#alive!bobby's first words to the team will be “over my dead body will you be going back to El Paso” and Hen will say “too soon”

[cantpickyourgenre]

Do you think dead!Bobby is going to rise from the grips of eternal sleep the moment he hears Eddie say, "Okay, I'm all set to go back to Texas"?

[anonymousewrites]

Nobody's Soldier (Book 1) Chapter Thirty-Six

Found Family! Supernatural x Teen! Reader

Chapter Six: The Sixty-Sixth Seal

Summary: Lilith is preparing to get everything she wanted.

Mouse Note: Alright! And here's the end of Book 1! Thank you so so much for all the support so far. The comments and interactions with you guys have meant the world to me, and I'm so excited for Book 2. We're going to roll right into it tomorrow, so I'm excited for the story to continue! Hope to see you guys all tomorrow!

            “Dean?” He just kept staring at (Y/N), chest barely rising and falling. “Dean.” He blinked. “You listen to a word I said?” Dean finally turned to Bobby.

            “Yeah, I heard you,” he said.

            “(Y/N)’ll pull through,” said Bobby softly. “They’re strong. You found them in time, and they stopped bleeding.”

            Dean shook his head. “If I had been any later—”

            “You weren’t,” said Bobby.

            “—they could have died, Bobby, and it would’ve been my fault,” said Dean. “They’re too…they’re too young for that. It wouldn’t be fair.”

            “Life ain’t fair,” said Bobby. He agreed that it wasn’t right for (Y/N) to die, but they were in this life, and it was only their own tenacity and willful desire to leave that they hadn’t died yet. “But they’re alive. You saved them.”

            Dean swallowed, reached out, and squeezed (Y/N)’s hand. “I—I don’t want them to die.”

            “I know.” The kid was nearly family at this point, though no one said it. “And they’re not going to.”

            “The Apocalypse is coming,” scoffed Dean.

            “Not if you and Sam stop it,” said Bobby.

            “Sam and I aren’t a team anymore,” said Dean. “I can’t call him.”

            “Don’t make me get my gun, boy,” said Bobby.

            “We’re damn near the kickoff of Armageddon. Don’t you think we got bigger fish to fry at the moment?”

            “I know you’re pissed, and I’m not making apologies for what he’s done, but he’s your—”

            “Blood?” finished Dean, scoffing. “He’s my blood, is that what you’re gonna say?”

            “He’s your brother, and he’s drowning,” said Bobby.

            “Bobby, I tried to help him. I did,” said Dean, shaking his head sorrowfully. “Look what happened.” He looked at (Y/N), bandaged and still. “(Y/N) nearly died. It’s too late.”

            “Dean, Sam can’t be okay with this,” said Bobby, looking at (Y/N)’s body. “You need to tell him. You can get through to him.”

            Dean scoffed. “After what he did to me? Who knows what he’s good with. It’s too late.”

            “There’s no such thing,” said Bobby.

            “No! Damn it!” Dean’s voice was a mix of anger and sadness. “No. We got to face the facts—Sam never wanted part of this family. He hated this life growing up. Ran away to Stanford first chance he got. And now it’s like deja-vu all over again.” He shook his head. “Well, I am sick and tired of chasing him. Screw him. He can do what he wants.”

            “You don’t mean that,” said Bobby.

            “Yes, I do, Bobby,” said Dean forcefully. “Sam’s gone. He’s gone.” He swallowed. “I’m not even sure if he’s still my brother anymore. If he ever was.”

            Bobby looked around for something to break in response to Dean’s words. Sometimes, his boys were really stupid. He settled from throwing books and papers off his desk. “You stupid, stupid, son of a bitch!” If (Y/N) was any less dead, they would certainly wake up. Dean looked at Bobby in surprise. “Well, boohoo! I’m sorry your feelings are hurt, princess! Are you under the impression that family’s supposed to make you feel good, bake you an apple pie, maybe? They’re supposed to make you miserable! That’s why they’re family!”

            “I told him, ‘You walk out that door, don’t come back!’ ” snapped Dean. “And he walked out anyway! That was his choice!”

            “You sound like a whiny brat,” snapped Bobby. Dean scoffed and walked by him. “No. You sound like your dad. Well, let me tell you something, you dad was a coward.”

            Dean stopped and turned towards Bobby, a dangerous look in his eyes at the mention of John. “My dad was a lot of things, Bobby, but a coward?”

            “He’d rather push Sam away than reach out to him,” said Bobby. “Well, that don’t strike me as brave. You are a better man than your daddy ever was.” Dean scoffed. “So you do both of us—all of us—” he pointed at (Y/N), so small and weak looking, so much a child, with bandages over them “—a favor, don’t be him.” Bobby shook his head, looking at his boy.

            Dean swallowed and turned to (Y/N). Tearing his away, he looked at the window. He swallowed and turned back to answer, but he suddenly stood in an ornate room on his own. Confused, he looked around.

            “Hello, Dean.”

            Dean whirled to find Castiel.

            “It’s almost time,” said Castiel grimly.

l

            (Y/N) let out a breath as they felt their mind swimming back to consciousness. They felt heavy, but a steady, small pressure on their chest grounded them. If they were dead and they still had their crystal, they were going to call it an omen of death and not protection. That was their decision. Ideally, (Y/N) wasn’t dead, but at this point, who knew.

            (Y/N) opened their eyes, and they blinked against the sunlight pouring down on them. They lay on a couch, and the sky was warm and blue. Maybe this was Heaven. And if it was Heaven—

            “Mom? Dad?” croaked (Y/N) blearily, trying to sit up.

            Instantly, their entire side ached, and (Y/N) groaned, curling up.

            “Sorry, kid. Just me,” said Bobby’s voice.

            They were alive. Somehow, (Y/N)’s heart ached more. After everything…they wanted their mom and dad. They wanted family. (Y/N) swallowed, and a single tear fell down their cheek. Quickly, they wiped it away, feigning it was from pain.

            “Need a painkiller?” asked Bobby, helping them sit up.

            “No,” they said, swallowing. “I—I need to talk to Dean. Ruby, she—”

            “He guessed,” said Bobby. “He knows.”

            “Where is he?” asked (Y/N), trying to stand.

            Bobby pushed them back down. “Disappeared because he’s the angels’ bitch. Don’t get up. It’s a goddamned miracle of the Apocalypse that you’re healing like you are.” At least something was going their way.

            (Y/N) grumbled but stayed down. “So he’s not here? And Sam’s not here? Great. Fantastic.”

            “What is it? Don’t tell me you’re trying to run out into the line of fire after nearly bleeding out? That would be a hell of a stupid thing to do,” scolded Bobby.

            “No, okay, well, yes.” If (Y/N) was alive, they wanted to do something. “But I think something’s wrong with Ruby.”

            “No kidding, she’s a demon who tried to murder you,” said Bobby.

            (Y/N) shook their head, immediately regretted the action as their head spun, and groaned. “No, not that—I mean, yeah, that was a dick move—” (an understatement, but there they were) “—but she was saying some weird stuff. I think…I think she’s bad.”

            “You’re not making sense,” said Bobby. Just how much blood did the kid lose?

            “She was mad about me surviving something and needed to keep Sam happy. Like an agenda,” said (Y/N). They looked at Bobby. “I think…I think Ruby’s working for Lilith.”

            Bobby’s eyes widened. “What?”

            “And if she’s working for Lilith, everything Sam’s been told is a lie, and she’s using him,” said (Y/N). “We need to get to Dean. Or Sam. Or someone,” They tried to stand again and got pushed right back down to Bobby.

            “Bad news. We don’t know where either of them are,” said Bobby.

            “Dean’s with angels?” said (Y/N).

            “Yeah, probably,” said Bobby.

            (Y/N) grimaced. “Then I’m gonna pray.”

            “You think the company men are gonna listen?” said Bobby.

            “One might,” said (Y/N). One has a weak spot for Dean which’ll help.

l

            Dean paced as, yet again, his phone didn’t work. He didn’t know where Sam was, if he could get to him, or if (Y/N) was doing alright. It was just static. He was trapped.

            “You can’t reach them, Dean,” said Castiel. “You’re outside your coverage zone.”

            Dean swallowed. “What are you gonna do to Sam?”

            “Nothing,” said Castiel, walking around Dean to face him. “He’s gonna do it to himself.”

            “What’s that supposed to me?” said Dean, narrowing his eyes. Castiel looked down, and Dean scoffed. “Oh, right, right. Got to toe the company line.” Castiel looked up slightly. “Why are you here, Cas?”

            “We’ve been through much together, you and I, and I just wanted to say I’m sorry it ended like this,” said Castiel.

            Dean raised his eyebrows incredulously. “ ‘Sorry?’ ” he repeated. He scoffed. Promptly, he punched Castiel across the face. Castiel’s face snapped to the side, but if he was hurt, he showed no sign. Dean grimaced as he turned his back and flexed his hand. “It’s Armageddon, Cas. You need a bigger word than ‘sorry.’ ”

            “Try to understand,” said Castiel. “This is long foretold. This is your—”

            “Destiny?” finished Dean with extreme skepticism. “Don’t give me that ‘holy’ crap. Destiny, God’s plan…It’s all a bunch of lies, you poor, stupid son of a bitch!” He was desperate for Castiel to listen to him. “It’s just a way for your bosses to keep me and keep you in line!” He stepped closer to Castiel. “You know what’s real? People, families—that’s real. And you’re gonna watch them all burn?”

            Castiel stepped forward, too. “What is so worth saving? I see nothing but pain here. I see inside you.” They were eye-to-eye now. “I see your guilt, your anger, confusion. In Paradise, all is forgiven. You’ll be at peace. Even with Sam. And Bobby. And (Y/N).” At Dean’s intense gaze, Castiel’s eyes lowered slightly.

            Dean leaned his head down to force Castiel’s eyes to meet his. “You can take your peace…and shove it up your lily-white ass. Cause I’ll take the pain and the guilt. I’ll even take Sam as is. It’s a lot better than being some Stepford bitch in Paradise. This is simple, Cas!” Castiel turned away, and Dean shouted, “No more crap about being a good soldier! There is a right and there is a wrong here, and you know it!” He grabbed Castiel’s shoulder. “Look at me!” Castiel was forced to face him. “You know it!” He licked his lips. “You were gonna help me once, weren’t you? You were gonna warn me about all of this before they dragged you back to Bible camp? Help me—now. Please.”

            Castiel took in a deep breath. “What would you have me do?”

            “Get me to Sam. We can stop this before it’s too late. Whatever he’s supposed to do that goes wrong, we stop it,” said Dean.

            “I do that, we will all be hunted,” said Castiel. “We’ll all be killed.”

            “If there’s anything worth dying for…this is it,” said Dean, voice softer than it had been throughout the entire conversation.

            Castiel stared at him a long, long moment, but he had to shake his head. Dean swallowed angrily.

            “You spineless…soulless son of a bitch.” He turned away from Castiel, unable to even face him. “What do you care about dying? You’re already dead. We’re done.”

            “Dean—” The word came hesitatingly, but Castiel said it anyways.

            “We’re done,” snapped Dean.

            Castiel was silent before disappearing with a whoosh. As angry as Dean was, he mourned the lonely, deadly silence that came after.

            Dean was left to wander on his own. There was nothing in that horrible “green room” Zachariah insisted on calling it. Nothing except a mountain of burgers. Dean rejected them angrily, refusing to take the angels’ stupid form of human hospitality and attempt to appease him. However, he was hungry, and, finally, he was forced to pick one up. He went to take a bite.

            A hand grabbed his shoulder, turned him around, and pushed him against the wall. Dean went to shout, but Castiel pressed a hand over his mouth. Dean’s eyes widened as Castiel pulled out a dagger. However, instead of hurting him, Castiel let go of his mouth and stepped back. He cut his own arm, letting blood leak from the wound. Smearing his hand in the blood, Castiel began to draw a sigil on the wall.

            “Castiel!” Zachariah appeared, enraged. “Would you explaining just what the hell you’re doing?”

            Castiel didn’t stop working until Zachariah grabbed him, but Castiel pressed his hand to the sigil, and a bright light flashed through the room. It blasted Zachariah away.

            “He won’t be gone long,” said Castiel quickly. “We have to find Sam now.”

            “Where is he?” asked Dean.

            “I don’t know,” said Castiel. “But I know who does—” He frowned.

            “Cas?” said Dean.

            “(Y/N)’s…praying to me,” said Castiel.

            “They’re alright?” said Dean instantly.

            “They’re saying they figured out something about Ruby,” said Castiel, gaze faraway. “They know the truth.”

            “What?” said Dean.

            Castiel looked at Dean. “They know Sam must be stopped from killing Lilith.”

            “But Lilith’s gonna break the final seal,” said Dean.

            “Lilith is the final seal,” said Castiel. “She dies; the End begins.”

            “And Ruby lied to Sam,” breathed Dean. And (Y/N) figured it out.

            “Yes,” said Castiel. He paused. “(Y/N) is insisting on getting to murder Ruby.”

            “No, they almost died—”

l

            Dean and Castiel appeared in Bobby’s living room a moment later. (Y/N)’s gaze brightened, and they scrambled to their feet from where they’d been praying.

            “It worked!” they said. “Dean, Cas, Ruby’s—”

            “Working with Lilith,” said Dean. “Thanks for figuring it out.”

            “Which means Sam’s going to do something stupid—”

            “Killing Lilith is the final sea,” said Dean.

            “Great,” groaned (Y/N). “What are we gonna do?”

            “You’re not gonna do anything,” said Dean forcefully.

            “Do we really have time for this?” grumbled (Y/N). “I can help!”

            “You nearly died!” shouted Dean. He refused to let them do so again.

            “And we die anyways if Lucifer rises,” said (Y/N). “I’d rather go down fighting.”

            “A soldier,” said Castiel approvingly, and Dean glared at him.

            “We don’t have time for this,” snapped (Y/N). “We need to get to wherever the hell Sam is.”

            “Yes,” said Castiel.

            “Now, hold on, no bringing them—”

            Dean was ignored, and Castiel was too focused on the task at hand to listen. (Y/N) was brought along with them. They were in this until the end.

l

            “St. Mary’s? What is it, a convent?” said Dean, looking at the recent visions of poor prophet Chuck, who just wanted to enjoy his last night on earth but was instead stuck, again, with angels and hunters.

            “Yeah, but you guys aren’t supposed to be there,” said Chuck, looking at (Y/N), Dean, and Castiel. “You’re not in this story.”

            “Yeah, well. We’re making it up as we go,” said Castiel.

            (Y/N) grinned and flipped their brand-new knife around in their hand. This one would help them against Ruby. They were looking forward to it.

            A rumble shook the house, and the lights flickered before a blinding white glow appeared from outside.

            “Aw, man, not again!” cried Chuck.

            “It’s the archangel!” shouted Castiel over the rumble. “I’ll hold them off. I’ll hold them all off.” (Y/N) and Dean’s eyes widened. “Just stop Sam!” He grabbed Dean and (Y/N)’s heads, and they disappeared.

l

            Dean and (Y/N) appeared in the convent. It was dark outside and inside. (Y/N) looked at Dean.

            “Go and find Sam. I’ll get the other demons,” said (Y/N).

            “(Y/N), you nearly died, I can’t—” He couldn’t let the kid, their kid, die because of his choices again.

            “You can, and you will,” said (Y/N) forcefully. Their gaze was hard and set. “Don’t worry, Dean. I’m going to kill Ruby.”

            He looked at (Y/N), barely hindered by their injury already, a ferocity he hadn’t seen in their eyes. He felt almost…proud. “Okay.” Dean wouldn’t forgive himself if he lost them, but he knew he couldn’t argue. “I’ll stop Sam.”

            They ran in opposite directions. Dean headed towards the sanctum of the church, and (Y/N) ran around the other side.

            “God, you’re like a pest.”

            (Y/N) slowed as Ruby stood between them and one of the entrances to the sanctum. They narrowed their eyes as the demon crossed her arms.

            “Coming all by yourself again? How stupid,” scoffed Ruby.

            “Yeah, well, you didn’t manage to finish the job last time, so I thought I’d teach you a lesson,” sneered (Y/N).

            “I’ll cut off your head. Or maybe even rip out your heart this time. Maybe then you’ll stop moving,” said Ruby. “Just like your parents.”

            A sound of ringing echoed in (Y/N)’s ears. “What?”

            “I mean, they just wouldn’t die. It was so exhausting,” sighed Ruby. “Like cockroaches. Just wouldn’t die and kept causing trouble. Well…I still handled them with a little help. Pathetic at the end, honestly.”

            Ruby was one of them. She was one of the demons that murdered (Y/N)’s parents. They held their dagger and moved forward before Ruby before she could say another thing. Ruby blocked them and shoved them towards the wall. (Y/N) lifted their legs, braced against the wall, and pushed back. Ruby stumbled and threw (Y/N) away. (Y/N) hit the ground and rolled to their feet. They felt their side ache, but they were hyper-focused. They had no mind for their pain or their injury or anything except for killing Ruby.

            (Y/N) ran towards Ruby, and she threw out a hand. (Y/N) slammed into the wall and hit the ground, coughing. Ruby smirked.

            “Just as pathetic as when your parents died,” she crooned. “You bawled and bawled like a baby, and then you showed up pretending to be so big and tough when you’re still just a weak, pathetic little human and always will be.” She slammed her hand down on (Y/N)’s hand as they reached for the dagger. “I would’ve expected more what with who your parents were, but you’re just a disappointment, aren’t you? They’d be ashamed of the weakling they raised.”

            (Y/N) twisted over despite their pinned hand and slammed their body into Ruby’s leg. She stumbled and fell. (Y/N) flipped over onto her back, grabbed their dagger and raised it.

            “Go to fucking hell, you fucking bitch,” shouted (Y/N), slamming the dagger down.

            Ruby let out a cry as light burnt her from the inside out. She coughed, and the faint lights above flickered as she died. (Y/N) stared down at the body beneath them, heaving for breaths as adrenaline rushed through them. Gritting their teeth, they twisted the knife even though Ruby was already dead.

            “That’s for my parents,” they snapped at the body, getting up. They held their necklace in one hand tightly and the knife in the other. Blood dripped steadily to the ground. That’s for my mom and dad.

            (Y/N) pivoted and ran down the hall, leaving Ruby to rot. As they ran towards the Sanctum, they heard a shout.       

            “Sam don’t!” cried Dean as (Y/N) rounded the corner.

            The moment after he spoke, a light ripped out of Lilith’s body on the altar. She screamed as Sam twisted his fingers, and Dean and (Y/N)’s eyes widened. Too late. Her body slumped to the floor, and blood began to trail from her neck towards the floor. Instead of pooling, though, it created a strange circle before swirling inwards. A sigil.

            Sam stared at it and then looked up at Dean and (Y/N). “What the hell?”

            “Lucifer’s coming,” breathed (Y/N), eyes widening.

            “What?” Sam stared at them. “No, no, I killed Lilith.”

            “She was the final seal, Sam,” said Dean sorrowfully. “Ruby lied to you.”

            Sam shook his head instantly. “No, she wouldn’t, she—”

            “She tried to kill me,” said (Y/N). “Left me for dead in the creek.”

            Sam’s eyes widened. He had walked right past where (Y/N)’s body lay and let Ruby lie to his face, and he had been none the wiser. “I—Oh, god.” His hands went to his hair, shaking as the truth settled in. “Ruby, she’s here, she—”

            “She’s dead,” said (Y/N) simply.

            “I trusted her. And I took the blood. And I thought I was helping people—but I hurt—and I opened—” Sam stared at the sigil, tears threatening his eyes.

            “Yeah,” said Dean, swallowing. “You did.” There was nothing to be done about it now.

            “I’m sorry,” sobbed Sam, voice breaking as he sank to the floor.

            The blood in the sigil connected, and a bright light emerged from it. The ground rumbled, and the building shook.

            “Sammy, (Y/N), let’s go,” said Dean, grabbing both of them and pulling them towards the door.

            “Dean,” said Sam, staring at the light. “He’s coming.”

            The light barreled towards them, blinding, and (Y/N) closed their eyes, their hands around their red-hot crystal. Lucifer was rising.

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[creativeashproductions]

Change of Scenery // Evan Buckley

IN WHICH: Captain Bobby Nash has kept a secret from his friends, his wife and his step children since 2015 when he came to LA. Bobby’s eldest and only surviving child comes to LA to reconcile and make amends all the while she catches the eye of a certain blue eyed firefighter.

Warnings: Swearing, death/familial loss, pregnancy, blood, angst, injuries/medical emergency, and fluff

Words: 8k

A/N: Back at it with another 9-1-1 fic. Hope you enjoy, and I may just have to do another crossover with 9-1-1 and Julie and the Phantoms.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

There are moments in our lives that define us, whether it can be known as a positive or negative, but the outcome is always the same. A six-letter word that strikes fear and excitement into the souls of humans is change. The fear can be for ourselves or as a result of a child, a sibling, or a parent branching out on their own. Unfortunately, you had gone through a harsh and cruel experience on a cold winter night in the city you grew up in.

A typical Thursday filled with classes at the college you attended in Minnesota on a scholarship, nothing out of the ordinary. The plan had been to drive to your parents’ apartment to catch up with them for the weekend. Saturday morning was already reserved for a girls day with your little sister Brook and your mom. In the afternoon, you’d promised to take your brother Bobby to the ball diamond.

Your bag was packed, the plan to drive straight from class to St. Paul the following day to arrive in the daylight. Your dad struggled with worry when it came to you driving in the dark and especially in winter with icy roads.

“Y/N!” Dottie screeched from the living room of the four-bedroom dormitory. The pretty and curvy brunette had been the first friend you made in college.

Typically Dottie was on the quieter side, so when she screamed, you practically sprinted to the girl.

“Where’s the fire?” You demanded with a smirk at the reference to a topic that was a constant in your family. 

The fire drills your father conducted every four months for an exit plan in case of a fire and general information to save yourselves. He had also trained you to remember fire hazards and how to call dispatch with clear information if that time ever came. It never did and hopefully never would.

“The Lakeview Apartments in St. Paul.” Dottie’s dark brown eyes spoke only of pity and concern. The five foot ten roommate literally caught you as you tumbled into her arms with a loud grief-stricken scream.

You were forever indebted to the brunette for the plans she sacrificed to drive you back to St. Paul. There was absolutely no chance Dottie would allow you to both drive and be alone with no news. The media hadn’t released the names of the 148 deaths the fire relentlessly tore from the land of the living.

“I want to prepare you for what you’ll see. Your mother suffered severe third-degree burns over the majority of her body.” The kind nurse, also one of your friend’s parent, explained as she guided you to the Burn Center in the Regions Hospital, “I don’t want to lie and tell you she’ll be fine. You’re an adult Y/N. You deserve the truth and not be coddled.”

“Is she gonna survive?” You quietly asked, “Has she woken up since she was brought in?”

“The doctor placed her on a high dosage of morphine for the pain. Your father hasn’t left her side.” Lucinda informed you with sympathy written as over her face, The hazel eyes unable to adequately meet yours.

“I’ll check on her, then could you take me to the rooms my siblings are in?” You asked, completely unaware Brook and Bobby had been DOA at the hospital.

Your father hadn’t answered the text messages or the voicemails you had left on his phone—radio silent. You couldn’t be mad when he was with your mom, but a text would have been nice.

“This is where your mother is staying for the unforeseeable future. If you need anything, you can call me.” Lucinda softly replied before turning her heel to head back to the Burn Centre’s front desk.

It was horrific walking into a room with no idea if the occupant who had raised you would survive. The confident, gorgeous mother you had for the past nineteen years was unfamiliar to you, the extensive gauze covering nearly every inch of her body. You almost couldn’t even recognize the man sitting in the chair with his hands wrapped. 

“Dad? What happened?” You questioned the grieving man. The only person left in your family as you would soon come to know.

“Y/N?” Bobby gasped, pushing himself to his feet, staring at his only living child. The guilt ate at him just staring at you with those light brown eyes, “Oh, sweetheart.”

Your dad crossed the room in a few steps. The scent of smoke was still clinging to every part of him, but it was fine. Your dad was okay, minus the wounds on his hands. You’d always been closer with your father than your mother.

“Dad, what happened?” You quietly asked the ashamed firefighter that had to reconcile his feelings on the fire and his career—that struggle ending up pushing you away when he really just wanted you as close as possible.

“The building caught on fire after an ember from a heater lit a blanket on fire,” Bobby informed you with his eyes pinned on his wife. Bobby knew the chances of Marcy surviving were incredibly low, and he had to tell you that.

Bobby only knew the details passed on from a firefighter who pitied the man who’d lost most of his family. 

“Is Mom gonna be okay?” You questioned, and the said injured woman in the bed weakly responded.

“Baby?” Marcy quietly questioned from her absolutely still position on the hospital bed, “Uh, Bobby.”

You left your father’s side to be as close to your mom as possible, with the clear plastic separating you for her safety. Your heart shattered at the sheer exhaustion in her pretty blue eyes. 

“Hi, Mom.” You shakily spoke with one hand lightly pressed against the plastic divider. You didn’t even notice when your dad stepped up too.

“Marcy?” Bobby called out from right beside you, just as torn up, but Bobby carried extra weight on his shoulders, “We’re right here, Marcy. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

The muffled grunt of pain, your mom’s attempt to save you from grief, Marcy let out as she turned her head to look at you. You knew deep in your gut that this was the time place you would see your mom alive. And by the look in her eyes, she knew too.

“The...kids…?” Your mom’s breathing became more erratic as she questioned the man she viewed as her hero. The man she believed had saved her and their youngest children, “Where...are they?”

“The kids are fine.” The way your father said it and the tears led to the knowledge once kept from you.

“No.” You whispered, seeing the total grief written clear on his face. The pain meds and agony kept your mom from knowing the truth.

“They’re safe.”

“I knew you’d come and save us.” Your mom breathed as her eyes started hiding the pretty blue you’d now only see in pictures. In your dreams, until even those faded as father time cruelly pulled you along.

Then your worst nightmare happened. You watched as the woman you looked up to flatlined with the thought of her children safe. You’d always know she’d held on just long enough to find out the state of her children. You could only hope she’d forgive your father for lying to her as she died.

“Mom!” You screamed, fighting the arms of an orderly restraining you. You barely noticed the resistance to your frantic attempts.

One minute you were staring at a team unsuccessfully trying to revive your long-gone mother, then you were in a hotel room. The atmosphere tense and quiet between father and daughter, with the ghost of your dead family to keep you both company. You could hear Brook gagging every time you’d kissed your now ex. You could see Bobby toddling after you years ago.

At least you had your father—a father whose guilt festered until he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“It was my fault.” He murmured, staring at the barely eaten burger that tasted solely just cardboard. He couldn’t bear to look at your face, “I didn’t mean to leave it on.”

Your head snapped to stare at him in disbelief, “What do you mean you didn’t mean to leave it on?”

“I-I went to the roof to sleep after your mom kicked me out. I didn’t have my keys to the apartment I had below ours.” Bobby began spilling the lies he’d told to you about his addictions. Of the apartment, you’d had no clue was even in his possessions.

The pain of losing your family tore into you, “You took my mom away from me. I’ll never get to share my wedding day with her. Shopping for a dress and gossiping about boys. I’ll never be able to wipe Brook’s tears during her first heartbreak.”

Each word broke Bobby more and more.

“You stole my future. You’re selfish, ungrateful and utterly pathetic. You cost so many people so much, all because you sought out your next high.” You spat, glaring at someone you’d never expected to hurt you. You didn’t notice your hands grabbing your possessions nor opening the hotel room door, “You couldn’t even properly try to get clean.”

“Y/N-”

“Get your shit together before you kill anyone else. I never want to see you again.” You sobbed with regret already festering in your body, but pride held you back from apologizing.

Upon your return to your dorm with Dottie by your side, you immediately began the process to enter an exchange program. Within a month, your feet entered Sydney Airport. You didn’t return to America for several years.

You took a job as a casual lifeguard on Bondi Beach, met Lucas in a meet-cute situation at the grocery store. You graduated college and found a job as a paramedic as you began becoming a flight paramedic. In 2020 Lucas and you discovered you’d be bringing in a little baby into the world.

Learning about your little Cashew growing safe in your womb fanned the flame of desire to reconcile. Ultimately the pride kept pushing the urge to apologize for the cruel words you told your father further away. You naively believed you had all the time in the world.  

Remember the six-letter scary word? If losing your mom, siblings, and father was a devastating blow, losing Lucas was nearly tied. Your little Cashew lost their father before they even got to meet him. That was push enough to pack up your home and fly back to America with your father’s new address as soon as you could.

In the fallout of the apartment fire, your father relocated from Minnesota to Los Angeles. 

Los Angeles, 2020

As soon as you’d found the nicest but cheapest hotel to stay in until you found a place, you walked the streets of LA. The first order of business of approaching your father at his workplace as you had no personal address. Residing still in Minnesota, Deputy Chief Evans had only given you the address of Bobby’s work.

You could only hope Bobby wouldn’t turn you away. That he was willing to bridge the gap, you’d widened over the years. That he could forgive the silence to each email, he sent when you changed numbers.

“We should go out to dinner.” The female voice was what brought you back to the present time. The woman was beautiful with her buzzed head and clear skin.

Right by her side was a dark-haired male of Asian ethnicity with a bag thrown over his shoulder, “If you’re paying, you bet I’ll be there.”

The two continued to converse in their own world until the man had to literally dodge you when they finally noticed you.

“Does Chief Bobby Nash work here?” You inquired, having no desire to enter small talk when the baby was sitting on your bladder again. You nearly retched when the man stared down at your swollen midsection, shocked, “It’s not his baby.”

Hen caught the evident disgust on your face, “He’s in his office. I’ll guide you there…”

“Y/N.” You supplied the firefighter. Hen smiled in response, “And your name is…”

“Henrietta Wilson, but you can call me Hen. That was Howard Han. He goes by Chimney, and I’ve been sworn to secrecy on the name.” Hen chuckled in her steps to the closed door of the fire chief. Hen swiftly knocked on the door to give Bobby a heads up.

“Come in!” Bobby called from his pile of paperwork he had pushed and waited to work on. It had slipped as the date came closer. Your twenty-seventh birthday, the seventh one since he last saw you.

“Cap, a woman is asking for you,” Hen told her friend and boss. It’s a good thing you didn’t choose to surprise your father because Hen was shorted, and your bump made manoeuvring around tricky.

“What can I do…” Bobby trailed off when he saw the girl waiting to talk to him. The pen in his hand dropped to the table in shock.

Hen glanced between the two equally taken aback individuals, “Am I missing something here?”

“Hey, dad.” You whispered to the man who’d been dreaming of this moment since the minute you left. He’d searched for you at your previous college and nearly made a missing person report.

“Dad?” Hen couldn’t pick her jaw up from the floor if she even wanted to because this was juicy information. Sure, Bobby had caved into telling his team, his family that he’d lost his wife and two children in a fire.

He rarely talked about his life before the 118, but he’d never mentioned having a surviving daughter. Not in the handful of times he’d talked about the tragedy, nor did he have any objects or photos of you. 

“You’re really here?” Bobby lightly chuckled with a twinkle in his eye. Hen had only seen a handful of times. All of them had Athena in the scene, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” You beamed, stepping closer to the man you’d missed dearly, “I’m so sorry for the way I left. What I said was cruel and untrue. You aren’t selfish, and I can’t blame you for something you couldn’t control.”

Bobby grinned. He’d stepped around his desk only to halt when he took in an undeniable development—the baby bump you carried.

“Is-”

“I’m pregnant. Six months along with a baby girl.” You laughed to the apparent disbelief in your father’s light brown eyes. His gaze continued to shift between the bump and your e/c eyes.

“Wow. Sorry, this is...wow.” 

“She’s one of the reasons I wanted to come back. To fix our relationship because I want her to know her grandpa. You’re the only grandparent Poppy will know.” Bobby was quick to tug you into his arms as soon as the first tear dropped down your cheek.

There was so much you wanted to tell your father, but that overwhelming grief rose higher. You’d left Australia where Lucas laid in a plot in a cemetery. You left the friends you’d found in the city. Left the lifeguard job you’d come to love.

“Where are you and your partner staying?”

“He...uh...Lucas passed away recently.”

The arms holding you tightened in response to your confession, “Oh sweetheart.”

“I didn’t know where else to go. I can’t stay in the home we bought. Not the place he died when I couldn’t save him.”

“I don’t know what happened, but it wasn’-”

“Don’t coddle me. I was...am a paramedic. A flight paramedic, to be specific, so I know that my hesitation could be the reason he died.”

Your career took the father by complete and utter surprise because you’d always planned on a different job. Before the fire that claimed so many lives, you’d never entertained a career in the emergency field.

“We have a lot to catch up on. First, you need to know that I’ll always love your mother no matter what, but you need to know. I met someone when I first moved here, and we were friends at first. She divorced her husband. We started dating...sweetheart, I remarried.”

A wave of emotions flared in your chest, from betrayal to sadness and ultimately happiness. Having lost your first love, you understood and knew if love came around for you, you wouldn’t ignore it. Lucas wouldn’t want that.

“I can’t wait to meet her.”

Re-entering into Bobby’s new life was a difficult adjustment for everyone included. Tension had risen between Athena and Bobby for a brief period. Athena hadn’t even been aware of your existence, but she could fault Bobby. Athena had even told her first husband about her late fiance Emmett when they were still together.

