#kiss of a rose. falling of an angel. fist to the face of supernatural

[arttful-dodger]

I feel like I should be able to pay someone to exorcise Supernatural from my soul, it is literally only fair.

[impala-dreamer]

The Chosen - Part Two

Rebekah’s Story

Written and conceived by @impala-dreamer​​ and @covered-byroses​​

~If there was a chance to save Dean, a chance to save her friend…why wouldn’t she take it?~

Michael x Beka, Sam, Y/N, Castiel, Kelly, OMC

11,187 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Angst. Death. Ethics. Theology. Blood. Darkness. Sexual Activity. All the Angst. All the Incredible emotions that come with it. 

A/N: Kelly and I are immensely proud of this and hope that you enjoy. Take your time with it, let it sink in. We know that this simple two parter topped out at very close to 20k, but we stand by every single word, and we thank you for reading. 

The Chosen - Part One ~  Feedback is Gold ~ Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Coverd-byroses’s Masterlist ~ Become A Patreon

She screamed. She couldn’t help it.

His grip was tight, fingers pressing into her scalp even as he tugged, the pain spreading like a web across her skull. It trickled down her spine like an ice bath until Beka could feel her arms going numb; Michael’s touch pushing against some nerve in her neck that sent warning signals throughout her body.

Shut down. Run from the pain.

Beka screamed and Michael sneered, dipping his chin to meet her eye line. His eyes were bright; Grace consuming every speck of green with blinding blue, and Beka struggled to look away.

“Please!”

She hated herself for screaming, for begging; she had made it this far fueled by a tepid mix of pure stubbornness and borrowed fortitude, and to lose it now, to face certain death like some scared child was something she could neither abide nor avoid.

Michael let out a sigh that had weight, more of a deep growl than an exhale, and Beka held her breath, waiting for the end.

With his left hand fisted in her hair, his right rose to cradle her cheek, forcing her to hold still and look up at him at him as she died. Michael wanted to watch her soul depart, to see the exact millisecond when the darkness of her pupils took over and the russet iris went lifeless and dull. He wanted to savor it; a little sweet revenge for the games she’d been playing.  

Michael let his fingers tighten on her skin and he parted his lips, wanting to suck down her tearful cry. He sent out a wisp of Grace and she shut her eyes against the glow, making his teeth gnash in annoyance.

“Look at me!”

His roar snapped her eyes open and Michael’s lips curled, ready to end the pathetic creature in his hands. He took one last look, deep into her eyes and the world spun around him, his mind drifting back to another realm.

The wind was laced with smoke, dust spun around his boots but never settled. The sky was yellow with fires that burned forever; clouds made of earth and ash instead of rain.

Michael landed atop the hill, gilded white wings spread wide, feathers still twitching from his flight. He looked out over the ruined landscape, dark eyes surveying his Angelic Army as it took out a rogue settlement just west of Reno.

He felt it before he saw it. The air shifted just so, turning his face towards the wreckage of a barn. The dying sun sparked off of a metallic sphere and Michael watched as the bomb rolled to the middle of the field, detonating within seconds and taking out four of his soldiers. With their wings turned to coal, ashes stolen by the breeze, the rebels attacked, circling the remaining angels and using all manner of supernatural weapons to cause as much damage as possible.  

Michael’s most trusted, his confidant, Radueriel, was trapped amidst the scuffle. She was talented in strategy, an overseer of archives, but not a fighter. Michael had sent her on a reconnaissance mission, gravely miscalculating the danger. She had been spared from the blast, but was surrounded, and while she held her own, Radueriel was heavily outnumbered.

Michael joined the fray, swooping in like a knight upon his steed, using his Grace to hold back the human scum that dared defy him. One by one, the mortals fell, Michael easily taking them down, but not without tragedy.

Before he could reach her, Radueriel fell; brilliant brown eyes sparking violently before the Grace inside was gone.

Michael pulled in a deep breath and shook himself, his Grace subsiding as he realized he was looking down into the same brown eyes all over again. Ghosts of home were forever nipping at his heels, but here was one, solid and corporeal, in his hands.

“G-go ahead,” Beka gasped, pulling a final molecule of defiance from the depths of her being. “Just get it over with. Kill me.”

Michael cocked his head and relaxed his hold, letting his fingers slip out from her hair, his palm fall from her cheek. He closed his eyes slowly and took a breath, calming himself and quickly rebuilding the wall that his memory had struck down.

“Do it!” she yelled, in her fear not perceiving the subtle change in his posture or the dulling of his expression to mean that he was standing down. She was braced for death and ready to go down with a fight. “Go on!”

Michael regained his composure and set a cocky smirk upon his lips. Raising his chin to look down his nose at her, he laughed. “Oh, no, my dear. I’m going to do so much worse than that.”

A shudder tore through the woman and Michael watched the pulse throb in her neck.

Beka’s eyes flashed between both of his, terrified and searching for an out. “Fine,” she said in a hoarse whisper, trying to calm herself and find her courage. “Don’t kill me. Then…let Kelly go.” She nodded to the cage. “I’ll stay in your cage. Just… set her free.”

Michael took a step back, watching carefully as Beka teetered without him there to catch her. He playfully imagined her attached to a string, a marionette waiting for his talented hand.

“Why would I let her go?” he asked simply. “Kelly is very happy being my little... pet. Aren’t you?”

He let his eyes drift slowly from Beka to the cage where Kelly was waiting patiently, watching the show. She was up on her knees, two tiny fingers hooked onto the horizontal bars that shadowed her face.

“Yes, Sir!” she replied with a chipper smile.  

Green eyes returned to Beka, palms open and up in a subtle shrug. “See?”

Beka shivered. “I don’t know what you did to her,” she said, tossing an accusatory finger at the Archangel, “but that is not happy.”

Michael dropped his hands to settle at his sides. His eyes closed for a moment as a sigh of disappointment flowed from his lips. “Why can’t you trust in me?” he asked softly. “What have I ever done to you that’s caused this...fear and distrust?”

The absurdity of the entire situation topped with his question shook Beka to the core and a wildly inappropriate laugh escaped her chapped lips. “What? I… I don’t even know where to start.” She laughed again and crossed her arms, leaning towards him. “You’re wearing my friend for one. And…” An overly sarcastic nod towards Kelly. “You got another friend locked in a fucking dog cage.”

Michael tilted his head, brows knitting in confusion. “Dean let me in...Kelly prayed. They both came to me willingly. As did you.”

Beka steeled as she narrowed her eyes at him. “I came to kill you.”

“No,” the Archangel rumbled with a curt shake of his head. One corner of his mouth tugged with a cool smirk.“You didn’t.”

“I did,” Beka insisted, a confident smile curling her own lips. “I’ve been playing you for weeks.”

Michael’s smile faded at her words, the olive of his eyes darkening into a deep jade. “You think I didn’t know?” He huffed a venomous laugh that was void of any semblance of humor. “You’re not that good of an actress, Rebekah.” The Angel’s lips again twisted into a sinister smirk as he dipped his chin. “I can see your heart. I’ve been in your mind.” His mouth went slack as his eyes dimmed into something hungry. “I have tasted your...desire. I know what you want…” Beka couldn’t breathe. Michael grinned. “And it’s not to kill me.”

A pregnant pause settled between them and Beka’s voice was faint when she spoke again.

“You’re wrong.”

Michael laughed, ruddy lips pulling back to expose perfect ivory teeth. “So stubborn. So...human.” He bit his bottom lip as mossy eyes danced around her face. “Just give in to me. You know how...happy I can make you. I can take away your pain, your...worry. Everything. Just let go. Be with me.”

Beka swallowed and licked at her dry lips. She felt heavy and light-headed.

“No.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but her resolve was strong.

The Archangel simply blinked, then hummed as he brought a hand up to brush a strand of dark hair from Beka’s eyes. His fingertips burned her skin.

“We’ll see.”

Her heart slowed like the tick of a time bomb as Michael leaned in, his eyes slowly falling to target her lips. A quick breath was held and Beka closed her eyes, hoping that if he was out of sight, the uncontrollable desire swirling inside of her would forget and leave. But he was so close, his breath so hot on her lips, his fingertips curled perfectly around her ear.

The second stretched into eternity and Beka found herself slipping, her mind screaming for him to close the gap. She parted her lips gently and lifted them in offering.

“Michael…”

A clang of metal stole the moment as Kelly rattled the bars of her cage.

In an instant, Michael was gone, dropping to Kelly's side as Beka shivered with his departure.

The spell quickly faded and Beka shook her head to clear the remainder away. She had to fight this. Kelly was still trapped and Dean… at this point she wasn't sure if Dean was still alive or that whole thing had been a cruel joke played by Michael to confuse her.

If it was, it had worked.

“Hush now.” Michael smiled at his captive and stuck two fingers through the cage. Kelly immediately smiled and pressed her head against his hand, sighing as Michael pet her.

Kelly quieted and sat back with a dreamy smile on her face, which was nothing short of horrid to Beka who watched on. As Michael dipped into his coat pocket, Beka began to wander, slowly inching towards the door.

Michael withdrew a single chocolate kiss from his coat and held it out for Kelly to take, smiling in amusement as she grabbed it. “There's a good girl,” he mused, watching as she peeled away the shining wrapper and popped the treat between her lips.

Beka was confused by the display of obvious affection. “So,” she asked, taking stock of the room and the lack of weapons available. “Why Kelly, anyway? Why keep her around?”

Michael offered Kelly a final pat on the head. “She prayed the loudest.” It was, for him, a simple explanation, but Beka could not accept it.

Anger rose in her throat like bile. “She would never pray to you.”

“But she did.” Michael stood then, rising to his feet with an ease that Dean no longer possessed. “She dreamt, she wrote, used all of her energy to call out to me over and over.” He turned to Beka with arms open and shrugged. “Her want was pure.”

“Ah.” Beka gave him a mocking smile as she nodded and took another step towards the door. “So you're just an ego fiend,” she laughed, “explains the blog.”

Michael smiled thoughtfully, stepping toward her. “The blog is...a means to an end.”

“You’re enjoying it,” Beka shot back. “Don’t deny it.”

“I deny nothing,” the Angel said, forehead creasing with perplexity. “I do enjoy it. So many…” His eyes lifted toward the ceiling as he searched for the right word. “Toys.”

“Toys?” Beka parroted, incredulous.

“Toys,” Michael confirmed. “Humans. Women...” His smile was soft, his voice like silk as he spoke. “Throwing themselves at my feet every moment of the day. They think they’re playing a game...but they are giving themselves to me.” He sighed. “It is...enlivening.”

“You’re sick,” Beka hissed.

“Come now, Rebekah,” Michael grinned, green eyes sparking with mirth. “You wouldn’t want to be one of my... playthings?”

Heat curled in Beka’s stomach at his words and her breath caught in her throat.

“Never,” she whispered.

“You lie.” Michael’s voice had a sharp edge to it, and she stiffened as he took a step closer.

Terrified as she was, Beka couldn’t break. She wouldn’t break. With the last fleck of confidence in her, she bared her teeth and spat, “Fuck. You.”

In a flash, he was on her again, breath meeting hers, big hand tight on the nape of her neck. His usually composed face trembled with agitation, and Beka held her tongue.

“You,” he seethed, blunt nails curling into the pale flesh under her hair. “Need to be taught some...respect.”

Y/N's eyes grew wider with every scroll of her finger, each line she read making her heart race until she was sure it would explode.

“Oh, no. No. No.” She chastised the screen, her friend, herself for not paying closer attention. “Goddamnit, Beka!”

Her fist hit the table as her anger bubbled and the splintering pain caught her by surprise.

“Fuck!” The curse rang loud through her room and drifted into the hallway, quickly followed by the slap of her bare feet and another yell. “Sam!”

He wasn't asleep. He was just resting his eyes. Just being self indulgent and closing his strained eyes for two minutes while the world collapsed around him. Taking a selfish five minutes to sit in silence with his temple resting on his knuckles, his elbow on the hard desk. He wasn't asleep.

“Sam!”

Y/N's frantic scream ripped his eyes open and dragged him instantly from the cusp of sleep. He jumped from his spot and gasped, brain desperate for an anchor as he felt around for his gun.

“Sam!” A little softer this time as Y/N ran into his bedroom, and Sam relaxed a fraction, realizing her scream was not out of need but excitement.

“What happened?” He was still disoriented, blinking wildly up at her as Y/N shoved her laptop in his face.

“Beka's in Texas,” she said with a proud smirk.

“What? How do you know?”

“Ah…” She set the computer down before him, uncaring of the shuffled mess of papers he'd been pouring over before exhaustion tapped on his shoulder. “Well…” A few clicks and Y/N pulled up Beka’s blog.

Sam squinted at the screen. “What the hell is this?”

