#sammy gets real defensive over this sort of thing

[sammygender]

“Dean Sam domestic abuse fic (insert heart eyes)” sounds fascinating

my favourite <3

putting this as a wip was kind of cheating because the fic that i originally titled this in my google docs was my pride and joy 'by the one who loves you' which is an examination of how the early-ish seasons dynamic of sam as physical punching bag happened <3 . but then i ended up writing an unfinished sequel/companion piece in the same document with the same title...... and this has a bit from deans pov, a bit from bobbys?? and a bit more from sams. i mainly just wrote this out of vague desire to see what an adult figure confronting deans behavior when they were still young mightve looked like. in retrospect i think maybe a teacher wouldve worked better? but i had fun experimenting trying to get bobby's voice who ive never written before

its all over the place and may never get finished especially bc i dont really feel like what i ended up writing is a scene that slots hugely well into canon....and its in a world where bobby is like. less of a deangirl. but i might play around with it

snippet:

“And you’re a hunter,” Bobby says. “Now, if we aren’t all just a community of men who hit things to deal with our problems.”

“Right!” Dean says. “So there’s no problem.” He says it in that defensive Dean manner he has, the one that betrays he is starting to feel guilt but he’ll never admit it in a million years. No, I don’t feel bad about eating your Halloween candy, Sammy, but here’s a Walkman anyway. Whatever. I stole it from that chick back in Nevada. Now you can listen to whatever emo shit you want without disturbing me and Dad’s real taste in music, and by the way, fuck you, I did not say that I liked Nirvana, I said that one song was sort of okay, but I’m not saying we can’t listen to the rest of the album together later if you want.  

and

“And so, what, I can’t do anything about it?" Dean snaps. "How is that fair? He gets to make me feel however the hell he likes and I just have to put up with it?”

[humandisorderincarnatedean]

oh it's so delicious sammy going all take-charge and commanding, with a bit of a know-it-all edge, and roy chafing up against that when this college-aged kid very confidently tells him 'you're up against something you can't take on', sam getting so riled up he's just about to tell roy what's actually happening and dean steps in as they're yelling in each other's faces. I also really like how sam entered this scene and instead of talking towards anyone just stared dramatically off into space that was real fun

it's already been pointed out that this dynamic - sam fighting with an older man to be taken seriously, dean having to play peacemaker between the two - is very much a proto-version of what we will see happening between sam and john in 1.20, and how we can infer a lot of their interactions were before sam left for stanford. but also, I wonder if this sort of thing is similar to how it happens when dean and john went on hunts together- I can see john similarly taking charge when he's decided he's the most competent person around to deal with the situation, provoking other men into defensiveness in the process, and dean playing mediator and smoothing over john's rough communications style so that it doesn't end in a fight

[curlynerd]

You're Bacon Me Crazy Word Count: 2K Rating: T Summary: "I can like more than one kind of burger, you know!" Or, Dean comes out through complicated burger metaphors. Notes: humor, canon-adjacent, coming out, established Destiel, #pray4Sam

Also read on AO3!

"You're really having two burgers, Dean?" Sam asks in his most smug, most obnoxious "I’m eating kale for lunch" voice. Dean really hates that voice.

Dean straightens his back and spreads his hands out, like the two wrapped burgers, the extra large fries, and the soda with two straws are a majestic bounty. “I’m a growing boy, Sammy."

“Uh-huh,” Sam deadpans. He lifts the takeout lid of his salad and starts carefully drizzling the vinaigrette cup over his bed of leafy greens and grilled chicken. “And you’re definitely not going to bully Cas into splitting them with you? You know he doesn’t need to eat.”

Something tight and anxious curls in Dean’s chest. “No!” he blurts out, realizing a second too late that it’s normal for him to share his food with Cas. Just because he’s been doing it more now that he and Cas are finally together does not mean that it’s weird now.

In response to Dean’s defensiveness, Sam raises a self-righteous eyebrow in sync with his salad-laden fork. “Can he even really taste them? I thought he didn’t like food in angel mode.”

Dean swallows down a multitude of answers. He likes sharing the experience with Cas anyway. He thinks the way his face scrunches up at the molecules is cute. It makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside that an angel -- his angel -- is willing to put up with something so silly and mundane and human as taste-testing different burgers.

He really, really needs to tell Sam the truth about him and Cas. Hell, he’s been trying to for months! But every time the perfect opportunity presents itself, he turns into a fuckin’ coward.

And today definitely is another perfect moment. The conversation has naturally turned to Cas. They’re sitting at a picnic table at the park, with nobody around to overhear Dean spill his guts in the most agonizing and uncomfortable way possible. They’re working a case, so immediately after the conversation Dean can bury himself in research and hunting and not have to deal with Sam’s big, obnoxious “let’s make a huge deal out of this!” puppy dog eyes. And Cas isn’t even here right now to make things more awkward. He’s still checking out the victim at the coroner's office across the street.

Dean tries not to think about what a big baby he’s being by ignoring this golden opportunity. “He just tastes stuff different as an angel. He’s learning how to pick out the nuance.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Because there’s so much nuance to ‘extra cheese’ or ‘hold the tomato.’”

“Oh like you’d know, Mr. Tofu Burger.”

“You’d eat a burger off the floor. Are you really trying to convince me you care about what kind of burger it is?”

Dean huffs and levels an indignant glare at his brother. “I absolutely have a favorite burger.”

“Then why’d you get two different kinds?”

"I can like more than one kind of burger, you know!"

Sam snorts. "That's just an excuse to eat more burgers." He spears a forkful of tomato and spinach with a smug little twinkle in his eye.

"It's so not," Dean insists. He gestures at the two wrapped foil rounds in front of him. “These are two unique burgers that both have their own delicious qualities.”

“Really?” Sam’s expression is so pompous Dean kind of wants to throw a french fry at it. Except that would be a waste of a perfectly good fry.

“Yes ‘really.’ Look--” Dean carefully unwraps his first burger. “This is a pickle burger. And not just any ol’ pickle burger. The best, most amazing, and -- dare I say it? -- sexiest pickle burger in the entire continental US.” He smirks as Sam rolls his eyes. “Now I can tell by that condescending look in your eye, you’re wondering, ‘What the hell is so special about a pickle burger? It’s just pickles!’ But that’s where you’re wrong.” Dean lifts the top bun and points down to the burger, looking almost gleeful at all its toppings. “Fried pickles, pickled red onions, relish…Sour and sweet and crunchy, the perfect compliment to a juicy, meaty burger. And one this big? You’ve gotta have a little something special to handle all this meat.” Sam tilts his head, his mouth twitching like Dean said something embarrassing. Was it waxing poetic about vegetables? Probably. Dean chooses to ignore it.

“Ya know,” he continues, “for the longest time I didn’t think I’d like a pickle burger. For years I’d be at diners and think, ‘...maybe? I dunno. Probably not for me.’” Dean pulls his mouth down into a thoughtful frown and bobs his head to mimic his past thoughts. “And then...I’m not sure, I just figured, why not at least try it? All those burgers I’ve had all over the country; I could at least give it a whirl. And it. Was. Awesome!” Dean gently places the bun back on his burger and gives it a little affectionate pat. “Now I can’t get enough of ‘em.”

Sam's expression does a complicated dance that Dean can't even begin to follow. But it suddenly clears into a look of dawning realization, followed quickly by horrified guilt, before it clamps down entirely.

Weird.

"Well...I can't fault someone for enjoying a good pickle burger," Sam says slowly. He doesn't meet Dean's eye, keeping his gaze down as he delicately stabs at his salad with his fork. He frowns at the cucumber slice he spears and carefully dislodges it from the prongs. "Especially if they really like, uh, pickles?" Sam cringes a little down at his greens. Dean can't blame him. It's a sad looking salad.

"Exactly!" Dean gestures down at the burger. "I'm a meat man and a pickle guy." Sam looks up toward the sky and then down toward the ground below with a sort of pleading desperation. "This is a great burger for me. And don't even get me started on the sauce--"

"Okay!" Sam's voice pitches up several octaves. Dean frowns at him, but before he can ask, Sam takes a deep breath and plasters a warm, understanding smile across his face. "You know what? You're right, Dean. After all this time. All those, uh...burgers. I'm glad you've figured out which one you like best."

"Well, not quite. I mean, this one…" Dean carefully unwraps the second burger. "Is there anything sexier than a breakfast burger?" He practically beams down at the golden-brown bun, the fringes of fried egg drooping over the side, crisp bacon peeking out from under the patty.

"I...I don't know?" Sam has the same terrified expression as when Dean drags him onto ramshackle roller coasters at crappy county fairs. God, he's such a baby about cholesterol.

“Yeah. C’mon, you know they’re great!” Dean says cavalierly, because he’s not going to miss a chance to gloat about the awesome food Sam misses out on with all his salads. “Bacon is, you know, bacon! It’s the best tasting thing in the world! Salty, greasy, crunchy…”

Sam’s brow furrows so deeply it’s like it’s mining for coal, his unfocused eyes searching the empty space between them like he’s trying to figure out the deep, dark mystery of bacon.

Dean rolls his eyes. Of course he wouldn’t understand. The dude eats low sodium turkey bacon. "I know you haven't had good, real bacon in ages--" Sam looks offended. Then confused. Then offended again. "--but trust me, man. It's awesome. When ya got bacon in your burger, it automatically makes the burger a hundred times better. Can’t get enough of it!” Sam groans like he's in pain.

Dean grins and keeps going. “And you’ve gotta admit, a fried egg is a thing of beauty. Give me a good silky, drippy egg all over my burger and I’m a happy guy.” Sam’s nose scrunches up into abject horror. “You get that gorgeous, soft yolk oozing everywhere...It’s creamy and delicious and unctuous and--”

“Dean!” Sam shrieks. He lets his fork fall into his bowl and covers his face with both his hands. His voice is muffled, but it’s definitely a tormented whine. “I know this is a tough topic for you, but can you please just say you’re bi and never use words like ‘unctuous’ again? I’m begging you!”

Dean freezes. “Wh-What?” Did Sam really--? He--? How does he know?!

Sam pops up from his elbows, dragging both hands through his hair as he frees his face from hiding. “I get it, dude. Okay? I get it. I mean...I don’t get it.” He glances down at the two burgers with a perturbed look and holds up his hands in surrender. “But I get it.”

Dean stares at him. “Get what?” he demands. His heart is pounding fast. Bi. Sam knows he’s bi. When did he figure it out?! Why’s he bringing it up now?!

Sam fixes him with a flat look. “The burgers? The...God...bacon sex metaphor? The pickle guy thing? I get it. Please. Please stop talking about eggs like that. I’ll never eat an omelette again!”

Sex metaphors? Pickle guy?! Dean takes a moment to think and...yeah. Yup. He really did say “I’m a pickle guy,” out loud. Wow.

Maybe he should just...roll with it?

Because otherwise Sam is definitely going to mock him for that for the rest of his life, and honestly, coming out is the much better option.

“You got me,” Dean says with a small laugh. He spreads his arms out with a bit of a flourish, and it’s a relief to say it. It feels good. “What can I say? I like all kinds of burgers. And hotdogs. Tacos. Kielbasa...”

“Please stop,” Sam groans, rubbing at his eyes with his hand.

Oh yeah, this is definitely the better option. Dean fell ass-backwards into a conversation he’s been dreading for months, and the only person feeling awkward and miserable here is Sam!

Really it’s a win-win.

Dean grins from ear to ear as he relishes Sam’s mortification. “Hey now, I thought you were supportive! What happened to ‘I’m happy for you and your burgers?’”

“I am happy for you, I just wish this wasn’t happening over lunch…” Sam whines as he drops his hands on the table.

“What’s Sam happy about?” Cas asks, startling the both of them by approaching their picnic table. His eyes are earnest and sincerely curious, which only causes Sam to send a miserable, pleading look his way while shaking his head.

“Sam thinks pickles are gay,” Dean says to Cas with the same sort of smug glee of the teacher’s pet tattling about note passing in class.

Cas scrunches his face in confusion as he sits down beside Dean. “Sam, that’s...nonsensical.”

“That’s what I said!” Dean lies, because the way Sam’s eyebrow is twitching right now is too damn funny. “Wait til you hear what he thinks about bacon.”

Sam drops his face into his hands again. “This is the worst day of my life,” he groans as he massages his temples with his fingers.

Cas furrows his brow at him. “You’ve been to Hell.”

“And I’m still there, apparently!” Sam flings his hand up in exasperation. Cas quietly takes a sip of Dean’s drink, which for some reason just pisses Sam off more.

“You know, you could have just been normal about this. No weird, gross food metaphors. Just--” Sam drops his voice several octaves and bobs his head in a deliberately annoying parody of Dean. “--‘Hey Sam, by the way, I’m bi and totally in love with Cas, no big deal,’ or whatever.”

Dean goes still while Cas tilts his head at the two of them.. “Who says I’m in love with Cas?” Wait. Is that obvious too? Shit, well, looks like he gets to rip two bandaids off today. Thank God for the hilarious panic on Sam's face, because otherwise Dean would be the one freaking out here.

Sam’s eyes go huge, all color draining out of his face. “Oh shit. I didn’t-- I’m sorry, I--”

Dean can only manage to maintain the ruse for a few seconds before he bursts out laughing. “Nah, I’m just messing with you. Where have you been, man? Cas and I have been together for ages. I thought you were the smart one!”

Sam looks like he wants to leap across the picnic table and strangle Dean.

With a glare so sour it could peel paint, Sam snatches Dean’s extra large order of french fries and storms off toward the car to sulk. About three paces away, he stops, turns around, and levels a stern finger at Dean alongside his scowl. “For the record. I’m proud of you. And I’m honored you chose to trust me with this information,” he hisses in a frustrated huff before he spins on his heel and marches away.

Dean wipes a tear from his eye, still chuckling under his breath. Cas stares after Sam in concern.

“Why is he so mad?”

Dean shrugs off the question as he slides the pickle burger in front of Cas and nudges him with his elbow to try it. “Hell if I know. If you ask me, dude needs to have a burger every once in awhile.”

[icefire149]

30! Deancas, its cold so cas insists on a scarf instead of his tie

Char I'm so sorry this took a million years to write. Work and life kept me extremely busy, and then this lovely fic kept going in a different direction (which seems like a theme in every prompt I tackled). I really hope you enjoy this one, and have a lovely day :D

#30 - I love you mumbled into a scarf

Dean had his head buried so deep in thought about the impala’s winter maintenance that he almost missed the familiar foot steps breezing past in the garage. His eyebrows pressed together as he pulled his head out of the car. “Cas, buddy, where are you going?”

Cas stopped dead in his tracks, and turned on his heels. “Oh, Dean.” His gaze nervously glanced around the garage. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Are you okay?” Dean leaned against the side of the impala now, and crossed his arms. “You look kinda spooked.”

Cas’ gaze flitted around the car. “Do you happen to have Jack with you?”

“Nah,” Dean answered, scratching the back of his neck. “He went on a grocery run with Sam about a half hour ago.”

“Oh,” Cas exhaled, and visibly relaxed some. “That’s good. He’ll enjoy that greatly.”

“Did you need him?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“No.”

Dean walked around the car and stopped closer to Cas. “I’m gonna need more than that. What’s up?”

“I need to go Christmas shopping.”

Shaking his head slowly, Dean blinked. “Are….are we celebrating Christmas this year?”

“I’d like to,” Castiel confessed. “I know you and Sam have your own traditions and this is your home, but I’d like to give Jack his first Christmas since….last year he wasn’t here.”

“Oh.” The word tumbled out of Dean’s mouth. He was going to need time to process every verbal hit Cas pummeled him with. In a daze, he pointed at the impala with his thumb. “Do you want a ride?”

“Yes. Yes, of course,” Cas answered genuinely surprised. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He was still sorting Cas’ words when he found himself opening the impala’s door.

The angel slid into the front passenger seat, and they were off in the direction of the nearest shopping mall. It wasn’t until they hit their second red light that something finally clicked into place in his brain. “Is that why you tend to disappear around the holidays?” Turning, he kept his eyes on Cas long enough to see the twist in his expression.

“Maintaining customs, holiday traditions in this case are incredibly important to humans. I didn’t want to overstep or interfere.”

“You do realize I leave probably a dozen voice mails the closer it gets to Christmas, right?”

“Yeah, it’s quite irritating having my phone going off so often when I’m trying not to take from your time with Sam.”

“Cas,” Dean said exasperatedly. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel, but the blaring honk of the car behind him momentarily cut off his train of thought. When traffic settled so did Dean, “I already get enough of Sammy, and I’m sure he’s more than sick of me too, especially around the holidays.”

“Oh.”

“And yeah, I’ve been wanting you to join us….since forever. Seriously.”

“I’m sorry.”

There was a pained tone in his voice that startled Dean down to his core. He shivered involuntarily. Glancing over at Cas, he saw that the angel had his eyes glued out the window. It bothered Dean not being able to pin down what was bothering Cas. It felt like so much more was hidden in that apology.

Turning back to the road, Dean reached a hand out blindly until it connected with the sleeve of Cas’ coat. “There’s nothing to be that upset about, your heart was in the right place.”

Cas didn’t respond, and Dean didn’t loosen his grip. Instead, he tightened it, but spoke with a note of levity. “And how many times do I gotta tell you that the bunker is your home too?”

“Once more, perhaps?”

Dean could feel the constriction in his chest loosen at the faint smile he could hear in Cas’ voice. He shook his head. “Giving Jack a real first Christmas is a great idea. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it months ago.”

“I think we’ve all been a bit too preoccupied.”

“Yeah.” Dean withdrew his hand and turned the car down the nearest exit. “You’re not wrong.” Basically since Jack was born they’ve been non-stop busy. The past few months in particular were miserable, for all of them.

“I know things aren’t one hundred percent safe with Michael still out there,” Cas started. “But I’m glad that you’ll be home for Christmas. I fear I would’ve ruined Jack’s holiday if you weren’t here.”

“Nah,” Dean argued, feeling his eyebrows pinch together. “My presence shouldn’t make that much of a difference.”

“Dean.” He could feel the angel’s stare sliding under his skin. “I left Jack with Sam so I could chase every whisper, blade, bullet, and trap that might lead to you. And from what I’ve gathered, Sam did much of the same passing Jack off on whoever was willing to keep an eye on him. That wasn’t fair to him, and I’m not proud of my behavior.”

“Hey,” Dean tried cutting through Cas’ frustration with himself. “You had no idea what Sam was gonna do.”

“Jack was never meant to be Sam’s responsibility. I-”

“You did the best you could at the time.” Cas didn’t answer, and Dean couldn’t risk taking his eyes off of traffic in that moment. “I mean it, and besides we’re well past that tunnel now. And we’re gonna give Jack a real Christmas.”

“Thank you.”

Dean hummed in response, and spotted what he was looking for: the sign for the mall. “Don’t tell Sammy, but-” He glanced at Cas’ curious expression. “since we found the bunker, I’ve always wanted to make it look like Christmas threw up all over the place.”

And to Dean’s genuine surprise, Cas laughed. It was happy and light, and when Dean turned for a heartbeat, the image of Cas with his head tilted back was branded into his memory. The corner of his mouth curled into a grin. “After growing up watching every Christmas special imaginable as a replacement for actually celebrating the holiday normally...I think it’s like making up for lost time if we go overboard.”

Another hearty laugh rocked Cas. “Makes logical sense to me.”

“Besides the kid will get a massive kick out of it.”

“I hope so,” Cas muttered, as the car came to a stop in the parking space.

“Oh trust me, he will,” Dean said throwing an arm behind the back of his seat and turning to face the angel. “Soooo….where to first?”

Cas observed their surroundings before letting his stare rest on Dean. “I’m not sure.”

“Well we can just check out whichever store is closest and work our way around. Sound good?”

“Yes,” Cas smiled softly.

Dean’s hand rested on the door handle, but the movement next to him made him pause. He watched Cas dig a hand into his jacket pockets until he pulled out a long, dark blue scarf. “Traded the tie out for a new accessory?”

The angel snapped his hands to his chest in order to hold the scarf tightly. “It’s new,” he said defensively.

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Dean grinned. “Did you go out of your way to buy something the same exact shade as your favorite tie?”

Cas’ eyes trailed down to the fabric between his fingers. “Maybe,” he answered after a short, meditative pause.

“It’s nice,” Dean said pushing his door open. “I was wondering where the tie was today.” He got out of the car and Cas quickly followed him on the other side.

Cas hooked the scarf behind his neck. “It felt redundant.” His expression quickly twisted in frustration as his hands failed to wrap the scarf in a way that would be comfortable.

“Need some help, buddy?”

The angel’s gaze pierced him like a knife, but that didn’t stop Dean from circling around the impala to stop directly in front of Cas. He held his hands out. “Just let….”

