#spn case fic

[deanwinchesterwebsite]

It's the summer of '91. Enter Sandman is on the radio, Jeffery Dahmer was just arrested, and 12 year old Dean and 8 year old Sam are spending a few days in Blue Moon, Montana. Only a few days, right? Dean makes a friend, finds a case, and waits for his dad to come back. He also swims in the river, watches Thelma and Louise in theaters, gives himself a stick and poke, and wishes his dad wouldn't come back. Sam, on the other hand, is reading as much as he can, stealing Dean's new best friend, and noticing the cracks in the story Dean tells him about their life.

Chapter 1 now on AO3

Hi guys!! I decided to start posting my August 1991 fic as we end August 2024 :-) It's almost 100% Dean POV, with some John for storytelling. I'll be trying to post weekly, but we'll see if my buffer is enough. Please join me~

[spnexploration]

Escort

Synopsis: Dean needs an escort to help him with his cover on a case (more of a case fic with flirting, no smut)

Pairing: I see it as Dean Winchester x reader but could be read as Dean Winchester x OC (no physical descriptions are given and she goes by what is clearly a fake name the whole time)

Warnings: Canon-typical violence

Words: 3k

This fulfils the Escort square of my 2023 SPN AU Bingo @spnaubingo

A/N: It's nice to write a really competent, confident female character!

Supernatural writing masterlist

“Dean,” Sam implored, “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Sammy, I swear to God, you keep whining about the plans and I’m gonna stop telling you the plans.”

“She’s a distraction at best, and a liability at worst!”

Dean rounded on him, “Is your complaint because she sells her services?”

“What? No.”

“Really? Because you’ve sure made a lot of jokes over the years about women in her line of business.”

“Dean, stop it. I’m worried about her getting hurt, or getting you hurt.”

“It will be fine. For all she knows, I just needed a girl to make me look good to the other suits. She won’t even know I’m casing the joint while we mingle. Nothing will happen, you and I will go back later without the girl. Girl will just earn some easy cash looking pretty.”

Sam sighed. Dean took that as a win. He gave his brother one last look before grabbing his keys off the motel room table. “I’ll go find a girl.”

---

Dean rolled down the window as he pulled up to a girl standing on the street corner. He was already in a tux. “Hey sweetheart,” he said as he rolled down the window. “You wanna have a Pretty Woman moment tonight?”

She looked like she was struggling to control the urge to roll her eyes. He liked her already.

“Hey handsome,” she said, leaning through the open car window. “What did you have in mind?”

“I need an escort for a big fancy party my work is throwing.”

“And you didn’t want to call a real escort service?”

“The others probably know all of them.” She laughed. “So I thought I’d branch out.” In reality, he didn’t want the arrangement written down anywhere.

“And let me guess, you want some services that aren’t available on their menu, too?”

“Nah, strictly escort tonight. Possibly the easiest money you’ll make, except for the need to smile your way through painful small talk about the best way to fold napkins.”

“And what would you have me wear?” she asked in a sultry voice.

“I got ya a dress. It’s in the back, we’ll go to the service station and you can get changed in the bathroom.”

“How long’s the party?”

“Few hours.”

“I charge $120/hr.”

“Fine.”

She opened the car door and slid inside. “Nice car,” she remarked as she ran her hands over the seat.

“My Baby’s the best,” Dean replied with a smirk, before speeding off.

---

Dean pulled up to the line of cars waiting to go into the party. He turned to the woman beside him, now resplendent in a beautiful dress he’d gotten at the op shop earlier that afternoon.

“Uh, I uh, I forgot to ask. What should I call you?” he said, suddenly awkward.

She laughed. “You can call me… Hazel.”

“Alright, Hazel it is. Where’d we meet?”

“The street corner.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “I had a flat and you helped me with it.”

“Ok. Recently?” He enjoyed letting her lead.

“Just the other day.”

“Sounds good.”

“So, what do I call you, handsome?”

“Drake,” Dean said, his hand on the car door handle as a valet came up to greet them. He headed around the car and opened her door, holding his hand out to help her out. He reached his arm around her waist and held her to him. “I’m new at the company,” he whispered, “So not many people know me.”

She shot him a quick, concerned glance before schooling her features back into a smile. Dean led her up the steps and into the party, flashing two tickets on his way past.

---

The party was going well. No one seemed to mind that they’d never seen him before in their lives, and Hazel fit in better than he could have imagined. He hadn’t expected that the girl he’d gotten off a street corner would be able to pull off the escort idea, but he’d been hoping she would take the attention away from him. That wasn’t happening now that she was actually good at it, but instead they seemed to be blending in. He’d take it.

He put his hand on the small of her back and leaned down to her ear, “I gotta go to the bathroom, I’ll be back.” She smiled at him and he walked off. He glanced around the room, but he couldn’t see the artefact he was looking for.

He headed into another room, still surreptitiously checking out the walls and display cases. He headed for an empty corridor and pulled his phone out, quickly dialling Sam. “Yo, you got any idea where this thing might be? It’s not in the main hall.”

“Dean, you are the one who said that was exactly where it would be and we didn’t need any further investigation!”

“Yeah, well, I might be wrong. Zero amulets.”

“I dunno, keep scoping out the place. What’d you do with the girl?”

“Told her I was going to the bathroom, so I can’t take too long.”

“Yet another reason it was a bad idea to take her.”

“Shut it, bitch.” Dean hung up the phone, Sam was no use.

He quickly scoped out the room closest to him before deciding he needed to head back to his date.

---

She smiled as he approached. “You took a while,” she said.

“Couldn’t find it, and then there was a line of women. They take forever.”

“You try peeing in one of these dresses.”

