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castielific · 4 years

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Tags: Supernatural, Destiel, Alternate Ending, Canon Compliant (up to 15x10), Human!Castiel, First kiss Summary:

Once there are no more monsters, the only thing left to fight for is happiness.

Here is my take on our boys�� happy ending. I hope you’ll enjoy it.

**************************

"I hate you", Dean grumbles into his elbows. His arms are on the table, his head buried into it as he squeezes his hands over his ears.

"I think he’s getting better," Sam lies, hiding his grimace just in time so that Dean doesn’t see it when he raises his head to glare at him.

Dean opens his mouth, but is cut off by a particularly shrill note that makes him feel like someone is drilling right into his tympans. Even Sam can't help but squeeze his fists in pain, crumbling the edge of the book he's trying to read.

"'This would be good for you, Castiel'," Dean says, imitating Sam. "What about us, Sam? This doesn't feel good for us!"

"It's not so bad," Sam offers miserably.

Yes it is. It's even worse than bad. Dean flinches in pain at every horrible noise that resounds all around the bunker as Cas continues to play - or more like, tries to play - what Dean thinks is supposed to be 'Twinkle twinkle little star' on his newly acquired violin.

Truth is, it is all Sam's fault. Dean can't ressent him that much though, because the look on Castiel's face when they went to the music store was worth the torture they've been enduring for the last two days.

Since God has been defeated, they've all been having a serious case of cabin fever. Heaven and Hell have closed up their doors, angels and demons alike running home with their tails between their legs. Even the common monsters have gone into hiding. Apparently the Winchesters killing God has impressed them enough that they've all decided that they better keep quiet. Of course, they're still there, but smart enough not to do anything that might attract the wrath of the hunters. Apparently, they are exceptionally good at hiding when they want to because the only case the brothers have had in the last six months had been a rogue vampire that went on a rampage. He was still young and out of control. It took three hours to take him down, the whole deal was done in less than a day, even counting the drive.

In short, hunting has become boring. All they've had to keep them busy have been some random salt and burn, nothing exciting. The rest of the time, they've stayed cooped up in the Bunker and it didn't take long for them to go crazy. Each in their own personal way.

For his part, Sam has gone a little too far on his healthy lifestyle penchant, to the point that it became borderline unhealthy: Running up to three hours a day and eating nothing but vegetable smoothies. It lasted two months before he realized that all it was doing was giving him diarrhea and making his shins look like basketball. So now he's taken to digitizing and translating every book in their library….which sounds as exciting as getting all your teeth pulled out, if you were to ask Dean, but at least it passes the time.

Dean's way of coping was on the polar opposite as his brother's: he decided it was as good a time as any to learn to cook better. Dean has always loved cooking and has been having a blast since they found the bunker. For the first time of his life, he has a home and a kitchen of his own. Until now, between the Amara, the Men of Letters, and all that crap with God, he never had time to really enjoy it, limiting himself to the few recipes he already knew: burgers, steak, and breakfast food. With the hunting gig slowing down though, he had all the time in the world to try his hand at more ambitious things like roast, chili, lasagna and way too many pies.

His personal wake up call came when he tried to put on clothes one morning and couldn't find any pants that fitted him anymore.They hadn't had a case for three weeks, and he had to admit that he became a little too familiar with sweatpants. When confronted with the terrible truth of his every single one of his jeans being suddenly too small, he had no other choice: he spent the whole day dismantling the dryer to find out why it was shrinking all his clothes. Sam had a blast mocking him and Castiel, with his usual discretion, was quite pointedly avoiding looking at Dean's stomach during that conversation. Dean spent a long time in front of the mirror after that. He regrettably had to admit that his stomach resembled more Father Christmas's belly than David Beckham's abs at this point. He started to follow Sam's health routine the very next day. Or, tried to, at least. It didn't last long before he couldn't take the smoothie torture anymore, and decided that limiting his pie intake to two per week and doing some exercise should be enough.

Sam and him actually came to an agreement on food after that, and while Dean would never ever drink a kale smoothie again, it actually wasn't so bad to add a little more salad to his plate.

All in all, it was a difficult time for everyone, but especially for Castiel.

Castiel used to be an angel with a Godly purpose, a mission grander than anything people could even imagine. Then suddenly Chuck was gone, and the angels were gone too, and he just became a puny human with no real purpose, a soldier of God with no God to serve and no war to fight. Easy to say that he quickly joined Dean in his sweatpants' aficionados club. Except where Dean was happy to indulge in a laziness that he never really had a chance to try out before, Cas soon fell into depression. Even the best pies Dean made seemed tasteless to him after a time. He was lost in a human routine that he could find no pleasure in. It came to a point where he didn't even sleep in his own bed anymore, never leaving the couch except to satisfy the most basic needs. Sadly, on most days, showers didn't seem to be considered as one of those needs.

Once they had their breakthrough about their own miserable situations, the Winchesters decided to tackle their new mission: helping Cas.

It was Sam who proposed that they should all write a list of things they always wanted to do, but never had time for.

They took a trip to the Grand Canyon on the very next day, dragging a reticent Castiel along. Their road trip lasted nearly a month, because they kept getting distracted by new destinations. Sam wanted to see the Harold Washington Library, Dean wanted to go to Baltimore to go to the Dangerously Delicious Pies shop he heard about while searching for new pies recipes, and so on.

Castiel never asked to see anything, pretending gloomily that he used to be able to go anywhere in a flap of his wings, and therefore had seen everything he ever wanted too. Dean dragged him to an amusement park anyway, because he was pretty sure the angel had never been on a rollercoaster before. Dean regretted that pretty fast when Cas became strangely fond of them, saying that it reminded him of flying. They took so many rides that Dean threw up and Sam's nose bled for nearly one hour after.

Still, it seemed like a wake up call for Cas. He spent the rest of the drive home lost in his thoughts or scribbling a list on the back of a gas station's receipt. He even asked them to stop in Utah on the way back to see the largest bee hives in the US. They ended up buying so many types of honey that they now have a cupboard full of it in the kitchen.

They had been back to the bunker for two days when Cas declared he wanted to learn how to play an instrument. They went to a music store, where Castiel tried on every instrument from a harmonica to a full drum set. After the obligatory harps jokes, Dean tries to entice him to buy a guitar, and learn all the best Zep songs. Cas was too polite and knew better than to criticize Dean's taste in music, so he chose the guitar. Dean wasn't oblivious to the way his friend kept lingering in front of a black violin though, so he relented and bought that instead.

He's sorely regretting it now.

It's still totally Sam's fault though, he was the one to come up with the idea of this stupid list in the first place.

**********************

"I've decided what I want," Castiel declares as soon as the movie's credit starts rolling about a month later.

Sam snorts, waking up from the doze he'd fallen into. He blinks at them, wiping his eyes tiredly.

"I said no cat, Cas," Dean reminds. Apparently, one of Cas' item on his stupid list is to get a pet.

"I don't want a cat."

"I'm allergic to animal's hair," Dean reminds him, suspicious. Last night Cas declared he wanted a Camel. A freaking camel.

"Of course, Dean, your health comes first," Cas concedes amicably. "Although, I do wonder if you're not using this as an excuse, and would not have been amenable to adopt a pet anyway, were it not the case."

Dean scratches under his ear. "What? No. Of course, I'd want one. I love animals. Just, no snakes or anything that eats living food. I know you, and you would just end up saving all the mice or something."

"You know, they do make hairless cats and dogs," Sam pipes up, smirking when Dean sends him a side glare.

"Those are majestic creatures, indeed, Sam, but I much prefer the softness of fur. Don't you Dean?"

"What." What kind of question is that?

"Wouldn't you like it if you could have a pet with a soft fur that didn't make you sneeze and suffer so much?"

"Huh. I guess?"

"Good," Cas concludes with a jut of his chin. "His name is Honey," Cas announces, raising the kilt that was on his lap to reveal a…

"What the hell is that thing?" Dean shouts, jumping to his feet.

"Honey is a texel guinea pig," Cas says, cuddling the little beast to his chest. The pet starts emitting a little noise in pleasure as Castiel caresses his fur. It has long curly hair. Its head is black with a white spot on the top while the rest of its body is a mismatch of large black, white and orange spots.

"It looks like a freaking sheep!" Dean exclaims, sending a betrayed look to his brother that is already kneeling next to Cas and petting at the small animal.

"See, Sam, we do have a guinea pig now," Cas says proudly, making Sam chuckle at what is obviously a private joke between them.

"We don't have anything! I'm allergic, Cas, remember? My health…," Dean finishes, faking a cough. Sam rolls his eyes while Cas squints at him.

"I don't think you are, Dean. Honey has been on my lap all night and you haven't shown any signs of allergy. I've looked at you closely to make sure."

"Do you think he likes kale?" Sam asks, taking the little beast on his own lap as he sits on the ground.

"I think he might, Sam. The internet says guinea pigs need to eat a lot of vegetables. Do you want us to go and try to feed him some?"

"Yes!" Sam declares, squeezing delicately the pet against his chest as he gets up.

"But-," Dean tries to protest.

"I bought him a little hammock that he really likes," Cas tells Sam as he gets up too.

"But I haven't-"

"That's cute! I want to see it!" Sam says eagerly.

"My allergies…," Dean finishes lamely as he watches the two other men leave the room without a look in his direction. He scowls, staring at the beer he's still holding. He sulks for all of thirty seconds before he grumbles. "Dammit, I want to see the tiny hammock too. Guys, wait for me!"

**********************

"Oh, that's...that's a nice...tree."

"It's supposed to be Sam," Cas says with a pout, looking at his very first painting.

"Yeah no, I mean, behind him? The big woody thing?"

"That's you," Castiel pouts, looking dejected.

Dean grimaces, inclining his head to try, and identify himself in the glob of paint on the canvas.

"So you're not Van Gogh," Dean finally declares. "Or Mozart. The important thing is that you wanted to give it a try and you did. If you liked doing it, then that's what matters, no matter the end result," Dean tries to reassure, squeezing his friend's shoulder reassuringly. He learned his lesson when his words about Cas' lack of music skill were not so delicate, and the ex-angel ended up giving him the cold shoulder for a whole week.

When he looks back at him, Cas has a small smile on his lips and a look so full of...of something, that Dean can feel his cheeks warming a little. Seconds pass and Cas keeps staring until Dean clears his throat, forcing himself to look back at the ugly painting.

"What's next on your list?"

A hand pulling on his arm makes him turn back toward Castiel. Dean barely has time to react before his friend's lips brush with his. It's so fast and soft that he's left blinking in confusion, wondering if that really happened.

"This was."

Cas is still smiling, even though Dean recognizes the worried line creased between his brows. The hunter opens his mouth, but doesn't know what to say. To say that he wasn't expecting it would be an understatement. To say that he never thought about it, a lie. To say that he regrets it…

"I liked doing it," Cas declares, nodding his head in satisfaction. "Now I want to ride a horse."

"A- a horse?"

"Unless we can still get a camel?" Cas teases, acting hopeful. He sends Dean a wink - a goddamn wink - before he grabs his painting under one arm and leaves the room.

"Ride a...Wait. Cas! We're not getting a horse either! Cas!!"

*************************

When Dean finds him, Castiel is sitting on the bench Dean made from the trunk of one of the trees they had to cut down to make this space into their garden. The sun hasn't set yet, but the end of september's evenings are already colder. The last flowers of the season are blooming, and the vegetables they planted in the spring are starting to wilt, only a few tomatoes popping red among the green and yellowing stems.

Cas is bending forward, forearms resting on his legs. His eyes are closed and for a minute, Dean is worried that something happened, that he's sad or sick. He's reassured when he hears the low murmur of Cas' words, see the slight smile at the corner of his lips, the one Cas always gets when he's trying to be funny.

His friend hasn't heard him approaching yet, so Dean waits, trying not to eavesdrop on a conversation he's not supposed to be a part of.

Dean takes the time to check on the apple trees he planted instead. They're too young yet, too small to give any fruit, but by next year, maybe...He can't wait to bake a pie with his own apples. He rolls his eyes at the thought, that's so domestic. Yet here he is, planning on planting strawberries and raspberries, checking on the squash that is starting to grow and wondering if it'll be ready by Thanksgiving.

Vegetables are Sam's thing. Flowers and the small hive they've built are Cas'. Dean is in charge of the fruits.

They planted their garden over the underground garage, hidden by such a large ply of trees that there is no risk of anyone stumbling upon it by accident. They had to cut down trees, dig out every root, and plow the whole area to prepare the soil. They've spent nearly all spring and a good part of summer working to create that little bit of garden on the Bunker's roof. They've bought so many gardening tools that they're already making plans to build a shed here in the spring.

It's nice. The bunker is feeling more and more like a home, like a place Dean could feel himself growing old in, maybe.

They've talked about buying a house, especially Sam, but somehow they can't see themselves leaving anywhere else than in the bunker. It's their legacy, the place they were always meant to be, and they've come to love it despite all the horrors that happened there in the past.

Maybe it will change someday. Maybe Sam will want to marry someone, to buy a more traditional place with a white picket fence where he can raise kids without fearing that they'll choose a cursed object or weapon laying around as their next toy. Dean has noticed more and more of Eileen's clothes in the laundry, more of her things left behind every time she comes to visit. He hopes it's only a matter of time before he's not surprised to see her at breakfast anymore.

By the time he's checked on the fruit part of the garden, Cas has stopped praying and is observing him. The sun is setting, painting an orange glow behind him, and for a second it nearly looks like Cas has a hallo.

"You told Jack about the horse riding lesson?" Dean asks as he straddles the bench to sit next to his friend. He rubs his hands against the cold, blowing into them to try and warm them up a little.

"Maybe," Cas says with a mocking smile that makes Dean balks.

"Oh, come on, you promise you wouldn't tell anyone about me falling on my ass!"

Cas chuckles at the memory of Dean's horse throwing him into a giant mud puddle. Dean had cursed for a whole ten minutes as he struggled to stand up but kept falling right back on his ass. It made Cas laugh so much that he'd started crying. That's a thing Cas does now, he laughs. He does it more and more, and Dean is amazed by it, every single time.

"Technically, I didn't tell anyone anything," Cas argues with a smirk. He's not wrong. They have no idea if Jack can even hear their prayers now that he's taken charge of and close up Heaven. That doesn't stop them from regularly praying to him, especially Cas.

"You tell Sam and I'll bury your damn guinea pig next to the tomatoes," Dean threatens.

"No you won't," Cas says with a fond smile.

"No, I won't," Dean admits, pouting half-heartedly. He's actually come to like the damn beast. Which no one would actually know if Honey didn't start screeching every time Dean comes near it, calling for the treat that he knows Dean will give him. It was supposed to be their little secret but Honey blew their cover more than once. Dean is still pretending he hates the little ball of fluff, on principle, even though no one is fooled anymore.

"You were right about the horse, I hadn't realized the amount of dejection it actually produces," Cas concedes. "Also, my bottom is sore from the ride," he adds, squirming a little in his seat.

Dean chokes a little on his saliva at the image that brings to mind. Honestly, even without the innuendo, watching Cas ride a horse, hips rising and bending over the saddle, has done quite a number on Dean's libido. If he hadn't been questioning his sexuality before, he would definitely be now. Good thing he already was. Cas kissing him has been the only thing on his mind for days now. They haven't talked about it, and Cas is acting like it didn't even happen, but Dean has barely slept since then, spending his nights thinking about Cas' lips on his, and how he might possibly maybe want to do that again.

"Did you kiss Sam too?" he blurts out. It's not the most subtle or delicate way to bring up the subject, but apparently that's what his brain has chosen to say. Damn you, brain!

"Why would I kiss Sam?" Cas asks, looking genuinely astounded by the question.

"Wasn't that on your list?" Dean asks, scratching the back of his neck.

Cas squints at him like he's the most idiotic thing he's ever seen and, well, Dean probably is.

Dean squirms under the stare, rubbing his hands again, as much against the cold as in nervousness. The ex angel gives a long suffering sigh before he grabs Dean's wrists. He pulls on his hands until they're under his own sweater. Dean is so startled that he just looks at the bulge his hands are making over Cas' stomach with wide eyes, not daring to move his fingers. They're nestled between Cas' tee-shirt and his abdominal muscles. It's so warm under there that his skin is tingling from the temperature difference.

"You're an idiot, Dean Winchester," Cas declares. Dean looks up, and Cas is looking at him so fondly that it makes him blush a little.

"Yeah," he sighs. "I know."

"I must be one too, because I would very much like you to be my idiot for as long as you would have me," Cas confesses, a little shy as he draws patterns on the shape of Dean's fingers over the tissue of his sweater.

"I'm not sure, Cas," Dean says, making the other man tense up. "Are you sure you want to be stuck with me forever?"

It takes a minute for Cas to get his meaning, brow furrows intensely before they relax in realization.

"That was my plan all along," Cas says, his smile so wide it's showing his gums.

And yeah, knowing Cas, it probably was. Cas would have stayed by Dean's side forever whether he was an angel or a human or even a God. Hell, Cas was ready to stay by his side when Dean was turning into a monster bearing the mark of Cain, and when he was a demon. He wanted to stay by Dean's side even when Dean was cruel and screaming at him to go. It was the irony of it all, wasn't it? It always felt like Cas was leaving him, running away for angel business or whatever, but Dean never ever doubted that he would come back. He always knew Cas would come back somehow. After all, even death could never keep Cas away for long.

Dean slides his hands a little higher, making Cas shiver as they travel over his torso under his shirt. Dean's fingers tightens around the cloth, and pulls Cas closer, close enough that their noses are nearly touching.

"And now it's mine too," Dean sworns,resting his forehead against the other man's. He cradles Cas' jaw, passing a thumb under one of his eyes. The stubborn angel refuses to close them, even though they're so close that he's going cross eyed. Still, he keeps looking right into Dean's green orbits and hell, that must mean Dean can't keep his eyes off Cas either

When they kiss, it's sappy and tender and sweet and everything Dean always thought he could never have. The relief he feels makes Dean wonders if it isn't everything he's been waiting for all along, without even realizing it.

Cas is right by his side, as always, and Dean is damn well going to keep him as close as he can for as long as he possibly can. And hey, he knows the guy ruling Heaven now, so that might just be forever.

The End.

#destiel #deancas #dean/cas #dean/castiel #destiel fic #spn fix it #fic #destiel fix it #ao3 fic #Dean/castiel fanfic

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naitiaclo960writings · 4 years

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Day 6 - Mask

(Warnings: Alcohol drinking (consensual tho))

Dean almost cursed his brother for dragging him into this Halloween party just to abandon him ten minutes later for the pleasure of Jessica Moore’s company. Even though they’d been married for two years, those two were still disappearing to go get laid somewhere and Dean really didn’t want to be around when that happened. It wasn’t for him, thank you. And really, a Halloween party? He was over 30 and he didn’t even know that adults were still celebrating this kind of thing like any other Saturday night.

But he was apparently wrong considering the crowded dance floor of that theme bar. Everyone had played along, zombies moving their bodies among vampires, witches and werewolves. Some had opted for more classic costumes such as the nurse near the bar or the clown close of the toilet and from whom Sam would surely stay away. As for the DJ, he was on stage in his pirate disguise, giving the microphone to the beatboxer alien from time to time. The atmosphere was still friendly and it’s not like Dean had anything else to do with his October 31st evening, but he didn’t particularly want to meet anyone tonight.

His Batman costume didn’t seem to be as popular as he would have liked and the only girl who had noticed him all night long — a kind of giant pumpkin stained with blood, nothing very appetizing really — had mixed him up with "this guy from Avengers". Yet his mask was proudly on his face, his eyes surrounded with black make-up, and his cape flew according to his movements as his ears pointed towards the sky. Dean spent $50 on that suit and it wasn’t to be mocked by an uncultivated pumpkin.

Leaning against the bar isolated from the dance floor, Dean sighed, grateful to have at least some alcohol to comfort himself with. He had decided to swallow a few more drinks before going back to his apartment to watch TV when, suddenly, someone came to pull him out of his morose thoughts by bumping into him.

"Oh, really sorry." A low male voice apologized. "I should have looked around before I came down here."

Dean turned his surprised gaze to a man wearing a pretty convincing cowboy suit. Though judging by the wide headscarf on his eyes, he certainly personified an outlaw, a bee pin as a sheriff’s badge. Dean raised his eyebrows, moving to make room for the stranger.

"No harm done." He replied with a casual smile, tightening his grip around his shot of Alabama Slammer.

The cowboy came to take the place next to him before ordering as well, his blue penetrative gaze back on Dean.

"Very successful, the Batman." He said, obviously open to make conversation.

The stranger glanced at him for a moment, from top to bottom, and Dean could not restrain a feeling of pride taking hold of him. He smiled more while turning completely towards his new companion.

"Finally, someone with actual knowledge in this bar!" Dean exclaimed with amusement. "I swear, the next person who calls me 'Captain America' gets hit".

"What, someone dared to make that comparison?" The cowboy marveled in a laugh.

"Oh, you have no idea what I’ve heard." Dean lamented before drinking his shot further, savoring it more than the previous ones. He focused his attention on the cowboy and arched an eyebrow. "Your costume is really cool too, a true rodeo pro with that."

