#*scrubs hand down face - turns to fix sam with a hard glare*

[bloodfreak-boyking]

what if this whole thing was over tonight? man, i'd sleep for a month. go back to school - be a person again.

this feels like the start of a love confession ngl

[wormstacheangel]

Dean has an official novio for like half a night and he just can't stop thinking about it.

Read the other parts of my latinenatural fic Aqui! Y como siempre, I don't know what I'm doing.

Dean knew su Tio Bobby was going to be the most important and hardest person to accept Cas. El viejito had trust issues with anybody he didn’t know pero americanos especially. Maybe he would accept the gay stuff easier than the fact that his boyfriend was white. Pero add white y con dinero, va a tener un infarto del corazón. It’s too far from what they are used to.

Y con Rufus talking government conspiracies with him like they’re Rosa De Gauadalupe episodes, Bobby is nothing but a paranoid viejito.

He left Benny in charge of finishing the top floor with another guy and Cas waved goodbye, his usual lame little wave that made Dean’s chest ache for him, before Benny grabbed his attention. Dean wanted to wave back but he was busy trying to get away from his Tio’s pellizcos that led him to the elevator.

On the elevator ride down, Bobby warned Dean and Sam to stay away from the actual workers of the building.

“Todos estos americanos piensan que pueden ser lo que le dan la gana nomas porque tienen dinero.”

“Pero, Tío-”

“Ni los quiero solos con ellos.” Bobby turned to look at both of them, the regular grouchy old man face replaced by concerned round eyes. He sighed as he talked slower, “Ya saben. Si algo pasa, va a ser tu palabra contra la de ellos. So nomas, dale ojo y cuidasen. Okay?”

“Si, Tio.” Dean and Sam both say at the same time.

Dean could feel Sam’s pity eyes on him the whole ride down.

For the rest of the night, Dean worked under Bobby’s watch along with Sam. Sneaking off to go with Cas might be more complicated than he thought, and while he cleaned, he kept trying to think of excuses, but nothing felt believable enough. He might just end up heading home at this rate.

Pero Cas’ promise to celebrate kept replaying in his head. Leaving him feeling all warm and fuzzy porque they haven’t really done much since getting together. It could be porque siempre cuando empiezan; Dean gets a little nervous since he hasn’t been with a guy before, so he makes some excuse to stop before the belts come off.

Though their last make-out session ended with them coming in their pants like teenagers and for the rest of the date, Dean kept trying to ignore the fact that Cas was sitting by him with no underwear on.

Luckily, Cas was patient with him and always made sure Dean was comfortable. Still, Dean can’t keep the image of Cas panting his name at bay, and now that they're official--Y Dean ya acepto que si esta enamorado de el--he wanted the first time with Cas to happen soon.

Como ahora.

Esta noche.

¡Ay, Dios mío! He’s going to have sex with Cas tonight. He’s going to fucking do it. Oh fuck. He’s going to...He needs to sit down.

“Oye, cabrón!” Dean looks up to see Bobby glaring at him while Sam watched him with an amused smile. “No se lo que estás pensando pero trabaja! O ni te pago nada.”

“I do this for free!”

“Por pendejo.”

They finished in little under an hour and luckily before midnight, so Dean still had the excuse to go out with some friends. El baile has been his saving grace with sneaking out, along with working for Victor, so he figured Bobby wouldn’t question him much if he says some friends are going to pick him up.

Pero wait.

Dean just had his hand down a toilet, he had a glove, but still, he needed to go home and shower.

He was helping pack everything up, waiting for Cas to come downstairs, so he could sneak off and let him know that he would go home, take a shower real quick and then go pick him up. Todo va a estar bien. Dean no está pensando demasiado de esto que se está sintiendo faint. Nomas tiene que respirar profundamente.

Uno.

The elevator dings.

Dos.

The doors slide open.

Tres.

Dean’s eyes widened as he choked on his breath, creating a scene when a coughing fit started. All eyes were on him as he tried to hold in his cough, but his face started to heat up.

Dean felt embarrassed as he met Cas’s concerned eyes, but he held his hand out to stop him from coming to check up on him, giving him a thumbs up in reassurance when Cas looked like he wasn’t going to listen to him.

Dean was just taken back when he looked up to see su novio de una hora en los brazos de otro. Dean felt Sam come to his side, but he pushed him away, letting him know he was okay before standing tall.

Cas laughed at something Benny leaned in close to say, with his stupid accent.

Bobby walked by, struggling to carry some of the buckets, and Dean stopped him so his Tio could see what he was looking at.

“Tio, y porque you don’t tell Benny anything about staying away from the americano?”

Bobby looked up to where Dean glared, but he just waved his hand before letting out an annoyed old man grunt.

“Él no es mi niño. Aver, que me importa Benny. Nomas quiero que llegue a trabajar a tiempo y no puede hacer eso! Pinche huevon.”

Bobby pushed his way past him, grumbling about nobody helping him even though Dean just finished packing up the extra van, and Dean scrubbed a hand down his face to leave it over his mouth. Then, watching as Cas’s eyes widen at the sight of Benny’s dumb fake fangs.

El pinche loco deals with brujeria, which is why Bobby has been too scared even to consider firing Benny for all his tardies. Dean thought Benny was cool, someone interesting to look at every once in a while, but right now, Dean would happily fire him if he didn’t get his arm off his boyfriend.

Dean whistles to grab Benny’s attention, a loud chifla that grabbed everyone else’s attention tambien. “Benny, hermano, you’re driving.” Dean points a thumb to the van outside and digs into his pocket for the keys.

He chucks the keys at Benny, who caught them with a raised brow. “Since when you let me drive?”

Benny and Cas walked over to him, Cas eyeing him with a small smile as if he was excited to just be near him. The blush that warmed his ears was quickly ignored as he cleared his throat, looking back at Benny.

“Just go warm up the car.”

“Sure, hermano.” Benny shrugged and looked back at Cas with a glimmering smirk to show off the fang if Dean has to see it again, lo va a jalar de su boca. “How about I walk you to your car, Castiel?”

Cas looked between Benny and Dean nervously, but Dean made the decision. He took Benny’s arm off Cas and started shoving him towards the door.

“It’s Mr. Novak to you, bruja. At least have the decency to respect our customers while we are at work.”

Benny chuckled as he waved back at Cas, who was following behind them. “Well, how about I walk Mr. Novak to his car then? I’m sure he’ll appreciate the company.” Benny winked, and Dean had to fight his jealousy.

“I’ll walk him! You go do your damn job!” He didn’t fight hard enough.

“Wait, no. I wanna-” Benny started, but he must have read something in Dean that made him sigh, giving up. “Fine. Have a goodnight, Mr. Novak.”

“You too.” Cas sounded like he enjoyed the whole thing while Dean was heating up in a mix of embarrassment and celos.

They locked the office building, and Benny made his way to the back of the building while Dean followed Cas to private parking spots meant for the important folks. He watched as his boyfriend dug into his backpack for the keys, cause, of course, they wouldn't be in his pocket.

“Perdón.” Dean quickly said as they walked closer to Cas’s car. “I didn’t mean to make such a scene back there.”

“I’m guessing that means sorry.” Cas clicked his car to life. It was a beautiful and new-looking car, making Dean wonder why Cas always insisted Dean drive when he had such a nicer car. “And it’s fine. I’m not really into the jealous-”

“¡No soy celoso!” Dean quickly defended himself half-heartedly. “I mean, I’m usually not.”

Cas opened his driver-side door and threw his backpack into the passenger side before turning back to Dean. “Benny was just talking to me about his...lifestyle. I found it interesting.”

“Porfavor,” Dean took a step forward and took Cas’s face in his hands. “Don’t turn into a vampiro. I need my Tio to like you.”

Cas chuckled before he took Dean’s hands. Their fingers intertwined as they swung between them. “Right now, I only care if you like me.”

“Eso si, you don’t have to worry about.” Dean leaned forward and kissed at the corner of Cas’s lips. “I think I like you way too much.”

“Then why aren’t you coming home with me.” Cas turned his head so their lips could brush, kissing him slowly. “I thought we were-”

“We are!” Dean pressed Cas against his car, feeling Cas’s hands reach to wrap around him. Bundling Dean’s shirt in his fist as he tugged him closer, heavy breaths mixing as they continued to brush lips. “Nomas me voy a ir a mi casa and shower first. But I’ll go over.”

Cas hummed in response before he tilted forward to kiss him properly. He felt the swipe of Cas’s tongue on his lower lip before Dean moaned into it. Opening up to welcome Cas and completely melting under his touch. Pero desea más. Desea tocar más piel. Desea quemarse en el calor de su novio. Y nomas…

A long honk made them both jump and pull back, breathing heavily as they continued to look at each other. Dean’s heart raced in fear of being caught, but then Cas smiled--fuck. Está completamente perdido en su novio.--as he reached over to fix Dean's hair.

Dean catches his breath, heart not slowing down, as he feels Cas’s fingers comb through his hair. The soft-touch of his hand slowly caressing down the side of his face until they fall to his side. He looked wide-eyed as his chest falls steady against Dean’s own, watching him como si tuviera la luna y las estrellas en la mano.

“I love you.” Cas breathes, his face softening with a slight relief of a smile. “I didn’t want you to go thinking I don’t. Cause I do. I love--te amo.”

“Angelito,” Dean’s voice was shaky as he dropped his face to hide into Cas’s neck.

Cas wrapped his arms around Dean’s shoulders, holding him in the safety of his arms. He felt a kiss on his shoulder; it was warm and lingering.

“I’ll see you later?” They heard the loud and long car horn again. Reminding Dean he had to leave.

“Yeah. Yeah, nos vemos.”

-

Dean walked over to Cas’ front door, smelling himself. He already knew he smelled good from Sam’s comment about using a whole bottle of cologne--he aired himself out on the drive over just in case he wasn’t lying--and because he scrubbed himself raw in the shower. Every inch of him, and he means every goddamn inch, was clean like never before.

Pero todavía está un poquito nervioso. Va ser la primera vez que va mirar adentro de la casa que ni Maria la del Barrio podría quejarse. Esta bonita de afuera; grande, blanca, y zacate cuidado como si ningún perro lo hubiera tocado. Pero de adentro, que sabe. Se imagina se va mirar como una casa de Architectural Digest pero también no tan así.

Cas does live just a few blocks away from la colonia, so it can’t be that fancy. Hopefully.

He rings at Cas’s doorbell as he switches from one leg to the other. His mind was focused entirely at what he would say to Cas as soon as he opened the door--maybe he should just kiss him and not say anything--that it scared the shit out of him when he noticed someone standing beside him.

“Ay! Pinche-” Dean took a deep breath and glared at the guy standing beside him with an amused grin. “Who are you?”

The guy lifted the brown paper McDonalds bags. “Delivery.”

“Oh. I didn’t know he ordered food.” Dean reached to take them, but the guy pulled them out of reach.

“Unless you are Cas Novak, then I can’t give you these.”

“He’s my-”

The door quickly opens wide to a freshly showered--like still hair dripping showered-- no shirt, sweatpants hanging low, and wide-eyed looking Cas.

Both Dean and the delivery guy stop bickering to say, “Wow.” simultaneously.

Porque, Cas looked so good. Mejor que good! Era el hombre más guapo que había visto. Swayze y Ford no podían compararse con su novio.

¡Su pinche novio!

He wanted to touch him, but at the same time, he was suddenly too scared to make the first move. But that’s his--fuck!--that’s his boyfriend. That’s his boyfriend.

That’s his fucking white, gorgeous, and totally out of his league class-wise boyfriend!

Ay. Dean felt weak in the knees, his eyes still stuck on his boyfriend, while Cas took the food with a shy smile.

Dean only looked away when the stranger nudged him. “Lucky bastard.” He mumbled as he walked away.

And yeah.

“Dean, come in already!”

Yeah, I am!

Pero también es un pinche cobarde.

[heyyy-hey-babyyy]

When We Were Young (part VII)

Dean x Fem!Reader; Sam x Fem!Reader (platonic)

Read part I here ; Read part II here ; Read part III here ;

Read part IV here ; Read part V here ; Read part VI here

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of trauma/abuse, brief moments of self-harm, mentions of anxiety attack, *moments of assault*

**This chapter contains images of assault. Please be aware if this is trigging for you!

B/N: I’m getting a little lost in my own timeline, so apologies for any inaccuracies... All mistakes I claim as my own. 

2164 words

Summary: Dean, Sam, and Y/N grew up together, but when she’s taken away for over 10 years, the boys have no idea what she’s been through. Will asking her to move into the bunker with them reveal more than she’s ready for?

You could feel Dean crouched in front of you, and could see his lips moving as he spoke, but everything was moving in slow motion and the words weren’t reaching your ears. Standing quickly, Dean didn’t have time to reach for you as you excited the house as fast as you could. You needed air.  

Dean stood again, wearing the same shocked look as Sam and Bobby. But he didn’t follow you, giving you space for a moment. 

“Did she just say that was Greg?” Sam asked quietly, moving to stand next to his brother. You had just exited the house, the screen door slamming shut behind you. “The same Greg she emptied a gun into almost fifteen years ago?” 

“Yeah,” Dean grunted out, weighing his options. He knew you were upset with him for his outburst back at the bunker and he didn’t want to push you away further, so instead he turned toward Bobby trying to figure out their next move. 

“One of you boys gonna fill me in on what all that was?” Sam scrubbed a hand down his face, knowing this wasn’t his or Dean’s story to tell, but he definitely was not about to dive into the specifics of Y/N’s life in foster care. Especially not when Bobby was glaring at both him and Dean like he was. Like a protective father.

Dean cleared his throat loudly, before speaking. “Something bad happened to her, Bobby, when she was in foster care...” Dean trailed off, measuring his words. “And the guy that did it is supposed to be dead. I guess he isn’t as human as she initially thought...” He trailed off again, glancing toward the front of the house. He squeezed Sam’s arm once, knowing he would speak more with Bobby, before heading outside with a quick, “she shouldn’t be alone.” The two men nodded in agreement and Dean headed toward the front door, intent on keeping you close to him from here on out. 

-----------

You weren’t planning on going anywhere after rushing out of the house. You just needed some quick air, and plopped yourself down on the hood of the Impala once you were out the door. Dean would be pissed that you were scuffing up baby’s hood, but you didn’t care at the moment, and he’d forgive you. 

You laid back against the cool hood, losing yourself in your thoughts. How could he possibly be alive? And why come after you now? 

You didn’t want to think too far into the situation, afraid you would have to live through those long nights shaking in your bed again, so you tried your best to separate that life from the one you were trying to lead now, the biggest different of course being Dean. It didn’t seem to be a huge coincidence that the darkest moments of your life were when you were miles away from Dean and Sam Winchester. The thought made you smile to yourself despite what was going on. 

You were so caught in your own head that you didn’t feel the hand grasp tightly around your ankle and drag you from the Impala’s smooth hood, slamming your head on the bumper on the way down, making your world go black. 

-----------

“Y/N, listen,” Dean started walking across the patio toward the Impala figuring you would be close by. He glanced around quickly when he didn’t see you leaning up against the car’s smooth hood like he expected. 

“Y/N” He called loudly, cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice. Maybe you had walked down the aisle of cars. You couldn’t have gone too far, he thought to himself, it had only been minutes since you walked through the front door. 

Dean walked swiftly down the first row of immovable cars, turning the corner to glance down the next, and the next, and the next, not seeing any sign of you. 

“Y/N!” Dean shouted again, running down the last few rows and back up toward the house, beginning to panic. 

Sam and Bobby heard his last shout and were clamoring out the door toward him, fear written across their faces. 

“What’s going on?” Sam asked anxiously. Dean shook his head, running his fingers through his short hair in frustration. 

“She’s not out here!” He finally called out at the two men, who swiftly turned and rushed back into the office, preparing to pull up the security footage again. Dean followed, pacing the floor anxiously while Bobby slowly pulled up the salvage yard’s security tapes.

Sam was trying to calm his brother with constant mantra’s of ‘it’s gonna be okay’ and ‘we’ll find her,’ but Dean wasn’t having any of it, swiping Sam’s hand away when he placed it on his shoulder.

“Come on, Bobby, we don’t have all day!”

Bobby glared at Dean again, hard, reminding the older Winchester of his place. Dean shut his mouth but continued pacing, avoiding his brother’s gaze.

“Alright,” Bobby started, snapping Dean to attention. “it’s starting. Looks like Y/N was just sitting on the hood of the Impala after she walked out.” Dean rushed to Bobby’s side and glanced down at the security footage, hiding a small smile when he saw you sprawled out on the hood, exactly like he knew you would be. He kept watching when suddenly the footage went all garbled and they couldn’t make any sense of what was happening. The tape fixed itself and Y/N was gone, the Impala’s hood barren.

“Dammit!” Dean roared, knowing that Greg must have messed with the security tapes. Bobby slammed the laptop closed, muttering to himself, while Sam went back to mother-hening Dean.

“Sam!” Dean shouted, warning his brother. “Get. away. from me.” Sam huffed out a sigh in response, knowing nothing was going to get through to his brother until Y/N was back by his side safe. The three men did nothing for a few seconds but stare blankly around the room, desperate for any answer to appear out of thin air. Dean startled them all when he screamed out, “where is she!?”

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

When you woke you, the lingering smell of rain and dead bodies hit you like a freight train, and you decided to try to trigger your hunter senses before you opened your eyes and gave away your present status. You hadn’t hunted in over a year, promising Sam and Dean that you were more comfortable with research, when in reality you didn’t trust your own abilities anymore. You didn’t trust yourself with many things lately.

You started your investigation with your own body. You didn’t feel drugged or anything, just tired from the fall, and your back ached a little. Attempting to move your arms you realized they were chained above your head and you were on your knees, jeans soaking up the horrible smelling water beneath you. Wincing you decided to open your eyes, hoping that whoever this was wasn’t around at the present moment. You weren’t delusional enough to think that this could be anything other than Greg, but you hoped that perhaps some sort of monster followed you and the Winchesters to Bobby’s. But your hoping was in vain, as you slowly opened your eyes and came face to face with a larger and older version of the kid who ruined your life. 

When he saw you open your eyes and look into his, he offered you his wolf grin, before you avoided his gaze quickly. 

“Y/N.” His tone was even and you could tell he was still smiling. Though his voice had dropped an octave or so, it sent a chill through your body. You weren’t the most skilled hunter, but in your current predicament, even the newest hunters would be jumping into some kind of game plan and playing off of their adrenaline and anger. You felt yourself shrinking into yourself, hoping you could simply disappear. As always, Greg never sensed any discomfort from you, and continued talking like nothing was wrong. 

“It’s so good to see you!” He didn’t touch you, but the way he was coming toward you had you cowering back into the corner as far away from him as the chains would allow. 

He clicked his tongue at your movement, “Ah. I see.” You glanced up at him as he spoke, following his movements. He knelt down in front of you, and you couldn’t lower your head any further to get away from him. “I’m not mad, Y/N.” He said simply, using a gentle tone, one that you recognized. Long ago you stopped falling for the gentleness knowing that what was to follow wasn’t going to be nice and gentle. 

He stood suddenly making you jump, walking slowly around the room as he thought. “I know you did what you needed to do, and I’m not mad... I just wish you would have stuck around a bit for the real fun.” The wolf smile was back and you shuddered, imagining his bloody body rising before your eyes after you thought you had killed him.

He was turned toward you, and clicked his tongue again when you refused to look at him. Kneeling down he snaked a finger toward you, smiling when he reached your chin and was able to tilt your head back so that you were forced to look into his eyes. 

“It’s okay, hunny...” You shuddered when he used the nickname he used to use for you, often referring to you as his little ‘hunny-bear.’ The foster agency and your foster parents thought it was so cute.

“We have plenty of time for you to make it up to me.” 

Quickly the single finger under your chin, became his entire hand gripping the back of your neck, and he pulled your forward, the chains attached to your arms clinking behind you. He held you steady in front of him, while he roughly pushed his lips to yours. You kept your face stoic, refusing to react to his assault of your lips, and you felt a growl building deep in his chest. When your lips didn’t react against his, he pressed his hand against your cheek, pressing down on the sensitive skin and forcing your mouth to open. He took your bottom lip between his teeth biting hard enough to draw blood. You tasted the salt on your tongue, wincing as the blood seeped into your mouth. 

Greg pulled back, releasing your face, his wolf smile revealing dark crimson teeth, your own blood staining his lips. He stood to his full height and raked his eyes up and down your body. 

“Oh hunny-bear, you have definitely filled out. Damn!” You flinched at the volume of his words, but he ignored you. “You turned into quite a looker.” He tsked his tongue continuing to look you up and down. “But why do you hide behind all of these baggy clothes!?” He suddenly sounded angry, and you realized you were wearing one of Dean’s flannels, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and buttoned all the way to the top. 

“That definitely won’t do.” He spit out, walking toward you again, and beginning to undo the buttons, slowly, as if he were trying to ‘set the mood.’ As each button brought him closer to your chest and stomach, you felt your abs clenching, feeling like you might vomit on him at any moment. 

Once he finished the buttons, you heard him wolf-whistle realizing you were only wearing a plain black bralette underneath the heavy material, the lace and fabric not leaving much to the imagination. You felt tears sting your eyes, imagining happier times on your way to South Dakota when you simply threw on one of Dean’s flannels to be more comfortable on the drive, while the boys were inside at the gas station. The fabric was soft and long and smelled like Dean, so you didn’t bother putting anything under it. You never imagined you’d be in this situation. 

Greg continued to look you up and down and you let the tears fall freely. Someone please save me! 

----------

The Winchesters and Bobby had been sitting at their individual laptops looking for any clues of where you might be. They figured the shifter was probably moving on foot, so he couldn’t have gone too far in the time that Y/N went outside and they tore apart the salvage yard looking for you. Dean jumped into the Impala after the security footage turned out to be a bust, and drove damn near across South Dakota looking for any sign of you. 

Sam sighed loudly, taking a huge drink from the crappy gas station coffee, Dean grabbed before heading back to the house, knowing they needed be alert.

“Dean, I think it’s time you called Cas...” Dean nodded once. It had been almost 6 hours since you were taken and every minute that passed had Dean screaming on the inside, desperate to find you. 

Taking a deep breath, he put his hands together in prayer, muttering for Castiel, angel of the Lord, to get his feathery ass down here. That they needed him. Throwing in a ‘please’ for good measure. 

Dean opened his eyes when he heard the rustling that could only be the blue-eyed, trenchcoat clad Angel. 

“Hello, Dean.” 

When We Were Young Tag List: @vicmc624 @woundedxsmile @akshi8278

Read part VIII here

[milfjensenackles]

devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes

2k words | read it on ao3

Cas and Sam sat together in the War Room, attempting to drown out Dean’s screams with tense bursts of conversation.

Sam located Dean a few days ago after discovering that Crowley turned him into a demon. Dean was less than happy to leave Crowley behind for the bunker, so Sam ended up knocking him out and carrying Dean’s limp body to the Impala. Once he’d collected his brother, he called Cas for help. Cas was pissed, to say the least.

“How could you let this happen to him, Sam?”

Sam placed his head in his hands. “I thought he was dead!”

Cas folded his arms across his chest, still angry. He wasn’t really angry at Sam, though. He was angry at himself for not stopping Dean from taking on the Mark of Cain in the first place. All of this could have been prevented.

“Cas, I think the demon cure might kill him.” Sam said, choking up at the thought. “There has to be another way.”

Cas felt a chill run down his spine. Sam was right. “There is… one thing I can think of, but it’s very old magic. There’s no way to know if it would actually work.”

“Well? Spit it out!” Sam was becoming increasingly frustrated.

“True love’s kiss,” Cas said tentatively.

Sam’s eyes narrowed, his face incredulous at the suggestion. “There’s no way that’s actually a thing. And even if it was, who would Dean’s ‘True Love’ even be? Cassie? Lisa?”

Cas shrugged. “I hardly think it could be Lisa, Sam. Dean had me erase her memory.”

Sam huffed at that. Dean hadn’t been romantically interested in anyone in years. He barely even tried to pick up women at the bars they stumbled into after their more difficult cases. Dean hasn’t had a long-term relationship… pretty much ever. The only people he has a consistent relationship with are Sam and his best friend… Cas.

“Cas,” Sam said quietly, “What if… what if you’re Dean’s true love?”

Cas was stunned into silence. There’s no way it could be him. At the very least, Cas knew Dean wasn’t attracted to men. “Sam…”

Sam cut him off. “No, wait a second. Hear me out. You two have been through literal Hell and back for each other. You’re always obnoxiously staring at each other – and don’t try to deny it, I see the way you look at him. You care about Dean more than all of those angels. More than most other humans. You refused to kill Dean, even if it meant losing their support. Does all of this ring a bell?”

