#we hadn’t seen donna or charlie in so long :( and then that was it :((

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Espansivo

Chapter Twenty four

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Sam, Tiny, Sera Siege, Charlie, Donna, Jody, Patience, Nancy Fitzgerald, Andy Gallagher, Lee/Pam, Gibson child OMC, Annie/Bobby, Kevin

Word Count: 2308

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, hope

A/N: Dean gets to do the thing he loves to do. The brothers have a moment. The band gets ready to rock.

Series Masterlist

Dean rolled over in bed and smiled to himself. Tonight, he’d be on stage, starting the tour at home with back-to-back nights at the Forum. They were due in for set up and soundcheck by three, but he and Sam usually got there earlier. Plus, he wanted to check in on Jody and Donna. He hadn’t got the chance to talk to them since the conference call with their band, manager and Crowley and Bobby. 

Sheriffs, Psychics and Secretaries was their opener for the whole stretch, giving them a softer, sultrier intro than most of their fans expected. But Dean liked to play favorites, and once he found out they were free, he made it happen. Bobby helped, having worked with Jody when she was barely out of high school and starting out as a background singer.

The four piece all women band would definitely boost their Canadian ticket sales and Dean hoped to collaborate a bit further down the schedule.

He should have gotten up, but instead he just unplugged his phone and checked his messages. The band was pumped, Pam texted at seven with a pic of Gibson in one of the latest shirts from merch, which Dean hadn’t even seen yet. Then there was Kevin, who sometime after midnight asked how often they’d be able to do laundry, packing at the last minute like a true rookie.

Luckily, Pam had answered without too much sarcasm, so Dean didn’t feel bad for missing it. He sent a ‘get pumped’ gif and finally crawled out of bed.

As much as he loved touring, there was one thing that hotel rooms couldn’t compete with and that was his own custom-made shower. So Dean took his time, luxuriating beneath the hot water and amazing pressure. If he rubbed one out to take the edge off before a long day, that was his business.

And if the image of you on your knees in said shower was what pushed him over, he’d never admit it.

He got dressed and found the lukewarm pot of coffee Sam left for him in the empty kitchen. Dean sipped his coffee and strolled around the house, saying a silent ‘see ya later’. Their luggage and instruments littered the foyer, waiting for Tiny to pick them up and store what they didn’t need on the bus until they left Sunday night.

He finished his coffee on the pool deck, making sure the hot tub lid was on tight and everything else was put away. He knew their people would take care of anything he missed, but it helped him feel prepared to go through the motions. He’d never forgiven himself for not cleaning out the fridge before their first tour and ended up having to buy a whole new one.

Sam showed up with food and an extra set of toiletries and chargers for them both. Another thing they learned the hard way along the way. Always keep a set of clean underwear and a spare shirt, toothbrush, and deodorant in a backpack, just in case. And they didn’t even fly.

“Thanks, man,” Dean held up his pharmacy bag in gratitude, set it on the counter where he wouldn’t miss it and put his mug in the dishwasher.

Sam settled onto one of the stools, unwrapped his sandwich, and asked before he took a bite, “you ready?”

“Are you kidding?! I’m fucking stoked.” Dean shoved some chips into his mouth and waited as Sam finished chewing.

“No, I know, just checking in. It’s a long tour— longest we’ve ever done.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean looked down at his food and sighed. “Is it weird that the length doesn’t scare me? It almost feels right, like the longer we go, the more we prove them wrong?”

“The proverbial them? Yeah, I get it. It’s a marathon and they’re used to a sprint.”

“Exactly.” Dean bit into his own sandwich, the mayo pooled at the corners of his mouth and he savored the mix of flavors and textures. Damn, Sam still got him what he liked, even if it’d kill him someday.

“And Missouri is good with video-conferencing?”

Dean nodded and swallowed, wiping off the mess on his face. “Yeah, honestly we barely meet in person anymore anyway. She knows we’ll be on the road.”

“Okay, cool.”

Dean watched Sam’s mouth pinch as he thought of other things he should ask Dean. And things he didn’t want to bring up but probably should.

“It’s okay, let me have it. What else has got you so constipated?”

Sam looked pained at the accusation, but he huffed and got over it. “Look, I just need to know you’ve got a backup plan— plans even. If something sets you off, things you can do to keep it together or work through it or whatever.”

“Bobby asked you to check on me, didn’t he?”

Sam glared. “Can you blame him?”

Dean tossed his napkin on the counter and rocked back on his heels. “No, I guess not.”

“Trouble too— wanted to make sure you weren’t too distracted with the Bela stuff to tour.”

“She said that?”

“In not so many words.”

Dean chewed on that for a second. “Huh.”

Maybe you weren’t so unaffected after all. 

“I’m good, man. I’ve got the tools okay? Breathing, meditation or mindfulness or whatever it’s called these days, but also I can hit the gym if it’s too much or even call Missouri if it’s an emergency. I know what to do. And besides, it’s not like I’m used to living in the rage high these days— you know? I’m not that guy anymore.”

Sam looked Dean in the eye, his puppy dog eyes were intense but forgiving. “I know you’re not— I’m proud of you by the way. That guy last tour would have cussed me out for even asking.”

“Or broke your nose,” Dean agreed.

“If you could even reach it,” Sam teased.

Dean rolled his eyes and dug back into his lunch.

Dean pulled his guitars out of the back of the black Yukon Tiny had picked them up in. His sunglasses and cap on tight as he kept his head on a swivel in the underground parking ramp, knowing there’d be photographers all over the place as soon as they could weasel their way in. Once Sam had a bass on his back, his own acoustic in one hand and another bass in the other they headed inside, with Tiny and Co’s escort and curt nods toward the venue staff.

They were greeted by a very flustered event coordinator named Sera who wasn’t expecting them for another hour.

“Not a problem, we’ll stay out of your hair. Can’t do much until Charlie is ready for sound check anyway.”

“The redhead?” She squirmed, clearly annoyed. “She’s already here, too. Look— just don’t break anything. Your publicist is sorting through badges down the hall, please just have your security team meet with Mike, our security head before anybody starts moving freely beyond this level— or the stretch of dressing rooms.”

Dean and Sam shared a look, they never expected special treatment, but as the headliners they had come to expect a little more, not reverence, but respect at least.

“Whatever you say lady,” Dean agreed and picked his instruments back up so as not to seem like he’s getting too comfortable.

She motioned for her assistant to follow them as she stormed down the hall the opposite direction they’d arrived from.

“We asked the opening band to stay on their bus until we could vouch for them, but now that you’re here— we can do that. Where’s your manager anyhow? I thought I had sent him all of this already?”

“He’s with the road crew, Bobby likes to work his way in. So, let me get this straight, you haven’t let anyone besides our head tech and publicist in yet today?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve been charmed too many times by an accent Mr. Winchester— they’ll get their passes and everyone can do their jobs.”

He did not envy whatever bullshit spiel she’d given Benny.

She gestured for Sam and Dean to lead the way into a small cul-du-sac of offices in which they instantly spotted you in the middle one, untangling lanyards with a stack of plastic ids stacked in multiple piles all strewn across a usurped desk.

“Oh thank god!” You practically growled. “Here.”

Dean set down his guitars and took his pass and handed Sam his, who was shuffling awkwardly inside the small space. 

“You seen Bobby?” Sam asked you.

You rolled your eyes. “No, but he hasn't stopped calling me to figure this out. So I’m going to go start handing these out, please go find Victor so the girls can get situated. I feel like they got the unwelcome wagon this morning— after hauling ass down from Vancouver, too”

“On it,” Dean agreed. “Just gotta drop off our gear and we’ll go find ‘em.”

The venue’s staff all seemed to have other places to look than at the very urgent glares from you and the brothers.

“I’m sorry, I’m just used to a lot more layers to an organization than however it is you’re set up,” Sera snipped, sidestepping behind her desk that you had clearly pushed back to make room for sorting.

“Yeah, we don’t hand off stuff to underpaid lackeys, this band is a family business,” Dean snapped back.

“Clearly,” she said unamused, eying the space between Dean and you suspiciously. 

It was then that he realized you were both wearing ratty Zeppelin shirts and he exhaled. He turned to Sam and tipped his head back toward the hall, Sam nodded in agreement and then Dean leaned in to whisper to you, “good luck.”

You grunted in your throat, but faux smiled at him at the same time, basically saying ‘you’re lucky I love my job.’

If Dean could muster up some bravery and more self esteem, that smile could have been saying ‘you’re lucky I love you.’

“You got this,” he insisted and turned to once again haul his gear back down the dark concrete hall.

SPS, as Jody and Donna’s band was dubbed for ease, all practically tackled Dean after he knocked on the door to their tour bus and brought them their golden tickets.

“Dean-o, it’s so good to see ya,” Donna beamed, stealing his hat and turning it backward in order to plant a wet one on his cheek.”

He chuckled, “you too, D-train. Alright, ladies, let’s get you unloaded. Sam’s outside, too, so put him to work.”

He hugged Jody next and then shook Nancy’s hand, since she was more reserved with her physical affection than the others. And lastly there was Patience, who mimed slugging him on the shoulder before giving him a side-armed hug. 

“Thanks for putting our name in the ring, can’t tell you what this means to us, Dean.”

“Nah, come on. Besides, you guys earned it. Let’s get you ready to kill tonight, alright?”

Her big brown eyes sparkled and Dean suddenly realized he was ushering in a new generation of musicians. Between her, Nancy and Kevin, this was the youngest troupe they’d worked with since the rest of them were that age.

“It’s going to be amazing.”

Something in Dean knew she was right.

Pamela reassembled her kit herself after absolutely admonishing the rookie roadies who had dared to start without her. Annie had Gibson in the wings as Phantom Traveler took the stage. Their mics were a nightmare to sort out, but Charlie was good at what she did so she got everything in line and prepped before they got too far behind. She’d also helped SPS and the in-house tech team so they could maximize the space. It was a helluva venue to start off in, but Dean wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Opening night’s setlist had been locked since the second rehearsal, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t expand it if they were so inclined. Encores might have become expected, but the number of songs could always vary.

So Dean had them go over a few untouched oldies, things he wanted dusted off, just in case.

The energy between the band was unmatched. Easy smiles and intuitive rifts flowed forth the longer they played. Sure, they were nervous, Dean and Kevin probably the most. But it wasn’t fear, it was anticipation.

Dean soared with each note. It had been so long since he’d felt this alive. And after the past few years and the places he’d been, the things he’d put them all through, especially after losing Cas’, it finally felt like he had pulled himself out of the abyss. His band beside him, Dean was ready for the tour, but also whatever came after. 

As they were moving things to the wings for SPS to take the stage in a mere two hours and six minutes, Dean heard your laugh over the chaos. Looking around, he spotted you and Andy, the band’s go to photographer getting candid shots of the crew and band. It was like night and day, seeing you relaxed and excited now, compared to how frustrated and embarrassed you had been earlier in Sera’s office.

Dean knew he was in trouble this tour, having you so close, so present, and for so long was going to kill him slowly. Or his resolve at least. He’d taken on the Bela deal to get back in everyone’s good graces. And he’d even had some fun. 

But she wasn’t you.

Sam knew it and he was pretty sure Bobby and Annie knew it too.

Maybe if tonight went well, maybe it’d be enough.

Maybe he could be free from the tabloids and Twitter feeds and be allowed to make his own decisions again.

Maybe it was time for more.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

@brightlilith

@coldhearted93

@djs8891

Chapter 25: Vivace

[fardell24b]

Spider Quinn 11 The Huntsmans - Part 3

It didn’t take long for the cheerleading team to arrive in Middlebury, which was a little over 10 miles from Lawndale.

“Now, the competition is being held at Middlebury High,” Ms. Morris said. “We need to sign up before going to the hotel.”

“Of course,” Brittany said. She hoped that she would get the opportunity to find out more about what was going on.

SpiderGirl left the school after the mentoring session for the day had ended. She knew that she wasn’t going to hear from Ninja Talon for a while yet. She went on one of her usual patrols.

Daria arrived home with Tananda in tow. “Mom won’t be home for a while yet.”

“I know that she’s a lawyer.”

“Yes. So you should be prepared for her to be questioning you a lot about your motives.”

“But one question. How is she doing? This house can’t be cheap,” Tananda said.

“Her income is more than enough to cover everything,” Daria answered. “Of course, that does include the overtime she was doing anyway.”

“Oh.”

“The kitchen is this way.”

Trent entered Jane’s room and saw what she was drawing. “I see that you’re still planning on using my car.”

“I can’t afford one,” Jane commented.

Trent laughed and coughed. “True.”

“And trying to find one like it would take even more time.”

Brittany discretely asked around for more information after she and the others from Lawndale signed in.

“…There’s another new team as well as Lawndale High,” the girl from Middlebury said.

“And where are they from?” Brittany asked.

“I don’t know, somewhere in a neighboring county. The leader introduced them as the Huntsmans.”

“Sounds ominous,” Brittany commented as she twirled her hair.

“They’re also themed after the spider.”

“Spider. Like SpiderGirl, probably.”

“That reminds me. Is SpiderGirl actually real? She does have superpowers?” the other girl asked.

“She does. I have met her,” Brittany answered carefully.

“And seen her use her powers?”

“Yes.”

“Cool,” the girl responded. “But it does make you wonder what else is real.”

“I agree. Anyway, I’m Brittany.”

“Charli.”

After talking to Charli, Brittany wondered if Quinn was home yet. ‘I’ll wait a little longer,’ she decided. She decided to look more into it. But first, she looked to where Angie was sitting by herself at a table.  ‘I’ll give her company for a short while.’

SpiderGirl saw that Daria wasn’t alone inside. She knew of Tananda, but hadn’t interacted. She retreated to the laneway to change before going into the house.

Tananda saw Quinn enter through the kitchen door. “Good Afternoon,” she said.

“Tananda right?”

“Yes,” she answered. “I’m here to interview your family for Mr. O’Neill’s project.

“OK,” the other said guardedly.

“I won’t press about your grief too much.”

“Good!” Quinn responded as she went to the fridge.

It wasn’t long before Brittany called. Daria answered the phone. “Brittany?”

“Hi, Daria, I’d like to talk to Quinn, please,”

“Um, Sure,” Daria said, wondering why Brittany would want Quinn. “Quinn! Phone! It’s Brittany.”

“I’ll take it upstairs,” Quinn said.

“She’ll be there in a minute,” Daria told Brittany.

“Thanks!”

“I’m in my room,” Quinn said.

“There isn’t much more information,” Brittany said.

“But there is some.”

“There’s another team signing up as well, called the Huntmans.”

“I haven’t heard of them,” Quinn admitted.

“They’re from another county apparently.”

“I see. I’ll try to find information on them online and get back to you on that. No other information on what happened to the other team?”

“None, but I’ll keep trying.”

“Thanks for letting me know.”

After hanging up, Quinn turned on her laptop.

Brittany looked around after hanging up. There weren’t any others nearby other than Angie and Donna who were talking to each other. She hoped that Quinn would be able to find more information. ‘But first I need to unpack.’

Helen got home to find an unfamiliar girl in her kitchen. “Tananda is it?” she asked.

“Yes,” the girl, Tananda, responded.

“Daria says that you two are doing a journalism related assignment.”

“That’s right.”

“She says that you had put together rather intrusive questions,” Helen said in her full lawyer persona.

“That is what she said,” Tananda responded defensively.

“I would to have a look at these questions if you don’t mind. Then I’ll talk to Daria and Quinn about them. Then you can conduct the interview.”

Tananda considered that Mrs. Morgendorffers’ reputation was well earned. She felt that she was on the witness stand in a court room. “Certainly,” she said as she slid the question sheet to her over the kitchen table.

The other took it. “Thank you.”

Meanwhile, Brittany questioned another of her rivals about what was going on. “I’m afraid that I don’t know why they were kidnapped. It is probably related to whatever is going on in Lawndale.”

“Maybe,” Brittany considered as she twirled a pigtail. But she wasn’t sure that it was connected.

“I know you have been asking around.”

“Yes?”

“I think it’s drawing attention,” the other said.

“Oops....” Brittany said.

“Not too much. It’s just that I notice these things.”

“Right.”

“Anyway, I’m Anna May.”

“Brittany.”

“Nice to meet you, Brittany,” Anna May said.

Helen finished reading through the list of questions Tananda had brought. “Some of these are too personal and leading.”

“That’s what Daria said.”

“And you should have listened to her.”

“OK, point those out and I’ll come back tomorrow with them rephrased,” Tananda said.

“I’ll shall point them out, right now,” Helen said as she grabbed a pen from a drawer.

Tananda looked at the sheet and sighed. Mrs. Morgendorffer had marked almost half of the questions! “Have you looked at Daria’s questions?”

“Not yet, but I will now.”

“Right.”

“I see that you’re new at this. That it was one of Mr. O’Neill’s whims,” Mrs. Morgendorffer said. “But you should have listened to Daria when she said that questions were too personal. Now I have my eye on you. And don’t forget that it’s only two months since Jake… My husband died!”

Tananda could see that there were tears on her face. “Sorry that I brought that up,” she said sincerely.

“I’m fine.”

Quinn was in her room. “Nintendo. N I N T E N D O.” ‘I doubt it,’ she thought, but she thought she would cover her bases. Next….

The door opened. “Mom?”

“I thought I would check in on you,” her mother said.

“I’m fine. I just preparing for the Spelling Bee on Friday.”

“Right. You are aware of Daria’s latest project.”

“What about it?” Quinn asked.

“It’s just that this Tananda is being rather inquisitive about her questions.”

“She hasn’t asked me anything yet.”

“I thought I would give you some warning,” her mother said.

“Thanks.”

“Anything else you want to talk to me about?”

“Nothing comes to mind,” Quinn answered.

In Middlebury, Brittany had settled in to her room, before heading out to investigate again. She thought about what Anna May had said. ‘Inconspicuous,’ she thought.

“Brittany!” she heard someone call after she turned a corner.

She looked and saw that it was Charli. “What’s up?” she asked as she came over to her.

“After we talked, I decided to look into it myself.”

“OK.”

“Apparently, the Huntmans haven’t arrived yet,” Charli explained.

“They haven’t?” Brittany asked, while twirling her hair.

“They haven’t. It’s quite strange, and the person who signed in for them seemed quite weird also.”

“In what way?”

“The one who told me that didn’t say how,” Charli said, ruffling her short brown hair.

“Then I’ll have to find out more.”

As Tananda left, she looked back at the Morgendorffers’ house. She thought again about what the widowed mother had said. ‘I’ll try not to pry too much,’ she thought. She turned around and headed home. She was sure she would get home before it was too dark.

SpiderGirl headed out shortly after Tananda had left. ‘It’s not likely that she’s the Shadow,’ she thought as she sighted the demure looking blonde in the distance. ‘But I want to rule the possibility out.’ She then followed, keeping to the rooftops.

Tananda’s place was only a few blocks away, halfway towards the Rowe’s and Coultards’ place. SpiderGirl saw her go inside, so she waited while listening to the radio in some trees across the street.

“The Shadow has been reported rescuing a woman from a mugger in Dega Street…”

‘So, she’s not the Shadow,’ SpiderGirl thought as she swung away. She then heard some sirens in a street nearby.

Peterson saw SpiderGirl land. “There was a break and enter, and neighbors called,” she said.

“Right.”

“And there are still no clues as to the whereabouts to those cheerleaders.”

“Ninja Talon is in Middlebury, investigating there,” SpiderGirl said.

Some things connected in Peterson’s mind. “You know who she is, don’t you?”

“I might,” SpiderGirl said enigmatically.

“Anyway, being proactive, that’s good. I’ll give a friend in Middlebury’s Department a call when I get off duty.”

“That will be great!”

“She’ll look out for Ninja Talon and help her in her search.”

“Thanks!”

Lawndale Sun-Herald

Thursday January 25, 2001

Cheerleaders from Oakwood Still missing despite search.

SpiderGirl wondered whether to skip school and join in the search. ‘No,’ she decided. That wasn’t a good idea. It would increase the chances of her secret identity being discovered. So, she headed towards the school.

In Middlebury, the various cheer teams practiced in between lessons. However, the Huntsmans didn’t show up until after school, when the competition was being held.

SpiderGirl left the school as soon as the last bell rang. She headed to the northern edge of Lawndale, planning on calling a Taxi. She didn’t see the Shadow leaving the school to the west.

Trent was awake when Jane got home. “So, Middlebury, is it?”

“Yes. It’s where the competition is being held, so it’s a good place to start.”

“Sure,” Trent said. “I’m ready to go.”

“Good.”

SpiderGirl could see that the taxi driver was surprised that she was his customer. “SpiderGirl? Is this a prank?”

“No! Why would I prank a taxi driver?”

“I don’t know. But where do you want to go?”

“Middlebury,” SpiderGirl answered.

“Middlebury? That will be expensive.”

“I can afford it.”

“Hop in then.”

“This is far enough,” SpiderGirl said when the taxi passed the Welcome to Middlebury sign.

“Are you sure.”

“Yes,” SpiderGirl said taking out an amount of cash just over the amount displayed on the meter.

“Sure,” the driver said before telling her the amount.

SpiderGirl handed over the cash and told him to keep the change as she swung away.

Trent drove into Middlebury five minutes later. “So, where is this competition at?”

“The Middlebury High,” Jane said.

“Got it.”

SpiderGirl got to Middlebury High first and saw that a performance was already underway. ‘Too bad Talon and I don’t have personal radios,’ she thought. She looked around for the Lawndale team.

“Brittany, isn’t that SpiderGirl?” Donna asked.

Brittany looked up at the nearby rooftop. “It is. I think she’s investigating the situation.”

“I’m not sure what she could do,” Donna added.

“Something.”

SpiderGirl saw Brittany and Donna talking. ‘They have probably seen me.’ She looked around again. Many of the teams were there. ‘There’s a commotion over there.’

Trent had pulled up near the Hall. “OK, Janie. This is as close as I can get.”

“No problem, Trent,” Jane said as she got out.

Jane quickly changed into the Shadow and then made her way towards the Hall, getting there as the Lawndale team started their routine.

The team finished their routine.

“Lawndale High Lionesses 9/10.”

“Yes!” Brittany exclaimed.

However, something then happened. A helicopter was landing outside the hall.

‘What?’ Brittany asked herself.

SpiderGirl saw the large helicopter land. ‘What’s going on?’ she asked herself as she looked closer at it. It was decorated like a large huntman. ‘Going all out are they?’

She then watched as the team marched out from the helicopter into the Hall. She then followed them.

‘That’s certainly some entrance,’ the Shadow thought. She approached the helicopter slowly, noting the SpiderGirl had also watched the team arrive and was following them into the Hall. She then attached one of the tracking devices her mother had given her to the craft and dashed around to another entrance.

“There’s something strange about them…” Donna commented as the Huntsmans came up on the stage. ‘And not just that they’re wearing masks.’

“I agree,” Brittany said.

“SpiderGirl…” Donna said as she turned around.

“She’s here?” Brittany asked.

“Yes.

Brittany turned and looked. ‘Good,’ she thought. “I see.”

SpiderGirl saw that Brittany had noticed her. ‘I hope she’s ready to leap into action if she needs to,’ she thought. She then looked at the team. They were just standing still on the stage. “That is very strange,” she murmured. Usually cheer teams were more active just before a performance.

“And now the Huntsmans!” the announcer said.

The Huntsmans got a perfect 10.

“That’s impossible!” Ms. Morris fumed. “They had to have cheated!”

‘I agree,’ Brittany thought. She placed a hand on Ms. Morris’ shoulder.

“Ms. Taylor?”

“Are you OK?”

“I’m fine! It’s just what they just did has to be impossible!” Ms. Morris stated.

“You may be right,” Brittany considered. She had to investigate. She then dashed off.

“Brittany?” Donna asked. Her friend had just disappeared.

The Huntsmans did an encore presentation, but something went wrong as they did a pyramid. They all collapsed in a heap. Most of them got up without saying anything. The coach went over to one of them. “Are you OK?”

The girl got up. “I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine…” she said over and over.

SpiderGirl looked at the girl. She certainly didn’t look hurt, but normal people didn’t repeat ‘I’m fine,’ over and over again. The others weren’t doing anything. ‘Maybe they’re special,’ she considered. She shook her head. Those who were special were just as concerned for others as those who were more normal. ‘Something else is up.’ She swung down. “She doesn’t seem fine.”

“SpiderGirl? This isn’t Lawndale.”

“No, but it isn’t far away,” SpiderGirl responded.

“Of course. But she is fine. No need to concern yourself.”

