Dean mutters, and something flashes in Her eyes. Something that makes her gaze dart down to his hands, makes Her swallow, and vanishes as she shakes her head.

“She isn’t due for a tire change.” She says, looking back to Dean with a tense expression. “You did that two weeks ago.”

Son of a Bitch, the betterlust loves that. That She knows when he’d last done a tire change, that she’s watching him with such attention, that she’s taken another step towards him and Dean could reach out and touch her if he tried-

He can’t try. He can’t even stay here. He needs to go, just go, just run and tell Sam to tell Her that he’d just really needed to piss or something. Like they were damn teenagers who’d broken up before prom-

“You can tell me.” She says, and Dean’s rooted in place once more from simply the sound of Her voice. “If something’s going on. If you need help.”

She could help. But Dean cannot, under any circumstances, let her.

“Like I said.” He mutters, forcing down the ache of the betterlust in his body for Her, ignoring the almost feral drive to close the space between them and kiss Her everywhere. “Long day. ‘m fine.”

“Dean, I-“

“Said I’m fine-“

“Dean, please-“

Dean snaps Her name, his voice rising to almost a shout. “I’m fucking fine, so drop it.”

His heart turns to lead at Her face. She didn’t flinch or wince, she’s not angry, or afraid, or nervous. She’s just sad. She looks so sad and dejected, like Dean had just told Her she was horrible and rotten, like a cloud had passed over Her body and absorbed all the light from her body.

She isn’t horrible or rotten, She’s amazing. Dean’s horrible and rotten, he’s the cloud, he’s the reason she’s staring at the corner of the counter and there barely seems to be life on her features.

The betterlust feels like poison. It’s white-hot and toxic in his blood, churning in his stomach and stabbing at his eyes. He can’t stand this. He can’t stand this pain and sickness, he can’t stand the silence as she just stands there, he can’t stand how she won’t even look at him but she also won’t leave. Why won’t She just leave, leave Dean to rot and wither away as the betterlust goes foul and kills him right here, in the kitchen, the moment she walks away-

“I,” Dean runs a hand over his face, closing his eyes until he can at least speak words that he’d chosen. “I’m fine, Sweetheart, just-“

“Been a long day.” She mumbles, still staring at the counter. “Okay.”

She doesn’t believe him. And she still looks so fucking sad, and the betterlust is starting to spread something feverish and heavy over Dean’s muscles and organs, and goddamnit he can’t do this. He can’t move or breathe or think until She’s not sad anymore, the whole point of agreeing to this was so She wouldn’t be sad, because Dean could never stand to see Her sad and worried and now that’s all she was, because of him. She was sad because of Dean, and he was going to die if she didn’t look at him-

“I,” She swallows, taking a small step back that makes the betterlust choke in Dean’s lungs. “I’m just gonna go to bed, then. I’ll see you…” She trails off, and now she looks devastated.

“Night,” he mutters, because he’s going to die, and She shouldn’t have to see that. “Sleep well.”

She makes a small sound of acknowledgment, turns to go, and Dean’s skin is going to fly off his body. She can’t walk away, She can’t keep being sad, and he can’t be selfish but She can’t walk away-

Her name falls out of Dean’s mouth in a shout, and when She turns to look at him, she’s looking at him. Really looking at him, with parted lips and nervous eyes, and all of Dean’s willpower becomes about staying tense and rigid and a healthy distance away from Her body.

Which means he can’t control his words.

“Sit with me.”

She stares at him for a second, something passing over Her face Dean can’t understand. “What?”

“In the garage.” He grunts. “I’m going back, just got hungry. You can sit with me.”

“It’s late-“ “You tired?”

She looks over him, Her voice still way too small. “No.”

Dean shrugs, and manages to very causally grab his beer like, if She says no, he’s not going to collapse. “Then come on, Sweetheart.” He winks, and doesn’t groan when Her eyes do that adorable widening thing. “I got Sam’s laptop, we can watch whatever you want long as I get veto power.”

It’s the longest moment of Dean’s life, when She doesn’t answer immediately. When she just keeps staring at him, slightly gaping, hugging her own body and not moving but not looking away and what if he’d fucked up too bad for Her to say yes, what if they’re not even friends anymore, what if Dean had just lost one of the only good things in his life because he didn’t have any self-control and she’d finally realized how he was poison and angry and evil-

"Okay.” She nods, smiles at Dean, and the betterlust morphs in only a second.

Where his lungs had been filled will lead there suddenly clear, the air fresher down his throat and every breath long and easy. Where his blood had felt like ice and sewage, it was warm and smooth through this body. His head feels light, and the world is blurred like he’s drunk, and everything smells like cherries and tastes like sweet pie crust. His heart is fluttering, but it feels damn good, and it’s almost as if it had expanded. Like Dean’s very life was bigger, no longer caving in and no long hollow.

It’s not going to be enough. Her arm brushes his as they walk down the hall, Dean’s every nerve lights up, and minutes later the feeling still hasn’t faded. Now there’s something buzzing under his skin, and it’s not going to stop being wired and electric until She touches him again.

But Dean’s not strong enough to leave Her now.

So he might just be fucked.

——————

You’ve been here all day. Your knees resting on Baby’s wheel as you lean slightly out the open door, keeping Dean company as he worked. He’d put you there—almost guiding you into the seat before flinching back like you’d burned him—handed you his toolbox, and explained what each individual tool did. You’d watched and listened with your best attention—it seemed to make him stand a little taller every time he’d ask a leading question and you’d gotten the answer right—but the boyish smile on his face and ease all over his body was distracting and you hadn’t really processed a word he’d said. But you make do. You’d placed the box in the passenger’s seat, and when Dean asked for something you’d hazard a guess that was usually correct, still getting a chuckle and grin from Dean when you messed up.

And that was the whole reason you were here. To make Dean happy. To be as close to him as he’d allow you to without crossing any sort of invisible line, to talk to him and laugh with him and pretend you couldn’t feel an axe over your head or weight on your shoulders that always told you he’s comfortable here, with you, because you’re his friend and nothing more.

Dean is at ease here because he doesn’t have to flash a special, well-chosen smile that tells you wouldn’t we be fun. He doesn’t have to scan you up and down with a teasing gaze that says you look good, but you’d look better under me, because he’s seen you all over and isn’t interested in your body when he’s seen the blood and guts and bone fall out of it, or stitched up the gashes to leave long scars. Dean doesn’t need to think about what he’s saying because you already know how he thinks, and chose a persona because you’ve seen all of them and you only really like him. He doesn’t need to pull a stunt for you to look at him, because he already has your undivided attention. He always does.

He’s comfortable and laughing because you’re like Sam. Not quite Sam—Dean doesn’t love you—but still someone he talks to easily. Someone he trusts to have his back, or hang over him as he slides under Baby, leaving him vulnerable, but not vulnerable to you. Someone who’s his partner, in every way but the one you dream of.

A way he doesn’t dream of. A way that he wouldn’t dream of, not with you, because he’s seen all of you and you’ve seen all of him and he’d never thought of more. He knows you too well, and it’s cursed you for him to never have any of that sexy, intriguing mystery that makes him smirk and use his deepest drawl and most heated promises. You’re just a cool chick who can annoy him and try to make him watch Pirates of the Caribbean, and he can wave you off and trade sparring easy jokes. Not more, because Dean likes you and your company, but doesn’t love you. And it’s the most painful ache to know that, and you keep staying anyway because almost all of him—save for that last piece, locked away and forbidden from only you—is better than none of him.

