#saving people hunting things; sam | descendants

[losers-clvb]

mayor's banquet // sam winchester

pairing: sam winchester x female!reader

summary: you and sam do not get along. after a hunt where you're put in danger, you're forced to come to terms with the fact that you two are more compatible than you think.

content: enemies to sort of lovers, canon typical violence, arguing, maybe out of character sam and dean, use of y/n

word count: 1.9k

note: this is the first of two parts. i have only watched up until season 5 so bear with me if it's out of character. also, keep in mind it's quite unedited. the second part of this will contain smut.

----

God, Sam Winchester infuriated you.

It had begun when you had met the boys. Bobby had been training you as a hunter, something that had been your birthright through your mother before she was killed. You were needed on a particular case in Arkansas when you were introduced to the Winchester boys. Dean had, with slight persuasion from Bobby, accepted you with open arms. Sam on the other hand had been slow to even acknowledge you. It was disheartening when you realized it was because of his lack of trust in your hunting abilities. He didn't want to have someone inexperienced to look after when they were already trying find a way to save Dean. Sam had been short with you, opting most times to just ignore your questions rather than answer them. Eventually you did the same. After the hunt in Arkansas it was clear to Dean that you would be useful to them, plus you usually sided with him over Sam.

That brought you where you were now, the three of you checking into a motel. You had gotten a suggestive smirk from the attendant at the desk when checking in. She obviously thought the three of them had some less than innocent things planned. It wasn't the first time and would certainly not be the last. It was routine at this point. Check in, Sam and Dean got the beds, you would sleep on the couch. When Dean opened the door to the room however, there was no couch. This hadn't happened yet, though you haven't been with the boys for more than a few months. You simply stared into the room with brows furrowed. Dean came up behind you and let out a small laugh before talking.

"Guess you're sleeping with me tonight sweetheart." Dean smirked before moving past you. You followed after him with a look of faux annoyance. Dean meant well, even if he had tried to get in your pants the first time you hunted together. Now, you were more of a cousin to him, not quite as close as him and Sam, yet closer than most people he knew. You shuffled in after him before throwing your bag onto the bed. You sat next to it as you watched Sam trail in. Your eyes were stormy as you dared him to argue with you about anything. It was rare that the two of you hadn't been at each other's throats yet. Sam held your eye contact until he passed you. It seemed he wasn't in the mood for a fight right now.

----

A few hours later, you were sat in a bar with Dean next to you. You were sipping on a beer while listening to Sam speak about the details of the case. A string of mysterious deaths had made your trio suspect demon possession, or possibly a witch. Something other than human had caused this to happen. Sam had discovered the history of the town had held similar deaths to these.

"Every 100 years, 10 residents of this town have been found dead. All found to be victims of some sort of sacrifice." Sam spoke to them both but only looked at Dean. You looked over the flyer that was laying on the table top. It was advertising a town banquet hosted by the mayor's family. The same mayor that had descended from one of the town's founders. The dots were connecting in your head as Sam spoke again.

"And guess which family kept showing up every century?" He asked before speaking again, obviously not expecting an answer.

"The Wilson family." He raised his eyebrows with the last word. It was obvious he thought the family had something to do with this. You just kept staring at the flyer, trying to figure out why the faces on it seemed so familiar. Something was ticking in the back of your mind. It was one of the things you and Sam had in common. Too smart for your own good. If you had asked Dean, that was why the two of you never got along. You and Sam were practically the same person, and when you fought with him, it was like fighting with yourself. Neither of you would admit to this, not wanting to admit that you had anything in common with each other. But it was still the truth.

"My great grandmother was here." You said, causing the Winchester brothers to pause. They both turned to you with twin looks of confusion. Your eyes stayed on the flyer.

"100 years ago, she was one of the last sacrifices." You continued, feeling yourself trying to swallow the words down.

"It was what my mother was searching for when she died. She was waiting for this time to come around again." You sighed, looking up at the boys.

"This family, they never die. They're immortal, and the only time they can be killed is in between the first and last sacrifice."

Sam broke his gaze from you after your last word, counting the names in his head. Dean scoffed before taking another swig of his beer.

"There's been 7 deaths, which means our window to kill them is closing fast." Sam said. You thought for a moment how best to go about the situation when another beer was placed in front of you. Your eyes shot up to the bartender, a skinny man who only pointed to the corner of the room. You looked over, seeing a table of men around your age. One raised his own beer to you with a flirty smile. You smiled back before turning back around. You looked to Sam and Dean again, who wore very different expressions on their faces. Dean looked proud of you, as if it was the first time you had been flirted with. Sam, however, looked pissed. You knew it was because of the case and he didn't want any distractions, but it still made you angry to see it. Acting on impulse, you stood from your chair and walked to the table. The man met you halfway, leaning on the empty table near the two of you.

"Hey pretty girl." He said suavely. You leaned next to him, only a step away from him.

"Hey yourself." You responded. You felt eyes on you from every direction and you knew on pair of them belonged to Sam. That pushed you further, knowing it would only make him angrier, even if you had a plan.

"You're new to town? I'm sure I would have remembered you." The stranger said as he leaned in closer, eyes darting over your shoulder.

"Just passing through. Was there a reason for your generosity, or is that how you greet all newcomers?"

The man chuckled as your question, still looking over your shoulder.

"Well, certainly not how I treat everyone." He paused before turning his gaze back to you. "The Mayor's Banquet, are you going?"

You thought for a minute while letting your eyes trail up his body.

"Maybe." You replied shortly, knowing where he was going with this.

"Go with me." The man said in a way that told you he thought you were wrapped around his finger. You got the sense he was used to getting his way. Guess that's how it was when you were the mayor's son.

"I don't even know your name." You laughed out, resting a hand on the table. You weren't about to give in so easily, trying to not make him suspicious. He had been the one to ask you to the banquet, but you were the one who needed it. It was the only way to get close enough to the family.

"George. George Wilson." He spoke, though you already knew this information. You smiled and moved closer, close enough that your feet were touching. George placed his hand on top of yours. It was freezing cold. Bone-chillingly cold. You looked down where your hands met, then looked back up at him. You smiled and bit your bottom lip.

"Well, I suppose I was looking for a date." You answered before leaning into him. "I'll meet you outside this bar at 7." You whispered in his ear before leaving him. You made sure to sway your hips as you walked, trying your best to look seductive. That was the best way to go about things.

You made your way back to your seat while ignoring the looks from Sam and Dean. Once you had gathered your jacket and purse, you looked at them. They still held the same looks they had when you were given the beer. You shrugged before walking out of the bar, hoping they would follow.

----

"What the hell was that about?" Dean asked as he walked into the motel room. You had arrived only 5 minutes before and were in the process of readying yourself for bed. You looked up at him from your bag.

"I have a plan." You replied, looking at Sam as he walked in. He looked just as angry as he had at the bar. You narrowed your eyes at him when he scoffed and shook his head.

"And what was the plan? Find someone to sleep with while the residents of this town die?"

"Sammy!" Dean exclaimed, turning in shock to his younger brother. Sam's words made you whip around and stalk towards him. You jabbed a finger in his chest.

"You haven't heard a word yet and you're already doubting me. If you kept your mouth shut for longer than 3 seconds you might have found out that was the mayor's son. You might be interested to know that I'm his date to the banquet, his date who will be able to get him alone a room where you two will be waiting with weapons." You growled out through gritted teeth. You watched as realization crossed his face. You knew he was too stubborn to admit he was completely wrong, so you moved away from him to continue what you were doing. Sam and Dean began to do the same, moving about the room.

"How were you so sure that was him?" Dean asked, still eyeing his brother in annoyance. You stopped again and kept your eyes on your bag.

"I spent my childhood looking at those pictures. Everything. I have their faces memorized." You threw your bag to the ground and crawled under the cold blankets. You waited for Dean to crawl in beside you before turning the light out. You felt the heat coming off of Dean and smiled. You were still freezing from George's touch.

----

A thump on your shoulder woke you. At first, you thought the worst. Demons, vampires, anything that was sent to kill you. Then, you felt a kick. You turned your head slowly to look over at Dean. Apparently, he moved in his sleep. You would wait it out, maybe he would stop after a few minutes.

Those minutes came and went and Dean was still moving. You sighed, eyeing Sam’s bed. Maybe you could get him to switch.

No. You knew he wouldn’t move. He might not even wake up. Or he would wake up and tell you to fuck off.

It was a quick decision. You would just sneak into his bed and hopefully wake up before him. He wouldn’t even notice, right? Plus, you were still shivering and Dean’s moving kept the bed cold. You pulled yourself onto your feet and tiptoed over to the side of Sam’s bed. Slipping under the covers was easy with Sam sleeping on one side of the bed. You closed your eyes and fell asleep with Sam’s warmth enveloping you.

[winchesterride]

For me, Dean really does want Sam to marry a beautiful woman, have two and a half kids and a white fancy apple pie life. But at the same time he doesn’t wanna be alone. Because he doesn't know how to.

Dean grew up with the need to protect Sam, and unlike Sam, he never tried to make friends at school, he didn’t entered any clubs either.

The closest he got to have friends was at Sonny's home, that ended up with him giving up that sense of comununity. And I don’t blame him for not trying again since his family would always be above them.

Plus he didn’t had the step of independence that happens when the kids leave for college. Sam had that, and lived four years on his own. But Dean didn’t.

Not saying Dean can't get by on his own. He can. He practically raised Sam. He took care of Lisa and Ben. He doesn’t need someone to take control of his life or to tell him what to do, but he need to have someone by his side.

That evolves with him never having a close friend his age during the series. He bonds easily and he even think of people like Jody, Donna, Charlie, Garth... as family, but none of them are geographically close to him. They all have their own lives and lives pretty far from him.

Then there's castiel, but castiel is not Dean's friends, he's Dean and Sam's friend. Even with the initial bickering, their friendship started at the same time and they alway hang out together, so being alone with castiel means Sam's missing (like when they argued in 5x03), plus castiel also miss Sam and they inevitably end up talking bout him, what's not really helpful.

He had a neighbor friend during his time with Lisa but that guy didn't really knew him, not the real him. I think the closer he got to having a close friend was with Benny. For the first time he was on his own since castiel had vanished to avoid the leviathans getting them, and then he meets Benny, that can be seen as a hunter and shows him loyalty. And owns his loyalty back when he saves castiel. And diferente form the samcasdean dynamics, the three of them weren't a group, was people learning to live with each other. And even better, when Benny came back he didn’t have a life, if that inicial misunderstanding between him and Sam hadn't left to look for his descendant, he could be leaving in Lebanon and going out to drink with Sam (not to hunt though, that's samdean stuff) and share their misery. But that's not how things went, Benny died to save Sam. What just proves to Dean that he was the better friend he could had find (the kind that was willing to die in order to save his brother).

And even before his death, Benny had left to find and kill his creator and Dean didn’t go with him to go back to Sam, because castiel was gone and Sam was all he had. So of course he saw the woman as a threat as someone that would steal his brother especially after learning he didn’t look for him (for good reasons that he never asked and Sam never said).

Then there's the final point where Sam goes to see Amelia and Dean gives him the option to leave, some people says he was testing Sam, but I think he was being honest and that if he was really gone Dean would go back with what he said to Benny and would've used him as a substitute. And inevitably go back to Sam.

But anyways, way too long post. Dean is lonely, he has no one but his brother and I don't think he'd ever have. Even trying, he would go back to Sam.

[alleiradayne]

In Through The Out Door | Art Master Post

Castiel was dead. Again. And it was all Dean's fault.

After failing to drink himself into an early grave, Dean finds a little resolve to pick himself back up and do the right thing: save people. With Sam and Jack by his side, and a little help from a few other survivors, they take on Chuck, restore the world, the multiverse, and everything's back to the way it oughta be.

Everything but Castiel, that is.

Dean clings to a death wish five miles wide after that. And he gets that wish, dying on a hunt. But the worst is yet to come when he wakes up and finds himself in the Empty. And he's not alone.

Chapter 2

Summary: Sam and Jack return to the Bunker from Hibbing and find Dean alone in the archives. Warnings/Tags: Trauma, trauma, trauma Characters/Pairings: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Jack Word Count: 2690

“No answer?”

Sam met Jack’s concerned stare over his shoulder as he shoved his phone into his pocket. Four times. He’d tried to call Dean four times in the last hour, sent at least ten text messages, but no response. Something must have happened. The drive back from Hastings in Eileen’s car had allowed Sam far too much time to reach the worst conclusions. So he picked up his pace, long strides heading for the Bunker’s main door. “No,” he finally replied.

“I’m…” Jack stuttered the start of a few thoughts before settling on an apology. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop it, I tried to…”

His voice faded away as a memory tugged at Sam’s attention. He allowed it to take hold, and it flashed before his mind’s eye, recalling a moment from the silo in Hastings. Jack leaned over a cot and reached for a cracked warding sigil. Beside the paint, a vibrant green vine protruding from the stone shriveled as Jack’s hand neared it.

“Sam?”

He cleared his head with a shake, then started down the stairs. “It’s uh…”

“Are you alright?” Jack asked as Sam pushed the heavy door aside.

“Y-yeah,” Sam stuttered, concentrating on the ladder as he descended. At the bottom, he waited for Jack, then spoke. “Look, it’s not your fault. All that matters is you’re here.” He turned and opened the interior door. “That has to count for…” His voice caught in his throat as the widening entrance revealed a dim red, blinking light. “Something.”

Jack followed right on his heels. “What happened?”

The Bunker’s red emergency lights glowed, and a single dot on the situation map—smack in the center of the lower 48—flashed a slow pulse, off and on again in perpetuity.

Sam reached for the small of his back and withdrew his pistol, raising the Taurus just below his shoulders at arm’s length. Gotta be quick now. Not hasty. But quick. He descended the stairs, scanning the room as he went. “I don’t know,” he replied when Jack caught up with him at the bottom. “Clearly something. Dean?!”

His voice echoed through the war room uninterrupted. Bile rose in his throat, and he shuddered, swallowing thickly. Then he filled his lungs with a deep, clarifying breath. Focus. No time to waste. With his weapon at the ready, he darted through the war room only to skid to a halt as he caught a glimpse of something shining—something wet—on the table. Jack stumbled into his back with a grunt.

“What’s going on?”

Sam pointed to the table, then leaned over it. “There’s something here,” he began. Water? Too thick. Blood? Too… bright?

“What is it?” Jack asked.

The red emergency lights illuminated the viscous liquid briefly with each beat. Dammit, he could hardly see anything. Sam looked to the cabinets and drawers on the far wall, then rounded the end of the table. “I’m not sure,” he replied, remembering Jack’s question. He wrenched open a drawer and withdrew a flashlight, turning it on with a flick of his thumb.

Bright white flashed across the droplets of crimson dotting the near edge of the war table. Sam returned to it, looming over the glass and reaching out, only to rear back at the last moment. Brilliant blue veins rippled through the ichor, and Jack gasped as he pointed.

“Is that… Castiel’s blood?”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’ve seen his blood enough times to know it doesn’t do that.”

“Then whose is it?” Jack pressed. “Another angel…” He paused, eyes wide and jaw dropping as he looked up to Sam. “Billie.”

Shit. “She must have come back. C’mon,” he said as he headed for the southern hallway, and Jack followed. At the bottom of the steps, he darted for the kitchen and leaned over the threshold. “Nothing here,” he said over his shoulder. “Let’s go check the dorms.”

Jack nodded, his frown twisting deeper. Sam wanted nothing more than to comfort him, to reassure him none of what had happened was his fault. But there was no time. So he turned and headed for the dorms, the furthest hallway feeling miles away. He wanted to run, to sprint towards Dean’s room. But panicking accomplished nothing. If anything, that sort of recklessness could only lead to mistakes. And with so many variables facing him, Sam knew he could not afford even one misstep.

Dean’s door hung ajar, nothing but darkness beyond the threshold. “Dean?” he called out. Silence responded, and so, he pressed on, swinging the door wide and flipping on the light. Jack darted under his arm and entered first, scanning the room. “He’s not here,” he said, crestfallen. “Where do you think they went? They said they were going to confront Billie. Do you think they made it back?”

The alternative wasn’t an option as far as Sam was concerned. “They had to have made it back.” Did he say that to convince himself? “But something happened here in the Bunker. Something that tripped the power grid. We should check the archives. That’s where the door to Billie’s library was when I went there…” He turned back into the hallway and Jack followed silently but for his shuffling feet.

A bright red emergency light at the end of the hallway flared its metered repetition, a beacon leading them along their path. As they traversed the Bunker’s warren-like halls, his mind wandered. If they found nothing in the archive, the garage was the next best bet. Then the armory. The least likely place would be the locker rooms, but by then they would need to stabilize the power grid. And if they couldn’t get the Bunker back up to at least half-power in a reasonable amount of time—

“Sam.”

Jack had grabbed his shoulder and pulled him up short. He turned to him and found a disconcerting frown. Then Sam realized they were just shy of the archive suite. “What—what is it?”

Jack pointed to the entrance several feet away. “There’s smoke. Or dust.”

Sam squinted against the pulsing red, swinging his flashlight to the threshold. And then he saw it, the lingering cloud floating just above the floor as it rolled across their path. He turned back to Jack and motioned for silence as he nodded towards the anomaly. Jack acknowledged him, then together they crept along the same wall, and Sam pulled the hammer back on his Taurus. When he reached the intersection, he leaned over the edge as discreetly as he could, only to jump back from what he found.

The nearest door on the left lay in splinters scattered amongst brick and plaster, its frame completely obliterated. He darted into the suite, cursing along the way. If Dean had used that god damned grenade launcher again—

“Dean?! Cas?!”

