#john's words or lack of informing dean's life

[boundsoffateandfamily]

SOMETHING ABOUT MISSING FATHERS supernatural 1.09 home // silence (2016) script // supernatural 2.22 all hell breaks loose // the only thing, sufjan stevens // supernatural 1.18 something wicked // "the boy", marie howe // supernatural 2.01 in my time of dying // "a list of waters", bryce emley

[scoobydoodean]

What's funny is, I think sometimes Sam does care and sometimes he doesn't, and that almost makes Sam... more of a hypocrite for criticizing Dean's lack of singular focus on finding John? Like when Dean wants to go on an "irrelevant" case, it's because he doesn't care about finding John, but if Sam does, it's different?

Sam cared about the passengers on the plane in 1.04 and was ready to go on it alone to save them when Dean balked at his fear of flying. He was desperate to protect the family in the house in 1.09 "Home". Granted—he also wanted to go on the case because it was specifically connect to him, but he argues to Dean that the people in the house could be in danger. He protected Lori from "Hook Man" with his life.

I think Sam is at war with himself during this period—with his desperation for vengeance. We see that in 1.02 and get the explanation for it in the same episode, and in that episode, we also get Dean explaining how he deals with his own hurt and anger when Sam asks desperately how he copes. I think what Dean says starts to slowly get through to Sam. It doesn't get through to Sam just with words in 1.02, but 1.03 beautifully illustrates what Dean said in 1.02 by showing how Dean 1) carries deep and lasting trauma from seeing the Yellow Eyed Demon kill Mary 2) uses that pain to empathize with Lucas and help him instead of letting that pain make him cold and uncaring.

Sam doesn't complain about another case until 1.10, and that anger is reignited by what John does—by John sending them the coldest possible communication of his orders (coordinates) while knowing Sam is desperately looking for him. It's infuriating for Sam and deeply hurtful, and it's also reminiscent of a childhood where John was often absent, and Dean would be his mouthpiece and would have to field Sam's questions—becoming the purveyor of information about the whereabouts of their absent dad/god. So Sam steps right back into that child-like behavior, demanding Dean somehow produce answers to his questions about their father's whereabouts—questions Dean cannot answer, but Sam has never outgrown expecting him to be able to answer.

And further, when Dean is perfectly willing to continue the case, and doesn't seem concerned about the fact that John isn't there, I think that also recalls a piece of Sam's childhood... because kid Dean covered his worry about their father. We see a great example of this in 3.08 "A Very Supernatural Christmas", where Dean is looking out the window, clearly anticipating John's return before Christmas as he promised, but acts completely unbothered about his whereabouts whenever Sam asks, and pretends he isn't worried that John could be hurt while Sam cries himself to sleep about it. There are perhaps, these unexplored, child-like thoughts that Dean should have answers, and Dean doesn't care enough. “Dean doesn't worry enough”... because Dean never let Sam see that.

Dean's "because Dad said so" also might recall that childhood experience and how Sam resented Dean for things that were always out of Dean's control because he considered Dean the authority in John's absence and Dean had to falsely assume that role. "Because Dad said so" sounds like something a kid (kid Dean!) would say. It's a kid's argument! "Because Dad said!"

I don't want to fully discount Dean simply caring about their father's orders and having faith in him at this point in the story, but I also think that narrative is way overstated, and that "because I said so" is not as shrewd as what I usually expect from Dean in terms of communicating, which kind of lead me down this little road.

A lot of that was a runaway train from what you were saying but just... more thoughts. :D

Reminder Sam's narrative in 1.10 "Asylum" is that Dean is bossing Sam around, but if you actually watch the first part of the episode, the entire reason Sam is mad at Dean is because they clashed over how to find John.

Sam's idea on how to find John: Call the FBI.

Dean's idea on how to find John: Follow the coordinates John just beamed to their phones and see if he's there.

I can't imagine which action is more likely to produce a lead on John's location without causing a bunch of stupid and unnecessary problems.

[castielcommunism]

for me an essential element of dean’s character is that there’s some unspoken part of him that always goes unresolved. like dean is someone who is heavily repressed and limited by the facts of his upbringing and his life, but for me I think that unresolved-ness goes deeper than that. that even if you were to remove him from hunting and permanently place him in a stable and loving environment, there would still be some part of dean that is in perpetual disquiet. collapsing all the tensions that hold dean together would mean collapsing the character itself. and I think where this particular disquiet resides is in the realm of his relationship to masculinity.

and I don’t mean this in a depressing way! I’ve been trying to articulate why certain fanon trends don’t really do much for me personally without sounding like a spoil sport. but I find the popular interpretation of dean as transmasc un-compelling FOR ME PERSONALLY because for me transness has always been about self actualisation. It was like the missing puzzle piece in my life finally slotted into place and I no longer interacted with the world through a haze of existential confusion. my “problem” was, in a word, resolved when I discovered I was trans.

but back to dean. this tension of dean clearly having something vaguely wrong with him and covering it up by trying to be The Perfect Son is such a fundamental component of who he is that, even in an ideal scenario (be it post-canon or alt canon or what have you) where dean is living the normal life he wants to live, there’s just something about him that still feels slightly out of reach. dean is a guy who is never fully at peace with himself and he has, ironically, made peace with that unease. he failed at being a son, he tends to fail pretty frequently at being a man, he failed his brother, he fails fails fails. and the “self-actualisation” component for dean that I’m partial to is one where he embraces this failure for what it is. guess I’m just a bad son! guess I just suck at being a dude! oh well! guess there’s just something wrong with me. and he doesn’t move past that. he just makes peace with that and doesn’t pick at it further.

so like the incredibly specific flavour of trans dean that I like is one where it’s always beneath the surface. it’s not a conscious thing in that he can think about it in concrete terms, it’s just this vague notion of self-otherness that doesn’t go away. he is clearly not good at being a man, and it’s certainly not for lack of trying. but manhood is what he’s used to and what he knows best, so he just keeps going through the motions of being a man because in the grand scheme of things it’s not that big a deal. small, private transgressions of gender are savoured and sporadic, taken at face value as “indulgences” and then never examined beyond that. I like the idea of dean as vaguely nonbinary but he himself isn’t aware of it. it’s always unresolved.

I feel like I’m still not explaining myself well lol. I just personally can’t conceive of dean as someone who goes through big revelations about his identity because a core part of his identity is the fact that he will always be a try-hard and he’ll never quite know why - he did everything his father ever asked of him and it still wasn’t good enough, so it must be something deeper than feeling or reason (the truth of course being that john withheld approval as a form of control, but also dean couldn’t ever be what his dad wanted anyway because he’s not that kind of man). and that informs not only his relationship with other men but also his relationship with his own masculinity. this disquiet with his own manhood hangs eternally suspended, unspoken but present in his life, this almost comforting constant of yeah lol I guess I’m just weird. oh well. he’s not out and proud, nor is he ashamed, it just is what it is.

[buckyownsmylife]

Clean - John Winchester Smut

The one where John’s your best friend’s father

Warnings: smut, age gap, rough sex, oral sex (f), p in v, overstimulation, dirty talk, curse words

A/N: Day 6 of kinktober and I’m really exhausted and low. But here it is. Hope you guys like it. The prompts were overstimulation and bestfriend’s father.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I could feel his eyes on me from across the room. It was difficult not to, especially when it felt like my body was so perfectly attuned to his, permanently in search for his attention. But of course, because things couldn’t be easy, not only was he thirty years older than me, he was also my best friend’s father.

Sammy wasn’t even my age, which made it worse. Even he was older than me, as we’d met in college, where I’d been accepted even before I was of legal age. And now that we’d ran into each other after I lost everything and everyone I knew to a werewolf pack, he felt like it was his responsibility to take care of me, which is how I ended up in his family’s bunker, permanently stuck with him, his older brother Dean, their friend Cas - who was an angel - and their father, John. The muse behind every wet dream I’d ever had since our eyes had first met.

Life with the Winchesters - and Cas - wasn’t hard or bad. Most of the time I stayed at the bunker, perfectly content in helping with research - it was my favorite activity, after all. John had been scared of allowing me to join them on their hunts, saying I needed actual training that they couldn’t quickly provide, but these last few weeks had found us alone with each other more often than not, his hands over mine as he taught me how to pull the trigger of a gun.

That part was hard, ignoring how his touch made me feel electrified when he was so close, holding my hands in front of my body from behind and directing them towards a designated target, but not as hard as the cock I felt straining his jeans and rubbing against my backside in those same moments.

We never spoke of it, both pretending to not notice, but we knew better. And that’s precisely why I allowed him to run off into his bedroom immediately after our training sessions, without accompanying him to offer my help in return.

He was my best friend’s father. I shouldn’t. But fuck did I want to.

So that’s why these last few days, it felt like the temperature had been steadily rising between us, to the point where it seemed like we’d both burn up into flames at any moment. John had gotten back from a hunt five days ago and still hadn’t offered to meet me in a training session, something that struck me as weird, but I didn’t want to bother him, so I never asked for it, opting to simply wait for his invitation.

Now, I could feel him staring at me from across the room, and as much as I wanted to ask why, I didn’t. I just kept my head down as I tried to concentrate on the research Sam asked me to help him with.

Just as I was about to finally be able to focus, though, Dean decided to disturb the peaceful atmosphere.

“Who wants to go to the bar?” It was an invitation made strictly out of politeness. He’d long ago given up on ever getting me to leave the bunker to “relax” in that kind of loud atmosphere, so I just granted him a sheepish smile, to which he chuckled. “Alright, I got it. Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Sam, what about you?”

My best friend’s head whipped up from the book he was reading at the mention of his name, and it took him some time to tune in into what Dean was talking about. When he did, much to everyone’s surprise, he actually nodded, closing his book and stretching up. “Sure, I think I deserve some rest after this week. Are you sure I can’t convince you to join us, Y/N?”

John’s P.O.V.

She smiled, but shook her head at my boys.

“Nah, I’m good. You guys have fun. Besides, anytime you take me with you, someone ends up having to babysit me, and I’m sure the main reason you want to go out is to find someone to spend the night with, right?” Sam blushed, but didn’t deny. Dean, on the other hand, always my son, just chuckled, no embarrassment in his features. 

“Well, a man’s gotta live.” What he didn’t add was that if she offered, he’d exchange all the skanks in the world for a chance to be with her. The only person who didn’t take notice in his obvious crush for her was her.

There was another thing that remained unspoken while the boys prepared to leave the bunker. The main reason why someone had to stay behind with her was because no other girl approached our table when she was around us. She just had that effect. We became so enraptured by her that no one else caught our eye, and so no one approached.

We didn’t mind. She took all of our attention when she was around, and she didn’t even know it. So it was safe to say that ever since she stopped agreeing to be dragged out into bars with us, we were grateful.

“Dad?” They hadn’t realized I had made no effort to get ready until they were already at the door. 

“‘M not going tonight.” Her surprised eyes found mine from the other side of the room, but just like my kids, she didn’t say anything. In another minute or so they were gone and then it was only her and I in the bunker for the night.

I could see the tension in her shoulders from the other side of the room, and I almost chuckled. Perhaps this was only another sign in a long list of things that should show me how screwed up I was for wanting what I did, but I’d given up trying to fight it. I’d fucked woman after woman thinking about the girl in front of me, and she was still the only one I could think about when I lied down at night. So now it was time to get her.

“Y/N,” I called out to her a few minutes after the boys had left, wanting to give them time to possibly come back to get whatever item they might have forgotten, but when that wasn’t the case, I broke the silence that had fallen in the room without a second thought. “Come here.”

I could see even from the distance between us that she flinched at the sound of her own name. Had I startled her? She was a hunter, she couldn’t be so easily scared, but perhaps it was the tension that had appeared between us that made her uneasy enough to jump at anything.

Her head whipped up to look at me, but she didn’t immediately do anything, just stared, like she was unsure if I’d actually called her name or if it was only her own imagination playing tricks on her. When I refused to repeat myself, but still maintained eye contact with her, she slowly got up from her chair and made her way to where I was sitting, giving me the perfect opportunity to appreciate her body.

Fuck, she really was something. The way that jeans hugged her curves, showing off her tight ass, and how her breasts bounced with each step she took towards me. It was impossible not to be aroused - I couldn’t understand how Sam kept it in his pants. I knew for a fact Dean had eyed her quite a bit, because I was the one to remove any ideas of him ever getting with her with a single slap on the back of his head when I got him smirking down at her.

That kid was too much like me for his own good.

“You called?” She asked when she was finally right in front of me, her head doing that cute little thing where it leaned to one side as she nibbled on her lower lip, waiting for any sort of reaction from me.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

John’s stare was an intense kind of torture, one that seemed perfectly constructed just to break me down to my most primal state. I had no doubt he’d be able to achieve that. After what felt like hours of him undressing me with those brown hues that had seen so much more than he actually let on, he finally showed me some sort of direct recognition, sitting up straighter in the armchair he was sprawled on, before clearing his throat.

“Yes, I did call you. You see, Y/N, I’ve found myself in a sort of… situation, for quite sometime now, and I’ve tried everything I could to get myself through it. There’s only one thing left, now. You.”

My eyebrows flew up while I opened my mouth several times, in search of something to say. Still, with the little amount of information I had, all that was left for me to ask was “Me? How can I help you?”

By the way the corners of his lips twitched up - the closest thing to a smile coming from John Winchester - it was clear that while he anticipated my questioning, it still amused him greatly. I got the impression that he thought of me as something precious, innocent even, and while I couldn’t understand neither where I got this idea or why he thought of me like that, the truth was that it got me hot like nothing else.

“Considering you are the very reason for my problem, I’d say there are a lot of ways you can help me, sweetheart.” My heart had started beating more quickly, the innuendo in his words, the tension that had been ever-present in the atmosphere between us, it all made sense. But I still couldn’t believe this was actually happening, that he actually wanted me.

I didn’t want to do or say anything that let on what I was thinking about, because God, how embarrassing would it be if I had completely misread this situation?

John sighed at my lack of response, throwing a hand through his hair as he looked around the room before fixing his eyes on me again. “Listen, sweetheart. I don’t want to put you into a difficult position and I most definitely don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want, I just think you might be interested in taking up my offer. I’ve seen the way you look at me, it’s not much different from how I look at you either. None of the boys need to know. This would just be between me and you.”

I was certain he was able to hear my heartbeat by now, but still, I forced myself to speak over the thundering sound resonating in my ears. “And what would that be, exactly? Your offer, I mean.”

John didn’t immediately answer, opting instead to run his eyes through my figure once more. I forced myself to contain the inevitable shiver, pondering how the hell was he able to feel so dominating while remaining seated, whereas I was standing up.

John’s P.O.V.

“I want to use you as my personal fucktoy,” I decided to get on with it, lay it all out in the open as soon as possible. There was no reason to hide, after all, I wasn’t exactly a blushing virgin and I wanted her to know exactly what she was getting herself into if she accepted my proposal.

“Now, I need you to really understand this, pretty girl. I’m not fucking around and I’m most definitely nothing like the boys you probably fucked up until now. When I say I want you to be my fucktoy, I mean you will be my fucktoy. I have a lot of pent up frustrations to deal with and I will not do anything other than use you. It will be rough. I will not be gentle.”

I watched with clear interest as my words registered in the girl in front of me. It wasn’t hard to see that she was interested in what I was offering, by the way she was biting her lip and changing her weight from one leg to another. I was willing to bet that she was wet already. 

“Are you sure we’ll be able to keep this from the boys?” I smiled at how she called my sons, who were both older than her, and at her priorities. There was a reason I knew I should take the leap and look for relief in her. Instead of worrying about how rough I could be, she just wanted to know about the privacy of it all.

“Come here, sweetheart,” I asked, beckoning her to my lap. She obeyed with barely any hesitancy, which instantly aroused me. There was nothing I loved more than a girl who knew her place and what she wanted.

As soon as she was in touching distance, I pulled her to sit on one of my thighs, relishing in the tiny gasp of surprise she let out at the sudden movement. “You don’t need to worry,” I assured her, while wrapping a strand of her hair on one of my fingers, while my other hand secured her in her spot. “We’re both consenting adults, right? They never have to know about what we do when they aren’t here.”

Her eyes had been staring at my mouth as I talked, and by the end of my question she quickly raised them to meet mine again, like she was scared to be caught staring. A chuckle caught in my throat, I wrapped my hand around the back of her neck and pulled her to me. “Just come here,” I said right before meeting her lips with mine.

It was exactly as I imagined, her softness meeting my chapped lips with some timidness as I forced her to welcome my eager tongue. The tiny moan that she let out as I parted her lips to get my first taste of her went straight to my cock, making me groan before I adjusted her so she’d sit properly on both of my thighs, facing me. 

Her hands clutched my shirt as mine explored her body, masculine satisfaction filling my chest at the knowledge that from now on, she’d be mine to take.”Wanna start being a good girl for me?” I whispered in her ear, fully enjoying seeing the goosebumps that rose up on her arms at the touch of my breath on her skin.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Yes,” I breathed out without even thinking twice, completely lost to the feeling of John’s warm, manly hands groping my body. His ever-present smell of whiskey and gunpowder was going straight to my head, making me feel like the world was swirling around us as he savored my lips, my jaw, my throat, his hands getting lost in my hair before grabbing my ass over my jeans, grinding me against him.

“Then get up,” he ordered, already helping me do as he said with his hands on my waist. When I was standing in front of him again, he ran his eyes through me one more time before continuing, “Now strip.”

I’d normally feel at least a bit timid of following his direction, but with John looking at me like I was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid his eyes on, I found myself wishing that my clothes were already on the floor - especially since it suddenly felt way too hot in this bunker, the fluorescent lights a sun in itself. 

First went my shirt, before I unbuttoned my jeans and let them fall down to my ankles. John licked his lips at the sight of my body in just my underwear, before telling me to step out of my jeans.

He didn’t need to tell me to proceed with my strip-tease, I did so instinctively, my bra quickly falling down to the floor before my panties followed the same path. John’s gaze had darkened considerably, and had become so strong that it almost felt like a physical presence over me, exploring my crevices.

“Pull out that chair, sweetheart,” he nodded towards one of the simple wooden chairs we kept by one of the dining tables, and although I quirked an eyebrow in his direction, I did as he said, positioning the chair to face him, before he tutted. “Turn it around,” he instructed, and I did so quickly, my breasts bouncing with each step I took. “Now brace yourself on the back of that chair.”

For the first time, I hesitated before doing what he wanted. With him still seating right behind me, I’d be quite literally giving him a vision of everything. But of course, that was precisely what he wanted, so I just resorted to doing exactly as he said, wrapping my arms around the back of the chair and leaning over so that my pussy was on display for him.

I didn’t witness any sort of reaction for a few seconds, and my heart was beating so loudly I couldn’t even hear his breath to be able to actually pinpoint if he was still seated or not. All I knew was that with each passing minute, my nerves stood on end, my nipples tightening in the warm air of the room while I could feel my wetness start to seep out of my lower lips.

But then, I felt his hands on the back of my thighs, his warm breath right over my most intimate part, like he was teasing himself with my smell before allowing his own satisfaction. “Such a pretty little pussy,” he whispered in that rough voice of his that always gave me shivers. Accompanied by a sweep of his knuckles against my most sensitive part, it almost made my knees buckle.

John’s P.O.V.

I had to stop myself from chuckling at how much my little actions affected her. I could only imagine how she’d look all fucked out, when I was done with her. “Hang there, sweetheart, I wanna get myself a taste.” Keeping her still by my grip on her legs, I buried my face on her pussy from behind, paying attention to the adorable little gasp she let out at the first swipe of my tongue. “You can be as loud as you want, pretty girl. The boys aren’t here to hear ya.”

I slowly collected some of the wetness already slipping out of her with the tip of my tongue, relishing in her sweet taste. I immediately needed more, needed to have it dripping off my beard, imprinted on my taste buds.

All calmness and control recklessly abandoned, I pressed myself further inside of her, only half-listening to the broken moans and gasps leaving her lips as she tried to remain in the position I ordered her to be in, while I lapped up her cunt with a vigor I hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“Fuck, you really are a sweet thing, aren’t you? I’d forgotten how great young pussy tasted. Hang in there, sweetheart, this might take a while.” It wasn’t my plan to spend so much time just eating her out, but she was just too delicious to leave without having her cum directly against my tongue. So I gave her my all, engulfing her pussy in my mouth as my jaw rubbed against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, my beard certainly leaving a burning sensation I could only take egoistic pride in. Finally, she gave me what I wanted, cumming directly into my mouth with my nose pressed against her little clit, and I drank it all in, licking my lips and hers to make sure I wouldn’t waste any drop.

She was still trembling and trying to catch her breath when I pulled away from her, rubbing my lips to chase the remnants of her taste. Then I paused, once again looking her up and down, from the tiptoes she was resting on, the back of her thighs until the perfectly presented cunt just there for me to take.

“Wait just there, darlin’, I think I might need a second taste.” By the time I was done with her, three orgasms later, she’d cum with my hands spreading her asscheeks, after I fucked my tongue inside her pretty little asshole, with a single finger inside of her while I bit on her thighs and finally, with three digits buried to the knuckle, as she begged me for a release I was more than happy to give her. Her juices were already dripping past her ankles, and as much as I wanted to lick it all up, clean her with my tongue, my cock had been throbbing inside my jeans for far too long to continue to be ignored.

Rising up behind her, I caressed the skin of her back as I tried to calm her down, while I kept one hand on my belt, prying it open. “There, sweetheart. We’re almost done, aren’t we? All that’s left for you to do now is to welcome my cock into that tight cunt of yours. Think you can do it?”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

My heart couldn’t keep up with what was going on. It felt like I’d just run a marathon, my skin all sweaty while my wetness dripped on the concrete floor below us. “Y-yes,” I answered with all the energy I had left, flinching at how hoarse my throat felt. “I can do it.”

John chuckled warmly, and it was with a jolt of excitement that I realized his cock was out, as he pulled me against his chest by my hair. “I know you can, sweet thing. The question is… how badly do you want it?”

He rubbed his cock against me as he whispered the question in my ear, and I gasped at how thick he felt, immediately comprehending what he wanted from me. “Please, John, I want it so bad. I want your cock inside of me, I need it.” 

The growl I got in response let me know I had gotten it right even before I felt the head of his cock pressing against me, spearing me open. He shoved it all inside of me in a single thrust, not allowing me anytime to get used to the feeling of being so brutally stretched after he bottomed out.

“Now, darlin’, you just hold onto that chair and let me ruin you.” Pushing me against the chair again, he immediately started to pound against me, both hands so tightly holding onto my waist that I was sure I’d have bruised in the morning.

He wasn’t lying about ruining me. I’d never been so forcefully fucked in my entire life, and it wasn’t hard to see that I had John’s sexual experience to thank for it. “John!” I screamed out his name as I felt myself reaching that high again, my channel throbbing around him. He just kept fucking me with the same intensity, turning my sensitiveness into overstimulation in a second.