It was difficult for you with the new addition of two step-siblings in the same birth order as Brook and Bobby had been. The Grant siblings had welcomed you into the family without any reservations.

“Did you ever get to fly the chopper?” Harry asked as he scrubbed the dirty dish from the Sunday family dinner. 

It was the first dinner that had no awkward tension since you arrived back in the country. Athena had taken a bit to warm up, but it was nothing personal. She’d actually been the one to find you you’d been staying at a hotel. Mama Athena did not like her pregnant step-daughter living at a hotel. She’d actually stormed your room with Hen and Karen as back up to pack your room and leave for the Grant-Nash house.

“No. I had to help keep the patients alive. If I’m telling the truth...sometimes I didn’t even notice I was in the air.” You whispered to your stepbrother. He was just invested in your career as he had been when Bobby first entered their lives.

“That is so cool!” Harry enthused with soap suds splashing your thin knitted sweater. Harry’s mouth formed an ‘o’ when you flicked water onto his face in retaliation.

“Do you know Bondi Beach in Australia?” You inquired the youth with the chore of dishes completed.

“Yeah! There’s a tv show called Bondi Rescue! I watch the clips on YouTube!” Harry exclaimed, hot on your heels to the couch. Out of May and Harry, he followed you around with questions about your life in Australia.

“I was a casual lifeguard. I’m not featured on that show, but I would get called in when a lifeguard was needed. It paired well with my job as a flight paramedic.” You half-smiled, remembering the Bondi lifeguards who had welcomed you into the family. You became one of them when they started pranking you.

“Did you ever see a shark-”

“Harry, go brush your teeth. Leave Y/N alone.” Athena informed her youngest from the open patio doors. Your father, Athena and May had been outside as soon as the table had been cleared.

“But-”

“Harry,” Athena warned the youngest Grant. Harry didn’t attempt to argue with his stern mother; all he did was hug you quickly. You watched the young boy disappear into the hallway.

“He reminds you of your little brother?” Athena questioned. In your time of reminiscing, the older woman had settled in Harry’s previous position.

“A little.” You whispered, “Thank you for welcoming me into the family. For making my dad happy.”

“You know I may have some baby clothes put away if you’d like to use them?” Athena offered with that smile that made you feel at home. Athena was far different from your late mother, with her presence commanding respect and intelligence. Your mom was similar, but I suppose it could be described as a softer touch.

“Anyway, saving a penny is appreciated. I have a question for you also.” You hesitantly started with a bundle of nerves deep in your belly. Athena turned to give you her full attention.

“Well? Out with it.” Athena pushed, but she had a slight feeling of what you were about to ask her.

“My mom was one the strongest women I know. It hurts that my baby won’t get to experience her love and guidance, and you can say no. We’ve only known each other a short time, but would you consider...maybe being a grandma to my baby?”

Giddy was the feeling Athena developed along with the laughing smile that only came from happiness. The woman could only nod her head in response to your hesitant question. To Athena’s knowledge but not yours, Bobby was softly smiling, watching his formerly estranged daughter getting along with your stepmom.

“Oh!” You gasped as your baby kicked hard enough for her foot imprint to be seen through your knitted sweater. 

Bobby was by your side in concern the second he heard your startled sound, but Athena wasn’t that concerned. Athena remembered having the same reaction.

“Are you okay?” Bobby frantically questioned. He faltered when the woman shared a belly-deep laugh at the sheer fear written in the seasoned firefighter’s eyes.

“Poppy was kicking.” You chuckled as your father’s shoulders dropped in relief, “Here.”

Your nimble fingers clasped around your father’s wrist to bring his palm to the spot Poppy was kicking. A certain lightness flooded your entire body, being capable of sharing this experience with Bobby. Watching tears well up in the grandpa to be’s brown eyes.

“Whoa.” Bobby breathlessly spoke as Poppy kicked against his palm. The feeling building in his was exhilarating with the small amount of grief mixed in, “I remember when your mom was pregnant with you. We didn’t know if we were having a girl or boy, but she was adamant you would be a kickboxer. So active.”

Athena watched as the relationship between father and daughter started healing directly in front of her eyes. The Sergeant was about to give you two some privacy when you caught her hand in your free one.

“Here.” You informed the older woman shifting to place her hand where your father’s hand had previously been. Your e/c eyes sought the wonder-filled different shades of brown eyes the couple had.

“You should get some sleep,” Athena spoke, staring at her hand resting on your bump. Her dark chocolate brown rising to find your gaze, “You won’t be getting a lot once she arrives.”

Bobby and Athena watched as you turned the corner to the spare room Athena’s parents used when they visited. For the time being, you’ve moved into the room, and the Grant-Nash house hoped you would stay. May had always wanted a sister, and Harry loved all the stories you told about Australia.

“You know, at some point, you’ll have to talk to her.”

“I just was-’

“-without anyone else being the buffer. Bobby, both your lives is evidence enough that some things are too trivial to stress over.” Athena pinned her stern gaze on her husband. The same husband is actively trying to avoid her penetrating gaze.

“What I did-’

“Is in the past, Bobby. You have a second chance with that wonderful woman in that bedroom and our grandchild. Now, are you sure that having the party at the firehouse is okay?”

A hand supported the base of your back where an ache tended to stay for most of the day. That ache wasn’t the worst symptom of your pregnancy. You had heartburn constantly that tied with unfortunate constipation that had thankfully lessened. Your purse always had a cardigan for the hot flashes as well.

“Perfect! May has my car, and Bobby needed that.” Athena beamed from the open bay of the 118. One of the firefighters, Eddie, if you recalled, snagged your purse and the specific ingredient for a recipe.

“You could have borrowed Bobby’s-”

“His vehicle is in the shop Buck.” Athena interrupted the only member of the 118 you had let to officially meet.

Now there were two suspects of the sudden shortness of breath you started experiencing. It could be Poppy in the limited space in your body or the handsome firefighter. Buck had to be hands down none of the most attractive men you’d ever encountered. His dark blonde hair had minimal height, but the soft waves made your fingers itch to feel it. His ocean blue eyes crinkled at the corners with mirth.

“Ah, so you’re flesh and blood of Cap?” Buck questioned from in front of you. His blue eyes centred solely on you, with half a mind thanking himself that he could navigate the station blindfolded in the dark.

“For the last twenty-seven years, I have been.” You retorted, stopping at the edge of the stairs to the apparatus. Your keen sense of smell catching one of your favourite meals your father had dug up from the recipes he hadn’t used in years.

A zing of electricity trailed off your arm when a calloused palm met yours. Your e/c eyes followed the path of tan skin until it reached the shirt sleeve of Buck’s t-shirt. The shirt emblazoned on the chest with the department’s insignia. The man in the casual uniform guided you safely up the stairs with his hand on your back.

The pressure of Buck’s hand on your aching back muscle nearly brought what would be an embarrassing moan from your lips. Thankfully a gasp of surprise fell out instead at the banner hanging with other decorations.

“What?” You choked, cupping your hands to your face. Pure unadulterated shock and affection flooded every inch of you.

The entire 118 squad intermixed with their loved ones surrounded the open area with grins. On a table behind everyone was many wrapped gifts. But the cake was the most impressive.

A large rectangular cake in the realistic shape of a fire engine parked in front of a fire hydrant with a fondant hose going to the truck. On top of the fire truck was the turnout boots next to the matching helmet, the 118 proudly on it. You adored the turnout coat draping off the top to hang off the side.

“If you look at the helmet, it says Poppy.” Buck enthused, guiding you even closer to catch the immaculate cake, “It has to be the best cake we’ve gotten from them.”

“Hey, my rebar head cake was phenomenal!” Chimney called with a belying grin on his face. His hand encased by a brunette woman about his height with her heels on.

“It’s a long story.” Buck offered as soon as you gave him a weird questioning look, “Let me introduce you to everyone!”

For the next five minutes, you spend it by meeting the family of 118, including Eddie’s completely adorable son. Christopher was happy to sit next to you as soon as Harry had found you. Slowly the others came closer to hear the stories.

“What’re the most common injuries on the beach?” Denny, Hen and Karen’s ten-year-old son questioned.

“Bluebottle Jellyfish stings. On one day, we had hundreds of people come to the tower for stings, and the treatment for the minor ones is stingose spray and ice.”

“My question is how a girl from Minnesota is a lifeguard in Australia. Especially on Sydney’s most dangerous beach.” Chimney inserted, waving his bottle of pop at you, his eyes kept moving towards the wine Maddie brought.

Unfortunately, the 118 wouldn’t be celebrating with the wine until their shifts ended in a few short hours. It was a damn miracle they hadn’t been called out yet.

“This former Minnesotan spent summers at my best friend’s parents’ place in Cali as a lifeguard. Also, Bondi is not the most dangerous beach in Sydney. That’s Tamarama.” You pointed towards the man who raised his hands in surrender.

“Have you ever seen a dead body?” Harry asked, bringing a sobering silence in the question’s wake.

Your body language changed as soon as he asked, “Unfortunately, I’ve seen death as a paramedic and as a lifeguard.”

“You’re a paramedic? I thought you were just a lifeguard?” Buck asked, interested in the new information. Buck could feel his Captain’s eyes on the back of his head; he was sure Bobby could smell the attraction on Buck.

“Casual lifeguard. Called when needed as a backup.” You turned your e/c eyes towards the arguably youngest member of the 118.

“How many dead-”

“Harry.” Athena warned her son from continuing a topic that killed the ease and happiness you’d shown previously, “Why don’t we stop talking about-”

“Too many, Harry.” You interrupted your stepmom with a gentle smile towards the woman, “It’s not just drowning that claims lives but also the cliffs surrounding the beaches. Lifeguards patrol more than the beaches and water. Lifeguards respond to medical emergencies, mostly spinal until the paramedics arrive.”

“Oh-”

“I had a fellow lifeguard leave the job because of the suicides we deal with.”

“...who wants cake?” Karen used the quiet interlude of the much too serious topic for a group of kids barely in the double digits of ages. All referenced children followed Hen’s life to the beautiful baked creation.

“Sorry for getting dark there.”

“We all know the dark side of the jobs we chose to do. You sound like you miss Australia. Are you going to return there?” Eddie questioned with one eye pinned on his son, consuming more sugar than he wished.

Eddie’s question did raise self-doubt, but you knew that ultimately living in Australia was no longer a viable option. 

“There’s nothing there for me.”

Eddie, Buck and your father understood that mentality to a ‘t’ with family complications keeping them away. Your father for obvious reasons, whereas Eddie and Buck each had a living family with opinions only they saw right.

“You’re always welcome here. Especially when you bring that little cutie to the firehouse.” Maddie cooed towards your baby bump. The 911 dispatcher had asked many questions about your pregnancy.

 Maddie was the type of person who could make a stranger feel like they had known for their entire lives.

“Here.”

A plate of the cake was thrust in front of your face courtesy of Maddie’s brother Buck. It is quite literally the perfect size you could ask for. In his other hand, he had a new bottle of water waiting for you to grab.

“Thank you, Buck.” Your shock must have shown in your voice when his cheeks flushed.

“This whole party is a celebration for you, so you shouldn’t have to get up...unless you want to!” Buck rushed to respond, getting more flustered with the amused look of his older sister on him, “You’re already doing something absolutely amazing, so you should get to rela-”

“Buck!” You laughed, ending the older man’s rambling thoughts. The entire party attendees had started watching Buck’s failed smooth attempt.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Buck mutely nodded in response, “No prob-”

The bell was the one to interrupt him instead. The on-duty firefighters rushed down from the upper levels to the lockers. The swift suiting up impressed you as it was like you blinked, and the bay was empty.

“Should be the last call before they get off shift.” Maddie, still occupied with the cake she was eating, “That wine looks so good!”

Your attention snapped from the vacant spots the 118 vehicles parked to the woman ploughing down on the cake. Sure it was good, but not that good. Maybe you could tell as a pregnant woman, or perhaps you just caught some of the symptoms you felt.

“How far along are you?”

Maddie froze, “What are you talk-”

“You’re pregnant, right?”

“Don’t tell anyone. Chim and I found out recently, but we want to wait on telling people. Once the first trimester is over, everyone can know.” Maddie pleaded with two hands cupped under her chin in a prayer position. The pretty brunette using the puppy dog eyes on the new friend she’d made.

“You should tell Buck-”

“We will once we enter the safe zone. So tell me about your baby’s father.” Maddie swiftly changed the subject, unaware of the ache developing in your midsection.

“Lucas Gowan.” You mussed, recalling the freckled half Australian half Scots man with the thick red locks.

“Ooh, is he still in Australia?”

“Technically, he is. I met him at the grocery store near the university campus. I’d transferred to escape my grief. It was purely an attraction at first sight before developing into love at first sight. We convocated and moved into a cosy little place. We’d only just found out about the baby when Lucas passed away.”

As you told Maddie, your hand had moved to cradle the only remaining piece of Lucas. 

“His death was unexpected and sudden. He’d taken a run the morning of our scan to find out baby Gowan’s gender. He fell off the side of the cliff. I was told he died instantly. The investigator believes his shoelace untied, and he stepped on it. Fell right off the side.”

“I’m so sorry.” Maddie breathed, leaning closer to hold your hands in her own, “He’d be so proud of you. For returning to the states. Do you keep in contact with his family?”

“He was an only child. Parents died in a car accident when he was ten years old. He was in foster care until he aged out of the system. Poppy is named after his mom.”

Maddie instinctively knew talking about Lucas was, “You know you get along pretty well with Buck... I’ve never seen him so flustered.”

“Maddie, I can tell you are a very intelligent woman, but you’re wrong here. Why would a guy like Buck be interested in a pregnant woman with a reconciling relationship with her father and his Captain while grieving her baby’s dad?”

Maddie tilted her head to the side, “Because I know my brother. He’s only ever had that look when I first moved to LA. Back when Abby was still important to him.”

“We’ll just have to agree to disagree.”

Maddie’s mouth opened to speak, but you were saved by the bell when Athena called you over for pictures. Then her attempts got thwarted once more when the 118 returned to the house perfectly synced to the end of shift.

“Driving here was the last time until the baby’s here. You’ve got precious cargo-”

“I’m seven months pregnant; I can still drive. There’s no law saying I can’t-”

Never argue with Athena Grant-Nash, “It may not be illegal, but I won’t endanger my daughter or my granddaughter.”

“I have to get to my OB/GYN appointment tomorrow. You and Dad each have a long shift during my scheduled appointment. Harry is both too young to drive and in school. May has a shift at dispatch. There’s literally no one available to take me.”

Bobby watched as two of the most important women in his life argued over something as trivial as driving. Harry shook at listening to someone fighting against his mother; she could be terrifying.

“I can take her.”

Everyone in the fir house turned to the voice who’d offered suddenly and found the sheepish form of a tall firefighter. Eddie’s eyebrows raised at his best friend.

“I don’t work tomorrow. I’ve got no plans. Albert’s got some date with a girl at her place.”

“I couldn’t put you out.”

“You need a ride, and I’ll be bored, so why not take my new friend to her baby doctor.”

“Baby doctor?” Hen parroted to her wife in astonishment towards her coworker and close friend. Both the women found the blatant flirting from Buck to the soon to be mother.

“She’ll take you up on the offer. She’s staying in our guest room. Come early for breakfast before you go. We’ll be having waffles.”

Buck found any excuse to visit the Grant-Nash home with the motive to hang out with you ever since the baby shower. From delivering baked goods from your favourite bakery to insisting on driving you to appointments. Didn’t matter if Athena or Bobby could take you; Buck was adamant he drove you.

The friendship was easy going and very natural, like a ball glove still moulded perfectly to your hand. The hangouts in your home evolved to weekly visits to restaurants with guidelines to the current event happening worldwide. 

Ultimately it even led to a test date.

“You look breathtaking.” Buck breathlessly informed you once he’d gently pushed your chair closer to the table.

“Thank you.” You kindly responded despite thinking the complete opposite to the charming man sitting across from you.

Athena and May had helped you get ready for the date with calming words on how going on a date so far into the pregnancy was okay. Then, your father had tentatively inserted himself with sage advice on re-entering the dating scene.

“I thought we could grab some ice cream after,” Buck spoke up as soon as the waiter had taken your drink order. Buck had decided to refrain from alcohol and went with glasses of lemonade and water.

“You shouldn’t say that. I’ll just want ice cream.” You snickered, caressing the taut belly you’d grown to love. In fact, the firm push of a heel announced Poppy’s agreement with ice cream as dessert.

“How is Poppy?”

“The doc says she’s right on track. Healthy all around and in the position, she’s supposed to be at this stage.” Buck adored the affectionate smile that always appeared when the topic of your pregnancy was brought up.

“That’s amazing! Bobby gushes about you and Poppy. The fridge has an entire door dedicated to sonograms of Poppy. Even a few from that maternity shoot Hen and Maddie surprised you with.”

A few weeks had passed since the baby shower the 118 had surprised you with. Maddie had announced her pregnancy to the joy of the chosen family she had. Bobby had put together a crib he had painted. Michael, Athena’s ex-husband, had started making plans for adding on to the house for a room for the baby.

Despite informing the architect, you planned on moving out when you had saved enough, he’d made a sound argument. Athena would want a place for the baby to stay when you visited, or the woman demanded to babysit.

Now you found yourself in a National forest not far from Los Angeles, posing in front of nature. A surprise photoshoot Hen and Karen had organized with Karen’s brother Trey. Maddie and Athena had been the ones who drove you.

“Hold the teddy bear on your bump,” Trey informed you from behind his professional and intimidating camera. The photographer praised you in the rapid movement to listen to his offer.

“Hey! Maddie! You should take a few photos. I need a pee break.” You didn’t wait for Maddie to respond in your rush to the somewhat rustic bathroom hut.

By the time you returned, Maddie was taking a couple pictures. Then you took some with Athena to have on the nursery walls and for Bobby to have a photo for his desk.

“Now one with all three of you.”

Present

“So a daredevil.” You stated unsurprised that the firefighter had a history of recklessness. You don’t go into firefighting without a taste for danger.

“The bruises and blood fit better than the awful bleached hair during my time in Peru.” Buck laughed, recalling the questionable choice in his fashion pre-firefighting. Sometimes he missed the people he encountered in his period of self-discovery.

“You didn’t wear puka sh-”

“I did. Bleached hair, puka shells and Hawaiian shirts were my staples during my bartending years. I fit in with the aesthetic of the bar I tended.”

“Buck!” You nearly gasped at his raw honesty. Buck didn’t hold back any answers to your questions, but you each strayed from the topic of family.

Talking about the tragic family history wasn’t a good idea on the first time regardless of the time you’d known each other.

“You’re telling me-” Buck halted as soon as he caught the flash of discomfort flicker over your beautiful features, “Are you okay?”

“She shifted. Been sitting on my blad-” You cut yourself off with a hiss of pain. Buck’s eyes widened at the pain taking over your features, “Oh, that hurt.”

Buck went straight into work mode, “Have you been in pain for long?”

“No. A few cramps here and there today, but my doctor said it was nothing to worry about.” You informed the experienced first responder resting level to your knees.

Buck didn’t want to say it, but he was sure that you’d gone into early labour. There was no indication your water had broken, but he kept over the last hour together. Every once in a while, you shifted or pressed a hand to your bump.

“Has your water broken?”

You shook your head, “No, but...oh... that’s not a cramp.”

With that statement out, you clenched your fingers tight on the edge of the table as pain rippled in your belly. A contraction that stole your breath momentarily. In your contraction, Buck had dialled 911. Buck recalled that sometimes a woman’s water doesn't break until right before the birth.

“We’re not getting that ice cream, are we?” You snorted upon being lifted onto the gurney. How fortunate or unfortunate you were to have the 118 right there.

Hen had taken a position at your feet to check on your lower body while Chimney took your vital signs. You honestly didn’t like the look Hen and Chimney shared with Buck.

“What is it?”

“We’re gonna need to deliver here.” Hen sighed, giving you the facts that terrified you. When you envisioned having the baby, it was in a medical centre. Not in a restaurant.

“My office is large and away from the crowd if you want. I can show you the way.” Sophie, the restaurant manager, offered already starting to lead the way. Sophie would never know how thankful you felt for being able to have privacy.

“Okay, Y/N, is it okay if I check how dilated you -.” Hen breathed with her hand, gently disappearing until the thin blanket Chimney procured from the stocked ambulance, “Y/N when I saw I want you to do that.”

Hen didn’t need to check your dilation when she could see the baby’s head already.

“I’m right here.” Buck cooed in your ear. He had held your hand as his coworkers did their jobs around you.

“This isn’t the way I envisioned you seeing my pu-”

“Push.” Hen urged, cutting off your almost vulgar language, but it eased the tension in the small restaurant office. You couldn’t even see Buck’s flustered reaction as you bore down with the contraction, “Good! Take a breath.”

“You’re a strong woman. It never ceases to amaze me the strength women have.” Buck spoke, keeping your e/c eyes on his blue ones. His hand raised to push a strand of your sweaty hair off your temple.

“Once more push!” Hen called out just in time with the last contraction. The feeling of the pressure between your legs popping was moan inducing.

Poppy was silent. Your entire body froze, yearning for the sweet sound of crying instead of the eerie silence. The world stood still as Chimney worked on your baby girl.

“Pulse is strong,” Chimney announced, keeping his attention on the task of clearing Poppy’s throat and nose. And that sweet sound of crying commenced, “Congratulations Y/N, you have a beautiful baby girl. Let’s get you to the hospital.”

Your father beat the ambulance to the nearest ER in pure anticipation at meeting his granddaughter Poppy Nash Gowan. He barely noticed as Buck stuck to your side like glue. Bobby waited outside the door as you got checked over in the room.

“Quite the first date.” You mused towards Buck, who hovered in awe over the life form you had carried for nine months. You’d been pregnant for three quarters of an entire year to his fascination. 

“All my meaningful relationships started with a medical emergency.” Buck finally looked up at you. He’d kept Poppy company in the bassinet while you delivered the afterbirth upon entering the hospital.

“Seriously?”

“Had a tracheostomy on Valentine’s Day with Abby, an earthquake with Ali and a newscaster in a crashed helicopter.” Buck listed off. He hadn’t even noticed scooping the newborn into his arms until he’d sat in the chair by your bed, “Why not add a sudden labour and delivery.”

“He would have liked you.”

The sentence came out of absolutely nowhere. Almost like something had ripped it out of your vocal cords. At the look of confusion, you elaborated.

“Lucas. He would have liked you. I think if it is possible, he might have pushed me into meeting you. I’ll still need to take it slow, but I’d like to give this a shot.”

That was all Buck needed to lean in closer to kiss you—the first of many kisses.

Some might disagree on how quick your relationship with Buck developed, but they didn’t know yours at all. It was natural with the firefighter who stepped into the role of father figure for a growing Poppy. By the time Poppy was one, you’d moved into a house not far from your father’s place with Buck. By the time Poppy was three, a pretty ring had sat on your finger. By five, the young girl had a baby brother. 

“Your parents spoil Poppy.”

“You say that like you didn’t crawl into her crib during her afternoon naps.” You deadpanned towards your husband. Buck had the nerve to sheepishly grin, “You give in each time she says ‘pwetty pwease’ for a cookie.”

“It’s a crime to make her sad!” Buck defended himself, but a grin of amusement threatened his act, “Besides, you crack each time too!”

“Mhm. Just wait until Theo can talk.” You pressed a kiss to the sleeping infant strapped into the baby carrier. Theodore Robert Buckley could fall asleep in a thunderstorm if he was in Buck’s arms.

“Oh! Maddie wants to have Poppy over for a play date. Madster’s been begging for her cousin to have a sleepover.”

Maddie and Chimney’s daughter was only a few months younger than your daughter, but the two were thick as thieves. Buck had referred to the Han daughter as Madster with how similar her mannerisms were to her mother.

“Think they’d take the rascal?”

“Is this code for you wanting to have another?” Buck questioned with a twinkle of mischief in his blue eyes. The same blue Theo had inherited along with a birthmark like Buck’s on his bicep.

“I-” You choked, blinking furiously, “Evan, I pushed Theo out of my body barely three months ago!”

Buck inconspicuously winked in response with the sudden scream of excitement coming from Poppy. The rambunctious five-year-old ploughed into Buck’s legs full force. Falling into the practised ease, you’d unstrapped Theo from Buck’s chest and promptly had his tiny body stolen into his grandpa’s arms.

“There’s my boy.” Bobby cooed to the sleep drunk tiny infant. The little baby is crowded by his Gram Athena and Aunt May, “Gonna have to get you a Minnesota Wilds jersey.”

“Hell no. That boy is LA born and bred. He’ll be wearing a Kings jersey like the civilized.” Michael announced with the sudden arrival of Theo and Poppy’s Uncle Harry.

“Mommy? When are we going to Stralia?” Poppy inquired from right beside your leg. Her tiny handheld is the giant one of her dad.

“In a few weeks. Are you excited to see the mommy’s old friends again?”

“Hm. Can we see Dada?”

Buck may be Poppy’s father, but he’d never let Poppy go without knowing she had two fathers in all. Her first one waiting to meet here decades from the time she was born and solely referenced Lucas as Dada. Buck was grateful for the man who brought Poppy into existence; the little green-eyed tot Buck could never regret. Unlike Buck’s parents keeping his older brother’s existence a secret, the firefighter refused to follow in their footsteps. He’d continue to shower the late Lucas in gratitude and respect. He refused to make the same mistakes as Phillip and Margaret Buckley.

“Of course. C’mon Poppy, time to say goodbye.” Buck guided the little girl to the extended family showering her little brother with love. The little girl was quickly swung into Bobby’s arms, and Athena cooing at your infant son.

Changes. The six-letter word doesn’t have to be terrifying. It can be breathtaking, memorable and beautiful to experience. 

Tag List(s):  (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!)

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[dinogoose]

something is off, i can’t explain

buddie | chapter 1/5 | 1361 words

An accident at work leaves Buck in a coma. It also leaves his soul outside of his body.

(or, a ridiculous ‘ghost’ buck story with a twist)

Fire.

Fire is where it all begins, and where it seemingly ends for Buck and his life. If you asked him, he would tell you he became human the day he joined the 118. It was his entire life. His team is his family, and even with everything they’d been through, they were always going to be. While the entirety of the 118 are Buck’s family, his people are Eddie and Chris. Eddie and Chris are tethered to his soul. They complete him, and he would be nothing without them. He loves them.

So in a strange sense, he had fire to thank for all of these things, but with all the good, comes the bad.

-

The call was routine, ask anyone, they will tell you it was completely normal. Everything should’ve been fine. Bobby tells them it’s a fire at an office building, two people are still inside. The 118 arrives on scene, Bobby assigns Hen and Chimney to triage, and has Eddie and Buck go in to search for anyone still inside.

Things are still perfectly standard as Eddie and Buck go inside. The fire roars, but it hasn’t spread enough for them to be worried. Buck hears the victims first, calling out to Eddie. He finds both of them hunched under a desk, but uninjured. Eddie rounds the corner and they both help the victims up.

It should’ve been so simple. Get up and get out. They found the missing people, and could see the exit. So why did everything go wrong so quickly?

Just as they approach the exit, Eddie in front, aiding one of the victims, with Buck behind him helping the other, Bobby’s voice comes in over the radio.

Get out now, the building’s unstable!

This causes both men to walk a little faster, Buck sees Eddie cross the threshold, making it safely. Then he hears an ominous creek he knows too well. He shoves the second victim so she can make it out before the inevitable happens. Just as he watches her stumble out, watches Eddie staring at him eyes wide and filled with fear, he sees the roof fall. Collapsing right onto him.

Pain, so much pain, then,

Nothing.

-

Beep, beep, beep.

God, waking up in hospitals is Buck’s least favorite thing, the annoying beeping, the sterile smell, the overall sadness of it all, and the pain he feels every time. Except, as he’s coming to, he doesn’t feel anything. Like zero pain, zero discomfort, he doesn’t even feel hungry. Which okay… maybe they gave him really good drugs, but something feels off.

He hears soft cries that he would recognize anywhere. Peeling his eyes open he looks around. It’s his sister, who he’s hurting by being here. He reaches out to comfort her, let her know he’s fine, everything’s going to be okay, but once he reaches her, his hand passes right through.

What?

He does it again for good measure. Nothing. It just goes right through her, like he’s a ghost. Oh my god, is he a ghost?

“Maddie?” He calls out. She doesn’t react, she just keeps quietly sobbing into the hospital bed.

He decides to get off the bed, sitting up he swings his legs off and lands on steady feet. He spins around and immediately sees… himself?

It’s him obviously, he knows what he looks like, but he’s him and he’s standing up. But this Buck is hooked up to machines, lying down. Covered in bruises and scratches. He looks dead. But he’s not dead, he’s right here. He reaches out to touch himself, but again it passes right through.

Okay so he’s a ghost. Or maybe not a ghost because his body is still technically alive. Come ghost? Coma ghost. He begins pacing back and forth. How can he come back? Is he just his soul? How could he do this to his family?

He’s feeling an overwhelming amount of things at once, but mostly he feels guilty. Guilt, for causing his family to go through this, just because he’s a reckless idiot. Even though this time was just an accident, he swears he wasn’t trying to play hero. God what does he even do-

His spiral is interrupted by Chimney walking in.

He looks awful, his eyes are red-rimmed, shoulders hunched, and he just looks tired. Chimney places a hand on Maddie’s shoulder, whispering something Buck can’t quite make out. She turns facing him and he wraps his arms around her, letting her cry onto him.

Buck turns away, feeling like he’s intruding on this personal moment. Eventually Maddie’s cries die down and she turns back to Coma-Buck. She kisses his forehead and says,

“I love you. I’ll see you soon Evan.” This springs tears into Ghost-Buck’s eyes. He hates that he’s causing her pain, especially since he’s right here! At least his essence is. He watches her and Chimney leave.

He searches the room for a clock, just so he can try and figure out how long it’s been since the accident. Finally he finds one, it reads, 12:01 pm.

Nearly 12 hours since the accident. He hasn’t woken up, and his physical body is on a ventilator. This sends him into a spiral. He tries to look around the room for more information, desperately attempting to find out what happened, what went wrong. It should’ve been so simple.

Eventually he tires out. Or not tires; because he’s a ghost, but he just wants to give up. He plops down onto one of the chairs in the corner of the room, and just stares at himself.

Twenty minutes later (he knows because he’s been looking at the clock obsessively) an exhausted looking Bobby walks in. He occupies the chair Maddie was in no too long ago, and takes Buck’s hand. Ghost-Buck feels his own hand tingle at the sensation.

“I’m so sorry, kid. I should’ve done more- called out sooner- seen something was wrong. I’m sorry.” Bobby tells him, his voice trembling, sending Buck years back to Bobby’s old apartment.

Bobby is blaming himself for Buck’s accident. Which is completely absurd. No one could’ve stopped the roof collapsing. They needed to get the victims out, so either way someone would’ve been inside rescuing them. None of this is anyone’s fault but especially not Bobby’s. Buck wishes he could tell him that.

“The two victims made it out safely. Only injuries were smoke inhalation. God Buck, I wish you weren’t always here. Always getting hurt” Bobby scrubs a hand over his face, and takes a few deep breaths.

“I’ve got a shift, but I’ll be back afterwards. We love you Buck, please wake up for us.” Bobby stands and walks out, casting one glance back before he’s gone.

Buck is fully crying, these strange phantom tears. He feels horrible for making Bobby feel like this. For making them all feel like this. He just wants to wake up, be in his own body, and be there for his team. His family.

Just a few moments later someone new enters. Someone Buck is connected to on every level. Who is with him in his brain, soul and heart every moment. Eddie.

If Buck thought Bobby looked bad, then Eddie looks devastating. His hair is a mess, he’s covered in soot and blood. He’s still in his uniform twelve hours later, clearly showing he hasn’t left the hospital. Buck can’t see his face because he’s looking directly at the ground, even as he approaches the bed.

Sitting down, he still doesn’t say a single word. Buck feels completely on edge, just watching this man who he loves. Eddie grips the bed, takes a shuddering breath, and cries. Unlike Maddie’s cries, his are more of a silent sob. One you could only see if you were watching him. Buck wishes he could do something to comfort him. He shouldn’t be crying over Buck, Buck doesn’t deserve that.

“I’m so sorry Eddie.” Buck says. He knows Eddie can’t hear him but he needs to do something, say something, because this is killing him. Instead of not reacting like Maddie did earlier, Eddie turns to face Ghost-Buck and says,

“Buck?”

(hope you enjoyed. let me know what you think so far!)

[tripleaxeldiaz]

you’re my living proof my love is alive

for @eddiediaz HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAY <33

read on ao3

“Did you ever think we’d get here?”

Eddie opens his eyes, the shade of the tree they’re under saving him from an assault of sunlight. He’d been dozing off and on, lulled by the warm day and the soft breeze and Buck’s fingers raking through his hair where his head rested on his lap. But something about Buck’s voice — not a sadness, not an edge, but something — wakes him up fully, and he rolls onto his back to look up at Buck’s face. He follows where Buck’s eyes have landed — on their family, spread out around them, absorbed in their own conversations while kids flit in and around them like over excited butterflies. He’s looking at them wistfully and in some sort of awe, and Eddie waits for him to elaborate.

“To the park?” he asks slowly when it looks like an explanation isn’t coming. “It’s like a 10 minute drive from our house.”

Buck tugs his ear, fighting and losing to the smile spreading on his face. “No, asshole. I mean all of this. Our family. You and me. Did you ever imagine we’d get a life like this?”