“Her blog.” Y/N waved a dismissive hand and scrolled as Sam looked on. “You remember, she asked you if you cared she was writing stuff and you said no. I have one too.”

“You do?”

“Well, it’s just… like… Chris Evans gifs and cat stuff…”

Sam’s forehead creased as he raised his eyebrows mockingly.

“Oh, shut up! Some of us need hobbies. Anyway… I haven’t been on in forever since we’ve been a little busy, but Beka is always on her blog, so I thought I’d look and… well… look!” She gestured frantically to the screen and Sam sighed, narrowing his eyes as the brightness made his head hurt.

Sometime caught his eye and he leaned in, his index finger quickly finding the arrow keys and scrolling through Beka’s blog.

“This isn’t...what? No.” He clicked through a hundred posts from over the last week, asks and answers, random reblogged things. It looked like a joke- someone roleplaying as Michael, and yet, some of it felt… “This isn’t real.”

“Seriously?” Y/N popped a hip and hung her hand on it. “Look at it, Sam. Read between the lines.”

He shook his head as he went through everything. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah. And…” Y/N pulled the computer away and tapped the keys a few times, easily hacking into Beka’s account.

“How do you know her password?”

“She’s my best friend,” Y/N scoffed. “And it’s Dean’s birthday. It wasn’t that hard to figure out. Here… read.”

Sam grabbed the laptop from her and held it up, hazel eyes growing wide and then narrowing with anger as he read through Beka’s private messages. For more than a week it seemed, she had gone back and forth with Michael, and Sam was in utter shock. They talked about nothing and everything, of missions and fate. He told her of his plans, she told him of her life. They talked all night, every night, and after a while, the messages took on a new form. There were lovesick messages intertwined with hopeful admissions of passion, mentions of dreams and Michael’s desires for her, of her hesitation and ultimate submission to him. Sam read on and on, unable to believe that she’d kept such a thing from him.

As much as the public posts seemed like mere roleplaying, it was clear to Sam that the private talks were real. This was Michael. Beka had found him and not said a damn word about it. She’d been catfishing the very Archangel they’d been looking for and kept it all to herself.

“Why would she do this?” Sam sat back in his seat, just to take a breath, and Y/N shrugged. “Wait, how do you know she’s in Texas?”

Y/N sighed and took back the keyboard. “Strap in, Sam.”

A little maneuvering of Tumblr brought her to another blog, and she tilted the screen for Sam. He sat forward and read through a month’s worth of Michael-centric posts as she explained.

“This blog belongs to Kelly, whom I believe is being actually held captive by Michael at her home in Vernon, Texas.”

Sam lifted a brow towards her but kept scrolling. “Who’s Kelly?”

“Do you like, ever pay attention to anyone but Dean?” Y/N bit, exasperated and ignoring Sam’s eye roll. “Kelly is Beka’s old friend from college. They hunted together for like five years before she met you guys; she’s talked about her.”

Sam shrugged, clueless. “OK, so, Kelly’s a hunter in Texas and Michael kidnapped her?”

“No!” Y/N sighed dramatically and rubbed her forehead. “Kelly’s retired. Something happened with her and Beka on a hunt… I don’t remember the details, but they split up and haven't really seen each other since. Beka didn’t like to talk about what happened, but I know she kept tabs on Kelly.”  

“So… OK.” Sam sat back and scratched at his beard.

“You keeping up?”

Sam scoffed. “Yes.”

“OK, so… it seems like Michael went and made himself comfy at Kelly’s place and Beka found out and… ya know…”

“Snuck out in the middle of the night to confront a murderous archangel without telling anyone where she was going?”

“In her defense… it was morning.”

“She’s being an idiot.”

“That’s not up for debate.”

They stared at each other for a moment and then at the screen, each of them breathing deeply, preparing for what was next.

“Meet ya at the car in twenty?” Y/N asked finally.

Sam scrubbed a tired hand down his face and nodded. “Make it fifteen.”

Beka wobbled on her feet, still dizzy from the teleportation. She was no stranger to it, having known Cas for so long, but it still shook her to her bones. She rubbed her forehead, the press of Michael’s fingertips still warm and lingering on her skin.

Michael was cool and calm beside her while she whipped her head about, trying to make sense of her surroundings.

They were in a chapel, that much she knew. A Catholic chapel from the looks of the framed paintings of biblical scenes and the large crucifix hanging against the pristine white wall. A priest knelt at the altar, head bowed, completely oblivious to the Angel and Hunter standing behind him. The room was silent save for the man’s murmured prayers and the soft pattering of rain against the stained glass windows.

Beka held her breath, trepidation twisting her gut as her mind reeled for an explanation to why Michael would bring her here.

The Archangel broke the silence by clearing his throat. The priest froze, slowly twisting around to to face the source of the sound. His eyes widened at the sight of his sudden visitors, but before he had a chance to speak, the deep rumble of Michael’s borrowed voice filled the room.

“Father Mckenzie.”

Beka’s eyes floated up to the Angel’s, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Yes?” The priest stiffly rose to his feet, a kind smile carving into his face. “How may I-”

The man sucked in a sharp gasp, terrified as Michael let his Grace brightly filter through his vessel’s eyes.

“What are you?” His voice was a low, shaky whisper, and his complexion had noticeably paled.

“Oh, you know me,” Michael said with a cool smirk, bright blue gaze fading back to green. “You’ve...preached about me. And my brothers.”

“Y-you’re an Archangel.”

“Bingo. Michael. In case you were wondering.”

The priest fell to his knees, the thump loud against the hard floor. He brought his hands up, folding them tightly as he began to pray.

“No-no,” Michael protested, waving a hand at the gesture. “None of that. I only want to ask you a simple question.”

The man’s hands fell away, his hands frozen on the being before him.

“Anything,” he breathed.

The atmosphere of the chapel thickened as Michael leaned forward, head dipped toward the wood floor.

“What...do you want?”

“What? I don’t...I don’t understand.” The priest’s face was pulled in a firm expression of puzzlement, his eyes wide.

“What do you want?” Michael repeated. “It’s a simple question, Father. It could be anything. What do you want most in the world?”

There was a long pause as the godly man considered the Angel’s inquiry, and icy dread settled into Beka’s bones as she waited.

“Humbleness,” the man said.

“Mmm,” Michael hummed, lips stretching in a tight smile. “This is why you donate to charities? To humble yourself?”

“Of course,” the priest replied with a clipped nod. “All of us should.” The man smiled softly. “Sadly, modesty is no longer a valued trait in this day and time.”

Michael grinned a cold, sinister grin, and Beka felt sick to her stomach. This wasn’t good. Something was about to happen.

“So, you’re a humble man, hmm?” the Archangel asked. “You’re...modest?”

“I am,” the man agreed. “I’m not perfect, of course, but...I do try to lead by example.”

“And the woman you laid with last night? The woman you..bought. Was she an example?”

Something flickered across the priest’s face, but he quickly blinked it away. “I’m sorry, I don’t know-”

“But you do know.” Michael’s voice was chilling and his grin had not faltered. “How many women have you...made an example of?” The Angel’s eyes rolled back, lips twitching as he counted under his breath. “Six this week. “If I’m not mistaken.”

Beka swallowed as she watched the man start to tremble, her heartbeat thundering in her ears.

“You’ve quite the appetite for flesh, Father Mckenzie,” Michael rumbled.

The priest was panting, true fear evident in his wild eyes. “Please,” he whimpered. “I’m only human...I’ve made mistakes-”

“Yes,” Michael agreed. “You have. Thank you for your time...Father.”

The Angel turned then, and Beka felt a sprout of relief deep in her chest.

The hopeful feeling quickly dissipated.

“Close your eyes,” Michael instructed, hard gaze briefly locking with hers.

“No, please - don’t!” Beka’s plea fell on deaf ears, and she quickly slapped both hands over tightly shut eyes just as Michael’s began to glow a scorching blue.

She could hear it, the sizzling heat as the Archangel burned the man alive - but the smell, the smell was the worst.

Silence fell over the room again in a matter of seconds, and Beka flinched when big hands closed around her forearms.

“It’s over, Rebekah. It’s done.”

She let Michael pull her hands away, blinking rapidly to let her eyes readjust to the room. He turned her so that she was facing the mess left of the man, and bile immediately rose in her throat at the sight.

The priest was nothing more than a...puddle.

Beka closed her eyes, swallowing hard against the putrid heat that pushed up from her stomach. “You… why...oh my god.”

“God...has no power here. He left this to us to deal with.”

“He was just a man!” she raged, spinning to face him again. “He was a good man!”

Michael was still, calmly watching her spin out. “Was he?”

She looked around, frantically searching for answers on the air. Her shoulders shook up and down, her hands reached for nothing. “I… He… He was a priest!”

“Rebekah.” Michael called to her gently, taking a step towards her, his fingertips brushing the hem of his coat. “I don’t have to tell you how corrupt much of the Church is. And you know better than most the kind of hypocrisy that has run rampant in this world.”

“No.” She turned away again, hands rising to cradle her pounding skull.

Michael ignored her attempt at walking away from his lesson and continued, matching each of her steps with one of his own. “The good Father, stole from the church coffers to pay for the woman he brought here. He drugged them with pills dissolved in sacramental wine, wine that he dedicated to the Lord daily, and laid with them on this...very floor.”

Beka couldn’t help but look to him then, in disbelief and a need to hear the rest. Her heart was racing as fast as her thoughts, and Michael’s voice could always calm the rush.

“Some would leave here bruised, some broken,” he went on, “all humiliated and used. All scarred irreparably; body and mind.” He paused to let the last piece sink in, and Beka looked away, breathing heavy as she stared at the pile of charred clerics on the floor. “Now tell me, Rebekah, was he a good man?”

She couldn’t answer. Her tongue was as useless as she had been while Michael murdered the priest. She stood by, listening as he went on, trying in vain to pull out a lie amidst his words.

“This man is not the exception, he is the rule.” Michael stepped up to the muck beside her, careful to skirt the bloody puddle and keep his shoes out of the mess. “All of creation is flawed like this man was. The lies, the...pain visited upon one another…” He took a deep breath as if his words upset him, as if humanity burned him in some way. “No other species in this world harms itself for pleasure...for gain.” He shook his head sadly. “Humans are evil, ruined things.”

Beka shook her head, her eyes glued to the remains. “And you’re going to fix them?” she asked in a whisper.

“I will,” he confirmed, turning at the waist to look at her. “I will save Mankind. You will help me.”

The certainty in his voice, the utter lack of questioning or offer made her angry. She turned away again, battling herself as well as him. “I can’t.” She stopped and let her head fall back, eyes lifting to an empty ceiling, to a God who wasn’t there. “You are so wrong.” Tears tightened her throat and she looked back at Michael. “People are inherently good. You’re confusing a few… bad apples with a dead orchard. It’s not like that.”

Michael nodded as he came towards her, accepting her analogy. “Does not one rotten apple spoil the entire basket?” he asked in honest debate. “The cancer always spreads.”

Her voice was weak, a revenant whisper that echoed nonetheless in the cavernous room. “Cancer can be stopped, slowed.”

“Exactly.” Michael smiled, a hint of excitement lighting his face. “I will stop it. You will help me.”

It all seemed so simple when he spoke, but Beka could not accept it. She believed in the good of people, in their ability to make the right decisions, to be… good. All the bad she’d seen in her life never stopped her for long. There was always something good, always someone who could pull her back from the faltering ledge of disbelief. Sam had taught her that. Dean had taught her. People were good. Crazy, flawed, yes, but not hopeless. Not condemnable.

But Michael wasn't too far from the other truth, and she knew it. She'd known many men like Father McKenzie. She had seen men of power say one thing and in the shadows do another. There was no hiding the plain facts that Michael laid out for her now; the simplicity of his plans. It was one thing to hear them, see his words flashing on a screen, but to see them...to feel them…

Her eyes burned with tears she refused to let go. Her body shook with a shiver so intense that it clattered her teeth against one another. Her breath was quick, chest tight. She was spinning into a panic, unable as contradicting thoughts battled in her mind, to pull up.

The room began to spin and Beka held her head, clawing at her own cheeks as the walls became an impossible wave of moveable stone. “I can't...it's not...the whole...point...you…”

Her jaw dropped suddenly as the next breath refused to come. Her eyes bulged and her mouth parched. Violent white began to paint her vision, but Michael pulled her back.

“Rebekah…” His voice sounded miles away but she heard it. It called to her again and she turned her eyes to meet his. “Breathe, my love.”

A warm hand cupped her cheek and Beka took that breath finally, sucking in a lungful of air and letting out a pathetic cry. A single tear escaped her left eye and Michael swept it away with a gentle pass of his fingers.

“Please do not cry,” he whispered, earnestly. “This is a good thing. A new world will be born and you will be with me, by my side. Forever.”

