#supernatural fanfic series

[ambiguous-avery]

Chasing Shadows, Part 4

Dean Winchester x OC fem!Touched!Reader/You | WC: 6927

Summary: She’s never been afraid of the dark, not really. She’s more concerned about getting lost in it. He’s haunted by every dark deed he’s ever done. It’s constantly nipping at his heels like a hell hound. He’s her light in the dark, and she’s the one bit of darkness he’s willing to embrace.

Tags/Warnings: No use of Y/N, canon-typical violence, eventual romance, eventual smut, fluff and angst, POV alternating (sometimes a little all over the place), mutual pining, no beta we die like men

Disclaimer: The base concept of Touched comes from @aylacavebear and is used with permission. I’ve taken creative liberties with it.

A/N: I think this is the longest I have ever committed to a single story before in my life, and I am so excited to have others along this journey with me. I feel like in my short time here on Tumblr, I’ve learned so much more about writing and how to string words together in ways that people seem to enjoy. I think it’s safe to say that I have drawn a lot of inspiration from @godmadeaterribleerror for this part. If you haven’t read her work, I highly, highly recommend her. She is an amazing writer.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had shared a bed with someone. So when you woke up with a heavy weight over you and warmth at your back, it was almost jarring. Almost. You stopped yourself from immediately pulling away and instead tried to will yourself to relax. Dean’s arm pinned you against him, your back pressed against his chest. After the initial wave over surprise had ebbed away, it was easier to melt against him, reveling in the closeness of another person. Life had been too hectic as of late, so finding a significant other hadn’t been high on your list of priorities. The right guy had never come along, and if his company wasn’t better than the peace and quiet you had in your own solitude, then there was no reason to keep him around. It didn’t quell the little rat of loneliness that gnawed at the edges of your self-esteem, though. 

This though? The lonely rat was loving this.

Your eyes slid shut again, comfortable in the moment despite the spring digging into your side and the lump in the pillow that sat in just the wrong spot. You must’ve dozed off because when you came to again, Dean’s warmth was gone. Rolling into the spot where he had been, it was mostly cold. You frowned before sitting up and looking over at the other bed. Sam was gone, and the thought that you had been left behind roared to the forefront of your mind. You stumbled out of bed, nearly falling flat on your face when your foot got tangled in one of the blankets, and rushed to the window. Relief washed over you as you spotted the Impala still parked just outside of the room. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and physically felt the tension in the air lift.

A door squeaked on its hinges behind you, and you turned to find Dean stepping out from the bathroom, still fumbling with the buckle of his belt. You didn’t even try averting your gaze from watching the way his nimble fingers worked the leather through the metal.

“Mornin’, sweetheart.” You heard the grin in his voice before you begrudgingly lifted your eyes to look at his face. “You get a bit cold last night?” he asked. When you tilted your head in question, he continued, “‘Cause you were all over me like I was your personal heater.” You weren’t sure how it was possible, but his smile seemed brighter than usual. And were those dimples? How had you missed those before? You blushed.

“Hey, I’m pretty sure that you were the one wrapped around me like some kind of octopus when I woke up this morning,” came your indignant response, although there was no real heat behind it. He laughed and walked towards the bed, briefly stopping to scoop up your keys from the floor. The light on them was flashing, and he clicked it off.

“Hey, I never said I was complaining. Pretty girl in my bed wants to cuddle? How could I say no?” You smiled. Ever the charmer, huh? You couldn’t say that you hated it, although it would likely get old sooner rather than later. Or maybe not. You couldn’t say for sure.

You gathered up some clothes from your suitcase you had pushed into the corner of the room and slipped into the bathroom to change. When you came out, Dean was seated on the edge of the bed the two of you had shared, your keys set on the bedside table right next to the obsidian pendant you had purchased. He picked it up.

“So, this is the kind of thing you like, huh?” he asked, turning the stone in his hands. A twinge of something you couldn’t name shot through you, and the urge to walk over and snatch it from him had you marching over to him before you caught yourself part way there and stopped. To try and save face, you held out your hand expectantly, waiting for him to hand it over rather than taking it from him.

“I dunno; I just kinda thought it was cool. And at five bucks, I figured it couldn’t hurt to pick it up.” That was the understatement of the year, but how were you supposed to tell him that something as simple as holding the pendant made you feel complete? That there had been a perfect crescent shaped hole in your very existence that you didn’t know you had until you wore the stone? That sounded like a good way to get Dean to turn around and drop you back at your house with no further questions. He dropped the necklace into your hand, and your fingers wrapped around it. The stone, despite having sat on the table the entire night, was warm, as though you had been wearing it the entire time. You moved to pull the necklace over your head but paused. 

When you had done that last night, you had been whisked off to the Void without meaning to, and you weren’t sure you wanted a repeat of that visit. At least, you didn’t think you wanted a repeat. What exactly had happened was still hazy in your mind. You vaguely remembered someone or something there with you which was a first. It had spoken to you, and the words it had said were on the tip of your tongue but they wouldn’t fully form. You knew that when you Walked, your whole body went to the Void, leaving no physical form behind until you re-emerged. Dean hadn’t mentioned anything about you disappearing into the shadows which made you think that your trip to the Void had only been mental. If you had actually gone there. 

Sam and Dean had mentioned a spirit attached to an item, and you could put two and two together. Could there be a spirit attached to the necklace? Part of you wanted to bring it up to Dean. But another, much louder, part of you vehemently argued against the idea. If there was something bad about the necklace, then the brothers would likely take it and destroy it, and the thought of that did not sit well with you. You would just add it to your list of things to research when you got access to their library.

You tugged the necklace on and tucked it beneath your shirt, thankful when there were no impromptu trips to the Void. You and Dean slipped into idle small talk, and you realized that this was the first ‘normal’ conversation you had had with Dean since meeting him two days prior. The last 48 hours had been packed with so many new experiences that it left you reeling when you really thought about it. You had met this man two days ago, and you were already road-tripping with him and his brother. And you thought people in romcoms moved fast... Dean only gave surface answers to your ‘get to know you’ questions, telling you that hunting was a ‘family business’, and he and his brother had been at this for several years. Before you could delve into anything too deep, Sam came back into the room, a brown paper bag in his arms.

“Got some breakfast.”

When you had been promised a library of information about supernatural creatures, your mind had jumped to the mental image of floor-to-ceiling shelves with books packed all along them in a room tucked away in a large Disney-esque mansion. This wasn’t what you had pictured. The library was no less cozy or comfortable looking, though, and even though you didn’t have your Disney princess amount of books, you were certain that there was enough information in the room to keep you busy for a long while. 

Their homebase – the bunker, they called it – was a large, cold-war era industrial-looking complex with winding hallways and all sorts of older looking furnishings. Sam motioned down one of the hallways with doors lining the sides.

“Take your pick,” he said. “Dean’s in 11, and I’m in 21. But all the others are vacant. They’re all identical, but you’re welcome to look through them.” You still peeked into each one of the rooms, not because you doubted what Sam said, but rather because you were curious to explore. Like he had promised, each of them had the same bed, desk, and bedside table in them, with the only variation being where they were in relation to the door. After a short deliberation, you settled on room 16, placing yourself comfortably between their rooms, at least numerically. In practice, the bunker’s layout wasn’t quite as straightforward, and your room physically was closer to Dean’s. But only by a bit. You tossed your suitcase onto the bed, figuring that you would have plenty of time later to unpack before you left and met back up with the brothers.

Dean took it upon himself to give you the grand tour, and you were thankful for it because you were likely going to get very lost in the identical hallways and various doors and rooms. The bunker seemed to have everything. A gun range, a garage full of old cars – was that a 1967 Ford Mustang Fastback? – a kitchen, and the “war room” as Dean called it. Hell, there was even a hidden dungeon with a single chair in it. Dean seemed quite keen on you stepping into the weird symbol drawn onto the ground before moving onto the next room. By the time you made it back to the library, Sam had piled a few books onto one of the tables.

“There’s no rush, but I pulled the books I could think of that had to do with shadow creatures, night creatures, and things that are generally associated with the dark.” He sounded like a kid in a candy store, almost immediately diving into the way the library was sorted when you matched his enthusiasm. Somewhere within these walls had to be the answer you were looking for. It was just going to take some digging. You cracked open the first book. The text was tiny with near illegible handwriting in the margins. You frowned. Correction: this was going to take a lot of digging.

The first week at the bunker took some getting used to. It was clear that the boys weren’t used to having someone of feminine persuasion living in their shared space, at least not Dean. Sam had shared an apartment with a girlfriend of his years ago, although he seemed reluctant to talk about it beyond that. You had walked in on several of Dean’s late night fridge raids when he was clad only in his boxers, and his flushed cheeks and uncharacteristic sheepishness told you that he hadn’t meant for you to see him like that. You learned that Sam had a habit of going on morning runs, and, figuring that you didn’t have anything better to do now that you didn’t have a job, you asked if you could join him. 

That had turned out to be another mistake. 

Sam had long legs which meant that every one of his strides equaled about two of yours. And he had the benefit of having done this for who knows how long before you came to the bunker. After the first day, you had decided that you were going to give yourself a break and take it easy on the research. You would’ve told Sam that you probably weren’t going to join him for any more runs except that he seemed so genuinely happy to have a running buddy. You didn’t have it in you to take that away from him, so you resigned yourself to a new morning routine. Mercifully, Sam slowed down a bit in the following days.

Getting to know the brothers was fun in its own right. They each had their own quirks, of course, but the more time you spent with them, the more you saw the similarities they shared. Sam was the booksmart one, and Dean was more hands on. Between long bouts of research in the library with Sam – occasionally Dean joined in the research too – you spent quite a bit of time with Dean. Sometimes he would teach you things about guns at the range. He would take up a spot right behind you, leaned in close and chest pressed against your back as he would nudge your foot into the right spot for balance. His hands would sit over top of yours, and he would help you aim with the iron sights. Other times, you would sit with Dean in the garage while he worked on the Impala – you learned her name was Baby – and listen to music. It consisted almost entirely of just classic rock. You had heard almost all of the songs he played, but you couldn’t always name them. 

“This one’s easy. It’s Led Zeppelin’s Immigrant Song,” you said as the familiar guitar riff played through the speaker. 

“Thank god you know Led Zeppelin. I think I would’ve had to kick you out if you didn’t,” he said, glancing over at you as he wiped his greasy hands on a rag. 

“Oh please, you wouldn’t do that. I’m way too cute to be kicked out of here.” You stuck your tongue out at him playfully as he shook his head, a light smile playing on his lips. He went back to what he was doing, tossing the rag to the side while he ducked back under Baby’s open hood. He was sweaty and greasy, but you found that it was kind of endearing. He put a lot of effort into making sure Baby was well taken care of. You wondered if he was like that with women he cared about. You could definitely see it in the way he seemed to watch over Sam like a hawk. After a bit, the song changed to another familiar tune you had definitely heard before.

“Okay, what’s this one?” he asked, continuing your guys’ game. You listened closely, knitting your brows together in thought as a piano started playing. You knew it. The song title was rattling around somewhere in the back of your mind, but you couldn’t quite pull it. As the song dipped into the hook, you perked up.

“Ooh, it’s, uh,” you snapped your fingers. It was right there on the tip of your tongue. “It’s the car part cryptid song!” you blurted out. Dean stopped what he was doing, dip stick only half pulled out, and turned to look at you, his expression more confused than you had ever seen him before.

“Car part cryptid?” he repeated slowly, looking at you like you had just grown a second head.

“Yeah! Baba O’Riley!” You grinned triumphantly as the song name rolled off your tongue. Dean’s confusion didn’t waver. Your grin faltered. “Y-you know... Baba like a baba yaga and O’Riley like the auto parts store?” As your explanation sank in, Dean simply sighed and shook his head again, all dimples.

“Why does that make so much sense?” he asked, chuckling to himself as he returned to his work. “Car part cryptid...” you heard him mumble under his breath.

You and Dean had circled each other the entire time you adjusted to living at the bunker, exchanging flirty remarks and quips here and there, but it never seemed to go any further. Neither of you brought up sharing the bed in the motel, and there hadn’t been any offers of a repeat from either party. The initial lust and attraction hadn’t faded, at least not from you. Rather it had been tempered into something more solid. More tangible. Something that could’ve served as a foundation for an actual friendship that was more than just sex. Maybe even a relationship, if that was in the cards. You weren’t going to hold your breath for it. A friendship would be enough. If that’s all he wanted to offer, it was all you would take. 

In the middle of the third week of your stay at the bunker, Sam had called Dean into the War Room, stating that he had found a case several hours north in Nebraska. Just like the ghost in the small town you had stopped at on the way here, you were relegated to stay at the bunker where it was safe. 

“But I’ve been learning so many different things! It’s not like last time,” you had argued.

“We’re teaching you these things so you know how to keep yourself safe. Not so you can join in on the fray. Leave the monsters to us, sweetheart,” Dean had said. You pouted, but he didn’t budge on his decision. As you watched the Impala rumble out of the garage, you decided that your new goal – how many did you have now? – was to become competent enough to join them on a hunt.

Your search for an answer about yourself had hit dead end after dead end. None of the books Sam had set out had anything remotely close to what you potentially were. Anything that had shadow walking abilities didn’t also have the ability to heal and vice versa. It was frustrating, constantly beating your head against a wall with nothing to show for it. You tossed the book you had onto the table and pushed your chair away from it, the legs scraping against the bunker’s wooden flooring. You were getting nowhere. You blew out an exasperated breath, your fingers unconsciously finding the crescent moon pendant you wore. You had made no headway on finding answers, and the strange experience you had had when leaving the pawn shop was little more than a whisper of a memory. You were ready to go crazy if you spent another hour staring at a book. 

It was time for something different.

The boys had been gone for the entire rest of the week and part way into the next, and with each passing day, it had gotten harder and harder to focus on keeping your mind occupied. Their safety was a constant concern, and you spent more than a couple nights laying awake in your bed imagining horrible scenarios involving whatever creature you had read about most recently. They had been courteous enough to send you a text or two each day, updating you that they were still alive and that they’d be back as soon as the hunt was over, but it was incredibly lonely and quiet in the bunker without them. You had even begun missing morning runs with Sam. You had tried keeping the routine a couple of times, but without someone to hold you accountable, there was no motivation to get up early and run. 

Instead, you had spent the better part of the week getting a much better grasp on the limitations of your shadow walking. You had replaced the battery in your light on your keys several times, and the more you Walked, the more confident you became with it. Previously, it had been like jumping into a pool with both feet every time you Stepped into the void. But as you practiced, it became more like a gentle wade into the shadows. You found that you could move through the bunker in the shadows the same way you could in your home, but you were unable to cross the bunker’s threshold in the shadows. With your light flashing just beyond the open door to the bunker, you had tried moving into it but found yourself stopped by some sort of invisible barrier. Concerned that you might have locked yourself out of the safe house, you exited the shadows and were relieved to find that you could still physically enter without issue. Sam had told you that the bunker was warded from just about everything, and no creature or entity could enter through supernatural means. Apparently, that included your Shadow Walking. 

There were all sorts of different weapons in the bunker, and you had tested just about everything with a sharp edge, thinking that if you could find something you couldn’t heal from, then that might help in narrowing down what you were. The search hadn’t proved fruitful though. You tried a few different knives you found, one of the axes in the library, and even went so far as to try a couple of the paring knives in the kitchen. None of them left a lasting mark, and you cursed having put yourself through the pain for nothing. When you read the same sentence for the fourth time and still didn’t comprehend the words, it was your sign that you needed to put the book down and call it a day on the research. Another day with no progress. You were way past just being sick of it. You needed something that was mind-numbing in a different way.

It was a short trek back to your room, and you popped in one of the DVDs Dean had insisted that you needed to watch. Westerns had never been your go-to genre, but Dean liked them. You couldn’t really say you had ever given them a fair chance, so you owed it to yourself to at least give it a try. You dozed off within the first twenty minutes of the movie. Your phone’s ping woke you, and the clock on it read 9:43pm.

Not dead, on our way back. ETA 2 hours

Sam’s text was a relief to see. You were about ready to go stir crazy if you had to spend another day completely alone in the bunker. You had grown so used to having them around that their absence almost felt like you were missing a limb. You took a quick wake-up shower and were already in the garage when the Impala rolled in. Your excitement over seeing them was cut short when they stepped out of the car. Dean’s jacket was half shredded, and he had several cuts across his face, chest, and arms, and it looked like one eye was swollen shut. Sam had a busted lip and walked with a limp. Your eyes dropped down to a blood stained bandage wrapped just below his knee.

“Oh my god, what happened?” Dean tucked himself under Sam’s arm on his good side and helped support him.

“Rough night,” Dean said. You thought he might have been trying for his signature smile that always made your stomach flutter, but it was tainted by a grimace as they progressed further into the bunker. 

“I’ll meet you guys in the infirmary,” you said, darting to the kitchen and grabbing a bowl. As you stepped into the infirmary, your jaw practically hit the floor. Dean had his back to you as he helped Sam up onto the blue medical bed. “You drove all the way back here with that?” There were claw marks that dragged from his shoulder blade across his back and disappeared below the waistband of his jeans. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks. You fix up Sammy, and I’ll have him stitch me back together,” Dean’s tone was nonchalant, but you had picked up over the weeks that Dean didn’t like to let on whenever he was hurting. This was likely no different.

“Oh no you don’t. Neither of you are leaving this room until I’m done with you.” And it was your turn to put your foot down. You had read through a medical textbook on and off during your research time, learning how to properly identify and dress wounds. Initially, you had questioned Sam why you would ever need that knowledge if you could just bleed into whatever wound he or Dean had and solve the issue. Sam had insisted it was good knowledge to have regardless of super healing abilities, and you had to admit that you were starting to understand why.

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean affirmed, surprising you with his compliance.

You held your hand over the glass bowl, blood dripping down your fingers as you squeezed and pushed more blood out of the wound before it closed up. You cleaned Sam’s leg wound with a damp cloth and rubbing alcohol before dipping your thumb in the bowl and swiping your blood over the deep gash that had torn through his calf. He grunted through gritted teeth as you repeated it twice more, each pass encouraging the skin and muscle to knit back together. After the fourth time, the wound had disappeared, leaving fresh, slightly pink skin in its wake. 

“Do you want...?” you motioned to Sam’s busted lip, and he shook his head.

“I’m good. Thank you.” He tested his leg, bending and unbending it a couple of times. When he was confident about it, he got off the medical bed, tentatively placing his weight on his leg. “Still sore,” he reported, “but way better than it was. Thank you, again.” You nodded before turning to Dean who seemed transfixed by watching you mend Sam with ease.

“Alright, you’re up next, you big, bad hunter.”