“Nah, I’m good,” he said with a grin. She really was perfect, he’d like to have taken her out for real some time.

He glanced around, seeing the drinks table. “You want another-” he started to ask, before fading out. He saw it, the amulet. It was around the neck of the bloody hostess of the party. Not. Good.

“Yes?” Hazel asked, drawing his attention back to her.

“I- uh- sorry.”

“You see something you like?” she said with a smirk, following his line of sight to the beautiful woman with the amulet.

“Oh, no, just, you know, lost my train of thought.”

“Uh huh,” she replied, deadpan.

He looked back at her properly, “Tonight’s all about you, sweetheart.” He flashed her a smile, that usually worked.

“Let’s go talk to her, if you’re so enamoured,” she said, starting to walk towards the lady.

“No! No, wait!” he said, reaching for her hand to prevent her getting near the woman. He had a sneaking suspicion that being near the amulet would’ve been very bad for the hostess, given the descriptions he’d read about its powers. It hadn’t been entirely clear, but he had a feeling she might be being possessed by a powerful being. He didn’t want Hazel anywhere near her.

Hazel rolled her eyes and tugged her hand of his grip, heading towards the woman. “No, Hazel!” Dean said, which brought the attention of the hostess on him.

“HUNTERS!” she yelled, suddenly holding a fireball in her hand. Fuck, a witch. Hazel had paused in shock, so Dean grabbed her waist and pulled her behind him. Others were screaming and running. The witch threw the fireball, Dean dived out of the way and pulled Hazel along with him. He raced to hide behind the bar as she threw another one. The room was rapidly emptying of party-goers, running for their lives.

He reached into his pants and pulled out his gun. “Stay down,” he hissed at Hazel, who had just peeked over the bar. To his dismay, he saw her reach up under her dress and similarly pull out a gun. He groaned.

“NYPD, we can discuss your activities later,” she whispered to him.

“Of all the women on all the street corners, I got the secret cop.” She started looking like she was going to peek over the bar again and he pulled sharply on her arm to keep her down. “If those aren’t witch-killing bullets, you’ve got no chance.”

“Of all the thieves on all the street corners, I had to get the deranged one who thinks witches are real.”

“You see that fireball she threw at us? That ain’t normal, sweetheart.”

Speaking of fireballs, one took that moment to crash into the glass mirror above them, raining small pieces of glass all over them. Dean sheltered Hazel’s body with his own, then pulled out his phone.

“She’s a freaking witch, Sam!” he hissed into the phone after Sam had picked up. “We’re under attack.”

“Who is?”

“The woman who owns the amulet, she’s wearing it!”

There was a loud crack as the bar they were hiding behind took a frontal hit. It wasn’t going to last much longer.

“I’m on my way,” Sam said in the phone.

“That might be too late,” Dean replied, looking for an exit strategy. He couldn’t see one.

“There!” Hazel hissed, pointing at a door in the panelling of the back wall of the bar area. She crawled over to it, wrenching it open. “It’s a dumbwaiter.”

“Get in it,” Dean replied, “I’ll send you down.”

“No, we can both get in it. You’re not going to survive by yourself here.” To emphasise her point, more of the mirror exploded above her head. He was pretty sure the witch was just playing with them now.

He stood up, trying to get a good shot at the witch. She was surrounded by henchmen and impossible to fire at, but she threw another fireball at him.

“Ok,” he said, crossing quickly to her.

“You get in first,” Hazel ordered.

“No.”

“We’ll only fit if I’m on top of you, get in.”

He saw the determination on her face and surrendered. He awkwardly climbed in to the cramped space, then held out his hands to take her. She squished herself in on top of him, hitting a button on the side before closing the door. The cart began to drop.

Dean held his gun up, pointed at the door, as Hazel unlatched it. They were in the wine cellar, with no one around. The staff had probably run off at the sound of the gun fight upstairs. It was even harder to get out then it had been to get in, but they managed it.

Dean took a look around, looking for a door that might lead to the outside. “There,” Hazel whispered, pointing at a door to the left of them. He nodded and followed her, pulling his phone back out of his pocket.

“Sam?”

“Thank God,” Sam replied. He could hear the sound of a car, Sam must’ve jacked one. “What’s going on?”

“We’re in the cellar.”

“Ok, you’re going to need to get out and meet me so we can go back in and gank the witch.”

“I don’t think that’s going to work, Sam. They’re going to be looking for us.”

“What’s your plan?”

“I go back in, gank the witch. Sam, you get Hazel out.”

“Uh huh,” Hazel said, spinning back to him, “And how exactly are you going to do that alone?”

“Sweetheart, this ain’t my first rodeo.”

“As I might have mentioned earlier, mine either.”

“Can someone explain what is going on?” Sam yelled from the phone.

“Hazel’s a cop,” Dean replied, moving very close to her. “But no witch-killing bullets and this ain’t your normal perp, so you’re not coming with me.”

“You try to stop me going in there and it’s a crime,” she glared at him. “Obstruction of justice.”

“The justice you were looking for tonight was men who want to pick up sex workers, not witches who want to kill.”

“I’m multi-tasking.”

“The hell you are.”

“OI!” Sam yelled again. “Can you two stop squaring off for one minute to come up with a plan so you don’t both die?”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Right,” Sam continued. “How many witch-killing bullets you got left, Dean?”

“4.”

“Give me 2,” Hazel replied.

“That will halve our chances, sweetheart.”

“You keep being that arrogant and I’ll cuff you to the dumbwaiter.”

“Jesus Christ, can you both stop it?!” Sam complained.

“Ok. I give you two bullets, and then what?”

“I go in as bait,” Hazel responded, “and you hide. If the moment presents itself, you shoot.”

