#maybe it is just like. the series is a mile a minute and sam and max will constantly say things that arent true

[thehandwixard]

and a course you do have to take into account that the cartoon could not get more than a little risque because of the age rating. but they do get married in that one. marriage comes up a LOT in the telltale games but theres a fascinating awkward air over it

[underground-secret]

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

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

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

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

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

Word Count: 15,139

Faith

(Master list, Prev. Ch, Next Ch)

I hate hospitals.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dean’s POV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your POV

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

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

“Not happenin’” Sam retorts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Would it?” I counter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dean’s POV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your POV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn't know,” Sam answers quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How would we break it?” Sam voices.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hell of a week” he answers.

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

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

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

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

Huh.

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

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

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

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

[jackfrombaskinrobbins]

✰ breakfast with the avengers, as a teenage avenger!! (headcanons)

type of writing: headcanons / scenario

wordcount: 979

characters: a lot LMAO a few main ones are clint barton, scott lang, miles morales, harley keener, the reader, steve rogers, and tony stark.

a/n: just to make it clear, for the “teenage avenger” series, i have a core group of “teenage avengers”. this includes the reader, peter parker, harley keener, and miles morales :) also requests are open! lmk if you want a scenario or headcanons! can include the reader or not!!

-----------------------✰--------------------

the avengers might be the busiest people in the world.

however, they always make time at least once a month to have breakfast together at the compound.

it was steve’s idea (of course!!) but when he mentioned it for the first time, everyone quickly got on board.

pietro was so excited that he sped over to the cupboards, talking incoherently about chocolate chip pancakes.

however, he soon came back (in less than a second, ofc) with a sad face.

turns out, you all had an issue on your hands. 

there was no pancake mix, no bacon, no eggs, no fruit, no nothing!

ok, he was being dramatic. there was some food, but certainly not enough to feed ALL the avengers.

tony volunteered the “kids” ( you, harley, peter, and miles ) to go to the store.

clint decided he wanted to go too, and then scott decided to join at the last minute.

so the six of you piled into the car.

scott drove (regrettably -- the man has some issues with attention), you got shotgun, and peter, harley, miles and clint were all in the back.

now, you may be wondering why clint was in the back and not the front, because he seems to be a responsible adult in this situation.

well, first of all, have you met clint barton? do you even know what he’s like? 

second of all, the avengers have a very strict “you call it, you get it” policy when it comes to the car.

this happened when thor “accidentally” stepped on scott’s foot so that he could get in the front seat.

anyways scott definitely plays cheery 70s music in the car.

he turns it up super loud and sings along (very off key)

every single time that man stops at a stoplight he turns around with an eager look on his face. harley is usually on his phone, but peter and miles try to give him a smile.

clint’s just flipping him off :) 

so once y'all get to the store, it's time to get serious.

well, in harley, peter, miles, and your eyes.

for clint and scott? debatable.

as you're all getting the cart, somehow clint and scott slip away.

and then you hear it.

" y/n !!! y/n !!! "

you turn at the mention of your name to see clint barton, that silly little guy, holding six lightsabers in his hands.

how he got six of them in like less than a minute is a great question.

and yet, it's the coolest thing you've seen all week.

immediately, the whole trip is overtaken by all of you chatting about how to use the lightsabers.

some ideas include; scaring tony by calling him into a dark room where you all turn them on at the same time, scaring steve by calling him into a dark room where you all turn them on at the same time, scaring sam by calling him into a dark room where you all turn them on at the same time...

ok maybe they were kind of unoriginal.

you decided that you would consult sam + bucky (the prank masters ofc) later to get some advice.

anyways you bought so much stuff.

like there were literally three carts of food.

on the way home, clint had to ride in the trunk LMAO

btw the compound is so cool and high tech that once you pull the car into the garage and open the trunk, there’s this little robot that sorts everything out and then puts it in tubes that take it to the pantries and fridges. 

it’s very convenient because it would’ve taken you all like fifteen trips, even with super strength or whatever 

so now you’re finally back up in the kitchen

and pietro keeps telling you all how hungry he is

wanda tells him to stop and literally makes a forcefield with her magic so he can't interrupt y'all LMAO

now you're actually good at cooking.

im gonna go ahead and say you, sam, and wanda are the best cooks in the compound.

happy is actually good too, he just never wants to HAHA

but you made a deal with him that you wouldn't bother him for three days if he helped you so he's in the kitchen now.

he even wore this super cheesy "kiss the cook" apron that tony got him for christmas once

AND a chef hat.

anyways so y'all have to make a LOT of food.

i mean the avengers are the avengers, they get really hungry.

so originally miles & peter & harley wanted to help you, but then peter somehow cut his finger plugging in the waffle iron? so you just put him in charge of music.

and then harley kept accidentally knocking the pancake mix everywhere.

so then sam made him stand by him and watch him cook.

miles was good though, he has skills.

you had to make pancakes AND waffles, because nobody could come up with what was best.

once when you were on winter break, you tried to have a final competition on whether pancakes or waffles were better.

just as pancakes were in the lead, dr strange came in and said waffles were the best.

so now you always have to make both.

you enlisted steve to help bring everything to the table.

he's really good at balancing like six or seven plates at a time.

scott was ready to help too, but you just made him set the table instead because otherwise he was gonna get hurt.

once everything was done and on the table, you all sat down.

but then just as you were ready, the lights went out.

and that kind of freaked you out, because i mean, yeah.

AND THEN YOU SAW A SINGLE LIGHTSABER TURN ON.

so you turned the lights back on and yelled at clint for scaring you.

and then you all ate together :)

-----------------------✰--------------------

[whump-tr0pes]

Honor Bound 6 - 28

Honor Bound 6 - 28 (Chronic Pain) @badthingshappenbingo

Red X for posted, white X for requested! Send in your requests! If you don’t see a prompt here that you already requested, please send it again!

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel to Honor Bound, Honor Bound 2, Honor Bound 3, Honor Bound 4, Honor Bound 5, and the prequel Vera.

AO3

Masterlist

Contents: tattooing, chronic pain, old injury, blood, past consensual sex, negotiating boundaries

~

By the time Brandon had finished half of Zachariah’s tattoo, Sam was beginning to sweat through their shirt. Zachariah had long since sweat through his. Sweat was beading on his brow, running into his eyes, and Brandon had given him a rag to mop his face so he would be more comfortable.

“Just let me know if you need to stop, man, and we can stop,” Brandon had said a few times. Every time Zachariah would bite his lip and shake his head and say he was fine, really, and Brandon would keep going, at least until the next time he would ask. He was asking it every few minutes, now.

Still, Sam hoped no one would notice how much pain they were in. Sitting on this stool with nothing to support their arm, the old wound had long since begun to ache. Old, throbbing pain radiated up and down their arm. The palm of their right hand prickled where normally there was only unsettling numbness. They cradled their arm against their chest.

It had been so, so long since they’d had a bad pain day.

Still, thankfully, everyone seemed to be focusing on Zachariah. It was nice to find the luxury even to be in pain without drawing the worried and guilty glances of their family. Living under the watchful eyes of Isaac, Gavin, and Gray was – well, it was what Sam wanted, but it came at the price of knowing their pain hurt the ones they lived with and loved so dearly. It was nice to be able to exist, even in pain, and not have to so carefully mask it, even for a few hours. Masking it took more energy, which made the pain worse, which just made it harder to mask—

A hand fell on their shoulder. They flinched and sucked in a gasp. Fire jolted through their wound to their hand and they cried out.

Brandon pulled the tattoo machine away from Zachariah’s shoulder and all eyes turned to Sam. They shuddered and ducked their head at the awful, familiar guilt and worry in everyone’s eyes, the way everyone seemed to reach for them at once…

“I’m fine,” they bit out – an instinct. Their hand spasmed against their chest.

“Whoa,” Brandon mumbled as he set the tattoo machine to the side. “You all good?”

“I’m fine,” Sam said, more forcefully this time. “It’s just—”

“You’re really pale,” Isaac said weakly. It was his hand on their shoulder that had startled them.

Sam squeezed their own wrist tightly as they dragged in a shaky inhale, pushed out a hissing exhale. “Yeah,” they croaked.

“Do we need to take a second?” Brandon said. Sam raised their eyes to him. He looked as relaxed as if they were talking about their lunch plans, as if Sam wasn’t moments away from throwing up all over his floor.

“No,” Sam breathed, squeezing their eyes shut and forcing another deep breath. “No, you can keep going. This is just… this is just something that happens.”

Zachariah shifted in his chair. “Um… I think… I might need a minute.” His voice was shaking, sweat beading on his upper lip. He looked like he had just run ten miles.

“Sure,” Brandon said, nonchalant as could be. He set the tattoo machine and stained cloth down.

The fire was fading, but the crushing ache was not. Sam leaned their head against Isaac’s chest as he stood beside them. “G-getting better,” they murmured. “It’s just… I think it’s just sitting here. Making my arm hurt.”

“Fair enough,” Isaac said gently. He wound his arms around them and held them close. It felt nice to be held, even though Sam could feel his heart hammering against their cheek through his shirt. “Maybe I can take you home? Gavin can stay here with Zachariah?”

“Uh…” Zachariah sounded better than he had a minute ago, but not by much.

Sam lifted their head and glanced at Zachariah.

He stared at Brandon apologetically. “Could I actually… be done for today? I’m sorry, but… it’s more than I thought I could—”

Brandon lifted a gloved hand, stained with ink and blood. Zachariah fell silent. “No problem at all, dude. Like I said, we didn’t have to finish this today. Let me cover this, and you can just come in tomorrow and I’ll finish you up. Deal?”

“Deal,” Zachariah huffed, sagging with relief. Sam sagged with him. Isaac’s arm wound around their shoulders, and they nearly slumped off their stool and into his embrace. Gavin appeared at their other side. Their mouth twitched, and embarrassment prickled in their stomach, before they raised their eyes to look at him; he looked pale, too, and tired.

He probably needs rest more than any of us right now.

Still, Sam could tell by the hard set of his mouth that nothing could have pulled him away from watching the Stormbeck crest disappear from Zachariah’s shoulder.

“—'ll probably bleed a bit,” Brandon was telling Zachariah as Sam blinked against the pain fogging their thoughts. “And leak some ink. If there’s more blood than, like, just a little bit, come see me. But don’t worry about a little blood and ink. I mean. You’ve had a tattoo before.”

“Yeah,” Zachariah said weakly. He flinched as Brandon wrapped clear plastic over the half-finished tattoo.

“Yeah, so, tomorrow morning I have another job, but tomorrow afternoon I’m free. Come by then and I’ll finish you up. Everybody good to make it home?” Brandon looked around at everyone, his eyes staying on Zachariah longest. Sam nodded and leaned against Isaac.

“W-we’ll make it,” Gavin murmured through pale, thin lips. His arm slid around Sam’s waist, although he looked like if Sam leaned even slightly against him, he would collapse.

The sweat on Zachariah’s skin was already starting to dry. He raised his damp t shirt and mopped his brow, then looked at Sam. He offered them a tentative smile.

“Halfway there,” he said softly, and held out his hand to them. His palm was warm as they slid their hand into his.

Brandon tore the plastic wrap and tucked in the ends, smoothing down the last stray bits. “Okay, you’re all good,” he said, and rolled his little table of tattoo supplies against the wall. The tattoo machine clinked as he began to disassemble it.

Sam released Zachariah’s hand and pushed themself unsteadily to their feet. Zachariah rose beside them. Isaac and Gavin stayed on Sam’s either side, Isaac being especially careful not to jostle Sam’s arm. Sam breathed slowly through the pain, which had dulled now to a steady throb. The pain hadn’t been this bad in… in weeks. Still, it crawled into their muscles, digging into their very bone, and ate at them. When they passed through the door to Brandon’s shack and felt the cool breeze on their face, they heaved a sigh of relief.

“Home, then?” Isaac said gently. His eyes belied his worry, but… there wasn’t as much guilt there as Sam expected.

They leaned into him, but froze as they felt Gavin stumble at their other side. They chewed their lip and caught themself casting a worried glance of their own at Gavin. “Um…”

“Why don’t…” Zachariah stared at his feet as he spoke. Sam hoped that one day he wouldn’t look so frightened, all the time. “I mean, um… Sam, if it works for you… you could come over to my place, and, um… I’ll…”

I’ll take care of you.

Sam swallowed past the lump in their throat that formed at Zachariah’s unsaid words. They forced a smile.

“…I’ll make us dinner if you want. And we could just hang out… have a quiet night.”

Sam blinked.

“Sam?” Isaac said. “Does that sound okay?”

“Um.” Sam met Zachariah’s eyes, stomach fluttering with embarrassment. He had never been the one to coddle them, not when they had to wear the sling, not when they needed to sleep half the day because they were still healing, never. Still, if Zachariah were to take care of Sam… they couldn’t imagine him ever making them feel guilty for it. They nodded numbly. “Yeah,” they said. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

A shy smile played at Zachariah’s lips. “Great,” he breathed.

Sam squeezed Gavin with their intact arm and laid their head against Isaac’s shoulder. “See you back at the house later, then?”

“Only if you want to,” Isaac said, and kissed the crown of Sam’s head. “If it works better for you to stay the night at Zachariah’s, no worries there.”

“Sounds good,” Sam said, and stepped away. Isaac and Gavin waved at the two of them as they headed toward their house. Before they could disappear from sight, Gavin collapsed against Isaac’s side. Isaac’s arm wound around Gavin’s waist and they kept walking like that, Gavin leaning all his weight against Isaac, until they turned a corner and disappeared from Sam’s sight. Sam swallowed hard and looked up at Zachariah. This time, neither of them bothered to conceal the worry on their faces.

∴

Zachariah’s cooking was amazing. Now that Sam thought about it, they didn’t think they had ever had a dish that Zachariah had made himself. Cooking was so often a communal thing with the family, and so often something simple that could be thrown together quickly to serve six people, then seven, growing until they were a ten-person family; rice, some kind of vegetable, and some kind of meat with a delicious sauce was the usual fare. Besides, that made leftovers easy, too. For someone to cook something just for themselves was so rare that it almost never happened.

Still, Sam could scarcely believe that they had gone all this time – more than three months – without tasting Zachariah’s cooking. Even without the fancy spices that he was used to having in the city, he had made some kind of rice-and-tomatoes-and-chicken dish that had Sam going back for seconds, even still a little nauseated from the pain. Now they were stretched out on the couch, regretting the second helping but happy to be cuddling in Zachariah’s lap, a sack of microwaved dry rice propped under their sore arm. They heaved a sigh and rested their head against Zachariah’s broad chest.

“Good?” Zachariah murmured, and Sam detected the slightest hint of self-satisfaction in his voice. It made them smile.

“You know it was,” they groaned, burying their face in his shirt to hide their smile. “You… you tricked me into eating so much. You… coerced me, Zachariah Medina.” Pain twinged through their old wound. They sucked in a breath through their teeth and held their hand tightly to their chest.

Zachariah’s mouth made a firm line. “Still pretty bad, huh?” He shifted the bag of rice, pulling it higher into Sam’s armpit.

“No, it’s, ah…” Sam pushed out a slow, shaky breath. “Not as…” Their stomach lurched, and they clenched their teeth together to keep from being sick all over their own lap. Another slow breath in, another slow breath out. They glanced up and found Zachariah’s warm brown eyes staring into theirs.

His lips trembled – no, they weren’t trembling, they were just moving soundlessly like he was trying to choose which words to say. Sam closed their eyes. They couldn’t focus on both him and the pain at once. They couldn’t deal with—

“We… don’t have to hang out, if you don’t want to,” Zachariah said. Sam’s shoulders relaxed as they realized there wasn’t any disappointment in his voice at all. They opened their eyes again, their gaze unfocused. They wet their lips.

“I still want to… be around you,” they croaked. “I just… sorry, it’s just… hard to deal with… this. Right now.” Their left hand curled into a fist.

“I get that,” Zachariah said. “I do. So… how do you want to be around me? It’s up to you.”

Sam drew a deep breath in through their nose and blew it out through their lips. They glanced around the small living room. There wasn’t much to the space; there was a small table with a few chairs, some shelves set up that had been stocked with a few weeks’ worth of food, the kitchen leading off to the right. In the other direction led the hallway to the bathroom and bedroom. Sam’s eyes lingered on the hallway.

“Um…” Even without their meaning to, their mind strayed to the ways the both of them had spent their time together for the past month. While Gavin had been missing, Zachariah had been as much a prisoner in the farmhouse as if he had been chained there.  He couldn’t go on walks with the others like he used to, or swim in the lake, or go into town. There had been so little to do but lie in bed together, clothed at first, then not, then…

Sam swallowed hard and returned their gaze to Zachariah’s. “I’d just really like to lie down,” they said woodenly.

And I don’t want to fuck you tonight. Please, please don’t ask me to fuck you tonight.

Zachariah nodded once. “Sounds good,” he said, and opened his arms.

Sam felt tired in their bones as they pushed away from his chest and stiffly got to their feet. The warm bag of rice slid onto the couch cushions, but Zachariah waved their hand away from it.

“Let me,” he said with a gentle smile.

Sam shuffled to the bedroom, not bothering to turn on the light before they crawled on top of Zachariah’s blanket. They lowered themself onto the left side and curled into a limp ball. The bed dipped as Zachariah joined them.

“I don’t want to have sex tonight,” Sam mumbled.

There was a slight huff as Zachariah tucked the warm compress under Sam’s arm and settled behind them, curling around their body and pulling them close. “I figured,” he said softly. “I don’t feel like it, either.” There was a smile in his voice.

“Yeah?” Sam shivered as he nuzzled into the back of their neck, pressing a small kiss into their curls – and then he settled, his breath fanning out over their hair.

“Yeah.” Zachariah’s thumb rubbed back and forth, back and forth on their left wrist. They were grateful for the touch, for his warmth, and for the fact that this was the extent of it. Isaac would be worried, and guilty, and sad, his hands reaching out to Sam, perhaps clutching at them so that he could remind himself that they were alive, and that he wasn’t about to lose them, but Zachariah… Zachariah just was.

“Hmmm,” Sam hummed. The heat was helping. As their muscles relaxed, the pain ebbed, just the slightest bit. Still, their palm kept tingling. They wondered if this pain would last, or if it would be gone when they woke.

Continued here

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[my-supernatural-rewatch]

Episode Six: Skin

Dean Winchester in the Supernatural episode Skin

I love this episode. LOVE it. Loved it the first time I saw it, loved it the fifth (maybe sixth?) time I've seen it.

It's dark and scary and we get a monster version of Dean (!!!!) and Shape Shifters! (I love Shape Shifters. They might be my favorite monster!)

An email from a college friend of Sam's sends the boys on a hunt to prove Sam's friend didn't kill his girlfriend and brings them face to face with a Shape Shifter.

We find out in this episode that Sam still keeps in touch with some of his college friends and Dean very obviously thinks this is weird because hunters can't get close to people. "Period."

Breaks my heart that Dean feels this way not just because John pretty much isolated him and the boys - although we later find there were other adults...hello Bobby and Adam's mother whose name I forget...who John DID interact with. So John got to have friends, Sam got to have friends, but not Dean.

Sam responds by calling Dean anti-social and AGAIN I wonder what the fuck Sam was paying attention to for the first 18 years of his goddamn life.

This might be the only episode where Dean complains about having to drive a long way. "St. Louis is 400 miles behind us, Sam." But I suspect his grousing is related more to not wanting to go pal around with Sam's friends and less about putting mileage on the Impala.

So we meet Sam's friend (the guy arrested for killing his girlfriend is this friend's brother and why is Sam friend's with them both? Are they twins? I have questions with no answers.) and to get her to let them help, Sam lies and says Dean is a cop. And she believes him.

At this point in the series, anyone who believes either one of these guys is a cop really kind of deserves whatever befalls them.

Dean is, interestingly, still not on board with Sam lying to his friend.

In previous episodes Sam, because he is so wrapped up in finding John and finding Jessica's killer, has been the one to complain about taking a job with the old "Tihs isn't our kind of problem" but today it's Dean.

Again, methinks, because it's Sam and his friends and Dean is feeling bad about that. (We'll get to that in a minute.)

Smart Dean is back with an expository explanation of Shape Shifters lore. Thanks, Dean!

Dean also figures out that the shifter is escaping through the sewer and not flying, as Sam suggested. Dean ALSO figures out that the shifters shed the person they've shifted into's skin once they're ready to shift again.

Blergh...gross...but okay. Good thinking, Dean.

