#or are hellhounds able to do this?

[hanafubukki]

Summary: In which, Lilia can hear your thoughts but doesn't tell you.

An accidental potion mishap with Grim led to some interesting side effects. While you didn't seem affected at all by the fluid spilled on you, Lilia, on the other hand, was the opposite.

He covered his smile with his sleeve.

This will be fun.

Lilia curled his legs around Silver before slamming him to the floor.

“It’s not fair! It should have been me! Me!”

Lilia quickly buried his face into Silver’s shoulder.

“Father?”

“Khufufu~ it’s nothing.”

Lilia always loved his get togethers at Diasomnia’s lounge. It was entertaining to see how the residents were behaving.

Today was no different.

You had shown up with Sebek, planning to study for your upcoming exam.

Sebek’s grilling you on various important figures, but what would make it more entertaining…if he just moved his arms and…

“I shouldn’t have come here. He’s too cute. I won’t be able to focus! Was that his stomach?? Someone save me. Oh Great Sevens.”

Lilia finished his stretching before hiding his laughter against Malleus’ arm.

“Lilia?”

“Nothing to worry about Malleus.”

Malleus stares at him before looking at the pair on the other side. He closed his eyes, taking a sip of his coffee, “As you say.”

“Damn it, why is his laughter hot?”

“I have rarely wanted to be stepped on in my life, but I’ll make an exception for him.”

Lilia almost tripped as that thought suddenly invaded his mind. How rare. He hasn’t floundered in such a way since his early 200s.

“YN~”

He twirled around to face you. Your shocked expression has his lips twitching into a smirk.

“How did he-”

“Hi, Lilia. How are you?”

You trying so hard to keep a calm expression gave him a feeling of satisfaction.

“May Sebek never find out that I want to fuck his greatest mentor. I will literally never hear the end of it.”

Up high in the balcony seating of NRC cafeteria, the students of Diasomnia slowly edged away from a certain table.

Their respected Vice Dorm leader stared at his lunch with a maniacal look.

“Ahhhh stay away from me! What do you mean you could hear my thoughts?!”

“Come now Dearest~ I want to have a chat~”

“No! Tsunootarooouu put me to sleep for a thousand years! I can’t live like this!”

Staff and students watched as their Prefect ran away as if hellhounds were on their heels. With the devious smirk on one Lilia Vanrouge’s face? There might as well be.

The simping is strong today ☺️💞, okay but seriously, these are actual thoughts I’ve had before with Lilia 😂💚🌺

[cyanide-siren]

wake up, baby

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: You get severely injured and end up in a coma. Dean visits you every day and realizes how he took you for granted and regrets not doing certain things when he still could.

Warnings: Angst with happy ending.

☆☆

One day after the hunt

When Dean first arrived to the hospital and saw you lying on the hospital bed, attached to a heart monitor, his heart sank and he couldn't breathe for a moment. The sight in front of him what he had been feared from the day he had started to care for you. No, ever since he had met you. Deep down, he knew this was going to happen at some point, but he still hadn't prepared himself for this.

While you were in the surgery, Dean had been sure that you were going to die. Your injuries were too severe to survive from them, the blood loss was way too big. The hit on your head would surely leave a permanent brain damage. Dean wasn't a doctor and hadn't participated in the surgery, of course not, so he hadn't diagnosed the actual damages your body took – but he saw the entire thing right in front of him.

Dean had carried you in his arms to the hospital, his shirt stained by your blood. He hadn't cleaned it, only threw it straight into a trash can when he had been able to change a new shirt.

But now here you were, heart beating and state currently stable. Although, you were in a coma and there was a little chance that you'd ever wake up. According to the doctor, extremely little.

But there was still a chance. Dean had to hold on to that short piece of strand of the chance to keep himself from losing his mind.

If Castiel was here, he could cure and heal you in a heartbeat – surely he could, right? But Cas was nowhere to be found, no matter how much Dean tried to pray for him to come.

☆☆

Three days after the hunt

Dean hadn't slept properly since the day you ended up in the hospital. He couldn't. Every time he closed his eyes, he couldn't get the picture of you out of his mind. You dying and not being there for him ever again.

Your state hadn't progressed to neither better or worse.

Dean had kept praying for Castiel to come and heal you countless of times. For his surprise, Castiel did arrive to him one time. However, he was unable to heal you, having his powers temporarily cut off. What a great timing. Dean's only hope was gone. Of course the doctors did the best they could in this difficult and hopeless situation but it wasn't enough.

Dean's mind wandered to every option possible how to save you, including the worst ones. Making a deal with the Devil. But he had promised you, Sammy and Bobby that he'd never do it again, and he couldn't take it a second time, being tortured and forced to torture other souls in Hell.

If you found out about him selling his soul for you, you'd kill him before the hellhounds would be able to reach him. You would never forgive him, and he wouldn't blame you for that. He had to find another way, but what was it?

Dean wanted to cry, scream and go for a demon killing spree to pour out his anger in a reasonable way but all he managed to do was sit still and stare at you.

☆☆

Four days after the hunt

"Dean, you gotta sleep and eat something," Sam insisted, growing more and more worried about his brother.

"I'm not hungry, i'm fine," Dean mumbled.

"No, you're not. You're –"

"Sam, i told you i'm fine," Dean shouted, feeling this anger and fire raise inside him, and if Sam said another word, the anger would be too much to handle and he'd explode.

Sam was about to say something but decided otherwise not to make Dean flip out completely, already squeezing the wheel with his knuckles white.

Sam missed you too, a lot. You were the closest friend he had who he wasn't related to by blood. You weren't dead yet, but the chance of waking up was becoming less likely as the days passed.

Dean knew it wasn't Sam's fault, and he had no right to get angry at him, to pour his anger at his brother. No, it was his own fault, Dean could blame only himself.

"It wasn't your fault, Dean," Sam had insisted, sensing that Dean's mind was revolving around just him fucking shit up. Dean didn't say anything back, just tried to concentrate on the road ahead of him and not drive into the ditch.

Sam didn't know what to say to him, so he said nothing, letting an uncomfortable silence linger inside the car.

When they had arrived to the motel and Dean had locked himself in a bathroom and was now taking a shower, Sam went outside to make a phone call, far enough that Dean didn't hear him.

"I don't know what to do with him, Bobby," Sam said, feeling desperate. "He's not eating or sleeping, he's a total wreck. I've never seen him like this."

Sam wanted to help his brother and make him feel better but there was no other way to cheer him up than have you wake up.

☆☆

Six days after the hunt

Dean had been visiting you every day, except yesterday, which made him feel so guilty. It wasn't his job to keep you alive there, he trusted the doctors and was sure that they did a wonderful job – but still. He didn't want you to feel like he abandoned you, if you were in any way aware that he was there.

Were you? Could you hear him talking to you? Feel him holding your hand? No, of course not. It was just one day of not visiting you because of another case, but he wanted to sit by your side every second until you'd wake up, so his face would be the first thing you saw.

You would wake up, right? You had to. You had to wake up and come back to him. You couldn't leave him, not since he hadn't even told you that you were the best thing that had ever happened to him. His best friend.

The woman he had fallen in love with. Why did he have to realize all the important things too late? The things that mattered to him the most?

"Sorry that i didn't come to see you yesterday," Dean said quietly. "We were taking down a few vampires and everything didn't exactly go as planned at first. We're alright though, got it handled. Like always."

No, not always. You were an example that thing's didn't go as planned every time. It was just more comforting to say that everything was fine. Everything was going to be fine.

Everything was going to be fine.

Everything was going to be fine.

Everything was going to be –

Who was he kidding.

☆☆

One week and 2 days after the hunt

Dean was sitting by your bed, looking at you lying there. You looked like you were simply asleep but he knew he couldn't wake you up no matter how much he'd try to shake you awake.

"Come on, Y/N," Dean whispered, grabbing your hand in his. "Wake up. Please. I'm losing my mind over here."

No reaction. Of course not. Maybe he should just accept that you're gone. That you left him before he managed to do everything he wanted with you. God, there were so many things he wanted to do with you.

He wanted to tell you how beautiful you were.

How funny and capable of making him laugh you always were.

How much he loved you.

How he wanted to take you on a date. Buy you flowers and chocolate.

How he wanted to sleep with you next to him, cuddled up in his arms to be protected by him.

How he would make you breakfast. Whatever you craved for. Anything from cereals to toasts to pancakes. If he didn't know how to make something, he'd search for the recipe.

How, some day, he wanted to marry you. To build a family with you.

And how fucking much he loved you.

He wanted to protect you from every possible monster that existed but he had already made one mistake. One single mistake that cost your life.

You deserved only the best. Was Dean really the best option for you? No, he knew he wasn't, you could have someone much better than him who would have a lot more stable lifestyle – safer and which had less risks.

But Dean was too selfish to let you go into someone else's arms just like that.

Dean stood up and leaned closer to plant a kiss on your forehead. He cupped your face and gently stroked your cheek with his thumb.

"I love you," Dean whispered. "Please come back to me. I'll be better for you, i promise."

Why couldn't this be a fairytale where a princess would wake up with a true love's kiss? His life was no fairytale, none of it. There were no happy endings, at least not for him.

☆☆

One week and 4 days after the hunt

Sam and Dean visited you together today. Dean had dark circles under his eyes, and Sam had had to drive the car to the hospital in fear of Dean falling asleep behind the wheel.

"Dean, go get yourself a coffee or something. Stretch your legs a little bit, you've been sitting here for hours," Sam insisted.

"Sammy, I don't need to –"

"Dean," Sam interrupted, raising his eyebrows. "She won't go anywhere if you're gone for ten minutes."

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed, knowing full well Sam was right. It had been already over a week, what would another ten minutes matter?

All both Dean and Sam wanted right now was you to be okay. To all of you to be okay and live another day. But just a minute or two after Dean had left the room, leaving Sam to look out of the window and drown himself in his thoughts, something happened.

You slowly opened your eyes, the light above you almost blinding you. You turned your head around on the pillow, confused where you were and what had happened. Then, in the corner of the room, which you had assumed to be a hospital room, was sitting Sam, easing the anxiety in your chest a little bit.

"Sam...?" you mumbled, feeling your throat sore and almost scaring the life out of him.

"Y/N?" Sam breathed out, instantly standing up and coming towards you. His eyes were wide and lips apart, trying to recover from the shock not to freak you out. It had been over a week, so Sam hadn't expected you to wake up today either. "Oh thank god, you're alright."

"What happened?" you asked, trying to sit up but Sam instantly pushed you back on the mattress when you winced out of pain and body being sore.

"You were injured during the hunt and taken to the hospital," Sam explained slowly. "You fell into a coma."

"A coma?" you repeated, unsure if you heard him correctly. "For how long exactly?"

Sam bit his tongue, not sure how you'd react to the answer. "Over a week."

"A week?!" you shrieked in panic.

"Shh, calm down. You haven't missed anything special, don't worry," Sam assured, letting himself smile a little to ease down your panic.

Then, Dean arrived back to the room, holding a coffee in his hand which he almost dropped on the floor when he noticed you wide awake. His eyes grew wider.

Sam gave you a brief summary what had been going on during you were in a coma. He didn't tell you how broken Dean had been during the entire time and how he barely slept, but he explained a little bit about the hunts they had been involved in, since you were curious about that.

"Y/N, oh my god," Dean sighed, putting the cup of coffee down on the side table, rushing to your bed. He was speechless, not knowing what the hell to say, not having been prepared for you to open your eyes. He wanted to say so many things but none of the words felt right on his tongue.

Right then, an idea popped into your head. This was mean. This was going to be so mean. You knew you shouldn't do it.

"Um... who are you?" you asked, furrowing your brows to look confused.

Dean's face instantly fell, going from relieved and happy to confused and sad. He glanced at his brother who looked also surprised.

"You... you don't remember?" Dean mumbled quietly. The hurtful look in his eyes made your heart clench but this was a payback from earlier.

You glanced at Sam for comfort, who seemed to be just as confused.

"Wait, you don't remember Dean?" Sam asked.

"Should i?" you asked, playing the innocent victim with amnesia card.

"Hold on, she remembers you but not me?" Dean pointed at Sam, looking offended.

Sam noticed your face crack a little when Dean wasn't looking and could guess what was going on.

"Well, i suppose she must like me better then," Sam said and shrugged, looking all smug.

Dean raised his eyebrows, lips slightly parted. "The hell she does." Then, he turned back to you, kneeling down next to your bed and looked directly into your eyes. "Y/N, come on. You must remember at least some part of me, yeah?"

"I'm sorry," you apologized nervously. "Are we friends?" You narrowed your eyes and tilted your head. "Wait, are you... are you my boyfriend?"

Dean's cheeks turned slightly pink and he momenturaly turned his gaze away from you. "Um, friends, yeah," he replied awkwardly.

"Really? Only friends?" you asked. "I do remember you telling me that you loved me though."

Dean's eyes grew wider now. "What? I, when?" he stuttered.

"While i was in a coma," you responded, a smile spreading on your face. "I heard every love confession you made to me."

"Yeah, well, um. About that," Dean mumbled, the words getting stuck in his throat. It was so cute when Dean got all flustered like that.

Sam looked both amused and surprised, having no idea that his brother had been finally confessing how much he loved you to you, though while you were unconscious. He had been waiting for that day, sure, and apparently you had to be on the verge of dying for Dean to act on his feelings. Typical.

"I'm just kidding," you chuckled. "Of course i remember you, silly."

"That wasn't very funny, Y/N," Dean stated, raising his eyebrows. God, you made him go insane in every possible way. "Seriously, not funny at all."

"I know, i know, i'm horrible," you sighed and rolled your eyes, a wide smile creeping on your face. "But you still love me. Or did you say that just because i was dying?"

"I do love you, Y/N," Dean admitted seriously. "And the past week almost killed me."

"Killed you? Which one of us is lying on a hospital bed, huh?" you pointed out.

Dean was about to say something back when the doctor entered the room, looking genuinely surprised and relieved to see you awake. He rushed Sam and Dean out of the room to have a quick examination on you in private. Dean was hesitant to leave just like that but Sam grabbed his hand and pulled him away.

What if you had woken up for a moment and would fall into the coma again when he'd look away? What if what if what if.

☆☆

Home

Dean had wanted nothing more than to hug you tightly ever since you woke up, so tight that you couldn't almost breathe and you'd be glued on his body, merging into him. You had stitches on your stomach so he couldn't take a risk and accidentally rip them open, causing him to take you back to the hospital.

When you finally got back home, Dean felt like he had to keep an eye on you every damn moment. Have you sleep on a bed placed inside a circle of salt, have bottles of holy water on your bedside table and a silver dagger. Just in case you would wake up by a demon attacking you.

Dean knew he was overthinking things but he couldn't help but feel overprotective over you. He wanted to take you in his bed and cage you against him with his arms, pressing your head on his chest. You'd be safe with him.

"Dean, you alright?" you asked.

Yes, i'm perfectly fine. Don't worry about me, let me just worry about you. He should have said that. Should have just let it be. You didn't have to worry about his well-being.

"No, Y/N, i'm not," Dean admitted.

"What is it?" you asked.

"You," Dean whispered. "It's you, Y/N."

"Me?"

"I almost lost you, god damn it," Dean spat, voice harsher than he meant it to be, making you flinch a little. His face softened, and he closed his eyes to calm himself down. He felt your hand cup his cheek, making him open his eyes. Your gentle touch sent shivers down his spine.

"But you didn't, dummy," you sighed. You were taking the entire situation too lightly. You weren't the one who had to watch you lie there on the edge of death.

"Y/N, i-" he started. Why was this so hard? "I love you. You have no damn idea how much i love you. I visited you almost every day, holding your hand and talking to you, waiting for you to wake up but you didn't. I was going crazy, just having to wonder whether you would wake up or your heart would stop."

Tears were rising in his eyes, and he didn't even try to hold them in, letting a drop fall down his cheek, right past your fingers. For a second, you were speechless.

"I can't lose you. I just can't," Dean muttered, almost choking in his own words and having to bite his lip as his voice was starting to break in pieces.

"I'm here now, sweetheart. It's okay," you whispered and wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing his head on your chest, his ear against your beating heart. "Feel that? I'm alive, you didn't lose me."

Dean pulled back, keeping his face just couple of inches away from yours. It didn't take more than one quick glance on his lips before he pressed them against yours, taking you into a sweet and gentle kiss, treating you like you were made of glass and would break apart if he grabbed you with too much force.

"I love you too, Dean," you whispered.

"I'll protect you better from now on. I promise," Dean assured you, though actually more himself, letting the words sink into his mind. You were there and you were alive, at least for now. That's all that mattered.

☆☆

[wonderjanga]

Marvel Finds Everything Cute

Marvel finds literally every creature cute and it’s either extremely disturbing or strange to the rest of the league.

Marvel, Aquaman, and Wondy: *in Tartarus*

Aquaman: “Is that Cerberus??”

Wondy: “Yes, yes, it is.”

Random Demon: *flailing around in one of its mouths*

Marvel: “Cerby!”

Cerberus: *all three heads perk up*

Marvel: “Drop.” *points down*

Cerberus: *spits him out*

Marvel: “Good boy!” *flies over to scratch under one of it’s heads*

Aquaman: *watching as Marvel coos over the dog*

Wondy: *kills the demon*

They all got to ride the Cerberus after that. Aquaman was on the left most head, Marvel was on the middle, and Diana was on the right. Hades was extremely confused when he saw this because he never thought Cerberus would act like this around mortals??

or

JL: *all wearing blindfolds besides Marvel because they don’t wanna go insane*

Marvel: *waves* “Hi Cthulhu!”

Cthulhu: *tentacle noise that’s the equivalent of “Hello, Champion*

Batman: “Mighty Cthulhu, we have come here today-”

Marvel: “You’re just as cute as I remember!” *disappears past the tentacles and is probably scratching his chin or something*

*silence*

Batman: “Captain, please step away from the primordial entity that can drive people insane with just one look.”

Marvel: *poked his head out of the tentacles, not that they can see* “But he’s adorable!”

Everyone on the JL was a little confused as to how Marvel was able to call the Lovecraftian entity cute but whatever.

or

Wondy and Marvel: *on a ship, watching a single harpy sing*

Marvel: *isn’t affected*

Wondy: *is a little affected but covering her ears makes it more less affective*

Marvel: “Look Diana! A Harpy!” *picks it up*

Harpy: *between singing and screeching at being picked up*

Wondy: “Brother, we cannot take it back to the Watchtower.”

Marvel: “But why?”

Wondy: “It will bewitch all the heroes with it’s song.”

Marvel: “Oh yeah…” *gloomily puts it back down and it runs off*

Marvel was like super depressed, but Diana just got him a chicken and that instantly made him happy again.

or

Constantine and Marvel: *both in Hell and walking down a path*

Hellhound: *pops in out of nowhere and starts barking*

Constantine: *gets jumpscared* “SHIT!”

Marvel: *sounds so excited* “A hellhound!” *bends down to pet it a bunch* “Who’s a good boy?”

Hellhound: *loving the attention*

Constantine: *watching this and judgmentally lights up a cigarette* “How do you do that, mate?”

Marvel: “Huh?”

Constantine: “I’ve heard from others that you’re like a fucking Disney princess when it comes to monsters for some reason. How do you do that? Is that something you get from being the champion?”

Marvel: “I don’t know actually!”

He actually doesn’t know, because Solomon told him that none of the Champions besides a couple were like this and it was just because they were good with animals and stuff. In other words, he and a couple others were like Disney princesses because they love animals, regardless of the fact that they’re alien or monsters or not.

[shanastoryteller]

Sam seems convinced this is going to work, but Dean’s pretty sure it’s just a load of crap. Bobby’s even more convinced that it’s a whole lot of nothing, although he had admitted that he couldn’t read every symbol that Sam had added to this mess up devil’s trap. That didn’t mean it would work. It just meant that Sam had thrown everything he could think into it.

The real reason that Dean is going along with this, and probably Bobby is too, is because it means that Sam wouldn’t be alone after Dean is dragged to hell. Although standing in the middle of Bobby’s junkyard in a mess of spray paint isn’t exactly how he’d wanted to spend the last hour of his life.

“You really think Lilith is going to show?” he asks. He doesn’t know why she would. She just has to send the hellhounds, who’s howls and yips Dean has been hearing for days. And those things have never been stopped by any sort of devil’s trap.

“Yes,” Sam says, tense, not looking at him.

That’s another thing. For weeks Sam has barely looked at him, barely talked to him. Which sucks, because he’d really wanted to spend the last weeks of his life just looking and talking to and spending time with his brother, but Sam hadn’t been interested in that. At all.

He shares a look with Bobby, who just shrugs, hands tight on his shotgun.

Then the hellhounds come, just like he knew they would, no Lilith in sight. “Sammy,” he says, reaching out for his brother. Not because he thinks he can do anything, but because he wants to touch Sam one last time, one last memory to sustain him through hell.