“You are not going in there as bait. I did not drag an innocent into this to get killed. I’ll be bait, you hide.”

She glared at him, but eventually nodded.

“And you’re taking 3 of the bullets.”

“That’s suicide.”

“It increases our chances of you ganking the witch.”

“I’m not a bad shot.”

“Me either.”

“Ok, I’m nearly there,” Sam said from the phone, seemingly forgotten in the standoff between Dean and Hazel. “I’ll try and get in and bring extra munition. I’m tall and I have long hair, please don’t shoot me.”

“Alright, see you soon Sammy.” Dean hung up the phone. He opened his gun and started to take out bullets, handing them to her.

“So,” Hazel said with a smirk, “Dean, is it? That’s what the guy on the phone called you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure Hazel isn’t your real name either. I’ll give you 5 minutes to get in a good position before I start the distraction.”

She nodded and started to jog away to the right. He couldn’t believe he was doing this.

---

Dean took a deep breath. He’d pulled out his other gun, filled with silver bullets that were going to be useless against a witch. But they might be good on henchmen, any bullet’s a good bullet if you’re human. And they’d make a distraction.

He put the normal gun in his left hand, saving his one shot with the witch-killing bullet for his dominant hand. He didn’t think he’d get a good shot, but he’d make it count if he did.

He estimated it had been about 5 minutes since Hazel had gone. Show time.

He crept up the stairs at the opposite end to where she’d gone. He could see henchmen scouring the other rooms, probably looking for him and Hazel. He took a moment to steel himself, then headed around the corner, back into the main room.

He started firing with his left-hand gun as soon as he entered the room, taking down random henchmen. Fairly quickly he was having to dive to the side, another fireball headed his way. He didn’t know where Hazel was, which he realised was a bit of a flaw in his plan. He didn’t know where to lead the witch.

Not that he was really in control of the situation. He was barely surviving as it was. He fired over his shoulder and ran for cover.

He was diving for new cover when he spotted Sam out the corner of his eye. He diverted the other direction, hoping he was still creating enough of a diversion.

Suddenly, the room exploded behind him. He span around, ducking his head under his arms to shield himself from debris.

“Witch is dead,” he head Sam yell, “Let’s go.”

“Gotta find the girl,” Dean yelled back, searching around. He could see Sam doing the same thing on the other side of the room, intermingled with the two of them firing at the few henchmen who hadn’t fled or died already. The explosion had been dramatic, Dean had no idea how Sam had caused it.

Dean finally found Hazel, trying to extricate herself from under some debris. He lifted the remnants of a table off her, holding his hand out to her to pull her up. She limped out so he wrapped his arm around her waist, helping her move faster. They quickly made it to Sam and got out of the building.

---

“I don’t know what the hell I just witnessed tonight but I have no idea how I’m going to explain this to my supervisors,” Hazel said when they were back at the Impala.

“If I were you, I’d leave out the witch throwing fireballs. Doesn’t go down well,” Dean replied.

“I suppose you want me to leave out that the serial killers Sam and Dean Winchester were here too.”

Dean shot her a glare. “We’re not serial killers, we hunt the supernatural.”

“And sometimes the supernatural like to impersonate us and give us a bad name,” Sam added. “We didn’t shoot those people in that footage from the bank vault, monsters with our faces did.”

“Any other day and I wouldn’t have believed you, but tonight I’m a little more inclined. One question though – you always pick up random women to bring into harm's way?”

“Uh, not normally, no,” Dean said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “I genuinely thought we were just going to be looking for the amulet tonight, and I just wanted someone to try and take some of the attention off me. Sorry.”

She laughed, “Wow, you don’t seem like a man who apologises easily.”

Sam, behind Dean, was laughing and shaking his head.

“So, what are you going to do?” Dean asked her.

“I have to call this in.”

Dean nodded, grimacing slightly.

“But that doesn’t mean I have to mention you,” she continued.

Dean smiled. Sam said, “Thank you.”

“When did you know?” Dean asked. “Who we were, I mean.”

“You looked a little familiar to me when I got in the car, but I thought you’d just been in the photo list of known sex worker users I’d looked at. Wasn’t until I learnt your names were Sam and Dean and you were handing me special bullets that I remembered.”

Dean nodded.

“Alright, you two better hit the road before anyone gets here. They probably already noticed the explosion.”

“Do I get to know your real name?” Dean said with one of his charming smiles. She gave a smirk and pulled a folded business card from out of a hidden compartment in her gun. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

She reached over and kissed his cheek, “Thanks for saving my life.”

“Anytime,” Dean replied, opening the driver’s door and jumping in. Sam jumped in the other side and they sped off, into the night.

“So how’d you make an explosion? Or did she just explode when you shot her?” Dean asked Sam.

“Witch-killing grenade, been working on it as a prototype. Same idea as the bullets.”

“Niiiiiiice.”

Dean twirled the business card in his fingers. Would've liked to get to know that girl some more.

.

.

.

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[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

Darling Readers!

I am working on several fics. I’m curious to see which ones you’d rather I work one or focus on.

Details:

Sam is angry at Dean for his lack of care for the Bunker’s library and in the midst of an argument overeacts by reading a random spell that shrinks them all and shenanigans ensue. This is a destiel story. Rowena is involved too.

An a/b/o poly Angel mates case fic. TFW is investigating the decrease of human souls entering Heaven and Hell. Destiel story.

Cas gets cursed by a witch that causes his grave to be constantly active and Dean blue screens. Gif story. Very destiel.

Post-apocalyptic shifter a/b/o poly world AU. Winchester camp is one of the oldest and essentially a good commune where they save abused folks and help them come back into society. They are current,y searching for a way to end the demon invasion that has recurred even though angels and demons are forbidden to come to earth, and they’re the only ones who are supposed to know this. Destiel story.