When Sam's friend gets pissed at him when she finds out he lied about Dean being a cop, Dean gives him a brother talk about how the lying is why it's difficult for hunters to have friends. Culminating in this line:

"Hey, man, like it or not, we are not like other people. But I’ll tell you one thing. This whole gig...it ain’t without perks." And then he hands a gun to Sam. So, again, we get a glimpse into how Dean sees violence as a perk of the life he's been forced to live.

So...they find the place the shifter is holding up in the sewers and it gets the drop on Dean. Sam helps him up, Dean tells Dean to "Get the son of a bitch" and the next thing we know, after a chase through the streets, it isn't Dean with Sam...it's Shifter Dean.

(Here's where I add that monster/evil/bad Dean is my favorite Dean only second to In Love with Cas Dean.)

I have more questions becsaue it is never really made clear WHEN the shifter had time to shift AND tie Dean up before joining Sam. The timing doesn't work. Oh well. Forget it, Jake, it's Supernatural.

So we know Dean is actually the shifter but Sam doesn't and when they get to the car Shifter Dean asks Sam for the keys.

Another question: Sam didn't drive the car in this episode...why did he have the keys?

Anyhoo...Sam is no dummy and quckly deducts that this is not Dean. He quizzes him about another time John hunted a Shape Shifter but he shifter already has Dean's memories so he has the right answer. No biggie...Sam tosses the keys to Dean, who hurt his left shoulder when the shifter hit him in the sewer, and Shifter Dean catches it with his LEFT hand. Confimring to Sam this is not his brother.

Good on ya, Sam.

But, like Dean, the shifter gets the drop on Sam, drags him to the sewers and Jensen Ackles gets to chew the scenery (actually, it's incredibly well-acted and, once again, early on in this series, we see Jensen's acting chops growing with each episode) and he gives a villain monologue that I'm printing in it's entirety here because it is very important to Dean's background. (It's mostly monologue. Sam interrupts a couple of times but not with anything of import.)

"He’s sure got issues with you. You got to go to college. He had to stay home. I mean, I had to stay home. With Dad. You don’t think I had dreams of my own? But Dad needed me. Where the hell were you?

See, deep down, I’m just jealous. You got friends. You could have a life. Me? I know I’m a freak. And sooner or later, everybody’s gonna leave me. 

You left. Hell, I did everything Dad asked me to, and he ditched me, too. No explanation, nothin’, just poof. Left me with your sorry ass.

Now, yeah, I'm sure the shifter is reveling in upsetting Sam. But lets' be honest, there's a better than good chance (and I believe 100% absolute) that this is what Dean thinks. He's jealous...he's bitter...of course he had fucking dreams but he learned early on his dreams didn't matter. But Sam's dreams? THOSE mattered, didn't they?

Then just to twist the knife, he stops talking as if he IS Dean and leaves Sam with this bit of creepiness: "But, still, this life? It’s not without its perks. I meet the nicest people. Like little Becky. You know, Dean would bang her if he had the chance. Let’s see what happens. "

Ick.

Shifter Dean takes off and we hear from Dean Dean who is in the sewer with Sam. When he comes to, Sam tells him that the shifter is pretending to be him and Dean responds, "He's not stupid; he picked the handsome one."

Yes, Dean. Yes, he did.

So there is an incredibly creepy scene where Shifter Dean first is charming and sweet to Becky, apologizing for lying and getting her to hang with him and have beers. Then he gets continually creepy with her and she freaks and Shifter Dean goes to town on her (but doesn't kill her). It is sufficiently upsetting...this episode really is like a mini-horror movie - and, again Jensen Ackles kills it.

We get shirtless Dean/Jensen Ackles when the shifter shifts out of Dean's skin. It's scary, and gross, and a little hot, and reminiscent of An Ameican Werewolf in London.

It's Sam's turn to be detained (but not arrested) by the cops and even though he told Dean to stay away from the sewers...Dean of course doesn't and finds Becky being held there...the shifter is pretending to be Becky and knocks Sam out at her apartment.

Good thing Dean didn't listen to Sam because guess who has to save his dumb ass?

The shifter gets a great line in to Sam about Dean, "Your brothers' got a lot of good qualities. You should appreciate him more than you do."

Creepy Shifter Dude speaks the motherfucking truth, Sam.

After Sam takes the shifter down by kicking him (seriously...KICKING him) we get a pretty awesome Sam/Dean fight that tears up poor Becky's parents' house.

But Dean comes in and saves Sam's cheese by shooting the shifter (with a silver bullet) after a bit of a pause...I mean he IS shooting himself...and then he makes sure to grab the Samulet (that we don't yet know is the Samulet) off the shifter's neck.

Dean gets blamed for Sam's girlfriend's murder...but he's dead (because the shifter died as Dean) and Dean's only lament is that he would have liked to have seen his own funeral. Ahahaha. Dean, you card.

We do get one final great line from Dean before he jokes about being dead. He apologizes to Sam, much to Sam's confusion, and says:

"I really wish things could be different. I wish you could just be Joe College."

And even though I believe Dean feels the things that the shifter said he did, I also believe him here. Dean can feel both these things at the same time. He can be jealous that his brother got to have even a taste of a normal life but also really be sad that he had to leave that life.

Oh Dean. You never cease to hurt my heart just a little bit.

Some notes for posterity:

The significant music from this episode comes from Iron Butterfly - In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida, Free - All Right Now, and Lynyrd Skynyrd - Poison Whiskey.

Sam and Dean pretty much get to be who they are in this episode, except Sam tells Becky that Dean is a cop from Bisbee, Arizona, to which Dean corrects him and tells her he's a detective.

This hunt takes place in St. Louis, Missouri

No kisses. Sam gets a hug from Becky and Dean gets a wave

This is the first episode with a monster version of Dean!

[ghostly-wisp]

MR. LOVERMAN, CHAPTER 1

[series masterlist] [chapter 2] [chapter 3]

in which, the newly divorced teacher across the hall from you is more charming than you expected.

“Hey, have you introduced yourself to the new guy?” Asks your co-worker, and best friend, Sam. The two of you sharing lunch in solidarity of your classroom. Most of the time, the lunch wave was spent between the two of you talking about crazy things students said or airing out problems either of you had with other co-workers. Today, it seemed like it was going to be about the new science teacher that everyone and their mom was obsessed with. 

Mr. Pascal transferred to your school just this year, replacing the old science teacher that retired the previous year. From what you understood from students, along with some teacher, he was an absolute heart throb. You were lucky enough to have your classroom across from his, so you’ve seen him a few times — but you never got a chance to actually speak to him yet. “No,” you reply. “I’ve been meaning to, though. Is he nice?” 

Sam nods, taking a bite of their salad while leaning back in the uncomfortable spinny-chair. “I thought so. We talked briefly, I asked him how long hes been teaching and why he moved here n’ such.” they hum, “I think I made him uncomfortable.”

“How would you have done that?” Sam for the most part, in front of other adults – lacks a certain filter, though you would still have expected longer before Sam would say something to make the new guy uncomfortable. “When I asked about why he moved here, he told me it was his recent divorce.. I think she cheated on him or something, he wasn’t excited to talk about it.” 

“Most people wouldn’t be,”

“Hey! In my defense, I thought he was just going to say the pay was higher or something! Not my wife left me!” after a moment of silence, Sam continues. “How haven’t you introduced yourself yet? He’s right across the hall from you.” To which you shrug, “I just haven’t had the time yet. Things are so busy, the year just started.” 

For the rest of the day, Sam’s words stick with you. Hes right across the hall, and you haven’t had the decency to even say hello to him. Though, you wonder if he was really bothered by it, maybe he would introduce himself to you by now.

The last five minutes before the bell rings is normally an unproductive time, students are packed up and standing by the door, so you never actually continue “bell-to-bell” teaching philosophy, it just doesn’t work out, and if you’re being fair, you’re far too tired at the end of the day too. “Miss,” one of your students says, breaking out of your concentration to the computer screen, you turn to see what the student might want, to your surprise, they only point to the teacher in your doorframe, Mr. Pascal. 

“Sorry to bother you,” He says, his voice is deeper than you imagined it to be. Catching you by surprise just a little bit, “I need to print some things, and I can’t quite get the grasp on how to work the one down the hall. Can you help me out?” 

The printer was a tricky thing, theres a card swipe, password, authorization and then how many you want printed. To anyone who doesn’t quite know how to work it – you had a difficult time when you first started. 

“Yeah, its a major pain in the–” you cut yourself off, realizing that you’re still in the presence of teenagers, and while “ass” is not really a “bad word” and they most definitely say worse things, you still have to watch your mouth. You stand and make your way out of the classroom, making sure you had your lanyard. “Have you sent the papers to the printer?” you ask, to which he nods. “It’s just not showing on the little screen thing.” 

The printer isn’t that far of a walk, but it feels like it was one hundred miles. Especially since the silence between you two. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” you say after the tension proved to be too much for you, “I’ve heard a lot about you.” The printer seems like its getting further away rather than closer. Though he chuckles at your comment, “Good things, I hope.” 

“You can say that.” 

Another chuckle, followed by “My name is Pedro, it’s very nice to meet you, officially.” 

You smile softly to him, as you get to the printer, finally. 

“Okay– swipe your card here, and then put in the code they gave you–the one on the back of your ID card.” He does as you say, and much to his relief, he finally saw the access granted. “The printers here are tricky, take a while to learn.” you laugh, watching him put in the number he needed, and listened to the printer whirl as it started to work. 

“At my old school, they just let us have printers in our room—I was very upset to learn that thats not allowed here. Unless you’re an art teacher.” 

“They don’t allow a lot of things, some teachers do it anyway. I keep a mini fridge hidden under my desk.” you laugh, “Sometimes, we’re no better than the students.” 

He hums, “I guess so. Though, it would be very hard for me to hide a printer under my desk.” to this, you nod. “I guess it would be.”

Hes a lot more attractive up close than when you’re standing across the hall from him, the grays in his beard compliment him nicely, which isn’t something that happens for most people very often. You also like his sense of style, the black button up paired with the dark blue tie, the dark dress pants with the slim belt he wore—you can’t deny that men who know how to dress themselves seem to be more attractive than most. You can see what everyone was saying, he was a heart throb. You can’t help but wonder, what kind of person would cheat on that. “Thank you so much,” he says, turning over to you. Its only now that you notice his tie is decorated with little planets and constellations. How appropriate for a science teacher. 

“Its no problem, let me know if you have any other problems, always happy to help.” 

“I’ll make sure to keep that in mind.”

“So,” Sam says, their voice is sing-songy, like they’re trying to hide something they’re clearly excited about. “I heard that you and Mr. Pascal have been spending a lot of time together between classes, you’re not trying to replace me, are you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you laugh, grabbing a water from your mini fridge. “He’s new, he’s just needed help with a few things and I’m right across the hall.”

“Thats not what Jenny said!” Their tone is still playful, though they’re pointing their finger to you, accusatory. “Jenny doesn’t know me,” you respond. “She said we were dating when I first started here!” 

“Fair point.” Sam shifts in their chair, “So you haven’t been hanging out with him?”

“Well, not between classes, but I occasionally go into his classroom to help him with websites and such.” your smile is tight, you didn’t realize just how often you two had been sharing time in his classroom the past few weeks. “He’s really sweet, you know. I get why the students like him.”

“They like him because hes good looking.” Sam replies, you raise your hands, “I said what I said.”

Sam lets out a laugh, “So you’ve fallen into the ongoing list of people captivated by this man?” they ask, as if they weren’t pretty high on the list themselves. “Not that I’m one to talk.”

You shrug, “I dunno if I’d say I’m captivated. But I can admit hes very good looking,” if anyone was a winner of the genetic lottery – it was Florence Pugh and Mr. Pascal. “This is highly inappropriate talk for work,”  

Pedro was newly divorced, surely, the last thing on his mind would be the younger english teacher across the hall from him, right? Thats what you stuck to telling yourself. Every time you hovered over his chair while pointing out how to work the teacher-portal to the grading site or how you thought he was looking at you in the break room during quick conversations, even if he was looking for a relationship – there were plenty of single teachers closer to his age he would be more interested in. Like Jenny, who seemed to ruin your small moments in his room. 

“Thank you so much, Y/N. Seriously, I would be lost without you.” Pedro huffs, looking up to you, your triumphant smile evident, after many explanations and pointing, you finally taught him how to set up his smartboard screen to be different than his computer screen. “You flatter me, Pedro.” you tease. Going to take a seat back in the chair you had pulled up earlier. He smiles his normal soft, heart-warming smile – “So uh, I’ve been thinking –” 

“Ms. L/N!” Jens voice comes in, she sounds happy to see you, but anyone knew that was forced. As much as teachers are forced to come across as one big happy tight-knit family in front of students and parents, if you throw in 100 something people together, not everyone is going to get along. This just happens to be the case for you and Jen, or Jenny — luckily for you, she teaches art downstairs. So you rarely have to interact, but shes been spending a lot more time upstairs as of late. Unfortunate for you. “It’s so funny that I caught you here, I was just looking for you in your room. One of my students was talking about some assignment you posted, they got confused about it n’ I told them to talk to you, I had to talk to Mr. Pascal, so I walked with them up here, figured when you weren’t in your room this is where you’d be.” 

“Thanks, Jen.” you reply, slowly standing up, your attention turns back to Pedro, who seems upset that you’re leaving before he could finish what he had to say. “Hold that thought for me, okay?” he only nods in response, watching you walk out the door. It's too bad, too, he should really learn to close his classroom door whenever you come by, perhaps this way there would be less distraction, and less of Jenny.

TAGLIST

@djarinsstuff

[calaryssia]

Unexplainable | Sam's Back

Dean Winchester X OC

Unexplainable Series

Word Count: 5.3k

"what's wrong sam?" i ask, he sighs looking down before looking back up at me again.

"i'm sorry. for everything i did to you while i was soulless. shamelessly flirting with you. toying with your feelings. i'm really sorry." i sigh looking into his hurt filled eyes.

"sam, it's not your fault. you didn't care." i say putting my hand on his that was laying on the table.

"i do now. belle, when you showed me your home and that field. i felt connected to you. those feelings. i do like you belle. i have since then. which for you was a long time but for me not so much. i just want you to know that, just because i didn't care then doesn't mean i don't care now." i nod before pulling him into a hug. i pull away looking at him confused again.

"wait, who told you?"

"cas."

"ah." he sighs getting up from the table.

"i'm gonna go talk to dean." i nod as i watch him walk away. maybe my grandma was right. only time will tell. 

bobby had brought us into the living room to his desk. he wanted to tell us about the journal we had found in the dragons lair.me, bobby and dean sat in the living room of bobby's house. bobby was on one side of the desk while me and dean sat on the other.

"sam's still asleep?" bobby ask as he sips on his whiskey in his hand.

"yeah." dean mumbles out as he doesn't look at bobby.

"he'll wake up." i say looking at dean. he keeps his eyes away from us.

"yeah." dean says again.

"dean, he's been through how much? somehow he always bounces back." bobby says trying to lift dean's spirits up a bit.

"he's never been through this." dean drags on as he looks down at the paper in front of bobby. "job?"

"hmm, might be." bobby says throwing the piece of paper over to dean so he could see it. dean picks it up.

"can i help? send me to the library? anything?" i look at dean as he asks this. the whole conversation that cas and him had just a few minutes ago, really didn't sit well in him. he was scared that he would lose his brother.

"couple goes up on a light plane. wreckage was found in the woods." bobby explains.

"couple of buddy hollys doesn't really seem like 'news of the weird.'" dean says handing bobby back the paper as he leaned back in his seat. bobby hands be the paper before explaining more.

"pilot was found seventeen miles away, flambéed. girl's just gone. no body, no nothing." hm, that's interesting.

"okay, i'm not changing the channel."

"dean." we hear from behind us. me and dean turn around quickly to see sam standing there. sam slowly walks into the room. looking at all of us with this still look on his face.

"sam?" dean says as he stands up. sam rushes over to dean giving him a big hug. me and bobby stand up, bobby makes his way around the table.

after sam hugs dean, he notices me and bobby. sam hugs me, his arms around my waist and mine around his neck. he holds me for a second, i can feel his breathe hitting my neck. he pulls away from me giving me a slight smile before he made his way to bobby.

they embrace for a second. "good to see you." bobby says as sam pulls back.

"wait. i saw you- i felt lucifer snap your neck." sam says looking at him confused. dean look at me for a second with a 'he doesn't remember' look.

"well, cas kind of-" bobby was cut off my sam.

"cas is alive?" sam says as he lets out a heavy breathe of relief.

"yeah, cas is fine. sam, are you okay?" dean says as he walks closer to him. sam smiles a little, before waiting a second to reply.

"actually, umm.. i'm starving." we all look at each other before i go to the kitchen and make sam a sandwich. he sits at the table and starts to eat, me and dean sit with him at the table.

"so, sam." dean starts off.

"yeah?"

"what's the last thing you remember?" dean asks as sam thinks for a second.

"the field, and then i fell." sam says as he glances at all of us before returning his attention to dean.

"okay, and then?" dean tries to pry more.

"um, i woke up in the panic room." death's barrier he put on sam's soul must have worked.

"that's it?" bobby questions. "you really don't remember-?"

"let's be glad." dean says cutting off bobby giving him a look. "who want to remember all that hell?"

"well, how long was i gone?" sam asks looking to me and bobby.

"about a year and a half." i say looking at sam with hurt in my eyes.

"what?" he glances back to dean. "i was downstairs-? i don't remember anything. so how'd i get back? was it cas? or did you find a way using magic?" he says looking to me questionably.

"not exactly." dean says making sam look at him while he just looked down at the table.

"dean, what did you do?" i look away not exactly wanting to be here for this part of the conversation.

"me and death-" dean says looking up at sam, which he was soon cut off.

"death? the horsemen?" sam asks raising his voice.

"i had leverage. it's done."

"you sure?"

"it's over. slate's wiped."

"well, isn't this just neat and clean?" i was glad that bobby said something. i would normally but dean was still mad at me, he was just hiding it mostly.

"yes, it is, for once." dean and bobby share a look making the room silent for a minute.

"is there anything else i should know?" sam asks looking to dean for an answer.

"no." dean says shaking his head. i try to keep a happy look on my face for sam's sake. "another beer?" dean asks him motioning to the bottle.

"uh, yeah." dean gets up and heads over to the fridge.

after a while bobby had gone outside and dean went to go check on him, which left me and sam alone. me and sam sat on the couch as we started to talk.

"so, how have you been the last year and a half. you haven't really said anything." sam says taking a sip of his beer. i half expected him to put his hand on my leg like he had been doing before, but then i remember that that was sam without a soul.

"um, nothing super. dean met my family." i laugh a little looking down at my hands. "my dad thinks he has a thing for me but, he thinks that every guy that comes by our house does. on a sadder note, my grandma died a couple of weeks ago." i look back up to sam to see him with a sad look on his face.

"i'm really sorry belle." he says putting his hand on mine which was on my lap still.

"it's fine, she was a great woman. i miss her but, i got some of her journal's, so did my brother. they are pretty interesting. some are about her witchcraft and others are just about life events, like when me, my dad and my brother were born. or when my dad got married, even when she got married." he smiles at me as he sees my face glow when i talk about it.

"that's great. have you started reading any yet?" he asks, keeping his hand still on mine.

"some, my brother and me read this one about when i was born. she mentioned how she thought i might be the natural witch. i guess she was right. my dad said that she always was." i say look in his eyes. he was very interested.

"i would love to read some of those, if you'd let me." he says kind of not sure if he should ask or not.

"yeah, i'm sure she wouldn't have minded. she told me to stick with you guys before she died. i guess she knew that my future lied with you both." he laughs a little.

"belle, i want you to know that i'm always going to be there for you. i kind of figured out that you and dean aren't in a good place. just the way he was acting." i sigh looking away.

"yeah, he's kind of mad at me for something stupid. he'll get over it. you know how dean is, stubborn." we both laugh. 

me, dean, and bobby are outside packing up the car. bobby and dean were going to go check out a hunt that they talked about earlier. i was planning to stay here with sam. dean closes the truck of the car as we finish putting everything in.

"sam still asleep?" bobby questions as he opens the door to the impala to put his bag in the front.

"yeah, let him rest. we'll call him later." dean says before we hear sam from behind us.

"call me from where?" sam asks as we all turn around to face him.

"oh. uh, there's this thing in oregon." dean starts to explain but sam cuts him off before he can finish.

"great. i'm in."

"whoa, whoa, you just got vertical."

"exactly. i'm up. i'm good."

"a few more days of cable couldn't hurt you." dean trys to protest.

