#Remembering how Cas lost his arm and just staring at this art

[littlebear1537]

ART TRADE - Cas, Val, Thea, & Sam

ART TRADE FOR @decoloraa !!!!

BRIGGS GANG BRIGGS GANG BRIGGS GANG

Thea finds Sam in their bear form (not knowing it's them) but wants to adopt them - And obviously the gay dads of Briggs are there!!!

THIS WAS A LOT OF FUN TO DRAW!!!

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

dedicated to, and inspired by @nerdy-duckling. post- 15x20-ish.

There's traits you have that your kids inherit, and traits you have that they don't.

Cooking, of course, falls under the second category — and further under a rarer subcategory that, if it were upto Sam, would be called 'Traits you have that your younger brother who's lived with you all his life couldn't pick up, but the daughter of your semi-angel sort-of lover's vessel, somehow, incomprehensibly, did'.

It's not envy, Sam sighs, leaning against the porch of Claire and Kaia's home as his eyes follow the now-thirty year old Claire hustling around the lawn.

She's checking on grills, inventorying sauces and flipping accidentally overlooked burgers, all with the same, familiar ease Sam's associated with Dean all his life.

Something that Amelia and Sarah — Claire and Kaia's daughters — now associate with Claire.

Moments like this, Sam misses his brother like there's a hole in his chest.

The entire family's here — and that's what they've become, a family — with Garth and his kids, Claire and Kaia and theirs, Jody, Donna, Alex and her fiancé, Patience visiting home for a weekend, Charlie and Stevie, Bobby, Eileen, and Sam.

It's burgers night, Claire's in-charge, and everyone's on the lawn.

Ten years have passed.

They don't think about the ones they've lost everyday anymore, and that's a good thing.

Except for when it hits again, triggered by the strangest and smallest of things, and nothing helps than to wait painstakingly for time to pass, again, and slowly erode the rerisen mountains of grief, capped in guilt, loss, and utter misery — until the next time.

It's not envy, Sam smiles, eyes falling off of blonde hair and sprightly steps. Falling to the ground, clouded.

It's love, pride, and reminiscence — and longing, nostalgia and loss.

"Sam," It's Eileen.

She puts her hand on his shoulder, gentle so he doesn't flinch, but firm enough to return him to the present.

God, it hurts.

"I," Sam swallows. "I'm okay."

"You are," she promises, a different kind of familiar, and Sam tries to smile at her — but then she's closer, frowning, worried, and Sam hadn't even realized he'd been crying until she's holding his face in her hands, thumbs brushing away tears.

He wants to, then, but he can't stop.

"Eileen, I —" Sam starts, exhaling shakily. His heart hammers in his chest — not fast enough to be a panic attack, or the final few minutes of a hunt, but enough that he screws his eyes shut, almost in pain, and Eileen moves closer.

"Tell me, Sam?" She pleads.

Sam doesn't even know what he was trying to say.

It's not like he can just say, hey, remember back when they were all here, and we made burgers too, and Dean was on the grill, and he bitched at us if we even tried to touch it, like we don't touch things far more dangerous than a grill every single day of our lives, and Cas — remember Cas sitting right next to him and we, Cas and you and I, we plated them, and Jack, he went around and kept saying it smelled great, and they — they were all here, and maybe the world was still ending but the burgers were excellent, everyone was alive, and it was a really good day, because Sam isn't even sure if that ever happened.

Or if he somehow made that up, maybe to have more happy memories of his family, before — before they were gone.

It's not even like he can say any of the other things either — the things he knows did happen, but are too far away now to hope for again.

He hates to bring it up now, especially since there's nothing to be done about it. Especially since everyone's — mostly — okay now, and everyone's happy.

Sam's happy too, of course. He's living with the love of his life, living around people he loves, and for the first time in his life, living in peace. But there's a difference, and there's always going to be one. There's going to be bad days and good days, and days he wants to think about Dean and Cas and Jack until it hurts, and days he wakes up staring at Eileen or the ring on her finger and can think of nothing else but how lucky he is, for the rest of it.

And he's just going to have to deal with it, doesn't he — because there'll always be one of the latter kind around the corner.

(So much for normal problems and normal lives.)

"Sam," Eileen repeats, worried.

So Sam clenches his jaw, and instead of well, all of that, just lets out a, "It's nothing."

She waits.

"I just miss them, you know."

"I miss them too," she says quietly, and then hugs him, arms around his neck, and pulling his weight towards herself instead of the other way around.

(Somehow, it's even a Dean hug.)

But this way, she can't make out what he's saying anymore, her chin tucked on his shoulder and his face out of her sight, although it's probably just as well because Sam's got nothing more to say anyways.

Well except, as he finds himself muttering into her hair, in a wrecked voice that even reminds him of a much, much younger himself, crying to a hardly teenaged Dean about Dad being away too long, "And I miss Dean."

Because now he might be lucky enough to have a family, and eight years ago, he might've been too, but all his life the only family that's always remained, has been Dean.

Dean, with his borderline science-experimental cooking skills, and his awful bestowed names to made-up foods, and his incredibly smug face when Sam inevitably liked it. Dean, with his annoying nicknames that Sam missed more than he could ever have accounted for, and his larger-than-life fixation on bacon once they had a kitchen, and a family that never stopped growing —

"I miss him so much too," says another strained voice, and Sam looks up to confirm it's Claire, standing a foot away, posture rigid like she's nineteen and a rebel looking for a fight again, in an enormous, purple apron rather than a biker jacket.

But she deflates the moment Sam meets her eyes with a small, sympathetic smile, and before he knows it, he's being hugged by two people at once — Eileen shifting so they can both put both their arms around each other and Sam.

(Oh and Dean, with his kinda-sorta daughter who somehow ended up mastering both his burgermaking art and taste in aprons.)

Sam hugs them both back, tight, grateful that they're here — just as he's grateful for every single one who is.

Grateful .

*

(Later, once the burgers are served, Sam finds Claire again — and sits down next to her and Sarah, who's currently trying to prove to her mom she can eat by herself, and failing in an objective sort of a way.

"You know," Claire begins, out of the blue, her eyes still on the six-year-old. "At least those old grumps have each other up there."

Sam grins in spite of himself. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," She smirks, looking sideways at Sam. "Yeah, they definitely do." And a touch of sincerity has been added when she says, "They're happy, y'know."

"I do."

It's good to hear, even though he knows — Jack had popped by to tell them, several years ago, on Sam's forty fourth birthday — and it's good to hear it from her. It's strange, in a nice way, that Claire's so much older too. Thirty, and married. A mother, now. Cas and Dean would be so proud of her.

Sam is so proud of her. His eyes soften and he smiles, "I love you."

Claire looks up at him in surprise, for the slightest moment teary-eyed again, and then suddenly furrows her eyebrows and puts on her best Dean voice.

"No chickflick moments, Sammy."

It's — well, it's a hell of an impression.)

[goodluckbabe2024]

do not leave me in this abyss | 1.4k | ao3

“You said I killed you-haunt me, then! [...] Be with me always—take any form—drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!”

A couple of weeks after Chuck’s defeat and Dean still hasn’t washed the handprint off the jacket. Instead, he prays.

The ice in Dean’s whiskey glass has long since melted but condensation still drips down, marking a path on the floor as he sets the glass down and picks it up over and over, never drinking but pretending he could.

Twenty days past Chuck’s defeat and Dean has nothing to show but empty spaces. At times it doesn't even feel like he’s free, like he managed to escape, and it's just the AuthorGod of his life knows that what he’s doing is too boring to present to the audience. The man never knew how to write about a lack of action.

Across from Dean’s perch on his bed and draped across a chair is the jacket, the one he’s mysteriously unable to find any time Sam comes in to do the laundry, but resurfaces the moment the door is closed. With nowhere else to go, his eyes drift to it.

The handprint. It stares at him; bright red against the green background and Dean may have never taken an art class but he’d passed through enough towns with Christmas as the main event to know how the colors pop. A faint ache in his left shoulder, the arm he’s been using to hold the glass. If he closes his eyes he could trace the faint white lines of the handprint even now, 12 years after it was burned more than skin-deep.

Once, when helping Sam study for a test, he’d read about a man who’d been in an accident—something happened to his brain—and that man lost the ability to make memories and so had to leave his family to be protected by strangers, scientists. He couldn’t remember anything about his new life, everything he had was from before, but he was able to form muscle memory despite having no knowledge of how.

That’s Dean. He’s stuck here, stuck with no ability to move on and become someone else, rooted in a past he clings on to as the present. Repeating this over and over again, going through the motions until he goes to sleep and hopes that maybe this time, when he wakes up, Cas will be back. That’s how it happened once before, right? Coming back from the dead and Cas’ number on his phone and sheer relief striking through Dean hot and quick that he had managed to survive.

He doesn’t know when it happened, but every move he makes turns to Cas, some habit that had snuck up on him. In the dead of night, he’d wake up, arm numb, and discover that he’d been laying on it in his sleep, right hand clutching the scar.

When that happens he never returns to his dreams, dark as they are, choosing instead to stumble once more to the Bunker library, searching for ways into the Empty. Sam’s found him more than once passed out over a book older than the country. He learned quickly not to wake Dean when he’s like that.

Setting the glass down, Dean closes his eyes, takes the end of the jacket in his hands—avoiding the handprint—and starts his prayer.

“Cas,” he begins, voice already thick. He speaks at no more than a whisper but feels every nerve alight like he’s screaming this to the world.

“It’s been a couple of weeks since you left me, and this world is still turning. Well, turning again, there have been some advancements in the plot since you last saw us. I’ll tell you all about them when I see you again.”

He thinks he may have just quoted something. Cas and his angel-granted pop culture encyclopedia would know, though he wouldn’t be able to use it right. Warmth blooms in Dean and he ducks his head, feeling the smile tugging at his lips. It doesn’t quite make it to launch, but Cas has always been able to bring one out of Dean, even in the darkest times of the darkest times, when the light at the end of the tunnel bled red.

“But we did it Cas, we won, like I’ve told you before. I’d say I couldn’t do it without you but I did because I had to, even though I wish I didn’t.”

No, really , he thinks, remembering what it was like to stand his own against Chuck. He may have fought for free will, for an ability to write his own script, but Dean’s words weren’t his own: they were Cas’, some of his last.

He doesn’t know if thought counts as part of the prayer—never got the courage to ask—but he hopes it does. From what he’s heard of the Empty, he doesn’t want Cas to be alone.

“And I—I know you get scared sometimes when we find something new,” Dean continues. “Believe me, I do too. Chuck may have monologued about how you’re a beacon of Free Will but I know you, and I know you’ve made some choices you regret. But when I get to you, when I manage to break into the Empty and rescue you for once, I need you to let me.”

He breathes hard, his chest burning. One, two. Somewhere in the Bunker Sam drops something, a crash followed by a muffled curse. So many rooms unused when it’s just the two of them; Dean hasn’t touched the Dean Cave in weeks. After a beat, he adds:

“Besides, I’ve made you sit through Star Wars enough times, you’ll know your lines.”

For all that Dean has been unable to think about anything but Cas since the handprint left on his shoulder, none of that thinking has gone into the future. His plan so far is this: research, find something (a spell, a tablet, a god, a witch, anything) that can reach into the Empty, and use it to save Cas. He moves past that point and it’s all static, a radio caught between frequencies.

But he thinks, in the quiet ways, in moments of sharing movies and music and a son and a life, it all proves that what comes next can’t be totally hopeless, that Cas couldn't have been totally hopeless. For twelve long years, Cas knew Dean before Dean knew himself, so why is this different?

Cas said he couldn’t have what he wanted, but Chuck is dead and free will hangs high in the air like laughter. And Dean says so.

“You told me that you couldn’t have what you wanted, the one thing you wanted. Me, right?” The words are hard to choke out, but he forces himself to be brave the way Cas was. “Well, when the world thrives, when the apocalypse is over and we have time to breathe, that’s when you get to move past needs, that’s when you get to have your wants. Do you hear me? I need you to hear me.

“You say I changed you? Prove it then. Come back. Be changed. You’ve saved me from gods and angels and monsters more times than I could count, but you also saved me from myself. I’m returning the favor, but don’t you dare think this is a quid pro quo.”

No response on the one-way street. He keeps his eyes closed, lets the darkness settle over him like a skin. The fabric is rough and sturdy underneath his fingertips and he imagines reaching up towards the shoulder and his hand coming away wet as if Cas only just cashed in on the deal that's left Dean breathless ever since. Dean could just grab his hand, still dripping blood, and bandage it even though angels don’t need it because taking care of Cas like this is the only way he knows how.

But he doesn’t risk it, doesn’t want to contaminate what he has left of Cas.

“I’ve told you before that I need you,” Dean says, rounding out the prayer. He should get up, check on Sam, wash the dishes piling up in his room. A million steps to take before he can truly, deeply sleep. Who knows who will be at his side when that happens. “But I never let you know that I want you. Never let you know a lot of things, I guess. But I do, Cas.

“I really, really do.”

[stratiotis-nth]

The footsteps got louder, and they were close enough now that Dean could hear a low voice muttering to itself and a pen tapping against a stack of papers. The door behind him squeaked as it was pushed open, the voice’s distracted muttering coming to an abrupt halt.

“Oh, uh, hello?”

Something pinged distantly in the back of Dean’s head at the voice, but he was turning around before he could properly analyze it. A patented Dean Winchester Charm smile was lifting the corners of his mouth, a smile he had perfected over the years that he never really meant but always got what he wanted. His eyes raked up leather shoes and pressed black slacks to a fitted suit jacket over a black button down that was popped open at the top. Broad shoulders filled the fabric just right, and muscular arms clutched a stack of papers.

Everything was normal until Dean’s eyes landed on his face. The world came to a screeching stop as his entire body unanimously decided to try and vomit out it’s insides. His heart tried to split off in opposite direction to tug at his stomach and cram his throat. His split lip throbbed painfully and his ears filled with a loud ringing.

It was Cas.

Dean was lost when he saw those eyes again, accented by slanted eye bags that always seemed more artful and not at all unattractive. A pen was pinched between plump lips, stubble accented that sharp jawline, and unruly black hair that was longer and hung down the sides of his face, a pair of glasses perched on top. But those goddamn eyes…

Dean was well aware (was now, anyway) that all those times he and Cas had stared at each other that they were eyefucking. He knew those irises by heart—a stunning shade of blue handpicked from the sea, surrounded by a ring of navy that teased on black. They were just unfairly blue, and Dean never stood a chance.

Something sang mournfully in his chest, something that wailed with loss and grief. He forgot how long he had been staring without saying anything, too lost in his own shock and sorrow to register the man was talking.

“—help you?”

Dean blinked when the eyes broke from his gaze to flickered up and down, assessing him curiously. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, aggravating the split. Once again, that twinge of pain was enough to remind Dean of where he was. He cleared his throat.

“Professor Bradshaw?” He just barely managed not to sound choked up.

“Yes. Can I help you?”

Nothing was making sense. It was Cas—right down to the squinty eyes and tilted head. Dean’s head spun dizzily, and he couldn’t think to remember why he was even here. All he could think about was black ooze swallowing up that face, devouring this eyes and watery smile as he accepted his own death sentence—

“Sir?”

Dean blinked again, biting down hard on his split lip. It was going to get infected at this point, but he didn’t really care.

“Sorry, I—I just remembered I…I’d lost someon—thing. Something. I-I’m a private investigator, I wanted to ask you a few questions.” He gave himself a mental pat on the back for stringing that sentence together properly and not sounding like he was choking on his own trauma.

That’s Cas, that’s Cas, that’s Cas, that’s Cas…

“Ah well,” Bradshaw said quickly. “I’m afraid I don’t have time for an interview. I’m extremely busy—“

Dean was definitely no longer in the right headspace to be asking the right questions, so he immediately jumped on the out.

“That’s alright, your TA mentioned you were busy.” He leapt to his feet as if the seat burned his ass. “I’m sure I can find you at another time.”

Bradshaw blinked, a little taken aback by how little Dean had resisted.

“Right.” He mumbled, dumping his armful of papers on his desk. “You talked to Vipin?”

“Uh, yeah. Good kid.” Dean felt that lump rising up in his throat again as he watched Bradshaw frown at the papers like Cas used to frown at something that confused him. Shit, he couldn’t keep watching this. “I’ll come back another time.” He choked out, turning on his heel and darting for the door.

“Um, wait just a moment.” Bradshaw called. Dean’s entire body froze, inside and out. “What exactly are you investigating?”

Think, goddamnit. Dean mentally berated himself. His head was spinning. Black goo, teary eyes, a beautifully sorrowful smile.

I love you.

“Your father’s disappearance.” He rasped out, slamming his eyes shut to fight against the tide of memories pressing against his skull.

“My father disappeared forty years ago.” Bradshaw said, suspicion leaking into his tone. “Why are you investigating now?”

“His badge showed up, didn’t he?” Dean managed, his voice a little thick. “New lead.”

You changed me, Dean.

“Right, right…” Bradshaw hummed. “Feel free to come back tomorrow at 2. I have office hours.”

“Sure thing.” Dean gritted out, and ducked out of the office without another look back. His hands were clammy and trembling, and he shoved them into his pockets so he didn’t have to look at them. His breath was shallow, his head was light and he could see stars floating around the outskirts of his vision. His feet carried him down the stairs and back out into the parking lot, where cool autumn air slapped him across the face like a bucket of ice water. He drew in a sharp breath.

Everything you have done, the good, the bad, you have done for love.

Dean braced his arms against the Impala, pressing his forehead into the crook of his elbow. Everything was rushing back, vivid and more painful than he ever remembered it being. All he could see was Cas in the dungeon again, speaking with tears rolling down his face that juxtaposed the smile he wore. All he could feel was the terror and pain upon seeing Bradshaw in the doorway, looking exactly like the man he had lost.

Because the one thing I want…it’s something I know I can’t have.

“Goddamnit, Cas.” Dean choked, leaning fully against Baby as his knees buckled. Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks as he heaved in air, trying to stay conscious. He’d passed out crying over Cas before, but hadn’t in nearly three months. The pain washed over him, the agony of losing someone he loved so familiar, but never less painful.

He knew he hadn't been coping well. He was on the brink of breaking every second of the goddamn day. But seeing Bradshaw, a shadow of Cas down to the very shade of his eyes, torn down the flimsy wall Dean had desperately tried to erect between reality and his emotions.

He let out an explosive breath, jerking his head up and cramming away the well of sorrow. He ran a palm across his face to brush away the tear tracks, sucking in a deep breath to regain his composure. He needed to get back to Sam without crashing the car. He could deal with this later with his brother there to back him up.

Dean rearranged his features into a scowl, locking his shit up tight, and ducked into the car.

He wasn’t Cas. He couldn’t be. For his own sanity, he could not be Cas.

Funny how Dean had spent so long hoping Cas would make some miraculous comeback, and now needing not to cling to the far away, near-impossible hope.

It might kill him if he did, and he was wrong.

[apatheticanvas67482]

Even When You Hide

Happy @starrynightdeancas​ celebration day to @firefly124​! I got really busy over the last couple of weeks, so its not as good as I wanted it to be for you, but I hope you like it anyways. (also I had to abandon my sketches and normal art style today due to technical difficulties, so the art is a bit rubbish, sorry, if i get round to finishing the other one in my normal style when i get home to my computers, I will send it your way) BUT ANYWAYS I hope you love it (the fic not the art, hides) and I think Sophie is the dopest for putting this whole thing together.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Castiel

Tropes: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss

Based: Somewhere after 10.03, when Crowley give Cas grace and Dean is cured of Demon-ness, and 10.18, when Cas gets his grace back. I did not mention the Mark of Cain though. 

Song: I See You - Missio

Word count: 2.2K

I see you when you're down And depressed, just a mess I see you when you cry When you're shy When you want to die I see you when you smile It takes a while At least you're here I see you

It had been 25 minutes since Dean had sent Cas to pick out the paint for his room. He put down all the sheets and lined the sockets and skirting boards with tape and was now sitting at the foot of the bed, tapping his foot to a silent beat.

Dean hadn’t known what to get the angel from the store so there were currently 12 pots of paint, all different colours, sitting on shelves in the garage. He chewed on the inside of his cheek absentmindedly, picturing the scrunch of Cas’ eyebrows and the tilt of Cas’ head as he scowled at the cans.

‘Dean. What does it matter if the room is winter blue or baby blue?’ Dean could almost hear him ask it - the gravel of Cas’ voice rumbled in the back of his mind. Dean shook his head, smiling, and headed to see what the hold-up was.

What he found was a mess.

“Fuck. Shit!” Pots of paint were scattered across the room. Most were broken open, stripes of paint led away from a large metal cabinet that had toppled over onto the Impala and cast the tins in all directions.

“Cas!”

Dean ran forward, holding his breath. The cabinet had smashed right through Baby’s windshield, fracture lines spanned what was left leaving chunks of glass suspended in the laminated frame. The bonnet had been completely crushed, practically folded in half, and the corners had torn into the paintwork. Dean would be seething except he couldn’t breathe. He threw his weight behind his shoulder, forcing it under the shelves and straining until black dots danced in his vision.

“Cas!” Dean collapsed, his efforts futile. “Cas! Where the hell are you?!”

And then he heard it – the quick and broken, but quiet sobs of an angel. Dean whirled around o fast his neck cracked and then he crawled, actually crawled on his hands and knees, towards the sound.

Behind the impala, Cas was perched on the balls of his feet with his trench coat pooling around him. Dean had never seen him cry before, not like this. There was a streak of paint that ran from just under his left eye to the corner of his mouth. Where his tear tracks converged with it, the drops turned blue and fell to the ground like grace. Dean watched, transfixed for a moment, before scrambling closer.

“Cas.” Dean’s voice louder than he meant it, startled Cas out of his fugue state. His hands, which had been moving, stilled instantly as he looked back at Dean with wide shiny eyes.

“I don’t want to go, Dean.” The cracks in Cas’ voice tugged at Dean’s soul. He didn’t understand.

Dean shook his head. “What?”

Cas’s eyes only grew larger as the hunter reached out, “Dean, please don’t make me go.” His arm hung in the air, terrified of doing the wrong thing. He knew Cas couldn’t fly anymore but it had never stopped feeling as though their conversations were timed, except Dean couldn’t see the numbers on the clock. He was always waiting for Cas to vanish. “I want to stay.”

Bile rose in the back of Dean’s throat and his hand dropped like dead weight between them as he realised what Cas was saying, what he was thinking. He thought back to months before. ‘You can’t stay.’ He’d said, the same bile rising in his throat as now. He looked at Cas in his human clothes, that goddamn hoodie., and watched as Cas’ heart broke. Watched as the hurt played openly on his features, defences down. And then, he’d looked away. Dean remembers looking anywhere but into his best friend’s eyes, knowing that if he did his resolve would surely crumble. Now, all he wanted was for Cas to look at him, but the angel had gone from a deer in the headlights to refusing to lift his head higher than his shoulders.

“I can fix it, I promise.” Cas’s hands started moving again. His fingers shook as he tried to slot several pieces of broken glass back together. Small cuts littered his palms, bleeding freely as Cas worked.