Sam snaps out his hand and the hellhounds go skittering back, letting out pained yowls.

Dean stares, not understanding. “What did you – wait. You can see them?”

Only he should be able to see them. He’s the one that made the deal.

Sam still won’t look at him, damnit, even as Dean fists his hand in the back of his shirt. Sam's voice is low and pained when he says, “I’m sorry.”

Fear clenches in his gut. But before he do anything, there are demons surrounding the devil’s trap, appearing one by one in Bobby’s junkyard. They’d needed to take down his protections so Lilith could get in, but they hadn’t expected this. Of course she brought a freaking audience.

“Which one of you is Lilith?” he barks out, dragging Sam behind him. He refuses to let the last thing he sees be his brother hurt, or worse.

Dozens of demons stand there, human vessels with pitch black eyes. The hellhounds whimper and slink around them, but don’t seem interested in getting any closer. Dean can’t blame them.

Sam pries his hand off of him, stepping away before Dean can grab onto him again. He leaves the safety of the devil’s trap, which is fucking stupid. Dean’s lunging forward to stop him, but then there’s Bobby’s arm holding him back, face pale with a horror Dean doesn’t understand. He hadn’t looked like that even at Cold Oak, when they’d seen the gates open to hell.

The demons bow.

He blinks, not understanding what he’s seeing.

Sam is standing there in front of them, no protections, and they’re all bowing to him.

Except one.

Ruby is there, stupid red leather jacket and blonde hair and the smirk he hates so much. She walks around the demons up to Sam, who’s face is cold and expressionless. “She’s coming.”

“I know,” he says. “If this doesn’t work, I’m going to kill you.”

“Promise?” she returns. “If this doesn’t work, death will be a mercy.”

Dean tries to push Bobby off of him, to get in between Sam and this bitch, but he doesn’t let go.

Then there’s a little girl in a white dress, head tilted to the side. “Something here belongs to me.”

Ruby flinches, stepping just slightly behind Sam.

“Not you,” she sneers. “You haven’t belonged to me in a long time, I fear. You really think that this boy can save you?”

“Sam,” Ruby says.

He sighs, like this is a trial, and raises his hand.

Lilith’s sneer drops from her face. Her upper body yanks forward, but her legs won't move. “You bastard,” she snarls, raising her hand in return, but nothing happens.

For the first time, fear flickers across her face.

Ruby steps forward, her own terror swallowed up by arrogance, by delight.

Dean tries to move, but finds he’s just as frozen as Lilith, even more so. He can’t twitch a single muscle. Going by Bobby’s unnatural stillness next to him, he assumes he’s in the same boat.

“Samuel is the heir of the light bringer,” Ruby says. “He has taken his birthright. You can’t touch him.”

What’s she talking about? What birthright?

What has Sam done?

“No,” Lilith snarls. “He’s nothing more than one of Azazel’s experiments.”

“A night, a full day, and then morning,” Ruby says. “That’s what he was. Then he rose on the third day.” She shoots a mocking look his way. “If it weren’t for his brother, he would have died nothing more than a failed experiment. But he has risen.”

No. What does that mean? What’s she saying? He had just wanted Sammy back.

Did he do this? Is this his fault?

“Ruby,” Sam says, a note of warning in his voice.

“Right, right,” she sighs. Then, back to gleeful, “Her eyes.”

Sam’s finger twitches and Lilith’s eyes bleed black tears.

She screams, the sound even worse because her vessel is a child.

Ruby lists thing after thing, pulling out her fingernails, peeling her skin. Her blood is black, none of it red, and the injuries shouldn’t really be hurting her but they clearly are. Dean watches helplessly as Sam tortures Lilith at Ruby’s command, enacting one terrible thing against her after another.

Lilith lies there, moaning, limbs broken, body in pieces.

“That’s enough,” Sam says.

“Enough?” Ruby hisses, turning to face him. “You know what she did to me! She – she–”

Sam’s stoic mask breaks, creasing in sympathy. Dean would prefer it wasn’t for a demon, for Ruby, but at least he now recognizes his brother. He raises his free hand to her head, his touch an oddly gentle counterpoint to everything he’s done to Lilith. “I know. But it’s enough.”

Tears glint in her eyes, just for a second, then she swallows and nods, stepping away from Sam’s hand.

He steps forward, crouching in front of Lilith. “You shouldn’t have come after my brother. Now we both have to live with the consequences.” His mouth twists. "So to speak."

Whatever she would have said in response is lost in her screams. Black smoke pours from her, then lights up, like a spark in steel wool, the fire moving through her reminding him almost of the Colt.

Lilith dies. Sam kills her, no Colt, no devil’s trap. Nothing but his own terrifying powers.

“Will you bow to me now?” he asks.

Ruby tears her eyes from Lilith’s corpse and her irritating fucking smirk slides back into place. “Now?” She steps closer, tilting her head back almost like she’s about to kiss him, then falls gracefully to her knees in front of him. It looks more like she’s about to give him a blowjob than a form of subservience, but he thinks that for a moment Sam almost seems amused. “I bowed to you first.”

“So you did,” he says softly. He raises his voice. “Move out. Casey. You know your job.”

“Yes, sire,” says one of the demons, voice almost familiar.

Then Sam’s walking away, Ruby just a step behind him. The other demons follow suit, the hellhounds not even glancing at Dean as they get caught up in the procession.

Sam still won’t look at him. He only sees the back of his brother’s head as he leaves him behind

The only demon left is Casey. He knows her, he recognizes her, the demon he’d been trapped with in that city full of sin, the one that Sam had shot and killed. He’d seen him kill her.

She gets to her feet, offering him a smile as she draws closer. “Hello, Dean. I bet you never thought you’d see me again.”

She steps right into the devil’s trap and presses a hand to him and Bobby each. As soon as she touches them, they’re able to move, darting away from her and leaving her stuck in the devil’s trap.

“What the hell was that?” he asks, wishing his voice wasn’t shaking, but he has more important things to worry about.

She turns to face them. “Samuel does not want you to die. He did what he had to do to ensure you wouldn’t.”

“The fuck you talking about?” Bobby asks gruffly.

“I told you back then I was ready to follow Sam,” she says, stepping out of the devil’s trap like it’s nothing, which she definitely shouldn’t be able to do. Bobby hadn't thought that this thing would be able to contain Lilith, but Casey’s nowhere near Lilith’s level. It should work on her just fine.

Bobby’s hand darts out, throwing holy water over her, but it doesn’t so much as steam.

She just looks amused. “That won’t work on me now. Neither will an exorcism, or any of the usual tricks. I have been purified.” She holds out her hand to Dean and it’s the Colt, the one that they’d lost when Bela sold it. “This is the only thing that will kill me now.”

“And you’re just handing it over?” Dean asks.

“I have my orders,” she says steadily. “Samuel wants you to have it.”

His entire body goes gold.

“What do you mean purified?” Bobby asks, shooting Dean a concerned look. “You’re a demon. Purifying you should kill you.”

“And was Lucifer a demon?” she asks. “I have taken the sacrament.”

Dean doesn’t know what that means, but Bobby’s expression shifts from disgust to shock to a horror filled curiosity. “You drank Sam’s blood?”

She did what?

“I have taken the sacrament,” she repeats, lifting her chin. “Samuel purified me.”

How the hell would Sam’s blood do that? Why had she drank it in the first place? She’s a demon, not a damn vampire. Dean pushes those questions aside and instead asks, “How are you even alive?”

“Samuel resurrected me,” she says. First he can kill demons, and now he can bring them back? “He knows we had a rapport and he thought it would be easier if it was me.”

“What would be easier?” he asks. His head is spinning and his heart hurts and he doesn’t understand anything that just happened. At least being dragged to hell would have been simpler.

She presses the Colt into his hands. “Samuel doesn’t want you to die. He knows this will be difficult for you, that you’ll make poor choices. I have my orders. I am to stay with you and keep you alive. We’re going to get to know each other very well, Dean.”

“Like hell,” he says gruffly, hand tightening as he takes the Colt and raises it to her head. “What’s to stop me from killing you?”

“The same thing that will stop you from killing Samuel,” she says and he flinches. “Nothing.”

He stares at her. He can’t bring himself to speak.

“You’ll have to hunt him down the old fashioned way,” she says casually. “But if you can find him, you can kill him. We’re all under orders not to touch you. Samuel won’t stop you if you want kill him. The same way I won’t stop you if you want to kill me.”

“Why?” he asks.

She shrugs. “It’s always been up to you, Dean. He trusts you. If you decide that he must die, then he’s willing to die.”

Dean sold his soul for him. He’s not going to fucking kill him.

But the Sam he sold his soul for wasn’t capable of doing that to Lilith. He wouldn’t have even wanted to be.

“What about your demon lover?” Dean asks, thinking of the priest that Casey had embraced and kissed, the demon she’d begged to spare Dean’s life before Sam had killed them both. “Sam bring him back too?”

Grief chases across her face before she smooths it away. “He will. If I am good, and obedient, and loyal, then Samuel will bring him back for me.”

Dean’s stomach rolls to hear Sam described like that, like some sort of tyrant or king. Like Dad. “You really believe that?”

Casey meets his gaze steadily as she echoes the words she’d said to him in that basement as she spoke of Lucifer, except now she’s talking about his brother. “I have faith.”

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 15 - Before It Falls Apart

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Author's Note: I have nothing. Godspeed.

Chapter title from Quarter Past Midnight by Bastille

Word Count: 17.6k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Dean throws a party, and you make a gamble. Usual warnings.

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, angst, fluff, pining, action

Chapter 14 - Chapter 16

Read on A03!

Dean couldn’t look away. 

Sammy was trying to talk to him about anything but the thing, and Dean was only half listening, because he couldn’t fucking look away. He hadn’t been able to all night, and he certainly wasn’t going to start now.

Not when She was across the room, and beautiful, and Dean had no reason to stray his gaze. Ever. Until his eyes were ripped out of his head—and they may be—Dean wouldn’t stop looking at Her.

Sammy could wait. His drink could wait. The whole fucking world—if it could ever do him one favor, one solid, one good thing to make up for the rest of this goddamn shit show—could wait. Had to wait. 

Everything needed to wait, just a little while, because Dean needed to keep watching Her.

He had excuses. If Sam or Bobby grumbled that he wasn’t even doing anything, that this whole party was for him but all could be bothered with was watching Her across the room, Dean could ward them off with a million, quick and boring reasons.

Shit excuse one, if he didn’t watch Her, She’d leave. If She thought for even a second that she could get away, She’d slip up the stairs and return to Her room—return to Her books and notes—and Dean would lose Her.

Not like that. She’d still be tangible, and She’d still have breath in her body and a heartbeat Dean could feel under his palm, but She wouldn’t come back out of her shadow-like stance until this was over. Dean couldn’t spend the night wondering if She was wasting further and further away. Here he could see it. It had taken so much goddamn effort get Her here, and he needed Her to stay.

“You can do your party Dean,” Her whisper had been hoarse, and Dean had reminded himself to make sure—when he got Her downstairs—She drank more water. “I can’t- I need to keep going.”

“You can keep going in the morning.” He’d pushed back, resting his hands over Her’s. 

She hadn’t looked up from Her book, when he’d kneeled before Her on the floor. She wouldn’t. Dean hadn’t seen Her look at anything but that damn tome in two days. 

“C’mon, Princess. Just one night-“

“It’s not just one night.” 

“You’re right, it’s an evening.” 

She’d glanced up at that, and Dean had thrown on his best, charming and bright and are you not entertained smile. It was the one that usually made Her smile back, and made Dean feel like—for once in his life—he was actually fucking worth something.

“I can’t.” She’d mumbled. “There’s not enough time.”

“Book’ll still be here in the morning-“

“You won’t.”

Dean had been shot before. He’d been beaten and bruised and mauled, and he’d lost track of all the dislocated joints and long scars from poorly done stitches. 

That had hurt more. Far more. That had cleaved his heart in half, and the hellhounds could’ve come that very moment, but this still would’ve been the worst pain he ever experience. 

Her face had been hollow, and Her voice so fucking soft, and the wrinkle in Her brow had been deep but made of nothing but weight. She was so fucking tired, and it was Dean’s goddamn fault. He’d made Her into this, his shitty fucking choices had reduced all Her light into but a flickering star that was still brighter than the whole universe, but had buried itself in the dark of Her room and under the weight of the mud and dirt. 

He had hadn’t bother to stop his hands from moving to cup Her face. He’d had to touch Her, keep her attention on him, and feel that there was still warmth in Her cheeks. That She hadn’t been reduced fully to a shell, because She’d leaned into his touch, and Dean had wondered—if he explained to Lilith the situation, that this was more painful than any wound could ever be—he could strike a new deal where this moment was his torture, for the rest of time.

Where, at least, he’d still have Her.

“I’ll be here in the morning.” He’d muttered, never breaking Her gaze. “I got time, Princess.”

“A week.”

“That’s time-“

“It’s not enough.” She’d shaken Her head in his hold, but still reached up to hold him against Her. He might still be able to feel the brand of Her touch, hours later. “I- We don’t have anything, Dean, I can’t just take a night off, I can’t-“

“For me.” Dean had let a little bit of his desperation slip into his voice.

He didn’t want to do this without Her. And that was selfish, because he was already asking Her to move all of hell in his name, but he needed Her to do this more. Needed Her more.

“Please,” he’d whispered Her name, and it would’ve been better if he stayed on his knees and She stood. It would’ve been more accurate to how he was fucking begging. “Just one night, and I won’t get on your ass if you spend the night reading. You can go a full twenty-four hours after, just come tonight.”

She’d stared at him for a long, heavy moment, and Dean had felt himself burning up from within. He was full of Her, full of silver light in the cavity of his chest, something to the right of his heart had been fucking pounding and roaring for Her, and he’d known in that very second that—if She told him no—he wouldn’t move either. He’d have stayed at Her side for the whole night while everyone else was downstairs, because She was bigger than the whole world.

Being in Her orbit, as long as he could—because it seemed that She’d always let Dean stay where he could feel Her, but the world didn’t like to lend him that same grace—was the more important than any drinks or food could be.

But She’d nodded. Small and nervous, but a nod. And She’d taken Dean’s hand when he’d offered it, and let him lead Her downstairs.

And Dean still had a rotting sense that if he looked away for half a second, She’d vanish.

Shit excuse two, he needed to keep look at Her, because he had to remember. If none of this played out how they wanted, Dean needed Her imprinted on him, in every possible way he could imagine. 

He had to absorb as much light as She’d offer, while it was still possible. And there was the fucking selfishness again. He was just fucking taking from Her, and demanding more where he had no right, but he fucking had to. If he wasn’t here in a week, it made him a little goddamn sick to imagine how She’d just keep fucking shining, and nobody would ever know how to worship Her light the same way Dean did.

And they weren’t anything. They slept in the same bed, and Dean hadn’t fucked anyone since She’d gotten back but he had pictured her in the shower, and he needed Her more than he’d ever thought was possible, and he’d maybe started to understand how Dad had driven himself into madness when Mom had died—just watching Her turn a little fragile and hollow was driving Dean out of his mind—but in name, She and Dean weren’t really anything at all. If people asked, he’d have to say partners or friends.

Yet nobody would ever be able to care for Her the way Dean could. Sammy had been right, if it wasn’t Dean running his thumb down the bridge of Her nose, wasn’t Dean in Her bed, wasn’t Dean prying books and pens from Her hands and replacing them with food, it wouldn’t be anyone. 

Nobody else seemed to know how.

And She’d need to be okay. Dean needed Her to find other ways to care for herself, when this was over, because he needed Her to be happy and alright far more than he needed to keep up the selfish idea that he was special to Her. 

But he still wanted to take as much light as he could, while it was still possible. Because if She found someone else after Dean to care for Her, they wouldn’t worship Her right. They’d take the light because it was addicting and bright, not because they knew that it was rarer and better than anything in the world.

Dean needed Her burned over him, around him, sunken through his tissue and printed over his bones so his body would still know Her when Dean couldn’t, and maybe deep enough into his soul that he’d still be able to feel something of Her within him, when he was being ripped and skinned for eternity.

“What color is your soul?” He’d leaned over the table of Bobby’s kitchen a few days ago, watching Her scratch another note that nobody else could read, not looking up as she responded.

“I don’t know, De.”

He’d frowned. “What’d you mean, you don’t know-“

“I can’t see my own soul."

"Have you, uh- Maybe a mirror?"

She'd shot him an amused look, and Christ, it had almost knocked him out of his chair. "No, I haven't tried a mirror, but it's honestly not my top priority right now."

"What, looking in a mirror?"

He'd gotten a smile from that one. "Knowing the color of my soul."

Dean had shaken his head. "Nah, Princess, you gotta want to know-"

"Why?"

"Because it's your soul.”

"Exactly." She'd shrugged, Her attention dropping back down to the book. "It's my soul. I know I'm me, and it's not I need to know my color for anything, or anyone else can ever see it, so I- I don't know, I just don't really need that question answered, I guess."

Dean had let it go, but he didn't understand it. It was Her damn soul, and he might not be able to track what the hell that meant, but it had to be worth something. It needed to matter, because shit, Dean had to know what color Her soul was. He had to know if it was just pure, shimmering light the way he thought it would be, if it was the color of Her eyes or hair and he'd been seeing it the whole time, or if it was a million colors because She was everything, or just gray for the exact same reason.

Maybe She'd be metallic, just like Dean. 

Maybe She'd be golden too.

Because She'd said Dean was gold. She told him that She looked at him and saw gold, and he didn't understand or agree with it, but he'd be whatever the hell She said she was. And if he was gold, he had to be doing something right. Something good.

In some little, worthless way, he had to be something of value to Her, because gold was... It was damn gold. Everyone wanted gold. 

Dean didn't care about everyone. He could give a shit about everyone. 

Everyone had always wanted Dean, on the surface, when he was just a body in the night that passed by dawn, or knuckles and hands that fired bullets and split lips with practiced ease. Wanting him deeper had never been an option. He’d never cared to be known deeper by anyone but Her, and he’d never wanted Her to know because She’d see that deeper just meant a large, dark pit and She wouldn’t have stuck around.

Dean had never dared to imagine that She’d stick around.

But She’d seen his soul. His fucking soul, and She said it was golden, and She’d stayed, and Dean wanted Her. Every part of Her, soul included—whether it was a mirror of his, or its own beautiful and blinding light, or just a shining, luminescent gray—and he was done denying it.

He’d been done trying to leave Her for a while. He’d been done hating Her for longer. 

He didn’t want this to end with Her thinking that Dean didn’t want Her. He didn’t have any of the damn words to tell Her that, to explain that every time he’d walked away he’d wanted to turn around. That whenever She’d left it had been like he’d been frozen from the right of his heart outward, until She returned and everything thawed back to vibrant, humming light and color.

Dean couldn’t figure out how to tell Her that she’d really have to be okay, for him, because he’d never known how to tell Her that everything was better when she was there.

But it was.

It always had been.

She needed to know Dean wanted Her. No matter how this played out, She was going to be furious, but Dean still wanted Her. She could end up kneeling—Dean still didn’t know if She’d cry for him, but he was also trying not to think about that at all—at a patch of dirt and cursing his name, or She could shove him and scream that he left Her, but Dean would always want Her.

It was the last, most crucial and unspeakable reason he was watching Her. Dean really just wanted Her to look at him, smile, and come across the room to his side.

If he’d been less of a pathetic coward, and a little more of an idiot, maybe he could’ve called Her name and she would’ve run right to his side, just like he always would to Her’s. He’d loop his arm around Her waist, and She’d beam up at him—nothing exhausted or pained on Her pretty features, only light and affection and ease—and maybe he’d kiss Her and not get shot or stabbed. He’d be treating Her well, so Bobby would just grumble and ignore them. She’d have been pouting up at him and fluttering Her lashes until he leaned down, so when he touched Her, she’d only pull him closer.

It was a world Dean didn’t deserve. A world where things were impossibly easy, and there was no chance he’d be dead by the end of the week. A world where he was watching Her because she wanted him to, and not like a damn creep who never knew when to stop, and just kept asking more and more when he had no right to get anything at all.

He couldn’t tell Her that he wanted her now. Not aloud. Not when the ice under his feet was cracking, and he’d be plunged down, down, down, somewhere dark, where even Her light would never find him again. 

But he’d show Her. Tonight. He needed to show Her, just so she could maybe, possibly, know.

Dean only started hear Sammy again because he said Her name. 

“Huh?” He blinked back to Sam—still keeping Her in his periphery—and the kid sighed.

“I asked if you’ve seen the book, Dean. The one she got from her family’s house.”

“Course I’ve seen it, it’s a freakin’ big ass book, dude-“

“Did you see what language it was written in?” Sam raised his brows, giving Dean a pointed expression. “Because Jo said they were getting an English copy, but that’s not English.”