Cas was staring off into space, his lips pressed into a thin line. Sam was more observant than Cas had realized. Cas has known about his feelings for Dean for quite some time now. He still had trouble understanding them, though. Sometimes it was overwhelming, how much he cared for Dean. It felt like he might split open with the weight of his desire. Angels weren’t supposed to feel that way, especially about a human, so Cas pushed it away. A problem for another day. He supposed today was that day. Cas shook his head. “What about you? You are his brother. Maybe a kiss on the cheek from you would suffice.”

Sam tossed the idea around in his head before nodding. “Okay. We’ll try that first. But Cas, I’m serious. We’re running out of options here.”

Cas grimaced, but slowly nodded in agreement.

-

Sam and Cas made their way to Dean, prepared for the worst. What they weren’t prepared for, however, was an empty room, with Dean’s chair kicked over and his restraints undone. Sam and Cas looked at each other, mouths open in an ‘O’ shape.

“Fuck,” Cas swore.

Sam nodded. “Agreed.”

Cas and Sam split up, covering each corner of the bunker to try to sneak up on Dean. Cas ended up in a back hallway, praying to whatever might be listening that Dean was still in the bunker. As Cas rounded a corner, his prayers seemed to have been answered, as he runs right into Dean’s chest. The last thing Cas sees is blackened eyes before he’s slammed up against a hard surface.

Dean smirked at Cas. “Aw, the little angel thought he might stand a chance against me. That’s cute.” Dean slid the angel blade out from Cas’ hands, which were pressed above Castiel’s head now. Dean leaned in, only a millimeter from Cas’ face. Cas looked from side to side, hoping to find something that might help him out of his unfortunate position, but Dean had Cas pinned against the wall. Cas was out of options. He had to at least try, didn’t he? For Dean. Cas mustered all of his strength and pressed forward, attaching his mouth to Dean’s. It was clinical, almost. A simple press of lips. And then as soon as the kiss had started, it was abruptly ended by Dean pushing Cas off of him.

Cas slid to the floor, relief flooding him. Cas looked up at Dean. Dean had his hands pressed to his knees as he leaned against the opposite wall. He looked down at Cas, seemingly bewildered. “What just happened?”

Cas’ eyes widened. “Dean?”

“Hey, Cas. Why do I feel like I just got the shit kicked out of me? How did we get here? Why are you on the floor?” Dean reached out to help Cas to his feet.

Cas was speechless. He floundered for a moment, looking for the right words, before deciding to turn away and walk down the hallway, leaving a confused Dean behind him.

-

There was a knock at Cas’ door. He stiffened immediately, not looking forward to a conversation with either Winchester brother. Sam stuck his head in. “Were you gonna tell me you figured out how to fix Dean? He just walked up to me and asked about getting some pie and I almost fell out of my chair.”

Cas sighed. “My apologies, Sam.”

Sam moved to sit next to Cas on the bed, waving away Cas’ apology. “Whatever, dude. How’d you do it? Was it a spell?”

Cas debated his answer in his mind. If he told Sam, Sam might tell Dean, which would be humiliating. If he didn’t tell Sam, Sam would become suspicious of him. Before Cas could respond though, Sam took his silence as all the answer he needed. His face lit up with understanding. “You didn’t.”

Cas held his hands up in an attempt to stop Sam from saying anything more damning. “Sam, please. I don’t want Dean to find out.”

Sam looked confused, his eyebrows scrunching together. “Why not? This is incredible! You two obviously both have feelings for each other. Now you can go for it!”

Cas rolled his eyes. “I cannot simply ‘go for it’, Sam. I took advantage of Dean during a moment of weakness. He has no idea that I was the one who saved him, or how I managed to save him. It should stay that way. I don’t want to ruin our relationship. It’s Dean. He means too much to me to lose him.”

Sam seemed to ponder this information for a moment, before saying, “I think that’s all the more reason to tell him the truth.”

With that, Sam left Cas alone to his thoughts.

-

A few days, Cas was sitting in the kitchen with Sam when Dean rambled in, hair mussed and eyes bloodshot. Cas gave Dean a small smile, which Dean noticed and returned immediately. Cas had been avoiding Dean for the past few days, but luckily Dean didn’t seem to notice.

“How are you, Dean?” Cas asked.

Dean sighed. “Still not a hundred percent, but that’ll happen with demon possession.”

Dean winked at him. Cas felt his heartrate increase, the memory of their brief kiss still haunting him. Sam looked between his brother and Cas, a knowing smile on his face. Cas gave him a warning glare. Unfortunately for Cas, Dean saw this exchange. He pointed an accusatory finger between the two of them. “Are you guys fighting?”

Right as Cas said “No!”, Sam interjected with a louder “Yes, actually.” They both turned to glare at each other again.

Sam held up his hand to stop Cas from saying anything else, before leaning toward Dean to explain. “Cas and I had a… disagreement yesterday.”

Dean sat down across from the two of them. “Lay it on me.”

Cas tried to interrupt, giving Sam a pointed look. “Dean, you don’t want to listen to this. You’re still exhausted.”

“No, Cas, I think it would be good to get Dean’s perspective,” Sam smirked. “So get this, Dean. Cas here did something to a friend who needed his help. This friend might not have survived without Cas stepping in. Cas won’t tell this friend though! I think Cas should tell him. What do you think?”

Cas was furious with Sam and let him know with a single look. Sam looked slightly admonished, which satisfied Cas. Dean, however, was ignoring all of this to ponder what Sam had said. “I think you should let your friend know, buddy. They’d probably appreciate it.”

Sam clapped his hand on Cas’ shoulder, standing up from the table. “See, there you have it, Cas! I’ll leave you two to it.”

“What friends do you got that I don’t know?” Dean asked once Sam was out of earshot.

“None,” Cas responded through gritted teeth.

Dean scrunched his eyebrows together like he was doing mental math that didn’t quite add up. Cas could only imagine it: ‘If 1 + 1 =3, then Sam must be talking about Dean.’ This was the worst day of his very long life. Finally, after many excruciating moments, Dean spoke up again. “Was Sam talking about me?”

Cas rolled his eyes. “Yes, Dean.”

“Is that why you’ve been so cagey about the whole demon thing lately? What did you do? Should I be concerned about some weird angel mojo thing goin’ on inside me?”

Cas sighed. “No, Dean,” He scrubbed his hand down his face. “Sam and I were running out of ideas. We had to save you. I knew of only one way to do so. It is known as ‘True Love’s Kiss’. We were going to have Sam try it out by kissing your cheek, but you escaped. You located me first. I thought you might kill me, so… I had to try, Dean. I hope you can forgive me.”

Dean stood up abruptly, shocked by the information he’d just received. Cas didn’t know what to do, so he stayed seated, uncomfortably waiting for Dean to react. Dean walked over to where Cas was seated, staring at him with a complicated look on his face. Cas couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He didn’t have time to wonder, though, because Dean fisted his palm into the lapel of Cas’ trenchcoat and pulled him out of his chair, covering Cas’ mouth with his own. Cas immediately responded in kind, his hands moving to run through Dean’s hair. Dean’s tongue swiped across Cas’ bottom lip, and Cas gasped, which allowed Dean to better explore him. Dean’s hands travelled down Cas’ sides to his hips and pulled Cas closer. Cas moaned, and Dean swallowed the sound greedily. After what felt like hours, Cas forced himself to pull away and press their foreheads together, both of them breathing heavily.

Cas noticed Dean’s shoulders shaking, and he immediately realized that Dean was laughing. Cas was bewildered. “What’s so funny?”

Dean took a deep breath, trying to control himself. “So… you’re my ‘True Love’, huh? It’s like that fairytale garbage. We’ve been such idiots. All it took was me becoming a demon to figure it out.”

Cas smiled. “You’re the idiot in this relationship.”

Dean raised his eyebrows and said, “Oh, is that so?” before leaning in again, capturing Cas in another kiss that they both grinned into. Cas was overwhelmed. He never thought, in a million years, that this was how their story would come together. Cas still had a lot to learn about being in a relationship, and he knew Dean didn’t have much experience with it either. He understood now, though, that they had plenty of time to figure it out, and his best friend would be at his side through it all.

[fishingforyolos]

That Awkward Moment When...

What if Dean got Castiel back from the Empty, and DIDN’T confess his love right away? What if instead, Dean and Cas just...didn’t know how to bring it up to one another, and forced Sam to endure the most intense third-wheel moment that he’s ever experienced, while these two emotionally constipated dumbasses sat in awkward silence?

This is here to answer that question.

________________________________________

Ahem.

It was the fourth time within two minutes that Dean had cleared his throat, and pretended to look out the window.

Sam was counting, now, in a desperate bid to distract from the incredible, palpable awkward silence emanating from the front seat of the car.

He had given Cas the front as a KIND gesture. He was being nice! It was only FAIR that the guy who had just escaped from super mega turbohell got to have a free pass at riding shotgun.

Or, so he thought. When he sidled into the backseat an hour ago, he did not anticipate the absolutely lethal levels of weird that Cas and Dean would be radiating—all pretending not to look at each other, conspicuous rubbing of the back of their necks, and god DAMN it Dean was fake-looking out the window AGAIN! There was nothing out there but corn, Dean!! Corn for miles!!!

Sam sat back and groaned. This was one of the most intolerable hours that he had ever witnessed in this godforsaken car, and that was saying something.

He allowed himself to drift off into his thoughts, letting his analytical side take over. Whatever it was, it probably happened in the bunker, right before Cas was taken by the Empty. Dean had been very...vague, about that situation, which only made Sam all the more curious. What could they have SAID to each other? Sam was no stranger to having a tense relationship with Castiel, but...if they were mad at each other, they’d be doing that stupid stony-faced silent treatment. But no, they both seemed too full of nervous energy. Cas was currently rifling through the glovebox, of all goddamn things, and Dean was toggling the blinker back and forth on a two-lane highway.

Click, click. Click, click. Click, click.

“Are these...salted?” asked Castiel, holding up a box of bullets as if they were a sale item at Costco.

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” said Dean taking a quick glance, “We bought those for the uh...for the ghosts.”

“I see,” said Castiel, nodding for just a bit too long.

Click, click. Click, click. Click, click.

Sam scrubbed his face with his hands. He had been to hell before, but listening to bad small talk was its own special kind of hell. What happened in that bunker room that would make them behave like-

Like-

Sam’s mouth fell open.

Like the awkward morning after.

“Oh, my God,” Sam blurted, before he could stop himself, “Did-did you two have a one-night stand?”

Castiel dropped the box of bullets.

Dean choked on nothing.

“Sam, what the HELL?!” he coughed.

“Well, SORRY,” Sam said, in a way that he hoped conveyed how NOT sorry he was, “But you guys are acting, uhhh, really weird, and I thought maybe, I dunno-”

He shrugged, and held his hands up in defense against Dean’s murderous glare, “I thought maybe you hooked up! Y’know, last night on earth style!”

“Wha-no. No, no, no,” Dean said again, gesturing forcefully with one hand before pointing directly at Sam, “That’s-that’s not what happened in there.”

“Indeed,” Castiel murmured lowly, throwing a glance to the backseat, “I can assure you, it was worse.”

Dean nearly swerved off the road.

Sam’s jaw fell open again, eyes flicking from Dean to Cas. “W-WORSE?!”

“Oh my FUCKING god,” Dean whispered into the steering wheel.

“What I mean is, it was more...personally humiliating. To me,” Castiel clarified.

Sam blinked several times, trying to process this new bit of information. 

“But I thought...you said, that the Empty's deal was about you experiencing happiness,” Sam said, shifting back into analytical mode, “Does it make an...exception, for humiliation?”

He sat back and grimaced, as he weighed the horrible possibility in his mind. “Is it into that??”

“W-well,” stuttered Castiel, his gravelly voice betraying his discomfort, “Regardless of the...preferences, sexual or otherwise, of the Empty-”

Dean suddenly slammed the steering wheel with his palm.

“Can you two PLEASE, shut up?!” he roared, “And let me fucking DRIVE in PEACE?!”

Sam and Cas fell silent, the atmosphere of the Impala even more tense than before.

Sam put his head in his hands. God, he should have just kept his mouth shut. Or maybe, he should have just taken shotgun in the first place, and stuck Cas in the back. Would've saved everyone all this trouble, maybe.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel said, finally breaking the silence.

Sam pursed his lips in annoyance. He could already tell, simply by the look on Cas’ face, that this was going to be another heart-to-heart where they completely forgot he existed. 

Dean, meanwhile, didn’t react.

“I…” Castiel sighed, “I don’t...mean to make things awkward, it’s just that I didn’t-I never expected to SEE you again.”

“Really, Cas?” Dean exploded, “Really? After all we’ve been through, after all the times we’ve dragged each other out of the clutches of-of Hell, Heaven, you name it, you didn’t-you didn’t even consider the POSSIBILITY that we’d get you out?”

“Of course I considered it,” Castiel said quietly, “It was my most desperate desire."

He sat back, and turned to direct his gaze out the window.

“But there is a sort of...freedom, in confessing directly before death,” Castiel said, speaking a fog onto the window with each word, “All the vulnerability...none of the consequences.”

Sam’s eyes flew wide open as it all finally clicked. 

No way. No way. NO WAY.

He shot up straight, incredulity plastered across his face that the other two were too preoccupied to notice.

DId Castiel...confess his feelings in that bunker? Make a move? Shoot his shot? And then DIE?! 

What the fuck, Cas?

Sam sat back, reeling, running his fingers through his hair as Dean and Cas continued to stare out separate windows. He quite literally didn’t think he would LIVE to see the day that they acknowledged their...thing, and now they were doing it right in front of his eyes.

“I...I meant what I said, Dean,” Castiel said, fixing Dean’s profile with a longing stare, “Every single word. And I still do.”

Sam turned back toward Dean, hunched defensively over the wheel of the Impala. He still wouldn’t look at Cas. 

Please, Sam prayed silently, Don’t fuck this up.

“But, I’m acutely aware that it made things different between us,” Castiel sighed, “And I’m sorry for that. I can’t take it back. However-”

“I love you.”

If he wasn’t literally watching Dean’s mouth move as he said it, Sam wouldn’t have believed his ears. Holy shit.

He whipped his head back to Castiel, who was stopped in his tracks like a deer in headlights.

Even the rain, beating against the windshield at 70 miles an hour, didn’t dare interrupt the moment at hand.

Dean was still staring out at the road, hands gripping the wheel like he was clinging to sanity itself.

“You didn’t let me say it back,” Dean said through gritted teeth, “In the bunker, you just-you dropped that on me, and then you were GONE, and you didn’t even let me say it back.”

Sam’s mouth was agape once again, eyes flicking back and forth between his brother and the equally speechless angel. The air between them was charged, and ready for a lightning strike.

“W-when you say that,” Castiel said, after a solid ten seconds of trying to find his voice, “Do you-do you mean it-”

Dean DID swerve off the road this time, sending Sam sprawling across the backseat as he skidded to a stop on the shoulder.

“Ow! Dean, what the-”

“Yeah, Castiel,” Dean said, finally taking his eyes off the road to fix him with a wild look, “I mean it. Same way you did. When you said that-that the one thing you wanted, you couldn’t have, it-it didn’t make any sense, because I always thought that I was the one wanting what I couldn’t-who I couldn't-”

He sniffled.

“Fuck, I didn’t want to do this in the CAR,” Dean said, wiping his eyes, “Not in front of Sammy.”

“Honestly? I prefer this over the past miserable hour,” Sam said, leaning back, “Do what you gotta do, man. Just...pretend I’m not here.”

Dean actually chuckled at that, but turned his attention back to Cas, who was still blinking in shock.

“Cas, you...you gotta understand,” Dean said carefully, reaching across the seat and cupping Cas’ cheek in a hand, “Come hell or high water, you have me.”

He swallowed hard. “You don’t have to...to want, I-I’m yours, a-already in the bag. Got it?”

Tears tracked down Castiel’s face as he nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, trying unsuccessfully to stop a wide, tearful smile from spreading across his face.

Dean visibly softened, and brought Castiel’s face in, kissing him right on the mouth.

Sam hoped he wouldn't come to regret the "do what you gotta do" comment, but they broke apart just a moment later to touch foreheads like a couple of saps.

“...Yaaay, congratulations!” Sam said, waving celebratory arms in the air as widely as he could in the cramped backseat. He searched around him and found some crumpled receipts, which he tossed into the front seat. “Whoo! Confetti!”

“Sam…” Dean said, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

“I appreciate your jubilation, Sam,” Castiel said, dead seriously, looking back at him with just his eyes, “Your approval means a lot to me.”

"Hey,” Sam said, clapping Castiel on the shoulder, “This changes nothing. You're still like a brother to me, man. You’re still family." 

Cas smiled at him. “Thank you, Sam.”

“Aww, look at that smile, Sammy,” Dean said, tapping Cas on the cheek, “Look at it! How could anybody resist that smile?”

“I dunno, Dean, it’s pretty easy when you’re not in love with him,” Sam smiled.

“Welp,” shrugged Dean casually, as he shifted the car back into drive, “Guess I wouldn’t know, then.”

Sam was taken aback by the...ease, with which all that just rolled off of Dean’s tongue. 

“God,” Sam groaned, “You’re going to be an INSUFFERABLE couple.”

Dean just laughed, light and loud, as he merged back onto the highway, offering out his right hand.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Castiel said, taking the offered hand with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes, "But as you can see, I cannot resist his charm."

Sam rolled his eyes at that, but he couldn’t keep the grin off his face. It was insufferable, yes, and Sam was going to have to have a LONG talk with Dean later, but...for now, he just laughed, as the tension bled out of the car, and Dean FINALLY turned on the stereo, letting the soothing sound of Led Zeppelin carry them into a lighter mood.

Sam took a deep breath, and let it out slow. Maybe sometimes, good things do happen.

[gamergirl929]

I’d Take A Bullet For You (Kellex x Reader)

Anonymous Request: Love ur USWNT writings, how about one when the team is like walking back to the hotel after dinner one night and a man tries to mug mamas Kellex and pulls a gun on them and shoots one of them but baby r jumps in front of the bullet?

T.W: violence and blood

It happened so fast, so fast in fact that you weren’t entirely sure what was happening at first, you only knew that the man before you was intent on hurting one of you in an effort to get what he wanted.  

“Give me your fucking money, don’t make me ask you again.” He snarls, pointing his gun at Alex’s chest the taller woman holding her trembling hands in the air, Kelley doing the same at her side, her brown orbs darting to you.  

The sheer shock of the scene before you made every one of you freeze, which, unfortunately for you, made the man’s ire only grow, so much so that he squeezed the trigger.  

You know there’s no going back when you shove Alex and Kelley out of the way, the two women landing roughly on the sidewalk, but you didn’t care, all that mattered was getting them out of the line of fire... But doing so put you IN to it.

You glance down, eyes wide as you stare at the bleeding hole in your stomach, a hole that was immediately covered by a pale hand.  

“Hold on, it’s okay, you’re okay.” You hear Alex coo in your ear and you swallow hard, dropping to your knees.  

The man with the gun had sprinted off, but he was the least of your and the USWNT veteran’s worries, the two women more concerned with the gaping hole in your chest.  

Your breath shudders when a blood covered hand settles on your cheek.  

“It’s okay, we got you. We’ve got you Y/N.” Kelley whispers, tears running down her cheeks.  

You briefly realize that Alex must have called the police because you can hear her screaming, begging for help that you so desperately need.  

Alex pulls your head into her lap and your brow furrows.  

“I couldn’t let him hurt you.” You rasp, your eyelids drooping tiredly.  

Alex shakes her head, tears leaking from her blue orbs and dropping down onto you as she leans her head down her lips against your forehead.  

“I’m going to fix this, we’ll fix this, you’re going to be okay. I promise.” Alex rocks back and forth.  

“This is going to hurt, but it’ll help, I promise.” Kelley whispers pressing something hard against your chest, causing you to cry out in pain.  

“Shhh.” Alex kisses your forehead, her bottom lip trembling.  

The distinct sound of sirens pierces your ears and it’s then you realize just how tired you are, black spots dotting your vision.  

“I’m sorry...” You whisper, voice slurring and Alex shakes her head, Kelley ducking down to lean her head against Alex’s.  

“Don’t be sorry, just hold on okay?” Kelley sniffs sadly.  

“Please.” Alex begs, but inevitably your eyes flutter shut, the last thing you hear being the hoarse, watery voices of the two women above you.  

                                                            ***

Alex and Kelley were silent, tears streaming down their faces as they stared at the wall in front of them, their shirts covered in blood, your blood.  

“Oh my god.”  

The door to the waiting room flies open, the women’s USWNT teammates rushing inside and surrounding the two women.  

"Look at me.”  

Through Alex’s blurred vision she sees Tobin Heath, knelt before her, her hands on her cheeks.  

“It’s okay.” She nods, brown orbs shining with tears and Alex shakes her head.  

“No, it’s not... We were supposed to protect her and we...”

Alex lets out an inhuman cry, the sound breaking Kelley from her trance, the defender throwing her arms around her girlfriend as the two of them sob, their teammates in tears as well.  

“Where’s Y/N...? What happened...?” Christen asks and Alex swallows hard.  

“Surgery... We... We were headed back from dinner... He wanted money...” Alex mumbles sadly, hiding her nose in Kelley’s neck.  

The defender cups her cheek turning to rest her forehead against the forwards.  

“She’ll be okay she has to be... I mean she has to be. She has to be okay. She has to be.” Kelley rambles, sniffling as she rocks back and forth, her arms wrapped around her girlfriend.  

The room is dead silent, teammates huddled around in groups as they sob, the veterans off the team huddled together.  

You were the baby of the team, and when someone hurt you, it hurt them...  

But this wasn’t an injury on the field, this wasn’t an injury a bag of ice could fix... This was something that could kill you, something they couldn’t fix.  

Ashlyn closes her eyes tight, her wife sitting between her legs on the floor, sobbing into the goalie’s shirt.  

Christen and Tobin are a few feet away along with the other veterans, their arms wrapped around a number of the younger players, players who had quickly become your best friends.  

It’s when the door opens that the room goes silent, everyone turning to look at the foreign invader, who happens to be a doctor in blue scrubs.  

“Y/N?” He asks, eyes darting to the two women whose shirts are still covered in blood.  

Alex and Kelley jump to their feet, rushing the man.  

“Is she okay?” Kelley asks, taking Alex’s hand, not caring that the woman’s hand is still covered in your dried blood.  

“She’s in stable condition... She isn’t out of the woods, but the prognosis looks good.” He smiles and Kelley turns, burying her face in Alex’s chest.  

“Can we see her...? Please?” Alex begs as she tightens her hold on the defender.

Vlatko slips into the room passed the doctor, his arm slipping around Kelley and Alex.  

“Please.” He asks, his eyes locked with the doctor’s, it’s only moments before he relents, nodding.  

“Follow me.”  

                                                            ***

The room is silent, except for the beeping machine beside you and the sound of the ventilator that’s shoved down your throat, aiding in your breathing.  

Alex drops to her knees beside the bed, her forehead resting against the scratchy blanket covering you.  

“Why you...?” She whispers under her breath, Kelley moving to kneel down beside her a hand resting on her back, she too resting her head on the bed beside Alex’s.  

“We’re not leaving her.” Alex glares over her shoulder at the doctor, tears streaming down her cheeks.  

The doctor opens his mouth to deny her request, but one look into her blue, tear filled eyes he knows she’s not leave, a number of the other player in the group are quick to agree.  

He gives them a nod.  

“Okay, okay some of you can stay.”  

In less than 5 minutes the group talks the doctor into allowing each and every one of them to stay, going so far as to bring in a number of couches for them to sleep on, while of course, keeping a path to your bed clear.  

Everyone who will be coming to your room is informed of who those in the room are and that no one is to complain about the number of individuals in the room, most are honestly fearful considering there are a number of women in the room who could literally snap them in half.  

The veterans surround the bed, the other members of the team spread out around the room, younger members as close to the bed as they can be.  

Alex and Kelley have yet to at all leave the room, besides going to the bathroom to eventually rid their skin of your dried blood and change their blood covered clothes, but literally minutes after they were back beside your bed, their hands covering your own.

“She has to wake up.” Sonnett whispers, her arms wrapped around Lindsey who nods.  

“She has to.”  

Rose smiles.  

“Who else would we scare?” She lets out a watery laugh, Sam and Mallory grinning.  

“Remember when we hid in the shower? Scared her so bad.” Mallory giggles, the veterans even getting a small laugh.  

Alex laughs, a tear rolling down her cheek. She cups your cheek, running the pad of her thumb along your skin.  

“You have to be around to make more memories like that...” She whispers, the other players turning towards her.  

“So, you have to wake up, okay?” She whispers, more tears rolling down her cheeks.  

On the other side of the bed, Christen, Tobin, Ali and Ashlyn are looking down at you sadly, their hands resting on the flesh of your arm.  

“She will.” Christen whispers, gently stroking your arm.  

