#nobody can refuse tearing Dean

[agirlwithdemonblood]

Breaking Free: Chapter 8-Strength in Vulnerability

Pairings: AU! Mechanic Dean x Reader

Chapter Summary: Y/N wakes up in the hospital, and Dean and her navigate how to deal with their overwhelming feelings and the changes to come.

Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse, domestic violence, injuries

Series Masterlist here!! & Main masterlist here!

I woke up silence and darkness, aside from for the monitor's soft beeping. Dean sat beside me, his head resting on the bed, hand holding mine. His tired eyes and tear-stained face showed how worried he'd been while I was asleep. Across the room, John was slumped in a chair, asleep.

Attempting to sit up, I winced as pain shot through my body, the pain killers were not nearly enough. Dean's head shot up at the movement, relief flooding his face as our eyes met.

"Oh, sweetheart, thank god you're awake," he said, his voice trembling with emotion.

I managed a nod, struggling against the discomfort as Dean swiftly moved to help me adjust, pressing the button to dispense more pain relief. "Thank you," I whispered gratefully.

He smiled weakly, sitting beside me and holding my hand. "I'm so sorry this happened to you."

"It's not your fault, Dean." I reassured him. "It's nobody's fault."

"It's my fault." John spoke up from the corner. I turned to him. "It's not your fault, John." I sad gently.

"I shouldn't have asked you to help," John replied, looking guilty.

"It's okay, John. I understand why you did it. I wanted to help you."

John nodded slowly. "You're a good person Y/N. I'm sorry I doubted you."

I smiled, and turned to Dean who still seemed and angry, avoiding John's gaze. I squeezed Dean's hand before turning to John, "Do you mind giving us a moment alone?"

John nodded and patted my arm, before making his leave. My eyes glanced back to Dean, "Dean, you have to forgive John." I urged softly.

Dean looked confused and frustrated. "What do you mean? He shouldn't have involved you in his stupid business. It was selfish and reckless."

I nodded, Yes it was. I also shouldn't have agreed, do you hate me?"

His eyes widened, as his hand squeezed mine, "God, no!"

"Then don't hate him," I pleaded softly. "We all make stupid fucking decisions when we're not thinking clearly. We all have moments of selfishness. John made a mistake, just like I did. He didn't intend for me to get hurt. He couldn't have known because he wasn't sure what to believe."

Dean huffed and buried his face in his hands, struggling to hold back tears. "But look what happened to you. I can't just forgive him."

"He already feels guilty," I said, feeling his struggle. "He blames himself. He didn't want this."

He nodded, as if he was thinking about how he felt about the situation, and dropped his head lower, hand squeezing mine tightly. "I... thought I lost you..." his voice cracked.

"But you didn't lose me," I reassured him gently. "And now, I can talk to the police. We can take care of Andrew."

He nodded, lifting his head slightly. Tears welled in his eyes as he tried to maintain his composure. But I could see through his facade. I pulled him closer, refusing to let him hide his pain from me.

"Dean, it's okay to let it out," I whispered. "I'm here, and I'm okay."

He nodded again, resting his head on my shoulder. A soft sob escaped him, and he held onto me tightly. His grip hurt against my still-healing body, but his emotional pain was worse than any physical ache I'd ever felt. It was heartbreaking to hear him like this, worse than anything Andrew had done to me.

I promised myself I wouldn't let Dean suffer like this again; it was my turn to protect him from the world.

Dean was fast asleep on my chest when the police arrived. I knew I should wake him up for our statements, but I kept thinking about how sad he looked, trying so hard to stay strong for me. He's always protected and saved me, and I forgot how tough this must be for him, so I told them to come back.

Dean woke up the second time the police came, stirring against me. His eyes blinked against the bright lights until he adjusted. When he saw me, relief washed over his face, grateful that I was still there and it wasn't just a dream. The police waited patiently at the doorway, giving us our space, which I appreciated.

Dean smiled at me, then noticed the police and checked the time. "What took them so long?"

I smiled back and gently kissed his head. "I sent them away the first time. You were asleep."

Guilt and hurt filled his face, but I had to reassure him. "Dean, you were exhausted and had a really tough day. Sometimes I need to take care of you too, you know." He smiled softly and remained quiet. I could tell he appreciated it deeply; being cared for wasn't something he was used to.

"Mrs. Y/L/N, Mr. Winchester, are you ready to give your statements?" the police officer asked, and I nodded quickly, inviting them in. They questioned if we preferred to give our statements separately and part of me considered it, especially knowing how Dean might react to hearing the details behind closed doors.

But another part knew he'd always wonder, imagining scenarios to fill in the gaps if he didn't hear the truth. He needed to know. "Together is fine, if Dean's okay with it?"

Dean nodded, squeezing my hand as anxiety rose within him. The officers sat in the chairs beside my bed, their faces were emotionless, and it made me sick. Not because of them personally, but because they were so used to these situations. To them, it was routine. But for me, reporting what happened made my stomach churn.

"Okay, if you could continue from where the incident first started, please," the officer suggested.

I nodded and held Dean's hand tightly in my lap. I took a deep breath, collecting my thoughts before speaking. Starting with the conversation with John and how it led to meeting Andrew, I recounted asking John to check on me, agreeing to meet Andrew at the house, and my arrival there. These were the straightforward details, just the facts.

"Now, if you could continue to where the incident first started," the officer pressed gently.

I felt Dean's hand tense in mine. I could see he was nervous, dreading what he might hear next. Regardless, I knew I had to speak my truth.

""So we started talking and he started insulting Dean and I, saying he wanted me back with him. I told him it wasn't happening. I said I was happy with Dean and would never go back. He then told me to follow him upstairs to get the rest of my stuff from when I lived there. When we got to the top of the stairs, he stopped me and said he'd only agree to the segment if I got back with him. I said no, tried to walk away, but he grabbed my arm and then moved his hand to my throat…"

I felt Dean cringe beside me, his grip tightening on my hand. He looked uncomfortable, knowing I hadn't even reached the worst part of what happened yet.

"He started to choke me, and I panicked. I ended up kicking him in the groin and running towards the stairs," I recounted. Dean's face lit up with pride at that detail, and I couldn't help but stifle a laugh.

"When I reached the stairs..." I paused, turning to look at Dean. "Babe, are you sure you want to be here for this?"

He smiled sadly and nodded. "I think I need to be."

I nodded, intertwining my fingers with Dean's and then focusing on the police officers.

"Um, when I got to the stairs, I felt a hard push on my back and I flew down them. I heard bones crack, and I think I hit my head pretty hard on the railing. When I looked up toward the staircase, Andrew was standing at the top, smiling at me."

Dean winced and turned away, tears welling in his eyes.

The police officer cleared his throat and leaned forward. "So, after he came down the stairs, what happened next?"

"I asked Andrew to take me to the hospital, I begged him to, but he refused. He said he wanted to keep me there and take care of me himself because he was afraid I'd tell someone he pushed me. He kept me in bed; I wasn't tied down, but my legs hurt too much to move. He was dressing my wounds when he got a call and had to leave for an interview in town, leaving me alone at home. I tried to crawl downstairs, but the pain was unbearable. That's when Dean came in and rescued me."

I glanced at Dean, who was visibly upset. He gripped my hand tightly, tears welling in his eyes. His jaw was clenched so tightly it looked like he might break a tooth. He was trying to stay strong for me and for the police officers, but it was clear he was struggling to hear about what happened. It wasn't just because it was me; he had never witnessed a situation like this before.

I turned to the officers, who looked at Dean with sympathy more than anything else, their expressions showing concern.

"So that's my statement. I know you need to interview Dean, but could you give us some time before you speak with him?" I asked the officers. They nodded understandingly, got up, and closed the door behind them, giving Dean and me some much-needed privacy.

I placed my hand on his back, trying to comfort him. Dean turned his head away, sniffing as he tried to hold back tears.

"Dean, come here," I whispered softly.

He cleared his throat and moved to lie down with his head in the crook of my neck, his arms wrapping tightly around my waist. "I-I'm sorry..." his voice cracked with emotion.

I held him close, rubbing his back gently. "Don't apologize," I reassured him.

"You're supposed to be the one I'm taking care of, not the other way around," Dean murmured, his voice filled with guilt.

"Dean, look at me," I urged gently.

He shook his head, but I insisted, gently moving his hand away from his face and lifting his chin, meeting his tear-filled eyes. "Dean, I'm okay. Really, I am. I know you feel guilty and this was a big thing, but I'm okay because of you. It's okay to be upset, it's okay to cry about what happened. It was scary, it was terrifying. I couldn't imagine going through this without you. So please, if you need to let it out, do it. I've got you."

Dean nodded, holding me tightly against him, a sigh of relief escaping him. "Thank you."

"Of course," I whispered, comforting him as he embraced me.

He lifted his head and gazed into my eyes, a sad smile playing on his lips. "Enough about taking care of me though. Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

"Actually, to be honest, I'm in quite a bit of pain and could really use some medication," I admitted.

His expression fell, concern flashing across his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?"

I giggled softly and shrugged. "Because I care about you. I worry about your well-being."

He smiled gently and shook his head. "You're ridiculous. That's one of the reasons why I love you."

I smirked as Dean got up and pressed the nurse's button. Soon, a nurse entered with another to check on my injuries. Thankfully, the damage wasn't too severe. One of my legs was broken, and the other badly bruised, but I could manage to stand on it. My head was okay, although the doctor warned me about potential headaches and dizziness for a while. They recommend bedrest, but I knew I couldn't do that, no matter how much Dean insisted I do so.

After the doctor checked me over and confirmed I was stable, I was finally discharged from the hospital, ready to go home.

The entire journey home was exhausting.

I had to get used to Dean helping me into the car, carrying me around, and setting up my wheel chair at home-it was a lot, especially on the first day.

Even though he never once complained, and it wasn't my fault my leg was broken and I was stuck in a wheelchair, I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. I worried that needing so much help would wear Dean down over time.

It hadn't been long since Dean and I moved in together, and now I relied on him for everyday tasks like getting dressed and moving around the house. It felt like a nightmare to me. Dean sensed something was wrong. He tried to credit it to the traumatic event we went through and my exhaustion, but he knew there was more to it.

He could see it in my expression when he helped me up the stairs or guided me back into the chair. He noticed my struggle as I awkwardly navigated the hallways in the wheelchair, unfamiliar with relying on it. He wanted to make me feel better, but he also understood my hesitation to depend on him for even the smallest things, despite his willingness to help.

That's why Dean took it slow, allowing me to ask for help when needed or assisting without making me feel babied. He wanted to protect me because he understood that after what happened, I felt helpless and worthless.

His goal was to show me the opposite—to prove that I was strong and capable. Dean aimed to help give my power back.

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Chapter 9 coming soon stay tuned!

Like, comment, and reblog, feedback is my fuel 💕

[saccharine-dean]

I've been having ATSV brainrot (particularly Gwen-centric) as of late so hear me out: Spider-Man x SPN

16-year old, junior-in-high-school sam winchester as spider-man.

his mother died when he was a baby, and his father only very recently. he lives alone with dean, who got custody of him after their father's death. even though this only happened a couple years ago, really, dean has been raising sam all their lives.

sam likes home fine enough. dean isn't too bad as a parent for a 20-year old- he has a job at the local garage, makes sure sam is fed, and for the most part he doesn't act like dad.

it's just that he can be a bit overprotective. sam gets it, but it's frustrating.. and it's the reason he refuses to tell dean about his secret identity. but it's okay- dean, for his part, is ironically a pretty big fan of spider-man. sam knows he tries to hide it, but it's obvious- dean thinks the mystery vigilante in their city is cool.

that is, until one day:

sam is way, way in over his head with this one. unaware of the existence of the multiverse (though he has theories) and being the only superhero in his town, he has nobody to call for backup. the villain nearly lands a fatal blow on him way too many times for comfort, and he's losing stamina fast. a crowd of people has gathered to watch, all cheering him on from the sidelines.

enter castiel: dean's boyfriend of 2 years, a really stand up guy. he's a little awkward and sometimes he can be just as protective as dean is, but for what it's worth, sam loves him like a brother. it's just... he's also approaching the street where the fight is taking place. blissfully unaware, he holds a bouquet of flowers in his hands, walking the last couple blocks to surprise dean at work.

it all happens so fast: one minute sam is dodging another shot from the villain, the next the projectile is ricocheting off of a metal awning, and BAM- it hits castiel in the chest, and time seems to freeze.

sam screams.

he doesn't notice much of anybody else after that- the villain retreats once sam is crumpled on the ground next to castiel, or at least he thinks so. sirens blare all around him, ten times louder than they were before, and sam can't help himself from putting his head to castiel's chest and sobbing.

and then he hears the one voice he dreads the most at this moment:

"Cas?"

sam looks up, deer in the headlights, and sees his brother in what may very well be the worst shock of his life.

"No. No, Cas, no-"

dean shoves him out of the way and lifts castiel up in his arms, and as he's frantically swearing and checking for a pulse, sam does the only thing he can think of to do, and he disappears.

even though dean comes home past 3:00 that night, sam is still up, sobbing into his pillow. assuming he heard the news from the TV, dean wraps him in a fierce hug and mumbles comfort into his shoulder through his own tears, promising to sam that he'll catch the son of a bitch who let castiel die.

it's been maybe four months since then, and sam doesn't know how much more he can take of this.

dean's animosity towards spider-man is now one of the most transparent things about him. sam knows he shouldn't take it to heart, shouldn't believe that dean would think these things about him if he knew, but hell if he isn't tired of being called a monster, a coward, a freak.

there's another large scale fight downtown that nearly goes awry, but there's these new people that appeared from some kind of portal and for once he has *help,* some actual allies to save the day with him, and suddenly he feels much lighter, much easier. sam manages to save them at the last minute, and as he's standing there catching his breath he hears his brother's voice break the cold air:

"Found you, you eight-eyed bastard."

sam had been telling dean as himself for weeks not to stake out every crime scene in new york, that he could get himself hurt or worse, and every time dean gave the same answer- "so?"

and so now, standing there shaking from the adrenaline and the wind and the blood, it's not that sam is surprised necessarily- it's just... god, he is so, so, tired.

"Please," Sam begs him when he turns and sees the gun pointed at his head. "I- Whatever you think I did-"

"You're the reason the love of my life is dead," Dean hisses, and even after all this time, it still makes Sam freeze. "How about that, you son of a bitch?"

"It wasn't me!" Sam shouts, and his voice breaks at the inclination. "It was a mistake. I didn't... I didn't kill Castiel."

Dean freezes.

"What did you just say?"

and so four months after castiel's death, eighteen months after he became spider-man, sam finally does it- he reaches up and pulls off his mask.

it's done.

"Sam?"

dean's voice is broken beyond repair, and sam is sure he looks the same way.

"I didn't do it," he whispers.

but dean doesn't respond. he just stands, gun still raised and shaking between his fingers as he stares at sam with the look of utmost betrayal.

sam feels a phantom tap on his shoulder, looks up and sees the woman from earlier. he thinks he heard the older man call her missouri?

she raises an eyebrow and nods to the newly opened portal, and sam's eyes widen as he realizes she wants him to go with them.

he spares a glance back at dean, who immediately notices his thought process and makes to run at them, but the woman stops him in his tracks with some kind of trap. dean is screaming sam's name and banging against the barrier, yelling that he better not leave, or... well, who knows. sam doesn't hear it. all his focus is oriented on the glowing web of orange and red and green in front of him, offering a new beginning, a better life.

castiel once told him that growing up is hard- you're thrust into the world without any knowledge of who you are or what you're supposed to be, and that feeling of being utterly lost can be challenging, but not to worry- everybody finds their place eventually. deep down in the gaps between the turmoil pooling in his gut, sam thinks that maybe, just maybe, this might be it.

he turns his back to dean and jumps.

[aeschylia]

OC INTRODUCTION

NAME || FANDOM || FIC NAME

ELIAS GREY || CW THE FLASH || MENDACIOUS

AGE ᝰ 23

PRNS ᝰ he/him/his

SEX ᝰ male

ORIENTATION ᝰ gay

LOVE INTEREST ᝰ jaime morgan

FACE CLAIM ᝰ mark mckenna

PREMISE ᝰ elias grey is a failure of a quantum physicist, living out of a decrepit garage and lying to everyone who has the misfortune of knowing him (it’s really just cisco). but after the particle accelerator explodes, he finds that there’s a grander fate set out for him, one wreathed in — you guessed it — even more deception. in other words: the patricidal son of a criminal joins up with a speedster from the future to save barry allen, kill the unkillable, and save the galaxy. sounds like a hero’s origin story, right? wrong. elias grey is no hero, no matter how badly he wants to be.

IN-WORLD OCS ᝰ marcus durand (damson idris), jaime morgan (mike faist), abigail grey (krysten ritter)

KRIE ORTIS || STAR WARS || TEMPEST RISING

AGE ᝰ 17

PRNS ᝰ she/her/hers

SEX ᝰ female

ORIENTATION ᝰ lesbian

LOVE INTEREST ᝰ none

FACE CLAIM ᝰ whitney peak

PREMISE ᝰ the jedi order’s final archivist is well-known for her kindness and staunch pacifism. the council’s got nothing to give a girl who was two minutes away from being reassigned to the educorps. but a rising tide lifts all ships, and a war is on, which leaves krie ortis exposed to the darkness of the galaxy. she soon finds she’s well-suited to it, and perhaps she always has been. in truth, krie ortis is not what she says she is, and the visions yoda’s been having about her future are not so heroic after all.

CAZ SOLUS || STAR WARS || WAYFARER

AGE ᝰ 20

PRNS ᝰ he/him/his

SEX ᝰ male

ORIENTATION ᝰ ace-aro

LOVE INTEREST ᝰ none

FACE CLAIM ᝰ louis hofmann

PREMISE ᝰ some things should just stay dead. the nomadic matukai order’s greatest secret comes in the form of one caz solus, with a cheerful disposition and a busted-up cleaning droid assigned to do it’s job, and clean up his messes. he’s got a sordid past that nobody can really remember, least of all him, and his crossing paths with the jedi order in the midst of the clone wars only spells trouble and absolute annihilation for everyone in sight. after all, the matukai order’s greatest secret is one that could tear the galaxy to shreds, and leave planets more barren than the dead edges of wild space.

TOBI YAMAKO || MY HERO ACADEMIA + VIGILANTES || 608

AGE ᝰ 16

PRNS ᝰ he/him/his

SEX ᝰ male

ORIENTATION ᝰ straight

LOVE INTEREST ᝰ none

FACE CLAIM ᝰ ryusei yokohama

PREMISE ᝰ you know the hero system is fucked when japan’s best vigilante is only 16 years old. tobi yamako’s been dabbling in the criminal underworld since he was nine, after a battle between a hero and a villain devastated his apartment and nearly killed his mother. with a uncommon quirk and a scathing view on hero society as a whole, he’s forcibly recruited to yuuei by hawks to save him from a lesser fate at the hands of the hpsc. what the world at large doesn’t know is that tobi’s roots run deeper thank anyone could possibly fathom.

ERIN “FITZ” MOORE || SUPERNATURAL || NON OMNIS MORIAR

AGE ᝰ 25

PRNS ᝰ she/her/hers

SEX ᝰ female

ORIENTATION ᝰ bisexual

LOVE INTEREST ᝰ dean winchester

FACE CLAIM ᝰ emmy rossum

PREMISE ᝰ john winchester’s last call before disappearing wasn’t to his sons, but to his alienated brother-in-arms, louis callahan. but callahan didn’t receive it; his protege did. and after a gruesome, unspoken altercation that put callahan out of commission, fitz can only do what she thinks her mentor would want, and protect the winchester brothers. but it turns out that there’s a cesspool of bad blood between callahan and the winchester family, and dean has no love lost for the strange girl who strongarms her way into his brotherly reunion and refuses to leave for anything short of john winchester’s safe return.