“Cas. Cas, why-” Dean swallowed around the lump of panic still tuck in his throat, “Why aren’t you healing? Is it the grace? Is it failing?” His hands had found there way between them again. They hovered uselessly over Cas’ own. Cas was shaking his head, but Dean wasn’t sure if it was in answer to his question.

“Cas?” Dean didn’t know what to do, until he did. Taking a shaky breath, he allowed his panic to consume him for one second more before he tabled it.

“Cas,” His voice was gentle but solid, “Cas, stop it. Please,” - Dean stilled Cas’ hands with his own. He turned them palm up and, careful not to catch any of the cuts, unfurled the angel’s trembling fingers with is thumb – “Just stop.”

Cas was still refusing to meet his eyes, but he’d stopped shaking his head. He stared down at the pieces of glass and Dean followed his gaze. He recognised them as the broken remains of a small glass statue of an angel. Sammy had presented the thing to a few years ago after he’d nabbed it from some rogue crossroad demon’s second-hand shop to bully Dean with. ‘A guardian angel to save me from your moping when Cas is away,’ Sam had said, and Dean had shoved it deep down inside Baby’s trunk. That was until they moved into the bunker and Dean had felt some strange compulsion to place the glass angel atop the recently toppled shelves. Cas had been there, tilting his head at him. ‘Present from Sam,’ He’d practically growled before running away.

“Hey,” One of Dean’s hands left Cas’ in favour of poking him gently in the cheek. Cas jerked backwards slightly, finally meeting Dean’s eyes. He was still crying but less so. Dean nodded, “I need you to listen to me. You. Are. Not. Going. Anywhere. Ever. Again.” He waved his free hand at the mess around him. “All this, none of it matters,” Dean moved his other thumb in circles, steeling himself. This moment is what all his years watching chick flicks in secrecy had been preparing him for. “You, Cas, are what matters. To me.”

Dean held his breath for one, two, three seconds. Cas hiccoughed, blinking one, two, three times as the last of his tears fell from his cheeks.

“Why aren’t you healing?” Dean whispered into the space between them, a little afraid of anything louder.

“I didn’t want to waste m…” Cas looked lost, “It.” Dean waited.

“When Metatron took my grace from me, he left me human. Except I’m not human. Jimmy though, Jimmy was human, fragile. Without my powers, I’m,” Cas struggled with his words, he looked away. “I’m a baby in a trench coat.” Fuck. “I am nothing. And I can’t go back to that. I can’t keep steeling my kin’s grace from them, reducing them as I have been reduced. I can’t.” He dropped his head to his chest once more. “But I also don’t want to die.

“Castiel.” Dean swerved back into Cas’ eyeline as he spoke, “You are not nothing,” Cas stared at him, not believing.

“You are not human. You’re not Jimmy. But you’re not your grace either.” Dean was going to make him understand how wrong he’d been sitting in Eve’s diner. “You’re not your vessel and you’re not your powers. When I look at you-” The hunter swallowed, “When I look at you, I just see… you. I see you, Cas.”

He looked down at their hands, feeling dizzy. He couldn’t believe how mushy he was being or how much he didn’t mind. He felt like Colin Firth. “As for the rest of it, we’ll figure it out. We always do. The grace situation… Well,” Dean smiled, small. “We’ll make it up as we go.” Dean lifted Cas’s hands to his lips and pressed a kiss into a single cut. After a moment, grace began to shine beneath the skin and the wounds pulled themselves closed.  Beaming now, he leant back and ran his thumb over the soft new skin, turning their hands so their finger interlocked.

“Dean, I-”

“I made a mistake,” Dean interrupted, “I have made so many mistakes. But, kicking you out like has to be one of the worst. No explanation, no assistance, no nothing. It’s the wrongest I’ve ever been in my life. Gadreel gave me an ultimatum but that’s not an excuse. Doesn’t even come close to justifying what I did. I should’ve told you what was going on. Maybe if I had tried, for even a second, to communicate, we could have avoided a lot of pain. I should’ve – I should’ve done a lot. But I didn’t, and that wasn’t good enough.’

“Dean, it’s okay.”

“No, no it’s not.” Dean broke eye contact then.

“Okay, well” Cas squeezed his hands, “I forgive you then. How’s that?”

Dean huffed out half a laugh. His next words caught in throat as he looked back at Cas. He was so close to him. Dean supposed he always was. Dean’s eyes caught on Cas’ mouth where he had worried at his bottom lip. It was red and sore and wasn’t healing. Before Dean knew what he was doing, he was tipping forward, eye slipping shut. When they met in the middle, he barely felt it. He touched his lips to Cas’ like he had to his hands, his heart pounding against the inside of his ribcage. Dean didn’t realise he hadn’t been breathing until Cas’s lips moved against his own and he gasped for air. He leant against Cas’s forehead breathing far too heavily for such a chaste moment. They sat there just breathing in each other’s air for one, two, three seconds. Then Dean surged forwards, pushing of his feet so he was kneeling up over Cas. He dropped the angel’s hands in favour of holding his head in his own, pressing desperate kiss after desperate kiss to Cas’s mouth. Cas leant backwards under him as they kissed, moulding to fit the curve of his body. His dropped hands had twisted their way into Dean’s flannel, pulling him closer.

As Dean’s lungs screamed for breath, he pulled slowly away. Cas’ head dropped to rest against his sternum and Dean allowed himself to bury his face in his hair. His hands had settled at the base of Cas’ neck and began tracing nonsensical patterns into the skin there.

“C’mon,” He leant back and pulled Cas with him. Leading him by hand past the impala and a few scattered paint cans. He stopped by one - one of the only ones not broken open - and leant down to pick it up. ‘Dusty Cyan’. Perfect. He tucked it under his arm, and flashed Cas a smile.

I'm alone with you You're alone with me What a mess you've made of everything

I'm alone with you You're alone with me And I'm hoping that you will see yourself Like I see you

The next day found them huddled close together leaning over Baby as Dean taught Castiel how to hammer dents out metal without causing more damage and replace a windshield.

“D’you want to know something?” Dean cracked open his beer. Cas hummed from where he was bent over working a dent out of the open bonnet. He was wearing one of Dean’s ratty old Bon Jovi shirts, damp with sweat and motor oil and chewing on his lip distractedly – and distractingly. “Sammy got me that angel to tease me about you.”

Cas looked up then, “About me?”

“Yeah.” The hunter coughed, wondering what had possessed him to open his mouth and start yet another chick flick. Maybe he should be worried about how much of a sap he was becoming. It was Cas’ fault, obviously. “Cuz I always complain when you’re gone.”

Cas turned around and leant back on Baby, his shoulder brushed Dean’s. “You may want to begin coming up with some alternate topics of conversation.”

Dean laughed, “You think so?”

“I have been reliably informed that I’m not going anywhere.” Cas looked at him. “Ever. Again.”

Dean shoved his shoulder, smiling wide when Cas shoved back pressing him back into the Impala’s frame and leaning into his space.

“It’s why I put it up there in the first place instead of shoving in the back of some cupboard.” He poked Cas in the ribs. “Because it reminded me of you.”

“Me.” Cas echoed.

“You,” Dean smirked, “Dumbass.”

Cas growled and silenced him with a kiss for the ages. Dean let himself be taken over by the angel, surrendering the kiss to him and just basking in the feeling of Cas pressed up against him. He didn’t need some glass statue, he already had his guardian angel exactly where he wanted him, and he had proved to be far from fragile.

I see you in the dark At the dawn of something new I see you

[kpop---writings]

Playboy Prince 3

Prince Im Jaebum.

Part 3.

“Welcome back, Prince Im Jaebum,” The butler does a 90 degree bow, “Hello, Princess Y/N.” He turns his attention to you, bowing again.

You nod your head with a smile.

“I’ll take your bags.”

He reaches for Prince Jaebum and while reaching for yours, he gives Jaebum a questioning look.

“You can take her bags to my room as well,” Jaebum already knew what he was thinking

As the butler walks off with both of your bags, Jaebum begins walking further into the castle. You right on his tail.

His castle was very much different from yours. Your parents loved the white marble and classy look. Almost everything in your castle was white, white marble, or some other shade close to white allowing for a slight contrast. With the occasional bright colored piece of decor.

But the Ims’ castle. It was very rich with gold details everywhere and darker shades. Completely opposite what you were used to. Not that you were complaining, it was nice to see something different. It made you feel like you didn’t need to be so cautious about leaving any kind of dirt behind. 

You hadn’t noticed Prince Jaebum had stopped walking and began to watch you admire his castle. 

“Not what you’re used to, Princess?”

His voice catches you off guard and you quickly look over to him.

“No.” You reply, walking towards where he’s standing, next to a large exotic painting of some animal. “It is very beautiful, though. I can see myself living here.” You give him a wink.

He smirks, “Wait until you see my room.”

---

Prince Jaebum gives a pretty intricate tour of the castle, showing you even the secret passage ways. You’re so in awe the whole time. Their castle gives of a completely different energy than what you’re used to, but you absolutely love it. The dark flooring and walls with gold detail was so captivating to you.

Jaebum, again, watches you closely. Taking advantage of you being completely distracted by his home to look at you. Specifically your lips.

As you’re looking around at everything, you catch his stare.

“What?” You ask confused, “Is there something on my face?” You began feeling all over your face.

He lets out a breathy chuckle, “No, you just look like a kid in a candy store. Have never seen any castle other than your own?”

“I mean I have, but most of the time they all have the same interior.” You look back at some of the paintings in the hallway you’re standing in, “Definitely not covered with such unique art.”

“And what’s with the kid thing again?” You ask.

Prince Jaebum shakes his head, “Just waiting on you to prove otherwise, Princess.”

---

“Come on. Time for the best part.” He grabs your arm and takes you up the stairs and down a long hallway until you reach a set of tall double doors, black and gold of course.

He pushes them open and steps aside for you to walk in first.

The first thing you notice is the big king sized bed in the middle of the room, with dark red bedding and a sheer, black canopy draping off the top from every side of the frame. You briefly wonder how many women he’s fucked on there.

Jaebum walks past you to the middle of the room and spreads his arms out, “So this is our room, what do you think?” With an extra emphasis on the word “our.”

On the outside you give him an annoyed look and roll your eyes, but on the inside, you’re actually screaming. That’s cute.

“It’s cute, actually. The bed, especially, seems cozy.”

He tilts his head to the side, “So the bed is what caught your attention, huh?”

“Because I like to sleep, Prince Jaebum.” 

You hear him sigh, dramatically.

“I know what you’re doing, you know.” He says, as you walk around the room, touching and looking at everything. 

You don’t look at him as a smile creeps on your face, “And what is it I’m doing?”

“You know. That thing where you keep saying things that could have a double meaning.” You turn to look at him and see he’s sitting at the end of the bed now. “What are you up to, Princess?”

He looks absolutely delicious right now. He’s seated so beautifully at the end of the bed, legs parted, and leaning back onto his hands. You imagine how he would react if you just got down on your knees in front of him right now. You subconsciously lick your lips, a little too slow.

“Hello! Princess!” He starts waving his hands around, “What are you thinking about?” He’s smirking now.

You ignore him and continuing looking around at everything. 

He lets you look around a little bit, allowing you to get a little more comfortable with your new home.

“Why don’t you come over here with me,” he’s lying down now, eyes on you.

You slowly walk towards the side of the bed he’s laying on and he scoots over and pats the bed next to him, signaling for you to lie down.

Okay. Laying next to him won’t cause any harm. Right?

---

You two lay in silence for a while, you momentarily forget about all the teasing and banter you two normally do. It’s nice actually. You guys are actually cuddling right now. His arm wrapped over you while you rest on his other.

Jaebum feels different with you. He’s never allowed any girl in his room, let alone his bed. He never cuddled any of the other princesses he fucked, he felt like that involved too much emotion and would complicate things. This, though, with you was very relaxing.

The sound of you speaking breaks the comfortable silence.

“Prince Jaebum ca-”

“You can just call me Jaebum, Princess.”

“Jaebum,” saying just his name feels nice. Like he trusts you.

 “Can I ask you a question and get a very honest answer?”

Jaebum just knows it’s about the rumors. Of course he’ll be honest with you, you’re about to marry him, so what’s the point in lying about it anymore?

“Princess, any question you have I will answer honestly. I have no reason to lie to you, we’re about to be married.” He responds

That makes you smile. You also think maybe it’s just because there’s nothing you could really do about whatever the answer is except just knowing about it from him himself.

“I want to know how many women you’ve fucked.”

 You lean up on your arm, facing him. 

“You want the absolute truth?”

“That’s what I said.”

“I’ve only been with four, one of them isn’t even a princess.”

You sit up fully now. Is he lying to you right now?

“You’re lying. You just told me you were going to be honest.”

“I also told you I have no reason to lie.”

He sits up too, so you’re now sitting across from each other.

“I slept with Princess Sooyoung , you know, the princess of all princesses. She wasn’t a good fuck so I never asked to see her again, which she did not take well. Apparently she thought us fucking meant I wanted her to be my queen, so with the help of her friends, they all spread the rumor about me.”

You can see the sadness in his eyes. He always seemed like he was proud to have such a reputation, but watching him tell the story you can see it actually did bother him, there was just nothing he could do about it and he knew it.

You reach up to rub his arm, in a comforting way. 

“Hey. I believe you, Jaebum.”

He looks up at you with longing eyes. He looks at your lips briefly and then back to your eyes.

You want to kiss him. So bad.

Lucky for you, he leans in first.

His soft lips against yours feels like heaven. You feel like you’re in a dream, getting lost in the motion of your lips moving in sync with his.

You feel his hand touch your thigh and you tense. He notices.

He quickly pulls his hand away and pulls away from the kiss. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything I just-

“Jaebum,” You cut him off. “I wasn’t uncomfortable. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

You move closer to him and grab his hand to put back on your thigh, a little bit higher than where he put it. You lean in to kiss him, this time going lower.

You slowly give him an open mouthed kiss on his neck, sucking on the skin as you pull away and go back up to his lips.

Jaebum could feel himself growing in his pants at the way you just kissed his neck.  He moves his hand up your body from your thigh to your waist and pulls you onto his lap, never breaking the kiss. He makes sure to push his hard on into you so you know exactly how you’re making him feel right now.

The feeling of his dick lightly rubbing against your clit is making you unbelievably wet. You just want him inside you already filling you completely, you can just tell it’s incredibly thick.

Just as you start grinding down even harder against him, the phone rings. You look over and see it’s his mom calling. 

“Jae- Jaebum,” you breathe out, “It’s your mom, you need to answer it.”

He groans and throws his head back in frustration reaching for his phone.

You stay seated on top of him as he speaks to her. He looks really good under you, his lips plump, face red from the heated moment, and hair a little disheveled from running your hands through it.

After about 10 minutes you realize the conversation isn’t ending soon and you’re starting to feel awkward just sitting here and staring at him. You decide to go shower away the day of travel and the arousal that soaked your panties. It was beginning to get uncomfortable.

You move to get up and Jaebum grabs your leg and gives you a questioning look. You mouth ‘shower’ as you continue to get up. 

He looks sad almost.

---

You strip out of your clothes and step into the hot water. You hum in content. This feels really nice. 

Your mind starts to wander back to what was about to happen and you get that feeling in your stomach again. You close your eyes, lean your head back letting the water hit you, and slide your fingers down your chest all the way to where you needed it most. You can just picture what his dick looks like and you remember how it felt against you.

You let out a sigh as you rub your clit to the thought of Jaebum.

You don’t even hear his footsteps as walks in the very spacious shower behind you.

“Are you starting without me, Princess?”

[ghosthunterbuck]

15x19 Coda

[read it on AO3]

It's… over. They won. And Dean is happy, he really is. It was a near perfect ending. The sun is shining and the Earth's still turning, it's inhabitants entirely unaware of the days they'd lost. He wonders if some scientist won't figure it out, notice that the stars have moved too far for a single day. A puzzle for the decade. And Sam, Sam's practically vibrating with excitement as they draw closer to Eileen with every mile of asphalt beneath their tires.

So yeah, Dean's happy. But it's a hollow sort of happiness.

They'd won, but the cost to play had been too damn high. Dean hadn't asked Jack to bring Cas back because he didn't have to. He'd seen the flash of sadness in his eyes after bringing everyone else back; seen the near-imperceptible shake of his head when Dean took an aborted step after him as he backed away. Jack couldn’t do it.

The kid had been through enough, and Dean wasn't going to make him explain why restoring the entire world was in his power but bringing Cas back wasn't.

Instead, he'd pasted on as much of a smile as he could manage and teased Sam about seeing Eileen again so he wouldn't have to think about who they wouldn't be seeing.

Waking at all is a surprise. Cas had seen the Empty reaching out to him, had felt its icy tendrils envelop him. And he'd felt peace. Dean was safe, and he'd finally said what he'd wanted to all these years. Finally let himself feel love in its entirety. It had been glorious.

Now, he's mostly confused. The Empty is different from what Cas remembers. There's a high pitched whine that seems to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once. In the back of Cas's head, he feels presences other than his own, tugging his consciousness in several directions. With nothing else to do, he picks one at random and begins to walk.

It's well after midnight, and they're still on the road. Sam is asleep on the passenger side, but Dean isn't tired. The last song on the cassette in the tape deck had ended an hour ago, and Dean hadn't bothered to put in a new one. They're miles from any sort of civilization, and Dean has to remind himself more than once that the lack of cars around them doesn't mean everyone is gone again. Still, between that and the muted landscape surrounding them, there's little to do but think.

Before, just after Chuck had wiped the Earth clean of everyone but them, Dean had had to push it all down. Sam was spiraling, and Dean couldn't afford to sink into the stupor he usually found himself in after losing Cas.

And wasn't that a thought? He's lost Cas so many damn times, he has a 'usual' response. This time feels different, though. He feels different. Dean still aches, feels the loss like a gaping hole in his chest. He greets his grief as an old friend, wraps himself in it like a warm blanket. He knows how to survive this loss, though, because he's done it before. And for once, he wants to. Because he wants to live up to what Cas saw in him.

"Michael," Cas says, surprised. His voice sounds strange to his ears, echoless and muted by the void around them.

Perhaps the direction he'd chosen hadn't been quite as random as he'd thought.

"Castiel," Michael replies, "I – I'm sorry," he says. Had Cas not known any better, he would've thought it was Adam speaking, not Michael. The words are pained and soft, brimming with the sort of regret and sorrow that angels are rarely capable of.

"What happened?" Cas asks.

Michael shakes his head mutely and turns away. Cas blinks and he's gone. The high pitched whine remains. Cas continues on.

Dean shakes Sam awake around four in the morning, just as he pulls into a roadside motel. It's the sort they've slept in a thousand times before, stained carpet and questionable mass produced art and all. It feels almost like a homecoming.

"Time is it?" Sam asks, yawning.

"Late," Dean replies. "C'mon, I need a couple hours of shut eye before we keep going."

Sam rubs his eyes and stretches. "How far out are we?" He asks as he climbs out of the car.

Dean shrugs. "Three or four hours?" he guesses.

"That close?" Sam asks.

"C'mon." Dean gestures towards the front of the motel. "A little sleep and we'll be there by lunchtime."

Next, Cas finds Ruby. Or rather, she finds him.

'Well, whatever the hell you did it woke us all up," she says from behind him. Cas spins around to face her.

He doesn't know what to say.

"I guess I should thank you," Ruby continues. "I mean, I could do without the eternal shriek, but it's better than everything that was going on up here." She taps her forehead meaningfully.

"I don't know why we’re awake," Cas says finally.

"Ah," Ruby says. "Then I guess you still owe me." She winks, and then she too is gone. The whine continues. Although, now that he thinks about it, perhaps shriek is a more accurate description.

Dean is exhausted, but even with his eyes shut tight against the soft moonlight that filtered through the motel room's thin curtains he can't sleep. He misses the odd sounds the bunker made at night. He misses his memory foam mattress. He misses his damn nightgown and he misses- well. Best not to go there while he's trying to sleep.

After several more minutes of unsuccessful slumber, Dean sighs and swings himself out of bed. He toes on his boots as quietly as he can manage and slips out into the night. He walks around behind the motel and sits on concrete slab, back against the wall and arms resting on his knees. The night is cold and clear, the stars as bright as he's ever seen them.

For a while he just stares, tracing out the constellations he knows and making new ones in place of the ones he doesn't. Above the big dipper is a group of stars he decides to call Jack. The brightest of them make a sort of circle. Harmony, Dean thinks. Beyond that are several stars in the shape of a child's drawing of of a house. He calls that one Sam. And above it… well, Dean knows that one. Cassiopeia. He doesn't know where it got it's name, but he knows what it means to him. Cas.

His next encounter is less welcome than the first two were.

"Cassie!" Lucifer calls out gleefully. "What a lovely family reunion."

"I have nothing to say to you," Cas rumbles.

"Oh," Lucifer says, "but you'll want to hear what I have to say." He grins, but none of the mirth reaches his eyes.

"Your precious little humans are going to lose," he sing-songs. "I've made sure of it."

"You've been here longer than I have," Cas retorts.

"Dad sprung me," Lucifer replies, "and I-"

Cas pushes past him. "I have no interest in your games," he says. To his surprise, Lucifer says nothing in response.

When he turns around, the Archangel is gone.

Dean tilts his head back against the wall, and for the first time since purgatory, he prays.

"Cas," he says softly. "I don't know if you can hear me. Hell, you probably can't. I know this one was probably it. The big goodbye." Tears begin to form in Dean's eyes, and he does nothing to stop them from falling. "I wanted to say thank you," he whispers. "What you did… we saved the world because of it. Because of you. There're seven billion people out there who owe you their lives. Some of us owe it a few times over." Dean chuckles a little at that, a wet, painful sound. "I need you to know that you changed me too. Of course you did, how could you not? Whatever it is you saw in me… it's there because of you. I never thought… well, I guess we're both stupid. You said the one thing you wanted you couldn't have. Cas," Dean says, his voice breaking, "I wanted it, too." His prayer devolves into choking sobs, the kind that tear themselves from you and won't let you draw breath to replace them.

Cas feels a sharp, painful tug in his grace.

Cas, he hears in his mind. He knows that voice. Cas falls to his knees.

It isn't until the suns rays stain the horizon gold that Dean stands again. He dusts himself off and wipes at the dried tear tracks on his face. He aches, but he also feels some relief. He hadn't said it all but… he'd said enough. The rest he can keep for himself, at least for now. He slips back into the motel room where, predictably, Sam is still asleep. He steps out of his shoes and slides beneath the scratchy motel sheets. Finally, finally, he sleeps.

"Dean," Cas chokes out. The prayer bounces around his head like a trapped echo. I wanted it, too. Cas feels the wetness on his face even as his determination surges. He's awake, and he's going to find a way home. He has to.

Cas continues walking with renewed purpose, although just as directionless as before. He wanders for what felt like hours or perhaps mere minutes. There's no concept of time in the Empty; only what was and what is. Eventually, he notices that the shriek is getting louder. It suddenly seems to be coming from a specific direction. Cas turns toward it and begins to run.