“She has to.” Ali nods, her bottom lip trembling.  

Meanwhile, you’re still unmoving in bed, fast asleep, but soon you’d be awake and reunited with not only your family, but your team.  

                                                            ***

Somehow, the entire team drifts to sleep from exhaustion more than anything, but hours later they wake to an insistent beeping.  

Alex and Kelley spring to their feet, eyes wide when they realize that a number of doctors and nurses have rushed in, pushing your teammates back to surround the bed.  

“Can you hear me Y/N?” The doctor asks, it’s then with wide eyes that Alex realizes, you nod.  

“Y/N?” She whispers and you glance around, mumbling, though you can’t really be understood thanks to the tube in your throat.  

“Let’s get that out honey.” One of the nurses whispers, as the doctor removes the tube from your throat causing you to cough softly, face scrunching up in pain.  

The second even a sliver of space is made, Alex and Kelley push their way towards the bed, the nurses stepping back to allow them to see their fallen comrade.  

“There she is.” Kelley whispers, gently cupping your cheek and you smile tiredly. 

“You’re alright.” You whisper and Alex grins, ducking her head to kiss your forehead.  

“Of course, we are...” She whispers against your forehead, kissing it again.  

“I didn’t know if I stopped him.” You mumble tiredly and Kelley shakes her head, placing her hand on your chest, over your heart.  

“You did. You did.” She whispers and you smile tiredly.  

“I would’ve done anything to keep you safe.” You whisper and Alex shakes her head.  

“We’re the ones who’re supposed to protect you.” She strokes your cheek and you smile, your body heating up from the medicine you hadn’t realize the doctor had increased.  

“You’re the baby after all.” Kelley whispers and your tired eyes crack open, just enough that they can see you rolling them.  

“I’m not the baby.” You mumble and everyone scoffs, you glaring around the room.

“Oh, you’re the baby sweetheart.” Ashlyn laughs and you growl, turning towards her.  

“Shut up.” You grumble, smiling when Sonnett, Mallory, Sam, Rose and Lindsey push their way passed the veterans, grinning.  

“There’s the Saucy Y/N we love.” Sonnett grins, taking your hand and giving it a squeeze.  

“A compliment from Saucy Sonnett herself.” Your eye lids flutter.  

“You need to sleep.” Mallory caresses your forearm, as do the other babies of the team.

“Not yet, I need to see you all...” You mumble sleepily, the babies of the team moving so your other teammates can see you.  

Julie and Alyssa dote on you, the goalie kneeling down to kiss the top of your head while Julie gently hugs your hand to her chest.  

The rest of your teammates are much the same, Carli leaning down to whisper in your ear to tell much how much she loves you and how much she’s going to be on your ass on your road to recovery, the woman giving your temple a kiss before moving so your other teammates can fill the gaps.  

The lovefest eventually ends, the veterans who were at first, surrounding the bed back to their original places.  

Christen leans down, kissing your forehead, Tobin following suit.  

“We’re just so happy you’re alright.” She whispers Tobin nodding as she gives your hand a squeeze.  

Ashlyn gently strokes your hair, smiling softly and lovingly down at you as your eyelids flutter.  

“You need to sleep now honey.” Ali cups your cheek and you grumble, leaning into her touch.  

“No...” You grumble and Megan rolls her eyes.  

“Stop being so stubborn.” She pokes the top of your nose and you giggle softly.  

“I’m not stubborn.” You mumble under your breath, turning towards Alex and Kelley who are both giving you a pointed look.  

“Please Y/N, you need to sleep.” Alex frowns and you sigh, eyelids fluttering.  

The forward surprises you by ever so gently placing a hand over the hole in your chest, Kelley quickly following suit.  

You smile softly, placing your hand on top of theirs.  

“Okay...” You yawn, your eyelids fluttering.  

“I love you guys.” You mumble, turning from them and glancing around the room. “All of you.”  

“We love you too.” Carli smiles and Sonnett jumps up from behind Tobin and Christen.  

“We all do.”  

You grin turning back to Kelley and Alex.  

“You’ll be here when I wake up?” You whisper softly and they both nod.  

“Of course.” Kelley smiles and Alex grins.  

“We could never leave you.” She leans down, kissing your temple and you smile, your eyes fluttering shut.  

The night had ended in a way none of you could ever expect, but you knew with Alex, Kelley and your teammates by your side, your family, you knew you would get through this.  

[whump-tr0pes]

Honor Bound 2 - 46

This is a series. Start here, continued from here. 

This is a sequel to Honor Bound. 

AO3

Cw: mention of parent killing an adult child, mention of parental abuse, death mention, noncon mention (that didn’t happen)

Isaac scrubbed his face with his hands as he looked down at the map of the eastern sector of New Trisland. He felt like he was going cross-eyed from the hours he’d spent poring over the hundreds of miles of road between them and Colleen’s headquarters. The seat of the Stormbeck power. They all knew there was no other target for them. While Colleen lived, she posed a threat to the family.

“I think if we take 87 south, we could bypass the checkpoints in Brookdale and make it to her house in… two days? If we hurry?” Vera’s brow furrowed as she followed the highway with her finger. “It would take us through Porter, but—”

“Daniel’s people say the Wilsons have moved people into Porter,” Gray said quietly, pinching the bridge of their nose. “There’s no way we could get through there undetected.”

“Maybe we forget about being undetected,” Vera said, a hint of irritation in her voice. “Who gives a shit if we take down a few syndicate members? We’ve never been shy about doing that.”

Gray drew in a deep breath. “The only advantage we have, the only advantage, is the element of surprise. We have to assume she knows we’ve reached the north, if she tracked us all the way to the turnpike. Where else would we be headed?”

“Kind of weird she hasn’t sent her army up to grab us,” Isaac interjected. “It’s not like she doesn’t have the people.”

Vera bit her nail as her eyes moved over the map. “She might as well assume we have Gavin, too, if we’re assuming she thinks we’ve made it north.” Vera shrugged. “She might be unwilling to get us if she thinks we’ll kill Stormbeck Junior. She wouldn’t want us to kill him.”

“She would.”

Vera, Gray, and Isaac jumped and looked to the doorway of the kitchen, where Gavin leaned against the wall. He met Isaac’s gaze for a split second before looking down again, blushing. Isaac’s cheeks blazed.

“She, um.” Gavin took a step closer to the map. “She wants you to kill me. She has this whole time. That’s why I left.”

“Gavin…” Vera’s voice was heavy with skepticism. “I don’t—”

“She wants you to kill me,” Gavin said with finality.

Vera bit her lip. “Gavin…”

“I want you to think about who I am for a second,” Gavin said, meeting Vera’s eyes. “Remember who I… who I was. What I did. Some of that I got from my father.”

Vera winced.

Gavin drew in a slow breath. “I got some of that from my mother, too. My mother wants me dead for getting my father killed. My father always wanted what she wanted. They understood each other. But me…” Gavin laughed bitterly. “I put a toe out of line. I wasn’t her son anymore.” Gavin’s mouth twisted as his eyes filled with tears. Isaac’s heart clenched. “I didn’t want torture anymore. I didn’t want that life. And with my mother there is no life but the life she lives. Okay?”

Vera nodded.

“Tell us more, Gavin,” Gray said softly. Isaac met their eyes. Probing for information about Colleen, yes. But Gray also cared. Gray wanted Gavin to heal, too.

Gavin walked to the kitchen island that was completely covered by the map. He wrapped his arms around his chest. “Um…” He sniffed. “My mom thinks… She thinks we own the world because we… I don’t know, we deserve it or something. All the syndicates, but especially ours. It’s like…” He shrugged. “It’s like… she thinks it’s our divine right. Like we were born to rule, or something. I was part of a, um…” He flushed and ducked his head. “A bloodline, fit to rule. My mom said a lot of crazy shit like that growing up. And then… I turned my back on it. I decided I didn’t want that. And that was, um… unacceptable. I’m either with her, or the enemy. Now I guess that means I’m the enemy.” Gavin ducked his head, looking like he was finished.

“But you found a new side,” Vera said softly. She gasped and snapped her mouth closed.

Gavin looked down shyly. “Um. Y-yeah. I did.” He raised his eyes to Isaac, his mouth curving up momentarily into a smile.

Isaac’s stomach dropped and he cleared his throat. “Gavin… how willing would to be to help us with our plans?”

Gavin’s gaze moved slowly over the map. “I don’t know the most recent movements. But I—”

“We’ll tell you,” Gray interrupted.

Gavin nodded, biting his lip, not taking his eyes off the map. He leaned in and put his finger on a small town a half-day south of Crayton. “Here. Bartram Springs. It’s a city w-we—” He swallowed and raised his eyes apologetically to Gray. “Is it okay if I, um… if I talk about Stormbeck holdings like they’re… like they’re not mine? I don’t…” Again, his eyes flicked to Isaac, and back to Gray. He wet his lips. “I don’t want to talk like my family is still the, um… the Stormbecks.”

“Who else would your family be?” Vera asked, a hard edge to her voice, but her gaze was soft as she looked across the table at Gavin.

Gavin blanched and fell a step back from the group. “Oh, fuck,” he breathed.

Vera’s face darkened and she leaned over the island, the fear Isaac could see in her tense shoulders and fists falling behind a wall of rage. Isaac glanced quickly between them, as Vera’s lip curled into a predatory snarl, and Gavin fell back another step, shaking, eyes wide, looking for all the world like prey.

“Whoa, Vera… hang on a sec,” Isaac said quietly, holding his hands out to her like he would stop her, taking a step back to give himself space to lunge between them if need be. “Vera, wait—”

“What is he so afraid that he just gave away?” she hissed.

“Vera, please,” Gavin whimpered.

“I know for a fact that it’s not whatever you’re thinking of,” Isaac said, his voice taking on a harder edge. “Vera, I need you to just listen for five seconds before you decide to kill him, okay?”

Vera’s jaw clenched, but she tore her gaze away from Gavin to look at Isaac. “Explain to me why he looks like that.”

“I knew you’d kill me,” Gavin whispered.

“Gavin, shut up,” Isaac ground out between his teeth.

“Isaac, what’s going on?” Gray said gently. They reached a hand out to Vera and paused a few inches from her skin, like it was going to burn them.

“Um…” Isaac looked at Gavin where he stood cowering in the middle of the kitchen, eyes fixed on Vera like he was expecting her to leap across the island and kill him right there. “He…” Isaac swallowed hard. Might as well just get it out and worry about the shitstorm later. “Gavin wants to be part of our family.”

Vera froze, her eyes darting between Gavin and Isaac. “What?” she breathed.

“I’m sorry,” Gavin whimpered.

“For fuck’s sake, Gavin, shut up,” Isaac snapped.

“No, let him talk,” Vera said, glaring at Gavin. “I wanna know why he reacted to spilling that like he’d just accidently mentioned he was planning on selling us out when we get south.”

“No,” Gavin gasped. “I wouldn’t—” He trembled and stumbled another step back. His eyes darted between Isaac and Vera. “I’m s-sorry, Vera, I…” He flushed red and collapsed into himself, staring miserably at the floor. “I didn’t want to tell you b-because… I…” He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”

“Gavin,” Gray said gently. “When Isaac says you want to be part of our family, what does that mean?”

“Um…” Gavin lifted his gaze to Gray, looking like a man clinging to a life raft in the middle of the ocean. “I, um…” He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. “I, uh, didn’t really know until… uh… yesterday… when the men…” Gavin shuddered and opened his eyes. “But spending all this time with you, you’ve all been so k-kind, and good, and, um…” He raised his gaze to Gray. “I want in. I want that. I want the, uh… the love you have. I’ve never seen that before. I didn’t know people could… um… love each other like that. How you protect each other…” Tears stood in Gavin’s eyes. “I want to feel that, too. There’s something in me that’s missing, and…” He looked to Vera. “I w-want something like what you have with Tori, or…” He gestured to Isaac and Vera both. “…what you have with each other, or, Isaac, what you have with Sam…” He turned to Gray, tears running down his cheeks. “I want what you’ve given me. I want to be, um, safe. I want to be protected. And I want to protect you. I’ll tell you everything I know about the syndicates. I’ll do everything I can to get you through. To fight them.”

Vera stared at Gavin with an open mouth.

Gavin’s gaze returned to Vera. “I’m learning. Please, I don’t know… how to do this, exactly, but I want to be in your family. Please. Just… tell me how to do it. Please don’t kill me. I… I’m sorry.” He bit his lip, his throat bobbing as tears rolled down his cheeks.

Isaac’s hands shook slightly. “Vera… I know it sounds fucking weird but—”

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” Vera murmured, her eyes fixed on Gavin.

“Um…” Gavin looked helplessly at the others. “I th-thought you’d kill me for it. I wasn’t trying to, to keep it from you, I swear…”

“Gavin,” Vera said softly. “I’m not… why would I kill you for this?”

“Um…” Gavin’s voice trailed off in the barest hint of a whimper.

Vera blushed and leaned back from the island. “Okay. No, that’s fair actually. Um.” She smoothed her hands through her hair, looking at Gray and Isaac in turn. “What do you… What do you think about this?”

“Um…” Isaac swallowed. “I think it’s, um, fine.” For a moment, Isaac felt the ghost of Gavin’s lips on his. His cheeks burned and he stared at the map in front of him.

“Gray?”

Isaac glanced up at them. They were staring at Gavin with a slight smile on their face, their eyes blazing with something like… triumph. Their smile soft with something like… fondness. “I think it’s great,” Gray said quietly.

Gavin bit his lip and stared tremulously at Vera. Her jaw worked as her gaze moved over the map, unfocused. Finally, she raised her eyes to look at Gavin. Her body no longer trembled with tension. Her shoulders relaxed and she held Gavin’s gaze with a look of overwhelming sadness that made Isaac’s bones ache.

They stared at each other for a moment, the tension in the kitchen falling, being replaced by something much calmer. Something like understanding.

“Gavin,” Vera said, her tone even, “This is more than a family. We put ourselves in situations we might not walk away from, where he have to depend on the other person to keep us safe or pull us out. If you want in with us, really in, you have to know that that’s what it’ll be like. That’s what we give each other. If want that from us, we have to you know we can have that from you, too.”

“I swear,” Gavin whispered. “I… You’ve already risked so much for me. And after I—” Gavin sucked in a breath. “You risked yourselves coming north with me. And Isaac, you—” Gavin and Isaac both blushed at the same time, their eyes flicking to the floor in tandem. Isaac glanced at Gray, who was watching them both intently. “Isaac, you had a fucking gun pointed at you yesterday, for me. When you could have l-let me die.” Gavin swallowed hard. “I don’t want to die. But I want to… to be in this family. I’d rather risk my life with you than have my own mother risk it. I’m sorry I kept this from you, Vera.”

Vera’s expression softened further. “I understand why you did.”

Gavin shook his head and stared at the floor. “I know the others won’t like it. I know that Tori—”

“Tori will come around,” Vera said gently.

Gavin’s head snapped up. “What?”

Vera smiled. “Tori will come around. Trust me.”

“But—”

“She’s been dealing with fucked-up people for a long time. She knows nobody is innocent. She’s housed people before who’ve done terrible things to escape the syndicates.”

“What I did was different,” Gavin murmured.

“You’re right. It was.” Vera shrugged. “It was torture. It was evil. But—”

Gavin flinched. Vera looked up at him, pinned him down with her gaze. “But I know you’ve changed. I can see it. So, if you’re serious… then yeah. We can do that.”

Gavin’s eyes went wide. “What… really?”

Vera glanced at Gray, as if for confirmation. Gray’s gaze pierced Isaac, then Vera. “It’s your decision,” they said quietly. “It’s your team now.”

Isaac swallowed hard and met Vera’s eyes. Isaac could read the look on her face, could read her better than anyone else in the world, except maybe Tori. If he means it… if he really means that he wants to be in our family, to risk his life right alongside us…

I trust him.

Vera’s mouth hardened into a line, and he knew he was mirroring her expression. They held each other’s gaze for another moment. They both nodded together.

“Okay,” Vera said softly. “You’re in the family.”

Gavin let out a gusty breath and crumpled forward, his eyes swimming with tears. “Thank you,” he huffed.

“We’ll tell the others tomorrow. And we’ll leave the day after that.” Vera straightened and turned her gaze back to the map. “Until then, we have to plan our trip south. You know your mo—” Vera pressed her lips together. “You know Colleen Stormbeck is our next target, right?”

Gavin nodded gravely. “Yeah,” he whispered.

Vera sought out Gavin’s gaze and held it. “We won’t kill her if we don’t have to. We just want to cripple her operations. But you have to understand if she poses a threat to the family, she dies. Do you understand that?”

Gavin’s jaw worked and he tore his eyes away from Vera’s gaze. “I understand,” he said softly.

Vera drew in a deep breath. “Are you okay with that?”

Gavin bit his lip, his eyes falling closed. “I know she’s my mom,” he said, pronouncing each word carefully. “I know she’s my f-family. But…” His eyes opened and fixed on Gray this time. “I’m remembering things. Things she used to say, things she used to do… I know she never loved me, okay? She only ever loved me when I was being like… my father. Like her. She didn’t even know I never raped my playthings.”

Vera flinched. Gavin looked at her, an apology heavy in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “But… They never knew I wasn’t like them. If they did…” Gavin shuddered. “If we’d managed to get you and Tori back to the house, and I refused to rape you…” He nodded slowly. “I think my father would have killed me then.”

Vera’s mouth opened, then closed again. She closed her eyes and blew out a slow breath through her nose. When she spoke, her voice shook. “I know he would have,” she rasped.

“Okay.” Gavin took a step closer to the map. “I want to help you. I’ll tell you everything I know. Like I said, I don’t know the most current movements. All my information is at least nine months old. But—”

“Anything you tell us will be helpful,” Gray said, and placed a hand gently on Gavin’s shoulder.

Isaac watched as Gavin relaxed into the touch, his eyes closing in a slow blink before he focused on the map again, studiously keeping his eyes away from Isaac.

I wonder if he’s ever been touched like that before he came to us. I wonder if he only ever touched people when he was hurting them.

Isaac’s stomach bucked as he watched Gavin’s eyes move over the map.

I wonder if we could teach him every way there is to be loved.

His thoughts were interrupted as Gavin drew his finger down a county road that cut through the far west of Stormbeck territory. “Once we get to Bartram Springs, we can take this road down. This line,” Gavin said, his voice deeper, stronger, “Is right on the border of the Stormbeck and Anderson territories. We—” He cleared his throat. “The Stormbecks patrol this area sometimes, and so do the Andersons, but most of the time they stay away from each other. There isn’t much in the area worth negotiating for. That’s your best bet to get you here.” He pointed to a city northwest of Colleen’s headquarters. “Richfield. I know it’s contested, but the Stormbecks will be too busy focusing on the dissenters to look for us.”

Isaac and Vera shared a look.

“From Richfield, we can take the 25 to Broadmoore, as long as they haven’t ID’ed the car. And from Broadmoore we can make it to Fort Meyers.” His finger lingered on the dot marking the location of the town. “Where my mom lives,” he murmured.

Isaac’s heart pounded. We’ve never had this much information on how and where the syndicates operate. This could change everything.

“Thank you, Gavin,” Gray said softly.

Gavin nodded stiffly. “Once C-Colleen’s operations are crippled, the entire western sector will fall. They won’t be able to rebuild. Everything goes through her along this route.”

“This has been… more than helpful.” Gray looked at Isaac and Vera.

Isaac nodded, stunned. “Th-thank you, Gavin,” he murmured.

Gavin shyly raised his eyes to Isaac’s, and held his gaze.

I trust him.

Continued here

@untilthepainstarts, @womping-grounds, @free-2bmee, @quirkykayleetam, @walkingchemicalfire, @inpainandsuffering, @redwingedwhump, @burtlederp, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @insomniacscoprio, @cursedscribbles, @whumpywhumper, @stxck-fxck, @omega-em-z-02, @whumps-the-word, @slaintetowhump, @finder-of-rings, @cinnamonflavoredhugs, @thatsthewhump, @im-just-here-for-the-whump, @orchidscript

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

FIC: imagine seeing it printed in the paper for all the world to see

---

Ellen - 12/8/12 Your stores are low. That bargirl is dreadful at her job

Jo - 12/8/12 Sophie is great at her job, mom, we already ordered last week. Delivery is expected today or tomorrow at latest.

Ellen - 12/8/12 That’s not good enough, Jo. I taught you better than that. If you’re not going to appreciate feedback - I’ll just get out of your hair.

Jo - 12/9/12 Lots of stuff going on atm mom that the bar is Sophie and Harry’s domain and they’re on top of it so far as I can tell

Ellen - 12/15/12 Who knows what you can tell any more. If the bar goes into debts it’s your own fault. I’ve gotten a message from Rufus regarding needing help and will be going there for a while. You sort yourself out, missy, or you’re going to fall flat on your face like you always do. You don’t have Ash to bail you out any more, and I won’t be either

Jo - 12/1512

How is Rufus?

Ellen -12/18/12 Fine. Hunt was easy. I’ll be going to the East coast for a while until you grow up.

Jo - 12/25/12 Merry Christmas! You coming by Duluth at all?

Jo - 12/31/12 Happy New Year Mom! Hope all going well, bar’s running alright.

Ellen - 02/08/13 Heard from Bobby you got into some trouble on a hunt. Thought you’d grown out of that recklessness.

Jo - 02/16/13 Wasn’t a big deal. Just some thing with a shifter. It was more cop-trouble.

Jo - 03/23/13 Were you going to be near Duluth for the 7th?

Jo - 04/03/13 Sam and Dean were going to be in town next week. Thought if you’d be around good to catch up for my birthday?

Jo - 04/12/13 Gordon is back. Big trouble. Could use some help.

Ellen - 04/12/13 You were big enough to handle him when you were 15, you can handle him on your own now. Get your monster to help if you’re still doing that.

---

“Sorry I haven’t been around much-” Jo started to say, leaning heaving onto the bartop as she rubbed her eyes. She’d been looking at the laptop screen for too long, months of catching up as she’d been struggling with the effort to deal with the fallout from the other hunter.

She’d barely left the house for weeks, even to come down to the bar, as she’d been too busy watching out for the other. Grey’d jumped at every creak and noise around the house ever since he’d gotten home, and she was considering what she could do aside from going and begging the other shadow to keep up his inconvenient choice of Whispering that running the bar and keeping tabs on what was going on there was so far down on her list of priorities. She was clearly a horrible businesswoman.

“Don’t worry about it at all, Jo.” Sophie brushed her off with a wide smile, quickly pulling out a caffeinated soft drink from the fridge so Jo could get a bit more energy back. “It’s been peaceful really, kinda like the place is actually mine-”

“You got the cash to buy me out?” “Not yet, besides, you should just pay me a manager’s salary and let me take over.” “You want that? Done!”

“I said you should, not that I want you to!” Sophie squawked, waving a hand at her as she moved to get the other ledger - the paper written back up that Jo did actually demand on being done even though most everything was electronic these days. Sophie understood it though or at least respected that Jo had a soft spot for keeping a hard copy, just for backup. There was a pause before the brunette added quietly, “Besides - I know it’s been a while since anyone new or old has been around, but like… Your mom or Anna aren’t going to be coming back and trying to take over again sometime are they?”

Jo jerked for a second before frowning. It had been a long time since there had been any noise from either of them.

She’d lost track and stopped caring about Anna’s desertion a long while back - a hissed comment under the redhead’s breath one night at the bar that made Jo question if those memories she claimed were gone actually were, and then after Jo pressed the question the other had stormed out and Jo hadn’t seen her since. It’d been almost a year at that point so she doubted she’d ever hear from her ever again - if Jo didn’t go looking, the redhead could stay missing so far as she was concerned. Especially if she wasn’t as wiped clean as she had claimed to be.

Her mom on the other hand was a different story. Jo had been reaching out, and hearing back sometimes, but… Things were never and had never been good. But since Ellen had reappeared and tried to pick up where they’d left off before Carthage - things had been worse. She remembered their last conversation in person - Ellen questioning what Jo wanted in life and accusing her of always picking fights when Jo’d asked genuinely for her opinion on her relationship and how things had been going - and their other communication had been breaking down even worse since. Jo didn’t suspect her mother would be coming around any time soon, especially not to take over her bar since she kept pushing Jo to ‘grow up’ and ‘find some maturity’. It was unlikely she’d be coming to ‘bail’ Jo out of her mess any time soon.

Shaking her head, Jo cracked the top of her soda with a sigh before smiling across at her bar-tending friend. “I can safely assure you - unless I tell you, nobody is going to come and take the bar off of you again.”

“I’ll drink to that!” Sophie grinned widely back at her, tapping the lid of Jo’s can with a glass of water of her own before they both buckled down to get the ledgers done and all that boring paperwork Jo’d been ignoring and Sophie had been doing checked before the bar was due to open.

---

The postcards came in from all over the place.

And from all different people.