Cas’ hands fell to his sides, and the frustration slowly smoothed out of his face. His gaze locked onto Dean’s.

“-me help.” Dean started wrapping the scarf properly so Cas could duck the lower half of his face out of the chilly, winter air whenever he wanted.

There was something magnetic in Cas’ demeanor. As it circled and grew in his eyes, it filled Dean with a soft warmth that drew him a step closer. His skin burned, but on his brother’s life he couldn’t remember in that moment why he would normally never let himself get this close.

Dean could feel the puffs of Cas’ breath caressing his face, sending goosebumps across every inch of his skin. Despite this, he reached forward and finished laying and puffing the scarf up.

The apples of the angel’s cheek’s appeared pinker when Dean’s gaze slid up from the blue fabric that was still caught between his fingers. Cas’ bottom lip twitched for a second, and then he sunk his face into the scarf.

Thoughts slid back into Dean’s head. Louder than ever. The tips of his fingers clung a little tighter to the scarf. This feeling wasn’t new. Everything that had to do with Castiel, it was like a Gordian Knot. There was too much to sort and untangle. The fragile thing they had was too important to him to destroy completely. The solution was simple and staring him in the face, but he’d been teetering on that decision for a decade now.

Before he could move, a simple vibration resounded up his fingertips. And before Dean could ask what the angel had said, Cas broke the moment.

His hands slowly and shakily unhooked Dean’s grip, lowering them. The scarf slid down Cas’ face as he momentarily glanced around the parking lot. Dean quickly forgot about the brief indescribable look in the angel’s stare, when a glimpse of Cas’ teeth caught his eye.

The tension eased in Cas’ shoulders. He released Dean’s hands with a widening smile. “Let’s go. I’m not sure what would be suitable for a Christmas tree. Any ideas?”

“Yeah,” Dean grinned, losing himself in this new moment. “We’ll have to go elsewhere and grab your truck, but I have several ideas.”

The prompt was from this list. I'm not expecting any more prompts from this one, but if there's one you really want me to try please ask! (and specify the prompt list).

[bijoharvelle]

doing these prompts! today is “sprawling on the floor with the fan on and lights off” & it’s dedicated to @starlightcastiel because she’s steadily reblogging all of these and making me uwu with her tags read the whole series!

Dean’s shoulders are fucking killing him and it doesn’t help that he’s just sprawled over the tarp on the hardwood floor. But, in his defense, it’s not like there’s any furniture in the living room yet so there’s really no alternative. Plus, Sam is sprawled out next to him so it’s almost kinda nice, even with the upper back pain. 

The air conditioner isn’t wired right and Dean doesn’t mind a little vigilante electrician work on his own, but that stuff is bigger guns than he feels comfortable with, so they’ve been making do with the ceiling fans on high. And now, at the end of the day, lights off, fans cranked up, and a freshly painted entire first floor, Dean and Sam are both shirtless, in ancient cut-offs, and starfished over the impressive original wood flooring.

“Dude,” Sam drawls, heat-lazy and exhausted and, also, two beers looser. “You own a house.”

Dean laughs a little, something wheezy, and brings his hand up to scrub at his face. “Technically, the bank owns a house, Sammy. I’m just allowed to live here until it’s mine.”

Sam flops a hand dismissively and then reaches over to shove at Dean. It’s weak and he leaves his hand to rest on his shoulder there. “Shut up. You own a house.”

And Dean smiles a little, soft and proud, to himself and nods. “Cas and I own a house.”

“You and Cas own a house!” Sam repeats with a drunken sort of elation and then they’re both laughing at that, backs moving along the hardwood as they do, fan whipping Sam’s too-long hair around.

They’re still laughing when Cas pads down from the second floor, head tilted a little. He’s wearing an old Black Flag tee shirt with the sleeves ripped off and boxers and there’s spackling paste in his hair and dotted over his arms. He looks good, so good that Dean has to sit up, pulls his knees in and loop his arms around his legs.

“What’s funny?” Cas asks, dropping himself to the floor with less than a lot of grace (He’ll explain to Dean, at some later time, in bed together, that his body felt different the first few weeks of being human, like the vessel was more his than it had ever been as an angel, even during his brief human stints then.) and yawning.

“We own this house,” Dean answers, which sets Sam off into pealing laughter once more. Dean smiles wide and Cas definitely doesn’t get whatever the joke is but he smiles back and hey, that’s good enough. Dean upsets his balance so he can lean into Cas’s space, kiss him soft and sure and sweet. In the back of his head, he hears Sam’s laughter trail off. When he pulls away, his brother is looking at them with a tilted chin, with something curled-up and achingly fond on his face. (Dean hasn’t convinced him to call Eileen yet but he thinks Sam is coming around to the idea - it won’t be long.)

“We haven’t eaten since breakfast,” Dean points out and Cas yawns again and nods and this time it’s him tilting toward Dean, propping himself up against Dean’s shoulder.

“Pizza,” Sam drawls out, wiggling a little to dig his cellphone out of his back pocket.

They eat pizza and drink beer sitting cross-legged on the floor. The air-conditioning doesn’t work and the lights are off, but the fans keep circling and there are streetlights outside that do enough. Dean doesn’t know if he’s ever really lived anyplace with streetlights. Dean doesn’t know if he’s ever really lived anyplace, not really, not Lisa’s, not even the bunker or Bobby’s. 

But this house is his, and it’s Cas’s. And it’s Sam’s whenever he wants it to be and it’s Jack’s whenever he swings back from his road to find himself. And Dean can’t wait for them to make it a home, too. 

tags under the cut, as always pls let me know if you wanna be removed or added!

@prayedtoyou • @folklorecastiel • @good-things-do-happen-dean • @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you • @nesnej •  @bianca29753 • @spaceshipkat • @601218764 • @nickelkit • @dizzypinwheel • @epple-benene • @kayrosebee • @feraladoration • @queenvee08 • @destielangst • @destiel-is--real • @brazencas • @destielle • @flowersforcas  • @50shadesofsubtext

[crashdevlin]

Jump The Shark

Author’s Note: This is part nineteen of The Best Laid Plans series

Summary: When John gets a call from the youngest son he never got to meet, Y/n goes with him to find out what happened to the one-night stand John had back in 1990.

Pairing: Alpha!John x Omega!Reader

Word count: 3597

Story Warnings: angst...A/B/O dynamics, canon divergence, angst, mentions of physical violence, mentions of mindfuckery, mentions of ferality, pining, did I mention angst?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You hadn't said anything. Not from the moment you and John found the truck. You climbed up into the cab and changed into jeans, a black and green plaid flannel and a pair of hiking boots. You dropped your suit skirt and blouse out the window going 80 down the interstate, and then you closed your eyes and listened to the Rolling Stones.

You had to open your eyes when your memories started attacking you.

Dean had been so sure that you were the one he wanted, the one he was looking for...but that was Dean Smith and Y/n Colt. That was a Stanford MBA and a former Miss Teen USA runner-up. The idea that he wanted to mark you was particularly hurtful and you were kinda glad you made him wait because you weren't sure if it would have reset like the first mark Sam gave you and the last thing you wanted was for Dean to be tethered to you when he could barely stand to be around you.

He only wanted you because he was someone else. He was someone else, but his soul was still stuck on you. You both felt that pull because you were connected but he didn't want you. Smith liked Colt, but Winchester would never love Y/l/n.

John just drove. It was obvious he had no destination in mind, he just pointed the truck West and drove. Part of you wished that he would go back to Mississippi but you knew that your semi-normal was gone...and it was better. You were a hunter and so were your alphas. No normal for you.

"It hit her hard, Sammy," you heard John whispering as he drove when you woke up a few hours into Missouri. "She hasn’t been that close with your brother in years and the fact that it was all fake is killing her."

A pang of sadness hit you as your brain called forth what John was talking about. The haze of sleep had taken the memory, but now it was clear why your heart felt like so many broken pieces shoved into a box in your chest.

"Yeah, we know that but he won't say it and she probably wouldn't be able to hear it now anyway." John sighed as Sam spoke through the phone. "Son, I don't know what we can do other than what we always do. If you need help, just call, but she definitely doesn't need to be around your brother for a while. All right. Keep me updated," John said before setting his phone on the dashboard. "I know you’re awake, 'mega. Can't fool me."

"Wasn't trying to fool you. Just letting you finish your conversation," you responded, sitting up and stretching as best as you could in the truck cab. "What'd Sam want?"

"Tell me that the whole deal in Cincinnati was the Angels fucking with us. Specifically fucking with Dean. They wanted to prove to him that he was always supposed to be a Hunter or something."

"And we just got pulled along for the ride? That was nice of them." You rolled your eyes and reached down for your purse, pulling out a travel mouthwash. "So, what, everything's dandy now?" you asked as you took a drink of the mint liquid, swished it around in your mouth and swallowed.

"You know, you're supposed to spit that out, right?"

"Only quitters spit," you said automatically. You ran your hand across your face as you dropped the bottle to the floorboard. Dirty jokes Dean told you as a teen were not what you needed to get out of your funk. “I’ve put worse things in my body.”

“Girl, we...we’ll get through this.”

“Not like we have a lot of options, right?” You licked your lips and shook your head. “I’m fine, John. I slept. I’m better. I’m fine.”

“When are you gonna learn that it’s useless to lie to me?” John asked.

“I’m sure it’ll sink in eventually,” you responded, chuckling. “I promise...I’m going to be fine.”

“I know you will,” John said, reaching over to pat your knee.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few weeks passed and you were getting better at putting it behind you. The might’ve-beens dragged up by the Angels in Cincinnati were slowly being pushed back into the recesses of your mind and you were feeling better. Sam emailed John to tell him about some jerk in Ohio writing books about the boys’ lives, someone Castiel revealed to be a Prophet of the Lord who was writing The Winchester Gospels. There were books about the boys’ lives, their actions, their innermost thoughts, just hanging out on bookshelves around the world. You wondered if you were in any of the stories, the gospels.

John’s secondary cell phone went off as you pulled the truck into the parking lot of a coffee shop and he frowned as he looked down at the screen before he answered, “Hello?” A beat of time as you parked the truck and turned to him. “He’s not available. Can I help you?” He had a severe look on his face and you shook your head at him, confused by his reaction to the call. “What’d you say your name was? Milligan...and, uh, what are you callin’ John for?”

He made a fist and hammered it into his forehead. “Right, well, uh, I hate to have to tell you this over the phone but John is dead. He died in 2001.” Your eyes went wide and John put a finger up to quiet you before you could even start to question. “If you need help, then I can meet with you, kid. I’m, uh, John Winchester’s son, Dean. Windom, Minnesota. Cousin Oliver Café. We’ll be there tomorrow at 8am. See ya then, kid.”

“What the fuck, John?!” you exclaimed when he ended the call.

“Fuck.” He scratches his fingernails across his forehead and sighs as he sets the phone on the dash. “I recognized the area code, knew it was Missouri, thought it might have something to do with...with this case I had around January 1990. Anybody I interacted with back then, they would’ve known me before I got hit with that hex. So, that’s why I answered the phone like that and I’m glad I did because...because the kid on the other end of the phone is…” He trailed off and you gave him a pointed look.

“The kid on the other end of the phone is what?”

“My youngest son, Adam.”

Your eyes went wide, confusion and anger filling your body. “Your what?”

“I told you...I told you that I had one dalliance before you after Mary died, remember? When I was on that ghoul hunt and I went into rut and I-I was almost feral and I had one night where I couldn’t fuckin’ control myself and-”

“You knocked her up with pups?” you whispered. For some reason, it hurt a lot more than it should, especially considering you were only seven years old at the time.

“Only one. Adam.” He shook his head at himself. “She never told me. I didn’t know anything about it until 2001...and by then…by the time Adam called the first time, I was a young man again. I couldn’t show up looking like a twenty-five year old and start a relationship with the boy. So I just never called him back, kinda put him on the back burner. I figured I’d go see him when we found the witch and fixed me but I never found the witch and-”

“So, why’s he calling again now?” you asked, trying to be understanding. It wasn’t John’s fault. He should have told you. He should have told his other sons, but he couldn’t do anything about it now.

“His mom, Kate, is missing.”

“And he called you because?” you asked.

“Because the cops aren’t worried and his mom told him to try to get a hold of me if anything weird ever happened. She knew about the hunting.”

“So, your plan is to...pretend to be your oldest son and go meet your youngest son for the first time and try to find his missing mother...who most probably is just normal-missing, not supernatural-missing?” you asked, cautious of your tone.

“I can drop you somewhere if you don’t wanna participate in this, girl,” he said, biting his bottom lip.

“No,” you responded vehemently. “You don’t get to leave me behind, Winchester. Not ever again, remember?”

“Okay, then I’m gonna need you to back me on this and you’re going to have to call me ‘Dean’.”

You nodded. “I can do that.” You weren’t sure you wanted to, but you’d do it for him.

“Thank you, darlin’.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John was nervous. You could smell it in his scent. You leaned into his shoulder as you sat in the booth, trying to calm him with your own scent. You kept your head on his shoulder as he switched a glass of water out with a glass of holy water and set a trio of silverware on the opposite side of the table. “Just in case.”

“You really think-”

“I looked into him, ya know? Kid did real good without me in his life,” John said suddenly. “He’s real and he’s smart and he never had anything to do with this life. I’m scared it bled onto him anyway.”

You sighed and leaned up to press a kiss to his temple as the door opened and a tall, thin young man walked into the diner. He looked like a mix of Sam and Dean. “That’s him,” you whispered, recognizing him from the Facebook profile.

John, or rather ‘Dean’, stood and waved at the boy.

“Dean?” Adam asked, walking over. John nodded. The boy laughed. “Wow, you look just like the picture my mom had of-of John. You’re almost the spitting image of him.” He let out a scoff as he sat down, his eyes moving to you. “Who’s this?”

“My omega,” John said, a bit defensively.

“Y/n,” you said, offering your hand to him.

Adam took it with a smile. “Wow.”

You felt a cringe move through your body and you looked down. “What?”

“I just…” Adam cleared his throat. “There’s not a lot of omegas in Windom and none are as pretty as you.”

Another Winchester flirting with you was sending all sorts of bad signals through your body. You softly tugged your hand back and sat back down as Adam settled into the opposite side of the booth and picked up the water. You held your breath when he took a drink but the water went down easy so you relaxed a bit.

But not much.

He smelled wrong. John was lavender and orange and ylang ylang, Dean was lavender and honeysuckle and anise, Sam was vanilla and coffee and undercurrents of honeysuckle when he was in rut. Adam smelled like dirt.

Not grass and forest and mossy logs, dirt. Just dirt. He didn’t even have a secondary scent to him, no undercurrent or complementary smell. Just dirt.

There should have been some part of him that smelled like a Winchester, even if he wasn’t the same makeup of a Winchester as the ones you knew. He shouldn’t smell like that.

Adam didn’t seem to notice your musing or your deep breaths to try and find something else in his scent. He went off on a tangent as he ate his breakfast about how John and Kate met in the emergency room at the hospital room where she works and he went into rut after he got hurt and Adam tried to get a hold of John when he was a kid and John just never picked up the phone and he’s glad that ‘Dean’ answered the phone this time.

“At least I know why he didn’t answer when I was calling before. So, uh, what happened to John?”

“Heart attack,” John responded. “It was sudden.”

“Right, guess that makes sense. Heart disease is the number one killer of men his age in the US,” Adam said.

Your eyes focused on the silverware in the man’s fists. Not a shifter either then. But this was something. This was not a Winchester.

“Well, after we get done eating, why don’t you take us to the house and we’ll see if we can’t find something to tell us where your mom got to,” John offered.

“Thanks, Dean,” Adam said with a smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"He didn't react to silver or holy water," John argued as he followed Adam's car down the road.

"So? There's plenty of things that can alter people's perception of them that don't react to silver or holy water! Rakshasas, sirens, djinns, ghouls, do I need to go on?" you argued back. "He smells like dirt, John. That is not-"

"Maybe that's just-"

"What'd his mother smell like?" you interrupted.

"Passion fruit...and something else I can't remember."

"Not dirt. He shouldn't smell like that. He's not your son."

John sighed and scratched at his chin. "You might be right. He should smell more like one of us. He doesn't even smell like an alpha, honestly, but...if he's not Adam, then where the hell is Adam? And where's Kate? And why the fuck would whatever he is try to get me out here?"

"I don't know."

"Me either. For now, let's focus on finding Kate and we'll go from there." You held in a groan and focused out the windshield. "I know, 'mega. I'm just...I got this feeling...I lost my opportunity to be a part of this boy's life because of that witch."

"And that’s terrible, John...but you wouldn't have me if it wasn't for that witch so…"

“I’m not sayin’ I regret it, sweetheart, I just...wish I could have...met him once before I went after that bitch.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, biting your thumbnail. “Sometimes I wish things were different, too.”

“You wish I never came over when you were going into that first heat,” he guessed.

You swallowed, but you didn’t answer. The truth was, you had thought through a lot of different wishes and butterfly-effect ripples of how it would change everything. If John didn’t show up, you wouldn’t be a hunter. If Dean hadn’t pushed you to let Sam take you when those apple-pie assholes put you in heat, you would have just been Dean’s. If you never sold your soul for Dean, you might have been able to move on, find another alpha...a non-Winchester.

“I don't think I'd be myself if you hadn't shown up,” you answered eventually. “I'd have stayed stuck at Bobby's, never ended up with an alpha let alone two, and I would be dying from never getting a knot in a few years' time...it’s better you did.”

"I'm...glad I did, Y/n. I like the woman you are, the strong and beautiful omega you are.”

You smiled and your cheeks heated up at the praise. “Let’s just get this done, huh?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You weren’t exactly happy that you were the one who had to crawl through the vents but Adam said, and John fucking agreed, that you were smallest and therefor the best choice. When you found the blood and pieces of skull and blond hair, you were happy to be small enough to pull your phone out of your pocket and text the news to John so he could break the news before you crawled back out.

“Call the cops. We gotta get out of here, though,” John said as he offered you a hand to help you up out of the vent.

“Wait, but-” Adam started to argue.

“We don’t mix with cops,” you responded, before stomping away from them, roughly brushing dust off of your jeans and shirt. “Come on, J-Dean. Let’s get out of here.”

“You don’t mix with-” Adam started to argue, but you pushed past him and stomped out to John’s truck.

“There was no surprise in his scent. There was no anger or sadness. I’ve lost both parents, John, there should have been-”

“Maybe he’s numb or-”

“Maybe he’s made of dirt or something!” you snapped. “That is not-”

“He hasn’t done anything wrong yet, ‘mega.”

You shook your head. “Yeah. Yet. You know what, John? I’m gonna go ahead and look into things that could be pretending to be your illegitimate pup.”

You barely looked at him as you got out of the truck and headed inside to start researching. When Adam showed up to find out what was going on with his missing mother and you and ‘Dean’ leaving before the cops showed up and “what the hell?!” John decided to explain about hunting as simply as he could. He didn’t explain who he really was, though. And then John decided to take Adam to explore other options of finding Kate.

It was a couple hours later that you came across a mention in an online lore forum that said ghouls, while normally scavengers who feast on dead flesh, could actually eat living specimens and have been shown to greatly enjoy fresh human meat and blood...and just like feasting on the dead, the ghoul can take the visage of their victim and their memories.

“Didn’t John say that’s what he was after when he was here before?” you whispered to yourself as you picked up your cell phone and dialed John’s number. It rang through until it went to voicemail. You called again. It went to voicemail again.

Panic fell over you. Your alpha was in trouble. Your alpha was in trouble and you had no idea where he was.

“Fuck!” You were almost shaking as you stood up and looked around aimlessly. What could you do? Another string of expletives fell from your mouth before you forced yourself to focus. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. Your soul was connected to him. You needed to find him.

It only took a flash. A flash of the dining room at Kate’s house, John tied to the table had you grabbing the keys to John’s truck and rushing for your alpha. You pushed that truck as fast as it would go to get it to the house on the outskirts of Windom. The truck tires screeched as you slid to a stop in the front yard. You grabbed your shotgun from the rack in the truck bed and ran into the house.

John was tied to the table, ‘Adam’ and ‘Kate’ standing over him as he bled from his wrists. “Y/n,” he groaned. “They’re ghouls!”

“I know!” you snapped, aiming at Adam’s head and shooting. Parts of his head exploded onto the wall behind him and Kate shrieked before running at you. You moved to pump the shotgun for a second shot, but Kate grabbed you and tossed you into the wall like you were nothing.

“Y/n!”

“I’m fine, John!” you shouted, rolling onto your hands and knees.

“John?” Kate spat out, her tone dripping with poison.

