#pro John Winchester

[ilovejohnwinchester]

Fascinated by this exchange in Long Distance Call between Dean and a crocatta (sp?) who he believes to be John’s ghost:

The crocatta claims it mimics loved ones by absorbing all the calls, voicemails, etc they’ve ever made.

And it works. Dean, who figured out Azazel was possessing John in five seconds, who knows his dad better than anyone, does not find anything about this exchange to be suspicious.

All of which suggests that John told Dean he loved him pretty often, or at least often enough for the crocatta to mimic it and for Dean to buy it. Neat little bit of insight into their relationship pre-series.

[dean-coded-john-girl]

Ngl I really just don't care for any criticisms of John that refuse to acknowledge that John is not in our world, and he shouldn't be judged like a parent from our world would be. John lives in a universe where basically everyone's worst nightmares are just OUT THERE, and some of them are specifically after HIS KID.

Like yeah he gave a 5th grader a hand gun but like. That 5th grader is being sought after by literal demons AND his mom was successfully killed by the exact same group/type of entity while under John's roof. Why the fuck would he do anything OTHER than arm the kid, given his level of knowledge about demons at the time??

[fratricideknight]

hello sweetie!! i wanted to ask you if you could give us your take on john winchester ? people have very different opinions on him and i’d love to hear yours.

hi!!! thanks so much for this ask. it took me a while to gather my thoughts, so there's a relatively long post ahead.

i think that people in fandom tend to go the route of woobifying a character until they can do no wrong in their eyes, or demonising a character until everything they do is wrong. this not only doesn't allow for nuanced takes, which should be possible to make for any well-written, complex character, but also leads to attempts to push blame onto characters instead of just... accepting that the circumstances themselves are shit.

maybe john and sam are similar after all, considering the way that neither of them are extended any due sympathy whatsoever by certain individuals. john, who knew nothing of the supernatural, on an otherwise normal night during which he fell peacefully asleep in front of the television, witnessed his wife be psychically pinned to the ceiling of his baby's nursery and explode in front of both him and his six-month-old. that's bound to change anyone. blaming john entirely for becoming incredibly paranoid over and controlling of his children, and not acknowledging the role of, i don't know, azazel? prince of hell? who engineered all of this?? is so ridiculous i can't even comprehend it. the circumstances are absolutely dreadful, and john wasn't left with much of a choice in the ways he could respond to it. not only would he most likely be driven partially insane by what he witnessed happen to his wife, he would also be led to worry about the safety of his children. killing azazel wasn't just about avenging mary, it was about extinguishing the threat that, for all john knew, could be out to kill his infant sons! what do you want him to do?? shrug it off and go on like nothing happened? cut his losses and get another mother for the boys?

as for how john specifically responded to this: he became a controlling douchebag, yeah. i have someone in my life who can be the same brand of peremptory dick as john, and there are times when i want nothing more than to punch john winchester in the face. it's one of the reasons i relate to sam so much. however, not once in my viewing of season 1 before i entered fandom spaces, did it occur to me that john might be an irredeemable monster and abuser. john trained his boys like soldiers rather than treating them like the children they were, but it's not like he did it for the hell of it. he thought they would literally die if they weren't prepared to fight off the supernatural threats which he was suddenly, in the worst possible way, made aware of. john was an ex-marine, which would of course influence how he would go about this. i'm not saying that john didn't do horrible things at times and that sam and dean's upbringing wasn't awful. he did, and it was. telling sam to not come back if he went to college, trying to punish him for having dreams of his own? making tween dean feel bad for not staying in a motel room 24/7 to take care of his younger brother? dick moves. the boys' childhood was claustrophobic, toxic, and miserable, and i do not blame either of them in the slightest for wanting to get out. however, it comes down to the matter of circumstance again: it's not like john did any of this for the hell of it! let me repeat myself: he thought. they were going. to be murdered. moving frequently probably wasn't just for the sake of cases, it might also have been because he was scared that they were being pursued by something.

as for some of the abuse claims that people make. ugh. please stop just making stuff up. if you want to take the idea that john was a monster and run with it, whatever. i don't care. but acting like that's actually canon? you're just shouldering your way into spaces where people who actually want to discuss canon can do so, and that's incredibly annoying. there is no canon evidence in the seasons which actually involved john as a character that he beat his children or was homophobic. they literally go out of their way in the episode 'Nightmare' to show that sam and dean know their childhood wasn't like max miller's. as some people have said, he doesn't need to have hit his kids for their childhood to have sucked; it was bad enough already! as for the homophobia claims. ughhhhhhhh. i feel like they come from a... specific sector of the fandom, who want to take any reprehensible trait of dean's and make it someone else's fault. like i said earlier, woobifying a character until they can do no wrong. "oh, dean can be a misogynistic and homophobic douchebag at times? clearly, this is all john's influence. oh, he treats sam badly at times? actually, sam is the one who abuses him!" i can somewhat get behind the idea of john expecting the boys to repress their emotions on some level; he was literally a marine in the vietnam war, and he raised his kids in the eighties and nineties. he expected them to put aside any issues they might have had about giving up an ordinary life and hunting azazel and just follow his orders. but the idea that he's some queerphobic monster who would beat dean upside the head for shedding a single tear is hilarious.

look at this fucking fruit. he never stops tearing up.

as a final point, let me just address that jdm is incredibly sexy. if you have a problem with me liking john, take it up with whichever higher power or force of nature made him so <3

[broken-emotionalmess]

John Winchester lore unlocked in 10x10 and I’m in love imagine Sam buys John an i ❤️ nyc shirt and he just had to put it on Sam bought it for him!

[octaviaabadassblakee]

John Winchester fans (or anyone who can answer) I have a question! Does canon ever explain when exactly John found out about Sam, Azazel and the demon blood? Do we know around the time he realized Azazel fed Sam demon blood and wanted him as a solider in his army. (Or whatever they believed at the time) Thank you!

[spoopy-action-at-distance]

Hi other John Winchester fans that are still around! I have a request to make of you.

I am currently having A Trying Time and I believe that more John content would improve the quality of my life. I'm rewatching SPN and at the end of season 1, and it has suddenly dawned on me that I cannot watch the start of season 2 right now. I've imprinted on this fictional dad like a desperate baby duckling, and that means that I am not allowed to witness really bad things happening to him as long as I feel this wonky.

My brain also craves fluff about him. I want to turn to fic for it, but as I imagine you know, finding John fic where he is both a) a decent person, and b) a main character, is a downright chore. It gets even harder when we're also talking fluff fic. So I'm asking you all--

Does anyone know good John fics that more or less match the following criteria:

John POV, John-centric or heavily featuring John

Happy or hopeful end, or contains more comfort than hurt

Significant sweet and/or fluffy moments, the more the better

Endearing, sympathetic or relatable John; vulnerable John is excellent, complicated John is welcome, but absolutely no John hate (and preferably no excessive bashing of any other character either)

John is not an abuser or extremely neglecting or anything like that

Bonus: the fic is long, and/or set in some sort of an AU where they're not all constantly in mortal danger.

Gen and shippy are both fine. Any ship whatsoever is welcome. John x Reader is welcome. RPF mayyybe, it's not my usual fare but I'm willing to check it out. SPN era John is best, but TW era John is good too. Whatever the fic is like, it cannot possibly be too fluffy.

Basically all I want is fic about John Winchester that makes me go "awwwww <3". Any suggestions that anyone has would be much appreciated and valued.

Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?

[flowersintheimpala69]

I loveee abusive john but john beats dean for being gay is probably the most boring basic (and dare i saw ooc) way we could go about it

[boykingscourt]

been thinking about john and sam a lot lately

like sam is john's baby, his greatest headache, his too-smart-for-your-own-damn-good son, the son he'd sooner disown than admit he's terrified of losing

the son he's killed for

the son you either have to save or kill

the son who shouts and disobeys and runs away because john can't tell him the truth

the son john knows he doesn't deserve

the son who's probably doomed

the son who never got to say goodbye

[mlobsters]

For now, you've gotta trust me, son. You've got to let me go.

digital painting, process video under the cut

drawing sam and dean, ~20 hours.

song: heart to know by i break horses

[demonic-ninja-cat]

New Anti-Hunter SPN Discord Server!

