#study; sammy-you gotta be heaven to see heaven | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dcforts · 4 years ago

Text

[ring for an angel]

11k, half au, ao3.

Dean speeds up as soon as he spots the blinking Rooms Available sign half a mile away. The tires squeal on the wet asphalt as he makes a rapid turn and enters the parking lot.

It’s not a big place. Ten rooms or less, all ground floor. The blue neon sign on top of the short building says Feathers in a friendly font and has a pair of little wings and a halo to blink with it.

Pretty tacky, if you were to ask Dean in another moment. But right now, he doesn’t give a rat’s ass how the place is called. Right now, he’s got Sam slumped in the passenger seat, wet like a fish and shaking with cold.

They had an unplanned encounter with two vetalas they were hunting a couple of towns back. In the last few weeks the vetalas had lurked on a hiking trail, casually bumping into tourists to steal something valuable from them, only to attack them once they returned on their steps to search for it. Being the middle of winter, they’d been feasting undisturbed, favoured by the small numbers of people that braved the paths and by the sun setting early.

Dean and Sam waited the early hours of the morning to cross the police tapes and track them, but the trail was long, it was dark and cold and the vetalas had the advantage of being familiar with the grounds.

They hadn’t seen them coming.

They would have still managed to overpower them if only one of them hadn’t pushed Sam into a lake and fled and Dean had been too worried getting him out of the freezing water, to worry about the other one fleeing as well.

He got him quickly to the car, but all the motels they passed by were full, and every mile Dean had driven had seemed a mile too far and every second a second too long to have Sam paling and shivering and half unconscious in the Impala.

He had stripped him of his heavy jacket and shirt, draped his own jacket and flannel over him, trying to dry him as best as he could, and cranked the heating at its max, but Baby could only do so much. Outside the windows, it looked like it was about to snow.

Dean increasingly worried about the way Sam seems to slip more and more into unconsciousness. He tried to keep him talking, slapping his chest and asking him questions but for the last ten minutes or so, Sam had his head lolling on one side and his replies had become only barely coherent mumbles.

But they are here now. Dean stops the car and shakes him awake one more time; he touches his face, tries to meet his eyes.

��Hey, Sammy, look at me,” he says and Sam seems to make an effort to focus on him, “we are here. We’re gonna get you inside now, you hear me?” he says. “You just gotta hold on for one more minute. I’m gonna check us in and you’ll be warm in no time.”

Sam’s nod is weak and his pale face is not at all reassuring, but Dean knows it will do no good to stay in the car. He needs to get him inside.

So he braves the cold in only his t-shirt for the short jog it takes to get to the lobby. It’s a little inviting square of bright light. Mostly glass doors, which is an unusual choice for a motel, and especially not in a place of the country where it gets this cold. But the glass turns out to be thicker than it looks and the room, surprisingly warm. Dean finds himself exhaling relieved, as the door closes behind him.

The place is definitely new, all furniture is shiny clean and modern. In a corner, a few tables make up the breakfast area with a brand new model of coffee machine. Everything is in white, except the light wood counter right in front of Dean, that has engraved on it a replica of the blue sign that is outside. Dean only now notices that everything is angel and heaven themed. There are little white wings on blue wallpapers all around him that make the place look like a nursery. Behind the counter, there’s an open door that gives into a dimly lit backroom. But as far as humans, no one.

“Hello?” Dean calls, frowning and craning his neck to try and spot someone moving inside.

He turns towards the parking lot again and sure enough, it started snowing. Irritated by the delay, he approaches the counter and spots a little desk bell. It’s painted light blue and it says Ring For An Angel to match the theme of the place.

Dean hits the bell a couple of times but nothing happens. “Hello?” he calls, and he hits the bell again and again, nervously tapping on the wood with his other hand. He spots an open book next to keyboard of the main computer. Someone is there then. Dean doesn’t stop hitting the damn bell.

Come on.

How long a piss break can take?

He is about to shout “Hello?” again when, finally, someone emerges from the backroom.

It’s a guy about his height, dark hair and striking blue eyes. He is wearing just a white shirt and a blue vest with a tag that reads Steve and he’s carrying a steaming mug in his left hand. He lingers on the threshold, between dark and light and stands there, just watching him.

“Yes?” he says then, in a wary tone. His voice is deep and husky, as if he just woke up, and if you were to ask Dean in another moment, it was like the bow on an already rather attractive package, but right now Dean is too irked by his attitude to pay him that kind of attention.

What does he think he could he possibly want?

Okay, maybe aggressively hitting their desk bell and coming in from the snow with his arms bare and probably dirt smeared across his face, it’s not exactly the best first impression Dean’s ever given to someone. But who cares? He just wants him to do his job.

“I need a double for tonight. If you could make it fast,” he says, hastily. He ignores the way the guy just keeps standing there, watching him – he can be weird, but honestly, he’s seen worse – and fishes out his wallet to grab a credit card. He slams it on the counter.

“Make it two nights.”

Finally, the guy moves.

“I need to see some identification,” he says, placing aside his mug and exchanging it in his hand with Dean’s card. He studies it meticulously, looking at each side and everything.

Crap.

Usually at this time of night nobody even bothers with this. Dean has no idea whose name’s on the card he just gave him and he can’t really deal with this when Sam’s in those conditions back in the car. He pulls out one of his fake IDs and hopes for the best.

But of course the guy – Steve – does the opposite of giving it a once over, like anybody else would. In fact, the asshole holds the ID next to the credit card and, upon inspection, clicks his tongue.

He looks at Dean with a raised eyebrow.

“And how would you like me to register you, as Mr. Houdini or as Mr. Plant?” he says. He doesn’t look even a little bit amused.

Dean isn’t either. He clenches his fist and his jaw. He tries to keep calm but he just doesn’t have time to waste with this guy.

“Either works.”

“Not for me.”

“Alright, Poirot,” he bites out, “it’s my uncle’s card. Do you wanna call him in the middle of the night to check?”

Steve levels him with a hard stare.

“No, but I can ask you to leave.”

Dean pales. He feels the ground giving in underneath him.

“Jesus. Look, I don’t need this right now. I got a medical emergency. The card works, just give me the room.”

He knows he sounds distressed and as he hardens his tone and raises his voice, possibly a little scary, but he is just out of options. This is it. He doesn’t know what he can possibly do if the guy actually kicks him out of there.

The guy stays impossibly calm and that just adds to Dean’s anger.

“If you refuse to leave, I can call the police.”

“Damn it! I don’t have time for this.” he says making eye contact to try and get through to him. What is he, some kind of robot? Does he even blink? “You don’t understand. My brother is sick -”

“I could recommend another establishment three miles ahead. They are less selective with their guests. I’m sure they’ll be happy to welcome you.”

Fuck. Dean hits the counter with a fist so hard that the little bell shakes and a handful of business cards slide down from their pile. Steve doesn’t even flinch. Dean exhales heavily and tries to calm down. This isn’t doing any good.

“I can’t go any farther. Believe me, I would,” he says, matching his cold stare and trying to keep the volume of his voice in check. “My brother is outside in my car and he’s freezing to death,” he says, enunciating every word. Steve impassive façade crumbles a little. He looks suspicious, frowns and titls his head a little to the side. Dean keeps going, sensing an opening. “He can’t possibly go another mile in this snow. I can’t take him anywhere else. You gotta let me take him in.”

Steve blinks at him like he’s trying to understand if he is in fact out of his mind as he seems. “What?”

“My brother,” he repeats, still firm but now pleading, “he is soaking wet and unresponsive and I need to warm him up before he dies of hypothermia. I’m not lying, I’m begging here. I need you to do me this solid, man. And it’s gotta be now. Please,” he says, almost out of breath.

Steve searches his face with an inquisitive look for a long moment in which Dean can feel his heartbeat speed up. Then Dean sees him reach under the counter and he holds his breath. He may have a shotgun or one of those buttons that calls security or something. Instead what he holds up and slides over the counter is a room key.

“3 B” he says.

Dean exhales in relief, looks at the key, then up at him. In a second he’s grabbed it and he ran out again. The cold bites his bare arms but he’s almost at the Impala and he doesn’t care.

He opens the passenger door and lets Sam up, slinging one of his arms over his shoulders to carry him more easily.

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Sammy, come on, I need you to walk now, can you do that? We’re almost there.”

But Sam barely moves. “Sammy?” he calls again, more urgent now. “You gotta help here.”

Sam tries to take a step but his legs give out under him. “I can’t do it.” he says. “It’s too cold.”

“Course you can. The door’s just there,” Dean says, struggling to keep himself upright too.

Then he hears footsteps behind them and suddenly the weight becomes more bearable as Steve is holding Sam up from the other side.

“Come on,” he simply says, in response to Dean’s silent question. Dean sees that he doesn’t have his coat on either, he must have been right behind him. Dean nods and accepts his help.

Together they can easily lift him and get him inside. Dean leaves Steve to lower him on the bed closest to the door as he turns on the lights, checks the heater and starts a warm bath.

Then he is over Sam again, untying his boots and taking off his socks and addressing him gently but urgently to keep him talking. He feels Steve’s eyes on him the whole time, boring the side of his face. He has taken a step back and he’s watching them from the door with a thoughtful expression. Dean looks up at him and not unkindly he says: “I got it from here”.

Steve nods, catching the drift. He says “I’ll be in the office,” and slips out of the room, clicking the door shut behind his back.

Three hours later, Dean can’t sleep. He is sitting at a little table against one of the walls and he is watching over Sam, finally asleep on his stomach, clutching his pillow. He promised him he wouldn’t do that, but he can’t help it.

It took a warm bath, dry clothes, a long sesh with the hairdryer (and a half-fight about hair length), all the blankets in the room, a cup of tea – that Steve brought on his own initiative, knocking lightly on their door – two temperature check and a hundred or so questions about how he was feeling, but Dean is fairly certain that Sam is fine now.

Dean is also fine. He doesn’t feel his heart in his throat anymore. He is tired, but he can’t sleep. He will be able to really relax only when the sun will come out and Sam will wake up and he will be able to forget about all of this. If he goes to sleep now, he knows he’ll only have nightmares.

But his legs are feeling stiff and Sam’s snoring is not very entertaining, so he takes out some change from his jeans and heads out.

The jacket that he used on Sam is still hanging to dry so Dean has to make do with just an extra shirt. Thankfully the snow has let up and he is only planning on making a quick stop to the vending machine he saw outside earlier.

As he walks towards it though, his eyes are drawn to the bright light that comes from the main building across the parking lot. No one seems to be in sight but Dean now knows who’s there. And he also knows that he kinda owns him an apology.

So he pockets his change once again and takes off towards it.

As the glass door swings open and he lets a swirl of cold air inside, Steve looks up. He is sitting on a high stool behind the counter now, and has his book on his lap.

Dean greets him with a nod as the door closes behind him.

“Hey.”

“How is your brother?” Steve asks, same cold tone and deep voice.

Dean stops one foot short from the counter. “He’s gonna be fine,” he says. “Sleeping now.”

Steve nods and doesn’t offer anything else. “So,” Dean shrugs in the awkward silence, “just thought I’d come say ‘sorry’ about earlier. I’m not usually such a jerk. You really saved my ass though, so, thanks.”

Steve appraises him for a long moment and in the end he asks, “What happened to him?” again sounding a little suspicious.

“Slipped into a lake. Just an accident” Dean gets closer to the counter, and clumps his hands together on the wood, trying to make it sound like it’s not a big deal. "He’s a little clumsy."

Steve’s frown deepens. “Why didn’t you bring him to an hospital?”

“It would be a little difficult to explain.”

“What would be?”

Dean tilts his head on one side and sighs. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you and you wouldn’t even wanna know, trust me.”

Steve doesn’t seem like he trusts him even one bit. In fact, he doesn’t seem to appreciate at all his evasive answers.

“If it makes you feel any better, we’re not bad guys.” Dean adds, going for charming, trying to melt the ice a little.

Steve still looks at him unimpressed. “That is exactly what a bad guy would say.”

And somehow the stark contrast between what he said and the way he said it makes it sound funny even if Steve didn’t intend to. Dean lets out a laugh and seeing him throwing his head back, one corner of Steve’s mouth tilts upwards ever so slightly.

The air around them lightens up a little and for the first time Dean takes in Steve’s mussed hair and broad shoulders, his strong arms, his tights trapped in his jeans. Dean realizes he may have checked him out a little too obviously when his eyes snap up and unsurprisingly he’s being stared at. He covers up his embarrassment asking: “So, whatcha reading?”

But Steve doesn’t seem in the mood to indulge his curiosity. He ignores his question and stands up to stop right in front of him. Despite the counter between them the guy is suddenly at a distance that Dean would deem a little too close for comfort for a stranger, and from where he finds himself now, he is forced to look up at him a little. But there’s a challenge in the way he confidently entered his personal space and Dean is not going to be the one who backs down.

Steve keeps eye contact as he takes something from under the counter and drops it in the space between his arms, right behind his clasped hands. Dean looks down: it’s his wallet.

“You forgot your personal effects.”

The wallet is closed and the credit card and ID have been put back inside, meaning that with every probability Steve has seen all the other stolen credit cards.

Dean is taken off guard but he’s determined to not give him the satisfaction of seeing him bothered, so he doesn’t move, says nothing and keeps challenging his gaze. Steve has an unreadable expression on his face, but judging from the lack of sirens swarming the place he hasn’t called the police. At least, not yet. He is staring at him as if he’s trying to see inside of him and from that distance, the intensity of his blue eyes make Dean’s skin tingle.

“I charged the room to your uncle,” Steve speaks again. "One of your many uncles apparently.”

Dean does his best not show how uneasy he feels.

He grins: "Guess you're not very familiar with the concept of privacy," he mutters, sliding his wallet in his back pocket.

"And you must be very familiar with the concept of theft."

"Hey, that's a very offensive assumption."

"Just an observation."

"Alright, then why haven't you called the police?"

He knows that he’s pushing his luck, this guy could make a phone call right away if Dean pisses him off. But there’s something that tells him that he won’t. He leans more heavily against the counter and the distance between them shortens still. He briefly licks his lips and grins cheekily up at him.

"You can say it's cause I'm handsome," he adds, teasing, breaking the silence.

Steve recedes of a few steps. "Your brother needed help," he says plainly, resuming his position on the stool, “I wanted to help.”

“And I appreciate that. Is there something I can do to repay you?”

Steve frowns. “I don’t want anything.”

“Oh, come on, we are friends now.”

Steve stays silent.

“Alright,” Dean grins. “Then allow me to give you a piece of advice. If you wanna be successful in this business, you really need to cut it out with the third degree. Cause, one,” he says, holding up a finger, “no one likes a busybody. And two,” he holds up another, “people coming to places like this expect the situation to be a little more chill when it comes to paperwork and whatnot. They aren’t gonna appreciate you playing the Spanish Inquisition with them, you know what I mean?”

“I just want the guests to be safe. I’m not going to endanger them letting just anyone walk in.”

“You made an exception for me,” Dean says, and it’s meant to be playful but it hangs heavy in the air.

Steve doesn’t break eye contact as he says “I did,” like he’s asking him not to make him regret his decision. If Dean had a collar now it would be a good time to tug at it. Man, the guy can be a scary son of a bitch with those eyes and all.

“Well, as I said, I’m not here to endanger anybody,” he says, rolling his eyes. "Alright, look, I can answer some more question if it’ll make you feel better.”

“And you’re going to answer truthfully?”

“Yeah.”

Dean starts to relax as he sees Steve’s face lights up with curiosity and for the first time since they met it’s the kind that it’s not suspicious, just genuinely interested. Then��with a hint of saracasm, Steve asks, “Why are you here?”

“Working.”

“You and your brother are in the same line of business?”

“Yeah.”

“Which is?”

Dean stays silent, looks down at his hands, smirking slightly.

Steve raises his eyebrows. “Let me guess. You’re not going to tell me because I wouldn’t understand nor wanna know.”

“Well, it’s true.” Dean shrugs in his defence. “But, it’s not what you think.”

Steve doesn’t press further but says, “He is your little brother, right?” Dean frowns a little and Steve adds, gentle: “You seemed very caring.”

“Yeah, well, it’s just us. We look out for each other.” He clears his throat. Steve must sense his uneasiness because he lets this one drop as well.

"Is your car stolen?" Steve asks then, out of the blue.

"What? No!” exclaims Dean, shifting on the spot. “That’s my baby. We’ve been together forever." He sounds outraged and Steve seems amused by it. “It’s a family car,” he grumbles, settling down.

“Do you carry a gun?”

Dean opens his mouth but no lie comes out of it. He gives him an apologetic look. "Generally, yeah."

Steve looks at him sternly. “Did you have one on you when came in the first time?”

“No, Jesus, who do you think I am?”

“I don’t know. You won’t tell me.”

Dean sighs and then plasters a big grin on his face. “My name is Dean Winchester, I’m from Lawrence, Kansas and I’m a Sagittarious. That’s it, really, it’s all there is to know.”

“Somehow I doubt that.” Steve says but he has his lips stretched in a half smile and Dean is gonna take it as a win. “But it’s nice to finally know your name, Dean.”

Hearing him say his name makes Dean’s heart strangely flutter for a second. “So, you satisfied?”

Steve lifts a shoulder. He seems to have relaxed as well.

Silence falls then and fills up the space all around them. There’s only the tired whirring of the computer informing them that it’s still alive and kicking and the hands on the wall clock that ticks away the night.

Dean doesn’t like the bright light, it makes the place look like the reception of a corporate office but he likes the way it smells, sweet, sugary, almost like – candy? It’s nice and Dean doesn’t want to go back to his room just yet.

He looks over his shoulder at the rest of the space, the heavy carpet at his feet, the fake plant in a corner, and his eyes linger on the pamphlet rack on the far end of the counter, stacked with local spring events brochures and hiking trails maps. He picks one up and gives it a once over.

“I heard about the missing people. Pretty freaky, uh?” he says, casually. “Did you know any of them? Heard they were mostly locals.”

“No. I- I moved here recently.”

The hesitation catches Dean’s attention. “Hm.” he puts the map back on the rack and focuses on Steve again. “From where?”

“New York,” he replies, a little reluctantly, and that picks up Dean’s interest even more.

Dean whistles and settles once again with his elbows on the counter. “Must be one hell of a change.”

“It’s quieter.”

“Got family here?”

“Just my brother, Gabriel, that moved when I did. My other siblings stayed in New York.”

“So, how did you end up here, then?”

Steve sighs and shakes his head. “It’s a long story.”

“Got all night.” Dean shrugs, then still sensing resistance he insists. “Hey, I answered your questions. Seems only fair you do the same.”

“If you call those ‘answers’,” he retorts actually air quoting and it makes Dean huff a laugh. He is starting to really like the guy. He’s kind of dorky but he’s cute and Dean is not sure if he’s ever felt more at ease with someone he just met than he does with him right now.

After another moment, Steve speaks again. “When Gabriel and I left New York, we went on a road trip. We were passing through and had a room here. The place was in shambles; but for some reason, Gabriel fell in love with it and, just - bought it. I guess he saw the potential in it.” he recounts. A fond smile blossoms on his lips. “He can be – very impulsive.”

“So you got stuck.”

Steve shakes his head. “We invested in it together. I was happy to stay.”

“Well, from what I’ve seen, I think you did a bang up job with the place,” he says, “Might even see myself sticking around for a couple more days. If something interesting to do comes up,” he says and grins suggestively.

But Steve frowns. “I’m afraid there’s not much to do around here. They closed all the hiking trails because of the missing people,” he says thoughtfully, completely unreceptive of Dean’s flirtation.

Dean rolls his eyes a little. “Right.”

“It’s better to visit during the summer. They even have concerts up on the mountains. They come from all over the world to see them.” he says and his voice gets a dreamy tone. “You get to meet all kinds of people.”

“Sounds nice.” he clicks is tongue and tries again. “So you brother is the owner, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then why is the place basically about you?”

Steve squints at him, confused. “How do you mean?”

“You know,” Dean grins and wiggles his eyebrows, “an angel.” Steve scoffs surprised and shakes his head as if he’s embarrassed to hear that, but Dean keeps going, “Helping me out even thought I didn’t deserve it. Trusting me. Giving me a chance when anyone else would have thrown me out,” he even throws in a wink.

“I would have never left someone to die out in the cold,” he says, but his cheeks are pinkier than they were a moment ago.

Dean gives him another of his patented dumb grins. “See? An angel in the flash right there,” he jokes and he even makes a show of ringing the little bell . “This must be the real deal. I mean, I rang for an angel and you showed up, didn’t you?”

Steve shakes his head again.

Dean leans over on the counter and lowers his voice. “Hey, you know what they say about freckles?”

“I don’t?” Steve says, surprised by the question. His gaze is drawn to the freckles all over his face and Dean feels his skin heat up.

“Well, you should look it up and let me know what you think then.”

They share a smile. The air gets charged and Dean gets a little dizzy. He bites his lower lip as his eyes follow the lines on Steve’s face, from his brow, his nose, his chin, along the line of his jaw covered in stubble and down his strong neck. Dean realizes he is shamelessly staring again.

With an almost involuntary intake of breath, he raps his knuckles on the wood. “Alright, uh, I should probably go check on my brother now.”

Steve nods, blinking rapidly, and he seems a little shaken too.

"And I should get ready to leave. My shift is almost over."

“Okay.”

Dean pulls back. “See you later, Steve,” he says, but all he receives is a confused look back.

“My name is not Steve.”

“Uh? Your vest says it is.”

“Oh,” he says, looking down at his clothes as if he only now remembers that he’s wearing them, “this isn’t mine. I’m just filling for someone else.”

Dean makes a pleasantly surprised sound. “Well, well, looks like I’m not the only one with a concealed identity after all.”

Not-Steve quirks his lips and says: “My name is Castiel.”

“Castiel." repeats Dean and he likes the way the name rings in his mouth new and unfamiliar. "Wait, so you’re saying you don’t work here?”

“No,” he says, “well, not usually. Only if they need me.”

“You know if they’ll need you tomorrow?” Cause I was kinda hoping to see you again, he doesn’t add, but Castiel must hear it anyway because he slighly blushes again.

“I have a shift at the library. Actually I should be opening in a couple of hours,” he pauses throwing a look at the wall clock, but then adds. “But maybe I can ask if Steve needs another night shift covered.”

Dean flashes his teeth. “Awesome.” then he eyes the clock above the counter too and sees that it’s five past seven already. He hasn’t notice because it’s still dark outside.

He makes a sympathetic face. “You are going straight to work after this? No hours of sleep?”

Castiel shrugs, “I’ll manage,” he says, but he hasn’t time to add anything else cause someone pushes open the glass door behind Dean and with a way too cheerful voice for that hour of the day exclaims: “I’ve got the kielbasa you ordered!”

A short blond guy comes in, carrying a big box that Dean instantly knows contains at least a dozen glazed donuts, and he can tell because his sense of smell when it comes to delicious food has never failed him. He feels his mouth watering and his stomach grumbles.

The guy says loudly and obnoxiously, “Good morning everyone!”

“Hello, Gabriel.” Castiel greets him.

“Cassie, what are you doing still here? I told you, you could leave early. You’re gonna be late for work.”

Castiel looks at Dean and then back at his brother, “I was with a guest.”

Gabriel follows the trajectory of his gaze and wiggles his eyebrows in an unsettling way, if you ask Dean.

“I see” he says, with a deep theatrical voice.

He rounds the counter and opens the box, angling it toward Castiel so that he can grab a napkin and a donut. Dean almost shouts “Ha!” as he discovers his predictions were correct. Those donuts look as delicious as they smell, and he can’t take his eyes off of them. He catches Castiel giving Gabriel an insistent look that prompts him to say, with a sight: “And does the gentlemen here have breakfast included, by any chance?”

“Yes,” Castiel says and Dean could kiss him right then if it wasn’t for the counter between them.

Gabriel rolls his eyes and open the big box to let Dean select a donut.

“And one for my brother,” he says, quickly snatching another before the lid closes on his fingers.

“Fine, two donuts! But now shoo Romeo, or Juliet here is gonna be late, and I’m the one they’re gonna blame,” he says, disappearing in the backroom.

Castiel wraps his donut in the napkin while Dean dives in unceremoniously on his. He watches as Castiel slips off his vest from his shoulders and starts gathering his things going in and out the backroom.

Then the glass door opens again and a petite dark haired woman walks in. She is dressed in all black and she’s sporting a pair of big dark sunglasses even if the sun is barely out.

She stops in her tracks as soon as she sees Dean. “Morning,” she drawls in a melodic voice, eyeing him up and down. Dean is on his second donut. Sam can’t miss what he never knew he had, after all.

He gives her a courteous quick nod, not bothering to cover his mouth full and the sugar all over his lips.

“Morning, Meg,” says Castiel behind him, and her attention shifts.

“Clarence, what are you doing still here?” she asks with the same phlegm, but Dean can sense a little exasperation as well, as if it’s something she often directs at him, “don’t tell me Gabriel is late again,” she is saying as she joins Castiel behind the counter.

“No, I was just about to go.”

She slides her sunglasses on her nose to look from Castiel to Dean and she keeps her eyes on him as she passes behind Castiel, making a show of trailing his shoulders with her fingertips. “Well, have a good day then, dear.” She says sweetly, disappearing in the backroom.

Castiel presses his lips together and gives Dean a somewhat apologetic look.

“She is a friend. And the bookkeeper,” he explains.

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Yeah well, you know what they say about people who wear sunglasses inside.”

Castiel looks at him confused.

“I don’t.”

Dean stops himself from rolling his eyes. “Forget it, another time, looks like you’re late already.”

Castiel’s eyes widen, “Right,” he says, as if he’d forgotten again that he was supposed to leave.

Dean downs the last piece of donut and eyes the coffee machine in the corner.

“Hey, coffee is free, right?”

Castiel throws a “Yes,” over his shoulder as he disappears once again into the backroom.

He remerges a moment later wearing a tan winter jacket and a wool beanie while Dean is still trying to figure out which damn button to press. Shouldn’t latest models be simpler? He turns back to Castiel who’s shouldering his backpack.

“How the hell does this work?”

Castiel huffs a laugh, grabs his car keys and goes to stand next to him. He quickly flips a switch, puts in place a paper cup and fiddles with the commands on the touch screen; the machine starts whirring. Dean realizes that they’re on the same side of the room for the first time in the whole night, if they don’t count the rescue mission for Sam. They are both looking at the coffee that is now filling the cup but Dean can’t help sneaking a glance at his profile, his straight nose and pink lips. He smells of some kind of sweet herbal tea and fresh snow, and Dean is inexplicably drawn to it.

The machine whirrs to a stop and starts beeping.

“Here you go,” Steve says, his voice low, and their fingers brush on the warm cup as he hands it to Dean. “Sugar?” he asks, now almost in a whisper.

Dean just shakes his head as if enchanted, and he kind of feels like he is, especially when Castiel smiles at him. It’s a pressing of lips but it reaches his eyes.

“I have to go.”

“Yeah.”

They both take a step back from each other like something just dropped at their feet and Dean realizes they were standing far too close than he thought. Suddenly, unprotected by the counter, he feels a little weird and seems like Castiel is feeling awkward as well.

He walks around him maintaining the distance, almost advancing on the side like a grab.

“Bye then.”

Dean nods and gives him an embarrassed wave.

Castiel hesitates with a gloved hand on the handle. He looks back at him.

“I’ll see you later?”

“Not going anywhere,” smiles Dean.

Castiel quickly turns around once again, and this time he pushes open the door and exits but Dean’s pretty sure he saw a smile on his lips.

He drinks his coffee and watches him as he walks towards his car. Then he loses him from his sight as someone in the room calls his attention back.

It’s Meg. She’s glaring at him, pointing at what Dean assumes are the donut crumbs that he left all over the counter. “How would you call this?”

She looks at him with her eyebrows raised, as she expects him to apologize but Dean goes towards the door and cheekily says: “A five stars breakfast. Thank you.”

Meg mutters something after him but he’s already out of the door and he can’t hear her.

Sam is still sound asleep when he goes back to their room. As the sun rises all the worries of the night before have disappeared. His encounter with Castiel has filled him with a lightness he can’t explain. He thinks it’s mostly sleep deprivation.

He takes a shower and when he gets out, he’s still feeling it. When Sam gets up, and he’s got glassy eyes, a nasty cough and a runny nose, and Dean argues with him to make it stay in bed – uselessly – but after that, he’s still feeling it. He even catches a nap as Sam showers and resumes his restless tapping on his laptop. And when he wakes up, he’s still feeling it.

Sam notices that there’s something different with him, because he keeps calling him back to reality, snapping his fingers and looking at him all weird as they plan what to do with the vetalas.

Dean insists Sam takes it easy and stays in for the rest of the morning – he complies, not without putting up a fight - while he drives back to the hiking trail. They fear the vetalas might have attacked again while they’ve been away, but there are no signs of them anywhere.

Which is still bad. If the vetalas skipped town they’re back at square one, and can only wait for their next attack, which could be anywhere, in a day or in a month from now.

But maybe they’re just staying low for a few days, thinking Sam and Dean will move on. Sam is really bummed out when they talk about it but Dean doesn’t think it would be too bad to stay around a few days more.

He gets back around noon to pick Sam up and go get something to eat. As they drive around Dean gets a chance to take a look at the town, the little shops, the tidy sidewalks, the nice little houses with their nice little gardens. “Hey, this place’s not so bad, uh?” he says.

Sam looks up from his tablet. “What?” he asks, like he was not paying attention. He sneezes. “Dean, we need to decide what to do,” he says then, but Dean is distracted by the tall building with the stone step they’re passing by. Hanging on the wall outside there’s a brass plaque that says Library.

“Uh?”

“Dean, are you okay? Have you, like, slept enough?”

Dean finally turns towards him, flashes him a smile. “You know what I think? I think we should look at some books,” he says, like he’s had a revelation.

“What?” Sam seems even more confused.

“Yeah, you know, get to know more about the local history, see if we can spot a pattern. Maybe these vetalas have been around for years. We should check for robberies gone bad too. I’m just saying,” he raises his eyebrows. “books always served us good.”

Sam opens his mouth but Dean cuts him off before he can retort.