Just wondering where you’d think would be good to focus on.

Thanks!

[pendragony]

Chapters: 1/13 Fandom: Supernatural (TV 2005) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer (Supernatural) Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Verse, Omega Dean Winchester/Alpha Sam Winchester, Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha Sam Winchester, Case Fic, Fake/Pretend Relationship, slight dubcon, Knotting, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Caring Sam Winchester, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Selectively Mute Dean Winchester, Alternate Universe, AU but with potential spoilers up to season 6, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Attempted Sexual Assault, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, POV Dean Winchester, Unreliable Narrator, Dom/sub Undertones, no beta we die like men, Not to be scraped by ChatGPT Summary:

Dean has always set aside his needs, repressing his instincts for the sake of Sam. Sometimes he thinks he doesn’t even know how to be an Omega any more. When the brothers pose as a couple to investigate a spate of drowned Alphas, Dean starts to get back in touch with his Omega self. But when the heat is on, will Dean still be able to protect Sam?

“It doesn’t have to be a big deal, Dean.”

It isn’t big; just a small scrap of black fabric, sitting in Sam’s gigantor hand as he proffers it to his brother across the console of the Impala. But something in Dean’s stomach flips and twists as he gingerly reaches out and picks it up. Dad never made him wear a collar, for all his traditional views and Alpha temper, and the way he’d shepherded Dean into Mary’s role as though it were the most natural thing in the world. A collar means he’s no longer just Dean; it means he belongs to someone.

“Fine,” Dean says. It isn’t fine. “But only when we’re around company.”

“Yeah, of course.” Sam nods encouragingly and leans close to help put it on. Dean bats him away and fastens the collar around his own damned neck, ignoring the flicker that crosses Sam’s face. It’s nothing worse than putting on a priest’s collar, or his Fed suit, he tells himself. Just a little bit of costume to act the part of a good little Omega while they’re in a state that requires it. Sam was right - it’s no big deal. So, if he feels a twinge of something like guilt at not letting Sam be the one to collar him, then that’s no big deal either.

On paper, Sam has been his Alpha since John died, but not like that – not his mate. Sam was going to mate Jess. Since she died, any interest Sam has shown in finding someone else seems to die as soon as it begins. And as for Dean… For as long as he can remember, Dean has been here to take care of Sam, suppressing his instincts except for when they could be usefully drawn on in service of his brother, suppressing his heats with medication so they wouldn’t get in the way. Between Dad and Sam, he’s never truly had a life of his own, but he hasn’t lived like an Omega either. Doesn’t think he’d really know how to be one any more, not like other Omegas. But to be there for Sam, to keep him from going off the rails, to take care of him and to drive through life together - that’s enough, Dean tells himself. It’s fine.

They’re in the ass-end of Morgan County, Georgia, following a case Sam found. Dean is uneasy this far south; prickly in the summer heat, braced for knotheaded attitudes, knowing he may not be taken seriously even if he collars up. But three men have drowned in Lake Oconee this year, all happily-mated Alphas, all drowned on the night of a new moon. David Owen, Philip Rooney, Ryan Wilson. Dean had grumbled that the link was tenuous, but his gut knows it’s their kind of job.

“So they were all staying at this hotel place?” Dean says, turning away and grabbing the papers from the backseat, not looking to see if Sam’s eyes linger traitorously on the collar. White Oak Lodge: bonding retreats and Alpha/Omega residential wellbeing courses. Dean squints up at the sprawling Greek revival building. How does Sam find these things? Why would pretending to be a couple even be one of his options, let alone first on the list? It doesn’t mean anything, Dean tells himself. Why would it mean anything?

“Retreat house, yeah. The first two were guests, the last one worked here as a chef.”

Something stirs uneasily in Dean’s stomach - an image of Sam, floating in the lake water, flickering unwanted through his mind. He blinks it away, takes a breath. “We don’t need to stay here,” he says, trying for gruff, landing too close to plaintive for his liking. “We can find a motel and just do the journalist thing. Or maintenance men.”

“I told you, Dean, the nearest motel is miles up the road. We need to see how this place operates, question residents and staff, check out the building. And people are disappearing from the retreat centre, at night, at the new moon. We need to stay here for a few days. It makes sense.”

Dean glares. Sam sighs. “We can head back up if it really bothers you. We’ll do stakeouts by the lake in the car. I’ll get some bug spray for the mosquitoes.”

The thought of sitting in the car in this heat, getting bitten all over, is enough for Dean. Air-conditioning and window screens suddenly make a very inviting prospect. “You think I’m gonna sit out here and get bit to shreds?” he says, shoving the door open. “No chance. But don’t even think about pulling any lovey-dovey bullshit. This is strictly business.”

Read more on AO3.

[sandinthepipes]

I know Tumblr will not let me down.

Give me your favourite destiel fic

[heliotrope155]

So many missed opportunities to have Dean and Sam on a case where they don't speak the language the family being haunted does, so they enlist Cas who (in my opinion and I think canonically??) speaks all the possible languages and translates.

[spnexploration]

I loved how she described her dream and Dean giving Cas a hard time for their appearance in her bedroom! Great start, can't wait to read more!!

If you are doing a tag list, may I please be added?

Introduction

Introduction to the Highway to Hell series.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader Warnings: None! Slow start/burn. This is a series, so this is just the intro! Word Count: 784 (it's short, but it's an intro!)

With a shaky breath, she jolted into a sitting position, a cold sweat overtook her body. With labored breaths, she clutched her chest and tugged at the damp cotton t-shirt stuck to her skin.

Her hand went to her forehead as she tried to slow her breathing and comprehend the bizarre dream she had just had.