Dean sighed. “It’s- I know it’s not English, Sammy, but she keeps saying she can read it, and I’m not gonna try to take it away from her-“

“I’m not saying we take it away from her.” Sam’s words were quick, and Dean didn’t miss him glancing over at Her in the corner, like She might have heard the idea. “I just- I don’t know, she’s been kind of losing it, with the whole thing, and this feels like something we should be worried about-“

“It’s not.”

Sam frowned. “Dean, you of all people should be worried about her-“

“Of course I’m fucking worried about her.” Dean hissed Her name, his hands curling into fists at his side. “I- shit, Sammy, I’m losing my goddamn mind about it, but the book isn’t going to be the big problem.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t still be planning on-“

“Don’t say it.” Dean cut Sam off with a grunt, trying to make his tone as firm as possible. “And I am. Bobby’s right, she can see my damn soul, and I’m not going to make her watch it turn to doggy chow for Satan’s mutts.”

“Well, what about the book?“

“I told you, there’s nothing about the book-“

“It’s just a bunch of symbols, Dean! She doesn’t even know they’re not English-“

“I know.” Dean ran a hand over his gaze, letting himself glance back to Her one last time, just to make sure she was still fully focused on Her conversation with Jo. “Trust me, Sammy, I know, but- It’s complicated, alright?”

Dean really fucking hated that word, but there wasn’t a better one. It was complicated, because the book wasn’t in English—or Spanish, or Latin or Arabic or Hebrew or Japanese, or any other recognizable language—but She didn’t seem to know the difference, and it was because Dean was pretty goddamn sure she didn’t know all the pages were filled with odd, indecipherable symbols.

And Dean had recognized them. He’d seen those symbols before, written on scraps of paper in libraries and in worn notebooks She kept in all her bags. 

They were on the Blade. They’d been on the arrowhead. And now they were in the book, but they already had too much to deal with before Dean brought up to Her that maybe, likely, She could read in some sort of ancient secret language for witches. 

“You gotta drop it, man.” Dean muttered, giving Sam a tired, firm look. “Please.”

Sam sighed, but nodded. “You at least talked to her about last week?”

“No.”

“Dean, she went back to her family-“

“I know what happened, Sam.” Dean shot him a glare. “And this isn’t dropping it, bitch.”

Sam jaw clenched slightly, and he ran his hand through her hair. “You don’t have a monopoly on caring about her, dude. I might not, I dunno, worship the ground she walks on-“

“Watch it-“

“But she’s my friend.” Sam pushed on over Dean’s warning, giving him an almost pleading, puppy-eyed look. Telling Dean he was genuine, that Sam really did care about Her—of course he did, She was awesome and Sammy was far from an idiot—and he only wanted to help.

The douchebag.

“We have talked about it.” Dean grunted, and Sam’s eyes widened.

“You just said-“

“I lied.” He let out a long breath, letting his gaze wander back to Her. Beautiful. Untouchable. Brighter than all the lamps and more vital to Dean’s body than his bones. “She couldn’t sleep a few nights back, and I got her to tell me some shit.”

“That’s- what did she-“

“Not your business, Sammy.”

It wasn’t. Dean loved Sam, but She’d told Dean things. He didn’t know how he’d ended up the person that could pull Her to bed and she’d follow, who got to sit with Her through the night—listening to Her breathe and watching the moonlight shift over Her face—but he’d cut off his own tongue before he betrayed that. Betrayed Her.

Because She’d looked at Dean, in the middle of the night—their hands folded into each other and nothing else really real in the whole world—and told him. No one else.

“If I ask you a question-“

“I’m not going to stab you, De.” She’d given him a soft smile, and it had taken a lot of damn effort not to yank Her into his chest. “Promise.”

He’d rolled his eyes, mostly for the show of it. “Well, thanks, but that wasn’t what I was shooting for, Princess. If I ask you a question, you gonna answer it or run off downstairs to keep reading?”

She’d let out a long breath. “What’s the question?”

“You gotta say you’ll stay here first.”

“Dean-“

“Please.” He’d muttered, squeezing Her hand in his. “Stay.”

She’d stared at him for a long moment, but nodded, and something around Dean’s lungs had relaxed.

“Alright, good.” He’d swallowed, choosing out his words and watching Her carefully as he spoke. “That book, that you made Sammy get, then- you know. Got yourself. What’s up with it?”

“I-“ She’d rolled onto Her back with a sigh. “It’s an heirloom. There are other copies, Sam found one, but the other one is supposed to be the oldest. Most detailed. The copy, not just a translation or knockoff.”

“Oh.” Dean had said, and he’d somehow understood less than when he’d asked. “And your family just had it sitting in Chicago.”

“Yep.”

“Am I allowed to ask why?”

She’d glanced back to Dean, Her eyes shining in the dark, and her grip on his hand had tightened until it was strangling. “I told you it was an heirloom.”

“Yeah, but, c’mon.” He’d said Her name in a flat voice, raising his brows. “Most heirlooms are like, boxes and jewelry and guns-“

“Books can be heirlooms, and only crazy people pass down guns-“

“Well you’re surrounded by crazy, sweetheart, so get off your high horse and let me finish.”

She’d wrinkled Her nose at him, but never let go of his hand, so everything was, for now, okay.

“Fine.”

“Why thank you, your majesty-“

“Finish now, Winchester.” Her voice had been a warning, but She’d also rolled on her side to hold his gaze, and Dean had crashed into Her just a little more. “Or I’m going downstairs.”

He’d grinned at Her. “So bossy, Princess-“

“Dean-“

“And my point was that books aren’t heirlooms.” He’d finished, tone dropping. “Especially if they’re rare magic books.”

She’d rolled Her eyes, muttering under Her breath. “That feels like perfect heirloom material-“

Dean cut Her off with Her name, holding Her gaze. “It’s weird Princess. That book is big and old and weird, and it’s a little crazy that your family just had it.”

“It’s- It’s ours.” She’d sighed, Her words slow as She scanned over Dean in the dark. “We have it because it’s ours. I was just always told that it was our book, and it had a lot of really complicated rituals, the most complicated in the world, and we had to original copy because it was… ours.”

Dean had blinked at Her. “Was- This might be a dumb question, but your family, are they-“

“They’re not like me.” She’d mumbled, and let out a long, full yawn only seconds after.

And Dean had wanted to know more—to know as much about Her family as She’d allow him to—but Her eyes had started to droop shut, and nothing could be more important than letting Her rest. 

“You should go talk to her.” 

Dean blinked over to Sam, and he’d probably been staring at Her for far too long. “Uh-“

“I’m not stupid, Dean.” Sam gave him a flat look. “I know you love me, and you’ll want me to take care of myself, and if this goes to shit you don’t want me to blame myself. She doesn’t. Go talk to your girl, jerk.”

“She’s not my-“

“It’s just us, man.” Sam muttered, taking a long drink of his beer before he continued. “You’ve already got enough sins without adding lying.”

Dean scowled. “Shut up, bitch-“

“I will if you go talk to her-“

Sam dodged Dean’s shove, took another swig of his beer, and there was no way Dean was winning this conversation. 

And he wanted to go to Her. He really needed to be at least closer to Her, and Sam was giving him permission, and everyone was already drinking so who would notice if Dean slipped up behind Her and tugged her away-

She’d notice. Bobby would notice. She wasn’t drunk, and Bobby might not be fully watching her, but he was sober enough to see it if Dean tried to just walk up to Her and steal her off into somewhere more private.

Dean wasn’t planning on doing anything. Not like that. And Bobby loved him, Dean knew Bobby loved him, but he loved Her more, and they’d reached a silent agreement to simply never speak of what they both knew to be Dean’s more crude thoughts about Her. Or his softer, purer ones. Or anything of his desire to grab Her and never let go. 

But Dean needed Her. Right now.

It was his damn party. He didn’t need an excuse to talk to his best friend at his own damn party.

He stopped in the kitchen anyway. Grabbed the ginger ale from the back of the pantry and the grenadine from the fridge, mixing it into a glass best he could and—just because it was Her—added a little purple paper umbrella that Ellen had brought from the roadhouse.

Jo blinked at him, over Her shoulder, as he approached them. There was almost an amusement in her expression, like the girl had somehow guessed that Dean would end up sneaking over to them—they were in the middle of the damn living room, but it still felt like sneaking—with a Shirley Temple, shifting on his feet behind Her as Jo’s amused grin only grew.

“You need somethin’, Dean?”

Dean scowled, but any sharp words he had for Jo about mocking him died in his throat as She turned.

She was always prettier, up close. It made Dean certain that She could never be close enough, because he could be drowning in Her beauty—consumed and intoxicated by it, all around his skin and into his lungs and veins—but it would still never be enough.

“Hi.” She whispered, and he felt like an idiot. He was just standing here like a weirdo, and he was supposed to be damn good at this, and it was Her—Dean knew Her better than any pair of tits in a bar, and he was about to ask Her for a far more innocent thing than he’d ever asked them—so this should be easy. He’d been getting ready for this all fucking day.

He could do it. He had to do it. 

He was almost out of time, so he had to do it.

Dean said Her name with a small smile—that was the only right way to say it, with light and joy—and shot Jo another glare. “Jo.”

Jo just grinned at him. “What’s in your hand?”

“It’s, uh-“ God, she was worse than Sam. “Drink.”

“It’s pink-“

“Red.” Dean grunted, glancing back to Her. Just staring at him with wide, bright eyes. So close to his body, and he could almost feel the fucking heat of it. “’S the grenadine. Makes it red.”

She blinked at him, Her voice soft. “You made a Shirley Temple?”

“Yeah, uh.” He cleared his throat, and he needed to get it the fuck together. This was supposed to be the easy part. “It was easy. You just sorta put the ingredients in the glass then shake it-“

“Nice girl drink, dude.” 

Dean started as Sammy came up behind him, and suddenly this felt like a trap. Sam was grinning too much, and it was an identical grin to Jo’s, and son of a bitch-

“Sam.” Dean grunted, and he wasn’t sure when he’d taken a step closer to Her, but he knew he wasn’t strong enough to move away when She grabbed his arm, like She was trying to steady herself. “I’m gonna fucking kill you-“

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dean.” Sammy shrugged, his brows raising at Jo. “Did you just hear Bobby calling us?”

“Y’know what, Sam? I’m thinkin’ I did.” Jo hummed, linking her arms through Sam’s with a wink at Dean. “Enjoy your drink, Dean. Hope it’s sugary.”

He was going to kill them. Beat them, stab them, throw them off the damn roof because he had this, he’d had a whole fucking plan, and he don’t know if Bobby snitched or what, but someone needed to get shot-

“It’s a nice party,” She whispered, and Dean just stared at Her. The drink was still in his hand. This was not going how it was supposed to. “I mean, Ellen’s pie is really good, and Bobby always makes good burgers-“

For once in his life, Dean didn’t care about pie and burgers. They’d been awesome burgers, and nobody had tried to stop him when he’d eaten half the pie himself, but he didn’t damn care. 

“This is yours.”

She blinked at him with a small frown. “What?”

Dean held out the Shirley Temple, and his heart felt like it was about to damn explode. “Uh, I made it, but it’s for you.” The glass felt slick under his hands, and if he dropped it, he hoped the hellhounds would come and kill him right damn there. “Cause you don’t drink.”

“I- Thank you.” She took the glass, Dean felt like he’d been punched in the chest with relief, and She could’ve destroy the damn world with that smile. Bright and real and all focused on Dean. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.” He shrugged, forcing himself to hold her gaze. “I made you come to my dumb party, Princess, it’s the least I could do.”

She frowned at him, turning the glass between Her hands. “It’s not dumb, Dean.”

“It’s a party, all parties are kinda dumb-“

“It’s for you.”

She said that like it was simple. Like Dean was supposed to just understand what the hell it meant. 

“You didn’t want to come.” He said, and the words sounded fucking pathetic before they were even fully out of his mouth. “I mean- I know you wanted to keep reading instead-“

“Because we’re almost out of time.” She gave him an impossibly open expression that he didn’t understand at all. “Not because this is dumb.”

“We’re eating pie and burgers and beer, sweetheart, it is dumb-“

“No, it’s not.” She let out a long breath, frowning down at the glass in Her hands. “Things you like aren’t dumb, Dean.”

She wasn’t lying. She said that like it was the truth, and She always said things like they were the truth, but She’d said that the same way She’d say I don’t need a gun, Winchester or Well, Deano, I’m just that good at my job. Like it was immovable. 

The things he liked weren’t dumb.

And he liked Her. And She was the smartest person he’d ever met. 

So She was probably right. 

“I, got-“ Dean cleared his throat, trying to make his voice as strong and smooth as possible. He could do this. “You wanna go outside?”

“Out-“

“I got something to show you.” He reached out his hand, raising his brows, and She glanced back over her shoulder to the rest of the party.

“But it’s your party-“

“So I can do what I want. C’mon,” He drawled Her name, letting a smirk tug at his lips. “We can ditch for ten minutes. They’ll entertain themselves.”

Dean didn’t get the chance to have the long, painful moment where he wondered if She would insist on stay here. He’d practiced for it, had a whole backup speech about how he wasn’t a dying man, but this was his party, and his only wish was that She’d go on one walk with him, and if She wanted to, she could punch him in the face at the end.

But Her fingers folded through his, and She gave him a soft smile, and Dean returned it without a thought. 

“What do you want to show me?”

He shot Her a wink, not bothering to look back to the group as he tugged her out of the room. “It’s not showing you if I tell you, Princess-“

“You can do both-“

“But I’m not gonna.”

She wrinkled Her nose at him. “You suck, Winchester.”

“Yeah, I know.” Dean squeezed Her hand and tugged her a little closer, because just for tonight, he could. “Close your eyes.”

She frowned. “Dean-“

“You trust me?”

“Of course I trust you, but-“

“Then close your eyes.”

She held Dean’s gaze, scanning over his face like She was looking right into his soul, and Dean realized She might be. Shit, maybe She could read what he was planning, read his mind- Son of a bitch, what if one of Her crazy magic powers was reading his mind-

“Is it gonna be a bug?”

Dean snorted. “It’s not a bug, Princess. Promise. Now close your freakin’ eyes.”

She sighed, but closed Her eyes.

She leaned closer to Dean as well. Really close. Pressed Her body right against his, like he was an anchor, and wrapped Her free arm around his bicep so she was all but clinging to him.

It took Dean a second to get his thoughts straight. He kept thinking about having Her thing close to him in other ways. Under him or on his lap, holding him with the same amount of trust, like there was—despite Her caution��no reality to Her where he’d lead her astray.

He wouldn’t. He’d never. He was supposed to be Her shadow, and half of that was protecting Her wherever she went, but the other half was always holding Her. Ruining Her in the best way, where no one else could see, until it was only ever Her and Dean, and he got to see and have Her like no one else, like this, but more-

Now wasn’t the time to indulge those thoughts. He was running out of time at all, but now had to be about this. About Her. About the hours Dean had spent in the junkyard, for Her, and showing her that he really did damn want Her. To be happy, to have some part of Dean that couldn’t rot into soil, just at all. 

So he squeezed his hand in Her’s, held Her steady against his body, and led Her outside.

It took a minute to reach the spot. He’d holed up at the back of the yard, deep enough in that She and Sammy would just send Bobby to find him if he was needed, but still close enough to run back to the house in a few minutes. 

But he wasn’t running now. He was walking with Her hung off his arm, through the dark, he’d was goddamn sure he’d known his way, but all theses freakin’ cars looked the same when he couldn’t actually see them-

“Are we lost?”

Dean glared down at Her, and her eyes were still closed, but a small smile was playing on her lips.

“Dean-“

“We’re not lost,” he grumbled her name, frowning around the yard. “I just don’t want to you to trip or something-“

“What would I trip over?”

Her voice was perfectly innocent. Too innocent. She was fishing for information.

“Nice try, sweetheart.”

She scoffed. “Shut up.”

“Uh huh.” Dean took another turn, and this had to be the right one because goddamnit, he’d been following this path for months, there was no way in hell he’d just lost it- 

“Can I open my eyes yet-“

“No.” He grunted. “Just hold on, I’ve got you-“

“I know that, but if you’re lost, Deano, just let me help-“

“I’m not- Ha!” Dean grinned as he finally took the right turn, standing a little taller as he tugged Her forward. “Told you, I fuckin’ have it.”

She sighed, Her brow dropping to his shoulder. “I don’t know what it is-“

“Gimme a second.” Dean squeezed Her arm before pulling out his flashlight, giving everything one last quick check, because it had to be perfect. “Alright, ready?”

“I think so.” She frowned. “Do I need a knife?”

“Nah, you’ve got me.” Dean was almost bouncing on his feet, electric adrenaline seeming to rush his body. “Open your eyes, Princess.”

She obeyed, blinking as She adjusted to the dark, and She was looking at Dean and the night sky too much, She needed to follow the angle of the flashlight and actually fucking see it-

Her eyes flicked to the side for a second, did a quick double-take, and widened as Her mouth fell open.

“Dean- I- What-“

“I promised you I’d fix you a car.” He shrugged, watching Her carefully. He was pretty sure She liked it. He hoped She liked it. Son of a bitch, She needed to like it, because she didn’t owe Dean shit, but he wasn’t sure what the hell he’d do if She didn’t like it.

“You-“ She tore Her gaze for the car—Her car—and Dean felt soft, silver light start to fill his body under Her attention. “Dean, you didn’t have to-“

“Course I did. I promised.”

She shook Her head. “It was just a game, and I- It’s a car, Dean, I can’t accept it-“

“It’s for you.” Dean said, making his voice as firm as possible. “I fixed it up for you, Princess, no one else. I mean, uh, if you don’t want it-“

“I didn’t say that.” Her words were quick, almost frantic, and Dean frowned.

“So take the car.”

“I- It’s-“

“Is it too much?”

“No, but-“ She swallowed, looking back to the car with a nervous expression. “I don’t know anything about cars, De, and this one looks nice-“

“That’s cause it is nice.” Dean pulled Her a little closer, resting his hand on the hood with a grin. If he had to sell it, damnit, he’d fucking sell it. “And you can drive, sweetheart, that’s all you need. I can tell you everything you need to, and Bobby can help you with maintenance, and it’s- You won’t have to go around stealing cars anymore, cause this one will be yours.”

She sighed. “I don’t steal cars-“

“Yeah, you just hotwire them and drive them off to other states.”

“Shut up-“

“Only if you take the car.”

Her eyes narrowed, and She glanced back to the car with a weary expression. “I- I don’t even know what type of-“

“Pontiac Firebird.” Dean cut Her off with a grin. “1970 model, but I gave you a better radio and ripped up some of Bobby’s yard for better parts, so, uh- It’s not exactly up to code, but it’ll work way better than anything you’ll find at some damn dealership-“

“Dean.”

He blinked down at Her, and there are a million  moments in the past few months that he’s wanted to freeze time. Whenever he was in the Impala, and the wind was perfect, and it was only Dean and the road and music, and he felt more untouchable than the goddamn moon. When he was at the roadhouse and he and Sam were making shitty jokes, and Ellen was rolling her eyes but serving him all the same, and She and Jo were laughing and whispering in the corners like this was a sleepover and there had never been a fear of nightmares in their lives. Times in the kitchen with Bobby, just drinking and talking about a movie or cars, his face half-stuffed with pie and Sammy in the corner looking like he was trying not to laugh.

When She and Sammy had been talking about nerd shit, and Dean had got to just listen. Watch the two smartest people in the world bounce off of each other in a way he could follow, but didn’t really care to because he’d rather just watch them. Looking happy, and talking faster than they could breathe, and letting Dean sit with them even though he was just grumbling and making stupid little comments. 

Every time he’d made Her giggle, he’d wanted to catch the sound in a jar and take it with him into the grave.

Every moment with Sammy where they were laughing like nothing could ever be wrong, like it had only been like this, and every fight about Dad and hunting and Ruby and the deal had never even existed at all, he’d wanted to freeze in a polaroid and brand it onto his skin.

Every single fucking second She’d looked at him like that—like She was looking at him now, with eyes brighter than anything that hung in the sky, as if just looking at Dean, of all damn people, was all She’d ever need to do—he’d prayed to a God he fucking knew wasn’t real that time would freeze, right there, forever.

It never had. It wouldn’t.

But Dean needed to at least imprint this deep enough into his soul that it could never be clawed out. That even if he was torn to shreds it would still be something he could feel. Her attention, all on him, soft and bright and all for Dean.

Like he was the world.

He really would’ve liked to be, for Her, if he’d had the chance.

“You really didn’t have to do this for me.” She whispered, and Dean let out a long breath.

“I know.” He muttered. “But I did, so goddamnit, Princess, just do me a solid and take the goddamn car.”

She swallowed, and—thank fucking Christ—nodded. “Do you have the keys?”