“Let’s do this way. I’m gonna go to the library, okay? Do some digging. And I’ll see you back at the motel tonight and we’ll see what we got.”

“What? Tonight? Are you out of your mind?”

“Yeah, man, you know I’m a slow reader.”

“Seriously? You’re a faster reader than I am.” Sam is one bitch face away from losing his temper. He exhales, then says: “Dean, what’s going on?”

Dean rolls his eyes, but then he can’t restrain a smile, especially with Sam’s eyes that nags him to talk.

“Alright,” he concedes. He feels a blush rising on his cheeks and he keeps his eyes on the road to avoid looking at Sam. “There’s this guy – you know, the one back at the motel that helped us out last night.”

“Yeah?”

“He works at the library. Just thought I’d pay him a visit, that’s all.”

“And why would you - ” Sam cuts himself off and silence falls upon them. Sam clicks his tongue. “Unbelievable.”

So they decide over lunch that Sam is gonna drop him off at the library so that Dean can check the archives to see if there’s been attacks on different hiking trails in the area, see if they’ve got another habitual spot they might have switched to. Dean is paying for their lunch when on a whim also pays for a coffee to go.

Sam raises his eyebrows when he sees the coffee in Dean’s hand but thankfully he doesn’t comment on it. He assures him that he will keep his distance from lakes and other body of waters as he carries his own research, asking questions in tourist points in the nearby towns where hiking trails start and end.

The library is a small edifice of just a couple of rooms one after the other and Dean sees Castiel right away, behind the circular desk at the entrance. He is wearing a thick blue sweater, with a zipper down the front and snowflakes across his chest. It looks soft and warm and Dean wonders would it would feel like to press his face against it and how it would smell like, most likely of candy, fresh snow and herbal tea. Then he tells himself to get a grip because he is feeling way too happy to see someone he met less than a day ago.

Castiel is turned mostly away from the door and he is busy with a visitor so he doesn’t spot him right away. Dean hovers around the entrance, takes a peek at the newspaper rack by the door, until he sees the visitor passing him by towards the exit.

Castiel looks his way as he’s approaching him. He freezes in spot and Dean gets to see his eyes widen and his lips parting in surprise.

“Dean,” he says in a breath.

Dean flashes him a big smile. “That’s me.” He gets closer and confidently slips the coffee towards him. “Brought you coffee. For helping with Sammy and – not calling the police, I guess,” he says.

Castiel stares at the coffee and looks up at him again and Dean realizes. Castiel does look surprised – but not happily surprised. His gaze on him is intense and makes him shift on the spot.

Dean’s smile dims. Maybe he made a mistake, maybe he got it all wrong. Maybe it was all sleep deprived induced fantasy he entertained himself with? He tries to see it from Castiel’s perspective. He is a man who showed up in his motel in the middle of the night with a half dead brother offering no justifiable explanation, someone who then hanged around him till morning, flirted heavily with him and then followed him to his workplace. Okay, it sounds pretty bad put like that.

He tries to salvage his dignity, but he knows he looks as uneasy as he sounds when he says: “I’m not a stalker or anything,” he fakes a chuckle. “I didn’t come here just to hand you a coffee. That’d be crazy. Turns out I – I actually need some books.”

Castiel finally blinks and seems to deflate a little, looking relieved as he says “Oh,” and “of course. Right.” he even gives him a small smile. “You are in the right place,” he says awkwardly.

“Yeah” Dean takes a breath. Better cut this short. “So, can you point me to the local history section?”

Castiel doesn’t ask what he needs it for and gives him direction in a professional and practised voice. Dean’s got a knot in his stomach but still fakes a smile and says “Great. Thanks, Cas.”

He catches his eyes once again and he feels unable to move and unable to say anything and he suddenly feels like the heating is set on a little too high for him, still in his jacket.

Dean wonders how pathetic would be if he walked out of there saying “Let’s just pretend I never came in here.” Maybe it’s too late for that, but he needs to let him know that he’ll stay away, cause he caught the drift.

He says “Look - ” and at the same time he hears “Dean?”

Castiel precedes him in saying: “You first.”

“Uh, I was just gonna say that me and my brother are probably leaving town tonight, so – just – wanted to let you know in case you take that shift off of Steve.”

“And I wanted to tell you that I spoke to Steve and he needs the shift tonight, so – I wasn’t gonna make it either.”

“Yeah, okay,” it’s all Dean manages to say, already halfway turned to walk away.

“And thank you for the coffee. You didn’t have to,” adds Castiel quickly, as if only now remembering his manners.

“Yeah, no, sure Cas,” says Dean, and then ducks his head and makes his way to the local history section without looking back. He chooses the farthest table from the entrance and buries himself in old newspapers and doesn’t think at who’s only a couple of rooms away and the burning knot of disappointment in the middle of his chest.

A couple of hours later Dean has got absolutely nothing. Sam texted and he seems to have reached the same conclusion. A complete waste of time.

As he passes through the entrance to exit the library, his eyes dart to Castiel’s station but there’s someone else in his place. Dean doesn’t bother looking around to say goodbye, just takes the door.

The sun has already set and the temperatures have dropped significantly again. Dean is not in a great mood. He can’t wait to finish this job and get out of there and forget all about this town and this cold and those stupid vetalas.

More annoyed he is at the thing in his chest that since that afternoon has never dissolved. Whatever. He’ll never see him again and it’s not like it’s the first time that Dean’s been rejected.

Sam is waiting for him at the bottom of the stone steps. He is still wearing his FBI suit and his heavy coat and scarf but he’s got his hands buried in his pocket and his shoulder drawn together as if he’s still cold. As Dean approaches him he coughs a few time and Dean’s irritation for that case flares up again.

They talk again about how they don’t have jack squat.

Sam tells him in so many words that if the vetalas don’t show up soon they might as well move on. He says it tentatively and he seems taken aback when Dean agrees right away. “No reason to stay around,” he grumbles as they reach the Impala.

Sam opens his mouth to say something but he’s interrupted by a loud sound from an alley not far from where they are.

They stop, and stay alert, ears on. Another sound, then a muffled scream.

Sam draws out the gun from his inside pocket and moves quickly on the sidewalk towards the noise. Dean takes out the silver blades he got hidden in his right boot.

They move in synch and stealthily reach the alley. Just a look is enough to recognize the vetalas even with their back turned, the blonde woman that had thrown Sam into the lake and the young guy that had attacked Dean. They’ve got someone pinned against the wall and the man is whimpering and imploring them to let him go.

Sam shouts “Hey!” to catch their attention and as one of them turns around he shoots her in the chest. It does nothing to her except pissing her off, but Sam gets what he wanted, she hisses and lets go of the man to go after him.

That’s when Dean is able to see him clearly. That man is Castiel.

He sprints into action, white hot rage pumping in his veins and he wastes no time to grab the other vetala by the shoulders and rip him off of him.

Castiel’s eyes are wide and terrified. He looks in disbelief as the creature turns to growl and launch himself at Dean.

Dean shouts “Go! Run!” but he seems to be frozen in place, pressed against the wall.

Taking advantage of the distraction, the vetala hits him and he loses his balance, falls on the ground. He recovers quickly, rolls on his back and gets back up again just in time to tackle the vetala. They roll around punching and kicking each other until Dean finds himself pinned down, his knife trapped under his back.

He struggles to shake him off with one hand while with the other he tries to reach for the blade. The creature opens his mouth and he’s about to sink his fangs in his neck when Dean squeezing his eyes and pushing with everything he’s got, gets them to roll once again. The vetala is on his back, the blade now visible next to it. Dean quickly snatches it from the ground and buries it in his heart.

The vetala growls one last time as Dean twists the blade inside him and pushes himself up to watch the body whiter and crumble under his eyes.

He breathes heavily and looks back at Sam, who’s doing the same, catching his breath with a crumbled body at his feet. He meets his eyes and they nod briefly at each other, to let the other know that they’re alright.

Then Sam’s gaze flies somewhere behind his back and something twists in Dean’s stomach as he remembers that Castiel is still there, his body against the wall and his eyes frantically going from the crumpled bodies of the vetalas on the ground to Sam and Dean and back again.

“Hey, you alright?” Dean asks, shortening the distance.

“They had – fangs,” he says more to himself than to him, as if he’s still processing what he saw.

“You hear any ringing?” Dean asks, loud and worried, trying to catch his eyes.

Castiel lifts his gaze to look at him as he’s asking absurd questions.

“No.”

Only then Dean relaxes and looks back at Sam. “No venom.”

Castiel’s mouth is still hanging open: “Venom? Dean, what -?”

Hearing him speak his brother’s name, Sam’s gaze travels between the two of them and a look of understanding crosses his face. He takes a step towards him, and goes into his comfort-victim mode.

“It’s Cas, right?” he asks and Castiel’s wide eyes set on him as he nods. “Those were vetalas. They are creatures that poison humans and feed on them.”

Castiel scoffs. “Wha- how can there be such things?”

Sam shrugs. “There are all sorts of things.”

Castiel blinks as his world seems to be rearranging in front of his eyes.

“How did you - ” he looks between them. “How did you know they were here?”

“We didn’t. We were actually trying to track them; they must have followed us.” Sam says.

“You were tracking them?” he is in disbelief. “Why?”

“It’s our job,” chimes in Dean slipping the blade in his jacket. “We kill ��em.”

Castiel looks at him and he’s silent for a long moment. Dean fights the urge of looking down, wondering what does he think of him now. Has this made his opinion of him even worse? In addition of being a stalker, does he now think he’s a killer and that he’s made a mistake trusting him with that key?

But Castiel just looks thoughful and in the end he just says, “You told me there were things I wouldn’t believe nor wanna know about. You were telling the truth.”

It’s not a question but Dean nods anyway and sighs in relief.

“You’re safe now.” he says and tries to lighten the mood. “So, can you stop going full Spanish Inquisition on us?”

Castiel seems to lose the last bit of tension he had left and exchanges it for a spark of annoyance and a challenging tone. “Well, I was about to die, the least you could give me is an explanation. What kind of job is that?”

Dean huffs a laugh. “That’s fair. Come on, we’ll give you a lift and fill you in. Where you headed?”

So they pile in the Impala while Sam gives their usual “hunters fighting monsters” speech. Castiel takes it fairly well. Or, at least, doesn’t start screaming or anything. He seems to have recovered from the attack fairly quickly too. Dean, on the other hand, feels weird with him in the backseat. Seeing him in the rear view mirror makes him nervous and smiley at the same time. Sam must sense that his unusual quietness means that something’s not right with him because he keeps sneaking glances his way.

But the whole thing at the library still burns and it’s made pretty clear what was what.

“It’s right up here.” Castiel says after not even five minutes on the road. “I told you there was no need to take the car.”

“Nonsense, you’ve just been attacked and it’s freezing.”

“Well, then. Thank you.” He says as the car rolls to a stop in front of a little house. It’s too dark to see it properly but under the snow, the front garden seems a little unkempt and there’s still a string of unlit Christmas lights with one end dangling from the gutter. Dean thinks it’s kinda cute.

Castiel pauses with one hand on the handle. “Are you leaving right away?”

Dean swallows. “I guess.”

“Oh,” Castiel hesitates, “so this is goodbye?”

Dean’s gaze darts towards Sam next to him. His brother shifts in his seat but doesn’t offer any lifelines.

“Yeah,” he breathes out.

Castiel meets Dean’s eyes in the rear view mirror and looks torn, like he’s about to say something. Then he seems to think better of it and just nods briefly. “Well, then, stay safe. And again: thank you. Both of you.” And with that, he gets out and walks away.

Dean doesn’t know what to do. He stares intensely at his hands on the steering wheel, with a sensation of wrong in his stomach. Every second is too long and not long enough to decide. Sam doesn’t ask what they’re still doing there, even if Dean killed the engine and it’s starting to get cold in the car.

But then quietly, with the corner of his mouth, he says: “He’s almost at the door.”

“Shut up,” Dean says, already reaching for the handle.

He walks quickly towards him, slipping a little on the snow covered grass.

“Cas,” Dean calls and he stops, looking curiously over his shoulder. Dean’s resolve falters, so he starts by saying, “Hey, mh, just wanna make sure you are okay.”

Castiel nods. “I’m fine, I guess I’ll need some time, but I’m fine.”

“Alright, well, I thought I’d give you my number, just in case uh -”

“Something else decides to attack me?”

Dean huffs a nervous laugh and looks at him. “Yeah. No. I mean, I don’t know, maybe you wanted to talk. Later.”

“I thought you were leaving.”

“Yeah, I was - I am. I am leaving. I mean unless…” Dean swallows, and just gives him a look that hopes it’s enough to finish his sentence for him.

But Castiel frowns and says “Dean?” and Dean doesn’t mean to be hopeful but he says it like he’s said it a million times before, like they’ve known each other for a lifetime and he only ever spoke this word to call him. Castiel squints and tilts his head to one side, “I don’t understand.”

Dean wants to laugh; they are so bad at this.

He steps closer. His fingertips are tingly with cold as he grabs the lapels of Castiel’s jacket and gently pulls him towards him. Castiel lets him. Lets Dean get so close that their lips touch. Dean kisses him slowly, sweetly. His lips are cold but soft and so close to him Dean can smell all the wonderful things he knew he smelled of. He pulls back to finally say: “I know I shouldn’t have shown up at the library today. I freaked you out, I didn’t mean to.”

Castiel seems windswept. His eyes are wide, his lips and cheeks bright pink. He cuts him off, shaking his head. “No, no, it was me. You took me by surprise and I wasn’t sure what to make of last night. This whole thing has been – weird.”

Dean smiles and leans closer once again to make their nose touch for a second.

“Am I making myself clear, now?” he whispers and Castiel smiles.

Dean feels ten pounds lighter all of the sudden. He lets him go, widens his arms, “Alright, then. Should we make it right? I can come pick you up in a couple of hours and we’ll go grab a bite or something.”

Castiel shifts on the spot, looks back at the dark windows of his house then turns again.

“Why don’t you just – come in now?” he asks hesitantly.

Dean’s mouth hangs open for a few seconds, then he beams up at him, nodding vigorously.

“Yeah. Or I could – do just that. Yeah. Sounds great. Just, uh, give me a sec.” he says and before Castiel can say anything else he goes back to the Impala to open the driver’s door.

“So, change of plans. You can go back to the motel, I’ll stay here.”

Sam’s eyebrows skyrocket on his forehead. “Are we staying another night?” he huffs a laugh.

Dean shrugs. “Sorry, Sammy. He is - ” he feels himself blushing, “I just gotta stay.”

Sam laughs again and slips in front of the steering wheel with an amused sigh. “Whatever. Don’t know what he did to you but as long as you’re sure he’s not a witch.”

“Nah, he’s an angel.” Dean says and that reminds him of something.

He ignores the way Sam rolls his eyes when he says Good night, Sammy and he goes back to Castiel who’s waiting for him.

“Hey” he says as they walk towards the door, “did you look up then, what I said about freckles?”

“Yes, and it was really cheesy. Like, very low level cheesy.”

“You liked it.” he teases, bumping his shoulder against Castiel’s. “I bet it made you blush and all.”

Castiel looks upwards in a matter than suggests annoyance, but he is pressing his lips together as if he’s keeping a smile at bay.

Dean’s heart makes a summersault. Man, whatever this is, must be powerful stuff.

Dean comes back two weeks after they finally leave town and three weeks after that.

And then he just keeps coming back.

Suddenly it’s spring.

And Dean mows Castiel’ lawn and they go out with Meg and he gets so drunk that Castiel has to drive them home and Dean keeps nuzzling his neck and jaw, making it difficult for him to walk to the door and later in bed he whispers in his ear things he never thought he’d say to anyone like “I missed you” and “I think about you all the time” and the morning after he doesn’t even freak out cause Castiel said it back and it’s all fine.

So he keeps coming back.

And then comes the summer and Castiel takes a few days off from work and drags him up to a hiking trail but it takes them all day because Dean keeps stopping at all the perfect trees to snog against – and that’s every tree. And in the end they are sweaty and sticky and Dean’s body hurts all over and would take a nest of vamps any day over something like this, but the way Castiel smiles in the summer sunset makes it worth it. He snaps a selfie and sends it to Sam and Eileen and his brother writes back glad to see you happy. give cas my love.

And then Cas’ posh corporate dick sister Naomi shows up unexpectated one night and tries to convince Castiel to go back to New York with her. Dean hates her the moment she steps in with a face like she’s coming down from Heaven to set her rich foot on the smelly Earth, and she very clearly despises Dean’s everything, judging by the way her eyes slide over the room and stop on him when she tells Cas, “Look what you’ve become”. And Castiel throws her out shortly after that but Dean understands that even if he doesn’t regret it and Gabriel too calls to say, “So what? The witch is dead, good riddance!”, Castiel is still feeling like shit. So he curls up on the couch with him and when Castiel whispers “I’m sorry for that,” Dean holds him tighter and when he hears him sniffle quietly Dean says, “It’s okay. I’m here,” and strokes his back until he falls asleep.

And Dean keeps coming back.

Soon it’s fall and when Dean gets there he finds Castiel in the little garage attached to the house looking for the leaf blower among the clutter. It’s the first time he sees the space and he is assaulted by the thought that his Impala would easily fit in there, next to Castiel’s car. He doesn’t dare mention it but the thought nags at him all weekend.

And on his last morning, Castiel pretends he doesn’t hear the alarm going off, keeps his arm tight around him and looks sad when he hands him his cup of coffee for the road. Later he texts him it’s getting harder and Dean’s chest fills with rocks because he knows exactly what he means.

It’s getting harder.

One time when he’s walking to pick up Castiel from work to go out to dinner together, his phone pings and it’s a text from Sam saying Dean, you know I wouldn’t bother you if something something case something something we need you. can you?

He puts it back in his pocket right as Castiel comes out of the heavy doors and happily bounces down the stairs asking “How was your journey?”. He is about to lean in to peck his lips like he always does when he takes in his expression and pulls back, asks what’s wrong.

“I gotta go,” Dean says and he sounds miserable to his own ears.

Castiel face falls and Dean hates himself. But Castiel straightens up, presses his lips together and nods. He says “I understand.”

It’s getting harder.

One time, on the bathroom tiles of a smelly motel, Dean is grinding his teeth, trying not to scream as Sam sews a gash on his leg.

His brother looks up at him, his hands bloody, his forehead covered in sweat. They don’t have any booze left, and Sam was never the best of them in that kind of things.

“Don’t look this way, think of something else,” he pants.

And Dean closes his eyes and focuses very hard on the weight of Castiel’s hand in his, on the familiar smell of his couch and on his voice the last time he picked up the phone and said “Hello, Dean.” He focuses on the silhouette of his shoulder against the light of the sunrise when Dean wakes up before him. He focuses on the sound of Sam’s laugh that time he’d seen him wearing an apron at Castiel’s and then they all went down to that weird spring event and Sam had won a salt and pepper set with little bees on them and how it’s now sitting in Castiel’s cabinet. He tries to pretend to be in his kitchen, with Castiel in the other room calling his name and telling him to turn down the radio. He thinks about those things and soon a wound is closed but another is open.

It’s getting harder.

One time he calls Castiel after being tied to a chair and tortured for five hours. He is limping out of the warehouse, holding his phone against a bloodied ear and Castiel replies on the first ring. There’s music in the background and Castiel’s got a cheerful tone when he says, "Don’t tell me you’re here already. The potatoes still have fifteen minutes to go."

And Dean’s heart breaks as he tells him that he won’t be able to make it. On the other end, he hears just music for a while and when Castiel speaks again he just says “I understand.” But he sounds disappointed and Dean feels like shit.

It’s getting harder.

Still, he keeps coming back.

And it’s winter again and the front garden is covered in snow. Dean lets himself in with his spare key knowing that Castiel is still at work and toes off his boots at the entrance. He places the wrapped boxes he brought under the little Christmas tree that Castiel has left up for him even if the holidays have already come and gone. He turns on the radio and starts their dinner. A few hours later, as he hears the keys turning into the lock and he’s filled with anticipation, he realizes, not as a surprise but more as a confirmation, that he doesn’t want to leave anymore.

They eat on the couch in front of the tv, their plates balanced on their laps, one of Castiel socked feet bumping lightly against Dean’s calf.

The commercials start playing and Castiel is telling him a funny story about Gabriel when Dean puts his plate down.

“Cas,” he says, “I was thinking I could stay a little longer next time.”

Castiel gives his calf a little kick. “The whole week?” he asks, and sounds hopeful.

“Uh, was thinking, maybe more than that. I mean, if it’s all right with you, I -”

Castiel doesn’t let him finish. He puts his own plate down and surges forward to kiss him.

Dean pulls back because he starts laughing. “I still haven’t- ”

“You mean it?” Castiel cuts him off. He is serious now, stares at him, studies his face.

Dean throat is tight. He only nods.

Castiel kisses him again then smiles. “Dean, this is your home since the first time you came through that door. Of course it’s all right with me.”

Dean kisses him again and this time doesn’t let go.

So, for the last time he leaves and for the last time he comes back.

He walks up to the door, carrying way too many bags with him.

He doesn’t take out his key, he rings the bell.

Castiel answers the door with a smile.

________

(* what they say about freckles: every freckle is a kiss from an angel.)

#deancas #deancas ficlet #deancas fanfic #destiel fanfic #11k #what's better than a story set in winter when it's 35degrees outside #this is very cheesy i smiled all the way throught the first draft #half au #librarian/motel owner!cas #human!cas #hunter!dean #sam gabriel and meg are in it #i think it's colorado where they are #i did some research and durango has all the things i mentioned #deancas ficlets #my writing

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isolavirtuosa · 3 years ago

Text

Maybe 1-5

[fanfiction] Dean/Castiel

Canon Compliant Coda

One minute I was sitting on the porch, having a beer with Bobby, and the next I was standing in the bunker next to an equally confused-looking Sam.

Parts 1-5

- 1 -

One minute I was sitting on the porch, having a beer with Bobby, and the next I was standing in the bunker next to an equally confused-looking Sam.

“What the hell, Sammy,” I grumbled, staring at the once-familiar wall of the dungeon in front of us.

“I have no idea,” Sam said, brows furrowing.

“Dad?”

We both whirled around, my hand going for a gun that was long since gone.

“Dean?” Sam said, but the tone was all wrong. That wasn’t how he said my name.

“Dad?” the man repeated. He was tall, with brown hair that was longer than it needed to be, and it was obvious enough even for those of us who had no idea what was going on.

“This is Junior?” I asked Sam’s back as he was already moving to wrap his son in a hug.

The hug went on for a lot longer than I thought was necessary, and then my brother was turning around and gesturing to me with a warm smile. “This is your Uncle Dean.”

“Hey,” Dean Junior said, his eyes a little wide.

Apparently my reputation preceded me. “Hey yourself,” I responded, swaggering over to him.

I was suddenly wrapped in a very tight hug.

“Um, I guess you’re a hugger,” I said, patting his back awkwardly for a moment before finally just giving in to hugging my only nephew.

Sam was grinning like an idiot.

“I can’t believe you’re both here,” Dean breathed as he pulled away. “I mean, it worked.”

“Um, what exactly is it that worked?” Sam asked.

“Castiel’s spell,” he said, like that explained perfectly why my brother and I had been ripped out of heaven and brought back to earth.

“Wait, Cass is-” I started to say, even as Castiel was slipping out of the shadows.

“Hello, Sam,” he said, nodding at my brother. He paused, looking at me meaningfully. “Dean.”

“Cass!” Sam said, and then there was even more unnecessary hugging. He squeezed Castiel tightly, and when he let him go, he turned an expectant glance on me.

I stared pointedly at the wall.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why we’ve brought you here,” Castiel began to say.

“What’s up with you two?” Sam asked, gesturing between us.

“Nothing,” I said, which was swallowed up by Castiel’s very loud declaration that, “Dean is uncomfortable about my homosexual feelings towards him.”

“Wait, what?” Sam said, squinting at me.

“Cass, you know that’s not true,” I ground out, annoyed.

“Angels have sexual preferences?” Dean asked, scratching at his stubble. “I kind of thought you were all asexual.”

“We mostly lack human desires,” Castiel agreed. “Of course, some angels have-”

“Nobody needs a lesson on the sexual exploits of angels,” I interrupted him.

“I think I might,” Dean said, looking genuinely perplexed. “I mean, all these years, and I never once… But I guess now that I’ve heard it out loud, it’s starting to… Yeah, I mean, Castiel talks about you a lot. A lot a lot. And he gets this soft expression on his face, and-”

“‘All these years?’” I repeated slowly, feeling my face harden even more. “You’ve been helping Junior out for years?” I asked Castiel angrily.

“Other Dean needed my help-”

“Great, Cass, just great, so glad you could be there for him,” I said. “Can we just move on to the part where you explain why the hell we’re here, and then get us back to fucking heaven where we belong?”

Castiel breathed out heavily, his lower lip sticking out slightly.

It was a ridiculous expression that looked completely out of place on his face, and I wanted to tell him so, but…

“You were not exaggerating,” Dean marveled to Sam, still staring at me in awe.

I was starting to wonder what exactly my brother had told my namesake about me. “I need a beer,” I decided, throwing the dungeon door open and making my way towards the kitchen.

“Wow, look what the cat dragged in.”

At first the woman sitting with her boots kicked up on the table was unrecognizable. Her gray hair flowed around her face in curls, wrinkles etched across a face with surprisingly youthful-looking blue eyes.

“…Claire…?” I asked incredulously.

She grinned at me.

“How are you still alive?” I asked, still trying to process this elderly woman as the young girl I’d last seen.

“Some of us are actually good at hunting,” she said with a smirk and a twinkle in her eyes.

I didn’t know what to do with that. “I need a beer,” I decided, disappearing into the kitchen.

“Grab one for me!” Claire called after me.

“Can elderly people drink?” I replied, digging through the fridge and pulling out two tall bottles which were hopefully beer, the brand name unrecognizable to me.

“We can drink Dean Winchester under the table!” she called, a laugh in her voice.

I returned with the bottles, and Claire accepted hers, taking a long drink.

“That hits the spot after a long day of raising assholes from the dead,” she declared.

I sat next to her, running my fingers over the names etched into the table. There were more now, covering the table from end-to-end.

“We decided the table had a nice nostalgic vibe to it,” she said, before nodding her head around the room. “Updated everything else from the prehistoric nonsense you had in here before, though.”

There were screens and flashing lights everywhere. It seemed pretty fucking awful to me, but hopefully whatever fool’s errand had brought us back here would be over and done with quickly.

Claire finished her beer, letting the empty bottle hit the table with a loud clink. “I guess that’s an okay start, but you’re gonna need to keep ‘em comin’.”

“Slow down, grandma, I don’t want to have to pick you up off of the floor.”

She snorted. “How the fuck old do you think I am?”

“I don’t know, a hundred?”

She laughed even harder. “Oh, god, you are precious. I am the picture of youth and vitality. You like music from the freaking 1970s and dress like an elderly lumberjack.”

I touched my flannel shirt self-consciously.

“And Jimmy certainly made a choice with that body,” she said, looking me up and down, and grinning madly.

“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked irritably. “…and also, ‘Jimmy’?”

“That’s just my nickname for Castiel,” she said, ignoring the rest of my question. “It’s an inside joke, and there’s pretty much no one left alive who gets it anymore.”

“So you two have gotten close?”

“Well, I mean, we’re not having constant crises that require heavenly intervention like back in the Winchester days, but yeah, Jimmy’s always here to bail us out when things get rough.”

“Fucking fantastic,” I said, downing the rest of my beer.

“Oh my god, you really are mad,” she marveled at me.

“What am I mad about?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

“That Jimmy looooooves you,” she swooned at me.

“You know what, you’re right,” I said, standing up. “You’re not elderly at all, you’re twelve.”

“Takes one to know one,” Claire cackled at my retreating back as I took the glass bottles back to the kitchen.

There was a loud bustling back in the other room, signaling that the others had finally come up to join us.

Everyone stared at me expectantly as I came back into the room. I looked at them blankly, handing Claire another beer and opening my own.

“So, did Claire fill you in about Temeluchus…?” Sam asked.

“Who in the what now?” I asked, taking a drink and specifically not looking at Castiel.

“And how the Michael sword and the Lucifer sword are the only way to seal him…?” Sam asked.

“That sounds like a pain in the ass.”

“They need our blood-” Sam continued.

“You know, I really don’t need the details,” I said. “Tell me what to do, we save the world, we go back. Right?”

“Right,” Castiel confirmed.

“Okay then,” I said. “Let’s save the world.”

- 2 -

They put us in the guest room that night.

“Being alive is weird,” I decided, studying the back of my hand. “You gotta piss and shit and sleep…”

“And alcohol actually gets you drunk?” Sam suggested from the twin bed next to mine.

“Well, that part’s not so bad,” I said, letting my hand drop to my stomach. “I could get into that part.”

“Maybe if you pray to Jack, he’ll let you get drunk in heaven, too.”

“Don’t need to be drunk in heaven.”

Sam sighed. “It’s weird for me, too, you know. To be back here.”

“I was never here.”

I heard him breathe in sharply at that, almost like a flinch of pain.

“And that’s okay,” I continued. “I did my part, then my story was over.”

“We always felt you with us.”

“…Sammy, that is some new agey bullcrap.”

“It doesn’t make it less true.”

“So Cass helped you on cases.”

“That’s a bit of a non-sequitur.”

“Is it?” I asked, mostly because I didn’t know what a non-sequitur was.

“Well, I guess we were talking about our feelings, and then you brought up Cass, so actually, no, I do see where you’re coming from,” Sam decided.

“We were not talking about our feelings,” I said, offended.

“Of course not,” Sam replied in that patronizing way of his. “Manly men don’t have feelings.”

“Damn straight.”

“So about your best friend Cass…”

“Did you want us to braid each other’s hair and exchange friendship bracelets?” I grumbled.

“I was thinking about more maybe just actually having a conversation…?” Sam suggested. “Seriously, Dean, what is going on between you two?”

“Nothing,” I muttered.

“Oh, yeah, sure, okay.”

The smart play would be to not respond to Sam’s sarcasm, and just let the conversation die.

Sam sighed loudly.

I ignored him.

He sighed again.

I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep.