His smile was soft and kind but Beka froze in his gaze. She had seen that smile a thousand times before but it was wrong. The blank intensity of his stare was wrong. Everything was just… wrong.

“Let go of your fear and take the first step with me.” Michael held both cheeks now, softly cradling her face as she twisted inside. “You understand,” he insisted. “I know you do.”

Beka could feel another wave of anxiety eroding her thoughts and she stiffened against him. “Let me go.”

Michael's smile fell and contorted into a disappointed line. The crease between his eyes deepend and he dropped his hands, hurt by her words.

“I am not keeping you here,” he said sadly. “You may leave me whenever you wish.”

She pulled away quickly, boots echoing on the stone floor as she ran to the door. Before she pulled it open, a pang of regret struck her heart and she looked back over her shoulder. “I...I just need to be alone for a bit. I’m sorry.”

Michael nodded solemnly and watched her leave. He had no fear of her running off, no worry that she would not return. He knew he had her. She belonged to him even before tonight, before they’d met face to face. This was all just... sealing the deal.  

Sam’s grip was firm but his hands still slipped from the wheel. Every few miles he would drop them to his jeans and wipe the sweat away with a disgusted grimace. Maybe it was nerves, the thought of finally confronting Michael after all these weeks of searching certainly had his stomach in knots, but it was also the utter uncertainty of what they were walking into.

Beka’s messages, her behaviour, her posts, they were all incredibly strange. She wasn’t herself when she was talking to Michael. It was almost as if he had reached through the computer screen and doused her with a love potion. On the other hand, she could have been pretending, acting the part to draw him in, gain his trust, and then lure him out of hiding. Sam wasn’t sure which was it was, but either direction had its potholes and detours. Beka was stubborn, painfully so, and once she had it in her mind to do something, there was only one person who could usually talk her out of it, and Dean wasn’t exactly on call anymore.

Sam almost hoped she’d been hit by a Grace-induced love spell. At least that they could remedy. Pure stubbornness and a reluctance to ever ask for help, even in life or death situations made for a hard combo to combat.

Castiel noticed Sam’s shaking knee and leaned towards him a bit, the Impala’s leather bench squeaking under the shifting weight. “We will bring her home, Sam.” His voice was low and gruff, and Y/N’s head popped up in the backseat, pulled from her sleepy haze.

Teeth scraped across a tense bottom lip. “We don’t know what we’re walking into, Cas.” Sam sighed and trained his eyes on the road lest they see Cas’s worry. “If she’s even alive.”

Y/N sat forward and inserted herself into the front seat, a floating heat lit by passing streetlights. “She’s alive.” Her faith was secure.

Cas looked back at Y/N, his lips turning downwards. “Y/N… it is possible that Michael killed her on sight.”

Tears threatened, but Y/N held firm. “No. She’s fine. She knew what she was doing when she walked in there and I know she will walk back out.”

Sam sighed and spared a glance over his shoulder. “Y/N/N…”

“No! She is fine! We’re just going to pick her up. Like her car broken down. Or...she got a flat tire. She… lost her phone and can’t get an Uber. She…”

“Was an idiot and ran off to fight Michael without telling anyone?” Sam tried to continue in jest but anger and worry clouded his voice, lifting it into a full shout by the end. Annoyed with himself and wanting the conversation to end, he slammed his palm against the steering wheel and huffed.

Y/N sank back into the shadows and Cas turned back to his window.

With his heart pounding and a new headache springing to life, Sam pushed down hard on the gas, willing the old Chevy to sprout wings and take them to Texas faster.

No such luck.

After a mile, the windshield was splattered with a heavy mist as God pulled a blanket of clouds over their heads. They were driving into the rain.

They were driving into a storm.  

The air was cool after the rain. Nothing like the chilly nighttime air of home but it felt good. It was a refreshing change of atmosphere from the heat and the stench of the chapel.

Beka needed to think. Her mind was still whirring from the existential discussion she’d just shared with the Archangel. The ground was still wet from the evening’s shower, street lights reflected in the small puddles collected on the sidewalk.

Her boot sloshed through a tiny pool as she rounded the corner to the alley. If she’d been paying attention, she would have caught the mirrored image of a figure silently swooping in behind her as she ventured into the quiet dark.

Beka’s scream was too late as a gloved hand clamped over her mouth, stifling any plea for help. Rough stone bit into her back as she was roughly shoved against the side of the church. She blinked, heart pounding, straining to make out the face of her attacker. He wore a ski mask, only the stranger’s dark eyes and thin lips peeking through the holes of the black fabric.

A flash of steel glinting under a nearby street light caught Beka’s eye, causing fresh fear to spread over her scalp and trickle down her back. The knife pressed against her throat, just shy of breaking the skin.

“Cash,” a low voice demanded. “All of it.”

Beka nodded frantically, slipping a hand into the front pocket of her jeans. She wasn’t much of a fighter, her true skills as a hunter lying in research, but she wasn’t going to be brought down by a common mugger. Beka used all of her strength to bring her knee up, hard between the criminal’s legs. The move granted her freedom, the man’s hands leaving her as he doubled over in pain.

Her heart threatened to burst as she took off in a sprint, and the sound of her own boots against asphalt drowned out the stranger’s second attack.

The air was violently knocked from Beka’s lungs as she was thrown to the ground and her head cracked painfully against the graveled floor, blinding stars whiting out her vision.

“Fuckin’ bitch,” the man growled, knife tightly clutched in his fist.

The pain was white-hot as the cold steel plunged into Beka’s stomach. She could hear the sickening wet sound the weapon made as her attacker pulled it free, and both hands immediately flew to the gushing wound as the stranger ran off into the night.

Beka used all of her weakening strength to press against the gaping hole in her belly, and her eyes drifted up to the towering steeple of the church. Michael’s words echoed in her head as warm blood sluiced over her knuckles.

Humans are evil, ruined things.

It started to rain then, cool wet mingling with the hot tears slipping down her cheeks. Her eyesight was fading, but Beka could still see the glisten of the building storm clinging to the stained glass windows.

Black was framing her vision like a vignette, and her eyes were just beginning to softly flutter closed when she saw him.

The press of his palm against her clammy forehead was warm, and the Grace flooding her veins even warmer. Her skin itched for just a moment as the open wound on her stomach sealed back into place.

Strong hands helped her to her feet, and she clung to him like the literal lifeline he was.

The Archangel Michael. Her savior.

There was a time when people prayed to him daily.

‘Saint Michael, defend us in battle! Cleanse the earth of all evil that we may be closer to our Heavenly Father.’

A time when their knees bore the weight of their bodies pressing down into hard floors and benches as they beat their breasts in supplication to him.

‘Oh, glorious prince, Saint Michael! Chief and commander of the heavenly hosts, guardian of souls, vanquisher of rebel spirits, hear our prayers! Save us from all evil!’

He was worshiped.

He was feared.

He was loved.

But somewhere, amidst the rise of modern industry and the glow of technology, humans had turned away from him. Away from the Church, away from God.

They knew the Commandments and they willfully disobeyed, bragging on their Twitters about how they had broken the rules. They skirted the laws of man, utterly rebelled against the laws of Heaven, and openly rejoiced about their wicked ways. They built shrines on their blogs to the filth that excited them; they joked about adultery, waged hate wars born from jealousy, and even attempted to silently cause warm to others through a tiny, gray face.

Michael had seen it happen on his world, and here, across the dimensions, so far from home, he saw it again.

A mere week on the internet had sealed Mankind's fate. There would be no saving most of them. Their souls were already singed by the kindling of Hell's fire within them, all earmarked for damnation.

His mission was the same as it had always been. He had been created by this Father to rid the world of evil, to defend the righteous, to battle Satan and all of his minions so that the worthy could be saved.

His mission had not changed, it had simply evolved, expanded. A new, better plan for a new, better world.

He would not be stopped.

It was his purpose, his destiny.

And it was hers to stand by his side.

Death had retreated; her pain was gone.

Beka pulled away just an inch, just far enough to look up into his face.

“You saved me.”

She needed affirmation, something to pull her from shock back into reality.

Michael's arms wrapped around her, firm yet gentle, pulling her close as she began to tremble. She let him guide her to rest against him, her cheek pressed to the wool of his rain dampened sweater. She closed her eyes as his palm lay on the back of her head, keeping her still.

“I will always save you. You are my Chosen. My Rebekah.”

His embrace was warm but she was chilled to the core, shivering as the weight of the night settled upon her.

“Why?” she asked suddenly, her tongue bypassing her brain and running amuck. “Why me? Why did you choose me?” Tears churned in her chest and began their climb.

Michael's arms tightened around her. “You know why. I've told you.”

Her heart ached. Confusion swirled once more,  circling like seagulls above a cracker of doubt.

“Tell me again,” she pleaded in a whisper.

He ran a hand down over her head, smoothing down the hair that had gone wild in the attack. His fingers closed gently at the nape of her neck and he squeezed, a gesture of reassurance laced with possession.

“You're strong. Full of hope but not blinded by it. Your soul is bright and others are drawn to it. You can help invoke change, lead others to our cause.”

She struggled to understand, burrowing her face into his chest to hide from the questions that tore through her mind; the self doubt, uncertainty. “I don't think that's true. I'm nothing special.”

Michael tilted his neck and lay a cheek on her head, drawing her closer. “It is true, my love. I have looked into your heart. I see...everything. And I know you understand.”

“You don't need help,” she whispered, breathing him in, filling herself with his warmth while she could.

“No,” Michael sighed. “But I want it.”

His grip on her eased and Beka stood up straight, looking up to find his face pained.

“I want help,” he said again. “I want someone who understands. Someone who, as you would say… gets it.”

Beka chewed her lip and shook her head, unsure. “And you think I get it?”

Michael's features softened and he took a small step forward. “Oh, I know you do.”

She fell back, slowly mirroring his steps, waiting to see what he was up to.

“I know you understand,” he repeated, his eyes dark once more, his subtle smirk set. “I know you understood when I killed that corrupt old man. I know you understood when that bum ripped a hole in your gut. I know you felt it when your soul pulled away, when I… retrieved it. I know you...get it.”

Beka swallowed hard and halted her retreat. Her eyes flew across his face and for the first time she saw passed the mask, she saw passed Dean’s stolen face, she saw Him. “I do.” The words broke free and her shoulders settled, her heart finding a steady rhythm at last. It all made sense, finally. This was fate.

Michael took a final step towards her, leaving only inches between them. He lifted his hand to cup her cheek, curling his fingers around her ear, dragging his thumb over the soft pink flesh of her plump bottom lip. She leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering as she gave in.

“So tell me, Rebekah, now that you understand…” He leaned close, green eyes wide as he watched her lips twitch, calling to him. “What...do you...want?”

A deep breath filled her lungs and Beka’s mind was clear for the first time in her life. There was no more panic, no more worry, no question at all. Just an answer. Simple, pure, true. She exhaled slowly and opened her eyes, looking up at her Angel.

“You.”

Michael’s lip curled with a victorious smile. “Then take...what you want.”

There was only a sliver of space between them, and Beka quickly closed the gap, pressing her full lips against his. The kiss was hungry; desperate - and she felt like she couldn’t taste enough of him.

The Angel began to walk her backwards, and she let him, sighing into his mouth as he backed her against the same stone wall that her would-be killer had pressed her against mere moments before. Beka looped her arms around Michael’s neck as he licked into her mouth, his hands roughly squeezing at her breasts, pulling visceral moans from the base of her throat.

She yelped as he effortlessly flipped her around, her chest and cheek flush against rain-slick stone. Heat gathered in her belly at the sensation of blunt teeth scraping at her neck, and her eyes rolled back in her skull as Michael’s fingers deftly pulled her jeans open, dipping a hand underneath the elastic barrier of her panties.

There was a hard lump pressed against her ass as thick fingers easily slid through her slick folds.

“Wait,” Beka gasped. “N-not here. Please.” She took a calming breath. “Take me somewhere.”

Michael’s stolen lips brushed against her ear as he spoke, and his voice was thunder-deep.

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

Beka blinked at her new surroundings, her stomach completing it’s last flip at the sudden change of location.

It was the most exquisite hotel room she’d ever seen with its large windows that took up the entire wall, allowing for a breathtaking view of the twinkling city lights of the night skyline. The king size bed was neatly made, a plush ottoman sitting at its foot.

“Where are we?” Beka breathed.

Michael stepped toward her, lifting a hand to cup her cheek.

“Does it matter?”

Her reply was silent but honest. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore, only being with him.

Beka pressed up on her toes to try and kiss him again, to restart the scene from the alley, but Michael pulled away gently. His fingers fell from her cheek to grab her hand and he smiled. “May I show you something?”

She nodded and let him lead her to the big windows, stepping up until her toes touched glass.