“Forgot to mention before you started draining me,” John groaned. “I’m the one who killed your daddy, sweetheart.”

“Witches are better than plastic surgery, bitch,” you said, sweeping the woman’s leg with your foot. She fell to the floor and you jumped up, grabbing the shotgun and shooting her in the head, too. You licked your lips and panted as you limped over to the table and pulled out a knife, getting him loose from his binds. “You okay?” you asked, grabbing a rag and ripping it in half, wrapping each half around his wounds.

“Yeah. You...you got here in time.” He sat up, his legs hanging off the table as you secured the wraps around his wrists. “How’d you know?”

“I figured out ghouls could eat fresh and then I couldn’t get you on the phone and...I…” You licked your lips. “I knew where to find you.”

“How?” he pressed.

“How’d you know what motel room I was cutting Sam’s mark off of me?” you asked in answer.

“You felt it?” he asked and you nodded. He reached out, barely wincing at the pull on his wrist, and pulled you in for a soft, sad kiss. “They were siblings, kids of the ghoul I took down last time I was in Windom. They called to get revenge for me killing their dad.” He looked away. “Killed Kate and Adam to get revenge first. I was hoping I wasn’t right about my life bleeding on his.”

“It’s not your fault, John,” you whispered.

He shook his head. “I know. Shoulda stuck around to see if the thing left behind little monsters for me to kill, but...I went into rut...and then I had to get back to the boys.”

“John...it’s really not on you.”

“He’s dead because of me.”

“He was alive because of you,” you insisted. “He had nineteen years before these things...he had nineteen years because of you. Please, don’t let this get to you.” You chuckled, ruefully. “I’m the one that’s supposed to be barely floating in an ocean of shit. You’re supposed to be my life raft.”

He smiled and nodded. “I am. I am your life raft, darlin’. Just...a little blood-deprived right now. I’ll perk up after a glass of O.J. and some protein. Come on. Let’s get outta here.”

You nodded and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, helping him off of the table and walking him out to the truck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[inkdemonapologist]

Okay but I do actually want to know both the things you love and the things you could rant about from DCTL?

OH BOY UHHHHHH okay lets see, I'm gonna see if I can do the "add a readmore after you post it" thing and see if that'll keep it stable.......

But also, much like Sammy, I am incapable of shutting up unless you strike me in the head with a blunt object, so uh, forgive my wordiness:

THINGS I ENJOY:

- DCTL gave us Sammy's ink addiction and like, if you had asked me before all this "what would you most like to see in a franchise?" I would not have answered "one of the characters drinks ink accidentally and then discovers that he can't stop" but boy that sure is my favourite concept that I LOVE to see handled literally any other way than how the book handled it!!!

- I like what it added to Tom and Allison and Norman!! Like, it's not big twists on their characters or anything -- we already knew Tom felt he was doing the wrong thing, so getting to see his CRUSHING GUILT over creating the machine isn't New Information, but it's nice to see and understand more of him; for all of them I feel a lot more attached to them after getting to see more of them as people.

- Like 90% of the "I LOVE IT" category for me is how the book handled Joey, and Buddy's relationship with Joey. The way Joey isn't a Sinister Mastermind Who’s Just Screwing With Everyone but just manipulative in a more mundane way -- someone who thinks of himself as just the guy with the vision to call the shots; he wants what he wants and this is how he's learned to get it; he exploits people not through devious schemes, but just by offering them something that they want or need and asking too much in return, expecting their loyalty for his favours. And the way he interacts with Buddy, making Buddy complicit with him and keeping Buddy off-balance and insecure while making him a favourite and treating him as Special is just PERFECT --  gives a lot of content to kind of extrapolate off of when pondering what must've drawn the others in and convinced them to ignore the red flags. I was initially frustrated with the idea of Buddy not being an artist and jUST DECIDING TO LEARN TO ANIMATE ON THE SPOT ("I've never done this before but I'm sure I can just do an artist's job" is a weirdly common throwaway thing in media and as an artist iTS A PET PEEVE) but actually the way they use his plagiarism to make him trapped in a lie in ways Joey doesn't even realise ends up being a neat echo of other employees (coughTOMcough), who were involved in much graver sins but suddenly felt they couldn't object or they'd lose their one chance, just like Buddy. There's a lot here that I think is really great.

OKAY THATS THE GOOD STUFF, LET'S COMPLAIN ABOUT SAMMY:

- Uncomfortable Bigotry Vagueness that we all knew was gonna be in this list -- I dunno man, a guy committing a microaggression and getting startled and defensive when he's called out for it doesn't necessarily completely ruin his character I GUESS, but the way this was handled is just SO WEIRD AND VAGUE that it's uncomfortable and it doesn't seem to serve any real purpose. "Is Tom black?" is a question I actually have to ask because the text sort of implies he is while also dancing around it and apparently Word of God said he's not??? which makes Buddy's comment nonsensical???? And I mean, you could go that route, since Buddy wonders to himself if Sammy talks to everyone like this -- HE ACTUALLY DOES!! Even within the text of the novel, he uses "Joey" instead of Mr. Drew, which is consistent with his audiologs in the game -- but that makes the writing suggest "this character THINKS this guy might be racist but actually they're reading too much into it and it wasn't racially motivated at all, he's just a jerk!!" wHICH IS SOMEHOW EVEN MORE ICKY??? Anyway like yeah I guess it's not inconsistent with his character that while Sammy Lawrence may not have any specific grudge against minorities he has probably not checked his privilege or done the work to challenge his own internal biases, but “Your Fav Probably Contributes To Systemic Racism In Ways He Hasn’t Considered, As Do We All When Our Assumptions Go Unchecked” is still a wild thing to wade through in a fun story about demonic cartoons

- but yknow so is T H E   H O L O C A U S T

- Sammy's voice is wrong. I'm actually okay with him being a weird awkward asshole, I already kind of assumed he was and that's part of why I like him!! but there's so many places he doesn't quite... talk like himself? And not just in terms of word choice, like -- so in his monologue at the end, he's described as talking so quickly that his words are "tumbling out faster than he can speak them," which initially seems fine; like yeah, that's a Standard Scene we're familiar with, the person who's been Driven Mad With Insight becoming more and more manic as they try to convey it -- until I tried to imagine it and realised that Sammy doesn't talk like this. That's a really consistent quality I always notice about his voice; whether he's almost giddily excited in prophet mode, or he’s his irritated and overworked human self, or he's violently angry and his voice has that echo effect -- he always speaks very deliberately. He enunciates carefully. There's some circumstances where I'd buy this as showing that he's Not Himself, but I feel like those would kind of need to be in the middle of his transformation, not at the end of it.

- In fact a lot of the scenes with Sammy kind of have this feeling -- that it's not necessarily an exploration of Sammy as a character, but that he is filling a trope or archetype role here. Once he's fully transformed he excitedly describes the process as more of a mental compulsion, which is in contrast to his weird yeerk-infected behaviour when trying to get ink from Miss Lambert. Both of those scenes don't seem wrong on their own because they fit tropes we know -- but they feel weird when you try to fit them together.

- I also just in general am not a fan of the ink acting like a weird yeerk. It can be a parasite I guess but when it starts overwriting and puppeting people and crawling around to enter their body that's just a completely DIFFERENT kind of supernatural story and it’s not what im here for!!!

- THE FREAKIN!!! HE WILL SET US FREE!!!! WHY????????? SAMUEL LAWRENCE WHAT IS HE SETTING YOU FREE FROM??????? Sammy has No Motive for any of what he's doing, other than just Ink Made Me Do It. The whole thing that was INTERESTING about Sammy as a character is the contrast between this frustrated, ornery musician with no specific love for the cartoons he works on, and the manically devoted cultist he becomes. What happened in the middle there? What made him desperate enough to shift his mindset so much? "Something supernatural made him do things that don't benefit him in any way" is a very boring answer to this question!!! Susie was a victim who implies that her transformation has forced her to do things she didn't want to do, but we can still see her motive -- she wanted to be Alice, so she took a sketchy offer to try to get what she wanted. Even now, her violence echoes that goal -- to be a more perfect Alice. What did Sammy want? WHO KNOWS. Even in his ink-addled state at the end, we don't understand what he hopes the Ink Demon will even do for him, and in fact he seems to be responsible for creating the very scenario he's begging Bendy to reverse in the game.

- [sighs loudly into my hands]

- Overall I'm left wondering if the author just..... didn't like Sammy Lawrence? And I don't mean that in the sense of him being a rude jerk -- like, Joey is not a good person, but the author seems to be interested in him and in what makes him tick. There doesn't seem to be that same interest in Sammy. Sammy's role in the story is that of a monster, transformed into something murderous, unable to prevent or choose it. He's not a victim of anyone but the ink, no one had to manipulate him or figure out how his brain worked or what he wanted or what he feared or give him any reason to do the things he does -- ink got in his mouth and overwrote his personality. And we don't even get to see that change, not really. He starts out angry and defensive and continues being angry and defensive up until his very last scene, denying his ink-stealing but not really much else. We see all his prophetic sketches but we never see hints of this in him, we never see him start to act more excited and hopeful, we never see him seek out the demon he desires to please. Why do we never see Sammy struggling between his dismissive angry front and a building religious fervour he can't quite suppress? We don't get to see any of the in-between. There's no interest at all in why or even what it looked like as Sammy became what he became, when, to be honest, I suspect interest in precisely that is one reason he's such a big fav.

- It's funny, in a "cries into my hands" kind of way, when Sammy is just knocked in the head while monologuing and immediately removed from the story without further mention, like...... that sure is the pattern with him, isn't it, he just tries very very hard and never actually gets to matter, but it also fits right in here, too, in this book that doesn't want to think about his motives -- he rambles nonsensically, explaining nothing, gets one trademark phrase, and then is hastily removed so the story doesn't have to think about him anymore.

...................I think that's most of it.

...

Y'all............ I'm not ready for Sent From Above.......... I'm just not.... I'm not emotionally ready...... like..... Sammy has to be in that right..... he’s Susie’s boss and she has that big crush on him..................................... I’m not ready

[srprincess]

Guess what!?! It’s Fictober time again! So – new prompts, but I’m still out here (making an attempt at) finishing my same old fic.

Prompt 1 – “No, come back!” // fandom – omgcp // fic rating – T for language reasons

Notes: This is actually chapter 19 of the Spookydoo AU I started last fictober. I can’t believe it’s been an entire year. I guess months worth of pandemic related block and a cross country move will tend to slow these sorts of things down, but, yeah – a year. Wow. Back at the start I had thought this was going to be a quick month long project, but here we are! If you’re still following me from way back then, here’s the long promised update. If you’re new this will make NO SENSE without the rest of the story - and honestly only minimal sense after - so I’ll drop a link to the rest of the story on Ao3 in the replies (since tumblr hates links)

---

“Are you sure I don't need to head back and get them?” Will asked, for the third time.

“Nah, they’re resourceful. Quit worrying,” Nursey told him, also for the third time. At least. Maybe he had asked a few too many times.

He, Nursey, Shitty and Lardo were gathered back around the table in his kitchen, while Sammy sat at the edge of the doorway leading into the mudroom, happily chewing on a length of rope that Will had knotted up for her. He didn't have much to offer in the way of snacks while they waited, but he’d managed to scrounge up a bag of not quite stale pretzels and some cold sodas. Not the best spread, but good enough he didn't think his mom’s memory would judge him too harshly under the circumstances. Said circumstances being that these particular guests and their friends had basically wiped out his pantry over the course of their previous visits.

They were waiting, with varying levels of patience, for Holster and Ransom to show up with their lunches, and - maybe more importantly, it depended on who you asked - to tell them what they'd found out about Lou’s place. Or rather the house that she had been...haunting? It was still hard for Will to think about it that way, about his longtime friend being a ghost, but, well, could he deny it anymore? Honestly? It was strange, but if she was a ghost - which she was - and had been staying in and around the house - which she had - what else could you call it other than a haunting? At any rate, finding out the property had been sitting vacant might have explained how it could have had a ghost-in-residence for so long without attracting too much attention, but it opened up a whole other set of questions. Who would leave a house on the water empty for years? Sure, it needed some upkeep, but still, it was a nice enough place in a great spot. Where were the owners? Why hadn’t they been trying harder to sell it? Or failing that, using the property themselves? He also wanted to know more about how Lou had ended up connected to the property, but that was going to have to come from her and not a simple property search. Unfortunately, she hadn't seemed any too eager to talk about her final days when he and Nursey had talked to her earlier.

After his stomach grumbled, Nursey checked the time, again, and sighed.

“I said I could head back in for them,” Will pointed out. “It’s not an issue-”

“Might be a while, but I’m sure they're on the way,” Shitty assured him. “I think they were looking for an excuse to rent that bike, and a ride’ll take them a minute.”

“Not the tandem!” Lardo shook her head, “I thought we talked them out of that.”

“Yes, the tandem, and you tried to talk them out of it. I, on the other hand, might have offered to pay the fee as long as they took pictures.”

“They'll never make it here in one piece on that thing.”

“Oh, ye of little stature and faith, they are perfectly synced. They'll make it fine.”

“Whatever. Then why did you want pictures, hmmm? A 20 says they'll crash and burn at least once.”

“Hopefully they don’t fall on my sandwich,” Nursey muttered under his breath.

“Because Jack can't be the only one with pictures of these trips, that’s why. So, deal?”

“Deal.” Shitty and Lardo were just shaking on the bet when the sound of tires on the rocks outside was followed by a knock at the door. They all turned to look at Will, who looked blankly back before it clicked -

“Oh. Yeah. My house. My door. Best be getting that.” He rushed to the answer, more to hide his blush than out of a hurry to let the two in.

He opened the door to the double whirlwind that was Ransom and Holster pushing through, arms loaded with bags.

 Shitty took one look at them before holding his hand out to Lardo. “All in one piece. Well, two pieces. As expected. Pay up.”

“Not so fast,” she told him, attempting to shove his hand away before turning to them. “How did you manage to carry all of that on a bike?”

“No bike,” Ransom told her.

“It was already rented,” Holster added.

“Ha!” She slapped Shitty’s hand down. “No payday for you.”

“You neither,” he pointed out.

“Hmmm. I still say you owe me ten,” Lardo argued.

“The hell I do,” Shitty scoffed back.

“But if they would have ridden the bike they would have fallen, and you know it.”

“Says you. Wrongly.”

“My. What an excellent defense. I can see why you're the high-powered attorney here.” Lardo pulled a face at him before stating her case, “If they had tried to ride that bike they likely would have fallen. If they tried to ride it while holding all those bags, they for sure would have. I see no possible way that they would have made it here safely, and so I still deserve half the original bet winnings.”

 “Incorrect,” Shitty took a final sip of his drink and a deep breath before standing. Full attorney mode. “First, both these fine individuals have a history of athletic excellence in a sport known for quick moves requiring great balance skills, coordination and teamwork,” he counted off each point in his hands. “Second, they've been known to safely carry much more than a few bags of food, over unfamiliar terrain, in the dark-”

“Well, I did fall on Rans that one time we-”

Shitty hushed Holster before continuing, “Shhh - You aren't helping the case.”

“Why are we even on trial?” Ransom asked, confused. “Anyways, I remember that. Kind of. You only almost fell, bro, and we were hella fucked up that night.”

“You,” Shitty pointed to Ransom, “are helping. Thank you. As I had said - teamwork. While, errr, shall we say inebriated? They were able to use teamwork to accomplish their goals. Mostly safely. Sober, and in the clear light of day, making it here safely would have been no problem. Thirdly, if the bet had been that they `likely’ would have fallen off the bike with their arms full, I allow that you might have won. Unfortunately, for you, it wasn’t and so you didn’t. In closing, your point is dismissed for being unprovable. Case closed. The End.” He, smugly, picked his cup back up to drain the drink.

“You can't just close the case yourself-” Lardo argued.

“And yet, I have,” Shitty shrugged.

She growled under her breath, “this isn't over,” Lardo pointed at him before asking Ransom and Holster, “So, no bike? How did you get here?”

 Will, who had been watching like the exchange like it was the most interesting show he’d seen in years, and, let’s be real, with television as spotty as it was out there it kind of was, turned to them, curious himself to hear the answer.

Nursey, who had been enjoying watching Will watch the others, said, “Probably an Uber.”

“No Uber round these parts.”

“Fine, Lyft, whatever.”

“Nope, don’t have those either,” Will told him. “We do have a Martha, but there’s no way that’s how they got here.”

“What’s a Martha?” Nursey asked.

“She calls herself a taxi service, but truthfully she’s just a busybody who got herself a fair reliable rig and a business license. Let’s her keep up on who’s new around, see what they're about and then give them a mandatory tour of her favorite places. Takes her forever to get anywhere. Guaranteed it would have taken them at least another hour to get out here with her.”

“An hour!? How is this town even big enough to take that long?”

“Well, if you drop her a ’tip’ she's sure to add your place on the route, yeah? Bunch of shops do every year. That's a lot of side roads and loops. Now me? I throw her some money every season to miss The Light entirely. She would have tried stalling and distracting them as long as possible before heading this way.”

 “So, don’t take ’a Martha’, noted for future.” Ransom cut in.

“We didn't need to anyway,” Holster told the group. “Did you know, if you order food for delivery, you can get yourself delivered along with it?”

“That's not a-” Nursey started to argue before looking to Will for confirmation. “Is that a thing?”

“No. Definitely not a thing.”

Holster gestured at the bags and then at himself and Ransom, “I do believe it is.”

Will frowned, confused, “You know what...I don’t even think they do delivery at all. Outside of town, leastways.”

“You’d be amazed how far friendliness and a smile can get you,” Holster said, flashing a near alarming display of teeth.

“Maybe you should try that sometime, Poindexter,” Nursey joked.

“Ha fucking ha,” Will said, flashing a smile that veered more towards frightening than not.

“Hope you tipped well,” Shitty told Holster, ignoring the shoulder shoving across the table.

“Pfft, of course dude.”

“Good, then. Now, important business, where’s my sammie?”

A whine came from the doorway.

“Sorry, I meant my sandwich, not you Sammy,” Shitty turned to tell the dog. She sniffed in their direction, clearly looking for attention in the form of food of her own but not wanting to leave her new rope unattended. “But, yeah, her food, where’s it at? Guys?”

But he’d lost the attention of Ransom and Holster. With a nudge and a head tilt to where Nursey’s ankle was practically hooked around Will’s, Ransom smirked at Holster, who in turn sighed and pulled some money out of his pocket to hand it over.

Nursery watched the exchange before he narrowed his eyes. “And what’s this about?”

“What?”

“The money?”

“That? He owed me for the, umm, dog dishes.”

“Yeah, sure he did.”

“Right, Holtzy?”

“Absolutely, the dishes. We were going halfsies. Because, uh, gift?”

Ransom scrunched his face up before he mouthed ’gift, really?’ back at him, but Holster just gave a small shrug.

Nursey still looked doubtful and Shitty, who had given up waiting and was rooting through the bags for himself, distracted them when he asked “Well, where are they?

“Where are what?” Ransom asked.

“The. Dog. Dishes.” he answered slowly and deliberately.

“Shit. Fuck. Damn. I, uh, forgot them?”

“Uh-huh,” Nursey shook his head. “You forgot to bring the dishes. That you just bought. As a gift. Suuuure.”

“Don’t worry about it. So long as you brought the food, I can find something to put it in.” Will got up and dug through a cupboard by the sink that was little more than a jumble of used butter tubs and came up with two bowls.

 One bowl he filled with water and set in front of the dog. The other he handed them to Lardo who filled it with some of the food Shitty had found in the bags, leading to a very happy Sammy, who flopped on top of the rope before digging in with enthusiastic messiness.

“Isn’t that uncomfortable? And look at that-” Nursey pointed out the puddles and food pieces spread all around the dog.

“It’s fine,” Will waved him off.

“What about your precious floor? All I did was drip on it the other night and-”

“Oh, let her be. Unlike people, she can’t help it if she makes a silly little mess.” Will ruffled the fur on top of her head. “Besides, she’s a good girl, aren't you Sammy,” Sammy wiggled at the good girl comment and went back to happily working to empty her bowl. Dog mess was fine, Will told himself, nothing he couldn’t clean up later. He wondered if maybe he should consider a dog of his own. The company might be nice. He shrugged off the thought for later and went to wash his hands before grabbing a stack of plates to take to the table.

 All business of bets and money exchanges temporarily forgotten, the gang worked as one to pass around the lunches.