“Oh, I’m good,” he waved you off with a hand. “You don’t gotta bleed for me, sweetheart.”

“Nu-uh. I said you’re not leaving, and I meant it. Get on the bed or so help me God I will strap you to it.”

“Ooh, kinky.” He quirked his eyebrows up suggestively, and you pinched the bridge of your nose. Sam excused himself from the room with a quiet,

“I’m just gonna let you two be.”

“Just get up there,” you ordered, pointing at the bed. “Sam, can you grab a bag of frozen peas?” you called after him, still hearing his retreating footsteps. He made a vague affirmative noise somewhere down the hall.

Dean relented and seated himself on the bed. You looked him over, mentally cataloging his injuries. 

“I think it would be better if you took off what’s left of your jacket and shirt for this,” you said softly. Blood soaked both garments, and they were likely going out with the trash in the upcoming week. There wasn’t much of a chance to save them. 

“First demanding that I get on the bed, and now you’re telling me to strip? Careful, sweetheart. Keep this up and I might think you’re into me.” Despite his teasing, Dean moved to obey. When he tossed his shirt and jacket onto the bed, your strictly medical gaze slipped. Even bloodied and cut up, Dean looked good. Hunting clearly kept him in shape, and while you had felt his body pressed against yours before, it felt like a completely different ball game seeing him like this. 

If Dean caught you staring, he didn’t say anything. You grabbed a new cloth and dipped it in the warm water you had prepared, setting about cleaning each one of the cuts across his skin. There was a tattoo over his left pec, and you were pretty sure you had seen the symbol in one of the books you read through. Which one exactly eluded you at the moment, though. Sam returned with the bag of peas partway through you cleaning the blood from the wounds on Dean’s back, and Dean pressed the bag against his swollen eye. Sam said a quiet good night, and you paused in your treatment of Dean to give Sam a hug. 

“Maybe let’s skip tomorrow’s morning run?” you said, looking up at him. He smiled, briefly squeezing you back.

“Yeah, I think I can afford to take a day off.”

You methodically worked your way up Dean’s arms, painting blood over each and every individual cut and wiping away the excess with another clean cloth. Your fingers trailed over his cuts for medical purposes and ran over the veins of his forearm for more selfish desires. It was oddly intimate in a way you hadn’t expected. When you had helped him with his wounds from the vampire, you had seen him shirtless then as well. But this time, Sam wasn’t there as a sort of buffer, and there was more for you to mend. You could feel Dean watching you work, and you tried not to squirm under the weight of it. Could he see through you? It felt like he could. Felt like he could see the way your heart skipped a beat when he looked at you or the way your fingers dragged against his skin longer than they needed to. When you moved to his back, you were thankful for the weight of his heavy gaze lifting. When you brushed your thumb along the first deep cut on his back, Dean sucked in a sharp breath. You immediately pulled your hand back, fearing that you might have hurt him, but he urged you to continue with a soft,

“Sorry, I’m good.” You took your time with each laceration, starting with the top one and working your way down with care. Up close, you could see that there were freckles dotted across his back, and you endeavored to memorize all of them. His skin was warm beneath your touch, and your fingers lingered on him for seconds longer, not willing to let the moment be over so quickly. When you reached the lowest wound, the one that dipped beneath his waistband, you hesitated.

“This last one goes a little lower,” you said. Dean looked at you over his shoulder.

“Is this you telling me that I need to lose my pants too?” 

You had managed to tamp down your embarrassment up until this point in the name of stitching Dean up. However, his comment broke through the paper thin wall you had put up, and you jerked your hand away from him.

“Wha- no, you d- that’snotwhatImeant!” Despite your floundering, you heard the distinct sound of metal clinking as Dean made quick work of his belt. To your relief, though, rather than discarding his pants entirely, he slid the back of them down enough to reveal the last bit of the claw mark that ended just above the cleft of his ass. You swallowed and took a steadying breath as you worked on the last wound. As your fingers dragged along the length of it, your blood working its magic and encouraging the skin to repair itself, you couldn’t help but notice two dimples that mirrored each other on his lower back. They were subtle, but as your fingers ghosted over them, you felt the slight dip of them. They were adorable.

And now you were always going to think about Dean Winchester’s lower back dimples when he smiled.

“Okay, I think that’s the worst of it. Did you want me to get the ones on your face?” You stepped around the bed to face him and impressed yourself with your ability to string together a coherent sentence with thoughts of his well toned back dancing in your mind. Dean set the bag of peas on the bed next to him. The swelling of his eye seemed to have gone down some, but it would likely take another day or so before it was fully back to normal. You weren’t sure if your healing abilities extended to swelling like that, and if they did, you didn’t have the faintest idea of how you would apply your blood to it.

“Nah, you’ve done more than enough, sweetheart. Thank you,” he said your name earnestly. There was a warmth in his voice that you hadn’t heard before, and it spread through you, enveloping you like a blanket. You clung to it. 

“Of course, Dean. Anytime.” And you meant it. Wounds were something you could fix, and you were more than willing to help either brother if it was within your skillset. There was a beat of silence between you. “Anyway, it’s late, and I’m sure you’re exhausted. You should get some rest.” You set about discarding the cotton balls and gauze you had used.

“What, Sam gets a good night hug, and I don’t?” You met his gaze, and there was a curious half-smile tugging one side of his lips upwards, though it wasn’t enough for the small divet in his cheek to show. It almost seemed bashful in nature.

You wiped your hand on the cloth you held before moving to stand in front of him, right between his slightly parted legs. You didn’t miss the way both ends of his belt rested against his thighs or his unzipped fly or the dark color of his boxers peeking out from beneath the denim. You’d stay here forever if he asked it of you. Had you missed your chance with him? Did you even have a chance in the first place? Flirty Dean seemed to be a default setting, if the way he interacted with the cashier at the corner store was anything to go off of. He probably had women falling for him left and right, and you were just another casualty. Dean pulled you into his arms and out of your thoughts, and instinctively, you returned the hug, soaking in his heat and closeness. This would be enough for you. You felt him take a breath in like he was going to say something, but he hesitated and instead you felt him press a kiss to the top of your head.

“Good night, Dean. Welcome back.”

“Good night, sweetheart.”

Dean groaned as he rolled his shoulder, trying to loosen the uncomfortable tightness there. He kicked the door to the shower room closed behind him before stripping down and stepping under the hot spray. It felt good to be back. The motel showers couldn’t compare to the bunker’s, and returning to the motel room that didn’t have you there had sparked a strange feeling of disappointment in him that he wasn’t prepared to face. Nevermind that he had foregone staying a final night in the town before driving back to the bunker. He hadn’t admitted to Sam that he had been chomping at the bit to get back to the bunker. To you. And watching you take care of Sam without a second thought did things to him long before your hands had even touched him. When that had happened, he wasn’t expecting just how tender you would be with him. He was used to Sam’s terse “suck it up”s and “you’ve had worse; this is nothing”s. You hadn’t said any of that. You had taken care of him. Hell, you bled for him and Sam. Again. And he hadn’t needed to ask. Not that he ever would have. He didn’t want to ask anything of you because everything he wanted felt like it was more than you would be willing to give.

But he already had asked.

You had momentarily stopped focusing on him to give Sam a hug before he turned in for the night, but when you were done patching him back together, you had been so ready to dismiss him without so much as a pat on the back. The fact that he had to ask for a hug when you had freely given one to Sam? That stung a bit. More than a bit. How sad was that? A girl showed him a little bit of kindness, and he was jealous that he had to ask for a hug. But he hadn’t been ready to give up that modicum of physical touch you had given him. 

And he had almost slipped up a second time in the next breath. Almost asked you to stay with him for the night. Almost asked for too much. Instead, he tucked it all into a neat little gift and left it with you in a kiss. If there were a god out there that gave a shit about him, then maybe they’d whisper to you in your sleep and you would deign to give him another one of your brilliant, unburdened smiles or touch him again with hands that were soft and untainted by the horrors of the world.

Dean swore he could still feel the echoes of your touch on his skin. Did you know? Did it feel the same when your wounds sealed up? Did your skin tingle with a soothing warmth as a cut stitched back together the same way his had? Did you feel the same rush that shot through him whenever you dragged a finger over him, leaving nothing short of a miracle behind with every touch? He doubted it. If he understood it right, you had grown up with your healing ability which meant it was as natural as breathing was for you. What would you do when you had your answer? A hunter’s life wasn’t for you. You deserved a normal, safe life with a partner and kids if that was what you wanted. Surely once you had your answer, you would leave. Once your curiosity was sated, there wouldn’t be any other reason for you to stay. So he would just have to cherish however much time he had left with you.

When Dean stepped out of the shower and pulled on a fresh t-shirt and sweatpants, he spotted a familiar looking stone sitting on the counter. He picked it up, running his thumb run over the smooth suface of the crescent. It was warm in his hand, likely from the heat of the steam from his shower, and as he turned it over in his palm, it thrummed against his skin. His immediate instinct was to throw it against the opposite wall. In his experience, nothing good ever came from an object that did something when it was picked up. Against his better judgement, though, he didn’t. You had had the necklace for weeks, and there hadn’t been any strange occurrences or any change in your demeanor that set off alarm bells in his head. It didn’t rule out the possibility of something playing the long game, but Dean had seen the way you kept it close like a security blanket. He couldn’t justify destroying it on little more than a wild assumption. 

He gathered up his belongings and dropped them off in his room before continuing down the hall to the closed door marked ‘16.’ He knocked, waited for a few moments, then knocked again. You didn’t answer, and he should’ve just left it at that. He should’ve been happy with all the attention and care you had already given him tonight. But he was selfish and weak. So he didn’t do what he should have done. 

Dean quietly pushed the door to your room open, thankful when the hinges were silent and didn’t betray his entrance. He spotted your flashing keys on the bedside table, and he couldn’t stop from smiling as he realized that he hadn’t had a chance to show you what he had picked up while on the hunt. He was certain that you’d smile when you saw it. Sam hadn’t let him live it down when he saw it attached to Baby’s keys. You were laying on your side, facing the door, and Dean couldn’t help but wonder just how you managed to sleep with flashing lights in your face. It was probably another thing you had just done for as long as you remembered. At least after you had gotten lost the first time. 

He couldn’t help himself. Dean stared at your sleeping form, mesmerized by the way the shadows created by your light danced across your face. It was as though they had a mind of their own and seemed to fall in just the right way to accentuate your features. Your expression was so peaceful as you slept. Not an ounce of a hunter’s instinct keeping you with a foot in the waking world in case something happened. He wanted to keep it that way. If he had it his way, you would never lose sleep worrying about being attacked in the middle of the night. He had made a promise to keep you safe, and he intended to keep it.

Dean pulled your necklace from the pocket of his pants and froze on the spot when he saw it. The pendant gave off a soft glow. It wasn’t bright or vibrant, though. It was more akin to a black light. The glow was dark, almost purple in appearance. Had it been doing that when he found it in the showers? A sense of unease crept into the back of his mind as he moved to hold the necklace by the braided leather cord rather than the pendant itself just in case. As it dangled from his fingers, he eyed it carefully, half expecting something more to happen. He sprinted back to his room, grabbing for the gun beneath his pillow, and when he looked back at the crescent moon, the glowing had stopped. Just to be doubly sure, he turned off the light in his room. 

Still no glow.

He took slow, deep breaths as he eyed the necklace, waiting for something – anything – to happen. Nothing did. He walked back towards your room, watching all the while. When he crossed the threshold of your room, the glow was back. And when he dared to stand beside your bed, the glow was at its brightest. He needed Castiel to give him answers because Dean couldn’t in good conscience let you keep wearing it without knowing what it was doing. He muttered a quiet apology before leaving and closing the door behind him, the leather cord of the necklace wrapped around his hand.

---

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Taglist: @wendichester @checkedoutghost @jacxx2

Want to join the taglist? Ask away!

Part 3 --- Part 5

[thesilmarillionblog]

WASTE ── series masterlist. (COMPLETE.)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 61.102

Warnings: +18!, SMUT!, loss of virginity, unrequited love, heavy angst, hurt, drama, jealousy, sexual tension, painful, confessions

Trope: Friends to Lovers Ao3 Link is here.

♱ Waste: Chapter: 1 ♱ Waste: Special Chapter 1

♱ Waste: Chapter: 2 ♱ Waste: Special Chapter 2 (Soon)

♱ Waste: Chapter: 3 ♱ Waste: Special Chapter 3 (Soon)

♱ Waste: Chapter: 4

♱ Waste: Chapter: 5

♱ Waste: Chapter: 6

THE PLAYLIST 🎧

1- Waste by Kxllswxtch

2- It Takes A Lot to Know A Man by Damien Rice

3- Honeythief by Halou

4- Now the One You Once Loved Is Leaving by Lydia

5- Deathbeds by Bring Me the Horizon

[allthosepeopleilovetofangirlover]

DATING DEAN WINCHESTER HEADCANONS

Dean is the guy who'd pretend that he's the best in the entire universe, but he'll get nervous if he ever sees someone slightly more attractive than him.

He loves to watch movies with you, even more so if they're of his choice. Cuddling on the couch in the Bunker and watching a movie is his favourite evening activity, and he's constantly looking at your face throughout the movie to see if you like it or not.

Dean doesn't want you to accompany him on hunts, especially if the creature you have to hunt happens to be particularly dangerous, like a vampire or a werewolf.

He'll never try to control you, but he will get insanely protective of you and you have had many arguments based on that.

Arguments that almost always get resolved by angry sex or intense makeout sessions.

But for the ones that don't, you two eventually find your way back to each other.

He'll never admit it, but he loves it when you treat him with affection and give him flowers.

If it wasn't obvious, Dean is touch-starved, and you figure it out very soon into your relationship. You make sure to give him reassuring touches ever so often, especially in the times of stress.

Dean is very grateful for those touches, and keeps reciprocating the gesture, but in a much wilder way.

He is very possessive, and will glare daggers at anyone who stares at you for too long. Men who know him know how dangerous he is, and how well he can fight, so they stay away from you. But the strangers who try to look at you in any way other than respect, Dean will not hesitate to throw punches.

For all his playboy ways, he's extremely loyal to you. Will not even look at any other girl when you're in the picture. You're the only one he wants and needs.

Dean likes to pull pranks on you. They're harmless, obviously. He loves to see that adorable expression on your face when you don't know what's wrong when you're being pranked. Once you realise it however, it doesn't take a lot of time for that expression to go from adorable to angry.

You love to pull pranks on him as well, often teaming up with Sam to teach his older brother a lesson. Sam loves it, and though Dean pretends to be angry and offended, he's laughing on the inside.

Frequent rides in the Impala, especially when it's drizzling and a cool breeze is blowing. He just likes to go on long drives with you, no distance is too long with you by his side.

Dean tells you stories of his childhood, yes, even the bad ones. The good ones to get a good laugh while the bad ones for you to get more acquainted with his reality, to know who he really is.

He had taken a lot, and I mean a LOT of time to open up emotionally, it was extremely difficult for him to not be guarded at all times. But nothing is too difficult when it comes to you.

Now, he opens up to you and talks to you about how he feels, instead of hiding his real emotions behind corny jokes and sarcasm.

Whenever you get mad at him, he immediately gets to know and tries his best to make sure that you aren't mad, the process including more corny jokes but you learned to love them anyway.

Sam loves the way you have a positive effect on his brother, how you calm him down from both anger and stress, how you make him less reckless and more affectionate.

The most important thing however, is the fact that you make him less self-destructive. He takes a lot of care of you, but along with you, he has started to learn how to cherish and love himself as well.

You bring out the best in him, and he brings out the best in you.

You're his yin, and he's your yang. Both of you wouldn't have it any other way.

[sylvia-plaths-fig-pie]

Quiet days ♡ Sam Winchester

Moments like this were rare.

Moments where the world stopped for just a moment, and it felt like maybe, just maybe there was peace and quiet. Well, almost anyways.

You knew what awaited you when you woke up. You knew there would be a mew string of bodies, and other salt and burn or a demonic possession. But right now you were being selfish. You'd earnt it, or at least that's what you tell yourself in order to enjoy these moments.

Sam was still asleep, his arms tightly wrapped around your waist, his hair slightly messy, an imperceptible smile on his face.

It was rare moments like these that you longed for.

It had been almost three months exactly since you and Sam actually admitted how you felt about eachother. It was years in the making. But then one night after a particularly hard hitting case everything was laid out. You finally showed hom your cards.

And that was the fist time Sam Winchester kissed you.

His lips soft and delicate, trying to communicate everything that he couldn't say, eveything that was simply too much for words to convey. Years of longing and hope finally came to fruition.

It had been bliss ever since. Well, as much bliss as can be afforded on the road. But you had eachother, and that was all that mattered.

"What you thinking about?" Sam mumbled pulling you closer to him woth his arm tucked around your waist as he placed a kiss on your hair.

"Nothin'," you sighed, surrendering yourself to his embrace.

"Love?" The name rolled of his tongue as if he'd been calling you this his whole life, it still made you blush, maybe that's why he always called you love. "Talk to me, even if it's utter nonsense I still want to know what's going on in that pretty little head of yours."

You turned in his arms and looked him in the eyes.

"It's just, this is all I ever wanted," you paused, drinking in his early morning smile, "The white picket fence, kids and a dog, the perfect life, a normal career. All of it means nothing if I dint have moments like this with you. Moments of slow peaceful bliss."

His eyes softened as he began to smile.

"God I love you," he mumbled as he tilted his head to kiss you.

His lips brushing yours for just a second when you began to pull away.

He began to pout, gazing at you with his infamous puppy dog eyes that made you simply melt. "what?" He questioned, feigning hurt.

"Brush your teeth, you have morning breath." You commented, smiling ever so softly.

He rolled his eyes and groaned at your remark as his head fell back onto the pillows melodramatically.

"Five more minutes," he mumbled tucking his head into the cruck of you neck pulling you impossibly closer.

Moments like this may be rare, but they were one of the most precious thing in the world, second only to the brunet man who lay beside you and saw his whole world when he looked in your eyes.

[deanscherrypie420]

𝑼𝒔

A/N: Another Cas fic was highly voted for so here it is! My friend helped me with the ideas! Hope you enjoy <3 (Also PETITION FOR MORE CAS GIFS)

Characters: Castiel, Reader Y/N, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester

Pairing: Castiel X Reader

Warnings: Fluff. That's all I have to say. Lots of fluff.

Summary: You and Castiel have been friends for a little while. You've grown so close and often do everything together. Of course, it doesn't take long for the Winchesters to notice, and after a nice day with Cas, true feelings arise.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N was in the kitchen making breakfast, scrambled eggs and bacon for everyone. Slowly but surely, the boys began making there way to the table, sitting and chatting about a possible hunt.