“John, please!” I begged as tears rolled down my cheeks from the way it all felt like too much - the feeling of being so filled, the way my clit ached and throbbed, my pussy trying to push him out and keep him in at the same time. Still, I couldn’t be certain of what I was asking for - for him to stop? To continue? Both ideas sounded equally necessary to me at that moment.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to be my fucktoy?” He asked threateningly, pulling me by my hair again so he could lick the salt on my cheek. “You can take it, sweetheart. You’re a big girl, aren’t you?” With a slap over my clit, I cried as my last orgasm suddenly intensified and I felt myself bursting with a white hot flash of an orgasm as I squirted all over our clamped legs.

When I finally managed to blink my eyes open again, I realized John was still hugging me to him, but he’d stopped moving. Then, I realized the mess between my legs was even stickier, and it all made sense.

“I forgot to ask you where I could cum,” he joked, kissing my temple before slowly pulling out of my abused pussy. He looked around for my clothes before selecting my shirt to wipe the excess moisture on our skins.

“It’s okay,” I explained as I tried to catch my breath, still frozen on the same spot and holding the chair, since I was scared my legs would fail me if I tried to move. “I’m on the pill.” Before I could say anything else, John picked me up bridal style and started moving us towards the bedrooms, making me wheeze in surprise. “Where are you taking me?” I inquired, confused and tired, but he looked down at me like I was suddenly gone crazy. 

“My bedroom. I figured I’d let you soak in a bath while I take care of the mess we left in the living room. Then I can come back and hold you for a bit, before you fall asleep. How does that sound?” As hard as it was to wrap my head around the concept of John Winchester performing aftercare, I was too tired to even question, so I just nodded, smiling softly up at him.

“Sounds perfect.”

[mittensmorgul]

Hi Mittens! Happy holidays! I love your meta and I had a question: I've seen you make a couple posts about Miracle lately, and while I'm definitely angry at canon replacing Cas with a dog, I was kind of taken aback at some of your comments about Dean and dogs (specifically how much you seem to hate that combination; I've never felt strongly about it one way or the other). Do you have a tag or post about your feelings on Dean and dogs? Or could you explain in a little more detail, please?

Hi hi!

Dean... has never been associated positively with dogs on this show-- up to and including that scene in Scoobynatural where he does the SCOOBYDOOBYDOOOOO! and Cas rolls his eyes and tells him flat out he’s not a talking dog. I mean, even in one of Sam’s heaven memories, he’s effectively replaced Dean with a dog... so while Dean was being implied-harshly-punished by John for “losing” Sam, Sam had been having the time of his life with a dog instead... Sorry, I’ve got a lot of resentment for dog symbolism in the show...

Cas has also been associated with dogs in a lot of... let’s go with derogatory comments, and since this dog in the finale was SPECIFICALLY a replacement for Cas in Dean’s life... I find it particularly insulting, you know?

5.14: We get dog comments about Cas and Dean both in this ep. Famine refers to Cas as Dean’s dog... “You sicced your dog on me, I threw him a steak.” And we see Cas crouched on the ground eating meat. Earlier in this ep, Sam teased Dean about his lack of any “appetite” for anything with the comment, “when a dog doesn't eat-- That's when you know something's really wrong.“

7.21: after being banished, he reappears at a dog track, where the dogs were unhappy. so... Cas was basically just another unhappy dog in this part of the story.

10.22: Rowena compares Cas to a “dog who thinks he’s people” for being an angel who rejected heaven and chose his family with the Winchesters.

10.23-11.03: Cas is literally under a spell referred to as “Attack Dog,” which he fights against but is slowly turning him into a killing machine. He seeks help from Heaven, but they only want to use him, to torture information out of him and then kill him once they get what they want. It’s implied he even kills a dog in 11.01.

11.06: when Cas is in the bunker still suffering from trauma related to the attack dog spell, lying in bed and watching tv, he changes the channel to a news story about a dog riding a skateboard, and the newscaster uses Rowena’s line from 10.22: “Aw, that dog thinks it’s people!”

12.19: Lucifer refers to Cas as the Winchesters’ “purse dog,” and s12 is littered with dog references, especially between Lucifer and Crowley (which started back in s11 when Lucifer was using Cas’s vessel and treating Crowley like a dog... there’s a lot of negative baggage attached to dogs on this show)

13.16: Scooby is obviously the one dog Dean’s okay with, having positive childhood associations with him. But when comparing themselves to the scooby gang, Sam says they don’t have a talking dog, and Dean replies that Cas is sort of like a talking dog... which is interesting because at the end of the episode Cas tells Dean he’s NOT a talking dog. And this, in a scene that was directly foreshadowing Dean becoming Michael’s suit...again, more negative baggage for both of them.

The Dean vs Dogs imagery really kicks in when Dean’s soul is destined for Hell in s3, though.

3.10: In his rant to his dream self, Dream!Dean accuses Dean of being as “mindless and obedient as an attack dog,” just a few lines before he gives the “daddy’s blunt little instrument” line that Cas reminded us of in 15.18. So I do think this is something that the writers couldn’t possibly have been unaware of in invoking that specific line and the specific baggage attached to it.

3.11, one of the MANY deaths Dean suffers is from a seemingly nice dog he tries to pet in a friendly manner. The nice golden retriever mauls him to death, like the hellhounds are due to do to him in just a few short episodes... 

3.16: literally torn apart by hellhounds... don’t know how else to make it clear that Dean Is Not A Fan of this.

4.06: suffering from Ghost Sickness, and being magically forced to experience heightened levels of fear, he runs from a lil Yorkie with a bow in its hair, pausing only long enough to warn another person on the street to run before it kills them. We are invited to see how his biggest fear-- of Lilith, of being tortured in Hell, and having been dragged there by hellhounds-- is literally tied to his feelings toward actual dogs, including nonthreatening little lap dogs.

6.01: When Dean falls under the djinn’s spell, he hallucinates an unseen monster, presumably something akin to a hellhound, but when he thinks he’s caught the monster, it’s the neighbor’s Yorkie. Just like in 4.05, Dogs, Hellhounds, and Things Dean Fears In His Soul are all tangled up together.

6.08: aka that one episode I forget exists until it comes back around on the loop (actually I don’t forget it exists anymore, I’ve seen the show too many times at this point, but meh...). But it does plant this fear, that any dog anywhere might not really be a dog. The “sleeper cell” skinwalker packs in cities all over the world? Yeah, not a happy thought for someone who really doesn’t like dogs. Or at the very least has a low-key fear of them.

7.15: I would qualify this one as just “symbolism,” but since this episode is full of anvils, it feels legit to mention that the spell Jeffrey uses to summon his demon back to him involves using Dean’s blood and a dog’s heart. Not really a dean/fear thing, but Dean AS a dog-- and a sacrificed dog at that.

8.01: When Dean gets back from Purgatory, he gets in the Impala and smells dog. Bringing on the famous rule that he’s quite angry about Sam having clearly violated even when he wasn’t on the same plane of existence at the time-- No dogs in the car. He’s still clearly not a fan. Early s8 becomes a long string of “Sam hit a dog” comments, too.

8.15: for all this episode’s grossness, it does remind us over and over again that Dean really does not like dogs. Even flat out having Dean say he likes dogs, and the woman who literally is a dog familiar tells him that no, he doesn’t.

9.05: Dean... is basically a dog. He bonds with the Colonel a bit, even identifies with the dog while he’s under the spell, but all that good will that built up between them effectively shatters again with the ominous last words he gets before the spell wears off and the knowledge that dogs were not created to be man’s best friend, but had some other-- and in this context seemingly sinister-- purpose.

And then we have every other ep that deals with Hellhounds, Dean’s failure to kill one leading to Sam taking on the trials instead of him, tied up in their mutual discussion of what they see as their respective futures-- Sam wants to live, and he wants Dean to live, too, instead of Dean constantly running toward death and self-sacrifice. So like, these themes are all tied up together, and makes all the dog stuff incredibly not fun when it comes to Dean specifically.

So when Dean does lose Cas-- and everyone else on the planet-- the dog being the ONE living being they’ve found, Dean picking her up and putting her in “Cas’s place” in the car, only to have Chuck snap her away like she was a manipulative trick the entire time? Not even really real, just one more thing to give Dean a tiny bit of hope only to maliciously snatch it away again?

And then for the SINGLE thing Dean asked for from Chuck being to bring Cas back?

And then he doesn’t get Cas back, but apparently kidnaps this random dog instead?

It’s just... indescribably weird to me, and so entirely out of character and insulting to Cas on top of it all. Like this was the only happiness Dean was allowed after saving the universe. No found extended family, no life outside of Sam and hunting, no dream of retiring and finding a beach to sink his toes in the sand for a little while. He just gets a dog, which he canonically doesn’t like and has a lot of issues with for entirely understandable reasons. So like.. .how is this cute or happy or nice?

[archivistsammy]

I want to start by saying that I am a Dean-coded Dean Girl through and through, and this post pains me to write. But after sitting through the character assassination that is season 8 and the few aggravating choices that start out season 9, I need to get some shit off my chest about THEE Dean Winchester. 

I can’t stand this scene. This interaction. One of my biggest complaints about season 8, which I touched on a bit in my very first post about the season, was Dean’s noticeable lack of empathy. He gets out of Purgatory cold, distant, and with zero patience for anyone who is not himself or Benny. And I don’t just mean Sam, who he is decidedly foul towards, but towards Cas and Kevin and Garth, too. While I can absolutely make allowances for some of his behavior (a lot of it, even), the fact the season never encourages Dean (or viewers) to think critically about how he behaves is such a huge failing. And the fact that fans of season 8 believe this is Dean at his most pure, Dean at his most himself...while simultaneously reveling in Castiel’s deathbed assertion that Dean is not in fact a blunt instrument, but someone deeply motivated by love, absolutely boggles my mind. Because throughout season 8, that is how Dean operates: as a blunt instrument. He lacks nuance, care, and consideration, and while this is largely (in my opinion) the result of his traumatic time in Purgatory, Dean is never tasked with coming to terms with what he experienced, nor held accountable for the way his experiences informed his poor treatment of others. 

Kevin, in particular, was shown minimal concern by either brother, but especially not by Dean. Dean talked to Kevin like John likely talked to Dean, and while we are often quick to condemn John for his treatment of his children, I feel it’s equally necessary to level those condemnations at Dean too, because we know what Dean is capable of. We know, especially us Dean Girls, the love that blooms in Dean’s heart, and so seeing his actions and emotional state in season 8 is incredibly difficult to watch. Finding myself repeatedly angry at Dean, disappointed in the things he says and does to others, was not a fun a time. 

And I bring this up because, while Dean does soften some once Cas returns (though not entirely by a long shot) we still see clear evidence of the extent Purgatory robbed him of his empathy, again, notably when it comes to Kevin. And this clearly carries over to this scene in the second episode of season 9.

At first glance, this scene seems sweet. The music wants you to think so, too, starting to play a soft little orchestral number that’s meant to undercut Dean’s apparent sincerity as he tells Kevin he and Sam don’t just need him because he’s useful (even though in season 8 the brothers kept Kevin in deplorable conditions--after he was tortured by Crowley even--in isolation without much apparent care, despite discovering they had a perfectly comfortable and impenetrable bunker they could have moved Kevin to fairly early on in the season, in addition to minimizing his concerns about his mother and Crowley’s influence in his head, and Dean giving him drugs to work faster and harder despite the threat to his health, all in service of being more useful) but because he’s family. As if Dean wouldn’t tear through earth, Heaven, and Hell himself to get Mary back if he thought she was being tortured by demons, leading no real life at all, as he tells Kevin in the above scene when he says he wants to leave to find his mother. 

“You, me, Sam, and Cas--we’re all we’ve got,” Dean insists, as if he isn’t currently lying his ass off to Sam--despite this being the number one sin he levels at him in season 8 while possessed by the specter--and as if he isn’t about to kick a defenseless Castiel out of the bunker in the following episode to maintain his lies to Sam. As if Dean’s efforts to uphold his charade don’t lead to the series of choices that get Kevin himself killed later on in the season. 

Dean may believe, in his own fucked up way, that Kevin is indeed part of his family. That the time they’ve spent together in service of the greater good has bonded them in a way that can only be defined in Dean’s mind in terms of family. And with Dean’s awful childhood and John’s terrible parenting, I could see how he might come to have certain ideas about family and what it means to apply that label that aren’t the most warm and fuzzy. But I also believe wholeheartedly that Dean levels that intimacy at Kevin to manipulate him into staying, and I say this because of how Dean ends the conversation:

This is an incredibly manipulative thing to say, and I think Dean full well knows it. That he’s taking Kevin on a classic guilt trip. Tell me you can’t imagine John saying the same kind of thing when Sam left for Stanford. Tell me you can’t imagine him telling Sam that they are family and they need each other because family is all we have. Tell me John wouldn’t say, “But, hey! If none of that matters to you, then walk right out that door and don’t you dare come back.” Just because Dean says it softly, with disappointment rather than anger, doesn’t make the words any less devastating. Any less influential. And it works, because Kevin doesn’t leave to look for his mother; he turns back around to ostensibly get back translating the angel tablet. Which Dean and Sam need him to do. 

Kevin has suffered immensely, and yes. Everyone on this show has. But the point I’m ultimately trying to make is how upsetting and frustrating I find it as a dedicated devotee to all things Dean to see him be so callous with others when he knows firsthand how that kind of treatment feels. How that kind of harshness stays with you, becomes something you carry on. Especially for someone like Kevin, who does not hold Dean’s threshold for pain of any kind, physical or emotional. I mean, can you imagine Dean talking this way to Charlie? To Claire? Both of whom walked into hunting with eyes wide open? Which is maybe a conversation to hold another time around how Dean protects the women in his life more than he protects the men (Because honestly, I can’t see him talking to Jody or Donna this way, either), but for the sake of this post and this episode...I just need it said that Dean is not at his best. And that is very, very hard for me to watch. 

[trekkiehood]

How Long? (Part 2) - Spn Fic

Title: How Long?

Fandom: Supernatiral

Author: @pricelesstrashpanda and @trekkiehood

Part: [1] 2/10

Words: 1.2k

Setting: Preseries - Standford Era

Characters: Dean, Bobby, Sam, John

Ship: None

Ao3 Link

Summary: Dean hasn’t seen or heard from his family in over a year. After one too many ignored phone calls, Dean decides he’s better off dead than alone. Bobby disagrees.

Trigger Warnings: Depression, Loneliness, Self-harm, Suicide

Authors Note:

Hey guys!

Thank you for all of your kind reviews! Here is the next chapter.

Just a heads up that we're gonna start getting into some Sam and John bashing. We feel as though we have kept Sam's character true to what the show portrayed Stanford Sam to be, but it results in some bashing. If that bothers you, this is your warning to get off now. The John bashing is even worse. We do not like John in this house. At all.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

-Jamie

~TH~

“Dean? Dean?!” Bobby slammed the phone down with a curse. “The idjit!” He ran a hand over his face. He knew that Dean was struggling, heading down a dangerous path ever since Sam left - really, since before Sam left - but he never thought it had gotten this bad. Bobby had assumed that John, even if a bit harsh at times, would help Dean through it. Keep him from going off the deep-end. Keep him from doing this. But John wasn’t there. And Sam wasn’t there. And Dean had effectively been alone for over a year.

Smacking his hand against the wall and letting loose another string of curses, he ripped the phone off the receiver and dialed John Winchester. He didn’t know if the lack of answer made him feel better or worse about the whole ordeal. Before Bobby could hang up, John’s gruff voice came over the speaker.

“What is it, Singer? You got a case?”

“No you Idjit, I don’t got a case. I’m calling about Dean.”

There was an annoyed sigh from the other end of the phone, “I don’t have time for this Bobby, I’m in the middle of a case and-”

“Dean’s been trying to get ahold of you and-”

“Trust me I know. I’m tired of ignoring his calls. I'm in the middle of a case and don’t have time to babysit. He’s an adult. He can take care of himself.”

“John. You need to call him.”

“Do you have a case or not?”

“No, I don’t have a case! I’m telling you that you need to call Dean, now!”

“If you don’t have one then quit bothering me and don’t tell me how to raise my son. He’s fine.”

“John Winchester if you don’t-”

“I don’t have time for this Bobby! Let me worry about my family and stop calling me!”

The line clicked on the other end and Bobby slammed the phone with such force he was surprised he didn’t break it.

The entire family was made up of a bunch of idjits!

It didn't matter. He would get someone to answer their phones and save Dean's life one way or another.

Bobby grabbed his cellphone and was heading out the door.

Last he'd heard, Dean was somewhere in Kansas. A relatively easy case involving some Manor. He should have finished that case days ago. Probably did. But if Dean wanted a few days off of the hunting grid, Bobby wasn’t going to stop him.

He should have checked in sooner. He should have-

Bobby slammed the door to his old truck shut, intentionally shutting off that part of his brain. He didn’t have time for that. Not now. He needed to find Dean.

He pulled up Sam’s number and dialed as he pulled out of the junkyard. The phone was out of service. He pulled up the next one. It rang until there was an answering machine of some guy named Frank.

On the sixth try Bobby found Sam’s current phone: “Hey, it’s Sam. Sorry I missed you. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

“Sam. Answer your phone.”

He waited a full five minutes before he dialed it again.

“Sam this is serious. If you care about your brother at all, call me back.”

He continued leaving messages as he drove. He wasn’t sure how many he had left when he was informed that the inbox was full. He switched tactics.

Usually, he was the go-to person for information, but there were other options. Scowling, he dialed a different number.

“Harvelle Roadhouse,”

“Ellen? It’s Bobby.”

“Bobby Singer, been awhile.”

He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, debating on how to ask.

There was a sigh on the other end of the phone. “Out with it, Singer. You obviously need something that you don’t want to ask for.”

“You remember John’s sons?”

“Winchester? Yeah I heard he had two boys. Never met them though.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know where Dean is, would you?”

“Nope, I haven't heard from him. He’s never stopped by and I haven’t heard from John since…” She trailed off then cleared her throat. “Why, is somethin’ wrong?”

Bobby sighed, “Just trying to find him. I know he’s somewhere in Kansas, but I’m not exactly sure where.”

“Well I’ll be sure to let you know if I hear anything.”

Bobby was silent for a moment. “Do you still have that smart kid there?”

“Ash? Yeah he’s been a real help the last couple months.”

“Can he get a phone number for me?”

“Probably, who ya lookin’ for?”

“Sam Winchester, John’s other boy. He’s goin' to school at Stanford right now and not answering my calls. I’m hoping for a home or apartment phone.”

“I’ll put Ash on it.” There was another pause. “Is everything alright Bobby? You don’t normally seem this… frazzled.”

Bobby sighed, “Dean’s in trouble, Ellen, he’s… not in the right headspace and I don’t know how to get through to him! I either need to find him or get ahold of his brother.”

He could hear Ellen’s understanding in the silence. “I’ll let you know as soon as I know somethin’. Gimme a call if you find him.”

“Thanks, Ellen.” He flipped the phone shut, annoyed at the lack of immediate answers, but grateful that there was at least a place to start.

He tried John again, only receiving the infuriating machine. He didn't need Dean’s help. He needed Dean’s family!

He was almost in Kansas when he receives word back from Ellen. Sam’s apartment phone. It’s something. At least it'd be harder for Sam to screen his call.

The phone rang twice before someone picked up.

“Hello?” A sweet female voice answered.

Bobby hesitated, his mind going through the options. Wrong number? A friend? A girlfriend?

“Listen if this is another one of those prank calls-”

“No, sorry, hello. I’m looking for Sam Winchester?”

“Oh! I’m sorry he’s not home right now. I can take a message if you’d like.”

“Not to be rude-” It was taking all of Bobby’s energy not to be rude. “But who is this?”

“Oh sorry! This is Jessica, Sam’s girlfriend.”

Bobby couldn’t help the start of a grin. So Sam had really gone and done it. Lived the good ole Apple Pie Life with college and a girl and everything. But that wasn’t why he called. He called because Sam was an idjit who didn’t know how to answer his phone.

“Tell him Bobby Singer called and that he needs to learn to answer his phone. I’ve been trying to reach him all day.”

A small giggle. “Yeah he can be bad about ignoring calls when he’s in one of his moods. I’ll be sure to let him know.”

“Tell him he needs to call his brother. It’s important.”

He wanted to blurt it out. To straight up say “Sam’s brother is threatening to kill himself so get him on the phone right now.” But as good as that would feel, this was a stranger that he didn’t trust. And that would be almost cheating, wouldn’t it? If Sam only called because he was worrying that Dean was going to kill himself would it really meet the criteria? Did it really matter so long as Dean stayed alive?

“Oh, is everything okay?”

“No. Tell Sam to call me or his brother as soon as he can.”

“I-I will.”