"right, because that's what you did when you got back from hell." dean didn't try to argue with him.

"all right. you, me and bobby. and belle if you want to come." i nod at him.

"oh, you three go on ahead. you got this covered. i, uh, forgot i promised that idjit rufus i'd work the phones for him, so..." bobby says as he brings his bag from the car with him.

"you sure?" i ask bobby.

"yeah, yeah, yeah. you three enjoy catching up, okay?" he says before walking away. we all turn and look at him for a second.

"what was that?" sam asks, turning to dean.

"one part age, three parts liquor." dean says before making his way to the car. 

i slept most of the way there, being super tired still from the drive to sioux falls two days before. we got to portland not to long and we started to work the case. we went to the sister of the recent victims house to ask her some questions.

"you're, uh, penny dessertine's sister, right?" dean asks after we show her our badges. she nods at us.

"uh, we'd just like to ask you a few questions." sam says with his normal nice voice.

"look, the cops already came by. i'm tired. so if you don't mind." she says looking at us, hoping that we would just go away.

"i understand. really, i do. i know how hard this must be. we'd just like to figure out what happened. this will be quick, i promise." sam always did have a way with words.

"okay. fine. come in." she says moving into the house as we all follow her, dean lingering behind.

she had brought us to her room to look around. sam was looking down at a picture of penny and a guy. i stood next to him looking at the picture as well.

"penny was very shy. to herself." me and sam look up to her sister as she talked. "not at all what you'd call adventurous."

"not like flying through a lightning storm in a two-seater." dean says as he stands next to the night stand near the window.

"she was terrified of that thing. she just did it for stan."

"stan?" i say looking at her questionably.

"they were just starting to get serious. she didn't want to seem, you know, not interested. i just wish i'd told her to stay home. we don't even have a body to bury." we all look at her sadly. sam looks back down at the picture continuing to examine it.

sam was sitting at the table in the motel room while i laid down on one of the beds reading one of my grandma's journals. sam was researching. dean can through the door with drinks and food in his hands. sam said a quick hey before dean closed the door with his foot.

"what do you got?" dean asked making his way over to the table that sam sat at putting the food on the table.

"well, looks like those other two missing girls baked cookies for the lord." sam says as dean makes his way over to his bed which was across from sam's which was the one i was on.

"what is that, code?" dean asks turning back to sam.

"no. church choir, bake sales, uh, promise ring clubs, the works. they were good girls. but penny wasn't even a christian, so-" sam explains but is soon cut off by dean.

"i have another theory." dean says as he pulls out a diary.  "penny's diary."

"did you steal that from her room?" sam asks as i look up from the journal in front of me to dean. 

"i love that you even ask me that."

"and why wouldn't i?" well sam you wouldn't have for the last year and a half but, you don't know that.

"no reason. so girlnappings. what if it's not about religion? what if it's about purity?" dean pauses as him and sam share a look.

"you mean you think they're all-?" i question thinking i'm on the same page as dean.

"virgins, belle. virgins." dean says giving me a look before sitting on the chair across from sam.

"penny was twenty two." sam says not really believing it.

"yeah, with a pink room." dean says flipping through the pages of the diary he had in his hands.

"so?"

"and stuffed teddy bears." i say looking at sam with a tight smile.

"fine, but you really think-?" sam says while looking from me to dean. dean cuts him off by holding his finger up before reading from the diary.

"'i've decided i'm going to give stan my most precious gift.'" dean quotes from the girl before holding his arms out in a 'i'm right' gesture.

"wow. that sounded really creepy coming out of you mouth." sam says looking down kind of grossed out. i nod my head getting up to stand next to dean, as i read over his shoulder.

"i think i delivered it." dean says seeming full of himself.

"you know, you could have led with the diary, you know?" sam says as dean continues to flip through the diary and we both skim the pages. "anyways, let's say you're right. fine. who would want virgins?"

"some guys are into that." i say shrugging taking a seat back on the bed.

"i prefer ladies with experience." dean says smirking at sam as a joke. i laugh a little before going back to the journal i was reading once before. 

we heard of another victim, this one was left alive. we were in her room in the hospital questioning her. she was laid sideways on the bed looking up at us.

"it happened so fast."

"it's all right, melissa. what came at you? you can tell us." sam says looking at her with his sincere eyes.

"it-it looked like, uh.. a giant bat." sam and dean look to each other as melissa looked at them knowing what they were thinking.

"you think i'm making it up, right? that's what the other man said." she says looking away laying back onto her pillow.

"well, we aren't the other guy." i say as she meet my eyes. she started to open up more.

"it came right at me. it was huge. i swear. that's how i got this." she pulled her gown over to show us her back. she had deep cuts going down from her shoulder blade to her mid back. they had been stitched up but they still looked awful.

"so, it attacked, then what happened?" sam questions as the girl pulls the gown back to cover her before going back to the same position.

"i don't know. i passed out and when i woke up, it was gone." hm, why would it do that? maybe she's not a virgin and it didn't want her.

"anything else you can think of? anything you can tell us, even if it doesn't  important?"

"well, my ring got lost. or else that thing stole it, if that makes any sense."

"what kind of ring?" dean asks and melissa is quick to answer.

"gold. promise ring."

"promise ring. so, uh, from, like, a church, like a purity ring?" dean rambles with his question.

"yeah. why?"

dean cleared his throat. "i gotta ask. ahh... melissa, look, nobody is judging anybody here, okay? believe me. but should you really be wearing that ring?" dean caught on to my thoughts to.

"well, i mean, i am-"

"really?" melissa and dean share a harsh look. me and sam kind of sat there awkwardly.

"matt barne didn't count."

soon after we leave the hospital. we were still trying to figure out what this was and what the motive was with the virgins.

"so, what, you think batman tried to rape her?" sam asks as we start to walk out of the hospital and to the car.

"well, he does carry a lot of rage. but he rejected her because she was already dehymenated, huh?" dean went on.

"you think?" i ask looking to dean as i tried to keep up with them.

"i think it just goes to show that being easy is pretty much all upside." i roll my eyes and sam scoffs.

"so, what kind of thing likes virgins and gold?" sam asks exchanging glances with me and dean. i shrugged.

"p. diddy?" dean jokes, sam rolls his eyes.

"you know, it's comforting."

"what?"

"i did for a year, came back and you're still not funny." i laugh at sam's joke as we get to the car opening our doors.

"shut up. i'm hilarious." dean says as we get into the car. 

when we get back to the motel i decide to take a nap while the boys do research. i wake up to find only sam. he was looking through lore.

"hey, you're awake." he says looking over at me. "we figured it out, well sort of. we think it's a dragon."

i sigh sitting up rubbing a face with my hand for a second before getting up and heading over to sam sitting next to him. "i thought those didn't exist."

"well, apparently they do. and they like virgins." i laugh a little, we both stare into each other's eyes for a second.

"so, do you know where they hid out or how to kill them?" i say breaking the eye contact and looking to the laptop in front of us. i sit down on the chair next to him.

"um, dean is going to see one of bobby's friends about it and all i can find is caves." i let out a deep sigh before leaning back in my chair. sam gets up and heads over to the wall with all the pictures of the girls and the map on it. he looks at it for a second before pulling out his phone calling someone.

"hey. um, he went to go see your friend. so look, i'm trying to figure out where this thing lairs up. little help, maybe?" bobby. while he's talking he come and sits back down in the chair facing me. "... caves, basically. but there's nothing around for miles.... huh." he says getting up again going around me back over to the wall with the pictures. i turn to look with him but stay in my chair. "well, um, there's no subway lines. sewers. that could be it. thanks... wait, bobby. wait, um. you okay?.." i look at him confused. was there something wrong with bobby?

".. besides the way you've been acting and talking, nothing." sam says into the phone kind of acting like a dad talking to his attitude filled kid. "is there something i should know?" he continues walking pacing a little around the room.

"...well, bobby, what happened this last year?" sam asks sitting in front of me again. i give him a 'what are y'all talking about?' look and he holds up his finger to tell me to wait a second. "right. of course." he tries to say more but bobby hanging up gets him before he can talk. he stays silent for a minute throwing his phone across the table. i get up grabbing my phone.

"hey, i'm going to go get some food. you want anything?" i say and he looks up for a second.

"no thanks." i sigh turning around the the door, i pull it closed behind me before heading down the street to the diner i saw on the way in. 

when dean gets back he comes in with a half broken sword that we are supposed to use to slay the dragon.

"what are we supposed to do with this dean, give it a booster shot?" sam questions eyeing the sword as i stood next to him doing the same.

"it's what we got. we just have to get closer. that's all." dean says as sam hands him back the broken sword. "where are we on the caves?"

"nowhere. sewers, on the other hand. here, check this out." sam says as him and dean go to the map on the table i look at the journal that used to be on the bed was now on the table as well. i hope sam didn't read it. it's the one about when i was born. that would be awkward. "so two of the disappearances happened with in a mile of here. so i figured we start there, work out way around." pointing to a spot on the map.

"awesome. who doesn't love sewers?" i raise my hand but they both ignore my joke. "let's go." dean walks over to get some supplies while i get some of my stuff as well. sam staying in the same place. "what?" dean says looking at sam confused.

"nothing. uh yeah, let's go." he says after sighing and heading with us to the door.

we get down into the sewers and the smell is awful.

"oh, God. just when i get used to a smell, i hit a new favor. dude, we have been here for hours. there is nothing. i think the lore is off. hey, what if dragons like nice hotels?" dean rambles as we head down a set of stairs and look around the new found area we have reached. sam looks to the other side of me and dean pointing his flashlight.

"what is that?" sam says as me and dean both turn to the pile of gold trinkets sam had is flashlight on.

"holy crap." dean says walking over to it. he bends down and picks a bracelet in his hand eyeing it. "okay. maybe there are dragons here."

"wait. dean, not right now. check this out." i say looking down the hall we hadn't adventured to yet, noticing something strange.

we walk down to see a ledge hanging out acting as some soft of table. on it were candles, lit and other trinkets placed around. a notebook was placed in the middle of it all.

"a little arts-and-crafty for a giant bat, right?" sam questions as dean picks up the journal. "huh."

"hello? is someone there? can you help us?" we heard someone yell from another room. we start to proceed toward the voice. we come to this big open room as we walk across a bridge like walkway, it was metal and was scary in my opinion. "hello? over here."

we heard the voice again but it was closer. we get to the voice to see a group of girls trapped in a metal cage, similar to the bridge we had been walking on. "help us." we bend down to look for a way to get them out.

"hey. we're going to get you out." dean says looking at the frightened girls.

"he's coming back." one of them says. sam says a quick okay and goes to open the cage but is pulled away quickly. dean stands up quickly as i do too. dean has the half broken sword at the ready.

"where do you think you're gonna stick that?" the man that we assumed was the dragon said. dean charges and slices into his arm a little cutting him. i think that dean has it covered so i head over to sam to make sure he's okay.

"sam." i say trying to shake him awake, it doesn't work. i look up and notice that the dragon had knocked the half broken sword out of his hands and was now approaching him with his hand red hot. i come up behind him with a floating metal bar i had found hitting him across the head, distracting him from dean so he could get the sword. sam had woken up and grabbed the metal bar that was now away from me since i did that with my powers, he hit the dragon again continuing to distract him. i use my powers to hold him back so that sam could get some good hits in. before i know it sam accidentally pushes me back and the dragon is released from my grip for a second. this lets him grab the iron rod with his hot hand before sam can get another lick in.

i noticed dean getting picked up from where he was trying to get the sword by what looks like another dragon. i get close to the sword enough from me to be able to get it out from were it was. "sam!" i yell giving him the half broken weapon. at least one of us was armed. if only i could kill dragons with my magics this would be a lot easier.

sam cuts the dragon in front of him before turning and stabbing the one that was trying to attack dean. all of us staring at the dead one, before turning around just in time for the other to disappear. 

we get back to bobby's i head inside, trying to cool down from the hunt. i sigh sitting in the kitchen. sam comes up to me and sits down. he looks at me with a sad smile. i tilt my head a little confused.

"now, as near as i can figure it, this dates back around the fourteenth century." bobby says turning to book over as he sits down in his chair. me, sam and dean gather around to look at the book. sam and dean are leaned down, while i am sat on the side of the desk looking over at it.

"what language is it in?" i ask wondering if maybe i could translate it. good thing about being a witch is that you have to learn multiple languages to perform spells. most of the spells are in latin so, my mom taught me since i was in fourth grade which caused me to now be fluent. thanks mom.

"da vinci code." welp i'm out. don't know that. sam flips through the pages i look through them noticing something. i think it's made out of human skin. ew. "real obscure latinate. gonna take me my golden years to translate it."

sam goes over to get a chair and brings it over to sit down. "oh, and, uh, fyi... that ain't paper." bobby says pointing to the book.

"what is it?" dean says with a confused look on his face.

"human skin. right bobby?" i say looking to him as he nods and we both look back to the boys to see slightly disgusted faces.

"okay. i'm fairly clear on this first bit. it basically describes this place. it's like the backside of your worst nightmares. it's all blood and bone and darkness. filled with the bodies and souls of all things hungry, sharp and nasty." bobby explains. i take a deep breath, i think i know what he's talking about.

"monsters?" sam questions clarifying what he was thinking.

"it's monster land. according to this, it goes by many names, most of which i cant pronounce, but i'm thinking you know purgatory." my heart slightly drops. i mean, there's rumors of that place but i was hoping it was fake.

"purgatory?" dean asks looking at bobby a little weirded out. "awesome. well, that is, ahem, good to know." dean grabs a glass and the whiskey starting to pour himself some before he continued.

"so you're saying that these dragon freaks were squatting in the sewers and reading tone poems about purgatory?" dean asks sitting down in the chair that was next to us.

"no, dean." i say rolling my eyes looking back at bobby. i was already picking up that this was a bigger deal.

"they're reading an instruction manual." bobby says making dean look at him crazy.

"what?"

"yeah. if you're nuts enough to want access to a place that gnarly this book will show you how to open a door." i sigh.

"door to purgatory. i know a demon who would have loved to have known about that. so how do you open the door?" dean asks as we all look to bobby for the answer. bobby flips over the page to see where one was ripped out.

"ask cloverfield. i'm pretty sure he's got that page. it gets worse."

"worse?" i ask, not really enjoying this subject.

"this ain't talking about how to take a vacation over there. this is all about opening a door to let something in."

"bring something here." sam says in clarification. "what?"

"i'm working on it." we all exchange looks not excited about what bobby had just told us.

"well, can you give us something?" dean asks.

"i got a name."

"okay."

"mother?" bobby even questions himself not completely sure.

"mother? mother of what? mother of dragons?" sam asks looking to bobby for answers.

"i wish. it says it a few times here. mother of all."

"what the hell does 'mother of all' mean?" dean asks confused as well as all of us.

"i don't know." bobby says looking down.

"i can't believe this." i say getting up and going to the kitchen.

"what, belle?" dean asks concerned.

"this is just too crazy. two days ago i read in one of my grandmothers journal about this place and how when i die i might end up there, to now how were are finding out about it." i say starting to pace walking from the kitchen back to the living room.

"what do you mean when you die you go there? you're not a monster." sam says looking at me confused.

"not personally. but literally i guess i am. the perks of being a natural witch are pretty good, power that only grows that you don't even have to work to get but, when it comes to death that seems to be the curse. at least that's what my grandmother thinks. everyone else in my family are practiced so, they don't go there. but i might." i say starting to ramble looking at the three men fear dropping from my voice. "this is too scary."

[zmediaoutlet]

for the spotify wrapped writing thing: 23 + (pre-series?) samdean ❤️

Sam arrives in Palo Alto a day before the dorm move-in date. He could've arranged early move-in but his timing was off. All that planning to get here and he didn't think, somehow, about how telling the truth on Wednesday instead of Thursday would have caused a tectonic crack in the center of the country, and he'd ended up on an earlier bus, and across the country in a furious miserable blur to end up -- a day early, and nowhere to sleep. The girl at the desk doesn't know what to do with him and offers uncertainly to call her supervisor but he tells her not to worry about it. He can get a motel, if she's got a phonebook.

Another two buses, city this time, to get far enough away from the university that the motels are something he can afford. Not the first entry in the yellow pages but, then, he isn't trying to be found. The clerk gives him a distrustful look and says they don't rent by the hour and Sam hitches his duffel higher on his shoulder and tries to look less like a homeless teenager handing over scammed, grimy cash. All he could save and all he was given, in shoved messy handfuls, in those last moments in the dark, last night.

Last night. A thousand miles away, in a dim brown room with a king bed and a broken mini-fridge, it feels -- impossible. Like it's been a month. Like it happened right outside the door he's bolted and chained, the shouting still shaking the windows. He was so angry he thought he'd start through punches; now he's just -- tired. Exhausted. Hungry, and normally right now it'd be the negotiation -- pizza or lo mein, not burgers, we had burgers last night -- but he's on his own, and there's no one to make the decision but himself. How it's going to be, from now until...

He sits on the end of the bed and holds his cell between two hands for long enough that his back hurts from being hunched, and then he calls himself an idiot and dials. It rings and rings and then goes to voicemail. He hangs up. What was he thinking? He falls back on the bed, bouncing a little -- it smells like dust -- and the night ahead is a deep and looming darkness, and then his phone rings, and he opens it and holds it to his ear and says, "Dean?" with his voice this embarrassing thin thing, and there's a pause and Dean says, wherever he is somewhere else in the country, Who else would it be, genius, and he doesn't sound glad to hear from Sam but he doesn't sound mad, either, so Sam will take what he can get.

The conversation isn't good. He says he got there safe. He's moving into the dorm tomorrow and has a motel tonight. It gross? Nah, it's okay. Met any hot California babes yet? No, he says, no, of course not, and Dean says huh but not in a way where Sam knows what it means. When last week, a thousand miles from here, Dean had curled up tight against his back and wiped a messy hand on Sam's shirt, made him splutter and say gross! and Dean said, yeah, so what, whose turn is it to do laundry anyway, and Sam said yours, and Dean said, soft against the back of Sam's neck, huh, and Sam was sticky and sweaty and kinda irritated but also soft inside like a tub of mallow fluff and he knew that Dean was smiling, so he smiled too, turning it into the pillow so Dean couldn't see it. Maybe Dean knew anyway but at least he couldn't see it.

The call time was six minutes, thirty-two seconds. At the end Dean said, well, don't be a stranger, and Sam said, "You too," which didn't make a lot of sense, and then the line went dead without either of them saying goodbye. It's eight at night and Sam's in the city where he'll live for at least four years and he wanted more than anything in the world to be here and he knows it was the right decision, the only one he could have made. He knows that as much as he knows his own name, or his brother's.

The night ahead stretches. The room is quiet.

[captainsimagines]

pretty woman, this is me trying || twelve

Summary: Bucky Barnes does not like to be touched. He’s completely ready to live a distant life and give up when the time is right. Until Stark hires him his own personal pretty woman. Over time, Bucky Barnes begins to learn how to touch again. How to feel again. How to love himself again.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female SexWorker!Reader

Trope(s): Holiday Fanfic ; Slow-Burn ; Friends to Lovers

Based on the Song(s): sweet nothing by Taylor Swift and Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls

(12/14)

Mini-Series

Warnings: explicit language; thoughts of self-hatred and guilt; creepy male reporters; use of the word “whore”; overthinking idiots; dumbass Steve Rogers

Word Count: 3,000+

~

     The office parties and political Balls you had been to in all your years of working as an escort did not compare to Tony Stark’s annual Christmas Ball. Decorations covered every inch, lights were of every color imaginable, and the people were dressed in the most elegant attire ever stitched. It was natural for you to feel out of place at these things. You were either overdressed or underdressed.

With Bucky attached to your arm, you felt included. You felt a part of the club.

You caught sight of Natasha near one of the three bars, this one being in the grand hallway leading into the main reception. She waved, winking as she took notice of your dress. She was wearing the blue one she modeled yesterday, every lovely curve even more pretty as she moved beneath the lights. Bucky waved at her as well, his appreciative glance short and sweet.

In fact, you had believed he was constantly glancing at you to make sure you were still by his side.  

When really, he’s been checking you out all night.

You flushed beneath his cheesy stare, confidence bombarding every inch of your skin. The faint feel of his touch, of his kiss, of his tongue, lingered in the most inappropriate areas. And with the way he was looking at you, he knew too.

“One other thing,” Bucky said as he leaned down to your ear. “You’re gonna have to bid on me tonight.”

“Bid? Like money?”

“Exactly that.”

Why didn’t he mention this before?

“I think I just saw a Kennedy. You think I have that kind of money?”