“They’re in my jacket inside.” He muttered, and She was real damn close to him. He’d lost track of it, in the panic that maybe She’d turn down the gift, but She was really fucking close.

He could see every line and dip on Her face, smell the vanilla of Her perfume as it invaded his sense, the cherry of Her drink on Her breath and that goddamn fruit—different from the drink, so at least now he knew it wasn’t fucking cherry—everywhere around him. Her cheeks were from the wind, and Her hair framed her face in a way that made her look like a fucking angel, and Her eyes were wholly black.

From the dark. 

She was looking at Dean like there had never been anything else to bother looking at, but Her eyes were blown out from the dark. And She was so close because it was cold and Dean could run hot, and She was breathing so heavy because the earth was sort of spinning under them, and the air was suddenly not enough to keep going-

“Dean.“ She paused, scanning over Dean’s features until whatever she was looking for, She found. “It- It’s late.”

It could be eight in the damn morning. Dean would’ve nodded anyway. “Yeah.”

“I sort of- I might-“ She glanced to the Firebird, then back to Dean with a nervous expression. “I have something for you, too. But it’s inside, and I know you still have your party-“

“Screw the party.” Dean said it without thought, and She blinked at him.

“But-“

“You got something for me?”

“That’s-“ She frowned, and it was almost a pout, and Dean was going to follow Her to the ends of the Earth. “Yeah. Inside.”

“Then lead the way, sweetheart. And-“ He narrow his eyes, cutting Her off with firm words. “I got my party, and I ate my pie, and Sammy’s gonna get a little drunk ‘cause the kid always overestimates his tolerance, and it’ll be real damn funny in the morning, just like I wanted. But now,” Dean squeezed Her hand, and his time was basically up anyway. He’d showed most of his hand, and he’d been damned if She didn’t show hers. “I want this. So no arguing with me. My party.”

She smiled at him, suddenly and blindingly, and maybe She could freeze time. Maybe if She asked the world to stop moving, it would, because nobody owed Dean a damn thing, but this stupid fucking universe should be thankful it was ever graced with Her presence. Dean was pretty damn sure that if She asked whoever was in charge of time to stop, just fucking stop so Dean could have this, it would.

“Bossy.” She whispered, and Dean laughed. Loud and echoing the junkyard, making Her smile grow and everything in him fill up with silver light.

“C’mon, Princess.” He grinned down at Her, and She grinned back, and for once in his life, even if it was just tonight, Dean had gotten what he wanted. “Let’s get you inside.”

It was easy to slip past everyone, guiding Her to the house with a hand on Her back. It would’ve been worryingly easy, if they had warded the place until it was demon repellant, and Bobby wasn’t cradling his shotgun to his like a baby blanket as he snored in the kitchen. 

“You think we should take it from him?” Dean whispered in Her ear, and She gave him an amused look.

“That’s a terrible idea.”

“I mean, we don’t want him shooting himself in his sleep, do we-“

“He’s not going to get shot, Deano.” She poked his chest, raising Her brows, and Dean rolled his eyes and pulled Her further into the house.

They hadn’t even been gone that long, but somehow everyone had gotten themselves knocked the hell out. Sammy was taking up the whole couch, Jo was passed on the floor with a blanket half tangled over her body, and Ellen had dropped herself in a chair and was snoring like a damn engine.

“Do you think-“ Dean shot Her a weary look. “They didn’t, you know, can Lilith-“

“It’s not demons.” She mumbled, tugging Dean up the stairs, only looking back to make sure he was following. “I’d know.”

“What’d you mean you’d-“ He blinked at Her. “Shit, is that one of your magic thingies?”

“Yeah.”

Dean frowned into the air, letting Her pull him down the hall. “It only demons, or like, all monsters?”

She sighed. “All monsters. But not ghosts. I don’t know why.”

“Huh.” Dean was a goddamn idiot. He should’ve put everything together years ago, because it only took a few seconds to drag out countless memories where She’d screamed his name, seconds before She could’ve known anything was wrong at all. “You got any other cool tricks you wanna share-“

“No.” They stopped outside Her room, and she took a long, heavy breath. “There’s nothing. No Deus ex Machina.”

“Sweetheart, you know I don’t know what that means-“

Dean cut himself off as the door opened, and Her room had… changed.

Not fundamentally. The wallpaper was the same, as was all the furniture and wall decorations, but in the center of the room was a blanket fort. Taking up the whole carpet, made of the fluffy blanket She’d been carrying with them from town to town, a million quilts, and all Her sheets, stripped from the bed. The only light from the room were little plastic glow in the dark stars, glued all around the room and catching the light through the window until Dean could turn to Her, and really fucking see all the nervous, open features of her beautiful face.

“I used to do this, when I was a kid.” She whispered, rubbing the scar on Her palm as she spoke. “It- It could help, when everything got too big and I couldn’t control it, and Bobby was on a hunt or something, and I- I don’t know, I thought you’d like it-“

Dean muttered Her name, squeezing Her hand. “It’s- This is fucking awesome. You didn’t have to-“

“You got me a car, Dean.” She offered him a small smile. “If you turn this down, I’m throwing the keys off a bridge.”

She had that firm, focused expression on Her face, and Dean couldn’t deny her if he tired. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Do you want to…” She trialed off, nodding to the fort, and Dean was pretty sure there were real fireworks bursting around his heart and over his skin.

He wasn’t great with words. He never had the goddamn words, let alone the right ones, to tell Her that this was everything to him. That he felt small, huddled under the blanket fort and nearly pressed right into Her body, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He was here, in a fucking blanket fort, with Her, and he’d trade the goddamn world for this. 

For Her.

She was everything. So pretty and bright and consuming, and Dean was already so far down but She kept taking him deeper. It didn’t matter if She felt the pull, if She left Dean a million more times or kept a thousand more secrets. She was everything, and Dean didn’t have the fucking words.

“Can we-“ She took a slow breath, Her legs almost tangled with Dean’s in the close space, and Her features sharp and full in the low light of the plastic stars, and Dean would do anything She asked. “Do you want to play the question game?”

He blinked at Her. “The- You mean the one where I ask you something, then you ask me-“

“Yes. Please.”

Dean nodded. It was all there was to do. “Yeah, sure, do you wanna-“

“Why do you have my flask?”

Her eyes were wide on his, and Dean swallowed. Shit. “I, uh-“

“I was just looking for a book in your bag, and you- It was just in there, and I know it was mine, Winchester, so don’t even think about lying-“

“Was this a trap, Princess?” He raised his brows, and the shake of Her head was frantic.

“No, I- I’m sorry, I just really want to know-“

“Hey, wait-“ Dean grabbed Her face between his hands before he could stop himself, offering Her a soft smile. “I’m teasing, sweetheart, it’s- uh-“ He cleared his throat, picking his words carefully. He’d really never wanted to explain himself. “The first time, with that fuckin’ moroi. I, uh- I sorta didn’t want to leave. But Dad had gotten some crossed signals about you, and told me, and I didn’t really have a damn choice but I still- I just froze, and I saw the flask when I was taking your phone, which- Dad made me do that- and then, yeah. I took it.”

She didn’t hit him, or storm out, or demand a better explanation. She just nodded, Dean’s hands still on Her face, and whispered, “I didn’t ever want to leave, either. Just so you know.”

He gave Her a small, sad smile. “Yeah, Princess. I- I think I got that by now. I, uh, can I ask why you had a flask?”

“I used to carry around my experiments in it.” She said, Her gaze never breaking from Dean’s. “I- I’d get ideas, for different spells and rituals and I guess potions, and then mix them in the flask. Why’d you keep it?”

Dean’s voice was only a rasp. He really didn’t have a damn thing to lose. “Cause I never didn’t miss you. And I- uh, my next one might be over the line, so just hit me if you want me to shut up-“

“Dean-“

“Why’d you leave your family?”

She blinked at him, Her hands flying up to hold his wrists, but She wasn’t leaving, or hitting him, or doing anything but leaning further forward, Her voice dropping to a whisper. “I- Are you sure you want to know?”

Dean muttered Her name, nodding tightly. “I’m asking cause I do. And I’m not gonna judge. Not really in a position to, in case you haven’t noticed.”

He offered Her a weak grin, but She didn’t return it. She just let out a heavy sigh, dropping Her gaze to Dean’s chest and holding him tight enough to bruise.

If She did, he would mind. It would be a mark he’d carry on his body, that She’d held him and stayed, through the week and past it. No matter what.

“It’s not pretty-“

“I don’t care.” He grunted, and She looked up at him with soft, bright eyes. “Whatever you want to tell me, I’ll hear.”

She nodded slowly, taking a deep breath and all but falling just a little further over Dean’s lap as She spoke. 

“Bobby doesn’t know this.” She mumbled, watching Dean carefully as She spoke. “You can’t tell him. Or Sam. Or anyone. Promise you won’t tell anyone.”

Dean gave Her a firm nod, blinking three times, and She swallowed.

“It’s…  They were these insane, cultic assholes, and they all believed that our family was destined for something. My grandfather’s family, his bloodline, had been chosen to do some shit, and there was this ritual they’d do, for all the girls, when they got their periods. It was supposed to tell us who was the special one.” She spat that word like his was poison, Her eyes narrowing at the air. “I was the eldest daughter of my mother, but she was the youngest of her siblings. I had seven aunts, and none of them were chosen, so they started having kids but none of them were chosen either, and then I- Nobody thought it would be me.” Her gaze on Dean’s was almost desperate. “Nobody, I think they only did the ritual because they had to, but nobody- The whole fucking thing didn’t make any sense, because my grandmother’s family didn’t have money like my grandfather’s, and if we were supposed to be favored then things should’ve been easy, nice and neat, but it was me. I was sick, but they thought I was destined to marry some random fucking dude. They thought it was my destiny, and he was supposed to be really powerful, so they never lay a hand on me but they- They could lock me up. And threaten me. And I just- I would’ve died there. So I ran.”

Dean didn’t have words. He wanted to hold Her closer, do something more than just stare, but he didn’t have a single goddamn thing that could make that shit better, and She was talking again before he got the chance.

“It’s my turn,” She whispered, and Dean nodded.

“I know but-“

“Be okay.” 

Dean blinked at Her. “That’s not a question.”

“I don’t care.” She muttered, Her voice growing hoarse, and Dean’s grip on Her face tightened. 

“Look, sweetheart-“

“Dean, I- You have to be okay.” She made a small, choked noise, leaning a little further forward. “You don’t get a fucking choice, you need to, it’s- I don’t- I don’t want you to die. So fucking don’t. Okay?”

Her eyes were open and glossy and just as bright as ever, but this time Dean knew it was all directed at him. Stronger than starlight, pouring right through his body as Her grip became breaking, and Her breathes because ragged, Dean got the answer to the one question he’d never care to have it for.

She would cry for him. 

She was doing it now.

He’d been worried he wouldn’t know what to do, if She cried. He didn’t know how girl tears worked, not in person, not like this. Distracting Her wouldn’t work like it always had with Sammy, like had before when She’d been on the phone. He didn’t think he could even try to tell Her to stop, because they were small, shining tears clinging to Her lashes and a pout in Her lips as She tried to bite the sobs down, and there was that wrinkle. 

And Dean, for once, knew how to fix someone. Because it was Her.

And nothing came to Dean better than Her. 

He ran his thumb down Her nose as he always had, and She let out a weak, shaking breath as She leaned into the touch.

“Careful Princess,” Dean gave Her a weak smile, his thumb still resting on the bridge of Her nose. “It almost sounds like you want me-“

He’d meant to finish they sentence with to stick around.

It almost sounds like you want me to stick around.

But those last words died in Dean’s throat, and there was a sudden long silence as they looked at each other, only their heartbeats really audible over their breaths.

And then She was moving.

Flying at Dean, almost crawling fully into his lap, wrapping Her arms around his neck and burying Her face in his shoulder, holding him like She could force him to stay. 

He didn’t need to think, to hug Her back. Dean’s arms flew around Her in half a second, and he really fucking hoped he’d die right here. Drowning in Her. Always drowning in Her light, with no care to find a way out, because this was bigger than anything else in the universe, and Dean would be goddamn lucky to suffocate on the smell of fruit, stroking a hand through Her shining hair and realizing far too late that She fit here. 

She really fucking fit against Dean, like—over all these goddamn years—in his hold was where She should’ve been the whole time.

“Be okay.” She whispered, Her voice barely a breath in Dean’s ear. “I’ll go down with you, Dean, all the way, but please just- Be okay. And I’ll stay. All the way down.”

Dean nodded. And She wouldn’t be allowed to go down with him. He die a million fucking times before he damned Her with him. But he’d do anything for Her. He was Her shadow. Dean would cross any line, spill any blood, go anywhere She asked and do whatever She needed done. 

He’d say whatever She needed him to say, if it meant She’d just relax into his body and fall into soft, gentle sleep.

“Alright.” He muttered, and thanked something that She’d never been able to know when he was lying. “All the way down.”

——————

If you’d known better, you never would’ve called the pull to Dean powerful. It was magnetic, and gravitational, and hot and instinctual and bursting with nothing but want and a sense that Dean—despite the obvious and contradictory truth—would last forever. It’s been made of the Spiderweb—whether it was fractured and torn or fused into light and color—but the Spiderweb has simply been in you. Like a heartbeat that could whisper in your ears and remind you that, in the end, it would always be Dean.

You’d always come back.

You’d always want him.

Even if it didn’t make any sense, and you were angry enough to punch him square in his handsome, stupid face, you’d always want Dean.

You’d always forgive him. You’d always find your way back to him, because things were simply better when he was there. The world was technicolor, and everything was Silver, and the pain was reduced to only a numb, humming sting under your skin.

And that was the pull. Has been the pull. Since you’ve met Dean, you’ve always needed to be close to him, and that had meant forgiveness and finding your way back.

But it’s not powerful. It’s nothing.

Compared at loving Dean, the pull really isn’t anything at all. 

And you love him. You do. It’s pointless and maybe more painful to fight than Darkness, and he never has to know but you need to be able to tell yourself.

You love Dean. You love him and it might be something that kills you, but you love him and it’s branded into you so deep you don’t think you could wipe it from your body if you tried.

You love him. 

You’ve loved him for a while. 

But there’s always been a reason to swallow it. He was mad at you and you were mad at him, John wants to kill you or demons want to kill Sam or everything seems to want to kill Dean, and he has a secret or you have a secret and none of it fucking matters anymore. 

Dean has two days. You love him, and he has two fucking days.

You’re done pushing it down. You’ll tell him, when he makes it out the other side, that you looked at him in the dark of Bobby’s junkyard and had to choke on the words because it wasn’t the right time—and you weren’t that cruel—but you love him.

That you can’t know when you felt it first, because it’s grown and bloomed in your body every single time you’ve been near him—right along your bones and into the White, covering it in more and more color, in delicate life that’s thorned to keep your love safe—but you hadn’t realized how far it had spread until Dean held your face between his hands in another dirty, bland motel room as you lost your mind, just has he always had, and you’d known that, maybe, possibly, just for you, he’d stay.

And the pull is fucking nothing.

Because this love could move the goddamn universe.

It’s like Dean’s been circling around your thoughts and spiraling through your blood and something deeper—likely the Spiderweb, more electric and critical than blood, running right up into the White—and if you focused, you could pull him closer and closer and part all the stars and grab every planet to make room for him, right at your center.

And loving him is going to make you lose your mind, because he’s an adorable fucking idiot, but it’s also going to make your heart become luminescent to guide Dean somewhere safe, and it’s going drive out every sickness from his body so it can live in you instead—it’s making your strong enough to fight it, because you’re going to have to crawl back to him in the mud, but you’ll make him picking you up and wiping the guts and dirt from your face worthwhile—and it’s going to turn you into a monster worse than anything you’ve ever hunted.

That’s where the pull really becomes a flimsy, weak idea on the wind. 

The pull would’ve made you move through dark, thick forests to find him.

Love is going to make you raze the woods and mountains and oceans and every other thing that dares to be in your path to get to him.

You still won’t use the Darkness. Not now, when everything is so fragile and it could hurt him. Yet, that line is slowly, surely, fading, as the hours tick by. You’ll be anything for Dean. If you become the monster you’ve spent years trying to beat down to save him, you will. Because nothing is further down than this. Then loving Dean. 

And you’re only falling further. You’ve spent so long being worried about crashing into him that you’ve never bothered to worried he’d be yanked away from you, the worry that maybe there wasn’t a bottom. Maybe loving Dean just went on and on and on, and the joy of loving him was knowing that he was right with you, all the way down.

You’re going make the whole world bend to keep him safe, if you have to.

But you have one last move before you do.

Bobby and Sam had spent the last few days trying to find Lilith, because—as they’d reminded you over and over—she couldn’t be summoned.

You’re a little glad Jo and Ellen left a few days ago. You were getting tired of Sam saying well, we can’t summon her, and Jo looking at you with a knowing expression.

She hasn’t told anyone. She was a good friend, and when this was over you were going to have to take her to the beach or something, because Jo hasn’t told anyone about your plan.

“You’re sure it’s gonna work?” She’d whispered to you in the library, the morning after Dean’s party. “I mean, it ain’t really a science, and I don’t know where the hell you’re gonna get, uh, the bone of a bee-“

“I’m just going to use the whole bee.” You mutter, not looking up from the book. “And it’ll work.”

“But if it don’t-“

“It will.”

Jo had sighed your name, reaching over to squeeze your hand. “Look, I know Dean’s important to you-“

You’d given her a flat, tired look. “I really don’t want to talk about this right now-“

“But,” she’d pushed on, raising her brows. “You gotta have a back-up plan, right? I mean, most of these ingredients don’t make no sense. They’re like riddles. The fruit of the lord-“

“Apples.” You’d shrugged. “That one’s actually really easy.“

“Alright, but the feather of an angel- Angels ain’t real, and if they were I doubt they’d let you-“

“Blessed dove feather.”

“How about the eyes of a Prince’s hound-“

“I got sulfur, and I’ll find a werewolf.” You’d given Jo a flat look. “I’m doing substitutions, but it’ll work, Jo, trust me.“

“I trust you, you know I trust you, but-“ Jo had said your name again, her voice almost desperate. “I don’t even know what the blood of the purest abomination means-“

“A sinner who’s still a virgin.” You’d muttered, holding out your hand. “Preferably some kind of monster, I’d guess. Can I have the list, please?”

Jo had dropped it. Thank Christ she’d dropped it, and not told anyone, because they would’ve tried to stop you. Bobby would’ve locked you in the house, and Sam would’ve taken all your notes, and Dean would’ve told you to stop doing insane things for him.

But you have to do insane things for him. 

You love him.

And that’s how you end up here.

In a—hopefully—abandoned warehouse, all your gathered ingredients at your feet, doing your very last play before everything crumbles down. 

You’ve gotten what you need. You’ve scrambled and snuck around and lied about going to find more books only to hunt a werewolf, and you’ve bought a dove feather online, and you made last minute calls and replacements so that you have everything, and this will work. 

You weren’t entertaining what you’d do if it didn’t. You’re almost sure the blur or Darkness will take over anyway, so you don’t have to worry about it.

Right now, you just have to get the spell right.

There’s the sigil on the floor, all the ingredients placed where they’re supposed to be, and when you slice your hand open with the blade, the Darkness sinks in your body.

You’re all your own, as your blood falls to the floor, and the sigil lights up.

It takes a long, painful moment. You’re still bleeding onto the concrete, and the Blade is clenched your hands as you wait, and wait, and wait-

The light fades, and there she is.

Lilith is smiling at you in the dim, gray warehouse.

“Hello, little one.” She glances over your shoulder, her brows raising slightly. “Is it just you and I, or should I be prepared for some big, strong cavalry to burst in and try to kill me?”

“Nope.” You shrug, spinning the Blade in your hands. “I can read. I know about the armor.”

Another reason you hadn’t told Sam, Bobby, and Dean about the whole ritual thing. They’d want to kill Lilith, but the summoning spell is designed to protect her. You don’t know why, or who made the spell and decided that was a good idea, but it’s what you’ve got.

And you don’t really have the time to question it. 

“Smart girl.” Lilith hums, scanning over the ingredients on the floor. “And I see you… improvised. You know this will not hold me for nearly as much time-”

“That’s fine.” You cut her off with a flat tone. “This won’t take long. We’re just making a deal.”

“You know I am not a crossroads demon, little one, I only hold Dean Winchester’s contract-“

“I don’t really fucking care.”

Lilith gives you an unreadable look. “You are really quite attached to that pathetic worm- It is- I would call it remarkable if it weren’t so infuriating and… problematic.”

You really wish you had time to push further on what that means. You don’t.

“Call it whatever you want. We’re,” you point the Blade between yourself and Lilith. “Making the deal no matter what.”