Another clear laugh escaped from the stranger’s mouth, surpassing the music that resonated further on the dance floor. The cowboy’s order finally arrived to him as he answered.

"Me, I don’t know. But William Brooks was certainly a fine gunfighter, that’s right." He replied before dipping his lips in his glass of pure vodka.

Dean eye’s widened, his smile growing bigger and bigger. There were so few people who knew that name, it couldn’t be a coincidence. Of course, for a huge fan of old western movies, the comparison was obvious, but he had to be sure.

"William Brooks as…?"

"Buffalo Bill, exactly."

Dean uttered an exclamation of joy.

"Awesome! Buffalo Bill is one of the best outlaws of his time, his adventures are amazing!" He said as he looked into the cowboy’s blue eyes.

"I know, he is my favorite mercenary!" This one replied in an equally cheerful tone.

Dean felt his night was suddenly changing. Maybe if the cowboy stayed here and talked to him, he might consider staying longer and enjoying the party.

"Dean" He said, raising his glass to the cowboy.

"Castiel." He replied with an easy smile.

They clinked their glasses before swallowing them bottoms up. Finally, without either of them really realizing it, hours —and the shots— flew at an incredible speed. What Dean thought was another tasteless evening turned out to be a very good time as he and Castiel talked. Sam and Jessica even came to him around 1:00 in the morning to tell him that they were going back home and Dean had just said goodbye to them before returning to his exciting conversation with Castiel about the best horror movies. Castiel, to tell the truth, seemed rather cowardly, but he listened to each of his words with particular attention which did not fail to warm Dean’s heart.

Neither of them particularly wanted to dance, happy with their own part of the bar and the distant music as the place gradually emptied. Around 1:30, however, their harmony was disrupted by a third person who was obviously already well drunk. Without being invited, a man in his forties, dressed in a chicken costume, came to interfere in their conversation with a lot of hearty laughter and inappropriate remarks, clearly hitting on Castiel while royally ignoring Dean yet less than a meter away from him.

When the man asked Castiel for his number for at least the sixth time of the evening, he rolled his eyes. Despite all the more or less subtle refusals from Castiel, the man did not seem to get the message and the good mood of the cowboy was gradually flying away as the stranger became touchier. Dean had held himself back until now, not wanting to make a scene and risk embarrassing Castiel, but when the stranger passed a hand stinking of cigarettes around his friend’s shoulder and that Castiel flinched, he decided that it was going too far.

Dean grabbed the stranger’s arm and push him away from Castiel, the man stumbling before catching himself at the bar.

"Hey, man. Get lost. I won’t tell you twice." Dean growled while standing in front of Castiel.

"Wow, easy pal!" The stranger replied, raising his hands in front of him, frowning. "It’s just a fra… fri-friendly discussion here."

It was more than obvious that the alcohol had reached what was left of his brain. Dean did not move an inch.

"Why don’t you go make friends somewhere else, pal?" Dean said in an icy voice. "Get out of here."

Eventually, the man grumbled, but walked away without further ado. Dean turned back to Castiel who raised an eyebrow in his direction. Dean pinched his lips. Great, did he just ruin his chances with him just because he wasn’t able to contain his emotions? Well done Winchester.

"Okay, so it’s not just a costume, is it? You’re a real caped crusader." Castiel finally joked with a happy smile on his face.

Dean relaxed and laughed with him, returning to his place near the bar.

"That’s it, keep laughing. Somebody had to save you from that ambush cowboy." Dean replied, returning to his empty glass.

"Save me, eh? Who says I wasn’t ready to draw at all times?" Castiel pouted.

Dean rolled his eyes.

"No offense, but you could barely aim straight with all the vodka you’ve been drinking." He teases softly, smiling at Castiel.

"Mmh, point for you." He mumbled.

And Dean couldn’t have put it better. Castiel did not stop at this drink and Dean was truly impressed that his friend had not yet vomited the contents of his stomach on his shoes. On the contrary, Castiel seemed to be a happy drunk and, although his words were increasingly incoherent, he also became more tactile. Dean didn’t mind, laughing at his friend’s behavior. He couldn’t really blame him for overstepping his bounds, even a skilled party boy like Dean was sometimes fooled by alcohol.

However, around 3:00 in the morning, the bar began to kick out the last customers and Dean found himself with a drunken Castiel completely slumped against him on a bench in the streets of Chicago.

"And it was just crazy because… because his dog wasn’t even white, you know? And then…

"Cas?" Dean gently cut him off, with a small smile on his face. "I think it’s time to go home. Do you live around?"

Castiel pouted. Dean could not help but think that, even when being completely drunk, Castiel was no less pleasant and attractive. The headscarf had still not left his eyes, blocking his face and hiding it from Dean’s curious gaze. Only two orbs of a brilliant blue continued to stare at him with an absent look, almost swallowed by the black of the pupil.

"… Mmh, maybe?" Castiel mumbled before slumping a bit more against Dean, sleepy.

Dean raised an eyebrow, looking around for his car.

"Okay… Okay, I’ll walk you out, right? What’s your address?"

Once again, Castiel grumbled before shrugging and stared at the pavement with intensity, as if it was whispering all his secrets to him. Dean bit his lip and swore inwardly. It was out of the question for him to leave Castiel alone outside in such a state or to take the risk of calling him a taxi.

"Well, come here buddy."

Dean grabbed Castiel by the waist and guided him to the end of the street. The journey to his car was not easy, but in the end he managed to put his companion in the passenger seat before taking the wheel. Fortunately, the alcohol had already somewhat faded in his system but he took the time to drive slowly. Dean glanced uneasily at Castiel from time to time, now leaning against the window and observing the landscape in silence. He had become mute, which gave Dean time to think.

What the hell was he doing? Driving a completely drunk stranger home was like the beginning of a very bad situation. Was it considered kidnapping? Dean nervously licked his lips after another look at Castiel. They didn’t know each other that well yet, and the last thing Dean wanted was to scare his friend.

But at a closer look, he had no other choice. Castiel was unable to take care of himself at the moment and it was not an option for Dean to take the risk of putting him in danger. What if he ran into the other jerk at the bar and took him home? No, Dean didn’t want to think about it. At least he had a warm bed and painkillers waiting for him at home.

When they reached their destination, Castiel was even more apathetic than when he left the bar. He kept mumbling anecdotes that Dean was supposed to understand as he was helping him up the three floors to his apartment.

A bunch of encouragement and much patience later, Dean finally closed the door of his home behind them. Castiel immediately took an interest in his AC/DC key ring for a minute before looking around. He seemed to frown under his mask.

"Pepper?" He suddenly called.

Dean frowned too. Was Castiel looking for someone? Dean lost some of the color on his face. Was it his girlfriend? His wife?

"Who is Pepper?" He asked without being able to help himself.

Castiel seemed confused for a moment before shrugging and mumbling.

"Goldfish."

This time, Dean really had to hold back a laugh at the stupidity of the situation.

"Okay, well, I’m sure Pepper is doing just fine. Now you’re going to go wash up and go to sleep." Dean sighed by dragging him further into his apartment, shaking his head.

When they arrived in the bathroom, it was more than obvious that Castiel was equally incapable of doing anything without help. Dean sat patiently on the edge of the tub while his friend stared at him with fascination, complimenting every little detail with a slurred voice. Finally, Dean knelt before him and began to take off his boots. Castiel did not protest, so Dean did the same with his socks, his long black leather coat, his belt, his gloves, his hat and everything else until the cowboy was only in jeans and shirt in front of him.

However, the headscarf was still in place and Dean hesitated before removing it. The piece of fabric was large and covered at least the entire upper part of Castiel’s face, hiding what he perceived to be prominent cheekbones to go with his square jaw. He swallowed. Castiel was simply focusing on an invisible spot near Dean’s ear when he finally decided to untie the knot behind Castiel’s face to remove the mask.

If Dean had believed that Castiel’s eyes were mesmerizing until then, it was nothing compared to the irresistible portrait that had just appeared before him. Dean held his breath for a moment while he allowed himself to admire each piece of skin offered to his sight, Castiel totally oblivious of the red appearing on the cheeks of his host.

He didn’t know after how long he was able to get out of this state —"No kidding, stop looking at people like that, Dean, you’re gonna scare him" he told himself— but he managed to get rid of the costume and make-up in turn before escorting Castiel to his room.

His friend was now more than silent, letting himself be pushed around when Dean laid him out among the blankets. The effect was almost immediate: barely wedged in his pillows, Castiel closed his eyes and his face relaxed. He fell asleep a few seconds later after turning to his side. Dean smiled softly, unable to prevent this urge of tenderness from growing in his chest at this sight. As a precaution, he decided to leave an empty basin and painkillers on the bedside table before letting Castiel sleep.

He’d take the couch tonight.

* * *

Dean awoke to the sweet sound of someone puking his guts out in the bathroom. He sighed. He had not had enough sleep to his liking and the filtering light in his living room kept coming to attack his eyes. Aware that he could not go back to sleep anyway, he decided to go and check on his guest. Dean more or less effectively dragged himself to the barely opened door of his bathroom before gently knocking against the wood.

"…Cas?" He called out in a hoarse voice. "Is everything okay?"

The bathroom became silent a moment after his words before a barely human grunt resounded. Dean sympathized with him.

"I know." He replied gently. "The towels are in the right cupboard if you want to take a shower. And, uh, I should have clean toothbrushes in the first drawer. Take your time."

Another grunt, this time softer, rose again from the bathroom and Dean closed the door before moving on to the kitchen. Ten minutes later, he heard the shower turn on.

When Castiel was finally able to appear in the kitchen with a slightly more presentable face, though still sick, Dean had already had time to prepare the coffee and a pancake batter.

"Morning sunshine." Dean joked, glancing behind him and trying not to look at his friend again for hours." Was yesterday’s rodeo a little too much for you?"

Castiel stared at him with wide eyes before coughing. Dean turned around, raising an eyebrow.

"I, uh… Hello." A silence. Dean smiled kindly as Castiel looked everywhere but in his direction. "Okay, this is going to be really awkward, but, uh... did we… you know?"

Dean adopted a confused expression before blushing until the roots of the hairs, mortified. He really had to learn to choose his words more carefully if he wanted to stop finding himself in these kinds of awkward situations.

"No!" He hastened to rectify. "No, by rodeo I meant... Well… You drank a lot yesterday and I didn’t know where you lived, so I drove you here. The only thing that happened was you calling for your goldfish." Dean let out a little laugh. "But you slept in the bed and I slept on the couch. My sore back is proof."

Castiel seemed to relax a little before finally getting closer. He still seemed a bit embarrassed, probably because of everything he had imposed on Dean the night before, but at least his shy smile had come back to illuminate his face.

"Thank you. I would have hated not to remember that if we had spent the night together." He replied by looking up at him, and Dean could already say that it was not really a joke.

"Oh." That was the only intelligent answer he could come up with.

All this had the talent of relaxing the atmosphere while Dean served a large cup of coffee to Castiel, throwing him soft glances from time to time. His friend took the cup between his fingers before blowing gently on the surface of his coffee.

"I don’t know how to thank you." Castiel said as Dean went back to his pancakes. "If I invite you next time, do you think you can forget all the embarrassing things I probably did yesterday?"

Dean felt a pleasant sensation in his chest as a fine smile bloomed on his face. Castiel seemed almost in the right place in his kitchen, drinking coffee as if it was the most natural thing to do in the world. He nodded slowly, feeling his zygomatic pulling his lips up.

"Yee-haw cowboy." Dean huffed.

Castiel shook his head, amused, while Dean was simply delighted to learn that there would be a next time.

"On one condition though." He quickly added.

"Yes?" Castiel asked, curious.

"Undisguised this time."

And just like that, this wonderful laugh was back, filling the room with a light and warm atmosphere.

"Deal."

* * * @winchester-reload Hello! Again, I wrote more than I should have written for this story but I’m pretty happy with the result, even though it gave me a hard time. Hope you enjoyed it!

You can find the whole series on Ao3

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castielle-deanna · 4 years

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Rewind the exit

"Rewinding the exit wound, I'm holding on to you 'Cause I need words like anyone, and I need love like everyone With those words I'm strong enough, and I need love like everyone." (Rewind the exit by Volbeat)

Obligatory 15x18 Destiel fix-it. Partially inspired by the gorgeous art of Jackie @winchester-reload

2408 words. Read below the cut or on AO3

It's over. It took just a day – a painful, grueling whirlwind of a day, but it's finally over. Chuck's gone, the world is back on its axis as it should be, most of its population awoken from non-existence like it was merely a fever dream, but the factory reset was the last one in a row of tasteless jokes and it left things cruelly incomplete.

“Now, I'm getting him back,” Dean says. He doesn't specify whom he means – he knows it full well, and he's certain Sam does, too. “Don't know how, but I will.”

“Dean...”

“Don't. Don't say anything. I have to.”

“You can't start poking cosmic entities again! I know it's Cas, but -”

“You don't know, Sam, you don't!” Dean's voice wobbles as his volume rises, unbidden and unwanted tears gathering in his eyes. “Don't tell me you don't want Eileen back!”

“Of course I do, but not at any cost. We broke the world more than once, only just put it back together, we can't keep doing it over and over again.”

“It's Cas,” Dean chokes out, as if Sam didn't know, even though he said the same words barely a minute earlier. But something must be in the way he says the name, or maybe on his face while he says it, because Sam's frustrated expression softens, but the look of pity that replaces it is probably worse.

“He's your...” Sam hesitates, his loss for a fitting description clear as day. “Eileen...?” He finishes, intonation halfway between that of a question and a statement. Dean nods mutely, because of course Sam knows that, too. Because keeping it to himself is just impossible at this point and there's no real reason to hold it in anyway. “I'm sorry,” Sam says then, and Dean turns his back on him as a form of escape.

Oh, yes, it is worse. Because Sam lost people too, but somehow, his focus is suddenly on Dean's pain and only on Dean's pain. Too much, stop, I can't, Dean wants to yell, but all his energy is gone, sapped away; the way he sinks into the Impala's front seat is barely a thought more coordinated than a collapse into unconsciousness. Temporarily, Sam seems intent on stumbling around the car to take the passenger seat as usual, but in the end he pulls the rear door open, settling in behind Dean instead.

Dean's grateful for the distance, for being out of Sam's sight, and because he wants to give his brother the courtesy he is getting, he doesn't turn around, even when there's barely muffled sobs coming from the backseat. As he listens to the sounds of Sam's slowly subsiding anguish while less than an inch away from the edge himself, he doesn't think that any of it was even remotely worth it. Sure, they exist, and so does Jack, but it can't be called surviving when they lost everything they fought for, and suddenly there are limits to omniscient control that weren't there before.

Now, Jack's the Light, the Darkness and probably a million other things, because of course the Universe would decide to trust a 3-years-old nephilim with that kind of responsibility, but he was still powerless against their loss. All the Apocalypse World refugees are gone, like they never existed – which, technically is true; so are Eileen and C... Dean can't even finish the name, like he's reached the posting limit with the one out-loud use of it earlier. He wonders how he and Sam are still kicking, if anyone who died and was brought back is meant to remain permanently gone, why didn't they go, too, when the reset happened? Dying is not the hard part, staying behind is, if Sam's quieting sobs and Dean's... well, everything are to go by.

Jack appears outside the Impala, a pained expression on his face. He looks smaller than he is, and so, so young. He crouches down next to the open door on the driver's side, looking up at Dean.

“I have no access to the Empty, not without dying. I can't try to bring him back, I'm so sorry,” Jack reports without any preamble, and Dean's entire being feels squeezed. Of course he couldn't.

“It's not your fault, kid,” he croaks out eventually, and Jack nods solemnly in reply before moving over to the back door, opening it. Dean still doesn't turn.

“Sam.”

“Jack!” Sam sounds surprised, almost as if he hasn't even noticed his presence before. There's a rustle, the leather of the backseat creaks and the Impala wobbles slightly. Dean assumes it's because Sam slid over and Jack sat down.

“I found Eileen. She's in Heaven.”

“Is she... is she happy?” Sam asks, his voice pained.

“She is at peace, and in time, she will be happy. I opened up her Heaven, she is free to move around. She was on her way to her parents when I left her. She misses you, and asked me to tell you that she loves you,” Jack pauses, and Sam hiccups. “I offered her a chance to come back, but she knows it may upset the new balance. She decided not to risk it, but she'll be waiting for you.”

A loud wail-like sob breaks out of Sam, and it's too much for Dean to take, so he scrambles out of the car, desperate for air, for escape. With a sudden surge of energy he breaks into a run, blindly dashing past the church Chuck chose as the set for his famous final scene, past crumbling headstones, then trees until he runs out of ground and trips, falling to his knees. The sobs he fought so hard to keep hold of escape, and Dean screams to Heaven, to Hell, to the Empty and all of the in-between till his throat is raw, till all he wants is to curl up against a tree, to sleep, to black out, to d...

“Dean.” Sam's voice is strained. Dean doesn't ask how he found him, doesn't need to. “Let's go home.”

“I can't drive right now.”

“I know. Jack has already mojoed the car home, he'll be back for us.”

* * *

The Bunker is haunted. It's haunted by two faint apparitions of humanity who mostly pass each other by in the corridors like ships in the night, silent and distant.

Dean prays. Every morning, every evening, and most waking hours between the two, he prays. He doesn't know if Cas can hear him, but the faith that he can is all Dean has, so it has to be enough.

It's not enough. Yet Dean clings to it, because if he doesn't have that, he doesn't have anything. He prays out loud, he prays in his thoughts and he prays by touching the bloody handprint on his jacket. It's prayers he mumbles into his whiskey, sobs into his pillow, pounds into the punching bag in their gym, kneads into the dough he keeps making despite barely eating any of the resulting pies.

Sam is slightly quicker to get back on his feet. Dean can still see him wobble, of course he can, and he wants to help him stay upright, but considering himself the stronger brother, the protector, the grown-up, has never before been a lie this big.

When, a few weeks later, Sam suggests a simple hunt, a restless spirit not even strong enough to kill yet, Dean goes along not for himself, but for his brother.

When he lands in a broken heap after being thrown from a third-floor window, and he can see someone - who he assumes is Billie's successor – out of the corner of his eye, beckoning him, he doesn't go along for his brother, no matter how much he wants to, deep down. Everything hurts but he fights, and prays as long as he can stay awake.

When he wakes, nothing hurts but it doesn't feel real. He's back in the Bunker, under the covers on his memory foam mattress.

Someone sniffles just outside his field of vision, and Dean assumes it's Sam, or maybe Jack, but then the someone whispers his name. Dean sits up in a fluid motion, as if a spring wrenched him upright, and he turns his head to see tearful blue eyes.

“Am I dead?” Dean asks, because that's the only possibility, it cannot... he cannot...

“No. You're alive.”

“Am I hallucinating?”

“No, you're not,” Cas says softly and moves closer to lay a hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean feels it. He swings his heavier-than-lead legs around and drops his feet to the floor, one on either side of Cas who stands rooted to the spot, holding on to Dean's shoulder with a tight grip.

“Cas,” Dean whispers and Cas all but crumbles, kneeling down in front of him. “Did you mean it?” Dean asks. There are other questions, hundreds of hows and whys, but this is the most important one, and Dean hopes he doesn't sound as much like a needy teenage girl asking it as he thinks he does. Cas doesn't seem to care either way, judging by the gentle smile on his face.

“Of course. I meant every word. I wasn't planning on telling you all of it, and I'm sorry for dumping it on you like that, but I thought that was my only chance.”

“I should've said it back. But I froze.”

“Dean, you don't have to say anything. When I said that just being in love with you was enough, I meant that too.”

“I know. You said you know you can't have what you want, but you can. You can have it, if you still want... it.” The 'if you still want me' part remains implied. I should have said it back.”

Cas looks taken aback for a moment, then he seems to gather himself. “Do you want to say it now?” He asks, blue eyes wide and bright as he fixes them on Dean's. “I love you.” His voice carries the same warm, earnest determination it did... then, and for a moment Dean can almost hear the squelch of the Empty behind him, until the staccato beat of his wildly thumping heart reaches its loudest, trying to physically fit itself into Cas' palm which by now is resting right above it.

“I love you, Cas.” Letting go of the words is not only easier than Dean expected, but it's also freeing enough to make him understand how Cas could be so happy. Wanting to hang on to that feeling, he opens his mouth to say it again, but the attempt ends up lost between Cas' lips as they paint a kiss onto his.

Dean lifts his hands to cradle Cas' face so he could pull him closer, until it's just right, until it's perfect, actually; and he deepens their kiss then swallows Cas' faint whimper before pulling away, resting his forehead against the angel's.

“If I knew what having feels like...” Cas whispers then trails off, dipping in for another brush of lips, and Dean meets him halfway, wrapping both arms around the angel's shoulders. Cas is solid in his arms, alive and there. Dean can't get enough of it, of him, and squeezes tighter, allowing the kiss to fall into incoordination, because suddenly its importance is only secondary to holding onto Cas. He buries his face into the crook of Cas' neck, nuzzling the column of it, and Cas tilts his head to give Dean space to settle in, which he does, possibly for good. He babbles soundless, unsayable words into the angel's throat; breathes in his scent; sneaks a taste of his warm skin, because he can. Cas' breath hitches under Dean's ministrations, and it continues to stutter while Dean pops the buttons of the angel's dress shirt open, one by one, eventually freeing him from the cloth altogether, dropping it on the floor.