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

Are you someone who likes SPN but hates Hunters/the concept of Hunting?

Do you think that their mass-murdering of Monsters is wrong? Do you hate how the show and the fandom always push them as "good/heroic"? Do you think that Jacob Pond should have been allowed to get revenge on Dean for killing his mother? Do you want to do an SPN rp where the Hunters aren't glorified for once?

If your answer to any of these is "yes", then you've come to the right place! SPN: The Real Monsters (18+) is, to my knowledge, the only Anti-Hunter SPN rp server on Discord!

We offer the ability to rp SPN without dealing with Hunters/Hunting being glorified, and without Supernaturals/Monsters being demonized and treated like shit! We also offer OOC channels to talk with like-minded people about SPN and other topics, share pictures and memes, and more!

If all of this sounds good to you, then come join us now, and fight back against the Hunters today!

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

[billiewena]

FOUR YEARS SINCE NOV 5TH, 2020, as summed up by Supernatural

past recaps: year one / year two / year three / year four

full context and sources below:

various explanations + resources/sources/extra reading on this year's recap:

balls deep: misha collins says the quiet part out loud at Cross Roads 8 Supernatural Convention, saying "if the CW wasn't so homophobic dean and cas would've been balls deep for sure" at a con (x) (x) (x)

garthbenny canon: supernatural actors DJ Qualls (who played hunter-turned-werewolf Garth Fitzgerald) and Ty Olsson (who played the vampire Benny Lafitte) reveal they're married, delighting crack shippers like myself everywhere (x)

spn spooky picture book: official supernatural children's picture book is released, retconning things like john winchester as a happy father figure and castiel being their cowardly childhood friend who sorta hangs around (x) (x)

boop button: tumblr introduces a feature people enjoy for once for april fool's day and halloween and allows users to boop each other, spn bloggers re-awake like sleeper agents to use it in full force (x) (x)

bedlund speaks on destiel: former spn writer ben edlund goes on a tweet fest replying to fans, talking about destiel multiple times including this profound tweet (x)

clear text, not subtext: jensen speaks out again on the confession at Purcon 8, this time taking a more open stance on how the relationship was textual, his take on dean's feelings about cas's feelings, and how the scene with cas deserved a resolution (x)

bury your gays: famed author chuck tingle (known for his plethora of highly specific and delightfully inclusive, if strange, indie erotica novels) publishes his second mainstream horror novel, inspired by TV network studios' infamous history of censoring LGBT relationships and openly killing off queer characters. In a non-subtle nod to supernatural fans, the main character is named misha. (sidenote: did end up reading this and this book is actually really good commentary on the industry in general and really good, 10/10 recommend) (x) also someone got the book signed by misha, to further break the fourth wall (x)

tracker: jensen ackles begins starring in a CBS show where he is basically csoplaying dean winchester, with the show featuring many non-subtle spn references (i.e. him pretending to almost get in an impala before going to his truck, characters wearing spn necklaces, etc.) (x) (x) (x) (special shout-out to clarice @youre-only-gay-once for expertly tracking the tracker show and these easter eggs, highly recommend their tag for their show)

cw's walker cancelled: fans rejoiced upon hearing the cancellation news for jared's post-supernatural show, walker, a remake of "walker texas ranger." in addition to generally being a copaganda show for the notoriously racist texas rangers, jared's inspiration for the show's direction caused much concern. the actor himself said the show was inspired by the US border crisis, not by the immigrant families affected by the separation and internment, but instead wanting exploring the POV of the law enforcement agents working at the border and the moral dilemmas they had to face (x)

pro-destiel Wonder Woman: Lynda Carter (aka the iconic and beloved original actress for Wonder Woman, not the z*onist one) says she could "go for some Destiel" when promoting #GeeksandNerdsforHarrisWalz and Misha's involvement (x) the rest of the spn cast and original Showrunner Kripke were also a big part of this event

chili's backfire: the chain restaurant chili's drags destiel while interacting with 9-1-1 bucktommy shippers on twitter, immediately gets backfire. notably, their stock takes a dip the next day. coincidence? maybe so, maybe not (x) (x)

samgirl voting fraud: "who is the gayest spn character" tumblr poll surprisingly gets heated, with a blogger straight-up admitting they used a bot on the "castiel vs. sam" poll to rig the poll in sam's favor, which they apparently also did for w*ncest in another poll in the past, and posting a guide on how anyone could do the same. luckily democracy wins in this one instance and castiel prevails anyways, leading to an also contested "castiel vs. charlie bradbury" round (x) (x)

pink pony jarpad: jared is spotted at lesbian pop star chappell roan's set at a festival, un-likely place for him to be (x) also may have been one of the "boring" people called out by chappell? (x)

pro-kamala castiel: in a last-ditch effort to get out the vote, misha uses the power of castiel photo ops to campaign for harris-walz and even shouts-out destiel. I feel depressed writing this sentence, if you've made it this long in your read and you're in the states I hope you're doing alright! maybe by the time I wake up things will be a little different though. (x)

[ilovejohnwinchester]

Can anyone rec me fics with with well-written John Winchester? Bonus points if it’s in any way John-centric. Self-recs are welcome! Thanks in advance :-)

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 19

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

🔥 Series Masterlist

AN: Deep breaths, my friends. We’re almost to the end. ❤️

Word Count: 5,800 Tags/Warnings: Violence, peril, blood and guns, character death…

Part 19: “Sacrifice”

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted…but you didn’t answer.

“You there?” he asked. There was a pit forming in his stomach when he glanced up at John. His father met his gaze with furrowed brows that betrayed concern.

The line was silent for one more painful moment. Dean opened his mouth to call out to you again, but a smooth voice interrupted.

“Dean, Dean, Dean,” a man replied. “Forgetting something?”

Dean’s heart began to pound. His mouth parted, but for a moment, the words wouldn’t escape.

“Who is this?” he said. His voice was a hint unsteady.

“I think you know, son,” the man replied.

Dean’s wide eyes flicked up to John’s, and the other man sprang into action. He shot a look and a whispered order at Cas, who went running for some IP tracking equipment back in the police car.

Meanwhile, John guided Dean to sit down on the couch. Sam followed them on his brother’s right, while John sat on Dean’s left.

Dean put the phone on speaker between the three of them.

“You’re Daniel Savage, huh?” Dean said. He tried to inject some more control into his tone, like he wasn’t freaking the fuck out. “Man, do I feel special.”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Dean-o. I’m doing the same thing your dad’s doing. Hooking the bigger fish.”

Dean’s lips pursed. He glanced at his father, but his attention on the phone turned steely.

“What the hell do you want?” he asked. “Your lackey’s on lockdown. So’s your bastard son. If you want to help him, I’d suggest you turn your ass over to the cops.”

“Yes, Nick’s an idiot. But family, right?” said Daniel. He breathed out a sigh.

But then his voice was firm and calculating. It made Dean’s skin crawl.

“Cards on the table, son. Your daddy’s got something of mine. I’ve got something of yours.”

Dean’s face hardened, but John raised a placating hand; a warning to keep calm. Dean tried to take a breath.

His heart clenched at the mere thought of you being in the same room with that man. Having been taken and hauled to God knows where. He couldn’t imagine how scared you were. And if you were hurt…

Fuck. There was a roiling pit forming in his stomach, his head starting to pound in time with his heartbeat.

Already Cas was back with a laptop and program designed to track the caller’s phone. He connected a USB-like cord to Dean's phone and began fiddling with the settings, trying to get a read. Dean knew he had to keep this fucker talking.