JOSEPHINE FOWLER || PRISON BREAK || SCHEMA

AGE ᝰ 30

PRNS ᝰ she/her/hers

SEX ᝰ female

ORIENTATION ᝰ straight

LOVE INTEREST ᝰ michael scofield

FACE CLAIM ᝰ adria arjona

PREMISE ᝰ fox river state penitentiary isn’t the hellhole everyone thinks it is, not since josephine fowler was hired as the newest inmate program coordinator. deadset on giving these criminals a chance at redemption and a new life on the outside, she’s gained a reputation in the prison that michael scofield scarcely predicted and can scarcely avoid in his escape plan, since his brother is apparently her number one defender. but there’s more to her than just the good samaritan act she puts on, and her interest in michael is far from romantic — in fact, it’s downright murderous.

GAEL GRIFFINS || ARROW || UNDERDOG

AGE ᝰ 27

PRNS ᝰ she/her/hers

SEX ᝰ female

ORIENTATION ᝰ bisexual

LOVE INTEREST ᝰ oliver queen

FACE CLAIM ᝰ grace van patten

PREMISE ᝰ gael griffins is a child of the glades, raised on the constant smell of smoke and swelling shrieks of police sirens. her hands are never free of blood, either by the clinic she runs or her nighttime activities as the vigilante asclepius, predating the arrow in her journey to clean up the streets of her city. but oliver queen’s unexpected return brings some equally unexpected problems, especially when her history with the merlyn family turns sour, and her relationship with oliver queen gets more complicated than it ever rightfully should be.

KAZUE DOJIMA || MY HERO ACADEMIA || APHELION

AGE ᝰ 15

PRNS ᝰ she/her/hers

SEX ᝰ amab, mtf

ORIENTATION ᝰ straight

FACE CLAIM ᝰ tao tsushiya

PREMISE ᝰ kazue dojima helps run a comic store in musutafu prefecture. a childhood friend of katsuki and izuku, she drifted away after a mysterious incident five years ago that she refuses to talk about to anyone. she’s not interested in becoming a hero. in fact, her quirk is best used in the medical field, and she’s content to become a doctor and help her cop brother out on a few cases. but her brother suddenly goes missing, and a singular heroic act on her end draws the attention of yuuei academy. suddenly, everything is imploding around her, and the only way out is backwards — the only direction she doesn’t want to go.

JUN OKUHARA || JUJUTSU KAISEN || AD INFINITUM

AGE ᝰ 15

PRNS ᝰ they/them/theirs

SEX ᝰ afab, gnc

ORIENTATION ᝰ unlabeled

FACE CLAIM ᝰ jeon jung-seo*

i’m aware that jung-seo is korean. jun is wasian. working on finding a better face-claim…

PREMISE ᝰ yuji itadori is dead, and with him died the one chance of destroying sukuna once and for all. in a last-ditch effort to kill the king of curses in the most morally abhorrent of ways, the higher-ups of jujutsu high contact one of their ex-sorcerers who fled to america. but he’s down for the count. his kid, however, isn’t. jun shows up on the doorstep less than a week later, thinking they’re in for the time of their life, getting to hone their cursed techniques ever since their dad forbid the topic years ago. but that’s not the case. jun has one directive: either find a way to clone yuji itadori, or pay for their father’s mistakes.

[sp00nful0fsuga]

okay since I'm not a fanfic writing guy- lemme tell y'all about my evil hank au that i wish I could write but probably won't. Questions in my ask box are appreciated to help me flesh out the au and maybe I'll draw the responses? But in short:

Takes place after S7.

Hank decides he doesn't want to go home to a family that doesn't love him after the hospital stay and runs away. He has thought about leaving before because of his father's lack of care for him. He's tired of being #2, being the sacrifice. The point of breaking was seeing that neither his girlfriend (side headcannon: hank being obsessed with girls is because he just wants anyone ever to show him affection. Sirena was no different.) and even worse his brother- the one person he thought he could trust- didn't love him either. Everyone loved Dean. Nobody loved Hank.

The Monarch captures him as a lure for Dr. Venture but Hank tells them he won't come. He doesn't care. He should have captured Dean. He breaks down crying and Sheila comforts him while The Monarch awkwardly goes to make some hot cocoa. Sheila tells Hank he can stay with them for a little bit but then he has to go home.

He never does go home. The first time Sheila told him to leave, Hank came back within the hour crying. He told her he could never go home again. He felt cared for with The Monarch and Sheila, perhaps even loved. They always made sure he was fed and comfortable, and Sheila even listened to his problems just about every night. One night, Sheila suggested Hank consider becoming a supervillain. It might make him feel better. Of course he couldn't arch his father, he belonged to The Monarch. But he could arch Dean. Besides, it was Dean's fault wasn't it?

Hank isn't officially registered as a villain under the guild, but Sheila keeps him out of trouble. The first time he arched he was blinded by anger and jealousy and went all out trying to be intimidating (but not actually hurting anyone). Brock eventually has enough and goes out to talk to him. Hank holds back tears and leaves. Dean is shocked and upset. Rusty is disappointed.

Hank returns home to his new parents. He's dropped the Venture name. He is only Hank now. And Hank couldnt even arch his brother right. Sheila consoles him again and tells him he'll get better over time. She gives him a little monarch pin that he now wears all the time on his Batman sweater.

Eventually Hank gets the hang of it. He and Dean fall into a routine. Hank will swing his bat close enough to Dean to make it look like its gonna hit him. Dean will dodge out of the way just in time. Brock refuses to step in. He can't bring himself to hurt Hank. Every time, Hank leaves disappointed in himself for still being too attached to hurt Dean. Every time, Dean goes to bed crying wondering what he could ever do to make Hank love him again. He misses his brother.

Hank is tired. He misses his brother, too. Maybe if Rusty was out of the picture, he could learn to forgive Dean. The Monarch promises if Hank can capture Dean to lure Rusty, he'll take care of it. Hank succeeds by tricking Dean to come talk things out with him. Hank feels bad, but tells himself its necessary. When Rusty does arrive he has Brock with him. He tells Brock to get Dean back while he distracts the Monarch, even if he has to kill him. Brock refuses.

Hank is still shook hearing this. He's heard his father offhandly tell someone to kill him over Dean before. But the absolute hatred in his father's voice this time hurt worse. Hank slumps to the floor, making it easy for Brock to take back Dean.

"I hate you, Henry. You've changed and I hate the person you've become."

This was the last thing that came from Dean's mouth before he left, leaving Hank feeling more alone and broken than he ever had in his life.

Nothing Sheila or the Monarch say could get Hank out of his room for days. What was the point anymore. Nothing has changed. In fact, its even worse. Sheila feels bad and suggests taking a break.

Dean does not hate Hank. In fact, quite the opposite. He loves his brother so much and can hardly live with himself seeing him like this. He regrets what he said to him. He regrets every little thing he has every done to Hank. He wants him back, and at this point he isn't sure if that will ever happen.

He hates his father. He goes on constantly about how angry he is with Hank. How much he wishes Hank would have just been more like Dean. Dean doesn't think he deserves to be talked about so highly.

Hank decides to do one last arch. He would tell Dean everything and then leave. To where? He didn't know.

Everything was going fine. Dean was dogging his swings like he always did. Hank's swings became more and more aggressive as he talked to Dean. He told him everything. He took all the love from everyone Hank ever cared about. By the end Hank's eyes were clouding with tears.

Dean shouts at Hank. He loves him. He never wanted this to happen. He never wanted Hank to feel like this.

Hank knew it was a lie.

He swung. Hard.

He heard a thump.

After wiping the tears from his eyes, he could finally see clearly. In front of him was Dean, laying in a pool of blood coming from his head.

He wasn't moving.

Hank broke down. He called for Brock.

As soon as he saw Brock coming, he ran home.

Hank didn't sleep that night.

The next day there was a knock at the door. Brock came to tell Hank that Dean was actually alive and in a coma, but he wasn't sure if he'd stay like that. Hank refused to see him the first day. He couldn't stand the guilt.

Hank went the next day alone. He needed to at least apologize. By the time he got there he realized he wouldn't be leaving. Not until Dean woke up.

Hank spent the next few days at the hospital feeling miserable and talking to Dean and breaking down.

I don't have much fleshed out for when Dean does wake up. But they definitely make up dw.

Ummm I will accept and encourage questions in my ask box it will help me develope things !!!

[hell-sam]

Nick's eyes opened slowly, his expression remaining blank but his lips came together to form a thin line as he shook his head ever so slightly. He didn't care. He was shot, smote, mauled, strangled to death, and committed his own suicide enough times for death to feel like taking a couple pills for his insomnia before passing out for a good thirteen hours. She could do it. Kill him. Leave him dead. Have Lucifer return, and take care of her for good. One less annoying human on this earth, thinking they can do whatever the fuck they wanted with his Lord's property.

Yet he saw the distress in Sam's eyes when she lifted the pistol again. Lidded eyes couldn't quite understand why Sam kept fretting over this supposed nobody of a human, why he was fretting over him as well, but it was a mere fact. A fact he had to keep in mind when interacting with the Winchester and not because he minded the tears and breakdowns that would follow - no he'd be possessed by Lucifer by then, lulled into a peaceful blanket of power and mercy where nothing could hurt him. Where Sam's cries couldn't reach or bother him. The high pitched noises nothing agitating but instead like the singing of birds outside his window early in the morning.

No, he was only acting out in Sam's defence to defuse the situation because he kept in mind yet another important detail. Whether or not Lucifer liked chewing his toy up and spitting him back out in a drool-drenched mess, incoherent and broken in both body and mind... it was Lucifer's choice. Sam belonged to their Dark Prince, their Satanic Majesty, he could do with them as he wished but humans and demons - no. No, they had no fucking right to hurt what belonged to him.

"Are you daft, or dim, lady? He just said that hurting me would get you dragged by those pretty blonde hairs back to the depths of Hell by Satan fucking himself. He's not looking out for me here." Nick retorted.

And Sam panicked. Because while the older man wasn't wrong, he sure had a way with his words. A way that usually got people pissed even further which made them extra trigger happy. Sam turned his body around, hiding Nick behind his back as he faced Bela with pleading eyes.

"I'm not thinking straight?" Sam chuckled bitterly, casting his eyes aside for a brief moment before snapping them back to Bela's. "Look, I'm entirely... I'm not blind to how any of this looks, okay?" He tried again, voice low and slow. Sam tries to be sympathetic and reach out to Bela, but he refused to leave Nick behind. She'd have to shoot them both, or drag Dean all the way over here. But Dean would tell her nothing more than she already knew. 'Sammy is haunted by the Devil and he developed feelings for his psycho vessel. And that damn thing's stronger than he looks'.

"Please... Bela, you're -" Sam was getting upset again, raising his voice a bit which was uncharacteristic to him. "You're asking me to abandon what I almost ended up as, or watch myself get shot for being too broken for your damn standards. Dean never trusts me, the angels never trusted me, my own damn father never trusted me, I'm tired, of being treated that way. I'm tired of watching others being treated this way for being fricking victims! If you want answers I'll give them to you, all of them, but I have conditions of my own!" He gasped, parting his lips in an O shape to try and gulp in some air. The tears, too returned to trail down his cheeks. He hated how frail he'd become.

Her head cocks to the side when Sam mentions Dean knowing about this. A fight over this heavily sounds like the eldest Winchester brother, but for them to part ways? It didn't sound right- none of this did- but hell, how many years had it been since she'd spoke to either one of them- or seen them. For all she knew, they didn't know she'd gotten out of Hell, and she'd only heard whispers and stories about them through the grapevine of hunters. Still...something terribly fucked up had to spring up for this mess to come about....and the Devil himself sounds like a pretty good catalyst.

Eyes flash to the man as he speaks, this "Nick" person and her fingers still ached to put a bullet into his skull. Perhaps she should have just ignored this crossroads deal in the first place- all things considered now. "Sam...you understand why I can't do that, right? I can't let him into my car. Anything to do with the Devil...Sam....come on now."

She sucks in a slow breath and shakes her head, her gun once again pointing at Nick and she gives a slight nod to Sam. "I'm done trying to understand this out here, but you need to come with me right now, and if you don't I'm going to pull the trigger. I want to hear about this from Dean- not you and surely not him. You're not....you're not thinking straight. I'm not going to play nice, not for a man trying to summon the Devil. It won't happen...so get over here...or I'll shoot."

[cas-kingdom]

Supernatural Masterpost

Main Masterpost

one shots

A Brother Like No Other (Sam x Dean) - Sam sometimes forgets that he’s not the older brother.

Toast (Sam x Dean x Castiel) - Castiel makes toast for the first time.

My Humans (Sam x Dean x Castiel) - Dean sticks post-it notes to his brother’s back, and Cas is one confused angel.

Louder Than Thunder (John x reader) - John helps you overcome your fear of thunder.

Sunset (John x reader) - You and John have a picnic and watch the sun set.

Tears (John x reader) - You talk to your dad before he leaves to go on a hunt.

A Father’s Love (John x reader) - “No man in this world can love a girl more than her father.” You learn this after having a pretty horrible argument with Dean.

Ladybird (Gabriel x reader) - Gabriel. A brother, a protector, a survivor. And most importantly, your best friend.

Into Battle (Gabriel x reader) - You’re about to enter the biggest battle you’ll ever face. A snowball fight.

A Light in the Dark (Dean x Crowley x reader) - Part of being an older brother means chasing away the nightmares. That’s what Sam and Dean’s been doing since you were a little girl. Now, it’s Crowley’s turn.

All That Matters (Sam x Dean x reader) - You lose against Dean in a wrestling match. What could get worse than that?

Get Some Sleep (Castiel x reader) - When you refuse to go to sleep, it takes a certain angel to remind you who’s the boss.

To Annoy an Angel (Castiel x reader) - There’s no better way to pass the time than annoying Cas. Cas, on the other hand, has a different opinion on the matter.

Fade Into You (Castiel x reader) - Sometimes, you just need a hug, and Cas is all too happy to oblige.

Bring Him Back (Gabriel x reader) - Gabe was here, but he wasn’t… here. Not your Gabe, anyway. But don’t worry, you’d bring him back.

Hey Brother (Dean x reader) - You were meant to be home six hours ago. Dean’s not happy. At all. Or: Even when you’re alone, your brother is always there.

Living (Sam x Dean x Castiel x reader) - Cas walks in on you and Dean sliding along the hallway in socks. It’s all fun and games until someone breaks their ankle.

Nobody Knew (Lucifer x reader) - People forget that the Devil was once an Angel.

Gimme a Kiss (Crowley x reader) - Crowley wants a good night kiss, and he’s not letting you leave without one.

I’ve Got You (Crowley x reader) - You’re injured, and the first person you go to is Crowley.

About a Dog (Sam x Dean x Castiel x reader) - Even dead, Gabriel still finds ways to make you happy.

Learning to Love (Sam x Dean x Castiel x Jack x reader) - A nephilim asks an angel for dating advice. What could go wrong?

Archangels and Austerity (Gabriel x reader) - After Jack asks you out on a date, Gabriel turns up… and he’s not happy.

Toro (Dean x reader) - He looked like a bull about to charge. And what do you do when you’re faced with a bull? You run.

A Memory (John x reader) - Jack has disappeared, you haven’t heard from Cas in a while, and you’re starting to miss how things used to be.

Taken (Sam x Dean x Castiel x Jack x reader) - The blood of a virgin is needed in many a spell, and Sam and Dean have become accustomed to turning to you. However, after one particular night, they’re about to find out they’re going to have to turn to someone else from now on. And it can’t be Jack.

Real (Dean x reader) - While Michael’s possessing Dean, he says things to you that make you think.

Soldier (Gabriel x reader) - Gabriel finds out you’ve been keeping something from him, and he’s not impressed.

Locked In (Sam x Dean x Castiel x reader) - Jack’s locked in the box, and you’re only just finding out.

A Little Unsteady (Jared Padalecki x reader) - You have to get a cavity filled, and it’s your first one. Naturally, you’re quite nervous, and who better to help calm those nerves than Jared Padalecki?

drabbles

John x reader (“I was just worried.”)

John x reader (“You can’t give up something you haven’t even started.”)

John x reader (“Remind me never to play this damn game with you again!”)

Dean x John x reader (“Are you really reading right now?”)

John x OC (“I shouldn’t have to tell you how dangerous that was!”)

John x OC (“You did this to get my attention and now you fully have it. Let’s hear it.”)

Gabriel x reader (“I don’t care when you go to bed, but do you have to wake me up in the middle of the night with your loud music?”)

Chuck x reader (“You forgot to say the Magic Words.”)

Sam x Dean x reader (“What are you running from?”)

Dean x reader (“Give them back.”)

Chuck x reader (“Don’t make me come get you.”)

Sam x reader (“You don’t scare me.”)

Gabriel x reader (“Move over!”)

Dean x Ben x reader (“Seriously, have you seen how old he’s gotten?”)

Castiel x reader (“That’s against the rules.”)

Crowley x reader (“When am I going to join your little game? Hm. Never.”)

Bobby x reader (“Could you stop throwin’ that damn ball against the house?”)

Gabriel x Chuck x reader (“Wanna build a tree fort?”)

Dean x reader (“Sorry, I can’t help you.”)

Dean x reader (“How long will this take?”)

Castiel x reader (“Oh? You want me to tickle you that bad?”)

Gabriel x Chuck x reader (“Now, let me watch the freaking movie in peace!”)

Dean x Sam (“You’re okay, Sammy.”)

Dean x reader (“I love you.”)

Dean x reader (”Don’t tell Sam?”)

[scones-and-texting-and-murder]

Bookends

(This story was originally written for and published in the DeanCas Anthology back in 2018. )

Word Count: 2223 Rating: General ao3 link

Cas pulls as close to the door as he can, checking the rearview mirror to make sure he isn’t blocking traffic as he waits for Dean to get out of the car. Before heading inside, Dean ducks his head back in to smile at him. “I’ll get us some coffee.”

Instead of driving away, Cas stays there, watching until Dean pulls open the diner door. Leaning heavily on his cane, he shuffles more than walks, his bow-legged gait made stiff by the arthritis that wracks his joints. Cas waits until he’s safely inside, then pulls past the open handicapped space Dean stubbornly refuses to use, and finds an empty parking spot.

Cas’s car is boxy and utilitarian, and Dean often proclaims that he wouldn’t be caught dead behind the wheel of something so ugly. Cas plays along because giving up driving had been Dean’s toughest concession to age, but as his vision deteriorated and his reflexes slowed, it had become an unavoidable sacrifice. With replacement parts for the Impala harder and harder to come by, Dean had finally agreed to keep her stored safely away in their garage. Cas knew it pained him to see her shrouded under a tarp, her motor idle and useless, but Dean would rather enshrine her in pristine condition than risk one more run-in with a light pole or curb.

With his ugly car parked, Cas crosses the lot to join Dean inside. While he’s aged as well, aged to the point that nobody questions the two of them together, he’s been spared many of the maladies that Dean’s combat-wrecked body has endured, and he moves with relative ease. The best they can figure is that the grace he’d had on and off over the years left his body with a certain resilience to the passage of time. Cas can’t cure Dean as he once could, can’t ease the aches or slow the aging process, but he can use his own comparatively good health and mobility to take care of him.

Inside, Cas navigates past the hostess stand to find Dean at their usual booth, chatting with their usual waitress. The two of them go to this diner religiously each Sunday morning, where the pews are scuffed burgundy vinyl booths and the altar is the breakfast buffet with the generous senior discount. As always, Dean has maneuvered himself across the bench seat to make room for Cas to sit beside him. His cane rests against the wall in easy reach, the simple carved wooden handle belying the fact that the base unscrews to reveal a bayonet-like tip. It’s never been wielded as a weapon (although Dean uses it, still sheathed, to poke at aggressive pigeons who muscle in around their favorite park bench), but that potential made it “badass” enough to overcome Dean’s resistance to using it.

To Sam’s everlasting chagrin, Dean has kept all of his hair, and it’s turned a stunning silver. The crinkles around his eyes have deepened, meeting the roadmap of lines that cross his face. His shoulders are stooped, his joints are stiff, and Cas thinks he’s never been more beautiful. After so many seemingly certain ends, so many years assuming Dean would die young and bloodied, the fact that he’s living out a full, lengthy life is an unparallelled blessing. Cas marvels at the gift of days that have unfolded into decades, granting them time he never dreamed they’d have together here on earth.

As Cas settles into the booth, he smiles and greets their waitress.

