#the thing is... Cas IS broken here and he does choose to remain this way and to some extent he doesn't have full capacity to make this

[spnorwhatever]

The Bone Trilogy by apokteino... much to think about

[myaimistrue]

to hell and back (read on ao3 here)

“Tell me the story,” Dean says quietly. It’s only under cover of darkness, with his head pillowed on Cas’s chest and their legs tangled together, safe and warm in their bed, that he’ll ever ask for this. Cas understands—it’s a story best told somewhere the demons of their past can’t reach them.

“We descended within minutes of you being taken,” Cas begins. He could tell this story by rote, if only because Dean has asked to hear it so often. But Dean always hangs onto his every word in these moments, so Cas chooses each of them carefully. “We all knew the fight would be tough, and it was expected that many of us wouldn’t return. I doubted I would survive, but it didn’t bother me. I believed whole-heartedly in the mission; the Righteous Man had to be saved.” Cas smiles when he says that, thinking that, in many ways, his mission has never changed. 

“When we arrived, it was madness. My garrison had countless battle plans prepared, but when faced with the realities of the Pit, they fell apart completely. So the new plan was to split up, and to get you in any way we could, at any cost.” Cas closes his eyes for a moment, remembers the flashing lights and the screaming, remembers the wild urgency of the mission and the way it matched every beat of the war drums. “My brothers and sisters couldn’t see you. No one could. But I could feel you.”

Cas thinks this is both Dean’s favorite and least favorite part, so he takes extra care to get it right. “I don’t know why I felt you when no one else could. Maybe I just happened to look in the right place. Maybe I got lucky. Whatever it was, I followed that feeling for years, your soul lighting the way as I went. I killed thousands of demons in the process; my blade saw more use than it had in millenia. And when you broke, I…” Cas doesn’t know that there are words for the regret he’d felt in that moment, the shame in not reaching Dean fast enough to stop it. He doesn’t think Dean would want to hear it, anyway, so he pushes forward. “The Host wanted to pull my garrison out and send another one in to get you later, since the seal had already broken. They felt like a delay wouldn’t matter. But like I said, I could feel you. So I asked for more time.” Cas feels his lips quirk into a small smile. “Well, maybe I demanded it. At any rate, they agreed to remain a little longer.”

Dean huffs out a little laugh, and fondly says, “Causing trouble all the way back then, huh?”

“Apparently.” Cas presses a kiss to the top of Dean’s head, simply because he can. “So I kept searching—I knew I was closer than I’d ever been, but it was still difficult to find you. And then, it was…” Cas lets the memory wash over him: perfect, golden warmth in the midst of all that desperation, all that agony. And he decides to let himself say more than he normally would when telling this story. Dean should hear it, he thinks. “I don’t know how to describe how it felt to see your soul. How there was nothing for so long, and then, all at once, there was everything. You were everything, all things good and right and beautiful.”

Dean fidgets uncomfortably. “Cas—”

Cas was anticipating this, and doesn’t let him finish. He shifts their positions so that they’re both lying on their sides facing one another; Dean’s eyes dart around, looking anywhere but at the man mere inches away. Cas reaches out to touch his face. “Dean, look at me.”

And though it clearly takes a herculean effort, he does. Cas is suffused with such pride and affection that he can’t help but lean forward and press a kiss to his lips. “My Dean,” Cas whispers when they separate, thumb running up and down his cheek. “My beloved.”

Dean closes his eyes, like it hurts to hear. Cas knows that for Dean, sometimes it does. So he keeps his hand gentle on Dean’s face, and he continues the story.

“I pulled you close to me. Almost like this.” Cas smiles, watches Dean’s lips twitch too. “I wrapped my wings around you so that you’d be safe as we escaped. Nothing could touch you. And when we made it out, I cried out to the Host: Dean Winchester is saved. It was a victory for Heaven, of course, but I was… I was grateful that you wouldn’t be there anymore. A soul like yours never belonged in Hell.”

Dean opens his eyes, shining with unshed tears. Cas runs his thumb along his cheek once, twice, before Dean says, “Did you know then?”

“What? That I loved you?”

“Yeah.”

Cas thinks about it for a moment. “I didn’t know. I don’t think I knew for a long time, and it was even longer before I understood all of its depth. But now, looking back,” Cas says, “I loved you the moment I saw your soul.”

Dean gives a watery laugh. “Love at first sight, huh?”

“Maybe for me,” Cas lets go of Dean’s face, moving his hand to rest gently on his hip. “I seem to recall you stabbing me.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Dean grins. “And I shot you.”

“You did,” Cas says, amused.

“To be fair, you were freaking me the fuck out. You walked in that barn and put on a damn light show for me and Bobby.” Dean’s eyes sparkle playfully, and Cas is in love. He’s so in love. “Except that was just for me, wasn’t it?”

Cas huffs, but he’s still unable to cover up his complete and total adoration. It’s okay, he thinks—Dean’s not doing a very good job of it, either. “I was still adjusting to my vessel.”

“You were showing off.” Dean reaches out and threads his fingers through Cas’s hair at the base of his skull. “It’s okay. It worked. I was impressed.”

“Oh, you were?” Cas decides that enough is enough and pulls him closer, pressing lingering kisses along the column of Dean’s throat. “Maybe I should do things like that more often.”

Dean sighs contentedly as Cas sucks a sweet mark below his jaw. “Maybe. It’s fun when you show off.”

They kiss for a few lazy, languid minutes. It’s very late, and as it grows even later, Cas hovers in a space near sleep, so relaxed and peaceful that each kiss feels like it’s part of a dream. Until Dean pulls back and says in a voice that wakes him right up, “Cas?”

“Yes?” Cas searches Dean’s face in the darkness.

“Thank you.” The words are nearly whispered. “Thank you. For saving me, for being here, for loving me. I don’t—” Dean’s breath catches, and he drops his head on Cas’s shoulder. His next words are muffled and warm against Cas’s skin. “Just… thank you.”

Cas gathers him close, and not for the first time, marvels at the precious thing that exists between the two of them. “You’re welcome, Dean.”

Dean doesn’t say anything else, but he holds Cas a little tighter. It’s alright—Cas understands.

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.30}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 4.7k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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"Yet. Right." Robin repeated in a sigh, then removed her wand from her hair when the bun started hurting her head. It did little to lessen the headache that was starting to drum through her skull, but shaking her hair out of the restraint at least took some of the tension away. Little victories like that were important too.

"Actually, we do have a few answers now." Snape said after a moment, after again watching gravity at work on untangling the mess of waves cascading down Robin's back. "Morgan did come in here, and he most likely was talking about the portrait today indeed. We still have to see about the earrings, in due time. Other than that, we now have an answer to a question that goes all the way back to the start of this term."

"What do you mean?"

"The night of the welcoming feast. Morgan brought it up himself today, which quite honestly is what made me draw the connection in the first place."

"Right… You mean the entire ordeal in the hallway which McGonagall brought to an end."

"Yes. During your encounter back then, Morgan wanted to hold on to your locket as a keepsake. That line of behavior would certainly make more sense if at that point he already was in the possession of the portrait, seeing as the locket is perhaps not the most obvious, but indeed the most palpable connection between you and the woman portrayed. He hardly would have known about the locket otherwise, seeing as it isn't the most noticeable piece of jewelry."

"You're absolutely right… I should've thought of that connection way earlier!" Robin groaned in annoyance at herself, astonishment at the fact, and concern at the implications. How Snape even remembered little details like that was incredible in its own right, but the fact that Morgan might have been after the locket because of the portrait was a revelation she hadn't thought would clear the picture of the past events in her mind quite so much. Things at last started making a little more sense. "My locket and the portrait are connected somehow, that much we already could tell years ago. But it makes me uneasy to think that Morgan has something to do with it."

"Likewise. Perhaps you should take it off for the time being, until the issue is solved."

"Yeah… The bracelet too, probably, sad as that makes me. It was the first thing you gave to me that I didn't have to return by the end of the week like the books I borrowed." She smiled up at him, a sad half smile that showed defeat more than humour. "But you were the first person who ever gave me anything for my birthday at all, who ever thought of me in the first place, and that's all that matters to me. I can live without a piece of jewelry."

"I really was the first to give you a gift for your birthday? In all of eighteen years?"

"Yes. The very best gift even, when you got Jorien and Cas to make me see the day as a real celebration worth having. But I have to admit, you asking Dumbledore to take the bracelet out of this room was also-..." Robin cut herself off in the middle of her sentence, then stopped in her track and stood glued to the spot. The nagging in her mind turned into a sledgehammer that tore down the brick wall that had obscured her sight before, but now that it was gone, she could finally see. Or rather, she could wonder.

"What is it?" Snape asked as he came to stand right in front of her, both concerned and curious as ever. That really was a good way to sum up both of their sentiments currently, concerned and curious. "Robin?"

"Wait a second…" She replied on autopilot, while her mind pondered a question that she finally decided to voice when she couldn't answer it herself. "When you wanted to give me the bracelet, did you ask Dumbledore before or after removing it from this room?"

"Before, obviously, because-…" Now it was him who stopped in the middle of the sentence, when he caught on to Robin's line of thought. "Because one cannot remove from this place what was left for storage here without the current headmaster's permission."

"That's what I thought." Robin replied with a long breath, then jumped into action to look around herself in a sudden spark of adrenaline, upon which she finally picked up a random book from a pile to her right. "Let's test that theory, shall we?"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, it-..." He didn't get any further, for Robin had crossed the remaining few steps towards the door, then opened it and tossed the book through the opening and out into the hallway beyond. She tried to, at least, for the book got caught in the air in the middle of the door frame, floating there for but a broken second, before it was catapulted right back into the room of hidden things at a speed that turned the harmless piece of literature into a lethal projectile. Robin was just lucky that Snape pulled her out of the way in an instant, otherwise the flying book would have taken quite a bit of work off Morgan's hands. They didn't have time for her timely end right now!

"You really are remarkable at putting yourself in harm's way." Snape huffed in concern-turned-annoyance when the loud clattering of the book's distant landing had subsided, and it was just then that Robin realized how desperately he was clawing onto her right now. She felt bad for repeatedly scaring him in an instant; first the thing with Morgan –which hadn't technically been her fault, but it still counted to worry him– and now this thoughtlessness on her end. Or rather the result of too much thinking, and too little care for the real world results in contrast to the intellectual gain of the endeavour. Why was she only ever truly scared of getting hurt by people, not by something she did to herself? It was one more thing to work on at some point.

"You're remarkable at keeping me out of harm's way in return. And to be fair, I didn't think it would do that out of all the things it could've done." She finally replied with a weak half smile as she looked up at him. No. Humour wouldn't do now, that much was clearly written on his face. She sighed in resignation. "I'm sorry. That was stupid of me, I should've known better. This whole day, the thing with Morgan… it has thrown me into an odd ambivalence myself. I'm absolutely terrified and at the same time all the adrenaline makes me act like I'm bloody invincible. But that's no excuse, it really was just stupid of me and I'm sorry."

"Coming that close to death doesn't pass by anyone without consequences. Neither does torture." He said after a few seconds of silence, with an expression almost as guilty as Robin's own. "It is only too reasonable that your behaviour is rather erratic, and even if I cannot say I appreciate it, I do very well understand it. If anything, I am surprised by how well you seem to cope with the situation."

"It's not the first time I've come closer to death than anyone should. Only the first time I know who the person is that wants to see me dead." She shrugged in return, but after taking one glance at the expression of prevailing concern on Snape's face, she rested her forehead against his shoulder and gave in to the urge to lean into him once more with a sigh. She knew that he didn't mind in the least… and the work that kept her on her feet might as well wait for a minute. "To be honest, it's currently less coping and more of simply repressing and pushing through. Just wait until tonight when I actually have the time to come down from the adrenaline… It'll be a nightmare."

"I will be there." He replied quietly, holding her closer against himself than his calm demeanour would suggest, then remained silent for a moment longer before speaking on. "Stay with me tonight."

"That must be a first." Robin chuckled quietly, but kept her eyes closed to enjoy at least this short moment of calm for now. "Usually I have to pretend to be asleep for you to let me stay over in your rooms."

"You are terrible at pretending, I can always tell when you do."

"Only because I want you to."

"I know…" He replied in as close to a sigh as his composure allowed. "And I know that I will not be able to close my eyes for even a minute tonight if you are not with me."

"Not without seeing all that could have been if things had ended differently. Without the shadows and ghosts and darkness. I know, all too well." She said, then smiled into the cloud of fabric around her. "And in addition to that, it's been way too long since I stayed over last, even though I always love to. Whenever it's possible. You know that."

"I do indeed."

"And I love you. Beyond what's possible."

"I know." His tone let on a hint of a smile, then he placed a fleeting kiss on the top of her head while his arms around her tightened their hold so much that Robin had to smile. He never said he loved her with words in return. He didn't need to.

"We should get back to work… It's almost time for dinner, and I want to check Morgan's office before then." She said after taking a deep breath to savour the comforting scent of him, of home. "I really have no wish to run into him again today. Especially not after just discovering that we are the underdogs in this entire issue."

"What makes you think that we are?"

"Isn't it obvious?" She asked as she pulled back at last, and fully snapped back into work mode as they left the room of hidden things behind to walk through the dark corridors of the castle again. "If Morgan had to ask for Dumbledore's permission to take the painting, then the old man must know why Morgan wanted it in the first place. He wouldn't have given him the permission if he hadn't seen through his reasons entirely."

"I agree."

"So Dumbledore knows why this is happening, he knows Morgan's reasons. He knows what Morgan is doing to me. He gave Morgan the permission to keep the painting, and he has let him proceed in what he has been doing to me for years now."

"Indeed. But we have been aware of that problem for a while now."

"Dumbledore never does anything that isn't to his own advantage. And if he lets Morgan do all that to me…" Robin sighed gravely, and looked up at Snape with the most serious expression. "I think Dumbledore wants Morgan to kill me."

"That is-..." Snape cut himself and his automatic response off in an instant, but he returned Robin's dark expression nonetheless for a moment while her words seemed to run circles in his mind. Finally, he seemed to find his own line of thought again. "While I do have to agree with your reasoning, there is still a lot speaking against the conclusion you came to. I am not saying you aren't right, but I believe there is more to it than that. You are leaving certain matters out of the equation."

"And what would that be?"

"Me, for example."

"You?" Robin frowned at him in confusion. "You'll have to elaborate on that."

"If Dumbledore wanted you dead, why would he have been in favour of the connection between you and me right from the start, and at every point since?" Snape quirked an eyebrow at Robin in return. "He is a brilliant man, I have no doubt he knew that we would end up where we are now long before we did. Thus he must have known that we would always stand two against one in the end. My involvement makes it infinitely more difficult to have you killed, which in return would make it unreasonable for him to encourage our relations. "

"You're right… That doesn't add up." Robin mused with a lingering frown. "Neither does the book he gave me, now that I think about it. Ensuring that I know more about the unforgivables than the person he wants to see killing me would be an odd way to prepare me for slaughter."

"Correct."

"What a fucking mess…" Robin groaned under her breath, then rolled her eyes to herself and at the ceiling before taking a deep breath to regain some composure. "So if Dumbledore doesn't want me dead, then why would he let Morgan proceed in trying to kill me? It's not like he couldn't put an immediate end to those efforts if he actually wanted to…"

"That we will find out. Morgan's reasons as well as Dumbledore's."

"With my luck, I probably have to die to prevent the world's impending demise or something likely unlikely… The most exaggeratedly dramatic thing we could ever think of, that will probably be my fate. Just for irony's sake."

"I will gladly see the world in ashes before I let you die."

"I know." She had to smile yet again, and couldn't resist to take his hand and give it a gentle squeeze even though they were in public. If one wanted to call a secret passageway from the seventh floor down to the fourth 'public', that is. "But whether it's the world we're saving or just me, I refuse to die before I graduate. I've put far too much effort into my essays and homework recently to let that all go to waste!"

Snape let out something that sounded like a snort and a scoff at once, and quietly shook his head to himself as they finally reached the fourth floor and crossed over into another corridor to continue their path towards Morgan's classroom. Robin was content with the reaction, and focused back on the matter at hand.

"How do we go on from here?" She asked in a whisper only, for who knew which prying ears might be nearby in a public hallway like this. "I mean… If we find it here, how do we go on?"

"We could confront the headmaster, for example. With a piece of evidence like that, not even he could deny his involvement in the issue. He might not give us the truth, but perhaps more leads to follow nonetheless."

"That sounds as close to a plan as we will probably get." Robin nodded, more to herself than to him. "In any case, McGonagall seems to know something about this entire thing as well, and I'm not convinced she's too happy about any of this either. She wanted to tell me, but the headmaster obviously asked her not to, and I at least can respect her loyalty. Too bad it is Dumbledore who is at the receiving end of it… She would make a good ally."

"Curious that you have taken a liking to Minerva after all."

"Oh, you know… If McGonagall can work with Jorien, who really isn't the easiest person to deal with from my own experience, she deserves some credit at least, if not my sincere respect."

"Funny." Snape replied with a not-smirk. "A while ago, she said much the same thing about you, for working with me."

Robin had to bite her lip quite hard to keep from snorting. They were in close proximity to the defense classroom, and loud noises like that were a no-go at this point if they wanted to successfully break and enter without drawing attention. So she settled for a soundless laugh, and a small smirk to follow it up.

"I'm glad someone recognizes the troubles of working with you at last." She whispered back softly, glancing up at Snape for but a second, which in return sufficed to take notice of the feigned glare and the not-smirk. Good… humour might do them good at this point.

"If anything, you brought the trouble into my life." He protested with a huff, while checking the corridor for anyone or anything that could observe them. Then he opened the door to the classroom with the same spell that sealed his own down in the dungeons. Robin was surprised, but very much pleased that he seemed to be doing all the breaking for now, and she only had to enter.

"I didn't bring trouble into your life!" She replied nonetheless as they walked into the room, after she'd closed the door behind them and locked it back up. It was no secret that Morgan never came to his classroom nor his office on weekends… Thus the risk of getting caught in here on this late afternoon really was minimal. "As far as I remember, you have far more trouble with people who are not me."

"That, for once, is true." He mused, but kept his eyes on the door to the office they were now approaching. "But you made me realize that I have trouble with everyone who isn't you. Before I met you, I simply thought the world was supposed to be cold and cruel like that, but then you had to saunter into my life and make me question every single thing I believed to know. You just had to show me happiness and thereby make everything that isn't you straight up unbearable, didn't you?" His sigh was dripping with so much feigned annoyance and the utmost irony that Robin couldn't help snorting at last.

"I won't apologise for bringing trouble into your life in that case." She smiled as she watched him working on the sturdy wooden door with spells she doubted were even suitable for the occasion. But she let him proceed anyway. "Seeing as the trouble only extends to people who aren't me."

"I did not say that, nor would I ever dare to." He returned a half-smirk, which made Robin roll her eyes with an even wider smile.

"Why is that?" She finally asked in an attempt not to laugh. They were breaking in somewhere… This wasn't the time for teasing and jokes, and yet they had chosen precisely this time to humour each other indeed. Oh well, why start being ordinary now, after all.

"I might have been surprised for a second, that you didn't consider breaking into my colleague's office as trouble, but then I remembered your liberal approach to breaking into places, which you displayed on multiple occasions last summer. Now, I am led to believe that perhaps you are trouble after all."

"And what if I am?" She raised her eyebrows at him with a small smirk. "Seeing as you've been causing trouble together with me all this time, I could say you're no better."

"You certainly are better at breaking into places than I am." He stated with a scowl at the still closed door, then quirked an eyebrow at Robin. "Would you be so kind to open the door now or is watching me fail too amusing for that?"

"It is quite amusing, but I'll open the door nonetheless." Robin chuckled at his feigned annoyance, then went to make quick work of Morgan's more than poor wards and locks. Thirty seconds later, the door was open, and a smug expression painted on her face as she looked up at Snape at last. "There you go. Anything else I can assist you with?"

"Do shut up, will you?" He grumbled, but Robin only had to snicker as they went to search the office. She knew that he was impressed with her knowledge of legal spells, and even more so by her knowledge of what was (in her opinion unrightfully) considered dark magic. That area didn't only extend to curses after all, and more often than not some of those unseemly spells served them better in their work than the school taught ones did. Either way, right now she knew that his entire dismissive demeanour was merely meant to humour her, and it really did serve that purpose wonderfully well.

After a good ten minutes of searching with as well as without magic, they had to realize though that the portrait wasn't here, nor was anything else that could've given them a clue about the current mysteries. Disappointed but not yet defeated, they locked the office door back up the way they had found it and made their way back out into the hallway. Unseen as ever. By now, it was about dinnertime, and thus they redirected their destination to the great hall instead of the dungeons.

"His private rooms will be a lot more difficult to search." Robin sighed as they reached the staircase that luckily was yet -or already- void of students. "He spends most of his time working from there, especially in the evenings. Or at least that's what I've heard. My information about him doesn't stretch beyond the gossip that makes rounds these days."

"We have to be certain he won't interrupt our search, or it would pose an ideal opportunity for him to justify another attempt on your life. Removing him from the castle shouldn't be a problem though, I believe I can arrange that without drawing too much attention to our goals."

"Wait, what? You can?"

"Years of knowing each other, and you still doubt me. Unbelievable."

"I wouldn't dare to."

He returned a small glare upon her sarcastic tone, but beneath the public facade of stony indifference, there was a layer of humour as almost always these days. Robin doubted that anyone but her had ever seen it though.

"In all seriousness, how soon can you get him away from the castle?" She asked after a moment, as they came to a stop in the hallway that led to the main entrance of the great hall on one end, and to the backdoor on the other. They usually went separate ways from here on, always careful not to arrive together at the wrong times and make the wrong impressions on the wrong people.

"An hour after dinner, perhaps a bit later. But in return he will be gone for a few hours at the least." He replied in certainty, and Robin wondered just how he was going to do that. Especially so quickly, after a day like this that hadn't been easy on Morgan either. She'd have to pay attention during the meal or simply ask about it later. After a few seconds, Snape added, "That should suffice to search his quarters, I believe."

Robin let out a breath in relief upon the prospect of a timely solution, then offered him a smile. "Great. I'll set up the dunderhead gang in the entrance hall to check when he leaves. That way we can be absolutely certain he's gone and not coming back. They can hold watch at least until curfew."

"I could always write them a note to have them stay out later than that, you know… At least I can for the girls. The Ravenclaws are out of my influence."

"I'm aware." She smiled at the memory of her own permission note to break curfew. Gods, that was long ago. "Perhaps we can send them up to the astronomy tower, from up there one can see the very foot of the hill. That would allow for a warning in time to make an escape. I'll ask Cas and Melissa; Jorien's got work with McGonagall, if I'm not mistaken."

Snape scoffed, then rolled his eyes in that lovely exaggerated manner. "Does Minerva ever give the girl a break?"

"Says the man who used to make me work every single night until four o'clock in the morning!" Robin laughed, then shook her head both at him and to herself. "Even on bloody school days!"

"You never seemed to mind." Snape protested with an almost sullen look, and if that was even in the realm of possibility, Robin believed he would start pouting if they'd been alone. Gods, that man was a mystery above all others.

"I didn't just not mind; I absolutely loved it even." Robin replied almost reassuringly, but with more humour than she could tone down. "But so does Jorien. She enjoys working with McGonagall, even if by far more normal hours than we do. No longer than midnight on Fridays and Saturdays and no longer than ten on school nights."

Now, Snape actually did snort for once, even out here in public. "We weren't even done with coffee at that time of night for the majority of the last years."

"We really are a terrible example though!"

"Are we, now? We usually are done working by midnight these days, aren't we?" He raised an eyebrow at her again, more teasing than serious, and Robin was sure they would miss dinner if they kept going like this. It had happened on more than one occasion.

"Well yes, we are, but for entirely different reasons!" She gave him a look, then a smile, then shook her head to herself as her cheeks tinted pink no matter how much she tried to prevent it. They really were done with work earlier than ever these days, as that left them with way more time for private matters afterwards. Not that those private matters didn't occasionally sneak into the lab or the office as well… they did get distracted quite regularly, even. But still, they tried to somehow keep school business and private matters separate now more than ever. That however did not apply for private studies, experiments or research, which they were more than happy to do in their very own kind of way, as they always had. Anyhow, Robin took a deep breath, then tried focusing on the matter at hand. "So, you get Morgan out of the castle as soon as possible, I bargain with Cas and Melissa, and you write them a note later for whoever has patrol duties tonight. Right?"

"Indeed. What reason for your request will you be telling the girls? And what are you willing to offer them in return?"

Robin scoffed, then smirked up at him in both humour and a certain smugness she didn't bother to hide. "What makes you think that they are going to do me the favour? The better question would be what they are willing to do for me if I set up a past curfew visit to the astronomy tower for them. Because they have always wanted to sit there and freeze their little butts off all night. They just don't know it yet."

"Clever." The not-smirk was back in an instant, as was the subtlest expression of pride. "As always."

"I'm trying my best." She replied with a softer smile. "As always."

"I know. I wouldn't be so confident in our plan under any different circumstances. Neither would I break into places for that matter, if it wasn't for you."

"Really?" She quirked an eyebrow at him in utmost doubt of what he was saying, and the smirk on her lips made him roll his eyes with a hidden one of his own.

"Dinner. Now. You can harass me later."

"Is that an invitation or are you trying to flirt with me?"

"Get out of my sight already."

With quiet laughter that resonated off the stones around them as a feather light echo, Robin gave him another look that said more than a million words could, then finally made her way down the remainder of the hallway and towards the main entrance with quick steps and a smile on her face. It felt good to laugh and joke again… but she had also learned her lesson today, knew perfectly well what was at stake, and that's precisely why she kept an ever careful eye on her surroundings now more than ever. They still were on a mission after all. A mission they were going to set into action now.

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[amwritingmeta]

The Truth

This ficlet picks up in the last few moments of 15x18 and follows Dean through 15x19. It doesn’t really come with any warnings or age tags? It’s canon compliant. Everything hurts. Thanks for reading. (prefer AO3?)

You sit in a room with no windows in a home with no sunlight and you can’t fucking stop crying. Your brother is calling again, a buzzing noise against cement, vying for your attention and all you do is dig the heels of your palms into your eyelids. Keep it together. Reach out, and do so greedily, for your scattering sanity and pull it back together. Ignore the pain. Ignore it igniting your insides. Ignore its persistent flame licking slowly at the air in your lungs, sucking it right out of you. A stuttered sob. Bite it back, bite down hard against it. Stop. Fucking. Crying.

You hate yourself. Suffocating self-blame like something sticky and sweet in your throat. Your chest is imploding with the building fury. If you’d only not been so goddamn stubborn. If you’d only not been so hellbent on revenge. Who the fuck do you think you are? You didn’t expect to live through this so why the fuck did you bring him with you? You don’t think. No, that’s not even true because you chose. You wanted him there. You didn’t want to go alone. You accepted his company because it made you think… made you believe you had a chance. His presence strengthened you, like he always does. 