“You have her with you?” he asked.

“Sure do. She’s a pretty little thing.”

Dean’s jaw clenched in a furious glare. “Don’t you fucking touch her, you son of a bitch.”

“Quid pro quo, Dean. What can you do for me?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, as desperation began to escape him. “There’s no way they’re letting Nick go before the trial. It’s out of my dad’s hands.”

“Your dad has no real evidence that my son is anything more than a successful businessman,” said Daniel. “If you really need someone to pin these unfortunate murders on, you had your man in custody…but, oh wait. You gave him immunity.”

Dean’s eyes were desperate when they met Sam’s worried ones, then their father’s. It didn’t matter that John and Cas did have evidence besides Alastair’s testimony. All Dean cared about was you.

He swallowed. “What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing. It’s what I want John to do.”

Dean took a moment to close his eyes, pull himself together. His hands squeezed his knees to brace himself. When he next opened his eyes, he let out a sharp breath.

“What do you want then? Aside from Nick somehow breaking loose,” he asked.

“I want your dad to back the fuck off, once and for all,” Daniel said. His voice was more edged, with both warning and a hint of frustration. “Or I’ll make his son live the same pathetic existence he does.”

Dean’s next breath came out harsher, as both John and Sam sharpened at the threat.

“That’s right, Dean. These are my terms of engagement, else I’m gonna have a bonfire with your girl here.” 

It all gripped Dean at once.

Panic, anger, and desperation.

He grabbed the phone and spoke harshly into the speaker.

“Put her on the damn line," he said. "I wanna hear her and know this isn’t a trick.”

Daniel sighed, like he was getting bored. “Oh, all right.”

There was some shuffling, the sound of Daniel’s steps echoing in what sounded like a large room. Dean’s brows furrowed as he heard sounds of your struggle, then your labored breaths, as if a gag had been removed from your mouth.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Go ahead and talk to him,” said Daniel.

Soon enough, your tremulous voice reached him.

“Dean?” you said. You sounded like you were fighting tears; maybe even losing. Dean’s heart broke all the more for it.

“Yeah, it’s me. Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah…yeah, I’m okay,” you said, though your voice shook. He hoped you weren’t lying for his sake.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” He raised a fist to his mouth, ignoring how it shook. “You’re gonna be okay. I’m going to find you—”

All too soon, the phone was taken away from you.

“Rule number one of negotiations, kid. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Dean’s eyes widened. The next thing he heard was a hard slap. It echoed into the speaker, along with your shout of both surprise and pain, a chair toppling over.

“You fucking bastard!” Dean seethed. “When I find you—”

John interrupted this time, taking the cell phone from Dean. He shot his son a look that was meant to be reassuring, but Dean was too incensed. Sam gripped his shoulder and earned his brother’s gaze. Dean’s chest heaved with the effort of calming his breathing.

“What do you want?” John said into the phone. His voice was clipped and direct.

While he continued to speak, Cas was frowning in frustration over his laptop.

“Anything?” Sam asked.

“I can’t get a lock on his signal. He must have something throwing off the scanner,” Cas replied.

Dean growled in frustration and pushed off the couch. He began to pace the living room, all while he tried to keep an ear on what John was saying lowly into the phone.

By the time he hung up, Dean was raging.

“Fuck this, I’m gonna find her,” he said. John tried to stop him from going anywhere with a hand on his shoulder. Dean knocked him off angrily. Sam also stood, for once on the same page as his father, no matter how much he sympathized.

“Dean, you need to calm down,” John tried.

It was the wrong thing to say.

“I didn’t ask for this!” Dean shouted. The force of it echoed on the apartment walls. “Matter of fact, I’ve never asked you for a damn thing until now. Only that you’d keep me in the loop on Azazel, and keep her out of this. But you couldn’t even do that, could you?”

Sam was at a loss, looking between his father and brother. Cas was also caught in between, watching the scene with concern, and bated breath.

John��s broad shoulders sunk a bit, along with the deep breath he expelled.

“You’re right,” John said. "You're right, son. And I'm sorry."

His eyes held the weight of his words. Of sincerity. And by degrees, Dean’s anger lessened.

Again, not by much.

“Let’s fix it,” said John. “Once and for all.”

Dean wasn’t fully recovered from his TBI. He’d been cleared for driving, but not yet for full physical exercise, let alone going back to work. The stress of all this was giving him a powerful headache, but there was no way he was going to be sidelined now, on any part of it.

Sam was forced to withdraw the case against Nick Savage, citing lack of evidence to support a trial at this time. The judge gave Sam permission to refile when he was able to build a better case.

John was then tasked with escorting Nick out of prison. Cas, meanwhile, was sitting in his personal car outside the county jail with Dean in the passenger seat. Cas didn’t trust what his friend would do behind the wheel once he saw Nick.

“What happens after Nick gets out?” Dean asked. “Dad’s been cagey about the whole deal.”

“We’re escorting him to the airport,” Cas said. “There we’ll wait for Daniel and make the exchange.”

Nick, for you. That was the deal.

“And then?” Dean asked, his teeth already clenching.

Cas blew out a sigh. “We’ll have a unit waiting on standby. We’re going to try and get ahold of whoever has her, though I doubt Daniel will come himself.”

“What if you can’t catch him?” Dean pressed.

Cas didn’t want to have to tell his friend something he didn’t want to hear, but he didn’t make a habit of lying to Dean. He wasn’t about to start now.

“Then it’s over, for now,” he replied. “We each go back to our corners and regroup.”

“Dad’ll never stop hunting this guy,” Dean said.

“That may be,” Cas nodded. “But he does have a line.”  

“My father’s an obsessed bastard,” Dean groused. “He doesn’t have a damn line.”

Cas looked over at him then. He was calm and sympathetic, and yet, still disagreeing in his silence. Dean knew he was probably wrong, but in the moment, he didn’t care. He was still angry.

He perked up, however, when the prison doors slid open. Out came John escorting Nick and his lawyer, Amelia. Nick looked as smug as ever now that his cuffs were off. He was given the clothes he was arrested in—a blue silk shirt, pants, Italian leather shoes, and a silver Rolex watch.

Screw this, Dean thought. He unlocked the car from his side and climbed out. He didn’t care that he could hear Cas mutter a curse behind him and follow suit.

Nick saw Dean coming and couldn’t help but smirk, even as John grasped his arm and led him to his police car.

“Hey, fireman,” Nick taunted with his waggling brows. “Where’s our girl?”

Dean’s lips edged at a dangerous smile. Cas came up just behind him, ready to restrain him if need be.

“You can finesse your way out of this, but remember our little chat,” Dean said. His eyes burned with a thinly veiled threat. “Not a dime in this world can protect you from me.”

Nick pretended to shiver.

“Ooh, I’m so fucking scared,” he snarked. He resisted John’s manhandling and ripped his arm out of the other man’s grasp to step further into the open, leaving just a few yards between him and Dean.

“You can’t touch me,” Nick taunted. “You won’t dare. Not unless you want—”

Three shots rang out in the open clearing.

All heads ducked, but Dean’s eyes widened. He watched Nick crumple to the ground as scarlet red plumed in the man’s silk shirt. The shock etched on his face drained along with his life, leaving blue eyes staring up at a clear sky.

Forensics at the scene found traces of a sniper on the rooftop of a building directly across from the county jail.

John and Cas already were mounting an entire unit search in locating Alastair Rolston, but he had apparently moved out of his apartment as soon as he was released from prison with his immunity deal. (The police officers escorting him into witness protection had been found dead at the scene of his designated safe house.)

The detectives were later called into the medical examiner’s office on the case of Nick Savage—not to examine the body, but the bullets that had carved into his heart, right lung, and throat.