“Good. Thank you.” He slammed the phone shut, pulling into the Kansas welcome center. He needed to find out which Manor Dean had been investigating and pray he was still there.

~~~~~~

Well, I hope that you enjoyed that!

We finally got to see Jess and get the ball rolling forward a bit.

Next chapter we'll finally see Sam and find out what Dean has been up to during this time. What do you think will happen?

Comments give us life so any and all are greatly appreciated!

Much love and God bless,

Jamie

[maybebanks]

A Smile

JJ Maybank x reader

Warning: Luke being creepy (angst)

A smile tugged at your lips as you stared at a sleeping JJ, his breathing was soft and slow. He was calm, for the first time in weeks. But then again, he was sleeping.

You brushed his hair off of his forehead, his blonde hair slightly damp, for there was a lack of air conditioning in his house.

After spending the night at a kegger, both of you were too drunk to be rational, JJ knew your parents wouldn’t approve of you drinking, so the only other option was his place. (John B said no)

You were only a new friend to JJ, but as soon as you two met, everything clicked. Your personalities through your banter, and you couldn’t forget about the constant mindless flirting.

Deciding that noon was a good time to wake up, you poked his chest, hoping to wake him up.

“JJ,” you whispered.

He groaned in response, moving his hands over his eyes.

“Aw c’mon! You promised me you would teach me to surf,” you giggled, nudging him again.

“You remember that? We were pretty hammered last night,” he mutters.

You pry his hands away from covering his face, “get up,” you demand.

He slaps your arm, “don’t tell me what to-“ but then he looks at you weirdly, in a shock and confusion, then he lifts up the covers to the bed, looking under.

“What are you doing?” You chuckle, he looked slightly flustered. But quickly calmed down.

“Just..checkin’,” he answers, shortly.

“Checking for what?” you groaned, now stepping out of his surprisingly comfortable bed.

“If we...had sex or not,” JJ replies, nonchalantly.

Your eyes widen, “as if, Maybank,”

He rolls his eyes, then gets up and throws on a boat t-shirt.

You were wearing your top from last night, with a bikini under, it reaked of alchohol and weed.

You pulled at it and sniffed, “Ugh! JJ did you smoke on me or something, this smells like ass,”

“You think ‘I smoked on you’? Girl you crazy, maybe your drunken memory is not so good after all,” JJ shrugs, throwing you one of his clean shirts.

You catch the shirt, “No! No way. I don’t smoke,” you attempt, trying to convince yourself.

JJ laughs quietly, “you did smoke. And didn’t cough once! I’m proud of you babe,”

“You are corrupting me,” you mumble, turning around and pulling off your shirt.

“Damn,” JJ whispers.

You whip your head around at him, he is looking at your chest as you change, thankfully you had a bikini on, but still.

“JJ, f you,” you insult and finish getting dressed.

JJ opens his bedroom door and you walk out, he doesn’t follow you, instead goes into the kitchen.

“Your not gonna walk me out? How rude,” you joke.

“Who do you think I am? A gentleman?” He responds, causing a laugh.

“Not even close,”

“Shit! I think the hose is on!? I gotta go outside and turn it off, see ya later, and meet at the cove for surfing at 6:00,” JJ calls, then jumps out the side door.

You smile at the thought, surfing with the best surfer in the OBX, though you would never tell him that.

You continue to leave, opening the second screen door to the porch. Soon after, you realize you aren’t alone.

You gasp loudly at the figure of a man, he is wearing a tan t-shirt and is turned away, working on something mechanically.

You stumble over a small beer cooler, and land on your butt on the ground.

He turns sharply, his expression seems to be masked. He has a smirk on his face, then he turns off his machine.

He approaches you. You shuffle quickly to your feet again.

“Hello, pretty thing,” he compliments, but it only makes you nervous, “what are you doing here?” He says the last part angerly.

“Um..so sorry to bother you Sir, I was just leaving,” you apologize, then reach for the door.

“Not so fast,” he orders, then approaches you, his steps echoing on the wood floors.

You freeze, not knowing much about JJ’s dad, but being terrified of his vibe.

He reaches towards your face, tracing a finger down your cheek, “pretty girl,” he repeats, moving his finger down your arm, then tugs against your shirt.

“Sir-I really have to..I should. Can you please..stop? Please,” you whimper.

“This is my boy’s shirt. You spent the night, didn’t you. So you come under my roof, and expect to just sneak away like the slut you are!? Huh?! Yeah my boy can fuck you, but he will never love you. So stay the fuck, away bitch,” he yells, his teeth were grinding together, his face inches from yours.

His hand grip your waist harshly, you cry out in pain. Feeling violated. He stares you down.

“We didn’t have se-“ but before you can finish, he has shoved you out the door, not even giving you a final glance before returning to his work.

You didn’t have a car, so you just started to walk. The tears hadn’t came yet, you felt numb. If JJ’s father could say those thing, do those things, was JJ capable. And the things he said, would JJ never love you?

After what felt like hours of walking, you see Kie, she is laughing with John B, they are alone.

Every bone in your body is telling you to hug her, get help in the state you are in. But you felt hopeless, would she see you just as JJs dad did? After all you were still wearing JJs shirt.

Checking your watch, the clock read 5:59. You were suppose to meet JJ by now. No matter how much you wanted it at first, the mere idea of being with JJ right now made you weak in the knees.

So, abandoning everyone, you headed home. Locking yourself in your bedroom for the next day or two.

—

“Have y’all heard from Y/n? I haven’t seen her in two days,” Kie asks, a worried expression readable on her face.

“She blew me off for surfing the other day,” JJ adds.

“Guys I’m worried, can we go to her house, check on her?” Kie asks.

“Sure, I’m cool with that,” John B approves.

“Didn’t she say not to ever go to her house?” Pope reminds. In the past, you told the pogues to never go to your house, your parents were disapproving of them.

JJ rolls his eyes at Pope, “What’s the worst that could happen?”

—

JJ knocked one your door for the fifth or sixth time now. Your parents weren’t home, but you were. Trapped in your room, trying to ignore them.

“Maybe she’s not home?” Kie questions.

“Oh she’s home. She just...avoiding us or something,” JJ responds between knocks.

Finally, you roll out of bed.

“Fine! I’m-coming!” You shout. From inside, it hurt your head to yell, but your brushed it off. It was the standing up that was the worst.

You haven’t eaten in a day in a half, you felt weak and light headed.

“See, I told you,” JJ responds.

But as soon as you make it down the stairs, your vision blurs to black, seeing stars.

In seconds, you collapse onto the floor.

A loud thud stops JJs bickering, all of the pogues freeze in worry.

“Y/n?” JJ asks slowly, “y/n are you okay?” He repeats suspiciously.

No answer.

“We’re coming in okay?!” JJ warns, then attempts to open the door, knowing something is off.

The door clicks and pulls back, locked.

“Open the door!” John B demands.

“I’m trying!” JJ exclaims.

Kie grabs JJs arm, “lets go to the back!”

Luckily, the back door slid open with ease, and JJ and Kie rushed inside, instantly seeing you, on the floor.

“Oh my gosh, is she breathing?!” Kie shouts, JJ checks your pulse.

“Somethings wrong!” JJ exclaims, noticing odd details like the fact that you are still wearing his shirt.

“Pope! Call 911!”

“I think she’s breathing!”

“You think? Shit! Come on Y/n, stay with us,”

—

The hospital monitor beeps slowly. One after another.

JJ and the pogues wait outside. His head is in his hands, recalling a memory.

“You’ll be okay JJ,” Y/n assures, smiling. JJ had just been beaten up. You had brought him to the hospital, despite his protests, it was what he needed.

“Excuse me Miss, what is the name? We’d like to inform his parents,” the nurse asks. JJ’s hand squeezes yours. His eyes communicating something to you he couldn’t say with his words.

“Um, this is James.” You reply.

“Last name?” She asks impatiently.

“Dean.” You reply, she eyes you suspiciously.

“I know. Weird coincidence.” You add.

“A number I can call?” The nurse asks.

Then you gave the nurse your number, later answering the call in a fake old lady voice and telling the hospital that the son James Dean, was okay. Later you even covered the hospital fines. JJ never told you how greatful he was.

The nurse approaches and informs all of the pogues that Y/n was going to be fine. Just fainted due to lack of fluids and food in her body.

After an hour, you were cleared to leave.

Later in the day, JJ forced you to eat a huge burger. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to eat, just that the lingering feeling of wrong was washing over you when you were with JJ, with anyone.

1 day later

You and the rest of the pogues were at the Chateau. You still were acting and feeling off, but no one pointed it out.

JJ went to his house to drop off his surf board, it was taking longer than it should.

But after 20 minutes, JJ approached and entered the Chateau. Shocking everyone.

No one spoke, they could only stare at JJ’s cuts and bruises.

“Wh-what happened?” You feared you knew exactly what happened.

“Nothin’, just ran into my dad,” he shrugged, but his jaw was clenching angerly.

A shiver struck through your spine.

“You’re dad hit you?” You asked, looking around to see if anyone else was shocked by this. They were just solemn.

“Yeah. Sorry my life isn’t a perfect story like yours is Y/n! Sorry I’m fucked up! God you really should look at yourself, the pogue princess act is getting real old,” he insults.

You look at him in pure confusion, why was he talking it out on you. You had enough heartache at the moment.

“What the hell JJ!” Pope shouts.

“This isn’t her fault,” Kie points out. But this only adds to his fury.

“Ohh, this IS her fault. She went and saw my dad, WITHOUT my permission and now he thinks...god I don’t even fucking know. I just know you shouldn’t have done that,” JJ seethes, looking at you with something close to hatred.

Your eyes began to water, his insults seemed to be true, you only ran into his dad, not on purpose.

“JJ- I didn’t... he... I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for this to happen!” You couldn’t form words, you couldn’t stand up for yourself.

“Idiot! You’re such an idiot!” He groans.

John B steps up and grabs JJ by the shirt, “how was she suppose to know about your dad when you didn’t even tell her. Dude, get out. You need to chill out somewhere else,”

JJ scoffs, giving everyone a dirty look before leaving through the front door.

He kicks over something in the lawn.

Stunned, everyone stares at you, you feel small, weak, and horrible for causing JJ to get beaten by his dad.

Instantly, you jump up, following after JJ.

“JJ wait! I ran into him on accident ! It was after I slept over at your place. He was there. He made me,”

“He made you what?” JJ said, a little softer now.

“He made me talk to him, he thought we had sex. That’s why he was mad. I tried to tell him the truth but he....” you stop yourself when your breathing becomes difficult.

“Did he touch you? Y/n, did he? I swear to god if he touched you-“

“No, he didn’t JJ I’m fine, I’m sorry I made him hurt you. I’m sorry,” you apologize, wanting to hug him, but something was restraining you.

“Shit!” He curses, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m really sor-“

“Stop Y/n, just stop. You shouldn’t say sorry. It’s my fault. Come here,” he says, looking like he is about to cry.

You don’t move, you were scared he might touch you like his dad did.

He steps closer, and you step back.

He reads you like a book, “why are you lying to me Y/n?”

“I’m not,” you mumble. He grabs your shoulders gently.

“It’s me Y/n. JJ. I’m not him. I saw what he did to you, we had to go to the hospital for god sakes. So please, tell me the truth. Did he touch you?”

“I’m not lying,” you mutter.

“Jesus, Y/n,” JJ says, he looks at you again, “don’t hide from me, answer my question, did that bastard lay a hand on you?”

“I already feel shitty enough, can you please stop asking me-“

“Y/n. Look me in the eyes and tell me. Did he touch you? Did he hurt my girl,”

You can’t look at him, only able to mumble out a small, “yeah,”

At this, JJ wraps his arm around your figure, you return the hug, only soft cries leaving your lips.

[dothwrites]

Destiel, perhaps arranged marriage enemies to lovers tropes, with one or both thinking the other is dead and then REUNION. Bonus points for medieval au, mafia au, or no one actually says “I love you” until AFTER THE REUNION

---

I fiddled around with the prompt a little bit; hopefully this is what you wanted! also this has been in my inbox for forever and a day i’m such trash i’m sorry

---

Dean wakes to a hand clamped over his mouth and nose. He’s suffocating. 

His hand grabs under the pillow for his gun before he remembers: there are no weapons allowed in the Novak’s inner sanctum. At least, he’s not allowed weapons. He jerks against the hand but those fingers are pure steel, pushing down on his mouth and nose until the lack of air makes him dizzy. 

Cold eyes glint down at him. Dean’s brain, working at double-speed, easily places the face. 

Castiel Novak. 

When it comes to Castiel Novak, son of Michael Novak, there’s a whole host of emotions swirling in Dean’s chest. Some of them are good, some of them are murderous, and all of them roar up to the surface as he looks at Cas. 

Castiel isn’t supposed to enter his bedroom without express permission. It was one of the many rules hashed out when the exchange was made. For Castiel to break it means that he has some kind of death wish. Either that, or something’s very wrong. 

Judging from the grim look on Cas’ face, Dean’s willing to go with the second option.  

“What’s wrong?” He tries to ask, except Castiel’s hand is still over his mouth, so the words come out in a garbled wuss wruuung. Dean glares venom at Castiel and finally manages to yank Castiel’s hand away from his mouth (no small task, Castiel is like a brick wall). 

“You need to come with me,” Castiel says, his low, rough voice brooking no disagreement. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

If possible, Castiel’s expression hardens further. “Get out of bed and get dressed.” 

Furious, Dean starts to argue, but the soft click of a safety being removed stops him. Moonlight glints off the barrel of Castiel’s gun as he points it directly at Dean’s face. “I said,” Castiel orders, his voice smooth and deadly as poisoned silk, “get out of bed and get dressed.” 

Dean’s upper lip lifts in a snarl, but he does as ordered. For now, he’s forced into compliance, at least until he can come up with a plan. “You’re fucking dead, Novak,” he mutters, searching for his pants. 

Castiel says nothing, but keeps the gun trained on him until Dean is dressed down to his boots and jacket. “Pack a bag. Only take what you need.” 

Questions rise, but Dean voices none of them. He already knows it wouldn’t do him any good. Castiel’s not a chatty man at the best of times, less so when he has a gun in his hand. Dean turns to his closet, looking for his duffel back, left virtually untouched. He’s never unpacked since he moved into the Novak compound, too homesick and resentful to try making a new home out of this place. 

“You gonna kill me, Cas?” he asks, turning to face Castiel and holding his arms open in apparent surrender. 

“Come with me,” is all Castiel says, before he gestures with the gun towards the door. “Quietly. If you scream, it’s worth your life.” 

---

The kicker is, Dean thought that he and Castiel were actually...well...not friends exactly, but whatever came before friends. Allies. Maybe partners, if he was being optimistic. After all, it’s not like Castiel didn’t get equally screwed in the deal between John Winchester and Michael Novak. 

Everyone who wasn’t John Winchester or Michael Novak got screwed in the deal. It was simple: an exchange between the families, an eldest son for an eldest son. Dean Winchester went to the Novaks, while Gabriel Novak went to the Winchesters. The exchange was meant to keep peace between the two families, and usher in a new era of cooperation, or whatever bullshit they said to try and sell it. Dean’s brain had shut down around the same time his father told him he would be going to the Novaks. One look at his father told him that protesting would be for naught: he would be going to the Novaks, as helpless as a child bride, while an enemy would be coming to take his place. 

Dean had arrived at the Novak’s compound and been met by Castiel Novak. If he hadn’t hated the other man for everything he stood for, then he would have been impressed by the unruly dark hair, the luminous blue eyes, the chiseled jaw, all topping a taut, muscular body dressed in an impeccably tailored suit. But Castiel’s family had ripped him away from everything he’d known, taken him away from Sam, and put an imposter in his place. 

When Dean was dumped into an unfamiliar place, it was Castiel who was his guide. Castiel, who was about as thrilled at Dean’s presence in his house as Dean was, but who still tolerated his presence. Dean followed Castiel around, learning the layout of the mansion, but never coming close to the Novak’s secrets. Not that he expected to, but he still felt like he was falling down on the job, failing his family by not gathering every piece of information about an enemy that he could. Eventually, Castiel’s taciturn nature had softened, leading Dean to the apparently mistaken presumption that he and Castiel were on track to become partners. 

How wrong he’d been. 

---

Dean and Castiel walk through familiar halls to an unfamiliar staircase. The gun pointed at his back keeps their pace fairly brisk. Dean keeps searching for some kind of weapon, only to come up empty. He would try to rush Castiel and take the gun, but he’s sparred against Cas a few times. Though it’s a hit to his pride to admit, he’s not entirely sure he could beat Castiel in a fight, even if the qualifier of the gun weren’t an issue. 

“If you’re going to kill me, don’t you want an audience?” Dean’s steps echo on the steps, Castiel following close behind. “Got the definite impression most of you Novaks would be only too happy to see my brains blown out.” 

Dean Winchester is not known for making friends. 

“Hurry up,” is all Castiel says in reply, as he leads Dean to a door almost hidden in the dark paneling of the room. Dean’s never seen this part of the Novak mansion, and he hesitates to think of what’s behind that door--torture chambers? Whatever it is, it’s likely to be unpleasant. 

Still, it’s not like he has a choice in the matter, so he opens the door, and steps into...

“A garage?” Of all possible rooms, he wasn’t expecting this. Dozens of cars, antiques as well as the newest models of sport cars, sit gleaming in the dim light. “You want me to fix your engine?” 

“Do you ever shut up?” Castiel growls, but there’s more exasperation than true anger in the voice. “Come here, and hurry, we don’t have a lot of time.” 

For the first time, it occurs to Dean that he might not have a full grip on this situation. 

Castiel passes all of the cherries in the garage and leads him to a small, dumpy looking sedan. Dean wrinkles his nose in distaste (every car he compares to the Impala is ultimately found lacking, but this car is particularly offensive), even as Castiel presses a pair of keys and a thin slip of paper into his hand. 

“Take this car and go to that address. Everything’s been set up; you’ll have food and supplies for about six weeks. I assume you know enough to change cars as soon as you can so that one can’t be traced. You’ll have to dump your phone as soon as you can, preferably in a different place than you dump the car.” 

“Cas, what the hell are you talking about?” Dean’s been willing to go along with this for a while (guns are a good way of ensuring compliance), but here is where he draws the line. “You need to explain yourself right the fuck now.” 

Castiel clenches his jaw as thunder and lightning flicker in his eyes. Dean knows, from painful experience, that Castiel doesn’t enjoy having his will thwarted, but there’s no alternative. Castiel seems to assume that Dean will placidly comply with his whims, but Dean has never placidly complied with anything. 

“You’re in danger, but if you do what I say, then you’ll be in slightly less danger.” 

Cas pushes at Dean’s shoulder, but Dean whips his hand out, catching Cas’ wrist in his hand. “Gonna have to do a lot better than that, Cas,” he warns, squeezing just tightly enough to spark a hint of pain as the tiny bones grind together. 

Cas snarls with impatience before yanking his wrist out of Dean’s grip. “This whole agreement, the exchange...It’s all a setup. You, me, Gabriel, and Sam--we’re all pawns.” 

Dean blinks. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

“In about twenty minutes, several members of the Novak family are going to storm your bedroom with the intent to kill you, while across town, the same thing is happening in Gabriel’s room. In the morning, the eldest son of the Winchesters and the eldest son of the Novaks will both be dead, under the roof of the family who was, up until a few weeks ago, their worst enemy.” A twisted, bitter smile plays at Castiel’s mouth. 

“They want to start a war,” Dean breathes, disbelief and horror warring within him. What Cas is saying sounds so ludicrous, and yet...What reason would Cas have to lie? 

Castiel’s face is grim as he nods. “The Novaks blame the Winchesters, the Winchesters blame the Novaks, and then, just to complicate matters, Lucifer will also claim responsibility.” 

“Why?” 

Castiel shrugs, arms thrown wide in helplessness. “To sow chaos? Power? The city’s three most powerful families caught in a war? Whoever survives, whoever’s alive at the end...That family will have everything. They’ll own everything.” 

“And that���s worth the risk?” 

Castiel shrugs, a helpless little edge in the gesture. “If you think you’ll win, then I suppose so. The problem is, all three think they can win.” 

Castiel’s eyes are dark as something complicated swirls behind them. Absurdly, Dean’s heart lurches forward. For a second, he wants--But then he forces himself to pull back. “And running away will help?”

“It’s the best plan I could come up with on short notice,” Castiel snaps. “You need to get to the safe house now.” 

“Wait,” Dean breathes, as the pieces finally start to click. “You said...the assholes that are coming to kill me...They’re coming to my house...” Rage lights in him and Dean surges forward. Heedless of the gun in Castiel’s hand, he wraps his fingers around the other man’s throat. “You son of a bitch, my brother is there!” 

He squeezes, sick satisfaction curling in him as he watches a red flush spread to Castiel’s cheeks. He only has a moment to savor the feeling before Castiel shoves him away. 

“Asshole,” he coughs. His eyes water but he never blinks as he stares at Dean. “My brother’s in that house too. You think I’d let him get killed?” His upper lip curls, whether in anger or disdain, Dean doesn’t know. “Gabriel and Sam are headed to the same safe house that you are.” 

“And you? Where are you going?” 

Castiel fixes his gaze on a point beyond Dean’s shoulder. “We can’t all disappear. Someone has to stay.” 

Furious for reasons he can’t comprehend, Dean snaps, “And that someone has to be you?” 

Castiel clenches his jaw around his words. “It’s bad enough that you, Gabriel, and Sam are all going to disappear on the same night. You’re going to have the Winchesters, the Novaks, and Lucifer all on your trail. But if I stay, then I can try to cover you for as long as I can.” 

“Or you could get yourself killed!” Dean drags his fingers through his hair. He doesn’t know why the thought of Cas getting hurt sits so sour in his stomach, but it does, to the point where he thinks he might vomit if he thinks about it too long. “Your family isn’t stupid. They’re going to see me gone, and they’re going to connect the dots pretty damn quickly!” 

“I can make it look like you overpowered me. I can take care of myself.” Cas glares. “And none of this is going to matter if you don’t get the hell out of here.” 

“I’m not leaving without you.” Dean plants his feet.  

Dean’s ready for Cas to throw a punch or shove a gun in his face. But he’s not ready for Cas to lunge forward, face like a tempest, and drag him close with one hand twisted in his hair. He’s not ready for Cas’ lips to crash into his, he’s not ready for a swirl of lust and want and affection to hit him with the force of a truck. 

For a few blessed seconds, he and Cas are the only people in the world. Dean’s world narrows to Cas’ lips, Cas’ touch, Cas’ body pressed against him. Dean’s mouth opens under the onslaught and Cas takes advantage, his tongue mapping the contours of Dean’s mouth with a thoroughness bordering on savagery. 

Dean could get lost in Cas, could go so far under that he never makes it back to the surface. He pulls himself away and tries to get rid of the feeling like he left something important behind. 

“Please,” Cas asks, his voice rough and wrecked. “Please go.” He forces a sickly smile. “Once the heat dies down, I’ll join you. I promise.” 

Over the course of his life, Dean’s become quite the accomplished liar. He thought Cas be the same, but the man folds like a bad hand of cards. Grief rips through Dean as Cas pushes him towards the car. 

“If you don’t come--” Dean starts, only to be cut off by Cas’ lips pressed into his. He pulls away, much as it hurts, and holds Cas’ chin in a harsh grip. “If you don’t show up, then we’re coming for you, and that’s going to cause a damn big ruckus, so you’d better show up.” 

“Of course.” Cas’ mouth might say one thing, but his sad eyes say another. “Please, you’re running out of time. Please Dean, please go.” 

Dean throws his duffel into the backseat and turns back to Cas. This time, they move as one, their hands grappling through hair and clothes, mouths and teeth clacking in an awkward tangle of need and want. “You’d better fucking show up,” Dean hisses, nipping at Cas’ lower lip hard enough to draw blood. 

“Go,” Cas pleas. 

Cas pulls Dean’s hand away from him. His touch is so deft and sure that Dean doesn’t realize he’s been given the gun until Cas wraps his fingers around the barrel. He looks between it and Cas, confusion and fear clashing within him. 

“You have to make this look real.” 

Dean looks down at the gun again. “I’m not going to shoot you!” 

A quick smile flashes across Cas’ face, sweet enough to break Dean’s heart. “Please don’t. But if you want to help me sell this thing, then you have to make it look like we had a struggle.” 