“Two for the buffet?” she confirms as she pours their coffee. Cas doesn’t even have to check to know that she’ll leave Dean’s at a little more than half-full so he can lift it without the tremor in his hands sloshing it over the brim.

They drink their coffee quietly, simply enjoying the ritual of being here. Dean peers at the laminated card that lists the specials, even though he never orders off the menu.

“Shall I?” When Dean nods, Cas gets to his feet. “Any requests?”

“You know what I like,” Dean says, leaning over to swat at Cas’s butt.

Picking up two plates from the warmer, Cas slides them along the metal counter, filling them in tandem as he traverses the buffet. Pancakes are too difficult for Dean to get on a fork, but the crisp waffles are good. Bacon he can pick up and eat, and Cas uses the tongs to place precisely two strips on his plate. If Dean wants more, he can get up and get it himself.

Dean can argue with Cas’s choices, but they’d had a hell of a scare a few years back. Cas will never forget the look on Dean’s face when their phone rang in the middle of the night, alerting them that Sam had been taken to the hospital in an ambulance. They’d rushed there themselves, Cas driving in silence, knowing that nothing short of seeing Sam with his own two eyes could reassure Dean. Thankfully, it had been a mild heart attack and, after spending a few days in the hospital, the discharge plan called for cardiac rehab and an appointment with a nutritionist. With Sam’s release imminent, Dean had relaxed enough to crow at the irony. “Don’t either of you try to tell me what to eat ever again. Mr. Organic Produce is the one lying in the hospital bed while my pork-rind-fueled ticker is going strong.”

Still pale, Sam’s brow furrowed with resignation. “I’m beginning to think you can’t die.”

Dean jabbed a finger in his direction. “You don’t get to go first. We have a deal.”

“Yes, sir.” Sam lifted the hand without the IV in a mock salute.

“That’s more like it,” Dean said. “Speaking of which, I need a snack.”

Cas helped him up and they walked to the elevator that would take them to the cafeteria. As they waited for it to arrive, Dean pulled Cas into a hug. Cas left a hand on his shoulder when they stepped apart again. “All right?”

Dean nodded, his green eyes shining with tears. “I’m glad you’re here.” Cas started to respond, to remind him that there was nowhere else he would be, but Dean cut him off. “I know you know. But I wanted to say it anyhow.”

Cas noticed a change after that. Dean was still the same stubborn mule Cas had fallen in love with, but he gradually became more willing to let Cas help. And somehow, Cas loved him even more for it. He loved seeing the slow-blossoming acceptance that came when Dean stopped seeing Cas’s help as a sign of weakness.

Now, standing in front of the steaming trays of food, Cas considers what else to add to their plates. He bypasses the cauldron of oatmeal (they eat that at home most mornings) and continues along the buffet. There’s a tremendous satisfaction in being allowed to care for this man who has done so much for so many and asked for so little in return. In fact, Dean has now embraced this new role so fully—no longer questioning what he deserves, or grudgingly accepting help, but full-on enjoyment of being doted on—that Cas has to be careful he doesn’t get lazy. There’s nothing Cas would rather do than settle Dean in front of a sunny window, snug in the recliner for Cas to wait on like a pampered cat, but he knows that sort of inactivity would do Dean’s joints and his heart no favors. So he watches Dean’s diet and insists on them taking slow walks after breakfast when his energy is highest.

Their neighborhood is a mix of young and old and everyone knows the two Mr. Winchesters who circle the block on days when the weather permits. The kids on bikes and scooters know to give them a wide berth, their parents warning them that the old men need the entire sidewalk, but they call out their hellos as they go by. They’re friendly with everyone except the woman who lives on the corner. Dean is convinced she’s a demon, but Cas suspects his distrust of her stems more from the fact that she seems immune to his charm. (Whatever the reason, he’s had to talk Dean out of chalking a devil’s trap inside her mailbox more than once.) They chat with their neighbors about the weather and the score of last night’s ballgame, and it’s so painfully normal that Cas sometimes feels his throat tighten up at the wonder of it all.

When Cas returns to their booth, Dean examines his plate. “They outta bacon?”

Cas cuts the waffle into manageable pieces and peels the wrapper from the muffin before sliding Dean’s plate over. “You know the deal.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean says. “You just like to look at my ass when I get up.”

They eat in congenial silence with Dean methodically working his way around his plate, eating everything heartily, even the fruit. Sitting next to him, Cas can easily scoop up any bites that miss his mouth, plucking them from Dean’s lap or his shirt.

“You two good?” The waitress asks when she comes to refill their coffees. “Need anything?”

Dean swallows the bite of muffin he’s working on, and rests his hand on top of Cas’s. “I’ve got everything I need right here. An actual angel, this one.”

She nods agreeably. “I can almost see his halo.”

Cas has learned that an old man can say just about anything and receive an indulgent smile in return. When Dean references angels or demons or the apocalypse, people assume he’s speaking in metaphor and they’ll nod pleasantly. Sometimes he’ll do it purely for effect, telling rambling tales from their past for the sheer enjoyment of being able to speak openly. He can’t always keep the details straight, but Cas is there to remind him. Some days, though, he seems to lose where he is in time, and there’s nothing Cas can do for that. Cas has taken to keeping a watchful eye on him in the late afternoons when he likes to doze on the couch with their one-eyed black cat curled up on his chest. Cas stays close in case he wakes from his nap agitated, calling for Cas, wanting to know where Sam is. Cas helps him to sit up as the cat springs down and scurries away.

“Don’t go,” he says again and again, and Cas takes him in his arms, assuring Dean that he’s here and reminding him that Sam is safe at his own home. He holds him until Dean shakily dismisses it all as just a bad dream.

The unfairness of it overwhelms Cas, and each time he’s left filled with wrath. These final years should be spent in well-earned peace, but instead Dean seems cursed with reliving his most frightening memories, traumatized anew by old, familiar fears. If Dean’s mind is destined to slip, why can’t it be toward blissful forgetting? What Dean has endured goes beyond what any human should; to ask him to bear it again is nothing short of cruel. But it’s a torture chamber created in his own mind, and all Cas can do is sit helplessly by, doing his best to ground Dean and bring him back to the present.

Cas looks at Dean’s empty plate. “Did you want to get some more?”

“Nah.” He’s full and happy and it’s time for their walk.

The waitress arrives to clear their plates. As he does every week, Dean asks if she needs to see his ID for the senior discount. As she does every week, she pretends to consider it before leaving the check. “You boys take your time.”

“Tip her well,” Dean says, leaning in to supervise Cas as he signs the bill.

“I always do,” Cas assures him.

When they’re ready to leave, Cas stands next to the banquette, waiting for Dean to retrieve his cane and slide himself to the edge. Using a combination of the cane and Cas’s extended arm, Dean hoists himself upright, groaning a little. Cas keeps a firm hold on him until he’s steady on his feet. Dean still dresses in layers, but these days it’s because he gets chilled easily. He favors heavy knit cardigans and as long as Cas gets the zipper started for him he can tug it up or down as needed. Cas checks him for crumbs then together they walk through the other tables crowded with families. They continue by the hostess station where a woman is wiping down menus. “See you next week,” she calls as they pass.

Cas steps forward to push open the door, and stands holding it. “Watch your step,” he says as he always does, pointing toward the raised metal threshold of the doorway.

Using his cane to steady himself, Dean shuffles his way over it, then stops to lay his hand on Cas’s cheek. His knuckles are gnarled, the skin of his palm is dry and warm, and Cas feels the same flare of awe go through him as he has since the moment he first found this glorious soul in the depths of hell.

“I am the luckiest man who has ever lived,” Dean says.

Cas kisses his palm, then takes his arm to help him on his way.

[yandere-society]

The Devil in the ICU

Pairing:

Synopsis: You’ve rarely spoken to your neighbor Jimin, but he’s always been kind to you. When you get into an accident that lands you in the ER, you’re grateful to see who’s taking such good care of you. It isn’t until later that you start to wonder… will you ever be leaving the hospital?

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: Blood, murder/death, yandere themes, stalking themes, needles/IVs

Admin: @psycho-slytherin​

Request:

How did you wind up here? 

As you slump back into your bed, with him lying on the floor next to you, a hazy thought informs you that it must look like a scene straight out of Romeo and Juliet.

Although, you think ruefully, glancing down at the sharp shard of glass clenched in your fist, I don’t think Juliet would have done this.

“Merry fucking Christmas.”

~Three weeks earlier~

Taehyung, leaning against the doorframe with a steaming mug of coffee in his hand, looks as handsome as the day you married him. “Have a good day at work!”

You give him a quick kiss, shivering in the brisk morning air. “You too. Remember that we have that dinner tonight!”

Tae laughs. “Is that what we’re calling the awards ceremony? You know you’ve earned bragging rights.”

“Shush!” You boop him on the nose before turning and making for your car. On the other side of the fence, you can see your neighbor Jimin step out onto his porch. He catches your eye and, as Taehyung goes back inside, you smile amicably and nod at Jimin before getting into your car. You see him at his front door every morning, and he’s always friendly.

On your drive to the university campus, you think about tonight’s dinner. You’ll be presented with an awards for Arts Education despite being one of the youngest professors in the university’s faculty. You were thrilled when the dean of the school contacted you for the honor.

Once you park, you speedwalk to your first class of the day and burst through the door. You soon find yourself looking at twenty students, some bright-eyed, some more zombie-like.

“I’d apologize for being late,” you say, “But at this point I don’t think anyone is surprised.” The more awake students laugh, and you sling your bag onto your desk at the front of the room. “Let’s get started. Yoongi, you’re up first for workshop. Why don’t you stand up and read?”

Of all of your students, you think Yoongi is the most likely to pursue his career in creative writing. 

He nods and stands. You can see his hands trembling as he clutches the paper. 

When he sits back down after reading his poem, there’s a smattering of applause. “Very nice,” you say. “Now, who’d like to offer their feedback?”

~~~

Hours later, you dismiss your last class. You can’t wait to go home and tell Taehyung all about your day.

“So this one kid really decided the best move, instead of asking for an extension, was to plagiarize Twilight. Fucking Twilight!” 

Taehyung laughs as he buttons up his shirt. “What did you tell her?”

“Ugh, I hate to report anyone for plagiarism, I told her to write something new and turn it in for half credit.”

“No wonder your students love you. I think you’re personally responsible for all of the creative writing majors on campus.”

You finish zipping up your dress. “Probably. Let’s get going, yeah?” 

“Your wish, my command,” Taehyung says, gallantly bowing you out the door. You giggle as he opens the passenger side door for you. “For real, Y/n, want to get away for a weekend to celebrate? This is a nationally recognized award!”

“Hm…” you pretend to think. “Maybe we could go somewhere warm and sunny, with lots of beaches.”

Taehyung interlaces his fingers with yours, lifts your hand to his mouth, and kisses your palm. “Whatever you want. Christmas is coming up, maybe we can travel somewhere for the winter.”

You smile and look out of the window as Taehyung begins the drive. The ceremony is being held at a hotel twenty minutes away. And in a few weeks, you’ll be spending Christmas with the love of your life somewhere warm.

Under the twinkling night sky, everything feels so peaceful. Suddenly, you see a flash of light overhead. “Tae! A shooting star! Look-”

BANG. You hear the sound of crunching metal, feel a violent jerk, and everything goes dark.

~~~

“When she wakes up, start her on 20 milligrams of morphine. If her blood pressure is still low, go ahead and add saline to the IV. She shouldn’t need a transfusion unless anything opens up again.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

Doctor. Are you in the hospital, then? Was there an accident? “Ugh…” You blink hard in the blinding light. You’re woozy, and your mouth tastes like copper.

“Y/n! Doctor, she’s awake!” You hear a familiar voice, and feel a hand grip your own.

“M-Mom?”

“Y/n. Thank heavens, you’re awake.” Your mom’s voice is strained and thick, as though she’s been crying. When your eyes finally focus on her, she’s sniffling, and her eyes are bloodshot. She’s wearing a formal black dress – did she come straight from the ceremony?

“What happened?” You croak.

“You were in an accident,” your mom says, her voice breaking. “A bad one. We weren’t sure if you would make it.”

You wince. That doesn’t make sense, and the cost of a hospital stay isn’t in your budget. “Where’s Taehyung?” 

Your mother is silent for a moment too long, and you feel your chest grow tight. “Mom, where is Taehyung? He was in the car with me!”

“He… he didn’t make it. I’m so sorry,” your mom whispers. “The doctors did everything they could.”

No. “You’re lying.” Of course she is, she has to be, he’s your husband, he can’t be gone. “Don’t lie. He’s fine.” 

“Y/n, baby…” 

“No!” You weakly pull your hand from her grip. Angry tears form and begin to spill down your swollen, tender cheeks. “You’re lying!” Please, you beg inside your head, please be lying. Not Taehyung. He’s healthy, strong, smart, he has to be fine. 

You can see unshed tears shining in your mother’s eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“We weren’t going that fast,” you say desperately. “It can’t have been bad.”

“You broke a leg and a rib, fractured your collarbone, and punctured your lung,” Your mother says quietly. “They said you were lucky to have no brain damage.”

You sit back, stunned. It’s true, you’re wrapped in bandages and the parts of your skin that you can see are black and blue. When you lift the blanket, you can see a small clear tube protruding from your chest. Still, it’s impossible. You had only been driving for a few minutes. “What happened? The accident?”

“I-It was a hit-and-run,” your mother responds shakily. “They T-boned your car and drove away. There were witnesses, but no cameras and nobody got a license plate. They put out a notice for the car.”

You swallow. Despite your injuries, it seems like you’re unable to feel anything at all. Please, no… 

There’s a soft knock at the door. “Y/n?” You look up and through the dark fog in your head you feel a tinge of shock.

Standing in front of you, wearing blue scrubs and a mask, is… your neighbor.

“Jimin?”

Jimin nods. “I’m sorry for what you’re going through. I just need to adjust your IV – are you in pain?”

“No- yes.” As soon as the word escapes your mouth, feeling spills back into your body. Fuck. Suddenly you can’t breathe, your chest feels like it’s on fire, and your leg… “It hurts really badly.”

“Let me increase the morphine dosage.” He steps towards the machines and IV to which you’re hooked up and fiddles with some buttons.

Your heart feels as though it’s stopped on Taehyung. You refuse to believe it, and so you refuse to grieve. “I didn’t know you were a doctor,” you say to Jimin. Your voice sounds like a robotic copy of itself. Out of the corner of your eye, you see your mother glancing at you with worry.

“I’m not, I’m a nurse,” he replies. 

“You take good care of her, you hear?” Your mom says to Jimin, clearly understanding your silent signal not to bring up Taehyung. She was lying – he has to be fine.

Jimin nods firmly, the ghost of a smile on his face. “Yes, ma’am. She’ll be up and about soon, but for now she needs rest.”

As your mom rises slowly from her chair beside your bed, she grasps Jimin’s hand in hers. “Make sure she’s okay.”

“I will.”

Once your mom leaves, your eyelids feel heavy. Your brain is foggy with distorted thoughts of Taehyung. Why can’t you remember anything? “What time is it?”

“Three in the morning,” Jimin supplies.

That surprises you. “It’s been hours.” 

“It has.” “Do you know what happened to the awards ceremony?”

“The… what?”

Of course he doesn’t. Why should he? You sink as far as you can into your pillow, wishing only that it would suffocate you. It feels like there’s an all-consuming black hole in your chest, clawing at every part of you. Taehyung. Taehyung. Taehyung.

“I’m sorry about your husband,” Jimin says gravely. “I met him several times. He was a very kind man.”

“He’s not gone,” you reply stubbornly. He can’t be. “I just need to get better and get home.” Tae will be there.

Jimin pauses. “We’ll do our best.”

“Thank you.”

“The doctor will be back in soon,” Jimin adds. “I can give you something to help you sleep after.”

“Oh, you’re an angel.” After everything that’s happened, you don’t think you can ever sleep again. At least, not until you’re with Taehyung. Surely, the doctor will be able to tell you the truth. 

The doctor comes in, a middle-aged Black woman who introduces herself as Dr. Greene. She walks you through your injuries and the path to recovery. “Luckily, they could have been a lot worse,” she says, eyeing your chart appreciatively. “You should be discharged in two weeks, give or take. After that, it’ll be a while still with your leg in a cast. You’ll have to come back for more check-ups. And as soon as your lung heals, we want you to start physical therapy to counteract all the bed rest. Do you have any questions for me?”

“Where is my husband?” You ask desperately. Behind Dr. Greene, you see Jimin’s face has turned stony. “He was in the car with me, his name is Kim Taehyung–”

“Your husband has passed away,” the doctor says simply, quietly. “I’m sorry.”

At last, with this authority figure having sealed his fate, you allow yourself to cry for Taehyung. Loud, animalistic sobs tear from your chest until your abused ribs and lungs can’t support you anymore and you collapse, screaming silently into hands that hurt to lift. 

“Y/n…”

“It’s not fair. It’s not fair! It should have been me.” The two of you were only on your way to the dinner because of you. It’s your fault. Your fault. Your fault. “It should have been me!”

You feel fingertips lightly touch your aching shoulder. From his earlier position near the doorway, Jimin is suddenly right next to you. “No, it shouldn’t have. And it’s not your fault, Y/n,” he says. 

“Grief is natural and necessary, really, for the healing process,” Dr. Greene adds. “But Nurse Jimin is right, you shouldn’t blame yourself.” She looked back at her chart. “Jimin, you’re on call for the night, yes?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Keep an eye on her pain levels. Y/n, if you’re uncomfortable or need anything during the night, press this button and Jimin will come check in on you, alright?”

You nod numbly. You don’t care. You hope you do die during the night, so you can at least be with Taehyung. 

Jimin leaves and returns in what feels like both an hour and two seconds, holding a clear bag full of liquid and a bottle of pills.

“Take one of these to help you sleep. This is for your blood pressure – it’s still low – and we’ve added more morphine.”

You simply hold out your hand for the bottle, shake out a pill, and swallow it down without water. Why would you need water when the love of your life is gone?

“Remember, press the button if you need anything,” Jimin says. “I’ll be right here for you.”

“Mm.” You turn over as much as you comfortably can and almost immediately fall into a hopefully dreamless sleep.

If only you were so lucky.

The crash. The moment of the shooting star. Over and over and over again.

“Y/n! Come on, baby, wake up!” You can’t see anything, but you can hear his voice. “They’ll be here soon, you have to hang on for me, okay?”

7.

“Help! Somebody help! No, she’s worse than me, hurry up!”

H.

“Miss? Can you hear me?” 

“Shit, he’s coding!”

L.

“Y/n?” You feel yourself being gently shaken, and still half-dreaming, your body gives a great shudder from the accident. “I’m sorry to wake you. I just need to take your vitals.”

“Blue,” you reply, barely able to form the word. You saw it. “The car was blue.” 

When you look up, you realize that it’s not Jimin, but a nurse you’ve never seen before. She pauses for a moment, clearly perplexed, before she blinks.

“Oh! You were in a car accident?”

“The car was blue,” you continue, scared to lose the thought. You’re a professor of writing at a top university, you should be able to express yourself more fluently. But your words seem to escape you before you can capture them. “License 7-H-L.”

“Oh, my… the nurse looks around before grabbing a pen clipped to her scrubs and scribbling the numbers onto a notepad beside you. “You’re a regular detective!”

“Where’s Jimin?” You ask. You don’t know this new nurse, but at least you trust Jimin.

“Oh, his shift ended,” she replies. “He’ll be back tonight! In the meantime, can you tell me how you feel?”

“I’m… dizzy. My heart…” You can hear it pounding hard in your ears, far too quickly, and leaving you lightheaded. Your whole body hurts, centralized in your leg and chest, far worse than last night.

“Your blood pressure must have gone back to normal, let me get that saline off for you. How’s the pain? Your morphine should have worn off by now.”

You wince. “Bad.”

“Okay, I’ll adjust that.” The nurse fiddles with your IV before turning back to you. “I think your mother will be here soon. In the meantime, is there anything I can do for you?”

“Actually… can you tell her not to come?” A wave of guilt tries to wash over you, but it’s overpowered by the darkness already inside. “I just want to sleep today. She shouldn’t bother.” You pause. “I don’t want any visitors.” “Ah- sure thing, whatever you’d like,” the nurse chirps hesitantly. “Oh, and… what happened to your hair?”