“She’s saying ‘I’m fine’ over and over. That doesn’t sound fine.”

“She will be looked over later,” the other said. “We’re leaving now.”

‘Probably the stress,’ SpiderGirl thought, although she was sure that didn’t explain everything.

The Huntsmans then started walking out of the hall, only to find Ninja Talon blocking the way.

“Ninja Talon! Out of the way!”

“I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“Why is she saying that?”

“None of your business!” the coach said. “Out of the way.”

“No. This is suspicious!” SpiderGirl said.

“Out of our way!”

“No!” It was the Shadow, coming up behind SpiderGirl.

“I see it. You are all doing something.”

Daria turned on the TV as she got home. Instead of Sick Sad World, there was a breaking news bulletin.

“A stand off between the three Lawndale vigilantes and the coach of the Huntsman.”

She could see SpiderGirl there. “I knew she would go too far,” she murmured. She took out the list of questions she would ask Tananda later.

“Team! Form up around Tania,” the Coach said, noting that the various news crews were reporting on the situation. ‘Too much publicity! I may need to move early.’

“Tania,” she heard the Ninja vigilante murmur as she made a nervous gesture with her hand.

The team obeyed her order. “Now, force your way through the vigilantes, avoid the Spider Girl’s webbing.”

“See, suspicious!” said vigilante said. “You planned for this!”

“Maybe,” the Coach responding, producing a shock baton.

[starsstillshine]

it’s almost 2 months later and i’m still wondering if they thought it would be satisfying not seeing donna and au charlie undusted. esp knowing there was a scene written where donna, au charlie, au bobby, and the au hunters got undusted

[this-is-spn20]

Day 10 of Christmas: Bake Cookies for Friends

As much as you loved being in the company of the Winchester boys, you missed seeing your other friends. You video-chatted with Donna and Jody along with Charlie and Harry. Sadly Harry couldn't make it to you as he was on a mission. But Charlie and the other two women could. You told them you missed them so much and you wanted to surprise the boys with some friends of yours. You invited your best friends too. The more the merrier, and you missed them. Plus Dean always wondered who these people you kept in contact with so much. He was intrigued to meet them so much when you mentioned that they weren’t hunters. Very rarely does a hunter keep in contact with their ‘old’ life. 

Most leave that all behind in favor of “The Family Business”. But you just had too many ties. Too many people to make a fuss if you just jumped off the face of the Earth. Too many people were willing to find you at any cost. So you just keep in contact with everyone you could while hunting. Most aren’t fortunate to lead this double life of yours. Being one of the few hunters who can keep their friends and family in the loop, you were a bit famous in the hunting community. Only getting more popular when you started hunting with Sam and Dean. 

You made sure to coordinate with everyone and told them to drive out to the bunker by today. They all should be pulling up by tonight at the latest. Sam and Dean knew you had a surprise for them, they just didn’t know. All you told them was that today you were baking a lot of cookies for something special. They were begging to know what this was all about you told them you’d be making about a pound of sugar cookies. They both sputtered like two fishes out of water when Dean then exclaimed “As much as we love your cooking Y/n, we can’t eat that many cookies!” You then explained that you wouldn’t be eating them all by yourselves. Questions kept being thrown at you while you all made the dough and you kept a straight face mostly. You were so excited but had to keep it all inside while you all made the cookies. 

By the time the cookies were in the oven and you set the timer on your phone, Donna Said she’d carpooled with Jody and they should be there in about three more hours. Perfect. You may have gone overboard with the cookies. You made about five batches of cookies but at the same time, these hunters have appetites out of this world. So in the end, you figured it’d be just enough for all of you. Charlie was about 30 minutes away, she just finished up a case nearby and went to her hotel room to freshen up. She’d be the first one here. You told everyone to not worry about dinner since you’d be ordering pizza and had plenty of booze to go around unless they wanted to bring something for everyone. Which For Jody would be the case, she said she’d bring some surprise for everyone. You were excited when your friends said they were about 3 hours away. They’d be showing up with Jody and Donna. You were getting everything in order when your timer went off for the last batch of cookies. Grateful you used your phone timer instead of the one way in the kitchen and put on your oven mittens took out the cookies and placed them on the cooling rack. You started cleaning up the kitchen a bit when Dean came into the kitchen and practically beg to know what was going on. You took pity on him. You could never say no to Dean. 

You told him everything and he was ecstatic and immeadiently went to tell Sam. They were hyper already and they didn’t even eat any of the cookies. You hadn’t seen them smile so big in so long. For a moment you felt a bit of sorrow, not knowing the next time they would smile hurt. They were always getting hurt somehow. They deserved nothing but happiness for all they do. When you’ve told them this is the past, they always say you do just as much. They were good to you. And it seems you were one of the only ones who gave them that in return. 

With everything just about done in the kitchen, you went off to your room and as you walked by Dean’s room you could hear him muttering about something. You asked him what he was doing and he promptly jumped up from his desk chair and said it was a secret. You chuckled as you kept walking. There seemed to be a lot of secrets around here lately, and for once, they were nothing bad. You kept working on your current project when you got two texts from both Jody and Charlie, saying they’d be there in five minutes. You practically skipped out of your room and knocked on the boy’s door you told them the news and they followed you to the stairs and finally the front door. 

When you saw all three girls pull up next to each other you couldn’t hold your excitement anymore and you attacked the girls with hugs which they replicated. You all went inside and talked about recent hunts and family festivites. You’d asked Jody where Alex and Clarie were and she explained that they weren’t really feeling the holiday spirit and were working/hunting. Sad, but hey, what could you do? Donna talked about her recent hookup with some guy named Jack, and Jody showed her a little surprise. It was green bean casserole and potato salad. Alright, so pizza, casserole, and potato salad. Weird dinner sure but you had worse. Easy conversation flew by and you a text from with you all as you got texts from your best friends saying they were five minutes out. You left the ladies with Sam and Dean in the library to go greet your friends.

When they pulled up, they quickly turned off the car and jumped out to hug you and bombard you with questions. You answered everything while bringing them into the bunker. Charlie, Donna, Jody, Sam, and Dean all quieted down when you entered the bunker with some unfamiliar faces. You introduced your two friends and both boys accepted them graciously. If you trusted them, they did too. The ladies greeted them with apprehensive but warm smiles. And at first, it was awkward and the questions were a bit uncomfortable, but soon you all found a rhythm. Sharing stories, tears and belly laughs, you stuffed pizza in your mouth with glee. You guys were having so much fun that you almost forgot about your cookies. You quickly ran into the kitchen and put all the cookies in a bowl and told everyone to follow you as you made your way to your room. Watching everything from chick flicks to straight action films. You were all stuffed, drunk, and happy. 

With no one going to sleep, it was the first all-nighter in a while that you actually enjoyed. 

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

@of-a-chaotic-mind @fooshigoomies @naturalswifty89

@imaginestuffs

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[itmighthavebeenintentional]

I’m Ready

Summary: “I can’t...I can’t take my forever if you’re not in it.” 

Picks up right where the show left off. Not technically a fix-it, as I didn’t change anything, but I promise it gets better. 

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of (canon) child abuse and neglect, mentions of past trauma, working through trauma, denial, bit of pining (but, like, in a denial sort of way), some fluff, some angst (but not as much as there is fluff)

Author’s Note: So many thanks to @there-must-be-a-lock​ for endless suggestions, fixes, and beautiful images (header AND dividers!!!). Thanks to all my friends for cheering me on, especially @thoughtslikeaminefield​ ; I probably wouldn’t have kept going with the story without you.

This is my first Destiel story and my first time posting in a while. Please be kind.

Word Count: 7704

In case you missed it: ItMightHaveBeenintentional’s Masterlist

Dean isn’t sure how long he’s been in heaven, at least not by heaven’s timeframe. Probably years, maybe even a couple of decades. He doesn’t age in heaven, and time works differently, running fast and stretching slow. 

For Dean, heaven is a chance to rest, catch up with his massive found family, and just breathe for the first time since he was a kid. No worrying about Sam, no waiting for the next monster to pop out, no prepping for the next apocalypse.

Nothing like heaven to give a guy time to kick his boots off and just relax. 

Unfortunately, relaxing has never come easy to Dean. Sure, he can go through the motions (binge watching horror movies, binge drinking, hell, just bingeing in general), but relaxing is an entirely different matter.

Relaxing means letting his guard down. It means giving up his hypervigilance. It means sleeping hard and staying asleep until he wakes naturally and unassisted by attackers. It means spending long moments reminding himself the monster at the end of the book is really gone.

Sam is safe. Everyone he’s ever loved is safe and close, where he can reach them.

Almost everyone. 

...

Jake Walker is born on the ninth of July at twenty-one seconds past 9:14 AM. His mother Samantha is exhausted after a two-weeks-early delivery, but both she and the baby are strong and steady. Her wife didn’t faint, none of the medical team ever sounded the least worried, and she heard her son’s first shocked wail as he came into the world. Exhausted, but definitely good.

His mom Betty, on the other hand, is an absolute wreck. She’s been anxious the entire pregnancy, despite good news from the doctor at every visit, and she is terrified that the unexpected early arrival of their son means her worst fears are just beginning. 

Betty takes slow, calming breaths, focusing on not clamping down too hard on Sam’s hand. She has to stay strong, calm, for her new family. She has to keep her head on straight, in case—in case —

“Your son is absolutely fine, seems he just had a real particular time he wanted to arrive. Here he is.”

Betty opens her eyes to find a delivery nurse beaming at her, proffering a small, swaddled bundle.

“Never seen such a calm baby. Here, he’s been waiting for you.” 

Betty looks down into the startlingly clear, mossy green eyes gazing up at her from the squashed, serene little face, and she feels something click into place in the middle of her chest. Samantha leans her head back against her pillow, letting out a long slow breath as she smiles, and Betty’s pulse slowly finds its way back to something like normal.

“We’ve been waiting for you, too, big guy.”

...

Trauma doesn’t heal in a day, not even in heaven. All the shit Dean remembers — all the shit he tried to forget — everything he ever managed to suppress — drives him from his bed at night, leaving him sleepless on his front porch, staring blankly into the night, or tinkering on Baby in the garage, digging into the perfect engine, determined to distract himself from his spiraling thoughts. 

Dean has never been an idiot, no matter how many times he played the fool in life. The people he and Sam couldn’t save, the people he let down, none of those deaths are on him. Dean isn’t responsible for the pain and suffering, but he’s haunted by it all the same. 

The problem is, haunts don’t go away on their own. Every hunter knows that. 

It’s not that he wants forgiveness; how can he be forgiven for something he isn’t responsible for? He needs to see those people, though, see that they’re okay and at peace. He has to make sure everyone is where they should be, safe and at least content. And even if he ultimately isn’t their killer, didn’t want their deaths, would have done anything to prevent them, he still needs them to know...to know everything. 

He needs absolution.

And if the person who needs to hear those things the most is MIA, well, they’ve got a history of not saying a lot of things face to face. There’s always prayer, right? 

Dean starts by visiting a couple of people he hadn’t been able to save along the way, feeling strangely like someone following a twelve step program. Objectively, (ie, according to the people he talks to), he’s got nothing to apologize for. He did his best; he made tough decisions in situations forced upon him. They don’t blame him in the least, and most are truly and obviously thankful for his intervention.

Their words don’t make much of a dent in the mountain of guilt Dean carries on his shoulders, but it’s a start. 

Once or twice, Dean finds himself looking up at the sky, so far from empty, opening his mouth to call out — an action so common on earth it nearly became reflex —but he stops himself both times. He’s not ready for that conversation.

But he needs to talk to someone closer to him, a deeper connection than the monster victims he’s been visiting. 

He’s restless, needs to move a little, needs to talk to…

Someone. He needs to talk to someone. But he can’t. Hell, he can’t even say the name. 

Pacing the garage turns to a wandering ramble down the road, past Sam and his family’s house, past Mom and Dad’s house (there’s a conversation or fifty that he’s not ready for), until he finds himself in front of what can only be described as a hobbit hole. He shakes his head, not for the first time, the corner of his mouth tilted up as he knocks on the circular front door. 

He’s greeted by bright red hair, a surprisingly crushing hug, and one of the brightest smiles Dean has ever seen.

“Hey, Charlie. Can we, uh...You up for a walk? I was hopin we could talk for a while.”

...

Jake grows quickly and steadily, always near the top of all his growth charts but never alarmingly so. He’s bright, quick to anger and quick to laugh, and fiercely loving. He is both his mothers’ boy, always up for a cuddle or a wrestle, and he loves to build block towers and demolish them with equal abandon. 

He makes his displeasure with vegetables known early on. On this particular morning, he introduces his strained peas to the kitchen wall with surprising velocity. Betty knows better than to encourage this attitude, so she hides her smile behind calm, controlled admonition as she offers another spoonful. 

Jake looks her straight in the eyes, his smile dazzling and laughter bright, and she knows she hasn’t fooled him one bit. She sighs and lets her own smile match his. He won her over the day he was born; there’s not much point trying to fight it now.

“Come on, babe, eat your peas and we’ll see about some of those stewed apples left over from Mommy’s pie filling. Deal?”

She scrunches her nose and wiggles her eyebrows. Jake’s little eyes widen at her expression, and he tries to imitate it before dissolving into giggles. Betty takes the opportunity to poke a spoonful of peas into his open mouth. 

She’s not spent much time around kids before this, but Betty swears she’s never seen a baby look so resigned and exasperated in real life. But she’s played her trump card. He’s too young for the crust, but a couple of spoonfuls of smashed up fruit (apple is his favorite), and Jake is guaranteed to eat just about anything she presents.

“Pie?” she asks.

Jake smiles and opens his mouth wider.

...

“SURPRISE!!!”

The last time he was shocked this badly, Sam didn’t let him forget that fucking cat for years. Or ever, really. Seems like everyone he ever knew is stuffed into his living room, barely leaving room for the balloon bouquets and a massive… That’s not a cake, it’s…

That’s the most beautiful apple pie Dean has ever seen in his entire life. 

Dean is engulfed by arms, hugging and patting and slapping his back (was that a pinch on his ass?), everyone eager to get their turn with him, wishing him a happy birthday, saying they can’t wait until he opens his presents, it’s so good to see him, he’s looking so rested!

He manages to extract himself from the wellwishers, citing parental obligations, and finally makes his way over to Mary, smiling warmly and offering him a knife and a plate. His eyes flick anxious from his mom to the golden brown circle of perfection before him, but he can’t bring himself to ask. Mary’s smile widens.

“I didn’t lay a hand on it except to take it out of the box. Happy Birthday, Dean.”

Six plates of pie later, Dean reclines on his couch, letting the relaxed atmosphere of the party sink into his bones. The excitement and crowd of early have begun to wind down, leaving a double handful of family, both blood and found, all telling the most embarrassing, terrible Dean stories they can think of.

It’s possible Dean’s never laughed this hard in his entire life.

He heaves a deep sigh of contentment and props his feet ponderously on the coffee table, draping an arm across the back of the couch and surveying the room. 

Donna, one of the apparent party conspirators, tosses him a sparkling grin over her shoulder before turning back to a rather animated conversation with Charlie about the length of Dean’s wig at the LARPing battle. Sam and Kevin are recounting Dean’s worst cooking disasters to Garth’s wife, and Bobby is entertaining Mary with Dean’s disastrous attempt to flirt with the pizza delivery girl who delivered to Bobby’s house most weekends when Sam and Dean would stay with him. 

If Dean had to describe one perfect day, this would be just about it, down to the flakiness of the pie crust and the amazing collection of horror movies and original vinyls he’s been gifted. Almost every single person he could possibly want present is there, and since he isn’t dwelling on absence today, Dean decides to push his wandering thoughts out of his head and just soak it all in.

Every muscle in his body hums contentedly, and Dean feels strangely warm and peaceful, but excited, all at once. It’s weird, just sitting here and enjoying the moment, not worrying about the next minute or hour or day or even year. He’s full of pie, he’s got great tunes to look forward to, and there’s nothing to worry about. 

He’s happy.

Naturally, that’s when the panic sets in. This won’t last; it never does. Happiness can’t last. He learned that a long time ago. 

Sure, it’s heaven, but he doesn’t deserve to be here, so something is going to spoil it for him, for everyone. Probably Dean himself, he thinks as his eyes dart from his mom to his dad. Dean always seems to find a way to fuck things up, couldn’t take care of Sam, couldn’t keep himself alive, couldn’t even keep the Empty from—

“Hey, birthday boy.” Jody’s voice somehow reaches Dean through his darkening thoughts, and he comes back to himself in stages, focusing on the warmth of her hands on his shoulders. She stands behind the couch, leaning down to squeeze his shoulders. “Wanna get some air?”

He nods blindly and climbs numbly to his feet. Jody guides him efficiently out the door and points Dean in an arbitrary direction. They walk for what could be moments or hours as Dean plows through the morass in his mind. 

“I get it,” Jody finally says. 

Dean glances sharply at her. 

“I still have random panic attacks sometimes, wondering if Alex is safe at the hospital, if this is going to be the hunt that gets Claire.” Her eyes are fixed on some point in the distance, and he gets the feeling she’s deliberately not meeting his eyes. “I check on Owen every thirty minutes on my bad nights, and I have to lay hands and eyes on Sean to convince myself he’s really there before I can calm down. It always takes me a minute or sixty to make myself remember where we are, where everyone is, and that there isn’t some big or even small bad waiting around the corner or under the bed.”

Dean stuffs his hands in his pockets, stuffing down his automatic reassurances. The first half of his life was spent avoiding conversations like this, and it took him a long time to unlearn the knee-jerk reaction to brush off people’s concerns with some variation of “Everything’s fine.”

Jody, with an awareness born of decades of hunting and parenthood, senses his discomfort. She slows her steps and catches Dean’s elbow, turning him gently to face her.

“That feeling in your gut when the happiness comes, the panic, that knowledge deep, deep down that everything good is bound to turn to shit.” Jody reaches out and wipes a trickle of moisture from Dean’s face.

It’s not raining, he thinks, frowning. Where the hell did that come from?

“You're going to unlearn it. You’re the toughest bastard I’ve ever met, Dean, and you've been through literal hell. If anyone has earned their happiness up here, it’s you. You’re allowed to be happy, and someday you’ll know it.”

Dean would love to reply right now, to contradict Jody. He’d love to remind her of all the bad calls he made, of all the torturing he did in hell, of all the lies he told... 

But this knot in his throat is choking him. And still Jody persists.

“I know how goddamned stubborn you are, but you’re not stupid either. We have nothing to forgive you for. Maybe once you’ve talked to everyone on your list, you’ll see that, too. But in the meantime, take a deep breath, give me a hug, and at least say in your head that you’re allowed to enjoy yourself at your own damned birthday party, even if you can’t admit it out loud.”

And if the damp patch on Jody’s shoulder bothers her as they stroll back to Dean’s house to grab a couple of beers, at least she’s tactful enough to not mention it.

...

Jake takes care of his family. He’s a fairly serious, empathetic toddler, quick to kiss other’s ouchies. After receiving his first Elmo bandage, Jake insists on bandaging his stuffed puppy’s tail, his tyrannosaurus rex’s left eye (“He fight with stegosaurus,” Jake solemnly informs Samantha as he presses the adhesive strip in place), and then an old, almost-healed shaving cut on Betty’s left knee. 

“Mama better now?” Jake asks, somehow managing to sound strictly professional and absurdly adorable at the same time. He looks up to Betty for approval, and she wonders how she manages to let him touch the ground at all with how much she just wants to hold him all day long. 

“Mama so much better now,” she informs him, careful to stay serious. He rewards her with the golden smile that is the highlight of her days before rushing off to find someone else he can fix up. 

Both Betty and Samantha marvel in his quickness to share his snacks. They never refuse an offered Cheerio from him, no matter how damp or sticky (though a few of those disappear quickly when Jake’s attention wanders). 

The discussion over a first pet is fairly quick and decisive. Everyone agrees the pet must be something fluffy that can be cuddled. Betty vetoes anything smaller than a cantaloupe, citing her clumsiness and tendency to step on things that should never be trod upon. Jake vetoes cats, saying he just doesn’t trust them, and Mommy and Mama share one of their silent conversations before Samantha speaks up.

“A puppy it is, then, Jakey. Let’s go look up some good breeds.”

Their first pet is a rescue named Garth, at Jake’s adamant insistence, though they're still not sure where he learned that name in the first place. Garth is clumsy, awkward, easy-going, and the most spoiled and cared for pet in the neighborhood. 

Jake’s little sister Tabitha comes along shortly before his fourth birthday, and he takes to big brotherhood with an authority and self-assurance that delights every stranger the family meets. When she eventually starts walking, Jake is right by her side, guiding each one of her toddling little steps while a beaming Mommy and Mama follow close behind.

No one is even a little surprised when Tabby’s first whole word is “Hake.” She masters the letter j eventually, but continues to refer to his big brother by the name she gave him for most of the rest of their lives. Jake doesn’t even pretend to be annoyed.

“It was just a matter of time,” Samantha says one night, as she and Betty are getting ready for bed one night not long after Tabby has given Jake his new moniker. “You know what I mean?”

Betty, who has known exactly what Sam means since the day she literally tripped over her future wife at university, smiles and turns down the covers on her side of the bed. 

“That’s Jake,” she says. They’ve spent hours, discussing their son’s odd, charming quirks long into the night, offering up phrases like “old soul” and “wise,” and eventually realized nothing they said could ever completely encompass the loving little person they somehow managed to bring into the world.

“That’s Jake,” Sam agrees, and turns her version of Jake’s golden smile on her wife. Mischief sparkles in her eyes, and Betty wonders how she ended up with three people in her life that she absolutely cannot win against. 

“Ready to get sweaty, Betty?”

Betty groans but can’t hold back her grin. “You are the absolute worst, and that is exactly why I love you.”

…

Sam manages to shock Dean when he insists on a big family Christmas. His extra years on earth apparently helped the younger Winchester warm to the idea of holidays, finally getting to enjoy them with his son as he never did during his own childhood. 

Sam doesn’t have to try very hard to talk everyone into celebrating. Things have been calm and serene, more than a little on the uneventful side, and Dean figures it will add some variety to his afterlife. Something to plan, something to look forward to that won’t be crashed by murderous Elder Gods or various other supernatural entities. 

Probably. 

Dean secretly loves that feeling of finding the perfect present for someone, something he was never really in a position to do back on earth. He takes a deep breath, proactively reminding himself that this is okay, this is allowed, this is good, that everything is not only okay but actually kind of great, really.

He can be happy. He can. He can do this. 

 The shade of red Sam’s face turns before he finally dissolves into laughter is a thousand percent worth the degradation of actually gifting someone a signed vinyl copy of Celine Dion’s first solo album.

“It’s perfect, Dean. Thanks, man.” Sam pulls his brother into a hug, and his giant paw slapping Dean in the middle of the back literally knocks the panic right out of him. Deans huffs, at a loss for words, and hugs Sam back perhaps just a smidge too forcefully before letting him go.

“You’ll never top Sapphire Barbie for best Christmas present, but this runs a close second.” Sam shakes his head, still grinning as he reads over the back cover of the album while Mary and John look on, varying levels of confusion and amusement on their faces.

“What’s he talking about, Dean?” John asks. He takes a long drink of his whiskey. “Sapphire Barbie? Some kinda code word or something?”

Sam and Dean glance at each other, their shoulders tensing automatically. For a moment, Dean can actually feel the phantom hunger pains transposed over the current fullness of his belly, and he can see a tiny Sam (still way more hair than necessary), huddled despondent and hungry under a shitty, moth-eaten motel blanket, convinced there would be no Christmas. 

“Dean, uh...accidentally got me a Barbie for Christmas one year, it was — a, uh — yeah, he wanted to make sure I got a present, so he grabbed it, and…” Sam trails off. 

John huffs a confused laugh, and Dean’s hackles rise at the scoff, so like Sam’s and yet so much more...condescending. John rises from the couch and goes to refill his glass. Sam seems content to let the moment pass, but something in Dean’s gut, something latent and ignored since his heavenly ascension, sparks and smolders bitterly. 

“How the hell do you ‘accidentally’ get somebody a Barbie?” John asks, still chuckling, and Dean suddenly realizes he’s real fucking tired of biting his tongue.

“I stole the Barbie. Stole a couple of other things, too. A Christmas tree, some decorations, a baton.” 

Mary glances between her sons, confused, before turning to John. “Where were you while this happened?” 

A parade of emotions march over John’s face: confusion is followed by slow recognition. Guilt makes a quick appearance only to be chased away by dull, ashamed anger. 