One of the bullets had a special casing. Inside was a rolled-up note, not unlike a carrier pigeon. It had a simple message:

JOHN — STULL STORAGE. COME ALONE.

Once again, Dean refused to sit idly. He’d pushed back hard enough that John had eventually relented. This time, however, Sam stepped in to make sure his brother was reigned in. Dean’s knee was already bouncing with anticipation and nervousness.

It was nearly midnight on a Tuesday. The brothers sat in the surveillance van with Jody Mills, all wearing protective Kevlar vests as precaution. The van was removed from the immediate site of Stull Storage, which was made up of a main warehouse and several rows of storage units on the other side. 

Cas was leading another police unit on standby, but John was going into the warehouse. He wore his usual leather jacket over his rumpled shirt, pants, and boots, but also a protective vest and hidden wire under his collar.

Sam, Dean, and Jody were able to listen in as John entered alone.

He had a flashlight positioned over his raised gun as he walked into the building. He found some light switches along the wall and was able to turn on half the room’s fluorescent ceiling lights.

He heard a whimper.

Moving towards the sound cautiously, John soon found you tied to a chair. You looked a bit worse for wear; though you were dressed for an interview in black slacks and a blouse, your hair was in disarray, your cheek still sported a fading red mark, and you likely had other bumps and bruises.

Your eyes widened with hope when you saw John. You made sounds of surprise around the gag tied in your mouth, but he shushed you with a finger held to his lips.

He went over to you after lowering his gun, cocking back the safety, and re-holstering. He went to untie the gag first. You breathed deeply when it was gone.

“You okay?” he asked, touching your arm in comfort.

“Yeah,” you nodded, but your widening eyes still darted behind him.

Another safety clicked back. John immediately drew his gun again and turned. He was met with the man of the hour.

Standing mere feet away with his own gun was Daniel Savage. AKA: Azazel.

“Ooh, you’re getting old, John,” he said with a smirk. “Wasn’t expecting to get the drop on you so easily.”

John subtly moved so he was standing in front of you. He hadn't had time to untie you from the chair. Your breathing came out shallow as you tried to spy around John to your captor.

“Daniel,” John greeted. “It’s about time, wouldn’t you say?”

“You cheated though,” said Daniel, despite his cocky smirk. Like father like son. “I know you’ve got a team waiting in the wings.”

“If you wanna get technical, you cheated first,” John pointed out.

Daniel shrugged. Behind him came around ten of his own hired men, armed with their own guns. “Hate the player, hate the game, my friend.”

John’s lips pursed, but he didn’t lower his gun. He had a straight shot at Daniel���s chest.

“Even if you do get off a shot, you’ll be Swiss cheese where you stand,” Daniel said. 

“Small price to pay for ending your miserable fucking life,” John remarked.

Daniel’s brows rose. “Are you gonna make her pay for it too?”

He gestured behind John, where he glanced back at your face. Your red-rimmed eyes were shining with tears. And John knew that once his gun fired, his body would hit the ground. Yours wouldn’t be far behind.

His brows furrowed, and the hands holding his weapon wavered.

“So how you do think this is gonna play out?” John asked.

“Well, for starters, you’re going to drop that damn gun,” said Daniel. He cocked his own weapon. “Then, you’re going to get down on your knees and take this bullet, like putting down a rabid dog. Then maybe, I’ll let her go before the cops rush in.”

John’s hesitation was mere seconds. He clicked the safety back on. He set down his gun, and lowered to his knees in slow movements.

Your eyes widened further as incredulous tears slipped down your cheeks. You shook your head.

“Don’t!” you said shakily. 

John didn’t look back at you this time, but he did answer you.

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” he said.

Daniel’s grim smile made you shiver.

“What a caring father-in-law,” he said, and he slowly stalked forward. “You know, I prided myself on delegating my operations well. Oh, it was a well-oiled machine back in the day. But some things…well, some things are just better handled yourself. Know what I mean?”

He tilted his head down at John.

“For example: I really regret the way I had your wife killed,” he said. “For all the trouble you’ve given me, I wish I’d actually burned the bitch myself.”

John glared up at the man with pure fury and hatred.

Though his eyes widened when the first shot split the air, and buried a bullet in Daniel’s left arm. Daniel shouted in pain as he unconsciously dropped his gun. John dove for it, and everything started to happen at once.

Daniel kicked at John’s chest while holding his wounded arm, tossing the other man back. John rolled onto his feet, and their full out brawl began. Meanwhile, a unit of police officers swarmed into the warehouse and sparked a shootout with Daniel’s men.

And in all of this, Cas came out from behind your line of vision to untie you. He wore a protective vest over his usual white dress shirt, now rolled up to the elbows.

“Cas!” you gasped. He gave you a smile, then used a pocketknife to cut through the zip ties holding your wrists behind you and your ankles to the chair.

“Come on, let’s go.” He helped you up and guided you out the back of the warehouse.

The last coherent sound Sam and Dean heard was a bullet fired and hitting its target. They couldn’t tell if it was John or Daniel that had been hit, or even you.

Above all things, Dean was a man of action.

He just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fuck this,” he growled. He got to his feet and went for the door of the surveillance van, but while Jody voiced her protest, it was Sam who reached him first.

“Dean, stop! You can’t go out there!” Sam said.

“The hell I can’t,” Dean said. The punch he reared back and threw was precise when it cracked Sam in the cheek. He went down hard. It was all Jody could do to keep him from knocking his head on the metal floor, but Sam was out cold, with his hair flopped over his face.

"Dean!" Jody yelled after him. She stared after the open door of the van with wide, worried eyes.

There were rows upon rows of storage units behind the warehouse. It felt like a maze in itself, one that you and Cas were forced to navigate alone in the crisp January night. Both of you saw your breath on the air as you tried to move quickly, but quietly.

Until a long arm reached out on the other side of a unit, and a hand closed on Cas’s gun, pushing it down and ripping it out of his hands. An elbow cracked into his face, making him grunt and stumble.

Your scream of surprise echoed in the night. You stared up into the familiar face of Alastair, whose mouth formed a sly grin.

“Hey there, beautiful,” he said.

Cas distracted him with a blow that Alastair blocked, but it gave Cas room to break the taller man’s stance and knock his head against the unit wall—once, twice, until the man stumbled and fell. He wasn’t knocked out, but Cas didn’t wait for Alastair to recover. He grabbed you and forced you to run.

“I thought he was in protective custody for the trial,” you said, through huffing breaths.

“Evidently he escaped,” Cas replied.

“God, Cas. You really need to hand out some pink slips,” you said, with a tremor in your voice. The police were supposed to have been watching you as well, before you were kidnapped. Cas conceded your point.

“We really shouldn’t have given him immunity,” he grumbled.

Dean knew he was being some kind of idiot.

Knew it as he carefully approached a side door of the warehouse. His vest wouldn’t protect his whole body if he entered the no man’s land shootout he could hear happening on the other side of the door.

Already he could see policemen escorting some of Azazel’s captured team around the front exit. Dean kept to the shadows, and he cracked the side door open.

There was still plenty going on inside. A few bodies were already strewn across the dusty warehouse floor. Large crates stacked up to the ceiling offered meager protection for both sides of the siege, including Dean as he kept to the wall and slid his way inside and behind a formation of wooden crates. He scanned the room until he found his dad.

John was fighting hand-to-hand with who had to be Daniel Savage. Even though the latter had blood dripping from his arm, John had his share of bruises and scrapes, including a long cut across his cheek from the knife clenched in Daniel’s non-injured right hand.

What the hell do I do? Dean assessed the situation, his eyes darting quickly between the men. He came in here without a weapon (another smart move). He went through most of the training a million years ago, but Dean wasn’t a police officer. He was a firefighter.

However, when he spotted a forgotten Glock on the floor, just a few yards away where the men were still tousling, Dean inched his way closer. He’d have to leave the relative safety of the crates and throw himself out into the open to reach the gun. At this point, Daniel was closer.