Did. 

Fuck. 

Your eyes are aching. You stop pressing on them, open them instead, sight blurred, you give up, get up, get ready to walk out of the room with no windows into the home with no sunlight. Get ready to call your brother back. Tell him you’re alive, Cas isn’t. And you just stand there. Not ready. Not ready yet. Not quite yet. And your eyes are on the place where you stood a handful of minutes earlier, where words were said to you while this man you’ve known, and yet never really known completely, looked at you in ways that made your heart constrict and your skin goosebump and the memory is so fresh it makes you falter all over again, makes you feel something dangerously soften again, something that has always kept a tight fist around your every moment of hope, and you feel that wonder build itself back up, created with every new sentence telling you who you are.

How you’re seen.

By Cas.

But then he was taken from you. In the next breath taken away from you forever. He said it was forever. That’s what he said. That was the deal. Wasn’t it?

You clench your jaws and you look away. The fist tightens. You can’t linger. You’re ready because you have to be. The fight is far from over. You pick your phone up off the floor and you leave the room and you shut the door behind you. 

You’re still crying.

So you don’t call Sam. 

You get in your car and you let her tyres scream out into the lightening landscape and you follow roads you’ve driven a thousand times, roads you could drive with your eyes closed and a fifth of something strong and cajoling burning in your stomach, roads that are like black ribbons, like the wheels of Baby are grinding against a mourning band wrapped around the Earth, but you know there isn’t one, can’t be one, because everything remains just as it was less than half a day ago, for everyone except for you. 

Everything remains just as it was less than an hour ago for you—except for him.

And you grip the steering wheel and you fight the tears and you think the fighting might be causing them so you leave them be, let them run down your face, run their course, run out. You knew. You always knew it would end like this. Could see it coming like the glare of headlights on a dark highway. Of course it would end bloody. Of course it would finish in death and destruction. Why wouldn’t it? Have you ever, for even one second, thought that it wouldn’t and actually believed it? Deep down trusted that there was another outcome waiting for any of you?

No.

How could you?

Everything you love, you lose. Unless you fight for it, tooth and nail. Unless you rage against the loss until it scurries off to its corner and leaves you with pieces to be put back together. And you’ve put them back together. More times than you can count at this point, only for them to be torn back apart. Again and again. That’s life? Is that what living is? 

It’s your life. It’s all you’ve ever known. All you’ll ever know.

You don’t get further than Lebanon before you start noticing it: everything is standing still, nothing is what it was an hour ago, absolutely no one else remains. Abandoned cars gaping empty blocking your way, belongings dropped on sidewalks like their owners suddenly lost interest, vanished children from swings now played with only by a passing breeze and you can feel it. They’re gone. All of them. 

I cared about the whole world because of you.

And you shut your eyes to it, just for a moment, just to regroup, rearrange your thoughts, pick and choose which ones are wanted right now and which ones need to wait, because there’s no alternative. The fact serves to numb you. You open your eyes and take in whatever this whole new world is that lies before you; letting steely conviction prop up the waver inside you, an underlining for how if you don’t focus you don’t fix it. So you focus.

First you need to get your ass to where Sam and Jack are. Your brother stopped calling a while back. There are a dozen texts. You text him back you’re on your way. Just can’t tell him over the phone. Can’t say the words over the phone. Don’t even know what the words are. Cas is gone. It’s your fault. It’s always your goddamn fault.

You refuse the tears this time, and open the doors back up to the anger, acidic in your chest and directed entirely at yourself as you step on the gas, eyes on the road ahead, one hand reaching for the stereo, the blaring music serving as an intervention, a blocker for the impressions crowding in your head, of the man you’ve known and yet never known completely. Until today.

You reach your brother and the kid and you tell them. The words are perfunctory. The truth, but not the whole truth. So help you. They don’t question. You see their grief and you can’t indulge, can’t join them in it. You fix it, that’s what you do. By giving up? Giving in. Same thing. The kid is disappointed, but the kid doesn’t get that all the cards have been played and there’s no more choices to make—save this one. Sacrifice like a red thread through your entire story and its time to pull on it. You die, Sam dies, willingly, unwillingly, however God wants it, but the world lives. Cas lives.

No dice. 

God dismisses you, because what God wants is for you to stay in this moment of shame, of suffering, of loneliness. The ultimate punishment for disobeying, for refusing to heed him when heeding was offered, for staying defiant to the very last. And here it is then, the last. At last. And so you have your pick of bottles, and a second pick and third pick, pouring their contents down your throat, letting it drown the shame, flood the suffering, pool around the loneliness until you’re on the brink of forgetting the recent, because your mind swims in old memories, clinging to the good ones like they’re life rafts. Cas is right there, present in all of them. He would be. For all your years of denying it to yourself, you’ve known for a while that Cas is the one thing keeping you from drowning. Lending breath whenever you’ve felt like you were fighting for air. Grabbing hold whenever you’ve reached for something to hold onto. 

Sam is your cornerstone, but Cas is the mortar between the better parts of you, because he’s never backed down from calling you out on your bullshit. He never used to. Never did. Before… 

Fuck, you’re drunk.

It’s now, in the seconds between awake and sleeping, that you finally admit it fully to yourself that what you feel more than shame, more than loneliness, more than anything else is regret. What’s causing the suffering is the fact that, when this man you’ve loved for longer than you’re even sure of yourself told you that you’re the opposite of what you’ve always feared yourself to be, when he told you that he sees you as you are, understanding you in ways that you didn’t even realise yourself that you’ve always longed to be understood until he was standing there, understanding you, when this man confessed—professed—his love for you, all you could do was close up, and deny him. 

The failure to act, to speak, to do something, anything other than all the wrong things is like a blade, precise, unyielding, refusing to be ignored.

You are so broken.

You’re not.

How long? How long did Cas know that he loved you? How long could you have gotten to love him back, if you hadn’t been such a fucking coward?

No answer. 

You sleep. Deeply, dreamlessly. 

You wake needing something to kill the pain and needing that something in copious amounts, but the kid distracts you with his antennae pricking: someone else is out there. So into the Impala you pile yourselves and you drive the roads you’ve driven a thousand times with that fifth of whatever sloshing around in your stomach and you find a too quiet stretch of mileage to make a pitstop, but your bladder has to wait when there’s movement and what seemed as lifeless as every other place surprises you with a dog. One dog. The final dog. The only dog on the planet. 

What’re the odds of that? 

And your chest is suddenly swelling with gratitude, because it’s a goddamn miracle, and you feel there’s good here, a sign that there’s still good, and it’s like Cas is there with you, in that moment, standing beside you, his presence filling you up, like a wind billowing out a slackened sail, and you can’t stop fucking smiling. Because you know it’s going to be okay, even as memories blister themselves through your mind with all the times you almost touched him but stopped yourself, you know it’ll be okay, because he’ll come back. He always comes back. 

Then the dog is spirited away and Chuck gives you a smile and a wave and you want to kill him. But he’s gone and how the hell are you supposed to kill God anyway? You’re feeling like you could do it with your bare hands, but then you step through the doors of a church together with Sam and the kid and the someone else is there. An archangel. The one that’s stalked the edges of your story for as long as it’s been written. The one that opened a rift to Purgatory and allowed you reentry and a second chance to have a prayer spoken and answered and you feel yourself tense, because you owe him, but you don’t trust him: he reminds you too much of yourself. Even so, here’s a key for the lock you can’t seem to pick.

Of course, it doesn’t work. 

And then your phone rings. And you stare at the name on the display and it doesn’t seem possible that Cas would have found a way back this quickly, but then there’s his voice on the line saying he’s here and he’s hurt and can you let him in and you’re on your feet in the blink of an eye, taking the stairs to the front door three at a time and feeling worry and concern, fear and anticipation mingle like something mildly intoxicating in your brain until you open the door and face the devil on the other side. There’s shock, bright and discombobulating, like hands grasping your shoulders and shaking you, hard. Already inside the bunker, too late to be stopped, the devil sneers and smirks at his impersonation getting you to let your guard down, as he knew it would. You control the disgust, but barely. You feel like spitting on the floor, something bitter on your tongue, but don’t. The devil is amused. You can’t fucking stand how this ruse means the last time you heard Cas’ voice it was thanks to this dick.

It’s not the last time.

But there’s a sinking feeling in your chest, and the thought that yes, it is, even though you refuse it. Thankfully, the devil and his brother in the same room is more pressing, especially with a freshly minted Death there to read the God book. Everything happens with a rapidity that makes even your head spin and ends with Lucfier dead by Michael’s hand, the God book proving an absolute dud, and the kid taking you and Sam aside for a word in private. Because he just got juiced up and he says, in that quiet way he has:

“I thought this new power meant I was dangerous. That I was bad. So I didn’t tell you. And I know that was wrong, but I didn’t know how to. I’m sorry.”

It’s alright, kid. 

You’re how we fight God. 

You’re how we win.

The plan is formulated through lowered voices as you stand with your brother and the kid at the very back of the library, the dimly lit antechamber housing the useless inter-dimensional geoscope acting as backdrop, and as the steps you need to take are worked out between the three of you, you feel how that fist within begins to loosen again, only this time it’s not because of anything other than your growing faith that this is it. This is how it really ends.

The clarity that comes with it should be startling, but isn’t. Because you’re beginning to see it. How it’s a tapestry. Your past. Woven into something traceable. The only life you’ve ever known, but here the weave is changing color, thanks to you, no one else. Your choices determine the weave, no one else’s. And now, working together with two of your closest, the knowledge that you’ll succeed this time is like a golden thread through all of it, finally catching the light so that you’ll notice it, acknowledge it. You’re stronger like this: together. You always were. 

It’s Chuck’s weakness, because he can’t comprehend it. There’s no compromise in him. No loyalty, no selflessness, no love.

He can’t write your ending. He has no power here. 

You asked what about all this is real—we are.

Cas was right. If only you’d heard him sooner. If only you’d really listened, instead of stacking bricks against him, walling yourself in with your fear and all the self-doubt that has always accompanied it. Warding yourself against the overwhelming lack of control in such utterly idiotic ways; idiotic because your control was never lesser, never hollowed out: you’ve always had a choice. And there was a golden thread, ever present, even inside each brick. All you have to do now is tug on it, and the walls will turn to sand. 

You don’t hesitate.

Knowing you has changed me.

You tug.

Sunshine reflects off the waters of the lake as you pull up. It’s a pretty spot you’ve chosen. The plan is working like a charm. Every tooth of the trap you’ve set is snapping in place at its expected moment, every predicted choice by the opposing force has been made in response to your subtle manipulation of them. Both of them. Because Chuck takes the bait, and shows, and Michael dies at his Father’s hand, and the Father is rendered godless at the hands of his grandson, and the legacy of death and destruction stops here. You know it does.

Except the human on the ground thinks his ending is to be murdered by his own creation, thinks you’ll pull your gun and place a bullet between his brows, or reach down and strangle him, like you’ve had in your head for months, and you leave him behind with the knowledge that he’s been lying to himself, trying to keep you doing the same, but you’re done.

You’re ready for the truth, because the truth…

You’re the most selfless, caring human being I will ever know.

…the truth is a golden thread, catching the light.

[martin-ftw]

New Hollow Knight Story!

My first long story and first written piece about Hollow Knight!

This one is inspired from an ask from @arty-cakes and all their art in general,

as well as many others in the community, including @scribbleshanks , @fly-sky-high-hollow-knight , @payasita​ , @soft-quirrel , @chipper-smol, @mipexch and many many many other fantastic artists that would simply take too long to list out. Just wanted to thank these amazing people before I start. ^^

PS: Unsure what title to give, I'm just gonna use a cliché one until someone gives me a better one lmao

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

The adventure

"Bury the knight with her broken nail, bury the... pri.. priest?"

"In his tattered gown, Myla"

"Oh, right, right, thanks Clothy"

Chapter 1: Myla and Cloth

The two of them walk out of the mines to the orange, blindingly bright crossroads. Myla sits on top of Cloth, drowsily holding a pickaxe while Cloth is in a combat-ready position, holding out her weapon and traversing through the crossroads.

"This place gives me the creeps, the mines are much more peaceful, I hate orange" said Myla, in a resentful tone.

"Its dangerous around here, we should get up as fast as we can" said Cloth in reassurance.

"I'd throw my pickaxe at them if it wasn't for the blunted head from all the mining" replied Myla, joyfully.

With chuckles and giggles, they ascend the platforms and up the well to Dirtmouth

"Oho, what brings you two up here?" Elderbug, surprised

"Nothing much, we came to see Hornet! Myla's a little sick so we was wanted to check her out and make sure she's fine" replied Cloth as Myla climbs down her club carefully.

"Ah I see, I'm sure she'll be fine! Hornet's in sly's shop, they're probably training with the knight, would like to sit for a while?"

"Hmm sure we ca-"

As Cloth accepted the offer, a loud "-SHAW!" is heard from Sly's basement

Myla, intrigued, "But I wanna see what they're doing! Can we go watch?"

"If you say so, Myla, --Elderbug you wanna come with?" said Cloth, bringing Myla up her head.

"I'm fine, combat's not my cup of tea. You two have fun down there!"

And like that, they wave their goodbyes and part their ways, with the Cloth duo going into Sly's shop.

Chapter 2: The action

Myla and Cloth cheerily descend to the basement, loud metal clangs can be heard even outside the shop

"You're agitated today arent you, little ghost" said Hornet, panting in a parry pose.

The knight shrugged and signed the words "I guess", learning the lesson of not attacking during enemy parries.

As the knight charges up their nail art, Hornet breaks out of parry and uses a spike attack, suspending string-spike balls in the arena. The knight releases a powerful cyclone slash, the one they just learned from Mato, slashing the spiky balls into the corner of the room

Myla let out a "Woah" as the knight approaches Hornet, preparing a dash slash.

*Clang*

The nail hitting was so loud it could be heard from deepnest. Startled by the sound, Cloth hugged Myla closely and they closed their eyes from reflex.

Opening their eyes, Sly is seen in between the knight and hornet, with his nail stopping knight's nail from hitting Hornet. How did he get there so fast?

"Good job knight, nice timing on the art." commented Sly, satisfied.

"Hey that's no fair, you already beat me twice!" exclaimed Hornet, exhausted.

The knight lower their nail, and notice the Myla duo standing next to the ladder.

"Hi", waved the knight, the easiest sign language they know that even Myla would understand.

Hornet sits down and turns her head over, while Sly walks toward the Clyla duo.

"That was awesome!" said Cloth, thrilled.

The ghost smiled, signing "Thanks" to the duo as Myla jumps up and down excitedly.

Regaining her strength in mere seconds, Hornet stands up and swings over, "It'd be better if I won, ghost is way too strong. -What are you two doing here?"

"Ah, right, Myla is a little sick, she's experiencing some memory lost and drowsiness" Cloth says, as Myla eagerly touches the knight's upgraded Coiled nail, intrigued as always.

"I think the infection is creeping into the mines, we should give her some treatment" said Hornet, concerned.

With that, Sly clears off the floor of dust and spikes and the 5 of them ascend the ladder.

Chapter 3:

Chapter 3.1: Lifeblood

The 5 of them come out of the shop to meet Elderbug, the cool dude.

"Oho we got quite the party here, you guys heading down?" said Elderbug joyfully, holding a flower in his hands.

"Yeah, we're gonna give the Mantis bros a visit, Myla needs some lifeblood, she's a little sick." replied Hornet, causally.

"Oh I hope you're well little guy," Elderbug said to Myla, patting Myla's head as she delicately touches the petals of the flower, "Safe journey down there you guys, the crossroads give a stink."

"Thanks Elderbug, we'll be careful. Sly would you like to come with us?"

"Uhh, sure thing! It's been a while since I've visited my buddies", said Sly.

With that, they descend the well into the crossroads.

Chapter 3.2: Mantis village

"Myla, are you okay? Is it the mushrooms or the acid?" Cloth said while the knight looks up in concern.

"No no, I'm fine, just a little sleepy" Myla yawned, adjusting her sit.

"Take a nap then little guy, we'll be there in no time" said Cloth and Hornet, almost in unison

They chuckled, entering the mantis village.

A mantis warrior bows upon seeing the knight, welcoming their entry, the knight politely bows back.

They travel through the village and gets to the bottom of the village, where they meet the Mantis lords. They stand up and bow while the 5 travellers bow back.

"It's been a while, what brings you lots here?", said the tallest mantis.

"If we could, we are here to take some Lifeblood, Myla is a little ill" said Hornet while the knight looks at the sleeping Myla on top of Cloth.

Due to the lack of care, most lifeblood cocoons in Hallownest have died down, remaining only 2 active and reproducing cocoons: The one in Mantis village surviving due to the care from the Mantis tribe; and a man-made cocoon Joni's repose, an artificial breeding center made by the knight with the power of both Joni's blessing and lifeblood core.

"Ah why of course, we wish the little one well!"

As the knight carried Myla and climbed up the wall to the lifeblood cocoon, Hornet proceeded to chat with the Mantis lords.

"How's the deepnest going? Still giving you guys trouble?"

"Ah though there are occasional intruders, they seem to have calmed down after..." She paused, "after your mother ascended" continued the other Mantis lord

"Its okay, I'm over it, the knight gotta do their mission afterall." sighed Hornet.

"Is the little one getting infected? Is she okay?" said the tallest Mantis, shifting the center of attention to alleviate the atmosphere

"Oh, yes, the infection from crossroads are creeping into the mines and Myla is mildly affected. I'm sure she'll be fine with us around" said Cloth, optimistically.

"The crossroads are infected? Since when?" exclaimed one of the lords.

The knight, standing on the ledge of the Lifeblood cocoon, turned down and signed "Dreamers"

"I see, though with the temple being in the center, it's no wonder the place gets flooded. Please wish Elderbug well for us when you return to Dirtmouth."

"Will do!" said Cloth and the knight nodded in agreement.

Time passes while the party chats with the Mantis Lords, especially Sly as he's a newcomer to the village.

"You guys doing good up there?" said Cloth, "Need our help?"

The knight gives them a thumbs-up as they carefully cutopen the Lifeblood seed with their nail, feeding the Lifeblood to Myla.

"She looks sleepy," commented by one of the Mantis, "Does she need a place to sleep? We have a bench in our village protected by one of our senior warriors."

As she says this, the knight waves their tiny hands, holding Myla's pickaxe on one hand and pointing to the blunt unsharpened edges on her pickaxe with the other.

"How observant, little ghost, you want to find the Nailsmith?" Replied Hornet.

Decide the future of the story

Route 4a: All 5 members to Nailsmith

Route 4b: Myla+Cloth rest at Mantis village, Sly+Hornet+Knight to Nailsmith

Route 4c: Myla+Knight rest at Mantis village, Sly+Hornet+Cloth to Nailsmith

Click here to vote for the future! 

I have ideas for all 3 scenarios so just choose to your heart :D

Thanks again to the amazing hollow knight community producing many beautiful art and intriguing fanfic/AUs, curious to see which route wins :D

Edit 1: Spelling mistakes + pronouns

[allhallowstiel]

the final part of my deancas fix-it fic is up! here’s a little excerpt, feel free to read the rest on ao3!

-

“Yeah, um... about that… look Cas,” Dean starts awkwardly, “you told me before that your powers were failing and I totally blew you off. And I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair to you. Even when we were fighting, I should’ve put my crap aside and helped you.” 

“In all fairness, we were in the middle of a battle with the creator of the universe at the time,” Cas says, his smirk morphing into a soft smile. “But it’s fine. I didn’t expect you to drop everything just for that.” 

“I should have,” Dean insists. “I guess I just thought… you’d have more time, you know? At least… I dunno, a century or something.” 

“I thought so too. But we both heard Jack.” 

Dean lowers his head, staring down at his bottle, sliding his thumb over the label. “You sure there’s nothing we can do to help restore it?” he asks. “Can’t Jack fix it?” 

“I don’t know,” Cas says. “But he didn’t offer.” 

“Well- do you  want it  fixed?” 

“I don’t know,” Cas repeats. “There is a part of me that wants to keep what remains of my Grace. It’s my essence- everything that makes me an angel. And my last experience as a human was… less than pleasant.”

Dean looks away guiltily. “...I still think about that. How much I fucked up by kicking you out when the least I could’ve done was… I don’t know, given you some fucking cash, hooked you up with a place to go-” 

“Dean, you were doing what you had to-” 

“Don’t- don’t make excuses for me,” Dean says lowly. He musters his courage and meets Cas' intense gaze. “Please.” 

“You already apologized. Besides, that was years ago-” 

“Yeah. And in all that time, I still feel like I’ve been the shittiest friend to you. And then after you-” 

Again, he chokes on his words. He still can’t bring himself to say it, no matter how much he knows he should. Cas had spoken his truth- so why was it so hard for him to speak his?

“Dean, listen to me.” Cas catches his eyes again, keeping their gazes locked. “Those things are behind us now. Besides, I haven’t always been the greatest friend to you, either. The memory of betraying you and breaking Sam’s wall still haunts me to this day.” 

Dean wants to argue- but he understands what Cas is getting at, and given how they both were, arguing about it would only be continuing to go in circles, and that's the last thing he wants for either of them. “I just… I guess I’m just having a hard time believing it, man. We’re here. We’re  free. You’re here now, and there’s no strings attached- no deals, no cosmic consequences. And now, I just… I don’t know how to feel.” 

“...That’s understandable. But you’ll find your way. Free will has always been what you do best.” 

“I think that’s more  you  than me,” Dean argues. “You gave up everything for me.  Everything. Your Grace might not be failing if you hadn’t-” 

“Did you not hear my last words to you, when Billie was after us?” Cas asks. His tone catches Dean's attention and he finds that Cas looks entirely, completely serious, like he's ready at any given moment- at this very moment- to pour his heart out all over again. “My rebellion was my own choice- as was every decision I made afterwards. My only regrets are the fact that some of my decisions hurt you and Sam. It’s true that there are some things I would’ve done differently- but that’s… that’s  normal. Everyone feels that way. But don’t you  ever question my rebellion- because even if my Grace is failing, choosing you over Heaven was the greatest decision I ever made. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” 

Dean’s eyes go wide and his heart starts to beat faster as he recalls their last moments before Cas was swept away by the Empty. He’s not an idiot. He knows, deep down, what Cas was really saying to him, no matter how much he'd tried to convince himself otherwise, no matter how much he'd tried to insist that Cas couldn't have possibly meant it in the way he thought he did- the way he wanted him to mean it. He just couldn’t allow himself to think about it, because thinking about it made it real. 

But it is real. It’s so very real. And the only person who ties him to that reality is sitting right across from him- alive. He’s alive and- and if he leaves again then- God, he doesn’t even want to  think about what he’ll do.

It’s real. And he has to think about it now, because Cas is sitting right here, and- how can he just  do that? Smile and laugh with Dean all carefree like that? Why doesn’t he feel as broken up about this as he does? 

“Cas,” he starts, “listen… about what you said-” 

-

read the rest here!

[mila-dans]

Spells Out Trouble: Escape (The Pina Colada Song)

This is chapter nine AND the last chapter of “Spells Out Trouble.” Masterlist Here!

Chapter Eight: Long Train Runnin’

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word count: 6237

Summary: You have been with the Winchesters for several years now going through all the literal trials and tribulations with them. What happens when Dean gets hit by a love spell and becomes head-over-heels for you? Will your pushed down emotions finally rise or will you get in over your head? Find out what happens when your best friend’s hard exterior becomes mush whenever you end up in his eyeline.

Just so you know: This is my first Fanfic so sorry if there are aspects missing. This has been so fun to write and I am so happy that people like it. This will be the last chapter so thank you to those who’ve been with the story since the beginning. Thank you and I hope you enjoy it! (Also, not my gif! - @rainbow-motors​)

You ran out from the infirmary, trying to get away. You could still hear him.

“You should be dead! It should’ve been you! You killed your parents!”

You raced up the stairs. You weren’t quick enough.

“It was your fault they died! You killed them! It was all your fault you piece of sh-”

Slam

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

Bzz. Bzz. Bzz.

Bzz. Bzz. Bzz.

Bzz. Bzz. B-Whack.

You rubbed your eyes, trying to get the sleep out of them. They were sore. Apparently, crying yourself to sleep every night for a month doesn’t leave your eyelids feeling rejuvenated. One months. One god awful month since you ran out of the bunker and never looked back.

You sat up in your bed, moving the sheets around thinking of how much easier it would be to just crawl right back underneath them. It would be easy, sure, but you have stuff to do. And that stuff being leaving credit card trails in far away places just in case Sam was still looking for you. You threw out your cellphone a while back, trading it for one that the boys couldn’t track. You didn’t even know if they were still on the hunt for you. Either way, it didn’t matter. You didn’t want to be found.

You walked to the bathroom, starting your morning routine. Washing face, brushing teeth, combing hair. This was just about the only constant you had in your life currently. A routine. You would leave and find a new hotel, new car, new credit card and new fake name every week. You would say that you were on the run but in order to call it that, you’d have to know what you were running from.

Were you running from Dean? The words that still echoed in your head? The pain of your heartbreaking? Or was it a mix? It seemed like your life just got ripped to shreds. That feeling of your heart crumpling is something that never went away. You missed them. You missed him. 

Dean’s reaction was something that you never could’ve even imagined. You thought names would be called and harsh words would be said, but never did you think that Dean would try to shoot you. If it wasn’t for Castiel stepping in front of the bullet just in time, you would be dead as a doornail.

His words, they haunted you. There was only one time that Dean Winchester had ever come close to being like that. It was different back then. You still don’t know why he acted the way he did. Looks like now you’ll never know.

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

Two years ago. Florence, Alabama. Jillian’s Diner.

You sat in the booth with Sam, trying to wipe the excess of Hellhound blood off of your face.

It was the time of the trials. You, Dean, and Sam had all been fighting over who gets to shut the gates of hell forever. Lucky you, it just so happened that you had on the glasses and a knife in hand. You managed to kill the mutt before it killed Sam. Drenched in the blood from a hound of hell. All you had to do was mumble a little Latin and the first trial was one and done.

The two of you waited for Dean to arrive at the diner. He was out in the woods, hunting with the idiots who sold their soul in the first place when it all went down. Sam had given him a call telling him where you two were getting your nutrients. 

You didn’t mention to Sam and sure as hell wouldn’t tell Dean what you felt like inside. It hurt on a whole other level. Your forearm was killing you. It was as if a chainsaw was stuck inside you and just kept hacking away. You knew it would only get worse but whatever the cost, it would be worth it. Slamming the gates of hell. Forever.

“You alright?” Sam asked as he wiped the last bit of blood off of your face.