Cas’ eyes are steady as he looks at Dean, and the gun is a solid weight in his hand. Dean’s stomach clenches as he lifts the gun. “Do it,” Cas whispers, and he might think that helps, but it just sends another jolt of guilt straight through him. 

Dean looks past Cas’ shoulder as he hefts the gun. He brings it crashing against Cas’ temple in one quick, harsh blow. The sound of impact churns his stomach and he can’t help but moan as Cas crashes down to his knees. Blood trickles from underneath his hairline, tracing a thin path down his cheek. 

Castiel Novak is a tough son of a bitch. 

Dean hit him, full strength, with the intention of putting him down. Cas isn’t fighting against him, Cas wants to go down. And yet, the part of Cas that claws to survival with a tenacious, desperate grip, is still clinging onto consciousness. 

Make it real, Cas said, knowing that being knocked unconscious was the only way he could ever hope to sell the subterfuge of Dean’s escape. 

Dean owes Cas not only his life, but Sam’s life as well. If there’s anything he can do for Cas, even if it tears him apart, he has to try. 

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, just before he slams the butt of the gun into Cas’ head. 

With a sick, wet sound, Cas hits the ground and doesn’t get up. 

“Shit, shit, shit.” Dean turns Cas onto his side, careful not to jostle him too much. The thin trickle of blood has become a stream which covers the side of his face in crimson. Dean’s heart catches in his chest at the sight, and he doesn’t relax until his shaking fingers press against Cas’ jaw to find his pulse. It’s a little thready, but still steady. 

Reluctantly, Dean pulls away. He wants to take the time to lay Cas out and make him comfortable. It feels wrong, leaving Cas unconscious on the cold, dirty floor, but it would look suspicious if Cas was arranged neatly. Cas is trusting him to do this right; Cas is trusting Dean to take care of him. 

Dean swings himself into the car and starts the engine. The garage door opens and freedom beckons by way of the open road. Down that road is Sam and safety. Dean knows he needs to follow that path. He needs to take care of Sam. 

But he still can’t help looking back in the rearview, heart twisting in his chest at the sight of Cas’ crumpled figure. 

--

part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi

NOW COMPLETE

[sofreddie]

Sam's Revenge (Part 6)

Characters: Dean, Crowley, Castiel, Sam, Reader (mentioned)

Warnings: Angst, Character Death, Violence, Gore, Blood

Word Count: 1,251

My Masterlist

Series Masterlist

PART 5

Crowley sputtered awake as water was splashed on his face. He quickly notices he was chained down to a chair, unable to move his arms or legs. As his vision cleared, he groaned, seeing Dean Winchester stood before him.

Dean held up a flask - his usual for holy water - looking curiously between it and Crowley at the lack of smoke and sizzle.

"Your brother," Crowley started with a groan, trying fruitlessly to shift in his seat, "He siphoned my powers and then cured me."

"Cured you?"

"He made me bloody human!" Crowley growled out, "Then beat me to a pulp and tossed me here."

"Well, Hell, I'm kind of proud of my baby bro," Dean smirked, setting the flask aside and stepping closer to Crowley, hunching over to look him in the eye, "I guess that means it'll be a lot easier to have a conversation then, huh?"

"You have no idea what you're up against!"

"Please, do explain," Dean gestured with open arms as if to give him the floor. Crowley described in great detail what Sam had done to himself, Ruby, and Rowena.

"He blamed us for everything that went wrong," Crowley huffed out, "But now he got what he wanted from us. Now he blames you and The Way for betraying him."

"You're lying," Dean growled. He couldn't believe that Sam would do such things. Go to such lengths. He always assumed Sam was hunting on his own or maybe tried to start a normal life somewhere. There's no way he would've intentionally gone down the dark path.

Crowley just laughed, wincing at the pain in his now human body. Dean growled and hurried off outside to get fresh air. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. Hopefully Cas would be back soon and Dean could find out the truth.

Cas stood outside of the large and elaborate mansion. He could sense Sam inside. He wasn't sure who was holding Sam here. He confidently worked his way through the sprawling building, finding nothing but demons as he searched for Sam.

He was not expecting to find him in a large, barely furnished room. His back was to Cas, but he was holding a twitching body in his arms before he let it drop to the ground to join the several others littered at his feet.

Sam's head dropped back, eyes closed as he licked his lips and savored the taste. He slowly turned towards Cas, his mouth smeared with blood, his eyes black.

Cas gasped, taking a half-step back in surprise at the sight of Sam. This close, Cas could sense the absolute power emanating from him. It was stronger even then when he was possessed by Lucifer. Cas could feel the siphoning spell at work as well, sucking up any trace of magical energy within its proximity, feeding Sam with a constant stream of power from the world around him.

"How?" Cas couldn't help vocalizing his thoughts.

"A simple spell turns my lack of a soul into a black hole for magical energy," Sam explained with a shrug, "Why are you here?"

"Dean sent me to look for you after Crowley showed up."

Sam grinned and nodded briefly, "Good. Dean will most likely kill him. He'll be doing me a favor really." Sam slowly paced the floor, nudging at the bodies with his foot as his did so.

"You did this for revenge?"

"Well, that was the original plan, yes," Sam agreed, "But now…now I have other plans."

"Which are?"

Sam grinned, lifting his hand, an invisible force dragging the angel forward and into Sam's hold.

"I'm reclaiming The Way," Sam explained, "With control of Hell my demons will make it better than John or anyone ever could. They'll bring me all the monsters I want and I'll control them too."

Cas tried to fight against Sam but found himself unable to do anything at all. Sam calmly lifted his other hand, now holding his trusty and well-used switchblade, creating a shallow cut on the angel's neck. He pulled Cas close to him and, just like with the demons, drank up Cas' grace.

Sam's black eyes flashed with a pinpoint of bright light in the pupil before receding back to his normal, sparkling hazel. He grinned menacingly at the now human Cas.

"Tell Dean I'll see him soon," Sam said, before pressing his palm flat against Cas's chest. A bright light emitted from the location and Cas screamed at the fiery pain searing through him and stealing his breath.

Dean was back in the cellar of the Winchester homestead, trying to get more information from Crowley. A bright light interrupted them. Turning towards the light, they watched as it dissipated, leaving a gasping and disheveled Cas standing in its place.

"Cas?" Dean yelled, rushing to the angel's side, catching him as he collapsed, "What happened?"

"Sam," Cas huffed, "I found him, drinking demon blood. He stole my grace."

Dean could only stare at the man as the information settled into his brain.

"He's soulless again, and absorbing a significant amount of power," he said, wincing as he pulled his shirt open. Letters were branded into his chest, a message:

I challenge the Leader

Dean swallowed hard, his eyes flittering from the lettering to his friend's eyes. He patted his shoulder reassuringly, looking to one of his men who wordlessly assisted Cas up and out of the room to get looked after.

Dean sighed, rising to his feet and turning back to Crowley, still restrained in his chair.

"So maybe you weren't lying," Dean grumbled, "But you are responsible for this," he growled, "For Sam, for my father, my mother," his voice increased in volume and anger with every word.

"I will fix my brother and this mess you've made, mark my words," Dean promised, his voice low, before he grabbed Crowley by the hair and tilted his head to the side as he leaned over him.

Without hesitation, Dean sank his teeth into the side of Crowley's neck, yanking his head sharply to the side and removing a sizeable chunk of flesh. The wound gushed blood and Dean's eyes were fixated on the wound. He leaned on the arms of the chair, spitting out the chunk of flesh into Crowley's sputtering face and watching as the light went out in his eyes. His heart ached knowing his mother died the same way. But he felt a bit of satisfaction at making Crowley suffer like she did.

Dean grabbed a cloth and wiped down his face with a sigh. If what Crowley and Cas said were true, then a shit storm was headed their way. Sam was bad enough without a soul. And remembered that time period where Ruby had him hopped up on that shit.

Now, Sam was a monster. Quite possibly the worst that any of them had ever faced. He wasn't sure how to deal with that, or if he even could. But he knew one thing for certain. He had to protect Y/N and DJ.

The main part of the Bunker had just finished being restored, with intent to still use the facility for training and teaching. However, it now seemed like the safest place to gather his family and the other Hunters. To protect them.

Dean knew Y/N wouldn't be thrilled about returning, and neither would a lot of other Hunters. But if the Leader called you to the Bunker, you came. He just hoped he wouldn't fail them.

PART 7

Forevers:

@winchesterprincessbride

@iamcmims

@roxyspearing

@reigningqueenofwords

@mogaruke

@ellen-reincarnated1967

@speakinvain

@atc74

@sterekloveaffairs

@mrs-meghan-winchester

@chook007

@growningupgeek

@goldenolaf25

@esoltis280

@hobby27

@sis-tafics

@arryn-nyxx

@x-waywardaf-x

@shann-the-artist-moon

@sandlee44

@lucywinchester2000

@emoryhemsworth

@time-travel-bouqet

@buckysbrat

@calaofnoldor

@spnbaby-67

@miraclesoflove

@lyarr24

Sam's Revenge:

@allethalove @squirrelnotsam

@salt-n-burn-em-all

@idreamofdeanie

[profoundnet]

Header by @cryptomoon and is available on merch from her redbubble store. You can use all those fancy emojis (and more!) on our Discord server!

The Masterpost is open for all creations by ProfoundBond members which are posted in their entirety during that month.

MEMBER CONTRIBUTIONS FOR AUGUST 2020!

Featuring works by Ahurston | @allmystars-i | @a-mandala-rose | @andimeantittosting | ArielAquarial | @destielshipper4cas | DragonSgotenks | Endellion | @friendofcarlotta | @friendofcarlotta | @haybibiboi | @kingbirdkathy | @kitmistry |  @latter-alice |  @maleyah-givemetomorrow | @nickelkeep | @one-more-offbeat-anthem | Shadowkat83 | @sketching-fox |  @spnsmile | @starprincecas | @writerposer

Masterpost below the cut.

DragonSgotenks - DragonSgotenks

Getting to Know You (E, 9.1k)

When picking up his new company assigned laptop to work from home Castiel Novak meets IT tech Dean Winchester, who's a little flirty and a lot drop dead gorgeous. After Dean gives Castiel his phone number Castiel calls for help with his computer and Dean, well, Dean is VERY helpful.

Tags: TopCastiel/bottomDean, strangers to lovers, condoms, anal sex, meet-cute

~

one_more_offbeat_anthem - @one-more-offbeat-anthem -  one_more_offbeat_anthem

A Barely Functioning Adult’s Guide to Beekeeping (T, 10.7k)

Dean Winchester and Cas Devereaux, seniors, are roommates and best friends. Cas is the president of the beekeeping club, and he eventually cajoles Dean into coming to a couple meetings. Meanwhile, Dean is struggling with his relationship with his estranged father, whether or not he’ll get to graduate, and the fact that he’s maybe, kinda-sorta, almost definitely in love with Cas. Pair those things with his lack of confidence, a sudden road trip home to Kansas, a nosy creative writing professor, and the fact that he might be drinking too much—Dean’s a wreck who believes he has no future. But he might be wrong.

Tags: College AU, First Kiss, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, the Impala, Angst and Fluff

~

Lovemuppet - @haybibiboi - lovemuppet

15x03 Where’s your head at? (T, 979 words)

Prompt: take a sad scene and try to make it sadder. 15x03: the breakup

Tags: angst, episode related

~

kitmistry - @kitmistry - Kitmistry

Stumble and Fall (E, 42k)

Castiel was raised to do one thing: serve his country, whether that was fighting a war or becoming an expert spy. But when his lover is charged with treason and executed Castiel defects. He has evidence that can destroy the KGB’s entire spy ring in New Mexico, he has names of scientists involved with atomic weapons who send information to the Soviets, and he won’t stop until he has revenge. Putting all his trust in the Americans, Castiel finds himself under the protection of U.S. Marshal Dean Winchester, who is too cocky and attractive for his own good, but at least seems to know what he’s doing. When a routine transfer to a safehouse goes horribly wrong, Castiel and Dean narrowly escape with their lives. With the Marshals compromised and Castiel being framed for murder, he and Dean are on the run from KGB and law enforcement alike. They have no one to trust except each other, and nowhere to go that their enemies can’t reach.

Tags: Cold War AU, Soviet Spy Castiel, US Marshal Dean Winchester, Enemies to Lovers, Suspense

~

latter-alice - @latter-alice - Latter-alice

pressing the issue (M, 2.2k)

"So," Dean shifts closer, "what's the big one?" It's obvious, and he isn't stupid. There's only one reason to ask this now. To press the issue. His answer is short, to the point. "You." The night before they leave to fight Chuck, Cas and Dean keep each other company.

Tags: First Kiss, Confessions, Cas is stressed

Sweet Insanity (G, 709 words)

"So," Dean draws the word out as he gives Cas a once over. "Did it hurt?" End of series fluff

Tags: fluff, first kiss

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Maleyah - @maleyah-givemetomorrow 

“Dean” (SFW)

A Cas drawn for Ineffable Impala's DTIYS. Sparked a companion piece Dean.

Tags: Destiel, Mobster!Cas, DTIYS submission

“Heya Cas” (NSFW)

Companion Dean, who may or may not be praying to Cas, while he's busy.

Tags: Destiel, DTIYS submission

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Kait - @kingbirdkathy - kait

Don’t leave me (SFW-ish)

"Don't leave me.“

Tags: things that Dean can never say out loud, hint of butt

reverse destiel (SFW)

reverse destiel DIY, original by gabester_sketch.

Tags: Hunter Cas, Angel Dean

smut time (NSFW)

just some smut

Tags: bottom dean, riding

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MandalaRose - @a-mandala-rose - MandalaRose

The Shots You Don’t Take (E, 57k)

Still nursing the tatters of a broken heart and trying desperately to stave off the terror of his impending graduation, college senior Cas Novak decides it’s time to blow off a little steam. Not just any hook-up will do, however. The last thing Cas needs right now is a distraction. On the lookout for someone he can enjoy a steamy night of passion with before leaving them behind entirely, Cas thinks he’s found exactly what he needs in cocky university hockey star and well-known playboy Dean Winchester. Dean is gorgeous, doesn’t date, and is the singular most infuriating person Cas has ever met. He’s the perfect one night stand...that is, until Dean decides he wants an instant replay of what was supposed to be a one-time event. Will Cas’ offer of friends, sans benefits, convince the arrogant love ’em and leave ’em hockey defenseman to find an easier score? Or will Dean wear down Cas’ defenses and lure the sexy nerd in the dorky trenchcoat back to his bed?

Tags: Hockey AU, College AU, Hate to Love, One Night Stands, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Injury/Hospital, Briefly described (non-graphic) violence, Panic Attack, Fake/Pretend Relationship, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED.

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nickelkeep - @nickelkeep - nickelkeep

Sometimes You’re the Sea (M, 10.2k)

When a freak storm overtakes the Lebanon, and Dean is knocked overboard, he's considered lost at sea. That is, until Dean wakes up onshore, with the bluest eyes he had ever seen watching over him. In a matter of days, Dean's world is turned upside down. He's falling in love with the man who saved him. A stranger appears, demanding his hand in marriage. And Dean's pretty sure that bird just called him a Dumbass.

Tags: AU - 1700s, AU - Fantasy, AU - Creatureverse, Sailor!Dean, Cecaelia!Cas, Dean POV, Little Mermaid Elements

Dog Days are Over (M, 7.8k)

It was cold. Dean shivered and reached for a blanket before snapping awake. He wasn't in his bed. He wasn't at home. For fuck's sake, Dean was still shifted. He whimpered, hating how pathetic he sounded, and tried to push himself up onto all fours. As Dean tried to put weight on his front left leg, he yelped out in pain and fell back onto the cage’s cold metal floor. He was either at the shelter or at the Vet. And he was so screwed.

Tags: AU - Modern, AU - Creatures Exist, Animal Shifter!Dean, Animal Injury, Hurt!Dean, Hurt/Comfort

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FriendofCarlotta - @friendofcarlotta - FriendofCarlotta

A Fear of Falling (E, 40k)

After his partner’s tragic death, Dean Winchester resigns from San Francisco PD to work as a private investigator. Dean’s first case is a make-or-break opportunity: tailing the youngest brother of powerful shipping magnate Nick Novak. Castiel Novak, estranged from his family by choice, lives a quiet life 30 miles north of the city. His lonely but peaceful existence comes to a rapid end when he’s drawn into a plot to fake his brother’s death. As Dean and Castiel’s paths cross and they grow closer, the noose of a dangerous conspiracy tightens around them. Will they discover the truth before it’s too late?

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Private Investigator Dean Winchester, Accountant Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Discussions of Past Suicide, Discussions of Past Drug Abuse, Minor Character Death, Inspired by Vertigo (1958), Acrophobia, Angst with a Happy Ending

Stranger Things Do Happen (T, 852 words)

Dean invites Cas to experience the human ritual of watching horror movies to get ready for Halloween. Cas soon realizes that watching scary movies with Dean may come with unexpected... opportunities.

Tags: Domesticity in the Men of Letters Bunker, Movie Nights in the Dean Cave, Getting Together, Dean Winchester Has a Sexuality Crisis, Gratuitous References to 70s and 80s Horror Movies

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Ahurston - ahurston

Yarrow, Lilac, and Foxglove (E, 10.4k)

Dean, Cas, and the magical garden down the road.

Tags: Fluff but give it feelings, domesticity, post-season 15, explicit sexual content, established relationship

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allmystars - @allmystars-i - allmystars

Feels Like Nothing (G, 700 words)

Newly Human Castiel feels the weight of human existence for the first time. Dean is there to get him through.

Tags: Canon Universe, Human Castiel, Depressed Castiel, Supportive Dean Winchester, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Holding Hands, Hopeful Ending

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sketching-fox - @sketching-fox

The Black Trenchcoat (SFW)

Artworks done for the fic “The Black Trenchcoat”, written by spnsmile in our partnership on spncanonbigbang!

Tags: winged cas, kisses, fic art. Accompanied by fic by @spnsmile.

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Endellion - Endellion

If Tomorrow Never Comes (E, 1.4k)

Dean promised Cas wouldn't die a virgin and he's going to keep his promise.

Tags: Bottom Dean, Top Castiel, anal sex, anal fingering

What We Want and What We Need (E, 1.3k)

Cas is angry, Dean is sorry. They go to the bar's bathroom to work it out.

Tags: Angry sex, Top Dean, Bottom Castiel, anal sex, spit as lube

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writerposer - @writerposer - writerposer

Croat-Ville (E, 27k)

When Castiel stumbles into the Winchester's survivor camp, one of the few safe havens left after the Croatoan virus ravaged the earth, he had thought he lost everything. What he found there, who he found, would change his life, and maybe the world.

Tags: Endverse, Age Difference, Canon-Typical Violence, Time Skip

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Destielshipper4Cas - @destielshipper4cas - Destielshipper4Cas

Fake Bite, Real Love (M, 2.7k)

To show his ex that he has moved on, Cas wants to fake a claiming bite on his neck. Painting it on doesn’t work, but luckily, his best friend and long-term crush Dean steps up to the task. Keeping a lid on his feelings is getting difficult, however, when the alpha is nibbling on his mating gland.

Tags: Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Best Friends, Idiots in Love, Omega Castiel, Alpha Dean

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Shadowkat83 - Shadowkat83

Drowning in Guilt (T, 4k)

Bot Prompt: Dean is having another slice of pizza; Cas is polishing his angel blade; Sam is at the library Summary: When Sam discovers a case of people drowning after leaving the local bar. They head to check it out, what they didn't expect was to lose Dean to the creature. Now Cas and Sam need to find Dean before its too late.

Tags: monster of the week, angst, flirting, jealously, hurt Dean, feeling realization, two parts, confession of feelings

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goldenraeofsun - @goldenraeofsun - goldenraeofsun

A Thousand Lies (E, 73k)

Dean Winchester is the best con artist in the continental US. Conscripted into the life after a stupid mistake as a teenager, he works for a man only known as the Lightbringer. He specializes in the marriage con, tricking his marks into falling in love with him and bolting after the honeymoon with everything they own. But the morning before his meticulously planned meet-cute with his newest assignment, he runs into an adorably clueless accountant named Cas in a coffee shop, and Dean’s entire view on life implodes.

Tags: con artist Dean Winchester, accountant Castiel, mutual pining, slow burn, Dean Winchester has self-worth issues, minor Dean/Crowley, angst with a happy ending

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andimeantittosting - @andimeantittosting - andimeantittosting

Honour Undressed (E, 15.3k)

Among his friends, Castiel, Lord Milton is everyone’s confidant and, along with his trusted valet, the fixer of problems. But there is one secret Castiel has never shared: he is in love with his valet and has been for years. Born in the gutters, Dean Winchester was assigned as Castiel’s batman in the war, and when Castiel travelled home to take up his title, Dean followed him as his valet. To assist Castiel, Dean is not above a little burglary or blackmail. But the one thing he wants for himself is Castiel’s heart. When Castiel’s closest friends become the target of a blackmailer, certain truths come out. But while Dean determines to seduce Castiel, Castiel is adamant that he must resist, for if there is one rule a gentleman must follow, it is never to dally with his servant.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Regency, Class Differences, Blackmail, Mutual Pining, Happy Ending

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starprincecas - @starprincecas - cuddlesandcas

Tell All The Truth, But Tell It Slant (T, 35k)

A cursed object gets touched, truths start coming out, and emotions reluctantly with them.

Tags: Canon Divergent - Post Season 8, Truth Spell, Bunker Fic, Human!Castiel, Drama, Humor

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ArielAquarial - ArielAquarial

Hidden in the Sand (G, 5.4k)

Dean tries to drive down to Palo Alto as often as he can to spend quality time with Sam. This time, things are different. Not only is he secretly apartment hunting only a city away, but he's finally getting the chance to fish on the beach instead of a rickety old pier. Despite Sam's warning about stingrays, Dean insists everything will be fine and heads into the water without a care. What could go wrong?

Tags: Fluff, Cockblock Sam Winchester, Brotherly Bonding, Day At The Beach, Vacation, First Meetings, Flirting, Alternate Universe, Lifeguard Castiel (Supernatural)

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spnsmile - @spnsmile - spnsmile

Destiel Prompt August Collection 2020 (G, 29k)

Collection of short Destiel stories prompt of August writer's month 2020

Tags: Romance,  AU, fluff,  established Castiel/Dean, First Meet,  Cute-Meet, Profound Bond,  Idiots in Love,  Boys Kissing,  Soul Mate

SKID (E, 24k)

Dean Winchester swore off love after getting dumped and fired from his job the same day. Badly drunk, he ended up balcony-hopping until a pair of hands snatched him inside a darkened room. But it's no hero, it's someone with deep voice whispering threats with a gun pointed at his back. Dean’s too drunk to deal with life but one good look at his hot assailant plus enough beer sold him to his accursed fate. The next morning, he found himself engaged to the most notorious leader of a powerful clan, Castiel Novak. Married life in the compound for a month was not as blissful so when he could, Dean fought for that freedom. Castiel relented and as Dean tried to put the pieces of his normal life together, getting a bike messenger job and dealing with pain in the ass clients, he now also needs to deal with the dangerous presence of his very jealous and very protective husband watching over him. Is his life ever going to get back to normal?

Tags: Alternate Universe-Gangster, MAFIA, Arranged Marriage,  Romance,  Hate/Love, Protectiveness,  Established Relationship,  Domestics,  Hurt and Comfort,  True love

Black Trenchcoat (E, 23k)

When Dean found out Castiel was working with Crowley to open Purgatory, he had no choice but to leave the angel in the ring of fire with nothing less than a broken heart. But instead of plotting against his friend, Dean takes a literal sense of fire vs fire. He decides to kill Castiel with love. Or that story where Dean convinces Castiel to look into their future to see if Castiel's plan against Raphael succeeds, only to find the world in chaos and an angel donning a black trenchcoat emerges to take Dean away.

Tags: Canon Divergence,  Romance,  Time Travel,  Protectiveness,  Possessive Castiel, season 6, Profound Bond, Kidnapped Dean Winchester,  Wings,  Kissing. Accompanied by art by @sketching-fox.

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Walk Me Home - Ch 5