Bucky stifled his laugh with his metal hand. “It’s already paid for. Trust me. Just bid until everyone else stops. There is no limit.”

“I’m lost.”

“You’ll be fine,” he soothed. Then, “Sam!”

You were on your own until the bidding war. Just as well, you thought. There was a dessert table with your name on it.

~

    Sam Wilson and Natasha Romanoff were an item, it seemed.

Or maybe that quick, secret kiss by the bathrooms was a platonic thing.

Either way, your doubts were cleared when Sam Wilson spent nearly one million dollars for a date with her. Or rather, Tony Stark provided Sam Wilson nearly one million dollars to take Natasha out on a date.

What solidified the relationship for you though was how Natasha didn’t even spend one dollar when it was his turn. Her grin was feline as she hid it behind a champagne glass and watched seven other people bid for that special night with him. His quiet pleading did not sway her, and an actual Kennedy ended up winning that date.

“You’re next,” Natasha commented, watching as a nervous-looking Bucky walked up the stage. He did his best to cover random parts of himself: his chest, his metal arm, his hands. His hair was pulled back in a bun, two french braids layered across his temples. He had asked you earlier to do them for him, sitting between your legs and talking a mile a minute about the plot holes in the Santa Clause movies. He even showed you a picture of how he wanted his hair done for tomorrow.

“Stark better be paying for this.”

Natasha chuckled, “His most trusted donors have already done so. Don’t worry.”

“Mm.”

The announcer called Bucky forward, listing his “best” qualities and how he adored walks on the beach. In the corner of your eye, you saw Thor and Clint dying of laughter.

“We’ll start the bidding at five dollars!”

Before you could raise your hand, ten other people beat you to it. Back and forth, the dollar amount increased. You started bidding once the amount hit the thousands, then the hundred thousands. Once it was just you and some other bitch (you were allowed to say this and you’ll beg for forgiveness later), you upped the ante.

In the end, you won the bidding with your bid of six hundred thousand and the satisfaction of hearing that bitch squeal her bitterness. Bucky gave you a quick thumbs-up, motioning toward the bathroom so he could go catch his breath. He rubbed his chest, his smile sheepish and slightly apologetic.

Random people congratulated you as you made your way to the area in which you needed to write your name down. From what Bucky said, your name would show up no matter what.

Why didn’t Bucky tell you before this morning that you would need to bid on him? If you had been told that since the beginning, all the more reason to help him out. Then again, maybe he felt embarrassed.

Put on auction, not knowing who would have bet on him, treated like cattle.

If he had told you, you could have told him how relatable it was.

You scribbled your name on the card they handed you. Distracted by rereading and checking for errors, you didn’t notice a stranger settle beside you.

“Are you two dating?” he asked, referring to Bucky as he jutted his chin at the card.

You handed the card back to the woman collecting them. You barely glanced at the man as you responded, “I’m sorry, who are you?”

He chuckled quietly, “Dave Reagan. The New Yorker.”

“Good for you.”

You turned and left him at the table, cursing silently as he followed you.

“I don’t usually come to these things, but my boss told me an interesting little detail,” Reagan continued, dipping down as if to whisper more in your ear. You leaned away, making your discomfort noticeable in your expression. He seemed to enjoy that, though.  Not sexual enjoyment, but more like it stunned him jolly.

“Isn’t it obvious by the way I’m internally dying that I don’t want to be in this conversation?”

“Astonishing…” he sighed, his half-compliment falling on deaf ears. Before you could weave your way through an incoming crowd, he intercepted your path.

That familiar sinking feeling punched your gut, even turning your legs cold. Was that something common in all women? To feel so dreadfully trapped in situations that don’t look necessarily dangerous? To feel as if your fight or flight response malfunctioned, and it shouldn’t have been so easy to be stopped? You were surrounded by superheroes and yet, safety was a foreign concept. You were reduced to a human woman, gulping the internalized confidence you had stored for these very moments. Cultivated since girlhood. Without it, you might have crumbled to the floor.

“So, do you service the Winter Soldier on weekends and the others throughout the week?”

Something detached in your brain and shocked you still. Paralyzed.

He couldn’t be saying what you thought he was saying.

But his eyes held no secrets. He was laying them all out for you, allowing you to take your pick.

“How did you know about me?”

“Your picture is on the internet and a lot of higher-ups love that little website you’re on. So many of the guys at work have brought dates they hired from there.”

Bucky. You had to find Bucky. You searched the crowd, even chancing a look behind you, but he wasn’t here. He must still be in the bathroom catching his breath. Tony was busy talking to donors, Clint was in the middle of telling a story, Natasha and Bruce weren’t at either of the two indoor bars, and Maria had left for the bathroom.

“Can you speak lower?” you asked, shrinking by the second.

There.

You locked eyes with Steve Rogers, who had stopped paying attention to the group in front of him the moment his gaze found yours. The hardness of his eyes immediately softened when he took in the expression on your face. He was moving before you could mouth a Help toward him.

He knew. He might have found your relationship with Bucky untrustworthy and sudden, but he did not hate you. He’d be damned leaving you in a situation you desperately needed saving from.

Reagan ignored your request, however. The next thing out of his mouth hurt more than any physical hit.

“You’re not even going to deny that you’re the Avengers’ personal whore?”

Tears burned behind your eyes. Your throat closed on itself. You had no reply, no explanation, no defense.

Steve stepped in between you and Reagan, seemingly bigger than the last time you saw him. “Do we have a problem here?”

Reagan flashed him a rehearsed smile. “Captain Rogers, lovely seeing you again!”

“Can’t say the same about you, Reagan.”

Reagan glanced toward you, his smile devilish. He was aware that Steve followed his movements. He was doing this on purpose.

You had never met this man before. He had never met you. You chalked it up to him just having a horrible, incel-like reaction to sex workers. He mentioned his coworkers and their dates with a hint of a frown. Add in the fact that he was a misogynistic reporter, digging for a front-page story, and was brutal in his search.

“Tell me, Rogers. Do you fuck her immediately after your best friend has had his way with her?”

“Stop…” you begged, cracking at the end.

Steve’s jaw clenched, his entire demeanor one of a man in battle. “What the fuck did you just say?”

Reagan sipped from his drink, bouncing his eyes from you to Steve. The shock on your face was old news apparently, but it was enough of a sign for him. Reagan simply had to glance back at Steve to put the puzzle pieces together. Stuttering on a laugh, Reagan drawled, “Oh my god, you don’t know.”

Steve’s eyes bore into the reporter’s, fire blazing from his original comment to his statement just now. And it was Hell the moment Steve realized what Reagan was actually saying, because comprehension slithered onto the Captain’s face as horribly slow as Reagan’s accusation.

Steve turned his head to you, his eyebrows pulled together. He noticed your wobbling lip, your shielded position. He didn’t say anything. He simply stared, the puzzle fitting for him as well.

“Reagan!” you heard Stark shout as he marched to the group. He kept his strut natural so as to not worry guests. “How did your sleazy ass slip through security?”

“Holiday events are your easiest barricades, Stark,” Reagan joked, sipping from his glass.  “Do you employ her as well?”

Reagan’s last syllable was strangled as Steve punched him in the face, breaking his nose instantly. He fell with a loud thud, gaining the attention of numerous bystanders.

You heard Stark calling your name, but you kept walking. Your dress swayed beautifully as you picked up your pace. You ran past Natasha and Clint, Sam and Pietro, even the Scarlet Witch herself. All magically appeared in this horrid moment, and not in the moment you needed them the most. In the morning, all those lovely faces would adopt similar strains of astonishment, of disgust maybe. They would no longer see you as Bucky’s friend. They wouldn’t invite you over for tea and crumpets. They wouldn’t tell you that you’re the thing making Bucky Barnes smile anymore.

They will discover you weren’t Bucky’s friend at all. You were his whore.

“Hey, hey,” Stark soothed, finally catching up to you. “I am so fucking sorry. I made sure to employ you secretly, privately, discreetly. Someone’s ass is getting fucking sued.”

“I don’t want to talk about this here, Stark.”

“I will find whoever leaked this. I will make sure your reputation stays intact—”

“What reputation! He’s not wrong!” you screamed, uncaring for whoever eavesdropped.

“He’s saying you’re our whore. Now, I reject that language regardless, but that statement is plain slander!”

You scoffed, humorless. “Who are we kidding, Stark? I am what I am.”

“But Barnes—”

“Bucky wanted me because he wanted to get used to company again. Nothing more.”

Stark pursed his lips, unconvinced. “Barnes didn’t want to bring anyone to the Ball, but I convinced him it was a good idea. He would have been auctioned off to a stranger against his will. When I searched for someone, I didn’t show Barnes a picture or your biography. I simply thought you looked like a person who could keep a secret. Barnes decided the day—”

“What?”

“Barnes decided you were a right fit—”

“Bucky didn’t want me?”

He had told you that he had a say. That he didn’t think you two would hit it off, but that he still chose you.

It was a lie.

Stark chose you. Stark told him he had to choose you. Stark forced this upon Bucky, a hurt and struggling man, and didn’t tell you. Bucky was going to be auctioned to a stranger against his will because of some immature charity ring, and in his distress, told Stark to fix it.

“Where in my words did you pick that up?”

“You just said you were the one who chose me, who looked for me. That Bucky didn’t know I was going to walk through his door.”

“Well, he agreed to the ‘having a date to the Christmas Ball’, but I had full rein on choosing the person.”

Confirmation was revolting. Even if Bucky had given you his consent to everything you two had done together, it was the overall consent that lacked. It made you feel immoral, corrupt.

Lied to.

You ignored the curious faces of guests watching your conversation, desperately trying to angle their heads for better acoustics. It didn’t matter, though. You’ll never have to see them again after this.

“Do what you have to do to keep the story out of the papers. I don’t care anymore,” you told Stark, pushing past him and to the striking double doors. Holiday music followed your grand escape, mocking you with each step. The lights lit up your path.

“Wait! Wait!”

Everything in your body told you to keep walking, to run through those glass doors and hail a taxi. But his voice was a siren call, and your heart was at war with every cell.

You whipped around, furious and broken. “You didn’t want me.”

Bucky froze, immediately falling pale. “What?”

“You never asked for me.”

He swallowed hard, seemingly caught in his lie. “I… I didn’t, but you have to understand—”

You sucked in a deep breath, trying to keep your voice from shaking. “I chose you… And you didn’t even want me.”

“I wanted you after I met you,” he rushed.

“I get that, but it feels dirty to know I just forced myself into your life. To know that you were just doing what Stark told you to do because of some requirement for this Ball.”

He shook his head, fighting you without fists. “I want you now.”

“But why didn’t you tell me?”

He paused, as if debating his answer. Then, with calculated urgency, he said the one thing you hoped he wouldn’t say. “I was still worried you’d leave after you were paid.”

You scoffed out a laugh, “I feel dirty. And that man in there made me feel worthless.”

A muscle in his cheek jumped at the same time his metal arm whirred. “What man? What the hell did he say to you?”

“Nothing I haven’t heard before,” you laughed, humor absent. “But I’ve touched you, Bucky. I’ve done everything a hooker is expected to do and I fell in love with you, and I was still going to take the goddamn money. All of that… Without even knowing that you were forced into this arrangement?”

He went to say something, but you continued, “You promised to tell me what you wanted and didn’t want.”

“ I did,” he enunciated, completely serious. “You did not take advantage of me.”

“You don’t get it.” You tried not to sound like you were whining, but it was hard. “I was just exposed in there. I let people show me off and fuck me for a living, but that was humiliating. None of your friends knew I did this. None of your friends had that image of me sleeping with other people while being with you until now. I lied to them. And I was going to continue lying to them, even after Stark paid me.”

“They won’t care.”

“But I still lied.”

Over Bucky’s shoulder you saw Steve rushing from the main room, frantic in his search. For you, for Bucky. Didn’t matter. The moment he saw you two, his face contorted.

“Great…” you sighed, suddenly tired. Bucky glanced back to see who you were referring to. “I lied to him the most.”

“He. Won’t. Care,” Bucky said, setting his jaw.

“I need to get out of here,” you declared, basically running around him.

“Wait—Wait!” Bucky begged, grabbing your wrist. His force was miscalculated though, and your wrist made an audible pop. Bucky dropped you instantly, his eyes wide with fear.

“Don’t touch me.” Ignoring the slight pain, you backed away from him.

“Just let me explain—” His body, always rejecting what his mind told him to do, went to reach for you again. You lifted a hand, as if to swat him away, yet you had every intention of missing him.

But Bucky flinched, recoiling and turning his shoulders inward.

You missed Bucky completely because Steve Rogers pushed you away, slamming you against the wall.

“Steve!” Bucky yelled, ripping Steve off you. You fell forward, barely catching yourself from falling. The two grappling men fell to the floor.

“I wasn’t going to hit you,” you breathed, sending Bucky the most hurt expression you could conjure.

He stuttered, rushing to stand again. “I—I know that. It was instinct. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry for reacting. Be sorry for thinking so low of me.”

Pushing open the doors, you paused when you heard Bucky’s whimper of, “Please don’t go.”

Steve stood, keeping his distance. He had done enough damage, it seemed. You couldn’t even look at him long enough without feeling betrayed.

He had just proved you right. The team, Steve included, would not accept you.

“But that makes sense, right? I’m just a whore you didn’t even want in the first place.”

You didn’t look back to see how your words landed. You rushed into a taxi and drove home, crying the whole way there.

What’s another Christmas spent alone?

~

[privateanxieties]

forget my mercy, take my blame (chapter 4)

Summary: You are the same person you were a week ago, only now presenting as you truly are: hiding nothing, free of struggle. With your back to the sun and him before you, your eyes are black and resolute.

Words: 2.6K (graphic depictions of violence)

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SERIES MASTERLIST

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What do people think about in their final moments? 

You assume it depends on the amount of time they have, as well as the manner of death. People have disagreed on the subject of an afterlife for as long as they've been able to contemplate it, but the moment of death itself has seldom been the focus of debate. Of all the myriad ways that things can end, when the line is crossed and the numbers are tallied, you suppose anyone would say that all death, each one that has ever been and ever will be, is either violent or lucky. 

If there is struggle, there is violence. If there is not, a person is asleep, much like Sam is as you peer down at him. 

It's been interesting, this night, but as dawn looms over the horizon, your mood darkens almost in revolt. You can neither do this the way you would have back at the house, nor summon enough derangement to keep him in storage until nighttime returns in a little over seventeen hours, even if the setting permits a bit of mania. The desert looms over Tule Valley, shadowed by white rocks to the North and shapely knolls to the South, a barren nothingness stretching out for miles. Yes, nobody will find you here. No, you will not drag this out any longer. You already shot one more man tonight than you were planning to, though admittedly it was his own fault. 

Frank.  

You don't know what he was talking about, but hell if you cared to listen. The instant that he blocked that door with his body, your finger squeezed the trigger it had been glued to since you'd laid eyes on him. Served him right for sticking his nose in other people's business. If he'd just been a misguided stranger, you'd have let it go. Clearly, a few too many screws were loose in his head too, but he underestimated just how many were rattling around in yours. The answer was: enough to shoot him in the shoulder and take his van into the desert, with Sam out cold in the back like he'd said. At least he didn't lie about that, because you'd have gone back to shoot him again. 

The dark sky gives way to a crack of indigo in the far distance, and you push off the van's back door to approach the man lying on the ground several feet away. Given he's still wearing his server uniform from the diner, you guess Frank must've nabbed him after his shift. There's no visible injury on his person besides a little redness around the clavicles, indicating knockout via strangulation. Good — at least he won't be woozy from head trauma, because you'd like to talk to him. 

His face is plain, forgettable to anyone that isn't you. Twenty-two years old and not going to get any older. You scoff at his terminal stupidity. Having this much power over someone's life should come with a degree of somberness, but you're tired and cranky from hauling Sam out of the van and dragging Frank away from the door. You've done more manual labor than intended tonight, and it's not like you've had much sleep in the past week to begin with. You spare another look at Sam's figure, cheek pressed into the ground and breathing even. Nap time over. 

You don't have a knife, so you resort to grasping his left pinky and pressing down on the nail bed until he stirs. It takes around a minute for him to awaken fully, by which time you've stood up and retrieved your gun. You move a few paces away. For a moment you wonder what your face must look like, but Sam isn't close enough to catch all the nuances in your expression as he blinks at you with furrowed brows. He coughs twice but finds his voice pretty quickly. 

"Who the fuck are you?" 

Maybe your face is forgettable too. 

"Where the fuck am I?" he demands with a weak cry, voice hoarse from the treatment his neck received. He tries to get to his feet, but he barely turns onto his side before you let off a shot near his shoulder. 

"Don't get up, Sam." 

The gesture yields the intended effect. He stops and scrambles onto his back, scooting away from you on his heels and elbows as his body kicks up dust. You point the gun at his head, silently commanding him to stop moving. He does. You close the distance to what it was before. Sam glares up at you, but he hasn't had the time in his short life to build up any menacing qualities. There's still some roundness in his face from delayed puberty, because while his documents say twenty-two, the man in front of you looks barely eighteen. Some people just look younger than they are. 

"What do you want?" 

A hint of the stutter he had the first time you met him returns for that simple question. It's not one you've personally ever asked when finding yourself in similar situations in the past. No reason to play stupid and waste everyone's time. You raise an eyebrow. 

"You don't know?" 

A look of recognition passes over his features as he studies you, but where you expect fear or nervousness, something akin to vexation appears instead. His lips curl upwards. He's displeased and ready to make it known. 

"Look, I passed my fucking test! Tell Emi I'm ready. He doesn't need to do this shit no more," he snarls. 

New information. Hm. 

"So you don't know me," you say vaguely, studying him in return. 

"The fuck do I care who you are? What, are you some new bitch he's fucking this month? It ain't gon' last, I tell you that. Just do whatever he said to so I can go home. Got enough shit on my plate." 

There's delayed puberty of the brain too, it seems. He hasn't caught on that you are not who he thinks, but interestingly, the person he thinks you are is expected to behave the way you do. He's been manhandled, kidnapped and brought to the wilderness to stare down the barrel. He does so in defiance, not an ounce of fear in his eyes. Tests. Readiness. Emi. 

You put some fear right into his kneecap. 

Sam howls his agony into the expanse of the desert as the bullet tears through cartilage and exits through soft flesh. He grabs at his leg with both hands, rocking forward several times as if to get up. He's yet to understand that he'll never use that leg again, you think, because he does try to scramble to his feet again. It's haphazard and desperate, but it grants him valuable knowledge: he falls back on his ass in a stupor, looking at his body and trying to understand its betrayal. He can feel the pain, yet he can't feel anything below the knee. 

"Are you a good listener, Sam? I can tell you're not a good observer. Maybe we can change that," you say evenly, waiting for him to register your words over the adrenaline pumping through his veins. 

He looks up at you and yowls something fierce. From what you can see in the awakening darkness, there are tears gathered in his eyes. The fire burning in them is different now, defiance waning. 

"My brother's going to fucking kill you!" he screams. It travels along Tule Valley with its dips and mounds, only to be swallowed up by the sheer expanse of nothing. He has found out who you are not. Now, to refresh his memory. 

"You should be more concerned with what I'm going to do, to tell you the truth." 

He fumbles over the hole in his knee and wrestles with control of his ligament to no avail, and if you bear witness for a minute or two, it's not something you're ashamed of. A long sigh folds your body into itself as you crouch down to his level, keeping a knee on the ground for stability. Sam's whimpers have lost some of their intensity, and for a moment you watch him watch the blood that flows from his leg into the reddish sand, creating black splotches in the low light that resemble the ones on your front door. The desert is much colder than your neighborhood. 

"I've hurt some people," you tell him, commanding his attention before he goes into shock. He lifts his eyes to your face, and suddenly he looks like even more of a child than he did before. You nod both to yourself and him in the wake of your statement, as if to confirm you've really said it. Truths uttered inside a wasteland can be bent into unflattering shapes by something as inoffensive as a breeze.

"I have. Nobody that didn't deserve it, I promise you that. But I've never done this before," you continue, head tilted with a frown. "I've never let anyone go who I knew I shouldn't." 

"I don't know what you're talking about, you crazy bitch! Look at what you did to my fucking leg!" 

His voice is scratched, not yet broken. 

"You've hurt some people too, haven't you? Only, they were good people. Right?" 

The spell of dry wind descending from the white rocks to the North has travelled a long way to encounter you both, howling through the valley with a final effort to leave its mark on the wilderness. Its tendrils are harsh and nearly icy right before dawn, sending one last caress through the realm that will soon be transformed under a ball of fire. 