And he’d noticed the gun too, at the same time that John glanced up and saw his son. His eyes widened, and just for a moment he lost his grip on Daniel. The other man went for the gun at the same time Dean dove.

John yanked Daniel back by his collar and kneed him in the stomach. But Daniel had the longer reach. He cracked an elbow into John’s face and followed by a swift punch to the gut. John grunted and doubled over at the impact to his already battered ribs and stomach.

Daniel threw him head-first into a pile of nearby crates. He was breathing hard, but his lips twitched in satisfaction at the way John fell into a heap of broken wood. The detective was clearly waning.

Daniel stalked forward. Ignoring his still bleeding shoulder, he grabbed John by the jacket and collar of his shirt and hefted him up to his feet, prepared to deliver another blow. The cocking of a nearby gun made him pause. But in a moment, he twisted John in front him with an arm wrapped around his neck to face his next attacker.

While Daniel had been distracted, Dean had managed to dive and roll across the concrete, scooping up the gun on his way back onto his feet. Now he’d had the time to take aim and wait for his moment, which was right fucking now.

Slowly, Daniel tilted his head to look past John’s shoulder. He was met with Dean’s smirk and a gun pointed directly at his head.

“I think I’ve got something of yours,” Dean remarked. His fingers slid over the trigger.

Daniel tilted his head. A dry smile edged at the corner of his lips. “All right, Dean. Well played. But…”

He tightened his arm around John’s throat and held the knife poised at his neck.

“We’re at what you’d call an impasse, don’t you think?” Daniel asked.

“Dean,” John said. He met his eldest’s gaze as uncertainly crept into Dean’s stance. His hand was still held aloft, but there was an almost imperceptible shake.

“Just shoot him,” said John, with full conviction. “Don’t worry about me.”

Dean’s mouth pressed into a line, his brows furrowing. He wasn’t doing that.

“See, I don’t think he’s got it in ‘im,” Daniel said, speaking lowly in John’s ear. His knife tightened against John’s neck. “You’re out of your fucking depth, Dean.”

Dean flinched as a bullet zoomed past his head from across the room. He was reminded that there was still a fight going on, and the three of them were very much out in the open. John’s face turned more urgent, with thinly veiled worry.

“Dean, either shoot him or get the hell out of here,” he said tersely.

“I’m not leaving,” Dean said, with a small, stubborn shake of his head. But he was nervous. Despite how close he’d come with Nick Savage, Dean had never shot at someone, let alone taken a life. The gun was heavy in his hand.

“Running out of time, son,” Daniel taunted.

“I’m not your fucking son,” Dean gritted out. “Speaking of, did you have Alastair do your dirty work, taking out Nick, or did you pull that trigger yourself?”

Daniel’s smirk faded, his gaze tightening with resignation.

“Sacrifices, Dean,” he said. “We make ‘em to survive. To make sure our legacies survive.”

Dean’s eyes widened as he looked at this man, and he finally understood what his dad had been trying to tell him.

He ain’t a man. He’s a monster.

The gun was heavy in his hand…

“Come on, Dean!” Daniel shouted. “Make a decision—”

Dean still remembered most things he’d learned at the Police Academy. He’d lived, ate, sweat, and breathed those drills and tests for months. And yet, there was only one score he’d truly been proud of. It was the one record of his dad’s that he’d managed to beat.

You could guess which one.

Dean let his fingers squeeze the trigger on some instinct he couldn’t name. Daniel was forced to choke on his words.

Cas pulled you around the corner of a storage unit that blocked the light of the moon. It was just in time for a bullet to rip past where his head used to be.

You leaned heavily against the wall and heaved for breath, but Cas held a finger to his lips while he tried to calm his own breathing.

You held a hand over your mouth to try and stifle the sounds from getting out. Your eyes were wide and panicked, but Cas could only reassure you with a brief hand on your shoulder. He nodded and signaled with his free hand. Wait.

You gave a jerky nod in return. So he reached for his belt and brandished the only weapon he had left—the knife he’d used to cut through your bonds. The air was quiet, except for the distant shouts of police officers; it sounded like Azazel’s men were finally being rounded up.

Cas had called for backup earlier, but he didn’t think they could wait for it. Nor would he know if they were coming. He’d long since turned off the radio on his belt so that it couldn’t tip off his position with you.

He chanced looking around the wall of the storage unit. The coast looked clear, though he knew it wasn’t. Still, the best Cas could hope for was to cover you on the way back to the police barricade. He leaned back and reached for you. He guided you, both with his eyes and a hand on your back.

On the count of three, run, he mouthed. You wordlessly agreed. He saw the fear shining in your eyes.

One…two…

An arm shot out to grab Castiel’s collar the moment he stepped out from his cover, making you scream. The first punch came swift; Alastair was taller, perhaps stronger, but Cas recovered quickly.

He ducked the other man’s arm and delivered an uppercut that had his adversary careening back. With a well-placed jab to the wrist, Alastair’s gun clattered away across the ground.

Cas managed to shoot you a quick look. “Run. Now!”

You paused for a mere moment while Cas continued to grapple with Alastair. Then, in your frozen fear, you finally managed flight. And you took off running, even though Alastair tried to grab at your hair. Cas held him back and continued the fight.

You’d only managed a few yards of distance though, before you couldn’t help but look back. Something in you just couldn’t leave Cas behind.

You took cover behind another storage unit and watched Alastair slowly get the upper hand. He managed to pin Cas against the ribbed metal wall of a unit. He winced as it dug into his spine, but he had bigger problems.

He spat blood after the third blow to his jaw and tried to blink dark spots of his vision. Alastair looked down on him with the lean look of a predator. His smile betrayed the enjoyment he took in his work.

“Contrary to what you might think, I’ve never killed a cop before,” he said. “Just a cop’s wife.”

Cas’s eyes widened a fraction. Alastair’s smile deepened. He raised a bloody fist to finish his work, but he winced and weakened with a shout as a knife embedded deep in his thigh.

It was Cas’s knife that you’d found on the ground.

Alastair’s angry eyes looked down and met your scared ones. You let go of the knife and scrambled back. He backhanded you roughly. You cried out and fell hard on the pavement.

Alastair reached for the knife, but Cas grabbed it first. He twisted as he yanked it out, then jabbed it into the taller man’s neck. It choked his scream as he stumbled back. And yet, even that didn’t manage to kill him.

Cas dove for the fallen gun. It was mere feet away from where he’d forced it out of Alastair’s grip. Cas felt a hand grab his shoulder. He reacted fast—he turned and shot two rounds of hot led into Alastair’s gut.

His gray eyes went wide. Blood gurgled in his mouth.

And slowly, Alastair slid to the ground.

Cas was bloody, his shirt stained and torn, but he was still standing with ragged breath. You had managed to sit up, though your shocked eyes were trained on the body you’d just seen fall into a heap. The horrific spell of it broke when Cas gently touched your shoulder.

You gasped and raised your head.

“It’s okay,” he said, reaching a hand to you. “It’s over.”

Cas escorted you back to the police barricade. There you found Sam, and the mere sight of him relieved you so much you didn’t realize you were crying when you stepped into his embrace. He hugged you tight and asked if you were all right.

You couldn’t give him an honest answer, but at least you were alive.

“I’m okay,” you said tremulously, but you pulled back at grasped his arms. “Where’s Dean?”

Sam looked anxious as his gaze flit between you and Cas.

“That goddamn idiot, he went in there! They won’t let me through—”

“What?” Cas said incredulously. “Into the warehouse?”

Your tears fell anew as a new frantic worry took hold, churning in your stomach and making you feel sick. You turned, and both Cas and Sam had to stop you from heading towards the warehouse.

“Get him out of there!” you cried. “Dean!”

