#what even is spn canon please?

[robbiethompsonlongcon]

so wait. i have questions.

if heaven connects the multiverse, what happens when multiple versions of the same person in multiple AU worlds die? do they all fuse into one entity in heaven? like, is the dean we saw in spnwin an amalgamation of every version of dean that has died and gone to heaven in every universe? what does that mean for a human soul, is each iteration of a human only a fragment of a soul? a clone? or are they individuals? do they all have separate heavens next to one another but fully inaccessible? or can you go next door and hang out with your alternate universe selves? that would be pretty disconcerting..

WAIT NO. no, that cant be right. as cool as i think it is, its not right. obviously there are multiple iterations of heaven, considering that there are multiple iterations of the angels. and it's clearly a Thing that alternate universe heavens aren't supposed to be connected, bc the AU iterations of the angels couldn't just walk through some already-established rift in heaven, otherwise the entire apocalypse world plotline would be completely moot. like, apocalypse michael could have just walked into prime universe through the rift. so how are these situated? is heaven like, partitioned out like this?

(please excuse the utterly shit quality, im drawing with my finger on a cracked phone and im bad at it)

so we have the garden which connects all the heavens, and then heaven prime partitioned off from heaven alpha, beta etc, each one then linked to their respective actual living universe? or is it more like garden -> heaven -> earth, but like sheets of paper all stacked up on top of one another in "the world between worlds" voidspace? how does that work metaphysically.

since theres au heavens and au hells, are there au versions of purgatory, or do all worlds dump all their monsters into the same purgatory? what about the empty? is every version of Cas that died in every alternate universe just piled up in the one singular empty?

(if i was a fic writer, this is where i would write about an empty rescue where dean has to wade through a sea of AU cas. i would also write a self indulgent fic where the benny we are told died in prime universe was not actually benny prime. but i am not a fic writer.)

if there are multiple empties, are there multiple shadows? or just the one, existing in every dimension in the same way that chuck is implied to? did god decide to be chuck in every universe, or are there universes where chuck was "just" a prophet? that would make endverse being a real alternate universe clash a little less w the final seasons.

except there's still the problem of, how could zachariah the middle management sub-choir angel (principality?? seraph?? power?? what choir is zachariah. this is so off topic.) open a portal to an alternate universe but not either of the two most powerful archangels? ive seen great theories about angels being specialists in different areas, e.g uriel smiting towns and cas taking memories (im so fucking sorry i dont remember who posted that, its so good im so sorry) but even so, why didn't apocalypse zachy just open the prime universe for apocalypse michael once he set his sights on it? so im still thinking endverse was a pocket/illusion dimension.

and when prime universe tfw released the darkness, did amara get born in every universe or just the prime one? was she still locked in the mark in other universes? if she's the same.. uhh.. species as god, and his equal, shouldnt she be just as omnipresent in the multiverse? or does that mean each universe has its own iteration of god? or would that mean he created himself? ow. paradox migraine. if prime chuck created every other chuck, then every other iteration is just a facsimile and not truly chuck. and if that's true, did they even really beat chuck by beating him in only one iteration? or can AU chuck just open a portal and idk re-grant himself godpowers? what about AU jacks, are they still nephilim? or did every version of jack become god when prime jack did?

on that note, when chuck started to destroy the multiverse, what happened to amara in those iterations and also in general? was she captive in every universe as long as she was captive in the prime universe? is she even really gods sister, or did he create her for Plot Reasons? bc in other universes, dean still had the mark. or cas had the mark. or cain kept the mark. but amara got free in, and was, as far as i remember, only a threat to, the prime universe.

and how did dean get the letter for john from henry? even if henry gave it to dean in As Time Goes By, i doubt dean carried that particular letter on his person when he died. it could be a heaven thing? anything you want, you just wish for it and you have it kind of thing. but also how did dean get bobby? obviously he went back to the roadhouse at some point? unless the point is that heaven is still an illusion since Somethings Up With Jack, and dean did the same thing with the letter, and just *wished* for bobby who popped up in the car. cause that certainly doesn't seem like a good and equal heaven, if you can just wish someone was with you and poof! they will be summoned to your side without their consent. which would mean that's Not Bobby, it's an illusion. it was never actually bobby.

so did dean even actually make it to another universe? or is he trapped in an illusion and the whole thing was a distraction, which is why jack said no meddling and then proceeded to let dean meddle in the most timeline-destabilizing ways possible, giving his parents the colt and his journal, telling them god exists and is a dick? because it doesn't matter, it never mattered because none of it was real?

im gonna rip out my hair what is this. jensen. JENSEN. what is this. i need to think.

[rosewheresheshouldntbe]

> Rose: Confess to Kanaya!

Rose: I love you.

Kanaya: Y Yo Ati, Rose.

> Rose: Get swallowed by something that looks like Venom.

> Rose: Get sent to super hell!

> Kanaya: Have something very gay and homophobic happen to you.

Kanaya: ...

What an absolute diversity loss. You find yourself thinking "love loses!"

[monsterfuckermilligan]

i still cannot comprehend how u guys will write or draw or rb something of jack where he is present as a full grown adult and then call him a precious child….

[cowboyhorsegirl]

5X09???????????

[jerksbitch]

Wincest or destiel

LOLLLL ur so silly <3

wincest . Period. destiel is a fine ship & i can understand why ppl choose that path. but unfortunately: the shippers. they ruined it for me long ago. they hate TOO hard & the fact that it’s directed towards sam most of the time is extremely cringe . and learning that many of them haven’t even seen s1-3 makes me feel sick like PLSSSS watch a different show……

[dotthings]

An outline summary of how Jensen has let out bits of Dean pov about the confession a little bit at a time.

He has chosen his words carefully for a reason. He threads the needle carefully for a reason. Let it unfold, it's not done yet.

In 2021 (dencon), Jensen spoke to Dean's confusion. He said he never played Dean knowing Cas was in love with him, which is true. That's canon. Dean didn't know even if Jensen did for months ahead of time. Jensen had to play it that way, because that's the story, that Dean didn't know how loved he is by Cas. By how he was loved. Jensen in 2021 spoke Dean's pov that because Cas is an angel, it's hard for Dean to grasp the nature of that love, that it's too much (Dean thinks) for a human to grasp, angels are cosmic beings, it's ineffable love (put this with Ben Edlund's recent tweets about "transcendental love") and it's hard to define, Dean doesn't know how to define it. In the "open to interpretation" era. (Which is now defunct, from Cas's pov. In late 2020/early 2021, Cas's confession was still being held in a cushioning of open to interpretation, there are, again, reasons for that).

In 2022 (Vancon), Jensen spoke more deeply about Dean's feelings and realizations Dean (and Jensen) had while sitting on the floor sobbing after Cas was taken. Jensen spoke of Dean's regrets and Dean wanted to say I love you too and hug Cas and about two sentient beings connecting, brothers-in-arms, Dean losing someone he loves very much. In the moment Cas was taken. And now it's even more clear, what Jensen's words at that time hinted at, that while Dean's on the floor sobbing he also had a realization about how Cas loves him and how deeply.

In 2023 (Jib 11), Jensen said the Dean and Cas reunion would be a big embrace and they'd talk about that goodbye, and maybe we'd get to see that. (more on that below).

In 2024 (Purcon 8), Jensen just said Cas's confession being romantic isn't subtext, it's text and that because Dean already had his realization that Cas is in love with him and Dean got past the confusion and "but Cas is an angel and I am a human so I can't possibly grasp that love). Dean knows. And how Dean and Cas don't need to talk about Cas's side of it. That there's an understanding between them and "they found each other." Dean knows, Dean is accepting.

So, in that moment Dean was sobbing on the floor in the bunker, Dean got hit by a freight train of realizations. Jensen is still threading the needle carefully, saying nothing too definitive or in full about Dean's feelings, beyond he reiterates Dean cares deeply for Cas. He says nothing about the reciprocation follow up. Just that there is no need for Cas to explain anything to Dean. Therefore, the confession won't be addressed. The confession itself. Because it's clear. It's known.

This timeline isn't "Jensen's evolving pov" please note. This is Jensen who has known all this about Dean, about Cas, for quite a while now, he's been opening things up in terms of how he talks about it a little at a time for public ear. Please remember all the things in play here and Jensen is the spn boss and the fraught history for the ship and how the TV industry functions.

Let it play out. It's not done yet, either in story, or in how it's going to be spoken about. Let it play out.

[kittenofdoomage]

The Midnight Diner

THIS WORK IS ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST OR COPY MY STORIES. 18+ CONTENT AHEAD.

Summary: An unexpected rescue leads to an unbelievable revelation, and these two hotties being vampires is just the tip of the iceberg.

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader x Sam Winchester

Word Count: 8371

Warnings: alternate universe, threat/injury to reader, character death, attempted assault, gun violence, vampires (not SPN canon-typical vampires, I prefer the Vampire Diaries type), blood drinking, biting/marking, smut (full penetrative sex, spit roast, threesome, oral sex, fingering), fluff, angst, plot twists

Friday night was always busy at the Midnight Diner, which only closed two days a year; Easter and Christmas. It was a surprisingly successful business despite not offering delivery in a world where everyone wanted Ubereats right to their front door, and though it wasn’t where you had imagined your life would lead, you couldn’t complain too much. Okay, you would never be buying your own home, but you made enough to feed yourself and pay your share of the bills, and your boss was a rare good egg. You liked the night shift too, even the slow ones, because the regulars, and even the irregulars, were great inspiration for your real passion.

And Friday nights provided the most entertainment when the various nightclubs in the district spilled out, bringing the hungry drunks to the door. For two hours, you would be too busy to stop for so much as a drink, but it was worth it when it quietened down and your tip jar was full to bursting. Drunk people were apparently generous when someone was serving up a triple bacon sandwich with extra cheese at two AM.

The crowd was all but gone by three, leaving a few lonely souls and regulars behind. You always counted regulars as the ones that were there before you were, but there were a few faces that had become familiar in more recent months. Dean and Sam were two of them, brothers who only came in when all the revelers were gone; they were both tall, handsome, even if there was something odd about them you couldn’t put your finger on. Whatever it was wasn’t enough to stop you flirting, not even enough to hold back the crush you had on both of them.

“Good evening, sweetheart,” Dean crooned as he swept in through the door, Sam hot on his heels.

“Good morning,” you chuckled, gesturing to the clock. “Coffee?”

“You got it,” he grinned before turning his attention to the counter display, humming at the pies. “And a slice of the cherry pie,” he added, rubbing his hands together.

You jotted down the order, and the brothers wandered away to their usual table. It didn’t take more than a few moments to make the coffees, and you swiped the best looking slice of the cherry pie, sliding it onto a plate before carrying everything over to their table. “Busy night?” you asked.

Sam smirked, and Dean laughed under his breath. “Yeah, you know,” he shrugged, “work.”

With a friendly smile, you nodded your understanding. “Lemme know if you need anything else.”

Returning to the counter, you got comfortable in your seat, pulling out your sketchpad. Hugo - the cook - was out on a break, probably sneaking a joint at the back door, and all six patrons had their orders, leaving you with a few moments to yourself. Ordinarily, you preferred working on your iPad, but you hated taking it out with you, so at work, you settled for pen and paper, practicing anatomy and poses instead of working on any commissions you had outstanding.

“What are you working on?”

Dean’s voice made you jerk your head up in surprise, and you pulled the pencil away from the paper. “Oh,” you whispered, “uh, I was just practicing...” Showing your work to others had always been awkward for you; you had no problem posting them anonymously on your blog, but whenever someone asked to see your drawings in real life, you felt they were never good enough.

“Wow,” Dean murmured as he gazed at the simple drawing. “You’re really good.”

“Thanks,” you replied clumsily, avoiding his gaze as your face burned. “Did you need something?”

His eyes lifted to fix on you. “Sugar,” he chuckled, holding up the empty container from their table. “This one’s out, and I think someone stole all the others.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “Not again. I’ll get some more and bring it over.”