There was the sound of movement from Sam’s bed, which was the only warning I got before something crashed into my chest.

The smart play would be to just hold the pillow hostage and continue to ignore him.

Unfortunately, Sam knew that I could never possibly ignore such an obvious affront.

I threw the pillow back at him as hard as possible.

He was sitting up now, and caught it with a grunt. “Dean, is this really… I mean, you’re not actually bothered that Cass has feelings for you, right?”

“Of course I don’t care,” I growled, but I could already feel the anger dissipating. Somehow I’d gotten better at letting go of things. “I mean, of course I care. About Cass. About… whatever. Feelings and shit. I just… he dropped that bomb at me, and then he left.”

“He didn’t really leave so much as die…”

“He didn’t come back, Sammy.”

“He’s right here, Dean. In the next room.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. He’s here on earth. He’s helping Junior. He’s bonding with Claire. He was even freaking helping you on cases before you moved on.”

Sam put his pillow down and seemed to lean forward, straining to see me in the dark. “Dean, what are you saying? Have you not seen Cass since he was taken by the Empty?”

“You just figured that out?”

“Wait, not even once?”

“He came once.”

“Okay…?”

“A little after you moved on,” I said, lying back down. I closed my eyes again.

“…and did something happen?” Sam prodded me when I didn’t go on.

“Hello, Dean.”

My head was under the Impala’s hood, and his sudden appearance startled me so much I shot up and banged my head. “Shit! Ow!”

“I, uh… apologies…” Castiel trailed off, looking at me uncertainly.

“It’s fine, you just surprised me,” I said, straightening up and taking my hand from my aching head. “You’re… here.”

“Yes, that is where I am,” he agreed.

I stared at him.

He stared back.

It felt like just yesterday that I’d last seen him, yet it felt like a hundred years ago.

Time moved differently in heaven.

“You look well,” Castiel finally said, breaking the silence.

“Being dead does that for a guy,” I said, trying to be glib. Trying to break up the tension.

“It’s certainly true that a human can choose their favored appearance in heaven,” he said.

We weren’t saying anything that mattered.

“Dean, are you angry with me?” he asked, easily picking up on my frustration.

“Why would I be angry with you?” I replied, shaking my head.

“I’ve made you uncomfortable,” he said, his head bowed slightly.

“Kinda, yeah,” I agreed.

“I’ll go.”

“What the hell, Cass.”

He forced a smile at me. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“You’re not bothering me,” I said, the anger rising in my voice.

“It’s okay, I understand.”

“What exactly is it that you understand, because I don’t get you at all right now.”

He looked at me.

“Cass,” I said looking back. I felt like something I hadn’t even realized was missing was suddenly right in front of me, but I couldn’t reach it.

“This isn’t how it usually goes,” he said after a pause.

“How what goes?”

“Us,” he said, gesturing between us.

“Then stop being so damn awkward.”

“I could say the same to you.”

“How am I being awkward?”

“Well, usually after I sacrifice myself for you, you say something like, ‘Cass, you are not dead, I am very pleased’, followed by a customary embrace in which you try not to show me your emotional face by making the embrace unnaturally long in order to get control of yourself.”

I tried to protest that, but all I could do was open and close my mouth like a fish.

“I understand if physical proximity is… no longer appropriate,” he continued.

“For Christ’s sake, can we just forget about what you said and go back to normal?” I asked irritably.

Cass’s expression hardened. “No, Dean, we will not forget about what I said.”

I sighed. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Isn’t it though?”

“Whatever, Cass,” I said, turning my back on him and going back under the hood. We both needed to take a step back or this was just going to keep on getting stupider.

And then he fucking left.

“Dean?” Sam prodded me.

“Just Cass being Cass,” I said, waving it off. “He makes stupid assumptions about things.”

“Does he?” Sam asked.

“Yes,” I growled at him.

“So you’re not being a homophobic dick about him telling you that he loves you?”

“You know me better than that,” I complained.

“I know you well enough to know that feelings make you uncomfortable,” he said. “Especially things you have no experience with.”

I clicked my tongue in annoyance.

“Cass said these bodies will only stay bonded to our souls for three days,” he said. “All I’m saying is that maybe before we go back to heaven, you should figure your shit out.”

“Maybe you should figure your shit out,” I grumbled back at him.

“My shit is very figured, thanks.”

I rolled my eyes, but it was true. My little brother had it together. “Junior seems competent.”

“Yeah, he can hold his own,” Sam said, and I could hear the beaming dad-pride in his voice.

“I’m glad I could finally meet him,” I said, continuing down this little rabbit hole so we didn’t have to talk about me anymore.

“Me, too.”

“Hey, Claire got old, though, huh?”

“Dean, we all got old,” he scoffed at me.

“Yeah, but…” I started to say, hesitating. “Claire just… always reminded me a lot of me, you know? Didn’t know if she would…”

“She changed a lot after Kaia came back,” Sam put in quickly. We never lingered too long over that kind of talk, no matter how much heaven had chilled us out.

“Did she?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Started hunting smarter. Hunting less. Making time for a life.”

“Good for her,” I said softly. She’d figured it out before it was too late.

We were both quiet with our own thoughts after that, and eventually I remembered how to sleep.

- 3 -

“Hell no,” I said emphatically.

“Dean, no one uses gas-powered cars anymore,” Sam said, rolling his eyes at me.

We all stood in the garage, staring at the monstrosity that these hunters dared to call a ‘car’. It was some froufrou, electric-powered nonsense, and there was no way I was getting in that thing.

“Impala or I walk.”

“The Impala hasn’t run in twenty years,” Dean Junior said.

“What did you do to my baby?” I asked, mortified.

“It’s a fucking old car, Grandpa,” Claire taunted me. “They break down.”

While Claire and I stood there arguing, everyone else climbed into the monstrosity, with Junior and Sam in the front and the angel in the back.

“Looks like they’re leaving without you,” Claire said unhelpfully.

I clenched my jaw.

“You coming, Uncle Dean?” Junior asked, leaning out the window and giving me a shit-eating grin worthy of the Winchester name.

“Move over, chuckles, I’m driving,” I growled, stomping over to them.

“It’s a self-driving car, Dean,” Sam said, showing exactly where his son got that damn grin.

“Then I call shotgun,” I said, glaring at the two of them.

“Sorry, rules are rules, and Dad already called shotgun,” Dean said with a shrug.

I looked at them.

I looked at Castiel sitting in the back.

I looked back at them.

I focused on Sam.

He shrugged, unable to stop giving me that grin.

I sighed loudly.

“I can teleport there,” Castiel said, looking like some kicked puppy.

“Cass, no,” Sam said immediately, at the same time as Dean protested, “we need your help with the spell before we get there.”

And I looked like the jackass again. “It’s fine,” I said, opening the door and getting in beside Castiel.

“Have fun, boys,” Claire said, waving to us as the car started to move out of the garage.

Castiel sat ramrod straight next to me, eyes forward.

I wanted things to be right between us again, I just had no idea where to start, and it certainly wasn’t going to happen with Nosy and Nosier sitting in the front. “Do these joke machines have tunes?” I asked instead.

Sam groaned, slumping back against his seat, while Dean looked over his shoulder to give me a huge grin. “I’ve got the perfect playlist.”

The familiar guitar riff of Ramble On suddenly filled the car.

“Sammy, Sammy, Sammy!” I said, hitting the back of Sam’s seat excitedly. “Is your son a Zeppelin fan?!”

“Don’t remind me,” Sam said, and I could feel his eye roll even though I was behind him.

“Dad had all your old tapes in the Impala,” Dean said, drumming his fingers against the console. “We used to just drive and drive, listening to them on repeat.”

For some reason, that put a lump in my throat.

“Of course, then he would plug his phone in and make us listen to old crap like Deathcab For Cutie…” Dean continued.

I cracked up. “Did he follow it up with some Celine Dion?”

“That was his freaking wedding song,” Dean said, making me laugh harder.

“So hilarious,” Sam grumbled. “…The Power of Love is a damn good song,” he added under his breath.

“Looks like Junior is more Winchester than Sammy,” I said, patting my nephew on the shoulder and feeling pleased.

The next hour passed very pleasantly with me and Dean belting out classic rock while Sam pretended that he hated it.

At some point I glanced over at Cass, and he was looking at me softly, smiling like a creep. He immediately looked away when he realized he’d been caught.

I continued singing, but I bumped my knee lightly against his.

He looked surprised, but then he smiled again, so I figure that was a good enough olive branch for the time being.

Of course, the longer we drove, the harder it was to ignore how fucking weird the world had gotten.

“You can’t even enjoy the road anymore,” I complained, watching as we passed an endless line of self-driving cars in yet another underground tunnel. “The open air, your hand on the wheel…”

“As you did not typically allow others to drive, I don’t think we really experienced any difference in the transition to driver-less,” Castiel said, speaking for the first time.

“Ha,” Sam said.

Cass glanced nervously at me, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to make jokes anymore.

“Shut up, smartass,” I said, smacking him in the arm.

He looked relieved, but that kind of pissed me off. Why did he think he had to walk on eggshells with me? Why couldn’t he just be normal? Was I really so awful to him?

“How about we stop and get some food?” I suggested, ready for a change of scenery.

That also turned out to be a terrible idea.

“Why are the burgers not made of meat?” I asked Sam, low and threatening.

“It’s better for the environment,” he explained. “And for your health.”

“Samuel,” I said, my voice getting lower. “I will have my meat.”

“Having a tofu burger just this once won’t kill you.”

“Yes, I think it will,” I said, jabbing my finger into his ridiculously broad chest.

“Dean, we need to meet Mellie and Rowena tonight, so we don’t really have time for this,” Sam tried to explain to me logically.

“I already rode around in your abomination of a vehicle all day, and now you’re telling me that I need to eat a… t-to…” I tried to get the word out, but it stuck in my throat.

“I’ll go pick up the food since none of you have any money,” Dean said, getting out of the car and moving towards the so-called burger joint.

“You bring me a real burger, kid, you hear me?” I called after him.

“I’m older than you, Uncle Dean!” he called back.

Sam followed after him, laughing.

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?” I grumbled, getting back inside the vehicle. “I’ve lived longer than the brat, even if my body is… however old it is.”

“Thirty-nine,” Castiel said.

“That’s oddly specific.”

“Yes, well I had to choose which template of you two to form,” he said. “I thought the time we spent fathering Jack together when he was a baby was nice, so I went with those bodies.”

“When Jack was a baby…”

“Yes, before he lost his soul,” Castiel said.

“You are so… you,” I decided.

“Yes, that is who I am.”

“You were… happy then?”

“Yes, very,” Castiel said. “I was able to become a father and raise my son with his other two fathers.”

“I don’t think that’s how biology works.”

“How would you know?” he scoffed at me.

My jaw dropped and all I could do was stare at him, wide-eyed. “Are you calling me stupid?”

“A little bit, yes.”

“Asshole,” I said, but I was smiling anyway.

Castiel looked pleased with himself, which made me feel… something I didn’t want to think about.

“So baby grows up and you leave the other two fathers behind?” I asked, deciding to pick a fight instead. “No, wait, it was only the one father that you cut out of your life.”

“Dean,” he said, sounding weary.

“Oh, no, Cass, it’s totally cool that you decided to move on with your life and never talk to me again.”

“Dean Winchester, I did no such thing,” he said, his tone starting to get angrier. “You are the one who didn’t want me around.”

“And how exactly did you arrive at that conclusion?” I asked him incredulously.

“You didn’t pray to me.”

“I’m sorry, what?” I asked. “I didn’t know that I had to pray to the holy and powerful angel of the Lord Castiel to get him to deign to come and see me.”

“Prayer has never been like that between us,” he said, frowning. “It’s our way of communicating long distance. I treasure the prayers you send to me.”

“So that’s why you didn’t answer me all those times,” I grumbled shittily.

“If anyone can understand putting duty over matters of the heart…”

“So it was your duty to take care of Sammy and Junior… and Claire… and who the fuck knows who else… but not me?”

“Yes, Dean, that is correct,” Castiel said, blue eyes lasering into mine. He opened his mouth to say something else, when the door to the car flew open.

“I’ve got burgers,” Dean Junior declared, getting into the car and tossing a paper bag to Castiel.

It bounced off his chest and slid to the floor.

Cass did not react.

“Uh, am I interrupting something?” Dean asked, looking between us leerily.

“No,” I said, at the same time that Castiel said, “yes.”

“You two were actually talking?” Sam asked, sliding into his own seat and passing me a bag.

“No,” I grumbled, digging through the bag and pulling out my burger.

“Yes,” Castiel said contrarily, still ignoring his food on the floor.

I unwrapped my burger and took a big bite. I chewed thoughtfully. There was something… different… I looked at Sam in horror as a flash lit up the backseat. My eyes shifted to Dean, who was looking pointedly forward as the car pulled out from the rest stop. “Dean Junior.”

“Yes, Uncle Dean?”

“Dean Junior, you and I haven’t known each other long.”

“Less than a day,” he agreed.

“Less than a day,” I said. “And in that day, I haven’t asked for much, have I?”

“Well, you wanted to ride around in a busted gas guzzler-”

“Dean Junior, I haven’t asked for much,” I repeated. “As you may know, I died about fifty years ago, for about the… two hundredth and final time, after sacrificing my life to save the world so many goddamn times.”

“Dad did mention that, yeah.”

“So many goddamn times,” I repeated. “And yet, I am a simple man.”

Cass snorted at that.

“Some might even say you are a meat man,” Sam put in.

Cass flat out chortled at that.

“Interesting that you mention that, Sam,” I said. “Interesting that you mention my know predilection for meat products, when you have schemed here with your son to bring me this faux meat bullshit.”

“Yeah, okay, but the look on your face,” Sam explained, holding up Dean’s holophone and showing the picture of my mortified-looking face as I held the offending ‘burger’ away from me.

“Dean Junior, tell me the truth,” I said, eyes boring into my namesake’s. “Were you talked into this by your embarrassingly uncreative father who knows nothing of true pranks and hijinks?”

“I was,” he said solemnly. “Dad promised it would be hilarious.”

“And was it hilarious?” I asked.

“I mean, you just made this whole ridiculous speech, so I’m going to have to say yes?”

“Oh, Dean Junior,” I said, shaking my head. “You know nothing.”

“I’m pretty sure everyone thought it was hilarious, Dean,” Sam put in, gesturing between Castiel and Dean, who did in fact look like they thought it was hilarious.

“Simpletons,” I said, shaking my head. “I have been gone too long. But don’t worry. You will remember.”

Sam was looking at me like I was crazy.

“Now where is my goddamn burger?” I asked, shoving the tofu burger back in its bag and throwing it at Sam.

“On the floor,” he said, nodding his head towards Castiel’s bag.

“Jackass,” I grumbled, picking the bag up.

“Like Cass would have eaten it,” Sam said with a shrug.

“Molecules,” Castiel agreed.

I unwrapped it and took a big bite, only to see that damn flash in my face again. “You motherfucker,” I said, throwing the tofu burger at Sam’s head and sticking the landing.

“Childish much?” Sam said, grinning like a loon.

“My revenge will be all-consuming,” I said, slumping back in my seat and crossing my arms over my chest. “All-consuming.”

“Mm-hm,” Sam said, flipping through the pictures on the phone and laughing to himself.

- 4 -

“Dean.”

I woke up with a start, breathing in through my nose sharply. My head rested against something hard and unyielding, but somehow familiar and warm.

I was drooling on Cass’s trenchcoat.

“If you do not mind,” he said, looking at me uncomfortably and holding his body stiffly, trying to keep himself as far away from me as possible.

“Shit,” I muttered, shooting back up to a sitting position. “What, am I that repulsive to you?”

“Dean, you were drooling.”

“And you loved every second of it.”

Castiel looked startled, then frowned.

I groused and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. “We almost there?”

“About an hour out,” Sam said from the front. “Maybe a little less if traffic is light.”

“Great,” I said, staring out the window at the endless tunnels. The future sucked.

We finally pulled into our seedy motel, which was a lot shinier and more electronic than I remembered seedy motels being, and then there was Mellie, standing out in the parking lot with a cock to her hip and a grin on her face.

“Hey, boys,” she said, waving us over.

“Mellie,” Dean Junior said, giving her a quick hug.

“Sam Winchester, is that you?” she asked, looking my brother up and down in amusement.

“It’s me,” Sam said, holding his arms out to her.

“Damn, my mom never told me how hot you were when you were younger,” she said, throwing her arms around him enthusiastically.

“Er…” he trailed off, patting Mellie’s back awkwardly.

“That must be difficult for Sam’s ego, as he has always believed himself to be hot,” Castiel murmured.

I cracked up, turning to grin at him.

Cass gave me a pleased look.

I forgot how much he was pissing me off for a moment and slung my arm around his shoulder, leaning in close to his ear. “So who the hell is this chick again?”

“Mellie Hanscom,” Cas explained.

“No shit? She’s Donna’s kid?”

“Perhaps in human years she would be considered an adult female.”

“I got that, Cass, thank you,” I said, patting his chest as I pushed away and moved towards the other three. “Hey there, Mellie,” I said, giving her my best Dean Winchester smoulder.

“Hi,” she said, smiling back before turning to Sam. “So this is your little brother?”

Sam’s lips twitched into a smile. “My older brother, yeah.”

“Oh,” Mellie said with a slight frown. “I thought he’d be taller.”

“Is this Shit on Dean Day?” I asked no one in particular.

“You sounded taller in my mom’s stories,” she clarified.

“He has always been this short,” Sam said helpfully.

“Everyone besides the Jolly Green Giant here is shorter than me,” I said incredulously.

“Why is Dad green…?” Dean asked, rubbing his stubble and looking genuinely perplexed.

“I don’t get it,” Mellie agreed.

“Dean, they don’t understand your references, either,” Castiel commented, pleased.

“Everyone knows who the freakin’ Jolly Green Giant is!” I said, exasperated.

“Yes, the large green man in a leaf toga who makes canned corn,” he said, nodding his head thoughtfully.

Everyone had their laugh at my expense and then we finally got down to business.

“We summon Rowena, she does the Rite of Blood, and that starts preparing your bodies for the final ritual,” Mellie explained as she wrote a sigil on the door in her blood.

“Just tell me where to stand,” I said, not really thinking too much about all the blood and the letting of it in preparation to remove mine.

“Anywhere’s fine,” Mellie said, smiling at me cheerfully as she wiped her hands clean on a motel towel.

“We ready?” Dean asked. When he received an affirmative, he started chanting in Latin.

“This is so boring,” I commented to Sam after about five minutes of it.

“This used to be our lives,” Sam said, giving me a rueful smile.

“Was it?” I asked, shaking my head. “Man, I cannot wait to get back home.”

“Yeah…” Sam said. “It’s been good to see Dean, though. To have you two meet.”

“He’ll be with us before you know it,” I said with a shrug.

“That should sound ominous, but it’s weirdly comforting,” he said, scrunching up his face in confusion.

“Hello, boys.”

We both looked back towards the door where Rowena now stood in all her hellish glory.

“Mellie, Wee Dean, lovely of you to orchestrate this reunion,” she said, passing by them and pinching Dean on the cheek before slapping Mellie on the butt.

“I don’t understand any of these relationships…” I said.

“My, Samuel, this is certainly an improvement over the dour old man bit you had going on before,” Rowena hummed, squeezing Sam’s bicep. “Now what say you we start this rite so I can get back to ruling my kingdom?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, shooting her a salute.

“Castiel, will you be joining us or remain sulking in the corner?” she asked, flashing him a bright smile.

“I will remain in the corner.”

Rowena chuckled at that, and suddenly she was pinning me down with her sharp gaze. “Dean Winchester, it seems the rumors that you’ve been acting a right twat might be true.”

“Why is it always my fault?” I asked with a scowl. “What, ’cause Cass is an angel? Well, news flash, angels are dicks.”

“You certainly won’t broker any argument from me there,” Rowena said. “But the real question is, how much of the angel’s dick have you seen?”

I just about spontaneously combusted.

“Rowena!” Sam cried, scandalized.

Mellie looked between us all with a fascinated look on her face. “Wait, are Castiel and Dean a couple?!”

“No, we are not a friggin’ couple!” I snapped. “I’m not gay! Jesus.”

“Ah, that’s too bad,” Rowena said shaking her head. “You two really are adorable together. You know, my Fergus always was a bit sweet on you… You seem to give off a very seductive aura that screams, ‘I’m the picture of toxic masculinity but also I’d like you to take me to bed and pull me apart slow-’”

“C-crowley was what now?” I asked, mortified.

“Ah, yes, he told me about the triplets,” Rowena said with a grin.

I clenched my jaw. “We do not talk about the triplets.”

“You know, I’m not gay either,” Castiel put in from his corner.

Everyone turned to look at him.

“Angels have no gender,” he explained. “We have taken to equating ourselves with the gender of our frequently used vessels in order to accommodate your human languages which require such explanation, but Enochian has no gender-specific pronouns. I myself have always used vessels of either gender.”

Dean proceeded to make a series of incomprehensible noises.

Cass burst out laughing.

I stared between them, confused about a lot of things, but most specifically about what had just come out of my nephew’s mouth.

“Enochian,” Sam explained, shaking his head.

“Wait, Junior can speak Enochian?!”

Sam shrugged, clearly jealous that his progeny had accomplished something he never even dreamed possible.

“He’s very good,” Castiel said with a proud smile. “If only he could free himself of his human form and speak through his light.”

“If only,” Dean agreed.

“Well, this is all very amusing and all, but time is precious,” Rowena said, gracing us all with a threatening smile.

“Let the bloodletting begin,” I said, holding out my wrists to her, more than happy to change the subject.

“Dean, dear, we’re doing a Rite of Blood, not a bloodletting,” she explained. “Unless that’s what you’re into?”

“I am into whatever you are into, Rowena,” I said, upping the charm.

“Oh, I did miss you a teeny weeny bit,” she said, shooting me a flirty smile back, then shoving me backwards on the bed.

“Okay,” I said, going with it.

“Lie back and enjoy the ride, boys,” she said, then started chanting in Latin.

Sam’s weight landed next to me, and suddenly the room was buzzing with energy.

I started to feel like I was drunk, looking at all the pretty colors swirling over our heads. The ceiling seemed to be getting closer and closer, and when I tilted my head to the side, I realized we were now floating off the bed. I felt completely serene.

And then we crashed back onto the cheap motel bed, the mattress squeaking loudly in protest.

“And we’re done,” Rowena said, clapping her hands together. “Boys, it’s been lovely,” she said, leaning into our vision. “Samuel, stay strapping,” she said, patting his chest. “Dean… well, you’ll figure it out, dear.”

“Huh?” I said, still woozy from the ritual.

Rowena just smiled and disappeared from my line of sight, saying her goodbyes to the others.

“Did it work?” Sam asked, trying to sit up only to flop right back down on the bed.

“Rowena said it did, so that’s good enough for me,” Dean said, coming to sit next to his father. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just…” Sam trailed off.

“High?” I suggested.

Sam nodded at me, a goofy smile on his face. “High,” he agreed.

Dean and Mellie exchanged concerned looks.

“It’s a known side effect of the Rite of Blood,” Castiel explained. “We should just let them sleep it off.”

Dean helped Castiel move Sam to the other bed, Sam laughing the whole way.

I caressed the comforter gently, rolling the texture between my fingers.

“Here you go,” Cass said, tugging off my boots and helping me into bed.

“Mm, thanks,” I hummed, rubbing my cheek against the pillow.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly. “Do you need liquid replenishment?”

“Nah, I’m okay,” I said, looking into his eyes for a moment and getting lost.

“I’ll watch over you tonight, if that’s all right with you,” he said, eyes taking on a questioning look.

“Okay,” I said, closing my eyes. “My own freakin’ guardian angel.”

“Yes, your own freakin’ guardian angel,” Cass agreed, and then I was out like a light.

- 5 -

Sam and I sat in the back of the car together the next morning, sunglasses on and blankets wrapped around our shoulders.

“What the fuck did Rowena do to us?” I grumbled.

“She… activated our blood?” Sam said slowly, flinching at the sound of his own voice.

“And why the hell would blood ever have to be activated?”

“Something about… the ritual where they extract our blood to bind Temeluchus to the earth…?” he trailed off.

The front door of the car opened and Castiel slid in, leaning over the seat and putting a cup of hot coffee in my hands.

I felt myself smiling at him, and the smile was immediately returned.

He passed another cup to Sam, then faced forward again.

Dean slid in on the other side and started the car.

Mellie came over to us and the windows all rolled down.

“Great seeing you all,” she said, “but I need to haul ass back to Sioux Falls and get to work.”

Dean and Castiel gave her a proper goodbye while Sam and I mumbled something that might have sounded like human language, and then we were off.

I slept most of the morning despite the copious amounts of coffee I’d consumed, and slowly I started to feel like a human being again. “Where are we going again?” I finally asked when I was ready to rejoin society.

“Lawrence,” Dean said.

“Of course,” I said. “Back to Kansas.”

“Says the guy who will literally cross state lines just to pick up a damn pie,” Sam mumbled.

“I just don’t see why we couldn’t have summoned Rowena to the bunker,” I said with a shrug. “Seems like this whole mission could go a lot smoother if we didn’t waste time floating around in these tin cans, getting high on blood rites…”

“I’m sorry, I would not have missed that for all the world,” Dean said with a snort.

Sam and I exchanged A Look.

“What does that mean?” Sam asked.

“It means you two were funny as shit last night,” Dean explained, and yet it explained nothing at all.

“We went to bed right after the ritual,” I said, Sam nodding his agreement.

“Oh, we tried to put you two to bed,” Dean said with a laugh.

“It was not successful,” Castiel agreed. “You know, now that I think of it, memory loss is also one of the side effects of the ritual.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Sam asked, looking between them nervously.

I just nodded my head, showing my support for Sam’s confusion.

“So you really don’t remember ordering room service?” Dean asked, giving us an amused look.

“Motels have room service in the future?” I asked, squinting at Sam.

He just shrugged.

“And then you had a race down the hall on the room service carts?” Dean continued.

“Oh, that sounds like us,” I said, relieved that we had just behaved like children and not actually done anything detrimentally stupid.

“I’m sorry, is it?” Dean asked with a laugh. “I mean, my dad is such an… old man.”

“That is also true,” I agreed. “Sammy certainly has the longest, thickest imaginable stick up his ass, but he occasionally knows how to pull it out and let his hair down.”

“Beautiful imagery, Dean,” Sam said. “Who knew you had the sensitive soul of a poet?”

“I am a man of many talents.”

“So you also are accustomed to dancing on bars?” Dean asked, looking intrigued.

“I’m sorry, what?” Sam said again, as I nodded my agreement with him.

“Bars? Dancing on them?”

“Isn’t that usually a thing that chicks do?” I asked, scratching at my stubble.

“And also something that the Winchester brothers apparently do,” Castiel contributed helpfully.

“I have never in my life danced on a bar,” I stated firmly.

Dean held up his phone, showing us both an image of what looked horrifyingly like me and Sammy, shaking our asses on a bar.

At least we were surrounded by a crowd of adoring-looking females.

“Listen, what happens during the Rite of Blood stays in the Rite of Blood,” I said.

“And your mother never needs to see that,” Sam added.

“Oh, I sent her the video.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“She showed it to all her friends in the nursing home.”

“…”

“The video is very funny,” Castiel put in, helping as usual.

Sam and I proceeded to stew in silence.

Apparently the next step in the ritual to bind the Angel Whatever-His-Name-Was involved another spell performed simultaneously on the north and south sides of the hospital where Sam and I were born.

“I thought we would be going to the cemetery, why the hospital?” Sam asked as we pulled into the parking lot.

“Because this is the power spot of Lawrence,” Castiel explained. “It is where Mary pushed you both from her uterus, setting destiny into mo-”

“Dude, please do not ever talk about my mother’s uterus again,” I interrupted him, aghast.

“Yes, but Dean, it was a monumental event that only Mary, with her well-formed uterus, could-”

“What the hell did I just say.”

“‘Please do not ever talk about my mother’s uterus again,’” he repeated in a very disturbingly accurate impression of me.

“And yet you keep talking about it.”

“I do not think that Mary would take offense.”

“I take offense, Cass.”

Castiel suddenly disappeared.

“Uh, we kinda need him for the spell,” Dean said.

“Why do you have to pick a fight with him over everything?” Sam asked.

“Why am I always the bad guy?!” I demanded.

Castiel suddenly reappeared in the front seat. “I talked to Mary, and she was not offended.”

“You what?” I asked.

“She seemed a little annoyed with you, though, Dean.”

“For what possible reason would my mother be annoyed with me?!”

“Don’t we need to begin the spell?” he asked, changing the subject like the asshole he was.

“We should get in position,” Dean agreed.

“Dean and I will take the south,” Sam chimed in quickly.

“That wouldn’t make sense,” Castiel said with a frown. “One of you needs to be at the north.”

“No, my son Dean,” Sam clarified.

“Ah, you meant Other Dean.”

Dean Junior rolled his eyes but smiled. “Come on, Dad,” he said, opening the door.

“Wait, what if I want to go with Junior?” I protested.

“Father-son bonding time,” Sam said, scrambling out of his side of the car, and he and Dean took off at a much faster walking pace than necessary.

“Do you really just call Junior ‘Other Dean’?” I asked, giving Cass a weird look.

“Of course,” he said, his brows scrunching in confusion. “You are Dean. He is not you.”

“You don’t think it’s just a little bit insulting to be called ‘Other’?”

“You call that same man who is older than you ‘Junior.’”

“I was born first.”

“Yes. You are the original. He is the Other Dean.”

“Weirdo,” I said, getting out of the car. I wasn’t smiling because of Cass.

I caught him giving me that soft look of his again, his own mouth curving in a smile.

I ignored it and moved towards the north of the hospital.

Castiel drew up beside me, and when we’d reached a little grassy area that he deemed the correct spot, we started setting up the candles and drawing sigils.

When I was seated in the middle of the candles, I used Cass’s phone to message Sam. “They’re almost ready,” I informed him.

“Good,” he said, shifting from side-to-side and scoping out the area. The only light came leaking out from behind the curtained windows of the hospital, clouds covering up any light from the sky. “Dean?”