The little sleep Dean gets leaves him feeling surprisingly refreshed, and they make good time the rest of the way to Eileen. Ten minutes out, and Sam is all smiles, sending her update texts for every street they pass. His happiness is contagious, and Dean finds himself smiling too. He might not have gotten everything he wanted, but dammit Sam deserves this. So does Eileen. They've both been through so much. They're good for each other.

She's waiting on the sidewalk as they pull up to the curb, and Sam's out of the car before they even stop. He runs straight to Eileen, wraps his arms around her and swings her in a circle. She lets out a high pitched squeal and, when Sam puts her down, drags him into a long kiss.

"It's over," she says softly.

"It’s over," Sam agrees.

Eileen wraps her arms back around Sam and presses her face into his shoulder.

Dean looks away. He's happy for them, he is, but it's hard to watch, knowing that he'll never – well. All that matters is that they have each other. Dean is grateful for that.

The Empty is screaming. The closer Cas gets, the more it hurts to listen to. The unending screech rattles his teeth and threatens to tear his eardrums. He keeps walking.

As he draws close, it seems to sense his presence. "You!" it shrieks, turning it's face towards him. It still wears Meg's face, but it bares an expression he's never seen on her before. "You did this!" It lunges at him, but even as he flinches back it falls short, back on it's hands and knees.

"Make it STOP," the Empty pleads. "It's so loud."

It sounds so desperate that Cas almost feels sorry for it.

"Maybe I can help you," he says, though he has no idea how.

"Please," it begs, driven far past the point of reason.

"But if I do," Cas says, "you have to help me too."

"ANYTHING," it screeches.

"Send me home."

The Empty stares up at him. Its lips curl into a snarl. "I. Can't," it says.

"Why?" Cas demands. "You've done it before."

"We made a deal," it replies. "Deals cannot be broken."

"Then I can't help you." Cas turns and begins to walk away. The determination he felt before begins to drain quickly away.

"Wait!" it screeches.

Cas turns. "I can't help you from here," he says.

"If you get back… what will you do?"

"Jack did this to you, right?" Cas verifies. The Empty screeches in anger. It's all the confirmation Cas needs. "Then I'll get him to undo it. It's the only way to put them back to sleep. For you to go back to sleep."

The Empty stares at him for a moment in silence. It nods. "It's a deal," it says. It lunges at him, and this time Cas is too slow to avoid it. It wraps itself around him and tears him open. It's like dying all over again, but a thousand times more painful. It's as if his very essence is being torn from him. As if – oh. That's exactly what it is. It's unmaking him. The Empty is for angels and demons and other celestial beings, and if he isn't one… before he has time to finish the thought, he's gone.

The Empty curls in on itself to wait. It screams.

Dean makes some bullshit excuse about finding parking and drives off, leaving Sam and Eileen to catch up. It serves the dual purpose of giving them some alone time and him some space. He drives without thinking, makes random turns onto streets he doesn't know until he finds himself at the edge of town. He parks the car and gets out.

He begins to wander on foot, walking along a dirt road that runs between two corn fields. It almost certainly leads nowhere, but he feels an irrational need to follow it, as if there's something important at the end.

And then he sees it. He swears.

He'd known they were somewhere in Illinois, but he hadn't realized they were here.

The barn is more rundown than the last time he saw it, but Dean knows it's the same one. He can feel it in his bones. He wants to let go, to fall to his knees and sob, but something in him pushes him forward. He walks until he reaches its ramshackle doors. He places his hand lightly on one.

This is stupid, he knows. There's nothing for him beyond those doors except heartbreak and longing. Still though, there's something fitting about saying goodbye where it all began. He takes in a deep breath and pushes the door open. Its hinges squeal, but he pays them no mind because the barn isn't empty.

In it's center lays a dark haired man, naked and shivering. Cas. Cas.

Dean sprints forward. He doesn't care if this is a trick, doesn't care if he's gone mad. It's Cas.

Everything hurts. Cas is cold, and disoriented and lost and the only emotion he can process is relief. Because these aren't the sort of things that an angel feels. They're what humans feel. And humans don't belong in the Empty. He hears a noise behind him, hears a sharp intake of breath, and he knows.

He's home.

Dean falls to his knees as Cas sits up and turns to face him. "Cas," he breathes. All of his energy seems to leave him at once. He reaches out with a shaking hand and stops just shy of touching Cas's cheek.

"Hello, Dean," Cas replies warmly. He presses his face into the proffered hand.

Dean chokes out a sob, and then he's pulling Cas toward him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and pressing his face into his hair. Cas returns the gesture, snaking his hands around Dean's waist. Dean feels dampness against his shoulder and knows that Cas is crying too.

"How?" Dean asks, not loosening his grip at all.

"I made a deal," Cas replies simply.

Dean feels himself tense. "Not that kind of deal," Cas reassures him. "I'll tell you more, but… not right now."

Dean pulls back a little, just far enough to look Cas in the eye. "Cas," he says, "I gotta tell you something."

Cas shakes his head softly. "I heard your prayer," Cas says. "I know."

"I didn't say it all," Dean replies.

"What's left?" Cas tilts his head in that oh-so-familiar way that Dean thought he'd never see again. He lets out another small sob.

"I love you, too," Dean says. "I'm sorry I didn't say it before, I should've said it before. But I love you, I've loved you, I will always love you. You changed me too, Cas."

"You…" Cas says, wonder in his expression.

"You can have it, Cas, of course you can have it. I'm yours."

Cas surges forward, and for the first time he takes, pressing his lips against Dean's. Dean is quick to respond though, giving as good as he gets. They spend who knows how long wrapped up in each other, until finally the need for air forces them to break the kiss. At some point, Dean's hands had wound their way into Cas's hair and he leaves them there as they breathe together.

"Dean," Cas says, and there something desperate in his voice.

"I'm with you," Dean replies.

"There's something you should know," Cas continues. "There was a cost to leaving the Empty," he says.

Cold fear washes over Dean. "What?" he asks softly.

"My grace," Cas answers. "I'm human."

Dean stares at him, open mouthed. "You're..." he starts, but doesn't know how to finish.

Cas nods. "I understand if that changes things," he says softly.

"Of course not Cas, god, of course not. I love you," Dean says. "All of you, in any form, whatever the consequences." Dean pauses for a moment, out of breath. "Are you okay, though?" he asks softly.

Cas breaks out into a wide grin. "Yes, Dean Winchester. Yes, I am."

And Dean's smiling too, so hard it hurts. "C'mon," he says, "You must be freezing." He pulls off his jacket and wraps it around Cas's shoulders. "Let's go home," he says.

"Home," Cas repeats, smiling.

And so, they do.

[frenchlangdon]

this isn’t what i wanted

(Part 5 to everything i wanted)

everything i wanted masterlist

A/n: it’s been awhile since I’ve last posted a chap! I just haven’t been motivated to write. I did write the first half of this like a month or two ago and I got stuck so I decided to just do a time jump. Also this chapter is like extremely messy, I apologize! I have no idea where I’m going with this but I hope you enjoy this somewhat! ALSO!!! Happy 32nd birthday to Cody omg he’s getting old 😂

—

“Do you feel your heart beating?” Michael would ask this question numerous times a day, being alive, feeling alive wasn’t really what you were focusing on at the moment. Guilt was overshadowing every emotion. You couldn’t shake it, it was making you physically sick. You once again were selfish and this time it ended up killing Xavier. You couldn’t forgive yourself for that. Sure you had wanted to be alive again and you thought you would have done anything for a second chance but if you knew it would’ve cost Xavier his life, you wouldn’t have done it.

You nodded, not looking at Michael. You were still processing everything that happened. It had been a week since you saw Xavier burst into flames. You were on edge ever since. During this whole week your body would start to shake and you’d completely lose all control and start to sob uncontrollably.

“Would you ever do that to me?” You finally looked at him. Your eyes stayed glossy, your eyes were like an overflowing fountain. You hadn’t stopped crying the whole week and you had a constant headache because of it. “No my love. I could never hurt you.” He smiled softly at you as he cupped your cheek. He looked at you so tenderly. He truly adored you. “I trusted you, Michael.” You let out a small whimper, trying your hardest not to let the tears escape. “But you betrayed my trust and you hurt me. You took away the only person who meant something to me. Just like those witches took away your Ms. Mead.” He blinked at your statement and stood back. “I did that for us. So that we could be together. Didn’t you want that?” His voice was small, genuinely hurt, he stood there watching you, studying your face. “I only want your love.” He shook his head as he spoke. “Why me, Michael?”

“That day we met, I was pulled to you. You’re telling me it wasn’t like that for you? Once I saw you I knew I had to have you. We were made for each other. You’ll see, I promise you.” His eyes pleaded with yours. Your mind was completely scrambled, you weren’t able to think straight, your emotions had gone completely haywire. You were in a very luxurious living room, with very expensive art hanging along the walls, the furniture was designer you just knew it. Maybe if the circumstances were different you would have observed every detail of this room but there you sat in an expensive lounge chair with slightly puffy eyes and Michael crouching in front of you wiping each tear that trailed down your cheek. “Please give me a chance.” He whispered, his bottom lip trembling, he was just as miserable as you were. He truly didn’t think you’d be this affected by what he had done. He just wanted you all to himself and he thought you wanted that too, he was blinded by his own fantasies and ideas. “I really liked you. And you screwed it all up by killing him!”

“He was already dead!”

“What did you do to him then?! I need to know Michael. Let me know if I’ll ever get to see him again. Please. Because I have no fucking clue what to think. I-I don’t know where he is, if he even is anywhere. Just tell me! Stop acting like it didn’t happen. You can’t brush something like that over! You just can’t!” You finally snapped, your face was red and tear stained. Your headache was now throbbing. “I-” He paused, not knowing what to say as he looked down to his lap. “No you can’t see him, he’s gone.” He looked back up into your eyes. Your heart shattered at those words, he was now completely wiped off of this planet. And nobody except you and Michael knew. “I need to be alone.” You mumbled. You turned away from Michael and rubbed your temples. “But I-.”

“Leave me alone Michael!” You yelled out.”

He closed his mouth immediately and vanished.

Now you were wishing you could disappear like before. Just go invisible, never to be seen again. You drew your knees against your chest and cried.

—-

“Pineapple pizza, your favorite.” He murmured as he sat the pizza box down on the table.

You had given him the silent treatment for few months . You would venture outside on your own every other day, exploring the new world. It was completely different than when you were alive before. Michael has gotten you a phone so y’all could keep in touch. He spent almost half a day teaching you everything you needed to know about it. That was the only time you did speak to him, only when you had a question about it. You quickly got the hang of it and you left him alone.

You found yourself taking pictures of the beach, the white sand, the blue waves. Then you started taking pictures of people, couples who were cuddled up together. You took one picture that you were very proud of, it was of a couple laughing. The wind blew the girls hair back just a bit, the sun shone perfectly on their faces, the blue water in the background. You always had a little thing for photography so you were excited to find out there was a built in camera in the phone.

After taking pictures you laid out in the sun and listened to some of the current music, of course some Whitney Houston or Queen would slip in at times and you’d feel nostalgic and remember those days.

You remember jamming out to Bohemian Rhapsody with Xavier in his van. You were going to the beach with him and you remember exactly how you felt that day, the way the sun felt on your skin, almost like how it feels now. The way his fingertips would ghost over your skin, tracing little shapes. The way his lips touched the shell of your ear as he whispered dirty promises. The feeling of him filling you up in the back of the van. His groans and the way he moaned your name.

God you missed him. You kept your eyes closed and tried remembering his smile. You loved his smile. It was so beautiful. He was so beautiful.

“Excuse me, miss?”

You looked up to see a tall and tan shirtless man standing in front of you. Your jaw almost dropped at the sight of him. He had striking blue eyes, brown slightly curly hair, and extremely sexy stubble.

You pulled your sunglasses down the bridge of your nose, “Can I help you sir?” You raised a brow.

He smirked as he glanced at your bikini clad body. “I’ve uh, lost my dog. He’s a German shepherd mix. He has a blue collar…?”

You shook your head as you maintained eye contact with the good looking stranger. “No, I’m sorry.”

“What’s his name? You know, just in case I see him around?”

“His name is Zues.” He paused for a moment. “What’s your name? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Y/n.” You blushed at the stranger.

“Well it was nice meeting you, Y/n. I’m gonna go now… I’ll see you around.” He winked at you and began to jog down the shore. “But I didn’t get your...name!” You called after him.

You were left completely stunned and for some reason amazed by the stranger.

Thirty minutes after the encounter you decided to head back to the house, you decided your escapism had to come to an end for the day.

You were greeted with Michael standing at the bar with his hands tangled in his hair and a frustrated look painted on his face. “What’s wrong?” You spoke to him for the first time since last week. He gazed at you for a second before looking to the ground. “Just work.” He mumbled out. Work. You knew exactly what his work was. He told you everything a week after he brought you here. You felt compelled to comfort him, so you walked over to him and embraced him. He tensed in your arms but slowly melted into it. He wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled his face into your neck. “You know somehow I still feel attracted to you. After everything.” You whispered against his chest. “I’m sorry.” He said softly, his voice cracked a bit. You knew he was. You knew by the way he gave you space, the way he was patient with you, how he would look at you with sorrow and guilt whenever he caught you crying. You just knew in your heart he didn’t mean for it to end up like this. “I know you’re not a monster, Michael.” You pulled away and wiped the tears from his face. He leaned in and kissed you. His tender lips against yours felt like heaven. It felt like time had stopped, but he then pulled away. “I love you so much. I’ll never hurt you again. I’ll never let anything happen to you, I promise.” Michael looked deep into your eyes, holding your face in his hands. Your hands wrapped around his wrists as you kept staring into his eyes. “I’m holding you to it then, Michael.” You smiled. He pecked your lips. You were somewhat ashamed of how attracted you were to him, after all the shit he’s done. How could you? But how could you resist, you thought.

You were done denying your attraction to him, you were left a miserable and needy mess.

“Show me how much you love me.” The sparkle in your eye and the tone of your voice let him know exactly what you meant. He picked you up and wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you to his bedroom. He laid you down carefully on his bed. He left kisses all over your jaw, trailing down your neck. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.” He muttered against your collarbone. You moaned in response. “Just wanted to worship your body. Show you how much I want you.” His hands trailed up your sides and landed on your breasts, palming and squeezing them. He untied your swimsuit cover up, his eyes raked over your body, trailing up your torso and landing on your eyes. He leaned down to kiss you, “Michael.” He halted his movements at the sound of your voice, he pulled back slightly and looked at you utterly confused. “What if you stopped doing what your father wants. What if you did what you wanted? What if you stop all of this end time stuff and we can live a normal life? Grow old together. Just be in love.” Your hands went to his face, your palms lying against his cheeks. “What if it was just you and I?” You smiled, you thought you were getting somewhere with him.

“You know I can’t do that. I have plans, a prophecy to fulfill. This is my purpose.”

“But you don’t know that. You don’t have to destroy the world and turn it to dust. You can stop it all. Right here right now and just live with me.”

He just stared into your eyes. “I can’t.” He whispered softly. “Do you love me, Michael?” Your voice trembled. You were desperate to try and stop him.

“You know I do.” He scoffed. “If you truly love me, then you’ll stop this. You’ll quit. Because this isn’t what I wanted. I want you to not be so hard on yourself. To be carefree and happy. To not have to worry about witches and warlocks. I want us to live out the rest of our lives without having to worry about Satan's plans and agenda! Don’t you get that you’re just living in his shadow? I mean come on. You’re not doing what you want to do right? You’re doing what he wants. Let him go and be with me. Just be with me.”

“I want us to be carefree and happy.” Your lips ghosted over his as you spoke.

—

Tags: @xscarlett-rosex | @hoeposey | @mrsnegan25 | @astrobabezblog | @joesliebgott

[whitecatindisguise]

Strangle

So, I got inspired again. Thank you @wheredomelodiescomefrom for creating yet another amazing art (which you can find here).

------

"Cassandra, please!" Varian begged, running up to the woman and grabbing her wrist. "You don't have to do this."

"You are wrong." She snarled and yanked her arm free. "I HAVE TO do this."

"Cass, I know what it's like. I've been there." The boy tried to persuade. "But becoming the villain is not-"

"Is that what you think I am?!" Cassandra snapped and pushed him away.

He backed away, almost tripping on his legs. His eyes widened as the woman came closer, rage in her eyes.

"Ca-Cass. I just want to help!" He cried, and flinched, when his back hit the wall.

The blue-haired woman stopped only inches before him, looking over his smaller body. His terrified eyes locked on her enraged ones.

"I don't need your help!" She shouted, clenching her fist.

The tower rumbled and Varian tensed, eyes darting around in panic. Cassandra grabbed him forcefully and he yelped in pain and surprise.

"Don't move." She hissed but she didn't really have to say it. His mind went blank, body frozen in terror.

Something closed around his neck and his eyes widened, hand subconsciously reaching towards it. He froze again, when his fingers met a rough, spiky surface instead of skin.

"Cass, what-" He started but the woman closed her fist and suddenly something squeezed around his neck.

His eyes went wide, breathing hitched as he tried to pull off the rocks. They pushed on his windpipe, cutting out the oxygen.

He went into complete panic mode, wheezing and clawing at the collar around his neck. Blank spots danced at the corner of his vision, a sure sign of the lack of air.

He fell down, still desperately trying to pry off the rocks. The hold was getting tighter and tighter, less oxygen getting to his lungs. And the fact he was hyperventilating wasn't helping the case.

Then, as sudden as it started, the squeeze receded and he gasped for air, panting heavily. His ears rang, sound muffled and vision blurred.

Cassandra was saying something but he couldn't understand a word. She must have noticed that, because she gave a frustrated huff and created more stones, trapping the exhausted alchemist.The last thing he remembered before finally losing consciousness was the feeling of wind tugging on his hair.

~~~~~~

“Use the Sun to see the Sun? What does that even mean?!” Varian let out an exasperated huff and threw his goggles and scroll. The parchment, luckily, got stuck on one of the bars of his cage, goggles hanging from another spike.

He crossed his arms and sat back, leaning over the rock surface. A ray of light caught his attention and he looked at the scroll. The sun was being reflected in the glass from his goggles, revealing hidden text on the other side.

His eyes widened with realisation and he scrambled closer, a geeky smile appearing on his face.

“Of course! The incantation was hidden with photochromic ink! Demanitus, you genius!” He cried out happily, admiring the parchment.

He was so invested in deciphering the words, he barely noticed someone calling his name. He turned and squinted his eyes, noticing long blonde locks of one of two figures standing in the entrance to the tower.

“We’re going to get you out, kid!” Eugene called and the boy’s eyes moved to the scroll. He took a moment before answering.

“Not now! I’ve found the final incantation! It was hidden with photochromic ink! Obvious, right?” He called back, letting out a small chuckle. The grumble from the opening told him they weren’t that much interested as he was. “But I need the constant ray of light to read it. Something like prism or...”

“Crystal?” Rapunzel asked and he saw her taking something out of her bag. Eugene seemed to be genuinely surprised and pleased.

The two exchanged few words, before the man kissed Rapunzel on the cheek and started to make his way towards the alchemist’s cage.

Varian was looking between Eugene and the sun, anxiously waiting for him to finally deliver the crystal. The sun has almost set and they needed to hurry.

“Eugene, the sun is almost gone!” He called out and saw the man wobble and fall, barely grabbing the rocks to stop himself from falling.

“I’m going as fast as I can, kid.” The brown-haired man grumbled in response and shuffled closer, reaching out his hand towards him.

Varian quickly caught the object and tilted his head as he noticed it being a ring. An engagement ring, to be exact. He decided to not dwell on it, turning to his work.

Eugene gasped sharply behind him.

“Kid, what is that?!” He asked and Varian sent him a confused look.

“It’s Demanitus scroll, Eugene.” He replied, not sure why the man sounded so terrified.

“No, that’s- I know it’s Demanitus scroll!” Eugene’s eyes wasn’t on the parchment, but rather on... “What do you have around your neck?”

Varian froze for a moment, before one of his hands slowly rose to reach the questionable part. His eyes widened in realisation as fingers brushed the rough surface. Oh, right. The collar.

“That’s...” He trailed off, looking away. What should he say? That Cassandra put a collar of black rocks around his neck? That she tried to strangle him with it?

“Did Cassandra do that?” Eugene asked and Varian looked away, opting to focus on the incantation. “No, of course she did. No way you did it yourself. It’s made of black rocks, for Sun’s sake!”

“It’s working!” Varian shouted happily, for a moment forgetting about the collar around his neck.

He cried out, when the scroll caught fire. He wasn’t paying attention and the concentrated beam of light wavered too long in one spot. He scrambled with one hand for the paper and pencil, writing down the incantation as fast as he could.

He let go of the last piece of scroll, sighing in relief at the piece of paper with written down final incantation.

“I got it!” He gave the man a toothy grin and Eugene smiled in response, before his eyes fell on the boy’s neck again. The former thief frowned, smile wavering.

“What happened?” He asked, eyes full of worry. Varian looked away.

“I... I tried to talk to her but...” He reached to tug on his gloves, the collar suddenly seeming to suffocate him. “I think I only made her more mad.”

“Kid, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Eugene reached through the bars and put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. He seemed to want to ask something else, but then the cage shook and moved back towards the tower.

“Eugene?” Varian’s eyes were filled with fear. Eugene grit his teeth and reached out his hand for the boy to hold onto.

“Stay close, kid.” He said, before they were pulled inside.

Only moments later Eugene was pulled away, encased in black rocks, Cassandra squeezing the man mercilessly. Varian looked around and noticed Rapunzel pinned to the wall just few feet to his left. His eyes fell on the note he still held in one hand.

“Rapunzel!” He cried, reaching out the hand with the note through the bars. “I have the final incantation! You have to-!”

His words were lost as the collar suddenly tightened, pushing on his windpipe. The note fell from his hold as he struggled to breathe.

“Varian!” Rapunzel and Eugene both cried out, as the boy lay on the floor, wheezing and clawing at the collar.

“Rapu... the inca... plea...” He mumbled, not able to get out a coherent sentence as he got less and less oxygen.

“Cass! Stop!” Rapunzel cried, eyes watering.

His vision was blurring, sounds muted. He felt like he was being held underwater. Unable to breathe. Unable to hear. Unable to see.

So this is how I’m going to die?, he thought as it was harder to keep his eyes open. He thought he saw something grabbing the note from the floor, but he might have as well been hallucinating.

And then, the hold on his neck loosened. He gasped, taking deep breaths, filling his lungs with oxygen.

“Kid! Varian!” He heard Eugene call out to him with terror in his voice. “Varian!”

“I... I’m okay...” He somehow managed  to reply, voice raspy. He rolled to his back, staring at the ceiling, breathing heavily. “I’m okay.”

Eugene opened his mouth to say something more but a sudden explosion startled them both. Varian looked up to see Rapunzel and Cassandra stuck in a duel, two coloured energies clashing with each other.

The wind picked up and suddenly there was no cage holding the boy in place. He started to move towards the ridge and his eyes widened in terror. He didn’t even notice the collar crumbling away, too focused on his body sliding away.

“Eugene!” He called out frightfully. Then, before any of them managed to react, he was pushed away and fell.