“Yeah,” you replied with a smile. “How about you? I know that you were pretty determined to gut the mutt.”

“Eh, sure but, I don’t care who it is so long as we lock the demons up and throw away the key.” Sam chuckled and you smiled.

“It’s gonna be so great when they are gone. Think about it: no more demons. No Crowley!” You say with glee as the thought leaves you happy.

Slam

“What?” Sam says as he turns around in the seat to see who opened the door.

There stands Dean. He looks mad. Very mad.

“Dean?” Sam questions as his brother stomps over to the table with a deadly gaze directed at you.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Dean shouts, causing a jump from everyone in the place, yourself included.

“Dean!” You reply, trying to get him to calm down. He just continues to stare at you. Maddened. 

“Why did you do it?! Why?!” He continues shouting.

Sam stands up from his seat and goes over to Dean, “What the hell, man?” He whispers. “You need to calm down,” he says with a stern tone.

“No! I will not calm down!” Dean says as he pushes Sam away.

The waiters and waitresses start to come and view the fight. You still remain in your seat with the rabid Dean hovering over you.

“Take it outside, Dean,” Sam whispers as he takes notice of the people watching. He knows that if Dean gets out of hand, a lot of people could get hurt. He pushes Dean towards the door but not before Dean can push back.

“Fine! You want me to take it outside? Then I’ll take it outside!” Dean replies as he marches back over to you, grabbing you by the arm and shoving you out the door.

“What the hell, Dean?!” You shout as Sam tries to pull Dean’s hand away from your arm. 

“‘What the hell?!’ ‘What the hell?!’ How about what the hell were you thinking by doing the trial?!”

“What?!” You say as Dean starts pacing, trying to hold himself back. “That’s what this is about?!” Dean nods aggressively at you. “I did the trial! So what?”

“‘So what?!’” Dean starts going over towards you again but Sam stops him resulting in a few hits to be thrown.

“Knock it off!” You yell as you pull the beaten brothers from one another. You stand Dean up and try to check on him but he just swats you away. “Dean,” you say grimly, “what is your problem? And talk. Don’t yell. Don’t punch,” you order.

Dean takes a few steps then falls on a bench. You go over to Sam who has blood dripping down from the side of his face.

“How could you be so stupid?” Dean asks you.

“I’m sorry?” You reply, unsure of if Dean just insulted you.

“Seriously. How could you be that stupid? I honestly want to know,” Dean chuckles a little.

“You better watch your mouth, Winchester,” you say as you struggle to control yourself. “I’d choose your next words very wisely.”

“Dean, what is wrong with you?” Sam asks.

Dean just laughs.

“What has gotten into you?” You add.

“I’m pissed off!” He shouts.

“Because I did the trials?” 

“That’s exactly why!”

“What’s it to you? The gates are gonna close. Does it really matter who locks it up?”

“Yes! It does matter!” Dean says as he rubs his hands through his hair. “It matters a lot.”

“Is this just because you wanted to do it?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, is this just some stupid ego-hero thing, Dean?” You ask as you look at the agitated Dean.

“No, that’s no--that’s not what it is,” Dean sighs. “Just, why did you have to do it, Y/N? Why?”

“I did it because I just so happened to do it! Okay?” You say sarcastically. “Could you just for once not try and be the one who saves the day? Can you just stow your crap?”

“We don’t know what the trials could do to you, Y/N.”

“So?! You were gonna do them! Just cause you like sacrificing yourself at every chance you get doesn’t mean you have to!”

“That’s not why! That’s no--” Dean stops.

“‘That’s not’ what, Dean? Finish what you were gonna say!” You order.

Dean exhales with a smile. He shakes his head and stands back up from the bench. He walks past you.

“Are you gonna answer me?” You ask. Dean goes over to the car and gets in. “Nice, Dean! Real mature!” He drives off and you turn your attention towards Sam. “Do you know what that was about?”

“No,” Sam answers as he brushes his hair out of his face. “No clue.”

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

And just like that, Dean never talked about it again. He just left pissed off but eventually came back around to his usual annoying self. All you knew is that Dean really liked to be the one to die or get killed. He’d jumped in front of the gun for you more times than once. Never did you think he’d end up shooting at you.

Even though he was mad at you back then, it was nothing compared to how you left him.

You are worthless! You are nothing! You are some bastard that doesn’t even deserve to live!

No.

You should be dead! It should’ve been you! You killed your parents!

Stop.

It was your fault they died! You killed them! It was all your fault you piece of sh-

I said stop!

No matter what you told yourself, no matter how hard you tried to forget, or how hard you tried to block it out, his words played like a broken record in your head. Over and over, and over, and over. Even Jim, Jack, and Jose couldn’t take the edge off. Nothing could. Nothing can.

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

All you could think about was Dean. God, he was stuck in your brain like glue. Even a month later and you couldn’t stop.

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

You had just gotten back from a grocery store downtown and made your way into the motel room. It had been two months now that you were away from the bunker.

It hurts so bad.

You missed your family. You missed your home. You missed Baby. You missed Dean. You missed Cas. You missed Sam.

You went to collapse on your bed as the floodgates opened and all sorts of tears and emotions came out. You couldn’t handle it all alone. It took everything in you to not call Sam and crawl back to him knowing that he would help carry the burden. He always had. He was like the big brother you always wanted. He was your brother.

You reached for your phone but the thought of Dean stopped you from going any further.

What if he still wants to kill me? What if he tries to? What if he's managed to convince them that I am everything he said and less? Why was I so stupid? Why am I here? What am I doing? I should come back home. They miss me, I’m sure. I miss them. I miss all of them. I miss playing chess with Cas. I miss researching with Sam. I miss looking at Dean every time he looked away from me. 

Even when Dean was annoying, you still loved that he gave you attention. You loved it whenever he would call your name. You loved it when--when--you loved Dean. Everything about him. Burdens and all. You had spent so long trying to push all of your feelings down and away but ever since… ever since the spell, those emotions arose. Now you suffer the pain of heartbreak. You suffer the pain of losing everything. Everyone.

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

It wasn’t but a day later that you had managed to over sleep. It wouldn’t be that bad if it wasn’t fourteen days now that you were in the same motel. The routine kind of got lost and you gave in to the sight of your bed and ‘On Demand’ on the television.

Knock. Knock.

You heard at the door as you turned off Game of Thrones.

Crap.

This is what happens when you binge. You go into a pit of never ending stories, plot lines, character arcs, and some amazing lighting. The wonders of television.

Knock. Knock.

Right. You take a deep breath. You figure that it is the motel manager complaining that you have the volume too loud. To be honest, it’s not your fault that they make the sound too quiet.

Knock. Knock.

“Coming!” You shout as you crawl out of bed and fax your clothes so it doesn’t look like you’ve been laying in bed all week. 

Knock. Knock.

“I’m coming!” You say again as you turn the knob to open the door. You take a glance at the silhouette of a man in your doorway. The sun shines in your eyes and it takes a minute for the sight to settle. You see him. And it sure as hell ain’t the manager. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” You yell as you slam the door shut.

Bam

The door flies back open and you corner yourself in the room, trying to find something, anything.

“Two months and I get a slammed door in my face?” He asks.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” You ask as you terror in fear as he walks in the room, shutting and locking the door behind him.

“Wow, what a greeting!” He says sarcastically. You search for an escape and set your eyes on the bathroom. “I need to talk to you, Y/N.”

“Get the hell away from me, Dean!”

Dean Winchester. Cornering you yet again. The bathroom being your only escape. 

You run towards the bathroom as Dean chases after your. “Don’t--” Dean tries to say as he nearly grabs you before he gets another door slammed in his face. “Really, Y/N? Again?”

“Go away!” You order as you lock the bathroom door.

“I told you, I need to talk to you.”

“You can go to hell!” You say as you look towards the window. You try to open it but it won’t budge.

“Yeah,” Dean says from the other side of the door, “that’s not gonna work, sweetheart.” You can practically hear his smirk. You sigh as you realize that you are locked in the bathroom. The only way out is through Dean Winchester which you have to say, you have mixed feelings about.

“Let me out of here!” You command.

“Hey, I’m not the one who locked herself in the bathroom. Besides, we need to talk and I’m not going to talk to a door,” Dean replies.

“Well I’m not talking to you!” You respond. 

“Fine then.” 

“Fine!” You shout as you search for another escape. Nothing. There is nothing. Dean even made sure that the window was locked from the outside, complete with a note that said “not this time. :)”

Great.

You sat down on the floor, starting the waiting period for Dean to leave.

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

It had nearly been twenty minutes at least. You could still hear Dean on the other side of the door. You could only think about the situation. 

Dean was here. With you. You had no backup. No help. No defense. Like always, you were screwed. Now’s the time when you wish you had a spare knife in your shoe or even a lighter in your pocket. You didn’t know what Dean this was. It could be a whole other crazy by now. Sure he didn’t seem aggressive like he was before but you couldn’t trust him. The last time you saw him, he literally tried to kill you.

“Are you still there?” You asked as you pressed your face closer to the crack under the door.

“Yup,” he answered almost tiredly.

“What are you doing?” You asked cautiously.

“Right now? Well, right now I’m taking a nap since you are being stubborn.”

“I am not being stubborn!” You reply defensively. 

“That right there is called stubbornness, sweetheart.” You could hear Dean laugh a little.

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

About ten more minutes of silence passed.

“You know? I never took anyone else there,” Dean let out.

“What?” You ask, unsure if this was a trap. Dean always knew how to push your buttons.

“I said, I never took anyone else there.”

“What does that mean?” 

Silence.

“Dean,” you try again with your curiosity getting the better of you. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, I’m sorry? Are you talking to me?” Dean replies. “Cause I didn’t know doors could talk!”

“Dammit, Dean!” You say knowing that he won’t answer you unless you open the door. You can picture him smiling as you think out the situation. 

This isn’t like crazy Dean. Or other crazy Dean. He seemed normal enough.

“If I open the door, will you kill me?” You ask bluntly.

Silence.

“Oh, come on!” You shout in frustration. You were both stubborn but you both knew Dean was the worst. “Give me something here. At least let me know that I won’t die if I open the door!”

“Hm… I can’t promise that. I mean, you may get shot at by an intruder or there could be an earthquake or there could be a lighting storm where lighting comes straight down, bust through the ceiling, and goes right for y--”

“Okay! I get it!” You roll your eyes and cautiously open the door. You see Dean sitting with his back against the wall, very closely mirroring your own position. “You happy now?” You ask sarcastically.

“Um, sure,” Dean answers with a smile.

“So what did you mean by ‘never took anyone else there?’” You question as you slowly scoot out of the bathroom, leaning your back against the bed, facing Dean.

“I mean, you are the only person who has ever gone with me to see the rocks.” He looks at you and smirks, proud of the fact that he got you to come out of the bathroom.

“What rocks?” You ask, confused.

“The rocks! The rock monument?” Dean looks at you strangely. “Please tell me you did not manage to forget the fact that I took you to see the sunset at the rock site.”

You think for a moment and look back at him. “How do you know my dreams?” You say, with concern and confusion.

“Dream?” Dean returns the confused look on your face. “Y/N, that wasn’t a dream. I really did take you there and you really did see the sunset. Why would you think it was a dream?”

“I--Wh--Ho,” you keep trying to form words. The fact that your dream actually happened is the second most surprising thing you found out today. Soon to be the third. “I thought it was a dream because I woke up in bed?” You reply, uncertain.

“Okay, listen, do you remember me waking you up? You were in my bed?” You nod. “Good. Do you remember waking up in the car?” You nod again. “All that, it happened. And afterwards, I drove us home, then you fell back asleep.”

“But how did--how did I wake up in bed?”

“I carried you,” he answers. You look at him confused. It would make sense. “I didn’t want to wake you so I carried you from Baby and back to my bed.”

“Then what?” You ask cautiously, seeing if you might have forgotten something else.

“Then you started shivering. I figured that you wouldn’t want to be under the covers with me so instead, I, you know, I snuggled… you.” Dean smiles, almost embarrassed. 

“You snuggled me? That was it?”

“Yeah.” Dean rubs his neck, almost nervous like. “Okay, look, I couldn’t control myself very easily at the time so sorry for wanting to be so close to you.”

“That’s your excuse?” Dean nods. “I don’t care that you snuggled me Dean. In fact, I’m relieved that you didn’t do anything more.”

“Well, I wanted to.” Dean smiles at you. You look down at the ground.

You missed his smile. It’s still hard to believe that he was here. 

“How did you find me?”

“You think it was a hard task to find you? Listen, sweetheart, if I wanted to find you the minute you walked out the door, you would've been found. In fact, I’ve known right where you’ve been for months.”

“So you’ve been stalking me?”

“Are--are you serious? No. I just… I had to wait for the right time. To talk to you.” Dean’s face gets red.

“What do you want?” You notice that Dean keeps getting nervous.

“I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry, for starters.”

“Sorry for…”

Dean looks at you and rolls his eyes. He takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry for coming after you, twice.”

“Three times,” you correct.

“Yes, three times.” Dean chuckles a little. “I’m sorry for well, everything having to do with the spell.”

“Like…”

“You really gonna make me analyze my issues here?” You nod and grin. “Fine. I’m sorry that I sang to you in front of a crowd. I’m sorry that I tried to strip down in front of you. I’m sorry that I kept trying to kiss you. I’m sorry that I kept trying to lick your face.”

“What?!” You look at Dean surprised.

“Oh! Right. You didn’t know that or, um, need to know about that.” He clears his throat. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m sorry about how I made you feel uncomfortable. I’m sorry that I hid the cure from you. I’m sorry that I brought up the issues with your parents and I’m sorry that trying to kill you was the most recent memory you have of me. You gotta know that that wasn’t me. I would never say those things. I would never nor would I ever try to kill you. You’re my best friend. And I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You take a look at Dean and the sincerity shown on his face. This was Dean. The real Dean.

“Dean,” you say as he looks in your eyes and you do the same. “I forgive you. In fact, I forgive you more than I forgive myself for toying with you.”

“Hey,” Dean says as he stops your trail of self hatred. “You didn’t do anything wrong. There is nothing to forgive you for. And,” Dean sighs, “there’s one more thing I have to apologize for.”

“And that is?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Dean takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry that it took some witch, some curse, and a whole lot of vodka for me to finally tell you that I’m in love with you.”

“You what?” You ask, wide eyed and confused.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N. I’m so sorry that it took so long for me to admit it.”

You look at Dean who looks at you.

“Right.” You nod your head slowly. “Right.” You get up and walk over to the table. “Right, you’re right!”

“What are you doing?” Dean asks.

“I’m uh, I’m calling Sam,” you say with an unconvincing smile.

“Why?” Dean asks as he stands up.

“Cause the antidote apparently didn’t work.” You nervously type in the numbers on your phone.

“What?!” Dean asks as he snatches the phone from your hand. “No!”

“Dean,” you say calmly, “Give me the phone and we can get this all sorted out.”

“Y/N, I’m not under the spell, alright?” Dean says as he walks away with your phone. You follow him.

“Sure, Dean. That’s right. Whatever you say. But how about you just give me the phone?” You go over towards the bed and try to swipe the cell back from his hand.

“No!” He responds as he moves it from one hand to another.

“What do you mean no?!”

“I mean no.” Dean sits on the bed and you hop up on it trying to reach over his shoulders.

“Give it!”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“Hm, let me think about it. Oh! How about: No!” Dean stands up and you stand up on the bed, hovering over him. “You’re gonna hurt yourself, sweetheart,” he says with a chuckle.

“Shut up and give me the damn phone!” You lunge for the cellular device. You slowly lose your balance just as you come so close to reaching it. You lean more towards the edge of the bed and fall towards the ground.

Thump

“I told you,” Dean says. In one swoop, he caught you before you fell and tossed your back onto the bed and pinned your arms down with his hands. He comes only inches away from your face as you stare into his bright green eyes. “I’m not under some love spell. But I am in love with you.” He continues to stare in your eyes and gives you a smile. “Now can we behave like adults or do I need to bring out my handcuffs?”

“Oh, shut up!” You respond as you wrap your legs around his waist, turning him around, on his back. You now have him pinned down on the bed and you look into his eyes. “You’re insane. You know that Winchester?”

“Maybe,” he smiles. “But It’s only cause you make me.” You roll your eyes. “I could get out of this if I wanted to. I’m stronger than you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m faster,” you respond. Dean pulls you on the bed with him and leans in close to you. “Why don’t you believe I love you, Y/N?”

You take a deep breath, “Because you can’t.”

“And why not?”

“Because… because… because…”

“...Because you love me?” Dean continues. You blush a little and Dean notices. 

“Since when do you love me?”

“Since three years ago.” He smiles. “I remember the exact night I fell in love with you and it wasn’t because of some spell either.” You and Dean take a seat on the edge of the bed as he tells you a story. “It was three years ago. In Chesterfield, Missouri. We had just come back from killing some Thule members that decided to overrun an elementary school. After we burned the bodies, we went to get drinks like usual to celebrate but for some reason, you seemed to get carried away.”

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

Three years ago. Chesterfield, Missouri. Webb’s Bar.

I had just walked in after Y/N. She was in that little black dress that I loved so much. Only girl I know who could rock a suit just as much as she could a ballgown.

She made her way over to the bar. Sitting down, waiting for some random Romeo to sweep her off her feet. 

Who am I to judge? I’m the one looking for Juliet.

It wasn’t long before Y/N was downing one drink after another. God knows why she’d want to get wasted. Sure, the hunt was a different go around but it wasn’t anything bad. She just seemed to be in some sort of mood.

“Another round!” Y/N shouted causing the whole bar to cheer on the drunk girl of the week. “Woo! Yeah!” Y/N sat at the counter with three douchebags surrounding her.

“Hey, baby,” I heard the one guy whisper to you, “you want to get out of here?”

“Nope! I want to play some pool!” Y/N said as she stumbled from the seat to the pool cue rack.

“What’s she gonna get herself into now?” I whisper under my breath as I watch you miss every shot you take. The three dudes are practically vultures surrounding you now. I could see right through them. The second they get to, you know they are gonna try something.

--

After about five more shots and three more games, those idiots see their chance. I had already ditched my entertainment for the evening as soon as I saw Y/N. To be fair, you were pretty entertaining too. 

I could see where their eyes went. Where their hands wanted to go.

“Let’s get out of here!” Said the one.

“No! More booze!” Y/N replied. “More booze, more booze, more booze, more--” You stopped your chant when the leader of the pack put his hand on the bottom of your back. I could tell that you didn’t like that. They sure did.

“Come on, baby,” another one said as he grabbed you by your arm and started to pull you outside.

You walked out the door with the three numbskulls chasing after you. 

“Alright,” I said as I got up and followed you.

They took you out behind the bar and were all over you. I would’ve come sooner but you had managed to knock them all out before I had the chance to watch the game of whack a mole.

“You good?” I asked, still in shock by how even though you were drunk, you still managed to get three guys, who are double your size, unconscious.

“Yep!” You reply, almost combining all the letters together. You start to fall over when you try to salute me.

“Woah, woah, woah,” I rush over to you before you fall, “I got you.” I smiled at you. Still gorgeous. From the minute I saw you, I knew that you must be the most gorgeous woman in the world. You collapsed downwards, not far from face planting in the ground.

“Imma… Imma… I think I’m gonna throw up,” you tell me as you lean over and start to hurl. I can’t help but laugh.

“You’re alright,” I say as I stand you back up. You walk over and place your back against the wall. You stare into my eyes and I stare into yours.

It was a beautiful night. You could see the stars thanks to the busted light beside the dumpster. It was beautiful. You were beautiful. You are beautiful.

You started hiccupping. “Dea--hiccup--I’ve got to tell you--hiccup--I’ve got to tell--hiccup--Dean--hiccup--I love--hiccup--” You never finished your unfinishable statement. 

Ah!

We both heard a scream turning our attention away from one another. You bolted towards the sound, even faster than I could run.

It was a young girl. Must’ve been about sixteen. A guy had her pinned up against the wall with a knife to her throat.

The girl continued to scream as he made little incisions into her skin.

Before I could even react, you went over to the man, tapped his shoulder, and in an instant, you knocked him flat on his ass. 

“Are you okay, honey?” You asked the girl. She nodded with tears in her eyes. “It’s okay,” you said as she wrapped her arms around your neck. You gently rubbed her back, trying to comfort her. “It’s okay.”

“You alright?” I asked again, as you appeared to be fully alert while being completely intoxicated.

“Yeah, Dean. I’m fine,” you smile. You take the girl out of your arms and wipe her tears. “We’re gonna get you home, okay?” The girl nods as you guide her over to Baby.

--

I took care of the guy by handcuffing him to a fence, leaving a present for the cops. You took care of the girl by just making sure she was okay. You had been in the backseat with her until we arrived at her parents house. You didn’t even blink till you knew she was safe and sound.

You came and took a seat in the passenger side before we left her house.

“What?” You asked me.

“What?” I replied with a smile on my face.

“You’re looking at me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re looking at me. Why are you looking at me?”

“I can’t help it.” I can’t. You took out four guys tonight all while being completely drunk. That’s a feat even I couldn’t conquer.

“Well fine then!” You shout. “If you wanna look at me so much then you can just look at me as I lay right down here in your lap,” you say with a big grin.

“Okay?” I question.

“Alright,” you say as you lay down in the seat while placing your head in my lap. “Cool. Goodnight, baby.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. You were drunk. You were really drunk.

You closed your eyes, almost falling asleep instantly. I look at you. I look at your head placed in my lap.

“Goodnight, baby. Sweet dreams.”

--

It was only about a half hour later that I ended up carrying you bridal style back to the motel. 

Your eyes kept fluttering, drifting in and out of sleep. You kept mumbling too. I just nodded along with whatever words came out of your mouth.

I placed you gently down on your bed. I pulled up the sheets and blankets on top of you. You started to reach for my hand. You grabbed me and pulled me closer to you. Before I knew it, your lips were locked with mine. You tasted like four kinds of rum and some cheap gin but the feeling… it felt so good. It was perfect.

You just about passed out before you could make out with me even more. I just gently put your head back down on the pillow causing you to fall right back asleep.

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

“What?” You ask in shock of if the events he’d just revealed were true or not.

“Yeah,” he replies with a smile. “That happened too. And that’s the night I truly fell in love with you. It wasn’t even the kiss that got me. It was the fact that you completely went out of your way to make sure that that girl was safe. I don’t even think you could’ve remembered your own name at the time. Yet, you had your instinct still intact. Your instinct to save and protect people. It’s my favorite thing about you. ”

“But--How…”

“...Can you not remember? Or why didn’t I tell you?” Dean finishes. You nod. “I didn’t tell you cause,” he takes a deep breath, “I didn’t want to risk losing the best friend I’ve ever had.”

“Okay. Okay.” You try to reassure yourself. “Okay then, if you love me, then why the hell do you pick on me all the time?”

“Oh come on! That is literally the most obvious thing that I could’ve done,” he says. You shake your head confused. “Don’t you know that in school, the guy always picks on the girl cause he likes her?”

“So you are comparing yourself to some immature child now?”

“What! No, that’s not!--Okay, look, you and I both know that I’m not Mr. Share all when it comes to emotions.”

“And whose fault is that? Huh?” You roll your eyes.

“Wait a second now, you’re the one who always runs to Sam whenever you want to talk about something. Never once have you run to me so why would I feel as if I could talk to you?” Dean answers defensively.

“So now it’s my fault? You do realize that it’s a two way street?!” You throw up your hands and lean back your head. “Wow. You just told me you were in love with me and we somehow manage to turn it into a fight,” you say with a huff.

Dean laughs. “You’re not wrong, sweetheart.”

“Really?!” You say agitated.

“What?”

“That! That right there. Calling me ‘sweetheart’ like you do every other girl. Now that pisses me off.” 

“Y/N,” Dean says as he looks in your eyes. “If you think that I call every girl sweetheart, then you must be deaf. Because, see, I call them sweetheart but you are the only one who I’ve ever called sweetheart.”

The change in Dean’s voice actually surprises you. You‘ve never thought about how he’s said it differently before. “Sweetheart.” It had a nice ring to it.

You and Dean take a minute to process everything. 

“So you are really in love with me?” You ask. No harm in being extra sure.

“Yep,” Dean replies. “I’m totally head over heels,” he moves closer to you, “butterflies in stomachs,” he leans in, “crazy in love.” He places his lips on yours.

This was perfect. It was finally perfect.

Dean moved his lips away from yours for just a second to catch a breath. “And just so you know, sweetheart, the spell worked on me because I was already in love with you. The witch was trying to force love, but when it came to me, let’s just say it’s taken everything in me to not come in here and kiss you sooner.” Dean turns his gaze from your lips to your eyes.

“You couldn’t have just started with that information, couldn’t you?” You question with a smile.

“Nah, too easy.”

“Oh, shut up, Winchester,” you command as you press your lips on him once more.

You wrap your arms around each other, continuing to kiss every square inch accessible on the skin.

“Alright,” Dean says as he stands up. “Come on.” He reaches out for your hand and to take it hesitantly.

“What?” You ask.

“As much as I want to spend every second having my lips on you, I came here for a reason.”

“And that is…”

Dean smiles down at you and brushes his hand on the back of your neck as he pulls you close. “I’m taking you home, baby.”

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

You took a ride in Baby back to the bunker. Your heart was racing. You had laid your head in Dean’s lap again. He continued to comb through your hair. He couldn’t help but smile. You couldn't even think about frowning.

Walking through the bunker doors was something that you had fantasized about from the moment you left in the first place. 

Sam was the first one to come running through the war room, racing to you as he wrapped his gigantic arms around you. He had watery eyes that you couldn’t help but mirror when you thought of how much you missed him. 

Next was Cas. He wasn’t as quick to get to you, but his grip was so tight. He wrapped his arms around you. He almost crushed you but you didn’t even care. He kept hanging onto you with even Sam joining in the hug. Dean eventually wrapped his arms around the group too. They all hugged you so tight. It felt so perfect.

You were home. You were finally home. You were with your family. You were finally at peace. You were finally, truly, 100%, completely, happy.

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Hope you enjoyed it!

Tag list is open!

@crazybutconfidentaf @doctorlilo @pillowjj @busy-bee-angel-misska @vicmc624 @sl33pybo1

I’d just like to say that I’ve really enjoyed writing this series! I hope to write more in the future. Thank you all for reading! Lots of Love!