“Yeah?” I asked.

“…are we still fighting?”

I looked at him.

His brows were drawn together and his lips were pushed out, and I couldn’t help but marvel that this dope was an angel.

“Do you still think that I’m angry with you because I’m uncomfortable about your feelings?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Then yeah, we’re still fighting.”

“Dean, I don’t understand.”

“Do you need me to draw you a friggin’ road map?”

“That would be helpful, yes.”

The phone buzzed.

“Ten seconds,” I said, and Castiel straightened up, ready to start.

We both counted down, and then I started lighting the candles and Castiel started chanting. The wind picked up, but somehow the flames stayed lit, growing stronger and taller. Everything seemed to be going according to plan.

Then a demon appeared and punched Castiel in the face.

#deancas #isola maybe #fanfiction #warning i spell it cass and i like it #canon compliant is no joke #i had a lot of feelings about the ending

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sylvanfreckles · 3 years ago

Text

Between the Dragon and His Wrath

(yes it's finally here)

Rating: T Major warnings: graphic violence, mention of miscarriages and stillbirths in chapter three (the tags are for the entire fic) Fandom: Supernatural

Summary:

Great is the Daughter of Heaven, whose hand is a net and whose embrace is death.

When Castiel investigates a series of omens, he finds himself at the center of a deadly plot to free an ancient entity from the darkest plane of Hell. As his time runs short and the enemy’s power grows, Sam and Dean must race to save him before he becomes the final sacrifice to unleash chaos on an unwary world.

. . .

Chapter One: The Angel of Thursday

. . .

“I'm serious, Cas, you just gotta ask. I'll ditch this gig and come help you.”

“You're already three hundred miles away,” Castiel replied. His phone sat on the dashboard in front of him, his call with Dean on speakerphone so his hands were free to page through what little evidence he'd managed to collect. He was tracking down some fairly unusual omens—missing persons, strange carvings or graffiti in other languages—and Dean, typically, was trying to interfere.

“I'll speed.”

“The sheriff said he'd be here in ten minutes.”

“Just tell him to wait for me.”

“Dean...”

“Look, Cas, it's just.... All these weird scribbles? Sammy can't crack them either, and if the two of you can't figure it out there must be something bad going down, right?”

“They're dirty limericks that have been badly translated into several ancient languages,” Castiel replied. He picked up two of the photographs from the case file and held them up to study. “I deciphered them late last night.”

“Ooh, how dirty?”

“Dean.” Castiel set the photos on the seat beside him and glared at the phone. He refused to admit it had been his phone call with Claire, of all things, that had gotten him on the right track. He'd expressed frustration that a piece of jumbled 3rd century Greek verse seemed to reference the island of Nantucket, which had been known by a much different name until the 17th century. Claire had given a dirty laugh and, to his growing concern, recited an obscene limerick about a man from Nantucket.

It had fit, with some inconsistencies due to translation errors. He would never admit to Dean that he'd spent most of the night with photos of the other graffiti sites in one hand and his phone in the other, scrolling through a database of dirty limericks to finish the translations.

C'mon, man,”Dean said, his voice dropping to a more serious pitch. “This case, it just...Sam thinks we need to go into deep cover and we might be out of touch for a couple days. Maybe you should head home? Wait for us?”

“I'll be fine.” Despite his irritation, Castiel couldn't help but smile. Dean hated any of them taking a case alone, no matter how small it seemed. “Sheriff Kent just wanted to show me the latest site himself, it's probably more of the same.” More filthy poetry. Castiel had often admired humanity's achievements in the arts...but he was beginning to wish mankind had never invented the limerick. The Neanderthals would never have done something so crass.

“Be careful. You find something big you just get out of there, all right? We'll handle it together.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and looked out the window as the crunch of tires on gravel heralded the sheriff's arrival. “I have to go.”

“Promise me, Cas!”

With a huff of exasperation, he picked up his phone and stared down at Dean's name. “Good-bye, Dean.”

His friend's shout of protest was cut off when Castiel ended the call. Of course he would back off if this looked like more than he could handle. Despite what the Winchesters seemed to think, Castiel was well aware of his own limitations. Particularly with Heaven so low on power.

Shuffling the papers back into their folder, he climbed out of his truck to greet the man walking toward him from the sheriff's car. “Agent Anthony?” the man held out his hand in greeting and squinted at the badge Castiel was holding up for him. “I'm Sheriff Kent, I spoke to you on the phone? Thanks for coming all the way out here.”

Castiel grasped the sheriff's outstretched hand and tucked the wallet back into his jacket pocket. “Well, I was in the neighborhood.”

Kent snorted. “I doubt that. Not unless you're here for fishing and hunting permits.” The sheriff was a tall, rugged, sandy-haired man with the deep tan of someone who spent most of his time outdoors. “I told you, there's nothing much out here. You should've let me send you the reports instead of wasting your time,” he continued, turning to lead the way down the trail that lead to a little-used boat ramp.

“You know how it is,” Castiel replied, thinking of Sam's advice on pretending to be a law enforcement agent. “The boss wants me to be thorough.”

The sheriff glanced back at him, eyebrows raised, gaze traveling from Castiel's face down to his shoes. “Uh-huh. It's right over here.”

The area was little more than a single dock, a boat ramp, and a covered picnic pavilion with three picnic tables. The driveway that lead from the main road to the ramp itself had been barricaded due to the investigation, though the sheriff explained that most people parked along the road and took the trail down unless they were hauling a boat.

Yellow caution tape was wrapped around two of the picnic tables in the pavilion, marking out a rough square about six feet across. Castiel shuffled under the tape while Kent held it up, then knelt down next to the markings etched into the concrete slab that made up the floor of the pavilion.

“Just gibberish,” Kent said dismissively, leaning back on one of the tables. “Coupla kids getting into occult stuff, trying to summon Cthulhu or something. Happens all the time.”

“That wouldn't explain the missing persons' reports.”

Kent let out a harsh sigh. “It's a small town, Agent. Kid runs away, mom freaks out and files a report, we catch 'em two weeks later down in Reno turning tricks for bus fare back home. It happens.”

Castiel looked up at the sheriff, eyes narrowed at the man's callousness. “None of these have returned.”

The sandy-haired man spread his arms out with an unconcerned shrug. “Maybe they got lucky.”

He ignored the sheriff's biting tone and turned back to the symbols etched into the concrete. They hadn't been scratched in very deeply, and despite the shelter of the picnic structure some of the text had already crumbled away in the recent rains, but there was enough for him to realize this was something completely different from what had been found at the other sites.

“It's Sumerian,” he announced after a few moments. That was the oldest language he'd found so far, which could mean this site was more important than the others.

“You mean it's actual letters?” Kent's voice went up in astonishment.

“More like pictographs,” Castiel replied. “Symbols representing words and ideas.” He leaned in closer and rested his hand on the concrete, wishing he could have gotten here even a few days earlier. The entire engraving was unfamiliar to him, which meant this was either copied from a lost text he'd never seen before...or something new.

Whatever it was, it wasn't another limerick.

“Great...woman...of heaven,” he muttered, tracing over the symbols. “This might be the symbol for the underworld, but it's not quite correct, see?” he turned to gesture to the sheriff, forgetting for a moment that it wasn't one of his friends behind him, and Kent just shrugged.

“You can read that chicken scratching?”

Castiel ignored the comment and stared down at the symbols again. “It could mean...queen of heaven?”

“The hell you talking about?”

He stood up, brushing his hands off and scanning the empty marina around them. “Possibly a reference to Inanna, but that doesn't make sense.” At Kent's confused stare he continued. “Inanna was a goddess of fertility and war. You couldn't summon her with a ritual like this.”

Kent was staring at him, expression unreadable. “What kind of agent are you, anyway?”

“I have to make a call,” Castiel said and brushed past Kent to climb back up the trail to the road. This was more than simple demonic activity—this was someone trying to summon a goddess.

It was time to call for backup.

“You're wrong you know,” Kent called after him. “It's not 'queen of heaven'...it's 'daughter'.”

Castiel spun around, only to see that the sheriff had vanished. He held himself still, listening for any sign of movement, then turned to hurry up the trail back to the truck.

The hint of sulfur in the air was his only warning, and Castiel threw himself to the ground as something big launched itself at him out of the trees that lined the trail. His angel blade was already in his hand as he rolled to his feet, brought up to guard against the massive arm that was swinging down on him. Even guarding, the creature's attack sent him staggering and he took a couple of quick steps back to dodge out of the way of another blow.

The creature on the path gave a bellowing cry and charged at him. He had little more than an impression of a bull-like head, mouth open to reveal rows of jagged teeth, crowned with curling ram's horns. The thing was taller even than Sam, and at least three times as broad, but for all its size it was monstrously fast and was inside the angel's guard before he had time to react. Castiel made a desperate swipe at the creature's arm but his blade merely skidded across the thing's toughened hide before it was knocked out of his grip.

Castiel reacted instinctively and managed to turn away from a blow that would have caved his ribcage in, though it glanced off his side with enough force to drop him to his knees, breathless. He rolled as a huge, cloven-hoofed foot came down toward him and tried to use the momentum to kick both feet up into the creature's groin. The creature bellowed again, more in fury than pain, and Castiel was unable to dodge the clawed hand that seized him by the leg and flung him into a young maple tree at the edge of the path. The tree's core gave with an audible crack and he slumped to the ground, his breath a shuddering rasp in his chest and his vision graying at the edges from the pain.

The monster was charging again. Castiel tried to roll to his feet, but cried out as pain exploded across his back as the creature caught him and raked its claws from his shoulders to his hips. The wounds burned as though infected with hellfire, and he was unable to defend himself as another clawed hand caught at his shoulder and flipped him onto his back.

He could feel dirt and debris being ground into his open wounds as the creature leaned down over him, one massive hand planted against Castiel's chest. The stench from the beast's mouth was nearly unbearable—sulfur and rotten meat and decay—as it leaned closer, throat rumbling as though in laughter.

Castiel could see his angel blade, just barely out of reach. With his left hand he pulled and twisted at the creature's wrist and with his right he grasped for the sword, fingertips just brushing against the rounded pommel. The monster noticed his movements after a moment and grabbed his free arm, wrenching it around until his shoulder was nearly pulled out of the socket. The creature's nails dug into the flesh of his forearm as his arm was bent back at an awkward angle until his elbow was practically screaming in protest.

In a last, desperate move he summoned his Grace in his left hand, pulling it away from healing his wounds to deliver a smiting blow that would burn this abomination out of its own body. He felt his eyes flare with light as Heavenly power surged through his body...then the creature was letting out a cry of fury and ragged claws were carving lines of agony across Castiel's eyes.

He screamed, the tentative hold on his Grace breaking apart as the Heavenly power evaporated, his focus broken in the sudden, blinding pain. The monster was immediately back on him, alternating savage claws with hammer-like blows. His stomach, legs, battered chest...even his ruined eyes, nothing was safe from the fiend's wrath. The creature bellowed, as though in triumph, and hoisted Castiel off the ground and over its head. He was vaguely aware that he was spinning, flying, falling...then he was flung down and struck something solid and knew no more.

…

Awareness crept back in slowly. Castiel didn't know how much time had passed but his injuries had begun to heal, if only slightly. The wounds from the creature's claws were like burning lines that were drawing the heat away from the rest of his body, leaving him weakened and chilled. His back was a flare of agony, but his eyes had fared even worse. His left eye was swollen shut, and his right eye wasn't much better. He managed to pry it open just enough to catch a glimpse of the space around him, but his vision swum and he was forced to blink several times to clear the tears that welled up in his damaged eye.

He seemed to be in a small partition inside a larger space. An old horse stall, perhaps, in one of the old barns he'd seen on journey up from the bunker. The walls were wooden, but on three sides the slats were spaced far apart enough that he could see the larger room beyond. The air was thick with the smell of blood and straw and the sickly-sweet odor of mice, and light streamed in through gaps in the ceiling and between the boards that covered the windows.

Castiel could hear someone moving outside the stall—feet shuffling through the straw, hints of a tune being hummed, the unmistakable sound of a blade dragging through flesh. He tried to roll to his stomach to get his hands under him, intent on standing up to get a look at his captor, but flinched back with a hiss of pain when his hand came into contact with the dirty straw beneath him. It was mixed with broken glass so that any attempt at movement would cut his body even further.

It was then that he noticed his shoes were missing, and that his captor had stripped him down to just his shirt and slacks. The thin fabric did little good to protect him from the glass, and even trying to settle back down the same way he'd been lying when he woke up was causing the shards beneath him to bite at his clothing and exposed skin.

The air around him was suddenly far too still and quiet.

The humming had stopped.

“I'm a little surprised to see you alive,” Kent announced. He was at the door to the stall, arms looped through the vertical bars of the door and fingers laced together. His sleeves were rolled up, though that did nothing to disguise the splashes of dark blood on his shirt. “Ozzy's little friends don't usually last more than one playdate.”

Castiel gingerly swept the glass and straw away from in front of him, clearing enough of a patch so he could push himself up to his knees. He was in no shape for a fight, but he could at least maneuver to a more defensible position. “What do you want with me?” His voice was gravely with pain, but he'd managed to keep any tremor out of it.

“Just to answer a few questions,” the sheriff—fake sheriff—sounded a little too cheerful at the prospect. “Who are you, what are you, why are you here...that sort of thing.”

He stared up at the man wordlessly. “I told you over the phone,” he began, but Kent interrupted.

“Cheap suit,” the fake sheriff announced. “Fake FBI badge. Now that could make you a journalist or a blogger, you'd be surprised what crawls up out of the woodwork for a case like this. But you could read an actual Sumerian invocation, so I'm thinking hunter.”

Kent leaned in closer, dark eyes focusing on Castiel's face. “Then you survive Ozzy. You should have bled out there on the trail, but here you are. So I'll ask again.”

There was a pulse of power in the air and Kent's eyes flared purple. “What are you?”

Castiel met the witch's gaze, mouth set in a stern line. He let the silence stretch on, eyes never wavering. His head was clearing as his Grace worked to mend the damage to his body. It would likely still be hours, if not a full day, before he recovered enough to attempt an escape but at least the pain was more bearable.

Kent broke the silence first. He grimaced and pushed himself back from the bars to call over his shoulder. “Ozzy! Bring our guest out here for me, would you?”

There was a heavy thud of footsteps in the barn beyond Kent's shadowed form, and Castiel forced himself to scramble to his feet with his back to the wall. The glass cut into his bare skin but he ignored it, focusing on finding some way to defend himself as the stall's slatted door was thrust to one side and the hulking beast that had attacked him on the trail loomed before him.

“Have you ever seen a Gallu?” Kent asked, almost conversationally, as the creature pushed its way in through the door. “They used to drag souls down to the lower planes of Hell for their masters. Luckily Oswald here is loyal to me.”

The Gallu was at least seven feet tall and four feet across. As Castiel had seen before, its head was almost bull-like, with the exception of numerous sharp teeth bristling out of its mouth. Huge, curling, ram-like horns crowned its head on either side, connected by a heavy brow that overshadowed small, dark eyes. The arms were long and muscular, ending in hands tipped with cruel, jagged claws. It walked on cloven hooves the size of a buffalo's, its legs bent back against themselves like a satyr's and covered with coarse hair that feathered out in ragged strands over its hooves. It could almost have been mistaken for a Minotaur, except for the lack of any semblance of humanity in its form and presence.

Gallu were part of a lower order of demons, lacking true sentience but brutally efficient at chasing down any soul that dared escape the confines of Hell. Crowley had supposedly trapped them all in one of the lower planes, preferring to govern Hell through bureaucracy rather than cruelty, but somehow this one had escaped. Or been summoned.

Castiel braced his hands against the wall, eyes flickering from the Gallu to the open doorway behind it. In his current state he was no match for the creature's speed and power in a direct confrontation, but if he could get around it he had a chance to escape. Its movement would be limited in the building and the Gallu had been made to track humans, not angels.

It struck, its speed just as lethal as it had been on the trail. Castiel tried to dodge to one side but the Gallu wrapped one massive hand around his left arm and pulled him forward. His feet slipped out from under him and he collapsed to his knees, his other hand flying out to break his fall. Broken glass tore at his slacks to dig into the flesh beneath, scraped across his palm until his hand was slick with blood.

He was pulled forward before he had time to regain his feet, the Gallu dragging him across the broken glass to the door of the stall. Castiel gave up trying to stand and aimed blows with his free hand at the creature's wrist. The Gallu growled in annoyance and hauled at Castiel's arm, pulling the angel off his feet and swinging him into the open barn beyond the stall. Before he could get his bearings the creature backhanded him hard enough to make white sparks explode in his vision, the force of the blow wrenching at his shoulder and elbow as he was knocked to the floor.

“Just hold him here,” Kent was saying. The Gallu yanked Castiel up by the arm and dragged him inexorably toward a long table in the center of the barn's open space. A partially-dissected corpse took up one end of the table, with lumps of organic matter filling a half dozen wooden bowls and a basin below the table rippling with partially-congealed blood.

Castiel was spun around and slammed shoulder-first onto the surface of the table. The Gallu placed one massive hand on his chest to hold him in place, the other wrapped around his wrist to stretch his arm out for examination. He couldn't see much of the corpse past the creature's bulk, but he'd seen the colorful ribbons braided into the blond hair.

In the files he'd gathered, one of the missing persons had last been seen with her hair decorated with ribbons in her school's colors. They hadn't just been runaways...Kent had been taking them.

“Shall we?” Kent said brightly. He had a short knife in his hand, the blade flecked with rust. Without another word he dragged it across Castiel's arm, tearing sleeve and flesh as he went. The witch studied the wound for a moment with a frown before reaching for a different knife and cutting Castiel's arm with that one as well. This one was silver, and Kent carefully watched for a reaction before setting the knife down with a puzzled frown.

“Next should be holy water, but I never touch the stuff,” he commented. “I supposed we could start with a few discovery runes, but if you're not reacting to iron and silver...”

His voice trailed off as he looked over the long table, then he smirked at Castiel and reached for another item. His angel blade.

“Tell me you're not the kind of guy who goes around carrying the one weapon that can hurt you,” Kent said teasingly. When Castiel refused to answer he pressed the tip of the angel blade to the inside of Castiel's elbow and dragged it down toward his wrist.

Castiel screamed. The bulb in the battery-operated lantern that hung over the table exploded, and Kent took a step back in shock.

He twisted, trying to free himself, but the Gallu's hold was relentless. Kent staggered forward, dropping the angel blade to rest the tips of his fingers on Castiel's wound, which was glowing with the faint sheen of Grace.

“I don't believe it,” Kent whispered, bringing his fingers up to press Castiel's blood to his lips. “You're an angel.” For a few long minutes Kent stared at the glowing wound in Castiel's arm, almost in reverence, while the Gallu leaned more of his weight against the angel's chest.

Kent suddenly took a step back and brushed his hands off on his thighs. “I'd better get moving. We'll need more supplies to keep an angel here, and I should call the girls. Better keep our guest entertained, Ozzy.” The Gallu gave a satisfied rumble as Kent strode away, but paused when the witch called over his shoulder. “And keep him quiet!”

Castiel tried one last lunge for his angel blade but the Gallu was faster. It twisted its fist in the front of Castiel's shirt and whirled around to fling him out into the open floor of the barn. The angel rolled and tried to push himself up to his feet, only to be knocked back down under the creature's onslaught. Ruthless claws tore at the flesh of his back, tearing open the half-healed wounds from the earlier attack. He tried to fight but he was easily flipped over and then the Gallu's hand was on his neck, squeezing until the bones creaked and his throat closed.

The Gallu lifted him by the throat and slammed him back down so his head bounced off the floor of the barn. And again, the grip on his neck tightening with every gasp of pain Castiel managed to choke out. He flailed useless at the hand on his throat as his wounded body grew weaker, the new slashes across his back burning fever-bright as they leeched the heat from the rest of his body.

Clawed fingers caressed his face, almost gently, tracing the jagged cuts the Gallu had left earlier that day. His left eye was still swollen shut, and the vision in his right was beginning to swirl and fade as his injuries multiplied.

Castiel tried to scream as pain erupted across his face, but could barely get a breath past the monster's grip on his throat. The Gallu was dragging its claws along the wounds it had left early, reopening the ones that had begun heal and tearing them even deeper.

He coughed, tasted blood in his mouth, and let the pain send him spiraling back into darkness as the Gallu dug into his wounds a second time.

. . .

There we go! Chapter one of seven!

You know how it goes! Likes and comments feed the muse and the muse makes the whump.

Okay, love you, bye!

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gray-is-neutral · 4 years ago

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Supernatural

a fan fiction pt.7

I have a habit of following a pattern, but I want this to be from Castiel’s perspective and then Dean’s. :) hope y’all liked it

Cas’ pov

Dean was gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. He looked like he could throw up, but he was still so beautiful. It was really quiet. He seemed very tense.

“So you’re friend is getting married?” I asked. “Yeah,” Dean said, his voice horse. “Are you going to attend the wedding?” I asked him. “I was invited,” he said. He handed me his invitation. “It says you have a plus one-“ I said. “Is Sam going with you?” I asked.

His chest rose and fell like he was trying to calm himself down, and I guessed that the heaters are what was making his cheeks and ears turn that adorable shade of red.

“No,” he said. “I was going to see if maybe you wanted to tag along? You might have fun?” Dean said. He licked his perfectly pink lips and stared out at the road. I studied every inch of him. Still beautiful as the day I met him. Even in Hell when he was torn and broken, he was beautiful. Every piece of him was perfect. I loved every bit of him.

It was a minute before I realized I was staring. We locked eyes. “Uhh something you wanna say Cas?” he said. My heart gave a little flip flop. “No, I just-“ I said. “Was concerned. I think you may have a fever,” I said. “What? No Cas-“ he said. I felt his four head and cheeks. “You are warm Dean. Are you sure you’re not sick?” I said.

He turned an even darker shade of red. “About the wedding, you don’t have to go-“ Dean said, defending his dignity, but why? Why would he do that? Why would he invite me to go to this wedding with him?

“It’s sounds like an enjoyable experience,” I said. “Good,” he smiled. “Hey can you see if Sam texted me?” Dean said. “Yes,” I said, taking his phone, I looked for Sam’s contact, but I only found a text from Jordan. “No but Jordan texted you,” I said. “What did she say?” he asked.

“Hey lover boy, don’t forget not to be a pussy. Take dat ass and claim it. My sisters called they need some help with a lovers point ghost. Sammy boy and I are going to help t.t.y.l,” I said, looking at him.

“I think she plans to sleep with Sam,” I said. “Maybe,” Dean said. “Would that not be odd?” I asked, feeling heat rise from my chest to my head. “Why do you say that?” he asked, reluctantly. “Because didn’t you two- you and Jordan, didn’t you two-“ He stopped suddenly. “Woah you thought I slept with her? Dude I have been trying to get her and Sam together!” he said. “Why would you think-“

I blushed a very deep red color. “I’m sorry!” I said. “No, no I’m sorry I disappeared the night we brought you back to get slobbering drunk with my doctor,” he said. He pulled over and turned off the car. “Look man,” he began. “You deserve an explanation for that,” he said. “It’s just, that night-with Jordan, I was going trying to work something out. I left you, that isn’t okay,” he said.

“You did leave, but I know you had your reasons,” I said. “You don’t need to justify yourself to me or anyone else,” I said. He smiled and sighed. “So did you get affected by the disease?” Dean asked me. “No why?” I asked. “Because Sam did.”

This is what Dean did. I love him, but he has serious emotional blockage. He was redirecting, but I let him. “Eileen doesn’t love him anymore?” I asked. “I dunno, but I think he’s kinda torn up about it,” he said. I decided to tell him about Jordan, she was his friend after all.

“She had roses in her lungs?” he said. “Ouch,” he said then smiled softly. “That must be the worst way to find out someone is not that into you,” he said. “Yeah,” I said.

“So, angels are after her?” Dean said. “An angel. I don’t know who,” I said. “Yeah, but why her? What does an angel want with her?” he asked me as he gave out an exaggerated yawn.

“Sam and Jordan aren’t going to the bunker. We can stop somewhere tonight,” I said. “No, I’m not that to-“ another yawn. “It’s either that or let me drive. Jack would kill me if I let you die from a car crash instead of old age,” I said. “Fine. I was hungry anyways,” he said. We pulled into a cheap motel. “You go ahead and check us in, and I’ll get some food. Want anything?” he said. “Alcohol,” I said. “Got it,” he said driving off.

I knew what I was doing when I told the person at the front desk one bed. It wasn’t like I sleep, but Dean does. So why get more than one bed? Why more than one room? More money for later, right? I booked the room and gave Dean the number. He came in later with two fast food bags and an assortment of alcohol.

“Hey,” he said as he looked to see that there was only one bed. “Uhh Cas? Did you get yourself a room?” he asked me. “I can stay with you,” I said. “Uhuh where are you going to-“ “Sleep?” I said. “Dean? We’ve been over this. I don’t sleep,” I said, giving him a half smile as I watched him blush. As I took out a beer I made a decision and said, “Dean?” “Yeah?” he said, trying to hide the red tint of his cheeks. “You’re blushing.”

That made him seven shades darker. “No I’m not,” he said. “Yes,” I said taking a sip. “You are.” “Fuck off Cas,” he said. I laughed and smiled at him until I could see him straining not to smile.

“So what are you going to do while I sleep?” Dean asked. “Watch over you,” I said as he downed his third beer while I was still on my first. “How did she get you so drunk?” I asked him. “What?”

“How did she manage to get you so drunk that you ended up in her clothes?” I asked. He gave a small smile. “I don’t really want to talk about it,” he said.

“You left me! At least tell me how she managed to get you so drunk,” I said. He sighed. “You gotta swear to not tell a soul, no you can’t tell anybody. Somethings don’t have souls,” he said. “Dean, I don’t exactly have friends who care about what you do,” I said.

“Alright so, I don’t know how, but she knew I was going through something. You know, emotions and shit. She has this self therapy trick she does. You take shots, you give them a toxic relationship, thought, or traight, then you drink it,” he said.

I looked at him. “How is that supposed to help?” I asked. “It does!” he said. “I swear! Come here,” he said, taking out a bottle of harder liquor. I guess he didn’t remember that it takes an entire liquor store to get me drunk, but I humored him.

“Okay, let’s name a toxic problem we both have,” Dean said. “Emotional constipation,” I said. He glared then shrugged and poured us both a shot. “Alright. This shot is emotional constipation, and we are going to drink it, deal with it, and then let it out of our systems,” he said and drank it. I drank mine, and it wasn’t really anything. This felt like an excuse to drink, but he was smiling. This was a secret between us. Me and him.

“Let’s not continue this therapy,” I said without thinking. “We don’t need you ending up in my pants before we go home.” He spit out his drink. “Cas, never say that again,” he said, cheeks aflame. “I am sorry, that isn’t what I meant,” I said, embarrassed myself.

“M-maybe I should go to bed?” he said. “Yeah we’ve got to get back on the road in the morning,” he said. “Dean! Wait!” I said. “What’s wrong Cas?” he asked me. “Why don’t we watch a movie?” he asked. “Man, it’s 3am?” he said.

“I know, but it’s the Princess Bride,” He sat up and looked at me. “The Princess Bride. You want me to stay up, and watch the Princess Bride with you?” he said. “If you don’t want to,” I said sadly. “I can watch it alone,” I said. “No,” he said. “I’ll watch it with you.”

This seemed to be our moments moments when we weren’t paying attention. We just acted naturally. No thinking stopping us. Just us.

He is beautiful. So perfect. When we started the movie, we were at opposite sides of the bed, and by the middle, we were less than two inches apart. “Dean I don’t understand. If the prince loves her then-“

He had fallen asleep on my shoulder. I didn’t have the heart to move. This was perfect. So sadly perfect. No Sam or Jack to make him nervous. No Jordan to tease him. No impala to remind him of his homophobic father. Just him and me. He may not love me, but I think he does. I am dense, but I have had time to think and I know he loves me too.

I laid us down, and he wrapped his arm around me. My heart beat fast, but slowly caned with Dean’s calm sleeping breaths. I pu my arms around him and I held him until we were ready to leave the next day.

...

Dean’s pov

I woke up to being held close by Cas. I could smell him. I could hear his heart beat from where I was laying on his chest. Before I thought, I snuggled closer, but then I remembered, “Good morning Dean.” Angels don’t sleep.

I tried to sit up, but he held me. “You can get up, if you want to,” he said. “But you don’t have to. I wanted to see what you were wanting to talk about?” he said.

I laid there for a minute cursing myself. “God Cas I’m a fucking kid all over again,” I said. “I’m sorry I haven’t been myself,” I said. “Don’t be, Dean. We have been through a lot and I need to let you know that no matter what you do, where you go, or who you love, the people that matter will love you,” he said.

My heart stopped. Cas knew. I looked at him, he wasn’t smiling, but just looking me in the eye. “Cas, you knew?” “Know what Dean?” “That I’m- bisexual?” I said. I had said those words more than once before, and my dad almost killed me. But he’s gone now, and good riddens. “I know you Dean. I hear your prayer to me, even when you’re not aware your praying.”

“I have seen you at your worst and at your best. And I still love you,” he said. The world stopped and I waited for the Empty to come, but it didn’t and it never would again. “I love you too Cas,” I said. “I love you. I love you. I love you. God I love you Cas. I’m sorry I didn’t say so before. I thought if I didn’t, you would have stayed. I missed you and I’m lost without you,” I said.

“Swear you’ll never do that again,” I said to Cas. “Swear you’ll never leave me again.” “I swear before all of Heaven, Earth, and Hell. I swear before the Empty Dean, you’ll never have to worry about me leaving ever again.” In a second of every that I could have ever wanted, our lips met. It was like fireworks at a Led Zeppelin concert. It was like pie and a good movie. It was like a limited edition DC comic. It was everything, and I was finally able to enjoy it. This moment only belonged to us. No one could take it away.

And as we went home, I held his hand in mine. We planned our first date.

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sculptorofbeginningslibrary · 6 years ago

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Gladiators Don’t Run

My Masterlist

Summary: After a bad date and too much tequila, Dean takes you back to the bunker.