Midnight was upon them and the city was quiet, streets empty from polluting cars, sidewalks clear of crowds. Lights were on, but they were soothing from this height, like looking down upon the night sky, a dizzying reversal that made Beka’s heart race as she pressed her forehead to the window.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

“I like the view,” he said with an amused sigh. “The world is peaceful at night, clean, calm. As it should be.”

Beka couldn’t disagree. The rain had washed the city clean and it glinted against the black sky, a hundred thousand stars lighting the night.

But those were not stars, not really. The lights were lights from inside homes, skyscrapers filled with people, hundreds of thousands of people sleeping below them, all in danger.

“You’re going to murder them all, aren’t you?” She let it out in a whisper that fogged up the glass. It wasn’t accusatory or hateful, merely a question. She had to know what she had signed up for.

Michael stood behind her, looking out upon the world he had given himself charge of. “Most will perish, yes.”

She looked up at his reflection, at the resolve in his eyes, the absolute surety as he spoke.

“This city... will burn. But it is from the ashes that the righteous will rise.”

His fingertips lingered above her shoulder, and she turned slowly, ready to give in to him, to everything.

She pressed her palm to his chest and slid it upwards, tickling his collar with her fingertips. Their eyes met and she let out a sigh. “Kiss me.”

Michael broke their gaze as he dipped his chin, and Beka’s blood ignited as his warm lips pressed against hers. His hands found purchase on her hips, and she sighed into his mouth as their tongues slid against each other’s.

Beka didn’t realize they were moving until the backs of her knees bumped against the edge of the bed. The mattress was soft under her back as the Angel blanketed himself over her, trapping her underneath his heavy bulk.

Michael’s lips were hungry as they sucked and pulled at hers, and Beka was impatient herself, her fingers desperately clawing at his sweater to rid him of it. He obliged, and within seconds they were both naked, pressed skin to skin.

Beka was panting by the time Michael’s lips reached her chest, the plush cushions of them ghosting across her heated skin. The hot weight of his cock was delicious against her, the shaft grinding perfectly against her clit.

She was nearly vibrating with arousal, her cunt aching in desperation. “Please...” she begged, her lust-blown pupils eclipsing the rich brown of her eyes. “Please...I need you.”

The Archangel halted his movements, hitching himself up on his forearms to bore dark green eyes into her.

“Pray to me.”

Liquid heat hurtled through her veins at his command, and Beka had to take a moment to just breathe. “Please, Michael,” she rasped. “Take me...take what’s yours. Take what’s always belonged to you.”

A slow grin blossomed across Michael’s face, and Beka gasped as he shifted to press the warm head of his cock against her soaked entrance.

With a powerful snap of his hips, the Angel was fully seated inside her, and Beka’s jaw dropped in a silent scream at the delicious stretch, her fingertips denting into the smooth skin of his back.

His eyes were unblinking as he began to thrust, fast and hard, and her eyes began to fall out of focus with the burning pleasure of it all. Nothing else existed as Michael ferociously pumped into her, and his voice sounded distant as he called to her.

“Rebekah...Rebekah, look at me.” Everything was fuzzy, staticky…

Until her eyes reset on his. The luminous blue crystals of his eyes were sharp as they blazed into hers, the only clarity she needed as he fucked her apart.

Michael’s face was set in a cold sneer as he watched her crumble underneath him, as he watched her disintegrate under his power.

Just like the world would.

Beka’s shrieks of pleasure were piercing as he claimed her; mind, body, and soul.

“Do you give yourself to me?” Michael asked, his voice even despite his exertion.

“Yes! Fuck! Yes, Michael!” Her voice was raw as she screamed her submission, and her fingernails etched little crescent moons into his shoulders as she clenched up, clinging to her savior as her orgasm rippled through her.

Michael came soon after, biting into her shoulder as he shook with his own climax. He smoothed her damp hair out of her eyes, his own gaze back to a calming green as he waited for her breathing to settle.

“You’re mine now, Rebekah. My Chosen.” His voice was deep and rich, soaking into the marrow of her bones.

A dreamy smile stretched her lips. “Yours, Sir. Always.”

She drifted for a while, stuck in a haze of bliss, unable to move a muscle save for her eyes that followed Michael around the room.

How strange, she thought, to watch him like this. He was naked still, body much leaner than she remembered Dean ever being; the shadow on his collarbone a little darker, his stomach more defined. But it was entirely not Dean. He held himself differently, moved in deliberate and clipped ways. It was not Dean.

And Rebekah did not care.

He dressed slowly, pulling on each layer of fabric as if he were mad at it, as if the very act of dressing disgusted him. However, he was not without a sense of vanity, she realized, for Michael stared at his own reflection in the dark window, making sure the lines of his slacks were in order, the collar of his wool sweater in place. He seemed to enjoy the body he had acquired and carefully adjusted his clothing to accentuate it.

Michael ran his fingers through his hair and caught her eye in the glass.

She smiled but he pulled his gaze away.

“Get dressed.”

She sat up quickly and reached for her clothes, collecting the pile to sort on the bed between her legs. While her jeans were airborne, her phone slipped free of the back pocket and landed with a muted thud on the carpet.

Rebekah retrieved it and tapped the screen out of habit. Fourteen missed calls and twenty-seven texts. She chewed absentmindedly at the corner of her mouth as she opened the screen and went for a scroll. She deleted the calls from Y/N and Cas, shooing away their voicemail notifications, and took a peek at their texts.

The last, from Sam, caught her eye.

‘Bek- CALL ME. please. We’re coming to get you’

She cocked her head at his words and turned the screen in her had before holding it up and out towards Michael. He saw the glow in the window and turned slowly, easily reading the tiny words from across the room.

His lips fell into a tight line and he nodded.

“Let them come.”

They parked a few blocks away, though they knew it wouldn't matter. If Michael was there, if they had truly tracked him down, he would know they were coming, roaring Impala or not.

Guns tucked in waistbands, angel blades hidden but ready, the trio shared a silent moment over the Impala’s hood, each nodding their readiness.

Puddles broke beneath Sam’s boots as he lead them to Kelly’s house. Y/N had tracked her down easily and their surveillance of the surrounding area had shown Michael coming and going from this spot for the last two weeks. He kept no schedule, but he always returned, every ten hours or so, but Kelly had not been seen since his first arrival.

They didn’t know what they were in for, but Sam was always prepared. Prepared or stupid, he was never really sure. Brave, he liked to think, but it was probably stupidity that pushed him forward tonight.

There was no way to prepare for this, to come face to face with the monster that had stolen his brother.  

The house was dark, save for a light at the top of the stairs. Three pairs of boots silently climbed the thirteen steps to the landing, weapons drawn, breaths steady.

Once they’d reached the narrow hallway, Sam waved a hand, gesturing for Y/N and Cas to stay behind as they crept toward the sliver of yellow light filtering from around the corner just ahead.

The wooden door had been left ajar, and Sam stretched his neck to survey what little he could see of the room.

There was a window on the far wall, blinds drawn, and he could just make out wooden bedpost a couple of feet in front of it. Sam strained his ears, but there were no sounds. He turned then, the index finger of his free hand pressed to his lips in warning to the hunters behind him.

Breaths were held as Sam pushed the door wide, the air thick with dread. There was a chorus of relieved exhales at the sight of the cage, Kelly’s small body tightly curled up against its floor.

“Oh my god…” Y/N breathed, rushing toward the kennel. She slipped the lock pick set from her back pocket, making quick work of the padlock before wrenching the small door open.

Kelly stirred at the noise, raising up to rub the sleep from her eyes.

“Hey, Kelly…” Y/N greeted, careful to keep her voice soft. She winced at the sight of the poor girl. Her face was deeply bruised, and two angry cuts on her bottom lip and above her left eye  were just beginning to scab over. “You’re gonna be okay,” Y/N assured her. “Everything’s okay. You’re safe now.”

Kelly’s eyes were pained, but Y/N could see a faint glimmer of hope bloom in the deep blue of her irises. “Safe?” she croaked, her voice gruff from nonuse.

“Ye-”

A sound at the door interrupted the rescue, and she looked up just in time to see her best friend standing at the entrance of the room. Beka wasn’t alone.

“Michael,” Y/N hissed, spitting the name out like acid.

The Archangel smiled, stepping in front of his new companion. “Y/N…” Michael’s eyes were hard as steel as he smirked down at her. “I see you’ve found my pet.”

Y/N had been too distracted with Michael and her friend’s arrival to see the snarl curl Kelly’s lips, and before she could stop it, the captive was launching herself from the cage, knocking the hunter to her back. She tried to throw her off, even managed to get a firm hold of her arms, but then everything went dark as Kelly’s forehead violently smashed against hers.

The hunter-turned-prisoner laughed maniacally as she rolled off Y/N’s motionless body, her wild eyes gazing up Michael.

“I did it, Master! Did you see it? Did you see what I did for you?!”

“I saw,” the Angel smiled, crouching down to stroke her hair. “Very good girl…”

Kelly giggled, eyes wild as she soaked up Michael’s praise.

“You son of a bitch,” Cas growled, blue eyes clouded with building rage as he took a threatening step toward the Archangel.

Michael’s smile was steady as he rose back to his height. “Picking up my vessel’s vocabulary, I see,” he quipped, eyes shining with amusement. “You’re becoming one of them. You’re becoming...human.” His smile fell as his eyes darkened. “You can burn with them.”

A roar erupted from Castiel’s chest as his anger crested in the form of a burning blue stare. Angel blade, clutched in his right fist, he surged himself forward-

But Michael was quick, easily blocking the blow and wrenching the useless weapon from the lower-level Angel’s grip. The crunch of Michael’s fist against Castiel’s jaw resounded through the room, the blow effectively stunning him, buckling his knees.

It was all happening so quickly that Sam didn’t know where to look. His gun was useless, he realized soon, unless he wanted to risk shooting one of the girls. As he moved to stow it away, Beka came towards him, walking with purpose. Her hands were empty, and her face was set in a hard expression, one Sam had never seen on her before.

“You need to leave, Sam,” she said simply, stopping less than a foot away. Her eyes were dark in the broken light, almost black; lifeless and without care.

He exhaled heavily and shook his head, his eyes twitching between Beka and the fight behind her.

“What?” His shoulders hunched and he reached for her, locking his big hands around her upper arms. “Bek, what happened to you?”

She smiled as memory washed over her, her eyes rolling for a split second as she took a deep breath. “Everything.”

Sam’s chest was heaving, his mind racing. He looked down at his friend and leaned closer, whispering even though he knew Michael could hear. The Archangel was still occupied with his opponent, beating Castiel to a pulp across the room. A river of blood flowed across the hardwood floor and Sam feared the end was nigh.

“Beka, please, listen to me,” Sam begged, “Cas and I will hold him off, you grab Kelly and Y/N, and go.” He paused to look over at Y/N who was out cold, crimson painting her face, nose to sternum. “It’s all gonna be OK. I promise. Just go.”

Beka cocked her head and frowned. “It’s not, Sam. You shouldn’t have come.”

“What?”

As his brows knit in confusion, Beka attacked, bringing her arms up quickly to break his hold. While he stumbled, shocked by her movements, she grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down as fast as she could while bringing her knee up high, clipping him just below the ribs.

Sam let out a pained moan and doubled over, clutching his side, in shock and hurt. He looked up at the exact wrong moment and took an elbow to the face, letting out a clipped roar as he felt his cheek bone crack. He called her name, held his hands up in surrender, but she paid him no mind, bringing her fist down against his skull again and again.

She wasn’t strong enough to do much and she tired quickly, the time between her blows growing longer with each strike. Finally, Sam caught a break and grabbed her arm, twisting it as he stood and spinning her around, pinning her arm behind her back.

Beka let out a frustrated scream, and in that instant, the battle was over.

Michael’s eyes burned bright as he looked to his Chosen. He left Castiel broken at his feet and took a step towards Sam, warning with his deep growl to let her go.

Sam’s eyes were huge as Michael came near, his quick exhales tickling the hair on Beka’s neck. She squirmed against him, but he refused to let go, gritting his teeth at the Archangel’s approach.

“Sam...Sam...Sam.” Michael paused a ways away and shook his head slowly. His voice was calmer now, but his displeasure was clear. “Let...her go. Now.”

Sam’s hesitation was met with anger, and Michael’s brilliant eyes glowed even brighter. Beka laughed as she felt his Grace shoot passed her and knock Sam backwards, sending him flying into the wall behind them.

He landed with a pained grunt and climbed onto his hands a knees, his vision blurry from the blow. In his daze, he saw Beka turn to stand beside Michael, her eyes blank, lips touched by a calm yet eerie smile.

“What have you done to her!” Sam roared from the floor.

Michael shrugged, his palms turned upwards, arms outstretched. “I have done nothing to her. Rebekah came to me, gave herself to me. I...simply gave her what she’d always wanted.”