Taking the container from him, you strolled through to the back, refilling it quickly. Hugo reappeared, raising an eyebrow at what you were doing. “I thought you did that last night,” he commented.

“Someone’s stolen them again,” you grumble, screwing the lid back on. “Do you remember where Oscar put the new box?”

Hugo shook his head. “Don’t worry about it,” he sighed. “I’ll get Denise to do it in the morning.”

His suggestion was gratefully received, seeing as you didn’t really relish the thought of spending the last two hours of your shift replacing them all. Saturday morning was quiet, Denise could handle the task when she arrived.

Running the sugar back to the brothers’ table, you handed it to Dean, who gave you a dazzling smile. “Thanks, darling.”

He’d never called you that before. You smiled back, then returned to the counter, feeling a little bit like a schoolgirl with a crush as you resumed your position at the till. An hour later and the brothers were leaving, both of them giving you a lingering hungry look as they walked out, the sort that sent a shiver running down your spine and inspired a few explicit imaginings.

It was hard to think of much else for the rest of your shift. 

Time crawled by until five, when Denise arrived and you could finally get home. Outside was still dark, marginally chilly, so you wrapped your coat around yourself and clutched your bag against your body, hurrying along each block as the sky began to lighten. You lived on the other side of the neighborhood, and the quickest route home was through an wide alleyway that stretched behind some warehouses, a passage you’d taken many times before.

On this occasion, it was not empty. You made it halfway before you noticed them, lounging in the large doorway of a warehouse, five men passing a joint between themselves. Keeping your head down, you kept walking, hopeful that they were just hanging out and not looking for any trouble.

“Not even a smile, honey?” one of them jeered.

You ignored it, continuing on, hurrying just a little more.

Two of them got up, moving to block your path. Panic set in, and you came to a stop, turning instantly to go back the way you’d come, but the other three were already up, preventing your escape. “Don’t be shy, baby,” the one who’d spoken laughed as he got a little closer. He reached out, and you dodged his touch, only to back up into one of his friends who grabbed ahold of your arms.

You struggled, kicking furiously at the one coming at you from the front. “Let me go!” you shrieked, fighting him when he caught hold of your face with one large hand. He smirked, so you spat in his face, receiving a hard blow to the jaw for your effort. The impact left you dazed, and the man holding you let go, pushing you to the floor. Your head connected with the concrete painfully; you whimpered, feeling something trickle down your forehead as the men surrounded you, closing your eyes as if that could make them go away.

“Hey!”

The shout preceded a loud thud, then more yelling followed. You remained frozen, bringing your arms up to shelter your head from whatever was happening, trying to fight the urge to pass out as dizziness and nausea overwhelmed you.

Everything stopped. Silence surrounded you, interrupted by distant traffic, and an odd gurgling sound that enticed you from the fetal position and onto your knees. You forced yourself upright, swaying slightly, throwing an arm out to try and gain some equilibrium as you opened your eyes.

Your attackers were scattered around. One was crumpled against a dumpster, another was bent awkwardly over the steps they were originally lounging on. Another one was only a few feet away, splayed across the floor, neck bloodied and eyes open in a lifeless stare. You lifted your head a little more, finally seeing who or what had saved you.

Sam had one of the last two on his knees as he tore at his throat, drinking greedily from the crimson that spilled out. Next to him was the last of your attackers, in Dean’s grip, dangling several inches off of the floor as Dean fed on him. A tiny gasp escaped you, and Sam’s eyes snapped open, deep black fading to hazel as he released the dead man to slump on the floor.

Whatever reaction you could have had to the scene was scrambled by the dizziness swamping you. Your knees trembled, and you felt yourself falling again, only to be caught by Sam, who had moved impossibly fast, cushioning your descent with his strong arms. You fought to keep your eyes open as he grasped your face, and the last thought you had before everything went black, was that maybe they’d kill you too.

The room that greeted you when you opened your eyes again was not familiar. It was dimly lit by several wall sconces, and the bed you were resting on was comfortable, so you didn’t move for a few seconds as you tried to recall what had happened. You were still dressed in the black shirt and pants you had worn to work, though your coat appeared to be hanging neatly on a hook across the room. The collar of your shirt was stiff with something, and that was when the memory of hitting your head came back to you, swiftly followed by the five possibly dead men, and your handsome diner regulars that had dispatched them by -

It wasn’t real.

Was it?

You sat up, just as Sam appeared silently in the doorway, making you jump. He smiled sheepishly, remaining where he was, obviously nervous of how you might react. “You’re awake,” he announced a little lamely. “How’s your head?”

Reaching up with your hand, you felt the raised wound. It was only an inch or so long, tender but not sore. “I-it’s okay,” you managed, eyeing him warily. “Those men -”

He straightened and cut you off. “Yeah, uh,” he scratched the back of his head with a light chuckle, “we can explain all of that, if you wanna…” His thumb jerked behind him, so you assumed he wanted you to follow him. Slowly, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, feeling a little sluggish as you got to your feet. “Are you okay?” he asked, watching as you tested your own balance.

“I think so,” you mumbled, touching the injury to your head again.

“Just take it slow,” he instructed with concern in his voice. “You might have a concussion.”

His worry over your injury went some way to assuring you that he wasn’t going to eat you, otherwise you would have still been in that alleyway, and your curiosity overrode any fear you held. You followed him out of the bedroom and into the hall, noting the lack of windows. “Who lives here?” you asked nervously, suddenly a little worried they had done the same thing to the occupants as they had to the men who attacked you.

Sam glanced back with a furrowed brow. “We do?” he answered with an inflection. “Uh, it’s a basement apartment, if you’re wondering about the windows.”

Your face filled with heat. “Oh.”

He smirked, leading you on into a large kitchen where Dean was lounging against a counter, and he looked up from his phone as his brother entered with you behind. “Hey,” he greeted with a smile, “how are you feeling?”

“Fine, I guess,” you mumbled, smiling politely when Sam pulled out a chair at the table for you to sit down.

“Coffee?” Dean offered, and you nodded, clasping your hands together on top of the table. There was a patch of gravel rash across your fingers, probably from where you had fallen. “I can order breakfast if you’re hungry.”

You weren’t sure hunger was on your list of priorities. “Uh, no, I - I don’t even know what the time is.” Your phone suddenly appeared in front of you, and you blinked up at Sam, who smiled and withdrew to sit on the opposite side of the table. “T-thank you,” you whispered, picking it up. The only notification was an email informing you that your phone bill was due soon; you weren’t entirely surprised that your roommate failed to notice your lack of return. It was nearly midday, so you’d been out for a few hours, and apparently in the possession of vampires.

The phone clattered to the table as everything began to sink in, and the noise made both men look in your direction. Dean jerked his head at Sam, making a gesture to indicate he should talk, but you were pressing your palms into your eyes, trying not to see the bodies.

“Can I, uh, can we explain?” Sam asked gently.

You lifted your head to look at him, suddenly unable to summon a single emotion. “About the vampire thing or the five dead guys from the alley?” you choked out, following it up with a burst of laughter. “Or maybe I was hallucinating, ‘cause of the head injury. Because vampires aren’t real.”

“We’re pretty damn real, sweetheart,” Dean deadpanned, turning his back on you to make coffee.

“What Dean means -” Sam clarified, raising a finger. “Yes, we’re vampires. And yes, we killed those guys. Because if we didn’t, the things they planned to do to you would have happened to someone else.”

Your jaw dropped. “T-the things they -” You shook your head. “How could you know -”

“They weren’t good people,” Sam continued. “You know that.”

“What about the police?” you snapped. “They’re gonna find the bodies, they’re gonna -”

“Uh-huh,” Dean provided. “And it’ll be another unsolved crime in the city. They tend to overlook cases with extreme blood loss because they know guns don’t work on us.” He picked up the coffee he’d made, bringing it over to you and placing it on the table with a smirk. “Kinda funny that I’m serving you coffee now, huh?”

You failed to see any humor in the situation, though you took the drink gratefully. It was made exactly how you liked it, information you didn’t recall sharing with them, but when you looked at Dean, he only smiled a little more, taking a seat at the head of the table. 

“Are you guys actually brothers?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at them both.

“If we weren’t, I wouldn’t have put up with him for this long,” Sam grumbled, and Dean promptly kicked him underneath the table which was all the proof you needed that they were siblings. “I get this is a little weird, Y/N -”

“A little?” you squeaked. “A little?”

“Okay, a lot,” he amended sheepishly.

“You killed five guys in under a minute, drank their blood, and then kidnapped me.” Something occurred to you and your eyes widened. “How did you even know I was in that alley?”

Dean folded his arms across his chest, smirking irritatingly at his brother as the taller man fumbled his words. “Well, we, uh, I mean, we -”

“What Sammy is trying to articulate,” Dean interrupted, “is that we’ve been watching over you for a while.”

You scrunched up your face, uncertain how to take the confession. “Watching over me?”

Sam shot his brother a glare before his features softened and his gaze returned to you. He sighed, leaning heavily on the table. “We’ve been alive a long time, Y/N,” he said softly. “Even with each other, it gets lonely.”

“I don’t see what that has to do with me,” you breathed, even if your mind was provided several ways that had something to do with you.

“It has everything to do with you,” Dean muttered, sitting forward with one hand on the table, the other on his knee. “We always talked about it, and then we came here. The second I saw you in that diner, I - we both knew. You’re… you’re special.”

You shook your head slowly, uncertain what special meant to them. Sam grimaced, huffing lightly. “Neither of us knew how to approach you,” he confessed quietly, “so we just kept going to the diner, kept getting to know you, and in the meantime, we kept you safe. Honestly, we never had to intervene until last night, and then…”

“We couldn’t leave you there to explain five dead bodies to the cops,” Dean finished.

That made sense, at the very least. You didn’t relish the thought of hours being grilled by the police when all the answers you had would probably lead to a psychiatric hold. “Okay,” you muttered. “So, say this is all real, and not some concussion-based fever dream - why am I special?”

They looked at each other, like they were holding a silent conversation. You sat back, folding your arms across your chest, watching them expectantly. The seconds ticked past and neither of them spoke, giving rise to a ball of frustration in your throat.

Dean clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and rolled his eyes. “You’re ours,” he stated firmly as Sam grunted his name in disagreement, earning himself a sharp look from his brother. “We said we’d tell her the truth, Sam, I’m just ripping the bandaid off.” His attention turned back to you, cutting off your confused questions before the first one could even make it out of your mouth. “Me and Sam, we’re not, uh, typical of vampires. Most vampires have a kindred spirit, someone who belongs to them, who they belong to.”

“Like soulmates?” you asked curiously, glancing between him and Sam.

Sam smirked, and Dean chuckled. “Something like that,” he agreed. “Except for us? That someone is just one person.” His eyes locked on yours, and a new, strange feeling slithered down your spine. “You.”

Your heart felt like it was pounding with the weight of his gaze. “How… how do you know that it’s me?”

“We just know,” Sam murmured solemnly.

“Like you knew those men would hurt me?” you whispered, letting your hands fall into your lap. “I’m really not dreaming, am I?”

Dean shook his head. “We’re not monsters, Y/N,” he said softly.

The recollection of the dead men made your stomach twist. “But you’ve killed people.”

“Not monsters,” Sam repeated. “But we are predators. Humans are our prey, we can’t survive without blood. Most of the time, it’s catch and release. They never remember a thing.”

You knew his justification didn’t make it right. Despite what those men had done, what they could have done, the guilt of their death was a weighted burden on your soul. “Do you…” Your lips were too dry, so you wet them, attempting your question again. “Do you feel bad about it?”

“About them?” Sam clarified, and you nodded. “No.”

“Others, yes,” Dean added cautiously. “We weren’t always as restrained, or as careful.”

At least they were honest about it, you mused, looking down at your hands, rubbing your thumb over the patch of damaged skin. “So what do you want from me?” you asked, lifting your eyes to them again. “If I’m… special. What does that mean? Are you going to keep me here?”