The breeze seems to blow a little cooler as Eddie takes that in, because honestly? No. All of this, the joy that he’s found here, is brighter and better than anything he ever let himself dream about.

And it’s not that he never thought he’d be happy or filled with some kind of lightness. It just wasn’t a priority — not when he had a team to lead or a marriage to try and fail to fix or a kid to take care of on his own. Everything and everyone else came first because those were things he could handle, tangible things with some kind of concrete solutions, the direct opposite of the amorphous, unreachable discomfort that always seemed to sit right at the base of his skull. And there were moments of joy, especially with Christopher — his smile, his laugh, the way he lit up at any opportunity to learn something new. Those were good moments, great moments, and Eddie treasured all of them, locking them up tight in his heart because they were sometimes the only things that got him through the day.

But still. No matter what, at the end of the day, he’d find himself in bed, surrounded by silence, fighting off the aching loneliness that grew stronger as the sun went down. Only then would he let himself indulge — he’d imagine a dip in the mattress next to him, warm skin begging for his touch, craving that feeling of being wanted by someone else despite the demons and nightmares that still haunted him.

He doesn’t really know if it made the loneliness better or worse.

Moving to LA helped — a fresh start for both of them, more opportunities, no one hovering over his every move waiting to swoop in the minute he made a mistake. He felt lighter, excited even, like maybe now things would actually turn around for him, like maybe he was ready to fill that space that sat in his heart. Maybe Shannon coming back was a sign that she was supposed to fill it the whole time, just like he thought when they were 19.

But then she left, permanently, just as quickly as she came, and suddenly he wasn’t sure of anything his heart or soul was telling him anymore.

So he threw himself back into what he knew best — being there for everyone else. Whether at work or with Chris, his focus was solely on the outside, ignoring any pangs of longing or indulgences because they didn’t matter. A person could only survive so many broken hearts in their lives, and he’s certain that watching the life fade out of Shannon’s eyes with no way of stopping it was the last one he’d be able to handle. It wasn’t a waste, this focusing on other people, and he wasn’t unhappy — how could he be when he had the best kid, the best friend, the best family that he’d cobbled together for himself, that had saved him time and again without even knowing it?

The loneliness lingered, though. It wrestled with the fear he felt so hard sometimes it blew the breath right out of his lungs. He thought he did an okay job of hiding it until Bobby sat him down and told him it was okay to move on, that it was okay to want to let someone in, to not carry the burdens on his own anymore. And he knew that, rationally, but that wasn’t the problem.

The problem was that in the moments when his resolve cracked, his indulgences were no longer faceless. They had broad shoulders and strong arms, a halo of curls and eyes so blue they put the ocean to shame. 

The problem was that this person was real and solid, an unshakeable presence in his and Chris’ world who smoothed out creases and stitched up tears in a way that was helpful, not in a way that made Eddie feel guilty for letting things get creased in the first place.

The problem was that the person his stupid, lonely heart had let in, without his consent, without him even noticing, was the person he knew would shatter his heart into a billion, unrepairable pieces if he ever lost him. 

So he settled instead. 

He found someone who was nice and low maintenance and good with Chris and it was enough. Or almost enough. Or as close to enough as he felt he deserved.

He feels another tug at his ear. “Did I lose you? Pretty sure your eyes just glazed over for like two minutes.”

Nothing he does gets past Buck, that’s for sure, and the knowledge of that warms him better than the sunshine. He reaches up and threads their fingers together, kissing the back of Buck’s hand before resting both on his chest, over his heart. He sighs, eyes slipping closed again. “Sorry. Zoned out for a second.”

“And forgot my question,” Buck says, squeezing his hand. “So did you? Imagine this? Or something like it, I guess.”

He’s better with words than he used to be, can be straightforward with his feelings without breaking out into a cold sweat. But still, these words stick, because years and countless therapy sessions later, he knows exactly how deep the darkness went back then, and he hates thinking about it. Hates remembering the full body ache of loneliness, how dull and bleak it made everything seem.

But also, he can’t — won’t — lie to Buck, and he’s warm enough now, surrounded by sunlight and laughter and Buck’s hand on his chest, that he’s not worried about being pulled under again.

“No,” he finally says. “I didn’t let myself think about anything like this for a really long time. But when I finally did, it was never as good as the real thing.”

Buck hums but doesn’t say anything else. He traces carefully over Eddie’s knuckles and the back of his hand, and Eddie almost falls asleep again. 

“What changed your mind?” Eddie opens his eyes and Buck’s looking down at him now, an intense curiosity in his eyes, like he was just cycling through everything he knows about Eddie trying to figure out what made him believe in love again.

Knowing Buck, he probably was.

Eddie’s happy to save him the trouble. “I got shot,” he says simply, and Buck’s hand finally stills. Eddie reaches up, cupping Buck’s cheek, relishing in the way he automatically leans into his palm.

“I got shot,” he says again, “and you saved me, in every way you possibly could.”

It’s true — it wasn’t the first time a bullet had found a path through him, or even the first time he’d seen his life flash before his eyes. But as he lay there in the street, hot asphalt underneath him, weaker by the second, the only things running through his head were Chris and Buck and ChrisandBuck, and his only regret was that Buck didn’t know — about his guardianship of Chris, about how he made Eddie feel something like hopeful for the first time in years, any of it.

As his vision blacked out, Buck’s face streaked with blood and panic was the last thing he saw, and he vowed to make sure Buck knew everything if he made it out of this.

Of course, nothing is ever that easy. 

After he woke up, with Buck’s name on his lips but Ana’s hand in his, everything became a waiting game. 

He waited for Buck to show up at the hospital, out of breath but still so dazzling, his very presence making Eddie feel like he could run a marathon right then. 

He waited for them to finally be alone so they could talk, but only got through telling him about the guardianship before Buck got a text from Taylor that made him smile so softly the rest of Eddie’s speech died in his throat. 

He waited to break it off with Ana long enough that he didn’t seem like a jackass, waited as Buck and Taylor flew higher and higher before crashing, waited for days and weeks and months, waited, waited, waited. 

But it didn’t hurt. All that time, it wasn’t excruciating, it didn't feel like a waste, because he knew from the minute he woke up that he was waiting for something. He could feel the anticipation burning up inside him, and it wasn’t going to be for nothing this time. 

Finally, finally, just as naturally as they had fallen into each other’s lives the first time, they fell together again — in the dim light of Eddie’s kitchen, empty beer bottles and raw, unfiltered words between them, reliving the day they hadn’t been able to talk to each other about for the past nine months. Eddie’s hands shook and Buck took them in his and Eddie knew this was his moment. 

He looked Buck dead in the eye and said, “You’re the reason I’m sitting here right now, and I’m in love with you.”

The evening air crackled in the silence, and neither of them moved. Eddie was pretty sure even his blood had stopped flowing as he waited, until suddenly everything snapped. 

Suddenly they were both leaning in, suddenly they were kissing and whispering I love yous soft and desperate across each other’s skin.

Suddenly everything began.

He shakes his head a bit as he comes back to the present. Buck doesn’t say anything this time, just smiles and kisses the center of Eddie’s palm where it’s still resting on his cheek, tangles their fingers together again before placing them back on Eddie’s chest. 

“You saved me too, you know,” Buck says quietly. “I wasn’t the one who got shot, but still, you did. You always do.”

“Always will,” Eddie says, because it’s true, and the easiest promise he’s ever made. Buck is his hope, his light in the dark, every other cheesy cliche, and Eddie will work for the rest of his life to make sure Buck feels safe and loved. It’s the least he could do for all that Buck has given him.

They lapse back into quiet, enjoying the sounds of the park and their family, and Eddie feels something he's been too afraid to name until now, a holdout from years of guarding himself.

He’s happy. Truly, with no caveats or strings attached, unbelievably happy. 

[bisexualbuck]

My 911 Fic Writing Masterlist

(Last edited May 28th 2021)

I’ve finally decided to do a masterpost of all my writing for the show 911 which is the fandom I’ve written the most for. There are 33 fics in this post, holy crap.

(If anyone is interested, I’ve also written for Star Trek AOS, Leverage, the MCU, among many other fandoms.)

As a general note, I’ll say most of my fics have Buddie elements and I also try to have at least one Firefam moment. Also, please check each fic’s warnings.

This is going to be long so most of it will be under a read more.

Last thing, please! If you like any of these stories, please consider leaving a comment and reblogging this post.

Multi Chapter

Reaching In The Dark | 38.7k

It all started innocent enough but Buck can no longer deny it.

He has a stalker.

Someone so obsessed with him that they would spend hours and hours following him, unnoticed, taking pictures of him, taking notes of his habits.

But life has been so good lately, and Buck doesn’t want to worry anyone. So he tells no one about it, he can deal with it on his own.

Leave My Body | 23k

"Do you want to see how it could have been? You are so sure you've been a burden on everyone you've ever met, but I can show you the truth."

.

Buck dies but it's not the end.

(Inspired by the movie It's a Wonderful Life)

Encore | 20.1k

“I’m going insane.”

“Did something happen?”

A dark, bitter laugh bubbles out of Buck – a mockery of joy.

“Everything keeps happening, and it’s still the same fucking day. It’s always the same and every time it’s different and I can’t do anything.”

.

Or

Buck keeps reliving the same day, over and over again.

Hurt/Comfort

Death, Be Not Proud | 10.1k

There are moments barge loudly into your life and, even as you’re going through them, you know they will change everything.

There are other moments that happen quietly, unnoticed, and it’s only afterwards that you know, looking back, that they have changed your life.

When the 118 is called to a decrepit house, they don’t think much of it.

Yet this will change their lives forever.

Silent Storm | 4.4k

Buck wakes up in the hospital.

Except he can't move. He can't speak.

But he can hear everything.

Dying Of The Light | 4.1k

If Purgatory was a place on Earth, it would be a hospital waiting room.

Or

Buck is in a coma, brain-dead - or so that's what the doctors say anyway.

(Silent Storm told from the Firefam's POV)

No Kingdom To Come | 8k

Days pass, then weeks that soon turn into months. Buck doesn’t call, he doesn’t text.

They don’t even know if he is still alive.

Maddie files a missing person’s report. Athena checks for any mention of his name anywhere in the country.

Nothing pops up, no one calls.

Buck is gone.

The Courage To Heal | 1.4k

He remembers her perfume. Thick, flowery – it makes him retch.

Why does he remember her perfume? Every time he smells anything like it, he wants to throw up, he wants to rush in the shower and try to wash away the stink of it.

Why can’t he move on?

He’s had sex with countless people over the years, especially back in his Buck 1.0 days, so why does that encounter remain? Why does it make him sick?

Why does he feel so ashamed?

.

Buck opens up about Dr Wells, the therapist from season 1.

The Loneliness Never Left Me | 2k

“Buck is afraid he is gonna end up like Red, without friends, without family. He thinks the job is the only thing he’ll ever have and that he’ll always be alone.”

Silence falls around them, heavy and suffocating.

“We need to show him that he’s got us."

“Not show him,” Chim says. “Tell him.”

Forever Day | 2k

The man pulls a gun out.

He aims it at Buck’s head.

“If you take another step I will blast your brains on the ground."

Hollow | ~300

Bobby on the day of his late wife and kids’ deaths, with Athena by his side.

Those Days | ~600

A look into Eddie and Christopher having a bad day made better by having each other.

Little Hope | ~500

A moment of support between two friends, Karen and Eddie, as Hen lays unconscious in a hospital bed.

Firefam Feels

Alone Again | 1.2k

Post S04E04

After standing up for himself to his parents, Buck feels hollow.

He isn't sure how he finds himself at Athena and Bobby's home, but maybe that's exactly where he needs to be.

Make It Three | 3.2k

It takes him twenty full minutes to realize what he has said, and then it hits him like a goddamn freight train.

Oh no. Oh no.

Buck just hung up on the phone on Athena Grant telling her that he loved her like he’s been doing it every day of his life.

Oh no.

.

Or

Buck slips up and tells Athena he loves her. He has a bit of a freak out.

Words Unsaid | 2.2k

“What’s going on?” Bobby and Buck say in unison.

“You two,” Athena announces, “are going to talk things out.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Buck says, like a liar. “Everything is fine.”

.

Buck overhears Bobby say that he's not his kid. He doesn't take it very well.

Lay You Down | 2k

Buck is sick and can't be left alone in his feverish state, but everyone is working.

Everyone but Athena.

That Which We Carry | 2.1k

Bobby stops in his tracks.

Buck is sitting on the ground, next to his own car, his keys and phone forgotten next to him. His breathing is loud and short and he has his head in his hands so that his face is hidden.

He’s having a panic attack.

To Be Loved, To Belong | 3.1k

5 times Buck almost tells his family what they mean to him.

+1 time he does.

Buried | 2.3k

It’s supposed to be a simple call.

Of course, everything goes wrong.

Just As It Was | 2.3k

After the lawsuit, Buck overworks himself trying to prove his worth to the team.

One day, he pushes too far.

Sunlight | ~500

The Buckley siblings have a bet about what Maddie and Chim’s kid’s first word will be.

Family Matters | ~500

A look into the future at Bobby’s retirement party.

Humor & Fluff

Freedom In Love | 1.1k

“You can’t keep ignoring this,” Maddie says – again.

She says it a lot. His answer is pretty much always the same.

“Actually, I can. And I think I will. This is working great for me so far. It’s like Schrödinger’s confession, if I don’t say anything, Eddie can’t reject me.”

Green Heart | 3k

Buck starts seeing a man.

Eddie worries he is being a bigot, because the idea of Buck kissing another man makes him want to punch someone.

What else could it be?

The Most Perfect Moment | 1.7k

After Shannon, Eddie never thought that he would ever want to get married again.

Yet, a little red box lays in his pocket until the perfect moment to propose comes around.He has been carrying it for weeks now, waiting.

He wants his proposal to be perfect because he knows that this is the last time he will ever be asking this question. Buck is it for him. There will never be anyone else.

Blame It On Chimney | 1k

“So anyway, that’s how Chimney saw me full-on naked.”

Eddie chokes on his beer.

How It Looks | ~400

Someone is back to haunt Chim. Well, not exactly someone. Hen is tired.

The Rest Of Our Lives | ~500

One night, one conversation that changes everything between Buck and Eddie.

Tumblr Prompts

lover, be good to me | 7.1k

This is a collection of unrelated prompts first posted on my tumblr.

(Summary of each story in the first chapter's notes)

Eddie touching Buck’s birthmark | ~300

Eddie in a relationship is a clingy Eddie | ~200

Halloween at the station | ~500

Buck & Maddie being their cute selves |  ~400

Misc.

from the bottom i come running | 3.7k

Co-written with the endlessly talented ksmalltalk / @letitialewiss​

Crossover with Lone Star.

Just a soccer match for charity and two men cheering on their boyfriends.

Wait, no. Eddie and Buck are not dating, no matter what Chim and Hen can say.

Or

In the stands, Eddie befriends TK whose boyfriend is playing alongside Buck. Out on the pitch, Buck and Carlos are a force to be reckoned with.

Oh, and someone gets hurt.

safe inside | 5.6k

Co-written with the biggest-brained and most talented chasingobligion / @starlightbuck​

World-famous actor TK Strand and his bodyguard Carlos find themselves seeking shelter from fans and paparazzi in a bakery Carlos knows very well.

Or

Baking leads to a few life changes.

Breathe You In | 2k

Eddie can’t stop staring.

This selfie is going to be the death of him.Buck is shirtless, and giving the camera an intense look that leaves Eddie panting.

Or

Buck sends a picture that tips their relationship into something new.

[67impalaandwhisky]

Destiny Is Heaven Sent

Summary: Knowing Dean Winchester since you were fifteen, you’ve always been pulled in his direction. Always wanting to open up the rattled and broken cage your heart lives in. But when the child you’ve been raising together dies, you find yourself closing up the cage of your heart again. And if destiny has one thing for you, it’s to break you down before bringing you back up.

Characters: Dean x You, Sam, Castiel, Bobby, OFC’s, OMC’s, (Ongoing)

This Series Is Set Through Seasons 1-6 With Knowledge That The Bunker Exists

Rating: 18+

Warnings (Ongoing and Will Be Updated): Grieving, Mentions of Rape and Defilement (As Per A Case), Show Level Violence, Swearing, Smut, Impreg Kink, Blood, Fighting, Drinking, Dean Being Dean, Fluff, Angst, Dom!Dean, Sub!Reader

Warnings For This Chapter: Show Level Violence, Fluff

Chapter 5.

"You better not let my insides turn to mush." You tell your best friends as they drive through the dark night towards the scene of the crime.

"We would never let you get hurt, ever. Don't be ridiculous." Dean mumbles as he lowers the music as it blasts throughout the car.

"I'm just saying." You whisper as you tug at your dress.

"Yeah well, don't 'just say' anything. And, stop pulling at your dress like that something is gonna pop out from one end or the other if you keep it up." He barks out.

Throwing his jacket over your legs, you let the scent of his cologne wash over you and you feel your nerves begin to calm down.

"You memorized what he looked like right?" Sam asks as you finger at the green fabric of his jacket.

"Yep. Got it all in here." You say tapping your temple with your index finger before looking out the window.

You watch the odd streetlight pass you by before eyeing the moon. You've always loved how, no matter how close you drive towards it it always seems farther and farther away with each step.

"Since Morley Rosmund was cremated by the state, he must be attached to something. A lock of hair, a locket, something he bled on." Sam says as he flicks through the sheets of paper within his manila folder.

"Maybe he's attached to the old woodchipper that prostitute shoved him through." You comment as the car begins to slow down.

"That would be an issue." Dean mumbles as he pulls up to the nefarious corner.

You want to open the door but your nerves seem raught with determination to stay inside the safe car.

"All we need to find out is where he takes the women. Whether it's his old house, his old office, anywhere. We'll send him packing for the night and go there in the morning to scout it out and find whatever he's attached to." Dean tells you as he hooks his hand behind the passenger seat to look at you.

It's a simple plan. Straightforward like always. You three are a team. There's no reason to let yourself get worked up over nothing.

"We're going to be right across the street. We'll be watching you." Your younger best friend tells you calmly and you look up at both of them before nodding.

"Okay. Let's gank this bitch then." You whisper before opening up the car door.

The gentle chill that blows through the breeze assaults all of your limbs as you stand on the street corner.

You watch Baby do a U-turn before the car shuts off. Dean is watching you like a hawk, eyes narrowed as he picks some skin off his bottom lip.

His gaze is comforting and you take deep breaths as you pace back and forth.

"She looks nervous." Sam comments to his older brother as he angles his head to watch you.

"Yeah. She's waiting for a weird pervert ghost. You'd be nervous too if you were her." Dean answers gruffly as his eyes roam your body.

"Why don't you guys just fuck already?" His younger brother asks as he brings his coffee cup to his lips. 

"Excuse me?" His older brother's voice is deep and low, the threatening baritone creeping into his head and rattling his brain. Dean turns his head slowly to his brother with narrowed eyes.

The gaze sets something akin to nervousness in Sam and he gives an awkward chuckle combing his long hair behind his ear.

"I just...I mean… I can see the way you both look at each other." He says with a shrug.

"It's complicated. Don't worry about what me and Y/N do or haven't done." He mumbles before turning back to watch you continue to pace.

"I mean you guys have both liked each other since you guys met. And...Well, you guys always pretend like something between you both doesn't exist." Sam fumbles with his words.

Dean sighs as he pulls his flask out from the inside pocket of his jacket. Taking a swig, he rolls his eyes. 

"I'm not talking about this right now, Sammy. All I do is talk about this shit to you, to Cas, to Bobby, even to Dad when he was still alive. I'm not with her because I don't fucking deserve her. I'm not going to ruin her life like I always do. So, shut the hell up." He barks out before cracking his neck.

Sam nods slowly as he presses his lips into a straight line, "Fine. I just think Y/N should be able to make those decisions for herself too. Y'know?" 

"Shut up, Sam." The fraction of a second that this conversation has gone on, Dean's eyes left you for a minute.

When he turns his head back to the corner, you are gone. 

"Goddammit!" He curses loudly, slapping the steering wheel harshly before shoving the door open and jogging across the street. 

Nothing but the brisk chill of the evening is all Dean can feel. You're completely out of his sight and he puts his hands over his face.

"I'm sorry." Sam apologizes quickly as he joins his older brother.

"If anything happens to her…Fuck!" He curses as his head continuously turns in all directions.

Pulling out his phone, the younger Winchester begins to track the GPS on your cell phone, "I'll find her." Sam whispers nervously as he takes in his brother's broken form.

Dean can feel his heart clenching, his eyes are watering at the mere thought of you being in danger. How could he let you out of his sight?

He promised. He fucking promised. 

This is like Marsh all over again.

Clutching onto the fabric of his shirt over his heart, his head lolls back at the pain and fear that encroaches upon him.

Dean and Sam weren't paying attention when Morley Rosmund came and grabbed you. That you knew for a fact. They were fighting. As per usual. 

The second the man in olden clothes had touched you, your body felt cold and numb.

You could count on your hand the amount of times you've met a ghost this pissed.

You've done jobs by yourself before while your best friends were gallivanting and fighting with every Archangel known to man. This would just have to be one of those times where you suck it up and have to fend for yourself.

You couldn't rely on them always and that's perfectly okay. You can handle yourself, you're strong and capable. 

Ghosts with this angered of a spirit can travel only a certain distance away from their soul-bound item. 

That seems to check out as you're pulled only a block away from that street corner. The office building is old and decrepit. There are many stop work orders on the face of the building as you're pulled inside. 

Grimacing, you step over dead bodies and bones in the first floor hallway.

"This is my office." You hear Morley explain and your breath comes out in puffs of smoke as you wrap your arms around each other for warmth.

"Oh. Lovely." You murmur as the body of a woman around your age lays on the old, varnished desk. 

Your hand reaches for your clavicle and you tug off the old coin pure iron from the necklace before pushing it down into the palm of your hand.

Your eyes glance around the office, trying to find anything that would be the key item for this man to still be bound here. You try to ignore the putrid smell of rotting flesh before the taller ghost is in your line of sight with a feral smile on his face.

His body shifts in and out of this plane of existence before solidifying once more.

"Get on the desk and spread your legs." He commands and you shiver at the roughness of his voice.

Clearing your throat, you sit on the corner trying your best not to touch the dead girl that's there.

"NOW!" The thin glass of the window shatters at his bellow and you swallow thickly as you raise your hand to his face.

Just the thought of touching this dead spirit is nerve wracking but you need to be able to get out of here. You know the building now, you just have to get away.

You press your hand to his face and he shimmers away with a yell. Closing your palm, you jump off of the desk hopping over dead bodies in the hallway. You're so close to the entrance door you can almost taste it.

But, Morley Rosmund is an old, angry ghost. Just as quickly as he vanished, he reappears.

Your breath hitches in your throat as he blocks the doorway and you go to throw the old iron coin at him. Before you can even let the coin slide out of your hand, you're in the air.

Your body travels backward against the wall with a loud thud and you crumple in on yourself with a whimper. You can taste blood in your mouth, can feel your body aching and bruising all over as the ghost advances on you.

Dean is mumbling to himself as he rummages through the trunk.

Hearing glass shatter in the distance, his head jolts up. 

"You hear that?" He asks his younger brother as he grabs his sawed off shotgun.

"Yeah. I got her location. She's not far." The words put gusto into his bones as he rapidly grabs the rest of the materials and weapons he will need.

Slamming the trunk shut, he hauls the bag over his shoulder before throwing a shotgun at his brother.

"Let's go then." He says quickly, ushering Sam to get a move on.

Jogging down the block, it didn't take long for them to find the old, decrepit building you were housed in.

Peeking his head in Dean can see the strewn bodies on the floor, new and old.

"Oh Y/N." He whispers gently as he pushes the door open with the mouth of his gun.

The office door which is cracked and shattered reads 'Mund.' You must be in there.

Stepping over the dead bodies gingerly, the closer he gets to the office with his little brother behind him the louder your whimpers and grunts of pain become.

His jaw clicks and he can hear you cursing out the ghost like a proud sailor.

Kicking open the door, he takes in your half naked body for a fraction of a second before he's shooting the gun at the ghost. The rock salt blasts through Morley Rosmund and he's gone within seconds. 

"Hey. Hey. I got you." He whispers as he jogs over to you.

You whimper loudly, holding your arms out like a frail child and his heart breaks at the sight of you.

"I'm so fucking sorry." He says as he picks you up. Your skin is already bruising and deepening in color as he coddled you to his chest.

"We gotta go!" Sam yells as more glass begins to shatter in the office.

Dean buries your face into his neck as he steps over strewn debris and body parts. You can hear him whispering kind, gentle words in your ear and you practically jump out of your skin as Sam shoots the gun behind you.

"He's one angry son of a bitch." Dean growls as he kicks open the front door.

Stepping down the stairs, the brisk chill of Autumn assaults your half naked body and you groan loudly as Sam shoots the gun once more before closing the front door of the building.

Sammy throws his jacket over your body as Dean jogs back to the Impala with fast feet.

"Did he hurt you? Where did that sick son of a bitch touch you?" The venom in his voice is almost intoxicating to listen too.

"I'm okay." You whisper as he opens the back door of the Impala without a word. 

Throwing the keys to Sam, the younger brother clears his throat uncomfortably. Dean sits in the back of the car with you, he pulls your upper body onto his making sure Sam's jacket is covering your body.

You're still aching and feeling the pain all over but it's also a soft comfort that creeps over your body as Dean runs his fingers through your hair. 

"De?" You whisper as your eyes flutter closed.

"Hmm?" He asks, lowering his head to hear you clearly. 

"When I feel better, I'm going to kick your ass for leaving me alone." You threaten before grimacing and putting your hand to your chest.

His face shifts above you, as if he's been stabbed or shot. Your words cut him to the quick and he can barely nod.

"I would expect nothing less, Candy girl."

You ended up in Dean's bed again that night, which was becoming more of a regular thing than you cared to admit. But, against all of your better judgement, you were okay with it.

You were finally sound asleep when Dean uttered his first words of the evening.

"I'm so sorry." He whispers as he turns towards you.

Your lips are parted, hair splayed over your face as you take shallow breaths during your sleep.

Turning his head to make sure his brother is sleeping, he curls his arm around your form. His thumb grazes gentle circles on your forearm as he watches you sleep.

"I'm so caught up in what to do around you, what to say, how to hide my feelings… It's all getting to be too much for me." He mumbles more to himself than to you.

"I shouldn't have taken my eyes off you tonight. I'm sorry I didn't pay more attention. I don't know what I would have done if you got hurt because of me. God…" His voice is deep and pained. A tear threatens to spill over as he hangs his head.

This would be about the time where he grunts angrily and drinks a beer but he can't leave your side. Not for a minute. 

"I'm getting sick and tired of not having you as mine. Really fucking sick of having to push you away because I'm too goddamn stubborn to do anything about it." He sounds breathless by the end of his monologue. Laying his head down on the pillow, his thumb drifts over your cheekbone once more.

"Then don't be stubborn." You whisper before turning over and facing the window.

Your older best friend's eyes widen and he clears his throat before rubbing at his face roughly with his left hand.

"I didn't...I didn't know you were awake." He whispers as you open your eyes.

You watch as soft grey clouds drift past the large moon that looms over the motel.

"Kind of hard to sleep when your best friend is spilling out his soul to you." You retort quietly, your fingers pull at a frayed string of the comforter that lays over your body.

"So...you heard me?" He asks nervously.

Oh. You heard it all.

Destiny Is Heaven Sent Taglist: @roonyxx​, @deans-baby-momma​

Forever Dean Tags: @akshi8278​

[gothamangelwings]

Okay, so I wasn’t sure if I was going to say anything about this, but I have to, for my own sanity. Excuse me for my rambling (especially about Castiel) and repeating myself, which I probably will do in this post.

Truth is I only got into Supernatural a little over a year ago. I just kept avoiding it over the years. I think when it was in it’s 7th or 8th season, I thought to myself “oh this should be ending soon. I’ll just wait til its over and watch it then” That did not happen. Jump to last year when I heard about the Scoobynatural episode. I love Scooby so I had to watch. And I loved it. And I really loved Sam and Dean. But I also couldn’t stop thinking about the guy in the trench coat with the deep voice named Castiel. Did very little research to find out he’s an angel. That’s all I wanted to know. Went to netflix and started watching the show from the beginning. By the time I got midway thru season 3 I was hooked. I started buying the dvds in bunches. Watching as much as a I could a week. When I got to season 4 I was Cass on the cover of the boxset and said “that’s him! That’s the angel! He’s in the season!” I actually didn’t know he would show up right in the beginning of the season but when Dean was at that gas station and gas started shattering I thought. That’s him isn’t it? That’s Castiel. Misha’s actual entrance on the show is the best in history. I do love Sam and Dean but I’m not going to lie and pretend like Castiel isn’t my favorite. Because he is. I adore that awkward angel. He is the reason I happily kept watching and brought all the dvds because I knew Misha was still working on the show. He is the reason I will buy season 15. I started shipping Destiel in season 5 but when I re-watched the series (Yes I watched it twice in less than a year. One over a period of several months the other over a few weeks before the show came back after hiatus.) I saw moments in season 4 that i missed the first time around.

So yes this finale makes me cry and not in a good way. although there are a few saving graces.

Let’s begin.

First let me start by saying I do not in any way blame the actors. Especially Jensen. He said he thought the ending was bad and had to be talked into it. Dean/Jensen deserved better. I blame the writers and producers and The CW

Second, repeat after me:

Cass is in heaven with Dean

Cass is in heaven with Dean

Cass is in heaven with Dean

Cass is in heaven with Dean

Now speaking of Castiel, who I mostly want to talk about before addressing the rest of this mess. Castiel/Misha deserved better. There really is no reason Misha couldn’t be in the final episode unless there was something on his end. Although seeing that he recently went to California to shoot a something for Amazon and took West to the Winchester House. He can definitely travel. But if there was some reason on his end, then okay, fine then. However that doesn’t excuse the way the handled his character in these last two episodes.

Yes in 15x19 Dean demands Chuck bring Cass back. Dean remembers Cass’s words when Chuck calls him the ultimate killer. Yes, Dean runs to the door when he thinks Cass has just called him. Instead in was Lucifer. What a slap in the face to the fans and an insult to Misha after that beautiful confession of love.

But the end of the episode. Jack becomes God and no one says “What about Cass?”

Now 15x20. Sam brings up Castiel and Dean is just like “move on“. No, That is not Dean. No matter what Dean cared about Castiel, to the point that being without him in the past led him to depression. i understand he doesn’t want Castiel’s sacrifice to be in vein. But come on. There’s living on and being happy and then there’s acting like the guy didn’t matter. Again, no. That is not Dean. Not after all the development those two have had. I know Dean wasn’t always perfect when it came to Cass but he did care. What happened to “We lost everything. Now you’re going to bring him back” What happened to the purgatory apology and admitting his anger issues. And so much more.

Again Castiel is in heaven. Jack got him out of The Empty. But they could of made it more clear. ( I swear, if they are leaving this up to interpretation....) Because I see so many people who have “conveniently” missed what Bobby said and insist he’s still in The Empty. Or just want to say “well that’s not what he meant. Cas is still dead, he just meant his influence on Jack” or some shit like that.(Now that I think about maybe influence isn’t the right word to use with this fandom lol)

Anyway lets say that Misha could not in anyway be there for filming. YOU CAN STILL ADDRESS HIS CHARACTER PROPERLY AND GIVE HIM A SATISFYING ENDING. In fact you barely have to change the scene between Dean and Bobby just add a few more lines.

Dean: “So Jack did all that?”

Bobby: “Well Cass helped”

Dean: “Wait, Cass is here?!”

Bobby: ‘Yep, Kid got him out.”

Dean: “Well where is he? Can I see him?”

Bobby (smiling): “Now calm down ya idjit. He’ll be back soon. Had some business to take of. But he is planning to stick around here with the rest of us.’

Dean (smiling, happy because he’s getting a second chance): Good. He belongs with us. With me. (takes a drink) It’s just too bad...

Bobby (knowing he’s talking about Sam: “Don’t worry he’ll be here shortly...”

Scene plays out as normal but instead when Sam and Dean are reunited. Dean tells him “Let’s head back, Mom, Dad, Bobby, and Cass are waiting for us. Along with everyone else we loved and lost when we were alive.”

Or... a few scenarios with Castiel there (even for a few moments)

1. When Dean dies (yeah we’ll talk about that) Jack sends down Cass to take him to heaven. Dean leaves his body. Watches as Sam falls apart and then hears “Hello Dean” turns and there’s Cass to guide him to heaven and also let him know Sam will be okay and will live a happy life”

2. The scene with Bobby starts the way it did but instead after he says “Well Cass helped” he points behind Dean.

Cass: “Hello Dean.”

Dean: “Cas! Aw, it’s good to see you. You have no idea.”

They embrace. Maybe the say something about the confession maybe they don’t but at least they’re together and we know that they have time to talk.

Episode continues as it did but again Dean tells Sam that Castiel is here waiting for them.

3. Episode plays exactly as it did. Except at the very end after Sam and Dean reunite on the bridge...

Cass: “Hello Dean. Hello Sam”

Both: Cass!

The three hug. Dean a bit longer.

Dean: “Well look at that. Team Free Will back together again. This time forever.”