When she turned around, she smiled at the sight. She walked over with the pan and scooped food into each of their plates. "Don't worry Sam, the fake bacon is on the stove." She teased him and he rolled his eyes, standing up to fix his plate.

"It's not fake bacon, it's healthier." He muttered and Dean laughed. Once they all sat down and began eating they started discussing a case.

Y/N glanced over and noticed Castiel had finished all of his food. "Damn, Angel. That was quick." She received a small smile and a nod in return, motioning towards the food. "It was good."

The brothers looked at each other for a moment, Dean raising a brow and Sam shaking his head. "Cas, I thought you-" He started, but the younger Winchester cleared his throat obnoxiously loud and gave Dean a tense smile. "We thought you could come with us on the case."

Y/N picked up her beer and rolled her eyes, not buying their bullshit. Castiel's face contorted, a puzzled expression creasing his features. "I almost always go with you, why wouldn't I now?"

"No reason, Cas. Just makin' sure." Dean finished before grabbing his plate and setting it in the sink. "I'm gonna go get ready, meet you guys out by the car in thirty."

She got up and grabbed everyone's plate, rinsing them off in the sink before washing her hands and retreating to her bedroom. Castiel was already there, handing her the bag he packed for her.

"Cas, I am fully capable of packing my own shit." She said as she searched through the luggage, making sure she had everything she needed.

"I know, but I like to make things easier for you." He stated and she smiled up at him. "Thanks. Now let's go, I want shotgun." The angel laughed and walked her outside, his hand on her back the whole way.

Unfortunately, Sam had beat her to the front seat and she groaned. "Seriously, Winchester! You always sit shotgun, let me have a turn!" She whined and Castiel frowned at her.

"You don't like sitting with me?" He asked and she quickly shook her head. "No, no, I just-... Fuck. Fine." She stammered, reluctantly getting into the back.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When they arrived in Oklahoma, the brothers went to scout out a motel and insisted Cas and Y/N take a look around the area for anything suspicious.

The town was actually quite nice. Bright sun, markets on every block, pretty houses. While they were walking Castiel noticed a flower shop and motioned towards it. "Do you like flowers?" He questioned, and she nodded.

"Yeah, they're pretty. Do you?" She asked back, and he nodded as well. They crossed the street and went inside, the fresh scent of blooming plants flooding her senses.

"Do you want me to buy you flowers?" The angel offered and she smiled up at him. "No, Dean would be pissed if he found out we wasted our time here." She laughed a little at the thought and kept walking around, admiring the beautiful bouquets.

"But I don't think we're wasting time..." He murmured to himself with a small frown. After a moment he quickly followed her out of the store, earning a weird glance from the cashier.

"Y/N," He started and she glanced up at him. He pulled a bundle of purple flowers out from his trench-coat and handed them to her. "I wanted to get you flowers. Dean can't be mad if I didn't spend money."

She felt her cheeks warm as she studied the purple petals. "Castiel, you are aware you just stole from a shop, right?" She chuckled as he bit his lip to think. "Well, that's okay. I'm sure they can grow more."

The two of them laughed as they wandered through streets, the conversations flowing naturally. After a while she checked her phone and sighed. "We should probably get back to them."

"But they haven't called us. They said they would call us if they needed us." The angel bargained, glancing at her phone to see the time as well. "And it's not even that late." He added.

"Don't argue with me, Angel." She teased and he scratched the back of his head with a nervous laugh. "Thank you for the flowers, by the way."

"Of course. They reminded me of you." He responded and she quirked a brow. "Why is that?"

"Because they're beautiful."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After a few nights, they finally could call this a successful hunt. They went out to celebrate at a diner, Dean in the mood for nothing but pie and beer.

After the waitress came by and took everyone's order, Y/N nudged Cas. "You didn't order anything, do you want to share my plate." He shook his head and squeezed her leg. "No, I don't eat food."

"What do you mean? You eat food all the time." She questioned, a suspicious look on her face. "I don't need food. It all tastes like molecules, so I don't really care for it."

She raised a brow, confusion evident in her expression. "You eat my food." Her voice was raised at the end, as if it were a question. He nodded and smiled down at her, "I care about you."

The two Winchesters looked at each other, Dean obviously grossed out. "Get a room you two." Sam bickered and Dean widened his eyes in agreement. "For not liking food you sure do love the cheesy shit." He muttered.

"I love Y/N." Castiel said in an attempt to defend himself, but the table quickly went silent. Sam and Dean looked at each other with raised brows before glancing over at her.

"Was that inappropriate?" Castiel mumbled as he looked over at her, a slightly uncomfortable look in his eyes. She shook her head and let out an airy laugh. "No, it-... It's perfectly fine. I love you too, Cas."

The brothers broke out in an obnoxious celebration, laughing and nearly yelling at the two of them. "You lucky son of bitch!" Dean hooted, and Sam clapped his hands together in a laughing fit. "Oh that was adorable!"

Castiel looked over at her again, a bit concerned. "Why are they acting weird?" He questioned. "Because they're immature little boys." She retorted, not giving a care in the world. She moved forward and kissed the angel, a soft and quick kiss.

"I love you, Y/N."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: yippee. This took me a lot of motivation but I finally finished it. THANK YOU @m1zumon6 FOR THE HELP <3 I'm sorry I didn't let them eat grass 😔

I hope you all enjoyed!

Follow, like and leave feedback! Feel free to send requests <3

[supernaturallyafreak]

Yeah hey I need this rn

[charliesangel67]

This is just a short smutty drabble bc I couldn't go to bed last night without writing it.

Sam Winchester x fem!reader

“Mmh, fuck. Right there Sammy.” I groaned as Sam's fingers worked my soaking wet cunt. “You like that baby?” He asked, leaning down to place a kiss on my lips. “Mmh” I managed, the pleasure of his long fingers curling inside me taking away my ability to speak clearly. “I'm gonna need you to use your words sweetheart.” He responded, stopping his thrusts. I groaned in response when I felt Sam's fingers exit my heat completely.

I sat up on the bed, facing Sam and traced my fingertips along his chest and abs all the way down to his pants. Tugging at his belt, edging him to take it off. When his clothes were discarded, I pumped his cock a couple times before leaning down and taking him all in my mouth. His tip hitting the very back of my throat causing me to gag, the sweet moans coming out of Sam's mouth. Groans and pleas of my name.

I went faster, taking every single inch, feeling his thick cock fill up my mouth. Sam tugged on my hair “Fuck baby, I'm gonna cum” I felt his cock twitch in my mouth, I went faster, playing with his balls, bringing him to the edge quicker. Lastly, a loud moan escaped Sam's mouth “Mmmh, fuck baby. That was so good.” as he came inside my mouth. His hot cum dripping down my throat and down my chin.

@deadlymistletoe @gracehateseggnog

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

In Case I Do Something Stupid

Pairing: Dean Winchester x f!reader, Reader POV and Dean POV

Summary:  When Dean sends you a surprise in the mail and starts acting weird, you're worried that he's hiding something from you, but is it really what you think? This is part three of my "Before You Go" series.

Tropes: Angst, Fluff, Age Difference, (Reader is early to mid-20's and Dean is probably early 30's), Established Relationship

Word Count: 4.7K

Warnings: There is some swearing (only a few times), implied reference of past sex (once or twice), Dean might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

This fic includes song lyrics that are in italics, bold font, and are indented.

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Reader POV

"Did you get it?" Dean asks.

You're standing in front of your mailbox in the lobby of your apartment, cradling the phone between your shoulder and neck while you sort through your mail. There were a lot more bills than you were hoping for.

It had been a long day and all you really wanted was to go lie down, but you had a test in the morning, which meant that you wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon.

It had been two months since the whole “Cooper” thing and despite Dean’s insistence for you to come over to the bunker if he ever showed his face, Cooper hadn’t appeared once.

Of course that meant that Suze was out of the apartment more to spend time with him, wherever it was he lived. Neither of you had spoken about the incident, not since the morning after when Dean was asleep and you snuck out to make coffee before he woke up and you ran into her. You remember the dark circles under her eyes and  the way her face was red and puffy from crying. You hadn’t known what to say so you nodded a “good morning” and walked back into your bedroom with coffee for you and Dean.

Dean was trying to convince you to move out, but the rent was so cheap you didn’t think you’d be able to find anything better. But with the summer approaching quickly, that meant you could spend more time at the bunker with Dean.

An elderly woman breezes through the main lobby of the apartment building, wearing a bright purple tracksuit. "Hi honey"

"Hi Mrs. Travis." You respond, holding off from answering Dean.

"Where's your special friend?" She smiles widely at you.

The last time Dean had visited, Mrs. Travis asked him to come help her unclog her drain. You and Mrs. Travis sat at her kitchen table together watching Dean work under the sink while eating mass quantities of chocolate chip cookies. You'd been over to see her a few times since, and each time she told you that Dean reminded her of her husband and would ask you when he was coming back.

"He's at home this week."

"What a shame. Tell him to come back anytime. I'll make some of those cookies for him again." She smiles before continuing on to the elevator.

"Who was that?"

"Your wife." You snort into the phone.

"Oh she's the best. Those cookies were so good." Dean moans. "Can you please bring some of those when you come this weekend?"

"I'll see what I can do." You sift through the mail in your hand. There's a collection of bills and a large green make-shift envelope that has been duct taped together with thick silver tape to cradle the contents.

"But did you get it?" Dean asks again.

"By "it" do you mean a creepy duct taped envelope? Because yes I did." You hold it by the corner turning it over to see Dean's untidy scrawl in black sharpie over the front of it.

This looks like a kindergartener made it. You imagine Dean sitting at his desk in the bunker with a pair of scissors, his tongue between his teeth in concentration and smile to yourself.

"Okay good." Dean sounds relieved.

"I could have just picked whatever this is up this weekend."

"You're telling me that you don't like getting mail?"

"I like getting mail, but this looks like a ransom note. Is someone holding you hostage? Because if that’s happening I don’t have any money and I'm sure you'll be fine." You smile, trying to find a way to open it, but the duct tape was thwarting you.

"No it’s not a ransom note." Dean pauses on the other side of the line. "Wait, you wouldn’t pay money for me?" 

"I mean. Maybe?" You shrug as if he could see you, smiling wide at the envelope.

"That’s reassuring."

"Alright so you’re saying that if I was being held for ransom, you’d give them Baby for me?"

Dean doesn't answer. You can hear him mulling it over in his head, but you already know the answer to that question. You knew that Baby always comes first.

“That’s a long pause Dean.”

"I’m sure the connection is bad. Because I did answer-" Dean begins to say.

"How is the connection bad?" You interrupt, raising an eyebrow.

He tries again. "I’m driving through a tunnel?" It comes out like a question and you can’t help but laugh at his attempts to cover his mistake.

"I thought you said you were back at the bunker."

"Well, then the reception here sucks." He finishes and you can hear the smile in his voice.

You sigh to yourself. The last time you'd seen Dean was only a week ago, but it wasn't enough. Long distance was hard, but you felt that you both were giving it your all. Not to mention that this weekend you were coming to see him at the bunker, and it was a long weekend, which meant you both didn't have to rush.

"Uh-huh. Sure. If I get kidnapped I’m just gonna call Sam.”

"We are definitely off topic.” Dean sighs. “But you did get it?”

“Yes Dean I did. Whatever it is." You trace a finger over the silver taped edge. "Is this construction paper? Dean, you are a grown man, why do you have construction paper?”

“There’s a lot of old shit in this bunker.”

“For your birthday I’m getting you envelopes.”

"Sexy."

You roll your eyes, but finally break through the paper and pull out a bright yellow and black contraption. “You bought me a Walkman?”

Dean had previously bought you a cassette tape player that was on your desk in your apartment so you could listen to the mixtapes he made. Dean often made you mixtapes of his favorite songs, most of which you knew given you had almost the same taste in music, but each time you listened to one of his tapes it was like he was there in the room with you. It made the distance between you less when you missed him.

"Where did you even get a Walkman?" You ask.

"I told you there's a lot of old shit in this bunker." He laughs. "But this way you can listen to the mixtapes when you go to class or when you're at the library.” He says it nonchalant, but there's an edge to his voice that you don't understand.

I wonder if he's worried about something.

The thought makes you worry about him. Dean worried about a lot of things, but he usually kept it to himself. You figured it was because of his dad. You didn’t know too much about Dean’s father, only that he was dead and that he put a lot of responsibility and pressure on Dean’s shoulders when it came to Sam and the job he did, which forced Dean to be more guarded and unable to admit when he needed help. You of course, were very good at reading him and whenever Dean was worried, you made it a point to have him talk to you about it, even if you didn't have a suggestion. You wanted him to be comfortable letting his walls down. You needed him to know that you were there for him and that he didn’t need to carry the burden alone no matter how heavy it was.

You examine the Walkman, running your thumb against each black button that line along the top and against the smooth plastic edges. “That was very thoughtful. Thanks Dean.”

“You’re welcome.” He pauses. “I-uh- also included a new tape.”

“Oh cool. I can't wait to listen to it. I loved the last one."  You pop out the cassette and look at the label.

Dean always came up with ridiculous names that made you laugh, names like "Psyched to See You Mix Vol 1," and "It's a Good Day to Call Dean."

This one was called "In Case I Do Something Stupid."

"I love the name. Does it mean that this is just a pre-recorded blanket apology if you're not careful on a hunt-"

"No it's not."

"Uh-huh." You put the tape back into the Walkman.

“But for this one, when you listen to it, can you call me? I really want to know what you think.” Dean continues.

“If it’s another 8 minute drum solo of Moby Dick-“

“It's not and it hurts me that you didn’t like it. But promise that you’ll call after you listen to it.”

“It wasn't bad. And will there be a test?” You tease him, confused that he's so adamant about you calling him after you listen. Whenever Dean gave you a mixtape he was excited to know what you thought, but was usually more nonchalant about it.

"No." Dean laughs, but it doesn't sound right. "I just want to know what you think."

"Well I can bring it with me when I come this weekend and we can listen to it together-"

"NO!" Dean exclaims. "I mean-um- you should listen to it now and call me." He recovers stumbling over his words.

"Okay." You draw it out confused as to why he is acting so weird. "I will take detailed notes over all of the songs and tell you how much I loved them."

“Okay.” Dean pauses again. “Um y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“I- I’m gonna be at the bunker for a few days researching so you can call me anytime-“ He says it quickly, not in the cool and collected way he usually spoke.

“Dean are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure? You sound a little weird."

"I'm sure it's just the connection." Dean pauses again. "I-"

"Dean?"

“I miss you.” He says it hesitantly, and for a second you think that he was going to say something else.

“I miss you too. I promise I’ve just got the one test and then I’ll be there this weekend.”

"Okay."

"Okay."

You could feel the three little words hovering on the tip of your tongue, the three little words you would have gladly told him five months ago when you first started officially dating. You knew that you were in love with Dean, had been in love with him from the moment your eyes locked with his, but the problem was that you'd never said it to anyone else. Of course you'd never felt about anyone the way you felt about him. He was kind, caring, sexy, protective, and just the right amount of batshit crazy that always kept you guessing.

I miss him so much.

Dean hadn’t said it either. But you understood that he was a little slow when it came to stuff like that and it wasn’t that you thought he didn’t love you. Dean said it plenty of other ways. Not to mention you figured he probably also hadn’t said it to anyone before and might be afraid to admit it aloud.

"I'll see you this weekend okay?" You sigh into the phone while wishing that Dean was there to hold you.

"Can't wait. Bye Sweetheart."

"Bye Dean."

Three days pass and you still haven’t listened to the tape. Honestly you forgot about it,  too wrapped up in studying for the test and preparing a lab report that took twelve hours to finish, all the while your lab partner, Tim, was frantically proofreading over your shoulder so you could turn it in by the deadline.

It was Thursday night, one day from seeing Dean, and you were sitting in the library for your overnight shift. You reach into your backpack for your notebook, but when you pull it out, the headphones from the Walkman are tangled in the spiral of the notebook.

Oh no.

You couldn't believe that you forgot about the tape and you wonder if that's why Dean hadn't texted or called the past few days, because he was waiting for you to call him to tell him what you thought.

You carefully untangle the headphones from the notebook, before raising your head to look around the library. It was midnight, which meant that the only people in the library were you and a guy in the corner slumped over a stack of textbooks half asleep. His loud snores echoed through the empty room, something else that reminded you of Dean. He didn't believe you when you told him he snored, until you recorded it on your phone and played it back to him. But, you didn’t hate that he snored. Sometimes you hated how quiet it was in your bedroom when he wasn't there sleeping beside you, that was usually when you called him just to hear his voice through the phone and closed your eyes to imagine he was there.

Dean never cared what time it was when you called him, in fact, Dean liked it when you called him on your overnight shifts and when you were walking back to your apartment. He liked to make sure that nothing happened to you when you were walking home.

You didn't think that the sleeping man in the corner would need any help anytime soon, so you slip the headphones over your ears and hit play. But when the first song starts, you're confused.

The first song is one of your favorites, "I'll Have to Say I Love You In A Song,"  by Jim Croce. A singer that you liked to listen to when you winded down at the end of the day and also a singer that was not Dean's favorite. He often teased you about it. For Dean to include the song on the tape was unusual, but you figured that it was because he knew you loved it.

"Well I know it's kinda late, I hope I didn't wake you, But what I've gotta say can't wait, I know you'd understand, 'Cause every time I tried to tell you, The words just came out wrong, So I'll have to say I love you in a song…"

You hum along to the music while tapping your foot along to the melody as you reach back into your bag to pull out your textbook and pencil case for your highlighters and note tabs.

The second song starts as you turn back to your textbook, finding the right chapter to begin studying. You had expected the next song to also be a Jim Croce song or another song that you liked given the name of the mixtape. You assumed that "In Case I Do Something Stupid" meant that the tape would be filled with songs you loved to make you feel better if Dean pissed you off, but the next song is not one you know. You can tell it's Kansas, one of Dean's favorite bands, and one that you didn't often listen to before you met him.

"…Stand beside me I will never let you fall Stand beside me I'll come whenever you call…"

You smile to yourself at the lyrics, it makes you think about how dependable Dean is. How he's willing to drop anything and show up whenever you need him. The melancholy tone of the song makes you miss him even more.

A few other songs filter through the headphones as you continue to look through your notebook, making mental notes on what you need to focus more on.

When "Caught Up In You" by 38 Special begins to play, you highlight a passage absentmindedly in your textbook while listening to the words:

"I'm so caught up in you, little girl, That I never wanna get myself free And baby, it's true You're the one Who caught me, baby, you taught me How good it could be... Oh no I can't live without you..."