You tried to push past Cas and his attempts to calm you, but you stopped the moment you saw him…

Dean was helping John limp out of the warehouse. Jody was on John’s other side, supporting him as well. John looked beat to hell, and exhausted, but there was no mistaking the calm look on his face. Like he’d finally sleep tonight.

Dean, on the other hand, looked pale, haggard, and worried. However, his head perked up as soon as he heard your voice. His eyes widened. He turned to Jody to make sure she could support John on her own, and she nodded at him.

It let Dean make his way straight for you.

Sam and Cas finally released you, like a horse waiting to bolt out of the stables. Your tears blurred your vision as you went to him.

When Dean swept you up into his arms, you were able to throw yours around his neck and cling to him for all you were worth. You buried your face into his neck and sobbed your relief.

You wouldn’t know that Dean’s eyes were shining and red, his mouth trembling slightly as he sucked in a breath and held you as tight as he dared. His hand came up to cup the back of your head, over your wild hair. His lips pressed to the side of your head as he closed his eyes for a moment.

“You okay?” he asked, when he was able to speak.

“Mhmm,” you nodded, though his question prompted you to pull back and find his face. Your heels came back to the ground, and you reached up to stroke his cheek and search his gaze.

“What about you?” you asked tremulously. “Your head?”

“’M fine,” he said. Though the truth was, he was reeling. His ears still rung from the bullet that hit Daniel between the eyes.

The weight of that decision was almost too fresh to be real, but it was heavy on Dean all the same. He could even get in legal trouble for this. He wasn’t supposed to have entered that building. Hell, he’d picked up a gun and shot a man.

Though he already knew what Sam would say.

Justification. Imminent danger. Self-defense.

Dean just didn’t know if that would fly here, especially with the Fire Department.

Right now, however, you were his lifeline. You grounded him in reality when you held his face in your hands. Just beyond you, he could see the relief on both Sam and Cas’s faces.

Dean gave them a smile, but he focused back on you. He held your hand to his cheek.

“Promise me you’re gonna stay put for a while,” he quipped. “Preferably where I can see you.”

You scoffed at him through the tears glittering in your eyes.

“Dean Winchester, if that isn’t the most hypocritical thing that’s ever come out of your mouth!” you said, punctuating your words with a slap on his chest.

“Hey!” he protested, but you ignored him. You gripped his shirt and felt the Kevlar underneath. It might’ve protected his chest, but he hadn’t had anything to protect his damn head.

“You run into fires, not bullets, you idiot,” you said, now wiping frustrated tears from your cheek.

Dean’s tension began to ease with a smile. He held you more securely, pulling you flush against him.

“You sound like Bobby,” he teased.

“Good!” you snapped. “You’re not allowed to scare me like that. Do you hear m—?”

He didn’t think he’d ever miss you giving him shit, but this time, it just made him smile until the corners of his eyes crinkled. Shortly before he cut you off with a searing kiss.

You made a sound of surprise, even as you gripped at his shirt, then his face to keep him there. You both knew this night was long from being over. An even longer way from recovering.

But for now, this was a good start.

AN: And so, we're drawing near to the end. 🥹 What did you think of the respective ends of Nick and Daniel Savage, and even Alastair? And of course, her and Dean's reunion. 💗

Soon (this weekend), we have the epilogue...

Next Time:

“So…I’ve gotta tell you something,” said Dean, after he parted from your lips for a moment, and allowed you to breathe. His tone made you tilt your head in suspicion.

“It’s nothing bad,” he said, though he looked a bit nervous.

Your brows furrowed. You led him to the couch, where he took your hands in his. It took him a moment to get started. He seemed stuck on what he wanted to say, or maybe just how he wanted to say it.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure I can handle it,” you teased.

Dean gave you a smile. His shoulders relaxed a little...

Keep Reading: THE EPILOGUE

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420 @illicithallways

[laurelwinchester]

actually my one note is this: it’s a little weird to me how many spn stans still refuse to understand the point of the prequel or admit that their preconceived notions about it were wrong. it is not a pro john show. it is not a john apologist show. and don’t even get me started on the deep misogyny regarding mary in this fandom. you guys need to seek help for your deep hatred of women tbh. it is literally about ‘’the degradation of john winchester.’’

so far he has been shown to be a young man with severe ptsd from the vietnam war that isn’t being treated effectively. he is sweet and sometimes funny because there is still life in him. he likes a girl. he loves his mother. he’s loyal to his friends. he wants to help people. he is also chaotic, obsessive, violent, reckless, overconfident, and, let’s be honest, rather stupid sometimes. these are not personality traits that age well. they especially do not age well when you add in the brutal trauma of the supernatural world, his wife’s violent and premature death, decades of hunting, the looming presence of heaven and hell, and literal mind wipes.

no, it is not at all hard to see how this john ends up being that john and it’s just bizarre to me that people don’t...get that.

but, then again, of course they wouldn’t want to acknowledge it. that would mean admitting that maybe, just maybe, life is not as simple and black and white as they need it to be.

the spn fandom’s grasp of john has always been weak imo. they see him as some lumbering monster who was always a monster and never anything else. he is everything bad and everything wrong and always was. there couldn’t possibly have ever been good in him. they actively make shit up (there is no canon - since y’all seem to love that word - evidence that john was homophobic, you just need him to be for some reason) in order to make him worse than he already was.

the winchesters - with their very blatant writing, their explanation that not all abusers are born evil but made that way through various circumstances and that generational trauma is, you know, a very real thing - threatens their extremely black and white worldview and fucks with their miserable headcanons. so they write it off.

which sucks for them because putting aside the dense layers of generational trauma and the aforementioned ‘’degradation of john winchester’’ it’s honestly just a fun and entertaining show with nostalgic old school spn and buffy vibes and i think you’re all missing out.

[retromotherfuckers]

When The Sun Sets - Part 5

What To Say

Characters:

morgan winchester (OC), dean winchester (his POV), sam winchester, john winchester, will mciver (OC) & bobby singer (mentioned)

Summary:

There was no part of Dean that could excuse his failure to act, his inability to keep them safe. They were all he had, and he'd fucked up so bad that one was gone. 

Warnings (for entire story):

SPN typical violence, so so much suppressing of emotions, vague mention of SA, depiction of torture, a very pro-torture main character, murder, vague mention of not eating for a while, parental abuse, slight suicidal ideation, SPN typical alcohol abuse, spoiler warning up to the end of season 10, following canon stops after the end of season 2 but things are sure to be mentioned

Word Count:

3.1k ~ roughly

A/N:

so this came to me in the shower lol. i literally sat down and wrote it right then and there. i ended up being in there for hours so don't ask about the water bill. 

this being part 5 kinda doesn't sit right with me but it also doesn't fit as a standalone either

i'm not really sure where to take this story after this so lmk if there's more you want to see, also if the pov is confusing. and i kinda wanna write a sam pov but i just relate more to dean so it's way easier for me to write him

this is basically a character study/relationship dynamic of dean and morgan

dean: 36, morgan: 35 (her body is 27), sam: 32

Dean Winchester wasn't proud of a lot of the things he'd done. But he took immense pride in his family and what they did. His father raised them as soldiers, and with the way of the world, it was necessary. He taught them how to shoot with such a pristine accuracy they could probably best a lifelong sharpshooter. He taught them to punch, how to aim, and get the most force out of it.

When he was six, he learned about the creatures that lurked in the dark. And how his dad was someone who fought them. About how his dad was a hero, which was why they had to stay with their uncle most of the time.

By the time he was eight, Dean slept with a silver knife under his pillow and a shotgun between him and his siblings. By ten, his dad gave him a .45. By thirteen, they stopped staying with Uncle Bobby, and Dean was officially in charge at all times.

And by nineteen, he had successfully taken out several monsters by himself.

"You know you're good at the job when you can take 'em out on your own," his dad would say afterward. It was his real introduction to the family business. He held his father's words like a Purple Heart, nearly floating on the praise for weeks. 