In any scenario Castiel is living in heaven with the boys. Him and Dean eventually talk about what happened. In my canon Dean returns his feelings but even if he can’t it’s okay because Dean does care about Cass. And Castiel’s happiness was just in being able to say it. Either way they’re together along with everyone else they love and will be waiting for those who haven’t arrived yet.

Also Cass finally gets his guinea pig. Because he deserves it.

ONCE AGAIN, EVEN IF MISHA COULDN’T BE THERE. THERE WERE STILL BETTER WAYS TO HANDLE THIS ENDING! OH AND THERE BETTER NOT BE SOME LAME ASS THING LIKE ‘HE’S IN HEAVEN WORKING WITH JACK BUT ISN’T ALLOWED HERE BECAUSE THE NEW GOD LIKES TO KEEP ANGELS SEPARATE FROM THE REST OF US’

NO. CASTIEL IS DEFINITELY WITH DEAN IN HEAVEN. END OF STORY.

Moving on the other problems which I won’t go into full detail in like I did Castiel.

Dean’s death. The ever loving fuck was that? A nail?! I get that they finally get to call the shots in there own lives now but come on! A nail. And this is what a few weeks after defeating Chuck. Who, if he wants to can have a happy life. You know when Cass heard about this he rolled his eyes. Like “Really?!”

Ewwww that forehead touch. I know for most people it’s just a sweet final moment between two siblings as one dies. But we all know this is fuel for the Winc*sters and b*bros. I mean come on now. You’re afraid to have Dean even acknowledge Castiel’s feelings but a forehead touch that can and will be taken out of context as romantic between two brothers is fine and dandy. I was watching this with my Mom and even she was like “That forehead touch,,, why.. just why...”

Funny thing about my Mom. (Sorry not sorry going back to talk about Cass for a moment) She has been watching SPN with me this year but honestly only (not even) half paid attention. She has a habit of always looking at her phone even when it’s something she wants to watch. Two weeks ago after 15X18 I asked “Do you believe Cass’s confession was romantic?”

Her response. “No, they’re just friends. Angels aren’t supposed to feel romantic love.’ We get into a small argument.

A few days later...

Me: “Misha confirmed it was romantic.”

Mom: “Oh, well that settles it then. I just was taught that angels didn’t feel that kind of love.”

Me: “Yeah but your forgetting a few things. 1. Cass isn’t like other angels and 2. This is a fictional tv show not the actual bible.

Mom laughs: “Good point, Guess I didn’t think about that.”

Me: “Y’know people are actually saying  that Cass can’t be gay or bi because Dean isn’t.”

Mom: “That’s stupid. One has nothing to do with the other. Even if Dean doesn’t feel the same way that doesn’t change Castiel’s feelings.”

Jump to the last few days.

Mom: “Cass is going to show up in the finale. He and Dean will be reunited! Maybe he’s one of those people in the masks being controlled by The Empty. Or maybe there will be a scene in the barn where Dean is on the ground about to be stabbed and Cass saves him in the knick of time!”

Mom after the finale: “That was terrible. Very disappointed. They really couldn’t get Misha for few minutes. They better not use covid as an excuse with all those people on that bridge. Everything about this episode felt wrong” (she said that about 15x19 too). (Grabs her phone to look at twitter) “Misha is crying. This episode doesn’t deserve pie.”

We brought pie. We did not eat it.

Moving on.. .yeah yeah the wig on Jared was awful. But who cares. What I want to know is who is the mother? Is it Eileen? I hope it’s Eileen. It better be Eileen.

The barn. Why? Why that barn? Did they really think no one would notice. I get reusing sets and locations as completely different places. But that just hurt.

Did we need so many songs with no dialogue being spoken. I mean yes Carry On was a must have but so much time could’ve been spent talking about other characters during the other songs .

And again why are they trying to make Dean look bad. It’s not his/Jensen’s fault it’s the horrible writing of these final two episodes. Why did they not take to opportunity to talk about Castiel’s confession. Yes I’m  back on Cas again. I warned you. Also he’s probably the main reason you’re reading this anyway, so yeah...

I would like to believe a conversation happened off screen but the way Sam and Dean acted it doesn’t seem like it.

Again would it be so hard. Two scenarios

1.

Dean: “Before Cass got dragged into the Empty he told me...

Sam: :Told you what?”

Dean: He told me... he told me he loved me.”

Sam (smiling): “That’s not news Dean,”

Dean: “No Sammy. He really loved me... like... you know..”

Sam: “Again, not news Dean. How do you feel? “

Dean (hesitates): “ I think... no, I know I love him too. He’s the only man I’ll ever love.”

Sam: “Well you know technically Cass really isn’t male... so...

Dean: “Oh please Sammy. Could you imagine Cass in any other body? Especially a chicks. It would be so weird.”

Sam: “Good point.”

Dean: “Besides, he was perfect the way he was.”

2.

Dean: “Before Cass got dragged into the Empty he told me...

Sam: :Told you what?

”Dean: He told me... he told me he loved me.”

Sam (smiling): “That’s not news Dean,”

Dean: “No Sammy. He really loved me... like... you know..”

Sam: “Again, not news Dean. How do you feel? “

Dean: “I can’t return his feelings. I see him as a man and you know I’m attracted to women.”

Sam: “Alright then.”

Dean. “But y’know...”

Sam: “Hmmm?”

Dean: “I still miss him. I wish he was here with us.”

There were so many easy ways to fix this and they did nothing. Did they not think 15x18 would have a huge impact. I really hope the writers are kicking themselves for this. Funny, by ignoring Castiel and his feelings they actually brought more attention and love to him and Misha.

I really don’t know if a rewrite and reshoot for the dvd release is possible. Has that ever been done, I feel like it has but I’m not sure. But if it is. Fix it. It only took a few weeks to film these last two episodes. I’m sure all the actors can come back to film for a few weeks. Once there are less Covid restrictions of courses. I know there’s been talk about a possible movie. That could fix it. As long as they bring back the angel in the trench coat. Or how about a bonus episode for the dvd 15x21 where everyone is gathered in heaven. Sam, Dean, Cass, Bobby, Mary, John, Kevin, Charlie, Eileen, Jo, Ellen, Pam. Even Crowley and Rowena because why not. Oooh and Meg too because she did sacrifice herself for them and also I just love her.  Anyway they all gather and talk about old times. Perfect excuse for an old fashion clip show. Funny/heartwarming banter in between. Make Destiel canon at the end. Another possible way to fix it is do a comic book season or even just a few issues to flesh out the ending in heaven. Just fix it.

At least we have fanfiction.

If there are any positives to take away it’s this:

1: Castiel is in heaven with Dean. They are together. They have a second chance.

2. It was said only 30% of the fanbase would like this ending. Like many people I assumed that meant a Destiel ending. Cause I thought out of the whole fanbase shippers were in the minority. Nope turns of the the Winc*sters/B*bros are the 30%. Destiel fans, Cass fans, Misha fans are part of the 70% who hate this. Though why you would want to only please 30% of your fanbase is beyond me.

3. Sam was able to live a long happy life without being codependent on his brother.

I absolutely hated the last two episodes and how this show ended. Again the only saving grace is knowing Jack got Castiel out of The Empty and he and Dean reunited in heaven. But no matter how much I hated 99% of the ending. I still love this show and all it’s characters. I will happily go back and watch it over again to relive the good, funny, sad, bittersweet moments. The final 90 minutes of the series is not going to ruin that for me. I love Sam and Dean but Castiel is my favorite and I will happily go back and enjoy everything about his character. I am not going  to let this ruin Supernatural for me. Next summer I am going to my first SPN Convention and I can’t wait. I may have only discovered the greatness of Supernatural a year ago after avoiding it for so long but I want it to stay apart of my life. Like I said I only got into Supernatural a little over a year ago but this hurt my heart so much I only imagine how those of your who’ve been here for over a decade feel.

I know this was very, very long and I probably actually forgot some things I wanted to say. But I’m tired.

Cass and Dean are in heaven together. I believe they are canon 💙💚

[darling-chris]

Blind Spot AE

This is my alternate ending for Law and Order: Criminal intent Season 6 Episode 1 Blind Spot.

“Where is she?“ Bobby yelled, pushing the old man against the wall. Declan was aghast by his former mentee’s sudden rage. “I … I don’t know.“ He revealed truthfully, his eyes wide open staring into Bobby’s tired face. Bobby didn’t really want to believe that Declan had anything to do with Eames’ disappearance, but he also couldn’t deny the obvious connections he had found. Sebastian? Was it really an old serial killer coming back murdering all those women? But why Eames? Sebastian was Declan's white whale, so involving Eames wouldn’t make much sense. But why was Declan so convinced Alex was dead? The mere thought of that image send a million shivers down Bobby’s spine. A million questions and not one clear answer. Usually, Bobby broke down a case like this in a clear pattern. First look at the abductee, who were the people close to them, who’d seen them last. But every one of those answers lead back to himself. None of her family had heard from her. It suddenly came to him that there was literally nobody else in Alex’ life except her family and him. This thought was immediately followed by an even sombre thought. What if she was seeing someone, but he didn’t know. What if she had fallen for a maniac psycho? No — he stuffed that thought right to the back of his mind where it had come from. But then again, why the connection to Declan and Sebastian? Bobby’s ability to focus, let alone ask the right questions had been disabled the minute the text message from Alex’ cell phone had come in. He felt like a phone in Airplane mode, able to execute the basic functions but unable to process any information. The sound of someone knocking on the transparent walls of the visitors room suddenly caught Bobby’s attention. It was Captain Ross’ stern look through the glass that made him realise he was still clenching Declan’s collar fast in his fists. He let go of him finally and the old man let out a relieved breath. Did Declan really not know where Eames was? But who would if not him, his mentor? If a guy better at reading serial killers than Bobby himself couldn’t tell him where his partner was held captive, how would he ever find her? Who else knew Sebastian and his MO better than Declan. Bobby wiped the sweat off his forehead as Captain Ross entered the room, Declan still crouched into the corner Bobby had shoved him in. “We’ve triangulated Eames’ cellphone, the signal bounced between three towers within the Red Hook area in Brooklyn.“ Ross announced. Bobby’s glance fell at Declan, to see if Red Hook rang a bell. “Sebastian stuck to the east side area, he wouldn’t have stepped one food into Red Hook …“ Declan exposed, his eyes avoiding Bobby’s. He knew Declan was holding something back. The blood was boiling in his body. “Are you sure?“ Ross asked, also sensing something was wrong with the profiler’s behaviour. „No he is not … what’s in Red Hook?“ Bobby was leaping at Declan again, his fists clenched tightly together. He couldn’t stand any longer that Declan might know where Eames was but didn’t tell him. “Goren!“ Ross hissed at him to stay away from the old man. Bobby obeyed, turning away from Declan, piercing him however with a flaming look. “He knows something…“ he yelled at the Captain, his anger directed towards him now. He dramatically flung his hands in the air and brushed the fingers through his hair. If anything would happen to Alex just because he wasn’t persistent enough to find out the truth, he would never forgive himself. “Sebastian, doesn’t have any connections to Red Hook.“ Declan repeated, stepping out of the corner sitting down at the desk again. “But I do… My brother worked at a butcher shop at the pier. I used to bring Jo there when she was a kid.“ Declan remembered. He was completely calm sitting at his desk, not even pondering about the fact he might just have incriminated himself or his own daughter. He also seemed oblivious to the fact that Bobby was on the edge trying to find his partner and that time was pressing. “Jo. Of course.“ The million thoughts in Bobby’s head suddenly seemed to come in order. Things seemed to fall in place now and it made him dizzy. The only one knowing Declan’s cases as well as himself and maybe Bobby was Jo. She’d grown up on stories of Sebastian as if they were afternoon cartoons. Everything seemed to make sense now, but the warm feeling of puzzle pieces falling together revealing a clear picture didn’t make Bobby any less agitated. He would be calm when they’d found Alex. “What’s there now?“ Bobby asked his mentor. “The shop closed ten years ago, it’s an empty building.“ Declan revealed calmly. Bobby barely let the man finish. He ran out the door determined to walk there if he had to. It was his only chance at finding Eames alive and he was not going to waste one second. Captain Ross started after him, making a dozen phone calls on the way.

Alex had finally been able to get the tie off her eyes, which had been used to blindfold her. She hadn’t heard anything from her kidnapper in what must have been hours so she finally decided to make an attempt to free herself. When her eyes were finally able to focus, she mustered her surroundings. Her stomach dropped as she realised she was hanging from a meat hook screwed to the ceiling, like a pig ready for slaughter. What she had thought was sweat running down her arms had now revealed itself to be blood from the shackles carving themselves into her skin. She’d lost the feeling in her fingertips hours ago but her twirled back shoulders burned like fire. She wasn’t sure if they’d not been both dislocated. Around her she made out empty boxes and a blood stained shower curtain covering the part of the room the screams had come from the night before. She was sick to her stomach thinking a girl had been killed five feet away from her and she wasn’t able to do anything about it. The tips of her toes were barely touching the ground underneath her but she managed to get herself rotating so the hook would unscrew. After what had felt like the millionth turn around her own axis, the hook finally unscrewed and she fell to the floor. As soon as her body hit the cold cement ground adrenaline started raging through her veins. There was no way she would get herself down from there and not be able to get out of this god-forsaken cellar she was in. She picked herself up from the floor and started running through the first door she could find. She ran as fast as the narrow halls allowed it, stumbling over boxes and what looked like dumped furniture. Her heart was almost jumping out of her chest and her lungs hurt from the amount of breaths she took per minute. She had taken the meathook with her and held on to it as if her life depended on it. After what felt like an eternity of detours and dead ends she finally made it to a heavy red bunker door. Although every bone in her body was burning and aching she pulled all her physical strength together and turned the wheel to open the door. Right as she had felt the heavy bolts retract she pulled the door towards her. She used her whole body weight to pull it open. Right as she wanted to escape through it, however, she came to an abrupt halt. She had run headfirst into something. The exhaustion and dehydration delayed her realisation that she’d actually run into a person. As soon as she grasped the fact that someone was clutching her arms, she started fighting. There was no way she had brought herself so far only to run into her kidnappers arms. “Alex, stop. It’s me!“ Bobby wasn’t sure if he should hold on to her or let go. Alex was kicking the air trying to free herself from his tight grip. He didn’t want to hurt her so he decided to let go. After Bobby’s grip loosened she finally took a good look at him. She recognised Bobby’s face in front of her. She stopped in her tracks staring at him fearing she was hallucinating. He grabbed her by the shoulders once again, bending his head down to look directly into her eyes. “Alex, it’s okay, you’re safe now.“ His words echoed in her buzzing head. His face finally came into focus, not only with her eyes but also with her brain. It was actually Bobby, surrounded by SWAT officers in helmets and armour. To his left she could make out Captain Ross’ face. Slowly, she could feel her body collapsing. The Captain’s face merged into one with the SWAT team. She could see Bobby’s mouth moving but she didn’t hear a single word he said, until everything faded to black.

Bobby felt Alex’ feet giving out from under her. He clutched her upper arms tightly with his hands as not to lose her. He let her fall into his arms and slipped his right hand under her knees to pick her up entirely. Her head fell heavy on his shoulder and he carried her all the way back the hallway he’d been coming from. He’d been so worried he’d never see her again. A huge burden dropped from his heart when he found her falling into his arms like she did. It meant she was alive, it meant he was in control now. It meant that nothing could happen to her now unless he let it and he wouldn’t. An ambulance was already waiting outside and he carefully placed her onto the cot. Her skin was grey and her closed eyelids appeared almost blue. Her arms were both covered in blood coming from her bleeding wrists. Her chest moved very shallowly up and down like she was barely breathing. The lump in Bobby’s throat grew with every scratch end every bruise he spotted on Alex’ body. How could he ever have let her get hurt like this? Part of him knew he wasn’t responsible for what had happened to her but a fundamental part of his self-loathing brain blamed himself none the less. The connection between Jo Gage and Alex Eames was none other than him after all. Maybe Jo would have never chosen Alex if her father hadn’t pointed out how much Bobby seemed to care about her. “Please move aside sir..“ A paramedic caused Bobby to zoom back into reality. He realised he was still standing beside the cot holding her hand. He let go of it quickly as not to stand in the way of the paramedics work any longer. He watched Alex being loaded into the ambulance and he lost sight of her as they shut the door and flashed away with sirens and red light. He wiped his nose with his sleeve. “She’s gonna be fine..“ He could feel the Captains hand on his shoulder. He knew she was. He looked down on his blood stained shirt and anger crept up at him again. “Jo. It all makes sense now. She used Eames and the other girls to get Declan’s attention.“ Bobby eventually revealed his theory to Ross. “Let’s find out..“ Ross gestured towards his car, for Bobby to follow him.

Jo had confessed. Bobby had lulled her into a conversation watching her father through the window of the interrogation room until she finally confessed. He wasn’t especially happy to have brought her behind bars, but he knew it was the right thing, to get justice for Eames and the other girls. After two officers took Jo away, Bobby made his way to the hospital. He watched his partner through the little window on the door to her room, before he entered. She was lying on the bed hooked up to all kinds of machines and with bandages around her head and wrists. She looked even thiner than she usually did, but Bobby was relieved to find her awake. He knocked on the door to announce himself then entered without waiting for a response. Alex slowly turned her head towards him and put a weak smile on her face. „Well, you look like shit..“ She greeted him, her voice hoarse and weak. Bobby pushed an audible breath out his nostrils and settled himself on a chair next to her bed. “I’m Sorry!“ He apologised his eyes mustering her pale face. “What for, it wasn’t you was it?“ Alex replied. Bobby shook his head embarrassedly. “Five minutes,“ The nurse warned him and pulled the curtains to give them some privacy. Upon the sound of the metal rings grinding on the pole Alex’ breathing got heavier and faster. She squeezed her eyes together tightly as if she was trying to blend something out of her sight. “That sound?“ Bobby asked. “There was a curtain like this in the cellar. It’s where he tortured a girl, the entire night. There was nothing I could do for her..“ Alex voice broke telling her partner about what had happened to her. Her eyes started glimmering at the thought that she couldn’t help the poor soul screaming and crying only a few feet away from where she was held. „It was Amanda, the video store clerk.“ Bobby carefully revealed. Alex turned her head away as not to have Bobby see a tear escaping her eyes. “There’s nothing you could have done..“ Bobby grabbed her hand squeezing it softly. Alex turned to him again, his warm hand on hers felt so good. “And it wasn’t a him. It was Jo Gage.“ He exposed to her. Alex frowned, not knowing what to make of this information. “Jo? Are you sure?“ Alex couldn’t quite believe it. She had imagined her kidnapper, tried to make out their face although she couldn’t see them. She had thought it was a man, never in a million years did she think it could be Declan Gage’s daughter. She thought she would be happy and relieved hearing they had caught the person who did this to her, but the euphoria was limited. Alex too had felt sorry for Jo. The only thing she had ever craved was attention from her father and the only way she would ever get it was through an act like this. Alex rarely had understanding for the perpetrators actions but in this case it was crystal clear. Jo’s father’s obsession with psychopaths eventually turned him into one as well, and over the years he had successfully driven his own daughter into the same madness. “You think she’ll finally get the attention from her father she’d craved all those years?“ Alex asked. „More than ever…“ Bobby was sure. Alex’ eyelids were feeling like lead. She could barely hold her eyes open for longer than a second. The pain medication made her dizzy and she slowly drifted off. Bobby watched her fall asleep, still holding on to her hand. He was determined to keep holding it and to occupy this seat next to Alex’ bed as long as he had to. The adrenalin this day had pumped through his arteries began to wear off, Alex was safe and he would make sure she’d stay that way. Her breathing was even and peaceful and after a while of watching her chest go up and down, listening to the monotonous peeping of her heart rate he drifted off too.

[crashdevlin]

Hearts Entwined 8- Sliders

Hearts Entwined Masterlist

Author’s Note: Fills my Massage square for @spnkinkbingo​. 

Summary: Y/n, Sam, Dean, Cas and Jack meet up with a familiar face in Apocalypse world.

Pairing(s): Sam x Reader, Dean x Reader

Word Count: 3052

Chapter Warnings: Apocalypse World shenanigans,  18+! HERE BE SEX!! DON’T READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!!, unprotected sex.

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"Why aren't we flying, again?" Dean asked. "We got two half-angels with perfectly good teleportation powers. Why are we not using them?"

"Michael and his soldiers will be monitoring those avenues of travel," Cas answered. "And the less attention we draw, the better."

"But jumping in, grabbing Mom and jumping back out is-"

"Not a viable option, Dean. Jack and I are both pretty depleted after the last two portals. We wouldn't be able to 'jump in and jump back out', and that's my fault and I'm sorry, but stop complaining."

"I'm not blaming you, Y/n. I know you didn't mean to go back to Bizarro World. It just happened. As much control as you think you have, you're a Nephilim. Shit's gonna go sideways sometimes."

"'Nephilim' is plural," a voice said.

The group turned to look at the speaker, stepping around from behind a tree, and everyone's eyes went wide. "Charlie?" Dean and Sam exclaimed. You gasped, remembering how she looked covered in blood in that bathtub.

"Do I know you?"

"Um...no?" Dean answered, his voice a bit astonished. "It's...it's complicated."

"Not as complicated as it seems. Speak her language, boys," you said, stepping closer to him. "You know the show Sliders?" you asked. Her eyebrows came together and she nodded. "Okay, so basically, we're Jerry O'Connell and the gang, jumping through portals and switching up our worlds. Instead of a machine, we're using two half-angels...me and my brother, Jack."

"And you've met me on another slide?"

"They knew you back home. Their home, anyway."

"The look on your faces says I didn't survive on the other side, am I right?" She sighed as they avoided her gaze. "Well, that sucks troll balls. Anyway, 'nephil' is the singular for nephilim, cutie. It's Hebrew."

"Right. Makes sense." You smiled at her. "It's really great to meet you. I know...I know all about you."

"Do you?" she asked, skeptically.

"Well, up to the point where your timeline diverges with their Charlie's but…" You laughed as you remembered watching Dean talk her through flirting with a security guard. "Let's see how much I can Sherlock you. You are Charlie Bradbury, self named from Ray Bradbury because you are a massive nerd and I mean that with the utmost respect. You are a huge Tolkien fan, the Hobbit being of special importance. Your favorite Harry Potter character is Hermione and you always wanted to be a Gryffindor but Pottermore sorted you into Hufflepuff and I really think that was the right choice because the things you do for your friends are just amazing."

"Huh. Oh-kay," she said, eyes slightly wide. "Your Charlie is definitely very like me. Were you close?" Her eyes slid down your body as she spoke and your cheeks heated up.

"Oh, no. She was gone by the time I showed up. I didn't have the pleasure to meet her."

“Well, now you get the pleasure of meeting me, and I’m excited because you are just Gryffindorable,” Charlie said, smirking.

“Wow,” Dean said, putting a hand on your shoulder. “Ya know, if she played for your team, I’d be worried, ‘cause that was smooth.”

Charlie laughed. “Well, she wouldn’t be the first straight girl I bent a little.”

“She’s taken,” Sam said, simply.

Charlie’s eyes moved from Dean to Sam and she hummed. “What, you boys can share with each other, but not me? That’s not very friendly.”

“Yeah, our situation’s somethin’ complicated, Queen of Moons. There’s twin souls and soulmates and a pretty nephil chick doin’ spells to jump universes just to meet us. It ain’t about friendly.”

“Oh. You’re in love. That’s different.” Charlie smiled sadly and cleared her throat. “So...what’s the plan here, Sliders?”

“Our mom got caught over here a couple months ago. Michael took her to his base in Virginia,” Sam answered.

“Michael? I hate to be the one to break it to you but a body retrieval is a suicide mission,” Charlie said.

“She’s not dead,” Jack spoke up.

“Are you kidding? Of course she is. Michael doesn’t-”

“I saw her. She’s alive,” you responded.

“Saw her?” Charlie questioned.

“I’m a nephil...and I’m a witch. Projection comes naturally.”

“Wow, all that and gorgeous, too. You boys lucked out with this goddess.” Charlie licked her lips. “Okay. If you’re going to Morgantown, you’re gonna wanna stop off in Huntington, West. There’s a camp there. Come on. I’ll take you.”

“Why do we need to stop at this camp?” Castiel asked.

“Well, I assume nephilim eat, and even if they don’t these giants definitely need supplies. Also...if you’re stormin the castle, you’re gonna need more than a holocaust cloak and a wheelbarrow. Singer’ll have some manpower to lend.”

“Bobby?” Sam exclaimed happily.

“Shoulda known that old redneck’s running the Resistance,” Dean said, smirking.

“Oh, you know Bobby on the other side, too?”

“Practically raised us.”

“We’ll tell you all about it on the way,” Sam finished.

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

“You speak Charlie’s language,” Dean said, amused.

You looked up from the small rodent you refused to call a squirrel because then you’d have to admit that’s what you were eating and shrugged. “Yeah. Anybody should be able to talk sci-fi.”

“You also changed colors when she was flirting with you. Got something to tell me?”

Your cheeks heated up again, this time in embarrassment because your boyfriend had noticed your reaction to the lesbian. “You’d blush too if Felicia Day was flirting with you. Shut up.”

“That the actress for Charlie in Muggle World?” he asked, sitting on the log next to you.

“Yeah, she’s nerd royalty. She was in this show called ‘The Guild’ and she got her start in the last season of Buffy and...she’s awesome, leave me alone.”

“It’s cool. I know you love me,” he said, winking. “So...how’s your dinner?”

“Better than nothing. Just don’t call it by its name, please.”

He chuckled and picked at your squirrel on a stick, tossing a small chunk into his mouth. “Before we make it to the camp in Huntington, we should find a house to hole up in.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Haven’t had a moment to be together since we met your dad, thought we might...you know.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively and you smirked, cheeks heating up a bit. “We could bring Sam in, relieve a bit of stress before we go after Michael.”

“I don’t know, Dean. We’ve got so much going on and-”

He leaned over next to your ear and whispered, “Come on. Don’t you wanna have your soulmates fill you up with their big, hard cocks?”

You took a sharp breath as heat and wetness flooded your core. “That’s not fair.”

“Who said I’m supposed to play fair?” he responded, quietly, nipping at your earlobe. “If you agree to play, I’ll give you a patented Dean Winchester Backrub.”

Between the stiffness in your joints and the pulsing in between your thighs, you were definitely up for that scenario. “Make it a full-body massage and you’ve got a deal.”

“Awesome. I’ll let Sammy in on the plan.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek and stood to go talk to his brother.

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Your house to hole up in was a large three-story with a brick facade. You, Sam and Dean took the master bedroom with the king-sized bed and Charlie took a smaller room upstairs while Cas and Jack took up guard duty.

“Ooh, look! Bath and Body Works Aromatherapy massage oils,” Dean said from the bathroom. “Jasmine Vanilla or Eucalyptus Spearmint?”

You hummed thoughtfully. “Jasmine Vanilla,” you said as Sam locked the door. You pulled your shirt off over your head and tossed it at the top of the dresser, before unclipping your bra and dropping to the bed.

“No-no-no. You need to take it all off. You said ‘full-body’ and we are doin’ it all,” Dean said, walking out of the bathroom with a pink bottle. “It’s the sensual one.” He smirked as he tapped the label that said ‘Sensual’.

“Pants and panties off. Let’s do this right.” Sam tapped your thigh and smiled as you stood and moved to kick the rest of your clothes off. You laid your body out across the length of the bed and tucked your hands under your hips. You turned your head and shifted for maximum comfort as Dean poured oil on his brother's hands. The smell was nice, so you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. Oil dropped on your back, making you tense momentarily. "Calm down," Sam said, amused.

"You calm down," you responded as you settled again. You sighed contentedly as you felt their slick, warm hands on your back. Their hands ran along your skin, working the muscles until you felt yourself start to melt. Calloused fingers slipping across you, aided by the oil. “Oh, that’s nice,” you whispered, as a set of hands started rubbing your thigh and the other started kneading your ass.

“You like that?” Dean asked.

“Mmm-hmm,” you answered.

“You feelin’ good?” Sam asked.

“Real good.” You hummed happily. The hands on your thigh swept higher, fingertips rubbing at your pussy lips. “Fuck,” you said barely louder than a whisper.

“You ready, baby?” Dean’s fingertips slipped between your lips and rubbed lightly at your clit. “You ready to get filled up?”

You lifted your hips to give him better access, suddenly desperate to feel him...them. You reached out and grabbed at Sam as two of Dean’s fingers slipped inside your cunt. “Let me give you something to play with, huh?” Sam pulled his zipper down and pulled his cock out, wrapping your hand around the base of him and helping you figure out the best way to jack him off from your position. “That’s fuckin’ perfect. Just like that.”

As Dean replaced his fingers with his cock, Sam started fucking your fist, letting out little sexy grunts as Dean grabbed your hips and started thrusting. “Such a perfect, tight little pussy,” Dean growled out, snapping his hips forward as you whimpered. “You’re our perfect angel, aren’t you, baby?”

“She’s amazing,” Sam agreed as you tried to get up on your forearm to better work Sam’s big cock.

“Oh, that’s a nice angle,” Dean said, pushing your ass up a little more. “Fuckin’ perfect.”

“Dean! Oh, God! Fuck, fuck, oh, God, fuck!”

He reached his hand around rubbed at your clit as he started rocking against you. You let go of Sam to set your hand on the mattress, giving you more stability to roll your hips back against Dean, who put more pressure on your clit. “I’m cummin’,” he said, just barely audible.

“My turn,” Sam said, flipping you over as soon as Dean pulled out. You giggled as you looked up at him. He pulled you into his lap and leaned over you, kissing you fiercely as he slid his cock into you. You held onto him for dear life as he fucked you like his life depended on it. You could feel Dean’s seed dripping out of you will each thrust of Sam’s hard length, but you couldn’t care about the mess on the bed because Sam was making your eyes roll back.

You ran your hands through his hair, tugging lightly when his cockhead rammed your cervix. “Oh, Sam! Fuck!”

“Harder, Sammy. Make her feel it ‘til we get to Huntington, little brother,” Dean coached. Sam listened, fucking into you harder and biting at your shoulder to make you scream. "Shit. She is gonna be dripping cum for days, ain't she?"

Sam sucked at your shoulder, grunting as he came deep inside you. He stayed inside for a few moments before kissing you and pulling out. "If she gets pregnant, it's mine," Sam said, leaning back to look between your legs. "Cause that's all you." He pointed at the mess on the sheets and Dean laughed.

"Shut up, Sammy. For all we know, one of my swimmers got to the goal before you even got in her."

You laughed at their bickering and shook your head, turning on your side and getting comfortable. "If I get pregnant, it's both of yours. You're both responsible and there will be no paternity test so shush."

"Yes, ma'am," Dean said, chuckling as they both settled down next to you, each setting a hand against your lower belly.

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

"Why is it that Jack doesn't really sleep but you do?" Charlie asked the next day. You were approaching Huntington, 17 miles according to the last highway sign you passed, and Charlie had started in on 20 Questions several miles back.

"Guess it's a learned thing. I was raised in a universe with no magic so I was less angel grace and more human soul. Soul means sleep. So now it's a habit." You shrugged. "The more nephil-y I get, though, the more time I spend lying there pretending to sleep."

"Interesting, so you are from a completely different universe than your boyfriends?"

"Yeah. I'm from a completely different universe from the one I was raised in, too. It's complicated."

Charlie gestured at the empty road ahead of you. "We have time."

You smiled. "Okay. So, my father...the same archangel as Jack's father just from a different universe…" You didn't want to say the word 'Lucifer'. You weren't sure how she'd take it. "He feared his enemies would use me against him so he sent me away. Gathered up three of his best angels, opened a portal and sent me to the universe where I was raised. I was always an outcast. I knew I was different, that I didn't belong in the situations I found myself in...meth addict mom, convict dad…"

You trailed off, thinking of your 'parents', before clearing your throat. "I became a witch. I just knew I was made for power so I went to where the power seemed to be…but I was the only witch in my universe with anything close to it. It took a few years but eventually I did a spell that, well, it was too big to keep me in that place and I got bounced to their world." You nodded your head at the men. "From there it was a snowball of learning and growing more powerful and falling in love and...running away and...finding family in the most unlikely places…"

"So how powerful are you?" Charlie asked. She shrugged when you turned to look at her. "It's a valid question. You're half archangel. Does that make you half as strong as your father, or what?"

"Stronger," Jack answered from ahead of you. "That's why they're scared of us."

"The human soul is a powerful thing. Arguably more powerful than archangel grace," you explained. "And we've got both."

"And you can do...anything?"

"Not anything. There's gotta be limits."

"What are your limits?"

Your cheeks heated up as you looked at your feet. "I don't know. I haven't found one yet."

"So do you think you can kill him? Michael?"

You stopped in your tracks. "We're not here to kill anyone."

"He's committing genocide of the human race! He's destroying all of us! What, this isn't your world so you don't care?" Charlie accused.

"That's not fair. I'm not a killer. I'm just here to save my-my-"

"You might be able to end this, save the few human beings left and you're gonna stand on some principle that doesn't even matter in war?!"

"It's not my war!" you shouted.

"Hey. We can discuss plans in Huntington, huh?" Dean said, stepping over and wrapping his arms around you. He walked you ahead of the group, arm still around your shoulders. "I know you don't wanna think about it, but you gotta consider what might need to happen."

You stiffened and shook your head. "I don't harm people, Dean. Celestials count."