Some hunters would drop them off in hand, others mailed still, and some were put up by the hunter themselves. Those that were hunter notes usually had a list of details on the back of what was at the location and dates.

Chicago, Austin, San Andreas and others, even Ontario and Quebec.

Those that didn’t have those notes were usually from Ellen, and tucked in and pinned up amongst the rest same as all the others. Those didn’t get any special treatment, just like she knew hers never got additional glances or care.

Milwaukee sat tucked underneath Seattle, there was several from all over Florida and the warmer states.

Jo’d even bought her own postcards for Las Vegas and New Orleans that she’d laughed about tucking beside the strict disapproving sense she got off of the cards from her mother and seriousness from the hunter’s postcards.

Bright and shiny between them.

It was collage spanning the whole country of the webs of connection that the hunting community gave to them all.

And Jo found it comforting to know almost ever part of the country had some touch of not only the supernatural but someone who would protect the innocent or free the trapped.

Point Arena, California to West Quoddy, Maine.

---

That they’d finally bumped into one another was not surprising. That it was over a werewolf hunt where her daughter had bumped her arm and thrown off her shot was a surprise.

Ellen had expected the other had learned by now to not be so reckless and stupid. She had hoped that her daughter would have finally matured into her age and stopped running headlong into things. She had thought perhaps Jo would have grown out of being contrary and arguing because she wanted to rebel.

Their fight at the hotel after Jo had subdued the werewolf with a long chain of silver and getting far too close to the man’s claws for Ellen’s comfort until the sunrose and they’d dropped the man off at his home with the firm promise from the blonde that she’d be back before sundown that night to talk more through what his options were had been on a par with their old fights across the worn Roadhouse floorboards.

Jo had screamed and ranted and raved and demanded that she was right, and that she knew better and that she knew what she was doing. It was so reminiscent that Ellen couldn’t help but fall back into old patterns and asked just how Jo had done handling her old boyfriend since they’d last talked and queried just what Jo had done to turn her old ‘hero’ Gordon against her. The reaction had been icy but even more standard Jo than the screaming - a slammed door and a hiss that she was a grown-up and didn’t have to answer to Ellen anymore - but a firm grip on the other’s arm had stopped the chance of her storming out like the rebellious fifteen-year-old she’d been the last time they had this conversation.

Jo had been quiet and petulant, and tugged and pulled to free herself, but all Ellen could see was her pouting teenage daughter who thought she was strong enough, fast enough, good enough to be out on those dusty roads where she was going to end up dead and gnawed on by some monster. More than she already was, given the scarring on her neck that Ellen had heard through Bobby had been a very nasty accident. All she could see was that same child that wouldn’t listen to her, and screamed that it was Ellen’s fault that her daddy left so often and why couldn’t she be nice and understanding for once.

Ellen had shaken her head then as she let go of her glaring daughter and decided that was it. That was the moment she was done. She’d tried her best to protect her. She’d worked for years with a petulant, stubborn reckless brat of a child with daydreams and fantasies about her perfect father that Ellen could never quite scrub the idealistic glint from. She’d given her all and yet it never had an impact. And she was done. She was done trying to reign the other in, and fix her mistakes, and rescue her from her back choices. She was done trying to protect Jo from herself.

She’d not said as much to the raging blonde though. She’d waited a moment before sighing and simply saying that she was done. She was out.

“I’m not going to be hunting anymore, Jo, you’re going to finally be on your own. I hope you do know what you’re doing for once.”

---

Jo - 05/16/14 I love you mom. Hope today has been okay for you.

You near Chicago still?

Ellen - 05/18/14 Moved last month. Decided to try New York for a while. Moving as much as you hunt.

Jo - 07/23/14 Got a case in New York if you’re around might drop by?

Ellen - 07/26/14 Moved last week - down in Florida.

Jo - 12/24/14 Merry Christmas mom! I was going to go down to get some sun if you were still in Florida somewhere?

Ellen - 01/12/15 Hope you had good holidays and actually spent time with people not your knives. I’ve actually moved to a spot in Texas and going to Michigan next month likely.

Jo - 02/12/15 Got a case near Michigan! Happy to see your daughter?

Ellen - 02/13/15 Would but I stayed in Texas Nothing that would excite you here

Jo - 05/16/15 You ANYWHERE in the continental US this month?

Ellen - 05/20/15 How about I tell you next time I have time in MY schedule for once, Joanna Beth, rather than you thinking you and your gladding about as a hunter means everyone else has to operate under your schedule?

---

“You heard anything?”

“Since when?” Bobby grumbled the words back at her with a sharp look, and Jo quickly lowered her own voice as she watched his glance through the open doors into the kitchen where Dean was working on dinner. Or at least, what Dean called dinner. They were likely having some kind of tater-tot casserole - but at least Jo knew it would still be a dish made with love given how flustered the man seemed to be trying to cook for more than just himself and maybe Sam for once. Sam was resting upstairs in one of the spare beds after the boys had rolled in from a demon-hunt that’d resulted in a sore back for the taller hunter and a nasty gash on the other’s face that he covered with the worst bandaging Jo’d ever seen when she arrived. “I ain't heard nothing from your mom since more than a year passed.”

“Yeah?” Jo frowned to herself slightly, rubbing at the back of her neck as she thought about it. “Been longer than that since I last saw her.”

“Oh?” Bobby’s tone reeked of surprise, and Jo couldn’t quite meet the concerned and caring look in his eye as he seemed to take in that information. It was a surprise of course. Even when Jo’d been on the road without Ellen’s so called permission - despite her being a grown-ass-woman at the time - Jo had heard back from her more than she was now. Bobby knew how much the other had kept tabs on her, and especially through him as it was. “All I can say is that she hasn’t been in touch with me to follow up on your, Jo.”

Jo frowned all over again at that. It was so unusual and she had expected despite Ellen’s claims that she was out of hunting that she would keep tabs on her still. It was just what she’d always done. Ellen had never given her the chance to not be watched really - and thus half of the appeal of a strong, charismatic older hunter offering a chance away from Ellen’s control and watchful spies had been all the more - but that her mom really had stepped out from the hunter-sphere felt surprisingly okay.

Jo was standing on her own two feet, and even more than that, she was thriving on her own really.

“Ah well, I can’t really expect she’d want to keep up with things given I still haven’t changed how she wants yet.” Jo finally added after a long moment’s silence and taking a long drag from her beer. “Not bein’ a so called grownup and given up this huntin’ nonsense.”

“That what you think her issue is?” Bobby grumbled the words out, taking a long sip of his scotch as he considered her quietly for a moment. “Not the monster boyfriend?”

“Ha, all she wanted was me to settle down. I think she’s more angry he isn’t tryin’ to control my life like she did Daddy’s.” “He doesn’t stop you hunting?” “Not at all. Grey’s always respectful that huntin’ is what I do.” “Hmm.”

Jo let out a quiet laugh as she looked at the grumpy but believing look the other gave her for a moment before letting out a soft sigh. “Pretty sure even if I wasn’t datin’ Grey, and wasn’t huntin’ she’d still not be happy or care all that much-”

“Jo, that’s your mom. She’ll always care about you,” Dean chimed in as he moved through from the kitchen, a disapproving frown on his face as he stared down at Jo for a moment. “It ain’t like you’re some horrible person that nobody could care about, and even then - she’s still your mom. Mother’s always love you.”

Jo felt a little shiver down her spine at those words, shaking her head to rid the tiny spark of fear they’d brought up, before letting out an exhausted sounding laugh. “You can think that if you like Deano. I’ll just know that I ain’t what my momma ever wanted in a kid and that she’s goin’ to be disappointed s’long as I’m not workin’ some kid-friendly job with a bun in the oven and a banker husband with a white picket fence. It’s fine.”

Dean gave her an even more disapproving look, which Jo shook her head again to rid before pointing a finger at him. “You shut up and sit down here so I can fix that hideous bandage, then you can fight with me ‘bout it.”

The other hunter followed instructions with a quiet grumble, and Jo moved to grab Bobby’s first aid kit but found herself smiling softly as she heard the older hunter talking softly to the other man as she left the room.

“You know, she’s probably right. Jo’s always had so much more of her dad in her - it’s like Bill ain’t never left.”

---

Jo - 03/10/16 Not sure what you’re up to, but if you had a date/time to catch up would love to see you, mom

Jo - 04/07/16 Thank you for having me. Happy birthday for me. You free sometime?

Jo - 05/16/16 I miss you mom I miss dad Are you free?

Jo - 08/28/16 Wanted to see where you were at in case I’m ever nearby?

---

The sound of the siren was sharp and high pitched. It was endless and whirring. And all over the sound of it’s cry she could hear another cry. Someone sobbing and gasping and crying in pain. It was a ragged and harsh sound, and it made her ears and mind hurt to hear the pain in each gasp.

“The driver’s here! She’s breathing!” The voice was unfamiliar and in the state of fog right then, Ellen was sick of trying to differentiate yet another new voice. She heard a hiccup in the crier’s voice, but then the other voice continued again - shouting for the jaws of life and a gurney.

She tried to shake the voices away, the wailing siren too, but all that did was make the crier scream out in agony. Her agony, Ellen realised belatedly as she felt her neck stiff and painful and her head ring in an oddly disjointed way at her attempt to move. It was her crying. She rarely heard the sound, it was so odd to think of herself crying.

She had used to cry silently all the time - alone in bed, or in the shower, or out the back of the bar taking a ‘smoke’ break with no cigarettes when some hunter would come in hurt and dying or dead - but she had stopped after she’d lost her husband. Why cry over the other men foolish enough to follow him into death with their insane line of work? Why keep spilling her tears over a man who hadn’t cared enough about her to stay home? Why cry over what she saw had been falling apart even before they had been married a year?

She had cried afterwards though over someone else - tears had been spilt for years as she watched the lure of the same dangers draw her daughter in. Ellen had tried to stop it, but no one could stop the inevitable. And by the time her daughter had died in her arms and she’d been blown sky high along with her, she had been sure she’d shed her last tears over her husband’s choices to ruin her life. She should have packed up and left year, decades, earlier to try for any happiness but she’d failed her daughter and more importantly herself so the tears had burned away too.

Getting back, Ellen had not cried again. Why cry over her daughter being stupid enough to continue the same path where she left off? Why cry over hunters still, thirty years on? Ellen was sick of crying over hunters and she had left them behind her. It had been for her, and she deserved to be happy.

Sucking in a painful breath that felt more like liquid than air that left her gasping and crying as the paramedic tried to free her from her seat - Ellen was glad this was the time she was crying again. This seemed valid to cry about. Everything hurt but somehow nothing did either. Everything was a fog and quiet but oh so loud too. It seemed right to cry then.

Her life in Swainsboro, Georgia had been great. She’d been working at a few different jobs before getting a managers position at a small bookshop-slash-coffeeshop. She’d made many friends and been part of a community garden. She’d gone to church and been the only one to know that the God they prayed to was truly real and could listen if He wanted. She sometimes even sent a prayer to him that her old friends were safe and okay. She had been part of a council Beautification team working to make the community better. She had helped at the Church and at the local library reading story time every Tuesday and Thursday morning. She had been the Ellen she’d always wanted to be with a small dog and a cute little house that had no iron and no saltlines and no warding against the supernatural under every doorstep. She had been the woman she’d always dreamed she would be.

Her life had been a dream in the small quiet part of the world, and letting out a last hollow cry, Ellen could feel the world slipping from her in a way she did not experience the first time and could only think that she was glad this time she could die happy with the way her life had been. If only the rest of those she cared for could say the same.

---

“This number is no longer in service. For information, contact the phone service provider.” - 04/07/17

---

“Who’s that?” Jo found herself asking as she leaned against the counter top of the Police station. She was hear on a case the next town over but who didn’t have their own station and as such had their records stored there in Swainsboro. Her suit felt awkward and stiff but she knew that was just her own discomfort being surrounded by law enforcement rather than the suit itself - loving selected on a shopping trip with her sister earlier that year - given the quality of the fabric and the flattering cut of the pencil skirt and jacket that showed off her curves but in a way that still worked perfectly for a Federal agent cover but also a flirty journalist. Today it was Agent Bennet after some very important files about the cow mutilations and missing girls the next town over.

“Who?” “That photograph there.”

“Oh, you mean Mrs Helving!” The friendly dark haired woman working the counter replied, moving over to unpin the photograph of the middle aged woman. “Well, actually, I guess you mean Mrs Jane Doe.”

“Huh?” “She’s one of our unidentified persons-” “What?”

Jo felt like she’d just been doused in ice water as she looked between the photograph of her mother’s face smiling in a way Jo never really remembered seeing before and the officer. Her mother looked back up at her from the photograph - sure her hair was a little less grey and her eyes held more shine and the clothes she wore looked like a Sunday Church goer, but it was still her mom.

“Mrs Helv- uh, you know what, no, Mrs Helving.” The officer smiled gently, a touch of sadness in the woman’s face as she took in the photo over the counter across from Jo, before shaking her head. “Or at least that’s how she was known around town. She was so lovely - worked the Sunday School, and was part of the community garden, and ran the bookshop for old Mr Jenkins - but such a shame.”

“Shame?” Jo asked quietly handing the photograph back with a frown. “What’s a shame?”

“Well, that’s the thing. She wasn’t Mrs Helving! It was an alias!” The officer was wide eyed and sounded shocked to herself at such gossip, putting the photograph back gently. “Turns out all her identification papers were fake, and we only found out after the car crash that she wasn’t who she said she was.”

Jo frowned to herself, tucking her hands into her suit pockets to hide the slight shakes as she looked across curiously. As the officer looked back at her, Jo raised a brow in silent question.

“It was a few months ago. Poor dear!” The other woman shook her own head as she moved to sit back down at her counter with a sigh. “Back during the winter we had an unexpected snow storm. It wasn’t so bad, but poor poor Mrs Helving was in a car crash out on the interstate coming to help pack down the Nativity scene just after new years and her car was driven from the road by an eighteen wheeler. Died right after the paramedics arrived.”

“Oh.” Jo found herself letting out a quiet whoosh of breath as she looked away out the window for a moment, before forcing herself to shake the thought as another officer came out the back with the file boxes she was after. Work first, deal with that second. “Thanks, can I have an office?”

As she moved around to a spare room to read through the paperwork she was after, Jo opened a few tabs on her phone as well to research about the so-called Mrs Helving and her lovely life in Georgia. It wasn’t hard to find what she’d been up to, how the last few years had been, and how respected and cared for Ellen must have been the way she had been back in her domain of the Roadhouse - and yet the effervescent smile in place at all times was the way that never appeared at the last place. Ellen’s life looked great, and like she’d been happier off leaving the world of hunters and pain behind.

Jo had finished with her paperwork and made her way out of the station and towards the local diner to get a good dinner before setting off back to the hunting grounds of what definitely looked to be a lone vampire. She found herself eating her meal quietly, eyes on the articles and Facebook posts and every little thing she could find about her mother’s life, before she pushed away and somehow found herself drawn to the local cemetery the funeral notice had stated she would be resting.

Mrs Ellen Helving 01.07.17 She sowed courtesy and reaped friendship

She planted kindness and gathered love

Looking at it, Jo couldn’t help but let out a laugh at such ridiculousness.

That wasn’t the memory of her mother - it wasn’t what she would have put on such a tombstone and it wasn’t what she would ever say of Ellen Harvelle. Sure, she had been courteous and kind, made friends and shared a loving care for those that came through her door, but that wasn’t what a hunting-widow was made of. Ellen Harvell had been fire and fury, rage and coldness, and an ever present fear of the world outside of the Roadhouse doors where she couldn’t see or control things. That was what Jo would remember of her mother - not some kind woman who was open and loving to all. That wasn’t the tombstone where her mother rested. Her mother had left a charred building and slaughtered hounds of Hell in her wake, she had left a grave marker more in line with the fire that fueled her life.

A bouquet of flowers left behind was all that Jo really felt necessary when she had finished laughing at the tombstone. A small respectful set of flowers for a woman that Jo knew she didn’t know, a stranger with her mother’s past but without the baggage. The words were about a woman Jo never got to know - not the mother Jo had gotten, but how Ellen always should’ve been - and the end of her life seemed as normal as Jo knew she’d always wanted it to be.

Something felt hollow about it, but as Jo set off back to the next town - she knew that Carthage was only a few hours out of her way back home, and maybe she could leave some flowers at her real mother’s grave.

---

[samsexualdeancurious]

Counter Curse | Part One

Pairing: Sam x Rowena

Words: 1,638

Prompt: Another witch's spell causes Sam's hair to fall out and Rowena tries to make things better.

Warning: light hurt/comfort

Written for Susan for her September Angel request.

Betaed by @saxxxology

---

Sam grunts when he’s slammed against the wall. The witch smirks as she draws closer, one hand reaching up to stroke his cheek and then toy with a lock of his hair. Sam glares down at her. Across the room, Dean squirms in the ropes holding him to a chair and swears at her through his gag.

“Such pretty hair,” the witch coos. “So healthy. You take such good care of it. It must be important to you.”

Before he can respond, she tugs a few strands from his scalp.

“What the fuck?” Sam snaps, jerking his head away.

She just laughs and moves to the table in the center of the room. Sam watches with horror as she drops the hairs into a bowl. She quickly begins measuring out and adding other ingredients to the bowl.

“What the hell are you doing?” Sam shouts, fighting against whatever magic is holding him against the wall.

“Nothing much,” she says, like he’s supposed to be assured by that. She shoots him a wink. “I think you would look good with a new hairstyle.”

Sam’s brow furrows and he opens his mouth to snark at her but he’s interrupted by the door bursting open at the same time the witch drops a match in the bowl.

“Too late,” she crows, turning to face the tiny redhead who’s just entered the room. “Poor man.”

“Oh, do shut up,” Rowena says with a roll of her eyes, heels clicking on the witch’s hardwood floor.

She waves her hand, muttering a word Sam doesn’t quite catch, and the other witch makes a choked noise, falling to her knees and clawing at her throat like an unseen something is blocking her windpipe. The magic holding Sam against the wall fails at the same time the witch crumples and goes still.

Rowena nudges her with one delicate foot, grimacing when it’s clear the witch is dead, and then looks between Sam and Dean. Her curls bounce around her head, catching the sunlight coming through the windows.

“Hello, boys,” she smirks, moving to begin untying Dean. Her loose green blouse and black pants swirl around her as she walks, emphasizing how gracefully she moves. “What, not even a thank you?”

Sam is staring at the still-smoking bowl on the table. “What, um. What spell do you think that was?”

Once Dean’s hands are free, Rowena leaves him to untie his own legs while she examines the remains of the spell. She hums thoughtfully as she picks up and inspects each ingredient.

“Did she put your hair in this?” she asks, sniffing the contents of the bowl.

“Yeah,” Sam says, cautiously drawing closer to the table. He runs a hand through his hair and when his hand comes away from his scalp, he feels it.

“Oh, Samuel,” Rowena sighs, grabbing his hand and drawing it around in front of him so they can both see the clumps of hair caught between his fingers.

Dean’s joined them now, rubbing at his mouth where it was stretched around the gag.

“What’s going on?”

“The spell is causing Samuel’s hair to fall out,” Rowena explains, gently brushing the strands from Sam’s fingers.

Sudden emotion catches in Sam’s throat and he makes a choked noise when he speaks. He moves to touch his hair again but Rowena’s small hands curl around his wrists to stop him.

“No, don’t do that,” she says, looking up at him with a soft, almost tender expression. “Don’t touch it, that will just make things worse.”

“Can you… can you fix it?” Sam whispers, voice barely a sound at all.

Rowena’s thumbs stroke gently along the insides of Sam’s wrists. “I will try. I think there is a spell that can help but I need to search the library for it. Can you keep your hands out of your hair during the drive?”

Sam nods, clenching his hands into tight fists. “I… I’ll try.”

She gives his wrists one last squeeze and lets go. Sam’s first instinct is to touch his hair and he presses his fists to his thighs, desperately trying to curb the urge.

“Sam?”

He lifts his head to meet Dean’s concerned gaze. “I’m… okay.”

Dean grips Sam’s shoulder. “No, you’re not. I don’t understand why this is hitting you so hard but it is and we’re going to fix it. Okay?”

Sam nods, looking down at his hands. “Okay.”

--

Baby is waiting a few blocks from the witch’s place. Sam spends the walk with his hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders hunched. Dean and Rowena keep shooting him concerned looks, which isn’t helping much.

Sam can’t really put his hands in his pockets while sitting in a car, so instead he folds them between his knees. He finds himself bouncing one leg nervously, though, which doesn’t really help.

“Sam,” Rowena murmur, one tiny hand sliding over his shoulder. “Give me your hands.” “What?” he twists to stare at her, searching for an explanation in those hazel eyes.

She doesn’t waver. “Give me your hands.”

Sam hesitantly turns his body sideways in the seat so he won’t be twisting his arms around awkwardly. She offers her hands and he covers them with his own. She’s so small, even smaller in comparison to himself.

“Better?” she asks, curling her fingers through his.

“Better,” he whispers. He glances at Dean and finds that, thankfully, his brother is keeping his eyes on the road and has decided not to comment on what’s going on next to him.

The drive back to the bunker is only a few hours but it feels like days. Sam doesn’t hold Rowena’s hands the entire time - that would be ridiculous - but she does her best to come up with things to keep his hands busy and out of his hair. By the time they get home, he’s only slipped up once. The sight of clumps of hair caught between his fingers makes his stomach twist and he hastily brushes it off. Rowena offers him her hands again after that.

When they enter the library at last, Rowena goes right to the section of books she needs. She begins pulling books off the shelves, laying them out on a table to flip through them. Dean mumbles something about making food and then Sam finds himself alone with her. He ends up sitting at the table, keeping his hands busy with closing and stacking the books Rowena discards, trying to fight down the panic that keeps threatening to rise to the surface. He’s so intent on his task that he startles when she makes a triumphant sound and jumps into action.

“I found the counter curse,” she explains, shooting Sam a brilliant smile as she begins pulling ingredients from her bag. “We can stop this hair loss in its tracks.”

She quickly measures out and adds ingredients to a wooden bowl, murmuring magic words as she goes. Sam could swear her eyes go purple at points. He watches her intently, eager to see the results of her spell and enraptured by watching her work. She’s always so graceful and particularly so when doing magic.

“All right,” Rowena says, straightening up and looking to Sam. “One last ingredient.” Sam somehow knows exactly what she needs. He reluctantly tugs on a few strands of hair. They come away easily and he hands them over to Rowena, who adds them to her bowl. One match and a burst of purple flame later, and she steps back with a satisfied nod.

“The curse is broken,” she tells Sam. “What’s already been lost will have to grow back in on its own but you won’t lose any more.”

Relief floods Sam’s body and he shoots to his feet, rounding the table to sweep Rowena into a hug. She squeaks, surprised, and then tentatively returns the hug. Sam pulls back quickly, though, cheeks burning as he realizes what he’s done.

“Thank you,” Sam says shyly. “I really appreciate you helping me.”

“It was nothing,” Rowena replies, looking up at him with an expression he can’t make sense of right now. She reaches up to pat his cheek and he fights the urge to lean into her touch. “I’m always happy to help you, Samuel.”

His cheeks heat up even more and he ducks his head away from her touch. “If there’s anything I can do to, um, repay you a little-”

“Take me to dinner?” Rowena says before he can finish his sentence.

Sam’s eyes snap to her face, searching for any sign that she’s messing with him. He doesn’t find that, though. Instead, he finds a conviction that sends heat down his spine.

“Yeah,” he manages. “I can do that.”

She smiles and grabs his shirt collar, dragging him down so she can press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Good. I’m looking forward to it.”

Sam watches in stunned silence as Rowena gathers her things, snaps her bag shut, and then glides from the room at the same time Dean enters, tray of food in hand.

“Ooh, pasta,” Rowena says as she passes, snatching one of the plates. “Thank you, Dean.”

And then she’s gone, probably off to the room she’s claimed as her own. Dean stares after her a moment and then turns to look at Sam.

“Everything fixed?” he asks, crossing the room to set the tray on the table.

Sam’s vaguely aware of how good the two remaining plates of pasta smell. “Yeah,” he says after a second. “Yeah, everything’s good.”

Dean eyes him thoughtfully and then smirks. “Got a little something on your face,” he teases, gesturing to the corner of his own mouth.

Sam flushes and scrubs at his mouth with the back of his hand, pointedly not looking at the smudges of lipstick that come off. “Shut up.”

---

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—

Team Forever: @mrswhozeewhatsis @laughing-at-the-darkness​​ @tumbler-tidbits​​ @imsuperawkward​​​​ @emoryhemsworth

[theshopislocal]

corinth rains

New and improved Heaven may well be the Happiest Place (not) on Earth. But Dean, it turns out, is still Dean.