“What do you mean?”

The nurse points. “You’re missing a chunk of hair, I’m guessing from the accident. Hey, maybe when you get out you can try a new style!”

“Yeah, maybe.” You lay back down and stare at the ceiling, wishing only that it would fall apart and crush you. What’s the point of anything without Taehyung? But… what about your students, your classes?

The day passes in a blur, and your intermittent napping keeps you barely aware of your surroundings. You don’t dream of the crash again – it’s a blessing, but at the same time you wish you could remember the rest of the license plate. You finally awaken for real once dusk has settled on the hospital.

You press the button, and immediately Jimin is in your room. “What can I do for you, Y/n?”

You take a deep breath. “Can you please bring me a pad of paper and a pencil?” You were a teenager when your father passed away, and writing was the only thing that saved you then. Perhaps it will be your healing salve now.

“Sure, there’s paper right-” Jimin pauses beside your bed before handing you the pad of paper. “Here, sorry. And you can use one of my pens. How are you feeling?”

“Groggy,” you reply. You’re surprised by how weak your grip on the pencil feels. “Numb. It hurts, but…”

“I’ll make a note for the doctor. Don’t worry, I promised your mom that I’d help you get better. Your lung should be healing soon,” Jimin says. “But I need to change the bandages on your chest tube, if that’s okay?” “Yeah.” You forgot it was there, the clear tube coming out of your chest. It’s held in place with bandages, which Jimin carefully removes before cleaning off your skin and placing new ones down. He’s wearing a silver locket that you’ve never noticed before. It suits him, shining against his skin.

“Thank you,” you say as he finishes taking your vitals. 

“I’m happy to help.”

The next week passes in a blur; between crying fits for Taehyung, assuring your mother that you’re alright, scribbling down everything on your mind, and forcing yourself to sleep simply to avoid the reality of waking hours, you barely have a second to consider your own healing process.

It isn’t until Dr. Greene beams at you that you register: physically, you’re feeling a lot better, and after a week of bed rest and god awful depression, you’re ready to try hobbling around. 

“Looks like you might actually get out a few days early,” Dr. Greene says. “We’ll be able to remove that chest tube tonight.” Beside you, your mother begins crying with relief. 

“Wonderful.” It’s still hard to smile, but you manage a weak attempt. Later that day, you hear a bit of commotion in the hallway, and soon the nurse brings in a huge basket of cards, flowers, and stuffed animals.

“Woah… what’s all this?” With effort, you sit up and take the offered basket. The sweet smell of the flowers is a welcome change to the cold sanitation of the hospital. 

“From your students!” The nurse says happily. “Some even sent you books!”

“Aww, they’re sweet.” You flip through one of the books and notice that all your advisees have signed the title page and scribbled well-wishes in the margins of the chapters. Their kindness and love sparks your first real smile since the accident.

You spend the day reading, counting down the hours until your chest tube is removed. When you’re finally wheeled to the OR and numbed up so they can sew the hole in your chest shut, you feel relief. Your leg is still in a cast, but at least your body is fighting for you. 

That night, you’re drifting off to sleep when you feel a painful tugging on your chest, right where your stitches are. “Mm?” You blink sleepily and see Jimin’s silhouette standing over you.

“Ah, Y/n. I’m sanitizing your wound so it heals well, don’t mind me. How are you feeling?”

“I’m a little sore,” you reply honestly. “It’s not too bad, though.” “Let me fix that for you.” You can see Jimin’s dark figure change something on your IV. “That’ll help you feel better.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, feeling sleep begin to overtake you.

“It’s my pleasure, Y/n.” That night, your dreams are choppy and chaotic. At one point, you dream that your body is on fire; at another, you’re back in the accident but instead of Taehyung, it’s Jimin. The sun has barely risen before you bolt upwards. “Gah!” Your throat is burning, dry, painful – it feels like you’ve swallowed sand.

It must be extra early, because Jimin is still there. He rushes to your bedside. “Y/n? What’s wrong?”

“I- who are you? I need… water…” you croak, your vision swimming before you. You don’t know who this man is, and you don’t know where you are. You can vaguely feel yourself falling backwards.

“Okay, let me get you some- wait, Y/n!”

~~~

You awaken with Jimin, Dr. Greene, and another nurse standing over you. Packed in bed beside you are several ice packs. Even so, you feel your body sweating. 

“What… happened?” You manage. Your tongue feels thick in your mouth.

“You woke up with a bad fever. It’s lucky Jimin thought fast and worked to cool you down.” Dr. Greene said. “We’ll have to keep you monitored for longer than we anticipated.”

“W-Why do I have a fever?”

Dr. Greene’s brows knit together. “I… I’m not sure. We’ll keep an eye on you for the next couple of days and see if anything changes.”

Your fever goes up and down throughout the day, occasionally spiking dangerously enough that the monitors around you begin to beep in alarm. Around noon, Jimin comes in with water and a bottle of pills. He’s wearing a lopsided Santa hat along with his scrubs.

“Merry almost-Christmas. Here, take two for the fever.”

“What are you doing here?” You ask weakly. Even in your fever-addled mind, you remember he only comes at night.

“My shift changed. You need more urgent care anyways, and I volunteered.”

You swallow down the pills and nod. “Thanks.”

“Your bruises have improved,” Jimin observes, lightly touching your face.

“I guess. Fuck.” You feel the sudden urge to douse yourself in cold water. “I just want to get out of here.”

Jimin is quiet for a moment. “Have they found the car that hit you?”

“How would I know?” You feel a wave of dizziness hit you, likely brought on by a heartbeat that never seems to slow down. “Jimin, please…” Save me.

“We’ll see how you’re doing tomorrow,” Jimin says. “For now, you should stay awake. What’s your favorite color?”

“Uh, green.”

“Favorite food?” You can barely think. “Sushi.”

Jimin grins. “Favorite neighbor?”

You try to summon a chuckle. “Whichever one is saving my life.”

“Fantastic. I’ll see you later tonight. Your mother should be in here soon – let me adjust your pain meds, we kept you off of them from the fever but they might just help.”

The night feels eternal; you can’t sleep a wink, and your mother stays with you the whole night. Your fever continues to climb and although at first your breathing is rapid to cool you down, by the time the sun rises it feels as though your lungs have stopped working entirely. You don’t know if that’s normal for a fever.

“Doctor!” Your mother calls for what feels like the thousandth time. 

Dr. Greene hurries into the room, Jimin right behind her. “Is it her fever?”

“No, it’s…” Your mother points wordlessly at your hands. You can’t see what she’s talking about, but when you raise your hands you see your fingertips are blue. You can’t think. You can’t breathe. You don’t care. Everything is fuzzy, so fuzzy… the monitors are beeping again, but you can barely hear them. You’re gasping for air now, choking on nothing. You can’t breathe.

“Doctor Greene,” Jimin says loudly, “I think she’s overdosing.”

“Lord, you may be right. Get the Narcan!”

Jimin darts out of the room and returns just as your eyes begin to flutter closed. Taehyung… 

~~~

There’s a cliff. Taehyung is there, you know it. You just need to jump. The moment you start walking, though, it’s almost as if you’re being pulled away from the edge. No! You open your eyes. Has it been minutes? Days?

“Dear god,” your mother says breathlessly. “She’s awake.”

“How on earth…?” Dr. Greene wonders, wiping her forehead. “Jimin, props to you for your quick thinking. But an overdose? How?”

“Doctor, it’s possible that with her weakness and weight loss, plus the fact that we held off the morphine for several days, an average dose might have caused her to OD.” Jimin suggests. His voice seems to carry more authority than even Dr. Greene’s.

“Yes, perhaps… but the fever?”

“Hm…” Jimin reaches forward and prods at the stitches on your chest. You immediately flinch, your raspy voice yelping in pain. “An infection. Possibly blood poisoning.”

“You know, you really might be right,” Dr. Greene says thoughtfully. “It’s not impossible. Okay, we’ll start you on an antibacterial and switch to lower-grade painkillers.” With this note, Dr. Greene and Jimin file out, leaving you with your mother.

“Momma, did you ever find the car?” You ask, gripping her hand urgently. The owner of that car killed your husband; you want them brought to justice.

“No, sweetie, I’m sorry.”

“What about the license plate?”

“Well, none of the witnesses saw it-”

“No,” you shake your head. “I- the nurse wrote it down. On…” you point to the notepad beside you. “The first page.”

Your mother picks up the abused pad of paper, filled with random journal entries and doodles, and flips to the front. “Y/n, there’s nothing here. It’s blank. Maybe you dreamed it?”

“What? No.” You’re sure that the nurse wrote it down for you. “Check on the floor.”

After a brief but thorough search, the paper doesn’t turn up. What had happened? You can’t possibly remember the partial plate now. Shit. And even so, it was a literal fever dream – you could have made the numbers up.

“Y/n, I’m going to go for an early Christmas dinner at Aunt Ella’s, but I’ll be back tomorrow morning, okay?” 

“Sure, mom.” She’s barely slept, after all. 

The next several days pass and you gradually begin to recover. The lab tests confirmed your blood poisoning, and you feel more grateful than ever that Jimin managed to catch it early – it could have killed you. It’s now been more than two weeks since the accident, and finally the doctor tells you that you’ll be ready to go home soon. As Christmas approaches, you’ve heard holiday music float through the air and bows and wreaths appear in your hospital room and down the hall. Even with the holiday cheer, the loss of the license plate weighs heavy on your mind.

“Merry Christmas Eve! Time to get up and try walking around!” The afternoon nurse says cheerfully as she helps you out of bed. With your heavy green cast making your leg feel detached, you clunk around while holding the nurse’s arm. You near the window, which overlooks a parking lot decorated with dirty snow, and gaze down onto the cars. Can you ever feel safe in a car again?

“Which one’s yours?” You ask the nurse absentmindedly, suddenly struck by another bolt of grief. Her life is normal. She has a car and goes to work.

“That white one right there next to the blue Prius,” she replies, pointing. You mindlessly follow her finger, when suddenly –

Blue. You clutch at your chest and stumble backwards, nearly falling if she hadn’t caught you. “That’s…” No, it can’t be. But in your heart and deep, deep in your memory… “Can you read the plate number on that blue car next to yours?”

“Uh, it’s a little too far away,” she replies, squinting. “I think it’s Jimin,’s though, I always see him pulling in just as my shift is over.”

Jimin. “Does it look dented at all?” You manage. “His car?”

“Ah… a little? I’m not sure.”

Jimin does have a blue Prius, you know that from seeing it in his driveway every day. So why, today, did the thought strike you so violently?

“You know, I think I’m tired. I’m going to lay down.”

“Oh, okay. Do you want some water or to go to the bathroom?”

“No. I just want to be alone.”

“Okay.” The nurse looks worried, but leaves you settled back in your bed. Night falls quickly and you hear a knock on the door. Jimin lets himself in, a bottle of pills in his hand.

“Hey, I heard you’ll be getting discharged soon,” he says cheerfully. He’s still wearing the Santa hat.

Blue. “Yeah, hopefully.”

“Awesome. Well, you need to take these,” he says, shaking two pills from the bottle in his hand and handing them to you.”

“What are they for?”

“They’ll help you sleep and let your blood vessels dilate to regulate your blood pressure.”

“Mm.” You wash them down with his offered water. Almost as soon as you swallow, you feel your body rebel against you – you lean over and vomit onto the floor. The smell makes you gag and you feel everything you’ve eaten come up a second time, the stomach acid burning your throat.

“What- what did you give-” you can’t finish your sentence as your stomach convulses again. Jimin rushes over to you with a bucket and you lean into it, retching. You continue dry heaving long after your body is completely emptied, while Jimin rubs your back reassuringly. “G-get the doctor,” you croak.

“Are you going to be okay alone-?” “Yes. Please, just…” your body shivers as he gets up and leaves. What did he give you? You’re doubtless that those pills caused your vomiting. Just the thought sends you back to your bucket, although you’ve no more left to give. 

“What on earth happened?” Dr. Greene says, rushing in. Jimin is close behind her.

“He gave me pills…” you gasp as your body tries to vomit again. The muscle contractions leave you feeling boneless. “They made me throw up.”

“You’ve got no known allergies on file…” Dr. Greene says, consulting a chart by your bed. “Jimin, what did you give her?”

Jimin produces a bottle clearly labelled DOXEPINE. “Just to help her sleep, she was asking for something earlier.”

Your heart drops. “That’s not-” you’re interrupted by another gagging fit. You want to scream at your body that there’s nothing left, but you can barely speak. “Not the same-” fuck.

“She must have a sensitivity to the Doxepine,” Dr. Greene says thoughtfully. “Jimin, make sure she stays hydrated. If she keeps throwing up we’ll need to keep her longer for observation.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Ngh… no…” Dr. Greene leaves before you can tell her that that wasn’t the same pill bottle.

“Here, drink this,” Jimin says, offering you a bottle of water.

“What did you give to me?” You ask, panting. As soon as the water touches your tongue you reach for the bucket, your body rejecting it immediately.

Jimin blinks innocently. “Sleeping pills.”

“Fuck off, that wasn’t the… same bottle.”

“Y/n, you’re sick and grieving, it’s understandable that your eyes are playing tricks on you-”

“No. You… poisoned me!” You summon what strength you have left and swipe at the nurse, who’s now leaning over you. Your fingers catch the silver chain around his neck, and the motion knocks the locket open.

Fluttering out of the locket and onto your bandaged chest is… hair?

No, not hair. Your hair. The color, and texture… it’s exactly the same.

You’re missing a chunk of hair, I’m guessing from the accident, the nurse had said.

Not from the accident. Almost in slow motion, your eyes travel up to meet Jimin’s. 

“Y/n, you’re acting erratic.” As if nothing happened, he plucks your hair from the bed, tucks it back into the locket, and straightens his Santa hat. “I’ll have to tell the doctor to consider sedatives. Merry Christmas, Y/n.”

“No-” Your stomach contracts once more and by the time you look up, gasping for breath, he’s gone.

You spend another sleepless night in the hospital, growing more paranoid by the minute. You refuse to eat or drink anything you’re given – you’re still nauseous, and what if it’s full of sedatives? 

When dawn breaks on Christmas Day, you’ve never felt less cheer. You’re concerned about Jimin; the car is surely a coincidence, but the hair? And the pills?

“Y/n?” Dr. Greene knocks on the door. “Merry Christmas. How are you feeling?”

“I want to get out of here,” you respond immediately.

Dr. Greene smiles. “We’ll see how you do moving around today. How’s your nausea?” 

“Better,” you lie. Anything to leave. You can handle nausea at home.

“Wonderful. Well, Nurse Jimin will be taking care of you today, since your other nurses are off duty. Press the button if you need anything.”

You nod, shivering. Should you tell Dr. Greene? Before you can consider it, though, she’s left the room.

Hours later, Jimin pops his head in, his Santa hat crooked. The locket is still swinging from his neck. 

“Hey! Dr. Greene said if you’re doing well by the end of the day, you might be discharged for tomorrow!”

You stare at him. Can he really pretend nothing is wrong? “Great.”

“Let’s get you up and walking around.” Jimin offers you his arm. At first you don’t want to take it, but your legs are too weak on your own. He slowly leads you out of your room and down the hall before circling back. You pass another window overlooking the parking lot and there, in the same spot, is the blue car. From this window, you can see much better.

“Which car’s yours?” you ask quietly.

“That blue Prius next to the white one,” he says cheerfully, pointing.

Finally, when you squint you can read the license plate: 7HLC946.

7HL. Your body stiffens. It’s the same car. Then, that means… you swivel slowly until you’re staring at Jimin, who’s still looking out of the window. He killed your husband.

He leads you back to your room. You feel frozen, and not from the wintertime. When you go inside, you hear a soft click. Your eyes widen. He locked the door.

“How are you feeling?” he asks softly from behind you.

“F-fine. Perfect,” you reply, your voice shaking.

“You know, you really have to stop getting yourself in trouble,” he says, strolling to the bed and smoothing down your sheets. Your eyes dart to the locked door. If you made a break for it with your cast, he could still beat you to it. “Every time you’re supposed to get discharged, something happens, and then who has to save you?”

“I’ve recovered,” you say firmly. Is it an ego thing? He wants credit for doing his job?

“Before, you always had your husband to save you,” Jimin says, standing. His eyes are drilling holes into you. “Do you know why he’d always see you off at the door?”

“Wh-what are you talking about?” “It’s so I couldn’t even look at you. He was always around, but not this time. And this time it was me that saved your life.” Jimin is advancing now, still smiling serenely. Your heart pounding, you back away, your cast clunking against the floor. 

“It was you,” you whisper when your back hits the window. “Your car. You hit us.”

“Almost gave me a heart attack when I saw you remembered my plate,” he says now, examining his nails. “Lucky I saw it before your mother did. How is she, by the way?”

“You… you killed my husband!” Your scream is more animal than human when it rips from your throat. You’re fully prepared to leap at Jimin and take the life he took from Taehyung when he pulls out a syringe.

“Shhh…” he says, stepping forward. “What did I say about sedation?”

Your blood runs cold. You don’t want to know what’s in the syringe, or what he’d do to you if he injected you with it.

Caught between him and the window, you freeze. You have to get away from him. You turn around and swing your heavy cast at the window. 

With a painful CRASH, the glass shatters. Shards fly everywhere, several of them catching and slicing your skin. You hear commotion outside and below as you shoot for the window and try to grab onto the windowsill. You nearly sob when the glass in your grip breaks off the windowsill. Almost… just like your dream of the cliff, though, you’re dragged back from the escape. Jimin locks one arm around your neck and pulls you away from the window.

You feel a sharp prick in your arm and, seconds later, your muscles seem to melt. If Jimin weren’t supporting your weight you would have fallen. Shit. What did he do to you?

“It’s for your own good, my love,” he says, carrying you to the bed and tucking the blankets in around you. Your tongue feels too heavy for your mouth; you can’t speak, and you can barely move your arms. 

There’s a loud banging on the door. “Y/n! Are you alright?”

“One second,”Jimin says to you before striding to the door and opening it.

“Jimin! What happened?” The voice belongs to a doctor you don’t recognize.

“Hey, Dr. Kim. Y/n started being combative and went for the window. Luckily, I got her calmed down and back into bed.”

Help. Your vocal chords won’t respond to you. “Hhe…”

“Goodness. We should get her moved out while the window is being repaired.” “I agree, but she did just fall asleep and she hasn’t slept in a while. I suggest giving her an hour.”

“Alright, well, please keep an eye on her.”

“Sure thing, Doctor.” Jimin shuts the door and locks eyes with you. 

“I’ve waited for you for a while, you know,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed. His position pins down your left arm, but your right is still free. If only you could move it. “You never got sick, or hurt. I checked. You never even came to visit.” Jimin continues smiling, but his eyes are cold. “That wasn’t very nice. It’s your fault that I had to make you come visit.”

“Stuh… you,” you gasp, forcing your head to clear. “Psy…” Let me go, you want to scream. You’re straining with the effort just to lift your head.

“I know, I know, why didn’t I just talk to you at your house? Well, your guardian was always there. But here, I’m in control. And I’m the one that can save you.”

You can sense feeling returning to your arms. If he keeps talking, it might give you more time to recover from your paralysis. Luckily, Jimin seems so relieved that he can finally tell you everything that he doesn’t seem close to shutting up. 

“Do you know how many times your mother has thanked me for saving your life? How Dr. Greene said I was her favorite nurse?” Jimin caresses your cheek, becoming more animated as he speaks. “Even you, Y/n, you called me your angel.”

You try to bite him when his hand gets close, but your jaw muscles are slack. C’mon… 

“And you’re right, I am your angel. I’m your guardian angel, and I’ll always keep you safe.” You can almost lift your hand. At his words, he leans in to kiss your forehead and with enormous effort, you use the same moment to lift and swipe your bloody hand, still gripping the jagged glass from the window, at him. The glass catches Jimin right in the neck and he gasps and sputters, pressing a hand to his throat as bright red blood gushes from the wound, spattering you and staining the bed. Meanwhile, you collapse, your strength entirely spent.

Jimin staggers upright, hand outstretched towards you. When he tries to speak, his voice is a mere gurgle.