Dean doesn't mean it as a precursor to sex, there's not a hint of lust in his actions, and Cas appears to sense it but he helps Dean out of his layers anyway. The angel's slow touch ghosting its way up his bare stomach is reverent, light... as if he's expecting Dean to flutter away from underneath his fingertips like a fantasy, and Dean's so damn close to breaking he feels the cracks form, so it may just be an actual possibility. Cas' eyes are wrenched shut as he continues tracing patterns onto Dean's abs, over his ribs, every now and then flitting up to his collarbone, raking a blunt fingernail over it. Dean shivers - he has never been touched like this, he's never been loved like this, and it's too much to handle. He closes his eyes to stop the overload, but it makes it worse, because Cas' fingers are the real magic ones, now digging firmer into his sides, then pushing on his shoulders, and he lets himself fall back onto the bed.

Suddenly, the sensation of Cas disappears and Dean panics, eyes flying back open in terror until they settle on Cas standing still above him, intense gaze fixed on him. Cas is trembling, and if Dean thought having the wrath of God on him was intense, he had another thing coming in the love of an angel.

“Come here, Cas,” he mumbles, and makes space for Cas to lie down. When he does, Dean props himself up on his elbow, leaning over him.

Cas sighs. “I’m sorry for the way I left you.”

“You’re back now. That’s what matters.”

“When I heard you d-dying,” Cas falters and he gulps twice in quick succession, “I knew I had to fight my way back.”

“You're something else, you know that, right?”

“I hope that's a good thing,” Cas teases faintly, but his voice is so hoarse with emotions that it ruins the effect. Still, Dean chuckles, moving in to caress Cas' chest.

“I will show you just how good.” He attempts a flirtatious grin but what comes out instead is an almighty yawn. Cas laughs, obviously carefree and happy, his chest heaving under Dean's palm.

“Sleep, my love.”

“My love,” Dean echoes, barely a hint of a question in it, then fixes his mouth to Cas' for a lazy, drawn-out kiss. He fights the exhaustion creeping up on him as long as he can, but it wins out in the end, and Dean lets himself be pulled down on top of Cas, curling up into him in the process.

#Destiel #destiel fanfic #spn s15

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safetypinsymphony · 5 years

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“Is it a plot twist, or is it just lying?” and brief thoughts on the SPN road so far

To paraphrase an exchange from Bob's Burgers: Is it a plot twist, or is it just lying?

This seems to be an evolving theme of Supernatural's Season 15. I haven't been keeping up on my reviews here, dern it, but after some mild kerfuffles I've experienced between various fans (including myself), I'm re-inspired. Or perhaps incensed.

“Writers lie.”

When we first learned that God is a right asshole and as such, opened a rift in Hell before checking out to leave our intrepid heroes to deal with the undead invasion spilling forth—and then decided to check back in just to start fucking with the Winchesters again—I wasn't overly bothered, but nor was I particularly thrilled by the implications. I was begrudgingly interested to see what was evolving.

Well.

Kinda like watching a slo-mo train wreck, as it turns out. We're witnessing how this canon ret-conning is already starting to fray. How playing fast and loose with what the show has established as the rules of its universe is creating this “It was all just a dream” Dallas-esque meta embarrassment.

Seasons back, when the show first shattered the Fourth Wall by introducing the SPN books and conventions into its own mythos, that self-awareness was a really risky move. To this day, you either love it or hate it, but it managed to hold together because of the infrequency with which it was explored, and the skills of the writers at the time. (Even then, we got Season Seven, Time for a Wedding, arguably one of the more tasteless episodes of the whole series.)

As Dabb and company are choosing to further explore Chuck-as-God-and-puppetmaster, one of the show's important thematic cornerstones, that of the value of <i>freewill</i>, is taking a big hit. And the show knows it. They've had Dean come right out and air his disgruntlement with it several times already. So we get it, yeah, it's a thing. It's what Dabb is using to propel this last season (along with rampant fanservice and as many returning characters—dead or alive—that he can shoehorn into 43 minutes).

Now, I do loves me some fanservice on occasion, and there are certainly quite a few characters who died in rather inglorious ways and probably deserved better send-offs than they got, but I'm not sure 'hanging a flag on it' does enough to compensate for what this means in regards to the past 14 years of the show. In asserting that all of the past canon has been little more than Chuck's manipulations, it also means that the viewers' investment into the whole of the SPN universe has been hung on a lie within its own framework. “Ret-conning” doesn't even come close to describing this level of narrative dishonesty. (Wow, that sounded dramatic, but it's kind of true, you know?) By undermining the canon of the past 14 years, the current show creators have made Gamble, Carver and yes, even Kripke unwittingly complicit in this snake oil operation.

If SPN were just a movie, two hours designed from the jump to play out this way, I might think it was a little cheesy but oh well. I'm not that invested. (See 'Cabin in the Woods', which was a helluva fun neo-horror romp, in a similar vein.) But this is FOURTEEN YEARS we're talking here. That's a loooong time to be invested in a narrative, just to have the latest showrunner unseat all the canon that came before him. The only thing that matters one iota now? Season 15. It, apparently, is the only “true” canon. The only canon where “Chuck” is revealing his hand and operating with any in-world narrative legitimacy.

Thanks, I hate it.

I'm not going to pretend I like what Dabb is proposing. The segment of fandom hungry to bust Sam and Dean's so-called co-dependency is pretty stoked about it, naturally; they see classic SPN as toxic and unhealthy (and let's be real, in the way of a certain ship).

But here's the thing that gives me The Feels™, and it's not turning the Winchesters (or Cas, for that matter) into domesticated, well-adjusted Hallmark Channel leading men. (That's what, you know, The Hallmark Channel is for.) And it's sure as hell not invalidating the canon of the show I fell in love with.

It's urban legends, black humor, the endless highways and guttering neon. It's two brothers raised on the fringes of society, their unbreakable fidelity, finding comfort wherever they can since tomorrow, they may meet the business end of a rugaru. It's the colorful characters they meet along their travels. It's Led Zeppelin, greasy spoons and ancient tomes. It's faith and heart and sacrifice.

Unless Dabb dismantles these things too. At which point, a pox upon him and his house. Writers may lie, but this would be universe assassination.

●●●

Oh! I was going to mention some episodes too, lol. Here are a few quick take-aways, since I've already blabbed on enough.

Episode 3: RIP, Rowena. I looooooved the line, “But I believe in prophecy. I believe in magic.” That was SO her. Of course an ancient witch, the most powerful in the game, would live (and die) on those words. And kudos to the show for remembering it put that Sam gun on the mantel in Season 13, iirc. Pretty sure we'll see Rowena again before the grand finale, though.

Big happy for the suggestion that Sam is a witch-in-the-making. Also glad Cas finally got his brain wrapped around the fact that Dean was pissed at him but he didn't need to take it anymore. Dean has some valid reasons to need space from Cas, and it's a handy way to get Cas off doing his own thing (as Misha is not contracted for every episode).

Berens did a solid job writing this episode, but I'm glad we've wrapped the customary 3-episode season premier. I had high hopes for myriad crusty, decaying dead shambling around a grim world, but instead we got a handful of ghosts, literally running around in broad daylight. The first two episodes were … clumsy.

Episode 4: 'Atomic Monsters', was written by my favorite current SPN writer, Davy Perez, and he did not disappoint! Something about the way he writes dialogue sounds so naturalistic to me, and he manages to tap into authentic feelings in the characters without feeling rushed or contrived. I believe his stories. I never get thrown out of his episodes.

The episode was lovingly directed by Jensen Ackles. The guy flat out knows what to give us. That whole beginning red scene, with Dean and his John Wick bad-assery and then … then we get a Sam who has never eschewed his demon blood addiction. It was chilling and gorgeously actualized and I might have watched that bit more than is healthy.

And we got to revisit Becky Rosen, who is now a fangirl—like many of us—but she's grown up and assimilated fandom enjoyment into her daily life. Perez did a great job in saving Becky, as a character. She isn't the butt of anyone's joke anymore. She isn't a dangerously unbalanced fan. She's just … one of us. Thank you, sir.

Episode 5: Fun stuff in this one! Brotherly banter, Sam and Dean dressed as sort-of Fish and Game employees, a brilliant turn by actress Anna Grace Barlow reprising Lilith (no one saw this coming!), werewolf brothers as yet another example of monsters that aren't as cut-and-dried as hunters might like, and more 'visions' from Sam wherein Sam is Lucifer again, and Dean still has the Mark of Cain. YUM.

But there were also a couple some not-so-fun things. The girls glamping in the beginning was just plain silly, the fight scenes had too many jump cuts (imho), but mostly, why on earth would they leave the God gun in the glove compartment of the Impala?? I noted that back when Dean put it in there, Episode 2 I think it was, but I seriously doubt they wouldn't have locked it up safely after that. Please, foo. Don't make our characters stupid.

By episode's end, Dean is clearly frustrated and demoralized by their predicament. It's clear Sam and Dean will be taking turns buoying each other's flagging spirits this season. As co-dependent as ever. I am here for this.

●●●

This post has gone on long enough, so I think I'll hold Episode 6 ruminations for a separate entry, and maybe dish about where we think the series is heading, for a finale. Anyone reading this probably has a numb butt by now. Anywho, thanks for hanging in with me, gang! Talk at you later...

#Safetypin stuff #S15 meta #S15 episode reviews #such as they are #pinch o' salt

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spnsmile · 5 years

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Misha Collins Reason #SPN is ENDEaring

So today on my dash i read the most ridiculous thing... That spn is ending at 15 because of Misha Collins. Ha. Haha. Hahahhahahaha. Aw april fools is over. Stop joking around. So I love the Winchesters, but the brothers wouldnt be as appealing without Castiel. Seriously, they were so filled with angst that by the second season i was hating Sam for hating Dean and hating Dean for hating himself! Dean needed a savior (because who else saves the Hero? Why... A rebel of course!) and i love how Castiel complements Dean and i love how Dean loved Sam and i loved how Sam looked up to Dean. And i love the brothers for always praying to Cas and love Cas' sacrifices. I mean... Hate turned to love because of one barn entrance, y'all better watch it again. Dean needed Castiel period. Team Free Will was formed. I call them the holy trinity. Dean wouldnt be as appealing without his feathery-baby-in-a-trench-coat-husband. Misha balanced J2M with his wit. At the same time, you really think conventions will be that funny without Misha around? You think J2mm could handle fangirls without melting on the spot? How shy do you think Jensen was? And how thankful everyone was that Misha was always there to help him up! You people and your hate on Misha is groundless, tasteless hatred. And Misha potentially pushing a spinoff just to get money? You idiots, he's a philantrophist! He works for the betterment of the world and all your little mind can think is how he destroyed SPN? MAGGOTS deserve way better respect than you people. Anyways. I love Misha. I love J2M. Suckers.

#Misha Collins #castiel #spn #supernatural #spnfamily #misha #jensenackles #jaredpadalecki

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huntertales · 6 years

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Part Two: All Hands On Deck. (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: 4,093. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

You had to admit, you were having your doubts about how well this search and rescue missing was going to go for Samandriel now that the younger was out of the picture for the meantime. You were trying to respect his wishes to have some space between the both of you while he worked out what he needed and get over the terrible thing you had done. But you were resisting the urge each time to call him and beg for him to at least come back whenever you reached for your phone. You didn't like the idea of him sitting all alone in that motel room just sulking and thinking about the good, old days he had with this Amelia woman. Maybe she had saw him again and found out he was in town, making them both wonder if they should try it again. Either way, you didn’t feel right about it.

However you had more important things to worry about than two fighting brothers and the fate of the future. You were in Nebraska with Dean and Cas as your third partner to fill in for the missing brother. Not that he was going to be any good, you bit your tongue and focused on finding Cas' own missing brother. You lightly tapped on the hospital room wall that was being occupied by the man who came in contact with the burning bush that landed him in the ICU with severe third degree burns all over his body. You politely smiled as you tried not to wince at the sight of him lying in the bed with skin that looked raw and nasty, not to mention gauze all over his wounds.

“Mr. Hinckley? Hi, uh, we’re from the Geneva Gazette.” You introduced yourself to the man as you and Dean stepped inside, showing off your visitor pass you got from the nurses’ station. Nothing a suit and a nice blouse could trick anyone into thinking who you were someone important. “I wanted to ask you a few questions about your...uh—”

“Ambush.” Dean said, coming up with the pun he’d been dying to use since reading the article for himself. Your face dropped when you heard his tasteless joke and turned to him to giving him a scolding glare. The man chuckled quietly as he shrugged his shoulders. "You know what they say, laughter is the best medicine."

"Yeah, well...I'd laugh, too," Mr. Hinckley said between clenched teeth, finding it hard to move his mouth from all the gauze wrapped around his head. And the burns around his body made it painful, too. "If it didn't feel like the sun ate my face."

Dean winced slightly when he realized that he might have been a bit insensitive, you mouthed an apology as you gave him another small smile. "It's a metaphor." Cas whispered to you, as if he was making it clear the man wasn’t being too literal here.

"Sorry. Uh, Now," You pulled out a small notepad and a pen to help jot down some notes that would be helpful for future reference as you got to the reason why you were here. "In the police report, it said that the bush talked to you, yes?”

“Yeah, I know it sounds crazy, but, yeah.” Mr. Hinckley said, slightly nodding his head.

“And what did it say?” Cas asked the man.

“No clue.” Mr. Hinckley admitted. “Sounded like klingon to me.”

"Gonna need exact words." Dean told the man.

If Mr. Hinckley could raise his eyebrows, you had a feeling he would. But there was nothing left but a pinkish red muscle that moved ever so slightly from the request. "Are you serious?"

Cas didn't understand rhetorical questions, he thought the man was being literal. The angel leaned over slightly to stare at you and the older Winchester to examine your facial expressions to make sure you were. "That's their serious expression, yes."

You attempted to refrain yourself from rolling your eyes in annoyance, covering it up with another smile as Dean quietly chuckled. "As much as you can remember, Mr. Hinckley," You said to the man. "It would be very helpful."

“Sounded something like…’Sol-voch.’” Mr. Hinckley remembered. “Yeah. ‘Sol-voch-tay.”

You had studied a lot of languages in your lifetime, but it sounded nothing but like gibberish to you. You thanked the man anyway for his help as you jotted down the word, trying your hardest to sound spell it out in your head before making your way out. You made your way out into the hall as you tucked the notepad back into your pocket, passing by a nurse and a doctor on your way out, who seemed wrapped up in their own business to pay no attention to what you were about to discuss.

“Well, what do you think?” You asked the angel. “Mean anything to you?”

"Yes. It's Enochian. It means 'obey.'" Cas explained to you and Dean. You looked at him with a slightly confused expression, wondering why Samanderial would be shouting something about obeying. "I don't know. But the amount of pain an angel must be in not just to manifest through shrubbery but to burn—Dean, Y/N...we have to find him before it’s too late.”

"Okay. Okay, well, look, a sign like that—Alfie can't be too far, right?" Dean thought out loud, stopping for a moment down a deserted part of the hall to discuss the next plan of action. "So we'll just start at the bush and work our way out."

"And look for what exactly?" Cas asked the older Winchester. "Crowley could have him anywhere."

“Well, if we know Crowley, the place will be swarming with demons,” You suspected the king of hell and his obsession with keeping as many meatsuits out for his protection as possible. “So we’ll just drive until we see their ugly faces.”

+ + +

While the plan sounded like a good one, the execution resulted in the three of you spending the rest of the afternoon driving around Geneva looking for anything that seemed like a perfect hideout for a king of hell to torture an angel. Your guess was an abandoned warehouse of some sort that left him a few miles from civilization to do his dirty work. But it was starting to look like a dead end when Dean pulled up to yet another factory that had been abandoned for years. Yet another factory came into view when you spotted it from the backseat of the Impala, giving Cas the luxury of sitting up front since Dean banned the angel’s ability to pop the three of you from one place to another.

“Wow, will you look at that? Our ninth abandoned factory. Ain’t that America?” Dean remarked as he put the Impala into park, presuming all of you were only going to be here for a few minutes. “Hey, what do you guys say, this doesn’t pan out, we head back to that beer-and-bacon happy hour about a mile back, huh?”

“Wait a minute, Dean. Those derelicts, they’re demons.” Cas said. “I can see their true faces.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly as you leaned forward in your seat to see if you might be able to get a better view as Dean grabbed a pair of binoculars to see things more clearly. He spotted three men that looked like nothing more than a few homeless men trying to stay warm around a fire, along with another one on the roof, probably for lookout for any approaching hunters trying to foil his plan.

“Crowley’s got that many hell monkey’s outside, he’s got to have at least double.”

“And angel warding.” Cas added more to the list of problems. “I can feel it.”

"Well, it looks like the three of us and the demon knife aren't going to cut it." You said, knowing this was going to be more complicated than you were hoping for. But it wouldn't be if someone was still here with you like he should be. You looked over at the older Winchester from what you mentioned next. "Hmm. If only we had some extra backup to help us out. I wonder who..."

“I’ll get Sam.” The angel offered.

“No. We don’t need Sam.” Dean said, stopping Cas from vanishing out of sight and grabbing his little brother, the last person he wanted to see at the moment. You gave the man an annoyed expression as the angel opened his mouth to reference the point you made, but Dean cut him off. “Look, if Sam wanted in, he’d be here, okay? Besides, I got a better idea.”

+ + +

Dean’s brilliant plan involved someone that wasn’t Sam, but another person you hadn’t seen in a few weeks after you got him somewhere safe, Kevin Tran. He'd been hiding out from the monsters and civilization to try and translate the demon tablet, or the half that you got away with after Crowley took the other. You and Dean got to Garth’s boathouse, with the help of Cas, in just a simple blink of an eye. While you didn't have the pleasure of seeing Garth's boathouse, you weren't sure exactly what to expect when you found yourself standing on the inside. You looked around to see that it was decent enough for the time being, and from the looks of it, Kevin made himself at home. You spotted the prophet sitting at the table with his back to you, too involved in the work to realize he had visitors.

“Slow read?” You greeted the prophet, breaking his concentration away from his work. You gave him a small smile when he turned around in his seat to see who was speaking to him. However you felt the friendly gesture drop slightly when you noticed how badly Kevin looked.

“Slowest.” Kevin replied back.

Dean looked around the place to see that it sounded pretty quiet, rather surprised to see the lanky hunter who was supposed to be keeping an eye on the prophet wasn't around here trying to greet him with a hug. "Where's Garth?"

“Supply run? I don’t know. Sort of lost track of him when he comes and goes.” Kevin said. He turned back around in his seat to try and get back to translating the piece of stone. “You guys need help with something? I’m working here.”

Cas, who had been observing Kevin for a moment, spoke about his concerns about the prophet in the most blunt way possible. “You look horrible.”

"Cas. How many times do I have to tell you? Don't say the first thing that comes to mind." You muttered to the angel, giving him a look at the remark. Kevin didn't seem bothered too much by it, brushing it off with a thanks before trying to get back to work. While Cas had said it, you were thinking about it, too. You noticed that Kevin looked like he hadn't slept much, along with taking any time for some personal hygiene. "I mean, he's right. Are you okay, Kevin?"

"Fine. I'm just...in the middle of this." Kevin said. You let out a quiet sigh from what was going on with him and the stress that he must be under. Dean asked if there was any luck as he started to walk towards the prophet. "Interpreting half a demon tablet? No. I got nothing."

“All right, well, buck up,” Dean said, jumping straight into the reason why the three of you were here in the first place. “‘Cause we need some more of that demon TNT ASAP.”

“You used it all?” Kevin asked, turning around in his seat to look up at the hunter.

“Yeah,” Dean said, not seeing what the big deal was. “So let’s whip up another batch.”

"Sure. West bank witch hazel, skull of Egyptian calf, the tail of some random-ass newt that may or may not be extinct—" Kevin said, listing off only a few of the ingredients that all of you would need to complete the spell. You realized that this might be harder than you expected, and struck a sensitive nerve in the young man from asking him to do another favor.

“All right, all right, I get it—ingredients are hard to come by, huh?” Dean cut off the prophet, getting the picture that this wasn’t going to be easy as he thought.

“That’s just the first three ingredients.” Kevin told the hunter.

“Give me the list.” Cas said. “I’ll get what we need.”

Kevin went silent for a moment as he stared at the three of you, making it seem as if he was contemplating on helping. A second later you saw him rolling his eyes and turning to a fresh page in his notebook, writing down every ingredient that Cas would need to get in order to make the demon bomb. You watched the angel disappear right after he got the list, starting off his shopping extravaganza. You and Dean were left back on the boat with Kevin to kill the time until he got back. Kevin had translating to keep himself occupied while you decided to see how it was going as you wandered around the place, quiet as possible to keep from distracting Kevin. Dean had no concept of that.

You stood with your arms crossed over your chest as you stared at some scribbles taped to the wall, trying to make sense of it. Dean paced back and forth, waving his arms back and forth, clapping them together. You didn't know if it was your anger towards him or the hormones in your body that was making you grow annoyed with the clapping sounds from what Dean was doing. You tried your hardest to block it out, but after only a few seconds, you reached your breaking point.