The next song makes you snort, mostly because it has been on the radio more and more lately and you wonder if Dean meant for it to be ironic.

"I was made for loving you baby, You were made for loving me, And I can't get enough of you baby, Can you get enough of me?"

The smell of coffee wafts from the 24/7 coffee shop in the lobby, drawing you up from your seat to answer the siren call. When you get back with a iced coffee, you place the headphones over your ears once more and hit play.

The next song is unexpected, mostly because you didn't know that Dean listened to Elton John, but when "Your Song" starts to play you can't help, but stop to bask in the lyrics. It was one of your favorites and you couldn't help but think of Dean, how much he cared for you, and how much he'd be willing to do anything for you:

"I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind, That I put down into words, How wonderful life is While you're in the world..."

You smile and touch the ring hanging from the chain at your neck, the one that Dean gave you, smiling to yourself.

The next two songs you recognize, both Journey songs, "Open Arms" and "Faithfully." You’d heard "Open Arms" before, but you'd never taken the time to listen to the lyrics:

"So here I am With open arms Hoping you'll see What your love means to me Open Arms…"

When "Faithfully" follows, you can't help but feel a nagging sensation in the back of you mind when you listen to the lyrics of the soft ballad like you're missing something:

"…Lost without you And being apart ain't easy on this love affair… Oh, girl, you stand by me I'm forever yours Faithfully…"

You highlight another definition in your textbook while chewing on the inside of your cheek. You did like Journey.

Maybe Dean just wanted to include songs that I liked after the whole 8-minute Moby Dick drum solo fiasco.

When the next song comes on you can tell that it's a Led Zeppelin song, given the familiar tone of the lead singer. You continue to listen, focusing on the chorus:

"Oh, all of my love, all of my love to you, now All of my love, oh yes, All of my love to you…"

You sit there for a second in the brief silence that follows the song, before you shrug. Dean always included a Led Zeppelin song in his mixtapes because he wanted to continue your education of music with one of his favorite bands.

The next song begins and you immediately know what it is, "Feel Like Makin' Love" by Bad Company. Dean had included the song in a previous mixtape, not to mention you had heard it before on a tape he played when the two of you were together in his room at the bunker. Your cheeks blush as you remember what you were doing when it played. He had plenty of mixtapes that were devoted to that particular subject.

But this time you really sit and listen to the words of the song, highlighter poised high over the page:

"Darling, I don't live without you And your love… Darling, if I live without you, I live without love…"

It makes you think of Dean again. You sigh to yourself wishing that it was already time to go back to see him.

There are actually some nice lyrics in this song. You think making a note in the margins of the textbook perched on your knee. You look back up to survey the empty room. The only patron is still in the corner snoring away.

The next song is one that you liked to listen to, "All I Wanna Do is Make Love to You" by Heart:

"Fate tell me it's right, is this love at first sight?... All I wanna do is make love to you..."

You bite the inside of your cheek. Dean never called it "making love," but you never pressed him for that, you knew that was what you were doing together. Dean might not be the best at expressing his feelings all the time, but you saw it in his actions. Dean took care of you, spent time with you, and went out of his way to make sure you were happy. You knew that he wouldn't do any of those things if he didn't love you. Not to mention you knew that his father made things like discussing feelings seem worthless. You were gently coaxing those things out of him, making sure that he knew you wouldn't think him less of a man to tell you how he felt.

I mean, he's never said that he "loved me," but I think he does.

The song that follows is another Bad Company song that you'd never heard, but the lyrics stir deep in your chest:

"I can't get enough of your love, I've got to tell ya baby, that I I love you so much I can't get enough of your love..."

You sit back in your chair, textbook forgotten and pause the tape. You couldn't help but notice that all the songs had a particular theme and you couldn't understand why.

When you hit play the next two are Van Halen, one of your favorite bands, and you immediately recognize both songs. The quick pace of "So This is Love" washes over you, making your heartbeat spike with the beat of the drums.

"Yes, she knows she's mine And ain't letting go So this is love? Ooh I need you love, Baby, got to have your love…"

Your breath catches in your chest as "When It's Love" starts to play and the smooth sound of the piano tickles against your skin.

"When it's love Ooh, when it's love Hey it'll last forever When it's love You and I We're going to feel this thing together…"

And before you can think about the words the next song follows, "Is This Love?" by Whitesnake.

"I feel my love for you growing stronger Day by day And I can't wait to see you again So I can hold you in my arms Is this love that I'm feeling? Is this love or am I dreaming? This must be love 'Cause it's really got a hold on me…"

The next song that follows is Styx, "Babe" and you had heard it on a previous playlist Styx tape that Dean loaned you when he found out that you'd never heard anything by the band before. But this time the song catches you off guard.

"'Cause I'll be lonely without you And I'll need your love to see me through But please believe me, my heart is in your hands 'Cause I'll be missing you Babe, I love you…"

You sit there in the silence that follows "Babe," unable to stop the rapid beat of your heart recognizing the familiar theme with all of the other songs on the mixtape and unable to stop focusing on the final words of the song.

"Babe, I love you..."

You take a sip of your iced coffee, tapping your highlighter against your textbook while trying to gather your thoughts. But you couldn't focus on anything on the page. Your thoughts turn to the funny name that Dean decided to call the mixtape.

It's just a coincidence. Dean made another mixtape with songs that he wanted to share with me-

And then the Jim Croce song, "I'll Have to Say I Love You In a Song," comes back on. And you understand. It was exactly what Dean was doing. He was saying "I love you" the only way he knew how.

You look at the label of the cassette again, running your thumb over the writing.

You initially thought that the "In Case I Do Something Stupid" title Dean wrote, meant that he wanted you to listen to the tape whenever he pissed you off for being careless on a hunt, but now you realize the title referred to if Dean hurt you, if he broke your heart somehow along the way, the tape was a reminder and a confession of his love. A reminder that he wasn't going to give you up, that he was going to fix it the best way he could, and that he was going to love you for the rest of his life.

Why didn't I listen to this sooner?

Dean POV

He tapped his pen anxiously against the ancient text as he laid across his bed, glancing every few seconds at the dark phone on his left.

You still hadn’t called.

It’d been three days since you said you would listen to the mixtape, three days of absolute agony. Dean sighed looking back at the text but he couldn’t focus on any of the words.

What if she listened to it and didn’t love me? What if that’s why she wasn’t calling? He thought to himself, frown deepening.

He’d thought about saying it to you a million times, almost said it on the phone three days ago, but he was afraid. Dean didn’t like admitting that, but it was true. His fear that you would reject his declaration of love kept him from whispering the three little words that he’d wanted to say from the moment you’d met and patched him up two years ago. He'd never said it to anyone before, but he'd never wanted to say it to anyone before he met you.

He glances back at his phone hopefully as the screen illuminates, but it's only a notification from his email. It was past six am, but every time Dean tried to go to sleep all he could think about was you, you and the fact that you hadn't called or texted.  Dean taps the pen on the book again, as his heart continues to sink.

Why is this so hard? Why can’t I just say it to her? I should call and tell her right now-

Dean picks up his phone, but then puts it down.

Because what if you had listened to the tape and this was your way of avoiding him.

What if she'll never call me back and this is it? What if this is her way of saying that she doesn't love me and she doesn't know how to get around the awkwardness of calling to tell me that she doesn't?

His heart seized in his chest to think that.

His mind began to circle the drain again, thinking of all the things he said to you the night that you told him that you wanted him five months ago. He had been surprised of course. You were so different than him, so warm and full of life that it made him feel like he’d swallowed the sun whenever he was around you. He didn't realize that you'd wanted him as much as he wanted you, in fact, half the time Dean believed that he didn't deserve to be with someone like you, not after all the things he'd done.

Dean rolls over on his back to look up at the ceiling of his bedroom, tracing the cracks in the metal and the familiar patches of rust, hoping for sleep to give him some relief.

But he can't, all he can think about is you.

Dean remembers his younger years, his years of stringing women along and flirting with whatever caught his eye. But you made him better man and that's why he loved you. You knew him better than anyone else, saw his flaws, allowed him to be open and vulnerable for the first time. You didn't make him feel like less of a man when he expressed emotions and you allowed him to break. Dean couldn't wait to see you again, because when he was with you, he didn't feel the albatross hanging around his neck.

A loud, frantic knocking at his door stirs him from his thoughts.

"I'm not in the mood Sammy." Dean grumbles.

He throws his muscular forearm over his eyes to shut out the light above and to staunch the flow of self-deprecating thoughts.

The knocking persists.

Dean sighs loudly, before standing from his bed and walking to the solid metal door, his hotdog pajama pants swishing against his ankles.

"I said I'm not-" Dean looks up where Sam's face usually would be, but sees nothing.

What?

Then he drops his gaze and he sees you. Your cheeks are flushed bright red, hair blown back away from your face in tangles, wearing Dean's favorite pair of jeans, the ones that hug you so tight that it makes him have a hard time focusing. Your smile breaks something in his chest, spreading warmth and comfort through his body like a wildfire.

Dean can't remember the last time he felt comfort before he met you. When you were with him it felt like home, something that he was missing for so long in his life.

"Hey Sweetheart, what are you doing he-" He barely gets the words out before you throw yourself at him. Dean stumbles back with the force of your tackle as your lips find his, arms wrapping around the back of his neck to grip his bare shoulders and pull his face further down to yours.

Dean falls backward on the bed with you on top of him, the thick volume pressing into his back painfully, but he doesn't feel it all he's aware of is you. How your body feels on top of his, how your lips move together as one, and the soft sounds you make into his mouth when he deepens the kiss and drags his hands down to your hips.

You pull back out of breath, lips bright pink. "I listened to it. I'm so sorry it took me so long."

"You did?" Dean's hands are comfortably seated on top of your hips, squeezing just enough that he knows you're here, you're real, and he didn't fall asleep.

"Yeah, and I didn't want to say this on the phone." Your eyes are bright. "I love you too Dean."

Dean's heart skips a beat, an uncontrollable smile shining from his face with your confession. He can't remember a single solitary moment in which he'd felt so much love, comfort, and happiness surging beneath his skin.

"You do?" He didn't mean to ask it, but the little voice was back spreading doubt.

"Of course I do. It's impossible not to." You lean down to kiss him again, your fingertips flitting over his muscular torso in a way that makes pins and needles trace in their wake. "But I'd like to hear you say it." Your forehead presses against his, hair tickling his cheeks.

"I love you y/n." Dean whispers. He watches the way your blush swells over your cheeks, smile widening with his words. And all he wants is to make you smile like that for the rest of his life, to bask in your glow because you are the sun.

Dean secures his hand at the back of your head and draws you down to him, losing himself in the warmth of your love and the soft promise of what tomorrow would bring.

List of Songs In This Fic:

I'll Have to Say I Love You In A Song by Jim Croce

Stand Beside Me by Kansas

Caught Up In You by 38 Special

I Was Made For Lovin' You by Kiss

Your Song by Elton John

Open Arms by Journey

Faithfully by Journey

All My Love by Led Zeppelin

Feel Like Makin' Love by Bad Company

All I Want To Do Is Make Love To You by Heart

Can't Get Enough by Bad Company

So This Is Love by Van Halen

When It's Love by Van Halen

Is This Love? by Whitesnake

Babe by Styx

Thank You For Reading! If you'd like to be added to my tag list for this universe let me know :)

Taglist: @daisy-the-quake @brightlilith @roseblue373 @sunnyhummingbee

[scarletqueenx]

chapter ten - mystery spot

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: Dean and you had dated for a few months before his father disappeared and his journey with Sam began. Now, having made a deal to save his brother's life and with only a year to live, Dean considers reconnecting with the only girl he's ever had feelings for. You.

Author’s Note: English is not my first language. This is my first time writing in the readers perspective, as i'm used to write oc´s.

series masterlist

You and Dean had not yet talked about what had happened between the two of you. It seemed stupid to define your relationship when Dean barely had a few months left to live. Still, it was quite evident that something had changed between you. And that night had just been another example of it.

In the middle of the night, after another nightmare, you had half-asleep walked over to Dean's bed and laid down beside him seeking comfort and safety. He wrapped his hand around your waist to hug you against his body as you placed a leg between his. A gesture Dean used to hate when you dated, but now it had become one of his favorite things about sharing a bed with you.

Heat of the moment

The song playing on the radio woke Sam and you that morning. His eyes widening as you shifted and grunted against the pillow, stretching your hand across the bed, reaching for Dean's body.

Telling me what your heart meant

"Rise and shine, Sammy!" Dean exclaimed sitting on the edge of the bed you were sleeping to tie his shoes. "You too, sweetheart." He turned his gaze to you, placing a hand on your bare leg.

"Dude." Sam grunted, looking at the radio. "Asia?"

"Come on. You love this song and you know it." Dean looked back at him.

"Yeah, and if I ever hear it again I'm gonna kill myself."

Not listening to him, Dean turned up the volume.

"What? Sorry, couldn't hear you."

Sam chuckled as you grunted against the pillow, trying to cover your ears with it.

It was the heat of the moment

Dean started bopping along, as he lay on top of you, leaving kisses on your shoulders while seeking to pull the pillow away from your face. Sam shook his head in amusement.

"Stop it." You groaned, turning around between Dean's arms. Your half-asleep eyes meeting his as a smile peeked over his lips.

Heat of the moment Heat of the moment Showed in your eyes

He wanted to kiss you. He wanted to kiss you right then and there. As you lay on what was his bed, looking up at him with your face half asleep and your messy hair spread across the pillow. But Sam's throat clearing brought him out of his thoughts, forcing him to break away to let you prepare to leave the room.

"Whenever you're ready, Dean." Sam said a couple of minutes later when Dean was finishing cleaning his teeth.

Coming out of the bathroom Dean walked over to his bag and pulled out a black bra.

"This yours?" He turned to you with a smirk. You looked at him unamused, finishing tying your shoes and grabbing your jacket from the back of a chair. Letting out a laugh, Dean put what was in fact one of your bras back in his bag before pulling out his gun. "Bingo."

"Can we go?" You asked. "I'm starving."

Dean nodded, walking pass Sam and you and out of the motel room. After deciding on a small diner, the three of you entered the place.

"Drive safely now, Mr. Pickett." The cashier said to a old man after handing him his change.

"Yeah, yeah." He grunted in response, walking pass you and out of the diner.

"Can't stay unless you order something, Cal. You know the rules." Said the waitress behind the bar, which make you look at her, seeing a man sitting there.

"Some coffee." Cal answered, passing her some change.

"Hey. Tuesday. Pig in a poke." Dean noticed a poster on the wall that displayed the specials for the day. You frowned as you sat next him in the booth he had chosen.

"You even know what that is?" You asked. Dean turned to you, shrugging.

The waitress from behind the bar walked towards you, allowing you to read the name on her name tag. Doris.

"You folks ready?" She asked, pulling a pad out of her apron.

"Yes. I'll have the special, side of bacon and a coffee." Dean said with a smile.

"Make it two coffees and a short stack." Sam added.

"Yeah, I'll have the same as him." You smiled at the waitress.

"You got it." She nodded, writing it down before leaving the table.

"You both are boring." Dean said, turning back to look at Sam and you.

"Why? Because we don't eat as much as you do?" You asked with confusion. "Sorry, I have the stomach of a regular person."

"Whatever." He sighed, fixing his gaze on his brother. "I'm telling you, Sam, this job is small fry. We should be spending our time hunting down Bela."

"Okay, sure, let's get right on that. Where is she again?"

"I still can't believe you let her steal the Colt." You commented.

"Shut up." Dean grumbled. "And we didn't let her."

"At least we still have my knife." You pointed out. "Thanks, mom."

"Yeah, thank you mom for being a witch." He muttered.

"Hey, that witch saved mine and my brother's life. And she never hurt anyone." You gave him an annoyed look.

"You don't know that."

"She was my mother, Dean." She reminded him. "It's not my fault that every witch you've ever encountered turned out to be an evil bitch. You hate them, great. Burn, witches, burn. But leave my mother out of it."

Letting out a sigh, Dean looked back at you with regret. But before he could say anything, Sam interrupted him.

"Look. Believe me, I want to find Bella as bad as you do. In the meantime, we have this." Sam said, pulling out some papers from his jacket.

"All right, so this professor." Dean sighed, looking at the papers and reading the headline on them: MISSING - DEXTER HASSELBACK LAST SEEN IN BROWARD, FLORIDA.

"Dexter Hasselback was passing through town last week when he vanished." Sam explained.

"Last known location?" You asked, looking at the papers over Dean's shoulder.

"His daughter says he was on his way to visit the Broward County Mystery Spot." Sam answered, sliding a flyer over the table. Taking it in your hands, you took a look at it.

"Where the laws of physics have no meaning." You read aloud, showing the flyer to Dean. Sam shrugged, not knowing exactly what that meant.

Just at that moment Doris came back to the table with a tray of food and three coffees. She set the food and drinks down on the table before reaching for the bottle of hot sauce. "Three coffees, and some hot sauce for the-" She said but was quickly interrupted when the bottle of hot sauce fell off the tray and smashed on the floor. "Crap! Sorry." She apologized, turning to look back. "Cleanup!"

After finishing their food the three of you left the diner, walking past a dog that barked in your direction, but quickly quieted when you petted his head and gave him a smile. Dean snatched the Mystery Spot flyer from his brother's hands and looked at it once again with a scowl on his face.

"Sam, joints like this are only tourist traps, right? I mean, you know, balls rolling uphill, furniture nailed to the ceiling, they're only dangerous to your wallet." He said.

"Okay, look, I'm just saying, there are spots in the world where holes open up and swallow people. The Bermuda Triangle, uh, the Oregon Vortex-"

"Broward County Mystery Spot?" Dean cut him off.

"Well sometimes these places are legit."

"All right, so if it is legit, and that's a big-ass if, what's the lore?" Dean asked, letting out a sigh.

You ran to catch up with them. And just as you started to walk beside Dean a blonde girl carrying a stack of paper bumped into your shoulder, quickly apologizing without barely looking at you.

"Excuse me."

The woman's touch sent a shiver down your spine, bringing with it a sense of unease and a faint sense of impending danger. It was as if someone was trying to whisper a warning into your ear. It was only a whisper, but it was enough to send a jolt of anxiety through your body.

"The lore's pretty frigging nuts, actually." Sam words brought you back to reality. "They say these places the magnetic fields are so strong that they can bend spacetime, sending victims no one knows where."

"Sounds a little X-Files to me." Dean said as you passed two movers with desk that was clearly never going to fit in the door they were trying to get it through.

"Told you it wouldn't fit." Said one of the movers.

"What do you want, a Pulitzer?" The other one asked with annoyance.