"Okay, but if we go in there and we can't get Mom out without a confrontation, you and Jack are the only cards we got to play against an archangel," he reminded you quietly, pulling out of the embrace. "Now, I'm sure Jack would have no problem harmin' a celestial to protect the people he cares about, but are you really gonna put that all on him?"

You glared over at him, tears pricking the edges of your eyes. "Are you really gonna put this all on me?"

"I don't want to. You know I don't want to, but if we're going in there, you have to be willing to do what needs to be done."

"So if I'm not willing to kill what amounts to my uncle...you're gonna leave me behind?" you spit out as Sam walked up. Dean didn't answer, just biting his bottom lip.

"What's going on?" Sam asked.

"She's mad at me," Dean responded.

You scoffed at him, shaking a bit in your anger. You weren't just mad at him. You were livid that he would even try to suggest that you might have to kill someone.

"Hey, you okay?" Sam asked.

"I'm fine. Let's just get moving." You stomped to the front of the pack, ignoring everyone's attention as you marched toward Huntington.

You could hear the group talking behind you. "I don't want to, either," Jack said. "But I…I know I can. I will if I have to."

"We don't want either of you to have to, Jack," Sam said. "But...if stealth doesn't work...if we have to fight…"

"I can fight. Even if Y/n won't, I will."

"You are a child!" you said, turning on your heel and glaring at the group. "You shouldn't even be considering it! The fact that-"

"He's a nuke! You both are!" Dean exclaimed. "And if you wanna act like your Rede is more important than your life or ours, then you need to stay behind! Stick it out in Huntington until we get back with Mom!"

"I fucking got us here and you're trying to bench me?! Fuck you!" You spun around and suddenly appeared in front of the 'City of Huntington, West Virginia' sign. You took a deep breath and flopped down in the dirt in front of the faded welcome. You let your frustrated tears spill, hoping they would run dry before the group caught up to you.

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

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[cal-tries-to-write]

Dead men walking

Synopsis: Sam and Dean pick up a case in LA that seems simple enough but once they get there they only hit dead ends. That is until their one decent lead only leads them to almost getting arrested after a run in with some old family friends. A 911/supernatural crack fic.

Warnings: mention of blood and monsters (I’m honestly not to sure what to put here)

A/n Welcome to my first fic I’m publishing! And I decided to make it a rushed crack fic because I’m sad about the ending of superntural and I miss 911. This was also supposed to be a short little joke fic but here we are. Also a huge thank you to @buckleysjareau for helping me work out how the team would react go check her post which gives an amazing scene to what each of the characters are thinking, how they react and their like over all thoughts of the supernatural being real.

“Dean I don’t see why we took this case there are plenty of hunters in LA.”

“Because you were complaining about just sitting around the bunker so I found us a case.”

“Ok but you hate LA, the traffic, the weather, the wait,” Sam stops halfway toward the house smirking at his brother, “this wouldn’t have anything to do with Maddie would it?”

“What Dads old hunting friend’s kid? No. It has to do with the fact that people are dying in weird way.” He scoffed not even bothering to look back at Sam.

“Whatever you say man. But if I remember correctly you had a huge crush on her when we were little didn’t you?” Sam laughed continuing towards the house.

“Shut up.” He glared tearing down the police tape and opening the door.

The outside looked normal, tan siding, windows with the shades drawn, a perfect porch, even a white picket fence but the perfect scenery changed the second they stepped inside. Gibberish covers the walls written in what the boys could only assume was blood. Symbols covered the ceilings and pools of blood the floor.

Sam shuttered looking around the room, he had seen a lot of messed up things, many worse than this, yet for some reason being in the room he was more on edge then ever before. Looking at the blood stained walls he tried to identify any of the words or symbols but failed, “So, I don’t know about you but I don’t recognize any of these words or any of the symbols.

“I’ve got to agree with you there.”

“Well then I say we head to the M.E to look at the bodies to see if there’s any clues there.”

“Yeah sounds like a plan.” After drivin back into the heart of LA he was pulled from his thoughts as Sammy informed him that they would need to stop by the police station before heading to the M.E to get the photos that were taken at the scene.

“Why don’t I drop you off at the M.E and I’ll go to the police station.”

“Alright just don’t forget to pick me when your done.”

“I would never.”

“Sergeant Grant?” Dean asks as he walk the officer the receptionist had told him was first on the scene.

“That would be me. What can I do for you?”

“I’m agent Ackles with the FBI I’m here to ask you a few questions about a 911 call that you responded to and look at the photos and evidence.”

“Let me guess the Briggs house? That place looked straight out of a horror movie when I got there.” She said as she started walking towards the evidence locker.

“Yeah that would be the call.” He replied following behind her.

“The only thing left at the scene was this,” she held up a plastic bag with a golden dagger in it, “well other than the body and writing.”

“Here,” Sergeant Grant handed him the two manila folder she hand been holding, “the crime scene photos. I was just looking over them and I still can’t piece together what happened.”

He thanked her as he left the station and flipped through the folder in the car. About 10 minutes later the only thing he knew is that Mr.Briggs was still alive and holding the knife when first responders got there. He heard his phone buzzing below some of the paper work. He quickly moved the folders to picked it up, “Sammy please tell me you have some clues after seeing the body.”

“I’m afraid not. The body’s fairly clean just cuts all over they seemed to be made by a small knife.”

“So we have no clue to what’s causing this other than a dagger and some bloody symbols and writing. Great,” Dean sighed as hit hit his head on the steering wheel, “okay I’ll be at the M.E in 20 minutes.”

Sam couldn’t make heads or tails or the case, nothing matched up, he could find any of the symbols in any books or online, he could figure out what language the writing was, if they were even actual words, he reminded himself. After sitting at his computer for a good two hours he decided he may have better luck getting information from the case files Dean had picked up earlier. They didn’t give him much but they did give him a lead to start with the next day, after the call was placed medical was dispatched first, arrived first and even got there before the guy died, the police were called after they walked in and saw the blood on the walls and ceiling. The statements came from a Captain Robert Nash and after a quick google search Sam found he worked at station 118.

“Get dressed,” Sam called into their room, “I found us a lead on the case. Or at least I think I did.”

“What’s the lead?” He yawned sitting up and stretched his arms.

“The cop you visited yesterday, Sergeant Grant, she wasn’t the first person on the scene. Medical was called first specifically the 118. And when they got there Mr.Briggs was still alive so we’re going to the station in hopes they have some information that the police reports missed.”

“And you can’t go by yourself because?”

“Because I don’t feel like interveiwing 6 people entirely on my own.”

“Fine.”

“Eddie!” Buck called after his friend as they walked towards the station.

“Buck.” He stopped and waited for him to catch up.

“Did you know that there’s a suprising amount of sibling serial killer?”

“I didn’t.”

“Well there are a ton. Like there were these two brothers who traveled across the US posing as FBI agents and killing people in mass amounts. They actually managed to make it to the top of the actual FBI’s most wanted list in record time. That was until they got caught and supposedly died in custody.”

“Supposedly?” Eddie gave him a questioning look as they entered the locker room.

“Well there have been tons of reports on people seeing them after their supposed deaths. And there’s a bunch of theories they escaped but the FBI didn’t want people worrying so they said they died.”

“Did you get any sleep last night of did you spend the whole night researching serial killers?”

“I got some sleep.” Buck yawned looking offended. He finished buttoning his shirt and then running to catch up with Eddie who was heading upstairs. Eddie just laughed at him.

After getting in a brief nap at the start of the shift then nothing but non stop calls the team finally got a break as they got started getting ready for dinner.

“Is Maddie going to stop by for dinner?” Chimney asked as he handed plates to Buck to set the table.

“I figured you would know considering your her boyfriend.”

“And you her brother.”

“Touché, and yeah she said she would try to stop by.”

“Buck can you go see what the two guys in suits want.” Bobby asked as less of a question and more of an order.

“On it,” He setting down the last plate running down the stairs only to freeze once he got fairly close to the two guys.

“I’m Agent Ackles and this is my partner agent Padelecki we were hoping to talk to Captain Nash?”

Buck completely terrified with fear said the first thing that came to his mind which was, “No your not.”

The two ‘agents’ looked back and forth between themselves than at him. “I’m sorry?” The taller one, Sam, Buck remembered from the article said.

“Buck you ok?” Eddie spoke from behind him causing all three of them to jump slightly.

Eddie took a step closer to his friend seeing that he was clearly uncomfortable.

“We are agents Ackles and,”

He was cut off by Buck saying louder than probably necessary, “They’re serial killers from the article I was telling you about.” 

As everyone in the stations head suddenly turned towards the four men on the main floor after hearing Buck say that the people he’s talking to are serial killer. Eddie took a step forward putting himself between Buck and the two ‘agents’.

“Wait, what, no we’re not serial killers.” Sam said putting his hands up, “Look your Evan Buckley right?”

Dean gave looked at his brother like he was insane. There was no way this was little Evan Buckley. Maddies baby brother, who last time they saw him was barely tall enough to reach counter tops. This guy looked like he could bench Dean.

“How do you know that?” Buck looked even more terrified now.

“Yeah how do you know that?” Dean looked at him confused himself now.

Sam turned to explain to Dean ignoring the looks Buck and Eddie were giving him, “Maddie and I kept in touch and after I left to go to school we started talking more. So,” he turned back to Buck and Eddie, “if we can talk to her I’m sure,”

“What do you want with Maddie?” Chimney, who along with Hen and Bobby had joined them on the main floor, questioned with a pissed look on his face.

“Im going to call Athena.” Hen said pulling out her phone and dialing Athenas number.

“I did the second Buck said serial killers.” Bobby told her. Hen stopped dialing and put her phone away.

Both of Sam and Dean were now even more worried with the threat of cops coming to the station. “Wait please just give us a minute to explain.” Sam attempted to defuse the situation.

“Sam? Dean?” Maddie called as she walked into the station, “What’s going on?”

“Maddie,” Sam sighed in relief, “Thank god can you please tell your brother we are not serial killers?”

She shifted her gaze between Sam and Dean and Bobby, Chimney, Hen, Buck, and Eddie. “Yeah they’re not serial, what are you two doing here?” Her eyebrows were knitted together as she walked towards the group and faced them.

“Ummm Maddie why are you talking to the serial killers like you know them? And like they’re good friends of yours and not serial killers?” Chimney asked.

“Because I do? Wait why do you all think they’re serial killers?” She looked at them realizing they all looked panicked, “Loom let’s all sit down and we can talk this out, alright?”

“So all of it, everything like ghosts, demons, shifters, vampires, werewolves, it’s all real?” Eddie questioned with a suprisingly calm look on his face, “And you,” he motioned to Sam and Dean who were sitting across the table, “you guys kill them?”

“Yeah.” Maddie answered from next to them, “I did too when we were younger that’s how I know the Winchesters. John and our dad used to go on hunts together and when we got older the boys and I did too.”

“I’m sorry can we back track here? So MONSTERS like honest to god MONSTERS are real and YOU hunted them? Is that what you and dad did on your hunting trips? Killing not deer but DEMONS! You could have gotten hurt! And how come I never learned any of this?” Buck stared at his sister across the table. He looked more distressed about learning his sister used to hunt these monster than learning about the monsters themselves.

Maddie let out a sigh, “Mom and Dad were very divided on the whole hunting thing. Dad wanted us to learn to be hunters because that’s how he grew up, Mom didn’t. So they compromised the first born kid, would learn all about monsters and how to hunt them, the second kid, would be kept completely in the dark about the supernatural.”

“The supernatural is real,” Eddie mumbled under his breath before raising his voice, “I knew it.”

Everyone immediately turned their heads towards him. A blush crept up his face once he realized he had said that louder than intended, “My sisters used to tease me all the time because I loved everything supernatural as a kid. I also believed in a lot of it to so they used it to play pranks on me.”

“Bobby everything alright?” Athena suddenly called from the main floor, “I got your text saying that you had two serial killers just walk into the station?”

Bobby stood up and hesitated as Athena climbed the stairs into the loft, before he looked at Sam and Dean then at Maddie and his team, “Yeah everything’s just fine. It was just a false alarm.”

Eddie jumped in to explain a little further when Athena gives him the ‘are you saying that because you’re in danger’ look, “Buck here thought agents Ackles and Padelecki looked like two serial killers from an article he read last night. I think the lack of sleep is finally getting to him.” He laughed off the second part.

She bummed before turning towards Sam and Dean, “Agent Ackles and you must be agent Padelecki. What are you two doing here?”

Sam spoke up quickly, “The police reports said the 118 was the first on the scene so we figured we stop by and see if they had and extra information that might help the case.”

She nodded understanding the help first hand accounts can have, “Well Ive got to get back to work. I’ll see you all later, and I will see you at home.” She walked over to Bobby giving him a quick kiss before turning around heading back down the stairs.

“I can’t believe you almost got your sisters friends arrested because you thought they were serial killers.” Hen laughed at Buck

“I mean technically I wasn’t being dumb the serial killers were them just not THEM.”

“I hope you know that sentence make absolutely no sense even with context.”

“So,” Maddie turned back around in her chair to face Sam and Dean, “you two never did explain what you are doing here.”

“Right,” Sam sat up straighter, “we heard about the Briggs house and it looked like something in our domain so we figured we check it out.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “Except we have found anything that helps us solve the case or figure out if it’s even remotely supernatural.”

Maddie stood up and pushed her chair in,“Well then, what can I do to help?” She said looking Sam and Dean in the eye.

A/n so that got long and I decided to stop that there because I like that as the last line. I might make a part two but I’m also working on another less cracky 911 fic. And I know super creative alias for Sam and Dean. Sorry about the weird spacing tumblr didn’t like me copying and pasting from docs apparently.

[seeaddywrite]

give me strength so i can see (buddie; 9-1-1)

wow, okay, this is absolutely not something i should have written before i finished one of my wips, but this is what happened. i fully blame 9-1-1 & the chemistry between Buck & Eddie, because i couldn’t NOT write fic after the tsunami arc ended. this is my first foray into the fandom & their heads, so please be kind. also, this fic would not exist in its entirety without @soberqueerinthewild, who is always the best cheerleader, beta, & person around. <3 i’ve been in a bit of writing slump lately, so it feels really good to actually finish something!

warnings for self-loathing, references to depression, & excessive amounts of adverbs. 

The moment that Buck sees Christopher safely reunited with his father, all of the stress and adrenaline that had kept him going for the last several hours floods away instantaneously. He collapses forward, uncaring of the hard ground that rushes up to meet him. Hen and Chimney stop him from face-planting on the floor of the emergency hospital, but Buck barely tracks their reassurances or their hands as they try to assess the damage he’s done to himself in his frantic attempts to find Christopher. Buck wants to tell them to stop, that he’s fine, that all he ever needed was to witness the scene unfolding in front of them, with Eddie and Christopher, but he can’t quite manage the words through his chattering teeth. Blood loss is a bitch, and teamed with exhaustion, Buck knows it’ll take a while before he’s fully able to interact with the world again. 

Right now, that feels like a positive. The only two people he wants to talk to are half a hospital away, wrapped up in each other. Even when he regains feeling in his legs and is steady enough to leave the hospital, he doesn’t try to go near them. Instead, Buck watches from a distant cot as Christopher is checked out by a doctor and his father’s careful, assessing gaze, and slips through Chim and Hen’s guard to leave the makeshift hospital a moment after Chis is pronounced healthy, if tired and cold. 

It’s cowardly for him to leave like this, he knows, without so much as an apology to the brave little boy or any attempt to make this up to Eddie, but Buck is too tired to fight, and he’s not sure he could remain standing under the direct onslaught of Eddie’s entirely justified anger that night. Buck would face up to his mistakes later, but for now, it seems kinder for all of them to slip back to the apartment that doesn’t quite feel like a home and hide away under the blankets that still reek of depression and listlessness.  

It’s hard to sleep that night, despite the exhaustion plaguing him. The day’s events play on repeat in his head, waking him with a jolt every time he  manages to doze off. Every mistake is so obvious in retrospect -- had he really expected a child with cerebral palsy to keep himself steady on top of a floating fire truck? If he hadn’t had to play the hero, if he’d just stayed up there with Chris, it never would have happened. Buck would have had the little boy securely in his arms the entire time. He would never have been lost, or dependent on the kindness of strangers to get him to a hospital. Buck would never have been forced to look Eddie in the eye and tell him that he’d lost his son, or watch that familiar, impossibly deep gaze fill with grief and horror and blame before Chris’s miraculous reappearance. 

If Buck hadn’t had to play the fucking hero, maybe he would have finally been able to tell Eddie the truth about how he felt in the rush of victory, of survival and reunion. Maybe he would’ve finally had the guts to admit that being a best friend isn’t what he wants anymore, to say the words he’s been mulling over for what seems like forever. Maybe, just maybe, he could have discovered whether or not there was a chance for them to take things further -- but none of that matters now. The fear of being into guys -- or at least Eddie? Buck hasn’t quite figured that part out yet -- pales in comparison to the pain of losing a best friend and Christopher, who’d managed to get under his skin and cuddle in close to Buck’s heart when he wasn’t looking.  

In the end, Buck gets out of bed earlier than usual, giving up on sleep. There’s a slim chance that leaving his bed will stop his thoughts from continuing on that same, downward spiral, and Buck’s nothing if not a gambler. He winds up at the kitchen table, staring out at the sunrise with a beer sitting half-empty in front of him -- just staring out as the new day begins. It’s incredible, he muses, that from here, he could almost pretend nothing catastrophic had happened the day before. The sun is still rising, the birds are still chirping, the neighbors below him are still arguing at decibels loud enough to wake the dead. It’s the same as always, and just as he had for the last six months, Buck finds himself wondering how the world outside can simply keep going when his own personal world had come to a screeching halt. Only today, it’s worse than just losing his job, his identity. Now he’s lost his best friend, too, and the trust of a child he cares about. The losses are far more grievous.

A knock at the apartment door shakes him out of the self-loathing stupor, and Buck drags his aching body out of the kitchen chair with a groan. His bad leg throbs with the addition of his weight, but Buck has a lot of practice at ignoring that, these days, so he continues on with barely a limp, and opens the door, expecting to find Maddie, with her relentless optimism, or Bobby, with yet another pep talk prepared.

Instead, Eddie stares back at him from the hallway, his hands resting comfortably on Chris’s small shoulders as the little boy totters forward on his back-up crutches to hug Buck with a wide, blameless smile. Buck stands, stiff with astonishment, and pats Chris awkwardly on the back, still staring at Eddie, trying to figure out what the other man is playing at. Old instincts make him defensive, stiff, as Eddie leads Christopher into the apartment and begins rattling off the contents of the bag he’s plopped on the table next to Buck’s half-empty bottle. 

It’s hard, but Buck manages to tear his attention from Christopher, who’s sitting happily on the coffee table in front of the TV, to try to get a read on Eddie’s expression. Is this some kind of test? Is Buck supposed to play along, or is he supposed to blow up so Eddie has an easy excuse for Chris about why he’s not allowed to come over anymore? Buck has no idea, and the indecision makes him swallow harshly. He doesn’t want to fuck anything up any worse than he already has— by some miracle, he has both of the Diaz men in his home again, and God, Buck wants to keep them there. The sense of family they’ve given him in the last six months of hell is better than anything he’s had since he left home, and losing it once almost killed him. Losing it a second time, now, before he’s had the chance to say something? Buck doesn’t  think he could do it. 

“You want me to watch Christopher?” The words are incredulous, and not half as even as Buck would have liked, but he manages to keep his voice from cracking, so he takes the win where he can. 

Eddie’s less than a foot away now; Buck has closed the distance between at some point, but he honestly couldn’t pinpoint when. There’s no waver in his dark gaze, no uncertainty or anger, and Buck has no idea what to make of it, especially when his response is teasing and light. “It’s easy— he’s not very fast.”

Buck swallows the surprised response that threatens and schools his expression into something resembling calm, but his gut churns nervously. Everything about this interaction screams too easy, and if he’s learned anything through physical therapy, it’s that if something seems too easy, it probably is. No pain, no reward, his therapist is fond of reminding him, and Buck has always agreed. Then again, he’s never feared physical pain. This? The emotional toll of facing Eddie and Chris after his failures? That’s fucking terrifying.

“After everything that happened-“ 

“A natural disaster happened, Buck.”

Part of Buck wants to scoff, to point out everything that had happened after the natural disaster couldn’t be blamed on nature, not unless it was Buck’s. It is in his nature to tend toward making stupid fucking calls in the heat of the moment, after all. The other part of him soaks up Eddie’s words like a plant does sunlight. He keeps his eyes averted, though, still unable to accept it, unable to even fathom the possibility that Eddie doesn’t hate him. Because he should. Buck knows, because he’s pretty sure he hates himself. 

“I lost him, Eddie,” he manages, the reminder a low, defeated croak. Memories from the day before flicker in the spaces between words, broken images and impressions of the desperate search for Christopher, and Buck has to swallow once, twice, to defeat the nausea threatening to overcome him. Buck’s not a parent, isn’t sure he’ll ever be one, but he loves Christopher like his own, and the idea of losing him for good is more than enough to bring him to his knees.

 But Christopher is alive. He’d made it out of the tsunami despite Buck’s hubris, and is happily watching cartoons in the living room. 

The mental reminder is enough to stop Buck from vomiting on Eddie’s shoes, at least. 

“You saved him. That’s how he remembers it.” Eddie pauses, like he’s trying to let the weight of his words sink through Buck’s thick skull. And it’s not like Buck doesn’t want to believe it, doesn’t want to stop seeing every moment of that horrible day on repeat every time he closes his eyes. There’s not much he wouldn’t do to stop the sinking pit of guilt in his stomach, or the squirming sense of self-loathing when he comes close to meeting Eddie’s gaze. But he can’t. The fact that Christopher made it out alive doesn’t make up for Buck’s mistake, and Eddie knows that. Buck had read the blame in his eyes before Christopher showed up at the hospital, seen the way his entire body had shifted away from Buck and into tight, tense lines that spoke of a strong desire to punch him in the face -- at the least. 

It had hurt, torn open whatever parts of him weren’t already bleeding with Christopher’s loss, and Buck couldn’t forget it, so this entire conversation felt almost dreamlike, a fantasy that Buck isn’t sure he can trust, no matter how much he’d like to. 

“And now it’s turn to do the same for you,” Eddie continues, oblivious to Buck’s internal conflict. 

And God, Buck wants that. He wants to put the entire disaster behind him, ignore all of the ways he’d fucked up and cling to the second chance Eddie seems to be offering without talking about it -- but Buck’s played that game before. He knows how it always ends. Bottling difficult things never works for long, and the resulting explosion is usually worse than whatever the actual problem was. 

So Buck trails Eddie into his living room, staying just a step behind, and shakes his head when he feels himself become the focus on that intense gaze once again. “I was -- I was supposed to watch out for him,” he tries again, stumbling over the words he doesn’t really want to say. Buck doesn’t do shy or shrinking; his entire life has been about taking up space, being unapologetically himself, but this is different, somehow. This is Eddie, whose opinion has meant too damn much to Buck since the first day they locked eyes at the station, who’s such an integral part of Buck’s life and happiness that the idea of losing him sucks the air from Buck’s lungs. This matters, in a way that nothing but firefighting and Maddie ever had, and Buck won’t screw it up again. He can’t. 

“And what, you think you failed?” 

Damn it, did Eddie have to sound so nonchalant about this? Of course Buck failed! Christopher had been missing for six fucking hours -- no matter how that equation’s set up, the answer is still the same. 

“Buck, I’ve failed that kid more times than I care to count, and I’m his father.”

The words are layered in empathy, in a sense of understanding, that makes something constrict tightly in Buck’s chest. Eddie shouldn’t be comparing Buck’s failure to the trials of being an actual parent -- the two aren’t even remotely close. Christopher has always been safe, happy, and cared for with his father, and Buck knows it because he’s seen it. He’s seen Eddie fight for his son to have the best education, the best childcare, the best of everything. He’s seen Eddie cut himself off from dating on the off chance Christopher would get hurt, seen him leave his own home and family in order for Christopher to be closer to his. There’s nothing Eddie wouldn’t do for the boy, and knows that Eddie’s never really failed his son. Not when it counted. So he can’t help the short, instinctive shake of his head at the reassurance, because it’s just not true. 

“But I love him enough to never stop trying, and I know you do, too.”

Unnamed emotion clogs Buck’s throat, and he glances down at the floor, swallowing hard. It’s been hard to play the tough, cool guy the last several months, so Eddie’s already seen him as weak and vulnerable as Buck can get -- career-ending injuries, a lack of mobility, and obvious depression hadn’t done great things for his rep around the 118, not that Buck had particularly cared at the time. Eddie’d been around the most, though, only slightly less often than Maddie, and had seen it all. So it should be easy to admit to loving Christopher, to caring more about his best friend’s son than he cared about anyone outside of Maddie and the 118 squad. 

It isn’t. 

Buck doesn’t get a chance to say anything, which is probably a blessing. One of Eddie’s large, work-roughened hands claps his shoulder, and warmth bleeds through the thin cotton of Buck’s t-shirt and sends a thrill down his spine. He still doesn’t manage to meet the eyes waiting on him until he hears his name, the single syllable infused with an order that Buck can’t quite ignore. 

But once he gives in, Buck’s immediately lost to the intensity of Eddie’s familiar dark gaze. He’s so close, now, and the heat his body throws off is slowly seeping into the icy chasm in Buck’s chest. Maybe, he realizes, he can trust this -- trust Eddie. Because no matter what has gone on between them, no matter how much of an ass Buck has been, there’s never been any reason to doubt Eddie’s sincerity; and there’s no way he’d so cruel as to dangle forgiveness and understanding in front of Buck only to yank it away at the last minute. 

“There is nobody,” Eddie begins firmly, and the open honesty in his face makes Buck shiver. Paired with the soft tapping of his thumb against the exposed skin of Buck’s collarbone, it would be all too easy for Buck to sway into the broad chest in front of him and know that Eddie would catch him. “ -- in this world that I trust with my son more than you.” 

It’s the last thing he expects to hear, and Buck blinks rapidly at Eddie, trying to understand how it could possibly be true after the previous day’s terror -- but there’s no hesitation in Eddie’s stance, no hint of uncertainty or the blame Buck knows he caught yesterday at the hospital. Buck swallows again, the sound of his throat working audible in the sudden quiet. Thanks and emotional confessions jam in his mouth until he can’t say anything, and Eddie doesn’t give him a chance before he’s squeezing Buck’s shoulder and dropping the point of contact to go say goodbye to Christopher in the living room. 

Though his skin is cold where Eddie’s touch lingered, Buck’s grateful for the reprieve. He turns his head and wipes at damp eyes, trying to regain some of the composure he’s lost. Eddie is too good at stripping down every defense, at seeing past all of his walls and leaving Buck open and vulnerable. It’s why he was the only one who could cajole Buck into going to PT after his last surgery, when things were looking hopeless, why he alone could drag Buck out of bed when even Bobby and Athena got shown the door -- hell, Eddie had even wound up with a fucking spare key to the apartment when Maddy didn’t even have one. And Buck is tired of being weak and vulnerable, of needing constant reassurance that he’s wanted and forgiven. This broken-down, over-emotional man he’s become isn’t who Evan Buckley is, and Buck suddenly needs to make that really damn clear to Eddie. 

But Eddie’s already on his way out the door with a few teasing comments about staying in-land, so Buck lets him go with a chuckle that feels natural, even if the circumstances don’t. He pivots on his good leg to join Christopher in front of the television, only to stop short when Eddie pops his head back in the door. 

“Thank you,” he says, in that same voice that’s sent chills down Buck’s spine at least twice that morning. “For not giving up.” And Eddie’s gone before Buck can summon any sort of response beyond the frustrated yearning that builds in the pit of his stomach when he vanishes out of the doorframe. Buck stares after him helplessly -- and god damn it, it’s not fair that Eddie can be so damned perfect when Buck is still reeling. He’s had months to come to terms with the fact that Eddie is ridiculously good-looking; and it’s never been a big deal that he likes to watch him work out, once in a while. So does pretty much everyone at the station. But this want, this desperation for Eddie’s approval, for his care and closeness -- that’s not normal. That’s not straight. And yeah, okay, maybe Buck’s had a few hints that he could be into guys before, maybe he’s considered and discarded the idea a few times over the years, but it’s never been like this. It’s never been so all-consuming, so impossible to ignore. It’s never been so terrifying. Not because Eddie’s a guy; Buck could care less about that. But Eddie is Buck’s best friend. Hell, outside of the others at the 118, Eddie’s his only friend. The rest have all disappeared, lost in the gaping chasm that separates first responders from civilians who could never understand the pull of the job, no matter how dangerous it might be. And then, of course, there’s Christopher -- the kid who’s still sitting in the living room in front of the TV, patiently waiting for Buck to get his shit together and join him. 

Right. Crisis later. Babysitting now. 

He can do this, one step at a time. Eddie’s not mad at him, and if he says that Chris isn’t either, then Buck can take him at his word. Buck drags in a slow breath, straightens his shoulders, and goes to join the child on the couch with a genuine, if small, smile.

“Hey, buddy …” 

****** 

They spend the day in the apartment, this time. Buck wants to say that it’s because they deserve a lazy day after previous one’s mess, but really, there’s a large part of him that’s afraid to set foot outside with Christopher, no matter how slim the chance of a second natural disaster. So they spend hours on the floor of the living room building increasingly complex structures with Legos and order that pizza Eddie prescribed and devour the entire thing --  if Buck eats a little more than he normally would, it definitely isn’t because Eddie told him to. It’s light and uncomplicated, just easy camaraderie that Buck never expected himself capable of finding with anyone, let alone a little kid, and the ease of it all is enough to allow some of his anxiety to bleed away. For the first time in the last thirty-six hours, Buck is truly able to relax. 

Christopher’s energy starts to wane after dinner, so Buck takes the initiative to put in one of the movies shoved in the bag Eddie packed for him. They end up in a pile of blankets and cushions on the floor -- Buck’s leg is stiff and sore after yesterday’s exertions, and Christopher hasn’t said anything, but he’s moving a lot more slowly than usual, and taking extra care when he does, so Buck guesses that he’s in some pain, too. Cerebral Palsy isn’t something he knows a whole lot about, but a lack of muscle tone is pretty obvious, and clinging to poles and other floating refuse during the tsunami had to have taken a toll on his little body. Not that Christopher had ever complained -- and that, right there, is yet another reason for Buck to be in awe of what that child is capable of. 

“Buck?” 

The small voice interrupts whatever animated crap is on the screen, and Buck glances down at Chris in askance. From this angle, all he can see is blonde curls; Chris has his cheek pressed against Buck’s chest, and is curled up beneath one arm. The warm weight against his body has Buck half asleep himself, but he rouses enough to ask, “Yeah?” 

“You didn’t lose me.” The simple, sleepy words make Buck’s heart seize, and he stares down at the top of Christopher’s head, trying to form words with numb lips. “I heard you tell Daddy that you did, but you didn’t.” Buck is struck speechless. He freezes, and the silence in the room seems a condemnation of his inability to speak, but Christopher doesn’t seem to mind. He presses on, unconcerned. “You found me, and I kept swimming, just like Dory, and I found you and Daddy. And I’m safe, and you’re safe, and we don’t need to be scared anymore.”  The matter-of-fact, blunt sentiment is hard for Buck to swallow, but he runs a hand over Christopher’s disheveled curls and down his back, anyway.

“I’m sorry you had to be scared at all, buddy,” he says honestly, and manages to keep his voice level and calm, despite the uncertainty he feels. “But you’re right. You’re safe now, and that’s what matters.” It seems like the most natural thing in the world to drop a casual kiss to the crown of blonde hair, and Buck doesn’t allow himself to second-guess the impulse when it’s done. “Come on, kid, you’re falling asleep. Let’s get you up to bed, huh? Your dad won’t be here for another few hours, and I think we both deserve a nap.” It’s not his most graceful or subtle subject change, but Chris is young enough not to notice -- or tactful enough to let it go, Buck’s honestly not sure which. 

Mock complaints and grumblings get tossed around, but Christopher clings to Buck’s neck as he carries him up the stairs and helps him settle into the bed with a minimum amount of fuss. They lay on the mattress together for half an hour, until Christopher’s breathing is slow and even, and there’s no hint of wakefulness on his young face. Buck knows better than to ruin his progress with sleeping during the day; that’s a one-way ticket back to the land of depression and hopelessness, and he refuses to fall back into bad habits. Instead, he slides from the bed, careful not to jolt the other occupant, and heads downstairs. He hadn’t had a chance to do his stretches and exercises from physical therapy that day, yet, and he knows he needs to -- firefighter or no, he’s not losing any mobility. The stretches have the added bonus of requiring all of his attention and focus, so his mind won’t wander to any dark places. Or any Eddie-shaped places, which Buck is pretty sure he should avoid, too. 

So that’s how Eddie finds Buck an hour or so later, sweat-soaked and lying, arms and legs akimbo, on the living room floor. He hadn’t heard a knock, or even the door opening, over the pounding of his own heart, and Buck flails upright into a sitting position when he hears the familiar chuckle from the entryway. 

“Only you would spend an entire day fighting a tsunami and still feel like you need to work out the next day,” Eddie says lightly as he enters the room, dressed in the same casual outfit from this morning. There’s a cut above his eye that hadn’t been there before, and Buck knows him well enough to read the fatigue in the set of his shoulders and the lines around his mouth. He recognizes that look from a hundred rough shifts, and can imagine what Eddie’s seen today on clean-up duty from the tsunami. He shudders, then carefully picks himself up off the ground and leads his guest into the kitchen to grab them both a beer without asking if Eddie wants one.