“And what do you possibly have to offer me that I could want, in exchange for such a… powerful soul like Dean Winchester’s?” Lilith raises her brows, and you feel the Darkness start to rocket up to the surface, spreading one later under your skin and clawing to be let out. “It is a once in a millennium get, little one-“

“Dean’s a human.” You say, raising your chin and ignoring the way the words are bile on your tongue. “There are billions of humans. You let him go, you get this,” you raise the Blade for Lilith to see, and force your voice to remain steady. “And me.”

Lilith frowns, but she still leans forward. You’ve got her attention. “Are you and those annoying men planning to play hot potato with your souls for the next decade-“

“No.” You shake your head, holding her gaze. “You don’t get my soul, you get me. I’m not human. I’m- You said I could be something, and I’ll be it, however you want, if you set Dean free. You can take me now, and we won’t look back. I won’t ever try to escape. I’ll-“ You swallow, and there’s something like iron moving around your throat. “I’ll be whatever you need me to be. You can brand my soul, lock me in a dungeon, use me as a weapon, I don’t care. You just have to shred Dean’s contract, and swear you’ll never make a deal with him, Sam Winchester, Robert Singer, or Jo Harvelle to trade me back. You get me forever. And what’s worth more?” You raise your brow, forcing yourself not to hug your body or scratch at your skin, the Darkness bubbling right below the surface. “One powerful soul, or me, free of my weakness, just as great as I’m supposed to be?”

“Oh, little one.” Lilith sighs, shaking her head, and you feel the Darkness start to shift. To rip out and leak into the world, until you can feel their weight of the concrete floor and the wear of the steel beams above you both.

Lilith doesn’t look angry, or intrigued, or reluctantly defeated.

She just looks disappointed.

And you’re going to burst at the seams.

“It’s a good offer.” She says, her voice far too soft. “Truly, you’ve done well, and you- I can see it building in you. But this, killing Dean Winchester, is the best thing I can do for you. I promise, without him there to intrude on your path you will become the brightest thing in history. Past and future. He will not know what he’s brought on himself, choosing you rather than one of my other, weaker descendants. It really is beautiful that it’s you. I would never have it any other way, and when this is over, my master will understand why I’ve bent the rules by even entertaining you, but- No. I cannot take you.”

You’re not giving up that easy. You don’t care about cryptic speeches or promises or being beautiful. 

You just love Dean.

And you can’t fucking lose him.

“You can take me.” You hiss. “I told you, I’d go without a fight, and I’ll do whatever you want-“

“I never said I did not want to take you.” Lilith cuts you off with a pointed look. “It really is the best thing you could’ve offered, but I cannot make a deal with you. Nobody can. You are- Untouchable.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, fuck off, I’m not untouchable. Hell’s assassin’s been on my fucking ass for years-“

“Because you have been interfering in ways that can’t be afforded.” Lilith snaps. “The assassins could not kill you if they tried, but you should’ve been blinding by now, and you are- You have been distracted. You need to be ready for what’s to come, and you needed to leave and begin to prepare for when he finally comes for you you, but you have been so infatuated with Dean-“ 

Lilith cuts herself off with a sigh, glancing down to the sigil, and the Darkness is going to explode out of your body and consume fucking everything-

“You are becoming an outside factor we cannot afford.” Lilith’s words are slow. Careful. “We have been trying to show you that, the longer you fight what you are meant to be, the longer you cling to this… unwarranted affection for Dean Winchester, the longer you will suffer. I promise you, little one. Being free of him will show you that, in the end, you are far greater than you’ve been allowed to be. You will be ready, when the time comes. And you will make the right choice, when we ask. But only if you let go.”

You swallow, and the Darkness is tangible everywhere around you. Furious and rioting and surrounding Lilith like a storm cloud as the lights starts to flicker overhead, and you can feel fucking everything, the sourness of the apple on the floor and the beaten sensation of the doors as the wind starts to feel harsh and it rushes to be closer to your side. And the sun is burning above your but it will fall if you call for it, and the earth is steady but if the Darkness pulls it forward it would be happy the bury you down, and there’s water that’s cool and safe deep, deep, deep under your feet that’s flowing and turning and calm in the dark, and you can feel the beauty of a little buttercup outside, bursts up through the pavement and swaying to be closer to the gravity of the Darkness-

“I’ll do anything.” You whisper, your voice barely audible over the building Darkness. “I- Please, I’ll do fucking anything, just- please-“

“No.” Lilith gives you a look that might be close to sympathy. Disgusting, soft, unwanted sympathy, because the White is screaming in your body and you don’t think there’s enough pain in the world to hold the Darkness down as Lilith says your name. “You will do great things, and you will have to do them without Dean Winchester.”

You don’t want to do them without Dean Winchester. You don’t care if Lilith thinks you’re going to make important choices, or be great, or be blinding or beautiful or the Queen of the fucking universe.

You love Dean more than the universe. You love him more than the sky, looming far above you and threatening to crash down to your head. You love him more than you care for the last illusion of control over the Darkness. 

It’s the Spiderweb that snaps first. Bursts and ricochets over the warehouse in a song that only you can hear, calling the Darkness like a war drum and setting it free.

Lilith is gone second before the Darkness crushes into her, and you’re bigger than the universe for a long, horrible second as all the lights of the warehouse burn out and the floor cracks under your feet. 

The Darkness rushes back into your body, but stays shifting on the surface, ready to be called back at any second.

And the White is bleeding up into it, easily and without pain, because you’re out of options. That was it. That was your shot, and you missed it, and all you have left is the bomb.

You’d sworn not to use the Darkness. But you love Dean, and you can’t lose him, and you’re out of time. There are less than thirty hours left, and all you’ll need to do is just home to him, let the Darkness move out of your body and wipe the brand clean off his soul, and this will be over.

You’ll kill Lilith later. If you make Dean sick, you’ll rip off pieces of yourself and travel to the corners of the world to find him a cure. You’ll do anything. Because you can’t lose him, and Dean’s not allowed to die.

He’d promised it would be okay.

You’re going to save him, because you have to. 

But when you pull back into Bobby’s yard, the Impala isn’t parked in front of the house. And when you burst inside and scream for Dean—to come out and bite down on something while you work, because you’re going to fix this but you don’t know what else it will do—there’s no response. 

Nobody’s here. Sam’s bag is gone. Bobby’s shotgun is gone, too. 

And Dean’s gone. 

Dean’s gone.

He said he never wanted to leave, and he’d always missed you, but he’s gone. He said everything would be okay, but he’s gone, again, and the Darkness is pushing out from under your nails because where’s Dean, you need to fix this, to save him, and maybe tell him you love him first because he has to know, if he’s going to leave you and there’s even a chance this will work, Dean has to know you love him, you’ll always love him, you always have, he can’t die because you need him and you love him and where’s Dean-

You freeze with your hand on the doorknob to your room, and there’s a scrap of paper taped to your door. You recognize Dean’s handwriting—thin and quick, in pencil with his signature at the very corner of the page—before you read the contents.

And when you scan over the words, you can feel the doorknob turn to rust under your hands.

Hey, Princess. I know you’re gonna kill me (and if I make it out, I’ll finally show you how to shoot a gun so you can do it quick) but Bobby found Lilith, and we’re heading out to get the bitch. Don’t follow us. Bobby and Sammy will be back in two days. Hopefully I’m with them. If I’m not, don’t do something stupid like try to bring me back. You’re still with me, all the way down, but let’s try to make that metaphorical instead of literal (Sammy told me how to use those properly. If I didn’t get it, I’m trying to say don’t die. Not for me. You promised.)

I left your car keys in the kitchen. Left the flask too, it was yours anyway. 

Sorry. 

DW

You’re going to kill him. You rip the paper off the door and read it over and over, like you can make the words change, but they don’t and you’re going to fucking kill him.

You’re going to find where he went, and you’re going to save him, and then you’re going to fucking kill him. 

The note said Bobby and Sammy.

Jo and Ellen are back at the roadhouse. That’s a drive you don’t have the time to take, especially since you don’t know if it would even be in the right direction. The same for goes for Rufus, and you have a feeling none of them will pick up your calls if you try.

There’s only one person who might be able to tell you where the fucking idiot of a man you love has gone off to.

And she’s not even a person.

So you can do whatever the hell you want to make her talk.

Ruby appears in the demon trap of Bobby’s office when you summon her, and she goes rigid the moment she sees you, sitting on the desk, spinning the Blade in your hands, and watching her with a firm glare.

She whispers your name, and apparently when nobody else is around to hear it, she doesn’t bother to hide the terror leaking into her voice. “You’re- Um-“

“Where are they.” Your words are clipped. Short. You’re down to one day, and you don’t have enough time. 

“I don’t-“

“And,” you cut Ruby off with a cold, firm tone. “Consider before you answer that I have killed demons far more powerful than you with almost no effort, that I have very little left to lose, and I am not feeling very patient.”

Ruby’s eyes narrow, but she still takes a step back when you push off the desk. “You won’t kill me-“

“Try me.” 

“Sam would-“

“Ruby.” You hiss, taking a step forward, and she flinches. “Look at me, and tell me that you really think I’m going to give a shit what Sam will do if I kill you.”

She swallows, but raises her chin in weak defiance. “You’re not their queen,” she sneers your name, crossing her arms over her chest. “And you’re certainly not mine. You can threaten me all you want, we both know you’re too much of a little pussy to use your powers-“

Ruby cuts herself off as you take another step forward, right into the devil’s trap.

“Maybe.” You tilt your head, angling the Blade up to aim at her chest. “But I, personally, would not take the gamble on what I will and won’t do right now.”

You don’t miss the blood draining from her face, but Ruby doesn’t break your gaze. “You know, I feel like we could’ve been friends if it weren’t for Dean. He kind of ruins everything, doesn’t he-“

“Ruby.” You warn, a cool breeze rushing through the room as the Darkness starts to press out of your body. “Where are they.”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “They trapped me in the basement, took my knife, then left me behind-“ She swallows as you press your own knife up, right to her throat. “But I think they mentioned Indiana. Town called New Harmony. They think Lilith’s there.”

You nod, giving Ruby a small smile as you step back. “Thank you. Let’s go.”

Ruby stares at you as you lean down and scratch the devils trap. “What-“

“I know you can escape a devil’s trap.” You mutter. “And there’s no fucking way I’m leaving you alone in my house. Let’s go.”

“What, are we just following them-“

“Yep.” You shrug on your jacket, pressing your palm to the fabric to check that your knife is where you left it. “I can either kill you, or you can come with me. Choice is yours.”

Ruby rolls her eyes. “That’s not a choice, you fucking bitch-“

You give her a cool, bored look. “I’m serious, Ruby. Now is not the time to test me. Let’s go.”

It’s a good thing that, whatever you are, Ruby seems to be weary of it. She follows you with a scowl, only rolling her eyes at the sight of your car—the car Dean gave you, and the interior smells like grass and spice, and he left behind some of his cassette tapes, along with few blank ones, and when you save him you’re going to break his nose and then kiss him until you can’t breathe—and slumping in the passenger’s seat as you pull onto the road.

It’s an eleven hour drive to Indiana, but this car is fast and smooth, and you don’t have anything to lose.

You think, if you’re smart, you’ll make it in nine.

It will be enough. It had taken too long to get Ruby to talk, too long to get on the road, too long to figure out where you’re going, but there are about fifteen hours left. Even if you hit all the worst traffic in the world, you should be okay. This will be okay. Dean is going to be okay.

“Do you have a plan?” Ruby drawls from the passenger’s seat, and you had promised not to kill her, but you don’t think anyone will really complain. “Or are you just going to start promising to stab people? Because that might work on things that can think, but the hellhounds aren’t going to care about threats-“

“It wasn’t a threat.” You mutter, glaring at the highway ahead of you. “I was going to kill you.”

“Please.” Ruby scoffs. “I’m just trying to make this easy, we both know you don’t use your little magic tricks-“

“I do now.” 

“What just because- God, is it because of Dean-“

“Ruby-“

“See that is what I was saying.” She lets out a dramatic sigh, slumping in her seat. “You could be so fucking cool. I mean, you can crush Hell’s Assassins into nothing with a thought, you can wander through a room full of monsters and demons and know no one will touch you, you could probably bring the angels down from heaven if you called, but-“

You shoot her a frown. “Angels aren’t-“

“They’re real.” She shrugs. “I mean, I’ve never met one, but they’ll be moving in on the game soon enough. And if you’re thinking they’ll help you, they won’t. They’ll be more afraid of you than the demons are, and they’re giant, feathered assholes so they’ll get really weird about it. That’s not what I’m getting at. I’m saying you could probably be one of the most powerful things in the world, but instead you want to play house with a man who likes pie and cars and is more emotionally constipated than an old school Hollywood actor.”

“Don’t talk about him like that.” You snap, your grip on the wheel growing white knuckled, and Ruby laughs.

“Why not. What exactly is he to you?” She drawls your name, and if this car wasn’t a gift from Dean, you’d slam the brakes so hard she flew out the windshield. “I mean, you’re all pathetic and needy about each other, and he left you behind but you’re still trying to save him. I’m sure there are words for that, but I think weak little bitches works just fine.”

You let out a long, slow breath, and the Darkness somehow knows to stay right on the surface of your body. You can’t afford distractions or wastes of energy, you can barely even afford the delay to pull over and refill the tank because Dean—in all his bouncing, proud, boyish and pretty joy to give you the car—had forgotten to do so after taking it for test drives.

“You know, this,” you gesture between yourself and Ruby with a hand, scanning over billboard signs for a rest stop. “Really doesn’t have to be a talking thing.”

“Why, so you can listen to the music Dean left you-“

You jerk the wheel as you switch lanes, just enough to make Ruby yelp.

“That wasn’t a suggestion.”

Ruby’s scowling as you pull into the rest stop. 

Good.

You can see her hideous, twisted and almost mauled face in her vessel, and you hope it gets stuck in an even more hateful expression, like an old wives tale. It would be beautiful, if Ruby’s face stayed so sour that everyone could see that ugly, rolling blackness of her true form. If whenever someone looked at her, they’d vomit all over her clothing.

For now, you’ll just settle for dragging her into the connivance store behind you, because there’s no goddamn way you’re leaving her with your car, and the gas pump has a little paper reading pay inside stuck to it. 

It’s almost empty, but you don’t bother to clock that as odd. It’s evening on a weekday in a flyover state, you weren’t really expecting more. There isn’t anyone out the checkout, but there’s a small bell you can ring, and if it comes down to it you’re more than willing to just jump the counter and handle this yourself, because there’s not enough time-

“Can I get a soda?”

You blink at Ruby. “You don’t even eat-“

“But I can, if I want.” She shrugs. “And I want a soda. It’s not like this won’t take a minute anyway, and I can steal it-“

“You- Don’t steal it-“

“Oh, c’mon, it’s not like you’re a saint, Princess.“

Now cannot be the time for the Darkness. You’re on a timer, and you need to just move and not burst this rest stop into fire and black oil, leaking onto the highway. You need that gas. You need that highway. 

To get to Dean. To fucking save Dean.

“Do not call me that.” You mutter through your teeth, leaning over the counter and trying to see into the back. “Go get your fucking soda.”

Ruby hums, and you hear her strolling away as you frown at the slightly ajar door of the backroom.

There’s no one in there. There’s really, truly, no one here. But there were other cars in the lot, and the station was unlocked. And the Darkness is singing in your body, starting to flow carefully with the White like it’s trying to draw its power, like for once they can come together on their own.

It’s still for Dean. Everything is only in harmony like this when it’s for Dean, and it seems the only thing every part of you can agree on is that tearing and shredding yourself is fine, but everything needs to come together for Dean.

You don’t have enough time.

And you’re about to turn and march back outside—you’ve siphoned enough gas in your life to know how to do it fast, and it’s not like anyone will be around to arrest you—when you feel it.

A blaring, loud alarm of the Darkness in your body, flashing in time with the White, making every hair on your body stand up and your hand fly to your knife before you can even register what’s happening. 

The blow to your head doesn’t fully knock you out. It’s a dull, throbbing pain in your skull that’s enough to pound the Darkness down on its own, and it drift you in and out of consciousness as violent, solid green hands drag you across the cold floor.

Something slams in the background, and you can hear low voices muttering words that you know, but can’t cling to long enough to understand. Only three really manage to push into your bruised skull, sparking the Darkness in your body.

Bitch.

That’s either you or Ruby. It doesn’t really matter. Whatever they did to Ruby, you hope it either hurt her, or did nothing at all so she can fly off to Indiana and at least try to do something with her worthless, insufferable self.

Whore.

Again, you or Ruby. But the same hand from before slams into your brow and makes your head roll, so somewhere the fog of your thoughts you work out that it’s you. You’re the whore. It feels like a heavier insult than it should be, because you’re not a whore. You’re barely even a warm body. You’re really just a heart that’s pounding in your ears, and Darkness that’s starting to lace into White, and everything else in the world but yourself. You’re the sterile, pained bleach of the tile, and the creak of the old plastic chair under your body, and the heaviness of the cuffs around your wrists. You’re the tedious movement of the clock on the wall, ticking by—not enough time—and the ache of your knife on the counter.

But you’re mostly, fundamentally, entirely-

Dean.

That’s their last word. Dean. Dean Winchester’s clock is almost up, and Lilith will take care of the bitch if we just keep an eye on the whore. 

The Silver starts to spark in your chest, and whatever pained they’d inflicted on your body becomes numb as you fuse yourself back together.

Dean. Dean Winchester’s clock is almost up, and you’re still hours away, and there’s not enough time. 

They don’t notice, when you open your eyes. The demons just keep rioting and pushing in their vessels—two very unfortunate high school kids, who’s faces will be added to your graveyard when this is done—with their backs turned and their voices low as you adjust to the blue, florescent light.

“Lilith say how long we need to hold her?” One of them—in a stringy boy who had a poorly done buzzcut—asks, and the other shrugs.

“Longer the better. I gave her a real good beating on the head, that usually good to keep a human out for a while-“

“You know this one isn’t human, and you remember what she did to the others-“

“She’s human enough.” The second demon snaps, and her vessel’s accent twangs with the words. “And she hasn’t killed one of us in years-“

“She killed Wes, Mickey, and Ursula, getting the-“

“I know she killed them, but they weren’t expecting it. We’re ready, the whore won’t get the jump on us-“

The first demon shakes his head. “She didn’t get the jump on them, she just-“ He snaps his fingers, and you bite your tongue as the sound echoes through the room. “And they were gone. Not killed and sent to the Empty, not banished back to hell, gone. If she wakes up and find out that Dean Winchester-“

“If she gets up.” She second demon hisses, and you take a slow, silent breath. The Darkness needs to stay down. “We’ll just knock her back under until we get the clear to go. She’s tied up, we just gotta keep her that way.”

That’s as good a cue as any. 

“And you think you’ll be able to? Keep me that way?”

The demons whip around, and while the first one has stilled—his vessel face bloodless in a way that would be amusing, if you weren’t fighting the sickness in your stomach made of Dean, in danger, Dean’s in danger—the other one stands a little taller, holding your gaze.

“Look who comes when she’s called.” The second demon mocks, leering at you with a smirk. “You hear us talking about good ol’ Dean and decide to join us? Tell us about your grand plan to save him, when he’s already as good as dead?”

“May,” the first demon warns, watching you wearily. “Don’t push her, if she breaks out it will fuck everything up-“

The second demon—May—scoffs, dismissing her companion with a hand. “Please, she won’t break out. There was a damn dent in her head, she probably can’t even think-“

“I can think.” You hum, raising your chin to hold May’s gaze. “And I can come up with some very detailed ways to hurt you, if you don’t let me go now.”

May rolls her eyes, but the first demons is smart enough to look worried.

“I- If she’s tied up, we can probably just leave her-“”

“Stop being a fucking pussy Phil.” May snaps, and you’ve never really thought of the Hell’s Assassin’s having names before this.

They were humans first. All demons were.

Maybe, in a better world, you’ll have the time one day to figure out what exactly causes a person to turn into a green demon.

This isn’t that world.

“Yeah, Phil.” You give him a sweet, toothy smile as the Silver starts to leak out of your body, into the cuffs. They’re tensed, locked in place, and if you ask nicely, maybe they’ll relax for you. “Stop being a fucking pussy. I don’t bite.”

“You shut up.” May hisses as Phil’s eyes widen. “I’m not afraid to leave another dent on that pretty, mortal head of yours-“

“It’s less mortal than yours.” You whisper, and the cuffs like your voice. You catch them, right before they clatter on the ground, and keep your hands behind your back. “I can kill you. You can’t kill me.”

Phil swallows. “She’s right-“

“You shut up too.” May snaps, but there’s something more cautious in her tone as she watches you. Her hand has glided down to hold her knife.

She’s worried.

Good.

“You don’t even know how you can kill us,” May drawls your name, but there’s no arrogance in her voice. “You just lose control, you bitch. I’m not that worried about a holy little whore who doesn’t even know what she is.”