In the glow of the moonlight, she opened the drawer, looking for a pen and a notepad. Without a second thought, her hand began writing before her mind could even process the words.

xx

A tall, built man named Sam wandered into the dark field, a man just a bit shorter than him named Dean just behind. They were brothers–Dean older by a few years.

In the field, there were approximately thirty people, all looking towards the sky. Another man, being used as a temporary vessel for the dark angel, Lucifer, dug dirt to cover many bodies–mainly women and children, along with anyone else unable to embody his soldiers of demons.

Dean aimed the colt at Lucifer’s head and a shot rang out in the dark, midnight sky. It was Dean’s mission to end Lucifer’s life and end the battle between the angels and demons. 

Unbeknown to the brothers, the colt did not work as planned. Lucifer coughed and groaned–only momentarily pained from the bullet wound. He informed the brothers that the colt was useless.

The boys stumbled backwards towards the brush of the woods, defeated.

An angel in a tan trench coat appeared, his vessel being a man in his thirties named Jimmy. The angel, however, was called Castiel. He silently and swiftly removed the boys from the woods just as Lucifer completed the sacrifice and the Horseman of Death was released into the world. The Apocalypse was to continue.

xx

The pen fell from her shaky fingers. She took a breath as she glanced over the words that had spilled onto the page; her brain trying to comprehend what they meant.

“Hello,” a gruff voice sounded from the corner of her bedroom; somehow this dark shadowed man knew her name.

In the black of the night, she could make out three figures standing there.

She yelped as she scrambled to switch on the lamp on her nightstand. In the light, she could make out the three figures from her dream–Castiel, Dean and Sam.

The sheets piled up as she hurried out of her bed and grabbed the baseball bat she kept near her dresser for protection. She bent her elbows and held the bat up, ready to swing.

“Stay away from me!” The words fell from her lips in a scream as she stood before them, her oversized sleep shirt and hair still slightly damp from the stress of the dream.

“Jesus, Cas,” the man named Dean groaned. “Did you have to pop us in this poor girl’s bedroom in the middle of the night?”

“There’s no time, Dean,” Castiel murmured as he kept his gaze on her.

“This isn’t real,” she breathed as her heart raced against her sternum. “You’re not real. You’re from my dream. Hell, I must still be dreaming.” She kept the baseball bat raised, ready to swing at any given moment.

The man she recognized as Sam raised his hands in front of him in a surrendering motion. “I know this seems crazy to you,” he said, his eyes wide open as if it might help her see that they didn’t mean any harm. “My name is Sam and this is my brother, Dean and our friend, Cas. You…you have a way of seeing things that happen to us.”

“You’re a prophet of the Lord,” Castiel interjected.

Her eyes narrowed at the so-called angel. “I’m a what of who?”

“Dammit, Cas!” Dean yelled as he rolled his eyes. “Can you just…stop talking?”

Castiel ignored Dean and continued. “You just had your first vision. You saw Sam and Dean try to kill Lucifer but they failed and the Apocalypse is coming.”

Her body began to shake. “Get out of my house if you’re real. Get out!” Tears of frustration burned her eyes.

“We cannot,” Castiel spoke again. “Your life has been prepared by God. You have a path you must follow or else the world will indeed come to an end.”

The words made her entire body shake as if she were a leaf on a tree in the middle of a thunderstorm. She couldn’t breathe; her chest tightened and her hearing muffled. Her eyes blurred over. She vaguely heard Dean ask if she was alright before her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she fell against a glass table top by her bedroom door. All went black.

--------

Read Part One here!

[ananke-xiii]

I literally don't care about Dean teaching Jack how to drive&fish but I absolutely need a fic with Sam, Rowena and Cas going to meet the shaman Sergei who was recommended by none other than Ketch. Cas huffs and puffs about it for the whole drive, Rowena complains about Sam driving too slow and Sam thinks about driving them all into a cliff, the thought of dying Jack is the only thing keeping them all alive. What's even worse? The ride back home. With Sergei. Level of "I'd rather be in the pit of hell than in this car with you all" over nine thousand. It's, again, the thought of a dying Jack that keeps them all safe from eternal damnation because these people would otherwise Commit Crimes&Sacrileges.

[th30ra3k3n]

i can't count the times

i almost said what's on my mind

but i didn't

and just the other day

i wrote down all the things i'd say

but i couldn't, i just couldn't

baby, i know that you've been wonderin'

mm, so here goes nothin'

in case you didn't know

baby, i'm crazy 'bout you

and i would be lyin' if i said

that i could live this life without you

even though

i don't tell you all the time

you had my heart a long, long time ago

in case you didn't know

for @disasterpenguin 🖤

[artsybi]

do i think gerry keay would actually get along with sam and dean winchester? not necessarily. do i think sam and dean would get along with gerry? not necessarily. do i think they would end up working together because they've got the exact same goal, and extra help is extra help (especially when that extra help has information you can't find/access to an arsenal that's just flat out impressive)? yes. i absolutely do.

also i feel like putting gerry and cas in the same room would have very interesting results. like chances are he'd be able to see enough of cas's true form to go "oh What the fuck" the first time he pops up and that's just an entertaining mental image to me

[masoena]

Dragon Shifter Dean - The Origin Story

A prequel to Destined Across Worlds

This fic is a precursor to the recently posted Destined Across Worlds fic and gives the full story of how dragon shifter Dean became what he is in that AU. A case-fic featuring Soulless Sam and Dean Winchester working a hunt in Utah.

This fic is also published as part of the WIP - Finish your Sh**! bang hosted by @wipbigbang whose very active mods and Discord server kept me going through the writing of this.