“Can’t slack off on PT,” Buck explains as they both settle down at the tiny kitchen table. “I may not be a firefighter anymore, but I’m not going to get stuck working behind a desk somewhere.” He can’t quite look directly at Eddie, but it’s easier now than it had been this morning to try. The sucking pit of desolation in his chest is gone, replaced by a stupid, schoolgirl flutter of nerves in his gut when they stand too close, and Buck doesn’t really know what to do with that -- but it’s easier than waiting to hear if Eddie’s decided to close him out of his and Christopher’s life for good. 

“You’re not going to end up behind a desk,” Eddie says firmly. There’s a frown forming between his brows, and something distinctly unhappy in the way he’s staring at Buck. Before the latter has a chance to question it, Eddie stands up and grabs both bottles of beer from the table. Without a word, he shoves both of them back in the fridge, then turns to face Buck again with his chin raised in challenge. “Unless you keep drinking your breakfast, lunch, and dinner, that is. Did you even eat today?” 

Buck’s spine stiffens defensively. “Chris ate lunch and dinner,” he says carefully. There’s good reason for Eddie to doubt that Buck’s been taking good care of his son, after all, even if this morning it had seemed they were passed it. “And I wouldn’t drink when I was watching him, Eddie.” 

A complicated series of emotions flickers over Eddie’s face, but it’s hidden behind one large hand before Buck can even try to translate it. “I didn’t ask if Christopher had eaten,” he says quietly, and drags his hand down his face to rest on the table directly in front of Buck. The movement has him leaning down, leaving them so close that their faces mere inches from each other. Immediately, the speed of Buck’s heartbeat kicks up a notch, and he curses himself for reacting so inappropriately to mere proximity. “I told you this morning, man -- I trust you with my son. I know you wouldn’t drink while you were watching him, or forget to feed him, just like I know you never gave up on him yesterday.” 

Buck chews on the inside of his cheek for a moment, then deliberately leans back in his chair, trying to put some space between them before he answers. “Then what’s up with the third degree?” he demands, trying for some semblance of his usual bravado. “If you really thought I was taking good care of Christopher, why are you --”

“Because Christopher isn’t the only person I care about, Buck,” Eddie cuts in sharply. Frustration emanates from him in waves, and Buck wants to offer reassurance, but he’s too busy trying not to read too far into those words to manage it. Eddie cares about him. He’s known that for months -- caring isn’t the same as wanting to be with someone romantically. The two of them are friends. Best friends. And Buck needs to get ahold of himself before he says or does something to ruin that. 

“What --” 

“Don’t sit there and act like you don’t know what I mean!” Eddie shoves away from the table and paces in a circle around the table, never taking his eyes off of Buck as he does so. Unlike other moments when Eddie looks at him, Buck finds he doesn’t like this sort of scrutiny. It leaves him feeling like all of his weakest, most fragile parts have been put on display, and Buck’s never been good at admitting to his own problems. “It was bad enough when you were laid up from surgery, but now you’re either drinking or sleeping, or pushing yourself way too hard in PT. You’ve been losing weight for weeks, and it’s not healthy, Buck! I’m worried about you!”

Silence reigns in the kitchen for a long moment as Buck tamps down hard on the impulse to bellow that he’s fine, and no one asked Eddie to worry about him -- that’s the response of a scared man-child, not the person that Buck is trying to be. And truthfully, it’s nice to know that someone’s looking out for him. The others at the 118 and Maddy try, Buck knows, but they’re easy to reassure. A grin here, a cock-sure comment about his prowess there, a playful slug to the shoulder, and almost everyone sees him as the same old Buck who’d gotten into the fire engine the night of the bombings. 

Eddie’s not that easy to fob off, and as much as it makes Buck feel uncomfortable, it makes him feel seen. 

“I’m okay, Eddie,” he says instead, and lifts his chin to hold the skeptical gaze aimed at him. “I am, really.” The words feel honest, for the first time in quite a while, and Buck even manages a genuine smile. “You were right, when you dropped Chris off yesterday. Hanging out with him -- it was what I needed.” Buck shakes his head in remembered awe of the little boy and his strength. Even stranded in rushing water higher than his head, clinging to a pole for dear life, Christopher had been braver than Buck ever could be, and his courage and grace under pressure had shown Buck exactly how much work he had to do to deserve any part of the life he felt entitled to. “You and him -- even with everything yesterday -- you guys made me realize I needed to do something different, or I was going to end up somewhere I never wanted to be.” His smile thins, slightly, and Buck reaches out to touch one of the arms crossed over Eddie’s chest. “Even if I’m still not sure how you forgave me so easily, after what I did.” 

An exasperated huff escapes Eddie’s mouth, and gives the impression that if this were a cartoon, he’d be tossing his hands in the air. “Buck, there was never anything to forgive!” he says, voice pitched just low enough that it wouldn’t wake Christopher. “You got stuck in a tsunami. I know you’ve got an ego, but you can’t really take credit for a natural disaster. And Christopher is fine!” 

“But he almost wasn’t!” Buck interjects, tired of being the rational one in the room. If Eddie seriously wants to have this conversation, then he’s going to have to face the truth, too. “Give me a fucking break, Eddie -- those two mintues between me telling you I’d lost him and that woman showing up with Chris in her arms? You did blame me. You looked at me, and that’s all I could see, okay? You did blame me. And you were right. I messed up. I was supposed to look out for your son, and I failed, and it’s okay for you to blame me for it.” 

God, Buck’s tired. He hasn’t been until this moment, but it’s like this argument and facing these awful truths have sapped every last bit of energy from his veins, and he’s not sure how much longer he’ll be up for arguing with Eddie in his kitchen. He leans forward on his elbows over the table an exhales gustily, then lifts his chin again, determined to catch the moment when Eddie finally admits the truth to himself. 

But instead of the realization Buck has been expecting, Eddie’s face is only showing that same frustration. They freeze like that for a moment, Buck leaning against the table and trying hard to hold himself together, Eddie staring down at him from his position against the wall of the kitchen, arms folded over his chest, that guilt-laden frustration obvious in his expression. 

Then, faster than Buck can track, Eddie’s standing in front of his chair, grabbing his elbows and pulling him to his feet. It’s a gentle yank, and Buck could have ignored it if he chose, but he’s shocked enough by Eddie’s closeness that he goes along with it. They end up toe-to-toe, close enough that Buck can feel warm breath on his cheek, and there’s nowhere to look that doesn’t end with him staring back into Eddie’s dark eyes. 

“Look at me now,” Eddie tells him quietly, and Buck has to quell a shiver as two solid hands land on both of his shoulders, squeezing with just a little too much pressure to be truly comfortable. “I want you to stand here, and look straight at me while I tell you this: I do not blame you for what happened yesterday. I’m grateful to you for not giving up on him, okay? I know you love him, and I can’t even tell you how relieved I am that he has you in his corner.”

This feels like the conversation they should have had this morning, when more was being left unsaid that wasn’t, and this time, Buck isn’t going to pretend. “I do love him,” he admits, still looking straight into Eddie’s face. Vulnerability is hard, but it would be harder to keep pretending -- and Buck’s so damn tired of pretending. “And I, uh … I believe you.” Because there’s no denying reality, not when it’s quite literally staring him in the face. No matter what he saw, or thought he saw, yesterday, Eddie really doesn’t blame Buck for losing Christopher. They’re still solid, still good, and Buck’s not losing anyone. 

Relief swamps him as hard as any of the waves from the day before, even though Buck had thought he’d stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop that morning. Apparently, anxiety isn’t that easy to get rid of, even when it’s not screaming in the back of his head. He shifts to take a step back, to carry himself out of Eddie’s gravitational pull, before he ends up falling into his chest or something equally embarrassing, but Eddie’s grip just tightens on his shoulders, not allowing Buck to go anywhere. 

A second passes, two, and Eddie leans in a little closer, until they’re sharing the same breath. Buck swallows convulsively, telling himself over and over that he’s misreading the situation, that this can’t be what it feels like, but he can’t stop his eyes drifting down Eddie’s face to catch stubbornly on his mouth.  Full lips quirk up in a smirk, and heat rushes to pool in Buck’s belly. He doesn’t know what this moment is or how they got here, doesn’t know where they’re going next, but that smirk tells him everything that he needs to know: Eddie knows what Buck wants. Knows how he feels. Probably has for a while. 

And he hasn’t gone anywhere.

“I keep waiting for you to figure it out,” Eddie says in a low voice, and Buck’s eyelashes flutter before he can remind himself that he wants to be wholly present in this moment and doesn’t want to miss a damn thing. “I don’t go around telling everyone I meet that I trust them with my son’s life, Buck. Outside of my family, you’re it, do you get that?” It’s Eddie’s turn to swallow, and Buck tracks the movement of his throat with wide eyes. “You’re it.”

There’s a different meaning to the words the second time Eddie says them, and Buck feels like a kid at the eye doctor, putting glasses on for the first time. When he looks back at every interaction he’s had with Eddie since the bombs, he can see the same want reflected in Eddie’s face that has stared back at him in the mirror every day. When he runs his eyes over Eddie’s expression, he can read the same nervous hope, the same uncertainty, beneath his confident exterior. 

And this time, when Eddie leans further into his space, Buck leans back. 

Their lips bump together, almost incidentally, a soft kiss that’s more of a test than it is a true embrace. Buck’s heart leaps, and the anxious flutter in his stomach is back as he tips his head to correct the angle. The second time their lips meet, it’s better -- Eddie lets out a soft, surprised huff of air, and Buck takes advantage, pulling him closer with impatient hands at the belt loops of his jeans. He’s not thinking anymore, stopped sometime around when Eddie’s fingers tightened around his shoulders, and it feels so good to lose himself, to trust that Eddie will catch him as he falls. 

“You could’ve just said,” Buck mutters against Eddie’s lips, his hands roaming over the forearms revealed by the style of his button-up shirt. “I thought I was going crazy.” He wants to be annoyed that Eddie’s known all this time and waited for Buck to make the first move, but he can’t quite work up to it. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, he needed the chance to wrap his head around this new truth about himself, and if Eddie had made a move before he was ready, Buck knows he wouldn’t have reacted well. 

“I’m pretty sure your sanity has been in question for way longer than I’ve been in LA,” Eddie shoots back with another teasing smirk. At some point, his hands slid from Buck’s shoulders to the planes of his back, and Buck’s not ashamed to admit that he pushes back into the touch, arching his spine like a cat seeking attention. He rolls his eyes at the joke and presses his face into Eddie’s neck, taking a long, slow breath to steady himself. The last two days -- hell, the last several weeks -- have been a riot of emotion that he’s still trying to sort, and as happy as he is in this moment, Buck knows that there’s still a lot for he and Eddie to talk about and work through. And Buck’s life is still a shambles, no matter how unexpectedly good his personal life has become. 

“You’re thinking too much,” Eddie tells him, his arms snug around Buck’s waist, holding him comfortably against his chest. “The world is complicated, Buck, but you and me? That doesn’t have to be. We can figure it out as we go.” A steady hand smooths over Buck’s spine, and he relaxes incrementally. It sounds too good to be true, but Buck has no intention of giving this up now that he’s got it. And Eddie’s gone to great lengths to make sure Buck knows that he can be trusted when he says something, today -- it wouldn’t make any sense to stop now. 

Buck lifts his head and smiles at Eddie with an echo of his old, rakish grin. “You’re going to have to do better than one kiss if you want me to stop thinking,” he says daringly, throwing caution to the wind and jumping headfirst into the unknown. Overthinking and panicking isn’t who Buck is, and he’s not going to let recent events change him. He’s stronger than circumstances, and Evan Buckley is more than a job title or a patient ID bracelet. 

He’s a fighter, and this time, all he wants to fight for is happiness for him, Eddie, and Christopher.

“Hmm, that sounds like a challenge,” Eddie observes, head cocked to one side in a faux-thoughtful expression. “I guess I don’t have much choice but to try harder then, do I?” 

Buck lets his satisfaction show on his face as he meets Eddie in another kiss. As in everything, practice makes perfect; this time, his knees get weak embarrassingly quickly, and he finds himself with his arms tossed around Eddie’s neck to keep his balance. He’s still smiling as they trade kisses back and forth, unable to quell the overwhelming contentment swelling in his chest. Eddie’s flushed and breathing hard, too, though, so Buck doesn’t waste a moment on embarrassment. They both want this; there’s no reason to start overthinking now. 

“Da-aad!” The whine from behind them stops the kiss in its tracks as both men take a hurried step back and spin to face the doorway. Christopher is leaning heavily on his crutches just past the arch, a blanket draped over his shoulders and hair mussed from sleep, and staring at them crankily. “Buck’s s’posed to be taking a nap with me. You can kiss him when we wake up.”

Eddie and Buck glance at each other, and the bubble of tension - romantic and otherwise - surrounding them bursts with a synchronous peal of laughter. Christopher gives them an unimpressed look, and Eddie recovers first, stifling another chuckle to tell him, “Sorry, buddy. But everyone’s awake now, right? So maybe we can watch a movie or something, and we can both spend some time with Buck before we have to go home.” He shoots a sidelong glance Buck’s way, like he needs permission or something stupid to talk about them with his son, or to stay longer. Like Buck is going to complain about getting more time with them. 

“What you think, Chris? Should we let your dad watch the rest of Hotel Transylvania with us?” Buck asks, and reaches out to grab Eddie’s hand -- just in case he’d gotten some ridiculous idea that this thing between them was going to be a secret. 

Christopher isn’t the kind of kid who’s grumpy for long, even right after a nap, so he beams at them and nods excitedly. “We have to start over, though,” he says seriously. “Daddy hasn’t seen the beginning, and he might get confused.” 

Buck nods his agreement, and Eddie just laughs. He tosses his free hand over Chris’s shoulders, and the three of them start toward the living room together, as a unit. As they settle together on the couch with tangled limbs and shared quips and laughter, Buck takes a second to breathe in the reality of this moment. He’s truly, incandescently happy, and he wants to take the memory and hold onto it forever -- through whatever job-related heartbreak and medical emergency comes next.

Because now, Buck’s got Eddie, and he’s got Christopher, and that’s more than enough to make him want to keep fighting. 

[huntertales]

Part Four: Two Down, One More To Go. (Taxi Driver S08E19)

Episode Summary: Sam, Dean and the reader respond to a call from a terrified Kevin who claims to hear Crowley’s voice in his head. Also with the good news that he’s discovered the second trial from the tablet—rescue an innocent soul from hell. The reader has to team up with a reaper named Ajay to complete the task, meanwhile the boys get a visit from the angel Naomi. But when things go awry, Dean must find Benny and ask him for a huge favor. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Gif Credit: thejabberwock Word Count: 4,066.

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For a second you thought Benny's shortcut out of Purgatory didn't work when you found yourself in the middle of the woods again, darkness engulfing your vision as you steadied yourself on the foreign ground. You couldn't quite see much of where you were going. The ache in your legs from all the walking you had been doing made it feel like it was impossible for you to last much longer, but you forced yourself to push through the pain. There was something different about this place from Purgatory. The air smelled fresher than before, there was the sounds of insects and nocturnal wildlife were going on about their evening. As you continued walking up a small hill that took the breath out of your lungs, the thought if the boys had made it here on time crossed your mind. You didn't even know how long you were gone. All you knew was that you wanted to get this trial done once and for all. 

You hiked through a few more feet of leaves and trees to help steady yourself upwards until you saw a small opening through some branches. You stopped for a moment to catch your breath and look ahead in front of you. You squint your eyes slightly when you saw two figures ahead of you. Your grip around the demon knife tightened when you thought it might have been the very same person who nearly got you stuck in Purgatory in the first place. However you felt it loosen at the sight of two faces. You weren't sure who was more relieved to see you, all you knew for sure that you were over the moon to see the boys. 

Dean appeared to be filled to the brim with anxiety, and seeing your face was the only thing he wanted most of all. Sam's head was running wild with all the things that could have gone wrong after he sent Benny off to get you. But when he saw you standing there with a smirk across your lips at how worried they looked, he felt himself breathing a little easier at seeing you back in one piece. “Miss me, boys?”

Dean wasted no time in pulling you into his embrace, wrapping his arms around your body and pressed your body against his close as possible. He wanted to make sure that you were very much real and okay. You buried your face into his chest and shut your eyes, allowing yourself for the first time in almost two days to finally relax. You felt safe in Dean's arms, the only place that felt like home wherever you went. Dean squeezed you a little harder and rocked you slightly back and forth, relieving himself of the panic running through his mind since you left. 

All though he never wanted you to be putting yourself through this kind of danger in the first place, the both of you had a new sense of respect for each other. More than ever before. Dean survived a year in Purgatory, you barely managed to stay alive for two days. He never thought you were going to be able to carry yourself through just one trial. Here you were after going to Purgatory and Hell, not a single scratch on your body running straight to the finish line and into his arms. 

Dean had to squeeze you one more time before he let you go to breathe. While you were allowed to inhale a few deep breaths of the crisp night air, Sam wasted no time in pulling you into his embrace. The difference between the boys hugs was that Sam sometimes forgot his own strength. You wrapped your arms around his waist as you enjoyed the feeling of him close to you, both of you enjoying the moment. Sam accidentally forgot that you weren't his size and needed to breathe for a while, causing you to let out a warning before he quickly pulled away, muttering a sorry for the accidental discomfort he caused you. You smiled at his behavior and shook your head, knowing it was a lot better than the things you just went through. 

“Purgatory, right? A real garden spot, ain’t it?” Dean asked you. Both of you knew the horrors of that place was nothing to joke about, but being out of there made you quietly laugh at how he described it. While it was nice that you were back in one piece, you didn't go there to see the sights. "Did you get him out?"

You opened your mouth to answer his question, but you hesitated for a few seconds at the news you had to break to the older Winchester. “Only Bobby.” 

“What?” You felt your heart sink at how all of this unfolded, wishing that it ended more differently with a positive twist. The both of you hoped that a certain vampire could have gotten a better life on the outside, but you didn’t always get what you wanted. "I mean, that's fantastic about Bobby." 

“Dean, look—Benny, uh...he got us out. But a bunch of vampires showed up out of nowhere, and he used himself as bait. I got the feeling that even if it didn’t happen, he didn’t want to come back, you know?” You explained to him about the details that went down. You didn’t want for this to happen, you wished that he was back here and you could have given him a chance to make it up to him. Dean tried not to hide the disappointment at the news. “I’m sorry, Dean.” 

Dean nodded his head slowly, understanding why Benny would do such a thing. The vampire's talk about not fitting in made a lot more sense. He didn't like Purgatory, but home wasn't what he thought it was. "You're probably right." 

"So, uh...Bobby," Sam found himself feeling slightly disappointed at hearing how Benny wanted to go back to that place so badly. There was a moment in time where he would have gladly sent the vampire back down there himself, because he judged him too quickly. However, maybe there was a point down the line when all of this hell business was taken care of he could return the favor. Sam smiled slightly at the mention of someone he hadn't seen in a while, for you it was even longer. He wanted to know how the reunion between the both of you went. "How'd he hold up down there?"

“He’s good. All things considered. He sure as hell gave me an earful about seeing me and what I was doing in hell. And then some. But...it felt so damn good to see him one last time.” You said. You felt yourself chuckling slightly at Bobby’s personality that never changed. Not even after all this time and some time in Hell “Oh. And he’s still ornery as hell, of course.”

“As he should be.” Dean said. “Let’s put that old man where he belongs.” 

You couldn't agree more with that plan, having two people hitching a ride in your skin was more than you could handle. You pulled up the sleeve of your jacket and began speaking the words that Kevin told you to do in order for this trial to be complete. As you did so, you dragged the knife across your skin to cut it open and let Bobby's soul free from your body. You stepped back slightly and watched as his soul began to descend to the nighttime sky, his final destination of Heaven above where he would hopefully get the proper rest where he deserved. 

You watched as his soul made it to the top of the trees and just there, you furrowed your brow slightly at the hitch in your plan that was stopping Bobby from going upstairs. You hadn’t done anything like this before, but you had a feeling this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. All you knew for sure that was something was going wrong from what happened next. Bobby's soul was turning into a dark cloudy sky, making you wonder for a second if you had done something to botch the trial. Maybe you pronounced a word wrong, maybe Benny's help of escaping Purgatory was what messed this up. You didn't take into consideration there was an outside force trying to put a stop to your plans.

“What the hell?” You muttered under your breath. 

“Hello, boys. Kitten.” You felt your grip around the demon knife tighten at the sound of a familiar voice, along with the stupid nickname. You slowly looked away from Bobby's soul and the demon holding it in his clutches. There Crowley stood in all of his glory. He might not have been able to botch your escape from Purgatory after wrongfully smuggling yourself in there, but there was no way he was letting his favorite soul escape so easily. "Bobby Singer—I'd know you anywhere." 

“Let him go, Crowley.” Dean ordered at the demon. “He doesn’t belong in Hell.” 

“He does if I say he does. He’s inflicted untold damage on my kind.” Crowley said. “From where I sit, actually, hell’s too good for him.” 

You suddenly found yourself overwhelmed with a new burst of energy at the things Crowley was saying which would have destroyed all the hard work you put into completing this trial. You put one foot in front of the other, getting ready to charge at him and ending the demon’s pathetic life once and for all. Before you could plunge the knife into his chest like you wanted for the past handful of years, you felt yourself being thrown backwards into the air and falling on your back, a rough landing to the ground with only dead leaves to cushion the blow. Crowley thought it would be funny to throw you around like a rag doll. You weren’t laughing at the matter. 

You had to admit the fall took the breath out of your lungs and caused you to lay there for a few seconds, trying not to panic at how bad this must be for the baby. You were pretty sure being thrown around and enduring psychical endurance like this was frowned upon for women in your condition. But you pushed through the discomfort and got up to a sitting position, blinking a few times to try and make Crowley stop spinning in circles around you. For a moment the demon thought he had won this fight fair and square, little did he take into consideration there was another team player who had been watching on the sidelines, waiting for the right moment to step in when needed to do so. Sort of like when the king of hell didn’t want to play fair. 

Crowley's smug look quickly fell on his face when he saw Bobby's soul was being taken out of his control, by someone that could play on his level. He looked to see it was an angel poking her nose in business where it didn't belong. "Oh, come on!" 

"Let me see if I've interpreted the situated correctly." Naomi, the angel that the boys had known from their first encounter with her, decided to lend a helping hand when you needed it the most. "Y/N Y/L/N and the Winchesters have freed an innocent from Hell, to which you are wrongfully trying to return it."

“Siding with them, Naomi? You don’t know those three.” Crowley warned the angel about who she was putting her trust into. “Before they’re done, we’ll both be locked away.” 

“I’m just hoping they lock you away, dear.” Naomi said. “The rest I’ll figure out.” 

“Bureaucrat.” Crowley hissed at the angel. “You’re fighting outside your weight class.” 

It seemed Crowley had hit a nerve inside Naomi at the insult she took personal. She lifted her hand and got ready to smite the demon once and for all, but it seemed Crowley understood that he was better to run off before he signed himself to hell with no way out. The angel smiled to herself at how easy and skittish demons could be when faced against a challenge. She wasted not a second longer freeing Bobby from the demon's clutches and the boys from their hold against the trees they had been pinned against, letting them drop to the ground. You grabbed Dean's hand that helped you up to your two feet as you watched Bobby's soul descend onto heaven, where he belonged to rest for however long it might be. You looked over at the angel you had never met before, and awfully friendly from most of her siblings you met in the past.

“I told you you could trust me.” Naomi said.

You furrowed your brow slightly at her parting words before she vanished from sight. All of what just went down made you wonder what went down with the boys while you were gone. You turned your head to give them a confused look. “What the hell was that all about?”

“We’ll tell you later.” Dean said. “Let’s just get this trial done.” 

You couldn't have agreed more with the man's suggestion. You wasted no time in patting around your pockets for the piece of paper for the last spell you needed to say in order for this trial to be completed. All you remembered from completing the first trial was how much of an impact it took on your body the days following afterwards. The psychical pain that followed after saying the words of enocian vanished from your mind, but they quickly came back to remind you. When the last word fell from your lips, you were finally done with the trial. You were about to let out a sigh of relief, only the next thing that came out of your mouth was a noise from the sudden pain you felt in your right arm. 

You felt your left hand grip around your other arm at the excruciating amount of pain you remembered happening before after you completed the first trial. You tried your hardest to fight through the sensation as you stumbled forward a few steps, only for your knees to give out. You bit your bottom lip at the pain, like it was turning into a burning sensation you never felt before. Your right arm was glowing...it was so strange, and yet so painful. You stared at it for a few seconds, not realizing the boys were hovering over you and shouting your name in fear at what they saw unfolding. As the pain and light began to subside, you finally were able to breathe properly for the first time since you started this journey.

“It’s okay! It’s okay! I’m fine.” You tried to reassure the boys. You looked up to their worried faces and gave them a smile, wanting them to know that you were really okay. “I’m good. We’re good.” 

+ + +

You sat in the backseat of the Impala for the first time in almost two excruciating long days. After all the things you had been through, from walking around Purgatory and sneaking yourself into Hell, it came as no surprise you were in need of a long slumber. But you wanted to check up on Kevin to make sure he was okay. You stared out the window and watched as the nighttime scenery passed you by. Dean took his gaze off the road every once in a while to check up on you while Sam waited to hear any sounds of coughing. You were content for the moment. Not a single peep came out from you. Still, Dean couldn't help himself but worry at how this was going to affect your body. It wouldn’t have been the first time you lied about your health.

“You okay?” Dean couldn’t help himself but ask once again to you. 

You looked away from the window and straight ahead, nodding your head. “I’ll live.” 

"I buried Benny, by the way. But I didn't burn his bones. After he said he'd get try and get you out of there, it didn't seem right." Dean waited a few seconds before admitting something about the vampire that saved your life. "I know Sammy has no use for him and you don't want him in our lives anymore, but—"

"No, no, no. You know what? I get it. I do. He's a little different from what I thought." Sam admitted about his change of heart for the vampire after the selfless act he did for them. "So, go ahead and leave the door open if you want. I'm sure Y/N agrees with me. Right?"

"Totally. Hell, once this is all over I'll throw him a welcome back party." You said. You shifted around in your seat and leaned forward slightly to rub your lower back from the ache that must've appeared from the sitting you weren't used to. It must be from the fall you took earlier tonight. "First thing's first. Let's go check in with Prophet Boy and see where he stashed that tablet." 

+ + +

The boys had left Kevin in a bit of a fragile state of mind after trying to reassure him once again that he was okay. You knocked on the door to the boat house, waiting a few moments for the kid to get himself out of his closet and answer the door. A minute or so passed with nothing. Not even a single noise came from the other side of the door. You let out a sigh of annoyance, deciding to go inside yourself to see what the big deal was about. You announce your arrival and stepped inside first, the boys following right after into a dark boat which wasn’t like Kevin.

You pulled out your flashlight to help guide the way as you made your way into the place, peering over every corner to see if you might be able to find Kevin hiding somewhere and away from Crowley. You called out the kid’s name a few times as you made your way into the open space where Kevin worked frequently. The flashlight scanned the entire place, but there was no trace of the prophet. Hell, there wasn’t even a trace of human life. You felt your breathing slowly turn heavier when Dean made his way around, finding the lights to turn them on. Only to show what you already had expected—the kid ran for the hills. 

“He’s gone.” Sam said, coming back from his sweep around the boat to see there was no trace of anything. Not even a scrap of clothing. Kevin grabbed all of his stuff and booked it. “He took our stuff, his notes…” 

“I saw this coming. Finally freaked.” Dean muttered. “Little geek made a run for it.” 

“Yeah, but where?” The younger Winchester asked. 

You felt your grip around the flashlight tighten, to the point where you felt your fingers might break from what was going on. The little prophet better had hid himself somewhere deep and underground. Because when you got your hands on him you were going to rip apart. There was nothing Crowley could do that would even touch the anger you were feeling right now. All he had to do was stick around for a little while longer. You had one more trial to do until this was all over. Nothing was going to stand in your way from getting what you wanted. Not the king of hell. Not even a scared little prophet. You were going to close the gates of hell. Once and for all.

+ + +

You were beyond pissed for how tonight ended up with a prophet on the loose for the second time. Right when you had a victory, life didn't waste a second knocking you down a peg to humble you and make the fight just a little bit harder. You wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep away the anger before you broke something. Tomorrow morning you were going to figure out a way to track down the kid and bring him back. But in order for your mind to work properly, you needed a decent night's sleep. And a shower to wash away the stench that came with running around Purgatory and smuggling yourself into Hell.

You weren’t sure how long you were in the shower, but you were taking advantage of the endless hot water and amazing pressure that felt like sweet relief on your lower back that was still hurting. After scrubbing every inch of your body and smelling like a rose, you got yourself out of the shower and grabbed your robe Dean had given to you shortly after moving into the bunker. Since you refused to wear a dead man’s one. You made your way over to the sinks and wiped away the fog off the mirror, taking a moment to inspect your reflection.Truth be told, you were tired. These trials weren’t a walk in the park. It showed on your face from the slight dark circles and how sluggish you were feeling. 

You polished off dinner and then some when you got into the bunker, knowing you and the baby were beyond famished. You felt the ache in your back starting to grow worse. While you were debating on taking something for it, you slowly found your attention drifting away from the ache. And to the familiar tickle in the back of your throat. You let out a few short coughs before composing yourself, nothing out of the ordinary to scare you. The thought lasted for a second before you were hit with a coughing fit that look the breath out of your lungs. You leaned over the sink and coughed up something, enough for the liquid to hit the sink. Grimacing, you spit it out, making you taste it again...the blood. 

You felt your breathing growing heavier at the familiar sight of the crimson color. Instead of clinging to your hand, this time you saw it clear as day when it stained the porcelain white sink. You couldn’t deny these trials were doing something to your body. Cas said they were hurting you in ways that he couldn’t heal. But you knew your body better than anyone. You slowly reached out a finger to touch a droplet of blood, getting just enough on the tip. You put out your tongue and tasted the droplet for yourself, wondering why it was different this time. 

Your blood wasn’t...well, like everyone else’s. It ran with a little bit of different demons that ruined your life, who’s shared goal was for you to turn into one of them.m. You had Azazel’s, Lilith’s, possibly Ruby’s and so many other demons Lucifer slaughtered for you to turn you into what he always wanted. You were poisoned from the inside out. Sam had his own share of demon blood that made him crazy. But all of it vanished when he freed Lucifer from the cage. And he might have gotten rid of yours after a while. You couldn’t be quite sure. You would remember the taste of demon blood. It was different from than human’s. And this was it.

The blood you coughed up wasn’t rich like iron, it didn’t feel like you were sucking on pennies while you still had some lingering in your mouth. This stuff made you think back to the horrors of it sliding down your throat against your will. Trying to vomit it back up after Lilith left. Being tied down to a chair and having Lucifer hold onto your jaw, forcing you to drink down the blood of a demon he drained just for you. It was demon blood. You were coughing up the blood that was forced into you. Like your body was rejecting all the demon left in your body.

You were doing the trials to close the gates of Hell, getting rid of every aspect of it. And for you it made sense that you were coughing up the lingering ties to that place. You coughed a few more times before your lips stretched into a smile. Almost liked you were relieved. It made sense. The damage to your inside. The blood. The trials weren’t hurting you, they were healing you. God was trying to turn you into what you always wanted. A human being.

Rewrite Taglist:

@deansquirreljerkwinchester // @everything-i-tried-was-taken // @starswirlblitz // @albot-e // @supernaturalismydrug // @we-are-band-sexuals // @angiewinchestercas // @kaylinfayezink  // @owhatshername1 // @kgbrenner  // @cleo-is-my-doggy // @eeyore1988 // @dakota-dream // @lilylovelyxo // @timetravelingginger // @holahellohialoha //   @quicksilver123456 // @natashacamillas //@lexi-anastasia //@kaylinfayezink //  @deanwnchstr @albot-eh // @rashinyx2002 // @shellybeans //  @icantfindacreativeurl //  @becs-bunker // @oreosatmidnight // @bands-and-shietz // @fabulousmustachesonapolarbear // @clarewinchester // @releasethekracko // @alex-zeppelin // @mega-mrs-dean-winchester // @theskytraveler // @notmoose94 //@assassinofmasyaf // @caswinchester2000 // @savannah-m-99 // @sunlight-dean // @strayrosesbloom // @that-slytherin-over-there // @1000roughdrafts// @its-medeanwinchester // @simplyhemmings

Message me if you would like to be added!

[spn-ficfanatic]

Ghost Sickness

My Masterlist

@imaginationisgrowth: “I had an idea the other day when I was rewatching the episode yellow fever. I thought it would be interesting to see the reader get ghost sickness  while they are on a case. This could be angst and fluff and you could do deanxreader , samxreader, or no pairing and just friends.

A/N: So I’ve reworked Yellow Fever. I’ve changed a few facts from the episode around to fit the story I’m telling. I’ve also tried not to stick to the episode dialogue too much to give it a fresher feeling. So don’t go in expecting the episode exactly how you know it word for word. Hopefully you’ll love it just as much though! Much love to @imaginationisgrowth who has been soooo patient and supportive while waiting over a month for me to finish this!

Words: 7900-ish Warnings: Mention of bullying and suicide, mild swearing Genre: Angst with a hint of humour Characters: Dean, Sam, Reader, Bobby. All platonic but hopefully you’ll enjoy the closeness of the characters, they will each have their own little moments with the Reader.