“Y/n- you… no…” with that, he falls to the floor. You see him try and fail to rise again before Jimin sighs and is still at last.

How did you wind up here? 

As you slump back into your bed, with him lying on the floor next to you, a hazy thought informs you that it must look like a scene straight out of Romeo and Juliet.

Although, you think ruefully, glancing down at the sharp shard of glass clenched in your fits, I don’t think Juliet would have done this.

“Merry fucking Christmas.”

[morallygreyintrovert]

Nobody asked but I’m going to detail my every thought watching this episode here so enjoy:

1. Why on earth did this episode open with an upbeat montage? I literally said “what the fuck”out loud. I don’t know about you after defeating God and losing my adoptive son and my best friend (who confessed his secret love to me then died immediately after whom I’m also secretly in love with) I’m going to be pretty fucking devastated not doing chores?

*also forgot to add but Sam or Jared is looking super good in this montage, especially the shirtless scene. I’m not a Sam girly (Cas girly till I die) but even I was like “jeez is that man fineeeeee”

2. I definitely won’t be going to a pie festival? Like wtf was that?? Why is Sam more upset about Cas’ death that Dean. Dean is just like ‘ah well, shit happens and life goes on’ like sir are we going to pretend you didn’t go completely non-verbal watching the love of you life die in front of you.

3. Vampmines as the final big bad?? Like I think vampmines are kind of funny and that did make me laugh.

4. I do appreciate when shows comes full circles and there’s literary symmetry. A show ending how it started. So I like that it’s an old Case of John’s.

5. I like the rock music as the screens pans to Deans machete slicing through a vampires neck.

6. Sam should have let Dean use throwing stars, the boy just loves his toys.

7. Jenny? Who the fuck is Jenny? Like honestly when I watched this the first time I have no idea who she was, I had to google who she was. Like literally like I said I’m all for symmetry but out of all the people they could of brought back? Why her? It makes no sense, 0 sense.

8. However Deans whole interaction with her is super funny.

9. NOOO THE CAMERA JUST ZOOMED IN ON THE REBAR. i can’t believe Dean is about to die like I know he is but I don’t believe it. only 18 minutes into the episode. AHHH HE’S JUST BEEN IMPALED NOOOOOOOO.

10. It’s so sad that Sam doesn’t immediately realise Dean’s situation. The panic in his eyes �� Dean refusing to let Sam get the first aid kit or even trying to save him kind of reminds me of the door titanic scene like there was definitely enough room for both of them, Jack didn’t need to die. DEAN DIDN’T DESERVE TO DIE.

11. I know early Dean wanted to go on a hunt and I may have been okay with that (I wouldn’t) but WHERE WAS HIS BLAZE OF GLORY?? it wasn’t even a vampire who killed him IT WAS A FREAKIN RUSTY NAIL. Also that man didn’t not want to live (because of his grief for Cas obvs). They spend MINUTES saying goodbye I’m sorry Sam could of saved him.

12. Dean telling Sam about that night he came to get him from Stanford and he was there’s for hours nervous because he was scared of Sam rejecting him and him begging Sam not to leave him. NOOOO IM IN SO MANY TEARS.

13. Dean telling Sam to “keep fighting” as he choosing to die THE HYPOCRISY

14. “My baby brother” 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

15. Sam “it’s okay. You can go now” me, screaming at my tv in tears “NO IT’S NOT OKAY, DON’T GO!!!!!! IT’S NOT OKAY”

Annnnnd that’s all I watched because I’ve turned it off now in disgust. As it turns out, Enough time has not passed and the grief is still raw. I’ve seen all I’ve needed to see as my fic is canon until a second before Dean is impaled and that’s when my fic diverges from this shit show of a final episode.

That’s all she wrote.

I have watched the Supernatural fully only once, I have rewatched seasons 1-8 a fair few times and episodes with Cas and Gabriel I have watched a dozens times but I have never watched season 15 or the last 2 episodes more than once.

Until today. I have not been able to bring myself to do it but as I have resumed writing my post season 15 fix-it fic, I wanted the end of the show fresh in my mind. So for research purposes I’m putting myself through the pain of watching ‘Carry On’ (I’m not or never will be able to bring myself to watch ‘Despair’ again. Okay maybe I’m being a bit dramatic but whatever)

Wish me luck.

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

for @bend-me-shape-me's spn advent calendar 2020. prompt: carols.

dedicated to @one-more-offbeat-anthem!! happy birthday <3

After Chuck's defeated, and Billie's gone, and the Empty has been bargained with (semantics, any of the Winchesters would say if you asked one of the four to elaborate) into returning Cas in exchange for eternal sleep, there's peace.

After they're done, and really done, there's time.

A moment to breathe, a minute to look at the clouds, and hours stretching endless, days on end, resonating with something resembling quiet.

And then, there's a guitar.

*

"Nope." Dean declares. "Never seen that thing in here before. And I once did Christmas inventory by myself, so I should know."

Sam snickers at Dean's cavalier tone. He'd been content to examine the instrument from a distance, unlike his brother, but that didn't mean he wasn't paying attention. "You had to do it yourself, Dean. Those were the exact words of the bet."

"I was drunk, and you hustled me!"

"You've known I play poker my entire life!"

"Well, yeah." Dean flashes his best shit-eating grin. "But you've sucked, your entire life, so —"

"— sure I have —"

"— your entire life has really just been a very long, very lame hustle!" Dean spreads his arms in a display of triumph. "And ergo, you hustled me into Christmas inventory-ing. The case is rested, your honor."

"That's not how you say —"

"Sam. Dean." Cas interjects, loud and exasperated. Sam shuts up immediately, eyes falling to his lap, while Dean exchanges a sheepish look with Cas (and Jack, who to his credit, seemed to be unaffected by the mini-feud. But that's less the part about him being God-Lite and more about him being himself. A kid who grew up watching his dads bicker endlessly and mostly, uneventfully, and has come to terms with it as a primary aspect of (at least, his) family.)

Cas, as usual, puts up with less of their crap. "Is this really necessary right now?"

Dean loves him for it, except when it's targeted at Dean and since that's kind of a lot, he isn't sure he loves it, or just loves Cas and generalises the things he does under the wider bracket of Cas.

"And if it's not," Cas goes on, using what is probably his I-led-garrisons-in-heaven voice, which automatically sends a shiver up Dean's spine. "Can we agree the guitar is, somehow, a recent addition and leave it at that?"

Sam nods slightly, apologetic. Dean just rolls his eyes, but it's a yes. (Everyone there knows it's a yes.)

"It's not cursed." Jack cuts in brightly. "Or out of the ordinary at all."

"So," Dean blinks. "We just happen to have an awesome new guitar show up, completely randomly, in this top secret Bunker no one know about, minus any ulterior motives or death curses?"

Jack grins. "Yes."

"Cool." Dean says immediately, and Sam huffs an amused laugh. He thinks he sees Cas smile as well, and a smirk grows on his face.

"Dibs."

*

Unsurprisingly, nobody counters his dibs, and Dean ends up taking the guitar to his room.

It's after a few days of insecurity, leading right into embarrassment, leading further to ignoring its existence, and further still to a mostly depressive array of memories — before it circles back to insecurity, and is about to repeat all over again, when he stops himself in his proverbial spiral, and decides to just friggin' do it.

That night, he picks up the pick.

Fiddles with it in his hands for a minute, and proceeds to abandon the idea again, because it does not feel right. Different shape, different weight.

And Dean Winchester's already enough of a misfit for this project, for his guitar pick to be a poor goddamn fit in his hand too.

But there's something about being so close that stirs up motivation in his heart, similar to the first day they found the damn thing, and next morning, he's out looking for a music shop in town.

That night, he finally plays.

It's uncertain — experimental — and he soon realizes why nobody ever says a damn thing about guitars when they say you never forget how to ride a bike.

But then, slowly, and really slowly at that, music seems to return to his fingers.

It isn't smooth by any chance, or even really accurate, but there's a faint tug in his brain that leads him to the next chord, and a twitch in his wrist that tells him when to strum, and he's awful, he's really friggin' awful, but even repeatedly saying so in his head refuses to dampen the overwhelming feeling that lights him up from the inside to start to feel like maybe he can play again. There's hope, and there's terrible, off-timed, broken music, and there's Dean in the middle of it, and maybe he can actually do this.

Recollection of how to play had come to his hands as they trembled, and tried, but the exhilaration of it, and the joy, only come back to his heart once he'd stopped, heart racing, adrenaline high, and unexplainable tears pricking his eyes.

Dean Winchester goes to bed that night, giddy in a way he hasn't been in years.

And outside his bedroom, his family of three exchange confused glances when the playing stopped abruptly, and then smiles when a sound that can only be said to bear semblance to a squeal, follows the silence.

(The first song Dean had played in over twenty five years had been Joy to the World.

It had also been the first song he'd ever learned — Cassie's choice, not his. Sam, Cas and Jack didn't know any of that. To them, it had just been a christmas carol. But there was also something so moving about that, soft in a way each of them knew Dean would fight against being, that they didn't realize they hadn't budged from Dean's door, long until faint snores replaced the quiet, and they left for their own beds, wordlessly already having decided on a plan for the next day.)

*

Cas knocks first on Dean's bedroom door, and all music immediately ceases. There's a yell from inside after ten seconds of a shuffling kind of silence.

"Yeah?"

"May I come in?" Cas asks.

Another pause.

Cas wonders worriedly if Sam and Jack were mistaken when they said that Cas had to be first, that he was their best shot at getting Dean to open up — the easiest past Dean's line of defense.

Then Dean says, a little quieter. "Yeah, sure."

Cas enters, gently closing the door behind himself before his eyes land on Dean — and he fights the urge to smile, because Dean hasn't kept away the guitar or anything. It's still on his lap, not in playing stance, with his arms folded over it — but he's not trying to hide it from Cas.

"Is everything okay?" Dean interrupts his reverie. Cas nods.

Neither of them say anything for a minute.

"Can I listen?"

Cas surprises himself with his own courage to ask — no twisted words or excuses to stay, just a simple question. Things were so rarely simple for them, but this wasn't a common occurrence either so it evened out.

"Y-yeah." Dean mutters.

Cas lights up.

"I suck, by the way." Dean adds, almost immediately. "But I'll suck less with time, I'm hoping. I mean, I'm supposed to, you know, but I — uh, I mean — maybe I —"

Cas realizes that he hadn't stopped smiling at Dean and that's what had made Dean falter, and he looks away, embarrassed.

"I'll just play, I guess." Dean manages smally, sounding as embarrassed as him.

"Please."

Dean clears his throat instead of playing.

"Yeah."

Cas can tell he's nervous. Even if he weren't good at, and very used to reading Dean, he could've gauged as much. And he wishes he had the right words, he really does, but he's aware a sincere speech of how much it means that Dean let him stay, and listen, would have the opposite effect of calming.

Then there's another knock on the door, and Cas relaxes.

"Dean?"

Sure enough, it's Jack.

Sam had explained how Dean was most likely, unfortunately, to deflect if he was there — "his denial fires up, Cas. I associate it with a parenting complex of some kind, and he just won't let go of it." — so the order had been decided as Cas, Jack and Sam. No overwhelming by arriving all three at once, or one after the other as if it were planned. No, they'd enter after some time, giving the previous person time to make Dean comfortable to them before the next enters.

Cas thinks it's a rather brilliant plan, and wonders if he should ask Sam to formulate a similar one to get Dean to open up about other things too. He doesn't, ultimately.

"Yeah?" Dean yells back.

"Have you seen Cas?"

That had been the plan.

"Yeah," Dean raises his voice to answer. "He, uh. He's right here. Come on in."

And Jack does, and eyes Cas with probably too much meaning (he means triumph) for Dean to not have noticed, before turning to the latter. "Oh. Were you about to play for Cas?"

Dean colors at that, his ears reddening almost instantly, and Cas files it away for pondering later.

"Can I be here too?"

And Dean's eyes widen a little — sign of anxiety, maybe understanding — and he licks his lips and then he nods. "I guess. I mean, okay, fine. But didn't you need Cas for something?" He adds, confused.

"I," Jack hesitates. Oh no, Cas thinks. Sam's prepared him for this, but Jack looks like he's about to, as Dean would say, wing it. And all-powerful or not, he knows his son is a terrible liar. "No, I just wanted to know if you'd seen him."

Dean narrows his eyes.

"Now I do know. That, uh, you've seen him." Jack braves on, determined to reach the bottom of the proverbial hole he'd dug for himself apparently. "So now, I don't need to know anything. Now I can stay."

Dean sighs.

"I can, right?"

There's a lightness in Dean's voice instead of tension when he says, "Yeah."

"Thank you." Jack says brightly, and all Cas can do is shake his head when Jack turns to him for feedback, and the both of them proceed to wear (nearly matching, but not on purpose) excited stares as they focus on Dean.

*

The final straw is when there's a third knock on the door, and Sam pokes his head in. One unconvincing "Where's everyone at?" later, he's joined Cas and Jack in staring with a unnecessary (and hopefully unintended) comfort-the-vic's-family smile at Dean.

God, he loves these dumbasses and would give his life for everyone present in the room, but none of them can act for shit.

It's glaringly obvious they've all respectively shown up to listen to him play.

Which is bullshit in itself, because Dean wasn't being modest when he told Cas he sucks — he does suck. But then, he doesn't think any of them would mind. Sam would probably unlock new levels of the puppy eyes if he knew how happy even playing awfully, made Dean. Jack would be blunt, of course, but undeterringly sweet. And Cas? He'd probably smile at him all the way through, just — that smile of his, that always seems to make time freeze and Dean's heart stutter.

So Dean decides magnanimously to not call them out.

Right away, anyway.

Instead, he turns to them with a question. "Any requests?"

(He can't play one of the only songs he remembers having learned without errors yet, so obviously asking for requests is the right way to go. But you see, once you've given up on impressing, it's only fair to see yourself to the end of the chaos.)

"Christmas carols." Jack answers before anyone else.

"It's May."

"Sam's," Jack swallows. Dean should really get on teaching the kid how to lie. "Sam's making me listen to carols."

"In May?" He asks his brother this time.

Sam shrugs, struggling to keep a diplomatic face.

"You're going to grow up to be the young adult who doesn't take off the Christmas lights in January." Dean informs Jack, who absorbs his words with all the seriousness Dean should have expected. "And, fine. We can do carols."

Cas speaks up. "Any carol you'd like, Dean."

"Nah," Dean shakes his head. "Jack requested it. We'll do what he says." And he insists to his conscience that he said so because he wants to make Jack happy, and not because he's well aware the kid isn't being subjected to carols by Sam in friggin' May, and probably doesn't know any.

"Oh." Jack's face falls. He looks at Sam in the most conspicuous way anyone's ever looked at anyone. "I —"

"Uhhuh?"

"Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer!" Cas blurts, on behalf of Jack, and there's a two second gap where Sam facepalms and Jack exchanges a conspirational glance with Cas, and then Dean's throwing his head back and laughing.

And soon, Sam's joining in with an exasperated kind of chuckling as if he's gotten stuck in the wrong team but he doesn't regret a thing, and then Cas starts too, mostly from looking at Dean losing his shit (Dean strictly ignores thinking about that part and focuses on imprinting Cas's laugh to memory) and probably also because the ridiculosity of the entire situation probably struck him, and of course Jack's smiling at all of them, and it's, altogether, everything Dean could ever have wished for.

The evening ends with Dean playing Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer (of course) for at least an hour while consistently getting better at the repeating music, and although it's him humming under his breath (like he always has while playing) that starts it off, soon all of them are offering their own awful renditions to the chaos. Cas is off-key, Sam somehow manages to screw up the lyrics, and Jack is as flat as a friggin' plateau.

And it all comes together in a wholly unmelodious kind of awesome — to Dean the same way they say a mother's love comes through for an ugly child.

After Rudolph, it's Silent Night (another song Dean's learned, it hits him, once he's trying to find the right chord) and even Cas manages to look disappointed at the lyrics Sam and he come up with to make up for not knowing the real ones, and since Jack's never heard this one, he simply listens in rapt attention leaving Dean wondering if he probably ended up learning the wrong version on account of all his concentration.

And last of all, it's We Wish You A Merry Christmas, and Dean plays the chorus enough times that he's perfect at it, because for once, no one messes up the beat or the lyrics, and everyone has the most fun.

All in all, it's an evening to remember.

What Dean learns through it all is primarily the lesson that letting your family think they tricked you into having an audience is sometimes an excellent choice to make, and that things can be crap, but still be enjoyed. That doesn't mean he's not going to practice his ass off learning to play at least the choruses of the Led Zepp tracks he gifted Cas (the idea came to him in bed last night, and Cas has always sounded like he enjoyed them, okay?) so he can play them 'for Cas' as the kid so casually put — but then, some things are different from other things, just the way some love's different too.

And while some things are about efforts, and saying the words that scare you, others are about letting go, and singing carols in bright and sunny May.

The only thing Dean's sure about is that just about all of it comes down to being free.

[t4tdeanwinchester]