Sam was back on his feet, ignoring the pain as he straightened up. “You don’t know what she wants,” he argued. “You don’t know her.”

“And you do?” Michael laughed.

Sam sneered. “She’s my friend. She’s family.”

“She was your secretary,” Michael spat. “I’ve given her what she needs. Purpose.”

Sam’s jaw twitched and he shook his head. “Beka, listen to me,” he pleaded, moving his eyes from Michael to her. “We can fight him. You can fight him. It doesn’t have to be like this. Come home.”

Beka smiled. “I am home.” There was an absolute truth in her voice that both broke Sam’s heart and scared him to death.

“Bek…”

From behind her a step, Michael moved closer and placed his hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. “She belongs to me now, Sammy,” he said, using Dean’s voice and nickname to mock the seething Hunter. “Run along, now. I’m sure we’ll be seeing you… very soon.”

Sam clenched his fists as rage boiled inside his gut. “I won’t leave without her!” he roared.

Michael did not even flinch, nor Beka, who stood as stoic and tranced as before. “But you must, Sam. She’s not leaving me.” He turned his eyes to Beka who met his gaze with a loving smile. “Are you, my love?”  

“Never.”

What was left of Sam’s hope shattered with her answer, his jaw dropping slightly as her reply struck him in the chest.

Michael seemed amused, but not quite satisfied, and he left Beka’s side to attend to his pet. He dropped to one knee and lifted Kelly’s chin gently with one finger. “Kelly, will you help me with something?”

She smiled up at her Master and nodded. “Yes!” she exclaimed with a joyful laugh. “Anything.”

“Such a good girl.” Michael’s praise was well received, but the fist in her hair was not.

Kelly screamed as his thick fingers tore through her scalp, yanking her to her feet as she gaped at him in shock.

Sam watched on in horror as Michael dragged Kelly across the room, her feet unable to keep up, sliding over the hardwood. Without a word, he dropped Kelly at Beka’s feet.

“Sam doesn’t seem to believe you, Rebekah.” His voice was too cool, too calm and it chilled Sam’s soul. “Prove it. Show him that you mean what you say. That you are...mine.”

Beka waited silently for his command, her eyes flickering quickly to Kelly in confusion before resetting on Michael.

“You are mine...are you not?” he asked, lifting his chin as he looked down upon her.

Beka swallowed hard and answered honestly. “Yes.”

Michael nodded once at Kelly. “Kill her.”

Sam began to shake as Beka bent down to pull a blade from her boot. It was short but sharp, it’s old wooden handle softened by bloody and sweaty hands over the years. As she rose back up, she grabbed Kelly by the head, fisting the fragile hairs at the nape of her neck. The poor girl shrieked and begged, tears flooding her bruised cheeks as Beka forced her to her feet.

There was no mercy in her eyes, no regret.

She was deaf to Kelly’s cries.

“Beka, no!” Sam’s voice did little to shake the moment, and he gasped as Beka did as she was told, plunging the blade into Kelly’s chest, piercing her heart.

Kelly fell from her friend’s grasp, falling to her knees and then onto her back, her mouth open in a scream that would never again be heard; her eyes wide and trained on Michael.

Beka wiped the knife on her jeans and carefully tucked it back into her boot. Her face showed no glimpse as to her thoughts, no pain, no sadness. She had killed her oldest friend, the one person who knew her best, the last link to her past.

She had gone there to save Kelly, and lost herself to His whims.

Michael stepped over Kelly’s paling flesh and turned Beka’s face to his. “Very well done, my love.”

She smiled and sighed, his words flooding her mind with pleasure. “Thank you, Sir.”

Sam held his breath and took a step towards the mess, determined to bring her back. Behind them, Castiel stirred, groaning as he woke to pain throughout his body.

Michael turned his eyes to Sam as he walked slowly around his prize. “You see, Sam? It’s too late. She belongs to me, now.”

Sam could not bear to look at him so he pleaded with Beka, with his friend. He’d brought people back from the edge so many times before, he knew he could do it again.

His voice was caked with sorrow as he tried, one last time. “Beka-”

Her eyes flashed up at him, a stren and devilish smile curling her lips as she cut him off. “It’s Rebekah.”

When the rush of wings had dissipated and her goodbye no longer rang in his ears, the only thing Sam was left with was the staccato thudding of his heart and the blood of his failures, pooling at his feet.

FOREVER TAGS: (closed) : @adoptdontshoppets @akhuna01 @akshi8278 @amanda-teaches @bambi95-blog @because-imma-lady-assface @bluebirds-in-june​ @capsheadquaters @captainradicalpassion @charliebradbury1104 @chelsea072498 @chuckdangit @cleverdame @colagirl5 @cosicas-cuquis @courtney-elizabeth-winchester @covered-byroses @curly-haired-disaster @disneymarina @deansgirl215 @dean-winchesters-bacon @doa1518  @dubuforeveralone @duncedgoofball @dustycelt @ellen-reincarnated1967 @emoryhemsworth @emptywithout @ericaprice2008 @fandomimaginesftw-personal @eternal-elir @fandomismyspirit @feelmyroarrrr @focusonspn @grace-for-sale @hazeleyesstolemyheart @herbologystudent252 @idreamofhazel @ilsawasanacrobat @imgetting2old4diss @iona-laia @jayankles @jotink78 @justcallmeasmodeus @katy80us @katymacsupernatural @kdfrqqg @kittenofdoomage @lefthologramdeer @lonewolf471​  @maddiepants @mariekoukie6661 @maui137 @meganwinchester1999 @mistressofallthingsgeeky @mjdoc90 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @mrswhozeewhatsis @natural-daydreamer @newtospnfandom @notesfromalabprincess @oneshoeshort @percussiongirl2017 @pisces-cutie @pilaxia @prose-goddess @randomparanoid @roxyspearing @sandlee44 @sculptorofbeginnings @serpentbaby @sgarrett49 @speakinvain @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spn-fan-girl-173 @spnbaby-67 @spnwoman @super100012 @supernaturallymarvellous @supernatural-teamfreewillpage @superwholockmarauder @tabrown2021 @teaminvisible @thegrungequeer @thehardcoveraddict @tornadoecat @trenchcoatsandserpents @trunk-full-of-ideas @tumbler-tidbits @violetsaucer @waywardbaby @waywardasfudge @wegoddessofhell @winchesterprincessbride @winchesterxfamilybusiness @wonderxland00

The Chosen: @shamelesslydean  @likhelbentin @crashdevlin

[destielstuffandthings]

Chapter 2,

Sam stood there staring at Gabriel. "What does that mean? Why can I make angels appear when I want?" Gabriel was pacing the room biting his finger. Sam watched his confused expression and got a little worried. He just wanted to go home. He was done with tutoring for now, Gabriel was freaking him out.

They appeared in Sam's room. Gabriel took a quick look around and kept biting his nail. "Gabe, please. C'mon, man, say something." he pleaded. "I don't know. I really don't. I've never known anybody that can do that. Handy, I s'pose, but not normal." Normal. Nothing was normal about this. "So I touched a blanket and I'm a freak. Great." Sam mumbled as he went to sit on the bed. "Shit. No, that's not what I meant." He rolled his eyes, feeling like crap for phrasing it that way. He cuddled up next to his man on the bed and wrapped an arm around him. "I'm sorry, Sam. That came out wrong. We're still trying to get a handle on your powers. This is just one of them." Sam nodded and ran his hand through his hair. "We should go tell the guys. I bet Cas is wondering why he was zapped into a classroom half naked." Gabriel agreed and kissed Sam's forehead.

"Let me try something." Sam closed his eyes. "Cas, can you and Dean meet us in the library? We all gotta talk." he thought silently. Then, he grabbed Gabriels hand and blinked them into the library. A minute later Cas and his big brother walked in with confused faces. "Did you summon my husband?" Dean asked with a cocked eyebrow. "Yep." Sam said with a sigh. "Gabriel and I were working on seeing how my powers work. I knew I could do that with Gabe, but apparently it's all angels. And," he took a deep breath, "I can bring them to me. Cas, that's why you popped into the classroom. I thought about you hard enough and brought you to us." The couple looked at Sam with open mouths. "You--you can bring them to you? Like, physically, bring them right to where you are?" Dean asked.

"Yep."

"Wow."

Yep."

"What else?" Dean pressed. "I don't know, man. This is all new. It's kinda blowing my mind." Sam said in a higher pitched voice. Cas raised his eyebrows. "This could be very useful in the future. Sam, you need to keep expanding and figure out what else you can do. This is very impressive." Gabriel patted his mans shoulder. "Welp, back to the ol drawing board, Sammy."

Dean turns on his heel and walks out of the library muttering to himself. He opens his bedroom door and runs his hand over his mouth. "What's wrong?" Castiel asks from the doorway. Dean turns and waves his arm in Cas' direction. "Im surrounded by freaking angels, that's what. Every one here has freaking powers and I'm useless. I don't even feel like a freaking hunter anymore. Why do I even need to be? You three can just flap in, kill what needs killin and leave. I'm useless." He flops down on the bed and lets his arm fall over his face. "Useless." he mutters. Cas' expression turns from worried to angry in three seconds flat.

He walks over to the bed and grabs Deans collar, jerking him into an upright position. "Cas what the hell--" he protests. Cas' piercing blue eyes burn into his humans. "Now you listen to me," Cas all but growls, "you are Dean freaking Winchester. Every monster and dead thing on this planet knows and fears that name. YOU are the deadliest human known to evil and they'd laugh seeing you throw yourself a pity party." Deans eyes widen with fear. He thought he could feel the room start to tremble. Holy shit, Cas was PISSED. "You're strong, and smart, and fearless. You've saved the world HOW many times and THIS is how you act? All because you aren't part angel or something supernatural?" He let go of Deans collar and stood over him. "None of us asked for this. You should count yourself lucky. You're human. You're MY human. I thought that would be enough for you." He started to cross the room, heading for the door. "Shit, Cas, don't leave. Please." Dean begged. Cas stopped and took a deep breath. "I married you. I love you. But I can't stand when you talk about yourself like this." he balled his fists.

Dean rose of the bed and made his way to Cas. He wrapped his arms around his waist and sighed. "I'm sorry. You're more than enough. Fuck, Cas, I don't know what I'd do without you. I'm sorry. You're right, I need to just get over it." He kissed behind the angels ear and tightened his grip around his hips. "Please." he kissed again. "I'm sorry." Kiss. "I love you." Kiss. Castiel turned without breaking Deans hands away and kissed him hard, raking his hands through his humans hair. Dean winced and moaned at the pain mixed with pleasure.

Castiels hands flew to Deans shirt collar and ripped it down, popping off the buttons in the process. He yanked the shredded shirt off his body exposing his muscular chest. Dean tried to speak. "Cas--Cas, slow down." His breathing hitched when Cas bit down on his lip and grabbed his jeans. He pulled back to look at Dean quickly before pulling the button on his jeans. "I believe they call this angry sex." he growled. Dean let out what could only be described as a whimper. "Oh, I'm so fucked." he whispered, feeling the angel shove his hand into his boxers. "Not yet, you aren't." Cas corrected.

He pushed Dean down onto the bed and began removing his tie. Loosening it slowly while making quick work of his belt. "Take of your clothes." he demanded. Dean hurried and removed what was left of his clothes and laid back on the bed. Cas' pants landed with a thud as he tugged his shirt off over his head. "Jesus, Cas, you're fucking hot." Dean panted, drinking in his husbands body. Castiel silently kneeled on the bed, his erection dragging across Deans naked body. He shuddered at the touch. He reached down and started stroking his cock, watching

Dean reaches for the little bottle in the nightstand and hands it out to his angel. Castiel scowls and shakes his head. Deans eyes bulge. "Hey, whoa. I know your pissed, man but I need lube." Cas chuckled darkly and took the bottle. He popped it open with his mouth, still rubbing his erection, and squirted a bit onto Deans fingers. "Oh." Dean smiled and rubbed his fingers together. He teased his way down between his thighs and pressed against his opening. Cas grunted in approval and quickened his pace watching Dean work himself open. Dean wanted to beg his angel to fuck him right then but he was too caught up in just watching. Cas' chest and arm muscles clenched and relaxed with every stroke, sweat forming on his brow, his breathing staggered when he saw Dean slip in another finger. "Dirty little angel." Dean moaned. "You like watching, don't you?" Cas hummed in approval.