“No,” Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “Whatever happens next is your choice.”

“What do you want though?” you pressed, leaning forward. “Am I supposed to… to become like you?”

They shared another look, another silent conversation. Dean spoke first, turning his green gaze on you with a flash of the same hunger he’d shown you the night before. “We both want that - eventually. But it has to be your choice.”

“And you don’t have to make it right away,” Sam continued on quickly, his tone stressing his point. “Right now, we just want you to get to know us.” He smiled, resting his elbows on the table. “We waited a long time to find you, and we can wait for however long as you need.”

You stared at him, wondering if he sounded so confident about it because he was right. There had been an attraction to both of them the minute they’d walked into the diner, and you’d spent too many hours thinking about them, even sketching them, to dismiss the idea of belonging to them easily. But it was still overwhelming, a little hard to digest when you’d spent your whole life being told the supernatural didn’t exist. 

“I think, uh, I think maybe I should go home,” you finally decided. “This is… a lot.”

Sam nodded, getting to his feet. “Of course,” he agreed with a smile. “Lemme get your coat.”

He disappeared, leaving you alone with Dean, who was still watching you, a thoughtful expression on his handsome face. You looked back at him nervously, unused to being under such scrutiny - the only person who’d ever told you that you were special was your grandmother, and she was gone now, along with the rest of your family. The idea of being important to someone was a far off memory; you hadn’t had a boyfriend in three years, and you spent most of your time alone or at work. Picking up your coffee, you drained it despite the heat, putting the cup down as something occurred to you.

“How old are you?” you asked suddenly.

Dean blinked, then smiled. “I was thirty-two when I turned,” he replied. “In 1759.”

“Oh,” you gasped. “Wow. You’re -”

“Nearly three hundred,” he chuckled. “I know, I look great, right?”

The joke made you smile, and you ducked your head, feeling warmth in the tip of your ears. Sam returned, holding out your jacket and shoes as he placed your bag on the table. “We’re only a couple of blocks from your apartment,” he murmured. “I can call a cab if you like or -”

“I wanna ask how you know where I live,” you replied warily. “And how Dean knew exactly how I take my coffee.” You sighed, taking your shoes to drop them on the floor. “But I’m getting a headache so…” Fixing a smile on your face, you slipped your shoes on. “I can walk. It’s not raining or anything, right?”

“Nope,” Dean grumbled. “It’s a really nice sunny day.”

The penny dropped. “Right,” you breathed. “Because sunlight -”

“Does absolutely nothing,” Sam finished with a laugh. “There’s a lot of old wives tales that some authors like to spin.”

Your smile tightened. “Information for another time.”

“Yeah,” he said, stepping back when you rose to put your jacket on. “Maybe take some Tylenol for your head,” he suggested. “I put our numbers in your phone.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, sliding your phone into your bag. “I’m gonna go sleep this headache off and, uh, I’ll text, or something. Or you can text. I’m -” You sighed, dropping your shoulders. “I’m gonna go…”

Dean didn’t follow as Sam led you to the front door, which opened up to a set of stone steps directly onto the street. You recognized where you were as soon as you stepped out, and you turned to look back at Sam, realizing you hadn’t thanked them for saving you.

“Listen, I wanna -” Pausing, you clung to your bag, and he waited, giving you time to answer. “Thank you for saving me. I… I know I’d probably be dead or worse right now if -” The words trailed off, and you sighed, shaking your head. “Thank you.”

He watched you for a moment, then he smiled gently, bowing his head for a brief second. “Go get some rest,” he urged. “We’ll talk soon.”

It took all of twelve hours for your curiosity to get the better of you, and while a part of you thought there might be something otherworldly drawing you towards the brothers, you didn’t decline when Dean asked if you wanted to spend the evening with them. You weren’t sure what to expect when you returned to their strange underground home, so when you arrived to find they’d cooked dinner for you, you were pleasantly surprised.

The whole evening was bewildering. Just being around them put you at ease, and they answered every single one of your questions without hesitation, holding nothing back. They told you about their lives, before and after their turning, spinning one wild tale after another, with each brother often correcting the other when they didn’t recall things the same. You listened to everything they said, enjoying their company more as the evening progressed, eventually dozing off on their couch before they decided it was probably time you went home to your bed.

You returned the next night. When you had to go to work, you lamented not being able to see them, resorting to text messages that had you smiling to yourself behind the till. At the end of your Monday night shift, they appeared just as you were leaving, insistent on walking you home. They did the same the next morning, and the next, and it began to feel like a physical torment to separate yourself from them. Your next weekend off, you barely bothered to return home, finding better rest in their presence than you might have ever had in your life.

Every day, their belief that you were theirs seemed a little more true. You’d never been great at keeping relationships with people going, spending most of your time alone or in online communities. It had always been hard to form long lasting connections, something you’d always put down to your introverted nature, but with the brothers, it was like they drew out a person you’d never been before. They made you feel something new, something you didn’t want to let go of.

It was only natural when the relationship moved beyond just talk within a few weeks. You had stayed the night, or rather, the day after work, sharing a bed with both the brothers, and had woken up sandwiched between them. Vampires did sleep, albeit lightly, and they were surprisingly warm, though Sam had explained that they were only as warm as their surroundings. When Dean had stirred, face to face with you, the impulse to kiss him was too strong to ignore, and when he responded, it had escalated. Sam woke only seconds after, and soon you were dizzy and breathless from their attention.

As much as you wanted to take it further, you had to get to work. The whole night, you were antsy, glancing at the clock every five minutes and cursing the slowness of time. When the brothers arrived shortly before the end of your shift, you couldn’t keep the smile off of your face, even when Hugo teased you about it. Dean and Sam both waited patiently for you to finish up, ready to walk you home, but you stopped them just outside the diner, looking between them nervously.

“I don’t wanna go home,” you whispered shyly. “At least… not my home.”

They smirked at each other, and then Dean gestured down the sidewalk to a large black classic car. “Good thing I brought the car tonight,” he chuckled.

“Meet Dean’s pride and joy,” Sam sighed. “He’s talked about it enough.”

“Her,” Dean corrected. “Don’t bad mouth my Baby, Sammy.”

The car didn’t seem entirely practical, even if the leather upholstery was comfortable. You sat in the middle of the back, clutching the edge of the seat as Dean fired up the engine, obviously showing off just a little. “Humor him,” Sam laughed, and you gave a quick thumbs up of approval.

It was a quick drive back to their apartment, and you got more nervous the closer you got. If they noticed your apprehension, they didn’t draw attention to it, at least, not until you were inside, hovering anxiously in the lounge. Sam approached first, taking your hand to kiss your knuckles.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured, running his hand along your arm up to your shoulder before stopping to cradle your cheek. You leaned into it, smiling as you met his gaze.

“It’s… I’m out of practice,” you admitted, covering his hand with your own. “And there’s two of you. And you’re vampires. Makes me… nervous.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “We only bite if you ask nicely,” he joked.

The ferocity of your body’s reaction to that thought took you off guard. Arousal pounded between your thighs, and you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, unable to tear your gaze off of his. “I want it,” you whispered, moving closer to him. He groaned, leaning down to kiss you.

“Getting started without me?” Dean muttered in a good natured tone as he entered the room, loitering in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest.

You broke away from Sam sheepishly, and he stepped away, tugging you towards his brother. You followed, feeling your heart pound as they led you into the bedroom. Dean took Sam’s place and kissed you, guiding you down onto the bed. “I’m a little lost on the logistics,” you confessed quietly. “I’ve never - not with two -” You could feel a babble coming on, so you shut your mouth, hoping your inexperience wasn’t a problem.

Dean’s thumb swiped across your cheek before his fingers curled under your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes. “That’s pretty much the dealer's choice,” he murmured. “You being the dealer, darlin’.”

“Oh.” You inhaled sharply as Sam moved to sit on your other side. “I don’t - I don’t know.”

“Being naked is a good start,” Dean suggested lewdly, stripping his shirt over his head. For a second, you could only stare at his bare chest, feeling your mouth getting dry as your core started to throb. On your other side, Sam was now shirtless too, and you felt a little self-conscious in the low bedroom light.

Sam moved so quickly, you didn’t realize he’d done anything until the light went off and the dim lamps came on. You inhaled sharply, steeling yourself before unbuttoning your shirt, sliding it off shyly. As if sensing your apprehension, Dean pulled you into a kiss as Sam tugged your shirt off the rest of the way and tossed it, immediately putting his mouth on your bare shoulder.

“D-do we need anything?” you gasped as Dean’s fingers explored underneath your bra, pulling down the cups until he could thumb at your nipples. “Condoms?”

With a low chuckle, Sam shook his head. “No need,” he promised softly, letting his hand drop to the fastening of your pants.

You nodded listlessly, moving when Dean snapped the fastening on your bra to get rid of it entirely. He pushed you backwards until you were laying across the bed, laying beside you while Sam dragged your pants down your legs, leaving you in only your panties. They went next, sliding off under nimble fingers that returned to pry your knees apart, and you gasped when Sam’s lips brushed against your sensitive inner thigh. Before you could make a sound, Dean kissed you, thrusting his tongue against yours as his brother’s mouth descended on your cunt.

All your earlier nerves were all but obliterated, and when Dean turned his attention to your breasts, you could only just about remember to breathe. He sucked one hard nipple between his lips, and you thread your fingers through his short hair, moaning as Sam’s tongue teased your clit. It was deliriously pleasurable, but you wanted more, managing to whimper as Dean lifted his head to look at you. “Bite me,” you begged, watching the edges of his eyes begin to darken as his fangs descended.

He glanced at Sam, who only shrugged, intent on keeping up the torment on your clit. Your hips rocked against his touch, tightening your fingers in Dean’s hair.

“Please,” you whispered desperately.

Lowering his head again, he ran his tongue around your hardened peak, then lower, pressing his mouth to the swell of your breasts. There was a tiny prick of pain as his fangs pierced your skin, but the first slight pull on your blood had your eyes rolling back. Sam groaned as you shuddered, shifting to press two fingers against your entrance, sinking them in without stopping his assault on your clit.

You came within seconds, crying out with your fingers in Dean’s hair, writhing desperately as Sam pushed you higher. Dean groaned as he stopped feeding from you, dragging his tongue over the wound before lifting his head to crush his mouth against yours, cutting off your cries. The taste of your own blood invaded your mouth, startlingly not unpleasant, and when you nipped at Dean’s lip, he pulled back in surprise, a smile spreading across his lips.

Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment as Sam kept nuzzling into you, using his tongue in slow strokes right through your swollen lips. The bed shifted when Dean got up to remove the rest of his clothing, and when it dipped under his weight, you opened your eyes to his glorious nudity, and new desire pooled in your belly.

“C’mere,” he beckoned, moving up the bed to sit at the headboard. Lust drove your movements as Sam withdrew, and you heard him shedding his pants behind you as you crawled towards Dean, stopping short of straddling him as his cock caught your attention. His head thudded against the headboard when you dipped to lick at him, moaning when you wrapped your fingers around the shaft and squeezed.

The bed moved by your feet, and you glanced back to see Sam, now as naked as you and Dean. You couldn’t resist wiggling your rear in his direction, only for him to grab at it with one meaty hand, holding you in place as he positioned himself behind you. Dean’s cock twitched in your hand, and you turned your attention back to him, using your tongue to circle his tip while Sam ground his length against your bare cunt. You responded by pressing back into him, eager for him to fill you, but he resisted, continuing to tease you as you teased Dean.

Dean’s fingers tickled along the side of your head, encouraging you to take him into your mouth. He moaned decadently, and Sam chose that moment to thumb the tip of his generous cock into you, penetrating just enough for you to feel the stretch around his girth. You tried to focus, emitting muffled little whimpers as Sam rocked back and forth, filling you a little more at a time.

“Come on, Sammy,” Dean groaned, tightening his hold on your head. “Stop teasing her and give her what she wants.”