"All right, look, I'm not saying this is really happening, but if it is, we gotta check it out, see if we can do something." Sam said as you continued walking, not paying much attention to the movers.

"I think Sam is right." You spoke. "It's worth a look."

"All right, all right, we'll go tonight after they close, get ourselves a nice long look." Dean finally accepted.

The best time to go to a place like that was at night, where there were no tourists visiting around. Night also meant the need for flashlights, which was why you found yourself aiming your flashlight at the front lock so Dean could pick it. When the door opened, you handed another flashlight to him before stepping inside.

The hallway was illuminated by a neon green light with a black double spiral painted on the walls and door. The last one to enter, Sam, closed the door behind before following Dean and you up the hallway with the EMF reader in his hand.

"Wow. Uncanny." Dean said in a sarcastic tone as he shined the flashlight around and up onto a table, lamp, and ashtray attached upside-down to the ceiling.

Still with that uneasy feeling in your body, you looked to Sam in search of answers.

"Find anything?" You asked.

"No." He answered. You sighed.

"You have any idea what you're looking for?"

"Uh... yeah." Sam looked up at you as you raised your eyebrows skeptically. "No."

Shaking your head, you shared a quick look with Dean as you both shine the flashlights around other parts of the room.

"What the hell are you doing here?" A forth and unknown voice asked you. Turning around, you encounter an older man, probably the owner of the place, holding a gun aimed at the three of you.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Whoa. We can explain." Dean said as he watched the man pointing his gun towards you.

"You robbing me?"

"Look, nobody's robbing you, calm down." You tried to stay calm as you took a step forward but the owner wasn't happy with that as he cocked the gun causing you to freeze in place.

"Don't move!"

"Alright. Alright. I won't move."

"Just putting the gun down." Dean said. What happened next was very quick. The owner moved his gun, aiming it at him and pulled the trigger. The bullet struck Dean in the chest, knocking him to the ground from the impact as blood came out of his mouth.

"Oh, God. Dean." You fell to your knees beside him, one hand covering your mouth as you let out a gasp. Sam soon came to your side, crouching down on the other side of his brother as Dean struggled to breathe. Holding tears in your eyes, you lifted your eyes up to the owner. Your gaze becoming much colder as you gripped the handle of the gun attached to your belt. "What the hell have you done?"

"I didn't mean-"

"Hey." Sam exclaimed. "Call 911!"

"I-I didn't mean to-"

"Now!"

Taking one last look at you, the owner nodded before leaving the room.

You returned to your knees next to Dean, tears beginning to slide down your cheeks at the state he was in. "Hey, Dean. Dean, stay with me, okay? Don't close your eyes. You have to-"

Suddenly Dean stopped breathing, his chest freezing from the lack of air in his lungs.

"No. It wasn't suppose to be like this." Sam whispered as he look at his brother.

"Dean." Your voice cracked.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Heat of the moment

Yours and Sam's eyes snapped open by the sound of the radio. You shifted and grunted against the pillow, stretching your hand across the bed, reaching for Dean's body as you remembered what had happened the previous day. Dean was dead.

Telling me what your heart meant

"Rise and shine, Sammy!" The sound of his voice made you frown in confusion as you turned your body. "You too, sweetheart." Dean placed a hand on your bare leg, sending a shiver down your body.

Confused, you lifted your body up on your elbows to look to the bed where Sam lay. Seeming just as confused as you were, Sam shared a quick look with you before directing his eyes towards the clock radio.

The heat of the moment Showed in your eyes

"Dude. Asia." Dean smile, lacing up his boots.

"Dean..." Sam tried to speak.

"Oh, come on, you love this song and you know it." Dean said, turning up the volume and bopping his head to the beat of the song. It was exactly like the first time it happened.

As he began to sing, Dean walked to the bathroom, leaving Sam and you completely speechless.

"What...?" Unable to articulate the question that was on the tip of your tongue, you turned your stunned gaze to Sam. "He was dead."

"I know." He nodded.

"What happened?"

"I don't know. Maybe it was a dream or..."

"Or?" You raised your eyebrows.

"I don't know. I know the same things you do." Sam assured you with frustration.

"We couldn't have had the same dream. Couldn't we?" You asked.

"Don't you have witch's blood?"

"But I destroyed the book, the powers are gone."

"Are they?" Sam got up from his bed, walking over to the one Dean and you had shared last night to sit next to you.

"Are you guys hungry?" Dean came out of the bathroom, looking at the scene before him with confusion. His eyes fixed especially on the anguished faces of both of you. "You two all right?"

"Yeah. Perfectly. Right, Sammy?" You tapped his shoulder lightly as you stood up. "Very hungry." You smiled at Dean as you walked past him into the bathroom.

Confusion grew in Sam and you as you watched things happen just as they had the day before. Not only Dean, but also the people in the diner.

"Drive safely now, Mr. Pickett." The cashier said to a old man after handing him his change.

"Yeah, yeah." He grunted in response, walking pass you and out of the diner. After seeing him disappear behind the door, you turned to Sam not knowing what was happening.

Dean was completely oblivious as he walked past you and found a booth to sit in. The same booth as the day before. You sighed, sitting down next to him. Sam stared around, bewildered as he sat in front of you.

"Can't stay unless you order something, Cal. You know the rules." You looked at the bar watching how Cal passed some change at Doris.

"Coffee." Cal answered.

It couldn't have been a dream. It was all happening the same exact way. Maybe Sam was right to blame your family history and it had all been caused by powers you didn't know how to control.

"Hey. Tuesday. Pig in a poke." Dean noticed a poster on the wall that displayed the specials for the day.

"It's Tuesday?" You asked with confusion before looking at Sam who seemed as shocked.

"Yeah." Dean nodded as Doris walked towards your table.

"You folks ready?" She asked, pulling a pad out of her apron.

"Yes. I'll have the special, side of bacon and a coffee." Dean said with a smile.

"Uh, nothing for me, thanks." Sam said when he noticed Doris eyes on him.

You cleared your throat before speaking. "Just coffee."

"Ok." She nodded looking back at Sam. "Let me know if you change your mind."

"I'm telling you, Sam, this job is small fry. We should be spending our time hunting down Bela." Sam and you paid little attention to Dean's words as your eyes followed Doris in confusion. Yet again, that shiver of unease shot through your body, a silent warning that something was wrong. Its presence been too strong this time for you ignore. "Hey." Dean snapped his fingers in front of your faces. "You two with me?"

"What?" Sam and you asked at the same time.

"You sure you feel okay?"

"You don't-you don't remember? Any of this?" Sam asked with a sigh.

"Remember what?" Dean frowned.

"This, Dean." You stated. "Today. Like it's-like it's... happened before?"

"You mean like déjà vu?"

"No, we mean like, like it's really happened before." Sam said.

"Yeah. Like déjà vu." Dean nodded.

"No, Dean, forget about déjà vu." You spoke in frustration. "I'm asking you if it feels like, like we're living yesterday all over again."

"Okay, how is that not dé-"

"Don't, don't say it!" Sam cut him off angrily. "Just don't even..."

Doris arrived with a tray food, two coffees and hot sauce. She set the food and drinks down on the table before reaching for the bottle of hot sauce. "Two coffees, and some hot sauce for the-oops! Crap!" Noticing how the bottle of hot sauce was going to fall off the tray, Sam reached out to catch it before it hit the floor. Doris gasped as Sam looked at the bottle in his hand in confusion before handing it back to her. "Thanks." She said before walking off.

"Nice reflexes." Dean said.

Oh, Sam and you were definitely doing crazy.

Not only were all those things happening the same way as the day before too much of a coincidence, Dean didn't seem to remember anything either. And if that wasn't enough, you were still feeling that unease feeling in your body. Something had been warning your about that place.

The dog barked as you walked out of the diner and pass him. You ooked at him but this time you didn't petted his head, you kept walking besides Dean.

"Dean, I really need you to listen to us, okay?" You insisted. "This day has happened before. Sam and I-"

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry, but I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"Okay, look." Sam sighed. "Yesterday was Tuesday, right? But today is Tuesday too."

You nodded.

"Yeah. No. Good. You're totally balanced." Dean said sarcastically.

"So you don't believe us?!" Sam asked with frustration as the blonde girl carrying a stack of paper bumped into your shoulder.

"Excuse me." She said, walking away.

"Look, I'm just saying that it's crazy, you know, I mean, even for us crazy." Dean said. "Dingo ate my baby crazy. Hey, maybe it was another of your psychic premonitions."

"I'm sorry, what now?" You stopped on your tracks.

"It's... It's a long story."

"Oh, believe me, I have all the time in the world. Because if we're not crazy like you say, Sam and I will relive this day all over again." You stated before looking at Sam. "You're a psychic?"

"No, I- We should focus on this. We'll explain it to you." He assured ñ.

"Why do I have the feeling that I will regret this?" You watched them closely. "Okay, look, we were at the Mystery Spot, and then-"

Seeing you stop talking, Dean looked at you with confusion.

"And then what?" He asked.

Taking a deep breath, you looked over to Sam. You didn't want to say it out loud.

"Then we woke up." Sam answered as you past the two movers.

"Told you it wouldn't fit." Said one of the movers.

"What do you want, a Pulitzer?" The other one asked with annoyance.

"Wait a minute! The Mystery Spot. You think maybe it-" Sam stopped, looking at his brother and you.

"Maybe what?" Dean frowned.

"We gotta check that place out. Look, just-go with us on this, okay?"

"All right, all right, we'll go tonight, after close, get ourselves a nice long look."

Shaking you head, you froze in place, placing a hand in front of Dean to stop him from walking any further.

"No. We are not going there."

"Why not?" Dean looked at you with confusion.

"Uhh... You know what? Let's just go now. Right now. Business hours, nice and crowded." You nervously suggested.

"My God, you're a freak." Dean muttered.

"Dean..."

"Okay! Whatever. We'll go now." He assured walking ahead of them and into the street.

Just like the shot the day before, the next thing that happened went by very quickly. A car appeared practically out of nowhere on Dean's left side, hitting him as he was crossing the street.

"Dean!" Sam and you rushed to him, kneeling by his side.

"Dean, no, no, no." Sam cried, his voice filled with anguish. "Come on! Dean."

"What the hell have you done?!" You rose back up, confronting the driver as Dean took his last breath.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Heat of the moment Telling me what your heart meant

You were starting to get sick of that song. Even with the theory that you would relive that day once again, you didn't expect to see Dean die another time. Frustrated and exhausted, Sam and you grunted against their pillows.

"You guys sure are grumpy this morning." Dean commented, sitting down on the edge of the bed to lace up his boots. "Come on. Rise and shine, Sammy!"

Sitting up in his bed, Sam looked around the room.

"You too, sweetheart." Dean turned his gaze to you, placing a hand on your bare leg.

The heat of the moment Showed in your eyes

Turning over slowly, you shared a glance with Sam before rising to your feet and walking toward the bathroom. Your steps steady and full of frustration. Noticing that, Dean frowned, glancing over at his brother.

"What's wrong with her?" He asked. Sam shrugged, letting out a sigh.

The morning started the same way as the two previous days. You followed your same steps and met the same people until you reached the diner. Although, this time, Sam and you tried to be quicker in explaining to Dean what was going on.

"Hey. Tuesday. Pig in a poke."

"Okay, would you listen to us, Dean?" You asked with exasperation. "'Cause we are flipping out."

"Are you folks ready?" Doris asked as she came to your booth.

"He'll take the special, side of bacon, coffee, black. Nothing for me, thanks." Sam quickly replied without bothering to look at her.

Taken aback by his quick response, Doris wrote down the order in her pad before looking at you, once again seated next to Dean.

"Nothing." You answered.

"Okay. You got it." She nodded, leaving your side.

"Sammy, I get all tingly when you take control like that." Dean said with a teasing smile.

"Quit screwing around, Dean." Sam grunted, rolling his eyes.

"Okay. Okay. I'm listening." Dean sighed. "So, so–you think that you're in some kind of a what again?"

"Time loop." You answered.

"Like Groundhog Day."

"Yes, exactly. Like Groundhog Day." Sam exclaimed.

"Uh-huh." He nodded, even though it was clear for you that he didn't believe a single one of your words.

"You seriously don't believe us?" You looked at him in disbelief. "Demons are real, vampires, ghosts, werewolves and witches. Without going any further, I have witch blood and your brother is a psychic, but you still don't believe us."

"Wait. How do you know about Sammy?"

"Because you told me yesterday. Which was also Tuesday."

"Okay, I'm just saying that it's a little crazy, I mean even for us crazy, you know, like, uh..."

"Dingo ate my baby crazy?" Sam asked.

"How'd you know I was going to say that?" He frowned.

"Because you said it before, Dean, that's our whole point."

Letting out a sigh, you looked up, finding Doris approaching your table again with the tray full of food and a coffee.

"Coffee, black, and some hot sauce for the—whoops! Crap." Doris said as the bottles of hot sauce fall of the tray. Without even looking at it, Sam reached his hand and caught it before it hit the floor, handing it back to Doris. "Thanks." She looked at him impressed, leaving the bottle on the table before leaving.

"Nice reflexes." Dean said, just as impressed as Doris.

"No. I knew it was going to happen."

"Okay, look. I'm sure that there's some sort of an explanation..."

"You're just going to have to go with us on this, Dean, you just have to, you owe me that much!" You snapped.

"Wait, what-what are you talking about?" Dean turned, looking at you with a mixture of shock and complete confusion.

"You left me in a motel room, remember?"

"I thought we were past that."

"Yeah, but you still owe me this." You assured. Your voice firm and determined.

"Calm down..."

"Don't tell me to calm down! I can't calm down. I can't. Because—" You stopped talking, not being able to finish the phrase. Sam noticed that, feeling himself almost as unable as you were to put it into words.

"Because what?" Dean asked.

"Because you die, today, Dean." Sam and you answered at the same time.

Taken aback, Dean watched the two of you in silence for a couple of seconds. "I'm not gonna die. Not today."

"Dean, we've watched you die twice now." Sam said. "And I can't—I won't do it again, okay? You're just going to have to believe us. Please."

Seeing the overwhelmed look on his brother's face Dean nodded. "All right. I still think you're nuts, but okay, whatever this is, we'll figure it out."

As Dean returned his focus to his plate of food, you brought your hand to her necklace, clinging to it as if it could do something to help you. Unconsciously you hoped your mother would do so from the afterlife. Sam turned to you, looking at you with sympathy. Dean was his brother, it was obvious that seeing him die would affect him, but he could also see how it was affecting you. The sparkle in your eyes that had appeared after getting back on the road with them was now gone. And your gaze once again had that lifelessness and hopelessness look with which they had found you the night Ophelia had attacked your home.

The dog barked at you once again as you exited the diner, and the blonde girl carrying a stack of paper bumped into your shoulder.

"Excuse me." She said, walking away without even looking.

Seconds after, you passed the two movers.

"Told you it wouldn't fit." Said one of the movers.

"What do you want, a Pulitzer?" The other one asked with annoyance.

You looked back at them, fixing your gaze in the desk they were trying to fit in the door. Good luck, you thought, as it was clear to you that the desk wasn't going to get through that door.

"And you think this cheesy-ass tourist trap has something to do with it?" Dean's question brought you out of your thoughts.

"Maybe it's the real deal, you know?" Sam said. "The, the magnetic fields bending spacetime or whatever."

"I don't know, it all seems a little too 'X-Files' for me."

"Well, I don't know how else to explain it, Dean!"

"All right! All right. We'll go tonight after they close, get ourselves a nice long look."

"No, no, no, we can't." You were quick to answered.

"Why not?" Dean frowned as he looked back at you.

"Because you..."

"I what?" You stayed silence, which was enough answer to him. "I die there?"

"Blown away, actually." Sam explained.

"Huh. Okay, let's go now." Dean stated, walking ahead. You rushed after him, grabbing him before he ran into the street.

"Stay out of the way!" Mr. Pickett exclaimed, driving past them with his car.

Staring after the car, Dean started laughing until his eyes caught yours and Sam's faces.

"Wait, did he...?"

"Yesterday. Yeah." Sam nodded.

"And?"

"And what?"

"Did it look cool, like in the movies?" He asked, which made you roll your eyes.

"You peed yourself." Sam answered, irritated with him.

Dean shifted, uncomfortable and embarrassed. "Of course I peed myself. Man gets hit by a car, you think he has full control over his bladder? Come on!" He exclaimed, carefully looking to both ways before crossing the street.

Sam and you couldn't help but share an exasperated look. Maybe if the one dying was one of your two the situation would be easier. But Dean was hard to handle and too stubborn to listen.

Although, maybe, you weren't ones to talk, as you also weren't approaching the situation in the most cold and analytical way possible. An example of that was how Sam had snapped at the owner of Mystery Spot by asking him a few questions about the place while posing as a journalist. The man had been the one who had killed Dean in the first place, which had triggered all the recent events. Not to mention that what had led you to that town was the place he owned, where a man had disappeared without explanation.

"Well, I hate to say it, but that place is exactly what I thought—it's full of crap." Dean said, exiting the place.

"Then what is it, Dean, what the hell is happening to us?" Sam asked, desperate for an answer.

"I don't know. All right, let me just–So, every day I die?" Dean asked. Sam and you nodded. "And that's when you wake up again, right?"

"Yea, that's exactly what happens." You sighed.

"So let's just make sure I don't die. If I make it to tomorrow, then maybe the loop stops and we can figure all this out."

"You think?" Sam looked at him with hope in his eyes.

"It's worth a shot." Dean shrugged. "I say we grab some takeout and head back to the motel, lay low until midnight."

Sam and you nodded, both anxious, shaky, but mostly hopeful. Hopeful that maybe all of this madness will come to an end.

"All right, good. Who wants Chinese?" Dean smiled at you before he started walking again.

Just two steps. Two steps was what he had walked before a desk fell over him, smashing him to yet another death. A gasp escaped your mouth as you looked up the building. The two movers you had passed by that morning after breakfast stared at the scene form the window as they held the other end of the snapped rope.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Heat of the moment Telling me what your heart meant

"Rise and shine, Sammy!" Dean exclaimed as he sat on his bed, tying his shoes. "You too, sweetheart." He added, placing a hand on your bare leg.

The heat of the moment Shown in your eyes It was the heat of the moment

This time Sam and you had decided to explain everything to Dean on the way to the diner, with the hopes that maybe you'll win some time to finally fix whatever was happening.

"I still think you're nuts, but... whatever this is, we'll figure it out." Dean said as you sat in the diner.

"Thanks." Sam sighed.

"So, uh... If you two are stuck in 'Groundhog Day', why? What's behind it?" He asked.

"Well, first we thought it was the Mystery Spot. Now we're not so sure." You explained.