Pairing: Sam Winchester & Dean Winchester

Rating: Explicit (for violence)

Size: 10,879 words

Summary:

Set in season 6 where Sam is soulless this fic follows a hunt that takes the brothers to Utah where people have been abducted seemingly into thin air. They swiftly nail down the perpetrator and the kind of monster behind it all but neutralizing the threat is a different matter all together. In true Winchester fashion they forge a plan, with Dean as bait in this particular scenario and things go terribly wrong but there is a light at the end of the tunnel regardless. Soulless Sam struggles with Dean post hunt and in his warped soulless mind, his brother morphs into the thing they hunt and so begins a hunt for Dean.

Link to fic: AO3 || Link to art: AO3

This fic forms part of a trilogy:

Dragon Shifter Dean - The Origin Story

Destined Across Worlds - Fic on AO3 | Masterpost on Tumblr

Darkness Across Worlds (posting on October 5, 2024)

[stabbyfoxandrew]

Arsonist neil please🙏

WIP Wednesday (7/24) | Arsonist Neil / Firefighter Andrew AU (Part 203)

Watching TV together was Andrew’s idea. He suggested it a week or so ago and it took them a couple days to pick a show. Finally, Andrew picked for them. You see, he’d never seen Supernatural before, despite Nicky thirsting after the main character throughout college. But it’s sort of interesting— maybe Andrew understands Nicky’s obsession a little now— and they lucked out. It started a new cycle of re-runs four days ago. So every day, at seven o’clock, they watch TV together.

They’re only a few episodes in and it keeps getting more ridiculous. But 10 thinks it’s hilarious how the main characters use fake names and IDs to do their silly investigating. The special effects are… Well, they’re certainly special. And 10 can guess the jumpscares just before they happen, which is mildly annoying considering Andrew’s jolted a few times himself. 

“See,” Andrew when a demon-possessed man starts to rip the door off a plane. “This is why I don’t fly.”

10 laughs. “I’ve flown plenty. Never seen any black-eyed people.”

“You’re lucky apparently,” Andrew says, filled with unease as the plane starts to crash. Of all the things about this stupid show, Andrew’s afraid of plane crashes. Not the monsters, not the demons. Things that can happen in real life. He sighs in relief when the scene changes.

[noxemma]

Chapter two for my Hot Summer Art fic is up!

I might actually get to posting all of these before the end of the month if I can keep up this pace 😂

Tags, Rating, Word Count, AO3 link, etc. at the bottom

Beside Your Side

Fic Summary: Dean convinces Sam to look into a potential case where people are going missing from a New Jersey beach town. Of course, they have to bring Cas and Eileen along, just in case it's not a monster. Dean is excited to get the case over quickly and enjoy a well-earned vacation with the people he loves the most. Nothing ever seems to go the way Dean plans it though, and this case is no exception.

Chapter 2: Nothing Wrong with Floral

Dean

Dean starts to relax and enjoy himself as Baby cruises through the downtown area. The windows are down, his rock mix is blasting, and Cas in his old AC/DC shirt leaning toward the open window with the sun on his face looking gorgeous.

I guess I should have expected he wouldn’t have much in the way of casual clothes. It’s not like we’ve ever taken a vacation before, and his standard suit and trench coat usually suffice for any government position we impersonate.

Dean glances over at Cas again and tries to ignore the way his heart feels like it’s been replaced with warm goo. Cas is resplendent in the early evening glow, the light emphasizing his high cheekbones and contrasting against the scruff that’s grown over the last few days. Sunbeams and wind play through his hair and Dean can see the glint of grey that’s started to sprout ever since he’s become nearly human.

God, it only makes him more attractive though, Dean thinks, running a hand through his own hair self-consciously. Don’t know if I quite pull it off the way that he does.

“Dean?”

Dean suddenly finds blue eyes staring back at him quizzically. One brow arches and Dean gulps at the way his stomach tries to take up residence in his throat.

“Wha-what?”

“I believe a green light indicates that it is your turn to go, correct?” Cas snarks and Dean is so tempted to lean in and kiss the smile off his face.

Thankfully a car horn saves him from himself, prompting him to hit the gas and speed through the intersection. Cas goes back to enjoying the sun and Dean resolutely focuses on finding a parking space near the address Sam gave him. He ends up getting lucky with a spot in the shade and they don’t even have to walk that far to the pretty townhouse belonging to Bradley's sister. Cas stops Dean just before he knocks on the door.

“Dean, are you sure I shouldn’t just wait in the car? I was pretty useless at this the last time I tried to help, and I can’t imagine I’ve gotten much better. I don't have 'people skills' like you and Sam." Cas actually uses air quotes, but the insecurity in his voice sucks all the humor out of the idiosyncrasy.  

“You weren’t useless, you were just … awkward. You were trying to be too much like me and Sam; do it exactly how we do it. Just be yourself and I’m sure you’ll be alright.” Dean winks at him, immediately regrets the action when Cas’ brows pinch together, and spins around to knock on the door before he can stick his foot further into his mouth.

The door swings inward to reveal an attractive woman in her mid-twenties.

“Um, can I help you?” The woman crosses her arms and stares defiantly as if she can’t think of any greater inconvenience than two strangers showing up on her doorstep. “Hello, I'm Dean and this is Castiel,” Dean introduces them, completely unfazed by her attitude and laying on the charm thick. “We’re podcasters and we were hoping to interview you for an episode on-"

“You two, podcasters? Yeah, sure and I’m a mermaid on the full moon. Get off my porch before I call the cops,” she rolls her eyes and retreats into the house.

“Wait, please,” Cas calls out before she can fully slam the door. When she opens the door a few inches, he steps in front of Dean to address her. “I apologize for him. He doesn’t think people will talk to us if we tell them the truth. You see, we’re both actually really into true crime and missing people. It all started when his father went missing, and it’s become somewhat of a hobby and an obsession since then. Helping others find their loved ones gives him a bit of the closure he never got.”