The other brother laughed under his breath, then thrust forward, burying every inch inside you. You felt like the air was punched from your lungs, so you lifted your head, keeping hold of Dean with one hand while you caught your breath, gasping loudly as pleasure buzzed outwards from where Sam was throbbing deep in your cunt. “Oh god,” you whined. “Fuck.”

It felt different than any other lover you’d had before. Maybe it was because Sam wasn’t quite as warm as you; the only warmth his skin held was what he leeched from you and the air around him. He was definitely bigger, thicker, pushing the limits of what you felt you could take.

Seconds ticked by, and Dean’s hips jerked slightly, reminding you of what you had been doing. Giving him a shy grin, you dragged your tongue up his length, then slid your lips over him; Sam started to move with shallow thrusts, holding your hips in place with ease. You lost yourself in both of them, moaning around Dean’s cock when Sam started to fuck you harder, and when a hand slipped underneath you, long fingers easily finding your clit, you responded by taking Dean deeper.

You’d never been so aroused in your life. Sucking cock had always been a favor, but somehow with them, you felt a desperate need to please, growing wetter with every impact of Sam’s hips against yours, with every twitch of Dean’s dick in your mouth. Your first climax shuddered through you, and they kept going, pushing you higher until you were almost dizzy with pleasure.

Sam’s enthusiasm grew when he felt your cunt squeeze him; he dragged you away from Dean and upright, holding you with one hand loosely around your throat. You gasped, looking at Dean as he watched, one hand wrapped around his dick, eyes heavy and hungry. 

“You want me to bite you too?” Sam grunted, right against your ear. All you could do was nod eagerly, still trembling from the orgasm he’d fucked you through. He growled, slamming into you harder until you were crying out, and with one last powerful thrust, he came, sinking his fangs into your throat as he filled you. Your eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, a low whimper falling from your lips when fresh pleasure blossomed in your gut.

He didn’t take too much, releasing you gently when he was done, and you dropped onto your hands, gasping as he withdrew. You couldn’t think through the flood of bliss in your veins, so when Dean pulled you towards him, you went willingly, straddling him as he lined up and tugged you down onto his cock. One hand held you down, full to the brim again, and the other cupped your breast, guiding your nipple to his mouth.

Instinct made you grind down onto him, and he growled, fucking up into you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, throwing your head back as he filled you over and over, riding the wave of ecstasy until you were trembling from head to toe. He didn’t stop until he was spilling into you, abandoning your breast to kiss you again. When he stilled, you felt like you were floating, and your whole body shook as you reluctantly lifted yourself off.

You landed on your back, gasping for breath as you came down from the high they’d driven you to. “Is it too soon to say I’m falling head over heels?” you laughed, feeling them press in close on either side of you.

“You know,” Dean mumbled against your bare shoulder, “when you’re like us, this will feel a million times more intense.”

You should have been perturbed at how comfortable you were with the idea of being like them when he mentioned it; you’d figured that eternity was their end game early on, but you had never imagined your own easy acceptance of it. The more you thought about it, the more you wanted it, and that alone should have frightened you. “It does?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Mmhmm,” Sam hummed, one hand sliding over your hip. “Everything’s more intense.”

By the time you pulled yourself away from their bed that evening, you’d all but decided you were done with the mortal coil. The brothers had been right about where you belonged, and more than that, you wanted it. Forever didn’t sound so scary if you got to spend it with them.

You felt like you were floating as you walked to work, replaying moments with them over and over, smiling to yourself. Hugo was the first to comment when you made it through the door at The Midnight Diner, but you were in too good a mood to let it bother you. Even folding napkins couldn’t dampen your spirit.

Usually, you would pride yourself on your ability to read a customer. You could tell if someone was trouble, yet when he first walked in, nervously requesting a coffee to go, you didn’t pick up on the weird vibes he was giving you. With a smile on your face, you prepared his drink and rang him up on the till, only to realize he’d covered his face, and he was now holding a gun. You threw your hands up, and another customer noticed the exchange, screeching when she saw the gun.

The man instantly turned his weapon to her. “No!” you cried, getting his attention back on you. “You want money, right?”

“Empty the drawer,” he snapped, fingers shaking on the pistol.

You hit the button, opening the till drawer, pulling out everything in there. He grabbed for it, needing only one hand, and it was obvious he was unhappy. “T-that’s everything,” you stuttered, feeling sweat bead on your forehead.

“You’re lying,” he growled, pocketing the seventy-five bucks. “You gotta have more.”

“It’s emptied every day,” you shrieked when he thrust the gun closer, finger on the trigger.

“Hey!” Hugo’s voice made you turn your head to where he was standing with his own weapon brandished. The man twitched, and time seemed to slow to a near-stop.

The sound of a gunshot made you jump, and you stared at the man in the balaclava as his jaw went slack, gaze dropping to the blood slowly soaking through your shirt. You looked down, moving one hand to press at the wound to your stomach, vaguely registering the gunman’s departure as your knees grew weak. “Shit,” you whispered, crumbling to the ground.

Hugo was beside you in an instant, uselessly padding the wound with napkins as he yelled for someone to call an ambulance. You stared at the ceiling, tasting blood on your tongue, wondering why it didn’t hurt more, and you drifted, struggling to keep your eyes open as the chef begged you to stay with him.

The paramedics arrived in what felt like a blink. They asked questions, and you tried to pay attention, but all you could think about was that maybe you should have said yes to Sam and Dean while you could. It felt like the end, your end, at the hands of a stranger with a gun, on the faded linoleum tiles of The Midnight Diner.

Somewhere, you registered the concern of the medics attending to you. They chattered quickly, mentioning blood loss, words that sounded important but held no meaning to you. “My phone,” you choked out, tasting more blood as you tried to move, and then the pain kicked in. “Sam -”

One of the paramedics pressed against your shoulder, keeping you flat. “You need me to call somebody, hon?”

All you could manage was a nod. Everything was getting dim, becoming too hard to focus, so you closed your eyes, letting the sounds fade too. For a moment, the world was still, and quiet, peaceful. Something beckoned to you to let go, like a tug on your soul, and for a moment, you thought about how easy it would be.

A soft beeping infiltrated the darkness. Heaviness filled you, and you realized it was your own body weighing you down. The cold floor you’d been on was gone, replaced by softness, and with a low groan, you opened your eyes to see a strange woman in a white coat standing over you. She smiled sadly, and you felt the whisper of a touch on your arm.

“She’s awake,” she murmured, looking away from you, prompting you to follow her line of sight with a turn of your head.

Sam and Dean were standing in the shadows of the small room. You felt a sweeping relief when you saw them, even if the expressions on their faces matched the same sadness the woman seemed to have. She spoke your name softly, making you look back at her, and you knew that whatever she had to say wasn’t good.

“I’m Doctor Freely. Do you remember what happened?” she asked.

The man in the diner. The gun. You remembered it all. “I was shot,” you rasped, feeling moisture in your eyes.

She nodded. “The bullet did a lot of damage,” she explained hesitantly. “We’ve tried to repair it but it hit your liver.” You frowned at her, and her smile became sympathetic, the pity in her words palpable. “We did everything we could. Your only hope is a transplant but -” The implication was clear as she trailed off, and you clenched your jaw, tears clinging to your lashes.

You were going to die.

“We’re doing everything we can to make you comfortable,” she whispered, obvious distress on her face, though you imagined you were not the first person she’d ever told they were going to die.

“How long?” you asked, throat clogging with emotion.

“Hours,” she replied. “Maybe days.”

You nodded, blinking away tears as you turned your head away and closed your eyes. The doctor sighed, glancing at Sam and Dean before retreating without another word, and before the door could click shut, they were at your side. “We shoulda been there,” Dean murmured, leaning over to kiss your forehead.

“You didn’t know,” you replied in a shaky voice, though you couldn’t open your eyes for fear that the tears would overwhelm you. The pain of your injury was beginning to push through the numb, heavy feeling; everything about your body felt wrong, which you guessed should be unsurprising if you were that badly hurt. “I don’t -” You swallowed, finally forcing yourself to look at them, and your fear was proved right when fat tears rolled down your cheeks. “I don’t wanna die.”

Sam’s hand cupped your jaw. You looked up at him as he wiped your tears away with his thumb, smiling at you softly. “I know you wanted to wait,” he murmured, “but I don’t think that’s an option anymore.”

“W-will it work?” you asked. “You said that sometimes -”

He cut you off by shaking his head. “You’re strong enough,” he assured you. “You fought your way back to us once already.”

Dean’s voice was low when he spoke, drawing your gaze to him. “Your heart stopped in the diner,” he explained, taking hold of your hand. You could see the moisture in his eyes, so you gripped his hand back, ignoring the discomfort of the IV underneath your skin. “If we do this, we don’t have much time.”

Hours, you thought to yourself. Before all this, you’d been planning for weeks, months, and now, the choice had been taken away. You were surprised you didn’t feel more grief for the life you were leaving behind. “Who’s gonna -” Kill me, you finished in a thought, knowing they would understand.

“We agreed it should be Sam,” Dean replied, sharing a look with his brother. 

You nodded. “What happens next?”

They had already told you how vampires were made - you had to drink their blood and then, essentially, die. “Your heart will stop and the venom will change you,” Sam explained softly. “You’ll be out for around twelve hours. And then you’ll wake up.”

“We’ll make sure we’re there,” Dean added, still clinging to your hand. “We won’t leave you.”

“And then everyone will assume I’m dead, right? I can’t -” You sighed, shaking your head. “I can’t ever see anyone I know again.”

Sam smiled sadly. “They’ll think you died from your injuries. We can get your stuff from your apartment, and then we’ll figure out what to do next.”

The pain was getting stronger. Your chest hurt, and breathing was making your whole body ache. “It hurts,” you murmured. The machines registering your heart rate started to beep faster, and the brothers looked up in alarm. “I don’t -”

Yanking the plug from the wall, Dean silenced the alarm before it could start. “Now, Sam,” he ordered. “We can’t wait.” He released your hand, moving towards the door to keep a look out as Sam cradled your face again, leaning in to kiss you softly.

“Don’t be frightened,” he soothed as you gasped for breath, nodding your consent. Your eyes filled with fresh tears as he bit into his wrist, sending crimson trickling over his pale skin, and when he offered the wound to you, you didn’t hesitate. His blood was cold, dribbling sluggishly into your throat until you couldn’t swallow anymore, and he pulled away, wiping away the stray droplets from your lips.

Just like in the diner, your vision began to gray and blur. Sam reached over to plug the machine back in, and instantly the monitors went wild. Dean opened the door, yelling for help, and Sam stepped back as medical staff flooded the room. Your eyes fluttered shut, and everything stopped as the machines let out one last long steady bleat.

One Week Later…

There was a vacant table in The Midnight Diner. In the middle, pushed up against the wall, was the last employee photo you had ever taken, surrounded by flowers and little notes from the regulars and other staff. You had read every single one as you stood on the other side of the road, giving one last goodbye to the life you were leaving behind. Dean and Sam had been sleeping when you left them, but they’d find you easily enough.

You’d never realized the need they felt for you was so deep, at least not until you’d woken up with the same insatiable pull, though it felt like something you couldn’t adequately put words to. It was a stronger sensation than anything you’d felt in your human life, giving you a deeper understanding of why they’d been so drawn to you.

“There you are,” Dean murmured, appearing in the shadows beside you. You smiled at him, then looked back at the diner, sighing softly as Sam appeared on your other side. “Are you ready?”

“I think so,” you replied, feeling a small measure of sadness for the person you’d been. You wished you could have told the ones who cared about you that you were okay, but it was far easier to disappear this way. There was a funeral with an empty casket to be held tomorrow - you weren’t sticking around for that weirdness.

They had closure, both with your burial, and the arrest of the man who had been responsible for shooting you. Dean had suggested finding him yourselves and dealing with it, but you didn’t feel any need for revenge when you’d been headed for this future one way or another.