Your legs pounded the pavement as you ran down the path, jaws snapping at your ankles as you did. You were sweating and tears were rolling down your face, you were running out of breath, but you couldn’t stop. You knew if you did it would all be over and you refused to go out this way.

Mauled to death by a poodle? Can you fricking imagine how much crap Crowley would give you once you got to hell?

43 HOURS EARLIER

”How did it go?” you asked the guys as they stepped back into the Impala. They’d gone ahead and spoken with the coroner while you continued research from the back seat, without any success. Sam huffed out a laugh.

“Well, I held the guys heart and Dean got squirted with dead-man juice,” he reported with a grin, and you turned to see Dean still furiously wiping his face. You choked back a laugh before feigning concern.

“Oh poor Deany, are you ok?” you asked, throwing in a hint of condescension. He threw you a bitch face to rival Sam’s and you nearly burst out into laughter.

“Shaddap,” he told you simply, putting the car into gear and driving off.

“So get this,” Sam started, and you leaned forward expectantly. “Guy drops dead of a heart attack right, but nothing suggests he was even sick. Perfectly healthy heart. And given he’s just the latest of a line of them I’m steering toward something supernatural.”

You nodded in agreement, leaning back once you were sure Sam was finished.

“So. Sheriff’s office?” you asked, putting your shoes back on.

“Nuh uh, I’m going back to the room for a shower,” Dean commented, pulling a face. “A really really REALLY long shower. With bleach.”

“Guess it’s just you and me Y/N,” Sam told you with a smile, which you returned happily.

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

“Nice socks,” Sam whispered to you with a smirk as you glanced at your feet, currently sporting your Frozen socks. Olaf stared back at you with a stupid grin and you smiled.

“Thanks, I’ll get you a pair,” you replied as you sat your purse on the floor next to you. In your defence you hadn’t exactly expected the sheriff to have a “no shoe” policy in his office, otherwise you absolutely would have worn stockings, but damn if these weren’t a heck of a lot warmer!

The sheriff sat at his desk in front of you, lathering his hands in the alcohol gel sitting by his keyboard. You raised a curious eyebrow but didn’t say anything; at first glance you wouldn’t pick him for a germaphobe but you figured everyone had their thing.

“Okay. So, what can I do for uncle Sam?” he asked you both, his hands making a slapping slick noise as he rubbed them together. You tried to hide a grimace.

“Well, we're looking into the death of Frank O'Brien. We understand some of your men found his body,” Sam told him in his professional FBI voice. The sheriff nodded with a frown.

“They did. Me and Frank, we were friends. Hell, we were Gamecocks.”

A snicker escaped your lips before you could stop it, and the sheriff gave you a stern look making your cheeks blush profusely.

“That's our softball team's name. They're majestic animals. I knew Frank since high school. To be honest, I just this morning got up the strength to go see him. Frank was… He was a good man.”

“Yeah. Big heart I hear,” you told him with a wry grin, recalling Sam’s recount of being handed it at the morgue. You looked at Sam expectantly but he gave you a stern look that told you to shut up. Gawd he was no fun sometimes!

“Before he died, did you notice Frank acting strange? Maybe scared of something?” Sam pushed on.

“Oh hell, yeah. Real jumpy.”

That peaked your interest, and you leaned forward. “You know what scared him?”

“No. Wouldn't answer his phone. Finally, I sent some of my boys over to check on him, and well, you know the rest.”

As the Sheriff started to pour the alcohol gel on his hands again you and Sam shared a confused look. ‘What the hell?’ you mouthed to him, and he shrugged in reply.

“So, why the Feds give a crap? You don't really think there's a case here?” the Sheriff interrupted your exchange, continuing to rub his hands together loudly much to your annoyance.

“No, no. It's probably nothing. Just a heart attack,” Sam told him in a reassuring voice. You nodded in agreement with a smile.

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

“No way that was a heart attack,” Sam commented once you were out of earshot, walking alongside each other on the way back to the impala.

“Definitely no way. Three victims, all with those same red scratches. All went from jittery to terrified to dead within 48 hours.”

“Something scared them to death?”

“All right, so what can do that?” you asked.

“What can't? Ghosts, vampires, chupacabra? It could be a hundred things.”

You sighed in frustration. “Yeah. So, we make a list and start crossing things off.”

“Alright, who's the last person to see Frank O'Brien alive?”

You pulled your notepad out of your pocket and checked your scribbles from earlier in the day.

“Uh, his neighbour, Mark Hutchins.”

“Alright, guess we’ll pay a visit to Mark next,” Sam decided, stopping at the side of the road and preparing to cross. You looked ahead and saw a group of teens hanging out next to the Impala and were suddenly overcome with a concern you couldn’t rightly explain.

“Hang on, hang on,” you muttered, putting your hand out in front of Sam just as he was about to step onto the road. He looked around to see what had made you stop.

“What?”

You turned to face him, your back to the men on the off chance they could lip read. What? It could happen!

“I don't like the looks of those teenagers down there.”

Sam looked around and spotted the group chatting near the Impala, and before he could ask you what the problem was you were already pulling him in the other direction.

“Let's walk this way. Mark’s place is within walking distance anyway.”

You crossed the road, oblivious to the perplexed stare Sam was giving you behind your back. Looking back at the teens, he shook his head in confusion and followed you.

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

“You never mentioned you were scared of snakes Y/N…”

“GAH!” you cried with a shiver, remembering the feel of Mark’s python slithering down your leg. Sam gave you a small smirk and started to loosen his tie as you both walked toward the Impala once again.

“OK, so we got a couple of things from the guy at least. He’s a widow and a dick.”

“He was a bully in high school Sam, doesn’t still make him a dick,” you countered. You’d once confided in Sam that you’d been less than friendly yourself during your school years so for him to say that was a little hurtful, but you tried not to let it get to you. “Mark said he’d gotten better since then, cut him some slack.”

“Fair enough, I guess,” Sam replied quietly, looking at you curiously. “Hey, you OK? You seem a bit...”

“A bit what Sam?” you challenged him, knowing he’d not be stupid enough to continue that sentence. As you suspected, he decided to shut up. Wise man.

“Nothing. Let’s get to the county clerk’s office and I’ll dig up whatever I can on his wife.”

As you rounded the corner you looked around for the teens, and let out the breath you hadn’t realised you were holding when you saw they had moved on.

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

You sat in the passenger seat of the Impala, absentmindedly scratching your arm while you waited for Sam to get back . You’d not admitted it to him but you’d been feeling kind of weird for the last couple of hours. Sam was right, you’d never mentioned a fear of snakes. Because you didn’t have one. Not normally anyway. So what was it about Mark’s that had you all jittery? While you were pondering Sam returned, and the sudden jolt of the vehicle as he opened the door had you jumping.

“Hey. Any luck?” you asked, casually trying to rest your elbow on the window but missing and just kind of let your arm fall awkwardly. Sam raised an eyebrow at you but didn’t mention it.

“I'm not sure I'd call it luck. Frank's wife, Jessie, was a manic-depressive. She went off her meds back in '88 and vanished. They found her two weeks later, three towns over. Strung up in her motel room, suicide.”

“Yikes. Any chance Frank helped her along to the other side?” you asked, hopeful that this was a lead.

“No, Frank was working the swing shift when she disappeared. Airtight alibi,” he replied with a sigh, throwing the files on your lap. He turned the ignition while you carefully sat them down by your feet instead. Didn’t want to risk a paper cut.

“I checked in with Dean, he searched Frank’s place top to bottom but there was nothing. No EMF, no hex bags, no sulfur,” you told Sam with a frown, keeping a watchful eye on the speedometer. “So probably no ghosts, no witches, or demons.”

Sam grunted in annoyance. “3 down and 97 to go.”

“Yeah,” you replied quietly as your eyes stayed glued to the speed. “Sam, you’re going 25.”

He looked at you puzzled before checking the speed himself.

“And?” he asked, confused.

“The speed limit is 20.”

Sam let out an amused laugh, expecting you were joking. “Yer sure, speeds are only suggestions after all,” he told you, quoting yourself from only a month prior when it was your turn to drive. 

You pursed your lips and sat back in your seat, embarrassed to say anything more. As he turned on the indicator though you let out a yelp. Sam looked at you startled, sitting in the middle of the road while he waited for the traffic to pass.

“Dude, what are you doing?” you yelped.

“That’s our hotel!”

“Making a left-hand turn into oncoming traffic? Are you suicidal?!” you practically shouted before raising a hand to your mouth shocked. Sam stared at you, genuinely concerned with your behaviour now.

“Did I just say that? That was kind of weird,” you muttered with a nervous giggle.

Just then the EMF in Sam’s pocket started whining, and as he quickly turned into the hotel you pulled your legs up over your eyes and gave a small shriek of fear. Throwing the car into park, Sam reached into his pocket and extracted the EMF reader. Pointing it toward you it shrieked loudly, but as he pulled it away it died down. One more try and your heart started racing as it shrieked again when pointed in your direction.

“Am I haunted?” you blurted out, terrified. “Am I haunted?!”

“Ummmm…” Sam trailed off.

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

“Cuz the players gonna play play play play play,” you sang, pretending to hold a mic to your mouth as you sang along to Taylor Swift. Dean hated that you liked this song but you’d caught him tapping his foot to the beat one day so you knew he was just playing the tough-guy routine. Now though you were just trying to get your mind away from the horrors around you. That tree that’s leaning a little too close to the car (what if it falls down in this wind?), the hotel sign flickering away (surely that’s a occupational health and safety concern?), and that german shepherd tied to a pole near the hotel entrance (RABIES!!).

As a hand tapped loudly on top of the car you yelped, then sighed in relief when you sat up and saw Dean’s torso at the window. You leaned over and turned the volume down, and carefully climbed out to stand with him, ignoring the hand he held out to assist you.

“Get that germy hand away from me, I know where it’s been,” you told him glumly. He looked at his hand with offense, before shrugging and nodding his head in agreement.

“So, Sam mentioned you’re having a freak out or something?” Dean asked casually, leaning against the car and trying not to look concerned. He knew how much you hated when they worried about you and didn’t want to upset you further.

“I think it’s justified,” you scoffed, holding out your arm with a look of alarm. “Look at this!”

Dean took your arm in his hands only to see you had scratched yourself raw, and pulled it closer to inspect it further.

“Geez Y/N, what are you doing?” he cried in concern.

“I’m not doing it I swear!”

You sighed and leaned against the Impala, pulling your arm away. Dean turned to greet Sam as he approached the car, and Sam handed you a box of your favourite donuts by way of a greeting. He’d been hoping to cheer you up some and grabbed them while he’d been talking on the phone, but frowned as he watched you sniff them and with a disapproving look throw them in the backseat.

“Um, ok, well, I just spoke with Bobby and you’re not gonna like it.” Sam took a deep breath before steeling himself for your reaction once he’d told you. “It’s ghost sickness.”

“Oh god no,” you replied, casting your eyes down as you let that sink in. “Oh man, that’s… I have no idea what that is actually.”

“Oh. Well ok, some cultures believe that certain spirits can infect the living with a disease, which is why they stopped displaying bodies in houses and started taking them off to funeral homes.”

“Lovely. Get to the good stuff,” you grimaced.

“Symptoms are you get anxious, then scared, then really scared, then your heart gives out. Sound familiar?”

“Yeah, but Sam, we haven't seen a ghost in week,” Dean piped up.

“Well, I doubt she caught it from a ghost. Look, once a spirit infects that first person, Ghost Sickness can spread like any sickness through a cough, a handshake, whatever. It's like the flu. Now, Frank O'Brien was the first to die, which means he was probably the first infected. Patient zero.”

“Our very own outbreak monkey.”

“Right. Get this, Frank was in Maumee over the weekend. Softball tournament. Which is where he must have infected the other two victims.”

“Were they Gamecocks?” you asked.

“Cornjerkers.”

Dean looked at you both confused by that exchange, but Sam pressed on.

“So, a ghost infected Frank. He passed it onto the other guys and then Y/N got it from his corpse.”

“Wait wait wait, I wasn’t even there! That’s not fair!” you whined.

“Well, like any sickness some people are carriers and some have natural immunities. We probably carried it to the car with us; you likely caught it from us,” Sam told you, looking apologetic.

“So now what, I have 48 hours before I go insane and my heart stops?” you asked bluntly.

“More like 24.”

“Super.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, why me? Why not you guys? I mean, you were in direct contact with the victim. Hell, Dean got splattered with spleen juice!”

“Yeah, um, you see Bobby and I have a theory about that too. Turns out all three victims shared a certain, uh, personality type. Frank was a bully. The other two victims, one was a vice principal, the other was a bouncer.”

“Okay.”

“Basically, they were all dicks.”

“So why didn’t Dean get infected?” you grumbled.

“Hey! I’m a pleasure to be around,” Dean defended himself, crossing his arms. You smirked sarcastically at him before turning back to Sam.

“So you're saying I'm a dick?”

“No, no, no. It's not just that. All three victims used fear as a weapon, and now this disease is just returning the favor. I know you’re not the same girl you were in high school, but since that played a part in Frank catching it then it might playing a part in yours too.”

“I don't scare people,” you murmured, your eyes downcast.

“All we do is scare people,” Sam countered.

“Okay, well then, you guys are dicks too.”

“Apparently, we’re not.”

You sighed in annoyance, throwing your hands in the air in defeat and you stood up from your position against the car. “Whatever. How do we stop it?”

“We gank the ghost that started all this. We do that, the disease should clear up.”

“You thinking Frank's wife?” Dean asked.

“Who knows why she killed herself, you know? Hey, what are you doing waiting out here, anyway?” Sam asked, turning his attention back to you. You looked at him sheepishly before looking up at the Hotel.

“Our room's on the fourth floor.”

Sam and Dean watched you, and shook their heads in confusion.

“It's...it’s high,” you added, raising your hand to demonstrate.

They gave you a concerned look as they glanced at each other for a moment.

“I'll see if I can move us down to the first,” Sam told you, walking back to the office. Dean smiled sadly and patted you on the shoulder before turning his attention to the files in the car.

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

Sitting at the hotel table with a book in front of you, you could barely focus on the words and kept being distracted by the clock on the wall ticking away loudly. A tickle in your throat had you coughing for a moment, and as you let your head fall to read the page in front of you you were greeted by grizzly images of people coughing up their intestines. You coughed again and felt your heart rate increase as you felt the panic start to rise.

Sparing a quick glance to the clock, you abruptly stood up and proceeded to smash it on the floor. Several times. By the time you’d finished it was in several hundred pieces, and with a satisfied grunt you headed to the fridge for a Pepsi. Sitting on the couch you gave a sigh, running your hands over your face tiredly. You sat there for about 10 minutes, nursing your drink, before the guys put their key in the door and arrived back to the room.

“Hey Y/N, we’re back,” Sam called out, watching the key as he pulled it out of the lock and put it in his pocket. He looked up when he heard Dean’s feet crunch against something on the floor. Looking around he could see what appeared to be the clock on the floor, strewn into pieces.

“Everything all right?” Dean asked cautiously.

“Oh, yeah. Just peachy. Find anything?” you snapped with a frown, taking a sip of your drink. Sam raised an eyebrow but let it go.

“Yeah, Jessie O'Brien's body was cremated, so I'm pretty sure she is not our ghost.” You watched him as he spoke, not even noticing that you were scratching your arm again.

“Hey, quit picking at that,” Dean scolded you, swatting your hand away and sitting next to you. “How you feeling?”

“Awesome. It's nice to have my head on the chopping block again. I almost forgot what that feels like,” you told them glumly, taking another sip. In the time since your last brush with death, Sam and Dean had each died once. Only makes sense that it was your turn again. “It's freaking delightful.”

“We'll keep looking,” Sam added, sitting at the table and putting his laptop down to start some more research.

That tickle came back, and you took a sip to try and get rid of it. When it didn’t you couldn’t help but let out a cough. Dean and Sam each went about their business, Dean flicking through the channels on the TV in front of him. He raised his head though when you leaned forward, unable to stop the coughing.

“You okay?” he asked you, slapping his palm against your back. When you didn’t answer, COULDN’T answer, he started to worry. “Hey, Y/N!” he shouted as it got worse, tears starting to stream down your face. “Sammy, she can’t breath!”

Sam stood up to approach you, panic in his eyes, but instead you passed him as you ran to the kitchen sink. The boys followed as you coughed into the basin, feeling a large square shape push through your esophagus and out your mouth. You cried out in relief as it did, resting your forehead against your hand which was resting on the sink. You felt a hand rub circles on your back and surmised it was Dean.

You watched as Sam reached in and pulled out the wood chip you had just expelled from your body, and raised your head to look at him confused as he looked it over. A look of wonderment spread over his face as he looked at you with renewed hope.

“We've been completely ignoring the biggest clue we have,” he said. “You!”

“What?” you cried, resting your head back onto your hand to sulk. “I don't wanna be a clue”

“The abrasions, this; the disease is trying to tell us something,” he continued excitedly, walking out to the lounge room. Dean followed him, leaving you to peel yourself up and go with.

“Tell us what, wood chips?” he asked his brother.

“Exactly.”

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

“I’m not going in there,” you exclaimed, looking up at the wood mill apprehensively.

“Cummon Y/N, live a little,” Dean told you with a grin. “You can’t hide away in the car or the hotel and let a little ghost sickness get you down.”

“Shaddup. Sam?” you asked, turning to his brother and giving your best puppy-dog expression. He grimaced in response, feeling guilty.

“Sorry Y/N, but if something’s going on inside related to all this, you being there might bring it out of the woodwork.” He paused. “No pun intended.”

You groaned, and headed to the boot. The guys watched with a mixture of worry and amusement as you pulled out a bottle of whiskey and poured it down your throat in one breath. When you came up for air you shook your head briskly, bouncing up and down to hype yourself up.

“Let's do this!” you shouted, walking with purpose toward the mill. The guys followed close behind and bumped into you when you slowed down unexpectedly.

“It’s a little spooky, isn't it?” you told them, coming to a complete stop. The brothers looked at each other from behind you, and in one motion linked their arms under yours and lifted you up so your feet dangled a few inches off the ground. You let out a squeal as they walked you toward the mill, and as you crossed the threshold they set you down.

“See? Nothing to be scared ok,” Sam told you, patting you on the back and handing you a gun.

“Oh, I'm not carrying that,” you told him, shaking your head. “It could go off. I'll man the flashlight.” You reached into his pocket and pulled it out, holding it in front of your face as you grinned at him.

“You do that,” he told you with a sigh as he and Dean lead the way into the mill. The EMF started going berserk and you all stopped to watch as Sam pulled it out. You all realised at once what it meant.

“EMF's not gonna work with me around, is it?”

“You don't say,” Dean commented wryly. “Come on.”

“Wait…” Sam said suddenly, causing you to jump. He reached down and plucked a wedding ring off the ground and carefully read the inscription inside. ‘To Frank. Love, Jessie.’ Frank O'Brien's ring.”

“What the hell was Frank doing here?” Dean wondered.

“No idea.”

Following Sam, with Dean watching your back from behind, you entered a room full of lockers. There was a loud rustling coming from inside one of them and as Sam reached out to open the door your eyes widened in horror. As a black shape sprung from the locker you screamed, spinning around to grab the nearest thing to you which happened to be Dean. You felt him arm wrap around you tightly, protectively, as you sobbed into his shirt.

“That was scary,” you told them, your voice muffled by his flannel. He ran his hand over your hair and pulled you over to sit on a chair. You sat, your face buried in your hands as you tried to calm down.

You felt his fingers on your wrist, checking your pulse, before he pulled away. “Hey, try and calm down Y/N, you'll be ok.”

“Dean,” Sam said quietly, inspecting a nearby desk. Dean gave you one last worried look before heading over to join him. You opted the listen and watch from your vantage point on the chair.

“Luther Garland,” he commented holding up an ID card. Dean shuffled some papers on the desk.

“Hey, this is uh...this is Frank's wife,” Dean commented, pointing to a drawing.

“The plot thickens,” you commented from your seat, and they turned to look at you and nod in agreement.

“Yeah, but into what?”

As Dean tried to lift the drawing from the desk it got stuck under a stapler and tore in half. Nearly immediately the machines around you whirred to life, and you tucked your knees up against your chest protectively. You all looked around, trying to figure out the cause, and your eyes landed on a figure standing in the corner of the room. You didn’t need to wait and find out who it was, and scrambled for dear life out of your chair and toward the Impala. You thought you heard Sam shout your name as you ran, and a gun shot rang out suggesting he'd shot the bastard with his salt rounds.

By the time the guys caught up with you, you were laying on the back seat of the impala, finishing off the whiskey you'd opened earlier. They watched you from outside the car, worried evident on their faces.

“Guess we got the right place,” Sam commented glumly.

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

You walked with Sam and Dean through the corridors of the nursing home, eyes darting around looking for any immediate danger. A man walking past bumped you on the shoulder, and you yelped before running to catch up with the brothers.

“This isn't gonna work. Come on, these badges are fake. What if we get busted? We could go to jail!” you told them in a panic, waving your fake ID in front of their faces.

“Y/N, shh! Calm down. Deep breath, okay?” Sam told you, placing his hand on your shoulder.

You did as he asked, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, in and out.

“There. You feel better?”

You opened your eyes and shook your head furiously, and Sam rolled his eyes. You brought your hand up and started scratching your arm nervously.

“Just come on. Don't scratch.”

You approached an older gentleman at a table in the recreation room, and let Dean take the lead.

“Mr. Garland. Hi uh, I'm Agent Tyler. This is Agent Perry and Agent Hamilton, FBI. We'd like to ask you a few questions about your brother Luther.”

“Let me see some I.D.” Mr Garland demanded, and your heart started racing. Your eyes widened and you stared at Dean panicked.

“Certainly,” Dean replied, handing his over while you and Sam followed suit.

“Those are real, obviously. I mean, who would pretend to be an FBI agent, huh? That's just nutty,” you told him with a strained smile. The older man looked at you strangely but after inspecting your IDs handed them back without concern.

“What do you want to know?” he asked, and you let out the breath you’d been holding.

‘Uh, well...according to this, your brother Luther died of physical trauma,” Sam recounted, sitting down next to him and opening the file he’d obtained from the police station earlier. Mr. Garland scoffed in response.

“You don't agree,” Dean clarified..

“No, I don't.”

“Well, then, what would you call it?”

“Don't matter what an old man thinks,” replied Mr Garland, looking despondent.

“Mr. Garland. We're just trying to get the truth on your brother. Please,” Sam begging, hoping to get something out of the man. You were all glad when he opened up.

“Everybody was scared of Luther. They called him a monster. He was too big, too mean-looking. Just too different. Didn't matter he was the kindest man I ever knew. Didn't matter he'd never hurt no one. A lot of people failed Luther. I was one of them. I was a widower with three young 'uns. And I told myself there was nothing I could do.”

“Mr. Garland, um...do you recognize this woman?” Dean asked, taking out the drawing of Jessie and placing it on the table.

“It's Jessie O'Brien,” the older man said sadly. “Her man, Frank, killed Luther.”

“How do you know that?”

“Everybody knows. They just don't talk about it,” he shrugged. “Jessie was a receptionist at the mill. She was always real nice to Luther, and he had a crush on her. But Frank didn't like it. And when Jessie went missing, Frank was sure that Luther had done something to her. Turns out the old gal killed herself, but Frank didn't know that. They found Luther with a chain wrapped around his neck. He was dragged up and down the stretch outside that plant till he was past dead.” You looked at the wounds on your arms and felt your eyes prickle with tears, realising at last what they were.

“And O'Brien was never arrested?” Sam pressed on.

“I screamed to every cop in town. They didn't want to look into Frank. He was a pillar of the community. My brother was just the town freak.”

“You must have hated Frank O'Brien,” you spoke for the first time, so quietly they nearly didn’t hear you.

“I did for a long time, but life's too short for hate darlin’. And Frank wasn't thinking straight. His wife had vanished, he was terrified. A damn shame he had to put Luther through the same, but...that's fear. It spreads and spreads.”

“Well, thank you for speaking with us Mr Garland. I believe we have everything we need,” finished Sam, holding out his hand and shaking it as Mr Garland reciprocated.

A few minutes later you were outside, walking to the Impala and considering the information you’d just received.

“Now we know what these are, road rash. And I'm guessing Luther swallowed some wood chips when he was being dragged down that road,” you told them glumly.

“Makes sense. You're experiencing his death in slow motion,” Sam agreed with a frown.

“Yeah well, not slow enough,” said Dean. “Say we burn some bones and get her healthy yer?”

“Dean, it won't be that easy.”

“No, no, it'll be that easy, why wouldn't it be that easy?”

“Luther was road-hauled,” Sam explained. “His body was ripped to pieces. He was probably scattered all over that road. There's no way we're gonna find all the remains. We'll just have to figure something else out.

“You know what? Screw this,” you piped up suddenly, stopping in your tracks. The brothers turned to look at you with confusion.

“Screw what Y/N?” Sam asked.

“This Sam… THIS! I mean come on guys, what the hell are we doing?!”

“We're hunting a ghost,” Dean replied, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

“A ghost, exactly! Who does that?”

“Us,” they replied in unison.

“Us? Right. And that, that is exactly why our lives suck. I mean, come on, we hunt monsters! What the hell?! I mean, normal people, they see a monster, and they run. But not us, no, no, no, we -- we search out things that want to kill us. Yeah? Huh? Or eat us! You know who does that? Crazy people! We...are insane! You know, and then there's the bad diner food and then the skeevy motel rooms and then the truck-stop waiter with the bizarre rash. I mean, who wants this life guys? Huh? Seriously? Do you actually like being stuck in a car together eight hours a day, every single day? I don't think so! I mean, I drive too fast. Dean’s music sucks, he insists on listening to the same five albums over and over and over again, a-and I sing along. I'm annoying, I know that. And you -- you're gassy! You eat half a burrito, and you get toxic! I mean, you know what?” You toss Sam the keys, and he barely catches them as he stares at you. “You can forget it.”

Dean watched you leave with serious concern. “Whoa, Y/N. Where are you going?”

“Stay away from me, okay? Cause I am done with it. I'm done with the monsters and -- and -- and the hellhounds and the ghost sickness and the damn apocalypse. I'm out. I'm done. Quit.”

As you started running you could hear them trying to follow, but you were always the fastest of the three and pretty soon their footsteps faded from the distance. Once you were sure they were too far away to catch you, you stopped to catch your breath and leaned against a dumpster for support. That was when you heard a low growl. Turning around slowly, the sight of the poodle in front of you filled you with terror.

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

When Sam entered the hotel room you were pacing the floor, wringing your hands together anxiously. He let out a loud sigh of relief and closed the door behind him.

“Christ, I looked everywhere for you Y/N. Dean’s still driving around searching. How the hell did you get here?”

“Ran,” you told him with a shrug. “What do we do now? I got less than four hours on the clock. I'm gonna die, Sam.”

You expected a hug, you expected reassurance that they were going to fix this before that happened; you didn’t expect what came next.

“Yeah, you are,” Sam replied with a calm sigh. “You're going back.”

You looked at him puzzled. “Back?” you gulped.

“Downstairs Y/N, hell. It's about damn time, too. Truth is,” he continued, lifting his eyes to reveal a yellow glow. “You've been a real pain in my ass.”

As you leapt back with a scream he grabbed your shoulders hard and threw you against the wall behind you.

“No! You get out of my friend, you evil son of a bitch!” you ordered, somehow sounding more brave than you felt.

“No one's possessing me you moron,” Sam told you, rolling his eyes. “This is what I'm going to become. This is what I want to become. There's nothing you or Dean can do about it.”

Swiftly he brought his hands to your throat and squeezed hard. You couldn’t breath as he cut off your windpipe, and as you struggled to take a breath tears started streaming down your face. You squeezed your eyes shut but opened them quickly when you felt a hand slap your face.

“Hey, hey, hey, Y/N” Sam fretted, shaking your shoulders. “Y/N, come back to me, look at me.”

You did, and were relieved to see his eyes back to their normal colour. His hands were now resting on your shoulders, and not your neck as they were moments ago.

“You… you were choking me,” you spluttered out. He looked at you with pity, and shook his head in denial.

“No Y/N, I swear, I walked through the door and you just started freaking out. Whatever you saw and felt, it wasn’t real.”

“What’s happening to me?” you choked out a sob.

“You’re starting to hallucinate. It’s one of the final stages of the sickness,” he explained with a frown. “Come lay down, I need to call Dean.”

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

You awoke to find the older brother sitting on the couch next to you, your legs draped over his lap as he watched TV with a beer in hand. His hand rested on your hip protectively, and you let out a small smile.

“Hey,” you greeted him, forcing yourself to sit up. He looked at you wide eyed and quickly turned off the TV, holding out a hand to help you sit up.

“You’re awake, how’re you feeling?” he asked. “You know, besides the constant feeling of impending doom.”

You rolled your eyes at him, but let out a small chuckle at his attempt to lighten the mood. You refused his hand, which he expected anyway given your new-found germ phobia, but sat up and leaned against him tiredly.

“How much longer?” you asked in a monotone voice. You were so tired of being scared all the time. A crow squawked outside the window and you leapt in your seat, holding a hand to your heart.

Dean sat his hand on your lap reassuringly. “Long enough to fix it, I promise.”

“Where’s Sam?”

“Ah, he and Bobby are at the wood mill, they have a plan. It’s a good plan too, really really, really… good.”

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

“This is a terrible plan,” Bobby commented.

“Yeah, tell me about it, Sam frowned, attaching the chain to the Impala’s bumper. The ‘plan’, as it was, was to recreate Luther’s death with his ghost. Tie an enchanted chain around his neck, tie that to the Impala, and drag his ass through the mill.

Bobby wore a look of doubt on his face. “I know I said, "scare the ghost to death" but this?”

“Hey, you got a better idea, I'm listening.”

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

You had been successful in calming yourself down since the crow incident, helped immensely by Dean’s shoulder rub. So when the front door swung open you were caught completely unprepared, and as the Sheriff took a swing at Dean you were panicked when he fell to the ground like a stone. He’d pistol whipped him hard, and he was out for the count.

“Dean!” you shrieked, starting to go toward him when the Sheriff lifted the gun and pointed it directly at your head. “What are you doing?” you whimpered, holding your hands up in surrender.

“Why are you looking into Luther Garland's death?” Sheriff Britton asked. Your eyes fell on his outreached arm, his sleeve had ridden up enough to reveal the scratches on his arm which matched your own. Your eyes lit up with recognition.

“Hey, hey, you're -- you're sick. You're sick, all right? Just -- just like me, okay?” You rolled your arm around so he could clearly see your own scratches and bloodied arms. “You’ve got to relax.”

Your advice went unheeded and he punched you across the face. As you fell to the floor he kicked you three times in the gut before stepping back, and you placed a hand over your now bleeding lip and looked up to see the barrel of his gun once again pointed at you.

“Frank O'Brien was my friend,” he hissed. “So he made a mistake. So I didn't bust him. So what? And you're gonna bring me down over that?! Not a chance.”

He pulled the hammer, and just before he could pull the trigger you snapped, jumping forward and grabbing his legs to send him falling back. He lost his grip on the gun and it went flying across the room out of his reach. You half expected him to run for it, but instead he stayed on the ground holding his head in his hands.

“Shut up!” he screamed. “Get away from me!”

“Hey! You’ve got to calm down!” you told him, alarmed to see him start gripping his chest as if he was in pain.

“No no no, please no,” you muttered to yourself, running your hands through your hair. Unsure what to do to help him, knowing that this would be you in a matter of minutes.

The Sheriff let out a strangled gurgle, and as his eyes went blank he fell to the ground unmoving. You could see from where you were that he was not breathing, and it didn't take a genius to know he’d had a heart attack just like the other victims. You let out a cry and fell to the floor yourself, letting the tears fall. Dean was still out of it, and just as you lifted your legs to crawl over to him you heard Sam’s voice echo in your head.

“You're going back. It’s about damn time too. Hahahaha!”

You could hear barking in the distance, and you’d recognise those dogs anywhere. You’d died at the hands of the hellhounds a few years ago, and after the brothers brought you back you’d dreamt that sound for months afterwards.

“Hi Y/N.”

The barking stopped, in fact all noise seemed to cease, and as you slowly lifted your head you could barely believe who was in the room with you.

“S-Sarah?” you choked out.

“Wow, I’m shocked you remember my name, not like you gave a crap in high school. Not until it was too late anyway.” Sarah stood in front of you, her hip jutted out with a hand resting on it. Her neck was red raw and her eyes bloodshot, and dried blood sat under her nose.

“I-I’m s-s-s-”

“Shove your sorry up your ass Y/N, I’m dead because of you!” she snapped viciously before kicking you in the face, rolling you onto your back where you lay defeated. You gripped your chest as you felt a sharp pain, and felt sweat start to bead on your forehead.

“Your sorry means NOTHING! You know what DOES mean something? Years and years of your torture. Sticks and stones will break my bones and words will leave me scarred Y/N! Do you know what happened to my mother when she found me hanging in the shed? She lost her mind, they had to send her away. My sister lost her mother, my dad his wife. And now it’s time for me to have my revenge, an eye for an eye…”

“You – you are not real!” you cried.

“It doesn't matter, you're still gonna die. You're still gonna burn. And I get to be the one to send you there!” Sarah jumped up and down gleefully, clapping her hands together.

“Why me? Why'd I get infected?”