~~~~~~

They were back at the bottom of the tower. The moment Eugene and Rapunzel walked through the door, they ran up to the alchemist and locked him in a tender embrace. It took only a moment, but when he was wrapped in a tight hug, the dam finally broke.

The kidnapping, the drugging, the collar and being strangled, being locked up in a cage hundreds of metres above the ground, strangled again and finally falling to his death. It all came back at once, and he teared down, desperately holding to the two adults.

He didn’t know how long was he crying. At some point Lance, Catalina and Kiera joined in, all lovingly embracing him, as he cried his eyes out. When he finally had no more tears, he slowly released the two adults he took hold to.

“Better now?” Rapunzel asked softly and he nodded, wiping the last of the tears from his eyes.

“Sorry...” He mumbled, eyes downcast. His hand subconsciously went to his neck, startling when he actually managed to touch it.

“Erm, you might consider wearing higher collars for some time.” Eugene said as he eyed the boy’s neck. “Or a scarf.”

“That bad?” Varian asked and Eugene stared for a moment before nodding. The boy sighed tiredly.

“Dad’s going to have a fit.” He said and chuckled nervously.

“Want me to come with?” The man offered and Varian smiled in response.

“Nah, I’ll figure something out.” He replied. “Not the worst of the injuries I had over time.”

“Kid, that’s not reassuring.” Eugene shot him a concerned gaze and the boy laughed.

------

So... I didn’t really include the handcuffs from the pic. I tried, I really did. But they didn’t make any sense to the idea I came up with. Hope it’s not that much of a trash. Not my best but... I hope you enjoyed it.

[hopewritcs]

captain america’s sweetheart

pairing: steve rogers x f!reader

word count: 3.8k

summary: directly follows a drabble i did a while ago. the reader was followed by a guy and wound up spending the night in a diner with captain america, whom she didn’t recognize--only to have been photographed and dubbed “captain america’s mystery sweetheart” the next morning.  thanks social media.  set post avengers, post tws, & pre ultron.  

previous part: here

notes: okay so like i sometimes reread my fics and get ideas based on them. is that weird? maybe that’s weird.  but i got an idea for this because it wasn’t entirely finished and sure it was just a drabble, but i had muse for it and i sincerely hope y’all enjoy it!! this fic does switch POV once, which goes from you to third person.    

"You didn’t tell me you were dating Captain America!  Hell, I didn’t even know you knew him.  C’mon, I thought you told me everything.”  your coworker had not stopped talking about the incident since you’d arrived earlier.  She’d printed out the buzzfeed article and stuck it onto your computer so it had been the first thing you’d seen when you walked into your office.  And, unfortunately for you, it seemed like she didn’t have any work to do herself and she could stay in your office that morning bugging you about this.  

You’d already spent the better part of your morning, in between brushing your hair, your teeth, and getting dressed texting the family members and friends, and even one old classmate from high school ( how he’d gotten your phone number you still didn’t know ), that you weren’t the infamous Captain America’s Mystery Sweetheart.  That it wasn’t you in the picture.  

Except, it was.  Even if the photograph was grainy and too zoomed in on the kiss to even really tell who was being kissed--though, without your drunken haze it was obvious that it was the famed Avenger Captain America who you’d picked in the crowd.  

Of all the people in the whole city of New York you had to go and grab Steve freakin’ Rogers.  

Then again, of all people it could have been, an Avenger--a person who set his life ( both of them ) for protecting the innocent--was probably the best person to grab when you were being followed by some bar creep.  

Some people easily agreed when you denied.  Others weren’t ready to let go.  Including your own mother, who’d called you instead of continuing arguing with you over texts.  

Her slight scoff, the disbelief as she spoke, “Darling, I raised you.  I think I know my own daughter in a photograph.”  was still ringing in your ears.  You’d still denied it, but she’d left you with a simple, “Sure.  I’ll talk to you later darling.” that still left you thinking that it wasn’t a subject she would be dropping any time soon.  

You thought that going to work would get you away from it all.  But alas, you were wrong.  Cecilia, your coworker--your best friend at work--, was still sitting perched on your desk like she owned the place had sworn up and down that she remembered the sweater you had been wearing when you left the bar that night, and that it was the exact sweater that the person in the photo with Captain America was wearing.  You couldn’t tell how she picked up that detail, but it certainly was you--you just didn’t want to let her know that.  

“For the millionth time, Cecilia, it’s not me.  I mean, the article is vague anyway.  It could be anybody.”  You said, gesturing vaguely towards the garbage can where the crumpled up print out sat.  You’d tossed it the moment you’d gotten behind your desk, only leaving Cecilia in a bigger fit of laughter.  “I’m sure millions of girls in the city have that exact sweater.  You can’t even be sure what it is, or who it is, the photo isn’t high res or anything.”  

You didn’t look up from what you were doing, typing away as you spoke to your friend.  There was a certain sigh in your tone as you repeated the same things you’d said to her for the past twenty minutes.  All you wanted was some nice peace and quiet--and to get alone so you could text Mr. “Steve” and ask him what the hell was going on.  

“But--”

“Plus, if I was dating Captain America, don’t you think I’d have told you by now?”  You asked, tilting your head up from behind the computer to finally look at her.  She stared you down, like she wanted to argue with you again.  But you spoke up before she could get another word out.  “I’ve got to finish this up before the morning meeting, so as much as you’re enjoying interrogating me about my sweater and Captain America’s dreamy blues--could you leave so I can finish this report?”  

“Aha, you admit that they are dreamy.”  Cecilia giggled, hopping off your desk and clapping her hands giddily, as if that was the only answer she needed.  “Fine, go to work you party pooper, I’ll see you in half an hour at the meeting.  I’ll even bring you coffee.”  

“You always do.”  your head was ducked back down and focused on your computer.  You only lifted it back up when you heard the door close and then you went to grab your purse, sending a quick text to the number saved in your phone for Steve.  

Can you explain this?  Along with a screenshot of the article claiming you to be Captain America’s Mystery Sweetheart.  

Steve hadn’t gotten back to the tower until late.  He’d only stepped out for a what was supposed to be a quick walk.  He was still adjusting to being in this new century, all the technology was a lot to take in.  He’d been on his way back when some stranger grabbed him, which he first thought to be a fan wanting a picture--that had happened a couple of times on his walks, and he still wasn’t used to that, even if he’d gotten a taste of it during the war.  

But this person had been so panicked he could feel the anxiety rushing off of them.  He hadn’t even gotten the chance to get any questions out before she explained quickly what was happening and then kissed him.  He was still shocked about the whole thing, but still Steve played along and pretended to be a couple as best he could.  His eyes did dart around to see if he could notice anything out of the ordinary, and watched the crowd carefully while talking with the woman.  

Then they went to an all night diner, and he realized that she didn’t know who he was.  Maybe it was because she was so anxious--but the woman hadn’t recognized him.  Then, as they spoke, he realized that for this one night he could be Steve from Brooklyn without Captain America hanging over his head.  The pair talked a little bit about everything while they got their coffee.  He learned what she did for a living, what she’d wanted to do, a little bit about her family too.  He talked in brief about what he did, careful to not be too specific about it, and how he’d always loved art.  

By the time they left the diner it was nearly 2 in the morning.  The woman had asked for Steve’s phone, and she put her number in it before sending herself a message.  She even attempted to pay for the coffees, but Steve said it was on him.  

“Well then I’ve got to pay you back some other time, for all your help tonight.”  

She insisted she was fine to walk back to her own apartment, but Steve still watched her walk as far as he could before he lost sight of her and then turned back and headed to the Avengers Tower.  

He fell asleep after getting her thank you text, which he replied with it’s what anyone would do, and wondered if he would ever see her again.  

Steve woke up the next morning and immediately went down to the gym--he was used to waking up early and not getting much sleep.  So he didn’t change his routine up.  Though he did keep his phone on him this morning as he was going for a run on the indoor track.  

“Hey Cap, you didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend!”  

Sam’s voice shocked Steve and he tripped over his own two feet before catching himself and turning around to look at his friend.  “Excuse me?”  Steve questioned, running a hand along his face as he walked over to Sam.  

Sam held out his phone for Steve, which was open to the Captain America’s Mystery Sweetheart article.  

“So, how long have you been seeing her?  Who is she?  One of the agents Romanoff was telling you about?”  

Steve shook his head, rereading the mini blurb.  At least her name wasn’t printed--they clearly didn’t know who she was.  

Oh.  Oh.  

Now she certainly knows that he’s Captain America.  

“You alright man?”  Sam slipped his phone out of Steve’s hands and looked up at his friend, crossing his arms.  

“I’m fine.  This is gonna sound crazy, but I only met her last night.”  Steve explained, shaking his head.  

“What, and she just threw herself at you because oh my God it’s Captain America!” Sam asked, using an imitation high pitched voice for that exclamation.  

“She--no.  She just needed some help.”  

“By kissing you?  Man, why does no one ever need my help like that.”  

Steve knew Sam was going to continue, but his phone began beeping.  Steve looked down and noticed several messaged from the woman and his heart dropped into his stomach.  

“Someone’s in trouble.”  Sam said, then the phone started to ring.  “I’m gonna leave you to deal with that.  Later, Cap.”  

Steve took a seat down on the bench and answered the phone call.  

You’d sent several texts to Steve but you hadn’t gotten any response.  In fact, all through the morning meeting you’d been looking at your phone and waiting for a response, but you didn’t see anything which led to you texting him again and again.  You may have texted him just a few too many times.  Also forgetting to pay attention to what was happening in the meeting.  You’d have to talk to Cecilia soon, see if there was anything you needed to do.  

Finally, when you were back in your office you closed your door and decided to call him.  Surely Captain America was awake by now, right?  

“Hello.”  he answered.  

“Captain America.”  you said.  “You’re Captain America!”  you were whispering even though you were alone, but still scolding him.  

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, you were anxious and worried about someone following you.  I didn’t think I needed to add to that by announcing that I was Captain America.”  Steve was calm when he said it and, if you were being honest, it did make sense.  You could see why he wouldn’t want to add to the anxiety and worry you’d been feeling.  

“Okay, sure.  But why didn’t you just tell me when we were having coffee then?”  

“I just,” Steve paused and you waited for an answer.  You listened to the movement on his side of the phone as he thought about what he wanted.  “I wanted to be Steve, for once.  Not Captain America.  It’s been a while since anybody saw me as just a person, and not the person.  Does that make sense?”   

You wanted to be angry at him.  Furious even, and you had been when you first called.  You were mad that he’d kept that from you--it was a huge thing to not tell somebody.  

But, then you heard his explanation.  You heard his voice and what he was saying--what he wanted.  What Steve wanted.  You understood why, though you couldn’t imagine being in that position.  The thought of everyone in the world--the universe even--expecting something from you at any given point.  It wasn’t something you’d ever personally had to deal with.  

“I guess that’s fair.”  You said, shrugging your shoulders as you fidgeted with the pen in your hand and looked to your computer screen.  “I just...I feel like...”  you trailed off.  What did it feel like?  

Like you were lied to?  It’s not like you really asked him more about what he did for a living.  

Like you should have known?  Maybe.  His face was plastered all over posters and news footage.  You remembered when he appeared from the ice, lost in Times Square.  A man out of time.  You could recall the headlines, everyone posting things about him.  

“Like I lied to you?”  he supplied after your pause went on too long.  

“Maybe.  No.  No, it’s not that.  It’s not like I asked and you said you weren’t.  You didn’t lie, not exactly.  I just, I don’t know, I’m just feeling a bit stupid right now.  Like, you’re Captain America.  I’ve read about you in textbooks in school.  Seen your picture all over the place and watched you on the news too.  But I didn’t recognize you at all.”  You chuckled, rolling your eyes at the comment.  

“I don’t think that makes you stupid.  You were just worried about that guy who was following you.”  Steve assured you, and you nodded your head at that comment.  He was right, you’d been more focused on getting away from him than who you’d grabbed a hold of.  Steve cleared his throat before asking, “Have you seen him again?”  

“No, I didn’t know him.  We just met him at the bar, I haven’t seen him since.”  You replied.  It was a relief too, that it was just a random stranger.  In a city of so many millions of people, it wasn’t likely you’d run into him again.  

“Good.”

“Thank you.  Seriously, thank you.  For going along with it last night.  I just, I can’t imagine if I’d found someone who would have said no and left me there.”  

“I don’t think many people would have said no.”  

“Oh,” you scoffed, shaking your head.  “You’d be surprised, Captain.  The world is very different than when you were growing up.”  

“I don’t think it’s that different.  If people see a dame in need--or anyone in need--I think they’d step up.”  

“I envy your optimism.”  

“Don’t you think people are good?”

“Oh, Captain, I think that is a conversation for another time.” tapping your hand against your desk, your eyes glanced toward the time in the corner of the desktop computer.  Then you added, “I should probably get back to work.”  

“Hey, Y/N, I’m sorry.”  

“For what?”

“The article.  The whole mystery sweetheart thing.”  

“Why are you sorry for that?  You didn’t sell the picture or anything.  Plus, you can barely see my face.  Not that it’s stopped people from asking if it’s me.”  you chuckled again, shaking your head as you spoke.  “I just kept saying the picture is too grainy to even tell who it is.  Could be anybody, right?  It’s not a problem, Steve.”  

“Are you sure?”  

“Positive.”  He was silent for a while and you almost thought he’d hung up without saying goodbye, but by pulling your phone away from your ear you could tell he was still there.  

“Can I see you again?  Maybe, we could grab another cup of coffee?”  

“I mean, I do owe you for saving me.  So this time I’ll pay?  Come on, you can’t say no.”  

“Alright.  When do you get off of work today?”  

“I leave at four thirty.  I can meet you at five thirty?  Gives me enough time to head to my place and change.  If that works for you, obviously.”  

“That works for me.” he quickly replied before adding softly, “Unless something happens.”  

“Like somebody tries to take over the world?”  you laughed, jokingly.  Though after a moment, you realized that was probably exactly what he meant.  You cleared your throat and spoke again, “Keep in touch.  In case you need to go off and save the world.  I hope I don’t get stood up by Captain America.”  You joked once more, a smile on your face while you spoke.  

“If anything comes up, I’ll let you know.  Promise.”  

“Okay, good.”  you replied, and you didn’t doubt him.  “I really should get back to work now, Steve.”  

“I’ll see you later, Y/N.”  

After hanging up, you went back to focusing on your work for the day.  However, you were still struck with the fact that your savior from the night before was none other than Captain America--and that you just made a coffee date with him.  

You got a text around lunchtime with the address of the coffee shop you would meet Steve at later.  You checked how far it was from your apartment, and it seemed like it would be an easy enough subway ride to get there.  You’d gone with a couple of friends to see the Avengers Tower after the Battle of New York, and the building was renovated, but you’d never really been overly interested in the Avengers as a world saving team.  

Saving the world was good.  Great, even, but at the end of the day, weren’t they still just people?  Well, except Thor who was a God.  You didn’t see the need to worship them or anything, but that was also how you’d seen celebrities.  People still wanted to be treated like people at the end of the day.  

Finally, you got to head out to the subway and go to meet Steve.  You were much more comfortable in your clothes than you would have been if you’d just gone right there after work.  You texted Steve to let him know you were on the way and you’d meet him there.  

You stayed listening to music as you stood on the subway, getting off on the right stop and then heading up to the street level.  You got adjusted to which direction you needed to head in and then followed the map you’d pulled up on your phone.  

Seeing Steve waiting for you in the coffee house window made you smile.  Sure, you knew you were going to see him.  But actually seeing him again, and knowing who he was was a different experience.  He had a baseball cap on, and his head was ducked down as he sipped from a mug but now that you knew who you were looking for you clearly recognized him--attempted disguise or not.  

“Hey.”  you grinned, walking into the shop and taking a seat across from him.  

“Hey.  I ordered what you got yesterday, I hope that’s alright.”  Steve looked up at you and smiled widely, gesturing to the second mug of coffee on the table.  

“It’s perfect, thank you.”  you replied, taking the mug and taking a sip of the drink before looking up at him again.  “So no world saving duties to take care of today?”  

“Just training some of the agents.  How was work?”  

“Lots of paperwork today.  Though one of my coworkers, my friend Cecilia--she printed out the article of us and taped it to my computer.”  Now you could laugh about it, which is what you were doing.  Steve blushed, hiding his face and still looking a bit embarrassed about that fact.  You grinned and looked at him.  “Relax.  I already said it’s fine.  It’s not like you could really see me in the picture anyway.  Everybody believed me when I said it wasn’t me.”  you explained.  

“Really?  I guess you couldn’t really see you.  But Sam came down to the gym this morning and showed me the picture.”  Steve said, taking another sip of his drink and shrugging his shoulders.  

“I guess Captain America’s hard to miss.  Though, you’re not exactly a master of disguise with that cap on either.”  you teased him, tapping the hat as you spoke.  

“So I’ve been told before.  Apparently I stick out in a crowd.  It wasn’t always like that, I was this skinny, sick kid and I don’t think anybody but Buck coulda picked me out of a crowd back then.”  He chuckled, nodding his head as he spoke, looking like a memory was passing through his thoughts.  

“If it makes you feel better, my mom called me and even after denying it was me she kept insisting it was because she knew me.  So, I think everybody’s got at least one person who, no matter what, could pick them out of a crowd if they needed to.”  

“Did you tell your mom the truth in the end?”  

“Oh, hell no.  She’d have had a million questions and I had no answers at that point.”  

You found that it was easy to talk to Steve about anything, and the time you spent seemed to fly on by.  It had already been dark by the time you’d arrived at the shop, but looking up at one point you realized it was nearly eight at night.  Your mugs of coffee finished on the table between you as you two had continued to talk.  

Now that you knew who he was, the two of you learned more about each other.  Steve obviously couldn’t tell you all about missions he’d been on while in the Avengers, but he did talk about the team.  He explained how living in the tower was still an adjustment, even though he’d been in and out of it for some time.  He couldn’t get used to the AI in the walls talking back to him--you could only imagine how weird it must be for someone from a completely different time to come back in the world with all this technology.  

Eventually, the pair of you left the coffee shop and walked for a bit.  It was clear that, while it was still getting later, neither of you really wanted to leave.  The conversation was good, and so was the company.  You split a soft pretzel from a vendor as you continued walking around the city streets, though you were careful to not walk too far from where you started so that you could easily head back when you both parted ways.  

It was later still when the two of you said your goodbyes, Steve even walked you to the subway station and bid you goodnight with a kiss on your cheek.  You promised to text him when you got back to your place and that you’d see him again soon.  

When you woke up the next morning, you pulled up a message from your mother with a link to a new article and the message “I knew it!” beneath.  You pulled up the link and saw the article, this time with a picture of you and Steve at the subway station saying goodnight.  There was even a few quotes from people who had seen you two around that night.  This time the article was titled, And Who is Captain America’s Sweetheart? 

You took a screenshot of the article and the picture of the two of you, sending it to Steve as you started to get ready for the day.  He called you right away, which surprised you but you still answered.  

“Guess the cat’s out of the bag, huh?”  you answered the phone, laughing lightly as you put the phone on speaker so you could continue to get ready.  

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”  Steve sighed.  

“If you say that one more time Steve, I swear.  It’s fine, you’re Captain America.  People are really interested in what you do in your free time.”  

“That doesn’t mean they should post your picture everywhere.”  

“Well, I’m sure all the girls and guys out there who fancy themselves in love with you will be mad, but I’m not.  I figured this would happen again.  Maybe not so soon with my face right there, but still.” 

“So you still want to see me?”  

“Yeah, Steve, I still wanna see you.”   

[cluz1babe]

*** Strong Tongue and Slender Fingers *** EPISODE 2 CHAPTER 1

For the most part, Y/N and the guys had settled since they got on the road. The goblin was dead, but putting distance between themselves and the town they were in helped ease the tension. It had been a few weeks since then and, considering nothing major had happened, they decided it was time to bring you to the bunker.

Sam hadn’t heard anything from Patience and he knew she would have contacted him if she had any more visions.

Dean and Y/N lightly flirted at a pit stop on the way home, but it didn’t go past glances, a smile, and a suggestive wink and nod toward a large tree that was only five feet away from the car. It ended with Y/N rolling her eyes and settling into her seat again.

Castiel was finding the drive fairly pleasant. He told the Winchesters that, after speaking to his contact, he was more confident that she wasn’t a threat. When Dean pressed for an idea of who his contact was, he said he thought it best if they didn’t know for now. It made Dean suspicious, but he trusted Cas’s judgement.

Y/N’a ride was a little different. Her mind kept racing and she frequently ran her tongue over her teeth, hoping she’d be able to tell if they started growing again. This had only happened once before and it wasn’t a pleasant memory.

When they drew close to the bunker, Y/N’s eyes lit up at the surroundings. What the others couldn’t see, were all of the creatures not on their plane. Not all of them were friendly, more indifferent. She had a suspicion they were drawn there for some reason. On purpose or by accident?

“Here we are,” Dean said. “Home.”

Y/N stepped out of the Impala, into the rain, and stared at the exterior of the bunker. “This is where you live? How?”

“Don’t knock it,” Dean turned to face her. “By the way, there are two other hunters who live with us and several who come and go. We haven’t told them about you.”

“You invited me to live with you and failed to mention it to your inmates? That’s not exactly the first impression I’m comfortable with.”

“You wanna sleep outside? In the rain?”

“I’m more used to it than a roof, at this point,” she stated. Castiel almost twinged at her comment, remembering when he didn’t have a roof over his head, and a definite need for friends at the time.

Dean playfully pushed her forward, “Get in there.”

She smiled at him and took her bag, which was being held by Castiel. “Thank you.” He nodded to her.

Y/N walked into the bunker, looking around, curiously. “Nice. I take back what I said.”

“Don’t thank us yet,” Dean pushed past her. “Your room isn’t exactly 5-star accommodation.”

Opening the door to Room 32, Dean stepped in. Y/N followed him and studied the walls for a moment. “Interesting paint job.”

“Yeah. A friend of ours did this. He died soon after that, we just haven’t painted over it.”

“Oh...” Y/N didn’t really know how to respond. “Do you know what it is?”

“You can’t read it?”

“Other than English and Spanish, I can’t read the languages I speak. I mean, I can learn, but it’s not easy to teach me anything.” She shrugged. “Maybe it’s the trade-off for whatever superinstincts I have.”

“This is Enochian.”

Y/N looked at it closer. “His language?”

“Well, angels’.” Dean walked to the doorway as she sat her bag down. “Maybe Cas can try to teach you.”

“I don't know about that. The last person who tried such a thing ended up on a bayonet. Of course, we were in a museum, which we broke into, but still… The Angel and I may not have seriously clashed since the first day, but teaching me something new is like trying to fit a large torus inside a small icosahedron.”

Dean stared at her.

“A torus is basically a donut,” she tried to explain while he looked at her. “And an icosahedron is one of those die used in Dungeons and Dragons,” she stopped suddenly.

He smiled at her, a slight huff giving away his amusement.

“Probably could have just said ‘cube’ and it would have been easier.”

“You just remind me of someone.”