A flicker of recognition arises in the man's face again, and this time, he really sees you. In the absence of synthetic light, he sees your face from the same distance he did at the bakery, same hairstyle, same plain clothes. You are the same person you were a week ago, only now presenting as you truly are — hiding nothing, free of struggle. With your back to the sun and him before you, your eyes are black and resolute. You think of nothing and have no decisions to make. 

Clarity is good. 

The steel feels cold against your hand as it reaffirms its grip on the Kimber, but the trigger burns its shape into the crook of your index finger. You breathe. You pull. 

Silencer long detached, the true sound of oblivion rings out over planes and burrows into crevices, a responding hum finding its way back to the source as if the earth itself knows it has just become a tomb. You rise to your feet. A healthy adult man will take a long while to die with just one shot to the chest. That's alright. You want him to have all the mercy of the world he created. 

Four steps carry you to Sam Collins, who's a hair removed from shock. Chest rising and falling uncontrollably, it gives way to spasms and sputters both felt and heard as his fists pound the dirt against their will. The sporadic whistling produced by his lungs barely hits your ears for how delicate it is. Most of the gray of his shirt has been chased away by gravity luring his blood into the hungry earth, never to relinquish ownership. You find yourself peering down at his wide eyes and puffing cheeks and slowly get flooded with a sense of impending disquiet. 

He shouldn't get to see the sky. He shouldn't get to watch the sun rise over his last day and make the stars disappear by casting light upon them. The oranges and purples of a desert sunrise aren't for him to witness when others only get the rigid monotony of wood and steel, an endless night trapping them inside darkness before it swallows them whole. 

You wonder what he's thinking between gasping breaths and choked words. In theory, he wouldn't be thinking about anything but survival. Only if he has accepted death staring down his path can he start contemplating other things, but Sam is still young for the amount of time he has left. Youth is defiant, unafraid. It holds out the longest in the face of calamity. As he so clearly proved, youth is barely even capable of recognizing death. It either flees in the face of it or it falls quiet. 

Sam has done both. As he looks at you and you look back, there's no telling what you'll remember of him and this moment in another nineteen years, no use in searching for clues. Whatever your mind will latch onto is outside all control. What it knows of Mark Davidson is a look like a demon's and a fury like God's, and you buried them both under rock without spectacle or prejudice what feels like a lifetime ago. You remember fuel and heat, a thundering slide of earth and gravel. 

What you'll remember of Sam could be wind, just as well as it could be silence. It could be pleading eyes or a childlike face. Whatever memory will be kept, you bear witness to his struggle against ample tranquility. He's crossing over into darkness as the first rays of sun slither along the dessicated ground and towards his face, but just before his eyes are kissed by the morning light, the fire within them burns out. You remark on the color in peace. They're green. 

Clarity is good. 

.

.

. 

The downside of being undisturbed following a murder is that you aren't really sure what to do with all your clarity. The last time you did this you were behind the wheel of a stolen car too, but back then you had the benefit of mental turmoil. You weren't thinking about much more than getting away from that quarry, weren't feeling anything but guilt and fear and a pervasive sense of biblical doom. 

Now, you're maybe a little restless. Maybe a little inconvenienced. Overall, once you're done getting rid of this van and the coyotes are done getting rid of Sam's body, you don't know where you're going to plant your feet — besides Frank's dash, that is. 

Going back to your house is out of the question right now. You're not in Utah— you're in sunny California, staying with relatives and recovering from last week's events. Showing your face so soon will raise eyebrows on faces that you aren't likely to see again anyway, so there is little point in swinging by. You will have to eventually, if you want a clean break. Few things today can't be done remotely if money is no issue, but you sprung too many roots in that town and now have to sever them yourself. 

One of them is staring back at you from the phone you've just turned on for the first time in seven days, a written update from Eliza with a photo of Piper and Mae attached. The pair of rose-ringed parakeets are snuggled together on what looks to be a desk cluttered with psychology homework. You're not surprised they've taken to her so quickly as to be comfortable outside their enclosure. Eliza is a good, caring person and as gentle as they come. You don't reply to her text. 

Sifting through the flurry of notifications and emails from purveyors with whom you'd unexpectedly suspended contracts, your eyes catch on one message that is neither inquiry nor update. It's an alert from your home security system, encrypted and blinking impatiently for it to be acknowledged. It is. 

Only some forty hours too late.

.

.

-to be continued-

A/N: No Frank in this one again, sorry! But we'll get plenty real soon, and we might even get some other people we know👀 Please let me know your thoughts, I love reading them and freaking out over this story with you!

Taglist: @itwasthereaminuteago @hellskitchenswhore @theradioactivespidergwen @trashyart-y @its-me-ya-boi-lisa @marieloves-reading @daisyslibrary @trashcan-writes @mind-nine @reblogmisc3 @hufflepufe @this-is-where-i-keep-my-fic

Note: If you'd like to be tagged, reblog the previous chapters or the series masterlist! You have to interact with the story if you want to keep getting tagged for updates.

[sarahsmi13s]

Lieutenant Rogers - pt 4

Earn It

pairings: romantic!neil ‘omaha’ vikander x rogers!reader, platonic!dagger squad x rogers!reader, plantonic!sam wilson x rogers!reader, platonic!bucky barnes x rogers!reader

characters: y/n rogers, neil vikander, the entire dagger squad (admirals and captain included), sam wilson, bucky barnes, john walker, lemar hoskins, misc. characters from both universes

series warnings: language, blood, fighting, sexual inuendoes, john walker, cannon dangers, cannon deaths, suggestive themes, the flag smashers, super soldiers, if i miss any please let me know

word count: ~4.1k

a/n: if you couldn’t already tell, i’m OBSESSED with crossovers. reader is the daughter of steve rogers, and has the super soldier serum as well

sources: Top Gun: Maverick (2022) , The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (2021)  

series summary: 13 pilots were called back to Top Gun in 2023. at the same time, Lieutenant Rogers learns that her father’s shield was passed down to John Walker.

chaper summary: sam and bucky finally meet john in person. so does star. neither interactions were in john’s favor.

pt 1  pt 2  pt 3  pt 5  pt 6

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

“We need to tell Y/N,” Bucky said as he walked alongside Sam. “Hell no,” Sam said immediately. “Why not? She needs to know!” “No, she does not. She is training, and this is not her problem.” “She’s a super soldier, just like them.” “Well, technically she’s a super pilot, not a soldier.” Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Sorry about Redwing,” Bucky said after a few minutes of silence. “No you’re not,” Sam said. He looked over at Bucky, “What’s going on in the big cyborg brain of yours?” 

“It’s computing,” Buck replied flatly, making Sam chuckled. “You know what? I can actually see it. I can see the gears turning. Ope, they’re malfunctioning, shuttin’ down. Yep, they’re on fire.” 

Bucky ignored his teasing, “We gotta figure out where the serum’s coming from.” “Yeah. And how in the hell after 80 years are there 8 super soldiers runnin’ loose?”

A truck pulled up beside them, honking.

“So that didn’t go as planned, huh?” John said from the back. 

Sam and Bucky barely glanced as they kept walking. 

“Okay. Let’s keep going.” The car rolled forward, staying in front of the two.

“Look, at least we know what we’re up against now, huh? And we’re pretty sure it’s one of the big three, so..” John continued. “Aliens, androids, or wizards?” “Pretty sure.” 

Bucky shook his head and scoffed, “There’s no such thing as wizards.” John nodded, “Alright, then it’s aliens, or androids.” Sam finally turned his head, “Or super soldiers.” 

“Shit, super soldiers. For real?” The other guy in the truck said. “Yeah.” “Wow. Alright. Then we work together.” “That’s not happening,” Bucky said bluntly.

John sighed, “I think we stand a much better chance if we all just-” Bucky cut him off, “Just 'cause you carry that shield, it doesn't mean you're Captain America.” He was fuming on the inside, but just mildly annoyed on the outside. “Look, I've done the work, okay?” John was becoming impatient. “You ever jump on top of a grenade?” Bucky challenged.

Walker didn’t miss the chance to brag, “Yeah. Actually, I have. Four times. It's a thing I do with my helmet. It's a reinforced helmet. It's a long story, but, any… Look, it's 20 miles to the airport. You guys need a ride. Guys. Gary, stop. Get in.” 

Okay, you gotta give the man credit for trying to be friendly but he was doing it for the wrong reasons.

Bucky and Sam shared a look before begrudgingly climbing into the truck.

And the talking started immediately. “Okay, so we've got eight Super Soldiers on a bulk supply run. Why?” Sam sighed, knowing there was no way around trying to work with him, “They say their mission is to get things back to the way it was during The Blip. Maybe they're just trying to help.” “They had a funny way of showing it,” Bucky voiced.

“That serum doesn't exactly have a great track record. No offense.” John was already approaching their last nerve, that stepped right on it. But they continued to be cordial.

Well, Sam did, Bucky was just staring.

“We need to figure out where they're going. How'd you track 'em here? The Flag Smashers?” Sam asked, looking between the two. “Uh, no, we didn't track them, we tracked you, uh, through Redwing,” the guy next to John said, scratching his neck. 

“You hacked my tech?”

John chuckled, seemingly amused by Sam’s frustration, “Sorry. It's not exactly hacking. It's government property. Kind of the government.” Bucky just stared at him, pondering how someone had that much audacity dare carry the shield. 

“Does he always just stare like that?” Sam glanced at Bucky before looking back at Walker, “You get used to it.”

“Okay, look,” John cleared his throat, “you know, things have gotten kind of, uh…” “Chaotic.” “Yeah. The GRC, they're doing the best they can to get things up and running smoothly, post Blip.” “Reactivating citizenship, social security, healthcare. Basically just managing resources for the refugees who were displaced by the return.” Sam nodded, “The Global Repatriation Council does all that. I get that. So why exactly are you two here?”

The man next to John continued to explain, “Well, they provide the resources and we keep things stable.” John chimed in, “Yeah, violent revolutionaries aren't usually good for anyone's cause.” “Usually said by the people with the resources.” John nodded, “We got a lot of resources. If you guys, if you joined up with us, we could-”

“No,” Bucky bluntly cut Walker off, firm in his decision. 

“I got mad respect for both of y'all. But you were getting your asses kicked till we showed up.” Bucky looked at him, “Who are you?” “Lemar Hoskins.” Sam scoffed, “Look, I see a guy hanging out of a helicopter in tactical gear, I need a lot more than Lemar Hoskins.” “I’m ‘Battlestar’. John’s partner.” Bucky really couldn’t believe what he was hearing, “‘Battlestar’?” Bucky nodded, turning to the front, “Stop the car!”

The driver, Gary, stopped at a rest point. 

“Look, I-I get it, okay? I get the attitude, I do. You didn't think that the shield was gonna end up here. I get it, Bucky,” John called out, but Bucky ignored him. He sighed and turned to Sam, “And I'm-I'm not trying to be Steve. I'm not trying to replace Steve. I'm just trying to be the best Captain America I can be. That's it.” 

He hoped to get Sam on board, “It'd be a whole lot easier if I had Cap's wingmen on my side.”

Scoffing, Sam moved to get out, “It’s always that last line.” 

He shut the door, not thinking about the next words that came out of his mouth, “If you really want support, you need it from more than just Cap’s ‘wingmen’.” Sam shook his head and followed after Bucky.

*********

“Good morning. The uranium enrichment plant that is your target will be operational earlier than expected. Raw uranium will be delivered to the plant in ten days’ time. As a result, your mission has been moved up one week-” Everyone tensed in their seats. “-in order to avoid contaminating the target valley with radiation.”

“Sir,” Coyote spoke up from behind where you were seated beside Hangman. “No one here has successfully flown a low-level course.” You nodded a little as you moved your eyes from Coyote to Warlock. “Nevertheless, you have been ordered to move on. Captain.”

Maverick walked up, “We have one week left to focus on phase two. It’s the most difficult stage of the mission. It’s a pop-strike with a steep dive, requiring nothing less than two consecutive miracles.” You shifted in your seat and flexed your hand. “Two pairs of F-18’s will fly in a welded wing formation. Teamwork. Precise coordination of these aircrafts is essential to both the mission’s success and your survival.”

You glanced up at Hangman to find him clicking his pen as he listened. 

“As you know, the plant rests between two mountains. On final approach, you’ll invert directly into a steep dive. This allows you to maintain the lowest possible altitude, and the only possible attack angle. Your target is an impact point less than 3 meters wide. The two seat aircraft will paint the target with a laser bull’s-eye. The first pair will breach the reactor by dropping a laser guided bomb on an exposed ventilation hatch. They will create an opening for the second pair. That’s miracle number one.”

You glanced over and shared a look with Bob, exhaling your nerves as you turned back to Mav. “The second team will deliver the kill shot and destroy the target. That’s miracle number two. If either team misses the target the mission is a failure.” You sucked in a breath as you popped your knuckles. “Egress is a steep high-G climb out to avoid hitting this mountain.”

Jake spoke up next to you, having seemingly done the math in his head, “A steep climb out at that speed, you’re pulling at least eight G’s.” You shook your head, sitting up, “You’re pulling nine, maybe even ten G’s.” Maverick nodded. 

“The stress limit of the F-18’s airframes is 7.5.” Mav nodded again, looking at Rooster, “That’s the accepted limit. To survive this mission, you’ll pull beyond that, even if it means bending your airframe.”

He took a breath, turning back to the screen, “You’ll be pulling so hard, you’ll weigh close to 2,000 pounds, your skull crushing your spine, your lungs imploding like an elephant’s sitting on your chest, fighting with everything you can just to keep from blacking out. And this is where you’ll be the most vulnerable. This is Coffin Corner.”

Fanboy spoke up, “The only person that could maybe withstand that much force is Star.” Both you and Mav shook your heads. “It may not affect me as much as it would anyone else, but I’m not invincible. The serum boosts my metabolism, it doesn't create miracles.” Mav swallowed, nodding at you before continuing.

“Assuming you avoid crashing into this mountain, you’ll climb straight up into enemy radar while losing all of your airspeed. Within seconds you’ll be fired upon by enemy SAMs. You’ve all faced sustained G’s before, but this-this is gonna take you and your aircraft to your breaking point.” 

Phoenix spoke up, shaking her head slightly, “Sir, is this even achievable?” “The answer to that question will come down to the pilot in the box.”

*******

You just exited the locker room, sore, showered, and ready for some drinks after a long day of failing.

“Lieutenant Rogers,” Admiral Simpson poked his head out of his office. “I need a word, please.” You turned immediately and walked in, “Sir, did I-” “This has nothing to do with the mission, Star,” Warlock assured you.

“I don’t know if you were aware but Captain Walker stopped by wanting to have a word with you,” Cyclone said, crossing his arms and he leaned against his desk. You shook your head, “No, sir, I was not aware the Captain would be stopping by.” Cyclone nodded, “Understood. I sent him away as soon as I could.”

His scoff resembled an unamused chuckle, “He tried to use the ‘I’m Captain America’ card. I had to remind him that this was in fact the Navy and that it didn’t work here.” “Also, we’re Admirals, we out rank him anyway.” 

“We aren’t sure of how he found you. But we wanted you to be aware.” You nodded curtly, “Thank you, sirs. Am I dismissed?” They nodded and you went to the door.

“Star?” You turned, humming in acknowledgement. “We stand with you. We don’t appreciate how your wishes were disrespected, if there’s anything we can do. Let us know.” You smiled a little, nodding, “Thank you.”

Once you closed the door, you were fast walking out of the building going to your bike.

********

You laughed as you stood up straight, “Ha! Told you it’d go in!” “That’s what she said,” Fanboy mumbled behind his glass. You dropped your jaw, “Jar, Garcia, I heard that.” He groaned, “Damn your super hearing.” He placed a dollar in the jar.

As you leaned over to take your next shot, the bar became silent and the pilots around you stood stock still. 

You glanced up to see the anger on their faces. “Okay? What made you guys so sour all of a sudden?”

“Y/N Rogers?”

You froze. You’d recognize that voice anywhere. “You gotta be shittin’ me,” you grumbled to yourself.

Hangman, Omaha, and Harvard looked at you, silently asking if they needed to handle this. You shook your head and stood.

Being extra cautious of how you gripped the pool cue, you turned to face John Walker.

“That would be me.” The blond had a proud smile on his face and looked at Lemar who was next to him, “Told you she’d be here.” 

He cleared his throat and adjusted his suit. “John Walker. Captain America,” he stuck his hand out for you to shake.

The quiet scoffs from behind you went unnoticed by the man in blue. “I know who you are, John.” You jerked your head toward Lemar, “Who’s your friend?” “Lemar Hoskins, or ‘Battlestar’,” he said, nodding politely to you. “Nice to meet you, Lemar.”

John clears his throat, obviously not liking that you seemed to just overlook him. You look at him, giving him a once over, not missing the gun on his belt. “How can I help you boys?” You smirked a little at the way John’s jaw clenched.

“We’re trying to work with Sam and Bucky on a mission, they just don’t seem to respect or support us-“ “And you’re here to ask me to talk to them?” “Would you?” 

A laugh escaped your lips before you could catch it.

Walker furrowed his brow, “What’s so funny?” You took a deep breath to calm yourself, “It’s just, you think that I have any influence over two grown men. Like what I say to them might make them want to work with you. John, you might want to rethink your methods.” “Look, Y/N, all I’m asking for is just a little respect and support. It’d mean a lot if I could get it from you.” You nodded, passing your cue to Hangman before stepping forward.

As you opened your mouth, he spoke, “I understand that this isn’t what you expected, or even wanted. But I’m trying to do the best I can, and having you by my side would really help. What do you say?” 

He gave you a smile, one that he definitely thought could get him what he wanted.

“No,” you said, holding your head high, reveling in the way his smile dropped. “No?”

You crossed your arms, looking down at your boots before looking up at John. “Respect is not simply given, John. You have to earn it.” “I’m Captain America, everyone respects me.” 

Rooster laughed from behind you, causing you to smirk when Walker nearly gave himself whiplash to look at him. 

“Dude, if you didn’t notice, which I’m sure you did, nobody batted an eye when you walked in.”

Hangman looked around, “Yeah, and everyone is just kinda ignoring you. It’s a little embarrassing.” John's fingers twitched, but he made no move, knowing he was severely out matched and out numbered.

“Look, Walker, just because you carry that shield doesn’t mean you get respect from everyone at the drop of a hat. My father earned the respect he got. I’ll admit that you’ve done some good things, but that doesn’t make you a good person. It doesn’t mean you deserve the shield.” John nodded, “Oh, I see. I think I know what this is about.”

You opened your arms, inviting him to continue, “Please, do enlighten me.” 

“You wanted the shield and you’re mad they didn’t choose you.” You scoffed, “Oh, really? That’s why I’m upset? Listen, if I wanted the shield, I would have it. This is all about your attitude, and the fact you think you’re above everyone. My dad never thought that way. He was a nobody that was given a chance. He had a heart of pure fucking gold that was too big for his own good. He stood up to bullies, that’s why he was Captain America. You were chosen because of your achievements, not your heart.”

John opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off. “You want my respect, go out there and fucking earn it. You want Sam and Bucky’s respect, you earn it. Have the day you deserve, John.” The look in your eyes had Walker biting his tongue and walking out, Lemar looking at you.

You shifted your gaze to him, “I understand he’s your friend, but he needed to be taken down a peg or two. Take care, Lemar.” “You too, Lieutenant.” You gave him a small smile as he walked out, wondering if was only here because John was his friend.

Turning back to your fellow aviators, you exhaled, shaking your head. 

“What a dick,” Halo piped up. You all chuckled, nodding in agreement. You held your hand out, Hangman placing the cue in your hand. “That was pretty badass, Star.”

“You’re lucky you had that handled, Penny was about to make him buy a round for the whole bar for that comment,” Phoenix informed you. “Yeah, her hands were itching to ring that bell,” Payback said, nodding towards the bar. “My hands were itching to knock his damn teeth in,” Coyote said, sipping his beer.

You smiled at the group, watching them move back to their previous activities. You were grateful to have them at your back just now.

Bob came up to you and rubbed your arm, Omaha coming up with him to place a hand on the small of your back. “Are you okay?” You nodded, “Yeah.” 

Your hands gripped the cue a little tighter as you twisted your hands around it. “I think I just need a drink, you can take over for me,” you passed the cue to Bob. They nodded and watched you make your way to the bar, turning back around when you made it there safely.

You stood at the bar, rubbing your temples. Penny noticed your presence and made a note to go over to you when she finished cashing out this patron’s tab.