Dean curved his fingers, hitting all the right places. He let out a loud groan as his body jerked in reaction. He hit it over and over, panting harder each time. Unable to control himself any longer, Cas pulled Deans hand away and buried himself into his human. Dean clenched his fists and cried out. Pumping deep, Cas grunted and growled in Deans ear. He almost sounded feral. It made Deans stomach twist in amazing ways. "Punish me." Dean whispered in the angels ear, licking it roughly. "I've been so bad. Punish me." he groaned. That sent his angel over the edge. He fucked Dean without holding back, pounding him into oblivion. Pulling hair, scratching backs and arms, a stream of obscenities flowing out of their mouths. Dean grabbed Cas by the shoulders and pulled him deep, coming between their writhing bodies. Cas came soon after, confident that everyone in the bunker would hear their finale. He laid beside his human and smiled. "I feel much better now." Dean laughed in response and took in a sharp breath. "I'm not gonna be able to sit right for a few days." he muttered.

[fathertaurus]

Carry On Wayward- Dean Winchester Father Imagine

Warnings: Angst, tears, idk it’s sad yall

Pairing: Dad!Dean Winchester x Daughter!Reader

"Dean?" The light from the hallway shown through into his room, only a crack, but enough to illuminate the figure standing in his doorway.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes he squinted harshly before recognizing who was there. It was his 7 year old daughter, Y/N .

She stood there, little balled up fist raised to her eye as she rubbed it absentmindedly. Clothed in nothing but one of Dean's old t-shirts and some shorts she tightened her grip on the teddy bear given to her by Bobby.

Just by looking at her though, Dean knew something was wrong, especially with the time of night it was.

"What's wrong kiddo?" He question, throat dry as he forced himself up on his pillow. Y/N stepped closer into his room but seemed hesitant.

"I had a bad dream...c-can I come sleep with you?" Dean was now more awake than before, his new parental instincts kicking in the quieter she became.

He moved until his back was set up against the bed frame, reaching over to switch the lamp on beside his bed. They both simultaneously flinched at the bright light, Y/N sheltering her sensitive eyes with her tiny hands and Dean just seeming to squint harder.

He looked back at her, now that he could fully see her, to notice the stray tears drying on her face, her nose sniffling here and there every few seconds.

"Oh-h, yeah of course. C'mere." He opened his overly large arms awkwardly, again, still new to this whole parental thing.

But Y/N didn't seem as hesitant before, this time instead quickly making her way to his side.

She climbed over his legs with her free hand and moved until she was at his side, tucking herself right underneath his arm.

Dean cleared his throat before smiling down at her softly, noticing her doe eyes becoming heavier. Suddenly her mouth opened up but only to reveal a short-lived yawn.

Dean slowly slouched his body back down, moving so that he was laying flat on his back and she was still tucked into his side, arm wrapped tightly around her.

"Aren't you gonna turn the light off?" To say that Dean was shocked was an understatement. The seven year old who was just complaining about a nightmare with tears in her eyes and a quivering lip was asking to turn the light off? Wasn't strange at all.

"Uhm..are you sure? We can leave it on if you want."

"No." she began, finger rubbing over the teddy bear's button nose. But her attention moved away from it quickly, eyes darting up to hold Dean's stare, "I know you'll protect me from the monster."

His heart seemed to stop for minute, too filled up with this strange warm feeling that made his chest ache, but in the good way. It was strange though in a sense, being so captivated by a child's eyes.

But she was slowly beginning to mean everything to Dean, whether he recognized it or not.

"Wait," he mumbled catching her words, "Is that what you had a nightmare about? Monsters?" Dean was genuinely curious. He assumed that if he had a better idea of what she was so afraid of he could come up with a good goofy story on how to defeat them to make her feel better.

But by the way her body tensed up and the grip on her bear tightened he began to believe a funny story wasn't the cure to this fear.

"I-I don't want to tell you about it." She stumbled, voice now shaky and face turning red. Dean instantly took that at his stop sign.

"Okay okay that's fine. Why don't we just sleep then." He hastily offered, not wanting to trigger something neither of them could handle.

It went to silence after he said that, seeing that she had closed her eyes and seemed to be instantly falling asleep. So Dean nodded to himself and shut his eyes as well, feeling the tiredness from before begin to arise once more.

"Can you sing to me?" Her voice echoed off the walls and nearly scared Dean half to death, eyes shooting back open to look down at her.

"W-What?" He spoke trying to catch his breath as he gawked at the little child. She snuggled deeper into his side and he knew she was trying to convince him with her "angelic looks" or at least that's what Bobby called them.

"Sing a song?" She shortened the question this time, obviously just trying to get to the point.

Dean stared at her with a raised brow and nearly slacked jaw, shocked at how good she was with bribing. And the longer he stared, the more he knew he was going to have to sing some song to her.

Clearing his throat best as possible he let out a pitiful sigh before taking a breath.

"Once I rose above the noise and confusion

Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion

I was soaring ever higher

But I flew too high," Dean went to clear his throat of the raspiness but it seemed as though Y/N didn't seem to mind, her eyes now shut once more.

"Though my eyes could see, I still was a blind man

Though my mind could think, I was still a mad man

I hear the voices when I'm dreaming

I can hear them say," Realizing that Y/N’s breath had now slowed Dean took note in lower his vocals.

"Carry on my wayward son

There'll be peace when you are done

Lay your weary head to rest..." for some reason Dean caught himself, his voice stopping.

He didn't understand it at all. Why there was this feeling stirring behind his eyes. Why he pulled her closer and made sure there was enough blanket to cover her body. Why this child who irrupted from no where had made such an impact on who Dean was.

Never did Dean think he was going to be a father. Sure maybe on a rare occasion he thought about it, but with the way he was raised and with the life he lived he just didn’t see it as a logical thing to do.

But now here he was, singing Kansas to his 7 year old daughter to help cure her of her nightmares. Who would've thought?

"Don't you cry no more." And with that he finished, knowing there was no need to continue because she was clearly asleep.

He didn't think twice about kissing her forehead or switching off the lamp. After doing both things he just moved further down on the bed so both he and Y/N could rest more comfortably.

Dean never believed in angels or god, because that would mean hope would exist, that good really existed, and neither of each things had Dean really experienced or come to know. But as time went on and the supernatural proved him wrong he began to accept it.

But now, as he laid here with his child in his arms all of that cheesily began to make sense. She had become his new beacon and he wasn't going to let her go.

A scream echoed from down the hallway instantly shocking Dean awake. It was a blood-curdling cry in the dark, one that, if he hadn’t recognized the person it belonged to, would have resembled something from a horror film.

The blankets flew to the side and Dean was barreling out of his room and into the bunker hallway.

Tripping over himself he swiped at his face, rubbing the remnants of sleep away as he hastily made his way to the bedroom in which the screaming was occurring from.

Just as he rounded the corner to the door he knocked shoulders with another body. Grunting as he stumbled back he glanced up to see his younger brother, the same look of sleep ridden panic on his face.

“I-I tried calming her down but–”

“I know Sammy just let me through.”

His younger brother stared at him apologetically, feeling somewhat guilty though no one was at fault here. But he abided Dean’s words moving from the doorway out into the hallway to allow room.

Dean barged in without a so much of a second glance, dashing through the dim lighting until he was at her side.

She was wailing like an animal, hands clawing at her skin as she sobbed into the bed sheets. Her whole body was covered in a sweat, skin burning at the touch. She trembled viciously in her fetal position seeming oblivious to Dean’s presence.

Groans and moans emitted between the yelling causing Dean to flinch. If there was one thing Dean hated the most in this world it was seeing her in pain and knowing there wasn’t much he could do to ease it.

But learning a trick or two from the past couple months of this torchere Dean sat beside her on the bed.

Unexpectedly he picked her up from the mess of damp sheets into his arms, resting her body against his chest and in his lap.

He cooed to her as best as possible, mumbling “it’s okay”’s and “I’ve got you I’ve got you,” to try and tame the pitiful beast she had become.

Dean sighed shakily, tightening his grip on her inflamed body. His eyes moved around the room as he thought to himself until his memory hit him like a brick wall.

“O-Once I rose above the noise and confusion

Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion

….I was soaring ever higher

But I flew too high,” To say Dean’s voice was quaking was an understatement, the lyrics were practically rattling in his chest. But surprisingly the words seemed to hovering over Y/N’s frail body and hold her. It seemed like it was helping to shut out the noise and the fear.

“Though my eyes could see, I still was a blind man

Though my mind could think, I was still a mad man

I hear the voices when I’m dreaming

I can hear them say,” Dean struggled to ignore the crack in his tone as he sang. But the longer he stared at her the worse he felt. Like he was losing at this job of being a decent parent and it was breaking him on the inside.

He couldn’t ignore it, he couldn’t ignore the tears that pooled in his eyes. She was so..ruined. The girl who was once so pure years ago was now just an absent memory. She had transformed into this: A broken child.

And all Dean could think about was how it must’ve been his fault.

This whole family was cursed, how could it not have been his wrong-doing?

“Carry on my wayward son

There’ll be peace when you are done

Lay your weary head to rest…” He choked mid-lyric.

Her eyes were shut now and the shaking had calmed down enough to keep her from tumbling out of his grasp but it didn’t ease Dean’s conscious. Then again nothing could, not when he saw his own flesh and blood in this way. No…there were no words, no actions that could make him feel better.

But he put his feelings aside because he didn’t have time to worry about himself, not when his daughter was in these conditions.

“Don’t you cry no more.”

Tears spilled, chest ached, and the fault burned.

A sob escaped his lips as he clutched her near lifeless body to his chest, sucking in a deep breath against the crown of her head.

“P-Please…don’t you cry no more.”

A/N: hope you enjoyed this angsty blurb!! I found it in my notes and decided I might as well post it. Send in requests!

[deansdirtylittlesecretsblog]

We All Go A Little Mad Sometimes

Title:  We All Go A Little Mad Sometimes

Author:  Dean’s Dirty Little Secret

Characters:  Soulless!Sam x female reader

Word Count:  1058

Warnings:  nsfw, smut, explicit language, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, chance of getting caught, tiny bit of angst (seriously, tiny, you have to squint)

Author’s Notes: This was written for @roxy-davenport ‘s SPN Birthday Challenge. I had a variety of prompts I had to include - Soulless!Sam x reader, an interrogation sexual fantasy, a reference to the movie Scream, and the quote "Everyone deserves a second chance." The only thing I really had trouble with was the Scream reference. Let’s see if you guys can find it.  //evil laugh//

You watched as he strode through the door, his suit hanging perfectly off of his fit frame, his tie pulled loose, the top button of his white dress shirt open. He sat on the edge on the table where you were sitting, hovering over you, his presence intimidating, overwhelming.

You fidgeted nervously. “How much longer am I going to be here?” you practically snarled.

“Not much longer,” he shrugged. “Just a few more questions, Miss Y/L/N.”

“I think you’ve asked me enough questions,” you snapped.

“I don’t think I have,” Sam retorted. “I’ll let you know when I’m done with you.” His eyes were empty, his face stoic and uncaring, blank. There was nothing there when he looked at you - nothing of the Sam you’d known. You were still trying to adjust to this new, unreal version of the man you loved. Sam without his soul.

You took a deep breath. You’d agreed to try, telling yourself that everyone deserved a second chance. It had been Sam’s idea to do something that the two of you had done before he’d gone to Hell, something that might make you feel like you still had your Sam in your life. You’d leapt at the chance, choosing the role play fantasy that had been your favorite. You straightened your shoulders, determined to follow through with what you’d started.

“Let me go, Agent Winchester, and I promise to make it worth your while,” you purred, rising slowly from your seat, your fingers dragging along the edge of the table as you moved toward him. You stopped in front of Sam, swallowed back the touch of fear you felt, and put your hands on his thighs.

Sam smiled at you, though it wasn’t the same smile you’d fallen in love with all those years ago - the sweet, innocent puppy dog smile. You brushed his hair from his face, wishing he’d lean into your touch like he’d always done, but instead the smile changed to a smirk, a knowing smirk. You stepped closer, rose up on your toes, and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“What do you say, Agent?” you whispered against his mouth.

He grabbed you around the the waist, lifting you, and in two long strides, he had you against the wall beside the the two-way mirror, his body flush against yours, his mouth on yours, kissing you with intense ferocity.

“Sam -” you gasped, pulling away. “Someone might see us.” You looked pointedly at the video camera on the wall.

Sam glanced over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing slightly before he turned back to you. “It’s off, told ‘em I work better without an audience. No one in the other room either.” He tipped his head toward the glass. “Just you and me.” He caught your lips in his, just as intense, just as greedy. He wanted you.

Screw it. Caution thrown to the wind, you returned the kiss, one hand fisted in the back of his jacket, the other in his hair, his groan of desire when you tugged at it making your body hum with need. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your shirt pulled up in the back, scraping against the bricks, your skirt hiked up around your waist, the hard line of Sam’s arousal rutting against you.

Sam broke off the kiss, pulling away long enough to twist his fingers in your panties, and pull them off with a hard yank, the material digging into your hips for the briefest moment just before the elastic snapped and broke, the flimsy material falling to the ground. He shoved his hand between your legs, two fingers teasing at your entrance.

