#Bobby died and no one kept that kid on check using hard love

[crowned-clown-rising]

I would give my life for Dean Winchester. I would hug him tight and put him to bed and give him a forehead kiss.

However if I encounter Dean Winchester I would fight the bitch on sight.

[half-bakedboy]

it’s okay (not to be okay)

(read on ao3) 

Pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz Rated: General Summary: “Great idea. Eddie really shouldn’t be exerting himself right now.”

“Seriously, Buck?” Eddie asked, standing up with a huff.

Buck didn’t have time to be frustrated, because Bobby was instructing him to assist with other patients and he had a job to do.

(Two jobs, if he counted protecting Eddie from himself.)

___________________________

[From: Ana]

Eddie had a panic attack and was taken to the hospital. He’s okay, but he’s struggling, Buck. I can’t get through to him, but I think you can. 

[From: Ana]

He doesn’t want anyone to know. Chris had to tell the doctor he was shot. I don’t know what to do.

[From: Ana]

He just dropped me off at my house. Maybe someone should check on him later?

Buck stared down at the messages on his phone, panic thrumming through his body with each passing moment. He ran his fingers through his hair and held in the breath he had sharply inhaled to hold back his own alarm. It was a feeling he was used to, one that he grew to absorb and hold back because he couldn’t let it interfere with his life, his job. He needed a clear head and when he didn’t have one, the panic would become too much to handle, a cross he couldn’t and wouldn’t let himself bear.

Eddie didn’t panic. Eddie was the one who didn’t make rash decisions, who thought through everything before he acted, who kept everyone else calm in each crisis the team had. His level head made him an amazing soldier, a phenomenal firefighter, an ideal father, and… well, everything Buck had ever wanted to be. 

So to say he was worried about Ana’s texts was an understatement. 

He held his phone up to his ear and when the sound of Eddie’s voice rung through the speaker, he deflated. The familiar sound of Eddie’s always professional voicemail pissed him off more than anything so he wasn’t about to give up. He dialed the other number saved into his favorites and after a few rings, rustling sounded through. 

“Buck?” Christopher asked, voice muffled with sleep. Buck checked the time on his watch and sighed. 

“I’m sorry, buddy, you go to sleep. I was just trying to reach—”

“Dad’s not gonna answer.” 

Christopher said the words so matter-of-factly that Buck felt his heartbeat speed up. 

“You think so? Why is that?” 

“He told me and Ana not to tell anyone,” Christopher began. 

Buck could hear his pout and he wanted to ruffle his hair and tell him that everything was going to be okay, but he had to convince himself of it first. Christopher could see right through him and he wasn’t willing to have the kid lose sleep over his own nerves. 

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Buck promised, “but can you let me know what your dad is doing right now?” 

“He’s in bed. He didn’t even take a shower and he loves showers,” Christopher exaggerated. Buck let out a huff of laughter. 

“You’re observant, you know that?” A few moments of silence passed and even through the phone, Buck could hear Christopher’s worry. “Hey, he’s okay, right?”

“I think so.” He didn’t sound sure. 

“Well, both Ana and I are looking after him and you know who else is?” Buck asked. 

“Who?” Christopher whispered. His breathing was starting to slow, his voice sounding even more muffled as he slowly lulled himself to sleep. 

“ You . He’s okay because he has you, just like he always has, got it?” 

“Got it,” Chris agreed quietly. “Love you, Buck,” he added. 

The line went dead before Buck could say it back, but he figured Chris knew what his response would be anyway. 

___________________________

Over the next day, Buck did what he did best. He watched. He noted Eddie’s behavior. He considered the inflections of his voice, the content of his words, the way he handled himself. To any outsider, it was like nothing ever happened. 

Buck wasn’t just anyone, especially to Eddie.

He pretended not to notice Eddie’s hesitation when he was tasked with helping Chim wire the air traffic controller. He pretended that Eddie’s hand didn’t feel too heavy on his shoulder when he stood up to quickly diagnose the other man with a potential panic attack. 

He pretended he didn’t see the way Eddie’s hands trembled a little more than they usually did after a call while they made their way to the fire truck and ambulances with the victims. He pretended not to see Eddie close his eyes for a few moments and take a deep breath, in and out, calculated like it wasn’t quite second nature anymore. 

It wasn’t until they entered the emergency department that he had ammo for confrontation. 

“Hey, what was with that doctor on the way in? Why is she asking if you’re alright?” Buck asked. He played nonchalance really well but he could be proud of himself for that later. 

“It was nothing.” Buck just stared and Eddie sighed. “I wasn’t feeling well the other day, so… she checked me out.” 

“She’s a cardiologist. At a hospital,” Buck supplied. He knew Eddie didn’t think he was that stupid—or at least, he hoped. “Are you saying you had a heart attack?” Buck asked, immediately concerned that maybe he didn’t let Ana and Christopher in on the full story. 

“No, I’m not saying I had a heart attack. I’m saying the opposite,” Eddie said smugly, “I’m saying I didn’t have a heart attack.” 

“But you did think you were having a heart attack,” Buck appended. He was leading Eddie to the point, feigning dumb for the good of the situation, but Eddie wouldn’t budge. 

“Can we just drop this?” 

Before Buck could argue, Hen walked over and asked, “Guys, want us to tag you out?” Eddie agreed, but Buck felt his annoyance rise within him. He couldn’t stop himself from his next words. 

“Great idea. Eddie really shouldn’t be exerting himself right now.” 

“Seriously, Buck?” Eddie asked, standing up with a huff. 

Buck didn’t have time to be frustrated, because Bobby was instructing him to assist with other patients and he had a job to do. 

(Two jobs, if he counted protecting Eddie from himself.) 

___________________________

The front door to Eddie's apartment slammed and Buck could see the tension jerk at Eddie’s shoulders. 

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Buck questioned. 

“There wasn’t anything to tell, Buck,” Eddie said stubbornly. Buck would have smacked him if he wasn’t so worried. 

“Nothing to tell, huh?” He held up his hand and counted off his fingers as he listed off, “You had a presumed heart attack and were sent by ambulance to the hospital. Turns out it was a panic attack and when asked if there were any stressors lately, you lied to the doctor about getting shot—”

“I didn’t lie, I—”

Eddie stopped himself when Buck’s glare narrowed even further. 

“Your son had to tell the doctor that you were shot,” Buck corrected. Eddie pressed his lips together, unwilling to argue. “You almost have another panic attack on a scene and tell approximately no one only have a full-blown meltdown on a helicopter that’s hanging on by a thread in the middle of a rescue. Am I missing anything?” Buck asked, though it was clear he wasn’t looking for an answer. 

“I’m fine—” Eddie began. 

Buck waltzed up to him and grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him as hard as he could while still being aware of the bullet hole-shaped scar left behind from those few months ago. The scar that might have physically stayed on Eddie, but lingered in the back of Buck’s mind every single day. 

“You’re not fine, Eddie! You almost died and you’re sitting here like life goes on and nothing has changed.” 

“Nothing has. It was a panic attack, not another near-death experience.” 

“You say another like it’s a normal occurrence in people’s lives,” Buck exclaimed. “It’s not! It’s not normal for people to get shot and survive—not once, but twice. It’s not normal for people to just move on with their lives like they weren’t nearly ended. It’s not normal to carry on like nothing is wrong when something is fucking wrong, Eddie!” 

“Buck, you should take a step back—” 

Buck pushed himself away before Eddie’s hands could press against his shoulders, that thumbprint on his pulse that reminded both of them that they were still there. He leaned against the wall behind him, unable to hold himself up without assistance anymore, and sighed.

“You didn’t tell me,” Buck said, a whisper of admission into the air between them like a secret Buck wasn’t ready to tell. 

“I couldn’t,” Eddie muttered. 

“You couldn’t?” Buck scoffed. “You didn’t trust me? You didn’t want me to exhaust you with my worry? Give me one good reason why you couldn’t tell me!” 

“Because then it’s real, Buck, okay?!” Eddie yelled. He ran his hands through his hair before he pounded a fist against the wall beside him. It would hurt in the morning, that much was obvious by the sound that echoed through the empty room. 

“What?” Buck asked quietly. Eddie breathed deeply like he hadn’t taken in air in months. Buck wasn’t convinced he had. 

“If you don’t know, then I can forget it’s happening. I’m not reminded of that moment where the pain was so great that I couldn’t hold myself up and only trusted myself to reach out to you to pick me back up. I’m not haunted by the fact that I almost made my son an orphan for the third time in his life. If you don’t know, then I can pretend it never happened and move forward.”

“From what, Eddie? You can’t just move forward. You know that,” Buck prodded. 

“Yeah, well, I sure as hell can try .” 

They both paused, taking the moment of silence to breathe, to think, to figure out what was next. 

Eddie made the first move, walking over to where Buck had leaned back against the wall and matched his position. He pressed their shoulders together, his eyes glued to the way Buck’s chest moved up and down slowly, imitating the movement as if he wasn’t sure he would be able to do it himself. 

Buck yearned to reach out and hold him, but instead, he asked the questions that lingered on his mind. 

“When are going to let us—any of us—in? When are you going to let me help you ? When are you going to admit that you’re not okay?” 

Eddie didn’t—couldn’t—answer, but the shake in his shoulders was unmistakable.

As he slid down the wall, Buck followed his every move, wrapping an arm around his waist to ease the fall. When they landed, Eddie pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and let out a gutwrenching sob that had tears bubbling behind Buck’s eyelids. He held them back as best he could because, at that moment, nothing else could matter but Eddie. 

Cries of pain, anguish, fear, every horrible emotion that had been welling up inside of both of them burst from Eddie’s mouth and he fell into Buck for the support he extended. He clawed at the collar of Buck’s shirt, his nails raking against the skin of Buck’s chest, but nothing was as painful as the way Eddie gasped at the breaths that didn’t seem to come as quickly as he needed them to. 

Buck held Eddie’s hand to his heart so he could feel the simple rise and fall of his chest and mimic it again. His other hand grasped at the shirt of Eddie’s back to keep his panic away, his own way of anchoring himself there so he could continue to be the solid weight Eddie needed to push through. 

Every part of them was entangled and Eddie had no choice but to press his face into Buck’s neck. Buck hoped his heartbeat stayed solid enough to remind Eddie they were both still alive, even if it felt like they weren’t. 

“I’ve got you, Eds, I’m here. I won’t let you go, never.” 

It was too much to say, too easy for Eddie to read into the double entendre of his words and Buck selfishly hoped he was too lost in his own mind to realize it. 

But the words or the touch or the steady calmness Buck forced himself into seemed to ease Eddie out of the attack of emotions that surged through him. Little by little, Eddie’s sobs turned to hiccups, his tears turned to trickles, and the white-knuckled grip he had on Buck loosened but didn’t fall. He breathed in time with Buck, his heartbeat slowing to its correct rhythm, and the tremors in his body settled to occasional chills. 

“Buck?” Eddie asked, as if he barely realized what was happening inside of him. 

“I’m here,” Buck reassured. 

Eddie shook his head and when he finally glanced up, all Buck could see was the redness around his eyes and the tear stains that looked too permanent on his skin. 

“I’m not okay,” Eddie admitted— finally —before pressing his face back into Buck’s neck with a whimper like the words were painful to acknowledge out loud.

“Yeah, Eddie, I know.” 

Buck couldn’t resist kissing the top of his head and letting his lips linger for just a second too long. 

“I need your help,” Eddie said, his voice graveled with emotion.

“You’ve got it,” he promised again.

“Yeah, Buck, I know,” Eddie teased because of course, even in his darkest moment, he had to get the last word in and it had to be something full of that sarcastic barrier he protected himself with. 

Buck let him, though, because he figured Eddie knew what his response would be anyway. 

[variousqueerthings]

Johnny and ADHD

alright, I’ve wanted to write something about ADHD Johnny for awhile now.

Waaay back in February @deliciousbananavoidpurse made this post and I made some haphazard additions, but now, at last, I ramble!

This isn’t really an addition to that list so much as a... idk, seeing it from an almost fic-but-kind-of-meta point of view. Those points In Practise, with an additional young Johnny.

1.

Johnny’s a kid. He and his mom have been living hand-to-mouth for as long as he remembers, in and out of schools, in and out of apartments and cars. Of course he’s going to be flighty, spaced-out, unfocused.

He’s an easy target – not very big (he doesn’t get a lot of good meals), dirty clothes, and… weird. He gets beaten up sometimes, but mostly he sticks as much to himself as he can and doesn’t go to school if he can help it. Laura saves up and gets him a walkman.

After that it’s like the world doesn’t exist to him at all.

She thinks that’s easier than trying to make him live in it. But he deserves better. They both do. So she makes a decision that changes everything…

2.

Johnny’s not going hungry these days. In fact, he eats constantly, like he’s making up for lost time. His clothes are new and he gets anything he wants. He’s enrolled in school properly.

But Johnny himself doesn’t change much. He’s vibrating with an energy he can’t explain – normal for boys – he skips school, he goes off somewhere in his own mind, struggles with making friends, gets into fights he can’t win, and all day he listens to music. Still skinny, still flighty, still weird.

Tries new things that become all-encompassing for him and drops them one day to the next – normal for boys, all normal for boys – and then -

3.

Johnny sees those boys: Tall, broad, leather jackets, rad bikes, shining, beautiful. He watches them through the window for hours, transfixed in a way only riding his bike and listening to music used to do. 

He joins Cobra Kai.

And finally, like a dam breaking, he focuses. He focuses like he’s a machine. Like nothing else matters. He takes everything happening at home, every beating he ever took, every failing grade (he tries, but school never manages to matter – the other Cobras help, simply by being there and sometimes especially Bobby forces him to sit down and write a paper, but he’ll never be smart, that’s fine), and he puts them into his fist.

He trusts Kreese to tell him what to think, what to feel, what to do. Finally, finally, everything makes sense. It’s just him and his body and someone he trusts telling him what to do with it. 

Nothing else matters.

4.

There are other things that matter. 

He’s getting his life in order so he can leave Sid’s and take his Mom with him. He’s going to be the right kind of boyfriend to Ali. He’ll do well enough in his final year to make up for the previous ones, and he’s got karate, and Kreese, who’s telling him he’s the champ. 

Who he can trust.

But he gets into trouble, he drinks, his grades continue to slip, and suddenly (or is it gradually, he can’t tell with time sometimes) Ali is telling him he’s changed – angry, volatile, forgetful, (okay he was always forgetful, but it’s getting worse – is karate the only thing he cares about?), but it’s fine, he can fix that too. He just has to change everything that doesn’t work. If he can be that good at karate, it just means he’s not trying hard enough everywhere else. Just needs to try harder.

Just. Easy. He has a plan. He has a hundred plans.

5.

It all blows up in his face and suddenly he’s faced with the truth: that there really is nothing he’s good for. Karate? What’s that ever gotten him? What else has he got to show for it? 

He’s still just the same kid he was – alright, he’s bigger, babes will stop and check him out, he’s learned how to charm people if he has to, but those are just scripts and they don’t work for long if he doesn’t have anything else to back them up and they bore him - they bore him in ways he thinks have gotta be different to what everyone else means when they say they’re bored. 

He doesn’t have a plan. He has a hundred plans. He doesn’t have anyone to tell him what to do. He doesn’t know what to do. He knows what to do.

He drinks more. What does it matter, he’s young, life’s short, there’s nothing he can learn now (and really, if you know a couple of things you can scrape by – when they turn off the lights he knows he forgot to pay the bills, when he gets arrested he knows he fucked up and let his emotions get away with him), and before he knows it it’s 2002.

6.

His mom dies. Robby is born. Someone smarter than him could figure out some kind of poetic meaning behind that, but he’s not smart, so he just lets the moments pass him by like everything else has passed him by.

He’s getting by with what he knows. The world outside is like a blur. He’s got what he’s always had: music, a car, his looks. He’s doing okay for someone in his mid-thirties who doesn’t know how to boil spaghetti and drinks first thing in the morning.

 Probably all the fighting. He kept it up, informally. Maybe because it’s too deep in his bones for him to let go of, even if it just reminds him over and over that he couldn’t take it. That he can’t take it.

He fights whenever it all gets to be too much and even the drinking doesn’t work. Sometimes he punches walls to fight himself. It’s like a sharp feeling that he can’t ignore that can only be silenced with fighting. The off-button.

7.

2017 (again, the past is a blur. 2017? what happened to thirty-five? What happened to being young? Someone who’s young is allowed to be like this, but he’s…)

He never owned a computer. He never learned new words or anything else that wasn’t immediately important. He makes a handshake deal, because his credit is shit, but also because he never figured out how contracts really work. He still struggles with bills (you can leave anything to the last minute and beyond and things can still turn out okay), struggles with communication. His old scripts don’t work any more and he can’t learn new ones. He’s forgotten enough promises he made to watch Robby’s matches or drive him to school – even his birthday sometimes, even when he writes it down and forgets where he wrote it down - that Robby wants nothing more to do with him. Forgets groceries. 

He’ll do or say something and people will look at him like he’s stupid and he doesn’t know why. He refuses to ask, because he just wants the looks to go away. He knows he’s stupid. He knows he can’t figure things out. He knows, okay? Shut up.

He’s not an alcoholic. He just drinks to wake up. To forget. To calm down (that electricity that existed in his body as a kid never went away, even though he’s so so tired. The machine inside of him that won’t shut off without a fight, won’t let him stop moving). To sleep. To drink. To do something.

He sees Miguel and has a hundred new plans. He sees the future like it’s right there and a million miles away. He was never good at implementing long-term plans. He thinks maybe karate can save him, just like it did when he was a kid. 

8.

There’s something wrong with his brain. Has been all his life. That’s not how he was told, he was given a bunch of tests and gently informed – undiagnosed it can lead to some of the problems you’ve had, it’s normal, it’s okay – like he’s dying of cancer. But that’s the gist of it. He didn’t fuck up because he didn’t try hard enough, he was always going to fuck up. That doesn’t make him feel better.

It means quitting the alcohol is gonna fail. It means he really is stupid. It means he could’ve never been the kid his mom needed. It means he was easy for Kreese to manipulate. It means Robby could be fucked up too and he’s failed him again. It means he’s not worth the time and pain that people invest in him, like his mom, Ali, Shannon, Robby, Bobby, Miguel, Carmen, Daniel -

“Hey.”

It means he’s got Emotional Dysregulation. Translated: he’s the kind of man who has to work extra hard not to cry (explains why he was such a pussy as a kid. Also explains all the pain in his chest and throat right before roughly... 70% of his most recent fights). And fuck, he just failed.

“What?” Anger is better. It’s also a dysregulation apparently, but it’s better than being weak.

“It’s okay,” says Daniel, and of course he’d think that – he’s never seen a nameable problem he didn’t wanna fix, but didn’t you hear LaRusso, you can’t fix this. Never could. 

“It’s not about fixing,” answers Daniel. “It’s about understanding. It’s about knowing who you are. If you know who you are, you can make a choice.”

“What kinda choice do I have?”

Daniel shrugs. “You chose to take in Miguel. You chose not to fight me, more times than I chose to fight you in the last couple of years. You chose that you wanted to know who you were. And you chose to try being sober. Those are all good decisions in my book. Anything else… we can figure things out from here. Trust me.”

He places a hand on the back of Johnny’s neck, grounding him. Daniel has that power. The power to make everything okay for a second. 

Johnny thinks: Please tell me what to do. I was always okay once you gave me something to do. Like karate. Figuring things out is… too abstract. Eventually though, he knows, if he’s patient, Daniel will tell him what to do next. 

He just has to trust him.

9. (Extra: things Johnny does, because of the brain he has)

Johnny trusts easily, despite it all. He’s honest (and sometimes too literal). He’s passionate. He’s driven. He’s loving. He feels, so so much. He’s protective and he’s loyal. He tries his hardest, even when everything – including his own brain – refuses to help. He believes in second chances for others (and he’s beginning to believe in it for himself). He’s good with kids when he lets himself be. He’s learning to be gentle with himself and others. He’s learning that bravery takes many shapes. He’s learning that he can learn, and he’s learning what he needs for that to happen. He’s a good mentor. He’s learning to be a better friend. He’s kind. He’s honourable. He’s trying to rectify his own mistakes, and he’s trying not to let the mistakes of others continue to impact his life. He’s moving forwards.

[phantom-curve]

Happy second birthday❤️❤️❤️ 35 juke please

Thank you! I know I did this prompt for Willex already, but since you specified Juke I wanted to give that dynamic a shot as well, so here is some very angsty Luke and comforting Julie set in the did I shatter you? AU, from before that fic takes place!