“Someone who’s still alive, hope.”

“Yes and no,” Dean smiled back at her as he left the room. “It’s almost dinner time, so I’ll let you get settled and finish showing you around later.”

“And maybe you’ll show me your room?” She joked, but he turned to wink at her before walking off.

Klee flung her arms out to her sides and reclined on the bed.

Some time later, Sam walked into the kitchen to find Dean cooking. “Hey, have you heard from any of them?”

“Brynn’s still in Holyoke. Looking for lizard people.” He turned to his brother. “Again.”

Sam scoffed, “We have to talk to her about that.”

Castiel walked into the kitchen, sitting down at the table.

Dean continued, “She’s gonna do whatever she wants. No matter how stupid the hunt sounds.”

“She’s looking for Lemuria,” Castiel interjected. “She won’t find it.”

“Atticus is on his way back from Questa. Something called La Mala Hora.”

Sam raised his head, “He take care of it?”

“Of course.”

“You tell them yet?”

“Yes.”

“Where is she?”

Dean took the pan off the stove. “Left her alone in Gabirel’s old room for a while. I figured she could use it.”

“Gabriel’s?” Same questioned, but before he could continue, Castiel asked the question he was already thinking.

“She saw it?”

“Yeah, but she can’t read it.” Dean finished plating the food, looking at Cas. “I told her you should teach her.”

Castiel responded with a sigh and rolling eyes. “I wish you hadn’t done that.”

“Why? You've been getting along.”

“We almost had a blowout over a lock.”

“An unpickable lock.”

“Her temper is... unpredictable, at best. I find her tiring in ways I didn’t know were possible.”

Dean nervously scratched his neck. “She did mention an incident with the last person who tried to teach her anything.”

“Someone she killed?”

“She didn’t mention whether they lived or died.”

Sam grabbed a beer from the fridge. “Cas, Dean’s right. She could be here for a while and maybe this is a good thing.” He removed the cap and took a drink.

“Especially if I’m gonna date her.”

Dean’s statement astonished both men, who gawked at him.

“Dean,” Sam started. “You haven’t seriously talked about dating someone since Lisa.”

Dean scowled and sat down the plate he was about to eat from. It took him a while to realize how long it had been. Thirteen years. Suddenly, thoughts about Lisa and Ben came flooding into his mind. Things he’d never wanted to think about. Then, the idea that he was so interested in this new woman after so long, scared him. He sat down suddenly. “Well, I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Dean,” Castiel stood up. “I had no idea this was so important to you.”

“More like, I literally hadn’t thought about it, until now.”

“In any case… I will… I’ll attempt to do all I can to make her feel more welcome in my presence.”

Castiel quickly left Dean and Sam in the kitchen.

“Is this a bad time to mention Claire?”

The color left Dean’s face. “Shut up.”

Cas was on his way to room 32, walking down the hall when he heard something small fall to the floor. He didn’t want to intrude on Y/N, but he didn’t want to let Dean down, either. He knocked on the door and waited, but he couldn’t hear anything else. “Y/N?” There was no reply, but he heard screeching sound, as if a chair had been pushed across the floor. “Y/N? Are you alright?”

He waited again, still no reply. He carefully opened the door and peeked in, but he didn’t see anyone. There wasn’t a comforter on the bed, which seemed strange, but not bad. He walked further into the room before he saw the lump of a body lying on the floor.

Walking to her quickly, he crouched over her. She was only sleeping. Taking notice of how she had purposely pulled the blanket off and covered herself, he frowned. She had placed some of her things next to her. He must have heard the cup next to her hand get knocked over, and the dragging sound must have been caused by her knee on the chair, which was too close to her. He noticed her shoulder protruding from the blanket. When she turned and lifted her arm above her head, he discovered she was naked. Strange.

“Cas?” He heard Sam from the doorway.

Castiel’s eyes widened. He swiftly pulled the blanket to cover Y/N.

“I’m over here.”

Sam came into the room to see what was going on. “What are you doing?”

Castiel held his hand up to stop him and made his way to the door, urging Sam to follow.

Notes:

All the comments, suggestions, and gentle constructive criticism is welcome! I also welcome co-writers, co-creators, art producers, betas, etc.! I like working with people as long as equal credit is given.

EXTRAS:

AO3

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*** Strong Tongue and Slender Fingers *** (Here and AO3)

KLEE (Original Version) (Currently only on AO3)

Alt KLEE Smut (Currently only on AO3)

*** Alt Strong Tongue and Slender Fingers Smut Scenes *** (Here and AO3)

[thran-duils]

Watch Me Burn (P.4)

Title: Watch Me Burn (Part Four) Summary: Fem!Reader x AU!Cas. Fem!Reader x AU!Sam. This fic was inspired by both parts of “Love the Way You Lie” by Eminem & Rihanna. Castiel and the reader are toxic for each other and keep falling back together until the reader moved away. It’s been years and now she is back home, waltzing back into Castiel’s life. She is determined to do better this time, to make them work, but outside forces as well as the scars the two have left on each other weave their way into their reconciliation. Will they be able to overcome the past and new threats to their sustainability? Words: 1,984 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Extreme angst, domestic violence, smut, unprotected sex, dom/sub dynamics, BDSM trust breaking, fluff, language, alcohol abuse, !!! eventual !!! happiness Author’s Note: Italics are the past!

Chap 3 || Chap 5 || Masterpost (mobile) || Fic masterpost

Sighing loudly, you pushed yourself away from the bathroom sink. Luckily, you had been able to sneak into the bathroom before anyone intercepted you when you walked into the office and were able to apply your makeup. You had woken up late and could not miss the incoming bus, otherwise you would have been late to your job. And you could also not afford to lose this job; it was a huge opportunity for you, especially without having a graduate degree.

Makeup tucked into your purse again, you left the bathroom ready to go to your desk now.

Turning the corner, to walk through the door into your office, you came to an abrupt stop seeing Sam, a junior partner of the company, standing there. He had been over your shoulder from the moment you had walked into the office months ago. He was not subtle about his advancements towards you and you had found ways to politely ignore them. It had not proven successful in deterring him yet though. You were on the fence about jumping into something so soon after moving here and especially with a coworker. He was handsome, yes, and had money. But there was something… off.

He blocked your way, his hand planted on the door and his arm barring you from going forward. You were forced to look up at him and he smiled down at you in response.

“So… how are you today, Y/N?”

You felt pressured to answer his question. “Tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Hmm, couldn’t tell by looking at you,” he told you. You felt blush coming to your cheeks. “You found your gym yet you were looking for?”

Small talk.

Nodding, you said, “Yes. On Guadalupe Street. I got the membership a couple weeks ago, but I haven’t managed to get there yet.” He raised his eyebrows expectantly and you explained, “I’ve been busy. The deadline is tomorrow for my project.”

“Ah, that does dig into your personal time. Hopefully you’ll be able to get some rest after that is done and submitted.”

You nodded again, smiling softly. Highly doubtful considering the rat race this place had set you in but you could hope.

Sam’s eyes fell to your dress. “Valentino?” He questioned.

You forced a smile, “No. No. Can’t quite afford that.”

Sam reached out, touching the fabric at your elbow and traced his fingers down. Your breath hitched, uncomfortable that he felt the permission to cross that boundary but… simultaneously, your eyes locking with his made your stomach flutter. His eyes were alight, taking you in and when they met yours, his lips curled up into a small, satisfied smirk.

“Well, wherever you got it, it looks the part.”

You would not dare tell him you picked it up at Goodwill.

“You seem to have an eye for the fashionable and expensive…” He leaned in closer. “If you play your cards right, you may always be able to afford both.”

His gaze was piercing, his lips parted slightly, watching you to see how you reacted. It was a game to him, seeing what the key would be to getting you open up to him. You did not want to insinuate that the door would be closed forever, leave a sliver of hope.

With a little laugh, you said, “Let’s hope I am that smart.”

<>  <> <>

“It is quite a different atmosphere.”

Charlie reached across the table to grab the salt back from you. Mouth full, she asked, “What was it like there in Austin, then?”

Exhaling, you told her, “Stifling.” You picked up your fork and took a bite of your lunch.

Charlie snorted, “The heat or the misogyny?” You shot her a look of surprise and she outright laughed this time. “Oh, Y/N. I’ve visited the office. I know how the men are down there. And trust me, they all think they have the right dick to ‘turn me straight’.”

“O-oh,” you stammered, balking at her comment.

She laughed again, waving you off. “Sorry, I’m too candid sometimes with my feelings. But that has been my experience down there. And I would be damned if they ever asked me to transfer. I much prefer it here and I am not ashamed to say because Tara is my boss, and she doesn’t feel the need to try to hit on me. Granted, she is married to a wonderful woman so that might have something to do with it, but I digress.”

“No. No, I know what you mean…” you trailed off, staring down at your plate. You had dreamt about Sam again last night and had woken up feeling sick. You simply told Castiel you had a nightmare and he had rubbed your back before getting up to make you some eggs while you showered.

“That why you left? If you don’t mind me asking.”

You slipped back, memory flashing.

The night was warm, humid. You had dressed accordingly, wearing a maxi, wrap dress.

You were sitting next to Sam, a few drinks in. You had inched closer and closer to him as the night wore on. He was a gravity – sinking into him was a weight, not an anchor. But it was still luring you in, coaxing you to descend. You had always been attracted to the depths and god forbid you would go against your nature now.

Sam leaned in, his mouth close to your ear, sending shivers through you. “Mind getting us a refill? I feel like these shenanigans are going to go on for a while.”

He was, of course, referring to the ultimately boring stories being shared between other coworkers.

You turned your head, your face unbearably close to his. Your lips were merely inches apart. His cologne encompassed you, forcing you to focus all more clearly on his hazel eyes boring into you, waiting expectantly for you to respond.

“Of course,” you whispered.

His lips curled into a smile. “That’s a team player.”

Refraining from letting out a laugh, trying to let go of the sexual tension that had just coiled itself tightly deep inside, you finished what was left of your drink. Standing up, you meant to turn around to hold your hand out for his glass but were stilled. You felt a hand at your ass, gripping ever so slightly and ghosting the rest of the way. You turned back now, looking back down at Sam still sitting there.

He merely returned your pointed look with a wink and a sultry smile as he brought the glass to his mouth, finishing it in one gulp. He reached up, holding it to you, to fetch him another drink.

“Y/N?”

You snapped back to reality.

Charlie was looking at you expectantly and you quickly remembered she had asked you a question.

“Oh, right. Yes. Um, partially? I also wanted to be home.”

“With your man?” She teased, taking another bite of her burrito.

“That wasn’t a set-in stone thing.”

“But it seems to have worked out.”

“It has so far…”

“Anything you want to talk about? You seemed lost when I asked you about the shit there.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… me talking about the rampant sexism and you agreeing but then dodging the question. And floating off into space for a couple moments, lost to your thoughts, like I said.”

“Oh… well… you know…”

Charlie shrugged, “I mean, I do. But I also know from a different perspective. They knew they were not going to realistically bed me. They could imagine it and dream for it – I am quite dreamy – but it was not going to happen. But you… you, Y/N. You were attainable. I can’t imagine the difference in treatment.”

“It wasn’t anything I haven’t dealt with before. It was tiresome at times but I got through it.” You cleared your throat and asked, changing the subject, “Would you like to come to the bar? Hang out with us?”

Slapping her hand on the table, Charlie exclaimed dramatically, “I have been dying for you to ask, Y/N.” You laughed at her theatrics. “You don’t know how hard it is to make friends in this city. Especially being a transplant. Yes. Of course, I will.”

<> <> <>

“He’s cute!” Charlie told you over the game blaring over the loudspeakers in the bar.

She had gotten more and more outspoken about how much she adored you and Castiel together the more she drank. Not that you minded really, you welcomed the validation. Proving you had made one right choice so far in your life despite all the missteps you and Castiel had had before.

“I thought you didn’t like men,” you teased.

She gave you a light shove and took another sip of her drink. “Oh, come off it. You know I can still appreciate human beauty. Plus, he looks like a rock star. And that’s got to be fun to be riding.”

“Oh, seriously?” you gasped, shooting her an incredulous look.

“He can’t keep his eyes off of you.”

“That’s nothing new.”

“Full of ourselves, are we?”

“Always.”

Her eyes traveled around the bar, taking in the décor. Castiel had an eclectic taste but that is what made his bar his bar. You had helped him pick out a lot of the wall art and it had warmed you when you had come back that he had not taken them down out of spite or mourning.

“He’s owned this place for a while then?”

“Yeah. Before we even met.”

“You mean, you willingly gave this place up? I mean it, Y/N. You got this bar and then an apartment above. You can get drunk as you want and then escape to your bed so close. Plus, you’ve got him.”

Castiel smiled at you from across the bar, giving you a little wave that you returned. Your attention fell to the hallway where the locked door was leading up to the stairs to his place. Yes, you could escape up there whenever you wanted to, imbibe as much as you wanted without worrying about getting home.

Or sneak back down here to indulge…

“What do you mean you don’t want me to go back downstairs?” Castiel’s voice echoed, scornfully.

You reached out, grabbing his arm, “Cas, don’t. You’ll have to replace the alcohol!”

Castiel yanked his arm away and argued, “It’s just going to be one drink!”

“That’ll turn into five!”

“Stop being such a fucking buzzkill, Y/N.”

“You would stop me too. Come on, don’t be a fucking idiot, Cas.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Castiel snapped, shoving you away from him and turning to go back towards the bedroom.

You sucked your teeth, pissed off he had laid hands on you, yet again. But, if it stopped him from going to indulge more on his own stock downstairs… and god knows he had stopped you from doing the same countless times too.

“You love him.” It was a statement, not a question and it drew you from the past. Charlie was smirking at you knowingly, a bright light in her eyes. She nodded when she saw your tight smile and no rebuttal to her point. “You do. Or otherwise you would not have risked coming back here, without any concrete plans.”

Swallowing sharply, you chanced looking up over at the bar again without trying to look desperate for his attention, watching Castiel interact with the customers. His smile was wide, and you wished you could kiss the corners of his mouth, slowly coming to envelope him to you.

“Yes,” you breathed, knowing that Charlie would catch it. She was listening intently. “Yes, I do.”

“Then I for one, am happy for you,” she declared. “And I’m glad you came back up here too. Come, raise your glass.” You amused her, and she held up hers in return, beaming. “Cheers!”