“I think you’d like it,” you say, trying not to stare at the slight bulge in Dean’s pants, perfectly in your line of sight. “I’ll bet on it.”

Dean slides out from under Baby, stretching out his hand for you to pass another tool. “There’s no way I’m taking that bet. Spanner.”

You nod, frowning at the box as you try to remember what a spanner is. “You don’t even know what we’re betting-“

“Doesn’t matter, the bet’s a trick.” When you glance back, Dean’s winking at you, and his drawl ignites something molten in your gut. “I’ve got your number, Sweetheart, and I’m not falling for it.”

“I don’t, um,” you gape at him, covered in grease and wearing a shirt that you can see his muscles through, stilling grinning at you like nothing’s ever been wrong in the world. “It’s not a trick-“

“I agree to it, I gotta watch the movie.” He makes a face of mock disgust. “And now I’ve lost no matter what.”

“But you’d like it! It’s got sword-fights, and um, boats. And tentacles! You love tentacles-“

Dean laughs, and it’s deep from his chest and joyful and consuming your every thought. “If tentacles is your leadin’ pitch, you really don’t got shit-“

“Please?” You pout, leaning a little out of the car to hold his gaze, and something flashes in Dean’s eyes that you hope means he’s considering it. “I really do think you’d have fun. It’s not a good movie, but it’s fun. We deserve fun.”

He’s scanning over your face like there’s something inside it he needs to grab. You can see his fingers curling under the car, and a slight tick of his jaw, and you don’t know why. You usually understand why Dean does things, but you don’t understand this, understand why he’s looking at you like a predator, but also like you’re hunting him.

“Spanners got the curve.”

You blink at him. “What-“

“Spanner wrench. Got a curve like,” Dean moves his hands into view, tracing a line through the air. “That.”

“I, yeah. Sorry.” You shake your head in a small, thought-clearing motion, and turn back to the toolbox. 

“’S okay.” His words are quiet, and you have to pause to hear him. “Last one. Then we’ll watch the stupid movie.”

It takes a second for the words to sink in, and once they do, you can’t stop smiling. You hadn’t crossed an invisible line, he wasn’t mad, and you weren’t about to get kicked out of the garage for him to actually focus. If he was still trying to avoid you—you never figured out why he was in the first place, but it didn’t really seem to matter anymore—he would’ve taken the opportunity and kicked you out. But he hadn’t. And now you get to stay with Dean a little longer, and he’s chosen to keep you there, and watch a movie.

You suggest the Dean Cave, as he pushes himself up to his feet and wipes his hands, and he agrees at first. Then you try to stand up and leave the garage, and his eyes widen.

“Where are you, uh,” Dean clears his throat, his words still falling out a little panicked. “Where are you going?”

“To get food? While you shower?”

“I don’t gotta shower. We can watch in here,” he jabs his thumb over his shoulder, to the still-open Impala doors. “Already got Sam’s computer and some beer.”

That look is back on his face as he looks between you and the Impala, and you can’t figure out if you should be worried by it. It’s mostly just worrying because you don’t know what it means, and you know almost all of Dean’s expressions. But you don’t really know anything about what’s going on. Dean’s covered in grease, but he doesn’t want to shower. He wants to sit in the car, on the fresh upholstery that he bitches about you and Sam drinking colored soda on. His whole body is strained, his legs planted wide like somethings going to try and move him, and he’s holding the wrench like it’s a weapon. It’s an expression you’ve seen on countless hunts, during countless fights that end in blood, but it doesn’t feel dangerous. No instinct—hunter or just natural self-preservation—is telling you run, and he doesn’t that glint in his eyes that accompanied the bloodlust.

There is something, but you don’t know what. It’s a little blown out and deep inside his pupils, almost hungry. But that doesn’t make sense, because you’d offered to get him food and he said no. Which is incredibly odd, adding to an infinite pile of what’s going on with Dean, really.

If you weren’t selfish, maybe you’d push him. Demand a really, straightforward answer to why he’d been avoiding you in the first place, why Sam was so adamant you stay away from him, why they’ve both been so suspicious when Dean really seems to be fine. He’s a little off, take long breathes at odd times and flexing his hands like they’re not fully under his control. He’s either not really meeting your eyes are staring at you like he thinks you’re going to vanish, won’t touch you for longer than a half-second, and he seems to be so easily content until he’s suddenly tense and wired. Until the room fills with heavy electricity as he does those long breaths, and he wins whatever war he’s waging with himself.

He’s not fighting down the bloodlust. You’ve watched Dean fight down the bloodlust for months, and it’s similar to this—something shining in his eyes that’s made of self-disgust, a solider-like defense stance, carrying himself as if he’s about to cave in—but it’s not the same. Dean didn’t really talk to anyone during the bloodlust, and when he did he’ used short words and a low voice, his tone furious and filled with loathing for even being able to speak. Whenever you and Sam would walk away, leaving him to wallow and brood, you’d glance back and see his body relax because he didn’t have to fight the Mark when there was nobody around. He never did anything boring or simple, because he was always staring at his hands like they might be suddenly stained in blood.

But he’s agreeing to watch the movie, and when you step back towards the car door, his whole body relaxes. You set the movie up—propping Sam’s laptop on the dashboard and settling into the passenger’s seat—and you can the rigid line of his shoulders and clench of his jaw as he grabs the beers, a tension that seems to evaporate as he slides behind the wheel.

And he won’t shut the fuck up. It starts with little comments and jokes about the movie—he keeps scooting closer to your side without ever actually touching you, and that alone makes it impossible to focus—but then it starts to stray.

“Think I’d be a good pirate?” He asks you, frowning at the laptop screen, and you tilt your head.

“I dunno, what qualities make someone a good pirate?”

He pauses, fidgeting with his empty bottle as he thinks. “Swashbuckling?”

You snort, and Dean’s lips twitch.

“Can you swashbuckler, Dean?”

“No,” he looks back to the movie with a shrug. “But I think I’d pick it up. Doesn’t seem that hard, just swinging around a big metal stick.”

Dean would pick it up. You don’t have any doubt that someone would hand Dean a sword, say swashbuckle, and he’d get it before the day was done. Because he’s amazing, and good at everything, and such an annoying asshole who can’t stop being a confusing combination of adorably endearing and impossibly hot. It’s a clear image in your head, Dean with a sword. There’s a boyish grin on his face, and he’s swinging it around like it’s a toy, and then someone challenges him to a duel. There’s a light of excitement in his eyes when he accepts it—he’d grin at you and say I just got challenged to a real duel, how fucking sweet is that—and then he focus and destroy his opponent in seconds. With careful, shockingly graceful moves, his muscles flexing and his eyes gleaming, and it would be so hot. He’d get all sweaty and focused and smug and God-

He says your name, and you gape at him slightly. “Huh?”

“Lost you for a second, Sweetheart,” he says, scanning over you with a frown, reaching out to touch you then coiling back like you’re covered in mud and grime. “Wanna tell me where you went?”

Dean is not allowed to know where you went. But you don’t want him to stop talking to you, or start sulking, or do anything that isn’t this—his attention all on you, his body close enough you can feel the heat of it, even if he’s not touching you, the movie suddenly nothing but background noise—so you hum, smile, and shuffle in your seat to fully face him.

“Do you think I’d make a good pirate?”

“Nah, your heart wouldn’t be in it.”