Dean can practically see John’s mind flashing through the scenario, recalling more about the hunt than his own sons on that cold, nasty Christmas Eve. He knows the instant his dad reverts to default setting of laying the blame on his eldest son. Dean braces himself automatically, his body viscerally reacting to the familiar storm on his father’s face.

Dean has the fleeting thought that at least his dad is drinking from a glass now; ought to hurt a lot less than being hit with a whole bottle.

“You left your brother to go steal from somebody else’s home on Christmas? After what happened with the shtriga?” 

Dean knows true anger, near rage, for the first time in heaven, and the bitter wash of it through him is cutting and all too familiar. 

“Pretty stupid thing to do, I know, but I wasn’t even twelve yet, so I wasn’t making the wisest of decisions.”

“Not even twelve?” Mary cuts in. “Sam? Does anybody feel like explaining this to me?”

“What the hell were you thinking, Dean, anything could have—” 

But Dean had a lifetime of being plowed under by his dad’s inability to take responsibility, has had way more than enough of shouldering the blame for shit he should never have been left with in the first place.

“I was thinking that somebody should get a seven-year-old something for Christmas, should make sure he has enough to eat. Where were you, Dad? What were you thinking? Because you sure as hell weren’t thinking about us.”

That knot starts up in Dean’s throat again, the muscles tightening against the fear that blossoms in his chest, echoed from decades of training. Sam’s hand finds Dean’s arm, and Dean looks to him. Instead of the caution or reproach he’s expecting, though, all Sam simply nods. 

“Say it, Dean.”

Dean stands slowly, facing John Winchester with every bit of strength he’s built, every bit of courage he’s earned from a lifetime of terror, and realizes that the angry, bitter man before him is no more a threat to him anymore than Chuck is. And without looking, he knows Sam stands behind him, solid and resolute.

“I wasn’t even twelve. It was Christmas, and you abandoned us. Yeah, I stole Sam a Barbie doll. You know what I got for Christmas that year? The year before? Every fucking year before that for almost as long as I can remember?”

John opens his mouth, even now unable to admit his faults, but Dean barrels on before his dad can get a word out.

“Not a damn thing from you. Not one damn thing. Not presents, not food, not a warm place to sleep or a word of thanks or approval. Not even a fucking phone call to say Merry Goddamn Christmas.” Dean pauses one last time, and it suddenly feels like he’s towering over the man whose shadow always felt too dark, too large, too suffocating; the man whose respect he used to crave more than food and water. 

“What about me, Dad? Huh? What about me?”

Dean doesn’t recall leaving his parents’ house, doesn’t remember driving home, but he finds himself on his own front porch, leaning forward in his rocking chair. He takes in a long, deep breath before scrubbing his hands through hair and leaning against the back of the chair.

A breeze rifles the leaves of a nearby tree, ruffling Dean’s hair. He taps his thumb against the arm of the chair and takes a long moment to breathe in the night air. 

Dean lets his thoughts roll around for a while. The stars creep slowly across the black, the crickets chirp, and the breeze continues to tickle through Dean’s mussed hair. 

“You and I could write the book on shitty dads, am I right, kid?”

He’s not sure why he decides to talk to Jack. Just nice to have someone to talk to, knowing they’re not going to talk right back.

“Could just cut him out. Dunno how that’d work in heaven.” He thinks a moment, then grins to himself. “Not sure Mom’d let me get away with that. Sam would back me up, though.” Dean grins into the somehow not-empty night. “I would be the guy that brings a family feud into paradise, huh?”

Dean takes in the wilderness around him, the empty house at his back, the extra rocking chair for...a visitor, he supposes. He has learned today that heaven, as perfect as it is, still holds anger and bitterness and loneliness, and he figures that’s to be expected. 

“You still did good, kid. You and me, we did good even with our shitty old men in and outta our lives. Glad we cut yours out for good. Guess I’ll figure out how to deal with mine eventually. All I’ve got now is time, anyway.”

Dean pushes up slowly, still surprised at the lack of cricks, pops, and aches that accompanied the action his last couple of years on earth. 

“Night, Jack,” he says into the wind. He glances over at the empty rocking chair one last time. “If you see him, tell him —just tell him—” 

Dean frowns, shakes his head, and turns his back on the night.

…

Jake’s not a crier, not really. There are inevitable tears that come with bad falls, but Jake sheds tears like it’s a physical reaction that he’s getting out of the way so he can move on. 

So when Betty goes to change the sheets in her son’s room, only to find him silently crying on the floor, she panics. Sheets flop forgotten to the side as she drops next to his, reaching instinctively for his still-plump cheeks.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? What happened?”

“Nothing happened, Mama, I’m sorry I scared you,” he sniffles, his eyebrows down low on his small forehead. 

Jake has never lied in his entire young life, and Betty is torn because he is obviously upset about something, but his face is full of nothing but truth and confusion.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Jakey,” she says, settling on the floor next to him and opening her arms. He instantly climbs into her lap, hooking his own arms around her neck and nuzzling under her chin. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Can you tell me what made you cry?”

“I...I don’t know,” he says, his little voice quiet and heavily confused. “I was playing with Tabby, she was helping me build a tower with my blocks, and then Mommy came to get Tabby for her snack.”

Betty is stumped. Jake has never had any kind of separation anxiety, as far as she can tell. He’s spent nights with both sets of grandparents, even a couple of weekends with aunts, uncles, and cousins, and never shed so much as a single tear.

“You...are you crying because you miss Tabby? She’s right in the next room, baby, you can go with her for snack time, you know that.”

“No, Mama, I —I don’t know why I’m crying. Tabby hugged me, she said she loved me, then she went with Mommy, and I felt...really happy. Like —the happiest ever, and...it was too much happy?”

The last part comes out as a question, and honestly Betty isn’t sure how to answer it. 

“Well, baby,” she starts hesitantly, not sure where to lead this particular discussion. “Can you explain  what you mean when you say ‘too much happy’?”

He snuggles closer against her chest, his forehead pressing along her jaw. “I dunno. I think...maybe I’m not supposed to be that happy? Is that why the tears came out? Because I got more happy than I’m supposed to get? Was I wrong, Mama?”

Betty breathes slowly, tightening her hold on the little boy in her arms. “You weren’t wrong, Jake. You can be as happy as you want. There’s never too much happy, I promise.”

She feels him shift, and she looks down to meet his clear, green gaze. He studies her carefully, scrutinizing her expression, and she’s reminded why she’s always been so very careful to tell her children the truth, albeit on levels they can understand.

“You pinky promise?” 

The proffered pinky is smudged, pudgy, and absolutely perfect. Betty hooks her pinky finger with her son’s, bumping his nose gently with her own. 

“Jakey, you have my eternal permission to be as happy as you are capable of feeling. And no one is ever allowed to take that from you. Good?” He nods, and she carefully brushes the tear tracks from his cheeks. “Sometimes feelings are really big, and they’re just a little too big for your body. They have to find a way out, and that’s why the tears come out.”

“Is that why you cry when you watch the kissy movies?” he asks, suddenly smiling. “Your feelings are too big, too?”

“Yup. We’ve got big feelings in this family, Jakey. Better get used to it, kiddo.”

...

More time passes. Dean walks, he talks, he goes through the motions. He heals a little with every conversation, every time he reaches out, and even though some of the wounds feel as fresh as the day he got them, eventually all that’s left are faint scars. He’d never willingly erase the scars, anyway. He earned them, and he’ll be damned if something like a little death and talk therapy could just wipe them away.

Gradually — so gradually Dean doesn’t realize it until Donna makes a comment one night after their regular poker game — Dean learns to not only let his guard down but drop it entirely. He’s shocked to realize the loss of his emotional armor doesn’t even bother him. 

Dean works on Baby, drinks with Bobby, teaches Mary how to make an apple pie from scratch, and even manages to have a couple of honest, semi-civil conversations with his father. They don’t exactly reach Andy and Opie levels of father-son bonding, but John does eventually manage to grudgingly admit he fucked up some (a lot). Dean supposes anyone can make progress in heaven if they try hard enough. 

He’s talked to everyone he can think of, settled scores, smoothed ruffles, filled himself to bursting with absolution. Dean is so absolved he thinks he might punch the next person who pats him on the back and tells him how much good he’s done for the world.

And still, he comes home every night to that extra rocking chair. 

He waits now, waits while he talks with Sam, waits while he walks through the woods, waits while he changes Baby’s oil. He can’t shake the feeling that something is coming. He can feel it around himself, like a suit of armor or a second skin. Nothing terrible, nothing ominous, but something. Which is weird because nothing ever seems to happen in heaven, not really. 

Could be he’s just bored, but Dean doesn’t think that’s it. Not entirely.

He talks to Jack nightly now. It’s a habit, something to help Dean talk through and untangle his thoughts into something he can understand. He looks forward to their talks, being able to get his feelings out without being either validated or rebuffed. Just letting some steam off.

He’s done it for so long that he can barely remember the night he started. Dean knows Jack can hear him, but the kid’s been true to his word, stayed hands off and radio silent. He lets mortals deal with their own issues, keeping himself and the supernatural world well away. Even the angels leave people alone in heaven.

Especially the angels, Dean grudgingly admits to himself, late one night after leaving Sam’s house. Instead of going home to that extra rocking chair, he drives Baby slowly, aimlessly, yet somehow ends up back on that same bridge where he met up Sam all those years ago. 

He parks right at the end (no traffic in heaven) and strolls out to the middle, scuffing his boots and sending little puffs of dust in the air. His hands are stuffed deep in his pockets, out of habit more than anything else, and he lifts his gaze from the ground up to the full moon in the sky.

“Hey, kid,” he says softly. “Hope it’s goin good for you.Things are pretty good here. I know you know, you’re everywhere and all that,” Dean waves his hand vaguely, then continues, “Just wanted to let you know, I guess. I didn’t tell you enough, but we—I —really appreciated you. Appreciate you. You, uh...you did real good, kid. Then and now.” He pauses, then takes a breath, standing straight and letting all pretense go.“Please tell Cas...he did good, and...I miss him. And I know you’re all taking the hands-off approach, but —I dunno, maybe...he could —stop by? Or…”

The silence around Dean is heavy, comforting like a thick blanket.  

Or a tan trenchcoat, he thinks.

“Jack —“

He cuts himself off, though. He spent all this time in heaven working through rivers of bullshit, wearing down mountains of lies and self-loathing until he can finally be honest and open with everyone. And if he’s going to be honest with himself tonight, Jack isn’t who he needs to talk to.

“Sorry kid, I gotta put you on hold.”

Purgatory flashes before his eyes, that sense of loss and being lost, the desperation and certainty that he’d never see his best friend again. 

I can’t do this anymore, he thinks. I can’t pretend anymore. And I’m done lying to myself.

“Cas. Castiel. I hope you can hear me. I miss you. I don’t know where you are. Bobby said you were here, that you helped remake this place into something pretty damned awesome, but I never see you. I can feel you sometimes, can tell some things are up here just because you put ‘em there. Someone will tell a story, and I swear I can feel you standing right beside me, can almost hear you frowning and not understanding the joke. I…”

He knows there’s something left —knows he hasn’t found the right words yet. He has no idea what that right thing is, or even what he’s still waiting for, but he figures if he just barrels on, it’ll come to him. 

“There was too much in the way, back on earth, in Purgatory. Too much always coming after us, trying to kill us or worse. I got in my own damned way, never knew what to say or how to say it. Didn’t think I deserved...I should’ve…”

He’s not sure what’s more bizarre, that he’s praying to someone who probably won’t respond — probably can’t even hear him — or that he’s doing so in a place wildly opposite from that last time he prayed like this. 

Dean isn’t sure how he keeps ending up in this situation, but here he is, gasping out his feelings to the night air, barely able to squeeze the words past that perpetual knot in his throat. 

“It’s a lot clearer up here, more room to breathe and think. This heaven you and Jack made...it’s great. Hell, it’s damn near perfect. But there’s no you. And I just can’t see my heaven as right without you. I can’t...I can’t take my forever if you’re not in it.”

A wispy cloud, silver in the moonlight, drifts across an otherwise flawless sky. Dean stares upwards for several minutes, wondering if Cas can see the same stars tonight, wherever he is. 

“Maybe...I don’t know if you can come back. Or if you even left. I don’t know how any of it works.”

He’s on the cusp. He can almost taste the next step. 

Dean’s at a loss, though. He could be brave: he could say everything he should’ve said in that last moment, everything he should have told Cas. 

Or he could take the comfortable path, revert to being a dick and tell Cas exactly how he feels about all this silent treatment, about the no-show in heaven or not telling him about his deal with the Empty until it was too late, about waiting until the last second so Dean would have no time—

Or he could do both. 

Both is good.

Metal railings squeak under Dean’s punishing grip. He’s not sure when he grabbed hold of the bridge itself, but right now he needs all the support he can get.

“You left me! You should have told me, given me a chance. Another chance, just one more. I’m sorry, Cas, I knew but I didn’t. I— I should’ve told you, should’ve held you, I could have—“

The tears flow unimpeded, the air squeezed from his lungs in convulsive gasps, but Dean can’t stop now.

“I should have told you everything I felt, every day. I should have trusted you more, and I’m so sorry. You were always family, you were always there for me when I needed you. We both fucked up so many times, lost so much time together. I was so angry at you, at me, at everyone and everything, and I let it get in the way.”

The silence around him is maddening. Here he is, ripping his guts out in the middle of the bridge, and all he gets back is crickets and evening breezes. Dean shoves off the railing, too frantic to stay still.

“Gimme something, Cas, anything! I’m pouring my heart out! I fucked up, and I’m sorry, and I swear I’m gonna do better, but you’ve gotta give me the chance! Just...just give me some sort of answer, please? Let me know you’re there!”

The silence persists. 

Just as quickly as Dean’s rage crescendos, it fizzles suddenly. He drops to the ground, back and head slamming hard against the side of the bridge as he lets out a roar of helpless rage. His fists grip his hair, teeth grinding against the wave of helplessness that threatens to overwhelm him.

“I missed my chance, I waited too long, I should’ve said— I should have—“

And then it comes to him.

His hands draw down from his hair, scrubbing his face before steepling his fingers in front of his mouth. He can’t believe it’s taken him this long to realize. 

“I’m an idiot.” His voice is barely audible, even to his own ears, but he has no doubt his words will reach their intended destination. “This place you built, you and Jack, it’s as good as it gets. I deserve it, I earned it. I got my family, I got the easy life for a while. I got my family. I had my rest. There’s only one thing left in the universe I need, only one person I want.”

Dean stands, dusting himself off and turning his face back up to the stars. 

“I’m ready, Cas. I— I love you. And I’m ready for the next thing. Whatever that is. However that is. As long as—”

One last pause.

“As long as you’re there, that’s all I need.”

...

The inevitable day of separation comes: Jake’s first day of kindergarten. Samantha is proud of her guardian warrior, knows he’s going to succeed at everything he puts his little bullheaded mind to. Betty hopes very hard that he won’t be too lonely without Tabitha there with him. Tabitha only knows that Jake’s finger tastes good and makes her gums feel better when she chews on it.

Jake, as always, approaches this monumental step with aplomb and logic. 

“I’ll give it a shot,” he says casually as his little sister gnaws on his thumb. “An’ if I don’t like it, I’ll just stay here and take care of Tabby. You an’ Mommy can go to work, then, ‘kay, Mama? I can make nut butter n’ jelly sammiches. But I’ll try it out.”

...

School isn’t so bad, Jake decides on his second day. His teacher Mrs. Harris seems to know what she’s doing (she already knows who she can trust with scissors and glue), and the other kids are nice enough. There’s different toys (“learning tools”, Mrs. Harris calls them), so that’s interesting enough, but—

Something is missing.

“Can you tell me what you mean, Jakey?” Betty asks at dinner that night. “Are there supplies you need? We got everything on the list.” She wipes a smear of sweet potato off Tabitha’s face before looking back to her son. His mouth is turned down in a frown of concentration, like he’s trying to remember something.

“I don’t need anything, Mama, just...someone. I need someone. My friend hasn’t come to school yet.”

“It takes time to make friends, baby,” Samantha says. “It’s only the second day of school. Have you tried asking anyone to play yet?”

“Yeah, and they’re fun and all, but they aren’t my friend. My friend isn’t here yet,” Jake says. Then his frown vanishes with the sudden mood change of a five-year-old, and he turns beseeching eyes on Betty, aiming unerringly at the softer target. “I finished my green beans. That means dessert now, right, Mama?”

Jake decides on the third day that the best place to wait for his friend (he just knows he’s going to show up any day now) is the playground.

“My friend likes the playground,” he murmurs. “That’s good, I like the playground, too.” He eats his lunch slowly, watching the other kids wolf down their food so they can have extra playtime. He’s barely finished his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, though, when he’s distracted by movement on the other side of the play yard. The door to the school opens and the school secretary steps out. Then she turns and gently pulls someone out from behind her.

A small boy stands in the doorway, white shirt tucked neatly into black slacks. His blue tie is a little loose, as if he’s been tugging on it, and his tan jacket is a little too big, hanging loosely around his small frame. His hair looks like someone was in too much of a rush to comb it properly. He clutches a pink piece of paper in one hand and, in the other, a backpack inexplicably decorated with flying, winged slices of pizza. 

“Late drop-off, parent had to run,” the secretary tells Mrs. Harris before tiptoeing out of the room. 

With an anxious glance at the other children, the boy scuttles forward and immediately trips over his own untied shoelaces.

Jake is at the little boy’s side before anyone else can react, kneeling down to check on him. The prone child is too shocked to cry, both by the fall and by the sudden appearance of this unknown factor. Jake checks him over, then nudges him until he sits up. 

“You gotta keep ‘em double tied,” Jake says seriously. “Or else that’ll happen all the time.” Without waiting for an answer, Jake sets about the laborious task of looping each set of laces in turn, rabbits chasing each other around trees and down holes until the shoes are secure.

Jake climbs to his feet and reaches down, gripping the other boy’s shoulders and helping him stand. A dark smear of jelly stains the shoulder of the coat in the shape of a smudged purple handprint.

“Thank...thank you,” the smaller boys whispers. He lifts his eyes hesitantly, and clear blue meets olive green for the first time. “I’m Chris.”

“I’m Jake.” He thinks for a long moment, frowning. Something is settling in his chest, something big and permanent and scary; at first he thinks it’s too much. 

Then he thinks back to what Mama told him: you can be as happy as you want. 

He smiles at Chris. “You’re with me. You’re the one I was waiting for.”

Hope and just a bit of delight flicker across Chris’s eager face. 

“I am? You mean it?”

Jake nods and grabs his new friend’s hand. “Yep. Now you’re here, that’s all I need. And nobody's allowed to take you from me, Mama said so. C’mon, let’s play cars.”

[hb-writes]

Thank you. That’s Enough.

Inspired by my 100+ lovely followers, @love-me-a-good-prompt’s “THANK YOU IDEAS” prompt list, and a request from a lovely anon.

Summary: A Suits story from the Lines to Live By Universe. Charlie is not impressed when she comes home to find her brother with his on-again, off-again girlfriend, Scottie.

Featuring: Harvey Specter, Charlie Specter (OC), Dana Scott

—

When Charlie came up in the elevator, she saw a petite woman in a cream-colored dress straddling her brother’s lap, long dark brown hair hanging over her shoulder. The hair was a curtain, obscuring what Charlie had no desire to see but she groaned nonetheless.

“Honey, I’m home,” Charlie called out in monotone, tossing her bag down on the end of the couch before bringing her arms up to cross over her chest.

Scottie quickly pulled away from Harvey and settled onto his lap as they both stared at the girl. 

Harvey took a deep breath before he spoke. “What are you doing here, Charlie?” 

“I live here,” she answered, nodding towards Scottie. “What is she doing here?” 

Harvey took another deep breath and shifted Scottie off of his lap. He hadn’t told his sister that the reason for pawning her off on Mike for the evening was because Scottie was in town. He had been hoping for once to avoid the whole song and dance Charlie and Scottie seemed intent on every time they met. 

“Hello, Charlotte,” Scottie said as she fixed her hair. “Nice to see you as always.”

Harvey stood up to meet his little sister by the elevator, but Charlie’s eyes didn’t leave Scottie’s as she looked the woman up and down. 

“Yeah, right. Hi.” 

Harvey cleared his throat. “You’re supposed to be at Mike’s right now.”

Charlie scoffed. “And you’re not supposed to be doing that with her in the same spot where you help your kid sister with her homework.”

“Oh, so, now you’re my “kid sister” not my “almost an adult” sister who doesn’t need a babysitter? Convenient. Where’s your babysitter, kiddo?”

Charlie bit her lip a moment. She didn’t want Mike to get in trouble. It had been her idea to come home early, not his. Mike had actually been quite insistent that she stay with him, but Charlie had called the cab herself and didn’t leave him much room to argue. She was surprised Mike hadn’t let Harvey know yet to expect her, but maybe he had and Harvey just hadn’t seen the message yet.

“I cut him loose,” Charlie said.

“You cut him loose?”

“Yeah, I wanted to come home and Mike was exhausted from all the extra work you’re giving him lately, so I cut him loose. I didn’t stutter.”

“Alright, if you’re gonna have an attitude like that you can just go to your room,” Harvey said, starting to guide her that direction with a hand on her shoulder.

“Fine,” Charlie answered, pushing his hand away. “I will. Gladly. Just let me get something to eat and—”

“Actually, no, I’ve got a better idea,” Harvey interrupted, a moment of clarity passing through him as he realized that he was giving his sister exactly what she wanted in sending her to her room, nearly encouraging her rude behavior. The girl didn’t need any more encouragement in that area. “Go get changed into something nice. We’re going out,” Harvey said. 

Charlie glanced towards Scottie for a moment. “She’s leaving then?”

“No, Scottie’s coming with us.”

“No.” Charlie shook her head. “I’m not going then. I’ll just stay here.”

“Yes, you are and I don’t care if I have to tie you to the goddamn roof of the cab.”

Charlie mumbled an incoherent swear word, rolling her eyes.

“Excuse me?”

Charlie cleared her throat, a smug grin gracing her lips for a moment before she spoke. “I said I hope we’re not going to the same place we went with Donna last time.” 

Harvey took another deep breath, the third or fourth since his sister first came through the door less than three minutes before. He wasn’t sure he’d make it through a cab ride or dinner with her if she was intent on being like this, intent on purposefully pushing his buttons, and Scottie’s.

“Or the place we went with that other girl...the sommelier from that place uptown. What the heck was her name?” 

“Go get changed, Charlie,” Harvey said, moving to guide her out of the room once again.

“Oh, it was Lauren!” Charlie answered, turning back to face him, twisting out of his grasp. “No, that’s not right, is it? Maybe um, Meredith? Or was Meredith the grad studen—” 

“Alright, Charlotte. Go.” 

“It’s really bothering me though, that one girl’s name…You just bring so many of your ‘friends’ around sometimes it’s hard for me to keep track.”

The deep breaths were losing their efficacy but Harvey took another anyway to keep himself from strangling his sister. For a man usually so unfazed, his sister had found a weak spot in embarrassing him in front of Scottie. That woman didn’t need the ammunition his sister was providing. 

“I’m not sure exactly what you’re after here, Charlotte.”

Charlie shrugged. “If you’re forcing me to go for another dinner with another one of your friends, I just don’t want to go someplace horrible, it’s the one we went to with uh... Oh, it was with the lady you worked with. We didn’t like it. I don’t think Scottie would like it either.”

“Someone Harvey works with? You must mean Zoe, then? Zoe Lawford?” Scottie asked, meeting Harvey’s eye before looking to Charlie. Neither Specter had forgotten Scottie was there exactly, but they’d been doing a pretty decent job at excluding her. 

“Yeah, I think you’re right, actually,” Charlie answered. "I liked Zoe. What ever happened to her, Harvey?”

“If I were you—” 

“Well, Zoe always was a nice girl,” Scottie cut him off. “She graduated what, two years before us, Harvey?” 

Harvey turned from Charlie when Scottie interrupted, a bit at a loss between the two of them. He’d been about to threaten his sister, about to say she should be more worried about what was going to happen to her if she didn’t cut it out, but with Scottie’s words he sensed a shift in the room, sensed that somehow Charlie and Scottie were now on the same side. Though he didn’t like it and certainly didn’t understand it, he preferred their twisted alliance to the petty bickering.

Charlie shrugged. “She was nicer than most of Harvey’s friends. He’s brought home some real losers over the years... probably why he’s pushing forty and still single.” 