Characters: SamxReader, Dean

Warnings: Being drunk, throwing up, hurt/comfort, bad date cliche, a little bit of self-hate I guess?

Word Count: ~3000

A/N: Written for @georgialouisea‘a 2k Quote Challenge!

My prompt was

“You don’t get to run. You’re a gladiator. Gladiators don’t run. They fight. They slay dragons. They wipe off the blood, they stitch up their wounds and they live to fight another day.”

No beta, all mistakes are mine

(though I did edit the crap out of it)

AS ALWAYS,

ENJOY!

__~*~__

“S’bullshit, Dean,” you slurred, clutching desperately to the hunter’s jacket as he corralled you toward the Impala. Your steps were unsteady, every other one taking you on a wide arc and almost pulling you from his grasp. The world spun as you tried to help him aim your stumbling body toward the car.

“I know sweetheart, but he was a douche anyway. Fuck that guy.”

“Mm’yeah, iknowright?” You mumbled, bracing thankfully against the fender while Dean swung the back door open. “You--”a hiccup interrupted your speech, and your hand covered your mouth as everything you’d drank threatened to make a re-appearance.

“No,no, no. You better let that go in the bushes over there because if you throw up in my baby…”

“Blah blah, I know, Dean,” you dismissed, pushing away from the car to stumble to the edge of the bushes. Tiny rocks from the asphalt bit into your palms as you knelt, but you didn’t feel them. You couldn’t feel anything anymore, the tequila had taken care of that.

As your stomach rejected everything you’d consumed in the last hour, you heard the car door slam shut again, then felt Dean’s calloused hands grab your hair back and out of the way. Every heave of your stomach was accompanied by the soothing caress of his large hand across the top of your head, making you smile through the grossness.

Dean had been two hours away from Lebanon when you’d called him, already tipsy, pissed beyond reason and ranting over everything your date had said. You hadn’t wanted to call Sam, figuring he was in bed after an exhausting day of research. Yeah, that was why. It had nothing to do with worrying he’d think you were gross or feel the same as your douchebag date. Nothing at all.

By the time Dean arrived the bartender had already cut you off, citing that you couldn’t even sit upright on your bar stool, much less consume more alcohol. The woman had taken pity on you after watching the quick spiral you’d fallen into and let you sit on the floor behind the bar until Dean got there. Perks of being a regular, you guessed.

“You alright down there?” Dean asked, stepping away when it seemed like you were done. The world was still tilted, but you had to admit you felt better as you sat up and inhaled the crisp night air.

“Think so,” you mumbled, dusting your hands off on your jeans and clumsily stripping off your top shirt. You used it to clean your face off before tossing it to the ground and taking Dean’s offered hand.

You were too busy congratulating yourself on not falling over to notice the sad smile on Dean’s face as he led you back to the car. He knew you were lonely, hell, you all were, but the last few months had been especially hard and this was your first real date in over a year. He had high hopes for you to at least get laid, and it broke his heart it had ended this way. “You feelin’ good enough for a drive? Because if you puke on, in or around my baby you’re on detail duty for at least a month.” You snickered. The man really had a thing for his car.

“Yeah I’m good. Sam wouldn’t happen to have any water bottles stashed in the trunk would he?”

The drive was uneventful, save for your hand playing in the wind through the open window. The cool air rushing against your face and sipping the water Dean had provided gave you enough clarity to contemplate the evening’s choices.

The details were as fuzzy as the street lights whizzing by, but you knew that your date for the night had called you “too rough around the edges,” and asked multiple times if you were sure you weren’t a lesbian before you decided he just wasn’t worth the time and skipped out on dinner to head to the nearest bar.

Replaying the asshole’s careless words stung, and before you knew it silent tears were running down your face. You were a hunter, and that meant you had to be strong in more ways than one. You should have been brushing him off like the strong independent woman you were, but the alcohol wouldn’t let you. Not that you’d taken it so well sober. Dean was quiet for once, sensing your mood and letting AC/DC do all the talking for the both of you. The ride was quick and before you knew it you were headed through the bunker hallways with only minimal help from Dean and the stone walls. Sam peeked his head out from the kitchen as you passed noisily by, a frown on his face as he saw the state of you.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” The concern in his voice made you smile and you waved a dismissive hand at him.

“Just some tequila, Sammy-boy. Nothing to worry about.”

Dean shot his brother a pointed look, telling Sam everything he needed to know and deepening his frown. As Dean got you settled into one of the least-used guest rooms, Sam prepped a chilled bottle of water and some asprin.

___

“Think she’s capable of eating yet?” Sam asked as Dean entered the kitchen. “I dunno Sammy. She threw up just about everything before she got in the car but she’s probably passed out already. Don’t worry I tucked her in tight for you.”

Sam’s jaw clenched at the jab, and he chewed on the inside of his cheek in annoyance. He dismissed Dean’s comment in favor of wondering if he wanted to know the reason for the devastated look on your face. He’d harbored more-than-friendly feelings toward you for a long time, but elected to keep them to himself because of the life you both lived. Seeing you look so sad was hitting him harder than he expected and making him re-think that decision. He studied his cup of coffee for a moment as Dean poured himself a nightcap.

“So what happened?” Sam ventured, trying to sound less worried than he really was. “She doesn’t usually…”

“Get wasted and cry?” Sam flinched at the crass description.

“Yeah, that.” Dean sighed heavily as he sat down, eyeing his brother.

“Bad date.”

“That bad?” Sam felt his gut clench, wondering what could have happened to make such a strong woman feel the need to drown her sorrows that deep.

“Guess so. The asshole decided to tell her she was butch, and uh…” Dean chuckled in disbelief of the words he was about to say, “...asked if she was sure she wasn’t a lesbian because of it.”

“What?!” Sam was flabbergasted. “Dean she’s not--”

“I know Sammy, you don’t gotta tell me. She’s all twisted up about it though.”

“Well she cried, so I can imagine.”

“It was weird, man. I’ve never seen her so…” Dean gestured vaguely, unsure of the word he was looking for.

“Vulnerable?” Sam asked, his eyebrows rising. Dean snapped his fingers.

“Yep, vulnerable. First date in God knows how long and some asshole ruins it like that? Man, I’d love to sock that dude right in the jaw.” Sam chuckled.

“Yeah, me too. I just wonder why she didn’t call me, she knew you weren’t home.”

“She said she figured you were sleeping but I dunno. Felt like bullshit to me.”

“What? What do you mean?” Dean finished his drink with a shrug and dropped his tumbler in the sink while Sam watched expectantly.

“I dunno. Just a feelin’. Night Sammy!”

“Dean!” Sam called out, annoyed as Dean rounded the corner and disappeared into his room. Sam dragged his bottom lip between his teeth as he contemplated checking on you.

For safety reasons, of course.

What if you’d rolled onto your back and threw up again? That was a thing that could happen, and it was all the motivation he needed to get his feet moving towards the room Dean had put you in.

Halfway to your room he had to rush back to the kitchen, almost forgetting the water and aspirin he’d set out.

The tile felt like heaven on your heated cheek and side as you lay mostly naked on the bathroom floor. Dean wasn’t lying when he said he’d tucked you in, but the instant he’d shut the door your stomach lurched and you were worried for the fluffy comforter covering you so you’d moved to the bathroom. Distantly, you were grateful for the room Dean had chosen. No one ever used it, so there was extra-clean feel to it you just couldn’t find in a normal bathroom. There was none of the typical urine stench, no stray pubic hairs lining the floor, and no musty motel germs invading your nose reminding you of the thousands of people who’d trampled through before you.

Not that it mattered in your state. A cool floor was a cool floor, but it was nice all the same.

The shower was running from where you’d left it on, loudly mocking your intentions to get up and climb inside. The walls were dancing, but it was a wonderful distraction from the cruel words doing their own tango across your ego.

“Too butch.” You mumbled to yourself, “Pfft.” Lying on your side was starting to make your shoulder hurt, but the physical pain was another welcome distraction you didn’t want to let go of. “Shower, Y/N,” you scolded yourself, “Shower.” Groaning, you rolled over to your stomach. Your intentions to climb onto all-fours was sidetracked by the refreshing feel of the tile against your rolling stomach.

A soft knock stole your attention, and you looked toward the main door of the room through the open bathroom door. It silently swung open, casting the hallway light into the darkness by the bed as Sam popped his shadowed head inside.

“Y/N?” His worried voice called out when he noticed the empty but disheveled bed. The door swung open and his silhouette entered cautiously. The running shower caught his attention first and you chuckled at his soft gasp when he noticed you lying on the floor.

“Dun worry Sam, m’ok.” As he came into the light you rolled over, your breasts falling flat and leaving the cups of your bra empty. You giggled at yourself and poked at the foam cup on your chest. “Look Sam, no boobs.” Your eyes met his and he didn’t miss the pain behind the humor. “Guess I really am butch after all.”

Sam’s sigh was louder than the shower as he stepped inside and shut it off. He smiled down at you when he turned back around. “You’re not butch, Y/N. Even if you had no boobs you still wouldn’t be butch.”

“Pfft. You’re jus’ sayin that. S’ok Sammy,” you threw your arms out and they landed beside you with a hard thunk, “secrets out. ‘M a butch ass bitch!” Your eyes tried to focus on his face, but between the fluorescent lights, the alcohol, and your awkward positioning on the floor, he was fuzzy. “Hey Sammy, did you know you’re like, really tall? I can’t even see you up there.” You giggled again as he bent down to scoop you into his arms.

“How about now?” His tone was playful as his face finally came into focus. You peeked at the floor and closed your eyes as the world tilted.

“Now I’m tall. Oh god Sammy, feels gross up here.” You groaned and stuffed your face into his shirt as he carried you back into the cool darkness of the bedroom proper. When he laid you on the top of the comforter you snuggled into it without actually covering up. It was too hot. You wanted to complain as he walked away, but he was only gone for a moment, returning with the small trashcan from the bathroom. “So nice,” you murmured, “You’re so nice Sammy. Why can’t a guy like you like me?” Your eyes were closed now, so you missed the hurt look that crossed his face.

“I do like you, Y/N.”

“Mmm,” was your noncommittal response as you rolled to your side to look up at his wavering form. He cleared his throat awkwardly under your scrutiny.

“There’s some water and asprin on the table there for the morning. You need anything else?”

You shook your head sloppily and pulled a pillow to your chest. “Nah Sam, I’m good.” As everything settled again the tears threatened to make a return, but you sniffled them back, hoping Sam wouldn’t notice. The bed dipped under his weight as he sat on the edge by your feet.

“You know Y/N…” You shifted cross-ways on the bed to get a better look at him when you realized he wasn’t leaving. “...you’re not too butch. That guy was just an asshole.”

“S’what Dean said, too.” Your voice was a whisper as you watched him, and you felt curiosity start to bubble up as you dimly realized he looked like he was wrestling with something mentally.

“Even if you were everything that guy said you are, you would still be perfect. There’s nothing wrong with being strong, physically or mentally. And that’s what you are. Strong.” His large hand came to rest on your knee, squeezing reassuringly. Heat blossomed in your gut at his touch and for the first time since you’d left dinner you smiled. Sam and his big heart would be the death of you. You were drunk, but you weren’t stupid enough to think he was being anything more than friendly. His words were nice, and you were feeling like shit.

Maybe it was the feelings you’d been holding back. Maybe it was the warmth of his chaotically beautiful hazel eyes in soft light. Maybe it was the alcohol or the raw feeling of rejection, or just the desperate need to feel a warm body pressed against you that prompted your next question. You knew you’d probably feel like a jackass the next day for asking, but in the moment it seemed like a good idea.

“Sammy?”

“Yeah, Y/N?”

“Will you lay with me tonight?” Sam’s gut clenched with nerves as your soft, unsure, voice stole over him. You clutched the pillow tighter as one side of his mouth quirked into a small grin.

“You sure? I don’t wanna--”

“I’m not asking you to fuck me Sam.” you interrupted hastily, not wanting to feel the sting of rejection again. “Just lay with me.” He nodded softly and rose, moving out of your view. You closed your eyes and braced yourself for the sound of the door clicking shut, but your ears were met instead with the soft rustling of his clothes as he climbed into bed behind you. You were genuinely surprised when the bed dipped in the center and his strong arms pulled your back flush to his chest. Without speaking you scooted back until his large frame was slotted perfectly against yours. The sound that left your chest could have been a purr, and Sam chuckled. He allowed himself to nuzzle the back of your head with his nose, inhaling the familiar scent of your shampoo. It was an unexpected turn of events having you so close, and he was glad you’d chosen him to stay instead of Dean.

“I didn’t think you were asking me to fuck you, Y/N,” he said softly, feeling the tension in your body drain away as the vibrations of his voice traveled through his chest into the naked skin of your back, “I just wanted to make sure cuddling with me is something you actually wanted to do.”

“Who wouldn’t wanna snuggle a Winchester?” You asked cheekily. He smiled against the back of your head, taking a risk and planting a soft kiss there.

“Yeah, cuz’ we’re so cuddly.”

“Feelin’ pretty cuddly right now,” you mumbled, closing your eyes and wiggling back into his embrace. Sam clenched his jaw as your ass nudged right into his crotch, willing himself to think about anything other than the soft feel of your skin. The last thing he wanted was for ‘Little Sam’ to ruin the moment.

The room descended into silence, leaving only the ambient noise of the air conditioning system and the soft breathing of two hard-headed hunters who didn’t know how to express their feelings for one another.

Sam was half asleep when you spoke again, feeling warm and fuzzy and hoping against all hope you wouldn’t apologize for this in the morning.

“Think I’mma give up.”

“Hm?” He asked groggily, slowly coming back to consciousness as your words registered.

“On dating. On men.” Sam’s arm tightened around your waist, pulling you tight to him.

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not? Next time I see someone that makes me think about trying I’ll just run the other direction.” How you could be so drunk yet so insolent would forever be a mystery to Sam as he sighed deeply and mumbled into your shoulder.

“You don’t get to run. You’re a gladiator. Gladiators don’t run. They fight. They slay dragons. They wipe off the blood, they stitch up their wounds and they live to fight another day.”

Your eyes stayed closed but you erupted into an almost silent fit of giggles. Sam felt your body jumping and sat up slightly to look at you, thinking you’d started crying.

“Did you just quote ‘Scandal’ to me?” He saw the soft smile on your face and dropped back down with a huff. He wanted to act cranky with your teasing but he couldn’t deny the butterflies soaring in his stomach.

“Shut up, I was being inspirational,” he grumbled. Your giggles died down as you snuggled back into him and his arm tightened around your waist. His embrace felt like home, and you decided that he was right.

You were a hunter. A gladiator fighting all the wrong battles with all the wrong people. The right one was there with you, and if it was still wrapped around you in the morning it would be worth the risk to find out if he felt the same. It was time to stop running.

__~*~__

4ever&ever Tags: @ain-t-bovvered @bamby0304 @curly-haired-disaster @dean-winchesters-bacon @ldyhawkeye @justcallmeasmodeus @maddiepants @mogaruke @mrs-meghan-winchester @stormy-skies-1997 @supernatural-teamfreewillpage @waywardbaby

#georgies2kquotechallenge #2kquotechallenge #challenge #one shot #samxreader #sam x reader #mutual pining #spn #spn fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction

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dontshootmespence · 6 years ago

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Supernatural AU: Episode 7 - Memories Remain

Part 5

Beka giving the bracelet to Scott had probably inadvertently sent her parents’ disturbed spirits into a spiral. “So her parents already wanted the kid dead and then when their daughter gave him the bracelet, it set their plan for revenge in motion.” Dean climbed over the fence and waited for his brother, making sure to stay out of the camera’s line of sight.

The local police department had been cooperative so far in the “investigation,” so getting caught on camera breaking into evidence lockup would probably fuck up their rapport for any future supernatural jobs. Plus, evading the police was a full-time job in and of itself and the three of them didn’t need more work. “Probably yea,” Sam said as he hopped down from the chain-link fence. “But that only explains how it attacked Scoot, because their spirits are attached to the bracelet. How were they able to go after Delilah when the bracelet was in lock-up?”

Approaching the door, Dean dipped down with a furrowed brow and began working on picking the lock. “I don’t know. I guess it’s possible that there is more than one object that they’re attached to. It’s rare, but it’s possible. And maybe they just don’t need to be tethered to an object.”

“They always are.”

“Yea, but there’s no way that we know absolutely everything about this stuff. There’s gotta be something out there we haven’t encountered yet.”

Normally, Sam would be the one with that kind of rationale. Dean was compartmentalizing because he was worried about Bobbie. “I knew it. You are worried about her.”

“Of course, I am,” Dean snapped under his breath. “But she’s just like us, she won’t talk until she’s ready. It just so happens that she’s normally ready before us.”

The lock clicked under Dean’s deft movements and they slipped inside. Thankfully, the department had a pretty juvenile security system so Sam had been able to hack it and turn off the inside cameras. The ones trained on the outside of the building were harder because they were owned by the town. “Alright, let’s find their evidence box.”

Since it was a small town there weren’t a ton of active cases, which meant they found the box within a matter of minutes. “Here it is,” Sam whispered, pulling the bag holding the bracelet parts out.”

Just as Dean was about to reply, the spirits of Beka’s parents appeared before them again. “Okay, so apparently they CAN leave the house!”

“Run!”

In the still of the night, Dean and Sam bolted out of the station the same way they came, evading the cameras until they were in the middle of an open field just a few hundred feet away.

Both spirits approached, a fire and liveliness in their eyes despite all the evidence to the contrary. “Okay, Sammy, now would be a good time to light that baby up!”

“I’m trying! Believe it or not it takes a lot of heat to melt metal!” He pulled out the bottle of lighter fluid he had in his coat pocket and doused the metal, pulling the lighter from his pocket and pressing down. Again and again the light flickered into nothingness as Beka’s parents continue their descent.

Dean watched in futility until the hairs and his neck stood up and caused him to pat down his pockets, praying that he had a matchbox on him. With two quick movements, he slipped the match out of the box and dragged across the side providing them with that all important flame before he dropped it to the ground. “Why isn’t it working?” He asked, pushing Sam away from the spirits.

“I told you! It’s metal! It’s going to take a while!”

“So what the hell are we supposed to do? Keep running around this field like idiots until it heats up enough and hopefully poofs into existence?”

“Sounds like the best plan we have at the moment.”

To anyone driving passed the field, it would just look like two guys chasing each other around an open field. For the locals, it was a place that came to be known as Footballer’s Field, so maybe Dean and Sam were just two former students reminiscing about a long ago football game. If they could see what was actually happening, there’d be a five-car pile up.

After dodging behind trees and sprinting from spirits that could literally disappear and appear at will, Dean heard a crackling just before they burst into flames. “Shit…we need to find a way to burn metal faster for the future.”

-------

Before the phone could get loud enough to wake Delilah, Beka and Nadiya, Bobbie slipped the phone out of her pocket. “Sam?”

“Yea, it’s all done. The bracelet is gone and they vanished.”

She sighed in relief, her eyes raking over the three college students. Their world would never truly be the same; with knowledge of the supernatural, nothing could ever be truly normal, but by tomorrow they could hopefully put this all behind them and resume college life. Study, drink, party – the trifecta. “Good, I’ll wait here until you guys get back. Drive safe, okay?”

“I mean I’m not driving, Dean is so there are no guarantees.”

With a snicker, she hung up the phone and felt her lids get heavy, but apparently Beka and Nadiya had both been awake. “It’s over?”

“We think so,” Bobbie replied. Beka’s eyes were red and puffy after hours of crying, of trying to understand the reality of something so nonsensical. “I’m gonna wait here until my brothers get back, so try and get some sleep. You have tests soon right?” Nadiya had mentioned it in passing before; there was no way Bobbie would have been able to take a test after all this bullshit.

Just as Nadiya’s eyelids fell and she sank into her chair, Bobbie saw the lights dim and flash and dim and flash. There was an approaching storm, but its lack of pattern had the hairs on her arms standing on edge. “What’s wrong?” Beka asked.

Honesty was the best policy apparently – especially when they were already aware of exactly what had happened. “I don’t know.”

As the words left her mouth, two people appeared before her, their scowls set deep in the creases of their faces, eyes intent on their target. Either these were Beka’s parents or Beka, Delilah and Nadiya were the some of the unluckiest girls on the planet. Ripping the small iron rod from her pocket, she went to swipe at the apparitions before getting smacked into the wall behind her. Her head pounded and her world spun while the two descended upon Delilah again.

“Beka!”

She stood frozen in place, eyes glistening with tears. Delilah tried to move but couldn’t and Nadiya had backed into the corner, fighting her flight or fight response.

“Beka!”

“What’s happening? I thought this was over!”

“Something else is keeping them here! Is there something of sentimental value in the room?”

She felt a wet spot on the back of her head and pulled her fingers away to reveal a crimson smear. Beka scanned the room until her eyes fell on the plush rabbit her friend had been clutching. “Ears! My parents gave it to me for my seventh birthday!”

Bobbie scrambled from the floor and ripped the plush toy from Delilah’s shaking grasp before watching it flame up, its cinders dropping to the floor.

Her father blipped out of existence, leaving just her mother fighting against the elements, against the very fabric of existence to stay by her daughter’s side. “Mom! Please!”

When their eyes met, Beka begged, “Please Mom, I’m okay! I just want to move on! I want you and Dad to be happy! I’ll be okay but you have to stop doing this!”

The spirit’s eyes softened.

“Please, Mom. This isn’t who you are.”

Her eyes closed, and then she vanished.

Beka collapsed to the ground, sobbing when Nadiya came to her side. “It’s over,” she whispered.

She’d been through so much, she couldn’t trust that they were gone – that no one would get hurt anymore. “Is it over?” She asked Bobbie. “Like really over?”

“I’m positive.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because your mother didn’t leave when I got rid of what was keeping her here, but hearing you did. Once they’ve crossed planes they can’t come back. I’m so sorry, Beka.” Knowing your mother died horrifically was one thing, but having to watch your mother turn into something she wasn’t – that had to be hell on earth.

“What the hell happened?” Dean exclaimed, earning him a shush from a few rooms down.

“Nice of you to show up.” Bobbie rubbed the back of her head. “Apparently, burning the bracelet wasn’t enough, but it’s over now.”

Sam and Dean glanced between the four of them in confusion, but after another round of thank yous, the Winchesters left the hospital and headed back toward the motel room.

“So what the hell happened?” Sam wondered.

As Bobbie explained, she felt her head began to spin again. She needed sleep.

“I’m just glad it’s over,” Dean said after she’d finished. “Now we can get some sleep.”

Some cosmic entity really hated them because as soon as Dean spoke, Bobbie’s phone began to ring again. “Hello? Dad?”

@remember-me-forever-silent-angel @gaylemonshark @marveldivergentouatdctvfangirl @lalirang @averagekansan @addsomesalt @stusbunker @sebba-hiddles @fanfictionrecommendations-com @hoppy519 @thatwrestlingfan91 @extremeobsessions101 @spence-imagines @bettercallsabs @whaaatthefuuuuck @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @your-imagination-runs-wild @cryinglots @steggy01 @gigilame @sedulous-mind @a-unique-girls-heaven @just-antiyou @rmmalta @original-criminal-fanfics @ties-n-suits @veroinnumera @eurusholmmes @fanficienjoyedreading @astridstark13 @demonlover87 @kennybud @shittyafblogwnopoint @pleasantlyfadingpeace @bulldozed88 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @mbmrocks

#ocappreciation #supernatural #supernatural au #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #sam winchester #bobbie deanna winchester #dontshootmespence #born to fire #memories remain #s1ep7

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fatestemptress · 7 years ago

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Paramount Remembrances - Chapter Two

Summary: Dean Winchester has reached a point in his life where he doesn’t have many firsts left to fulfill. Except maybe falling in love. This is the story of how he got there.

Warnings: Smut. Lots and lots of smut. Oral (male & female receiving). Dry humping. Backseat sex. Teaching/Guiding. 18 Plus ONLY!

Pairings: Young Dean x OFC, Dean x OFC, Dean x Reader (Eventually)

Word Count On this Chapter: 1,553

A/N: Here we go! Part Two!

Please note, I’m not sticking to canon timelines as rigidly as some wonderful writers do. Please take any errors in timeline continuity with a grain of salt. Many thanks!

As I said before, I’m new to tumblr so if any of this posts incorrectly, I apologize.

Please note, this is unbeta’d. Any and all grammatical errors are mine. (And I’m sure there are PLENTY. :))

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dean was eighteen when he lost his virginity.

The back of the Chevy that his father had officially gifted to him on his eighteenth birthday has seen a hell of a lot of action. But the night Dean first slid into his first wet pussy would easily go down in history as one of the best on the sizzle reel.

Her name had been Gillian.

Such a sweet name for such a dirty girl.

His dad had left him and his brother behind and took up with another hunter friend on a tough case wanting to keep them out of the more dangerous hunts until he felt they were ready.

One evening, with Sammy at the town library studying God knows what, Dean had made his way down the road to the diner closest to the motel they were staying at. He sat down at a corner booth, looking out the window, bored out of his mind, when a sweet voice interrupted his musings.

“Hi, I’m Gillian. What can I get ya?”

Dean turned his head and looked up into the sweetest hazel eyes this side of Texas. Her long red hair was gathered into a side ponytail and curled softly down the front of her waitress uniform. Her small waist led to a curvy set of hips that immediately made things inside of him tighten.

A slow smile spread across his face and he watched as she bit the bottom of her lip as he tilted his head and looked up at her, “The special, please.”

She blinked down at him, “Uh, yeah sure. Coming right up.”

One special and three coffees later, Gillian was off work and taking Dean on a tour through town, telling him about her plan to get the hell outta dodge the second she graduated from college in a year.

Two nights later, in his car, on some cliff overlooking some lights that Dean never got to appreciate, Gillian sat beside Dean in the backseat as she led his hand under her skirt and over her soaked panties as his tongue licked its way into her mouth.

His fingers hesitated for the slightest of seconds. He had never touched a girl down there before. Sure, he had rubbed his jean covered dick against an equally covered pussy, but he and Mandy never got as far as him actually putting his fingers on her.

But when Dean rubbed his way over Gillian’s soaked white panties and she reached down and pulled them to the side for him, he was hooked.

Gently, he rubbed his fingers over her folds and swallowed her erratic breaths as he slid his middle finger down to her waiting hole.

Should he? Shouldn’t he?

Gillian answered the question for him as she canted her hips into his touch and whined when the tip of his finger entered her. When he still hesitated, she reached down and pressed his middle finger in deeper and moaned into his mouth, her tongue darting out and wrapping against his as she kissed him deeply.

“Fuck.” He whispered into her mouth as he slowly started moving his hand, savoring the feel of her slick running down his finger onto his hand.

Gillian broke the kiss and moved her hips into his motions, her harsh breaths grazing along his lips as she met his eyes with intensity. With a low groan, Dean licked his way down to the swell of her breasts and she immediately started unbuttoning her shirt and threw it somewhere behind her. Her white lacy bra glowed in the moonlight and he pulled down the cup with his free hand to suck her nipple deep into his mouth.

Before he could contemplate his next move, Gillian was pulling back from him as she shimmied out of her panties. Quickly, she unbuckled his belt and pulled down his jeans, “Need you now, Dean.”

Dean lifted his hips, “Ummm, o-okay.” He answered as he helped her bring his jeans down to his ankles.

Gillian lifted an eyebrow at him as she took in his dick, “Well that is pleasantly surprising.”

Dean blinked at her and let out a small huff, “Uh, thanks?

She reached behind her and undid her bra throwing it in the same direction as her shirt, “You got a condom, right?”

“Uhhh, yeah, in my, uh, wallet.”

The same condom his dad had given to him when he had turned eighteen along with a long embarrassing speech about safe sex and the rules of the road.

As he fumbled through his jacket pockets, looking for his wallet, sweet Gillian leaned over and engulfed his cock in one smooth stroke, careful to put her lips over her teeth. Immediately, his fingers gripped the leather of his jacket in a death grip as he tried to keep his composure.

Mandy had been sweetly naive.

Gillian on the other hand knew what the fuck she was doing.

And she was doing it well.

Too well.

When she pulled up his cock and started tonguing his sack he knew he had to stop her. He was milliseconds away from spurting into her face and God knew he wanted to come inside of her instead.

“Gill-Gillian. Sweetheart, you gotta stop.”

Gillian hummed and rolled her eyes up at him as she gave his balls one last swipe, “Eager to fuck me, are we?”

Dean nodded jerkily and finally pulled out the condom from his wallet. He had a moment of pure panic as he pictured himself fumbling with the slippery thing, struggling to put it on but it seemed it was for naught as Gillian plucked it out of his hand and quickly ripped open the package and rolled the condom on with a practiced hand.

The moment of truth was upon him and he half expected someone to start knocking at the window, stopping him from losing the virginity that he felt should have been left behind a hundred towns ago. (Life on the road, taking care of a sibling, didn’t really amount to a lot of personal time.)

Lucky for Dean, the only knocking that sounded was the rapid beat of his heart as Gillian tugged on his t-shirt and ripped it over his head. Oddly enough, she kept on her skirt, the only piece of her clothing left, before simply raising it up as she threw her leg over his lap and straddled him. Holding her skirt with one hand and grabbing his cock with the other she lined him up with her core and slowly slid him in inch by inch as she mewled at the stretch.

Dean’s eyes crossed as the searing heat enveloped his cock and it took everything in him not to come right then and there.

“Oh, fuck that’s good.” Gillian moaned as she bottomed out.

It was the most amazing feeling in the world and nothing in his life had ever topped this moment.

Or at least nothing had until Gillian started to move her hips and slid his cock in and out of her wet heat.

The sound that came out of Dean’s throat should have been embarrassing but it was quickly overshadowed by the high-pitched whines coming out of Gillian’s mouth.

Dean wished he could say he lasted a long time. That he was a stallion. But having your first wet pussy roughly pounding out on your virgin dick, didn’t exactly give a guy stamina.

Lucky for him, someone in heaven must have liked him, because Gillian was one hell of an orgasmic chick and came about two point five seconds before he raised his hips is abandon meeting her rough thrusts as he squeezed his eyes shut and came with a loud groan that paled in comparison to her screams.

Holy shit.