You don’t know what you are. You don’t know how you’ve ever killed these demons, only that you wanted them gone, so the Silver obliterated them. You obliterated them.

And right now, you want Dean. 

It’s all you know. All you need to know. You love Dean, you want him, you need him, and he’s not allowed to die.

The Silver is starting to turn into a toxin, moving and flowing towards the demons, because they’re in the way. Nothing can be in the way of you getting to Dean. 

You smile at May, because she’s right, and so, so, horribly wrong.

You have no fucking clue exactly what you are. What you can do. 

But for once, the world in total harmony with the blinding, desperate fury in your body to get to Dean, and you are completely, totally in control.

And you smile.

“I don’t need to know what I am to kill you.” 

The cuffs drop to the floor, you rise to your feet and it’s all the warning they get before the Silver moves in.

It’s the same as it’s always been. Dean is in danger, and everything in you is going to wreck the world without pain until he’s safe. The Silver strikes into the green, toxic hated of the demons, and they’re shredded and shredded and twisted and pressed down until they’re just a fine mist that evaporates into nothing. Into another microscopic piece of the universe that you can fully feel, and that’s parting and moving however you ask it to.

You grab your knife on the counter, and this isn’t the blur, it’s the rush. You’re aware, but too fast for it to matter. Everything is Silver, and you will get to Dean. You fucking have to. There’s not enough time, but you have to.

You don’t give a shit where Ruby went, and you don’t have the time or care to look for her. You’re running to your car and starting the engine as the Silver roars and rips through the world, and you never did fill up the gas, but the car doesn’t seem to care. The engine is still sparking and turning because you need it to, and it might just be the haze of the rush, but as you speed down the highway cars seems to part around you, switching lanes to clear a path, clearing the way when you take an exit, slowing down to let you ahead because there’s not enough fucking time.

It’s starting to press on your soul. There’s not enough fucking time. The sun has long set and you’re still hours out, and the world is bending to your favor but there’s not enough time. The Silver is grinding some sort of gear around the lining of the universe to get you there faster, and make everything else move slower, but it’s getting tired so fast because you’ve never done this before. You’ve never hit this depth, where you are everything, and nothing matters to you but Dean, but you matter to everything. You’re asking the world to move, and it is, and you don’t care why but it has to.

For Dean.

The Sky is watching you. It’s all stars, blinking as casting pure white light, and it’s not doing anything. It hasn’t been watching you in so fucking long, but it’s here now, and it can see you, and why isn’t it fucking doing anything. If it can see that Dean Winchester is in danger, that you need him, why is the Sky just fucking watching and not doing anything-

When it starts, you almost crash the car.

The Spiderweb lights up with pain. Impossible, burning and searing and tearing pain, that’s worse than anything you’ve ever felt before. Your pain has always remained in your body, always brought you right to the verge of the plummet, but never shoved you into the fall.

You’re falling now. Everything is still moving too slow, and it’s all still big, but there’s really only the pain as phantom claws rip at the Spiderweb, and your vision starts to sting and blur. 

You can’t breathe. You can’t think. The Silver is crashing so fucking fast back into your body because you can’t fucking do anything, and you’re going to fucking fall apart, fall down, you’re going down, down, down, and this light is horrible and too bright and you want to go back, you were supposed have more time-

You have to pull over. Half fall out of the car as the White and the Darkness strain themselves apart, and it fucking hurts, God, it fucking hurts and you can’t- You can’t- You fucking can’t-

It’s as if the pain slams into a wall. Into an invisible barrier, as all the pain and light and color of the Spiderweb goes further down, and you’re stuck. Stranded. Suffocating on the cold night air as you remain trapped above the earth, and the Sky is branding into your skin but it’s just fucking watching. 

It won’t save Dean. It will make the air too clear and fresh in your lungs, and the grass on the side of the highway will grow softer as you fall to your knees, but it won’t save Dean.

You.

You didn’t save Dean.

The Spiderweb goes dark. It doesn’t shatter and fly apart, like the first time he left.

It just turns off. Like a light has been flipped, or the power source has been taken away, and there no more color in your body at all. 

And you know. You won’t need to see Sam and Bobby turn to you with broken expressions and soft words of apology. You won’t need to check your phone to see a million calls when they walk through the door tomorrow and you aren’t there.

Nothing needs to tell you. You just know. The same way you’d know if the atmosphere vanished, all life but yourself withered away, or every drop of water in the world went dry. 

Dean’s dead.

You failed. 

And there’s a brief frozen moment where the wind stops flowing, and the highway lights all grow brighter and brighter until the night is glowing. Swallowed in sparking, yellow light that might as well make it day, clouds moving over above you because Dean is dead and the Sky doesn’t get to see you cry.

The Darkness and the White have never been further apart in your body, almost recoiling from each other, getting ready for something that you don’t understand, but can feel coming anyway.

The world is bright.

You’ve never felt more. It’s too much, too big, too dark and bright all at once and you failed-

They collide. The Darkness and White crash together like two stars, but instead of one swallowing the other whole, they burn and burn and burn in your body until they’re only Silver.

Nothing has ever hurt you more.

Time doesn’t rush. It doesn’t blur. It just resumes. The world keeps turning.

Dean is fucking dead, but the world is daring to keep moving as if nothing is wrong at all.

Your first scream might be drowned out by the thunder. It might be the thunder.

You don’t really fucking care.

And as the Silver explodes out of the body and you just keep fucking screaming, some part of it recognizes the lingering stains of Gold on your car, and moves around it. The pavement of the highway cracks and rips up, the trees around you split and fall away, and the grass beneath your feet starts to grow and grow and flourish and bloom—as if  it can possibly create enough life to ever replace Dean—but the car remains perfectly intact.

It’s like a final gash on the Silver, and the whole world goes quiet. The rain is cold on your brow, but you can’t feel it over the cold in your body, can’t care about it because it’s mixing in with the salt of your tears and it’s all just fucking nothing. 

There’s no light.

Dean is dead.

You don’t know what to do. You’ll have to keep going. Dean would’ve killed you if you just turned into nothing, become a statue of a crouched, weeping something on the side of an overgrown and broken highway. And if you turn to stone, the clouds will move on, and the Sky will see you once more.

It really is watching you, now. You can feel it. Like it’s waiting for one last thing to bend and mold, until you’re just a little less than you are now. 

You didn’t save Dean. You’d promised him you’d save him, and you tried everything, tried to do it the right, safe way where you didn’t give in and Dean survived, but you failed.

And you don’t really want to be anything. The world is still Silver, but it’s not in a peaceful way. It’s the vastness of the hollow spaces between the stars into your body, the last shining part of you that’s all still calling for Dean.

You don’t think you’ll be able to look at his body. See his eyes without a soft, teasing light or furious anger in them, staring at nothing. He’ll be mauled, and barely recognizable. 

It’ll kill you.

But you’d still promised Dean you wouldn’t die with him. You’d pinky promised him. And you’ve already broken your end of the deal—keep him alive—but you don’t think you can live with yourself if you fail him again.

And everything is Silver.

And the world is still bending around you, as you take long, steady breaths. It’s dulled—almost everything desaturated and blurred around the edges—but it’s still here, and it’s yours.

You’re fucking done trying to be better. Be good. Be anything but the monster.

The monster would’ve saved Dean.

And the Sky is still watching. Still waiting.

You won’t bend for it.

But you think you can make it bend for you.

End Note: May the straying so fucking far from canon begin.

Thank you so so so much for reading!! If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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[yandereunsolved]

Yandere Castiel pining after a hunter—his creator betrayed him, so he found a new one.

"Hello mortal, it's me, Castiel."

Yandere Castiel met you after he betrayed heaven for the Winchesters. Cut off from his angelic powers, it was merely a matter of time before his grace dwindled away to humanness. He would be lying to himself if he said he did not fear. More than fear, there was this other fickle notion. This emotion gnawed inside his vessel's muscular organ situated in the mediastinum.

He truly thought God cared for his creations, but he had been brought back by this all-knowing entity, and for what?

He has no purpose except for aiding the Winchesters, which has only 'bitten him in the ass', as Dean says.

He's vulnerable... and that's when he stumbled upon you.

Yandere Castiel appeared out of thin air; well, that's how it appeared to you, seeing as how you are a mortal and are unable to see into other spiritual planes. He took down the monstrosities you had been hunting with relative ease. It left his angelic form wheezing as more of his grace was depleted. He should have simply left you, but something in him compelled him not to.

He introduced himself and naturally you were taken aback. He didn't elaborate any further when bombarded with questions. He offered to heal you.

Yandere Castiel followed you everywhere after that, like a lost hellhound looking for its owner. There was always an angel on your shoulder, more accurately, peering over your shoulder.

He even neglects prayers from the Winchesters and their allies to spend time with you. They did not appreciate him as much as you did. After all, he was only blasphemed and devalued around them. You thanked him, allowed him into your sleeping quarters, and shared private information with him that very few knew.

He already knew these things due to his, well, just being ethereal, but something in him said that he should keep that to himself.

When he could spare the grace, he would stay in his angel form so he could watch you uninterrupted. Apparently humans did not appreciate being looked upon so closely, despite the fact celestial beings are always looking upon humanity. It's another one of those human quirks he does not understand.

You were and still are a fascinating creature. He can't help but get attached.

Yandere Castiel is unsatisfied by the work your guardian angel has been doing. He is hardly able to call it protection, seeing as how Castiel always has to be the one to step in and take care of you. So he tears the wings off of that pitiful excuse and takes the grace from them.

He's keeping the both of you safe. It was only a matter of time before the angel reported his whereabouts to heaven and sent someone far more powerful to eliminate him. Then who would keep you safe? It certainly wouldn't have been the 'angel' heaven assigned to you.

When he appears to you with a stronger grace presence and blood coating him, you are naturally cautious. When you question him, he simply rebuffs and states that he was 'taking care of things'. He doesn't want you to worry, so he presses his lips to yours and makes you forget this little interaction.

It's addicting.

Is this what that abomination Sam Winchester felt when intaking demonic substance?

He still doesn't condone the vessel's actions, but he has a better understanding now.

Yandere Castiel abuses his divinity. Even with limited grace, he obtains it in other ways now. The more human part of him knows this is wrong, but the angel part of him says that this is righteous. It is, isn't it? He's serving humanity through one human. His human.

He isn't shy about those fleeting touches of his. He is often tempted to let you harm yourself in incrimental ways so he is able to step in and 'kiss your boo-boos'. It is another human phrase he has grown fond of, even despite its juvenile connotations. It isn't required that he has direct contact to heal your wounds, but you do not need to be made aware of that.

Unfortunately, he cannot prevent certain incidents from occurring. So he wipes your memory. All those negative emotions you felt towards him cease to exist. He is your sinless guardian, your angel, your soul mate.

He allows you to get high on his grace. All of your problems fade away, and there is only him.

In those moments, you see him how he sees you, as the only being in creation worth attention. 

Yandere Castiel thought it could not get any worse than ridding you of stray entities. Wherever God is, they must be either punishing him for his disobedience or testing his loyalty to his human. A cherub of all lower ethereal entities is trying to mark you with an enochian love sigil. Heaven is trying to force you to have an 'other half'.

His patience runs thinner than God's love.

He tried to use his words, but the cherub was just so persistent. He snapped all of the arrows first, then he grabbed his angel blade and plunged it into the love being's skull. That was after he tortured the information about this false soul mate those fuckers on high wanted to force upon you.

Your bloodline needed to be preserved because your line was fated to do something greater. He knows better than to trust the words of those in heaven. If your bloodline needs to continue, Castiel can always help you copulate.

So your 'soul mate' ends up dead. He binds your heart to his vessel's without your knowledge.

This is how it was always supposed to be.

Yandere Castiel has you with him now. You are undeniably attracted to him, which makes it so easy to persuade you. He is able to create distance between you and the hunter life. It's almost perfect, except for his apparent duty to the Winchesters.

He is confronted after neglecting them for nearly a year. He brushes it off like he has before, but they persist. He cannot allow you to be near them! They are the center of the world's supernatural troubles. His hand is eventually forced.

So he's fiercely protective, always a wing around you. Neither better get the faintest idea of wanting you. You're his.

[lenaellsi]

so you're anthony j. crowley, long-time exile from heaven and recent exile from hell, and you've finally figured out that the mess of overwhelming and infuriating and intoxicating feelings you've been harboring for the only being in the universe you've ever been able to rely on might, whoopsies, be something a little bit like love. but not love the way you remember heaven loved you, or the way they told you god loved you (they lied), but love like the humans do it: messy, and awkward, and incongruously infinite, and so, so fragile.

and, well. okay, you think. this'll be horrible. embarrassing for both of us, probably. but i'll tell him. you've never been a coward, no matter what the other demons might say. screw your courage to the sticking place, or whatever. macbeth. aziraphale loved that one.

so you talk yourself into it, you gather every scrap of courage and honesty you've got left, and you say, all right, angel, i've got something to say, only aziraphale's got something to say, too, and--

aziraphale doesn't love you back.

or. he does, but he loves the ghost of the angel you used to be, not the person you've made yourself since. he loves you, but he loves you like god did--loves you good, and quiet, and dull. he loves you without your grief, or your anger, without even that first bite of the apple. he wants you like that again, he says. defanged, like the Antichrist's domesticated hellhound.

(you worked for hell for a long time, and for god for a long time before that. you're intimately familiar with what it is to offer someone everything they've ever wanted, and then to twist it, to mutilate it, into an unrecognizable hell of their own choosing. you're not sure why it surprises you anymore. you're not sure why you keep letting the surprises hurt.)

and so you do the thing you've done since the beginning, because you've never been able to stop yourself: you push. you push hard, and you grab him, and he's so angry and you kiss him and you don't think about it, don't think about it, this is the most important temptation of your life, the only one that's ever mattered--

and he forgives you.

so you leave. at least that way you can do it before he does. you've always been a step ahead and to the left; stupid to think this would ever be different. stupid to think he might choose you, with all of heaven and earth spread out in front of him. nothing lasts forever, not even the stars.

he told you that a long time ago.

[mr-damian-s-power]

I really do think Beelzebub had the potential to be the most sinister of the Sins. She's the Sin of Gluttony and she encourages people to overindulge and act upon their vices (unless they're Mammon apparently) because she revels in excess, but what if there was a darker side to her?

Amongst the dregs of Hell, Bee is considered a blessing. A kind woman who will help those in need to find happiness and is always willing to lend a helping hand to the hapless nobodies. However, things are not always what they seem with her. In reality, she's a master manipulator and the biggest enabler in Hell. How she 'helps' people is by encouraging them to act upon their vices, not so subtly goading them into developing addictions. She always has a bountiful supply of products to feed into these addictions. Addictions they cannot financially support.

And who does she mainly target? Hellhounds and Imps! The lowest of the low, basically slaves! She builds a false sense of security and friendship with these poor Demons, pretending to understand what they're going through and making the friendless think they have someone who cares in this scary violent world. She preys upon the weak and vulnerable.

Due to her position and status, Bee has never had to worry about money issues. Her customer base however, they tend to reach the point where they can't support their addictions. Almost instantly, Bee will turn upon them, throwing herself a big pity parade about how betrayed she feels, threatening to cut off her customer. Unable to turn away from their addictions, they will beg for another form of payment, which is exactly what Bee has been waiting for. Her 'friends' will sell their souls if it means being able to feed their addictions, which Bee happily accepts.

At that point, Bee has won. She's earned another sucker's soul, where they will join her army of slaves to produce more of her delightful products, which will inevitably be used to lure in more unsuspecting victims.

Her influence is so strong that she has customers in practically every corner of Hell, all on her payroll. All suckered in by her kind facade and promises of numbing the pain.

-

Thoughts?

[foxtamer113]

Mortal Poseidon AU

Why is it in fics when Zeus discovers Percy's existence early, it's always Sally who gets killed off as punishment? Why not Zeus punishing Poseidon by turning him mortal? It's not like it's the first time he did that. Plus, makes more sense to me than why Apollo got turned mortal in TOA. Maybe, Zeus punishes Poseidon by making him mortal until the great prophecy is over, be it the sea spawn or someone else's.

Imagine mortal Poseidon awkwardly knocking on Sally's door with a sheepish look on his face, explaining what happened and asking her for help and a place to stay and in return he'll help with raising Percy and keep him out of trouble. And ofc, Sally helps him. She still loves him afterall. Also, Poseidon flirts with her, saying how thankful he is, and saying how wonderful she is.

Imagine little Percy being confused at seeing a new guy in their living room, making his mom laugh. Sally introduces Poseidon as Percy's dad, he finally was found after being lost in sea for years! (Poseidon raised an amused eyebrow at that, but played along) Percy is ofc ecstatic! He's so happy his dad returned! Also, It means mom wouldn't have to date that weird stinky man she met at the store!

So, yeah. The first few weeks of them living in a tiny apartment. Sally working during the day, teaching Poseidon how to clean and cook and normal mortal things he doesn't know by night. Poseidon trying to get used to being a mortal while trying his best to protect Percy when walking his son to school and back, thankful that he had the foresight to assign some loyal Cyclops to watch over his son so he was able to get a decent weapon from them.

A typical day for him is waking up to Sally softly shaking him awake as she's about to leave for work, Poseidon taking a quick shower to energize himself and get started with preparing Percy's school bag, packing up the homework they did together last night, and a quick ham and cheese sandwich and juice box for lunch, before waking up his son in fun ways, such as, tickling him awake, or pulling his blankets away, etc. 'cooking' breakfast aka 2 bowls of cereal (for now until he learns more), amusedly watching his son run around trying to get ready for school, making sure he has his weapon hidden on him, walking his son to his primary school, waving him goodbye at the gates, patrol the area for monsters and slay them before they get to close, try and practice any of his powers, Zeus didn't take them all, since he still gets healed and energized by water. Talk to the river nymphs to pass on messages to Atlantis, just updates on how he's doing, pick up his son from school, visit Sally in the candy shop with Percy, go home, help Percy with homework, with a lot of water and sea comparisons, 'help' Sally with making dinner (her teaching him how to cook), listening to Percy retell what happened in school during dinner, watching Sally tuck in Percy for the night, and repeat.

Maybe Percy saw his dad slay a monster when they were walking home, maybe a hellhound got too close, and is ofc, scared and confused. But his dad saved him so he trusts him. And Poseidon promised to explain what happened once Sally is home with them, they'll explain together. And Percy, frustrated at being asked to wait, but reluctantly agreed, he wants his mom anyways after that scare, stayed close to dad the rest of the walk, eyeing every alleyway, paranoid.

When Sally got home, Poseidon pulled her aside and explained what happened, telling her that they need to explain to Percy what he is, and that he needs to start going to camp. Ofc, Sally refuses, she'll agree to explaining that monsters are real and that Percy needs to be careful, but not to camp, he's only 8 yrs old! Why can't Poseidon just protect her baby like he said he will? Poseidon points out that Percy needs to learn how to protect himself someday, and he can't be with him all the time, like in school, and, how about a compromise? Percy goes to camp once per week, maybe on Saturdays, he'll even let Sally inside the barrier to oversee Percy's training, once he talked with Chiron about the arrangement. Plus, there's a 8 yr old girl in camp that just joined last year, maybe Percy can have a friend that understands his troubles? And Sally reluctantly agrees. Once a week, and she gets to watch.

So, they explained everything to Percy, that monsters are real, he's a demigod, and dad is/was a god, and that he's sorry for leaving them, but it was the Law, and that he needs to go to Camp to learn how to fight monsters.

Once in camp, Annabeth got curious at the new kid who's her age, who has his mom and dad with him, with Chiron bowing to the dad, and answering the mom's questions. The dad, somehow, agreed to be the water fighting instructor, for once a week when his child was at camp, and the mom gets to supervise his camp activities. The new kid doesn't sleep in any cabin since he always went home after campfire with his parents. Annabeth, determined to get to the bottom of this mystery, started to go out of her way to talk to him. And slowly became friends with him. Once Annabeth told him how she loved playing with Legos, Percy brought his small bucket of Legos with him the following week to play with her. Once, Percy complained about a history essay he had to finish by Monday, and Annabeth helped him write it in between their (ahem) 'child-level' training. (They're 8! Way too young for the normal training level.)

Poseidon cheekily waving hi to Dionysus, enjoying being in the presence of kids who think he's so cool, and able to leave camp whenever, only teaching once a week and able to freely interact with his kid.

Sally bringing cookies for Percy and his new friend Annabeth to snack on in-between studying and training, the one who has a box of colorful bandages for small cuts and bruises, not serious enough for nectar/ambrosia/medbay, (Chiron warned her that too much will burn them up literally, and it's easier to overdose with how small they are, so, iodine and bandages for scrapes and bruises for now) and a camera to record her baby's achievements no matter how small. First time canoeing with dad? Snap! First time wearing armor? Snap! First time campfire s'mores with Annabeth? Snap!