"What do we do?"

"Well, we keep you breathing. Try to make it to tomorrow. I mean, that's the only thing we can think of."

"Shouldn't be too hard." Dean shrugged.

"Yeah, right." Sam scoffed. "Dean, we've watched you die a few times now and we can't ever seem to stop it."

"Well, nothing's set in stone. You say I order the same thing every day, right?" He asked, looking back at you, as you were once again sitting by his side.

"Yeah. Pig in a poke, side of bacon." You answered.

With a small nod, Dean turned to Doris, who was standing by the window to the kitchen, talking with the cook.

"'Scuse me, sweetheart?" He asked and she turned around to look at Dean. "Can I get sausage instead of bacon?"

"Sure thing, hon." She said before turning back around to tell the cook.

Dean smiled, looking back at his brother. "See? Different day already. You see, if you and I decide that I am not gonna die – I'm not gonna die."

"Really hope you're right." You whispered, but he seem to hear you as his gaze traveled back to you with a confused look in his eyes. The look of distress on your face was breaking his heart a little. If he had to watch you die day after day he would go completely insane.

Doris walked over to their table and set down Dean's food before walking away.

"Thank you." Dean said to her and stabbed a sausage link with his fork. He bit into it and smile as he chewed. Sam smiled at that, and you were about to do the same, but as soon as you started to hear Dean fighting for air, that smile faded. You turned to him as he started to choke and hit his back but that didn't seem to work.

"Dean!" You exclaimed desperately, while still trying to help him breathe by hitting his back.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Heat of the moment Telling me what your heart meant

You opened your eyes once again, groaning against your pillow. "Rise and shine, Sammy!" Dean exclaimed as he sat on his bed, tying his shoes. "You too, sweetheart." He added, placing a hand on your bare leg.

The heat of the moment Shown in your eyes It was the heat of the moment

You had lost count of how many times you had heard that song when you woke up. Every day was exactly the same, with little changes caused by Sam and your desperation to end the loop. Each day ended the same way too, with Dean dead. Slipping in the shower, eating a bad taco, the deaths were getting more and more absurd, but he always came back the next morning, breaking your heart even more.

"Drive safely now, Mr. Pickett." The cashier at the diner said to the man as he gave him some change.

You ignored him as he passed by, but Sam bumped into him deliberately so he could take his car keys before the man could get into his vehicle and run over Dean once again when the three of you left the diner.

Sitting back down in the same booth, you sighed, looking at the man sitting at the counter with a pancakes plate and maple syrup. You had noticed him before, but with each passing day you felt a little more drawn to him. There was something off about him, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it yet.

"Hey. Tuesday. Pig in a poke."

Sam sighed, laying a set of keys on the table. Dean frowned, looking at the them and then at him.

"What are those?" Dean asked.

"The old man's. Trust me, you don't want him behind the wheel." Sam answered without any more explanations.

"You folks ready?" Doris asked as she approached your table.

"Uh, yes, we are. I'll have the special, side of bacon and a coffee." Dean answered her as he gave her a smile.

"Hey, Doris?" You asked, making her look at you. "What I'd like is for you to log in some more hours at the archery range. You're a terrible shot."

"How'd you know that?" She asked in surprise. You shrugged.

"Lucky guess."

The woman didn't quite know how to respond to that, and the small, emotionless smile on your lips sent a shiver down her spine.

"I think you scared her off." Dean commented as he watched the waitress walk away from the table. "Okay, so you think you're caught in some kind of what, again?"

"Time loop." Sam answered.

"Like Groundhog Day."

"Doesn't matter. There's no way to stop it." You replied.

"Jeez, aren't you two grumpy."

"Yeah, we are. You wanna know why? Because this is the hundredth Tuesday in a row we've been through, and it never stops. Ever. So yeah, we're a little grumpy." Sam said rather quickly.

"Hot sauce." You murmured then, you gaze completely blank and emotionless. Dean turned back to you confused.

"What?"

Doris arrived with the food and coffee, setting everything on the table before reaching for the bottle of hot sauce. "Coffee, black, and some hot sauce for the—whoops! Crap!" She gasped as the bottle slipped through her fingers, but Sam quickly grabbed, setting it down on the table without even looking at it. "Thanks." Doris said before leaving.

"Nice reflexes."

"I knew it was going to happen, Dean. I know everything that's gonna happen."

"You don't know everything." Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, he does. We both do." You said,

"Yeah, right." Dean and Sam said in unison. "Nice guess."

"It wasn't a guess."

"Right, you're a mind reader." They both said simultaneously, making you roll your eyes. "Cut it out, Sam. Sam." They lean towards each other as they continued. "You think you're being funny but you're being really, really childish! Sam Winchester wears makeup. Sam Winchester cries his way through sex. Sam Winchester keeps a ruler by the bed and every morning when he wakes up he—". Dean got tired and threw up his hands in defeat.

"Okay, enough!"

"That's not all. Randy, the cashier? He's skimming from the register. Judge Myers? At night he puts on a furry bunny outfit." You explained. And as he overheard her words, Judge Myers, knocked over his glass. "Over there, that's Cal. He's gonna rob Tony the mechanic on the way home."

"What's your point?"

"My point is we've lived through every possible Tuesday. We"ve watched you die every possible way. We have ripped apart the Mystery Spot, burnt it down, tried everything we know to save your life, and we can't. No matter what we do, you die. And then we wake up. And then it's Tuesday again." You blurted out quickly in frustration. Dean watched you closely, noting the shaking in your voice and hands.

"Wow, wow. Okay." He took one of your hands. "We'll figure this out."

"Yeah, you say that every time. Well, guess what, Dean, we haven't figured it out."

You pulled your hand from his grip with uneasiness. Not from the touch of his skin, but from the aching pain in your chest. You were letting your feelings for him get out of control and if you weren't careful, when his real death would come. A permanent one in which he would not return the next day. You knew you weren't going to be able to take it and move on.

"Dog." Sam mumbled as you exited the diner.

Dean frowned, looking down once a dog started barking as you passed him.

"There's gotta be some way out of this." He said.

"'Where's my dang keys?'" Sam ignored him completely as he continued to predict everything happening around him.

"Where's my dang keys?" Mr. Pickett asked, searching his pockets for his car keys that Sam had stole from him minutes before.

"'Excuse me.'"

You collided once again with the blonde girl carrying a stack of paper.

"Excuse me."

Seeing how he was predicting each thing, Dean stopped in his tracks, putting his arms in front of Sam and you.

"What?" You looked at him in confusion.

"Hey. All the times we've walked down this street, I ever do this?" Dean asked walking after the blonde girl.

Sam and you shared a quick glance.

"No." You mumbled before going after him.

"A hundred Tuesdays and you never bothered to check what she was holding in her hands?" Dean looked up at you in disbelief. Sam and you shrugged. "That's the guy who went missing?" Dean pointed out as he held up the flyer.

"Yeah?"

"That's his daughter back there." Dean pointed to blonde girl. Sam grabbed the flyer and ran after the girl, leaving Dean and you alone.

Silence settled between you as you watched your surroundings looking for any threat to Dean's life. A part of you knew that his death would come sooner or later like the hundreds of Tuesdays before, but what little hope you still had left assured you that if you were able to save him just once you'd finally end the loop.

Dean's thoughts were somewhere else. To him it had only been a few days since you had rejoined him and Sam on the ride. Which also meant that it had only been a few days since what had happened between the two of you. Now, feelings weren't his forte, much less talking about them. But that didn't stop him from thinking about kissing you every time you were next to him.

The dog next to him growled and barked. You didn't seem to hear him, but Dean walked over to him.

"Hey buddy!" He leaned over to pet it. "Somebody need a friend? Good boy—aaah!"

Sam and you didn't know what had happened. Just that in that moment everything went black and soon you started hearing that song once again as you woke up in the motel room on a new Tuesday.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

The next day something strange happened, something changed. In all the Tuesdays that Sam and you had experienced nothing but you changed, but that morning you couldn't help but notice how the man eating pancakes with maple syrup for breakfast had changed his syrup to strawberry one. And even weirder than all that, after discovering this, Sam and you woke up once again, this time without Dean having died.

"So you think you're caught in some kind of what, again?" Dean asked as you sat in the diner booth.

Sam and you ignored him as you watched the pancakes man closely.

"Eat your breakfast." You aswered him without even looking. Dean frowned at that, but he still didn't had the opportunity to ask you what was happening, 'cause the moment the man left the diner, Sam and you both went after him.

The mysterious man walked down the street. Sam followed him close behind until he reached him. Then he grabbed and slammed him into the fence, putting the tip of a wooden stake at his throat.

"Hey!" The man exclaimed.

"I know who you are. Or should I say, what."

"Oh my god, please don't kill me." He begged.

"Uh, Sam?" Dean walked after the two of you, trying to get your attention.

"It took me a hell of a long time but I got it."

You frowned at Sam's words. It was as if he knew the man, even seemed to know how to kill him, yet he hadn't mentioned anything to you.

"What?" The man looked at Sam with confusion.

"It's your MO that gave you away. Going after pompous jerks, giving them their just desserts—your kind loves that, don't they?" Sam continued.

"Yeah, sure, okay." The man nodded, looking down nervously at the stake. "Just put the stake down!"

"Sam, maybe you should—" You tried to get closer to him.

"No! There's only one creature powerful enough to do what you're doing. Making reality out of nothing, sticking people in time loops—in fact you'd pretty much have to be a god. You'd have to be a Trickster."

"Mister, my name is Ed Coleman, my wife's name is Amelia, I got two kids, for crying out loud I sell ad space—"

"Don't lie to me! I know what you are! We've killed one of your kind before!"

Suddenly the man started to transform into what Sam and Dean recognized as the real Trickster.

"Actually, bucko, you didn't." He said with a grin.

"I'm sorry, could someone explain to me what is going on?" You asked, gaining his attention. "Who are you? And why are you doing this to us?"

"He's a Trickster." Dean answered next to you.

"I'm doing it to him, sweetheart, not you." The Trickster explained, pointing to Sam. "You're just collateral damage." You looked at him with disbelief as he turned his gaze back to the young Winchester. "You chuckleheads tried to kill me last time."

"And Hasselback, what about him?" Dean asked about the missing guy.

"That putz? He said he didn't believe in wormholes, so I dropped him in one." He laughed. "Then you guys showed up. I made you the second you hit town."

"So this is fun for you? Killing Dean over and over again?" You took a step toward him.

"One, yes. It is fun. And two? This is so not about killing Dean. This joke is on Sam." He answered. "Watching your brother die, every day? Forever?"

"You son of a bitch." Sam growled.

"How long will it take you to realize? You can't save your brother. No matter what. You too, sweetheart." The Trickster looked back at you. "Sam is stubborn, but you... You actually believe you can save him. You'd even give your soul for him, wouldn't you? And the wheel would keep on turning. Deal after deal."

"She won't make any deals." Dean said.

"But not because she hadn't thought of it." The Trickster assured him. His glare fixed on you made you shudder. It was as if he could read all your thoughts, even the darkest ones. "We may not have met before, sweetheart, but I know you."

"Oh yeah?" You raised your eyebrows, grabbing the stake in Sam's hand and pushing him aside. Standing in front of the Trickster, you pulled the stake closer to his neck. "How about I kill you and this all ends now?"

"Oh-oh, hey, whoa! Okay. Look. I was just playing around. You can't take a joke, fine. You're out of it. Tomorrow, you'll wake up and it'll be Wednesday. I swear."

"You're lying." Sam said.

"If I am, you know where to find me. Having pancakes at the diner." He looked back at him.

"Nah, I think I'd rather kill you." You declared.

"Sorry, kiddo. Can't have that." He smiled before snapping his fingers.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Promise me I'll be back in time Gotta get back in time

God, you loved that song. Back to the Future was one of your favorite movies. In a way you also hated it because it was Carter's favorite movie and that brought back painful memories, but that morning it became your favorite song. That Asia wasn't playing on the radio meant that something had changed and maybe the Trickster hadn't lied to you when he said he would get you out of the loop.

"What, you gonna sleep all day?" Dean asked as he stood by the bathroom sink brushing his teeth.

Sam sat on his bed, his eyes wide open as he watched his brother. He had lived six months without Dean and you. You had both died in front of his eyes and the day hadn't restarted like the others. He had spent six months looking for the Trickster so he could bring him back to this very moment.

"I know, no Asia. This station sucks."

Sam shook his head and looked at the clock radio on the bedside table.

"It's Wednesday."

"Yeah, usually comes after Tuesday." You smiled emerging from the bathroom and standing next to Dean.

Without wasting a second, Sam threw off the covers and walked towards you. Dean and you shared a confused look when Sam pulled you two into a hug.

"Dude, how many Tuesdays did you have?" Dean smiled.

"Enough." He admitted, pulling back to look at you.

"She had the same reaction as you." Dean admitted, pointing to you. "She threw herself at me like..."

"I don't think he needs to know that." You cut him off.

"I don't need to know that." Sam confirmed with a nervous smile. "What, uh, what do you remember?"

"I remember you two were pretty whacked out of it yesterday. I remember getting up with the Trickster. That's about it." He shrugged.

"Great. Okay. Let's go." Dean frowned as he watched Sam gather up his things.

"No breakfast?"

"No breakfast." Sam confirmed.

"All right, I'll pack the car."

"I'll go with you." You smiled at Dean, ready to follow him.

"Wait!" Sam exclaimed. "You're two not going anywhere alone."

"It's the parking lot, Sam." You looked at him with confusion.

"Just—just trust me."

Seeing the desperate look in his eyes, you nodded. Surely you hadn't had the same experiences. For one you didn't remember Dean dying in the motel parking lot but Sam's reaction was that he had.

"Okay, but you have to get dressed."

"Yeah. Wait here." He asked them, walking into the bathroom with his clothes.

"He really is a lot weirder than you." Dean commented once the door closed behind his brother.

You murmured in agreement as you looked up at him. You still hadn't taken the time to take in that finally that nightmare was over and that Dean was no longer going to die today. You heart and body still ached from losing him so many times.

Now you felt the urge to touch him and never be separated from him again. Maybe the Trickster was right to think you would do anything to save him, even a deal.

"Hey, you don't look so good." Dean said as Sam left the bathroom. "Something else happen?"

"I just had a really weird dream." Sam answered without giving more explanations.

"Clowns or midgets?" Dean asked with a grin.

Keep Reading: Chapter Eleven

Tag List: @deans-spinster-witch @lmhf1 @mochminnie @helo1281917 @barnes70stark @slyregg

If you'd like to be tagged, drop me a comment

[missmarveledsblog]

OH BOY (Dean Winchester x Reader) part one

Summary : a hunt brings the boys into a small town , one they've been in years previous and a face of the past is seen in dean life only more , her anger of the man being back lead them to more than just the hunt

warnings: angst , fluffy , goofy vibes throughout the series as well as monsters , cryptids and paranormal . strangers ( of sorts ) to enemies ( of sorts ) to friends to maybe lovers in the future , sort of oc reader . use of y/n

Morning chaos wasn’t a new thing more routine at this rate of day . receipt, tickets , lists for both shopping and tasks of the day clutched tightly in hand  while trying to get to work on time as people smiled and waved passing by . The heat created a sheen of sweat and when the diner door opened all eyes on the panting mess of a waitress . spewing apologies for the lateness as the boss waved it off and a quick “relax” added as she walked into the back not noticing or probably not caring about the green eyes that followed her every move from the other side of the diner  , the sandy haired blonde that arrived probably ten minute before she did . 

“ Hey, that girl look familiar to you ?” he asked head tilted  while his brother focused on the laptop in front of him back against the wall so no one could see what he was looking at , a lot easier than explaining what was on the screen . 

“ what girl “ his brown eyes scanning the area seeing no one in proximity to who remotely could be familiar. 

“ the waitress  far left serving the fossils “. 

“ nope never seen her .. anyways this says … dean where you going.. And he’s gone “ he huffed watching his older brother putting on that smile  now in a million years and good money he didn’t expect for the waitress face to drop or the glass of water to be splash in his brothers face  before storming off out back while everyone stood silent watching him slowly retreat back to the table . 

“ i think she might be familiar “ was all he grumbled sitting down using the napkins wiping the water away . 

“ i kinda gathered “ sam smiled keeping his eyes on the screen , “ do you even remember her name ?” he finally asked, 

“Nope i do not anyways let get back to work “ he scooped a piece of him pie before taking one look to the back . 

She felt sick , she felt dizzy and sick . all the anger  building up , all confusion and disbelief of that man . she knew him alright and knew the fake name he’d given her or the fact he was gone out of her life . she swore she would tear him a new asshole the next time she saw him  and best she could do was throw water … water in his face .  pacing back and forth trying to will herself to cool down knowing she needed the job and needed not to go to prison but shit she was so fucking beyond pissed why was he back . 

“ wanna explain what that was ?” lou  her boss looking at her arms crossed . 

“ just an asshole from the past look i’m sorry i know i shouldn’t ..” she sighed . 

“ that asshole the one got you in trouble “ the old phrasing of wasn’t lost on her , but she could say it outloud even now nearly 5 years later a small nod of her head to confirm . 

“ why don’t you take day off clear the head kiddo or maybe talk to the guy ?” he patted her shoulder as she smiled weakly .  

“ i gotta do few things this morning anyways might help “ she stood grabbing her things . 

“Gives me time to order some aprons for the customers “ he teased finally getting a small smile on her face .

“ thanks lou “ she hugged him before heading out the door , the back door to not further see that face again hoping  he was just passing through, maybe she could stay under the radar til they eventually left .  Another part of her wanted to speak with him , in fact it was the right thing to do  but it wasn’t the easiest, the man she met in a bar gave her fake name and well the situation she was left in .  so lost in her thought oblivious to the world around her she didn’t even realise she was colliding with anything or anyone til she fell back on her ass . 

“ woah shit sorry.. I take it back “ she hissed looking up to see those green eyes .

“ First you throw water on me , now you falling for me like a  rom com baby “ he winked , teasing and joking extending his hand out . 

“ don’t need your help,”she grumbled, pulling herself off the ground, wiping the loose gravel and dirt off of her .

“ oh you dropped this “ the taller one said picking up  the metal piece that feel from her bag , a flask something he recognised .

“ thank you “ she quickly took it from his hand, slightly embarrassed , it wasn’t like she was power housing it throughout the day it was something passed down to her from her father when he died which was a whole other story there. 

“ A bit early “ the blonde smirked. 

“ It belonged to my dad asshole i don’t drink in middle of day “ she rolled her eyes . 

“ hi i’m sam and this is .. “ 

“ look if this is another fake ass name, save it whatever scam y’all are trying here don’t , these people are good people” she stopped him hands on hips only for both their phones to go off . 