“Alright. Thank you, Charlotte. That’s enough,” Harvey answered. “Go get dressed or we’re dropping you off with Louis.” 

Charlie rolled her eyes but started moving towards her bedroom without a response. 

Harvey rubbed his hand over his face before turning back to Scottie, glad for a small reprieve. “Do you have to encourage her?” 

Scottie smirked as she stood up and gave him a light peck on the lips. “I don’t think your sister needs encouragement from anyone to ridicule you, Harvey.” 

“Exactly, that’s my point.” 

“You’re always saying you wish we’d get along,” she answered. “We were getting along better than ever just now.”

“She called you a loser, Scottie,” he answered, smiling.

“One of many, apparently,” Scottie answered. “I think you got off worse.” 

Harvey rubbed at the back of his neck. “My sister exaggerates.” 

“Of course.” Scottie nodded, reaching up to set her own hands behind his neck as she looked into Harvey’s eyes. “She’s all big talk. Probably gets it from her brother.” 

Harvey and Scottie turned at the sound of an excessive clearing of a throat echoing from the hallway. 

“I’m ready to come out so if you’re making out now would be a great time to stop,” Charlie announced. 

Harvey rubbed at his face again. “This was a mistake.” 

Scottie playfully tapped his cheek. “Aw, come on, Harvey. We’re going to have loads of fun.” 

—

Read More Lines to Live By here.

[janicho88]

Come Back

Paring- Dean x Reader

Summary- You push Dean away when a monster attacks, and end up with a small injury instead of him.  How does Dean repay you? By telling you to get out.  Where will you go, what are you going to do now?  Will you find your way back, or does fate have other plans? 

Warnings-Lot of angst, Little, I mean little fluff in this one. Language, just a few words.  Angry Dean, upset reader,  Major character injury and hospitalization, possible brain injury.

A/N This story decided to take its own course.  It was only going to have a smidge of angst, and well this happened.  I’m sorry. There will be a part 2. 

It had been a rough hunt, you all thought you were on a salt and burn for a vengeful spirit terrorizing a retreat. Turns out it was a couple of werewolves changing their tactics, picking off the participants.  One of the werewolves took you all by surprise when it snuck up behind Dean and grabbed for him. You quickly pushed him out of the way as the werewolves claws came down, tearing through your side.  The boys quickly fired off shots taking out that one. Turning they quickly got its friend who came at you next

Dean never spoke to you as you all cleaned up the mess and left.  Sam had helped you quickly with your cuts and you headed back to the bunker. Exiting Baby, and walking inside you barely made it into the War room before Dean started yelling at you.  He told you how reckless you were, how you were going to get them hurt, and you were in the way.  They would be better off if you weren’t hunting, or around anymore. When you couldn’t hold back your tears anymore you responded with a ‘fine’ and headed to your room.  You collapsed crying on your bed, you just hadn’t wanted Dean to get hurt.

It was well past midnight when you had calmed down, you began gathering your belongings in your duffel bags.  If they boys didn’t want you here, you would leave.  You left a note for Sam that just said, Be safe.  Heading to your car, you tossed your things in and took off for Jody’s.

A week later Jody had heard the boys were on a case nearby.  You didn’t want to chance running into them so you left quickly to take a hunt in Washington. That had been the last time you talked with Jody.  You didn’t want to risk talking to the guys friends, and making Dean even madder at you.  Since you left neither of them had tried to contacted you. 

You were on your own taking hunt after hunt, to the point you didn’t care if you made it.  You had been friends with the guys since you were kids, had moved into the bunker two years ago, and been fighting your feelings for Dean for years.  It had been just over two months since you left, that was the longest you had ever gone without talking to one of them, it definitely hit you hard.

You were in Minnesota, and had to break down and ask Donna for help with a Vamp’s nest.  Donna hadn’t seen you in a while and when you got out of your car at the motel, she had to hide her shock. There were dark circles under your eyes, it looked like you hadn’t been sleeping much if at all,  and you definitely had lost weight.

“Hey lady, how are you doin?” she asked.

“Fine, Donna.  Thanks for the backup on this.  How have you been?”

“You Betcha! Good, all good. Saw Jody and the girls last week.”

“How are they?”

“They’re all good.  So um have you talked to the guys..”

“Don’t go there Donna,” you interrupted.

You two went to the office and got a room to share. You had a little bit of work to do on the case before you could hit the nest.  After splitting up and gathering information from police and victims you met back at the hotel.  Putting everything you had together you were ready for the next day, and Donna went to sleep.  While she was out, you sharpened your machete, and looked over your plan again before crashing for a few hours.

The next morning went well in regards to you both making it out alive, uninjured was another story. You only made it out because Donna had quick reflexes.  After beheading 5 vamps you were slowing and missed one behind you.  Donna turned just in time to take it down.  Neither of you had any serious injuries, a few bumps, bruises, and you had minor cuts where one of the vamps had gotten a hold of you and bitten.

 Cleaning up back at the hotel Donna got on you about taking better care of yourself.  You told her you were fine and walked into the bathroom shutting the door.  Donna was asleep when you came out after your shower.  You wrote her a note thanking her for her help and telling her you were sorry, but had to get on the road.  You walked out and hit the road alone again. 

It was a few weeks later when you got a call from Jody.  Alex’s birthday was coming up and they were going to have a party at Donna’s cabin.  She really wanted you to join them.  You told her you would try, but were unable to make any promises. You weren’t going to bring them up but had a feeling the guys would be there, and you weren’t sure if you were up to seeing them.  Sam had texted you a few times, but you hadn’t responded.  Dean never tried to get a hold of you.

Day of the party you pulled up to the old cabin, sure enough, Baby, was parked amongst the other cars.  You sat staring at the cars debating what to do.  Go in for Alex, or let the fear of running into Dean keep you away.  A tapping at your window had you jumping in your seat  Turning your head you saw Sam standing outside your car.  Opening your door you exited the car.

“Hey, I wasn’t sure if I should come out or not. After a half hour passed without you getting out I figured I would come see you before you just drove off again.”

He gave you a hug and you said “Hi, Sam.”

“That’s all I get, hi?  You have been gone four months without a word.  How are you, where have you been?”

“I’m fine, been here and there.”

“Y/N, come on.”

“What do you want me to say, Sam?  I was told to leave, that you both would be better off!” 

“You know how Dean gets after one of us gets hurt, especially if it is to  save him.  He was worried, yes, he took it out all wrong.  He misses you, we both do.”

“I highly doubt that,” you respond walking past Sam toward the cabin.

Entering the house Jody and Charlie were the first people you ran into. The fiery red head quickly wrapped you in a big hug, Jody quickly following.  You spoke with both of them for a few minutes, catching up on what you missed over the last few months before moving further into the cabin.  You were searching out the birthday girl when you headed toward the kitchen.  As you rounded the corner you saw Dean in there and quickly turned the other way.  Back already turned, you missed the way Dean’s head shot up with a hopeful look that fell swiftly when he saw you were retreating from him.  

Walking back into the living room you saw Donna talking with Alex and Claire and joined that group.  Donna and Alex both giving you a hug, while Claire gave you a “what’s up runner?”.

Claire had been talking about a hunt she went on with Jody, while Alex filled you all in on her classes and work.  When Donna went to check on Dean who was in charge of the grill, and Claire was occupied by Castiel, Alex asked if you wanted to join her out front.

“What’s wrong birthday girl?”

“I just needed some air, too many people in there for me.”

“Well it is a party, you know, for you.”

“It’s a party I didn’t want.  Love you all, but I’m not the big party type.  You are the reason for the party, my birthday is the excuse to get you here.”

“What are you talking about Alex?”

“We all know what’s going on with you, you are avoiding everyone.  So we came up with a reason to get you to come around.  Jody bought me concert tickets to agree.”

“I’m fine, there was no need to do this.”

“Yes, there was.  We are all worried about you, Dean especially.  He’s constantly talking to Jody and Donna about you, a get together was his idea.  We just added the why.

“Dean made it clear, he doesn’t want me around.  The man never even tried to contact me, and you and Sam want me to think he cares about how I’m doing.”

“He really does.”

“I can’t do this,”  You turned and walked back in the cabin to grab your coat and keys, it was time to go.

Donna and Sam were standing near your coat when you went to grab it.

“Hey where are you going?” Sam asked.

“Time for me to go.”

“You barely got here, it’s Alex’s birthday, stay awhile.”

“Right it’s her party you apparently threw because of me, I need to go, don’t worry about me anymore.”

Dean saw you grabbing your things and heading outside.  “Y/N, Y/N wait please!”

“I don’t want to talk to you, why should I Dean?”

“I need to talk to you please, stop!”

You stopped walking, but didn’t turn around.  “Why know, after four months, why do you suddenly care about talking to me?”

“I have always cared about you, I didn’t think you would have left or ignored us for the last four months, I never thought you would have been hunting on your own.”

“You told me you were better off without me!  Did you really expect me to stick around?”

“I was an idiot, I figured you would have ignored me for the night, maybe the next day.  When Sam said you were gone I called Donna and Jody, and Jody said you were at her house.  I thought you would stay there for a few days, then come home.  We took a hunt close by, I was going to come get you and apologize, but you were gone.  You’ve been running nonstop, you need a break! You and I both know you shouldn’t be hunting alone.”

You just stood there with you back to Dean, not answering him.

“Forgive me, don’t forgive, hell don’t even talk to me anymore!  I don’t care as long as you come back, and I know you're safe and not hunting alone. Please Y/N!”  You turned around when you heard the break in Dean’s voice, and there were tears on his face to match.

“Please, don't run again, let’s go back inside.  When we leave tonight, I wish you would come back to the bunker.  If you can’t do that at least go to Jody or Donna’s, don’t go back on your own.  I need to know your safe,” he begged.

“Why do you care about where I am now? You said it yourself, I’ve been gone four months, if you really wanted to know where I was or talked to me you could have tried calling.”

“Sam called you, you never answered.”

“Right, Sam did.  But never you, you didn’t care where I was!”

“NO! I was worried sick about you! If you’re not going to answer Sam, why in the hell would you answer ME? I called other hunters and asked if they saw you to let me know without telling you.  I went after you so many times, but by the time I got the call and got there you were gone.  That Vamp’s case you took with Donna?  I woke her up at 2 am pounding on the door, but you had already left.”

“You wanted me to leave, and I didn’t want to stick around your friends get yelled at from you again.  I don’t want to put them in any more danger by being around me like you said.” 

“I was mad that night because you got hurt.  You got hurt trying to save me.  I would rather a monster went after me than you any day.  It would kill me if I lost you.  These last four months have been worse than my four months in hell, but at least I knew you were alive.”

Stepping closer to him you asked, “Dean, why do you care so much about what happens to me, Sam I get, he’s your brother.  Me, I’m just your friend.”

“You used to be me best friend, then I did something stupid.  I fell in love with you.  I couldn’t do that to you though.  You deserve better, and if I ever did anything about those feelings you would have a big target on yourself.  Not to mention I couldn’t lose my best friend, when she didn’t feel the same.  So I did what I needed to keep you safe, I tried to push you away.  This last time I pushed you too far, I never wanted to push you out of the bunker.  I hated hurting you, but I just couldn’t let you get close.  Then I lost you anyway.”  Tears were falling from both of your faces now.

You walked closer to Dean, putting your hand up to stop him from talking, “Can we go back to the part where you said you fell in love with me?  Do you still feel that way?”

Instead of answering you Dean moved your hand and crashed his lips into yours.  Neither of you pulling away until you needed air.  “Does that answer your question?  Does that mean I’m not the only one who feels this way ”

“Yes to both.  But it also doesn’t mean you're off the hook Winchester.  When I leave here, I’ll do what you asked, and not go off on my own.  I will go back to Jody’s.”  Dean’s face fell at that.  “I won’t shut you out this time.  I think we have some talking to do before I come back to the bunker.”

“You’ll come back?”

“Eventually, I think so.  I’m not going to promise you something I don’t know if I can keep.”

“Why don’t you just come back now?”

“I know you, you know you, I come back now and we don’t settle anything.  We get back to the bunker and we end up falling in bed. You hurt me Dean, and I’m not over that yet.  I need some time to process all this, we need to work through this before jumping in.”

The two of you headed back inside to join the others.  Sam came up when Dean went back to check the grill he abandoned.

“Does this mean you are coming home with us?” Sam asked with a smile.

“No.”

“Wait, what?  I saw you two outside.  It looked like everything was good between you?”

“Okay, one, you really need to work on this peeping Tom thing you have going on.  Second time today you’ve watched me through a window buddy.  Two, things are better.  I’m not ready to come back yet.  He hurt me, and I need to work over everything he said to me today.  When we leave I’m going to go stay with Jody.”

“Please don’t shut us out this time.”

“I won’t, your brother and I have a few things to talk about.”

After the party you headed for Jody’s.  Claire rode with you, while Alex was with Jody.  

“You know he is crazy about you right?  He was driving everyone crazy when you went off on your own.”

“What?” You had been lost in your thoughts and missed what Claire had said.  

“Dean, he went nuts when you left.  I know you two talked, Sam said you were making out.  So why are you coming home with us?”

“I need a little more time Claire.”  The rest of the ride was silent except for the radio.  

               Gif by soluscheese

You had spent almost two weeks at Jody’s. Dean had called you every day to talk, the two of you talking about the day, hunts the guys took, one you went on with Claire, much to Dean’s dismay.  You had talked a few times about the fact Dean really didn’t want you hunting, but that was only because he was worried you would get hurt.  Almost every call ended with him apologizing for what he did, and telling you he hoped you would come back soon.  A few days after you arrived a bouquet of flowers was delivered, white and pink roses with carnations of the same color.  All your favorites.  The card said, ‘I can’t wait for you to come back home. Love Dean.’  

Jody had sat you down to talk about the whole situation with you.  You admitted you had forgiven Dean for what he said, and you understood why.  You were afraid to go back to the bunker, you just didn’t know why.  Talking over everything with Jody helped you see, you were scared to go back knowing how Dean felt about you.  Up until this fight Dean had been the one constant in your life, well except for his time in hell, and purgatory.  You knew how you felt about him, but worried that his feelings weren’t going to last.  Then what were you going to do?  Have to leave the bunker and lose your best friends again? You really did love Dean, and you owed it to him and you to give this a chance.

You had been putting your things back in your duffle bag at the end of the second week, it was time to go home.  Your phone rang, but this time it wasn’t Dean on the other end, it was Sam.  

“Y/N, Dean’s in the hospital and I can’t reach Cas.” was all you heard before dropping to the floor, Jody took the phone and Sam filled her in.

 Dean had been hurt on their last case.  They thought there were four demons, they had those taken care of and cleaned up.  They were back at the motel when one smoked into the little cleaning lady and grabbed Dean.  Sam had gone out to grab dinner and came back to a trashed hotel room and Dean gone. Luckily his phone was in his pocket and he could trace it.  By the time he found him the Demon had beat him up pretty bad.  He had multiple cuts, and bruises, they were worried about internal injuries and were running tests now. 

The hunt was in Nebraska, just a few hours south of where you were, you grabbed the bag you had been packing and ran out to your car.  Jody wasn’t even out of the house before you pulled out of the driveway.

You made the drive much quicker than usual, a call to Sam gave you the floor and the room number Dean had just been transferred to.  When you arrived up there Sam met you in the hall Dean was on the ICU floor so only family was allowed in the room.  Sam had told the nurses you were his wife so you would be able to enter. 

Walking up to his bedside you could feel the tears sliding down your face again.  Talking to Jody yesterday you were so worried about what would happen if a relationship didn’t work and you lost your best friend.  You should have been thinking more of what you guys do, and how that could take Dean from you any day.  You had been in love with Dean for years and wanted this more than anything, why had you fought it.  Now you might never get that chance.  Sitting down in the chair beside the bed you grabbed one of Dean’s hands with one of yours and the other ran through his hair.  Leaning up slightly you placed a kiss on his cheek, careful to avoid the tube running out of his mouth. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t come home with you when we left Donna’s.  I was fighting us, and I never should have done that.  You are it for me Dean Winchester, I just need you to wake up now.  Please Baby, can you wake up for me?”

The only response you got was the steady beat of his heart on the hospital machines.  Sam came in and sat in the chair on the other side of the bed, both of you waiting for any sign of Dean waking up. Sam told you Dean had gone into surgery before you got here.  They had found some internal bleeding which needed to be repaired, he had lost a fair amount of blood and also needed a blood transfusion, it didn’t appear any organs were damaged.

 A neurologist came to talk to you a few hours later.  Both the MRI and CT scan of Dean’s head showed slight swelling around the brain.  This could just be bruising and go down before Dean wakes up, from a concussion, or something more.  They would be keeping an eye on him, but until he woke up there was no telling how bad it was.   

Both you and Sam spent the night in the hospital, with no changes appearing in Dean.  A nurse and doctor came to check him over and asked the two of you to step out for a few minutes.  Sam convinced you to go to the cafeteria to at least get a coffee or something.  Walking back to Dean’s room with Sam’s coffee and your hot chocolate, you saw the doctor leaving the room.  When he looked up and saw you he came over to talk to both.  

“His vitals are getting stronger, still weak but better than yesterday.  We don’t want to take him for another CT scan right now, so I can’t tell you if the swelling has gone down.

“When will he wake up?” you asked.

“That’s hard to say.  If he keeps fighting it could be a few days, although if he takes a turn there is a chance he may not wake up.”

Sam had to grab you with his free hand to keep you from falling when your knees buckled. Dean, might not wake up.  That couldn’t happen, he had to come back to you.  The two of you headed back into the room to sit and wait.  Going back to your chair you grabbed Dean’s hand in yours once again, and pleading with him to please wake up.  It had fallen to Sam to keep Jody, Donna, Charlie, and Garth appraised of Dean’s condition.  They would have been there in a heartbeat to see him, but wouldn’t have been allowed into his room.  You couldn’t bring yourself to talk to anyone.  Although you kept praying to Cas, who had yet to appear. 

The fourth day sitting in the hospital you caught Sam watching you.

“Yes?”

“I’m just wondering what you are going to do when Dean wakes up?”

“What do you mean?’

“Are you going to run again?  I don’t know if Dean could handle that.”

“No, I was actually packing my bag to come back when you called me.  He’s it for me Sam, I can’t lose him.” you tell him with tears in your eyes once again.

Two days later your head was laying on the bed, with your hand holding Dean’s when you felt movement.  You jerked up so fast Sam jumped at your reaction.  Looking down at Dean’s hand his fingers were starting to move.  

“Dean? Baby can you hear me?”

“Dean, it's Sam and Y/N, can you hear us?” Sam ran to the hall to get a nurse or doctor.

“Please, please wake up Dean.  Come back to me.”

Sam came back in the room followed by a doctor and nurses, who pushed you back from Dean.  He was slowly becoming more coherent, when he started fighting the tube in his throat they pulled it out.  Sam and you were in the corner watching, hoping this was it, Dean was finally coming back to you.  They checked his vitals, everything looked good.  Someone went to get him ice chips another got him readjusted.  Since he was awake they were moving him to a room soon, and the neurologist would be in to check on him.  Dean had yet to say anything but you all figured it was because his throat was so dry from days without drinking.  You took the ice chips from the nurse so you could give them to Dean.

Watching the last of the medical staff clear out you gave Dean an ice chip and turned to him with a smile.

“I am so so happy to see you’re awake and okay! I was so afraid I had lost you,” you tell him as you lean down to kiss him.

“I’m glad you're excited to see me Darlin.  Um..  Who are you exactly?”

Part 2

Tags- @talesmaniac89 @malfoysqueen14​  @whatareyousearchingfordean​ @emoryhemsworth​  @superfanficnatural​ @flamencodiva​ @winchest09​ @deanwanddamons​ @katehuntington​ @anathewierdo​

[claudiasjeancregg]

38, CJ/Toby if you feel like it :)

38. “You fainted… straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.” CJ Cregg/Toby Ziegler (1.6k words)

“You fainted… straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

CJ rolled her eyes at him, taking the water from his outstretched hand. 

“I did not faint,” she reminded him. “I fell asleep. And if I wanted your attention, I’d have it.” 

Toby quirked an eyebrow at her teasing, trying to maintain the playful tone in the room. But he couldn’t hide his expression- it was painfully obvious how he felt. He was worried about her. She hadn’t slept in days, and as much as she tried to hide it, it was obvious to see she wasn’t doing well. He watched her sip the water, pretending not to notice her hand shaking. 

“You need to sleep, CJ.” 

His voice was soft but firm- taking care of herself was the one thing she couldn’t push to the bottom of her priority list. Not under his watch. 

“I’m fine!” she insisted. She set her glass down with a thump, needing her hands to make her point. 

“I’m not a child. I can take care of myself.” 

“But you don't,” he pointed out. 

She picked up her things with a deep sigh, and started towards the door of his apartment. She hated when he treated her like this, like some inept little girl who needed help. She was fine. She was the Chief of Staff to the President, damn it. She had to be fine. 

“What, am I wrong?” he called after her. 

She paused, not turning around. 

“You fell asleep standing up! Then, you fell straight into me. What if you had been in the Sit Room, or a meeting, or-” 

“Jesus, Toby, I get it. I get that I’m not handling this job well, that I can’t do it all like you or Josh. But guess what? I’m still the Chief of Staff, whether you like it or not. It’s not your job to take care of me.” 

Toby’s eyes were wide and incomprehensive. How had this turned into an argument so quickly? How had she so clearly misunderstood the meaning of what he was saying? How could she believe that he thought those things? 

He watched CJ recover from her outburst. All the pent up frustration and all of the exhaustion had burst out of her at once, and he knew she needed a minute. Still, all he wanted to do was wrap her up in his arms and hold her until she fell asleep. But he knew that wasn’t what she needed- well, not right now. For now, she needed reassurance, though she would never admit it. She needed his support, something he had been embarrassingly bad at giving her recently. 

“Well, someone needs to.”

 She laughed bitterly- “Oh, so I’m a chore.” 

“You’re not-” 

Toby sighed. There was no reasoning with her when she was like this, especially not about something this sensitive. But he had to try, right? 

“I’m not saying you’re not handling the job well. That’s the exact opposite of what I’m saying, and you know that.” 

She opened her mouth to say something, but he kept going. 

“You’re working too hard, CJ. You’re doing a- a phenomenal job as Chief Of Staff, but that’s all you should be doing! You shouldn’t be dealing with the press, and going down to the Hill, or negotiating. What you have to do is a million times harder than what Leo had to do, and you’re doing it. But you need to delegate, okay? Hire some people, promote some people, I don't know. And, uh-” 

His voice was softer now, and surprisingly gentle. 

“If you need help, you should ask.” 

CJ rubbed her neck, which he knew meant she was stressed. And sore, he bet- he had seen her sleep on her couch too many times in the past week. 

He kept going, needing her to understand what he was saying. 

“It’s not my job to take care of you. But I do it because I-” he swallowed, looking at the floor. 

“Because Leo had a heart attack, and Josh got shot, and Donna got blown up, and the President has MS.” 

He wasn’t sure how to say it in a way that made sense. All he knew was that everyone had left, everyone had gotten hurt- except them. She couldn’t leave him too. He wouldn’t let her. 

When Toby looked back up, CJ was staring at him. 

“Leo had a heart attack because he was an addict-” 

“Leo had a heart attack because he didn't sleep for six years!” 

Her eyes glistened as he yelled, and for a minute he was worried he had scared her. Then CJ walked back over to him, placing her hand on his cheek. Her lips were pressed tightly together and her hand was cold. He let himself wonder for a moment if he should be worried about that, before remembering that they lived in DC and it was December. 

“Okay. I’ll sleep.” 

He knew she was saying more than that, that those words meant that she was listening to him. But he couldn’t resist.

“And you’ll drink more water? And not that crappy, calorie infested coffee you make Charlie get you. Actual water.” 

She huffed, moving her hand from his cheek. 

“Yes, Dad, I’ll eat my vegetables.” 

He tried to glare at her, but couldn’t manage it. CJ smiled at him, looking happier than he’d seen her in weeks. 

“Can I stay here tonight?” 

Her voice was soft, like she actually thought he was going to say no. 

“Just so, you know, you won’t have to install secret cameras in my apartment to make sure I’m sleeping.” 

He ignored the dig, knowing she was just nervous about asking him. They’d been doing this, whatever this was, with each other for so long, Toby would think it shouldn’t feel awkward anymore. But that wasn’t how it worked, and he knew it. And she wasn’t propositioning him, or asking him for anything- she was exhausted.

Toby nodded quickly- “Go get some clothes. You know where everything is, right?” 