This! Gods, I have so many ideas for this au. Please, if anyone writes this, please tag me.

[hbheavensent]

Beelzebub/Vortex

Boy oh boy they are so deceptively healthy!!! Let's get into it ⋆.˚

For Bee's design, I really wanted to keep her general "overwhelming" look. I've always sorta loved how Beelzebub looks, it makes a lot of sense for the Gluttony Sin to be A LOT to look at. That being said, I took away her fire motif as that is sorta given to too many characters and I changed her colors to match her "formal" look (which I HEAVILY prefer). I also put a little splatter marking around her mouth like she has food on her muzzle, which I think is sorta cute :333 ALSO I wanted to bring in the BEE in her design, esp her Big Fuckoff Demonic form. So I turned her normal tail into a little stinger in both looks and kept the antenna on her ears. I also decided a horrible maw of teeth on the underside of her tummy is a good move, just in general it adds some body horror. Also, naturally, I put some meat on her bones and she will no longer be ✨weirdly fatphobic✨. She can be chubby and still the hottest girl in the room and it's weird that she was skinny in the first place. As for her personality, I still want her to be surface level very pleasant and fun loving. For sure some mean girl vibes and very manipulative as all temptations are. She's the type to get someone high and one they're having a Shitty Time to leave them alone because they're a "buzzkill". Her dating Vortex is a majority because she's bored and she's had other partners in the past. Of all of the sins she's the one that "hangs with the color class" the most. Once Vortex doesn't scratch that itch for her, she'll be gone pretty quickly without a any real explanation. She's always chasing honey so to speak, a new high. I also wanted to focus in on her making The Pounds in Gluttony for Hellhounds, like I touched on in Loona's post. She not only is the reason for so many orphans/unwanted Hellhound pups, making parents of these kids be in compromised positions and having them addicted to substances, but she also made the shithole that the pups would go to. And while there's something to be said about her making the thing in the first place, she only cared enough to create the idea and not monitor it, why would she? Hellhounds live and die so fast, she's eternal, it's a speck to her despite her having more empathy than most sins.

At the very least, she's not judgmental, she knows that it certainly isn't her place to be. This is also probably a good place to talk a bit about what I'm doing WITH the sins. I'm going with the telling of them being former Angels that fell after The Apple Thing. Lucifer being the only one acting of his own volition to DO The Apple Thing and basically groom Lilith and Eve into a relationship before they even had FREE WILL (why does not one talk about that?? help????) Anyway, Bee was the third to fall and it was mostly due to messing with Earth's Plants and MAKING illicit substances able to be made. * I MIGHT change that, since in The Bible, Beelzebub falls because they go against Adam's wishes but it doesn't make sense with the timeline I'm workin with * The Sins are destined to be what they are the second Sin is created, Beelzebub can't help how she acts as much as Mammon couldn't help picking up a dollar on the ground. It's a compulsion at the end of the day and an eternal punishment that SOME have taken better than others. Bee is a prime example of leaning into it fully and trying to keep upbeat, sure she may never see Heaven again but she's having a hell of a time. Just hope she never gets sober or has a party go poorly because THAT is when it's dangerous. (I plan to showcase this eventually and give her a reason to dislike Loona/Blitz). But there's more Sin Stuff to get into laterer and NOT right now. AS FOR VORTEX, my sweet boy. I always really liked how normal he was in cannon. Just a Good Dude who can be a bit silly, which is exactly the type of guy Bee would go for (this century). Vortex comes from an Actually Together Family in the Lust ring and still works for Verosika as a guard when she's in Hell (currently reworking succubus magic so we'll get there when we get there). So, due to his family, Vortex is accidentally sort of ignorant of how MOST Hellhounds live. Loona has a earring in her ear where her Pound Tag was ripped out, Vortex has a earring there because he saw a bunch of other Hellhounds doing that and only realized after that fact because of Loona WHY Hellhounds have earrings there. Vortex also sorta fell into this relationship with Bee, and he very much sees it more seriously than she does. I don't think Loona talking to him about it would be enough to convince him that Bee is a bad person, sorta has rose colored lenses on for his girlfriend, but this is a DOOMED relationship. For Vortex's look, I didn't change much really- I just realized he looks SO much like Loona. Literally "siblings or dating". So. That sums up what I did with him besides what's literally in the image.

AND as a treat for such a longggg post-

Here's the silly height lineup we have so far

[lucifers-rubber-duck]

𖤓 Can we keep them? 𖤓

Characters: Charlie, Lucifer, Alastor, Angel & Husker.

Warnings: None.

Summary: Reader suddenly appears with a baby Hellhound on their arms and asks to keep them, what would their reactions be?

𖤓Charlie

• She's extremely surprised when you appear with a baby Hellhound on your arms, even more when you asks if you could keep them.

• She would probably say yes without thinking, with her eyes shining of how cute the little dog looks, before she quickly shakes her head and tries to stand her ground better.

• She would probably lecture you of how much of a responsability it is to adopt a Hellhound, especially when they're still little and can't do much by themselfs, she would probably also info dump to you about them.

• She makes you promisse that if you're going to keep them you'll take good care of them, she actually helps a lot since she grew up taking care of Razzle and Dazzle. She acts like the cool aunt of your new baby.

• She's probably the best influence you could get for your child, she's just the sweetest and will help you teach the baby what's right and wrong, will read them bedtime stories, will teach them to sing and to dance. She's simply the best person you could ask for.

𖤓Lucifer

• He's a little confused at first, he never put much thought onto the creatures of Hell, but the moment you show him the cute puppy's face, he's melting and allowing you to keep it.

• He would try to help to take care of them but wouldn't be very good at it, he never did a proper research on the beings of Hell, he disliked sinners already, he saw no reason to even pay attention to the other beings his past actions had created.

• But after you adopt the little hound, he will personaly go talk to Beelzebub and ask her what he should do. He asks her tips, about the best snacks to give them, how many baths should a pup get by a day, he's going full dad mode.

• He doesn't take care of a child since Charlie was little and everytime your new baby runs to his arms when he walks in the room to say hi he's in the verge of tears, he'll hold your child on his arms and act like he's the actual father.

• Don't even think twice if you need anything for your pup, he's going to give it. They got sick and need a doctor? He's calling someone from the Ring of Sloth just for them. Need diapers or clothes? Boom, they're already at your door. Want to take your child somewhere fun? He'll give you two free access to his theme park Lu Lu Land all rights reserved.

• Man is just happy to be able to experience being a father all over again.

𖤓Alastor

• The moment you show him the Hellhound you can hear static piercing your ears and the air getting colder, a green energy coming out of him as his antlers grow bigger and his eyes turn dark with only red dots to be found in them.

• You get that it's a no pretty quickly and hides the puppy away before he can do anything about it.

• But you're not known for giving up easily and keeps the Hellhound even so, making sure they never get too close to Alastor, and by to close I mean in the same room, breathing the same air.

• You'll have to try your best to make Alastor slightly fond of the puppy. First trying to give up some signs that you wanted to adopt a baby, then start talking about all the perks a Hellhound has and then later slowly introduce both of them in the same spaces.

• Is like showing your old pet your newer pet and praying they get along, but the old pet in question is a powerful Overlord that can easily kill both of you and broadcast your screams to all of Hell and the new pet is a creature that is in the bottom of Hell's hierarchy.

• After weeks of trying he would just let you be to be honest, he says you can keep it if you stopped annoying him about and forcing him to interact with them. But sometimes you would find yourself trying to calm him down because the Hellhound decided to walk too close to him or even chewed a part of his coat off.

𖤓Angel

• He probably wouldn't mind and say that you could stay with them, it's not his business, it's yours, you do what you want.

• Would eventualy grow attached to the hound, probably not as much as some others, but he does enjoy their company.

• He likes being the bad influence and would 100% teach your child swear words. He wouldn't be as inappropriate around them tho, he knows his limits and was scolded by you enough times about his actions around such a young figure.

• I think if the hound ended up getting friends with Fat Nuggets he would care more, he treats his little pet pig as his own child and would find it rather adorable if they got along togheter, you know for sure he's snapping photos.

• Likes to play dress up with you and your child, he would already lend you some clothes and help you take care of your skin or paint your nails, etc. He would do the same with your Hellhound, dressing them up to look all fancy, brushing their fur and giving them little accesories. Y'all probably have matching shirts he buyed for fun.

• “Where did you found them again toots?”; “Doesn't matter, check out this new trick they learned.”

𖤓Husker

• Would probably say something like “I'm not your dad, do whatever the fuck you want” and keep going with his day.

• He would try to ignore the Hellhound as much as he can, he doesn't like children very much and his cat instincts can get the best of him sometimes, making him hiss at the sight of the dog.

• But he'll definitely call you out if you end up doing something wrong while taking care of them, he says he doesn't care while teaching you the proper way to hold and to feed them. If you ask how he has so much experience he'll flip you off.

• After some time with the Hellhound around, he'll start to accept babysitting them if you ever need to go out to work or to do a importat thing, don't blame him if the pup ends up learning a bad word tho, you are the one leaving them with a drunk bartender in his bar.

• The Hellhound and him would start to go really well together and you would find them sleeping in the couch of the hotel's lobby when you return late to the hotel thanks to work, your now adopted child sleeping on top of the man's chest, snoring and with Husker's wing around them both.

• You took a photo just to always remember the sweet moments and maybe use against Husker if you needed a favor from him, it always works and you get cute photos so it's always a win-win for you.

[helluva-squid]

I know there's so much to unpack about the character development of Stolas and Blitz, but I just want to talk about Loona for a sec.

She seems so much happier! And they didn't show that by drastically changing her personality - she's still blunt and brash and a little lacking in tact. But when she joined the gang on their mission, she not only immediately clocked when Blitz was upset, but offered actual comfort. She called him dad, put an arm around him, and even gently volunteered to get the job done for him.

During the fight at the palace, she got stuck right in to help save Stolas - but most of all, it wasn't until Andrealphus was directly threatening Blitz that she brought out her full hellhound form. She almost lost her dad once to that prick, and she sure as hell wasn't gonna let it happen again.

And she has friends! Other hellhound friends! Friends that she invites to holiday parties at her house. Friends that she isn't embarrassed to introduce to her dad, and who in fact seem to like Blitz. Most of all, Loona wanted Blitz to come hang with her and her friends during the party.

Though we don't know the exact details, we do know that Loona had a rough life before Blitz - clearly abandoned by whatever biological family she had, trapped in the hellhound equivalent of an orphanage/residential home, and facing the imminent threat of being thrown out on the streets. During the trial, she almost lost her second family, the one she's been able to scrape together over the years, and I think it made her confront how much she's been holding the world at arm's length this whole time.

I'm just so happy she finally feels safe enough to bring down that prickly shield and let people into her heart. And I really hope we get to see that develop more through season 3, with not just Blitz but Stolas too (can you imagine them bonding over making bitchy comments about the clients that come in to the office I need it directly in my veins)

[doodler16]

I’m sorry but the “full hellhound form” of the hellhounds is so ugly. It’s just a bipedal version with extra eyes and nothing else. And sometimes the eyes aren’t on the face they’re like floating?? And its so annoying how fans will hound (haha) you for doing a different full hellhound form if you don’t like the canon version. I’m a fan who has a hellhound oc and I made my own full hellhound form because the one in show is not scary or interesting at all.

Yeah, Loona’s full demonic hellhound feral form is ugly to look at. It’s just her completely on four legs, acting like a dog/rabid wolf, and ugly extra eyes. Her full hellhound form also gives more questions than answers.

How long has she had this form for? Why didn’t she use it in previous episodes? Does it only activate when Blitzø is in trouble or when she is super mad? Why are her clothes still on, shouldn’t everything be completely gone? Do other hellborns that are on the bottom able to have feral form or is it just hellhounds?

[cranberryjuice-posts]

HELLO?? I LOVE YOUR CLARISSE FANFICS I EAT THEM UP EVERY SINGLE TIME!!! ok ok so i was wonderingggg if you could do dior goodjohn x (actor/singer) reader! their in this interview together just the two of them for percy jackson, the interview makes reader uncomfortable and then clarisse is just like protecting reader! then when they get home they get blasted with edits of them but if you don’t do fanfics of the actors that’s totally ok because i have one for clarisse! clarisse la rue x (athena) reader! the reader and clarisse where friends before clarisse got sent to camp haft blood and so like about 3 years later reader gets sent there too, reader doesn’t recognize clarisse before clarisse says this one things that makes reader remember (you can decide on what she says! would be amazing if their could be like a makeout sesh😋😋) TY IF YIU SEE THIS AND YK MAKE THE FSNFICS AHH LOVE YOUR WRITING

You know where to find me — and I know where to look

Pairings - Clarisse La Rue x Fem! daughter of Athena! Reader

One of your earliest memories was when you were 13. Running around with clarisse in your private catholic boarding school, skipping class and watching as she would constantly get into fights.

You both looked after eachother, clarisses mom was enlisted in the army thus she lived with her grandma who wasn’t the nicest and you.. well your dad seemed to only care about you when he needed something solved.

Forcing clarisse to sit on the schools bathroom sink counter you started to clean a cut on the girls cheek. Not wanting to even think about how you’ll get the blood off her light blue uniform top. “It’s not even my fault!” The young girl yelled. “If Jeremiah thinks ‘slap ass Friday’ is so funny then maybe he should get his ass beat every now and then”

You just nodded following along with what the girl spoke. Moving a frizzy curl out of the girls way you noticed how she scoffed. “I should just cut this off” she grabbed the loose curls shoving them into her messy ponytail. “Don’t do that” you sighed pulling her hands away from her hair. “You Just Need some help to keep your curls nice that’s all”

Clarisses cheeks flushed, she shoved your hands away as she looked to the side. “Whatever”

“Hey!” A teacher aggressively busted into the bathroom. “Skipping class really?! Both of You principal office now!”

Clarisse grabbed your hand pushing past the teacher and down the private schools halls. You laughed as you followed the girl around the school, running down the stairs and past the nuns.

Shoving into a janitors closet and shutting it before the teacher could catch up. You panted while clarisse who Just practically ran a marathon was fine. Turning on the light you plopped down onto a pair of stacked chairs. “How are You able to do that!?”

“Do what?”

“Run like That and not even be tired” you questioned. Clarisse just shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t really know I just am I a guess” she sighed sitting on a shelf.

Finally catching your breath you looked over “Hey clarisse?”

The girl set the tool she had been messing with down. “Yeah?”

“Will we always be best friends?” You quietly asked. Paying attention as clarisse had an annoyed look on her face she soon nodded. “Yeah.. cause you’ll always know where to find me”

You rolled your eyes “well I always know where to look” chuckling you reached out with your pinkie. Clarisse followed suit latching here onto yours. You knew what was between you and clarisse was far away from platonic but what did you know you were just some 13 year old kid.

The next morning clarisse was gone. Not a word not a letter nothing.. she had just left

You promised yourself you would never forget her. At first it started with not remembering how she spoke, then you forgot her face, and soon enough even her name you had completely forgotten.

———

Three years later.

After being chased by a hellhound and a few other angry monsters you found yourself at camp halfblood.

The weeks sorta merged together. However once you were claimed by Athena everything seemed to change, new found siblings. People wanting to be your friends and now finally not feeling like you were alone.

Through out your weeks at camp you had heard about a girl named clarisse. The name sounded familiar but you couldn’t place it exactly. The fact the mysterious girl avoided you to didn’t help either.

—

Annabeth Open the door agressivly throwing her dagger onto the bed. “What’s wrong?” You asked looking up from your book. “Nothing nothing.. I just got paired to lead a training class with clarisse”

“And what’s the problem?”

“She’s terrible What do you mean ‘what’s the problem’” your sister scoffed crossing her arms.

“I just meant that clarisse hasn’t done anything to me personally.. I don’t think I’ve even met her before” shaking your head you returned to your book.

Annabeth stayed quiet for a moment before grabbing the boom out of your hand. “Fine then, if you’ve never met her before then you should go lead the class with her.. besides it’ll be good for you”

Begrudgingly you accepted. Leaving your cabin you headed towards the arena, dagger strapped at your thigh.

—

The arena was loud and well… sweaty. Joining the kids who were sparring you made your way to a girl who stood crossed arm wearing Greek armor. “Uh hi? Your clarisse right” You stepped up to her. “I’m annabeths sister she wasn’t feeling well so I’m here to help you uh lead the class”

“You have any experience in battle” she rudely spoke not looking at you. “No b—“

“Then get lost I don’t need any dead weight” she scoffed before turning her attention back to the other campers who were sparring. “Hey! Did I not just say to stop stepping out!!”

You looked at the girl with a irritated face. “I’m not dead weight I can help”

Clarisse grabbed her spear before she harshly turned towards you. Just as she was going to say something she stopped. Looking at you for a second clarisse seemed to calm down. “Y/n?” She quietly asked.

Stepping back some you looked around confused. “Uh yeah.. that’s my name” you nodded awkwardly.

She took her helmet off tossing it aside looking at you excitedly. “It’s me? Remember? no fucking way your a demigod to! I should of guessed you were always the top of our class— gods how have you been”

At this point you were weirded out. “I’m sorry but I don’t know you..” She furrowed her eyebrows slightly fustrated. “What do You mean you don’t know me? We were best friends”

You just shrugged your shoulders apologetically. Clarisse nodded taking a moment to think before grabbing your hand, forcing it into a fist with your pinky sticking out. She linked her pinky with yours and gave you a slightly annoyed look. “You know where to find me”

It took you a few seconds to register what she said. After an uncomfortable amount of silence clarisse sighed, before she could pull away however you tightly linked your pinky with hers “and I know where to look” You smiled “oh my god clarisse!” you laughed hugging the girl tightly.

Some of The campers around stopped what they were doing, shocked at the fact clarisse was being hugged by a pretty girl. Quickly returning to what they were doing after receiving a hateful glare from clarisse.

The strong girl hugged you back tightly, allowing you to pull back you continued to grin. “Look at You! Wow you’ve gotten so pretty, and strong to gods” laughing you reached out to touch the girls face before noticing her hair. “And your hair— see what did I say all you needed to do was learn to take care of it properly”

A familiar rush flooded your body. How clarisses hands were now squeezing your hips with her body close to yours- so close you could smell her pine cologne. Your cheeks turned red once you realized you were playing with the girls hair

Clearing your throat you pulled back completely taking a few steps away from her. “Sorry I just uh.. I got to excited”

Clarisse shook her head “don’t worry about it.. anyways uh if you still wanna help with all this just grab a sword from over there ok”

You smiled in response. It had been years since you felt like that, Clarisse for some reason always made you get flustered… but that didn’t mean anything.

———

Over the next week you found yourself spending every free second with clarisse.

It was like a breath of fresh air. You both had changed a-lot from being 13 to 16 but the same spark was still between you both. You found it amusing how she could go from an Absolute bully to a sweet heart towards you.

What didn’t help was how attractive the girl was. Her muscular arms and face that was meant to wear greek Armor made you go weak in the knees. Being gay was something you came to terms with years ago but finding yourself falling in love with your best-friend was just cringe. Out of all the girls at camp you choose clarisse.. really

——

The best part of camp in your opinion was the bondfire. Being able to sit around a cozy setting with friends and family warmed your heart in more ways than one.

After some time you were approached by a girl named Willow who you later found out was a daughter of Hermes.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like her. She was tall, strong and had a charming face, And she clearly seemed to like you to. “Don’t lie to me pretty girl you’ve seriously never had your first kiss”

Shaking your head you let out a soft laugh. “No never, actually I’ve never had a girlfriend before” Willow scoffed, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear she leaned forward some. “Well.. I can offer an easy solution to both those problems— that is if you would like it” she tilted her head some.

Before you could answer however clarisse shoved Willow back from where she was making her almost fall out of her seat. “Clarisse what the fuck!”

“She’s not interested Willow, instead of preying on girls who don’t want you why don’t you go fuck around with one of your ex”

Campers looking over, embarrassed enough as it was you Grabbed clarisses arm pulling her away. Quickly finding the Athena cabin you threw the girl inside. “What was That” you almost yelled.

“What was What” she continued to play innocent, now messing around with you stuff— grabbing s mechanical pencil to mess with. “Stop Just stop! Clarisse a girl was finally showing Interest in me—-“

“Yeah a fuck girl who only wants to finger you then break your heart but god forbid I look out for you right!”

“I don’t care about that! It’s still the matter of fact someone liked me and you just—“

“Did you ever stop to think there might me other girls out there better than Willow who like you!”