You pout at him. “Yes, it would-“

“You don’t like sleeping in the motels.” He says with pointed words, smirking at you. “Gets you on edge, having to share space. You’d hate bein’ in on a ship. No privacy.”

You flush, forcing your heart to slow down and your brain not to get stuck on how Dean’s noticed things about you, because you’re his best friend. Of course he knows things about you. Sam probably knows that too. “I wouldn’t need to share space if I was the captain.“

Dean huffs a laugh. “You could be captain, but that’s just cause you’re bossy.”

“Shut up, I am not bossy-“

“You’re real bossy, Sweetheart. It’s how you keep me and Sam in line. Now,” he wiggles his brows at you. “Imagine a whole ship of me’s and Sam’s.”

You wrinkle your nose. “I’d jump overboard.”

He laughs, full and loud and pushing a grin onto your face, and it goes on like this for hours. The movie turns off, the beers run out, and you’re still talking to Dean. It’s not deep conversation, but it doesn’t need to be. It’s meaningful because Dean is talking to you. He’s himself, and he’s talking to you, and that’s more important than anything. It’s all you’d really wanted, and you have it, so it’s perfect.

“Fuck, marry, kill.” You leaning your head back on the seat, your legs crossed under you. “Crowley, Lucifer, Dick.”

He snorts. “I’m not gonna answer that.”

“Why not-“

“Because I’m not a teenage girl-“

“I’ll tell you mine.” You turn your face, grinning at him. “Please?”

You don’t expect him to cave that fast, but he scowls, and mutters, “Does it have to be those three-“

“Yes.”

“Fucking why-“

“Because. Answer the question, Dean, unless you’re too much of a weak little bitch-“

“Shut up.” Dean rolls his eyes, giving you an amused glare as he answers. “Kill Dick, cause I know how and I’m not lookin’ to get eaten, fuck,” he makes a sour face, but his body doesn’t tense as he continues. “Lucifer. Marry Crowley.”

You grin, and nod in mock understanding. “I get it, because you’ve already married Crowley.“

He scoffs, but you can see the smile tug at his lips. “I told you and Sam to stop making those stupid jokes-“

“Did you? Or are you just touchy about your divorce?”

“Shut up,” Dean says your name, waving you off with a hand. “You still owe me your answer-“

“Marry Lucifer, because I think he could use the win, fuck Dick, kill Crowley.“

Dean’s face twists like he’s smelled something rotten. “Fuck Dick-“

“His name is Dick.” You hum, your smile growing teasing and wide. “I mean. C’mon.”

“Still, it’s Dick, he’s not even a person.”

You give him a flat look. “None of them are people, Dean, that’s the point.”

“You know what I mean, least Crowley’s been a human, why don’t you fuck Crowley-“

“Do you want me to fuck Crowley?”

“Of course not,” he mutters, running a hand over his face. “I just ain’t able to picture you and Dick together-“

“But you can picture me and Crowley?”

Dean glares at you, and there a slight tension in his eyes that sets off churning guilt in your stomach. You don’t know why he’s so adamant about this, but he seems to really, really care that you don’t fuck Dick. Maybe it’s because you could probably survive a Crowley encounter—you have before—but the leviathans famously don’t really play games or toy with their food. Literally.

“I’m not over the hellhound incident.” You move your hand to the back of your neck, your tone slightly apologetic. “So Dick’s the default fuck.”

“Ah. Fine.” Dean grunts, and everything in him seems to relax as his grin growing cocky. “But I think you’re just jealous of Crowley gettin to marry me-“

You flush, shoving his chest. “I am not-“

You cut yourself off, because Dean’s suddenly frozen. Rigid and wide-eyed, staring at you with darkened eyes.

“Dean,” you frown, and his nostrils flare. “Are you-“

“Hey, dude, I was looking at the spell again and-“ Sam pushes the door of the garage open, freezing as he takes in the sight of you and Dean in the car, Dean looking at you like a wild animal, and you looking at Sam narrowed eyes and a frown.

“Why were you looking at the spell?”

“No reason,” Sam says, his voice too passive as he glances between you and Dean. “Can I, uh, can I talk to Dean?”

You both look at Dean, who seems to pull himself out of the odd daze to glare at Sam and snap, “We’re talkin’ right now, Sammy, what’s up-“ “Alone!” Sam blurts, glancing at you again. “We should talk alone. It’s…” He trails off, giving you a half-hearted grimace. “Brother stuff.”

“Brother stuff,” your voice is dry as you repeat Sam’s lame excuse, and the tall dickhead just nods nervously.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

It wouldn’t be hard to fight Sam. Insist on staying here, on them looping you into whatever the hell is going on, and get him to cave. But it doesn’t feel worth it right now. Dean’s not mad at you, he doesn’t hate you, and you are a little hungry, so maybe you can let Sam do whatever brother stuff is an excuse for, then just outright ask Dean later. You think he’ll tell you now—you’re talking again, and he’s smiling again, and he’d been at ease for most of the afternoon so it’s not that he doesn’t trust you—you’ll just need to coax it out of him.

You sigh, still glaring at Sam, but start to roll out of your seat to leave them alone.

Your feet don’t even make it to the ground before Dean grabs your arms, tugging you backwards. You turn to frown at him, but he’s glaring at Sam with an almost violence.

“Whatever you gotta say, say it.” He snaps, using the rough, firm tone he uses during hunts or interrogations. A voice he almost never uses on Sam. “Or go.”

Sam pales, shooting you a desperate look, and all you can do is pull your lips into a line and look back to Dean. His grip on you is tight but not bruising, and he doesn’t seem to be interested in letting go any time soon.

“Dean,” Sam says, words slow and measured. “I can be quick, but you need to hear this-“

“I don’t need anything.” Dean doesn’t look at you, but his thumb starts to move in small circles, and you’re not sure he knows he’s doing it. “We’re good, Sam.”

Sam shakes his head. “You’re the one who told me-“

“I know what I fucking told you.” Dean snaps. “And I’m tellin’ you now, we’re good. Go.”

Sam opens and closes his mouth, giving a strange look where his brow his furrowed but his eyes are soft, and raises his hands in surrender. “Dean just,” he sighs. “I have the, um, thing. If you want it.”

You frown. “Want what-“

“Nothin’,” Dean release his hold on you, and glances down at his hand like it’s covered in something he can’t see. “I’m good, Sweetheart.” He looks back up at Sam. “I’ve got it, Sammy, don’t worry about me.”

Sam’s jaw twitches, but he nods, and leaves.

And Dean doesn’t move. His knee is suddenly pressed to yours, and he’s not looking at you but he won’t stop taking those long, heavy breathes.

“So.” He turns back to face you, the deep gleam in his eyes returned. “You killing Crowley?”

You nod slowly, scanning over Dean’s face as you force yourself to speak words that aren’t Dean, what the fuck is going on. But you’re caught in his attention and his body so close to yours, and how he’s still here. You’re still here.

The conversation continues, and stretches through the day with ease. But you don’t forget the look on Sam’s face, and you can’t escape the gleam in Dean’s eyes. You don’t really want to escape it, because it’s almost everything you’ve ever wanted from him. It’s not everything, but closer. It Dean not letting you go, and not looking anywhere but you, and smiling at you until you’re a little dizzy. You’re dizzy, and Dean’s just smiling at you.