#35: kissing their scars and bruises (Trigger Warning: brief mention of violence in the form of punching a wall and the resulting injuries from doing so. Rated T for language)

Luke didn’t often talk about Bobby anymore. Julie knew the basics, knew how deeply his betrayal had cut into Luke, knew that the wound still festered on some level, but it wasn’t something that they actually talked about. Bobby was in the Before Time: the time when Julie didn’t know the boys, the time when she was still lost in the ocean of grief that had drowned her when her mom died, the time when they were Julie Molina and Sunset Curve, two separate entities that hadn’t yet had the chance to change each other’s lives. Luke didn’t like the Before Time. He didn’t like that Julie had been silent and alone in her suffering for so long, he didn’t like that he had given so much of himself to a band that had been shattered as easily as glass against hardwood floor. He liked to focus on the here and the now. But the Before Time was there, and Julie knew that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t always outrun it.

Like now, when they were on their first tour out of high school, opening for Fitz and The Tantrums (which was the biggest thing they had done as a band so far and holy shit was it incredible), but of course there had to be some way that Bobby ruined it.

Julie hadn’t really noticed it at first, when they entered the second to last venue on their tour. She was a bit too awed by the fact that they were finally doing what they had always wanted to and gaining even more recognition along the way. They actually had some fans that had gone to more than one tour stop, specifically to see them, and at last night’s show there had been a girl that had approached the merch booth after their set and said the only reason she got tickets to the show in the first place was to see them play. It felt big and huge and like they were finally taking steps to enter the real professional musician leagues, and Julie had been basking in it.

So, she missed the way Luke was off in the green room. Didn’t pay a lot of attention to the posters on the walls from previous tours that had come through. Not until they were on stage and Luke’s energy felt weird and the entire performance left her with the sour taste of dissatisfaction as they made their way back to the green room to clean up and get ready to head out to their merch table. Alex and Reggie were quieter than normal, and Luke was clearly pissed. At first, she thought it was because they hadn’t played their best, but then Luke’s fist was flying into the concrete wall next to a bright blue poster, and when she screamed and rushed over to check on him, she saw the words printed on the page.

Trevor Wilson: Get Lost Tour!

The dates listed below were from almost a year prior. Once again, Bobby had beaten Luke at something without putting in even half the effort. Not that Julie saw it that way, but she knew Luke did. She caught the sound of the door to the green room closing, noticed that Alex and Reggie were gone, probably for the best considering Reg still jumped when someone so much as raised their voice around him, but most of her focus was on Luke. The tears in his eyes and the blood streaming down his fingers from where the skin had split on his knuckles. The wall hadn’t sustained any damage, but Luke’s hand was a different matter completely. The anger seemed to drain out of him all at once when he met Julie’s steady gaze.

“I’m sorry.”

His voice was broken, his body slumping forward as she caught him in a hug. She didn’t speak, let him cry himself out against the cradle of her neck until the collar of her shirt was wet with his tears. After a long moment he shuddered, pulling out of her grasp and plopping down on the ratty couch, his injured hand tucked against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, although this time Julie could tell it wasn’t just an apology for his outburst, but an apology for everything else about that night.

“I know.”

She didn’t need to make him feel worse. It was punishment enough that he had injured his playing hand. Their last show was in two days and Julie was sure he wouldn’t be playing it. But that conversation could be saved for a later time. Right now, he needed comfort. She moved to sit next to him, tucking her legs underneath herself, reaching out for his hand. He passed it over without comment.

Slowly, Julie flexed and moved each one of his fingers, noticing when he winced but thankful that each one seemed to move okay. He hadn’t broken anything which seemed to be a miracle in itself, but it was clear he had done some minor damage, bruises already blossoming along his knuckles. She left the couch to move to the cooler along the wall, scooping a handful of ice into a paper towel and swiping some bandages and wet wipes from the ancient First Aid kid in the back corner. When she sat down again, Luke placed his hand in hers without question, meeting her gaze as she held the makeshift ice pack against it.

“You know his success doesn’t detract from yours, right? You’re still a better musician in every way and you’ve actually earned your spot instead of buying your way in.”

She kept her voice gentle and steady, no judgement, just the affection that always simmered under the surface. They both knew they weren’t exactly ‘just friends’ though neither one had made any moves towards something more than that yet.

“He’s still using my words to get there though. My heart and soul getting twisted into whatever he wants to make them.”

Luke couldn’t keep the disgust out of his words, his lip curling into a sneer. Julie sighed and tried again.

“I know. But you have new words, our words.”

Our hearts and souls combined, she wanted to say. But she held back. They weren’t ready for that yet. Luke’s face softened slightly before he sighed.

“You’re right, I know you’re right. It just still fucking hurts, Jules.”

“I get that. But does it hurt any less because you punched a wall about it?”

A rueful grin stretched his lips and then he sucked in a breath as Julie lifted the ice and began dabbing at the scrapes on his hand with the wipes. He was silent for a while, watching her intently as she bandaged his wounds.

“You’re too good to me.”

There was a deeper emotion lurking behind his eyes, something less friendly and more loving. Julie ducked her head shyly, lifting his hand so she could be sure it was properly fixed up for the time being. In a moment of pure adrenaline and bravery, she lowered her lips and kissed her way across the bruises marring his skin, turning his hand over to place one final kiss in the center of it before she slowly curled his fingers around it. Her kiss, enclosed in his palm, like a tattoo on his skin. She blushed when she finally looked up to meet his gaze, the endless ocean in his eyes nearly drowning her with affection and awe. His uninjured hand reached up to graze her jaw lightly. The sound of the door opening broke through their moment, Luke’s hand falling and Julie pushing herself off of the couch as Alex cautiously stuck his head into the room.

“You all good in here? We still have merch to sell and there’s some fans asking where you guys are.”

Julie forced a grin, meeting Luke’s gaze for one quick moment. He nodded softly and she turned back to Alex.

“All good.”

“Sorry, bro. Tell Reggie I’ll buy him a snow cone to make up for it. That wasn’t cool.”

Alex nodded, his jaw softening slightly as he took in Luke’s hand and red rimmed eyes.

“Tell him yourself. At the merch table. Where your fans are asking for you.”

Julie laughed lightly.

“Okay, okay we get the hint.” She turned to Luke and offered a hand for him to hold. He stood, lacing his fingers through hers. “C’mon, Rockstar. Let’s give the people what they came here for.”

Luke smiled, a real smile, and Julie knew things would be okay. The Bobby hurt lived on, but they were pushing their way through it one day at a time. Their songs, their band, was stronger than one jackass with a handful of stolen songs. They were stronger; together they would survive this.

[woodchoc-magnum]

9-1-1 4x04 Reaction

Spoilers under the cut

Buddie for comfort:

Saving the parents for last because jesus fucking christ that’s a rant, and also, I’m functioning on very little sleep so this may be completely disjointed and rambly:

I am in love with Buck and Eddie trying to solve the crime together and I wish they would re-film that scene without face masks

Because they so would be into true crime, like Eddie pretends to be cool but he’s a secret nerd, and he loves to nerd out with Buck, so it makes total sense that they watch crime documentaries together like COME ON

I’m incorporating this into a fic somehow

May Grant the 911 operator 🔥🔥🔥

Gratuitous shirtlessness in the form of Albert and Chimney, thank you very much 911

Albert fucking RUNNING AWAY FROM CHIMNEY 10/10 comedy

And then Chimney RUNNING AWAY FROM THE REST OF THE TEAM 10/10 comedy as well

Albert throwing a whole wheel of brie into the oven? Like just throwing it in there? Literally just throwing it in there

I don’t know why they added that in but I’m not mad at it

Chimney making friends with the mad bomber after the preview was like “IS CHIMNEY GONNA DIE????” no he’s gonna make a new friend and then brain him with an oxygen tank duh

Well, I guess it’s about that time to talk about the worst parents in the show, so here we go:

Some of this is gonna be speculation because obviously we don’t know how this all played out, but we can make some guesses. My theory is that Daniel the dead brother died... perhaps saving Buck when he was only very little, hence Buck not remembering it, and his parents... asking Maddie not to tell him?

What even the FUCK though

Why would you ask your NINE YEAR OLD DAUGHTER TO LIE TO HER LITTLE BROTHER ABOUT THEIR OTHER BROTHER WHO DIED

And how the hell do you cover something like that up? Did they simply move away from friends and family so no one would ever talk about it? Did they box up all the pictures and memories and everything and just... fucking... MOVE ON? Or not move on, because they have obviously never forgiven Buck for whatever the hell happened.

Okay, this is my speculation:

The parents are somehow responsible - for example, an accidental drowning (I don’t think this is what happened, this is just an example). So hypothetically, they’re at the beach, and Buck is a toddler, and the parents aren’t paying attention and he wanders into the sea and gets swept out; Daniel comes to his rescue and dies in the act of saving him (this thing happens in Australia all the time, hence why I’m using it as an example - swim between the flags, gang!).

So then you have the parents who are ultimately responsible for not paying attention, you have the unavoidable tragedy of one of the children dying, and the way they coped with this terrible tragedy was to place the blame on Buck (even though it wasn’t his fault, at all) and pretend that Daniel had simply never existed.

This means that Buck spends his life living in the shadow of the older brother who was glorified, who died saving him, and Buck has no idea why he can never please his parents and why they don’t love him. This is why they’re checked out as parents, because one of their kids died, and instead of seeking therapy, they decided to live a lie and blame their son for something he had no fucking control over.

So setting all that aside, let’s talk about these two absolute fucking pieces of shit.

They’ve alienated their children so much that both of them are absolutely terrified when they turn up. Buck is petrified. He’s spent his whole life never living up to their expectations, never feeling good enough, or worthy enough, constantly being put down - no wonder he ran away to California to put some distance between them. And he’s finally in a good place, going through therapy, dealing with his issues, and now bam - his parents are back in town to screw up all of his hard work.

And Maddie’s just as freaked out, because she’s trying to protect Buck from them. I feel like she has good intentions but her mistake is wanting Buck to have a relationship with people who don’t necessarily want to have a relationship with him, and for telling them about him being in therapy (which I still don’t understand, but I guess maybe the next episode will reveal the answer). To be clear, I don’t think Maddie is wrong for having kept this secret. She was manipulated into it by her parents when she was only a child, and that is not her fault, at all. She’s been told she’s doing the right thing and she hasn’t questioned it, but now, she is.

And, importantly - if her parents were checked out mentally and emotionally, she had to do a lot of the heavy-lifting and parenting when it came to Buck, when she was just a little girl herself. Maddie is the reason Buck is as wonderful as he is - she raised him.

Now, back to the pieces of shit:

They didn’t like Doug, so they washed their hands of Maddie, even though they lived in the same fucking town. So she was getting beaten up by her absolute monster of a husband, and ending up in hospital, and they were doing fucking nothing to intervene or help her.

THEY DIDN’T EVEN GO TO HER WEDDING. THEY SHOWED HER NO SUPPORT AT ALL. LIKE I CANNOT. All because they DISAGREED? SHE’S STILL YOUR DAUGHTER, like oh my god, I can’t even.

She had to flee across the country to Buck in California to finally escape him, because their parents didn’t care enough to help. Motherfuckers.

And then the whole “we don’t do hospitals” - bitch, they are your fucking CHILDREN. If your CHILDREN are in hospital, you are supposed to CARE. Buck got crushed by a ladder truck, he had an embolism and nearly died, he went through a tsunami and NOTHING? Nada? Maddie had to kill her husband after he nearly killed her, and NOTHING? Buck had to call to tell them what had happened!

And then to start crying and asking "I don’t know what you expected us to do?” - like, bitch, FUCKING ANYTHING?

I mean

I cannot with these people

What kind of white WASP-y nonsense is this

Let me tell the story of when I had appendicitis - I was taken to the hospital by my friend at night, my mum lives two hours away - when she found out that it was appendicitis and I’d be going in for surgery, she jumped in the car in the middle of the night and drove two hours to be with me, and I was a grown-ass woman at the time. It is not normal for parents not to care when their children are sick/injured/being beaten almost to death by their abusive husbands/getting crushed by a ladder truck. You mean to tell me that the footage of the crowd lifting the truck off their son didn’t go viral? That they didn’t see that?

Fuckers.

You don’t like something so you just bury your head in the sand and pretend it doesn’t exist? Your kids aren’t perfect so you just wash your hands of them? Their problems don’t matter, not when it’s all about you?

Narcissists.

Blaming the kids for everything, manipulating Maddie into doing their bidding - and still manipulating her as an adult, by bringing her gifts and driving across the country and being all, “we want to be grandparents!” after everything? After letting her husband nearly kill her and blaming her for having bad taste in men? FUCKKKKKK

And the fucking BABY BOX. Do not even get me started on how ANGRY I WAS.

Like, I have friends with kids (I have cats, personally) so I know that they’re busy, but to not have anything, as if he’s just not worth it.

Like I can’t

It breaks my heart to think about his face, and the realisation setting in... to know that your parents don’t love you? To have lived with that your whole life? It’s so fucking gutting.

Like, obviously I am extra emotional because I’m running on empty today, but god damn this episode just came along and punched me right in the face.

Also, I’m making a BIG CALL, they’re going to use the song ‘Daniel’ by Elton John in the next episode:

Daniel my brother you are older than me Do you still feel the pain of the scars that won't heal? Your eyes have died, but you see more than I Daniel you're a star in the face of the sky

100% they’re using that song, I’m calling it now, and if they don’t, it is a wasted opportunity.

Okay, let’s end on a good note, because this has been a rant:

Eddie’s open concern for Buck; the fact that Buck tells Eddie about his therapy, that he feels comfortable opening up to him - that Eddie was there, watching Buck beat the shit out of the boxing bag and listening to him, and taking his side and reassuring him... that is next level shit and I am here for it.

I am not here for the return of Ana in the next few episodes but that’s a future rant

Hopes for Buck Begins:

That the firefam - his real family - will rally around him, and that Buck and Maddie will take a united stand against their parents and tell them to get the fuck out of their lives.

Also I kinda want Bobby to meet the Buckley’s? Just... for him to be horrified, I guess? I don’t know, but I want Bobby to meet them and understand how awful they are and offer Buck some comfort as his surrogate father.

I would like Buck to be hugged by someone who loves him, please, because he needs it.

And selfishly, I want some kind of Buck, Eddie and Christopher scene, because they are also his family. Everyone in this show has their little family unit, and Eddie and Christopher are Buck’s.

Ana be damned

[the-edge-of-great]

I'm jittery on coffee, lack of food, and I had a stressful day, so here’s some angst. 1700 words of pure angst. enjoy :)))

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

As a teenager, it was an alliance between friends. Brothers.

Protect Luke, they thought. Keep his location a secret. His parents are being unreasonable. This is what he’s born to do.

But in secret, they knew. They shared looks over his shoulders, silent concern that they never spoke on. Never discussed because they took an oath. They took Luke’s side, always.

Bobby thought he’d get over it. He thought they’d make up eventually; they just needed a few weeks to cool off.

But then weeks turned into months. 

Luke stopped going to school.

And the Missing Person posters began showing up.

And then a year had passed. Luke stopped talking about them. The guys didn’t bring it up.

Bobby’s own parents never caught on to the extra person living in the garage. Luke slept on the couch, but when Bobby’s parents came over, he hid in the loft. Bobby snuck food out to him. They spent long nights in the studio on the floor, backs against the couch as they listened to Bobby’s CD collection. So many almost-normal nights with his heart heavy with guilt eventually turned into a new normal. He shoved the guilt away and locked it up until it simmered into numbness he could ignore.

After they died, Bobby learned to block everything out. He liked to think he forgot; that’s what he told his therapist. His wife. His daughter. Maybe if he said it enough, it would actually happen.

The Pattersons invite him in with a smile. They’re warm, kind, exactly how he remembers. He wishes he could remember how to smile back at them.

Their house looks the same as it did when he was sixteen, celebrating Luke’s birthday in their living room. They didn’t stay long that day; Luke’s relationship with his parents was just beginning to crumble. He and the guys left quickly after cake because they had to practice. His parents weren’t happy. Luke didn’t care.

“How have you been, Bobby?” Mitch asks. He takes a seat next to Emily. She reaches for his hand; they smile at each other. Trevor’s heart hurts. “Sorry, you go by Trevor these days don’t you?”

Trevor nods stiffly. “I do. Yeah, um, I’ve been good. Things are good.”

“Working hard on your next album, I assume?” Emily says with a smile. “We have all of your CDs, you know.”

He swallows thickly. “That’s… actually what I wanted to talk to you about. I have something for you.”

The envelope is numb in his fingers as he hands it over. Emily’s warm smile never falters, though her eyebrows scrunch together in confusion as she grabs it. While she tears it open, Mitch asks, “What’s this?”

“Compensation.” Twenty-five years too late.

“Oh my,” she gasps, sliding the check out of the envelope. “Bobby—Trevor—”

“I couldn’t track down Alex and Reggie’s parents,” he explains quickly, wiping his palms against his pants. “So, you’re getting all of it.”

Emily shakes her head. “I don’t understand. Why would you—”

And—how do you tell a secret you’ve kept for twenty-five years? How do you rip a bandage off that you yourself cemented into place years ago?

He was only sixteen when Luke ran away from home. Couldn’t tell anyone: not his parents or Reggie’s or Alex’s. It weighed on him like lead. He resented Luke for a long time. How selfish could he be to ask his friends to lie to their parents? To the police when they questioned Luke’s disappearance? They were teenagers. Kids.

He was only seventeen when his best friends died. For a long time, he replayed that night in his head. He should’ve warned them about those street hotdogs. Should’ve tried harder to make them consider a diet change—he didn’t trust that street vendor; never did. But they loved that place, so maybe that’s where his first lie came from. His band was so supportive of everything, even his sudden decision to swear off meat. Maybe he should’ve gone with them, could’ve been the one to steer them away when the dogs tasted funny or called an ambulance to get them help faster. Maybe he could’ve saved them.

“I stole Luke’s music.”

He doesn’t hear himself speak. Did he finally say it?

Emily’s face crumbles. Mitch’s twists into anger.

Yeah, he said it.

“You what?” Mitch says. His voice is controlled; he’s never been the emotional one.

Trevor continues with a dry mouth because he has to; there’s no going back now: “My parents found his notebook in my garage after he died. I was afraid of what they’d do if they found out I’d been hiding Luke there, so I said it was mine. Then they read through the songs, and they thought I needed to share them. My dad knew a guy, they got me in a studio, and then—”

And then.

“—before I knew it… They were my songs. At least, that’s what LA thought. Then the entire US. Then Canada, England… It all happened so fast,” he added quickly, trying to explain better because they were getting angry.

“You never credited him,” Mitch accuses. “Any of them. They were your friends—!”

Emily’s seconds away from breaking. She’s quiet when she speaks, soft as ever: “Luke was with you.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. His own eyes are filled with tears. “I’m sorry. He told me—told us to keep quiet. We promised, made an oath—”

“We told the police,” she continues, as if she can’t even hear him. Maybe she can’t. Maybe she’s as numb as he is now. “We bothered them for months after Luke’s disappearance, called every other week for updates. We covered the city in posters with his face on it. I just wanted to know that he was okay. That he wasn’t on the street somewhere—” Tears spill over her cheeks. She doesn’t wipe them away; her gaze is fixed on the check. “I drove down dozens of streets, checked every corner I knew of that had street performers usually, hoping I’d see him. Hoping I could… convince him to come home…

“And he was just—” Her smile is watery, broken. She finally looks at him. He wants to puke. “He was safe.”

Trevor’s shoulders tremble with the dam that finally breaks. “I’m so sorry,” he sobs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know any better. I was—we were kids. He was a kid. He missed you every day. Never stopped thinking about you, even if he never said anything. I wanted to say something. I know Alex and Reggie did too. I think we just… we just…” He sniffs, wipes his eyes, rubs his hands over his face. “We thought you guys would make up. We thought everything would work out in the end. And it would’ve! I know it would’ve, if he hadn’t…”

For a long moment, they don’t talk. Nobody does; they can’t find enough strength between the sobs wrecking their bodies, making their throats raw. Emily cries into the safety of Mitch’s arms. Trevor’s fingers wrap around his own arms. He wipes his nose with the back of his hand, focuses on the window, on the bright sun pouring in. The curtain moves, he swears, but he doesn’t think anything of it. Even though he can’t feel the air, he tells himself that’s what it is.

“We were supposed to play the Orpheum,” he whispers, and his voice crumbles and gives on the last syllable. His head falls to his hands. The Orpheum. He was supposed to play the Orpheum with his best friends. They were about to make it.

Emily sniffs. She gently tears away from her husband, wipes her eyes, and stands. “Thank you for the offer, but we don’t want your money.” She leans over the coffee table to offer the check. “We don’t need it.”