Dean came out of his stupor to Gillian placing warm wet kisses up and down the column of his throat, before she nipped at his ear and whispered, “Let’s do it again.”

When he was able to formulate sentences, he had to tell her that he only had the one condom. Luckily, Gillian was a paragon for safe sex and had condoms of her own in her purse.

They had stayed in that town for two weeks.

Dean had fucked Gillian left, right and sideways, every chance he got.

One time he had even had her in the diner’s kitchen after closing. Bending her over the stainless-steel countertop as she begged him to go harder and harder until he had exploded with a loud grunt that left him on shaky legs.

Another time, Gillian showed Dean just how dirty she really was as she begged him to come in her mouth and on her face so she could swallow and swipe up his extra essence with her fingertips before bringing it into the hot cavern of her mouth with a humm.

She had certainly taken his virginity with a bang.

And then he had to leave her.

It was somehow easier this time.

Gillian knew he was a drifter and expected nothing more from him than what he gave and when it was time to say goodbye, she looked him in the eye and told him, “See ya around, Winchester.”

~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dean was nineteen when an older woman taught him how to eat a girl out.

Chapter 3

@chook007 @scorpiongirl1

#spn #supernatural #supernaturalsmut #supernatural smut #dean winchester #dean #dean x reader #dean x ofc #first time #smut #thesex #sam winchester #young dean winchester #young dean

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hannah-deserved-better · 6 years ago

Text

Under the Prairie Moon: July rare-pair challenge

SPN Rare Ship CC: Round 20 | truthfulnomad vs. rodiniaorzetalthepenquin

Prompt: Stargazing

Ship: Castiel/Hannah

Word Count: 3311

Tags/Warnings: No warnings

Summary: Castiel and Hannah explore their senses under a night sky.

AO3 Link: optional/if applicable

Under the Prairie Moon

“Emotions, feelings… they are dangerous temptations.” Those words played over in Castiel’s head as he moved through the hallway of the Winchester’s bunker towards the kitchen where he thought he heard chatter. As he came into the doorway, he found Hannah talking to Sam standing over the coffee machine. The aroma of the coffee filled the air. They were both talking to one another, their attention on the coffee maker neither had noticed him yet. Castiel observed the scene before feeling a presence beside him. Glancing sideways, he saw Dean standing there dressed in his bathrobe, watching the scene as well. “Dean you should be resting,” Castiel pointed out, casting a look of concern Dean’s way. Dean hadn’t been human again for very long. Castiel and Hannah had arrived just in time to help cure him of being a demon. Tension still hung in the air, Dean still had the mark, and Castiel’s grace, though replenished by Adina, was still fading. But for now, for right now, they could all take a deep breath. “You and her have been traveling together all this time?” Dean asked, ignoring Castiel’s insistence on further rest as they watched Hannah and Sam interact. “How’s that been?” “Good,” Castiel replied. “We’ve been hunting rogue angels who have refused to return to heaven after the fall. They got a taste of freedom and are unwilling to give it up.” “Can’t say I blame them,” Dean said with a shrug. He studied the angel for a minute as Castiel kept his gaze on Hannah. A pause passed between them. “Cas… are you two… you know.” Castiel whirled quickly to meet Dean’s green eyes, startled at that blunt statement. “No,” he said quickly. Though, as he thought on it, he’d recalled the few moments between them. How she’d grabbed his arm, the despair in her eyes over his impending death. How he’d felt when Adina threatened Hannah’s life. “I told her that the mission was too important,” he said after a while. “That emotions are dangerous temptations. But… when I saw Adina holding a blade to Hannah’s neck… I felt…” “Yeah…” Dean sighed. He understood. “Look, man, I know you angels don’t really… get things sometimes. And I know there are a lot of things on all of our plates right now. But… and I don’t mean to go all Hallmark on you, I’d hate to see you overlook a good thing.” Castiel cocked his head, looking at Dean. He wasn’t sure he understood. Dean sighed and continued. “Look you two have been hanging around the bunker for a few days now. Sam and I have both noticed.” “Noticed what?” Castiel asked. He had an idea he knew what Dean meant, even if he tried not to see it himself. “Dude, you must be blind,” Dean replied. “Haven’t you noticed the way she looks at you? And it’s not just that crazy cultish way from before. And yeah, I know you know about as much as some 15-year-old prom date when it comes to this sort of thing, but I think you should take it seriously. Because you two could have something important here.” “How are feelings important?” Castiel asked. “I’m an angel, Dean.” “Yeah, I got that,” Dean shook his head. “Look, man, I gotta say I’m a little envious. You two have something going on that Sam and I have had very little of. And we’re human. I’m not even talking about a chance to get laid either, I’m talking about the real deal. Those kind of feelings are about as common as winning the lottery and you’d be a fool to pass that up.” Castiel sighed. He couldn’t deny that the experience over the past few days had been enjoyable. Maybe even more than enjoyable. The hours he’d spent talking to Hannah about humanity as they drove had meant more to him than he had realized. And it was all too clear to him how she felt. Though she had tried to deny it, she’d demonstrated multiple times how she felt. Pleading with him over his grace, even willing to go as far as to let Metatron out of prison. He never would have imagined that someone, another angel no less, would make that kind of effort for him. “How… do I proceed?” He asked after a time. Dean shrugged. “Leave that to me and Sammy,” Dean said, somewhat cryptically. With that, he strode into the kitchen, finally gaining the attention of its two occupants, who both looked in their direction. “Hey Sammy!” he said. “Get dressed, we need to go into town.” “Town?” Sam looked confused. “What for?” “Some things,” Dean said simply, grabbing Sam by the arm and hauling him away. Castiel approached Hannah who held a mug of coffee in both her hands. Her blue eyes scanned him as he came to stand in front of her. “Castiel,” she greeted as she inhaled the steam rising up from the coffee. “Sam Winchester was showing me how this device works. Coffee contains caffeine and I thought perhaps it would help you get your energy back.” Castiel had to smile at the subtle ways Hannah tried to care for him. He doubted that something as simple as caffeine would cure his fading grace, but he took the mug from her hands and took a sip, feeling touched. “Hannah,” he began, seriously, as he motioned for her to follow him as he moved to sit down at the table. She focused her attention on him as she sat down across the table, watching eagerly as he took another sip of coffee. “We should be heading out soon. Now that Dean is on the mend, we have to turn our attention to gathering all the rogue angels.” “I understand,” she said, her eyes never moving away from him. He locked eyes with hers, those large blue eyes of hers conveyed something he hadn’t considered before. Not just emotion- which for an angel was unique enough- but passion. Depth. “I’d like to know something before we go,” he continued. “What do you want?” She cocked her head in confusion. “Want?” she repeated as if he’d asked a very difficult question. And he knew he had. “I don’t understand. What do my wants have to do with this mission?” “Everything,” Castiel said quickly, then, leaning forward, “I appreciate your effort on this mission. I couldn’t have come this far without you. But I’m afraid I’ve neglected your wishes, so I’d like to know what they are.” She looked stunned. She blinked, glancing down at her hands as she seemed unsure of what she should say. “I want what you want,” she replied. Castiel sighed. How could he make her understand? It’s not as if he could blame her for her confusion. She was an angel, angels were hardwired to obey. The idea of having their own choices was foreign. He recalled how hard it was for him to learn how to think for himself when he first met Sam and Dean. He got up from his chair and moved around the table to sit down beside her. She swiveled in her seat to gaze up at him before he sat down and shifted to be eye level with her. “Hannah,” he began. “There are certain things to being on Earth that you should understand. Down here, it’s important to be able to think for yourself. Develop your own interests, tastes, and desires. Make your own choices. You don’t need me to tell you what to do.” “But we are angels, Castiel,” she pointed out. “Freedom is what breeds rogues like Daniel and Adina. I don’t want to be like them. I want to be an angel.” “I want to be an angel too,” Castiel agreed. “But I’ve learned that there is some flexibility, a common ground between their way and our way. Sometimes you have to understand that not everything is so clear-cut, especially down here on Earth. Not everything is about law and order. Sometimes we have to learn to make our own decisions. It was something I had to learn once.” “And how did you learn?” Hannah asked curiously. “How do I decide what I want? What if I decide wrong?” “I’m still learning,” Castiel responded. “And I agree it is a risk. My choices have cost me dearly in the past and I’ve made some mistakes that have hurt myself and those around me. But I think I’ve gained a lot as well. My friendship with Sam and Dean, I wouldn’t have had that if I didn’t learn to think for myself. I’m offering you the same thing.” He could almost see her mulling this over in her mind. He worried that he wouldn’t be able to get through to her. Maybe Dean was wrong about all of this, maybe there was no emotion at work here, maybe she was just an angel following another angel. But when she glanced back at him, she wore a pensive look on her face. Hesitantly, she reached her hand over and placed it over his on the table. He responded by taking her hand and placing it in between both of his. “I want you to live, Castiel,” she said. “You said emotions were dangerous, so I’ve tried to avoid them. But when I think of you’re fading grace, about how I might be forced to watch you deteriorate again and there is nothing I can do to stop it…” she suddenly turned her eyes away from him, glancing in the opposite direction so he couldn’t see her face. “We will cross that bridge when we come to it,” he offered. He knew the subject of his death had been a sensitive one between them and he hadn’t realized till then how he’d continued to ignore and brush off her feelings over it every time she brought it up. He felt a twinge of guilt over he hadn’t stopped to consider her in this at all before. “For now, I want to focus on you, Hannah.” “How do I do that?” she asked. She pressed the palm of her hand against her torso as if indicated something inside of her. “I have felt… things. Curiosities.” “I’ll show you,” Castiel offered. “But you have to be open to exploring new experiences. Can you?” She nodded. Castiel took in a breath, feeling somewhat satisfied. He’d taken the first step. Retracted what he’d said before and given her the permission she needed to explore herself. They would take the rest of the steps together. 00000 Dean hadn’t been lying when he said he and Sam had a plan. Later that evening, Castiel found himself hiking out across the prairie that surrounded the bunker, heading for a far-off hill. He carried a boom box, a picnic basket, and a few blankets. He glanced down at his attire. Sam and Dean had thought of everything, though Castiel failed to see the point of changing his clothes. He wore a pair of trousers, a simple white shirt, and a blazer. Glancing over at Hannah, he admired her change of clothing. She wore a long flowing bright blue floral maxi dress and carried a large bouquet of lavender sprays. The way the dress flowed behind her in the wind, along with her dark chestnut hair dancing around her head made her seem almost fantasy like. Castiel had to admire her beauty, her gracefulness. She was like a fairy moving effortlessly through the grass. Of course, being an angel, Castiel could see more of her than just her vessel. He saw the beautiful white creamy wings with golden yellow tips. He’d seen them all along, though they were invisible to humans. They were a sharp contrast to his ebony black wings. “What did they call this?” Hannah asked as she glanced at him. She frowned when she caught his eyes lingering over her form. “Am I wearing this garment wrong?” she asked with concern. “Sam Winchester told me to wear it.” “No,” he assured her, clearing his throat, feeling embarrassed that he’d been caught staring. “I like it. It’s… flattering.” He stumbled over his words, but he hoped he put her mind at ease. Blushing, he turned his attention to the prairie ahead of them. “This is a picnic,” he explained. “It’s a ritual that humans often engage in.” He stopped when he finally made it to the top of the hill. From this vantage, they could see far off in the distance as the prairie seemed to stretch on all around them. Hannah gazed down at the farms and small communities dotting the landscape below. As Castiel spread out a blanket and knelt down to set his items on it, he watched her reaction carefully. She looked astonished by the spectacular sight, though he noted a hint of confusion in her eyes. “Humans alter the landscape,” Hannah commented as Castiel stood and moved to her side. “They put up fences and barriers that block animals from coming and going as they please.” “It’s their nature,” Castiel offered. “Humans like to hoard their possessions, even the land. It’s unfortunate, I agree.” “There’s no need for fences, borders, or walls,” Hannah responded. “If humans allowed one another the freedom to come and go as they pleased, perhaps it would be better for them. Why create countries and kingdoms when they are all just humans in the end?” “That’s a complicated question,” Castiel admitted. “I’m not sure I have a good answer. Humans are driven to hoard resources and compete with one another. There is much I admire about them, but there is much more that is very flawed. Humans can be violent, greedy, bigoted, and many are quite dangerous. But others can be kind, selfless, brave, and valiant. And let's not forget that we angels are not without our flaws.” He motioned for her to sit down on the blanket as he did so as well. He opened the basket and laid out all its contents. A bottle of wine, cheddar cheese, bleu cheese, coppa salami, beef jerky, crackers and vinegar spread, horseradish, olives, smoked salmon, and some brownies. Hannah gazed over the food with fascination. “We are here to explore our senses,” Castiel explained. “Sight, sound, smell, taste, and touch. Humans can derive great pleasure out of these sensations, and I want you to learn about the things you find appealing.” Hannah surveyed all the food items set out before her while Castiel turned on the boom box which started playing soothing piano music. Castiel watched Hannah’s reaction carefully as she listened. “I like this sound,” she said as she gazed out over the prairie. “And the sounds around us.” Castiel listened up as well. The day’s symphony of birds chirping in the thick grass, of thrushes and pheasants calling to one another across the vast seas of golden yellow, were being replaced by crickets chirping, frogs croaking, and owls hooting. That mixed with the piano music made for a pleasant melody. Castiel turned his attention to the food. He was unfamiliar with much of it and he wanted Hannah to have a good first experience with eating so he had to select something carefully. Making his decision, he grabbed the brownie and handed it to her. “Many humans are fond of sweets and of chocolate in particular,” he explained as she took it from his hand and examined it cautiously. For a moment it looked like she was going to back out, she seemed hesitant, almost disgusted with the prospect of eating. “Try it,” he urged gently. Finally, she took a small bite, chewing thoughtfully, before her eyes lit up in excitement. “I had no idea!” she exclaimed triumphantly, a bright smile crossing her face. Castiel let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, and couldn’t help but smile as well, her excitement was contagious. “Chocolate. It’s so… stimulating!” She eagerly finished the entire brownie, and he frowned a little, realizing he wasn’t going to get any of it. Her eyes scanned the rest of the items spread out before her and one by one, encouraged by the success of the brownie, she and Castiel tried each one. Not all of the food items were successful, the horseradish and the vinegar spread caused a rather violent response, and Castiel frowned as Hannah gagged, spitting them both out into the grass. Castiel turned to the wine. Hannah started a little when he popped the bottle opened and poured each of them a glass. He handed Hannah one as they both leaned back on their sides, beside each other. Hannah sipped her wine and peered across the small space between them, her eyes sparkled in the brilliant orange of the sunset. “What comes next?” she asked. Her mood had lightened considerably, there was a lightheartedness, almost playful way that the wind rustled her hair as the dark trusses danced about her face. “We watch the stars,” he explained. They finished their wine and Castiel, feeling a chilly breeze between them, retrieved the other blanket and draped it over Hannah as she shifted to a laying position in the grass and stared up at the sky. He watched her for a moment, her eyes wide with wonder. Satisfied with what he saw in her eyes, he settled down beside her, his body beside hers, as he focused on the sky. Powdery white clouds passed overhead, illuminated in shades of purples, oranges, and yellows as the sun cast it’s last light on them. The moon took its place, a massive round full moon, glowing at them as the sky darkened and one by one, billions and billions of stars began to fill the sky. “They’re so endless,” Hannah commented from beside him, her voice soft and expressive. “I could never tire of them. They were the one thing that got me through…” Castiel moved his head to glance at her. The faraway look in her eyes told him she was recalling something. But before she could continue, she suddenly let out a gasp. Castiel turned his gaze and saw a meteor shoot across the sky. Then another. Soon, dozens and dozens started raining from the sky. The meteor shower had begun, but it wasn’t having the intended effect. Hannah tensed noticeably beside him as she shot up to a sitting position. “No!” She exclaimed emotionally. “The angels!” She visibly shook, gripping her head in between her hands as if trying to physically push the image out of her mind. “No, it’s not,” Castiel assured her as he sat up to face her, wincing at the fear he saw in her eyes. “They’re just meteors. Pieces of rock. It’s not an angel fall. I-” without warning, she surged forward, her head collided against the top of his chest. Her body quivered and he, surprised by the sudden embrace, pulled her in. “Oh Hannah,” he said, his breath rustling her hair as he pressed his head against the top of her neck, bundling her tightly between himself and the blanket she had wrapped around her. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized.” The angel fall, which Hannah had been a victim of, had been very traumatic, and although he hadn’t been part of it, he could only have imagined the terror, the confusion. After a moment of shaking, Hannah composed herself and sat upright, her eyes rising up to meet his, glistening with emotion. “It was terrifying,” she admitted. “To be alone in this strange land. So alone, Castiel. And all I wanted to do was go home.” “I’m sorry,” he offered, feeling that all too familiar twinge of guilt. “For my part in your horror.” Hannah regarded him for a moment, saying nothing, just looking. And Castiel looked right back, searching the depth of emotion in those big, soulful eyes.

The fear slowly faded from her face to be replaced with something else. Something more sensual. She shifted, inching closer, so close to him, so close he could feel the heat of desire coming off of her. Her eyes glistened in sultry passion, becking him silently. He leaned into her, pressing his lips to hers gently, closing his eyes, savoring the sensation. She leaned into him, and he lowered himself back to the grass, pulling her down with him, never breaking the kiss. The moment between them was sweet but powerful. When she pulled back, only to shift back down to the ground, he responded by pulling her against him, and she returned the kiss greedily and without abandon. That was how two angels fell in love, stargazing under the prairie sky.

#spnrareshipcc #castiel/hannah #rodiniaorzetalthepenquin #Round 20 #Prompt: Stargazing

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a-jynx · 7 years ago

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The Winding Road - Part 1: Wolf Among Us

Previous Parts: Prologue,

Summary: You’ve known them for years, at least you thought you did. The Winchesters. You’ve been told stories about them your entire life, but you especially loved it when they told you of their own adventures…

So what happens when you hear a rumor that might not be all fairy tale after-all..? How will you and the boys survive the onslaught that is bestowed upon you in this winding storm..?

Pairings: Beast!Sam x reader, or Y/N Turner (Rufus Turner’s daughter), Beast!Dean x platonic!reader

Warnings: Fluffy? This is just a talk about the relationships between people and the reader, so nothing yet! (besides foreshadowing...)

Notes: Okay, so, all of my other ideas have flopped for new series, BUT, I have this one idea I like and I haven’t ran anything by anyone, sooooo, if it’s not good we’ll see!

Series Tags: (people who showed interest): @mastersbunny, @alinahearts13, @supermoose67, @dearhamilchill-221b, @tessellaneous, @redmoon261, @nicorobinechelonwinchester, (if you’d like to be added/removed, just let me know!)

Forever In Tags: @waywardnewcomer, @natashacamillaus, @mogarukes, @casiskween, @iliketowrite02

Enjoy! Feedback is appreciated!

2 Years Earlier

Who would’ve thought that this is where three-in-a-half years of college would lead me… Working the front desk at my father’s best friend’s oil and car shop; how insulting..

“Hey, sweetheart!” I looked up from the mountains of paper work that littered the desk – some being bills, some being orders for parts that should’ve been sent out weeks ago, and some just little doodles that I would do thanks to hours of boredom.

“Dean! God, I thought you weren’t coming in today.” I laughed whilst shaking my head as the elder Winchester chuckled, punching in his ticket before moving closer to the counter, setting a small bag on it with a large grin that reminded me a of five-year-old.

“What’s this?”

“Open it.”

He nodded towards the bag, which made me shoot up both of my brows only for me to scoff and lean forward on my elbows, studying before looking back up towards the man with marvelous green eyes.

“Um, yeah, thanks, but I’d rather keep myself glitter bomb free today, if you don’t mind.” I bit as I went to lean back, only for him to catch my elbow and nod back towards the small paper sack once again as he shook his head.

“I promise you on my own grave that it’s not going to be like last month-“

“Don’t you mean last week?” I scoffed as he frowned, furrowing his brows as he rolled his eyes and nodded his head side-to-side, reconsidering it before waving me off. “Would you just open the damn thing?” He sighed releasing my arm as I frowned some, reaching out and grabbing onto the bag as I slowly peeled open the top; gently shaking it as I turned it sideways onto the counter.

A teacup size platter slid from it’s paper sack confinements. Furrowing my brows, I glanced up at Dean as he nodded towards the plate making me scrunch my nose up as I gripped onto the cloudy saran wrap that covered it.

Finally peeling away the coverage, I couldn’t help but gasp as there sat a freshly baked apple pie slice, steam still rising from it as I looked back up at Dean, who couldn’t help but grin like he was a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Did you make this?” I gasped in slight shock – if there’s one thing I know about Dean Winchester it’s he never, and I mean, never shares his pie with anyone, so this was new.

“No, my mom did… She made it this morning for Sammy and I.” Dean grinned as I smiled happily before I pushed away from the counter, rushing over towards the small coffee area and grabbed two plastic forks, rushing back over to the counter and sitting on the stool.

“Here – we can share it.” I grinned as Dean reached out, grabbing the second fork as I grinned and dug into the warm, gooey apple pie. I couldn’t help but to allow a small groan to escape my lips as I shot my eyes up to see Dean chuckling before he took a large bite of the pie.

“God, if I ever meet a woman like you, I must’ve died and gone to heaven!” Dean laughed while taking another bite as I grinned, chewing on the sweet and slightly tangy bite as the bell rang from the front; signaling someone had come inside.

“Here, you go finish this – I gotta work.” I shooed him away, as he groaned and grabbed hold of the plate as he dug his fork back into the warm goo, grinning like a child again as he waved me off before he took off towards the garage as I rolled my eyes, watching as he pushed open the glass door; waving to me as he disappeared.

“Weirdo.” I breathed as I shook my head, grinning as I glanced up to say the usual welcome; only this time… My voice caught in my throat. I’ve known him since I was five, and somehow he’s grown into this… Man. A very handsome man.

“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in,” a voice chimed from the garage as I snapped my head towards it. Bobby Singer, the man who was like family to everyone here in town, came in with a large grin and a oiled up rag as he moved forward, wrapping his arms around the building of a man.

“Hey, Bobby, good to see you again,” Sam’s voice came out smooth, yet it still had a bit of a rough edge to it that made it oh, so delicious… God, this man is going to be the death of me; especially with that voice and smile.

“It’s good to see you too, boy. What brings you to the shop anyway? Shouldn’t you be at home studying up to head off to that fancy college of yours?” Bobby grinned as he patted Sam’s shoulder, giving it a good squeeze as Sam shook his head, bangs falling into his eyes as he laughed with a dimply smile.

“Stanford, you mean. And yeah, just taking a break before my eyes fall out of my head,” he paused as his eyes slowly glanced over towards me; the corner of his lips twitching upwards as our eyes met as I pursed my lips together while biting my lower one slowly as I met the bright eyes that seemed to always sparkle – even in the harder times.

“Plus, I just wanted to stop by and say hi to a few friends..” He whispered as his eyes lingered on my own, this causing Bobby to slowly turn his head and meet my foolishly grinning face as he chuckled, nodding as he moved back towards the garage.

“Ah, I see.. Well, don’t let me be the one to stop you from saying hi.” He smiled as he waved towards Sam, moving back into the garage, only for his voice to carry back out as he yelled to Dean, “Dean! If you got even a drop of that apple pie goo on my tools, you’re as good as dead!”

I couldn’t help but giggle as Sam moved closer, shaking his head as he chuckled making me return my attention to him as he stopped in front of the desk.

�� “How you doing stranger?” I grinned as he cocked a brow, fighting off a grin as he leaned against the counter.

“Not bad, how about you stranger?”

I shook my head as I rolled my e/c eyes before leaning forward, resting on my elbows as I looked up at him as he leaned down to where he stood just a little bit above me while I fought back my smile.

“Oh, please, I practically live at your house,” I bit as he scoffed with a laugh before coming around the counter, making me follow him with the turn of the stool as he stopped in front of me and developed me in a bone crushing hug, yet I returned the favor.

“Sure, you do, Y/N.. Sure, you do.” Sam laughed as he took a step back yet he kept his arms around my waist loosely as I stared up at him, his eyes seemed to hold the truth behind everything, and somehow he kept secrets all too well.

“Don’t be a dick – hey, my shift ends in about say.. Ten minutes? Wanna hit the bar, or café with me?” I bit my lip as he chuckled with a smile, giving my waist a squeeze with both of his large hands as my smile grew easily.

“That sounds like an amazing idea – better yet I’ll pay.”

“Like hell you will, Winchester,” I spat as I brought one of my hands up, smacking it against his chest as he chuckled pulling away. Rounding the counter again, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to my forehead as I closed my eyes and embraced his sweet, chaste kiss.

“I need to stop by my house for a quick thing, then I’ll be back in time for us, okay?’ He smiled as his hand landed on my cheek, his thumb dragging easily across my skin as I parted my lips and exhaled slightly before opening my eyes and nodding.

“Pinky promise..?” I whispered as he grinned the childish grin he’s had since we were kids, as he took away his warm palm and held out his long, slender pinky while I wrapped my own tiny, slender pinky around his.

“Pinky promise.” He grinned as he pulled away making his way back out the shop as I watched him take off towards his car, I couldn’t help it but to smile at the child of a man. And God save me from falling in love with him anymore than I already am…

Being so lost in thought – or just from watching that man’s backside, I didn’t hear the bell go off before the deep voice that used to calm me from having mental breakdowns during finals week in high school called out.

“You know, baby girl, you’re falling for a wolf..” My father, Rufus Turner, spat as I snapped from my daze, turning towards him with a sigh as I fought back the intent to roll my eyes at him. Hoping down from the stool, I moved towards him as he leaned against the door way, watching as Sam’s car pulled out and onto the street.

“Daddy, please, Sam is a respectable man – and he’s kind, sweet, and wouldn’t do anything to put me in harms way – so why can’t you trust him?” I sighed as I crossed my arms over my chest, frowning at my father as his dark eyes finally moved to where they settled on me.

“I’m just warning you.. No funny business with him, or any Winchester for that matter. Ain’t go good going to come from that family,”

“Daddy, please! They are good people – especially to us.” I warned with a small bite as he sighed and shook his head; of course, it was already filled with conspiracy theories he’s already cooked up about the Winchester family…

“I don’t know why I have such a bad feeling about them, but I want you to have no kind of… Cute, romantic, or even friendly relationship with those boys. Stick to platonic, or professional – nothing else, you hear me?” He warned with a wag of his finger as I huffed and turned on my heel, returning to the stool as he turned to leave but not before muttering to himself, or to me.

“We’ve got a wolf among us, and I’m not about to let you be thrown to him.”

And with that… My father left. Leaving me to wonder what the hell he was going on about some “wolf,” now only if I had listened to him…

#new series #tags are open #sam x reader #Beast!Sam x reader #Beast!Dean x platonic!reader #Y/N Turner #Rufus Turner's daughter #supernatural #supernatural family #supernatural fandom #supernatural fanfiction #cant wait to see where this series goes #hope you guys enjoy #winchester family x turner family #somewhat family rivalry #enjoy!

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winchestersgirl-67 · 7 years ago

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Word’s Hurt- Katie’s 1 year celebration

Prompt “I can’t take it back, I wish I could but I can’t” for @winchesters-favorite-girl 1 year celebration

2100 words

Characters- Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, sister reader

Warnings- Slight language, dean being a dick, car accident, character death, angst

This wasn’t the first time this had happened to Dean. The whole thing was giving him deja vu. You were doing the same thing Sammy had done years ago. You were leaving.

Ever since you moved into the bunker you became much more focused on school. Now that you had a place to settle down, and you weren’t moving schools every other week it was easy to quickly raise all your grades. You learned to love school, and before you knew it you somehow had decided you wanted to go to college.

You weren’t really sure what you wanted to study yet, you thought maybe history would be good. It always had been your favorite subject. You also knew what you studied wouldn’t matter, going to school would give you a whole new view on life. Something you’d never have the chance to experience if you stayed with Sam and Dean in the family business.

You also knew when Sam tried to do the same thing it backfired, but knowing that you hoped he’d be supportive. And he was.

“Sam, can we talk.” You quietly walked into your brother's room, Dean wasn’t home so you knew you had to talk to him now.

“Yeah bug, what's up?” He patted the bed, putting his lore book down and calling you over. You crossed the room and sat softly on the edge of his bed as he sat up to meet you. Than you took a deep breath before speaking up.

“Sammy, I want to go to College, I talked some people at school. They said my grades were good enough to get me full ride scholarships to Kansas State University. So i’d be really close to the bunker, but I’m worried.” It was the truth you knew Sam would be all for the idea of you bettering your education, but Dean was a different story.

“You’re worried about Dean, aren’t you?” He asked, but he knew the answer, you and Dean were so close. He really did raise you like he did with Sam, but the bound you to had was so strong. “Yeah, I am. I Can’t lose him Sammy, but I really want this.” A few tears fell as you spoke but Sam quickly wiped them away.

“Hey, don’t cry. Dean loves you, he will always love you. He might be mad, or upset when you tell him, but he’ll still love you. I know it.” You just nodded muttering a thank you to Sam before leaving the room, you had to figure out what you were going to say to Dean.

After thinking about it for a while you had decided not to tell Dean until you were sure you had been accepted and all the scholarship money had come through. That was in September of your senior year. In May of your senior year you got a letter in the mail from KSU. You had been accepted on a full scholarship, now all you needed to do was talk to your brother.

You waited until dinner that night, which you had made. You also baked a pie for after you shared your news. You were hoping the pie could be used to celebrate.

“Y/n, this is delicious. I Had no clue you were such a good cook, you’ve gotta do this more often.” Dean was in heaven over his diner, this was the perfect time. “Hey Dean, I’ve got some good news.” You knew you had to take in slow, work up to the big drop.

“Whats up kid.” He took a break from shoveling food down his throat to look up at you. “Okay, well.” You looked at Sam quickly, he just gave you a reassuring smile. You had told him the news earlier.

“Today I got a letter in the mail. From Kansas State University, I’ve been accepted into their history program on a full scholarship. And I’m going to take it.” Dean did a double take first looking at you than at Sam than back to you.