Dean’s pretty sure his jaw is on the floor, and it stays there as the woman eyes them up and down before sighing and opening the door fully.

“Ugh, fine. Come in. You get three minutes.”

“Thank you,” Cas responds graciously, leaving Dean standing dumbstruck on the porch.

“God, I’m such a sucker for sad blue eyes,” the woman says to Cas’ retreating form. She turns a calculating gaze onto Dean, eyeing him up and down before carefully saying, “Your boyfriend gets you to do whatever he wants with those things, doesn’t he?”

What? He’s not actually-,” Dean stops himself because it feels like a trap. Plus, he doesn’t want this woman to know that Cas isn’t actually dating him. Not when she’s staring at his backside appreciatively. “Uh, yeah, but don’t tell him that. I don’t think he’s figured out what a sucker I am yet.”

Like what you read? You can find the rest of the chapter here on AO3

Rating: Explicit

Chapters: 2/? (hopefully 9 😂)

Chapter Word Count: ~8,400

Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Case Fic, Established Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Beach Case, Cannon when convenient, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con (Dean and background characters), Non-Consensual Touching (Not between Dean and Cas), Hurt/Comfort, I promise it's not as dark as it sounds, Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, clueless Sam Winchester, Chick-Flick Moments, Cannon typical misunderstandings, Angst?, One day I'll learn how to tag, WIP, JackieDeeArt's Hot Summer Art 2024 (Supernatural), Hot Summer Art, Greek Mythology if you Squint, No Beta, Everyone is bad with words, Except Eileen who is the only emotionally stable person for miles, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Angel Grace Dysfunction

[magpiewithinternetaccess]

[constantcrisis19]

Loose Lips Sink Ships - Part 1

Dean Winchester x GN S/O

AN: Hey guys! I know that I disappeared for a bit, but I promise that I'm still alive and kicking! I've just been really consumed by the SoapGhost fics that I've been writing/planning for ao3 and that made it hard for me to find time to write for Tumblr in between irl things when all of my free time seemed to be dedicated to COD. But I finally decided to just sit down and work on one of my numerous WIP's which led to me cranking this bad boy out! Hope you like it!

Word Count: 2,118

You moved your hands out of your jacket pocket, revealing your well-loved wallet that you’d had for years, and pulled the card with your current alias printed onto it out of its assigned slot in a practiced motion. 

You tapped the chip against the screen of the card reader in order to pay for the obscenely greasy food that you’d ordered for yourself and Dean –who you had left fast asleep in your shared motel room– watching with a keen eye as the payment processed and then was accepted with a little innocuous green check mark, the receipt printing with a soft whir.

You startled a little as a phone suddenly began to ring, the tune echoing loudly in the store, and it took you an embarrassing amount of time to realize that it was actually your cell that was going off, your free hand –which wasn’t currently juggling both your card and wallet– darted down to the back pocket of your jeans in order to collect the device with a sheepish smile.

You swiped your thumb across the screen and answered the phone without looking at the caller ID, quickly wedging the device between your ear and shoulder in order to take the receipt that the bored looking cashier was impatiently holding out toward you with your newly freed hand.

“Hey, where the hell did you run off to?” Dean was already talking before you could even manage to get a greeting out, his voice rough in a way that it only was immediately after waking up, which told you that he most likely called after rousing from sleep and noticing that you were no longer in the motel with him.

“Just figured that I’d treat your lazy ass to some breakfast since you didn’t look like you were getting up anytime soon.” You said as you took the long strip of paper from the cashier with a small nod of thanks before stepping off to the side in order to make way for the next customer to step forward and be assisted, folding up the receipt and carelessly cramming it into your wallet before shoving it back into your jeans.

You had wanted to let Dean sleep in for once since it was technically your fault that you were both up so late last night, the two of you having been all wound up after running around all day asking anyone and everyone about the suspicious deaths that had been happening around town only to come up with fuck all, so you and Dean had decided to dispel all that pent up energy and frustration by testing Dean’s so-called ‘endless stamina’ that he constantly bragged about.

Needless to say, you had put him through the wringer and managed to come out the other side a little less worse for wear than Dean had.

You settled in with your phone now comfortably resting against the side of your head as you waited for your order to be called, and you bit your lip in an attempt to repress the love-sick smile that wanted to overtake your neutral expression when you heard the telltale shift of blankets over the line. 

You could see Dean carelessly sprawl his limbs out across the bed in your mind's eye, your fingers twitching with the urge to brush your fingers through his –no doubt– adorable bedhead, the impulse always bubbling up without fail when you saw his hair sticking up at all sorts of odd angles.

“Rough night?” You asked, your voice practically dripping with faux-concern as you idly watched the people milling about the pop fountain, and Dean let loose a distinctly unattractive snort that had a smug grin spreading across your lips, your salacious smile earning you a dirty look from a woman who had just finished filling a large cup with cola that you unfortunately just so happened to make eye contact with.

“You’d know.” Dean groused, the sound of him moving about restlessly nearly drowning out his petulant response as he heaved himself upright with a groan that had him sounding like he was an old man rather than a spry twenty-six year old, and you winced in sympathy.

As hunters, your line of work was unforgiving and you yourself were subject to the various aches and pains that came from such a physically demanding job on more than one occasion.

“You order yet?” Dean asked suddenly and you blinked rapidly, his voice abruptly pulling you from the aimless staring that you’d been unknowingly doing as you recalled how stiff and sore you were when you woke up this morning. Though, if you were being honest with yourself, that was definitely a byproduct of last night's rigorous activities rather than having to fight for your life against some bloodthirsty creature or another for once, which was admittedly a nice change of pace.