It slips between one trembling hand to another. He stares at it: Five hundred thousand dollars. Should be more. Even if they don’t want it, it should be more. Five million. Ten. They deserve so much more.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, even though that carries no weight. No amount of apologies will bring Luke back. Or Reggie. Or Alex. He can’t fix anything. Actually, he’s probably done the most damage. Twenty-five years of lies.

The sun is too bright outside. He stumbles through the yard, check clenched so tightly in his hand that the edges are cutting into his skin. The lights on his car flash like he’s just unlocked it. Or, maybe he locked it again. Doesn’t know; can’t hear. Can’t focus on anything except his band. His best friends. His brothers. They left him, but what did he do?

He stole their lives. Their dream.

Trevor stumbles into the door. His crying is louder inside, clogs his eardrums and rattles through his body painfully. Everything is so painful. He clutches at his heart.

The air conditioning is on full blast—the coldest it can go—when he turns it on. His windows fog up; he doesn’t notice.

Not until—something squeaks in his ear. He jolts in surprise, head whipping around in a blur.

There are letters, but they’re backward. There are also voices—he swears he can hear voices. Arguing, critiquing that sounds too much like—and then a word. A backward word. And when his breath catches in his throat and his body freezes over all over again, he knows he’s not as numb as he thought because he can see it. And he knows—he knows. It’s them. They’re there. Were there. Still are? Whatever it is, he bursts into tears again. Happy tears. Sad tears. So many emotional tears that his head is spinning.

But his chest—his chest is loosening. There’s a weight disappearing. He feels like he can breathe for the first time in twenty-five years.

Bobby

As the letters begin to bleed, a new spot of fog forms on the window. He watches in amazement as someone spells three more words. It’s Alex, he thinks. Has to be. After all these years, he still recognizes that handwriting—Alex has always had the best handwriting out of their group.

Once the last word is finished, they’re gone. He doesn’t know how he knows, he just does. And in their place, they leave reassurance. They leave peace:

We forgive you

[foxthefanboi]

Thoughts on the Finale

So on the off-chance that my followers care about what I thought of the finale, I wrote a 1,700-word meta. I know, probably overkill, but here it is. In summary: I know the finale was really unpopular with many people. Dean dying early, not addressing Cas’s confession, no reunion with their found family, etc. But I loved it. I was happy and satisfied with the ending. It’s not easy wrapping up a show like this, but it’s just what I needed. Here’s my thoughts on the finale and a defense of some of the things people were upset about: 

The Timing of Dean’s Death

Okay, so I know a lot of people are upset about Dean’s death, that he didn’t get to live a full life like Sam did. It is pretty upsetting. (Mainly, I really wish he’d gotten a chance to be a dad.) And I see how it conflicts with the theme of the season, which is free will and defying the fate of dying a violent death while hunting that they expected.

On the other hand, I think Dean was satisfied with his life when he died. It was the death he was always expecting and had accepted. He did a lot of good in his life and really he just wanted peace at that point, you know? Sure, he could’ve lived a longer life but I don’t think he felt like he was missing out when he died. Personally, I doubt he would’ve given up hunting, so his life would’ve been more of the same until he died, still probably from hunting. A full life would’ve been great, but Heaven was great for him too.

[Edit: Just read a post where they mentioned Dean was tired which was a point that was made again and again in the show and I think that’s part of why how he went out is okay! He loved hunting, he loved hunting with his brother, but it’s not sustainable and it wore him out and his peace is Heaven rather than an apple pie life, and that’s okay.]

The Manner of Dean’s Death

I sort of wish Dean’s death had been a little more dramatic. I mean, he did just defeat God and everything. And then he gets taken out by a spike in the wall? But I was okay with the hunt-gone-wrong thing. It seemed like sort of a lame death, but remember Asa Fox, the other legendary hunter? He died from tripping and hitting his head on a rock after his friend pushed him, so. It’s not unheard of, even for great hunters. And Dean would’ve died after being electrocuted in a pool of water in season 1 if a reaper hadn’t saved him. Unlucky deaths… Yeah, they happen.

But I do think it would’ve been good to have a more death-y death because Dean standing against a post didn’t give the immediacy of dying that some of the other deaths. He did have a couple of pained gasps and all that, but there wasn’t really blood showing or the obviousness of being so close to death, not the way that his Metatron death scene gave, for example.

Still though, I really did love the death scene. Like, I hated it, because it was heartbreaking and it made me cry, but it was just really emotional in the best way. Everything Dean said to Sam about looking up to him, and how he felt when he went to see Sam at Stanford, and then “I love you so much. My baby brother.” And then the forehead touch.

Honestly I sort of get the feeling they killed Dean off early just so that they could give us one last, weighty goodbye scene to be emotional about. Remember how much it hurt when Dean said goodbye before going to hell in season three? Or when Sam said goodbye in season 5 before saying yes to Lucifer? Or in season 11 when Dean went to stop Amara? That was all really good stuff. This was one last sendoff they couldn’t have given us if Dean had just lived his normal life.

Sam’s Life

I’m at least glad Sam got to live his life. That’s been his dream over and over since when he was a kid, when he went to college, when he took a year off with Amelia… And he finally got to have it. I’m not set on this opinion but, because of their codependency, I don’t think either Dean or Sam could’ve had something like that with each other in their lives, so Dean’s death ultimately sort of allowed Sam to live. If that makes sense.

What hurt me the most about this whole episode is that Sam had to live decades without his brother. They had thirty-seven years together (give or take a few missing years in the middle), which is a long time, but since Sam died of old age, that’s like half his lifetime without his brother! Decades!!!! I really wonder how Sam’s memory of Dean changed over that time, as he became a more and more distant memory…

zmediaoutlet had a cute post-episode Heaven fic where Dean and Sam are reunited and Sam has all the time he needs to tell Dean about every single part of his life. Even though Dean wasn’t there for it, he could get caught up in Heaven, which was… Just a nice thought. In my opinion.

We needed some closure on Eileen :(

Okay, so I was happy with how the show did Dean and Sam’s deaths. But they did leave us hanging on some pretty important things. Like, where the fuck was Eileen? Last we heard about her, Sam was crying about losing her after she got Thanos-snapped by Chuck. Presumably she came back, but even though she and Sam had been dating, he never checked in on her. And then Sam had a faceless wife. Couldn’t they have given us something more? John Winchester has shown up in flashbacks without being played by JDM or shown clearly and it’s obvious it’s him. They couldn’t have done something similar for Eileen? Like, Sam signing something to her as she watches him play catch in the backyard with Dean Jr.? I’m just gonna assume the faceless wife was Eileen, but some official endorsement would’ve been nice.

We really needed some closure on Cas :(((

Cas confessed his love to Dean in 15x18! Romantic love, according to the writers and actors!! This is a really big deal!!! But we never got to hear Dean’s thoughts. He never talked about it. The crying in the bunker after losing Cas, that really showed his grief, I thought. But we never actually got to see him react beyond that.

I read that, based on Becky’s Funko Pop set-ups, there was foreshadowing that Cas and Dean would at some point be outside the Harvelles’ Roadhouse together, and that this should’ve happened in the finale and probably would’ve if it hadn’t been for casting restrictions due to COVID. So. I’m just gonna go with saying that happened off-camera, and that Dean and Cas were reunited in Heaven. And that’s what fics are for! Maybe Dean’s straight and/or maybe he didn’t reciprocate. But maybe he did and he and Cas are in love and living(?) happily in Heaven together. The show never told us, which is kind of sad, because that would’ve been a nice, official ending. But it’s nice to have it open, too.

Is Heaven as an ending sort of a copout?

I read a post that said that Heaven as an ending is a copout because why even bother living if you’re going to eternal happiness in the end? Which is, you know, a pretty good point. I’ve said before that the Winchesters fight way too hard to bring people back when those people are happy in heaven. Like, remember when they were heartbroken over Rowena’s death? And then it turned out she was “living” her best life as the Queen of Hell and wondering why she’d been so worried about dying in the first place.

Anyway, some type of eternal afterlife has been inevitable since the very beginning of the show, so this has always been a point. It’s not just a finale thing used as a convenient way to wrap it up with a happy ending. It is a logical happy ending. Seriously.

I think there’s a couple things that kept the boys going. One, they had to keep living so they could effectively fight forces not only of Earth, but of Heaven, Hell, etc. as well. They were making the world a better place not just for the people who were living in it, but for the people who had passed and were in Heaven as well. Also they got a lot of closure they couldn’t have gotten if they were dead, e.g. against Azazel, etc. I feel like not getting that would’ve haunted them, even if they were in Heaven.

Second, you can’t really have new experiences in Heaven. Based on what Bobby said about time passing differently, you just sort of hang out in a blissed out state with your loved ones. Presumably there can be changes in relationships, but no one in Heaven is gonna work on a career, or have kids, stuff like that. Sam got that when he lived his life, and I think he needed to have that in a way that Dean didn’t.

The Winchesters changed heaven!

Also, it’s important to note that sure, if Sam and Dean had just decided Heaven was way more worth it than Earth, and they hadn’t brought each other back again and again, they would’ve saved themselves a lot of suffering. But then Heaven would be way different than how it ended. No more corrupt angels running things, no more threat of evil archangels, no more God interested in a story more than the well-being of the souls in his universe. Jack was good because of their efforts, and he’s just the God the universe needed. (And also Heaven was pretty close to shutting down from a lack of angels to power it so that would’ve sucked.) Basically, in summary, their lives and what they did with them is specifically what allowed them to have eternal peace and happiness. So they had good, meaningful lives. They changed things for everyone, everywhere, and now they deserve Heaven.

In summary

They carried on, and there was peace when they were done. What more can we ask for from a finale?

[myinconnelly1]

A Life Unlived: Life is Full of Surprises pt. 1

Masterlist / Previous

Word Count: 1613

A/N: Season 6!

Warnings:  themes of cheating, canon gore, angst- oh so much angst, implied character death (canon). 

September 2010

“Bobby?”  Myin called as she opened the door to his home very slowly.  He had been working hard to try and break his contract with the demon Crowley to no avail.  “Bobby are you here?  I brought you something to eat?”  She could smell something burning and a scream of agony from the basement.

“Oh hey, Myin,”  Bobby said coming back upstairs and closing the door behind him.  “Hi there little Jenny,”  He cooed at the little girl.  “What’s going on?”

“I brought you some food, I didn’t think you’d have bothered to eat correctly,”  Myin teased him, as she offered a covered bowl.

“You spoil me,”  Bobby grinned slightly.  “Why are you really here?”  He said as they walked into the kitchen and Bobby got a spoon.

“Alright, not that we need a reason to visit Uncle Bobby,”  Myin smiled bouncing Jenny on her hip.  “But, I thought I saw something snooping around my house.”

“You still got that sigil up from Kali?”  Bobby asked.  Myin nodded.  “I’ll come check it out for you guys tomorrow okay?  Dani and Penny with their grandma?”

A knock on the door got Bobby and Myin’s attention before she had a chance to respond.

“Are you expecting someone?”  Myin whispered and bobby shook his head.  They walked over to the door and Bobby answered it. Jody and a federal agent were standing there.  Jody looked pissed, then saw Myin and exhaled some maintaining her poker face.

“Bobby, this is Special Agent Adams of the FBI.  He has some questions for you,”  Jody huffed in an exhausted fashion.

“Listen, Singer.  We aren’t finished with my problem.  I expect and update from you about the issue,”  Myin took on a grumpy customer look and started to storm out of the house past the FBI agent.  “Oh!” She turned on her heel for extra emphasis.  “And don’t screw it up this time.”

Myin left the house as quickly as she could hoping that her performance had helped Bobby in any way and that the FBI agent wouldn’t come to her hoping to ask questions.  She just had to hope that Bobby would figure out what was stalking her house.

October 2010

Dean had heard enough with his many recent conversations.  Between the woman telling him about her boob job, then Bobby’s overshare.  He was still reeling with the revelation from Lisa.  Sam’s answers were the only befuddling part, but they did set him at ease slightly.  Now he just needed to know how to break this curse.  He hit speed dial 9 something he hadn’t done in a long time.

“Dean?”  Myin’s voice was quiet and unsure as she answered his call.  “Why are you calling me?  I thought you had moved on?”

“I uh- look I was an asshole,”  He sighed deeply.

“You’re damn right you are.  You call me out of the blue without ever coming back and checking on us.  I didn’t know how I was going to handle everything.  Do you know how hard things were for me after you left?!”  Myin had unwittingly slipped into the role of the truth sayer that his curse was forcing him to live through.  Dean fought back his hurt.

“Myin, stop.  I’ve been cursed,”  Dean said trying to give her some dignity.

“What?  Are you going to die?!  I just got a hold of you and your going to die?!  I can’t go through that.  Not again.  Not after Sam.  The girls need me, I just don’t think I would make it.  Please don’t say you are going to die.  Please just lie to me instead,”  She huffed at the end.  “What the hell?  I didn’t want to say all of that?”

“Yeah, I’m cursed to hear the truth from people that are talking to me.  Trust me, it’s kinda annoying,”  Dean chuckled at the hurt that he felt for Myin.  “People keep springing important information on me that I wish I had known earlier.”  The phone clicked.  “Myin?”  He looked at the screen of his phone seeing that the call had ended.

“What’s going on?”  Sam asked meeting up with him by the Impala.

“Just trying to figure out how to break this dumb curse,”  Dean responded putting his phone away for the time being.

The brothers had been caught by the goddess Veritas, and forced to play a game of what she called ‘truth or truth’.  

“You're covered in blood until you're covered in your own blood. Half the time, you're about to die. Like right now. I told myself I wanted out… that I wanted a family.”  Dean said sighing.

“But you were lying,”  The Goddess said to him with a smirk.

“No. But what I'm good at… is slicing throats. I ain't a father. I'm a killer. And there's no changing that. I know that now,”  Dean said regretfully.  As if on cue Dean’s phone started to ring.

“Who’s Myin?”  Veritas asked coyly.  “Oh well, I guess you won’t get to find out what she has to say.  Cause you will be dead.”

“Ever since I came back, I am a-a better hunter than I've ever been! Nothing scares me anymore! 'Cause I can't feel it. I don't know what's wrong with me. I think… I need help,”  Sam said after they had killed the goddess.  But Dean had had enough of his lies.  He turned and punched his brother, but all the hurt and rage that he had kept bottled up for the last year fueled him and Dean just kept hitting Sam.

He finally got off of his brother, then remembered that Myin had called.  He hauled Sam into the Impala then started the drive to the Campbell’s compound.  He pulled out his phone to listen to the message the woman left him, knowing that she would have still felt compelled to tell the truth.

“Dean, there is a lot I need to tell you, but I can feel the magic and I don’t want to tell you everything because you are cursed.  I guess the two most important things I need to tell you is that I have a baby and that I’m not sure we can ever go back to being together.  It felt wrong to betray Sam even after Ruby, but I won’t deny that I think I was in love with you.  Oh who am I kidding.  I’m still in love with you… Shit!  This dumb curse is strong.  Anyway, we should talk about… everything.  But after this curse it gone,”  That was the end of the message.  Dean felt his heart shattering.  He was confused and hurt, but he also knew he was right to stay out of her lift when Sam had died.  He didn’t want to drag her down with him.

December 2010

“Myin, what are you doing here?”  Bobby asked when he answered the door.  He looked over his shoulder into his house in a paranoid fashion then stepped out to talk with her on the front porch.

“You asked me to bring you some things?”  Myin asked looking at him suspiciously.  Bobby sighed knowing that he had made himself look guilty.

“Balls.  Look, I’m sorry.  I know I asked for stuff yesterday, I forgot.  It’s been busy,”  Bobby said fiddling with his hat.

“Hard hunt?”  Myin asked looking around before her eyes settled on a car that answered all of her questions.  “Dean is here?”

“Yeah… I should have warned you.”  Bobby said twirling the short strands of Jenny’s hair.  “She really looks like him.  You guys should go before he comes to find me.”

“Who comes to find… Myin?”  Dean asked as he walked around the side of the house from working on his car.  Dean saw Jenny, and looked down at his feet.  “Sorry, I guess that was me.  I’ll give you some space.”

“Wait…”  Myin said before biting her tongue.  Dean turned to look at her.  “You never called me back.”

“Yeah I’ve been-”

“Busy,”  Myin said at the same time as Dean, her shoulders slumping a little.  “I have a lot to tell you, Dean.  We should talk some time.”

“I’m gonna go inside,”  Bobby said giving Dean a very harsh look, that the Winchester didn’t think was warranted.

“I have stuff to say as well,”  Dean said.  “I think I should tell you my thing first so you understand that I haven’t been avoiding you.”  Myin nodded to let him speak first.  “Sam is alive.  Actually, he was never really gone.  I didn’t know that until a couple weeks ago.  But He’s not okay.  He didn’t have a soul.”

“Sam’s alive?”  Myin’s eyes watered with tears and the hurt was written all over her face.  She cleared her throat.  “I can see why that would make you very busy.”

“I’ve been working to get his soul back, and I’m hoping he will be okay,”  Dean said, sadly.

“This is my daughter, Jenny,”  Myin said bouncing the young child on her hip.  Dean looked at the little girl, she was older than Dean expected her to be, and absolutely gorgeous.  He hair was fine and still short, but a sandy blond, and her grey eyes had flecks of green and brown, much like Dani’s.

“She looks like the other girls,”  Dean said smiling a bit.

“They get a lot of features from me, but I think Jenny looks like her dad,”  Myin swallowed hard at the end of her sentence.

“Oh,”  Dean said almost bitterly.  He knew he couldn’t be with Myin, but he was certain that he had almost loved her at one point.

“Dean, meet your daughter,”  Myin said letting his hold the young girl.  “She was born the day you told me Sam had died.”

@waywardbaby​ @destielhoneybee​ @snffbeebee​ @deangirl7695​ @spnbaby-67​ @maddiepants​ @ladywinchester1967​ @woodworthti666​ @miraclesoflove​ @tumbler-tidbits​​ @emilyshurley​​ @akshi8278​​ @mannls​​ @wendibird​​ @bobasheebaby​​​ @theoneandonlymelol​ @chelsea072498​​ @donnaintx​​ @justsomedreaming​​ @supernaturalenchanted​​ @kalesrebellion​​ @prettydeaneyes​​ @emoryhemsworth​ @laphirablack @dontshootmespence​ @its-a-spn-thing​ @vicmc624​ @idreamofplaid​​ @anaelsbrunette​​ @winchesterxfamilybusiness​​ @kickingitwithkirk​​ @wayward-mikaelson​ @electraphyng​ @mariekoukie6661​ @ @deanwinchesterinthedarktower @katelynw93​

[mila-dans]

Spells Out Trouble: Up Around the Bend

This is chapter six of “Spells Out Trouble.” Masterlist Here!

Chapter Five: Owner of a Lonely Heart

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word count: 5020

Summary: You have been with the Winchesters for several years now going through all the literal trials and tribulations with them. What happens when Dean gets hit by a love spell and becomes head-over-heels for you? Will your pushed down emotions finally rise or will you get in over your head? Find out what happens when your best friend’s hard exterior becomes mush whenever you end up in his eyeline.

Just so you know: This is my first Fanfic so sorry if there are aspects missing. “Spells Out Trouble” is a series with about ten chapters. If you have any suggestions or tips, I’d love to hear from you. Thank you and I hope you enjoy it! (Also, not my gif!)

He signaled for you to come over to a room. “So this is your room,” he said as he opened the door. You ran inside and took off your wet layers that became soaked from the rain. “I paid for three nights upfront. Me or Cas should swing by later with some of your clothes and stuff. Okay?”

You go back towards the door.

Slam

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

Crying. Sobbing. Screaming. Terror.

“Help!”

“Help us, please!”

“I just want to go home!”

“Help me! Save me! Please!”

The cries and pleas for help continue. It sends shivers down your spine and makes you feel as if you too were in just as much anguish and pain. The lights kept flashing on and off. All your senses were distorted. All you heard were screams, all you saw was abrupt streaks, and the smell… The smell was the worst part. It smelled rotten, nasty, filthy. Burning flesh, bones smothered with flames. It was hell. Hell on earth. The underground basement was so wide and vast, the echoes of the screams only made it more difficult to navigate.

“Mom,” you struggled to say with the heat and lack of water taking all the moisture from your throat. “Mo--Mom.” You continued to croak. You kept going through the halls, passing by all the cages filled with children. Cages that could’ve just as easily had you in. “Mom!” You try to shout, but instead only hearing the raspy affects.

“Y/N?!”

You look up to see her there. Your mom. She was covered in blood from head to toe. She reached out to you as you fell into her arms. “Momma!” You started to revitalize the idle tears that had been streaming down your face.

“I’m here, baby. I’m right here!” She says while lifting your head up to see the darkened under eyes and pale complexion. She managed to wipe some of the dried blood from your face before she put you back into her comforting embrace. “I’m right here, baby.”