A massive pile of painfully large cinder blocks, splintered wood, shards of metal, and mounds of plaster had nearly filled the room. A burst pipe rained down water in the far corner, and electrical sparks crackled in the other. There was no telling what had happened from the destruction alone. It could have been any number of the horrible things his imagination conjured up. But he ignored it all and pressed on, climbing over the ruined entry. Jack struggled right behind him, and called out again. “Dean?! Are you in here?!”

He had almost missed it. So focused on the monumental disaster—and the terrifying possibility that Dean lay beneath it—Sam had barely caught the muffled response from the nearby corner on his right. He wheeled about and found Dean sitting in a tiny bare space on the floor. Plaster dust and debris covered him from head to toe and he looked nothing short of a ghost. Streaks ran from his bloodshot eyes like tiny rivulets through the thick, white mask.

Questions later. He had a million of them. But at least Dean was alive. “Give me a hand, Jack,” he said as he pointed, stowing his Taurus. “Get under his arm and we’ll take him to the infirmary.”

Together, they navigated the debris, then hefted Dean to his feet, throwing his arms over their shoulders. Hoarse muttering ran like an open faucet from him, words Sam strained to hear, to piece together, but he could hardly make sense of it. Gently, he guided Dean towards the door, and just as they reached the threshold, Sam’s foot connected with something protruding from the bricks. He recognized it instantly, bent down, and unburied the handle.

Billie’s scythe rose from the wreckage, gripped in Sam’s fist. Dean seemed to hardly notice, still rambling despite his raw throat, and so Sam pulled them up short. “Hold on, Jack, I think he’s hurt. What are you trying to say, Dean?”

“I couldn’t—stop him…” Dean grimaced—against pain or his words?—then shook his head. “I couldn’t stop him.”

Sam shot Jack a sidelong look, then started them out again. “Him who? And stop what?”

“Cas,” Dean croaked as they turned the corner. “I couldn’t stop him. From ending it.”

Jack adjusted Dean’s arm across his shoulder, then asked, “What happened when you went to Billie’s library?”

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but before he spoke, a loud clunk echoed through the Bunker. They stumbled to a halt as the pulsing red lights winked out, plunging them into darkness but for Sam’s flashlight. It shot a bright beam down the hallway, illuminating the doorways at the far end. That passage stretched impossibly far, as if to pull the infirmary further away.

“Sam?”

Jack’s voice echoed, pulling Sam up from his dismay. He adjusted Dean’s weight and turned them around. “Let’s just get him to his room,” he directed to Jack. Then he asked Dean, “Did you find Billie?”

Regret soured his stomach the moment the words left Sam’s mouth. Dean’s pained sigh confirmed it. “Yeah. She kicked the shit out of us. But…”

But what? “How did you get… did you kill her?”

No answer. Sam led them through the study, then into the dormitory hallway, and eventually, to Dean’s room. Once there, they helped Dean toward his bed. All the while, Dean muttered to himself, something about “preventing it” and “my fault”. When they set him down, Dean slumped onto the mattress, hunched over and head hanging between his shoulders. Aside from that, he appeared no worse for wear. No blood, no open wounds, no broken bones. He was, however, gripping his bicep just beneath his left shoulder, clutched to his ribs, but he had held onto Sam without issue the entire way to his room. So as far as Sam was concerned, there was nothing wrong with him physically.

Except for his eyes. Those wide, red eyes staring off into the middle distance said it all, more than words could. Something seriously terrible had happened. And given Castiel’s absence…

“Start from the top,” Sam suggested with a breath. “You and Cas got back to the Bunker…”

Jack returned—when had he left?—with an electric lantern and a steaming washcloth. He set the lantern on the bedside table and handed Dean the rag. Dean lifted his hand to take it, but then he froze. That distant, glazed look in his eyes returned, and he said, “We went straight to the archives. For the door. And she was ready. She jumped us right after we split up. It was such a stupid fucking idea…”

His voice trailed off as he slowly shook his head. Clarity returned to his wide stare, refocusing on the washcloth. Steam coiled in wispy tendrils as he unraveled the fabric. Then he stood, crossed the room, and despite the dim lantern light, attempted to use the mirror at his sink as he began to clean his face. Deliberate passes removed the mask of plaster, but he froze halfway through. His stare widened, just a fraction, and he looked between Sam and Jack in the mirror as if seeing them for the first time. “Why are you here? Where are the apocalypse folks?”

Sam shared a sour look with Jack, then said, “Billie. She uh… she took them. Reaped everyone but Jack and me.”

“D… Donna, too?” Dean asked, his brow furrowing.

“Yeah, only Jack and I made it out,” Sam said. “Why?”

Dean shook his head. “It wasn’t Billie,” he started. “When she found us, she said it was me she was after. Only me. I put the final nail in her coffin when I sliced her with her scythe in the war room, remember?” He paused to continue wiping off his face. “And when she had me cornered, dead to rights, I called her ass out. Pinned Eileen’s dis…” He hesitated as he considered Sam once more, then rephrased. “I told her that the blood of everyone that had disappeared was on her hands, and she denied it. No hesitation.”

Eileen. Sam ground his teeth so hard, he was surprised he had any left. No, no distractions. He couldn’t afford them. Shit. He shook his head to clear the fog. Focus on the problem. Billie. If it wasn’t her reaping nearly everyone he’d ever loved, then…

“Chuck,” Jack said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It was him all along.”

“You think so?” Sam asked.

Jack frowned, then shrugged halfheartedly. “Billie had no reason to reap Donna. She never cheated death. She’s from this universe. So why reap her?”

“That’s… a good point,” Sam started. “But what happened after that?” He turned back to Dean. “Billie had you ‘dead to rights’?”

With his face wiped clean, Dean dropped the washcloth in the sink, then shuffled back to his bed. That distant, faroff look returned, and he shrank, shoulders rounding and head sinking between them as he sat. He cowered as if to protect himself from something, some physical threat only he perceived. Sam couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen him so terrified, so… defeated. But then it hit him like a ton of bricks. Sam remembered the exact moment when he had last seen Dean so resigned...

“Dean?” he prompted, far more terse than he had intended. “What. Happened?”

For a moment, Sam worried he had not heard him. But then Dean straightened, spine stiff and chin raised. “I… he…” He swallowed thickly, and his eyes roamed the ceiling as though searching for the right words. But they never came. He breathed in deeply, held it. When he opened his mouth to speak, only a gruff sigh escaped, and a dark grimace contorted his face. He shook his head, ground his jaw, and his shoulders shook with the effort of continuing. He had to, Sam knew. But if he said the words, then that would make it true. Sam also knew Dean refused to believe it.

The next breath rattled through Dean’s throat, and then he spoke.

“He saved me—” His voice cracked under the strain, and he gave up. He dropped his head into his hands, fingers burying in his hair, and he began to sob silently. His shoulders shook and he gripped his hair, pulling. Anchoring.

Sam understood. Without a single shred of doubt, he knew what had happened.

Castiel was dead. Again.

“C’mon, Jack,” Sam started as he turned to the door. “Let’s… go get the power grid back up.”

They stepped into the hallway together, Jack ahead of Sam. His flashlight led the way, bobbing aimlessly. As he passed from view, Sam took one last furtive look at Dean, and his heart sank. Numb. Sam knew that feeling. Like there was no point. There was nothing left worth fighting for. Might as well pack it in right then and there.

But he knew Dean wouldn’t. That wasn’t the Winchester way. 

Sam turned back down the hallway then. He had to focus. One thing at a time. Power grid. Dean. Castiel. Jack. In that order. They’d fix it. They always did, they always figured it out. Beat the odds. He had an entire occult library at his fingertips, there had to be something there.

But all Sam could manage was putting one foot in front of the other.

So baby steps then. Power grid first.

This series is complete! Reblogs are loved and feedback is welcome!

In Through The Out Door | Art Master Post

[tomorrowedblog]

Friday Releases for October 4

Friday is the busiest day of the week for new releases, so we've decided to collect them all in one place. Friday Releases for October 4 include Joker: Folie à Deux, Frankie Freako, The Outrun, and more.

Joker: Folie À Deux

Joker: Folie À Deux, the new movie from Todd Phillips, is out today.

“Joker: Folie À Deux” finds Arthur Fleck institutionalized at Arkham awaiting trial for his crimes as Joker. While struggling with his dual identity, Arthur not only stumbles upon true love, but also finds the music that’s always been inside him.

Frankie Freako

Frankie Freako, the new movie from Steven Kostanski, is out today.

After calling a late-night party hotline that promises out-of-this-world fun, uptight yuppie Conor Sweeney must battle the pint-sized forces of evil unleashed through his phone line, led by the maniacal rock n’ roll goblin FRANKIE FREAKO.

The Outrun

The Outrun, the new movie from Nora Fingscheidt, is out today.

After living life on the edge in London, Rona attempts to come to terms with her troubled past. She returns to the wild beauty of Scotland’s Orkney Islands — where she grew up — hoping to heal.

It’s What’s Inside

It’s What’s Inside, the new movie from Greg Jardin, is out today.

A group of friends gather for a pre-wedding party that descends into an existential nightmare when an estranged friend arrives with a mysterious game that awakens long-hidden secrets, desires, and grudges.

Krazy House

Krazy House, the new movie from Steffen Haars and Flip Van der Kuil, is out today.

Set in the 1990s, Krazy House follows religious homemaker Bernie and his sitcom family. When Russian workers in Bernie’s house turn out to be wanted criminals, Bernie has to man up and save his imprisoned family, while slowly going crazy.

Look Back

Look Back, the new movie from Kiyotaka Oshiyama, is out today.

Popular, outgoing Fujino is celebrated by her classmates for her funny comics in the class newspaper. One day, her teacher asks her to share the space with Kyomoto, a truant recluse whose beautiful artwork sparks a competitive fervor in Fujino. What starts as jealousy transforms when Fujino realizes their shared passion for drawing.

Operation Blood Hunt

Operation Blood Hunt, the new movie from Louis Mandylor, is out today.

In 1944, a band of Special Forces are sent to a remote Pacific island to solve the mystery of missing Marines. They uncover a deadly secret: werewolves. Now, they must outwit and outfight the supernatural to survive.

Take Cover

Take Cover, the new movie from Nick McKinless, is out today.

Sam Lorde has spent a lifetime killing people. After a hit gone wrong, he finds himself disillusioned and lacking purpose, deciding to retire as a hitman. His final job however, results in him being a target himself. With little to no cover, he must fight with everything he has to survive.

The Radleys

The Radleys, the new movie from Euros Lyn, is out today.

Kelly Macdonald and Damian Lewis star in a dark comedy thriller about a seemingly average suburban family with a juicy secret: they are vampires. In the light of day, the Radleys might seem normal, but they can only abstain from their natural cravings for so long until the bloody truth bubbles to the surface and turns their quiet country life upside down.

Things Will Be Different

Things Will Be Different, the new movie from Michael Felker, is out today.

When estranged siblings, Joseph and Sidney, rendezvous at a local diner after a close-call robbery, they hightail it to an abandoned farmhouse that transports them to a different time in order to escape the local cops. But when they try to return to their present after the coast is clear, an unknown metaphysical force cuts them off and maroons them on the land unless they do exactly what they’re told. What comes from this not only bends the forces of spacetime but also bends Joe and Sid’s familial bonds beyond the point of trust and forgiveness.

White Bird

White Bird, the new movie from Marc Forster, is out today.

In White Bird, we follow Julian (Bryce Gheisar), who has struggled to belong ever since he was expelled from his former school for his treatment of Auggie Pullman. To transform his life, Julian’s grandmother (Helen Mirren) finally reveals to Julian her own story of courage — during her youth in Nazi-occupied France, a boy shelters her from mortal danger. They find first love in a stunning, magical world of their own creation, while the boy’s mother (Gillian Anderson) risks everything to keep her safe.

The Platform 2

The Platform 2, the new movie from Galder Gaztelu-Urrutia, is out today.

After a mysterious leader imposes his law in a brutal system of vertical cells, a new arrival battles against a dubious food distribution method.

Grunn

Grunn, the new game from Tom van den Boogaart and Sokpop Collective, is out today.

A gardener gets hired for maintenance work over the weekend. A simple task, but strangely some tools are missing… The owner of the garden isn't around, and their house is off-limits. Perhaps new tools can be found in the mysterious town, or maybe some of the reserved townsfolk have seen them?

SpongeBob SquarePants: The Patrick Star Game

SpongeBob SquarePants: The Patrick Star Game, the new game from PHL Collective and Outright Games, is out today.

Step into Patrick’s shorts and create hilarious, physics-based mayhem, as you make the open world of Bikini Bottom your playground!

[noybusiness]

I did read this the day you posted it, but I needed some time to put my thoughts together.

"- Have I mentioned that I hate clowns? Cuz hate clowns"

So Say We All, as they say in Battlestar Galactica.

"Interestingly, John and Mary are the most evenly split here between Sam or Dean coding."

They take turns. Mary has a lot in common with Dean psychologically, but she has the 'wanting to go to college' thing like Sam while John sees his future as being a hunter like Dean.

"- ok, as someone who has a veritable collection of tarot decks that I also use, I'm so fucking happy to see the Minor Arcana mentioned in fiction."

I've always liked the fact that the familiar Solitaire suits are descended from the Tarot suits (Hearts/Cups, emotion, water; Spades/Swords, thought, air; Diamonds/Pentacles/Coins, material reality, earth; Clubs/Wands, spirit, fire), with the Kings, Queens, Knights and Pages. The antagonist in the manga Return to Labyrinth was Mizumi, the Queen of Cups, a water-themed old flame of Jareth's whom the writer partly based on the Queen of Hearts from Alice in Wonderland and partly on Xayide from The Neverending Story.

"- And Mary is once again trying to take command, only here John is refusing, is pushing back against it, where before he'd have gone along or even tried to get the others to fall in line acting as mediator."

I'm just glad John has never tried some B.S. along the lines of 'I should be the leader 'cause I'm a *man*" and acknowledges Mary has been doing this much longer.

"-John & Lata, hell yeah! Love that she's checking in with him and that she makes sure to clarify that she's the one asking. And gives him the space he's clearly asking for, not pushing against his lie."

Keep up with your meditation, John! You promised, and you don't want to let Lata down.

"- Adore that Carlos was so so shocked by her outburst and then again that she was faking."

Uh huh.

"- It's interesting that Limbo was trying to remain in a perpetually happy state (and targetted those he saw as needing the same) but Clarence ended up essentially in a state of perpetual grief."

Which was Limbo's fault. I smell the whiff of hypocrisy.

"I take back John projecting. I would actually like to formally apologize to John here cuz Mary is doing the tried and true "dealing with emotions" approach that Sam uses everytime aka she is trying to dictate how John should be reacting to kyle's murder just because he isn't reacting like how she thinks he should be."

Honestly, I wasn't sure what she wanted him to do. What was there to say, and how would it help?

"- Also love that John pushes back. And especially that he puts to words what I think a lot of the fandom has said some variation of. That as long as there's one more hunt, a world to save, people in danger then considering an alternate future"

To be honest, if I lived in a world where being a hunter was a thing, I'd think it was irresponsible to give it up completely, because people will suffer as a result.

"Are there others that I'm missing? Is this a pattern?? I don’t remember, pls lemme know."

In The Winchesters rather than Supernatural? No. Supernatural had the infamous Bloody Mary, of course.

"- FFS! Rowena literally says she's looking for info ABOUT CROWLEY! Is my memory so bad or is my subconscious so active?"

This could be Original Flavor Rowena, but it being Alternate Rowena would fit because she'd be topside and looking for an Alternate Crowley who is still alive, and she might have a different relationship with. In any event, this definitely would have set up future appearances by both Rowena and Crowley, and I hate the fact The Winchesters were cancelled all over again.

"- Ah John, there you are, stumbling straight into danger. Couldn't let Mary have this one, could you?"

No reinforcements, really?

"- Also the pain in John's eyes, even as he is forced to smile might haunt me almost as much as Dean faking a smile in season 7."

But also, given that I hate clowns, it's weird that John and Mary somehow manage to still be hot with clown makeup.

"- l love Rowena so much. And she's gorgeous as always!"

Look forward to seeing more of Ruth Connell as the demon Asa aka Nightmare Nurse in Dead Boy Detectives on Max. She's actually the only actor reprising their role after the Dead Boy Detectives characters' appearance in an episode of Doom Patrol.

"- I like their resolution a lot. And Millie just giving them all the good news"

Eh. John fled custody (custody that he was in legitimately, because he was accused of a crime with credible evidence, the fact it turned out he didn't do it doesn't make custody on suspicion of it illegitimate), and Mary was seen helping him do it and beating up police, so in the real world both of them would still be wanted to serve jail time even if John was cleared of Kyle's murder. So they'd either have to return to Lawrence and serve some time or be fugitives permanently like Dean and Sam. Crimes committed in the process of clearing someone's name of another crime are still crimes, especially if in the eyes of the law you could easily have stayed put while the evidence was being obtained by your friends, and instead you actually hurt people. Hurt cops, no less. But so many shows and movies make this mistake, it's hardly unique to The Winchesters.

BTW, poor Kyle's folks. His relatives are going to think he went nuts over Mary, killed himself and tried to frame John for it. Would actually make a similar villain origin story to some antagonists that have popped up in Supernatural if they blamed Mary for his death, which they could do based either on the official story *or* what really happened. I'm assuming Mary and Kyle legit met by chance at the theatre and that's why the Akrida targeted him.