“Oh my God. Can you stop?” You asked the older man, rolling your eyes to show him how frustrated you were starting to get with him. Dean stopped like how you wanted, but he stared at you with a confused expression, wondering what he did now to get you pissed off. “Would it hurt for you to sit down?”

Dean did what you asked him to do, but it resulted in him starting at you with a look of disbelief, wondering what he did now to piss you off. “You know you’re like a minefield lately. Don’t know what I’m gonna do next to to set you off.”

“Well, maybe if you stopped being so annoying I’d be fine.” You grumbled underneath your breath, rolling your eyes as you moved your gaze away from him to stare off into another part of the boat. Dean gave you an annoyed expression when you weren’t looking. A silence fell between the both of you for a moment before you felt a familiar churning of your stomach, making you realize what was about to happen. “I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?” Dean asked you.

You barely managed to take two steps before you stopped in your tracks at the question. You inhaled a deep breath from his annoying attitude that seemed to be getting even more under your skin. “To the bathroom.” You said. You managed to leave out the offer if he wanted to hold your hair while you puke your guts out because of his unborn child that was starting to be annoying as their father. “Do you want to join me?”

“No, I don’t want to join you.” Dean said, mocking your question as he rolled his eyes. You returned the gesture as you continued walking again to find out where Garth had somewhere to hide out for a few minutes. Dean looked down at his watch to see what the time was and how much longer the angel was going to be while he gathered up supplies. “I mean, come on. How long does it take to get a calf skull from Egypt?”

Kevin worked for a few seconds longer before he found his curiosity peeking at the argument he hear between the both of you. He dropped his pen to the notebook filled with his writing and turned around in his chair. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

“Yeah, sure.” Dean said. “Shoot, kid.”

"Are you and Y/N married?" Kevin asked, Dean's face scrunched up slightly as his lips stretched into a smile. When he answered no, the kid replied back with a blunt remark that he knew why he was really asking. "Well, you sure argue like an old married couple. And it’s kind of distracting from what I’m doing.”

“You know what—get back to work.” Dean ordered to the prophet. Kevin was already doing just that before he heard the command from the hunter. He slipped on a pair of noise cancelling headphones and turned on his music, drowning out the distractions around him. Dean narrowed his eyes slightly as he approached the kid, wondering if he could hear him after he called out his name. He snapped his fingers at each side of Kevin's head, but he got no response. He felt a smirk spread across his lips as he bent down close to him. “Your mom’s hot.” Dean thought that would surely get a rise out of the kid, but the compliment about his mother went unnoticed. “I’m serious, your mom is one sexy—”

“What are you doing?” Dean felt himself flinch at the sound of your voice, making him realize that he wasn't alone anymore. He turned around slightly to see you standing right behind him, a dirty glare on your face from how he was talking about Mrs. Tran. "You know you’re a pig, right?”

"I just said she was hot—and saying that out loud, I know how that sounds." Dean suddenly realized that he wasn't doing anymore favors of lingering on the subject. "Seriously? What the hell is your problem? You've been walking around with a stick shoved so far up your ass since we left Texas."

You furrowed your brow slightly form his question as you crossed your arms over your chest. “Good thing you’re cute. Because smarts is obviously not in the cards today for you.” You said. Dean took his turn to give you an annoyed glare at the jab you gave him. You rolled your eyes when you heard a phone start ringing. Dean realized that it was his, and pulling it out, you saw his facial expression change slightly from the name that he saw. And you knew exactly who it was. “Speak of the vampire. Might want to get that. See what kind of favor Benny needs this time.”

Dean didn’t say anything. He turned his attention to his ringing phone and answered it, brushing past you as he stepped out for a moment to have the conversation in private. You let out a quiet sigh as you made your way over to Kevin, who had tried to block out the world from his headphones. You disrupted him by lightly tapping on them, grabbing his attention. You couldn’t help but ask about Mrs. Tran at the thought of her now.

“Where is your mom?” You asked him. Kevin lifted up one of the headphones to simply say that she was somewhere safe. Part of you was a bit taken back at what he had done to his own mother. “You kicked your mom to the curb?”

"She was too distracting. I couldn't focus." Kevin admitted to you. He took off his headphones and dropped them to the table as he continued talking. "The angels said I had to go to the desert to learn the word of God, all right? So...this is my desert.”

"Yeah, but your mom's your mom." You said.

“I can’t enjoy a world I need to save, Y/N. I can enjoy it when this is all over with.” Kevin said. You felt yourself staring at him with empathy at the pressure he was under as he held the piece of rock that was the reason why he was here in the first place. And his density according to God. “For right now...there’s nothing more important than this.”

You felt yourself growing with concern as you pulled out the seat across from him and sat down. You placed out your hand to make him put down the tablet. Just because he pushed his mom away didn’t mean you weren’t going to stop looking out after him. “Kev, Rome wasn’t built in a day. We know it’s gonna be a while until we make some progress. And that’s okay.” You told him. “But what’s not okay is you ignoring basic needs like eating a proper meal and sleeping. Don’t become obsessed with this thing. Take some time for yourself every once in a while. Because, honestly, you do look like crap."

Kevin scoffed underneath his breath from your jab at his appearance, “Thanks, Y/N. It's been a while since I've looked in the mirror."

"Hey, if I'm being honest here..." You looked around the boat to see that it was still just you and him so you could tell him how you really felt. "This isn't worth dying over. And I want you to enjoy your hard work when we do get there. You're still young, Kevin. You have your whole life ahead of you after all of this is done. No matter how long it does end up taking. But you can’t kill yourself trying to make it happen. Breaks were invented for a reason. Take one every once in a while, will you?”

You hoped what you said to the prophet might be helpful to him about not making the same mistakes you had made while becoming obsessed with solving a problem. Kevin nodded his head as you let him get back to work. It seemed that your motherly instincts were kicking into high gear early. Not only you did you have to watch over two grown men and an angel, you found yourself now looking over a prophet, making sure all of them didn't do anything too self destructive to screw things up for themselves.At least with the boys fighting it was getting you prepared for the many temper tantrums your and Dean's child was bound to have. Because your patience was sure being tested lately.

+ + +

Some more time passed while you waited for Cas to return with all the ingredients, you found a book to occupy your time while Kevin got back to work trying to decipher the tablet. Dean kept his mouth busy by snacking on some chips he found while continuing to look over the notes that Kevin taped all over the boat. You were a few pages into the book of lore Garth must have kept here to be of some use for Kevin when you heard the familiar sound of rustling feathers. You looked up from the book, expecting to see Cas back from his trip around the world, and he was. Along with someone else.

“I got what we need.” Cas informed the three of you.

“Oh, it’s about time.” Dean said, looking over at the angel. He saw a familiar face, one of his little brother, standing across from the boat. You let out a quiet sigh as you shut the book, having a feeling this was going to be more awkward than helpful. "What's he doing here?"

“Don’t worry, Dean.” Sam reassured his brother that he wasn’t sticking around for long. “Once we save Alfie, I’m out.”

“Oh, once ‘we’ save Alfie. Don’t hurt yourself, Sam. Cas, Y/N and I can handle it.” Dean said, making it quite clear that he didn't want the other man around here. Sam shot back at him, mentioning that the angel didn't think so. Dean ignored the remark, keeping his focus on the angel who brought the unwanted man here. "I told you we didn't need him."

"We need everything, Dean." Cas told the older Winchester. It seemed the angel was growing tiresome of the fighting between the both of them as you were. "And I need both of you, as you say, to stow your crap. Can you do that?"

It was the question that had yet to be answered. You stared at both of the brothers, wondering if their own personal differences were going to get in the way from the work that needed to be done. Having them focus and get to work on the hunt wasn’t the problem. It was what came afterwards that would be.

[Next Part]

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myfuturescratchbook · 6 years

Text

Just like always - Chapter 5

Characters: Dean, Sam, John (mentioned: Caleb and Bobby)

Summary: For the first time in years, Dean lets his hopes go high for an actual birthday. But things never go very well with Winchesters, especially if they are supposed to go as planned.

Word Count: 2213

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Between medical examination and a lot of sleep Dean allegedly needed, it was hard to have a private word with Dad. Finally, he caught him alone when Sam decided to leave the two of them for a bathroom break next morning.

“Dad.”

“Yeah?” He stepped closer from the window he had been standing next to.

Dean swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

A frown appeared on Dad’s features. “What for?”

“For what I said yesterday. For making you worry. And for the hunt.”

“The doctor said there was nothing you could’ve done to prevent the sickness. But he also said that the symptoms should’ve been distinct enough to notice.”

Dean couldn’t meet his father’s eyes, so he settled with his fingers in his lap instead. Yeah, he’d assumed he wasn’t on his top form.

“You should’ve known better to ignore something like this. We don’t always go to the hospital or the doc, but only when we are positive what’s going on. You know about first aid, how you treat injuries. You are well trained. If your body is sending you signals you don’t understand, you go see an expert, you understand?”

Dean gulped, relieved that Dad didn’t seem too angry, for whatever reason. Maybe it was still the aftereffects of Dean’s near-death experience. But his voice was firm, cold, demanding. Something he shouldn’t forget. A lesson. “Yessir.”

Dad sighed, and he continued with a much softer voice. “Dean, I’m sorry.”

Dean’s eyes shot up to Dad’s. He really should avoid nearly dying of fever, it had messed up everything in his already messy world up. “What, why?”

“I broke my promise, although I’ve been preaching you not to since forever.”

Dean had hoped that his birthday didn’t come up. Of all days of the year, he just had to sleep through his birthday. Not that he cared. “It’s okay, Dad. It was just a movie anyways, you couldn’t have known -”

“Maybe. I still broke it.”

“Dad, it was just a little birthday thing, the hunt is more important.”

His father stared back at him, eyes once again cold, like on teaching mode.

“It’s not about what is more important, I shouldn’t have promised if I didn’t intend to keep it at all costs. I didn’t even try it. That’s why I’m sorry.”

Before Dean could say anything, the older hunter softened again and a sincere sorry face looked at him, letting the once so openly loving father shine through, the one not filled with bitterness, the one that had been drowned by the dark and the worries of the world. The one that hadn’t been convinced that all evil was after his family.

These were the moments Dean could see how hard his father was trying. He did care, and he hated this life as much as Sam did, no matter what his little brother thought.

Slowly, a small smile played on Dad’s face, and Dean knew it was mirror of his own.

Suddenly, the door bursted open, announcing Sam’s entrance.

Dean was about to roll his eyes, already half of the rotation, as he recognized what Sam was holding. “Is that…?”

“Yes, it is,” Sam smirked, waving the pie in his hand carefully.

Instantly, Dean’s mouth watered, and his whole body started to crave for the sweet encounter of delicious unhealthiness. “Oh god, finally!” He reached out to the sweetness of his life, making Dad and Sam laugh, probably at his ridiculousness.

“Wait, you idiot, I’ll put it on a plate.”

“Oh Sammy, I don’t need a plate.”

“I know you don’t, Dean, but we do, if we want a piece, right, Dad?”

“Don’t give him too much, Sam, the doctors said he has to be careful,” Dad warned with a playful smile.

“You’re right, Dad, we don’t want him to get sick again.” Sam moved the knife a couple of times before deciding on the size of the cake and putting it on a plate. “That should be enough, right?” He showed the plate, exposing a tiny piece of pie that would certainly not satisfy Dean’s needs.

“Sam…” he growled, but Dad interrupted him with a smirk.

“That’s totally enough, son.”

Dean couldn’t prevent a whine escaping his mouth at the team play that targeted him. “Dad, come on…”

“Actually, Dean, you don’t want a bigger piece.” Sam brought Dean’s and Dad’s plates (Dad’s pie was almost twice as big as Dean’s) and went back to take his own.

“Why not?”

“The doctor said you could become hypersensitive towards specific food if you eat it while being sick.”

Dean took a big bite of his pie. “Why is that a bad thing?” He was already overly sensitive towards pie.

Sam continued explaining with an indifferent voice. “It means you get to hate it afterwards.”

The pie in Dean’s mouth turned into a cold, tasteless stone, and he had to force himself to swallow it, feeling them go down his throat. The next piece he had already on the fork suddenly looked dubious, like the apple that had poisoned Snow White and kept her from making and eating pie for a long time. “What?” He looked at Dad. “He’s kidding, right?”

Dad didn’t laugh. “You think your brother would joke about something like this?”

Dean turned to Sam, back to his father, before his eyes fell on his pies. Nothing could make him hate pie, right? There was no way. Pie was in his blood, how could he-

Just then, both his brother and his father bursted into laughter, his father’s deep chuckles, and Sam’s cackle drowning every other sound. “Dad, did you see his face?” Sam threw his head back as Dad nodded, still shaking slightly.

The stone in Dean’s digestive system vanished, leaving an almost insulted note of the aftertaste of sweet, sweet pie. “I hate you. Both of you.” He munched the last piece on his plate before holding it out for Sam, who was still giggling. “Second treat, bitch.”

“Jerk.”

It didn’t take long to finish up the whole pie. While Dean was unmistakeably the only one to realize the true value of pie, both Sam and Dean enjoyed it enough to not embarrass Dean.

Once their stomachs were satisfied, a comfortable silence fell on the three of them, unsurprisingly destroyed soon by Sam as he started sending equally excited, expecting and forcing looks towards Dad.

Dean chuckled as Dad tried to ignore it, and their eyes met. Whatever it is, just get over with it, Dean shrugged.

Dad gave in with a sigh. “Dean, Sam… and I- we… want to give you something.” He shifted in his seat, clearly already wishing that this moment was over.

“Like… a present?”

“No, a sound beating.” Sam rolled his eyes, leaning over the board of the bed at Dean’s feet. “It’s your birthday, Dean, what else?”

“Shut up, sasquatch.” He looked back to Dead.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, and Sam suggested it, too, and it’s time already that you got one, too -”

“You’ll love it!” Sam jumped up with the excitement of a puppy, rubbing some of it on to Dean.

“You’re sure?”

Sam brought a cocky grin filled with pride and confidence. “One hundred percent.”

Now, Dean was curious. Presents were something Sam wasn’t usually confident in. “Seems like -”

He was interrupted by a movement and a tinkling sound to his right. He turned to his father and blinked and drew back his head as Dad’s hand was too close to his nose. In the fist, the keys of the car were dangling, waiting to be taken by Dean.

“Is it – Is it in the car?” That would be pretty cruel, considering that Dean was still pretty much glued to the bed.

Dad didn’t say anything, just kept holding the keys. “Dad? I don’t understand…?”

Sam made an excited squirming sound, obviously trying to stifle his laughter.

Dean raised one eyebrow. Slowly, he was getting enough. These two had spent too much time together. They didn’t do anything but picking on Dean since he could stay awake for longer than half an hour. What was their -

His eyes fell on the keys again, then on Dad’s face. No. Back to the keys. The keys to the Impala, to their everything. To Dad’s most precious. To Baby.

It couldn’t- they couldn’t- Dad wouldn’t-

But he saw it in Dad’s eyes, the instinctive reluctance, next to the steel certainty of his mind, the conviction about the rightness of his decision.

“The car?” Dean said, whispered, still not daring to believe.

Dad nodded.

Dean’s hand reached out, slowly, with an open palm, and Dad dropped the keys right into it.

“For real?” He knew it was ridiculous, it wasn’t like them to play him like this… But still…

“I couldn’t take care of her the way she deserves it, lately.”

“Now you don’t have to keep your relationship secret anymore, Dean!” Sam exclaimed, and Dean felt blood shot in his face, just with the realization. He had a car, he had the car, Dad had given him his car, his baby! He looked at the keys once again, one last time, and threw his arms around Dad, nearly falling out of the bed, and not nearly as graceful as he hoped it to be. “Thank you, Dad, thank you, thank you!”

Dad gave him a short, firm hug, patting against Dean’s shoulder with his big hands, and Dean felt the strength and warmth spread in his veins.

The moment he drew back, Sam had already thrown himself at Dean.

“Thank you, guys, you’re the best, it’s the best! Thank you!”

Sam laughed as he sat next to Dean’s leg. “See, told you you’d love it.”

Dean felt his mouth meet its limits. He couldn’t smile harder, it already hurt. But he didn’t care. The Impala was his! “I don’t even know what to say, thank you!”

“Just promise you’ll keep it PG while I’m around.”

“No promises we can’t keep, right, baby?” Dean smiled at the keys.

“Take care of her, son,” Dad said, still smiling.

“Of course, Dad. I learned from the best.” He closed his palms around the keys, feeling the shape in his flesh, already too familiar to admit. He gave up trying to explain anything. Instead, he just grinned at his father and his little brother, both of them looking pleased and content, and Dean himself felt like he’d been granted wings.

And everything in their small, hard, dangerous world was perfect again.

#spn fanfic #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #john winchester #gen #the eeeeeeeeend #yeaaay #i've finished my first fic #on tumblr #:)#but there's still an epilogue #a tiny bit of continuation #thanks for reading:)

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coffeeandcas · 7 years

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you asked for a prompt on your ao3, and idk if you want to do it, but one that i saw a while back and can't help imagining as a destiel college au is "a vicious battle over the only left-handed desk in the room"

Here you go! I really enjoyed writing this prompt so thank you :)

AO3 Link

It’s the same old damn cliche. Jock versus nerd. Dean and Cas have been playing this stupid game since forever, and everyone around them is used to it by now. Hell, even Dean’s buddies from the football team just roll their eyes at his little pissing contests with the class dork, instead of joining in and throwing jibes like they did once upon a time. The chess club and debate society never really helped Cas out when it came to verbal sparring matches with the jocks, so nothing had really changed there.

Castiel Collins and Dean Winchester. Castiel, with his shabby clothes, overstuffed backpack, dark-framed glasses and characteristic frown. Dean, with his letterman jacket, toothy smile, cologne a little too grown-up for him, and a girl on each arm. Like chalk and cheese, day and night, summer flowers and winter chill. They knew each other growing up, although Dean usually likes to pretend they didn’t. Cas was a weird, dorky little kid even way back when, but when they were kids things were different. Cas looked up to Dean, idolised him, and Dean had no problem taking Cas under his wing. It was in middle school that they started to grow apart, when Cas started to branch out on his own and pursue his own interests - and high school was when they really started butting heads. They went for months without speaking beyond snarky jibes and irritable arguments, much to the amusement of their classmates. Their text messages after school were bitter and accusatory: Cas wanted Dean’s friendship and acceptance, and Dean either wanted Cas to be cool like him or to butt out of his life. It was an endless, exhausting tussle, but one neither of them managed to let go of. Cas never changed, but he never left either.

Neither of them was oblivious to the fact that the rest of their graduating year called them ‘husbands’ behind their backs. Which, really, wasn’t fair or accurate. It was one kiss, one time, and so what if it happened at prom? They were trying to be ironic, to prove a point. Why could nobody see that but them?

Now, in college, their irritation with each other has blossomed again, and Cas has become more outspoken and dominant as each month passes. It’s like he goes out of his way to cross Dean’s path, and when he does he seems hell-bent on tripping him up and laughing at him. And the big secret?

Dean kinda likes it. He likes the attention. And he likes the memory of that kiss. He likes to think their whole snarky back-and-forths and pigtail-pulling is just a mask for affection. And most of the time, he can convince himself that it’s true.

But not today. Today is the first day of a new semester, and his first social theory class of the term - a class Dean hates and regrets signing up for, especially since of course Cas excels at it and is the teacher’s darn pet. Fucking Cas. He’s thinking ahead to the afternoon, to baseball practice and the frat party he’s been invited to, and his mind is elsewhere. He never actually joined a fraternity, but his teammates always rope him into hanging with them and attending whatever parties and events they throw, so he’s practically an honorary frat brother. In his opinion, it’s the best way to be. The hallways are crowded and he shoves past a bespectacled Fergus Crowley to get to the door before him and finds himself on Cas’ tail. The guy seems to sense him, turns and casts him a dismissive once-over, then heads into the classroom without a single word, not even ‘hi’. Hmph. Stupid dork.

Even with his attention elsewhere - very definitely not on the back of Cas’ neck and the way his dark hair curls and clings to his skin thanks to the sweat brought on by an unusually hot spring - he doesn’t miss it. The one thing he and Cas will fight over every semester until they graduate, and he feels the exact moment that his nemesis sees it too and stiffens in front of him: there’s only one left-handed desk, right in the back corner. And two of them. The only two lefties in the entire year. Shit.

Cas moves at the same time he does, ducking past the girl in front of him and pushing someone else out of the way to get to the back of the room, Dean hot on his tail. He doesn’t want to be stuck with awkwardly managing with a right-handed desk yet again - he’s meant to be the athlete out of the two of them, how come Cas always manages to beat him to it? He’s like Road Runner or something, all thick thighs and lean physique and… yeah. Runner’s body. Dean hasn’t noticed, not really. Not really.

Cas’ bag lands on the chair the same instant that Dean’s palm hits the wooden surface of the desk, and they both yelp in triumph - then a frown descends onto Castiel’s face and he glares at Dean.

“I won, Dean. Your loss. Find somewhere else to sit.”