A giant sub was split between Lardo and Shitty. She flicked an olive that had stayed to her half at him, which he easily caught with his mouth before flicking a pepper back towards her. When he went to grab a drink, she swiped another pepper and one of his tomato slices too. Ransom passed her his pickle spears, and she gave him half her lettuce. Holster split his bag of BBQ chips and the salt and vinegar ones in front of Ransom between them 50-50. Okay, maybe 60-40. But neither complained. Instead of being split up, a large bag of fries was just torn open and left for each to pick from as they wanted. Ketchup squeezed out onto one of the wrappers that had previously held a wrap. All the exchanges spoke to the habits of friends who’d shared a meal many times over. Will eyed the onions that Nursey picked off his sandwich, wanting them. Even though no one else had made a move for them, he wasn’t quite brave enough to push his way into their rituals. No matter, because as soon as the look was noticed, he found them deposited on the side of his own plate. Happily piling them on his own sandwich he spared a slice of bacon back, but just one. He wasn’t that generous.

Will had originally thought they had brought back too much food not realizing some of the others had gone, but the reason for the pile of random extra sandwiches dropped in the middle of the table became clear as each was picked apart and passed around until everyone was full.

 As the last scraps of their meal were being cleared away Ransom spoke up, “So, I got in touch with that realtor,” he told them. “The property is up for sale. Technically. Has been for a while.”

“What do you mean, technically? Then why isn't it listed anywhere? Being shown?” Will asked.

“Well, that's the thing. Apparently, they tried? But the seller wasn’t very motivated and only interest at the price was for a package deal.”

“A package-” Will paused and frowned. “Wait. What was the realtor’s name again?”

When Ransom told him, Will’s face clouded over and a hint of rage built up at the set of his jaw.

“So, I take it you do know him. He said you'd, hmmm, spoken? Before.” Ransom filled in the others, “There’d been a big deal in the works with a developer, but they wanted this whole area or no deal.”

 “Yeah. Those assholes. Not likely to forget them. Wanted to turn this place into some ridiculous restaurant.”

“Waterfront restaurants can be nice,” Holster tried to play devil’s advocate, “a good draw for the area.”

Will was having none of it. “My grandfather and father both would roll over in their graves if they knew I sold this place. After all the work they put in on the updates? Especially to some stiff from away. All so someone could open a restaurant we probably wouldn't even be able to afford to eat in? No way. No how. I think not.”

Shitty agreed, “I get it, yeah. People like that’ll suck the soul out of a place to make a buck. Fuck ’em.”

They’d only met recently, and it was hard for Will to tell if Shitty was motivated to agree with him in an attempt to stay on his good side, because he actually did agree or just because he couldn't resist joining in on a potential argument. In any case, fueled by the agreement, Will’s knew he was headed into full ’soapbox mode’ but couldn't help himself. “It’s the developers ruining towns like this all up and down the coast,” his voice rose and his arms flailed as he got more worked up. “For years we’ve helped our own. Didn't need anything from anyone other than basic neighborliness. Share and share alike, and everyone makes it just fine. Then some upstart comes in with his fancy ideas and a pile of money and, and, we’re supposed to sell up and then what? Go where? Do what-”

Holster, who seemed to have finally realized what can of worms he opened up, tried to back it up, “I didn't mean- not your place. Just, like, in general? Attractions, well, attract. But you're here, using the place. There's open land out there and they shouldn’t-”

Will steamrolled on, “-always say they want the authentic experience getaway but that’s not what they're really after. What they really mean is some bland cookie cutter experience that’ll get copied at every seaside town. So they can do the same things and share the same photos as everyone else. Nothing is genuine anymore. Where’s the originality of that? If they have their way every place will be the same as the next. Whatever happened to-”

Ransom held up a hand before interrupting, “Dex is right about that. It does seem to be what they were after here.”

Will grumbled out an “Obviously” but other than that let the other man continue speaking.

 “This particular buyer wanted everything from the lane out to the water. All the lots. They’d had plans to turn this place into a restaurant, private outdoor seating at the top. The couple houses as you’re coming out this way redone and connected by a huge kitchen in the middle to make a big bed and breakfast or inn type situation. And then uh,” Ransom paused, “well, your friend's house? That was going to be turned into a gift shop. Upscale souvenirs they told him. But, without adding the rest, there wouldn't have been the traffic to support a shop. So - all or nothing.”

“There was, and is, no way I'm selling up and moving out,” Will shoved himself back from the table angrily.

“Hey, I’m not saying you should,” Ransom held up his hands. “Just passing on what he said. Pretty sure he knows that now.”

“Why do ya say that? I mean, good, but why?”

“He described you as - now keep in mind this is coming from him, and not me. I think you're great, and so don’t-”

“Spit it out.”

“he-called-you-the-lighthouse-lunatic,” came the quickly murmured answer.

“He what?!” Will yelled.

“Come on man, don't make me say it again,” Ransom said with a wince.

“He called me - Well that's - that’s rude is what it is. Imagine invading a man’s home, after he’s - then you're going to call him names? Rude. Even more glad I didn't sell. Lunatic,” Will huffed.

“I wouldn't call you a lunatic,” Holster said, as the others added their agreement. “You do get...excited, but no.”

“At the risk of getting you all, you know,” Nursey gestured vaguely at Will before scooting himself back to a safe distance and continuing, “I’m just saying, coming from a person you tried to forcibly eject days ago, is it completely inaccurate?”

“Yes!”

“Is it though?”

“I will throw you back into the ocean with my bare hands. Right now. Let’s go.”

 Nursey offered back a weak smile to show he was kidding, mostly, and the rest started to throw out other words in Will’s defense.

“Not lunatic.”

“No, of course not.”

“Excitable?”

“Touchy, edgy?”

“Nah, opinionated?”

“And, fiercely determined”

“Oh, good one.”

“And hermit like?”

“That’s territorial.”

 A woman’s voice from the other side of the room said, “he’s enthusiastically defensive.”

Nursey snaps his fingers. “Exactly!”

“Enthusiastically defensive,” Will repeated before turning and nodding in the direction of Lou, who had appeared over by the sink. “I can accept that.”

She smiled before disappearing again.

 “Okay, so, big picture-” Nursey tried to take control of the conversation, “it boils down to, without Dexy’s place here, the whole deal was off the table.”

“And other than that offer there wasn't any real interest,” Holster, who had listened in on Ransom’s call with the realtor, finished. “With no package deal, and the other house owners not willing to take the low offers coming in, he decided it wasn't worth coming all this way to show it to people who are never going to buy anyway. Without the potential sellers pushing him, he stopped promoting it. He’d almost forgotten about the listing himself because no one has ever checked up with him in the last few years. Said it was like the owners themselves had even forgotten about it.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, what he said, zombie property. But now back to THAT.” Ransom frantically waved his arms. “What the? Who the? Tell me you all heard that.”

“Uhhh well-” Will stalled.  

Ransom looked around at the rest of them, who were visibly trying not to react.

“Is no one going to mention the fucking ghost in the room?!” He shrieked. In a manly way. If you asked him, he would have called it a shout. A very high-pitched shout. That he made while pushing himself as close into the corner, behind the table, as he could.

“Oh, that’s - Lou?”

“Yes, Derek?” she answered from over his shoulder.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to call you, I was just telling him - but since you’re here-”

“Your friends seem a little troubled.”

Will snorted.

Most of them were only staring, quiet, and more than a bit shocked, but remarkable not freaking out. At least not externally. But Ransom - well, his face was doing its best fish impression and - try as he might - he couldn't manage to force another word out.

Holster tried to help by giving him a slap on the back and he managed to eke out the words `girl’ and `ghost’ before slipping under the table.

“Is he...okay?” she asked.

“Eh-” Lardo said, tilting her hand side to side.

“Not really.” Holster reached under the table and gave a supportive shoulder squeeze.

“Hi,” was all Shitty got out.

“Maybe I should go,” Lou said, slowly fading.

“Hi?” Shitty asked.

Will thought it was weird to see her fading, when he’d already found himself getting used to her quickly blipping in and out. Then he realized how weird it was he found himself getting used to anything at all to do with this situation.

“No, come back!” they all yelled. Well, all minus Ransom. He whimpered unintelligibly from his hiding place.

Lou faded back in, “are you sure?”

“Hi.” Shitty repeated, prompting a choked back laugh from Lardo.

“I think he means yes,” Will told her. “Stay a while.”

[jerkbitchidjitassbutt]

What Mattered Most

Characters: Dean x Reader; Sam

Summary: Dean wakes to find she’s gone. What would make his best friend leave him? Sam may just know. 

A/n: This will be a mini-series of two to three parts, based on the song “What Mattered Most” by Ty Herndon. This has been rumbling around in my head for a while, so I finally committed to getting it down. As always, I’d be nowhere without the love and support of two amazing women: @winchester-writes​ and @our-jensen-ackles-love​. I love you both.

“Sammy!” Dean’s voice reverberated through the dim halls of the bunker, his heavy footsteps echoing with each stride he made towards the library, where he was sure he’d find his brother bent over another ancient text. “Have you seen Y/n?” he questioned sternly, a heavy line forming between his eyebrows.

“Not since last night.” Sam replied, somewhat nonchalantly, resting comfortably in his chair.

Dean flipped the small piece of paper held in his clenched fist onto the table, “This was under my door.”

Sam picked up the note and examined Y/n’s familiar handwriting.

I can’t do this anymore, Dean. I’m sorry.

-       Y/n

A short and contrite “Hmm” was all Sam offered before returning his attention to the scripture in his lap.

“That’s it?” Dean barked angrily. “Y/n is gone and that’s all you have to say?”

Sam gave an exasperated sigh and shut his book, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the polished wooden table. “What do you want me to say, Dean? That I’m surprised she’s gone? Well, truth be told, I’m not.”

Dean’s brows knitted further together in confusion, “What do you mean you’re not surprised? Why would she just leave?”

“Dean…” his brother began gently, “How much attention have you been paying to Y/n lately? What do you know about her?”

“What the hell are you talking about, Sammy?” he said defensively, “She’s my best friend. I know everything about her!”

“I mean it, Dean!”

Dean began to pace, growing frustrated with the questioning coming from the other edge of the table, “I’ve memorized her every move... I know her better than anyone else.” He argued, beginning to count specifics on his extended fingers. “I know her books, her car, her clothes. She moved out West when she was two, her dad lives in Oregon, the first time she ran away it was to try to get to Disneyland.”

“Okay, sure. Past; got it.” Sam waved his hands in surrender before resting them at either side of his coffee cup. “But… Have you noticed anything different about her lately?”

Dean paused in his erratic steps, looking thoughtfully at Sam. “Well… no.” he replied shamefully, realizing that it had been a few weeks since he’d really talked to her. A bit of small talk, sure, but nothing like they used to do years ago.

Sam felt a bubble of slight anger in his chest. He knew his brother had the tendency to overlook the simplest of things sometimes—rarely, but it did happen, but he never thought he’d miss something this big. And now, he didn’t realize that Y/n leaving was his fault.

He took a sharp breath and leaned back in his chair, hands flying to the nape of his neck for support while the springs squeaked beneath him. “Do you have any idea what her dreams are? Her hopes for the future?”

Dean felt a wave of guilt wash over him as he rested his weight on the back of the chair in front of him, his knuckles turning white as his gripped away the feeling. The last real talk they had was a few years ago, right before the darkness tried to send the world into yet another apocalypse. They sat on Baby’s bumper, shared a beer, and complained about their lot in life. Nothing they hadn’t done before. Y/n mentioned leaving the life, settling down somewhere… away from monsters and all things that go bump in the night. Dean had almost laughed, thinking there wouldn’t ever be such a place, until he saw the forlorn look deep behind her gaze.

“She…” he swallowed, realizing suddenly that his mouth had ran dry. “She wanted to leave the life a few years ago. Settle down.”

“Uh huh.” Sam said knowingly. “And any idea who she wanted to do that with?” he asked with a stiff jaw and pursed lips, gazing up from where he still sat.

Dean’s eyes snapped to his brother’s sharply, a look of shock and confusion creating ever deepening ridges in his temple.

The look he received told Sam what he needed to know. “That’s what I thought.” When he saw Dean’s shoulders tense in anger, he talked him back down quickly, revealing the largest detail he’d seemed to miss. “Dean, Y/n’s been in love with you for years.” He said quietly.

“Sam, please.” Dean huffed.

“I’m not kidding, man. Think about everything you two have been through together. Your demon deal, purgatory, the mark… Now think about the last few years. You’ve been off, drinking away your sorrows either in a bar or in your room, going home with who knows who. Granted, you’ve toned it down since we were younger, but… she’s noticed every bit of it…” Sam continued, regretting the secrets he was about to share, “She noticed. And she cried… She cried every night, Dean. Didn’t you ever notice the pain in her eyes every time she looked at you? You didn’t have to to see how hurt she was!”

Dean felt his heart shatter beneath his chest. He’d never truly meant to hurt you. You were—are—his best friend. You always have been. He knew he’d been distant for a while, but he’d sort of shut himself off to everyone, even Sammy at times. He knew it took a toll on you and your friendship, but you’d always said you were still there for him. And you were. Every damn day. You’d still light up when he and Sam returned from a hunt, throw your arms around each of them with a bright smile and tell them you were happy they were home safe. He’d exchange some details of the hunt and let you patch him up before retreating to his room, playing his records to drown out the silence he’d created for himself. Now, the look in your eyes as his memories graced him with new sight was unmistakable. He’d say thank you for whatever bumps and bruises you’d taken care of, and watch as your smile faltered when he made his move to leave. The hits had just kept on coming for the last few years, and he turned himself into something that was different than the man you once knew. Now, he let himself revisit the years you’d shared and the ware it must’ve taken on you. When did it all turn into love for you? What moment could he try to go back to and fix whatever he’d broken?

Dean looked at his brother once more with wide eyes, whispering, “She… She never said.”

Sam shook his head and gave his brother a sympathetic glance, “You never paid enough attention to ask, Dean. You missed the signs. She dreamed her dreams outside your closed door… and that made them easy for you to ignore.” Sam thought of the nights he’d hear whimpers coming from your room after Dean had disappeared. He’d try to talk to you, but it wasn’t until a few months ago that you’d shared everything with him. If he was honest with himself, he knew this day was coming. You’d been showing more affection, hugs and small gestures towards Sam the last few weeks. It was like you were preparing to say goodbye. In a way, you had. He sighed, seeing his brother’s defeated stance and the hurt in his eyes, knowing he’d missed the forest for the trees. “Listen, there’s no doubt you know her—the little things. But cold hard facts won’t change her being gone or bring her back. You didn’t pay attention to what mattered most.”

Dean let himself drown in the things he wouldn’t have now that you weren’t there.

Your laughter. Your smile. Your love.

He couldn’t live without it. He knew he couldn’t live without you.

“Oh my God, what did I do?” he breathed, a panic and fear swelling his chest and making his heart race. He didn’t know where you were, but he knew he had to find you.

He swiped the keys to the Impala and began to race up the bunker’s staircase, pausing as his feet carried him to the fourth step. He turned to see Sam reaching for his book, “Hey, Sammy?’

“Yeah?” Sam asked, turning in his chair.

Dean felt the slight tingle of tears prick at the corners of his eyes, knowing that he had one chance—and Sam had saved him once again. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Sam shared a small nod and a hint of a nervous smile as he watched his brother race up the stairs, hoping he’d not lost you forever.

To be continued...

<Masterlist / Part 2>

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

Shackled - Ch 2

Summary: After nearly ten years, Sam Winchester calls Miriam Bard to collect on a life debt. Unfortunately for Miriam, Sam leaves out a few important details.

Warning: Implied loss of family, grieving, depression, cursing, Demon!Dean, Sam’s tendency to leave out vital details for folks helping him to save Dean (read: Sam’s tendency to be a Winchester), threats of violence, emotional manipulation, mind fuckery (expect LOTS of that in upcoming chapters)

Word count: 1597

Author’s Note: This story would not be possible without @thoughtslikeaminefield , who convinced me to write and finish this story, cheered me on every step of the way, and convinced me that even after over a year of not finishing a single thing, I hadn’t lost my writing after all. MJ, thank you for poking the story til it squeaked. And for the banner. And lots and lots of other things. Thanks also to @cracksinthewalls for checking my work. You make everything you touch better.

If you’re reading this, hi! Have a seat and strap in, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride (in the best way!).

In case you missed it:

Ch 1

Chapter 2

The wave of sheer malevolence that rolled over Miriam nearly knocked her from her feet, and she only just kept from throwing her arms up in defense.

Nothing was coming at her, no weapons, no attacks or enemies. But the sense that something in this room was absolutely wrong couldn’t be denied any more than she could deny the mental and physical effort she had to exert just to stay by Sam’s side.

Torn, she thought, eyes darting around the enclosure. She wanted to bolt from the room, from the whole bunker, find the furthest cave, and bury herself in it.

And yet...

Moment by moment, she had to fight the urge to walk straight over to the man bound to the chair not fifteen feet away, a chair she couldn't help but notice was bolted to the floor.

What the hell did she think she’d do when she got there, exactly? Where was this coming from?

Her stomach twisted as she forced herself to breathe normally, to ignore the flush rising through her skin, and really look around the newly revealed room.

Dungeon, her scattered mind projected. The Winchesters have a dungeon.

A massive devil's trap, much larger than any of the few she’d seen, was painted on the floor. The sigils were painted in black against the grayish white of the floor; detailed, huge, and precise, the mystical symbols couldn’t help but draw her gaze. She examined the lines for a long moment, studiously ignoring the one thing in the room she suddenly needed to look at.

“My eyes are up here, sweetheart.”

Dean Winchester had aged a little better than his brother, but he’d obviously weathered some tough times, as well. That his arms were both cuffed and tied to the chair in which he was sitting, his eyes blacked out in true demonic presence, did nothing to ease every instinct within Miriam that screamed for her to run.

Sure, Sam had said his brother was a demon, but…still. Dean Winchester, the Dean Winchester, an actual demon? That wasn’t a fact that could be conveyed through simple words.

“Gretel, it’s been too long. Where’s Hansel? Did a mean old witch toss him in an oven yet?”

The demon smirked at his wit, and Miriam felt her lips drawing back in an involuntary snarl, but Sam’s earlier words echoed in her head, and she throttled down the instinct to find a very swift end to this abomination. Nostrils flaring, she cracked her neck slowly to one side, then the other, closing her eyes for a two-count before opening them again.

Dean watched her, head cocked inquisitively, showing the first signs of real interest since she and Sam had walked in. His obsidian eyes narrowed as he gave her a thorough once over. His gaze lingered on her neck, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he took in the ruined skin, the pulse beating along the column of her throat. When he spoke again, his velvet tone throbbed in her veins, even as his words sent her stomach spiraling.

“Nah, I think the big bad wolf found you both. Ate up baby brother and started in on you for dessert. Bet he thought you were real sweet. Wouldn’t mind sinkin’ my teeth into that neck, either.”

Sam’s hand on her shoulder brought her back to herself, out of the rushing void. She blinked, cleared her throat, tasted blood.

When did I bite my cheek? she thought.

She shook her head like a dog shedding water, and suddenly she was back with herself. She glanced at Sam, looking for guidance on what to do next. Every hunter instinct she had screamed at her to drown Dean in a vat of holy water, or behead him at the very least. Anything to not look into those eyes again.

Those empty, black eyes that pulled when they should repel, that called to her to jump into the abyss rather than backing away from the precipice like any sane person should.

But Sam, the same man who didn’t hesitate to tackle the witch about to finish Aaron off as Dean set fire to the hex bag all those years ago, was frozen in place, his mouth a thin, painful line as his red eyes shone wetly under the harsh lighting. Then he cleared his throat and looked away from his brother as he arranged some flasks on the metal table nearby.

“Dean, I’ve gotta get some supplies for the ritual. It’ll take me a couple of days. Miriam is going to watch you, keep you...company. Then we’re gonna fix this.”

The harsh, gritty laugh that rumbled up from Dean’s chest was as amused as it was mocking.

“Are you still on that crusade, Sam? I don’t need a babysitter. Let me go, and we’ll just forget this whole brainless little scheme of yours. I don’t need fixing.” Dean grinned wider as his brother visibly flinched. “Ain’t broken, Sammy. Just improved.”

Sam’s lips pinched together hard, his eyebrows drawing down sharply, but he didn’t reply, instead turning his attention to Miriam.

“I know it sounds crazy, but we’ve figured out a way to cure demons. I can get my brother back, but it’s not gonna be easy. I have to go get the materials, some kind of specialized stuff, and it may take me a few days. I need your help; our other...friend is dealing with something and can’t get back here, and somebody has to watch Dean while I’m gone, just in case.”

Miriam glanced disbelievingly between the two brothers, one very obviously at the breaking point, if not well past it, and the other seemingly bored despite being chained down.

She took an unconscious step towards Dean before she could stop herself, then planted her feet hard. What the hell was that? she thought.