Summary: Twenty-four years ago, Kimberly Harper met a boy who changed the course of her entire life before up and leaving one night. She spent years moving past the memories, building a stable, satisfying career as professor of folklore and mythology at the local university. Then the accidents start, and she’s forced to seek help among her hunter contacts. All it takes is a knock on her office door to send Kimber’s carefully built emotional walls crumbling to the ground.

Featuring: Teen Winchesters, high school romance, reunions, misunderstandings, high intensity emotional turmoil, Dean’s love of pie, Dean being adorable, Sam being adorable and maybe a bit nosy eventually, much group adorkable-ness, show-style investigation, mention of our favorite werewolf, gratuitous and obvious love of fall, DID I MENTION ROMANCE, fluff, smut, tension. 

Warnings: Show level violence, show level parental neglect (let’s not John bash, I’m just saying), show-style witchcraft, show-level mental manipulation, stalking, bit of angst, sexual content (higher than show level),swearing, general yearning

Word Count: 3777

Author’s Note: Eternal thanks to @mskathywriteswords​ , @fangirlxwritesx67​, and @cracksinthewalls​ for editing, revision, flailing, and generally knocking sense into me when I’m being stubborn. Decided to give Wednesday posting a try and also get a chapter up a little earlier to make up for lack of posting. Be prepared to brush your teeth after this one. The fluff morphed into cotton candy when I wasn’t looking. Also, be prepared, the next chapter is short, but...intense? Yes. Let’s say intense. 

Keep in Mind: There are a lot of flashbacks. I tried to write current events in present tense and flashbacks in past tense. Here’s hoping I got everything right!

Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY. 

In Case You Missed It: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Chapter 5

Kimber drifts gradually back to consciousness, feeling warmer and safer than she has in decades. She draws in a deep breath, stretching luxuriously, and then stilling suddenly. This bed is not her bed. This blanket is not her blanket. She has a brief moment of panic before she opens her eyes to find Dean’s face inches from hers, smooth and relaxed with sleep.

She’d only been able to let him go last night long enough for him to grab his own quick shower and change into sleep clothes. Then, in wordless agreement, they’d settled under the covers of her bed. They’d woven limbs together, pressed close without a word of discussion or thought of awkwardness. 

Just as she was falling asleep, she felt his cheek press against the top of her head, and he’d murmured a single question. She nodded her consent, and his lips met her forehead, just as soft and warm as she remembered. Then sleep asserted its claim.

Kimber lies still in Dean’s arms now, afraid to move and wake him. She’s never seen him this peaceful and relaxed, even back before life took more of a toll on him. With his guard down, she can finally see all the fine lines etched by a hard life spread over his features, adding depth and detail to his face. 

In the early morning light filtering through the threadbare curtains, she can just make out a sparse sprinkling of gray in his hair, and she smiles. Time may be catching up with Dean Winchester, but he is definitely not worse for wear. 

She shifts a little, freeing a hand, and he grumbles in his sleep, his arms tightening for a second before relaxing again. She strokes his hair back gently, combing her nails lightly across his scalp, and he shivers against her. 

She’s never seen him this vulnerable, this soft, even when they were younger. She has to strangle down the urge to trace his facial features with her fingertips. Whatever this is between them is strained by absence and misunderstanding but has somehow managed to survive the years. Touching him so intimately without his knowledge or consent…

No, she thinks. I want to ask him, I want him to hear him say yes. I want him to ask me to touch him.

Instead, she snuggles closer, closing her eyes and resting her face on his chest again, basking in the safety and warmth of his embrace for as long as she can. She is mortified when, five minutes later, her stomach lets out a growl so loud that it actually rouses Dean from his sleep. His arms tense as he stretches and frowns, eyebrows lowering with concern.

“You hungry or just really happy to see me?” he rumbles, his eyes closing again. She giggles, embarrassment abated. Then she becomes acutely aware of the rat’s nest that is her hair and what tastes like a truly horrific case of morning breath. She disentagles herself from his legs and rolls from his grasp, smiling to herself at his muttered protests. Snatching her previous day’s clothes, Kimber slips into the bathroom to perform whatever damage control she can manage under the circumstances. 

Thirty minutes later finds them at the diner across the parking lot, downing coffee with mutual, silent appreciation. Dean’s brother Sam is expected imminently, and Kimber has no classes or office hours today, so they are mostly ready to begin the investigation.

“We need to sweep your office and house for hex bags,” Dean says, between sips of his second cup of coffee. “Your house will take a while, so why don’t we start with your office to get it out of the way?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Kimber agrees, frowning. “I’ll know if anything is missing, out of place, or new. Maybe you and Sam could check out the spots of the other accidents?”

Dean opens his mouth to answer, then his eyes focus on something over her shoulder, and he nods a greeting. She turns to see a ridiculously tall man in a suit headed in their direction. It takes her longer than she’s proud to admit to reconcile this giant stranger with the slumped, defeated boy she last saw in the backseat of the Winchester’s car.

“Sam?”

His smile is warm, if a little hesitant, and she stands. They fumble between a hug and a handshake, finally settling on the former before seating themselves. A waitress drops off another mug for Sam, along with coffee refills all around, and they waste no time filling Sam in on the little they know and what they have planned.

“Actually, Sam,” Dean adds, glancing askance at the egg white omelette the waitress places in front of his brother, “I was thinking you could interview the victims at the hospital, see if they noticed anyone out of the ordinary or had contact with anyone that sounds like our stalker.” 

Sam nods, his mouth full, and turns questioning eyes on Kimber. She closes her eyes, pushing as much distraction from her mind as possible.

“He was...on the shorter side. I’d say I probably have an inch or so on him. Younger than me, but I don’t know by how much. I’m really bad at judging age, I’m sorry. Unshaven but not a full beard, kind of rough-looking. Really pale. He never looked me in the eyes, so I didn’t see his eye color. Dark, shaggy hair.”

She shrugs, spreading her hands in apology. “I don’t remember much else. Dark blue windbreaker? It’s been a few weeks, and I didn’t think I’d have to point him out in a line-up or anything.”

Sam shakes his head quickly, swallowing. “No, Kimber, it’s fine. That’s more to go on than we usually have. I’ll talk to the victims, see if anyone stands out in their minds. You two have a solid plan. I’ll give you a call after I visit the hospital, see what I can find out.”

He hesitates, his eyebrows knitted together. “Kimber, I know you’re under a lot of strain, but could you go over the incidents one more time so I have the basics before I go talk to them? I wouldn’t ask, but I need to know what to expect.”

She can’t repress the shudder than runs through her stomach, but she shakes it off and rolls her shoulders. This is just an information exchange. She can handle that. She may need a drink or two afterwards, but she can get through it one more time.

Sam listens attentively, his forehead wrinkled, mouth set in a thin-lipped frown as she recounts the series of accidents plaguing her department. He exchanges some sort of troubled, wordless communication with Dean before glancing down at his folded hands. After considering for a long moment, he speaks, his words measured and careful.

“It definitely sounds like someone has a grudge against your department, at least, if not you specifically. All the victims are friends or work closely with you. We don’t know if any of the other victims got a doll like yours. That’s something for my list. You sure you can’t think of any reason, anything at all, that might make someone target all of you?”

She shoves down her mounting frustration, feeling impotent and slow. If she could think of anything at all helpful, she would have shared it by now. 

“I really can’t, I’m sorry. I just don’t interact with that many people outside of the department, and we all get along fine, as far as I know. No special treatment, no recent honors anyone could be jealous of. I checked in with my hunter contacts that I’d helped out with witch cases in the last few years, even a few non-witch cases that were still open, and I got nowhere with that. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

Sam sighs, nodding before finishing the last of his coffee. “Figured it was worth asking. Okay, I’m heading out. Dean, I’ll give you a call in a few hours.”

Dean nods to Sam, and the younger Winchester excuses himself, crossing the crowded restaurant with a few long strides before disappearing out the door.

Kimber turns back to Dean, her eyes wide with shock she’s barely managed to suppress until just now. He frowns, taking in her expression, looks down to inspect his shirt, then back up, his face comically confused.

“What? Do I have food on my face?”

“What did you feed him after you left town?!” Kimber keeps her volume low but can’t keep the wonder from her voice. “Growth hormones? Steroids? Jesus, he’s over a foot taller than the last time I saw you both, and he was already thirteen then!”

Dean barks out a loud, sharp laugh that earns him a reproving glance from a passing waitress. He bites his lip, covering his mouth with his hand, only partially successful at smothering his snort. She can’t help but smile, a little embarrassed at her outburst, but still…

“No, just lots of fast food. Good, healthy, all-American diet. Almost had to get a full-time job, just keepin’ him fed and clothed. Kid grew out of shoes and jeans like nothin’ I’ve ever seen.”

There’s no mistaking the fondness in Dean’s voice, almost more paternal than brotherly. And the off-hand comment about keeping Sam clothed and fed...Kimber’s heart twinges, but she carefully keeps her face as relaxed and amused as she can.

“Ready to go?” she asks. He nods and stands, lifting the check from the table to take up to the register. He offers her a hand, an inviting smile curling one corner of his mouth, and she does her best to smother the butterflies in her stomach as her fingers slide into his.

…

“I promised Sam I’d go to opening night,” Dean said, something like an apology in his voice. “He’s only working tech, but he’s really excited. It’s been a while since we’ve stayed anywhere long enough that he could get involved like this.”

Kimber squeezed his fingers, pulling her coat closed with her other hand. The temperature had dropped over the last few days, and the evening was brisk as they walked hand-in-hand to the high school.

“Dean, are you kidding? You’re taking me to a play, dinner, and meeting your family all at once. Three birds with one date!” She skipped a little, swinging his hand with hers, flashing him her most exaggerated grin as she let her eyes go wide and kooky. He snorted, glancing away to hide his smile.

He stopped suddenly, tugging gently until she stepped closer, her expression relaxing. His knuckles slid gently down her cheekbone and under her jaw, lifting her chin. He kissed her, a sweet, chaste brush of his lips over hers that sent her pulse dancing. Her cheeks warmed under his attention, and he pressed his lips a fraction more firmly against hers before straightening.

His eyes sparkled in the light from the streetlamp overhead. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?” 

She popped up on her tiptoes to kiss him again, marveling at her own bravery as her hands clasped the sides of his face, locking him in place. Before he could recover, she grabbed his hand, tugging him into a run down the sidewalk, and they arrived at the school, breathless and laughing. 

The performance of Oklahoma! was pretty standard for high school. Simple dance sequences, fair to decent singing (for the most part), and about forty minutes longer than Kimber preferred. They waited afterwards for Sam to make his way from the lighting board, and he shyly offered his hand to Kimber, who accepted, smiling and squeezing his fingers just a little.

The three of them arrived at the diner, relieved to see most families were celebrating at the more expensive restaurants across town. Sam looked over the menu, his eyes as hungry as the growl that escaped his stomach. Kimber didn’t miss the sad look he shot Dean before closing the menu and setting it down. 

When he ordered an ice water and peanut butter sandwich, Kimber’s heart cracked. 

“Sam, it’s my treat tonight. You did a great job; Mrs. Hasker never lets eighth graders work the soundboard, so go nuts. Order whatever you want. It’s your night.” 

Sam, eyes wide with hope, glanced at Dean, who looked torn between shame and relief. Dean cleared his throat, shot a grateful smile at Kimber, then nodded at Sam. 

“You did good, kid. Go for it.”

Sam’s face brightened, and Kimber couldn’t help but mirror his expression as he ordered a strawberry milkshake, double cheeseburger, and cheese fries. Kimber discreetly jabbed Dean in his ribs, and he side-glared at her, suppressing what was very definitely not a manly squeak of surprise. 

“You, too, big brother,” she said, her eyes narrowing pointedly. His lips thinned, his expression pinched. She knew she was hitting a nerve for him; it was fine to accept dinner invitations at home, and fine for her to treat his little brother, but paying for him on a date was an entirely different matter. He visibly wrestled with the simple decision, frustration and pride warring with want.

She softened her expression, placing her hand over his clenched fist. “Please?” She mouthed. “It’s okay.” He glanced at Sam, who was happily chatting with the smiling waitress about the performance, and a reluctant smile tugged at the corners of Dean’s face. 

“Double-bacon cheeseburger, and chili fries, please.”

Dinner with the Winchester boys was a delight that Kimber never forgot. Though Dean teased his younger brother mercilessly, liberally sprinkling descriptors like “geek” and “nerd” in his comments, she saw the way his eyes would linger on Sam as the younger boy inhaled his meal between answering questions about his classes and the performance.

“Are you going to take AP classes, Sam?” Kimber asked. He seemed so keen and motivated, she couldn’t imagine he wouldn’t want to.

“I want to, but we move so much, I don’t think I could keep up with the curriculum,” he admitted, his expression falling. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” Kimber lowered her voice conspiratorially. Sam leaned a little closer, intrigued, and she smiled at his eagerness. It was like looking at a mirror of herself just a few years ago.

“Most AP classes follow the same guidelines across the country, almost week by week. Mr. Schaeffer is the AP coordinator at our school, and he’s pretty cool for a teacher. If you talk to him, explain your situation, I’ll bet he could get you copies of most of the AP curriculum, maybe even some spare textbooks, so you could keep up with it as you guys move around.”

Sam’s eyes widened, and he glanced at Dean for confirmation. Dean shrugged, affecting disinterest as he leaned back to drape an arm around Kimber’s shoulder. 

“I dunno, Sammy,” Dean drawled, “but Kimber’s the top of our class, so she’s probably got some idea what she’s talking about.” He let out an exaggerated huff of air as Kimber’s elbow connected with his side, doubling over as he pretended to fall out of the booth. 

Sam peppered Kimber and Dean with questions about their classes for the rest of the night and didn’t even have to be convinced to have an extra large slice of celebratory pie to finish the meal off.

The three of them stayed late enough at the diner that Kimber was obliged to call her parents on the pay phone in the corner to assure them that she had not, in fact, been kidnapped and left in a ditch on the side of the road. The temperature had dropped considerably, so when Kimber’s mother offered to give all three of them a ride home, Kimber accepted without thinking.

“My mom will be here in about ten minutes,” she announced as she slid back into the booth. “She’s going to give you two a lift back to the motel on our way home.”

Dean’s expression fell sharply, and Kimber’s heart sank. 

“You didn’t-”

“Thanks!” Sam said, unintentionally speaking over Dean. “It got so cold out all of a sudden. Say, do you think I should talk to Mr. Schaeffer tomorrow?”

“The sooner the better,” she said, shrugging on her coat. Sam nodded, slurping down the last of his drink and loping off to the bathroom. She glanced over at Dean, who was sitting stone-faced, a muscle twinging above his jaw.

“I didn’t mean to...I mean, I should have asked, Dean. I’m sorry.”

Dean’s eyes closed, his jaw clenching as his lips pinched tight. Kimber waited, feeling the sting of tears prick at the back of her eyes. She’d crossed some unspoken line between them, and she didn’t know what to do to fix the moment. It had been such a good night, up til then.

“I...I’m not mad...at you,” Dean finally ground out. “Just...just gimme a second.”

He scrubbed his face with both hands, then glanced back towards the bathroom before speaking. He kept his eyes on the table-top, his hands clenching and unclenching on the cheap formica.

“I’m not...used to accepting hand-outs. I can take care of Sam, Kimber, I don’t need...you didn’t...you didn’t have to.”

She opened her mouth, fully ready to defend herself, but he held up a hand. 

“I know. I know what you’re going to say. I get that it’s not a hand-out. I know you don’t...I know you aren’t lookin’ down at us. I’m not used to…”

He cleared his throat, then reached out to her, his eyes still firmly on the table-top. When he spoke, his voice was low and thick, his words measured. 

“I promise, I’m not mad at you. Can we leave it at that for now?” He turned pleading eyes in her direction, his hand palm-up on the table. Her fingers were in his before she realized she’d moved. Mouth too dry to speak, she nodded and allowed herself to be pulled up from the booth.

Sam came barreling back from the restroom then, saving them from further awkward conversation, and they bundled up against the chill. By the time Kimber’s mother arrived, Dean had relaxed enough to greet Mrs. Harper pleasantly, and when they reached the motel, he leaned up to kiss Kimber’s cheek before climbing out of the backseat with Sam in tow.

The next day at school, Dean was a little distracted, almost distant. He walked her home that afternoon in almost complete silence. They were a block from her house when she couldn’t take the tension anymore. She stopped short, biting her lip as tears stung her eyes. To her shame, her throat started to clench, choking any attempt at words. 

Dean looked back at her, concern and confusion clear on his face at her sudden stop. 

She swiped the heel of her hand across her cheeks, avoiding his gaze. “I’m sorry about last night,” she managed, less coherently than she would have liked. “I didn’t mean to...I didn’t...I’m sorry I ruined the evening.”

Dean was in front of her in an instant, thumbs wiping the tears from her face, lips pressed fiercely against her forehead. 

“No, sweetheart.” His tone was rough and resolute. “I told you I’m not mad at you. Last night was...Last night was wonderful. I haven't seen Sam that happy in a long time. It’s been a rough few months. Sam and Dad have started fighting. Dad expects a lot from him, but not the usual good grades kind of ‘a lot.’ And when Dad pushes, Sam pushes back, and I…”

He dropped his forehead to hers, and Kimber pulled in a shaking breath.

“I didn’t want to drag you into our mess. You are perfect, and Sam and I both had a great time last night. Thank you. For dinner. For making Sam so happy. For everything.” He pulled back a few inches, catching her gaze. “Please don’t apologize again.”

She nodded, unable to answer aloud. He searched her eyes until he was satisfied, then nodded.

“ ‘M gonna kiss you now, so Imma need you to hold back on the tears for a minute. People will think I’m a terrible kisser if you cry through the whole thing.”

She laughed, and he caught her off guard, pressing his lips to hers before deepening the kiss. His fingers slid into her hair, tilting her head until he found an angle to please them both. His tongue swept, feather-light, across her lower lip, and she melted.

They came back to Earth a few moments later, jolted from their universe by enthusiastic honking and shouting from a passing car full of guys from one of their classes. Kimber hid her blazing face against Dean’s neck as he nodded, grinning and waving at the other boys.

Instead of pulling away, Kimber linked her arms around his neck, shivering against a biting breeze that swept past. Dean’s arms constricted, pulling her close enough that she felt his heartbeat against her chest.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Dean whispered, his words nearly lost in the breeze. Then he pulled away, linked his fingers through hers, and walked her home. He kissed her once more on her doorstep, holding her face between his warm, calloused palms, eyes closed. 

He rested his forehead against hers briefly before stepping back. He tried to deliver that smooth, carefree grin from their first study session and failed miserably.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he said. Then he turned, flipping up the collar of his jacket, and stuffed his hands into his pockets as he headed down the walkway. She watched him go, wanting nothing more than to run after him. The set of his shoulders, the tense bend of his neck, told her to hold her ground, though. 

Something else was eating at Dean, and she knew him well enough to know that needling him wouldn’t get him to open up. He needed space and understanding, and she would just have to sit on her frustration. He asked for so very little, the least she could do was give him some time to work through whatever was going on. She just hoped it wouldn’t take too much time for him to open up. She hated seeing him so distant and miserable. 

When Dean finally turned up that evening, he was thirty minutes late for dinner. His father glowered at the pair of them from the driver’s seat of a sleek, black muscle car, while Sam slumped, miserable, in the back. Kimber realized with cold, painful clarity that they had, in fact, no time left at all.

…

Chapter 6

[laufire]

Supernatural s2

I’m halfway through s3 already (technically a rewatch, but there were episodes I didn’t watch the first time around), so this post is a little overdue lol. At this rhythim the posts will overlap. Plus I’m hoping I can finish s4-5 during the holidays to see the ~intended ending~ before I have to slow down on the binge-watch. After that, a season a month sounds achievable AND won’t take longer than 2021 xD

ANYWAY.

-Overall, I’ve enjoyed it more than the first one, but at the same time I’ve found myself missing how... claustrophobic? Insular? Compact? That one was. s2 was about the world opening up just a little bit more, introducing new characters to the brothers’ life, etc. I do love the detail that this is something that can only have, narratively speaking, once John is dead. Again: this show gets abusive families, consciously or not.

-The foreshadowing is beautifully done. 15 seasons make for a lot of unintentional and ironic foreshadowing later on, I’m sure, but the purposeful foreshadowing is superb this season. About the crossroads deals, of course, but especially about John’s last words. I already knew he’d told Dean he might have to kill Sam (father of the year, seriously. Though I side-eye the fandom even more for always having acted as if this is only awful for Dean lol), so I was hyperaware of every single detail. My favourite moment was the absolute horror of hearing Gordon proudly, cheerfully relate how he murdered his sister when she became a vampire (which, btw, as someone that’s still bitter about what went down with the Gunn siblings on Angel, I found it healing to see something like that treated as a horror story).

-Speaking of Gordon: I unashamedly love his character lmfao. Sterling K. Brown is mesmerizing, always. At the same time, I have serious mixed feelings (especially after seeing his arc in full in s3) because man, if it isn’t a racist mess. I’ve mentioned this before, but it’s not exactly revolutionary that the first time we see the story from the monster’s POV (something I want the show to do! Often!), it’s when white monsters are stalked and brutalized by our first black hunter. Especifically a white woman, btw (although I’m happy to see Tara Maclay as a brunette vampire. I didn’t know I needed that in my life, but I did). And you can tell that the show thinks it’s just so SMART and FUNNY to have a ~racist black hunter!! I mean, the comment about how psychic kids would be “betraying their race” if they allied with demons?? FFS.

And ofc there’s the fact that he’s condemned for the exact same type of stuff that makes Dean be hailed as a hero lmfao. Though I won’t like, I love the moment where, faced with the comparison, Dean’s response is “I might be like you, I might not. But you’re the one tied up.” I love those kinds of character moments. As of s2 I officially have a love-hate relationship with Dean Winchester, I hate it here xDD

But still, on his own, Gordon is an amazing character (it’s one of the most frustrating things about the show, the greatness tainted by the bigotry :))). Charismatic, terrifying, and ofc superbly acted. Also, I love that the fact that he praised John (as opposed to every other hunter having a rockier relationship with him) is clearly supposed to be a red flag LMFAO.

-I enjoy how the seasons delves more deeply into Sam’s ~~dark origins, since it was my fave thing about him way back when. I’m already mourning the (as I suspect) lost of his powers, ngl. There’s a little more attention in how he tends to over-identify with supernatural creatures struggling with their ~dark sides too (bitch me too, the fuck xD), which I LOVE to see (among other reasons because at least in that way we get a little of their POV in the forefront lol). One of my favourites in that sense was the episode centered around the ghost-who-didn’t-know-she-was-ghost, played by Tricia Helfer. I clocked early one what was going on, but it was still very enjoyable, especially with Sam’s empathy with her (contrasted by Dean being a total bitch about it, btw. I can’t believe I still see post about how Dean is all heart/kindness/compassion/whatever the fuck. Dean is all about selective empathy and only when it conveniences him, pls).