You smiled in return, clinking yours to hers. “Cheers.”

~~~

CASTIEL FOREVER TAGS: @willowing-love @perseusandmedusa @greenappleeyes @afanofmanystuffs @earthtokace @shikaros-blog @marisayouass @splendidcas

[wisepuma23]

The Butterfly Shelter Chapter 4

Summary: Logan brings Virgil for a doctor's appointment and receives more insight than he asked for from the odd Dr. Picani. Reeling from the visit, he gets a phone call with some troubling news. Just wonderful! Logan is brought back down to Earth from Cloud Nine of paternal fatherhood, and must now confront his new reality with a son in his life.

Warnings: Mild Angst

Pairings: Slowburn Logicality, Parental Analogical, Parental Royality

Word count: 5,634

Notes: Puma: God this chapter is finally out!! I swear the universe was working against me. But woo!! It's here! Huge thanks to Tashi @fangirltothefullest for her AMAZING art and my betas, @sher-soc-the-famder and @my-happy-little-bean for being super patient!! So enjoy :D!

Tashi:  I'm so happy it's here! We all worked s hard for this chapter!

Previous Chapter

Read on AO3

Logan stared at a stuffed bison with six legs instead of four. How inaccurate and strange. Most likely a new addition to Dr. Picani’s office. Logan bounced Virgil on his lap, his son gurgling. Probably hungry. He pictured the supermarket on the way home. The ever stinging smell of cleaning and sticky floors made him long for an alternative option.

You’re almost out of diapers a voice nagged him. And formula, no matter how much Virgil scrunched up his face at it. Aside from it being adorable, Virgil would get no coddling from him. Logan has read enough books on infant dietary needs of course. He also paid close attention for signs when Virgil was ready to try something new.

“Logan?”

He snapped out of his thoughts, “Yes, yes. I apologize.”

“It’s all good!” Dr. Picani beamed, “Like your little waterbender there!”

Logan tilted his head, “What?”

“Oh, there’s a cool neat-o test based on hand shape online that tells you about what bender you are,” Dr. Picani brightened even more (as if that was humanly possible), “And I remember Virgil here got waterbender! You know? From Avatar: the Last Airbender??”

Logan pinched his nose, “I meant the test results, doctor.”

“Oh,” Dr. Picani’s smile softened, “The good news is that he didn’t catch anything. Aside from his ongoing colic, your son is incredibly lucky.”

His eyes crinkled around his laughter lines, “Roman was vaccinated, but even then, there was still that chance. Bacteria and all that. Kids just being kids like eating dirt or something.”

“And the bad news?”

“Babies can heal quickly even without Katara’s spirit water!” Dr. Picani said, but then bit his lips for a few moments, “But it looks like a permanent scar. So keep an eye on that arm. It might be sore and bruised for a while. And also watch his little fingers,” The doctor adjusted his glasses, his voice lost all goofiness from earlier, “I’m sure you would’ve noticed by now, but if either the arm or the fingers don’t work correctly, you might have some severed muscle tendons from the force of the bite.”

Logan’s bouncing came to a stop. His three-hour power nap left him in an instant. Exhaustion weighed down his bones. Barely a month into having a son and he already had a scar or worse, a disfigurement that would alter his lifestyle.

“I’m a terrible father,” Logan sagged, glancing down at his son’s eyes still so full with spirit, “Oh, what am I doing?”

Laughter rang through the colorful office, “Welcome to fatherhood, Mr. Crofters! I’ve worked here twenty years in the maternity ward and I’ve seen every sort of father under the sun. And you? You aren’t a terrible father,” Dr. Picani said as he reached over and patted his white-knuckled fist, “You treated his wound, then called me immediately, and all the while you comforted him. In my totally expert opinion; you’re off to a good start.”

“What kind?” Logan whispered, trying (and failing) to hide the desperation in his voice, “What kind of father am I, if not a terrible one?”

Dr. Picani looked at him, silent for the first time since he entered his office. Logan squirmed in his seat as the doctor deliberate over the question. No doubt judging him like anyone else. Virgil burbled a soft noise and tugged on his tie, insistent as ever. For the split second Logan looked away from Dr. Picani to look at his son, the knot in his chest loosened. He never knew he could house so much love in his heart for a small thing.

He looked back up at Dr. Picani and instead of the biting glare he expected, he wore a fond smile with wrinkles around the edges. Logan blinked. He didn’t know how to fit that expression in his world. His world full of square shoulders and horizontal grimaces. Virgil pulled on his tie again.

“You, Logan, are not a terrible father,” Dr. Picani said, warmth in every word that had Logan reeling, “I want to say you’re good, heck you’re doing much better than most new fathers I’ve met! But a good father takes time, come back in twenty years, and let me know how you’re doing then!” Dr. Picani’s smile softened as Logan let the wise words wash over him, ‘But you? You’re well on your way to being a good father.”

Logan didn’t feel particularly comforted by the words. Not with the large bruise that still lingered under Virgil’s onesie. A permanent reminder of his failure for years to come. Virgil didn’t seem too fazed, but Logan couldn’t understand. He knew logically resilience came with childhood and kids often bounced back. Yet, yet, he couldn’t help but think he might’ve done something to prevent it. Virgil wouldn’t have a bite at all if he hadn’t visited Patton so soon.

If anything, this was one scar Logan wouldn’t bounce from.

“What would you do?” Logan whispered, his chest tight with anxiety clawing up his insides as he looked at his son, “If you were in my place?”

“Hmmm, well,” Dr. Picani tapped his chin then beamed, “I’d be completely inconsolable, to be honest! And hold back my wife, because she’s so much like Garnet! But….” Dr. Picani clasped his hands over his desk, “I know accidents happen and it hurts now, but one day it’ll stop hurting. It’ll find its place in your life.”

“Actual advice?” Logan raised an eyebrow, “I would’ve expected more cartoon references.”

Dr. Picani grinned with a hint of mischief around the edges, “Silly! I wasn’t done. Rafiki said that sometimes the past can hurt, but you can choose to either run from it...or learn from it. And have you learned something, Mufasa?”

Logan blinked, “Well–”

“Actually it’s Simba,” Dr. Picani cut in, “That Rafiki said it to, but since you’re a dad, I said Mufasa. Here’s hoping you don’t meet a tragic end from unseen forces that actively plotted your demise and die protecting your son from people closer to you than you think.”

“What?”

“Never mind!” Dr. Picani laughed, “Just one of my cartoon rants, don’t worry about it. Or complain to my superior...please. She’ll give me that disappointed look again. So did you learn something from this whole debacle?”

“...Yes,” Logan said, “I believe I’ve learned some valuable insights after all.”

Logan looked at his son, running a hand over his pudgy little cheek. Virgil moved immediately to grab for his fingers and pull on them. His grip strong as ever, so by Dr. Picani’s assessment, he would be fine. No disfigurement anytime soon.

“Wonderful!” Dr. Picani picked up the stuffed bison and waved it in front of Virgil, “I know for a fact he loves you very much already! He isn’t the miserable little boy I knew him,” Virgil giggled as his fingers reached for the toy, “Golly, he’s so happy. Whatever you’re doing, it’s working.”

“I’m simply following the guide books.” Logan coughed.

Dr. Picani winked up at him, “You love him too, and there’s no book in the whole world that can teach you that. I don’t blame you. Virgil is the cutest water-bender I know!”

Logan’s face turned a hot pink as croaks fell out. Dr. Picani laughed as Virgil grabbed the hairs of the bison, the leg too fat for him to grasp, and swung it up and down as he giggled. Logan didn’t disagree with Dr. Picani’s statement. He loved his son. And no one could teach the warm encompassing feeling in his chest whenever he looked at him. Virgil Crofters, his family.

That very love was what contributed to his worries, Virgil deserved a good father. Someone to watch over him and be there for every recital and milestone. Be there for every bruise and breakdown. Every triumph and award. He didn’t want to miss a thing. Ever. Logan’s eyes prickled with the threat of tears again as his thoughts drifted to Roman.

He loved that boy from day he was born. So much energy in such a tiny frame and his smiles never ran out. Roman pushed and shoved at the world like he wanted everyone to know he was there. Logan couldn’t forget the tantrums he threw, the toys he’s broken in his enthusiasm, and how he ran. Ran far and fast despite his stubby little legs for his age. It didn’t matter that Roman was Patton’s kid, a detail that had lost importance as he loved him like his own.

And why the bite stung so much. Lashing out because he didn’t want anyone else to leave him. Patton didn’t quite get the hang of teaching nonviolent ways to express emotion, but then again what did he expect from a five-year-old who loved swords? No, no it wasn’t Roman’s fault. A heavy prickly ball sat in his chest, disappointment so deep that it hurt to breathe.

Logan swallowed thickly as Virgil’s giggles filled the air. Dr. Picani told him when to get vaccines and shots for Virgil in the upcoming weeks and months. Yet Logan couldn’t forget Roman’s tears. He let out an exhausted sigh as a migraine blossomed behind his eyes. Why did feelings always came with such adverse effects? Virgil tugged on his tie again and snapped him out of his thoughts. Logan shook his head and paid attention to the rest of the visit.     

+++++

Logan slammed the car door as he got in. Then slumped over his car wheel. Virgil burst into tears in the backseat at the loud noise. His shoulders slumped even more. Whatever Dr. Picani said from his silly cartoons couldn’t be right. Him? A good father?

“You’re deluding yourself,” Logan hissed under his breath, “I can’t do this. I’ll be just like my father and–”

Logan muffled a sob.

Virgil cries joined his, and he wanted to drive away into the sunset. Something ugly pierced his heart at the way he failed Virgil’s cry for attention. Damn feelings hindering his care of his son. He could cry all he wanted when he was dead. He’d have all of eternity to cry his pain and failures away.

Logan wiped away his tears with his wrist, “Pull it together, you idiot.”

He took in a shuddering breath. Then he swiftly beat back the thorny emotions at the back of his throat. Back and back and squeezed down at the bottom of his stomach. Thrown into a bottomless pit for all he cared. Then he turned around in his seat to face Virgil.

“I’m sorry, your Dad didn’t mean to startle you,” Logan reached with an arm and wiped Virgil’s thick tears away, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. You’re likely starving, here let me just–” He unclicked his seatbelt and wiggled into the backseat, “Join you.”

Logan took Virgil out of his car seat and into his arms. He bounced Virgil up and down on his knees, earning some giggles. No more tears for now. Logan reached for a bottle in his bag and immediately his son’s eyes sparkled.

Virgil sucked on the bottle as Logan cradled him. It almost felt private, in the back of his car in a crowded parking garage. The shadows hid them from the world. Logan curled up into his knees, an extra shield around Virgil. The grit in his eyes from exhaustion and the ache in his bones faded.

“I’m sorry,” Logan said again, the line of his mouth slanted down, “I suppose I learned something from this whole debacle, you are my top priority. I won’t let anything else distract me again,” Virgil blinked up at him with a coo, “It wasn’t Roman’s fault, he’s only a child who doesn’t know much better, but I’ll watch over you. You won’t get hurt anymore, I promise.”

The strains of the Imperial March startled him then pulled his phone out from his pocket. By the ringtone, it had to be his boss. Wonderful. Falsehood, he hissed in his mind. Logan sighed as he pushed the button and propped his phone between his ear and shoulder. Quietly shushing Virgil’s coos to listen.

“Logan!!! Whatcha up to?” A sugary sweet voice replied, “How are you enjoying life on the outside, haha?”

“I’m spending quality time with my son,” Logan said, his professionalism the only thing keeping his tongue in cheek, “But I noticed something off about my payments recently. It appeared that I got a 40% cut in my pay? Is it some error or?”

He heard the whirs of a printer in the background, “Yeah so listen, I gave you two months paid paternity leave. Other places would give you two weeks,” The creak of Mr. Magenta’s smile could be heard through the line, “So I’m rather generous even paying you at all. How does four-hour shifts work for you? More time with your son after all!”

“Sir, I’ve been one of your best workers for the past five years!” Logan’s temper burnt inside of him, the grip on Virgil’s bottle tightened, “Lowering my hours and docking my pay is unfair! You said I could have a six-month leave. You were fine with it a year ago–”

“Yeah I was...” Mr. Magenta said, the steady spurts of paper being printed in the background, “But you didn’t have a little demon a year ago,”

“What?”

“That’s right, you play by my rules now,” Mr. Magenta snarled, all false cheeriness gone, “You do as I say or you and your kid end up on the streets. And I’ll hire another desperate college dropout.”

“You sick sonva–”

The printer beeped.

“Oh! Looks like we’re out of ink,” Mr. Magenta giggled, “Want to try that again, Logan?”

“....What do you want? I’ll switch to the night shift, the whole shift if I have to, I need those hours. Please reconsider.”

“Hmmmmm….”

Virgil gurgled, signifying he was done drinking. Logan took the bottle out and wiped away the milk mustache with his bib. The crackling silence on the other end made the back of his hairs prickle. If he lost this job, he didn’t know what he’d do. Perhaps pick up odd jobs again but with a baby to boot? He just can’t–

“Alright!” Mr. Magenta said at last, “Night shifts for you and I better see you in two months. I rather like your manila folder, hate to shred all of that work. It’s not often to have one so thick with perfect quotas.”

“But my pay–”

“SHUT UP!” The call clicked to a stop.

Logan threw his phone down and swallowed down his yell. Not in front of Virgil. He needed to reevaluate his budget plans then. Damn it! As much as he wanted to curse and scream and cry; he didn’t want Virgil to feel like he’d done something wrong. Logan sighed, forcibly unlocking all tension from his body.

“Shush, it’s gonna be okay,” Logan said, raising Virgil over his shoulder to burp, “Let’s go home. I’ll read you something nice before you take your nap, okay? With lots of pictures. At least one of us will be happy today.”

Virgil cooed and reached up to pat his face. Those chubby fingers clumsily hanging onto his frames. The last of his anger faded away. Logan weakly smiled down at his son. He would find a way. For Virgil, he would do anything.

+++++

The camera clicked on, quietly whirring through the recording. It shook as Logan fumbled in his haste to capture the moment. The world blurred until the camera came to a stop. Focused from above onto Virgil, laying on his back in his crib. His eyes bright as he giggled as a large finger came down to tickle his stomach.

“Hello again,” Logan’s muffled giggles behind the camera, “Up from your nap already? Someone is excited about their first day of work with Daddy, huh?”

“Guah!” Virgil grabbed his finger and started to suck on it.

“I know, I know it’s third dinner already,” Logan said, the camera zooming closer until Virgil’s brown eyes took up the whole screen, “Do you want formula or formula? Or chef’s choice, formula?”

Virgil kicked at the air as the camera zoomed out again, bubbly giggles as his answer. This was the perfect shot to capture a monumental milestone. He flipped onto his stomach for the camera to see as Logan gasped. A huge step forward in his development! Virgil giggled as he pounded his little fists against his blankets.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” The camera shook again as loud clicks filled the air, “I need to tell everyone right now.”

Ping after ping, text sounds flooded the audio output, but the phone camera kept faithfully recording. Virgil reached for a mini bear toy and started to suck on its ear. So oblivious to the giggles and pings of internal screaming from his father.

The camera shook as the pings became more insistent and finally clicked to a stop. End of recording labeled “Virgil’s first rollover at 4 months”. Preserved in an abandoned phone’s memory by the owner, Logan Crofters.

++++

The red light of a security camera turned on as it detected movement. The time stamp only a few hours after the previous recording. A man stepped out of an ancient car with a dark bundle on his chest and a bag slung across his shoulder. In the lowlight of a flickering street lamp, prim and proper were the only words to describe the man.

[08:48 PM]

Logan resisted the urge to pull his navy trench coat tighter around himself in the night’s chill. Virgil slept soundly in a wrap against his chest, a dark beanie on his head to fend away the cold. Logan hurried a little faster to the doors of the building. Central heating so close! He slid his keycard without looking, so ingrained at this point, and the doors opened with a whoosh.

A lobby camera turned in its steady path to capture his entrance far below.

“Hey hey, look who’s back from vacation!” Keith whooped over his newspaper, “Really odd to see you at night, Mr. Crofters.”

“You’re telling me,” Logan replied as he walked up to the metal detectors that barred him from the elevators at the back, “I have opted to switch to the night shift so I don’t disrupt as many co-workers if Virgil cries or needs to be fed.”

“Virgil, huh?” Keith stood up, his dark curls falling in front of his face to look over his desk, “So who’s the cute little bug from? You got a girl?”

“No, and I’m not planning to get one,” Logan said tersely as he put a hand on Virgil’s back protectively, “He’s sleeping right now so I advise keeping your voice low. But it’s nice to see you again, Mr. Smith.”

“Alright, same too,” Keith sat back down again, still smiling brightly at the tiny bundle, “Have a good night, sir. And don’t work too late!”

Logan waved as he walked through the detectors. Small talk, he never quite got the hang of it. He could hear the rustle of the newspaper being snapped back open. Keith and one other guard, Ned Fulmer, always switched their shifts. One or the other. For a mid-sized accounting firm, they really should hire more staff. And more competent ones too.

Then again, he shouldn’t talk ill of them. They hired him after all when no one else did. If they gave him a steady paycheck and a crappy office, it was better than nothing. And the benefits couldn’t be understated enough. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have Virgil right now.

The elevator camera watched him fidget to some outdated tune. The strains of too peppy music despite the miserable air of the whole building circled like carrion birds in his head. The lenses whirred and clicked, catching every minuscule twitch. The grey lights flickered as he glanced down at the buttons with smudged numbers worn down over the years. Not a single one replaced like not even the buttons could escape this infernal place. The man checked his watch as the elevator slowly went up the floors, the second hand counting down like to a final curtain call rather than the start of his shift.

The doors opened and he stepped out of the oppressive metal coffin to a dark floor. Only a scant few fluorescent lights of computers were left on. It cast the cubicles into boxes of shadows and darkness. The red light of an exit sign shone at the back of it. Logan swallowed at the almost menacing and frightening air of what once was so familiar. The dull lights made him almost ill as he remembered the neon meadow of baby toys at home. Then he shook his head, primal instincts couldn’t override his reasoning.

“Good evening,” Logan said as he navigated through the corporate maze, “Good evening, fellow associates. I’ll be in my office if you need me.” No reaction from the mindless drones, their eyes glazed over as they scrolled through datasheets, “No need to welcome me back.”

The clack clack clack of keys rang against the silence, interrupted by the occasional yawn or creak. Logan straightened his shoulders, sharp angles of professionalism even if no one cared to notice or comment on. He held Virgil close to his chest like he protected a flame from a blustery wind. If the elevator was a coffin, the whole floor was a black hole of no escape. Not even light. Logan passed cubicles with no posters, pictures, or even a favorite novelty pen in sight. The night shift workers sat there glued to their screens like good little robots, click, clack, press enter, input, new row, the spreadsheets filled one by one.

Logan swallowed back the illogical instinct to retch at the display, instead of a sterile cubicle he saw the picked clean bones of a life. Of any hope. Mr. Magenta preferred his workers to have no distractions, and Logan braced his son closer at the thought. Why hadn’t he noticed the leeching effects of this monotony and fixed lifestyle before? Logan shook his head. He would stay for however long to support his son and perhaps find a better job. He ignored how long he’d been looking for a ‘better job’ for the past five years.

He hastily clicked the door of his office behind him. Away from the mechanical eyes and ears. The camera’s movement did not falter as it continued to sweep the office. Right to left, right to left, over and over, repetitive and consistent, just like the workers it monitored.

Logan slumped against the door. He made it. Stifling a sigh, he pulled out his chair from his nondescript desk and sat in it. The blinds behind him were drawn up to reveal the skyline, dull grey lines against an inky sky. Then again, not much different than the sickly smog that dirtied his view during his former day shift either. The only other lights came from his dreary coworkers, sterile white and colorless as the rest of this soul-sucking place.

He looked down at his sleeping son. Virgil squished his face deeper against his suit with a faint sigh. Right, he needed to change out of it immediately. No one would bother him for the next eight hours anyhow. He found that old sweatshirts were the preferred attire when taking care of babies. As wonderful Virgil was so far, he still drooled and spat like any other infant. Logan’s ever so present thin line softened into a smile as Virgil sniffled in his sleep.

He opened his satchel and pulled out seven different rolled up blankets from home. Budget-wise, it would’ve been smarter to opt for cheap scratchier blankets but in this rare instance he took the less logical choice and took the softer ones higher on the shelf. Spun out of clouds and dreams it advertised on the side. Logan had to take a moment to look at them. The folded blankets checkered his desk like a manicured garden of patterned dinosaurs and rainbows across it. A piece of home totally out of its element in the conditioned room where the stale air wasn’t the only thing that chilled him down to his bones.

He pulled out an empty filing cabinet, shallow but large enough, and buried it in the blankets. No cold metal would dare disturb his star darling’s sleep if he had anything to say about it. Logan fiddled with it for longer than necessary. It just–It had to be perfect. His fingers shoved and adjusted the blankets until it became a miniature nest. Hmm, good enough.

Now for the finishing touch. Logan carefully, oh so carefully, pulled Virgil out from his papoose wrap. His son whimpered and his heart skipped a beat, Logan rubbed a hand down his back and shushed him before he could fuss. Virgil’s face scrunched for a few moments then smoothed out as he rocked against Logan’s chest. Logan let out a breath. Thank Newton, he truly wouldn’t know what to do if his son woke up. He rocked Virgil to a soft hum of Mozart around the room, each step quiet as a mouse.

Virgil remained peaceful, slumping almost boneless in his hold.

Logan set him down in the makeshift bed of a cabinet. Logan leaned over to give the lightest of pecks to his son’s head and murmured a good night. He didn’t know how Virgil could be so gentle and peaceful when he’d heard horror stories from Patton about Roman keeping him up for months and months. Although Virgil did have his fair share of sleepless nights, they became less and less frequent. This seemed to be aided by the fact that his Colic had settled, which was a relief to them both. He hoped Virgil would sleep through the night soon. His books noted it was a possibility at the five-month stage.

Hmm, he didn’t want to accidentally shut close the cabinet, so he stuck several rulers in the hole between the desk and cabinet. Adequate risk minimization of injury and accident. Virgil snuffled in his sleep, his fingers clutching at empty air. His thoughts melted at the sight like butter and far sweeter than jam. No, he had to remember this wasn’t home and he couldn’t dally on his objectives.

Logan was quick to shirk off his suit jacket after that, and he laid it around his chair before rummaging through his satchel for his folded sweater at the bottom. He doubted Mr. Magenta would check up on him; it was a documented fact that the vile man never came down from his office on the top floor and certainly not on nights. Best not to mix with the henchmen of course. Logan pulled out his sweater, the smooth beige fabric soft and easier on the eyes than the stiff lines of his monochromatic suit. He rubbed his fingers through it for a moment, appreciating the faint stains of milk and spit on it. A reminder of home.

But he had more important things to focus on and he needed to complete them before Virgil’s scheduled feeding in three hours. Logan unbuttoned his white collared dress shirt with deft fingers and an eye on the door. The unforgiving conditioned air bit at his exposed arms and through the thin wall of his tank. He bit back a shiver. In one graceful movement, he pulled on his sweater with a sigh. It even smelled like home, the thought surprised him. When did he think of his apartment as home? He shook his head and pulled his chair closer to his computer.

Logan pulled up his work emails and clicked through the various databases on his computer. His eyes already started to ache at the sight of the long rows. So much he missed on his paid fraternal leave.

But first...Logan took out his phone and to take a snap of Virgil. Hmm, it seemed his son’s nest was still missing something. Logan pulled out Cow from the bottom of his bag and tucked it in next to Virgil. Perfect. Now adequate to capture this adorable moment in time.

First father-son day at work today!

The grainy photo had heart and stars stickers all over it. Patton sent back a simple thumbs up. Logan’s smile grew bigger as another text came through.

Roman doesn’t want to sleep yet, monsters in the closet again.

A slightly blurred selfie of Patton with a flyswatter and Roman peeking out from his blankets in the background appeared on his screen. Patton sat in the entrance of the closet from what he remembered of Roman’s room. Logan pressed a thumb onto the photo and saved it to his archive. Roman was so brave some days, but all kids had fears, including the ‘prince’ himself. But he had nothing to be afraid of when his Dad was there. Always ready to the rescue.

He only hoped he could be half of the great father Patton was.

+++++

Patton giggled as he turned on the old VHS camera recorder from his college days. He flipped open the screen, a blue screen flashes before it showed the adorable scene before him. He muffled his giggles as he pressed the zoom in.

[12:43 Jun 24 2019]

Roman laid on his stomach, eye to eye to his arch-nemesis, one Virgil Crofters. Six months old and full of life. Golly, he remembered when the poor kiddo was so quiet.

Virgil laid on his stomach for the required ‘tummy time’ that Logan talked about. His eyes watching Roman’s attentively like they were a pair of shiny keys.

Roman covered his eyes, “Oh no, where did I go?”

Virgil giggled.

“Peek a boo!” Roman said with a gummy grin, “Did I getcha?”

“Hehehehe, peka!” Virgil babbled, “Pepe, pepe, pee!!!”

“Logan is going to love this,” Patton said as he squealed with excitement, fiddling with the camera controls to capture every adorable giggle both of their sons had, “It’s going to be so fun to edit this for your first birthday, oh yes it will! Oh yes it will!!”

Roman groaned, “Daaaaaaddd!!! You’re so embarashing!”

“It’s embarr-assing, kiddo,” Patton said, then waved a hand in front of the camera, “You’re doing great, honey!! We can totally take care of little Virge for a bit.”

“ASS!” Virgil shouted with all the enthusiasm of a new discovery, “Ass, ash, shh!!”

“DAAAAD, HE SAID A BAD WORD!!” Roman snickered as he pointed at Virgil, “Look who’s in trooooubblleeeeeee!!!”

“N-no he didn’t say anything bad,” Patton said, his voice shaky behind the camera, “How ‘bout I give you ice cream tonight and watch some movies huh? I’ll give Logan this a little later after I figure out how to edit again…” Nervous laughter echoed, “Just to give the very best moments of his adorable son!”

The picture froze, the snickers cut off by the end of the recording.

+++++

“What are you doing?” Logan’s face squinted up into the camera, “What? Do I have something on my face?”

“No, no, don’t let me stop you!” Nate said, his snicker deep and graveled, “Do you want me to hide behind the door again? Virgil seemed to like it! Come on, pleaaaaassseeee?”

Logan blushed, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Virgil babbled at the mention of his name. Almost squirming in Logan’s hold until he had to kick off the rocking chair again to calm him down. Nate shoved his phone’s camera into Logan’s face, a rosy blush crawling up until–

“Fine fine,” Logan caved, then looked down at Virgil, “But for him. You’re right, he does seem to enjoy it. And he does require intellectual stimulation, especially at the six-month mark.”

“Yes!”

Nate held true to his hold and shuffled away to give him space. He propped his phone up to catch the picturesque image of a father cradling his son in the room, lit up by soft blue lamps. Toys laid scattered on the ground along with a playmat in one corner. Then Logan did that smile again, so private and reserved for Virgil only.

He couldn’t believe Logan was letting him catch it on camera! Forever bottled in time as a wonderful moment to the robotic man he once knew. The room hushed, even Virgil’s giggles quietened. Logan drew in a breath as his whole posture changed and the sharp lines around his figure smudged into something indiscernible. Almost like he was dropping his lifelong act as a boring square.