I think if your best friend and love of your life was dying right in front of you because he was finally happy, you’d probably try your hardest to make him miserable if it would literally save his life. *five minutes after having that thought* okay here’s 1.2k words about it

~~~

Dean thinks, for a moment, that the world is ending. There’s a ringing in his ears and his vision is blurry and his whole body is shaking; he feels like he’s dying. But Cas is still smiling and distantly, Dean can still hear Death at the door. So no, there’s no earthquake and no hurricane. The whole world isn’t ending. Just Dean’s.

“Don’t do this Cas,” he says. Why isn’t he saying anything else? Saying me too, saying you’re beautiful, saying love, I love you, I love you too? He opens his mouth and what comes out instead is, “You selfish asshole. Why are you doing this?”

It occurs to Dean, over the rushing of blood in his ears, what he needs to do. Because it’s always been this, hasn’t it? He’d rather hurt Cas, break his heart, break him apart, then let him go. He’ll hurt him if it’ll make him stay, and he’s the selfish asshole for that. He knows that. He keeps going anyway. It’s like he can’t stop himself. It’s like he doesn’t want to. If he can just make Cas miserable, he won’t die, won’t leave him again.  

“You think you’ve got a monopoly on deathbed confessions?” Dean’s voice is hoarse, but the anger he doesn’t have to fake. “Well you can take your speech and shove it where the sun don’t shine.” Dean’s breathing is getting faster, more frantic, and he’s waiting, waiting, waiting for Cas’ face to shutter, to break, to close off. He’s still smiling, though it’s muted by something somber. Pity, maybe.

“Dean,” he starts, and the way he says Dean’s name, like it’s a blessing to hold the letters in his mouth, like he could make a home out of one single syllable… well, it breaks something in Dean. The ringing stops with a sudden clarity, and then he can hear all of the silence and all of the time escaping the room, and he knows his best friend is going to die.

“Fuck you,” he snarls, and he can’t say the words fast enough. “You’re really so damn stupid. You think this is gonna end with me sweepin’ you off your feet?” Dean’s grasping at straws, and where he tries to put venom into his voice, there’s nothing but heartbreak, deep and sad and– well, heartbreaking. He’s desperate now. He’ll say anything to break Cas’ heart like he’s breaking his own. “What, one last kiss before eternal rest?” Dean’s sneer is broken and ugly, because now all he can think about is kissing Cas, how much he wants to get close to him, feel him warm and solid and alive against him so he can prove he’s still breathing. How he’ll probably never get to. He’s the damn stupid one. “Bet you want to,” he croaks, and oh, he wants. Aches for it, desperately. He realizes now he’s crying. He has been for some time. “Bet you wanna kiss me,” his voice breaks, and finally, Cas is striding forward, arms coming to cradle Dean where he sags like all his strings have been cut.

“I do,” Cas says. Dean clutches at the back of his coat. “I do.” His voice is raw but he’s holding Dean sweetly, like it’s a privilege rather than a burden, like he’s happy to bear him.

Dean feels sick, like the world is a teetering merry-go-round, spinning faster and faster until all the horses come loose. They’d watched Marry Poppins the other night, Dean and Cas and Jack and Sam. Jack had asked if they could get a horse for the bunker after watching the race scene, all the horses coming to life and breaking free from their confines. Dean had smiled at the kid, at how much he looked and sounded and acted like Cas. He can’t think about Jack right now, not least of all because he knows what it’s like to live with one parent missing, to grow up with devastation hanging heavy everywhere you go. He can’t have that happen to his kid.

“You can’t leave, Cas,” he says wretchedly. “I hate you, you can’t leave me.” They both know what Dean’s saying when he says he hates him. One of Cas’ hands comes up to hold Dean at the back of his neck, palm cupped gently around his skull as he clutches him close.

And then, quick like lightning, like getting the rug pulled out from under your feet, quick like the heart monitor going flat: Cas pulls away roughly, creating space between them, holding Dean’s shoulder one last time, body tight with the intent to shove him away.

“Goodbye, Dean,” he says, taking a moment, perhaps indulgently, to bring his unoccupied hand across the void between them to rest lightly on Dean’s cheek, his forehead, his mouth. He’s touching every part of Dean’s face, wiping away his tears in so much as he’s mapping the expanse of him, like he might forget. And all Dean can think is that there’s going to be no more Marry Poppins family movie nights. No more Jack asking for increasingly strange pets and Cas indulging him when Dean refuses. No more singing softly along with Julie Andrews because Mary used to sing those songs to get him to sleep, and sometimes it was the only thing that would get baby Sammy to calm down after a long night on the cold road and it’s still got the only lullabies he can remember – no looking over to see Cas watching him softly, blue and green and purple light from the TV splashed across his face. No more wondering what would happen if he’d reached out to hold Cas’ hand. He should’ve tried. He should’ve held anything Cas would’ve been willing to give him, and even the things he didn’t want to give. He’d hold all of him now, if he could.

“I hate you,” Dean whispers, voice like brittle bone, broken in several places. Cas’ fingers take one last trip to the dip of Dean’s mouth before he pulls his fingers back, tightens the hand holding the shoulder that he’d claimed over a decade ago, holding on tight to the body that’s always been his, even before Dean himself realized it.

With a shuddering smile and a quick shove, Cas has Dean falling against the wall.

The door bangs open.

Black emptiness is starting to ooze in through a rift in reality.

“I hate you,” Dean says, not so much a shout but a sob, “I hate you.” He’s like a broken record, he’s like a sinner in the gallows. This is his Hail Mary. Too bad Cas is fluent in prayer. Too bad he understands what Dean’s really saying. Too bad it isn’t enough to make him stay.

“I know. Dean,” Cas says as the Empty frames him, making him look, for one last time, winged. Ethereal. Something else entirely. “I know. I’m sorry. I love you.” Cas goes on mouthing the words to him, even when he stops being able to talk. There’s empty in his gut and his mouth and his eyes but the shape of him is still smiling. The shape of Cas is still mouthing I love you. And then the blackness surrounds him, consumes him, and Dean tracks the shape of his face until it is nothing but darkness, until nobody is there in the room but himself.

The grief is so thick Dean thinks he’s going to choke on it. He thinks his world is ending. He’s crying again. He thinks maybe he’s the one that died. 

So it goes.

[clairenatural]

~900 words, destiel, reverse!verse. this is a continuation of my suptober reverse!verse here, with demon!dean and hunter!cas. It’s been sitting unfinished in my drafts for a month because I wanted to continue it but honestly I can’t figure out an overarching plot for these two so I figured I’d at least post this :)

Dean barely registers the motel door swinging open before a book is being thrown at his head. “Ow! Cas, what the fuck,” he growls, and prepares to retaliate, but Castiel has the look of pure fury on his face that always manages to render Dean motionless. 

They’ve only been on the road a few days, but Dean already hates it.

“You’re not a Knight,” Cas spits out, gesturing at the tome of lore that has just bounced off Dean’s skull. “The Knights are all dead. Cain killed them all.”

Dean rolls his eyes and bends to pick up the book, frowning down at the illustration of Cain slaughtering the rest of them. He remembers that day too well. “Yeah, well,” he mutters, snapping the book shut. “He didn’t kill me.”

“And why didn’t he?”

Dean sighs and tosses the offending tome onto the other bed, across from him. “You know we were all human once, right? All demons. Just souls who ended up in Hell, and I--well. I was there because of a deal.”

“A deal,” Castiel repeats, not following.

“Yeah, dumbass, a deal. Like one of those crossroads scams. But I made a deal with Lucifer himself--my eternal service for my baby brother’s life. Cain always kinda liked me for that, I think. He did the same thing, you know?”

Castiel stares at him, not buying it. “Cain murdered his brother.”

“Yeah, to save his soul.”

“The Bible says--”

Dean cuts him off with a scoff. “Come on, man.” He yanks open the drawer of the bedside table and pulls out the Bible stored there. “This?” he gestures with the book before giving it the same unceremonious toss as the one that had been thrown at him. As if on instinct, Castiel flinches. “First rule, Cas. Don’t believe everything you’ve read.”

The hunter is fidgeting with the cross hanging around his neck again--a nervous habit, Dean’s noticed. “So...” he starts, after a long moment. “What did happen?”

Dean shrugs. “Lucifer had a claim on Abel’s soul, Cain made a deal to replace him in Hell and let him go to Heaven, and the devil said yes, but only if Abel died by his brothers hand. You know the rest.” He says this as if it’s basic knowledge.

“And you---and your brother?”

Dean shakes his head. “No--God, no. Sammy was just a kid, you know? He deserved to live longer. That’s it.”

For the first time in the conversation, Castiel crosses the room to sit on the motel bed across from him. “And you didn’t?”

And also for the first time in the conversation, Dean is at a loss of what to say. He looks down, but he can feel Castiel still staring at him, and he hates it. He doesn’t know who this human thinks he is, staring into the very core of him like that. 

“Didn’t have much goin’ for me, up here,” he replies, finally, because anything else would be too raw and honest. “Figured I’d take my chances downstairs. And hey,” he looks back up at Castiel and grins, hoping the other man won’t be able to see through his regained composure. “For a while, it was fun as Hell.” He leans into the pun like a crutch.

Castiel seems undeterred. He frowns. “And after all that, Cain let you....walk away.”

Dean nods at him but has to look away again. There’s something about devout humans that always makes his skin crawl, but Castiel...his gaze burns like Holy water.  “As long I promised him I’d lay low. Stop the endless killing. So...I did.” He glances down at his hands. “Throwing your brother across the room was the most fun I’ve had in a while.” 

He looks back at Castiel, expecting to be chastised for calling it “fun,” but the human is staring at him with an expression of mild shock. Dean knows that look. It means he’s been underestimated. 

He both loves and hates it.

They hold eye contact until Castiel breaks it with a sigh, and suddenly he’s refusing to meet Dean’s eyes. “I did that, too,” he starts. “I took a deal to save my brother. My youngest brother.”

Dean smiles. “I know, Cas. Why do you think I chose you?”

And, well. Apparently Castiel doesn’t really have an answer to that, because they just sit there for a moment, staring at each other again, before he sucks in a breath and tears his eyes away. “He died anyway, though,” Castiel continues, quietly. Uneasy, Dean thinks. Or maybe just...unsure. “I sold my soul for Samandriel, and he was saved, but he died again, anyway. Three months later, And there was nothing I could do. I prayed, too, but--but nobody could help me.”

“I knew that, too.” Dean leans in, smirking again. He remembers hearing about it like Castiel was some goddamn celebrity. The demon who made the deal bragged about it. It was like getting a free soul, he said. It had almost made him blow his cover, just to teach the guy a lesson. "Doesn’t that just make you want to burn it all to the ground?” 

Castiel looks up and looks at him for another long minute. He leans in to mirror Dean. “Yes,” he finally replies, tone now completely even. “Yes, it does.”

[insertdeeplyrics]

On the ending of Supernatural

Hi, I’ve never actually posted anything on Tumblr of my own creation (I mostly reblog stuff), but I’ve just seen the ending of Supernatural, and given that this is where I’ve been fed my SPN content, it felt right to share my thoughts here. I’m sure nobody is going to read this, but whatever, I just need to get this out of my chest. Sorry in advance if this is too long, but I have to type this out if I want to move on.

I still need to take some time to process everything that’s happened, because it is a lot. I did have my hopes up for the finale, thinking that Cas would at least show up, but like many of the fans, I was let down.

So I guess that would be the first issue I had with the episode. Regardless of what Dean felt towards Cas, if he reciprocated his feelings or not (which he totally did, I mean, we have all been watching the same show for 12 fucking years, and if you don’t believe me, there are plenty of metas that would support this statement), he still is his best friend and it doesn’t sit right with me the fact that he doesn’t even try to find a way to rescue Cas from the Empty. And okay, maybe he didn’t, make Cas got resurrected by Jack, then why the hell wasn’t he on the final episode? He was a pivotal character for the series, I mean, the proof is in the ratings: Season 7, when he was killed off to apparently never return, the ratings were at their lowest. The show may have started as just Dean and Sam, but over the years it became much bigger than them, and it is so disappointing that the show runners failed to acknowledge it. But I’ll get back to this point later.

Okay, I need to talk about Dean’s death, the only part of the episode that made me cry, because my poor baby had to suffer so much! Like, when he started saying that Sam never put up with John’s crap (which reinforces my headcanon that John was abusive towards the boys) and how much he admired him for it, my heart just shattered. I just love Dean Winchester so freaking much, and they did him so dirty... Don’t get me wrong, Jensen and Jared’s acting was 10/10, like, I thought I had a grip of myself and then Sam started crying and tears came back to my eyes. Nonetheless, I felt that the scene was so freaking long! I mean, Dean was dying, and he had time to make a 10 minutes-long speech! C’mon! Also, I get that Sam and Dean’s relationship is quite deep and strong and whatever, but I felt a bit unconformable watching it: it didn’t feel like a brotherly goodbye, more like a lover’s one. They were too touchy and intimate, and, overall, their relationship from this point on was coded as a romantic one, in my opinion. And Chuck, did I hate it! I have an older brother and I know what it is like to be close to your sibling and to love him more than anything else in the world, but the way they portrayed their relationship on this last episode felt incest-y, which makes me believe that this scene was originally written with another character in mind (cough CAS cough) or the writers don’t know the difference between romantic and brotherly love. To finish off, the way they killed off Dean??? I mean, I did expect Dean to die, but this was such a horrible and ridiculous way to go... I would have accepted it if he died actually fighting, but impaled??? After all he’s been through, after fighting so many demons, angels and deities, that’s how he dies??? That just felt cheap and rushed. Dean did not deserve that ending and I refuse to accept it. In fact, I refuse to acknowledge the existence of this whole fucking mess of an episode. Also, I just can’t believe that no one showed up to Dean’s funeral. I just can’t. I get that maybe it was difficult to bring in a lot of actors due to the pandemic, but they could have added them on post-production...

Next, we have Sam’s ending. He quits hunting and finally obtains his white-picket fence life. I did like the fact that he honored all of his friends and family that he lost along the way, especially Dean. Like, yes, if my brother died, I would like to keep a token (don’t know if that’s the actual word for it, my first language is not English), to have something with me that reminded me of him and to have him with me wherever I go. And I did like that he named his son Dean, in honor of his brother. However, we don’t know how he met his wife, we don’t even know who she is. They set up Sameileen for what?? Like, Sam and Eileen deserved better, tbh. And, again, even with Covid restrictions they could have done something to signal that Sam got married to Eileen, you don’t need the actor there. In fact, we never actually found out what happened to her, and just like I can’t believe that Dean didn’t even try to save Cas from the Empty, I can’t believe that Sam didn’t reach out to Eileen. Furthermore, the montage with his son felt cheap and a way to try to appeal to the audience’s emotions... (Btw, as a side note, the grey wig and the glasses, my god, they did Jared dirty 😂😂). But it wasn’t doing it for me, I didn’t care much for the kid, and while I do believe that was always going to be Sam’s ending, I didn’t like how it was executed.

And the worst part of it all: that suuuuuper long scene with Dean driving in Heaven, waiting for Sam. They could have used that time to show something more meaningful, even to develop a bit more Sam’s new life, how he adjusted to domesticity and fatherhood and all that crap. Or, I don’t know, A TEAM FREE WILL 2.0 REUNION??? And I guess this is my biggest issue with the whole episode. I get it, Sam and Dean are the central characters, the ones that started it all, but family don’t end with blood, and they were not the only ones who deserved a goodbye. They had formed so many bonds and friendships over the years, and to not have them address them on the final episode just feels infuriating. Especially Cas. His arc was not finished, he deserved to be on the finale. We never got Dean’s reaction to his confession, we don’t know how he felt about him, nor did Cas get to say goodbye to any other character. How did he get out of the Empty? What is he doing now? Is he still an angel? Also, he gave his life to save Dean, only for Dean to be killed not long after. My headcanon that is helping me cope with Dean’s death is thinking that he was so quick to accept his death because he was hoping to reunite in Heaven with Castiel. A girl can dream, ok??? But also, what about Jack? He is the new God, but I highly doubt it that he won’t drop by the Bunker from time to time, after all, Sam and Dean (AND CAS, ESPECIALLY CAS) raised him. And Charlie? Did she get back with Stevie? Did she and the boys go for drinks from time to time? And Jody? Donna? Claire? Sorry to be so repetitive, but I just can’t understand why the writers thought that these characters weren’t important enough to deserve a spot on the finale, and not just an off-hand mention (and not even all of them got that). Of course, the brothers are the main characters and their goodbye must be the longest and the most emotional of them all, but like I said before, the show stopped being just about the Winchesters on season 3, when Bobby was first introduced, maybe even 4, with Cas.

Overall, the finale left a lot of questions unanswered, most of them regarding secondary characters (but not less important for that!), completely destroyed Sam and Dean’s character development (Dean never got to be free, like he had been fighting for all season, probably all his life; Sam’s development is non-existing, as he ended up as he would’ve if he never had gotten on that hunting trip with Dean 15 years ago), and completely disregarded all the themes they had been setting up this season, probably on previous ones as well. It is sad knowing that the writers, either don’t know the show good enough to give it a proper goodbye, or they just didn’t care to do so. I don’t know who’s to blame here (definitely not the actors, though, probably someone higher up the chain), but I just know that I am so fucking disappointed. I expected more from the last episode of a 15-season TV show, one that has been part of my life for 7 years. I guess, that despite all of it, I can’t hate Supernatural. Maybe I was not a hardcore fan like some people on this site, but I did care for the characters and what happened to them. This is the show that introduced me to the world of shipping (Destiel will always hold a special place in my heart, it doesn’t matter how badly their relationship was treated, as well as the characters) and I got to discover one of my favorite characters, Dean Winchester. He is just such so complex, one that I relate to on so many levels, and his relationship with Cas has been the source of many short stories that I’ve never posted anywhere, but that have made me take up writing again. That’s the reason why I love the show so much, it has helped me tap into my creativeness and go back to writing, a passion of mine that I seem to have forgotten over the years. Anyways, maybe one day I’ll publish some of those stories, and maybe even write my own fix-it fanfic, but right now, I can’t deal with anything that has to do with the show, I am too hurt. Maybe once the five stages of grief are over, I might give it a try and read all of the amazing codas and fanfics that I’m sure will be posted here or on AO3. But for now, Supernatural is dead and gone, and I don’t want to talk nor think about it anymore. I’m done wasting my time here, because I feel like that’s what I’ve been doing this past 7 years after watching this crap of a finale.

To finish this long rant off, I just want to say thank you to some meta-writers, the true heroes of the fandom. Thanks to them, I carried on watching the show, because they made me have hope that things will get better. They are the ones that have made this experience worth something, and even though I’ve never spoken to any of them, I see you and I love you. Thanks for everything ❤. 

@tinkdw @charlie-minion @dotthings @heliodean @verobatto-angelxhunter @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover

[sterekruinedme]

Never been so defenceless

read on AO3

After it is all over and Jack has become God, Dean keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop. But it doesn't. True to his word Jack is very hands-off. Well, after he has restored everyone and everything, including Eileen to Sam's relief and joy, and Dean's dog. And then he left, leaving Sam and Dean to figure out what to do with their own freedom now.

Sam wants to keep hunting, Dean knows this. They haven't talked about it yet, but they don't have to. Sam has always been the hunter of the family. He has a restless energy about him, had it even back at Stanford. Being with Eileen has been good for him, but it hasn't calmed down his instincts and they will be hitting the road together soon, Dean can feel it. But Dean is tired. There are papers on his desk, an application form for a local car repair. Sam and Eileen will leave soon, but Dean is going to stay. He has a dog to take care of after all.

.

The goodbye is strangely calm, probably the calmest they have ever had. There is no anger or fear, only the promise to keep in touch and to see each other soon. Dean offered Sam his baby, but Sam refused to take the Impala. They are taking Eileen's car instead. Dean isn't worried, he knows the two of them will be able to manage just fine without him. He can see the way they look at each other and he knows his brother will be safe.

Dean is staying at the bunker, the only home he has ever really known, too young to really remember their house in Kansas. Miracle loves the bunker and the wide-open fields surrounding it and settles in perfectly. Dean however doesn't settle. Not really. He hasn't told Sam the truth about what really happened with him and Cas, not the whole truth anyway. Not yet. It's not that he thinks Sam would react badly, hell, Sam probably knew all along. He just cannot bring himself to talk about it, to even think about it. Cas's voice still echoes in his ears when it is too quiet.

"I love you."

He cannot sleep at night, so he drinks. He cries. And he prays.

"Cas, please, if you are out there, if you can hear me-" He chokes back tears, and Miracle whines and crowds closer into his arms. "I need you." He buries his face in soft fur and cries until his throat feels raw.