(also on AO3)

chapter four

Time passes in Heaven much like in a dream. In brief, grappling moments of clarity, Dean can retrace his steps, determine the decisions and actions that landed him wherever he’s found himself. But he finds those moments are few and far between, slipping through his shaking fingers the moment he unfists them.

More often than not, Dean’s afterlife feels much like his before-life: stumbling buzzed and ill-prepared from set piece to set piece, shoulders at his ears and a tension headache waiting for its cue.

Dean hunches forward and crosses his arms on the bar. His beer’s gone flat - par for the course with El Sol; it’s usually sat on the same shelf as Natty Ice, after all. He remembers a time when he was fifteen or so, and Bobby had cracked one open for him after Sammy had conked out. Dean had held in his grimace as long as he could, but the dregs had been skunky and tepid, flat as Sam’s Ovaltine. Bobby had rolled his eyes, grumbling ‘Well, drink faster, boy!’

These days, Dean could probably down a sixer of the stuff before the bubbles went out. And with Heaven’s littering policy vanishing all his empties, it’s entirely possible he already has.

A vague silhouette appears behind the bar, tan hands sliding onto the counter at the top of Dean’s eyeline. Dean clenches his jaw and keeps his eyes down, half expecting it’s the barkeep come to cut him off.

A husky laugh comes from somewhere above his head, drawling and achingly familiar.

“Keep thinkin’ so hard, you’re gonna sprain somethin���,” she says.

Dean’s spine goes stiff, eyes widening. He hasn’t heard that voice in ten - no, fifty - years. Not since its owner had bitten out a raspy ‘Don’t miss,’ and then burned alive in propane fire.

Dean’s eyes crawl upwards, catching on the broad hips and trim waist, the curve of her chest up to the freckles across her clavicle.

She looks just as she did the day he met her - jaw rounded and taut, mouth a straight line, a no-nonsense brow over slitted dark eyes. Her auburn hair frames her face, its golden tips brushing over her wide shoulders.

He’d never said as much (for fear of getting cuffed over the ears), but he’d always thought she was a looker. Sun-weathered and artless - a dust bowl beauty.

Dean’s jaw clenches. “Ellen Harvelle,” he says, voice pitched low.

She quirks an eyebrow and matches his tone. “Dean Winchester.”

For a moment, he’s transported to a roadside dive. He sees himself: twenty-seven, undead, orphaned and sick with it. So damn angry he can barely see straight. He sees Ellen, a matriarch with a .38 special and eyes made out of flint.

She looks much the same now. And just as it did back then, her scowl splits in a toothy smile, ruddy cheeks dimpling.

“Well?” she says, leaning forward against the bar. “You gonna hug my neck, or what?”

Dean gives a gusty exhale, shoulders sagging, and hoists himself to his feet. He leans across the bar, arms wrapping tight around her back, and he squeezes his eyes closed, pressing his nose into her hair. She smells like charred barrels and gunsmoke, sweet hops and ballistol.

“Damn,” he sighs out. “It’s good to see you.”

Ellen gives a little chuckle and pulls back, dusting off Dean’s shoulders.

“Ditto, kiddo,” she says with a crooked smile. “Though I should throw ya out, drinkin’ that piss water at my bar.” Her eyes cut down to his nearly empty bottle, and she raises a sharp eyebrow.

Well, she ain’t wrong. Dean snorts and squints his eyes, one corner of his mouth quirking up in a sly grin.

“You got somethin’ better?” he leers.

The panty-dropper act had worked like a charm in his twenties - sixty damn years ago, now - but Ellen’s always been made of stronger stuff. Her brow drops low in an unimpressed glare that has Dean smiling wide.

Ellen huffs and rolls her eyes, then stoops down behind the bar, rifling through her wares. She comes up a moment later and slaps her prize down onto the counter, a triumphant smirk around her mouth.

Dean furrows his brow and peers down at the bottle. It’s crystal and shapely, its contents a deep, glittering amber, and Dean’s eyes catch on the shiny inlaid lettering across the front: O.F.C.

Holy shit. “Is that...?”

Ellen grins while Dean gapes like a damned fish. “Buffalo Trace, Old Fashioned Copper,” she confirms, and Dean’s eyebrows nearly climb off his face. “Thirty years old.”

Dean’s never been much of a one for pomp and provenance; he’d as soon shoot three fingers of Bobby’s old rotgut as sip at a decanted Lagavulin. But Dean’s pretty sure he’s seen this very bottle on a pillowed pedestal behind a glass wall, and hell if he isn’t itching for a taste.

His eyes follow the curves of the bottle, and he runs his tongue over his lips. “We drinkin’ slow or shootin’ like heathens?” he asks, peering up at Ellen.

Her lips go wide in a smug smile as she slips her hands under the bar. They reappear a second later, three scuffed little shot glasses clinking in each, and she slides them onto the counter.

Her brow arches in a double-dog dare. “What do you think.”

Dean’s smile goes sharp, and he leans forward on his stool, jutting his chin out to the side in a gamely nod. “Rack ‘em.”

Ellen gives a humming laugh and sets about lining up the little glasses. She grabs the bottle by the neck, and the stopper gives a satisfying pop as she pulls it.

“How ya doin, kid?” she asks, tipping the mouth of the bottle over each glass.

It’s a loaded question, one Dean’s heard about a hundred times since he hopped the pearly gates. Skirting it has become something like second nature.

He watches the glasses fill in succession. Ellen pours like a master - quick and efficient, not a drop lost. “Better now,” he says, eyes fixed on the glinting lip of the final glass.

Ellen spits a laugh and turns the bottle in her hand, gravity chasing the drippage back down the neck. “Ain’t we all,” she murmurs and pops the stopper back in.

She slides three shooters across the bar in a little line. They slosh, but don’t spill, and Dean watches the tiny legs evaporate on the musty air.

Ellen takes a glass between her thumb and middle finger, hunching her rounded shoulders forward. “Ready to put some hair on that chest, pretty boy?”

Her mouth is a straight line, but there’s a smirk in her eyes that has the corner of Dean’s lips ticking up in a cocky grin. “Big talk,” he says and grabs a shot in a loose fist. He holds it up in a vague toast, grunting a sporting, “Cheers.”

The first goes down smooth like warm honeyed water, with a bite at the end that has him reaching for the next. The second is bite all the way through, spiced and peaty against the flat of his tongue. He takes a short gasp of breath before the last, and he’s glad he did; it hits him like wildfire, scalding his throat with brine and accelerant - a salt n’ burn in a tiny scratched glass.

Ellen makes a sound like ‘hoo-ey’, and Dean looks up at her through watery eyes. Her face is screwed up, tongue running over her teeth, and Dean huffs a laugh that feels like smoke in his lungs.

“Damn,” he says, voice thick in his throat. He sniffs and blinks back tears around an open-mouth smile. “You know you ain’t gotta liquor me up if you wanna take advantage, right?”

Ellen grumbles and runs her hand through her hair, before pointing a chiding finger at Dean. “Mind your tongue, boy,” she says and drops her hands to the edge of the bar. “Bill hears you talkin’ like that, he’ll put one between your eyes.”

That brings Dean up short. A startled beat passes as Ellen stacks up the shot glasses, and Dean stares at the top of her head, slack-jawed.

His voice comes back to him on a stuttering exhale. “You got Bill back,” he murmurs.

Ellen’s hands freeze, and she glances up at Dean, circumspect. She holds his eyes for a brief moment, then smiles down at her little glass tower.

“Yeah,” she says, settling her elbows on the bar. “First thing I laid eyes on after your boy fixed up the joint.” She snorts under her breath, shaking her head. “Bout fell over when I saw him. It was...” Her voice cuts out, and she pulls her bottom lip through her teeth, eyes far away. “A moment.”

Dean watches her - the way her eyes flick back and forth, a tiny smile curving her mouth, the dim fluorescent light glinting off her hair. She stares on, blithe and lovely, an understated joy hovering around her.

Dean’s eyes cut down to his hands, one clenched so tight it shows white at the knuckles.

“Well,” he says, mustering a smile. “I’m real happy for ya.”

He means the words - entirely, wholeheartedly - but there’s a blue note in his tone that he can’t quite suppress. He broadens his smile, lets his crow’s feet show, and slips his last glass on top of the stack.

Ellen tips her head, sharp-eyed and considering. Dean holds his counterfeit smile for a moment, the weight of her gaze pulling his lips down; then he drops his eyes to his hands, fingers laced and wringing on the bar.

Digging his fingernails into his knuckles, he wonders when exactly he forgot how to play it cool.

Ellen gives an inscrutable hum, then slides the glasses off the bar and into the sink, spinning the rusted chrome spigot. Dean watches the water pour from the spout, wondering idly if it’s holy.

“You could have that too, you know,” Ellen says, eyes fixed on the basin. “A Moment.”

Dean’s mouth drops open of its own volition, and he snaps it shut with an audible click. He scrubs a hand over his face, hiding the sudden warm spots.

“Yeah, well,” he says, gruff. “I never really had, uh,” he wets his lip, shaking his head, “a Bill.” He gives her a tight smile, pressing his tongue against the roof of his mouth. The words taste wrong - but then, so does everything else.

Ellen’s eyes narrow for a split second before her face goes carefully blank, eyes falling back to the sink. “You could have.”

Dean’s eyes snap to her face, still downturned, and his jaw clenches tight. A frisson of panic runs through him, crystallizing into a hard mass somewhere behind his sternum. It’s heavy and dense, with a beguiling gravity that pulls him in - in to the Empty space where he thinks his soul might have been, in to the trussed up ma’lak box of Shit He Doesn’t Think About. This close to it, he can just make out the whispering voice—

Happiness isn’t in the having.

A shaft of sunlight pours in through an open window, bright and garish against Dean’s eyes. He shakes his head, quick and spasmodic, and glances back up at Ellen.

Her eyebrows are drawn together in a guileless frown, the errant ray of sunshine lightening her hair, and she looks so very, very much like—

Joanna Beth.

Of course, Jo.

Everyone with two eyes had seen the flickering flame between them - always teetering between roaring to life and sputtering out. In the end, he’d kissed her mouth as she lay dying, and watched her burn in salted fire. He’d soldiered on, dry-eyed and numb, and added her name to a bill he couldn’t pay.

You could have. Dean almost laughs.

“Yeah, well,” Dean grumbles, voice rough in his throat. “Jo’s probably the sweetest girl I ever met, but—”

Ellen barks a dry laugh. “Oh honey, it never woulda worked with you and Jo.”

Dean peers up at her askance, and she stares back, face straight but for a tiny wry smile.

She grabs a damp dish towel from the sink and dries her hands, giving a loose shrug. “You were too old for her.”

Dean huffs a brittle laugh and nods down at his hands. That much is certainly true, but- “No tellin’ the jailbait that,” he mutters.

“Nah, I ain’t talkin ‘bout numbers,” Ellen counters. “Even if she’d been your age...” She breathes out a sigh, and Dean looks up at her. The little rag is balled up in her loose fist, her lip caught between her teeth.

She’s silent for a short beat, unfocused eyes downcast. Then she sucks in a short breath and shakes her head, eyes cutting over to Dean’s. “She was a kid,” she says, and gives a soft chuckle. “She’s still a kid, and she’s been dead fifty years.”

Dean gives a weak smile at that, though it hurts like a fresh bruise. He’s not run into Jo since he made it topside, though he’d seen her once after she died. He remembers her, sitting bleary-eyed and sallow next to that bald fucker Osiris - defending Dean’s wasted soul as best she could. He remembers standing in a ring of salt, waiting - hoping - to die by her cool, white hands. You carry all this crap you don’t have to, she’d said. It gets clearer when you’re dead.

A pit yawns open in Dean’s stomach. He’s found a lot of things in Heaven - some he’d lost, some he’d never had - but clarity sure as shit ain’t one.

“You, on the other hand,” Ellen’s voice cuts through Dean’s rambling thoughts, and he peers up into her frowning face. She shakes out the towel and runs it over the countertop between them, giving Dean a furrow-browed look, all sympathy and sufferance. “I don’t think you been a kid since you lost your mama.”

Even softened by the balm of her compassion, the words pull at him, stinging like a paper cut. Dean folds his arms on the bar, hunching his shoulders forward. “Jo lost her dad,” he returns, and winces at the sharpness.

Ellen is unfazed, as ever, and she tips her head, giving a mild hum. “She was older than you were,” she says. “More independent. And she didn’t see it happen, just...” she shrugs and tosses the rag into the sink. “One day, Daddy didn’t come home.”

Dean’s eye twitches in a flinch, but he nods and digs his fingertips into his elbows.

“It hit her,” she goes on, “and hard, but...” Her lips press together in a firm line, and she gives a definitive nod. “She coped.” She glances up at Dean, eyes wise and soft, her voice pitched just above a whisper. “Moved on.”

The implication hangs in the air between them, and Dean gives an imperceptible nod. Dean’s no Dr. Phil, but he knows himself well enough to acknowledge this particular truth. And Sam had pulled enough armchair psychiatry on him over the years to nearly convince him there was no shame in it.

Nearly.

Dean harrumphs around the tightness in his throat. “How is she?” he grunts. “Jo?”

Ellen blinks at him for a moment, brows raised. Then she breathes a tiny sigh and nods her head. “Good,” she says mildly, leaning forward against the bar. “Real good.” She laughs a little and settles her elbows on the countertop. “Joined the Arch practically the second it was formed. Think she mighta been their first recruit.” Another soft chuckle. “If you could even call it that, champin’ at the bit like she was.”

Dean didn’t know Jo’d joined up, but he supposes he could’ve guessed. Hero complexes, piss and vinegar, after all - the sword Jo’d lived and died by.

Dean shifts in his seat, shoulders tightening. “She likes it?”

Ellen’s eyebrows pop up, and she smiles wide. “She loves it,” she crows, tipping her head toward the bar’s saloon style doors. “She and Bill’re runnin’ rounds as we speak.” Her eyes go distant and the slightest bit shiny. “Huntin’ with her daddy,” she intones with a soft smile, “like she always wanted.”

An image floats to the surface of Dean’s mind: Jo, young and gung-ho, twirling a little knife inscribed with her dad’s initials. Dean had told her how John had taken him shooting when he was a boy, how he’d hit every can dead on. He must’ve been proud, she’d said, and Dean had snorted. Yeah, John was proud of him. When he made the shot.

Dean’s hand clenches into a fist, fingernails rasping against his palm. “She’s happy?” he asks, eyes fixed on the countertop.

Ellen is silent for a long, gravid moment. The weight of her gaze pushes down on Dean’s shoulders, compressing his spine.

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “Yeah, she’s real happy.”

The tension across Dean’s back lessens by a fraction. It’s the least Jo deserves - the least all the Harvelles deserve. He nods to himself as the sun comes in through the window again, illuminating the smooth planes of Ellen’s face. The glare hurts Dean’s eyes, but he’s glad it’s shining on someone.

“But,” Ellen starts, and Dean’s eyes snap to hers. She tilts her head, considerate and a little sad. “You’re not,” she says plainly, a frown etched into her forehead.

Dean blanches for an instant, a ribbon of shame tugging through him as the pit in his stomach gapes wider. He gives himself a little shake and smoothes his face into a crooked smile.

“That’s not—” he starts, then shakes his head, lips pursing. “I’m fine,” he says, bald and unyielding. “I’m good.”

Ellen’s eyebrows form an oblique line, doubtful and sympathetic. Dean almost laughs; Ellen never took his bullshit before, he’s not sure why he thought she’d start now.

She holds his stare until his eyes flutter down, his shoulders rising on a deep sigh.

He tries for honesty - the sort of frankness that always terrified him when he was alive - but his voice comes out defenseless and confused, all the bluster of a moment ago dispersed like smoke. “I dunno,” he grunts. “I got Sammy, got—” he hides a stutter behind a grumbling harrumph, “—got Mom and Dad.” He nods his head towards Ellen. “Got you guys, and this...” a vague wave toward the sunlit window, “...place.” He pauses, weighing the validity of the words against the hollowness in his chest, and shakes his head. “Got everything I ever wanted.”

Ellen is silent for half a moment, then gives a pensive hum. He sees her hand slide along the bar toward the whisky bottle, a forgotten MacGuffin sitting half empty.

Her fingers wrap around it, smoothing over the embossed lettering. “Got everything you thought you wanted,” she returns.

Dean feels his face shift into a frown, and he arches an eyebrow at her. “You think there’s somethin’ I want more’n all this?” he counters, a stiff forefinger waving in an all-encompassing gesture.

Ellen’s lips turn down, and she grasps the bottle between her palms. She turns it idly for a moment, then reaches into the sink for a shot glass, plopping it down on the counter between them.

“I think,” she begins, pulling the stopper from the bottle, “there might be something you thought you couldn’t have.”

The breath freezes in Dean’s chest, and his muscles stiffen in a full-bodied flinch.

The one thing I want, comes the whispering voice, gravelly and bleak like something dragged across a tundra. It’s something I know I can’t—

Dean bites his cheek so hard he tastes copper, and he drags his eyes back to Ellen’s downturned face.

She carries on, heedless of Dean’s momentary lapse. “And because you’re,” she huffs a dry laugh, “well, you...” She peers up at his face, and whatever she sees has her brow furrowing deep. She shakes her head once and grabs the bottle, tipping the mouth toward the water-spotted glass as she says, “I think you taught yourself not to want it.”

Dean breathes out a long sigh, and his eyes fall closed. He gets that odd feeling, like something’s swelling behind his breastbone. It spreads like a weed, or a drop of blood in a puddle of water, and the whispering voice takes a breath, as if to speak.

Dean presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek, running the tip along the indents from his teeth. “And what might that be,” he says, dull and a little bitter.

Ellen sets the bottle down and slips the stopper back in. Dean doesn’t look up at her - though her gaze on his face feels like a touch - as she slides the little shot glass towards him.

Her voice is warm and too-soft, edged with a wistfulness that greets Dean like an old friend. “Beats me, kiddo.”

chapter three | chapter five

table of contents

[buckyownsmyheart]

Duty [4/12]

CHAPTER 4: Getting Dolled Up

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: another 2.3k (next week is longer, promise!)

Warnings: A mouthy Sam, groping and a smooch or two

Series Summary: Ex-army doctor, and now on-mission-for-the-Avengers doctor, Major (Y/n) (Y/l/n), had prepared herself for anything. That was, of course, until she met a devastatingly charming Sergeant from Brooklyn with a quick wit and a kind smile. I wonder what will happen.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 3

You always liked to think that you were pretty prepared for anything that might be thrown your way, you had, however, not considered James Buchanan Barnes in an all-black velvet suit. Good god that man did things to you.

“Might want to close your mouth there, Doc,” he smirked at you, “You’ll catch flies.”

You shut your mouth quickly and swallowed, ignoring his smug look.

The team had been summoned by the New York mayor to oversee a gala at an art gallery. Intel suggested that there was going to be an art thief operating that evening, trying to steal one of the pieces of artwork, named “The Power of Reciprocity”, in a more concealed room down a corridor outside of the main room, and the thief would be using the gala as a cover to steal a piece. On the floor would be Tony, posing as himself, and then you and Bucky as undercover guests. In a van nearby would be Sam and Nat, as Steve was currently in New Jersey scoping out a newly reformed gang.

This was how you found yourself eating a bowl of Lucky Charms (because these events only ever have canapés, and you’ll be damned if you were going to go hungry), with half of your make-up on, wearing sweats and trying very hard not to obviously drool over Bucky Barnes as he stood there in his full suited glory.

You placed your now empty bowl in the dishwasher and turned back to Bucky, “I’ll admit, you scrub up nicely Barnes.” This was a small understatement, he did a lot more than scrub up nicely, he might actually be perfect, but there was no way he’d hear you say that. You walked up to Bucky, and continued, “Best I go get dressed and show you up before your head gets so big it needs external support.” You patted him on the chest, partly to satisfy the itch your fingers had to run themselves over every part of him, but also for effect as you walked towards your room.

Nat had tasked herself with finding you the perfect outfit, her reasoning being that she knows what can kill a man, both figuratively and literally. Per Nat’s styling advice, your hair was in a delicate up-do with a few strands framing your face, Wanda had done your makeup to bring out your eyes and the dress you pulled from some vastly expensive shop did wonders for your figure. In the end, you had both agreed on a floor length royal blue dress with jewelled detailing around the waist and the neckline. Nat had also supplied you with a knife thigh holster, as a gun would be too obvious in the dress. She had also bequeathed you one of her favourite knives, but not before adding a quick, “If you lose this, I will end you and everything you care about.” You also had on some heels that were a little too high for you, but you were just there to look pretty, so had thought why not?

You knew you looked good from the bolstering that the girls had given you, but that didn’t remove the butterflies that fluttered gently in your stomach. Ignoring them, you walked out into the kitchen, swaying your hips a little more than usual. The click of your shoes caught the attention of the team gathered there, and silence fell immediately.

“You ready boys?” You called out to them winking at Nat, as she chuckled at everyone eyeballing you. Bucky wandered over to you and gave you a not-so-subtle once over, and then a twice over.

He offered his arm, “Shall we?”

“Lead the way, Robocop.”

You took his arm and walked out with what had been becoming a permanent smile across your face.

“Hey lovebirds, give us a smile!” You heard Nat shout,

You and Bucky turned your heads at the same time before the undeniable ‘click’ of a camera. You turned back shaking your head, Bucky laughed gently beside you. You gave them all the bird as you both walked away, and they eventually made a move to follow you.

-

You perched your elbows on one of the high tables skirting the side-lines, waiting for someone to get hurt. What a great job you have. The champagne flute you held managed to stop you wringing your hands nervously.

“Hi, sweetheart,” A louche voice breathed in your ear as a hand moved far lower than you appreciated, following your curves. You were not in the mood to be dealing with this tonight. You grabbed the hand, twisting it and slamming it on the table. You looked up to the man.

“Do that to me again sweetheart,” you mimicked, “and I’m going to shove your balls so far up your ass that they’ll hang either side of your tongue instead.”

You put your glass down and strode away, trying to find Bucky to ease your mind, and hoped that he looked murderous enough that any glare he sent would put anyone who looked at you the wrong way off. Before you could find him, you heard Sam’s voice in your ear.

“Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

Nat also spoke up, her silky voice full of barely concealed laughter, “I fully endorse any form of violence you wish to inflict upon that man.”

You chuckled, feeling your anger dissipate, and whispered, “Tash, you’d endorse any form of violence no matter the context,”

There was laughter filling your ear, and a buzzing of agreement. You scanned the room, subconsciously checking if Bucky was still okay when he appeared beside you.

“You okay?” His eyes scanned your face, and you gave a smile, a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding was released.

“Yeah, I’m all good, Buck. I doubt that guy will ever try that again though,” you breathed out, a whisper of a laugh present. A scowl had formed on his face, and you knew he needed a distraction before he got too caught up in planning someone’s murder, “Come on, let’s dance.”

“Dance?” He questioned.

“Yeah, you know, you move your feet in time with music, maybe even smile?”

“A smile? Don’t get ahead of yourself Doc,” Sam’s voice filled your ear once more.

“Butt out, birdbrain,” Bucky growled.

“Come on Sarge, whaddya say? For recon purposes.” You grinned at him,

“For recon purposes? Well, I can’t say no to that.” he offered his hand to you, a bright smile lightened his features before he put his own glass down and pulled you onto the dancefloor. You were focussing intently on not rolling your ankle because your knees had gone a little wobbly at his warm hand and warmer gaze that had fixed intently upon you. What you didn’t know was that it had been on you the whole evening, and he couldn’t quite get himself to stop.

On the dancefloor, you were acutely aware of Bucky’s gloved hand on your waist and his thighs brushing against yours as he expertly led you around, weaving between the other guests. Wow, you needed to get your head out of the gutter. Tony caught your eye whilst he was talking to the mayor and winked. Why did he seem to always know what was going on? Trying to concentrate on what you were actually here for, and not the movement of Bucky’s shoulder under your hand, or the tickle of his breath on your neck.

“Uh, Buck?” He hummed against you, his chest vibrating against yours, “Is it normal for people to stare unblinkingly at us?” He froze, “There’s someone at your 7 o’clock, light blue suit.”

Bucky spun you both around slowly, and spoke quietly, “I think he might have recognised me, Sam, Nat? How should we proceed?”

Your ear filled with static and then Nat’s voice, “I think you know what to do, Barnes, think Cap Pre-Berlin 2014, the mall.”

You pulled back and glanced at Bucky, “What happened in 2014?”

Bucky’s face was completely unreadable, “Sorry about this Major.”

And suddenly his lips were on yours, his right hand had moved from holding yours to on your cheek, whilst his left squeezed your waist. Automatically your left hand moved to the nape of his neck, and your lips moved against his. His unique sandalwood scent, the scent of him, filled your senses and everywhere he touched you felt like it was on fire. Before you had fully processed the kiss, and far too early for your liking, he pulled away. His ears were a bit pink, and he looked at his shoes sheepishly. You opened your mouth to say something, but Sam interrupted.