Dean eyed her speculatively for a moment, taking in her odd internal struggle. His nostrils flared briefly as he inhaled, and a smirk began to curl at the corner of his mouth.

“I think we need to talk in the hallway for a sec, Sam,” Miriam said, her lips pressed into a thin, tense line.

Sam huffed out a breath, and Miriam could see he was relieved she wasn’t outright refusing. As he led the way back to the hall, she glanced at Dean. He’d reverted to his natural appearance; warm, clear green eyes sparkled across the room as he winked at her.

“See ya soon, sweetheart.”

She shuddered and hurried after Sam.

The air in the hallway was by no means the fresh air she’d prefer, but it was bracing and clear after the tense, conflicting atmosphere she’d left behind. She took a moment to gather herself, to get her overwhelmed thoughts into some sort of order. Before she could find her words, though, Sam broke the silence with the last thing she expected or wanted to hear right now.

“I heard about Aaron. I’m so sorry, Miriam. I know it’s a rough time for you right now, but-”

“That's not the point, Sam,” she interrupted before he could finish, irritation and pain flaring hot in her chest. “You said you needed my help. That implies there’s something I can even do here. You want me to watch Dean, but what the hell do you think I can do if he gets out? I can’t hold back a demon by myself! You could’ve warned me, saved me the trip!”

“He won’t get out,” Sam said, his fingers clenching reflexively on the edge of his sling, and he grimaced. “The cuffs are inscribed with runes, and he’s inside a devil’s trap; you know those will hold demons as long as the lines are intact. Those flasks on the table back there are loaded up with holy water. Anything happens, you run like hell, call me, and I’ll be back here as soon as I can.”

He stepped into her space suddenly, and she was overwhelmed by the sheer size of him. He grasped her shoulder with his good hand, leaning down to hold her gaze. His desperation was etched into every line of his face, and she felt a sudden, unexpected affinity to Sam Winchester.

“I had no one else I could trust. I knew if I told you the whole situation over the phone, you might not come. But I never forgot you and your brother, and I never forgot your promise. I knew, out of the few people I could turn to, that you were the only one who’d understand that I’m going to do everything I can to save Dean.”

Sam’s fingers dug into Miriam’s shoulder blade, but she didn’t flinch, holding his gaze for a long, weighted moment. Then she nodded. He was right. Of everything that had happened since she answered the phone seven hours ago, this was perhaps the one thing she really, truly understood.

“You’re gonna have to load me up with holy water, though. Maybe a water gun to hold it. You got a Super Soaker lyin’ around somewhere?”

Sam coughed out a sudden laugh and released her.

“I can do you one better,” he said.

He reached behind his back to pull out a knife from a hidden sheath. He held it out to her handle-first, and her eyebrows shot up as she took in the inscribed, serrated blade. She’d heard stories about that knife, but she never thought she’d actually see it, much less hold it.

“Shit, Sam, I knew you respected me, but I didn’t know you actually cared.”

...

Chapter 3

[angelsandacceptance]

Criss Angel Is A Douchebag

On yet another case, the four young hunters find themselves in Sioux City, Iowa. Walking along the street, looking for a hotel, they pass by many people doing acts of sorts, some singing, some dancing, and more than a few doing magic tricks. 

Dean and Sam are forced to stop as they realize Chase and Harley had stopped walking behind them a ways back, watching (eyeing more like) a young magician doing a card trick. 

Dean rolls his eyes as the two backtrack. 

“What’re you doing?”

“Watching,” Chase replies simply.

“The show or the guy?” Dean asks, looking more annoyed by the second.

“Definitely both.”

“Does it matter?” Harley asks, looking at the guy up and down. 

“Oh, I recognize him,” Sam says.

“You do?” Dean asks, narrowing his eyes in confusion. 

“Yeah. That’s Jeb Dexter.”

“I don’t even want to know how you know that.”

“He’s famous of sorts.”

“Oh, I bet he is,” Harley mumbles.

“Those looks and that style. Surprised I haven’t seen him anywhere yet.”

“Like your dreams?” Dean mocks.

“Shut up, Dean. You’re only jealous you can’t rock guyliner like that.”

“Guyliner?” Dean asks slowly. He rolls his eyes at Jeb, who starts to act as though he’s having a seizure. “What a douchebag.”

“Shut up, Dean.”

“Come on! He’s faking a demon possession. Poorly, might I add.”

“So what? He’s hot!” Harley says.

Jeb, obviously hearing Harley’s comment, smirks as he locks eyes with her, giving her a wink.

“That’s it!” Dean exclaims, grabbing Harley and Chase by their arms and pulling them after him. “We’re leaving.”

As they continue walking, Dean and Harley hardly notice that he’s still holding onto her arm, despite Chase having yanked hers away almost immediately. 

“I can’t believe people actually fall for that crap,” Dean says bitterly. 

“It’s not all crap,” Sam defends.

“What part of that was not a steaming pile of bullshit?” Dean asks. 

“Him. His looks. His hair. His sty-” Chase is cut off by a death stare from her older brother. She simply responds in the most mature way she can think of- sticking her tongue out at him. 

“Okay, maybe that was crap, but that’s not all magicians,” Sam continues. “It takes skill.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot! You were into that sort of thing! You had a wand and a card deck.”

“Dude, I was thirteen,” Sam says, a little hushed. “It was a phase.”

“It’s not a phase, mom!” Chase says in a mocking voice. Sam shoots her a look. “Hey, don’t look at me like that! You all know I still have my wizarding robes, wand, and cauldron. So, it’s not like you were the only one with a magic phase, Sammy boy.”

“Just—it bugs me. You know, playing at demons and, and magic, when the real thing will kill you bloody,” Dean explains.

“But that’s the point. People like to get scared because it makes them feel better about real life. And to them, none of our lives are real.”

“Yeah, but it is real life. And it will kill you.”

“Like having ten stab wounds, but no tears in his shirt,” Harley says, reiterating the gist of their case. 

“Exactly,” Dean says, looking at her. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

***

Vance’s assistant finishes packing up Vance’s belongings into a bag before turning to the four hunters. Chase and Harley are on their phones looking up Jeb.

“So did your boss have any enemies that you know of?” Dean asks.

“Vance had plenty of enemies.”

“How so?” Sam asks.

“He would steal from other magicians. All the time.”

“What would he steal?”

“Stage effects, closeup techniques, anything he could get his hands on.”

“Is that enough to get him killed?” Dean asks hurriedly, annoyed at the girls.

“These guys take this stuff pretty seriously.”

“Did you find anything weird in Vance's stuff? Well, weirder?”

“Matter of fact, I did.” She pulls a tarot card out of Vance’s suitcase. The ten of swords. “He hated card tricks. Never wanted them around. Let alone in his precious cape.” She hands Sam the tarot card before asking about Chase and Harley, “Are they okay?”

“They’re fawning over some douchebag.” Dean sighs.

***

The four hunters walk into an expansive theater, spotting people with cameras and microphones. Jeb stands over by a far table, talking on his phone. A couple of older men sit at one table, talking amongst themselves. 

Dean makes a beeline for the older gentlemen while Chase and Harley wander near Jeb. After flashing their badges, Jeb shoos away his crew.

“Anything I can for you two lovely ladies?”

“Yes, actually. FBI, this is Manson and I’m Agent Franklin. We have some questions for you.”

Jeb raises his eyebrows at Chase but nods for her to continue. “Of course.”

“We’re looking into the death of Patrick Vance. Did you know him?”

Jeb shakes his head. “Know of him, yes. But I haven’t actually seen any of his work.”

“I have to ask, where were you at the time of his murder?” Harley asks. 

“I was doing a show. My big show here isn’t until later so I lined up a few gigs before then. That night I was at Rowane’s Bar and Club. Drunk people like magic shows as much as the next guy.”

“Thank you. Do you happen to use tarot cards in any of your acts?” Chase asks. 

“Nope. Just regular poker cards.”

“Thanks. Know anyone who does?”

“Not off the top of my head.”

“Well. That’s all. We might have to come back and ask more questions later.”

“If it means seeing you two again. Even if you don’t, look me up. I’m here for a few more days and I’d love to treat you girls to a drink.”

“Or we could get that drink now,” Harley says. 

Jeb shoots her a big smile. “That is something I can live with.” He starts to lead the way to the bar. “Follow me.”

Harley and Chase follow him without much caution, waving Dean off when he shoots them a look. 

***

“Why water? I thought we were having some fun?” Jeb asks Harley once they ordered their drinks.

“I don’t drink,” Harley shrugs, “Doesn’t mean we can’t have fun.”

“That sounds like an invitation.”

“More like a proposal,” Chase says, downing her drink; straight vodka on ice. 

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t,” Harley flirts.

“Well, what if I want it to be?”

“Guess you’ll just have to find out,” Chase says, leaning closer to Jeb, who keeps looking back and forth between the two friends. Harley rests her hand on his thigh.

Jeb smirks, raising his hand to brush a piece of hair away from Harley’s face and leans in to kiss her, but gets interrupted by a fist connecting with his face; specifically Dean’s fist.

“What the hell, Dean!” Harley yells.

“What, he touched you?” Dean says genuinely confused.

“Because he was about to kiss me, dumbass.”

“Look, dude, I didn’t know she had a boyfriend,” Jeb says defensively with his hands in the air. 

“I don’t, at most we’re makeout buddies.”

Sam and Chase look to each other with smug, shit eating grins on their faces, eyes screaming, “knew it”. 

“Really? I thought we were best buddies.” Dean says sarcastically.

“So did I, but apparently not. You constantly flirt with chicks and have one night stands. Let me have this one,” Harley says fuming.

“You can do better than him.”

“Maybe I don’t want to, ever think about that? So shut up and walk away before I make you.”

Dean raises his hands in surrender and goes to sulk in the corner of the room.

“Hmph, that’s what I thought,” Harley turns back to Jeb, “Wanna get out of here and away from that asshole?”

“Yes I do.”

Chase and Sam look from Harley, walking away with Jeb, to Dean, still pouting in the corner. “They are both such idiots,” Chase sighs. 

“Yep,” Sam agrees, shaking his head. 

***

Sam and Dean approach Chase, who is listening in on a conversation between Vernon and Charlie. 

“He's crazy, and you know it,” Vernon says. 

“He says he can do it.”

“Did you even try to talk him out of it?”

“Till I was blue in the face. But I tell you, Vernon, there was...there was something in his eyes.”

“'In his eyes'? You're both nuts.”

“The Chief, huh?” Dean says, breaking the conversation up. 

“What's the matter? Chief not your type?”

“You know, I could have you both arrested for obstruction of justice.”

“How? You're no Fed.”

“We con people for a living, son. Takes more than a fake badge to get past us.”

The three Winchesters laugh at the comment. 

“You got us. Yeah, we—we are actually—aspiring magicians,” Dean says. 

Chase gives him a look. 

“Yeah, we -- We came to the convention 'cause we thought we could learn something.”

“Yeah, get some ideas for our new show,” Chase says, going shopping with the story.

“Ooh, what kind of show?” Vernon asks.

“Well, it's-- It's a --“ Chase cuts herself off and looks to Sam. 

“It's a family act.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you know, with the rings and doves and...rings.”

“You want to learn something? Stick around.”

With this, Jay walks onto stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, what you're about to witness is a feat so daring, So dangerous, even the great Houdini dared not attempt it. I give to you...The executioner!” He announces. 

“As you can see, the Jacket is a real article. Thank you,” he says to a worker, who tightens a straight jacket around him. “You may take your seat. Now. I will have one minute to escape certain death. Let's see if I can do it.”

The curtain falls over the stage, showing only a silhouette of Jay. He seems to be struggling quite a bit with the jacket, which adds to the rising tension in the air. 

“I don't think he's gonna make it,” Dean says.

“I don’t think I care.”

Sam lightly smacks Chase on the shoulder as she laughs quietly behind her hand. 

Seconds pass, the one minute already half over. The crowd watches with bated breath as the minute timer finally stops and Jay is no longer struggling with the jacket, giving the impression he’d failed. Suddenly, Jay pushes aside the curtain, unharmed.

“Oh!” Dean exclaims. “That was amazing! That was fucking amazing!”

“Thought it was all crap,” Chase teases. 

“That was...not humanly possible,” Sam says. 

The two older siblings cast him worried glances as he clenches his jaw, deep in thought. They jump slightly when Chase’s phone starts to ring.

“Is that Harley?” Dean asks worriedly. 

“Yes, now shut up.”

The two boys watch and listen to only one side of the phone call, their expressions growing more confused while Chase listens to Harley lowkey freaking out, horror reflecting in her eyes.

***

The most interesting thing happened during Harley’s post coital nap. A noose came behind Jeb Dexter while he was posing in the mirror and dragged him up to the ceiling fan. It was a quick death as the force of him being pulled up snapped his neck.

Harley stirred, but slept for another 5 minutes before waking up to find Jeb’s body dangling from the ceiling fan. She immediately calls Chase, “Hey, so um we got a problem.”

“Yeah, what’s up?” Chase’s mind goes to a hundred different possibilities, all of them worse than the last. “Are you okay?”

“I am, but um Jeb’s not so lucky. He’s kind of dead.”

“What?” Chase exclaims. Harley can hear Dean and Sam in the background, before a loud “Ow,” presumably from Dean.

“Yeah, he’s hanging from a noose in his hotel room. I don’t really know what to do.”

“Um. Uh, okay, well, does anyone know you’re there?”

“No, but my fingerprints are all over the body.”

“Um, right. That’s an issue. Maybe we should skip town and let the boys deal with the rest of this. How are you going to get away with this? First of all, they’ll question you. While doing that, they’ll realize you aren’t FBI-”

“Questioning her for what?” Harley can hear Sam ask.

“Guys, shut up!” Chase snaps.

“I mean do they have my fingerprints in the database if I’m legally dead?”

“Oh, yeah, that. Sweet, okay, so please - You’re dressed, right?” “I can be.”

“Okay, yeah. Do that, then get your lucky ass down here asap, so that we can fucking not get charged for murder please.”

“Okay see you in a bit.”

***

“What was that about?” Dean demands. 

“Um, yeah, Jeb’s dead. But it’s fine!”

“How is that fine?” Sam asks.

“Because Harley is legally dead so she won’t get charged for murder!”

“How does that make Jeb being dead, “fine”?” Sam asks.

“I’m trying to be positive!”

“Not a good look on you,” Dean says.

“Oh shut up, you pile of horse manure.”

“Let’s just get back to the hotel room. I just shot Harley a text. She’s going to meet us there.”

“Okay,” Chase says, ignoring Dean who is still looking at her indignantly for calling him horse shit.

***

“So, I’m never having a one night stand again,” Harley announces as she enters the room.

Dean goes to say something, which Chase assumes is going to be something stupid and hypocritical, so she stops him by smacking her hand on the back of his head. He pouts, turning to glare at her, but she just looks back at Harley, completely unbothered.

“This has to be something to do with Jay, right?” Sam asks. 

“Probably. The tarot card of the ten swords found on the guy with ten stab wounds, right after Jay does the table of death,” Chase says.

“Yeah, and now the executioner ends with Jeb hanged,” Dean continues. 

“Whatever this is, we have to stop it soon, before we end up dead. Wait, have any of you bothered checking yourselves for tarot cards? I’ve done it several times since Harley called me.”

“Only one I have on me is the one I pulled from Jeb’s pocket.” Harley sighs.

“Well, let’s start with some research on Jay.”

“Sounds good,” Chase says, after smacking Dean once more after he went to make a snide comment to Harley. 

***

“So, it turns out Jay was a pretty big deal in the seventies,” Sam says.

“Which in magician land means what exactly?” Dean asks.

“Big enough to play at radio city music hall.”

“What got him stuck in their "where are they now?" File?”

“Looks to me like the only thing is that he got old,” Chase says. “Okay, so maybe incredible Jay is using real magic to stage a comeback,” Harley says.

“It’s possible,” Sam says. 

“Could be some kind of spell that works as a death transference?”

“How does the tarot card mix into it?” Dean asks.

“Well, it looks like that’s how he chooses his targets. If they have a tarot card on them, they’ll be the ones to die when the spell takes place,” Chase says.

“Man,” Dean says, “hope I die before I get old. Whole thing seems brutal, don't it?”

“You’re not allowed to die young, Dean,” Chase says. 

“Already have.”

“Do you think we will?” Sam asks. 

“Will what?” Dean asks. Harley and Chase roll their eyes at his idiocy. 

“Die before we get old.”

“Like Dean just said, technically you both already have,” Harley points out. 

“You know what I mean. I mean, do you think we'll still be chasing demons when we're 60?”

“I mean, what else is there to do? Crocheting?” Chase laughs. 

“Yeah, I don’t see myself settling down,” Harley adds. “And what is better than chasing demons?”

“No, I think we'll be dead,” Dean says,“for good. What? You want to end up like -- Like Travis? Huh?Or Gordon, maybe?”

“There’s Bobby,” Chase says. 

“Oh, yeah, there's a poster child for growing old gracefully.”

“Maybe we’ll be different,” Sam says. 

"What kind of Kool-Aid you drinking, man? Sammy, it ends bloody or sad. That's just the life,” Dean says. 

“And if we could win somehow?” Chase offers. 

“Win?” Harley asks. 

“If there was a way we could just...put an end to all of it,” Chase explains. 

“Is there something you two ain’t telling me?” Dean asks. 

“No, just curious, I guess.”

“No,” Sam says.

“Sammy.”

“Look, I'm just saying...I just wish there was a way we could...go after the source. That's all. Cut the head off the snake.”

“Well, the problem with the snake is that it has a thousand heads. Evil bitches just keep piling out of the Volkswagen.”

“Guess you’re right.”

“How about we split up. I’ll see if I can find anything on these tarot cards that confirms Chase’s theory. You find Jay. Chase, you wanna go with me or do you, Harley?” Dean asks, looking hopefully at the latter.

“I’ll go with you,” Chase offers, hoping to spare Harley any unnecessary comments from her brother.

Dean shoots Chase a look before sighing. “Okay, that settles it. Let’s go.”

***

“Why did you sleep with Jeb?” Sam asks, “You never have one night stands.”

“To get back at Dean,” Harley says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“For?”

“Being a hypocrite.”

“You slept with someone out of spite?”

“Yep,” Harley says before adding, “I don’t want to win.”

“Why? We can have normal lives.”

“In case you haven’t noticed I’m not exactly normal. A normal life doesn’t suit me. I need action, excitement, adventure.”

“You could act.”

“I’d rather hunt.”

“People die hunting.”

“People die without it.”

“I guess, but we do need to stop the apocalypse.”

“Yeah, don’t need a toilet paper shortage on our hands.”

***

Dean and Chase stare at the body.

“Told you,” Chase says simply.

“Okay. Okay, you were right. It’s likely transference magic and this pathetic douche didn’t kill himself.”

“Dean, can you shut up for one moment?”

“No.”

Chase groans. “This is why Harley and you fight! Because you don’t have the fucking balls on you to make her yours, but then you go and be an ass to her when she shows interest in other guys!”

“I wouldn’t have been happy had you slept with Mr. Guyliner either.”

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t have reacted like a jealous boyfriend. Here’s the thing. You have got to stop being so overprotective of her. She has shown time and time again she can handle herself.”

“But she shouldn’t have to,” Dean argues.

Chase rolls her eyes. “Just fucking date her already.”

“I don’t like her like that!”

“Bullshit.”

Chase and Dean quickly exit the hotel room, to go meet back with Sam and Harley. 

“It’s not bullshit. It’s the truth.”

“Okay, fine,” Chase says, stopping and turning to Dean.

“I want you to imagine something for me.”

“I’m scared.”

“Shut up, Dean! Just do it.”

“Fine!”

“Imagine Harley dating someone. Some guy. Let’s say he’s tall, dark hair, guyliner, Harley’s alt dream boy. Now imagine them together. They’ll kiss, hold hands, whatever the hell else. He’s her boyfriend so he probably won’t like how touchy you are with her. So you’ll have to stay hand’s off. They’ll get married, sleep together, grow old together. Now, don’t have to tell me, but think for a moment how you’d feel watching that from afar. Because I’m pretty sure you feel a bit differently about that situation than if it were me and my boyfriend. That difference is called loving someone versus being in love with them. You’d be happy for me, but you’d be angry, pouty, and jealous if it were her. Just in case you needed an eye opener.”

Chase continues to walk on, ignoring Dean, who is staring after her with wide eyes, a pained look of discomfort on his features before he hurriedly rushes after her, deep in thought.

 ***

Harley and Sam arrive in the lobby first, they wait a few minutes before Chase and Dean walk through the lobby doors.

“Hey,” Sam greets.

“Hey, Chase,” Harley says.