But you’re still worried. You’re always worried about him, and this is so weird. Sam’s words are weird, Dean’s actions are weird, and you’re starting to think you’re going insane because the weird thing is that it’s not that weird. Dean’s been this close to you before, he’s talked to you this long, he’s made all these jokes and comments—or at least similar ones—and it hadn’t been weird. What’s off is how they feel charged. How he’s touching you the casual way he usually does, helping your through doors with a hand on your back or bumping your shoulder when you laugh, but his hand lingers longer than usual—it always does linger, now that you think about it, but not like this—and he always jerks back like you’ve burned him.

It’s weird that he’s just being Dean, fully Dean, but he doesn’t seem to want to be. He’s trying to swallow something, and he won’t say what, and you’re still worried.

And you’re selfish, so you’re not pushing. You’re basking in this, and feeling worry gnaw at your lungs and gut, and drowning it out with Dean.

You’ll fix it later. If you get Sam alone—which seems unlikely right now, given how you say that you’re hungry and Dean’s suddenly starving, trialing after you to the kitchen—you’ll threaten him until he tells you what the hell is going on, and what he had, and what Dean got, and why nobody’s willing to tell you.

But you’ll do it later.

Right now you’ll just stay with Dean.

End Note: I thought way too hard about the fuck, marry, kill answers. That was like, eight minutes of my life.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

If you want to be tagged, just ask!

Taglist

@artemys-ackles @brtodd @panicking-outside-the-disco @megara0224

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @spacecowgirl126 @globetrotter28 @aylacavebear @lovewolfspirit

@lordofthunderthr @nightxcreature @underground-secrets @amberlthomas

[dark-dragon-8]

Me writing a fic planner for my Supernatural fic series/AU and it slowly turning into a "try and keep as many of the characters you like and/or need for the plot to get where you want it to without it being too OOC and/or nonsensical all while still keeping your current ongoing plot relevant and have it make sense" challenge

Because ISTG people are dying 𝘸𝘢𝘺 too often in this show. I had to get creative with Sam's reactions and power limitations just to keep Crowley alive during that one scene Dean tried to kill him when they both first met him.

I had to give Sam a fucking aftershock from Dick Roman exploding so that he won't kill Crowley right then and there.

I know I'll need to find a way to keep Rowena and Charlie alive at some point in the future because they'll be killed off later on in the show and I can't have that.

I'll have to somehow keep Death alive (haha) too because I love him too much to let him go.

The only characters I plan on keeping dead so far are Bobby, Meg, John and everyone else who died in earlier seasons (besides maybe Jessica, but that's just because she's not as close to Sam in this AU)

Ellen and Jo will still be alive, though, since I'm not leaving the boys without a support system. Downside is that the two of them will be experiencing the death of their husband/father (respectively) all over again.

I'm keeping Balthazar alive too because I 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 Castiel to still have some sort of loyal subordinate/connection to Heaven.

At least Dean doesn't kill anyone (important), not yet at least (I just finished season 7) hopefully it stays that way because that man is pretty much the only one I don't have to keep on monitoring 24/7. He's honestly the most chill person in my fic when it comes to killing off plot devices, which is hilarious because I plan on making him a sadistic half demon that's kind of like the Antichrist once he gets the Mark of Cain (which was surprisingly the easiest plot twist I had to write, thanks to how I saw his demon self has been written, I swear he's the only one not killing everyone else around him just because).

I'm currently holding on by a thread of "Sam believing he's impure and therefore doesn't use his powers often" logic while also applying a good amount of "Sam uses his power in every single scenario in which he thinks Dean might be in danger" logic. It's a very stressful road and I swear to Chuck, if I didn't have an ending in mind, everyone would've been dead except for the (good) humans, and Sam would have been the culprit, maybe Castiel too, and Dean would've been surprisingly innocent (I know, it baffles me too).

I just realized, as I was writing this that maybe I just need Crowley to chill, but I can't write that because that would be character assassination of the highest degree (Crowley is a sassy drama queen and I'd rather die than take that away from him)

[charcubed]

Listen, I normally don’t condone when people are like “you’re not going to Get It unless you watch the show” because it tends to be a gatekeeping method, but… I really need people to understand that they’re not going to grasp how meta The Winchesters is as the Dean hall of mirrors show unless they watch it lmao.

The s1 finale has gotten a lot of attention for obvious reasons and there’s a lot to pay attention to in there, but it’s also heavily informed by the extremely thematically unsubtle 12 episodes that precede it. The show is like… an Experience to a batshit degree lol. Its existence is literally dedicated to comprehensively unpacking and condemning the SPN finale as bad. Dean speaks directly to you and tells you why his “ending” sucked and shows you what he wants and deserves for his future. It’s not Dean’s story, but also it IS Dean’s story because he’s telling it.

And I mean, if you need more convincing: it’s also fun as hell with found family right out of the gate, and they made 3 out of the core 4 characters bisexual (I am not joking), and pretty much every episode there’s some kind of emotional healing or catharsis, and the music fucks, and there’s actual consistency from episode to episode in remembering or naming minor characters and specific details from prior plots. Which is all extremely cool in my opinion!

If you decide to watch the show, here’s my advice for the things to keep in mind that will help you effortlessly clock its layers:

1. Every main character takes a turn on the spinning wheel of Dean mirrors in the storylines depending on the episode. There is no rule like “Mary is always the Dean mirror.” Sometimes Mary is the Cas mirror when John is a Dean mirror, for example. And I do mean every character, not just the core 4! It’s incessant. You will get used to this.

2. Our beloved narrator is canonically bisexual. Knowing this fact is a prerequisite to understanding a couple of the queer stories. Once again: I am not joking.

3. Think about Destiel. Yeah 15x18 but also Purgatory, Mark of Cain, widower arc…

4. Think about Dean’s relationship with his parents.

5. And think about how Dean himself is a parent, and his relationship with Jack.

6. And, of course, think about Chuck. (This will not take much effort. Multiple antagonists are gods. Yes, really.)

It is very loud and very consistent. Come for all of the above; stay for how you will fall in love with the characters!

I simply think you will have a good time :) and then you will truly be able to Comprehend and go recreationally insane :)

[queen-of-deans-booty]

The Aftershock

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~1.7k

Warnings: minor angst

Summary: The after-effects of taking the Mark creep in slowly and you’re not sure if taking it on was the best thing for you. Dean once had it so you go to him in hopes he might have tips on how to manage the anger you know you’ll experience.

Past, Present, and Future Masterlist

Square Filled: "Did you forget who you're talking to?" (crossover bingo) for @fandombingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

“What, in your head, told you that taking on something like the Mark of Cain was a good idea? Do you realize what could happen?”

“I know, Stephen, but Dean and Sam needed me. What was I supposed to do? Let them suffer?”

“No, you were supposed to use rational thought.”

“What do you want me to do now? You have magic. Take it off me.”

“It’s not that simple.” Stephen turns and curses under his breath. “Let me figure this out. This is exactly why I didn’t want you going off on your own.”

“I’m not a child, Stephen,” you glare.

“Your action proves otherwise.”

Stephen told you to stay close but there is one place you want to be at, and it’s nowhere near New York. He’s a smart man. He’ll find a way to get you out of this before something bad happens. The Mark is starting to mess with your head so you go to the one person who might understand how to make you feel better.

You don’t knock and sneak inside the same way you did when you first entered the Bunker. There is noise coming from the kitchen where Dean is, and his back is turned to you as he does the dishes. He doesn’t notice you standing there until he turns to grab two dirty dishes off the kitchen island.