Sam’s hand slipped into yours, dragging you out of your thoughts. “Where do you wanna go first?” he asked.

Your smile grew. “Anywhere,” you whispered, looking at him, then Dean, taking his hand too. “As long as it’s with you.”

THANK YOU FOR READING, PLEASE CONSIDER REBLOGGING SO OTHERS CAN ENJOY IT 😁

[soft-pine]

okay so @monstermoviedean is watching s14 rn and her takes are god tier!!! and you should all go read her blog please!

but it just makes me want to talk about lebanon/14.13 so much! like it really is one of my favorite episodes of spn. which is crazy i know because i truly hate john with every fiber of my being but i think this episode reveals so much about him & dean's relationship with him with delicious subtly!

and i've yapped at random on twitter about this but i want to gather all my thoughts in one place.

dean's relationship with john is The most important relationship in spn that i'm interested in unpacking. (i am normal and fine and this has nothing to do with my own issues)

i think for some people who understand john as abusive, it is frustrating and jarring to see him come back after so many years and just be kinda nice. especially given that dean has just finally started to talk to his family about some of the bad things john did.

i maintain that dean has been pretty clear with cas and like random strangers that his dad was shitty. but in 14.11, he tells mary the winchester surprise story. while he doesn't frame the story as truly a critique of john, it is a contrast to his quiet silence and pained expression after newly-resurrected mary says john was a good father in 12.02. in 14.12, dean opens up to sam about how when john was pissed off at dean, he would send him away. this is a stark new light on dean's comments from 7.14 where he apologizes to sam for sometimes "ditching him" when they were kids. sam quickly shuts down dean's apology in 14.12 and subsequent discussion about dean's regrets and feelings about john. but since sam's shift in his opinion about john in 2.02, dean pretty consistently keeps his criticism to himself in front of sam so this is a marked change. and the very next episode script draft includes the infamous "probably pulled the wide-eye hitchhiker routine. dad made me do it all the time on hunts. as bait." so, given the episodes and revelations that bookend 14.13, it's understandable how hard it is to see john and dean interact at all.

but i think it's perfect! because it so clearly shows every truth of their relationship.

firstly, we can look at who john apologizes to. in 1.16, 1.20, and 14.13 john is reunited with sam & dean after time apart. and in all three episodes, he apologizes and/or works to make amends with sam for their fractured relationship. in fact, in 14.13, it's a mention of the winchester surprise that triggers john's apology to sam.

in contrast, the only time john apologizes to dean for his childhood is 2.01 when he says sorry for making dean always have to look after him and sam. and then promptly asks him to kill sam if he has to.

it's crushing to me that at no point does john see the way he treated dean as anything to make amends for. instead, in 1.21 and 14.13, he frames dean not "having a home" or "having a family," "a normal life" as circumstances outside his control or as somehow dean's choice. and yet, john is entirely responsible. he is the one moving dean from school to school, getting him into credit card fraud, taking him on hunts. in 12.09 it's established that dean has as long arrest/warrant record which includes things we never see him getting arrested for in canonical spn. he is the one who always said hunting was temporary (6.02) and yet never allowed for a way out. so even though john's affect is kinder, we know he isn't meaningfully taking accountability for a huge amount of his actions.

it's the reason for the kinder affect we can look at next. because what is one of the most common indicators of abusive dynamics? treating people differently in public vs private. and critically for almost all of 14.13, mary is observing john. and we know that despite their marital problems (5.16), she considered him a good father. he doesn't know that the life he forced sam and dean into is the very worst thing she could have imagined for her children (4.03), but we can tell from his apologies to sam that john is at least aware of things he did which he regrets.

before mary arrives, he is giving sam and dean orders, "You boys better tell me what the hell is going on right now." i recognize he's very disoriented but this affect disappears entirely after mary shows up. i cannot overstate how much i love how not stern and harsh john is here because it shows that he could have always chosen to be like that. but there weren't negative consequences (a wife who might be angry with him) to face.

i've said before that i think one of the reasons that john kept sam & dean away from hunter gatherings and meeting other hunters (2.03, 12.06) is because hunters they met might have acted exactly how dean acts to krissy's dad in 7.11 and told him to quit. the hunters/community john did maintain relationships with were sometimes kinda shitty people - Deacon (2.19), Travis (4.04), Martin (8.09). not that Bobby, Caleb, Pastor Jim, Bill Harvell, Daniel Elkin were necessarily like that but I do think its worth looking at who John's friends who he didn't have a falling-out with were. Like Fred Jones who gave Sam & Dean their first beers when they weren't even 10 (8.08).

some other details about that first reunion kitchen conversation that always stick out to me are john finishing the drink dean pours for him while dean & sam barely touch theirs. it's also significant to me that dean tells mary in 12.01 that john died to save him. but here, he tells john that he died taking out yellow-eyes (which is literally not what happened. like specifically he died by making a deal with azazel). dean, always working to deescalate and maintain the peace, instantly clocks which thing they will each find more soothing to hear.

one thing that i see people often critique is the idea that john coming back is somehow the thing dean wished for the most. but what dean actually says is that this is something he's wanted since he was four years old. so it's really not about john back at all. john died when dean was 27. but mary died when dean was four. and that cause nearly every hard, traumatic, awful thing in dean's life. to some extent, i think it was about wanting john to have mary back. throughout dean's entire life, john used the loss of mary as an excuse for how he acted and what he made dean & sam do. so of course what dean wants most is... for that not to have happened.

and this brings my to my second favorite part of the episode. but you'll only catch if you're paying attention. dean says he's thrilled to have john back and yet at every chance he gets, he leaves the room john's in. he leaves the kitchen when john reunites with mary. dean gets the grocery list from mary while john has a tearful apology with sam. dean talks to john again only because he has to tell him about the pearl but then leaves to help cook. after dinner, he goes to do the dishes. dean really is not actually trying to spend time with john - even when they get a deadline for when their time with him is over, dean is not trying to make the most of it. and god i love him for that.

i sympathize with people who are frustrated to see dean fall back into the role of caretaker for john's emotions and wellbeing. and i agree but i appreciate that it is very clear that's what's happening. he's performing the role he's always been forced to perform. he may be more aware of it as a performance this time. he may be taking more steps to remove himself from having to interact with john. but i would almost feel worse if he wasn't getting john a drink, doing what he said, going on little errands, cooking, cleaning up. john says "You want to give your mom a hand?" and of course he goes.

i think dean always has held both deep hurt from and empathy for john and this episode is full of both of them. and while i think it's always hard to hear dean slip back into those moments of empathy (8.12 is always rough for me), it's so real that's where he would be sometimes. so much of being a child who's made responsible for your parent's emotions means that there is such a deep part of you that wants to protect them from harm.

i personally think the song "til it shines" by bob seger is an insane choice to play over their dinner scene. because, though that's not the part of the song that plays, the lines "Take the chip off of my shoulder. Smooth out all the lines. Take me out among the rustling pines, till it shines, ah, till it shines" always strike me as trying to see something through rose-tinted glasses in a way. or maybe acknowledging the performative, white-washing that's being done?

anyway, i understand why people want dean to have a cathartic yelling session with john. but honestly im not sure that would ever sit right with me. i think honestly 14.13 is kind of perfect. john comes back and it proves everything. john could always be kind (he took you to a freaking baseball game (4.19)). he could always apologize. he always did say he wanted the boys to get out of hunting but never even tried to make it happen.

and that brings me to my favorite part of the episode. my darling. my baby. my treasure. dean says, "i have a family." and what that means to him is his own. he gets to keep it. he gets to mean it without john's scrutiny. without him tearing it apart. the conversation sam & dean have over dishes is another deeply meaningful part. dean specifically rejects the idea of telling john the truth about any of it - even if it would change things. because he's good with who he is. "Cause our lives – they’re ours."

this matters so much to me because i don't think dean's healing can ever be contingent on john - not on his reaction, not on finally telling him the truth, not on john getting comeuppance for all the shit he did, not even on changing the past so john has more information because the critical thing that 14.13 and 4.19 show is that john literally did not do the best he could. so what could change that?

in the kitchen, dean tells sam that he blamed john for "the longest time". do you understand how much it means to me to hear him say that?! because i think of course blaming john is the first step! dean was hurt and he was angry about that and he should be!

but dean's healing can't just stop there. while i know there will be moments as he heals where he's angry with john again, the beautiful core of dean's healing i see in 14.13 is him being clear on where the boundary of him and his wants, goals, needs, and priorities are vs john's. i think a lot of dean's young relationship with john was him being forced to keep parts of himself (the parts that didn't like to hunt for example) secret out of shame and necessity. but here, i don't think dean is carrying that shame anymore. he is very clear on how what he wants from his life differs from what john would want but dean sticks to his own values. he has a family. he's good with who he is. it's just none of john's goddamn business.

anyway, as always mitski says it best....

plus we get two of THE MOST shots of dean's face of all time for me!!! like my god stabbing me would hurt less!!!

plus! PLUS!! CHERRY ON TOP!!! LOOK AT THESE NOOOOOODLES

in conclusion. your honor, i love her.

[wellofdean]

Sorry ,for me personally, it has to be out loud acknowledge to even remotely make up for how badly they treated fans over the years, the out loud queerbaiting in one breath and mocking in the next. The in text gay jokes, sexism and homophobia. The digs at their own fans.

They want the credit without having to do it. Again. They want the pat on the back they need to earn it this time.

Years of baiting for views and profit needs a payoff imo. Sorry people downplaying how important the canonization of this ship in particular is just hurts to see over and over. Stop letting them off the hook please. You deserve more. We all do.

It’s important. It does matter.

The cas/destiel hope baiting continued with the Winchesters and that’s why I’m at a put up or shut up moment with Jensen and the writers. He and Danneel kept the hype up every week that the show was airing all the while knowing cas doesn’t even get a name drop. He’s not even hinted at. Mary/john paralleled destiel so many times yet refused to call it want it was.

They could have shut it down week one, they interacted on tweeter a lot during airing and knew what fans thought there was going to be an acknowledgment or hint that never happened. They are smart people, they saw the speculation and hype but didn’t step in with a gentle ‘sorry guys this is about the new crew’ they fanned the hope instead with ‘something big happens’ that was just dean meeting the new team.

Loved the Winchesters as a show, sad it got dropped cause I loved the new cast so much. That said the baiting hurt and wasn’t necessary, the show was good.

Everyone is looking back with rose colored glasses and rewriting history. But things were ugly with the spn team/cast/writers at times. The homophobia was pretty out loud in a way it was allowed to be in the early 00s. They’ve grown and that’s wonderful but it still happened.

They need to earn the praise they want imo. No hate! Glad you are happy! just feels a little unfair to say we should all let them off the hook again and be happy with nothing while praising the benevolent straights. Just my two cents 😅💚💙

I want to answer this sympathetically, because I know it's disappointing that no one has been willing to just say "Dean and Cas are gay for each other" out loud, and I don't think there are many people in this fandom who picked up what the narrative was putting down, and were not disappointed in the finale for LOADS of reasons, only one of them being that Dean never had the chance to acknowledge what Cas said to him. I understand your feelings, my anonymous friend, I really do. I too found the end of Supernatural deeply frustrating, because they managed to erase the meaningful journeys of every single character, not just Dean, though what they did with Dean was the worst. I completely understand wanting them to JUST FUCKING SAY IT. I do. I get you. I simply do not agree.

My argument, which I have made many, many times, is that what you want is THERE in the narrative. They made Cas Dean's ride or die, they made it obvious that Dean can't carry on without Cas -- that the loss of Cas means Dean loses his will to live. That was explicit. They made it clear that more than anyone else, EVEN Sam, Cas is essential to him. They structured the narrative around Dean and Cas's emotional beats. They let Cas say the obvious thing out loud, and then showed us Dean behaving exactly as Dean would in a situation like that -- in the midst of his existential crisis about who he is and whether he has ever had free will, and with the world falling around them -- they showed us Dean unable to speak, unable to respond but overwhelmed with emotion. Like, remember that when Mary died when Dean was four, he was unable to speak? Is it really so hard to imagine that he loves Cas with all his heart? To read love in Dean's watery eyes, and the way he chokes down his heart and begs Cas not to do this? Not to being saying goodbye? I mean... I CAN DO THAT MATH. Literally everything about the story supports it. IT IS THERE.