"- And Ada, I know she ends up telling them, but god when this first aired the Winchester stupidity was fresh to mind so I was soooo concerned for her."

Expected her to keep mum, so it was a relief she told them the truth at the beginning of the next episode. If they'd had a longer season order, no doubt this would have been drawn out more, and so would the coming of the Great Conjunction (yes, that's a Dark Crystal in-joke).

"Just the finale left now, I am sad 😔 but excited!

See y'all then!"

Yay, looking forward to it! If only there were more. Why does Jensen Ackles's deal with Amazon not cover The Winchesters?

And finally , long awaited ep 12. Sorry guys !!!

- We start off with one of the characters not wanting to deal with whatever they're dealing with. That's not gonna be relevant throughout I'm sure...

- Have I mentioned that I hate clowns? Cuz hate clowns

- Ah yes! Dean discussing lying to yourself, also gonna be relevant. But I'm even more intrigued that he ties this need for dishonesty intrinsically to hunting.

- John is completely lying to himself and projecting hard on Mary. Not that Mary isn't also lying to herself. Interestingly, John and Mary are the most evenly split here between Sam or Dean coding.

- ok, as someone who has a veritable collection of tarot decks that I also use, I'm so fucking happy to see the Minor Arcana mentioned in fiction. Especially since most just add in Major Arcana cards with little to no relevance or meaning as to why those cards drawn are Majors. And yeah, the witches here aren't doing a reading, but I still love to see Swords and Pentacles mentioned! Might even be a cheeky hint as to how the main witch operates since swords are commonly related to the mental aspect and pentacles to the material/monetary (Known in some decks as coins even). And what is she doing if not playing a mind game in order to win the game and gain the reward for it.

-God, she's an asshole to Ada! No one is an asshole to Ada!

- Well, Limbo def is an apt name. He def acts like a type of inbetween state where you're not dead but you sure aren't living either. I also find it fascinating in the context of Purgatory. Because to Dean Purgatory was pure (or better put for our purposes here, was unfiltered truth) whereas Limbo here is pure avoidance. Essentially ,if Purgatory worked as a place where Dean could be as uncomplicated and true as he could (which yes, that's very much an oversimplification) then Limbo is pure pretending/fake.

- And Mary is once again trying to take command, only here John is refusing, is pushing back against it, where before he'd have gone along or even tried to get the others to fall in line acting as mediator.

- The misdirect of the brother is hilarious in hindsight, they gave him such menacing music as background.

- Love that we have clear signs that if at all possible witches will try to hide.

- ROWEEEEENNNNAAAAA!!!!!

-John & Lata, hell yeah! Love that she's checking in with him and that she makes sure to clarify that she's the one asking. And gives him the space he's clearly asking for, not pushing against his lie.

- Meanwhile, Mary& Carlos have a much more direct convo but no less empathetic though still focused on John interestingly enough.

- Adore that Carlos was so so shocked by her outburst and then again that she was faking.

- Love a soul trade that is basically a trap

- The way Carlos just forgot their cover. Hahahahaha OMG!!! I love them!

- And the echoes of Sam begin in earnest - parents dead, older brother trying to parent but not having the tools to do so, younger brother running away...

- It's interesting that Limbo was trying to remain in a perpetually happy state (and targetted those he saw as needing the same) but Clarence ended up essentially in a state of perpetual grief. He says he wishes he'd helped Roger through his grief but he himself just traded the grief of his parents death with that of Roger's being taken. An interesting contrast between Limbo & Clarence, and a clear echo of SPN!John there also - mild but present.

- Oh, Carlos,you absolute sweetheart! And no argument against the "you were just a kid too" statement, love to see it!

- OK, now comes me trying to argue that this Rowena is our Rowena. Exhibit A: she was so clearly lying about the Grimoire and not the fact that the MOL stole it - her facial expressions to me read very much like she just made up an excuse to be there and help Ada. We've seen how Romena acts when she's actually trying to get a powerful Grimoire, this was not it. at all. This felt more like her keeping appearences than actually working an angle.

- Neverming, forgot she literally spells it out for us. In other words though, I was right.

-I choose to believe that the demon trapped in the plant is somehow, someway related to her getting Crowley back. I love Crowley so I will not accept any other meaning here. I'd have loved to see what they wanted to do with Rowena later on. Ugh every day I mourn that we didn't get more of this show.

- I take back John projecting. I would actually like to formally apologize to John here cuz Mary is doing the tried and true "dealing with emotions" approach that Sam uses everytime aka she is trying to dictate how John should be reacting to kyle's murder just because he isn't reacting like how she thinks he should be. I do love seeing them fight here, It's a whole mess they've found themselves in and haven't dealt with it at all so far. Make sense it'll all come to a head in this away. John is actually our Dean-mirror here. This fight also echoes the fight between Sam & Dean at Mia Vallens place (word for word even, in some places).

- Also love that John pushes back. And especially that he puts to words what I think a lot of the fandom has said some variation of. That as long as there's one more hunt, a world to save, people in danger then considering an alternate future

becomes that much harder to go towards... And that's not to say this applies 1 to 1 to Sam and Dean, because they quite literally didn't have a choice, but it does speak to the fact that you can't really move forward until you let go of the past that's holding you back or more so even -  though we're moving away from what this ep has to say with this - that you can't really heal from trauma til you're out of the traumatizing situation.

- And continuing our Sam echoes here, it's in fact Mary who's 1st approached by Limbo, Mary who's pain calls out while all the eyes were on John (and once more I'm reminded of the

Werther Box and how it was Sam who nearly killed himself due to a Rowena hallucination via the Box that got so much worryingly closer than Dean who we saw from the start got hit by the spell)

"John: Mary wait for me

Mary: Nope! I do what I want (proceeds to get taken by monster) " oh how the turn tables...

- I gotta say, this wasn't John's fault here. Mary wasn't ok far before their fight and if it had just beenmthe fight then John would've been taken too then. I actually think Limbo might've been honing into people who were, yes in crisis, but refusing to deal with it just like he had been, people looking to bargain away the negativity in their life for even a false sense of happiness.

- I also gotta mention this is the...2nd monster who's source of power is a mirror (Loki/Gabe being the 1st) Are there others that I'm missing? Is this a pattern?? I don’t remember, pls lemme know.

- Carlos you absolute king! Once more being the one to offer the practical solution, Lata is our theoretical queen though, let it be known,

- FFS! Rowena literally says she's looking for info ABOUT CROWLEY! Is my memory so bad or is my subconscious so active?

-Oh Rowena, there was no need to hurt Ada. Why must two bad bitches fight eachother?!

- Ah John, there you are, stumbling straight into danger. Couldn't let Mary have this one, could you?

- Hate clowns!

- Don't mind Limbo that much right now.

- Wait!!!. John cheated his way here... like he cheated his way into the army, like he, technically, cheated his way to hunting (he's MOL legacy afterall)

- "We never have to fight again about my future or your anger" jesus christ, skinning me alive would hurt less than this line. After all, what causes the whole fight in SPN to occur if not Mary's lack of a future and John's resulting anger (spurned by grief) My god, this fucking line from Mary.

- John is truly our Dean mirror here "it wouldn't be real" echoes so much Dean's feelings about heaven

- Also the pain in John's eyes, even as he is forced to smile might haunt me almost as much as Dean faking a smile in season 7. And I legit cannot look at that scene with Dean.

- Nooo, not the clowns ...

- Carlos and that big heart of theirs saves the day. I love it.

- Lata is however absolutely hilarious here though.

- l love Rowena so much. And she's gorgeous as always!

- Of course we'll be dealing with souls being used up, tiny Jack and Lily Sunder echo, nice!

- Exhibit B for Rowena, she just vanishes into thin air, not her usual way of leaving prior to Queen of Hell status

- Ugh, the "it's been 30 years" since Clarence has seen his brother. The Mary resurection of it all. And John with the "better than never seeing them again" hits hard man!

- Oh Mary, sweetheart.

- I like their resolution a lot. And Millie just giving them all the good news

- Yes Lala you figured it out baby!

- And Ada, I know she ends up telling them, but god when this first aired the Winchester stupidity was fresh to mind so I was soooo concerned for her.

Just the finale left now, I am sad 😔 but excited!

See y'all then!

@noybusiness - thank you for the encouragements! Its finally here!

@shallowseeker - I love reading your thoughts on SPN and had a fantastic time beta reading for you so here's something for u to hoefully enjoy! Hope you feel better soon!

[unscrxpted]

Six missed calls, 15 texts. The latest: "WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED SAM WINCHESTER I'M COMING OUT THERE" [Sylvia] {nxttheendxfthestxry}

Sam regretted every life choice he’d made that led him to that moment of looking at his phone screen to see Sylvia losing her shit. Uh oh. He quickly texted her back: “DO NOT COME OUT HERE. I’m fine. A wendigo dislocated my shoulder. Could've been a lot worse. On my way home to you guys.”

Of course, he completely left out that he also had bruises from being thrown into trees, cuts from running through the forest, and a black eye from fist-fighting a game warden.

@nxttheendxfthestxry

[kittenofdoomage]

Reparations (Dean Winchester)

Summary: Dean forgets something important and has to find a way to make it up to you.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x female!reader

Word Count: 3871

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, slight relationship angst, non-hunter-but-aware-reader, romance, more fluff, smut

Ao3 Link (most of my works can be found here)

Tumblr Masterlist (a small selection of fics posted here)

Patreon (early access and option to request fics)

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST OR REDISTRIBUTE MY WORK IN ANY FORM ON ANY SITE. 18+ CONTENT BELOW THE CUT (MINORS DNI)

Dean threw his duffel bag on the bed unceremoniously, ignoring Sam’s chatter as he stomped to the bathroom. Once in there, he splashed some water on his face, leaning on the edge of the grimy sink and staring into the slightly blurry mirror as the liquid dripped off of his jaw. It had been a long drive, and he wasn’t all that happy to be spending the entire week away from you. You’d been gracious about it, like you were with every case that came along, choosing to remain at the bunker as you weren’t, and didn’t want to be, a hunter. Mostly, you kept to the sidelines, occasionally drawing a devil’s trap or researching if required but the hands-on work was left to the boys. You existed in their lives as Dean’s girlfriend, his comfort, the small slice of normality in his weird existence, and Sam’s best friend, as well as someone to keep the home fires burning while they were off saving people and hunting things.

Popping his head through the open bathroom door, Sam appeared in the mirror’s reflection and Dean straightened as he saw him, grabbing for a towel to dry his face. 

"Dude. You okay?"

"Yeah,” Dean grunted, patting the towel against his throat. “Just wanna get this hunt over with and get home."

"You seem a little -" At his brother’s warning look, Sam shut up, clearing his throat and motioning to the papers he’d gathered on the table. "Nevermind. Wanna go through what we got, nail our vics down?"  The older Winchester nodded as he tossed the towel across the sink and stepped out of the small bathroom. "So, we’ve got six victims. All male, all in their thirties, all missing livers, kidneys -" 

Dean interrupted, squinting at the date on the local broadsheet. "Is this today’s paper?"

Sam glanced at it and nodded. "Yeah, why?"

Groaning, Dean slumped down onto the end of one bed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I knew she was being off."

"Who?" Sam asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"Y/N." Dean dropped his head into his palms, shaking it lightly. "She was acting funny. Like, she didn’t mind us going away, but she was dropping hints and I’m such a freaking idiot, I completely messed up!"

"Dean, I literally have no idea what you’re talking about."

"It’s her birthday,” Dean sighed, resting his hands onto his knees as he squared his shoulders. “And I forgot. Worst boyfriend ever. I can’t do anything right."

"Why don’t you call her?" Sam slung an arm over the back of his chair, twisting slightly to watch his brother get to his feet and begin a slow pace around the room. Dean growled in frustration.

"And say what? “Hey honey, sorry I forgot your birthday. I’ll bring you home some entrails!”. I can’t make this up to her, Sammy! I forgot her friggin’ birthday!"

"To be fair, you guys have only been dating, what? Six months? And you’re not great with dates."

"That doesn’t excuse it," Dean grunted, slumping down onto the edge of the bed again. "I don’t know what I can do to make it up to her." 

The room descended into silence, and Sam chewed his lip thoughtfully as he looked back over the papers. Dean picked at his nails, and his brother knew that internally, Dean would be punishing himself for a long, long time for this. But Sam knew that with the right apology, you’d forget it. After all, you loved Dean. There wasn’t anything you wouldn’t do for him, and you knew more than most how forgetful the elder Winchester could be when he was stressed.

"Look, we’ve got a week. How about we get the case done, and then we plan something that’ll make Y/N completely forget that you forgot her birthday?" 

Dean looked up at Sam, chewing the inside of his cheek, slowly nodding along though his brother could see the cogs turning in his head. “You know… I think I got an idea.”

Usually, you parked your little compact outside the bunker, but today it was raining heavily and you didn’t really anticipate any thrill in a dash to the door without getting wet, plus you had several bags of groceries that you did not want to juggle through puddles. Parking in the garage was the obvious option, though it took a hot second to remember the code for the door.

The lights were already on as you pulled in, which wasn’t anything unusual, and as you parked up, your phone buzzed in your pocket. It was a text from Dean that made you smile as you read it, even though it was only a simple “b back soon x”.

Okay, so maybe another person would be irritated by the fact that he had forgotten their birthday, though he’d realized it soon after he left for the hunt and had promised to make it up to you in a somewhat steamy phone call made from a gas station two hundred miles away. You didn’t know what he had in mind but you supposed you’d find out soon, and you had to admit, you’d really missed him after nearly a week alone in the huge cavernous building of theirs.

It was easy for you to forgive his slight forgetfulness or the fact that he couldn’t get his socks in the laundry bin. Dean was a hero - Sam too - and you respected that their lives weren’t like other folks. You’d seen the blood and gore, the fallout from bad hunts, and you took pride that you were the sliver of normality that kept at least Dean going. Stress levels were unusually high with their almost-thankless line of work; you weren’t about to stress him out even more because he’d missed a fairly insignificant day that came around every year.

Locking the car, you struggled up the steps with your arms full of groceries, shouldering the door open and leaving the lights on for when the Winchesters returned. Your first stop was the kitchen but as you headed down the corridor and into the library, you noticed the lights were all on, which was not how you’d left them. You frowned, hearing the soft hum of music floating through the halls.

Concern had you depositing the groceries on the library table, and you quickly located the pistol hidden in a fake book on one of the shelves, checking it for bullets and finding it full. You knew how to handle a weapon, thanks to your grandfather, and Dean’s more recent coaching, but that didn’t stop nerves settling in your belly as you followed the sound of the music out of the library.

The music became clearer as you got closer and closer, discovering the source was the kitchen, and the song was something old that you didn’t know the name of. It struck you as odd that someone would break in and play classic rock while they… cooked? You sniffed, picking up hints of garlic and tomato in the air.

“You say it’s urgent, so urgent,” came a familiar and slightly off-key voice. “So oh, oh, urgent, just wait and see -”

His voice grew muffled and your curiosity couldn’t be held in check any longer. You slid into the kitchen doorway, taking note of the candles everywhere, the table set up with a ratty old check cloth and cutlery. Lowering the gun, your gaze moved to Dean’s pert ass where he was bending over the stove, humming along with the song as he tasted whatever he was cooking.

“Perfect.”

“Dean?”

He spun on the spot, bright green eyes wide as he saw you in the doorway, and it was only his quick reflexes that stopped the tray in his hands from flying out of his grasp. “Y/N! I wasn’t expecting you back just yet.”

Strolling forward, you carefully place the gun on the countertop with a sheepish grin. “I wasn’t expecting you back at all,” you commented with a smile, taking in the tight blue button down that outlined his frame, hugging him in all the right places. “What is all this?”

Dean grinned, placing the tray on top of the stove. “Happy birthday,” he said, gesturing to the ready-to-serve spaghetti on the stove.

Your smile widened. “You didn’t have to make me dinner, Dean.”

“I wanted to,” he insisted, shrugging lightly. “I felt really crappy about missing your birthday.” 

You approached, stopping just in front of him to reach up and touch his face, pushing up on tiptoes to kiss him softly. “You’re a big ball of goo,” you teased, lowering yourself slowly. “I feel under-dressed.”

“You look perfect,” he promised, leaning in to kiss you again. “Now, why don’t you take a seat while I serve? There’s something on the table for you.”

Curiosity peaked, you let him swat you away playfully, moving towards the table to take a seat. At the spot you assumed was reserved for you was a box, wrapped delicately in sparkly wrapping paper. “What is it?” you asked, glancing over to where he was plating up the food. It smelled good, good enough that your mouth began to water, and you suddenly remembered the groceries. “Oh, shoot, I left the groceries in the library -” You started to move but Dean shook his head.

“I’ll get it. You open your present.”

He darted off and you frowned, before shrugging and tearing at the paper, revealing a familiar white box underneath. Your frown deepened at the labeling, trying to imagine Dean being anywhere near a Build-A-Bear store, struggling to picture him lining up among giggling children, smirking at the amusing image. As you got the box open, he returned with the groceries, quickly moving to put them away.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, gaze landing on the fluffy little tan bear in the box, neatly dressed in a black t-shirt, jeans, and a plaid flannel. “Oh, god, Dean! It’s so fluffy, I’m gonna die!”

Dean chuckled as he shoved a box of donuts to the back of the refrigerator. “I figured if I had to go away for another week, you’ll have someone to keep you company.”