“Where--where’s dad?” You muster out, sending a shocked look your mother’s way.

“He--He’s not here?! With you?!” You shake your head no in reply. “Okay,” she says trying to remain calm. “Okay. Here’s what’s gonna happen: baby, you go and you break everyone out of here. Once you do, you go with them and take them far, far away from here, okay?”

“But, what are you gonna do? I can’t leave you and dad?”

“Yes you are, Y/N! You leave and you run and you keep going! Don’t stop and don’t come back. I’m gonna create a distraction to keep the witch busy. Then I’m gonna find your father and everything will be alright. Okay, baby? Can you do that for me?” She nods yes to your nodding no.

“No! Momma, I can’t leave you!” You cry out.

“Yes, you can. You will. And then tomorrow, we will go out for a snow cone like we always do for your birthday. Okay? It’s okay.”

“No, mom,” you keep saying.

“Yes. And look at this,” she pulls out a silver dagger, “here’s an early birthday present. Okay? Happy early sweet 17 Baby!” She pulls you in for another hug. She remains strong even as the world seemingly falls apart. “I love you, baby!” She says as she pulls away.

Lights flash. People scream. She’s gone.

--

After getting all the kids from the cages and taking them outside and down the street, you looked back at the witch's house. Your mother, your father, your life was still inside. And quickly, you too were inside.

--

You walked up from the basement, into the living room. You knew you were going against your mother's words, but you didn’t care. You needed to save them. You had to help them. You stood behind a big china cabinet in the dining room, watching as the witch had your parents pinned to the wall.

“This is what happens, you imbeciles, when you screw with me!” The witch shouted. “You die!” She started to choke your parents with just the formation of her hand.

“No!” You shouted as you leaped from behind your shield. “Let them go!” You ordered as you aimed your gun at the witches head.

“Oh, honey,” the witch says with a smile. “That was real stupid.” She lets your parents fall down and then she grabs a knife, turning her attention towards you.

Thud

“No!” You scream out as you go to your mother. Your father raced after the witch but you stood by your mother’s side. In shock. In peril. “No. No. No,” you say as tears start to form. This was all your fault. If you would’ve just stayed outside and listened to your mother, your now dying mother. Your mother who is bleeding out all over the floor from a knife to her heart. The same mother who jumped in front of you, is now choking on her own blood.

“Pr--Promise me..” She says as the blood overflows her mouth. “Take care of your father--take care--I love…” And with that, her last dying breath, she made you promise to take care of your father. A promise that you so stupidly and selfishly broke. Only two years later did you leave your loving dad. Only three years after that did your dad die, only two days after your own mother’s death anniversary. You left, they died. You tried, they died. No matter what you do, they still die. You killed them. It is all your fault. All of it is on you. All those lives and their blood are on your hands.

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

“Ah! Ah! No! Ah!” The screeches sounded worse than the sirens.

“Y/N!”

“Ah! Ah!”

“Y/N!”

“No! Ah! Ahh!”

“Y/N, wake up!”

“No!” You said as you shot up from the bed. Sam had his arms shaking you so that you could awake from your nightmare of memories.

“Hey! It’s okay!” Sam says as your heart beats faster and faster. He puts you into an embrace holding you tight and close as he rubs your back. “It’s okay.”

“No!” You say as your voice cracks.

“It’s okay. Deep breaths, Y/N. Deep breaths. Shh. Shh.” Sam tries to help you calm down.

“No,” you say, still stuck in the nightmare.

“Cas, get some water!” Sam orders. “It’s okay. Deep breaths. Deep breaths.” Sam pulls you away from him and props some pillows behind you. “It’s okay, Y/N. Here,” he says as he gives you some water.

You take a minute to stop the loud pounding in your chest. You notice the surroundings. It was Sam and Castiel in the motel room where they had last left you. The door looked as if it had been busted open while remaining on slightly damaged hinges.

You take a deep breath as Sam and Cas look at you while sitting on the bed. “What happened?” You say as you clear your throat.

“We didn’t hear from you yesterday,” Cas says. He was right. It had been three days since you found a new residence in this motel and you tried to send a text or a call every day. Yesterday, you just didn’t.

“Yeah, we figured we’d come by to check in one you. We came and then we heard the screams,” Sam continues.

“Yes, I knocked down the door so that we could make sure you were alright. Are you alright? Did someone do this to you?” Cas asks. Always worried.

“Ha,” you laugh sarcastically. “I wish someone did this to me. That way, I could kill them.” You smile trying to lighten the mood and take another sip of water, trying to strengthen your hoarse voice.

“What is it then?” Cas asks again.

You chuckle. “Sam knows. It’s called night terrors.”

“I didn’t know that you had them, Y/N,” Sam replies with a sincere voice.

“Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me, pal.”

“Actually, Dean told us what happened.”

“Right.”

“I’m sorry for what happened, Y/N,” Cas says. “I would’ve never asked how you were if I knew how you were.”

“It’s alright, Cas. I think that’s how the whole asking thing works.” You smile trying to change the tone of the situation.

“Y/N?” Sam asks.

“Yep?”

“Why,” Sam takes a deep breath. “Why didn’t you tell us that? That’s insane to keep all of that to yourself.”

“It--It’s sad. It’s my fault and I didn’t want you guys to think less of me. I mean, you’ve already accepted me as a part of your family, one which I do not belong in.”

“That’s not true, Y/N. It wasn’t your fault and you are just as much a part of this family as me, Dean, and Cas are family.” Sam goes in for another hug. “We love you, Y/N. So much. I love you and you don’t have to hide anything.”

“He’s right,” Cas adds. “About everything. I think of Sam and Dean as brothers just as much as I think of you as a sister.” You wipe your eyes and smile.

“You don’t have to deal with that type of stuff alone. We are here for you, right now.” Sam smiles at you. You look to Cas and he is doing the same.

“Okay,” you let out as you straighten your position on the bed.

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

You told them everything. You let it all out. For the first time, in ten years, you finally opened the memory drawer and viewed it all. Your life as a hunter, your mother’s death, your leaving your father, your father’s death, and you finally running away. You ran away and then ran to the Winchesters. The three of them had saved your life. Again. And again. And now. The cheesy therapy session that you had between Sam and Cas actually helped. That part of your life has left a scar but there’s no need to keep picking at it. It’s in the past. You’re in the present. Time to look to the future.

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

It had been a month since you left the bunker. Two weeks since you left the crappy motel room and instead moved to one of Bobby’s old hunting cabins. And one week since you last saw one of the boys. Sam and Cas would check in everyday. Occasionally they would even visit to bring some supplies or just to see how you were. You had worked a case or two with Cas while Sam was off doing who knows what with Dean. You hadn’t talked to Dean since that night. The night that he kissed you and instead of continuing the kiss, you had run away. You were still worried that Dean might try something again so you thought it would be best if you weren’t in communication with him. Cas said that Dean had managed it all by drinking, sleeping, and refusing to eat all day. He said that Dean would go out on a hunt then right back into his bed. Heartbroken. Sam summarized. Wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t even talk.

Heartbroken. Which one of you really were?

As soon as you could find a cure, Dean’s status would just fade away. You had kept looking as did the rest of the gang, for a cure. It still bothered you every time you picked up a book to fix the situation that you didn’t really wanna fix. Your heart? Would the pain just fade away? Would it only hurt worse once Dean sees how you used him while he was under the spell? How you messed with him? Kissed him? It wasn’t drastic but it was you and Dean. Something that you have wanted for so long. You can even remember the day that you fell for him.

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

Three years ago. Chesterfield, Missouri. Damn Nazis.

“Hey, hey! We’re good,” Dean says trying to convince the little girl who had ended up in the crossfire. “Everything’s fine. Okay? Just stay right here.” The little girl nods as she goes under the desk. “Good girl.”

“Where are they?!” You ask, trying to search the classrooms for the kid that the Thule had taken.

“I don’t know! I don’t know!” Dean says. He shoots two more guys as they walk into the art classroom with weapons aimed. “Uh, uh…. Hang on!” Dean rushes to a set of lockers.

“No!” A little boy cries out as Dean opens the door.

“Hey! Hey pal! It’s me,” Dean says warmly, trying to calm the child. “I need your help, kiddo.” The child nods his head. “Good. I need to know if there are any other exits in the school that you can think of. Any that aren’t the main or back entrance.”

“Um..” The kid thinks.

“Any places? Think real big for me.”

“The playground!”

“Playground! Great, where can we get to the playground?”

“In Mrs. Amber’s room in the east hall.” The kid nods in reassurance.

“Thanks, pal.” Dean shuts the locker again, keeping the boy safe and out of harm's way.

“East hall?” You ask. Dean nods.

--

“Where are the hunters?” Thule member number one asks. “Find them! Now!” He yells, sending away his fellow idiotic psychopaths in arms. He goes over to the little child who is cowering in the corner. “Little girl? Do you know why we are here?”

“N--no,” she replies so scared.

“Well. You are a very important child my dear,” he says as he brushes her hair.

“I am?” She croaks out.

“Oh, yes my child. Very, very important.” He pats the top of her head and moves over to a globe. “See this?” He asks, pointing to Germany. 

“America?” She asks innocently.

He chuckles. “No. This is the great country called Germany. Not some putrid collection of simple-minded barbarians and their pig sties. This, right here, is your home little girl.” He smiles, terrifying the girl even more. “No, no, no my, Liebchen. Do not be scared. You are going to see your family.”

“No. I wanna stay. I want my momma!” She starts to break down crying again.

You hear the girls screams from the halls. You move closer to the source. Dean signals for you to take out the guards as he gets the girl. “One,” he mouths out, “two, three!”

You fight and take out the five guards that wanted a piece of you. Thankfully, they didn’t have a good grip on their guns as you were able to successfully kick them out of their hands. You knocked two of the guards out with a fist to the head. The other three all tried to go at you, as you did one groin punch to another.

Pow

“Ow,” you said as the shot hit your shoulder. You didn’t have time to think or cry. You snatched the gun of his hand and shot him, the two standing, and the two on the ground. You took your hand and placed it on the pain. Two inches to the right and you would’ve been done for.

“Y/N!” Dean yells as he sees the blood on your hand.

“Hey,” you say as you start to fall. Dean runs over to you, catching you right before you can hit the ground. “Did you get him?”

“Yeah, yeah. Are you okay?” Dean asks with a worried tone.

“I uh, got shot. Been better.” You smile.

Dean rolls his eyes as he can tell it isn’t serious. “Alright, slugger.” He lifts you up and he puts your arm around his shoulder as you head back to the classroom.

--

He sets you down at a desk as he starts to go over and gather all the children from their hiding spots.

You laugh a little in your head as you watched Dean take the hands of every boy and girl, escorting them outside. One after another, after another, until it was just you and him. He made sure every kid was out and away. Sam wouldn’t have done that. He would’ve just called the cops. Castiel wouldn’t have even thought to do it. He would be set on taking care of the bodies. But Dean, Dean made sure they were safe.

Dean had a gentle heart though his hard exterior may lead you to believe otherwise. Dean had always made you feel safe. It wasn’t that way with Cas or Sam. You trusted Dean. Even his gut feelings for things amazed you enough that you view it as fact. You knew Dean would be there to catch you. He always was. You always loved to pick on him and mess with him. Maybe it was because you couldn’t deal with the fact that he was pretty perfect. He was what you saw as being perfect. He could carry the world on his back while still making sure you, Sam, and Cas were okay. He went through it all and came out the other end. He never gave up. Never quit. It was him. It was always him.

--

Dean shut the car’s door and moved over to you in the seat. “Alright, lemme see.” He said as he pulled you close to him. 

“What about the bodies?” You asked as you backed away.

“Sam can take care of it. He hasn’t done anything else today,” he answers as he pulls you close again.

“I’m fine,” you say as you slide away again. Dean rolls his eyes and pulls you back in close to him.

“Let me see.”

“No, I'm fine.”

“Well, if you’re fine then why won’t you let me see?”

You throw your head back and huff. “Fine.” You start to unbutton your flannel and strip down to your tank top. You show the wound to Dean. “There. I’m fine.” You start to pull on your shirt but Dean stops you.

“Would you quit it? Why won’t you let me help you?” Dean asks frustrated.

“Cause I don’t want your help if I can do it myself,” you answer.

“When are you gonna realize that you aren’t on your own anymore?” Dean pulls a first aid kit from under the seat. “And I know you can do it yourself but I’m here so you don’t have to.”

“I know I'm not on my own. I just don’t want to have to depend on you.” Dean wets the cloth with alcohol and places it on the wound. “Ow,” you wince.

“Well,” Dean dabs the spot and puts more alcohol on it. “Yes, you don’t have to depend on me but you also can. And I’d take advantage of that cause I die often.” He takes some gauze and wraps it around your shoulder. “You should enjoy me while you can, sweetheart,” he says with a smile.

You pull your shirt back on and button it up. “Yeah, quit dying, Winchester. It isn’t an achievement.”

“Right, but you’re just saying that cause you're a death virgin,” he smirks.

“What?! Really? You're gonna play that card?”

“Don’t worry. I don’t judge. In fact, I think it’s very pure of you,” he says with a chuckle.

“If you want me to die then I’ll go and get myself killed! You really want that?!” You say with a rising anger towards Dean’s snarky comments.

“No,” he says with a sincere tone. “I don’t want that, believe it or not.”

“Really?” You say, surprised with his shift in tone. “Why?”

“I’d uh, I’d miss you. You’re family and I’ve already lost so much. I don't want to lose my best friend too.” He looks at you as he fiddles with his keys. “So don’t die. Don’t ever die. Don’t you dare cause if you do,” he looks at you with a stern face, “I’ll kill you.” He smiles as you roll your eyes.

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

That’s when you feel in love with Dean Winchester.

After saving the kids and the moment in the car, you could tell that you had fallen head over heels for him. The last thing that you remember about that day was getting blackout drunk, and magically waking up in your bed the next morning. But you realized after your hangover that alcohol wasn’t gonna make those feelings go away.

Now, you just wish you could magically wake up from this dream. This nightmare. You hated being away from the boys, your family. Diving into cures for Dean’s ailment was a priority. You wish you could focus more. You wish you could want it more. Sure, you wanted the real Dean back but this Dean, this Dean made you feel good about yourself. This Dean looked at you like you wish he would. Dean meant so much to you and you wished you meant something to him too. You loved him. It wasn’t because of his looks or his intelligence. It wasn’t because his strength or his wit. It was his heart. His kind and loving and caring heart. The heart that sold his soul for his brother, forgave his best friend after he wronged him, and gave you redemption when you needed it.

You miss that heart.

You want that foolish heart back.

You are gonna get that heart back or die trying.

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

Bzz. Bzz.

You searched the room for your phone. You had the books scattered about the cabin and would trip over them every night and morning. It was all just one big blur. You would spend hours a day, if not the whole day, researching a cure to get Dean back. Anything and everything seemed to be a viable option.

Bzz. Bzz.

“Hello?” You asked as you picked up the phone.

“Y/N?” Sam called.

“Hey, Sam! What’s up? How is he?” You take a seat on the couch.

“He’s uh, he, he’s the same,” Sam struggles to say.

“Right,” you sigh. “Heartbroken.”

“It’s not your fault, Y/N. You did what you thought was best when you left. It’s not your fault that he’s like this.”

“Yeah, but it’s not not my fault either,” you try to explain.

“Do I miss my brother?” Sam says with a saddened tone. “Yeah, I do. But that’s why I called.” Sam pauses to take a breath. “I think we’ve got something.”

“What?” You ask.

“It’s time you come home, Y/N.”

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

“Y/N!” Sam shouts as he walks over to hug you.

“Sam!” You wrap your arms around him.

“I’ve missed you, Y/N. I’m happy you’re home.” He smiles.

“Me too and well, me too,” you say with a laugh. “Is Cas here?”

“No, he had to do something with Heaven.”

“And you let him go?! You know they want to kill him right?!”

“Yes! Yes. I know but he said he had to.”

“I’m gone for one month and already Cas is possibly in danger,” you sigh but give a sly smile.

“I know!” Sam says sarcastically. “Without you, it’s been one great big ball of chaos. I mean, no one to boss us around or make us dinner. No one to do our laundry!”

“Oh, shut up!” You say as you hit him on his shoulder. “Speaking of chaos though,” you say shyly, “where is he?”

“In his room. I told him what was going on and he thought that he should just stay out of the way.”

“Good,” you say unconvincingly. You missed him.

“I’m glad you're back, Y/N.” Sam says with a smile.

“And now that I am, what have you got?”

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

You and Sam had set up shop in the Library, going through one book after another. Sam had found an old book that had about two-hundred different spells and cures in all sorts of different languages. He called you because you just happened to be bilingual. One translation led to a book and another translation to another. It took about six hours straight till needing a break got to you. But you wouldn’t quit.

“Come on,” Sam said as he begged you to stop reading for just a second. “We’ve been looking at this all night. Give it a break.”

“No. We are so close. I can feel it,” you reply without even taking your eyes off the page.

“The more you try to figure this out, the worse of a headache you’re gonna get.”

You stare at the page and notice something. You grab the magnifying glass from the table and examine the seam of the page.

“What is it?” Sam asks, noticing your shift.

“It’s the page.”

“What about it?”

“It’s missing.” You look up at him as you both share a thought.

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

“Dean!” You yell as you race down the hall to his bedroom. You start banging on his bedroom door. “Open up the damn door now!” You shout.

The door opens slowly and you push through and start rummaging through the desk drawers. You take notice of all the empty bottles. From beer to vodka. They filled the empty space in the room.

“Where is it?! And don’t play dumb with me cause I know you took the page!” You turn to look at him. You see him for the first time since that night.

He stares at the ground with his head hung low. He has a short beard. Grown out his stubble. His complexion is paler than you've ever seen before. His freckles are showing all over his face. Under his eyes are dark circles. He’s the worst shape you’ve ever seen him in other than when he is bloodied and covered in bruises. But this was different. You could hear his heavy breaths. They were uneven. He was nervous. He looked lost. He wouldn’t let himself look at you. He was backed in the corner, scared like. He was heartbroken. Just like they said he was. Only you couldn’t picture a heartbroken Dean. This was awful and unlike any state you’ve ever seen him in. You hated to see him like this.

“Where is it?” You ask sincerely. He turns his head away, still refusing to look at you. “Dean, tell me where it is?” He stares at the ground. You turn back around and keep going through his drawers. “This would go a lot faster if you would just tell me where the page is, Dean.” You go through the box under his bed. “Why would you take it? You could’ve stopped so much from happening if you just told us you found the cure.” You find a folded page placed in a notebook.

It was it. You found the cure.

You shake your head at Dean. This all could’ve been avoided if he would’ve just fessed up to the knowing the antidote. You could cure him now. You could fix him. It would all be over. It would all just be over. You headed to the door and were going to go back to Sam and fix up a reverse spell.

“I know you’re in love with me,” you hear Dean say. His voice stops you in your tracks. The voice sounds so deep. Heavy and burdened. You turn around to see Dean standing there with tear-filled eyes. You look at him confused about his remark. “I hid the cure cause I know you're in love with me, Y/N.”

Your heart drops. “What?” You say as your voice cracks.

“I love you, Y/N. I’m in love with you and I know you're in love with me. I hid it cause I wanted you to be happy. To be happy with me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” He looks at you so lost. He looks so hurt and in so much pain.

“Dean,” you try to say but instead he rushes over and just holds you tight.

“I’m sorry,” he says as he puts his one hand on the back of your head, pushing it close to him while his other hand is wrapped around your waist. “I just have to make sure you’re real.” You wrap your arms around him and squeeze him tight.

“I’m real, Dean.” You look up to the lost boy as he looks down at you. You go to sit on the edge of the bed as you take Dean’s hand so he does the same. “Dean, we have to fix you.” The words cut your throat as they come out. “We have to fix this.” Dean tilts his head down as tears start to fall from his eyes. You put your hand on the side of his face to get him to look at you.

Poor Dean. Poor, sad, heartbroken, in pain, Dean.

“I just… I just am so happy. For the first time in forever, I’m happy, Y/N. And it’s because of you.”

“Dean, it’s not real. This isn’t real.”

“It’s real enough. I’m not hiding anything. I don’t feel burdened. I don’t feel bad, I feel great. When I see you, I get butterflies in my stomach. I feel faint just by looking at you. Your my compass, always steering me straight. I’m a wreck without you. I just want you. I want you and me till the end of time.”

“No, Dean. This isn’t really how you feel. You’ve got to know that this is just the spell.”

“I know I love you. I know you love me. And I know the only way to prove it to you is to do the reverse spell.”

“You--you wanna do it?” You asked, shocked.