“Shit!” he jumps. “What are you doing here? You scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble and scratch your arm absentmindedly.

“Are you okay? Are we okay? Tell me we didn’t do anything bad.”

“No, everything is okay, still. How is Sam doing?”

“Okay. He doesn’t remember much from his time as a demon albeit it short. He thinks it’s from the stress. I don’t know.”

“That’s good,” you nod, distracted.

“Is everything okay?”

“I need you to be honest with me.” He doesn’t say anything but patiently waits for you to continue. “How was life with the Mark?”

“Honestly? A nightmare. I was angry all the time. I was lashing out at people, and I had the urge to kill anything in sight. The Mark is a curse. It wants you to feed it with power. It never stopped… itching.” Dean looks at your hand scratching the arm your mark is on. “Kind of like what you’re doing now.”

“I feel bad for what I did to you and Sam which is why I took this mark. Now… I’m trying really hard not to let it affect my powers.”

Dean dries his hands and leaves the remaining dirty dishes in the sink before grabbing your hand.

“Come on. I have something that might help you with that.” He takes you down to the shooting range where everything is stocked and ready to use. “Have you ever shot a gun?”

“I have a powerful infinity stone on my wrist. Does it look like I need to shoot a gun?”

“Don’t be rude,” he says. “It’s always a good skill to have and right now, you’re going to learn.”

Dean grabs one of the smaller guns and stands behind you. You’re about to turn to face him when he puts one of his warm hands on your waist. Something blossoms in your stomach like tiny little glitters floating around. He pulls you into his wait and those glitters explode into butterflies. What is this feeling? Why do I like it so much?

Dean wraps his arms around your body and puts the gun in your hands with his on top of yours. He positions you where he needs you and removes his hands from your own but keeps them on your body.

“Focus on the target ahead of you. Aim and follow through. When you’re ready, pull the trigger.”

You aim the gun at your target and much like what you do with your powers, you focus on your target alone. You pull the trigger and shoot the target right between the eyes.

“You’re a natural,” he grins.

He runs his hands down your arms to your waist and settles on your hips. Your breathing picks up slightly and it’s not from the anxiety you feel. You hate this—not Dean this—the Mark this. You were always calm and collected, and you never lost your cool because you knew you were so much higher than mere humans. Call that arrogance but you never had a reason to feel things like anxiety, anger, and lust.

Just another thing this damn mark did you.

You turn in Dean’s arms so you’re less than a foot away from his face. He glances down at your lips before looking into your eyes.

“I don’t think this will work. Do you have something else to try?”

“Yeah, follow me.”

He pauses for two seconds before moving away from you. You see the hesitation in his eyes and you’re not sure if it’s hesitation for you or what you two are about to do next.

He takes you upstairs to the library where his precious mini bar is. After six months in the Bunker, he bought a mini bar on wheels where he keeps his good alcohol. He rolls the bar over to one of the tables and sits down before putting his feet up. You sit across from him and he leisurely pours you two a drink.

“I read alcohol isn’t the best when you have bottled up emotions on the internet.”

“Don’t listen to everything you read online.” He slides you a half-poured whiskey drink without ice. “Sip, don’t chug.” You grab the glass and take a small sip not expecting it to taste like shit. “Yeah, it’s an acquired taste.”

“Oh, God,” you cough.

“Never had alcohol before, huh?”

“I may have been born before time but I’m fairly young. Stephen only made me a person a few years ago.” Dean takes a big sip of his drink and sighs. “So, the Mark was a nightmare?”

“For me, yeah, but you’re not human. You’ll have a different experience than me. If anyone can do it and still stay good, it’s you.”

“You don’t know me.”

“No, I don’t, but we never had powers that are older than time.”

You take another sip of your drink and scrunch your face up in disgust.

“I’m scared I’m going to hurt people. It was my choice to take but I shouldn’t have done what I did to you and Sam. Before coming to your world, all I saw was a solution to your problem. Put God and Amara away. I did that. I just didn’t think of the consequence it would leave behind.”

“You’ll fight this, Y/N, better than I ever did.”

You tap your fingers on the table rapidly because of your anxiety.

“Do you ever feel like you want to do the right thing and when you do it, it feels like the most wrong thing ever?”

 “Did you forget who you’re talking to?” Dean chuckles. “I didn’t want Sam going through what I went through.”

“I get it,” you nod.

“You are not Sam or me. You’re not going to go through it the same way.”

“I hope not,” you smile sadly. “No offense but this alcohol is making me depressed. Got anything else?”

Dean just smirks. He doesn’t tell you where you’re going, only that you’re going to love it. He takes you to a run-down building in an empty shopping area. It’s nearly closing time but he must have asked the wiener to stay open later just for him.

“Dean, what is this place?”

“A place to channel the rage.” 

After checking in with the owner, he takes you to the back room which is covered with graffiti, spray paint, and broken items everywhere. Dean grabs two baseball bats from the back and tosses one to you.

“What do I do now?”

“Be like the Hulk. Smash absolutely everything.”

Dean takes the first swing at a broken TV and you jump back from the sound. It takes you two seconds before you're swinging your own bat around. Dean jumps back so he doesn’t get hit but he watches you smash things with a smile on his face. You slam the bat into a ceramic vase, and it shatters into a million little pieces.

This is actually kind of fun.

“Check this out!”

You aim your hand at the TV Dean hit and blast it with your powers. You leave a gaping hole in the middle of the TV, and Dean looks at you with a nervous chuckle.

“Why don’t we stick to the bats? I don’t think they’ll appreciate you blowing this place up.”

“Oops,” you giggle.

You and Dean take the entire hour just smashing everything to pieces until there is nothing left to break. You two leave the place with big smiles on your faces despite you still feeling the nagging sensation of the Mark. What Dean did for you helped but now that it’s over, the darkness creeps in slowly.

Dean looks over and sees the look on your face. It’s a look he knows all too well. He opens the passenger door for you but doesn’t let you in the car yet.

“You know what else helps?”

“What?”

“A nice long drive with the windows down. There’s nothing like the open road, rock music, and the wind in your hair.”

“Okay, lead the way, Winchester,” you grin.

You two pile into the car and Dean takes off toward the back roads. The drive back to the Bunker only takes twenty minutes to get from the rage room but the back roads make the journey stretch to nearly an hour. Dean puts on soft rock and allows that to be the only thing to comfort you two in the car.

The windows are down and your hair is blowing gently, and a wave of calmness washes over you. You don’t think it’s the drive or the music but Dean. Being in Dean’s company is the one thing that’s working for you. You look at him to see him with a smile on his face and singing along to the music. He barely looks at you and does a doubletake when he sees you looking at him.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just… I think I’m going to be okay.”

Dean reaches over and grabs your hand.

“Yeah, I think you will, too.”

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[cheynovak]

Crush part 4  

Dean Winchester x Reader (Y/N) & Sam Winchester (Platonic)  

Warnings: Fluff, sexual tension, implied smut, alcohol, trauma, aggression,  

Side note: English isn’t my first language, please don’t mind little mistakes.  

Words: 4800 

*Does not follow the SPN storyline! *  

--------------------------------- 

Recap part 3: Y/N is a high school crush/friend of Sam, when they were 16 y/o they attended the same school for a while. But she always liked Dean. Years later despite the trauma and difficult life, they chose to be with each other. Dean tries hard not to take Y/N on hunts but sometimes they have no choice. 