“You’re not serious are you, This is a joke right.” Your heart dropped, he wasn’t happy for you. “No Dean it’s not a joke. I’m really going. I leave at the end of June.” Now you were praying to every god you could think of that he would understand.

“Damnit! How is this happening again?” Dean yelled and flipped his plate over shattering the glass on the table causing you to flinch slightly.

“Dean-” Sam tried to calm him down, but you both knew it was useless.

“Don’t ‘Dean’ me Sammy, we both know damn well she got this idea from you. I thought seeing how much it backfired for you would have knocked some damn sense into her. Guess I was wrong.” he scoffed turning away.

“Dean this is different. I’m going to KSU, it's an hour and twenty minutes away from the bunker. I Can come over on every holiday and long weekends, and if there's a big hunt, or you need me. I'm close. I’m gonna call you all the time.”

“Y/n stop.” You were cut off. “Don’t bullshit me, You're gonna be just like Sammy,and that sucks.Something terrible's gonna happen to you, because you're a Winchester and that's how it goes. Maybe you’ll get dragged to hell, or watch the person you love burn up on the ceiling, and I’m not gonna be there to save your ass. Just remember that when you're packing up to leave the safest place on earth. Remember how stupid you are. How dumb and childish this is. Then you can call me.” After he said that he stomped out, the last thing you heard was baby’s engine starting up and speeding out.

That was five weeks ago, Dean’s hardly spoken to you since. You’d hoped that the whole thing would blow over in a few days like most things did with Dean, but this didn’t. You’d hoped you would have some quality time with your big brother before you went off, but today was the day you were heading out.

Your thing were already loaded into the bunker car you had claimed as your own, and you had said your goodbyes to Sam. All that was left to do was talk to Dean.

You slowly approached Dean, it was barely 2 pm but he had already finished over half a bottle of whiskey. “Dean, it's time for me to go. I wanted to say goodbye before I left. I don’t know when i’ll be back to visit, but I promised Sam I’d call him as soon as I got to campus.” You spoke optimistically, but Dean said nothing. ‘Dean…?” You called his name again, you need to talk to him one last time before you left.

“Damnit y/n, can you not tell I don’t want to talk to you. You clearly don’t want to be part of this family, so you're running away just like Sam did. You knew what him leaving did to me and here you are doing the same damn thing. I don’t want to talk, or call you, or come visit. I want you to get the hell out. And don’t come back until you're ready to be a Winchester.” And he slammed his drink on the desk and walked away

You were so upset when you left the bunker, Dean wasn’t angry with you he was hut by you. You felt so bad you wanted to call off the whole thing, keep hunting and stay in the bunker. Sam convinced you to go, he said you would hate yourself for staying, you told him Dean would hate you for leaving. You decided you had to go, you made a commitment. If you hated it next semester, you would drop out and things could be normal again.

Even though you knew this was the best call the trip of the bunker to school was hard. You were sad and distracted. So distracted that you didn’t notice the massive pick-up truck swerving into your lane. Not until it was too late. The last thing you saw was the flash of headlights through your windshield, and the shattering glass.

It took almost 30 minutes for someone to find the crash on the back roads, and another 15 for the paramedics to arrive. When they arrived the man driving the pick-up truck was in pretty rough shape, the rushed him onto the first ambulance before they could even find you. When they did it was too late. You were already gone, DOA.

Once your body was safely at the hospital a doctor called your time of death. 4:28 pm. At 4:32 pm the morgue showed up to take your body. At 4:35 Sam’s phone rang.

“Oh thank god y/n, I thought you would never call. How was the ride?” Sam was anxious to hear your voice you should have called over an hour ago. Little did he know his world was about to end. “Is, this Sam Winchester?” Sam’s breath almost stopped at the sound of a man’s voice on the other line.

“Yes it is, who is this. Where's my little sister?”

“I’m Dr. Evan Teeds. I’ve got some bad news….”

When Sam got off the phone he took a second to think about what he had just heard. How could his little sister be dead. He hadn't realized the tears falling down his face until Dean entered the room and asked about them.

“Dean, um-” Sam took a second to compose himself. “You should probably sit down.” Sam didn’t know how he was going to be able to look his older brother in the face and tell him their baby sister was dead. How could he look at the person who had raised both of them and tell him that their sister was hit by a truck.

“Sam, cut the shit tell me what’s wrong. All the crap we’ve seen you think I still need to sit down for bad news.”

“Dean, y/n was in a car accident.” Dean had been through this before, his dad died, bobby died, ellen and Jo, kevin and charlie. Hell, even his brother had died, in all the deaths he had witnessed, he never thought his baby sisters would be one of them.

He was silent for a moment, they both were. Dean replayed what Sam had just said over and over again, he never said she died. Maybe the accident wasn’t that bad, just a little fender bender. But he knew that wasn’t the case. If y/n were okay, Sam wouldn’t be crying, and if y/n were alive, he would have been rushing to the hospital by now. Even though he knew Dean still couldn’t believe it, not until he heard it.

“Is she-” He wanted to ask, but he couldn’t, he couldn’t say the words out loud. Neither could Sam, that both knew what had happened to you, but neither one could bear to say it. You were gone, and they had to live with it.

2 days later the boys had a hunter's funeral for you. Jody and Donna came with Alex and Claire, a few other hunters showed up. But it was mostly just family.

Dean held it together as they all stood around your burning body, he needed to be there for you, like he should have been all the weeks since you told him. That’s when he remembered the last time the two of you spoke. He recalled all the horrible things he said, the things he was going to apologise for but would never have the chance to.

A few hours later, Sam found him on your bedroom floor, he had a nearly empty bottle of whiskey on the floor next to him and pictures of the three of you in his hands. When he heard Sam enter the room, he looked up and it was clear he had been crying.

“Dean, can I do anything.” Sam knew nothing could make this better, because he felt the same way. But Dean has always been there to pick Sam up, so he needed to return the favor.

“No, unless you could bring her back. Or at least tell her how sorry I am. If you can’t do that then you can’t help me Sammy. You know that.”

“Dean, y/n knows you’re sorry.” Since she died Sam hadden’t thought about the fight she had with Dean.

“No she doesn't Sam, because she died. y/n is dead and I can’t apologize, I can’t undo what I did. I can’t take it back. I wish I could, but I can’t” Dean was breaking inside, the thought of you dying and him not being able to make things right with you was killing him.

Sam was right though, you knew how Dean felt, and you knew how sorry he was. Dean was your big brother, and as you sat in heaven with all of your other fallen friends and family you watched him. And you wished you could go see him, just to tell him you forgive him. One last time.

tags

Everything @percussiongirl2017 @jensen-jarpad @bluecookiesandbooks @staticweekes

#spn #supernatural #sister reader #dean winchester #sam winchester #1 year celebration #winchesters-favorite-girl #sisfic #winsister #angst #character death #car accident #car crash

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plaidstiel-wormstache · 7 years ago

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Turns of Fate

This one is for @whispersandwhiskerburn‘s 2k Challenge. I’m sorry it took me so bloody long, and I’m sorry you had to work the lyrics in. I wouldn’t be able to write creatively if I didn’t know you were there to help me. Thank you dearest Beta, you are heaven on earth to work with.

Quote: If you could go back and do it over again, would you? (in bold) Song: Little Wonders by Rob Thomas (in bold) Warnings: angst, smidge of fluff, supernatural violence, mentions of family distress Word Count: 2,844 Author’s Note: Italics are flashbacks. Feedback makes the world go round, so help this little lady’s day by leaving a reply, reblogging with a gif or even a full blow comment! Let me know if you loved it or hated it. Please?

“If you could go back and do it all over again, would you?” It was such a simple question, and it had such a simple answer. Yes. But … I didn't like dying. I didn't like having to leave my boys and sister. I wanted to live the rest of my life with Dean Winchester. I wanted to one day call Sam my brother-in-law. I wanted to have little Winchesters and grow old. I wanted to die knowing that Dean wanted all that too.

I placed the opened beers in front of the boys and took my seat across the table from them. Dean picked up his and took a swig, the action so familiar that he barely paused his argument. “No, I'm offering myself and you can’t stop me.” Sam opened his mouth to protest, “Sam, I’m not letting you go through that. If someone's going face to face with a hound, it's gonna be me.” Dean finished, silencing Sam with the squeal of his chair legs across the concrete. Gripping his beer, he stalked out of the room. Sam picked up his and pretty much finished it in one large gulp.

“I gotta tell you guys something, and you’re not gonna like it.” I’d started, Dean’s shoulders visibly sagged and Sam took a step forwards, his eyes roaming over me, thinking it was something physically wrong. I gestured at the table in the war room and we all sat, the boys across from me. “You’ve got our attention.” Dean broke the silence making me look up from my hands, where I was studying the small scar along the back. “Years ago, before I met you two, something happened and…” I was there again, struggling to breathe in the family room of the hospital. My sister lying on a bed in a coma, no promise of ever coming out of it. She was all I had left and the Doctor’s were telling me there was nothing they could do, I had to pull the plug, “it was the kindest thing”. I shook my head, trying to clear the past from my mind. “Y/N?” Sam questioned, pulling me back to the present. I took a deep breath and continued. “I made a deal, and I’ve got a week left.” It took a moment, but their reactions were predictable: Dean flew off the handle, and Sam’s head collapsed into his hands. “You what?! Why wouldn’t you tell us before? We can get you out of this. You’re not dying for a stupid deal.” Dean had pulled out his phone and had started flicking through contacts. I struggled to keep my voice level, trying to remember why I decided to tell them finally. “It wasn’t a stupid deal, Dean. Don’t you think I knew what I was signing on for?” “Why?” Sam’s question was quiet and almost went unnoticed between the older Winchester’s raised voice and mine. “Why what?” Dean snapped at his younger brother while holding the phone to his ear, standing and pacing. “Why did you make the deal, YN?” He had asked. I gritted my teeth, my nostrils flaring as I took a steadying breath. “My parents and sister were in a car crash. They died immediately, but she managed to survive. And for a day it looked like she got away with a few broken bones. Then they discovered she had a bleed in her brain and…” I swallowed around the thick ball of emotions that seemed to have attached itself to my tonsils, wiping viciously at the tears that threatened to fall. “She slipped into a coma. They operated, but she never woke up. They were telling me to pull the plug. I had to get her back. I couldn’t lose her too.” I studied the scar on the back of my hand again, avoiding the heavy gaze of Sam Winchester, listening as Dean sprang into action. “Crowley, get your ass here now. The Bunker.” Dean demanded into the phone then hung up. “I’m the King of Hell, you can’t just order me about.” Crowley’s quiet voice was sarcastic and angry after suddenly appearing at the foot of the table. “Why didn’t you tell us?” Dean spat. “It can’t ever just be for a good time.” The king muttered, and Dean began to vibrate with anger. “Fine. I didn’t tell you because it wasn’t your business. I don’t kiss and tell.” He explained, winking at me, receiving a sneer in return. “You need to cancel the deal with Y/N.” Dean ground out between clenched teeth. “No can do.” Crowley sat down at the head of the table, pulling his overcoat out from underneath him, getting comfortable as Dean clearly became more agitated. “Why not?” Dean argued. “I’ve got a reputation to uphold, a business to run, and I’m owed a soul. I kept my part of the bargain.” Crowley was beginning to get bored; he was clearly over this visit already. “A soul? Any soul?” Sam asked, finally looking away from me to turn his attention to the demon. Both Dean and I cottoned on to his way of thinking quickly. “No, Sam, you’re not sacrificing yourself-” I started. “Doesn’t have to be YN’s soul?” Dean questioned, following Sam’s train of thought. “One soul to fulfill the deal.” Crowley said before vanishing. And with that, the debate had started.

They’d been trying to hash it out for hours. How did they get me out of my deal? Dean planned to sacrifice himself, and if I knew the boys at all, Sam would try and beat him to it. Well those boys needed each other. I'd lost my family years back and come to terms with my deal. There was no way I was going to stand by and let one of the brothers take the heat for me. They had each other--they needed each other. “Here.” I said, passing Sam my half empty beer as I stood up. He raised his eyebrows and I nodded, I didn't want to finish it. I couldn't. I watched as Sam finished it in two large gulps. “We’re not letting him do this, YNN, don't worry. Dean’s not going anywhere.” Sam misread my staring as concern, but I was simply waiting. Sam stood and I met him at the head of the table, hugging him tightly as he wrapped his arms around me. He began to sag, he was damned heavy, but I held up his weight. “Whass happenenn…” Sam slurred, his arms dropping from my back and hanging at his sides. “Easy there,” I whispered, helping him as his legs collapsed from under him. I tried my best to lay him down slowly and without hurting him. “YNN, wha haff you…” I rested his head on the concrete and shed my hoodie, bundling it and placing it under his heavy head. “It’ll be alright, Sammy. Dean’s not going anywhere.” I repeated his words back to him. I saw his brain working and then the realization, his eyes tried to go wide as his lids sagged and finally closed. He’d managed to grip my hand on his way down and it was still firm. I squeezed his hand and leant forward, kissing his forehead, before prying his fingers open and releasing myself.

...

“Dean?” I whispered into the dark room. “Yeah, YN?” Dean responded, I was surprised to find him still awake, but I hadn't really been sure of the amounts to give. How much would take down a Winchester? I’d given Sam the extra in my bottle, just because he was such a moose, but Dean… “Can I come in?” I asked, opening the door further to see him lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “Of course, I wanted to talk to you.” He added while pushing himself up. He looked tired, maybe the drug was slowly taking hold. “Oh?” I moved into the room and sat on the end of the bed, opposite the man I secretly loved. “Yeah.” He swallowed thickly and tried to raise a hand but thought better of it and placed it back under his tipping weight. “I wanted to say I'm sorry.” He said, his words were coming out heavier than they usually did when he drank. It was definitely the drug, and I was kicking myself that it wouldn't just give us five more minutes. “Sorry for what?” Dean needed to stop being cryptic--our time was quickly running out. “Sorry that I’ve never told you…” Dean took a deep breath and held out his hand to me. I took it willingly, but before I could question him he pulled me toward him. I landed on his chest and we both tipped back, his head almost bouncing as it landed on the pillow, my own quite near his. “YNN…” Dean slurred, his eyes were staring at my lips, half hooded and not quite focused. I closed the distance and kissed him. Just a peck before I pulled back and looked at him. He was still for a moment, I began to think it wasn’t what he wanted at all, but then he leaned forward and his lips were on mine once again. Our mouths fitted together like they'd found home; I ran my tongue along his bottom lip and his crept out to meet mine. They twirled and teased for half a second before his grew heavy and turned into just a wet muscle intruding in my space. I pulled back and planted a kiss to his slowly closing mouth. He was out. “I love you, Dean Winchester.” I whispered close to his ear before pressing my lips against his once more. I pulled together all my strength and willed myself out Dean’s door. I grabbed my keys and tugged on my jacket as I climbed the steel steps to the main door of the bunker. I looked around the place I called home and patted the wall as I pushed the door open, knowing all of my regret would wash away somehow, and that the hardest part was over. But as that metal door locked shut behind me, I also knew that I could not forget the way I felt right now.

...

I stuck the keys in the ignition of the beat up buggy and stuttered it to life. The radio blared from the last time I had been driving, scaring the living daylights outta me. But as I turned it down, I caught the lyrics of a song long forgotten. The tune was so appropriate, I had to laugh. Our lives are made, in these small hours. These little wonders, these twists and turns of fate. Time falls away, but these small hours still remain. Very few hours, small or otherwise, remained for me. I drove the length of the dirt road to where it intersected the small farm lane. I pulled over to the side of the road and took the trowel from the trunk, tucking the small metal box under my arm. I dropped to my knees in the middle of the cross roads and pushed the spade into the dirt. “Don't dirty yourself, love.” Crowley growled above me. I looked up at the man in the black coat and put the box down, dropping the trowel and pushing myself to standing. “How'd you know?” I asked, making sure there was a safe distance between us. “Let's just say it was a slow night.” He winked, making me feel uneasy. I looked him over, sniffing once and then dusting my hands on my jeans. “I wanna change our deal.” I said. “Really? I thought this was a dinner date.” His tone dripped sarcasm and I had to take a deep breath to steady my anger. “Come on, darling. Begging isn’t attractive on you, and we both already know you have no hand to play.” “I want you to sic the hound on me. Sooner rather than later.” There it was, out in the open. “And why would I do that?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest, the padded shoulders of his coat raising level to his chin. I had thought on that question, and I had several arguments in place: we both knew it was a never ending battle if one of the boys took my place, we both knew the angels were invested in the Winchesters and they’d wage war again to get them out, and we both knew he wanted them alive and saving the world so he could keep making his deals. “Because if it goes down any other way, I’ll devote the rest of my life to destroying you. And you’ve seen me in action.” The King of Hell weighed that for a moment, his teeth grinding, his jaw muscles rippling under the scruff on his face. He snorted a chuckle and raised a hand, clicking his fingers.

...

The impala made the gravel crackle under its wheels as it came to a stop. The boys jumped out and began towards me before they saw my whole body jump with the force of something pounding at the closed factory doors at my back. “Is that the hound?” Sam called, quickly coming towards me to help hold it off until I held up a hand. Dean went for his gun, “I thought we had a week!” “Stop! It wants me.” I yelled to them. Truth be told I’d been waiting for them to track my phone and find me, holding off the hound to have one last goodbye. I wasn't ready to die without seeing them one more time. “What have you done?” Dean yelled over the growling. “Oh, you're just annoyed I beat you to it.” I joked back. In all honesty I was terrified, holding this demon dog at bay was tough enough, but it was worth it to know Dean and Sam would come out of this alive. “Y/N, why?” Sam groaned, his shoulders sagging where he'd frozen. “Cause you two need each other.” I gave Sam a sad smile, committing his eyes to memory, that friendly hazel would get me through years on the rack. Then I turned my attention to Dean, his look of anger became desperate as he read the resolution in my eyes. “Y/N, please…” “I love you both.” I had meant to call it out to them, make sure they heard it, but it came out as a cracked whisper. I took a step forward and turned around as the doors flung open. Even though she was terrifying and hideous, there was a certain beauty to this hellish beast. I held my arms wide and welcomed the promise of death. Her paws landed on my chest, pushing me to the ground hard enough to knock the breath from me. I clenched my teeth and moaned against the first claw, but I made sure not to scream. That, I was most proud of. My boys might have the memory of seeing it happen, but they wouldn't be haunted by my screams.

When you die it all goes black for a moment. Like you've clenched your eyes shut and then finally opened them. Time falls away and for a moment, all your troubles fall behind you. But when I opened them I was standing over my body, a brunette woman standing next to me. “I’m dead?” I asked. She nodded, looking toward the Winchester’s who were still standing at a distance. Though Sam seemed to be holding Dean back. I could see the hellhound backing off from my lifeless form, I could see Sam’s hesitation as he looked around. “What happened?” The woman asked, finally turning back to me. “What?” The question caught me by surprise. “Well…” she smiled, “I was expecting Dean.” She explained. “I made the deal.” I shrugged, watching as the two boys finally raced toward my body, Dean pulling me into his arms. I couldn't watch any more and turned my back to it. “Sorry.” The woman said, drawing my attention back to her. “For what? Being the delivery woman? I’m the one who made the deal. I know where I’m headed” “It ain’t gonna be much fun.” She seemed kind, consoling even. Truth be told, I didn’t mind, not when the boys were scratch free and still breathing. “Well… we best be going then.” She turned from my body and started towards the factory. As we reached the door she stopped me and turned to face me. “If you could go back and do it all over again, would you?” She asked, almost like it was a box she needed to tick. I glanced back at the scene behind me. “Yes. It was just the twists and turns of fate. And honestly, my life was full of little wonders.” I thought of Sam’s eyes, Dean’s smile, the taste of his lips...laughing with them between cases...walking my baby sister down the aisle and watching her marry a good man--flashes of my life that made the rest worth it. These small hours still remain.

Tags: @ackleholic-hunter @akshi8278 @arryn-nyxx @autopistaaningunaparte @avasmommy224 @babypieandwhiskey @beckawinchester @blacktithe7 @bringmesomepie56 @chaos-and-the-calm67 @charliebradbury1104 @chvalkenberg95 @clairese1980 @dancingalone21 @dreamilyjensen @ellen-reincarnated1967 @eyes-of-a-disney-princess @fandoms-are-the-best-escape @frenchybell @gabby913 @grace-for-sale @green-love-red-fantasyhearts @hasta-impalasta @i-like-your-assbutt @ilostmyshoe-79 @impala-dreamer @impalaimagining @iwriteaboutdean @jalove-wecallhimdean @jensen-jarpad @kazchester-fanfiction @kristaparadowski @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @lipstickandwhiskey @lucifer-in-leather @lucis-unicorn @melonberri @manawhaat @mogarukes @mrswhozeewhatsis @munlis @nichelle-my-belle @notnaturalanahi @oriona75 @percywinchester27 @purgatoan @redlipstickandplaid @ruprecht0420 @sdavid09 @sherloki-moriartea @thegreatficmaster @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @wayward-mirage @waywardjoy @wheresthekillswitch @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @wi-deangirl77 @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @wideawakeandwriting @dont-trust-humanity @you-know-whodoesthat-crazypeople @maddieburcham1 @captainemwinchester @mrsbatesmotel53 @samwinjarpad @devilsnevercry1388 Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list or taken off xx

#Angel's 2k #supernatural #2hot2handle #dean x reader #2ways2go #no2waysaboutit #2prompts2celebrate2k #this angel chick is 2 crazy 2 deal with #angst #fluff #supernatural violence

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elquisas · 7 years ago

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Damn those feelings

A/N: I basically rewrote the finale but…sadder? I think it’s sadder any way. Let me know what you guys think and if you want to be tagged in future stories!

Warnings: Character death, angst, Season 12 finale. Slower Crowley death :(

Words: 3,750 I’m sorry. Not really.

Paring: Crowley x Reader

Tagging: @professsionalsinner , @marksminions

You didn’t like it. Asking Rowena for help, yet, when Lucifer confessed he “took” care of her, you felt scared, sad, why did you feel sorry for her?

“Hello boys…and girls”

Oh ya, that’s why. You knew Crowley was not on good terms with his mother but she was still his mother and your feelings for him made you feel that way. Damn those feelings.

Dean wasn’t happy to see the king and it was evident in his punch. You studied Crowley’s features as Dean broke the news to him about his late mother, no sugar coating either. There that feeling was again, pity, sadness. You couldn’t shake it no matter how much you tried.

Just as your feelings for him would go away, he would pop back up in your life and the feelings would resurface all over again. Damn those feelings.

As Crowley explained why he did what he did, you felt like crying. You wanted to let all your feelings out. You wanted to let him know he was safe with you. That, with you he wouldn’t have to put up this façade in which he always had to rule or win and that, with you, it was okay to feel.

He may call himself a demon but ever since the trials, he lost that title. He had feelings now. He was almost human and that isn’t something he can shake off easily.

As he admitted to giving up on being king, it broke you. It broke you, because the one thing he’s been working on for 8 years, as much as you know, he just gave it up. All the blood, tears, and sweat he put in. All the times he risked his life to save his position. And to just give it all up. It didn’t make sense to you, not truly, but there’s nothing you could do now.

It was clear he was done. Lucifer and every other fucking demon in hell and angels in heaven broke him. Your feelings kept getting stronger as you listened to him speak. Damn those feelings.

As you and the Winchesters searched for any signs of Kelly and Castiel, Crowley silently watched. He never said anything but his eyes spoke everything. They held sorrow and anger and maybe even a little bit of fear. None of you had any idea what you were going up against and it scared the hell out of all of you.

This child was going to be born today and none of you knew how powerful it would be.

You don’t what about Crowley rubbed you the wrong way. He seemed so, carefree now. He had given up his thrown and was hell bent on destroying Lucifer, but how far exactly would he be willing to go to do that? That’s what scared you.

Once Sam found Cas’s trail, we almost immediately left. Of course though, Crowley wasn’t allowed to come. That was clear when Dean stabbed his hand, making him stay still. You hated when the boys, or anyone really, hurt Crowley.

It pained you to watch, but you had to keep up this front, the boys could not know about your love for a certain demon, not now.

You went to the little house where Kelly was being kept and as the Winchesters confronted Castiel, Mary going to see Kelly, you went out back. Being inside that house with everyone made you feel anxious, made you feel scared. Your chest tighten as you tried to catch your breath. Why were you having such a hard time right now?

Crowley’s back at the bunker, he’s safe. You’re here with the Winchesters and Castiel. There’s nothing to be afraid of. You can do this. At least that’s what you told yourself.

As you were caught up in your uneasy feelings, you didn’t take note of the seemingly obvious glowing seam floating off the ground. If you had missed that you were really off you game.

“Sam, Dean,” You yelled, voice full of concern, “you may want to come look at this”

Quickly the boys ran out of the house to where you were, alarmed by your tone of voice.

“Y/n what’s wro- what the hell is that?”

“Wish I could tell you Sam, I have no idea. I’d like to know the same thing.”

“Dammit Cas! When did you plan on telling us that you have a fucking glowing, floating vagina in the backyard? You sorta failed to mention that important detail!” Dean was mad, like really mad. Castiel had been hiding Kelly from them for a bit now and now this?

Truly you didn’t know why Castiel was more trustworthy than Crowley. You had facts to support that, but then again, you may have been a little more biased for a certain sinner.

“Stop yelling Dean,” Dean held a bitch face as Castiel told him, Dean wasn’t one for taking order, especially right now. “It’s a tear in space and time.”

The three of you waited for him to go on but all that followed was a moment of awkward silence before you broke it. “Care to elaborate Cas? We’re kind of on a time limit here.”

Castiel sighed and rolled his eyes as he turned to look at the 3 of you. “In there is a different reality. It’s Earth but different from this one.” A chorus of oh’s erupted from the 3 of you as it dawned on you.

Castiel tried convincing you guys that you didn’t want to see what was on the other side but Dean protested that, so in you went.

When you arrived it felt as if you were in a wasteland. You felt as if you were on the moon, rather than Earth. Dust permanently filled the air along with smoke as you looked around. You were alerted when a figure started to approach you. You pulled out an angel blade, ready to attack, but Castiel quickly shut that down as he lowered it.

Your face lit up with excitement as it stopped in front of you. To your amazement, it was Bobby! It had been so long since you last saw him and damn did you miss him.

You were soon met with disappointment as you realized this is not the Bobby you know. This isn’t YOUR Bobby. Starting to bore from their talk, you looked around in awe. The red lightning is the thing you loved the most so far. It had a certain feel to it that reminded you of Crowley.

You always felt happy and at peace when something made you think of him. Damn you if you didn’t love him. Everything about him drove you crazy with lust and love.

His sexy accent. The way his suit fit him just right. Oh how you loved his suit. Oddly, it made you want to hug him. You wish he didn’t wear his overcoat so much. He always did look better in just a suit. His wit that never failed to make you laugh. His stupid handsome face that made you just want to grab him and kiss him, never letting go. The feeling of butterflies in your stomach whenever he talked to you, getting as close as he could, always teasing you. Damn those feelings.

You were knocked out of your daydreaming when you heard your name being called by Sam.

“Oh god I was drooling. Dammit Crowley,” You mumbled to yourself as you wiped your mouth on you sleeve, “always distracting me at the worst times with your stupid beautiful face.”

You, Castiel, and the Winchesters finally returned to your world when you were greeted with a friendly face, at least to you.

“Hello boys, again. And Y/N of course. Hello darling” “Ya hey Crowley” You said looking away, blush covering your cheeks. It was the little things that really got you. A simple hello got you all flustered and you hated yourself for letting the feelings get that far.

“Wait a second, how the hell did you-” “I improvised,” Crowley stated waving his hurt hand as he cut off Sam, “lucky I did. Turns out I’m the answer to all your problems.”

As Crowley went to ready himself, you all went to check on Kelly. She was close to giving birth and with Lucifer on the loose still that meant bad news. There was that feeling from earlier again. It couldn’t just leave you alone, could it?

As you exited the house, you were greeted by none other than the devil himself.

“Well this is a fun surprise,” The four of you quickly pulled out your angel blades and prepared to fight, this is the exact thing you prayed not to happen, not the best with luck I guess. “I gotta hand it to you guys, you never give up, even when you should, even when you’d be so stupid not to.”

You carefully listened as Lucifer went back and forth with the boys. You hated waiting, you just wanted to punch him in the face for all the things he had done.

“Enough with the foreplay, let’s do this.” With that Cas charged at Lucifer only to be thrown to the side as if he was nothing, leaving you, Sam, and Dean standing there with looks of worry. The three of you glanced over at each other before you all took off in the same direction towards the glowing rip, not looking back.

As you ran you heard Lucifer yell ‘real mature’ behind you before he casually strolled over to where you all were.

“Guys I really wanna enjoy this, really wanna savor just ripping you apart, gettin all up in there and gettin all gooey.” Lucifer taunted as he sauntered over to you, “But you know, the little slugger is almost here and uh… Well, I’m on a clock.”

Lucifer stopped in his tracks as he looked at the three of you in confusion. Behind you was the rip and Lucifer was certainly drawn to it at first sight. After a few more seconds you all touched it in sync, zapping you into the bizarre-o world, leaving Lucifer interested at what it was.

“Okay Y/N we don’t have much time. We don’t want you to get hurt so you’re gonna go sit with Crowley behind that pile of dirt while he does the spell okay?” You nodded at Sam as he kissed you on your head giving you a reassuring pat and with that you ran over to Crowley and watched him do the spell.

“Hello darling, here for the show?” “Wouldn’t miss it for the world Crowley.”

Just as planned, Lucifer also touched it, sending him inside with all of you. Lucifer looked around in awe, as you did earlier before Sam spoke up.

“You wanted the Apocalypse? Well you got it.” “Sammy, hey” Lucifer said as he looked around him, “where’s your big bro?”

Almost instantly Dean appeared behind him. “Right here.” Lucifer turned to face Dean and was surprised by Dean holding a gun to him. “Ooh. Sweet toy.” “Yeah, I got it off an old – new pal of mine.” Lucifer stood silently as Dean pointed the gun at him, “See we have this bet, see if it works against an archangel. So, say hello to my little friend.”

Sam swiftly ran over to where you and Crowley were as Dean rapid fired into Lucifer with his gun. As Sam arrived Crowley’s smile as he talked to you faded, already annoyed with him.