[thelordstears]

I can’t possibly stop writing. I fear I’d cease to exist and crumble into ashes (And that’d suck)

“ People don't need to drop a single drop of blood from their own kind to make it in this world, but unfortunately, we call ourselves animal to excuse such animalistic acts.” - Brooke Woodwarde 

“ We are no wolves, we are no sheep, we're people. But I don't see us acting as such. We act as if we were beasts, sent here to destroy. Odin, lives in honor, we do not reflect that. There's no honor in unnecessary bloodshed. We aren't human, anymore.” - Brooke Woodwarde

“ Who cares if the knights worship one Lord? For all we know there could be nothing in the skies but clouds and stars.” - Brooke Woodwarde

“ This is a land of war, not a land of honor. We poisoned the garden and asked why it withered." - Brooke Woodwarde

"Your mind is not so sympathetic, your mind is the greatest torture device in your arsenal. It works against you, just as a shattered clock ticks in the wrong direction, your mind thinks all wrong, wicked deeds plague you, but once you learn to accept you're no decent human being you learn, perhaps broken never meant bad.” - Elton Sederfault

“ I have been through many a torment, many a tragedy, so much so that I believe I became one.” - Elton Sederfault

“ My heart has been torn from my chest so horrifically, you wouldn't believe what beats inside my chest. Oh it's such an ugly creature, wrought with sin and hatred, but once upon a time a love for the world. But this gem inside my chest, this beautiful diamond lost it's glimmer. And now, it's nothing but coals, and the fire shalt only burn other's." - Elton Sederfault

“ Tom is broken, in some ways. But da most beautiful of things always are. 'E's stronger den 'e could eva' know, he's me damn son, and I love 'im, and if 'e ever needed a shield against da bullet's the world sends 'is way, I'll stand in front'a him and make sure 'e knew, I's got 'is damn back, always.” - Cleopatra Peterson

“ Look, ya could act as if yer past were chains that drag ya down, or ya could realize ya hold the key, and it's a little bit 'a faith.” - Cleopatra Peterson

"Perfection is an abnormality we can't achieve, who ever says they're perfect is either a liar or extremely lost in their very own delusion.” - Cruz Santinos

“ Reality is much, much, stranger than fiction. Because what I see, it's real, perhaps not to you, but I see it, and by God, does it scare me.” - Cruz Santinos

“ Here I am, lost in a world unraveled travelling these lands, wishing I was alone. But with a plague such as mine? I ain't never alone. By God do I wish I could be lonely, for once. These voices don't leave, and with a world devoid of medicine, there ain't no cure no more.” - Cruz Santinos

“ People don't give a fuck, they'll tear into you, and say you were the one serving the platter. What's a rabbit to a wolf but a means to an end?” - Cas Holts

“ Ya know, the sun always rises but that don't mean the days always warm. There's morning dew, the frost that lays against the damn trees, and snow that cuts against your damn cheek. The sun rising don't bring warmth it just brings a little bit of damn hope.” - Cas Holts

“ Welcome, welcome, come round, gather to watch the greatest show of all time. The fall of Ellsworth Davis, the showman, the mad man, the tyrant of the circus! He's watched you all suffer, so why not make him suffer huh? Suffering leads to hatred, and hatred leads to villainy.” - Ellsworth Davis

“ I watch the lion leap through the ring of fire and let his mane burn simply for my pleasure, the one whom tames the animals gets eaten alive by the wolves he though family, the strongman is crushed beneath his own weights, and the clown puts on a smile for all, but deep inside knows, a painted smile is all he could ever manage. You might as well call me P.T Barnum, because I am a cruel being, using humans as my very own freak show attraction! The elephant man would snap his own neck because all he ever wanted to do, was be normal. But no, he was a freak of nature they said! An atrocity! A circus act only to be displayed but never sympathized for! We are all freakish in nature, knowing normality is something we can't achieve.” - Ellsworth Davis

“ I run the sinners circus, I let lions leap through flames and trapeze artists swing through the air with no net. And I suppose, the joke was always on me." - Ellsworth Davis

"If this is life, and all I ever was is a perpetrator of evil deeds, than give me the very thing I've given so many other's. Besides, death is the only thing that could save me.” - Dylan Huffers

“ I got some devils ta slay and some damn debts ta pay. Ya listenin', devil who broke me so? Cause if ya thought Hell was bad, let me introduce ya ta vengeance.” - Dylan Huffers

“ I coulda been a saint long 'go, but now I'm nothin' but an angry bull, ready ta charge at the matador who provoked me. Show me the color 'a red, and I'll show you a darker hue.” - Dylan Huffers

“ I'd pray ta bring back my wings, but where has prayer ever gotten me? An echo of silence and my thoughts, so right where I began.” - Dylan Huffers

“ My mother is a memory, she was a hero, maybe not in the world's eyes, but my own. I guess, we get what we fucking get and don't throw a fit. So save me, or don't. I can deal with both salvation and damnation, so long as I get peace." - Dylan Huffers

"They say fear is a survival mechanism, it keeps you alive, but from what I've seen first hand fear is no survival mechanism, it is in fact the very opposite. Fear is what gets you killed, and he who lives without it, pulls the trigger.” Redacted

“ I am a God, a dynasty, a ruler. They say all rulers fall, but here I am, opposing that rule. I could sweep down and cut anyone I please down, because I'm feared. The key to ruling a kingdom is fear, your subjects fear the consequence of their actions, whether it be death or suffering they'll never know.” Redacted

“ All you need to appease the crowd is a jacket of good deeds.” Redacted

“ If you live life in sorrow, that is no life at all, perhaps you're past is a sorrowful tale, but don't let that define your future.” - Lacey Rose

“ Family can be anyone, people you met while you held onto Hell, or people who dragged you into the light, even if you kicked, screamed and resisted. We are all of us beautiful, and we deserve the chance to know it.” - Lacey Rose

"I think the path we're given is often one to follow, and if you go astray, just listen to your heart, it'll usually lead you in the right direction. Sure, it might break every once in awhile, but who said a little love can't fix the heart? It's the only remedy known to cure a broken heart.” - Gideon Rose

“ My mother has always said, "Son, don't let the world kill ya. You're stronger than the image the world wants to paint you as." And isn't that just beautiful? You don't have to be the canvas someone has made you out to be. You hold your own brush, and though your canvas may be filled with scars, paint over them. Yes, they'll remain upon the surface, but they'll be hidden from the present, and you don't have to face them unless you're ready.” - Gideon Rose

“ You look at me as you would a homeless man, "Oh he's just another drug addict, lost to the world's poison." But alas, society has never been a caring one, they say, "Look! Look at this poor mistreated fool! Watch him suffer! It's all he can do these days!" Isn't it amusing, how we damn what we don't understand because it'd be too much of a burden to understand it?” - Arthur Wellburn

“ We're all broken these days, wishing we could fix what we can never have, but we were never given the tools, so how do you expect us to create?” - Arthur Wellburn

“ I have a daughter, but surely she couldn't be proud of me, because I'm not even proud of myself, these days. So how can another claim a lie the truth when I already know it's heresy rolling of their tongue?” - Arthur Wellburn

“ No one man can withstand the storm forever. Eventually he chokes on the rain, it scalds his flesh and lightning strikes him down because all he ever was, is another casualty of a naturality.” - Arthur Wellburn

“ Ya might as well call me young Icarus, because I've put up my defenses and I'm damn well ready ta fly into the sun ta get what I seek. I may plummet from the sky on burnin' wings and hit the damn concrete face first, but if I can find myself after all these years, I'd rather be ashes then who I ain't.” - Zane Harrenburrow

“ Ya know, my life's been filled with scars that I wear on my damn sleeve, but I'm battle ready and unafraid of the god damn night. Because I've been through the dark before, and he who knows his own shadow, don't gotta fear what it'll do when the sun sinks and it ain't visible no more.” - Zane Harrenburrow

“ I've learned a helluva lot in this life of mine, most of all a bullet is the only thing that'll save a sinful man from himself. A threat or a reality, either way he'll be free from his actions, and so will the world.” - Delana Whinrich

“ When you stand in the midst of the option to save the world or yourself, choose the world for God's sake, don't make the same mistake I did.” - Delana Whinrich

“ Ya know, a man once told me, it was me pulling the trigger, whilst he held a gun to my father's head. But I've come to realize, whoever holds the gun has a choice, and thus is the one letting the damn bullet fly. Perhaps I pulled the trigger and pressed the detonator, but ya know what? I'm still a damn soldier. I fight for myself, the ones I love and the freedom of a shackled world. I'm a killer, but at least I can benefit the damn world huh?" - Delana Whinrich

"The world doesn't miss anybody, it's the people who grieve, not the earth." - Delana Whinrich

"The Queen's gambit, the act of moving a pawn upon your board as a means to sacrifice him but give the opponent a disadvantage. I think if one is to proceed with the Queen's gambit, the pawn should always be oneself.” - Romiro Smilowitz

“ People say God don't speak, but I think his actions speak a helluva lot louder than his words. We're still alive, and isn't that proof that he still has something in store for us? We may not have an instruction manual to fix the world, but all we need is our hearts and each other.” - Romiro Smilowitz

“ I'd rather be remembered as a man who did what was right, then a man who did what would keep him kicking. Survival is about how far you'll go, but life? It's about where you cross the damn line." - Romiro Smilowitz

"I'm brave, but not in the traditional sense. I block off my emotion in a battle, because I've found all it'll do is hurt me. I've let emotion control me in life before, all it resulted in was loss of life. I'm a blank slate of empty emotion.” - Cosmina Winchester

“ Everything I am is often associated with the vultures, because death hovers around me, it's as if I'm to be picked clean of good intentions and left out to rot with nothing but an ill mind.” - Cosmina Winchester

“ This cell of myself is constricting, because I fear myself, but I won't let that fear consume me. Because if I fear myself well and truly, I can't pick up a blade and show others, I am too be feared.” - Cosmina Winchester

"The roots of my family tree are wicked, but, as am I. I hang from this blackened tree, my body three feet above ground, I swing from my very own wickedness, choking on the feeble distraught of my very own sin. I look at the hands that put me in this noose, and I recognize them, the rings and the scars, the bruises and the callouses, because by God, they're my own.” - Mike Duster

“ I'm sinful down to my very core, because I was born a monster, my father has always told me, "If ya can't sin, you can't survive." But my mother has always said, "When ya get bucked off the path, you get back on the saddle." How am I to do both? Because I fear I am the very horse who bucked me off a cliffside and careened my way towards a safer clearing.” - Mike Duster

“ How is one to breathe in existence, if she doesn't even know the definition?” - Cathletta Mason

“ The hands of my father can't touch me in death.” - Cathletta Mason

“ I'm a demon in human form, a demon princess as Zargrod would say. He's sinful to his very core, and one day, he'll be my King of scorched intentions and wicked deeds. I'll be his Queen of bloodied gown and sinful lust, because what am I to do but let this love burn me to ash?” - Cathletta Mason

“ Life don't last forever honey, but my story will." - Cathletta Mason

"I look inside my chest and find my heart is a blood moon the shade of black.” - Idian Witson

“ I have claws made of sin and bone, all they do is rip into saints, its as if I'm a cheetah, because these claws don't retract, they tear into the soil as I bound and leap through the fields to pounce on the unaware gazelle who only ever wanted to graze in the grass, but would learn it was a hunting grounds.” - Idian Witson

“ I suppose I'm out of my mind, my heart is as pitch black as the nebula and as far away from warmth as Pluto.” - Idian Witson

“ They say we're all sinners, I just wish I hadn't taken it ta a higher degree.” - Greg Metals

“ I've lived my life on the highway, the revving of engines and the roar of motorcycles. But if only I hadn't become the damn crash everyone looks upon in horror. My bones broke, my heart cracked and scattered across the damn highway, but it wasn't me who was killed by the horrific accident, by God it was other's, and by God it haunts me.” - Greg Metals

“ So raise a damn glass for the tired biker, or poison the glass and finally let 'im drop. Cheers, am I right?" - Greg Metals 

  “ Sluzmink says it's about time someone told the damn truth. So you know what? He'll find the truth isn't bloodstained, it isn't glorified sin and bone, it's me and my six shooter with nothing but my fucking rage.” - Vivian McDermot

“ Life don't gotta be bloodstained, but Sluzmink's will be.” - Vivian McDermot

“ When someone loses everything, she's free to do whatever she pleases so long as it's in sorrow. And this vengeance of mine is  a sorrowful tale. Because by the end I'll hold the broken corpse of Sluzmink fucking Jones, but I'll also hold the corpse of me.” - Vivian McDermot

“ Vengeance is a slippery slope, and I'm gonna tumble down this cliffside and take Sluzmink with me.” - Vivian Mcdermot

"You want injustice you have to get through law, and these days that wall is thin as a sheet of paper.” - Alberto Newhill

“ I've got my badge of honor and my pistol, but God, how can one man face a thousand and come out the other side of the battle alive?” - Alberto Newhill

“ One man can bury a secret, but a whole town can unbury it with integrity and will power.” - Alberto Newhill

“ The runt of the littler is the least likely to survive it's a sad fact, but true. You can't be a sheep when wolves have taken over the world, monsters hide in plain sight and I suppose I'm one of em.” - Redacted (Different one from before)

“ The street lights shine light on me only because they fear what I'd do in the dark.” - Redacted

“ A wolf in sheep's clothing is deadlier than a wolf in fur." - Redacted

"They called me sadistic killer, countess of blood, a reincarnation of Countess Bathory, the story upon the News naming me Countess of death. I'm nothing more than sin and divinity wrapped in barbed wire and glory.” - Tilda Hawsberry

“ 'm so wrapped in flames it's become my dress, I twirl through this stage, embers and sparks alighting a blaze so magnificent that even the bug burning in the firepit would call it beauty.” - Tilda Hawsberry

“ Most live in a single moment, and forget that their life is made of up many little moments that define who they are. We all live ruled by fate, but what if, fate, betrayed you? The roll of the dice land on snake eyes and you end up in debt, or worse, in a coffin.” - Tilda Hawsberry

“ How is it I am to survive in a world that's already damned me? Am I to cast myself into the flame so another can not?” - Shandalar Belrie

“ I fled from the place I found pain, but still it follows me.” - Shandalar Belrie

“ I wish such cruel harms on the King, but if I were to kill him, I would in turn stab myself in the back and leave myself bleeding on his floor.” - Shandalar Belrie

“ How am I to live in the moment when all I can remember is the past?” - Shandalar Belrie

“ Forgive me, Gods, for I have sinned. And I only wish to survive so long as I have a path to follow that leads me to you." - Shandalar Belrie

"I haven't lost faith in God, only myself.” - Jack Samson

“ I brandish a pistol and a badge, but do I brandish a heart?” - Jack Samson

"Heroes aren't remembered, but that don't mean they're lost in the soils of history. A hero don't gotta go down in history, just up in flames for a good cause.” - Miella Fang

“ I'm a hero, not because I pull a trigger but because I don't. A bullet won't save someone who wishes to be better, sometimes all ya need to do is put that gun back in your damn holster and offer your hand to the broken soul in front of ya.” - Miella Fang

“ He says no one can kill the idea of him, that he'll go down in history, then I'll give him his damn wish. But to go down in history, first he's gotta go down.” - Miella Fang

"You first have to light a match to feel the flame, but who said it's gotta scald your heart? Why not let it melt instead? In love, in another's heart, in joy to be alive. Not every flame is lethal.” - Lorelei Metals

“ I used to weep because I thought love was a lost cause, but when Lillian holds my hand and tells me I'm hers, I feel truly, alive. And isn't it beautiful, to live for another while still living for yourself?” - Lorelei Metals

“ I could let my thoughts be bullets, or I could let them be flowers that'll blossom into the most beautiful and prospering ideas.” - Lorelei Metals

“ I love who I am, I've evolved so much, and.. I think my sister would be proud of that. God, how I miss her. She was always my hero, in all her tattooed bisexual glory.” - Lorelei Metals

“ I've been wild all my life, been caught in the riptide 'a all my pretty lil sins, but I had ta do those things ta stay topside the soil, so is it a crime ta wanna live? If it's a crime ta defend myself, give me a death sentence and call it justice” - Ivy Felinmote

“ I ain't the best woman, but I do try my best. I ain't no hero, never have been, I'm just a girl with a baseball bat and some elbow grease.” - Ivy Felinmote

“ I miss pops, he didn't deserve the fate 'e got. But now he's in the soil, and I suppose I got myself ta blame for that. I can spin the tale a thousand different ways, but it always ends with a bullet and tears.” - Ivy Felinmote

"I am the singular black rose in the garden.” - Madam Stephanie Rose

“A gardener would cut me from his garden of silk red roses and yellow poppies because I don't fit the aura in all my darkness and thorns. Not even my petals are beautiful, they reek of death and corruption.” - Madam Stephanie Rose

“ But now she's a wisp in my mind, a ghost haunting the halls of my mind, because she's gone, by the Gods she's gone and there's nothing I can do to bring her back. I've looked in every spell book, prayed to every God, but you need a body to bring back the dead, and I have nothing of her but memories.” - Madam Stephanie Rose

“ I could step into a garden and every rose would wilt and whither away into nothing but dust. I'm such a sinful creature that even nature can't accept me. As I said, I am the singular black rose in the garden, my thorns dig into my heart and the pitch of my heart becomes dark, the flowing of my blood in my veins becomes venomous and the petals I brandish whither and wilt and turn to dust before my eyes.” - Madam Stephanie Rose

"I'm a shootin' star hurtlin' towards greatness as if it were the got damn dinosaurs. I know greatness is a relative term, but all it takes ta be a great man is ta help other's with your actions, eh?” - Church Godsel

“ I'd rather be alone with my thoughts than surrounded in people who don't know what it is ta live.” - Church Godsel

“ I'd step inta the frontlines ta save an innocent man, my father don't like bloodshed, he wonders how we made such an egregious deed honorable, but I think so long as you got good intentions with that rifle 'a yours you gotta save who you can with the bullets you got.” - Church Godsel

"I am woven in the most beautiful of horrors, and the most delusional mystique.” - Alviro Conritz

“ I met evil when I was only a child, he was my father, after all. In all his delusions and all his horrors, he was my father, and I only wish for him to see one thing. My revolver before his final moments flash before my eyes.” - Alviro Conritz

“ I am the thing that goes bump in the night, I am the boogeyman and one of the thirty six murderers you will pass in your lifetime.” - Alviro Conritz

“ I drowned myself and people expect me to be my past self. But he's dead, isn't he? That scared little boy is gone, buried somewhere deep inside the woods behind his childhood home. I could look myself in the eye, and I'd stab myself in the back just to get ahead. Perhaps this is why I bleed so heavily, because I betrayed myself in a sense. But I won't stop, there's something therapeutic about all this madness.” - Alviro Conritz

"Ya know, I thought history was cruel. And then I lived it." - Marv Callemritz

"Sometimes, the monsters are the ones we trust the most, even if we don't wanna believe it." - Mathias Gonvable

"Oh I have long since learned that when it rains, it pours heavy on your beaten and tattered soul. Hold a dollar to the sky, the wind will pick up, and take it away in one gust, the wind, blows, blows, blows, and in its wake, trouble comes, but oh it surely doesn't go, friend." - Shawn Werdelstein

"I am the dark, and where I go trouble follows, so tread lightly, this territory is protected with fangs and old scars." - Shawn Werdelstein

"Livin' in reality, it gets dark, twisted. I suppose that's the nature of all things." - Shawn Werdelstein

"Zachary ya ain't so much a God, you hold the power 'a one, there's a difference in that. The statue of a God can be toppled, a God himself can not." - Klaus Van Velk

"When the world is at it's all time low, I am at my all time high." - Klaus Van Velk

"We already were fuckin' free mate, do you fink your politicians fought for freedom? Dey fight for bloodlust and bloodlust alone. Dey fight for demselves, if dey cared bout da cause, dey'd pick up da rifle demselves." - Winfield Coleman

"I could look into my soul, but all I'd find is desolation." - Scarletta Bonewhistle

“I'd say you deserve mercy, my brother. But that'd make both of us liars." - Violetta Gursoch

"Sometimes you have to realize the only way to win, is to own a black heart." - Ares Malstone

"Blame God all ya want Wes, but c'mon, give me a lil credit." - Gunther Mirowick

"I am but a wolf, feasting on his own wool." - Drake Chains

"Salvation holds no price too heavy to pay." - Shilo Downsworth

"I've learned justice and mercy can not, and will not, live side by side. I've watched as people tried, to show mercy to the wicked, yet in turn, they shoved a blade in their back, and the cycle of evil only continued." - Shilo Dowsnworth

"The element 'a surprise will be enough ta take out more than a few soldiers. Trust me, when guns go'a blazin' and the echo of mortality falterin' starts ringin' through the damn sky, even soldiers cower." - Davy Blight

"You could call me a saint, but I'd prove you wrong for a single gold coin." - Lugarn the Shadow

"I can't call myself a hero when I've never saved a life." - Grifold Hangers

"Life will pass you by if you don't live it." - Leonard Bakers

"I found living the wild side of life will only end in a wild way. There's no peace when you're living in chaos." - Moon Crimsonburn

"We're all saints in a world that forces us to be sinners." - Terrance Possematto

"People born into a bad life will think that's what it means to live." - Sarkelus Johnson

"I've found if it is darkness you seek, it is darkness you shall find. Seek out the light between the shadows, and you'll find it." - Victor Da Ville

"In that house of God, in that holy church, all I found was darkness and secrets no one would ever wish to see in the light." - Samina Gelbrook

"We're far from Heaven, close ta Hell, burnin' in our sins as if we were nothin' more but the trees in a forest." - Fallows Diamond

"I think, in every bad situation, there's something to be learned. Don't let the people who hurt you become imbedded so deep into your skin that they become a part of you." - Quinn Greaves

"Sometimes life kicks ya down. Just dust yourself off, and roll your die again, based on pure statistic, one day, you'll get that twenty, and find everything you never knew you needed." - Quinn Greaves

"Sometimes the world is a prison and we're the convicts polluting her atmosphere in our darkness but other times the sun shines our beaten souls." - Issac Abernathy

"He may not give two fucks about the pain he's caused, but when I'm standing before him, a gun at his damn head, he'll hear me loud and fucking clear." - Brandon Killovitch

"No one guns a man down and calls it peace except for he who tells the soldier to pull the trigger." - Messiah Morrington

"Revenge is immoral. So call me unholy." - Leola Jenefine

“If your demons are silent, listen for your angels.” - Caramel Pettagrew

"I'm covered in the blood of everything I was, I'm dancing in the ashes of me, but I held the very match that lit the damn flame.” - Sostias Hoffman

“ If my footsteps lead me inta the dark, then let me light a candle ta guide the way, and if my candle snuffs may my feet lead the way, and find the light that waits at the end 'a the tunnel.” - Alonzo Graves

"Most days my demons are silent, but on the days they speak, they break the sound barrier and leave it difficult to find any peace and quiet.” - Veronica Villenwicker

"It is in my darkest hour, in the hottest flame, the coldest ice, I have found everything I thought I had lost.” - George Stinson

“ I've lost a helluva bloody lot in life, I lost my innocence when I was thirteen, my 'ome when I was sixteen, and my will ta fuckin' live at twenty god damn one.” - Saria Romiro

"If you've seen hell, in all it's unholy flame and damnation, tell me, what does the welcome sign to Evergreen's bay look like? It's rusted around the edges, it's been weathered down by time as all things. It's hell in all it's darkness.” - Remo Gonvable

“ I don't know how the world twisted and turned in such a dark direction, but if I can't find light in the day, I'll create my damn own.” - Sheila Gonvable

[espejonight28738]

"Golden Time" & "Last Call" Meta

You know the deal: Destiel and Saileen positive, so don’t like don’t read.

Hi! So, long story short, the two weeks after “Golden Time” I had so much homework I was sleeping an average of, like, 3 hours a day, didn’t have time to write meta. And when I finally had time, “Last Call” was airing the next day, so I kinda gave up and decided not to do a meta on 15x06. BUT BOY, last chapter just wrapped everything I wanted to say about the previous chapter, so I decided I´m just gonna mix both here.

I know it sound crazy, but trust me, I kinda have a point here.

First, we got back Eileen. I’m ecstatic about that. We needed the comeback of a female character and I’m so glad that is my BAMF girl. I love her. Now, you know my theories for the writers choosing Eileen as the character to bring back from the dead, if not they are here. But this time I became overwhelmed with fear that I didn’t knew why she was brought back inside the story, because this is writing inside of writing.

Like, we know that Chuck is controlling the story again (I´ll deepen in the ambiguity of how in charge he is in a minute) to some degree. Chuck decided to make Eileen appear, he decided to give Sam a half-done ritual he could use to bring her back. And that scares me, because Sam being happy (As he is with Eileen being domestic and adorable, my heart can´t handle them being this cute istg) isn’t what he wants for the endgame. So why bring her back at all?

And then, there is the fact that Chuck was… suspiciously absent in these two episodes. I mean, in “Atomic Monsters” we saw Chuck getting back into writing. In “Proverbs 17:3” we had Lilith directly address Chuck plan to some degree, for she was part of it. The fact that both MOTW were so… plain, and that fit so well with Becky´s complaining, we are being told that this is Chuck writing, everything is.

But then we have 15x06 and 15x07 and… nothing? I mean, yes, they are looking for them or whatever, but I feel like we lost this feeling of impending doom and helplessness that Chuck was making every move. Why?

It’s because Chuck isn’t as shitty writer as the last chapters were. I mean, Supernatural has mistakes and a little of oocness here and there, but it’s a good story, and it is Chuck’s. He can write things that doesn´t feel forced or scripted, he just was shaking the remains of that writer’s block. I think these two episodes were still written totally by him. After I reached that conclusion, everything made sense again.

Going back to the end of “Proverbs 17:3” we have a pretty fucked up situation. Dean is totally hopeless and broken, Sam is overwhelmed by everyone they have lost, from Jess to Rowena, and Cas is AWOL. That… isn´t a good place for main characters to be if you wanna write an epic ending, specially one as dramatic as the one Chuck wants. It’s like kicking someone who is already knocked out. So what did Chuck do?

He got everyone back in the game.

Dean gave up? Remind him of why he fights. Righter of wrongs. No matter who many years passed, Dean is the Righteous Man. “Why do you care so much, Dean?” “Because someone has to.” / “Then you fix it. You don´t walk away, you fight for it.” / “You really want to do this?” “No I don´t, but I kill monsters.”

We saw someone who was like Dean, but took another path, became a monster. Dean isn´t like that. He doesn’t walk away. And you got him back on the game.

Sam is overwhelmed with grief of the people the have lost in the last 15 years? Then let´s bring back someone. Let´s give him hope he can win, that not everyone they come across is damned to die. And what says hope as a pure, innocent love? Chuck knows his tropes.

And just like that, he's back on the game.

Castiel… this is has being bothering me for days, not gonna lie to you. It's clear that Cas has no place in Chuck’s ending, He hasn't appear in Sam’s visions, his doll wasn’t in the desk where Chuck was writing, and the “No one even mentions Cas” line was supposed to bring out attention to that very fact.