Fandom always argues: if Cas were a woman, we wouldn't have any questions, so what I am just wondering is, why do we have questions again? Is it because we (homophobically) can't just see it for what it is because it's gay? Because, when it's gay we lose our ability to interpret narrative, and we need to be told, like we are 5 years old, what's happening in a perfectly obvious story? Or, is it a skill issue? Is it because we need the creators of the story to affirm our interpretation? We need the actors to just TELL US what they meant when they did that thing with their faces? Do we need their permission to understand it for what it is?

I've said many times that calling what happened on Supernatural 'queerbaiting' because no one ever made out or fucked on the maps table is really offensive to me actually. Don't you know that there are queer people in this world who never get to live their truths? Who just ache and yearn and want, and never get to have? Like, that there are in fact queer people who are afraid to say what they feel, or who don't understand or embrace who they really are and what they really need until it's too late? Are those not QUEER EXPERIENCES? I love Dean and I love that story because it's queer as hell and it makes ME feel seen, because I am like him! I am a queer person of his age who didn't ask myself those questions seriously enough in time! My own queerness is very fucking real, and it is UNLIVED. That HAPPENS to actual queer humans, and like, it's not queerbaiting when it's just queer, but didn't tell you the queer story YOU wanted it to tell. You saw years of tease? I saw years of choices, and love, and accretion of deep wells of emotion. I saw a clear romance, and a character becoming. It was a story I needed, AS A QUEER PERSON.

And the Winchesters was just joyful if you went in with that understanding of the previous story. It was like getting an A+ in Supernatural week after week from Dean himself. I can accept that the stars didn't align for Cas/Misha to come back in the first season, accept that if he were coming back, it needed to be more than a cameo to make it right, and that it didn't work out. I am so sad it was cancelled, but I can accept that it was leading someplace it didn't get to go. That's not queerbaiting, either! It's telling a story that was aborted, and I think if you don't see that, then that is DEFINITELY a skill issue.

I'm not looking back with rose coloured glasses; Supernatural is fresh in my mind. I watched it again without the internal pressure of expectations that aren't going to be met, and let it tell me what it was really doing all along. I am happy. It's a really compelling, deeply romantic, deeply queer story. I don't need permission from anyone involved to think that, and I don't need it explained to me. I understand wanting it to just be fully explicit, but I would not trade the story it did tell for a simpler, less engaging one, that asked less of me. I love it very much AS IT IS.

And, please: point me to this fabled abuse of fans. I have never really seen an example of it that is not easily debunked with a little bit of context.

[fivie]

I keep thinking about how well grantaire and anna would get along (before she gets re-brainwashed)... i know you've moved away from spn canon with UMW but do you have thoughts on how your characters would theoretically interact with spn characters?

ah yes, the re-brainwashing was very unfortunate 😔

my main headcanon re. UMW characters meeting SPN characters is that if Enjolras and Grantaire met Sam and Dean, based on Enjolras's personality and him having the sword, they would absolutely assume he was the angel of the pair 😂 Dean would probably commiserate with Grantaire about the challenges of hanging out with a socially challenged angel, and Grantaire would absolutely go along with it. Then Cas would show up and be like 'hello brother 😐' and spoil his fun.

I think Enjolras and Dean would butt heads, but Sam and Combeferre would probably get along quite well. I hope the spirit of Victor Hugo can't see me typing this.

Ages ago I actually started writing a little crossover story just for fun but I found it really weird 😂 I don't know if I'll ever write any more of it so I'll put what I have under a cut here if anyone wants to read it lol

(it is definitely not UMW canon 😂)

Grantaire is in a long-abandoned barn in rural Belgium, idly sweeping up the ashy remains of the shapeshifter that had been terrorising the nearby village in the guise of a local cryptid legend, when Combeferre pops into his mind with a bemusing prayer:

Don't come back to my apartment right now.

Grantaire pauses, awaiting further details. If Combeferre were in danger, he's sure he wouldn't bother beating around the bush, so Grantaire isn't overly worried, but Combeferre has never told him to stay away before and so he waits, curious. A minute or so later, an even more bemusing continuation:

Or if you do, make sure you come in through the front door like a human would.

Sometimes Grantaire desperately wishes that the prayer communication line went both ways. Combeferre feels distracted, like there are many other things demanding his attention and he is snatching at quiet moments to send Grantaire fragmented intel. Finally:

Other hunters here.

With that, the pieces slot together. Grantaire personally thinks it would be kind of funny for him to drop in on a room full of Musain hunters, especially the ones who'd written him off as a drunken waste of space years ago, and he could always erase their memories after if it was going to cause problems, but he supposes that Combeferre's solution of just keeping him away for a while is simpler. He finishes his clean up and is just about to return to Jehan's house when Combeferre reaches out again.

Could use your expertise for this. Come back if you're able? But please be discreet.

Grantaire snorts. He thinks he'll enjoy having a conversation with Combeferre later about why it's okay to pretend that he's human to other hunters, but not to Enjolras or Combeferre himself. He's well aware of the difference and the reasoning, of course, but he does like watching Combeferre wrestle with a moral quandary.

Enjolras is here, too.

This last part sounds like a warning, and Grantaire supposes it is, and one he should be thankful for. He braces himself before flying back to Combeferre's building, going up the stairs with pointed emphasis and hoping everyone in the apartment can hear his very normal, very human footsteps approaching. He opens the apartment door, calling out a greeting, and he steps inside and the world stops.

The other angel in Combeferre's living room stares at him, his human face registering only mild surprise even as his luminous true form roils and sparks in shock and alarm and, of course, horrifyingly, recognition. Grantaire stares back for a wild, world-tilting moment, and then he flies in a mad flurry, grabbing Enjolras and Combeferre and taking them to the furthest side of the room, pushing them behind him. Combeferre, who had just expressly told Grantaire to be on his best and most human behaviour, calls his name in confused dismay, and Enjolras is saying something too, demanding to know what he's doing, and there are two other humans here too, making their own noise, but then—

"Hello, brother," Castiel says, and all the humans in the room fall deathly silent.

Grantaire doesn't answer. His hand instinctively twitches to curl around the handle of a blade not currently in his possession. He can feel the presence of his sword burning in Enjolras's coat pocket and he wonders if the split second it would take for him to get to it will mean fiery death for all of them.

Three thousand years, he thinks. Three thousand years he successfully kept his head down, and then Combeferre goes and invites another angel into his living room—!

"Aw no, brother?" one of the new humans repeats. Grantaire doesn't dare take his eyes off Castiel, but the human sounds exasperated. He also sounds American, which raises many questions but also answers the one of why they are all here and not at the Musain. Grantaire can only imagine the Musain hunters' reaction to Americans descending upon their home base. "Cas, are you serious?"

"He's pretty clearly serious." The other human puts himself in Grantaire's line of vision, stepping between him and Castiel with one hand raised placatingly. He's uncommonly tall and more than broad enough in the shoulders to be considered physically imposing by human standards, but his posture and expression are currently extremely non-confrontational—he looks nervous, and sort of concerned. He looks at Grantaire first but then, clearly finding no invitation in his stony face, tilts his head to look past him at Enjolras and Combeferre instead. "So, uh. Got yourselves an angel."

"As do you, it would seem," Combeferre says with measured calm. It's strange to hear him speak English. Out of the corner of his eye, Grantaire sees him take half a step forward and hisses back at him, "Don't."

"Hey, who are you? Do we know you?" the first human says suddenly. "Are you an old douchebag in a new meat-suit?"

"Dean," Castiel says in quiet admonishment.

"What? It's not like we can tell."

"You don't know him," Castiel tells him before turning back to Grantaire. "This isn't necessary. I'm not going to harm you or these humans. You should calm yourself."

"And if you want to harm Cas then we're going to have a problem," the tall human says.

Grantaire makes no attempt to calm himself. "Are you alone?" he demands of Castiel, whose vessel affects a faintly puzzled expression.

"I'm here with Sam and Dean," he says slowly, and Grantaire scowls.

"I mean," he says, "where is your garrison?"

"I no longer serve Heaven, Rachmiel," Castiel says in oddly gentle tones, as if he's just realised why Grantaire would be so horrified to see him.

"Do not call me that," Grantaire snaps with a sharp shake of his head. "You—what do you mean?"

"I am...fallen." There's a strange mixture of pride and shame in Castiel's voice as he says it. "My loyalties were tested and I found them to lie more with humanity than with our brothers and sisters."

"You…" Grantaire's mind, emerging from the initial shock, starts to piece things together, starts to remember. "I saw you. Last year. You were killing angels and humans. Hundreds of them."

"Hey, that wasn't Cas," one of the humans, Dean, starts to protest, while Grantaire hears twin sharp intakes of breath from Combeferre and Enjolras as they apparently make the connection between the God-Monster they'd seen on screen all those months ago and the mild-mannered man standing before them now.

"Look, okay, let's...We didn't come here to fight," says the other human, whom Grantaire assumes, through elimination, to be Sam. "It's complicated, okay? But Castiel is with us. He's not the bad guy. He's saved our lives more times than I can count and—hell, he helped us stop the apocalypse."

"Did he say the apocalypse?" Grantaire hears Enjolras mutter behind him.

"What did you two have to do with the…?" Grantaire looks at the two strangers properly for the first time and feels a fresh wave of hysteria. There is a lot to be read from their souls that he will unpack later, but most pressingly, he can see who they are—what they are. "You're the vessels." His undoubtedly wild-eyed gaze swings back to Castiel. "You're walking around with Michael and Lucifer's vessels? You brought them here?"

"Michael and Lucifer are both in the cage," Castiel says. "I do not expect they will be coming looking for their vessels."

"And they already know that they do not have consent to take either of us for a ride," Dean says with a grimly sardonic smile.

Grantaire's head feels like it's going to explode, which wouldn't kill him but would undoubtedly be very distressing for Enjolras and Combeferre to witness. He wills his vessel to hold it together.

"Grantaire," Combeferre says quietly—even that makes him jump. Combeferre speaks to him in soft, rapid-fire French that the Americans clearly do not understand and that Castiel politely pretends not to hear. "If he's really broken with Heaven, isn't that a good thing? For you to not be the only one?"

Grantaire casts a somewhat tortured glance back at him, not anywhere near ready to accept the idea that running into anyone from his family could ever be good, before looking inevitably back to Castiel, unable to keep his eyes from returning to the perceived threat in the room.

"It is good to see you," Castiel says, horribly earnest. "I believed you dead."

"Yeah, that was the idea," Grantaire snaps. Castiel tilts his head to one side like a confused puppy, a crease appearing between his eyebrows.

"You've been in hiding," he hazards finally.

"Pretty successfully, up until now," Grantaire says.

"Hey, just like Gabriel," Dean remarks. "You gotta wonder how many other angels flew the coop."

"Gabriel," Combeferre repeats in tones of disbelief that match Grantaire's own feelings. "The archangel? He also…?"

"Gabriel is dead," Grantaire says bluntly.

"Yeah, but he had a good run hanging out down here pretending to be a trickster god," Dean says with a smile that suggests not-so-fond remembrance. "What've you been hiding out as? Some other deity?"

There's an agonising sort of pause, and then it's Enjolras who says, not without bitterness, "A human."

Dean whistles. "That's a bold choice."

"Rachmiel," Castiel says, and Grantaire wants to scream. "Heaven will not hear of any of this from me. You and your humans are safe. Please. I—Here."

He puts one hand up as if in surrender while his blade falls from the sleeve of his coat into his other hand. He holds it up, slowly and demonstratively, before setting it down on Combeferre's coffee table and stepping back.