“Think you put him off alright, put me off my damn soup, jeez! You’re paying for my therapy after that!” He gave a chuckle, “Stark and Barnes, you’re on. He's headed through the door to the painting.”

You looked back up at Bucky, “You got a bit of uh- “, you swiped your thumb over his lip, “Um, lipstick,” you clarified, trying not to stumble fully over your sentence

“Bad guy, Barnes, pick up your chin”

“Thanks, Tony,” grumbled Bucky, but he still didn’t move, his eyes not leaving your face and you could almost see the cogs whirring in his brain.

You whispered to him, pushing lightly on his chest, “Go catch the bad guy, Sarge, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Right, bad guy, yeah,” and he went to the door with purpose, and you had to prevent yourself from saying something else you might regret. You knew there was something between you, there was attraction (you had caught him looking more than once), but you’re scared if you begin to care a whole lot more, that it might break you when he got hurt. Maybe it would change the team dynamic, or you could be used as leverage and a ploy against him. There were many potential downfalls if you admitted your feelings. It also terrified you that someone might be able to see underneath your toughened exterior. He might be attracted to the idea of you, the person on the outside, without knowing what he's getting on the inside.

“Hey Doc,” Nat’s voice cut through your downward spiral, “Think they might need some help down in the side room.”

You walked as quickly as you could without arousing suspicion towards the corridor. As the noise of the main hall died down, the clicks of your heels felt obnoxiously loud, something was off.

“Bucky? Tony?” you called out down the corridor, wondering where they had gone. If only you had looked at the blueprints before, guess that’s karma for not paying attention during the briefing. Tony would have your ass later. A large forearm closed around your neck, crushing your windpipe, and you convulsed, trying to get some air into your lungs.

A deep voice rumbled behind you. "No time for that. " His voice reverberated through your body, making you shudder at its malice. As your vision started to tunnel, Nat’s voice was in your ear, saying something you couldn’t work out. It sounded like you were underwater. Nat. Her knife. You moved your hand to your holster and pulled out the knife, sharply jabbing it into the guys leg, aiming for any artery you could find. He yelled out in pain and dropped you. Falling to your knees you gasped for air, taking long deep breaths and trying to calm yourself. The guy was now lying next to you, twitching. You knew in a couple of minutes he would bleed out and die, but at this point you were too thankful to care. When he finally lay still, you reached over and pulled out the knife, trying not to look at his paled face and shocked eyes. You had never quite got used to taking a life, no matter how necessary, it was never a pleasant ordeal. You were in the business of saving them, felt upside down doing the opposite. As you stood up Bucky hurled around the corner.

“What happened? Are you okay? Who’s this guy? Natasha said you weren’t answering comms and we got scared. I thought something might have happened to you,” he stopped, looked at the bloody knife in your hands and his face moved slowly back to your face, more questioning now, “Where did that come from?”

“A woman never tells,” you winked, hiding your fear behind a façade of calm, and slowly slid the knife back into its place on your thigh. Tony rounded the corner.

“Bad guy won’t be getting away, that’s for sure,” he regarded the body at your feet with a look of surprise and mild amusement, “I’m going to tell Sam he really doesn’t want to mess with you.” He brushed past you and Bucky, before adding finally, “Cops are on their way, I’m going to enjoy the free booze!” And with a wave, he was out of sight.

You wrung your hands and said to Bucky, not quite looking at him, “I’m going to head home, you’re more than welcome to stay here though.”

“Nah, I’ve outdone my social interaction quota for the month, I’ll drive you.”

Once more, you heard Sam pipe up in your ear, “Anyone still bothering you Major? I can come in and kick their ass for you, I’ve been told I’m quite adept at it.”

“Just a one old man, around 6”2? 260lbs? He has a bionic arm, but I reckon I can handle him Wilson, thanks for the offer.”

“Yes ma’am,” came the reply.

Bucky feigned offense before taking your hand, squeezing it twice before wrapping his arm around your shoulder and helping you in the direction of the car. You leaned on his shoulder, thankful for the solidity of it and its ever-present stability for you. As he placed a soft kiss on the crown of your head you decided that your feelings for him were a problem for future you, present you was going to enjoy his company without feeling guilty.

New York Times

Art thief found tied upside down with his own trousers, is now threatening to sue the Avengers and well-known billionaire Tony Stark. More on page 4.

  Chapter 5

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[imaginefan]

Preferences - what your first huge fight was about and how you got back together after ? with dean winchester (spn), draco malfoy, Hermione granger, ron weasley (harry potter), iron man, spiderman, bucky barnes (Marvel), reid spencer (criminal minds), stiles stilinski (teen wolf)

Dean Winchester

Your first fight with Dean was about your safety and it ended with him locking you in a room while he went on the hunt with Sam when he got back you refused to talk to him, you walked out of your shared bedroom “Hey where are you going?” He asked. “I need to think about whether this relationship is worth being locked up for the rest of my life.” You glared as you walked away from him.

You found yourself in the library where you laid across the sofa looking up at the ceiling, you knew that he wanted you to be safe but there were better ways of getting that and you refused to be treated like some 16th-century princess but the truth of the matter was that you weren’t angry about it anymore you just wanted to be sure that he understood that he did something wrong and when you heard him clear his throat you refused to look at him. “I’m sorry.” He sighed. “For?” You asked. “For locking you up, that was wrong, I was just so scared that I was going to lose you.” He explained and you nodded. “Look I don’t care why you did it I just need you to promise me that it’s never going to happen again.” You ordered and he nodded. “Words.” “I promise that it will never happen again.” He said as he slowly approached you when he was close enough you opened your arms allowing him to settle in a hug.

Draco Malfoy

You and Draco’s first fight was about his need to keep up his status, you overheard him talking to his friends and at first, it was the normal house rivalry stuff but before long he started saying things that you really didn’t appreciate so instead going to meet him like you were supposed to you hung out with some friends and stayed as far away from him as possible.

The next day he caught up to you in the hall “Why didn’t you come?” He asked. “I don’t think you want to spend your time with this of a lowly house member.” You answered and he frowned before his eyes widened in realisation. “I didn’t mean it like that.” He said and you rolled your eyes. “No one ever does.” You glared as you walked away going to sat at your house table with your friends pretending that nothing had happened.

Later that day you were in the library the book you wanted was little to high for you to reach, you were about to grab your wand when someone leaned up behind you grabbed it for you “Thanks.” You said and as you turned you wished you hadn’t said anything. “Wait.” He said gently grabbing your wrist, you looked back at him and rolled your eyes. “What?” You asked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, I was just saying what they wanted to here, I’m sorry.” He said again and you looked at the floor, this was a stupid thing to end a relationship over, you really did like him he was just ruff around the edges is all so you sighed and twisted your wrist until you could lace your fingers together and he smiled as he followed you to a table where you could finish your work.

Hermione Granger

You knew that Hermione was stressed but that wasn’t going to be something that she was going to let you get away with talking to you the way that she did, she’d barely spent any time with you and when she did she snapped at you so you decided to avoid her, the boys noticed instantly and even tried to fix it for her but you wanted an apology from her despite their hard work.

When she finally did realise that she hadn’t seen you in a long time she came looking for you and when she found you, you didn’t say anything “Where have you been?” She asked. “Around.” You answered. “I guess our paths just haven’t crossed.” “So you're avoiding me?” She asked. “It seemed that you didn’t want me around.” You answered and she frowned. “I never said that.” She argued. “You didn’t say that in words.” You corrected “everything else about these past few days has.” “I never meant for you to feel that way.” Hermione said and you raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry.” “You better be because I’m not tolerating this again.” You informed her and she nodded a smile taking over her face.

Ron Weasley

Ron and Harry were fighting and you saw both sides of the argument, you and Hermione were stuck in the middle and you were sick of it so you said that you would talk to Ron if she spoke to Harry.

“Hey, Ron!” You called as you wrapped your arm around his and he smiled. “Me, Hermoine and Harry were thinking about going to Hogsmeade you want to come?” “No.” He answered his voice dropping as he attempted to pull away. “Is this because of Harry?” You asked. “This is all getting a bit out of hand don’t you think?” “What? Now you're on his side?” He asked. “What when did I say that?” You frowned “I’m sick of being in the middle of this stupid fight that’s all.” You pulled yourself away from him and walked away after that. Ron to find you a few hours later “I… We’re not fighting anymore.” He informed you. “Oh good for you.” You muttered as you continued writing notes that were supposed to be for him. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to be a jerk.” He said and you looked at him. “I sort of overreacted anyway.” You shrugged. “Let’s just pretend it didn’t happen.” You suggested and he nodded liking that idea.

Ironman/ Tony Stark

For the longest time, Tony didn’t have anyone but himself to look out for and so when you became a permanent part of his life he often forget that you were entitled to part of his time too, you weren’t asking for too much you knew how important his work was, you just wanted one night to yourselves, that was where the argument started.

“We only went out yesterday.” He complained and you looked at him. “That was a company party for your work, I barely saw you.” You argued and he rolled his eyes. “What do you want me around 24/7?” He asked and you raised an eyebrow. “No actually, one night a week would be fine.” You corrected. “I’ve got more important things to do.” He answered. “More important?” You asked. “Of course.” He stepped forward but you stepped back maintaining the distance “no-no, it’s fine I didn’t mean to get in the way.” Then you were gone.

Tony spent a couple of days trying to convince your friend that he was there to apologise but she wasn’t letting him in so he waited until you left for work one day before he grabbed you, you knew it was him and it angered you a little bit “Tony Stark put me down!” You ordered. “Sure thing.” He said as he dropped you on the roof of the nearest building. “Excuse me,” You glared as you attempted to walk past him to the first exit. “Your friend wouldn’t let me see you, you’ve got a good bodyguard, maybe we should hire her.” He tried to joke. “I’m late for work.” You informed him. “I need you to stand still for a minute so that I can tell you that I never should have said what I did and I didn’t even mean it, nothing is more important than you, what I was working on was for you, to keep you safe because you insist on being with me.” He explained. “You were making something for me?” You asked. “Nothing was working and I was frustrated because I wanted you to be safe.” He answered. “Why didn’t you say that?” You asked. “It’s hard for me to admit that I can’t get anything.” He answered honestly and you smirked. “Is that so?” You asked. “Ah, there she is.” He cheered “now you don’t need work come on we’re going for a day on the town. Anything you want you name it.”

Spiderman/ Peter Parker

Peter never really showed any regard for himself and that made you worry, he was always throwing himself into the front line and most of the time he got really badly hurt because of it one night he crawled through your window really beat up and that was where you found yourself wishing that he would take better care of himself.

You gently wiped at the cut on his check your face was cold and Peter couldn’t read what you were feeling “does this hurt?” You asked after a second. “N-no I’m okay.” He answered. “Are you okay?” “I’m fine, I’m not the one that’s been thrown around all night.” You answered as you finished cleaning him up and walking into the bathroom where you started to wash your hands off, scrubbing at you skin as if his blood was burning you, you didn’t even hear him walk into the bathroom after you his hands wrapping around yours as the tear caused ripples in the water that had gathered in the sink. “You're not okay.” He said softly. “You should be resting.” You scolded him. “I’ll rest when you're with me.” He wagered “we both need rest.” “I’ll be there in a second.” You said trying to move away from him but he caught you around the waist. “We’re both going.” He insisted pulling you with him but the second that you were laying in bed you were too tired to be angry and you knew that he was doing it for all the right reasons. “I’ll be more careful.” He promised. “Don’t make promises that you can’t keep.” You said softly. “Those are the best kind.” He said pressing a kiss to the top of your head “but this time I mean it, I’ll be more careful, I don’t like seeing you like this and if I can prevent it I will.”

Bucky Barnes

Your first argument was because you didn’t listen properly, there were two occasions where this could have been avoided but you missed both instead you were pacing the living room worrying because you thought that he was supposed to have landed 3 hours ago. The door opened and your heartbeat out of your chest, there was rustling before you saw him turn into the room. “Hey.” He smiled. “Hey! Hey! Is that all you have to say!?” You asked. “What’s happened?” He asked shooting forward to look around the room, nothing seemed out of place he was confused. “Do you know how much I worried about you?” You asked. “I called you every day and I’m home now.” He frowned genuinely confused. “You were supposed to land 3 hours ago.” You finally said and he honestly had a heart attack as he looked at the nearest clock before frowning. “Baby I was supposed to land at 2 and it takes me an hour to get home.” He answered, gesturing to the clock that read 3:15pm. “You said that you-” “Were landing at 2, I remember because you asked me twice.” He smirked down at you, your eyes widened as you remembered the conversation that he was referencing. “God I’m an idiot.” You muttered hitting the heel of your hand against your forehead, he smiled softly taking your hands and wrapping them around his next before wrapping his arms around your waist. “My idiot.” He winked. “You're lucky I’m too embarrassed to fight you right now.” You warned him but he just laughed.

Spencer Reid

Spencer was bad with understanding and processing feelings, this you knew and you knew that he was getting better but there were times when he had trouble and your first argument was more like him yelling at you while you waited for him to calm down, you weren’t ever really sure what had caused it “and then she just walked away, they all just left me there!” He complained and you frowned. “Who are we talking about again?” You asked. “JJ!” He yelled and you nodded. “I’m sure she was just joking…” You shrugged him off and he frowned. “How do you know?” He asked. “Because she texted me.” You answered handing him the phone that explained the joke that the girls were playing. “Oh.” He handed back the phone. “Do you feel better now?” You asked and he nodded sitting down. “Good.”

Stiles Stilinski

Stiles was reckless everyone knew it and everyone saw it but the moment that you did the same thing it was time to hit the roof and that was where this argument started. “You can’t just run into the middle of a fight like that!” Stiles complained and you looked at him and glared. “You mean like you do!?” You asked and he frowned. “That’s not what I do.” He argued. “No that’s not what you do with your baseball bat and your Jeep?” You asked, he opened his mouth to continue arguing but nothing came to him. “That’s what I thought.” You left after that.

When your doorbell rang you rolled your eyes and opened the door, Stiles was standing there with a teddy was too big for the doorframe and a huge smile “I’m really sorry.” You tried to keep the smile off your face as he continued. “I never meant to make you feel like there was double standards, I just wanted you to be safe.” “And I you.” You admitted and he nodded. “I’ll watch your back if you watch mine.” He suggested and you nodded in agreement. “That could work.” You decided.

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Rocking the Boat Chapter 10

Supernatural 

Link to Chapter 9 

Words: 1,617

Pairings: Gabriel x Reader/ Dean x Cas

_________

The next morning you woke up to no Gabriel. He really had to be mad not come back last night. You were still baffled as to why he got so angry about you wanting to know more about his past. Maybe it was the fact that you called him out on his womanizing ways? His past didn't matter to you but you would like to have known about it. In your opinion, you had that right...didn't you?

Walking into the kitchen, Kali stood in front of the stove. The last thing that you wanted to see or deal with this moaning was Kali. What if she started trying to “mother” you? Ugh, there was no way that you could handle that! You immediately sighed and sat down beside Jack. The Nephilim looked at you with his usual warm smile.

“So...what is she doing?”

Jack smiled again. He checked over his shoulder to make sure that the goddess in the kitchen was busy. Kali stood with Dean's “kiss the chef” apron on and was looking extremely proud of herself over something.

“Making your breakfast.”

“Making my breakfast?”

You questioned. Jack nodded. He motioned to Kali with his head.

“Yes, she told everyone to leave her alone while she cooked. The fire alarm hasn’t gone off so I guess we are good. Dean gave me the fire extinguisher to be safe. I think that I have figured out how it works.”

You chuckled at that. Jack was definitely growing on you. The kid wasn’t as awkward as you thought that he was. You couldn't help but internally sigh when looking at him. Jack reminded you so much of a combo of Cas and Gabriel. The Gabriel was innocent and didn't have the cares ridding on him that he did now.

“Where is Gabriel?”

Jack questioned. You shrugged.

“Beats me.” 

Jack was quiet for a few moments before speaking again. He wanted to make sure that he asked the best questions. The last thing that he wanted to do was upset you more.

“Is that why the two of you were fighting last night?”

“Oh Christ, everyone heard that?”

You asked before putting your head down on the table. 

“Gabriel has never done well with confrontation.” 

You looked up as Kali sat down an overcooked waffle in front of you. Kali seemed totally pleased with herself. You glanced over the woman’s shoulder to see the kitchen in total disarray. Jack was clearly as surprised as you! His eyes widened before silently laughing. 

“Yeah, we’ll he’ll tun back up eventually...I hope.”

You muttered. Kali patted your head and walked away. 

“I am getting ready to meet up with some of my friends. If you ever have time to hang out...feel free to call me. I took the liberty of putting my number in your phone.”

You put on your best fake smile. 

“Fine.” 

When Kali left, Jack tapped your plate and made a fresh waffle appear. You smiled as Jack offered you a fist bump. 

“Thanks, Jack. I was not about to eat whatever that was that she gave me.”  

Jack gave you an expression of total understanding. 

“She offered to fix me a bowl of cereal except she left out the cereal. I just had a bowl of milk.” 

Rolling your eyes, you stood up. 

“Want me to fix you something?”

Jack shook his head. 

“Nah, I don’t eat much. Thank you though. I am just taking my bowl of milk to the kitchen.” 

You spent the remainder of the morning cleaning the kitchen that Kali had destroyed. 

What the hell was she using to cook those waffles? Did she not know that there was Eggos in the freezer? It would have made the “clean up” a lot easier! 

“Hey.” 

You looked up from the last bit of dried up goo to Gabriel. The archangel stood in the doorway looking at you with a wary expression. You put down the sponge that you were holding. 

“Hey.”

You said back and started scrubbing the spot of goo again. Gabriel remained silent and watched you for a moment. He was surprised that you hadn’t started questioning where he was.  

“So what are you doing?””

You shrugged. 

“Cleaning up after Kali decided to play Gordon Ramsay. She’s gone by the way.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow 

“You didn’t eat what she fixed did you?”

You laughed bitterly. 

“No way I was about to eat that deep-fried doorstop. I like myself too much.”

Gabriel smirked. 

“Sugar, we need to talk about last night.” 

You didn’t look up for a moment. 

“You need to talk. I didn’t do anything. You were the one being with the stick shoved up their ass...not me.”

Gabriel muttered “crap” under his breath. He shoved have known that you were going to be feisty and sarcastic.

“Yeah, I guess I did have a stick shoved up my ass. I was mad because I…Y/n what does any of that matter?! I am here. I’m back because I loved you.”

Gabriel stood balling his hands into fists. The fact that you weren’t even looking at him was making him nutty! This was making every ounce of PTSD that was still left in Gabriel come simmering back to the surface. The two of you never fought ...not until you wanted to go back with your family. If the two of you had just stayed on your own then none of this would be happening!  

“You were screaming at my face, Gabriel. Sure, that isn’t something that we should talk about. Okay...what do I know? I forgot that I am just an ignorant child that knows nothing about the world…”

Gabriel’s mouth fell.

“No hold on a minute, little lady!”

“Little lady?!”

You questioned and looked up as Sam and Dean walked in freezing the conversation. 

“Hey, we’re back.”

Sam said with a smile. You met Gabriel’s cold glare a moment before turning to your father and freezing. Dean stood holding a very young baby.

“Um...okay.”

You said, curiously. This was definitely the last thing that you expected Dean to be hauling in! 

“Dad, is that a baby?”

Dean nodded as the baby started to make noises. You glanced over your shoulder at Gabriel. He looked as confused as you did. 

“Yes, yes it is.”

Dean said. You scratched your head in confusion.

“Where did you get a baby? A better question is where is the kid's parents? We can’t just be stealing people’s kids!”

Dean rolled his eyes.

“Oh please! We didn’t steal it! She belongs to a lady that we exercised a demon out of. She needs some time to relax and heal up. We offered to keep an eye on little Molly here. She kinda reminds me of you as a baby. Ah, the days when you weren’t so mouthy and didn’t have an archangel.”

Dean chuckled at the glare on Gabriel’s face. You, meanwhile, had wandered over and was looking at the baby. 

“So...what do we do with her? I mean, we don’t have baby stuff around here.”

Dean grinned. 

“If you will keep an eye on the kid, Sam and I are going to load up on baby goods.” 

You awkwardly took the squirming baby into your arms. Adjusting the baby, you looked down at her little round face. Shining blue eyes looked up at you before yawning. 

“She smells like a bottle of baby lotion.” 

You muttered before snuggling your face again the baby’s little nearly bald head.

“She’s really cute. Kind of makes me want one. Hey, look at that my ovaries do work.” 

Sam, Dean, and Gabriel all looked alarmed at that comment. Gabriel and Dean more so than Sam. Dean quickly stepped out. 

“She’s only staying a few days and this place isn’t able to handle two Nephilim.”

Dean snapped. Gabriel held his hands up. 

“No! No way in fucking hell! I will sell myself back to Asmodeus, providing he was still alive, before I go creating a Nephilim! Y/n give the kid to Sam and tell your ovaries to hush!”

Gabriel vanished from the room without another word! The last thing that he was about to do was sit around and watch you fall in love with a kid. There would be no way that he would even consider letting you mention the words “Gabriel, I want a baby. “ 

(meanwhile)

You stood in the same place that you were when Gabriel vanished. Dean and Sam exchanged weird looks. 

“So what was that?”

Dean questioned. You adjusted the baby in your arms. 

“Gabriel and I are having our first big fight. Might want to get the camera.” 

Dean tilted his head with a frown. 

“Your first fight?”

You nodded. 

“Hard to believe, huh? What can I say...neither of us like drama.”

Dean started laughing. 

“Don’t like drama? You can throw down an argument better than I can! I don’t want to get in on this but you do need to turn your ovaries off. I am too young to be a grandpa and I don’t want you having a baby with Gabriel. Take care of that kid. Give it in an hour, your ovaries will stop working when you have to change a poopy diaper.” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“You know that I don’t want kids, dad. Hunting is my life.”

Dean reached out and patted your head. 

“We’ll be back in a jiffy.” 

________

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[monsters-demons-and-ai-oh-my]

What We Lost and What We Have:

Chapter 6:  Sock puppets, stomachaches, and what you really learn in college

In which we meet a very strange nurse, talk about teen drug use and the plot thickens.

TW: Conversations about recreational drugs, questions about suicidal intentions, and brief mention of throwing up

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AU somewhat inspired by Episode 2x20 - What Is and What Should Never Be, and the season 14 storyline concerning Jack’s illness.

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AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

First Chapter

Complete Tumblr Chapter List

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Sam and Dean both decided to give the Kline’s a little space after after the incident with Jack’s lunch tray. Ironically both brothers using the excuse that they hadn’t had anything to eat since they arrived early that morning.

Jack seemed on the verge of mortified tears afterward and for selfish reasons or not neither wanted to be the one to push him over the edge.

The kid was already embarrassed enough.

The doctor had told the brothers (much to Dean’s chagrin) that at least one of them should come back in later that evening as they had a few more background questions for all of them once Jack had a chance to rest.

There was only so much the doctor was willing to do when they still didn’t know what was causing Jack’s symptoms but when Jack’s nausea refused to fade and several more bouts dry heaving literally drove Jack to tears they finally gave him anti-nausea drugs that had the added benefit of finally putting him back to sleep.

Getting a few hours of rest (plus something new the doctor gave him via IV to help with the fact he hadn’t eaten for a day and a half) seemed to perk Jack up a bit. At the very least Jack seemed a lot more calm when he woke up around three hours later.

Though, that could have also been the low dose of narcotic painkillers doctor Hannah also decided to give despite the risks when Jack’s stomach pain was bad enough to cause his heart rate to skyrocket.

It wasn’t enough narcotics to make Jack start accusing innocent staff members of being out to suck his blood again, but it was enough to render him quiet and subdued… and not at all like the Jack Castiel knew.

-

‘He could only watch and try to comfort Jack as he got sick and then hugged his stomach, literally crying with the pain the action caused him…’

-

A quiet Jack was better than a sobbing Jack, but it still terrified Cas.

It threw him back to sixteen years previously when Jack was first born, made him feel like he was failing Kelly all over again…

He remembered when Jack was four and a half and afraid of long clawed demons under his bed. ( strangely specific child that he was ) Then Castiel could consol him and promise to protect him from any monsters .

When Jack was seven and John died and Jack tried to run away from home, ( only getting so far as the neighbor down the street who lured him in with cookies and called Castiel ) he’d been able to reassure the traumatized boy that his parents and the people around him didn’t die because he was close to them.

-

“...you’re not cursed Jack, I promise… and I’m not planning on leaving you alone any time soon.”

-

But this…

Castiel couldn’t promise everything would be okay, he didn’t know how to fix this, he didn’t even know what this was…

Every little twitch Jack gave in his sleep, every harsh intake of breath was like an electric jolt to Cas’s heart, terrifying him that Jack would start seizing again.