She didn't bother to answer, already halfway to the bathroom. 

He changed quickly before grabbing a few pillows and sheets, and heading to the couch. A few minutes later, CJ waltzed out of the bathroom in a towel, not noticing- or caring- about his reaction. 

“Why are you making up the couch there, honey?” 

He ignored the nickname and responded, pointedly looking away from her body. 

“I’m going to sleep here. And didn't I say you could grab some clothes?” 

She smiled teasingly. “Can’t restrain yourself?” 

“Claudia Jean, we both know I’ve seen you in outfits less conducive to restraint,” he scoffed.

She swatted at him, walking away- presumably to steal some of his clothes. She came back in a Berkeley shirt and his boxer shorts, hair up in a knot. He felt himself staring, but couldn’t seem to look away. She raised her eyebrows at his reaction. 

“That’s not mine,” he noted. “You keep old college shirts in my closet?”

CJ nodded amusedly, like she was waiting for him to say something she didn’t already know. 

Toby wondered if she enjoyed driving him crazy. The answer was probably yes, but he didn’t dare ask- he was too worried he would grab her mid-sentence and kiss the life out of her. 

He cleared his throat. “Good night.” 

He walked over and gave her a kiss on the cheek, too intimate to be casual but too chaste to be anything like what he wanted to do. As he was turning to leave, she grabbed his arm. 

“Jeez, CJ, what?” 

“Where are you going?” she asked simply. 

“Release your death grip on my arm, then I’ll tell you!” 

She let go abruptly, a sheepish smile on her face. 

“Sorry. Old habits,” she trailed off. 

Toby shook his arm out. “I feel bad for your brothers,” he muttered. 

She cocked an eyebrow at him, reminding him wordlessly of the original question. 

He gestured lamely to the couch. “I told you, I’m sleeping on the couch.”

CJ sighed deeply, a “why do I put up with this man” kind of sigh that Toby knew well.

“You idiot, why would I sleep in your bed?” 

He blinked at her. “I mean, you’ve slept in it before. I figured you wouldn’t want the couch-” 

He was cut off as she grabbed his arm again, dragged him to the bedroom. She ignored his cries of pain- which, to be fair, were fake. For the most part.

Toby shifted awkwardly, pretending to think over the decision. 

“CJ, I don't know if I feel comfortable being in bed with my boss- hey!” 

Toby ducked to avoid the pillow hurtling towards him. 

“Come here,” CJ groaned. “I’m sleeping in a bed for the first time this week, don't ruin this for me.” 

“This week? CJ!” 

His protests were muffled by her lips on his, kissing him deeply. CJ knotted her fingers in his ratty t-shirt, pulling him closer. She savored the short kiss, the first one they’d shared in a while. God, she’d missed having him this close to her. She leaned back with a satisfied expression on her face. 

“Good night,” she said firmly. 

“Good night,” Toby replied, still dazed. 

He’d known this woman for as long as he could remember, but somehow she still managed to amaze him. He snuck a look at her- sprawled next to him, her legs intertwined with his. She would steal all the blankets and take up half the bed, just like always, but he didn’t care. Toby took a deep breath, trying to commit this moment to memory. He didn't get these moments of peace often- neither of them did. He’d make this one last as long as he could.

this was SO FUN!! sorry it took so long! it was supposed to be some short fluff and i ended up with this, lol. thank you so much for the prompt- i hope you like it! i love doing these, so send me more anytime- i reblog prompt lists WAY too much. these two are the best agh i love writing for them<33333

[440mxs-wife]

The Other Guys

Pairing: Dean x Reader

You spent the weekend at Jody's catching up with Donna, Charlie, Jody and Eileen on a "Girls Only Weekend" in Sioux Falls. Facials and manicures were done, and the girls helped you put some golden highlights in your light chestnut hair. "I'm telling ya, girlie, if this doesn't turn Dean's head, nothing will," Donna remarked.

"Oh come on, Donna, let's get real, shall we? I'd have to change a hell of a lot more than my hair for Dean to notice me," you stated. "Besides, he's so wrapped up in the current crisis with Chuck, I doubt he sees anything but that. Let alone realize if something about me had changed," you replied softly. "But, enough about that, anyone hungry?" you said, desperate to change the subject.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  

Your friends knew about your crush on the elder Winchester, and you think even Sam and possibly Castiel suspected something. Only the object of your affection seemed oblivious to this fact, and that's probably how it was meant to be. At least that what you told yourself to spare your heart the hurt every time he brought home a girl from the bar.

Each time you saw a girl leaving Dean's room in the morning, you pushed your feelings for him down a little farther. Then you grabbed your earbuds and headed to the bunker's gym for a morning workout. Sam was usually in there as well, doing some strength training after his run. Your workout mainly consisted of taking your frustrations out on the punching bag until you could punch and kick no more. Then you showered, got dressed and went about the business of saving people and hunting things.

Then it happened one morning, about a week before your "Girls Only Weekend". You exited your room at the same time as a busty blonde was leaving Dean's room. She had pulled him in for one last kiss and as she left up the stairs, Dean turned to you, winked then closed his door. That was the last straw. When Sam walked in, you were in the middle of one of your most intense workouts in quite some time. A fact which did not escape Sam's notice.

"Now, who or what are you fighting by taking it out on that poor punching bag?" he chuckled. You continued with your routine and ignored Sam's comment. "Whoa, you must really be pissed if you won't even talk to me," Sam observed.

"Stupid"--(punch)--"smug"--(punch/kick/punch)--"idiot"--(punch/punch/kick/punch)--"MALE"--(punch/punch/kick/kick/punch)--"YOUR BROTHER!" you yelled. You then sent a flurry of punches and kicks to the bag before finally dropping to your knees in exhaustion. Sam came over to sit beside you and rubbed your back to calm you down. "So, what did Dean do this time?" he asked.

You paused to collect your thoughts and to catch your breath. "I saw her. The chick from last night, as she was leaving his room. I'm used to seeing it, but this time? After she grabbed his shirt for one last kiss, she left. He saw me, winked and went back into his room. Then I came down here," you finished.

Sam shook his head in annoyance at how clueless Dean could be sometimes. He knew you had feelings for his older brother, but that you hadn't confessed them yet.

A heartbroken sob escaped your throat, followed by silent tears of frustration. "Why doesn't he want me, Sam?" you asked quietly. "On second thought, never mind. I shouldn't ask questions to which I don't want to know the answer," you remarked. Before Sam could respond, you jumped to your feet and ran out of the gym to shower and get ready for the day, just like you usually did.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You returned home from Sioux Falls in time to see Sam and Dean in preparation for leaving on a mission. When you reached the library, Sam noticed you had returned. "Oh, hey! Nice to see you back. Did you have a good time?" he asked.

"Yep, it was good to get away from here for a while, but it's also nice to be home. You guys headed out?" you inquired.

"We got a lead on something that may help us in the fight against Chuck, so we're going to check it out," Sam answered.

"Hang on, I'll go swap out my dirty clothes for some clean ones so that I can go with you guys," you replied.

Dean entered the library and heard you ask for them to wait for you. "Nope, we're almost ready to go, we can't wait for you. Besides, we need you to stay behind and entertain our 'guests'," he explained.

"What are you talking about, 'guests', and since when did I get demoted to the hostess around here?" you retorted. "I am a hunter, Dean, and I don't think it's fair I should be left behind," you finished.

"Listen, Princess, you just spent the weekend sitting around with the girls. Gossiping and doing whatever else you girls do when you get together. Meanwhile, Sam and I have been trying to figure out a way to, oh I don't know, SAVE THE FREAKIN' WORLD FROM CHUCK," Dean thundered.

You looked at him in shock, because you couldn't believe he was saying. He practically escorted you to the car so you'd go on this weekend to Jody's, saying you needed some time off. Now he's going to throw that back in your face and use it against you? "You're an ass," you spat out. You grabbed your bag, threw it in your room then slammed your door.

"Dude, what the hell? You told her to go to Jody's, almost had to push her out the door. She was going to stay home instead and research to help with the Chuck situation. Now you use it against her?" Sam snapped.

Dean gave his brother a hard look. "Let's go, Sam. We're burning daylight," he retorted.

"Be right there, Dean," Sam said as he walked down the hall to your door. He knocked but didn't hear an answer, so he tried the knob but it was locked.

"Go away, whoever is at my door. I don't want to talk to anyone right now," you yelled.

"It's me, Sam. I wanted to say goodbye before heading out," he said.

You unlocked the door and opened it enough to see that it indeed was Sam standing at your door. "Goodbye, Sam," you said then tried to close the door again, but he wouldn't let you.

"About these guests, they're our counterparts from another Earth. Chuck destroyed their world, but they got out before getting killed. We won't be gone long, we just need to keep them out of trouble and off of Chuck's radar until we get back," Sam explained. "Hey, did you do something to your hair at Jody's this weekend? Looks nice," he commented.

You smoothed your hand over your hair. "Thanks. Yeah, someone--Donna, I think--convinced me I should put some golden highlights in my hair to catch Dean's attention. I'll have to call and tell her it didn't work," you muttered.

"Hey, I'm sorry that he acted that way to you, it was uncalled for," he remarked.

"Thank you, but you don't need to apologize for your brother. He should do that himself, but I'm not going to hold my breath. I've decided that I'm done trying to get him to notice anything about me. Whether I change my appearance, or how I'm feeling, if I'm happy or upset or whatever. I know he'll never see me as more than a friend anyway. Doesn't matter, though, because he'll always hold my heart," you broke off. "You'd better get going. Dean's waiting, and you know how he doesn't like to wait," you reminded Sam, smiling through your tears.

You pushed Sam away from the door, then he took your hand and pulled you out of your room and into a hug. "Take care. We'll be back soon," he said. As you broke apart, you patted Sam's shoulder and sent him on his way.

Little did either of you know, Dean overheard your entire conversation. He had gone back to his room for his phone charger and listened in as you poured your heart out to Sam. He didn't realize you felt this way about him, and started to ask himself about his own feelings.

Dean thought about the times he brought a girl home from the bar, and remembered following you one of those mornings after. He saw you in the gym in your workout gear with your earbuds in, punching and kicking the hell out of the bag. The way you were attacking it made him wonder which of whose body parts you were intent on destroying that day. If his being with other women bothered you, he wondered why you never told him.

When he got back to the garage, he noticed Sam was already in the passenger seat, ready to go. "Dean, I thought you were in the car, waiting on me, what happened?" Sam asked.

"Went back to my room for my phone charger," Dean muttered as the Impala's engine roared to life. Sam shrugged and settled in for the road trip.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You put your earbuds in, unpacked your bag and took a load of laundry to be washed. You looked at your watch and noticed it was late afternoon. You hadn't eaten anything since breakfast at Jody's, so you wandered into the kitchen for a snack. As you passed through the War Room, you saw two men who certainly looked like Sam and Dean. These must be the "guests" that I'm supposed to keep off of Chuck's radar, you muttered to yourself.

Both men were wearing flannel, blue jeans and boots. They both looked a little uncomfortable about it, but Alt!Sam looked the least comfortable of the two.

"I can't believe they suggested that I do anything remotely as drastic as cutting my hair," Alt!Sam muttered.

You chuckled softly, which alerted them to your presence, so you introduced yourself. Alt!Sam nodded in your direction and raised his teacup in salute.

On the other hand, Alt!Dean looked like he'd seen a ghost. He had his feet propped up on the table, and the laptop resting on his thighs. He followed you with his eyes as you made your way out of the War Room. Alt!Dean scrambled out of his chair, nearly dropping the laptop on the floor, and rushed to get a better look at you.

Your search of the fridge turned up empty, and the pantry's offerings were slim at best. You found some peanut butter and took out two slices of bread from the wrapper. As you moved throughout the kitchen, you were half-humming/half-singing the tune in your ears. Your hips swayed in time with the music as you spread the peanut butter on the bread. You didn't realize that Alt!Dean was watching your every move until you looked up. It caused you to drop the knife with a clatter.

Clutching your hand to your chest to slow your hammering heartbeat, you pulled the earbuds out of your ears. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Alt!Dean said gently, holding up his hands in surrender.

"That's all right, I was catching a quick snack. I didn't realize it had been so long since I'd last eaten something," you smiled. "Is there something I can help you with? I can make you a sandwich too, if you want, or did you need something else?" You realized you were rambling a bit.

"Oh, no, I don't want to trouble you," Alt!Dean quickly answered.

The silence between you was broken by the sound of a growling stomach, and it wasn't yours. You looked at each other and grinned. "Here, please have this. I'll make myself another," you said as you pushed your plate towards Alt!Dean.

As you prepared another sandwich, Alt!Dean dug into the one you gave him. After the first bite, though, he paused and looked at you. "You are so much like her, you know. Your eyes, hair, voice. Your kindness, generosity, your gentle, caring nature. The way you sing in the kitchen," he chuckled. "My brother and I are nothing like our counterparts from this universe. But you....the resemblance is remarkable," he commented.

"She was your girlfriend?" you asked cautiously as you continued to make your sandwich.

"My wife. We'd been married for five years when I lost her in a hunting accident. Vampire," he explained. "It's been three years since I last saw her smile, heard her voice or her laughter. Since I held her hand," Alt!Dean whispered. He reached for your hand, but you withdrew it out of nervousness. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable," he said quickly.

You stopped in your tracks and turned to face him. "I'm the one who should apologize. I can't imagine what it's like to lose someone you love the way you obviously loved her. It's just....my relationship with the Dean from this world is complicated at best. He definitely doesn't see me in that way. He mainly sees me as a friend, if he even sees me at all," you murmured, dropping your gaze to the floor.

Alt!Dean walked over and stood directly in front of you. He hooked his index finger under your chin and tilted it up to see tears streaming from your eyes. He gently wiped them away with his thumbs as he cupped your cheek. "If I had you, I'd never let you go. I would make sure you knew each and every day how much you were loved and cherished," he replied.

He inched forward until your lips were almost touching. At the last second, you dropped your gaze again. "I....can't. As often as I've imagined this, and as much as I may want this, I would want it with 'my' Dean. The one from this universe," you added with a small smile.

Alt!Dean returned your smile. "I understand. Thank you for being honest with me. Something else you have in common," he winked and tapped the end of your nose.

"I have an idea, and it'll take care of two things at once. Let's go into town and get some groceries. I was only gone over the weekend, but my boys managed to run this place out of food. Come on!" you urged, taking Alt!Dean's hand and going back to the War Room where you'd left Alt!Sam. At first, Alt!Sam rolled his eyes, as if grocery shopping was beneath him, but when you promised to make Fettuccine Alfredo, he changed his tune.

Soon, the three of you were in your 1968 Chevy Nova, rambling down the highway into town. You recently installed a new stereo with a CD player in your car. You knew that Dean hated it, because it wasn't keeping in line with such a classic car. However, it was your car, and since the driver picks the music, you had a CD player.

Alt!Sam was sitting in the shotgun seat, so you asked him to pull out your collection of CDs. "Now, normally, the person sitting shotgun doesn't get to decide what music we listen to. Since you're the guest, I'll let you choose," you said to Alt!Sam.

He unzipped the case and flipped through your choices. "Seems to be a lot of classic rock in here," Alt!Sam grumbled. "Like someone else I know," giving his brother in the back seat a sly grin.

"Samuel, face it. She obviously has good taste in music," Alt!Dean chuckled.

Alt!Sam chuckled as he continued to look through your CDs. Suddenly his eyes lit up and he gasped in surprise. He slid the CD out of its pocket and placed it in the slot. A satisfied smirk played on his lips as he folded his arms across his chest, waiting for the first song to play.

Yo, I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want So tell me what you want, what you really, really want I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want So tell me what you want, what you really, really want I wanna, (ha) I wanna, (ha) I wanna, (ha) I wanna, (ha) I wanna really, really, really wanna zigazig ah

You couldn't stop the smile that broke out over your face as you started to sing along with the lyrics. As the car rolled down the road towards town, even Alt!Dean found at least one song to jam out to on the CD.

At the store, you picked up enough provisions to make spaghetti, Fettuccine Alfredo, chili and meat loaf. You also made sure to get a bag of apples to make a pie at a later date.

Back at the bunker, the boys helped you bring in the groceries. While they put things away, you got started on dinner by boiling the water for the pasta. You pulled out your special Alfredo sauce recipe and got to work on it while waiting for the water to boil.

Less than an hour later, dinner was served, and the boys were impressed with your culinary skills. While you ate, you shared stories and told jokes. It had been a while since you'd been able to relax like this, to not be consumed with preventing the end of the world. All of it came to an abrupt end when you heard the massive bunker door open and close. Heavy boots coming down the stairs signaled the return of the Winchesters from your world, along with Castiel and Jack.

Dean was the first to enter the dining room and witness your makeshift dinner party. "What the hell is all of this? I asked you to keep a low profile, not throw a party," he grumbled.

You stood up from your chair. "This is not a party, Dean. This is dinner. Somehow, over the weekend, you, Sam and Jack managed to nearly empty the pantry and the fridge," you started. "We went into town, got some supplies and I made dinner. Simple as that," you replied.

"Do you know how dangerous that was, for them to leave the bunker? This place is warded for a reason, to provide protection! Their world was already destroyed, and they barely got out with their lives. What, did you want Chuck to find them and finish the job?" Dean thundered.

You turned to Alt!Sam and Alt!Dean. "Gentlemen, it's been an honor to get to know you. I enjoyed the time we spent together, and I know I'll never forget you. I hope that you find happiness wherever you may go," you remarked softly. You gave each of them a peck on the cheek and turned to leave the dining room.

"Hold on there, I'm not finished talking with you," Dean said as he grabbed your arm.

You looked Dean straight in his eyes. "You may not be done talking with me, but for the foreseeable future, I'm done talking with you. Let go of my arm," you glared.

Something in your tone must have broken through because Dean released your arm. You entered your room and everyone jumped at the sound of your slamming door.

Sam and Dean walked their counterparts to the spiral staircase and handed them a set of keys. Dean told them which car the keys went with and bid them farewell.

Alt!Dean turned to face the scruffier hunter. "I know you and I don't have much in common. We're pretty much opposites of each other. But she is so much like my wife was, in every way. At first, it was difficult being around her, knowing it wasn't really my wife. Spending time with her, though, made me miss my wife just a little bit less. I lost her in a hunting accident, and there's nothing I wouldn't give to spend even one more second with her.

"Your girl is right here, right now. Don't lose her on purpose by taking her for granted," Alt!Dean finished before he followed his brother up the stairs.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dean poured himself a glass of whiskey and propped his feet up on the table in the library. He thought about what Alt!Dean said, about you helping him a bit to get over the loss of his wife. You'd only met them that day. Yet, you helped him to get through a little of the unimaginable pain of losing a love partner. Even Alt!Sam seemed to have loosened up a bit since Dean had first met him, although he didn't get rid of the man-bun.

He thought back to when Jody asked you to visit her for the weekend. At first, you told him and Sam that given the current state of the world, you weren't going to go. You had wanted to stay behind and research the whole time instead of taking time for something fun. You were going to put the job ahead of yourself, like Dean had seen you do so many other times before. How often had you sacrificed your own needs or happiness for that of others? Dean wondered.

Dean recalled the times when Jack wanted to play a game with you or watch cartoons, or take a walk in the woods. Even if you were in the middle of a good book, you dropped it and paid attention to Jack. When Sam needed help with research, you made the time to help him, putting off whatever you were already doing. Or, when he grumbled that someone forgot the pie, you hopped into the kitchen and made one for him.

Then there were the other, more subtle ways you showed how much you cared for your boys. Buying someone his favorite cereal, or making a pie out of the blue. Making sure coffee was ready the moment one of them entered the kitchen. On a cold day, hanging a warm towel fresh from the dryer right outside the shower. Cooking their favorite meals on their birthdays. The list went on and on.

He tilted the crystal tumbler to invite the last of the amber liquid to slide down his throat. As he prepared to pour another, Dean saw you shuffle through the library. You didn't seem to notice his presence, or probably more accurately, you refused to acknowledge it. He saw you briefly wipe your eyes and heard you sniffle from crying.

Dean could hear you in the dining room, gathering the dishes to wash up from the evening meal. Such skilled hands both in and out of the kitchen. He wondered how it would feel to have them slide up his bare chest or for your fingers to comb through his hair. Earlier, when you were telling him off, he couldn't help but notice how your hazel eyes were ablaze with passion. And he longed to capture your lips with his to see if they were as soft and magical as he hoped they were.

It had been a long day, so Dean decided to call it a night. He figured that you would finish the dishes shortly, then you would return to your room for more sleep. He hoped you would be in his nightly dreams, since you were starting to occupy his thoughts during daylight hours.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next morning, Sam came back from his morning run to find a pot of coffee had recently been brewed. A towering pile of bacon sat waiting on a platter, and a steaming stack of pancakes were ready to be eaten. The pièce de resistance was a fresh apple pie sitting on the counter.

Dean wandered in to the kitchen nearly half-asleep, wearing his grey robe. As soon as he saw the feast gracing the kitchen counter, he snapped to full consciousness. Coffee, pancakes, bacon and pie. "Oh, man....she didn't. That sweet lovin' woman," he said softly, shaking his head.

"I think we both know who made the pie, but when would she have done it?" Sam wondered.

"Had to have been after she did the dishes last night," Dean replied. He explained last night's events to Sam, how he saw you but you didn't see him. That you must have been crying just before you came out, because you sniffled and were wiping your eyes.

"So, she stayed up late, doing dishes and making pie? Then she got up early and made breakfast?" Sam observed.

"Yeah. Have you seen her yet this morning?" Dean asked.

Jack and Castiel entered the kitchen for breakfast. "I saw her," Jack answered. "She was on her way to the shower. Her eyes were all red and puffy, though," he said, confused. "Is she okay?"

As if on cue, you joined the group gathering in the kitchen. Without a word or glance to anyone, you reached into the cupboard for your favorite cup. You poured yourself some coffee and fixed it the way you liked it. When you looked up, four pairs of eyes were on you. No one knew quite what to expect, given yesterday's events. You gave everyone a quick smile and walked back to your room.

Castiel was the first to speak. "No, Jack. She is not okay. She is upset at everything that happened yesterday after she returned from her weekend at Jody's. She is thinking about how to apologize to Dean and us for putting Alt!Sam and Alt!Dean in danger by taking them to town. The pie is meant to be a peace offering, and she hopes we enjoy the breakfast," Cas finished.

"Well, she didn't have to make breakfast, and I don't believe she has anything to apologize for, either," Sam remarked.

Jack looked at Cas. "How can we make her feel better?" he asked. "She's always so caring and does so much for everyone. I wish she didn't feel sad," Jack replied.

No one saw Dean as he slipped out of the kitchen and walked towards your room. He hesitated before knocking, and put his ear to the door. When he didn't hear anything, he knocked gently and waited for your response.

"Who is it?" you asked.

Dean cleared his throat. "Um, it's me, Dean," he answered.

"Go away, Dean. I already told you, I won't be speaking to you for the foreseeable future," you retorted.

"I know you said that, but will you please just listen? I promise I won't yell at you," he implored.

A minute passed, but it seemed like an eternity to Dean before he heard the door being unlocked. You opened it a crack then stepped out of the way so Dean could enter. You went back to sitting on your bed, with your back resting against your headboard. "So talk," you said, looking down at your hands in your lap.

"Mind if I sit here?" he pointed to the end of your bed. You gestured with your hand to give permission, so he sat on the edge.

"What's on your mind, Dean?" you sighed.

"I wanted to thank you for making breakfast for all of us. And for making the pie. When did you do that?" Dean asked.

"Late last night. I couldn't sleep, so I came out to clean up after dinner. Still wasn't tired, so as quietly as I could, I made the pie," you explained.

"Why couldn't you sleep?" he asked.

"If you must know, I was upset. It hasn't been exactly too friendly around here between you and me lately. First, it's like you're saying that me taking a break left you and Sam to do all the work concerning the Chuck situation. Next, you get upset that I entertained the alternate Sam and Dean by taking them into town to get food. It's like I can't do anything right in your eyes. And sometimes I think--never mind," you broke off.

Dean knew what you were going to say next, but he wanted to hear it from you anyway. "What? What were you going to say?" he asked.

"Never mind, Dean. Just drop it," you warned.

"Hey, you started it, you can't just not tell me now after you say something like that," he replied.