“I know you’ll never accept that I love you while I’m under the spell. And you’ll never love me back while like this. I loved you before the spell and if fixing me and taking away my happiness is how I can finally get you, then it is worth it.”

You close your eyes, overwhelmed that Dean is more onboard than you seem to be. You can feel his hand on your face and as you open your eyes you see his bright emerald eyes.

“Dean…” you almost start to cry.

“Shh, it’s okay.” He smiles at you and you laugh a little. “I just want you to be happy.”

You take a deep breath and start to get up and walk towards the door. You feel Dean tug on your hand and pull you back. You turn back to look at him as he hangs on to your hand.

“Please,” he says. “Please don’t go again. Stay. Please.”

Without any objection, you walk back towards the bed with your hand in Dean’s. You lay on top of the covers facing Dean. He turns off the light and you just stare at each other. Hand in hand. Your eyes slowly close as you drift off into sleep.

“Tomorrow's Gonna Be a Brighter Day.” - Jim Croce

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Hope you enjoyed it!

Tag list is open!

@crazybutconfidentaf @doctorlilo @pillowjj @busy-bee-angel-misska @vicmc624​

​Chapter seven: Beautiful Sunday

[tabloidtoc]

National Examiner, January 25

Cover: Secret Dawn Wells took to the grave: her affair with Bob Denver of Gilligan’s Island 

Page 2: Best and Worst Celeb Tippers -- Katherine Heigl, Amy Schumer, Drew Barrymore, Jessica Simpson, Britney Spears, Madonna, Johnny Depp, Jay-Z 

Page 3: Charlie Sheen, Ben Affleck, Sean Penn, Sharon Stone, Naomi Campbell, Mark Zuckerberg, Tom Selleck and Donnie Wahlberg took the 2020 Tip Challenge 

Page 4: Goldie Hawn’s movie roles 

Page 6: Melissa Gilbert who played Laura Ingalls on Little House on the Prairie says if there’s one piece of unfinished business that emerged from the show it’s that she’d like to punch former co-star Shannen Doherty -- Shannen was only 12 when she joined the Little House cast for the show’s ninth and final season playing Jenny Wilder but in a couples therapy session with her first husband Bo Brinkman it came out that Shannen at 22 had bagged Bo in bed 

Page 7: Country star Dolly Parton may be 75 year old but that doesn’t stop her from leaping out of bed at 3 a.m. every morning -- she’s a very very very early riser and she goes to bed pretty early but she’s up and down

* Tom Hanks has been in countless movies and TV shows but his most important role in life has been as a father of four and he has tips for how to do it right 

Page 8: If you’ve soured on feeding canned dog food to your precious pooch you’re not alone -- plenty of owners are switching over to healthy people-food diets for their pets but it’s essential to get guidance from your veterinarian 

Page 9: Most of your kitty’s diet should be a nutritionally complete cat food but you can give them a treat from your plate every once in a while -- you just need to know how to choose feline-friendly snacks with nutrients they need and which they should NEVER eat -- check with your veterinarian 

* Why animals creep into our dreams -- we all dream about animals from time to time and here are some of the most common creatures of our nights and what they could be trying to tell us 

Page 10: On his 21st birthday Matt Goodman raised a glass to his late father who had left behind the money to buy his son’s first beer 

Page 11: Your Health -- the stark truth is that sleeping naked is good for you 

Page 12: Top Guns -- these Hollywood stars were fastest on the draw -- James Garner, Henry Fonda, Eli Wallach, Burt Lancaster, Roy Rogers 

Page 13: Kevin Costner, Yul Brynner, Gary Cooper, Clint Eastwood, John Wayne 

Page 14: Dear Tony, America’s Top Psychic Healer -- a lesson from COVID-19 which is work on mentally healing ourselves, Tony predicts Miley Cyrus will struggle to overcome many of her self-destructive habits, finding strength through religion and she will be back on the hit parade come summer 

Page 15: If you and your partner fight a lot here’s a great idea to grasp: holding each other’s hand is the key to better conflict resolution 

Page 16: Prince William and Duchess Kate Middleton might be royals but they’re raising their children just like any other parents and family is their first priority and Will and Kate are rarely apart from their three kids Prince George and Prince Charlotte and Prince Louis 

Page 18: Maggie the shelter stray was twice unlucky when two potential forever homes kicked her to the curb but now she’s found her true calling as a beloved K-9 officer 

Page 19: A homeless man in Atlanta put his life on the line to rescue every single cat and dog from a blazing inferno at an animal shelter 

Page 20: Cover Story -- a three-hour tour that turned into a three-season laugh-fest on Gilligan’s Island made Dawn Wells a star and she took the show’s juiciest secrets to her grave including a red-hot affair with co-star Bob Denver -- Dawn who died of complications related to COVID-19 at age 82 hid a crazy sexy side which she kept under wraps because it was the exact opposite of the squeaky-clean image se presented to the world as farm girl Mary Ann on Gilligan’s Island 

Page 22: This Michigan teen is a top Elvis Presley impersonator even performing in Las Vegas and the only one with Down syndrome 

Page 24: Texas firefighters were hailed as heroes after they rescued a four-year-old boy who had fallen down a well 

Page 25: Here’s the dirt on soil-free gardening 

Page 26: Nice Work If You Can Get It -- celebs shell out stupid money for stupid jobs -- Rod Stewart travels with a room-darkening team, Lady Gaga hates to sleep alone and her personal assistant had to get in bed with her on nights when Gaga was solo, Larry Ellison likes to play basketball on his yacht and employs a person who job it is to circle it in a boat and retrieve stray balls from the ocean, Mariah Carey has a woman who stands beside her at all times holding a drink, Snoop Dogg pays a professional blunts roller, Prince Charles has a personal dresser, Justin Bieber’s entourage includes someone to hold his drink and another to hold his slice of pizza, Sean Combs has an assistant whose only job is to carry around an umbrella for him 

Page 28: Burt Lancaster was one of Hollywood’s biggest stars acting in more than 70 movies during a four-decade-long career but he was also a silly practical joker says his daughter Joanna Lancaster one of the actor’s five children 

Page 30: Legendary actress and dancer Ann-Marget will be 80 years old in April but she’s still stepping out and making movies -- you’re not dead when you reach a certain age said the star who shot to fame when she famously dated Elvis Presley when they made Viva Las Vegas in 1964 

* Candice Bergen running wild and free at age 74 -- she recently became a first-time grandmother and is selling her hand-designed merchandise online 

* What is Marie Osmond doing during the pandemic? She bought a Harley motorcycle and so did her husband Steve and they love to go riding together -- the twosome also take walks and see their kids and grandkids and stay busy and have fun 

Page 42: All Washed Up -- surprising facts about bathing and showering 

Page 44: Eyes on the Stars -- Ellen DeGeneres goes for a spin in California (picture), Chrissy Teigen and John Legend take their kids Luna and Miles to watch planes make the tricky landing at St. Barts’ airport (picture), Joan Collins claims she once gave Bobby Kennedy the brush off because neither of them was single at the time, George Clooney can’t bear the thought of his early film Grizzly II seeing the light of day but it is set to be released later this year, Barry Gibb the last living member of The Bee Gees says life was incredibly hard after losing his brothers and bandmates Robin Gibb and Maurice Gibb who died in 2012 and 2003, Ray Liotta and Jacy Nittolo engaged, Bob Seger paid tribute to saxophonist Alto Reed a longtime member of his Silver Bullet Band who lost his life to colon cancer 

Page 45: Prince Charles and Duchess Camilla show off their walking sticks outside their home at Birkhall in Scotland (picture), Tori Spelling gets some puppy love from one of their pet pooches in L.A. with help from hubby Dean McDermott (picture), Megan Fox has moved on with Machine Gun Kelly and her estranged husband Brian Austin Green isn’t moping solo -- he vacationed in Hawaii with Sharna Burgess of Dancing with the Stars, British photographer David Bailey is dishing on his storied career in his memoir -- he claims sloshed Elizabeth Taylor tried to swipe his camera and his first impression of ex-wife Catherine Deneuve was that she was short and a bit on the fat side, Phyllis McGuire who shared the stage with her late siblings Dorothy and Ruby as the McGuire Sisters died in her lavish Las Vegas home -- she found fame through her voice and infamy through her relationship with Sin City mobster Sam Giancana 

Page 46: Good-hearted sheriff’s deputies surprised a woman with a vehicle after they kept getting calls about her walking along the highway in the freezing cold each morning 

Page 47: These UN Ambassadors use star power to help -- Emma Watson, Danny Glover, Nicole Kidman, Angelina Jolie, Antonio Banderas, Whoopi Goldberg, Susan Sarandon, Liam Neeson, Laurence Fishburne, Mia Farrow, Katy Perry, Alyssa Milano 

[julesthequirky]

Falling For The Sheriff

Summary:  Your car breaks down just outside a small southern town, and the first person to your ‘rescue’ is no one other than the Sheriff of the town, Dean Winchester. 

Chapter One

Damn, all you could get on the radio was country. Country, country and more country. You slapped your hand on the dial, turning it off. You turned up your air con. Christ was it hot in this backwater hick town.

That was the moment your car decided to splutter and choke.

“Oh no. Please, not now. Not now.”

Your car died and you groaned. Trust you to be stuck in the middle of some outback tiny town.

“Shit.”

Your hands smacked your wheel and you swung the car door wide enough for it to break off from the hinges. You stepped out into the sweltering heat.

Christ. You felt your forehead bead with sweat. You checked your phone. Ugh it wasn’t even three. You went to lift the top of your car, but your fingers burned on the black metal. You cried out in pain, snatching your hands, curling them to your body.

You kicked your car.

“Stupid piece of shi-”

“Help you, ma’am?”

You jumped and whirled around in the middle of a paddy, now looking like a deer in headlights.

The man standing before you stood in front of a black ‘69 Chevy Impala. He wore a stark white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black pants. His outfit complete with bolo tie, tan cowboy boots and a Stetson.

He was a young good-looking man.

“My car just quit on me.”

“I’ll have Bobby take a look at it.”

His voice was deep with that distinctive southern drawl.

“Oh, uh, thanks.”

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

“My accent give it away?”

“All right, little miss, no need for the sarcasm. Or I’ll have you for sass talking the Sheriff.”

He was the Sheriff?!!!

SHIT!!

“Are you really the Sheriff?” You went around to the back of your car and popped the trunk. You pulled out your suitcase, the weight almost pulling you down with it.

You looked at the man and he had his badge out. Ah shit.

“That real enough for ya?”

You nodded.

“Come on, I’ll take you to the inn, Jodie loves new faces.”

You pulled your suitcase not five steps and the handle broke.

“You kidding me?! Stupid shit!”

You went to kick it, but the Sheriff got there before you, picking up the case.

“Woah, woah now. Don’t want any injuries before you get rested. Plus, I’m the one that’s gotta write it up.”

“I got a case of the bad luck.”

“Well, now that last case of bad luck bought you here, to Creedence Creek, Texas.”

He stepped forward and grabbed the handle attached to your case and picked it up, carrying it with ease to his car. He popped the trunk, then placed it inside.

“C’mon on, you don’t wanna die of thirst out here do ya?”

You shook your head.

“No, sir.”

He went around to the passenger side door and opened it for you.

“Is being chivalrous, necessary?” You asked getting in.

“No, but it’s how many of us are raised. It’s a way of life.”

Oh. Now you felt like an ass and felt you had insulted him. He closed the passenger side door and made his way to the driver’s side. He slid in and pulled his phone out, making a call.

“Bobby! Hey, how ya doin’?”

You couldn’t hear the other side.

“I’m good, n’aw Bobs, I can’t tonight, got a ton of work waitin’ me for me back at the office. Raincheck on them drinks, alright. Alright. Listen, I got a car, just a little way’s out of town. Black, small, city car y’know the kind. Massachusetts plate, number beginning 429, yeah, you’ll know when ya see it. Great. Awesome. Thanks, I owe you one, Bobby.”

He hung up and started the engine, then drove off.

“I didn’t get your name back there, Miss.”

“I didn’t get yours either.”

He gave a small laugh.

“Alright, formally I’m known as Sheriff Winchester, but everybody in town knows me as Dean.”

Sheriff Dean Winchester. It had a nice ring to it.

“What about you?”

“Y/N. Not Sheriff, from Boston.”

“Ah a city gal. The locals are gunna love you.”

You snorted. That was an understatement, if you ever knew one. In the backwater town that was Creedence Creek, they would have a whale of a time telling you that your wat wasn’t the way things go around here. And you knew it. Southerners didn’t really mix with northern city goers. Or city goers in general.

“Will my car be okay?”

“It’ll be fine, ain’t nobody gonna take it if that’s what you’re worried about.”

It had crossed your mind and you definitely didn’t feel safe leaving it behind.

“If it’ll make you feel any better, I’ll have Bobby give you a call, I’m sure your number is tied to the plate. May I ask what you were doin’ down here? I mean to say, we don’t get a lot of city goers, that is.”

You had been looking at the scenery on the way into town.

“I had to bail out my mom.”

You didn’t want to say any more than that. Telling him a tiny snippet of the truth was more than enough.

“So, you grew up in Texas?”

You nodded. It would be best not to divulge any more family trauma. Not right now. The quicker you got home, the quicker you could forget ever coming down here.

“Alright, not much of a talker, I see. Well, we’ll be arriving shortly.”

He didn’t say anything more, to which you were grateful.

He slowed as he turned a corner. It was like the town had appeared out of nowhere. A blink and you’d miss it, kind of thing. Shops lined the main parade, with roads and paths leading away. He turned another corner and another, then entered a lot and parked in front of the sign which read Sheriff. Up ahead was the police station.

“I won’t be long. I just gotta send Bobby the number.”

You nodded.

“You can get out and stretch your legs if you like.”

You opened the door, taking him up on his offer. Opening the door had been a mistake. It was hotter than hell.

“If you come in, I can get you some water.”

You nodded.

“Thanks.”

You followed him in.

His co-workers turned as he walked in, then noticed you. You hoped to God they wouldn’t ‘recognise’ you. It wasn’t like your rap sheet was a mile long, it contained mainly a few misdemeanours, to which you had paid your fines and done the community service that was asked, but the biggie was when you had been caught with a tiny baggie which turned out to be cocaine.

You had thought your own mother would have bailed you out. No. Instead she left you to suffer the consequences she should have had. It had almost cost you your career and the ability to move out of state, but through a stroke of luck they believed in second chances and took you on.

“What did we tell you about picking up pretty strays, boss?”

“Working whilst you’re working, Winchester?”

You gave the Sheriff an odd look. Was it normal for him to pick up potential dates whilst out on patrol?

“Can it. Get her a drink of water from the cooler. She’s dyin’ of thirst,” He turned to you and gestured for you to follow. “This way.”

He walked through the tiny precinct to a little office in the corner.

“It ain’t much but it’s mine.”

You sat, waiting for him to transfer the necessary information to Bobby.

“You like it here?”

He looked up from his computer at you.

“I’m very happy here.”

He turned his attention back to his screen and whistled. Crap.

“Oofta, jaywalking, possession of marijuana, drunk and disorderly, and possession of cocaine.”

“Jesus, look, I served my time and the misdemeanours are about to come off my record anyway.”

“That felony will be on there for some time, little lady.”

You rolled your eyes at him. You could thank your mom for that.

“Whatever just send him my number and plate info. The quicker my car is fixed, the quicker I can leave this shitpot town.”

You stood up and walked out, ignoring the officer who had water in a plastic cup for you.

“I hate small towns.”

You felt too close to home. Too close for your liking. Sure, Texas was big but adding a few more states in between was preferable.  

Now outside, you looked to the trunk of the Impala. Later, right now you needed space. He already had the wrong idea about you and didn’t need him sticking his oar in where it didn’t belong. You had no idea what this Jodie person looked like, nor where the inn was. With the sun beating on you hard, you made a temporary shade with your hand and walked back into the parade.

You only managed a couple minutes before the black Impala slowed beside you and a window rolled down.

“Get in the car, you’ll die of friggin’ heatstroke out here.”

You kept on walking.

“Sheriff’s orders. Don’t make me arrest you.”

“You’d love that wouldn’t you.”

He sighed and stopped the car. Stepping out he made his way to you. He no longer had his Stetson on, but his brown hair was teased into a simple style, a hair barely out of place. Without the hat, the sun did a number on his green eyes and making them shine just as bright as emeralds.

“I won’t ask, and we can both forget this whole encounter when you leave. I’ll take you to Jodie’s, she’s expectin’ you. Also, rude, what you said abou’ my town. Don’t do that again, ‘kay?”

“Fine.”

He opened the door for you, and you got in. Once inside, he handed you the clear plastic container with water in.

“Heatstroke is no joke. It gets hot out here and if you don’t watch yourself you can get seriously dehydrated.”

You snorted, a Sheriff dedicated to his people and those just passing through, it was unreal.

“I look after my people, even fancy city folk who aren’t my people.”

You took the cup and drank. The liquid was cool and easily slid down your dry throat, though you suspected it had warmed up slightly. Secretly you were grateful, as you had felt he beginnings of a headache coming on. Hopefully at the inn, you could get settled and take a painkiller or two to stave it off altogether.

“There’s a town BBQ tonight, everyone is welcome. You should join, say hi to a few folks. They love new faces.”

The idea of free food was appealing.

“Plenty of food and plenty of beer.”

“You gonna order me to go?”

“No, no. That would be an abuse of power.”

“Right.”

“Well it’ll be at Oakwood’s Park, if you’re interested, at 5:30 ‘til late.”

You nodded and then placed the plastic cup in the holder, wondering how long the drive was to the inn. It was getting real awkward.

The car turned a corner and you met with a beautiful and large cabin. The awning read Jodie’s. Thank God. He turned into a parking spot and cut the engine. You got out, as did he and went to the trunk. He gestured at you to go to the front door, as he pulled your case out.

“Sheriff? What can I do for you?”

You gave an awkward smile.

“Oooh a new face, come on, lets get you in and get you an iced tea.”

Oh dear. You grimaced. Iced tea was not for you.

“Water’s fine.”

“Well come on in, I’m Jodie, owner of Jodie’s and I see you met our lovely Sheriff,” She leaned in as you walked. “Don’t you think the Sheriff is one fine man? Plus, I think he’s got a eye on you.”

Probably because you were still a felon in his eyes, but you didn’t say that out loud. Didn’t need the whole town knowing everything about you.

“Uhuh.”

Small towns were not your thing.

Sheriff Winchester placed your case down beside you before hugging Jodie.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, it was nice seeing you Jodes, but I gotta shoot, get back to the office.”

“Aw, youre not gonna stay for an iced tea? Never mind, we can have a good catchup at the BBQ tonight.”

“Can’t, sorry Jodes, you know how it is, got paperwork pilin’ high. It’s gonna be a late one for me, ‘m afraid.”

“Well, we’ll save you a burger or two.”

“Appreciate it, thanks.”

He turned to you and said bye, then left.

Jodie took you under her wing and set you up with a room for the night. You thanked her and lugged your suitcase to your allocated room. After unlocking and setting your case to the side you had a quick rummage through your purse to see if you had any painkillers. Downing two you then laid on the bed and let the heat from the sun lull you into sleep.

@dean-winchesters-bacon @missjenniferb

[queen-of-deans-booty]

The Song Remains The Same: Part Three

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,727

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

“Monsters. Monsters?” John repeated himself as he drove the Impala with Mary next to him, and you three in the back seat with you in the middle.

“Yes,” Mary sighed.

“Monsters are real.”

“I'm sorry, I didn't know how—”

“And you fight them? All of you?” he interrupted her.

“Yeah,” you sighed.

“How long?” John asked his wife.

“All my life. John, just try to understand.”

“She didn't exactly have a choice—”

“Shut up, all of you!” he yelled, cutting Dean off. “Look, not another word, or so help me, I will turn this car around!”

“Wow,” Dean whispered once silence fell. “Awkward family road trip.”

“No kidding,” Sam sighed.

John kept driving because Mary wanted to get everyone to safety. Apparently, she had a house that was meant to house hunters since it had salt, iron, and all kinds of gadgets that might help a hunter survive demons and spirits. Once John pulled up to the normal looking house, Mary led everyone inside of it.

“This place has been in the family for years,” she explained, flipping up a round carpet by the front door to reveal a devil’s trap. “Devil's trap. Pure iron fixtures, of course. Um, there should be salt and holy water in the pantry, knives, and guns.”

“All that will do is just piss it off,” you noted.

“So, what will kill it? Or slow it down, at least?”

“Not much,” Sam answered.

“Great,” Mary laughed humorlessly.

“He said not much, not nothing. We packed,” Dean assured her, going over to a table and setting the duffel bag down.

“We got the good stuff,” you whispered with a wink. “Hey, do you know where Y/M/N is?”