You moaned, your head falling back and hitting the wall, Sam’s mouth crawling over your neck. He growled, the sound reverberating through both of you, his fingers sinking into you, thrusting and scissoring, stretching you open. He fumbled to open his pants, pulling himself free. He fisted his cock, stroking it several times. He kept one arm around your waist as he lowered you onto his substantial length, both of you groaning as he filled you completely.

Sam held you in place, his hips moving in tight even thrusts, his arm sliding up your back to your shoulder, pulling you down onto him, burying himself deep inside of you. His face was pressed to the side of your neck, his breath hot against your skin, his hair tickling your cheek. He was grunting, slamming into you, the sounds he was making obscene and unbelievably sexy.

You tugged on his hair, drawing another groan from him. He moved faster, fucking you harder, so hard your head and back were slamming into the wall, making for a strange combination of pain and pleasure. Tears were sliding down your cheeks, every emotion possible bubbling to the surface - desire, want, need, love, hate, fear, anger, even sadness. They were crowding your brain, each one jockeying for position,  overwhelming you. Sam looked up at you, catching your lips in his, and for a second, you felt your Sam, felt it in his touch, felt it in his kiss.

The orgasm took you by surprise, a sharp jolt of intense pleasure hitting you out of nowhere, a startled gasp coming from you. You threw your head back, not even feeling it crack against the wall, moaning Sam’s name as the sensations rolled through you.

His fingers dug into your shoulder as he thrust into you several more times, his body going stiff as he let go, his cock pulsing as his seed spilled into you. He kissed you breathless, groaning into your mouth, sweat running down his face and neck.

Sam nipped harshly at your lower lip as he set you on your feet. He stepped back abruptly and tucked himself back into his pants, then he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and tossed it to you, smirking as you tried to pull yourself together. You’d just straightened your skirt when he grabbed you by the upper arms and pushed you back against the wall.

“That was fucking amazing,” he growled, kissing your neck.

“You’re crazy,” you sighed.

“We all go a little mad sometimes,” he replied. He kissed you one more time, bruisingly hard. “I’ll meet you in the car.”

“A little mad,” you whispered. “That about sums it up.”

Forever:  @aprofoundbondwithdean @jensennjared @mrswhozeewhatsis @the-mrs-deanwinchester @official-shipper @brooklyn-writes-flangst @climbthatmooselikeatree @mamapeterson @katnharper @raeganr99 @skybinx-blog @winchesterr67 @grellsutcliff105 @arikas5744 @faegal04 @the-girl-of-your-nightmares @mrsjohnsmith @kreborn17 @mogaruke @courageoussam @nerdwholikesword @growningupgeek @virgosapphire79 @sleep-silent-angel @bkwrm523 @iwriteshortstuff @for-the-love-of-dean @nichelle-my-belle @deandoesthingstome @andiamsoinlovewithyou @pizzarollpatrol @misswhizzy @supernatural-jackles @balthazars-muse @waywardjoy @awkwardnerdqueen @valee-ppiew @superbluhoo2 @deansbaekaz2y5 @roseangel013bf @deanwinchestermybae @jencharlan @kickasscas67 @chelsea072498 @neanealuv @deanscherrypie @kittenofdoomage @tjforston @purgatoan @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms @sckslife @sis-tafics @youwerelikeadream @i-dream-of-dean @impala-with-wings @bringmesomepie56 @basmaraafat @oriona75 @dearmisterhiddles @writingbeautifulmen @ultimatecin73 @gemini75eeyore @vote-for-pedro @tom-is-in-my-tardis @percywinchester27 @mysteriouslyme81 @faith-in-dean @that1seniorchick @milkymilky-cocopuff @atc74 @s4m-w1nch3st3r5287 @winsmut @squirrelchester @demonangelimpala @justacaliforniandreamer @xxsugarturtle @findingfitnessforme @wvnchxstxr @winchestergirl-love @petrovadixon @colorfuluniversewhispers @love-kittykat21 @velcr0kitty @spookypeyton @frickfracklesackles @ria132love @shhhs3cret @harleenquinzzel @icantfindacreativeurl @gallifreyansass @anotherotter @kaitlynmarie1120 @giftofdreams @not-moose-one-shots @you-didnt-see-that-cuming @emoryhemsworth @fangirlofeverythingme @goldenolaf25 @nanie5

Sam girls: @anotherwinchesterfangirl @winchestersinthedrift @sammit-janet @blushingsamgirl @withoutaplease @appleschloss @winchester-bait @kayteonline @miss-devonaire @frankiea1998 @samwinchesterfluffandsmut @impalaimagining @ellen-reincarnated67 @isabellarose5150 @saxxxology @lenawiinchester

[chloelucia13]

Long Way Down Part 1

Pairing: Eventual Dean x angel!reader

Series Prompt: (Season 12 spoilers) Castiel, your last brother that you trusted, died, and the Winchesters are the only people you have left.

Series Warnings: Character death, angst, fluff, low self esteem issues, depressing thoughts, thoughts of suicide, just a lot of sadness, smut

A/N: This is probably the only way I will cope with Cas’ death, so I hope this helps you guys too! Obviously, there will be spoilers. Also, this series is loosely based off this song! (dreams are in italics)

Tags: @teamfreewill-imagine, @faith-in-dean, @ellen-reincarnated1967, @for-the-love-of-dean, @supernatural-jackles, @winchester-writes, @angelofwinchester17 (Tag list is open)

(Series Tag List open)

You already started screaming before Cas even fell to the ground. “No! No, no no no,” you wailed, running over to Cas and grabbing the lapels of his coat, shaking him as if trying to wake him up.

“How pathetic is that,” Lucifer sighed, kicking your side and you collapsed on top of Castiel’s lifeless body. Your head was pressed to his chest and the lack of breath and heartbeat just made everything worse, the pain in your ribs not even registering.

A pair of arms picked you up and pulled you away from Cas, despite your screaming and crying in protest. “Shh, shh, its okay,” Dean whispered to you, pulling you close and shielding your eyes from your brother’s dead body.

You sobbed into Dean’s shoulder, clutching his shirt in your hands until you heard the sound of fighting. You turned your head and saw as Mary’s brass knuckles met with Lucifer’s cheek, knocking him off-balance. He grabbed her sleeve and they both fell through the split, the break sealing up behind them. You screamed louder, tears burning your cheeks and flooding your eyes. Your throat felt as if it was being ripped apart and you fought against Dean, being freed from his arms a moment later. You ran over to Castiel, dropping to your knees and felt as the gravel scraped the skin. “Cas, wake up. Please wake up.”

“Y/N-”

“Cas! Please! I need you! Don’t just leave me! You’re my brother, dammit!”

“Y/N!” Dean shouted and you moved your hands to Cas’ chest, trying to resuscitate him with CPR, slamming your hnds down on his chest as tears blurred your eyes.

Fatigue began to set in and you stopped, instead pressing your head to his chest, deep, shaky breaths spilling past your lips. “I’m sorry, Cas. I’m so sorry.”

Dean hesitantly took a step towards you, and when you didn’t move, he kneeled down next to you and pulled you into his arms. “It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart.”

“No it’s not.”You slumped against Dean and reached a hand out towards Cas, blue light glowing on your palms as you pressed your hand to his chest, healing the wound, despite it doing nothing to save him. 

Dean moved his arm under the bend of your legs and stood up, cradling you in his arms as he walked you into the house, laying you on the couch. “Get some sleep.”

“What are we gonna do with him?” you asked, tears staining your cheeks as more pooled in your eyes.

“Don’t worry about that. You need to rest. You’re weak.”

You faintly nodded but didn’t close your eyes. you just stared at the ceiling. “I can’t.”

Dean stopped mid-step, turning on his heel to face you. “What?”

“I can’t rest.”

Dean frowned softly and walked back over to you, squatting down so he was eye level with you. “Sweetheart, look at me.” You turned your head and stared blankly at Dean. He wiped a tear from your cheek before taking your hand in his. “Everything will be okay. It’s gonna be hard, but you’ll get better. We all will.”

“It was too soon for him.”

He nodded and gulped, squeezing your hand softly. “I know, kid.” Dean rose and moved your hand to your lap before letting it go. “We’ll be okay. We always are.”

You awoke from the sound of the impala door squeaking open. “Hey, it’s okay, sweetheart. Go back to sleep,” Dean muttered, setting you down on the back seat and brushing the hair off your face. 

You shook your head and weakly grabbed his arm. “Cas?”

“Shh, don’t worry about it. We’ll talk about it when we get to the bunker, okay?” You nodded softly and sniffled, letting go of Dean’s arm. “Atta girl.”

You turned your head to the other side, only being slightly startled when you saw a boy sitting there, his eyes watching you quizzically. “Y/N?” he voiced after a moment of silence, and you nodded softly. “I apologize for your loss.”

“You too, Jack.”

“Sweetheart,” Dean whispered, gently jostling your shoulder.

You groaned and rubbed your eyes, turning your head to see Dean pulling you into his arms, preparing to pick you up. “Hmm?” you mumbled, wrapping your arms around his neck as he lifted you up. 

“Just wanted to make sure you didn’t fall into a coma,” he joked, nudging the door shut before carrying you into the bunker through the garage. “You were sleeping pretty hard. Looked like you needed it, though.”

You nodded and rested your head on his shoulder. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Anything for you, angel.” He nudged your door open and laid you down on your bed, pulling the blankets over your body. “Alrighty, yell if you need anything.”

“Cas, Cas!” you screamed, holding his hands tight as you tried to pull him out of the huge pit. “Don’t let go, I’ve got you.” Your hands were shaking from holding on so tight and tears were stinging your eyes. 

“Y/N, it’s okay,” Castiel stated all too calmly and it just made you even more terrified.

“I’m gonna get you out. You’ll be okay. just hold on a little longer.”

“It’ll be okay, Y/N. I’ll see you soon.” Cas let go of your hands and you screamed.

You shot up in bed, screaming and thrashing around, tears streaming down your face. “No, Cas, NO!” you sobbed.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” Dean muttered, wrapping his arms around you and trying to keep you from thrashing around and hurting yourself or him. “You’re safe, nothing’s gonna hurt you.”

“It’s many fault. It’s all my damn fault!” 

Dean pulled you closer and tucked your head under his chin. You collapsed into him and he rubbed your back comfortingly, moving one hand to tangle in your hair. “What’s your fault?”

“Cas is dead because of me.” You grabbed fistfuls of Dean’s shirt as sobs wracked your body. 

“Shh, don’t say that. It’s not your fault. It is not your fault.”

“It is my fault, god dammit! I could have pushed him out of the way. I could’ve...”

“What?”

“I could’ve sacrificed myself for him.” Your body shook with silent sobs now, your face pressed into Dean’s chest. “I couldn’t have been so selfish I could have risked my life for him, but I didn’t.”

“Y/N, look at me.” Dean grabbed your face in both hands and forced you to look him in the eye. “None of this is your fault. We couldn’t save him, okay! Don’t you dare blame yourself for something you had no control of. And don’t you dare say that you are selfish. You are the kindest, most beautiful, most loving, most selfless person I know. You understand?” You nodded softly and Dean furrowed his brow in concentration as he wiped the tears from under your eyes before pulling you to his chest. “Don’t you ever think that you are any less than perfect. Cas wouldn’t want you to, and I sure as hell don’t.”

You sniffled and wrapped your arms around Dean’s neck, hugging him tightly. Dean wrapped his arms around your waist and hugged you just as tight, humming softly to help you calm down. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Dean nodded and laid you down, moving his hands to cup your face and press a kiss to your forehead. “Get back to sleep, princess.”

Your body already began to grow slack, and your grip on Dean slipped just as he began to let you go. He stepped back and and you reached out towards him. “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Can... can you stay with me?”

A soft smile graced his features and he nodded. You scooted over and he slid into bed. “Goodnight sweetheart,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close to him. 

“Goodnight, Dean.” You rested your head on his chest and quickly fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

But, before you fully succumbed to sleep, you felt Dean’s chest rumble as he murmured against your forehead. “I love you.”

You were confused for a few moments when you felt warm breath against your neck and two calloused hands absentmindedly tracing the outline of your body, but hen everything from last night came rushing back. “Mmh, good morning, princess,” Dean muttered, resting his hands on your tummy. 

“Mornin’ Dean,” you whispered, turning around to face him, a soft smile spreading across your face at the sight of his. “Uh, thanks for staying with me last night.”

“Of course, beautiful.” He brushed the hair away from your face before taking your hand in his, pulling you up as he sat up. “Come on, let’s get some food.”

You nodded and followed him into the kitchen, the words he told you last night echoing in your mind as you stared at his hand gently clasped with yours. 