You lifted up your head and stared straight into those emerald eyes of his. "Fine. But be careful what you wish for. You see me as just a friend, if you see me at all," you started. "Let me tell you what I see of you. I see a man who fights tooth and nail for what he believes in. A man who is fiercely loyal to those he loves and would die to protect them. A man who is afraid to get too close to a woman because he thinks it's dangerous. I see a man who is intelligent, kind, witty, and sexy as hell. And I love him," you declared softly.

"Wow," was all he said.

"Yeah," you gave a short laugh. "Bet you're real glad you asked, huh? Well, now that you know, you're free to leave if you want to," you replied. You got up from the bed and walked over to your dresser to put away your recently laundered clothes. You heard Dean get up from the bed as well. You wanted to wait and hear the sound of the door opening and closing behind him before you completely broke down.

But the sound never came. Instead, you felt two strong arms wrap around you from behind and give you a gentle squeeze. Dean rested his chin on your shoulder, his breath hot against your ear. You closed your eyes and melted into his embrace, enjoying the moment because you had no idea how long it would last.

"Now what kind of man would I be if I left after hearing such a heartfelt confession of love, hmm?" he asked. "Especially before I've had a chance to tell my side of the story," he started.

Then Dean turned you around in his arms so he could gaze into the honey-and-green of your eyes. "I'll tell you what I see of you. I see a woman who often sacrifices her own needs or happiness for that of others. A woman who has been knocked down so much by life, but she gets back up every time and keeps fighting. A woman that makes an indelible mark on every life she touches, leaving behind a small piece of herself in that person's heart. I see a woman who is strong, caring, smart and beautiful, both in body and in her soul. And I love her," he finished.

Dean's left hand came up and he brushed your face with the back of his fingers. He slowly closed the gap between you as he pressed his lips to yours in a tender kiss. Dean pulled back a little to gaze into your hazel eyes before diving back in for another, deeper kiss.

When you finally broke apart, you both were trying to catch your breath with your foreheads touching. You grinned at each other, holding hands with interlaced fingers.

"By the way, I like what you did to your hair," Dean remarked.

"I'm glad you like it," you replied.

[sunnygang]

analysing the sep 24 wigfrid animated short (don’t starve)

I am rewatching some Don’t Starve animations and catching up on some i hadn’t seen yet. I am watching the Wigfrid animation tonight for the first time (the sep 24 one). I am a few months late, whoops!

I will be putting this analysis under a cut, since I will be pairing a lot of screen caps from the short itself! Also this turned out WAY longer than I originally intended it to. There’s a tw for incest mention in one paragraph (about a stage play that is relevant, NOT about Wigfrid) and I put the warning surrounded in asterisks and bolded before the paragraph referenced!

The short opens with a shot from what is safe to assume is her front hallway. Wigfrid is an actress and she appears to live alone in a nice home.

The walls are of course covered in her various photographs and stage play memoriam. Over the mantle on the left the framed poster reads  Die Walküre (The Valkyrie). Keep this in mind as this is Wigfrid’s best role. Also peep that nice chaise lounge she’s sitting on!

Some national culture, we get to see the newspaper she is reading. This paper is The Kronicle. The real life Chronicle newspaper, upon searching it, returned a good number of results. I am going to say that this particular article is the Ohio Chronicle (founded by the Lorain Printing and Publishing Co which was founded in 1829, the paper itself may or may not have been founded that same year), and I will get into why later.

The front page features the Tragedy in San Francisco. The tragedy of Maxwell and Charlie! The article header specifically reading “Tragedy in San Francisco! Many Still Missing After Devastating Earthquake!” This is around the same date, it has to be within a matter of days for this short to take place from the date of the Charlie and Maxwell disappearance in San Francisco. We don’t get to see Wigfrid reading this article, however. This is merely set there for the viewer’s sake. This is helping form our timeline of when these events all occurred. Many still missing. That means the search continues. This article could have been published a few days after the mentioned earthquake or a week even. Still, it gives us somewhat of a timeline to reference. The earthquake and the events of this Wigfrid short happened in relatively short time from one another.

This newspaper article header reads “Is It Curtains for This Prima Donna? Former Rising Star Seems Unable to Recapture The Magic of Her Precious Role”

Wigfrid isn’t shown reading the front article because she is focused on the news centered around herself. She’s called a prima donna here in this headline. Being called a Prima Donna can mean a number of things. It can mean a principle female singer in an opera or concert organization OR someone who is vain/undisciplined and finds it difficult to work as a team. She doesn’t have any quotes in DST that would indicate Wigfrid doesn’t work well with others. She mostly greets the other players warmly and hopes for good blessings from Yggdrasil, etc.

I think the journalists who wrote the article were looking to have this kind of double idea happening. The term Prima Donna comes directly from Italian for the types of female leads to the definitive aspect of the term. However around the same time (19th cent) it came to mean the second definition as well. Those writing the article likely wrote it with both aspects in mind. This gives Wigfrid her personal reason for wanting to ask Maxwell for help in some way. This is her drive. She is obviously a talented lead opera lady given the decorations and extravagant nature of her home. But this article says she is unable to recapture the magic of her previous role. The role in question looks to be very different from the Wigfrid Valkyrie we know. Her best role may be her Valkyrie role and maybe when she’s trying to branch into something else it isn’t working. And the critics and journalists think it isn’t good for her. She was a powerful Valkyrie, but not whatever this role happened to be.

We get to see her finishing reading the article (or maybe this short interrupts her just barely skimming it) and angrily crumple and toss the paper to the floor. She turns her nose up at it and dramatically walks to a bookshelf in the room and pulls out this record:

Die Walküre. This is the recorded orchestral arrangement for the stage play Die Walküre. In the bottom right of the record sleeve is the names of who I believe to be the composers for the recorded version of the orchestral arrangement. Vincenzo De Vera and Emmental Halle. Wigfrid’’s. Best. Role. The role with such “magic” that she has been since “unable to recapture.”

**incest mention in this next paragraph in the contexts of norse mythology and the real life stage play of The Valkyrie, not Wigfrid herself**

Interestingly enough, Die Walküre is a very real stage play. It is based on Norse Mythology about two twins who are separated in childhood and then eventually meet and fall in love (yikes!). This union angers the gods and they demand Siegmund die. Sieglinde and their unborn child are saved by the defiant actions of Wotan’s daughter, The Valkyrie. Valkyrie Brunnehilde faces the god’s retribution as a result of her actions.

More Valkyrie content hidden away in her shelves. She adored her role as The Valkyrie. Her house is, as we have seen, filled with memoriam from that stage play.

She plays the record and walks over to her wall and looks at her poster of herself as the Valkyrie. The newspaper clipping on the left reads “Audiences Left Spellbound by Soprano’s Powerful Performance.” Wigfrid is a GREAT performer and she is a soprano! She even has a little statue/sculpture of herself as The Valkyrie.

Here’s where I am going to go a little more into the Prima Donna bit. Wigfrid was the lead female for Die Walküre so she is a Prima Donna in that sense. however, she is also vain. She has surrounded herself with HERSELF. All over the walls in her home. Posters and pictures and photographs and SCULPTURES? You Prima Donna girl you, Wigfrid!

Her ceiling is even intricately decorated with scenes from Die Walküre.

And then we get here. We enter Wigfrid’s fantasy about performing as The Valkyrie who has to face a challenge. This challenge being a dragon that forms from this stack of newspaper pages. More entertainment pages that discuss Wigfrid’s stardom reaching an end.

Wigfrid’s real name is scratched out. So we know for certain that Wigfrid is NOT her real name. We can still call her real name whatever we please until we get more solid evidence surrounding her name. Wigfrid is probably Die Valküre’s name in the stage play that Wigfrid acted in. In The Constant it’s safe to assume that the character she takes on in the world happens to be this character, Wigfrid. At this point it raises some question as to whether or not Wigfrid is treating The Constant like a stage. Where she gets to really perform the role of The Valkyrie.

Back to the newspaper taking the form of a dragon, though. The papers are her enemy. The journalists writing about her in such awful ways literally conjure up as her enemy, a dragon, to vanquish. This reveals how she feels about the way others speak about her. Especially when they are critiquing her so harshly with claiming she is a fading star unable to capture her magic.

Wigfrid is thrust into the air by the dragon and she seems lost for a moment before she regains her composure and strikes down the dragon. These are the feelings she is expressing through her singing accompaniment with the arrangement playing on her record player. And Maxwell notices this.

Maxwell appears before Wigfrid through the newspaper. This intrigues me because we know that Them (the Shadow Creatures of the Constant) are capable of reaching into the real world from pages. Thinking back to Maxwell’s Codex Umbra where he first discovered Them and became Maxwell instead of William. Maxwell (or probably rather, They) reaches through these pages to communicate with Wigfrid and have her make a deal. The deal to regain her former glory.

Whisked away with this Shadow Maxwell form by the Shadows from the pages. And with that Wigfrid joins the missing group, taken to The Constant.

And then theres these shots in succession:

All that mail piled up. How long has it been since Wigfrid has disappeared. I think we can assume that some of the mail in her box might be fan mail. SHe has packages on her front step (in front of double doors for her entrance wowie!). I spy at least three packages there piled up with all the assorted mail she otherwise has accumulated while missing. I also spy at least four newspapers. It’s hard to say whether these newspapers are Morning Dailies, Afternoon Dailies, or Weeklies. And then we get the final, fifth newspaper copy tossed on top of the stack that labels Wigfrid as someone who is also now missing. This is an important newspaper because this paper is a DAILY newspaper.

The Kourier paper is likely a mirror to the IRL newspaper in Findlay, Ohio. This paper puts out a copy DAILY. I am going to assume that the first newspaper we see Wigfrid read is a weekly newspaper. It covers more national events such as the San Francisco tragedy. This final newspaper is a daily newspaper. This helps the timeline. Wigfrid has likely been missing for only five days at this point. At most it could have been a week, pushing it to of course seven days. Maybe one of the other papers in the could be another Kronicle copy, which I am deeming the weekly style paper. In my hunt for information about the IRL version of this paper in our real Ohio, I struggled to find specifics online whether this paper published weekly or daily. I do know for certain that tthe IRL Courier is put into circulation daily.

OKAY! Next I want to discuss the colors used in this short. Ignoring the fully colored bit in the center while Wigfrid fantasizes about performing for a moment.

In the beginning of the short we have warm colors. These colors can both reflect Wigfrid’s mood and also the time of day. Wigfrid is angry about the way she is being talked about in the newspaper articles. She is silhouetted by orange-red. It could also be the evening. Adding a little to what I stated just a bove about the newspapers, I think The Kronicle is a paper that is delivered in the afternoon. I personally deem this accurate because in this scene Wigfrid of course is just now reading this article (or rather just barely skimming it over for the first time). Judging by her reaction which I’ve detailed above. She isn’t reading it over again and having an already bummed reaction, One of her eyebrows is raised while she looks over the article before throwing it down. Thus, it was her first moment seeing the article along with us.

We see her anger melting into a kind of sadness, or forlorn feelings even when she first puts on her record. She is still angry of course, but she’s feeling a lot of emotions, as we do, at this point in time.

At the end of the short we have cold colors. At this point, Wigfrid has gone through her fantasy of performing The Valkyrie. She is feeling solemn about it all now though. What if the papers are true? What if I am losing my magic for my roles? I think it’s also into the night or even possibly into the morning. It’s either the shine of the moon coming in from the windows, or early morning blue hours peeking in. I don’t want to say that she spent the whole night fantasizing and performing for herself (The Valkyrie is not an 8 hour performance). BUT. When we get to see the scene where the last newspaper is delivered to her doorstep, it is again in the blue lighting. The Kourier newspaper delivered onto her stack of mail. The Kourier is a morning delivery vs The Kronicle being an afternoon delivery.

ALSO. Remember my post about Winona? WELL she was ALSO located in Ohio pre being dragged into The Constant. So far we have two characters safely concretely placed IN Ohio at the time of their disappearance. Obviously, The Shadow Creatures do not discriminate since Wes was likely trapped way back during the train derailment with William, and of course Charlie and Maxwell/William himself were taken from San Francisco.

Okay. That’s all I have time for this time around of over analyzing don’t starve content. I am glad I got into the imagery and symbolism this time around. I also went WAY in depth in this one. I plan on going in way depth on the other animated character shorts, so stay tuned!

[nastassia1031]

Damn.

Let me start off by saying, there’s nothing that could have happened in this ending that could change my love for this show. I think people that say shows are utterly ruined by unsatisfying endings are people who don’t have fandom to fix things. I’m a Game of Thrones fan. I’m a Magicians fan. The ending? That’s a starting point, my dudes. Fandom can fix anything.

First off, I loved the retrospective. For a hot second, I thought about watching that after the finale, but I wanted to watch it the way it was meant to be watched, and I’m glad I made that decision.

Seeing the callbacks to the classic meta episodes and the characters we loved and lost along the way was a comfort. I wish we’d gotten a Crowley cameo in the final season, but seeing a tribute to Crowley and Mark Sheppard in this episode was awesome.

Then the finale.

This isn’t the ending I wanted for the boys. I’ve shipped Destiel since he strolled into Dean’s life in season four and sparks LITERALLY flew, and I was a clown to the last because I really REALLY thought Dabb and the showrunners were going to give it to us. 

I didn’t want this end for Dean. Sure, he was happy in heaven, but I feel like this ending served to undo fifteen years of character development.

Dean spent his entire life full of self-loathing because his father forced him to structure his entire identity around being a hunter since he was a child. Dean feels worthless outside the hunt. He’s “daddy’s blunt instrument.” He’s a weapon. He’s a broken thing that can’t be saved or loved or forgiven. But in 15x18 we finally FINALLY had Cas, a character who has seen into Dean’s soul LITERALLY, who saw every bit of trauma and self-hatred in him who looked him in the eye and said, “that’s not who you are. You’re worthy of love. And I love you.” 

And then the Empty took Cas.

And then Dean died. On one of John’s unfinished hunts. 

It ends bloody, or it ends sad.

It ended both.

Sam lived a life without his brother. We got a kid named Dean and a vague female shaped blur as the wife. I AM fully pissed that we didn’t get Eileen as Sam’s wife. Even if  Shoshannah Stern couldn’t film due to COVID it would have been very very easy to establish her as his wife with a few photographs. Bringing back a fan favorite and setting her up as Sam’s endgame only to back out at the last minute feels like a cop out.

And Dean? He got his endless road, driving Baby until Sam showed up. Switching the license plate back to the KAZ 2Y5 of the early seasons was a nice callback, but I still feel like Dean deserved more.

That illusory future that Chuck showed Sam before it all went bad - Sam and Eileen, Dean and Cas, movie nights in the bunker - that’s what I wanted for them.

It ends bloody, or it ends sad.

Nothing will change my love for this show. 

I can picture every detail of my living room in Freeport when I watched the first episode 15 years ago. I remember talking about episodes with my Mom, arguing over which brother was the superior Winchester. I was a Dean girl from day one, while she liked Sam best. I remember the last episode we watched together, 4x06 -Yellow Fever. Not a great episode, though Dean inflicted with ghost sickness had its hilarious moments.

Sam’s words to Dean in their last moments - “You can go now.” I whispered those same words to my Mom on that last day, when cancer had left her little more than a shell of who she’d once been. I’d been crying since the episode started, but when Sam said those words it turned into the type of heaving breathless sobs that I hadn’t cried in years.

I remember burying myself even deeper in fandom after she died, losing myself in the world of angels and demons, where a deal at a crossroads could bring anyone back.

Supernatural was what got me through the darkest of days. It was a friend I met in fandom who gave me something to live for. It was season four and fanfic and fanvids that kept me alive long enough for my wounds to knit themselves into some approximation of healed flesh so that I was strong enough to run away to Texas and carve a future here.

That’s the legacy that show has for me. If you didn’t meet me in high school or college (or William Arthur), you know me because of Supernatural. Full stop.

I never would have ended up in Texas if not for that fandom friend. Never would have met my husband or the amazing friends I have here. Wouldn’t have the career and the entire LIFE I’ve built. Remembering how lost and broken I was back then, I can’t say for sure I’d even be alive now if I hadn’t had the life raft of fandom to cling to.

This show. This flawed, messy, imperfect show. I am not happy with the ending. I wanted so much more for the boys. I wanted happiness that didn’t require death. I wanted Dean to have a chance to be happy with someone who really loved him.

Does it change how I feel about the show? Not in the slightest. We killed Chuck. Worse, we neutered him. The story doesn’t belong to The Powers That Be anymore. It’s ours.

Dean. Sam. Cas. Jack. Bobby. Charlie. Crowley. Rowena. Ellen. Jo. Gabriel. Jody. Donna. Claire. Kevin. Lucifer. Balthazar. Ketch. John. Mary.

They all belong to us now.

Fifteen years. 327 episodes.

I love you Supernatural.

[loveyourselfcreatively]

Supernatural Finale Rewrite

(Author’s Notes: Regarding the finale, that was a lot and there was a lot I would have done differently. Although this isn’t perfect by any means, it’s what I would have liked and most expected from the finale. Hope you all enjoy and are feeling alright!)

Dean’s eyes opened when the sound of his alarm clock stabbed through the veil of sleep he was enjoying. Mechanically, he turned it off and sat up against the headboard, taking a deep breath and stewing on the events of the day prior. For once, he didn’t feel a weight over his shoulders. He didn’t feel like he was playing to someone else’s narrative. This was his first day of free will in his entire life and he felt faintly content about that fact, smiling to himself before his attention was trained upon Miracle. He lifted her up onto the bed and wrapped his arms around the fluffy and recently groomed canine, calmly rocking with her clasped in his arms. Sam was surprised by his affection for the dog but she was important to Dean and he was happy to have her in his corner when he began life without God’s dictation.

After doing his morning routine smoothly, with Miracle by his side, he got to the kitchen, following the tell-tale smell of Sam’s breakfast. He watched his brother use the spatula to unstick the turkey bacon from the skillet, Eileen directly behind him with her arms wrapped around his waist affectionately. She stood on her toes and was able to kiss Sam’s cheek as he smiled similar to how he used to when Dean would tease him about having crushes on girls. They were lucky to have Eileen again. Dean remembered Sam’s attempts to be strong throughout their days of being alone on Earth, eyes on getting people back and having Eileen again. When everyone came back and Eileen showed up at the bunker door, Sam very nearly cried and Dean was just as happy as Sam was relieved.

Although it wasn’t explicitly stated as they drove to investigate the case in Ohio, it felt like one of the last rides. This scared Dean but he also forced himself to accept it. Sam was holding Eileen’s hand even though she was in the back seat and stared out the window at passing trees, fantasizing with a hopeful demeanor. It wasn’t dissimilar to when Sam was getting to be a teenager and looked out the window, secretly fantasizing about going to college but keeping that fact to himself given Dean and John at the time were not very supportive of that idea. Dean was ready to hear this time and with that thought in mind, he stopped looking towards him and focused back on the road, sharing a knowing glance with Eileen, who understood Sam now had his mind on bigger things, in the rearview.

After fighting the vampires and saving those boys, that air of finality was nearly impossible to shake. Dean would have died if Eileen wasn’t there to tag-team the larger vampire with him and he was grateful for her presence. Still, a close-call was a close-call and Sam and Dean realized in that moment that recklessness was a bad practice to have now that God wasn’t protecting them for the sake of a good narrative. Not long after, only weeks following actually, Sam stood in the doorway of Dean’s room following a nice dinner of his own making. He spent hours on it and stewed over it like the day was some kind of occasion, and it was. 

Dean was laying on his stomach on the bed, flicking through news stories on his tablet with Miracle curled up by his side unbothered. He glanced up from the tablet and placed it down when he saw the look on Sam’s face. He was struggling with something, brows furrowed but also tilted up with his lips pressed in a thin straight line. Dean wouldn’t prompt him, the words that would soon leave Sam’s lips were his to share. With a shuddering breath, Sam finally said what he wanted.

“Eileen and I, we uh,” he clears his throat and looks away from Dean to the corner of the room. Dean smiled knowingly to himself but remained silent, looking down at the bed spread and scratching at Miracle’s ear as he waited. “We were wanting to go on our own trip, for a while.”

Sam expected a response from Dean, eyes softened with fearful expectation, but he got nothing. The silence wasn’t bad or uncomfortable so he clarified.

“You knew I couldn’t do this so seriously forever,” he chuckles weakly, “she and I will continue of course, can’t forget hunting, but we want to try to move on. Even though she and I… you and I, will never be normal, it’s always been something I’ve wanted to try and I couldn’t comfortably do that the last few times, when you were gone. So, I think now’s the time to…” he scoffs in realization of what he was about to say, squinting his eyes and looking down, “move on I guess?” he laughs out abortively.

Dean finally nods and looks up to his brother, waiting until Sam looked him in the eyes to speak. “I think that’s a good idea, Sammy.”

Sam stood dumbfounded for a moment, not wholly surprised by Dean’s reaction but expecting more.

“It’s what you’ve always wanted and there’s no one here that has as much power to convince you otherwise but yourself.”

A weak but heartfelt smile crossed Sam’s face. “What are you going to do?”

“I’ll take up that question on the daily,” he mumbles thoughtfully, “and eventually I’ll figure it out.” Looking up at Sam, he was happy to see he accepted the answer with a nod.

Sam and Dean didn’t talk as much as either would have wanted in the months following Sam and Eileen taking their leave from the bunker. Eileen, as they were planning on passing through Kansas on a casual hunt that interrupted the domesticity they enjoyed prior, suggested they drop by briefly to see how Dean was doing. Sam was happy she suggested it as he wouldn’t have attempted to otherwise, even though he secretly wanted to. When they got there, Baby was nowhere to be seen but Sam disregarded that. He asked if Eileen wanted to join him but she insisted their reunion was to be had between one another and that she’d join him soon enough prompting Sam to enter the dark bunker. 

His brows furrowed as he turned on the lights and looked around, finding his own barren room and eventually finding Dean’s, although, it didn’t look like Deans. None of his stuff was there any longer and it seemed as though the only remnants of anyone being there in the first place was the scratching on the table in the main room and the very faint, concerning smell of smoke that permeated throughout the bunker. Not long after scoping out the place, he called Dean’s main phone, making his way out as he did so. Eileen was confused and waited for Sam to fill her in on why Dean didn’t join him but relaxed when Sam’s demeanor relaxed as well; the call was picked up.

“Hiya, Sammy, how are you and Eileen?” he said with a smile in his tone.

“Are you on a hunt?” Sam asked even though he was aware Dean’s lack of belongings at

the bunker implied more than a simple hunt.

Dean picked at his fries and ate another, waving off a waitress politely before she could ask if he was enjoying his meal. He was sitting on the outside patio of a diner with Miracle by his side. “I’m not actually.”

Bated silence was all that could be heard on Sam’s end.

“I thought about what you said, about moving on, and I thought I’d give it a try. Still hunting but I’m doing what I want, I guess,” he chuckles, coming off as genuinely happy, “that’s all we can really do, huh? So I’m giving it a try.”

“You’re not hunting anymore?”

“Woah woah woah, of course I’m still hunting, I’m just not… well… it’s whatever comes to me.” Dean thought of his words and frowned, the part of his father in him reminding him he was selfish for not spending every waking hour hunting. “Does that make me selfish, Sam?” he asked in a moment of clarity.

Eileen watched Sam intently, garnering an understanding from their interactions based on Sam’s facial expressions and words. His eyes were wide but sparkly in happiness, mouth opened and twitching as though he wanted to say something. His brows raised up suddenly and she instantly recognized a powerful “no” leaving his lips. He was happy despite his admonishment, and so was she. Dean, likely, had left for good, and she was happy for what that meant for the both of them.

Sam had an air about him following that interaction. He was happy and spoke to Dean often. In his childhood and adulthood he always feared one of them would die too young to see the other grow old. If that didn’t happen, he was sure they would have a large fight and never make up, but they remained close despite those predictions. Dean was there for nearly every Christmas and Thanksgiving that followed the phone call, even though he said it was only for the food. Dean hadn’t been the only one to join Sam and Eileen during the holidays at their home, of course.

Jody, with Donna and the girls, joined often and teased the boys for their old age every year and Dean remained close with Claire following his absence from the bunker. Sam didn’t think to think too much about it but, more times than not, when Dean visited Sam casually, Claire was in tow, always eager to join him on hunts and growing into a capable young woman with a penchant for medicine. That fact reassured Sam that Dean was not likely to be lost with her beside him during hunts.

Miracle’s passing was followed up by Sam and Eileen having a baby girl. Sam and Dean’s makeshift family followed the latter journey every step of the way. Charlie had been excited to have her own as well so it wasn’t abnormal to see her drop by and ask Eileen how she's feeling and if she had any advice to give if Charlie wanted to have one of her own with her girlfriend by her side. Eileen was more than happy to oblige and answer those questions for her.