Glancing over, you made sure none of the squad was paying attention and snuck out the back.

Except someone saw you. 

Maverick watched you push off the bar and make a bee-line to the beach. He watched Penny come back and notice that you had left. “Where’d she go?” Mav gestured to the door, “Outside. Put a drink for her on my tab, I’ll go talk to her.” Penny nodded and got the drink.

****

You sat in the sand, cross-legged and staring at the water. “I’m sorry, Dad…” You mumbled, moving your gaze to look at your hands, Steve’s dog tags tangled in your fingers.

Someone sat down beside you, not saying anything as they held out the bottle. “Thanks.” “No problem.” It was silent for a moment while you both took sips of your respective drinks.

“Hangman would have been a better fit,” you tried to make light of the situation and Mav chuckled. “Don’t let him hear you say that.” You huffed a laugh and took a gulp of your drink.

“You wanna talk about it?” Mav asked, not taking his eyes off the water. You chuckled dryly, “I think I voiced my opinion fairly well.” “Star…” You sighed, “I just- I want- I don’t know…”

You sniffled and rubbed your nose, “I wish I could let it go…” “But you can’t.” You shook your head, “No, I can’t.” “That’s okay. Some things you just can’t let go of,” Mav said, flexing his hand and moving his eyes away from the ocean. You knew he was referring to Goose and Rooster.

You brought your knees up, settling your bottle in the sand. “I feel like I let him down, you know,” you confessed, running your fingers over the raised metal of the tags. “That I should have fought Sam harder. Somehow proven to him that he was ready for it. That he was the Captain America this country needs, not the one it wants. Tell him that he had the ability to really make a difference.” 

Mav hesitantly rubbed your back, “I’m sure Sam had his reasons.” You nodded, “He did. And I respected his decision, I’m in no place to tell him how he should feel or what he should do.”

It was silent for a moment and you didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

You gestured back to the Hard Deck, “I appreciate you checkin’ on me, Mav. But go enjoy the rest of your night. We got a long day tomorrow.” He nodded, “It’s not a problem. If you need anything, don’t hesitate.” You gave him a small smile and watched him retreat to the bar.

As you turned back to the water you sighed and ran a hand down your face, bringing the bottle to your lips to finish it.

As you sat there, your phone rang. “Sam, hey.” “Hey, are you busy?” You shook your head, standing up and dusting the sand off, “Not at the moment, no. Heard you got to meet Walker. Would’ve been nice to have a heads up though.” “Heads up?” “Yeah, he showed up at the Hard Deck. If I don’t see him for another 70 years it’ll be too soon.” 

Sam covers his mouth on the other end, “Shit, he went to North Island?” “Actually he tried to talk to me at work. But the Admirals shooed him away. Then I gave him a piece of my mind about 20 minutes ago.” “I’m sorry, Y/N. I had no idea.” You sighed, “It’s fine. But I know you didn’t call about that, what’s going on?”

“Bucky got arrested.” “What?! Why?!” “He missed his court mandated therapy,” Sam explained. You pinched the bridge of your nose, “Why? He knows how important that is.” “He was with me in Germany. We were there on a lead. He wasn’t even supposed to be there.” You groaned and rubbed your face. “Is there anything I can do?” “No, I think his therapist is on her way.” 

You nodded, hand on your hip now, “Okay. Look, our mission got moved up a week, so I’m gonna be training a lot. So just keep an eye on him.” “Of course. I’ll keep you updated.” “Thanks. And Sam?” He hummed. “Be safe. Watch your six.” “You got it. Give ‘em hell, Star.” You both hung up and you went back to the bar.

********

Sam and Bucky walked outside of the police station. “Well, I feel better.” “I feel awful.”

A siren whooping and lights flashing caught their attention. They looked over to see John and Lamar leaning on a squad car. “Gentlemen.”

They glanced at each other before walking over.

“Good to see you again,” John greeted. He was awfully chipper for someone you just got his ass chewed out by his predecessor's daughter.

Neither spoke and just looked at him. “Look, if we divide ourselves, we don’t stand a chance, you guys know that.” John tried to reason, and he honestly thought getting Bucky out of jail would at least garner a little respect.

Sam spoke, crossing his arms, “So, what you got?” “Well, the leader’s name is Karli Morgenthau. We’ve been targeting civilians who’ve been helping Karli move from place to place,” John started. “They geotagged a location, then scrambled the signal. But our satellites have found their symbol popping up in various displacement communities all across Central and Eastern Europe,” Lamar continued.

“Mhm. We think she’s taking the medicine she just stole to one of these camps.” “Well, there are hundreds of those all over the planet since The Blip. So I guess you’ll have to look real hard,” Bucky smarted off. “Good thing I have 20/20 vision, huh?”

Bucky wasn’t having it, “Where is she now, Walker? Do you know?” “No, we don’t know, Bucky,” John said, frustration making his volume rise. “But, it’s only a matter of time before we find out.” “Things are really intense for you, aren’t they, Walker? Doesn’t help that you didn’t get your special approval from Y/N,” Bucky continued to antagonize.

Sam decided to step in, “Take it easy. Look, Walker’s right. It is imperative that we find them and stop them.” John stood up straight, thinking he finally got them on his side. Sam turned to him, “But you guys have rules of engagement and all kind of authorizations you have to get. Us, we’re free agents. We’re more flexible. So it wouldn’t make sense for us to work with you.” Sam and Bucky walked away.

“A word of advice, then,” John said, fed up with it all. They both turned back to him expectantly. “Stay the hell out of my way.” It was John and Lamar’s turn to walk away.

Bucky and Sam walked down the alley, “You really had to rub that in didn’t you?” Bucky just shrugged, “Well, he wasn’t really following her advice anyway.”

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

okay... okay i know what you guys were thinking- why not just punch the bastard?

to be honest, i want to i REALLY wanted to - but i think a blow to a man’s ego is much more lethal than getting punched

plus, we don’t need to get in trouble for fighting ‘captain america’ and lose our chance at flying this mission

but regardless i hope you enjoyed!

tags <3: @milesdickpic @luckyladycreator2 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp​

comment if you would like to be tagged <3 

[selene-writes]

Hellfire series- Skin part 1

Hey! New chapter out now. This is based off of supernatural episode season 1 episode 6 "skin"

Warnings include violence, descriptions of blood and cursing! W:C- 2298

“What am I supposed to do, just cut everybody out of my life?” Sam’s voice was sharp, his gaze fixed on Dean with frustration. Dean was leaning against the Impala, filling up the tank, while Sam sat in the front seat, absorbed in his phone. You were seated in the back, window down, trying to keep up with the conversation between the two brothers. You chewed nervously on your thumbnail, their argument making you uneasy.

Dean let out a heavy sigh. “Look, it sucks, but with a job like ours, you can’t afford to get too close to people.”

Sam scoffed, barely glancing up from his phone. “You’re kind of antisocial, you know that.” You let out a quiet laugh, but quickly stopped when you caught Dean’s piercing glare.

“Yeah, whatever,” Dean muttered, clearly annoyed.

“God,” Sam said, his voice tinged with alarm.

“What?” you asked, turning around to face him. Dean leaned over the open window, peering at Sam’s phone over his shoulder.

“This email this girl, Rebecca Warren,” Sam said, his fingers tapping on his phone. “She’s one of my old friends. She says her brother, Zach, has been charged with murder.”

“Is she hot?” Dean asked, eyes still fixed on Sam.

You rolled your eyes at Dean’s comment. “I went to school with her and her brother Zach. Rebecca says Zach has been arrested for killing his girlfriend. Rebecca says he didn’t do it, but it sounds like the police have a pretty solid case.”

“Jesus, Sam, what kind of people are you hanging out with?” Dean’s face was a mix of disbelief and concern.

“No, I know Zach. He’s no killer,” Sam replied firmly, shaking his head with conviction.

“Well,” Dean said, his tone skeptical as he tilted his head slightly to meet Sam’s gaze, “maybe you know Zach as well as he knows you.”

“Dean,” you interjected in a warning tone. Dean shot you a brief, narrowing glance before turning his attention back to Sam.

“They’re in St. Louis. We’re going,” Sam said, ignoring Dean's comment.

Dean laughed, shaking his head. “I’m sorry about your friend, okay? But this doesn’t sound like our kind of problem.”

“It is our problem. They’re my friends,” Sam retorted, his anger evident.

“St. Louis is four hundred miles behind us,” Dean said, exasperated.

Despite Dean’s reluctance, you found yourself on the road fifteen minutes later, heading towards St. Louis.

You arrived in St. Louis a few hours later, the Impala’s tires rumbling over the pavement as you pulled up in front of Becky’s house. You stood outside, taking in the well-maintained large, elegant home. Sam knocked on the door, and within seconds, it swung open to reveal a petite blonde woman with a bright, welcoming smile.

“Oh my god, Sam!” Becky exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with recognition.

“Well, if it isn’t little Becky,” Sam replied with a chuckle, a genuine smile spreading across his face. Becky’s smile widened, and she shook her head playfully as she leaned against the doorframe.

“You know you can drop the ‘little Becky’ crap now,” she said, laughing as she pulled Sam into a warm hug. As she stepped back, her gaze shifted to you and Dean.

“I got your email,” Sam said, his tone growing more serious.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come,” Becky admitted, her smile faltering slightly.

“Dean, older brother,” Dean introduced himself, stepping forward and offering a firm handshake. You noted his reluctance, a hint of annoyance in his posture.

“Hi,” Becky replied, smiling as she shook Dean’s hand. Her attention then turned to you. You stepped forward, extending your hand.

“Jane, family friend,” you said, offering a warm smile as you shook Becky’s hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Becky responded, her smile returning.

“We’re here to help, whatever we can do,” Sam assured her, his hands tucked into his pockets. Becky nodded, her expression somber.

“Come on in,” she said, stepping aside to let you all enter. She led the way into the house, Sam following closely behind. Dean hesitated for a moment, and you noticed his reluctance. You placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“This means a lot to Sam. It’ll be fine,” you said with a comforting smile. Dean sighed but followed you inside, catching up with Sam and Becky as they made their way through the house.

“Nice place,” Dean remarked, looking around at the interior.

“It’s my parents’,” Becky explained, glancing back at the three of you. “I was staying here for the long weekend when everything happened. I’ve decided to take a semester off and stay here until Zach is free.”

“Where are your folks?” Sam asked .

“They live in Paris for half the year,” Becky replied, her gaze meeting Sam’s. “They’re on their way back now for the trial.” She led you into the kitchen, where she moved behind the marble countertops and looked at you expectantly.

“Do you guys want a beer or something?” Becky offered.

“Hey!” Dean exclaimed, his face lighting up at the mention of beer.

“No thanks,” Sam said, glancing back at Dean with a disapproving look.

“So, uh, tell us what happened?” Sam asked, leaning on the counter as he turned his full attention to Becky. Becky took a deep breath, before continuing.

“Well, um, Zach came home and found Emily tied to a chair,” Becky began, her voice trembling as she looked between the three of you. “She was beaten up and bloody, and she wasn’t breathing.” Her voice cracked as she struggled to maintain her composure. “He called 911 immediately, and the police showed up and arrested him.” Tears welled up in her eyes, and she glanced down before meeting your gaze again. “But the thing is, the only way Zach could’ve killed Emily is if he was in two places at once. The police have a security video from across the street that shows Zach coming home at 10:30. Emily was killed shortly after that, but I swear Zach was with me here, having a few beers until at least after midnight.”

“You know, maybe we could take a look at the crime scene?” Sam suggested, his gaze focused on Becky.

“We could?” Dean interjected, glancing at Sam with a mix of curiosity and skepticism.

Becky looked back at Sam, her eyes red and filled with confusion. “Why? What could you possibly do?”

“Well, I might not be able to do much, but Dean and Jane are detectives,” Sam explained. You shot him a look of disbelief, but then offered a reassuring smile and nodded.

“Detectives, actually,” Dean corrected, a hint of pride in his voice. You winced inwardly.

“Really? Where?” Becky asked, intrigued.

“Brisbee, Arizona,” you replied quickly. “But we’re off duty right now.”

“And you two are partners?” Becky asked, her gaze shifting between you and Dean.

You nodded, smiling. “We are indeed.”

Becky seemed to weigh her options, glancing down in thought. “It’s really kind of you to offer, but I don’t know…”

“Becky, look, I know Zach didn’t do this,” Sam said earnestly, leaning closer to her. “We need to find a way to prove his innocence.”

“Okay,” Becky sighed, looking between the three of you. “I’m going to get the keys.” She turned and walked toward the entrance, leaving you with Dean and Sam.

Dean walked over to Sam, whistling softly. “Oh yeah, Sam, you’re a real straight shooter with your friends.”

Sam stood up and met Dean’s gaze, his expression unchanging. “Look, Zach and Becky need our help.”

“I just don’t think this is our kind of problem,” Dean said, shaking his head.

You joined the conversation, standing next to Sam. “Two places at once, Dean? We’ve looked into weirder cases than this for less.”

Dean sighed, then nodded reluctantly. “Fine, let’s see what we can find out.”

You arrived at the house about ten minutes later. The white brick building stood, highlighted by the yellow caution tape wrapped around it. Curious civilians on the sidewalk cast glances toward the scene.

You walked inside, with Dean leading the way. Sam and you followed, entering the kitchen. Blood was smeared across most surfaces: the wooden floors, the chairs, and even the kitchen island, which was cluttered with newspapers and bruised fruit, now stained with more blood.

“Beck, do you want to wait outside?” Sam suggested, glancing back at Becky, who had paused at the entrance. She stood there, her arms wrapped around herself and fear evident in her eyes. She hesitated for a moment before shaking her head resolutely.

“No, I want to help,” she said, ducking under the tape and walking toward you all.

Dean moved forward to examine a photograph on the counter. It depicted a smiling couple: a man with dark hair, a small beard, and warm eyes, and a blonde woman with bright, cheerful eyes. They were wrapped in each other’s arms.

“What else did the police say?” you asked, trying to get more information.

“Well…” Becky cleared her throat, her voice quivering. “There was no sign of a break-in. They think Emily let her attacker in. The lawyers are already talking about a plea bargain.” Her gaze swept the room, taking in the blood-splattered walls, and she let out a sob.

“Look, Beck,” Sam said, his tone gentle but firm, “if Zach didn’t do this, then someone else did.”

Becky nodded, her eyes filled with tears. “Any idea who?” Sam pressed.

She shook her head, her gaze fixed on the floor. “Um, there was something. About a week before the murder, someone broke in here and stole Zach’s clothes. The police dismissed it, said it was probably just a random robbery. We’re not far from downtown; sometimes people get robbed.”

At that moment, growling and barking pierced the silence. Dean walked over to the window, pulling aside the curtain to see a pit bull chained up next door, barking furiously. Becky joined you and Dean at the window.

“You know that used to be the sweetest dog,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief.

“What happened?” Dean asked, narrowing his eyes.

“He just changed,” Becky replied with a sigh.

“Do you remember when he changed?” Dean asked, glancing between Becky and the dog.

“I guess around the time of the murder,” Becky said, shrugging.

Dean sighed, turning to walk past the counter as Becky exited the room.

“So the neighbor’s dog went psycho right around the time Zach’s girlfriend was killed,” Dean observed, glancing between you and Sam.

“Animals can sometimes sense the supernatural,” you said, blowing a strand of hair out of your face.

“Maybe Fido saw something,” Dean replied, peering at the window with a hint of skepticism.

“So, do you think this might be our kind of problem?” Sam asked, turning to Dean.

“No, probably not,” Dean said, shaking his head, though there was a trace of concession in his tone. “But we should definitely check out the security tape to be sure.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, nodding with a slight smile.

“Yeah,” Dean echoed, nodding more firmly. You glanced over to see Becky approaching with a determined expression.

“So, that tape—the security footage-do you think maybe your lawyers could get their hands on it?” Dean asked. “We don’t have that kind of jurisdiction.”

“I’ve already got it,” Becky said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I didn’t want to mention it in front of the cops.” She looked a bit shy as she added, “I stole it from the lawyer’s desk. I just had to see it for myself.”

“Alright,” you said, giving her a reassuring smile as you pursed your lips. Dean gestured toward the exit, and Becky turned, with you following closely behind her.

You returned to Becky’s house just as dusk began to settle. 

“Hey Beck, can we grab those beers now?” Sam called from across the room. You glanced over at him, noting his fatigue. He looked worn out—his nights still plagued by nightmares. You were equally sleep-deprived, though you tried to push past it. Sam’s request struck you as odd; he wasn’t usually one to drink on the job.

“Oh, sure,” Becky replied, standing up with a nod.

“Oh, and Becky?” Sam added as she reached the doorframe. She turned back to him. “Maybe some sandwiches too?”

“What do you think this is, Hooters?” Becky replied with a playful smile before walking out of the room.

“I wish,” Dean muttered, sighing as he relaxed on the couch arm.

“What’s up?” you asked, turning to Sam with curiosity.

“Check this out,” he said, eyes fixed on the TV, which was currently displaying the security footage. You and Dean walked over, standing next to him as Sam fiddled with the remote. The video frame moved backward slightly and paused, focusing on Zach as he walked past. At that moment, his eyes flashed white.

“Maybe it’s just a camera flare?” Dean suggested, looking from the screen to Sam and then to you.

“Not like any camera flare I’ve ever seen,” you said, sighing and shaking your head. Dean squinted at the screen, clearly intrigued. The white flash wasn’t a typical camera glitch.

“A lot of cultures believe that a photograph can capture a glimpse of the soul,” Sam said, glancing between the two of you.

“Right,” Dean agreed, nodding. 

“Remember that dog that was freaking out?” Sam asked, looking at both of you. “Maybe it saw this thing. Maybe this is some kind of dark double of Zach,” he said, gesturing toward the TV. “Something that looks like him but isn’t.”

“Like a doppelganger,” Dean suggested, glancing at Sam with a mix of interest and concern.

“That would explain how he was in two places at once,” you said, stepping back from the TV, your mind racing with the implications.

“Fucking hell, just great,” Dean muttered.

[ashcal99]

Certain Things : Leah Clearwater VI

Chapter Six

"Something about you, It's like an addiction, Hit me with your best shot honey, I've got no reason to doubt you, 'Cause certain things hurt, And you're my only virtue"

Summary: Conner Swan moves to Forks Washington in hopes to help his sister Bella through her breakup with Edward. In hopes to find happiness again. He finds much more.

Warnings: Eventual smut (18+ only), mentions of death, depression, loss, antidepressants, general angst, slow burn

Words: 3.5k

A/N: Comment if I missed any warning or anything plz thnx.

Soundtrack

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

——————

March 20th, 2006

Leah stood staring at the man’s outreached hand. Her thoughts were going a mile a minute as she tried to force herself forwards, vaguely aware of the growing awkwardness as the seconds ticked by. She silently stepped forward, taking his pale hand in her own. Electric shocks ran up her arm, feeling the effect of his skin on her own radiating across her body. 

Conner felt this too, curiosity in the forefront of his mind. The woman was literally taking his breath away. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he noted that he hadn’t felt like this since meeting Mia, hell maybe even ever. His fingers lingered on her skin as he slowly dropped his hold. 

Leah blinked up at him, tilting her head slightly. “It’s nice to meet you too, Conner.” She said lightly, her voice sending shivers down his spine. She was an angel. She had to be, it was the only explanation for the way she had effected him. He needed to get a grip on himself, before he started embarrassing himself. 

——————

March 22nd, 2006

Their meeting hadn’t lasted long, Leah quickly making an excuse to leave. She hadn’t known what to do, given the situation. She had never been too great around guys, the only one she had ever dated being Sam, and they had known each other for years before they started dating. The unease of the situation made her nervous, and suddenly, she had everything to lose again. 

She wasn’t sure what to expect when it came to imprinting on someone. She had seen through the minds of her pack, what it would be like, but nothing would’ve prepared her for the actual experience. It was as if her entire world had shifted, all of her past worries fading away. The only thing that mattered anymore was Conner. His safety. His happiness. Just him. Everything else seemed so trivial now.

She hadn’t seen the man since the funeral, needing space to gather her thoughts. But as time passed it gradually became more and more difficult to stay away. It only been less than two days, but it felt as if the separation had been going on for months at the least. Her heart ached, longing to be by her mate’s side.

After leaving the reception of the funeral, she had gone running to the pack immediately after. As soon as she phased, they saw her memories through her eyes. Sam had been relieved, glad to see that Leah would finally catch a break. The rest were just happy to be done with the constant torture of her sorrow. She was happy to learn that Conner already knew the pack’s secret and in turn her own. One less thing to worry about having to confess, she figured.