“That’s so lame and adorable,” you giggled, hauling the bear from the box. “You made a bear of you.” You hugged the tiny Dean-bear close, feeling a slight sting of happy tears in the corners of your eyes. “I can’t believe you went to a Build-A-Bear.”

“Anything for you,” he threw out, accompanying it with a corny smile. “I even picked up a bottle of your favorite wine.”

“Made Sam go with ya, huh?”

“Not my fault you don’t like whiskey.”

You laughed again, still hugging the bear as he served dinner. When he approached the table with the loaded plates, you removed the box and settled the bear on the unused part of the cloth, resting him against the condiment basket.

“Okay, we have spaghetti bolognese with cheddar, not parmesan, because -”

“Real cheese, please,” you giggled.

Dean grinned, placing your plate in front of you and you inhaled deeply. “There’s pie for dessert,” he added, sliding onto his stool.

“It smells wonderful,” you moaned, picking up your fork.

“Wine?” Dean offered, grabbing the chilled bottle from the bucket beside him. You smiled and nodded, waiting for him to pour a generous amount into your glass. “Sam’s gonna come back tomorrow. He figured we could use some alone time.”

“You really pulled out all the stops, huh?”

“Well,” he drawled, pouring his own glass of wine, “to tell you the truth, I was terrified I’d get back here and you’d be gone. I mean,” he cleared his throat, avoiding your gaze nervously, “I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

“It was a birthday,” you dismissed softly. “I have one every year. And I wouldn’t walk away over something like that.”

“And on some level, I knew that, but I also felt like a dick anyway.”

You scooped up some spaghetti onto your fork, taking a bite and moaning. “Oh, god, this is good. Did you put bacon in it?”

“Hell, yeah,” he laughed. “I’m glad you like it. I wanted to do something special to make up for it. And I thought that a meal would be nice. Me and Sam talked about it and he suggested a nice restaurant and all that, but I remembered that you don’t like public food places much because you don’t like eating in public. And you don’t like doing that whole..." He waved a hand dismissively. "Outside social things. Which I’m cool with. Not a fan of it either." You smiled again, taking another bite as he kept talking. "So, I decided that a night with just you and me, your favorite meal, some nice wine, maybe a movie..."

"It’s perfect," you whispered, smiling at him, looking down at your meal bashfully. No one, let alone Dean, had ever done anything so sweet for you. "Thank you."

He blushed and ducked his head. "Well, eat up before it gets cold." A panicked expression crossed his face as the music changed to Guns-N-Roses and he looked up to the stereo, then back to you. "Do you want me to change the music? This is an old mix tape that might end up with some Metallica on it."

"No. I like this song. Besides, whoever said rock wasn’t romantic has clearly never heard Bad Company." 

Dean smirked and the both of you fell into a comfortable silence as you ate, the soft tones of rock drifting through the bunker to accompany the meal, and you wondered how on earth you’d gotten so lucky.

"I enjoyed that," Dean said, stretching dramatically as you remained curled into his side on the large bed. The TV was rolling the credits for the movie you’d just watched, and to be honest, you’d been so comfy and sated and full of delicious food and wine, that you hadn’t paid attention to most of it. You knew it had been about some kind of spy ring and there was a famous guy in it but you couldn’t remember his name. Either way, just being curled up and dozy on Dean’s chest was wonderful, and you were about ready to fall asleep. 

"You okay?" he asked, nudging you gently; you nodded, making a contented noise in your throat as you snuggled closer to him. Dean chuckled, his hand coming up to brush down the side of your face, the touch of his skin on yours leaving a tingling in its wake.

"Tonight was really perfect, Dean, I mean it." 

Your words were quiet but sincere, and he smiled softly. Of course you were worried - Dean had a natural tendency to think what he had done wasn’t enough, and you were keen to reassure him that right now, at this moment, you couldn’t be any happier. "No one’s ever done anything so…nice for me."

"Well, I guess romance ain’t dead after all,” he drawled, smirking at you in the cocky way only he could manage. Drawn in, you craned your neck, kissing him softly, smiling against his mouth when he intensified the caress. His arm came up around you, fingers toying with the strap of your bra. "At least we’re already in the bedroom, huh sweetheart?" 

"That is definitely a good thing," you replied, pushing him onto his back. He opened his mouth to protest, but you shushed him with your index finger and slung one leg over him to straddle his hips. "Uh-uh. You did the dinner, and the movie, and made up for my birthday. Now, it’s time for me to say thank you."

Dean’s face split into a filthy smirk, and he raised one eyebrow. "Oh yeah? And how are you planning to do that, Y/N?" 

You grinned right back at him, your fingers deftly undoing the buttons on his shirt, flinging it open with a bit of dramatic flare. "Hold still, and you’ll find out." You leaned down, pressing a swift, closed mouth kiss to his lips before you darted your tongue out, licking a path down over his chin, feeling the rough stubble underneath your touch. Dean groaned, his arousal making itself known where you straddled him, his hips thrusting up towards you, pressing against your already hot center. You paused in your action, looking up at him with a reprimanded glare. "I said hold still." 

He chuckled, and you felt his Adam’s apple bob against your cheek. In response to his laughter, you nipped at his neck with blunt teeth, making him hiss, smiling up at him mischievously when you moved your attention to his left nipple. Sticking out your tongue once more, you swirled your tongue around it, sucking lightly at the skin. Little moans came from his mouth at the sensation of your mouth on his sensitive skin, and you reached up with your hand, tweaking his right nipple gently as you laved attention on the left.

"Fuck..." Dean cursed, his body trembling with the effort it took not to flip you over and take control. He hated being the bottom but for once, you were taking charge. Luckily, you didn’t do this all the time - Dean Winchester was a man who knew what he wanted and knew how to give you what you wanted, so most of the time he took the lead. Right at that moment, you were in control, and you were going to make him whimper like he did to you. 

You abandoned his nipples, sucking and nipping a trail down over his stomach. He flinched a little as you dipped your tongue into his belly button, and you smiled against his skin, knowing he was at least a little ticklish there. With shaking fingers, you unbuttoned his pants, pulling them down to expose the very top of his pelvic area, eyeing the delicious v-line that sloped down into the depths of the denim. Placing a soft kiss to the skin there made him groan loudly, and you pulled his pants down further, allowing his cock the room to spring free. As you sat back, pulling his pants all the way down, leaving him only wearing his unbuttoned shirt, you surveyed him like you’d earlier salivated over his cooking.

Dean was covered in scars. Bullet wounds, knife marks, scratch marks - there wasn’t much of him that didn’t have evidence of the life he’d led, but it didn’t take away from the sheer beauty of him; if anything, it added to his gorgeousness. Without thinking, you reached out and trailed a finger over his thigh, where a long scar stretched from his knee almost up into his groin. That was the mark of a Wendigo - you remembered sewing him up, shortly after you’d met him.

As if he realized what you were doing, Dean propped himself up onto his elbows, looking down at the scar. "Yeah. That was a bad one. You did a good job with the stitches though." He caught your wrist with his. "What’s wrong?" You looked up, meeting his green eyes with a smile.

"Just realized something." He waited for the answer and your eyes felt the sting of tears. "You did all this for my birthday, when all I want, all I ever want," you leaned forward, "is for you to come home safe and in one piece." His face became serious for a moment and you crawled over him, pressing your lips to his. "I love you, Dean Winchester." 

He pulled you closer without missing a beat, kissing you furiously for a few seconds before pulling away panting. “I need you,” he whispered, sliding one hand down to your hip before suddenly flipping you onto your back.

Your shirt came off, along with his, and you quickly found yourself disrobed of your pants, unable to think straight as he peppered kisses on any patch of skin that was revealed to him, finally returning to your mouth when he finally had you nude underneath him. His cock prodded your entrance impatiently, and Dean thrust his hips gently, leaning on his elbows to look down at you. 

"As much as I would love to have you continue with whatever you were building to, I need to be inside you right now." 

“Uh-huh,” you managed, sucking in a breath as Dean pulled back a touch to guide himself into you, watching your expression dissolve as he filled you inch by inch.

It was urgent and desperate love making, unlike how you usually went about it. Maybe it was the time apart, which seemed to be increasing lately, or the wistful remarks. The thought of you losing him and him losing you was one that forever plagued the both of you but here, now, moving with him, feeling him pushing you to the edge, his grunts echoing in your ear as his fingers gripped your hips with a bruising intensity, you felt like this would last forever.

"Dean -" you gasped, as your climax surged through you, your head falling backwards as his hands moved from your hips round to hold your lower back. Shifting, he pulled you up until you were straddling his lap, his strong arms holding you fast as you swam through the bliss he’d instilled in you, thrusting harder and harder until your ass was slapping against his thighs with an audible echo. He was kneeling now, holding you like a ragdoll as you tried to control yourself, clinging to his shoulders desperately and crying out at each stroke. 

When you’d regained your senses, you found his lips again, thrusting your tongue against his as you started to push up with your calves, riding him as hard as he was fucking you. The room was awash with the scent of sex, the sounds of your skin meeting, both of you drenched in sweat as you felt the slight burn of the friction between you. But the pain was fleeting, and all that came back to you was the feeling of him splitting you apart, down the middle, his urgency spilling over into you. The need to feel some sort of life before it was too late.

"Baby, I’m gonna cum," Dean groaned, clutching at you desperately. You nodded, gasping for breath, and unable to respond verbally as you started to come undone again. His cock swelled and pulsed and with an almost primal sounding roar, he spilled himself into you, holding you tightly as he finished, bringing you along with him.

You remained locked together, your legs straddling his, his cock remaining stubbornly hard in the wake of his orgasm, the thickness still filling you. His hands stroked your back lovingly as yours clasped his face, kissing him softly. There was no need to speak. Both of you knew where you were, and there wasn’t any need to clarify it. Without any sound, Dean lifted you away, before gathering you back into his arms as he lay on the bed. The TV was playing ads for Netflix as he pulled the sheets over you both.

Laying there in his arms, you smiled, feeling safe, content and loved. Maybe he’d never say it, but as he’d pointed out, romance definitely wasn’t dead.

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[autisticgayngel]

Canonverse Castiel-centric/pining/loving Cas fics

some of these are Dean's POV and a lot are alternating POV, but all of them really delve into Cas's emotions and his love for Dean. All canonverse and all happy endings. Categorised by post-confession, pre-s15 curtain fic and other canon-era. Descending word count within each category. If anyone has any recs for things I should add lmk!

Post-Confession Fics

things happen (they do, they do, and they do) by sobsicles 28k rating E

Everyone has recced this, and for good reason, it's stunning. Cas gets back from the empty and Dean sort of lets him down gently and is very worried about breaking his heart. Despite this Cas is finally able to express to Dean how much he loves him and takes full advantage of this. He's earnest and sweet and so intense about it, but also incredibly hurt about the lack of reciprocation, though he tries to hide it. He does get the love he deserves in the end and it's so good!

closer (isn't close enough) by fleeceframe 18k rating E

Again, Dean's POV, but very much focused on how much Cas loves him. Has the gorgeous Cas line: “When you are hungry, you eat. When you are tired, you rest. When you are dirty, you bathe. But what are you supposed to do with love?”

My unintended by DeanaWinchester, Jeanne_de_Valois 10k rating E

Really good Cas POV, he’s obsessive and insecure but also deeply loving.

my heart a compass by lagaudiere 10k rating T

The empty torments Cas with visions of Dean and of the family he longs to have with Dean. Dean saves him.

I said show me something by ilovehowyouletmefall 7k rating E

Sparked by the debate about whether or not Dean thinks Cas can feel. Cas is hurt by Dean saying he thought he couldn't feel and vulcan mind melds to show him exactly how he feels about him. It's a really interesting exploration of both of their feelings and fears.

Gift by thisisapaige 2k rating G

Very sweet little fic of them trying to work things out once Cas returns from the empty.

Pre-s15 Curtain Fics

take the long way home by dothraki_shieldmaiden 95k rating E

Dean tries to retire with his family but finds himself alone as Sam and Jack take a road trip and Cas goes hunting in order to prove he's still useful as a human and to avoid thinking about his feelings for Dean. Really agonising and harrowing at the start as they both feel so rejected and miserable. Cas gets into situations where monsters use his feelings for Dean to attack him. Eventually, they're able to tentatively work out their feelings and settle down together and it's very sweet.

Morning Glory by edgarallanrose 26k rating E

Dean and Cas retire together. Cas becomes a beekeeper and Dean starts to use the honey he makes to bake goods, which they sell at the farmer's market. Cas is very much in love with Dean but it takes Dean a bit longer to work things out.

Other Canon-era

A Winter's Tale by NorthernSparrow 64k rating T

This one hurts a lot, so fair warning for that. Cas falls ill while human and homeless and is hospitalised. Dean finds the journal Cas kept as he struggled to survive in this time. Pre-Destiel but Cas does write a lot about his feelings for Dean. Sam and Dean shower Cas with love and kindess as he recovers. Also a destiel epilogue that is very sweet and fluffy.

In the Shadow of your Wings by Enochian Things (Salr323) 57k rating E

Cas confesses his love to Dean post s11 finale but the timing is terrible and Dean is very repressed about it all and breaks Cas's heart. Cas gets an Italian man of letters boyfriend in an attempt to get over it and Dean is insanely jealous (which Cas is oblivious to) but they all have to work together to try to save Sam from the BMOL. Dean eventually gets his shit together and treats Cas the way Cas has learnt to understand he deserves.

That Black Dog Ache by SaltyWords (agent4hire22) 28k rating E

This is very much Dean's POV but I'm putting it here anyway because it has a really intense love confession from Cas, which I'll include an excerpt of that drives me insane:

'“I listen to your music, and I close my eyes. I try to imagine I’m in the Impala, hunting with you. And, sometimes,” his throat jumped, “I lay on your bed. I think about what it would be like if I got to have a place on it beside you... If you ever let me get close enough.”'

Kelp!I Need Somebody by andimeantittosting (Saylee) 27k rating E

A really sweet fic in which Sam, Dean and Cas go to investigate a case on Jesse and Cesar's ranch. Switching POV with really good mutual pining as they tentatively begin to realise the other feels the same.

Being Dean Winchester by Anonymous 26k rating E

Set early s4, Cas has to possess Dean temporarily. While doing this, he has to work to hide his feelings from Dean. Cas is already obsessed with Dean and in love with him but is embarrassed by it and struggles to keep Dean from seeing all of this, especially when Dean wants to have sex with someone while Cas is possessing him.

Après by imogenbynight 24k rating E

Set after the angels fall in s8. Cas falls to earth in Paris and realises he's in love with Dean. Dean comes to get him and they find love together in Paris.

desiderium, lost by atlasian 20k rating T

Castiel confesses his love for Dean and Dean tells him to move on. Cas tries, fairly unsuccessfully, before Dean gets it together.

No Other Worthy Quest by MajorEnglishEsquire 15k rating E

Cas just loves Dean very much.

'“For fuck's sake,” his skin is heating. Cas can feel it. “Stop saying lovey-dovey shit.”

“I know,” Cas rolls his eyes. “It’s so mortifying for you when I want to tell you I love you. I’m using all my self-restraint, I promise not to embarrass you.”'

The Arrow by jscribbles 12k rating T

Valentine's day and Cas has been hit by a Cupid's arrow and is literally sick with love for Dean.

and all this devotion by dothraki_shieldmaiden 10k rating M

Dean gets hurt on a hunt and Cas takes care of him in a cabin. Very sweet, delightful Cas POV of him being very much in love.

Cuckoo And Nest by komodobits 10k rating E

Cas struggles to work out why Dean deems some things meaningful and some things worthless, and where he fits into this apparent dichotomy. Really gorgeous and agonising Cas POV that deals with their constant issue of Dean just wanting Cas to stay and Cas wanting Dean to want him to stay but they're both too afraid to express it.

Breathe by turningthepages 9k rating G

Dean and Cas platonically sleep together to help with Dean's sleep. Cas both likes the situation and longs for it to mean more.

First Date by aeli_kindara 9k rating T

Dean asks Cas on a date and they're both trying very hard to make it all work. The sequel is stunning too.

'Dean says, “We should do that. Go on a date.”

Something in Castiel’s chest fuzzes, like static on a TV, and stops.'

weights on my ankles by dothraki_shieldmaiden 9k rating M

After 15x3 The Rupture, Cas goes back to Rexford. While there, he thinks about how Dean hurt him all those years ago and how he hurt him more recently. Partly a 9x6 Heaven Can Wait fanfic-gap fic.

Let it Linger by OmniscientOranges 8k rating M

Cas starts sleeping with men out of jealousy when watching Dean pick up women at bars. The way the fic describes how in love he is and how hopeless he feels about it is both agonising and very sweet.

He Thought He Was Reckless by MajorEnglishEsquire 8k rating M

Cas plays up injuries so that Dean will coddle him. Self-woobification from the Angel of the Lord and it's so sweet!

Something to Protect by Sass_Master 6k rating G

Cas tries to work out how to make Dean feel less unsafe so that he no longer has to jolt awake. Sweet, tentative intimacy and Cas enjoying it so much.

lonely hearts. by outpastthemoat 5k rating G

Deals with Cas accompanying Sam and Dean on hunts and feeling incredibly lonely and longing to be with Dean. He finds solace in romance novels.

Some People Would Call This Romantic by almaasi 5k rating G

Human Cas goes to the beach and finds it rather overwhelming. Taking a romantic walk with Dean along the beach is also overwhelming.

The Tea is Decaf by mnwood 4k rating T

Really sweet! Cas and Eileen talk and gossip about Sam and Dean in the bunker at night over tea.