Even with the accomplishment, he couldn't stop feeling like his siblings were the shining lights of the family. This world ruined him and his father, but they were still young enough to enjoy it.

Sam had only been fifteen, but he was one of the smartest people Dean had ever met. He never really understood why Sam loved fantastical stories and books so much, even if it paid off in the end. That kid was a genius researcher who could find just about anything if you gave him the right materials. And if he needed to find the right materials, he did.

He wasn't just book smart, though. He was probably the most intelligent member of his family when it came to emotions and all that crap. Sam was always the first one to try to resolve a fight with words instead of fists, even though Dean and his father were apes who didn't seem to care.

And his little sister was one of the kindest. She was only a year younger than he, but she walked the earth like a being sent from above. Sure, they had their fights - and, fuck, there were a lot of them, now that he thought about it - but she always found some way to forgive him. Especially when he didn't deserve it.

Morgan took care of them. In every way, shape and form. Somehow, she anticipated what they needed before they knew it themselves. Whether that be a bowl of hot soup, a fight, or a bottle of jack, she always knew. Sam and their father would never stop fighting, and while Dean would nearly freeze, unsure which side to take, she would stay neutral and diffuse the situation. Or, if that didn't work, she'd take that hit for Sam.

Dean would panic when they fought. He always saw both sides. Sam: the kid, pissed off about his overly strict father that never let him have any freedom. John: the dad, pissed off that his son didn't understand how easy it was to get killed.

He knew why their father treated them the way he did. They needed to be taught how to handle themselves against anything, no matter the circumstances.

"The day you trust another hunter is the day you get killed." 

He trusted his siblings with his life. Even if they hadn't gone on hunts alone yet, he knew they'd protect his life with their own if it came down to it. But that would never happen. Dean wouldn't let it if it killed him.

When he was twenty-six, John died to save him. And part of him was numb to it, the death and all. Death was just a Tuesday to him. But this was his father, and another part of him was devastated. His father taught him almost everything he knew, cleaned up every single mess, and made sure Dean knew what he did. 

The last part - an ugly fucking part - was glad. His father was a great man, but he was so damn obsessed with the demon that killed their mother. Any chance Dean had at a childhood was stripped away from him at four years old. He was the oldest, so John made sure he stepped up. Sam and Morgan would die if he didn't.

The night his mother died was the night his father became his drill sergeant, and his siblings became his to protect.

He remembered a lot of that night. The fire, the smoke, baby Sammy completely unaware of what was going on around him, and Morgan screaming in terror because she didn't understand what was going on. Dean was little, too, and he didn't completely understand either, but he knew he had to keep them safe.

"That's your job, Dean." His father told him when he was seven. "You're the only one who can do it when I'm not here." 

Then, when Dean was twenty-eight, his sister would die for their younger brother. There had never been a day in which he didn't hate himself for it. It should've been him, but Morgan was faster. And he would never forgive himself for it.

Hunters died young. He'd known that all his life, but he never thought he'd outlive his siblings. There was no part of him that could excuse his failure to act, his inability to keep them safe. They were all he had, and he'd fucked up so bad that one was gone. 

Even if they'd been pitted against each other their whole lives. Who was a better shot, who threw the more damaging punch, who drew the knife faster. He might've been the one that won in their father's eyes, and at the time, it had meant everything. But now, it all seemed so useless. He wanted to go back and knock some damn sense into himself.

He went over more of the memories. When he gave Morgan his old knife for her birthday, and when he ripped it away from her because he was angry about something he didn't even remember. When she beat him at one of John's exercises and he swung at her. When she didn't fight back. When she started going out with Will and their father beat the shit out of the two of them. When he beat Will up for putting his hand on his little sister's ass and she did fight back.

He remembered when their father died and how Morgan didn't say a word to him. She had just sat and waited for him to go to her because she knew pushing him wasn't the way to get him to talk. He didn't say much at first, but she's the only one he told about that ugly part of him.

"Dad was a fucking dick," she had said, her eyes watering and voice cracking. Her words had given him the freedom to actually take a breath. He was the first to say something awful about their father after he died, but Morgan wouldn't let him think he was the only one thinking it. "And we deserved better than him."

That night, he was able to sleep for the first time in days.

He also remembered when Sam and their father had the worst fight of their lives. Their father went to hit Sam, something he rarely did. And this time, instead of taking it, Sam dodged it and sent one flying back.

Dean had been stuck watching. He agreed with his father that Sam would be safer with them than alone at college. But he also didn't want Sam to hate his life. And if school would make him happy, he wasn't really against it. Morgan was the one who stepped up, physically pulling Sam back and taking the inevitable swing their father had meant for the youngest.

"Enough!" She had yelled at both of them, wiping away the blood dripping down her cheek from their father's ring. It had snapped Dean out of his reverie, and all three of the men in the room stared at her with wide eyes. "Dad, go for a drive or something-"

"This is none of your-"

"I. Don't. Care." Morgan had been seething, and Dean had never heard such a tone used with their father. Every word was a sentence so dark and menacing chills crept up his spine. "Get. Out." 

Something in their father's face had changed as she told him to go. Like he had finally realized she wasn't the girl who used to cling to his leg when she wanted him to hold her. He could see the hunter he burned into her, an unwavering and unforgiving warrior who would bleed something dry if it meant saving a few lives.

So, with a final snarl, John left, and she immediately turned to Sam. She softened her voice a little, but her glare hadn't changed. He hadn't seen his sister that angry since the incident with Will. "Take a shower. And chill the fuck out." 

"But-"

"Sam." She didn't have to say anything else. "I'm not kidding."

It was an order, and Morgan never gave them orders. Dean did sometimes if he was following their father's command, but Morgan had taken charge, as she usually had done during times like these. 

When everything started to break.

Sam didn't argue with her after that.

It was then that Dean realized he was heaving. He just couldn't catch his breath. It was all falling apart, but so was he. His younger brother wanted to leave them, and even if he said it wasn't personal, Dean could only take it that way. And Sam would be in so much danger if he went to school. By himself, in one place, who knows what could have happened? The school could've been haunted, or there could be werewolves or vampires or-

"Dean," Morgan had said, shocking him away from his train of thought. Her voice was way more delicate. It was almost like she was talking to a frightened animal rather than her older brother. "Count to ten."

His breath was shaky and his head was moving from the left to the right in quick, jerky movements. He tried to get the word out, one. It was easy. He knew how to count to ten, for fuck's sake. But it was stuck on his tongue, and his tongue was stuck to the bottom of his jaw.

"Hey, it's okay," she soothed him, holding up her hands to display her fingers. How she had noticed his panic in the midst of everything going on around them, he had no idea. But she always saw those things. "I'll do it first, then we'll do it together."

That was just Morgan.

Dean's brother was half of his reason for living, but his sister was the other.

And now, at thirty-six, he had Morgan back. She looked the same as she did the last time he saw her alive. Her skin was smooth and a little bit tan. Her hair was that same dirty blonde he remembered so well. Her chin was sharp like their father's, but her nose was small like their mother's.

Dean had always been jealous of Morgan's eyes. He looked at himself and saw his father; he looked at his sister and saw his mother. Almond-shaped and blue with a green ring around the pupil. The earth and the sky had collided to give their mother her eyes. And Morgan was blessed with them, too.

And when he wanted nothing more than to talk to Mary, Morgan was the hardest person to look at. He wished it wasn't true, but he let himself resent her for it.

But now, they were so different. 

Morgan was, by no means, unscathed by the life. He had seen it, the way her eyes dimmed throughout her life. And he was sure she saw his do the same. Dean knew he looked his age, but his sister's body was still twenty-seven, so why did she look older than him? Why did she look like she had fought in two wars?

It was a stupid question to think, and he knew that. And he knew the answer to it, but it was still jarring.