Jake had been a bit more apprehensive of the idea of Leah imprinting on the older Swan sibling. He had let it slip that Conner had a rough past, not going into detail with her much. He had just told her to tread lightly, that he was already fragile. Leah’s chest had tightened at the thought of her imprint feeling any level of pain, the idea of his sadness burning a hole in her heart. 

It was the beginning of day two since meeting the man that she decided to go seek him out, it having not even been forty-eight hours since her world had shifted. Jacob had let it slip the night previous where the man had worked, so she decided to visit him during his shift, figuring it was the easiest way to go about. 

So there she stood, outside the small cafe, trying to gather the courage to enter the establishment. She glanced into the large windows of the front of the building, her eyes immediately falling onto him. She pushed herself forward, seeing him sparking the courage inside of her needed to enter the front door.

Conner looked up from his notepad, hearing the small ring of the bell, notifying him of a customer. His eyes landed on her, his breath catching in his throat. He ripped his eyes away from her with some difficulty, finishing taking the order of the table he was at. He turned from the table, finding the woman sitting at the small square table in the corner of the room. 

He made his way to Leah, heart pounding in his ears. He stopped directly in front of her, sending her a small smile. The smile melted her heart, causing the corners of her mouth to turn up in response. “Can I get you something to drink?” He asked casually, holding his pen to the pad of paper in his hand. 

Leah’s mind reeled, taking in the soft bass of his voice. Comfort washed over her as she relished in his presence. “Umm- yeah, just a coke please?” She asked politely.

Conner nodded softly, eyes not leaving hers. His mouth opened to reply, hanging open for a few moments, before he closed it abruptly. Nodding slightly again, he swallowed the lump forming in his throat, and turned, making his was swiftly behind the counter. What the hell was that? Why was he acting like a teenager? He needed to pull his shit together and quick.

He returned to the table a moment later, ice cold soda in hand. Setting the glass down gently, he looked to the woman. “Sorry… I’m not sure what’s gotten into me.” He said, chuckling lightly. “I usually have better manners.” He said, referring to the way he had left just moments ago without saying anything.

She cleared her throat. “I actually came to invite you out to the La Push beach tonight for a bonfire? The whole pack will be there.” She reassured. 

A smile slowly spread across his face. “Sure, I’d love to.” He said, socking even himself. Since when did he willingly socialize? He supposed he may have agreed to go due to the person who asked him. He figured he would probably say yes to her for anything she asked of him. He had felt oddly comfortable around the woman, so in retrospect, it wasn’t exactly surprising in the least to see how he would jump at the chance to spend more time with her. 

Leah smiled up at the man, happy to see that he was willing to spend more time in her presence. Her suddenly gaze dropped to her hands, twiddling her thumbs nervously. She didn’t know how to act around the man. She hadn’t ever felt like this around anyone, not even Sam, and it had been so long since she was happy. It was almost like she didn’t know how to handle being anything but sad or angry again.

He smiled down to her, butterflies filling his stomach to the brink of nausea. His cheeks ached in protest to the grin adorning them, not being used to smiling so wide. It had been so long since he had felt like this, so carefree. The weight of the world finally off of his shoulders. 

By the end, Leah had reluctantly left the diner, having to get home to prepare for the bonfire. She had tried to pay for the soda, but Conner had insisted it was on the house. He refused to let her pay for the drink, her presence having already made his day the best he had in so long. 

As soon as she had left however, his day had dampened. The sun seemed to dim in the sky, but he knew it was most likely his imagination. After that, his shift dragged on. He was looking forward to seeing her again that night, not exactly knowing why the prospect had made him so giddy with anticipation. He hadn’t felt this excited about the idea of spending time with someone since Mia and he had just barley met the woman. 

Guilt prodded the back of his mind, making him question whether or not he was ready to befriend the woman yet. He wasn’t sure how long of a morning period would be appropriate given the situation, but surely a little over a year was not enough right? He knew it was too soon to be thinking of this, but he had a feeling from the way she had made his heart race in his chest just by looking in his direction, that he wouldn’t be able to be just friends with the woman. He felt like a middle school boy getting his first crush, but at the same time, like she had replaced the sun in the center of his universe. He needed stop getting ahead of himself. He had just met her, and barely knew anything about her, although he doubted anything would change the way he was feeling. 

By the time his shift had ended, the sun was beginning to set. He knew he needed to hurry if he wanted to shower before heading out. Considering he knew for a fact that he smelled like maple and eggs, he really needed to rid himself of the stench, especially since Leah would be there. 

He rushed inside he house, only to stop dead in his tracks when he took in the view before him. Bella was sat on the couch, television on, eyes closed as she snored softly, her head resting on a certain unnaturally pale shoulder. He knew she was only downstairs because Charlie was still at work, knowing he wouldn’t be back for another hour or so. He stared at the vampire for a moment, amber eyes staring back, filling his stomach with unease. 

He sighed, ripping his eyes away from the pale teen on sitting in his living room. He didn’t have time for this shit. Leah was his priority at the moment, and he wouldn’t let Edward deter him. He slammed the bathroom door, turning on the shower, quickly ridding himself of the smelly clothing. Steam gradually filled the small room, making his already damp hair stick to his forehead. He stepped under the stream of hot water, letting the scalding water run down his body. He grabbed his shampoo, squeezing a generous amount into the palm of his hand, lathering it into his scalp. Quickly rinsing the soap from his hair, he took his loofa, running it over the hard plains of his body. He stepped back under the stream, to allow the water to wash the sudds away from his body.

He stepped out of the shower, water dripping from his sopping hair. Wrapping a fluffy towel around his waist, he made his way swiftly to his room. He was fairly certain that he had just taken the fastest shower of his life, but he chose not to acknowledge this as he closed and locked his bedroom door behind him. 

He pulled old tattered jeans from his dresser, taking note that he desperately needed to do his laundry. He was trying to look nice for the night, and it didn’t exactly help that he had been putting off cleaning his clothes for the past few weeks. He only had a few options for shirts, but he settled on a simple white t-shirt, throwing on an Arizona State University sweatshirt over top, knowing it would start to get cold now that the sun had set. He sat on the edge of his bed, pulling socks onto his feet followed by his worn out doc martins. God, he really needed to put in effort to buy new clothing, all of his were falling apart at the seems. 

He flung his door open in a hurry, pocketing his cellphone and keys as he rushed down the stairs, taking two at a time. He walked out of the front door, not even throwing a glance back at the two teens that still sat in the living room. He was in a hurry not only to avoid his sister, but to see Leah and he decided to not pay too close attention to this fact, because he didn’t want the headache that would follow. 

His truck trudged along, carrying him swiftly through the rows of trees that lined the road. He sighed a breath of relief as the sand came into view, followed by the soft glow of the fire. He parked his truck across the road from the beach, quickly stepping out and locking the door. He looked both ways, making sure there was nobody coming before he hurried to the other side, slowing as he approached the crowd. 

He spotted Jake first, deciding to go over and greet the teen. “Hey, Jake.” He greeted, sending the boy a soft smile. Jacob waved in return, a small frown covering his lips. Conner was sure he had been stressing about his sister, worrying about her safety, so he tried easing his discomfort the best he could. “She’s home, and she’s safe.” He assured him. “She’s also grounded and only allowed to leave the house for work and school.” He added, sending a small smirk to the teen. 

This earned a slight smile in return, Jacob thanking the man for attempting to comfort him. He sighed, looking to the man’s wandering gaze. “She’s over there.” He said smirking, pointing to the opposite side of the fire pit.

Conner raised an eyebrow at the teen in questioning. Was he that obvious?Whatever. He’d might as well take advantage of the information and find who he had came for. He turned, making his way towards the woman. He passed by a few of the men he had met previously, greeting them as he walked by, and slowly she came into view. She sat, perched on a log that had been placed in the sand, hands clasped together, clearly in deep thought. As he reached the woman, he let a smile fall on his lips, sitting down next to her. Her head shot up to his face, the look of concern quickly dropping from her features as she took in the sight of him.

She had been nervous that he wouldn’t show, worried that she had scared him off, but now he was here. And she could finally breath. “Hi.” She said. “I wasn’t sure you would come.” She confessed, taking in the details of his face in such close proximity. His cheeks were flushed with cold, damp hair hanging slightly over his eyes. He must have just showered, she decided. She blushed at the sudden images in her mind, picturing the way water would roll off his bare back down the length of his body. Nope. Not the time, she thought, quickly shaking the images from her brain. 

He looked at her, noticing the pink dusting her cheeks. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He said. Was he flirting? No, just admitting the truth, he concluded. He wasn’t sure what it was about her, but something made him want to confess everything to her. 

She looked towards the fire momentarily, admiring the view of the flames dancing in the air. “So, Sam said you’ve met some of the pack.” She said, trying to casually bring up the subject. She turned her face back to his, awaiting his reply.

Conner looked at her, smiling at the way the fire shown in the reflection of her eyes. “I did.” He confessed. “And if this is your way of casually asking if I know your deep dark secret, yes. I am aware that you have the ability of turning into a giant dog.” He teased, earning a small laugh from the woman. 

The sound made his heart flutter, and he relished in it. Leah stood abruptly, offering her hand to the man. In truth, she had just wanted to take in the feel of his skin again, but she would use helping him up as an excuse for that any day. “Care to take a walk?” She asked nervously. 

He reached forwards, excepting her hand, liking the excuse to touch her almost as much as she did. “Lead the way.” He said, gesturing ahead of them, reluctantly dropping her hand in the process. He immediately missed the warmth of her touch, but he didn’t want to push anything, just happy to be in her presence. 

They walked side by side along the shore, the waves gently crashing beside them. “So how did you find out about the pack?” Leah asked, not knowing the full story, having only glimpsed small bits and and pieces in the memories of her pack.

Conner looked to the sky, watching the stars twinkle above. “Bella.” He said simply. “She tried getting up in Paul’s face and smacked him.” He said laughing lightly. Leah’s eye widened at his words. Did his sister have a death wish or something? Paul of all people.

Conner continued. “I had driven her over to Jake’s, so I watched the whole thing happen. He phased and then Jake did too.” He said, the memory having been burned into his brain.

Leah laughed lightly. “Well that’s one way to find out.” She said, looking to him, seeing the profile of his face illuminated by the moon.

“Yeah, that’s one way to put it.” He said laughing as well. “Anyway, Jered and Embry brought us over to Sam’s afterwards to explain things.” He said. “I didn’t even know about the Cullens before then, but in retrospect, I knew something was off about them. They’re too ungodly perfect.” He said uncomfortably.

Leah hummed in agreement. That must have been a lot for him to experience all at once like that. “So, I guess you met my cousin Emily too then?” She asked.

Conner’s eyes widened in shock. “Emily is your cousin?” He asked incredulously. Receiving a nod from her, he blinked, processing the information. “Jesus, I knew about you and Sam breaking up, but your cousin of all people? That’s honestly really fucked up.” He said bluntly, immediately wishing he had avoided the subject.

She puffed out a breath of air in response. “Yeah, I was mad for a really long time, but it’s easier now that I’ve phased and know he imprinted on her.” She admitted. 

Conner turned his head to her, raising an eyebrow. “Imprinted?” He asked curiously, patiently awaiting her explanation.

Shit. Guess now was as of a time as any. “Yeah, it’s a wolf thing… It’s like when you see them and everything changes. All of a sudden it isn’t gravity holding you to the earth anymore, it’s them. Nothing else matters. You would do anything, be anything for them.” She rambled on. Butterflies swarmed her stomach. She had never been so nervous in her life. 

Conner sucked in a breath, his lungs suddenly feeling constricted. “You sound like you speak from experience.” He said softly, finding it hard to breath. 

“Yeah…” Leah started, causing his heart to drop to his stomach, making him queasy. He didn’t know what to do with this information. He barely knew the woman, but his heart ached at the thought of not having her. “Jake… told me that you’ve been though some shit. He didn’t go into detail, but I don’t want you to take this the wrong way. I’ll understand if you don’t want anything to come from it, and we can be friends or whatever you’re comfortable with. I don’t want to overwhelm you, but…” She paused, sucking in a breath. “It’s you.” She confessed finally, looking into his eyes.

Conner felt like he could breath again, relief flooding his veins. He bit back a grin, finding comfort in her eyes. “I guess that does make sense.” He said.

Leah looked at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “How so?” She asked, relieved he had taken the information so well. She was just happy he hadn’t gone running away screaming at this point. 

He laughed softly, trying to put his thoughts into words. “You make me feel like a twelve year old boy when I’m around you. I just get so… flustered.” He admitted, earning a bright smile from the woman. It knocked the breath out of him, but he pressed on, grabbing her hand in his palm. He gave into the need to touch her, his shame and nervousness melting away with her confession. “But I do need time to think over everything… I think. I can’t tell you everything about me, not yet anyway, but I will eventually, I know that for sure. And I know I enjoy being around you, but it's difficult for me, being close to people.” He confessed, his smile dropping from his face. “I guess I just need time to process, but I do want to continue spending time together, if that’s alright with you.” He said. 

She nodded in understanding. “Of course, take all the time you need.” She said sending him a small smile. He looked into her eyes, feeling the soft skin of her hand in his, and he felt his heart begin to heal.

Next Chapter

[late-to-the-party-81]

Cock Warming - Bucky Barnes Bingo - Y1

AN: So this ended up being a lot fluffier than it was supposed to be, lol. Massive thanks to @christywantspizza for spitballing the ideas for this with me and beta-ing.

This fits in with my SamBucky Stories 'verse

Series Master list | Main Master list

Relationship: Sam x Bucky

Word count: 2.4k

CW: Fluff, Undernegotiated kink, Dom Sam Wilson, Sub Bucky Barnes, Sub space, Self-loathing and issues with self-worth, boys in love

“God damn it!”  Sam winced at Bucky’s exclamation, and also at the way the door bounced off the wall behind him, as he stormed into their room at the new Avengers compound.

“C’mon, Buck. It wasn’t that bad.”

Bucky just let out a grunt and stabbed his knife down into the table. Sam was glad they were here in upstate New York and not at home. Bucky continued to huff as he practically tore his tac jacket off, dropping it on the floor, before striding over to the small fridge in the kitchen area. Pulling the door open, practically yanking it off its hinges - wouldn’t be the first time- he grabbed the carton of juice and brought it to his lips, gulping down the tart liquid and wiping the excess off with the back of his hand. 

Sam, still in his suit, minus the wing pack - ‘cos that shit was heavy - stood, watching.

“I almost fucked up, Sam.”

Bucky moved to the couch and dropped down onto it, elbows resting on his knees and arms dangling between his spread thighs.

“I almost got those civilians killed. Fuck! There were kids in that group, and they almost…”

He dropped his head into his hands, and Sam could tell his mind was going a mile a minute, reliving that horrifying moment over and over. Sam knew Bucky well, knew him well before they got together. Knew that without some kind of intervention he’d get stuck in a spiral of self-doubt and self-destruction. An episode like this hadn’t happened in a while, not since the change in their relationship and Sam was musing over the best way to deal with it. He had a thought, wasn’t sure how it would go, but just maybe…

Shutting the door to their room, he leant the Shield up against the wall, out of the way, before walking over to Bucky.

“Bucky, Sugar, it’s alright. Almost isn’t did. You saved them, baby. They’re all okay.”

Bucky lifted his head and worried at the nails on his right hand with his teeth. Emotions were swirling in the grey depths of his eyes. Sam dropped to a crouch in front of him, taking hold of both his hands, the difference in temperature between them both familiar and odd at the same time.

“You need to get out of your head. I’ve got a plan to help, but I need you to agree. You trust me?”

Bucky’s lips twitched in a small, albeit brief smile.

“Always trust you, Sammy.”

Sam dropped a tender kiss to Bucky’s brow, and tightened his grip on the hands in his own.

“You got a colour for me then. Baby?”

He saw Bucky’s eyes go wide, realisation hitting him, and then a flush started to make its way up the supersoldier’s neck.

“Green, Sammy. I want you to help me.”

“I know. I know. Always so good for me, when I ask.”

Sam leant forwards and kissed him, trying to put all his love and reassurance into it, and taking Bucky’s hurt and vulnerability. It didn’t last too long; Sam had further plans, but it lasted enough to send Bucky just a little bit sweet. Sam pulled Bucky to his feet and then turned around.

“Help me out of my suit, Buck. Nice and steady. No need to rush. Then when you’re done, you’re gonna strip off, tidy the clothes, including your tac jacket over there, back into their proper places and then come and join me in the bathroom, okay?”

No reply. Sam rolled his eyes to himself. Bucky had probably nodded.

“I need words, sweetheart. You gonna do what I’ve asked?”

“Yes, Sam.”

Bucky’s voice was soft and low. That was the voice of James Buchanan Barnes, as opposed to Sgt. Barnes. Sam loved that it was mainly reserved for him, this gentler, sweeter persona. It sent a frisson of warmth up his spine.

Bucky’s hands came to Sam’s back, slowly working the zipper, dragging it down to where it stopped at the swell of Sam’s ass. The only sounds in the room were the two of them breathing and that particular metallic sound of metal teeth unmeshing from each other. Bucky moved round to Sam’s front and eased the suit over Sam’s shoulders in turn, pulling the vibranium fabric off of each toned and muscular arm. Despite the ease of the task, he was putting all his concentration into it, being as delicate and reverent as possible.

When both of Sam’s arms were free, Bucky dropped to his knees so he could push the suit lower, sliding it off Sam’s backside and down his strong thighs. A quick pause, so he could remove Sam’s shoes, and then the suit was over each of Sam’s feet, leaving him only dressed in his long suit undershorts and tight fitting tee. 

Bucky looked up from his position on the floor, and Sam felt his heart jump and heat suffuse his body.

“Help with the rest of it, Buck, then you can tidy up while I get the shower ready.” Sam’s voice was husky, and his heart started to race as Bucky nodded again (Sam let him off this time) and curled his fingers, those fingers that could touch so gently or maim so violently, around the waistband of his shorts and dragged them down.

His blue-grey eyes lingered momentarily on Sam’s cock, which was sporting a half chub, before he stood and pulled Sam’s tee up and over his head, rendering him naked.

“Thank you, Buck.” Sam cupped his boyfriend’s cheek, feeling the scruff tickle his palm, and aware of how Bucky leant into him. 

“Being so good for me, baby. I’ll see you in a few moments. Don’t take too long. We need to get washed up.”

Sam turned away and strode through to the bathroom, a sway to his hips. His Bucky radar let him know he was being stared at, as he went. It wasn’t the ‘murder’ stare though. No, this was the ‘lust’ stare; Sam was familiar with the feeling of both by now.

He left the door to the bathroom ajar as he turned on the shower. There were various jets and heads, and Sam was more than thankful for them, given the state of his muscles after this latest fight. He needed to relax as much as Bucky did and he hoped his plan would allow that for both of them.

Bucky appeared on silent feet. Sam was used to that by now, and luckily, because he was expecting it this time, it didn’t make him jump. 

“Arm off, Buck. I’ll help you clean it properly later.”  

He grasped Bucky’s left arm, to take the weight and stop it from falling to the floor when released, and Bucky brought his right arm up to type in the disengage code. A whirl and a series of fast clicks and vibranium came free from Bucky’s shoulder joint.

Sam placed the prosthetic on the bench and turned back, with a soft smile on his face. He held out his hand, and Bucky placed his right into it, allowing Sam to pull him underneath the spray. Both of them let out moans as the hot water pummelled at their bruises and knots. For a moment, Sam just stood there, Bucky in his arms, as the water caressed them, and cut out the outside world, but as much as he might like to, they couldn’t stay like that forever.  

Easing back, Sam directed Bucky to turn, before plucking the correct shampoo from the shower caddy; he’d accidently used his shampoo on Bucky’s hair once, and it hadn’t gone well. Sam lathered some up in his hands, before setting to massaging Bucky’s scalp, humming a Marvin Gaye tune as he went. Bucky’s body relaxed slightly, making Sam smile. With Bucky’s chestnut locks all soaped up, Sam grabbed the washcloth and shower gel, and started to work on cleansing Bucky’s body. 

When he got to the angry mass of scar tissue on Bucky’s left shoulder he stopped briefly.

“Hard or soft, Sugar?”

Sometimes Bucky needed the shit pummelled out of his shoulder, and sometimes he could barely stand for it to be touched. It was better for both of them if Sam checked each time.

“Hard,” came the choked out reply, and Sam pressed a kiss to the juncture of Bucky’s shoulder and neck before digging into the solid flesh.