A Place to Rest by Inessencedivided 3k rating G

Dean and Cas talk through things after the Stuck in the Middle with You love confession. Cas cries some more.

White Noise by domesticadventures 2k rating G

Cas struggles with feelings of worthlessness in the aftermath of Lucifer's possession.

Receipts by surlybobbies 1k rating G

Cas writes little notes about how much he loves Dean on receipts from meals they share together. Dean finds them.

[unscrxpted]

Sam blinked, freezing. Something was wrong. Something was wrong. That was all he could think as he held onto his sister, something was wrong, and he wasn't ready for it, and-

And he knew that he wouldn't be able to stop her.

But he'd be damned if he didn't try.

He squeezed her hand gently, staying quiet.

unscrxpted​:

Sam winced a bit. He gritted his teeth, going over over her against his better judgment, taking her hand and squeezing gently. He kissed the side of her head, smiling weakly.

He didn’t say anything. Just stood there with them, with her, with his sisters… his sisters he’d failed, time and time again. How may more times would he fail them before they gave up on him?

Sylvia relaxes softly against them both, and then, then she cries, but she’s not looking at anything to do with what’s happening in front of them, anything to do with… any of the reason they’re out there.

She doesn’t miss him, she never will.

But something else is different and it scares her, and it hurts her, and that, that’s enough to make her cry, holding onto her best friends. Melinda looks at her in surprise and glances at Sam as she continues to hold onto Sylvia.

[shirtlesssammy]

6x05: Live Free or Twihard

Then:

Vampires are real

Now:

At a gothy bar, a girl shows an ID and starts looking around. She takes a drink and starts walking around. She bumps into her presumed date. Later, they’re really bonding --or well he’s pressuring her to reveal more about herself than she feels comfortable. She agrees to show him more of her poetry, and in the process of pulling the sheets out, she gets a papercut. The guy looks away TOTALLY not interested.

Actually, he’s more interested than he should be and takes off for her sake. 

He comes back though, because he can’t stop thinking about her. He pulls out his best Edward line and tells her they can’t be together. Bella Kristin disagrees. He’s done BAD things, girl. But she’s 17! He shows her his fangs. It only excites her. He invites her to see his world. And a gross dude pops out of the alley to go to chow town on her neck. 

Dean gives Lisa a call, seeing if she’d like him to visit. She misses him --of course. 

Sam has a bunch of missing girls. They’ve got a case.

They head to interview a parent of one of the missing girls, Kristy. They check out her room to discover she’s REALLY into sparkly vampires. Dean’s little “wow” says it all. Sam finds the girl’s computer, while Dean entertains himself with reading the vamp books the girl was obsessed with.

They read the emails and find the location where the girl met her fate. 

Meanwhile, a blood transport van is robbed. 

Sam gets on the phone with Samuel. He confirms that they’re hunting vamps and they need to find the nest. Dean and Sam head inside the bar to scope the scene. They find three potential vamps (well, actually just two because one kisses another dude and Dean Bean, you don’t have to look so awkward.) 

They split up to follow their respective vamp. Sam ends up in a storage area and slices his vamp’s head off easy peasy. Because Sam Fucking Winchester is Sam Super Fucking Winchester without a soul. Dean heads to the alley to break up a totally normal couple just making out. The dude wasn’t actually a vamp --he just pretends to be to get laid.

Dean gets jumped by the longhaired vamp. Sam rushes into the alley to watch the vamp beat up Dean. He has plenty of time to stop it --but just watches with a cruel and curious smile on his face. He watches the vamp feed Dean his blood. The vamp takes off (THANKFULLY) before Sam can kill him. 

Dean’s a vampire, guys!

His transformation involves hypersensitivity to sound and light. He tells Sam that once Samuel gets there, he needs to kill him. He also wonders why Sam isn’t more freaked out. Sam just wants to know how he physically feels --cause that’s normal Samuel. 

Dean heads to the bathroom to check on his little baby fangs. They’re coming in nicely!

Also, he totally runs away and heads to Lisa’s place. He acts cryptic but tells Lisa, “Thanks, for everything.” (Remember when Cas said those exact words to Dean when HE was being cryptic but knew he’d never see him again? I do.) Dean then tells Lisa he’s got to go --he’s not going to talk about it. He doesn’t want to bring it home. She gets closer and demands that he tell her what’s going on. Dean takes off, but not before waking Ben. He comes closer to Dean and Dean shoves him away--hard.

Later, Grandpa Campbell scolds Sam for losing track of his brother. But, surprise! Dean is lurking next to the refrigerator. He double pinky swears that he didn’t feed. “You can relax, I didn’t drink anyone. But...I came close.”

Dean begs for a quick ending, but Samuel reveals that he has a vampire cure - as long as Dean doesn’t drink any human juice boxes. There’s just one catch: he has to get blood from the vampire who turned him. Dean departs, armed with dead man’s blood and a can-do attitude!

Samuel spends a moment looking at Sam suspiciously. Apparently they both discussed the vampire cure months ago! So why didn’t Sam save his brother? WHY INDEED. Samuel implies that Sam did it solely to get a man on the inside and help them track the alpha vampire. 

Dean encounters Edward Cullen in the grimy, dark hallways of the vampire lair. Sparklepants the Vampire Boy offers Dean a refreshing blood cooler before they sit down and watch Nickelodeon together. “I killed so many people on the way over here,” Dean boasts awkwardly, turning down the blood. He just can’t eat another bite! Dean gets the feature tour of the compound. He’s been tagged as a recruiter for the vamps, on account of his pretty face. 

Dean encounters his sire. The vamp reveals his dirty scheme. He keeps the captured and turned women locked up until they’re “compliant” (EW) and then sets them out to catch hot guys, who in turn set out to catch hot girls. Etcetera! Ah, the circle of life. 

The vamp leans in reeeeeeeaaaal close and asks Dean if he wants the “private tour.” GOOD GOD I am deceased. 

Dean pulls out the vial of dead man’s blood, but one errant drop escapes the syringe and the game is over. They grapple for control, and Dean looks like he’s about to lose. But whispering descends from above. All the vampires collapse to the ground and in an instant, Dean follows. He dreams of a series of images - little girls and vampires and gothic country imagery. A man appears in the vision - the alpha vamp. 

Dean swims to consciousness just as all the vamps try to ambush him. Heads meet the blood cannon. 

Sam and Samuel pull up outside of the lair. A vamp breaks their windshield. 

Dean continues to murder his way through an entire building of vampires while Sam and Samuel fight off windshield vamp. They head inside to see room after room of dead vampires. “Looks like your brother has some Campbell in him after all,” Samuel mutters. DAMN RIGHT HE DOES. (Some Mary Campbell, that is.) They finally find Dean sitting in contemplation with his boot resting gently on his sire’s severed head. 

For Male Modeling Science:

Later, they prepare the cure. Sam demands to know what Dean saw of the nest - what visions did he have? Cold as ICE, Sam! Dean chokes down the cure. He vomits a truly next level amount of bile and his flashbacks go in reverse because, you see, HIS VAMPIRISM IS REVERSING. The last thing Dean remembers is the smirk on Sam’s face as he got turned. 

He wakes, physically whole but mentally as scarred as ever! The next morning, Sam presses Dean again. He wants to know what Dean saw in the nest. WHAT GOTHIC COLLAGE?

Alone outside, Dean calls Lisa and then immediately chickens out on leaving a message. He checks in with Sam as they leave - he’ll always have his back, right? RIGHT????

The Sparkle Quotes of Doom:

These aren’t vampires. These are douchebags

You’re pretty!

 Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

[unscrxpted]

Sam sat back, incredibly confused. He opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again, thinking really hard about what he wanted to say. He put his hands together. "What the fuck?"

"I see your eloquence has gotten better since going to school in Auradon," Bobby teased. Sam stuck his tongue out at his uncle.

changingthelegacy​:

Sam leaned against Melinda, sighing. “You’re definitely gonna get in a little trouble if your dad finds out. I mean, I feel like you’d get in trouble if he found out you were on a monster hunt, but you know.” He frowned, tilting his head. “Why? What happened?”

“Who’s Mrs. Oracle?” Dean asked, making a face. “Sounds like a fake name.”

“Oracle?” Bobby said slowly. He hummed. “Like the ones from Manhattan?”

Sam blinked. “Yeah. How’d you know that?”

“Been keeping up on a lot more than you boys and your father think I have,” Bobby chuckled.

“Yeah, my dad would kill me, but what he doesn’t know doesn’t hurt him,” Melinda shrugs.

At the question, she bites her lip. “The. Uh. The vision I got at the crime scene… changed. After I cursed Mr. Winchester, I… saw something different happen.”

Sylvia’s eyes bug out. “Okay, granted I’m the normal one, but I am paying attention in Prophecy 101. That’s not supposed to happen.”

“Nope.”

[carol-effing-danvers]

Steve Rogers is a Monster

Yeah, that’s a hell of a title, isn’t it? Strap in, it only gets worse from here. 

(click here if you’d prefer to read this on AO3)

Forewarning, if you enjoyed the epilogue for Endgame, this particular essay is not for you - and no, I am not bashing the Steve/Peggy shippers, you are beautiful human beings who make the fandom brighter and I’m happy that at least someone in this fandom got the ending they wanted.

Additional warning: if you expect this to be another Civil War debate, you will also be disappointed. There has never been a measurement invented that can adequately describe how much I loathe the verbal dick measuring contest that seems to pass for human interaction between Tony Stark and Steve Rogers in this franchise. It’s not funny or entertaining - it’s exhausting, uncomfortable, and frankly it’s rather lazy writing.

This is about the very specific way that the epilogue in Endgame completely changed the way the character of Steve Rogers can be interpreted, and I don’t just mean the very illogical and contradictory way that time travel is explained, both in the movie itself and the fact that the writers and directors have two completely different views on how that worked out. 

I mean that the choice made by Steve Rogers in the very last minutes of that movie alters the way I view each and every one of his actions starting from The First Avenger and that alteration is exactly what I want to talk about, because whether you view it as deserving or not, what Steve does at the conclusion of Endgame was the most selfish thing humanly possible. Time is a thief, but somehow Steve managed to steal even more than Time.

Side note here: I understand that I am a completely biased Stucky shipper, a friend to Barnes and Noble, a Starbucks aficionado - sorry. Anyway, I’ve always believed that Steve and Bucky were destined blah blah blah, but I was never expecting a Stucky ending. Disney wasn’t going to do that, and I knew that, I wasn’t bothered that Steve and Bucky weren’t doing the smoochies by the end. But Bucky’s facial expression during those last minutes was gut-wrenching. Like...I have no idea what kind of cues the script and directors gave him, but in the future, please don’t ask Sebastian Stan to look sad unless you want soul-crushing devastation. It’s not Seb’s fault, his features are just arranged that way - but the fact that the editing staff allowed Sam to be sad though elated to be entrusted with the Shield and Bucky looked like his soul was being physically torn out of his body was an… interesting choice. 

Other side note: if you’re writing about time travel, I’m begging y’all to get your facts straight. Or just don’t write about time travel. It almost always sounds better on paper than it does on screen and it means that you’ve opened doors to more questions than you’ve probably got the answers for. I know this was about trying to set up the idea of the multiverse, I get that, but there were better and less messy ways to do that, and I know that because I’ve done it before. @Marvel: Let me write you a six-way orgy you fucking cowards~

By going back in time, Steve robbed Peggy of the future that would have been hers - not only that, he’s robbed her of even the chance of making the choice between those futures, because you honestly could not tell me with a straight face that Steve told her the complete truth of what he had done and she would be okay with him alternating the very course of the future. It doesn’t help his case that he has a history of not disclosing truths that he knows will be painful or inconvenient for other people in his life.

He robbed his loved ones - Sam, Bucky, Wanda - of the years they would have spent with him. Sure, he ‘came back’ after Peggy passed away, but they are adults in the prime of youth who knew him sixty years ago in his own time and he is an old, old man who has lived an entire life completely separated from them. He is practically a stranger with a name they know, but a history that no longer belongs to any of them - not even his oldest friend. They have him back, but judging from his age, they’ll be lucky to get even ten more years with him. Assuming of course, that any of them can stand to speak to him - I certainly couldn’t blame them if they tell him to go to hell and take his dad jokes with him. 

Steve has stolen away their friend and dropped off an elderly and dying near-stranger in his place, and this is treated by the writing (and the majority of the acting) as a wild and unexpected but not tragic event. 

Is it really that unexpected, though?

I recall seeing a Game of Thrones essay on Daenerys across my dash (I’m sorry, love, I don’t recall who you are since it’s not a fandom I’m in, but if someone knows who wrote that, please post the link!) which detailed how her ending in the series was foreshadowed many times by her penchant for bloody killings and her habit of surrounding herself with her own fawning friends.

Months after reading that, I had the thought: though Steve is never really shown thinking about Peggy after Civil War, except in a few scattered scenes in Endgame, was this foreshadowed? Whether you believe that his actions are justified or not, what Steve does is still, in the end, selfish at its very heart, and Steve Rogers is not a selfish person. 

Oh no, my dear friends and readers. Because taking this action has solidified and clarified Steve Rogers as the biggest and most selfish asshole in this whole universe.

Steve does not do the right thing, Steve does the thing that will most make him feel better. The fact that this often happens to be the right thing in the end is more the result of happy coincidence than any special sort of moral authority that the man holds. 

Rescuing Bucky Barnes and his fellow captives in a prisoner of war camp from being experimented on by an insane Nazi eugenicist? That was not a moral stand, that was endangering himself, Peggy Carter, and Howard Stark because he couldn’t handle the reality of his best friend being killed in war.

Sacrificing himself by putting the Valkyrie down in the Arctic Circle? That was not about sparing human lives, that was about Steve seeing his friend die right in front of him and not being able to deal with the grief. There were ways he could’ve prevented the plane from killing people without killing himself.

Trying to make Bucky remember who he was? And later on, saving him from the government agencies who wanted to hunt him down? Although, arguably, that last one is also just good common sense - Steve was already shown that government agencies could and were corrupted by HYDRA and he’d also seen how dangerous the Winter Soldier could be when unleashed. 

Steve did, I think, truly believe that this was the right thing to do, but it was also about keeping his connection - his very last, since Peggy had descended into dementia caused by Alzheimer’s before she ultimately died - to a past that for him, was only months or years ago, rather than decades. In some ways, this is completely understandable - Bucky might be the very last person left alive who truly knows who the real Steve Rogers is, because the rest of these people only know Captain America and we are consistently shown through multiple movies how uncomfortable this makes him.

This gets...considerably less and less understandable as we are shown Steve’s growing relationships with Natasha, Sam, Wanda - even Sharon, though she barely gets any screen time and they share the most awkward kiss I’ve ever seen - and indeed, what might be the most uncomfortable kiss in cinema history.

Side Note 3: This is made even more awkward by the director’s choice to have two of Steve’s friends watching them the whole time - seriously, who even does that? Why would you make them do that? Only sociopaths make out with their friends staring at them like that. It’s so fucking creepy - and don’t even get me fucking started on the fact that she’s also apparently his own niece. AHHHHH!

But we are shown, over and over again, that Steve is capable of building close meaningful relationships with people in the present. They don’t know his whole history, but they do know Steve Rogers rather than Captain America and they care about him deeply. 

Side Note 4: Notice that I don’t count Tony Stark among those people - despite this strangely persistent narrative that the various writers and directors tried to sell to the audience, Tony and Steve were not friends. They were never friends. They were colleagues at best, but these were two men who neither liked nor understood each other very well, but had to work together. And sometimes that’s okay, too. (Oh dear, I just gave the Stony fans a fit too, didn’t I? Sorry, guys. Enemies to Lovers is a great trope, I support you!)

But let’s set aside Steve’s gross betrayal of the people who loved him. We’ll also ignore the question of whether the motive for these good actions has tainted the actions themselves. Because even without questioning these, the conclusion of this story arc still transforms Steve into the biggest monster this franchise has. 

The very fundamental way that the writers and directors can’t agree on how the time travel mechanics in their own story work mean that Steve has just done one of two things and they range from shady and very questionable to absolutely fucking horrific. 

The first, that he’s created his own alternate universe to exist in, is morally dubious at best. Even the people who support this theory and liked the ending seem to feel that it wasn’t necessarily a ten out of ten on the moral goodness spectrum. They’ll say things like ‘he deserved to have his happy ending’. Even that phrasing seems to acknowledge that doing this was the opposite of the right thing. It just considers doing the wrong thing as being justified rather than horrifying. 

But let’s examine this first idea for a minute - even this, the more innocent of the two implications, means that rather than really processing his grief or dealing with the repeated tragedies and losses that have occured in his life, even as he was running group therapy sessions and grief counseling, Steve Rogers chose to escape his current life by creating an alternate universe that specifically allows he himself to live out his own fucking fantasies of the way his life should have turned out. 

That, in case you are not aware, is wildly fucked up. I thought I was playing pretty fast and loose with Steve’s characterization when I turned him into an extremely polite serial killer but as it turns out, I clearly just wasn’t setting the bar high enough, because that’s somehow even more fucked up than being an undercover child soldier with a small sadistic streak. 

Hm, and now I feel I should have been more creative there...

The second, and even more horrifying option, is that this older Steve Rogers has been in this world the whole time, watching as things unfolded just as we’ve seen over the past decade, taking ‘the slow way’ through time. 

Side Note 5: I do kind of understand why you would do it this way, because that’s really cool and shocking when you say that! Until you think about it for longer than three seconds and suddenly you realize…

Everything that has happened here, every tragedy and downfall these people experienced, happened because Steve Rogers lived his happily ever after with his beautiful wife and did absolutely nothing to stop it. He got to fuck Peggy Carter and watched as his wife built an empire of intelligence networks, knowing that her efforts were completely in vain because her agency was rotten to the core and he never told her.