“She should be close to here. I’ll give her a call and have her come over. Is that what you want?” she asked.

“Yes, please,” you smiled.

Mary left the room to do what you asked of her, and you felt your heart sing at the thought of seeing your mother another time. She was right, she lived close because she was over not long after the call was made. Everyone except for Sam and John knew your mother was a hunter, so it wasn’t a surprise when she walked in on you and Dean taking weapons out of a duffel bag. Footsteps sounded from behind you, and you looked up to see your mother walk in the room.

Damn, she was still so beautiful.

“Y/M/N! I’m glad you made it!” you smiled, going over to her and hugging her.

“Y/N! I didn’t know you were going to be here. I’m glad that you are,” she chuckled when you pulled away. “What’s going on?”

“Angels are after Mary and John,” you began, telling her everything you could without letting her know that you were actually from the future.

“Well, I’m glad she called me because she’s gonna need us.”

“Does Mary know that you’re a—”

“Witch? Yeah, I had to come clean when she found my secret room I took you in. I had to move since her parents were becoming very suspicious. I’m doing good now,” she smiled.

“Good, I’m glad to hear it,” you nodded.

“If we put this up and she comes close,” Dean held up a paper with the angel-banishing sigil on it, and everyone’s attention was on him, “we beam her right off the starship.”

“This is holy oil,” Sam explained, taking out the can. “It's kind of like a devil's trap for angels. Come on. I'll show you how it works.”

“Hey,” John cleared his throat when Mary and Sam left, “what's the deal with the thing on the paper?”

“It’s a sigil. That means—”

“I don’t care what it means. Where does it go?”

“On a wall or a door.”

“How big should I make it?”

“John,” Dean sighed.

“What? Y'all might have treated me like a fool, but I am not useless. I can draw a damn whatever it is—a sigil.”

“Why don't you go help Sam out? Okay? 'Cause this has got to be done in... it's got to be done in human blood,” Dean explained.

John picked up a knife on the table, unsheathes it, and slices his left palm open.

“So, how big?”

“I’ll show you,” he chuckled.

“What?”

“All of a sudden, you really remind me of my dad,” Dean smiled, looking at you on the way out of the room.

Everyone had a job to do, everyone was busy with something. Sam and John were doing God knows what while Mary and your mother was pouring the holy oil on the ground in case the angels come—and they will. You and Dean walked into the room she was in once you had a minute to talk about things.

“Okay. You said you'd explain everything when we had a minute. We have a minute. Why does an angel want me dead?” Mary asked when she noticed you two.

“Yeah, I’ve been curious as well,” your mother spoke up.

“‘Cause they're dicks,” Dean scoffed.

“Not good enough,” Mary laughed. “I didn't even know they existed, and now I'm a target?”

“It’s complicated, Mary,” you sighed.

“Fine,” she and your mother stood up, “all ears.”

“You're just gonna have to trust us, okay?”

“I've been trusting you two all day.”

“It’s really hard to believe,” you tried.

“Alright then, I’m walking out the door,” she turned to leave but Dean blurted out the truth.

“I’m your son.”

“What?” she asked, whipping her head around.

“I'm your son. Sorry. I don't know how else to say it. We're from the year two thousand and ten. An angel zapped us back here. Not the one that attacked you, friendlier.”

“I’m your daughter,” you said, looking at your mom who just widened her eyes.

“You can't expect me to believe that,” Mary scoffed.

“Our names are Dean and Sam Winchester and Y/N Y/L/N. We're named after your parents. When I would get sick, you would make me tomato-rice soup, because that's what your mom made you. And instead of a lullaby, you would sing ‘Hey Jude’, ‘cause that's your favorite Beatles song.”

“I had to learn you gave up magic to raise me. It was just you and me, but I know that Bobby is my dad. He left, and it became so hard for you to talk about because you loved him so much. When you got upset, I would sing “Over the Rainbow” because watching The Wizard of Oz became a tradition every week since you used to do it with your mom,” you explained, proving to her that you were her daughter.

“I-I don’t believe it,” Mary sniffled, tears escaping her eyes. “No.”

“I knew it,” she whispered, walking over to you and grabbing your hands.

“You knew?” you asked, clearly surprised by this.

“I was raised by witches, sweetie. I had a feeling, especially when our magic is the same,” she whispered. Tears spilled from your eyes unwillingly, and she brought you in a hug.

“I raised my kids to be hunters?” Mary gasped.

Your mother pulled away from you and wiped your tears before turning to Mary.

“No. No, you didn't.”

“How could I do that to you?”

“You didn't do it because you're dead.”

“You died four years after she did,” you confessed, looking at your mom painfully.

“What? What happened?” Mary’s eyes widened.

“How?” you mother needed to know.

“Yellow-eyed demon. He killed you, and John became a hunter to get revenge. He raised us in this life.”

“The daughter of the yellow-eyed demon gets you, but she appears as a man. He was meant to come after me but got you instead, and John adopted me into his family,” you admitted.

“Listen to me. A demon comes into Sam's nursery exactly six months after he's born. November second, nineteen eighty-three. Remember that date. And whatever you do, do not go in there. You wake up that morning and you take Sam and you run.”

“That's not good enough, Dean,” Sam said from the doorway. “Wherever she goes, the demon's gonna find her. Find me.”

“Well, then what?”

“She can leave Dad. That's what. You got to leave John.”

“What?”

“When this is all over, walk away, and never look back.”

“So, we're never born.”

“It’s too late for me. Amara chose our bloodline, so whether Bobby’s the dad or not, your child will be a witch. Better me than someone else,” you sighed.

“I—I can't. You're saying that you're my children, and now you're saying—”

“You have no other choice,” he interrupted her. “There's a big difference between dying and never being born. And trust me, we're okay with it, I promise you that.”

“Okay, well, I'm not!”

“Listen, you think you can have that normal life that you want so bad, but you can't. I'm sorry. It's all gonna go rotten. You are gonna die, and your children will be cursed.”

“There—there has to be a way.”

“No, this is the way. Leave John,” Sam urged.

“Leave town,” you said, suddenly thinking of an idea. “Don’t have children. The bloodline will end with you. Amara won’t be able to use you anymore. She won’t be able to make a new bloodline.”

“I can't leave John,” Mary tried again.

“I can’t do that,” your mother sighed.

“This is bigger than us. There are so many more lives at stake—”

“You don't understand. I can't,” she interrupted him. “It's too late. I'm... I'm pregnant.”

“With Dean,” you whispered.

“I’m pregnant too,” your mother confessed, placing her hand on her stomach. Hers was just a bit bigger than Mary’s but only because you were older than Dean.

“With me,” you whispered, getting tears again.

“Yeah,” she nodded. Before anyone else had a chance to say something, John came in the room with a look of concern.

“Hey, we got a problem. Those blood things, the sigils—they're gone.”

“What do you mean gone?” you asked.

“I drew one on the back of the door. I turned around. when I looked back again, it was a smudge,” he explained.

Dean went to go check his work and came back to confirm it.

“He’s right.”

“There’s no more holy oil either,” Mary said, checking the ground where she poured it.

“They’re here,” you gasped.

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[winchesterbrotherstan]

SPN- Children Shouldn’t Play With Dead Things (2.04)

hahahhahah ohhh dean... so naive also freckles :)

Pairing: Olive Winchester (OC)

Summary: While visiting Mary’s grave, the siblings stumble upon a case. Dean’s rage rises to unprecedented levels, Sam tries to hold everything together, and Olive fears losing her brother.

Warnings: cursing, dead person, guns, dean is ANGRY, uh, the usual

Word Count: 6024

I clutched my stomach as we cruised down the road. Sam wanted to visit their mother’s grave, and Dean was having absolutely none of it. We hit a pothole, and the car jumped. I swallowed the spit in my mouth and turned from my back to my side. Jinx was still at Bobby’s, and I was glad. If she was in the car, she would’ve either thrown up or peed everywhere.

“Come on, Sam. I’m begging you.” Dean groaned. “This is stupid.”

“Why?” Sam sighed, puppy eyes most likely on display.

“Going to visit Mom’s grave? She doesn’t even have a grave. There… there was no body left after the fire, Sam.”

“She has a headstone.” Sam whispered.

“Yeah, put up by her uncle, a man we’ve never even met. So you wanna, what, go pay your respects to a slab of granite put up by a stranger? Come on!’

“Dean, that’s not his point!” I sat up in the backseat, leaning forward.

“Oh, then, please, enlighten me, Olive.”

“It’s not about a body. Or a casket. It’s about her memory!” I spat, then turned to Sam with a sad sigh. “Isn’t it, Sams?”

“Yeah. And… Dean, after Dad… it… it just feels like the right thing to do.” He sighed again.

“It’s irrational is what it is.”

I rolled my eyes. “Nobody asked you to come. Sam and I can both drive.”

“Why don’t we just swing by the Roadhouse instead? I mean, we haven’t heard anything on the demon lately. We should be hunting that son of a bitch down.” Dean offered.

Sam and I shared a look and he reached up to pat my hand. “That’s a good idea, Dean. You should. Just drop us off, we’ll hitch a ride, and we’ll meet you there tomorrow.”

“Right.” Dean huffed. “Stuck… stuck with those people, making awkward small talk until you guys show up? No thanks.”

I grinned at Sam, and he leaned his head against my hand with a soft smile. I kissed his head.

“Love ya, baby face.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, you too, bug.”

                                                               ***

Sam was by Mary’s grave. Dean was standing by Dad’s headstone with a serious pout on his face. I watched as Sam dug a small hole by her headstone, then dropped Dad’s dog tags into them.  I glanced back over at Dean, feeling like I had interrupted a sacred moment. He began to walk off, focused on something. I sighed and tightened my jacket around myself.

“Hey, bug?”

My head snapped back to Sam. “Yeah?”

He nodded his head toward the headstone. “Wanna come talk to her?”

My heart jumped in my throat. “But… Sammy…”

“Hey.” He smiled. “It’s okay.” He held a hand out. “Come here.”

I slowly inched over, then huddled into his side as I stared at her headstone. Sam wrapped his arms around me and kissed the top of my head.

“She would’ve loved you, Ollie.”

I leaned into him with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, Sams.”

He only hugged me tighter.

“Hi, Mary…” I sniffled, feeling tears well in my eyes. “I’m Olive. I’m Sam and Dean’s little sister… I wish I could’ve met you. You did a really good job.” I glanced up at Sam, who had his eyes shut and tears falling down his cheeks. “I’ll take care of them for you. I promise.”

I turned and wrapped my arms around Sam’s waist and hugged him as tightly as I could, head in his chest. He chuckled.

“I love you so much.”

I nodded, hugging him tighter. “I love you too.”

“Hey. Angela Mason. She was a student at the local college. Funeral was three days ago.”

I looked straight up at Sam, eyebrows furrowed. He sighed and let go of me, crossing his arms over his chest. I put my hands in my pockets and leaned my cheek against Sam’s arm.

“Okay, and?”

“And? You see the grave?” He pointed at it. “Everything dead around it, in a perfect circle? You don’t think that’s a little weird?”

Sam and I shared another look. “Maybe the groundskeeper went a little agro with the pesticide?”

“No.” Dean shook his head. “No, no, I asked him. No pesticide, no chemicals. Nobody can explain it.”

“Okay…” Sam sighed again.

“So what’re you thinking, Dean?” I cleared my throat.

“I dunno. Unholy ground, maybe?”

“Uh…” Sam blinked as he trailed off, and then looked down to me with an incredulous look on his face.

Is he fucking kidding me?

“What? If something evil happened there, it could easily poison the ground. Remember the uh, the farm outside Cedar Rapids?”

“Well, yeah, bu-”

“Could be a sign of demonic presence. Or, the uh, the Angela girl’s spirit, if it’s powerful enough.”

Sam nodded and turned away with another heavy sigh. Dean looked at me and his hands went up, exasperated. I shrugged.

“Well, don’t get too excited.” Dean scowled. “You might pull something.”

“It’s just…” Sam sighed again and turned back. “Stumbling onto a hunt? Here, of all places?”

“Yeah.” Dean huffed. “So?”

“So… are you sure this is about a hunt, and not something else?”

“What else could it be about?”

Sam let out another heavy sigh, shook his head, and started moving toward the car. “You know, just forget about it.”

“You believe what you want, Sam. But I… I let you drag my ass out here, the least we could do is check this out.” Dean crossed his arms over his chest and looked at me.

I groaned loudly and threw my head back, annoyed. Dean’s eyebrows only furled deeper. Sam looked at me and I shrugged.

“Yeah.”

“Fine.”

“Girl’s dad works in town. He’s a professor at the school. Let’s go.”

                                                              ***

“Dr. Mason?” Dean knocked on the open door of the office.

“Yes?”

“I’m Sam, this is Dean. This is Olive, our little sister. Uh… my brother and I, we were friends of Angela’s. We… we wanted to offer our condolences.”

“Please, come in.” Dr. Mason gestured us in.

We shuffled in, and he shut the door behind us. Sam and I sat down in the chairs across from his desk as he pulled out a photo album. Dean pulled an old book off a bookshelf and looked at the doc.

“Do you mind?”

“No, not at all, feel free.” He smiled.

Dean flipped through the pages.

I stared at the pictures as Dr. Mason paged through the book. I leaned into Sam’s side with a big sigh.

“She was beautiful.”

“Yes.” Dr. Mason smiled softly. “She was.”

“This is an unusual book.” Dean turned the book toward us.

It had greek letters and a weird triangular symbol carved into it.

“It’s ancient Greek. I teach a course.” Dr. Mason nodded.

Dean sighed as he stood behind my chair. “So… a car accident, that… that’s horrible.”

“Angie was only a mile away from home when, uh…” Dr. Mason sniffled.

“It’s gotta be hard.” Dean’s hands drummed against the chair. “Losing someone like that. Sometimes it��s like they’re s-still around. Almost like you can feel their presence.”

I glanced between him and Sam, who was now perplexed.

“You ever feel anything like that?”

“I do, as a matter of fact.” Dr. Mason kept staring at the picture.

“Well, that’s perfectly normal, Dr. Mason. Especially with what you’re going through.” Sam offered.

“You know, I still phone her.” He sighed. “And the phone’s ringing before I remember that, uh… family’s everything, you know?”

I leaned further into Sam and looked up at Dean.

“Yeah. We know.”

“Angie was the most important thing in my life. And now, I… I-I’m just lost without her.”

Sam nodded. “We’re very sorry.”

                                                              ***

“Guys, I’m telling you, there’s something going on here. We just haven’t found it yet.” Dean’s eyes were wide.

I sighed and tried to focus on my book. Sam said nothing, instead zoning out while staring at the TV.

“Hey.” Dean snapped his fingers in front of my face.

I turned the page. Dean groaned obnoxiously and snatched my glasses off my face.

“Dean! I need those to see, prick!” I tossed the book aside and sat up on my knees, reaching for them.

He held them above my head and tried to keep a serious face.

“Dean!”

“No! Pay attention to me, then you’ll get them back.”

“Sammy!” I whined, turning to him and huffing.

“Dean, so far you’ve got a patch of dead grass and nothing.”

“Well, something turned that grave into unholy ground.” Dean snapped back.

“There’s no reason for it to be unholy ground, Dean. Angela Mason was a nice girl who died in a car crash. That’s not exactly vengeful spirit material. You heard her father.” Sam got to his feet and plucked my glasses back from Dean. “Here you go, bug.”

Dean huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, maybe Daddy doesn’t know everything there is to know about this little angel, huh?”

I rubbed my eyes and slid my glasses back on. “Dean, I don’t think your average teenage girl is evil enough to turn ground unholy.”

“She’s right, Dean. We never should’ve bothered that poor man. We shouldn’t even be here anymore.” Sam put his hands on his hips.

“So what, guys? What, we just bail? Without even figuring out what’s going on?”

Sam shook his head. “I think I know what’s going on here. It’s the only reason I went along with you this far.”

I tilted my head at him.

You lost me.

“What are you talking about?” Dean scowled.

“This is about Mom’s grave.”

I shrunk into the bed and looked down at my hands. I couldn’t play referee on this one.

Dean scoffed. “That’s got nothing to do with it.”

“Dude! You wouldn’t even step within a hundred yards of it. Look, maybe you’re imagining a hunt where there isn’t one so you don’t have to think about Mom. Or Dad.”

Dean turned to him with a look of pain and disgust on his face. Sam sighed and held his arms out wide.

“You wanna take another swing? Go ahead, if it’ll make you feel better.”

Dean shook his head. “I don’t need this crap.”

He pulled on his jacket without a word, then grabbed the car keys. I scooted to the edge of the bed and sighed.

“Dean…”

He came my way and cupped my face, pressing a long kiss to my forehead. He pulled away with a soft smile and rubbed the tip of my nose. I sighed. Dean was having a lot of mood swings lately, which was understandable, but I felt guilty when he was sweet to me and cold to Sam.

“I’ll be back before you know it, princess. Love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Dean, where’re you going?” Sam called as Dean started for the door.

“I’m gonna go get a drink. Alone.”

“Be safe!” I shouted as the door shut behind him.

                                                              ***

Something whacked me in the head and I groaned, turning onto my back before sitting up. I looked down at my side to see that the TV remote had landed next to me.

“Dude, what the hell?”

“Where in the hell were you, Dean?”

I rubbed my head and looked between Sam, who was on the edge of the bed, and Dean, who had just walked in. He glanced between Sam and the TV.

“Hey!” I shouted. “Who the fuck just threw the remote at me?”

Dean and Sam looked at me before quickly pointing at each other. I groaned and threw the remote onto the other bed.

“Dean, where were you?”

“Working my imaginary case. You?”

“I was sleeping.” I deadpanned. “What d’ya got?”

“Well, you two were right. I didn’t find much.”

Sam gave a sympathetic nod and I sighed before going to lay back down.

“Except that Angela’s boyfriend died last night.”

I sat back up and stared at Dean, eyebrows furrowed. He nodded, smug. I rolled my eyes and got to my feet, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Okay, and?”

“He slit his own throat. But you know, that’s normal. Uh, let’s see, what else. Oh, yeah! He was seeing Angela everywhere before he died. But you know, I’m sure that’s just me projecting my own feelings. Ya know, Mercury must be in retrograde.”

I snorted and moved to sit next to Sam. He sighed, defeated.

“Okay. I’m sorry, maybe there is something going on here.”

I turned to him with a glare. “Maybe? You think so, Sams? I mean, wh-what was it? The suicide or the seeing his dead girlfriend part?”

“Hey.” Sam warned.

“She’s right, Sam. I know how to do my job, despite what you might think.”

I sighed. “Okay, we should check out the guy’s apartment.”

Dean leaned against the cabinet with the TV on top of it and crossed his arms. “I just came from there. Pile of dead plants, just like the cemetery. Hell, dead goldfish too.”

“So, unholy ground?”

“Maybe.” Dean sighed. “I’m still not getting that powerful angry spirit vibe from Angela.” He got up and crossed back to the table, where he plucked a pink book out of his jacket pocket. “I have been reading this, though.”

“You rat!” I gasped with a smile on my face.

“You stole the girl’s diary?” Sam was far from impressed.

“Yeah, Sam. And I’d love it if you’d appreciate my genius like Olive does. Anyways, if anything, this girl’s a little too nice.”

“So what do you wanna do?”

“Keep digging. Talk to more of her friends.”

“You get any names?” Sam sighed.

“Are you kidding me?” Dean held the diary up. “I have her bestest friend in the whole wide world.”

                                                              ***

“Hey!” I stumbled to stand as Sam and Dean came down the steps. “What’d we get?”

“Apparently Angela found her boy cheating the night she died.”

I scratched the back of my neck as Dean let out a low whistle. “That’s not ideal.”

Dean snorted. “Well, the vengeful spirit theory’s starting to make a little more sense. I mean, hell hath no fury…”

“So if Angela got her revenge on Matt, you think it’s over?” Sam asked as we climbed into the car.

“Well, there’s one way to be sure.”

Sam titled his head. “What?”

“Burn the bones?” I looked up at Dean, and he nodded.

“Burn the bones.”

Sam scoffed at both of us. “Are you two high?”

Dean and I glanced at each other. I scratched my nose while he cleared his throat. Sam smacked my arm.

“You are fifteen, you should have no clue what being high even is.”

I giggled, and Dean cracked a grin.

“Wait, what’s the issue with burning the bones?” I turned back to Sam.

“Angela died last week!”

“So?”

“Oh…” I grimaced as I realized.

“So, there’s not gonna be bones, Dean. There’s gonna be a ripe, rotting body in that coffin.”

Dean shrugged. “So? Since when are you afraid to get dirty? Huh?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Fine, but Olive stays in the car.”

“Wh-”

“Please.” I begged, sending Dean puppy eyes.