The empty had only taken Cas after he had confessed. His "Me too, Cas" had summoned it. After the last time Cas had died, Dean had vowed to himself to not have any regrets when it came to him and Cas, had promised himself he would confess the next time. Who could have known that he would end up regretting confessing his love? He didn't know what would have been worse; the empty taking Cas and Cas believing Dean didn't love him back or Dean's love confession summoning the empty? But perhaps selfishly he wished he hadn't confessed. Maybe Cas would still be here.

He would do anything for Cas to still be here, but the angel had gone to the one place he wouldn't be able to follow.

"The very touch of you corrupts!"

Dean tightens his arms around Miracle. "I'm sorry, Cas. I am so sorry."

.

In his weaker moments Dean considers asking Jack. After all, he is God now. He should be able to pull Cas out of the empty. But he never does. Jack deserves his freedom, he earned it just like the rest of them. Still, he wishes. And he waits.

.

Dean settles into a routine. He starts working at the local car repair. Sam and Eileen come home for a bit and the bunker feels a little bit warmer for a while.

He wishes he had something of Cas to hold onto, but there is no trenchcoat to hold, no grave to visit. He found the mixtape in Cas' room. It's on his nightstand now, but he cannot bring himself to play it. He hasn't listened to Led Zeppelin in weeks.

.

Jack visits one night. Sam and Eileen and Dean are sitting in the kitchen, drinking beer. Sam has just finished telling Dean about their last hunt. His arm is settled around Eileen's shoulders and he looks happy, relaxed. Dean envies them although he tries not to. They both deserve their happiness.

Jack pops into the room without warning and Dean doesn't even flinch. It's a testament to how safe he feels in the bunker, how at home.

Sam is the first one to jump up and hug Jack. It should be weird to hug God, but as Dean hugs his son -and Jack is his in everything but blood, fuck what anyone else says- it just feels right. "Missed you, kid", he mumbles as he lets go.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I had to rebuild heaven and fix everything."

Dean shakes his head and sits back down. "It's okay, Jack. We figured you'd be busy", Sam reassures him and Dean just grunts in agreement, his mind stuck on Jack's words: "Fix everything." Everything? Surely he couldn't mean-

There is a knocking on the front door and Dean's heart starts hammering in his chest. Lucifer is dead. Does this mean-

No, it can't be, can it?

He looks at Jack with wide eyes and Jack just smiles at him. "This place is still warded against angels. I offered to let him in, but-" Dean doesn't listen to the rest of Jack's words, he is already out of his seat and sprinting towards the stairs and the door.

His heart is pounding painfully and he is breathing too hard when he finally reaches it and janks the door open.

Castiel looks beautiful. Dean would be embarrassed by his thoughts, but there is really no other way to describe him. Dean can feel the angelic power radiating from him and his knees go a little weak. This really is Cas, healthy and whole and powerful again.

"Hello Dean." Cas hesitates and Dean can't really blame him, he's just been staring at the guy.

"Cas", he chokes out and steps forward, into his personal space, unsure what Cas wants. If he still wants him now that he has been restored to his former power. But there was no reason to worry, Cas flings himself forward -there's no other word for it- and Dean has his angel in his arms, clutching him tightly.

"Dean!", Cas' voice breaks, and suddenly they are both crying and Dean is trying very hard not to think about what John would say about all of this as he borrows his head in the crook of Cas' neck and struggles to breathe. Cas smells like a cool summer night before a thunderstorm and Dean shivers and presses closer.

"I'm so sorry, Cas."

Cas shushes him and his arms tighten almost painfully around Dean before he lets go and takes a step back. Dean cannot even look at him, too afraid of what he might find on his face.

"Dean." His name sounds like a prayer on Cas's lips and he squeezes his eyes shut. "Look at me." The angel cups his face and Dean is powerless to deny him anything. "What happened wasn't your fault. I made the deal, I knew the consequences. And I would do it all over again if I had to." The sound that comes out of Dean's mouth can only be subscribed as a whimper and he is suddenly very glad that Sam isn't here to witness this. "Your love doesn't corrupt, Dean. Your love saved me. You taught me how to love, how to care more and be more than I could have ever imagined. I love you."

Cas's words break Dean's heart all over again. "I love you too."

Cas smiles at him, his blue eyes warmer than they've ever been. "I know."

Dean laughs wetly and steps back into Cas' space. He doesn't know what the protocol is here. He knows that Cas has kissed people before, has had sex before -he has to breathe through the jealousy that always flares up when he thinks of Meg and that goddamn reaper- but he doesn't want to overwhelm the angel. Cas's hand is still on his cheek and he is watching Dean with a small smile. "Cas, can I-?" He hesitates, but Cas only nods and pulls him in. The angel has always been braver than him anyway.

Their first kiss is painfully gentle. Dean wants so much, but he also wants to do this right. They separate when they both start smiling too much to keep kissing. "Come on, Sam and Eileen will be thrilled to see you", Dean says after one last peck and together they enter the bunker and walk into the kitchen.

Dean knows it is very obvious that they have both been crying, but Sam doesn't even mention it. Instead, he pulls Cas close and Dean can see that his brother is losing his fight against his tears too. Dean introduces Cas to Miracle and it is love at first sight. Miracle jumps onto Cas's lap as soon as he sits down in the kitchen, despite being much too big, but Cas doesn't seem to mind. He winds an arm around the dog and smiles at Dean.

Jack stays and they catch each other up on everything. Sam and Eileen talk about their hunts with Sam occasionally translating and signing for Eileen. Jack and Cas talk about rebuilding heaven.

.

It's the first night Dean doesn't drink more than a few beers. Steady laughter rings through the bunker and Dean's heart has never felt so full. He breathes in deep and smiles. He is safe and he's home with his family. He takes Cas's hand on the table, in front of everyone and wills himself not to freak out. Nobody even bats an eyelash. He exhales slowly. He is safe. Cas squeezes his hand.

.

They are home.

.

Jack is the first one to leave, citing angel business, or well, god business, as his reason to leave. Dean waves his apology away when Jack says that he is sorry for having to leave and just gets up to hug his son. It’s the first time he lets go of Cas’s hand since taking it.

“Drop by anytime”, he says as he pulls Jack in close. “And thank you”, he says a little quieter, squeezing him a little tighter.

Jack is smiling as he lets go, looking like the kid is still is in so many ways. Dean’s heart aches in his chest.

.

Sam and Eileen say goodnight next. They are staying in the bunker overnight, but they plan on heading out early the next morning to back up Jodie on a hunt.

Dean wiggles his eyebrows at Sam as they both get up. Sam blushes, but Eileen just winks at Dean and Dean smiles. He knows that Eileen is the best thing that has happened to Sam in a while, hell, maybe even forever. He has been planning on giving Sam Mary’s old ring, but he hasn’t found a moment to bring it up yet. But he will. There is no doubt in his mind that Eileen will end up as part of their little family officially soon. She already is part of it in the ways that really count anyway.

.

Dean isn’t ready to let go of Cas’s hand yet, so he stays with Cas in the kitchen until he feels like falling asleep right then and there. He has tomorrow off so it’s not really a problem. He can sleep in. “Maybe it’s time to go to bed?”, Cas asks with an indulgent smile on his lips after Dean interrupts him with yet another yawn.

Getting up from the kitchen table, Dean realizes that he isn’t ready to ever let Cas go again. But he doesn’t know how to tell Cas what he wants, how to tell the angel to stay. He awkwardly stands there, before he just holds out his hand for Cas to take. The angel takes it with a smile and together they make their way towards Dean’s bedroom, Miracle happily running ahead.

Dean’s bedroom door is closed when they reach it. It feels significant somehow and Dean swallows nervously. He doesn’t want to push, doesn’t want to ask for too much, when Cas has already given him so much. Miracle whines and scratches at the door with a paw.

“Cas, would you-, I mean do you want to erm? Come inside? And just stay? With me I mean? Spend the night with me?”, Dean stutters his way through the question and feels silly for blushing, but Cas only keeps smiling at him.

“Of course, Dean. I will not leave unless you ask me to”, he says in that painfully sincere way Cas has and Dean feels his heart clenching again. Maybe he really should eat more rabbit food.

Dean only shakes his head. “Never again, Cas. I want you to stay with me. As long as you want to.”

Cas’s smile gets even brighter and the angel leans in for a soft kiss. “Forever then.”

There are tears in his eyes and Dean can feel his own eyes burning. “Forever it is.”

The moment is cheesy, and he is painfully aware of how cheesy it is, but he cannot stop smiling. Dean is just so happy. He pushes his bedroom door open and Miracle immediately runs to the dog bed Dean bought a few days ago and flops down with a happy huff.

“I know you don’t sleep, so you don’t have to stay here with me the entire night, I mean it must get really boring, but I would sleep better if you, you know-“ Dean feels like an awkward teenager as he tries to tell Cas to stay with him until he has fallen asleep. And it’s not helping that Cas is quietly laughing at him.

“Dean Winchester, are you asking me to watch you sleep?”, the angel teases and closes the distance between them again and suddenly they are standing really close in the middle of Dean’s bedroom. Dean swallows, very aware of his bed being right there. His eyes flicker down to Cas’s lips, he cannot help it.

“Don’t act like you haven’t been dying to watch me sleep.” He goes for cocky, but his voice comes out breathy and rough. Dean licks his lips and smirks as he hears Cas’s breath catch. “Cas”, he starts, but then hesitates. Cas’s hands have found their way to his hips, a reassuring and comforting weight and they are standing so close, Dean can almost taste him.

“What do you want, Dean?”, Cas asks gently, stroking his thumbs over his hip bones.

“Everything”, Dean breathes and then flushes. “Whatever you are willing to give me.”

Cas’s smile turns a little sad at his words and for a moment Dean worries that he fucked this up already, that he ruined them before they have really begun, but then Cas speaks: “You selfless idiot.” He huffs a little laugh. “You have no idea how much I want you, do you? How long I’ve had to hold myself back from touching you?” Cas titles his head in that puppy way Dean still remembers fondly, his brow furrowing. “I want to give you everything.”

Desire rushes white-hot through Dean. He feels like he’s been sucker-punched, but there is no lie in Cas’s eyes. Dean knew that the angel loved him, but to hear that he also wants him, has wanted him for so long-

That is an entirely different feeling.

He reels Cas in and smashes their lips together, without any technique or finesse. He just knows that he needs Cas closer and he needs it now.

Cas huffs against his lips and gentles the kiss, his hands wandering to Dean’s back, stroking soothingly up and down, calming some of the fire in Dean’s veins. Dean follows Cas’s lead and softens his grip and Cas’s arms. “We have time”, Cas says gently as they break apart to breathe.

Dean smiles, takes his hand again, and leads him to bed.

They are safe, they are home, and Cas isn’t leaving.

They have time.

[irrlicht-writes]

the path we choose to walk on pt.3

Part 3! still not the last part. But I’m getting close! Note to mention: there is death here. But it’s not permanent. Okay? It gets worse before it gets better. @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @cass-said-i-love-you @professorerudite @insertdeeplyrics anyone else want on the tag list?

PART ONE | PART TWO

Ao3

PART 3: a soul as gentle as a star

Dean is sobbing. He can’t stop. Cas has been sick for a whole week already and still, Jack has not shown up. Dean had to shoo Miracle out of the room because he’s afraid that she’s going to get sick too.

Dean doesn’t know what to do. There’s a fever running through Castiel and no matter what Dean does, it won’t go down. The few times that Cas is awake, he’s puking up his guts over the toilet – all black goo and Dean’s heart breaks. Cas is crying before he passes out again and Dean can’t help. Cas is losing weight and it’s hard to even get him to drink water. Jack doesn’t come.

He pets Castiel’s hair and whispers sweet nothings into his ear. Cas never responds and Dean cries in his damp hair. What’s he supposed to do? He can barely eat food himself. The only thing keeping him from breaking down completely is Miracle because she’ll remind him of feeding her and walking her and honestly, Dean is glad for the temporary distraction she provides.

“Cas,” he says and Cas whimpers.

“Cas, baby, please come back to me.”

His fever goes up.

 A month later, it’s not better. Dean only functions whenever Miracle forces him to. It’s been a while since Cas woke up to puke. Dean tries not to dwell on it. He spends his days laying in bed next to Cas, staring at a wall in silence. The only sound is Cas’ shallow breathing and Dean doesn’t know what to do.

He hasn’t really gotten Cas back and now he’s about to lose him again.

Why has Jack not shown up?

Doesn’t he care about them anymore?

He’s always said that he considered Cas to be his father, but does he just stop caring like that?

“Jack,” Dean whispers into the void, “please.”

Nobody answers him.

Castiel’s chest rattles.

 A week later, Sam shows up. Dean has been trying to pretend that everything was going fine, just to avoid Sam coming here. Maybe he shouldn’t have given his brother a key.

“Dean,” Sam says sternly and Dean can barely lift his head. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s eaten something. He hopes he didn’t neglect Miracle too much.

“He’s sick, Sammy,” he rasps and Sam’s expression softens. He walks over to the bed and feels Cas’ temperature.

“Dean,” he says, “we have to bring him to a hospital.”

Dean shakes his head. “He’s an angel.”

“He needs help.”

Sam doesn’t understand. Dean’s afraid that they will understand that Cas isn’t human and take him away. They’ll take him away and Dean will never get to see him again and they’re going to conduct experiments on him and Cas won’t understand and he’ll be in pain and Dean wouldn’t be able to save him because he can’t overthrow the government and Cas will think that Dean gave him to these people and he’ll resent Dean and wish him the worst and wish he’d never pull Dean out of hell –

“Dean, breathe.”

Dean sobs loudly and starts to cry. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to do.

“Please, let me take care of you. Of both of you.”

Dean sobs and doesn’t argue. He can’t. He can’t do it anymore. If he loses Cas again, then – then...

Who knows what he’ll do.

*

“Your friend doesn’t have long.”

Dean barely understands the doctor. Castiel is filled up with that black goo stuff – his lungs, his stomach, everything. Jack still doesn’t show. Cas is dying, again, and Jack doesn’t care. It’s almost like there’s no change at all.

If Jack doesn’t even want to save his father, what good is he?

They give Cas an infusion. Sam asks if Dean can get one too but he refuses. He’s fine. He doesn’t need any help. He just wants to sit here, next to Cas and be with him until the very end. Just like last time. Dean reaches for Cas’ hand and holds it loosely in his own.

“I’m here,” he whispers, “I’m here.”

It’s empty. These words mean nothing. Dean hangs his head.

In the end, it didn’t matter.

 Two days later, Castiel dies.

 *

 Dean has pamphlets. They gave him pamphlets but he hasn’t looked at them. He sits on his bed and stares out of the window. Sam has Miracle. Dean told him to take her. Castiel is in the morgue.

Why did this happen?

Why didn’t Jack come?

Dean prayed to him every waking second.

Why did Jack ignore him? Hands off or not – this is his father.

Dean doesn’t understand.

It makes no sense.

Maybe this is a dream. A terrible, terrible nightmare and Dean just has to find a way to wake up.

He remembers the nightmare djinns. It must be like that, right? Everything is just a dream and he just has to wake up.

Die.

He has to die to wake up.

And when he does, Cas’ll be there and he’ll be worried and hug him and Dean’ll hug him back and everything will be okay again.

Cas won’t be dead, then.

Dean gets up from the bed.

He walks over to the window and opens it. He bends forward and looks down. It would be quite the fall. But it’s going to be worth it. Down there, Cas will be waiting for him. If he imagines hard enough, then he can almost see Cas standing down there with open arms.

Dean smiles.

He’s safe.

His angel will catch him.

His angel will always catch him.

Dean closes his eyes.

His hands are shaking.

“Cas,” he whispers.

No matter what, at the end Cas will be there.

“Dean,” someone says and stops him.

He turns around.

“Jack.”

 *

 Dean steps away from the window and he can only stare. Jack is here. Why is Jack here now, when it’s pointless?

“I’m sorry,” Jack starts and Dean swallows down his anger. He wants to yell, he wants to scream and he wants to grab this kid and shake him. But he doesn’t. At least the kid looks guilty.

“Why didn’t you come sooner?” His voice is hoarse and Dean’s glad he didn’t yell. His voice would’ve given out.

“I heard you, I did, I swear. But Dean, I can’t fix the Empty. So I tried, I looked how to help Cas. I care about him, Dean, he’s my father. But I didn’t want to come here without a solution. If I would’ve come and would’ve said I can’t do anything, you would’ve lost hope immediately. I’m – I’m sorry that I’m late. But we can fix this, Dean. Look.”

Jack is holding something in his hands. He opens them somewhat so that Dean can take a peek. It’s glowing and Dean doesn’t know what it is.

“It’s a soul,” Jack says, “well, at least as much as I can make.”

Dean frowns.

“It will help Cas to battle the goo inside of him. The Empty has no dominion over souls, you know?”

Dean shakes his head. “Jack, he’s dead.”

Jack clenches his jaw. “And that’s why we save him.”

Dean looks at Jack’s hands. A soul. He doesn’t know what that means for Cas but if Jack is so sure it’ll save him... why shouldn’t they try?

It’s not like Cas could get anymore dead.

So he nods.

“Let’s go, then.”

 *

 It’s surprisingly easy to break into the morgue. Apparently they don’t really guard their dead and well – your kid being God probably helps too. Dean gets an uneasy feeling in this place. Cas is in one of these, dead. His hands start shaking again. But he has to pull through. For Cas.

For Cas.

With shaky legs, Dean walks over to the one that says “Castiel Winchester” on it and opens it. He takes a deep breath and pulls the gurney out. He closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to look. He doesn’t want to see Cas all pale; all dead. He doesn’t think he could take it.

“Dean,” Jack says and Dean’s eyes snap to him. He’s holding out his hands.

“It’s got to be you,” he says and on auto-pilot, Dean reaches out and takes this soul Jack is offering him. It feels warm in his hands. It feels a little bit like a baby bird.

“Cas,” he says and he feels as if the soul in his end flickers. “Come back to me.”

He holds his hands over Castiel’s chest, looking at Jack who nods. Dean nods back and presses the soul inside.

 First, nothing happens and Dean wants to panic. He looks at Jack who’s frowning.

No no no no no no no this isn’t good. It’s not working, it’s not working –

Castiel tears his eyes open and he’s gasping for air, heaving dryly. Dean chokes down a sob, but Castiel grabs his own chest as if he’s struggling to breathe and his blue eyes fly to Jack. The kid just shakes his head and takes Castiel’s hand in his own.

“Fight it, Cas. I know you can do this. You’re stronger than it. You’re the only angel in all of existence that ever walked out of the Empty of his own will. Out of his own might. The Empty has no power over you – it never had. Why do you think it hated you so much?

It was afraid of you, Cas, because it knew only you could ever walk away from a confrontation. You’re the angel that defied and defied and defied again. The Empty can’t hold you. It never could. You were awake, and you found your own way out. Do you even know how much power that takes? How much will? And you did it.

You did this, with no help, no assistance, and you survived. The Empty followed you outside and you overpowered it. It tried to drag you down, again and again, but you kept fighting and you kept winning. I can only ever hope to be as strong as you, Cas.

You are Free Will. You’ve always been. Without you – without you, Chuck would’ve determined the ending. But he didn’t. Because you made us believe that we can choose our own path. That we can choose who we want to be.

You’re stronger than the Empty, Cas. It cannot defeat you.

You loved me, you believed in me, you supported me when I didn’t deserve it. You explained the world to me; and you made me see that it’s worth loving. The way you’d talk about a roadside flower and what a miracle it is, I – I saw the little things. I saw the things that make the world what it is. It’s not about the big battles, the big wins or even the big losses – it’s about the things you never appreciate. The roadside flower, the leaves on the trees or the rustling of the wind.

And with – with everything you said, I realised – I realised that you thought... that you believed you were lesser than these things. That the dirt on the ground deserved better than you. You praised everything – Sam, Dean, me, the world – but never yourself. You are the guy I look up to most because – because you’re so kind, and caring and full of love. I heard – I heard the birds sing and thought they must be singing about you. I saw flowers bloom and I thought they must be doing this for you.

You are so good, and so kind and I – I will make a world that appreciates you. I will make a world in which you are loved, unconditionally.

I love you, Cas. I’m sorry it took me so long.

The Empty can’t take you away from me. I won’t let it. You crawled your way back here again and again, and I will make sure that you’re rewarded.

You taught me I can choose my own destiny. That I can choose my own path. And you told me that I will forever be loved, no matter what. And you did. No matter what I did, you loved me. You loved me unconditionally, and I never appreciated it. I took it for granted but then I realised – you were never loved like that. You were never – you were never told that you are loved. But I do.

I do, and Sam does, and Dean does and so many more. You, of all people, deserve the world. And I’ll give it to you.

I love you, Cas. I’ll say it now, and I’ll say it a hundred times. You are loved, Castiel, now and forever.

And whatever sins you believe you committed – sins that you believe that cannot be forgiven – I give you absolution.

You are forgiven, Castiel. You were always forgiven.

I love you. I love you so, so much.

I can be God, I am, but... I can’t do it without you. What if I stop looking at the small things? What if I end up like Chuck? I need you, Cas. I need you to remind me of a fallen leaf, of a newborn bird. I need you to remind me of the wonders of the world.

You were always fighting. And most times, the enemy was yourself and nobody of us helped you. You’re stronger than I could ever hope to be.

You’re my father, Cas. Sam and Dean are so, so important to me, but – I’d pick you, every time. Now and forever, I will always pick you.”

 Castiel squeezes Jack’s hand. “All I ever wanted,” he rasps, “is for you to be happy.”

 *

 “He’ll never fully recover,” Jack says after he got them all home. Dean holds Castiel tight to his chest. The angel is asleep but his breath isn’t rattling this time. He looks at Jack, unblinking.