Bucky’s head dropped forwards and his right hand closed tight into a fist before reopening again.

“Tell me if it gets too much, okay?”

“Mmm-hmm. Feels good, Sammy.”

After spending a few minutes working the muscles, Sam turned Bucky so that one of the side jets continued to press into that spot. He then set to work cleaning the rest of Bucky’s war weary body. 

He displayed his love without words, soaping and stroking and rinsing, pressing kisses to the larger scars that littered the canvas of Bucky’s skin. Each kiss was an ‘I love you’, a ‘you are wanted’, and by the time Sam got to Bucky’s feet, and looked back up, he was almost certain there were tears in Bucky’s eyes. 

He rose back up, tilting Bucky’s head back and rinsing out the shampoo bubbles, before applying a small amount of conditioner to the ends. He kissed Bucky’s wet, closed eyelids and then gave his own hair and body a wash. The last thing was to wash out Bucky’s conditioner before shutting off the shower and wrapping Bucky in a large, warm towel.

“Still green, baby?”

“Of course, Sammy.”

“Come on then.” 

Towel around their waists, Sam led Bucky back to the lounge. He sat down on the sofa, splayed his legs, causing his towel to fall to the sides, and turned on the TV. Bucky, sensing he was supposed to be doing something, but not sure what, looked down at him, expectantly, his right hand toying with the edge of his towel.

“Kneel down, Sugar. Get yourself all comfortable and rest your head on my thigh.”

Bucky shuffled forwards, moving down as Sam said, and shifted his head, including damp hair, on Sam’s warm skin. Sam placed his hand on Bucky’s head, a gentle weight to help Bucky relax.

“Colour?”

“Still green, Sam.”

“Okay. I want you to take my dick in your mouth and keep me warm while I watch some TV. Don’t suck. You just gotta keep it all nice and warm, alright? Sound good, baby?”

Bucky met Sam’s gaze and let out a small whine.

“Good boy. In your own time, Buck. You can get me hard first if you want to.”

Sam settled back against the cushions and started to surf through the channels, searching for something mind numbing, and trying to ignore his sweet boyfriend between his legs; a near impossible task.

Bucky’s warm breath fanned against the sensitive skin of Sam’s thighs and balls. His cock stirred in anticipation, coming back to the half chub it had had before their shower. Then, Bucky’s hand moved, coming up to take hold of Sam, firmly but gently. Sam’s eyelids fluttered at the familiar touch and he let out a small sigh. This was going to be… well… hard.

Only a few touches later and Sam was fully erect. Bucky lent further forward and gave him a few kitten licks, trying to cover Sam in saliva to make it easier to get as much as possible in his mouth. Sam tried desperately to pay attention to what Abi Shuto was telling Gibbs about the latest naval officer death, as Bucky swallowed him down and then stilled, head resting on Sam’s inner thigh and the breath from his nose tickling the trimmed patch of hair on Sam’s lower abdomen.

Sam stroked Bucky’s hair, running his fingers through the damp locks that were trying to curl slightly as they dried and relaxed into the feeling of Bucky’s mouth around him. Bucky’s always warm body pressed against him, the sound of the two of them breathing the only thing accompanying the television. He was aware that, gradually, Bucky’s breathing slowed, that he was resting more against Sam’s leg than holding himself up. Bucky’s eyes were shut and some drool was escaping, dampening Sam’s balls, but he couldn’t complain. Bucky might not be asleep, but he was quiet and relaxed. Escaping the demons that plagued him, for at least a short time.

The episode finished and another one played, and Sam finally realised they’d been there about an hour. He moved his hand to Bucky’s cheek, brushing his thumb over the prominent bone, rousing his lover back to reality.

“Hey, Jamie, baby, you good?”

Bucky pulled himself off Sam’s cock, that was back to the half chub stage, and blinked, sleepily. He looked so delicate and sweet, a thousand miles away from the deadly assassin the world thought him to be. Sam took the edge of his towel and wiped at the edges of Bucky’s mouth to remove the bits of drool.

Bucky swallowed heavily.

“Mmm good, Sammy. Sleepy.”

“I know, baby. So good for me. So pretty and sweet.”

Bucky flushed again and Sam felt that familiar thrill ripple through him. He didn’t often get the urge to dom Bucky, but, hell, the man was just so beautiful when he went all submissive; when he allowed himself to be cared for. This was the first time, though, that they’d done something like this, and it felt good. The plan to get Bucky out of his head had worked.

Bucky blinked again, and yawned, looking for all the world like a sleepy kitten, and Sam decided it was probably time for bed.

“Come on, Sugar, let’s get to bed and sleep. If we wake up hungry in a few hours, we’ll sort ourselves out then.

They walked through to the bedroom, hand in hand, discarding their towels to deal with later. Sam helped Bucky into some sleep shorts, grabbed some for himself, steered his sleepy boyfriend into the bed and then climbed in himself.

Bucky cuddled right up to his side, arm thrown over Sam’s waist and holding on tight.

“Love you, Sammy.”

Sam dropped a kiss to the top of his head.

“Love you too, Jamie-baby.”

Tag list: @jobean12-blog @yarnforbrains @sidepartskinnyjeans @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @ohsymphony @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @seitmai @talia-rumlow @buckybarnesbingo

[luna-nigthshade-wood]

What they don´t know, will hurt them

Summary: Dean Winchesters attempts suicide on a dirty motel bathtub, ending brain dead on a hospital. A trickster promises John and Sam that he will save him for “free”, as long as they both get through watching a series of Dean´s memories, good and bad. The twist is that they will feel everything Dean did at the time and they can stop it at any time, but then Dean will die. They both accept thinking it cant be that bad. Spoiler: it is worse.  

Chapter 35

As the memories keep flowing on the screen, John cant help but marvel at how blind he had been about his oldest son´s life and struggles. He never once cared how his sons where getting by without him, he never cared if they had enough money or if they had enough to eat. He always congratulated himself for a job well done, because clearly he must have done something right for his sons to turn down as they did. He truly was a fool, and now he risks losing everything.

The screen turns on once more, this time showing Dean and “Sam” inside the Impala, “Sam” clearly distracted as he is going through his phone; which prompts Dean to question him:

-I have been listening- “Sam” clearly annoyed- I am just busy. Reading emails from my friends at Stanford.

-You’re kidding- Dean says, baffled- You still keep in touch with your college buddies?

-Why not?- “Sam” questions

-Well, what exactly do you tell them?- Dean questions- You know, about where you have been, what you have been doing?

-I tell them I’m on a road trip with my big brother. I tell them I needed some time off after Jess.

-Oh, so you lie to them- Dean claims, disapproval in his voice

-No. I just don’t tell them everything- “Sam” rebuts- And what am I supposed to do, just cut everybody out of my life?- the last sentence makes Dean shrugs, and to the untrained eye, he would look unbothered, maybe the same would have happened to his family have they not been able to feel the internal struggle inside Dean

-You’re serious?- “Sam” exclaims angrily

-Look, it sucks, but in a job like this, you can’t get close to people, period- Dean tells him, and it drives a knife to John´s gut hearing his son parroting a phrase he had said to him a million times

-You’re kind of anti-social, you know that?- “Sam” asks and this time there is no denying the hurt

“Sam” continues to read his e-mails ignoring his brother, before discovering something

-This girl, Rebeca- he tells Dean- I went to school with her, and her brother, Zack. She says Zack’s been charged with murder. He’s been arrested for killing his girlfriend. Rebecca says he didn’t do it, but it sounds like the cops have a pretty good case.

-Dude, what kind of people are you hanging out with?- Dean asks bewildered

-No, man, I know Zack. He’s no killer- “Sam° claims- They’re in St. Louis. We’re going- he states and the Sam watching cant help but flinch at the callous tone he gives his brother

-Look, sorry about your buddy, okay?- Dean says taken aback by the request-But this does not sound like our kind of problem.

-It is our problem. They’re my friends.

-St. Louis is four hundred miles behind us, Sam- Dean says maintaining eye contact with his brother for less than a minute before lowering his eyes and starting the drive to St. Louis.

Sam cant help but feel terrible at the interaction, once more, Dean is doing what Sam has demanded with minimal complaining, regardless of his feelings in the matter, and yeah it turned out to be a case, but what if it hadn’t and his friend had been a murder? Weren´t Dean´s claims valid enough to guarantee at the very least a lengthier discussion? Sam is also not a fan of the tone he spoke to his brother or the callous words he threw around, especially when the only thing was trying to do was giving him advise. Sam is coming to the conclusion he treated Dean horribly and now he can only live with the consequences

John sees the scene almost numb in his seat. He knows he is the reason why his sons were never able to get close to anyone, in Dean case even more so. He isolated his sons trying to prevent them from getting hurt the way that he, himself, had been, he rationalized it by thinking that this way nobody could hurt his kids, but the only thing he accomplished was pushing Sam away from him and making Dean unable to try and ask for help in his darkest times. He failed them as a father and the scenes on the screen do nothing but show him to him.

The scene cuts to the brothers arriving at Becky´s house, with “Sam” offering his and Dean help to the girl. “Sam” questions his friend for information, and she reveals that the security camera showed her brother entering his apartment at 10:30 and supposedly killing his girlfriend right after, however her brother was with her the whole time so he couldn’t have done it, “Sam” asks to see the crime scene and lies about it being okay as Dean is a cop. Becky quickly agrees, and goes to fetch the keys, while she is gone, Dean tells “Sam”

-I still don’t think this is our kind of problem- Dean says

-Two places at one- “Sam” asks him- We had looked into for less- To which Dean secretly agrees.

The brothers and Becky arrive at Zack´s house, trying to find evidence in the crime scene. While they are looking around, Dean notices a dog barking at the window, which Becky explains as an oddity, because the dog was known to be sweet, with Dean finally accepting to look into the case by checking the security footage.

The video shows who appears to be Zach entering the house, however the moment the camera catches his face, his eyes seem to flash, which makes the boys wonders about what could the monster possible be.

The next morning, “Sam” guides them towards the house, wondering why they didn’t see the creature exit the house, with “Sam” finding traces of blood around the scene, as they investigate an ambulance passes by them and they followed it to investigate, only to come across another crime scene. Asking around they find a man has apparently beat his wife, completely out of nowhere. Dean starts investigating more, and both Winchesters watching are amazed by Dean´s facility to get information, it makes John wonder how his eldest could have flourished if he hadn’t isolate him from everyone.

-Dude, what a psycho- Dean says as he approaches the patrolman guarding the scene- He seemed like such a nice guy, but attacking his wife like that, man, you never truly know your neighbors, am I right?- Dean tells the guy with a concern expression.

-Aint that the truth?- the policeman responds

-And what? Did he taught he could come up with an excuse or something?- Dean asks with the right amount of sarcasm to get the man talking

-Get this, apparently, he was on “driving home”- the man says- when his wife was attacked. And then when he arrived he saw himself in the house- the cop scoffs

-Honestly, the nerve on some people- Dean responds shaking his head, before going back to pass the information to “Sam”

The brothers theorize what could have possibly caused the attacks, getting the conclusion that it was most likely a shapeshifter, masking themselves as the victims´ significant others. “Sam” follows a trail that stops abruptly, but Dean points out that the creature could have easily have gone down the sewers. “Sam” and Dean climb down to the sewers, with Dean finding what appeared to be human goo and skin; and for a moment there is a nauseous feeling going through the room that the Winchesters watching are not quite sure is Dean or theirs at the sight.

The brothers get out of the sewers and Dean tells “Sam” that the best way to defeat the creature is by putting a silver bullet through their heart. “Sam” receives a phone call from his friend, in which he tells him, she knows they lied to her and wants nothing more to do with them. Dean tries to comfort “Sam” but his attempts fall flat

They decide to go down the sewers once more, this time armed, and they manage to find the shapeshifter´s lair. All of the sudden pain explodes in the Winchesters´ left arm as Dean is hit by the shapeshifter, and if the arm isn’t dislocated by the sheer force of the hit, John will eat his boot. The brothers try to chase the creature to no avail, so they decide to split up to look for it. Dean runs into an abandoned alley and suddenly a strong pain erupts once more, this time at the back of the Winchesters´ necks as the screen cuts to black

The screen lights up once more, and this time it shows Dean inside the sewers tied to a metal beam, the pain is excruciating, almost like a hammer to the head and Dean losses conscience once more. He drifts in and out of conscience, until he is finally awoken by a noise, that turns out to be “Sam” equally tied to another metal beam. Both brothers try to free themselves with various degrees of success, as “Sam” explains to Dean that the shapeshifter was becoming him, almost as if he was downloading his memories. Dean manages to free himself and then frees “Sam”, before calling the police hoping to save Becky, which they do, at the cost of Dean now being wanted by the police

The brothers go in search of the Impala and their weapons only to be caught by the police, and “Sam” tells Dean to run and hide, making Dean promise to not go to the sewers alone, promise that Dean promptly breaks.

Dean climbs down the sewers once more, looking for the shapeshifter, finding Becky instead, who tells him that she saw the thing turn into herself before they went away.

Anxiety and protectiveness fill the room as Dean hurries to Becky´s house to save “Sam”, arriving just in time to save him and shooting the creature in the heart, and the scene cuts to black

The most shocking part out of everything to John is the ease in which Dean shoot the creature that was wearing his skin; but then again, considering where they are, perhaps is not shocking at all. As the cases keep piling up, John keeps realizing how close he was to losing his sons, how he put them in danger, but also he realizes that Dean has been tethering the ledge long before he actually took the jump, and he still doesn’t know how to process that information

Sam, on the other hand, is reliving some of the things that weren’t seen on the screen as Dean hadn’t been physically present. He remembers clear at day the words the shapeshifter threw at him, and he chastises himself for never addressing them with his brother. He remembers the creature telling him that Dean was afraid to be left alone, like he had been left alone before, but of course he just brushed it off like it meant nothing, like Dean meant nothing, and now, well now, there is nothing he can do other than dwell on regret,

The screen lights up once more, this time showing the brothers sitting outside a coffee place, with “Sam” trying and failing to find their father, Dean tells him not to worry about him, even if the anxiety that fells the room for a moment makes the sentence fall flat, and John can’t help but feel like the biggest asshole in the planet once more for making his kids worry. Dean tells “Sam” about a case he found where apparently an invisible entity attacked someone so they decided to check it out

The boys arrive at the frat house where the victim lived. There they interview one of the guys, who tells him the victim was attacked while he was on a date, with the preacher´s daughter Lori as well as where they could find her.

Dean and “Sam” drive to the church, entering while the priest is giving his sermon, so they decide to sit at the back. “Sam” elbows Dean to pay his respects, but the Sam on the room can feel the unease that Dean feels at being inside a church. It is still strange to Sam that a place that brought so much comfort to him as a child is the same place that makes his brother feel distressed. John from his seat wonders the same thing, but then again perhaps is an answer he will never get.

Both hunters approach Lori, outside of the church, introducing themselves as new students, and Dean lets “Sam” takes the lead with Lori, with him distracting her father asking him about youth groups. And then there is that feeling again, but this time Sam recognizes what it is and shame fills him, as he finally understands that the thing that Dean feels inside the church is being inadequate and impureness, Sam´s memory takes him back to the early memory of Dean on his knees asking for an answer of above inside Pastor Jim´s old church, and wonder how was he so blind.

John might never draw the same conclusion as Sam, but he draws a conclusion none the less, that is also completely true, remembering the same old memory. John used to send Dean inside the church as a punishment when they were at Jim´s place without a second thought, the cold and empty building that was supposed to bring comfort to his eldest, was to Dean the place where his father sent him when he wasn’t wanted around, and with that conclusion it is little to no wonder that Dean avoids them like the plague  

The scene continues with Dean and “Sam” inside a library theorizing that the story that Lori told “Sam” reminisces the legend of the Hook man, so they proceed to run with said theory by investigating the arrest record of the town. On the records, they find that a few years back a preacher was arrested after killing 13 prostitutes one night with his silver hook, and the disgust that Dean feels at reading those words don’t take his family by surprise. The Winchesters decide to check the place where it happened, that coincides with the place the frat boy was killed. However, once they get there, they are swiftly found by the sheriff, who arrest “Sam” for carrying a shot gun.

Dean arrives at the precinct and goes to talk to the sheriff.

-Good evening, officer- Dean says, with a pleasant tone

-I don’t want to hear it, son- the sheriff said

-Please, I can explain- Dean claims, and the sheriff makes a sign to go ahead- The truth is that… I was taking him to make a pledge and I know it was dumb to take him to the place of a crime scene but c´mon it was just a stupid prank

-And the shotguns? - the officer asks

-Did you check them? - Dean asks- They were full of rock salt, they were for the ghosts and things like that- Dean tells him nonchalantly and Sam and John are amazed with the ease that Dean says the words- C´mon are you really going to have him arrest for a dumb prank? - Dean says in an innocent voice

-Alright, you win- the guy says- I will release him in the morning, but I´d better not found you doing anything stupid- he threatens

-Cross my heart, officer- Dean says as the scene cuts

The next morning, “Sam” is released, but as Dean is recounting how he got his brother out with only a small fine, the brothers see the police officers hurrying out of the building, so they hurry and follow them, arriving at the sorority house where Lori lives, managing to sneak inside without anyone noticing them. The crime scene seems to be completely in par with the legend, writing in the wall included, however Dean notices a symbol at the bottom that they connect with the symbol on the dead preacher´s hook. The hunters, however, hit a wall, when they found the man was buried on an unmark grave, making the situation difficult, but Dean theorizes that the thing the victims have in common is the girl, Lori

They found another set of murders that might be related, theorizing that perhaps the thing behind the murders is a poltergeist latching to the believes of Lori´s dad, and they decide to split with “Sam” going to see Lori and Dean trying to find the unmark grave. Luckily, Dean manages to find the grave of the preacher and starts to dig to put the spirit to rest. Unfortunately, the next day Dean finds “Sam” at the hospital with Lori, after her father was attacked by the Hook Man, with the boys now believing the spirit is drawing his power from his hook instead of his bones and it is connected with Lori. As they investigate some more, they find that the hook was donated to the church and then it was all melted down in different objects.

The boys sneak inside the house in order to burn all the silver objects down, only to get interrupted by Lori, who is praying inside the church, with “Sam” distracting the girl and Dean hurrying to burn all the silver items they collected. However, they appeared to have missed something as Dean hears a commotion and arrives just in time to shoot the Hook Man with rock salt before he attacks “Sam” and Lori. The brothers theorize what they could have missed only for “Sam” to realize that Lori´s chain is a silver cross. Dean hurries over to burn the cross, managing to put the ghost to rest, and the screen cuts to black once more.

All in all, Sam thinks it wasn’t their worst case, however he knows that the worst is yet to come.

AO3

Masterlist

[pastelroyce]

Getting to know y'all

phwoa got tagged by both @mtreebeardiles and @commander-krios for this one ty ty mwah mwah

i'll skip the tags this time but if you see this and want to play just say i tagged you (i'm enough of a nosy bitch to want to see anyway)

Nickname: Roy!

Sign: Scorpio. Tell me if you're surprised. Please.

Last google search: marvelous designer (a program I've been eyeing for a hot minute)

Song stuck in head: Starlight by Muse

Sleep: with the way my job has been currently, I have to pregame bedtime around 6pm so I can hopefully be asleep by 8, so I can wake up at 2.30 am. It usually never works and I spend my off days sleeping for the most part.

Dream job: I've had a lot of different dream jobs, but if I'm going to be honest I would like to never work another day in my life. Sick of it! But I can't, so maybe something in tech idfk.

Wearing: joggers with a hoodie and tshirt

Favorite song: Currently Unholy by Sam Smith and Kim Petras

Favorite instrument: guuh--

Aesthetic: I love that vaporwave shit, that nostalgic synthwave, night ride whatever the fuck you wanna call it. My normal everyday aesthetic is "I'm in my 30s and I don't care if I'm heading to the 711 in the same clothes i slept in"

Favorite authors: Alexis Hall and Michael J Sullivan are the only ones that come to mind, otherwise I really just read fanfic

Favorite color: Pink and all its variants, reds, blues and purples

Favorite animal sounds: Oh it's so hard to choose. A cat's meow, a bird that knows how to talk. Cicadas, mourning doves. Anything that's not the adult man wail my dog made earlier today.

Last song: according to spotify the last song I was listening to was 1000 Violins by The Cliks

Last series: Dragon Age Absolution.

Random: my bf and I met through tindr and the only reason we actually managed it was because he was too dumb to read the bit where we were 90+ miles away from each other, and I was coming off a four year post breakup depression and was so fucking desperate for someone to take me away from my hometown.