“ Baby mine, don’t you cry,” Logan’s voice gentle as raindrops and honey, “Baby mine, dry your tears, rest your head close to my heart, ” Virgil’s eyes slipped closed as Logan cradled him closer, rubbing his cheek gently, “ Never to part, oh baby mine…”

Logan kissed the top of his forehead. Virgil’s stubby little hands clutched at his blue sweatshirt, the wrinkles smoothing out on his face where they remained on his shirt. His tiny puffs of breath slowed into sleep, entering his second scheduled nap of the day. The rocking chair creaked to a stop as Logan hummed soft notes to his lullaby.

He stood up, still slowly rocking Virgil in his arms. Then walked over to his crib and set Virgil down. The camera strained to catch Logan’s whisper as he hovered over his son. His lips moved but Nate couldn’t decipher it at the moment.

The camera could:

“I’ll never leave you, Virgil. Not until the day I die. I love you so much.”

Logan turned around then a blush overtook his face again as he noticed the camera.

“Always so camera shy!” Nate giggled as Logan marched over. His hand reaching out toward the camera, his palm blotting out everything. And then–

The phone ran out of battery.

[Recording lost.]

taglist:

@poisonedapples @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2, @milomeepit, @k9cat, @my-happy-little-bean, @thesocialbookwormishere, @sher-soc-the-famder @thebrokenbluecrayon,  @confinesofpersonalknowledge, @mariniacipher @finger-gunsss @peanut0303 @ilylogan @princeanxious @khadij-al-kubra @smokeyrutilequartz @pipapatton @ironwoman359 @celestial-firestorm @virge-of-a-breakdown @bunny222 @rosesisupposes @wildhorsewolf @sander-fander-sides  @teacupfulofstarshine @ashrain5 @deafgirl-and-hercoven @moonfang03 @karmels-stuff @everythings-coming-up-aces @a-little-bit-of-ace @thekeytohappiness-is-you @larkiaquail @wundergirllovesyou @gemini-the-kitsune-rp @squishyturtle44 @alotofstupidstuff @pridefox @doing-my-demibest @coffee-fueled-art @tinashrader @pr0bablypr0crstinating @theunoriginaldaisy @fiive-second-cookies @anxiousangel121 @llamaavocado  @ever-after-aaa

[huntertales]

Part Two: Go Directly to Purgatory, Do Not Pass Go. (Taxi Driver S08E19)

Episode Summary: Sam, Dean and the reader respond to a call from a terrified Kevin who claims to hear Crowley’s voice in his head. Also with the good news that he’s discovered the second trial from the tablet—rescue an innocent soul from hell. The reader has to team up with a reaper named Ajay to complete the task, meanwhile the boys get a visit from the angel Naomi. But when things go awry, Dean must find Benny and ask him for a huge favor. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 6,176.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

You vividly remembered hell. The torture inflicted upon you for the three and a half months you were down there. How time seemed to go by in an agonizing slow pace to the point where it felt like you were moving in slow motion. Each little act done to you by Alistair's tools was still clear in your mind. Every cut, every burn. Every fantasy and happy memory you harbored turned into a nightmare because of him. He turned you inside out and learned every little thing about you so he could use it against you. There was no secrets between him and his favorite pet. His little art project he was going to break and build up again into something better. You could have made it a lot easier if you just cooperated. He almost broke you with a little twist he thought was funny. 

Torture had been somethings human had done since the dawn of time, either to get information or just for the hell of it. The things that normal people would find sick to their stomach felt like child's play compared to what happened to you. That's why Crowley wanted you by his side after he pulled you out of the cage when he took control and set his eyes on finding purgatory. He needed someone who had experience in torture. You might not have had the hands on like Dean, but you had a few decades of trauma to help you out. Lucifer and Michael also gave you some creative ideas as well. You were tortured for a while in the cage. When they weren't too busy with Sam. It wasn’t long until the puppet became the master.

You tortured Alphas and their offspring to find out where purgatory was, the exact location Dean and Cas spent an entire year running and fighting for their lives, trying to find an escape. It was also where they met a vampire named Benny Lafitte and made a connection that was unorthodox. A monster and a hunter wouldn't have been friends in the real world. But the rules for how life used to be were bent when the three of them wanted freedom, and Benny showed them a way out. You only heard stories of this afterlife from Dean when he recalled the horrors he endured, and even then your mind tried to fill in the gaps of what it was like. Never in your life would have you figured you were going to experience it for yourself. 

There were a few misconceptions about what purgatory was; some religions thought the afterlife didn't exist, Catholics thought it was a place for sinners to go to "cleanse" their souls. It was an in between place for people who weren't good enough just yet to go to heaven, but they were rotten enough for hell. It was a place for God to put you and think about all the wrong you did and ask for His forgiveness, per se. Suffer for a short amount of time until you were squeaky clean in God's eyes and He let you upstairs to live in eternal bliss. While it did very much exist, it was no place for a human like you to be in. 

This was an afterlife created for every monster that stemmed back to the first born creatures created by Eve herself. Vampires, shapeshifters, everything you've ever hunted landed here. And even a thing or two you missed during your absence from your own life was crawling around here. Miles upon miles of nature for the creatures to roam free and for them to be at their most natural state. Violent and bloody. You remembered something about what Dean said about this place, how there was something...pure about this setting. There were no rules, no remorse about the things you did to survive. It was either kill or be killed. 

You didn't know how long you'd been walking through the woods, trying to be quiet as you could be to keep any unwanted attention off of you while following following Ajay's directions. Follow the stream where three trees meet as one. And behind the rocks was the portal to take you to hell. You kept your ears listening for any sound of rushing water, all while focusing on anything that jumped out of the ordinary. The biggest fear you had right now was getting lost in here. You didn't want to be roaming around in these parts of the afterlife in the first place. There was no way you were going to be staying past your welcome. 

Everything seemed somewhat quiet for the past hour while you kept walking through the woods. You held the demon knife at your side, waiting for anyone who wanted to pick a fight with you that would only end up with them being the loser. You found yourself wondering for a moment about what happened after the monster died here. Was it an endless loop of dying and coming back to life? Or was it just...nothing? Darkness. Emptiness. Nothing to look forward to. The thought made you feel uneasy at the concept. 

You were broken out of your concentration down the path you were talking when you heard a branch snap in the near distance, it sounded close. You felt your grip around the demon knife tighten as you suddenly stopped for a second to look around the woods, wondering if there was someone watching you. When you saw nothing but an endless miles of trees, you still didn't feel comfortable going forward. There was no woodland creatures here to crunch leaves and snap a twig. Something had to have made that noise, and you were right at what happened next.

Suddenly you felt yourself falling backwards onto the ground, the dead leaves cushioning your landing when you fell onto your back. You didn't have any time to react at the monster that seemed to have jumped out of nowhere, trying to kill you before you could. You fought with him for a few moments to get him off of you after you lost the knife. Somehow you found the strength to do so. You reached out a hand to try and grab the knife, but you found his weapon instead. Without even thinking, you grabbed it and swiftly beheaded him, making you the winner of the fight. You used what strength you had to push yourself back up to your feet, you had little time until someone came to try for a round two. 

You continued on walking through the woods until you finally came across the sight you were looking for; where three trees met as one along with some very heavy looking rocks. You inhaled a breath from what you had to do. There was a chance you could move the rock on your own and crawl your way inside, but you weren't strong as you were before you started doing the trials. Part of you was starting to regret having one of the boys tagged along to help you with this part. But you didn't think you were going to be taking a detour in purgatory, and despite the mishap a few miles back, you made it. There was no reason why you couldn't move this rock by yourself. You made your way over to the boulder that was at least a foot taller than you and started to use all the strength you had to start moving it slowly. You struggled for a bit before you stumbled backwards, the rock falling to the ground with a heavy thud. 

You stared into the dark abyss of the portal Ajay had told you about, the rabbit hole you needed to jump down in order to go to hell. You felt the ends of your lips stretch into a slight smile from how all of this was shaping out to be. This was getting more crazier with each passing trial you did, learning about things you would have never expected to exist. Rogue reapers and rabbit holes into hell. You grabbed the weapon you stole from the monster and stepped forward to the portal, letting yourself be sucked inside and transported to the one place you thought you'd never end up again. At least, not on these terms. 

Hell was a place you would remember if you ever got the chance to go back, not that you wanted to. It seemed Crowley was keeping up appearances when you crawled out from the space you landed yourself in after struggling through the darkness until you found a stone wall and pushed aside just enough space for you to squeeze yourself through. You felt the same sense of dread come over at the sight of this place. Endless hallways and corners for you to get yourself lost. You tucked your weapon underneath your arm and took off your locket, letting the heart pendent hang off a high edge as some sort of place marker for you to find the exit spot so you didn’t spend time trying to find it. 

The last time you were in hell you were trying to hold on to any scrap left in your humanity, this time your goal was to navigate this place to grab someone important and get yourself along with your unborn child to safety. Shouldn't be too hard. You adjusted the grip around the weapon and inhaled a deep breath, trying not to put too much thought into what you were about to do. Not only were you in hell again, you were about to see someone you didn't think you were ever going to be able to again. Under circumstances you wish you didn't have to lead to. But you wanted him in heaven, knowing you weren't dead. And his kids were having one themselves.

You made your way journey into hell, listening to the endless cries of tortured souls who damned themselves into this punishment from the actions they chose and for those who bartered their soul for something. You tried to keep an eye out for any demons that most likely were keeping an eye out for you, along with the souls who were locked away in their cages awaiting punishment. You tried your hardest to keep yourself from thinking about how you were in their exact same position, even if it was just for a short amount of time. You looked in every cage to see if you could find Bobby, only to see a few souls begging for help while another mumbled a name while you came across a young woman who thought you were someone else. 

“You came. I knew you would. I’ve been praying for it. Forever.” She said. You felt some sort of pity for her, thinking you were someone else who was going to take her out of this place. While you tried to tell her that, she didn’t seem to listen. She was a broken record. “You came. I knew you would. I’ve been praying for it. Forever.”

Her voice drowned out into the rest of the noises surrounding this part of hell, her pleads and screams fell on deaf ears. You wandered around for a bit more until you stumbled upon a small cell that had someone standing with their back to you, endless scratch marks on the walls. Tallies of how many days he'd been in here. You felt a smile began to creep across your face at the mere sight of him, dirty trucker hat and all. After all of this time, you found him. You reached for the rusty gate and slowly opened it up before stepping inside. All of this felt too good to be true. It had to be him. There was no way it wasn’t.

"Bobby?" You whispered the name of the man you'd traveled all the way here for, feeling a little bit excited to see the first reaction on his face of seeing you alive after all of the grief and pain you put him through. 

He turned around and faced the person who spoke his name in a familiar tone you thought he hadn't heard in so long. Your smile grew wider as you felt a rush of happiness cover over at what was about to happen. You thought this reunion was going to be heartwarming and filled with disbelief, but you were welcomed with a cold reaction. All of a sudden you felt a throbbing pain in your nose as you stumbled backwards, taking you a few seconds to realize the old man punched you. 

"Okay, ow." You muttered under your breath in a bit of an over dramatic effort at his first reaction seeing you after all this time. You pinched the bridge of your nose in fear he might have broken it and stop any bleeding. "Fine. I admit I sort of deserved that." 

"Get out of here, you black-eyed son of a bitch." Bobby ordered at you. You were taken aback at his behavior, making you wonder for a second if he thought you were the demon side you killed off with your bare hands to taunt him. Or you were one of Crowley’s goons dressed up as you.

"What? Bobby, it's me." You tried to tell him again to settle this debacle with the truth before he could hit you again. "Y/N. Alive and human. Remember?"

"Yeah. And I'm Elvis. Move your ass!" Bobby shouted at you, not even bothering to take a second and believe it was you who was trying to talk to him. You guessed your demon side would have went straight for the torture and left the game of charade for another time. But it seemed Bobby was led to believe you weren't who you say you were. You managed to speak his name in a pleading tone and attempted to tell him the reason why you were here, but he lost his patience and cut you off once again before you could. "Get!"

"It's me, you old bag of bones!" You accidentally snapped at him, finding yourself unable to take his attitude for another second. However, reality came crashing down on you when you realized you just raised your voice a little too loudly, knowing it might have been heard from one of the demons. You spoke up again, this time dropping your voice to prove yourself. "Okay, dammit. If it's not really Y/N...then how do I know about you Tori Spelling?"

Bobby's expression fell into confusion at what he heard. No demon had ever said that to him during his time here. And no amount of torture would have made the man spill such a deep secret of his. "What?"

"You're a fan. You told me when I caught you. We watched 'Tori and Dean' together when I was sick with the flu and the boys took that case by themselves. Oh, and what about your free pedicure at the Mall of America? You made Dean swear never to tell a living soul how it changed your life." You said, not hesitating for a second about repeating all of the secrets he had also told Dean when he was hit with a truth spell. You felt your smile creeping back when Bobby stared at you with awe. He spoke your name, wondering if it really was you. "No. I'm your fairy godmother."

Bobby didn't hesitate for a second in giving you the tightest hug he could manage. You let yourself enjoy the feeling of being in the embrace of a man who was the only proper father figure in your life. Who knew all of your deepest secrets as well, silly and darkest. He never laughed at you And he never judged. Bobby was also the person who you lost before the both of you could say goodbye. You stood there for a moment with your arms wrapped around his neck, trying your hardest not to let your emotions get the best of you. You squeezed him to make sure this was happening, a part of you didn't want to let go. But you did after a few moments to get going on with the reason why you were making a pit stop in hell to say more than hello.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, but you're the two hundredth Y/N I've seen today. That's how they screw with me. Just endless you and the boys, all wearing the same black eyes." Bobby told you about the personal hell he'd been experiencing while down here. While your expression fell into shock at the things he was going through, it took a moment for Bobby to figure out that the both of you were meeting once again the afterlife. His face fell in dread. "Wait a minute. What the hell are you doing here? Please don't tell me you've been stuck down here with me, too." 

"What? No, no, no. I'm good." You quickly shook your head, reassuring the older man you hadn't been neighbors with him this entire time. You let out a sigh when you realized this was the time where you needed to tell him the truth about what really happened, but you didn't have time to go into too much detail. "Actually, there's something I need to tell you. Very quickly. You see, I wasn't really...dead. I was alive the entire time you thought I was.” 

"What?" Bobby asked. If you thought he was lost before, he felt like the both of you were having two completely different conversations. "The hell are you talking about, kid? We saw you die with our own eyes. We burned your body."

"You didn't. You burned the body of the demon that she was possessing. I didn't die. I asked Cas to make me forget who I was for a little while. So I could live as someone else." You confessed the truth to Bobby, waiting for him to react the anger and grief you put him through. How he died thinking you had suffered through all that pain for nothing. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that to you. If I knew how things turned out, I would have never done it."

The small amount of silence that fell after you admitted what you had done, how you left Bobby thinking you were dead up until his last breath, made you feel guilty when you heard he was gone himself. You were expecting him to feel some sort of anger towards you for the grief you put him through. However, the both of you didn't have much time to get into things right now. You felt a smile of relief cross your lips when Bobby responded in a sarcastic tone of voice. "You came all the way here just to tell me?"

“No. I’m here to right some wrongs. I’m here to get you out.” You told him, pulling out the demon knife from the waistband of your jeans and handing it over to the hunter. “You don’t belong here, Bobby. And we’re getting you out.” 

Bobby moved his gaze down to make sure he was grabbing the wooden handle of the weapon from your grasp. In doing so, he noticed even in the shadowy darkness something was different from the last time he saw you. Something worth mentioning. “You go a little soft on that vacation of yours, kid?”

"What? Oh. Yeah. I should also probably have mentioned this.” You looked down to see he was staring at your stomach that was a little more rounder than he ever saw before. Your lips stretched into a smile at the bump you hadn't formally introduced him to yet. "By the way, I’m kind of...pregnant." 

+ + +

There always seemed not to be enough time in the day to accomplish much of anything, but these twenty four hours seemed to be going by grueling slow. The boys had been trying to keep themselves busy with keeping an extra eye out on Kevin, who had been more paranoid than usual. Both of them thought he was asleep in the closet after only coming out once for dinner. It was the only place he felt genuinely safe enough from the king of hell, who was supposedly in his head playing tricks. Whatever helped the kid from having a mental breakdown.

Dean hoped the smell of bacon grease would get Kevin from his hiding spot for some breakfast. He cooked with the same iron skillet the prophet had greeted all of you with, deciding to make better use of it. Sam occupied his time after making a stop into town for some food that was a bit more on the healthier side after going through the fridge to see it was looking a little scarce. The younger Winchester now examined the notes and scribbles Kevin taped around the boathouse to try and help him translate better. Sam tried to make sense of the gibberish, but the symbols were just that. Nothing helped make sense what God was trying to say. 

"Hey, Kevin! Come in here and grab some of these eggs." Dean called out to the prophet. He waited a moment to hear the heavy metal door's hinges squeak open and Kevin to pop out for a plate, but all Dean got was silence. "Kev! Come on man, you can't hide in there forever."

Sam decided to check up on the kid himself to see if he was sleeping, or spiraling downwards to the point of no return. Before he could do so, the main door to enter and leave the houseboat opened up unexpectedly. Both of the brothers were a bit surprised to see it was Kevin. “Where have you been? What about being scared?”

“I am scared.” Kevin said. Sam gave the kid a bit of a confused expression as to how he was contradicting himself with his words and actions. Just a handful of hours ago he was scared to step outside of the closet. But it seemed he was feeling confident enough to step outside. Maybe for the first time in months. “So I made a preemptive move.”

Neither one of the boys liked the sound of that. It was Dean who tried to figure out what the kid was talking about. “So...made a what now?”

“I can't sit here with the tablet like a... sitting duck and Crowley breathing down my ass.” Kevin told the boys his genius plan. He made his way to the table where he normally worked and shrugged off his jacket, throwing it to the nearest chair. “Getting rid of the tablet just takes off some of the pressure.” 

“Wait.” Sam stopped the kid from saying another word, trying to wrap his head around what he just said, hoping the words he just heard were lost in translation. “Getting rid of it?”

“Temporarily.” Kevin said. “I hid it.”

“What?” Dean questioned the prophet, his hardening glare following him as Kevin went back to his hiding spot. “Where?”

“If I tell you where, it's not hidden, is it?” Kevin had the audacity to give a sarcastic response back to the older Winchester. 

Dean found himself becoming overwhelmed with frustration at Kevin’s plan to keep a safe distance away from the king of hell for a little while. The prophet forgot the little detail about how delaying the plan to figure out the last trail would hurt the person doing them, you. The boys knew your body wasn’t handling itself well after doing the first one. And they didn’t want to know how you were going to be after this. If Kevin pushed this off longer than it needed to be, who knows how much more damage was going to take a toll on your body. 

“You know this is more than just about you, right? Y/N needs to finish these. Because if you couldn’t tell, she’s kind of pregnant!” Dean reminded the kid who was the one putting their neck out to do these trails and lock away the demon supposedly messing with his head. Kevin didn’t seem to care, which only fueled the older man’s anger “Kevin, tell me where the damn tablet is, or I swear to you—“ 

“Or you’ll what, Dean?” Kevin asked the man, not falling for the tough act he was trying to put on. “She made that choice to do this. Nobody asked me if I wanted to be a prophet and take on this crap. Just...leave me alone.”

Dean shouted the kid’s name one last time, finding himself contemplating on giving him a beating to try and knock some sense into him at how he was acting. But he never got the chance when the closet door shut with a heavy thud, leaving the brothers feeling defeated at what went down. Neither one of them wanted to break the news to you about Kevin’s plan of distancing himself from the tablet. You would eat the poor kid alive. Sam contemplated for a moment if he might be able to talk some sense into Kevin and get him to get the tablet. However, before he could do so, an unexpected guest popped out of nowhere. 

“Kids. So cute when they're little. Then they turn into teenagers, and the party's over.” The boys heard a female voice come out of nowhere, taking them by surprise. A woman stood just a handful of feet from them, greeting the hunters with a smile, as if showing she meant no harm. It didn’t take much process of elimination to know what she was. An angel. She began walking forward with her hand outstretched in front of her. “We haven't been formally introduced, boys. My name is Naomi.”

“Oh, we know who you are.” Dean told the angel, backing away from her to distance himself from the person who used his best friend like a puppet. “And I know what you did to Cas after he got out of Purgatory.”

“After I rescued him from Purgatory, you mean, at the cost of many angels' lives.” Naomi corrected the man to how she saw things. She retracted her hand, dropping it back down to her side at their hostile behavior towards her, which she should have seen coming from how she popped in here unannounced like this. 

“You screwed with his head and had him spy on us.” Sam said, knowing well enough himself about what she did to the angel for her own benefit.  

“Well, it is true that I have spoken with Castiel many times, trying to reach out to him, trying to help him.” Naomi defended her actions against the two hunters who only saw one side of the story. Who didn’t want to believe Castiel wasn’t what he used to be. And was in of help from his siblings. “Boys, you must have noticed how Purgatory changed him. I mean, he's been unstable in the past, but I was shocked at how damaged he is now.”

“Stop, okay? Don't try to spin this.” Dean told the angel, not wanting to hear any sort of lie to make this seem okay. It might have worked on Cas, but there was no way he was going to put his guard down for an angel. “You think I don't know that you told him to try and kill me?”

“Hmm. Yeah, I suppose that is how he would hear it. When I learned of the angel tablet, I did tell Castiel to get it at any cost. That's my job—to protect heaven. I'm a warrior, just as you are. What would you expect?” Naomi told the truth to the boys, hoping they would understand the drastic measures she put herself and the angel the both of them cared for in a position like this. “And now Castiel is in the wind with a hydrogen bomb in his pocket, and I—I'm scared, for all of us.”

“Save it.” Dean cut off the woman before she could continue on with this little act she was putting on. “See, we don’t trust angels, which means I don't trust you.”

“And yet you haven't warded this place against us. I know. You're hoping Castiel will return to you. I admire your loyalty. I only wish he felt the same way.” Naomi said. Both of the boys felt the words hit them, knowing there was truth in them they didn’t want to believe. Cas was out there in the world, thinking it was better to be on his own. And not back to the people who were his friends. “I know you don't want to believe it, boys, but we're on the same side—shutting the Gates of Hell, bringing Castiel in from the cold. Take a moment. Think about what I've said.”

Naomi was about to leave the brothers with her parting words, hoping it might be of use to stop them from giving her the cold shoulder. However, before she left, there was one bit of information left Naomi wanted to tell them. Something they would surely love to hear. “Oh. I know you've been doing business with Ajay. He did mention, didn't he, that his way into Hell is through Purgatory?“

The words that came out of the angel's mouths were ones that neither one of the boys expected to hear. All of you were lead to believe Ajay could sneak you straight into hell and back with Bobby's soul. But the devil was in the details. In order to smuggle a human into hell there were certain paths that needed to be gone down. Dean felt his stomach drop. The idea of you going to hell in your condition filled him with anxious thoughts. But to hear you were in that wasteland by yourself...his mind flashed back to the time he spent there, fighting and running for his life. 

"Purgatory severely damaged Castiel. I can only imagine what kind of psychological scars it left you, Dean. At least you had someone with you there to help you when things got tough.” Naomi said. “But to know Y/N is roaming around there all by her lonesome? I can only wonder how helpless she might be feeling at the moment. It’s no place for a human. Especially someone in her condition.” 

"Y/N is a lot of things," Sam jumped to your defense from the way Naomi was speaking about you. "But helpless is not one of them."  

"Yes, well, we all like to believe the people we deeply care for are capable of taking care of themselves. But it never hurts to have more people in your corner. I want Y/N to complete these trials as much as you do." Naomi told the boys, wanting to make one thing clear. Her support came with a price, she told them the truth about the risky chances they were taking to do these trials on their own. "Food for thought. We can be of help to each other."

Naomi left with her parting words for the Winchesters to think about, the only thing left to be heard was the sound of fluttering winds to signify her departure. The brothers slowly looked over at one another after a moment passed and the reality came crashing down on them. Kevin ditched the tablet and you had to travel to purgatory in order to go to hell. If things didn't seem bad before, they were spiraling downwards faster than the boys could figure out how to stop it.

+ + +

"What in the hell were you thinking? Doing something stupid like this?"

You thought the thing Bobby was going to be angry most of all was telling him the truth about how your death was really a sham and you were living a normal life under a secret identity. But no What was making him lecture you on how much of an "idjit" you were was the fact that you were five months pregnant and roaming around the halls of hell in an attempt to rescue him from this afterlife. You tried to explain to him that all of this was the second trial in closing up hell for good. You barely managed to get that out along with a few words before he was back at it again. 

If the situation was different and he was still alive, you would have found him annoying like the boys when they showed their concerns. However seeing Bobby like this felt oddly comforting in a way that it reminded you of the old days. Of course he knew Dean was the father, which lead to him being dragged about how much of an idiot he was himself for letting something like this happen. You told him he was very much against all of this in the first place, but you weren't the type of person who liked to listen. You felt yourself chuckle slightly at how Bobby muttered your kid was going to be one stubborn handful. 