At this point you were beyond frustrated. “Gods can You stop interrupting me!” You watched as clarisse awkwardly shifted her stance, now feeling bad you sighed walking over to the girl hugging her. “I know I’m new to this whole demigod life and you have no idea how thankful I am for having you here”

Clarisse squeezed you slightly. After a few moments you laughed. “What did you mean by ‘other girls here like me’ I’ve only been here for what like a month?” Clarisse didn’t respond however her actions told you otherwise. The shifting in her feet, the way her eyes avoided yours, how she held you— fuck clarisse liked you.

Once you realized it the daughter of ares knew you already figured it out. She cursed under her breath for a moment but was soon caught up in the fact you had grabbed her face and kissed her. The kiss only lasted for a second even though it wasn’t that great of a kiss it got the point across. “I like you I like you a lot actually uh clarisse your super cool and sweet and I ju—“ you started to anxiously ramble until she cut you off with yet another kiss this time it being more directed and sweet.

Pulling away you smiled, keeping your lips close to the girls “you know what I love about you.. how you always let me finish my sentences” the opposing girl just rolled her eyes making you laugh once again

———

Once you returned to the campfire you were confused as to why people were making teasing remarks at you and clarisse.. until annabeth pointed out your now messed up hair, flushed cheeks, wrinkled shirt and lastly the growing hickey on your neck.

———

Y/n - you are a sociopath these look like you tried to strangle me

Clarisse - Yeah Well you weren’t complaining when I was leaving them there

—

[nobledragonflying]

boy and his dog au that ive been thinking about

So Edwin was born in 1900 to a wealthy/high class family with hunting dogs. When Edwin was a little bit older (5 or 7) a new litter was born and he was able to pick a puppy for himself. The dog had brown fur and dark brown eyes. He named the dog Charles. It was his first pet, and dog, which he loved dearly and did not use him for hunting, but rather as a friend and protection from other boys. Eventually Charles got old and dies. Another litter of puppies got born a week later and there was another dog with brown fur and dark brown eyes. Edwin claimed that one and named him Charles, bc of how similar this one is to the previous Charles. Also the grief. 

Eventually Edwin leaves for St. Hils, only coming back for holidays and as the new Charles aged the more he seemed like the old Charles, even growling at people that he had not met before but previous Charles did. Anyways Edwin gets sacrificed to Hell, gets passed around from demon to demon before ending up with the babydoll spider as usual. But one day, as he is running, he hears the sound of a barking Hellhound. He knows that this run is over, but he still has to try even as the Hellhound catches up and eventually catches him. 

Edwin thinks he's going to be torn apart bc that happens everytime he is caught but nothing happens except that the dog begins to...fuss? over him????? He is able to turn over to see a, relatively, young Hellhound with four eyes the color of dark brown. And even though the snout is too long and the fur is literally flickering with Hellfire, Edwin knows that this is Charles, his Charles who has followed him into Hell.

Edwin gets out this run, on back of his longest companion and oldest friend. However, when they reach the door to get out, Edwin getting off of Charles' back for just a second and opening the door, the baby doll spider catches up. Charles pushes Edwin out and closes the door. The last thing Edwin hears is the sound of fire crunching and the whimper of Charles dying. 

Edwin gets out 16 years earlier. He stays and haunts St. Hils just for the off chance that Charles is somehow able to get out of Hell. Though he does search for ways to open a door to Hell, it is very hard to do without 1) selling your soul and 2) summoning a demon also. During his 14th year out of Hell a transfer student enters St. Hils with Hellfire under his skin. Edwin, not wanting to be caught, stays away from the kid. 

Two years later the kid goes against his friends to save another kid that they were beating on, gets dumped in the pond for his troubles and internal bleeding. The kid makes his way to the attic eventually. Edwin thinks his name is Daniel and goes to him, ready with spells and runes just in case. But when he brings the lantern light to the attic he hears-

“Who’s there?”

“You can see me?” Edwin says, stepping in front of Daniel, who has damp hair and dark brown eyes that are too old on his young face. Edwin can feel the Hellfire underneath both of their skins, which reaches out and connects them. 

“Edwin?” Asks the boy wrapped in a too thin blanket, hopeful and relieved. 

“Charles?” Asks the boy holding the warm lantern light.

[samsno1]

Honesty

Sam Winchester x Reader

lmao, i'm sorry. this is kind of an au where instead of sam getting the trials...you do! haha......might make a second part to this but i'll see how it'll do. also, in this there isn't the stupid "sam doesn't look for dean in purgatory" because the writers were fucked up when they wrote that, respectfully (or not)

Summary: You finally have a chance to close the Gates of Hell, forever, but everything comes with a cost, the question is, are you willing to pay for it?

Warnings: ANGST, love confessions, sad sammy, kisses, reader sees bobby as a father figure, reader is shorter than Sam, NOT PROOF-READ, english is not my first language

WC: 3.7k

You can learn how to change Y/N for your actual name here

enjoy!

As you lie there, soaked in hellhound's blood, panting after a fight against the creature, the glasses you wore to be able to see it dirty and obstructing your view, Sam and Dean stare at you, frozen and horrified.

You knew they would try and talk you out of doing the trials, especially after Dean's words to both you and Sam before he went on to almost get killed by the hellhound. Of course you two had followed him, even if Dean explicitly said not to, and you ended up under the dog, his disgusting breath fanning on your face as he barked above you, trying to rip your neck off. You knifed it and it quite literally exploded over you, bathing you in his gooey substance.

Now, all of you were in a room, Dean pacing back and forth while Sam just stood with his head down. You had your arms crossed, your eyes accompanied Dean's movements. He was restless, probably angry and desperately trying to find a way to counter this.

“We can find another hellhound,” He argues “I kill it then it's all solved”

“Dean, Crowley will be even more on our asses over this, he will not let his dogs out of the leash” You say, calmly, trying to counter Dean's protectiveness in the lightest way possible. “I can do them”

After you said that Dean stopped pacing around and both him and Sam looked up at you, eyebrows furrowed, almost as if you had just admitted to an unforgivable crime. The crime in the case was wanting to protect the brothers from these crazy trials. You knew how death followed them around like a plague and you couldn't handle losing them.

“No, Y/N, you're not doing these trials” Sam speaks up, a tinge of anger in his tone. Anger, worry. He looked at you, his hair casting a shadow over his face because of the poor lightning in the environment. “You could die”

“Well, too bad Sam” You said and the boys shared that look, a silent conversation between both of them, something that pissed you off in these moments because you had the right to know what they were plotting. “Look, I know you two feel like you have some responsibility over me, this…instinct to protect me ever since Bobby…” You trailed off, the memory of the man you considered to be your father still too heavy on you. Sam frowned and Dean changed his position, on edge. You cleared your throat, the sudden lump bothering you. “But I can protect myself, I can fight my own battles and, honestly? If we do close the gates of hell for good, which battles will be there to fight?” You say with a faint smile.

You look between both of them. They seemed deep in thought. Too deep and that worried you. You slowly walked towards Sam and when he took notice he stiffened up, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed harshly, his eyes taking in your rather dirty appearance. But still beautiful, he mentally stated.

Sam always thought you were the most incredible woman he ever met, invincible even, nothing could ever put you down and you could make everything work your way with your amazing mind and skills. And, obviously, your killer looks always managed to stun him every time, everywhere.

He was used to seeing you in any type of clothing, from suits and dresses to sweats and shirts with corny sayings written in the front, which you argued were comfortable. And you always looked absolutely gorgeous wearing anything. Sam used to think he just admired you, the looks from afar were just friendly appreciation, his yearn to be around you was just a protective instinct, the goosebumps on his skin when you’d touch him were just a natural reaction…

Until it wasn’t just. It was. And that was horrifying.

And it got worse when both you and him spent the last year alone looking for Dean and Cas. Spending so much time beside you made Sam realize what he truly felt towards you and he was scared. Scared to say anything and scared to lose you. So, when you killed that hellhound, his heart fell to his stomach because he knew you would want to do the trials. 

And when you stretched your hand to him, looking directly in his eyes, that determined gaze of yours slicing through his soul, he knew you would do anything to go along with this.

“Sam, give me the spell” You said firmly, not a request, a demand. He swallowed again, still speechless, still frozen, his fist tightening around the small paper which contained the words in enochian you were supposed to recite for the trials to start. You emphasize your demand by widening your eyes angrily and doing ‘come here’ motions with your stretched hand. “Sam”

“Y/N-”

“Dean.” You interrupt, anger seeping into your tone, making Dean shut his mouth into a thin line and a huff of air come out of his nose, just like a child would do when it was refused candy before dinner. He thought he’d seen you like this before, determined, practically unstoppable but boy was he wrong. You were more than insistent and that rang an alarm in Dean’s head. You knew that the one responsible for the trials could die and you were willingly going with it.

“Dean, can you give us a moment” Sam speaks up again and you quirk an eyebrow at him, looking between him and his brother. Sam looks at Dean, his pleading eyes and subtle nod giving enough information for Dean to get the message across. If there is one thing that can make you understand is honesty.

Dean slowly walks out of the room, giving you one last look that said clearly that you needed to listen with an open heart and mind to anything Sam would say. When he closed the door behind him, Sam’s eyes were already on you, trained on your features and you shifted your weight on your feet, his stare intimidating.

“So?” You said, trying to keep your ground. Sam sighed and lowered his head, considering all his options in the situation, he could tell you everything and be either rejected or accepted, he could lie to you, give you the wrong spell and work his way out like he always did and still keep you safe. Honesty. The word echoed in his mind like a chant.

He pushed himself off the table he was leaning on, crossing with you and going towards the bed to sit down. Your whole body accompanied his movements, his long strides making the distance between the table and the bed shorter than it actually was.

Once sat he looked at you and then at the spot beside him on the bed, silently asking you to sit with him and you caved, obliging to him. Your feet were light on the floor, quiet, accustomed to being silent while being a hunter, as you walked to the bed. The hardness of the cushion was not too much of a bother but still kept you grounded. Don’t let your guard down.

After making yourself as comfortable as possible, sitting criss-crossed, you turned towards Sam who was with both his feet on the floor, staring at his hands drying his sweat on his jeans. You waited for him to travel inside his own mind, finding the words, the phrases, the honesty. 

Honesty. Honesty. Honesty.

You swam in your own thoughts, especially those in which Sam was included. And those were the few thousands of reasons you wanted to be the one doing the trials, not him, not Dean. In your time alone, Sam had opened up to you about his want to live a normal life, away from apocalypses, monsters, gods…White picket fence, the whole nine. Dean had wanted that too, hell maybe he wouldn’t let go completely of the hunting but at least he wouldn’t have to deal with demons on his ass, never ever again. You didn’t see yourself getting out.

You grew up in this, much like the boys, but to you was different. You liked it. The adrenaline was like a drug pumping through your veins everytime you killed an abomination and, honestly, family wasn’t your strongest trait. All those whom you considered family were cremated – just because…we don’t usually bury hunters, so you can’t say they are six-feet under. Your love life was most definitely inexistent, you didn’t have time for falling in love with anyone.

Until. You did.

Until you fell. And hard. Face first in a bag of nails because you knew it would be trouble falling in love with Sam Winchester. You were both unlucky when it came to that feeling, always losing, always sacrificing, always in a battle. But how could you not? He was a gentleman in full, kind, sweet, caring and at the same time deadly – no pun intended. He would protect those he cared for with his life, his sense of protection his greatest quality. He was so selfless sometimes it made you mad. You had told him once ‘Be selfish, just this one time!’ and even so he couldn’t. It wasn’t his nature.

Sam wanted out of this and you wouldn’t let him abandon that dream because of you. You weren’t worth his life, you told him once after following a lead on how to open the doors to Purgatory and pull Cas and Dean out that almost got both of you killed. You were crying as you drove him to the hospital, the blood on your hands staining the steering wheel.

He was pale, his hand weekly pressing over the wound on his stomach, his breathing shallow. When you told him that, he trained his tired eyes on your face and in a rough and tired voice told you to shut up. Shut it, jerk. And fainted.

At the hospital you stayed hours by his bed every day. The doctors had told you he would be okay, that thankfully no vital organs were damaged and when he woke up you hugged him tightly, your arms wrapping around his neck desperately trying to make sure he wasn’t going anywhere. His hands soothed you, rubbing your back up and down. You won’t get rid of me that easily, he had said and you laughed.

Ever since then you swore to yourself that you would guarantee that Sam wouldn’t put himself in danger for you anymore and you were not breaking that promise.

“Do you remember the night we met?” Sam spoke and you turned your eyes to his face, his hair shining against the yellow light and worry lines between his eyebrows.

“John had left you at Bobby’s and when I came back from school you scared the shit out of me. I had my gun in hand and everything until Bobby popped up, desperately trying to explain” You said, smiling at the memory. You were all so young back then, Sam was still shorter than you – which didn’t last long – and you had lost your parents a few months back.

“Ever since that night I knew you would be…something in the long run” You gave him a puzzled look and he laughed lightly at your face, his dimples appearing on his cheeks. “I knew you would turn out to be strong, brave and I knew you would end up being one of the most important people to me”

You smiled stupidly at that, your face heating up. You didn’t know what to say to him, your eyes drifting to your fingers over your lap because you couldn't keep his strong gaze. Sam sighed and considered his options, he could either hide his feelings for longer or be honest. Honesty, honesty. The word echoed through his mind like a mantra.

Sam reached his hand to wrap over one of yours, making your eyes shift from your hands to his face again. Physical touch wasn't uncommon between the both of you. Sleeping in the same bed when motels were full, sleeping on each other's shoulders, – more you than Sam given the height difference – hugs, cheek kisses, cuddling while watching movies. But something about this hand hold felt more intimate, like a wave of emotions were being poured over you like cold water. Sam squeezed your hand.

“I can't lose you” Sam said, his voice low because he knew that if he spoke any louder he could break.

“Sam–”

“Y/N. Please.” He begs, even if he doesn't know what he's begging for. Please, let me talk. Please, don't do the trials. Please, love me like I love you. “I can't lose you”

He repeats and you feel like you just got punched in the guts or like a knife went through your chest. He sounded so raw. Those four words meaning more than any poetry you've ever laid eyes upon. You squeeze his hand to ground yourself.

“Can't or won't?” You ask, voice weak.

“Both” He answers. “Both because I won't let you do this and can't because if I lose you I won't know how to keep going.”

You shake your head no, closing your eyes for a brief moment, your memories together flooding in again. His smile tattooed in your brain, his laugh playing over and over like a broken vinyl. You needed to do this.

“If I do this then that means you can finally have a life, a wife, kids…I can't let you lose this.” You say, tears welling up in your eyes. “And I need to do this for you, for Dean, for Charlie…Losing me is just a consequence for the greater good”

Now it's Sam who shakes his head, low breathy no's coming out of his mouth. He looks up at you, eyes watery and those stupid puppy dog eyes staring right into your soul, crushing your heart to pieces.

“You don't get it” He says “When I look into the future I can't imagine–” He takes a breath, considering whether to tell you or not. Fuck it. “I can't imagine it without you. The house, the kids running around, the dog…they're ours.” He stops for a moment, waiting to see if you caught what he meant but you just looked at him, wide beautiful eyes full of confusion.

“Sam what are you–”

“And you're the wife. My wife.” He says and he can see the realization come into your face, slowly. The way your jaw drops slightly, your shoulders tense and your hand squeezes his even harder. Sam swallows but now he can't back away. “So I can't let you do this because if you do it and die I won't be able to keep going because I love you, Y/N. I love you and even if you don't reciprocate I won't stop loving you. You're the first thing I think when I wake up and the last thing I think about once I fall asleep.” He keeps going, almost out of breath once he finishes, avoiding your eyes, avoiding rejection. “So, please, don't”

Don't do this, don't reject me, don't run.

“Sam, look at me” You say, one hand slowly grasping his cheek, your thumb drying a tear that he didn't know had fallen. Once he looked at you he saw you smiling. Smiling with teary eyes. “I love you, too”

You practically whispered and a feeling rushed into Sam's body. Like someone had shot him up with adrenaline and suddenly he was aware of everything around him, your warm hand on his cheek, your hand under his, the white noise of the animals outside. And his own heartbeat.

He closed the distance between the both of you, his lips finally touching yours in desperation. Pure and raw desperation. His hand went up your arm to your neck, gently pulling you more into him and yours slipped to tangle into his hair, running the soft locks through your fingers.

The kiss felt electric and it burned. Burned you from the inside out with the wave of a thousand emotions. Your head went back to those moments with Sam. Your mind was just completely him.

And it was the same for the Winchester.

He already had thoughts consisting mostly of you but now he felt in heaven, like in finally connected with whom he mostly desired, both physically and emotionally. His other hand slipped around your waist to pull yourself over him as he laid down on the bed.

You followed and slightly smiled into the kiss. Until you grounded yourself. Sam wouldn't let you do the trials, not now that you had confessed, not now that he knew you loved him too. So you had to take matters into your own hands.

As Sam laid you over him, you straddled his hips, the kiss continuing into an unexplained hunger and lust for each other. You sensually dragged your hand down his chest, earning a soft gasp out of him, both his hands tangling in your hair, messing up your curls.

Your hand that slid down his body discreetly went into his pocket, feeling for the paper with the spell written on it. You mentally apologized over and over to Sam, your mouth opening to let his tongue in to explore it, butterflies flying around in your stomach. He was gentle, caring but yet hungry and you could feel it.

I'm sorry. 

You pulled away breathless, the paper clutched in your hand and Sam looked at you through hooded eyes, his chest heaving with his heavy breaths and a confused frown on his face.

“I'm sorry Sammy” You said as you got off the bed and started to quickly pronounce the words in enochian, your hands trembling around the paper. Sam widened his eyes once he realized what you'd done, patting his pocket in reflex, knowing you had taken it out of there, and stubbled off the bed.

“Y/N, no, please!” He yelled but it was too late. Once you said the last word an almost unbearable pain cursed through your whole body, knocking you to your knees, a loud groan of pain leaving your throat.

Sam kneeled beside you with a hand on your back, mumbling curses and apologies to you but you couldn't hear him, the pain so strong it made your ears ring. You felt a burn, like you had injected lava into your veins, opening your eyes to see your arms shining. Everything was spinning and the only thing guaranteeing you that you were still alive was Sam's warm touch over your back.

After seconds of excruciating pain you felt it going down and saw your arms returning to their normal tone. You collapsed into Sam's arms and he made sure to hold you tightly, still mumbling apologies with his eyes glossy with tears.

“Why did you do this?” He repeated, over and over. He didn't know if he wanted to kill you or hug you so he decided for the latter. He hugged your frame, pressing your head against his chest with a trembling hand and giving light kisses over it.

His other hand pressed your back against him, making your whole body stay in contact with his. His knees hurt on the hard ground but nothing compared to the pain he felt in his heart. He felt helpless.

You opened your eyes to look up at him, a faint smile on your face. You lifted a hand up to his cheek and took a very good look at the handsome man you loved. He was crying but he always looked beautiful, no matter how.

At your touch he closed his eyes, guilt spreading through his body. He touched his forehead to yours, making you close your eyes until you spoke up.

“I did this because I love you” You said and he opened his mouth to protest. You gave him a look, saying you weren’t done. “I love you too much to see you die and I know you can keep going if I die, you are one of the strongest men I know. You’re smart, you’re brave and you went through so much that I can’t let you give it up because of me. And you know I would never, ever, let you take responsibility over this and I don’t want you to blame yourself, this was my choice”

“I can’t– I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m so sorry I got you into this, I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you–” You stopped him with a kiss and he sighed sadly, his hands wrapping around you tighter as if you would disappear at any second. You felt horrible but at the same time relieved. Relieved that if anything happened, Sam would live.

“Don’t say that” You whisper against his lips. “Don’t apologize for something that isn’t your fault. This is on me.” You say as you pull slowly away to look into his eyes, the mix of colors hypnotizing you. You felt like you could see every ounce of his soul through those eyes and it was filled with sadness.

Sam was angry, not at you, at himself. The moment he saw the hellhound die above you, bathing you in its blood he knew it was over, that you wouldn’t back away but still he blamed himself. If I were quicker. If I were smarter. The words ran around in his brain. When he looked at you he saw yet another one of those he loved dead. Another corpse that hung over his shoulder.

“We can do this, I can do this. I’m strong enough” You said. Sam knew you were strong but this was beyond you. This was God and Demons and Heaven and Hell. This was biblical and nothing like the things you faced before. He was scared.

“I know you are but what if I’m not?” He asks and you wait for him to continue. “What if I’m not strong enough to let you go if it comes to it?”

“You’ll have to be. If not for yourself, for me. Keep going for me” You reply with a soft look and a slight smile that made Sam choke on a sob and smash his lips against yours.

This kiss was filled with different emotions. Sadness, grief and guilt were poured into it but yet so much love. So, so much.

You didn’t get a verbal answer from Sam but you got plenty of information from the kiss. I’ll try, for you.

And that was enough.

A/N: Notes and reblogs encourage me to keep writing, feedback makes those writings better. Thank you for reading, Xoxo.