Then why bring him back to the game? I know that we have this collective theory as a fandom right now, where Cas is the key to freewill, and that the reason Chuck doesn´t want him there is because he keeps going out of script. But there has to be more to Chuck feelings on Cas because, quoting him, “I´ve rebuild Castiel more times that I can count.”

If he truly thought that Cas was a danger to his story, he would have stayed dead. We know that Chuck doesn’t control 100% of the actions, because if he did Dean would have killed Jack, and Sam wouldn´t have shot him. Is he the reason Cas just comes and goes? Why hasn´t he killed him as he has killed literally everyone else? Does Cas is so out of his control he can´t kill him in the story? Then why not snap him like he did with Jack? To which extent he wrote things? Was he being truthful in his surprise back in s4 with his “You´re not supposed here. You're not in this story” and Cas´ subsequent “Yeah, well... We´re making it up as we go”?

I´m with Dean in this, it is driving me crazy not knowing what´s God and what isn´t.

But my point here was that this, at least, is Chuck's doing. The fact that his determination comes at the same time that Dean and Sam´s is too perfect for it to be a coincidence.

Cas honestly came back out of spite. I mean, he did just lost friends, and his son, and his ex-boybest friend, and his other best friend because he is brother of the guy he just broke up with… and everything, just so you tell him God is still out there messing with their lives.

I would be kinda worried if he wasn´t angry.

And now he just goes to the bunker, and without even saying hi to Sam (I think he only greeted Eileen) he just throws this plan that he knows is dangerous for Sam and it´s like “okay let´s do it”. And okay, obviously Sam would be on board, he trusts Cas, but not even discussing the risk? What happened with “Nothing is worth losing you”?

But then it hit me, that was also Chuck. He needed to go quickly, make all of this before Dean came back. Go straight to the point.

He is setting himself up as the big baddie. He could have gone under the radar and work from the shadows, but he sent Lilith so they knew he was back. And know he set the bait and they think they have a chance to beat him. Now he can start working towards his end.

And that could be another reason to bring Cas back, right? Yes, as a device plot for Sam to get into Chuck´s head, but also as a tool for emotional instability, for both brothers yes, but specially for Dean.

He knows how broken and alcoholic and reckless and suicidal Dean gets when Cas dies. He wrote s7 and s13. An easy way to break him without killing Sam, for he needs both brothers for the Gran Finale.

Or if he decides to go for the Demon!Dean path, then he needs to kill Cas before he kills Sam because the Abel-Cain-Colette/Sam-Dean-Cas parallel. Or maybe have Demon Blood!Sam kill him so Dean gets the resolve to kill him. Basically, a device for angst.

Same, I suppose, as he plans to do with Eileen. Kill her in the right moment.

But in Castiel´s case, I do still think Chuck wants to kill him before he can mess his plan, so I feel his death a lot more imminent. Or I think it would be better to say that I do expect him to die at all, after all we still have all this Empty plot unresolved. Eileen is on Chuck´s plan, but I don´t think she will die. After all, is practically a confirmed fact that the end of Supernatural is a happy one. Maybe not he happiest, but happy, and poor girl being brought back and killed again in the same season is too much.

Next chapter we are getting Adam/Micheal back and… I don´t know what to do with that information. I know I just said that everything until now is Chuck´s script, but I do think it is a posibility that he just had forgotten about Adam/Micheal (I’m sorry but I mean, the “you let me rot in hell” is too personal to be Micheal, but I don´t see how Adam could possibly still be a functional human, so I don´t even know who are we gonna see). And this Micheal didn´t did the whole Apocalypse thing with God no coming back, so I´m not sure that he will be angrier at Him that at the Winchesters. I don´t know what´s gonna happen.

Obviously, there will be some ground to the midseason finale of a plan to beat Chuck that won´t work and make us all be at the edge of our sits in despair in March or something, but more precisely? I don´t know. I know there are some theory about Cas dying, and that Dean´s prayers in 15x09 will wake him in the Empty, and I like it, but I don´t think there is enough evidence to support it. So, I think the only thing we have left is wait and see.

Tagging: @metafest ​ @verobatto-angelxhunter ​ @legendary-destiel ​ @agusvedder ​ (Pls tell me if you wanna stop being tagged)

[maggiemaybe160]

Hate Isn’t the Opposite of Love

Fic based on @nox-lee‘s poem 10 Things I Hate About Castiel, A Poem by Dean Winchester

“Personal space, Cas,” Dean says without looking up. The sound of wings beating against the air is louder than everything else. It lights Dean’s nerve endings on fire, sets his heart racing, and makes him want to reach for the angel responsible. 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says behind him. Dean dries his face he’s just finished washing and looks up into the mirror at the source of everything. 

“You know I hate that.” Dean clenches his jaw, swallowing hard as he turns around and notices just how close they’re standing. “I hate the way you stand so close.”

“Sorry,” Cas mutters, taking a small step back. Dean wants to stop him and pull him back to being too close. He desperately wants to, but he doesn’t. He never does and at this rate, he never will. 

“I hate how small this room is.” It’s stuffy and suffocating. There’s too much room, but also too little. Dean runs his hands through his hair and takes a deep breath as he steps around Cas. Their shoulders brush and electricity shocks him. “I hate everything.” 

“Are you feeling alright, Dean?” 

“No! I hate the way you wear your hair!” It used to stick out in every direction. He used to wear it like a wild thing. Now he combs it. He’s tamed it. Dean wants to reach into the thick, dark hair and pull it gently. He wants to feel the soft hair between his fingers as he restores the crazed style that he’d worn when they met. 

“I hate the way you stole my damn car.” Dean goes to his bed and remakes it even though it was already up to military standards. “I hate that you tried to give the mixtape back.” Dean turns around to face Cas. He wonders why his gaze is magnetic. He is locked in place every time he finds Cas’ eyes across a room or just a few inches apart. 

“I hate it when you stare.” 

Cas immediately looks down.

Dean walks back to him and lifts his chin gently, silently hating the searing touch. He wants more and can never have it. 

“I didn’t steal your car. Kelly did. I was going to wait for you. I never wanted to betray you, Dean.” His voice is soft and rough at the same time. It twists Dean’s stomach into knots. “I did though. I’m sorry.”

“I hate your big, dumb trenchcoat,” Dean says, his voice cracking under Cas’ apology. He straightens Cas’ lapel when it doesn’t need it. 

“Dean.” Cas catches his hand and holds it tightly. “It’s okay. I’m here.” 

“I hate the way you read my mind.” Dean squeezes Cas’ hand. “I hate you so much, Cas. I hate you so much for the way I feel and how you’re so kind.” His hand is on fire, but he can’t let go. 

Dean takes in a shaky breath. He doesn’t know why he’s still talking. He can’t make it stop. “I hate the way I made you fall,” he says quietly. Cas shakes his head, pushing Dean’s self-blame away. 

“Dean, please,” Cas begs. “Stop it.”

“I- I hate it when you die,” Dean chokes. He holds his hand back from cupping Cas’ face. “Every time it happens, it’s like the world is ending. I was ready for it to end last time, Cas. I’ve never felt like that before. I’ve lost so much, but losing you is too much.” 

Cas opens his mouth in silent shock as Dean feels his first tear fall. He doesn’t bother wiping it away, his hands occupied with holding onto Cas. 

“I hate you so much,” Dean shakes his head, “for giving up an army, your family, Heaven, just for one fucked up guy.”  

“I’ll always choose you, Dean. You’re my family. Not them. This is my home. Not Heaven. You’ve proven that to me. Please, Dean, tell me what’s really wrong,” Cas pleads, releasing Dean’s hands to pull him into a tight hug. Dean’s arms circle around him, holding onto him like the lifeline he has been and always will be. 

“I hate it when you’re not around and when you don’t call,” Dean says into Cas’ shoulder. His hands tighten, balling the trenchcoat into his fists. “But what’s really wrong, Cas,” Dean chokes, “is that I hate the way that I don’t hate you. Not even close. Not even a little bit.” Dean feels himself sinking. Quite literally he’s sinking to the floor and Cas is coming with. They crumple to the floor, Cas holding onto Dean, comfort in his arms. 

“Not even at all,” Dean admits, crying. 

“I love you, Dean,” Cas says, pressing his cheek to the top of Dean’s head. “I love that when I stand too close, your jaw tightens and your cheeks turn pink.”

Dean freezes, his head still against Cas’ chest, listening to the pounding of his heart. 

“I love the way you wear your hair. The way you style it up and pretend you don’t use products even though there’s an entire drawer just for you. The way it sticks up in the morning and you look like a sleepy hedgehog while you drink your coffee. The way it looks right now after you’ve messed it up in a fit, running your hands through it and pulling at it.” 

Dean wipes away his tears but remains where he is, curled against Cas. 

“I love that mixtape you gave me. I play it every night while you and Sam sleep. I sit in the Impala in the garage and listen to the entire thing for as long as I can get away with. 

“I love how much you tease me about my car. Your mean nicknames for it. You even tried covering up how much you hate it just because I was sick. I won’t pretend to understand your taste in cars, but it feels good to be joked with.

“Look at me,” Cas says softly. Dean does, tilting his head while keeping it firmly against Cas’ chest. Their eyes lock and Dean’s heart leaps. “I love when you stare because it feels like my heart is exploding and my mind is expanding. It feels like how I imagine stars feel when they burst.” 

Dean’s breath catches. He can’t move. He can’t speak. 

“I love to hate your stupid flannels. No one can wear one of those and look good. No one but you.” Cas looks away, breaking the contact before pulling Dean closer, his hand running down Dean’s arm. 

“I love the way you read my mind, when you finish my thoughts, and start my sentences. You know me better than I know myself sometimes. You know what I’m capable of, even when everyone else tells me I can’t. 

“I love you so much, Dean Winchester, for the way I feel. Angels aren’t allowed to feel. I never thought I would experience any emotion. Not happiness, certainly not elation. I didn’t think I would ever feel love, but I do and it’s all thanks to you.”

Cas stops for a moment. He takes a deep breath and Dean can hear his heart beat a tiny bit faster. His next breath is broken. 

“I hate it when you die.” His arms tighten around Dean. “I watched you get dragged to Hell. I fixed it when I was allowed. It got harder after that. I didn’t know that meeting you would make everything so much better, and your deaths so much worse to bear. When Metatron killed you, when you became a demon… It hurt so badly, I could hardly breathe. I didn’t want to keep going. I thought that I couldn’t.”

“I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean whispers. Cas hugs him tighter for a moment. Dean’s entire world is limited to Cas and his enveloping presence. 

“I love choosing you over the angels. It’s an easy decision to make when they mark it clearly to choose between Dean Winchester and all of Heaven. Heaven who watched as you were tortured in Hell until it was too late. Heaven who exiles me like a child on time out. Heaven who tortured and brainwashed me. All of that against the man who calls me a friend, an ally, family. A man with eyes that look like grass in the Springtime and has a laugh that brightens the world. A man who puts everyone else before himself because he’s the man who saves people and hunts things. I think, no matter how ‘fucked up’ a guy he is, he’s a great one.”

Cas finds one of Dean’s hands and slowly laces his fingers with Dean’s. 

“I love when I show up after being gone for a while and you already know that it’s me, your eyes finding mine in the rearview mirror. I love when I show up and you jump. I love when I’ve been gone for a while and when I come back, I can tell that I’ve been missed. 

“I love when you pray to me instead of calling my cellphone. I remember a time before you prayed. I remember the first night you prayed and it was the loudest, clearest voice I had ever heard. It still is. When you pray, it might as well be my own thoughts. I also love when you call my phone because you set a new ringtone for yourself every time you get a chance. No one else has been pretending to be an FBI agent when their phone starts playing the Batman theme song.

“But, Dean,” Cas pulls away enough to look at Dean. His eyes shine and his voice is soft as he whispers, “I love the way that I’m entirely in love with you. Just a little bit, or maybe a lot. Head over heels, completely in love.” 

Dean finally reaches forward to cup his jaw and lean in, pressing his lips to Cas’. Cas kisses back immediately, a gentle kiss making promises and starting something new. 

@ain-t-bovvered @soloarcana @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @kingofmyimagination @fandom-is-my-middle-name @samatedeansbroccoli @anarchiana @lils2024 @destiel-honeypie @spn-bitchh @awkward-penguin-in-a-trenchcoat @skittles-rainbow-cat @k-lewis @destielhoneybee @castibella-shipper-of-the-lord @aestheticallydyke @righteouscomeuppancejogstheliver @deanwinchesterswitch @adventurous-blob @iamcharliebradburylevelperfect @royalrowena @telefunkies @blueeyesandpie @jemariel

[mikhailoist]

the things we left unsaid

Rowena’s death plays in his mind like a recording on repeat. She holds onto him, drawing him closer to her while his hand rests on the blade that presses against her stomach. He wants to pull away, toss that damned thing to the floor because they don’t need it — Rowena doesn’t need to die. (But she does.) She asks him that question, the one he’s still hearing hours later. The one he should’ve answered yes to.

“Will you let the world die, let your brother die, just so I can live?”

She knew that would be the only way to get through to him. Of course she did. That sneaky witch knew Sam better than almost anyone (even better than Dean, in some ways); she knew that Sam didn’t have it within him to let the world crumble beneath the weight of another apocalypse. That’s not who he is. It never has been. So if it was Rowena or the world, or Cas or the world, or anyone else or the world, it would always be in Sam’s blood to choose the world, every single time.

But now, as he squeezes his eyelids shut and sees the blood spreading across Rowena’s middle, sees her stepping over Hell’s edge while carrying the weight of a billion souls, Sam wonders why he couldn’t just have both.

He lowers his face into a pair of trembling hands. There are tears brimming at his eyelids — not the first wave of tears today, and he’s sure it won’t be the last. He presses the heels of his palms against his eyes, desperate to erase the memory from his mind. All that blood. The tear in the earth, slowly closing up over the fiery pit that swallowed Rowena whole. ”That’s my boy.”

“Sam.” Dean appears in the doorway of Sam’s bedroom, startling the younger brother. He lowers his hands into his lap and looks up, not bothering to hide his broken expression. Dean’s seen him worse for wear countless times, anyway.

“You okay?” the elder asks. He asked him the same question about an hour ago, when he came in here and attempted to give the routine you had no choice, at least we saved the world speech. Sam’s grateful for the gesture, he is, but he doesn’t want to hear it right now. He doesn’t want to think about how they saved the world yet again — and this time, it wasn’t their doing, anyways. It was Rowena. She’s the one who died to save them — to save the world.

“Where’s Cas?” Sam asks, because he really doesn’t want to talk about Rowena right now. Not with Dean, not with anyone.

(He doesn’t want to talk about it because that would make her death real, and he doesn’t want it to be real yet. He just wants her here.)

“Gone,” is Dean’s vague answer. There’s a trace of venom in his voice, along with something else Sam can’t quite put his finger on. Dean’s doing a pretty good job at masking his feelings for Sam’s sake. He’ll give him credit for that.

“What do you mean gone?” Sam asks.

“Needs a break, I guess. You want something to drink?” Dean’s sudden eagerness to change the subject doesn’t go unnoticed by Sam. He knows something much bigger is going on between Dean and Cas (hell, you can just sense it when you stand beside the two of them), but if he’s being totally honest, he doesn’t give two shits right now. That’s Dean’s mess to clean up, and right now — well, right now, Sam’s got some problems of his own.

(He doesn’t say a word about it to Dean, but a sharp pain runs through his shoulder. The aches come and go, brought on by the Equalizer wound, no doubt. He barely gives it a second thought, however, not when the events of earlier are still the freshest wound he bears.)

“I’m okay,” Sam says. “I think I’ll probably just get some shut-eye.”

“Okay.” Dean turns to leave, but not without sparing one more concerned glance at his little brother. “If you need anything, let me know.”

“Yeah.” Sam nods weakly. “I will.”

Dean leaves, and Sam falls back onto his mattress, the back of his head roughly hitting his pillow. He doesn’t have much energy left, so he falls asleep in his flannel and jeans, though it takes him a while. And even as unconsciousness wraps him up like a pitch, dark blanket, he still can’t shake the memory of a certain red-haired witch.

I’m sorry, Rowena, he thinks, as the tears dry on his face. I’m so, so sorry.

-

The pain only gets worse. Not just the pain of losing Rowena, but the pain in his shoulder, too.

He starts to avoid Dean, if only just a little bit. He tries not to make it too obvious that he’s hiding from his older brother, but he just doesn’t want him to worry. What used to be an injury that acted up once or twice a day now has him in constant agony, and sometimes, he needs to find a way to be alone so he can just cry, because it hurts so fucking much. He’s never felt anything like it. He’s been shot before — too many times to count, really — but for some reason, this is different. He supposes the wound was caused by a terribly angry, all-powerful villain, and maybe that’s why it doesn’t seem to be getting any better. The bullet was crafted by magic, but not just any magic — dark, evil magic that was meant to kill Jack, one of the only people Sam knew who could have rivaled Chuck.

But now, Jack’s gone, Rowena is still gone, and Sam is in so much pain he can barely breathe.

He makes up an excuse for Dean to get out of the bunker — “I’m hungry, can you get us some pizza?” — and barely takes notice of Dean’s disgruntled expression as the older brother walks out. As soon as he hears the door slam shut, Sam lets out the agonized gasp he’d been holding in for nearly an hour. He makes a beeline for the bathroom while his hands fumble with the buttons on his shirt. Once he reaches the mirror, he pushes the unbuttoned shirt down past his arms and recoils at the sight of his shoulder reflected by the glass.

The wound definitely looks infected. The hole where the bullet broke past his skin has turned a shade of deep red — like the color of blood, but darker. Thin lines of crimson extend from the wound and travel across his skin like spiderwebs, nearly coating his entire shoulder.

It’s nothing like he’s ever seen before, and it terrifies him.

Sam reaches up with one hand to gingerly touch his shoulder, but the moment skin meets skin, he’s overwhelmed with a pain that seems to set his body on fire. He doesn’t remember much of what happens during those next few seconds — he thinks he might have blacked out — but he knows for certain that touching the wound was like pulling a trigger. The second his hand makes contact, a gate in his mind busts open and he’s flooded with flashbacks of trauma, memories he’s tried his hardest to bury for years. He sees himself drinking demon blood. He sees a man in a crisp, white suit — a man he knows is not him, but gleefully wears his body. He sees Dean dying, he sees Cas and Jack dying, and—

There she is again.

”Goodbye, boys.”

Sam wakes up with a gasp on the floor of the bathroom. He’s not sure how he ended up on the ground, or even how long he was unconscious for, but he’s lucky enough Dean hasn’t come home yet. He sits up, pressing his back against the wall and pulling his knees to his chest. He can’t control the flow of tears that overtakes him once again, nor can he put a stop to the panic that wrecks his body.

He just feels so guilty.

He never wanted Rowena to die. That was never a part of the plan. It all happened so fast — the original spell didn’t work out, and all of a sudden Rowena was carving her last resurrection seal out of her shoulder and placing a blade in Sam’s hand.

”It has to be you that kills me.”

She never should have died. It was never supposed to happen. Not like that.

And now, she’s all Sam can think about. The blood on her dress. All the souls from Hell pouring into her body, like she was nothing but a vessel that they would discard as soon as the crack in the earth closed up. (Which is surely what had happened — Rowena had said her body would crumble under the weight of the souls until nothing remained.)

But her death is not the only thing Sam remembers.

He winces as a new kind of pain blossoms in his chest, his heart longing for the bond he shared with the witch and all the things they left unsaid.

—

“Samuel,” she whispered. “Are you awake?”

He rolled over on his side, his eyes adjusting to the dark room. As he squinted against the shadows, he could just make out Rowena’s head of scarlet hair, along with the lipstick smudged around the edges of her smile.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m awake.”

“You were pretty good at that,” Rowena commented, reaching over to trace a finger across Sam’s bare chest. He smiled a little sheepishly, his cheeks turning warm.

“You were better.”

“Can’t argue with you there, my boy,” she teased. “Maybe I ‘ought to teach you a thing or two.”

Sam fell quiet. As much as he wanted to capture Rowena’s lips in another kiss and go for a round two, something stopped him. It was like the blood in his veins froze, chilled by a fear he was sure he had kept locked away for years.

“Sam?” Rowena’s voice softened as soon as she realized something was wrong. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Yeah, I… I’m just—” He stopped with a frustrated sigh, because the words rested on the tip of his tongue and he just didn’t want to let them fall. He rolled over onto his back, glueing his eyes to the cracks in the ceiling.

Unfortunately for him, Rowena seemed to have the ability to read his mind. (Though he truly wouldn’t have been surprised if that was actually one of her powers, knowing her.)

“You think this should be a one time thing.”

Sam looked over at her. He could make out the expression on her face now, his eyes well adjusted to the darkness of midnight in the bunker. She didn’t look hurt or offended, which is what Sam might have expected, had the woman lying next to him been someone else. Rather, she looked understanding. Like she knew what was on his mind, and she saw it coming from a mile away.

“Everyone I’ve ever been with,” Sam said. “It hasn’t… it never ends well.”

“I’m not afraid of what might happen, Samuel,” Rowena replied. “Fate has already decided that you’ll be my undoing, hasn’t it?”

“Stop.” He turned his head away. “Can we… can we not talk about that? Please, I just…” His voice trailed off, the sudden whirlwind of emotions rendering him speechless. He couldn’t think about losing Rowena. Not right now. Not when they lay side-by-side, tangled up in his bed sheets, sweat drying on their skin. He could still taste her on his lips, and he craved more of it, but not just the sex. He craved the connection he felt with the witch. He craved the bond they shared, a bond he was sure he’d never shared with anyone else before.

He craved that feeling of their hearts intertwining, their bodies becoming one — like it was always meant to be this way.

But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t let himself fall in love again.

(Because everyone he fell in love with always died,

and if Rowena was fated to die at his hands?

Well, that made it even worse.)

“I’m not afraid of you, Sam,” Rowena whispered. She shifted her body closer to his, tentatively placing her head against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him. She was so small, so gentle, and yet at the same time, she was the only thing capable of setting his soul on fire. She was insufferable at times, with her snarky comments and witty remarks. She was playful grins and pure magic and stolen kisses at midnight, and here she was, relentless, wanting him as much as he wanted her.

Neither of them would ever admit it (if only they had, because just a few weeks later, she would be gone) — but they cared for each other, deeply. They wanted to love each other.

If Sam was capable of letting his walls down, and if Rowena realized that love was more than weakness, then maybe, just maybe, they would have.

—

Sam thinks he might be going crazy.

He decides to go out for a walk one evening, get some fresh air. Dean took a case in Sioux Falls with Jody — a little vampire issue, nothing too serious. He wanted Sam to tag along, but it’s been less than a week since Rowena died, and Sam doesn’t cope with tragedy the same way Dean does. While his brother lets off steam by chopping off vampire heads with a machete, Sam thinks a better way to heal might be to walk around town for a bit, maybe stop by a café for a late night cup of joe. He wants to take his mind off Rowena somehow, and killing monsters — seeing all that blood — he’ll just start seeing the blood that stained his hands after…

Stop, he thinks. He’s sitting at a booth in a tiny coffee shop, empty save for an awkward teenage couple getting to know each other over some iced lattes. Feeling suddenly restless, he grabs his coffee and high-tails it out of there, desperate to find something else to focus his attention on. Anything to get those memories out of his mind.

He rounds a corner and finds himself in an alleyway. He heaves a sigh, leaning against the brick wall. He can feel beads of sweat forming on his face and neck, and he tries to steady his breathing, tries not to think about it, about her.

The panic subsides after a few moments, maybe a few minutes, Sam isn’t really sure. When it passes, he straightens up and inhales deeply. He settles his gaze on Lebanon’s sunset, watching as the sun disappears from the sky and the clouds overhead are washed out with a shade of deep, dark blue. It’s a nice night, the air is clean, a cool breeze ruffles Sam’s hair and he thinks he’ll be okay. He will. He takes another deep breath before bringing his coffee to his lips.

“Samuel.”

The styrofoam cup slips out of his hand and hits his feet. Coffee splatters across his shoes, but Sam doesn’t care — because he heard her — it was her.

He heard Rowena’s voice, clear as day. It sounded like she was standing right next to him. But when he spins around to find her, he finds himself alone in the alleyway, and it hits him — she’s not there. She’s dead.

“Samuel, it’s me.”

Sam grabs onto the sides of his head, his nails digging into his scalp. Her voice, it sounds so real — but it’s just in his head. She’s not here. She’s dead. This isn’t real.

“Help me, Sam.”

“Stop,” Sam mutters. “Please, please, just stop. This isn’t real. This isn’t real.”

The more he says those three words to himself, the quicker Rowena’s voice seems to fade. He can’t seem to breathe, his throat feels tight with the tears that threaten their arrival — but she’s not here. He’s not sure if that makes him feel better or worse, but he doesn’t want to stick around here to find out. He should sleep, or call up Dean and check on how the hunt is going. Maybe he’ll text Cas — he hasn’t heard from the angel in a while, and Dean still hasn’t told him where he went — but Sam just needs a dose of reality.

Rowena’s voice? Not real. Not real. She’s dead.

(The pain that lights up his shoulders as Sam hurries home, leaving the discarded coffee cup behind?

Definitely real.)

—

Hearing her voice is only the beginning.

At first, he hears her every once in a while throughout the day. It starts out as a whisper, a breathy voice right by his ear — quiet, but clear enough that he knows it’s her. She’s usually just saying his name, asking him for help, wondering if he’s there. He knows it’s not real, though. It’s just some sort of fucked up way for his mind to relive the trauma of losing her. People see and hear the people they care about everywhere after they die.

(That’s what he told himself when Bobby died, and days later, Bobby showed up as a ghost.

But there’s no way Rowena’s a ghost.

He watched her fall into Hell — he saw the ground close up over her body.)

He tries to tune out her voice, but what starts out as a brief whisper turns into a daily struggle. He’s hearing her when he wakes up and when he goes to sleep. He hears her when he and Dean have burgers for lunch, or share a drink at the map table.

She’s still calling out to him when Sam forces himself to go on a hunt with Dean. It’s just a ghost thing, easy enough — but Sam’s so fucking sloppy and nearly gets himself and Dean killed because he just can’t get Rowena’s voice out of his head.

Dean’s worried about him. Sam can tell his brother is starting to notice that this is more than just grief. It’s getting to his head in a way that could be dangerous for the both of them.

But Sam doesn’t want to tell him.

(Because then he’ll have to admit that he’s losing his mind.)

And there’s something else, something that scares him a little more than the witch’s voice engraved in his brain. It’s the fact that his shoulder is in constant pain now, and the infection is starting to inch its way down his arm. Of course, Dean doesn’t know about this, because Sam keeps his arms hidden under layers of flannel. It’s okay — it’s not a big deal. It’s just a wound; it’ll heal. He doesn’t want Dean to worry more than he already is, about Cas, or about the fact that Chuck was in control of their lives this entire time and Sam doesn’t know how to tell Dean otherwise.