“Hey, Harley!”

“Maid found Jeb hanging from the ceiling fan. Police think it was a suicide,” Dean says.

“Who was right? That’s right. Me,” Chase says.

“About what? The death transference?” Harley asks.

“Yep!”

“Okay, good, that’s a lead.”

“Any connection between the victims?” Sam questions.

“Jeb was a total douche bag to Jay,” Dean offers.

“What about Vance?” Harley asks.

“Apparently, Vance was heckling Jay at the bar the day he was killed,” Chase answers.

“Okay, so Jay sneaks a card into Vance's pocket, does the table of death…” Sam says.

“And Vance takes 10 swords to the chest,” Dean adds.

“Then Jay slips a noose and Jeb doesn't. Hell of a trick.”

“Hell of a way to wake up,” Harley pouts.

 Dean grimaces, as though unhappy about the reminder of the situation. “Yeah, I think it's time we had a little chat with Jay. Any luck tailing him?”

“He slipped us,” Sam says quietly.

“He slipped you? Both of you?” Chase asks in disbelief. “He’s 60.”

“He’s a magician,” Sam says in defense. 

***

Winchesters and Co. follow Jay up to his hotel room, guns drawn. After Jay enters his room, Dean kicks down the door. 

“Up against the wall!” Dean yells.

“God, who are you? What do you want?” Jay asks, panicking.

“Now!”

“We know what you've been up to,” Sam adds.

“You been working some real bad mojo to jump-Start your act,” Dean states.

“Mojo? Really?” Chase shakes her head at Dean, before re-aiming her gun at Jay. 

“What? I don't know what you're talking about.” Jay says frantically.

“Look, we know you put a spell on those tarot cards,” Harley says, rolling her eyes.

“Messing with real magic?” Dean asks.

“"Real magic"? Come on, there's no such thing as real magic,” Jay insists.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Yeah, believe me. I've been around this stuff my whole life. It's all just --It's -- It's illusions. It's tricks. It -- It's all fake.”

“Jeb hanging from his ceiling fan too? ‘Cause that looked pretty real,” Harley says.

“What? Something happened to Jeb?”

“Got hung right after you slipped the noose.”

They tie Jay up, and watch him carefully for a few minutes, before they finally start wondering what’s up. 

“I swear, I don’t know what you guys are talking about. Just let me go!”

“Something’s not right,” Dean finally speaks up.

“Usually they’re whipping some bad hoodoo at us by now,” Sam agrees.

Chase gives her younger brother a look. “Seriously? Dean making those comments is expected. But you?”

“What do you want to do?” Sam asks Chase. “Or is the only thing you’re good for making comments about us?”

“Wow, rude.” 

Sam shrugs. 

“What do we want to do?” Dean reiterates. 

“Well, if it’s not him, who is it?” Harley asks. 

Dean rolls his eyes. “What, want revenge for lover-boy or something?”

“Dean, we are literally here for this job. Can you shut the fuck up for once?” Chase groans.

“Yes, Dean, I totally want revenge for someone I’ve known less than a day. That makes total sense,” Harley snarks.

Dean opens his mouth to make another comment, but Sam interrupts, shooting him a pointed look. 

“Even if Jay's not working the magic, he's still getting the reward. His shows are selling out,” Sam says. “All right. So, then, whoever it is, they're obviously in Jay's corner,” Chase points out.

Dean, as though suddenly remembering to be professional (and less of a dick) carries on with the case. “All right, so we got Vernon and Charlie on the list. Anyone else?”

“Not that we know of,” Harley sighs.

“Uh, well, we could just… I don’t know. Ask him?” Chase says.

“Or not,” Harley says, noting that the chair is empty.

The other three hunters turn to see an empty chair. 

“Are you fucking with me right now? God dammit, mother Mary!”

Harley laughs a little at Chase’s wording.

“Guess we should have seen that one coming,” Dean sighs. 

“He couldn’t have gotten that far,” Sam reasons. 

“Let’s go look for him,” Harley says. 

They all nod and leave the room to search for the missing magician, unbeknownst to them that he had been hiding in the closet the whole time. 

***

Jay had called the cops on the hunters and they came face to face with each other in the lobby. The gang got arrested and thrown in holding cells. Dean and Harley together while Chase and Sam were beside them (the latter two who are listening in on the former, without their knowledge or consent).

“Why?” Dean asks.

“Why what?” Harley says shooting him a cautious and confused glare.

“Why’d you sleep with him?”

“Why do you care? We’re not together.”

“I know, but if you get a boyfriend or girlfriend our whole dynamic will change. No more late nights cuddling and watching Scooby-Doo. No more kissing or flirting.”

“Dean, you’ll always be my main man. Even if some other guy comes around.”

“Or girl?”

“Or girl, so do everyone a favor and stop being a hypocritical ass. We’ll still be flirty friends in our old age. Nothing is going to change that.”

“Right, yeah.” Dean says not buying it for a second, but letting the issue lie.

“I can’t believe you got that jealous over Jeb.” Harley laughs.

“I wasn’t jealous.”

“Totally were.”

“Was not.”

“Whatever, you’re no fun.”

“I’ll show you how much fun I can be.”

“No, Dean.”

“C’mon, you fuck some random magician, but not me!” Dean yells indignantly.

“Yeah well. Maybe it was the guyliner,” Harley huffs.

“I’m a better lay anyday.”

“I don’t know Dean, it was kinda the best sex of my life.”

***

Sam and Chase turn to each other, and as silently as they can (which isn’t very silent because both Dean and Harley hear them), fangirl about the couple-to-be. They literally begin to wave their hands, screeching into their palms, jumping around. It’s kind of embarrassing.

***

“Jay. Thanks for dropping the charges,” Sam says.

“Yeah, it’s nice to not be in a cell anymore,” Chase nods.

“Yeah, especially when locked with him,” Harley jokes, motioning towards Dean, who just laughs and shakes his head at her. 

“You mind telling us why you did it?” Dean asks, turning to Jay, suspicious of him. 

“We have to talk,” Jay says.

***

“I was just a kid when we first met. All I knew was how to cheat at cards. Charlie got me out of more scrapes than I can count. Hell, I would have been dead by the age of 20 if it hadn't been for him,” Jay sighs, “He was more than my friend. He was my brother.”

“I'm sorry, Jay.” Sam offers.

“Look, I should have listened to you guys when you told me that my show was killing people.”

“Thank you,” Harley says, not exactly tactfully.

“Well, you weren't the one pulling the trigger,” Dean adds, trying to cover up Harley’s previous comment.

“Yeah, but someone did, and I want to find out who did this to Charlie, so I'll do whatever you guys say. Just tell me what to do.” Jay says.

“Jay, whoever's doing this...They like you. They're probably close to you. Did Charlie and Vernon get along?” Chase asks, trying to be careful, but also not wanting to miss any leads for the sake of sparing his feelings.

“No. No, it's not Vernon.”

“He's the only one that makes sense,” Harley comments.

“Charlie and Vernon were your family, Jay,” Sam states, his voice understanding.

“And now Charlie's gone,” Dean adds.

“Yeah, but...they butted heads sometimes, but Vernon could never do something like this,” Jay says, denial evident in his voice.

“You sure about that?” Harley asks.

“See, the thing about real magic is it's a whole lot like crack. People do surprising things once they get a taste of it,” Dean adds.

“You better be damn sure about this. Vernon's all I got left,” Jays states.

***

The four hunters enter Vernon’s hotel room after Jay had called him away.

“Wow. It's like a...magic museum,” Sam says, almost in awe.

“You must be in heaven. This guy doesn't travel light,” Dean jokes.

“He’s been on the road forever, Dean, this is probably all of his stuff.” Harley laughs.

“Let’s get started,” Chase comments, as she’s the least distracted.

They all look around the room, determined to find anything to help them with their current lead. Finally, Chase stops, sighing. “This is useless. There’s nothing here!”

“This is just a bunch of old-Timey magic stuff --None of it magic,” Dean says after a few minutes of looking through Vernon’s stuff.

“No herbs, no candles, and no tarot cards,” Sam agrees.

“I'll be damned!” Dean exclaims.

“What?” Chase asks.

Dean holds up a vintage poster with a young Charlie on it; the only problem is Charlie shouldn’t have been born yet (from the looks of the poster, it’s older, as though from a circus advertisement). “Look like anyone we know?”

***

The four hunters rush to the stage room, minds reeling. They get there in time to hear a young Charlie offer his two friends immortality. 

“Not so fast!” Dean exclaims, climbing up the stage steps, followed by the others. “I ain't Guttenberg, and this ain't "Cocoon."” 

“Immortality. That's a neat trick,” Chase says, standing in front of Charlie. 

Charlie smiles at her. “It’s not a trick.” A noose drops from the ceiling, looping around Chase’s throat and pulling her up. “It’s magic.”

Just before Dean could try to help her, Charlie places a hand on his shoulder. Dean suddenly turns to Harley and raises his gun. 

“Um, Dean, what the fuck. Bad guy that way,” Harley exclaims, pointing at Charlie. He simply smirks at her, shooting. She ducks, narrowly escaping the bullet.

Sam shoots Charlie, and he catches the bullet in his teeth. “Bullet catch,” Charlie smiles. “Been working on that.”

“Get him!” Chase yells out, keeping a hand in between the rope and her neck, breathing shallowly. “Can someone just fucking gank him already?”

Sam is pushed onto a table, bloody swords dangling above him, ready to drop at any second. Charlie watches it all with a smile.

“Dean, what the fuck!” Harley exclaims again, trying to help, but not being able to do much other than avoid Dean’s bullets.

Suddenly, Charlie gasps, looking down at his stomach, where blood is blossoming across his shirt. He looks to Jay, who has a pack of tarot cards in his hand, the other hand wrapped around a knife he had plunged into himself.

“Jay… You chose these strangers over me?” Charlie asks. Jay only looks at him sadly, as though holding back tears. Charlie collapses to the ground, the tarot card that killed him in hand. 

The rope snaps, dropping Chase to the ground unceremoniously. The straps holding Sam to the table break, allowing him to be free. Dean, having stopped shooting at Harley, looks around with confused eyes, having missed the past few minutes’ events. 

“You okay?” Sam asks Chase, while Dean and Harley check up on each other. 

Chase, gasping a little for air still, nods. “Yeah. I’m good.”

***

The four hunters, having packed up, and gotten ready to leave, stop to say goodbye to Jay. 

“Hey, Jay,” Dean says, walking into the bar. “We just wanted to thank you for what you did yesterday.”

“I killed my best friend yesterday, and you want to thank me?” Jay asks in grieving disbelief. 

“Where’s Vernon?” Sam asks, unsure of how to respond to Jay’s statement. 

“Oh, he’s gone. He said he didn't want to speak to me again after what I did to Charlie.”

“You know, Jay. Charlie was never going to give up what he was doing. You did the right thing,” Harley says. 

“Are you sure about that? You know, Charlie was like my brother. And now he's dead... because I did "the right thing." He offered me a gift, and I just threw it back in his face. So now I have to spend the rest of my life old and alone. What's so right about that?” Jay stands from his table and leaves, the card deck he’d been shuffling discarded on the table. 

“Jay, your cards,” A bartender says. 

“Throw them away.”

Before Jay exits fully, Chase stops him. “I really am sorry. If I had to do that, I don’t know what I’d do. So, I’m sorry.” Jay nods to her, exiting the bar.

Dean sighs. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I could go for a beer.”

“I’m going to take a walk,” Sam says. 

“Do you want any company?” Chase asks.

“No, I’m good. Just want to think.”

“Okay.”

After Sam departs, the three other sit down at a table and order drinks; Dean, beer, Chase, whiskey, and Harley, a Shirley Temple.

“Dean, what’s that on your eyes?” Chase asks suddenly, seeing dark circles under his eyes. Dean rubs at his eyes, shaking his head.

“Nothing.”

“Dean, did- Did you try putting eyeliner on?” Chase asks. 

Harley’s head snaps up from her phone to look at Dean with wide eyes and a smile. “You know you could’ve asked for help? Wait… Where did you even get it?”

“Where you get eyeliner, duh,” Dean scoffs.

“Did you rummage through my stuff, Dean?” Chase asks.

“No.”

“Did you go through mine?” Harley asks.

Dean avoids direct eye contact. “Maybe.”

“Dean! What did I tell you about going through people’s things?” Chase demands. 

“Not to do it.”

“And what did you do?”

“Okay, I went through Harley’s stuff and got eyeliner and tried putting it on but it looked bad, and I couldn’t figure out how to take it off.”

“Did you take anything else?” Chase sighs.

Once again, he avoids eye contact with both girls. “Noooo.”

“For fuck’s sake, Dean,” Harley sighs.

Chase smiles, but soon, it turns into full on laughter at the thought of Dean putting on eyeliner. Harley joins her and Dean sits there, pouting and fighting a smile.

Sam wanders in during this and sits down, leans over to Dean, asking, “What’s so funny?”

This only makes the girls laugh harder.

“Don’t worry, Dean. I’ll teach you how to put it on.”

***

Harley and Dean are in the girls’ bathroom.

“Okay, so you want to pull down your lower lid, then you can apply eyeliner to your waterline,” Harley explains.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Dean groans.

“It’s your fault for putting it on wrong. Now you gotta learn how to put it on right.”

“I really don’t need to learn, the eyeliner was a moment of weakness.”

“And if you have another moment of weakness you’ll need to know how to do it right,” Harley laughs.

“How happy will this make you?”

“Extremely.”

“Fine… What’s a waterline?”

“It’s like the very edge of your lower lid.”

“Wait is it supposed to touch your eye?” Dean asks.

“Yes, Dean, you put it in your eyes,” Harley snarks.

“Okay, I get it. That was a dumb question.”

Harley hands Dean the eyeliner brush; he pulls down his lower lid and hesitantly applies the eyeliner creme before doing the same a little more confidently to the other eye.

“Good job! Now comes the hard part. Less scary, but harder,” Harley jokes, “I want you to try your very best to stay close to your lash line while applying to your upper lid.”

“Can you say that again? This time in english.”

“Put the eyeliner directly above your eyelashes on your upper eyelid.”

“Why couldn’t you have just said that?”

“I did.”

Dean scoffs, but nonetheless does what he’s told.

“Good, now the easiest bit,” Harley smiles.

“There’s more!?” Dean exclaims, shocked and somewhat disappointed.

“Honey, you’re only halfway done. Now close your eyes and smudge the living daylights out of that eyeliner.”

“Can’t I be done?” Dean sighs.

“Depends, do you want to look hot or do you want to look sexy?” Harley smirks.

“Sexy.”

“Then smudge the damn eyeliner.”

“Fine,” Dean smudges the damn eyeliner before opening his eyes, “I look ridiculous.”

“Look at me,” Harley demands. She inspects his eyeliner making sure none of it is on his nose and wiping off the parts that are a bit to close, “Perfect. Last step; wash the eyeliner off your fingers.”

Naturally he ignores this and wipes it on his jeans. Harley rolls her eyes, but smiles. He can't help but grin seeing her reaction.

[captainkirkk]

King Falls AM Fic Recs

I finished listening to Kfam about a week ago and immediately started binge-reading fics (and re-listening to the entire series). So rather than clogging up my weekly fic round-up, I thought I’d make this into its own list. I’ve still got plenty of fics left to read, but here’s a list of the ones I’ve really, really enjoyed so far.

(Contains spoilers!)

You Don't Tip Over by helloearthlings (Note: this author is going to keep popping up in this list - their fics are just so good)

“I mean, I’m just an intern,” Ben says quickly. “I’m not – I’m not complaining or anything. It’s just – I came to LA just for this internship, and I’ve never lived away from home before. So on top of all the shit I get here, I’m in this awful sublet with five roommates who act like smoking pot is a personality and there’s never a moment’s quiet, and it’s so expensive anyway. I just really miss my mom, this is the first time I’ve lived more than a few miles from her, and the town I’m from is just so special to me and I’ve never been away for longer than a week – oh God, I’m rambling, I’m so sorry -”

“Ben,” Jack moves to squeeze his shoulder, recognizing the symptoms of a panic attack after years of helping Sammy through his. “Just breathe. In and out. You’re gonna be okay.”

[In which Jack recruits Ben as an intern for Shotgun Saturday Nights.]

Take My Heart and Run Along by SolBaby

Ben is 12 and Sammy is 18 and they're whole years too young to try and survive and navigate life on their own. But they have friends who love them more than they know what to do with. And they have each other, despite everything bad in their life that's trying to force it otherwise, at the very least, they have each other. And that's the best they could ever hope for.

Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)

by

Cassidae

 Ben had This Is Your Year, Sammy Stevens clips edited to Green Day’s Good Riddance, subtitled Time of Your Life. It’s a song about someone leaving, but that’s semantics.

Then Sammy’s gone.

[ The first Sammiversary happens sans Sammy. This is what happens after. ]

Wish You All The Best by FoxGlade

“This is gonna sound like a stupid question,” Ben says suddenly, “but what year is it?”

Well, Ben has said stupider things. “2018,” Sammy answers. Ben looks to Jack, who looks to Emily, who narrows her mouth into a thin line.

“That’s… maybe a problem,” she says.

(The Christmas magic of King Falls strikes again, giving Sammy a firsthand account of his own future.)

Call On Me by FoxGlade

There's only one 24 hour grocery in King Falls. Considering the night owl habits of what seems like half the town, Emily was expecting it to be busier, but she's the only one cruising the aisles at 4am on a Tuesday morning. She's just passed the pharmacy section and picked up the medicine she needs, and now she's idling in the produce section. It's maybe too early in the morning for her brain to be online.

But it's not too early for someone else.

The phone only rings once before the voice on the other end says, “You're live on King Falls AM for our special Get Better Ben show.”

(Emily calls into the station while Ben is home sick.)

for a higher love by helloearthlings

“Supreme Court legalized same sex marriage this morning, 5-4.”

Ron could tell in an instant that Sammy already knew; something about him crumpled when Ron said it out loud.

God, the guy was – sad about this? Ron’s quiet suspicion about which way Sammy swung was absolutely confirmed – the straight and narrow of King Falls might be all woe is me over the fact that they didn’t have a monopoly on marriage anymore, but no one looked this wrecked if the decision didn’t affect them personally. The question was why this had put Sammy in some sort of drunken stupor.

[Ron, Sammy, and Pride in King Falls.]

tell me we'll never get used to it by feather_cadence

Ben, Sammy, and Lily come up with some rules for living together. Lily tries to figure out just where it is she fits.

reflected by helloearthlings

“Oh God,” Sammy says faintly with Ben’s voice, staring slack jawed. “I didn’t even know my face was capable of making that expression.”

Ben doesn’t think he has any particular expression on but Jack nods emphatically in Sammy’s direction. “That’s how I knew it wasn't you! Your face just doesn’t do that.”

“Do what?” Ben feels particularly defensive of his face – it’s his face, he can’t change it, except apparently he can, since it’s Sammy’s face right now and oh shit, Ben needs to lay back down and wake up from this surreal dream.

Shine by neversaydie

It's not a flashy affair, more of a cookout than a parade, but Ron's dock is decked out in rainbow bunting and there are cheesy tunes blaring from a speaker inside the Bait and Tackle - as the man himself flips burgers in nothing but his daisy dukes and a rainbow flag tied around his shoulders like a cape.

He is, quite literally, the hero they deserve.

Sammy watches from a distance, leaning against the side of the shop and nursing a beer as the party unfolds. There's already talk of repeating the event next year, getting some local sponsorship and making it bigger and better.

It's… nice. Weird, but nice.

[in which Pride makes it to King Falls, and Sammy gets used to being out and proud.]

Tend by helloearthlings

Ben had been so startled the first time this happened, running in and finding Sammy sobbing and crying out like there was a monster under the bed, but Ben had quickly adapted to this new feature of their friendship. He could be the big brother for a change. He’d shaken Sammy awake, wrapped his arms around him and fell back asleep curled up next to him to make sure Sammy slept through the night.

Sammy told him again and again, with a lack of eye contact and pink cheeks, that it really wasn’t necessary, that he could take care of himself. To which Ben always replied that Sammy had done enough taking care of himself in the last three years and it was someone else’s turn now.

i'm bleeding, i'm not just making conversation by helloearthlings

“I – I don’t know how to say it,” Sammy says, desperately wanting to because he just wants someone to understand, but he knows Jack can’t no matter how hard he tries, and Sammy’s so ashamed already even without his best friend knowing he’s faked his entire life. “I think I’ve been trying to say it all my life, but I can’t, I just can’t, I can’t say this out loud. Every goddamn choice I’ve ever made, every decision, every fucking – personality trait – it’s all fake, it’s all to stay hidden, I don’t think I’m a real person, I really don’t think I’m real.”