Every horrifying act committed by HYDRA under the guise of SHIELD was permitted through Steve Rogers’ negligence. And that’s just the wider big-picture worldview, large and shocking, but not personal. 

What about the people that Steve claims to actually care about? 

This means that Steve lived his whole life in contentment with his wife and children while his best friend was physically and psychologically tortured for over seventy years and just...let that go. 

He allowed one friend to murder another in the nineties, when the Winter Soldier was sent after Howard and Maria Stark. Then their child was being advised by a greedy self-interested warmonger who paid terrorists to drag him off to be tortured and slaughtered, and Steve did nothing about that, either. 

Bruce Banner was exploited, experimented on, and made into a monster against his will in the failed pursuit of recreating what was done to Steve, resulting in billions of dollars in damage and dozens or even hundreds of lives lost, and Steve allowed that to happen, too. 

Like Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanov was physically and psychologically tortured for others to use her as a living weapon - except that this was probably happening to her since early childhood, and a man her future self loved and trusted implicitly did nothing to save her from this upbringing. 

The Maximoff twins are shown to have not wealthy but loving parents who are murdered in front of them and they both endure days of laying in the rubble of their ruined apartment, wondering if the bomb in their living room would go off and kill them. Later, they are taken in by HYDRA, experimented on, and recruited as child soldiers to the cause when they show signs of having supernatural powers. They start a series of events that result in the destruction of a major city and the loss of what is probably thousands of lives. Pietro is murdered while trying to help the Avengers to stop this, and Wanda suffers the loss of the very last living person she loved. None of these things seem to have bothered Future Steve. 

Steve “I can’t sit on the sidelines when I see a situation go sideways” Rogers, planted himself on that fucking sideline and observed for nearly eighty years as friends, colleagues, and his own wife were lied to, brainwashed, tortured, vilified, and hunted down like animals.

And then there Steve Rogers himself - not the Endgame Steve Rogers, the Steve Rogers who brought down a Nazi plane and will lie beneath the ice for seventy years while everything he knows disappear (mostly) innocent of these horrors, the life he would’ve lived stolen from him by a stranger with his name and his face from another universe.

What I’m saying here is that if you consider this idea for any amount of time, it took Steve Rogers less than ten minutes to become the most evil and disturbing figure in the entire MCU, only (not really tho) contested by Thanos himself. 

Gross and poorly reasoned libertarian ethics aside, Thanos genuinely believes that he did what he did for the sake of the entire population. It’s made fairly explicitly clear that Steve didn’t do this for anyone but himself. 

Call me crazy, but if everyone you know needs to suffer and multiple planet-wide devestations have to happen in order for you to get your happy ending, you might be the bad guy. 

Maybe I’m just old-fashioned?

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Not Your Average Love Story (SPN x CM)

Sam Winchester x Spencer Reid

Word Count: ~3490

Warnings: Show-level violence, but that’s about it! It’s bizarrely fluffy. 

A/N: My first square for @cmbingo​: “meet the parents.” This is essentially a rewrite of Supernatural 12x01, “Keep Calm and Carry On,” except Spencer and Sam are adorable dorky murder boyfriends. 

Thanks to @fangirlxwritesx67​ for the read-through! 

 When Spencer realizes he’s in love with Sam, he’s on a plane, hoping to make it to Kansas before the sun goes dark. 

He looks out the window at the too-orange light, thinking, this is a weird twist for a love story. He turns that thought over in his mind and realizes: love. 

Oh. 

It takes him by surprise, for some reason, but only for a second. He’s starting to get used to surprises. 

* * *

Spencer has always been self-aware enough to realize that his intellect and his lack of social skills would not make it easy to strike up a traditional relationship. Then, of course, you factor in his obsessive tendencies, his attachment issues, and the stresses of his job, and it’s not actually surprising that he made it past the age of thirty before he fell in love for the first time. Considering how that ended, it’s definitely a surprise — if not a minor miracle — that he’s made it this far with Sam. 

Then again, nothing about their relationship has been predictable. Spencer never guessed he’d meet his future partner while dissecting a dessicated brain. 

Ever since Spencer Reid met Sam Winchester, his life has been one surprise after another. 

* * *

The third unanswered call makes him nervous, but he figures Sam must be asleep, or at least he should be asleep. If Spencer finds himself doing ninety mph in his tiny rental car, it’s mostly because Kansas highways don’t seem to follow the usual laws of physics. They’re flat and endless and eerie in the grey pre-dawn light. 

The moment he opens the door, Spencer knows something is wrong. He spares a wishful thought for his Kevlar, and then he draws his gun, falling automatically into the too-familiar stance as he silently descends the stairs. 

There’s blood on the floor. 

This doesn’t surprise him in the slightest. 

* * *

Spencer tends to spend a lot of time visualizing hypothetical problems and their solutions. He’s good at imagining all the potential outcomes of a particular scenario and calculating their likelihoods based on given variables. He frequently does this at night, instead of sleeping. 

In other words, he worries a lot. 

If he were in a normal relationship he would probably worry about normal things. For example: whether Spencer was misreading the situation, whether it was okay to run a thorough background check on them, and what to wear on a date. What would their first argument be about? What would their parents think of him? What would his mom think of them? 

About thirty-six hours after they met, Sam saved Spencer’s mom from a wraith; first impressions don’t get much better than that. 

The normal worries were rapidly eclipsed by Sam-specific worries. For example: what if he got cursed, what if he got possessed, and were there angels or demons after him this week. Why couldn’t Dean either drive a little slower or get a car with less antiquated safety features? How would Spencer help if Sam got hurt on the job? Should he tell the B.A.U. what he’s been learning about the supernatural? 

He does end up telling them everything; Sam and Dean show up at a crime scene, Hotch almost arrests them, and it turns out that one of the serial killers they’ve been hunting for a decade is actually a skinwalker. 

But the point is that when Spencer sees blood on the floor, he isn’t surprised. He’s visualized this scenario — and several hundred variations on it — before. 

* * * 

He hears a raised voice in the library and takes the steps two at a time. There are two complete strangers there, a blonde woman aiming a gun at a man, and Spencer’s training kicks in before he can figure out why she looks familiar. 

“Federal agent, hands in the air,” he barks. 

He can see the split-second when the woman thinks about turning her gun on him, but she seems to think better of it, and she sets the gun down slowly before putting her hands in the air. 

“Who are you?” the man demands. “What did you do with Sam?”

“What — Sam?” Spencer asks, panic rising in his throat. “Spencer Reid, FBI. Who —” 

“You’re Spencer?” he asks, brow furrowed. 

Spencer realizes: “You’re Castiel.” 

“Whoa, whoa, hey, gun down,” Dean interrupts. “It’s okay! She’s okay, Spence!” 

“Dean? You’re alive?” Castiel grabs him before he can say anything else.  

Spencer lowers his gun slowly. He’s starting to hyperventilate. He wants to know how Dean is still alive, yes, but he’s watching the way they embrace, the smile on Cas’s face and the way Dean’s shoulders seem to drop like he’s relaxing for the first time in a long time, and all he can think about is — 

“Can somebody tell me where the hell Sam is?” Spencer asks, voice cracking embarrassingly. 

“He’s not here,” Castiel says.

The woman looks between Cas and Spencer, eyes wide, and it’s not clear who she’s talking to when she asks, “Who are you?” 

“He’s my —” Dean starts.

Cas cuts him off by saying, “He’s Sam’s —” at the same time Spencer blurts out, “He’s an angel.” 

“Come again?” the woman asks, and when she sees the way Dean shifts nervously, she adds, “Not that, I don’t care about — you said angel?” 

“Angel. You know. Wings, harp.” 

“Not actually,” Spencer tells her, just as Cas scowls and says, “No, I don’t have a harp.” 

“Cas, Spencer,” Dean says, and he pauses, swallowing hard. “This is Mary. Mary Winchester.” 

Spencer and Cas speak in unison again, Cas in a gruff monotone as Spencer’s voice goes squeaky: “Your mother?” 

Of all the things Spencer has worried about, he never thought he would never have to worry about making a bad first impression on Sam’s parents. Sam’s parents are dead. 

Except… apparently not. Apparently Sam’s mom has been resurrected, and Spencer just pulled a gun on her. 

“Nice to meet you,” Mary says softly, with a tentative smile. 

For a second he freezes, staring at her, and his mind starts racing, recalculating, replanning, getting his worrying done after the fact, and Spencer has no idea what to say. He never made a plan for this. 

“Nice to meet you,” he responds, flushing. “Um. Sorry about that.” 

“I’d have done the same thing if I were you.” She smiles, and she doesn’t look much like Sam, but the kindness in her eyes is so very familiar. Spencer’s breath catches. 

“She’s not kidding, shoulda seen the way she pinned me when I tried to introduce myself,” Dean grumbles. Then he turns to Castiel and says, “Tell me what happened to Sam.” 

As Castiel starts to explain the details, Spencer calls Penelope. 

“FBI, office of the brilliant but under-caffeinated,” she says, slightly less chirpy than he’s used to, and Spencer realizes how early it is. Oops. 

“It’s me.” 

“Oh! Boy genius! They did it, huh? Hotch called us back in, like, as soon as the sun came back on, because apparently criminals don’t stop just because the world is ending, or whatever, but he wanted to give you a day at least — hey, are you okay? How’s that handsome lumberjack of yours?” 

“Sam’s missing,” Spencer says without preamble. “I need your help.” 

It takes Penelope approximately a minute to find the car and identify the driver, but the identity of his passenger is a little more elusive. She types away, keys clattering ceaselessly in the background, as Spencer yawns. 

“Got it! Okay, I have a cell number. If you call her, I can track it. You ready?” 

“Dean, give me your phone?” Spencer asks, holding out a hand. “You stay on the line with Penelope. She can tell you as soon as she gets the address.” 

“I can make the call,” Dean says. “I want to have a word with this bitch.” 

“Dean,” Spencer snaps. “First of all, I’m the only person here who’s trained in hostage negotiation. Finding people is literally in my job description.” 

“This isn’t a fuckin’ bank holdup, this is my brother,” Dean retorts. “It’s my job to take care of him.” 

“If you call her a bitch and start in on your threatening macho bullshit, she’s going to hang up, or worse, she’s going to believe you, and then she’ll be trying to get you before you can get to Sam. I know how to talk to people like this. If I can convince her I’m scared, that I’m not a real threat, she might give something away.” 

“But —” 

“Secondly, the only people who know you’re alive are in this room right now, which means you’re our best chance to take her by surprise when we get there, so shut up and let me do my job.” 

“You really think you can find him,” Dean says, and it’s not a question. He holds out his phone with a look of begrudging respect.

“Yes.” 

Spencer thinks, I have to. 

* * *

People aren’t all the same, but if you could quantify the concept of normal, if you could look at it statistically, most people would fall within the standard deviation. Most of their lives take an even, predictable shape, Spencer thinks. There are plenty of other people like them, and they seem to fit with each other, too, interlocking in an easy way that Spencer has always envied. 

Spencer’s got all these awkward uneven edges and strange angles. He’s not normal, and he’s always known that. 

For a long time, he doesn’t think he’ll ever find someone who’ll fit easily, not without changing him, trying to reshape him in some way. He doesn’t want to change, but he gets lonely. Most people (friends, let alone lovers) don’t last long before they get sick of his quirks. Some try longer than others, but one way or another, there’s always some jarring part of him that doesn’t match what they want. 

What if they like to sleep with the windows open, even in the winter? Or if they sleep with the air conditioning cranked up in the summer? Spencer knows he should be better about compromising on little things like that, but he really prefers things a certain way. He knows it’s neurotic. He can’t help it.  

Spencer is used to people staring blankly when he starts talking, but at what point will it drive someone away? When will they stop pretending to care about his Doctor Who opinions? When will they get bored of his info-dumping? 

And then there are the really difficult questions. How does he tell someone he used to be an addict? What if he doesn’t want to tell them about being kidnapped and tortured? What if he does, and then they start asking questions? How does he explain his PTSD, or his nightmares, or his bedtime routine of triple-checking every lock and setting his gun within arm’s reach? 

At first, when he met Sam, Spencer worried about arguments and parents and all the other normal things, but more importantly, he worried about himself. He wondered which of his irregularities would finally make Sam give up on his attempts to fit Spencer into his life. 

Neither of them sleep much, but when they do end up sharing a bed, Sam has his own routine; while Spencer checks the locks, Sam draws warding symbols, lines each window and door with salt, and sets his gun within reach. He likes the windows closed and the thermostat above 68, because, he explains simply, “Lucifer runs cold.” 

Speaking of Lucifer. Sam understands addiction, kidnapping, torture, PTSD, and nightmares, and he doesn’t ask Spencer to tell his stories before he’s ready. Sam has stories of his own. 

Sam also has his own Doctor Who opinions, and those opinions were the cause of their very first argument. Sam is wrong, but Spencer loves that he cares enough to argue. 

The first time Spencer started rambling about serial killers, he noticed Sam frowning and cut himself off, embarrassed, ready to apologize. Sam just pulled out a journal and asked him to repeat what he’d said, so that Sam could do more research on the subject later. 

Sam doesn’t expect him to change. He doesn’t try to re-shape Spencer. His life is just as weird, and by all logic they shouldn’t fit, but they do. And Spencer doesn’t feel any less himself, but suddenly he realizes that he must’ve changed along the way, because he can’t imagine his life without Sam any more; if they can’t find him, his absence is going to tear Spencer apart. 

* * * 

It’s a tense car ride, to say the least. 

Hell of a first impression, Spencer thinks again, glancing at Mary’s pale, worried face in the rearview. 

Castiel and Mary are in the backseat, and they’re trying to make small talk, but Castiel seems to be about as good as Spencer at the whole “casual conversation” thing. Sam’s told him so much about Castiel, Spencer feels like he knows him, but they’ve never actually crossed paths before. 

And then there’s Dean, who’s got his jaw clenched, staring straight ahead. Spencer gives him directions, and he grunts or nods, but he doesn’t say anything else. 

Dean intimidates the hell out of him, but they’ve always gotten along fine, maybe because Spencer’s never yelled at him before. He’s very aware that arguing with Dean Winchester is usually fruitless at best (and deadly at worst), but he’s never been good at holding his tongue when he’s upset. 

“I’m sorry,” Spencer manages to mutter eventually.  

“Huh?” Dean looks at him, frowning. 

“About earlier. I didn’t mean to — um.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Dean says gruffly. 

“I was upset. I’m sorry.” 

Dean shrugs, and he hesitates before adding, “You were right.” He looks as surprised to be saying it as Spencer is to hear it. 

Spencer blinks at him a couple times before hurriedly saying, “Turn left. There.” 

Cas and Mary are having a quiet conversation about the weirdness of technology, and Spencer is about to join them when Dean speaks up again. 

“Garcia — she said something funny.”

“Uh oh.” 

Dean snorts. “Nah, not like that. Before she hung up, she told me not to worry. Said of everybody she knows, Sam probably has the second-best odds of escaping any poor sap who tries to abduct him.” 

“Second best?” 

“That’s what I said. But apparently that title belongs to you.” 

“I wouldn’t bet on it. All I can do is talk myself out, he’s stronger.” Spencer gives him a crooked attempt at a smile; it feels awkward on his face, but he means it when he says, “He’ll be okay.”

* * * 

The funny thing is, Spencer has been in this situation before. 

When it was Maeve, though, he panicked, because all he could think about was how she must feel: scared, helpless. Spencer has too much empathy sometimes. Imagining Maeve’s helplessness made him feel like he was drowning. 

This is different. He’s not exactly zen about the whole situation, of course; it feels like a piece of him is missing, but he’s clear-headed, because he knows that Sam is anything but helpless. He trusts Sam to take care of himself.  

Aside from the supernatural element, Sam’s job is astoundingly similar to Spencer’s, and he’s astoundingly good at it. The Winchesters have consulted on a couple cases, now, for the B.A.U. (Spencer’s still not sure how Hotch manages the paperwork) and they try to find cases in the same general area as wherever Spencer winds up, so they’ve gotten to work together a few times. Sam’s sheer competence at his job might be the most attractive thing Spencer has ever seen. 

Spencer used to imagine a quiet, mundane romance. He always just assumed he’d find someone whose life was more normal than his, and he was resigned to the stress it would cause in a relationship. He’d forget to call, he’d miss dinner, he’d have to cancel plans and be absent from so much of what constituted a normal domestic life, and his partner would be left at home, alone, all too aware of how much danger Spencer could be in, helpless to do anything about it. 

Instead, Spencer found Sam. Spencer never has to feel guilty about missing dinner, because Sam isn’t at home worrying about him. Sam is out there saving the world. 

Sam is not going to wait for Spencer to rescue him; he might not even need rescuing, at this point. Instead of worrying about what Sam is doing and whether he’s scared, Spencer can focus on his own plan. 

* * * 

He and Dean circle slowly around the house. They spot the entrance to the basement, and Dean almost runs right to it, but Spencer grabs his arm and points to the sigils around the door. 

Spencer notices movement through a window next to the back door, and when they creep up to get a glimpse inside, he sees two women. One is the blonde — the brains of the operation — and the other is stockier, clearly the muscle. 

After a quick conversation in whispers and gestures, Dean sneaks around to the side of the house opposite the basement, and a second later Spencer hears him shout. He waits a couple seconds and glances in the window again, and sure enough, the bigger woman is gone while the blonde is watching something on a computer monitor, looking agitated. Security cameras, maybe. 