They were gray and brown, not blue and green. Maybe it was the dim lighting, but Dean knew better. He was in the pit for six months or sixty years - whatever time measurement he wanted to go by at the moment - and he had it on good authority that he wasn't the same when he came back.

Dean watched Morgan watch Sam as he undid the iron shackles binding her to the chair. He stepped back after freeing her, presumably giving her a moment to get control of her bearings. She closed and opened her fist like she was regaining guardianship of her motor functions. She was clearly confused as she gazed around the room, her brow furrowing at the unfamiliar walls. Then her eyes traveled back to Sam, and she seemed even more perplexed.

"How old are you?"

Dean wasn't too shocked at the question; Sam had become a man since the last time Morgan had seen him. He hadn't gotten taller, but as his hair got longer, his features sharpened, and he grew into himself. He looked nothing like the him Morgan remembered. He looked more like himself as a kid back then.

"Thirty-two," Sam said. His voice was quiet, but it wasn't his usual tone. It was the voice he used when hunting, and he had to rescue someone. Temperate and resonant, like he wasn't a monster hunter.

"Sammy grew up. We both did," Dean quipped, making his voice way lighter than he felt. He took a few steps closer to her until he was just behind the youngest. He nodded to their brother conspiratorally. "Him more than me."

She didn't know what to say; Dean knew that, and he wouldn't force her. Her pale, anxious face turned to him at his words, and she stared at her older brother. He heard her mumble, but he didn't know what she said. He saw his sister doing the calculation in her head, realizing how long it had truly been for them. He knew how long it had been for him, and six months was nearly sixty years in Hell time.

He had no desire to do that math.

"Eight years?" She rasped out, her voice hoarse like she hadn't used it that whole time. "That's it?"

Apparently, not knowing the right thing to say was a family trait.

The eldest Winchester was stuck staring at her. Her blonde hair he had almost forgotten, her rough and slightly metallic voice, his mother's eyes. He had never thought he'd hear or see any of them ever again. She was practically skin and bone - something that concerned him. It seemed her demon alter-ego had forgotten that humans needed to eat and wasn't feeding her. It probably wasn't letting her sleep either. Her face was the same one he had remembered so well, but this version was so gaunt and exhausted.

He was tempted to carry her into a room and put her to bed like she was little again. She needed rest; there was no doubt about that. And he'd let her sleep for days if she didn't look like she'd starve.

When Morgan tried to get up, she stumbled. Dean shot a hand out to catch her by the waist out of reflex, and she breathed out in relief. It looked like she could barely stand.

"Hey, kid," Dean greeted, his words gentle and affectionate. She used to hate it when he called her a kid. She was only a year younger than him, after all, and when they were teenagers, it pissed her off to no end. He kept doing it as they became adults, partially to patronize her, partially to mess with her in good fun. But he had never said it like that. This time, he was calling her the most endearing version of her name. "Good to see you."

Even so, he knew that he hadn't reached it. There were no words he could say to express what he was truly feeling: relief, regret, sadness, happiness, anger. None of it was right. He had just missed his little sister.

She didn't push him when he ignored her question. His non-answer answered enough. He looked at Sam, and saw his little brother's wet eyes with an apologetic smile on his lips. He realized their expressions were probably identical. Morgan's eyes moved back and forth between her brothers. This time, Dean noticed the unshed tears in them.

So he did the only thing he could think of: he pulled her in.

He drew her in so fast she almost lost her footing, but Dean would keep her upright without a second thought. His arms completely enveloped the whole of her, fierce and protective, like she'd slip away if he let go. She didn't have a lot of strength, but he knew she was putting all of her muscle into squeezing him right back. He could feel his shirt getting damp from her tears, and he buried his face in her hair to breathe in her scent.

It was so familiar, yet so different. Morgan used to smell like her favorite shampoo and conditioner, lavender and bergamot. But now she had a hue of citrus to her, with the remains of sulfur. It unsettled him.

Dean let go when she drew back, but it was the last thing he wanted to do. Then he acknowledged Sam, who was waiting to hold his big sister again. He delicately let the support of his sister pass to his youngest brother, and their embrace was just as intense. Sam didn't look like he was ready to let this moment end, but he had to when she pulled away.

She looked like she wanted to say something, but Morgan's mouth kept opening and closing repeatedly like she couldn't find the words. Join the club, he thought. 

But it was still Morgan.

And Dean would never let anything happen to her again, even if he didn't know how to say it.

[according2thelore]

would kill to see es and ls sam and dean sit around and talk about john winchester lmao

OOF

i mentioned this super briefly in one of the posts but i think this would be such a point of contention for all of them, lol.

if this were S1 sam&dean, sam would see this as such a betrayal from his older self, because LS!Sam&Dean have settled into a lightly critical, fond idea of john. yeah, he was kind of intense, but he protected us. he did the best he could, even if we grew up without certain things. they don't do anything to deconstruct their relationship/the ideals he instilled/his low points. he existed, and he was our father, so he was good.

it's easier to love john from afar.

and ES!Sam, who still carries so much fire and anger towards john for stanford and the childhood that was stolen from him, would see LS!Sam's passive--if not effusively loving, then content--remembrance of john to be a betrayal of the highest order. it's not that ES!Sam never thought they'd forgive john, but the fact that sam seems so beaten down in other aspects too makes him furious. who is this coward that rolls over for dean and dad and the hunt?

if this were S2-3 sam&dean, i think dean would have more to say to his older self. because in S2-3, we see a lot more resentment for john coming out. in the "i was there for sam, he never was, dad was a bastard." scene, the impala-destroying scene, and john telling dean to kill sam, we see ES!Dean has a lot of unresolved fury towards him. to my recall, LS!Dean is still a little more bitter (trying to let adam out of the life/"what did dad do for your birthday?", "he was a great dad" from mary and dean's face after, "i never was [a child]") but he's still very clearly pro-john. we even see ES!Sam soften towards dad in the wake of his death, where ES!Dean is all shards.

a LS!Dean that is complimentary of their father and so far removed from the betrayal of being asked to kill sam would terrify ES!Dean. this almost loving complacency to what--to ES!Dean--is the worst thing he's ever been asked to do, and in the lead-up to his deal coming due (bc dad, in some part, failed them), would be a betrayal of what dean stands for. he understand the kneejerk reaction to defend and love dad, but it still irks him.

they would view the phrase "he did his best" VERY DIFFERENTLY.

ES!Sam/Dean would maybe even see it as a lie. dad could have done more. he could've talked to sam and dean about anything. he could've prepared them better, he could've been more transparent, less punitive, less angry, less goddamn drunk. "dad did his best," is wrong. he forced dean into a boy's home because he stole food. he died before he could apologize for any of it, and gave dean the biggest burden of his life.

LS!Sam&Dean would see it as the truth. dad wasn't perfect, and sometimes he wasn't good, but he really did his best. he wasn't capable of more. he was punitive, and occasionally cruel, and didn't do anything for their birthdays or christmas. but it was literally the best he was capable of. was john "a perfect father?" no. but they've grown the perspective to see that he was really trying. i mean, he kept sam's soccer trophies, and he loved them. but he was a man obsessed, and there's only so much he's capable of.

i think that conversation between LS!Sam&Dean and ES!Sam&Dean could go a lot of different ways. i think it would be tense and VERY defensive. and LS!Sam&Dean might've gotten protective over john's memory as the years have gone by, so this open hostility from their younger selves chafes. it's easier to love a dead man, after all.

YIKES this got away from me lol!

but you're so right, anon!!!! this ask makes me wild! this is just my perspective on how the boys see john as the seasons go on, you're totally valid in your own! but YES!!!! i think this is a topic they'd have to navigate very carefully, which is not ES!Sam's, LS!Sam's, ES!Dean's, or LS!Dean's speciality, lmao.

thank you for this lovely ask anon! i am kissin u on both cheeks!!!!!! <3

-lizzy