Now years later, Dean has the mark of Cain and Y/N is determent to help Sam and Dean. They been through a lot, how will they cope with this challenge? 

--------------------------------- 

“You idiot!” Y/N screamed through the halls of the bunker. “You, you, ... do you ever think, Dean! Just for one second?” - “I take Dean told Y/N about the mark?” Castiel asked Sam who sat in the kitchen while he heard the couple fight. “Yeah, just now.”  

“It’s the only way to kill Abaddon! And you know it!” Dean matched her tone. “I don’t care about Abaddon, not if it hurt you!” - “It won’t!” - “Oh yes of course like nothing ever does right? I can’t believe you!”  

“Y/N don’t be like that! Everything is fine.” - “You call black outs after killing people fine? Sneaking out to hunt alone so you can kill fine? Who are you? Because I sure as hell don’t recognise you anymore!” She turned her back and walked to the kitchen, clearly surprised to see the angel and Sam. Both looking awkward for witnessing their fight.  

“I’m going to kill Crowley.” - “Sweetheart...” He followed her close. “Don’t!” She turned back at him pointing a finger in his face. “How many times do I need to get worried about you? How many times do I need to see you die. Hell, see all of you die?” She waved her arms around. “Why on earth did you trust Crowley. He knew about Cain, he isn’t stupid!”  

“Y/N” Sam started in a soft voice. “This isn’t ideal, but we’ll get through it. I don’t like it, just like you but what choice do we have?” - “How about let someone else deal with this for once?” - “Who do you trust with this?” Dean added. “I don’t care Dean, one of these days you’ll die, for real.” - “Then I’ll go down swinging.” He said like it was nothing. “Oh, good for you, but I’ll be the one to burry you!”  

Y/N stormed out of the kitchen, grabbed her keys and went for a drive in the middle of the night. Deep inside she knew Dean was right, but why did it had to be him, she was so afraid to lose him. After all they had been through so much, the fear became more and more real.  

Dean sat down at the kitchen table. “You weren’t able to keep it from her any longer.” Cas said. “I know, I know she is just worried. But she knows this is our life.” - “It used to be much easier, ghost, vampires, but this, this really scares her.” Sam said looking at his brother’s arm. “Plus, she noticed you being... different.”  

“I know. I pushed her away. I’m sure she noticed a difference in my behaviour. It’s not like it's been easy lately.” Dean spoke like he meant hunting, but he knew they had some trouble in their relationship too. It’s not that he didn’t want to work on it, it’s just that the world was now a priority, he knew she would understand.  

Y/N arrived back home late that night, she saw Dean already sleeping in bed. She took a deep breath before crawling next to him. Nose to nose she looked at him. “Baby?” He mumbled. “Hm?” -”Please don’t be mad.” He opened one eye slightly “I’m not. I’m concerned.” She gave him a small peck between his brows, before turning around to face the other side of the room.  

Dean felt her being distant lately. No more cuddling in bed, no more morning make out sessions, if he was honest almost no intimacy at all. He knew it was his fault, since he had the mark these few weeks, he didn’t feel like it anymore. Which for him was weird. No matter how tired, she could always seduce him, but not anymore.  

He knew it made her insecure, but he was too ashamed to talk about it. He thought it would be easier to handle it once the world wasn’t burning anymore. She didn’t push him in to talking about it. But he noticed her being more edgy, easier annoyed, less happy.  

The next morning, he woke up noticing she was already up. When he opened the bedroom door, he heard music coming from the kitchen. When he walked in, he saw Y/N swaying to the music... laughing while she made breakfast with his brother. And again, when they were in a bad place, Sam could make her smile. How does he do that Dean wondered.  

“Good...morning.” Dean said with a little hesitation. “Goodmorning baby” She smiled softly but stopped dancing while turning the music down. Y/N place a plate with pancakes in front of Dean. “Eat up, before it gets cold.” She said before kissing his shoulder and walking out of the kitchen. His eyes followed her before turning back to Sam, who smiled softly.  

“Did she, talked to you lately?” He asked his younger brother. “Well, we talk all the time, a little more specific?” - “About... us?” Sam’s raised one brow. He saw how serious he was in his eyes. “Look it’s not my place to say, but she is afraid, afraid to lose you, again. But also, afraid to lose you.” 

Dean looked confused. “She thinks that you are bored of her or something. That you two are still together out of habit or mutual respect. Basically, that you don’t love her anymore.”  - “What? That’s ridiculous.” - “I told her that. But she isn’t so sure about your feelings for her anymore.”  

After breakfast Dean was determined to talk to Y/N, but unfortunately Crowley came back with information on Abaddon and the boys had to move out really quick. Y/N took a deep breath, “Remember me to kill him after you come back.” She said to Dean while looking at the demon. “I heard that.” - “Good.”  

Dean smiled. “So that means you still want me when I get back?” She kissed his lips. “I’ll always want you Dean Winchester, no matter how complicated things are.” One side of his lips curled slightly. “Just get back in one piece.” His hand moved to the back of her neck. “I promise.” he whispered before kissing her back.  

----  

The indeed got back, but the need to kill became more and more difficult for Dean to handle. He tried so hard to restrain it, knowing Y/N would be worried, but the tension between them didn’t get better.  

Next thing they know, they had to face Metatron again. In search of the tabled. But Dean felt he had a shot on killing the messenger of God. When Y/N came back from groceries shopping the bunker was empty. They headed out without telling her what was going on, part from one little text she got from Sam. Found Metatron, going after him. Don’t worry, I got him. Sam meant he was watching his brother. One thing she learned about the Winchesters, they have each other's back, but will also die for each other as long as the other gets to live.  

Sam saw Dean get stabbed by the angel blade, rushing to his brother in despair, while Metatron smiled. Sam tried to fight the angel, but he vanished. He held his brother in tears in his arms, not knowing what to do. He knew he needed to bring him home. And face Y/N.  

-- 

Y/N heard the door of the bunker open. She walked to the stairs smiling, only to see Sam carrying the lifeless body of Dean. Her smile vanished, her hand covered her mouth, eyes starting to tear. She came running towards Sam. “No, no, no, NO. Dean... baby?” - “I’m sorry.” Was all Sam repeatedly cried when she held his face in her hands.  

Sam placed his brother on their bed. Y/N sat beside him, cleaned the blood of his face and hands. “Come on baby, wake up.” She whispered under her breath, she had no idea how long she sat beside him before she got up and walked back to Sam. Could have been 5 minutes or 5 hours.  

Without saying a word, she took the bottle in front of him and poured herself a glass. “Y/N, I...” - “I don’t want to hear it Sam, you find a way to bring him back. I don’t care what we need to do. Who I need to sell my soul to, YOU bring him BACK.” Tears rolled down her cheeks when she walked away with the glass in her hand.  

Sam was trying to summon Crowley little did they know he was already visiting, knowing what would happen to Dean next.  

-- 

Sammy, let me go.  

--  

“That’s all?” Y/N teared up looking at the note Dean left. He didn’t even think of her? After all these years. Sam noticed her struggle. “I’m not giving up Y/N, if Dean is a demon, I will find a way to bring him back.” She nodded before she felt his arms pulling her into a hug.  

“I’m sure he thought of you too. Probably to fixated on leaving.” - “Or I don’t care enough.” He felt her tears on his shirt. “No, he needs you as much as you need him.”  

 “You’re not going alone Sam, I’m not letting you out of my sight.” Y/N stood arms crossed on the stairs. Weeks have been passed and Sam left her with the research while going solo on trips. Only this time he came back with a dislocated shoulder.  