“No, Cas! You win every time! It’s my turn.” Dean is aware of how petulant and childish he sounds, blushing hard as he realises people are staring and starting to snicker. From somewhere behind him, a girl whispers, ‘lovers’ spat’ and he rolls his eyes before turning and responding with, 'yeah, he wishes!’ It’s only when he looks back at Castiel’s shocked face that he realises it probably wasn’t the most intelligent or appropriate thing to say. He’s about to offer an abashed apology, but a frown descends onto Castiel’s face and abruptly his hand is shoved off the desk.

“Find somewhere else to sit, Winchester. This desk is mine.” The fury in Cas’ gaze is palpable, and Dean cringes away in reaction. Shit. He hasn’t seen Cas look this mad at him since… since… Oh. Right. Since the last time he made a joke about Cas wanting him. That was after a football game and he’d made a similar tasteless joke to his teammates in front of Cas, only to see the other man’s cheeks flare and his eyes brighten suspiciously. Perhaps it’s the memory that makes Dean more irritable than usual, because instead of making a show of ‘oh, all right, let the dork win’ and raising his hands in mock defeat, he reaches over and shoves Cas’ bag to the floor, smirking at the outraged reaction.

“Nah, not this time, Cas. I won, you find another desk.”

“Yeah, screw you, Dean, make me.” Cas snags his backpack and goes to sit down, but Dean takes him at his word with a snipped-out, ‘fine’ and grabs him by the bicep. Then by the shoulder, as Cas resists and tugs away. Then his arm comes around Cas’ waist of its own accord, and he’s bodily pulling him away from the desk despite the surprised yelp he receives in return.

“Dean! Get off me!”

“Let me sit there!”

“No! Let go!”

“Cas-”

“Dean! Ouch!”

They both lunge to sit down at the chair at the same time, and somehow it happens. Cas ends up on Dean’s lap, with warm arms tight around his waist and Dean’s face pressed perilously close to the back of his neck… then, with a creak and a resigned groan, the legs of the chair give way and they both tumble gracelessly to the ground in a tangle of limbs, amid the shouts and shrieks and laughter of their classmates:

“Get a room, you two!”/”Just get married already.”/”Ugh, why can’t a cute guy just fall into my arms?”/”When’s the wedding, bitches?”

That last one was Charlie, Castiel’s best friend, who sits a few feet away at her own desk, chewing gum and grinning like the cat who ate the canary. Dean and Cas lie in a heap, stunned and winded, while people laugh at them and shuffle to their own desks with more oh-so-funny comments. Dean is sprawled on his back with Cas on top of him, and he should be pushing the guy off and growling at him, grumbling about stupid dorks and flimsy chairs and how Cas isn’t his boyfriend and that everyone should just sod off. But he doesn’t. And Cas takes his time getting up, red-cheeked and suddenly shy, and Dean helps him gather the books that had spilt from his bag.

“Sorry, Dean.” He murmurs, too low for anyone else to hear. “You can have the desk.”

“Nah, Cas, it’s fine.” Dean doesn’t miss the way their fingers brush and linger as he passes Cas a book, and his own cheeks flush. “You keep your winning streak. I’ll come out on top next time.”

He regrets his choice of words instantly and expects a backlash. Instead, Cas’ eyes widen and a smirk tugs at his lips.

“Is that a promise…?”

#destiel #destiel fic #destiel ficlet #dean and cas #cas and dean #supernatural fanfic #destiel fanfic #destiel fanfiction #Dean Cas #destiel college au #destiel au

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huntertales · 7 years

Text

Part Two: Everything is Dust in the Wind. (Appointment in Samarra S06E11)

Episode Summary: The reader and Dean seek out Death to help get Sam’s soul back from the cage. Death tells the reader he will help Sam if the reader will agree to act as Death for twenty-four hours. When Sam hears of the plan to retrieve his soul, the younger Winchester decides he doesn’t want his soul back anymore. Sam goes far as enlisting the help of a new enemy to cast a spell to keep his soul out of his body. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 4,855.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

Death might have been the only thing everyone and everything in between had in common; from the monsters you hunted to the billions of humans living on this very earth. Of course, there was an exception to every rule. You, the boys, Cas and Bobby might have been the lucky few to see life after you kicked the bucket. All of you brought back for different reasons, from selling souls to God having mercy on you, to being touched by an angel. For the rest of the seven billion people, they weren't so lucky as you to have nine lives to fall back on.

They were born into this world with no set lifespan, only hope that they would live life to the fullest. Some died in tragic events or accidents. Some were doomed to be killed by the hands of someone else or in gruesome acts that made you shudder from the news reports you read over your morning coffee. Perhaps they lost their battle to a life threatening disease. Or, worst of all, someone thought that their life had no meaning and they decided to end it before they could see things get better. Whatever the case, it was Death who snatched up their souls and sent them off to a better place nobody knew existed until the very end.

You stared at the ring nestled in your palm. It felt heavy in your grip from the responsibilities that it carried, along with the consequences if you screwed accidentally screwed up. For the next twenty-four hours you were on your own. You hadn't been alone in years, not since the boys had their harebrained scheme of getting arrested in order to take down some nasty spirit picking off prison inmates. You did pretty well on your own for those few days, but things were much different back then. Sam had a soul, for one thing. And it wasn't your responsibility to make sure people passed onto the other side for the sake of getting the younger Winchester's soul back from the cage.

"Are you sure you're going to be fine?" You asked the man standing in front of you for what felt to be the thousandth time. You looked up to Dean, your face full of worry as he rolled his eyes from your lack of faith in him. He promised you, yet again, that he wouldn't do anything to harm his brother. "I'm being serious, Dean. This is the first time I'm really leaving you two here alone."

“I promise I’m not gonna murder my brother, Y/N. All of this effort you're putting in would kind of go to waste, don't you think?" Dean wondered. You let out a sigh and took your turn to roll your eyes. You looked back down at the ring as you twirled it in your hand, growing hesitant to go along with this plan. Dean cupped your cheeks with his hands so you could look at him straight in the eye. "Bobby and I will hold down the fort. Go out there and reap some souls."

“You make it sound so freaking easy.” You mumbled underneath your breath. You let out a sigh and agreed with him, thinking you shouldn’t be wasting anymore time. You looked at the man for a moment before you lightly pressed your lips against his for a quick kiss. “Love you.”

"Love you too, sweetheart." Dean whispered. You swallowed as your lips stretched into a forced smile, showing him your hestiance for this plan once more. "Go ahead. We'll be fine. I'll see you in twenty-four hours."

You nodded your head as you stepped away from him to give yourself some space, unsure of what was going to happen when you put on the ring. Letting out a sigh, you placed out your hand, and ever so slowly, you guided the ring onto your designated finger. When you finally put it on, you weren't sure exactly what you were expecting to happen. The change of scenery around you was not one of them.

When you put on the ring you had vanished from the scrapyard you were once standing in with Dean as your company. Instead, you were now standing on a sidewalk in the middle of town. You furrowed your brow as you looked around the place. Everyone continued on with their day as a few looked in your direction, but nobody cowered in fear or ran away. They must have not seen you. Nobody really sees Death coming.

“Wow.” You quickly turned around in your spot when you heard Tessa’s voice come from behind you. There stood the reaper with her hands in her pocket as she stared at you with a look of disbelief from what was going on here. You could tell she wasn’t exactly pleased to be working with you for the next twenty-four hours. “Just let anyone be Death these days.”

“You’re all charm today, aren’t you?” You asked the reaper.

“Let’s be clear so that we get through this with a minimum of screw-up.” Tessa said. She walked past you and began heading off to your first destination on the list of many. “I don’t like this, and right now, I’m not crazy about you either.”

“Excuse me,” You defended yourself against the woman as you quickly followed behind her so you wouldn’t fall behind. “This was your boss’s idea, not mine.”

“True. But you and the Winchesters have a long history of throwing a wrench in everything. So let’s just stick the rules, deal?” Tessa asked. You agreed with her on the terms she was about to set. All though it helped with what she wanted to see out of you. "For the next twenty-four hours you kill everyone who's up."

“I can do that.” You said. “But it would help to know who to—”

“Kill?” Tessa cut you off, finishing your question before you could do it yourself. “I have a list.”

“Let me see it.” You said. The woman chuckled at your bold request.

“No. You touch them, they die, I reap them. Are we clear.” Tessa asked you. You couldn’t help yourself when you rolled your eyes from how she was treating you. You agreed with the terms that heard several times already. “Remove the ring, you lose. Slack off, you lose. Got it?”

“Yes.” You answered her.

“Don’t mess this up.” Tess warned. “It’s not my job to be your damn babysitter.”

"Look, let's just get it out of the way before we do this. I don't want to be here, you don't want me here. Okay? Good. This was your boss's big idea. I'm doing this for the sake of my best friend so he can get better." You told her, wanting to clear the air so there would be no more tension between the both of you. "If it were Dean doing this, maybe you would have your hands full. But I promise I'll work together with you without a problem.”

Tessa wasn't sure how sincere you were about your promise. You and the Winchesters never liked sticking to anything, all though you did just about anything for each other. And from the look on your face, you were dead set on doing what you needed for the sake of poor Sam and that soul of his. Tessa nodded her head forward for the both of you to start walking to your first destination. You weren't sure what was going to be ahead for you on this journey you were about to go alone in this town.

You expected the victims you were about to see old people and a few from an occasional accidents, the normal things that occurred everyday. How wrong you were going to be. Tessa decided to be helpful and gave you a few pointers, making sure you were prepared for routine things she had dealt with during her long time of reaping souls.

“Just so you know, when people die, they might have questions for you.” She said. “Well, you know, not you, but Death.”

“You mean like, ‘How did Betty White outlast me’?” You asked. Tessa looked over at you when you tried to lighten the mood between the both of you with a joke. From the expression on her face, she wasn’t the least bit amused from your tasteless joke. “Yeah. That was a bad one. Sorry.”

“‘What does it all mean?’ is popular.” She said.

“And am I just gonna magically know?” You asked. Tess shook her head no and continued on walking. You scoffed from her lack of help she was willing to give you. “What am I supposed to say? Oh, come on. Give me something to work with here.”

“Suck it up.” Tessa said. “Comes with the gig.”

You rolled your eyes in frustration from how Tessa was treating you, like she wanted to see you fail at this. You didn't want to be here, she didn't want to be stuck with you for the next twenty-four hours. But you knew there was a job to be done. And it would help to know what to possibly expect. Tessa started you off with something a bit simple that you could handle. The both of you entered a convenient store to see a troublesome sight of a man pointing a loaded gun at the owner. You were left wondering who was going to be the first victim here. It was your natural instinct to try and do something, Tessa quickly pushed you back from being the hero.

“They can’t hear you, they can’t see you. Let this play out.” Tessa said. You face dropped as you gave her a look, you asked who who the hell you were supposed to be taking. “Wait and see.”

“You want me to shoot the kid? Hurry up!” The robber threatened the owner. Your jaw tightened as the son of a bitch pointed the loaded gun to the kid who had to be no older than eight as he went to his father for protection. “You think I’m kidding? And don’t forget the drawer under the register.”

The owner listened to what he was being told and shoved the money to the man. But he was smart enough to push the money off the counter and to the floor, making the robber lower his gun for a moment, leaving him vulnerable. The owner quickly pulled out a loaded gun of his own, and when the opportunity arise, he shot the robber point blank in the chest. The gunshot was enough to make the robber go falling backwards to the shelf and fall to the floor. You looked at the sight before back to Tessa, she nodded her head to the dying man on the floor.

You let out a breath and walked over to the man that was now choking on his own blood as it began to fill up his lungs, making it impossible to breathe. Tessa waited for you to do as you were instructed to do so. Instead, you stood there, watching this unfold much longer than it was supposed to. “Hello? Ticktock.”

“He’s in agonizing pain, right?” You asked. Tessa nodded her head, knowing from the sight and the noises the robber was making were pretty clear. You decided to have a bit of fun on this one, knowing well enough it was karma getting back at him. “Give me a minute.”

Tessa knew she had no control over this, so, she begrudgingly agreed. You stood over the dying man for a minute or so, watching as the blood began to form in his mouth, making him choke. You would have let this go on for a little while longer, but you remembered there was a small child here as well. You bent down to the ground and reached out to lightly touch the dying man with the hand wearing the ring. Just like that, you put the man out of his misery.

You pushed yourself back up to your feet and looked over your shoulder to see the robber was now standing between you and Tessa. He stared down at his lifeless body, a look of shock, maybe it was horror, at what he saw. It only took him a moment to realize that he was dead. He looked over at you to ask you a question. Not about the meaning of life, or what was waiting for him on the other side. It was a simple: “Why?”

“Mostly because you’re a dick. What goes around comes around. Enjoy the ride down, pal. Trust me when I saw it’s always hot year round in hell.” You said, having a feeling where the man had sealed his fate for spending his afterlife. Tessa gave you a look before ushering the guy off to see the white light. You let out a sigh, a bit of relief coming over you from what you’d just done. “Well, that wasn’t so hard.”

One person crossed off the list, God knows how many more souls you were to be giving the sweet release of death. You and Tessa continued on across town to the park where you saw people enjoying lunch and the rather warm fall afternoon. Tessa guided you to the second victim of the day, an older gentleman who sat on a bench enjoying a slice of pizza while reading the paper. You noticed from his graying hair and the extra pounds he gained through the years that his health probably wasn’t in the best place where it could be.

“Call me crazy, but this smells like a heart attack.” You said, deciding to take a wild guess for the hell of it. Not even a second later after speaking those words, the pain hit the man without a warning. The pizza he'd been eating fell out of his grip as his hands rested against his chest from the sudden pain that came out of nowhere. You winced slightly in guilt when you saw him fall to the ground as he gasped in pain from the sensation that was happening. "Well, I'm getting pretty good at this.”

You walked over to the man and wasted no time in putting him out of his misery. You bent down and touched him, letting the pain stop, and sending him one step closer to paradise. Sometimes life was shorter for some. But it was just how the cycle went. You let out a sigh and looked over to see the man was standing there. And just like the robber before, he had to ask: "Why?"

"I sure don't place judgement, but don't you think it was the extra cheese?" You asked, nodding your head to the pizza and soda he was munching on shortly before his death. The man agreed, knowing well enough his years of bad eating habits had finally caught up to him. He had to admit, the pizza was good though. "It's time to go. I'm sorry."

Tessa seemed pleased at how quick you were catching on to the rules of things. She took the man by the arm and gave him a warm smile, reassuring him that everything was going to be all right. The man quickly stopped in his tracks, suddenly overcome with the need to ask a question you should have been prepared to answer.

“Wait.” He asked. Your face dropped slightly in sheer panic when you heard his question. It was the one thing you couldn’t say, much as you would have loved to help him. “Will you tell me what it all means?”

“Uh,” You chuckled quietly as your lips stretched into a smile, trying your hardest to figure out something philosophical to say. You suddenly wished that Dean was here to give some witty answer. He was always good at that, or even Sam with his soul. He had always been the best at comforting people at their weakest point. But you were alone on this one. "In the words of a friend; everything is dust in the wind."

“That’s it?” The man questioned you. “A Kansas song?”

"Sorry. Tessa apologized on your behalf for the crappy answer you gave the poor man. “She's new."

You watched as the two walked off to the talk about the better place he would be going before they disappeared from sight. You let out a frustrated sigh as you rubbed your hands with your face, not realizing until right now that, maybe, this wasn't going to be a walk in the park. You mentally kicked yourself for the stupid answer you gave the poor man. You dropped your hands back down to your side and wondered if things were going well with Bobby and the boys. Because you were about to face a challenge that was about to make you question what you’d do for family.

+ + +

You weren't surprised when the next stop on the death express was to the local hospital, a place where the balance of life constantly swung back and forth. You followed Tessa down a hallway to your next name on the list. You were expecting to be greeted with an elderly patient who was hanging on to their last moments of life, someone who was in so much pain they couldn't keep fighting anymore. You stepped inside the hospital room when Tessa guessed an arm for you to go in first. As you looked inside the room, you suddenly stopped dead in your tracks at what you saw. You let out a forced chuckle, thinking this was some kind of joke.

You looked over to the nurse first when she stood next to the hospital bed, smiling as she jotted down a few notes onto her clipboard. Her name was Jolene from her pastel blue name tag with cute teddy bear at the end. A father and her daughter sat on the bed going through old photographs, talking and reminiscing about the good times they shared. You forced yourself to stare at the girl sitting in the bed, the one who was wearing the pale yellow hospital gown and a breathing tube in her nose. You were in the pediatric ward of the hospital.

You looked away from the heartbreaking sight for a moment and to Tessa, forcing yourself to ask a question you didn’t really want to know the answer to. “The dad or the kid?”

“Kid.” Tessa answered. She seemed immune to the idea of taking a child so young from her life. You gritted your teeth and watched as the father and daughter continued on with their activity.

You shook your head and looked away, suddenly feeling sick to your stomach. "Come on. What is she, thirteen?" Tessa corrected you by saying she was twelve. As if that was going to make things better. It only made the weight on your chest become ever so slightly heavier.

The little girl pointed to a picture in the photo album of a young woman smiling; her back was pressed against the wall as her finger was wrapped around the phone cord as she chatted away. "That was your mom, when she was your age." Her father said. You could tell from his sudden somber expression and quiet tone that his wife probably wasn't around anymore.

“This guy have any other family?” You couldn’t help yourself but ask. You didn’t want to know the answer, but Tessa gave it away when she shook her head no. You couldn’t take this anymore. You bolted out of the room and to the hallway. Running a hand through your hair, you peered into the room again, watching the scene that would soon be a memory to a man who would soon lose everything. All thanks to you. “Well, this is awesome.” “What? You thought it was all gonna be armed robbers and heart attacks?” Tessa asked you. You narrowed your eyes on the woman and pointed out the small fact that the little girl inside was twelve, way too young to die. “With a serious heart condition.” You gritted your teeth from the position you were putting yourself in. It was just you, yourself and your reason for being in this crummy situation. You tried to buy some more time as you decided to make things a bit more fun by skipping ahead. “Who’s next on the list?” “Y/N, “ Tessa warned you what you had signed up for. “You have to take her.” “Says who?” You questioned her. “Says Death.” “I’m Death.” Tessa gave you a warning glare to show you she wasn't the least bit amused from your remark, "You know what I mean."

“Who tells that poor bastard in there why?” You asked her.

You tried your hardest not let your emotions get the best of you. You huffed out a heavy sigh and forced yourself not to look into the hospital room again. You wanted a second opinion. You wanted Sam here at this very moment, trying to help you figure out what the right thing to do was. But he was the reason why you were killing people and reaping their souls. All to get him back to the way he used to be. What if you did it? What if you went in there and ended that little girl's life? You wondered what he would say. If it was the natural order of things, or you were a monster for ending a child's life for the sake of risking his life to get him back to "normal."

It was an endless circle of your brain trying to figure out what the difference between right and wrong was. The boys got on your nerves at times, and you might not have always seen eye to eye. But you always could count on them to help you figure out what to do.

“I don’t know. It just is.” Tessa said. “It’s destiny.”

“Oh, give me a break. I spent my whole life fighting that crap. There’s no such thing as destiny, just like there was no apocalypse.” You said, shaking your head from her answer. “It was just a bunch of dicks who didn’t want us human slaves asking questions. Or forcing certain people to take roles they really didn’t want. Well, I say the little girl lives.”

“Do you know what’s amazing? You don’t actually buy a word you’re saying.” Tessa said. You scoffed at her accusation, saying that you very much did so. "Really? All the times you messed with life and death, they just worked out for you? It was just a beach party every time, huh?"

"Please. Don’t you dare act like you know a single thing about me, sister. You have no idea what sort of crap I had to fight just to get here. You can look down on me, you can say whatever you want. But let's get one thing clear. I’m your boss for the day. And I know this much." You told her flat out how things were going to go under your rule. "I'm Death, she's twelve—and she's not dying today."

You looked away from Tessa when you saw the little girl being wheeled off by Jolene. You could see from the look in the girl’s face that she was scared for the surgery she was about to embark on. “Everything’s gonna be fine, Hillary.” The nurse reassured the little girl. “You’ll see.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and looked back at Tessa, acting as if you won the battle with this one. She let out a sigh and let you take this as your victory. She nodded your head to follow her, letting you see your act of kindness play out. The both of you headed down to the other part of the hospital where Hillary was supposed to be getting surgery. Before she went under the knife, she went under some testing, only to find out that she was a medical miracle people saw on TV specials and people prayed for to happen to them.

“Medically, I can’t explain it.” The surgeon said, seeming baffled for an explanation to Hillary's father, who looked like he was on the verge of tears from the news he was hearing.

“So, you’re saying,” He tried his hardest to make sure he was hearing the doctor right so there was so sort of miscommunication, no chance to let himself go up on this high hope before he went crashing back down to the reality of things for his little girl. “He heart just...healed?”

“Couple of times in your career, you see something you just gotta call a miracle.” The surgeon said. “All I know is that I won’t have to operate.”

"Thank you. Thank you, doctor." Hillary’s father said.

You could see the genuine happiness and relief settle into his tired expression. The years of worry that he had carried since his only daughter was born with had paid off, a miracle from the new Death that had a heart of gold for those who deserved to live a little longer.Hillary seemed relieved herself. All thanks to you and not backing down to what destiny wanted. Your lips stretched into a smile as you watched Hillary’s father whisk her daughter off, knowing this was the beginning of a wonderful life for the both of them. For someone else, they wouldn’t be the fortunate one to feel the gut feeling when something bad was going to happen.