He sighed as he looked at me, then huffed. “Fine.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“Sissy.”

“Call me whatever the fuck you want, Dean, I don’t do corpses. Only bones.”

“We burned the witches down in New Orleans!”

“I threw up, remember!”

“Oh, yeah, you did.” Dean shuddered. “Puked all over my new boots.”

I shrugged. “Sorry.”

Sam stared at us both with a defeated look. He let out a long sigh and turned to stare out the window. I giggled and leaned into his side.

“Let’s just go get this over with.”

                                                              ***

“What’s going on?” I asked as Dean and Sam slammed the trunk shut and scrambled into the car. “Why didn’t you burn the body?”

“There is no body.” Dean scowled.

“What?”

Sam sighed and shook his head. “The coffin was empty.”

I tilted my head. “What the fuck?”

He nodded. “Yeah. There were some symbols in the wood.”

“What symbols?”

Dean pulled out his phone and showed me a picture. I hummed.

“Haven’t we seen those before?”

He nodded. “Yeah. And I know exactly where.”

“Well, where?”

                                                              ***

“Dean, oh my god.” I took a few steps back as Dean pounded on Dr. Mason’s office door.

“Dean, take it easy. Please.” Sam pulled on his shoulders.

The door opened, and Dr. Mason smiled at us. “You’re Angie’s friends, right?”

Sam was the epitome of a gentle giant. His smile was soft, his posture was relaxed, and his tone was warm. “Dr. Mason-”

“We need to talk.” Dean cut him off with a snarl.

“Well, then, come on in.”

Dean pushed past him, and Sam followed, an apologetic smile on his face.

“Thank you, sorry.” I whispered.

Dean didn’t even wait for the door to shut as he whipped out the paper with the symbols. “You teach Ancient Greek. Tell me…” He unfurled the paper. “What are these?”

“I don’t understand.” Dr. Mason squinted, then looked at Sam and I. “Does this have something to do with Angela?”

“It does. Please, just humor me.” Dean snapped.

“They’re part of an ancient Greek divination ritual.”

“Used for necromancy, right?”

Dr. Mason nodded. “That’s right.”

“See, before we came over here, we stopped by the library and did a little homework ourselves. Apparently they used rituals like this one for communicating with the dead. Even bringing corpses back to life. Full on zombie action.”

Dr. Mason nodded. “Yes. I mean, according to the legends. Now, what’s all this about?”

Sam and I glanced at Dr. Mason, then at each other with matching expressions. This guy didn’t seem like someone who would bring his dead kid back to life. I caught Dean’s eye and sent him a pleading look. He kept going.

“I think you know.”

“Dean.” Sam warned.

“Look, I get it. Okay? There are people that I would give anything to see again.” Dean softened, then got in Dr. Mason’s face. “But what gives you the right?”

“Dean!” Sam took a step forward.

“What are you talking about?” Dr. Mason was beyond confused.

“What’s dead should stay dead!” Dean shot.

“What?” Dr. Mason’s eyes were wide.

“Stop it!” I ran at Dean and pushed him, but he didn’t budge.

“What you brought back isn’t even your daughter anymore! These things are vicious, they’re violent, they’re so nasty they rot the ground around them! I mean, come on, haven’t you seen Pet Sematary?”

“Dean, stop!” I hit his chest.

He caught me off guard and pushed me, sending me stumbling into Sam. Sam forced me behind him and glared at Dean.

“You’re insane.” Dr. Mason shook his head.

“Where is she!”

“Get out of my office.” He picked up his phone, but Dean knocked it out of his hand.

“I know you’re hiding her somewhere! Where is she!”

“Dean! Stop!” I ducked out from under Sam and pushed Dean, hard this time.

He glared at me and I grabbed his wrist, making sure I dug my nails into his skin even though it hurt me. I pointed to the windowsill.

“Look. Plants. Beautiful, living plants.” I growled.

“We’re leaving.” Sam told Dr. Mason.

Dean jerked himself out of my grip and stormed out the door.

“I’m calling the police.” Dr. Mason scowled.

“Sir, we’re really sorry. We won’t bother you again.” I gave him the most apologetic look I could before Sam and I followed after Dean.

                                                              ***

“Dean, what the hell is the matter with you?” Sam called.

“Back off.” Dean growled.

“That man is innocent! He didn’t deserve that!”

“Okay, so she’s not here! Maybe he’s keeping her somewhere else.”

“Stop it!” Sam shouted. “That is enough, okay? Enough.”

“Sam, I know what I’m doing.”

“No, you don’t!” I shouted. “You don’t, at all, Dean! Look, just about everything in this world scares me, but you never have. Except for now. You’re scaring the shit out of me.”

Dean bent down and got in my face. “Don’t be so overdramatic, Olive.”

Sam pulled me away from Dean and scowled. “You’re lucky this turned out to be a real case. Because if it wasn’t you would’ve just found something else to kill.”

“Wh-”

“He’s right, Dean! You’re on edge, you’re erratic. Except for when you’re hunting, because then you are downright horrifying. You’re spinning out, dude. And you’d rather die than talk about it! And you won’t let Sam and I help you!”

“I can take care of myself, thanks. I don’t need my little siblings to do it for me.”

“Dean!” Sam was panting, exasperated. “You can’t take care of yourself. And you know what? You’re the only one who thinks you should have to! You don’t have to handle this on your own, Dean. Nobody even can.”

“Dean, we’re still a family, and family is supposed to take care of each other!”

“If you bring up Dad’s death one more time I swear-”

“Stop! Please!” Sam looked ready to smash something against a wall.

“Dean.” I spoke, lips trembling. “Dean, this is killing you. Please.” My voice broke. “We’ve all lost Dad. You two have lost your mother. Sam’s lost Jess. But if you keep living like this, we will lose you too.”

Dean sighed. “We better get out of here before the cops come.”

I let out a strangled cry, trying to disguise it as a groan as I turned away. I pinched the bridge of my nose and looked up, holding back tears.

“I hear you. Okay? Yeah. I’m being an ass, and I’m sorry. But right now we’ve got a freaking zombie running around. And we need to figure out how to kill it.”

Sam let out a small chuckle and I wiped the tears from my eyes, turning back to the boys.

“Right?” Dean’s face was still serious.

“Our lives are weird, man.” Sam chuckled again.

“You’re telling me?” Dean huffed. “Come on.”

                                                              ***

“We can’t just waste her with a head shot?” Dean continued to pace around the room.

Sam chuckled and looked up from Dad’s journal. “Dude, you’ve been watching way too many Romero flicks.”

“You’re telling me there’s no lore on how to smoke em!” Dean put his hands up. “What else am I supposed to suggest?”

I giggled and Sam shook his head as Dean took a seat across from me. “No, Dean, I’m telling you that there’s too much. I mean, there’s a hundred different legends on the walking dead, and they all have different ways to kill them.” Sam moved from the bed to the table, pushing my feet onto the ground. “Some say, setting them on fire, uh, decapitation, cut up the bodies…” He sighed.

“Oh! I found one you might like!” I grinned as I flipped the laptop toward them.

“Feeding their hearts to wild dogs?” Sam read off the screen.

“I say we break into the zoo and find some hyenas and go for it!”

Dean’s head tilted. “Are wild dogs and hyenas the same thing?”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “I think so.”

Sam shook his head. “No they’re not.”

I pulled the laptop back my way and googled it. “Wait, no, they actually are two separate things. Hyenas are more closely related to cats? And… mongooses?”

“What the fuck is a mongoose?” Dean leaned forward.

I pulled up a picture of a mongoose and snorted. “This is an overgrown ferret. You’re telling me that that is related to a hyena?” I pushed the laptop back their way.

Sam rubbed his eyes. “I mean, the point is, who knows what’s real and what’s a myth?”

“Well, is there anything they all have in common?” I shut the laptop with a sigh.

“No.” Sam sighed. “But a few said silver might work.”

I looked at Dean, who shrugged.

“Silver’s a start.”

I leaned back in my chair. “Well, yeah. But how are we gonna find Angela? It’s not like she’s in her grave.”

Dean sighed. “We’ve gotta figure out the person who brought her back.”

“Alright. Any ideas?”

“I think that if it’s not her dad, it might be that guy Neil.”

I glanced between the boys. “Who?”

“A friend of Angela’s.”

“Okay… how’d you come up with that?”

Dean crossed the room and grabbed the pink diary, tapping his fingers on it with a grin. “You’ve got your journal, I’ve got mine.” He flipped it open and cleared his throat. “Neil’s a real shoulder to cry on, he so understands what I’m going through with Matt.”

I giggled and he nodded, throwing the diary onto the table and sitting back down. “There’s more in there where that came from. It’s got unrequited duckie love written all over it.”

I giggled again, and Sam cracked a smile.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean he brought her back from the dead.”

“Hmm.” Dean pouted. “Did I mention he’s Dr. Mason’s TA? Has access to all the same books.”

Sam rested his chin in his hands and made a face.

                                                              ***

“Hello? Neil? It’s your grief counselors. We’ve come to hug.” Dean called out into the apartment.

There was no answer. Dean pulled out a gun and nodded at me. I pulled my own, and Sam made a face.

“They’re silver bullets.” I grinned.

Sam shook his head, but there was a hint of a smile on his face.

“Enough to make her rattle like a change purse.” Dean matched the grin on my face.

Dean led the way. Sam was in the middle, and I brought up the rear with my gun ready. Sam nudged us both and pointed. I looked over to see a windowsill fill of wilted plants. I groaned, feeling sick. Dean nodded and led us to a door. He nodded to it.

“Unless it’s where he keeps his porn…”

Sam sighed and opened the door. Dean led the way down, Sam and I followed. The room was empty. 

“Sure looks like a zombie pen to me.” Dean huffed.

“Yeah, an empty one.” Sam sighed. “Think Angela’s going after somebody?”

Dean pulled a loose grate off the wall. It landed on the floor with a thud and I sighed. It was a tunnel, and it definitely led somewhere outside.

“Nah. I think she went to rent Beaches.” Dean mocked.

I whacked the back of his head and Sam rolled his eyes.

“Okay, jackass. She might kill someone. Which means we’ve gotta find her.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah, alright. She uh, she clipped Matt because he was cheating on her, right?”

“Well, yeah, that’s the working theory.”

“Okay, well, it takes two to have hardcore sex.”

Sam frowned and I grimaced.

“I don’t know, it just seemed that uh… Angela’s roommate was broken up over Matt’s death. I mean, like…” Dean raised his eyebrows. “Really broken up.”

                                                              ***

Someone screamed, and Dean and I both fired, nailing Angela in the chest and shoulder. She screamed but went out the window. Dean and I went after as Sam went to the roommate. We reached the window, but she was already out of sight. I stuck my head out the window and looked around. She was gone.

“Damn.”

“Alright, so the dead chick can run.”

I sighed. “What do we do now?”

Dean thought about it for a second. “I say we go have a little chat with Neil.”

                                                              ***

“Okay, so the silver bullets did something, right?”

“Yeah, but obviously not enough. What else you got?”

“Um, okay… besides silver, we have…” Sam skimmed through Dad’s journal. “Nailing the undead back into their grave beds. It’s mentioned a few times.”

“Probably where the whole vampire staking lore came from.” I mused.

“Their grave beds? Seriously?” Dean glanced from the road to Sam.

“Yeah.”

“How the fuck are we gonna get Angela back to the cemetery?”

                                                              ***

“Just stay behind me, okay?” Sam squeezed my shoulder.

I nodded. “Okay.”

Dean pushed the office door open, and a guy was sitting at his desk in the dark. Dean shot us a look over his shoulder. I kept close to Sam as we shuffled into the room.

“What are you guys doing here?”

“You know, I’ve heard of people doing some pretty desperate things to get laid, but you.” Dean snorted. “You take the cake.”

“Okay. Who are you guys?”

“You might wanna ask Angela that question.”

“What?”

“We know what you did, Neil. The ritual and everything.”

Neil scoffed. “You’re crazy.”

“Your girlfriend’s past her expiration date and we’re crazy?”

“When someone’s gone, they should stay gone.” Dean reiterated.

No.

I swallowed, caught off guard. It was happening again. I cleared my throat.

“Angela killed Matt. She tried to kill her roommate too.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hey!” Dean stormed over to the desk and hauled Neil up by the collar.

Sam was shocked, but I didn’t even blink. This was how it was going to be until he let us help him.

“No more crap, Neil. His blood is on your hands. Now. Me and my siblings can make this right, but you’ve gotta tell us where she is. Tell us!”

I noticed the window behind his desk. All the plants were dead.

“My house! She’s at my house.”

Dean dropped him, and I cleared my throat.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” He nodded.

I glanced past him to see a closet cracked open. I cleared my throat again, and the boys looked at me, confused.

“Listen. It doesn’t really matter where she is. There’s only one way to stop her. We’ve gotta do another ritual over her grave to reverse the mess you made. Gonna need some black root, some scar weed, some sage and some candles. It’s complicated, but it’ll get the job done.”

I noticed Dean holding back a smirk, and Sam’s eyebrows furrowed.

“She’ll be dead again in a few hours. I really think you should come with us.”

Neil said nothing.

“I’m serious, Neil. Leave with us. Right now.”

“No. No, I can’t.”

Dean leaned back in and whispered something to him. Neil’s face drained of color and Dean turned back to us. “Let’s go.”

                                                              ***

“Do you really think this’ll work?”

I shrugged as I lit another candle. “Dude, fuck if I know. It’s the best I could come up with.”

There was a crackling sound from nearby, and our heads snapped up like three deer. Dean nodded to Sam, who slowly stood and held his hand out. I pulled my gun from the small of my back and handed it to him. As Sam stalked away, I opened my mouth, letting my teeth do as they pleased. Fangs slid out, cramming my regular teeth to the sides. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before focusing on the noises. There was another sound, closer to where Sam had gone.

I heard the shifting of his clothes and then a small gasp.

“Wait! It’s not what you think. I didn’t ask to be brought back! But it’s still me. I’m still a person. Please.” Angela pleaded.

There was a gunshot, and I flinched, eyes snapping open. There was a scream and the subsequent crunching of bones. Sam began to run back to us, and there was another thud.

Sam.

I snatched Dean’s gun from the back of his jeans and made a run for it. Sam was down in the clearing, and Angela was trying to twist his head back. I shot her, and she scrambled away, right toward Dean. I shot her a few more times, and she stumbled into her open grave. Dean acted fast, grabbing a long metal stake and ran for it, sliding into the grave.

“Please, don’t!” She screamed.

I flinched as I heard the sound of the blade digging into her skin. There was a gasp, and then nothing.

“What’s dead should stay dead.” Dean hissed.

                                                              ***

“Man, rest in peace.” I huffed as we finished patting down the dirt over her grave.

“Yeah, for good this time.” Dean huffed.

Sam grunted as he lifted his shovel over his shoulder and we made our way to the car.

“You know, that whole fake ritual thing, luring Angela into the cemetery? Pretty sharp of you two.”

Dean and I looked at each other and grinned. “Thanks.”

“But why did I have to be the bait?”

“Figured you were more her type.” Dean teased. “You know, she had a pretty crappy taste in guys.”

“I think she broke my hand.” Sam huffed.

“Aw, Sams.” I pouted. “Gimme the shovel.”

“Nah, it’ll hurt more to move it.”

Dean laughed. “You’re just too fragile. We’ll get it looked at later.” He paused and glanced back at Mary’s grave.

“You wanna stay for a while?” Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. “Nope.”

He popped the trunk and let us drop our things in. I climbed into the front bench with a grunt. Sam and Dean followed.

                                                              ***

Dean pulls the car over onto the opposite shoulder with a scowl. Olive sits up straight, and Sam looks at the eldest Winchester, confused. Dean gets out of the car and sits on the hood, wordless. Sam and Olive share a look, then follow their brother out of the car. Sam sits down on the hood, leaving a space between himself and Dean.

“Dean, what is it?” He asks.

“I’m sorry.”

His voice is deep and his tone is serious, but Olive sees right through it. He’s about to burst into tears. She stands between her brothers, staying close to Dean.

“For what?”

“The way I’ve been acting.” He looks down and swallows. “And for Dad. I mean… he was you guys’ Dad too. And it’s my fault that he’s gone.”

Sam glances at Olive, expecting to share a look. Olive sinks into Dean’s side and swallows, hard. She doesn’t look at Sam. She can’t, or she’ll break.

“Dean, what are you talking about?”

“I know you’ve been thinking it. So have I.” Dean sniffs. “Doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. Back at the hospital, I made a full recovery. It was a miracle. And five minutes later, Dad’s dead and the Colt is gone.”

“Dean.”

“You can’t tell me there’s not a connection there.” Dean shakes his head. “I don’t know how the demon was involved. I don’t know how the whole thing went down exactly. But Dad’s dead because of me.”

Olive begins to cry, looking down at her feet. Her chest aches, a combination of the harsh tug at her heartstrings and the healing wound from their previous case.

“That much I do know.”

Sam grabs one of Olive’s hands and shakes his head at his older brother. “We don’t know that. Not for sure, Dean.”

“Kids…” Dean’s voice is weak. “You two, and Dad… you’re the most important people in my life. And now… I never should’ve come back, guys. It wasn’t natural. And now look what’s come of it.”

Olive begins to cry harder, and Sam’s eyes fill with tears.

“I was dead. And I should have stayed dead.”

Tears begin to fall down Dean’s cheeks. Sam is distraught, he doesn’t know what to do, he doesn’t know how to help. Olive is shaking. She knew this would be her burden to carry, but she never realized it would become Dean’s too.

“You guys wanted to know how I was feeling. Well, that’s it.”

Sam nods, tears beginning to stream down his cheeks.

“So tell me. What could you two possibly say to make that alright?” Dean looks their way.

Sam falters, looks down. Dean looks back away, and Olive’s heart begins to ache. She looks up at her big brother, and barrels straight into him. She throws her arms around his neck and he steadies himself, expecting her to put all her weight on him. She doesn’t. She holds him, and gently pulls him forward. He lets himself be held, then slowly drops his head into her neck. He begins to shake, and she squeezes him tighter.

She can’t say anything to make it right. She knows that.

All she can do is hold him and hope he knows how much they need him.

Because if he can realize that, then it’s enough.

Previous Ep: Bloodlust (2.03)

Next Ep: Simon Said (2.05)

[initcne-arch]

She’s too loud.

She’s too needy.

She screams and cries all the time.

Isn’t there a medication you can put her on to make her behave??

Why does she act like this??

I just don’t understand why she’s such a problem child. She has everything she could possibly want and need.

There’s a bruise on her forehead from where she hit her head when she threw herself on the floor and a bruise around her wrist from where her mother grabbed her and she tried to pull away. She barrels around the pediatrician’s office like a little wrecking ball. Her mother is annoyed. Her father is worried. Darlene’s parents ignore her again to speak to the pediatrician, and when they don’t respond to her screams, she throws a doll at her father. The doctor’s expression is masked with concern. She asks the Aldersons if they’re responding before Darlene starts screaming. This warrants a, “There’s absolutely no excuse for her behavior. She’s impossible to deal with. Can you help us or not??” from her mother.

The pediatrician cannot help Darlene because the change needs to start with the Alderson parents. They don’t receive this well.

When they leave the office, her father hoists her up under one arm and says, “Should we stop for ice cream, kiddo??” But her mother shoots him a fevered look and exclaims, “After she behaved like that in the office?? Absolutely not. This is why she acts this way. You coddle her too much. We’re picking Elliot up and we’re going straight home.”

She sits sullen and silent in the backseat on the ride home, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. Her parents don’t acknowledge her silence. Her father asks Elliot how school was when he gets in the car. “Good,” Elliot says before falling back into his own silence. Their parents try to get more out of him--what was good?? What was the best part of the day?? What was the worst part of the day?? Darlene leans over and pinches Elliot’s arm. He tells her to stop it, but then he opens his backpack and pulls out a piece of paper with a crude drawing on it.

“We can hang that up when we get home,” he says. Darlene doesn’t remember what the drawing was but she remembers it made her happy.

-

She becomes more withdrawn when her father dies. Her mother doesn’t seem to notice, or perhaps she’s relieved that Darlene is finally leaving her be. She yells at Darlene for spilling orange juice on the floor. It wouldn’t have happened if her mother would have helped her when she asked, and Darlene did ask, she did tell her mom that she was hungry and thirsty and her mother responded by lighting up another cigarette and turning her head the other way. She grabs Darlene roughly by the wrist and drags her from the kitchen. Darlene kicks and screams and there are tears in her eyes when she says she’s still hungry. Her mother says, “You shouldn’t have made that mess in the kitchen then.” Darlene sits in her room and kicks the wall and hugs a pillow to her stomach. Her eyes burn from crying.

-

“I have ballet practice today.”