I was more divided on the episode with Madison the werewolf, tbh. OTOH it put Sam in a better position, for a change xD. As the one willing to make The Hard Choices by fulfilling his promise to kill her because she was dangerous, even when Dean offered to ~take the burden from him. OTOH I hate that kind of thing lol. YOU GUYS KNOW A HUNTER PRO LIKE BOBBY, I BET HE COULD’VE FIGURED OUT SOMETHING TO CONTAIN HER A FEW NIGHTS A MONTH. Also, my immediate reaction was to compare this to when my man Angel had a crush on a werelady and helped her every month lmfao. But then, very few characters can withstand a comparison with Angel, in any sense :P

I also liked Sam’s subplot with his fellow demon-psychic kids, though I wish it’d lasted longer :/ (also: RME at the queer girl dying almost immediately AND her power being killing people, her girlfriend first of all, with her touch. The black guy was the last one to die at least...?). My fave was Ava, by far. I loved her since her reaction to helping Sam stealing a psychiatrist’s records was yelling “I’M AWESOME!!”. It made it easy to buy that someone that appeared so mundane, with her easy life and her fiance and whatnot, would become so power hungry and go off the rails, IMO.

BTW: RME at Dean being all “oh Sam is going too dark/becoming to cold” when Sam kills Jake. Jake ripped off his spine and killed him first!! It both amuses me and infuriates me all the times Dean tries to push Sam to be more like himself and then freaks out whenever Sam is not all sunshine and rainbows (while still remaining, IMO, far less cold than Dean himself. Besides, it’s not easy to be colder than Dean, lol).

Lastly, a little character detail I loved was when Sam was jealous about Dean being in the federal database but not himself lmfao. 

-I loved the new foreshadowing crumb with Sam finding out Mary knew the demon, too (information he’ll withhold from Dean, which I approve of LOL). I mean, I know exactly what’s up, I’ve watched most of s4 xD (also, what is UP with this family and making deals with demons. Everyone but Sam so far!! And then HE gets dragged for ~getting too close to one smh. Maybe lead by example!! Also also: yes, it was meant to be ambiguous, but I can’t help but notice the only kiss-pact -or further, depending to how close YED was to Lilith’s levels, since to make a deal with her you have to fuck xD- we didn’t see was the one that must’ve happened between John and YED. Cowards!! xD). Still. I’m so curious about her. Her resurrection is one of the main reasons I’m determined to make it to the later seasons, ngl.

-Another thing I LOVED about this season is how they used sibling relationships to parallel/foreshadow stuff about the brothers, the way s1 did often with fathers. I’ve already mentioned Gordon and his sister, but the others are not less brutal imo: Andy having to kill his evil twin, who wanted him all for himself (... Dean is that you xD); the little girl’s ghost who wanted her grand-niece to commit suicide to stay with her, and didn’t give in until her old sister agreed to die in her place. It was chilling. Also, at one point the parallel was between the brothers and a married couple (the ghost-who-didn’t-know-she-was-a-ghost) and asñdlfkajsf. I’m guessing they had fun with the shippers lol.

Speaking of the brothers’ relationship, this season also goes a little further in escalating the violence between them, when Dean punches Sam in the face and he refuses to respond (“you can hit me all you want, it won’t change anything”. Fuck), or when Dean again punches Sam after Sam was possessed by Meg ¬¬

-Going back to my love-hate relationship with Dean, lmfao. My biggest beef remains how much validation his POV gets from the narrative, granted or not; he’s one of the most irritating cases of protagonist-centered morality and I know it’s only going to get worse smh. At least this season it feels a little more balanced than in s1, with episodes like the one where the civilian Sam had tried to keep away dies halfway through the ep because Dean allowed him to get involved, for example. Still, it grates on me xD. The continuing prison rape jokes/demonic possession rape jokes (with Meg and Sam), his general grossness with women and his lack of sympathy for non-humans even when they’re not trying to hurt anyone don’t exactly help. Also, I often see him praised for some of his political views, a lot of which I agree with (his mistrust of cops, saying convicts don’t deserve to die no matter what they do), but when contrasted with his general attitude across the show it’s really grating ngl.

But then he has such AMAZING character details thrown in, that make me appreciate him as a POV character nonetheless, as much as I often want to curb stomp the guy xD. I loved his speech about how there’s no such thing as a dignified death. I love how he refused to come near his mother’s grave, both at the beginning and at the end of the episode (this show is like, the cure to DCCW’s shows false fuzzy sentimentality istg). I love his pop-culture references, like when Sam mentions Dean always thought OJ was the murderer or Dean jokes about freeing Katie Holmes from Scientology’s cult xD (sometimes it really hits you how old this show is lol). I enjoyed his Wishverse episode, and his lines after Sam dies/he sells his soul to save him (“I had one job”, “my life can mean something”) hit HARD.

But most of all? I LOVE how and why he starts losing respect for John. It’s so fucking cold and abrupt and makes so much sense!! Like, yes, part of it is John’s message about killing Sam (... again, father of the year!), but most of all it’s about John making a pact with a demon and dying TO SAVE DEAN (and probably, simply that he died at all. That shit de-mystifies anyone). IT’S SO FUCKING GREAT TO WATCH. “He spent his life chasing that demon. He was supposed to die fighting, not making a deal with the damn thing. That was supposed to be his legacy, not this." Damn, Dean xDD. The *contempt* with which he said that killed me.

I also love his inherently atheist vision of the world (even if yes, it’s extremely funny knowing this show has canon God and angels and shit -no Jesus Christ though, which I find endlessly funny-, or that they actually meet the archangel Gabriel in disguise xD. Either way, the episode with the fake angel and its foreshadowing was hilarious), his anti-destiny stance, and that it’s him and not John who gets to kill YED.

-I liked Ellen and Jo. Not LOVED, but I liked them. I keep fearing that secondary (especially female) characters will feel empty/shallow but the show keeps proving me wrong, even with one-episode wonders, and at first I wasn’t sure about them, but I was sold quickly. Partially because of the actresses, they both had this... humanizing, endearing quality? It worked really well.  I also loved the explicit contrast between John and Ellen’s parenting styles, with Ellen wanting Jo to return to school and be safe from the hunt, and Jo wanting something different. Also, I wouldn’t ship it if you paid me, but LOL at anyone who actually buys Dean sees Jo as a ~little sister just because MEG said that rme.

This show is just REALLY good when it comes to giving depth to a character with only a couple of brush strokes, which makes it all the more frustrating when they abruptly die or disappear to never be seen again/only once more (to abruptly die!) :)))

I was less sold on Ash; he was amusing, but having a Genius Hacker TM helping them out seemed like the beginning of increasingly giving the brothers ways of deux ex machina-ing them out of problems, when one of my favourite things about the show is seeing them creatively find ways out themselves. I like when they’re competent! Like with the multitude of codes they have to improvise plans, like in the episode where with two words through a lawyer they implemented a quick scheme so that Sam would escape from a police precinct. I like that stuff.

-I’m still so bitterly jealous about the dead man’s blood hurting vampires detail. SO BITTERLY JEALOUS. I love a lot of what this show does with its lore but that little bit is the worst offender. I want it so bad xD

[alwaysmarilynmonroe]

When most people hear the name, “Veronica Lake” usually one of three things comes to mind – that incredible peek-a-boo hair, the Film Noir’s with Alan Ladd or possibly Kim Basigner playing a Miss Lake lookalike in L.A. Confidential (1997) – fun fact, she won the Best Supporting Actress Oscar for that role. Although, with Veronica’s heyday being well over half a century old, that’s sadly usually as far as it goes.

However, with the Classic Hollywood Era being hugely timeless and forever coming back into fashion, the genre is becoming less of a niché subject and more Stars are on the public radar. If you’re a long time Vintage Lover like myself, you’ll be aware that unfortunately, a lot of our favourites don’t have many books written about them, or if they do, they’ve been out of print for a number of years and can be hard to find, or very expensive. Therefore, when I came across the news that Dean Street Press were publishing a reprint of Veronica’s Autobiography, which was first released in 1969, I was absolutely ecstatic! As most who know me are probably aware of my love for Blonde Bombshells, it may not be as well known that Veronica is my other favourite, after Marilyn.

There have only been two books published on Veronica, which I must add, astounds me – and one of them is this one which was co-written by ghost writer Donald Bain, who sadly passed away in October of 2017. The other is by Jeff Lenburg and I am fortunate enough to have both. However, Lenburg’s book is fairly controversial as he takes a lot of his information from Veronica’s mother, who claims a lot of detrimental things about her daughter – yet was estranged from her for many, many years. I think it’s actually being reprinted this summer and I will read it again, but would definitely advise new fans to stick to Veronica’s own words.

The republished version of Veronica’s Autobiography features a new cover with a stunning publicity photo of her in Ramrod (1947) which was directed by her then Husband, André de Toth. The book is a shiny paperback, with a non crease format, so even when you’ve finished reading, it will be in great condition and can take pride of place on your bookshelf! At 215 pages and 27 chapters, it’s not a huge length, but definitely a substantial read and full of personal anecdotes from the Golden Age of Hollywood.

Broadcaster and writer, Eddie Muller adds a new Introduction and his following words really stuck with me, their relevancy still to this day does not go unnoticed,

“I’ll point out instead that while the public has granted Sterling Hayden, a legendary boozer and hash-head, a legacy as a heroic, larger-than-life iconoclast, it has branded Lake’s life after Hollywood a steady downward spiral of abasement, worthy of only pity. Blame a cultural double standard that applauds reckless rebellion in men but shames it in women.”

As the chapters do not have titles, I’ve decided to write down a snippet of information which sums up the pivotal points and various timelines in each section.

______________________________________________________________________________

Chapter 1:

– Starts in 1938 and traces Veronica’s move to Hollywood with her mother, step-father and cousin on the 4th of July. Veronica enrolls in the Bliss Hayden School of Acting and has her first role in a movie as an extra in RKO’s Sorority House (1939).

Chapter 2:

– Veronica’s signature peek-a-boo hairstyle is unintentionally created on the set of Forty Little Mothers (1940) by Director, Busby Berkeley who stated, “I still say let it fall. It distinguishes her from the rest”.

Chapter 3:

– Director, Freddie Wilcox sets up Veronica’s first Screen Test, whilst at home her step-father suffers a collapsed lung.

Chapter 4:

– Veronica joins the iconic William Morris Agency and recounts her knowledge of the infamous Hollywood Casting Couch and how she turned away from the many advances.

Chapter 5:

– Veronica meets her first husband, John Detlie and has her named changed by Producer, Arthur Hornblow Jr., who, after a second Screen Test, decides to cast her as Sally Vaughn in her breakout movie, I Wanted Wings (1941).

Chapter 6:

– Focuses on the location filming of I Wanted Wings (1941) from August 26th 1940 in San Antonio, Texas.

Chapter 7:

– Continues filming in Hollywood for I Wanted Wings (1941) and elopes to marry her first husband, John Detlie.

Chapter 8:

– Veronica discusses the first 8 years of her childhood and her move to Florida in her teen years and the two schools she attended in Montreal and Miami.

Chapter 9:

– Recounts various appearances in Miami Beauty Pageants as a teenager.

Chapter 10:

– Returns to 1941 with the release of I Wanted Wings (1941) and focuses on the worldwide phenomenon of the famous hair. Also finishes with Director Preston Sturges hiring Veronica for the role of The Girl in Sullivan’s Travels (1941).

Chapter 11:

Veronica shares the news of her first pregnancy with her mother and how her third trimester would coincide with the physical demands of filming Sullivan’s Travels (1941).

Chapter 12:

– Covers the filming of Sullivan’s Travels (1941) from May 12th 1941 and the revelation of Veronica’s pregnancy. It’s simply incredible when watching the film all these years later to come to the realization that she was between six to eight months pregnant!

Chapter 13: – The filming of This Gun For Hire (1942) and The Glass Key (1942).

Chapter 14:

– The filming of I Married A Witch (1942), So Proudly We Hail! (1943) and The Hour Before The Dawn (1944). Veronica also discusses the deterioration of her marriage and the tragic loss of her second baby, Anthony, who died a week after being born two months prematurely.

Chapter 15:

– Veronica divorces John and retells various anecdotes of the Hollywood Lifestyle in it’s heyday in the 1940s.

Chapter 16:

– Veronica discusses the filming of Star Spangled Rhythm (1942) and also her dating history during this period. She shares some fascinating stories of various celebrity anecdotes which include such Stars as, Errol Flynn, Katharine Hepburn, Howard Hughes and Gary Cooper.

Chapter 17:

– The filming of Bring On The Girls (1945), Duffy’s Tavern (1946) and Hold That Blonde! (1945). Veronica recalls marrying her second husband, Andre de Toth and shares a moving story from her visit to The White House in January 1945.

Chapter 18:

– The filming of Miss Susie Slagles (1946), Out Of This World (1945), Ramrod (1946), The Blue Dahlia (1946), Saigon (1947) and The Sainted Sisters (1948). Veronica and Andre expand their family as she has her third baby, a boy named Michael. She also talks about her and Andre obtaining their Pilot Licenses and how the death of her step-dad deeply affected her.

Chapter 19:

– Features a highly entertaining story of Veronica flying her plane, whilst carrying her forth child, in her fifth month of pregnancy. With her on board is her secretary Marge, who up until then had never flown before.

Chapter 20:

– Veronica gives birth to her forth baby, a girl named Diana and talks about the turmoil of her relationship with her mother, who decided to sue her for, “lack of filial love and responsibility” and over $17,000.

Chapter 21:

– The filming of Slattery’s Hurricane (1949) and Stronghold (1951). Veronica discusses her frustration with Andre’s prolific spending, which results in them filing for bankruptcy and ultimately, the deterioration of their marriage.

Chapter 22:

– Veronica moves to New York in 1951 and continues her acting career through various television appearances and the stage. She enters her third marriage to husband, Joe McCarthy, which she admits was volatile from the start and they divorce after just four years, in September 1959.

Chapter 23:

– Covers the years 1959 through to 1961. Veronica discusses her time taking a job as a cocktail waitress – which contrary to popular belief, she actually quite enjoyed. She also talks about the traumatic accident which resulted in a severely broken ankle, which caused her inability to act for two years.

Chapter 24:

– Delves into her relationship with Andy Elickson, a Merchant Seaman, who she met during her time working in the Martha Washington Hotel and focuses on the period between 1961 and 1966. She also writes about a high note in her stage career; appearing in Best Foot Forward in 1963.

Chapter 25:

– Veronica discusses her move to Miami from New York in 1966.

Chapter 26:

– The filming of Footsteps In The Snow (1966) and Flesh Feast (1970) which was then known as Time Is Terror and was originally shot in 1967.

Chapter 27:

– Ends in October 1967 with Veronica discussing her reading performance of The World of Carl Sandburg, which she describes as one of the, “finest moments” of her life.

______________________________________________________________________________

Veronica’s words are full of honesty, she does not sugar-coat her flaws and her anecdotes convey a great sense of humbleness towards her career and lots of self criticism to her talent, the latter which saddens me. I’ve noticed many of the great Stars rarely seem to have any belief in themselves. If only they could see how loved and appreciated they truly are. However, her loyalty and generosity towards her close friends and even acquaintances does not go unnoticed. It’s refreshing to see her be able to share her own story, without various opinions and conspiracies that have grown over the years being included.

Overall, there’s only two downsides that springs to mind. Firstly, as the book was originally published in 1969 and finishes at the end of 1967, we’re missing the six final years of her fascinating life and tragically nothing can be done to change this. Of course no one is at fault, it’s just a shame that those last years will remain mostly a mystery to us. It would have been wonderful to read about her time in England. Lastly, in the original edition, a number of pages featured very rare photos of Veronica throughout her years, including her own comments. Sadly, only a small version of the cover photo reappears at the end of the newly republished book. I’m assuming this is down to cost and or copyright, but it would be nice to see these rare treasures reappear in the latest edition for fans that are not fortunate enough to also own an original copy.

Ultimately, Veronica always maintains her true self and comes across as not a Screen Icon, but just like one of us – albeit with some extraordinary Hollywood stories. She’s simply, and I mean this in the most complimentary way – a human being. It’s been almost a decade since I discovered Veronica, eight years in fact and I for one have not only became even more endeared to Miss Lake, but, I have also developed a warm space in my heart for my fellow 5’2″ little lady, Miss Connie/Ronni Keane.

Lastly, a huge thank you to Dean Street Press for believing in the popularity of Veronica and so wonderfully reprinting hers and Donald Bain’s special words for us all to enjoy.

For anyone who wants to see more of Veronica, I’ve amassed a fairly large archive of photos over the years which can be viewed on my blog devoted entirely to her; missveronicalakes.

Follow me at;

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For inquiries or collaborations contact me at;

meganmonroes@icloud.com

Veronica: The Autobiography of Veronica Lake; Book Review. When most people hear the name, "Veronica Lake" usually one of three things comes to mind - …

[spn-safeandsound]

07. Dynamic Duo

Safe and Sound

Dean Winchester x Original Character

Episode: 1x11; Scarecrow

Word Count: 9,028

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence and gore

Author’s Note: Enjoy!

Masterlist in Profile Description!

Julia sat in the middle of a large field on an overcast day. It was filled with three different kinds of flowers—honeysuckle, marigold, and violets—all separated into different sections. The white, yellow, and purple flowers formed a circle around her. They reminded her of her mother.

Naomi Petersen had always been a fan of giving her daughters flowers for every holiday and birthday. There were even some days that flowers would randomly be delivered to Julia, Abby, and Beth without a reason other than for their mother to show her love. The three girls would make a game of it, looking up the meanings into the flowers Naomi sent them that day.

Honeysuckle meant bonds of love. Marigold meant despair or grief. Violets meant loyalty and faithfulness.

"Julia Ruth."

Julia looked away from the violets to her right and looked forward to where she heard the man's voice. There was no one in the field with her but the sun had started to shine. It didn't matter that there was no one there, though. She recognized the voice.

"It's you," she breathed, her lips quirking into a small smile. "It's been a long time."

Many times, while Julia was growing up, she'd have dreams like this. She wouldn't always be a field—a few times she had been in an empty classroom at Stanford or on a swing in an abandoned park—but they all had the same voice visiting her to give her guidance.

When she asked her mom about the dreams, Naomi had simply smiled and told her that he was her guardian angel.

"Eight months, five days, and thirty minutes," her angel answered.

The last time he had shown up, she was thinking about transferring to Northwestern to be closer to Beth and Levi. Her angel talked her out of it and she hadn't regretted that choice so far.

"What's wrong? You only show up when I need your guidance."

"Then you should know why I am here."

"Okay, so I need guidance," Julia assumed. "About what?"

"I cannot say much," her angel told her. "Just know that you will soon be facing some trials and tribulations, Julia Ruth."

Julia furrowed her eyebrows. "What do you mean? What trouble am I facing?"

"Trouble that will test your faith."

Julia scoffed, more confused. She was a faithful person and it took a lot for that to waiver. Even when her mother was dying, she still had faith in God and his angels. Her mother had always told her that having faith wasn't always about the good and happy times but the tough times, too.

"That really cleared it up for me. Thanks."

"Stay true to your faith, Julia Ruth," her angel ordered. "We will meet again soon."

A ringing started blare around the field, making her look around in confusion. Where was that coming from?

The sunlight had started to fade and she stood up.

"Wait!" she called to her angel over the ringing. "Wait—"

Julia groaned as Dean's phone continued to ring, rolling off of her stomach to lay on her side facing Sam. The thing seemed so loud, like Dean had purposefully turned it on full volume just to annoy her.

The phone rang again.

"Phone!" she moaned, squeezing her eyes and burying her face in her pillow.

"Dean."

Julia opened her eyes, about to pick up the phone and whip it at Dean's peaceful face, when Sam wearily grabbed it off the table in between the beds. He flipped it open, his eyes still shut, and lazily pressed it to his ear.

"Hello?" there was a pause as whoever was calling Dean spoke; Sam sat up in shock, suddenly awake. "Dad? Are you hurt?"

Julia's eyes widened in surprise and she sat up as well, making sure her tank-top fully covered her breasts.

"We've been looking for you everywhere," Sam told his father, glancing over at a stirring Dean. "We didn't know where you were or if you were okay."

Julia studied Sam's face, taking in his eager expression. She was glad that John had called; it had been months—or in Sam's case, years—since the brothers heard from him. They had been so worried.

"Well, we're fine," Sam stated. "Dad, where are you?"

Dean sat up, fully awake, his blanket falling down to his hips to reveal his bare chest.

"What? Why not?" Sam questioned John.

"Is that Dad?" Dean asked Sam. Julia leaned around Sam so he could see her and nodded, silently answering his question. His face lit up.

Sam's face fell in realization at whatever John said. "You're after it, aren't you? The thing that killed Mom...A demon? You know for sure?"

Julia raised her eyebrows at Sam as Dean pulled on the shirt he discarded before falling asleep. So, it was a demon who killed Mary and Jess...she wondered how John figured that out.

"A demon?" Dean leaned forward anxiously. "What's he saying?"

"You know where it is?" Sam said into the phone. "Let us help...Why not?"

Dean reached toward Sam expectantly, irritated with his lack of answers. "Give me the phone."

"Names? What names, Dad?" Sam's face contorted in aggravation. "Talk to me, tell me what's going on?"

Julia bit her lip and clasped her hands together tightly as Sam stiffened, his anger growing as John continued speaking.

"No," he said firmly. "All right? No way."

"Give me the phone!" Dean raised his voice at him. When Sam angrily pursed his lips, looking like he was about to blow a gasket, Dean grabbed the phone away from him. "Dad, it's me. Where are you?"

Julia grabbed Sam's clenched fists as John answered Dean, rubbing her thumb against the back of one of them to calm him down. He always got so angry with his dad; it had been that way for most of his life.

"Yes, sir," Dean agreed to whatever John said, swallowing harshly; he reached for the pen on the nightstand. "Uh-huh, yeah, I got a pen. What are their names?"

-

"So, where are you now?" Julia's older sister, Abby, asked through the phone.

"Uh, hold on," Julia leaned forward to look at Dean, who was shockingly sitting in the passenger seat. "Dean, where are we headed again?"

"Some town in Indiana," Dean grumbled back absentmindedly, tapping on the keyboard of Sam's computer to continue his research into the names John had given him.

"We're on our way to Indiana," Julia reported back to her sister.

"Oh, yeah? For what?"

"We have no idea yet," she sighed. "What about you?"

"I'm in Point Pleasant, Virginia," Abby informed her.

Julia furrowed her eyebrows. "Isn't that the town that obsessed with Mothman?"

Abby laughed. "You bet it is."

"What the hell are you doing there?"

"Hunting Mothman."

"No, you're not."

"I am."

"No, you're not, Abby. Be serious."

"I'm completely serious, Jules," Abby stated. "I saw it with my own two eyes."

Julia was silent for a few seconds and then, "Are you fucking kidding me?" she almost screeched. "You're legitimately hunting Mothman?"

That caught Dean's attention; he turned around with wide eyes. "Abby's hunting Mothman?"

Julia nodded. "She's hunting Mothman."

"How the fuck did she know that he's actually real?"

"Dean wants to know how you found out he's real," Julia told Abby.

"I went to Point Pleasant because I saw some reports about hearts being missing from some of the recent murders taking place," Abby explained. "I thought it was a werewolf but then I realized that the cycle isn't right."