Jolene headed down the hall with her purse and jacket, her focus on dialing her husband’s number. She didn’t realize you and Tessa were standing there. The nurse passed right through the reaper. She stopped slightly in her tracks before she stared the call, a bad feeling settled into her gut for a moment. If only she listened to it. Instead she stopped for a moment to make a quick call, brushing off the warning. “Hey, hon. Guess what? I’m leaving.” The nurse said. “No, surgery was cancelled. I’ll see you soon.”

Tessa broke your concentration away from the nurse when she told you there was more work to be done here. You took one more glance at the nurse, smiling slightly as you thought about her being given the chance to have an early night. You followed behind Tessa to find your next victim on the list. As you headed down the hall, you wondered for a moment how the boys and Bobby were doing without you.

+ + +

While you were reaping the souls of armed robbers and saving lives from being cut too short, the boys and Bobby were enjoying a civilized game of poker with a couple of beers. Dean had been thinking nonstop about you and how you were doing. He lost a hand or two because of it. He didn't even care that his brother took the Impala without his permission to supposedly clear his head for a few hours. Bobby worried about you, sure, but you were the most level headed out of the four of them. He didn't have any doubts you would screw things up. Being Death for a day was better than babysitting a soulless man.

“Pair of aces.” Sam said. He laid out his cards for the two men to see. Dean scoffed at what his brother had managed to pull and reached for his shot glass that was filled with whiskey one moment, and disappeared down his throat just a second later.

“You boys want another one?” Bobby asked, lifting up his empty beer bottle as he got up from his chair. Sam nodded his head as he rounded up the cards to shuffle another deal.

“I’m gonna take a leak.” Dean announced. “Be back in a few.”

Sam watched as his brother headed off to the bathroom as Bobby went to the fridge, giving the younger Winchester precious seconds excite this plan. He’d been eyeing that damn wrench all night. Sam ever so quietly pushed himself up to his seat and began walking forward to the tool box that sat right next to the fridge. He thought he was so clever when he snatched it and got ready to swing at Bobby, the true key to making sure his soul would never be in his body again. But he should have known better than to mess with someone like Bobby, a hunter who had saw a few things in his time. And knew how the young man hunted his prey.

Bobby snatched the first thing he could find and quickly acted first, hitting Sam in the skull, knocking him unconscious. The older hunter scoffed when he heard the wrench fall to the ground. "May have been born at night, boy, but it wasn't last night." Bobby mumbled. He headed across the room and dropped down the object he used to knock Sam out. If the young man wanted to make things hard for himself so be it. He grabbed some rope and turned around. Only to find the younger Winchester was nowhere in sight. Bobby let out a sigh. “Not good.”

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huntertales · 7 years

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Part One: Crowley, Your Friendly Neighborhood Demon. (The Devil You Know S05E20)

Episode Summary: The demon Crowley tells Sam, Dean and the reader he can help them find the remaining Horsemen rings so they can trap Lucifer. The reader and the brothers are doubtful until Crowley leads them to Brady, the handler for Pestilence and Death. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 4,763.

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"They will be wasted by famine, and consumed by plague And bitter destruction; And the teeth of beasts I will send upon them, With the venom of crawling things of the dust." — Deuteronomy 32:24

Each horsemen that you had faced put some sort of spell on the people that he’d crossed paths with. For War it was destroying a small town from the inside out, creating chaos and madness that would have ended with everyone slaughtering one another after he tricked all of them into thinking all of the townspeople were demons. Famine had turned one’s personal hunger for something and made them rabid for it, not getting enough until they were dead. Some it might have been food or drugs, for the very few it was sex. For you, it was violence that your other half craved. Sam the demon blood running through your veins. Cas, in a very weird twist of events, had found himself craving meat, to the point he ended up eating raw hamburger to try and crave his never ending hunger. Pestilence was next on the list. The horsemen that would bring infectious disease to the human population.

You thought you would be dealing with early signs of the croatoan virus at this point. And even if he was feeling like he didn’t want to drop that big of a bomb just yet, there were so many other kinds of diseases that were far infections and highly lethal if he wanted to have a bit of fun. All of you could have been dealing with small pox, influenza, or even the black death that had wiped out half the world’s population back in the dark ages. But it seemed Pestilence wanted to start off nice and slow. You and the boys have spent days traveling the western part of the country going through hospitals and following the trail of the outbreak that had filled waiting rooms with runny noses and people hacking their lungs out into crumbled tissues. Doctors were calling it swine flu. You adjusted the disposable surgical face masks and followed behind the brothers down the hospital hallway as they were lead by the doctor who was trying to speak to you while do her rounds as well.

“Check it out—I look like the King of Pop.” Dean tried to be funny as he looked over at you and his brother when he pointed at his own mask. You gave him a look for his tasteless joke as his brother rolled his eyes from how childish he could be. “Too soon? Too soon.”

“Don’t get me wrong—I’m glad the CDC is here, but what we really need is vaccine.” The doctor lead the three of you to the waiting room where you were greeted with the sight of sickly people that took most of the chairs. Your nose wrinkled slightly at how all of them were coughing and sneezing, looking like death from how this flu was taking a toll on them.

“Well, tell me, have you noticed anything unusual about the strain—any signs of behavioral change. Like aggression, maybe?” Sam asked the woman, going through the same questions you had asked the dozen other doctors you had seen over the past week. You had gotten part of your answer from how her brow furrowed at the younger Winchester’s strange question.

“Have the flu victims shown any signs of homicidal tendencies?” You wondered.

“Uh…” The doctor awkwardly chuckled at your set of questions and gave you the rundown of what she had been seeing herself. “Symptomatically speaking, we’re looking at a mild case of swine flu here. Probably add up to a miserable week off work, and that’s about it.”

“So nothing unusual.” Dean said, baiting her for more information.

“Hmm. Day and a half ago, we didn’t have a single case. Now we’re looking at over seventy—the infectious equivalent of a briefcase bomb.” The doctor explained to all of you. She turned her gaze away from the three of you when a colleague of hers came over with a clipboard and a pen, needing her signature on some important document. “So, yeah, I might call that a little unusual.”

“Day and a half?” Sam quietly repeated the woman’s words as he looked over at you and his brother. You shrugged your shoulders, seeming to believe there was a connection going on.

“That’s the same time those statues started crying.” Dean whispered.

“I’m sorry. What was that?” The doctor was caught off guard from what she had heard the older Winchester say. Dean pretended he didn’t know what the woman was talking about. She looked at all of you with suspicion. “Did you just say a bunch of statues started crying?”

“What? Why, no. W-Who would—”

“Who would say that, huh? Crazy people.”

You rolled your eyes from the brothers' attempt at trying to smooth things over from what they accidentally let slip out into the open as they became a bunch of babbling buffoons. You kept your lips pressed together as each of them slowly fell silent, hoping the doctor would let it slide. Her eyes moved back and forth slowly, while she was still a bit puzzled at what they had said, her mind was more occupied about her patients well being.

"Just...get us some vaccine." She said, leaving the conversation at that.

+ + +

The one thing you hated most in life was being right behind the enemy, but still far off to the point where you were eating his dust after he skipped off to the next town to make fall under his little spell. War and Famine weren't that hard. One was smack right in the middle of the chaos he caused while the other strolled in, his own hunger never being satisfied until he ate all the souls of his victims touched by his curse. Pestilence was nothing like his other brothers, he didn't just touch down on one town. He was all over all the place. But it was crafted, like he has a strategy up his sleeve that you couldn’t figure out yet. He was meticulous about where he started and only kept going onwards, not settling for just one state but several, cashing massive wide panic with this swine flu.

You read the headline of a local newspaper of one fatality caused by the flu, an old woman weak a weak immune system, no real surprise there. While you sat in the backseat of the Impala, the boys were talking to Bobby on speaker, who didn't seem surprised at the findings you had come back to him with when he presumed before you could even tell him.

"Let me guess—another steamin'-hot pile of swine flu."

"This doesn't make a lot of sense, Bobby. Pestilence touched down here. I'm sure of it." You said. You looked up from the paper you had been reading and leaned over the front seat, giving your two cents on what you thought was going on with this situation. "I don't know, it's like I can feel his bad mojo whenever we get into a town that's gotten majorly effected in just days."

"Your demony senses tingling now, demon girl?" Dean asked you. You turned your head and gave him a deadpan stare from his joke that hadn't been funny when you first heard it, and it sure wasn't growing on you now. He slowly found his chuckles growing quieter when he realized you didn't find it amusing as he did. "Why is he dealing them soft serve like swine flu when he's got the croatoan virus up his sleeve? I don't get it." "Doesn't matter what the sick son of a bitch is doing. What matters is this is the fourth town he's hit—That we know of—and we're still eating his dust." Bobby said. You rolled your eyes and sat back down in your seat, not needing to hear the same discouraging information all over again. "Did you get anything? We got even a snowball at probable next target?"

"No pattern that we can see." Sam answered, giving more unhelpful information.

"Okay. Hold on." The other line went silent for a moment, you could hear what sounded like the man pushing himself across the room and looking at some papers before bringing the phone back up to his ear." Well, far as I can tell, he's still heading East, So... Head East, I guess." "East?" The brothers asked in sync. "Bobby, we're in West Nevada." You said. You looked out the window to see that you and the boys were driving on a long, empty highway with miles of empty land as your company. "East is practically all there is." "Yeah, well, you better get to drivin'." Bobby said, leaving you and the boys with some much useless advice. You scoffed quietly underneath your breath as Sam ended the call, none of you were particularly happy with how things had been turning out lately. But there was one silver lining to this crappy situation. At least he wasn't unleashing the croatoan virus out into the world just yet. If he did, then all of you would have been screwed. You leaned yourself against the seat and crossed your arms over your chest. The three of you let the car fall into a moment of silence as everyone got lost with their own thoughts. Neither one of you noticed an extra passenger in the car before he spoke, that familiar British accent echoed through the Impala.

“Say...I’ve got an idea.”

You nearly jumped out of your own skin when you heard a voice come out of thin air and break the silence. Dean was spooked himself. He accidentally swerved the Impala as he immediately slammed his foot on the break to counteract what he'd done. The fear went swerving on the road as the tires screeched on the blacktop. Chaos had erupted, but before you realized it yourself, you swung your fist and managed to throw a punch hard enough to stun the stranger. You heard a yelp of pain before you found yourself being roughly slammed against the backseat door. You shut your eyes for a second, stunned from the dull ache that began to settle in your back from the way you had reacted from how the Impala had turned without warning.

When you opened them just a moment later, the stranger was gone, and Sam lunged the demon knife at whoever had been sitting next to you, but all he had managed to stab was the seat. You furrowed your brow and began looking around, wondering where the hell he went.

"Did you get him?" Dean asked, examining the empty highway himself to see if he could find the demon himself. "He's gone." Sam muttered with frustration.

You were about to huff out a breath of your own sense of anger from what was going on here, but it turned into another gasp of surprise when you heard someone knocking on the backseat window. You turned your head to see it was who had suspected; Crowley, the crossroads demon that you had the displeasure of seeing for the third visit. "Fancy a fag and a chat?" The demon proposed a civil conversation with a friendly face. You, however, weren’t smiling ear to ear as you ripped open the door to slide yourself out to join the demon with the boys following behind you. You looked at the demon with a cold and dark expression as you began to walk forward to him, having every intention of punching him again. Crowley threw his hands up in the air to show you that he came in peace. “You’re upset, darling. We should discuss it. Not here, but—”

“You wanna talk?” You questioned him with a low tone. You followed behind him with a close distance as he stumbled backwards around the Impala, trying to somehow get away from you, but he was backing himself into a corner when Dean stopped right where he was heading. “After what you did to us?”

“After what I—What I did to you?!” Crowley shouted. The demon seemed rather surprised at the accusations you were throwing at him. You scoffed and only walked closer to him, getting ready to start swinging again. “I gave you the colt!”

“Yeah, and you knew it wouldn’t work against the Devil!” You argued with him.

“I never!” Crowley defended himself, offended at the accusation thrown upon him.

“You set us up.” You hissed in a venomous tone. You pointed a finger at him, daring to poke him in the chest to prove your point of how pissed you were. You were tempted at the idea of grabbing the knife from Sam to shove the blade straight into Crowley’s chest just to get the job done and over with. "We lost people on that suicide run—good people!"

“Who you take on the ride is your own business!” Crowley said, only adding fuel to the fire. Your eyes narrowed on him as your arm slowly retracted into a fist. It seemed the demon had noticed his mistake and gave you a smile, as if that was going to be enough for you change your mood around him. “Look, everything is still the same. W-We’re all still in this together.”

You pretended to agree with as your lips stretched into a friendly smile, "Sure we are."

You tried your hardest to strike again when your arm swung up to punch the demon straight in the face to try and channel your anger to something useful. But you weren't lucky as you had been before in the car. You only managed to swing at the air when Crowley disappeared into thin air, seeming to catch up to the little game you were playing with him. You furiously looked around, trying to figure out where he ended up. The demon reappeared a few feet away from where you had tried to strike him.

"Call your dog off—please." Crowley almost pleaded with the brothers, not wanting to have another incident like earlier in the car when he dropped down unexpectedly .

“All right. Okay. Easy, Cujo.” Dean said. He managed to catch you by your arm and lightly drag you backwards so you couldn’t hurt the demon. You crossed your arms over your chest to show a sign of good faith. But you stared at the man with a dirty glare. “Give me one good reason.”

“I can give you pestilence.” The demon said.

You furrowed your brow, “What do you know about pestilence?”

“I know how to get him.” Crowley said. You felt your arms beginning to loosen around your waist as you began to look at the demon with a bit of curiosity, wondering what he had to offer. The demon's lips stretched into a smile, seeming to notice that you were starting to slowly warm up to him. And Dean wasn't too far behind from listening to what the demon was trying to sell all of you. "That's got your interest, doesn't it?"

"Are you guys actually listening to this?" Sam cracked a smile, seeming all too amused at what Crowley was trying to do to the three of you. He knew from experience not to trust anything a demon said. As he looked over at you and his brother, the both of you were hooked onto what the demon said. Sam let out a scoff as he was overcome with anger at what was going on here. Dean tried to defend himself, but his little brother wouldn't hear it. "Are you freaking nuts?!"

“Shut up for a second, Sam!” Dean ordered at the other man.

“Shut up, the both of you!” Crowley yelled at the brothers, not in the mood to hear an argument. You couldn't help yourself but let out a chuckle from what was going on here. "Look...I swear, I thought the colt would work. It's an honest mistake. It's all part of the learning process. But nothing's changed. I still want the Devil dead. Well, one thing's changed. Now the Devil knows that I want him dead. Which, by the way, makes me the most buggered son in all of creation."

"My heart breaks for you. It really does." You pretended to be sympathetic as you placed your hand against your chest. "And do you hear that? It's the world's smallest violin playing for you."

"You think this is a joke? They burned down my house! They ate my tailor!" Crowley shouted at you, as if that was supposed to make you feel bad from your sarcastic response. You ended up letting out a laugh from his sad turn of events from going up against the Devil, which only made the demon even more angry. The brothers rolled their eyes from how Crowley was admitting his problems that were very much insignificant to what you had been dealing with all these months. "Two months under a rock, like a bloody salamander! Every demon on hell and earth's got his eyes out for me! And yet...here I am...last place I should be—in the road, talking to Y/N Y/L/N and the bloody Winchesters, under a friggin' spotlight!"

Crowley lashed out his frustration on the street lamp that was just across the way. He lifted up his arm and made the light bulb explode in just the matter of seconds, darkening the street even more. You lifted up an eyebrow when he huffed out a breath. “You done, Napoleon?” You asked him. The demon gave you a look from what you had said, you rolled your eyes from your subtle remark meaning so much more than just his temper. "And here I thought I had anger issues.”

“Come with me. Please.” Crowley approached the conversation more with a softer tone, thinking it might help ease the tension that was starting to form around the three of you. Sam's face only hardened as his brother showed no interest. You tilted your head to the side ever so slightly, wondering what he had to offer you. Crowley rolled his eyes from the lack of progress he was making with the three of you. "Do you want the horsemen rings or not? And before you waste anymore time, yes. I know all about them."

What the hell? Out of any demon you could trust on earth or the fiery pits below, there was something about Crowley that seemed....in an ironic sense, trusting. He was the demon that screwed your entire life over—from the deal he had made with your mother, to the one with you trying to take Dean's spot in hell. Every finger was pointing not to trust him. But he had given you the colt to try and take down the Devil. You began walking to the Impala when you realized the demon wanted to lead the three of you to his whereabouts. As you were about to open the door, it seemed that you had some help. it seemed that you had some help with such an easy task. You turned your head to see that Crowley was being a bit of a gentleman by opening up the door for you. Sam didn’t seem all amused when he gave the demon a dirty look.

“Manners maketh the man." Crowley said. Your lips stretched into a smirk from how Sam tossed the demon a dirty glare as Dean continued to roll his eyes, knowing he was doing everything that he could to suck up so you wouldn't lose your temper with him. Out either one of them, you were Crowley's biggest threat about getting killed if he didn’t cooperate. "Off we go then, shall we?"

+ + +

Home, sweet home. You and the boys followed the directions Crowley had given you to some abandoned house in the middle of what appeared to be nowhere. A perfect hideout for a demon on the run. You slammed the door shut behind you and followed behind when the demon lead the way to his humble estate. What lacked in curb appeal made up for the tasteless graffiti left on the chipped painted walls when you stepped inside. You let out a low whistle when you wandered into the house, taking notice of the rundown house with its broken furniture and boarded up windows. This was very far from where you had first met Crowley in his luscious and manicured lawn with his mansion filled with priceless antiques that you had defiled. You still didn’t feel the least bit sympathetic for how his life had turned into a polar opposite of what it used to be.

“Here we are—my life on the lam. How the mighty have fallen. Single-pane glass, used contraception in the fireplace.” Crowley said, giving a quick overview about how tragic his life had turned out since your last visit. He walked over to the fireplace, and with just a flick of the arm, he set a fire to warm this place up. “The water damage alone—”

“My heart’s bleeding for you.” You cut him off, having heard enough of his pity party. You were here to discuss the important matters that he had promised, like trying to find out where pestilence was. “Now, how do you know about the rings?”

“Well, now…” Crowley said. “I’ve been keeping a close eye on you and your boys.”

‘We got hex bags.” Sam said. “We’re hidden from demons.”

“All about one,” The demon corrected the younger Winchester. He pointed to himself, you gave him a confused expression to what sort of trick he had up his sleeve. “That night you broke into my house, our first date, my valet hid a tracking device in your car—a magical coin that easily trumps your little hex bags. It allows me to hear things, too—and, my, the things I’ve heard. Sure has kept me quite entertained on these cold and lonely nights.” A chuckle fell from Crowley when he looked back and forth from you and Dean, giving the slightest hint. Your face grimaced as you looked away, rolling your eyes from the invasion of privacy that you hadn’t thought of yourself. “So you want to cram the Devil back into the box? Cunning scheme. I want in.”

“You said you could get us pestilence.” Dean said, bringing up the promise the demon made.

“Well, now...I don’t know where pestilence is, per se.” Crowley inhaled a breath as he slightly corrected himself. You watched as he began walking across the room, stopping after a few steps so his back was turned to you and the boys. "But I do know the demon who does. He's what you might call the horsemen's stable boy. He handles their itineraries, their personal needs. He's who you want—believe me. He'll tell us where Sneezy's at."

"Well, how do we get him to spill?" Dean asked. "Rip out his toenails?"

“No. Nuts at his pay grade don’t crack. We bring him here, then I sell him.” Crowley said. Sam looked at the demon with a bit of a funny expression, not believing a demon could lure another into making a deal. “Please. I’ve sold sin to saints for centuries. Think I can’t close one little demon?”

"All right, if you're so great and powerful at this," You crossed your arms over your chest and asked, "Where's this demon of yours?"

+ + +

You cocked the shotgun back into place when you had shoved all the salt rounds you could fit into the chamber and put it into the duffel bag, making sure you were prepared for your meeting with Pestilence’s stable boy, who so happened to have a job in the pharmacy market. It didn't surprise you at all the horsemen had his hand in the practice. Sickness could have caused a nationwide panic. And he had the cure everyone would be begging for if he began spreading something that was found to be incurable. Kind of like the croatoan virus if you weren’t fast at stopping the Devil. You had been kicking a close eye on Crowley. While you didn’t trust him with your life, he had proved himself useful, in ways that Ruby never was. He might have sold you into this role, but he was trying his hardest to retract all his handy work.

“Why are we even listening to him, guys?” Sam asked. You let out a sigh when you were about to reach for another gun to load, only you were stopped when the younger Winchester began to bait for another argument about the matter. The three of you were alone, Crowley off in his little house, doing whatever demons do. The man seemed skeptical from the start to trust him, and he was only bringing his opinions up yet again. This is totally insane.”

“I don’t disagree.” Dean muttered as he shoved a magazine clip into his pistol.

Crowley slapped his hands together, signaling his presence in the room after overhearing the conversation that was about him. “One big happy family, are we, then? Fantastic.”