The wound seems to be more than just a wound, though. Sam isn’t just hearing voices anymore — he’s seeing things, too. He’ll look in the mirror and see himself dressed in white. He blinks and he’s back to normal, but he can’t shake the feeling that maybe — just maybe — that reflection was real.

Maybe the wound is trying to tell him something.

He sees the Mark of Cain show up on Dean’s forearm. He knows it’s not there, because they got that thing off years ago, but maybe it is there. Or it will be. Sam’s not really sure anymore.

And when he goes to sleep and sees himself, with black eyes, snapping his brother’s neck with a tilt of his head—

He knows it’s not real.

(Or does he?

It feels real.)

And yet, all of this — these images in his mind, the hallucinations that flash across his gaze for a fraction of a second, all accompanied with the pain in his shoulder — none of them prepare him for what he sees in his room at midnight, exactly two weeks following Rowena’s death.

He sits on the edge of his bed, his shirt heavy with sweat. He’s pretty sure Dean’s asleep and won’t barge in unannounced like he tends to do sometimes, so he peels the shirt off and tosses it to the floor. He cranes his head towards his shoulder, which is now nearly blackened, akin to a nasty bruise. He drops his head back, his face turned towards the ceiling. It’s hard to breathe through the pain — it’s worse tonight, a lot worse — but he tries. Inhale, exhale.

“Samuel.”

“No.” Sam squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. “You’re not real.”

A hand rests against his, and Sam nearly jumps off the bed. He opens his eyes and whips his head around, and there she is — real and alive, sitting beside him on the mattress. There’s not a trace of death on her, no sign that she ever sacrificed herself to save the world. She greets him with a glowing smile, her eyes sparkling at him under lids coated with eyeshadow. Her hair is down, and it bounces off her shoulders like waves of fire. She’s so beautiful and she’s here.

“Rowena?” he whispers.

“That’s right,” she says. “I’m here, Sam.”

He should tell himself it isn’t real. He knows it isn’t, but right now, all he wants to do is shove that thought to the back of his mind. He wraps his arms around Rowena and pulls her to his chest. He can touch her, and she feels warm, which means there’s blood running through her veins, which means she’s alive.

“How…” Sam pulls away, but he keeps his hands on Rowena’s arms, desperate not to let go of her again. “How are you here?”

“Sam.” Rowena’s eyes soften. She reaches up and cups the side of his face with a gentle hand. She smiles at him, but her smile looks sad, so sad, and Sam’s heart drops.

It’s just another hallucination.

“You’re really dead,” Sam says. “Aren’t you?”

Rowena nods slowly. Sam drops his hands away from her arms and places them blindly on the mattress, unsure of what to do next. He’s not even sure what to think, because of course she’s not real, but she is. She’s here. He can feel her.

Why isn’t she real?

It’s not fair.

“Why…” Sam shakes his head. He doesn’t even try to stop the tears — he just lets them come. “Why is this happening to me?”

Rowena moves her hand away from his face and rests her palm against his wound. It’s the gentlest of touches, and Sam doesn’t even flinch. He’s just aware of her touch, and it fucks with his mind, because she’s here and she’s not, all at the same time.

“That’s some magic you’ve got running through your veins,” she says.

Sam looks at her. The tears have begun to cloud his vision, but he can still make out her expression. It’s one of curiosity. She’s intrigued. Careful not to put too much pressure on the wound, she moves her body towards Sam, peering down at his shoulder to get a closer look.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Sam says. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

“I might have an idea.” Rowena looks back up at him. Her hands return to his face, and she brings their foreheads together with care. “I can help you, Samuel.”

“How?” Sam asks, his voice breaking. “You’re dead.”

“My body may be dead,” Rowena says, lowering her hands. “But my soul is very much alive.”

Sam pulls his head away to stare at her, bewildered. “What are you saying?”

“Samuel, this wound of yours — it’s defying all the laws of magic. I can feel its power all the way down here in Hell. It’s raw and untamed, and so strong.”

“You mean—” Sam protectively reaches for her hand, locking their fingers together. “You’re in Hell right now?”

As soon as the question slips past his lips, he knows how stupid it sounds.

Of course she’s in Hell.

She stepped over the edge to Hell, carrying the weight of every single damned soul to return to Hell. She’s in the worst place imaginable, a victim of endless torture — and yet, somehow she’s here too, safe, with Sam.

“I am,” Rowena says. “But something about this wound of yours has allowed me to come and speak with you. Like I said, it’s defying all the laws of magic. I can’t quite comprehend its power, but I can feel it opening gateways to other dimensions, doors to the past and to the future.”

Sam thinks back to everything he’s been seeing over the past couple of weeks, and it starts to make sense.

“I saw Dean with the Mark of Cain, even though we got rid of it years ago,” Sam says. “I saw… I saw myself, but it wasn’t me — it was Lucifer wearing my body. That happened years ago, too.”

“Sam.” Rowena gives his hand a squeeze. “I think Chuck may be planning something awful, and I have reason to believe the wound on your shoulder is trying to warn you about it.”

Together, they glance at his shoulder. For the first time in weeks, he’s able to silence the pain and notice something else instead.

He feels it.

There is magic running through his veins.

“What do I do, Rowena?” he asks, panic rising in his voice.

“I can help you,” she says. “I can teach you how to control it, understand what it all means. But I can’t do it from down here, Sam.”

“I’ll get you out,” Sam says. “There has to be a way.”

Rowena smiles. She lifts their still intertwined hands to her lips and places a warm kiss to the top of Sam’s knuckles.

“That’s my boy,” she whispers.

Sam can’t help himself. He’s overcome with too much emotion to handle — fear, confusion, love. So screw it — maybe it’s not real, maybe it’s a hallucination, or maybe Rowena is really here, using magic to speak to him from Hell. She sounds real, she feels real. And when he impulsively presses his lips against hers, kissing her like it’s the only thing he was made to do, he knows in his heart that she is real.

She kisses him back with reckless abandon, letting go of his hand so she can link her arms around his neck. Sam relishes in every moment, feeling her, loving her, because he never got to do it until it was too late.

“Rowena,” he mutters into the kiss. “I love you.”

“I know, Samuel,” she says.

She breaks the kiss, and Sam wonders why, until he sees that she’s fading. Her body is disappearing into oblivion, piece by piece, but that smile never leaves her face.

“I’ll come and get you,” Sam promises. “I will.”

The smile on Rowena’s face grows even wider, and there’s a knowing glint in her eye.

“I wouldn’t doubt it for a second.”

He blinks and she’s gone, but so is Sam’s fear. His shoulder hurts again, but he’s now completely aware of the magic coursing through his entire body. Rowena was right — it’s raw, untamed power, and he feels stronger now that he knows what the magic is trying to tell him.

“Thank you, Rowena,” he says to the empty room.

With a clear mind, Sam can start to formulate a plan. Rescue Rowena from Hell, somehow (it’s not impossible, he’s pulled off crazier feats before), and figure out what exactly this wound is trying to tell him. He should tell Dean. Now that he’s got it figured out, telling Dean doesn’t seem so scary anymore.

Before he stands up from the bed, Sam lifts a finger to his lips. He can still feel the aftermath of a very real kiss, and taste the lip gloss of a very real witch.

Despite all the words left unsaid, Sam is grateful he had a chance to see her again and tell her the only thing that matters—

—that he loves her, and he always will.

(And it won’t be the last time he says it, because he will see her again.)

[jjkpls]

The Scamps (m) (Harry Potter!AU #3)

> genre : smut, some sort of fluff i guess idk

> pairing : min yoongi x reader

> words : 3.3k

> warning : bad bad language, spanking, derogatory terms

> Min Yoongi (Slytherin, 6th yr) Children behave That's what they say when we're together And watch how you play They don't understand

/The Harry Potter!AU Masterlist/

"Could you tell me of what use chizpurfles can be ?"

"No." Silence overtakes the room. The majority of the class is not really surprised by the answer Yoongi gave, or even by the insolence his indifference transpires. But the new Professor of Potions, Professor Delaney-Podmore, has obviously not been briefed about Yoongi's character.

"You ca-can't?" Professor Delaney-Podmore blinks hard behind his thin glasses. There are droplets of sweat visibly slipping along the side of his forehead. Yoongi is not moved though.

"No."

"What a fucking idiot..." The Professor turns around so fast, you'd think he's standing on a spinning wheel. He stares gravely at you, eyes threatening to fall out of their sockets, break his lenses and roll on the ground.

"I'm sorry, Miss-"

"Cause you know?" Yoongi asks, attention driven now to you with an animation glinting in the gaze. Even his voice seems to finally come alive; you can hear the harshness and the coldness shading his tone.

"Well, I'm not the one who's been asked to answer, am I?" You singsong with a nasty side grin. Your head, chin stuck in your palm, tilts to the side, eyebrows raised high in mock wondering.

"Then why don't you just shut the hell up?" He is fired up now. You can tell by the little shrug his head does, ever so slightly, as he glares intensely at you. Everybody is watching the scene unfold with terrified excitement. They love to see those outbreaks you two have quite often since it's a great source of entertainment. That being said, they're never too comfortable as if scared that the tickling bombs you two are might, unexpectedly, burst in one of their faces.

"I'm sorry if I can't stand you making me waste my precious time by being a fucking moron."

"MISS!" Professor Delaney-Podmore finally explodes, all attention fixating on him. His face red and look haggard, the young man is visibly trembling. "This behaviour is unacceptable. I-I demand you to stop now or you'll have to leave my class." You don't really flinch under his gaze. He looks too unsure. If Yoongi can't get you to shudder, probably no one can. You know to be reasonable though. Especially since your goal has been accomplished -you've wakened up the old man. Therefore, you simply shrug and keep your mouth shut, your eyes following Yoongi's small form sauntering through the classroom, back to the seat behind yours.

"Shut the fuck up." Yoongi mumbles before you can even open your mouth, loud enough for you to hear but discreet enough so that the whole class and Delaney-Podmore don't divert their focus back on you two.

"Dickhead."

Taehyung, eyebrows frown, observes Yoongi smirking contently to himself. He opens his mouth, wanting to say something, to ask a question, to just express his confusion but the words just won't come out. He has a lot of questions. He is not the only one having noticed this bizarre animosity constantly animating your interactions. But he knows he'll probably won't get anything concrete from Yoongi so he just decides to give up -the nasty side glance the interested threw his way helping for the decision.

A loud smack, a body slumping on a messy humid bed, and a dark ominous chuckle. Yoongi shakes his head in disbelief. There is only you, the ever unable-to-crack-a-smile-embittered bitch, to be laughing your head off when you're getting your ass spanked hard.

"You're not going to apologize?" His voice hardly raises at the end. He already knows the answer. And you already know that he knows so you just chuckle some more, shaking your panties-covered ass in front of his unwavering gaze. He grabs severely your hips to keep you still and without a warning, strike a couple of blows, first on the left cheek and once he finds the perfect red shade he likes, proceeds to move on and offer the same treatment to the other one. He doesn't slow down, doesn't soften down even when he can hear your whimpers getting higher and broken. He knows how far he can take you. "You really were a pain today."

"When am I not?" He hums knowingly. You are indeed a pain in the ass. That's actually the reason why he can deal with you since he's the same.

"Do you wanna cum?" You nod your head, mumbling an approval in the pillow. "Do bitches get to cum?" Yoongi asks, voice slow and pensive as if he's wondering out loud a serious existential question. You're quick to answer that yes, they do! but he is still languid, unhurried, as his hands pet your red cheeks. "I'm pretty sure they don't, ___."

"They do, Yoongi. Make me cum."

"Is that an order?" There is an unmissable edge to his voice. Do you want me to be meaner? he is asking. You don't really care though. You're not sure what your games during daylight are, but if anything they are probably foreplay. You hate teasing and you don't need him to take his time. You hate him taking his time especially when you've been ready for him for hours already.

"Yoongi, I'm bored. Make me cum, now."

And it's weird that you don't find it suspicious, but when Yoongi crawls behind you on the bed, mouth attaching greedily to your flesh, all you do is grin in the pillows, self complimenting yourself internally for what you think is a new win over him. You know what it means when he is hungrily licking and biting and scratching with his teeth, his large veiny hands meddling with everything his mouth can't take care of -your asscheeks, your thighs, your hips, your breast. There is one difference that should have, maybe, been a hint to you, the stinging of his ministration upon the already over abused skin of your ass. He's been meaner during the spanking, he'll be meaner with the rest. The thought may have occurred at some point, but the feeling of his hot breath hitting your now exposed centre empties your mind of any sort of preoccupation. It's just his expert mouth standing just a few centimetres away from the place you want him the most.

"Please." It's totally unexpected and so quiet, you hope he's missed it. But of course, he doesn't. As much of an old man Yoongi usually is, when he's with you, he's all alert.

"It's been so long, I forgot how much I love having you beg for me."

"Shut the fu-" You start, highly annoyed by the smugness dripping from his voice, not paying much attention to how you couldn't feel his breath hitting your skin when he was talking. There's a very short instant of heavy silence dominating the room, where you just stand there, on all four, exposed ass hanging high in the air awaiting; then the door to your room slams shut. That fucking asshole. Of course, he'd be that fucking mean.

There is an awkward silence hanging between the little circle of acquaintances. You don't seem too fazed. Nor does Yoongi. But Jimin and your best friend are looking between you two and themselves, eyes wide, and perspiration almost shining on their foreheads. They know this conversation can only go wrong. They've never -no one has ever- witnessed a normal, civil conversation take place between you two. It's always shouts, and insults, and ominous glares and even wand threatenings at times. But that's your usual, casual encounters.

Today is not a usual encounter. You walked in, with a weirdly jumpy step, sat right in front of Yoongi who was "hanging out" -meaning, he's just sat there next to his friends, not feigning listening or taking part in any way in the conversation happening- with the two other Slytherins, and proceeded to announce that you've found a date for the party that Hogwarts will be hosting in a week, even though nobody asked. Jimin is sure that Yoongi will be the first to point this detail out but strangely enough, he remains quiet. Gaze hardly focused on you.

"That's great, ___! Who is it? Do we know him?" Your best friend asks.

"He's the Seeker of Ravenclaw's team."

"Ravenclaw?"

"He's very tall and muscular. Very hot." Yoongi can feel his blood boil. It's not so much what you're saying. You're choosing your words thoughtfully. Yoongi is a tiny little thing compared to most guys, he knows that. And quite frankly he doesn't give a single fuck since, as testifies your always sneaking in his pants, it doesn't injure his sex-appeal in any way. He feels anger because that's the natural reaction he has to you, in every daily circumstance, and because he knows you're trying to annoy him. You're always trying to mess with him.  "Are you going, Min Yoongi?"

"You know I'm not."

"Are you sad because no one wants to go with you? I'm sorry Min Yoongi, maybe try being a little less of a dickhead."

"And I'll try wearing my uniform skirt like a crop top too, as sluts do. That surely will get me a date, wouldn't it?"

"I don't know what sluts do, Min Yoongi."

At each pronunciation of his full name, said with this insufferable patronizing tone, it becomes harder for him to refrain himself from grabbing you by the hair, uncover your ass and spank you right here, in the middle of the common room; he'd do it until you've cried so much your whole shirt would be soaked in tears.

For now, the common room is filled with an uncomfortable atmosphere. Yoongi, not that he cares, has noticed a few younger kids leaving abruptly when you two started talking. The ones that decided to stay, have retreated in the corner and as if in fear to interrupt, started to whisper their conversations.

"Anyways" There is an awkward cough before your best friend starts again, obviously attempting to divert the conversation and diffuse the tension. "Jiminie, you're bringing your girlfriend?"

"Yes. It'd be our first ball together, I'm really excited!" He is all smiles and starry eyes, nodding his head with enthusiasm. He's so grateful both for the question itself, and for the brave attempt she is making.

"Oh yeah, the squib!" Jimin's jaw goes slack as Yoongi stares straight at you; waiting for what you're going to say with obvious interest. He wouldn't admit it but it would tickle him unpleasantly if you were to start insulting one of his very only friends. From the bright, carnivorous-like smirk adorning your red lips, he can tell you know. "Hasn't she been kicked out yet? Or at least, hasn't she quit? I mean if I were her, I would have quit fucking ages ago. She's embarrassing herself in every fucking class."

"Why are you pretending not to know, you're sharing half of your classes with her."

"Am I talking to you Min Yoongi?" You give him the darkest look. He isn't moved, simply stares back at you awaiting.  "Now that I think about it, you're luckier than this guy, Jimin. Even if she's a squib, at least you have someone."

"You think you do?" He is quick to answer, nonchalance becoming harder to keep up now. You can see the corner of his lip twitch slightly.

"I do, old man. I've just told you about it."

"Well, now that's just sad if you think he's in for anything else than your ass."

"I'm pretty sure he wouldn't mind having my pussy too."

"___!!" Your best friend yells, getting up from her chair, ready to grab your arm to drag you out. You'd think she'd be used to your antics by now but the poor girl is so red in the face. You don't let her move you though, the bickering is not over. After being such a dick last time, you just want to piss him off for real. It's pretty nice having little to no sense of shame or embarrassment when dealing with this guy.

"You're so gross." Yoongi mumbles, shaking his head in faux disbelief.

"And so are you. You're just bitter because I'm still hot enough to get laid but you're not."

"I'm bitter? Over what? Not being a whore?" He sniggers. "I'm perfectly fine knowing my dick won't fall off at some point from overexposing it to all the trash your cunt plays with."

"Dicks and vaginas don't just fall off, moron. But how would you know?" You're back with the patronizing, oh-silly-little-thing-let-me-teach-you-life type of voice and you can see, visibly, the annoyance reaching its peak on Yoongi's neck vein.

Only the arrival of an impatient prefect can finally bring a semblance of peace in the room. He tells you guys that you're being a nuisance to everybody in the common room and that you need to either shut the hell up or just leave if you want to keep arguing. There's a tense silence hanging after his impromptu intervention. Everyone is wondering if the two tickling bombs will burst now at this brave but innocent prefect face. Yoongi is the one making the decision for the both of you. After a while of pondering the question over in his mind, menacing eyes staring right back at yours, he decides to leave the chair and slowly, saunters to his dorm room.

"You don't deserve kisses, ___." He whispers, turning his head away for your eager mouth to meet his cheek. You smirk, tend your neck to try again to catch his red lips between yours but his arms push himself further away, making himself completely unattainable. His hips have slowed down too. He's looking down at you but his eyes don't meet yours. You frown, deeply annoyed.

"You're too touchy."

"Am I?" Yoongi asks simply. His tone sounds calm and collected. Too calm for it not to be frightening. He actually sounds ominous as hell. He slows down to a complete halt and drags himself out of your warmth, ignoring your protests. "Ride me." Eager to keep going, ignoring his bad mood, you jump on your new-found seat. "Don't touch yourself." He summons, and when he sees your burning hands tucked knowingly against his stomach, he lazily slips his hands behind his head, closes his eyes, breathing out a long pleased sigh when you start riding him.

He looks quite handsome like that. Traits all relaxed, pearl white skin shimmering slightly under the sunset light coming from the wide-open window, gold-reflecting eyelashes resting softly on his face. You want to kiss his mouth again but know better than try. So instead, to submerge more in the uncommon peacefulness hanging between you, you decide to ride him in the most languid fashion. Taking your time to slide up and down his length, deeply, to build it up for the grand final when you'll do it the way you two love to cum to.

The thing is, Yoongi, as too often, has a hidden agenda. Not long after you've started, you see the line of his eyebrows dip down slightly in the middle, and then a low groan erupts from the very back of his throat as you feel his cock twitch in you.

"No- you- did you really-?" He opens his eyelids on brown irises shining with mischief. Of course he did, Yoongi's assholeness is a never-ending pit filled to the brim with fucking annoying tricks all able to piss you off more than the last one. Yoongi is the only dude you've known that wouldn't mind looking like a premature ejaculator just to irk you.

"'Hope you have a good time at the ball." He has the audacity to add, whilst he not so gently makes you roll off of his body and into the mattress. You could say something, ask for him to stay or just insult him but it would feed his evil contentment and you just resolve on swallowing down the anger.

"I mean it's complicated."

"What is?" Taehyung sighs deeply, bending over the small stone wall, arms dangling in the air like two flabby defeated creatures. Yoongi simply watches him. It's quite unusual to find him in this mood. All defeatist and low-energized.

"It's Jimin. And she's really in love with him. I wouldn't mind if it were anyone else but Jimin is kind of..." Yoongi doesn't say anything. He stares blankly at his friend, which quite frankly is way more dedication than he is used to receiving from him. Therefore, he elaborates. "Isn't he the perfect guy?"

"Hm." Yoongi nods evasively. Yes indeed, Jimin is quite good in his own kind. But he doesn't feel like not being him means they're doomed.

Taehyung, tired of the lack of active responses, straightens up and glares, a new sort of energy found."I don't even know why I'm talking with you, what do you know?"

"You came to me." Yoongi groans, jaws tight and fists twitching from his effort put in not being rude to his friend. They say he's an asshole but they don't realize how hard it is on him dealing with all those problematic cases.

They really don't see it, Yoongi is assured, when Taehyung keeps talking, completely ignoring him, it seems. "Seriously. Maybe I should help you more than you should help me."

"I don't need any help in that department."

"You flirt like an elementary school kid, Yoongi." He says, eyes rolling all the way up and down, with a little shake of his head.

"What?"

"You know, like those kids that spit on and pull at their crushes' hair to seduce them." Yoongi frowns. It's the first time he hears this shit still Taehyung says it like it's an actual fact admitted by all. He knows people don't really get his friendship with you. He thought they believed you two to be at most enemies, and that you just love bickering with each other for entertainment purposes. He didn't know they thought he was attempting to flirt with you. He is not attempting anything. You're the one begging for him to turn your ass bloody red. He doesn't even have to ask!

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Hm." Taehyung smiles knowingly. He meets his friend's eyes, the ones totally unresponsive to the amusement shining in his. But suddenly, his smile drops when he catches sight of the said witch walking right in their direction, with a suspicious hop in her steps. "Oh shit. I'll see you later."

For a split second, Yoongi considers saying something in your defence. Something about how he is being ridiculous, you're not a fucking troll. But then you're here, you call him a dickhead as you always do and since no one is around anymore, you don't waste a second grabbing his hand between your claws to start dragging him somewhere more private. Yeah, maybe he won't ever say anything in your defence.

Your gaze follows his silhouette as he moves about the room, swiftly tidying up. With the wand he just used to clean up the mess he's made on your thighs, he elevates the dress you wore at the ball, discarding of it in the corner. You smile tiredly, a hand reaching out to touch the burning skin of your neck and bosom. He's been so thoroughly covering up the few hickeys your date had made before him, it makes you giddy inside even if you won't admit it. There's a loud commotion coming from the common room. People are still celebrating, wanting to make the most of tonight, since most will be leaving tomorrow for the winter break.

"Do you mind if I stay for the night?" Yoongi sighs deeply, letting himself fall beside you on the bed. He closes his eyes, toss under the covers for a bit before curling up on himself, ready to sleep. Still awaiting, you kick him in the shin.

"You know you don't have to ask.” You grin. You do know. The kids outside the room are still screaming and laughing hysterically. Yoongi besides you grunts. You consider going out to threaten them to shut the hell up but Yoongi's bed feels so warm and he feels so nice next to you, you decide to just ignore them, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your lips to his shoulder.

[amwritingmeta]

15x09: Keeping the Faith

Oh Berens. My good Lord. Giving us so much to unpack through such wonderful use of narrative threads! The biggest brightest one in this ep is hope. And you know you can’t have hope without having faith, right? Faith in tomorrow and that there’s a future ahead of you, to be sure, but more than that: faith in yourself. 

If you don’t believe you can bring about that tomorrow or that you deserve that future, then there’s not much hope left to be had in much of anything. 

This episode Sam’s faith is dismantled, while Dean’s faith is tested to the breaking point.

Sam’s fears win out and by the end of the episode he loses hope, which is all well and good since it’s a narrative necessity that shows us what Sam needs most: to find a way to stand up to authority (toxic masculinity) the same way his brother does. 

God hasn’t been any type of John mirror for a long time, and especially when it comes to Sam and father figures, and as demonstrated by many a moment this episode and through previous eps, he’s Dean. 

Chuck has always been a strong Dean mirror, to the point of him, this episode, not only being Dean for Sam, but Dean for Dean as well. 

And he’s a Dean mirror showing us how Dean is done with letting his shadow side, the toxic masculinity side, (the angry side that comes out because feelings are weaknesses that will get him and his brother killed) rule him, which is why Dean’s the one to face Chuck, without hesitation -->

--> telling him that he’s getting the story wrong, because Dean’s faith in himself this episode is poke-you-in-the-eye goodness.

As for Dean’s faith being tested to the breaking point, we get him in a situation where Cas is taken from him, where there’s no real hope of actually being able to find him, or save him, and instead of running around blindly or switching off that clock that’s counting down the minutes, in order to simply stay and keep searching, come hell or high water, Dean doesn’t just try to run to the rescue (the way he was about to with Sam at the start of the ep, signalling those codependent patterns that the episode itself is working to highlight), no, instead Dean’s actually acting from a point of focus, collecting himself in spite of the very real fact that he’s running out of time --> 

--> and not allowing his emotions to get the better of him -->

--> but rather using whatever time remains to make sure he doesn’t repeat that pattern of not daring to open himself up, because honesty is hard and scary, especially when it leads straight to being honest with yourself. 

But putting Dean’s choices in the moments leading into the prayer plainly: he’s not being stupid. Demonstrating how Cas’ words hit home.

*gorgeousss*

And so, thanks to this, instead of his faith breaking in two, he leans into that faith, because he’s put in a situation where he’s reminded of it. He’s in a place where faith once kept him alive for an entire year, urging him on, making him try to reach Cas over and over, every night, without fail, even when there was no reply or even any sign that Cas could hear him at all. 

Dean sends that prayer out in fear of it not reaching Cas, but that fear doesn’t blind him into losing faith, because he repeats his hope three times for Cas to hear him. He’s terrified that it’s too late, yes, he is. That fear brings him so far as to take a knee, because he can’t even imagine losing Cas again and again not actually having told Cas what Cas means to him, the way he’s wished, all those other times, that he’d spoken up; again losing Cas to the anger that’s easier than feeling everything, because of the fear that daring to want and getting to have everything is the same as losing it.

Good Things Don’t Last...

Unless you stop believing that they don’t. Unless you face that fear head on and let it go. Move on from it into something new. Into an actual future. And, you know, a long and happy life. 