Spencer is about to go inside when he sees the blonde start, look around, and grab a cattle prod. Then she’s hurrying toward a door, sliding back a heavy deadbolt, and Spencer sees a dark stairwell that must lead to the basement. 

He slips through the door and follows her. 

For a split-second, the scene in the basement almost stops his heart. Sam is lying on the floor, completely still, his head surrounded by a puddle of blood. 

But before Spencer can really process what he’s seeing, let alone react, Sam is in motion: lashing out, grabbing her by the throat, shoving her against the wall. Spencer descends the stairs quietly with his gun at the ready, trying not to make any noise that might distract Sam right now. 

Sam doesn’t need his help. There’s blood on his damp clothes and his arms are shaking as the blonde goes limp in his grip, but he’s alive; he doesn’t need Spencer’s help, and Spencer isn’t the slightest bit surprised. 

When Sam turns and sees him, he doesn’t look surprised either. He just smiles, all dimples and sparkling eyes in spite of his obvious pain as he limps over. 

“Sorry that took me so long,” Spencer says casually, trying to control his grin. He doesn’t want to holster his gun yet, so he keeps it trained on the woman and hugs Sam one-armed. 

Sam wraps his arms around Spencer, holding on tight. Spencer rests his forehead on Sam’s shoulder, taking a second to breathe as he feels missing pieces sliding neatly into place. 

“Love you,” Sam says, and the words sound like a sigh of relief. He pulls back, and he looks surprised, like he didn’t actually mean to say that out loud. 

Spencer’s about to reply when he sees the woman struggling to her feet, reaching for her cattle prod, and so instead he says, “Look out.” 

Sam steps sideways to give him a clear shot. Spencer shoots her in the thigh and she screams as she falls to the floor. 

“See how you like it,” Sam tells her, with a vicious little smile. 

“I love you too,” Spencer blurts out. 

For a second they both pause, grinning at each other like idiots, their surroundings forgotten.

Then there’s a sound from overhead, and Sam asks hurriedly, “The other one. Did you take her out already?”

“Dean’s got her,” Spencer tells him. “We should check on him, then we can come back down and deal with — Sam?” 

At first he can’t figure out why Sam’s mouth drops open like that, shocked and disbelieving. Then he remembers. 

“Dean’s alive?” Sam asks, a smile spreading slowly over his face. Spencer nods, wrapping an arm around Sam’s ribs, supporting him as he limps gingerly toward the stairs. It feels like he’s forgetting something.

There’s another noise, and then Mary is in the doorway, looking down at them. 

Oh. 

Sam turns to Spencer silently, like he’s waiting for confirmation that she’s real. 

Spencer nods. “Yeah. So — um. Surprise?” 

Sam doesn’t actually seem all that surprised, because… of course he doesn’t. He blinks at Spencer a couple times and then he grins. 

“You met my mom before I did,” Sam says, breathless and amused, and grabs the banister to haul himself up the stairs. Spencer laughs and follows him, smiling to himself. 

It’s not your average “meet the parents” scene, but somehow, it fits Sam and Spencer perfectly. 

Nothing about their love story has been normal. Why start now? 

.

.

.

[kyber-kisses]

Where Nothing Stays Buried

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: violence, cursing, blood, spn level gore.

Bad Things Happen Bingo

Square filled: Blood from mouth

Summary: When the reader is hit by an unknown curse, things suddenly turn for the worse in the bunker.

A/N: So this is hella long and I have no idea how to feel about it, but I hope you guys enjoy this hot mess!

“I fucking hate witches, have I ever told you that?”

“About half a million times, Dean. But thank you for reminding me.” You sighed, letting out a yawn near the end of your sentence as you adjusted the straps of your duffel.

The two of you descended the stairs of the bunker, the metal steps creaking slightly beneath you with each step. The hunt had practically been a milk run. A witch a few towns over had been using communing with a spirit of some sort to pit people against each other. The witch was now six feet under and lives were saved. The whole thing had been wrapped up in less than a week and now you and Dean were back home, Sam having chosen to stay behind this time around.

“But seriously, they’re gross and creepy and I hate them immensely.”

“I know, Dean.” Sliding off the straps of your pack, you dropped it onto the map table.

“We still on for movie night, tonight?” Dean questioned, siding up besides you as he began unloading the weapons from his bag onto the table.

“Dude it’s -“ you reached over and grabbed his wrist, flipping it over to look at his watch. “9:30 at night.”

“But. . . Butch and Sundance.”

“Can wait one more day.” You smiled, giving him a pat on the shoulder as you turned. “I’m gonna go shower. I smell like roadkill.”

And just like that you were gone, disappearing down one of the many hallways of the bunker. Dean watched you go, eyes fixed one the corner you had just rounded.

“Well that’s adorable.”

Deans head spun to look towards the library, watching as his brother leaning against one of the pillars.

“You shut up.”

“All I said was that's adorable.”

“Yeah, and I told you to shut up.” Dean hissed, jabbing a finger at his brother before snatching up his own bag and leaving the room.

*. *. *. *. *. *.

Around an hour later you found yourself standing at the kitchen counter, the bunker mostly silent as you made yourself a sandwich. Sam was seated at the kitchen table, typing away at something on his laptop, and the last you saw of Dean he was in the library rifling through one of the lore books.

“I didn’t have time to ask earlier, but how was the hunt?”

“It was fine.” You shrugged, licking a crumb off your finger as you continued to assemble your meal. “Thing was practically a milk run. It was almost too easy.”

“Dean told me the two of you got thrown around a lot.”

“Well witches are bitches.” You nodded, picking up the kitchen knife besides you. “But we’re both fine. . . I mean I think Deans a little disheartened that I didn’t want to do a movie night tonight, but he’ll get over that.”

“End it.”

Eyebrows suddenly drawing together in confusion, you looked back over your shoulder at Sam, the hunters eyes still glued to his screen. “What did you say?”

“ I didn’t say anything.”

“Are you sure? I could have sworn-“

“They’re playing you.” The voice came out of nowhere, like a soft breeze, barely audible to even your own ears. You shook your head. You were tired, that was all. You were just hearing things.

But not a second later a wave of warmth rippled through every nerve in your body . For a moment you tried to fight it, unsure exactly what was happening, but you quickly gave up. It wasn’t painful or scary, it was almost as if a heated blanket had been wrapped around you. Your body instantly calmed, shoulders relaxing.

okay, weird. Maybe it was just your body relaxing after a long day. Nothing to worry about

After a second your eyes were suddenly found interest in drifting towards the kitchen knife in your hand. The reflection from the overhead light refracting off the clean metal as you turned it in your hand. You pressed a finger to the top of the blade, not enough to break skin, but just enough to leave an indent.

“Move.”

At the sound of the voice, you did. Your body remaining relaxed as you turned on your heel and headed out of the kitchen, knife still in hand and Sam still too busy to notice.

As you stalked down the hallway, your strides full of purpose, you felt your fingers flex against the handle, almost as if trying to fight the movement all together. At the far end of the hallway, Dean walked into view, a book balanced in his forearm as he read. He glanced up from the page for a half a second, acknowledging your existence, and then looked back down.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Throw it.”

It was only when Dean glanced back down at his book that he had to do a double take, looking up just in time with wide eyes to see you pull your arm back, and with a light hop in your step, throw the kitchen knife down the hallway. Your steps not even faltering even after the utensil left your palm.

The hunter quickly ducked as the knife flipped end over end before burying itself in the wall behind him with a solid thwunk, the handle quivering from the impact. With wide eyes Dean looked up at the blade and then back to you.

“Y/N, what the hell?!”

There was no answer from you as you closed the distance between you and him. Still stunned by what had just happened, Dean didn’t have time to brace himself before you were sweeping your leg underneath him and knocking him to the floor, pinning him beneath you instantly.

“Y/N!”

He could see that you were winding up, your hand pulling back. In whatever way he could to stop you, his own fingers wrapped around your wrists, struggling to keep you from plowing foreword. Unfortunately that didn’t help, and even though your wrist was locked in his grasp, you brought your elbow upward, slamming it into his chin. Losing his hold on you his hand slipped.

Possession. It had to be possession. . . Or maybe a hex bag? One of those two.

As you delivered the first solid punch, the voice continued to coax you foreword, whispering softly into your ear. You listened. Giving yourself fully over to the force rippling through you.

“Y/N- listen to me-“ Dean gasped, eyes wide as he watched you bring your hand back. “Somethings- somethings wrong.”

Another solid punch had his head knocking back against the linoleum floor, a groan leaving his lips. He didn’t notice the commotion down the hall until your weight of your body was gone and you were suddenly being pulled off him by two strong sets of hands.

Gasping in a lungful of air, he slid back, his back hitting the wall as he tried to gather himself. Both Sam and Cas were holding you tightly back as you tried to lunge at Dean, a fire blazing in your eyes.

“Let me go!”

“Y/N-“

Clearly they were trying to keep their hold on you somewhat loose as if to not hurt you, but that was a terrible idea because you managed to fight them off and throw yourself forward as Dean again. His hunter reflexes kicked in before he could stop and all of a sudden he was driving his fist into your jaw, making you stumble back.

This time Sam and Cas grabbed you with more force, looping their arms underneath your armpits as they pulled you back.

“Dean, what the hell is going on?!”

“Does it look like I fuckin know?!” Using the back of his hand to wipe the blood away from his mouth, he watched the two struggle to keep you back.

He had punched you. He could see the welt already forming on your jaw. What the hell was happening?

“We need to tie her down-“ Sam struggled with the words, your strength still being difficult to keep under control.

“The dungeon.” Cas spoke, looking to Sam for approval before the two were pulling you down the hallway. Your heels kicked against the floor as you were dragged backwards screaming.

And then the words to leave your mouth had Dean heart stop in his chest momentarily.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you!” You screamed, face pulled up in pain as you struggled. Your eyes both glassy and full of rage as you fought. “I hate you! I fucking hate you!”

A second later you were dragged around the corner, you yells continuing to echo through the bunker. Trying to process what was happening, Dean slumped back against the wall, eyes full of confusion and pain.

Something happened on that case that he didn’t see. . . Because that wasn’t you. Not at all.

*. *. *. *. *. *.

Twenty minutes later, Dean found himself seated at one of the library tables, an ice pack pressed firmly to his eye. He had tried to go see you after you had been dragged into the dungeon, but one thing was very clear : Whatever was infecting you was making you target him. Sam and Cas had told him it wasn’t a good idea to be within your line of sight.

“She still angry as a little viper?” Dean mumbled, his eyes cast downward when he heard the two enter the room. He knew that answer though already. You had practically been screaming nonstop for the last twenty minutes. The sounds muffled by the walls of the bunker.

“Yeah. She’s locked down. She’s not getting free of the bindings we put on her.” Sam sighed, sinking into one of the vacant seats across from him. It was only when Dean finally looked up, did a hiss escape his teeth. Clearly you had gotten a few good licks in with both Sam and Cas. The two sporting several welts and scratches.

“Jeez.”

“Yeah. Let’s just say she’s not holding back or pulling her punches.” Sam winced.

“It’s gotta be possession. It’s gotta be.”

“We already checked. It’s not.” Cas butted in. “Plus, she has an anti-possession tattoo, remember?”

“So then it’s a hexbag.”

“Guess again. We didn’t find anything on her.”

“Well then what the hell is happening to her?” Dean picked up his head fully. It felt like his thoughts were moving at a million miles an hour. “She was fine when we got back.”

“I don’t know. Could be a curse maybe?” Sam shrugged. “Something that latched onto her during the case?”

There was a pause as Dean sucked in his lips, silently contemplating what to do. “I want to see her.”

“Dean, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. She seems to be the most angry at you. I mean, she did attack me and Cas as well but. . . Even just the mention of your name while we were in there made her go ballistic.”

Dean ignored his brother, instead moving to push himself out of his seat, dropping the ice pack on the table. “Well we cant help her if we’re all just sitting her twiddling our thumbs.” He paused again, looking back down at his hand. “. . . I hit her Sam.”

“It was instinct. You were protecting yourself.”

“It doesn’t matter, Cas! I punched her and I-“ Dean knew he shouldn’t feel guilty but he couldn’t help it. He had hurt you. You. One of the people he cared about the most. He needed to make this right. He needed to help you.

*. *. *. *. *.

Struggling against the stiff bindings keeping your arms securely bound to your chest, you leaned forward in your seat, taking in the shackles on your ankles. The room was empty aside from yourself. Sam and Cas having locked you in here a good five minutes ago.

“They’re talking about you, you know.”

“Let them.”

A sudden shadow off to your side suddenly caught your attention, making you look up. You thought you were alone. Clearly that was not correct.

“You’re the voice I’ve been hearing.”

“That I am.”

The shadow slowly slid into the light, revealing a thin figure wrapped in black. She moved like smoke, her hair long and a shade of purple so dark that you originally thought it was black when you first looked. Hers eyes shining like molten golden. A soft smile played on her dark lips as she moved foreword.

“Who are you?”

You see, for most people in this situation they would be scared out of their minds. But that didn’t happen. Not to you at least. All you felt was calm, the same way one might feel when held in their mothers arms.

“A god. But that doesn’t matter.” Her smile widened as she dragged a nail across your cheek. “What matters is that I’m helping you.”

“Oh.”

At that same time, the doors to the dungeon were pulled back open by one Dean Winchester, his brother and Cas standing behind him. You expected them to say something, to direct their attention towards the unknown woman besides you, but then you realized it was because they couldn’t see her.

Only you could.

“Look at them. So oblivious to the pain they’ve brought you.” She tutted, head tilting slightly in amusement.

You looked past Dean as if he wasn’t there, instead directing your attention towards Sam. “Sam, let me out.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Let. Me. Out.” Taking time to sound out each word, you began your struggle against your bindings once more. It was like there was in itch underneath your skin, and the only way to get rid of it was to attack.

“Y/N, we wanna help you.” Dean tried, attempting to take a step closer, only for you to lash out even more. He stepped back.

“He’s lying. They don’t help people. All they do is send them to their deaths.” The woman whispered, leaning down close to your ear. “Think about it.”

“You even listening to us?”

Your eyes blazed again as you looked up through the strands of hair hanging over your eyes. “I want you dead. . . I want you all dead.”

That caught them slightly off guard. The three men sharing a look between them like they didn’t know what to do.

“Look at you.” The figure cooed, hand coming to cup you cheek. The contact making you relax slightly. “They cause you nothing but suffering. Don’t you want to be free of it all?”

“Yes.”

“Think about it. How you’ve lost so many friends because they roped them into to helping them fight their battles.”

It was like throwing fuel onto a fire, and like a million times before you attempted to lunge foreword. The rage running through you like a wild animal.

“You’re terrible people! You keep getting the people I care about killed!” You snapped, almost on the verge of tears. “It’s like we’re all pawns in your game! Charlie, Bobby, Kevin-“

You ignored the heartbreak on Deans features. The hunter clearly losing his battle at hiding his emotions.

“Unravel him.”

“Am I next? The next person in your line of sacrifices? The next person to give up their life to keep you going?”

“It has never been like that. Ever!” Dean swallowed thickly, trying to keep his voice from cracking.

“Liar.” You paused, suddenly a new idea was slipping into your brain. “You know what, let’s make this all easier. Instead of waiting for my eventual death to come, no doubt somehow because of you. . . Just kill me now.”

“Y/N-“ Dean choked out your name like he couldn’t believe what you were saying. “Don’t say that.” One second you wanted them dead, and now you wanted them to kill you. He didn't know which was worse.

“Why not? It’s true isn’t it? I’d finally be free of you, and all the death that follows you. If I can’t kill you-“ you gestured to your restrains keeping you from going anywhere. “this is the next best option.”

“Y/N, we care about you. We’re not going to do that.” Cas spoke up, reminding you that he was there.

“They’re trying to pull you in. Don’t let them. They think your weak.”

“If you care about me, you’ll kill me.”

Dean opened his mouth as if to speak, but only snapped it shut once more. Shaking his head he pressed passed his brother and Cas. He couldn’t be around this. This was a whole other type of pain.

*. *. *. *. *. *.

Three days.

Three days of combing through the lore for anything that might point them in the right direction, and nothing. Resting his chin in his palm, Dean flipped the page of the book he was currently reading through. Sam sat across from him in a similar position. They had barely gotten any sleep in days, too busy trying to find a way to help you. A moment later, Cas was walking back into the room, even the angel had a tired expression.

“Well?”

“Well, she is still refusing to eat and I can’t remember the last time she actually drank the water we brought her.”

Dean cursed under his breath. Along with the violence and hurtful words, you now refused to cooperate. It was like you were trying to get them to snap.

“I’ll go check on her.”

“Dean-“

Dean was already down the steps before either of them could stop him. “don’t try and stop me.”

You were exactly where they last left you, your head hanging low up until the point in which Dean stepped into the room. At the sound of his foot pattern you looked up. The fire in your eyes still hadn’t gone out, and he could practically see the fury radiating off of you in waves.

“Well look who decided to visit.”

“I didn’t come here to talk.” Letting out a deep sigh, he knelt down to inspect your restraints, making sure they hadn’t loosened at all.

“You finally come here to finish me off like I asked?” Flexing your fingers you leaned foreword, the hunter looking up to find his face inches from your own.

“I ain’t killing you. Ever.”

“You’re just a pawn in their game. They will still be ready to sacrifice you at a moments notice for the greater good. That’s all you are. An pawn.”