Sarah looked at you with pity, and knelt down on bended knee to your level. She leaned in and whispered menacingly in your ear.

“You moron. You know why. Listen to your heart.”

“Whu...?”

“Baboom,” she spat, smacking her hand on the ground next to your ear with each word. “Baboom baboom baboom baboom!”

Black spots started to float in your vision, and your chest felt like it would explode at any moment. You screamed and rolled to your side into the fetal position, certain this was it. You felt strong hands on your shoulders lifting you up, and you spared a glance to see Dean’s horrified expression staring back at you.

“Y/N! You’re ok, look at me!” he pleaded. You could see tears sitting in his eyes, threatening to fall, and you gulped down a sob.

“I’m sorry,” you managed to splutter out, and he thought you were speaking to him. Your head lolled as the pain in your chest grew to its maximum, and your breathing hitched.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for Y/N, you’re not going anywhere. Stay with me, please.”

He took you in his lap, resting your head against his chest and holding you tightly. You felt your breathing start to slow and your limbs grow heavy. You closed your eyes, your last thoughts of Sam and Dean.

As quickly as you closed your eyes you opened them again, sitting up and taking huge gulpfuls of breath into your lungs. You coughed with the sudden oxygen intake, and realised Sam and Bobby must have smoked the ghost. Looking around you were relieved to see Sarah was gone.

“Thank fuck,” you heard Dean mutter behind you, and you felt his hand on your back rubbing circles as you tried to catch your breath. You turned to look at him and saw the relief on his face as well; his brother and Bobby had come through.

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

“So you guys road-hauled a ghost with a chain?” you asked them incredulously. You were sitting on the roof of Bobby’s car, your feet resting on the bumper, with a beer in hand.

“Iron chain etched with spell work,” Bobby confirmed proudly.

Dean took a swig of his beer. “Hmm, that's a new one.”

“It was what he was most afraid of. It was pretty brutal, though,” Sam said, almost regrettably. Luther wasn’t the bad guy here, and you could only hope he’d gone to a better place in the end.

“On the upside, I'm still alive, so uh, go team!” you say brightly, pumping a fist in the air in celebration.

“Yeah. How’re you feeling, by the way?” Sam asked, neither you or his brother had gone into much detail about what happened in the hotel room in the final hour.

You pursed your lips and took a sip of your drink. “I’m fine.”

“You sure, Y/N? 'Cause this line of work can get awful scary,” Bobby goaded playfully. You gave a small smile, loving him all the more for dispelling the tension with one sentence. You decided to play along.

“I'm fine,” you told him, hopping off the hood of the car. “You want to go hunting? I'll hunt. I'll kill anything.”

“Awwww, she's adorable,” Bobby laughed. “Anyway, I gotta get out of here. You kids drive safe.”

He patted each of the boys on the shoulder and gave you a quick hug before heading around to the driver’s side of his car.

“You too, Bobby. Hey, thanks,” you called after him, raising your beer to him. He in turn tipped his cap to you, and headed off home. You each finished off your beers and headed to the Impala, ready to head out to the next hunt.

“So uh...so, what did you see? Near the end, I mean,” Dean asked curiously.

You scoffed. “Oh, besides a cop beating my ass?” You rubbed a hand gingerly along your still sore ribs.

“Seriously,” Sam added, stopping at the passengers side door waiting for an answer.

You Sighed, and glanced behind him to see Sarah leaning against a nearby tree, watching you closely with a menacing look on her face. You cleared your throat and turned away guiltily, hoping Sam and Dean wouldn’t notice.

“Howler monkeys,” you settled on. “Whole roomful of them. Those things creep the hell out of me.”

Dean and Sam scoffed, knowing you were lying. “Right.”

“No, just the usual stuff guys,” you told them, mustering as much honesty into your voice as you could manage. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

You let out a quiet breath of relief when they both nodded, happy enough with that answer not to push further, and sat in the Impala slamming their doors behind them. You stood for a moment, hand resting on the top of the door while a light breeze blew your hair, as you braved a glance back to the tree. 

Sarah was gone, but you’d never forget her.

Everything Tags: @angelsandwinchesters, @grace-for-sale, @growningupgeek, @iamnotsaneatall, @nanie5, @waywardasfudge, @ronja-uebrick

“Ghost Sickness” Tags: @oneshoeshort, @winchesterxtwo

[almaasi]

reaction post typed while watching SPN 13x23 “Let The Good Times Roll”

idk what you guys thought but I LIKED IT and here’s why!!!! (EXCEPT THAT THING WITH THE KNIFE??? WHAT THE HELL???)

04:02pm

so it only took 45 minutes to an hour to find somewhere to watch this, my thanks to @trisscar368 for helping me out!!!

eventually found it streaming rather than downloading, would not recommend but HEY IT WORKS (for now) [http://gorillavid.in/zbtu97hfei65]

this feels like it’s 2008 all over again, trying to watch doctor who after school

OKAY LET’S GO

i’ve seen a bunch of major spoilers but i know cas doesn’t die so i’m good. apparently it’s A Boring Episode but also MICHEAL and LUCIFER so

idk idk let’s just watch the thing and find out what happens

-

04:04

rowena: is there, i dunno, music? CARRY ON MYY WAYWAR---

fuck

-

04:09pm

feels good having bobby there

-

BOBBY’S REACTION TO TRUMP IS THE BEST EVER

“and you call where WE come from ‘apocalypse world’?”

-

04:11

cas: “they’re talking about whether kylie jenner would make a good mother. consensus is no”

hey give her a chance

i mean i know nothing about her but she seems... teachable?

-

dean: “yeah well, that’s why i’m a chloe man”

WHOOOOOP dean loves his girly trash tv i see

-

brown werewolf: “now that is why i’m a chloe man”

dead brown person alert :|

how naive i was to think he might be left alive because he got a speaking line and made himself a dean parallel with that single line

-

04:16

mary: “do you really like the rain?”

bobby: “when it’s this beautiful, i do”

lest anyone forget bobby is a gentle down to earth sweetheart

soft papa bear

-

“rowena and charlie are road-tripping it through the south-west”

WOULD WATCH THAT SPINOFF

but #savewaywardsisters first

-

04:19

dean: “can you imagine? you, me, cas, toes in the sand, couple of those little umbrella drinks, matching hawaiian shirts, obviously”

PLEASE

“....some hula girls“

mmmm *squints at how that part was said after a....... pause, off-screen with the camera on sam*

-

04:24

dean to jack: “it’s not about being strong....... i don’t know what you went through over there... but i know you came out the other side. because you ARE strong”

good papa dean words

much love for him and his emotional avaliability

-

04:26

dean: “whatever you’re dealing with, whatever comes at us, we’ll figure out a way to deal with it. together. we’re family, kid”

sam said it to dean, dean said it to jack

i guess the next step is ...jack saying it to cas?? SOMEONE’s gotta say it to cas

but also WOOOO DEAN’S CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT REGARDING JACK SINCE THE START OF THE SEASON

-

04:32

um

is it just me or is this a seriously unfortunate racist-looking coincidence

desperately hoping this wasn’t the guy who killed maggie

(i don’t think it is, which means maybe this is a “don’t jump to conclusions” kind of storyline which has a race-relations subtext??? i wish it meant nothing besides jack’s need to protect others, but given the lack of living characters of colour on this show, the minute a person of colour shows up, it BECOMES about the fact they’re not white, bECAUSE they always die, invariably)

anyway, my point is: this is problematic

also the red shirt. as in “red shirts always die” ??

edit: thank goodness....... RED HERRING

-

“3 sheeps” poster in the background

i remember this symbolism from something earlier but can’t remember exactly what

i’m thinking lambs to the slaughter, or being part of a flock, or being herded into something they’re wrong about, being naive, following each other one by one into the unknown

wow reading tarot has improved my “make a list of all the obvious symbolism” skills

-

04:39

the fact cas is suffering with the angel language whistle is interesting?? i thought it hurts dean because he can’t understand it

which means.......cas isn’t understanding this noise?

or maybe he is understanding, it’s just real loud

-

04:42

enjoying sam being protective of cas

-

lucifer: ........”the three amigos.... sam, dean, and the other one”

that’s probably how a lot of people see team free will tbh

how sad

-

lucifer: “you want a lightsaber?”

jack:

vroom

we mAY HAVE LONG SAID HE’S TOO PRECIOUS FOR THIS WORLD BUT WE NEVER MEANT FOR HIM TO LEAVE

-

04:50

that awkward moment when you’re trying to solve a murder and your adorable magic grandson comes home with the devil

:o

-

the face you make when the devil makes an ableist joke about your son and then says “no offence”

(the ”i would murder you but there’s enough dead bodies in here right now” face)

-

04:56

maggie: “kinda seems like you have... you know, bigger.... satan-y... problems”

bless this girl

-

05:00

dean: “as shakespeare once said: eat me, dick-bag”

tbh shakespeare probably did say that at one point or another

add shakespeare to the list of dean’s bisexual heroes

(follow up thought: what if when cas could time-travel, he and dean and sam went to go explore shakespeare’s town and dean made.... Friends)

-

05:04

lucifer’s talking to jack about their future space travels

i mean i think it’s fairly obvious, lucifer was the one who killed maggie, so he could bring her back and impress jack

maggie said “i didn’t see their face but i saw their eyes” and that means it was either lucifer or michael with the glowing eyes, and micheal said to dean “you’ll be the first life i take in this world” which leaves lucifer

stinking nasty manipulative trash angel

-

05;07

micheal, while strangling dean: “could’ve done this quick, but i wanted to enjoy it, that moment when the soul leaves the body”

yeeeah okay sure, speak aloud your reasons you’re stalling for time while jack figures out how to get back

-

05:10

jack to lucifer: “you’re not my father. you monster”

HUZZAH

-

for the record i’m... reaLLY ENJOYING THIS episode so far

it’s all big and mighty and magical but the core of the story is a boy trying to find his family and figure out the truth behind his manipulative father

i’m so glad it led to this because i am HERE for this kind of story

the world hangs in the balance, but it’s not dean, cas and sam trying to save everyone, it’s jack trying to find his place among loved ones, and by following his desire to help people he’s learning what he needs to know

i fucking love this okay

-

05:14

lucifer: i just need your power--

OH NO I SPOKE TOO SOON

OH NO

-

05:17

michael: “this is the end. of everything”

I SEE DEAN’S COGS WHIRRING AND I WORRY

nine years of not saying yes to micheal and now it’s happening isn’t it

-

05:20

jack’s pained little whimper :c :c :c

-

05:21

dean: “i am your sword”

CHILLS

-

05:22

dean: “CAS I DON’T HAVE A CHOICE”

cas: D:

PERFECT MOMENT FOR AN AGGRESSIVE KISS but nope that would be too much like goodbye

-

05:24

third option rather than sam or jack trying to kill each other: they pick up lucifer’s blade and kill lucifer with it

-

05:26

WHAT 

NO

??????

BAD IDEA????

JUST STAB LUCIFER????

-

jack:  i love you

NOO ;;A;A;A;A;A;A;A;;A;A

DJSGJD

I’M NOT ENJOYING THIS 0/10 WOULD NOT RECOMMEND 

PLEASE STOP

-

05:27

WELL FUCK

hi there

WHHHOOOOOOO

meanwhile back at the bunker: cas has the weirdest traumatic boner

-

05:29

THE WINGS KEEP GETTING BIGGER

-

05:31

interesting angel flying physics here

dean flails while sailing slowly backwards

i mean i know he’s on a suspension wire but technically waving his arms about ought to affect his position

-

05:33

LITERALLY SAM COULD’VE DONE THAT TO BEGIN WITH

WHAT EVEN WAS THE POINT OF THIS

HE COULD’VE ACTED LIKE HE WAS ABOUT TO STAB JACK AND THEN GO WHOOSH AND STAB LUCIFER

SAM HAS FUCKING NOODLE ARMS HE COULD’VE DONE IT WITH HIS EYES CLOSED

JEEZ

-

05:35

okay but i’m laughing right now

are you telling me this is what happens if lucifer accidentally trips and falls on his knife

where did that golden blade come from anyway

has lucifer just been carrying it around this whole time?

COULD ANYONE HAVE PICKPOCKETED THAT KNIFE AND STABBY STABBY >>> EXPLODING FLYING FLAME DEVIL ??

WHAT BRAIN CELLS WAS LUCIFER MISSING TO HAND THAT BLADE TO SAM WINCHESTER IN THE FIRST PLACE

OR GO INTO BATTLE WITH MICHAEL WITHOUT THE KNIFE

OR TO HAVE THAT BLADE ON HAND IN THE FIRST PLACE ??????????

I’m sorry i just find this hilarious

i mean good fucking riddance to this trash angel but wow what a way to get there

all of this was so easily avoidable ?? i seriously don’t understand what possessed sam to think “aw yeah let’s pick up this magic devil blade to KILL MY OWN SON and/or HAND IT TO HIM SO HE CAN KILL ME” instead of “umMMM the devil just gave me a magic knife and is trying to tell us to kill each other maybe we should kill him with it”

I HOPE SOMEONE IN THE WRITER’S ROOM HAS A REALLY GOOD EXPLANATION FOR THIS

-

05:45

HAPPY RELIEVED SAMMY

why do i feel like everything’s about to go terribly terribly wrong, worse than before

-

05:48

i mean micheal!dean looks good though

despite everything i think dean would approve of the outfit

-

like he actually looks a little bit TOO attractive

definitely not to be trusted

you know when people just look TOO handsome and shiny and perfect and they’re TOO charming and you know something’s up

this guy’s got danger written all over him in sleek & elegant calligraphy

-

05:50pm

mmmmmmmmm okay, it’s over

i liked it ?

felt old-school, kinda like a buffy episode or an x-files episode

things i’m happy about: everyone lived and lucifer died!! this is a pretty cool progression of events and i’m interested to see where it goes (not EXCITED, i’m not EAGER, but i am interested). that black dude was not the one who killed maggie. maggie survived!!!

things i’m not thrilled about: the fact sam didn’t just stab lucifer in the face when he was right next to him holding the magic knife?????? i don’t get it and i don’t think any kind of meta is actually gonna be able to explain how ~UM EXCUSE ME JUST ONE SECOND~esque that moment was

no bechdel test pass

jack’s personal arc this season was great and i love him

as always, this show is riveting to me only because i care so much about the characters, and i cannot tELL YOu how fucking pleased i am that this show’s universe is now a universe where bobby, charlie, mary, rowena, dean, cas, sam, jack, jody, donna, claire, the other wayward girls, and billie ALL EXIST AND ARE ALIVE

seriously could’ve done with some kevin too, i’m still bummed that he’s died TWICE now and isn’t back permanently yet

but HOLY SHIT THE REST OF THEM ARE ALL ALIVE 

GIVE ME A TEAM-FREE-WILL-MAJOR SEASON WITH ALL THE SQUAD ALIVE AND KICKING ASS AS A GROUP

like... save dean as a group, then one by one discover that dean and cas have been locked in a room without clothes for three days, then save the world and retire forever as a happy, healthy hunter squad with their gay dads

FUCK YEAH

overall, this episode is maybe a 9/10 just because that FUCKING KNIFE man. i dunno what to think about that.

like .........why

i also want cas to have a season arc!!! a positive one!!! where he actually accepts love and expresses affection and receives AUDIBLE AND VISIBLE AND TANGIBLE affection from others!!!

and for fuck’s sakes stop killing people of colour, give us more women of colour who are good and don’t die, pass the bechdel test more often

AND ABOVE ALL GIVE US WAYWARD SISTERS I WANT THAT SHOW SO BADLY AND EVERYTHING IT REPRESENTS

IT WOULD FILL IN ALL THE GAPS THAT ARE MISSING FROM THIS SHOW

PLEASE

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Big Bad Dean Winchester (Part 5)

Summary: When the dust settles after the attack, the reader is left to navigate the aftermath on her own...

Big Bad Dean Winchester Masterlist

Pairing: Endverse!Dean x reader

Word Count: 3,200ish

Warnings: language, implied smut, horror themes

A/N: This was a very unique series to write that had it’s challenges but was a joy all the same...

The second you got the signal you could leave, you ran out of the cellar as fast as you could, making a move for the front gate. You had to slow down when you saw the carnage there but after a few deep breaths you spotted Benny.

“Is anyone-”

“Everyone’s fine,” said Benny. “A little scraped up but we’re all okay. Can’t say the same for those Crooked folks...”

“Yeah, I can tell,” you said, avoiding looking to your right where some of them lay. 

“Dean knew this was going to happen eventually. Good thing we were prepared,” said Benny, watching you spin around to look for him. “He’s not here. One got away. Our lovely friend Abby. Dean went after her, said you’re in charge for now.”

“Me? No! Chuck or Bobby or you or-”

“Boss said you and you’re already his VP so time to step up, Y/N,” said Benny. You shook your head and he chuckled. “He didn’t tell you did he? Anything happens to him, he wants you to replace him.”

“I don’t know what to do, Benny,” you said, throwing your arms up. “I barely can run the research team and it’s just three of us.”

“Found a cure. Pretty impressive research team,” said Benny, patting you on the back. “Talk to Chuck and keep everyone away from the front gate today. We’ve got a mess to clean up and nobody needs to see this.”

“When’s Dean coming back?” you asked.

“I have no clue, honey. Dean’s not going to come back until Abby’s dealt with and I don’t know how long that’ll take.”

Six Months Later

“Morning boss,” said Chuck, bringing you a bean buritto as you tied your boot.

“Morning,” you said with a yawn, stretching out before taking a seat at the table, reaching for Dean’s notebook. “You brought me breakfast. Did someone die?”

“No, I have good news. Stacy and Todd had a healthy baby girl during the night. First baby born in who knows how long,” said Chuck.

“Aw, I want to see her when they’re up for it. Make sure Todd is off work the next few weeks. He’s a hard worker, he’ll want to get back but I want him to make sure he spends time with them,” you said, Chuck smirking at you. “What?”

“Six months ago you were terrified of this and now it comes second nature,” said Chuck.

“I don’t care if it’s the apocalypse or not. Babies are cute as shit and parents should get to spend time with them,” you said. “Speaking of apocalypse...”

“Charlie group is reporting more of the same,” said Chuck. “All Croats with the cure have returned to their former selves, no new cases, even with bites in the past six months. Distribution is running smoothly but slowly. We’re still working on large scale dispersal somehow, maybe by air but we really got it Y/N, we got the cure.” 

“It’s great Chuck, really,” you said, giving him a smile before glancing over to the green jacket on the back of a chair that hadn’t been touched in months. “He didn’t come home though.”

“We know he got Abby. We know he took a go bag and his gun. He’s alive out there, somewhere,” said Chuck.

“We couldn’t have gotten this without him,” you said. “If he never built this place up, we never would have found it. He deserves to know that he made the world start again.”

“I think he knows,” said Chuck. You went through your usual morning checklist, eating as you went, Chuck’s walkie going off the second you stood up. “Say that again?”

“There’s a guy at the front gate. Wants to talk to Y/N. Doesn’t want to come in or anything, just talk. Seems sketchy,” said Benny. You put your gun in your holster and threw on your coat. 

“We’ll be there in five,” said Chuck.

“You know the drill, boss,” said Benny. You crossed your arms and he huffed. “Fine, the guy tries something you can shoot him princess.”

“Such a gentleman, Benny,” you said, standing next to the gate. “Watch my back.”

The two of you stepped outside, the man tall, taller than Dean, his hood covering most of his face.

“Are you Y/N?” he asked, keeping his face hidden.

“Stand down Benny, I got this,” you said, waving him to go back inside. He did as told, the gate closing back up. “You’re Sam Winchester,” you said, spotting the coat from the photo you’d looked at so many times. “I thought you were dead.”

“I had an unwanted house guest for a few months,” said Sam, barely giving you a chance to see his face before hiding it away again. “He’s back in his cage.”

“I heard about that,” you said. “You’ve obviously heard about Camp Winchester then.”

“Stories mostly. Stories of a cure, stories I didn’t believe necessarily until I got about three hundred miles out and started seeing people again. There’s not that many of us left but...what we got is good,” he said, digging his hands in his pockets, offering you a smile. “I heard a badass chick Y/N runs this place.”

“I do,” you said. “Temporarily. I’m waiting for the boss to get back.”

“Dean’s alive,” said Sam, no surprise in his voice. “There was another story, a guy telling anyone and everyone about the cure, that it’s here.”

“Explains our sudden influx over the past few months,” you said, looking behind you. “We’re about sixty percent of the park now. We always have room for more if you’d like to stay.”

“I have some things to make up for,” said Sam. “I can’t settle down quite yet.”

“Is that a Winchester thing? This self-depreciating crap you guys got going on?” you asked.

“I kind of started the apocalypse,” said Sam with a shrug. “The least I can do is spread the word about this place.”

“Come home someday,” you said, pulling a red band out of your jacket pocket, placing it on his wrist.

“What’s this?” he asked, watching you turn the band inside out and fish a marker out of your pocket. “This person...is family. What does that mean?”

“It means go do your good Sam and then come home. Winchester’s are always welcome here,” you said.

“What’s your’s say?” asked Sam, seeing you flip it around to show it was blank. “Did Dean give that to you?”

“I’m waiting for him to come home too. He’s being a lazy ass about it but you know...at least he’s cute,” you said, Sam raising an eyebrow.

“He’s alright,” said Sam, smiling when he caused one to show up on your face. “Someday I’ll be back. I promise.”

“Wait,” you said, his body turning to go. “Would you like to say hello to your old friends?”

“If I do, then I’ll never leave,” said Sam. “I swear it, I’ll be back Y/N.”

“You better,” you said. “Home by the holidays at the latest Sam!”

“See you around, Y/N. Thanks for saving the world and all that,” he said with a wave, heading off down the road.

“Bye Sam,” you said, walking back inside.

“Oh! You know about the bunker right?” asked Sam, spinning around, stopping you in your tracks. “Might be a good place to look for Dean.”

“It’s not safe,” you said.

“Says the chick who can cure Croats? I’m sure Dean got all those people taken care of no problem now that Lucifer stopped filling it up as a joke,” said Sam. “If you’re looking, that’s where I’d start.”

“See you soon Sam,” you said with a wave, heading back inside.

“What’d he want?” asked Benny.

“Just a good samaritan spreading word of the cure. He’ll be back,” you said, turning your attention to Chuck who was talking to the motor pool lead. “Chuck? I’ve got to take off for a few days. Can you handle things around here?”

“Yeah. We’re well stocked and growing a lot of food now. We don’t need-”

“It’s personal business. I checked with the boss. She said it was fine,” you said, giving him a smile. “Four days tops?”

“Yeah, I got this. You know where Dean is, don’t you?” he asked.

“I don’t know actually but I can hope.”

Two Days Later

The garage to the bunker was open and looked a hell of a lot cleaner than the last time you were there which was a good sign you told yourself. Someone was living there and cared enough to have organized everything down to the tools on the bench. Still, you didn’t immediately call out for someone. Life around the camp had gotten safer but Croats were out and about and you couldn’t assume anything.

“I wouldn’t go scavenging in there if I were you,” said a voice behind you. “Hands.”

You held them up, your jacket sleeve falling down to show your band, a tiny laugh escaping the man behind you.

“Hi Dean,” you said, turning around, Dean already stepping forward and picking you up. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Taking care of you or at least trying to. I probably should have checked in that I was alright,” he said.

“Do you think so?” you said, patting his arm as he set you back on your feet. “Cleaned up the Croats running around here?”

“Yup, all taken care of. This place is good as new,” said Dean.

“We got a lot of people now and why the hell did you put me in charge! I wanted to come and find you,” you said. He shrugged and you rolled your eyes. “You better have a good reason for not coming home.”

“I am home,” said Dean. “I used to live here.”

“I know,” you said, rubbing your arm. “You just...didn’t come back.”

“Come inside, I have something I want to show you,” he said, walking past you into the garage. You found your way into the library again, Dean chuckling when he saw your hand over your gun the whole time. “This place is safe. Nothing’s going to get you again.”

“You’ve been researching?” you asked, spotting the stacks of books all around. “We have a cure.”

“I got to thinking that the cure is great but how do we deliver it? It’s not like a flu shot and we can expect everyone left in the world to show up at our door. The Croats would be a whole other problem to turn back so I thought think like the demons did. How did the Croatoan virus get released on such a large scale that the whole world was infected in a matter of days? I’m trying to figure it out. I think I’m close but I could really use some help,” said Dean.

“Do you think...Lucifer would know?” you asked, Dean’s face contorting. “Or someone who was in his head.”

“Y/N, Sam is gone. Lucifer...I told you that in confidence. Only the founders know how the world really went to shit. You haven’t...” said Dean.

“No Dean, I told no one. But Sam isn’t gone. Lucifer is,” you said.

“Sam’s dead. Lucifer is running around in his body,” said Dean, glancing away, taking a seat at one of the tables.

“I saw Sam. He didn’t look like he had the devil running around in him,” you said, Dean shaking his head.

“It wasn’t Sam. He tricked you. Somehow Lucifer survived when we attacked him and...I don’t know but there’s not much point if he’s still out there,” said Dean. You scrunched up your face and slid off your backpack, hopping up on the table, crossing your legs and staring down at him. “What.”

“It was Sam,” you said. “I know the difference.”

“You never met Sam,” said Dean. “You never met Lucifer. How would you ever know?”

“I have this thing called hope,” you said, Dean wanting so badly to roll his eyes at you. “He got a red band so it’s too late now.”

“It’s not Sam,” said Dean. You heard the front door open, your head whipping to the right, Dean’s looking the same direction as you caught sight of a patch of brown locks. 

“Y/N, we should have carpooled,” joked Sam, stepping down inside, Dean standing in front of you. “I figured I owed Dean an apology. I’ve only tried to kill you how many times since this all went down?”

“Y/N, go,” said Dean. “I’ll hold him off.”

“Dean, look at him,” you said, putting a hand on Dean’s arm as you got to your feet. “It’s Sam.”

Dean stepped away from you and gave you a hard glare that confused you. You looked over to Sam who was sighing. Dean was eyeing you up and down, his hand on his gun as you stepped back.

“You think I’m sick,” you said, Dean nodding slightly. “Or that I’m a demon.”

“I’m leaning more in that direction but yeah, you’re spot on,” said Dean. 

“I knew it was a mistake to wait this long to search for you. You should never have been on your own this long,” you said, Dean undoing the clasp on his holster, hand around the grip of his gun. 

“You both showing up here together, both of you...I don’t know if you’re human or demon or devil or Croat or what,” said Dean. “This is not a happy ending. We don’t get those.”

“You’re right. You already fucked that up,” said Sam, Dean taking his gun out, focusing in on Sam. “Do it. I deserve it.”

“No Sam, you don’t,” you said, Dean’s arms starting to raise up at Sam. You scoffed and drew Dean’s attention, his eyes on yours for a brief moment, gaze falling down when he saw you walk over to the younger Winchester. 

“Just get it over with,” said Dean, shoving his gun back in his holster, running his hands over his face. “I can’t...”

That’s when you noticed the scar on his forearm. A bite.

“Dean, sit down and take a deep breath for me,” you said, Dean practically falling back into his seat. You ran over to your backpack and pulled out the small case with the few doses of cure you always brought with you on trips. “Sam, I need you to come over here and make sure Dean doesn’t do something stupid.”

“Is he sick?” asked Sam. Dean shook his head at you but caught your sad smile.

“Dean was the first person to ever take the vaccine that hadn’t been bit. During testing we realized we were missing a little thing. It wasn’t fully effective, people went a little...coo coo for coaco puffs if you get what I’m saying,” you said, tugging Dean’s flannel off his arm, poking the head of a syringe into his bicep as he winced.

“What are you doing?” asked Dean, jerking away, taking a few deep breaths as he shook his head.

“He’s not exactly in the best state of mind is what I’m getting at. He should be back to normal any minute now,” you said. Dean huffed and ran his hands over his face, Sam standing watch next to Dean as you slowly saw him relax and lift his head up.

“Oh, I was going to...shit I was supposed to head back to camp months ago,” said Dean, shaking his head. “Shit.”

“You’re okay now buddy,” said Sam stepping away but Dean standing and pulling him into a hug fast. “Um...you aren’t going to try and kill me again, right?”

“No, definitely not. Sorry,” said Dean quietly. He pulled back and slapped his brother on the back, plenty more needed to be said but for now they both looked relieved.

“You okay?” you asked, reaching up a hand to ruffle Dean’s head. “I told you it was stupid to take that vaccine so soon.”

“I’d be a full fledge Croat if I hadn’t,” said Dean, giving you a brief smile. “It wasn’t my brightest moment though, I’ll give you that.”

“Speaking of which, Sam, take a seat,” you said, pulling out another syringe, Sam shaking his head. “You got out of this once, now sit your ass down Winchester.”

“She’s bossy,” said Sam, sitting down as you gave him a shot, Sam blinking fast a few times. “Woah that feels...good?”

“You were sick. Of course you feel better,” you said. Dean was leaning up against the wall, looking around a bit lost. “When’d you get bit De?”

“A long time ago,” said Dean, rubbing at his arm. “I was going to come right back. I swear it.”

“It’s alright,” you said, wrapping him up into a big hug. “You weren’t thinking straight.”

“When have I ever,” said Dean, taking a seat beside Sam. “How did you survive?”

“No idea,” said Sam. “You?”

“Her,” said Dean, nodding up at you. “I lost myself for a while there.”

“Y/N’s kind of...different,” said Sam, looking over as you took a seat across from them. “In a good way.”

“Can you come home now? I’m sick of being the boss. I’d much rather go back to sanitation,” you said, Dean chuckling. “Sam, you’re coming with us.”

“I told you kiddo, I can’t come back, not yet,” said Sam. “Maybe I can stay here as a halfway house. It’s only a two day drive from the camp. I can help relay people there, help distribute from here?”

“I’m sure we got distribution down if you want to help me tweak a few of the details,” said Dean. “I wasn’t completely nuts before.”

“I’ll think about it,” said Sam. “But I don’t guarantee I’m coming back.”

Three Months Later

“Good morning,” you said, Dean’s kiss on your shoulder waking you up.

“Morning, sunshine,” said Dean, his lips smiling against your skin. “Think we can sleep in?”

“Slackers, open up,” you heard Sam say from the other side of your door. 

“I’ll take that as a no,” you said, bending down and pulling Dean’s shirt over you and a pair of underwear on as Dean did the same. 

“Good morning,” said Sam when you answered the door. 

“Morning, Sammy,” you said, waving him inside. 

“I was just kidding about the slacker thing,” he said, taking a seat at your table as Dean pulled on another shirt and moved to make a cup of coffee, the gas back on in the cabins improving life immensely the past two months.

“What’s up dork? Cracking under the pressure of being boss yet?” asked Dean.

“I’ll make you take it back,” said Sam.

“Uh uh. We like our jobs now,” said Dean. “What’s up?”

“I was stopping by for breakfast was all,” said Sam, Dean rolling his eyes but ruffling his head as he sat a mug down in front of him. 

“We were going to sleep in you know,” said Dean.

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” teased Sam, earning a smack on the back of the head. “Jerk.”

“Bitch,” said Dean. “You still think we got a shot at making the playoffs today?”

“Obviously not. We are so the underdogs it’s not even funny,” said Sam. 

“Oh, we’re going to win,” said Dean. “Just got to have a little hope Sammy. Right Y/N?”

“Yeah, Dean. Thankfully we’ve got plenty of that around,” you said.

“Y/N, would you help me for a minute?” asked Dean, waving you into the kitchenette. “Can you hold out your arm?”

“Okay,” you said, holding up your left, Dean pushing it back down and pulling up the other one. He flipped your band inside out and grabbed a marker from the counter, smiling at you as he pulled off the cap and jotted something down, flipping the band back over.

“All set,” he said, giving your cheek a kiss.

“Finally figured out what you want to say?” you asked, Dean shrugging.

“Always knew. Never knew how to phrase it,” he said. “You’re allowed to look.”

“Someday,” you said. “I already know what it says.”

“Yes, you do sweetheart,” said Dean. “Thank you so much for it.”

@anokhi07 @xxwinchester-22xx @charliebradbury1104 @everyday-supernatural-af @squirels-angels-and-moose @youwerelikeadream @drugpug @darkx143 @kristaparadowski @tom-is-in-my-tardis @tanithlowisabamf @smoothdogsgirl @dancingalone21 @ktrivia @demonic-meatball @feelmyroarrrr  @cojootromuelle @gallifreyansass @fangirl1802 @casgetoutofmydiddlydarnass @mogaruke @ria132love @heycassbutt-67 @aingealcethlenn @docharleythegeekqueen @missmotherhen @smacklesandstretch67 @ceeceewinchester

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@zeusmyster @maddieburcham1 @moonstar86 @kathaswings @my-blogging-skills-are-rusty @arryn-nyxx @kickasscas67 @mrsbatesmotel53 @sup3r-pott3r-lock3d @i-ship-crazy-crap @untitled39887 @extreme-supernatural-lover @emilymorgan1994 @boxywrites @fallen-castiel @its-not-a-tulpa @pillow223 @jaelami @roxyspearing @fandom--shipper

@acreativelydifferentlove @secretlyfurrydragon @perpetualabsurdity @bellastellaluna @amionthetumbler @sassyspn67 @lemonadegazeelle @maximoffangel-girl @milo-winchester-4ever @pickupthatamulet @dean-winchesters-baby @eurusholmmes @earthtokace @clintonvillegirl @sasquatch5