[Sammy's internalized homophobia over the years.]

living for the right now by helloearthlings

The crib isn’t all that’s in the box. There’s a stack of kids’ books – Dr. Seuss, mainly. A couple of onesies. One of them is yellow and has a giraffe pattern on it, the other green with turtles.

What really gets Ben is a little brown bear, barely bigger than Ben’s hand when he picks it up with all the reverence he can muster. It’s got a big, bright smile, little black nose, and says I Love You Beary Much on the heart in its paws.

“Oh,” Ben hears Sammy’s voice whisper from somewhere behind him. His voice is very soft and thick, like he’s choking tears back.

That’s when Ben breaks, little sobs coming out of his mouth that he just can’t help.

Oh Bondage, Up Yours

by

neversaydie

Part 1 of Kink Falls AM (Note: I don’t normally rec smut fics, but this series is a character study with an amazing amount of depth that just happens to be centred around kink. Very well written.)

In which Sammy and Jack's less than vanilla sex life becomes apparent, Ben is extremely sex positive while trolling, and Sammy is absolutely mortified.

a fever i am learning to live with by helloearthlings

Sammy had never lived alone before he came to King Falls.

[Five times Sammy had to deal with living alone for the first time, and one time Ben put a stop to that.]

[samuelkwinchester]

14.11 - Sister!Winchester

Warnings: Language, Gore (kind of?), Mentions of rape, Unwanted touching (isn’t super detailed and doesn’t get very far, but please avoid if easily triggered).

Summary: Hope Winchester is Sam and Dean’s little sister from a different mom. This takes place during the events of season 14 episode 11, “Damaged Goods,” when Dean visits his mother and Nick is searching for her so that he can get revenge. Unfortunately, Hope gets caught in the crossfire between Nick and his obsession to find who killed his family

(I know that the picture is not from the episode, but bear with me. Also, it is not mine)

Enjoy :)

“Sam, I’m worried about Dean…” I whispered into the phone.

“What’s wrong, Hope?” Sammy asked, his breath hitching in his throat.

“Dean is getting real close with Mar- mom. Plus he’s been in the shed for almost an hour now. There’s a lot of noise going on. I think it’s a blowtorch and maybe some sort of power saw? I don’t know. Either way, he had a lot of books with him. And that’s really not like him. You know that, Sam. He’s just not himself. I mean, I know with Michael being stuck in his head and all, but really thi-”

“Hope. Breathe.” Sam commanded through the phone. “It’s gonna be okay. I’ll be over in maybe four hours, give or take. Stay there, stay alert, and stay safe. You have your phone, so call me if you need me. I’ll be there soon, okay?”

“O-okay.” I said shallowly. The phone went dead.

I got up from my curled up position on my bed. The sun had gone down, and the room was no longer visible. I shivered, remembering what dad had said about the dark. My feet touched the cold, bedroom floor. I carefully guided myself toward the lightswitch, finding the panel, and switching it on. 

The floor was pristine, obviously hadn’t been walked on in at least a few months. I looked in the mirror next to the doorway. There I stood, dressed in a simple pair of light denim ripped jeans (which Sam and Dean gave me a lot of crap for), a black short-sleeved undershirt, and a red and black flannel. My socks were black, warm, and fuzzy. Dean got them for me around Halloween, when the weather started to get cold. 

I quickly looked away from the mirror, and walked into the hallway, down the wood stairs. I walked into the kitchen, smelling something greasy and… familiar?

“Hope!” Dean smiled at me from the kitchen. “You hungry? Mom and I were making and old favorite- Winchester Surprise!”

I forced a smile on my face. “Of course! Let me go wash up real quick and I’ll join you guys.” Excusing myself to the restroom, I locked the door and leaned against it, doing the one thing I haven’t done in over a year.

“Castiel? If you are hearing this, I need you to stay where you are. I just wanted to tell you that I’m with Dean and Mary. Dean doesn’t seem to be doing well. He’s not like himself. I just wanted to tell you so that you could keep Jack posted. He deserves to know as much as I do, especially with everything going on right now. I’ll keep you up to date.”

//

“Jeez, Dean. I can’t believe you remember how I used to feed you and John this dish. It’s so… greasy.” Mary smiled, reliving old memories that I obviously wasn’t apart of.

“How could I forget? I love this stuff.” Dean smiled, stuffing his face with this interesting concoction. Meanwhile, I just picked at my food.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” Mar- mom asked.

“I’m just… Not feeling well. I think I might take a walk. Some fresh air might help.” I said, slowly getting up from the dinner table. Before I could get far, Dean grabbed my hand.

“Don’t forget your gun. I’m not letting you step out of my sight without it, okay? Especially out there.” Dean’s eyes glazed over, and I knew that something was eating him up.

“O-okay. Love you, D.” I said before grabbing my gun from the buffet table. Putting the gun in my waistband, I slipped my boots on and walked out the door.

The woods were somewhat of a sanctuary- especially where I’m from. I was raised in Seattle before Sam and Dean found me. Dad was on a case there and met my mom. I was conceived the night they met. Then Dad up and left, but came around for the few birthdays I had (before he died) and the occasional Christmas or Halloween (again, very few). I wasn’t completely special to him, but I was his child. And there was still love given to me from him.

He’d tell me about my brothers before I had even met them. He said that Sammy was a genius going to college so that he could do something with his life besides ‘the family business’- which was what he would call it back then. Dean was described as the legacy of the family, the one who would continue the business.

I hadn’t met them before John died.

Sam and Dean had barged into my house the night my mom died. I was five years old when the demon was killed. That’s when I started touring with the Winchester duo, and I contributed as the final part to the trio. I went through it all with them but stayed with Bobby a lot. When Mary came into the picture, I didn’t know how to react. She wasn’t my mom, but I was Sam and Dean's sister. She accepted me as her own early on, and I love her for it, but I’m still adjusting.

As I walked away from the cabin, I noticed headlights in the distance. I had a bad feeling about it, but I walked away. I knew I would regret it, but I didn’t just how much. 

Continuing into the woods, I thought about Dean. What was he doing in the barn? Building something maybe? Or was he just releasing some pent up feelings? Either way, something was up, and I knew there was something he was keeping from me. I know he was possessed by apocalypse Michael, but he knows that at one point I was possessed by Michael from this world. I may not have been possessed for long, but it was still hell. I can remember that much. Especially because Michael only talked about wanting to use my brothers so that he could kill his own. He messed with my head too, and Dean doesn’t realize it. I want him to know I’m here. I need him to know I’m here. He shouldn’t go through this alone. He didn’t let me go through it alone.

I heard sirens coming from the dirt road, which made me feel a little safer but also a little more on edge. I didn’t think there was anything obviously wrong, so it was a shock to know the van was being looked for.

 I quickly returned to the road, the cabin nowhere in sight, and turned to see Donna and… Nick? They were fighting, and for a moment it looked like Donna had the upper hand. Then Nick pulled the taser out from nowhere and tazed Donna. I froze, not knowing what to do. I could yell, but that would bring attention to myself. I watched as Nick effortlessly lifted Donna, and put her in the cop car. As he finished up, he turned around and locked eyes on my distant figure.

My blood ran cold- and not because it was near 40 degrees.

I had heard about a killer roaming around the Pike Creek area in Delaware, but I didn’t put two and two together. I should have known- I should have said something.

Nick started to walk towards me, and my body kicked into fight or flight mode.

I started with a jogging pace, getting away from Nick. I started to sprint as I heard a clicking noise. While trying to run in a zig-zag pattern I heard a ‘boom’ and then pain spread throughout my hip. I cried out, the pain was sudden and unforgiving. As I fell, I could feel the blood staining my clothes and my waist. My left hand moved to the wound so I could attempt to stop some bleeding. Everything was in slow motion. I hit the ground with a hard ‘thud’, my head spinning. The pain was almost unbearable, but I’ve had worse. I heard running footsteps and I knew he was coming for me. I took my hand off of the wound and pushed myself back up. I suppressed a groan as I put pressure on my leg, which traveled to my hip. I started to run towards the cabin, praying that I could make it before I either bled out or Nick caught me. 

I could see lights, indicating I was close to Dean. Maybe not as close as I’d like, but it was something. Hope filled my veins and pushed me forward. I was so close to being home, so close to having the upper hand in this fight, so close to telling Dean that it was going to be okay. That I was going to be there for him.

Until I wasn’t close anymore.

Hands traveled to my hips, grabbing hard and intentionally pressing against my damaged hip. I choked out a quiet sob. I was caught, and I couldn’t see the light in this situation anymore. I wasn’t just scared- I was terrified. Nowhere left to go.

Game over.

“Where do you think you’re going, princess?” Nick sneered into my ear, obviously rubbing his victory into my face.

“Fuck. You.” I growled. I began to get defensive. I knew that he didn’t need me for anything, but he didn’t want his cover blown either. The worst outcome was that I’d be killed right now, leaving Dean with Michael and without Mary. I’m praying that he doesn’t go down that road.

“Feisty, huh? We can fix that real quick,” Nick pushed harder onto the bullet hole decorating my hip. I hissed at him. “Okay. That didn’t work… I could try something else. Something I remembered from when I was shacked up with Lucifer…”

Okay, I was wrong. Being killed wasn’t the worst scenario.

Nick ran his other hand, the one not putting pressure on my hip, down to my thing and squeezed just slightly. He started to move up, and he pressed up against me. He stopped right before he reached a place I definitely didn’t want him to touch.

“We have two options, Little Winchester. Either you give up, or I bring up some repressed memories. Some that haven’t seen the light of day since they were scarred into your pretty little head. But hey, it’s your choice.” Nick taunted.

My mind was racing a million miles per second. I felt dizzy and nauseous. I actually thought about throwing up on his shoes, but I don’t think I could aim for them. But in all seriousness, my mind was at war with itself. I didn’t want to just give up and be submissive, but I couldn’t risk being killed, or worse.

“Alright. I’ll behave. But you have to promise me something.” I said with the strongest voice I could come up with.

“And… What would that be, Hope?” Nick grinned against my ear.

“Keep Dean and Mary alive. They don’t need to be killed.” I was practically begging and he knew it.

“Okay. We have a deal.” He smiled as he took his hand off my thigh. 

I let out a sigh of relief, before suddenly being spun around and lifted over his shoulder. He turned and walked towards the van. The back door of the van was opened and I was shoved inside. I held in a cry as I somehow landed on my hip (just my luck). Next thing I knew the van doors were slammed shut, and my vision was fading fast. My last thoughts were dedicated to my brothers, praying that they’d find me or move on if they didn’t, before I blacked out entirely.

//

*2nd POV*

“-Dean, he’s going after your mom,” Donna sighed into the phone.

“He who?” Dean asked, feeling very confused yet on guard.

“Uh, some guy named Nick.” Donna finally spit out, and Dean acted immediately.

Dean ran outside after hanging up with Donna, gun in hand. He was going to find that bastard before he found Mary. He walked out of the bushes and onto the dirt road, taking a faster pace. Sticks were broken behind him, and in less than a second his gun was cocked and pointed to whoever was behind him.

“Dean! Woah, easy!” Sam yelled, clearly not wanting to get shot by his brother. “Dean, what’s going on here?”

“It’s Mom,” he rasped. “She’s gone.”

//

Mary awoke in the van, her head pounding. Her head was resting on something… soft? She slowly opened her eyes to see the ceiling of the van. She pushed herself up and turned to see Hope laying on the floor, bleeding at a steady pace.

“Oh god!” Mary yelled. “Help!”

She scanned the back for anything that could stop the bleeding. She found an old cloth and some alcohol. Perfect. After she shredded the cloth, she poured alcohol onto it and tied it tight around Hope's waist, making sure that it was covering and putting pressure on the wound. Hope shot up, eyes wide open, and fear evident in her eyes.

//

*1st POV*

I shot up, my eyes wide open, and my heart beating out of my chest. I took in a shaky breath and saw Mary leaning over me.

“Oh, thank god.” She said, tears rolling down her face.

“Hey, Mary.” I croaked out. Smiling, she helped me sit up against her.

The back door swung open, and Nick was standing there with a smirk on his face. I’m not entirely sure why he needed Mary, but I could tell that whatever the reason, it wasn’t good.

“Morning, Ladies!” Nick sang, before hopping into the back with us. Mary pushed me to the far corner, trying to get me as far away from Nick as possible. “Oh, come on, Mary! I wasn’t going to do anything… yet…” He smiled viciously.

“Alright, what do you want?” Mary asked, clearly not happy with the situation she was in.

“You know… The demons, they know where you are,” Nick said, taking a seat across from me. “They keep track of you, you and your kids. They’re sort of scared of you. So wherever you are, they’re not. So that’s how I got to Hibbing. I didn’t have an address. Luckily, that- that perky little sheriff lady- what’s her name? Deborah? Debbie? Something? Whatever. She had some emails on her cellphone talking about you and her family cabin, so here I am.” Mary just glared at him while he rambled.

“I know that’s a lot to take in, but… And if you feel like screaming, you can- you can go ahead cause we’re pretty remote…”

“Nick,” Mary started. “What are you doing?”

Nick got up suddenly and moved right next to me as I flinched. Mary looked slightly afraid, but kept it in knowing that I was watching.

“Tonya Baker,” Nick began. “Yeah, you knew her. You saved her life. Her whole girl scout troop was murdered and she was the only survivor, thanks to you. These two demons were about to finish her off, and then you came in and chased one away but you faced off against the other one, a demon named Abraxas.”

“I remember. So?” Mary snapped.

“So? Abraxas murdered my family the same way he killed those girls- bloody, brutal, slow.” Mary's face fell at his confession, and even I felt bad.

“I’m sorry, Nick,” Mary started. “But you could have just asked me. This, shooting Hope, this is cr-”

“Crazy?” Nick asked, finishing her sentence. “What would you have told me?”

“That I killed him!” Mary raised her voice. “Abraxas is dead.”

“So you would have lied to me?” My eyes widened at his statement. “You didn’t kill him, you trapped him in a box. How’d you do it?”

Mary stuttered. Nick grabbed her coat and shook her. “Tell. Me.”

“Okay, okay. We put him in an Enochian box. He’s contained.”

“Do you have him?” Nick asked, clearly done with beating around the bush.

“No… but I can take you to him.”

//

Dean and Sam were pacing, waiting for a response from Donna’s radio. Dean was beyond worried. When Sam and him got back, Dean immediately went upstairs to look for Hope. He was praying that she got back while he was sleeping, but when he opened the door to her room, she wasn’t there, and he lost it. Sam was stunned for a minute but began to worry more and more.

Eventually Donna got a trace, and they sped off to Grand Rapids.

//

We pulled up to a storage unit that, Mary said, had the box containing Abraxas. Nick pulled Mary out of the van, then me. He pulled me along as I struggled to keep up. Mary unlocked the door, and he pushed her inside first before pulling me in.

“Alright, where is it?” Nick asked. Mary remained silent. “Listen, if you tell me where it is, you and little Winchester get to walk away.”

Mary sighed, obviously struggling with her decisions.

“It’s over there.”

Nick looked around while Mary stood still.

“Where is it?” Nick asked, clearly getting angrier by the minute.

“In the lockers…” Mary said. “Too bad I don’t have the key.”

I smiled a little at how dumb she was playing. I liked her style. Nick shrugged, grabbed a machete, and chopped off the lock, moving into the room with the lockers.

“Which one?” Nick asked. Mary just shrugged, not giving him a clear answer.

Nick grunted and shoved me towards Mary. He started to chop off locks again while Mary helped me keep steady.

“Just sit here, hun. Against the lockers.” I nodded and slid down the lockers onto the floor. I was losing steam, and I didn’t know when Dean or Donna would find us. I was rooting for sooner, rather than later.

“Open the box.” Nick said as I looked up.

“Sorry, but you need a host. It can’t be you, it can’t be me,” She lifted her shirt to show her tattoo. “And, it can’t be Hope.” She lifted up my shirt so he could see the tattoo on my side.

“Well, then I’ll improvise.” Nick said, before leaving.

//

Nick walked in with the security guard from the post out front. He sat him down and pulled the bag off of his head.

“Nick don’t do this-”

“How do I open this thing?” Nick cut her off.

“I don’t know.” Mary sighed.

Nick turned around while trying to figure out the box, which gave Mary a chance to walk up behind him and kick his knees out from under him. She attempted to grab the dropped box, but Nick got back up and kicked her over while she was laying on the ground. I tried to get up and help, but everything was still spinning, and I couldn’t see who was who at this point. I was useless. So I prayed that it wasn’t too late to save us all.

“I said I could handle it!” Nick yelled as he pushed her up against the fence. Nick continued to mess with the box, but then threw it onto the ground. Nick, frustrated as ever, picked up the drill and drilled into the box. Black smoke came from the black cube and flew right into the security guards' mouth.

“Heya, Blondie.” Abraxis cooed at Mary, then looked my way. “Who’s your cute friend?”

“Why’d you kill my family?” Nick demanded.

“Have to be more specific.” Abraxis smirked, clearly messing around.

“Pike Creek, Delaware.” Nick stated, getting emotional.

“Oh. Nick. Why are you walking and talking? I thought the big man had you on lockdown.”

“He’s dead. Now, why did you kill my family?” Nick raised his voice.

“Kill her first, then we’ll talk.” Abraxas looked towards me. “Mary here locked me in a box and I hold a grudge. But I want her to suffer instead. Kill the girl nice and slow, then maybe we’ll talk.”

Nick looked at me.

“Nick,” Mary started with a grin on her face. But Nick looked serious about going through with it. And I was terrified. “Nick! Don’t do it!”

Nick walked toward me slowly, and suddenly my adrenaline kicked in. I needed to get up and run. I tried pushing myself up, but Nick picked up his pace and pounced on me. He straddled my waist as he bound my arms together.

“You ready to die, little Winchester?” Nick sneered as he prepared his knife. He lifted up the knife, and was about to drive it into my stomach, but a gunshot cut him off.

“GET AWAY FROM HER!” Sam yelled, holding Nick at gunpoint.

Nick cowered away from me, and Dean came rushing over to me. His eyes filled with rage as he released my arms and saw my bloody hip. Sam was helping Mary out of her handcuffs while I tried to stand up against the lockers.

“Hey, De.” I said weakly.

“Hey sweetheart.” Dean smiled slightly, struggling to watch me keep myself up.

“Is she okay?” Sam asked, his voice wavering.

“Not sure, Sammy.” Dean sighed. Sam rushed over and gave me a bear hug. I hissed when he held me tight against him.

“What’s wr-” Sam saw my bloody hip, and his face fell. “No, Hope…”

“I-It’s okay, Sammy. I’ll make it.” I chuckled lightly. Sam gave me a kiss on the forehead before pointing his gun at Nick again.

“What are you doing?” Sam questioned.

“What I have to.” Nick said, before grabbing a knife and scraping off a piece of the devil's trap.

“NO-” We all yelled, before being lifted into the air and slammed onto the floor. I groaned out in pain as the cloth fell off of my hip. More blood started to pour onto the floor.

“You wanna know why I killed your family? I was following orders-” Abraxas started.

“From who?” Nick pressed, not giving up.

“Who do you think? Lucifer.” Abraxas smirked.

“I-I don’t understand.” Nick stuttered. “Why me?!”

“You were chosen, but you’re not special. We threw a dart at a phone book and-”

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica-”

“Stop,” Abraxas said as he forced Dean into one of the storage shelves.

“Dean!” I coughed, looking back to make sure he was okay. He groaned and tried to push himself back up.

“So. Who dies first?” Abraxis asked, before Nick pulled his head back, forced him onto his knees, and stabbed him in the chest.

Nick got up and started swiping at anyone who would come near him. 

“Take it easy!” Sam yelled, before Donna shot him in the leg and M- mom knocked him out.

“Payback, bitch.” I choked out a quiet laugh while trying to fight the darkness from taking over.

“Hope!” Sam and Dean yelled, rushing over to me.

“You gotta stay with us, sissy. Okay?” Dean asked, trying to keep me awake.

“N-no pr-omises…” I smirked.

“Even with a bullet in your hip and at least a quarter of your blood on the floor, you’re still a pain in our asses.” Dean chuckled, trying to make light of the situation.

“I try, De.” I smiled, before slipping into the darkness.

//

I woke up to Dean by my side. I tried to sit up, but my hip was burning.

“Woah. That’s some kick.” I joked, pushing myself up to the headboard. The pain wasn’t nearly as bad, but it still hurt.

“Take it easy, kiddo.” Dean ordered, clearly not messing around. “How are you feeling?”

“Like hell, but I’ll be okay.” I tried to smile, but I just couldn’t. The fight was finally over, and somehow we won. The tears came right after, but I let them fall.