"Uh-huh," Julia hummed and Dean gave her an expectant look; she held up her index finger. "Go on."

"So, I checked it out, anyway, just in case," Abby continued. "And apparently, one of the newest tours they're giving is telling their customers that Mothman eats hearts."

"Well, how would they know that?"

"They don't, that's my point," Abby said. "Someone messed around and created a Tulpa."

"What's a Tulpa?"

"It's a physical materialization of a thought," Dean told her at the same time as Abby, looking ecstatic. Even Sam stopped his bitch face for a few seconds to look impressed. "Wow, I can't believe she's hunting a Tulpa of Mothman. Tell her to take a picture."

"Dean wants you to take a picture," Julia told her sister, rolling her eyes at him.

Abby laughed. "I'll try my best."

"Be careful, okay?" Julia told her as Dean turned back around to focus on his research again. "Love you."

"You too," Abby echoed her affections. "Talk to ya later."

Julia hummed and hung up her phone, tossing it onto the seat next to her.

"Some people have all the luck," Dean muttered, completely dismayed that they were heading to Indiana instead of Virginia to kill Mothman.

"Well, it's not really Mothman if it's just a Tulpa," Sam pointed out.

"Whatever," Dean rolled his eyes.

Sam sighed. "All right," he changed the subject, his jaw clenched. "the names Dad gave us, they're all couples?"

Dean nodded. "Three different couples. All of them went missing."

"And they're all from different towns, different states?"

"That's right," Dean confirmed for him. "Washington, New York, Colorado...Each couple took a road trip cross-country. None of them arrived at their destination and none of them were ever heard from again."

"The continental US is huge, though," Julia reminded him. "I mean, what if they just changed their destination?"

"Maybe but each one's route took them to the same part of Indiana," Dean informed her. "Always on the second week of April. One year after another after another."

"This is the second week of April."

Dean nodded at his brother. "Yep."

"So, Dad is sending us to Indiana to go hunting for something before another couple vanishes?"

"Yahtzee," Dean confirmed. "Can you imagine putting together a pattern like this? All the different orbits Dad had to go through? The man's a master."

Sam pursed his lips, looking severely annoyed, and pressed on the breaks. He veered toward the shoulder of the road, making Dean give him a confused look.

"What are you doing?"

"We're not going to Indiana," Sam declared.

"We're not?"

"No," Sam turned off the engine. "We're going to California. Dad called from a payphone with a Sacramento area code."

Oh, no, Julia thought. A fight was bound to break out now. Sam hated following John's orders, especially when it had something to do with the thing that killed Mary and Jess—a demon, she reminded herself—and Dean always followed his orders. It had been the cause of many arguments before and it would cause more in the future.

"Sam—"

"Dean, if this demon killed Mom and Jess and Dad's closing in, we've gotta be here," Sam cut him off. "We've gotta help."

"Dad doesn't want out help," Dean stated.

Sam turned to face him, retorting, "I don't care."

"He's given us an order."

"I don't care," Sam emphasized slowly. "We don't always have to do what he says."

"Sam, Dad is asking us to work jobs, to save lives," Dean reminded his brother, his voice and eyes hardening. "It's important."

"All right, I understand. Believe me, I understand," Sam tried to change his mind. "But I'm talking one week here, man, to get answers. To get revenge."

"All right, look, I know how you feel—"

"Do you?" Sam retorted; Dean gave him a shocked look and Julia's eyes widened. "How old were you when Mom died? Four? Jess died six months ago. How the fuck would you know how I feel?"

Julia gaped at him, surprised that Sam would say anything like that. "Sam!"

"Dad said it wasn't safe for any of us!" Dean raised his voice back. "I mean, he obviously knows something that we don't, so if he says to stay away, we stay away."

Sam scoffed. "I don't understand the blind faith you have in the man," he shook his head. "I mean, it's like you don't even question him."

"Yeah, it's called being a good fucking son!"

"Dean!"

God, both of them were idiots.

Sam took the keys out of the starter and opened his door, sliding out of the car. He went straight to the trunk and opened it, grabbing his bags. Julia and Dean both got out of the car at the same time for different reasons—Dean wanted to argue and Julia wanted to stop Sam before he started hitchhiking to California.

"You're a selfish bastard, you know that?" Dean cursed at his brother. "You just do whatever you want. You don't care what anybody thinks."

Sam shrugged on his backpack, glaring at him. "That's what you really think?"

"Yes, it is."

"Well, then this selfish bastard is going to California," Sam grabbed his duffel bag and slammed the trunk shut.

"Sam, no, you can't leave," Julia protested, lunging forward to grab his arm as he started walking away; he shrugged out of her hold. "Sam, come on."

Dean scoffed in disbelief as Sam ignored her, continuing to walk away. "You're not serious."

"I am serious."

"Sam, it's the middle of the night!" Julia's eyes started stinging as she watched her best friend walk away from them.

He didn't respond.

"Hey, I'm taking off," Dean warned him loudly. "I will leave your ass, you hear me?"

Sam turned around, clenching his jaw, to answer, "That's what I want you to do."

Dean was quiet for a few seconds and Julia was hoping he'd just apologize so Sam would get back in the car, but he shook his head. "Goodbye, Sam."

"Dean—"

"Get in the fucking car, Julia," Dean snapped at her, pulling the keys from the trunk's lock and walking around to the driver's side. "Let's go."

Julia bit her lip and looked back at Sam with wet eyes, meeting his gaze. He just nodded at the car, knowing that she didn't want to choose. It wasn't like this was going to be forever, anyway—it was just until he found his dad.

"Julia!"

Julia jumped at Dean's exclamation and gave Sam a sad smile before opening her door and sliding back into her seat. He started up the engine as soon as her door closed and pressed harshly on the gas, propelling them forward. Julia didn't look back at Sam; she never walked away from him before and the guilt threatened to swallow her.

-

Burkittsville, Indiana was of the smallest towns Julia had ever seen. It consisted of maybe four or five roads with one restaurant, one general store, and one gas station. She didn't know that if the main part of town was always this dead, but she hoped it was the rain and not their everyday life. There was not a single person in sight.

Dean parked at the side of the road—it was actually more of a paved trail more than anything—and pulled his cellphone out of his pocket. Julia eyed him hesitantly, watching as he opened the phone and scrolled through his contacts until he stopped at Sam's name.

He hesitated for a second, his thumb hovering over the call button, and then flipped the phone shut.

"You should call him."

In the hours since they had driven away from Sam, Dean had calmed down considerably. In fact, Julia thought that he wasn't mad at all now. He had apologized for yelling at her only thirty minutes after they took off and she could feel the regret coming off of him in waves. She figured that it had more to do with Sam than it had to do with him raising his voice at her.

Dean's green eyes flicked up to hers as he pursed his lips. He shut off the engine and pulled the keys from the starter. "I'm not gonna call him," he stated before getting out of the car. "Let's go."

Julia slid out of the passenger seat and followed him down the sidewalk to the main road, thankful that she had dressed in a navy windbreaker to ward off the rain and slight breeze. "Why don't you wanna call him?"

"I don't wanna talk about it, Junior."

Julia glanced at a lady who passed by them with an umbrella, glad that someone actually lived in this town, and then back at him. "Dean."

"Can you just drop it for now?" Dean gave her a firm yet almost-pleading look. "I wanna ask this guy about the people who disappeared."

He pointed to the restaurant they were walking toward; she followed his gaze, spotting an old man sitting outside of a cute little place called Scotty's Café.

"Fine, okay."

They continued walking toward the café, coming to a stop a few feet from where the man was sitting.

"Let me guess," Dean greeted, looking down at the sour-looking man. "Scotty."

Scotty nodded, not looking happy about the fact that they stopped to talk to him.

"Hi, my name's John Bonham and this is—"

"Isn't that the drummer for Led Zeppelin?" Scotty interrupted his introduction.

Dean looked taken aback by the man's knowledge—as if Zeppelin wasn't a popular band or something. "Wow," he muttered. "Classic rock fan."

Julia pressed her lips together and turned back to Scotty. "I'm Lyla Johnson," she made up a random name, hoping that there wasn't some old celebrity who used to be popular that she didn't know about. "Nice to meet you."

Scotty didn't look impressed with either of them��this time Julia was taken aback. Usually almost every man she smiled at melted at the sight of her. "What can I do for you, Lyla?"

Julia looked at Dean, stumped, and his mouth straightened slightly into a grimace. He pulled out the pictures they had printed of the last victims, Vince and Holly Parker.

"We were wondering if you'd seen these people by chance," he unfolded the papers and gave them to Scotty so he could take a look.

"Nope," Scotty hardly looked at the photos. "Who are they?"

"Vince and Holly Parker," Julia said flatly; the names were the largest things written on the damn pictures. "They're friends of ours. They went missing last year and they passed through somewhere around here."

"We've already asked around Scottsburg and Salem—"

"Sorry," Scotty handed the papers back to Dean. Julia scowled down at him—if this guy interrupts us one more time... "We don't get many strangers around here."

Did Scotty know how suspicious he came off as right now? He might as well have a neon sign above his head proclaiming that he killed the couple himself. His answers were too avoidant and rehearsed.

Julia just did not like his vibe.

"Scotty, you've got a smile that lights up a room," Dean stated almost mockingly. "Anybody ever tell you that?"

Scotty's frown never left his stupid face.

"Never mind," Dean chuckled at his own sarcasm. "We'll see you around."

They walked away from the café, heading down the street toward Jorgeson Motors and Jorgeson General Store, which happened to be the town's only store and gas pump. Usually small towns were cute but this one made Julia want to curl up into a ball and cry her eyes out. She would be so bored if she lived here.

"I never want to see that man again," she muttered to Dean, shuddering dramatically.

"If I ever get as grumpy as that old bastard, I want you to shoot me," he agreed with her. "and he definitely knew something."

"Oh, I know," Julia rolled her eyes. "He had the strangest energy, too."

"Like what?"

"It's hard to explain, but," her nose wrinkled as she tried to find words that would make sense. "Okay, you know how Dumbledore's all about the greater good and all that?"

Dean nodded and hummed.

"But he doesn't really care about Harry's well-being as long as he's there to save the wizarding world," she continued. "That's the vibe I got from Scotty."

"Like that little fuckwad from Shrek," Dean understood and quoted the animated movie, "Some of you will die but that's the risk I'm willing to take."

"Yes!" she tapped him excitedly on the arm. "Wow, I can't believe you've seen Shrek!"

"It was on one night while I couldn't sleep," Dean explained as they approached the store; he pulled open the door and stepped back, letting her in before him. "It really shouldn't have been marketed for kids."

"Oh, yeah, definitely."

"Hi, there!" they were instantly greeted by a chipper older woman that was bundled up in a cozy cardigan. "I'm Stacy, what can I do for you folks?"

"Oh, we were just stopping by for a few minutes to stretch our legs," Dean told her as he snaked an arm around Julia's waist, surprising her. "We're on our honeymoon."

Julia looked at him in shock but changed her expression as Stacy cooed at them. "Oh, how wonderful!"

"Yeah," Julia smiled sweetly at her and grabbed the hand that Dean had resting on her upper hip, pinching him subtly. "We're so in love."

Dean rolled his eyes at her awkwardness and Stacy's smile faltered only a little bit.

"Well," her smile widened again. "Why don't you two take some apple pie for your trip? It's on the house."

Dean was very, very tempted by the offer for pie but he had to focus. Especially if Julia was going to act like an idiot who had never been in a relationship before.

"Actually," he pulled out the photos of Vince and Holly Parker, showing them to her. "we were wondering if you've seen our friends lately. They went missing about a year ago and we know they went through here..."

Stacy's smile instantly slipped from her face. A man walked out of the back room, then, slipped around the counter to see what was going on.

"What about who?" he asked curiously, though he seemed a little nervous.

"We're looking for some people," Dean handed him the photos. "Have you seen them?

The man studied the papers and shook his head. "No, I don't think so."

"Really?" Dean raised a skeptical eyebrow. Everyone they had seen so far were acting so suspicious and sweet old Stacy flipped her tune real quick. "You sure they didn't stop for gas or something?"

"Nope, don't remember them," the man confirmed. "You said they were friends of yours?"

"Best of friends," Julia nodded sweetly. At least her smile worked on him. "Holly and I grew up together."

A young blonde girl, around Julia's age, walked out from behind the counter carrying a stack of printed boxes. "Did the guy have a tattoo?"

"Yeah, he did."

The girl took the papers from the man. "Don't you remember, Uncle Harley?" she asked him. "They were just married."

"Oh, you're right, Emily," Harley suddenly remembered. "They did stop for gas. Weren't here for more than ten minutes."

God, these people needed acting coaches, Julia thought, how many people in this town are gonna cover for a couple of disappearances?

Clearly something was going on here and it wasn't just because the man all of a sudden remembered a couple just because his niece did. Julia got the same vibes from Harley and Stacy that she got from Scotty.

Dean raised his eyebrows. "You remember anything else?

"I told them how to get back on the interstate," Harley gave the papers back to Dean. "They left town."

"Can you point us in that same direction?" Dean wondered.

Harley nodded. "Sure."

-

Julia frowned at the apple orchard in front of them. It had to be the creepiest little orchard, ever—the apple trees looked like they came out of a Tim Burton movie, some of the grass was dead, and the only thing that had color in the whole area were the apples on the ground and in the trees. It wasn't even apple season, so how the trees had apples to begin with, she didn't know.

They were driving down the interstate in the direction that Harley sent them when all of the sudden, the EMF meter started lighting up and buzzing. It had come out of nowhere so Dean had pulled over. Of course, because she was that lucky, the EMF led them to the orchard.

If she could guess what was making the EMF go off, it'd be the creepy ass scarecrow propped up in the middle of the orchard.

"What crows eat apples?" she muttered as she and Dean slowly walked toward the scarecrow. "Apples aren't even in season, Dean."

"Tell me about it," Dean muttered bitterly as he looked up at the scarecrow. None of the pieces of apple pie he had recently were very good. Fall was the peak apple pie season. "Dude, you are fucking ugly."

Julia rolled her eyes and blanched when she saw that the scarecrow had a scythe in its hand. "Why the hell would a scarecrow be armed with that?"

Dean hummed, his eyes searching the scarecrow up and down. He paused a little when he spotted something that looked familiar on the arm with the scythe. He turned to the ladder next to the closest apple tree and picked it up, bringing it back over to the scarecrow.

Julia grimaced as he climbed the ladder, hoping that the thing wouldn't suddenly come alive and slice his head off. That would be horrific for everyone involved.

Dean reached toward the arm he wanted to get a closer look at and pulled by the sleeve. "You see that?" he asked Julia, nodding at the tattoo on the scarecrow's arm. "It's the tattoo."

Julia stood on her tip toes to get a better look. "The same tattoo as Vince Parker."

Dean pursed his lips and crawled down the ladder. "The very one."

They got into the Impala and drove back to Burkittsville, deciding that they needed to question the girl that seemed to be the only one who was telling the truth in the whole town.

"Okay, so, a couple goes missing every year around the same time like clockwork in the same place," Julia hummed, resting her head against the passenger window. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Dean nodded. "Human sacrifice."

"Yep," Julia sighed and lifted her head to look at him. "So, I'm thinking a Pagan or Norse god."

Dean glanced at her, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. "I thought you didn't believe in that stuff?"

"I believe that different types of gods exist," Julia shrugged. "I'd be ignorant not to, especially when my dad has had run-ins with a couple of them."

The most notable story she heard from her dad was the Trickster run-in, of course.

"But you're a Christian."

"Because I believe that my God is the main God," Julia explained. "With a capital 'G'. The one who rules over the universe."

"Hmm..." Dean nodded thoughtfully as they rolled back into the town limits. "So, you believe in Evolution?"

Julia laughed. "Yes, Dean, I believe in Evolution."

Dean sighed in relief. "Thank the lord you're not a kook."

She shook her head, smiling fondly. "Thanks, D. I appreciate it."

"No problem, shortcake."

There was a red SUV parked outside of Jorgeson Motors when they approached. Dean pulled off to the gas pump at the side of the road. To their immense luck, Emily was already outside the shop.

"You're back," she greeted them kindly as they got out of the Impala.

"Never left."

"You're still looking for your friends?" she buried her hands in her red hoodie.

Dean nodded as Julia leaned against the car. "You mind filling her up, there, Emily?" she nodded and grabbed the hose from the pump, inserting it into the tank. "So, you grow up here?"

"I came here when I was thirteen," Emily told them. "I lost my parents to a car accident. My aunt and uncle took me in."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Julia gave her a sympathetic smile; Emily gave her a grateful look. "Your aunt and uncle were nice."

Well, they were until they mentioned the missing people, anyway.

"Everybody's nice here."

"So, what, it's the perfect little town?" Dean asked skeptically.

Emily didn't catch his tone. "Well, you know, it's the boonies," she shrugged. "but I love it. I mean, the towns around us, people are losing their homes, their farms. But here? It's almost like we're blessed."

Julia raised her eyebrows. Blessed. Ripe apples in early spring, a scarecrow, a couple sacrificed every year, and a town that seemed to flourish in a recession? Something tugged on the back of her mind but she couldn't remember what the exact information was.

"Hey, have you been out to the orchard?" Dean asked her suddenly; Emily nodded. "You seen the scarecrow?"

Emily scoffed softly. "Yeah, it creeps me out."

"I thought I was the only one," Julia chuckled in comradery. "Do you know who owns it?"

"I have no idea," Emily shrugged. "It's just always been there."

Julia nodded in understanding as Emily took the hose from the tank and put it back in the pump.

"Is that your aunt and uncles?" Dean gestured to the red SUV with his head.

Emily shook her head. "A customer's," she corrected him. "had some car troubles."

"It's not a couple, is it?" Dean asked hurriedly. "A man and a woman?"

Emily nodded in confirmation.

"Are they around?" Dean hesitated before continuing, "eating at Scotty's, maybe?"

"It's the only restaurant in town," Emily told them like it wasn't obvious. "Famous for their apple pie."

They paid for the gas and thanked Emily for her help before making an excuse to stop into Scotty's Café. The couple were the only people in the café when they arrived, besides Scotty, who was serving them two plates of warm apple pie.

"Hey, Scotty," Dean greeted the older man like a friend—if that friend was a guy who was most likely sacrificing a couple each year for some god. "can we get a black coffee and a sweet tea?"

Scotty gave them an unhappy look as they walked over to one of the empty tables next to the couple.

"Oh, and some of that pie, too, while you're at it?" Dean called to Scotty before he could disappear into the kitchen. If it was any other server than Scotty, Julia would have scolded him for being so rude.

Julia nudged him in the back, silently urging him to sit down. She took the chair facing with the back facing the kitchen and Dean took the seat to her left.

"How ya doing?" he greeted the couple casually. "Just passing through?"

The woman nodded enthusiastically. "Road trip."

"Yeah, us, too," Dean hummed.

Scotty emerged from the kitchen with a pitcher of cider. He walked over to the couple's table and refilled their glasses. When he finished, he gave Dean a stern look. "I'm sure these people want to eat in peace."

"Just a little friendly conversation," Dean said innocently while Julia narrowed her eyes into a glare. "Oh, and that coffee and tea, too, man. Thanks."

"So," Julia spoke up, flashing the couple a smile in an attempt to counter Dean's enthusiasm. "what brings you to town?"

"We just stopped for gas," the woman told her. "The guy at the gas station saved our lives."

She raised a curious eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yeah, one of our brake lines was leaking," the guy stated. "We had no idea. He's fixing it for us now."

"Nice people," Dean cocked his head suspiciously; the man nodded. "So, how long until you're up and running?"

"Sundown."

"Really? To fix a break line?" the man nodded at Dean's question. "Well, you know, I know a thing or two about cars. I could probably have you up and running in about an hour. I wouldn't charge you anything."

The man wrinkled his nose and turned to his wife for help. The woman fixed Dean with a polite, if not a little standoffish, smile. "You know, thanks a lot, but I think we'd rather have a mechanic do it."

"Sure," Dean smiled slightly in agreement and paused, leaning in a little toward their table. "You know, it's just that these roads, they're not real safe at night."

"I'm sorry?"

Julia got the sense that they were creeped out now. "He means any roads at night," she rolled her eyes in amusement and sent them a friendly smile. "He's a bit of a safety nerd. Hazards of being a traffic cop, right, babe?"

She was getting a little better at this couple talk, Dean admitted to himself, a lot less awkward than before. He backed off of the couple at her pointed glare and straightened in his seat. When he saw that the couple had gone back to eating and not looking at him like he was a weirdo, he sighed.

"You and Sam gotta teach me that puppy-eyed look," he grumbled, picking up a sugar packet from the middle of the table.

"You wouldn't be able to master it," she told him quietly, her lips pulled up into a smug smile. "It's the brown eyes and dimples. You stick to that charming smile, huh?"

Dean playfully rolled his eyes at her.

"Thanks for coming, Sheriff," Scotty spoke loudly from the counter as the door to the café opened. A man, who Julia guessed was the town's only police officer, walked into the restaurant. He crossed the room and spoke quietly with the man.

Julia and Dean shared a look as the sheriff walked over to their table.

"I'd like a word, please," the man requested stiffly.

"Actually, we were just leaving," Julia stood up and pushed her chair in; Dean followed her lead, glaring at the man. "So, unless you have probable cause to detain us legally, we'd like to get out of town before dark."

The sheriff's face hardened considerably but Julia and Dean walked past him and out of the restaurant. As they drove out of town, he tailed them to make sure they wouldn't come back.

Dean looked in the rear view, where he could still see the cruiser, and chuckled quietly.

"What?" Julia asked him curiously.

"That was badass back there," he told her. "How'd you know all that?"

"Beth's a lawyer remember?" she reminded him. "I used to help her study for her finals."

"So, you know all that legal bullshit?"

"Not all of it but, yeah," she shrugged. "I know some."

"Not gonna lie, Jules, that's kinda sexy."

Julia sighed in amusement when he smirked at her. "Oh, Dean...what are we gonna do with you?"

-

"Have you found anything yet?" Dean groaned from his bed, lazily turning his head toward the table where Julia sat with her laptop, researching Pagan gods.

After the sheriff stopped following them out of town, they waited at the orchard for the couple they met at the restaurant. Both of them had a pretty good idea that their car was gonna break down right around there and they would be the god's yearly dinner. They happened to be right; a half-hour after the sun set, they spotted the red SUV come to a stop at the side of the road in front of the orchard.

After saving the couple, they drove them to the nearest town, Scottsburg, and told them to make sure that they stayed out of Burkittsville. The couple and Julia and Dean got rooms at the same motel and in the morning, Dean went back to the orchard with the man and fixed up their SUV so they could get the hell out of dodge.

So, now Julia was stuck in the room with a miserable Dean, researching different fertility gods that could be animating the scarecrow.

"Maybe if you helped me..." she hinted flatly.

"That's not how this works, shortcake," Dean sighed, rolling onto his stomach with his head at the foot of the bed. "I'm the muscles, you're the brain."

"What's Sam, then?"

"When Sam was with us you were the beauty and he was the brains," Dean answered simply, his green eyes dimming at the mention of his brother. "You wanna watch a movie? Let's watch a movie."

"Dean," Julia sighed as he turned on the television.

"Oh, look, Forrest Gump is on," Dean said to avoid the conversation he just knew she wanted to have. "You're a Tom Hanks fan, right?"

"Well, yeah, but—" she paused, not allowing herself to become distracted. "No, you're not gonna distract me."

"I'm not trying to distract you."

"Sure, you aren't."