She saw the hesitation in his eyes. “I know I’m no hunter, not like you guys, but I’ve been living this life just like you over the past few years.” She sighs “This is my fight too.”  

“Ok, let’s find them.” He said while turning her on the stairs. Every alert possible was installed on their phones. They searched for every crossroad demon, trying to find intel. Sam became more and more reckless, Y/N could see the disperse growing inside him.  

One night she and Sam sat down at a local diner “Dean is clearly keeping a low profile. So, do me a favour, try to enjoy the food.” Y/N looked at her phone. “Sam... Wait a minute. This may be a long shot but that bar...” She pointed at the map on her phone. “Dean used to tell me about it. Something with great beers and music?”  

Little did they know Dean tried to life the best life ever. Crowley tried to use him for his own personal amusements, of course. “You know Dean, those two are closing up on us. We might want to leave soon.”  

“You know Crowley, for a demon you do really care a lot.” He waved at the bartender asking for another shot and a cocktail with an umbrella for the ‘lady’ next to him. While he smiled at Crowley.  

“Listening to you singing the same 3 songs on karaoke has been a blast, watching you sticking your tongue down the throat of hottest chicks, I don’t care. You do you. But I really don’t want to get murdered by your brother and ex-girlfriend.”  

Y/N and Sam’s car broke down just a few miles away from the bar. A nice man stopped his car and asked if they could use some help, pretends to inspect the engine, He reveals that the reason the car stopped is because of a "killswitch" that he himself is able to operate via remote.  

Before Sam can pull out his gun from behind his back, He knocks him out cold. Y/N tried to get the gun out of the glovebox but the gun against her head made her lift her hands. “My issue isn’t with you sweetheart. Turn around and keep walking away from the car.”  

Sam wakes up to find himself strapped to a chair, Cole, the man, explains that he is using Sam as a bargaining chip to lure Dean and kill him. Sam warns Cole that Dean is now a monster, but Cole naively rebuffs saying that he knows he is a monster and that now Dean is the prey.  

Cole calls Dean and demands a trade, but Dean is apathetic towards his brother's capture, as he warned Sam not to come looking for him. “Listen Sammy, I told you to let me go. You are just too stubborn.” - “Well, Sam, it looks like a should have taken your girlfriend with us. Since your brother isn’t going to be of much help.”  

Dean’s voice changed a on the phone. “You brought Y/N?!” Sam knew he was pissed. You left her, what was I supposed to do? He thought. “Oh-oh, trouble in paradise.” Cole added. “Listen, Cole, was it? Do whatever you want. But if our paths cross, you’re dead.” Dean said with a calm voice before he hung up the phone.  

Y/N walked to the nearest motel, which took her almost an entire night. Luckly, she had some money in her phones case hidden. The clerk gave her a set of keys. Y/N was glad she could take at least a shower and a few hours of sleep before creating a plan of finding Sam.  

But when she lied down in bed and closed her eyes, she could hear her neighbours, or at least the girl. Realising they weren’t planning on getting sleep anytime soon. “Great, cheap motel walls.” She said under her breath. She walked back to the bathroom finding something to stuff her ears with.  

By morning she woke up by the sound of what she thought would be Crowley. “Seriously on my bed?” Y/N almost flew out of bed and opened the door only to bump into the blonde girl who she heard last night. “I’m sorry.” Y/N said but got nothing but a dirty look.  

Then she saw Crowley's head pop out of the room next door. “Oh no.” Y/N held her foot between the door he just wanted to close. “CROWLEY!” She burst through, seeing Dean in the bed. The world underneath her feet crumbled. “D-Dean?”  

“What are you doing here Y/N?” Was all his stone-cold voice said. “I-I came with Sam to find you, but he...” - “Yeah kidnapped, Cole, wants me.” - “And you let him have your brother?” - “Well, I was a little busy.” He said while going with his hands over his bed hair. “Yeah, I heard.” - “Kinky, if I knew you where next door would’ve asked you to join.” He grinned.  

She looked over at Crowley, who to her surprise looked apologetic maybe even with a little sympathy for her. “Where you going?” Dean asked when she finally felt her feet again and turned. “I need to find Sam.” - “So, you went to all this trouble to find me, now that you have, you walk away?” Dean got up.  

“Well, you’re clearly not trying to save your brother, and...” She thought hard about her next words. You cheated, you left me, you hurt me, you’re not you anymore, I can’t look at you. “I guess we all have moved on since you left us, I care for him more than ever. I need him to be safe.”  

She looked back at Crowley. “I know, you’ll kill me when you see me again.” She nodded before closing the door. “Well, that was awkward.” Crowley turned to Dean. Seeing a little fraction of human emotion in Deans eyes. She hurts him in a place he didn’t knew he still felt. 

Y/N decided to walk back to the car, but halfway there a car stopped in front of her. “Y/N?” - “Oh god, SAM!” She ran straight to him, her arms wrapped around his waist. “I’m glad I found you, I was so worried.” - “You were worried? Sam, you were kidnapped.” - “And my best friend was out there alone.”  

Thanks to the intel from Y/N her previous encounter with Dean, Sam found his brother quickly. The ride home however wasn’t very pleasant. “So, Sammy. I heard you and Y/N spent quite some time together lately. Tell me, did the high school butterflies came back? Have you been wooing her? Maybe even shared a little kiss?” - “SHUT UP DEAN!” They shouted at the same time. 

When they locked Dean in the dungeon, he looked at her standing at the door, while Sam checked the traps and the spell work around him. Y/N broke the eye contact she had with Dean when Sam walked towards her. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “He won’t go anywhere.” He said holding his hand over hers.  

Dean rolled his eyes. 

The next day Sam started to inject Dean with the purified blood. Y/N could hear him scream, she had promised Sam not to go down there. “Does it hurt him?” She asked with a tremble in her voice. Sam sighs, “I’m not sure if it’s real or he just fakes it to stop me.”  

“Maybe I should face him? See if it works.” - “No, I don’t want you to see him like this. The things he says... It’s horrible.” She nodded but decided to take a peek the next time anyway. “You know Sammy, I would never think you would go for my leftovers.” Sam did his best to ignore his brother.  

“I mean, I had always known she is your type. Hell, you would whine about her day and night, how she was the one for you. I should have known you would take her when you saw an opening.” - “Dean, you left, you fucked around, literally. But you expect me to wait for you to come home?” Y/N walked towards the circle.  

Seeing Y/N made it hard on Dean to act like he still didn’t feel the blood working. “You haven’t touched me in ages, but I have to act like a nun while you play the pornstar is that it?” He didn’t answer. God she wanted to slap that smug face of his.  

“Y/N? Why are you here?” Sam asked in his caring voice. “I wanted to say I need some fresh air.” She placed her hand on his shoulder before she stood on her toes to kiss his cheek, I’ll be right back. Sam understood the assignment, this was the perfect way of seeing if Dean still cared.  

She walked back but right before she turned through the door Sam called her. He grabbed her hand, but she backs up against the wall just outside the door, in the hall. “Trust me” She mouthed. “I’m going to be fine Sam.” said quietly, while looking at his lips. “I know, I just...” Sam matched her voice before closed the space between their lips.  

Dean sat in the chair not seeing them, but he could clearly hear them. When Sam didn’t complete his answer, it hit him. “Really guys!” No answer, “Find yourself a room!” Dean heard nothing but a deep breath coming from his brother.  