And because Dean has faith and demonstrates it in ways that he never has before, because he gives himself over to Cas and trusts him implicitly with something that is so personal I doubt Dean has ever really put words to the thoughts on how his anger rules him and he can’t control it, because the idea of not having control is one that Dean has struggled with his entire life, trying to control everyone and everything outside of himself to avoid even glancing at the truth of how little control he has over himself, because of all this, even though he yet again doesn’t speak up to let Cas know that the last thing he wants is for Cas to have to take on the bloody Mark, by the end of the episode, the narrative rewards him for his bravery in speaking the truth with an interception and a need for finding another way.

And, for me, because of Dean’s ever present need for control, watching him submitting so easily to Cas this episode is such a damn thrill, not only because Dean has always been more the foot soldier than the outright general...

(and that’s not saying he’s not a good leader) (but the leader position was pushed on him from such a young age that it’s literally all he knows) (it’s become such an ingrained part of his sense of identity that he never questions it and feels out of place if it’s taken away from him) (but the truth is that he’s always been very good at doing what he’s told) (it’s just that with John, following orders led him into unhealthy coping mechanisms and a topsy-turvy sense of identity) (while following Cas’ lead means only good things) 

...so not only is it a thrill because Dean gets a chance to have all that heavy sense of responsibility lifted, but also there’s the fact that Cas is a commander of the armies of Heaven. 

Cas marched into Hell, for goodness sakes, and while it’s been necessary and understandable that he’s stayed sat in the backseat for this long because of all the hell he’s gone through since Hell, it’s an added thrill to now watch him step into that role again without hesitation, and this time it’s not because he believes he has the power of Heaven at his beck and call, no, it’s because of his belief and trust in his own capabilities. His faith in himself.

He’s come so far in his self-liberation and this attitude, this is an attitude he’s always carried in him and that’s come out in bursts and sparks and he’s always been able to question, cajole and support Dean as needed, but in this episode his attitude is all about him making that choice to leave in order to break free from feeling beholden to Dean, or feeling as if his entire worth is tied up in how Dean relates himself to him and vice versa. 

Cas left in 15x03 in order to prove to himself that he’s done being taken for granted. Especially by himself. He left to boost his sense of trust in himself and here we’re all reaping the rewards of all these good choices and clear self-insights that are propelling his progression.

And my God, he was epic this episode. 

I hope the attitude sticks. 

*brain c r a c k l e*

Speaking of mistrusting yourself: Sam is battling his sense of mistrust in himself this episode, and it’s big time, most strongly underlined in this moment -->

--> when he reacts to Dean standing up to Chuck with relief and gratitude, because he needed Dean’s conviction to act as guide, and I know the brothers switch positions on this attitude and have so been doing throughout the series, but the fact of the matter remains that Sam’s now the one holding onto the codependency for a sense of self in ways that Dean, to my mind, isn’t anymore.

And that’s what Sam’s journey through this episode and his glimpses of Chuck’s future - Chuck’s ending for them - is all about.

Because it isn’t Dean holding onto the Blaze of Glory ending, it’s Sam. It’s Sam with a death wish, pulling Dean with him because how could Dean ever let Sam go and die all by himself? Of course he can’t.

This -->

--> is Sam emotionally manipulating Dean into being his support system, even when Dean has no desire to, and sees no purpose in going on at all. 

And this -->

--> is Sam showing that he knows as much. A moment of hesitation, a moment of considering whether he’s willing to risk Dean’s life as much as his own, and then choosing yes, he’s willing, and this bad choice sealing their fate. The codependency ending up with them as monsters, ie. consumed by their shadow sides. No inner balance to be had. No happy ending.

I find it intriguing that, in Chuck’s vision of the future, Dean doesn’t have a death wish, but there’s no fight left in him either. 

He’s done (the same way he was done in the epicness that is Advanced Thanatology of S13 brilliance) and he states that they’ve lost. Meaning they’ve lost everything. Meaning there’s nothing left to fight for. Because Dean’s broken away from seeing Sam as his begin all, end all, whereas Sam still can’t find his way out of their pattern of behaviour and his own dependency on Dean, and this is the thing, isn’t it?

Because this is what our view of Chuck’s future is underscoring. And to great effect, at that!

The repeat pattern that Chuck created for them, the repeat pattern that is the only way Chuck can see this ending, the repeat pattern that Sam knows and trusts and is having trouble breaking out of, this is the very thing that hopefully (I can’t see how they wouldn’t use it at this point) will bring about Chuck’s defeat. 

Chuck is stuck in seeing the brothers this certain way and he can’t imagine that they’d break out of this pattern and actually make choices that go against the codependent behaviour. That they’d grow out of it and into new and healthy ways of coping. That they’d begin to actually find their own individuality and without losing the love they hold for one another, still find purpose away from one another.

Sam’s mistrust in himself, his doubt that he’d actually be strong enough to withstand corruption this time around, is blinding him from seeing how he can choose a different future for himself. It’s keeping him from stepping up and being wholly defiant, the way Dean demonstrates with Chuck, because Sam is still allowing his fears to rule him.

The one truth Chuck actually speaks that adds proper stakes to the already raised stakes in fighting God: he maintains the balance and if they lock him away or destroy him, the balance will shift and darkness will take over.

This is the truth that, I believe, hits home for Sam, and is meant to, and with Sam in the state he’s in, still relying on Dean to lead, the mere idea of losing Eileen, and Dean losing Cas, presents too great a risk if Sam goes through with Dean and Cas’ plan, and it’s brilliant and narratively necessary and gorgeously built up to, because in losing hope Sam not only ups the ante in terms of threat as God is released, he brings about the moment when it’s time for Jack to return and he stops Cas from, yet again, willingly sacrificing himself, which, if he had been allowed to, would’ve only served to ensure he was sticking to old patterns within his individual arc, as well as his well-worn pattern with Dean and their joint arc, where, whenever Dean has opened up, or begun to, Cas has in some way or other disappeared from his closer vicinity.

Pattern at least beginning to be broken. *fingers crossed that it sticks*

And what Sam’s fear isn’t allowing him to see is the fact that Chuck’s truth isn’t The Truth. It’s not the only way something will begin or end, because they’ve already proven this, by moving away from the ending Chuck had set up for them in S13. 

There is always another way. A better one. 

It’s time.

[postmodernmulticoloredcloak]

Rocky’s Bar and Dean’s split self

I’m still intrigued by Dabb’s choice of song-quote for the latest episode and the scene with Dean trying to collect himself in front of the mirror. To quote myself from the above link--

It’s interesting that, while the textual reading in relation to the episode is obviously a Dean vs Michael one, the whole thing is obviously a subtextual exploration of Dean’s kaleidoscopic identity, his personality full of contradiction, the layers of disguises, the subtle threat of his self shattering always looming. Of course his case is not, like for the song, a personality disorder, but simply the ways he’s had to adapt to his environment, the coping mechanisms he has been performing to survive and try to thrive (Dean does not thrive on trauma, Sam, Dean has developed an extreme adaptability to trauma since he was a tiny bean, but the fact that he’s been doing for so long doesn’t make it any less complicated and exhausting.)

It’s just you, it’s just you. It’s all you.

Textually, it’s about Michael. Subtextually, it’s about Dean’s identity and the many facets of it, and the ways he’s been struggling to handle the various facets in relation to the environment he’s lived in.

Now, let me explore an idea about the scene playing in Dean’s mind. While I do agree that this post makes a valid point about the business lady representing Michael’s way to ensure Dean’s acquiescence, I want to try another reading (not necessarily conflicting).

I was thinking (there’ll be a post) about the parallel between Dean’s door that keeps Michael locked in and the wall that kept Sam’s trauma locked in when Death delivered his soul back. When the wall was broken, Sam had to recompose the different pieces of his self. He was literally split across multiple versions of his self inside his mind.

Now, Dean. When we saw the first glimpse of him inside the bar, we speculated that the mysterious guy passed out on the counter was also Dean. Then we found out that multiple individuals were involved in Dean’s illusion scenario: Pamela, the business lady, the two vampires. But are they really separate constructions, or are they also Dean?

When Sam and Cas enter Dean’s mind, they see him, they see Pamela, they briefly see the vampires (not the business lady). By the time Dean recovers his memories of reality, he’s the only one remaining. My theory is that he has reconstituted himself, although not in a visually noticeable way (like in Sam’s case in 6x22). Every person the appears inside the bar, in the loop, is a part of Dean, a facet of his self.

In the last few days, browsing through tumblr, I have noticed that different people have different interpretations of the positivity or negativity of Dean’s experience with the bar in the mental scenario. Some bloggers have emphasized a positive quality to it: Dean has his own business, is not dependent on anyone, is not shackled to anything, loves what he does, in fact does the thing pretty much exclusively out of love for what he’s doing. Dean is independent and does something he loves, hangs out with a friend he feels comfortable with, is cool with Sam and Cas hunting across the country, while he uses his hunter skills to defend himself and the bar if the occasion arises.

Others, me included (see here and sorta here), have emphasized a negative nature of the situation: the moment Dean is forced to live through on loop, although he doesn’t realize it, has a feel of isolation to it; the cinematography gives a dark, claustrophobic sense to the ambience. The bar is almost empty, and implied not to be successful; Dean only serves alcohol to himself and his staff member. He spills monsters’ blood in an establishment that serves food that he is responsible for, he who as a thing for cleanliness...! The only things that happen in the loop are Dean serving alcohol for himself and his waitress, resisting the pressure to sell the place, and killing vampires who’ve attacked the place. There’s emphasis - we hear it over and over - on the fact that Sam and Cas are on a hunting trip and Dean only knows when they should be back, meaning he’s not sure. Here I have basically described how being a bartender would be good for Dean: and that’s not what we see Dean doing, not what Dean really experiences in the scene playing on loop.

Now, I am not saying one’s right and one’s wrong (heck, I’ll be the first person to be happy if Dean gets to give food people by choice and is happy about it x x). The amazing thing about Dean Winchester is that you can interpret him and his experiences in completely different ways, and still not be wrong. He is multifaceted. And I think that this is the key point here.

There’s definitely a part of Dean that would appreciate the scenario. No major responsibilities towards others, his own business instead of the suffocating “family business” built on guilt and sense of duty. A job that allows him to take care of people in a very lowkey way - he serves them alcohol and food but is not responsible for them (he isn’t fazed by a drunk guy passed out). But that’s also not all of what Dean is. I’m reminded more of what a teenage Dean, tightly wrapped in the ties of the family as run by John, considered an ideal career: fix cars, which then leave, and you’re no longer responsible for them. Would something like that be enough for him now?

Dean thrives surrounded by people - not random people, rather his chosen people, but still people. He loves taking care of them - not because he’s forced to but because he can. In the bar scene, he has Pamela, but everyone else isn’t there.

There’s also something that could be said about the alcohol. Dean and Pamela are the only people we effectively see drink alcohol in the scene. It’s in fact the plot of the scene: Dean prepares drinks for them to drink together. It’s all about alcohol-based socialization. He thinks Cas and Sam have gotten back from the hunt, he immediately prepares a beer for Cas. Alcohol is a ubiquitous part of his life and relationships in this scenario.

So, we’ve had a look to bartender Dean. Now let’s look at Pamela. Confident, going on dates with hot guys, wearing items that subtly (or not so subtly) cue to Cas; equipped with an extreme emotional intelligence and empathy; whose tasks include “cleaning up the blood” when monsters attack the bar. Pamela who worries about Sam and Cas but don’t tell Dean, he’ll use it against me. Who is amused by Cas’ weird (non-flirty) way of talking to ladies.

Pamela is also Dean. A ‘feminine’ side - still badass and assured and strong - whose emotions will be used against him by his own ‘masculine’ side, that prefers to keep his emotions a secret, although projected onto Pamela this becomes a light quip (interesting how she says ‘don’t tell Dean’ not so far away from Dean that he can’t hear her: he doesn’t react, but you expect him to reply ‘I can hear you’ from behind the counter, just like Michael said earlier). A side who carries the memory of getting back from hell thanks to an angel. A side who confidently helps with killing monsters but also tries to wipe out the signs of the violence of the hunting life. A side who is aware of his own emotions and desires and messy psychological things.

I don’t know about you, but for me -- all of this? Also Dean. These aspects get projected onto Pamela because that’s safer. I think this is an important point: Dean keeps aspects on himself that are safer, projects uncomfortable (in various ways) aspects on other ‘characters’ of the scene.

In fact, let’s see the other characters. The drunk unconscious guy who turns up a decoy and attacks Dean and Pamela... is also Dean. The depressed, self-harming side. The side of unhealthy coping mechanisms.

And the vengeful vampire whose nest was killed is also Dean, although there’s a difference - the vampire who yells comes from the outside. It’s like the symbolism is saying that revenge and aggression are part of Dean’s identity, but come from the outside.

Now, the business lady. This part is where I had most difficulty figuring out how I was supposed to read it... until I had a realization, which you can find here. Basically, I think that the business lady represents - together with other aspects of the bar, especially the space where Dean does the paperwork - the side of Dean that is attracted to death.

The lady is visually reminiscent of two pivotal figures in the episode Byzantium - Lily Sunder and Anubis. Lily chooses death in the episode, which turns out to be a liberation, an act of elevation and a reward. And Anubis is a deity of the afterlife, tasked with the paperwork. Dean’s office space is also reminiscent of Anubis’ office which we see when Lily arrives there to get her new evaluation. (Please open the link above for the screenshots.)

There is a lot of elements that remind of death (and Death) in Dean’s mental scene, including the Mexican-inspired figures on the wall that connect us to the Mexican restaurant where Dean asked Death to kill him but then killed Death. The parallels with Anubis also make sense, considering that Anubis has been presented as a Dean mirror. And the lady with the briefcase and the paperwork (who, again, comes from the outside), in my opinion, represents the side of Dean that feels the appeal of death, or at least has a closeness to the idea of dying, if you get what I mean. Which opens interesting perspectives.

She offers him a deal. Death for Dean (not necessarily his own) is generally associated to deals. Mary’s demon deal (his first symbolical death is at four...), John’s demon deal, his own demon deal, the deal with Cain, multiple deals of some kind with Death (when he becomes Death for a day, when he kills Death...) and so on (you could say it even starts with Sue-Ann Le Grange’s deal). In particular the episode is filled with references to his experience in hell - which obviously started with his own most iconic deal. I know you said you weren’t interested, but it’s just a few signatures and you could... Dean says that the bar - his soul, his life - isn’t for sale. Rocky’s looks pretty dead. It’s a very generous offer, the lady retorts. Why would I want to give you anything? Keep your gutter soul. It’s too tarnished, anyway. But Dean put his foot down. No deal. The lady stomps off. Dean doesn’t want to die. He has to intention to make that sale. I’ve never had anything this nice.

In this metaphor, the bar becomes his soul, or his life. Many posts have been written about the interior decor of the bar, filled with symbols of what’s important to Dean. In one of the posts I linked earlier I talked about the bar as the Noah’s Ark opposite Michael’s flood, and it makes sense that his soul is this little thing, tossed around the raging waters but never sinking, never breaking.

But just like Dean is both Noah and God, the bar is more than Dean’s life, because Dean is also Death. Not as in the actual entity with the official job (although he’s done it for a little bit...) but he is a force that has everything to do with death. In the wide sense of the concept - the circle of life and death, the cosmic balance. He’s the force that reconciled creation and destruction, he’s basically always walking the line between life and death. He’s a dispenser of death but also overflowing with life. Killer and nurturer at the same time. But I gotta stop before I end up typing 10k words describing Dean.

Dean’s paperwork office, as I pointed out in the post I linked, is reminiscent of Anubis’ office. A deity of death, who represents the judgment of a person’s morality, the moment that determines your salvation or damnation. Anubis told them that he’s just the guy doing the paperwork, he’s not the actual entity that decides whether a person will be saved or not. The individual is the real judge of themselves (Anubis’ own father punished those who judged themselves worthy of condemnation inside their hearts...), humans are the real “Anubis”, the real “God”. The ones writing the story. And Dean, Humanity and Divinity at the same time, best represents this. He’s the god of salvation and damnation. And by the end of the episode we find out that he’s the one who can either save or condemn the universe - of course.

Behind Anubis there’s a clock, behind Dean there’s a fan. Circles that keep running in the same motion, round and round, the ouroboros of life and death and creation and destruction. Eternity and time. (I haven’t been touching the topic for a while, but at some point I was very intrigued by the undercurrent of space and time in the Dabb era, and maybe it’s time to get the topic out).

I’m going to conclude this post here because otherwise I might go on forever. Thoughts?

[hellas-himself]

Ch.1 Welcome to Illyria

After the death of his father, Azriel is forced to go back to the one place he swore he’d never return to. But he finds himself quite literally face to face with his past, one that he had not let himself think of since he’d left. 

(translations and other notes at the end!)

here’s Ch. 2

.

.

.

The bus driver wasted no time in closing the door behind me as soon as my boots hit the ground. I sighed, adjusting my backpack and walked away from the paved road towards the muddy path head. Of course, I had been the only one to get off at this stop. Who would willingly come here? ‘Welcome to Illyria’, the sign read and I scoffed. But I supposed that this would be the most welcome I’d ever be here now that my father was dead. 

The dirt road gave way to pavement and I was surprised enough that I stopped and stared at the town I’d left so long ago. The shops were the same, yes, but renovated. New faces. Smiling faces. How anyone had ever loved living here, or even visiting- always amazed me.  But I realized where I was standing and though her father was gone, I was sure Emerie was running the store now. No one knew I was here and I wanted to keep it that way.

My father’s house was at least half an hour walk away from the town, but that was alright. The day was sunny despite the cold. Despite the fact that I was going back to the one place I swore I never would. But the hijo’e puta had one trick up his sleeve, even after his death. At least his lawyer respected her word and when I arrived, we were the only ones there. Cordial. To the point- I was handed a folder containing my mother’s legal documents like her birth certificate and passport. The papers to a deposit box at the bank across town that she had left to me- something I had not known about. Then, the lawyer handed me a wooden box, small enough to fit in my backpack but no key to open it. “It was left for you,” the lawyer said to me, “Legally.” I had to smirk at that. I almost wished I had been there to see my madrasta’s face when she learned my father had held on to my mother’s things. That he had managed to keep her from getting rid of it was a thought I was not ready to consider.

The bank was literally across town. By the time I made it back, I decided I had enough time to get something to eat and take a breath before walking the rest of the way. Illyria still had no buses, and I doubted Uber was even a thing here. It didn’t take me long to choose where to go, the diner was still up and running. I had to smile at the sight of it, that had been one place I’d enjoyed going to everyday after school with my friends. With my mother. Nuala and Cerridwen’s parents had owned it… But I knew they’d passed. I doubted the twins had remained here.

I didn’t recognize anyone inside, but it was quiet. Ridiculously clean. There was music playing softly and it smelled like heaven in there. I found a booth at the very back, setting my bag on the floor and pushing it against the wall. The owner must be new, I decided. The menu was almost all in French and to my surprise, Spanish.

“What can I start you off with?” a familiar voice said and I looked up, staring into familiar brown eyes. My heart did leaps in my chest.

“Elain?”

“Az?”

I set the menu down. “What are you doing here?”

She blushed. “I own the place.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “You still drink black coffee?”

I nodded and before I could utter another word, she walked away. I wasn’t sure what to make of this. I hadn’t seen Elain since my mother’s funeral. But she had been engaged then and everyone had gone their separate ways. When I left town… I left everyone behind, too.

Elain returned with a tray of food, setting it down in front of me. There was the black coffee, a bowl of farina with generous amounts of cinnamon and a side dish of eggs, bacon and toast. A glass of orange juice, too.

“Two sugars, right?”

“Yeah.”

She smiled, sitting down across from me.

“It’s quiet today… The weather keeps tourists away.”

“Tourists?” Anything to distract myself from the fact that she remembered what I liked to eat for breakfast and the fact that the farina tasted just like my mother used to make it.

“Well, once everyone discovered that the great Feyre Archeron lived here once, people come to visit. Mostly artists looking for whatever might have given Feyre her talent,” she said with a giggle. She still only had the one dimple when she smiled. “With the renovations, we attract all sorts of people, especially from the city. Bored rich people like to come play house at the rentals, like they can’t wipe their asses with money.”

I snorted which only made her smile.

“So, how did the old bastard trick you into coming back?”

“He had my mother’s things,” I said, taking a drink of coffee. Elain thrummed her fingers against the table. No ring, save for the gold one on her right middle finger with the blue stone. That was her birthday present when she turned fifteen. I’d worked extra hours at the shop and sold a gold chain my adoptive parents gave me one Christmas to afford it. Elain must have saw where my gaze had fallen because she brought her hands under the table.

“He left. I stayed.”

“Ah.”

“He was an asshole.”

“I agree.”

She giggled.

“How long are you here for?”

“Just the end of the day. I have to go to the bank before the last bus comes for the day.”

She looked disappointed but put on a smile.

“You can use my car. Wouldn’t want you getting stuck here.”

I wasn’t sure why that made me feel so guilty but Elain shoved her hand into her pocket and set keys on the table. The keychain was a squishy cinnamon roll. “I have to get back to work. It’s the only car back there… Usually. It’s blue.”

“Elain-”

“Finish eating and don’t you dare insult me by paying.”

I sighed, watching her get to her feet just as the door opened and a family of six walked in.

The first thing that bothered me about Elain’s blue Oldsmobile was that it was not locked. The second, was that there was no radio, the cables stuck out as if it had been stolen- which for Illyria, wouldn’t surprise me. The third was that there was no heat, which was nothing to me, but the thought of Elain driving this thing in the cold bothered me.

Her car got me to the bank at least. I didn’t have to wait long, the lawyer had called them and they’d been expecting me. My mother’s deposit box held two envelopes. One contained cash and the other, an old iron key, nothing more. I set those in my bag and got back in Elain’s car. It was starting to snow, but I had time to go back to the diner and walk to the bus stop if I wanted to.

Until Elain’s car shut down.

*

“Oh my god,” Elain shouted as I walked into the diner and rushed around the counter. “What happened?”

I probably looked like a wet dog but I was too cold to care about that.

“Your car shut down by the grocery store.”

“Shit,” she said.

“When was the last time you put gas in your car?” The fuel gauge wasn’t even working.

She blushed. “Well… I don’t really use it. I live here.”

“Here?”

“Come on. Cassian leaves some clothes here when he stays.”

“Cas stays here.” Why did that bother me so much?

“Sometimes. Rhys does, too, but Cas prefers my sofa to the bed and breakfast.”

She led me to the back of the diner and unlocked a door. Up the stairs we went and there, she unlocked another door. “It’s not much, but it’s home,” she said. Her parents had been wealthy, I remembered. They had never taken too kindly to her being friends with Cas and I, even if Rhysand’s parents had taken us in. Elain had grown up in a mansion, a mansion I’d never been allowed to go inside.

“When Cas told me the diner was going to be demolished, I bought it. But it was with my money,” she said proudly. “I refused any help from my parents… Especially after all they did to Feyre.”

“Honestly,” I said looking around the studio apartment. “This is you.”

That made her laugh. To the right was a beaten up sofa, a little table where the tv sat. A small dining table, big enough for four, took up the middle of the room where the kitchen was. And to the left, her bed was in the corner covered in a mountain of pillows and a teddy bear I remembered from high school. She had a dresser and nothing more.

“That door over there is where the washer and dryer is,” she said pointing towards the right. “The bathroom is over there. Cas has some clothes in the bottom drawer of my dresser. Just toss your clothes on the chair by the bed. I’ll wash them while you shower.”

“Left or right?” I asked.

“Hot is to the right, don’t ask me why. Oh, you can use my shampoo. I know you won’t use it all in one go like Cassian. There are clean wash clothes in one of the cubbies… Anyway, go shower before you get sick.”

Her bathroom sink was leaking, the shower head needed changing and the water drained too slow. After I got dressed, I walked out to find that Elain had gone back to work. I could hear the washer going. I don’t know what I was doing, but I started walking around her apartment, mentally cursing Cassian and Rhys. Her dining table was uneven on one leg. Two of the chairs were broken and held together by faith- as my mother would say. The kitchen sink didn’t even work and the light bulb in the ceiling fan was going to go out soon. I tried to charge my phone but I couldn’t find a single working outlet without disconnecting her tv, which I didn’t want to do. After I set the clothes to dry, I checked the cabinets, the windows. Some needed oil. Her locks needed replacing.

The door opened as I was looking in the rather empty fridge and I found Elain walking in with Lucien Vanserra, of all people. He smirked when he saw me, and I felt an undeserved jealousy at how close he stood beside her. Lucien had always had a thing for Elain, which I couldn’t blame him for.

“Az, Lucien went and got the car.”

“It was nothing,” he said with a shrug. “But Vassa is waiting for me downstairs.”

“Thanks,” she said, looking at him sheepishly.

“Anything for you, Elain.” He kissed her forehead then looked at me. “Az.”

“Vanserra.”

He nodded and left with a smirk. Elain let out a long sigh.

“I didn’t want to call him but… Lucien owns almost everything in town. He really didn’t have to drive it over here himself but Vassa was craving apple pie so I had Nuala send them home with two.”

“Nuala?”

“Oh, yeah. She’s in the kitchen. We work together.”

“That’s… I’m glad you’re not alone.”

Her cheeks turned pink. “I have to finish up downstairs, but once you’re ready to go, I’ll drive you. If you need to charge your phone, there’s an outlet by my bed.”

I nodded, not wanting to admit that I’d spent all this time looking for a working outlet. She smiled and walked out, leaving me alone to wait.

*

The drive to the bus stop was quiet, Elain humming to herself and cursing whenever she hit a bump in the road. She had handed me a bagged lunch which I put in my backpack at her insistence. She insisted on waiting with me for the bus, too.

“It was really nice seeing you,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry about the car.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“All the same.”

“It was nice seeing you, too.”

The bus came in to view and we both rose to our feet. Once, she would have hugged me so tight I’d break a rib. But I wasn’t sure I was allowed that anymore, if I even deserved it.

“Don’t be such a stranger, Az.”

“I’ll try.”

She put her hands in her pockets, reminding me of Rhys.

“Let me know when you get home?”

“Yeah, sure.”

The bus stopped in front of us.

“Bye, Az.”

“Bye, El.”

Fighting the urge to hug her goodbye, I got on the bus. I found an empty sit and sat down. When the bus drove away, I looked back. Elain was still standing there. 

.

.

.

So I wrote this last month and never finished it. But with Reyes coming up (Three King’s Day) I just figured- what the hell. I’m a sucker for Hallmark and that “small town girl goes back home and falls in love with boy from said town” trope is my jam but I switched it. Being Puerto Rican, Christmas ends in the middle of January so I wanted to toss that in, too. My family is from a town called Fajardo in Puerto Rico, I lived in the mountains (just like our favorite bat boys).

hijo’e puta is the “improper” way to pronounce son of a bitch back home lol native speakers take out some of the letters sometimes. in this case, the ‘d’ in de which means of. 