When she was born, the waiting room was flooded with over forty hunters from their universe and the apocalypse universe that no longer existed. Mary was calm and mild mannered like both of her parents. She would likely be just as smart as her parents and Dean never hesitated to let her know that when he visited them for the holidays following. 

By the time Mary was seven, Charlie had a baby of her own and proudly showed him off to the group of hunters and friends that joined the Thanksgiving celebration that year. Mary, eager, asked her dad when Uncle Dean would be coming and Sam insisted she had to be patient, which she desperately attempted to do. All her suppression of excitement during the hours of waiting for her uncle resulted in an explosion of squeals when Dean entered and scooped her up playfully. Funnily enough, everyone predicting she would be calm and mild-mannered was negated by her favorite uncle’s brash nature.

“There’s my girl!” he spoke excitedly and groans as he tries to lift her up as high as he would have normally but he got about halfway before placing her down on the ground and smirking at her. “You’re getting to be just as tall as your daddy, huh?”

Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes before they focused in on a larger box Dean had stuck into his bag with a pink bow. “What’s that, Dean?”

“Huh? Oh, this?” he whips out the box and smirks down at Mary, “I don’t know, Mary, what do YOU think this is?”

“It’s a Christmas present!”

“Yep, needed to get this to your daddy early, you still need to wait a month though.”

She groaned but accepted the situation before smiling and running off to dote over Aunt Charlie’s baby.

Dean walked up to Sam and handed him the gift, eyes bright as he looked over the individuals in the room. Sam spoke, still looking down at the box in his hands.

“This mean you won't be coming over for Christmas?”

Dean glanced back towards the gift thoughtfully before looking towards Sam. “You know I hate to miss Christmas, giving it to you early just in case. Have a few cases on the roster that I’m considering and if any of them bleed into Christmas, I wanted Mary to at least get a gift from me, you know?”

“Not working yourself silly?”

“Nah, just doing all the good I can manage. I’m human, after all,” Dean says with a smile.

Sam was happy for the words but frowned as he figured Dean would have had a wife by that point if he wasn’t actually working himself silly. Was Dean lying to him? It was something Sam had been concerned about since Mary turned three but opted to be more patient with Dean than anything. Patience was what he deserved.

Sam, sitting at the table with everyone in tow, happily reflected on the memory of his Dean witnessed years ago: sitting with another family during the holidays enjoying their food and the family life he couldn’t relate to at the time. This Thanksgiving wasn’t unlike any of the others and Sam reflected on that memory and the life he made for himself often. Dean and Sam met stares like they did every other Thanksgiving when they truly realized how lucky they were until it got to the end of the night when the kids were tired and the adults were respectfully tipsy.

As everyone chatted following dinner, Sam couldn’t help but notice his brother was missing from the festivities. Mary had been settled so it wouldn’t have been unsurprising for Dean to lose interest and find a chair to sleep on but Sam still couldn’t find him. Finally, he caught the image of his brother leaning over the fencing on the back porch, beer bottle in hand as he looked over the dark field ahead. The view provided nothing crazy aside from the decent sight of the stars up above. 

Sam joined him and stared ahead, words, unspoken, behind his closed lips as he stewed in the silence. He glanced behind him towards the group of friends, partially obscured, and his gorgeous wife, and used that for fuel for the statement he’d been keeping to himself for a few years at that point. “You ever plan on settling down like this? Have a wife and kids? Is that on your mind at all?” Sam’s eyes were softened with concern towards his brother. He noted that Jody had been right about the years never ceasing to pass. While he himself had greying hairs on his temples, Dean’s hair now took on a dull brown look, fading rather than greying. His wrinkles were deepening as well but not in a way Sam disliked. His frown lines remained how they always were but his crows feet were extra defined. Despite Sam’s worries, Dean was a happy man.

Those crows feet only deepened when his question prompted a smile from Dean. He had been still during the silence but his hand flexed around the neck of the beer bottle as he looked down and thought up a viable answer for his worried brother. “May not be what you wanted for yourself but I like how things are for me right now. It’s not normal but it's humble and unpredictable without being dangerous. Best of what you and I wanted for me if I ever got this far,” he laughs out.

Sam let out his own abortive laugh with softened eyes. Dean was privy to visits and was with Claire a lot but surely he couldn’t be happy without a partner and children of his own, right? Almost as though Dean read his mind, he continued.

“I wouldn’t mind having a kid though, if I ever feel I’m ready for it but…” he sighs softly, eyes bright, “Claire is good.”

“You see Claire as your kid?” Sam spoke softly and acceptingly.

Dean nods, “yeah, I think I do,” he chuckles almost in disbelief, “she, uh…” he tried and failed to stifle a smile, “she called me dad on a phone a few months ago and uh… I don’t know, man, it just felt right.”

Sam noticed Dean’s eyes were wet with sentimentality and nodded, eyes growing calm as he remembered watching her grow following Cass taking her father’s vessel. Sam’s eyes softened as he thought about the angel but didn’t speak of him.

Dean swallowed down his emotions and continued despite his better judgement. Sam gave off an air of openness that Dean finally decided he was willing to adhere to.

“I never told you what happened before Cass died, did I?”

Sam’s eyes widened and looked towards Dean eagerly.

Dean recognized his eagerness and faintly felt bad that he kept Sam in the dark in all the years he spent coping. Some part of him had hoped he could have Cass himself explain. Clearing his throat and nodding to himself for hype, he explained.

“Cass sacrificed himself so the Empty could come take Death away, you know that but… Well.” Dean warily looked towards Sam.

Sam responded with a patient look and Dean regained his confidence.

“Cas made some kind of deal with the Empty at some point, don’t know when. He told me the deal was when he became happy, he’d be taken away.”

Sam’s brows furrowed, not understanding where this was going.

Dean cleared his throat again, now gripping the neck of his beer bottle and staring as deeply into the dark as he could, attempting to place himself as far away from the house as he could manage subconsciously. “He told me he loved me, Sammy.”

Sam’s mouth gaped.

“He,” Dean took a deep shuddering breath, unable to stand still as he dropped his thousand yard stare and hung his head, momentarily overwhelmed with the confession, “he told me loved me and that that was good enough. That he was happiest being honest with me about it, and then he…”

Sam now understood and placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder as if he was telling him he didn’t have to explain what happened after. 

“Sammy?” his voice was hoarse and surprisingly fearful but overwhelmingly vulnerable. Sam felt like Dean was a kid again but this was different because Dean never allowed Sam to console him, that was always Dean’s job. 

“Yeah, Dean?”

Dean was now white knuckling the bottle as he shuddered. “Sammy, I think I loved him too,” he choked out painfully and raised his head, eyes wet as he looked up at the stars in hopes that the tears would cease. He placed the bottle on the raising so he could use his free hand to cover his eyes and rub the evidence of hurt from his face

Sam didn’t see much but he saw Dean’s face flush and mouth tense as he tried to stifle the sobs that threatened to spill from his mouth and gave in, using the hand on his shoulder to drag him into a powerful hug, silent because all Dean needed in that moment was comfort. Eventually, Dean gained the ability to speak in a way that was understandable, breaths evening. 

“I tried so hard to get him back.”

Sam pulled away slightly to scrutinize him, willing to serve disappointment if Dean’s words meant he would have been willing to sacrifice himself again. Dean responded by nodding his head no.

“After you left, I spent those months looking for anything. I wouldn’t summon the Empty but I just wanted to know if he was there. I wanted to talk to him but nothing worked, Sam.”

Sam recalled the smell of smoke in the bunker when he got there to look for Dean after he left and he realized.

“I just wanted to know if he was there but it was like,” Dean froze in the middle of his sentence, remembering sitting on the dock with a line in front of him and Cass by his side. He squeezed his eyes shut to compose himself before going on, “it was like I was casting a line with bait that could only get the attention of one fish but hours would pass and days would pass and nothing ever bit. It was like Cass wasn’t there at all, Sam. And I was so…” he stops himself briefly but continues, “I wasn’t really okay with it until I thought that, even though Cas was gone for good, he would want me to use that free will I worked so hard for and he would want me to live for myself and do what I wanted.”

Sam was crying calmly, a tear streaking down his slightly aged face occasionally as Dean spoke.

“I don’t think I’m ever going to feel the way I realized I felt about Cass for someone else but I’m okay with that, Sam,” he speaks, looking into Sam’s eyes and cupping his cheek, “I’ll be okay.”

Sam scoffed out a laugh through his tears as he nodded and accepted the comfort.

“I’ll be okay because,” he looked down, gathering the words in his mind before speaking them out to the world, “happiness isn’t just in the having, it’s in the being and feeling.”

Sam couldn’t stop himself from thinking back to all the times he admonished Dean for his loyalty to Cass, for his anger directed at Cass that was mostly fueled by disappointment rooted in love, all the arguments they had that he involved himself in, and suddenly his jokes back then weren’t all jokes. 

Dean begins genuinely crying and glances back towards the window and into the warm house. Eileen was peeking around the corner curiously but Dean feigned a smile for her before looking back at his brother. “You have something so good.”

Sam smiled and nodded, squeezing his eyes shut as he did so before once again meeting his big brother’s eyes.

“It’s something you built for yourself and I’m so damned proud of you, Sam,” he lovingly used the hand against his cheek to shake his head about playfully, “my baby brother.”

Sam lets out a wet laugh as he allows Dean to lead them into pressing their foreheads together. Both brother’s realized that was likely the last time Dean would tell Sam he was proud of him, not because he would be disappointed later, but because he achieved his ultimate happiness with Eileen and the family he and Dean built together.

“Are you expecting anyone?”

Bobby was shaken from his trance as he stared ahead at the world Jack built for them. He enjoyed having John, Mary, and his other friends nearby nearly as much as he enjoyed stewing in the calmness. Sitting on the porch and enjoying stillness was something he did on Earth and would continue to do throughout the afterlife.

“Hopefully not anytime soon.”

An awkward silence was the response and Bobby realized the man misinterpreted his words, “I meant anyone that’s not here already, you jackass,” he chuckles out affectionately, patting the chair and handing the man a beer when he joins him.

Cass scrutinized the bottle before tipping the liquid into his mouth and joining Bobby in the bliss of commonality despite not being fond of the taste. “Do you think they’ll like it here?”

“They’ll love it but they better not get here too soon.”

Cass looked towards Bobby with a warm, calm smile and nodded in agreement, looking back ahead at the gorgeous expanse before them.

[constant-creative-chaos]

supernatural is coming to an end. this is monumental. this is changing my world. i went through a lot in these past years and everytime i could go and hide away in the latest episode of supernatural. the supernatural family is my family. this fandom has taught me so much.

the spn family taught me that i am never alone, even in my worst moments. they taught me that no matter how far in the deep end i’ve found myself that i am worthy of forgiveness and peace.

there have been days that the only reason i didn’t give up was because supernatural taught me to keep fighting until i can’t, and then fight more when i reach that point.

i saw myself in dean, i always was the perfect little soldier. i never let my emotions show through. i never stopped fighting and my family was so important to me. and at times, i had to grow up much to fast.

i saw myself in sam because i soon saw that i couldn’t be a soldier anymore. i did everything i could to get away and yet i was still pulled back. i watched out for the people who were supposed to be taking care of me.

i looked up to bobby because he taught me that family isn’t blood, it isn’t who raised us, it’s the people we love. he never stopped working and always took care of sam and dean.

ellen, jo, charlie, jody, and donna were strong rolemodels in my life. growing up i hadn’t seen many strong women in shows i watched, so to see this was incredible.

these characters mean so much to me and they will for a very long time.

goodbye supernatural.

[ilikebeesandflowers]

Finale? What finale?

That was just the Empty torturing a wayward gay angel... Here’s what really happened after Cas confessed his LOVE to Dean Winchester and was taken to Super Mega Hell...

Unedited, unproofread, unbeta’d- just pure, unadulterated, whiskey-and-rage-fueled fix-it fic. Ps, El Sol cerveza is the official beverage of fake-dream-worlds, and therefore the entire narrative of the finale is sus.

Love Lift Us Up (Where We Belong)

Cas slumbered, but fitfully. Oblivion plagued him with nightmares.

Some dreams replayed memories, even of memories that were not strictly his: one by one, everyone he loved torn apart at an atomic level, rent, poofed to dust. His sleeping self watched on a loop as Bobby, Charlie, Donna, nameless others fell, obliterated.

He saw Michael slay Lucifer, the foregone conclusion so many times delayed.

He saw Michael betray the Winchesters. But how? Why? Michael had changed, hadn’t he? Adam had changed him. Even asleep, Cas knew this to be true.

He watched Jack, his loving and beloved son, fulfilling the promise Kelly had known he held. Jack bringing peace to the world, restoring balance, returning all life on earth to its rightful places. Cas was certain that this dream was true. He felt Jack’s presence, unmistakable lightness and goodness and purity.

The Empty roiled violently, rippling the fabric of its realm.

The dreams changed again to nightmares.

Dean, alone. Sam, alone. Eileen, alone.

The hunters who had died were again whole and alive, walking the earth as if Chuck’s poisonous animosity had never snuffed them. And yet they were all isolated from one another. Oh, the younger children clung to their parents, but the parents drifted from one another.

Charlie, alone. Donna, alone. Claire, alone.

The loneliness of the hunters infected the denizens of the Empty, and the Empty smiled in its sleep.

Cas dreamed that he watched Dean dying, an ignominious death in a ramshackle barn. He felt a wave of revulsion, of jealousy, like he did in another barn, once upon a time, witnessing a kiss between Anna and Dean. What had he felt then, way back when, when feelings were still so new and frightening? Had he been in love then?

The scene repeated, again and again, a horrible parody of what should have been. A confession of love, two foreheads touching, hands held over Dean’s heart. The scene replayed a hundred, a thousand times, Cas viewing from the vantage of the beloved, but Cas never could see who received Dean’s love. He only knew it wasn’t him. He could only watch through someone else’s eyes, hearing and seeing and feeling with intense loathing what should have been his.

Then Dean was dead.

 The scene faded again. Cas saw Sam, living on, without Dean, without Jack, without Eileen, without hunters or hunting. In the space of a human heartbeat, he was married, raising a human child, a son. In another heartbeat, he was old, then dying, then greeting his brother in heaven.

He felt again a tug as if Jack were near. A faint glow.

Cas woke. Two amber eyes shone above him.

“Castiel,” said Jack, “something is wrong. I need your help.”

Cas scrambled to his feet. “The dreams? They were real?”

Jack couldn’t know what Cas had seen, and yet he shook his head and assured him that, no, those were the Empty playing tricks. “But reality is in danger. Heaven and Hell are out of balance. Heaven’s brightest are all here, when they should be up there. We’ll have to wake them.”

The Empty howled somewhere far off, something that sounded like, “Let me sleep!”

Jack stepped briskly in the inky blackness, tapping here and there, naming sleeping entities. “Hannah, you are needed. Duma, awaken. Gabriel. Michael. Raphael, your services are humbly requested.”

Soon, the din of awakened angels, archangels, seraphs, and reapers had summoned a furious cosmic entity of entropy and oblivion. “KEEP. IT. DOWN,” it hissed.

“And what will you do if we don’t?” Castiel asked, raising an eyebrow to the Empty, who stood before them in the guise of Meg Masters, circa 2009.

The Empty stamped its foot. “I took you in. You all died the death of immortals, a death that cannot be rewarded nor punished, but I took you in! And all I ask for is quiet!”

“But why?” Cas continued. “You despise us. Why do you trap us here?”

The Empty hesitated. “They dream,” it replied. “They dream, and so I dream.”

“We suffer nightmares of your making.”

“No-oo. The dreams are yours.”

“You enjoy the nightmares?”

“No.” The Empty faltered. “They wake me up. You stir, I stir; I must sleep!”

Jack spoke softly to the Empty. “Then expel them.”

“Expel them? What, just set them all free to commit chaos?”

“Just the dreamers.”

The Empty seemed to calculate the price of granting the nephilim’s wish. “That would be almost all of the angels and a number of powerful demons. They might return, clomping into my haven and disturbing my sleep.”

“No,” Castiel put in, his eyes lit with a wry smile. “If you expel them, they will be forever banned from your realm. They become subject to Purgatory, not Oblivion.”

Jack smiled at his father. “Exactly!” He turned again to the Empty. “So you’ll do it?” he asked brightly.

The Empty scowled. It nodded once, as if making a decision.

The world went white, then faded to reveal a sunny meadow. Roly-poly bumblebees flitted between fat heads of purple clover. A nest of chickadees chirped. Cicadas droned. A red kite soared above them, the string held by someone a long way off. Cas’ face softened, as if recalling a long-lost memory.

It hardened again as he sensed something amiss. “Jack,” he frowned, “the walls between the human heavens are failing.”

Jack nodded. “Yes, which is why we need more angelic energy. But watch.” He drew a small window in the air with his index finger. He pushed the cut-out, revealing an adjoining heaven belonging to a woman. Cas recognized her as the mother of the man with the kite. Her heaven contained a meadow: the same meadow that surrounded them, rather than the manicured lawn Cas knew from the man’s original heaven.

“They can co-exist,” he breathed.

“Yes. We can break these barriers and open Heaven. It doesn’t need to be a prison. We can fix it.” Jack grinned again, that same old smile he’d worn in life, when he learned the taste of nougat or the softness of a bunny rabbit.

The sight warmed Cas. The summer sky glowed just a bit brighter. “Tell me what to do, my son.”

***

For six days, as Heaven measures time, the angels, the archangels, and the nephilim worked. First, negotiating a truce with Hell and its imperious but righteous Queen, and then building a Heaven for all. On the seventh day, they rested from their labors. They gathered to watch the humans on earth for a little while. Almost no time had passed: the humans had had just enough time to recollect that they had watched their loved ones vanish; those unfamiliar with the supernatural had quickly forgotten the phenomenon, as well. The hunters in the warded hideout had had just enough time to embrace their newly un-vanished friends.

Sam was texting Eileen, only to remember that he still had her phone, abandoned on the sidewalk mid-text. He laughed at himself. “We have to drive to Eileen’s house.”

Dean lay hunched over the table, carving a word into the polished wood alongside the Winchester family initials. Thus far, it read, “CAST,” and he was just starting on the I. “Pack us up- I wanna finish this, but I can be ready in twenty.” They watched as he finished his tribute to Castiel. He put two fingers to his lips, then pressed the finger pads against the grooves.

Cas itched to know how Dean meant the gesture.

Dean hastily scratched the name “JACK” into the table, too. “You done good, kid,” he murmured, patting the letters as he might once have patted Jack on the shoulder.

The angels drifted back to their tasks. Cas stayed, watching his friends. His family. He followed their movements towards Eileen. He witnessed the tearful reunion.

Sam started sniffling long before Dean pulled up behind Eileen’s little red car. He stepped over the sidewalk, where he had first absorbed her death, and a sob escaped him. In a few strides of his long legs, he was at the door. His hand shook as he reached for the doorbell. The second phone in his pocket vibrated: her doorbell notification. How would she know that he was there? He clapped the knocker, stamped his feet.

The door opened. Eileen. A vision, a sight for even Cas’ sore eyes. Sam was overwhelmed. He croaked her name, and she was in his arms. Where she belonged.

Back at the curb, Dean turned his face from the lovers. He fiddled with his phone, but who could he call?

Cas heard Dean think his name. He felt a pang of longing, but it wasn’t his own. Or rather, it matched his own. Echoed his, merged with his, swelling the aching feeling until he felt full to bursting with yearning for something he thought he could never have. Had thought he couldn’t have. Now, he wondered.

He called to his son.

Jack appeared beside him. He followed Cas’ gaze. “It’s time for you to return to him,” he mused.

“Yes, but,” Cas tripped over the words he wanted to say and couldn’t bear to say.

Fortunately, Jack understood. Without another word, he took Cas’ face in his hands. For a moment, their eyes glowed brightly, then Castiel’s dimmed to their customary shade of blue. When Jack’s golden aura had faded as well, he pulled away from Cas. He glanced down at the slim vial now slung around his neck by a black cord. The substance within sparkled, swirled, its hue a dazzling, electric blue-white. It looked like lightning in a bottle.

Cas swept his son into a crushing embrace. “Thank you,” he wept.

“You can always come home,” Jack told him.

Cas pulled back. “No. Where I’m going is home.” He smiled through the tears rushing down his cheek. “Goodbye, Jack. I love you.”

He rather felt than heard Jack’s reply, as he crossed from the celestial plane to the mortal realm. He stood now on that same sidewalk. Far to his right, Sam lifted Eileen, carrying her bridal-style into her home, letting the door slam behind them. To his left, a long black car. He gripped the passenger door handle, pulled it open. The hinges squeaked. He folded himself inside before turning to the driver.

Dean looked every bit as awed as Cas felt. This was right.

Before he could say anything, even so much as a simple “Hello, Dean,” he found himself in Dean’s arms. Where he belonged.

[supernaturaltfwmeme]

Between the lines. Part 4

Summary:The reader is at Stanford with Sam and a few other familiar faces. She gets introduced to Dean, an FBI agent for help with a paper. The two grow even closer when Dean learns about her daughter and her troublesome situation. Check out the other parts here.

Pairing: Dean x reader.

Warnings: Language, Domestic abuse.

Something about this whole thing didn’t sit right with Dean and he wasn’t going anywhere until he knew you were ok. He knocked on the door again louder this time.

Inside Daniel Grabbed you and shoved you towards the door.

“Get rid of him.” He spat. You didn’t want to know what would happen if you went against him so you carefully opened the door. You came face to face with a worried dean.

“Y/n/n, what the hell happened to you? Are you ok?” Dean asked trying to look around you.

“I’m fine de. I just fell.” You lied.

“If you ‘just fell’ why did you tell Charlie you got into a fight at the bar.” Shit of course Charlie would talk to Dean about it, she’s known the Winchesters her whole life.  

“I knew Charlie wouldn’t believe that I fell.” You say. Technically that wasn’t a lie.

“Neither do I y/n/n.” You step outside closing the door behind you.

“Dean you have to go.”

���I’m not leaving until I know you’re ok sweetheart.”  

“Dean I'm fine really but I need you to leave please.” you try and push him back towards his car. You were getting desperate. You knew if Dean stayed any longer Daniel would hurt him too.

“Y/n what the hell is goin’ on?”

“Look I can’t talk right now ok just please leave ok, I promise I'm fine just go before..”

“Before what?”

“Before it gets worse.”

“Y/n..”

“Dean just go home.” You snapped. But it did the trick Dean just sighed defeatedly before heading back over to his car. You watched him pull off and leave before heading back inside. The second you got inside Daniel was screaming again. You knew what was coming.

A few days had gone by since you Dean had shown up on your doorstep, he’d been none stop calling and texting you to make sure you we’re alright. Every time he did, Daniel got more and more angry at you. He was convinced you had cheated on him that night, apart from to go to classes, work and pick Amelia up, he hadn’t let you out of his sight. You’d been avoiding all of your friends; you knew that they had an idea of what was happening but they didn’t understand nobody would understand. And that’s why you couldn’t tell them.  

You were just leaving the library when you felt someone grab your wrist and pull you down the side of the building out of sight, you winced at the contact. They had barely even touched you but you already had a particularly nasty bruise there. And just about everywhere else that your clothes would cover. You looked up at the person whose hand was attached to your arm. It was Sam. And Charlie was standing just behind him. Sam noticed you wince at the contact and gently pulled your sleeve up seeing the purple skin before sharing a look with Charlie. You didn’t dare look at them.

“Y/n/n I know you probably don’t want to but please tell us what happened. We're your friends we can help.” Sam said sympathetically. You shook your head.

“You can’t help no one can.”

“Y/n we already know what happening, but you need to talk to us. It might make you feel a little better just to talk about it.” Charlie added.

“You won’t understand.” You said furiously wiping at the tear that had made its way down your face.

“Try us.” Sam said, giving you a reassuring smile. You took a shaky breath and finally made eye contact with your friends.

“Daniel he- uh- he likes to drink and when w-when he gets drunk he gets so mad and and..” You couldn’t finish the sentence. Tears now flowing freely down your face. Charlie pulled you into a tight hug for a minute until you had calmed down before letting go.

“y/n/n, why don’t you just leave him?” Sam asked.

“I can’t it’s not that simple.” you admitted.

“Why not?”

“Because he has us trapped there, he pays all the bills my job just covers the stuff I need for school and my car, he pays for everything else. And nobody is going to take us in. I don’t have any family to turn to. But he only hits me and I can deal with it.” You rambled without thinking.