“ I gotta go “ was all she said further running to her car like her life depended on it and shit it meant more than her life . 

“ Well that was weird” dean brows arched . 

“ We gotta go, that was Michelle , something going on at  the elementary school “ Sam's face dropped as the two ran off just as fast to the impala . 

Every part of stomach felt sick , it wasn’t missed on her that a lot of missing people lately that old part of her life was calling but as much as she wanted to just give in she couldn’t .  The box always sat under the hidden compartment of her trunk and something in her gut told her to take it out  now . Like old instinct and new ones merging together pulling up, she could see the kids  , small town , small school and each of their faces look terrified but she couldn’t see the one she was looking for , the one that made her heart fall into her stomach .  Not a second thought did she have when she pulled into the curb  and heading for the trunk , tucking the metal piece in her bag and heading to the face she would get answers from only she wasn’t the only one . 

“ what’s going on … you “ the three stood looking at each other. 

“ it’s happening … he was … oh my god “ the woman cried. 

“ michelle were’s Mikey “ y/n  pulled the woman back to earth .

“ wait he was just here … i swear he was “ her face drained of more  color . 

“ He went into the school someone called him “ a little girl spoke up . 

“ you wait here we can get … and she is gone… who mikey ?” dean asked . 

“ her son … oh my god that thing is in there like a rabid animal we heard his screams and i got the kids out ” she whispered . 

“ We'll get them back “ Sam patted her arm as the two ran into the building . 

She  was fully alert , was she blind to whatever was going on .. not fully , she knew the monsters that parents told their kids were not just stories or villains of fiction . She grew up learning to send them back to hell  or so her father told them what they were doing . pulling the gun out making sure it was loaded she walked around opening her ears to everything and anything,  hearing the sound of the growl that emitted down the hall, she kept  watching her surrounding as well as classrooms  then the growl and a scream she heard before sending her running the fastest she ever ran into her life . stopping she saw it big and tall the matted fur scatted around its body  , clawing at the supply closet and a cry she soothed so many times behind the door .  

Whistling , she knew what it was , how dangerous this thing was and how fast the fucker can be but none of that mattered if it meant getting it away from that closet . 

“ hey buddy stay there ok , don’t come out til mommy says so “ she called eyes not moving an inch as she raise the gun shooting precisely as the thing roared or screamed mixture both as she emptied the chamber pulling the blade from her bag  watching it readying  to charge at her , moving just as it got close sending it into the wall disorientating it she pulled her apron quickly makeshift mask as she ran jumping on it back stabbing any and everywhere  til it threw her off it back making her roll land of her knee. 

“ Stay down “ was all she heard before shot followed and sound of glass smashing to see the creature gone feeling hand under lifting her off the ground barely looking to see who it was she ran to the classroom .

“ open the door “ she called 

“ you could trick me again “ the little voice frightened called, making her heart break but relief all over her body.  She let out a little whistle and instantly the door opened and the little body clung to her for dear life . looking in the room she could see the circle on the ground . 

“ Are you ok ?” she pulled the boy back, checking him over . 

“ i’m ok” he sniffled  little eyes still wide, that part of her that felt like she failed keeping him from her old life and yet  still happy she had him prepared . 

“ What the hell was that “ the voice called making her turn to see the two men standing there . 

“ a wendigo” she shrugged, lifting the little boy up carrying him passed. 

“ You're a hunter?” Sam spoke up . 

“I was not anymore” she shook her head heading out as she carried the boy only for the sherif to rush to her seeing her a little beat up .  “ He's ok “ she smiled weakly . 

“ you ok though let the paramedics check you over , that animal don't bite you or anything ?” he asked . 

“ no i shot it  ran out the window “  shaking her head as they walked to the EMT’S 

 Sam was quiet looking at the woman before him , the little sandy hair green eyed boy. Something about the boy so similar and familiar in his face it was like looking…

“ how old is he?” Sam asked seeing her visibly freeze .   

“ i’m four years old and nine months  “ the little voice spoke up . 

“ Right “ sam nodded slightly hitting his brother . 

“ good age “ dean smiled completely oblivious to the situation as the maths of it all wasn’t clicking . 

“ yeah it's a great age we gotta go “ she smiled weakly before the EMT Could stop her she was gone to her car and gone . 

“ When's the last time we were here ?” sam turned to his brother. 

“ nearly fiv…” the penny dropped as he turned to see her  car gone. 

“ definitely explain why she wants you gone” he mused . 

“ no it can’t be … we used … noo i’m telling you no “ dean shook his head as sam walked off leaving the man standing thinking over everything in his life including that night that was slowly in part coming back to him . “ oh fuck “ he gulped .

[angels-silhouette]

Ten Years Gone {d.w.}

Hi everyone!! This is my first Dean Winchester fic! Please let me know what you think of it, happy reading!

Summary: Dean hasn't been out of Purgatory for long, and Sam told him that he wants out of the family business, at least for now. Dean finds himself in a small town on the coast of Maine, where he runs into a mysterious woman; she makes him question his own retirement. Will they fall in love or will they fall apart? Will Dean actually step away from the job? And what is this woman hiding from him? Warnings: slight aggression. +18 MDNI (even though there’s nothing R rated in this)

—

It’s late on a Tuesday night, the jukebox is humming in the corner of the bar playing slow country music. The air smells of liquor that’s dried on most surfaces of this place, a smell that’ll cling to your clothes until you wash them. It was the kind of late where only the restless or wrecked hung around, and tonight, Dean Winchester felt like both.

He sat at a table nursing a whiskey, tracing the edge of the glass with his middle finger. The bar was mostly empty, but Dean always made it a point to observe even when it’s not needed; the bartender wiping down the counter, two guys at a table loudly arguing about whether the Bruins are going to the playoffs or not, and a woman a few seats away from Dean, scribbling away in a notebook. He can’t tell if she comes here often or if she’s in the same boat he’s in, restless. Making sure to keep a watchful eye on her, especially since she’s the only woman in the building.

Dean shifted in his seat, trying not to think about the fact that he’s on the road by himself, again. It wasn’t the first time his brother needed a break from this life, and it wouldn’t be the last. They’ve been hunting nonstop for eight years, and after everything Sam has been through with the demons and Lucifer, the Leviathan’s and not knowing if Dean was dead or not for a year—he was bound to crack. The two of them fought over the fact that Sam didn’t hunt for a year, that Kevin was abducted and nothing was done about it. Sam was adamant about stepping away for a while, so he’s with his girl, while Dean is on the lookout for The Prophet. 

For some reason this time feels different. Dean’s gotten older, he’s not young and stupid anymore, and he sure as hell has been through the wringer more than he’d like to be. He has a hard time lying to himself that he’s fine on his own. He needs Sam. The feeling of crippling anxiety that won’t cease is new, and it’s a feeling that’s not easily quieted by liquor. His hand shakes while he downs the remainder of his whiskey. The job is his life but is his life worth the job? It’s a hard decision to make, almost impossible.

He was so lost in his thoughts he almost didn’t notice that the woman had gotten up and started walking towards the bar. She distanced herself as far away from the other two men as she could then ordered, “A margarita with a salt rim and a double whiskey, please.” It didn’t take long for them to notice that she’d gone up there. Dean didn’t like the looks of them, they had a mischievous gleam in their eyes when looking at her. One of the Bruins fans stood up and advanced towards the bar.

“Hey there, pretty lady,” the man slurred, propping himself up against the counter. “What do ya say I buy your drinks for ya, sweetheart?”

Dean sighed, his grip tightening around his glass. He knows how these movies end, and they don’t end well. 

The woman didn’t so much as flinch, without turning to look at him, she said, “I can take care of it myself, thanks.”

Her voice was cold and sharp, the kind of tone that could cut through steel, but the drunkard didn’t take the hint. He leaned in closer. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, see his eyes narrow in determination, and sense his bad intentions. 

“Aw, come on honey. Let me treat ya, then maybe we can head back to my place, if you know what I’m sayin’?”

“I said no. Walk. Away.” Her gaze finally snapping to him, one so chilling that it could turn a man to stone if she tried hard enough. 

Dean was not expecting her to be as harsh and as direct with the guy, he admired that. He knew that a guy like this wouldn’t take no for an answer, so he pushed out of his chair loudly and started to make his way towards them.

As she was turning to leave the counter, the guy grabs her by her bicep and pulls her into him, “You’re a good for nothing bitch, is what you are–”

Dean walks faster, boots thudding against the worn out floorboards. “Hey!” he barked. His voice low and dangerous as he got right in the drunk’s face. “When a lady says no, you listen. Now, let her go before this gets ugly.”

The man sneered then released her, muttering curses under his breath as he stumbled back to his friend. Dean turns to the bartender, his expression sharp. “And you–what kind of place are you running where this shit flies? Do better.”

He turns around to meet the woman, “You okay?”

She nods, her hardened features softening just a fraction at his kindness. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“It’s not a problem, Miss..?”

“Novena.” She smiles up at Dean and reaches her hand out to shake his. 

“I’m Dean.” He gave her a warm smile back and took her hand in his. Her handshake was firm, he’s even more impressed.

“I was actually getting you a drink, believe it or not.” Her voice was rid of any trace of bitterness that had been there before, “I saw you sitting by yourself and you looked upset. Thought I’d bring you another round.”

“Thank you, I definitely need it.” Dean takes the glass from her, his fingers brushing against hers. Novena tenses up and her gaze immediately meets his, but within a second her state of shock is gone. Dean notices but doesn’t think too much of it. He doesn’t mean to be cocky, but a lot of girls in the past have frozen up around him before. Usually from being a flirt but he’s made no effort tonight—maybe he still has the juice after all.

Novena gives him another smile, then makes her way back towards her seat. This was the first act of kindness anyone has shown him since he got back from purgatory, and it was refreshing. A total stranger noticed that he wasn’t doing alright. He had been standing in the same spot, staring into space long enough for the bartender to give him the look of, “dude, you good?” He wasn’t good, but maybe he could distract himself from his anxiety for a little while, she was mysterious and that intrigued Dean. 

Making his way over to her slowly, he notices that she had been making a sketch of someone. “Mind if I sit with you?” She closes her book when she hears his voice, as if not to be caught with her doodle. “I know it’s late and I, I don’t wanna seem like that scumbag over there—“

“Sit. I can tell a tortured soul when I see one,” she gestures with her hand for him to take the chair opposite from her. Novena emphasizes, “Please.”

Also not what he was expecting, but her voice was calm. Demanding but gentle. He does as he’s told.

“Yes ma’am.” They stare at each other, scanning each other's features in a way that is more intimate than it should be. Dean finally speaks up, “So, if you’re a tortured soul like me, what’re you doing out so late on a Tuesday?”

Novena sighs and takes a sip of her drink, “There’s a lot going on but to keep it sweet and simple, my dad recently passed, my boyfriend, well…ex now, destroyed my car when I ended things,” with sad eyes, she looks down at her fingers, fiddling with one of the rings she has on. She clears her throat before asking, “What about you, Mr-New-In-Town? What brings you into The Salty Dog?”

Dean lets out a small chuckle at her enthusiasm when saying the name of the bar, but says seriously, “I’m sorry to hear about your dad, I am. It’s not easy losing a parent,” He takes a swig of his whiskey, thinking of Bobby especially. “I uh, lost my father figure not too long ago as well.”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry.” Novena’s brows furrow and she places her hand over Dean’s so naturally, gently rubbing her thumb over the top of his knuckles. 

He’s taken aback by this, he almost jumps at her touch. His eyes dart to hers and he’s met with empathy and compassion; there’s a lump in his throat that’s unbelievably painful with the grief that’s been hidden away. Not one soul has been able to break through Dean’s wall as easily as the woman before him. His eyes are jumping from their hands to the table, scoping out the rest of the bar to see if anyone is paying attention, which no one was, then back up to Novena. Tears were threatening to escape the corners of his eyes and once he saw that her mascara had run down her face, was when Dean let go. She removed her hand from his, leaned over the small table, cupped his face and wiped away the dampness on his skin. 

It almost felt like Novena was taking away his pain with her touch, and it looked like it too. The eye contact hadn’t broke since he looked up at her. Dean was a mess and he couldn’t decipher if what he was seeing was a figment of his imagination or not—but it seemed like his struggle was held within her eyes? There was this humming noise that was coming from somewhere, the jukebox or the overhead lights maybe, that was soothing. Ultimately easing Dean to breathe slower and to quiet his racing thoughts. 

“I, I don’t know what that was.” Dean whispers, “I’m sorry, that’s embarrassing. This never happens to me…” he gestures at himself.

Novena pulled away from him concerningly, “Showing human emotion never happens to you?” 

“Wow—that’s not what I was expecting you to say. But, yeah. I usually don’t allow myself to show people how I’m feeling. To be frank, I don’t know why I’m telling you this. Long day I suppose.”

She didn’t know how to respond to him. He’s different from other men she’s met, that’s a given. Dean almost immediately crumbled under her touch. It felt like he was begging to let someone in, wanting to be understood. If they hadn’t mentioned that they’ve both lost someone dear to them, then Dean probably wouldn’t have been easy to get a reading from. Novena liked that he related so much to her, that Dean felt so deeply that his emotions had transferred through their touch.

He was trying to brush off what had just happened. Novena could see it in his eyes, that he was questioning the intense moment they shared. Dean covered his face with both of his hands and sighed. This was the perfect moment to change subjects.

“I better get going, it’s getting late–I have to be up early for work. But I’ll see you around?”

—

A/N: Any and all feedback is appreciated! Feel free to send me asks or dm’s :)) I'm just making things up as I go, so be patient with me lol. This will be multiple parts as well as blurbs. I have a busy schedule but I’m going to try my best to write these chapters cuz I’m really obsessed with the idea I have!

tags! @ambiguous-avery

[ambiguous-avery]

Chasing Shadows, Part 1

Dean Winchester x OC fem!Touched!Reader/You | WC: 2,999

Summary: She’s never been afraid of the dark, not really. She’s more concerned about getting lost in it. He’s haunted by every dark deed he’s ever done. It’s constantly nipping at his heels like a hell hound. He’s her light in the dark, and she’s the one bit of darkness he’s willing to embrace.

A series of murders has drawn the Winchesters to your small town, and for some reason, you’re at the center of it all. What are you hiding? And why does it seem to be painting a target on those around you?

Tags/Warnings: No use of Y/N, canon-typical violence, eventual romance,  eventual smut,  fluff and angst, POV alternating (sometimes a little all over the place), no beta we die like men

Disclaimer: The base concept of Touched comes from @aylacavebear and is used with permission. I’ve taken creative liberties with it.

A/N: I’ve never posted any of my work anywhere before, so this is a huge leap of faith for me. I’ve just gotten into the Supernatural fandom, so forgive me if there are things that don’t line up with the canon. I’m still in the early seasons of the show! I’m also new to writing x reader fics, so feedback is always welcome! I'll probably end up adding warnings as this goes on.

This was the fifth murder in two weeks. The reports Sam had found had hinted at possible ritual killings due to the bodies reportedly being bloodless, but really, the Winchesters knew better. Everything about the deaths screamed vampires, so the question was less about ‘what’ was killing and more about ‘how many’ were doing the killing. Dean adjusted the collar of his suit and squared his shoulders before knocking on the door in front of him. Their initial snooping into the cases had led them to the most recent victim’s best friend. You.

“Hello,” Dean said your name and flashed his fake FBI badge with practiced ease. “I’m Agent Ehart; this is Agent Greer. We were hoping we could ask you some questions.” You gave each of them a quick visual once-over before you stepped aside and opened the door wider for them. They each gave a quick, appreciative nod and situated themselves on a couch in the living room, looking wholly out of place against the decorations and outdated couch fabric.

“Can I get either of you something to drink?” you asked. Sam shook his head.

“We’re alright, thank you. I’d like to start off with "we're very sorry for your loss." I’m sure it isn’t easy,” he began, resting his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers together.

“Thank you,” your tone was clipped as you sat down across from them. Your body language spoke volumes. The way your shoulders were hunched. The way you almost seemed to curl in on yourself, trying to be as small as possible. Your eyes were still red and swollen, the result of at least one recent cry session, probably more. “I already spoke with the police.”

“We understand. See, we’re conducting our own investigation. With so many recent incidents happening in such a short span of time, we’ve been called in,” Sam said, keeping his tone polite but professional.

“So… five deaths is the threshold for the police to bring in the big guns, huh?” They thought you might have been trying to make a joke, but there wasn’t any humor in your voice. Dean wet his lips before responding.

“Something like that… if it isn’t too much to ask, could you go over the night it happened? Anything stand out in your memory?”

You thought for a moment, running the night through your mind. As you reiterated the evening to them, they listened with rapt attention. You had been over the story so often and in so much detail that it was beginning to sound rehearsed. In a way, it sort of was. 

“We were out at a restaurant. We’ve both been so busy lately that we haven’t had some girl time, so we were catching up. It was uneventful, really,” you said with a half shrug. “The strangest thing about the night was a guy who crashed into her on our way out. But again, I’ve already told the police about him.” You looked at Agent Ehart, trying to get a read on him. Unsurprisingly, he wore a sort of grim determination on his face, but there was something else there. You weren’t sure you could put your finger on it. He seemed a bit young to be an agent – both of them did – but he carried the world-weariness of someone who had lived many more lifetimes than appearance would suggest. You wondered what kind of stories he might share over a drink or two.

“Tell me more about this guy,” the one with longer hair – Agent Greer, was it? – cut in. You jerked your head to look at the other agent, abruptly pulled back into the present moment.

“I dunno. There’s not much to say about him. We stepped out of the restaurant, and he walked right into her. Knocked her purse to the ground. All her stuff spilled out, and he couldn’t even be bothered to stop and apologize. Kinda seemed like he was drunk with the way he was stumbling on his feet.” You shifted a bit in your seat. Now was hardly the time to get distracted, not when you were a hair's breadth away from falling to pieces.

“Have you seen him around town before?” the same agent continued.

“Can’t say I have. Then again, I tend to keep to myself when I’m out and about. I don’t think I’d be able to recognize the barista I see every few days if I passed them in a grocery store.”

“I see… and you’re sure there’s nothing else you can think of that seems… odd to you? Really, any detail you might feel doesn’t matter might end up being quite significant. No matter how unbelievable it might be.” You were quiet for a moment, debating. “I promise, there’s nothing you can tell us that we haven’t heard before,” Agent Greer pushed. Something about the hazel-eyed agent’s tone made his words heavier, like there was a more profound meaning behind them than he was letting on. You swallowed hard, gaze dropping to the ground. 