"Ready to go, grumpy?" You asked, tossing another weapon into the bag and tucking the demon knife into the waistband of your jeans for safekeeping.

“Yes. Yes I am.” Crowley answered your question that was directed to Sam. You ignored what had happened and adjusted your shirt so the knife would be kept hidden for now. But as you were about to take a step forward, the demon pointed a hand to the younger Winchester. “Sam, keep the home fires burning. Sam’s not coming.”

“And why the hell not?” The younger Winchester questioned the demon.

“Because I don’t like you...I don’t trust you. And—oh, yes.” Crowley walked forward to the man as he began listing off a few reasons to keeping him benched. “You tried to kill me.”

“There’s no damn way.” Sam argued. “This isn’t gonna happen!”

“I’m not asking you, am I? ‘Cause you’re not invited. I’m asking you and your little boy toy over there.” Crowley pointed his finger directly at you, shifting the conversation so all eyes were now on your impending answer. “What’s it gonna be, darling?” Sam looked at you with his infamous bitch face as Dean was tempted to answer for you, but he remained silent. You rolled your eyes from the decision that was being forced upon you. Crowley took your silence as a nonverbal no. "Gentleman, lady...enjoy your last few sunsets."

Crowley decided that none of you didn't his help anymore. You watched as he began walking across the room and to the doorway, and while you were tempted to let him walk out there, you knew what the right thing to do was in this situation. "Wait," You called out to him. Crowley stopped in his tracks, curious to see what you had to say. His lips stretched into a smirk when he heard you speak those two words. “We’ll go. Dean and me, I mean.”

“Y/N,” Sam whispered your name in a warning tone. “Really? You’re smarter than this.”

“What can I say? He's like family to me. And he is part of the reason why we're even in this mess, too. He's partially responsible.” You reminded the man as you nodded your head for Dean to grab the duffel bag. You began walking across the room to catch up with Crowley, all while Sam’s eyes followed you, a look of disapproval never left his face. You turned around and pulled out the knife. “Don’t worry, Sammy. If he pulls any move, I’ll make sure actually stab him this time.”

“How comforting.” Crowley muttered underneath his breath.

You gave the demon a smile when you passed by him, heading for the Impala first to claim the passenger's side seat as the two men followed behind you. Sam watched from the porch as the three of you climb into the Impala, and just in the matter of seconds, headed off to find this demon. If there was anything that Sam knew for sure, it was never to trust a demon from his own personal experience. They told him things that lured him into doing making the wrong choice and screwing things up even more. Maybe that's why he found himself growing a less trustful of you each day. Until he knew there was a way to get you back to normal.

Maybe what his brother had said back in the panic room had some truth to it. Maybe you were going to be his reason to saying yes to the Devil.

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huntertales · 8 years

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Part Three: Left Handed People are the Spawn of Satan. (I Believe the Children are Our Future S05E06)

Useful Links: Last Part | All Episodes Word Count: 5,513. A/N: I couldn't help myself, I had a bit of fun with the title for this part. (Yes, I am left handed. I thought it'd be amusing to add a little myth into the story.) And, after four seasons, we're finally at the moment I've been waiting for. You could say the cat's out of the bag. I really hope you enjoy this, the last part should be out soon!

You and the boys arrived back at the motel just after sunset, you were exhausted from the long trip back and forth across the state, and the information that was digesting inside of your head. At first it seemed unlikely it was possible Jesse could be demonic, he seemed like a sweet and innocent from the few minutes you've spent with him. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe your judgment was playing tricks on you, making you think Jesse was just another child who had no idea the power he was capable of, and everything was just a pure, innocent accident. Maybe, just maybe, he was an evil little thing who was having a bit of fun, perhaps pushing his abilities he was growing into and and with the help of his demonic mother she turned him into the perfect liar. Your hunter instincts would have believed that. But it was the other side, the one which made you look for the best in everyone, that made you believe Jesse was a kid who had no idea what he was doing. You followed behind the boys into their motel room to grab the case file you left on the table before heading off to your own room so you could get out of these stupid heels. The light was turned on by Sam, stopping in the doorway for a brief second so he could figure out where he was going. He noticed right away there was somebody in the room, but a second later, you leaned over the boys' tall frames to see it was the angel himself occupying by the silence, waiting for you and the boys to arrive back. Cas sat in the corner of the room with his position facing the doorway. He must have popped in when you left him the voicemail and waited in the darkness of the room until then.

“I take it you got our message.” Sam said, heading for the table as you and his brother walked inside.

“It's lucky you found the boy.” Cas said. entire world.

“Oh, yeah, real lucky.” You remarked to the angel, shutting the door behind you as you finally took the chance to kick you heels off in the direction of one of the beds, not particularly caring where they had ended up. “What do we do with the boy?”

Cas responded not a second later, “Kill him.”

You accidentally stumbled in your footing from the answer, making you roughly lean against the door, Sam tugged on his tie to loosen it, but he stopped dead in his tracks. The brothers stared at the angel with absolute bewilderment, but it was you who questioned his motives, not knowing you were about to open Pandora’s box. All of the years you kept it hidden, now, thanks to Jesse, it would all be put on the table for discussion. “What?”

"This child is half human and half demon, but it's far more powerful than either. Other cultures called this hybrid cambion or katako." Cas explained to the three of you. He still had a few things to learn about keeping secrets and finding out when the timing for admitting dangerous information. You felt like you could sink into the ground and dismiss yourself for the rest of your life. And knowing Cas, he wasn't done talking, he just had to continue talking, dragging your name through the mud without even saying it. "There's only two cambions known in the entire world. Jesse is one of them. You might know him as the antichrist.”

Sam opened his mouth and ask the question that made your fingernails dig into the splintered wood in nervousness, "And what about the other one?"

"The other cambion is far less powerful than the antichrist, but still plays an important part to the apocalypse. All of you understand that Lucifer could only be freed if he had an anchor, per se, that keeps him grounded on earth. It was intended for a way for him to understand the creation of humanity. But Lucifer made a creation that was part human and part demon. With both of these cambions together in the same town, who knows what they could be capable of." Cas decided to give the boys a bit of a history lesson of information they had already learned before. You inhaled a deep breath as you watched the angel turn his gaze away from the boys, and almost felt like time was moving in slow motion, you made eye contact with his icy blue ones. "That's why Y/N needs to leave town. She's the other cambion. With her and Jesse together, who knows what either one of them are capable of."

Just like that, the word was out, and you’ve been called a lot of things over the past few years. Most of them was mutt. You first heard it from the infamous demon, Meg, you brushed it off nothing more than an insult she used to get under your skin. But then as time progressed more, and the layers of the apocalypse with the plans Yellow Eyes had intended, things started to become more clear. You learned more things about yourself, and came to terms with the idea that you weren't...well, all that human. Part of you never wanted to tell the brothers, you were afraid of their natural reaction, and what might come after it. You've had dreams about this very particular moment, too. Mostly they ended with them kicking you out, abandoning you forever. But when your anxiety skyrocketed and things became too emotional for you to handle, the dreams turned more deadly, you would wake up in a cold sweat when one of the boys killed you in cold blood when your nightmare ended.

Silence wasn't a good sign. You were at least expecting Dean to chuckle to himself, thinking Cas must have gotten some bad intel as Sam jumped for your defense from the harsh accusation. But the room was dead silent. You could only hear your pounding heart against your chest, it was beating so loud, you wondered if it was going to leap out of your chest. After what felt like a lifetime, you finally gathered the courage to stop staring at the carpet and faced the man you loved and your best friend. You were honestly expecting cold and disturbed looks from hearing this information, but when you looked in the Winchester's direction, you were rather surprised to see them so...calm.

When you looked a little further into their expression, you noticed both of them looked uneasy, but it wasn't the kind of look that seemed like they were disheartened by the news. They seemed more like they were guilty of keeping a secret themselves, and it was finally out. But the act only lasted for a few seconds, only before they jumped back into their normal selves, doing the exact behavior you expected after the information processed in their minds.

Dean chuckled to himself as he shuffled around in his footing, trying his hardest to act as if what he just heard was a bad practical joke the angel was playing on him. "Come on, Cas. We've been hearing a lot of different stuff these days from angels and demons. That's a harsh accusation you're throwing Y/N's way."

“Dena's right. We can't trust everything we hear right now." Sam added, jumping to your defense, just the way he would. He thought about how you were brought into this world, by a demon deal no less, it would make anybody think it might lead to a child that wasn't fully human. “It's like saying....all left handed people are the spawn of Satan."

“I don't understand. Y/N is left handed. And she is, per se, a spawn of Lucifer. He demanded her to be made. But that has no correlation with one another. It's just a pure coincidence." Cas furrowed his brow from what the Winchester brothers were saying. You covered your face with your hands from the conversation that was turning south, and going a direction you didn't know if you should laugh or start cringing at everything that was happening all at once. "All of you have known the truth for quite some time. Why are you still lying to one another?"

"Wait. You...The both of you knew?" You dropped your hands to your side again from what you just heard. You looked over at the boys, your face scrunching up in anger at what Cas had just said. The boys immediately dropped their gaze to the floor and, just like that, their guilt was coming back. "Let me guess, this is some 'See no evil. Speak no evil' crap, isn't it?"

You were tempted to hear their side of the story to get some deserved answer, but before anyone could make eye contact, you found the tension in the room ease up the slightest from what happened next.

Slowly, you looked away from the brothers, and to the table where Cas had innocently taken a seat across from Sam. You furrowed your brow when you heard a farting noise coming from the direction of the angel. Cas tried to adjust himself in his seat, hoping it would stop, only it continued on for a few more seconds before the room fell silent. "That wasn't me." Cas defended himself, knowing he wasn't capable of human bowel movements, or in the need for them. He lifted himself up from the seat to pull out what appeared to be a deflated whoopee cushion. Your face fell as your eyes wandered over to the older Winchester, knowing he was to blame for the tasteless prank that must have been intended for his little brother.

"Who put that there?" Dean innocently asked, trying his hardest not to smile. You rolled your eyes in frustration, suddenly overwhelmed with anger at what was going on here.

"Anyways, I don't get it." Sam turned his attention to the angel sitting in front of him. "You're saying Y/N and Jesse are the Devil's kids?"

"No, of course not. Your bible gets more wrong than it does right. Y/N and the antichrist are not Lucifer's children. This child is a demon spawn, as Y/N has a soul almost close to a demon. It would take far less torture for her to become a full demon like other human souls. But with the demon blood Sam has given you and the previous torture in Hell you've endured from Dean, it's likely you're capable of powerful things, Y/N." Cas explained more infromation to you about things that you didn't know. You found yourself subconsciously crossing your arms over your chest, your hand resting against where you could feel your steadying heartbeat. "But the antichrist is one of the Devil's greatest weapons in the war against heaven."

"Well, if Jesse's a demonic howitzer, then what the hell's he doing in Nebraska?" Dean asked.

"The demons lost him. They can't find him." Cas said. "But they're looking."

"And they can't find him because..."

"Because of the child's power. It hides him from both angels and demons." Cas said. You could feel his eyes slowly linger itself over to you, as if you might give the little boy's whereabouts out to the things you wanted to protect him from. "For now."

"So, he's got, like a forcefield around him." Dean said. He was trying his hardest to think of the positive from all the information he was hearing, and give advice that might help steer away from the plan that would cut a child's life short. "Well, that's great. Problem solved."

"With Lucifer risen, this child grows strong. Soon, he will do more than just make a few toys come to life—something that will draw the demons to him." Cas warned all of you. "The demons will find this child. Lucifer will twist this boy to his purpose. And then, with a word, this child will destroy the host of heaven."

"Wait, wait, wait a second." You stopped the angel, suddenly finding all the information that you were hearing all at once overwhelming for you to handle all at once. "You're saying that—that Jesse's soul purpose is to to take out all the angels?"

Cas nodded his head, "We cannot allow that to happen."

You and the brothers did a lot of things that were frowned up in a civilized society. They drank too much, stole from the innocent, had countless people die in their place and so many other things that kept you up at night. But there were things that you would never do. And what Cas was asking of you, that wasn't one of them. You pushed yourself up from the door and walked forward to the table, protesting this idea before the boys could.

"Wait, wait, wait—Wait a minute." You shook your head, nervously you let out a quiet chuckle from what was happening all at once. You felt lightheaded as your nerves were getting the best of you, making you speak first before your brain could process what might lead to fatal consequences. "We're the good guys. We—We just don't kill children."

Cas didn't like your answer. You heard the legs of the wooden chair scrape against the floor, and before you knew it, he was right in your face, not backing down from the plan he suggested. "A year ago, you and the Winchesters would have done whatever it took to win this war."

"Funny. A year ago, you would have nuked an entire town to save just one seal." You argued with him, pointing your index finger directly into his face. You weren't going to back down from him. Whenever it seemed you and Cas were getting along, a situation always made you butt heads with him and put all of you back at square one. "Things change. I always thought you did. But looks like I was wrong. You're still the same ignorant, spineless son of a bitch that wants to kill anything that is just a bit different."

"I didn't kill you."

"Yeah, because I served a purpose for everyone. Jesse doesn't."

"Okay, okay. Break it up you two." Dean jumped into the argument before either one of you could start throwing punches. You didn't realize your fingers wrapped themselves into a tight fist before Dean reached out and gently placed a hand on your arm, pulling you away from the angel. You let out sharp breath, your eyes never leaving Cas as the both of you stared at one another. "Look, we are not going to kill him. All right? But we can't leave Jesse here. Either. We know that. So..we’ll take him to Bobby’s. He’ll know what to do.”

“You’ll kidnap him?” Cas speculated. Dean looked over at his brother, shrugging his shoulders as the both of them contemplated about the plan of action that sounded decent in their mind. But Cas knew that was dangerous for all of you. “What is going on in this town, it’s what happens when this thing is happy. You cannot imagine what it will do when it’s angry. Besides, how will you hold him? With a thought, he could be around halfway around the world."

"So we—”

"So we tell him the truth." You cut off the older Winchester, knowing out of anyone in this room, you were exactly like Jesse. And you knew how scared he would be if someone was coming after him with black eyes or someone from above he probably was made to believe was supposed to be the good guy. You were thrusted into this lifestyle without someone explaining what you were. You had to learn the hard way, but with this, maybe you could make things different for Jesse. "You say Jesse’s destined to go dark side—fine. But he hasn’t yet. So if we lay it all out for him—what he is, the apocalypse, everything—he might make the right choice.”

Cas turned his head to look at you. The room fell to a complete silence for what felt like forever, until, the angel spoke up. "You didn't. None of you did."

"I didn't know what I was. Nobody told me before it was too late.That's why we're here." You said, not falling for the petty jabs he was throwing your way. Cas stared at you, not saying a single word, but you could tell from his facial expressions that he didn't change his mind. He was going to actually attempting at ending a child's life early. "You touch a single hair on his head, and I swear—”

You tried your hardest to change the angel's mind before he would do something that could haunt him forever. You wanted him to open his mouth and agree, deciding what you had said was good enough for him to believe. But it wasn't. When you blinked, you noticed a gentle breeze touched your cheeks, and nobody was standing across from you. Cas was gone. You clenched your fingers into a tight fist and hissed a few inappropriate words underneath your breath.

+ + +

You and the boys didn't waste a second before you were heading back to the Turner residence. You didn't even wait for Dean to park the car properly before you were ripping open the backseat door and running across the street so you could make it to the front door before it was too late. The boys followed behind just seconds after you, but you were the first one to put your hands on the door handle, where you hoped it would be magically unlocked. But you found that Jesse was smart enough to keep it bolted up. You were about to pound on the door to make him open up, but before you could, Dean decided on a much quicker effort. You were yanked backwards, and before you could question of what Dean was trying to do, he swung up a leg and broke down the door without breaking a sweat. All of you headed inside, fearful that you might have been too late.

You walked inside the living room, keeping yourself at a slower pace, but you frantically looked around the room hoping to find Jesse safe. You turned your head just in time to see the little boy in the corner of the room, with the expression on his face, something happened while you were gone. Your lips stretched into a smile as you let out a sigh of relief, happy to see that he was unharmed without a scratch on him. As you approached the little boy, you made to proceed with caution, still keeping in mind of the warnings Cas had given you.

"Was there a man here? About this tall?" You asked the boy, keeping your voice fairly normal as you gestured the estimated of the angel's height with your arm. "In a trench coat?"

Jesse nervously answered your question by pointing a shaky finger to the ground. You furrowed your brow slightly from what he was doing, but you followed where his finger pointed. Glancing down to the floor, you noticed there was something just a few feet from where you stood. It almost appeared like an action figure of some sort. You took a few steps forward and grabbed the toy from the ground so you could take a further inspection of it. When you took notice of the facial features and what it was wearing, you noticed not even a second later that it was Castiel. He was turned into a toy. Your mouth parted open ever so slightly in surprise as your eyes jumped to the little boy, who looked more scared at what he'd done than anyone in this room.

For a moment you were overcome with confusion at what was going on here, but when you realized Jesse was still staring at you, his eyes just as wide, you decided it was best to take your plan of action. You composed yourself and offered Jesse to take a seat on the couch, he was safe. Dean took ahold of the new action figure, Cas, and stared at it for a few moments. Jesse walked over to the couch and took a seat, he watched as Dean stared at the small plastic toy before putting him up to the fireplace for safekeeping.

"Was he your friend?" Jesse asked all of you.

You pointed your finger at the toy, wondering if that's what he meant. "Him? No, he wasn't."

"I did that." Jesse said. He stared at the boy for a few seconds as his brow furrowed. "But how did I do that?”

This was the part where you dreaded the entire car ride here. You looked away from Jesse and to the boys who were standing right next to you. All though you wanted to tell him the truth, you couldn't risk the chance of having him get angry and do something far worse than turn all of you into toys without a chance of getting you back to normal. So, you decided to take a swing at this, telling him the truth in the most gentle way possible. You took a step forward to him and crouched down at his level, you gave him a smile at the little white lie you were about to tell him.

"You're a super hero, Jesse." You told him with an exciting tone, and when he looked at you with surprise, you could feel your smile growing, and your heartbreaking for what you were really trying to say. "Yeah. I mean, who else could turn someone into a toy? You're Superman—minus the cape and spandex. See, my partners and I," You gestured to the boys with a nod of your head, "we work for a secret government agency. It's our job to find kids with special powers. In fact, we're here to take you to a hidden base in South Dakota, where you'll be trained to fight evil."

"Like the X-Men?" Jesse asked, you nodded your head with eagerness.

"Exactly like the X-Men." You reassured him. Jesse chuckled as he started to smile with excitement, which was a good sign for you. "In fact, the guy we're taking you to—he's even in a wheelchair. You'll be a hero. You'll save lives. Sounds like fun, right?"

Before you could get an answer from Jesse, the perfect moment you'd been trying to build up was ruined, by an unwanted guest that had been gone for the past eleven years. You turned your head at the exact time an invisible force thrusted Dean into the air, all before pinning him against the wall.

"They're lying to you."

That voice, you'd heard it earlier this morning. You quickly jumped to your feet and grabbed Jesse by the arm, hiding him behind your body when you noticed it was Julia, but from her black eyes, she wasn't here, it was the demon that possessed her all those years ago. Sam was about to attack the demon, but before he could, he was in the same predicament as his brother. "Stay right there, dreamboat. Can't hurt you. Or, your little friend here. Orders.” You narrowed your eyes when the demon turned her attention over to you for a moment, all before her focus turned to Dean. "You, on the other hand? Hurting you's encouraged."

Your hands wrapped tighter around Jesse's shoulders as you watched Dean suddenly fly across the room, heading face first into the wall, all before being slammed into the other wall again, joining his brother. "Leave him alone, you black eyed whore!" You spat at her.

"Language, Y/N. Didn't your mother ever teach you manners?" The demon asked. You gave him a cold stare, but it only lasted for so long, all before you found yourself being roughly thrown against the wall when the demon flicked her wrist, wanting to see her child after all these years. You inhaled a deep breath and watched her every move. But the demon didn't dare hurt the boy. She just bent down to his level to finally inspect every little detail on the boy's face. "Jesse. You're beautiful. You have your father's eyes."

"Who are you?" Jesse asked in a quiet tone.

"I'm your mother." The demon answered with a warm smile.

Jesse shook his head, "No, you're not."

"Mmhmm. You're half human," Julia stood up to her full height to prove her point to the little boy as her eyes flickered black, "And half one of us."

"She means demons, Jesse!" Dean warned the little boy.

But it seemed the demon didn't like the interruption coming from the Winchester, she reached out a hand to silence the boys, and by that, she made sure it was hard for them to speak by clenching an invisible force around their throats. She looked over at you, daring to see if you would test her limits, you only glared at her from your position.

“Those people you call your parents—they lied to you, too. You’re not there's—not really.” Julia said. Jesse denied her claims by telling the demon that his parents loved him. She dared to question what he thought to believe was the truth. "Is—Is that why they leave you all day? Because they love you so much? These people—these imposters—they told you that the tooth fairy was real and that your toys could hurt you and a hundred other things that aren't true. They love you so much, they made your whole life a lie. Look into your heart, Jesse. you've always known you weren't theirs. You've always known you were different. Everyone has lied to you." Whatever chance at gaining Jesse's trust seemed to have vanished when the demon looked over at you and the boys, dragging you into this mess. "They're not FBI agents. And you're not a superhero."