“The soul,” Jack starts, “will help. But Dean, you have to understand that when Castiel made it out of the Empty, he took death with him. It’s not going to let him go. The – the sheer might it must’ve taken him to survive as long as he did, I...”

Jack stops and looks to the ground.

“I could never hope to be as strong as that. But now with the soul, his grace can draw strength from it. But it’s a weak soul. It’s... it’s just an imitation, but it’ll hold. He’ll get better; and in time, he’ll be walking around again.”

Jack turns and looks at them.

“He’s essentially human now, Dean. Not in the sense that he’ll die from old age, but in the terms that he needs to eat and sleep. He’ll probably get sick a lot, but he’ll be fine.”

“The black goo will never go away?”

Jack shakes his head.

“No. But with the soul, his grace is strong enough to keep it in check and keep all the internal organs working. I – I have to go now. But I’ll drop in whenever I can. Say hi to Sam for me and – tell Maria about me, too, okay? I’m excited to meet her someday soon.”

Jack smiles brightly and holds his hand up in a wave. “Bye, Dean,” he says and disappears.

Dean lets out a deep breath and gently places Castiel on the bed. Castiel is breathing quietly and really, Dean should call Sam and tell him but he’s just so tired.

When he crawls into bed next to Cas, he thinks about the people at the hospital. He forgot to ask Jack to remove their memories. It would work out, though, right? Cas is alive and he’s home and now he’s finally gonna get better.

Dean snuggles up next to Cas and vows to call Sam tomorrow. They’ll sort it out together. But right now, the only thing that matters is Castiel’s soft breathing and the knowledge that a soul shimmers inside him.

 *

 “I missed this,” Cas says when Dean opens his eyes. He’s been awake for a while at this point, but he had wanted to enjoy Castiel playing with his hair. It feels nice.

“You never played with my hair before,” Dean replies.

“No, but I missed watching you sleep. It’s very calming.”

Castiel’s voice sounds tired, but it doesn’t seem to pain him like it did before. Dean is glad. Now everything would work out. And even if Cas would be bedridden for the rest of Dean’s life, then that is okay too.

“You can watch me sleep forever then.”

Castiel laughs a bit but he ends in some light coughing.

“This goo,” Dean wonders, “will you really never be rid of it?”

Cas sighs. “No. I figure being in Heaven would help me. I might be able to get rid of it if I was able to tap into Heaven’s energy reserves, but I don’t want to go there now. The soul Jack made for me is going to suffice until it inevitability runs out.”

“It will run out?”

“Yes. All souls do, eventually, and this one even more so. I figure that after it’s done – it will just disappear. But by this point, decades should’ve passed and I’ll be able to go to Heaven.”

“You can’t go now?”

“Why would I?” Castiel replies while smiling against Dean’s hair. “Last I checked, you’re not in Heaven, and won’t be for a very long time. I’d rather be here with you, then waiting for you in Heaven.”

Damn, now Dean’s blushing.

 Sam’s a bit upset when Dean calls him. He’s wanted to see Jack too, and he’s also worried about the hospital staff. Nobody’s called Dean yet so Dean has hope that Jack made them forget.

“Cas is alive,” Dean says because he thinks that maybe Sam didn’t hear him properly the first time.

“I... yes. You said, I just... I can’t believe it. I didn’t even think... it’s amazing. How... how is he doing? Is he conscious? Can he talk at all?”

“Yeah. Jack said he’s probably gonna be sick for the rest of his life, but he’ll be able to move around again.”

Dean is in his kitchen; and Cas is asleep in the bed. It feels surreal. It feels like someone’s gonna pinch him in the arm and wake him up and then Cas is still gonna be dead and they’re still in the hunting life and then they go on a hunt just for one of them to die.

But that’s not gonna happen.

Their hunting days are finally over.

“Can we come over?”

Dean looks around. Them coming here might be better than hauling Cas into the car. Cas just came back so he might get tired more easily.

“Only if you bring the dog. I don’t think Cas has properly met her yet and that’s a crime.”

Over the line, Sam laughs. “Yes, we’ll bring the dog. We’ll be there in about half an hour. Prepare to hold a crying baby, Dean.”

“Oh, it just feels like yesterday when I was wiping your dirty ass.”

Sam hangs up and Dean grins.

There’s hope for a future in his heart and for the first time, he’s not afraid of it. Things will get better and they’ll start getting better now.

 Cas made it to the couch when Sam and Eileen arrive. As per Sam’s promise, Maria is crying her heart out and Dean feels sorry for Sam. Eileen, God bless her, probably doesn’t hear the crying too much. Dean guesses it’s Sam who gets up in the middle of the night, judging by his face. Dean grins and bends down to greet Miracle. Man, he’s missed her.

“Cas,” Sam says and Cas responds in kind. In the corner of his eye, Dean can see that Cas tries to get up from the couch but decides against it in the last moment.

Eileen walks right over and plops herself and her baby next to him. “Your niece,” she says and Cas smiles at the baby who stopped crying when she spotted Cas.

“Hello, Maria,” Cas says. Maria blinks in his direction and after some thought, reaches out for him.

Cas takes her easily and puts her in his lap.

“Have you been keeping for father up?”

Maria wiggles her arms.

“You know, for all I missed, I’m glad Jack decided to skip the toddler phase. I wonder what happened to all the diapers I bought. My doula classes were very unhelpful with my son but they might come in handy with you, hm?”

Maria smiles brightly and starts whipping in Cas’ lap.

“Hm. I guess I can be Big Blue if you want.” He boops her nose. “But then you have to be Little Cutie.”

Maria blinks at him, then laughs and claps her hands. She turns her head to her mom and brabbles to her and Eileen just smiles.  

“You speak Baby, Cas?” Sam asks and Cas turns his head.

“No. Babies don’t use words like we do; it’s more of a... sense. A feeling if you will. They can’t think in complete sentences yet. It’s along the lines of Sad because hungry. Upset because dirty. Happy because play. Happy because friend. Like that.”

Cas smiles and lifts Maria up and she giggles.

“Guess she found a friend in you, huh?”

“That she did.”

 *

 Dean isn’t surprised when Castiel and Miracle get along splendidly. As soon as the dog warms up to the angel, Dean is permanently degraded to giver of food and honestly, he’s not even mad at that. Miracle keeps Cas company when Dean has to go to work and they even go on walks together – never very far in the beginning because Cas still has to get his legs under him but the important bit is that Miracle makes Cas leave the bed or the couch.

There are days, sometimes more and sometimes less, where Castiel is sad. Dean knows that that word is probably an understatement, but he doesn’t want to call it depression – it’s too big of a word and Dean’s afraid of it.

There are days when Castiel’s body just refuses everything and anything. Cas doesn’t want to see or hear Dean on these days and Dean respects that. He wants to be there, but his presence is upsetting Cas way too much.

Cas isn’t used to being sick and somewhere deep down Dean thinks he remembers. Cas needs to be useful. And on these days, he’s not useful at all. But Dean doesn’t know how to tell Cas that it’s okay. He doesn’t know how to make Cas understand that he doesn’t have to be useful. No words that Dean could come up with seem good enough for him. So he stays silent and he knows it’s not the right thing to do.

Cas gets sick at least one time a month, sometimes more. He’s always sick for at least two days, battling fever and puking up goo. Dean’s terrified every single time.

“I’m fine,” Cas says every time and Dean wants to believe him.

I love you, he wants to tell him but he’s afraid.

He’s not sure what he’s afraid of.

Cas cries at night sometimes and Dean pretends not to hear.

Cas has nightmares sometimes and Dean sleeps on the couch.

He doesn’t understand himself.

“Dean,” Cas says one day just after his bad days ended.

“I know you don’t love me. It’s alright. I’ve accepted that. It doesn’t change what I feel, how I feel. You are – I’ve never met someone like you. There have been others that have fascinated me, but – but I’ve only ever watched them from a distance. I was never inclined to come closer, to get to know them, to have them know me. I was content just watching them from afar, learning about them and studying them from my high perch.

But you –

I wasn’t supposed to get involved. I was supposed to tell you your part in the Apocalypse and then I was – I guess I was supposed to die.  But you were, well, you and it made me rethink. I wondered if you were right, if people could actually choose their own destinies.

And Sam – Sam as the Boyking of Hell, the true vessel of Lucifer, I expected him to be evil, I expected him to be malicious, but he wasn’t. Sam was good and kind and brave and the small spot of darkness was a stain on him, but then he’s only human and it didn’t even matter.

And I saw that I was wrong and I thought – I thought maybe Dean is right. Maybe this is a story we can choose for ourselves.

Maybe this could be a story that doesn’t end with humanity wiped out. Maybe this is a story that ends differently as it was foretold. I wanted to believe. I wanted to have faith in what you said and – and so I did.

I know you never had faith in me, but I had faith in you and – I never really stopped. People getting to choose their own lives, their own destinies, their own ends – it just had never been in the cards. Everything had always served a bigger plan; always aiming to getting closer to the one true end when there was so much more.

I’ve had people believe in me; when in the same breath they defied God himself. You’re here, they’d say, he is not.

And they were right. I was there; and he was not. I always wondered if our path was the right one – after all, who’d stop us if we were wrong? We’d listen to no one but God himself, so who would’ve been able to halt us in our wake? But still, I followed my orders and whenever I saw fit, I’d tweak them, just a little.

I’d let a child go. I’d give an old man a few more minutes to say good-bye. I’d save the mother giving birth. I’d do these things and I got punished for them and I’d falter. What if I did something wrong? What if I altered the big plan? What if the ending would never come as it had been planned? And maybe –

Maybe it didn’t. Maybe the mother I saved changed something. Maybe the old man saying good-bye gave closure to someone. Maybe the child I let go grew up to influence someone they were never meant to meet. Who can tell?

I realised something so small can change the world. Maybe it won’t change the world as a whole but someone’s world will be different.

But the point is: I went against my orders and every time, I got punished for it. And then I met you, and you went against your orders and I couldn’t see you getting punished. And I thought, maybe you had the right path. Maybe wrong decisions get punished and right decisions do not. So I decided to follow you. I decided to follow the path you were carving.

And then you left the path, so I decided to keep walking on it because to me, it was the right path to take. And I was right. Every time I got punished, I knew I was doing the right thing. They were wrong; and I was right.

They wanted to reverse me, they wanted to change me by any means possible but I didn’t let them. Even when they succeeded, I didn’t let them take you away from me. You allowed me to change, Dean, you allowed me to be who I’m really meant to be. And for that –

For that, I’ll forever be grateful. I was right. There was a better way and they were proven wrong. I’m – maybe I’m still defective. Maybe I’ll always be wrong, and broken, and useless. But if that’s who I am, then – then so be it.

I am – I was always ashamed of myself. Why couldn’t I be like the others? Why couldn’t I follow orders like them? Why was I so different? And no matter how hard I tried, no matter what I did, I – I was always the outsider. The one that didn’t belong, not really, and –

And when I was with you, that didn’t change. I was still the outsider, I was still different. Not in the same way, sure, but still, I didn’t belong. I’ll never do. I’ll never belong anywhere, because maybe there’s no place for me after all.

But – I wasn’t supposed to be here at all. I was supposed to be dead. I’ve died again and again and I came back, again and again because – because I wasn’t done yet. There’s still more. It made me think that maybe I have a purpose. That I have a reason for living, no matter how small it might be. And I always wanted –

I always wanted to make you feel safe. I always wanted to be the guy you could trust in. I wanted you to call me, I wanted you to need me. I needed you to want me, but maybe you never did and that’s okay.

I’m here now. And once I’m – once I’m better, I’ll be on my way. I’ll find something to do. I’ll find a place where I can be useful but until I’m strong enough for that – maybe it’s okay if I stay a little bit longer?”

There’s something here, Dean knows that. There’s something here he’s supposed to say, some clever line, some heartfelt comment, but – but he doesn’t know.

Dean hears I don’t want to go.

So he says: “I don’t want you to go.”

And maybe that was the right thing to say after all.

[shadowywerewolfqueen]

Music

“I can’t believe I let you convince me to come to this thing with you. I mean seriously, when have I ever listened to anything besides classic rock?” Dean grumbled as he followed his brother to their seats in the large concert hall.

“Oh, quit bitching,” Sam whispered angrily. “It’s Eileen’s last concert before she goes on maternity leave and you promised her you would come see one of her performances. Trust me, you don’t want to be on her bad side right now. I told her to wait a minute before I got her juice and she made me sleep on the couch for three nights.”

Dean smirked as they took their seats. “She’s got you whipped man.”

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother’s mocking. “When you get married, you’ll understand.”

“Hardly,” Dean scoffed. “Last time I checked, guys can’t get pregnant, so I won’t have to worry about a pregnant partner with random food cravings. I mean seriously, jelly dipped grapefruit slices have to be one of the most disgusting food combos ever. Even I wouldn’t eat that.”

“Whatever. Like the saying goes, people do crazy things when they’re in love. You just wait,” Sam said with a grin.

Before Dean could argue, the lights dimmed and focused on the stage. Since Sam was Eileen’s husband, they had special front row seats for family only. Dean watched with little interest as the orchestra members walked onto the stage. He saw Eileen carrying her violin and gave her a thumbs up when she looked in his direction. Dean groaned inwardly as more and more people crowded onto the stage. He never fathomed an orchestra would be so big.

His eyes were lazily gazing around him, waiting for the concert to start when suddenly his attention was snagged. Leading a row of orchestra members was the most gorgeous man Dean had ever laid eyes on. He had messy black hair that refused to be tamed. His face was square with high cheekbones and a strong jaw and Dean wanted to know what those lips felt like against his. He was tall, at least six foot with a lithe muscular build. Dean raked his eyes down the man’s body and nearly drooled at the thick thighs that were encased by the black dress pants he wore. Dean felt the breath leave his body as the man’s eyes quickly glanced at him before facing the front again. They were stunning blue sapphires that sparkled in the low light and Dean was already lost in their depths.

Dean refused to look away from the gorgeous man. He watched as the man settled in his chair before pulling a large stringed instrument towards him. Dean was mesmerized by the nimble fingers that ghosted over the strings, being careful to make a single noise. He stared as the man flipped through his music and imagined what those fingers would feel like trailing over his body. He shivered in anticipation.

Sam elbowed him lightly. “Dude, are you ok?”

Dean swallowed dryly. “Yeah, I’m good Sammy. I totally gotta get that guy’s number. Maybe Eileen could help a brother-in-law out.”

Sam looked to at the man that Dean was still staring at. He snorted before saying, “Good luck. That’s Castiel and according to Eileen, refuses to date anyone and everyone. He’s solely focused on his music and says he doesn’t have time for frivolous relationships.”

“Yeah, well he ain’t ever met me yet! I won’t be frivolous, hell, I’ll give him a hundred reasons to be with me if you know what I mean?” Dean wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Ugh, gross,” Sam huffed. “You can try, but I’ll be here to pick up the pieces when Cas turns you down.”

“Whatever bitch, just you wait and see. Cas is gonna be mine,” Dean argued.

“I’ll give you a hundred bucks if you get Cas to go on more than three dates with you,” Sam challenged.

“Deal! It’ll be like taking candy from a baby.” Dean smirked.

The men fell silent as the conductor held his hands up and the whole orchestra readied themselves. Dean jumped when the next sound was the loud bang of a drum. His eyes glued in on Cas and they never left. Dean hardly heard the music, his gaze so intent on the man in front of him.

They had gone through three songs and Dean couldn’t recall what a single one of them sounded like when Castiel suddenly stood up and moved towards the front of the stage. Dean’s gaze followed him like a hungry wolf stalking it’s prey.

“I would like to introduce our very own Castiel Novak. He will now perform a solo that he has written himself for the very first time. I know all of you will be blown away by his talent and skill.” The crowd applauded lightly as Castiel took a lone seat in front of the rest of the orchestra.

For the first time that night, Dean listened to the music being played. Cas’s fingers moved gracefully, making the instrument sing. The notes that echoed throughout the hall told a heart wrenching story. They described a man who was looking for love but had no idea how to find it. The tune was slow and melodic, and Dean was captured in its sad embrace. The minor chords resonated through the air and Dean felt a single tear roll down his cheek. Once the last eerie note had floated through the air, the crowd erupted into applause.

Dean jumped to his feet, his hands stinging with the force of his clapping. He watched as Castiel bowed deeply a few times before picking his instrument up and walking back to his original seat. He glanced at Dean again and flashed a small smile in his direction. Dean felt his heart beat faster at the minute gesture.

The rest of the concert was a blur as Dean only had eyes and ears for Castiel. When it was over and the orchestra stood for their final bows, Dean clapped along with everyone else. His eyes tracked Cas for as long as possible until the man walked out of sight off the stage. Dean sighed heavily, hoping he would get a chance to talk to him.

“So, what did you think?” Sam asked as they waited for Eileen.

Dean shrugged, “It was better than I thought it was going to be. Still prefer my classic rock but this wasn’t half bad.”

“Well, I’ll count that as a win in my book,” Sam said before walking around his brother and pulling his wife into a hug. “Congrats pumpkin, you did so good tonight! I’m so proud of you.”

Dean watched his brother and sister-in-law with fondness. Eileen was a perfect match for Sam in every way. After years of trying, they were finally pregnant and Dean couldn’t wait to meet his niece who was due in a few weeks. He pulled her in for a tight hug and congratulated her on a wonderful performance.

“Psh, you didn’t hear her. You were too focused on Castiel,” Sam interjected.

Dean felt his cheeks heat up as he glared at his brother. “Shut up bitch. I was not!”

Sam snorted. “Yeah you were. I bet you couldn’t even describe any of the music tonight besides his solo.”

“Well, I would love to hear him describe it,” a deep voice rumbled from behind them.

Dean spun around to find the gorgeous musician standing a few feet away. Up close, Castiel was even more gorgeous and Dean couldn’t suppress the small whimper that escaped his throat. He felt the blush staining his cheeks deepen. “Uh, hi,” Dean croaked.

Castiel’s lips spread in a small grin. “Hello. My name is Castiel. From what Eileen has told me, you are Dean.”

“Uh, yeah. I’m Dean and the moose behind me is Sam,” Dean explained as he held his hand out.

Castiel’s palm was warm and smooth as he shook Dean’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Dean. Would you please tell me what you thought of my solo? I heard that you prefer classic rock and I must say I’m curious as to what you thought about such a different genre of music.”

Dean rubbed at the back of his neck nervously. “Uh, well, it was haunting and sad for one. I mean I had a tear rolling down my cheek by the end of it. I’m not usually a fan of slow songs but there’s no other tempo that song could have. And, um- I mean, well, I’m sorry that you haven’t found the person you’re looking for.”

Castiel tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

Dean dropped his gaze, afraid he had said something wrong. “Well, the whole point of the song is about being lonely and how you want to find love but don’t know how, right? That’s why it was so dark and gloomy because you’re lost, and you don’t know how to find your way. Since the song ended on such a long eerie note, I’m assuming you haven’t found what you’re looking for and you’re calling out to anybody who will listen.”

It was silent and Dean finally looked up. Sam and Eileen were staring at him like he had grown a second head while Cas looked like he was close to tears. Dean felt his stomach tie itself in knots. He wanted to ask the musician on a date but instead he had offended him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean,” Dean started to say.

“Stop,” Cas ordered as he stepped closer. He reached out and hovered his palm over Dean’s cheek. “You just described that song perfectly. Writing it was very difficult for me because of how much of myself I put into it. You’re right, I am lonely, and I wish I wasn’t but nobody has been able to alleviate that loneliness.”

Dean wanted to kick himself for his next words. “I thought you didn’t do relationships and were focused on your music.”

The corner of Cas’ mouth quirked up. “That’s what I tell people to try and hide how I truly feel. Besides, no person I’ve ever met has been able to describe my music the way you just did. I would be honored if you would go on a date with me.”

Dean’s eyes were saucers as he stared in shock at the man in front of him. “Are you serious?” Castiel nodded. Dean shifted his head, so Cas’ palm rested lightly against his cheek. “I’m free now.”

Cas’ face split into a large gummy smile. “Let me go grab my things and then I will be right back.”

Dean watched him walk off before turning to Sam and Eileen. He smirked at his brother as he said, “There’s one date. Three more and you owe me a hundred bucks.”

Eileen gasped. “You guys are betting on Cas!”

Sam wrapped an arm around her waist and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Dean fell heads over heels the moment he saw Cas, but I told him he’d never have a chance. I bet him a hundred bucks if he could get Cas to go on more than three dates with him.”

“Trust me, I’m not messing with Cas. I really want to get to know him, money or no money,” Dean said hastily, wanting to stay on Eileen’s good side.

She eyed him warily and warned him not to hurt Cas but otherwise wished them the best of luck. She never had to worry because Dean treated Cas like he hung the moon. He did, in fact, end up going on more than three dates with Cas. It was a whirlwind kind of romance and two years later they were married. At their wedding, Cas played a brand-new song for Dean.

Dean was in tears by the end of it because this song was different than the first solo he heard from Cas. This song wasn’t sad and dark but light and jovial. This song was about a man who had been searching for love and had finally found it. It told the story of an epic romance that was just beginning.

Tagging: @lonewolf34500 @notwithd @multifandom-fanatic @flowersforcas @cockleslovesdestiel