There is a very strange, very awkward moment where Castiel and his two humans look at Grantaire expectantly, waiting for him to return the gesture and disarm. Finally, Enjolras steps forward. He catches Grantaire's eye questioningly and, at his nod, takes Grantaire's blade out of his own coat and lays it next to Castiel's. Dean and Sam's eyebrows shoot up and Castiel gives a slow, considered blink, but mercifully all three of them refrain from saying anything about the matter.

[cowboyhorsegirl]

Oh! So a little (heh) detail that I’ve learned as I’ve clearly watched spn then stopped and came back, the some of the early Fics I’ve linked (along with the show) describes Cas’ vessel as lean/thin/etc. Dean keeps descibijg him as a little nerdy guy and yeah Misha might be like 5’10 but Jackles is 6’1 and Jared is stupid tall and both are pretty buff.

So when Misha started he was skinnier then both of them, but during the 10 years of being on the show Jackles slims down in general, and Misha started to work out and while the show keeps him in a full suit and trench coat so it’s hard to tell but by the end of the show Misha’s buffer then Jensen and so in the newer fics Cas’ physique is described in detail lol. Lots of talk about Cas’ biceps stretching out the shirts he’s borrowed from Dean now haha.

(I didn’t know this about the actors so when I start reading post canon fic and it kept popping up in different fics from different authors so like I had to look into it)

(Also, fans of taste and culture will have Dean with a soft belly, because he deserves too have one, and especially as a a feature of him aging and nesting)

this is so interesting but i gotta say, the first thing i did upon reading was go confirm that jackles is 6'1"

[jjtheresidentbaby]

» spn agere week: day 2, little and their caregiver go on a long car drive - jan 30th

» for @spnagereweek event || on my ao3 | 1.7k+ wrd count

» little!sam & caregiver!dean

» warnings: pre canon, hurt/comfort, swearing

“It’s so cool Dean, c’mon admit it!” Sam swivels in his seat of the mini van Dean’s driving. They rented it for a bit while the Impala is in the shop, much to Dean’s dismay, and John’s out on a hunt a few states over so the trucks gone too.

“Okay you’re right, it’s kind of cool. Not as cool as Baby though.” Dean caves and smiles when Sam beams with a mutter about him being right like always. He sounds so happy, it’s a little strange for Dean if he’s honest, ever since Sam hit age sixteen he’s been a ball of angst and anger, but not today.

He’s acting like he would when he was younger- still in his fleece pajama pants because no matter what Dean said he wouldn’t change, giggling at Dean’s cheesy jokes, sitting cross legged in his seat, flipping through the cds that the car rental place left like they’re the most interesting thing in the world, pointing out different colored houses or animals they see as they drive- it’s like he’s eleven again. Dean has no idea why or what’s even going on but he likes seeing Sammy happy so he won’t bring it up.

“Hey they have Metallica!” The cd gets pulled out of the plastic sleeve in seconds and Sam leans to slide it into the radio.

“You don’t wanna listen to something else?” The look he gets in response is somewhere along the line of ‘why in the world would you ask that’ and ‘how dare you offend me like that’ which makes Dean snort. Usually Sam’s complaining left and right about only being able to listen to the tapes Dean and John have stockpiled in the Impala and truck.

“Can’t believe you just said that, who are you and what have you done with my big brother?” Sam teases and blushes with a laugh when Dean pushing his hand at the top of Sam’s head.

“Haha, okay smart guy what do you want for lunch?” Please don’t say salad, please don’t say salad. One more salad this week and Dean may lose his mind.

“Slushies!” Dean blinks once, twice, pulls up to a red light and turns to see if his brother is being serious. He is.

“Sammy that’s not lunch.” A frankly pitiful pout forms on Sam’s lips in seconds, big eyes blinking at Dean like he just told him his dog died.

“We can get them but we need real food too.” That thankfully seems to fix the issue as Dean knows from years of raising Sam that the expression he just had would eventually turn to tears if he’s not careful.

“Can we get mac and cheese?” God he really is like a little kid again. Something sour appears in the back of Dean’s throat, partly worried his brother might’ve gotten cursed or something, but more so concerned that something might’ve triggered this. They’ve been nonstop hunting for a while now and Sam’s even had to skip school which Dean knows he hates. Maybe the drastic change in routine has been messing with him more than he says? Maybe the horror of what they see is finally setting in and this is Sam’s way of getting away from it?

“Course bud.” He smiles and lets his hand rest in Sam’s hair when he pushes into Dean’s touch. He was reaching to ruffle his brother’s hair like when they were younger but Sam’s almost laid across the center of the van to stay touching Dean.

“Thanks De’.” And fuck- that nickname strikes something deep in Dean’s chest.

It’s been years since Sam’s used it, he was still shorter than Dean back then, still got excited when John would come home, still asked Dean a million lore questions he was too young to be asking, still wanted to sleep in Dean’s bed with excuses of it being cold but in reality the monsters outside scared him and he needed his big brother to protect him. He was so innocent back then, short years ago that feels like a lifetime.

-

“The drive through is too long so I’m just going to go in and grab the food.” Dean says as he pulls into the parking lot of the Wendy’s restaurant- it’s the only fast food place Dean knows has mac and cheese and isn’t a two hour drive outside of where they’re going.

“Wait you’re leaving?” A hand quickly wraps around Dean’s forearm before he can turn to climb out of the van. His brow furrows when he sees how upset Sam looks, bordering on looking- scared? What the hells he scared of? He was smiling five seconds ago, humming along to the radio louder than normal and bouncing in his seat a bit like he used to.

“Just to get some food, I’ll be back fifteen minutes tops.” None of it soothes Sam.

“You wanna come with me?” He gets a nod, though it’s hesitant.

Almost the second they step into the restaurant Sam’s hand reaches to grip Dean’s tight like a vice. He’s glued to his brothers side and would be hidden behind Dean’s frame if not for the added height Sam has, height he’s trying to hide in this moment as he shrinks down and curls up against Dean. It’s breaking Dean’s heart a little- there’s maybe five people in the restaurant and yet Sam seems terrified.

“You okay Sammy?” The few people in the place are eyeing them more obviously than appreciated- Dean isn’t sure if it’s the pajamas with the Iron Maiden shirt and converse Sam’s in, the way he’s tucked into Dean’s side, or just the fact that they look out of place in this small town in the middle of nowhere Maine.

“Mm.” Well that’s not good. Sam always got quiet when he was upset as a kid, only giving a hum or nod to questions asked, not caring if John had been pleading with him for an hour to talk or if Dean promised a trip to the movies to see whatever Sam wanted or even if Bobby gave him free range over his entire library. The kids a master at the silent game.

“What can I get for you two?” The voice of the woman behind the register startles Dean which in turn startles Sam twice as bad, he clings his free hand to the loose material of Dean’s t-shirt and stuffs his face into Dean’s shoulder.

All Dean can do is relay their order back to the woman- pointedly ignoring her concerned looks at Sam- and wrap an arm around Sam’s shoulders so he has an easier time tucking himself as small as he can into Dean’s chest. The food takes no time at all to be done and Dean gets Sam ushered out of there as quick as humanly possible without someone thinking he’s kidnapping him. The sigh of relief both boys let out once in the van again makes Dean feel uneasy- they shouldn’t be sighing like this over ordering fast food.

“You wanna go get those slushies now Sammy?” He reaches to place his hand in Sam’s hair again, rubbing his thumb at his brother’s forehead and watching with a slightly furrowed brow as Sam’s eyes flutter shut before back open again. It’s only one pm, they left at seven this morning which isn’t all that early on Winchester time, but maybe Sam’s been acting weird because he’s tired?

“Or maybe stop at a motel and sleep?” The plan was to drive for at least another eight or so hours before stopping to sleep, but the last thing Dean wants is for whatever’s going on with Sam to get worse. He could be feeling sick, it is freezing out and it’s not like they’re exactly up to date with their flu shots.

“Thought we had to meet dad?” Sam asks with a clumsy rub of his eyes that makes Dean give a faint smile. He’s the same little kid he’s always been.

“We’d have to drive back here for Baby anyways, we’re just saving a trip.” Assuming the Impala will be done by tomorrow morning when they go to leave again, Dean can hope, and hope that John doesn’t ask too many details on why Dean and Sam won’t be meeting him as early as they said they would. The hunt he’s on seems pretty nasty so Dean doubts he’ll be paying much to mind to what day the boys get there.

“M’kay.”

It takes all of twenty minutes for Dean to find and book a room at the nearest motel- years of hunting for them in the pitch black makes them pretty easy to spot in the daytime. Sam stays in the car as Dean gets the key and pays for the room- though Dean can feel how hard Sam’s staring at him through the window, he swears the nervous energy radiates far enough that it makes Dean’s spine shiver.

“You okay bud?” Dean says with half a laugh when Sam collapses onto his bed and instantly curls his arms around Dean’s middle with his head on Dean’s chest. There’s an empty queen bed two feet away- it was the same price as getting a single so he figured Sam would appreciate the bed to himself. Apparently he was wrong.

“You’re not goin’ anywhere right?” His face falls hearing Sam’s voice come out so small, nearly whispering as he tightens his hold around Dean.

“Course not. I’m always right here Sammy.” That’s all it takes for Sam to let his eyes slip shut.

Dean can’t even think about going to sleep- too overwhelmed with worry- so he does what he did when Sam was little and starts to rub his hand up and down Sam’s back, counting the breaths he takes with each stroke of his fingers against Sam’s spine. He really hopes Sam’s acting a little more normal when he wakes up but just incase Dean makes a plan for if he’s not, going over the basic steps he used to do to make sure Sam stayed happy when he was a little kid, reminding himself of the habits Sam hasn’t shown in years but may revert back to. If Sam needs him to take care of him like he used to then Dean is going to make sure he does it right.

[dotthings]

Some tea from Richard Speight, Jr. about filming Cas’s testament scene has surfaced from DLC6. [x]

nothing cut from script to screen but they added things, such as Cas having to paint the sigil on the door and leaving the bloody hand print on Dean’s shoulder [my note: wbk about the additions during filming. There's still the matter of the spanish dub because the latam dubbing team felt a verbal I love you from Dean, made sense. And a few other lingering questions that have not actually been resolved and we may never know, but I'll go along. If Rich is happy with what was filmed and got to screen in the US, I'm glad. I love 15.18 either way. Rich's comments also goes to show how collaborative making tv is and how fluid the process can be.]

Rich said the scene wasn’t intended to be about Dean’s reciprocation, it was to give Cas his moment to speak his truth, to speak his love for Dean, and Cas didn’t expect an answer back, he just wanted to be heard, wanting Dean to know. [my note: makes sense to me, and it’s what I’ve thought about Cas pov. Cas pov not being the same as audience pov and what the story might need next and what Dean’s needs are. But for that scene, Cas feels complete. It also very much means the emotional story from Dean's side is not resolved. Dean wasn't given his chance yet, by creative design, perhaps because the only way they could get this greenlit at all is if it was only Cas who got to speak. We'll see what happens next.]

Rich saying because they did many takes of the scene with Dean’s emotional reactions, there are shots where Dean is crying more, or crying less. Editing put together different angles from different takes. [my note: the irony that naysayers are already trying to weaponize this to shut down the idea that anything got cut when per Rich himself, the facts on the ground are that the full range of Jensen’s acting for Dean’s response got reduced. No shade on Rich. But let's not erase or deny what was going on with Jensen's acting and how Jensen gave 110% and what wound up on screen was about 80% of whatever work Jensen did. Dean wept more than we saw, even before Dean was on the dungeon floor sobbing. Jensen’s performance as it stands is beautiful and powerful and full of emotion. It has taken an inordinate amount of hate and erasure, which is 100% cynical concern trolling to deny Dean’s feelings for Cas. More shots of Dean crying openly wouldn’t stop it, there’s no excuse for those responses. What’s there is loud enough. Only the most willfully cynical gaze could deny the love and anguish Dean showed.]