"Well, their grandfather isn't any better." You looked over your shoulder when you mentioned the title you saw Bobby as, your lips stretching into a smirk. Even if he was moving into somewhere better, you would always think of him as your father. Bobby's expression softened slightly at what you said. While you passed the corner after hearing the same girl before say her repetitive speech, you suddenly found yourself being pulled back into reality that you were in hell. And this place was crawling with demons. "Get back. Get back, get back.”

You warned Bobby about the demon you caught sight of just several yards away from you and approaching. You pressed your backside against the wall and tightened your grip around your weapon, waiting for the right moment to charge at him when he turned the corner. Right when you saw the demon come into your vision, that’s when you raced forward, attempting to try and kill him before he could do so. You weren’t strong as you thought, the demon managed to grab ahold of your arm wielding the weapon and throw you against the wall. But before he could do anything, Bobby stabbed him with the demon knife, killing him instantly. 

There was never just one demon roaming around these parts. Bobby had mere seconds until another one came charging forward, attempting to punch him, the old man was faster. He managed to stab the demon and throw his dead body to the ground. In the midst of all the chaos, Bobby found himself being confronted with his own hell Crowley had tailored just for him. 

“Let’s go!” You ordered at him. “We gotta get out of here!”

"Bobby, they're messing with you." You said, pointing to your doppelganger.

"Don't listen to her." You told him. "She's not real." 

"Bobby, get away from her!" You shouted at him, losing your patience at this cheap trick. It seemed your annoyance had gotten through to the old man to figure out it was really you he was to trust and not some demon Crowley made to look like you. Without thinking, Bobby attacked the one on his left, proving that it was the demon all along. You still felt a bit hesitant about how wrong all of this could have gone. "You knew somehow, right?"

“Took a chance.” Bobby admitted. You gave him a look of disbelief at the words that came right out of his mouth, after he told you about how you needed to be safe. "Fifty-fifty." 

You rolled your eyes, telling him to get his ass moving before the both of you had company. You managed to find your way back to the spot you entered from, spotting your necklace hanging off the ledge you placed it on. This was where you and Bobby made your departure from hell and to your next destination. You grabbed your necklace and told him to follow you towards the hidden exit. This was where things got even more complicated. 

Down the rabbit hole once more and spit back out, you found yourself standing in the familiar scenery of the forest with trees as tall as the sky reached and dead leaves at your feet. You were in one piece and back at the bolder with Bobby. You took a moment to put your necklace back on while Bobby looked around the scenery. wondering why it looked so odd. The man might not have been on earth for almost two years now, but he knew if he was back. This wasn't that place, it felt different from anything he ever been to. 

“What the hell is this?” Bobby asked.

“All right, don't get all pissed off." You warned the man, knowing what you were about to say was going to upset him much as it did when you figured it out from Ajay. "Purgatory." 

Bobby, in his true fashion that you missed dearly, reacted in one way you knew he was going to after the bad news you told him. “Balls!” 

[Next Part]

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[ratwrites]

Lies In Paradise 2/2

Requests.

Masterlist.

Prompt/s: "I don't need a babysitter."

Summary: Sam stays with (Y/N) after the Jinn attack.

Warnings: Lil angst? Fluff

Pairing: Sam Winchester X Reader

Word Count: 3,987

A/N: Not gonna lie I totally lost interest in this ;-; So this is just a little quick happy ending thing. I'm working on some other things to get my creative juices flowing. Trying to write through my block

[[MORE]]

I carried her outside panic clenching hard on my heart while guilt tugged at my gut. This my was fault... I shouldn't have let her go alone. She was limp in my arms as I carried her to the impala. I glanced back spotting Dean close behind me. In one arm he held a young boy and in his other was a girl about her size. The boy was wide awake while the girl seemed a little out of it. I carefully opened the back door letting Dean slide his load in first. I didn't want to let go of her.

"Come on Sam, we've got to get them to the hospital," Dean growled. I convinced myself to let go setting her in the back seat. The other girl gently laid her across her lap. I gave her a nod of thanks before closing the door and getting into the passenger seat.

.

I sat in the hospital waiting room with Dean. My arms rested across my knees allowing my head to hang. My mind was racing. I shouldn't have let her go alone. I ran a hand through my hair the panic still holding onto my heart. I couldn't calm down. "Dylan?" My head shot up. Dean and I jumped out of or seats and headed toward the doctor.

"How is she? Is she alright?" I asked, nervously.

"And how are the kids?" Dean added.

"They're all doing fine. You found them just in time. If your friend or the girl would've lost anymore blood there would be nothing to help them," he explained, calmly. I let out a sigh of relief my heart relaxing a little.

"Their parents have been called. Thank you both," the doctor added, bowing his head.

"May we see her?" I questioned, running a hand through my hair again. The doctor nodded before walking away. We followed after him until he stopped outside her door.

"You check on her, I'm going to check on the kids," Dean said. I nodded and went into her room. To my surprise she was awake.

"Hey Sam," she rasped, turning her head toward me.

"How are you feeling?" I asked, coming to her bedside. I stood only for a moment before pulling a chair over. She coughed, looking away for a moment.

"Little tired, but I've had worse," she chuckled, roughly. Her voice was weak and hoarse. I frowned slightly.

"I'm so sorry-"

"Don't start." She cut me off. I tilted my head in confusion.

"It isn't- your fault Sam," she said. I opened my mouth to speak, but she cut me off.

"I let my guard down when I saw the girl. That was my mistake," she explained.

"But I-"

"Sam, I went alone because I wanted to. It isn't your fault. I can see it in your eyes- you're blaming yourself... And you don't need to," she finished. I breathed in to speak again but silenced myself as her hand gently rested over mine. Without thinking I shifted intertwining our fingers.

The softest smile I'd ever seen crossed her perfect lips. The panic left me and was replaced with warmth. I stroked her thumb with mine taking a monent to scan my gaze over her face. She was paler than she normally was, but the color was slowly returning to her cheeks and face. Her eyes sparkled even through the dull color that currently occupied her eyes. Her smile held sending butterflies into my stomach. Only one person had ever made me experience such happiness in the roughest times. My heart sank slightly. She was another fine example of how people got hurt around me. I slowly released her hand looking away.

"It's funny... The Jinn showed me everything I've ever wanted.." She huffed, looking up at the ceiling. I turned my gaze back to her.

"What did it show you?" I asked, curiously. She let out a puff of laughter.

"I had my family.. I was married and I lived a normal life as an art teacher..." She sighed, sadness crossing her expression. I stayed silent.

"I had everyone.. My sister, my brothers, my dad, Dean..." She hesitated. "You."

I raised my brows in surprise. My curiosity continued to grow as did my hopes. I'd tried to bury the feelings I had for her, but everytime I thought I was in the clear she'd do something else to remind me of how perfect she was. I'd wanted to tell her for a long time, but I couldn't.

"We had a dog," she added, laughing again. My ears caught at we. We? What did she mean we? When she says married.. Did she mean us? I tried to clear my head. Her eyes met mine and I held it.

"I wanted to stay honestly.." She murmured, looking away her smile fading.

"I had everything I ever could've had..." The question pushed at me.

"Why didn't you?" She looked back at me catching my gaze again.

"I-" she looked away for a moment before catching me again.

"I saw a little boy... When- when I grabbed him I heard..." she hesitated.

"Heard what?" I encouraged.

"I heard you.. Yelling for me.." She continued. My heart stopped.

"I could hear you for a split second calling out to me..." I didn't know what to say so instead I waited.

"I couldn't leave you, which is ironic because you tried to stop me from going too," she huffed. I couldn't help myself as I reached forward taking her hand in mine once more. She squeezed my hand lightly. Her face was sad and it broke me.

"Plus, apparently Dean didn't give me my bracelet and I couldn't live without that damn thing," she giggled, trying to lighten the mood. The sadness on her face only faded a little.

"Damn right you couldn't. You never take it off for christ sake." Dean's voice startled me. I wasn't sure how long he'd been there, but I didn't really care. He came to stand next to me resting a hand on my shoulder. I didn't let go of her hand and she didn't pull away.

"How are ya kid?" Dean asked, calmly.

"I've been better," she said, coughing briefly. Dean chuckled.

"Both of the kids are going to be okay. The little boy is actually going to be discharged in the morning. The Jinn barely got anything out of him before we got there," Dean explained, looking back at the door.

"What about the girl I saw when I got there?" She questioned, sitting up a little more.

"She'll be released in a week or so, but we can get you released now if you want," Dean replied. She let out a sigh of relief.

"Get me the hell out of here. I hate hospitals," she pleaded. I frowned looking up at Dean.

"Maybe that isn't such a good idea. We've got a long drive ahead of us and you need to rest," I countered. She frowned playfully at me.

"I can sleep in the car, plus, isn't there an angel back at the bunker?" She corrected. She had a point. Cas could definitely get her back on her feet in a matter of seconds.

"I'll go get the discharge papers then," Dean said, before wandering out of the room. I turned my full attention back to her looking her over again.

"Are you sure you want to do this? You shouldn't really be up and about so soon." I was concerned about her. She rolled her eyes.

"Help me sit up, will you?" I stood from the chair pushing it aside. I gently reached behind her splaying my hand along her back as she began to sit up. My other hand was braced on her shoulder to steady her. She seemed to tense under my touch which was odd. She shifted with a grunt swinging her legs off of the bed. A nurse entered the room with Dean on her heels. The nurse frowned, but began to unhook her from the machines, silently. I stepped aside taking my place next to Dean.

"Are we sure about this?" I questioned, glancing at my brother.

"She said she wanted out so that is what we're doing. I agree Sam, she shouldn't be going anywhere, but I can remember being in her position and I didn't want to be stuck in a bed either," Dean replied, eyeing her.

"Your clothes are in the drawer miss, and the bathroom is just over there," the nurse instructed. She nodded in response digging out her clothes. Instinctively I moved to her side gently taking her arm and helping her toward the bathroom. Once inside I stood in the doorway.

"You gonna stand there or close the door?" She spoke, drawing me from my blank state. My cheeks flushed a light shade of pink as I backed up closing the door. I sighed and walked back over to Dean.

"I hate it," Dean said, suddenly. I glanced over at him giving him a confused look.

"She shouldn't of had to go through that. Coming out of a Jinn's trance is hard," he explained.

"She shouldn't have gone alone. You should've gone with her," Dean continued, blame evident in his voice. The guilt bit at my gut again causing me to look down at my feet. The bathroom door opened drawing my glance. She was wearing the same clothes that were dirty from the warehouse. Dean approached her offering her his arm.

"Shall we?" She hesitated casting a weary glance my way before reluctantly taking Dean's arm. He began to lead her and I followed behind at a sulking pace.

.

The drive back to the bunker was quiet. She'd fallen asleep about an hour in which gave Dean time to call Cas. I stared in the side mirror watching her sleep behind my seat with her head rested against the cool window. Her face held the same expression it did when we found her. I looked away watching the road ahead as we pulled into the bunker's gravel driveway.

Dean drove the impala into the garage parking it. I unbuckled and reached over the seat resting a hand on her knee. I shook it gently. I swiftly let go as she shot up from the window with a gasp.

"Whoa easy," Dean said, looking back at her. We got out of the car and I helped her. She leaned against me as we walked allowing me to guide her steps.

"You okay?" I asked, gently. She didn't answer only leaning harder against my side. I wrapped my arm around her shoulder keeping her safely locked against me as we walked. I understood her silence. I'd learned the hard way not to push the matter if she didn't want to discuss it.

Cas met us at the entrance to the library taking her from my side and sitting her down in one of the wooden chairs.

"Can you heal her?" Dean questioned, knowing full well that Cas could. Castiel nodded.

"I'd like to look at the full extend of what the Jinn did to you if that's alright," Castiel began, placing his hand on her forehead. She nodded her approval closing her eyes. We watched in silence as a dim light glowed from his palm. I could make out the movement of her eyes under her eyelids. Cas was reading her. Her grip on the chair tightened suddenly before her eyes shot open with another gasp. Castiel pulled his hand back. I took a worried step forward, but paused. Their eyes met and a sympathic look crossed Castiel. Cas sent me the same glance for a moment rising more questions in me. What did he see? Why did he look at me? What scared her?

"Relax for me again," Castiel ordered. With a shaky breath she closed her eyes again. Castiel repeated the same movements except this time the color returned to her face and cheeks. He backed off again and her eyes opened. Their bright color had returned as well.

"You should get some rest. You may feel unwell for a day or two," Castiel suggested. She yawned clearly not going to argue.

"Cas, can I talk to you?" The angel looked toward Dean and nodded before following him out of the room. She stood from the chair swaying a little on her feet. I didn't ask as I took my place at her side again offering her my arm to help her walk. She took it without hesitation.

I walked her to her room and opened the door for her. I helped her to her bed sitting her down. I had to try.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked, quietly. She shook her head before lying herself down. I took that as my cue.

"If you need anything I'm just down the hall," I offered. She didn't respond. I left her room closing the door behind me. Castiel met me outside my own room which was just down the hall from hers.

"Sam, it would be wise to give her some space," Castiel encouraged.

"After what she has gone through and what she has seen it would be unwise to push your presence on her," he added, almost as if he was threatening me. I let out a sigh.

"Can you tell me what she saw?" My mind replayed the things she had said in the hospital, but I still had unanswered questions bouncing in the back of my mind. He shook his head firmly before walking away. I went into my room closing the door. I was tired. I dropped stomach first onto my bed not bothering to make myself comfortable as I very quickly drifted off.

.

I jolted awake to a loud cry and a thud. I snatched my gun from under my pillow and ran from my room searching for the noise. My eyes were tired with sleep, but I forced them open alarm going through me. The cry sounded again signaling that it was from her room. I moved swiftly and quietly down the hall my gun drawn and ready. With one movement I opened her door. In the dark I could make out her form on the floor sitting with her legs drawn up to her chest.

I entered the room sitting my gun on her dresser. I dropped down in front of her and reached out for her. She jumped and scrambled back for a moment. I could make out the fear glazing her eyes. "Hey, hey, it's just me, you're-" I grunted as she lunged forward her arms sliding around my neck. Her face buried itself between her arm and my neck. I stayed on my knees wrapping one arm around her lower back and the other across her shoulder blades. Her body trembled against me. I pressed my face into her shoulder rubbing my thumb against her lower back.

I didn't speak as I held onto her taking in the moment. She'd never clung to me like this before and it was odd. After a few minutes she slowly began to let go. I didn't want to, but I followed her lead. I stood up helping her back onto her feet. She sat on the edge of the bed taking her face in her hands. I stood in front of her staring down at her.

"Are you okay?" I asked. Shock washed over me again as she reached out and gripped my shirt pulling me to stand between her parted legs. She wrapped her arms around my lower back burying her face into my shirt. I hesitated for a moment before letting my arms fall on her shoulders tucking her closer. She shook her head against me giving me an answer to my question. I rubbed circled into her left shoulder blade hoping to calm her down. She was still shaking against me.

"I keep seeing it..." she muttered, into my shirt. She pulled back letting go of me. I followed. Her eyes met mine.

"I keep- I keep seeing it everytime I close my eyes..." she repeated. I placed myself next to her on the bed positioning myself so that I was facing her.

"Seeing what?" I asked.

"All of it... The life, the people... the escape." A chill ran up her spine at the last words. I stayed silent showing her that she had my full attention. She gulped avoiding eye contact.

"Everytime I close my eyes I see my family, my dad and my sister.. And I keep seeing your mom and dad... Along with you and Dean," she began. I was surprised that John and Mary were in this, but I didn't say anything.

"I keep seeing my sister happily married to.." She paused the anticipation of her answer tugging at me.

"To Dean..." I raised a brow.

"I keep seeing..." she paused again looking in a different direction.

"It's alright," I encouraged, carefully taking her hand in my own. She squeezed my hand a little.

"Us.. I keep seeing us," she said, finally. I tilted my head. Her gaze suddenly met mine in an intense stare.

"We were married Sam," she blurted, tears stinging her eyes. My own eyes widened in surprise my grip on her hand loosening.

"Oh God..." She choked. She stood up pulling away from me.

"I tried so desperately not to... but after I saw that, I can't just forget," she continued, turning to face me. I didn't move from the bed still shocked by her words.

"We were so happy Sam... and I- and I gave it up," she sobbed, turning her back to me again. I slowly stood realization hitting me. She left because of me. She had the perfect life with everything, yet she left it to come back to me.

"You begged me not to go... But I couldn't. He wasn't Sam, he was just- just a dream." Her voice cracked causing my heart to clench.

"So I-" she paused again. I took a few steps toward her. Her hands came up to rest near her collar bone.

"So I slit my throat.." My heart dropped. Dean hadn't ever told me how he managed to wake up from the trance. I suppose when you die in a dream you wake up. She turned to face me once more her head hanging low and her shoulders trembling with each sob. I came forward until I was in front of her again. I reached out and pulled her close trapping her against my chest. Her hands stayed curled between our bodies as she cried.

The feelings I had buried were surging back tenfold. Her fingers tangled into the fabric of my shirt. I continued to rub circles into her back until she relaxed her sobbing calmed down.

"What's going on?" Dean's voice suddenly called. She pulled back from me looking at Dean who stood in her doorway.

"I- I had a nightmare, that's all," she muttered. Dean's cold stare met mine.

"You okay? I know it can be rough after something like that." Dean stayed at the doorway.

"I'm fine." she defended, taking a step back. Her body brushed against mine.

"Best thing to do is to go back to sleep. Yes, you'll probably have another nightmare, but the more you sleep the faster it wears off," Dean explained.

"I can stay with you if you'd like?" Dean suggested. She turned and walked away from the two of us sitting down on her bed. I turned my back to Dean watching her.

"I don't need a babysitter," she warned, looking away from us. I glanced back to Dean who was staring daggers into my back.

"Alright, if you need anything yell." Without another word Dean left. My heart ached for her. Dean was her best friend, yet she was pushing him away. The silence in the room was overwhelming. I had so many questions and so many things I wanted to say, but when I opened my mouth all of those words stayed trapped in my throat.

"Dean's right... I should just go back to sleep," she muttered, looking down at her feet.

"You need to rest anyway, Cas said you shouldn't be up and about for a few days," I agreed.

"I- I'll let you-"

"Please don't leave me," she whined, her head shooting up to look at me. I stared at her for a moment. She'd told Dean she didn't need someone to watch her, yet she was asking me to stay.

"Please." Her voice was so soft. My mind trailed back to what Cas had said to me. He'd warned me to stay away. Screw him. As I walked back to her bed she slid further onto it making herself comfortable on her side. We'd slept in the same bed pleanty of times, but this was different. I sat on the bed leaning my back against the headboard. She moved closer almost snuggling herself against my leg. After a moment I couldn't contain myself. I slid down onto my own side facing her. She flipped the covers over me trapping our bodies under them.

"You don't- have to do this... I understand if what I told you..." She paused.

"If what you told me...?"

"Makes you uncomfortable." She thought that I didn't care about her. She thought that the feelings she had were one sided.

"No, no it doesn't." I had to reassure her. I scooted closer pulling her to me. I draped one arm over her side locking her in.

"I'm glad you told me," I murmured, catching her weary gaze.

"I know with this job, this life, we are supposed to keep the ones we love far away. We can't afford attachments... But I can't keep you away. I can't keep pretending like these feelings... These feelings don't exist," I admitted. Her eyes widened.

"You aren't the only one who has been burying things.." I finished. The silence that fell between us was comforting. Our eyes never left each others.

"Sam I-" she hesitated. I opened my mouth to question, but was stunned to silence as she suddenly moved capturing my lips with hers. Butterflies exploded in my stomach causing me to kiss back. My eyes slid closed allowing myself to take in everything. I'd wanted this for a long time. She shifted her position keeping us together as she pushed my shoulder. I followed her silent comand and rolled onto my back taking her with me. Her upper body rested on mine her arm bracing herself on my chest.

Our kiss finally broke leaving both of us breathless. I opened my eyes to look up at her. Her hair hung down over her shoulders almost touching my face. I reached up brushing a section of it behind her ear. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead causing me to lean upward into it. She moved back shifting her position until her head rested over my heart. I let one arm slide further up her back holding her close against my side. One of her hands lightly gripped the fabric of my shirt while the other took my free hand intertwining our fingers. I could've sworn I was melting under her touch. She snuggled closer causing my heart rate to flutter. She giggled tiredly her ear resting directly over my heart. "Relax Sam, I don't bite," she yawned. My cheeks turned a light shade of pink.

"You should try and sleep," I mumbled.

"I'm trying, but your voice is rumbling my entire head," she pouted. I couldn't help but chuckle. She raised her head for a moment giving me a playful glare before laying her head back down.

"Thank you for staying with me Sam.." She yawned, taking one last moment to cuddle against me.

"Anything for you," I replied, letting my own eyes slide closed.

Forever Taglist:

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[dimples-of-discontent]

An Epic Love Story: Paradise Lost and Destiel

So we wrapped Thanksgiving festivities with my family by reading the scene of the Fall in Paradise Lost (what? is this not traditional or something?) and I came away with SO many Destiel thoughts because it is basically the best love story ever and I am gonna flip a table and then set it on fire if the show doesn’t end with some kind of parallel scene (but reversed so that it was a positive thing).

Ok, wait. I see that context needed. This came up because we were talking about what we were reading and someone was complaining about having to read PL and, instead of the room backing her up as she clearly expected, all other 5 people went “NO IT’S AMAZING!!” with such force that she just stared and blinked. this was totally expected from me and my mom (both PhDs in English literature - her specialty is Medieval and mine is Renaissance) but the other 3 people we had no reason to expect knew or liked a 17thc. epic poem that is, admittedly, a really tough read. so then we all chose our favorite passages to read aloud to demonstrate its awesomeness and both me and my mom picked basically the saddest scene in all literature.

In Milton’s story, Adam and Eve have separate scenes of choosing to eat the fruit of knowledge and fall. Eve goes first and she’s deceived by Satan in the guise of a serpent who offers her himself as empirical evidence of all the great stuff the fruit can do. He’s a huge freaking liar, of course, but since there’s no such thing as deception in Paradise (until he gets there) Eve can’t tell that so she uses her reason and satisfies her natural curiosity (SO much more curious than dull old Adam) and, yes, disobeys the order from God not to eat from the tree of knowledge. There’s some gorgeous-ass poetry about it, but the immediate narrative consequence is that she wonders how to act when she returns to Adam. She’s never acted with him before, but being fallen means a split between seeming and being (and also the development of self-consciousness that gives you an internal monologue...something we only saw before with Satan). 

Cut to Adam, worried that Eve isn’t back yet. He made her a garland of roses when she was away because he missed her. (I’m not making this shit up, seriously.) He sees her and can tell instantly that she’s just different and all his joints go slack and he drops the garland and as it hits the ground “all the faded roses shed.” See, there had never been death in the garden before. None of the plants died; all the animals were immortal. But now that Eve has fallen there can be. Adam then immediately begins an internal monologue (interestingly suggesting he’s fallen already because he’s already made his choice). 

"O fairest of creation, last and best

Of all God's works, creature in whom excelled

Whatever can to sight or thought be formed,

Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet!

How art thou lost! how on a sudden lost

Defaced, deflowered, and now to death devote!

Rather, how hast thou yielded to transgress

The strict forbiddance, how to violate

The sacred fruit forbidden! Some cursed fraud

Of enemy had beguiled thee, yet unknown,

And me with thee hath ruined; for with thee

Certain my resolution is to die."

(9.896-907)

It slays me and I cry even when I read it for students in class and I have no shame about it. Paradise Lost is a religious epic, sure, but have you considered that it’s also an epic fucking love story?!

Now, tbh, you aren’t supposed to want Adam to fall. You’re supposed to be like “oh naughty bad Adam to put your love above your God” but, like, no one who reads this story thinks that. (Well, almost no one. I always have at least one dudebro student being like “dumb Adam! I’d never make that choice for a girl!” and then I tell him he’s clearly never been in love and he shuts the hell up. I’m fully serious.) There’s a lot to say about why Milton wrote it that way, but bottom line is that we’re all already fallen so we want fallen things...including love. 

Love and...love. You know where I am going now. I basically pictured this scene as Cas choosing to fall for Dean; to give up his immortal status and chance to inhabit Paradise because, frankly, it’s not Paradise if you’re alone. (That’s why Adam asked God to make Eve in the first place.) It could/would be less sad because Dean was never an immortal (despite that face) and so the choice that was made of his free will (also The Biggest Deal in Milton) would be an affirmative statement about the benefits of being human, of being fallen. Including love.

Paradise Lost ends with the following lines:

“They, looking back, all the eastern side beheld

Of Paradise, so late their happy seat, 

Waved over by that flaming brand; the gate 

With dreadful faces thronged and fiery arms. 

Some natural tears they dropped, but wiped them soon; 

The world was all before them, where to choose 

Their place of rest, and Province their guide. 

They, hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow 

Through Eden took their solitary way.” (12.640-649)

This, my friends, THIS is what I want for endgame Destiel. Yes, it’s got some sadness in it, “some natural tears,” and some significant loss BUT they do also get the rest of the world and, most important, they get to go together. I remember @thedogsled made a post about how it’s not yet time for Cas to drive the Impala because that’s the perfect last scene - Cas driving him and Dean off into the sunset...”hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow...”. I mean...what else could you ask for?

We say a lot of the time that SPN is “epic” but frequently when I say it I mean it in a literary sense because it shares many qualities with epics...and a LOT more than that with this one. I keep promising (threatening?) to write more about SPN and PL, but this is my most important point. Writers, please, take a lesson from Milton and end this love story this way. Please and thank you.