The first chink in your carefully curated mask showed as a flicker of something flashed behind your eyes. The short-haired agent leaned forward, the movement catching your attention. You looked up, and you’re sure that if circumstances were different, you could’ve gotten lost in the agent’s green eyes. 

“Sweetheart, please. We want to catch this guy and keep him from killing anyone else.” His voice was soft and sounded more genuine than the other officers who had questioned you the day before, and somehow, the ‘sweetheart’ nickname didn’t grate on you coming from him. Maybe it was the way his voice rolled over you. Or maybe it was because he had a pretty face.

“I didn’t do this,” you said quietly. 

“I know you didn’t.”

“I feel like I’m going crazy or I’m being vain or something.” You maintained your eye contact with him as though it would make him believe you. “I knew them. All of them. Not well, mind you. Some more than others.” The crack in your mask splintered further. “I know how this looks, but I swear I didn’t have anything to do with it. I know you don’t believe me, but I promise on everything that matters to me.” Your voice cracked, and you squeezed your eyes shut, the familiar feeling of stinging tears behind your eyelids. The sound of fabric rustling drew your attention, and when you opened your eyes, the agent who called you ‘sweetheart’ was standing beside you, a reassuring hand on your shoulder. You leaned into the touch slightly. He was warm, and the touch was comforting.

“Don’t worry. You can tell us anything. We’ll get him,” he said.

They didn’t get much more information out of you. Your inability to give them a solid description of the guy you saw outside of the restaurant was a real damper on their investigation. However, Dean had left a card with his name and number with you on the off chance you remembered anything else. With a heavy sigh, Dean set the duffel bag he was holding onto the motel bed, running a hand through his hair. Sam was seated at the small table in the room, typing away on his laptop. 

“What do you think, Sammy? Still dealing with a vamp?” The two had done away with the stiff suits, and Dean was happier back in his t-shirt and denim.

“I mean, every report I find talks about the bodies being exsanguinated. I don’t know many other creatures that would do that.” Sam turned his computer, letting Dean look over the documents they had gotten from the local police.

“What about a chupacabra?” Dean suggested.

“Everything I can find about those says they go for livestock rather than humans. Vamps fit the bill the best.”

“Yeah, but… the thing that I can’t figure out is ‘why her’? She said she spent time with each of them the same day they were attacked. Vamps don’t usually have a pattern that centers around one person,” Dean said, leaning over to skim the computer screen.

“Maybe it’s a vengeful spirit that’s latched onto her?”

“That would explain the victims’ connection to her but not the blood loss. Unless it has something to do with how the spirit died. But even then, there’s no report of the crime scenes being particularly bloody.” Sam leaned back in his seat as Dean spoke, drumming his fingers on the table. 

“And we’re positive she’s not a part of all of this? She said she didn’t tell the police about her connections with the first vic because she didn’t want eyes on her. That’s not something that someone innocent says,” Sam asked while taking his laptop back and scrolling through the reports again, as if some new detail would stand out to him. 

You had said that you knew all the victims, but the extent of which varied greatly. The first one was an old friend of your parents who you didn’t interact with much, but the one time you did, he was attacked. Victim two was a coworker in a different department who was attacked after a lunch meeting with you. Number three was a taxi driver who had driven you home after a late night at the office, and number four was someone you had met at a bar and shared a drink or two with. Ultimately, though, you hadn’t ended up going home with him. And the most recent one had been your best friend, one you had just hung out with the night of the attack. You weren’t wrong. It was extremely suspicious that you had a connection to all of them, no matter how insignificant it seemed. You had never mentioned your connection to the first victim, and the next three had far stronger connections with others that the police never really glanced your way. Number five was the first time they had looked closely at you, but without the knowledge of your link to any of the others, nothing looked suspicious to them. 

The Winchesters weren’t buying it. 

They spent the better part of the day doing as much digging into the cases as they could, even managing to schmooze their way into the morgue to see the body. As the medical examiner pulled back the sheet to reveal the body, both Dean and Sam’s gazes locked onto the very obvious bite mark on the victim’s neck. 

“Kinda gruesome, isn’t it?” the medical examiner asked. He was a younger kid, probably in his mid twenties, if they had to guess. 

“You can say that again,” Dean mumbled, slowly looking up and down the body.

“All the victims have the same kind of wound on them?” Sam asked, motioning to his own neck. The examiner nodded. 

“Unfortunately so. I try not to jump to conclusions, but I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors of these being ritual killings. Hard not to assume the worst when everything’s pointing in the same direction. Have you guys seen anything like this before?”

“Not exactly like this,” Dean said, shaking his head. 

Everything pointed to a cut and dry vamp nest except for the way they were targeting victims. Why you? More specifically, why those around you but not you directly? Maybe one of the vamps had a vendetta? That would’ve only made partial sense. Only two of the victims seemed to have a more profound connection to you – the neighbor and the best friend. They spent the drive back to the hotel running through every possibility. The sun was sinking behind the hills by the time Dean got out of the shower and dressed. 

“There has to be something we’re missing,” he said as he took a seat on the bed.He grabbed the jar of Dead Man’s Blood from the duffel bag he had shoved beneath the bed and spun it in his hands, his leg bouncing. They had exhausted just about every avenue including variations of vampires in different myths and lore across the world. Nothing was fitting the bill.

“We can always go back and ask her more questions tomorrow,” Sam offered.

“Yeah but what do we even ask? She already said she has no idea why anyone or anything would target her. And I know lying isn’t completely out of the realm of possibility, but it just seems... unlikely. Our last option is that she’s in on it, and something’s telling me that’s not the case.”

“You sure you’re thinking with the right head about that?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh please, do you think I’m blind?” Sam scoffed, a light smile playing on his lips. “You’re a sucker for those big, doe ‘help me’ eyes.”

“Shut up,” Dean grumbled, “She’s a pretty girl in a shitty situation.” The jar of blood was still in his hand, the liquid sloshing around as he tilted it back and forth. Sam rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly.

“Yeah, and you’re gonna swoop in, save the day, get the girl, and ride off into the sunset.” Dean flashed him his signature boyish grin, the kind of grin that Sam knew was going to get them into trouble sooner rather than later. “Look, just keep it in your pants until we figure this out, yeah?” He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back in his chair. Maybe if they looked more into your connection with the victims, something else would show up. 

Dean’s phone went off in his pocket, and he set the jar down on the bedside table before fishing it out of his pocket. He tilted his head to the side slightly as he looked at the number. He didn’t recognize it.

“Hello?” He asked, hitting the speaker button.

“Dean?” your voice crackled over the phone’s crappy speakers. You sounded scared. Dean was on his feet, grabbing the Impala’s keys from his other pocket as you spoke. “I think I’m being followed.”

“Where are you at, sweetheart? We’re on our way.” You rattled off a cross street then for good measure, gave a landmark for reference. “Stay around other people, anywhere with lots of foot traffic.” There was no response.

The part of town you had directed them to was the opposite of what Dean had advised. It was a commercial area some distance away from the downtown shopping district several blocks over. What in the world were you doing out this late with all the recent incidents? You had better not have been trying to solve this yourself. Dean had parked, and the two of them armed themselves for a fight. On second thought, maybe it was a blessing in disguise that you had been out of the way of others. There was no one to judge them as they briskly moved down the sidewalk, checking down the alleys between the buildings. The sound of a scuffle and a pained cry from the next building up caught their ears, and the two of them hoofed it.

The boys turned the corner just in time to watch the vampire sink his teeth into you. The scream in your throat died to a soft whimper, hands uselessly grabbing at the vampire’s arms as it held you against the brick wall. Dean was the first to respond, firing off a bullet soaked in Dead Man’s Blood before Sam even had a chance to aim. It took two more shots before the vampire finally relented, dropping you to the ground, fangs still holding a chunk of your flesh it ripped from you. It clutched at its side where the bullets had sunken in before turning and booking it around the corner. Dean and Sam shared a knowing glance before Dean chased after it. Sam tucked his own gun into the waistband of his pants and knelt down beside you, worry and concern and anger etched into his features. Your eyes had slid closed, and your own blood soaked your shirt, oozing from the open wound in your neck. Sam gingerly eased you so you were sitting up rather than lying in a crumpled heap on the cold ground. He winced, quickly finding your wrist to check for a pulse. Even with his expectations on the ground, Sam was still disappointed when he didn’t feel anything.

“Shit... I’m sorry,” he breathed, brushing stray hair from your face. “I’m sorry we weren’t quick enough.” He stood up, pulled out his own gun, and chased after Dean, mentally promising that he’d make it up to you by killing this son of a bitch.

“I’m telling you, Sam, it was weird. It was like the Dead Man’s Blood had no effect. No lethargy, no weakening of his abilities, nothing. We saw his teeth. If that thing ain’t a vamp, then I’m the queen of England.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Maybe it’s because we caught him mid-feed? Maybe the fresh and dead blood cancel each other out in a way?”

“I dunno. But if there’s one, there’s bound to be a nest of them. And we’re gonna need a lot more blood than what we have on hand. Which alley did you leave the vic down?”

“Seriously, Dean?” Sam stopped abruptly, grabbing Dean’s shoulder and staring hard at him. Dean ran a hand over his face and pressed his lips together in a tight line.

“Look, it’s better to do it before the body’s locked behind yellow tape. We need every advantage we can get, and we might as well make her death worth something. Plus, she gets revenge on her killer. It’s a win-win situation.” Sam sighed and shook his head, letting his hand fall away from Dean.

“I hate it when you make sense,” he grumbled, turning the corner. The two of them stopped dead in their tracks.

“Sam...” Dean began slowly, “where’s the body?” Sam gaped at the empty alleyway. For a moment, he thought maybe he had made a wrong turn, but he recognized the dumpster with the mattress sticking out of it. 

“That is a great question...”

---

Thank you for reading, please feel free to leave a like, comment, or reblog! I would be forever grateful! 💜💜💜

Part 2

[moonlight-rider25]

In case you were looking for a Supernatural fanfic series to read...check this out...https://www.tumblr.com/moonlight-rider25/695202029229031425/stories?source=share

[rosemariad]

were you dissatisfied with spn's ending?

ever think Sam and Dean’s story should've ended differently?

I whipped up a little something. all these ideas started flowing in my head when I reached season 8. So I went for it and started writing my take on SPN. Since the concept of multiple universes was thrown out there in the show, I started to play with that a little more, and I've wound up writing a whole canon-divergent (1 of my top 2 fav kinds of fic) series going through most of the events of SPN up to the bitter end.

The perfect diverging point (for me anyway): the end of episode 4x21, after Sam and Dean fight and Sam walks out of that room.

Interested? Buckle up:

series teaser: Sam & Dean are no strangers to violence - far from it. What they don't seem to realize yet is they're locked in a cycle, but not one of their own making. Their only hope - someone no one could have ever foreseen who dramatically changes their lives forever by first causing the return of someone Sam thought he'd never see again.

Part 1 of my series SPN: Roads Untaken - Book 1 - What Show You Been Watching?

read here on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61122787/chapters/156174859

covering the era between 4x21 and the season 5 finale swan song, but since it's Canon divergent, not everything is exactly the same as you'd remember.

Destiel fans - be forewarned, it's not explicit yet, but i am DEFINITELY working up to their pairing up, by not just revisiting classic Destiel moments, but thanks to this fanfic, some new ones too 😀

why did i add Jessica? well... I did say it was a canon divergent series 😁

[aylacavebear]

The Traveler Masterlist

You're from a specific dimension, Solaris Eclipse. It was a dimension of magic. When your kind, the Eldrathiren, turned fifteen, your unique power would awaken within you. Most times, it was something small, levitation, teleportation, creation, elemental manipulation, and things like that. Once in a while, a fifteen-year-old would just disappear, and those were called Travelers. None of them had ever returned. Your parents had told you stories about them, and you hoped that wouldn't happen to you.

Each Chapter will have its warnings. Pairing Eventually Dean Winchester x OC Reader & Sam Winchester x OC Reader.

A/N: If you'd like to get in on the Dimensional Traveling, go to this link and leave me with a comment, or several, with as much or as little detail about the dimension you'd like the Traveler to end up in. If you'd like to have something specific happen, share that too. I'll make sure that you get credit for the idea you shared in the chapter in which your dimension is featured. I'd love to have as many readers involved as possible. I think this could be a lot of fun.

As always, if you'd like to be tagged, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list.

A/N: 3/31/24 - have to edit the tags a bit, as this one is writing itself in a way I hadn't seen, nor meant for it to go.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 - Earth, 1997 Pt. 1 Chapter 3 - Earth, 1997 Pt. 2 Chapter 4 - Twilight Veil Chapter 5 - Crystalis Canopy Chapter 6 - The Shadowed Abyss Chapter 7 - Earth, 2013 Pt. 1 Chapter 8 - Earth, 2013 Pt. 2 Chapter 9 - Aqualumina Chapter 10 - Levithar Labyrinth Chapter 11 - Earth, 1999 pt 1 Chapter 12 - Earth, 1999 pt 2 Chapter 13 - Earth, 1999 pt 3 Chapter 14 - Wonderland pt. 1 Chapter 15 - Wonderland pt. 2 Chapter 16 - Wonderland pt. 3 Chapter 17 - Wonderland pt. 4 Chapter 18 - Mechoria pt. 1 Chapter 19 - Mechoria pt. 2 Chapter 20 - Mechoria pt. 3 Chapter 21 - Mechoria pt. 4 Chapter 22 - Earth, 1999 & Mechoria Chapter 23 - A World Between Worlds Chapter 24 - Earth, End of January 2002

(There will be more, and I'll be posting these again as soon as I'm done with Wonderland, which has been a joy to write.)

Tag List: @littlemadamred @mxltifxnd0m @foxyjwls007 @supernaturalfreakout @roseblue373

@flamencodiva @reignsboy19 @stillhere197 @hobby27 @megs-gadom

[supernaturallyafreak]

Supernatural: Season 5, Episode 3

It's the “Cas... Personal space” scene.

--------------------

The dim bathroom light flickered as Dean stood at the sink, his hands submerged in soapy water as he scrubbed furiously at the leather of his jacket. The rhythmic sound of water sloshing was a poor distraction from the whirlwind in his head—another day, another apocalypse, another weight on his shoulders he couldn’t shrug off.

And then he felt it—the soft flutter in the air that always made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Castiel.

Dean didn’t need to turn around to know the angel was standing just behind him, way too close for comfort. His eyes flicked up to the mirror, and sure enough, there was Cas, blue eyes staring at him with that unnerving intensity, close enough that their reflections almost blurred together.

“Damn it, Cas!” Dean spun around, water dripping from his hands. “Do you ever knock? Or, I don’t know, use the damn door?”

“I didn’t think it necessary,” Castiel replied evenly, stepping closer instead of backing away. “You looked distressed.”

“Yeah, well, showing up unannounced isn’t exactly calming!” Dean growled, motioning vaguely at the space—or lack thereof—between them. “Personal space, Cas. We’ve talked about this.”Castiel tilted his head, his unreadable gaze fixed on Dean like he was dissecting him. “You keep saying that, but I don’t think it’s what you actually want.”

Dean froze, his brow furrowing. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” “You push people away,” Castiel said, his voice low but steady. “But you don’t actually want to be alone.” Dean huffed a humorless laugh, shaking his head as he turned back to the sink. “Great. Now you’re Dr. Phil.”

Before he could start scrubbing again, he felt a hand on his arm, firm and grounding. Castiel’s grip wasn’t rough, but it was unyielding, and when Dean glanced down at it, his chest tightened.

“Dean,” Castiel said softly, his voice close enough that Dean could feel his breath on the back of his neck. “I see you. You carry more than anyone should, and you do it alone. But you don’t have to.”

Dean swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. “Cas,” he started, his voice gruff, “you don’t get it. I’m not exactly the kind of guy people stick around for. Hell, I’m not even sure I want—”

“I stick around,” Castiel interrupted, his tone sharper now, cutting through Dean’s self-deprecation like a blade. He stepped closer, his hand sliding up to Dean’s shoulder, his fingers curling into the fabric of his t-shirt. “I stay because I want to. And I think you want me here too.”

Dean turned slowly, his back pressing against the counter as Castiel stepped into his space, the air between them crackling with something that made Dean’s pulse pound in his ears. “You really don’t do subtle, do you?” Dean muttered, his voice quieter now, his usual bravado faltering under Castiel’s unwavering gaze.

“Subtlety hasn’t been effective,” Castiel replied, and before Dean could fire back, Castiel’s hand slid up, cupping the side of Dean’s neck, his thumb brushing over the edge of his jaw in a way that made Dean’s breath hitch.

“Cas…” Dean’s voice was rough, low, and edged with something he couldn’t quite suppress—something that made him lean into Castiel’s touch despite himself.

“I’ve watched you push away everyone who tries to care for you,” Castiel murmured, his voice a soft rumble that seemed to resonate in the small bathroom. “But you don’t push me away. Why?”

Dean’s eyes flicked down to Castiel’s lips, and then back up to those damn intense blue eyes that always seemed to strip him bare. “I don’t… I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice barely audible.

Castiel’s thumb brushed over Dean’s jaw again, his touch impossibly tender for someone so commanding. “I think you do,” he said quietly, leaning in, his lips hovering just above Dean’s. “Let me show you.”

And then, before Dean could think better of it, Castiel closed the distance, his lips pressing firmly against Dean’s in a kiss that was anything but hesitant. It was possessive, demanding in a way that made Dean’s knees go weak, his hands instinctively grabbing at Castiel’s trench coat to steady himself.

Dean groaned against Castiel’s lips, his grip tightening as the kiss deepened, heat sparking in his chest as Castiel’s hand slid from his neck to the small of his back, pulling him closer. Dean felt like he was drowning, and for the first time, he didn’t mind. He kissed back with just as much fervor, his hands slipping into Castiel’s coat and fisting the fabric as he poured every unspoken word into the moment.

When they finally broke apart, both of them breathing heavily, Castiel didn’t step back. His forehead rested against Dean’s, his hand still splayed across Dean’s back, anchoring him.

“You don’t have to be alone, Dean,” Castiel said softly, his voice steady despite the heat still lingering between them. “Not with me.”

Dean let out a shaky breath, his hands loosening their grip on Castiel’s coat but not letting go entirely. “Cas… you make this really hard to argue with.”

“Good,” Castiel replied, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Because I won’t let you.”

Dean laughed softly, the sound rough and almost disbelieving, but there was a warmth in his chest he hadn’t felt in a long time. “You’re somethin’ else, Cas,” he murmured, his hand coming up to rest lightly against Castiel’s chest, feeling the steady beat of his borrowed heart.

“And you’re worth it,” Castiel replied simply, his voice filled with a certainty that left no room for argument. And for once, Dean didn’t try. He just let himself be held.