"Then what am I?" Jesse asked.

"You're powerful. You can have anything you want." The demon said, trying to persuade Jesse with a lifestyle that would come with a deadly cost. "You can do anything you want."

"Don't listen to her!" You tried warning him, but before you could say anything else, your head roughly banged itself against the wall. The demon snickered to herself at what she’d done.

“Don't listen to Y/N, Jesse. She's a traitor to her own kind. You're so much better than her. Nobody trusted you. Everybody’s lied to you. Doesn't that make you angry?” The demon asked a simple question, and she gotten a response that made her happy. Jesse wrapped his fingers into a tight fist, and before you knew it, the entire room felt like it was rattling. You nervously swallowed as you looked around to see that even the lights were flickering. "See? It does make you angry. But I'm telling you the truth, Jesse. Wouldn't it be better if there were no lies? Come with me...and you can wash it all clean. Start over. Imagine that—a world without lies."

Jesse was slowly getting worse. You watched as the fire that was quietly going began to grow even more as the objects around the room rattled, a few vases broke as the family picture hanging right above you slipped from the nail it was on, and went crashing to the ground. Glass was shattered across the ground as the happy family stared back at you. "She right. We lied to you." You spoke up, your eyes jumping to the little boy as you gave him an apologetic look. "But I'll tell you the truth. I just want to tell—" You tried your hardest to speak, but suddenly your words were cut off by the demon. Her eyes turned black again as she pointed an arm at your direction, making it feel as she wrapped her fingers around your throat, squeezing it to the point where it was getting harder to breathe. But you worked through the pain, wanting to finish your throat. "the truth."

"Stop it." Jesse ordered at the demon. And with the simple vocal command, you felt yourself inhale a breath of air, suddenly feeling the pressure around your throat disappear. You managed to push yourself to your feet when the invisible force holding you down vanished, too. Jesse watched you with a curious look in his eye. "I want to hear what she has to say."

"You're stronger than I thought." The demon said.

You waited for the demon to try and make an attack, but when she remained still, you pushed yourself to your feet and focused all of your attention on Jesse. "We lied to you. And I'm sorry. So here's the truth." You said, deciding it was time to let it all out. "I'm Y/N Y/L/N. These are my best friends, Sam and Dean Winchesters. We hunt monsters."

"Except when you are the monster." The demon said. "Right, Y/N?"

"And that woman right there, her name is Julia. She's your mother. But the thing inside of her, the thing that you're talking to," You explained to him, ignoring the taunting voice. "It's a demon."

"A demon?" Jessed asked, you could hear the confusion in his voice.

"She's done nothing but lie to you since the moment you met her. Don't listen to her." The demon tried to persuade Jesse, she was only getting on your last nerve. "Punish her."

"Sit down and shut up." Jesse commanded. A chair from across the room suddenly flying forward without anyone touching it. The demon fell into the chair, and while she tried to speak, nothing came out. She was pinned to the chair and turned mute from Jesse's command. You slowly looked over to him, suddenly nervous for what you were about to say to him, afraid how he would react.

"There's, uh, kind of a..." You tried explaining your hardest to an eleven year old about the apocalypse, but it seemed harder than you thought it would be. "It's a war between angels and demons, and...you're a part of it."

Jesse furrowed his brow, making you presume he had no idea what you were talking about, and how dangerous he really was. "I'm just a kid."

"I know. And I understand how hard this is for all of you. You can go with her if you want. I can't stop you. No one can. But if you do," You warned him about the consequences with a gentle voice, trying your hardest to make this easy as you could for him. "Millions of people will die."

"She said I was half demon." Jesse said. "Is that true."

"Yes. But you're not alone. I’m just like you." You told him, admitting the truth that you had been trying to hide from yourself for too many years. "We're half human, too. You can do the right thing. You've got choices, Jesse. But if you make the wrong ones, it'll haunt you for the rest of your life."

"Why are you telling me this?!" Jesse questioned you with his voice breaking, you could feel your eyes suddenly watering at what you were putting him through. It was bittersweet, but you knew it needed to be done. You walked over to him and crouched down to his level.

"Because I wish someone told me what I was when I was your age. If they did, a lot of people would still be alive. I could have made the right choices, but I didn't. I need to make sure what happened to me doesn't happen for you." You said. You reached out and gave his shoulder a light squeeze. "I'm sorry you've got to go through this, Jesse. I really am."

You dropped your hand to your side, allowing Jesse to process and take the information as what you presented itself to be. You wondered if he was going to get angry again and lash out at all of you, but instead, he took you by surprise. You watched as Jesse turned his attention to the demon. He clenched his fist, and with a simple verbal command, he exorcised the demon. You watched as the cloud of black smoke escaped from her throat, all before disappearing into the fireplace, escaping into the night. You heard the loud thumping of bodies hitting the ground, finally after being kept in the air, the boys were free from whatever force that was keeping them there from the demon. You turned your head slowly to see how they were dealing with all of the information. For some reason, you found Dean's reaction the most important, almost as if you were afraid he was going to look at you differently from what he found out tonight.

"How'd you do that?" Dean asked Jesse, he replied with shrugging his shoulders. The older Winchester, being the man that he was, cracked a smile as he gave a compliment that would only be appropriate from him. "Kid, you're awesome."

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huntertales · 8 years

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Part One: Two's a Party, Three's a Crowd. (Free to be You and Me S05E03)

Useful Links: Last Part | All Episodes Word Count: 3,503. Warnings: Mentions of very light smut. A/N: New episode! And it's acutally out like I promised myself. The very was beginning was sort of a little fun thing I decided to add in since there hasn't been many Dean/reader moments lately. It's not bad as you think, but skip over if you don't feel comfortable reading. I hope you guys enjoy!

A trail of clothes lead from the motel room door to the bed where you had been spending for the past half an hour. Your jeans laid abandoned on the floor along with Dean's work boots to keep them company. His navy blue jacket that was stained with a bit of the vampire's blood he beheaded from your last hunt, and complained the entire ride back of needing it to be cleaned, wasn't a lost thought as it remained draped over a chair. All Dean could think about was enjoying this moment with you, and getting you undressed. You felt a shiver run down your spine when you felt his calloused and rough hands slowly draw his grip around your hips away as they slowly glided down your thighs, enjoying the feeling of smooth skin against his own. You let out a gasp in surprise before finding yourself smiling against Dean's lips when you felt him grip your ass, pushing you closer for another kiss.

You and Dean had gotten back from a hunt almost an hour ago with the plan of just calling it a night. But one thing lead to another, sleep ending up becoming the last thing on your mind with the adrenaline pumping itself through your veins. Dean didn't waste a single second when you stepped into the room, both of you fumbled quick as you could of ripping off each other's clothes until you were left in a tank top you were wearing underneath a flannel shirt, with missing buttons after Dean got ahold of it, and your favorite undergarments. Dean abandoned his green button up shirt and shimmied out of his faded blue jeans after years of washes. Now he laid underneath you in his boxers and a black shirt, which you were desperate to get off of him.

You could hear Dean's music playing in the background from the music player that you gotten him back in January when you decided it was time to update him to the twenty first century for this thirtieth birthday. All though he would never abandon his most cherished cassette tapes hidden underneath the passenger side seat of the Impala, you made it a bit easier to get himself lost in the music, and fuss when you complained about changing the song in more than just the driver's side seat. But you couldn't find a single fault when Warrant's Cherry Pie came on full blast, Dean's lips stretched into a smirk as you sat yourself into a sitting position from his waist.

“We forgot to lock the door In walks her daddy Standin’ six foot four He said you aint’ gonna swing With my daughter no more.”

Your hands reached down to grip the edges of your tank top to start taking it off, and while Dean was enjoying every second of this, he found himself looking away for just a second when he noticed something reflect in the mirror right across from the bed. He leaned slightly over as his eyes wandered over to the front of the room, presuming his mind was just playing tricks on him. But wasn’t the case at all, for there's a very familiar man standing in front of the bed.

"Cas?!" Dean yells on the top of his lungs in absolute shock. He quickly shoved you off of him and pushed you to the bed, he grabbed part of the motel sheets and tried to wrap them around your body, trying his hardest to pretend an angel hadn't caught them in such a vulnerable state. You feel yourself blushing the deepest shade of red a human could produce when you realize what was going on and what he almost had seen happen. Cas stood there with the most calm look on his face, with just a tad confusion of what the fuss was all about. "Dude, don't do that!"

Cas greeted the both of you with a nod, "Hello Dean, Y/N."

You pushed yourself into a sitting position and let out a frustrated sigh, knowing the peaceful night in you had planned out was ruined. You leaned forward and turned off the music, letting the room fall into silence for a moment. Kicking a foot out of the covers to get dret dressed, you stopped yourself when you realized your pants were near the front door, where Cas was. In order to keep this situation from being less awkward, you remained as you were.

"Hey, Cas?" You asked him, making the angel turn his attention to you. You twirled your finger around in the air and gave him a smile. A second later he seemed to have gotten the hint you were trying to make, he awkwardly turned to face the corner, giving you and Dean a moment of privacy. "Thanks, bud."

You got yourself out of bed and quickly scrambled to get your jeans off from the floor. You dressed yourself once more and slipped on another shirt buried in your bag after the one Dean had ruined laid too damaged for possible repair. Dean finished himself up by slipping on his green button up from the ground and began rolling up the sleeves to his elbows. "How'd you find us?" Dean asked, his hand subconsciously rubbing his stomach to feel the bones of his ribcage. "I thought we were flying below the angel radar."

“You are. Bobby told me where you were.” Cas answered. You let out a scoff and sat yourself back down on the bed. Cas fell silent for a moment as he began to observe the room, seeming to notice there was something off here, for there was one person missing. "Where's Sam?"

You wondered the same question yourself. The younger Winchester disappeared the same day after he announced the hunting lifestyle was too much for him in the wake of what happened. It was the only answer you had gotten out of Dean after asking him at least fifty times in the week since his brother's strange departure. Three weeks later, you stopped the nagging him, but you remained persistent at leaving Sam messages and emails, not quitting until you got a reply to know that he was okay.

While the constant worry of his whereabouts lingered in the back of your mind, you found yourself slipping into the routine of hunting once more. You and Dean remained You and Dean worked together on hunts like nothing was wrong. Sure you had managed to wrap up at least five different hunts without Sam's help, it wasn't easy. There was the lack of another brain to help with research, and another pair of skilled hands when the hunt went wrong on the slim chances it did.

"Me and Y/N decided to take that romantic honeymoon we've always wanted. Sam decided to take a separate vacation from us for a while." Dean said, explaining the situation with a tasteless joke to add some lightheartedness to the situation. He fixed the collar of his shirt and turned around to face Cas, curious for why he was here. "So, did you find God yet? More importantly, can I have my damn necklace back, please?"

"No, I haven't found Him. That's why I'm here." Cas said. "I need your help."

"With what—a God hunt?" Dean asked, taking a presumption of where this conversation was going. "I'm not interested."

"It's not God. It's someone else." Cas answered. You pushed yourself up to your feet and raised your brow, asking him who. "It's an archangel. The one who killed me. His name is Raphael."

You fell silent when you found yourself becoming interested to see where this had to go, Dean, meanwhile, decided to crack a witty joke after hearing the name. "You were wasted by a teenage mutant ninja angel?"

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, but Cas didn't seem to understand the reference when he continued on with the conversation. "I've heard whispers that he's walking the earth. This is a rare opportunity."

“For what, revenge?” You asked with a bit of of hesitance. "Word of advice, I wouldn't even try. You might get what you want in the scheme of things, but the consequences are totally a bitch. Trust me, I think Dean and I would know."

"No. Information." Cas corrected you.

Dean scoffed at the angel's lousy sounding plan as he shook his head, "So, what—you think if you find this dude, he's just gonna spill God's address?"

"Yes.” The angel said with seriousness. “Because we are gonna trap him and interrogate him."

"You're serious about this?" Dean asked, Cas nodded his head a moment later. You glanced away from the angel and looked over at the hunter, from the look on your face, you seemed rather curious to see where this could go. "So, what—are we the three musketeers again, is that it? Are we just gonna hold hands and sail off this cliff together?" The angel stared at Dean with a furrowing brow, seeming to, yet again, not understand the humor from the supposed joke he was trying to make. Dean rolled his eyes once more in frustration. "Give me one good reason why Y/N and I should do this.”

“Because you’re Michael's vessel, and no angel will dare harm you.”

“Oh, so now I’m your bullet shield?”

"I need your help, because you and Y/N are the only two who will help me." Cas tried again, but this time, you could hear the pleading in his voice from the resort he was put into. Your expression softened as you tilted your head to the side, one of the few signs that you were beginning to fall for this little pity party the angel was trying to show. Dean tried his hardest to disagree with the plan, he wanted to stay away, far away from any angel business. "Please."

Dean tried to keep his guard up for a few seconds longer, somehow hoping he could get himself out of this mess before it started. But you glanced over at him, and by the narrowing of your eyes, he knew there wasn't a chance you would let him get out of this one. Cas had done a lot of things for you, the least either one of you could do was return the favor. "All right. Fine." Dean agreed, knowing well enough he was outnumbered in this argument. "Where is he?"

"Maine." Cas answered. He reached up both of his arms, "Let's go."

“Whoa, whoa!” Dean backed away before Cas could press his two fingers against his forehead. You furrowed your brow in concern and asked him what was wrong. But his answer made you regret ever asking in the first place. "Last time I got zapped someplace, I didn't poop for a week. We're driving."

You shook your head from the information that you could have gone without hearing from the man for your entire life. You loved the man to death, but you had your questionable moments. "And the mood is officially gone." You muttered underneath your breath.

+ + +

Six hours later, a new motel, along with a change of clothing, you and Dean arrived at the police station in the late morning with Cas sitting in the backseat. You found this situation a little strange to have an angel sitting where you normally would, but Dean said it would be safer if he acted like a human, popping out into thin air wasn't exactly a good idea. The Impala was parked safely against the curb before you got yourself out of the passenger's side, your heels hitting the empty street as your eyes wandered to the police station that was just over the way. You tugged at your skirt and made the necessary fixes to your outfit like you normally did, Cas gotten out himself and slammed the door shut, Dean glared at him from how rough he was with Baby.

“We’re here why?” Dean asked, finding it rather odd to be starting the search off here.

"A deputy sheriff laid eyes on the archangel." Cas explained as he circled around the car to where Dean was standing.

“And he still has eyes?” You couldn't help yourself but ask. Cas didn't answer, you presumed the conversation would be better if you moved onto more important questions. "All right, what's the plan?"

"We tell the officer that he witnessed an angel of the Lord. Then the officer will tell us where the angel is." Cas explained with the utmost serious expression. Yet, despite the plan he must have thought was brilliant, you found yourself trying your hardest not to laugh as your lips stretched themselves into a smile, thinking this was some joke. Cas, however, didn't find your reaction very appropriate. "Isn't this how you and the Winchesters solve cases?"

"No, Cas. That's how you get yourself a weekend stay at the mental ward in the hospital. You're seriously gonna walk in there and tell him the truth?" You asked him, Cas nodded his head. You let out a very quiet sigh as you shook your head. Reaching a hand into your pocket, you pulled out a badge for him and inspected it for a moment before deeming it just right for him. It was an old one of Dean's, but if the deputy looked pretty quick, it might be decent enough to pass. Cas asked why his plan wouldn't work. "Because we're humans. And when humans want something, really, really bad..." You reached out and opened up his suit jacket where you slipped the badge inside. But he couldn't walk in there like a man coming home from a stressful day at work. You quickly did up the top button of his shirt and fixed his tie so it was neat. "We lie."

Cas looked at you with a confused expression, "Why?"

"Because," You stepped back to take a quick inspection of him to make sure he looked decent enough. Before he could leave, you quickly buttoned up his jacket, thinking that was the final touch to make him look at least half decent. “That’s how you become president.”

Cas didn't understand what you were trying to say, but you didn't let him think too long about the explanation of what you had mentioned. You lightly tugged on his arm and nodded your head to start walking in the station to get this started. The three of you headed inside, and after speaking to a friendly receptionist up front, you found the deputy speaking with another officer.

"Deputy Framingham? Hi," You greeted the deputy with a friendly smile as you pulled out your badge for him to inspect it. Dean followed just seconds later, knowing the routine. "Grace Slick, FBI. These are my partners, Alonzo Mosely and Eddie Moscone." When you gotten the first part of the undercover cop done, you tucked the badge away and casually glanced over at Cas, wondering how he was doing. He just stood there, staring straight ahead at the officer, seeming not to have a clue of what to do. You cleared your throat and gave the officer a smile. "Also FBI."

Cas finally understood what the badge was for. You watched as he slipped a hand inside his jacket pocket, pulling out the fake badge you had given him, he flipped open the leather pouch, letting the officer examine the ID. But he wasn't exactly holding it right when you noticed it was upside down. You closed your eyes for a split second in embarrassment as Dean reached out a hand to quickly rip the badge of the angel's hand before placing it back in properly.

"He's, uh, he's new." Dean whispered to the officer when he noticed the strange stares. "Mind if we ask you a few questions?"

"Yeah. Sure. Talk here, though." Deputy Framingham said, pointing a finger to his right ear as he walked to his office with the three of you following behind. "Hearing's all blown to hell in this one."

"That happen recently?" You asked, taking one of the seats right across from his desk.

"Yeah—the gas-station thing." He said. "That's why you're here, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is." Dean answered, cautiously clearing his throat to not appear caught off guard. He stood in the middle after Cas took the only available seat next to you. "Do you mind just, uh, running us through what happened?"

“Well, call came in—disturbance out at the Pump ‘n’ Go on route four.” The deputy said. You asked him what kind of situation it had ended up being for him. “Would not have believed it my eyes if I hadn’t seen it myself. We're talking a riot—full-scale. Thirty, forty people. In all-out, kill-or-be-killed combat."

"Any idea what set them off?" You asked the officer.

"It's angels and demons, probably." Cas answered before the deputy could. You could feel your gaze lingering away from Framingham and to the angel sitting right next to you from the response you warned him about giving. "They're skirmishing all over the globe."

"Come again?" Deputy Framingham asked. "What did he say?"

"Demons."

"Nothing."

You tried to brush off the situation as nothing, hoping a smile to the deputy would make him forget the situation all together, but Cas was persistent. Your fingers curled into a loose fist when he spoke right in sync as you did. You cautiously looked at him in the eye to give him a warning.

"Nothing."

"Demons."

"Demons, you know—drink, adultery. We all have our demons, Walt. Right?" You managed to roll this situation into one that you could use, hoping the deputy couldn't look at Cas with even more of a confused face. Framingham moved his gaze over to you, but his expression seemed to have stayed. "Anyway, what happened next?"

"Freakin' explosion, that's what. They said it was one of those underground gas tanks, but, uh, I don't think so." Deputy Framingham said, shaking his head. You gave him a curious look, wondering why he would think that. "It wasn't your usual fireball. It was, um..."

"Pure white." Cas said, finishing the thought for the man.

"Yeah." The deputy agreed. You looked over at Cas from his answer that could have gone horribly wrong, but you ended up rolling your eyes from his deadpan expression, for the angel didn't seem to understand the frustration you were feeling. "Gas station was leveled. Everyone was... it was just horrible. Then I see this one guy, kneeling there, real focused-like. Not a damn scratch on him."

"You know him?" Dean asked.

Deputy Framingham nodded, "Donnie Finnerman—mechanic there.”

"And let me guess," Dean decided to try and sum up this situation himself before Cas could. "He just, uh...vanished into thin air?"

"Uh, no, Kolchak." The deputy said. "He's down at St. Pete's."

Cas turned to look at you after hearing the response, "St. Pete's."

You forced yourself to give the angel a smile of appreciation to stop suspecions from being raised by the deputy. You slowly cranked your neck upwards to make eye contact with the man. Both shared the same expression as you shook your head. You sure missed Sam in situations like this.

+ + +

The three of you headed over to St. Pete’s to see if you could find this Donnie Finnerman and have a talk about what he had witnessed himself at the massacre. All though it was told that he had no physical wounds, the man you saw sitting in the wheelchair inside the hospital room was not what you were expecting. You furrowed your brow slightly when you examined his almost lifeless stare as he looked out the window. The poor man was almost a shell of his old self.

“I take it that’s not Raphael anymore.” Dean remarked.

"Just an empty vessel." Cas explained to the both of you.

"So," Dean examined the man for a few moments when a question lingered in the back of his mind. He hadn't thought much about it, not until he seen what might come if he said yes. "Is this what I'm looking at when Michael jumps my bones?"

"No, not all." Cas said, almost making you believe for a split second his answer was reassuring, but he wasn't finished speaking. "Michael is much more powerful. It'll be far worse for you."

You could tell Dean was unsettled from the honest response that he wasn't expecting. His gaze wandered away from the angel and back to the man sitting in the hospital room, he stared at the scene for a moment longer before he headed down the hallway, walking until he out of sight. You let out a quiet sigh as you looked over at Cas, shaking your head from what he accidentally had done without realization. It seemed the angel needed a better lesson about how lying can benefit people in more ways than just one. Sometimes knowing about a dilemma was far worse than hearing nothing at all, even if it was inevitable.

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