“Hey, it’s okay, sweetheart. It’s over now, I promise.” Dean climbed into the bed with me and held my head against his chest.

“H-he did so much more, De… So much more than just this.” I sobbed.

Sam quietly entered the room while Dean and I sat in silence. He sat down on my other side and kissed my head, letting me know that he was here too.

“W-when he shot me, he… He said he remembered something about me from when Lucifer was possessing him…” I stuttered, more tears flowing but I didn’t care.

“What’d he say, kiddo?” Dean asked, clearly defensive.

“H-he said that he’d use something against me if I didn’t stop fighting him… He moved his other hand to my thigh a-and…” I sucked in a breath, trying to stay calm even though everything in me wanted to scream and thrash. “He made me think he was going to touch me… He knew what had happened to m-me bef-fore… I thought he was going to r-rape me-” I sobbed, wanting to crawl out of my own skin.

“I’m gonna kill him.” Dean growled lowly, getting out of the bed and pacing the floor. “How did he know? Lucifer wasn’t even apart of that… That was another assholes fault…” Deans held his head in his hands.

Sammy comforted me as I continued to sob. My face was buried in his chest, but I didn’t care. Dean sat back down and held me.

“We’re gonna fix this, okay? We’ll get through it together. You’ll always have us. Always.” Sam choked out, trying not to lose it because he wanted to be strong for me.

“We got you, Hope. We love you.”

[letterstothemidnightsociety]

Yesterday I watched the beginnings of The Purge happening in real time and wondered where, exactly, I was, both physically and ecumenically. And since this season of The News is starting off even more ridiculous than the last year’s season, I’m not just gonna bury my feelings, I’m gonna salt and burn them. It’s Supernatural

Alright, previously on SPN, I thought we were finally ramping up on the Main Arc for season 2 and boy was I WRONG. The next few episodes clearly put the Main Quest on the back burner. Which, actually is pretty standard for Supernatural - you get a good run of quest episodes and then a switch to self-contained episodes that just sort of brush up against the season arc.

Next up is “Nightshifter” - a pretty solid stand alone episode about a guy who is definitely not robbing a bank. 

I love Chris Gauthier, our Extra of the Week. Sam really does him dirty by refusing to give him the Truth is Out There deal. I think my biggest question coming out of that whole scene is why??? I mean, cool, Sam’s worried about Ronald Reznik getting killed, I get it, but how is Ronald’s story any different from any number of hunters that they’ve met in their lives? Ronnie even has his own John Winchester Patented Murder Board™. He did do a lot of the leg work for the Winchesters, even if he wasn’t 100% right. In Sam’s defense, Ronald does die almost immediately, but he had a great run. 

You did good, kid. You did good.

More questions that I had about this episode? Special Agent Henriksen. Now don’t get me wrong, I do actually like Henriksen as an antagonist. I appreciate that the show is acknowledging just how shady hunters are. I mean, sure, they’re saving lives and killing evil sonsofbitches, blah blah blah, but also, they are regularly breaking and entering, finding dead bodies, leaving prints at crime scenes, impersonating officials, desecrating graves, not to mention that they are the last person seen with people who end up dead or missing. Like, it was only a matter of time before that came back to bite them. 

Some A+ work from Charles Malik Whitfield

But here's the thing - season 2 already has SO much going on. Like, they gotta avenge their dad and kill the yellow-eyed-demon. On top of that, they gotta keep Sammy from turning evil. Oh and also, they’ve gotta keep Sam safe from other Hunters who might think he’s turning evil, specifically Gordon. Now on top of all that we have to worry about the cops? Now it feels like you’re just throwing obstacles in their path to be a dick. Listing it out like this, it feels like season 2 is turning into a bit of a hot mess? Ok, Because I know that Henricksen comes back as a recurring antagonist, I’m maybe reading too much into it, but the next episode he recurrs in is episode 19 of this same season, so...maybe not? 

As a side note, I’m just gonna reiterate that I like Henriksen. I like him specifically because he is an Antagonist, not a Villain. Same goes for Gordon, in this season at least. They are not Villains in the traditional way this show presents Villains = Monsters. Both Gordon and Henriksen think what they are doing is for the greater good and they’re both going about it within the boundaries of their own moral codes. It’s just that those moral codes are in the way of our Protagonists, the Winchesters, and that’s actually some neat writing, so good job Season 2 Writing Team. 

Next up is “Houses of the Holy”, the first ever SPN episode about angels, and if you know anything about SPN but haven’t seen this episode (or seen this episode in a while), you will laugh out loud at this line: 

AHAH! AHAHAHAHAHA! AHAHahahah.

I will briefly point out that after this line I gave myself a sad by responding to my TV: “Do you need proof Dean? Or do you not believe in angels because that’s easier than thinking they don’t believe in you?” So you know, that’s where I’m at these days. 

And that’s basically it for this episode? I mean, there is a brief mention of the Main (???) Quest (???) when Sam talks about wanting/needing the angel to be real, as it gives him hope that he’s not all evil yet. It’s a nice piece character that comes out in a season that feels very Dean heavy in the emotions department so far. And so it does feel like a real hard let down when Sam finds out it’s not an angel, just spirit and he loses all that validation. 

Oof. That’s rough buddy.

Next up is “Born Under a Bad Sign”. On the surface, it looks like a return to the Main (???) Quest (???) but it brings me back to the question, what IS the Main Quest on this season?? IS it Sam Goes Evil? Like...shouldn’t the Main Quest still be Hunting the Yellow-Eyed-Demon? But I guess technically, Sam Goes Evil is part of the yellow-eyed-demon’s plan so stopping that from happening is stopping the yellow-eyed-demon and so technically that’s still...the Main….Quest?????????

It’s a little murky. In the same way that I think it’s smart that the Winchesters don’t defeat the yellow-eyed-demon at the end of season one, I also think it’s smart that they differentiate the through-line on season 2 from season 1, but when you pair the two seasons together it does feel like they’ve abandoned the part about defeating the Villain - the actual Villain, evil plans and twirling mustache and everything.

But then we find out that, no, no this has nothing to do with the yellow-eyed-demon, this is just Meg Being Meg. She’s not here for some grand purpose, she’s just here to dick around with the Winchesters. That bitch is powered by Murder and Spite and I love it. And I’m not gonna lie, Jared Padalecki is hecking CRUSHING Being Meg Being Sam Being Meg again. Just like, CRUSHING it.

Of course, the bigger issue at stake is, unsurprisingly, the relationship between Sam and Dean. Sam wants Dean to make good on his promise to kill Evil!Sam, and Dean just loopholes his way out of it, even when he’s shot and drowned and beat to shit. 

WHY is Dean driving in this scene? Between the head trauma and blood loss and the alcohol and whatever pills Jo gave him at the bar, he should NOT be operating heaving machinery. 

He says he’ll save Sam if it’s the last thing he does and like...he’s probably just gonna die trying? Which like...ok, sure, but also you’d end up with Evil!Sam probably taking over the world or some nonsense, so it’s not a great strategy.

On the other hand, based on Jo’s general vibe this episode, I believe that she would not hesitate to take a shot at killing an Evil!Sam and I kind of love her for it. 

That bitch is gonna do what it takes. Or you know probably just think up a better solution, she’s not so close to the situation and also she’s defs way smarter than all the Winchesters put together. 

So this episode is not about the Main Quest, not really, although it ties into the major emotional arc of the Main Quest so maybe??? It is??? Anyone???

And then to round out this disc, we have “Tall Tales”. What would Supernatural be without the one two punch of Highly Emotional Episode followed by That Funny Episode??

And “Tall Tales” is great. Jared Padalecki is, again, CRUSHING it and Jensen Ackles is so committed to that eating gag, just *chefs kissy fingers* c’est magnifique! 

I legitimately love this episode - the format is screwy, the narrators are both unreliable, DadBobby comes back. I want to complain that putting this episode in the same season as “The Usual Suspects” - another episode that breaks format - feels too soon, but you know what? You do you, guys. I love this episode and I love that the Trickster is a recurring...uhh, let’s call him another antagonist who thinks what he’s doing is for the greater good and he goes about it within the boundaries of his own moral code. Bless him he’s a delight and also he has a doggo so he can’t be all bad, right??

Also, yes, I know he turns out to be the angel Gabriel and you know what? I’m fine with that. 

I gotta say, for a quartet of standalone episodes (ok yeah, I’m officially calling “Born Under a Bad Sign” a Side Quest), these were hella solid. These are not just filler episodes, these are interesting and emotionally complex and very enjoyable. I’d argue these standalones are more interesting and enjoyable than quite a few of the standalones in season 1, so it really feels like the show is in its stride. 

This is why 20+ episode seasons are still relevant. Yeah, the throughline for the season does feel a little muddled and messy, but on an 8 or even a 12-13 episode season, you don’t get this kind of room to play and experiment and make fun of yourselves the way that SPN does. There’s all this breathing room to try new things. There’s space to introduce new characters and play with dynamics and surprise your viewers. 

A 20+ ep season is a daunting (and expensive) task, but there’s gotta be a certain amount of freedom that comes with it too. Freedom to just have fun with these characters and this world that you’ve created. I don’t mind shorter seasons - honestly, it saves me, personally, a lot of time and the writing gets sharper and tighter and better at telling the one story the show is here to tell. But I hope that, if television continues to shorten seasons, that they also allow at least a little time for standalone episodes like these. 

[halfasleepoetry]

Joe, Ben and a puppy (headcanon)

For @heybuddy-drabbles

Happy Birthday, we-only-have-one-braincell-and-eleven-hours-difference-in-timezone writing and fandom partner-in-crime. Couldn’t have asked for more. Love you.

Please please please make a HC about Joe sharing Ben's love an attention when/if(?) they get a puppy. HAHA

Joe gets Ben a Jack Russell Terrier puppy the same year they finally decided they’re moving in together (which loosely means coming back from wherever they were working/filming, to one place which is sort-of home) as their anniversary gift and Ben cries (because Ben cries at everything, isn’t this canon anyway) and tells Joe, ‘This means we are never breaking up.’

Joe replies with, ‘Good luck thinking I will ever let you out of my life.’ And that makes Ben laugh-cry, and Joe kisses him and more seriously tells him that he loves him, so much, and Ben says, ‘I love you too, you big sap, you have no idea.’

And Joe proceeds to call upon defense and explain how he is not a big sap and Ben listens to him and nods and laugh and after a while shuts him up and makes him lose his train of thought by kissing him.

Joe is glad now that Ben has Sammy to cuddle with at night whenever he’s not with Ben or goes to bed later than the blonde.

But then he realizes he kind of misses Ben’s cuddles. He doesn’t say it though.

He also starts waking up early to feed Sammy whenever Ben had a long night or just arrived at ungodly hour in the AM from wherever he was filming or attending press, etc. and he wants Ben to sleep in as much as possible.

He’ll sigh, barely awake and tell Sammy, ‘You’re lucky I love your papi this much.’

Ben does everything with Sammy. Swimming, taking naps, running/walking at the park.

So what does Sammy do with Joe? Go for drives, that’s what. Sammy also has the same cute habit like his papi. A bit of wind in his face, steady drive on a long road and he’d fall asleep like a baby. Joe would end up taking a pic and sending it to Ben and Ben would reply with, ‘Have I never told you how much I worry about your driving habits?’

Joe would reply, ‘No. You and Sammy just end up sleeping every time.’

‘Just keep your eyes on the road, love, please.’

Joe would listen, for like, 10 minutes. Then he would start taking random, funny pics of him and Sammy and send them to Ben anyway.

Another thing Sammy likes to do is to stand on any possible surface on Joe’s body whenever he is lying down on his back or stomach, reading or scrolling through his phone, or sitting and typing away on his Macbook. Said surfaces include but not limited to: shoulder blades, along the spine, chest, torso. The best is when Joe is sitting at his work desk and Sammy could stand up on the back of his neck and shoulder blades so it gives him a good vantage point to look outside the window and bird watch.

Sammy loves bird watching. So much so that Ben notices one or two that would actually be comfortable enough to land and stay near Sammy while the pup just sits and watches them. Once, he fell asleep watching them, and that’s when Ben and Joe decided they need a bird bath and a bird feeder in their backyard. Sammy has never been so overjoyed in his life when the birds start coming by more regularly.

Sometimes Joe likes to jokingly say Sammy is Ben in a pup form. He rarely ever leaves any of them alone (except for maybe when he bird watches). He gets excited and jump in when they’re sitting together/cuddling/kissing on the couch/in bed and Ben had to actually put him in another room/outside to play/bird watch otherwise they would never be left alone to have some time to themselves and get frisky (ahem).

As much as Ben spoils him (he carries Sammy around like a baby and talks to him like he’s one too sometimes - Joe does neither) it is actually Joe that Sammy knows he could get away with most things, because generally Joe reacts to Sammy’s behaviour in real-time and is none the wiser about what have actually happened previously. For example, Ben might have fed Sammy breakfast, but he’d come to Joe, who could be doing work at his desk, generally pretty oblivious to his surrounding, and sits down on the floor and places his head on Joe’s feet, making a sad face and whimpering ever so slightly. After a while, Joe would ask him what does he want? Is he hungry? Want a treat? And that’s how Sammy ends up eating multiple times in a day and gets away with it.

But Ben notices this eventually, and they start having a Sammy feeding chart at home where they tick completed mealtime for Sammy so they don’t overfeed the pup. Joe still usually ends up being the one giving him more treats anyway, because he can’t look at Sammy’s literal puppy-eyes and does nothing about it.

Like Ben, Sammy also has no chill and is possessive af. He doesn’t like it when papi or dad doesn’t want to play with him or do something with him, and he dislikes it the most when people he doesn’t know come too close to either papi or dad and gets touchy-feely with them.

But he loves kids. Probably as much as he loves birds, if not more. The best thing after going to the park and running around playing with any kids who wants to play with him there, is going to one of those Mazzellos’ lunches/barbecues/get-together where he gets to play all day long with the kids, and the first time they brought Sammy to the Mazzello family house, the kids don’t clamber all over uncle Joe or drag uncle Ben to play ball with them too much/for too long. They love playing with Sammy because he’s a smart boy who adapts himself to any game they’re playing, and even sits down all prim and proper when the girls decide they want to play tea party and never touches their dolls or teddy bears whenever they play pretend house or picnic with them.

Sammy would also be the catalyst of ‘are they or aren’t they?’ question surrounding their relationship. They don’t parade their relationship, confirm anything or appear in any event as a couple, so sometimes when they’re promoting a new movie (either as actor or director) they get asked this and their answer is always the same, they don’t discuss their private lives.

Joe never thought he would ever have a dog in his house, clean (after) him, feed him, play with him, bring him to the vet, generally does everything a dog owner does (just with less Sammy-is-a-baby behaviour/attitude like Ben), but then again he never thought he’d have a boyfriend that he’d be in a long-term relationship with, so sometimes he tells Sammy ‘I’m lucky to have you and your papi in my life,’ when Ben isn’t anywhere within earshot to hear him.

[mittensmorgul]

I wrote this post about 4.22 back on June 21, 2019, about two months after 14.20 aired, and before we began getting any real information about s15 other than our own headcanons:

https://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/185754144990/422-lucifer-rising-kinda-says-it-all-right

Go read that. It’s not very long.

*sigh* fine if you don’t wanna take five whole minutes, here’s the tl;dr:

But really, do we believe that anything they did could’ve altered the result of this season? Just as Dean had been confined to Hell until he broke that first seal, I don’t believe that anything could’ve prevented Sam from breaking that final seal. Because this is just another one of those scenarios where if Chuck wanted it to happen, it would’ve happened, no matter what they did to prevent it.

Aah, 14.20, you are a beautiful thing… Chuck likes everyone to think they’re entirely relying on their own will to succeed or fail, but when push comes to shove, he’s perfectly willing to snap his fingers and make the universe what he wants… and heck, isn’t that both terrifying and incredible? Because in the face of that unimaginable power, TFW still stands up and fights. Go team!

I just watched 4.21 and 4.22 again, with an additional 10 episodes of s15 for fuller context, and I’ve come to an even grander conclusion.

To Chuck, the Author™ of this whole story, s4 was his Moment Of Perfection. This was the one and only time his story, in his eyes, worked perfectly. He got everything he wanted, even with the last minute attempt by Dean and Cas to fight against the story they were apparently destined to fulfill, because it’s what Chuck had written. It was a super close thing, though. It nearly failed. If Cas had broken a few minutes sooner, if Sam had responded to Dean banging on the door of the chapel rather than giving in to Lilith’s taunts and Ruby’s goading, Chuck’s apocalypse never would’ve gotten off the ground.

All because Dean (and Cas...) had learned just enough to show them the TRUE choice they hadn’t realized they even had all season long. They could’ve chosen not to play the game. They could’ve chosen to stick together instead of fighting amongst themselves. They could’ve chosen... not to act. But they’d been so busy fighting amongst themselves over which one of them was right and which was wrong, thinking they actually understood the big picture at play here when they’d all been hopelessly led into the weeds for exactly this purpose, that they failed to realize just how badly they’d been manipulated.

In s5, they were still distracted by that manipulation. Chuck just... never let up on them. He zapped them from the Lucifer Rising spot onto an airplane, Dean angry at Sam for all of it-- letting himself buy into the poisoned narrative of s4, drinking demon blood and hiding it from him, lying about his powers and his plots with Ruby, freeing Lucifer and starting the apocalypse... all of it--, Sam feeling guilty like he has to atone for that failure, demons and angels both continuing to mess with them, Cas exiled from heaven for having rebelled... and then they start having to face Revelation come to life and Sam and Dean are nothing more than the destined meatsuits for Lucifer and Michael to wear to do the Big Armageddon Tango, and there’s no time to sit down and consider what’s actually going on, what the reason for all this mess is, and who might actually want it all to happen.

From 5.01 on, though... Chuck’s narrative began falling apart. Mostly in little ways, at first. And he still got the bittersweet “one brother sacrificed to save the world while the other endures while bearing the weight of the sacrifice alone” ending he thinks is actually satisfying in any way (what a fucking dumbass edgelord, amirite?)... until he didn’t because Cas refused to let Sam’s sacrifice stand as-is. So Chuck kept writing, kept interfering, kept pushing for endless retellings of his favored narrative in a vain attempt to finally “get it right,” to either wear down TFW until they capitulated and let his ending stand, or until they stumbled hard enough to tumble headfirst into his ending anyway. 

But there’s one thing Chuck NEVER factored into his favored narrative. The fact that he couldn’t un-ring the bell, couldn’t un-teach the lesson they all learned in s4. Namely, that Destiny™ is a great big pile of shit, and they aren’t completely powerless against it as long as they understand the truth of it. They know now, the full extent of Chuck’s manipulation, and they’re so shaken at the midseason point of 15 that they don’t know what to believe anymore.

Were they ever the heroes? Was everything they’ve achieved up to this point just “luck?” or worse, Chuck’s direct involvement in their lives making them into the heroes? Because down that road, along that sort of train of thought, lies madness. Hopelessness. Because how do you ever stand a chance of winning your way free from a story you have very little control over, and zero real power to resist? It drives them to make desperate choices, or to believe they have no other choice.

And for YEARS, literal actual years, I’ve been saying there’s no worse phrase on this show... we didn’t have a choice.

And in 15.10, they resorted to that old chestnut several times...

I think this manipulation goes back even further in the narrative, too. The terrible ultimatum Dean was given by John’s dying wish in 2,01. John, the consummate Chuck mirror, his last words to Dean have honestly shaped the rest of the narrative that’s come after--

You either have to Save Sammy, or you’ll have to kill him...

Because that’s what Chuck has been trying to force them to do since the start.

One brother kills the other.

That’s his story.

That’s his self-defense argument he’s been attempting to justify over and over again, through every iteration of the universe, both because he needs to feel “Big,” that he needs to feel powerful, but also because he needs to feel that HE did the “right thing,” locking up Amara so that he could create unhindered by her very existence in creation nullifying his perceived place in it.

As above, so below, and by gum he’s gonna keep forcing his narrative until he gets the ending he wants, even if he has to break all of reality to get it for himself. He will NOT be defied in this.

God was really, honestly, never on their side.

Only, Chuck refuses to accept that Sam and Dean (and Cas...) have never, ever, been on his side, either.

Through each new attempt to manipulate his desired ending out of them, TFW have endured. They’ve learned a little bit more. They’ve progressively made it harder and harder for Chuck to get the ending he wants from them, to the point he’s now entirely laser-focused on forcing them to capitulate to his will, directly, using the full force of his creative power to bring it about. And I think that will ultimately prove to be Chuck’s downfall... breaking himself because puny human free will and LOVE will prove a more powerful cosmic force than his own self-obsessive narrative.