By the time that Jack was awake again and Cas was able to call the Winchester’s back in he was thirty-six hours without sleep and felt on the verge of a mental breakdown.

“Med student party here yet?” Cas heard the now unfortunately familiar voice of Dean Winchester over his shoulder.

“No…” Cas said dully, hand tightening over Jack’s as he broke into another fit of harsh wheezy coughs.

-

‘The antibiotics either weren’t helping the pneumonia or were taking far too long to kick in for comfort.’

-

“I...I don’t really feel up to p-party,” Jack muttered with a tiny wry smile.

“You feeling any better buddy?” Sam’s voice was a little more tolerable.

“They gave me more drugs?” Jack said bluntly, perhaps the amount of pain meds he was given was still enough to make the teenager a more aloof if not completely loopy.

As scared as Jack must be Cas didn’t have it in him for him to be upset with Jack being a little… high, as it were.

-

‘Anything to keep away the horrible tears of pain.’

-

“They’re waiting for me to let them know you’re here…” Cas explained quickly to the brothers reaching for the nurse call button and using the moment to compose himself.

“I thought we were done with all the questions?” Dean sighed pacing by the window like nervous rather unimpressive tomcat not looking at anyone.

“Well apparently they didn’t get what they needed last time.” Cas tried not to think that more questions meant the doctors were at a loss with what answers they did get.

“It probably had something to do with you ‘scaring the crap’ out of the person who was recording them…” Cas glared choosing to believe that instead.

Dean’s eyes narrowed for a moment and he opened his mouth as if to say something scathing but Sam surprised Castiel by speaking up.

“Well whatever the reason pointing fingers won’t help anyone,” Sam said taking Dean’s old spot by the far end of the bed. It seemed like while Sam was rendered relatively unable to function when it came to Jack that same reservations did not stand for confronting his argumentative older brother or Castiel.

“So how about this time we all sit down, and shut up, and get this over with and then neither of you will have to see each other again if you don’t want to…” Sam said with an air of aggressive calm, folded his hands in his lap.

Jack eyes seemed to dart between each one of them tense and nervous, clutching at the sheets without a word.

Castiel felt a pang of guilt in his chest.

He and Dean took their seats… quietly.

They sat awkwardly like two children who’d just been chewed out by the principal until the silence was broken by a knock on the door.

Well… a series of knocks… to the tune of… Yankee Doodle?

Jack’s eyes darted between his uncle and the door like he wasn’t sure if he actually heard what he thought he heard or if the drugs were just kicking in.

“Come in?” Castiel said hesitantly.

The door opened and in stepped not the nervous med student, but another more suspicious looking individual.

Another… nurse?

“Hello,” said the strange skinny man in seemingly oversized giraffe print scrubs. He had a smile about as appropriate for the tense atmosphere as sunbather in a snowstorm, “My name is Garth but you can call me nurse Fitzgerald and I’m here to help Jack and you all with a patient history today.”

Dean shot Sam a confused look that was ignored.

“What happened to the other g-guy?” Jack hacked into the back of his hand, looking wary of having yet another stranger in his room.

"Well, Kevin was having a bit of a hard time, so the head nurse wanted someone with a bit more experience to finish it,” Nurse Fitz-… Garth shrugged the left sleeve of his scrubs dangerously close to sliding off his narrow shoulder, “they send me in when things get a little hinky,"

"Hinky?" Castiel's eyebrows rose.

"Well I say hinky," Garth smiled, "I think it's a much nicer word than the one nurse Master's used... that I won't use in front of a child.

The child in the room looked mildly offended.

"Or what was written on the chart," he picked up Jack’s chart clipboard off the end of the bed and flicked it significantly, “which is… ''disorderly"."

Dean scoffed, "Please, we weren't "disorderly”,” he drew quotation marks in the air.

The strange skinny man just continued to smile shrugging, "okay well you made poor Kevin cry in the on-call room so I wouldn't exactly call that "functional behavior"."

Dean’s mouth opened looking defensive but for a second time the words were lost behind an interruption.

“Sorry…” Jack said quietly, clearing his throat, “they… they mean well… I think…”

“We should… probably apologize to this Kevin though…” Castiel said sheepishly.

“Probably…” Dean muttered noncommittally refusing to look at Castiel.

“What’s that?” Sam spoke up suddenly sounding confused, everyone turning to see at what he pointing at.

I appeared to be a strange looking… sock with lips? hanging of Nurse Garth’s scrubs pocket.

“Oh him?” the nurse pulled the object out his pocket smiling at it fondly before slipping it over one hand, “This… is Mr. Fizzles.”

He opened and closed the sock puppet’s mouth in Jack’s general direction as the boy looked on warily pressed against his pillows.

“A lot of kids find a friend easier to talk to than a stranger, especially when in a big scary place like the hospital.”

He looked at Jack expectantly.

“I...I think I’ll pass…” the teenager said turning a little pink.

Garth seemed mildly disappointed but shrugged and surreptitiously tucked the sock back in his pocket picking back up the chart.

“Well Kevin’s handwriting started getting illegible at… drugs…” he looked up expectantly at Castiel’s affronted face.

“He had a tablet of ibuprofen about seven hours before the seizure and then a second four hours later, but no Jack does not do drugs,” Castiel said flatly.

“I think… he was asking Jack…” Sam said carefully watching Jack who was refusing to look back, scratching at the adhesive over the line in his arm.

“I don’t… do drugs…” Jack said quietly.

Castiel gave nurse Garth a satisfied “see” look.

“But there was… this one time,” Jack coughed sheepishly.

Everyone was suddenly staring at Jack who seemed to be trying to disappear into his hospital mattress.

“Jack…” Cas’s heart sunk more disappointed than angry, he didn’t have a chance to ask why before Jack cut him off seeming desperate to explain.

“It… it was just one time… Noah offered me a hit?” his eyebrows drew together and he looked unsure at the terminology, “of a joint he had?”

Dean gave an impressive little huff earning him a dirty look from Cas.

“Don’t look at me, I didn’t go to college…” Dean shrugged, shooting Sam a knowing smile he refused to return.

“It was just the one time though!” Jack said quickly looking at Cas pleadingly, “It was really, really gross and… and I never did it again!”

“Why wouldn’t you tell me?” Castiel asked exasperated, trying not to show Sam or Dean how hurt he was. What made it worse was he knew how stereotypical it was for a parent to think their teenager would never lie to them. Half the parent teacher conferences he had to call at the high school were dealing with people under such delusions.

“I… I didn’t want to get Noah in trouble…” Jack mumbled biting his lip and refusing to look Cas in the eye.

“Noah?” Castiel mentally ran over his shortlist of acquaintances Jack talked about and came up empty. “Wait… Noah Ophis?” Castiel felt completely at a loss when Jack’s blush seemed to confirm it, “Jack… wasn’t Noah the one who locked you in the school gym’s weight room and then stuck gum in the lock so we had to call maintenance to disassemble the door to get you out?”

“It… was never confirmed…” Jack muttered turning brighter red glancing back between his older brothers as if expecting them to laugh.

“How long ago did you ‘get silly with Mary Jane’?” Garth broke in on the tense moment seeming unbothered.

Jack looked extremely confused for a long moment, “Six… months ago?”

Garth wrote that down, “well it’s probably not that then, the devil’s lettuce only lasts like… a few hours, unless you snort it that’s worse...”

Castiel really did not believe that was an actual way people consumed marajauna… he had gone to college after all.

Cas suppressed the need to start in on a long speech about peer pressure, lying, and the dangers of underage recreational drug use (especially when you didn’t know the source), but now was not the time, not now with as Jack as sick as he was. He would be taking advantage of a secret Jack only willingly told because he was scared for his own safety, and Jack’s health might rely on him being honest with his doctors.

Though Cas was relieved when the next question was, just “Do you have any animal friends?”

-

He felt his confidence as a surrogate parent had taken enough of a hit for the moment.

-

“Well… I have Felix… but I don’t know if he thinks of me as a friend, I’ve read their brains can’t really process that sort of thing?” Jack’s eyebrows furrowed in thought.

Sam’s eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline.

Maybe the drugs had a stronger effect on Jack than Castiel first realized.

“What is Felix?” Sam looked completely at a loss.

Jack blinked, “A corn snake,” he said like it should be obvious.

Dean seemed to recoil slightly and then snorted, a very, “of course I’m going to judge the character of a kid I don’t know based on the fact he keeps a snake…” noise.

That was a big mistake… Castiel knew Jack was fairly shy but he’d been on the wrong end of one of Jack’s, “I must defend the honor of snakes everywhere,” speeches before when the Jack was first trying to convince his uncle to let him keep Felix.

“Felix is really great!” he insisted, probably louder than he should have judging by the short fit of coughs that followed. He cleared his throat before croaking, “N-not only do corn snakes eat d-disease carrying pests, they're really gentle, and they’re easy to breed in captivity, and they’re from the US so they... they don’t c-contribute to the… the e-exotic pet trade…”

Castiel remembered vividly Jack showing up in his classroom clutching a shoe box the day before winter break, nervous but determined. He’d gone into a spiel about how a boy had brought the snake to the lunch room to show it off but the boy was planning to kill it at the end of the day with a rock because he thought it was ‘kinder’.

“He said he couldn’t get it to eat, but! he only tried one thing and... and you can’t let him do that, he doesn’t deserve that…”

He’d practically begged Castiel to let him keep the snake, “even if it was just for a little while,” and then spent the next week researching and trying to feed it different things, bringing everything from bags of frozen mice to eggs and minnow into the house before he’d had success.

Cas remembered the huge grin on Jack’s face when he finally succeeded heard him whisper, “see you’re going to be okay now,” into Felix’s enclosure when he thought his uncle wasn’t watching.

Jack dissolved into another fit of coughing near the end of his snake rant, doubling up as Castiel laid a worried hand on his shoulder.

“Fine fine kid jeez…” Dean raised his hands in mock surrender, looking mildly alarmed, “I believe you, don’t lose a lung over it…”

“Snakes are great you’re just a mean,” Jack muttered breathily with one laugh hacking cough, sinking wearily back in his bed. The short bout of passion seemed to have taken a lot out of him.

“I don’t really like snakes, I’m sure they’re great but the way they look at me makes me nervous y'know?” Nurse Garth Gave a shiver, no one knew what he meant. “Also they can carry salmonella…”

The nurse spent the next half hour asking more questions of various degrees of embarrassment. Each answer the brother’s gave grew increasingly bored and each answer Jack gave getting softer as he grew increasingly drowsy.

Any energy Jack gained by resting seemed to run out of him like water through a sieve and soon he had fallen back asleep. Castiel knew seizures could take a lot out of a person but this? This felt different. He breathed deeply to calm himself down, told himself he never finished nursing school, let alone medical school like the doctor’s taking care of Jack.

-

‘He was in good hands…’

-

He carefully straightened Jack’s blankets, trying not to listen to the wheezy quality of Jack’s breathing even in sleep.

“Did you get all the answers you needed?” Castiel asked quietly, not wanting to interrupt and of the sleep the boy managed to get.

The nurse smiled looking a little too pleased with himself, “yup just about the entire thing, I don’t know what Kevin was upset about you all seem like very nice people.”

Dean looked up mildly guilt pulling his hand back from where he’d been trying to fish the sock puppet out of Garth’s pocket, while Sam hid his face in his hands. “Yeah… um… so it’s fine for us to take off now?”

-

‘Of course…’

-

Garth nodded satisfied, “yeah, visiting hours for everyone but parents are ending soon, and the kid looks like he’s had all the fun he can handle for today.”

Castiel just nodded in agreement trying not to seem to eager carefully fixing Jack’s mussed up hair, “I think he’s had enough of strangers for now…”

That was enough for Dean who left with one last indignant puff of air but Sam stayed back for a moment tettering as was his custom in the doorway.

“Call if something changes?” he asked, like he was half unsure he should say the words.

Cas offered a tight smile, “sure…”

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

Sam and Dean left for their home and hotel respectively the nurse leaving soon after to give Castiel and more importantly Jack some time to rest.

The nurses mostly let Jack be through the evening only coming in once or twice to record his vitals and give him more of the drugs the doctor prescribed earlier, Jack thankfully remained asleep during the visits.

He seemed mostly stable much to Cas’s relief though that could have just been due to the pain and nausea meds masking the worst of his symptoms. It wasn’t until Jack reached a full twenty-four hours without another seizure that Castiel finally let himself relax.

It wasn’t until much later, half past midnight that the doctor came in again.

Castiel had finally fallen asleep in a recliner chair one of the nurses graciously brought in when they realized he was staying with Jack for another night..

-

‘They’d explained it was standard practice for when a parent stayed with their child on the ward…’

-

He’d been woken rather unceremonious by doctor Hannah pulling a cumbersome looking machine into Jack’s room.

“What’s… What’s going on?” he asked dumbly rubbing at his face, the confusion quickly turning to alarm when he saw the look on the doctor’s face.

Her face was mostly calm, but her eyebrows were furrowed and her mouth was pressed in a thin tense line.

“I… need you to wake up Jack…” she said something worrying in her calm voice Castiel couldn’t quite identify.

Castiel immediately began to panic head snapping up to the monitor of Jack’s vitals. Everything seemed the same, except the fever which had risen to an even hundred degrees.

“Is… What’s wrong?” He asked in as hushed a tone as he could manage.

The doctor gave him a reassuring smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“I just need to check something…” she said unhelpfully.

Castiel tried to breathe evenly and remain calm as he gently shook Jack’s shoulder.

-

‘What was so bad you’d wake a sick kid in the middle of the night?’

-

He gently shook Jack’s shoulder, calling his name, Jack barely moved, his eyes twitched and he let out a soft cough.

Castiel frowned shaking his shoulder a little more forcefully eliciting an unhappy groan from Jack as he rolled away as far as the tubing on his face would allow him.

-

‘At least it was confirmation he wasn’t comatose or something…’

-

“The painkillers he’s on can have a sedative effect,” she frowned, “it’s always best to try to wake someone up naturally but I did bring something if that doesn’t work.

She produced a set of keys from her pocket to unlock the set of rolling drawers the machine she brought was propped on top of.

“Wait,” Castiel quickly held up a hand, “there’s one thing I haven’t tried yet…” he leant down close to Jack’s ear, “Jack… come on you have to get up… we’re going to be late to school…”

Jack tensed up and groaned, “I… I don’t want to, I don’t feel good…” he grumbled face screwing up.

Cas huffed a sad laugh, gently ruffling his hair to keep him from falling back out, “I know Jack, but you still need to wake up.”

Jack finally blinked woefully up at him, “you said I didn’t have to go…” His croaked eyes wandered towards the window as he coughed to clear his throat, “it’s still dark out…” he muttered bewildered.

“I know, I know… you don’t have to go to school, you can go back to sleep... in a little bit?” Cas looked back toward the doctor who offered him another thin smile, neither confirming or denying.

“But doctor Hannah she needs to talk to us… for now, alright?” Castiel said still gently squeezing his shoulder...

Jack just blinked and nodded trustingly too tired to question it.

Doctor Hannah ducked down to his level whispering, “I’m going to turn on the lights now and I need you to roll on your side like before okay?”

Jack looked wary breath speeding up, “P-please don’t stick another needle in my back…”

“It’s okay Jack, I promise I’m not going to do that honey,” she said gently flipping on a switch and making everyone in the room wincing at the sudden brightness, “I just need to run an ultrasound on your back and abdomen…”

Jack looked even more confused, face morphing into mildly suspicion, “But… I can’t have babies?”

Doctor Hannah actually chucked, “No that’s not all we use ultrasound for, and that’s not what I’m looking for…”

“What are you looking for?” Castiel couldn’t hold himself back from asking, fidgeting in the recliner.

The doctor’s face dropped a little before she could stop it, “I’ll let you know if I see it, I… I don’t want to alarm you,”

Her eyes drifted back to Jack with an unspoken, ‘or him’ .

Jack’s eyebrows furrowed but he still did as he was told and the doctor guided him onto his side before pulling down the blanket to his waist and undoing the ties on the upper half of his hospital gown while he blushed pink.

When she carefully began to probed Jack’s back it became abundantly clear the medication didn’t completely numb his pain.

He barely held back a cry of pain between clenched teeth, reducing it to a strained groan, his whole body shaking.

Castiel reach for his hand which was clenched around the bed sheets. “It’s okay Jack… I’m here.”

“Th-that… that really hurts,” Jack mumbled tearfully.

“I know Jack I know…” the doctor said seemingly lost in thought

doing her best to move quickly through prep procedures for the ultrasound. Applying a plastic cover over the wand and spreading clear gel on a portion of his back.

Jack looked like he was trying not to scream when the doctor finally pressed the ultrasound wand into his back, teeth gritted together heart rate spiking.

The doctor’s eyes were fixed on the ultrasound screen beside the bed looking grim and Castiel wished not for the first time that he’d finished his degree so he’d know what she saw.

-

‘All he could do was hold Jack’s hand.’

-

“Shit…” he barely heard the doctor mutter as she set aside the wand and gingerly wiped away the gel on Jack’s back.

There were already already tears welling in Jack’s eyes when she had him turn back onto his back.

The doctor promised to be as quick and gentle as she could as she repeated the process with the upper part of Jack’s abdomen.

Jack was shaking and crying silently by the time it was over, and the doctor was if anything quieter.Terrifyingly lost in thought.

Castiel carefully helped him back into his gown, telling him softly that he did well and could go back to sleep soon.

Jack watched the doctor red eyed and wary gripping the blankets a little too tightly even as he wilted exhausted back against the bed.

The doctor waited until the teenager seemed to have calmed back down before speaking.

“Jack… I’m going to ask your uncle and you some questions and I need you to be as honest as possible, alright?”

The tone of doctor Hannah’s voice set off the already ringing alarm bells in Cas’s mind to a shrieking pitch.

Jack nodded cautiously, “O-okay…” he said shakily.

The doctor began pacing at the foot of his bed hands clasping anxiously at one another.

“You said Jack had a headache a few hours before he had a seizure at the restaurant and that you gave him ibuprofen for it, are you sure it was ibuprofen and not aspirin?”

Castiel blinked, “yes I’m sure I know better than to give a child aspirin, and I even remember the brand I bought, it was Advil…”

“It’s was a blue... package,” Jack said after a moment coughing into his elbow, exhaustion, and illness fogging his brain.

The doctor nodded and resumed her pacing, “and… how much did you give him?” she asked seeming careful about her phrasing.

“A lower dose, one tablet… and then another four hours later…” Castiel said suspiciously, “what is this about?”

The doctor hesitated, “did you see Jack take them both times?”

There was a long pause as Jack looked increasingly upset, “wh-what are you tr-trying to say?”

“What are you suggesting?” Castiel knew full well what she was asking but he couldn’t believe he’d heard it.

“I…” she paused and sighed, “I have to ask it’s very important.”

Jack seemed to understand despite everything, “I...I wouldn’t, I couldn’t d-do that I…” his breathing sped up.

“The first thing Jack asked about when he woke up was school and needing to take care of his pet? Does that really strike you as someone who would try to… to…” Cas paused, “to hurt themselves?”

“I… I was upset and sad after what happened but…” Jack’s forehead wrinkled again as his breathing grew more frantic and his heart rate rose with it, “I wouldn’t, I didn’t do that…” he muttered eyes pleading and filling back up with tears, “please believe me.”

“I know Jack… I do believe you,” Castiel reassured him gently squeezing his shoulder.

A thought dawned on Cas and he reached for his coat still hanging off the back of his chair, “he really physically couldn’t…”

Castiel pulled a small half crushed blue box from the pocket of the coat, “I didn’t even buy a bottle of pills they didn’t have any in the hotel commissary they only had it in a box of packets and there were only four pills to start with…”

-

‘The stupid box had cost a whole ten dollars regardless.’

-

He handed it over for the doctor to see, “and there’s still two left…”

The doctor looked in the box then checked the date on the bottom, but instead of looking relieved like Cas expected…”

She just looked... frustrated?

“Alright… I’m sorry, we had to rule that out as a possibility…” she sighed.

The apology did nothing to placate Jack, who just stared at her distrustfully tears running silently down his cheeks hugging himself still breathing too fast.

Castiel tried to resist the anger and resentment building up in his own chest he knew the doctor was just doing her job, but it was late and the already ill and drug addled Jack was not tolerating being woken in the middle of the night to be painfully prodded, cross examined, and accused of hurting himself very well.

He placed a protective hopefully comforting hand on Jack’s shoulder, “couldn’t you have just tested for a possible overdose in the blood samples you took instead of coming in here past midnight and harassing him?”

“If the problem was being caused by taking too much ibuprofen it would be important to find out and treat as soon as possible.”

“W-why?” Jack mumbled hunching forward red-eyed and shaking his breath coming out in uncomfortably fast puffs, “what… what’s wrong with me?”

He looked how Castiel felt, on the verge of panic.

“Jack, it’s alright I need you to calm down…” the doctor said looking warily between him and the vitals reading on the monitor.

-

‘That didn’t calm him down.’

-

“You… you don’t know d-do you?” Jack sobbed continuing to hyperventilate, heart beating about a mile a minute on the monitors, “y-you don’t…” he coughed, the developing panic attack not helping his already labored breathing, coughing soon turning to wheezing.

Castiel’s mouth became a thin anxious line as he wrapped a supportive  arm around his shoulders.

“Jack?”

The doctor moved quickly back over to the locked set of drawers retrieving a vial and injecting something into Jack’s IV line, “it’s alright it’s okay… just try to breathe deeply Jack…”

Jack tried, leaning on his uncle tears running down his face even when his breathing slowed and he relaxed as whatever drug the doctor gave him took effect.

The doctor and Castiel gently helped him lean back into his pillows as his eyes blinked blearily, “it’s alright… just rest now… you’re alright…”

She didn’t look like even she believed what she was saying as he drifted quickly back into unconsciousness the rise and fall of his chest slowly evening back out.

Castiel felt as if a live wire was clenched between his teeth.

“What happening to Jack?” he managed an impossibly calm tone.

The doctor sighed taking a moment to steal herself before answering. “Most of the tests we have back so far… they came back inconclusive… There was no sign of meningitis or encephalitis in his spinal fluid, no… conclusive signs of infection in his blood at all…”

“But,” Castiel said feeling miles away.

“But… between the blood taken when he was first admitted and a few hours ago, we’ve found a significant increase in his liver enzymes and protein levels and if… they don’t improve in the next few hours I want to look at transferring him to Kansas University hospital…”

Castiel felt like the ground was dropping from beneath him, “and… the pain, what you were testing for just now that was…”

The doctor paused for an even longer moment before answering, “Jack’s liver and kidneys… are showing signs of inflammation… and the blood tests results are signs they’re starting to lose function…”

-

‘Failing… she meant they were beginning to fail’

-

“And you don’t know why…” Castiel mumbled numbly.

The doctor said nothing...

Notes:

Dun dun dun, and the plot thickens, hopefully the introduction of nurse Garth managed to lighten things up a bit before the darker second half and reveal.

If you enjoyed this chapter and have the time and/or inclination please let me know what you thought :) 

[shipper-trash-bag]

In the Bunker part B

“Hey, Sam. Sam! Come on, talk to me, Gabriel whined. “Pleeeease?”

Sam rolled his eyes turning in his seat to glare at Gabriel. The guy wouldn’t let up, following him around the bunker all day, currently sitting on the table top Sam was using to research into their latest case. He wanted to ignore Gabe, to be honest. He had been extra annoying as of late - and Sam wasn’t sure exactly why - putting him on edge. “What do you want?” He grumbled.

Gabriel smiled, sides of his mouth crinkling. “Ah! He speaks!” The smile didn’t meet his eyes.

“Yeah, I do. What do you want, I’m kinda busy here.”

“Well,” Gabriel clapped his hands, scooting closer to Sam, legs dangling over the edge of the table dangerously close to Sam’s crotch. “Today’s a special day. I want to go out to celebrate.”

Sam frowned. He didn’t remember any holidays today, and he’d definitely didn’t forget anyone’s birthday. Right? “Wh- What? What’s today? Do-“ he ruffled through his papers, searching for his journal and his phone. He looked through the calendar, clicking on the day, hoping for a reminder. “I- I don’t have it written down. What- is this a prank?” He turned his eyes on Gabriel, surprised to see a small frown instead of a smug smile that he usually expected from the former archangel. “Uh.. Gabe?”

“Hmm? Oh, no. It’s nothing. Never mind.” Sliding to the floor, he ran his hand through Sam’s hair, kissing his temple before walking away. Sam watched him go, confused by his behaviour but didn’t say anything.

He kept staring, even after he was gone, only turning back around at the sound of his mother clearing her throat. He was more shocked to see her shaking her head, a corner of her lip tugging up as she tried not to laugh. “What? What is it?”

“I think it’s your anniversary.”