Rising back to his feet, Dean made his way around you to check the chains keeping you to the chair. The heavy metal had been looped several times around you, a lock fastening it to a ring at the base of the chair.

“Do you know how many people would still be alive if you hadn’t let them wander into your lives? So many. It’s a miracle I’ve lasted this long.”

Closing his eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath, the hunter tried to ignore your words. You were trying to make him snap.

“Stop talking-“ he began, only for his words to fall short as he glimpsed something beneath the collar of your shirt. Taking a step back he tilted his head before suddenly rushing to pull down the back of your shirt. “What the hell?”

With a newfound urgency the older Winchester dove his hand into the pocket of his jeans to fish out his phone. Snapping a quick picture he was gone before you could use anymore words against him.

The hallway towards the library had never felt longer as he rushed through it, eyes fixated on the photo.

“Sam, I think I got something!”

Both heads turned quickly as he entered the library, his feet momentarily sliding on the wooden floor.

“Good, because I think I got something too.” Turning the book around on the tabletop he pushed it towards Dean and Cas before taking Deans phone from his extended hand and looking down at the picture. “That’s what I thought.”

“What is it?”

“It’s the five fingered hand of Eris.”

“. . . Okay I’m gonna need a bit more than that, Sam.”

The hunter sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Eris is the Greek goddess of strife and discord. it says here that she’s marks her victims with the symbol, basically feeds them lies and tries to pit them against others.”

“Goes it say why she keeps lashing out more towards me, and not you? I mean she aint giving any of us friendly looks, me especially.”

“It says the stronger the emotional attachment, the stronger the hold. but that's about it.” Sam shrugged.

“Alright, then how do we stop it? Get rid of the symbol?”

“Um- give me a sec.” swinging the book back around, Sam flipped through a few pages before stopping. “Yeah, you can stop it but— oh.”

“Oh? What’s that mean oh? Was that a good oh or a bad oh?

“There’s not exactly a spell to get rid of it.”

“Not exactly?” Dean repeated, looking back over his shoulder at Cas who merely shrugged.

Sam pressed his lips together. Dean wasn’t gonna like this. He wasn’t gonna like this one bit. Hell, he didn’t like this- but it was the only option in the book.

“Sam?”

“All we need is a silver knife.”He could see Dean buffering, the hunter trying to put two and two together. He gave him another minute before adding “we have to cut it out of her.”

“what?” Suddenly Deans voice was much quieter, the man taking a step back from the table. “no, there has to be another way.”

“This is literally the only way to stop it. There is no other way.”

Dean already felt terrible for hitting you that one time, and now they were telling him they had to literally carve out a symbol that was basically branded to your back? No. That was too much.

“You can’t ask me to do that.”

“You don’t have to. I can do it, but someone needs to hold her down. We can’t do it if she’s chained to that chair.” Already rising from his own seat, Sam looked past Dean towards Cas. “Do you still have that blade we found in that crypt a few months back?”

“Yes.”

“Then that should work.” Sam nodded, it was only when he and Cas were at the door did they realize Dean had yet to move.

“Dean.”

Snapping out of the zone, the hunter nodded before quietly following them. Just the thought of bringing harm to you was too much. The image making his stomach flip.

The three made quick work of releasing you from the confining chains, the metal clanging against the cement floor of the dungeons as they slid from your body.

“Finally come to kill me like I asked?” You spoke, eyes glancing towards the blade in Sam’s palm. The younger Winchester remained silent, watching as Dean suddenly replaced the thick chains you had grown accustom to with a pair of handcuffs.

What happened next was so fast that you barely registered it. Dean suddenly tugged you firmly against his chest, locking his arms around you. The action made you struggle in his grasp as he sunk to his knees, bringing you down with him. It would be easier keeping you still this way.

“What the hell are y-“

It was Cas who stepped in next, pressing two fingers to your temple. Dean wasn’t exactly sure what the angel was doing but he felt you slightly loosen in his arms, your struggling slowly stilling as you panted.

“Sam, do it.”

The hunter didn’t need to be told twice before he was pulling up the back of your shirt. The marking was nestled between your shoulder blades and was almost the size of Deans palm. It looked like a brand, two opposing arrows converging at a common point.

“Hold her still.”

“I fucking am-“ Dean hissed through his teeth, turning his head away as Sam brought the tip of the blade to your flesh. Dean didn’t need to be told what was happening because a second later that’s when you started to scream, lurching in his arms. The heat from your breath seeped into the fabric of his shirt as you cried out, struggling in his grip.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry-

That was the only thing running through his head as he buried his face in your shoulder, clutching you tighter to keep you from moving. Soon enough your screams mixed with sobs and Dean couldn’t tell if he was feeling your tears or his own. For the longest time Dean thought he could never truly feel someone else’s pain, but those screams of yours came close. They ripped through him like shards of glass and brought a whole new type of agony. The worst part was it felt like it went on for an eternity, but once it stopped, Dean was still afraid to loosen his hold. Your screams faded into sobs and your weight fully fell into him, face buried in his shoulder.

“Please tell me it’s over.”

At the sight of Sam pulling away with bloody hands, Deans stomach lurched again. That was your blood.Yours.

“It’s over.” Sam looked towards Cas, the angel lifting his hand from your temple before touching it to your back. A warm light spilled over you skin momentarily and then he was pulling back.

“I’ve healed most of it, but she still needs bandages.”

Seeing that Dean wasn’t going to be moving, Sam nodded already moving towards the door. “I’ll go get em. I need to wash my hands anyways.”

“Okay-“ Dean sucked in a lungful of air, suddenly feeling as if he had just run a marathon. “Okay.”

The worst part was over.

*. *. *. *. *. *.

The bunker was quiet. At least much more than it had been before. As Dean made his way down the dimly lit hallway he saw that your room was still empty. It had been for the past week, ever since they cut that marking out of you. Moving past your door way, he stepped into the dungeon, knocking on the door frame to alert you of his presence.

“You gonna come out and join us for dinner?”

“No.”

“Y/N, you’ve barely eaten.” Dean sighed, stepping into the room. “Plus, you need to sleep in an actual bed. Not on the floor.”

Your back was facing him, knees tucked into your chest as you let your hand run over the devils trap beneath you. “I’m not leaving.”

Another sigh. He knew you would say that. Even though the symbol was off of you, you were terrified you might hurt someone again. . . So you had chosen to stay in the dungeon. Sam and Cas had taken off your restraints days ago but you had clamped a shackle back over your ankle for good measure.

“You’re not gonna hurt anyone. Sam got that thing off of you.”

You couldn’t allow yourself to face him. Your eyes instead going to your hands. “We don’t know that. . . “ you paused, eyes stinging with inside tears. “I hurt you. I said terrible, awful things to you- I tried to kill you.”

“It was a curse. That happens.”

“If it was the other way around, could you let it go?”

Silence.

“That’s what I thought.”

Suddenly Dean was kneeling down in front of you, big jade eyes staring at you with tenderness. “It’s not your fault.”

“I just- I don’t want you believing anything of what I said. I don't want you thinking for even a second that I hate you.”

“I don’t.”

“I told you guys that you use your friends like pawns. That it’s your fault that we’ve lost people. . . That’s not- that’s not true.” You stumbled on the words, finding it difficult to speak.

“Hey, hey it okay. I get it.” He squeezed your shoulder before pulling you into a hug. “I went through something similar when I had the mark of Cain. I was spitting out stuff that wasn’t true as well.”

“How can you forgive me?”

“The same way you forgave me when I had the mark.” Dean mumbled against your hairline. “Now how bout we get you out of here and get back to normal?”

“How do we do that?”

“One step at a time.”

“. . .I really am sorry.”

“I know.”

SPN Taglist: (Still Open)

@familybusinesswritingbro@a–1–1–3 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @music-is-all-i-need @agusdoti @callmekda @jordangdelacruz @orphiceseum @andthatsmyworld @marvelfangirllll @fandomnerdespressourself @gladiosamicitias @castielsangelsx @lxstgxrl-ck @tis-i-the-wayward-idgit @amendoise @phoenixuprisingsstuff @ericalynne007 @kaitlaitlaitl  @totallyluciferr @supernaturalenchanted @dolanfivsosxox@supernatural-ocs @emptycanvasposts @akshi8278 @defenderrosetyler @heyyy-hey-babyyy @supernaturalenchanted@emptycanvasposts @vicmc624 @all-will-be-well-love@busy-bee-angel-misska @starsandmidnightblue @lilulo-12fanfiction @beanie-beebo @xoxoaudreymarie @greenarrowhead @mrsjenniferwinchester  @mysticalfuncollectorus @brebolin @biahblue @noahandthegiraffe @hhiggs @mila-dans @mrsmaybankhere @malindacath  @littleagxs @deanwanddamons @idksupernatural​

[unscrxpted]

"Yeah, maybe you should've left out the salt, because there's only two things it keeps away and you sure as hell don't look like a ghost." Sam lifted his chin slightly, examining the... almost tiny man. He didn't trust anything this Crowley had to-

"What?" He reeled back, confused. "My mom didn't burn anywhere, and definitely not on a ceiling. She was drained, by a vampire sixteen years ago- who the fuck is Jessica?! I'm used to monsters not making sense, but this is just-" He shook his head. "You clearly have the wrong Sam Winchester, Crowley."

changingthelegacy​:

Sam slowly narrowed his eyes. He looked around, half plotting an escape, half making sure nobody heard the weird. He pulled out a small water pistol and held it at waist height, pointed at the man.

“I don’t know you,” he said firmly, making direct eye contact, “and I don’t know how you know my name. But whatever and whoever you are, I’m not interested, and you have about thirty seconds to explain why I should be before you get a nasty burn from some holy water. Clear?”

“Don’t know who or what I am, how I know you–but you know holy water will work? Why? Because I mentioned the salt? Always thought calling you ‘the smart one’ was a bit of a reach.

“–Name’s Crowley, darling. Slight snaffu with a spell ripped a hole in the timeline and I fell through. Lucky fucking me, eh? Let’s see. You’re…”

“…mmm, prepubescent. But that still means Mummy died…what? Thirteen years ago? Burned to death on the nursery ceiling, if memory serves, just like poor Jessica is supposed to. I can help you avoid that.”

[fixeddawn]

Boy do I love this blog so, so much.

Was there a New Moon in the AU? Or did Bella put a stop to that nonsense immediately.

(Spoilers for the story Clotho (The Moirai Saga) ahead, beware!)

Edward: "Okay so what had happened was-"

-Bella and Alice appear, shoving him out of the way with a squeak-

Alice: "GURL YOU KNOW HE'S STILL AN IDIOT."

Bella: "I- ugh, I tore him a new asshole when he told me he didn't actually love me, and he got me FUCKED up, but he still left. It was rough, especially when my powers started acting up and I started having panic attacks and meltdowns. The wolf pack over here is a bunch of different families, all somewhat Irish, they're descendants of the people of Ossory. Jakes grand-dad immigrated here in the 60's. Actually, OI, JACOB-"

-Jacob shoves into the room, but knocks his head on the doorframe on the way in.-

Jake: "FUCK. Finally man, the Boyz can talk!

Bella: "Eagan (Embry) Got you saying that now too, huh?"

Jake: "Ye, it's funnier. Anyway, shit happened WAY different than in the original plot line. Bella and I still got to be friends, and she hung out with my fam a lot, we have massive bonfires cause my dads the youngest of eight kids.

I helped her find her own place actually! My auntie had a 2 bedroom 2 bath house for rent cheap and she took it on the promise of painting it and shit. Of course then she got mixed up in all of our chaos, especially with the pub my dad runs in town, we got the Blacks, and the O'Clearys and the Udys, three old bloodlines. Bella actually found out about the pack by accident, I uh...I had a massive crush on her and she wasn't ready and stuff got tense and I just...poof, y'know?"

Bella: -makes exploding hand gesture- "Poof."

Jake: "Paul didn't like it at first but she became a member of the pack, we don't really imprint like...romantically, it's super rare, but mostly we imprint familial-y, Bella kept helping Emily cook and clean up and deal with a bunch of rowdy guys. (we got put to work too, don't worry) And she just meshed. She also became our field medic. It got so bad that if we weren't at The Farm, we were probably sprawled out on Bella's living room couch and floor, passed out.

Bella: "It was like snow white and the 7 goofy werewolves, it was great. Leah disliked me at first, but she still went through that thing with Sam, so she was struggling. We actually bonded over the whole "Fuck having a supernatural Ex" thing. Girls gotta support each other, you know? She and Emily also made up with a little time. When I was having my nightmares, facing all the shit that was going down alone and helpless, I told her about them. She's a professional kickboxer! She's fucking badass!! I begged her to train me and kept shoving cash at her until she let me hire her. I was USELESS at first, but she ran me hard, and eventually I could even hold my own in a fight against (human) Seth! All the while, Jake here was finding it hard to keep it in his pants, but he was really my rock, I tried to do everything I could to support him through his change and the aftermath, but it...well. You know who I married. -she cringes, Jake puts an arm around her shoulder for a rough squeeze and a small smile, obviously forgiving-

Jake: My crush was hard man, it still is low-key, (J: 👀 B: 😑) but...well, her panic attacks were still coming. And one night we were dancing, and I...well..."

Bella: "We kissed, I was so desperate to move on, feel something else, but I panicked. It wasn't right."

Jake: "She bolted from the party, ran into the woods, I remember screaming, and then this awful earsplitting sound, and a shockwave.

Bella: "....I kinda, blew down like 30 square feet of the forest around me. Thats when I realized all the popping lightbulbs and shaking surfaces weren't earthquakes...but, well, me. It was the worst panic attack I've ever had. So now, my vampire Bf dumped me, my best friend is a werewolf, and I can fuck shit up with my mind on accident when I'm highly emotional. Queue complete mental breakdown."

Jake: "...Then the redhead showed up."

Bella: "Victoria...she killed my coworker, my friend, horribly, gave him the same injuries James did to send the message. We realized she would start going after the people I was close to if she couldn't get to me. I pretty much hunkered down at The Farm after that, the pack did rounds and tried to protect so much land...I was terrified someone was going to get hurt. When she attacked The Farm, we were blindsided. She caught Seth around his chest and almost crushed him. I was terrified, I managed to use one of my "Bubbles" to blow her away from both of us so I could get him to safety and reset his ribs."

Alice: "And all 𝘐 saw was victoria closing in on Bella from above for a third of a second, when she let out her bubble, so, ofc, I thought she was dead and immediately bolted back to Pullman. Everyone else came too, Carlisle, Esme, Emmett, Jasper... We were so shocked Victoria went after her and 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘴.

"We found out, when we arrived at her apartment and she was still alive and being guarded by werewolves, that it was because my dumbass brother never gave her my goodbye letter, and lied to both sides about his intentions for what happened that day in the woods. He told the family he was going to tell her the truth, that he was going to take himself away from the situation and see if she couldn't move forward, if she couldn't have a human life. Not that he was going to lie to her that he "found out it was infatuation and not love" or whatever the fuck the Drama-King decided made sense. -steps hard on Edward, he squeaks mournfully-

"Emmett and Jazz were about ready to hunt him down for not giving her a way to contact the family, Esme was devastated that Bella thought we'd just abandoned her, Rose was...well, rose, and Carlisle and I were dissapointed, (mine was more on the murder side tho.)

Bella: "We really didn't think it could get much worse, but Edward's creative."

Alice: "Rose calls him to tell him Vicky killed Bella, because EMMETT NEVER FUCKING CALLED HER. Edward flies into a fucking rage tantrum and ofc, goes to italy. When I told her what was happening, Bella was 𝘱𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥, like, walls shaking, lightbulbs popping pissed, and tbh I kinda wanted to see her kick his twink ass."

Bella: "...The emotions were wild. Rage, betrayal, relief, fear, it was such a jumble. When we got there, saved him, and got passed the volturi, we stayed overnight- well, over𝘥𝘢𝘺 in one of the dorm room things. I was still in my funeral dress and nylons and had lost my shoes, so they let me shower and sleep. First however, I laid into Ed. I wasn't going to carry the weight of "if I accidentally die, I'm gonna be the fuckin reason Edward is taken from his family too." Especially not as a Human. I informed him he was going to come home, apologize, take his lumps, and cope. He was a grown ass man and he needed to act like one and clean up the mess he made."

Edward, from the floor, muffled: "Safe to say, I learned my lesson. My self flagellation and pity-party was immature at best, destructive at worst. I apologized to Bella and my family, and did not yet ask for forgiveness, just for the opportunity to prove that I 𝘩𝘢𝘥 learned something from all of this."

Bella: "...We didn't get back together at first. I couldn't trust him, and he obviously did not trust me or my feelings. But I still loved him. When he was there for me and recognized/supported my autonomy, over a little bit of time I was able to trust him again. I think we both grew a LOT during the experience, and while it sucked the whole time, it was also a catalyst for better things to come. Jake was upset, at first, but we had a long and hard talk. Honestly about what I was able to give to a friendship and if it would be enough for him. He eventually decided, that it was. We still bro's. He even made friends with Edward."

Jake: -Grins and steps on Edwards head. Edward growls and rolls over to drag him to the ground. The boys play-wrestle in the background, though it looks less playful than others. Growling, gnashing, and the word 'fuck' is heard often from the fray.-

Alice: "Idiots."

Bella: "The Cullens and the wolves actually bonded as Esme and Sam strategized about the newborn war. We're not "natural enemies" after all, just smelly to alert the other we're in the area. So Jake and the pack and I are still close as ever. "

"Sorry if this was long winded, but it deserved an explanation! I'm gonna go break the boys up now, thanks for your question!"