“Be safe ok?” He said before kissing the top of her head.  

By the time Y/N got back, Sam was eating pizza, “bought your favourite.” He said while looking at her, he placed his finger of his mouth, telling her he could still hear them. She took a seat on the table next to Sam’s plate. “You think he can hear us?” Sam nodded.  

Y/N took out her phone “Did it work?” the texted him, “I don’t know.” Sam answered honestly.  He hung back in his chair. “I’m not sure about any of these treatments.” - “We’ll figure this out, together.” She pinched his shoulder before grabbing a plate from the kitchen.  

That night Y/N had a really vivid dream, for some reasons their experiments on Dean turned against them. His body shuts down, both she and Sam ran towards him but when they undid the trap and untied him from the chair, but then he hit Sam knock out on the floor before he choked the life out of her.  

By the time she woke up screaming Sam ran through the door. “Hey, hey you’re ok.” He hushed her, holding her in his arms. “I’m here, it was just a dream. Shh, I got you.” Y/N couldn’t hold back, in full panic she bursts into tears. “Oh, Sam it was awful!” - “It was just a dream Y/N.”  

Sam comforts her for a few hours before she heard his breath getting heavy. She looked up, seeing her best friend had fallen asleep while holding her. She tried to get out of his grip, but when she moved, he woke up. “What’s going on?” He asked sleepy. “Lay down, it’s more comfortably.” she whispered.  

Since he was still half asleep, she could push him against her pillow. Throwing an extra blanked over him. Way to short but it was the idea that counted. She placed her head back against Dean’s pillow. She could still smell his aftershave on it. Not long after they both fell asleep.  

Y/N woke up by the movement of her bed. She noticed how Sam got up, “Hey.” she said, her voice still sounding sleepy. “Morning. I’m going to check on Dean. Try to sleep some more.” His lips curled into a smile. 

She didn’t sleep anymore, she just thought how lucky she was she had Sam in this situation. No idea how he could keep his cool every time he had to go take care of Dean. Lucky how he didn’t make this into an awkward situation, just a friend helping another friend.  

“Y/N!” She heard Sam yell. “Yeah?” she got up and ran towards Sam, who met her halfway. “He is gone.” - “What? How?” - “I don’t know but he got out.” They both ran towards the control room where Dean stood waiting for them. Sam pushed Y/N behind him when he saw his brother. “You know seeing you two all cosy and cuddly in my bed made me realise something.”  

Dean’s eyes turned black. “I should have left you to rot with those vampires when I had the chance.” - “Y/N run, RUN.” Sam pushed her away. “Oh Sammy, do you really think you two are going to have a happy ending?” - “It’s nothing like that.” He tried to distract his brother so she could find a place to hide.  

“What? This isn’t like the last time? What was it you said again, Oh yeah: I don’t think about her like that.” Dean walked slowly closer to Sam, “I don’t care that you fucked her, each have our needs Sammy, no hard feelings.” Sam frowned at his brother. “Did she do that thing with her tongue? Feels good doesn't it.” He grinned, standing toe to toe with him now. “What?”  

Before Sam could say anything more, Dean had pushed him aside. When Sam got up, he immediately locket the bunker. Turning the lighting red. Dean broke a few doors trying to find Y/N again. Little did he know Y/N had been praying to Castiel. Who thankfully appeared and helped both her and Sam.  

--  

A little while later they managed to bring Dean back.  

He stood in the bathroom, hanging on the sink while looking at his reflection. He said he needed a shower to ‘clean up’ but really, he didn’t want to be around Y/N. He felt ashamed of what he did. The bathroom door opened, he saw her walking towards him, Dean quickly looked back in front of him.  

Y/N walked behind him. “How are you feeling?” She asked. “Good.” Was all he said.  She couldn’t hold back, she wrapped her arms around his torso. Placing her cheek between his shoulders, taking a deep breath, his warm and reliable smell filled her nose. “I missed you.” She admitted before giving him the space she knows he needed.  

“Y/N?” she turned back to him, “Where do you want me to sleep?” Y/N frowned her brows, “In our bed?” - “Are you sure.” - “Dean, I know we need to talk about... everything.” she took a deep breath, “I just hoped we could work this out.” - “Wait you... you still want me?” She smiled soft. “Just get to bed, we’ll talk then.” 

Dean felt nervous, not knowing how this conversation will go. He walked in the room noticing Y/N wasn’t there yet. “Hey, got us a beer.” She handed it to him while she got on bed sitting with her legs crossed. “Why are you so nice?” He blurred out. “I’m done fighting Dean.” He felt his chest getting heavy.  

After a silence Y/N spoke, “I think the most important question is. Do you still want this, us?” She looked at the beer bottle in her hand. “Me?” Dean now took a seat on the bed facing her. “I want nothing more. But I messed up, so if you don’t want to... I’d understand.”  

“I told you before I will always want you, but things need to be different from now on.” He listened to her. “I want you to talk to me before you make choices that affects us all. You talk to Sam or Cas about hunting but forget about me. I’m as much part of your life as them Dean.” He saw the tears shine in her eyes again.  

“All I wanted was to keep you safe, sweetheart.” She nodded rapidly, “I know, I really do, but you can’t. A few hours ago, you chased me through these halls, trying to kill me.” Hearing those words coming out of her mouth made Dean emotional.  

“And I don’t even care about what you did when you were a demon. You were not you, I know that, but you need to give me time to get over, seeing you, hearing her, realising that you...” A tear fell down his cheek. “I’m so, so sorry baby. I wish I could take it back. Undo a lot.”  

After a heart to heart, they agreed on telling each other everything. Talk more and give time to heal. She got up and softly kissed Dean’s lips. “My turn to shower.” She smiled wiping away the last few tears.  

Dean made himself comfortable in the bed waiting for her to come back. He heard Sam talking to her outside their room. “Are you guys ok? - “We will be, thanks Sam.” Y/N got inside noticed Dean waiting for her.  

She crawled in bed on her side, only to move closer to Dean, he lifted his arm around her while her cheek snuggled against his chest. Dean kissed her hair, scared of the question he was about to ask. “Sweetheart, I got to ask. You and Sam?”  

“You believed that?” - “I heard you kiss. Saw you in this bed.” - “I wanted to see if you were affected by that, see if we could bring a part of your humanity to the horizon. And he fell asleep in this bed when I had a nightmare.” Y/N lifted herself up a little. “Sam and I, we’re still just friends, part from one staged kiss, nothing happened.”  

She cupped his cheek, “Why do you keep worrying?” - “I left you, you saw me with another girl, but even before that we didn’t make love anymore.” Y/N sighs, I know. Her hand moved over his arm, “Was it just the mark?” - “I felt scared to be close to you. Scared I would black out and hurt you.”  

Y/N moved again, holding his face now in both hands, while her legs straddled him. “Baby, look at me. Mark or no mark, demon or not, you will never, ever physically hurt me. You could have, but you let Sam stall you.” She let her forehead touch his. “I trust you Dean.”  

His hands moved to her back, holding her while her lips found his. Unconsciously she grinded against his hips. In despair, needing to feel him. His lips travelled down to her neck. “Besides, who says I don’t like it a little rougher.” She breathed out, earning a soft moan coming from Dean’s lips.  

Turning her over to her back. Hovering over her.  

“Damn sweetheart. I missed you.”  

-----

If you liked this story check out my masterlist.