Madrastra means step mother. 

Farina is cream of wheat? Idk. But it’s my favorite thing ever for breakfast. My grandma makes it with hella sugar and cinnamon. They make it every morning with coffee on the side and basically it’s sometimes the “first” breakfast. (at least in my family)

I have NO idea what to name this thing. So I’ll just name the chapters. 

Happy Holidays!!!

[huntertales]

Part One: Don’t Say Something You’ll Regret. (Torn and Frayed S08E10)

Episode Summary: Castiel turns to Dean and the reader for help when an angel is being held captive and must rescue him. Meanwhile, Sam is given an ultimatum from Amelia; stay with her or leave and never make contact again. The decision grows complicated when Sam learns a secret the reader has been keeping from him, making him choose between the woman he loves or the family and lifestyle he’s only known. Word Count: 6,474. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

You knocked on the motel door of room number one-eighteen that was booked for the night by a man that matched the description of someone who was six-foot four, neck length brown hair and was probably wearing plaid. The person behind the desk instantly knew who you were talking about, he said something about how he used to work here a year or so ago and helped fix up the place with a dog that he accidentally hit. You helped fill in the gaps when he tried to think of the dog's name, you knew Sam had mentioned it was Riot. An Australian Shepard he left in Kermit, along with the woman he loved and a bit of happiness he spent his entire life trying to get. Only to come back when he thought his real life had caught up with the other one he spent such a short time enjoying, in a way that forced him back into all of this the first time he tried a go at leaving it.

You were honestly surprised that Sam opened up the door and only half attempted to slam it on your face when he saw it was you and his brother. You didn't smile, you didn't apologize right away for what you did. Instead you let Sam decide how he wanted things to go. Sam stood in the motel doorway for a moment, his infamous bitch face directed towards his older brother to show off how much he was pissed off at how things ended up here. Dean didn’t take much offense to it as he stepped inside the room, brushing past the both of you as he looked around to see if it had just been Sam. You walked into the room a second later with your arms crossed over your chest.

“Who did you expect?” Dean asked his little brother.

Sam didn’t responded to the question, he slammed the door behind you when he saw that it was the only two people he didn’t want to see. You wondered if he had seen Amelia being able to live a life without him. Maybe the both of them had met up again, and you reopened old wounds for the past couple. Sam stood where he was as Dean walked across the room. “Long drive?”

“Well, I wouldn’t had to make it if you hadn’t have hung up on me.” Dean responded.

“Yeah, well,” Sam said, defending himself for the actions he chose in the spur of the moment. “I heard all I needed to hear.”

“No, you heard what you wanted to hear.” Dean said, feeling the need to take it upon himself to correct his brother’s way of thinking and feeling. It was almost as if he could justify his choices to make them seem like it was the right thing to do. “I told you Benny wasn’t killing. Hell, Y/N watched him end the fangbanger that was.”

“How about Martin?” Sam questioned his brother. “How did he end that?”

“Stupid—just like I said it would. Crazy son of a bitch didn’t give Benny a choice.” Dean said. “It was self defense.”

"Seriously, Dean? That's the story you're going with?" Sam asked in almost a mocking tone from the excuse he was hearing and how ridiculous it sounded. "That the victim was the real victim here?"

"Hey, like it or not, that's the truth, okay?” You couldn’t help yourself but speak up, trying to help guide some direction into this conversation before it turned into an argument. But you knew that it was impossible with the two brothers when they were worked up like this there was no way of talking them down like you hoped for.

“And there was a time when that actually meant something.” Dean said, feeling the need to add that in. As if that was going to change his little brother’s mind.

“Yeah, yeah.” Sam agreed for the most part with that line of thinking. “No kidding.”

Dean stared at his brother with a slightly confused expression at the muttered remark, knowing it meant something more. "What does that mean?"

"You think this is just about Benny?" Sam asked his brother.  

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"What the hell do you think I'm talking about?"

"Amelia?" Dean asked, suddenly catching onto the reason why his brother was so pissed off at him. It wasn't just because of the whole Benny situation, but because of a cheap trick he used to get him out of the way. "Oh, come on, man. I sent you that text 'cause I needed you to—"

“You needed me to what? To tear ass to Texas? To be afraid that what happened to Jessica, what happened to…” Sam trailed off for a second as he started to slowly pace around the room, telling you about his worst fear that haunted him like a bad dream for so many years and came right back after he read that text. “Everybody that we care about might have happened to her?”

"You were gonna kill Benny." Dean said. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Is that what we are?" Sam asked. He knew him and his brother were still on rocky terms, but he thought the man was better than to do something so low like this. It seemed that he was wrong to think so highly of his brother, because it seemed the man didn’t feel the same way about him. “You save a vampire by making me believe that the woman I love might be dead?"

“What do you want to hear, Sam? That I was wrong? Fine. I was wrong.” Dean said, apologizing in his own way that he thought was going to fix everything. But it didn’t take an idiot to hear how insincere the words sounded. You gave him a look of disbelief, Sam did everything in his power not to start punching his older brother. Because he really didn’t mean it. “But if you had just heard me out, if you had trusted me, all of this could have been avoided.”

“You didn’t want me to trust you. You wanted me to trust Benny, and I can’t do that.” Sam said, sticking to his morals of how he felt about monsters from his own past experience with them. “Not the way you got Y/N thinking he’s a good guy. Because I know what he is, and what he’s capable of.”

Every part of you wanted to speak up and defend yourself against what Sam said, but you remained silent, because it meant you sided with Dean. And if you mentioned the dangers that Benny brought along, it meant you were siding with Sam. So you remained silent. Because you saw no improvements for the near future. The both of them were so caught up in the past or trying so hard to be a good friend to the person who saved them from the afterlife, they forgot who really mattered the most here. You wandered over to the bed when you felt a dizzy spell hit you out of nowhere, but it went unnoticed by the brothers.

"Okay, well, then," Dean said, knowing for himself that this conversation was getting nowhere productive. Both of them had stated the grounds of how they felt, now it was time to figure out where they went from here. "What the hell do we do now?"

"That depends. It depends on you." Sam said. "On whether or not you're done with him."

“Well, honestly, I don’t know.” Dean mumbled, having the audacity to say such a thing after all that was said and done. Sam seemed genuinely surprised at his brother's decision, and even the slightest bit hurt that he was trying to hide. You couldn't take anymore of this argument if this was where it was going to lead.

Dean knew that Benny was the one person that was tearing the both of them apart, but he was still holding on, trying to be more of a brother to a vampire he spent one year with and saved his life from purgatory. Yes, you agreed to a certain point that Benny was a good guy who didn’t deserve to die again. But you wouldn’t choose him over Sam. And Dean should have known better. Sam was the only family he had left, his own flesh and blood who saved his life countless times on hunts. Who threw himself into the pit and suffered psychological damage and went a year soulless, who had been there pulling him back up to the surface every single time he dragged his feet, wanting to take the easy way out.

None of it mattered anymore to Dean because of what Sam had decided to do last year while you were gone. The younger man was overwhelmed with grief after seeing you die and then Bobby just a short time later, then seeing his brother and Cas disappear into thin air. All of his family he’s ever known was gone...just like that. But then he found Amelia by accident. Two broken people running from their past meet each other after he hit a dog and spend a year together, happy. But it was time to go back to the way things were. Sam made his selfish decisions by not looking for Dean, and the older Winchester had every right to be upset for a short while. But it was time to move on.

You wanted Sam to forget about Amelia, and you never wanted to see Benny’s face again for long as you lived. Because you realized the mistakes you made by feeding into the situation like you always did to make them happy. This was like Sam and Ruby being friends, and Dean wanting to run away to have a normal life. Now they were making the same mistakes both of them made in the past. And they never learned. You could take anymore of this argument.

“So, this is where we’ve ended up? Fighting over vampires and girls?” You asked the two brothers, even though you weren’t looking for an answer. You pushed yourself up to your feet as you stared at the both of them with a look of anger, and even the slightest bit of disappointment at how things were turning out. “After everything. You don’t learn. And you still won’t let it go.”

Sam let out a sigh as Dean rolled his eyes when you spoke up, putting yourself into an argument that he thought didn’t concern you. “Here we go.” “Yeah. Here we go again, Dean. Here we go again with the same freaking argument I’ve been having to hear for the past five months straight! Sammy’s stuck in the past and Dean trusts a vampire over his own brother.” You said, finally speaking the brutal truth that had been lingering between all of you since you got back. Neither one of the boys responded or tried to defend themselves, and it wasn’t like you were going to give them a chance if they tried. They spoke what they felt, now it was your turn.

“I’m not gonna sit around anymore and watch you two rip each other’s throats out for the same crap the both of you did. You want to know the problem is? It’s Amelia and Benny. Both of you need to cut ties with them. Or else we’re never going to see eye to eye anymore.” You said, trying to find some sort of solution that they would have to agree on eventually. "I'm not taking sides anymore. You two need to realize that there's two ways to fix this. Keep doing what you're doing...or realize that this—the three of us—is all we have left. If you want to destroy that for your own personal reasons. Fine. Just think about the future."

You knew it was a bit harsh for being so blunt like this and not giving them much of a choice in the matter of how you wanted them to handle things. But it was just your opinion, and at the end of it all, the boys were the one who were going to have to make the decisions on their own. You could only hope they were going to make the right one. Every part of you wanted to open your mouth and tell them the secret you had been keeping for the past two weeks, hoping it might somehow think about someone other than themselves. But it was always fear that held you back about how they were going to handle it. And you couldn't take anymore stress right now.

"Glad I made the drive." Dean muttered underneath his breath, responding to your advice by brushing it off like he didn't even hear it.

You scoffed from how unreasonable he could be when he got worked up like this, which meant it was going to be an awkward drive. You stood where you were, flinching only the slightest when you heard the door slam behind Dean, leaving you and Sam alone. You bit the inside of your cheek as you looked around the room, all before your gaze fell on the younger Winchester and his sullen expression from what you had done. And the actions you took part in that lead the three of you here.

“I thought you had my back, Y/N.” Sam said, speaking up now that it was the both of you. “How could you do this to me?”

"If it's worth anything, I'm sorry. I really am. I was angry at the time from what you said to me. I...I just don't like people thinking that I'm not capable of taking care of myself. You know what it's like for people to put you down." You said. You apologize to him for what you did, but you weren't going to tell him what he wanted to hear or walk on eggshells in order to make him feel better. Sam’s expression changed slightly. His shifting look of anger told you he thought your apology wasn't good enough. You rolled your eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. "What do you want me to do, Sam? Support you?”

“Well, it’s a start.” Sam said. You found yourself staring at him like he just grew a second head, making you wonder if you heard him correctly. “I told you how I felt about her and how much she means to be. And you want me to just walk away from her? You know I love Amelia—”

"I know. And I've supported you with every decision that you ever made. Right or wrong, I was right there beside you cheering you on. But...I can’t do it, Sammy. Not anymore.” You said, your voice growing quieter as you told him the truth about why you were forcing yourself not to agree with this. You crossed your arms over your chest as you stared at the man for a moment. In that moment you realized that you might not see Sam again, not in the way you were so used to. In a way that you had grew dependent on. "Because you were right about one thing."

Sam furrowed his brow slightly as his expression changed into confusion from what you meant by that. "Right about what?”

You opened your mouth to finally let out the secret you had been keeping from everyone that you were close to and try to give him some context to why you had been acting so off. But before the two words could slip out of your mouth, they were replaced with the honking of a horn right outside of the motel room. You shut your eyes as you winced, knowing that it was Dean, and he was growing impatient from how long you were taking. You thought that maybe it was the universe telling you to keep the secret you had just a little bit longer.

You started walking until you were at the motel room door with your grip on the handle about ready to open it u and head out, but Sam called out your name, making you stop and look over at him. Eventually he could catch on from what you were trying to say. If he didn't, then you had a feeling he made up on his mind on who he thought was more important to him. "Nevermind. It's not like it matters, anyway."

You opened up the door and headed out of the motel room alone to leave Sam in Texas so he could have his personal space to be with his thoughts. He needed some time to think about the future and what was important. So did Dean. You made your way to the Impala and slid yourself into the passenger seat again, a new arrangement that felt off each time you got into the car. You missed the backseat and its space, the obstructed view of two ginormous bodies occupying the front. Everything about this felt off. But you might have to get used to this. Everything felt like it was coming into perspective. You stared at the motel room door for a moment, resisting the urge to go back in there and drag Sam out of there.

Your concentration to the door was broken when you heard the Impala’s engine turn on, making you turn your head to now stare straight ahead, Dean’s outline in the corner of your eye. You watched as he shifted gears and got ready to pull out of the parking lot, but not before mumbling something underneath his breath he thought would go unnoticed. “About time.”

"I'll take as much time as I damn well please." You responded back to his remark in a cool tone. You turned your head to look at him and give him a dirty glare at his attitude he was projecting onto you. "Don't ever tell me what to do."

"I didn't tell you to do anything. I said it was 'about time.'" Dean corrected you. You responded to him by rolling your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest, moving your gaze back to the window to distract yourself for the long car ride. "Besides, it’s not like you listen to anyone half the time. You’re too busy talking over people and butting yourself in conversations where it doesn't concern you."

“I'm sorry, Dean. Next time you have anything to say I'll make sure to shut right up and listen to you.” You said to him in the most sarcastic voice you could give him to prove how annoyed you were starting to get with him. “Because your opinion is clearly the only one that matters.”

“What the hell is your problem?” Dean asked you, finding none of this amusing.

You narrowed your eyes on him from his question that only grew you more agitated. “If you took your head out of your ass for one second maybe you’d realize I’m a little stressed out.”

"We're all stressed out at the moment, Y/N." Dean said. You rolled your eyes again from his response that wasn’t exactly helpful, and he didn’t find your behavior all that amusing. “Are you capable of anything other than rolling your eyes?”

“I don’t know. Are you capable of anything other than being a dick and thinking about yourself?” You responded to his question with another. Dean fell silent for a moment as he stopped himself from lashing back at you from anger. You shook your head and adjusted yourself in your seat to get more comfortable for the long and silent drive ahead of you. “Lets just go.”

Dean was more than happy to listen to your command without backlash or another remark he tried to mutter underneath his breath. He switched gears and began pulling out of the parking spot, making you look at the motel room door one more time. You crossed your arms tighter around your body as you watched it soon become nothing more than a small object in the rear view mirror, making you wonder if this was how things were going to be. And if there was really no way of stopping the boys from making the biggest mistake of their lives.

+ + +

The both of you managed to spend most of the car ride in complete silence, the radio helping try and stop the awkward tension forming the farther you got away from Texas. Dean decided it was best to head to Rufus’ cabin to lay low for a while and for Sam to cool off. You didn't care where you ended up at this point, all you wanted to do was take a hot shower and get some rest that wasn't in the Impala. You still had every intention of not saying another word to Dean as you got out and started heading to the cabin so you could fulfill your need to unwind. But it seemed Dean had a few words lingering in the back of his mind on the drive back.

You made it halfway across the living room until Dean spoke up, the conversation starter he chose made you stop dead in your tracks. “If you were so against Benny this entire time, why did you help me out?”

“I never said I was against him.” You said, turning around to face the older Winchester to tell him how you felt. Even though you knew he wasn’t going to like it. “For the sake of everyone and my sanity, I think you should cut ties with him. The both of you are topside, go back to your lives.”

“Great idea. I’ll call Benny up right now and say never to talk to me again. Thanks for saving my life and pulling my ass out of purgatory, but my brother doesn’t like you. So we gotta end things.” Dean said. You clenched your jaw as you refrained from rolling your eyes again from how he was acting. “If Sam doesn’t like Benny, well, then that’s his problem. He never had good taste in friends. Like I’m gonna listen to him.”

You rubbed your face with your hands from how he was acting. “Do you ever sit down and think about the near future, Dean? About the possibility our family might not have Sam in it anymore because of your personal selfishness?”

“I’ll be lucky if I can even get to tomorrow, Y/N.” Dean said. “It’s not my problem if Sam doesn’t like Benny. That’s his choice he made. And I'm sure as hell not gonna change my life around to make him stick around."

You forced yourself to try and inhale a deep breath to refrain yourself from snapping at him and saying something you might regret. But it was at this point you couldn't take it anymore. Weeks and weeks of the pent up frustration you had been trying to keep at bay was too much for you to handle. You heard the boys argue and bicker over things that were small to end of the world big, but you weren't going to let them break this family up because of who they spent some time with while you were gone. Not with so much resting on your shoulders and things you had still yet to tell him. You turned around to face Dean, and without thinking, you suddenly snapped at him.

"Why are you so selfish?!" You questioned the man standing in front of you, feeling another mood swing hit you. You knew there was no breathing technique or self restraint from stopping you at this point. "What did Benny ever do that Sam never did to save your whiny ass?"

"Benny was there for me when I needed him the most! He never let me down the year I knew him, never gave up on trying to get us out of that hellhole!" Dean argued back with you, his voice rising to match yours. "Benny has been more of a brother to me than Sam had been in a long time. That's not family I want in my life, Y/N. It's on Sam if he doesn't want to be apart of it."

In that moment you were suddenly overcome with the urge to tell him the news you had been harboring in the back of your mind since you found out. You wanted to scream on the top of your lungs that the Winchester family wasn't going to be just the two of them anymore, it was going to have a new member in the next several months. You wanted to shake him and get Sam on the phone to tell the both of them to cut the crap and to forgive and forget. Much as you wanted to get this weight off your shoulders, the reality of things tugged at the back of your mind, making the scenarios you played out in your head come to haunt you.

The idea of Dean finding out that he was going to be a father always ended up tragic as it had for the Braden family when you thought about it. Maybe even worse. You thought about telling him, hoping that it might bring some happiness to him, a chance for him to realize that he could love someone and be a good father John never could for him. But he couldn’t. He dismissed all of it, because he was too scared to face reality. You pictured him storming out and leaving you, never to be seen again. Blaming it on how he wanted to keep you "safe." Maybe even having Cas erase him from your mind so you could live a normal life, as if all the years you spent together with him weren't good enough. His own self doubt and pity stopped him from facing responsibility he once would do anything to get.

Those thoughts and scenarios was when you were up late at night, lost in your own personal doubts about the future. And then there was the times you were in a conversation or doing some research for a hunt when your mind started drifting to a cute daydream of everyday life with the baby. Things that made you think that things might work out. But...then your mind started to drift to a dark place about what might happen in the upcoming hours during what you were doing. You were on the hunt, arrogant at the thought nothing could hurt you. But then the inevitable happens. You got hurt, you lost the baby. Dean hating your guts for what you had done.

You weren't sure if you would even make it to full term. You knew your own mother had complications getting pregnant with you. She had miscarriage after miscarriage until she got desperate and got down on her knees and begged for a child from a demon. And while you were human, the fear lingered in the back of your head of what might happen. What if the child came out like you had? What if you did something and it ended up with demon blood in its system like Sam had? You hoped that Dean wasn’t going to raise this child like he had. There were so many worst case scenarios running through your mind, you grew scared that all of this was going to end up badly like it had for your parents.

So you kept the secret buried in the back of your mind, deciding that it was better to store in there for a little longer until you were ready and things were looking a little less gloomy. You were barely at eight weeks. There was still so much going on from the boys to closing the gates of hell. And that's how you ended the argument, too. You just left Dean standing in the middle of the cabin, deciding you were too tired to fight anymore about this. If Dean wanted to make that decision, so be it. You walked into the bedroom and slammed the door shut, making sure to lock it when he realized what he had done. And how pissed off you still were at him.

+ + +

You remembered reading somewhere in a woman’s magazine that you should never go to bed feeling angry at your partner. You should try to resolve the problem and work out whatever was bothering you. But you brushed it off as some sort of cra that might work out for another couple that was facing issues that were more on a normal scale. You didn't think it necessarily applied to your situation. You were fighting about asking your boyfriend to stop being friends with a vampire and your best friend to abandon the life he spent a year ago being happy.

The next morning you woke up feeling worse as you had when you went to bed, only to toss and turn, hating how lumpy and empty it felt without Dean. You had no new texts from Sam after you sent one, hoping he might give you a chance to put out the fire burning the bridge between him and his brother. You rolled out of bed a short time after waking up and staring up at the ceiling, waiting to hear any sort of movement from outside in the cabin. When you deemed the place quiet, you unlocked the door and slipped yourself out to fix yourself a warm cup of tea and some breakfast if you could find any in the cabin. If not, you'd just make a run into town.

You expected Dean to be around here somewhere when you noticed the Impala was still parked out front before you made your way out into the other part of the cabin. You made your way to the kitchen and fixed yourself some hot water and fetched out a tea bag. And while you were waiting for the water to boil, you wandered over to the beat up couch when you heard soft snoring coming from there. You found Dean lying on the couch with a beer bottle tucked into his side as he peacefully slept. You crossed your arms over your chest as you found yourself standing over him, watching the man sleep without him realizing.

You suddenly found yourself growing agitated at him. Dean wasn’t doing anything and he still pissed you off...at how freaking handsome he looked at the moment. You were always a sucker for his way of looking good no matter the occasion. Sometimes all it took was one look and you were wondering why you were arguing with him in the first place, a wink or a smile to make you feel like your cheeks were on fire. You had been with him for almost five years and he still made you feel like you falling in love with him at times, like everything was still new. It was something so simple as watching him sleep made you realize all over again about how much you loved him. Switch out the beer bottle for a sleeping baby resting on his chest and that would be your future...if you only told him without chickening out.

You let out a sigh and walked away from the sleeping man and to the kettle whistling for your attention. You fixed yourself the cup of tea and had every intention of going back to the bedroom, however as you turned around, the sound of your shuffling around must have made Dean stir awake. You looked straight ahead to see a familiar face standing in the middle of the living room, making you jump slightly, only it was Dean who got a rude awakening.

Dean jumped a few inches off the couch at the sight of Cas standing over him, watching him sleep. He accidentally let go of the beer he was cradling, making some of the drink spill out onto the couch before he grabbed it. “Damn it, Cas! How many times I got to tell you,” Dean slammed the beer bottle down onto the coffee table as he started to calm down from the jump scare the angel made a habit out of. “It’s just creepy.”

"Good morning, Cas." You greeted the angel in a more friendlier tone as you approached the couch. You turned your head slightly to look at Dean from the corner of your eye before turning your attention back to Cas. "What are you doing here?"

"Dean, Y/N. I need your help." Cas said, giving you the reason why he was here. You raised your brow slightly in curiosity as you took a sip of your drink, watching as Dean tried to wipe away whatever beer might have spilled on him. "The angel Samandriel, he's been taken."

Your face scrunched up slightly at who the angel was talking about, but then you were reminded of the one you had seen Dean talking to at the auction in attempt to get the tablet back. He took the vessel of some kid, and bet almost everything valuable to get the word of God back. "You mean Alfie, the wiener-on-a-stick kid?"

“Yes. I heard his distress call this morning.” Cas informed the both of you.

“On, what angel radio?” You asked him, trying to keep your attention to Cas. You refrained from giving Dean an annoyed look as you watched him wipe away the sleep from his eyes. Either you were more hormonal than you realized, or he was doing everything in his power to make himself appear more...adorable.  “I thought you shut that down.”

"Well, my penance, it's going well, and I thought it was time to turn it back on." Cas said. You nodded your head slowly, not sure if that was a good idea, considering what he told you in secrecy. However if he felt it was time to make peace with his fellow siblings, so be it. "I've been helping people."

“Well, good for you.” Dean muttered underneath his breath. He got himself up from the couch to suddenly regret the decision when he felt his neck and back start to feel sore. He let out a sigh and attempted to relieve some of the pain to a bare minimum.

“Have fun sleeping on the couch?” You curiously asked the man, hiding your smirk behind the cup as you took another sip of your drink. He turned his gaze to you and replied with a tight smile, refraining from saying anything to piss you off even more to end up in the same predicament as last night. "So, who snatched Heaven's most adorable angel?"

The angel replied with a name that made you cringe, “Crowley.”

You and Dean looked over at one another for a moment, the feelings of last night faded away, knowing that it was time to get serious. Whenever the king of hell was involved, it always meant trouble for whoever was in the hot seat. “We’re listening.”

“Samandriel is being held in the general vicinity of Hastings, Nebraska.” Cas said.

“”The general vicinity’? That’s all you got?” You asked the angel. “It’s not much to go on.”

"Yes, which is why I need your help. It seems this is gonna involve..." Cas said, trailing off for a second as he spoke of the dreaded human interaction that he wasn't ever good with. "talking to people."

"Come on, Cas." You teased the angel as you walked over to the table where you had left your laptop last night for safekeeping. “I thought you were a hunter now."

“Well, I thought so, too,” Cas said. “but it seems I lack a certain—”

“Skill?” You finished the angel’s thought as you innocently opened up your laptop, expecting to be greeted by the black screen and the reflection of your disheveled appearance you made no effort in taming. However it seemed someone was on it and made no attempted to hide what they were doing. on the internet browser. “What the hell?

You made the realization that it was the infamous website of bustyasianbeauties, and someone had been enjoying the sight late last night. Before you could say anything else, Dean quickly slammed the laptop shut, managing to miss your fingers. You turned your head to look up at the man, your expression turning into a glare. He ignored your daggers as he turned the laptop around to try and cover his tracks like he should have last night.

You crossed your arms over your chest as you raised your brow, he fumbled to come up with an excuse that didn't sound terrible. He opened the laptop back up, and quick as possible, exited out of the browser while covering the screen with his hand, trying to shield you and the angel from the young woman on the screen greeting the visitors with her dazzling smile and nothing else. You rolled your eyes when he finished up and pushed the laptop back over to you.

"All right." You said, clearing your throat as you pulled up a new browser to get started on a bit of research to track this angel down. "What am I looking for?"

“Well, when you torture an angel, it screams, and that kind of pain, it creates a ripple effect of strange incidents.” Cas explained. You began typing in something into the search bar and waited for a moment until the results came up. While the angel patiently for you to do your own research, he noticed that something was off about the dynamics. "Where's Sam?"

"Sam's gone." Dean informed the angel about the change. You for a moment when you heard him deliver the news, which was only half of it. You refrained yourself from adding more to the story, knowing you had a feeling Cas would be able to pick up more along the way. This wasn't the first time the brothers went their separate ways. "It's all right. We'll find Alfie ourselves."

"Right." You mumbled. “Because the last time the three of us worked together it ended so well."

You decided that it wouldn't hurt to give the brothers some space to work out their differences and realize what kind of horrible mistake they were about to make. It worked like a charm last time. But it took you and Dean to be hurled five years into the future and the impending doom of the apocalypse to realize the three of you were a family that needed to stick together. You felt a wave of morning sickness hit you like it always did after you woke up. It made you wonder if the secret you were still keeping from them would help put their differences aside. Or tear the family apart for good.

[Next Part]

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