“Us?” Sam asked confused. Your eyed went wide and you started to panic again. That is until you felt Charlie lightly squeeze your upper arm.

“Y/n, just tell him. It’s Sam he’s not going to judge you.” You nodded your head taking another shaky breath. Charlie was right.

“I have a daughter.”

“You woah that’s, wait she’s not Daniel’s, is she?”

“No.”

“Thank god. What’s her name? How old is she?” Sam asked a little excited.

“Amelia and she’s 4.”

“Wow. Can I meet her?” Sam sounded almost nervous. That made you smile. You were seriously beginning to question why you ever hid her from your friends.

“Of course you can, I'm sure she’d love to meet her uncle Sammy.”

“Oh my god I'm an uncle, this is oh my god I need to sit down.”  You couldn’t help but laugh at Sam as he sat down on the nearby wall.  

“Y/n, you really need to both get out of that house or get Daniel out, if not for you then for that little girl.” Charlie said

“I can’t.”

“Maybe you should talk to Dean, he can help. Hell it’s literally his job.” Sam added.

“Sam I c..”

“Can’t I know, but can you at least think about it.”

“Ok I'll think about it.” You promised.  

“Sam one more thing.” Sam looked in your direction.

“You can’t tell anyone about Amelia ok?”

“I wont y/n/n. Promise.”

Later that night you were at home getting ready for work, you were trying to find an outfit that would cover your bruises, without making you to hot. You settled on a pair of blue skinny jeans with rips at the knees, a white top with long black sleeves and an ACDC logo on it and your black high-top converse. Not too long after you were pulling into the parking lot of a local bar, known as Harvelle’s roadhouse. It was the cops local watering hole of choice and also happened to be where you worked.

“Hey there Cinderella.” You couldn’t help but laugh at Ash’s nickname for you.  

“Really ash, you’re never gonna let that one go, are you?” You said as you walked behind the bar, tying an apron around your waist.  

“Never.” Ash turned to face you.

“Jesus Cinders, those bruises still there? How hard did this girl hit you?” Ash asked referring to the lie you had told him about the fight you’d had with a girl when you went out the other night.

“Eh don’t worry about it Ash, I've had worse.” It was sad but true. You slid Ash a PBR.

“Where’s Jo? I thought she was working tonight?” Ash didn’t say anything just nodded his head to the pool table at the other end of the room where Jo was laughing at something a guy was saying and twirling her hair.  After a few minutes of Jo not getting the reaction she wanted she walked back over to the bar.

“Struck out Jo?” you teased.

“I’m not sure, maybe he’s playing hard to get.” She sulked leaning against the bar. The man Jo was talking to was playing pool with two other men and two women. The guy and one of his friends had their backs to you, but you could see the other man and the two women. The other guy looked older maybe mid 50’s and was wearing a suit. The woman with the short dark hair was wearing some sort of police uniform and looked around mid 40’s and the slightly short woman had long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail and was also wearing a police uniform looked to be in her early 30’s.  

You turned your attention to a random customer waiting at the bar, not noticing the group approach the other end of the bar where Jo was to take a seat after having finished their game. You turned around to talk to Jo and noticed a familiar face.

“Cas?” You walked over to the four people sitting there, the man Jo had been flirting with was nowhere to be seen.

“y/n is that you?” you smiled at the slightly older man.

“It’s good to see you again.”  

“You too Cassy.” Cas pulled his face at the nickname.

“Well would you look what the cat dragged in.” You heard a familiar voice say from behind Cas. The man Jo had been flirting with.

“Dean.” You smiled. “What are you doing here?”  

“It’s a bar sweetheart.” You laughed at that.

“Wait you two know each other?” Jo asked.

“Yeah this is Sam’s big brother.”

“Oh so this is the guy you were out with when you were ignoring my texts.” Jo teased making you blush.

“Ooo had cinders got a crush.” Ash joined in.

“Oh shut it ‘Dr badass’. “

“Cinders ay?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“As in Cinderella.” You explained.

“Why does he call you Cinderella?”  

“Because it doesn’t matter if she’s at work or you’ve convinced her to come out, she always disappears before midnight.” Jo explained laughing. Making you roll your eyes.

“That’s funny I couldn’t get rid of you until midday.” Dean added taking a swig of his beer.  

“Oh you had to make that sound so much worse than it was didn’t you.” You laughed. Jo, Cas and Ash looking between you both and the obvious flirting going on.

“Are you not gonna introduce us ya idgit.” The older man Said to Dean.

“Sorry, y/n/n this is bobby, my boss. And this is Jody and Donna, they both work at the station where my mom does, and Jody is and old friend of Bobby’s too. Guys this is Y/n y/l/n. She goes to school with Sammy.” Dean explained. You all greeted each other and carried on the conversation. You and Dean flirted back and forth for the rest of your shift.  

Over the next couple of weeks you and Dean texted back and forth getting closer every day. You hid it front Daniel as best as you could, deleting messages and stuff. He didn’t like you being friends with Charlie, never mind Sam and now Dean. Today was no different, Dean had just finished his morning shift, and you were stuck at school.

I’ve got to go to my stupid creative writing class and it sucks it’s so boring. You texted Dean.

Oh come on, it can’t be that bad. Dean texted back

I mean Sam, Charlie and Jess are in the class with me, but it still sucks.

If only you had someone to save you from it.  

Yeah if only. You replied but Dean never texted you back.  

After about 20 minutes of class someone knocked on the door.

“Come in.” your teacher, Professor Crowley, said. In walked Dean in his suit and flashed his badge.  

“Mr Crowley is it? I’m Agent Winchester i need a word with one of your students and I wouldn’t expect her back a er.” Dean make a dramatic show of flipping through a notebook and stopping on a page before continuing.  

“Miss y/n y/l/n?”

“Yes of course, you heard the agent y/n.” Crowley ushered you out. Sam, Jess and Charlie could barely hold back their laughter.

When you got outside the class room you turned to Dean.

“De what the hell is going on?”

“I’m saving you from the boring class sweetheart, now let’s go before Sammy, Charlie and Jess blow my cover.” Dean grabs your hand and starts dragging you down the hallway. You felt a jolt of electricity run through you at the contact but didn’t let go.  Dean didn’t drop you hand until you made it to the impala and both climbed inside.

Before Dean could even start the car his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was a text from Sam.

Could of got us all out of here De.

When you look like her Sammy maybe I will

Bitch

Jerk. Dean Laughed putting his phone down and starting the car

“Where are we going?” You asked.

“You’ll just have to wait and see sweetheart.” Dean laughed.

“Really De, you kidnap me from class and can’t even tell me where your taking me.”

“Pretty much.”

“Fine.” You pouted, “but I have to be back here for 3.” you told him.

“Why’s that?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know Winchester.” Dean drove for a little while, drumming on the steering wheel and dancing in his seat making you laugh, before pulling up to an empty field on the edge of town turning his music up and climbing out of the car leaving his door open and instructing you to do the same. He went to his trunk and pulled out his blanket and a couple of beers. He put down the blanket laying down of top of it and patting the space next to him. He passed you a beet and just stared up at the sky.  

“Dean what are we doing?”

“Cloud gazing.” He said as if it was the most obvious thing.

“Why?”  

“Because you won’t let me take you out late enough to stargaze.” He shrugged. You spent the next few hours pointing out random clouds and coming up with ridiculous things they were and just talking it was nice.

You and Dean had been getting along so well recently, you really felt like there could be something there. Maybe someone would actually want you and could help you get away from Daniel. The only problem was he didn’t know about Amelia yet. But you were going to change that. You were going to tell him. Today

On the drive back to Stanford, you turned to Dean.

“Hey de.”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I have something to...” You were interrupted by the sound of Deans phone ringing. He gave you an apologetic smile.

“Sorry do you mind if I?”

“No go ahead.”

“Winchester.” Dean said answering the phone, his face immediately dropped. You could only hear Deans side of the conversation.

“Lisa I don’t know how many times I have to tell you we’re not getting back together. Ever.” Dean paused for a minute letting the person on the other end, Lisa, talk.

“You know why.” He paused again.

“Because I refuse to raise a child that’s not mine.”  

Tags: @waywardaardvark79 @vicmc624 @frackinawesomeninja @carryon-doctor-lock @supernatural508​

[saultnpeppah]

Day 5: Dress Shopping

May 15. Downtown Gotham. 09:37.

Diana

"Oh Diana, that is beautiful."

I glance over my shoulder, taking in the reflection of myself in the mirror, dressed in the sixth wedding dress I've tried on today. The lace that covers the top crawls up my neck, meeting the satin that lays just above my breasts, before it flows down the rest of my torso, clenching at the waist and finishing in a long train. My eyes shift and meet Lois', who sits, head tilted, examining all the angles of the dress on my body as I turn to meet the women seated behind me.

"It is beautiful," I say, agreeing with Lois' earlier claim, "but don't you think this is a bit much?" I lift the train, bunching up the excessive fabric into my hands, showing the girls the part of the dress I don't particularly like.

Ahead of me, my four bridesmaids are seated, squished together on a loveseat only made for two. Lois sits on the end, next to Donna, who has been spending the last few days with Bruce and I in the manor, wanting to be here since my mother was unable to come help me find a dress. Beside Donna sits my old college roommate, Shayera Hol. She has been in California for the last six years, working with the FBI, and although I've missed having a female friend to vent to, we've kept up with weekly video calls. She was one of the first people to know when Bruce and I started dating, and was overly excited when we got engaged. She had work in New York next week and was able to stop in Gotham for a few days, wanting to spend some time with me and Bruce before the wedding.

Beside Shayera sits Charlie, who whistles my way as she fills her champagne glass once more. "Oh you can always get that fixed," Charlie says, sipping from her glass. She watches as Shayera nods in agreement, her lips pursing as she stays deep in thought, before Charlie turns to Donna. "What about you, Donna," she asks. "What do you think?"

Donna shrugs and I can see she is not in love with the dress I wear. "It's nice," she says. "But this," she motions to her neck, pointing out the lace that adorns the neckline, "is too much."

I nod, pulling the lace from my neck and take a deep breath. "I agree." I take a seat on the chair across from the girls and drop my head in my hands, frustrated that it's been over two hours and I have still yet to find the dress I am going to wear for my wedding.

Lois stands from her spot on the love seat and walks around the room, pulling various dresses from the rack to look at them. "We'll find one, Diana," she says.

Donna joins Lois looking at all the dresses, trying to be as helpful as she can since she's only here for a few days. She feels guilty that she can't do more from Greece, but I appreciate the fact that she's traveled here more than she knows.

I watch the two of them continue their quest for the perfect dress, knowing nothing they pull will be it. There are dresses they flash my way that have the perfect neckline, and some that have details sewn in that make my heart flutter, but none scream out perfection.

"You know Bruce is going to find you beautiful in anything you wear." I glance up to see Shayera standing by my side, her half empty champagne glass in hand.

I offer her a smile. "I know," I say, "But that doesn't mean I don't want the perfect dress." And I mean it. I only hope it doesn't take another two hours to find it.

XXXXX

May 15. Wayne Manor. 22:17.

The manor is dark and quiet. Alfred has already retired for the night and Bruce is still at the office, trying to prepare for a board meeting he's supposed to have in the morning. My hand skims over the sheets of the bed, grasping at the empty space where Bruce should be laying. I want nothing more than to be in his arms tonight, his taunt muscles holding my body against his as he lets me complain about not finding the dress today.

I had spent over three hours trying on dress after dress, each with a charm of its own, but none that matched the idea that had been bouncing around in my head since the day Bruce proposed. As a child I hadn't put much thought into a wedding. After all, my mother had never married, and she was a strong woman, someone I admired. But the moment Bruce proposed, I found myself looking at more wedding magazines and online boards than I thought possible, wanting that perfect day to share our love with family and friends.

My hand squeezes the sheets once more, wondering if I should just stay awake until Bruce gets in. I know I will not be able to sleep until he is laying next to me, so I quickly pull the comforter off and roll out of the bed. Walking to the bedroom door, I grab the robe laying over the chair by the vanity and pull it on, before I walk out of the bedroom and down the hall.

The wooden floors creak under my weight but I continue on, knowing nothing I do will stop the old floorboards from announcing my presence. When I first moved into the manor, I was always worried my walking around at night would wake Bruce, or Alfred, but that fear quickly diminished when I realized Bruce had an even harder time sleeping than I did, and Alfred never heard me, or if he had he hadn't said anything.

There were some nights I would find myself exploring the manor, trying to learn of Waynes past. One night I had found myself in the library and, enticed by the mountains upon mountains of books, had occupied myself until morning, where I had cursed myself for at least not getting a small nap in before work.

But tonight I wasn't in need of exploration or a good book. No, tonight what I needed was a hot cup of tea, something to calm my nerves until Bruce rolled through that door, exhausted and ready to climb into the bed with me.

As I descend down the stairs I find myself staring at the photos along the wall. As a child, whenever I would visit the manor, Bruce never wanted to talk about the pictures, not wanting to remember those he had lost. But as time went on, he was more than willing to share the names of his family, always stopping to smile at the wide grins of his parents, forever immortalized by the photograph. It was his most treasured memory of the three, the night before their deaths, when Thomas had stayed home with Bruce and Martha, wanting to show Bruce how to master the game of monopoly.

Once I hop off the last step I waste no time in making my way to the kitchen, cautiously flipping on only one of the lights. It is all I need to allow me to maneuver around the room without bumping into anything. I quickly retrieve the kettle from beside the stove and fill it with water, placing it back onto the burner and turning the appliance on, taking a seat on one of the bar stools that line the breakfast bar.

To the right of me is a pad of paper and, knowing I have a few minutes before my water will be ready, I reach over and grab it, plucking a pen from the container by its side. Before I know what I am doing, my hand is sketching a few things on the paper, on autopilot as my mind thinks back to all the dresses I've seen. Countless hours of research on the types of necklines, and material, and trains, and I still have no idea what I am wanting in a dress. I had originally toyed with the idea of getting a custom dress, something that was specially tailored just for me, but our date was much too close, and I still was unsure of the details I wanted included. It was a hard way to convince someone to expedite a custom dress if you weren't even sure which direction to go. So that idea was quickly abandoned.

My hand continues to drag the pen along the paper as I absentmindedly stare at the blue ink. The light flickers on, startling me, and I drop the pad and paper, turning in the stool to see Alfred walking my way, his robe cinched tightly around his waist.

"You're up awfully late, Ms. Diana," he says. He walks to the stove, where the tea kettle has just begun to whistle loudly, shifting it from the hot burner to a cold one, before he turns and pulls two mugs out from a cupboard.

I shrug my shoulders, watching as he moves around the kitchen with ease. This is his solace, his sanctuary, just as the library is mine. He knows this room like the back of his hand.

"I couldn't sleep," I confess. "Waiting for Bruce."

Alfred nods. He understands the attention Bruce's company and title needs from him, especially when they have business and partnerships with other companies. Recently Wayne Enterprises has been doing business with Queen Consolidated and I know Bruce is working his hardest on it in an effort to help out Ollie.

"Ah, Master Wayne," Alfred says, "he is much like his father. Working long into the night, trying his hardest to help all those that he can." I nod, watching as Alfred pours the boiling water into the two mugs that he has already placed tea bags in, before he places the kettle back onto the stove. He hands me the mug and I graciously accept it, knowing full well that Alfred has already added the chamomile that'll relax me enough until my fiance comes home.

"How was this afternoon?" he asks, switching the conversation to what I'd rather not talk about. I only let out a sad sigh, sipping the hot beverage, folding my legs under me as I sink into the stool. It is all the response Alfred needs. "Unable to find one," he asks, although his tone implies he already knows the answer.

I only shake my head and close my eyes. "It's not supposed to be this hard, Alfred."

Alfred takes a sip from his own mug and shrugs, twisting his lips into a pout as he ponders his next few words. "You'll find the perfect one, Ms. Diana," he says, "and then all this worry will be a figment of the past."

I suppose Alfred is right. Soon I'll find the perfect dress and there will have been no sense in having worried so much, but after the three hours this afternoon, part of me is still skeptical. I am unable to voice my skepticism, however, when the door to the kitchen swings open and Bruce walks in, shoulders slumped and tired.

He walks into the room, greeting both me and Alfred, stopping only to kiss the back of my head and whisper that he is heading straight to bed. I nod, letting him know I'll be up as soon as I'm done with my tea, and he leaves the room. For the next twenty minutes Alfred and I sit in silence, sipping our tea contently, happy to have the company of the other.

When I finish I rise from the stool and attempt to take my mug to the sink but Alfred intercepts me and takes the dirty mug, shooing me off to bed, telling me to get a good night's rest. I oblige, thanking him for everything he does, which he only responds with a nod and a bright smile, before I head out of the kitchen and upstairs to our bedroom, discarding my robe as I jump into Bruce's waiting arms.

XXXXX

July 16. Wayne Manor. 17:42.

My head still swirls with thoughts of uncertainty as I walk through the front doors of the manor, greeting Alfred with a nod as I step into the foyer. He takes notice of my puzzled face and raises an eyebrow, his eyes traveling to the elegant box in my hand, shutting the door behind me as he asks, "Is everything alright, Ms. Diana?"

I hesitate for a moment and give him a nod, still sure there is something I am missing. The box in my hand baffles me even more as I am unsure why I now own this item. Having received a call this morning from the dress shop saying they had an order for me, I was confused and thought they had made a mistake. I still had yet to find that perfect dress, and with two months already gone and wasted, I was feeling more and more helpless by the day. Ultimately Charlie had convinced me to take a long lunch to go to the shop and try and sort things out, promising that this was not another elaborate scheme Bruce was a part of, and that she'd oversee the packaging and shipment of items from our Tibet exhibit, which had finished two days prior and were now going to be sent to D.C. in an effort to widen our network.

On my lunch I went to the shop, trying to rattle my brain for any reason I should be there. Maybe they had found another dress that might suit me? Maybe they had gotten in touch with other designers who were more than happy to help me find something to my liking, all willing to help just to get their designs on the cover of every magazine once photos of the wedding were leaked, and while that sounded like a marvelous idea, today I did not have time to try on another dozen dresses.

This, however, had not been the case, as when I went there and told the younger lady at the front desk I had received a call from their sales manager, she disappeared behind a door marked "staff only", only to appear a few minutes later holding a delicately wrapped box. It is the same box I hold in my hand now, only less delicately wrapped, as I had ripped it open as soon as I was back in the solace of my own vehicle.

"I went back to the dress shop," I explain, "and they gave me this." I open the box and carefully pull out the piece of lace, lifting it high enough for Alfred to see.

"Why I do believe that is a veil," he says slyly.

I nod. Of course I know what it is, but why do I have it? "But why would they give me a veil when I have no dress." Alfred only smirks and I raise an eyebrow and gently place the lacy veil back into the box. "What are you hiding?" I ask, suspicious of the butler.

"Just follow me, Ms. Diana," he says. He playfully snatches the box out of my hand and walks up the stairs, turning once to glance over his shoulder and make sure I am following him, before he continues to lead me down the hall to the bedroom I share with Bruce.

He flashes me one more smirk and opens the door, moving aside so I can step into the room. My eyes focus on the item in front of me and I can't help but gasp, covering my mouth in shock as I stare at the mannequin of a torso placed in the middle of the room. Covering it is the most beautiful dress I've ever seen, however I can't help but feel as if I've seen this before. It's sleek, it's detailed, it's form fitting….it's mine.

"Alfred," I say, still in shock as I let my fingers gently graze the light fabric that makes up the top layer of the dress, the intricate designs woven in between the lace and tulle. The lace sleeves have the same designs woven in and the train that is attached is long enough to have the desired effect, but short enough to be practical. "Where did you get this?"

I turn to face Alfred and flash him a wide smile. He says nothing as he pulls the sketch I had absentmindedly done the night of my failed dress shopping with the girls. "I knew you had something beautiful here, Ms. Diana," he says, "I just wanted you to have your dream dress."

I am at a loss for words. This man has done more for me in the last six months than my own father has my entire life. Before he knows what is happening, my arms are wrapped around him, pulling him in for a tight hug. His body tenses at first but I soon feel him relax and wrap his own arms around my body, hugging me back just as tightly.

"Now, now," he says, "There's no time for tears." He pulls away from me and wipes my cheek with his thumb, where the evidence of my emotions has started to fall, and nods toward the dress. "Let's try it on, shall we?"

I nod, kicking my shoes off and onto the bedroom floor, watching as Alfred steps out of the room to give me privacy. Excited, I discard my work clothes into a neat pile on the floor, pushing them aside with my foot, before I untie the back of the dress. Carefully minding the fabric, I slip the dress off the mannequin, and pull it up and over my body, pulling my arms through the lace sleeves, a smile on my face as more and more pieces fit like perfection.

I turn to face the large mirror beside the bed while my hands run down my sides, smoothing the fabric that has bunched up around my torso, and I wonder how Alfred has made this dress fit like a glove. The dress hugs each of my curves like an old friend and I can't help but smirk when I see the neckline stop just above my bust, which leaves a beautiful visual, but still tastefully leaves some to the imagination. This is definitely the dress I am going to wear on my wedding day, and I can't thank Alfred enough for the amount of work he has put into this, never once stopping to think of how much stress it was going to cause him. Planning this wedding without my mother or sister around hasn't been the easiest, but Alfred has helped much more than I could have ever hoped for.

Taking one last turn I notice the corset in the back still needs tightening, and no matter how long I may think my arms to be, I will not be able to do it myself. "Alfred," I call over my shoulder, "can you help me tie up the back?"

The door slowly opens and Alfred steps in. He stops when he sees me, his eyes doing a once over of the back of the dress before his eyes meet mine through the mirror. I can see there is a smile on his face which means the tears that threaten to fall from his eyes are nothing more than happy tears.

Alfred has known Bruce all his life, and me most of mine. He was the one who would pick the two of us up from grade school when my mother was working late in the office, ensuring my mother he would make sure I completed all assignments before any play time was had. My mother trusted him, he was probably the only man my mother could actually trust, and because of that trust, I came to love him as part of my own family. That love only grew when Bruce and I started dating, where I could confide in this man things I was not able to voice to Bruce. To me, Alfred was more than a butler, more than a man who had taken Bruce in after his parents' deaths- he was family.

I turn to face the English man, my own smile etched on my face as I shake my head, letting him know he needed to save those tears for the actual wedding. "If you cry," I say, trying to clear my voice before it cracks, "then I cry."

Alfred chuckles, pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, and dabs his eyes, before he takes a deep breath. Placing the handkerchief back into his pocket he says, "I wouldn't dare." He steps further into the room and closes the door. He knows Bruce isn't set to come home for another hour but he doesn't want to risk me being seen in the dress. "But you look absolutely radiant, Ms. Diana," he compliments.

I dip my head down, trying to avoid having him see the small blush that colors my cheek, before I shake my head. "It's the dress," I say, "It's beautiful."

He twists his finger, asking me to turn so he can access the corset, and I oblige. He's quick to work on the corset, pulling it taunt as it tightens around my waist, conforming to the shape of my body. When he is done, he takes a step back and admires his work, moves to the front of my body, and fiddles with the neckline. "I'm so glad this came out as well as it did," he says nonchalantly, as if he didn't just create the most beautiful wedding dress I've ever seen from scratch.

"How did you know my size," I ask, turning to look at the back of my dress, which is now completely done, showing just how complex this dress is.

Alfred only smirks. "You forget who helped Master Bruce buy your last birthday gift." I only nod, remembering the beautiful little black dress Bruce had given me for my birthday. He reaches over and plucks the veil from the box laying on the bed and gently places it on my head. "And now for the finishing touch," he says, carefully arranging the lace that compliments the lace in the dress Alfred has made.

I take one last look in the mirror, my heart hammering in my chest as I look at myself. Alfred was right, the veil was the finishing touch that tied up the entire look. I can't wait to wear this on the day Bruce and I marry. "This is the dress," I whisper. "This is the dress I'm going to wear to marry Bruce." Alfred wraps an arm around my shoulders and gives me a gentle squeeze glad to know he did well. "Thank you, Alfred. I don't know how I can repay you for this."

He only shakes his head and says, "Consider this a wedding gift." He takes one last look at the dress, content to know he has done well.

I turn and smile at Alfred one last time, throwing my arms around the man, silently thanking him for everything. This may have been unexpected, and it may have been more stressful to Alfred than he would like to admit, but this dress, this beautiful dress, is better than any dress I could get from a shop. And for that I am truly grateful. Only 5 more months to go.

@fyeahwonderbat