"What do you want me to say?" Dean huffed, jumping off the bed to start pacing the length of the room. "That I was a jackass to my little brother? I already know that."

"I wasn't going to say that, Dean," Julia crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair.

Dean gave her a doubtful look. "What were you gonna say then?"

"I was gonna say that you're an idiot," Julia told him; when he sent her a glare, she continued, "but so is Sam. You guys have conflicting personalities so it's not a surprise that you guys rub elbows sometimes."

"That's what brothers do," he crossed the room, feeling a little better that she called Sam an idiot too, and sat in the chair across from her.

"I know that. I'm just saying...just because you fight doesn't mean that you'll never see him again," she smiled at him. "Even when we were at Stanford, Sam talked about you all the time. You do the same thing."

"I do not," Dean grumbled, the tips of his ears turning pink with embarrassment.

"Yeah, you do," she said matter-of-factly. "When we met up for your birthday last year you asked about him before you even said hi."

"Well, that's—"

"And then you asked me whether or not he was doing well in school," she smirked at him. "and you didn't want to go near my apartment because you didn't want to make Sam uncomfortable."

Dean pressed his lips firmly together, looking uncomfortable with what she was saying.

"And that's okay, Dean," she leaned forward and reached across the table, placing her hand on his right fist. "You raised Sam and with your dad gone right now, he's your only blood left."

The corners of his lips quirked, making the dimples above them pop out. "I miss him, okay?" he admitted. "And I feel like absolute shit for what I said to him."

"So, call him," Julia urged, taking her hand back and nodding at his phone he left on the table when they entered the room earlier that morning. "Tell him what's going on."

"How about you tell me what you found, first," Dean grinned crookedly. "and, then, I will give him a call."

"Okay," she instantly gave in. "So, I did some research about gods of fertility."

"As in...?"

"No," Julia denied quickly and moved on, "I mean like crop fertility and all that stuff. There's different gods in different cultures. In Norse mythology, there's Thor and Freyr, in Greek mythology it's Aphaea and Demeter, in Roman mythology it's Robigus."

"Okay, so that's why there's apples in spring," Dean guessed. "and why the town is still in business while everything around it dies."

"Exactly," Julia nodded. "and at the basis of fertility, whether it's agricultural or reproductive—"

"A sacrifice of a male and female," Dean finished for her. "So, you were right about Scotty. He's Farquaad."

"Yep," Julia typed into her computer, looking at the address of an ideology professor at a local college. "I emailed a local professor and asked him if he had time to answer some questions. We're meeting with him at two."

"Good work, shortcake. You're getting better at this," Dean tapped the table for emphasis. "Come on, we have time for lunch."

"And for you to call Sam," she reminded him, standing up to grab her Stanford crewneck to slip over her head.

"Yeah, yeah, I know."

After they stopped for lunch, they started heading toward the local community college located on the other side of Scottsburg. While driving, Dean called Sam and was surprised that he actually answered. He quickly gave him the rundown of what happened with the couple the night before, causing Sam to pause for a few seconds.

"The scarecrow climbed off its cross?" he asked in shock.

"Yeah, I'm telling ya," Dean sighed, shaking his head. "Burkittsville, Indiana. Fun town."

"It didn't kill the couple, did it?"

"No, we can cope without you, you know," Dean shot the phone an annoyed look but Julia knew that he wasn't annoyed at all. She could tell by the gleam in his green eyes.

"So, something must be animating it," Sam said thoughtfully. "A spirit, maybe."

"We think it's more than that," Julia spoke up, glad that Dean put the call on speakerphone. "It might be a Pagan god."

"What makes you say that?"

"The annual cycle of the killings and the fact that the victims are always a man and a woman—like some kind of fertility rite," Dean explained. "And you should see the locals and the way they treated this couple. They were fattening them up like a Christmas turkey."

"The last meal," Sam offered. "Given to sacrificial victims."

"We're thinking a ritual sacrifice to appease some Pagan god."

"The god animates the scarecrow and the scarecrow takes its sacrifice," Julia stated. "For another year, the crops won't wilt and disease won't spread."

Sam hummed. "Do you know which god you're dealing with?"

"Not yet but I think I've narrowed it down a little," Julia sighed. "We have an appointment with a professor at a local community college."

"We wouldn't have to go if we had the brains of the team back," Dean hinted.

Sam caught it and laughed lightly. "You know, if you're hinting you need my help, just ask."

"I'm not hinting anything," Dean lied and then hesitated, looking over at Julia; she nodded encouragingly. "Actually, uh...I want you to know—I mean, I don't think that—"

"Yeah," Sam took mercy on Dean's inability to express his emotions outright. "I'm sorry, too."

"Sam, you were right," Dean admitted. "You gotta do your own thing. You gotta live your own life."

"Are you serious?" they could hear the surprise in his voice.

"You've always known what you want and you go for it," Dean said seriously. "You stand up to Dad and you always have. Hell, I wish...anyway, I admire that about you. I'm proud of you, Sammy."

Julia smiled and turned her head to look out the window, her eyes filling with tears. She was such a sap. She was one of those people who were cursed to cry when they were sad, happy, and angry. It made it hard to have a serious argument when you suddenly burst into tears—she knew that from experience.

Sam was kind of speechless at Dean's confession. "I don't even know what to you say."

"Say you'll take care of yourself."

"I will," Sam promised.

"Call us when you find Dad."

"Call us if you don't," Julia added, swallowing thickly to hide her tears.

Both Sam and Dean knew that she was crying. They all knew each other way too well.

"Okay," Sam said quietly, a hint of sadness in his voice. "Bye, Dean. Bye, J."

-

"It's not every day I get a research question on Pagan ideology," Professor Jenkins stated as he led Julia and Dean to his office.

"Well, we're in our last semester at Stanford," Julia told him. "We're partnered on a thesis about how Christianity took over the trend of Pagan ideals and practices."

"But you said you were interested in local lore?" he gave her an interested look.

She nodded with a dimpled smile.

"Well, I'm afraid that Indiana isn't really know for its Pagan worship," Professor Jenkins said apologetically.

"Well, what if it was imported?" Dean spoke up. "You know, like the Pilgrims brought their religion over. Wasn't a lot of this area settled by immigrants?"

"Well, yeah..."

"Like the town near her, Burkittsville," Dean added. "Where are their ancestors from?"

Professor Jenkins pressed his lips together thoughtfully. "Uh, northern Europe, I believe. Scandinavia."

"So, the Norse gods," Julia hummed.

"There are hundreds of Norse gods and goddesses," Professor Jenkins confirmed.

"We're actually looking for one," Dean told him. "It might live in an orchard."

"Woods god, huh?" Professor Jenkins turned down a short hallway and opened one of the two doors. He let them into his office and walked right over to a large book on Pagan ideology that he took out ahead of their appointment. "Well, let's see."

Professor Jenkins leafed through the pages carefully. Dean stopped him when he saw a drawing of a scarecrow in the middle of a flourishing field. "Wait, wait, what's that one?"

"Oh, that's not a woods god, per se..."

Dean squinted as he read the title of the chapter. "The V-Vanir?" Professor Jenkins nodded and he read on, "The Vanir were Norse gods of protection and prosperity, keeping local settlements safe from harm. Some villages built effigies of the Vanir in their fields. Other villages practiced human sacrifice. One male and one female..."

"Freyr is a Vanir," Julia supplied. "and so are Freya, Odin, and Thor..."

"Correct," Professor Jenkins confirmed.

"Do you know if Freyr took human sacrifices?" she asked him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I-I'm not sure."

Dean pointed to the Vanir on the page. "Looks like a scarecrow, doesn't it?"

"Well, I suppose," Professor Jenkins chuckled awkwardly.

Dean continued to read, "This particular Vanir that's energy sprung from the sacred tree."

"Well, Pagans believe all sorts of things were infused with magic."

"So, what would happen if the sacred tree was torched? You think it'd kill the god?"

"Son, these are just legends we're discussing," Professor Jenkins laughed slightly. "I thought your thesis is on Pagan ideals and practices?"

"It is," Julia nodded with a grateful smile. "Professor Jenkins, thank you so much for your help."

Professor Jenkins shook the hand Dean was offering. "My pleasure."

The two of them went to leave the office. When Julia opened the door, the butt of a gun was forced against her forehead, instantly knocking her out.

-

When Julia came to, she was being tied to an apple tree.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," she groaned loudly, glaring up at Harley and Stacy, who were finishing up her ropes. "I am not about to be sacrificed when apples aren't even in season!"

"You don't have to worry about that for much longer," Stacy hushed her with a harsh glare.

"How many people have you killed, Sheriff?" she heard Dean ask. She whipped her head to the right and saw that he was being tied to his own tree a couple feet away from her. "How much blood is on your hands?"

"We don't kill them," the sheriff defended him and his neighbors.

"Oh, and accessory to murder is so much better?" Julia scoffed, wincing as Stacy harshly tightened the ropes around her wrist. "Take it easy, grand—"

She was slapped before she could even finish her warning. "Son of a bitch!"

"You okay, Jules?" Dean called as Stacy and Harley backed away from her tree.

"I'm peachy, Dean."

"Good," he turned his attention back on the sheriff. "How many cars have you hidden or clothes you've buried?"

"That's none of your concern," the sheriff spat.

The four elders started walking away from their trees, toting their shotguns with them.

"I hope your apple pie is fucking worth it!" Dean shouted after them.

A half-hour passed as they were stuck there, the sun starting to set. There was still a little bit of light left in the sky when Emily appeared. She pressed her finger to her lips at the confused looks they gave her, telling them to be quiet as she carefully walked over to them.

She knelt in front of Dean, pulling a pair of scissors out of her sweater pocket.

"You didn't know anything about this, did you?" he asked her as she started sawing at the thick ropes wrapped around his wrists.

"The scarecrow god?" she scoffed quietly. "No. I overheard my aunt and uncle talk about it earlier. They said they were gonna use you guys as the sacrifices."

"Thanks for helping," Julia sighed gratefully as Dean pulled his wrists, snapping through the rest of the rope.

"What's the plan?" Emily asked her and Dean.

"We can destroy the scarecrow but we gotta find the tree."

"What tree?"

"It would be really old," Dean explained. "The locals would treat it with a lot of respect. You know, like it was sacred."

Emily thought for a few seconds before her eyes lit up in realization. "The First Tree."

"What's the First Tree?" Julia wondered as Dean ran over to her and started freeing her from her ropes.

"It was an apple tree that the immigrants brought over with them," Emily told her. "It's somewhere around here."

"Okay," Dean broke through Julia's ropes, helping her to her feet and gently brushing a thumb over her black eye. "We'll focus on that tomorrow. For now, we gotta get the fuck out of here."

The three of them paused when they heard footsteps coming their way.

"Oh, my God," Emily breathed fearfully, afraid that it was the scarecrow. "Oh, my God."

"Dean? Julia?"

"No, thank God," Julia corrected her with a sigh of relief as Sam walked around a couple of apple trees, appearing before them.

"Oh, I take everything back!" Dean exclaimed, grinning at his brother. "I'm so happy to see you."

"Sam, how'd you get here?" Julia grinned at him.

"I, uh—I stole a car," he admitted sheepishly.

Dean laughed. "Oh, that's my boy!"

"Guys," Emily spoke up worriedly. "Maybe we should get out of here."

"Keep a lookout for the scarecrow," Julia warned Sam. "It could come alive at any second."

Sam gave her a confused look. "What scarecrow?"

Dean rushed around the tree where Julia had been tied up, looking for the scarecrow. It wasn't on its post.

"Fuck," he cursed harshly before turning back to Sam, Julia, and Emily. "All right, let's get the hell out of here."

While they started running through the orchard, Dean told Sam how to kill the scarecrow and stop the sacrifices.

"All right," Sam breathed. "this sacred tree you're talking about—"

"It's the source of its power."

"So we find it and burn it," Sam stated casually.

"In the morning," Dean insisted. "Let's shag ass before Leatherface shows up."

The four of them turned into another row of apple trees and stopped in their tracks when they came face-to-face with Harley and Stacy.

"This way," Dean urged, moving to the left.

Behind him, Scotty cocked his shotgun. On the two other sides were the sheriff and Professor Jenkins, both with large guns aimed at them. A soft growling approached them, causing Emily and Julia to back into Dean and Sam.

"Please, let them go," Emily begged her aunt and uncle.

"It'll be over quickly," Harley assured her. "Emily, you have to let it take them. You have to—"

Harley grunted as the scarecrow's scythe impaled itself through his heart. Stacy screamed loudly, the others scattered, and Emily turned away. Her aunt was next on the scarecrow's list; he grabbed her around the neck, impaled his scythe in the back of Harley's leg and dragged them both off back into the middle of the orchard.

-

The next afternoon, Julia, Sam, and Dean saw Emily off on a bus leaving to Boston, Massachusetts. They had found the First Tree earlier in the morning and it was Emily, herself, that lit it on fire.

Julia was very impressed with the girl and her bravery. Not many normal people would risk their life to save a couple of strangers from being sacrificed. Especially when it was for the good of the town they lived in and loved. Emily was a genuinely good person and Julia wished the best for her.

As the bus drove off, Sam sighed, "Think she's gonna be all right?"

"I hope so," Dean stated, staring after the bus.

"And the rest of the people, they'll just get away with it?"

"They'll be punished enough when their whole town burns to the ground around them," Julia muttered bitterly; the brothers gave her a hesitant look, reminded of when she suggested burning down the whole orchard just in case. "Metaphorically, of course."

Dean playfully rolled his eyes at her. "You little pyromaniac."

Julia winked at him.

They started walking back to the Impala. "So," Dean started, looking over at his brother. "Can I drop you off somewhere?"

"No," Sam scoffed lightly. "I think you're both stuck with me."

Dean raised his eyebrows as he stopped by his door. "What made you change your mind?"

"I didn't. I still want to find Dad and you're still a pain in the ass," Sam chuckled and paused briefly. "But, Jess and Mom are both gone. Dad is God knows where. You and Julia—you're the only people I have left."

Dean's eyes flickered over to Julia, remembering her saying something almost exactly like that the day before. She was smiling cutely at the ground, her dimple on display. He was sure there were probably tears in her eyes.

"So," Sam sighed and Dean looked back at him. "if we're gonna see this through, we're gonna do it together."

"Sam!" Julia sniffed and lunged toward the brothers, wrapping them into an involuntary hug. Dean had been right about her tears; they were currently soaking Sam's sleeve. "That was so beautiful. You should write a book of poems or something."

Dean laughed. "You could call it The Somber Sonnets of Sam Winchester."

"Ha-ha," Sam muttered sarcastically, removing a giggling Julia from around him. "You both should be kissing my ass, by the way. You guys were dead meat."

"Emily saved us long before you did, dude," Dean pointed out. "You got there just for the ending."

"He's right."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Sure, he is."

(Gif is not mine)

[ladyofmaidensandwine]

Of Saints and Sinners

Part Three of the All’s Not Fair in Love and War Series

Square Filled for SPN Dean Bingo: The Bunker

Characters: Dean Winchester, Fem! Reader, Sam Winchester, Charlie, John Winchester, Fem! Reader

Wordcount: 1,674

A/N- I know this one’s a bit short and rather late- sorry it took so long, luvs- but I did feel that this chapter wasn’t meant to be particularly exciting and was more about the reader coming to terms with herself and her new reality.

Summary: Dean has a surprise for the reader, and the reader struggles to reconcile two very different versions of herself while still trying to accomplish her mission.

              The Bunker, it was called. Massive, endless corridors and halls of identical wooden doors, a windowless stronghold built of solid stone and hidden behind the outer wall. No one got in, or out, without the King’s explicit consent, and the building felt too familiar to you. Another prison. Dean had made a begrudging man allow you to select weaponry of your own from the armory, and then had the seamstress follow your guidelines to create a new wardrobe for you, as your cover had been blown wide open when you’d been forced to fight. The wounds had mostly healed, and would undoubtedly scar, and while everyone felt the safety of the Bunker would protect them, you had doubts. You had seen things that no wall of stone could keep out forever, and eventually, you would have to leave.

            No matter where you went, a fully-armed escort of at least four men accompanied you, but not for your safety. For the safety of the civilians. Dean had promised John wouldn’t be able to execute or imprison you again, but how far did his word go, against the commands of his King? You waited for the inevitable heavy iron shackles, and that dark and silent cell haunted you in sleep. You couldn’t enter small or crowded spaces still, and the lack of windows in the stronghold made it hard to breathe sometimes, but you would never give King John the satisfaction of seeing you crumble. You trained, let them see what you were capable of if provoked, you studied maps as often as you dared, tested your mental capacity by memorizing as much of the politics of the kingdom as you could, learned and plotted and planned, and marked the days before you would make your move.

             Dean had been absent, but his brother kept an eye on you. He never made to approach, but you knew he was there. On nights when you couldn’t sleep, you’d sometimes find him in the library, not a word spoken between you as you kept to yourselves and read your respective books. Those nights you sometimes faced with equal parts excitement and dread. The game was fun to play, a strategic balance of moves and countermoves, testing one another’s resolve, but it could mean precious time wasted in your search. 

            You’d been playing games since the moment you revealed yourself, one identity shed in favour of a completely new one, a person more palatable to the court, and one you hoped would gain the trust of the Royal Family. No one knew who you were, beyond your reputation, except for Dean. You wondered which part of your long-buried past he’d managed to uncover. Did he know who you were, where you came from? Did he know why you’d been captured so long ago?

               Dean returned quietly, and you hadn’t known he was back until he was at your door, looking weary but determined. “Where were you?” You asked, not bothering to greet him. He entered the room and shut the door behind him, taking a seat at the end of your bed. “It’s good to see you, too.” Dean replied, raising a brow your way. You scowled deeply, and had to seriously refrain from chucking a brush at his face. Dean huffed, and glanced around the room. “Father sent me to hunt them down. Gather information about the attack.” He answered. “What did you find?” “They came on Crowley’s orders. To take over the throne.” Your eyes narrowed, suspicious of the information. “What is it?’ Dean questioned, pine coloured eyes searching you for an answer. “Nothing concrete. This feels a little too aligned to be coincidence, though. I was rotting in that cell for a good long while before His Majesty deigned to drag me out, and soon after, Crowley plans a coup, forcing us to retreat here? There’s more at work here, I know it.” You said fiercely, pacing the room as you spoke. Dean’s face was grave, eyes intense and solemn. “If this is all a part of some grandiose  scheme, then we will uncover the plot and put an end to it. Y/N, look at me,” Dean requested, laying a warm hand on your shoulder as you met his gaze, “we will figure this out. Together.” Somehow, you believed him.

                  The Bunker offered privacy, which meant you and Dean could escape prying eyes and endless questions and people demanding your attention. You’d taken to sparring in one of many training rooms available, teaching Dean how to throw knives as accurately as you did, while Dean furthered your capacity in unarmed single combat. He’d attempted going easy on you until you’d broken his nose for it, and since then, the two of you spent almost every day together, fighting or trying to discover Crowley’s motives. There were eyes and ears everywhere, but you were no longer in hiding- you wore what pleased you, no more dainty lace and demure pastels, and while at first you seemed agreeable and a pleasant lady like any of the other court women, you no longer hesitated to put those who would speak against you wrongly in their place. It was the most honest and like your true self you’d been in many years, and with Dean, all those fortified walls and concealing masks fell away even further. He made it so easy, so simple, to be Y/N and Dean, just Y/N and Dean, not an assassin and the Crown Prince, a killer and a soldier, just two people enjoying the company of someone who understood.

              “I have something to show you.” Dean said, pushing aside a heavy tome of the records and lineages of King John’s court of nobles. You tilted your head, raising a brow in a silent question, but Dean didn’t answer, only gave you a knowing smirk and an extended hand. “Do I get a hint?” You asked, taking his hand and letting him lead you from the library. “No. Close your eyes.” Dean instructed. “What?” “Don’t you trust me?” He asked teasingly. Your eyes narrowed. He was up to something. “At the moment, no, but generally, yes.” You replied, smirking back when he gave an unamused expression. “Y/N.” Dean said, annoyed. “Dean.” You mocked. “You may be the most obstinate woman I have ever met.” He sighed. The Prince eyed you with a look of both determination and exasperation, the kind of face you’d watched him give Prince Sam at least a dozen times before. “Then perhaps you’ve met your match, Your Majesty.” You quipped, but closed your eyes without further refusal. Dean huffed a laugh, his calloused palm rough but warm against yours, a small smile gracing your lips. You had glossed over it in jest, but it was true- you did trust him. And that terrified you.

               You stared in stunned silence. A room with rows upon rows of artwork. Sculptures, and carvings, sketches, acrylic portraits and landscapes, watercolor paintings, oil, pastels, charcoal drawings, murals and mosaics. Your breath was caught in your throat, eyes wide as you absorbed the myriad of colours. “Is it to your liking?” Dean asked lowly, sounding nervous. You don’t reply, stepping slowly into the first section of stunning oil paintings, the most beautiful art you’d ever seen. Paintings of mermaids and things almost human, with eyes that held that lifelike quality a painter could spend years trying to get right, the shadows so well done, you could swear the paintings move. “I don’t- I have no words.” You said in awe. “What is this? Where did you get all this?” “My ancestors, the Men of Letters, collected the best artwork in all forms they could find for centuries. It’s stored here, but no one ever actually looks at this gallery. I- I noticed you admiring the paintings in the palace, and I thought perhaps you might find some interest in these,” Dean muttered, ears turned red, “and it has been too long since the room was used, anyways.” He deflected from his observation of your love for art, but you were not distracted by attempt. “Dean,” you said, catching his attention with the use of his first name, “this is quite possibly the most wonderful thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you, truly.” You said sincerely. “Don’t thank me, Y/N.” Dean said, something almost bitter and regretful in his tone. “There are supplies, should you want for them, towards the back. I should be going, but I-” He stopped, seeming to reconsider his next words carefully. “I hope you won’t mind if I stop by later.” He said slowly. “I should be quite offended if you don’t. Until then, Your Majesty.” You said with a curtsy, Dean sighing, but with a grin to match your own. “M’lady.” He bowed, smirking before exiting through the grand doors.

               Dean was good to his word- there were countless supplies, easels and paints to last you your entire life, but though you had once delighted to spend hours attempting to perfect the colour and texture of a cloud with careful and decisive brushstrokes, that place in your heart that had been bursting with life was empty. You stared blankly at a canvas, and wondered where the girl you once knew had gone. The girl who brandished sticks of charcoal instead of knives, the one whose hands were streaked with a veritable rainbow rather than deep crimson, the one that had been kind, the girl that had been so alive. In your heart, you knew that girl had gone into Hell, and someone new had crawled out. And yet, sometimes you thought there might still be that part of you that had loved fiercely, and lived freely, little flickers of a painted scene in your mind’s eye, a stirring in your heart that called for joy. And as you explored the vast collection with Dean, you wondered if an artist’s imagination and a lover’s gentle hands could redeem an assassin. If maybe there was still a part of you worthy of redemption.

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