“Can’t you get a ride from the Mosses??”

“Angela’s in the older group now. She goes at four o’ clock instead of five.”

“You should have gone with her at 3 then. I’m not giving you a ride.”

She goes to Elliot’s room. He’s tinkering around with some old game system, tools strewn out in front of him.

“Walk with me to ballet.” He looks up, annoyance clear on his face. And why shouldn’t he be annoyed?? He’s not Darlene’s parent. 

“Now??”

“Mom says you have to.” He sighs, and he rolls his eyes, but he stands up and walks with Darlene out of his room, out the front door, down the street. He tells her to hold his hand while they’re crossing the street. She’s always nervous that he won’t show up to pick her up, but he’s always there waiting for her. He always has a few dollars pocketed so they can stop at the diner and buy milkshakes and French fries. Darlene looks forward to this more than she looks forward to ballet sometimes. 

Eventually, Elliot stops telling Darlene to hold his hand. Eventually, Elliot stops walking Darlene to her ballet recitals.

-

Elliot’s not here right now. She holds his hand until he comes back.

Elliot’s not here right now. She holds his hand until he comes back.

Elliot’s not here right now. She holds his hand until he comes back.

-

Their mother leaves for her first job well before Darlene and Elliot need to be up for school. Elliot doesn’t always get up, though. Darlene pours him a bowl of cereal. When they’re older, she pours him cups of coffee as well. She creeps into his room and leaves them on his desk. When it’s almost time to go to school, she goes into his room and tells him it’s time for them to leave. Sometimes he gets up. Sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes Darlene stays home with him. Sometimes she doesn’t. When they’re younger, on some of the days where he gets up, they steal money from one of their mother’s various hiding places and play hooky to go watch movies or play games at the arcade all day long. They usually invite Angela along. She tags along some days, other days she doesn’t.

-

She chases the school bus when her brother and their best friend leave for school. She chases the train when her brother and their best friend leave for college. 

-

She rides the train out of Washington Township when she is eighteen years old and she won’t be back until she receives a frantic phone call from her best friend childhood friend this girl she used to know, Angela, saying your brother disappeared again and we need to check his spots in Washington Township. 

-

Darlene is not eighteen years old. She is eight years old and it is the first time she runs away from home. Her mother drives her to a lake and hands her a bag with the squirming kitten Darlene’s been hiding in their yard for the last few weeks.

“It’s just a fucking cat. It’s not capable of complex thought and it isn’t capable of loving you. You shouldn’t have kept the thing in our yard. They’re full of fleas and diseases.” 

She’s choking on her sobs and shaking her head back and forth. 

“I don’t want to. I don’t want to.” Her hands tremble and through tear blurred eyes, she can see her little cat peering out at her from inside the plastic bag. Moonpie’s eyes are wide, light green, innocent. This little kitten has shown Darlene more love and attention in the last few weeks than anyone has shown Darlene in her eight years in life. When Darlene goes outside, Moonpie runs to her, stands in her lap, headbutts Darlene’s chin. Adults are supposed to know more than kids. She thinks her mother is wrong about Moonpie. She thinks her mother is wrong about a lot of things.

Darlene is eight years old, and she is still quite small, but she shoves her mother with all the force in her tiny body and starts running in the opposite direction. She doesn’t look back to see if her mother fell over. She only hears her mother screaming her name and obscenities. She hears the car door open and a second set of footsteps and her brother’s voice joining her mother’s. Darlene clutches the kitten to her chest. The cold air stings her wet eyes.

When the police leave, Magda digs her nails into Darlene’s arm and drags her up to her room. Darlene screams and kicks her legs, screams, “I hate you!! I hate you!! I hate you!! I wish you were dead!!” Her mother slaps her hard and Darlene feels the familiar sting of open cuts on her face. Her mother hisses, “You stay in your goddamn room until I say you can come out,” and slams the door. When Darlene turns the knob, she’s met with resistance. Magda must have installed a lock on the outside of the door at some point over the last three days. Darlene kicks at the door until she’s too tired to kick anymore, and then she curls up by the door and sniffles until she falls asleep.

She wakes up to Elliot gently shaking her shoulder.

Magda locks Darlene in her room a few weeks later, when Darlene starts screaming again. She couldn’t tell you why she’s screaming, only that she’s sad and angry and by God, why won’t someone listen to her?? She remembers Magda screaming back, “I can’t deal with you anymore!!” Darlene picks her lock open with a bobby pin she finds tucked in her desk. Magda is sitting in her recliner smoking a cigarette and doesn’t pay any mind to Darlene when she comes stomping down the stairs and storms into the kitchen.

-

Magda doesn’t pay much mind to Darlene when she’s a teenager, visibly high or drunk and stumbling home in the middle of the night. Darlene will walk out the front door well after whatever established curfew Magda has for her with Magda sitting in that recliner, smoking a cigarette, and watching one of her shows, and Magda won’t say a word.

Darlene leaves a glass on the counter instead of putting it in the dishwasher. She’s asleep in her bed when Magda wakes her by throwing the glass against Darlene’s wall and starts yelling. You lazy, ungrateful piece of shit. You come and go as you please and leave messes everywhere you go. You never help out around the house. You expect me to do everything around here. Darlene’s still hungover from the night before so she squints at Magda through only partially opened eyes, waiting for Magda to finish her rampage and slam her bedroom door shut. She picks up the larger shards of glass that fell on her bed and rolls over. She finds little shards of glass in her sheets throughout the day.

-

Darlene is a teenager dancing on the table of a classmate’s dining room table. Darlene is a young adult dancing on the tabletop at a club. Her vision is blurry and her head is foggy. She smiles, she laughs, she takes another hit off the joint that’s passed to her. She leans against the bathroom door with her legs tucked tightly to her chest as she screams into her knees.

-

She rides the subways all day because there’s nowhere else for her to go. She sits with her headphones over her ears and her head lolled to one side. She closes her eyes and abruptly snaps awake a few minutes later. She dozes off again. Wakes up. Dozes off. Wakes up. Dozes off.

-

Her partner grabs Darlene by the wrist and tries to spin her around for the last time. Darlene balls her hands up into fists and starts pounding on their chest. She screams at them and tells them she doesn’t want to hear from them ever again. She hopes the next time she sees them they’re dead in a fucking ditch. They’d be doing the world a fucking favor. She bursts out of the apartment door and starts running.

-

She creeps out of Elliot her brother a stranger’s apartment in the middle of the night. He pays her little mind when they’re both in the same space. She feels panic in her chest when they’re in the same room now. She struggles to find words to say to him when they’re in the same space. It’s easier to leave, it will be better for both of them if she leaves. Living with a stranger is hard.

[resmarted]

the other night i dreamt i was saving britney from her dad, who in real life has molested her since she was an infant. that is how children get into hollywood: they are taught sex acts by their parents so that they can go into rooms with big execs and know what to do to show they are properly trained child prostitutes and from there they are incrementally rewarded with fame and fortune. only the most traumatized kids make it into the mickey mouse club and disney which is a front for child trafficking. literally all of those kids have to suck dick and take it in the ass to get a foot in the door. britney was born and raised in tangipahoa parish which is the most satanic part of louisiana and where the real life daycare where rituals were performed on children happened that hbo’s first season of true detective was based on. these topics are too hard for people to stomach so it is easier to just believe it’s not real and turn a blind eye, to continue to give disney your money and put your children in front of the tv with their media that meticulously sexualizes them and normalizes pedophilia to them in ways that are subtle enough to make parents find it acceptable for kids to watch. this is the global babysitter of our children: a pedophile factory that teaches us to behave in ways that makes us ripe for the picking. this is what the industry has been since the beginning of television media began. britney’s dad is not only her handler but her lifelong rapist and i wouldn’t be surprised if she attended that very same daycare. these children are traumatized into submission at an early age so that their brains are compartmentalized and able to split off personalities which is then used to teach the rest of us how to act through mainstream media. it is generational trauma that we are all secondhand victims to. think about people who are like, super into disney. they’re all weirdly attached and aggressively defensive of their favorite childhood media without ever questioning why and never dare speak ill of it or consider alternative explanations as to why they love it. they go to disney as adults. they raise their own kids with the movies they grew up on. they participate in disney culture like members of a cult. if you suggest that it’s anything other than magical or perfect they shut down and don’t want to hear it. there is so much evidence that concludes disney is not only an evil corporation but directly linked to pedophilia, dating as far back as bobby driscoll who died penniless from a drug overdose and was known to be in abusive love triangles with james dean and marlon brando who put cigarettes out on them during sex and other horrendous acts of violence that they interpreted as love, for which they obsessively begged. there is literally nothing about disney that is not rooted in pedophilia and the buying and selling of children for sex. these kids have to be primed by their fathers to know how to handle adult men when they are alone in the room with them. it is the most profitable child exploitation center in the world, and britney is their top contender. the reason they all start breaking down around 27 is because that is when the brain becomes fully developed and their once-compartmentalized memories start to come undone and get restored in their cognitive awareness, which causes them to lose their shit and either turn to drugs to escape or rebellious acts such as shaving their heads. it is rumored that britney was forced to watch so many snuff films including torture and murder back to back on a projection screen that she lost it and told the hair dresser “i’m tired of everyone touching me” before taking the buzzer to her head. then once she was checked into promises malibu this allegedly happened:

britney was made out to look like she was merely seeking attention because her career wasn’t where it was in the years prior. we were told to laugh at her about it and we did. if we look beyond the gaslight we can see that this is the behavior of a victim of deep trauma, namely sexual, who has since been electroshocked into submission several times including very recently after she was forcibly checked in for three months at the hands of her father.

you can see the electrode imprints on her forehead. this is what a person who has just received ect treatments looks like when they come out, and as someone who has voluntarily gone in to receive these same treatments for depression i can tell you it is exactly how i looked coming out and the marks are left on your forehead the same exact way. the only difference is that she had no choice and the voltage they used on her was much higher.

what’s fucked up is there is so much more than this. there is stuff about her that you wouldn’t believe, and couldn’t even begin to fathom as it involves technology that we the mass public can’t even conceive of because it is kept from us and has been for the last century. there is so much more to what links her and michael jackson, which is why she was suddenly friends with paris - another child abuse victim of incest who grew up around mj, who was also an abuse victim of the most severe circumstances himself. this is the first time we have been able to witness in real time the effects of what this kind of trauma does to a person on a grand scale aside from what we saw happen to michael, and this is the first time we are actually concerned for a victim of this nature. which is a step in the right direction, a very small moment of progress, but it’s not enough. this entire system of hollywood pedophilia hiding in plain sight and elite sex trafficking of all ages for the benefit of a few rich men must be abolished entirely. we deserve a better world than one where we all get the idea that being used and abused and then simply disposed of in exchange for fame is the ultimate goal.

[elusive---ivory]

The Woman In Velvet pt 8

Aaaa, this took way too long, but here we are

PAIRING: Arthur Fleck x Oc

WARNING: Mentions of abuse, and self harm

Masterlist (masterlist isn't working rn, will try to update it later)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Taglist:

@princessgeekface @memory-mortis @gloomybih @mijachula (if you'd like to be on my Taglist message me or send me an ask 💗)

Sandy sat next to Arthur in the hospital room. His mother laid next to the two of them. Gently comforting Arthur, Sandy rubbed his back. His eyes stayed focused on his mother.

"She'll be fine, sweetheart. I'm gonna go get a coffee. Do you want one?" Sandy got up, kissing Arthur's forehead.

"Yeah," He whispered, gently.

Sandy walked down to the hospital's cafeteria, grabbing two black coffees.

"So in a world where everyone thinks they can do my job. Get a load of this guy, who thinks that if you just keep laughing, people will think you're funny." Murray Franklin spoke through the television screen. Sandy looked over at Arthur, who was holding onto his mother's hand.

Sandy never liked Murray Franklin, it always reminded her of her uncle's cigars. It made her shiver. She knew how much Murray meant to Arthur, even though she didn't care about the guy all that much, she loved seeing Arthur happy.

"You know, haha, I hated school, ha, when I was a kid. I, ha ha, h-hated school. My mother would say 'You should enjoy it, one day you'll have to work for a living.' No, I won't, ma. I'm gonna be a comedian."

Arthur's eyes were glued on the television screen. He turned over to Sandy, and grabbed her hand, pointing at the TV to prove it was him. She smiled, holding his hand.

"Heh, you should've listened to your mother." Murray said, as the audience roared with laughter. "Play another clip, Bobby. I love this guy."

Another clip of Arthur's stand up began to play.

"When I told people I was gonna be a comedian, everyone laughed at me. Well, no one's laughing now."

"You can say that again, pal." Murray commented.

Arthur's joy quickly became anger. He let out of Sandy's hand.

"Now, this is my personal favorite. Some girl runs up on stage, and kisses the guy. Makes me think she's an actress getting paid to do it."

It was Sandy running up onstage, kissing Arthur. There was a bunch of ooos and ahhs from the audience.

Sandy glared at the TV. "What an asshole." She mumbled, under her breath. Sandy looked over at Arthur.

Arthur didn't look at her. He had a strong grimace on his face.

"Are you real?" He asked. He turned around to Sandy. "Or are you just a 'paid actress'?" Arthur spat out the word 'actress.' Arthur's emerald eyes bored into Sandy head.

Sandy smiled gently at Arthur. "Darling, I'm as real as you are now. I'm a real life, breathing human being. I love you, Arthur." Sandy held Arthur's hand close to her chest.

Arthur felt frozen in place as he felt Sandy's heartbeat steady in his palm. He leaned in the crook of her neck, keeping his hand on her chest.

"Let's go, Artie." Sandy smiled, kissing his head.

"Ok." He whispered, softly.

Sandy led Arthur to his apartment. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you in your apartment? I'd be more than happy to." She asked, politely.

"I'll be ok." Arthur jiggled his keys opening his front door. Sandy turned away, walking towards the elevator.

"Hey, Sandy." Arthur called.

Sandy turned around. "Yeah." She called back.

"Could you stay?" Arthur asked, meekly.

She smiled. "Of, course."

Sandy sat comfortably on the couch with Arthur on her lap.

"Fuck Thomas Wayne and Fuck the system." An angry protester shouted on the television. It seemed like Thomas Wayne was all over the news, as well as the riots and the protesters.

Sandy wasn't paying attention. Her hands subconsciously ran through Arthur's hair.

"So, Wayne manor didn't go well?" She asked, slowly falling asleep.

"No, it didn't. Maybe tomorrow." Arthur mumbled against her thighs, watching closely to the television screen.

"Maybe." Sandy repeated. "Tomorrow's that rally. That sure sounds like fun. I never did like Thomas Wayne."

Arthur lifted his head up from her lap. "Why not?"

Sandy shrugged, not answering his question.

She looked up at the TV screen. "My uncle died today." Sandy said, aloud. Her face held no emotion.

Arthur looked up at her. His eyes filled up with remorse. "Oh. That must be hard." Arthur got up to her eye level.

Sandy started laughing hysterically. "Ha, you know what's funny, Art. He can't hurt me anymore. Just like Dennis. Those poor, poor, fucking bastards."

Arthur got off of Sandy's lap. He looked at her in shock. Her laughter was uncharacteristic.

"Why should we feel sorry? Because I'll tell you one thing, Art. I haven't felt a single bit of remorse since those fuckers croaked." Sandy's laughter subsided.

It clicked in Arthur. "Wow." Arthur's laughter was triggered from Sandy's.

"Laugh it up, baby. Life is a comedy. That's why people laugh, because laughter takes your breath away. Much like a kiss." Sandy picked up a cigarette that was lying on the floor.

Arthur continued his laughter. "Y-you're right, Sandy. Ha, ha, ha."

She smirked holding the cigarette in her mouth.

His laughter subsided. He looked up at Sandy with pain in his eyes. "You're just like me. I've never met someone like you. Someone that understands." Arthur looked down at Sandy's arm. He saw the burn in the center of her arm. "What happened there?" He pointed to it.

She lit the cigarette in her mouth and looked at him shrugging.

Arthur held Sandy's arm. "Please don't." He kissed Sandy's burn. "Please, dear."

Arthur's pitiful expression was too much for Sandy. She held him close and broke down crying. "I love you, Arthur."

He smiled returning the favor. "I love you too." He kissed her cheek gently.

Sandy laid on Arthur's chest, feeling his heartbeat. His heart made a soft beat lulling her too sleep.

The sun shined through the window, beaming on Sandy's forehead. Her nose twitched as she opened her eyes to her surroundings. She was laying in bed next to a sleeping Arthur. Sandy smiled at his sleeping figure, leaning over giving him a kiss on his forehead. Arthur's sleepy ocean green eyes slowly opened.

"Good morning." Sandy smiled, kissing his cheek.

"Hmmm." Arthur mumbled, pulling Sandy closer.

"Hey, are you heading to the rally tonight?" She fluffed his hair a little bit, trying to get his attention.

Arthur mumbled something that sounded like a yes.

Sandy smiled. She got off the bed. Arthur made a faint whine.

"What? I have to get my stuff from my apartment." She giggled. "I'm off from work, but I still gotta check my messages. I'll be back."

Arthur lifted his head, tilting it slightly at Sandy. "You promise?"

Sandy kissed his head. "I promise."

She walked out of the bedroom, giving Arthur a small glance.

Sandy walked up to her apartment, using the stairs. The elevator was getting fixed, so she couldn't use that. Once she entered her apartment, Sandy went to her kitchen. The rats had gotten into her fridge and chewed up her paper towels and all her remaining food. She sighed, rubbing her temples. Sandy tapped on the answering machine.

"You have (1) new message." The same monotonous voice said.

"Voicemail 1:

Sandy? Hi! It's your cousin, Deliah. I've sure you've heard about our dad. Destiny has been been living out in the country for a while, but she'll be home in time for the wake. Since, Daddy's funeral isn't until tomorrow, I wanted ask if we could hang. It hasn't been the same since you've moved to the bad part of Gotham. Not to mention with the riots going on, it'd be nice to catch up."

The message ended.

Sandy rolled her eyes. She picked up the phone and dialed some numbers.

"Sandy! Hi Sugar! How are you?" Deliah's Jersey accent called through the phone.

"I've been fine, Dee. How about you?" Sandy said, tired. She had played through the motions in her head.

Dee wasn't a sort of trustworthy person. She had a long history of drug abuse, and was a trust fund baby at it's finest.

"Oh, I've been better. Ya know, I'm heading to this bar, tonight, down by Wayne Hall. You should come." Dee said, excitedly through the phone.

"I don't know, Dee." Sandy sighed.

"Come on, Sandy. I know tensions are high right now, but you should really loosen up. It'll be great for ya. Who knows maybe we can find you a lucky guy?" Dee teased on the phone.

Sandy scoffed. "I think I'm all set."

"Sandy, please. I'm begging. It'll be fun. I promise." Dee whined.

"Ugh. Fine, okay. If you'll excuse me, I have to get going." Sandy groaned, rubbing her temples.

"Great! See ya at 6." Dee hung up the phone.

Sandy gently put the phone back on the kitchen counter. She had cleaned up her kitchen, and decided to head back downstairs again.

Arthur had already gotten up. He cleaned up around his apartment. He heard a familiar knock at the door. Arthur walked over and opened the door.

He smiled widely. "Hey, I was beginning to worry about you." Arthur said, half jokingly.

"Yeah, one of my cousins, Dee, called. She wants me to come with her to some bar." Sandy sighed, frustrated while sitting on the couch.

Arthur's eyebrows furrowed into a frown. "You're not going, are you?"

"I didn't say no." Sandy shrugged.

Arthur looked down, turning his back to Sandy. "Ok." He said, coolly.

She put her hand on his shoulder. "Hey, don't worry, dear. It's near Wayne Hall. It will be lame." Her reassurance wasn't enough.

"Uh-huh." He answered back, sharply.

"Arthur, babe, please don't act like this. I know it's unexpected, but Dee kept pestering me, besides the funeral's tomorrow and I-"

Arthur cut Sandy off with a glare. He walked up to her and hugged her tightly.

"You are mine." He growled through his teeth.

Sandy's eyes widened. "Arthur I-"

Arthur cupped her face, and cut her off again with a kiss. Sandy kissed back, putting her hands around his neck. She back up into a wall. Arthur pulled away.

Sandy smirked. "Do you really think that would convince me not to go?"

Arthur looked down, backing away from Sandy. "Yeah." He smirked back. "Did it work?"

"Almost." Sandy giggled, kissing his forehead.

Arthur frowned, again.

Sandy gently pet Arthur's head. "Hey, I'll be back before the rally. I love you, Art." She kissed his forehead.

Arthur wanted to trust her. He felt happiness around her. He didn't want that happiness to go away.

"I love you too, Sandy. You're my everything." Arthur's eyes dilated.