You sat down at the table, your hand slipping out of his as he headed over to the coffee maker, and your hand felt too empty and cold when it departed with his. “Dean?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he answered, taking off his robe and handing it to you, seeing that you were only in a tank top and shorts in the cold bunker. You smiled at him gratefully and slipped it on. You stared at the robe for what seemed like a few seconds, but it was apparently longer as Dean had to snap in front of your face to break you out of your trance. “You okay sweetheart?” You shrugged and pulled the robe tighter around you. “What were you gonna ask me?”

“Oh, right...” you muttered, shifting your gaze to his. “What you said last night, was it true?”

“Of course! You are one of the bravest and kindest people in the world-”

“No, not that. You... You love me?”

[waywardimpalawriter]

Not long enough

Not long enough

Summary: All too soon, death has come and now their alone to morn and try to move on.

Setting: 1983 just after Mary was killed.

Pairing: None

Characters: John, Mary

Word count = 972 (with lyrics)

Warnings: none that I can think of just memories and sadness

Notes: Written for Album Challenge Unstoppable by Rascal Flatts Fourth song Forever. John inspired this little drabble. First time writing for John and I'm a little nervous. @mrs-squirrel-chester

Forever:

@winters-buck

@angryschnauzer

@marvel-lucy

@feelmyroarrrr

@fandommaniacx

Supernatural:

@smoothdogsgirl

@aquabrie

@spnfanficpond

@aprofoundbondwithdean

  I miss you so much Your light, your smile, your way And everything about us Though you're gone Your still here

One light shone, illumining the mostly dark room. Sitting, elbows on knees, staring at the picture in his hands. Index finger smoothing over the glossy photo, over her face, hair, body wishing she’d still be here instead of this empty bed he sat on. It wasn’t supposed to end like this with him stuck here to raise two little boys by himself without the love of his life.

No they were supposed to be happy, live a long life together grow old, see their sons marry, have children of their own then after 40 or so years together let go as one. Now he faces a life of loneliness, except for his children the only ones he has left to live for.

In my heart In my tears Yeah you sure left your mark We were just getting started

Tears gathered, blurring his vision, but John refuses to let them fall. Strength in times of pain, even with his shattered heart, he had more than himself to think about.

“Daddy?” Dean asked softly, little fists rubbing at his eyes, having tried to sleep but it just wouldn’t come.

Head wiping around to face his son, “What are you doing up Dean?” resting the picture he’d been staring at on the bed side table.

Padding over slowly, “I no sleep,” crawling up on the bed and into John’s arms. “Miss Mommy,” little voice filled with sadness.

“I know buddy, I do to,” holding him close John rose heading for the borrowed baby bed in the corner where Sam lay wide awake stared up at his father and brother, wiggling around.

“Where Mommy?” Dean questioned in his little voice, head resting on John’s shoulder looking down at his brother.

Eyes close, at a lost with how to answer him. “She’s in heaven Dean, an angel watching down on us all.”

It wasn't long enough It wasn't long enough together But it was long enough Yeah it was long enough to last forever

“Come back?” the soothing familiarity of John’s scent, the deep timber of his voice and warmth from his body starting to have a calming effect on Dean as his eyes start to droop.

“Not for a long time champ,” looking at Dean he sees the little man start to fall asleep and John starts for the door.

“Stay,” sleepy emerald eyes plead.

Nodding, detouring to his own bed, John lowered him to the soft mattress, covers to his chin, ruffling his hair, “Sleep now buddy.”

Nodding, big yawn leaving his little mouth as he snuggles down into the warmth, lids closing now that he feels so much safer, John stood watching for a moment. Seeing so much of Mary in Dean that his heart ached for their loss, that familiar sharp stab he knew wouldn’t be leaving any time soon if ever.

Leaning over, placing a soft kiss to his forehead before moving back towards Sam, and running a hand over his soft brown hair. He couldn’t think of anything more than honoring Mary’s memory, raising their boys, teaching and watching them grow.

Through deep down in a spot he hadn’t examined just yet the questions still swirled around his mind. Of why, and who? That this wasn’t fair to leave him alone when they promised forever. Anger briefly filled his veins, though he’s not sure who he’s angrier with, himself for not saving Mary, Mary for leaving them or the thing that killed her. However a glint of gold catches the soft white light from the lone lamp, his eyes going to his left hand ring finger a reminder of what he’s lost. Part of him wants to pull it off, tossing it into the nearest ocean. Yet the other part, the one in control couldn’t bear to lose the simple gold band, would keep it till the end

Sometimes I get so mad I scream I swear at this 'Cause this isn't how we planned it

I sit here in a cold room Praying, waitin' on you To run back through that door To the way it was before you left

Eyes close for a second before opening and focusing on Sam once more, picking the little bundle up into his arms and heading for the bed. Careful as he can, John sat in bed with his back against the headboard just watching both his boys sleep. Tomorrow would come as it always does, tomorrow he’d start to figure out this life without Mary in it, tomorrow begins the rest of his life. A life unplanned, as she’s been taken too soon, it just wasn’t long enough for John’s liking it never would be.

Sliding down into bed on his side, he placed Sam beside him, arm above his boys, John fell into restless sleep, as nightmares filled his mind, making him wake many times to check and see that at least part of his family still lives. He tries to sleep again feeling the soft touch of cold upon his brow making them furrow for a second before smoothing out and rest finally taking him.

It wasn't long enough It wasn't long enough Together But it was long enough Yeah it was long enough To last forever

Been cheated, defeated Can't believe that you're are gone You're gone, You're gone Oh it was wrong, so wrong

It wasn't long enough It wasn't long enough It wasn't long enough No it wasn't long enough It wasn't long enough together But it was long enough Yeah it was long enough to last, to last, to last forever

It wasn't long enough [Repeat: x3] No, it wasn't long enough It wasn't long enough [Repeat: x3] It wasn't long enough [Repeat: x2]

[juicifeur]

Paranoia (Dean x reader)

A/N: Angst. Feedback always welcome! @mcdoyle22

also, I am looking for more forever tags, so if you or any of your mutual wants to be tagged, message me :)

Word Count: 1,647

Your time was winding down much too quickly for your liking. And you just got more and more nervous with every passing minute. Your stomach leaped into your throat whenever you heard a dog howling. You shifted your weight, flinched, every time you thought about what Hell had done to your friends. You cried when you showered, because that was usually the only time you had to yourself.

Crying alone could be the worst feeling in the world. The aches in your chest and the overwhelming feeling of weakness, like you couldn’t sink any lower.

Dean and Sam had both commented on you acting as though something was wrong for the past few days but you shook it off, telling them that it was all okay on your end. It definitely wasn’t all okay, but you made it seem that way to the best of your ability. 

It had been almost six months since both of the Winchester brothers had been badly injured on a hunt. They walked, more like limped, their way to the car where they both quickly fell unconscious. It was a spell that had been put on them. They were bleeding badly from their stomachs and lungs and eyes and watching them suffer was one of the hardest things you’d ever had to do.

Especially as you watched Dean.

You drove them to the nearest hospital, they went into the ER, then the ICU and were attached to multiple machines and IVs with a low chance of survival as the nurses told you. It was the first time that you actually feared something: living in a world without the Winchesters and you had a rational reason behind it.

When they woke up, you lied right to their faces. Years of hunting and pretending made you believable.

You’d been jittery every since. Flinching at every drop of a tack.

You’d known the boys for eight whole years, at first only by reputation, and been together with Dean for five of those years. He didn’t like you much at first. You poked his ears on long car trips, you sung badly, and loudly, to all his least favourite songs. He’d even once referred to you as ‘the annoying little sister he never wanted’. But after you saved his ass from a werewolf, he started to warm up to the idea of being friends.

Being friends turned into something much more after a year and a half of traveling around with the brothers. He’d realized his feelings first, which surprised him as well as Sam, and he asked you out on a date; which in Dean’s dictionary most likely meant a burger and making out in the back seat of the Impala with his hands roaming your body. How romantic.

It hadn’t turned out like that at all. 

Dean Winchester had taken the time to make a reservation at a small restaurant that didn’t smell like grease and high cholesterol and he’d gone out and bought you a single red rose. At that point Sam was worried what had possessed Dean to get him to act this way, but after some convincing (and holy water) you and Dean left that current motel room for a surprisingly sweet evening.

To say that both brothers meant a lot to you was a major understatement. You would do anything for them; including sell your soul.

You knew it was stupid. But you were desperate.

   “Hey, babe?” Dean snapped you out of your thoughts.

   “You’ve been staring at that book for over an hour, are you okay?” He sat down across from you at one of the tables in the library and rested his hand on yours. 

It was true, you were still on the same page as you had been an hour ago, your eyes absently scanning the words without even reading them. Now they looked up to the green eyes of Dean Winchester. He looked worried.

   “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.” You said, fake yawning.

   “Y/N, you’ve been saying that for the past month and a half. Talk to me.”

Oh, god, how you wanted to tell him. So you could work through this together. He was too sweet on you and it made you feel absolutely horrible for lying to him. But it was better this way; it would be painful, but it was better. Your heart beat a little faster and you tried to control your breathing, you would just have to lie. Again.

   “Really, Dean. I’m fine.” You smiled softly and stood up from your seat, Walking around the table to place a short kiss to his lips. He nodded, believing you as always, and you walked out of the library.

Sam and Dean were leaving for a hunt the next morning. Your last day, of all days that they could have chosen.

Sam had hugged you and told you not to burn down the bunker. Dean hugged you, kissed you sweetly and told you to be safe.

   “I love you, Y/N.” He mumbled when your head was tucked under his chin. His fingers ran through your hair softly.

You didn’t say it back. You knew he loved you and he knew that you loved him; but you couldn’t say it. It would hurt too much.

   “Come back in one piece for me, okay Winchester?” You looked up at him, patting his cheek gently. He gave you that adorable, albeit goofy grin of his and he kissed your forehead. It was one of the many things you’d miss. 

   “Will do, baby.” He smiled and squeezed your hand one last time before getting into the driver’s seat beside Sam and pulling away from the bunker’s front door.

You watched as the Impala rolled away onto the main road and waited until it was out of sight before you went back inside, where you realized you were crying.

You spent a while cleaning your room, making it look like you’d never lived there at all. Some of the things you found under the bed and in small boxes made your head swim in memories, good and bad. One picture of the brothers, Castiel and yourself that Bobby singer had taken, you slid into your pocket.

You wrote a note and left it on Dean’s pillow. You told him how sorry you were, to look out for Sammy, and most importantly not to try and get you out. You knew they would try. You went to his dresser and pulled out one of his flannels, slipping it over your shoulders. It smelled like him.

You found a bottle of whiskey and sat down at one of the tables in the library, pouring yourself a glass; then another, and another, until your mind started to numb, along with your fingers.  Drinking had always helped numb the pain for a while, but it always came back in the form of a hangover. Luckily, this time, you wouldn’t be around for that.

The bunker was eerie when you were by yourself. No classic rock playing in the distance, no fingers tapping on a keyboard, just silence and the ticking of the clock that seemed to get louder and louder every breath you took.

It was nearly dark when you weakly climbed the stairs to get to the front door. It was heavy, but you got it open. The cool air that rushed through the archway went straight through you, making you shiver, but it wasn’t going to stop you from getting outside. You weren’t going to make another mess for the boys to clean up, and you weren’t going to use up their goofer dust just to buy yourself more time. If your time was up, then your time was up.

Six months wasn’t a lot of time, considering that ten years was the usual minimum. One year would have been plenty for you, but unfortunately your crossroads dealer hadn’t given you the terms and conditions.

You walked down the road a bit before stopping at the turn around and sitting. The ground was cold, and you felt tears building in your eyes as you looked up at the sky, the clouds passing. You weren’t going to put up a fight. If Dean had been the one in your shoes, he would have told himself to go out guns blazing. 

But you? You wanted to leave this earth knowing that you did all you could. Fighting would just make it worse, and this way it would hopefully be quicker. You gripped your gun in your fist and took a deep, shaky breath as more tears started to fall. 

The howling started a few minutes later and your heart rate climbed higher and higher as the demonic sounds got closer. The invisible animals snarled and growled behind you and your knuckles went white as you held onto your gun, lifting it slowly to your temple.

Closer and closer the hounds got. The sound of their claws hitting the dirt road as they approached made you tremble with anxiety. Your stomach twisted into painful knots and sweat started gathering in your palms and on the back of your neck.

Tears streamed down your cheeks and finally you felt the warm breath of a Hellhound on your back. Your breath hitched in your throat and you heard two other hounds come up on the flank of the first. They snarled and circled you, closing you in to your impending demise. Crowley clearly didn’t teach them not to play with their food.

The sun had just started setting, sending the most beautiful colours across the clouds. You suddenly remembered coming out here with Dean to watch the sunset and a sad smile parted your lips. Peace surrounded you like a blanket and you only wished you could see Dean one last time.

You pulled the trigger; you heard the bang, but then everything went black.

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