Rich said the parallel for John and Mary’s confession in TW 1x07 to 15x18 is a “coincidence” yet went on to talk about the trope of confessing love in a life or death situation and cited Leia and Han Solo among others [my note: it was also used again by an ep Rich recently directed in another piece of media I won’t say so I don’t spoil it. Also I’m laughing about how it seems he answered this. Total coincidence!! And spn 15.18 is like TW 1x07 is like Han and Leia and love confessions in dire situations is a common (romantic) trope. Pls, if anybody is taking away from this some kind of shutdown on creative recognition of the Destiel implications of it all, I don’t even want to know, I’ve had my fill of poor comprehension skills, poor critical thinking, and poor media literacy, oh my god]

Rich saying he was glad Cas’s words meant a lot to queer fans and that he feels it was important and a “bold” move that Bobo and Misha fought for. <3

So that's confirmation from director now, to add to writer intention, both actors, and an EP who greenlight Bobo's pitch for Cas’s testament as romantic. That is canon. That is a lock.

Cas's testament started out carefully padded into an “open to interpretation” zone. We have watched it be eased out of it and into the open.

I’m pleased it's openly acknowledged for what it is...and what I knew it was when the ep aired. I did expect it would be eventually, and would take some time. I’m glad it's here now.

As always, my appreciation for the work Rich, Bobo, Jensen, Misha did on 15.18 <333

[bibuckleykinard]

PLEASE TELL ME MORE

Honestly Kayla, finding this in my inbox is the highlight of my week, one of my favourite blogs on here @nilefreemans

I honestly have so many thoughts about bucktommy overall but tommy kinard is such an enigma in many ways and it’s kind of like sudoku where it’s a fun puzzle to play around with headcanons based on intentional and unintentional canon information and i have so many thoughts whenever i see gifs

cause like yeah it’s very easy to just be like yeah i’ve seen pics of lou with earrings but choosing to interpret it as an intentional character element adds so much to tommy’s character

cause yeah ear piercings are way less gendered now but i know i certainly grew up hearing so many gendered rules about who could or couldn’t get their ears pieced and the “gay earring”, and i imagine that would have been so much more amplified for Tommy, just the layers of pressure and closeting he is seemingly under prior to chimney begins— which makes the pierced ears even more interesting because jt means in universe that there was some point in time that tommy felt like he could step out of those confines and take what looks like this tiny little step but in reality is profound for him but only temporarily since we don’t see him wear them even outside of work iirc.

and i’m just fascinated by these little pockets of liberation for characters like tommy —like for ref. I watched spn and one of my favourite fic tropes is Stanford Era Dean where for a brief moment he doesn’t have to be hunter nobody is perceiving him and he gets to just be himself a queer man— which just feels very Tommy

like i don’t have hard or fast ideas and tommy doesn’t seems like the most traditionally impulsive (like buck) but more of a measured impulsivity where maybe he doesn’t seek things out but he’ll eagerly engage when it’s there- i mean see every time chimney has ‘dragged’ him into things/information out of him

So while I could easily see it being a throwaway line of like “oh yeah I forget about em, I got them when I lost a bet” or as a more active rebellious move of like hey I can't do something grander but I can do this and the kind of people who would see this as gay are the people I'm looking to spite right now

But my personal favourite is (again a lot of this is me just wanting an version of the stanford era dean segment of A Thousand Lives fic but Tommy pre-buck) I really enjoyed the idea that Tommy got his ears pieced because he wanted to just sincerely, even more so if in a bitter sweet way it’s in this blip of tommy’s life prior to coming out when he’s out to himself and dating men, going to queer spaces etc. and one of them is some queer man with the patience of a saint who one evening in a moment of calm intimacy probably brushing their hands through tommy’s hair and when noticing his ears ask tommy if he’s ever thought about getting them pierced- and at this window of post army and either pre LAFD entirely or just pre-buck 118- he has just enough courage to say yes and agree to getting them pierced, and like eventually this partner would somehow convince him to do some level of gender bending expression or drag like a Halloween costume (like please can somebody draw Tommy doing rock horror) and then bittersweet it’d probably link back to tommy being just not being ready for or in the right environment to be really fully out and a mutual break out as the other guy looking for a more visible relationship

i really wasn’t expecting this to be this long i had to fully delete a tangent i had about my thoughts on tommy and love actually but that’s for a different post lmao, again really honoured that you enjoyed my rambly tags enough to want to hear more, i wish i wrote fic so i could put these ideas together better but at least it’s there

[soullessjack]

🔥 jack

oh my godddd I have so many unpopular opinions where do I even start….HOLY DISCLAIMER BATMAN!

anyways so in no particular order or tier system:

✯ i don’t think jack would wear anything feminine im sorry spn fandom. for lolz he has same-outfit-pattern-everyday autism and for serious it’s like. Really weird how fandoms tend to HC/portray non-binary amabs (and men/transmascs in general) almost exclusively as GNC or fem-presenting…like DGMW that is a real and valid form of self expression but it’s not the Only type of non-binary expression that exists. and honestly…**dare I say that most fandom/queer spaces just need to realize that queer masculinity exists and it doesn’t always have to be a matter of breaking gender norms??

** genuinely do whatever u want idc I can’t stop you i don’t want to stop you yada yada. paint his nails and put him in a skirt all u want but Please recognize patterns yall 😭

✯ more headcanon complaints (see disclaimer above ⇧) but I promise to switch it up soon. anyways every time somebody on this lil website says something along the lines of “Jack can’t handle/doesn’t like [insert violence, scary or adult-oriented thing], he prefers [soft or blatantly childlike things]” I shrivel inward like a dead spider. It’s annoying, it’s completely inaccurate to his canon personality and interests, it’s annoying ˣ2, and whether ppl wanna admit it or not—it stems from infantilization. not necessarily ableism, as infantilization is not exclusive to disabled people, but still just about the same thing.

honestly all I see of majority jack headcanons are ones that set him back to just being a child or otherwise being treated like one. for example, the one about him being able to shapeshift is pretty cool...until it just becomes about him deciding to age regress, yknow, to an age set he canonically chose not to go through, showed no desire to be in, and is more offended than anything to be considered as such. all of his interests have to be some shit like bluey or animal crossing, and he drinks apple juice from a sippy cup instead of beer. BARF.

I’ve lessened on my keyboard warring over babyjack in the past year but I have not lessened in being a hater. and I’ve said this before, but the baby-jack au already breached headcanon containment a long time ago when it’s not only so widespread that ppl take it for canon and it makes having any intelligent conversation about him nearly fucking Impossible, but it also lead to harassment and accusations of being a fucking predator, to anyone who dared find a whole grown man attractive. any potential jack ship, like jackharper? automatic grooming case to them. it’s like the fandom is just so dead set on this idea that jack really truly is a child in every aspect you can think of, and for what? if it’s just a headcanon, something you know is not part of the actual show, then don’t go Travis the Chimp levels of apeshit when you see him being treated like he is canonically 💀

unpopular opinion numero 3 which is slightly connected to 2:

✯ baby-jack and a handful of the domestic au’s are BORING (see disclaimer again ⇧), not just on a surface level to my suiting, but also because I feel like it just ..misses the point of the show?

the ragtag untraditional found family is now as nuclear and traditional as the Atomic Age. Dean and Cas are the most heteronormative “who wears the pants in the relationship” gay couple ever, Sam is demoted to the uncle that gets written out of his own family, Jack is just there to make his gay dads look cute and emphasize that they’re a gay family (while still being very heteronormative), and at least 5 of them could be found in a California gated community. everything that made any of them unique or defined their personalities is just scrubbed off, even for an AU.

so much of the later seasons focus on Sam and Dean realizing that they don’t have to make a hard splitting decision between the lives they want to live; that they can find a balance; be happy and have good things—namely families—without giving up hunting (and vice versa, that they can have hunting without giving up on family or happiness). everybody loves the gay hunters from S10(?12?) and what they represented for Dean, but I almost never see that be put into practice in the fandom.

THEY’RE ALREADY DOMESTIC!!! AND WITH THAT PERFECT BALANCE!!!! Season 13 quite literally gave Team Free Will a surrogate son to raise and established them as a family; highly untraditional, largely dysfunctional, overall not fitting of a family family, and yet they are a family still. Dean wears an apron and cooks and bakes for everyone; he built himself a man cave and established two separate family night events that they all ritually keep up; Sam has a morning jogging routine and visits his girlfriend every so often; Jack was taught how to drive, has normal chores like washing dishes, and gets groceries. And they didn’t just have that while fighting monsters—they had that while fighting a whole fucking archangel. Even if it did go down the gutter by the end, they still had it: domestic familial bliss and violent messy hunting without having to trade one for the other.

✯ I truly genuinely think Jack’s relationship with Dean is the best, most interesting and most misunderstood out of the three, and I also think that the problems with his relationship to Cas and Sam are hugely overlooked by the fandom—granted they are very small, especially if you’re comparing it to Dean, but they’re still there and I think we should bully Cas and Sam about it more. I shan’t elaborate because it’s 5AM and this was an impulsive add-on ❤️

✯ getting normal now…his plaid pattern jacket from the first half of Ouroboros is ugly as SHIT i have never liked it and don’t think I ever will. but I cannot deny it; he got that shit on.

✯ most unpopular opinion of all, I wanna do insane shit to his cervix 🙌

[profoundbondfanfic]

heard from your mother (she don't recognize you)

heard from your mother (she don’t recognize you) by rupertgayes (@rupertgayes) Rating: Mature Word Count: 538k

A man named Cas wakes up in 2003 with no memories, but he's able to piece together a few things: Supernatural creatures exist, and most of them will hurt innocent civilians if he doesn't stop them; he has abilities that no human hunter should have, but he knows enough about human hunters to keep that to himself, and finally; he keeps running into another hunter named Dean Winchester, who must be as lonely as he is if he's willing to put up with those former facts long enough to help Cas unravel the mystery of who (or what) he really is. For his part, Dean's still (not) dealing with Sam's departure to Stanford, and figures distracting himself with a bit of mystery and intrigue is as harmless as it gets, right? Right.

Are you in the mood to experience the whole story developing a bit differently right from the start?

Then here you go!

On one hand there is Dean, still having a hard time handling his brother leaving for college years ago and trying to somehow manage by doing his due diligence as a hunter and following his father’s demands to the letter. Somewhere along the way, however, he starts to constantly cross paths with a man who remembers nothing from his life apart from his name and a strong urge to hunt monsters. At first Dean has no idea what to make of this guy who calls himself Cas, but over time their connection and relationship grows into something very personal as everything around them unravels.

If you ever wanted to know what would happen if you were to throw Cas into pre canon and early season SPN, this series certainly doesn’t hesitate to show you just that! Cas has no clue where he is coming from, who he even is deep down, and yet he gives it his everything to use his abilities to save as many people as possible. 

And Dean, bless him, simply can’t help but be drawn to all of that (because how could he not?), no matter how hard he fights it. Since at the end of the day he is still Dean Winchester who’s simply unable to resist a blue-eyed weirdo of a guy who could very well be an actual honest-to-God angel or whatever (not that something like that exists, right?? RIGHT????) by the way he is acting and showing off his strange powers and all that. Poor Dean is just helpless and it’s the greatest fun to see him sinking deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole!

But it’s also intriguing to watch everything unfold in a slightly different manner, with some crucial details changed, and the mystery of Cas’ past, of his true being, is wonderfully depicted as they gather more and more breadcrumbs over time. I mean, technically we all know the answer to the puzzle that is Cas, contrary to the characters, and yet (or maybe especially because of it) you find yourself ridiculously invested.

And yes, this series is a big boy, I’ll give it that, but I promise you it’s worth it and you will barely feel time flying by as you dive into this alternate and yet so very familiar version of events which are going to leave you on the edge of your seat!

So please, have fun 😁