“Took you long enough.” “Not now, Crowley. Come on.” As Crowley continued the spell you could hear Dean yelling at you three to hurry up, and when you didn’t hear the gun shots anymore you knew he needed to be fast.

“We do his ritual, we seal that rift, and we lock the devil in this godforsaken place.” Crowley explained. “That’s that plan, remember? Two birds, one spell.” “Right, right. Just hurry.”

Crowley scoffed at Sam before speaking to you, “I’m about to save moose and squirrel’s bloody ass again and you’d think they’d be a little appreciative of me or give me a thanks. But no that’s too much. Bloody Winchesters. At least you care, love.” There he went again. Making your heart flutter as he spoke. The feelings had grown too much to handle anymore.

You could care less what the Winchesters did or how Crowley would even react. You couldn’t hold your feelings back anymore. You needed let him know how you felt. Damn those feelings.

You crawled behind Crowley before hugging him from behind, burying your face in his neck, making him go stiff at your gesture. “I appreciate you Crowley. I truly do.” You told him as you continued to hug him tighter from behind, not wanting to let go. “Thank you for everything you’ve done. For the Winchesters, for Castiel, for the world, and for me. You’ve risked your life many times even when you didn’t need to. You may be a demon, but I don’t care. You’re nicer and more caring than any human I’ve ever met, and I love you for that Crowley.” You started to tear up as you confessed everything to the one person you loved most.

Who knew telling the love of your life that you loved them would be so hard?

“Despite the way everyone always treated you, you pulled through and held up your end. You’re handsome, caring, funny, and Crowley, I can’t hold back anymore I should’ve done this a long time ago but Crowley… I-I love you. I truly do and I can’t get over it. I try to get over you by going with other guys but Crowley I can’t.” You took a deep breath finishing off your confession. “Nothing works dammit! You don’t deserve the hate you get. And even though you gave up your throne you’ll always be my king. You deserve better Crowley. You truly do.”

You quickly kissed Crowley on the cheek as you stopped hugging him. Before he had a chance to say anything, you got up and ran over to help Sam and Dean. Leaving Crowley alone to finish the spell.

If Crowley was being honest, he didn’t know how to react. She had done it again, left him shocked. Crowley had took a liking to you as soon as he met you. That was 8 years ago though, you had grown so much and the more you grew into a badass hunter and the person you are now, the more Crowley fell for you.

He knew you could never love a thing like him, or so he thought. As he fdid the spell he kept mumbling to himself. “She loves me. She cares about me.” Over and over Crowley repeated this to himself. “This bloody world really is an alternate reality.” He whispered as Sam joined him again.

“Where’s Y/N moose?”

“She’s helping Dean, Crowley. Don’t worry about it. Okay uh, Dead Sea brine, uh, mercury, lambs blood, holy oil. Okay here we go. That’s the last of it. That’s everything.”

“No it’s not.”

“What? What the hell do you mean it’s not Crowley?”

“If we wanna heal that rip, we need one more minor ingredient.”

“Okay, what?” Crowley rolled his eyes at Sam as he got up to go to you and Dean. “A life.” As Crowley walked away Sam stood up and followed him, annoyed that Crowley was bringing that up just now. “That’s not minor Crowley.”

Lucifer was kicking you and Dean’s ass. He was much more powerful than you remembered and you didn’t know how much more either of you could take. “Ah, I could do this all day.” As Lucifer threw you out of the way he leaned over Dean’s wounded body.

“You make such funny noises.” Just as you finally got on your knees, Lucifer was thrown back by an invisible force. As Sam ran to help Dean, then you, Crowley appeared in front of you as he cleared his throat.

“Surprise.” Lucifer laughed and flailed his arms and legs in excitement as he called out Crowley’s name before getting up to stand.

“You sneaky little… So I guess I get to kill you twice, huh, Crowley?”

“I doubt it.”

“Oh, no, no. You had your chance. You could’ve put me back in the cage, but you had to make it personal, didn’t you?”

As Lucifer talked your heart raced. You had no idea what Crowley’s plan was and you were scared. You couldn’t lose him. Not now.

“You’re right.” He agreed as he walked closer and closer to Lucifer. Leaving not even an arm’s length between them. “It is personal. You humiliated me. I… I hate you. Deeply. Truly. I’m gonna enjoy wiping that smug, self-satisfied look off your face. Personally.”

“You mean…this one?” Asked Lucifer as he tauntingly smiled and pointed at his face.

Crowley simply smiled as he pulled out an angel blade. “Crowley don’t be fucking dumb please. Don’t do anything stupid.” You silently pleaded to yourself. You had tears in your eyes as you watched the exchanged.

“Come on, Crowley. You know whatever you try, you’re gonna lose.”

“You’re right. But even when I lose, I win.”

A moment of silence past before Crowley chucked and smiled before he looked back at you and the boys. “Bye boys. Goodbye Y/N.” With that Crowley raised his angel blade and in one quick motion, stabbed himself in the stomach, letting out a loud gasp for air. With that, your whole world shattered.

You screamed, you screamed his name over and over with tears in your eyes as you ran your hands through your hair, not knowing what to do. As Crowley’s body hit the ground with a thud, you ran over to him. Everything else around you had gone silent. You only focused on Crowley.

You tried to hold him up. You tried everything to get him up, he couldn’t leave. Not now. Not ever.

“Come on Crowley get up. It’s okay, you’re okay. Don’t worry just get up. I got you. Please don’t Crowley.” You pleaded with him for what felt like forever. You were holding him now. One hand behind his back and another one on the back of his head.

You buried your face in his neck as you sobbed. As Crowley winced in pain you laid him on the ground, staring into his eyes, you told him over and over how much you loved him. As you spoke through your tears, Crowley’s breath hitched as he tried speaking.

“Y/-Y/N. Don’t worry about m-me love. Go with Sam and Dean. You d-don’t need to be here.” As he spoke, Crowley started to tear up. He loved you. More than he thought and damn did he think he was stupid for not telling you before now.

You shook your head as he told you to go. “No Crowley. I’m not leaving you. I’ve left you alone so many times, well not this time. I’m not going anyway. Crowley I love you. I can’t leave you here to die.”

Crowley let out a breathy chuckle “I did this to myself darling and it was worth it if it meant you were safe. Sa-save yourself. You deserve so much more than this. I’m poison love. Lu-Lucifer will kill you. Please Y/N, don’t let that bastard get the satisfaction of getting you. Run.”

You closed your eyes and silently cried as you rested your forehead against Crowley’s. Crowley moved his hands to rest on your cheeks as tears broke through.

“Please don’t cry Y/N. I love you. I love you more than anything or anyone and I’ve always loved you. You go Y/N, live your life and when your time comes I’ll be there.” As Crowley spoke you cried even more. “At least yours is the last face I see, love.” Crowley took a deep breath, knowing what was about to happen would be hard for you. But it had to be done.

“I’m so sorry for what I’m going to do Y/N. Just know, I did this because I love you and I only care whether you live or die, not me.” With that, Crowley grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled your lips to his.

The feeling of his lips on yours was blissful. You never wanted it to end but Crowley needed to catch you off guard to do what he was about to do.

As if it was one step, Crowley pulled away from you as he grabbed the angel blade one last time, piercing it through his heart, resulting in a bright flash of light. When the light cleared, he was gone. All that was left was an empty vessel. You yelled and you cursed and you punched the ground and you cried. All of your emotions falling out at once.

He was dead, the king of hell, Crowley, former crossroads demon, the demon that you had grown to love for 8 years, was lastly dead. You didn’t know what to feel anymore. Rage, sorrow, pity, brokenhearted. Every, fucking, feeling was out. And damn those feelings.

You were quickly pulled from your thoughts when Sam picked you up bridal style and ran for what was left of the rip. “PUT ME DOWN SAM!” You tried fighting against his grip but it was no use.

As you reached the other side, he put you down and then you saw it. Cas’s dead vessel. Lucifer had gotten him too. As much as you considered Castiel a friend you could care less at the moment. Crowley was who you wanted. And now he was gone.

You looked at Lucifer and instant rage coursed through your veins. HE was the reason Crowley was dead. HE was the reason Crowley suffered. And now, you were hell bent on getting justice for Crowley. Just as you were about punch the devil, Mary came storming out of the house and landed hit after hit on him.

Her last punched knocked Lucifer back into the rip but right as he fell in, he grabbed Mary’s arm, pulling her in too. And just like that it was sealed. Everything on the other side, locked away forever. But then again, nothing lasts forever.

You didn’t care where Lucifer was. You weren’t going to stop till you killed him. Because of him you felt feelings of rage you’ve never felt before. Sure, those feelings may get you killed but you didn’t care. You needed to get justice for Crowley. You’d never be able to shake the feeling Crowley gave you. Damn those feelings.

#crowley x reader #mine #crowley angst #crowleyxreader #crowley #supernatural #supernatural reader insert #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you #crowley x you #crowley reader insert

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sylvanfreckles · 4 years ago

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Day Twelve: Belonging

Fandom: Supernatural

Summary: (Sequel to Day 21 of Whumptober) Cas faces a long recovery after his grace is cut out to power up Naomi. Now it's Christmas, and they're meeting Jody and the girls for a long weekend together. Cas has a chance to learn more about his condition, and Sam has a chance to ask a very important question...if Dean doesn't beat him to it.

(The finale! You don't have to read the Whumptober chapter to understand this story, but it might give you more of a sense of what's going on.)

* * *

There was a brief moment of disorientation as Dean woke up, but it passed quickly enough. He was still jammed into the backseat of his car, with Eileen behind the wheel and Sammy riding shotgun, and Cas stretched out across the seat next to him. Cas was sitting sideways on the seat behind Sam with his feet in Dean's lap, slumped against the door with his eyes closed. Dean rolled his shoulders and tried to stretch inconspicuously so as not to disturb Cas, and caught Sam's eye when his brother twisted around to check on him.

“You good?” Sam asked quietly. “We're about an hour out from the cabin.”

“I think my knees are permanently locked up,” Dean groused. “How long was I out?”

“Couple hours. Cas fell asleep just across the border.”

Dean glanced over at the man beside him. “Yeah, he's not asleep.”

One bleary blue eye opened to study him and Cas tried for a smile that came across more as a grimace. “I'm fine, Dean.”

“Yeah, right.” Dean pushed himself up a little straighter in the seat. “What's the number?”

Now Cas was definitely grimacing, and he shifted uncomfortably as Sam and Dean's attention was focused on him. “Six.”

Dean snorted. “Which means eight. You've gotta tell us when it gets bad, man.”

Cas closed his eyes and let his head rest against the seat again. Even in the dark of the interior of the car Dean could see that the former angel was uncomfortable. Arms tucked around himself, slightly hunched over in the seat, muscles in his calves so tight Dean could feel the spasming.

It had been nearly four months since that horrible day when they'd gotten the call. Some anonymous tip from some bastard angel under Naomi's command, informing them that Castiel had been stripped of his grace and needed assistant. Hell, they hadn't even known he was alive again...the last Dean had seen his (angel? Friend? Something else?) had been pulled away by the Empty in a last-ditch effort to stop Billie from killing Dean.

But at some point Jack had freed him from the Empty. They had remodeled heaven. Jack had been full of big, exciting plans and wanted Cas to remain in heaven for a little while, while the kid scoured the fragments of Chuck's alternate dimensions for a way to restore his grace.

Then Naomi happened. Naomi and some twisted, ancient magic that had her sacrificing Cas's grace to turn herself into an archangel. They'd caught him (apparently Cas wasn't the only angel Jack had brought back), tied him down, carved sigils into his back, and burned his grace right out of his body to power up super-bitch.

God (or Jack or whatever) he hoped the kid tore her in half whenever he got back.

Cas had been left wounded, graceless, and human to die of exposure in the middle of nowhere. If Anapiel hadn't had a crisis of conscience, or whatever angels had, he would have died without Dean even knowing he'd been alive again.

So here they were, the four of them packed into the Impala, headed for a cabin Jody had rented to spend Christmas with her and the girls. It was still difficult for Cas to travel, as he was frequently wracked by spasms of pain that left him weak and miserable, but he was determined to spend his first human Christmas with Claire. And Jody had promised soft beds, a big fireplace, and a Jacuzzi to help make the former angel more comfortable.

“I think I need to move,” Cas finally said, after a few moments of silence. They'd had difficulty treating his condition—the closest human ailment was fibromyalgia, or maybe some sort of rheumatoid arthritis, but the flare-ups of pain and stiffness were short and intense. Keeping his muscles and joints warm helped, and sometimes some light exercise relieved the horrible, cramping spasms.

Even though they were only an hour from their destination, Eileen turned off at the first place she found. “I've got him, Dean,” Sam said before climbing out of the car to help pull Cas out.

Cas really was doing better, it just didn't seem like it in moments like this. When Sam was practically holding him up as they made a couple of slow, painful laps around the car, Cas's face pinched in pain.

Eileen twisted in the seat to look back at Dean and for a moment he thought she was going to ask if he wanted to drive...but he must have looked as exhausted as he felt because she simply held up a thermos. “Coffee?”

He let out a deep, dramatic sigh and reached for the thermos. “You are a life-saver,” he announced. “If Sam doesn't marry you, I will.”

She giggled at that. “He bought a ring.”

Dean had the choice between spitting his coffee all over his car and the woman in front of him or swallowing it in one painful gulp. “He what?” he spluttered, pounding his chest where the coffee, somehow, seemed to be stuck on the way down.

“He thinks I don't know,” Eileen explained with a fond look to where Sam was gently leading Cas through some stretches.

“Hell,” Dean shook his head, took another swallow of coffee, and passed the thermos up. “Maybe I should propose, just to give him the hint.”

Eileen laughed again and stowed the thermos in the front seat while Sam opened the back door to help Cas into the car. “What's so funny?” he asked.

“You,” Dean retorted.

“Real mature, dude,” Sam bitch-faced back.

Dean chuckled and settled back in the seat while Cas rearranged himself. Dean gave him a second to get comfortable, then pulled his legs back across his lap. “Feel better?” he asked, thumbs working at the cramped muscles in Cas's calves.

Cas nodded. He looked like that short trek around the car had exhausted him, but he also looked more relaxed than before. “My apologies for the delay.”

“Shut up,” Dean teased. He couldn't quite reach over to ruffle Cas's hair, so he settled with shaking the former angel's foot back and forth. “It's Christmas, Cas. You can have as many breaks as you need.”

Eileen was pulling back on the road as Cas leaned his head against the seat, studying Dean intensely. “And how many of these 'it's Christmas' excuses do I get?”

“It's Christmas,” Dean explained with a shrug.

“Dean...”

“C'mon, dude. Christmas.”

Cas switched tactics. “Sam, your brother isn't making sense.”

“He just means don't be afraid to speak up when you need something,” Sam replied.

“Spoilsport,” Dean couldn't reach Sam's hair, either, so he settled for tossing a balled-up hamburger wrapper at the back of his head.

Cas was smiling now—a tired smile, but a genuine one. “Sam, your brother is compensating for his inability to show affection again.”

“Well, Cas, that's just Dean being Dean.”

* * *

He'd been a little surprised that Jody had rented a cabin instead of having them all over to her house, or even packing them in to her cabin...but Dean figured their family had gotten a lot bigger since the last time they were all together.

Jody was waiting for them, towel flung over one shoulder and a welcoming smile on her face. “Glad to see you, kiddo,” she said, pulling Sam into a hug. “How was the drive?”

“Not bad,” Sam shrugged. “Dean?”

“We're good,” Dean called. He'd already helped Cas out of the car and was holding his arm out, bent at the elbow, so the former angel could latch on for support. That little walking break they'd taken had probably done more good than they realized and kept Cas's body from locking up on him. Just a few months ago Sam or Dean would have had to carry him out of the car after a trip like this, and here he was walking under (mostly) his own power.

Jody met them partway, standing at the top of the stairs with her hands extended. Cas transferred his grip from Dean to Jody and carefully climbed up the steps to the cabin's wraparound porch, letting Jody steady and guide him up. “Good to see you again,” she said when he reached the top, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “Claire and the others will be back in about an hour, do you want to rest until they get here?”

Cas nodded. Better still wasn't recovered, and he didn't want to push himself too hard and end up bedridden during the long weekend.

“Come on. I've got a surprise for you,” Jody said. She held her arm out like Dean had and Cas took it, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Dean was following.

“Get the bags, Sammy,” Dean announced loftily, ignored the middle finger his brother sent his way. He hesitated when he saw Eileen, but she just smirked at him.

“Go on,” she pushed at his arm. “I'll make sure Sam doesn't break anything.”

On mostly reassured—Eileen hadn't been around long enough to become immune to Winchester Luck—Dean followed Jody and Cas to a bedroom just off the main central room of the cabin. “The other rooms are upstairs,” Jody was explaining, tugging back the blankets on the bed as she did. “It's probably more noisy down here, but we wanted to save you the stairs.”

“Thank you, Jody,” Cas sounded exhausted as he climbed into bed, letting the sheriff tug the blankets up to his shoulders. “This is...oh.”

Jody was grinning. She had her arms folded across her chest and a pleased expression on her face. “Early Christmas present. You like?”

Cas let out a sound that was somewhere between a whimper and a groan and looked past Jody to Dean. “It's warm.”

“Heated mattress pad,” Jody explained. “Sure beats a half-dozen heating pads.”

Dean slipped a hand beneath the blankets and ran it along the warm mattress. “You're a genius.”

“Of course I am. Come on, let's let him rest.”

He hesitated, but Cas seemed content under the blankets and Jody was tugging on his arm, so he followed her out to the main room. “Okay, you and Cas are sharing, right?” she asked, moving back around the island that separated the kitchen from the main room.

“Uh, yeah,” Dean hesitated. “It's, uh...when he has a bad night it's better when someone's with him, so we just kind of planned it that way.”

“Look, kiddo, you don't have to explain anything to me,” Jody had pulled another towel out of a drawer and was gesturing at him. “You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, okay?”

He hesitated again and glanced at the door. Sam and Eileen were taking an awfully long time with the luggage, but maybe they were just enjoying some privacy before a big family weekend. “He, uh, he said some things. Before he died. And I just...I don't know how to handle it.”

Jody slung the towel over her shoulder, right on top of the first one she'd clearly forgotten about, and leaned toward him on the counter. “What kind of things?”

Dean wrapped his arms around himself and stared toward the door. Even after all this time it was still so real—the pain and loss from that moment, Cas's final words echoing in his head, the emptiness of the world that followed. “Like...feelings stuff.”

“Oh.” Jody walked around the island and tugged out one of the stools and sat on it, facing Dean. “Have you talked to your brother about it?”

“I don't know what to say. I haven't said anything...until now.”

Jody sucked in a breath. “Not even Castiel?”

“He was dead!” Dean scrubbed one hand through his hair, fighting the urge to turn away and hide his face. “He died, and I, I should have been able to figure things out then on my own, but then? Then we get the call that he's back but he's hurt, and-and he needs so much help now, and it just doesn't seem right.”

“Slow down, kiddo,” Jody caught one of his wrists and tugged him over, sliding another stool out for him to sit. “Walk me through this. What are you feeling now.”

“I don't know!” Dean let his elbow rest on the counter and buried his face in his hand. “He said this stuff and I didn't have any time to process it and he died...and now he's here but it's just so...it's not fair.”

Jody was rubbing his shoulder through his outburst, and leaned in close enough to wrap one arm around him. “What do you want to do?”

“Nothing.” Dean wiped his face and pulled away, trying to pull himself back together. “I can't right now, Jody. I can't...I can't ask him to make some kind of, of choice like that right now. Not when...not when he needs us. Too many people have done that to him. If we...if we can get him back on his feet, back to where he's able to walk away if he needs to...but not now.”

He hadn't realized he was crying again until Jody gently wiped a thumb across his cheek. “That really sucks, Dean.”

Dean managed a pathetic chuckle. “Yeah. Yeah, it does.” He wasn't going to be one of those people who took advantage of Cas when Cas couldn't say no. Besides, Cas had to know that they'd still take care of him, even if there wasn't...something...there.

The door banged open, bringing in the cold wind and Sam loaded down with too many bags. “Finally,” Dean complained, spinning around on the stool. “What took you guys so long?”

Sam huffed and very pointedly dropped Dean's bag on the floor right in front of the door. “I'm taking the rest of this upstairs. Jody, which one's our room?”

“I'll show you,” Jody offered.

Dean looked past Sam to Eileen, who was loitering by the door. He raised his eyebrows in question and she held up her left hand with a shake of the head. Still no proposal.

Damn. What was taking that kid so long?

* * *

“Hey, buddy, you awake?” Dean crouched beside the bed, gently ruffling Cas's hair. The former angel stretched like a contented cat and blinked up at him.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hey there,” Dean replied, grinning. “You look rested.”

“It's so warm.” Ever since his return, Cas had so much trouble just staying warm. Back at the bunker they practically kept a constant rotation of hot water bottles in play for him to tuck under his sweatshirt or to wrap in his blankets. So seeing him this comfortable and relaxed made something deep in Dean's heart unwind just a little.

“The girls are here. Wanna say hi? Get some dinner?”

Cas grunted and pushed the blankets back, twisting to get his feet under him. His clothes were rumpled from sleeping in them, but didn't seem to notice as he pushed himself up. “Claire's here?”

“First one in the door,” Dean replied. He held his arm out to steady Cas as they made their way through the bedroom to the main room. “She and Eileen are swapping werewolf stories.”

He helped Cas out of the room and gently lead him over to one of the stools at the counter. Jody—with a third towel now, on her other shoulder—was whisking up waffle batter in a big red bowl in the kitchen.

“Cas!” Claire pulled away from Eileen as soon as she saw the former angel. She hesitated for a second, but when he held an arm out to her she gladly went in for a hug. “You came!”

“Of course,” Cas replied. When Claire pulled away he seemed reluctant to release her, gently brushing her blonde hair behind her shoulders. “How are you?”

Claire shrugged. “Still kicking ass.”

“Hell yeah!” Dean announced, giving the kid a high-five.

Cas was smiling—it was a small, tired smile, but it was genuine. “Claire...your parents send their love.”

Claire froze. “You saw them?”

“I did some work in Heaven, before...anyway, they wanted you to know that they're proud of you.”

Claire's face went red, then white. “You told them about me?”

Cas nodded. “Of course. They can't wait to meet Kaia.”

“Oh my god,” Claire moaned, burying her face in her hands.

“Hey,” Dean bumped her with his hip. “Pretty sure he's technically your step-brother now.”

She punched his arm. “Shut up, Dean!”

“No fighting,” Jody announced. “Patience, honey, did you find the wafflemaker?”

Patience reluctantly left her conversation with Sam—probably about SATs and college scholarships and Harvard or something—to help Jody lug an ancient Black & Decker monstrosity out of a box on the counter.

“Anyway,” Claire cleared her throat, neck still flushed with embarrassment. “You look good. I like this,” she added, trailing her fingers through Cas's hair. It was flecked with gray now. Sam thought it was from the trauma done on his vessel when his grace was burned out.

Cas leaned away from her touch, brushing his own hand over his hair self-consciously. “I'm not accustomed to my vessel's appearance changing.”

“Hey, I like the gray!” Jody piped in, gesturing to her own silvery pixie cut. “It's very...paternal.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “Jody!” Dean snorted, earning him another punch from Claire. “Anyway, it's good.”

She probably meant that Cas didn't really look like Jimmy anymore. Pain and trauma had etched lines in his face and gray in his hair. As though sensing his train of thought Cas leaned into Dean, and Dean wrapped an arm behind his back.

Kaia joined them, slipping an arm around Claire's and resting her head on the blonde girl's shoulders. They moved to the side to whisper about something between themselves, and Dean could see Eileen and Sam talking to Alex near one of the couches in the main room.

“Where's Donna?” he asked.

“She'll be here in the morning,” Jody replied. “Spending Christmas Eve with her brother tonight.”

Cas shifted against Dean, and he moved his arm up. Sometimes touching the scars left by the sigils hurt. “So, T-minus what until waffles?”

Jody let out an exaggerated huff and tossed a fourth towel over her shoulder—same side as the first two. “Never if you don't get your butt in here and help out. We need fruit chopped and eggs scrambled, and for the love of god somebody get the bacon.”

Dean let out a laugh and pulled away from Cas, only for the former angel to grab his sleeve.

“Dean?”

His heart dropped. That was the voice...the pale, scared voice that meant something bad was happening. He managed to get his arms around Cas in time to cushion his fall to the ground, as Cas suddenly curled in on himself in a full-body spasm of pain.

Someone swore behind him—he thought it was Jody, but when she started calling Sam he realized it must have been Patience. Cas shuddered in his grasp, arms wrapped around himself tight enough to bruise.

“Back up, come on,” Sam was wading in, flapping his giant moose arms to move the girls away from the kitchen. Cas let out a moan and buried his face in Dean's shoulder, shame adding to the pain riding up and down his body.

“I've got you, Cas,” Dean murmured. He ran his hand up and down his friend's arm, as though he could physically hold him together. “It's gonna pass. It always passes. You'll be okay.”

Sam crouched in front of them, his sheer size blocking the rest of the room from view. “We're right here, Cas,” he added, one hand on Cas's knee.

Cas tried to curl further into Dean, as though seeking whatever comfort or warmth the hunter could offer. Dean closed his eyes and pressed his cheek to the top of Cas's head—all they could do was reassure him, hold him where it wouldn't hurt, remind him he wasn't alone.

It wasn't fair. He'd been having such a good day.

“Right here, buddy,” Dean repeated. Cas was breathing in sharp, pained jerks, like even his lungs were spasming under the onslaught. “You're all right. We're not leaving.”

Finally...finally...the awful spasms slowed. Dean knew it couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes, but it always felt like hours. Cas let out a moan and shifted away, awkwardly dragging up a hand to wipe at his eyes.

Dean's heart broke a little more.

“Sam?” Alex was standing behind Sam, a first-aide kit in her hands. “Can I check on him?”

“He's all right,” Dean tried to protest, but Sam had already backed away so the young woman could take his place. Alex gently picked up one of Cas's wrists to feel his pulse, then pulled a small penlight out to check his eyes.

“How long are his seizures usually?” she asked.

“Seizures?” Dean shook his head. “What are you talking about? That wasn't a seizure.”

“We did rounds with a neurosurgeon last semester,” Alex explained. “They don't always look like they do on TV. I'd have to looks some things up, but it looked like a seizure to me.”

For the first time since Cas had come back, Dean could see the thinnest thread of an answer. Seizures could be treated, right? It wasn't everything Cas was dealing with, but if they could stop these attacks...

“It was less than three minutes,” Alex was saying. “If Castiel normally recovers from them just fine he'll be okay, but maybe you should think about going to a neurologist.”

Dean nodded, looking back down at the man he was holding. Cas had let his head drop back to Dean's shoulder, closing his eyes in obvious exhaustion.

“Thanks, Alex,” Sam said, helping Dean struggle to his feet with Cas in his arms. “We'll check that out.”

* * *

“The world can end now. I'm never leaving this bed.” Dean wiggled his toes under the blankets, relaxing in the luxuriant warmth of Cas's new heated mattress pad. “Jody is a genius.”

Cas, for his part, was quiet. He was curled on his side, watching Dean. Last night had been one of the bad ones—they usually were, right after an attack like that. Nightmares and night terrors were par for the course for their line of work, but Cas had once confessed he sometimes woke up thinking he was still tied down to the altar. Even now, months later, he'd scream out in his sleep and try to claw his way out of the blankets.

When Dean was with him—or Sam or Eileen—it was easier to remember where he was.

“This was my Christmas present, Dean,” he finally said after a few minutes.

“So? You can share.”

“Don't you want to see what Jody got you?”

That got Dean moving. He flipped the covers back and went for his bag, tossing clothes over his shoulder to the bed behind him. Cas got up more slowly, still stiff from the attack the night before. He was slowly pulling on a pair of baggy jeans and an oversized hooded sweatshirt when Dean turned back around, trying to tug on his jeans and henley at the same time.

“Come on,” Dean said, as soon as he was decent. Cas seemed steadier on his feet today, so he only needed a hand on Dean's shoulder for balance. “Sam might open everything without us.”

Sam hadn't, of course. And they'd had to wait for Donna, and then wait for breakfast (to Dean's relief, Jody had remembered to bring Cas-friendly food, and while the rest of them ate deliciously greasy hashbrown casserole Cas actually managed a full plate of cottage cheese and fruit).

Then there was the battle. Chucking balled-up wrapping paper at Claire every time she made a sassy comment, making Sam wear the Santa hat to actually hand out the gifts. Donna had given Cas a big, fleece blanket in a blue that almost matched his old tie, and he'd immediately wrapped himself up in it and dozed off in his armchair.

Dean had kept an eye on his brother throughout the morning. Christmas was the perfect chance to propose, right? It was the shit Hallmark movies were made of. But Sam just stood there, seven shades of awkward, one hand jammed in his pocket and his big moose eyes all sad and wistful.

“For the love of...” Dean grumbled. He shoved himself up to his feet—maybe it was time to stop sitting on the floor—and caught Eileen's hand as she passed by. He sank down to one knee, looking up at her seriously. “Eileen. You've probably been the best thing that's happened to my brother in his entire life. So I'm asking for him...will you marry Sam?”

There was a squeal from one of the girls, an enraged shout from Sam, and the click of Donna's camera. Eileen laughed at him, twisting her fingers through his, and looked over to Sam. “Yes.”

* * *

No, Dean isn't good with his feelings, but he'll meddle with Sam's just fine.

That's actually a horrible thing to do to your little brother, never propose for someone.

I did have this long-term plan, where Dean is putting off any conversation about feelings, or "I love you" moments, or anything like that because Cas isn't strong enough to walk away if he needs. The last thing he wants is Cas thinking he HAS to be in a relationship with Dean or he'll be out on the street--or that Dean would only take care of him because he wants something in return. Dean is shoving that all down to focus on taking care of Cas. And because he’s Dean Winchester and allergic to talking about things, but Jody can out-mom anyone.

Anyway, that's the end! I hope you enjoyed these twelve days of stories!

* * *

Day Eleven - Master List

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