Sam double checked the date on his phone, shaking his own head. “No... that’s not for another month. I know I marked the day..” he mumbled as he went through the calendar again, pulling up the day to show her. “See. It’s in three weeks.”

She stared him down. Lord, when did this son become as oblivious as the other? “Sam... think hard.”

“But-“ so he did. He didn’t argue with her, thinking back and trying to piece together the puzzle before him, a realization hitting him like a freight train. “Oh. Ooooh. Oh, shit. Crap. Okay. Um... would you be okay if I-“

“Go.” He stood, hugging her in the chair across him, her small hand patting his back. She slid the computer across the table and shooed him away, Sam all but sprinting out the bunker.

——-

Gabriel was disheartened that Sam forgot, sure, but there was still work to do so he did it. Jack needed help with fixing his laptop, Dean wanted to reorganize the artifacts, and the dungeon needed scrubbing after it’s last occupant exploded everywhere. It was a long day, but he didn’t really care; it took his mind off the rejection he faced this morning.

He knew it wasn’t Sam’s fault for forgetting, but he still wanted some acknowledgement from his boyfriend on the importance of the day. It didn’t matter, though, not when he was freshly showered and ready for bed. Sleeping was his new favourite pastime with Sam as human, after sex, and no one was going to take that away from him, damnit!

He practically skipped to their room, slippers clapping as he hustled down the hall. He didn’t bother knocking - it was his room too - and stopped halfway in the entry way, hand on the knob and door wide open. “Sam?”

Flower petals littered every surface, candles lit on the nightstands, a reciept for both next to the now off lamp. Sam straightened out from where he had hunched over to rearrange the petals on the bed. It was... romantic. “Hey. I uh... I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were counting today as our anniversary. I uh.. I was counting from the 12th of next month.”

Gabriel blinked at him, long and slow flutters of his eyelashes. “From.. from our first date?” Sam nodded, moving closer. “I... Yeah, no. That makes sense. I guess I just wanted today to mean something to.”

Sam cradled his lover’s face in his hands, leaning down slowly to kiss him. Gabriel stretched on his tip-toes, sealing their mouths. It was just as perfect of a kiss as it was the first time. He pulled away, smile brighter than a thousand suns. “You’re a bloody romantic, despite your image.”

“Eh, what can I say? You’re worth it.” Sam’s responding smile made his knees go week, so he wrapped his arms around his middle, happiness busting from within when Sam returned the gesture. “Have I ever said I love kissing you?”

Sam chuckled, pulling him into the room slowly, one hand closing the door behind them. “A few times.” He leaned down again, kissing his boyfriend as carefully as they kissed for the first time, exactly one year from the day. It was much gentler than their first kiss, much sweeter, too. Then again, there wasn’t the threat of death now. “Right back at ya.”

Gabe snorted, hands moving up to Sam’s hair as he slid his lips against his lover’s, reveling in the plushness. “Is this all for me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

It was Sam’s turn to snort. “You know why.”

“Tell me anyways.”

Sam rolled his eyes, pulling himself from Gabe to sit down on the bed. Like he expected, Gabriel followed, straddling his lap as soon as his ass hit the mattress. “Because I’m sorry.”

He ran short nails in Sam’s hair, kissing his teeth in annoyance. “No, not that thing.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Then do you mean the part where I love you?”

Gabriel beamed, leaning in for another kiss. “Mmm.. yeah, that part.” He licked at the seam of his mouth, groaning as Sam opened it, tongue sliding in along his. “I love you too.”

@thislumpoffuckicallabrain

[hnrywinchester]

Fare Thee Well - - 14

Summary: She hasn’t sene Gabriel since he died nine years ago, then a phone call changes everything.

Pairing: Gabriel x OFC

Series Warnings: ANGST, smut, swearing, PTSD Gabriel, Character Deaths, Canon Compliant

Beta’d by: @aquietuniverse

Words: 4.6k

“Gabe…. Gabriel.. Fuck,” Liv panted as she writhed on the mattress, two handfuls of honey blonde hair tightly wound between her fingers, “I can’t…” “You can,” he urged, his mouth relenting from her overstimulated core just long enough to get the words out before his tongue returned to it’s task, “stop resisting, and let it happen.” An exasperated groan broke free from her lips. The pressure was too much, but for some unknown reason it wouldn’t relent. Maybe she didn’t want it to end, or maybe it was because this felt different than all the other times. It almost felt too good. It was the kind of good that she feared would never be replicated, so she had to prolong it as long as she could. She also knew this wasn’t even the worst he could do. He was taking it easy on her, so why this was so mind-blowing was a mystery. Plus, it wasn’t like this exact scenario hadn’t taken place just two weeks prior. It had to be the slight hangover, or maybe the fact that they’d hadn’t really relented with each other for the past twenty four hours. She wasn’t about to tell him to stop though… Finally, she felt relief impending. That bubble in her stomach began to inflate into her chest, her fingers and toes tightening as she yanked his head to exactly where she needed it. As she cried out a string of profanities littered with his name, she felt him hum in appreciation against her, adding just enough to send one more aftershock vibrating through her. “You don’t play fair,” she panted as his lips finally released her and began kissing a trail up her stomach. “Never claimed to,” he teased, “plus, you started it. Waking me up with that sinful, oh-so-talented mouth. It actually is only fair I return the favor. So…” “Shut up.” “I don’t know what you were expecting. When have I ever left you high and dry? Well, when I’m in my right mind anyway…” “It was supposed to be just for you!” “I don’t do ‘just for me’, sweetheart. You know this. Why are you complaining, by the way? I’d ask if it was good but I already felt the answer.” “I’m not complaining…” The little pout that settled on her lips was one of the most endearing things he’d ever seen. Her flushed face and still half sleep-lidded eyes was definitely the sight he wanted to wake up to for the rest of eternity. He flopped down onto his stomach beside her, arms burying under the pillow as he laid his head down onto it, face towards her. He knew it was time to get up, it was Luci day, but another five minutes wouldn’t kill anyone. As her heart settled from one of what she hoped would be many more mornings with him, she rolled over on top of him. Her chest pressed into his back and she snaked her arms around his neck, giggling at the grunts and groans that sounded as he shifted to accommodate them. “Oh, not mad anymore?” he teased, the corners of his lips pulling up into a smile. “Guess not,” she retorted, squishing her nose against his cheek, “are you ready for today?” “‘Course. Why wouldn’t I be?” “Lucifer…” “Eh, he’s nothing.” Her stomach dropped at his words. Typical of him to not understand the gravity of a situation. She hadn’t seen the Devil since he’d “killed” Gabriel all those years ago, seeing him again was certainly going to kick up some long-repressed memories. “Baby, he isn’t nothing. Please tell me you’re taking this seriously,” she pleaded, pushing herself off of him. “I’m taking it seriously, don’t worry about me,” he replied, turning over to his back to watch her as she put her clothes back on, “Come on, I’ll make you breakfast. I sent Cassie out to get some food for this dump yesterday.” The frown on her face remained as he tried to lighten the mood. He noticed, pursing his lips as his head swayed to the side. Why couldn’t he get one day without some kind of catastrophe needing his attention? He wasn’t going to admit to her face he was just as nervous as he was when they went after him nine years ago. He hadn’t told her then either, but this plan seemed at least slightly more geared for success and with better odds. Luci wasn’t jacked up on his ego and vengeful after eons in the cage. This time would be different. “It’s gonna be fine!” Gabriel continued, getting out of bed and dressing before going to stand in front of her, “I promise.” “You can’t promise that,” she warned, glaring at him through her brows, “That’s what you said last time.” “Yeah, and last time it was fine too. Just what happened afterwards went a little south…” “Gabriel. I can’t…” “I’m not goin’ anywhere. Who dies when they have this much to live for, right?” Gently, he pulled her into his arms, tucking his chin onto the top of her head. They stayed still, minds racing. All the contentment she’d thrived in yesterday had washed away, being replaced by the vision of his wings seared into the wooden floor of that old hotel, body laid out, still and bloody. Even with his arms around her that still felt like a reality, the piece of her that only he kept together shook in its place as she recalled the years of his absence. She still hadn’t given him an answer, whether or not she would stay behind, and the question was still buzzing in the back of his mind. His own chances of making it out of there in one piece were low enough, he didn’t need to add her into the mix. Michael would be gunning for her first. “Just…” she stuttered, lifting her head to look at him. “I know,” he answered, not needing to even hear the rest. He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, feeling the tension she was holding in her neck and shoulders melt away at his gesture. Her pace picked up as the desperation set in, locking a hand into his hair as her eyebrows scrunched together. If life had taught her anything, it was that something standing right in front of you could be gone without a moment’s notice. “Hey, hey,” he cooed, pulling his head away, “look at me.” Regrettably, she opened her eyes, swallowing hard to repress tears she knew were coming. His face was soft yet strong as his hands came up to cup her face. He gave her that trademark smirk and she wished she could have said it helped ease her building anxiety, but it didn’t. “Lucifer doesn’t know what’s about to hit him. I got him, okay?” he assured, kissing her forehead, “Now, kitchen. Go.” Grabbing his hand, she led him from the bedroom. A piece of him was happy to be out of there, he had to make a point to scrub the walls clean before they slept in there again. She may not be able to read the words written there, but he could. He needed no more reminders than the ones already burned  into his memory of his time down in the pit. When they popped out of the hall and into the main area, their attention was grabbed by a large, slumped figure in the library —Sam. He was still wearing the same clothes he had the day before, setting alarms off in both of their heads. Quickly, Liv changed direction and tugged Gabriel towards the hunter. “Sam?” she asked quietly, “did you sleep?” “Uh hey. No,” Sam admitted, his lips forming into a tight line, voice heavy. “Do you want to?” Gabriel inquired, placing a hand on Liv’s lower back, “I got enough in the tank to knock you out for a few hours. Better than nothin’.” “No. Thanks though.” “You need to sleep, Sam,” Liv continued, “We have a big day.” “Yeah. Trust me. I know.” “What’s up buddy?” Gabriel chimed in, stepping a little closer to him. “Lucifer.” Gabriel nodded, tucking his lips into each other, “Can you give us a minute?” he whispered into Liv’s hair, kissing her temple afterwards. With a small smile and a nod, she took off in the direction of the kitchen, hoping that Gabriel could fix whatever was plaguing Sam . As soon as Liv was out of view, Gabriel pulled out the chair next to Sam and sat down. Sam’s eyes were tired, black circles having formed underneath, his face even more conflicted than normal. “What’d he do to you?” Gabriel finally spoke up. “Everything. When I was stuck in the cage with him for… for a year,” Sam confessed, too tired to even care it was the Trickster he was pouring his heart out to. “Yeah, I can sympathize with that first part. Never was stuck in the cage with him, heaven before he was cast out though… shit show.” Sam’s eyes changed and filled with sympathy as he looked at the archangel. Gabriels’ face was set into a sad, lopsided smile, his eyes mirroring Sam’s. Gabriel remembered those years, before Earth had been created, before Lucifer had been kicked out, anarchy began and Dad disappeared. Before he ran. “I was the youngest brother there for a little while, before pops made the seraphs. He’s always been a twisted dick, don’t know where that wiring went so wrong…” Gabriel continued. “How’d you… deal with it?” Sam mumbled softly. “I didn’t. Lot’a pent up issues in this handsome façade Sam, I’d give Dean a run for his money. Back then, I told myself I was helping my brother fight through his issues. I thought I was doing him a service, proving to him that I loved him. Letting him use me like that… But you know how this story ends.” “Yeah. I’ve tried running too.” “Luci always comes home.” A silence settled between the two men, heavy and thick as they both traveled back into their nightmares. Gabriel recalled years and years of mutilation and abuse at the hands of his brother, one could even call it torture. Physical, mental, emotional, Lucifer knew no limit when it came to inflicting pain. He’d used Gabriel’s soft and gentle nature against him, using it to his advantage like it was a sport. When he finally fled heaven, it was the first time he had ever truly felt peace, even through the pain of missing his family. “Are you… afraid to see him?” Sam questioned, his eyes falling to the table. “Afraid? Nah. Nothing worse he can do to me than what he’s already done,” Gabriel answered, his voice void of the fear he felt, “I survived. Like to think I came out on top actually.” That was a conviction he truly felt. Lucifer, he hadn’t changed. He was still bitter, jaded, cruel. He’d done nothing to remedy his flaws and downfalls over the years, whereas Gabriel felt he had. Well, at least he’d tried. He’d loved, lost, saved a few people, killed a couple of bad apples. All in all he didn’t think he’d done too badly for himself, considering. Then there was Liv, of course. No matter what powers Lucifer held over Gabriel, he’d never have something like her. “Don’t… let him get to you,” Gabriel continued, “He feeds on it. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Sam was shocked by the sentiment in Gabriel’s tone. This was the same guy that killed Dean in front of him hundreds of times, and then made him live out six months of pure hell in some elaborate prank. Yet, here he was now, hunting down the devil and willing to put himself on the line to save the world, even if he was a little reluctant. Times certainly had changed. “How long?” Sam inquired nervously, “how long have you and Liv been, whatever you are.” “Long time,” Gabriel responded, “if you’re wondering if she was around for Mystery Spot, then yeah. Earned myself the dog house for that one. Ya hungry? I’m making the Liv Special. Eggs over easy and more bacon than any one human being ever needs to consume. You’ll be doing her arteries a favor by sharing.” “Uh, yeah, sure. Thanks.” As Gabriel took off in the direction of the kitchen, Sam knew he needed to linger a little bit longer. Dean was still passed out in his bed, his snores could faintly be heard from all the way in the library. Sam had heard him stumble in around 4 AM, his efforts with that little brunette were not in vain. While he knew Gabriel’s intentions were good, the angel had done nothing to ease his mind. If anything, it had only pissed him off further. Lucifer had been destroying lives since before the sun was even created, yet somehow God had let him continue to exist. He thought back to all the people they’d lost throughout the years and the fact that that devoid, petulant monster was still walking freely angered him to no limit. One day they’d get the upper-hand on him and end him once and for all or he was going to die trying. When Gabriel turned into the kitchen, he stopped dead in his tracks in the doorway. Some things needed to be appreciated and revered for exactly what they were and this was one of them. Liv was seated on the counter, her legs hanging freely over the edge, swinging absentmindedly as she held a mug of coffee in one hand and her phone in the other. Her attention was still very much engaged with whatever she was doing on it, he was fairly certain it was that weird candy game he’d caught her playing a few times now. She was addicted to it. Her hair was cascading around her face and shoulders, his t-shirt hung loosely on her small frame and he couldn’t help but take in the rawness of the moment. This was her. Most would never see this side of her, they’d never be so lucky. To them, she’d always be that tough-as-nails hunter with the tongue to boot. To him, she’d always be that goofy, clumsy, giggling nerd who watched too much Harry Potter and could solve almost the entire Sunday Crossword singlehandedly. He figured at some point when Dad was pulling everything together, turning atoms into molecules and molecules into trees, platypus’, angels and humans, a piece of her must have been thrown into him by mistake. One little molecule meant for her was whirring around wreaking chaos, rewiring his electrical currents. How could something so small and insignificant be so profound that it changed fate itself? He knew he wasn’t meant to love her, he was designed for a much greater purpose, but as he stood before her there was no grander task he could have been assigned. He was her lover, her best friend, her guardian and she the very thing that kept his grace pumping through his veins. Perhaps it was that little stolen piece of her that had kept him alive through the tortures of hell. Buzzing in his body on overdrive, jumpstarting his own wearied cells into functioning just enough to keep him going day after day, year after year. Remember what you’re fighting for. She was the beginning and the end, the very definition of purpose. There was no force that heaven, hell, or anything in between could muster that was strong enough to tear him from her now. “Hey,” she greeted, finally catching sight of him leaning in the entryway, “what’re you doing?” “Enjoying the view,” he beamed, pushing himself off the frame and towards her. As he advanced she rolled her eyes, scoffing with a grin. She tossed her phone down onto the counter as he came to stand in front of her, nestling himself between her knees with his hands pressed into the cool countertop on each side of her. Her arms wrapped around his neck lazily, one hand toying with his messy hair. “You know, your face is gonna get stuck that way if you keep rolling your eyes like that,” he teased. His lips fell to her throat, her pulse thrumming beneath his lips reminding him again that she was real. She was here. She was with him. “You don’t have to come today,” he whispered against her skin, lips feathering as he spoke. “Don’t be dumb,” she insulted, “I’m going. Don’t even try to stop me. You’re making me sit out the grand finale, I’m at least helping in the opener.” A sigh of relief exploded from his chest. He felt her breathe a small laugh through her nose, her arms wrapping a little tighter around him. His lips began to brush against her again, trailing up her neck and face until his forehead was pressed firmly against hers. She finally answered his request, and for once, she was giving in. “Thank you,” he choked, the relief settling so many of his nerves and fears. “You owe me,” she warned, keeping her eyes locked on his. “Whatever you want, sweetheart. Swear to… you.” Swearing to God held no meaning, not to him, but she did. She smiled with one side of her lips, bringing one hand between them and holding her pinky out straight. He mirrored her expression, linking his own smallest finger with hers and squeezing, pulling their hands into his chest. With not a second’s more hesitation he leaned in and kissed her, lightly at first, but his motions picking up speed and tempo as he grew more and more grateful for this break he’d been given. She’d be safe here, at home. She’d have the witch as backup, in a warded bunker loaded with more weapons than anyone knew what to do with. When he came home, he’d bury himself in her arms, finally ready to take on the future. A future filled with nothing but her and peace and quiet. “Have you decided on where exactly we’ll be going when this is all said and done?” Gabriel’s anticipation bubbled over, he wanted specifics on where his life would be headed in just a few days time. “Mexico? Maybe Belize again…” she mused, that coy little smirk still plastered on her face. “Oh I always knew you were perfect.” “I like the beach, and the food, and you like the tequila. Win win.” “Uh, correction. I like you drunk on the tequila. Something about it makes you throw inhibitions to the wind and I have a deep appreciation for it.” Sam rounded the corner and paused where Gabriel had moments before, the scene before him making him smile. Gabriel was hovered in towards Liv sitting on the countertop, her arms wrapped around his neck with the most serene expression on her face. It was a look he would have never thought possible for her. They were both smiling with their entire faces, completely enraptured by one another; a tornado could pass by and he didn’t think they’d even notice. He hadn’t seen a look like that on Gabriel’s face since before they’d outed him as an archangel, unbridled happiness tinged with a touch a mischief. He looked at her like she was made of a magic only he could see. They certainly did bring out the best in each other. Maybe the worst, too. A pang of guilt hit him in the stomach. Clearly, they just wanted to run off into the sunset together, but here they were being drug off into his and his brother’s mess once again. He knew there was no other option, and Dean would never forgive either of them for walking away now, but it didn’t change the fact that Sam knew this wasn’t their problem. It never had been. He watched as Gabriel leaned in and kissed her, soft and slow. It was the way you kissed someone that you knew you had the power to break, but never would. It was reassuring and absolute. It was the kind of kiss he craved to give to someone, to receive in return, but that wasn’t his fate. It never was and it never would be. “I’m hungry,” Sam heard Liv pout as Gabriel pulled away, and he figured it was time to make his presence known. “Hey,” he greeted, walking into the kitchen like he hadn’t just been watching them. “Sam,” she announced, her face losing some of the softness he’d just been witness to, “slacker here hasn’t even started yet if you’re looking for breakfast.” Gabriel groaned in jest as he trudged over-dramatically to the fridge, pulling out the groceries he’d sent Castiel to collect the day before. Liv snickered to herself, hopping down to the floor and fetching two frying pans so they could begin their task. Sam sat back and watched as the pair worked seamlessly together. Gabriel did most of it, Liv passing eggs and utensils as needed and he wondered how, after so many years apart, two people could still be so in sync with one other. It was like not a second had passed. When he moved around her, he brushed a hand against her lower back, the little motion always eliciting at least a twitch of a smile from her lips and he swore they passed things back and forth without even so much as a look. Their motions were almost second nature, so deeply ingrained it was more habit than effort. The sight of an all powerful archangel in his kitchen frying bacon and eggs was certainly not something Sam ever expected to be sitting through. He thought he might actually be sad when they all went their separate ways. “Never knew you could cook Gabriel,” Sam commented, the smell of bacon filling the room and he knew Dean would be roused by it soon. “Oh yeah,” the angel bragged as he switched his attention from the bacon to the eggs, “You get bored after a while, Sammy.” “He can play guitar, too,” Liv boasted further, turning and leaning her back against the counter, “and we moonlit as bartenders for a little while. Also good at that.” “Oh yeah? Bartenders huh?” Sam wondered, “why?” “Why not?” Gabriel noted, “We had fun.” There was so much more to them than Sam could have ever guessed. He hoped they’d stick around for even a few days after they returned, to tell their stories. The bunker could use a little happy every once in awhile. Liv came over moments later, setting a plate down in front of Sam and herself, taking a seat across from him. Sam had to admit, this had to be one of the best looking breakfasts he’d seen in awhile. “You gonna be all right?” She asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Me? Oh yeah. I’ll be fine,” Sam promised, and he watched as Liv looked to Gabriel for reassurance. “Do I smell bacon?” a gravelly, sleep-heavy voice called from the hallway. The three inhabitants of the kitchen all turned their attention to the doorway, the image of a bathrobe-clad, hungover Dean coming into view. Gabe’s chin tucked into his neck as his eyebrows furrowed, his reaction earning a stifled giggle from Liv. “Wow,” Gabriel commented, “Mark this under things I had no interest in ever experiencing.” Sam and Liv burst out into laughter as they watched Dean’s face wrinkle in confusion and offense, Gabriel standing true in his disgusted expression. Dean brushed past the angel, fumbling loudly as he poured himself a mug of coffee, pouring almost half of it out onto the counter. “Do you have no self-awareness?” Gabriel chided as he watched Dean leave the mess, “Or are you just that disgusting?” “Never took you as a neat freak, Gabe,” Dean teased, smirking as he sat down next to his brother, “send a plate of that over here, will ya?” Gabriel’s nostrils flared as he glared at the hunter, his eyes full of contempt. He couldn’t wait to be out of here. “Please?” Dean added sarcastically. Liv shook her head, these two would never get along. Luckily, they wouldn’t have to for much longer. She watched as Gabriel prepared a plate, haphazardly tossing food onto it in a manner very much unlike him. Even with this simple task, he was all about presentation. As he tossed it onto the counter and turned to lean against the stove Liv laughed again, all about presentation and a little petty. “I am not delivering it to you,” Gabriel stated matter-of-factly, “Not even in your wildest dreams.” “You two are going to be the death of us all,” Liv retorted, bringing her empty plate over to the sink, “behave.” Her hand skimmed over Gabriel’s chest as she whispered that last word just to him as she passed. She wound her way back to the bedroom, shutting the door behind her for one moment of privacy. She’d made up her mind, deciding to give Gabriel a reprieve from his anxiety and stay behind from the main mission. While everything was still screaming at her to not let him go over there alone, she knew she had to trust him. She had to trust the Winchesters and Castiel; they’d get him home safely. He’d get himself home to her, he said he would, and he wouldn’t break another promise. Right now, the focus was on Lucifer. While she knew they’d be headed off to destruction land as soon as they got their hands on archangel grace, that time wasn’t here just yet. She dressed in more suitable attire for hunting the devil, but kept Gabriel’s old shirt on, it just seemed right having it on. Typically, she only ever slept in it, but it seemed appropriate even if she couldn’t quite put her finger on why. She was left alone for thirty minutes, her thoughts running rampant, before a soft knock startled her from her worries. “Can I come in?” a familiar sweet voice sounded from the other side of the antiquated wood. “Of course,” she replied softly, if he was anything but an angel he probably wouldn’t have even heard. When he stepped into the room, he saw exactly what he was expecting. She was seated on the edge of the bed, head hung low, too far gone in her head to dig herself out alone. “Look, I know you’re pissed,” he began. “I’m not pissed, Gabe,” she cut off, snapping her eyes up to him, “I’m… panic-stricken.” He sighed, “I know. Anything I can do? To… ease your suffering?” Leave it to him to pull a smile in the most unlikely of times. Even if there was nothing except abandoning this fool’s plan once and for all. “It’s time to go,” he confessed as she remained silent, “I’ll drive. You just sit co-captain and look cute, yeah?” The pair made their way to the war room, meeting with the other four members of their unlikely team. Rowena and Castiel flanked the Winchester brothers, everyone trying their best to mask their concern and fears. “Okay, we got the plan, right?” Dean barked, his militant tone taking over, “main players are Rowena and Gabe. Cas you’re back up one, Liv, Sam, we’re back up two. We juice him, cuff him, throw him in the trunk. That’s it, on to the next.” Everyone nodded once, their stomachs collectively falling as they walked off towards the garage. Little did they know it was one step towards a path of total and complete destruction. TAGS: @idabbleincrazy @analisespn @nodistressdamsel @morganas-pendragons