“Yup. Got you a bacon breakfast burrito, hash browns, and a slice of cherry pie.” You replied with a wide grin, a bark of laughter erupting from your chest and startling the few people standing near you when Dean let out a truly sinful moan of appreciation.

“I love you so fucking much.” Dean declared, the mattress springs creaking as he pushed to his feet and walked across the small room before clicking on a lightswitch, his voice taking on a distinct echo as he entered the borderline claustrophobic motel bathroom.

“I know.” You said smugly before suddenly remembering the woman that you had run into on your way to the restaurant, causing you to be out longer than you’d originally intended, which was the whole reason why you were back with breakfast before Dean woke up. 

“Also, while I was out, I happened to run into a friend of the ex-wife of the last victim and I may have found a lead on this case.” You stated after briefly glancing around and taking a couple of steps back in order to make sure that no one would be overhearing your conversation.

The most that you’d been able to get out of the shell-shocked woman when you and Dean had went to interrogate her the previous day was that her ex-husband had broken into the house while she was home alone and, after saying some shit that made no sense at all whatsoever, had dropped dead right there in the dining room before she could even process what had happened.

And that wasn’t even the weirdest thing that had happened, the person before that had slumped over dead in a church confessional booth after saying about three words to the priest and the one before that had just randomly collapsed to the ground in the middle of a crosswalk after angrily yelling at a reckless driver that had almost ran her over.

“Alright, hit me.” Dean said, sounding much more awake now but, before you could say a word, one of the employees called out your order number over the general chatter of the restaurant. You snapped to attention, muttering a quick warning to Dean that the food was done and you were gonna go grab it, before moving forward and maneuvering your way through the small crowd that had accumulated between you and the front desk.

You took the grease-stained brown paper bag with a grateful smile and a polite nod before turning on your heel in order to make your way over to the exit. You shamelessly used your foot to bully the door open –since your hands were full– before stepping outside and squinting when the sun made your eyes ache, unused to the intense brightness after having spent so much time under the fluorescent lights that they had installed indoors.

“As I was saying, apparently there’s an old legend–” You began as you trotted over to the nearby sidewalk in order to begin the long walk back to the motel, only to be almost immediately interrupted by Dean.

“There always is.” Dean muttered to himself through a muffled yawn, but you expertly ignored him –a talent that had been born from being around the older Winchester for several years– and continued on as if he had never even uttered a word.

“–that a witch used to terrorize the area way back when this place used to be just a tiny trading town and, considering that there is definitely some kind of curse involved here, I figured that a witch –if not the very same witch from the story– is most likely our culprit rather than a cursed object, like we initially suspected.” You continued explaining your findings, lifting a hand to wave at the driver of a pick up that had slowed to a stop and motioned to the street in front of them, allowing you to quickly jog across the crosswalk.

“Fucking witches man.” Dean growled, the deep sound sending the wrong kind of signals to your brain and making your core heat up in anticipation as images of last night came to the forefront of your mind, an overwhelming sense of smug satisfaction blooming in your chest when you recalled the plethora of possessive marks that you’d shamelessly left all over his body.

The deafening blare of a car horn unceremoniously yanked you from your internal musings and you gave Dean a noncommital hum as your gaze scanned over the street in an effort to find the origin of the noise, pausing your search and freezing mid step when you noticed a man and a woman standing stock still on the other side of the busy road, both of them just staring at you as passersby gave them a wide berth.

“Hello? You still there?” You heard Dean’s voice as he called out over the phone, but your attention was firmly locked onto the pair on the opposite sidewalk who were very openly watching you with an intensity that made your gut churn, your eyes widening when you made the mistake of making eye contact with the woman and she shot you a mean grin.

“Uh, yeah. It’s just– There’s a man and a woman staring at me… and I have a feeling that they’re not coming over here for a friendly chat.” You relayed warily as the two finally moved, the woman taking the lead as they stepped off the curb and began making their way across the road toward you. 

And, no sooner than the words had left your mouth, you heard the telltale sound of Dean grabbing his keys and jacket before the rhythmic thump of rapid footsteps and the heavy slam of a door signaled his rushed exit from the motel room, the relative silence of the room being replaced by the whistle of the wind and general bustle of the city as Dean climbed into the Impala.

“Don’t hang up and don’t move, I’m coming to you.” Dean snapped furiously –though you didn’t take his harsh tone to heart since you knew that he was just worried– and you winced when you heard the deafening squeal of tires on asphalt from Dean’s end of the line, the commotion promptly being followed by a flurry of irritated honking as he drove like a mad man.

“The not moving thing probably won’t be an option, but you can access my location from your own phone and use that to track my movements. I’ll keep the call connected if I can.” You said quickly before acting as if you dropped the call and stashing your cell into the right pocket of your jacket moments before the woman came to a halt about a foot away from you, her companion not too far behind.

“Hello. You’ll have to forgive my rudeness, it’s been awhile since I’ve come across a hunter. Especially one who is brave or stupid enough to travel with someone as infamous and recognizable as a Winchester.” The woman –who you assumed was in charge– greeted with faux-remorse, and you swallowed nervously as her red lips stretched into a wide smile that showed off too many teeth to be strictly friendly.

You scrambled for something to focus on as you began to panic at the realization that the mystery woman –who you strongly suspected was the very witch that you’d been looking for– not only knew who you were but also why you were there, your brain stupidly choosing to latch onto the fact that the pair were going to cause you to be delayed even longer, which meant that it was becoming more than likely that your food was going to be stone cold by the time you made it back to the motel.

If you managed to come out of the confrontation alive, that is.